Category: English

That New Year’s Eve afternoon, my best friend Sasha’s floral shop received an order from my husband. I stared at the name on the shop’s mobile ordering app—three times, just to be sure. It was definitely Dean, my husband, who was supposedly away on a business trip. But the recipient wasn’t me. I dialed his number for a video call. It rang for a long time before he finally answered. Before I could launch my interrogation, Sasha, with a forced smile, squeezed into the frame. “Not even coming home for the holiday, Dean? What kind of apology gift are you sending Brooke?” she chirped, saving me from myself. The room behind him was pitch-black. Dean had the sheets pulled over his head, only his eyes visible, and the corner of his mouth twitched unnaturally. “Babe, I am so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get back.” “I pulled an all-nighter yesterday. I’m exhausted. Just going back to sleep for a bit.” The interruption had given me a moment to calm the frantic beating in my chest. I mumbled a few non-committal words and hung up. I picked up the packaged bouquet and headed for the door. “I’ll take this delivery.” 1 The delivery address wasn’t far from the shop—a newly developed, upscale apartment called The Bluffs. The security guard stopped me at the gate. “No outside deliveries allowed past this point.” I pulled out Sasha’s shop phone and dialed the number on the order, putting on a slightly saccharine voice to explain the situation. Dean’s voice, clear and loud, came over the speaker. “This is Dean Sterling, owner of Unit 1603 in Building Five. She can come in.” The guard nodded, logged my license, and waved me through. Ding. The elevator door opened onto a plush, silent hallway. I took a deep, shaky breath. “I’ll go the rest of the way myself.” Sasha nodded, walking toward the nearby stairwell. “Yell if you need me.” I started the video recording on my phone, then pressed the doorbell. Dean’s muffled voice called out, “Honey, can you grab that?” A moment later, the door swung open. The woman on the other side froze. “Lily’s mom?” I, too, was stunned. This was Chloe Vance, Lily’s former art teacher. She had left her job six months ago, citing a difficult pregnancy. Was she carrying my husband’s child? Her gaze dropped to the flowers in my hand, then back up to mine. A slow, almost triumphant smile spread across her face—a mix of bashful pride and subtle provocation. “Lily’s mom, are you… doing deliveries now?” she asked, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. She wore a long, loose-fitting sleep dress. Her belly was dramatically, undeniably round. The paper wrapped around the flowers crumpled under the sudden, desperate tension in my grip. She reached out to take the bouquet, her expression all-too-solicitous. “Thank you so much. It must be freezing out. Why don’t you come in and warm up?” “I’d love to. Thank you for offering.” She faltered, clearly not expecting me to accept so readily. Her eyes darted quickly toward the kitchen before she smiled again and opened the shoe cabinet, pulling out a pair of slippers. The cabinet was full of men’s shoes. One pair—a pair of Italian leather oxfords I’d bought Dean last month—was right on top. They were the exact shoes he’d worn when he left for his supposed ‘trip.’ On a small console in the foyer was a framed, slightly cheesy photo of the two of them. Chloe inhaled the scent of the roses. “My husband is such a romantic. He never forgets a holiday. Always surprising me.” I gave a cold, small laugh. “Does he send flowers for tax day, too?” She paused, mouth half-open, then snapped back, slightly defensive. “Tough times since the divorce, huh? The socialite turned delivery driver.” I scanned the apartment’s open-concept living area. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the winter sun set over the sweeping panorama of Lake Bluffs. The view was breathtaking, but all I could feel was a profound, icy ache. A thousand tiny needles of pain spread through my body. “It is,” I agreed smoothly. “Not everyone can snag a successful CEO and climb the socioeconomic ladder the way you did, Chloe.” With the truth laid bare, her mask of politeness dissolved into smug satisfaction. “Dean would have divorced you years ago if it wasn’t for Lily. But my baby is more important. The moment I told him I was pregnant, he filed the papers.” “Filed the papers?” I asked, feeling a strange calm settle over the shock. “Don’t play dumb. Dean told me everything. He only goes back once a month to keep up appearances for Lily. Now that you’ve seen us, just be smart about this. Stop trying to cling to him.” She lifted her chin, radiating confidence. “I know exactly how women like you operate.” Just then, Dean emerged from the kitchen, carefully carrying a bowl of freshly brewed chicken soup. He put it on the dining table, then reached for a ladle. He hadn’t seen me yet. Chloe wrapped her arm around his, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Honey, we have a guest.” Dean turned. The moment he saw me, his hand jerked, and the porcelain bowl crashed onto the hardwood floor, shattering into sharp pieces. “What are you doing here!” he yelled. Chloe sighed a showy, theatrical sigh. “Lily’s mom is having a hard time. She’s delivering flowers now.” Dean glanced at the bouquet on the table, realizing that the delivery voice on the intercom had sounded vaguely familiar. He paled, stumbling toward me. He reached out, panicked. “Brooke, let me explain, this—” Chloe yanked his arm back, staking her claim. “You two are divorced, Dean. What’s there to explain?” “Lily’s mom, Dean will cover the child support for Lily, but don’t be pathetic and try to chase after him.” I held Dean’s gaze, my voice steady. “We are getting divorced,” I said, not as a question, but as a final decree. 2 Dean yanked his arm free of Chloe and grabbed mine, pulling me toward the exit. “We need to talk outside. Chloe is heavily pregnant; don’t frighten her.” Chloe gasped, then slid her foot—perhaps intentionally—onto a shard of porcelain. She lost her balance and crashed to the floor, grabbing Dean’s pant leg. “Dean! My stomach!” Dean’s focus instantly shifted. He hoisted her up frantically. “Chloe, don’t panic. I’m taking you to the hospital.” His elbow slammed into my lower back as he spun away, sending a jolt of searing pain through me. “Ah!” Dean paused, looking back over his shoulder for a split second. “Brooke…” Chloe let out a pained whimper, cutting him off. He looked down at the agony on her face, his features contorted with concern, and sped toward the door. I walked out slowly, Sasha rushing over from the stairwell to steady me. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I lied. Sasha held up her phone, showing me a conversation with her brother, a corporate lawyer. “I told Grant to start looking into any suspicious asset transfers. Just in case.” I nodded gratefully, sending her the video I’d just recorded. “The woman is Chloe Vance, Lily’s former art teacher. Have Grant draft a full divorce agreement for me now.” “I’ll take you home.” Sasha insisted I was in no state to drive. She drove me home, then took Lily to her place for a couple of days. Grant was astonishingly fast. The moment I got home, the initial documents landed in my inbox. The house and car in Chloe’s name, plus wire transfers, amounted to nearly seven million dollars. A year ago, Dean had told me the subsidiary needed him to travel constantly. Turns out, he was establishing a luxurious second life with Chloe the entire time. I immediately called the company’s CFO. “Mr. Wallace, please send me the financial statements for the main company and all subsidiaries for the last three years.” “Mrs. Sterling, company financials are confidential. You don’t have the authority to view them.” “I am a majority shareholder!” There was a two-second pause on the line. “I will need to get Mr. Sterling’s signed approval before releasing any documents to you, Madam.” Good. Very good. Since my first pregnancy, I had retreated from the business world, spending my days shopping, getting spa treatments, and raising my daughter. Everyone thought I had simply married well. It seemed even Dean had forgotten that I was still the company’s largest shareholder—and had the authority to fire him at any moment. I started clearing out the house. I threw open the walk-in closet and pulled Dean’s clothes out, one by one, tossing them onto the floor, tearing and stomping on them like a madwoman until the fury subsided into exhaustion. As I emptied the last shelf, a small, clear storage bin slid out of the corner. It contained all the things Dean had given me during our four years in college. A tulip-shaped LED nightlight. A backpack he’d sewn himself. A silver hair clip he’d designed. Jars filled with paper stars on which he’d written out sweet memories. His family hadn’t had money then. He couldn’t afford expensive gifts, so most of them were things he’d made by hand. I hugged the bin to my chest and cried until the sun came up. The next day, my mother-in-law (MIL) and sister-in-law (SIL) stormed into the chaotic apartment, immediately launching into a loud tirade. “Brooke Sterling, have you lost your mind? You smashed all this expensive stuff! Do you think my son earns money easily? Why did he marry a wastrel like you? You couldn’t even give him a son, and now you can’t manage a home!” My MIL saw me and her hand lashed out, delivering a stinging slap across my face. “You bitch! You almost hurt my grandson!” “You gave us a useless girl and now you think you can put on airs in front of Chloe? You know what? Be smart, divorce my son, and get out of the Sterling family.” The SIL started emptying the kitchen cabinets, filling designer bags with things like expensive supplements and imported vitamins. “These good things are wasted on her, Mom. Let’s take them to our new daughter-in-law. She needs to recover.” The MIL rushed to the kitchen, joining the grab-and-stuff operation. “Yes, Chloe is the great hero of our family. She needs to be well nourished.” My MIL didn’t even look at Lily the day she was born, furious that I hadn’t given her a boy. But I wasn’t focused on her attitude. I was focused on the revelation: Chloe had given birth? “Where is Dean?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. My MIL spat. “He’s with my grandson, of course! I’m warning you, if anything happens to that boy, I’ll hold you responsible!” 3 Chloe had given birth to a boy. My entire extended family had known about the affair for months, conspiring to keep it from me. Dean finally came home that afternoon, his eyes bloodshot with fatigue, his expression a mask of impatience. “My mother took a few things from the house, and you called the police? It’s my money that bought those things. What’s the big deal if my mother takes them?!” “Clean yourself up and come with me to the police station to clear this up.” I had waited until the MIL and SIL left, then called the police, reporting the theft. The security camera footage clearly showed them stealing items worth well over the felony threshold. The police had found them at the hospital. Dean was there alone, juggling the baby and Chloe’s post-delivery needs. He was overwhelmed. He had finally managed to hire a postpartum nurse, which was the only reason he had time to come home and settle the score with me. I looked at him and let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Your money?” He seemed genuinely amused, his tone mocking. “Whose else would it be? If I hadn’t held the company together all these years, it would have collapsed. I’ve been supporting you. You’ve had over a decade of luxury.” “I need an heir for a company this size. You couldn’t have another child. Just stick to being Mrs. Sterling, and no one can threaten your position.” I pointed to our framed family photo on the mantelpiece. “Isn’t Lily your child?” “What use is a girl? She’ll just belong to someone else eventually.” A fresh, horrifying wave of dread washed over me. Belong to someone else? “Dean,” I whispered, my heart racing, “Did you only approach me in college because of my family’s company?” Dean stepped closer, grabbing my hands, his voice dropping to a fake, soft tone. “Brooke, I do love you.” I pulled my hands away and slapped the printed divorce agreement onto his chest. “Sign it.” He glanced at the document, then tossed it onto the floor, sneering. “Brooke, look around. How many men out there don’t have mistresses, or even multiple small families? I made one little mistake, and you want to throw away our marriage?” “Stop being dramatic. My mother wanted a grandson, and you can’t have another child. I had no choice. What’s the big deal? We can even bring him back when he’s a bit older and raise him here.” He spoke as if he were commenting on the weather. I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. I reacted instinctively, slapping him hard across the face, then again. “You Asshole.” He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. “Wife, I know you’re angry. But how will you survive without me? You’ll really go back to delivering flowers?” “Don’t forget, this company is my family’s now.” Dean snorted, a sharp, dismissive sound. “Don’t be naive. After a decade, the people at the company won’t listen to you. They are loyal to me.” “We can fix this. I promise, no one will ever threaten your position as my wife. I won’t short-change Lily, either.” “But if I don’t agree, you won’t get custody of Lily. Can you really let her grow up in a broken home, all because of your pride?” The irony was sickening. He hadn’t thought about Lily when he cheated, but he was willing to use her as a moral hostage now. My father had given Dean a 10% share when we married, hoping he would protect me. Now that stake was Dean’s weapon against me. Before marrying Dean, I had hidden my family’s wealth. After graduation, we both started working at the company. I found out I was pregnant right as we were both competing for executive roles. My father, overjoyed, quickly arranged a wedding and ordered me to focus on my health. He passed away suddenly soon after. The stress led to a miscarriage, and I spiraled into severe depression. Dean cared for me, all while stepping in to manage the company. He promised to protect my father’s legacy. I believed him. I worked with the other shareholders to elect him as CEO and Chairman. At the time, I truly wasn’t capable of running things. I became the envied Mrs. Sterling, and eventually, I gave birth to a beautiful daughter. Because of the child I lost, I was fiercely protective of Lily. Dean knew all this. That’s why he thought he could use her to control me. “Dean, you’re the naive one,” I said, turning my back on him. “Not me.” 4 A few days later, I exercised my rights as the majority shareholder, issuing a comprehensive notice of Dean’s immediate dismissal from all executive roles, and announcing that I would be taking over all company affairs. The email landed in every employee’s inbox. I put on a professional suit that hadn’t seen the light of day in years and walked into the lobby of Sterling & Co. The receptionist, a young woman who had been hired recently, stopped me. “Ma’am, who are you here to see?” I hadn’t been in the office in at least five years. Most employees wouldn’t recognize me. “I am Brooke Sterling. I’m here to work.” “Brooke Sterling?” The receptionist mumbled my name, then her eyes widened as she recalled the morning’s explosive email. “You’re the new Chairman!” She respectfully scrambled to open the main security doors for me. The elevator climbed to the 26th floor. The doors slid open, and Dean, flanked by a group of key shareholders, was waiting for me. He wore a patronizing, confident smile, clearly ready to dismiss me as an amateur. The first to speak was an older man, Mr. Wallace, who had worked alongside my father for years and had watched me grow up. He adopted a stern, paternal tone. “Brooke, Dean has told us everything. You’re being utterly ridiculous! You can’t let a small marital spat spill over into the company like this. The Chairman position is too important to be used as a political statement!” The surrounding employees, drawn by the commotion, laughed quietly. “The CEO’s wife probably can’t even read a balance sheet.” “Why can’t she just stay home with the kid? What’s the point of this scene?” “I know her type. She’s just worried her husband will leave her. This is just a performance.” The other shareholders chimed in with friendly-sounding advice. “Mrs. Sterling, the Chairman’s seat is not a joke. You should go home to your daughter.” “Brooke, Sterling & Co. has grown so much under Dean’s leadership. Why rock the boat?” “The company doesn’t belong just to you. What right do you have to make this kind of decision?” Dean smiled confidently and stepped forward to play the benevolent victim. “It’s my fault. I upset Brooke, and she’s reacted to it. I apologize to everyone for this disruption.” “Nonsense, Dean. This is between you two, we won’t get involved.” “Brooke, don’t make these jokes again!” The group chuckled, preparing to disperse. Dean leaned in close to my ear. “See that, Brooke? No one is on your side.” Many of the people gathered had been my father’s loyalists, yet they were now fully aligned with Dean. I scanned the room, the internal chill growing until it was absolute zero. I spoke, my voice devoid of emotion. “A joke? I am the largest shareholder in this company. I am demanding the immediate dismissal of Dean Sterling from all his roles.” The shareholders froze, turning en masse to look at Dean. Dean, however, remained unfazed. “Since everyone is here, why don’t we just hold an impromptu shareholder meeting? We can elect a new Chairman right now.” “Assistant Stone, take everyone to the conference room. And notify Mr. Robert, we need him here for a vote.” We filed into the room. Dean naturally took the head seat, then dramatically produced his ownership agreement. He now held a staggering 20% stake. “I’ve acquired all the scattered stock over the years. I hold 20%, and Brooke holds 35%. Who do you all support?” Mr. Wallace, Mr. Mac, and others quickly voiced their full support for Dean. Dean leaned back, crossing his legs, looking down at me with an air of superiority. “Forty percent of the shares are already on my side. You only have thirty-five. Time to concede, Brooke.” I ignored him, looking toward the door, waiting for the final shareholder to arrive. Dean followed my gaze, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. Half an hour later, my Uncle Robert finally arrived, giving me a weary look. “Brooke, you shouldn’t be doing this.” My eyes immediately welled up. “Uncle Robert, Dean betrayed me.” My uncle pulled me aside, starting his lecture. “Even if Dean is at fault, you can’t air this in public! Men need face. Now, you two go home and settle this privately.” Then he turned to the room. “I support Dean.” I could stomach the others, but the betrayal from my own flesh and blood, my mother’s brother, cut me deep. Dean stood up and thanked everyone. “Brooke, the tally is 46% for me. Do you have anything more to say?” “Mr. Sterling, you seem to be forgetting the 19% shareholder who hasn’t cast a vote yet.”

