Category: English

It was midnight. My fiancé’s secretary sent me a provocative photo. [We went for 4 hours today.] I didn’t have time to reply. Because the ghost of my childhood nemesis, who died ten years ago, suddenly appeared in my living room. “Is this your fiancé?” “Tsk… why does he look a little like me?” 1 When I opened the door and saw Caleb, I thought I was still drunk and hallucinating. He was still wearing his varsity jacket from our senior year of high school. His mouth was just as sharp as it used to be. “Wow, look at you. Cosplaying a drowned rat?” I looked down at my phone. The date was correct. I hadn’t time-traveled. Thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me, I was about to look up again when several messages popped up. [Miss Summers, congratulations on getting engaged to your consolation prize.] [But compared to you, Spencer seems to like me more.] [Four hours tonight. Twice.] The attached photo was a post-coital selfie of her and Spencer. Before I could look up, Caleb’s noisy voice rang in my ear again. “Whoa! NSFW! Is that allowed?” “Summer, does your phone have a virus?” “Wait, fiancé? You’re getting married?” “Holy crap! He’s cheating on you right before the engagement? You want a man like that?” “Hold on… this fiancé… why does he look a discount version of me?” “Do I smell a ‘replacement’ trope? Summer, don’t tell me you had a crush on me? Heh…” Caleb. The “Silent Groom” of our high school yearbook—because he looked best when he wasn’t talking. He was the main character of everyone’s high school life. Except for that mouth. Roasting him back was practically muscle memory. “Crush on you? Do I look insane?” My voice dropped, and Caleb froze. I froze too. The next second, screams erupted from the surrounding apartments. “Ahhh!!! A ghost!” “Ahhh!!! Someone can see the ghost!!!” 2 Ten minutes later, I finally calmed down. Leaning against the wall, I fished a cigarette out of my bag. “What is happening? Why can I see you?” Caleb was huddled in the corner. He looked even more shocked than I was. “I’d love to know the answer to that, too.” Click. Click. The lighter sparked but couldn’t ignite the rain-soaked cigarette. He paused, floated over, and tried to grab it. But he forgot—he couldn’t touch anything. His hand went straight through the smoke. Stunned for a second, he leaned in and sniffed me to cover his embarrassment. “Drinking? And smoking?” “Summer, when did you pick up these bad habits?” We went to the same middle and high school. Basically childhood friends. Just because he was three months older, he always loved to lecture me. I was never afraid of him then. I wasn’t afraid now. “It’s been a long time. I forgot.” His eyes went wide. “You forgot? How?” “Whatever. Forget it. It doesn’t matter.” Yeah. It didn’t matter. I tossed the cigarette, walked past him, and took off my soaked trench coat, letting it drop to the floor. He floated right behind me, sticking like glue. “Hey, aren’t you scared seeing me? Don’t you have questions…” His voice cut off abruptly. Because he saw that after taking off the coat, I was unzipping the back of my dress. The zipper was already down to my shoulder blades. He phased through the wall and vanished instantly. A second later, a roar came from the closed study. “Holy sh*t! Your fiancé cheats on you, so you decide to flash me?” “I am a pure, innocent ghost! I never even dated! Don’t try to force yourself on me!” “Besides, I’m dead! I can’t help you with that!” 3 Caleb’s voice made me pause. Right. He was dead. Ten years ago, the day after graduation. Car accident. I went to his funeral. Over the last decade, everything related to him had been burned or buried. No one around me even mentioned his name. Honestly, my brain was a mess. It was so chaotic that even though I forced myself to be calm, I couldn’t tell reality from a dream. I didn’t know if what I was doing even mattered. But in this moment, I suddenly sobered up. I looked at the empty living room. Then down at my dripping wet dress. My throat tightened. “I walked home in the rain. If I don’t take a hot shower and take some meds, I’ll be dead by morning.” The room was silent. So silent that seeing Caleb felt like a hallucination. But just as I held my breath, about to open the study door to check, his muffled voice came through. “Shut up. Don’t say the D-word…” 4 I sank into the bathtub, surrounded by hot water. Listening to the splash of water, I finally felt pulled back to reality. Just today, I had received a package of Caleb’s old belongings. Just an hour ago, I was at his grave. But through the wall, his voice was crystal clear. “Summer, what is the deal with that fiancé?” “I saw that text. That wasn’t the first time you got a photo like that, was it?” “And that guy’s face…” The topic I had been avoiding was forced back into the open. Yes. Spencer’s secretary, Tiffany, wasn’t the first to send photos to provoke me. But so what? I didn’t care. “Six years ago, my mom remarried a nouveau riche guy.” “It’s a business merger. A commercial marriage. You know the drill. He just happens to look like you. Don’t flatter yourself.” Caleb wouldn’t understand. He went quiet. The only sound was hurried footsteps moving from the living room to the bathroom door. Remembering his wall-phasing trick, I frowned. “Caleb, you aren’t trying to peek, are you?” No answer. Just a tall shadow cast against the frosted glass door. Do ghosts have shadows? Suspicious, I put on my robe and opened the door. But it wasn’t Caleb. It was Spencer, who should have been in a hotel with his secretary. He was holding a photo he’d dug out of Caleb’s box of belongings, looking at me with dark eyes. “I get sick, you send meds. I have a date, you deliver condoms in the rain. You’ve been simping for me for six years just because of this face?” “Caleb? Right, that’s the name you call out when you’re drunk.” Spencer’s words made my heart skip a beat. I instinctively looked toward Caleb, who was floating out of the study. But Spencer wasn’t done. He raised an eyebrow and laughed. His tone was casual, dangerous. “Where are you hiding him? Bring him out.”

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Before the wheat was even fully golden, I had the first of Grandma Eliza’s Visits. [Olivia, remember this. A devastating blight is coming this autumn. Planting the wheat will be for nothing. You must sell the green crop as feed now, take the money, and lease a fish farm. It’s the only way to save your income!] I managed to convince Mom and Dad to cut the wheat early, selling the green stalks to a local feed mill, and then flood the fields to start a fish farm. But then came the century-level drought. Every single fish fry baked in the sun. We were left with nothing but scorched earth and a mountain of debt. Desperate and at a total loss, Grandma Eliza’s Visit came again: [Go to the old oak tree behind your childhood home. Your grandfather buried gold bars there for an emergency. The money from them will more than cover the debt!] I rushed to tell Dad. He went and dug, just like she said, but instead of gold, he unearthed an entire footlocker full of cocaine bricks. Undercover agents, who’d been staking out the area, immediately arrested him as a dealer. Given the massive quantity, he was facing life without parole, perhaps even the death penalty. Mom couldn’t handle the shock. She collapsed, unconscious. And once more, Grandma Eliza’s guidance came through: [Dr. Stern at Metro General Hospital is the only one who can save her. If you don’t go now, your mother is in grave danger!] Driven by the frantic need to save Mom, I cornered Dr. Stern at the hospital, practically begging him to operate. He finally agreed. What I didn’t know was that my fiancé, Owen, had been in a severe car accident and needed Dr. Stern’s specialized care immediately. Because I pulled the surgeon away, Owen died waiting on the operating table. And Mom, due to the critical delay, didn’t make it either. She died during surgery. Before her light faded, she looked at me with tears streaming down her face and asked why I had destroyed our family. Owen’s parents were convinced I was responsible for their son’s death. They found me and stabbed me eighteen times in a frenzy of grief and vengeance. I was rushed to the ER, and in my fading consciousness, I saw Grandma Eliza again. But this time, she was grinning, a cruel, mocking smile, as she raised a knife and plunged it straight into my heart. In reality, my heart gave out, and I died on the ambulance gurney. Even as I died, I couldn’t understand why my beloved grandmother’s guidance had led to the utter annihilation of my entire family. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. It was the very morning Grandma Eliza first told me to sell the field. 1 [Olivia, remember this. A devastating blight is coming this autumn. Planting the wheat will be for nothing. You must sell the green crop as feed now, take the money, and lease a fish farm. It’s the only way to save your income…] I jolted awake, drenched in a cold sweat. That familiar, chilling voice in my head. It confirmed it. I wasn’t dead. I was back. I was reborn. But I didn’t breathe a word of it to Mom or Dad. I simply flipped over and pulled the covers tighter, trying to drown out the memory. In the previous life, Grandma Eliza had told me the same thing, urging me to tell Dad to cut the wheat and start a fish farm. Grandma had doted on me more than anyone. I had believed her implicitly and immediately told Dad about the impending plague. Since Dad hurt his hand years ago working construction, our few acres of wheat were our only lifeline. They fed us, and they paid for my college tuition. We couldn’t afford risks. I remembered struggling in the previous life, trying to figure out how to sell Dad on such a mystical claim. But he had chosen to trust me, without question. He cut the wheat, flooded the field, and when neighbors teased him, he stood tall, his chest swelling with pride. “My Olivia, she’s a college girl. She knows things I don’t. How could a father not believe in his daughter?” The reality had been a brutal kick in the gut. That autumn, there was no blight. Not a single locust. Instead, a drought the locals called “a once-in-a-century event” descended upon us. Dad frantically hauled water, trying to keep the ponds full, but the relentless heat was too much. The immature fish baked to death. Dad fell ill, our savings were wiped out, and Mom spent every night weeping silently. Yet, she always squeezed out a smile for me, insisting I wasn’t to blame. My self-recrimination was a living thing. And then, the Visions had returned. [Olivia, go to the old oak tree behind the house. Your Grandpa buried gold bars there for emergencies. Now is the time to dig them up!] Excited, I’d told my parents. Dad, ever trusting, grabbed a shovel and went straight out. He did find a heavy box. But when he opened it, there were no gold bars, only brick after brick of white powder. Before Dad could make sense of it, the police, who had been waiting, grabbed him, mistaking him for a drug runner. The charge was so severe, they didn’t even allow visits. The case detective hinted that due to the quantity of controlled substances, Dad was almost certainly facing the death penalty. Mom, shattered by the news, collapsed. The diagnosis: acute heart failure. I’d collapsed, sobbing, at her bedside, and the Visions came again: [Dr. Stern at Metro General Hospital, only he can save your mother. Hurry, or she won’t wake up!] I drove into the city and knelt before the brilliant surgeon, Dr. Stern, finally convincing him to come back and operate on Mom. But I was oblivious. I had pulled him away from the emergency surgery of my fiancé, Owen Mitchell, who had been in a massive pile-up and had shrapnel piercing his heart. Because of my intervention, Owen missed his window of survival and died. Before I could even process the horror of indirectly killing Owen, Dr. Stern came out to tell me Mom’s surgery had failed. I rushed into the room, barely catching her last breath. The woman who had always looked at me with unconditional love now stared, for the first time in my life, with crushing disappointment and confusion. She asked me why I had destroyed our family. In a daze, clutching Mom’s ashes, I left the funeral home, only to be ambushed by Owen’s parents. Convinced I was a murderess, they stabbed me eighteen times. As the paramedics rushed me to the hospital, I saw Grandma Eliza one final time. I wanted to scream, to demand why she had ruined my life, but before I could speak, she raised the knife and plunged it into my chest. My heart burst, and I died on the ambulance floor. Reliving that horror was enough. This time, I would not listen to my grandmother’s misleading Visions. I rationalized it. A localized drought wouldn’t completely ruin the wheat. If I just left things alone, Dad would, at the very least, still get the harvest money in the fall. But I still felt an uneasy dread. The next morning, I took the money I’d saved for a new laptop and bought industrial-grade pesticide. I spent the day dusting our fields, determined to burn out every last potential insect threat. Dad chuckled, saying I was more farmer than he was. I didn’t let up. I monitored the fields every single day. When harvest time arrived, the wheat stood tall, full, and magnificent. The grain broker who came to inspect it gave us the highest quote. “This is top-shelf quality. Absolutely prime. You have to sell this batch to me!” Dad’s sun-darkened face was split with a grin. “This is wonderful! We can finally buy your mother and daughter some proper clothes.” With the harvest scheduled for the next morning, the suffocating knot in my chest finally began to loosen. I was right. Grandma Eliza’s Vision was wrong. All I had to do was ignore it. That evening, Mom cooked a celebratory dinner, and we went to bed early, excited for the harvest. But just before dawn, I heard an agonizing, disbelieving cry. “How? Where did they come from? The locusts!” My internal alarm shrieked. A terrifying premonition shot through me. I didn’t bother with shoes, bolting outside. The sight made my stomach drop. It was a dark, roiling vortex—a plague of insects so thick it looked like a section of the sky had peeled off and dropped onto our land. The beautiful, perfect wheat, ready for harvest just hours ago, was being shredded to stalks. Dad frantically waved his arms, trying to drive them off, but it was useless. He slipped, falling hard, and could only watch, helpless, as the swarm devoured almost the entire field. The man who had always been my rock, who stood so tall in my memory, stayed collapsed on the ground. I rushed to him, barely hearing his broken whisper. “It’s over… it’s all over. The tuition, the medicine, the food… it’s all gone.” Dad’s words were a knife in my heart. Why? I hadn’t listened to Grandma Eliza. The first time, there was no blight. Why did one appear now? Before I could think, Dad had gotten up and walked out. When he returned, his shoulders were slumped, his posture defeated. I knew. He had gone to borrow money from our neighbors. For a man who had taught me to live with integrity and never owe anyone a thing, how utterly humiliating was that? My heart twisted with agony. That night, Grandma Eliza appeared in my dreams again. She seemed to know the new disaster. She sighed, heavy with pity. [Olivia, go to the old oak tree behind the house. Your Grandpa buried gold bars there for emergencies. Gold prices are high now. Sell it. It will save you!] But I knew better. Last time, following this direction led to Dad being framed for drug trafficking. This time, I absolutely would not allow that to happen. The moment I woke up, I called the police. “Officer, I think someone buried something suspicious, maybe evidence, beneath the old oak tree behind our house. It might be illegal.” The police were silent for a long moment, then informed me they would send a unit out to investigate. I knew I was messing up an existing stakeout, but better this than letting Dad go anywhere near that box. That afternoon, a police SUV pulled up. I braced myself, half-expecting a reward or a commendation, but I was wrong. Several officers got out, one of them carrying a heavy, metal footlocker—the very box that had destroyed my life once before. Why would the police bring the evidence here? But when the officer opened the lid, my breath hitched. This time, there wasn’t white powder inside. There were a dozen genuine gold bars. “Officer, why is there so much gold?” Dad asked, confused, stepping forward to get a closer look. As soon as he approached the box, the officers shoved him to the ground and slapped handcuffs on his wrists. The sudden violence sent me reeling. I rushed forward, only to be held back. “Why are you arresting my father!” I screamed. “Because we’ve identified these gold bars. They are part of the cache stolen during a major bank robbery fifteen years ago!” the officer stated, his voice ringing with authority. “We interviewed witnesses and identified the main culprit as your grandfather. Your father’s reaction just now confirms his involvement in fencing and hiding the evidence!” The officer looked at me, his gaze complex. “You may have just put a stain on your family name, Olivia, but you helped the state recover stolen property and bring a criminal to justice. That’s something to be proud of.” “No! That’s impossible! My father is not a criminal! Dad, tell them it’s a mistake…” But when I turned and saw Dad’s face—the shock of betrayal, the genuine guilt, the utter sorrow—I froze. “Is this… is this true?”