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The year our parents died, the family company was on the brink of bankruptcy. I cut ties with my older sister when she was at her lowest point. Five years later, her company went public. She became successful and famous, the CEO everyone looked up to. When a reporter asked who she was most grateful to over these years, her expression was cold, her tone mocking. “The brother who abandoned me for money.” “Oh, he doesn’t count as my brother anymore. How is he doing?” 1 The reporter launched a nationwide search for CEO Harper Vance’s brother. The reward was ten million dollars. But they didn’t find me. They only found the diary I kept before I died. When the reporter handed the diary to my sister, Harper Vance, she froze. Her hands trembled as she took it. But a second later, she threw the diary into the trash can. Her tone was contemptuous. “Is this Liam’s new trick?” “Or did you guys make this up for TV ratings?” The reporter shook her head. She carefully picked up my diary. She brushed off the accumulated dust. “This is indeed the diary your brother kept before he died. As for his body, it was cremated. Since no one claimed it or arranged a burial, the crematorium handled it…” Before she could finish, my sister stood up in a rage. “Don’t think I’ll forgive him just because he’s playing these games!” “Go tell Liam that I have a new brother now. He means nothing to me! Even if he’s dead, I won’t care!” The reporter looked at her with difficulty, finally negotiating, “Then, what should we do with this diary?” My sister, Harper, sneered. “Read it. I want to see what kind of lies he spun.” 2 [Goodbye, Sister. April 1, 2019] Hello, Diary. From now on, please take care of me. You’re the only one keeping me company. … Let me tell you, today, before I ran away from home with all the gifts Mom, Dad, and my sister bought me, I got caught by my sister. I didn’t want to confront her. I just wanted to leave quietly. But my sister was annoying. She grabbed my hand and told me not to leave, saying she only had me left as family. In that moment, my heart trembled. But I still questioned her with a cold face. “The company is bankrupt. Can you still buy me the sneakers I like?” “I spend money like water. Can you still afford me?” “Instead of living with you, trying to save money every day and living this bitter life, I’d rather find a sugar mommy who’s willing to support me.” “I happen to know one.” But my sister got even more anxious. She asked who it was and told me not to be deceived. She also said she would work harder and earn lots and lots of money, promising to give me the princely life I had before. But guess what I said? I said: “If I’m willing to be deceived, is it any of your business?” “If you have the ability and money to support me, I’ll still be your good brother, and I’ll come home. But when will you have money?” My sister, who cared so much about her pride. To keep me, she actually knelt down. It was quite pathetic. I turned my face away and wiped a tear from the corner of my eye while she wasn’t looking. I even slapped her, telling her not to pester me and not to delay my future. I even threatened to cut ties with her. … That slap really stunned my sister. She froze, watching helplessly as I dragged my luggage away. … I’m sorry, Sister. It must have hurt. … Reading this page, the reporter took a deep breath. “I didn’t expect CEO Vance to love her brother so much.” But when the camera turned to my sister, her expression showed no emotion, remaining cold. She just said lightly, “I regret it.” Pausing, she added, “I regret treating him so well before.” “I raised an ungrateful wolf.” 3 [Hospital Checkup. April 5, 2019] Diary, I’m here again. Today I went to another hospital for further examination. Actually, how I wished the previous diagnosis was a mistake. That way, I could go back and tell my sister I regretted it. As long as I softened up and acted cute, my sister would forgive me like before. But where are all the miracles in life? The doctor, an older man, looked at me seriously. “Where are your parents? Primary liver cancer, late stage. You need to be hospitalized immediately.” Actually, I didn’t understand. But the fear of death still made me cry. I’m only seventeen. The doctor looked at me with sympathy and wrote me a hospitalization payment slip. I ran to the payment machine to take a look. In the end, I snuck out of the hospital. Forget it. My card is linked to my sister’s main account. Let me save her some money. Anyway, I’m going to die soon. Why waste my sister’s money? Her money is hard-earned. … Ever since the contractor Mom and Dad worked with ran away, the project imploded, the capital chain broke, and Mom and Dad died in a car accident while rushing around due to immense pressure. The company’s affairs fell on my sister’s shoulders. I saw with my own eyes the debt collectors moving valuable things out of the house to get money. And my sister, to leave me the tens of thousands for studying abroad, knelt on the ground and kowtowed to people. But in the end, the assets were still taken by the bank. To support me, to pay off the debts, my sister borrowed money everywhere, drank alcohol until she was hospitalized, but she had no time to see a doctor, nor money for treatment. Once sober, she left the hospital to continue running business errands. Begging everyone like a grandson. I cried and begged her to wait until she recovered to work, but she said she was made of iron and would be fine. Don’t you think my sister is kind of silly? Actually, I wanted to share the burden with her. I wanted to tell my sister I didn’t need to study abroad, and I wasn’t the pampered rich kid anymore. I could do without anything, and I could work part-time to support her. But unexpectedly, at such a critical moment, I got the most expensive illness. … Diary, do you also think I’m useless? The reporter’s eyes were red. “It seems your brother did have hidden reasons for leaving you back then.” “Getting liver cancer at such a young age, how pitiful.” Harper sneered. “This sympathy card is played well.” “Reporter Lin, don’t be fooled by him. Liam is the best at lying.” “When he was little, to skip school, he lied to Mom and Dad that his stomach hurt, scaring our whole family into running around him and sending him to the hospital. His acting has always been good.” The reporter smiled bitterly. After a sigh, she only said, “Let’s hope so.” 4 [No Money, So Much Pain. April 15, 2019] Diary, insomnia again last night. It’s not that I don’t want to sleep, it’s just too painful to sleep. The illness is getting worse. Without painkillers, I really can’t endure it. But I have no money. But now there’s something more important. If I don’t pay rent, the landlord will kick me out. I’m really going to experience sleeping under a bridge like I joked with my sister when I was little. I used to read wuxia novels and think it was cool for heroes to sleep under bridges, but now that I’m grown up, I’m scared. No money to spend. I had to list the gifts Mom and Dad gave me on eBay. Those were the few things I brought out. But when someone actually inquired, I always refused with various excuses. In the end, I couldn’t bear to part with them. Finally, in pain and hungry, I couldn’t help it and withdrew five hundred from the card. Sister, I’m sorry. I spent your money again. Being poor cured my picky eating habit. When I was about to faint from hunger, I even picked up dirty buns someone threw in the trash to eat. Actually, they were quite tasty. It seems poverty can cure all prince diseases. I went to the supermarket and bought a bag of steamed buns, a gallon of water, and went to the pharmacy to buy some painkillers. The rest, I’ll save for rent. My teacher called me again. She advised me to study hard. With my good grades, suddenly skipping class is bad. I was afraid she would contact my sister, so I proposed dropping out. But the teacher still called my sister. Just now, my sister called me. Her tone was stiff and cold. “Liam, I know you don’t want to be involved with me. I don’t care what woman you’re clinging to, but you shouldn’t give up your studies, which you were so proud of, for her.” “Being so depraved, are you worthy of Mom and Dad?” It had only been ten days since I heard my sister’s voice, but it felt like half a lifetime. I covered my mouth to stop myself from crying out. But the tears wouldn’t stop. Sister, I miss you so much. … My sister on the other end of the phone got impatient waiting and dropped another sentence. “If you keep this up, I really won’t care about you anymore.” My sister hung up. But I cried for a long time. Diary, I’d better block my sister. I’ll go handle the dropout procedures tomorrow.

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I chased Gabriel Stone shamelessly for four years. He was fed up. With a single order, my family fearfully sent me abroad. He said, “I don’t care what it takes, just keep her away from me! Otherwise, don’t blame me for being ruthless.” Drugs, hypnosis, electroshock… These methods were truly effective. I forgot the feeling of loving him. Even my memory of him became blurred. Finally, he relented and allowed me to return to the States. Wherever he appeared, I actively avoided him. Because my mother told me that this god-like man was someone I couldn’t afford to offend. Seeing him kissing my sister, I secretly took out my phone to take a picture. His gaze was fierce and cold. Terrified, I shrank into the corner, stammering: “I’m sorry, I just thought… you two looked so perfect together, so shippable…” I don’t know why. But the eyes of the man who usually hid his emotions trembled violently. 1 Since returning from Europe, I’ve felt like my brain isn’t working right. I spend most of the day sleeping. I think I might be sick. Mom comforted me, saying not to worry. “You’ve always been a sleepyhead since you were little, unlike your sister who is so disciplined.” “It doesn’t matter, everyone’s constitution is different. If you’re sleepy, just sleep.” I poured a large cup of black coffee, trying to wake myself up. But it had no effect. I rubbed my temples, feeling distressed, when the front door opened. The butler announced: “Miss Aria has brought Mr. Stone back.” Joy immediately surged in Dad and Mom’s eyes. Dad eagerly went out to welcome them. Mom was about to follow but suddenly remembered something. She looked at me with difficulty: “Lily, you…” I nodded sensibly: “I know, Mr. Stone doesn’t like me.” “Sister’s engagement is important. I’ll go upstairs first. I need to catch up on sleep anyway.” Mom looked at me, yawning, with relief. I took a few steps, then suddenly remembered I hadn’t taken my coffee cup. Wait, I wanted to try drinking another cup. The moment I turned around, I inadvertently met a cold gaze. Almost instinctively. I forgot the coffee cup and ran for my life. As if running late would cost me my life. I ran into my room and locked the door. Then I braced a table against the door. Only then did my heart, hanging in my throat, settle down. I couldn’t explain why, but seeing Gabriel Stone gave rise to an intense emotion: Fear. Mom said this was because Gabriel was a natural-born ruler, and anyone with him would feel oppressed. “Especially a natural weakling like you.” Mom told me not to appear in front of Mr. Stone. “Mr. Stone, he doesn’t like people who look cute but are actually stupid.” “His gaze will only stay on excellent girls like your sister.” “What status does the Stone family hold? If we can become related to the Stone family through marriage, it would save us lifetimes of struggle.” “Lily, you need to be sensible.” I was very sensible. So, every time Gabriel came to our house, I actively avoided him. Mom was very pleased with this and sometimes patted my head. This was the greatest reward for me, and I cherished it very much. So, I never dared to tell Mom. Even if she didn’t say it, I would actively avoid Gabriel. His aura was too overwhelming. I felt very uncomfortable. Very suppressed. As if my heart was being squeezed hard by someone. There was also an inexplicable sourness. Laughter came from downstairs. Amidst this laughter, I fell asleep. 2 When I woke up again, the sky was dim. It was already evening. The villa was very quiet. Gabriel must have left. I was hungry. I opened the door, wearing a white princess nightgown, and went downstairs barefoot to find something to eat. The floor was cold, and I felt my brain clear up a tiny bit. I was standing by the kitchen counter heating a slice of bread. The study door suddenly opened. Gabriel, in a sharp suit, walked out of the study. Under the warm yellow light, his contours were more three-dimensional, his figure upright. His features were like a sculpture. Like a god descending with the power of life and death. But he was too cold. His temperament was cold, his eyes were cold. Even the lead-gray cufflinks of his suit gleamed coldly. Separated by the long living room, his gaze fell lightly on me. His thin lips pressed into a straight line. Full of pressure. Almost instantly. I came back to my senses. Holding my head, I squatted under the dining table. Hiding myself clumsily. Sister’s light steps flew down the stairs. She ran into Gabriel’s arms, hugging his arm and shaking it. “Leaving so soon? You haven’t even seen my new stills yet. Stay for dinner, okay?” Sister’s temperament had always been distant and cold. But now she showed a young girl’s charm, her voice sweet and pleasant. Like a beautiful bird. With bright feathers and a melodious song. Gabriel didn’t speak; he looked coldly at me, shivering under the table. Sister’s smile fell. She bit her lip and said: “If you’re busy, another day is fine too. Let’s go, I’ll walk you out.” Gabriel stood still. The pressure on him was so heavy, as if he wasn’t listening to Sister at all. Sister opened her mouth but dared not make a sound. After a long time, he spoke, his voice deep: “Okay, I’ll leave after dinner.” Surprise crossed Dad and Sister’s faces simultaneously. Gabriel curled his lips slightly: “What are you afraid of? Didn’t she forget everything?” Gabriel walked to the dining table with his long legs and squatted down. His suit pants outlined the firm lines of his legs. “Lily, do you still recognize me?” I looked up timidly, then lowered my eyes, not daring to meet his gaze. I nodded slowly. But my fingertips and toes suddenly felt a needle-like pain. Like a stress reaction. I screamed. I closed my eyes tightly. Shaking my head desperately. “I don’t know you! Don’t hit me! I don’t know you!” 3 At the dinner table, the atmosphere was weird. Dad and Mom tried hard to liven up the mood. But Gabriel just ate quietly. His posture was noble. He had no intention of speaking. It made Dad and Mom’s enthusiasm very awkward. Sister had a dark face and said nothing. I dared not pick up food, only eating small bites of rice. Finally getting through this meal, Dad and Mom seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Watching Gabriel’s figure about to leave, I suddenly remembered something and called out to him: “Mr. Stone, wait a moment.” Everyone looked at me in surprise. Including Gabriel. His brows furrowed slightly, obviously impatient. “Just a moment. Okay?” I gestured a one-centimeter distance with my fingers. Saying that, I ran upstairs and soon ran down holding a tin box. Everyone’s eyes were locked on me. I opened the lid of the tin box and asked: “Mr. Stone, this is yours, right?” On top of the tin box were over a dozen ID photos. Some were one inch, some two inches. Obviously not obtained through legitimate channels. Because some photos had steel stamps, some had solidified glue on the back. Clearly pryed from various places. The Gabriel in the photos was younger than now, with a few traces of greenness between his brows. But his features were already very superior. Besides the ID photos, there were some messy things. Candy wrappers, cigarette boxes, used pen refills, crumpled test papers, etc. Gabriel looked at me with a burning gaze. I gritted my teeth before daring to continue: “I found it in a corner of my closet. I don’t know who put it there. But I recognized your photos, so it should be yours, right?” Gabriel’s eyes moved slightly, seemingly with a bit of inquiry. I felt shorter under his gaze. My shoulders dropped. He said: “Not mine, throw it away.” “Oh, okay.” I tossed it into the trash can beside me and was about to go upstairs. A hint of danger suddenly appeared in Gabriel’s eyes. “Lily, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” He called out to me. I was puzzled: “What?” He seemed to see through everything, his eyes mocking, and sneered. “Nothing. Good acting. Don’t do it next time. I’m not interested.” With that, he walked away. 4 Mom closed the door. Sister held it in all night and finally burst into tears on the table. Dad, heartbroken, couldn’t help but slap me. I was caught off guard and fell to the ground awkwardly. My head hit the corner of the table. Buzzing with pain. Mom hugged Sister’s shoulders heartbrokenly and said to me: “Lily, don’t blame your father for being harsh. Tonight, you really disappointed us too much!” “Did you forget Mom’s repeated instructions?” “Why did you go downstairs without permission? Why did you talk to him? Are you that cheap?!” Blood seeped from the wound on my forehead and flowed into my eyes. A blood mist appeared before my eyes, blurring my vision. Covering the wound, I tried to explain: “I’m sorry, I thought he left. I didn’t mean to…” Sister suddenly grabbed my collar and screamed hysterically: “Running downstairs dressed like that, deliberately dangling your bare feet in front of him, and holding a broken box trying to get his attention, Lily, who are you trying to seduce?!” “Do you know Gabriel’s status? Do you know your own status? How dare you have designs on him?” “Do you know that just because of your indiscretion tonight, I might lose him?” “Can’t you live without a man? You even have to seduce your own sister’s boyfriend!” With that, Sister opened the door and walked out. Mom hurriedly pulled Sister: “Aria, where are you going so late?” Aria looked at me hatefully: “In this house, it’s either me or her. If she’s here, I’m not. I’m leaving!” Soon, the sound of a car starting came from the garage. Mom sighed deeply. Dad slammed the door in anger. I spoke softly: “I’ll stay out tonight, okay?” Mom hesitated: “Where can you go?” “I’ll stay at a hotel. I stayed in hotels a lot abroad, I’m familiar with them.” Back then, I couldn’t stand the inhuman torture, so whenever I had the chance, I escaped from the hospital. Staying in the cheapest motels. Avoiding the painful treatments they arranged for me. But Sister always found me quickly and took me back. Mom was silent, then nodded after a while: “You were indeed wrong tonight, so go stay out. Mom will bring you back when your sister calms down.”

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I’m going to die. But no one cares. So I’ll wish for no afterlife. Let’s never meet again. 1 When Lucas Thorne walked out with his suitcase, I was a small, shivering bundle, swallowed by my overcoat as I curled up on the sofa. He paused, his back ramrod straight, and glanced over his shoulder just once. In the silent, sterile light of the afternoon, he offered no final words. He just left. And I… I never even lifted my head. The door clicked shut. My head remained bowed for a long, long time before I finally found the strength to look up, to face the light pouring in from the window. It felt like the whole world had abandoned me. My own husband didn’t want me anymore. He, too, believed I was rotten to the core. And he was right. I didn’t deserve anyone’s forgiveness. My hand, trembling, found its way to my stomach. Just a week ago, a tiny, four-month-old baby was nestled here. But it slipped away, silent and unseen. I was so lonely. All I ever wanted was a little baby of my own. I would have taught him to read, to sing, to say ‘Mama.’ But that dream was gone now. The title of Mrs. Thorne was never meant for me. This was my punishment, wasn’t it? For stealing a role that belonged to someone else. I slumped against the arm of the sofa, a hollow laugh escaping my lips. “I think… I think I’m really out of strength.” After sitting there for what felt like an eternity, I slowly rose and walked to the console table. I picked up the silver picture frame and laid it face down. Some say love is forever. But for me, love was over. 2 My hand was steady as I flicked the lighter, the tiny flame dancing as I held it to the corner of the heavy curtain tassel. Then, the phone rang, shrill and insistent. I turned my head, hesitating for a second, but I let it ring. It didn’t stop. It just kept calling, a relentless demand. Finally, I picked it up. “Hello?” “Why didn’t you answer?” The voice was cold, impatient. My mother. I watched the flame catch, a small orange flower blooming on the fabric. “Is something wrong?” “Stella’s liver… they’re saying there’s a problem. You need to go to the hospital and get tested as a match.” I coughed, a dry, racking sound. “Are you even listening to me?” I nodded, though she couldn’t see. The smoke was getting thicker, clawing at my throat. I coughed again, harder this time. “I understand.” “What’s with that cough?” “Too much smoke,” I rasped. “Something’s burning.” I didn’t wait for a reply. I dropped the phone, grabbed the small fire extinguisher from the kitchen, and blasted the nascent flame until it was nothing but a charred, ugly smudge. When the fire was out, I tossed the extinguisher aside and collapsed onto the scorched corner of the sofa, gasping for air. Finally, my hand moved to rest over my liver. My liver? Fine. If this was one last way I could help Stella, then maybe… maybe it would be enough to atone for my sins. 3 When I arrived at the hospital, my parents were already waiting outside her room. “What took you so long?” my mother snapped, her foot tapping impatiently on the polished floor. My gaze was flat, lifeless, as I took in the two people who had given me life but never a home. My father eventually placed a restraining hand on her arm. “That’s enough,” he murmured. He led the way into the hospital room. My eyes immediately found the bed, but the first person I saw wasn’t my sister. It was Lucas. My gaze dropped to the floor, deliberately ignoring the flicker of shock in his eyes. “I have to get to the office,” he said, rising to his feet. He gave my parents a stiff nod. For a man who was always so composed, he seemed almost flustered as he brushed past me. I lifted my head and stared out the window. Of course. He had never kept vigil at the hospital for me, not during either of my miscarriages. I had told myself it didn’t hurt anymore. But in that moment, a familiar sting pricked my eyes. It was gone as quickly as it came. My eyes were dry again. 4 The person on the bed was pale and still, lost in a deep, colorless sleep. I raised my hand. “What do you think you’re doing?” my mother’s voice was a harsh command. My hand simply settled on my sister’s head, gently smoothing a few stray strands of hair. Only after I was done did I turn to face them. “The compatibility test. When does it start?” My father seemed momentarily taken aback by the dead, cold calm in my voice. Just then, the doctor walked in. “Is she here?” he asked, before his eyes landed on me. He froze for a second, his professional demeanor faltering. 5 “You’re not a suitable candidate for this test.” I said nothing. “Nora, are you deaf?” my mother hissed. “Go home.” “I can do it,” I said, my voice quiet but firm, directed at the doctor. “Please.” With that, I turned and walked out of the room. “You—” the doctor started, following me into the hallway. “You just had a miscarriage a few days ago. Are you trying to kill yourself?” I paused at the door, my back to him. “It’s just a test. It won’t kill me.” Behind me, I heard him let out a long, weary sigh. 6 The number of tests they ran was endless. I ended up staying at the hospital for three days, figuring it was a good enough place to rest and recover. Finally, on the third day, it was over. I made my way up to the fifth floor, to the premium private suites. The sight of the perfect little family unit—father, mother, and daughter, all gathered together—made me stop in my tracks. It was my father who saw me first, beckoning me over. I nodded and stepped inside. “Dad, Mom. Stella.” “Well?” my mother asked immediately. “Are the results back?” “Not yet.” “I’m heading home now,” I said. My eyes met Stella’s for a fleeting second. She looked away almost instantly, her gaze dropping to her lap. “Fine, you can go,” my mother said, dismissing me with a wave of her hand. I nodded again. Just as I reached the door, my father called out. “Nora. I think Lucas must have dropped this. Could you take it to him?” I turned. He was holding out a small, intricately carved silver locket. It hung from a delicate chain, catching the light. I stared at it, frozen. “We found it the day Lucas was here.” My eyes instinctively flickered to Stella and my mother, then back to the locket. Reluctantly, I reached out and took it. “Okay.” As the door closed behind me, I heard their hushed voices. “What are you doing? Are you afraid she won’t get to see him enough?” “Something is wrong between them. I’m afraid they’re not going to make it.” I walked down the silent corridor and didn’t look back. 7 Thorne Enterprises. I waited for half an hour before Lucas finally finished his meeting. He strode into his office, and the moment he saw me, a frown creased his forehead. I drained the last sip of cold tea from the cup in my hand and stood up, holding out the locket. “I just came to give you this.” His eyes fell to the object in my palm, and his frown deepened with impatience. He didn’t take it. Was it because my hands had touched it? Was I that repulsive to him now? I turned and placed the locket on the polished surface of his massive desk. I gave a small nod, ready to leave. “Wait.” He walked towards the desk as I walked towards the door. I stopped. “Is there something else?” He gestured to the sofa. “Sit.” I stood there, motionless, for a few seconds. He took off his suit jacket but didn’t speak, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. I decided to break the silence. “Are you here to ask if the test was a success?” I was about to say the results weren’t back yet, but my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out. At the same moment, his phone buzzed on the desk. I understood. He had been monitoring the results from the hospital all along. A small, bitter smile touched my lips. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll go home. I should rest up, make sure I’m in the best possible condition for the surgery.” I was about to pull the door open when he spoke again, his voice strained. “Nora, after the transplant… let’s try to make this work. For real.” My hand froze on the doorknob. What… what did he just say? Was he finally willing to accept me? To accept the woman he had called the most wicked, manipulative person he knew? But… I don’t want to make it work with you anymore, Lucas. I’m so tired. So, so tired. I didn’t answer him. I just opened the door and walked away. 8 Back home, I put a whole chicken on to simmer and then left the kitchen. Adrift and empty, I turned on the television, the noise a meaningless buzz in the background. Eventually, I drifted off, a half-eaten bowl of soup on the coffee table, the TV screen flickering in the dark. When I woke the next day, I was still on the sofa. The house was silent, save for the soft rustle of sunlight filtering through the curtains. This place was too big. Too empty. I should get a cat. The thought was a sudden impulse. I grabbed my phone and started scrolling through pictures of kittens from a local shelter. I even picked one out, a little calico with big, curious eyes. Then I closed the app. A cat? No. A pet is a commitment for life, not a momentary whim to fill the silence. 9 A week before the surgery, I was admitted to the hospital. My mother came to visit. She sat for a long time, and we didn’t exchange a single word. She didn’t speak, and I had nothing to say. “I’m sorry,” she finally mumbled, staring at the floor. “All the private rooms on the fifth floor were taken. Otherwise, your father and I would have booked one for you.” I just nodded, turning my head to look out the window. “You used to be such a sweet talker when you were little. I don’t know what happened to you.” She sighed and stood up. “Well, I’m going back upstairs. I’ll come see you again later.” “Okay.” She left. My gaze drifted to the chair where she had sat, and to the basket of fruit she had left on the floor beside it. A small, humorless smile played on my lips. The way she had clutched the basket, shifting her weight awkwardly before scurrying out—it was almost comical. She felt guilty? Was that even possible? I really couldn’t understand her. Couldn’t she have just left the fruit upstairs with Stella and then come down to see me? But no. She detested me. Why would she ever make a special trip just for me? 10 Today was the last round of pre-op checks. The surgery was tomorrow. I returned to my room, clutching a folder full of my medical reports. The room was as cold and empty as ever. I sat on the edge of the bed, my mind adrift. Why was it so quiet? Oh, right. Lucas. Didn’t he say he wanted to “make things work”? He never came home during the days I was recovering. He hadn’t visited me once during the week I’d been in the hospital. Was this his idea of trying? No. He said after the surgery, we’d make things work. I knew what it really meant. It wasn’t about love. It was about debt. He felt he owed me, and he was willing to pay with the rest of his life. As long as Stella was healthy, he would have nothing left to wish for. 11 The day of the surgery. Just as Stella and I were about to be wheeled into the operating theater, Lucas arrived, rushing down the hall. “Dad, Mom, I’m so scared,” Stella whimpered. “It’s okay, sweetie, it’s okay,” my mother cooed, adjusting the surgical cap on Stella’s head. “Just think of it as taking a nap. The doctor said you’ll be perfectly healthy when you wake up.” “Are they going in now?” Lucas asked, breathless. “Yes.” Stella pulled her hand from our mother’s grasp and reached for Lucas. He instinctively moved to take it. But then, she drew her hand back, offering a weak smile instead. “Lucas, you came.” His hand froze in mid-air. He glanced at me, then quickly retracted it. “Yes. It’s a very advanced procedure now. Don’t be afraid.” “Okay.” She smiled again. “You should say something to Nora. She’s been waiting for you.” Lucas nodded and turned to me. But his lips seemed sealed, weighed down by a thousand unspoken words. He just stared. The surgical team, scrubbed and masked, moved in. “Alright, it’s time to go. Family, please clear the way.” The gurneys began to roll. In that last moment, fear finally broke through Stella’s composure. She reached out again, her voice a desperate whisper of the name that was always on her lips. “Lucas.” “Don’t be afraid,” he said, his hand briefly touching the rail of her gurney as she was wheeled past him. My gurney was in the lead. I watched the whole scene unfold with a strange, detached calm. Quietly. Peacefully. The heavy doors of the operating room began to slide shut, slowly eclipsing Lucas’s tall, solitary figure. I closed my eyes. Just as the anesthesia began its cold creep through my veins, I heard a soft voice beside me. “Thank you, Nora. For being willing to do this for me.” As consciousness faded, I managed a final whisper. “You’re welcome.” 12 A long, numb dream. It was a kaleidoscope of fractured images and muffled sounds. I felt like I was blindfolded, wandering through an empty corridor. A voice seemed to echo from nowhere. If you had known this life would be like this, would you still have chosen to come? I turned towards the voice, but there was nothing there. The scene shifted. I was floating above an operating room. Doctors were huddled, their voices low and urgent. “Why did they take so much?” “The consent form said seventy percent, didn’t it?” “Seventy? That’s insane. Can the donor even recover from that?” … Wasn’t I still alive? Why did I feel so light, like my body was drifting away? I floated further, watching the scene below. There was so much blood on the operating table. So much. “They’re sisters, you know. But the mother clearly favors the older one. It’s like she wanted them to take more, just to be sure.” “And the younger one didn’t object?” “She just looked at the form, then stared out the window. Didn’t say a word.” “God, I just wanted to go over and hug her.” I didn’t know where I was drifting. I just kept floating away. 13 Four days later. I slowly opened my eyes. My limbs felt like they were nailed to the bed, heavy and without sensation. Only my eyes could move, darting around the stark white room. “You’re awake.” A young nurse leaned over me, her face breaking into a kind smile. I managed a small nod. “Would you like some water? I can help you.” “Thank you…” I rasped. She poured a small cup of water and placed a straw to my lips. The simple act of swallowing sent a searing pain through my entire body. “Easy does it,” she said gently. “Just sip slowly.” After two small sips, she took the cup away. “My sister,” I whispered, “she…” “Stella Hayes? She woke up yesterday. Already moved out of the ICU.” Good. That was good. I nodded again, relieved. “Um…” the nurse started, then hesitated. I slowly turned my gaze to her. She seemed to be steeling herself. “Are… are you two really sisters?” I let my eyelids fall shut. “And that handsome man… is he your husband? Or… your sister’s?” Her voice was a mixture of curiosity and pity. I could guess what had happened in the ICU over the past few days, while both Stella and I lay unconscious. I didn’t answer. I just let the heavy darkness pull me back under. 14 Two days later, I was moved out of the ICU. There was still no private room available. I used my phone to hire a private care aide to help me with medications and errands. Most of the time, I just slept. My body was overwhelmed by a profound exhaustion. Logically, I should have been getting stronger each day. But I just couldn’t seem to wake up. I wanted to go home, but I didn’t even have the strength to get dressed. I didn’t want to be a burden on the hospital’s resources, so I just prayed for the day I’d have enough energy to leave. One afternoon, my mother came to see me. She had brought soup. The aide was setting up my tray table for dinner when my mother dismissed her. She opened the thermos, and the rich aroma of fish broth filled the air. “Don’t eat that hospital food,” she said, her head bowed as she poured the soup. “It has no nutrition. Drink this.” For the first time, I felt something other than contempt from her. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t look at me; it was that she couldn’t bear to look at me. I knew what I must look like. So thin my chin had become a sharp point. I reached for the spoon, but my hand, bruised and swollen from countless IVs, trembled violently. She took the spoon from me, lifted the bowl, and brought a spoonful to my lips. “Here.” I stared at her for a long moment, then opened my mouth and sipped the warm liquid. One spoonful after another. She fed me with a quiet, tireless patience. That afternoon, even the sunlight streaming through the window felt warm. When the soup was gone, she closed the thermos and sat for a while longer. “Is there anything else you want to eat?” I shook my head. “I’m full.” She nodded and continued to sit in silence. I noticed a few strands of silver in her dark hair. The hospital vigil must have taken its toll. “Well, I’m going back,” she said finally. “I’ll come see you again.” I nodded. As she walked around the foot of the bed, a wave of anxiety washed over me. “Mom,” I called out, my voice weak. “Is Stella… is she doing better?” She nodded. “She’s recovering very well. She’s already been dischar—” She stopped abruptly, realizing her mistake. I froze. Stella was already home. My mother’s face flushed with embarrassment. But I just smiled. “That’s good. I’m glad.” She nodded quickly and hurried out of the room. As her footsteps faded down the hall, a desperate urge to see her one last time seized me. I pushed myself up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, and shuffled out into the corridor. I watched her retreating back grow smaller and smaller. Will you really come back next time? No. Probably not. But that was okay. Don’t come back. I was being discharged soon, too. Her figure disappeared around the corner. And the tears finally fell, silent and slow. It was just like when I was a child, abandoned at the amusement park. I had watched that same back walk away, growing smaller and smaller, no matter how fast I ran. No one knew. I was lost at three. I didn’t find my way back to the Hayes family until I was thirteen. And no one, no one knew that in those ten lost years, I had endured countless beatings, been tricked and betrayed more times than I could count. And when I finally came home, nobody liked me anyway. They said my eyes looked greedy. Selfish. That I was a bad seed. None of that ever really hurt me. The thing that broke me, the thing I carried like a stone in my heart, was the truth I finally confirmed. It was never about getting lost. It was about being left. Mother, that year, you abandoned me on purpose.

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1 My husband was cheating, and he wanted me to walk away from our marriage with nothing. Heartbroken, I decided to jump off a bridge. I had just climbed over the railing when a voice suddenly spoke from inside my belly: 【Mom! Don’t do it!】 【I’ve been reborn! In my last life, that deadbeat dad kicked us out for his mistress, and then he won eighty million dollars from a lottery ticket he found!】 The news just made me sadder. I was about to let go when the voice piped up again: 【I know the winning numbers for that ticket. We can snatch it from him. You can’t die!】 【But first things first: Deadbeat Dad has a stash of cash hidden in the bedroom ceiling. Let’s grab the money, then we can divorce him!】 My legs stopped shaking. My heart stopped pounding. The first thing I did when I got home was borrow a ladder and start taking apart the ceiling. … I’d run home in tears, so the housekeeper didn’t dare stop me. I locked the bedroom door. I set up the ladder, kicked off my shoes, and glanced down at my slightly rounded belly. “Son, you sure about the location? Your father will be back soon. If we get this wrong, we won’t get a second chance.” A voice, young but full of swagger, echoed in my mind: 【Trust me, Mom! In the last life, this was his favorite spot to hide gold bars.】 【Third panel from the left. Push hard!】 I took a deep breath and climbed the ladder. My hands were trembling. Not from fear, but from excitement. To force me into a divorce, Liam had frozen all my cards. He called it giving me time to “cool off,” but really, he was cutting off my resources to make me submit. And he wanted me to leave with nothing? In his dreams. I pushed hard against the decorative drop-ceiling tile. A cloud of dust rained down, stinging my eyes. But I didn’t have time to rub them. Because my fingers had touched a heavy canvas bag. Damn, it was heavy. I struggled to drag the bag out, nearly losing my balance and falling off the ladder. 【Careful, Mom! A fall like that, and it’s game over for both of us!】 “Don’t jinx it.” With trembling hands, I opened the bag. A golden glint nearly blinded me. It was full of gold bars. I’d never seen this much physical gold in my life. I dug deeper and found a stack of hundred-dollar bills underneath. “How much is in here?” 【About five million. It’s money Deadbeat Dad siphoned from the company behind his partner’s back. It was supposed to be his startup fund to go live it up overseas with that homewrecker.】 【In the last life, you foolishly jumped off that bridge and let those two get away with everything!】 【They used this money to reinvent themselves abroad, then came back as famous entrepreneurs and forgot you ever existed!】 Hearing that, a fire ignited in my chest. Liam, you bastard. I was with you when we were building this from nothing, when we were scraping by on instant noodles. You get rich, and not only do you find a mistress, but you hide a fortune and hope I’ll just die? I took the gold bars out one by one and packed them into a suitcase I’d prepared. “What happens when Liam comes back and finds the money gone?” I worried, staring at the dark hole in the ceiling. If he found out, forget divorce. I might not make it out of this house alive today. 2 【Are you kidding, Mom?】 【Stuff a few of those old books from that box in there to give it some weight, then put the panel back!】 【He won’t open that thing for years. By the time he notices, we’ll be long gone!】 It hit me. Of course. I grabbed a few of the dense, academic books Liam kept on a high shelf to look smart, shoved them into the canvas bag, and placed it back in the ceiling. I carefully clicked the panel back into place. I even wiped away my fingerprints from the edges. When I was done, I sat on the floor, my heart hammering against my ribs like a drum. This was more thrilling than standing on the edge of that bridge. Just then, I heard the front door open downstairs. It was Liam’s impatient voice. “Maria, is that crazy woman back yet?” I froze. 【Mom! Don’t lose your nerve!】 【You’re the victim here. You have to act completely broken, make him think you’ve given up the fight!】 I kicked the suitcase full of gold deep under the bed. Then, I mussed my hair, sat on the edge of the bed, and summoned the despair. The tears came on command. When Liam pushed the door open, he was greeted by the sight of my “utterly defeated” self. A flash of disgust crossed his face. “Not dead yet? I thought you had more backbone.” He loosened his tie, his expression dripping with annoyance. “Since you’re still here, you can sign this.” A set of divorce papers slapped against my face. “If you agree to walk away with nothing, I’ll even pay for you to get rid of the thing in your belly. After all, it’ll be hard for you to remarry with a kid in tow.” Get rid of it? Even the most vicious animals don’t eat their young. How could he say something so monstrous? Hatred grew in my heart like a weed. But I knew this wasn’t the time to let it show. I slowly lifted my head, my eyes vacant. Just as my son taught me, I had to play the part of a woman whose heart was shattered beyond repair. “Liam, after seven years of marriage, are you really going to be this cruel?” My voice was hoarse and trembling. Liam scoffed and lit a cigarette, completely ignoring the fact that I was pregnant. “Hannah, we’re adults. Let’s not make this ugly.” “Jenna’s pregnant. It’s a boy. I need to give them a proper family.” “We don’t even know if yours is a boy or a girl. If it’s a girl, I’d be losing out.” 【Please! I’m your daddy!】 my little ancestor cursed from inside. 【Ignore him, Mom. The idiot doesn’t even know the kid his mistress is carrying isn’t his!】 【It’s her personal trainer’s!】 I almost burst out laughing. I quickly bowed my head, covering my face with my hands as my shoulders shook. To Liam, I was sobbing my heart out. “Fine… I’ll sign.” I looked up, my face streaked with tears, my eyes full of grim resolve. “But I have one condition.” Liam frowned, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You want money? Let me tell you, the company has no cash on the books right now. I’m drowning in debt…” “I don’t want money.” I cut him off, my voice tragic. “I just want to take my clothes and some of my personal things.” “I don’t want anything else in this house.” “I want to make a clean break from you.” Liam was stunned. He clearly hadn’t expected me to be so agreeable. A flicker of delight crossed his face before he quickly suppressed it. “Fine. Glad you’ve got some sense.” “Pack your things and get out tonight. We’ll go to the courthouse first thing in the morning.” With that, he turned and left, as if looking at me for a second longer would bring him bad luck. The moment the door closed, I wiped away my tears. I dragged the suitcase out from under the bed. I covered the gold with a layer of old clothes and threw in some cheap toiletries. Then I wheeled the suitcase out, ready for a quick exit. Liam was on the sofa, video-chatting with Jenna, his voice dripping with a tenderness I hadn’t heard in years. When he saw me, he stood up and walked over. “Hold on. Open it. I want to make sure you didn’t take anything you shouldn’t have.” 3 My heart leaped into my throat. For a second, I debated whether I should just knock him out and run. But when Liam saw my clothes, he just curled his lip in disdain. “Is that all you’re taking? This junk? You sure you don’t want to look again? Don’t say I never gave you a chance.” I gave him a pitiful smile. “No, thank you. Everything in this house… is tainted.” Liam’s face darkened. “Get out! Just get out!” I pushed the heavy suitcase out of the door that I once thought was the entrance to my forever home. The moment I was out of the complex, I hailed a cab and went straight to a five-star hotel downtown. 【Nice one, Mom!】 【That scumbag is probably still dreaming about all his money. His face when he finds that empty ceiling is going to be priceless.】 【But we have to hurry, Mom.】 【After you get the divorce finalized tomorrow, we have to buy that lottery ticket!】 【Eighty million dollars is waiting!】 I sat in the back of the cab, watching the city lights blur past. The knot of resentment that had been strangling me for so long finally started to loosen. Liam, you think you got rid of a washed-up housewife. You have no idea you just kicked your personal cash cow out the door. That night, in a luxury suite, I ordered a seafood feast I never would have dreamed of affording before. As I devoured a king crab leg, my son filled me in on the gossip from his past life. Apparently, after I’d died by suicide, Liam hadn’t shed a single tear. Instead, he released a statement saying I’d had mental health issues. He used my death to craft a public persona of a devoted, grieving husband, and his company’s stock soared. The mistress, Jenna, used my life insurance payout to buy limited-edition handbags. They even had my ashes scattered over some random, godforsaken mountain. Hearing this, I crushed the crab leg in my hand. “Son, I will get revenge for you. I swear it.” 【You bet! And Mom, there’s going to be a big show at the courthouse tomorrow.】 【Jenna will definitely be there to gloat.】 【You have to hold back. Whatever you do, don’t hit her.】 【Because… all her designer stuff is fake. The color will rub off if you touch it, and then she’ll try to sue us for damages.】 I snorted with laughter. This kid was even more savage than I was. The next morning, at the courthouse. Liam was practically glowing, his hair slicked back with gel. Clinging to his arm was Jenna. Her pregnant belly was on full display in a tight dress, as if to make sure everyone knew. Seeing me standing there alone, Jenna covered her mouth and giggled. “Oh, dear. You look terrible. Did you have nowhere to stay last night? Sleep under a bridge?” Liam patted her on the butt, feigning concern. “Don’t say that. You’ll upset Hannah and she’ll go jump off another one.” Then he turned to me with a condescending look. “You have your papers? Let’s get this over with. I have to get back to the office.” 4 I ignored them and walked straight inside. Sign, stamp, collect the certificate. I was completely silent and cooperative through the entire process. The moment the divorce decree was in his hand, Liam let out a huge sigh of relief, as if he’d just shed a massive burden. As we walked out, Jenna deliberately kissed him right in front of me. “We’re finally free, honey! Let’s go celebrate!” Liam wrapped an arm around her, pinching her cheek affectionately. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Then he turned to me, pulled a few crisp hundred-dollar bills from his wallet, and threw them on the ground. “Here. For the cab. Don’t say I have no heart.” The bills fluttered to the pavement, mocking my powerlessness. People around us started to stare and whisper. I bent down. A triumphant smirk spread across Liam and Jenna’s faces. They thought I was going to pick up the money. Instead, I just retied my shoelace. When I stood up, I planted my foot on the bills and ground them into the dirty concrete. “Keep it, Liam. You might need it for your medical bills.” “You have a dark cloud hanging over you. I sense a great disaster in your future.” Liam’s face turned green with rage. “Hannah! Don’t push your luck!” Jenna shrieked, “Who are you cursing?” I just smiled coldly, hailed a cab, and left them standing there. In the car, my palms were sweating. “Son, what if he finds out the stuff in the ceiling is gone?” 【So what if he does?】 【The divorce is final, and the asset division agreement is signed.】 【It says in black and white that personal belongings are not to be shared.】 【Those gold bars are your ‘personal belongings.’ Does he have any proof they were his?】 【That was his secret stash, money he couldn’t legally account for! You think he’s going to call the cops and admit to embezzling company assets?】 I slapped my thigh. He was right! Liam was completely screwed. He had to eat this loss. Now, for the most important part: the lottery ticket. Following my son’s instructions, I went to a nondescript convenience store on the outskirts of the city. “Five quick picks, please.” 【No! Mom! Not quick picks!】 【I’ll give you the numbers, write them down!】 【05, 12, 19, 26, 31, and the power numbers, 08, 14.】 I quickly corrected myself. “Sorry, I’d like to choose my own numbers.” Holding that thin slip of paper, I felt it burn hotter than the bag of gold. Eighty million dollars. If this hit, I’d be set for life. “Son, are you sure about this?” 【Positive! In the last life, the winner was a homeless man. He bought a bottle of booze, got drunk, and lost the ticket. Deadbeat Dad found it and claimed the prize.】 【This time, we’re cutting him off at the pass!】 Just as excitement surged through me, the ticket was snatched from my hand. I looked up. It was Liam.