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On the day my sister was finally found, my parents and brother were brimming with joy. But then, they heard my thoughts. [Great, Hailey is finally back. It’s just too bad Dad’s biggest project is about to be snatched away by a rival. Should I warn him now?] Mom looked at my sister with tears in her eyes, ready to take off the family heirloom—an emerald bracelet worth millions—and give it to her. [Sigh. Once that bracelet leaves Mom’s wrist, it’s gone forever. In a minute, Hailey is going to pretend to accidentally drop it just to test her status in Mom’s heart. Such a pity, that emerald has perfect clarity.] My brother, overcome with emotion, was about to pick Hailey up and spin her around. I tilted my head, looking at him. [Carter is pathetic too. His girlfriend is currently sitting on his best friend’s lap. I wonder if he’ll still be this happy tonight when she tells him she’s pregnant and makes him a dad!] The very next second, Dad’s cell phone rang. 1 My gaze remained fixed on my sister, acting as if I didn’t see the frozen expressions on my parents’ and brother’s faces. Dad hesitated for two seconds before answering the phone. A moment later, his expression drastically changed. “What? Okay, I understand.” Putting down the phone, the joy on Dad’s face from Hailey Vance’s return instantly turned grim. Even Mom’s voice trembled as she spoke. “Richard, what’s wrong?” Dad glanced at me, his voice dry. “I just got news about the company’s key project for the first half of the year. Our competitor intercepted it. There’s no room for negotiation.” I shook my head, feigning sympathy. [Dad and Carter barely came home for six months working on that deal. Now it’s all down the drain. Carter is going to get mocked by the rival CEO’s son for ages because of this. How embarrassing!] Instantly, two intense gazes locked onto me. I watched Mom’s hand hover over the bracelet she was preparing to remove, acting nonchalant as I sat to the side. Now things were awkward. Mom didn’t know whether to take it off or leave it on. She just froze there. Hailey, however, noticed Mom’s hesitation. She stepped forward eagerly, practically yanking the jade bracelet off Mom’s wrist, ignoring the flash of pain on Mom’s face. “Mom, are you giving this to me?” Hailey held the bracelet by two fingers, hugging Mom and acting coquettish. “When I was little, you said you’d save all the best things for me. You’re the best, Mom!” Hailey didn’t see the tension in Mom’s eyes. She made a show of putting it on. Then, the accident happened. The bracelet that was just in Hailey’s hand suddenly hit the floor. The emerald, cherished by Mom above all else, shattered into pieces. Mom’s face couldn’t help but twitch violently. “Oh no, Mom!” Hailey pouted, feigning horror. “My hand slipped. You won’t blame me, right Mom?” As she said this, a flash of smugness crossed her face. She was certain their love and guilt for her would outweigh a piece of jewelry. But when she looked up, expecting comfort, she found Mom holding back a scolding and my brother, Carter, looking undisguisedly shocked. “Crap!” Carter’s face suddenly went pale. He grabbed his phone and rushed out, presumably to call his girlfriend. “Mom, Dad, are you mad? Hailey really didn’t mean to.” Seeing their expressions weren’t right, Hailey’s big eyes immediately misted over, and she began a pitiful apology. [Here we go again. She’s going to play the victim card. She’ll talk about how miserable her life was after being kidnapped… Poor Mom and Dad are so soft-hearted, they’ll give her a huge compensation check. Little do they know, she spent all her money on male escorts!] Sure enough, the next moment Hailey’s tears began to fall. She cried about how much she missed them, how she was beaten constantly, claiming her body was covered in scars that would never heal. She said she slept in a dog cage, ate moldy food, and was almost sold to a trafficking ring. “Mom, Dad, seeing you again… I finally feel so happy!” 2 I absentmindedly picked at my nails. [Hailey is about to show off her so-called “scars.” But she cut those herself, just to fish for sympathy.] Mom took the bait. She pulled Hailey’s wrist, examining the scabbed wounds, her voice trembling. “Hailey, these wounds… did they do this to you?” Hailey flinched, her eyes shifting, but she nodded and choked out, “Yes… they hit me. They said I was a money-loser, hard to sell…” She hugged Mom tightly again. “It’s okay now that I’m back. Mom, I missed you so much.” I curled my lip. [Her foster parents treated her better than their own bio kids. They gave her a massive allowance every month, yet she throws them under the bus. Disgusting. She blew all that cash chasing after idols.] Mom and Dad exchanged a look, their faces grim. Dad patted Mom’s hand and stood up. “I need to make a call to the office.” I watched Dad’s retreating back, raising my hand to fix my hair to hide the smirk on my lips. Only I knew that Dad wasn’t calling the office. He was sending people to investigate what really happened to Hailey all these years. Dad was a suspicious man; after hearing my inner voice predict so much, how could he blindly trust Hailey like before? After Dad left, Hailey performed even harder, weeping about how she was starved and forced to do manual labor in her new home. Mom, however, wasn’t as emotional as she was in my past life. She just lightly patted Hailey’s back, comforting her with a distracted air. I watched the scene without expression. 3 In my previous life, young Hailey and I went out to play. I only turned away to buy ice cream, and my sister willingly followed a wealthy-looking trafficker. I chased after them but couldn’t catch up. When my parents and brother found out, they blamed everything on me. Even I believed I was a sinner. I endured thirteen years of torture and verbal abuse from them, living a life worse than a dog’s, walking on eggshells every day. When I was twenty, Hailey was found. Her return instantly garnered the family’s total adoration. I thought it would alleviate my guilt. But Hailey pointed at me and said: “I only got lost because Harper sold me to the traffickers. She said I was the extra child and everyone would be happier if I disappeared!” The moment she said that, my family’s faces changed. They believed their beloved, lost princess instantly. They took turns slapping me, forcing me to kneel and kowtow to Hailey for forgiveness. My life became a living hell. Not a single day of peace. Before I was finally tortured to death, Hailey smugly revealed the truth to me. “I really do have good luck! We were poor back then, and I didn’t want to suffer, so I left with the trafficker. I ended up with rich parents.” “Too bad they went bankrupt right when I turned eighteen. Luckily, I saw in the papers that Dad and Mom struck it rich, so I came back. Otherwise, you would have enjoyed all this wealth alone!” I hadn’t realized Hailey was so calculating and vicious. I died filled with resentment, only to open my eyes and find myself reborn on the day of her return. And I discovered I could project my inner thoughts and choose who heard them. I looked at Hailey, snuggled in Mom’s arms, unable to hide the smirk on her lips. I wanted to laugh, too. In this life, I wanted to see how Mom, Dad, and Carter would maintain their doting love for Hailey after seeing her true colors! 4 When Dad pushed the door open after his call, his face was iron-gray. Hailey was still crying like a pear blossom bathed in rain. I lowered my eyes. I knew Dad now knew exactly what happened after Hailey got “lost.” [Sigh. Next, Hailey is going to try to grab the spotlight by framing me for her kidnapping.] Hailey didn’t disappoint. As soon as Dad entered, she sobbed, “Dad, actually… when we were little, Harper pushed me toward the bad guys when I wasn’t looking! She said I was extra, and you’d be happy if I was gone.” Hailey looked up at them, eyes red, voice trembling. “Is that true?” If she had been paying attention, she would have noticed Mom pulling her hand away from Hailey’s back, and Dad frowning deeply. I shrank back, my eyes instantly reddening. Dad’s tone was heavy. “Hailey, your sister would never do such a thing.” Mom chimed in, “That’s right. Harper has always been a well-behaved, obedient child.” Obedient? I thought they didn’t know! Hearing this praise, I felt a wave of irony. Two lifetimes, and this was the first time I’d heard them compliment me. I thought they truly saw me as a jinx, a disaster, a nuisance. I sniffled, looking wronged. “Hailey, how can you frame me like that? Clearly, you disliked how poor we were back then and left with the trafficker on purpose… What does that have to do with me?” After saying it, I covered my mouth in horror, as if I had accidentally spilled a secret. Hailey’s face changed drastically. She blurted out, “How did you know?!” The room went silent. Mom and Dad’s faces turned ugly. Hailey realized she had slipped up. She tried to explain frantically, but only dug herself deeper. Seeing Mom and Dad’s faces turning as black as ink, Hailey gritted her teeth, rolled her eyes back, and fainted straight away.