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After we turned eighteen, our mom let us draw Systems. My sister got lucky and drew the Genius System. I was unlucky and drew the Loser System. Later, my sister became a successful entrepreneur. However, she was constantly guilt-tripped by our parents and drained dry by our relatives. Because she refused to help one time, a relative held a grudge and reported to the authorities that she possessed a System. My sister was taken by the Research Institute, used as a test subject, and died miserably on the operating table. Meanwhile, because I was timid and easy to control, a wealthy young heir from a top family praised me for being obedient and sensible, spending three hundred million dollars to marry me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Mom let us draw our Systems. My sister, ignoring Mom’s attempts to stop her, snatched the Loser System. “Sister, this time it’s my turn to enjoy the wealthy life. As for you, just wait to become a lab rat!” Meeting her vicious gaze, I smiled. She lived a whole life but learned nothing. No wonder she was played like a fiddle in her past life. 1 “Kiki, you always said Mom favored your sister. This time, you draw first.” Mom looked benevolent as she handed the box containing the Systems to me. Seeing I didn’t move, she affectionately grabbed my hand and tried to shove it into the box. “Child, why are you being so polite?” “Why should she draw first? I’m the older sister, seniority matters, I should go first!” My sister, who had been dazing beside us, suddenly pushed me away and impatiently thrust her hand into the box. Mom tried to move the box away, but my sister held it down firmly. My sister opened the System she drew from the box; it was the Loser System. She wept with joy and looked at me with pity. At this moment, I was absolutely certain my sister had also been reborn. In our past life, my sister luckily bonded with the Genius System and her life took off. She went from a poor student to a top scholar, got into a prestigious university, started a successful business right after graduation, and became an enviable female CEO. Unfortunately, she was led by the nose by our parents. Helping a cousin on Dad’s side today, helping an uncle on Mom’s side tomorrow. These relatives were like leeches, clinging to her and sucking her dry. One time, a leech relative made an excessive demand, and my sister refused. Ignoring all her past kindness, the relative reported to the Research Institute that she had a System. My sister was taken away, used as a lab rat, and died on the operating table. I, on the other hand, bonded with the Loser System. I was timid and easy to control. A wealthy young heir praised me for being obedient and sensible, spending three hundred million to marry me into his wealthy family. My in-laws were kind, my husband doted on me. I became the envy of women nationwide. My sister was always jealous. Before she died, she told the researchers that I also had a System. I tried to escape in my car, but the Institute’s vehicles forced me off a cliff. I died without a trace. 2 “The Loser System belongs to your sister! Even if you drew it, it’s hers! You’re the older sister, you can’t snatch your sister’s things!” Mom looked stern and anxious, trying to snatch the System from my sister’s hand. I watched Mom’s performance with mockery. Heh. When Chloe snatched my clothes, my toys, even my awards before, why didn’t Mom say those were mine? In my past life, after I married into the wealthy family, Chloe came to my house and made a scene. That was when I learned that from the very beginning, Mom intended for me to draw the Loser System. She wanted Chloe to get the Genius System, but she was afraid that giving it directly to Chloe would make people say she was biased and that Chloe bullied her sister. So to have the best of both worlds, she customized a box. Only after the first System was drawn would the second one be released. She pre-loaded the box with the Loser System. Whoever drew first would get the Loser System. After that, the Genius System would be released. And I foolishly thought in my past life that although Mom favored Chloe growing up, she was fair about something as life-altering as drawing Systems. Chloe hid the Loser System tightly behind her back, glancing at me unkindly. “Give me the Loser System!” Mom glared at Chloe, wishing she could knock some sense into her. She winked furiously at Chloe, hinting like crazy. Several times, the truth almost burst out of her mouth. But Chloe was extremely wary of Mom. Just as Mom turned to call Dad over to restrain Chloe and hand over the System, Chloe bonded with the Loser System. Hearing the unique sound of System binding, Mom turned back quickly, but it was too late to stop it. Mom was furious and hateful, raising her hand to slap. She couldn’t bear to hit Chloe, so she turned abruptly and slapped me hard across the face. “Why didn’t you draw quickly? Making Chloe act first, are you trying to piss me off?” Chloe bonding with the Loser System was a done deal. Mom hatefully threw the box on the ground and dragged Chloe away. Passing by me, Chloe looked radiant, leaning close to my ear and whispering: “Sister, this time it’s my turn to enjoy the wealthy life. As for you, just wait to be dragged into the lab!” Meeting her vicious gaze, I smiled. She lived a whole life but learned nothing. She deserved to be played in her past life. The box rolled a few times on the ground, and the Genius System fell out, rolling to my feet. I squatted down to pick it up, carefully wiped it clean, and followed the procedure to bond with it. 3 I was not the child my parents expected. When Mom was pregnant with me, her career was on the rise. She and Dad had agreed to abort me. But a checkup at the hospital, with a relative working there hinting it was a boy, changed their minds. Persuaded by Dad and Grandma, Mom decided to keep the baby. They meticulously prepared a nursery, superhero toys… for their future son. They even booked a luxury confinement center, afraid their son wouldn’t be well taken care of after birth. But they were disappointed. The baby born was me, not the son they longed for. Mom blamed me for losing her career, Dad blamed me for his empty joy, Grandma muttered about raising another money-losing girl. The adults in the family shook their heads when they saw me. My birth was a mistake from the start. When Mom was pregnant, Dad and Grandma assumed it was a boy and were busy taking care of Mom, neglecting Chloe somewhat. From then on, she hated me to the core. After I was born, with no love from parents or grandparents, I naturally became her slave and toy. When she first started bullying me, she was careful, only doing it behind the adults’ backs, afraid of being discovered. Later, realizing my parents didn’t care about me, she became harsher. After bullying me, she would go to our parents and tattle. My parents believed her every time, even listening to her suggestions on how to punish me. 4 The next day. Mom told me there was no money for my study materials or my tutoring fees. She forcefully shoved me into a relative’s sweatshop. “You’re almost an adult; you can’t just stay home leeching off your dad and me.” But turning around, they signed Chloe up for a boarding personality training camp, attempting to intervene with the System’s energy and prevent Chloe from becoming a loser. Chloe sprawled on the sofa and rolled her eyes. “What are you worrying about? I’m going to marry into a wealthy family later. Just wait to enjoy life!” Mom and Dad wouldn’t give up and tied her up to take her to the training camp. But two weeks later, they brought back a heartbroken, crying Chloe. Chloe liked to show off, and someone didn’t like it and mocked her. In the past, Chloe would have definitely bitten back and scolded the person until they cried. But because she bonded with the Loser System, Chloe became timid and dared not resist. Seeing she was a pushover, her bullies went further and further. Driven to despair, Chloe threatened to jump off a building. The school had no choice but to contact our parents. Unwilling to let their beloved daughter continue to suffer, my parents tearfully brought her home. However, they still hadn’t given up on changing Chloe’s personality. Mom and Dad hired a personality trainer with a high salary to come to our home for one-on-one training with Chloe. They were full of hope. But whatever the trainer asked Chloe to do, she managed to screw it up from angles ordinary people couldn’t imagine. In the end, the trainer was willing to refund all fees just to stop teaching Chloe. The trainer bluntly said she was afraid of catching Chloe’s incompetence and cowardice. When the trainer left, Chloe’s eyes were shining with joy. From then on, she didn’t have to do anything and lived a carefree, god-like life. After all, whatever Mom and Dad asked her to do, she messed up. A few times she even caused Mom and Dad to pay large compensations, wasting all their retirement savings. Mom and Dad had to give up on changing Chloe’s personality. They set their sights on me.

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The day the pork stamp was pressed against my cheek, I was reborn. It was a joke, a little prank from Lucas’s young secretary during what was meant to be our seventh-anniversary dinner. She was pouring me a glass of wine when she did it, laughing as the greasy, purple ink branded my skin. This time, I didn’t slap her like I did in my last life. And I didn’t scream at Lucas like a madwoman, demanding a divorce when he rushed to her defense. Instead, I just smiled at him, a calm, serene little smile. “She’s really something, isn’t she? You two have fun.” I picked up my purse. “Let’s just consider our anniversary celebration officially over. I’m heading home.” I walked out of that private dining room without a backward glance. What else could I do? The last time I divorced Lucas, my life became a living hell. He crushed me with the same ruthless precision he used on his business rivals, holding onto every asset with a death grip. I consulted every lawyer in the city and walked away with a grand total of forty-eight dollars. Right after the divorce, I was diagnosed with cancer. When the pain became unbearable, I swallowed my pride and went to him, kneeling at his feet. But he just stood there, letting his new secretary slap me three times across the face before turning me away without a single cent. Broke and alone, I froze to death on the doorstep of the house we had shared for seven years. So no, dignity is not more important than life. 1 I didn’t expect him to follow me out. He grabbed my arm, his grip tight. “Sophie, let me explain. Jenna is just young and playful. She thought the pork stamp would be a funny way to break the ice.” “She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body,” he continued, his voice softening. “We grew up together. She’s always been a little mischief-maker, and since you’re my wife, she probably just got a little too comfortable and forgot her boundaries. Don’t be angry with her.” He’d said the exact same thing in my last life. Back then, humiliated and shaking with rage, his gentle defense of another woman had been the final straw. In front of all our friends, I had slapped him across the face, screamed the word “divorce,” and stormed out. I was so naive then, thinking the threat of leaving him actually meant something. I walked the streets for four hours in a cold, miserable winter drizzle, tears streaming down my face. My heels rubbed my ankles raw until they bled. I caught a fever that spiked to 104 degrees. And as I lay in our bed, shivering and sick, Lucas never called. He didn’t even try to find me. Instead, he and Jenna flew to Europe on a business trip that very night. Pictures of him adjusting the strap of her cocktail dress, of her leaning in to kiss his cheek, were all over his company’s gossip forums. The memory was so bitterly ironic that a small, mocking smile touched my lips. That smile seemed to snap something in him. He suddenly shoved my hand away, his voice sharp with anger. “How many times do I have to tell you? Jenna is the daughter of my dad’s old friend. I’m just looking out for her.” “It was a stupid pork stamp. Go home and wash it off. Can you stop being so ridiculously jealous and making up stories about us in your head?” The sudden fury on his face sent a familiar ache through my chest. But the pain wasn’t for him. It was for the woman I used to be. In my last life, I had pancreatic cancer, one of the most agonizing forms of the disease. My days were a blur of nurses jabbing me with long needles, leaving me a sniffling, tear-streaked mess. At night, I would curl into a ball on the floor, clutching my stomach, sobbing and praying for a quick death. When I ran out of money, I’d take a fruit knife and cut into my own emaciated flesh, just hoping the new pain would offer a moment’s distraction, a chance for a full night’s sleep. Even then, even in that state, I couldn’t bring myself to sell our wedding rings for another dose of painkillers. When the doctor told me I had a month to live, I dragged my skeletal frame to his house, planning to beg him to take me back. He had sworn, after my parents died, that he would take care of me for the rest of my life. I finally found my way back to the home we’d shared for seven years. I had to kneel and beg the security guard just to get him to call Lucas for me. When he answered, I barely managed to whisper his name before he cut me off, his voice flat and cold. “Sophie, we’re divorced. That means we have nothing to do with each other anymore. Whatever is happening in your life, don’t call me again.” He hung up. I collapsed in the backyard of that sprawling mansion. In the final moments of my life, as my vision faded, I saw him through the window. He was holding Jenna, laughing in the home I had so carefully decorated, drinking from the wine glasses I had chosen, sharing a sweet, intimate kiss. The memory was a suffocating weight. I pushed it down, forcing the smile back onto my face. “Lucas, I’m really not jealous. And I’m not mad at Jenna,” I said, my voice even. “I’m just tired and I want to go home. You should go back inside.” Surprise flickered across his face. While he was still processing my words, I turned and walked away without another glance. 2 The first thing I did when I got home was go to my room, lock the door, and call the hospital. I booked an appointment for a full check-up with a top specialist for the next morning. Whether it was this life or the last, all I ever wanted was to live. I had just hung up when Lucas came home. I didn’t know he’d be back so soon. He was yanking at his tie, his face a mask of irritation. “What was that on the street just now?” he demanded. “Sophie, can you stop pulling a long face over every little thing?” Ever since Jenna had become his secretary, he had become relentlessly critical of me. Nothing I did was ever right. It was his sudden change in attitude, coupled with Jenna’s constant provocations, that had driven me to madness in our last marriage. I suppressed the suffocating pain in my chest and turned to face him calmly. “Lucas, believe it or not, I’m not angry. I’m not trying to cause a scene, and I’m not giving you the silent treatment.” I gestured to my face. “See? The pork stamp is all washed off. I’m not holding a grudge against you, and I certainly don’t have the energy to hold one against Jenna.” Without waiting for a reply, I turned and locked myself in the bathroom. When I came out, Lucas was gone. But my phone was blowing up. It was Jenna’s signature move. Whenever she was with him, she would bombard me with photos of them together, treating my inbox like her personal photo dump. In my past life, her pictures would send me into fits of tears or rages that I’d take out on Lucas. This time, I looked at the photo she sent and typed a reply. I wasn’t insulting. In fact, I was very sincere. “You’re holding the phone at the wrong angle,” I wrote. “Lucas’s profile is his better side. Try holding it higher next time.” “Also, there’s too much empty space in the shot. Crop it tighter so you two look closer, more intimate.” A reply came back almost instantly. “Did someone hack your account?” I sent her a smiling emoji. “Nope. Just wanted to let you know, he’s all yours.” Then, I blocked her number. This new arrangement worked for me. I’d keep the title of Mrs. Hayes and the supplementary credit card. Jenna could have his body and his time. It was a much better deal than the one I’d fought for last time, when all I’d foolishly wanted was his love. 3 After dealing with Jenna, I lay down and closed my eyes. But even with a second chance at life, sleep didn’t come easily. Just like when I was sick, my dreams were haunted by our past. When we were kids, Lucas was painfully shy and introverted. His mother, a renowned teacher, was relentlessly hard on him. She would beat him for every mistake. I remember seeing him late at night, sometimes midnight when I’d already been asleep for hours, hunched over his desk under the harsh glare of a lamp. He’d be wearing his thick glasses, scribbling away at worksheets while his mother stood over him with a cane, bringing it down hard on his back for every wrong answer. I lived across the street, and it broke my heart to watch. So, whenever I got a piece of candy, I would secretly slip it into his backpack on the way to school. “Lucas,” I’d whisper with a smile, “eat one when your back hurts.” The first time I did it, his face turned beet red. He waited until I was a hundred feet away before mumbling, “I… I don’t eat candy.” I just waved back at him. “You should talk more, Lucas. You have a really nice voice.” It became our ritual. The quiet, solitary Lucas started waiting for me on the walk to school, waiting for me to slip a piece of candy into his bag. We walked that little alleyway outside our neighborhood through countless springs, summers, and winters. Then came our high school graduation. Lucas, the valedictorian, was heading to a top university. He awkwardly handed me a brochure for another school. “I looked it up,” he stammered, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s only a ten-minute walk from my campus. Your scores aren’t high enough for a four-year degree, but you could get into their two-year program.” Looking at his earnest, nervous face, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that my parents had already decided I would go to a four-year university, even a lesser-known one. They said they could afford it. So, I secretly changed my application, against their wishes. The decision earned me a tag-team lecture from both of them, but I never regretted it. We went to college in the same city. Away from his mother, Lucas blossomed. He swapped his thick glasses for contacts, grew out his buzz cut into soft curls, and traded his plaid shirts for crisp, white button-downs. His ever-present black sneakers were replaced with stylish white ones. I had no idea what prompted the change until one day, I was squealing with excitement because my favorite band was coming to town. Lucas grabbed my arm, his eyes red-rimmed. “I changed everything to be the person you’d like,” he said, his voice trembling. “Is it still not enough to make you like me back?” The word “like” hit me like a physical blow. Even though we were at different schools, I knew about the legend of Lucas Hayes. He was a programming prodigy, winning national competitions as a freshman and landing offers from major tech firms by his sophomore year. A group of girls had even started an online forum dedicated to documenting his transformation. I always thought there was an ocean between us, that we would never be more than friends. But here he was, telling me he liked me. Never one to be shy, I stood on my toes and kissed him. We started dating. My main role, as I saw it, was to supply him with a steady stream of my favorite milk teas, desserts, and pastries. I had no life plan; my days revolved around what to feed Lucas, where to take him, what to do for fun. Meanwhile, his life continued its meteoric rise. He started his own company while in grad school, secured multiple rounds of funding right after, and by the time he finished his PhD, his tech firm was in the top ten in the country. My life, in stark contrast, felt cursed. I failed the exam to transfer to a four-year program. After graduation, I lived entirely off the allowance Lucas gave me. Then, in my second year out of college, my parents, who had always doted on me, were rushing to see me in the hospital for a bout of pneumonia when they were killed in a car crash. I was an orphan. I clung to their bodies, my tears soaking through the sterile white sheets. And Lucas knelt beside me, in front of them, and under the cold, disapproving gaze of his mother, he swore he would take care of me for the rest of my life. We got married. I had multiple miscarriages, losing every pregnancy. Then, he met Jenna. He started to find fault with me. I was shallow, he said. All I ever did was ask him what he wanted to eat or drink. I wasn’t like Jenna, who could discuss world-famous paintings with him, who could debate the future of the tech industry. Tears welled in my eyes. I blinked them open to find the room filled with morning light. Just like in my last life, my pillow was soaked through. Just then, a text from Lucas came through. We’re visiting my mom at the nursing home this afternoon. 4 I looked at the message and replied calmly: I have something on today. Can’t make it. His call came instantly. “What do you have on today?” he demanded. “Sophie, how many times do I have to tell you there’s nothing going on between me and Jenna? Why do you have to keep harping on this one little thing?” A bitter smile touched my lips. Ever since his company took off, Lucas had become a man of few words. For him to circle back to the same topic over and over… was he trying to convince himself he wasn’t interested in Jenna, or was he just trying to ease his own guilt? A shiver of pain went through me, but my voice was steady. “Lucas, I don’t feel well. I have a hospital appointment. I really can’t go with you to see your mom today.” “Besides,” I added, “she has a heart condition, and she’s never liked me. Isn’t it better if I don’t go and upset her? And doesn’t she adore Jenna? She’s always saying that only someone of Jenna’s status is good enough for you. Why don’t you take her instead?” I genuinely thought I was offering a reasonable solution. But it only made him angrier. “Fine, Sophie. Keep playing your games.” He hung up. Listening to the dial tone, I let out another small, humorless laugh. See? That was the difference between being loved and not being loved. The old Lucas, the one who loved me, would panic at the slightest hint of sadness on my face, asking frantically what he’d done wrong. The Lucas of today, the one who didn’t love me, heard a sincere suggestion and still thought I was just trying to stir up trouble. 5 The ache in my chest was a familiar weight, but I didn’t let it delay me. I went straight to the hospital. I deliberately left my phone at home, afraid that another call would ruin my mood. This check-up was too important. It would determine whether or not I was destined to repeat the fate of my past life. For the next seven days, I stayed at the hospital, undergoing biopsies, blood tests, and endless scans. I had to thank Lucas’s reputation—and his bank account—for the quality of my care. By dropping his name, I was able to see a specialist who, in my last life, I had waited a month just to get an appointment with. Now, he saw me first on his rounds every single morning. In my past life, I’d had to sell my bags and jewelry to afford treatment. I had no special access, which meant a new trip to the hospital for every test, waiting two hours for a blood draw, a week for a CT scan. This time, thanks to Lucas, I just had to lie in a VIP room while nurses came to me. The news was good. And bad. I did have cancer, but it was in its earliest stages. When the doctor told me, his face was full of pity. I, on the other hand, burst into tears, my body shaking uncontrollably. Everyone assumed I was terrified. Only I knew they were tears of joy. I finally had a chance to live. I checked into the hospital that same day to begin treatment. I was confident I could beat it. This time, I had money, the best doctors, and the best medicine. Chemotherapy was still hell, but because it was early-stage, the drugs were less aggressive. They were imported, a world away from the generic drugs with their brutal side effects I’d endured last time. Other than losing my hair and some weight, I felt surprisingly good. I had enough energy for a walk every day. And thanks to the medication, I never once felt the searing, unbearable pain of advanced pancreatic cancer. After a month of treatment, my doctor gave me even more hope. He said that after two more rounds of chemo, there was a high probability I could go home. It was a tiny spark that ignited a fire in my soul. In my last life, my only dream was to be cured, to live. But just as I was about to pay for my third round of treatment, the hospital informed me that my supplementary card had been declined. The account was frozen. When the nurse told me, I remained calm. As long as we were still married, Lucas was legally obligated to pay for my medical care. I asked the nurse for a day pass and took a cab to his office. The receptionist stopped me at the door. “I’m sorry, miss, but you need an appointment to see Mr. Hayes.” I gave her a small smile and pulled my marriage certificate out of my purse. “Does this count as an appointment?” She took one look at it and shot to her feet. “My apologies, Mrs. Hayes. I didn’t recognize you.” I just nodded and followed her to the elevator. As we passed through the open-plan office, I could feel eyes on me. I knew I looked a sight: bald, with a thick down jacket thrown over my hospital gown. But I felt no shame. In my last life, after the divorce, I had come here to beg him for money. I never even made it past the front door. Back then, all I had was a divorce certificate. This time, I had proof of marriage.

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“Mom, why does Dad have two phones?” My son, Max, asked me in a small voice, clutching a piece of candy. “What two phones, sweetie?” “Just… the one in his briefcase. It’s not the one he usually uses. Last time he answered it, he called that person his wife.” Max blinked his large eyes at me. “But, Mom, you’re his wife.” My hand froze mid-air. The smile was still plastered on my face, but the blood had already turned to ice. “Honey, why don’t you go watch cartoons for a bit?” I stroked his hair, keeping my voice steady. Only one thought burned in my mind: I need to see for myself what’s inside that phone. 1. Marcus came home very late that night. The door clicked shut at eleven p.m. I lay in bed without moving, listening to his routine. First, the shower, then about twenty minutes in his home office, which he always claimed was to “decompress.” Finally, he came into the bedroom. He moved silently, careful not to wake me. I kept my eyes closed, my breathing even and slow. He settled into his side of the bed. His phone—the black-cased one I recognized—was placed on the nightstand. But Max said there was another one. I waited. One minute, two minutes, five. His breathing deepened and evened out. I opened my eyes, rolled over slowly, and slipped out of bed. Before leaving the room, I glanced back at him. He was fast asleep. I walked to the living room. His leather briefcase was by the sofa. I opened it, sifting through the contents. Folders, a charging brick, a packet of tissues. And then— A second phone. Silver, sleek, completely unlike his primary device. My hands were shaking slightly. I pressed the power button. No password. I tapped the messaging app. The first thing I saw was the pinned chat at the top. The contact name was simply two words: My Wife. The profile picture was of a woman. Long hair, a side profile. I couldn’t make out her face. I clicked on the chat. The most recent message was from 5:43 p.m. that afternoon. From him: “My Wife, I have to work late tonight. Can’t make dinner. Miss you.” Her reply: “Okay, hurry home then. I made soup.” His response: “Good girl. Wait up for me.” I stared at those last three words for a long time. Good girl. Wait up for me. He had never once said those words to me. Not in our ten years together. I scrolled up. Yesterday. “My Wife, taking you to the movies this weekend.” “Yay! I want to see that new rom-com.” “Anything you want.” The day before. “My Wife, long day? Are you tired?” “Not too bad. Just missing you.” “Missing you too, honey. Video chat tonight?” “Definitely.” I kept scrolling, one message after another. Every single one began with “My Wife.” Every single one was laced with “Missing you,” “I love you,” “I can’t wait to see you.” Every single one was a sentence I hadn’t heard in a decade. I had been married to him for ten years. I had borne his child. I had given up my career. I spent my days revolving around the kitchen and the school pick-up line. He didn’t call me My Wife. In his contacts, I was listed by my full name. Audrey Sullivan. Two words. Cold and functional. And this other woman— He called her his Wife. I scrolled back to the earliest message. Two years ago. A full two years. I kept going. Transfer records. $800, $600, $1,200, $800. Memos: “Treat yourself to something nice,” “Wife is working so hard,” “For clothes.” I counted. This year alone, he had transferred over $30,000 to her. Thirty thousand. My monthly household allowance was $1,500. I still hesitated to buy a $40 t-shirt. Last month, I asked him for a new coat. My old parka was four years old. He said, “Can’t you still wear the old one? We need to be sensible with money.” Sensible. He told me to be sensible. He gave this woman thirty thousand dollars a year. I slipped the phone back into his briefcase. I walked to the balcony and stood there for a long time. It was cold outside, and the wind was sharp. I didn’t cry. I just stood, staring at the lights of the city. A million lights. Which one was mine? Was this house, this home I had spent ten years maintaining, even mine? No. It never was. I was just a housekeeper. A free, stay-at-home, child-rearing, unpaid nanny. At one a.m., I returned to the bedroom. I lay down. Closed my eyes. Marcus’s breathing was close, even, and steady. I stared at the ceiling, counting the seconds. The sun came up. I hadn’t slept. But I knew this much— I couldn’t say a word. Not yet. I needed more. I needed to know exactly how much this man had taken from me. 2. The next morning, Marcus was up early. I pretended to wake up, rubbing my eyes. “Up so early today?” “Yeah, something came up at the office.” He dressed quickly and walked into the living room. I heard the sound of him picking up his briefcase. “Want some breakfast?” I called out. “Can’t. Too rushed. I’ll grab something on the road.” The front door opened, then closed. I didn’t move from the bed. Max was still asleep. At seven a.m., the only sounds were the birds outside the window. I got up, showered, and made Max’s breakfast. Everything was routine. At eight, I drove Max to preschool. At nine, I was back home. I turned on the computer. I was going to find out who this woman was. I had set up Marcus’s email account, so I knew the password. I logged into his work email. I checked “Sent Mail.” I found it. A hotel invoice. The Hilton, King Suite, two nights. The date was last month. Last month, he told me he was on a three-day business trip. I kept searching. Then, flight information. Two tickets. Same flight, same day, same destination: Laguna Beach. The name on the second ticket: Jenny Lin. Jenny Lin. I ran the name through my mind. Never heard of her. I opened a new tab and searched the company’s internal employee directory. Found her. Jenny Lin, Marketing Department, hired two years ago. The photo showed a young woman. Late twenties, long hair, perfectly made-up, eyes crinkling in a bright smile. She was stunning. Younger than me. Prettier than me. I stared at the photo for a long time. This was his “Wife.” His colleague. His subordinate. His— I took a deep breath. I shut down the computer. I didn’t call him to confront him. I didn’t rush to his office to make a scene. I didn’t even cry. I just sat on the sofa, staring out the window. Ten years. I had married him ten years ago. I quit my job for him, gave up my career, transitioning from a professional earning $60,000 a year to a full-time homemaker. He had said, “You stay home with the kids, I’ll earn the money. Clear division of labor.” I believed him. He had said, “Once Max’s older, you can go back to work.” I believed him. He had said, “I’ll provide for you. Don’t worry.” I believed him. And the result? He was providing for another woman. Missing you, My Wife, Wait up for me. Not one of those words was ever meant for me. I leaned back on the sofa, tracing the last two years. When did he change? It must have been two years ago. The business trips increased. The late nights became routine. The time spent at home decreased. I thought he was busy with work. Once, I asked him, “Why are you working so much overtime lately?” He had been impatient. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s complicated.” I wouldn’t understand. He was right, I didn’t understand. All I understood was doing laundry, cooking, raising our child, and catering to his mother. I understood how to keep everything running perfectly so he had a hot dinner, clean clothes, someone to pick up our son, and someone to fulfill his filial duties. What I didn’t understand was— His second phone housed a second life. At three p.m., I left to pick up Max. On the way, I asked him, “Max, how many times has Daddy brought you to see that lady?” Max thought about it. “Twice, maybe… or three times? One time we went to the amusement park, and she was there too. She bought me an action figure.” My heart clenched. “What did the lady look like?” “She had long hair. She was pretty. She said I looked like Daddy.” She said I looked like Daddy. She had seen my son. She knew I existed. She knew he had a wife and a child, and she stayed with him anyway. “Mom, what’s wrong?” Max tugged at my sleeve. I looked down and smiled at him. “Nothing, sweetie. Mom was just thinking.” Back home, I put on a movie for Max. I went into the bedroom and closed the door. I needed to clear my thoughts. First, Marcus and Jenny had been together for at least two years. Second, he spent significantly more money on her than on me. Third, he had introduced my son to her. Fourth, it was likely an open secret at the company. I couldn’t make a scene. A scene wouldn’t help. I needed to be strategic. I needed to figure out my next move. That evening, Marcus returned home.