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“You’re polluting the air just by existing in this house.” That’s what my stepbrother, Declan, told me this morning. Feeling wronged, I went crying to my online boyfriend: “Got yelled at again. Need comfort ASAP.” The very next second, Declan’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. His lock screen lit up. A message from [KingBaby]. “Got yelled at again. Need comfort ASAP.” Me: !!! 1 I stared at the notification, frozen. Coincidence? It had to be. To verify, I sent a crying sticker to my online boyfriend. Buzz. Declan’s phone vibrated again. The screen showed [KingBaby] sending a sobbing cartoon bear. I turned to stone. My stepbrother—the guy who looks at me like I’m a cockroach, the guy who criticizes my breathing—is the same clingy, golden-retriever boyfriend who calls me “Baby” online? “No way.” I refused to believe something this absurd. I reached out to tap his screen, wanting to check the profile picture. Slap. My hand was swatted away before I could touch the glass. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to touch other people’s property?” Declan glared at me with pure disgust. “Then again, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Trash attracts trash.” Ever since my mom and I moved into the Sterling mansion, he hasn’t stopped with the insults. To Declan, this “reunion of first loves” after twenty years was a joke. He saw it as an insult to his late mother. Plus, my mom has terminal cancer. She doesn’t have much time left, yet she agreed to marry his dad. In his eyes, we are just gold diggers here for the inheritance. Mom does have a motive. On her hospital bed, she held my hand tightly. “Riley, promise me. Don’t fight with your brother or your stepfather. When I’m gone, the Sterling family can protect you.” If I refused, she would cough up blood from stress. So I promised. I endure everything. Thinking of this, I lowered my head. “Sorry. Your phone kept buzzing. I thought it might be an emergency, so I was bringing it to you.” Declan looked at me suspiciously, then unlocked his phone. The moment he saw the messages, the storm clouds on his face vanished. A smile—one I’d never seen directed at me—broke through, impossible to suppress. His thumbs flew across the screen. A second later, my phone in my pocket vibrated. [Baby, don’t cry! Your brother sounds like a total piece of trash. When we meet, I’ll punch his teeth in for you!] Me: … 2 Declan typed fast and furious. My pocket wouldn’t stop vibrating. I frantically switched it to silent. Declan sneered, looking up. “Getting blown up this late? Which debt collector is it this time?” Wow. The irony. You’re literally roasting yourself. I felt guilty, so I didn’t answer. He took my silence for defiance. “Did you two borrow more money? Is my dad’s fortune not enough for you leeches?” I forced a smile. “No. Just a classmate.” Before moving here, Mom and I lived paycheck to paycheck. When she got sick, the surgery bills piled up. We borrowed money. I worked part-time and paid the installments on time. The lenders were decent. But after we moved into the Sterling estate, the lenders found out. They showed up at the front gates, screaming and making a scene. It was chaos. Through my tears, I had looked up to the second-floor balcony and seen Declan there, smoking a cigarette, watching the show with a smirk. He had tipped them off. “I’m going to my room,” I said. Afraid I’d blow my cover, I ran upstairs. As soon as I closed my door, another message from Declan popped up. [Baby, why aren’t you replying? Are you still mad?] [Sticker: Sad puppy wagging tail] In reality, he shreds my dignity. Online, he’s a whimpering puppy. My feelings were complicated. I ignored him. Declan immediately transferred $5,000 via the app. Note: [Buy yourself some snacks. Please stop being mad.] Thinking of Declan’s cold, hateful eyes downstairs, I immediately hit ‘Refund’. [I don’t want money. I’m just tired and going to sleep.] Declan: [Okay 🙁 Goodnight, baby. Sad Puppy.jpg] The next morning, I was woken up by a vibration. Declan was being horny at 7 AM. [Baby! Up yet? Guess what I’m doing?] [I’m in the shower ;)] I was still half-asleep and forgot that my boyfriend was actually Satan himself. I replied out of habit: [Show me.] Next second, he obediently sent three photos. Wet abs. Water droplets running down a sharp V-line. A towel hanging dangerously low, leaving very little to the imagination. It was… objectively hot. Declan tempted me: [Want to touch?] I wiped invisible drool. [Duh. I want to eat you up.] [Hehe. Baby, let’s meet up then.] I jolted awake. Shit! Riley, you useless traitor! How could you lust after Declan?! Panicked, I ignored him for the rest of the day. He started spiraling for attention. [Are you mad because I asked to meet?] [If it’s too soon, I can wait. Just don’t ignore me.] [Baby, I just felt dizzy. I almost fainted at the gym.] [Care about me, please? My chest hurts.] … I rolled my eyes. Declan is 6’3″, built like a linebacker, and hits the gym daily. I once saw him take down a creep who was filming up a girl’s skirt with one hand. He is not fragile. Thinking of his fist, I knew I had to end this. I typed: [There’s something I’ve been hiding from you. I have to come clean. I’m a dude.] Declan: [?] [Are you joking, baby?] [No joke. That’s why I never wanted to meet.] The chat went silent. The “typing” bubble disappeared. Finally. He’s scared off. I was just celebrating my victory when Declan sent two messages that made my jaw drop. [As long as it’s you, I don’t care if you’re a guy.] [But… can I be on the bottom?] What the hell?! Declan, you’re way too committed! 3 That evening after class, I got a text from the pottery studio. [Ms. Riley, the custom couple’s mugs you sculpted last week have been fired and mailed to your home.] It was the gift I had made for my online boyfriend—Declan. Disaster. The mugs had our couple nicknames carved into them! I rushed home, heart pounding. But when I found the package in the living room, the contents were shattered. Declan was standing there, holding a shard of ceramic. “How much? I’ll pay you for it.” “No need.” I breathed a sigh of relief, grabbing the box of debris. It wasn’t like I could give it to him now anyway. Declan scoffed. “Dating someone? Does he know you’re a manipulative liar?” “If he likes you, he must be blind and stupid.” I was half-angry, half-amused. I turned back on the stairs. “Aren’t you afraid that every curse you say about my boyfriend will eventually bounce back onto you?” Declan raised an eyebrow. “Please. He’s nothing compared to my ‘KingBaby’.” “Oh. Well, I hope you two live happily ever after. Never break up.” I went to my room. Maybe my words made him paranoid. At dinner, halfway through his steak, Declan suddenly spoke up. “Dad, would you care if your future daughter-in-law was a man?” Cough! Cough! I choked on my water. “What?” Arthur, my stepfather, froze. He looked confused. Declan stayed calm. “Can you accept that your son is gay?” “I’m in love. And the person is a guy.” Holy crap. Declan didn’t just come out of the closet; he kicked the door off its hinges. Arthur was shocked. A massive argument erupted. Neither backed down. The war ended with a sharp slap across Declan’s face. I never expected my little lie to cause World War III. What shocked me more was that Declan texted me about it immediately. [Baby, don’t worry about gender. I came out to my family.] [They agreed.] Agreed?! He just got slapped! Thinking of the red handprint on his face, I felt a pang of guilt. I grabbed an ice pack and went to his room. Declan glared at me. “I don’t need your fake sympathy.” “You misunderstood.” I tossed the ice pack into his trash can. “I came to laugh at you.” Declan turned green with rage. The next day, Arthur looked like a ghost. Dark circles, stumbling walk. He’s a good man. Even with his busy schedule, he visits my mom at the hospital every day. He treats me like his own daughter. I never had a dad, and Arthur filled that void. If he finds out I’m “dating” his son, it might kill him. I made a decision. I texted Declan: [Let’s break up. I met someone else.] Declan instantly sent a 60-second voice memo. Probably pure profanity. I didn’t listen. I blocked him. For the next ten days, Declan was a walking zombie. He rejected all his friends’ party invites. He slept all day, drank half the wine cellar at night. Every day, he’d corner me with a gloomy stare. “Riley. Did you break up with your boyfriend yet?” seeing his misery, I nodded. “Yeah. Dumped him.” Satisfied, he’d slump back onto the sofa, unlit cigarette in his mouth, laughing bitterly. “Love is disgusting. Who needs it?” Then he’d secretly wipe his eyes. I thought the drama would fade. But then the Dean called me into his office. “Chloe told me you know the author ‘Solitude’.” Chloe is my best friend. And a massive blabbermouth. I had only told her I was a superfan of ‘Solitude’ and that we chatted online. Thankfully, I never told her that ‘Solitude’ is my online boyfriend—or that he is Declan Sterling. The Dean smiled. “Solitude has a huge following. We need exposure for admissions. He’s an alumnus. We want him to give a guest lecture.” “But he’s very private. We can’t reach him.” I wanted to refuse. The Dean leaned in. “If you pull this off, the university will write you a recommendation letter for any internship you want.” A recommendation from the Dean? That’s golden. I caved. I unblocked Declan. Sent a simple: [You there?] Given his mood lately, I expected abuse. Instead, Declan sent a sticker of a puppy wagging its tail so hard it was flying. [Baby! Is the grass not greener on the other side?] I grit my teeth. [Actually, I’m messaging you as a student representative from Sterling University. We want to discuss a work opportunity.] Declan didn’t reply. Ten minutes later: [What is it?] I explained the guest lecture request professionally. Declan: [I’ll do it. On one condition.] [We meet.] 4 I agreed to meet him on the day of the lecture. My plan? Hire a guy to pretend to be “Halo”—someone Declan would absolutely hate. Shatter his filter. But God has a twisted sense of humor. On the day, the hired actor called me. “Sorry, Riley. Car accident. Can’t make it.” I panicked. Declan texted: [Baby, I’m at the campus. Meet me?] Stalling, I typed: [Napping. Meet at the fountain square after the lecture!] I sprinted to Chloe’s dorm. No time to find another guy. I dragged Chloe out of bed, explaining the tangled mess while shoving clothes into her hands. She blinked sleepily. “That’s… messy.” “Just be a toxic nightmare. If you scare him off, I’ll buy your lunch for the whole semester.” Chloe saluted. “Say no more. I excel at being a red flag.” When we met Declan, Chloe’s eyes widened. “Riley, you eat good!” Declan is objectively gorgeous. Today, he was dressed up. Glasses, a soft sweater—he looked like a refined, intellectual gentleman, not the arrogant jerk I lived with. Declan was surprised to see me next to her. He frowned, then looked at Chloe with a gentle gaze. “Halo?” “That’s me!” Chloe chirped. Declan beamed. He handed her flowers and a gift bag, bending down to look her in the eyes. “Finally. You lied about being a boy? You’re adorable.” Chloe blushed. Declan had booked a fancy restaurant. Chloe, remembering her mission, grabbed my arm. “Riley is my bestie. If we eat, she comes too. You don’t mind, right?” Declan: “Of course not.” Then he shot me a look that screamed Get lost. I smiled and linked arms with Chloe. Dinner was excruciating. I was the brightest third wheel in history. Declan treated me like air. But with Chloe? He was terrified of upsetting her. Chloe acted her heart out. She demanded expensive wine, talked about wanting a rich husband, said she hates kids, loves clubbing, and wants an open relationship. Declan, the love-sick puppy, agreed to everything. Until she mentioned other men. His face went dark. “Baby,” he said, voice low. “Can’t your leash just hold me?” I almost choked on my pasta. Halfway through, I escaped to the bathroom. When I came out, Declan blocked my path. “Riley.” His eyes were cold. “There’s a limit to being shameless. When are you leaving? Ruining other people’s dates… is that a family tradition?” He looked at me like he wanted to snap my neck. I lowered my eyes. “I’m leaving now.” I went back, grabbed my bag, and whispered to Chloe, “I’m heading out.” Chloe texted me under the table: [Don’t go far. I’ll dump him in 30 mins, then we go get drinks!] [Okay. Be careful.] It was late. Most shops were closing. I sat on a bench around the corner, shivering in the wind. Thirty minutes passed. My phone buzzed. It was our housekeeper. [Ms. Riley, I accidentally broke your custom mugs the other day. Mr. Declan hired a master restorer. They just arrived. Look.] She sent a photo. The mugs were fixed with kintsugi—gold lacquer filling the cracks. It was beautiful. But the photo was high-res. The carved nicknames were clearly visible. Halo & KingBaby. Wait. The housekeeper sent this to me… [I sent the photo to Mr. Declan too, to show him the work is done.] Fuck. My blood ran cold. Just then, my phone vibrated. A text from Declan. [Come back. Chloe is in trouble!] Panic. I didn’t think, I just sprinted back to the restaurant. Chloe saw me burst in, panting. She started making frantic faces at me. Run! I looked at the table. Declan wasn’t there. I realized too late. It was a trap. I turned to flee, but slammed into a wall of solid chest. A voice, trembling with suppressed emotion, came from above my head. “Riley.” Goosebumps exploded all over my skin. I turned my head stiffly. Under the streetlights, Declan’s eyes were red. He wore an expression that was halfway between crying and laughing. A terrifying, broken look. “…So, it was you.”

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I was five when I had the fever. A high, blinding one. The doctors said it was the delayed treatment that left me permanently a beat behind. A little slower, a little weaker, never quite catching up to the world around me. Next to me, my sister, Genevieve, two years younger, was a burst of effervescent sunlight—quick, graceful, and adored. Of course, she was the favorite. Even the boy who was supposed to marry me—my childhood crush and eventual fiancé—grew to dislike my clumsy presence and broke the engagement for her. The only constant, the only harbor, was Callum. “Don’t cry, you little fool,” he’d say, pulling me into the crook of his arm. “If they won’t have you, I will.” I clung to Callum. He was the one person who saw past the C-minus grades and the perpetually lost expression. Then, I saw him comforting Genevieve. “You love Rhys,” he was saying, his voice a low, rough velvet. “I’ll step aside, willingly.” Genevieve was weeping, her head buried in his chest. “Since I can’t be with you the way I want,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “I’ll get engaged to your sister. I’ll become family in a different sense. I just need to be near you, Genevieve.” A shard of ice shot through me. “I’ve always loved you,” he finished, his voice breaking. Ah. It turned out that even Callum, my rock, was never truly mine. 1 I stepped back, my feet frozen to the spot. I had come to find Callum, hoping to ask if he had time to accompany me to a doctor’s appointment. I thought I might be pregnant. The doctor, a girl I vaguely remembered from high school, smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Congratulations,” she said. “You’re definitely pregnant.” Then, her face softened with concern. “But you came alone?” I sat in the sterile hospital corridor, tracing the faint shadow of the ultrasound image on the sheet. I gently touched the paper with my thumb. “Will you be as unwelcome as I am?” I whispered to the shadow. “It’s alright. Mama will love you. Don’t be afraid to come into this world.” Callum was waiting when I got home, his expression tight with anxiety. “Where did you run off to? You didn’t answer your phone. Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Seeing me safe, the tension eased from his shoulders. His voice softened as he took the medical sheet from my hand. “What’s this you’re holding?” I wanted to show him. I opened my mouth. “Callum—” Genevieve’s voice cut through the air. “I’m home!” Callum’s gaze lifted, pulled away by her voice as effortlessly as a tether cut free. He discreetly released my hand. “Your sister’s back. Let’s eat.” The table was set with all of Genevieve’s favorite dishes. I had no appetite. A wave of involuntary nausea seized me, and I clapped a hand over my mouth, suppressing a dry heave. Callum, mid-motion of preparing the meal for Genevieve, paused. He frowned at me, his eyes sharp with subtle rebuke. “Aubrey, don’t be dramatic.” “You need to get over this picky eating of yours.” Genevieve was pregnant. But her husband, Rhys, was on an overseas business trip when a local conflict erupted. He was still missing. Worried about her, my parents had moved her into my house. “Aubrey, all you do is your little drawing and painting anyway. It’s not a real job,” my mother had lectured me. “We’re all so busy. You need to take good care of your sister, watch over her, and make sure nothing happens to her.” “Right now, Genevieve comes first. Everything is about Genevieve.” I had heard versions of this speech my whole life. Unlike healthy, bright Genevieve, I was the slow one, the sickly one, the straight C-minus student who always made my parents sigh and worry. I couldn’t tell when other children were teasing me. Once, my mother had plucked a handful of weeds that had been thrown on my head and flung them onto the pavement, her face tight with fury. “Why are you so stupid? Can’t you fight back?” When I was sick and wanted to climb into my father’s embrace, he would push me away, his expression grim. “Aubrey, I have to take your sister to her conservatory competition. Stop making a scene.” Even Genevieve would ask me, when my hospitalization meant they had to cut short her family vacation: “Sister, why are you always such a pain?” My family poured all their energy and dreams into the healthy, talented, and beautiful Genevieve. In the beginning, when Rhys and I were still engaged, he used to visit me. He’d bring little toys or books. I loved Rhys. But as we got older, he stopped coming. He and Genevieve grew closer, their bond glittering and undeniable. If someone suggested including me in their plans, Rhys would wave a dismissive hand. “Don’t bother calling her. She’s boring.” “How can two sisters be so different, from the same parents? Genevieve is a swan, and she’s just… the forgettable understudy.” The first boy I ever loved fell for my sister. I took the small, carefully wrapped gift I’d prepared for Rhys and hid it, retreating from their orbit. I learned to disappear. Only Callum was different. He would find me when I was hiding and crying. He would sit by the lake and light a birthday candle for me when everyone else forgot. He never missed a year after that. When I was twenty, Rhys publicly and cruelly ended our engagement: “Lian Zhixia is too slow and boring! Who would marry her?” Callum had taken my hand, led me away, and said, “I will.” I looked into the mirror, at my own swollen, red eyes. If only Callum hadn’t been lying. 2. My birthday was just two days after the hospital visit. I saw the tickets tucked into Callum’s jacket pocket: two passes to the VIP viewing deck for the biggest Summer Firework Spectacular in the neighboring city. “Callum, I don’t want to go there for my birthday,” I said quietly. His eyes froze for a split second. He smoothly withdrew the tickets, deliberated, and then said, “Aubrey, these aren’t for you.” “Genevieve said she wanted a change of scenery to clear her head. I can’t let her go alone.” Suddenly, I was eighteen again, back in the darkness of a night when the whole family was celebrating Genevieve’s latest trophy, and no one remembered my birthday. Every bone in my body felt a faint ache. I managed to make my voice sound light. “What about me, then? It’s my birthday that night.” Callum pinched the bridge of his nose. “Genevieve is still very fragile right now. If we throw a big party for you, it might upset her.” He looked at me with an earnest plea. “Aubrey, birthdays can be celebrated later. Just this once. We grew up together; we should look out for each other.” “Besides, you don’t like big crowds anyway. I promise I’ll come home as early as I can. Be mature about this.” On my birthday, I saw the photos on Genevieve’s social media feed. The bright, dazzling fireworks framed her silhouette and Callum’s. She was making a wish for her baby’s health and for news of Rhys. Callum’s profile, steady and knight-like, suddenly brought back a flood of forgotten details from my nineteenth birthday. That year, the neighboring city held its first firework show, and we all went. Rhys and Genevieve vanished into the crowd almost immediately. The chaotic human tide nearly caused a stampede. I couldn’t breathe, my heart hammering in my ears. Just as I stumbled, Callum fought his way through the crush and shielded me. When he saw only me, he looked startled. He craned his neck, looking around desperately. “Where’s Genevieve?” When they finally rejoined us, Genevieve’s face was flushed, her hand tightly laced with Rhys’s. She smiled brightly. “Callum, were you looking for me? I just saw your text that you needed to talk.” Callum’s gaze dropped to their interlocked hands, then back to Genevieve’s radiant smile. Rhys scoffed, a flicker of hostility in his eyes. “What, you planning on declaring your feelings to Genevieve tonight too?” Callum’s arm suddenly wrapped around my shoulder, and he laughed, the sound hollow. “I was actually looking for you two to secretly brainstorm what we should do for Aubrey’s birthday.” Genevieve, in the first flush of love, saw my closeness with Callum through a lens of romance. “Wow, Callum, you’re so good to my sister.” She emphasized the word good. Amidst the explosions of light, Callum handed me a small box he’d been clutching. “Happy birthday, Aubrey.” I held the small box carefully, overwhelmed, my ears burning red. I was so dense. It took me all these years to realize the truth. I finally understood why, when he couldn’t find them in the crowd that night, Callum had frantically called Genevieve’s name. I understood the controlled grief and loss in his eyes when he looked at Genevieve and Rhys. And why the gift he gave me that night was a necklace shaped like a cello. I understood the way his eyes had darted away when I’d said excitedly, “Thank you for remembering my birthday.” Callum didn’t come home before the new day arrived. I blew out the candles on my small cake alone. I used to wish that my parents would care more, that Callum would love me forever, and that Rhys and Genevieve would stop hating me. A faint, muffled sob echoed in the dark apartment. Now, I just wanted to leave them all behind. The candles were out. My twenty-eight years of foolish life were over. 3. Rhys was found and brought home, but he had significant memory loss. I didn’t go to the hospital with them. I knew the truth of what happened at Rhys and Genevieve’s engagement party years ago. Someone had spiked Rhys’s drink, and I had been trapped with him in a secluded room. His heavy breathing was hot on my neck. I was screaming, terrified, when finally someone found us. I stumbled out, clutching my torn dress, reeling from the terror. But when I looked up, everyone was staring at me with a look of vile judgment. My father’s hand swung across my face. The slap made my ears ring, and he was breathing heavily, his chest heaving with rage. “Shameful!” he roared. “How dare you destroy your sister’s engagement party like this?” Rhys, the drug’s effect now fading, and Genevieve looked at me with pure disgust. “Sister, your engagement to Rhys was an outdated arrangement by our parents,” Genevieve said, her voice dripping with scorn. “He doesn’t love you. Why are you grasping for something that isn’t yours?” Rhys added, his voice ice cold, “Did you stoop this low because I broke off the engagement? I always thought you were just dull and boring. I underestimated your sheer malice.” “Get out. I never want to see you again.” No matter how I explained, they refused to believe me. I became a transparent ghost in my own home. Slowly, I stopped speaking altogether. The only person who claimed to believe me was Callum. Though even he said, “Aubrey, of course I believe you.” “But apologize to Genevieve. It’s her important day, and you ruined it.” Later, he proposed, saying that marrying him would silence the gossips. Now, Genevieve was sobbing in his arms, venting her frustration over Rhys’s memory loss. Callum’s hand stroked her shoulder, an endless stream of tenderness in his touch. Genevieve, needing a reaction from Rhys, asked Callum to pretend to be her boyfriend and provoke him. The next thing I heard was that Rhys and Callum had gotten into a fistfight. They stood confronting each other like two lions defending their territory. Rhys, predictably, was being cruel. “I suddenly remembered, isn’t your wife my ex-fiancée? You just go around picking up my sloppy seconds, don’t you?” Callum grabbed Rhys’s collar, squeezing so hard Rhys could only gasp for air. “What are you so proud of?” Callum spat out, his face a mask of fury. “If I hadn’t been watching Aubrey’s every move and sent someone to find her, your little plot to drug him would have worked. You would have been completely out of the picture!” The last wire holding my sanity snapped. The only fragile strand of trust I had clung to—that Callum had married me out of true compassion—was just his self-serving lie: “I watched her, so she couldn’t do anything worse.” “I sacrificed my own happiness, and I’ve been putting up with Aubrey for you for years! That’s enough!” They tossed me between them like unwanted trash. Callum took Genevieve away for a vacation. Three days after they left, a whole design team and a contractor arrived at the house. “Mr. Thorne instructed us to complete the remodel before his return.” I saw his long list of requirements: the room layout, the flowers in the courtyard, the furniture brands. Everything was to be changed to fit Genevieve’s preferences. I packed my own belongings and watched as they took down my illustrations, turned my art studio into a music room, and tore out all the flowers in the garden to replant them. I remembered the day we moved in, when Callum had affectionately ruffled my hair. “I used to live here alone, but now it’s ours. We can design it exactly the way you like.” Back then, no matter what I suggested, Callum would smile warmly and say, “Yes, whatever you like is fine.” He never interfered, never questioned. Now I knew. It wasn’t devotion; it was indifference. For the person he truly loved, he was diligent and devoted, fussing over the temperature of the room. 4. I received a text from Callum just before he and Genevieve were due to return. “Aubrey, I need to talk to you about something when I get back.” But that night, I didn’t even have time to grab a coat before I was dragged to the hospital. Genevieve and Callum had been in a car accident on their way home. They had hit a pedestrian. “You’re the same blood type as the injured person. You’ll stay here,” my mother ordered, her eyes wild. “If the blood bank runs low, they’ll use yours.” The cold night air hit my thin top, clinging to my back. It was a cold that pierced to the bone. I spoke with a terrifying new calmness. “I can’t donate.” Callum’s brow furrowed. “Aubrey, this person absolutely cannot die.” My mother’s fingernails dug into my arm. “What is the meaning of this? Are you trying to hurt your sister?” “How can I hurt her? You were so afraid of her being stressed that you already sent her home, didn’t you?” I looked at their accusing faces. “Why don’t you ever listen to me? Am I really that malicious?” My nose began to sting. “None of you even asked why I can’t donate.” No one answered. As I started to walk away, Callum seized my shoulders and pressed me back down onto the bench. My tears were clinging to my lashes. His grip was like iron; I couldn’t move an inch. The amount of blood they took wasn’t huge, but afterward, I was dizzy and nauseous. Callum started to move toward me to embrace me, but I bent over, dry heaving. I didn’t have the strength to push him away, so I simply stumbled to my feet. I walked slowly, carefully, suppressing the urge to vomit. My pale, almost ghostly reflection stared back at me in the glass door. I turned back to them. “I helped the person you love most. I don’t owe you anything now, do I?” The next day, the media ran the story about the traffic accident. They praised “renowned artist Genevieve Thorne” for taking full responsibility, noting that her family had also “volunteered to donate blood as a token of apology.” The injured party was stable. Callum, acting as spokesman, called for safety and established a corresponding charitable foundation. Public opinion soared. Everyone was calling Genevieve the “goddess of the music world,” praising her and her family’s kind hearts and social responsibility. I stared at the screen, a laugh bubbling up and turning into a ragged sob. They hadn’t needed my blood at all. They only needed me as a footnote—a detail to complete my sister’s beautiful narrative. Aubrey Lian, how pathetic are you? Callum was shocked when he got a call from an old high school acquaintance. He was silent for a moment before placing the name. “Callum, I tried calling Aubrey, but she didn’t pick up. How is she doing? Any severe reaction to the blood donation?” Callum was confused by the sudden concern. He replied politely, “Thank you for asking. She’s perfectly fine.” The voice on the other end let out a long sigh of relief. “That’s reckless. She came in alone for the prenatal check-up a while back.” “Then she came in alone for the termination. And right after that, she goes and donates blood? Luckily, everything turned out okay.” A roaring sound filled Callum’s ears. He hung up abruptly, forcing a careless chuckle. “Who was that scammer?” “They got the whole story wrong. They didn’t even know who was pregnant.” I need to tell Aubrey to block that number. He dialed the phone number that had flashed on his screen almost every day for months. “The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please try again later.” The line went dead again and again. Callum ignored Genevieve’s questioning stare and bolted out the door.