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Five years ago, Julian Chen asked me if I wanted to go with him, and I did. I’ve always been clear-headed about the fact that there was no love between us. He needed a wife, and I needed money. I played the role of a wife diligently, squandering his money recklessly, asking if it pained him. He was wealthy enough to just smile and say: ask him for more if it wasn’t enough. Five years into our marriage, Julian Chen died. Great. No one to nag me about smoking and drinking anymore. I could take the money he left me and freely find young guys to enjoy life. Three days after Julian died, I received a letter from five years ago. The first sentence of the letter read: [To my wife.] 1 As soon as Julian died, I partied in the club for three days straight. Expensive bottles of wine worth tens or hundreds of thousands were opened on a whim, and male models lined up for me to choose. When I was tired of playing and went home, Julian’s lawyer handed me a letter. “This is the letter Mr. Chen left for you. According to the will, you are the sole heir to all his property.” My eyes widened in surprise. Oh my god. Was Julian crazy? I had only been married to him for five years, didn’t even have a child, and he gave me all his money. “Are you sure you read it right?” The lawyer nodded: “President Chen drafted the will himself, there can be no mistake.” Then Julian must have lost his mind. I couldn’t suppress the corners of my mouth, overwhelmed by immense joy, momentarily forgetting the letter he left me. Regarding Julian leaving all his money to me, his relatives were the most dissatisfied. When Julian died, they lay by the hospital bed crying their hearts out. Didn’t expect that after all that effort, they didn’t get a penny in the end. Julian’s parents died when he was young, and I was the only heir. The relatives came to make a scene, looking ferocious, trying to force me to split the money equally. Anyway, I used to mix in society, what kind of people haven’t I seen? Could they be more rascally than me? I was Julian’s wife for five years, this money is what I deserve. Trying to gouge money out of my hands is simply wishful thinking. I crossed my arms, leaned against the door, and watched them bark like dogs with a mocking smile. “Want money? Sure. Julian and I happened to have no children. Whoever kneels and calls me mom, I’ll give the child’s share to you.” A group of people whose ages added up to hundreds of years. Every one of them an elder. They were red-faced with anger, pointing at my nose and cursing. “You cheap slut from the gutter! Julian just died and you’re taking his money to find men, you’ll get karma!” I smiled indifferently: “Uncle, do you understand ‘seize the day’?” The dead are gone, shouldn’t the living live well? Besides, Julian and I had no feelings for each other. I married him just for money. He died and I got so much money for nothing, I’d wake up laughing even in my sleep. In life, the most important thing is money, everything else is bullshit. 2 After cursing away the pestering relatives, the 6’2″ male model I just added two days ago called me. “Sister, when are you coming to see me? I miss you so much I can’t sleep.” This coquettish tone made my heart flutter. “I have something to do these days, not coming for now.” Transferred a 9999 red packet to him right away, coaxing him with a little money. Hanging up the phone, I sat on the leather sofa drinking red wine, thinking about how to spend this money. So many zeros, even trypophobia would be cured. This is the life I fantasized about before. Money, time, and freedom, no need to live that dark life anymore, eat what I want, buy what I want, with no one controlling me. Aside from other things, I’m quite grateful to Julian. Back then, he met me at a banquet where I sneaked in hoping to hook a sugar daddy, and asked if I wanted to go with him. I asked him why. He smiled and said he needed a wife. Coincidentally, I needed money. Each took what they needed, best of both worlds. Suddenly remembered the letter he left me, didn’t know where I threw it. What could he say? A standard gentle, considerate gentleman without any sharpness, the letter would probably be full of literary stuff. I didn’t care much, even annoyed that he wanted to preach to me in a letter after death. The red wine wasn’t strong enough, and I’ve always been unhappy without alcohol. Got up and went downstairs to find the ice wine I froze. Opening the refrigerator, I saw a sticky note on the fridge wall. [Drink less ice wine, drink less alcohol.] I froze. Remembered, this was written by Julian. He didn’t like me smoking and drinking, said it was bad for health, and accompanied me to quit several times. I always couldn’t persist, telling him recklessly: “Habits formed long ago, can’t change.” Struggling in the murky society, suffered too much, alcohol and nicotine could numb the pain, naturally creating dependency. Even after marrying Julian and becoming a rich wife, I couldn’t change, not elegant enough, not decent enough, not gentle enough. Julian wouldn’t scold me, no contempt in his eyes, gentle as a quilt sunned under the sun. “Good habits can also be formed, I’ll accompany you.” He didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, had no bad habits, interests were gardening, calligraphy, reading, mild and calm, seemed never to get angry. To me, it was boring to the extreme. I like flashy excitement, like all new things, high-profile enough to let everyone know I have money, a life attitude diametrically opposite to Julian. I dressed exaggeratedly, after having money I liked to wear valuable things on me, regardless of whether it looked good or suitable. Some mocked me as a nouveau riche who hadn’t seen the world. I didn’t care, asked Julian if I embarrassed him. He just smiled gently and said: “You are very beautiful.” Just like that, we lived peacefully under one roof for five whole years. 3 Seeing the words on the sticky note, I tutted irritably and slammed the refrigerator door. Trying to control me even after death, so annoying. Lost the mood to drink, I turned and went back upstairs. The room was quiet. The book he used to read every night was still on the bedside table. A thick and heavy book. I said it could be used to press instant noodles, he smiled and said let me try after he finished reading. The letter I didn’t know where I put was pressing on that book. I opened the letter, inside were two thin sheets of paper. Powerful and beautiful handwriting, his handwriting. I’m uneducated, came out to society before finishing high school. To me, writing letters is old-fashioned and outdated, very rustic. But his letter had a faint fragrance, making me less resistant. The lawyer said this letter was written five years ago. Julian instructed him to give it to me when he died. That is to say, he knew he was going to die long ago. Julian prepared this letter right after we got married. What would the letter say? Saying marrying me was just to make do, or asking me to divorce him after he died, not entering his family genealogy in the future, a woman like me would tarnish his reputation. If he was really afraid I would tarnish him, why marry me in the first place? Just thinking about it made me angry. I sneered mockingly, wanting to see what bullshit this dead man wanted to explain. The first sentence of the letter: [To my wife.] 4 When I was young, my family favored boys over girls. My parents’ incompetence created my pain. To support the little prince at home, I was kicked out of the house at fourteen to work illegally. From a young age, I realized no one loved me. To get my parents’ approval, I sent all the money I earned home, leaving only enough for food and clothing. Returning home for the New Year, parents were unusually enthusiastic and gentle. I was secretly happy, as happy as a child getting a desired toy. New Year’s Eve, after dinner, they told me not to go out to work this year, found me a good family, giving a betrothal gift of 100,000. That man was twenty years older than me, had two dead wives, and was disabled. No parents would push their child into a fire pit. So I packed my things in the middle of the night, admitted the fact that my parents didn’t love me, took my few luggage, stole money from home and ran away. I did many jobs, decent and indecent. As long as I could earn money to live, it didn’t matter what I did. At twenty, I met a man. He was considerate, bought me flowers, cakes, and dresses, took me for rides by the river on his electric scooter. The river wind was wet and cold, but my heart was warm. A man working on construction sites also had a warm and gentle heart. He didn’t disdain my background, felt sorry for my experiences. He was different from everyone else. I fell into his love lies unable to extricate myself. Until he gambled and drank, beat me black and blue, then robbed my money and ran away. Only then did I clearly realize that no one in this world would love me. I was abandoned garbage, a fly. Love meant nothing to me. I didn’t want love anymore, I wanted lots and lots of money. I was kept as a mistress, worked as a bar hostess, chat streamer, did everything except being a homewrecker and breaking the law. Saved quite a bit of money those years. Later met a kid, couldn’t afford school begging on the street. I softened and gave him a hundred bucks. Then that night I was targeted by his accomplices, home invasion robbery, almost died. I asked him why. The kid said others gave one or five, only I gave a hundred, must be rich. When the cold knife was against my neck, I swore, as long as I could live, I would be a bad woman, mean, vicious, selfish, low, cold.

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I disguised myself as a man and successfully seduced a wealthy heiress from New York’s elite circle. She spread rumors about how “big” I was down there, trying to make her childhood sweetheart jealous. But the sweetheart remained indifferent, so angry that the heiress blurted out that she was pregnant, and the baby was mine. Only then did the sweetheart panic. And I panicked too. 1 “Victory.” I lowered my voice naturally as the wisps of smoke from my fingertips curled before the screen displaying the victory message. “Thank you, Jim. You’re really different from other game companions.” The female voice coming through the headphones was gentle and shy: “You never try to please me deliberately, but instead often mock my terrible gameplay…” “Just stating facts.” I glanced at the billing time, ash falling onto my faded boxer shorts: “Another round?” “Jim, actually, I like you—” She paused in a misleading spot: “Your straightforward and generous personality.” She paused again, “By the way, speaking of generous…” These little flirting tricks were like teaching a fish how to swim in front of me. I simply put the cigarette in my mouth, tucked the phone in my pocket, and got up to boil water for instant noodles. Seeing I didn’t speak, the other side obviously panicked: “Are, are you angry? Those are actually just some internet memes, I was just learning to play with them.” I put out the cigarette butt, cherishing words like gold, “No.” Who told internet male gods to be like this? Handsome profile pic, good skills, and most importantly, few words. High and cold enough to freeze people to death. The more airs you put on, the better the business. But unlike other male game companions, my profile pic wasn’t stolen from the internet. It was my selfie. My gaze jumped over the cramped rental room to the broken mirror pasted on the door. Short black hair, slightly upturned phoenix eyes, ink-black pupil color, straight nose bridge. As a girl from a small town, I was born with a good face. “Jim, I’ve been thinking about something for a long time…” The female voice on the other end took a deep breath, as if making up her mind: “Let’s meet, offline.” I raised my eyebrows slightly, about to refuse, when I heard her continue: “Meet once, I’ll give you $150,000.” “Pretend to be my boyfriend, and I’ll give you another $1.5 million.” 2 A New York night in late March, a paper-drunk gold-迷 night in late March. I stood outside a luxury store on Fifth Avenue, looking at the “young man” reflected in the glass— Black hoodie on top, jeans and sneakers below. This shabby outfit didn’t look like an “internet male god” at all. Fortunately, the face was my core equipment. The high-quality modeling made it so that even if I wore split-crotch pants, no one would notice my crotch was open. Plus good genes, as a girl my net height was already 5’9″ (175cm), adding 2 inches of internal lifts and 1 inch of external lifts. Making up a pleasing 6 feet (183cm) was more than enough. Even so, while I looked steady as a male model on the surface, my heart was pounding. It was easy to fake a male voice online, but in reality… could I really fool them? The other party was a wealthy heiress, knowledgeable and experienced. What if she saw through me at a glance and sued me for fraud? That $150,000, and the promised $1.5 million… Whatever, let’s gamble first. At this moment, I was awkwardly adjusting the eggplant tied to my waist for the third time. “Jim Gu?” A female voice, softer and sweeter than in the headphones, suddenly sounded from behind me. My body stiffened, and my right hand moved away from the eggplant in my crotch as if nothing happened. Then I looked back with feigned coldness. But I saw a woman behind me with long ink-black hair loosely tied up, a few strands of stray hair casually falling by her slender neck. And my gaze quickly swept over her Chanel dress, Hermes belt, Van Cleef & Arpels clover bracelet, and Roger Vivier square buckle heels. My brain went blank, only the “cha-ching” sound of a cash register constantly starting up. Chloe Lu was also stunned, her gaze lingering on me: “You in person… seem a bit different from the photo.” My heart almost stopped. Then a blush appeared on her fair cheeks: “Even more handsome than the photo.” …Miss Heiress, please stop reciting cheesy internet flirting lines, okay? I pursed my lips and lowered my eyes: “Thanks.” “Cough, I booked a table at Speak Low, my friends are waiting there.” Chloe reached out to me, the pearlescent polish on her manicured nails shining under the neon lights, “Go together?” I noticed the stiffness of her movement, hesitated for a moment, and still didn’t hold her hand: “Okay.” Facing my detachment, Chloe relaxed a bit instead, chuckling lightly: “You’re just as aloof as online.” I didn’t speak, just slowed down my pace all the way, silently matching the rhythm of her high heels. So this counts as… passing the test? But this was only the first level. Not long after arriving at the bar, just the way of entering was a trick I had never seen before. Walking inside, the lights were slightly dim, jazz music flowed softly, and the sound of ice cubes colliding was pleasant. “Chloe!” Several fashionably dressed young people sat in the central booth. Seeing Chloe enter, they waved immediately. “Damn, is this the internet boyfriend you talked about?” One of the girls with short hair looked me up and down, her eyes lighting up again and again. “This is too good-looking! Pretty enough to be a girl! Chloe, you good girl hid a ‘golden house beauty’ quite deep!” —Pretty enough to be a girl. That unintentional remark tightened my heart, unconsciously pressing my tongue against the roof of my mouth to keep my expression calm. Facing her friend’s winking, Chloe became more embarrassed, “Linsey, stop it.” She then turned around and introduced me softly, “Jim, this is Linsey Lin, my good friend, that’s Ryan, Linsey’s brother, that is…” I silently memorized the names, occasionally nodding in greeting. At the same time, I noticed “Ryan” with trendy red hair, who had been staring at me since I entered—with a suspicious gaze. “Heard you’re still in school.” He asked, “Which university?” “Rivertown University.” I made up a school name from my hometown. “Never heard of it.” Ryan said immediately, “Third-tier or community college?” I didn’t answer, nor did I appear angry. Instead, Chloe beside me bit her lip slightly. Linsey slapped her brother, “Alright, Bro! Not everyone has to go to Columbia like you.” Fortunately, the waiter brought a round of drinks, slightly diluting the awkwardness in the atmosphere. Chloe considerately handed me a