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The last year of my life, the year the cancer was eating me alive, was the same year my daughter, Clara, married into the Ashworth dynasty. I died believing she was finally safe, set up for a life of storybook happiness. I was wrong. Less than a year later, Preston Ashworth’s so-called “Lost Love”—the one he was supposedly destined for, the woman who returned to turn our world to ash—came back. Serena Hayes. The torment she inflicted, drove Clara into a debilitating depression. Seven months pregnant, and the viper was making her down shots of hard liquor in a VIP room. The rage that exploded in my chest—the sheer, blinding injustice—was enough to finally let go. I took my last, rattling breath. Then, I woke up. I was no longer Clara’s dying mother; I was the formidable Eleanor “Ellie” Sterling, the undisputed matriarch of the family that was systematically destroying her. Preston Ashworth’s mother. I found the location and kicked open the heavy door to the private room. Serena Hayes, a picture of false piety in a flowing silk dress, immediately plastered a smile on her face and rushed over. “Ellie! Mother Ashworth, what a surprise. How you come here?” Chapter 1 The last year of my life, the year the cancer was eating me alive, was the same year my daughter, Clara, married into the Ashworth dynasty. I died believing she was finally safe, set up for a life of storybook happiness. I was wrong. Less than a year later, Preston Ashworth’s so-called “Lost Love”—the one he was supposedly destined for, the woman who returned to turn our world to ash—came back. Serena Hayes. The torment she inflicted, drove Clara into a debilitating depression. Seven months pregnant, and the viper was making her down shots of hard liquor in a VIP room. The rage that exploded in my chest—the sheer, blinding injustice—was enough to finally let go. I took my last, rattling breath. Then, I woke up. I was no longer Clara’s dying mother; I was the formidable Eleanor “Ellie” Sterling, the undisputed matriarch of the family that was systematically destroying her. Preston Ashworth’s mother. I found the location and kicked open the heavy door to the private room. Serena Hayes, a picture of false piety in a flowing silk dress, immediately plastered a smile on her face and rushed over. “Ellie! Mother Ashworth, what a surprise. How you come here?” 1 The room went instantly silent. The handful of people inside, the hangers-on and sycophants, all stared. Serena, her hand instinctively resting on her perfectly tailored bump, kept her saccharine smile fixed. “Did Preston send you to pick me up…?” I didn’t spare her a glance. I walked straight past her, my eyes locked on the leather sectional. My daughter. Seven months pregnant, Clara was pinned against the cushions, struggling as a group of people tried to force a glass down her throat. The stench of spilled whiskey already permeated her thin dress. “Let her go.” The man with the loud floral shirt paused, looking uncertainly at Serena. Serena grabbed my arm, her touch instantly repulsive. “Mother Ashworth, it’s just a game. Clara lost a round, so she’s being punished.” CRACK! The sound—a wet, shocking crack—cut through the tension. I’d used all my resurrected strength on the slap. “Who do you think you’re calling ‘Mother’?” I hissed, my voice dangerously low. “Clara Ashworth is the only legal, recognized daughter-in-law of this family. You are nothing.” Serena’s head was still turned to the side, her expression frozen in disbelief. I didn’t look at her, my gaze hard and unforgiving. “I’ll say it one more time. Get away from her.” Serena’s eyes started to well up, a practiced show of wounded innocence. “Clara was being dramatic. Besides, a tiny sip of wine never hurt a pregnant woman…” “A tiny sip? That was a full glass of single-malt whiskey!” The thought of the burning liquid being forced on my pregnant daughter sent a renewed wave of fury through me. My eyes swept pointedly over Serena’s own noticeably prominent belly. “You’re a pregnant woman, too. Why don’t you offer to drink that for her?” “Absolutely not!” Serena recoiled instantly, a flash of pure fear crossing her face. “Mom, what are you doing here?!” Preston Ashworth’s voice boomed from the doorway. Serena instantly broke free of my grip and rushed to him, her eyes now truly red. “It was nothing, Preston! We were just playing a silly game with Clara, and Mother Ashworth got so angry…” Preston wrapped his arms around her, instantly comforting his mistress. “Mom, it’s just a drink. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.” He didn’t spare Clara a single glance. Not one. Watching him, my heart went cold, inch by devastating inch. This was the man my precious Clara had trusted with her life. This was the son-in-law I had prayed over from my deathbed, hoping he would give her the happiness I could no longer guarantee. I spoke, my voice devoid of warmth. “This is the only warning you will get.” “If Clara and that child suffer any kind of permanent harm, I promise you, I will not hesitate to ruin you both.” 2 I drove Clara straight back to the Ashworth mansion, a cold silence hanging between us, and ordered the household staff to see to her comfort. A young maid, hesitant, guided Clara towards a dimly lit corner on the second floor. Then she pushed open a door I hadn’t noticed—a door that led to a small utility closet. The maid helped Clara inside and started to close the door. A rush of foul air—stale garbage and mildew—hit me. My brow furrowed. “What in God’s name are you doing?” I demanded of the maid. The maid looked back, genuinely confused. “Madam, this is Mrs. Ashworth’s room.” My breath hitched. My pupils instantly constricted. This was my daughter’s home? Her sanctuary? A single, narrow bed was shoved into the corner. It was the dead of winter, and the only covering was a flimsy cotton quilt, the exact one I’d knitted for her senior year of high school. She was the officially recognized Mrs. Ashworth! I fought down the urge to scream. I forced myself to maintain a smooth, even tone. “Go. Now. Clear out the South-facing Master Suite on the third floor.” “But that’s where Miss Hayes keeps her things…” “Clear it out. All of it.” The staff instantly scurried to obey. Within minutes, a flurry of activity began, moving Serena’s expensive-looking clutter out of the most luxurious suite in the house. Serena arrived moments later, surveying the sudden upheaval. “Stop! Who gave you the right to touch my things?!” This time, the staff ignored her, recognizing the sudden shift in the balance of power. Serena stomped her foot, enraged, then spotted me on the second-floor landing. She took a deep breath, smoothing her dress, forcing herself to adopt a contrite, obedient expression. Her hand automatically went to her stomach. “Mother Ashworth, why are you doing this? I’m carrying Preston’s child…” “Don’t you worry about Preston getting angry when he sees you throwing my belongings out?” I looked down at her, my expression utterly flat. “Clara is also pregnant.” “And the child she carries is the legitimate heir of the Ashworth name. Yours is not.” Serena didn’t react as expected. She laughed, a brittle, ugly sound. “Clara? She barely qualifies as a decent babysitter!” “She only latched onto Preston to get money for her mother’s medical bills. Preston only indulged her out of pity.” Her voice dropped, thick with scorn. “Now that her cancer-ridden mother is dead, Clara is a used plaything. She’s overstayed her welcome.” Serena’s words landed like sharp little knives, one after the other, plunging into the part of my heart that was still Clara’s mother. You told me you loved him, Clara. That he loved you. You told me you were happy. Was this what you endured all along? Were you sacrificing yourself even then? I clenched my fists so tight my nails dug into my palms. Serena, misinterpreting my silence as defeat, pressed her advantage, her tone thick with sneering confidence. “Preston runs this house, ultimately. Your son loves me, not her. Clara may be the legal wife, but she’ll be making way for me soon enough. Why cause a rift in the family for a toy Preston has already discarded?” I smiled then, a small, cold curve of my lips. I looked straight into the triumphant gleam in her eyes. “You want to join the Ashworth family?” I asked softly. “Preston’s approval is irrelevant. You have to ask me.” Serena’s face faltered, but before she could retort, the front door swung open. 3 Preston Ashworth walked in to find a mountain of Serena’s luxury goods piled on the Italian marble floor. His brows immediately drew together. “What the hell is going on here?” Serena’s composure instantly broke. She flew into his arms, tears springing to her eyes. “It’s nothing, darling. Just a misunderstanding.” She pulled back, looking martyr-like. “That suite has the best light. It really should go to Clara. I’m just being a little sentimental about the move… I might have been a bit short with the staff, and I upset Mother Ashworth.” Preston tenderly wiped the tears from her cheek, his concern centered solely on her. He finally looked up at me. “Mom, I told you. If you have an issue, you address it with me. Why are you punishing Serena? If you want to change her room, we can discuss it like adults.” “Discuss it like adults?” I raised an eyebrow and pointed towards the dark utility closet. “Was that the result of your ‘adult’ discussion? Making your seven-months-pregnant wife live in a glorified trash room?” Preston’s face flushed. He avoided my gaze. “She could have asked for a different room. Why did she have to steal Serena’s?” “Steal? I put your legal wife into the best suite in the house. What exactly is the problem?” Preston was speechless. After a long, awkward silence, he muttered, “But Serena is further along…” I almost laughed at the sheer absurdity of his entitlement. “Preston, your legally wedded wife is seven months pregnant! Your mistress is carrying a child that is due before your wife’s. You’ve been married less than a year. How does that reflect on the Ashworth name, exactly?” His face went crimson. Serena, seeing his distress, gently stroked his arm, adopting the voice of a gentle angel. “Don’t fight with your mother over me, Preston. I really don’t mind where I stay, as long as you and the baby are happy. We should listen to Mother Ashworth.” She even gave me a beatific, pitying smile. Predictably, Preston only grew more protective. He looked down at Serena, his voice firm. “You listen to me. Pack a bag. You’re moving into the Master Bedroom with me tonight.” Serena looked stunned for a second, then shook her head softly. “No, darling, really. Don’t cause trouble with your mother. I can sleep anywhere, truly. As long as you and the baby are well…” “You’ll do as I say,” Preston insisted, patting her hand, his tone now a low growl. “I still run this house.” He put his arm around her and walked away. He didn’t dare look back at me. Serena leaned into him, utterly victorious. But before they rounded the staircase, she shot me a look over Preston’s shoulder—a fleeting glance of smug triumph and cold mockery. I remained still, watching them leave. When the massive house finally fell silent, I turned and walked up to Clara’s room. She was already settled, the silence in the luxurious room oppressive. I could barely hear her shallow breathing. She wasn’t sleeping peacefully; even in her sleep, her brow was deeply furrowed. I sat on the edge of the bed and gently took her cold hand. “Mom…” she murmured. “I’m here, Clara. I’m here.” She must have heard me because her fingers tightened, clinging to mine with a desperate strength. My mind replayed the scene from the hallway: Preston and Serena, intertwined, openly flaunting their affair. And here, my daughter suffered alone. My grip around her hand tightened. You have only me now, my sweet girl. Then, my gaze fell on her arm. Her sleeve had ridden up in the struggle, revealing an angry, purple bruise across her wrist. My heart plunged into my stomach. I carefully pulled the sleeve higher. A collection of injuries. Old ones, fading yellow. New ones, a sickening, fresh purple-red. I lowered my eyes to her pale, sleeping face and gently smoothed the crease from her brow. Then, I stood and quietly left the room. The muffled sound of Serena’s high-pitched laughter and Preston’s gentle, indulgent replies drifted down the hall from the Master Suite. I stood in the deep shadow of the landing, listening, my face empty of expression. Preston Ashworth. Serena Hayes. Very well. The scars your cruelty inflicted… I will repay every single one. Every moment of pain. With interest. You will pay for this. 4 To compensate Serena for the ‘trauma’ of being moved, Preston decided to throw a lavish dinner party. He also promised her that he would publicly announce her child as the Ashworth family’s sole and rightful heir. The ballroom was packed with the city’s elite. Preston stood in the center of the floor, Serena on his arm, beaming with self-satisfaction. “Congratulations, Preston!” “What a lucky lady, Mrs. Ashworth!” The fawning praises echoed through the room. No one mentioned the true Mrs. Ashworth, Clara, as if she were a ghost, an inconvenient memory. It was then that the grand double doors of the ballroom were thrown open. Silence. I stood in the doorway, my gaze sweeping the room. Preston spotted me and, with Serena on his arm, walked over. “Mom, you came. Perfect. Serena and I were just about to…” “Where is Clara?” I cut him off, my voice steady. Preston hesitated, his eyes darting away. “It’s a celebration, Mom. Don’t bring her up. She made a mistake, and she needs to reflect on it.” “What mistake?” Preston’s brow furrowed. “She is a spiteful woman. She tried to push Serena down the stairs this afternoon. If I hadn’t seen it, the outcome would have been unthinkable.” Serena, ever the consummate performer, instantly welled up, her voice a soft, injured whisper. “Mother Ashworth, Clara was truly terrible this time. We almost… almost lost the baby. Preston was simply upset, so he had to punish her.” I ignored Serena’s pathetic act and fixed my gaze on Preston. “She is not well. Tell me where Clara is, immediately.” Preston sighed, exasperated. “Not well? Can’t you see she’s acting? She’s manipulating you for sympathy. And besides, I am her husband. She misbehaved, and I have every right to discipline her!” My patience snapped. The thought of my daughter locked away somewhere, hurting, was unbearable. “Preston Ashworth! I’m asking you one last time. Where is my daughter?!” “Your daughter?” Serena repeated the phrase softly, a sneer forming at the corners of her mouth. She chuckled. “Ellie, are you feeling alright? You’ve been under a lot of stress. How could Clara be your daughter? Preston, maybe we should call a psychiatrist for your mother.” Preston’s face tightened. “Mom, be rational! You don’t have a daughter. Clara is nothing to you, she’s certainly not a part of this family…” He sighed deeply. “Enough. You’re overtired. Guards!” He waved toward the door. “My mother is exhausted. Escort her back to her room.” Two large security guards stepped forward, ready to intervene. “I’d like to see you try to move me,” I snapped. The guards froze, uncertain. Preston bit back a curse. “What are you waiting for? I am the head of this family. Take the old lady to rest!” I smiled, a cold, predatory smile. “The head of the family? Excellent.” I slowly pulled a thick, official-looking manila envelope from my clutch. When Preston saw the word ADOPTION stamped clearly on the cover, his eyes went wide. His previous confidence evaporated. “Mom, let’s go home and discuss this, just us…” “I gave you a chance, Preston. As of this moment, our relationship is severed. You are no longer the heir to the Ashworth fortune.” Preston stood frozen, his eyes finally showing a flicker of genuine terror. Just then, a maid ran into the ballroom, leaning in to whisper a frantic message into Preston’s ear. The words, though low, carried clearly to me: “Sir, Mrs. Ashworth has been locked in the ice room for three hours…” “We heard her crying earlier, but now the room is silent.” “Should we let her out?”

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Bullied by classmates, called a waste by my mother. With nowhere left to turn, I fell into depression and attempted suicide. My dad tried to get me a leave of absence from college, but my three uncles objected. “You’re spoiling her, that’s why she’s so dramatic.” “Hang her upside down from the balcony. Starve her for three days and nights, she’ll be fine.” I begged for mercy, but my family ignored me. My mother’s phrase, “It’s all for your own good,” explained everything. When I lay injured on the floor, unable to care for my little brother, causing him to be scalded and disfigured, I finally found release. “Mom, if I die, will I stop being a waste?” 1 “Dad, Mom, I’m dying, please let me down…” Hanging upside down was unbearable. Blood rushed to my head, my eyes throbbed with pain, and I felt like I was suffocating. “Hear that? She’s already begging!” “Depression? Suicide attempt? All fake!” My uncles laughed as they drank beer, completely ignoring my pleas. “You guys spoil her too much, that’s why she’s so pretentious.” “Now that she’s hanging from the balcony, you can’t be soft-hearted. Keep her there for at least three days and nights.” My dad looked worried, his brow furrowed deeply. “Is this… dangerous?” My mom waved her hand dismissively. “They have experience. You should listen to the experts.” Uncle Ray chuckled. “I’m a dean of discipline at a high school. I’ve seen too many students like this. Lying just to skip school, claiming depression at the drop of a hat. Where do all these dramatic kids come from?” Uncle Ben nodded in agreement. “Exactly! I took a test in the psych ward once. Basically everyone has mental issues, either depression or anxiety. As the old saying goes, ‘If a man takes no thought about what is distant, he will find sorrow near at hand.’ Isn’t this normal?” Uncle Carl exhaled a puff of smoke. “You should learn from me. My son said he wouldn’t go to school last year. I broke his leg, and now he’s as good as gold. And my daughter, she ran away from home once. I dragged her back and beat her, and now she’s obedient. You guys just feel too sorry for the kid; she’ll walk all over you!” Hearing their words, my dad relaxed a little. Uncle Ray pointed at me sternly. “For these three days, no food, no water! Unless she says she’ll go to school, don’t let her down!” “She’s already in college and still acting like this! If you’re soft, you’ll ruin her life!” My mom nodded. “Understood. I have no problem with it, it’s just Joe who’s always soft on his daughter.” She glared at my dad. He wanted to say something but didn’t dare. Then my mom turned on the TV and played an online English class. 2 “Lily, even if you’re upside down, you have to keep studying. Don’t fall behind.” “Everyone is racing against time. You’ve been out of school for a week, do you know how far behind you are?! What if you graduate late!” “Don’t blame us for being cruel; we’re doing this for your own good!” I had been hanging for an hour, and it was excruciating. “Mom, please let me go…” My mom’s face changed instantly. She slapped me. “Ungrateful thing! I talk to you nicely, and you don’t listen. You insist on being a waste!” “Let me tell you, unless you study yourself to death, keep studying! Don’t give me excuses! Bullying, depression… pah! I don’t believe any of it!” My parents and uncles were busy eating and drinking; they ignored me. My five-year-old brother, Leo, ran over secretly. He stuffed a candy into my hand and touched my face with his small hand. “Sissy, does it hurt?” “I’ll blow on it for you…” Leo blew on me, trying to make me feel better. “Leo, don’t talk to your sister! She’s a waste!” Hearing Mom yell, Leo walked away, looking wronged. Since childhood, the word “waste” has followed me. My mom is a kind mother to the outside world, but a cold demon at home. When I was bullied by classmates, she didn’t help me; she made me apologize to the bullies. When I attempted suicide due to depression, she said I was acting. When I took a break from school to recover, she said I would set a bad example for my brother. My parents urged me to go back to school; I refused. The principal and my advisor came to persuade me; I refused. Now, my mom brought my three uncles, and they called me dramatic, insisting on teaching me a lesson. Everyone pressured me, but no one asked why I wanted to die, why I reached this point. The bullies broke two of my ribs, which still hurt. Now hanging upside down, my chest felt even worse. I wasn’t afraid of death; I just didn’t want to die so painfully. Could you make it quick? 3 Suddenly my vision went black. I couldn’t see anything. Suffocation washed over me. I suddenly felt a bit of fear. What I feared wasn’t the approaching end of my life, but that when the end came, I had never truly lived as myself. “It’s been ten hours, that’s enough!” My dad was extremely worried, seeing my color was very wrong. “No! This is nothing! Joe, don’t be soft!” Just as my uncles were objecting, Grandpa called. “What? Mom fell from the third floor?” “We’re coming right now!” Grandma had an accident, and they rushed to leave. “Let Lily down. She can take care of Leo. We’ll deal with her when we get back!” My mom gave the order, and my dad quickly let me down. “Lily, take care of Leo for dinner and bath, put him to sleep, understand?” It took me a long time to breathe normally. “Can you… leave someone here… I can’t see…” My mom’s face changed instantly. “Stop acting so delicate! Can’t see? Why don’t you say you’re dying!” My mom kicked me hard twice. My healing ribs broke again, and I vomited a mouthful of blood. My dad’s face changed; he looked nervous and uneasy. 4 “Why are you vomiting blood? This… let’s go to the hospital!” My mom pushed him away, glaring at me viciously. “What do you mean by not dodging? Trying to frame me for domestic abuse? Want me to bear that bad name?” “Don’t think you can run away just by pretending to vomit blood. Stay home obediently, don’t go anywhere!” “Clean the floor; it looks unlucky!” She turned and went into the room to pack her bag. My brother gave me his water bottle. “Sissy, drink water.” My dad sighed. “Your mom is just like that, a bit strict, but it’s for your own good.” “We invited your uncles specifically to help you. You have to understand our good intentions.” So that’s what my dad thought. In the room, my mom argued with my dad again. “Just to skip school, full of lies! Even cursing herself to be blind!” “Tell her, even if she dies, I’ll burn her homework for her, so she can’t escape studying even as a ghost!” My mom’s words were like a knife, cutting my wounds deeper. Two months ago, I was locked in the bathroom by bullies, stripped naked, and photographed. When I cried and told my mom, she rolled her eyes coldly. “Why don’t they bully others? Why only you?” “You’re just a waste; you’d be less trouble dead.” When she learned the bullies included the school dean’s daughter and her client’s daughter, my mom immediately took gifts and made me go door-to-door to apologize. “They bullied me, why should I apologize?” My mom slapped me in public. “Endure what you can endure, endure what you can’t.” “If you hadn’t done something wrong, would they bully you?”

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I transmigrated into a dark romance novel with a single mission: capture the heart of Alistair Vane, the city’s most reclusive, sanctimonious billionaire. He was cruel, numb, cold-blooded, and untouchable. And he killed me exactly nine times. The first time, he flayed me alive, tanning my skin to bind his personal bible. The second time, he cut me open to remove the unborn child, turning the fetal skull into a sacrificial chalice. The third time, he carved my flesh into “purified” relics, crushed my 206 bones into dust, and scattered them over the Rockies for the eagles to feast on. … Every time I died, the world reset, and my progress bar dropped back to zero. I crawled over broken glass to pray for him until my knees were ruined. I suffered seventy miscarriages in a single year. When he called me “filthy,” I ate mud for three years just to prove my penitence. But he still killed me. It wasn’t until the ninth attempt, when my soul was already riddled with holes, that I realized the truth. Alistair Vane didn’t have a heart. I begged the System to end the mission, but it was undergoing an update and couldn’t respond. However, the glitch delayed the reset. Floating as a ghost, I watched him gently caress the memorial photo of his dead fiancée, Seraphina. His eyes held a tenderness I had never seen directed at me. “Be patient, my angel. Just one more time. Once I kill that wretch again, we can go back to the moment before you took your own life.” “If she hadn’t drugged me, you never would have walked in on us.” “That was supposed to be my wedding, but it became your funeral.” The truth hit me like a bullet. He wasn’t affected by the reset. He remembered everything. He wasn’t a stone I couldn’t warm up. He was a man who had hated me to the bone since the moment Seraphina died. My mission had failed from the very start. My spirit followed Alistair toward a heavy oak door covered in Latin verses. What I saw inside stopped my spectral heart. The room was filled with silicone casts of Seraphina’s lower body, arranged in neat, obsessive rows. Alistair, the man who preached abstinence and cold detachment for nine lifetimes, picked up one of the molds and kissed it with feverish devotion. He looked more pious than he ever did in church. Then, stripping off his clothes, he began to use the mold like a man possessed. I watched, suffocating in shock. For nine lifetimes, except for the first time when I used drugs, he had refused to touch a woman. In the fourth loop, when I lost control and kissed him, he felt so defiled that he poured boiling oil over himself to “cleanse” his skin. That was the only time the world reset because the target died. Since then, I never dared to touch him. But now? He was groaning, sweating, losing his mind over a piece of silicone. I looked at his ecstatic face, then at my own ghostly hands—hands that had been bleached white from scrubbing his floors with harsh chemicals. The irony was crushing. It wasn’t about piety. He just thought I was dirty. Suddenly, the System came back online. [Host death detected. Initiating reset.] 1 In a blur, I was back in the center of the wedding hall. Alistair was holding the ring, about to put it on my finger. The reset point had jumped forward again. Seraphina stormed onto the stage, tears streaming down her face, a knife pressed to her wrist. “Alistair, are you really going to marry her?” Alistair’s eyes darkened. He reacted instantly, shoving me hard. I crashed into the champagne tower. Shards of crystal embedded themselves into my back. Alcohol seeped into the open wounds. Every breath was agony. But Alistair didn’t even glance at me. He rushed toward Seraphina, grabbing the blade with his bare hand, tears in his eyes. “Angel, don’t do this!” He… was crying? For nine lifetimes, I thought his emotions reset with the world. I endured his cruelty because I thought I could fix him. If the System hadn’t lagged, I never would have known he was faking it all. “The wedding is off,” he announced coldly, holding Seraphina close. I staggered to my feet. “What?” His face twisted into a mask of disgust. “Elara, did you really think drugging me and crawling into my bed like a whore would force me to marry you?” The guests gasped. “Oh my god, she looks so innocent, but she’s trash.” Seraphina sobbed into his chest. “Alistair, when I heard you two that night… I couldn’t take it…” He wiped her tears with infinite gentleness, then turned that gaze onto me like a weapon. “Your cheap tricks make me sick.” He grabbed my wrist and dragged me across the broken glass. “You think I don’t know? Every single time, you…” He stopped himself abruptly. My pupils dilated. I stared at him. “Every single time… what?” Say it. Admit you know everything. But he just released me, letting me tumble down the marble stairs. Blood from my forehead blinded me. He stood above me, looking like a vengeful god. “Stop trying to seduce me. I will always despise a slut like you.” The pain was blinding. Flashes of my nine deaths played like a slideshow. The searing heat of being flayed. The hollow agony of being cut open. The sharp pecking of eagles eating my bones. The System seemed to malfunction, dumping the sensory pain of all nine past lives onto me at once. Meanwhile, he kissed Seraphina, not looking back once. The guests surrounded me, spitting on the floor near my face. “Home-wrecker.” “Deserved it.” Suddenly, a group of hotel security guards rushed out. At his subtle signal, they began to tear at my dress. I heard his whispered command to the head guard: “After you’re done with her, use a champagne bottle to ruin her insides. Make sure she can never carry a bastard child.” Lying in the wreckage, I laughed. “Alistair Vane, you’re a hell of an actor…” He looked back, his eyes cold. “What did you say?” I wiped the blood from my lip. “I said… I hope you two rot in hell together.” Internally, I screamed at the System. “I forfeit the mission.” [Host has forfeited. Extraction from this world will occur in 15 days.] 2 It was a stormy night when the guards finally threw me out the back door of the hotel. My body was broken. Blood wouldn’t stop running down my legs. My heels had snapped, so I walked barefoot on the asphalt. I looked up and saw Alistair’s bodyguard in the shadows, his phone pointed at me. “Don’t block the camera. Mr. Vane wants to watch the livestream.” The bodyguard smirked. I straightened my spine as much as I could and limped to a convenience store. Counting the change in my pocket, I had just enough for a roll of bandages. The cashier looked at my bruised face and sneered. “Aren’t you that desperate girl who drugged Mr. Vane?” I kept my head down. The TV behind the counter was looping the wedding chaos. SHOCKING: Billionaire exposes bride’s drug scandal at altar! The screen cut to a close-up of Seraphina weeping in Alistair’s arms. The cashier turned up the volume. “Look at that necklace on Miss Seraphina. It’s made from the ashes of Alistair’s own finger bone. That’s true love!” Ashes… bone… I took the bandages, my hands shaking. In the fifth loop, he had burned me alive to make “relics.” Phantom pain shot through my skeleton. I ran out into the rain, realizing I had nowhere to go. Alistair had seized all my assets, including my small apartment. The rain intensified. I found a dry spot under an overpass and curled up in a discarded cardboard box. My fever spiked. In the haze, I saw the ghost of my sixth life, bleeding out right here on this pavement. I saw the third life, where homeless men attacked me in this exact spot. Every memory overlapped. Hunger gnawed at my stomach. I stumbled toward a nearby dumpster. I found an unopened sandwich, but before I could grab it, a stray dog lunged, sinking its teeth into my arm. I cried out, but stifled it quickly. The dog let go. The wound was deep. Just then, three men approached. “Are you Elara?” The leader held up a phone. Alistair’s cold voice rang out from the speaker: “Do whatever you want. The money will be wired when you’re done.” “Mr. Vane said we could have some fun,” the man grinned, grabbing my hair. “He said you’re durable.” I struggled. “Get off me!” But I was too weak. A fist to the stomach. A blow to the face. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I curled into a ball, instinctively trying to protect my back—my back that had been flayed in the first life. Ribs cracked. Just as blackness began to take me, sirens wailed in the distance. The thugs scattered, kicking me one last time for good measure. I lay in the mud, letting the rain wash the filth away. At dawn, a street sweeper found me. “Another junkie found in the trash.” Then, hurried footsteps. “Yes, Mr. Vane. We found her.” It was his assistant. I heard Alistair’s voice on the phone. “Is she alive?” I opened one swollen eye. The sweeper whispered, “Is that the girl from the news? The one who tried to off herself?” Silence on the other end, then the sound of glass shattering. “Suicide? Impossible! She…” His voice cut off. She what? She can’t die? I looked at the grey sky and smirked. You think you can still control the narrative, Alistair? Keep dreaming. 3 I woke up shivering uncontrollably. I was locked in a walk-in freezer set to -4°F. My wounds had been bandaged, but the cold made them ache deep in the bone. The room had been set up like a chapel. In the center was a desk made of ice. I trembled, remembering the seventh life. He had bled me dry in a chapel to use my blood as ink. “Copy the Bible. Kneel.” Alistair stood at the door, his voice colder than the air. He remembered everything, yet he conveniently forgot that I had absorbed snake venom for him in a previous timeline—venom that flared up when exposed to cold. “And if I say… I can’t?” He sneered. “I thought you loved kneeling for forgiveness?” I laughed bitterly. “Since I met you, I have never prayed to a god.” That was the last timeline. I had kneeled for eighty-one days to pray for his health. My words seemed to glitch him. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes. “You said it yourself. You’d endure anything for me. Forgotten so soon?” “Kneel for another eighty-one days. Prove you won’t harass Seraphina again.” Seraphina again. In the first timeline, before she died, he didn’t even look at her. He called her a boring, clingy stalker. He publicly declared me the love of his life. But once she died, she became a saint. The cold venom activated. It felt like thousands of ants eating my marrow. The scabs on my knees split open. Blood stained the ice. I passed out.