glass, while she ordered a glass of warm milk herself: “Jim, this is their signature, you can try it.” I took the glass and took a sip. Spicier than beer, not as sweet as iced tea. I really can’t get used to high-end stuff. “So, how did you two meet?” Linsey leaned forward with a bad smile, looking gossipy. “Cough… I ordered Jim’s game companion service.” Chloe smiled, her fingers resting on my wrist, “Found his skills particularly good, and he’s a nice person, so we gradually got familiar.” The slightly cool temperature of her fingertips transmitted through my skin; obviously, she was also nervous about lying. “Game companion?” Ryan sneered, his fingertips pressing against the rim of the glass, making a slight scraping sound, “Chloe, when did you start playing with this kind of stuff?” “Is there a problem?” Chloe’s tone remained gentle, but I heard a trace of uncomfortable tension. Ryan looked away and shrugged: “Nothing, I just feel you’ve changed, ever since last time Julian Shen…” Chloe’s expression froze instantly, like being frozen: “I don’t want to talk about this.” “…Sorry.” Ryan raised both hands, then glanced at me, “I’m just worried you’ll be cheated by a scumbag.” Ice cubes melted slowly in the amber liquid. My gaze moved from the ice in the glass to Ryan’s face. At an angle Chloe couldn’t see, I smiled provocatively at him. Ryan was stunned, then almost flipped the table, “What are you laughing at!?” Linsey got impatient, “Bro, why are you always startled tonight? If you hadn’t sworn you weren’t interested in Chloe, I would have thought you were jealous.” “You didn’t see!” Ryan stood up, pointing his right hand at me, “He’s a green tea boy!” Chloe looked at me subconsciously. And I had already returned to calm, tilting my head slightly, eyes full of innocent confusion, “What?” “Fuck! He’s acting!” Ryan gritted his teeth in anger, “Chloe, you can’t be with this kind of person…” “Enough!” Chloe raised her voice for the first time: “This is my choice, Ryan, I hope you can respect it.” Ryan opened his mouth but was speechless. Finally, he sat back without a word, grabbed his glass, and downed a large gulp. “Oh my, Bro, drink less, your alcohol tolerance isn’t good…” Linsey tutted beside him. At this moment, I felt the eggplant at my waist loosen a bit, and busily adjusted my sitting posture while sipping wine, trying to prevent a disaster. But the eggplant slid down uncontrollably, the cloth strip completely loose. Damn it, knew I shouldn’t have been greedy for small bargains and bought a professional fake one instead. Seeming to notice my small action of frowning, Linsey asked with concern, “Are you okay? Uncomfortable? Newbies might not be used to the alcohol here.” “I’m fine.” I answered briefly, then turned to Chloe, “Where is the restroom?” “I’ll take you.” Chloe wanted to get up. “No need, just point the direction.” I stopped her immediately to prevent her from seeing more awkward arcs in awkward places. “Over there! Turn right out the door, at the end.” Linsey pointed the direction actively. I nodded in thanks, stood up as naturally as possible, one hand pressing inconspicuously on my waist, and headed straight for the restroom. Quick, quick, quick. And another problem came, should I go to the women’s or men’s room? I hesitated for half a second, looking at my appearance in men’s clothing in the mirror, and finally pushed open the door to the men’s room. No one. I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the cloth strip tying the eggplant completely loose, hurriedly pulled my belt with both hands, rushing towards the stall. However, just as I pushed open the stall door, the main door of the men’s room was pushed open again, making a dull sound. Ryan strode in, wrapped in a slight smell of alcohol, “Hey.” My back paused, but only for a moment, stepping straight into the stall to lock the door. Ryan grabbed my arm from behind: “Hey! I’m talking to you, what are you pretending to be deaf for!?” “What is it?” I stiffened, the other hand clutching my waistband. Ryan sneered, “Chloe’s family is very rich, richer than your impoverished poor imagination can imagine, do you understand?” “…Understood, can you let go of me now?” My voice was tense. Dying, dying, the completely freed eggplant started sliding down my thigh, if it falls out of the pant leg, it’s over. “You don’t understand, Chloe has never been in a relationship, very innocent, she recently experienced some… things, that’s why she’s acting out.” Ryan’s tone suddenly softened a bit, “So if you approached her just for money, you’d better stop now.” “This is between me and her.” I said irritably, trying hard to break free from his shackles, “Now I need to use the restroom, can you not block the door like a pervert?” Hearing this, Ryan was like a fire sprayed with alcohol, grabbing my wrist again, nails digging into my flesh. “Fuck! You’re just a somewhat good-looking hillbilly, what are you arrogant about!” Ryan exerted force suddenly, pulling me to face him, distance momentarily close enough to feel each other’s breath, “You…” In this instant, the eggplant on my thigh finally couldn’t bear the burden, sliding towards the pant leg with the sound of fabric friction. Ryan’s gaze moved down, seeing that abnormal protrusion, his expression went blank, “Your…” Anxious, I simply pulled the eggplant out of my pant leg and smashed it on his head: “Die gay, get lost!” 3 When I washed my hands and returned to the booth, Chloe was turning sideways chatting with Linsey. But she was obviously absent-minded, her amber eyes drifting towards the bar entrance from time to time, as if waiting for someone. —Waiting for that Julian Shen, I guess. Seeing me return, Chloe was stunned for a moment, seeming to almost forget me, her “boyfriend.” She hurriedly withdrew her gaze, squeezing out a slightly stiff smile: “Jim, you’re back, are you okay?” I shook my head. Linsey also looked behind me, “Where’s my brother? He didn’t make things difficult for you, did he? Just now after you went to the restroom he insisted on going, and I couldn’t really tie him to the seat not letting him go…” I still shook my head. Linsey sighed again, “Sigh, my brother isn’t bad at heart, always treating Chloe as a biological sister, just too protective.” “Jim, did Ryan say anything to you?” Chloe asked, eyes flickering. “Not much.” I sat back beside her, “Just some conversation between guys.” Before Chloe’s face looked more worried, I continued lightly: “But he drank too much, when I came out he was still puking in the toilet, hope he’s okay.” —Hope he’s okay after being knocked out by my eggplant and having a baby-like sleep. Hearing me say this, Chloe and Linsey looked at each other, both appearing surprised. Linsey rubbed her forehead, obviously feeling embarrassed for her brother, “What did I say earlier, trying to be brave with that terrible alcohol tolerance, hey, I’ll go check on him in the restroom, don’t want him to drown in the toilet, then I’ll be an only child.” After saying that, she grabbed another male friend as a helper, not forgetting to wink at Chloe: “The night is still long, you young couple chat slowly~” Caused to blush by her hint, Chloe didn’t know what to say, so she handed me another drink. Blue, very beautiful. Chloe then picked up her glass of milk, gently touching mine: “Jim, thank you for coming to see me.” I sipped that beautiful blue, ice-cold and sweet, much better than the previous one. “No need to thank.” I couldn’t help taking another sip before continuing, “I’m also just doing it for money.” Seeming not expecting me to be so direct, the blush on Chloe’s face faded a little, corner of her mouth stagnating. But immediately after, her gaze suddenly crossed my shoulder, fixed in the distance. Chloe’s expression changed instantly, tense like a freshly dried sculpture. I looked back, seeing a man and a woman walking in from the main entrance, like a cold wind blowing into the warm bar. The boy wore a simple but textured white shirt, looking outstandingly clean, his temperament even having a kind of aloofness incompatible with this luxurious environment, brows furrowed tightly, looking like he was forced to come. And the girl beside him with long wavy hair dyed milk tea color, wearing an off-shoulder pink dress, looked charming and cute. At this moment looking around curiously, eyes unable to hide amazement. “Eh, isn’t that Julian Shen whom the Lu family sponsored since childhood? The girl beside him is…” Someone whispered, gossiping eyes glancing at Chloe. And Chloe just lowered her head to adjust her already very neat skirt. Sitting for a few more seconds, she stood up, movements still appearing somewhat hasty, “Julian, over here.” Julian Shen’s gaze fell over, sweeping over everyone in the booth, thin lips pursed tight, walking over slowly. Looking exactly like reluctantly forced into prostitution. Seeing this, I raised my eyebrows slightly, sizing him up from a distance. Not as handsome as me, not as tall as me after lifts, just temperament more… aloof than me. When the two approached, I noticed that Julian Shen was also carrying a small bag. “…Happy birthday.” He handed out the gift. Chloe’s eyes brightened instantly, taking the small bag with both hands: “Thank you! Julian, I like it very much!” Then, as if realizing her overreaction, Chloe’s cheeks blushed slightly, coughing lightly. She turned to me as if making up for it, “Jim, this is Julian Shen, Julian, this is Jim Gu, my… boyfriend.” The word “boyfriend” floated lightly from her mouth, but carried a subtle weight. Julian briefly looked at me for a few seconds, then looked away. Showing no emotion change— Until a small fist hit his arm next to him. “Senior Shen, you are too much!” Now not only Julian was stunned, Chloe’s smile also froze. “How could you forget to tell me today is Miss Lu’s birthday, causing me to prepare nothing, coming with you empty-handed! How rude this is!” The girl hit Julian a few more times, then bowed to Chloe repeatedly, “Sorry sorry! Hello Miss Lu, my name is Yola You, I really didn’t know today is your birthday, I will definitely make up the gift next time…” That timid appearance, as if she would cry from being scolded by Chloe in the next second. “No need to apologize, not something important anyway.” Julian frowned unhappily, stopping Yola, “She won’t mind.” He didn’t care about the place Yola hit either, tone carrying some helplessness and doting, as if comforting an ignorant child. And I noticed Chloe’s fingers pinching the gift bag tightened, knuckles slightly pale. That sentence “She won’t mind these”, was both an excuse for Yola and a definition for Chloe. —He made the decision for Chloe, yet didn’t even look at her. Now I probably understand why Chloe hired me to pretend to be her boyfriend. I stood up: “You’re right.” Then my right hand gently rested on Chloe’s shoulder. “Our Chloe indeed won’t mind those unimportant people.” Chloe’s shoulder trembled slightly, those beautiful amber eyes looking up at me in surprise. I pursed a shallow smile at her, taking the opportunity to put my arm around her and sit back down. Taking money to do work, value for money. In our line of work, nothing else matters, protecting the master comes first. True in games, even more so in reality. Julian finally cast his gaze on me, brows furrowed tighter, while Yola widened her eyes, a flash of amazement in her eyes looking at me. This was also the first time Chloe saw me smile, she was stunned for a moment, then remembered to say, “Julian, and this… Miss You, you sit too, just friends gathering casually tonight, no need to be restrained.” Julian pursed his lips straight, didn’t respond to Chloe, just pulled out chairs for Yola and himself. But his straight back and tense jawline exposed his discomfort. The waiter came over to ask for orders timely, Yola swept over the expensive prices on the drink menu, timidly said: “Um, I don’t quite understand these…” “She wants a glass of orange juice.” Julian said simply, expression neither humble nor arrogant, “I just want lemon water.” This plain choice actually gave me some sense of intimacy. I couldn’t help looking at Julian more, while he completely ignored me. “Julian, you can order something else, I’m paying tonight…” Chloe couldn’t help speaking. Her voice was very soft, carrying a trace of habitual fawning and humbleness. “Thanks, no need, I didn’t want to come here originally, so no need to spend.” Julian interrupted indifferently, this detachment, even wrapped in politeness, was still sharp. Chloe’s shoulders trembled slightly, seeming finally unable to bear it, she covered her mouth and stood up abruptly, “Sorry… I’m going to the restroom.” “I’ll go with you!” Yola immediately followed enthusiastically. For a moment, this corner of the booth only had me and Julian left. Others seemed to smell the gunpowder of the Shura field (intense conflict), pretending to chat devotedly to avoid being involved. And since the heiress wasn’t there, I didn’t need to put on airs anymore, leaning back relaxed, tasting the small wine, just short of a cigarette. Julian’s peripheral vision therefore stayed on me for a moment, with some scrutinizing meaning. I simply turned my face, letting him see clearly, “Good looking?” Caught off guard meeting my full face and gaze, Julian stiffened, like a rabbit blinded by high beams in the dark night. “…” “You don’t speak, I’ll take it as your default.” Defaulting he didn’t recognize I was actually a girl. “…How long have you been dating?” Julian asked suddenly. Cup rim against lips, I lifted my eyelids, answering quickly: “What does it have to do with you?” Julian’s brows were cold as frost, finally a ripple in his eyes: “Your etiquette and upbringing are really as cheap as your clothes.” I slowly drank the wine in one go, alcohol leaving a burning touch in my throat. “Male students sponsored by rich people are indeed different.” I finally laughed casually, “Even cursing is gentle.” Julian’s gaze finally turned completely to me, like a blade across glass: “The male game companion Chloe ordered frequently a while ago, is you right.” “Guess.” My tone calm with provocation, “Any opinion?” “I don’t.” Julian stared at me, “But the Lu family will. The Lu family is not an ordinary family, how far do you think you, a companion pleasing women by playing games, can go?” The light cast a shadow on his slightly tightened jawline, outlining a sharp boundary. I hooked a mockery: “This question should be asked to yourself.” A trace of annoyance flashed in Julian’s eyes: “Don’t change the subject, do you think Chloe really likes you?” His voice was cold, “She is just using you to make me jealous.” “Oh, so you know very well.” I raised my eyebrows, “Since you know, why did you bring that junior sister? Want to prove you don’t care that much?” Julian’s expression froze slightly, then returned to calm: “Yola and I are just in the same lab, today she asked me to bring her to see…” “Yeah yeah yeah.” I was too lazy to listen. Thinking I didn’t believe, Julian’s displeasure increased: “Listen, I don’t care who you are, nor what deal is between you and Chloe, but I advise you to stop early.” “Or else?” “Or else you will regret it.” Julian said coldly, “The Lu family is not something people like you can climb.” I chuckled lightly: “What about you? Aren’t you climbing too?” Julian’s expression instantly became cold as ice: “What do you mean?” “Literal meaning.” I looked straight into his eyes, “I guess, you also have feelings for Chloe, but refuse to admit due to self-esteem, now seeing her with someone else, starting to get restless again.” Julian’s face turned iron blue, ten fingers clenched: “What do you know?” “Know more than you imagine.” I looked towards the restroom. “For example, Chloe has been sad enough for you.” Julian was stunned. After a moment, just as he was about to speak again, footsteps came from the direction of the restroom. But saw Linsey holding pale-faced Chloe returning, Yola following behind, looking frightened. And behind the few people, the male friend grabbed by Linsey was carrying a red-haired guy with unsteady steps. So I looked up, exactly meeting Ryan’s eyes dyed with drunkenness but unusually clear. My expression froze slightly. What the hell, that guy I knocked out with an eggplant, why woke up at this time?

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