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My CEO wife watched with cold indifference as I was humiliated for three years. But even a cornered rabbit will bite, and I’m no rabbit. “I’ll beat the hell out of your precious childhood sweetheart every time I see him.” The night I asked for a divorce, she got drunk and kissed me. 1. I was dreaming. A back-alley brawl, a brick raised high in my hand. Suddenly, a searing pain exploded across my face. My eyes snapped open to a startling scene. I was in a conference room, easily over a thousand square feet, filled with more than a dozen people in sharp business suits. They were all staring at me with amusement. Standing before me was a man with slicked-back hair and a smug face, shaking out his hand. Unless I was mistaken, he had just slapped me. Before I could process it, he spoke. “Cole, sleeping in a meeting is one thing, but snoring? Evelyn is speaking. Are you trying to provide background music?” “You son of a…” I was about to let him have it when a flood of memories that weren’t mine slammed into my brain. My name is Cole Evans, husband to Evelyn Stone, the CEO of Stone Industries. We’ve been married for three years, but I’ve never even touched her. I hold a meaningless position at the company, a punching bag for anyone who feels like taking a swing. The man who hit me is Miles, the company’s Vice President and Evelyn’s childhood friend. I touched my cheek. The texture of the skin felt different. The stinging pain, however, was very real. At the head of the table, Evelyn glanced at me, a flicker of a frown on her perfect face, before her eyes returned to the documents in her hand. She was undeniably beautiful. Paired with that icy demeanor, she was the quintessential ice queen. It was no wonder the original Cole had endured three years of misery just to be near her. “Continue,” she said calmly, her voice even. It was as if me getting slapped was of no consequence to her at all. Miles smirked, poking a finger into my chest. “Next time, don’t even bother showing up to embarrass yourself…” His words were cut off by a sharp cry of pain. I had caught his jabbing finger and bent it back. Hard. Everyone in the room froze. The looks of amusement vanished, replaced by something else, something uncertain. Miles doubled over, his face turning a dark shade of purple. “Let go! You son of a bitch, let go of me!” His yelling only made me squeeze harder. I watched the sweat bead on his forehead as I spoke, my voice low and steady. “Mr. Miles, did no one ever teach you to keep your hands to yourself when you talk?” At that moment, Evelyn looked up again, her voice laced with a clear warning. “Cole!” I glanced at her, then applied more pressure. Miles dropped to his knees with a pained gasp. A collective intake of breath echoed through the room. Then I let go. As Miles scrambled to get up, I kicked his shin, sweeping his legs out from under him. 2. He collapsed to the floor in a heap. The conference room fell into a dead silence. Evelyn’s expression finally changed. Those calm, placid eyes were now burning with fury as she stared at me. I met her gaze without flinching. “Evelyn, if you can’t keep your dog on a leash, I’ll do it for you.” Miles was still on the floor, more humiliated than he’d likely ever been in his life. His usually composed face was twisted with rage. He stammered, his lips trembling, “You… you… you…” The other executives finally snapped out of their shock. They looked like they wanted to scold me, as they usually would, but seeing the feral look in my eyes, they all held their tongues. Evelyn threw her pen down on the table. “Cole. Apologize.” How laughable. My cheek was still throbbing, yet my own wife was demanding I apologize to the man who hit me. The original owner of this body must have had the patience of a saint. “Fine,” I said. I crouched down, grabbing the back of Miles’s neck. “Mr. Miles…” THUD. I slammed his forehead into the polished floor. “Sorry if I hit you too hard.” THUD. Another one. “My apologies.” THUD. The third. Three sentences, three solid cracks of his head against the ground. Miles’s eyes looked ready to shoot fire. I leaned in close to his ear. “Touch me again, and a few bumps on the head will be the least of your worries.” I stood up, brushing off my pants and ignoring Evelyn’s murderous glare as I walked out of the conference room. Once outside, I pulled out my phone. The black screen reflected an unfamiliar face. The features were delicate, almost too refined, but the complexion was pale and the eyes were listless. It was the face of a man who had been swallowing his anger for a very long time. More memories flooded in. The original Cole’s parents died young. He was adopted by Evelyn’s grandfather. Three years ago, on his deathbed, the old man forced the two of them to marry. Cole moved into Evelyn’s villa but they always slept in separate rooms. He was given the empty title of “Project Consultant,” a job with no duties other than to endure the entire company’s scorn. The receptionists would sneer at him. The cleaning lady would deliberately splash dirty water on him. And Miles found new ways to torment him almost daily. Through it all, Evelyn was a silent, cold observer. What a pathetic existence. I wondered if the poor bastard was paying for some past-life sins. I started chasing girls at three, ruled the neighborhood streets by five, was peeking into the girls’ locker room by ten, and by eighteen, I was a well-known brawler with a reputation. If it were me, I would have torn this entire company down. I checked my pockets. Nothing but the phone. I saw a few guys smoking on the terrace and walked right over, plucking a cigarette from one of their packs and sticking it in my mouth. 3. The guy was about to curse me out, but one look from me and he scurried away. I took a drag and immediately started coughing. This body was pathetically weak. In the middle of my coughing fit, the group of smokers suddenly scattered. I turned to see Evelyn standing there, her expression as frosty as ever. “When did you learn to fight?” she asked. I took another drag, blowing a smoke ring. “Just now.” “Miles is the Vice President of this company.” I stepped closer, until we were only a foot apart. “And? Does that make his slaps more valuable?” She was silent for a few seconds. “Grandfather said you weren’t to be bullied.” Coming from her, the words were a bitter irony. I smiled and blew a puff of smoke right in her face. Her expression immediately soured. “You…” I cut her off. “So what the hell have you been doing for the past three years? Stress-testing me?” Evelyn didn’t rise to the bait. She waved the smoke away from her face, her eyes falling on my cheek. “There’s a first-aid kit in my office. Go take care of that.” “Don’t need to,” I said, walking past her. “I’ll leave it as a reminder that this isn’t a place for human beings.” “Cole.” I stopped but didn’t turn around. “Don’t cause any more trouble.” I let out a short, sharp laugh and kept walking. “Tell that to Miles. And one more thing—the divorce papers will be on your desk tomorrow. It’s for the best. For both of us.” I didn’t wait to see her reaction. Relief, probably. I skipped the office and went straight to HR to request a resignation form. The young woman at the desk looked at me like she’d seen a ghost, fumbling for what felt like an eternity before pulling a form from the bottom of a drawer. “M-Mr. Evans,” she stammered, “this needs Ms. Stone’s signature…” “Then get her to sign it.” I stuffed the form in my pocket. “Put me down for a personal day. I’m leaving.” As I walked out, the two receptionists, who had been huddled over a phone, snapped to attention and went silent. It seemed my reputation was preceding me. I shot them a grin. One of them fumbled her phone, nearly dropping it. Felt good. The elevator arrived from the underground garage. Inside stood Miles, flanked by two of his yes-men from the project department. The look in Miles’s eyes was murderous. I hesitated for a second, then, instead of leaving, I stepped right into the elevator with them. The doors slid shut, and the air turned to ice. “Cole,” Miles hissed, his voice tight with rage. “This isn’t over.” I watched the floor numbers light up. “Yeah, you’re right about that.” He blinked, then sneered. “You think acting tough for a day changes anything? Evelyn is only tolerating you because of her grandfather. Once that wears off, you’re nothing.” The elevator reached the fifth floor. The doors opened to reveal a few people waiting. They took one look at the scene inside and wisely decided to wait for the next one. The doors closed again. “Mr. Miles,” I said, turning to face him. “Your ‘Star Vista Plaza’ project… the building material quotes are inflated by about thirty percent, wouldn’t you say?” The color drained from his face. “The supplier, ‘Apex Materials,’ is owned by your uncle,” I continued. “Last Wednesday night, you took him to the Gilded Canary club. Two bottles of Lafite, charged to the company’s expense account.” I paused. “Oh, right. There were two girls that night, too. Also part of the ‘entertainment,’ I presume.” The two cronies next to him had gone pale. Miles’s lips trembled. “You… What the hell are you talking about?” The elevator reached the ninth floor. I slammed my hand on the emergency stop button. With a loud groan, the elevator jolted to a halt between floors. “Are you insane?” Miles shrieked, his eyes wide with terror. I didn’t answer. I just drove my foot into his stomach. He grunted, clutching his gut as he crumpled to the floor. His two goons made a move, but I pointed a finger at them. “You move an inch, and the evidence of your kickbacks will be in the ethics committee’s inbox by morning.” They froze. I grabbed a fistful of Miles’s hair, hauling him up from the floor, and drove my knee into his stomach. He gagged, tears and snot streaming down his face. “Listen up,” I whispered, my mouth next to his ear. “I have five copies of all your dirty laundry. If you ever mess with me again, they will find their way to all the right people.” His eyes were wide with terror. I let him go, and he collapsed in a heap. “So from now on, you see me, you walk the other way. You say one more word to me, and I’ll drown you in a septic tank.” I hit the button again, and the elevator resumed its ascent. When the doors opened, a crowd of people was waiting. They all stared, mouths agape, at the scene inside. I straightened my suit, stepped over the whimpering form of Miles, and walked out. It was 9 PM when I got back to the villa. To my surprise, Evelyn was sitting on the sofa, a laptop open in front of her, though she clearly wasn’t working. This was new. In three years of marriage, we had perfected the art of avoiding each other. Me in the guest room, her in the master bedroom, our use of the common areas carefully staggered. This was the first time she had ever waited up for me. I kicked off my shoes and headed for the guest room. “Cole.” She called my name, her voice stopping me in my tracks. I turned. She closed the laptop, her gaze landing on my bruised cheek. “Did you put anything on that?” “Don’t need to. I’ll live.”

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My childhood sweetheart, Jack, accidentally killed someone while trying to save a life and was sentenced to ten years in prison. Before he went in, he begged me to take care of his parents. I thought he entrusted me with this heavy responsibility because he saw me as his future wife, so I tearfully agreed. For ten years, I worked tirelessly, taking care of his parents without complaint. I even sold my blood and a kidney to pay for his mother’s medical bills… all to fulfill my promise to him. It turned out he didn’t accidentally kill anyone; he took the fall for someone else. When he got out, he brought back not only a hundred thousand dollars but also a woman and a ten-year-old child. “Sunny, thank you for taking care of my family these past ten years. Here is a thousand dollars as my gratitude and compensation. In the future, you’ll still be like a sister to me!” Only then did I realize I had misunderstood him. He only asked me to take care of his parents, not to marry him. But all these years, I poured my heart and soul into his family, ruining my health. How could a mere thousand dollars compensate for that? Already exhausted and sickly, I died from spitting blood in a fit of rage. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Jack begged me to take care of his parents. 1 Late Autumn, 1987: I curled up in the leaky woodshed of the Walker family, watching the bloody foam on my palm turn an eerie pink in the halo of the oil lamp. Laughter came from the main house. “That fool Sunny Song really thought she was the Walker family’s daughter-in-law… Little did she know, she spent ten years taking care of my parents for me!” “I told her to help me take care of my parents, and she came running. I never said I liked her or wanted to marry her. She cheapened herself!” “My son is truly capable. With just one sentence, that desperate Sunny Song became our free maid for ten years!” “Fred Song always suppresses me at the factory, but his daughter served my family like a slave. In this life, I, Arthur Walker, am indeed more blessed than him!” “Daddy, Mommy, is Sunny like what people call a slut?” … For ten years, I worked hard without complaint in the Walker family. I never expected to end up like this. “Hehehe…” I laughed low, feeling my life was a joke. In a trance, the kind and doting gazes of my parents and brother and sister-in-law appeared before my eyes. I reached out: “Dad, Mom, Brother, Sister-in-law…” The next second, I felt a sweetness in my throat, and a mouthful of blood sprayed out. The moment I closed my eyes, I secretly swore that if there was a next life, I would never have anything to do with the Walker family again. 1976: “Sunny, my case is going to trial. Although it was accidental manslaughter, it’s still killing someone. The lawyer said I might get ten years.” “We grew up together. You are the person I trust most. Please take care of my parents in the future, okay?” A man’s voice pulled me back from my memories. I looked up and saw Jack Walker sitting opposite me in prison uniform, my eyes wide with shock. Didn’t I die? How come…? The calendar on the wall showed it was July 8, 1976. I… I was reborn!!! Reborn back to the day Jack entrusted his parents to me! In my previous life, because I liked this neighbor brother since childhood, I sympathized with his situation. I thought his entrusting his parents to me at this time was trust, treating me as family. Not only did I agree to his request, but I also waited wholeheartedly for him to come out, marry me, and live a good life together without asking for anything in return. Unexpectedly, he already had a girlfriend. It was none other than my high school classmate, Jessica King. At this moment, Jessica was already pregnant with his child. The compensation he received for taking the fall also went entirely into Jessica’s pocket. She used that money to start a business, riding the wave of reform, and soon became the richest person in their village. In my previous life, when Jack’s mother was sick and times were hardest, I went to her house to borrow money. But she didn’t mention a word about her and Jack, watching me kowtow to every household until my head bled to borrow medical fees for Jack’s mother, Grace Miller. Afterwards, I questioned her. Since she took Jack’s compensation, why didn’t she take out the money when Jack’s mother was sick? Clearly, she was the daughter-in-law of the Walker family. Why did she leave the two elders for me to support? Unexpectedly, she said Jack taking the fall was under a confidentiality agreement and couldn’t be exposed. She didn’t take out the money for Jack’s sake. As for the Walker parents, they knew about Jack’s relationship with her and knew she had given birth to a son for Jack. The reason they didn’t tell me was that they knew my feelings for Jack and were afraid I would be agitated if I knew. All this was for my own good. Looking at the happy family of five in front of me and their hypocritical faces, I couldn’t help but laugh low. “Hehehehe… for my own good?” “Jack Walker, Jessica King, Grace Miller, Arthur Walker! Do you four take me for a fool?” Only then did I realize that the Walker family had long colluded to take advantage of me. Afraid I would be agitated? All fake!!! They just wanted to trick me into serving their family like a slave. Fortunately, God has eyes and let me live again. Opposite me, seeing me dazed, Jack grabbed my hand tightly, his eyes full of hope. Looking at the face of Jack that once fascinated me, I withdrew my hand indifferently. “Jack, this isn’t appropriate, is it?” “Although we are childhood friends and our families are close.” “But I’m still an unmarried girl. I’ll get married sooner or later. I’m afraid I can’t take care of your parents.” “I’m afraid my future in-laws will gossip.” My words made Jack slightly stunned, frowning, a strange expression on his face. “You… you want to get married? But aren’t you…” I played with my braids, asking innocently: “Aren’t I what?” Jack found it hard to speak: “Don’t you have feelings for me…” I realized what he meant and blushed instantly: “Jack, why bring this up?” “Who doesn’t know you’re already with Jessica King from the King family in your village?” “I saw her with a big belly going for a checkup a few days ago. It must be your child, right?” “Her belly is pointed; it must be a boy. Just wait to be a dad!” My words left Jack shocked and uncertain: “You… what did you say? Jessica is pregnant?!” “Why didn’t she tell me?” After saying that, he realized he let it slip, hurriedly covering his mouth, looking at me with apprehension. Seeing him like this, how could I not understand? He deliberately hid the fact that he had a girlfriend to trick me into being a sucker! I immediately said: “It’s okay! Jack.” “I admit I had some thoughts about you before, but I, Sunny Song, am not an unreasonable girl. Since you have a partner, I shouldn’t pester you.” “Don’t worry, I’ll tell Jessica King what you entrusted. From now on, your parents are her responsibility!” “It’s getting late. I’ll go back first. I’ll visit you next time!” Then, ignoring Jack’s anxious face, I got up and left. 2 Leaving the detention center, the bright sun overhead felt warm on my body. Thinking that in my previous life, I worked like a beast for that scumbag Jack for ten years. Although less than thirty, I looked like I was forty or fifty. Because I sold a kidney to treat Jack’s mother, I became disabled, couldn’t do heavy work, and was despised by his mother for eating for free at home, forced to live in the woodshed. Thinking of this made me feel suffocated and angry. The thought that I disappointed my parents and family for such a thing made me ashamed. I immediately bought a ticket home. My parents were dual-income workers, and the family lived in the family compound assigned by the unit. Along the way, ignoring the neighbors’ pointing fingers, I excitedly called out to my parents. “Mom, Dad! I’m back!” As soon as I entered the door, my dad’s shoe flew out, brushing past my ear. “Damn girl, you still have the face to come back?” “Didn’t you die in the Walker family and abandon me and your mom?!” My dad, Fred Song, was a skilled worker at the steel factory. Accustomed to physical work, he was impatient and loud. But since childhood, he loved me, his daughter, the most and never mistreated me. His anger this time was entirely because I ignored the family’s opposition, gave up the job at the cotton mill my family found for me through connections, and insisted on going to the rural Walker family to take care of Jack’s parents. Knowing my dad meant well and was angry, I hurriedly picked up the shoe on the ground and leaned in pitifully. “Dad, don’t be angry.” “It’s because Jack just went in. I was afraid his parents would be sad and something would happen, so I went to help for a few days.” “As soon as this was done, I came back immediately!” My dad, Fred, took a hard puff on his pipe and said coldly: “Don’t think I don’t know, you came back to ask for money and tickets again, right?” “Didn’t I just give you so many food stamps and twenty dollars a few days ago? Spent so quickly?” My dad’s monthly salary at the steel factory was only forty dollars. Twenty dollars was half his monthly salary. But although he was angry at me for subsidizing the Walker family, when I asked for money and tickets, he still took out the family’s rations and gave them to me. My mom, Lily Song, came in with a basket of eggs at this time. Seeing me, her face was full of worry. “Yes, daughter, I know you like that kid Jack.” “But he is a murderer now! Who knows when he will get out after going in.” “You are only eighteen this year. Are you going to delay your youth like this?” In my previous life, whenever my parents mentioned Jack was a murderer, I would get anxious. Saying he accidentally killed someone while acting bravely for a just cause, he was a hero. But now I knew my parents were the ones with foresight. They were really doing it for my own good! I immediately said: “Mom, I just came back from seeing Jack. He said he might be sentenced to ten years!” “Although we are neighbors with the Walker family and grew up together.” “But as the saying goes, help the emergency, not the poor. I can’t take care of his parents for ten years just because he won’t be back for ten years, right?” “So I came back!” As soon as I finished speaking, my sister-in-law Luna Qin’s voice rang out. “Sunny Song, you money-losing goods, you want to help Jack raise the Walker parents for ten years?” “Do you have any shame as a girl?” “What are you to the Walker family? Did Jack save your life in a previous life?” Sister-in-law Luna Qin was an obstetrician at the county hospital, beautiful, fashionable, and a college graduate. In this era, she was a proud daughter of heaven, a perfect match for my brother, a company commander. Originally, my brother had found a job for her in the military hospital, but she wanted to take care of my parents and me nearby, so she didn’t move with the army. The two were separated often, only meeting during holidays, so they hadn’t had children after being married for almost two years. In my previous life, because of inferiority, I felt this sister-in-law looked down on me, suppressing and crowding me out because of her good job and education. Unexpectedly, when I fainted in the field due to wound infection from illegally selling a kidney, it was my sister-in-law who saved me regardless of past grudges and took out the money she and my brother had saved for years to buy a house to pay for my medical bills. Later, due to railway realignment and demolition compensation, the price of the house they originally fancied rose dozens of times. They missed the chance to get rich because of this. Thinking of this, ignoring the disgust on my sister-in-law’s face, I threw myself into her arms. “Sister-in-law, you are right to scold. I was too self-deprecating and shamed our Song family!” “I swear, I will never go to the Walker family to take care of the Walker parents again, nor will I take things or money to their house.” “If I lie, let me… die without a burial place!” 3 Hearing my words, my sister-in-law’s face became a bit unnatural. But soon she darkened her face. “Sunny Song, cut it out!” “You like that Jack so much; I don’t believe you would suddenly change your nature.” “Tell me, is this your delaying tactic? Wanting to appease me and your parents first, then find a chance to make us help the Walker family?” My parents also seemed to think she made sense, looking at me with hesitant eyes. I knew this was because I ignored their persuasion and opposition before, fleeced the family, and insisted on subsidizing the Walker family. They were thoroughly disappointed in me. To not disappoint my family again, I immediately said: “Sister-in-law, Mom, Dad, what I said is true!” “Jack said he only treated me as a sister and didn’t mean to date me!” “He has a girlfriend, Jessica King from the King family in their village! We were classmates in high school!” “Since he has a girlfriend, why should I rush to get involved?” My parents were stunned hearing my words. “What? Jack has a girlfriend? How did you know? You can’t accuse people without reason!” In my previous life, I focused on taking care of the Walker parents, working day and night to support them, with no mind to pay attention to other things. Later Jack came back, bringing Jessica King into the house. I learned that their dating was no secret; many people in the village knew. It was the Walker parents and the King family who greeted everyone, hiding it from me alone. So I pretended to stammer: “I saw them going shopping together.” “Many people in the village know; I’m not lying!” My dad heard this and exploded, knocking his pipe: “If he has a girlfriend, why doesn’t he let her take care of his parents instead of entrusting you?” I shrank my neck aggrievedly, tears swirling in my eyes: “Probably because his girlfriend is pregnant, and he feels sorry that she can’t work…” My mom heard this, face red with anger: “That little bastard Jack, is he human? Feeling sorry his girlfriend is pregnant and can’t work, so he uses my daughter?” “Is my daughter, Lily Song’s daughter, a maid raised for their family?” Then she grabbed my hand: “Let’s go! Let’s go to Ocean Village and reason with the Walker family!” “You took a lot of things from home to take care of those two old people these months. These things were saved from our teeth. Make them return everything!” I naturally intended this too, but I was blinded by lard before, coaxed by the Walker parents, obedient to them. I couldn’t be too obvious now. Just said: “Dad, can we get the money and things back?” “Although I gave them because I didn’t know about Jack and Jessica, it counts as voluntary…” My dad cursed: “What voluntary? You were kept in the dark!” “Back then, when Jack’s dad made a mistake and was fired from the factory, driven back to the countryside, he borrowed a hundred dollars from your mom and me for settling down!” “I thought, since you liked Jack, we would be family in the future, so I didn’t ask them for it!” “Now, that kid wronged you first; why should I care about that?” Sister-in-law said: “Right! Make the Walker family pay back!” “Mom, Dad, Sunny, wait a moment. I’ll call Sunny’s brother and ask him to take a few days off from the army!” “Daring to take advantage of our Song family! Dream on!” My brother’s army base wasn’t far from our county town. Sister-in-law called the army. A few hours later, a military vehicle stopped at the gate of our family compound. I hurriedly went out to welcome: “Brother, you’re back!” Unexpectedly, a stranger got out of the car. The man looked about twenty, tall and straight, with thick eyebrows and big eyes. Wearing a military uniform, he looked very tough and handsome. Seeing me, he looked me up and down, grinned, showing white teeth: “Hello, comrade, you must be Sunny Song?” “I’m your brother Victor Song’s comrade, my name is Logan Brooks.” “Your brother was assigned by superiors to participate in a secret mission.” “Hearing your family encountered difficulties, and I happened to be on official business in the county, he entrusted me to see if you need any help.” Logan Brooks? I was stunned. If I remember correctly, this person is the grandson of the old chief of my brother’s army, a big shot with a boundless future! 4 Originally, I was a bit worried about our family going to someone else’s village to make a scene. Now with Logan Brooks backing us, the chances of winning instantly increased. Not to mention anything else, just parking his military jeep at the village entrance would make the ground of that remote Ocean Village tremble three times? I immediately shook his hand fawningly: “Comrade Logan Brooks, hello!” “I’m Victor Song’s sister, Sunny Song. Since you are my brother’s comrade, I’ll call you Brother Logan?” Logan’s face blushed slightly, then he nodded. “Mn.” With Logan’s help, our whole family went to Ocean Village. As soon as the car arrived at the village entrance, it attracted the onlookers of the villagers. “Look! It’s a car! Seems… like a military car!” “Did county leaders come to inspect? Didn’t hear about it!” “No, look who’s in the car?” “Isn’t that Arthur Walker’s Sunny Song?” … The car stopped at the village entrance. As soon as I got out, a sister-in-law grabbed me. “Sunny Song, why is it you? Is this your brother, the company commander, back?” “Back to your parents’ home to get good things for your future in-laws again?” “Jack is really blessed to have a fiancée like you in his previous life!” Then she looked at Logan beside me. “The whole family is here. Are you here to discuss the wedding?” Hearing this, my face sank immediately! “Don’t talk nonsense. I have nothing to do with Jack!” The sister-in-law was surprised: “Jack just went in, and you moved into the Walker house. Not his future wife? Then what are you after?” “You’ve taken care of Arthur and Grace meticulously in the Walker house for these months. Who believes you have nothing to do with Jack?” She wasn’t wrong. In my previous life, that’s what I thought. But it wasn’t until I vomited blood and died that I knew it was all my wishful thinking! At this time, someone in the crowd muttered: “Yeah, but pity Jack likes Jessica King.” “Sunny Song is just a money-losing goods posting herself upside down!” “I saw Jessica King and Jack drilling into the cornfield several times. Jack even took her to the supply and marketing cooperative to buy things!” Someone next to him quickly pulled him: “Keep your voice down. Uncle Walker and his wife explained that this matter cannot be known by Sunny Song…” Hearing this, my anger rose instantly. In this Ocean Village, not only was the Walker family rotten, but others weren’t good people either! I immediately raised my voice and sneered: “Why am I so good to their family? Of course because I’m beautiful and kind, a good person!” “Back then, when Uncle Walker was working in the steel factory and was neighbors with our family, what’s wrong with me helping when their family was in trouble?” Logan also said on the side: “Comrade Sunny Song is right. How did her helpfulness become posting herself upside down in your mouths?” I looked at Logan in surprise. On the way, he learned the ins and outs of the matter. He actually spoke for me along my lines? I thought soldiers were all rigid like my brother! Seeing me look at him, Logan blinked at me. I didn’t know why my heart skipped a beat, hurriedly lowered my head, feeling my cheeks hot. Logan looked really upright. Although Jack was also good-looking, he had a completely different temperament. How to say… it was the nobility from the bones. My parents heard the villagers discussing me, already fuming with anger. Said to me: “Daughter, don’t waste breath with them! Go to Arthur Walker’s house!” I nodded, mustered up courage, and led the family to the Walker house.

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