Category: English

1 I was the lead surgeon in the nation’s worst medical disaster. In a joint operation, I deliberately botched a procedure, killing five patients on the spot. My wife’s mother was one of them. The medical board stripped my license. The entire world demanded my life for theirs. The victims’ families knelt before the courthouse, their cries echoing in the streets, pleading for my execution. To appease the public fury, the court sentenced me to death by euthanasia. As the Chief Investigator for the Ministry of Health, my own wife, Clara, was tasked with overseeing the sentence. She decided to activate the “Memory Replay,” a new AI technology that could reconstruct the truth of the surgery. But the families’ legal counsel objected. “Is that really necessary? Must we force these families to witness their loved ones die all over again?” he argued, his voice ringing with indignation. “The youngest victim was only eight years old! Just carry out the sentence.” … I lie on a cold surgical table, my limbs shackled. My vocal cords were removed beforehand to prevent any outbursts. The roar of the crowd is my death knell. “The murderer is finally getting what he deserves!” “I’d tear that monster limb from limb if I could!” On the massive LED screen above the judgment platform, my list of “crimes” plays on a loop: Deliberately altered the surgical plan. Intentionally administered incorrect medication. Resulted in the deaths of five patients, shattering five families. My wife, Clara Reed, stands at the center of the platform. She bows deeply to the crowd. “I am so sorry,” she begins, her voice thick with emotion, her eyes red-rimmed. “My husband has committed an unforgivable sin. He didn’t just kill your loved ones… he killed mine, too.” “But I assure you, I will execute this sentence with absolute impartiality.” She holds up a syringe, injecting its contents into a small white mouse. The creature, once skittering with life, goes limp in an instant. Then, she walks toward me. She presses the needle into my arm and pushes the plunger, emptying the rest of the lethal cocktail into my veins. As soon as it’s done, her body sways, and she stumbles backward. Dr. Leo Vance, standing beside her, catches her in his arms. “You did the right thing,” he murmurs, his voice a soft comfort. Leo. My former protégé. And the man who was always the one that got away for Clara. “I just can’t believe Ethan could become this…” Clara whispers, her hand gently squeezing his. She offers him a fragile, grateful smile. “If you hadn’t noticed something was wrong, the consequences could have been even worse.” A wave of sympathy ripples through the crowd. “Dr. Vance is the real victim here! Betrayed by the mentor he trusted most!” “He’s a true hero for exposing Dr. Reed!” “Exactly! If he hadn’t caught it, who knows how many more would have died!” Clara takes a deep, steadying breath. Her gaze sweeps across the auditorium, finally landing on my face. Her brow is knitted, her eyes filled with an undisguised, searing disgust. Suddenly, a chime echoes through the hall. The “Memory Replay” system activates. It is the latest in AI technology, capable of flawlessly reconstructing every detail of a surgical procedure using surveillance footage, medical data, and the memories of those present. The giant screen flickers to life. Unity General Hospital Emergency Room, three winters ago. A twenty-six-year-old version of myself stands before an operating table. I have been on my feet for seventy-two hours straight, having just completed thirteen high-risk heart surgeries. Not a single one had failed. As the final procedure concludes, I pull off my gloves, and my body sways. A spray of blood erupts from my mouth, splattering across the white tiles. Then, I collapse. The auditorium falls into a stunned silence. A moment later, a wave of angry disbelief crashes through the hall. “Seventy-two hours without rest? What a performance!” “He’s a murderer trying to play the martyr! It’s pathetic!” Clara’s face darkens. She orders the technicians to immediately check the memory source for signs of tampering. Leo moves to her side, whispering poison in her ear. “Dr. Reed is more manipulative than we ever imagined. He must have known they’d use the Memory Replay and altered his own memories to make himself look noble.” He adds, “It’s a good thing we proceeded with the sentence.” Clara scoffs, the disgust in her eyes hardening into something unbreakable. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter if he collapsed on the table. It doesn’t matter if he had died right then and there. It wouldn’t absolve him of five murders.” Her expression softens as she turns to Leo. “Thank you for being here with me through all this.” Leo pulls her into a comforting embrace, a flicker of triumph in his eyes. “You never have to thank me.” Watching them, a bitter taste fills my mouth. Her eyes, which once held such tenderness for me, now only hold contempt. Even with my senses fading, a dull, eviscerating pain grinds away at my heart. Leo was the true monster behind this tragedy. But no matter how I tried to explain, Clara refused to believe me. She was the one who signed the order to have my vocal cords removed, silencing me forever. The day before my sentencing, she stood before my cell, her eyes burning with hatred. “Ethan, why did you kill my mother?” I shook my head, frantically trying to sign I didn’t. She didn’t believe me. She took ten sharp needles and drove them under my fingernails, one by one. The agony was blinding. I bit through my lip, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth. “These are the hands that murdered my mother,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face as she stared at my mangled, bleeding fingers. On the screen, the memory shifts. The cherry blossom path of our medical school. A younger Clara, in her crisp police cadet uniform, leans against a tree, waiting for me. I run toward her, my arms full of heavy textbooks, breathless. Like a magician, she pulls a lollipop from her pocket, unwraps it, and holds it to my lips. “Congratulations, Ethan Reed,” she says, her voice bright. “Your first solo surgery in the animal lab was a complete success.” I bite down on the candy, the sweetness dissolving on my tongue, but my heart is still pounding with fear. “My hands were shaking the whole time. I nearly nicked the aorta.” She takes my hand, lacing her fingers through mine. “Don’t be afraid,” she says, her gaze intense. “I know you’re going to be the most famous surgeon in the country one day.” Her eyes sparkle, like they hold captured stars. What man doesn’t want to be worshipped by the woman he loves? A warmth spreads through me. I say nothing, only tightening my grip on her hand. The image freezes. In the present, Clara’s body goes rigid. A complex, unreadable emotion flickers in her eyes. Leo doesn’t miss her hesitation. “He had so much promise back then, didn’t he, Clara?” he says, his voice laced with sorrow. “It’s a shame. In the end, he couldn’t resist the temptations of fame and fortune. People change.” Clara snaps back to the present, her expression turning to ice. “You’re right.” I was a good doctor, I try to mouth, a desperate, silent plea. I was… The scene changes. I am reviewing a special case: an eight-year-old boy, Cody, with a rare congenital heart defect. No other surgeon in the country would take the case. The probability of failure was too high. They were afraid of ruining their reputations. I wasn’t. I remember holding the small boy in my arms. “Don’t worry, Cody. Dr. Reed is going to fix your heart.” He looked up at me with wide, scared eyes. “After the surgery… can I run like the other kids?” I smiled and nodded. “Yes. You absolutely will.” The surgery took sixteen hours. My back was drenched in sweat as I opened his chest, wielded the scalpel, and stitched his tiny heart back together. Every movement was precise, perfect. Finally, Cody’s heart began to beat on its own. I let out a long breath, a deep satisfaction settling over me. In the auditorium, someone whispers, “That’s the eight-year-old boy.” “He saved him… then he killed him.” Leo pounces on the words. “Exactly! He saved the child, which means he knew his condition better than anyone! He must have done it on purpose! The mistake was deliberate!” Murmurs of agreement spread through the crowd, though a few doctors in the audience frown. “But if he saved him before, why would he kill him?” one asks. Leo bites his lip. “Who knows… Money, maybe?” The screen goes black. When it lights up again, we are in the blood-soaked operating room. It was a five-patient domino transplant—five recipients, one donor. A logistical and medical nightmare. One of the recipients was the eight-year-old boy, Cody. The surgical team was comprised of twenty-three people. I was the conductor. Leo was my first chair. In the memory, I stand at the central operating table, my eyes sharp and focused. “All teams, prepare. Begin.” The scalpel glides, blood wells. My movements are a blur of speed and precision. Three hours in, everything is proceeding flawlessly. Suddenly, the monitor above Cody’s table lets out a piercing shriek. “Dr. Reed! Patient on table five is crashing! Blood pressure plummeting, acute rejection!” I spin around. “One milligram of epinephrine, IV push, now!” A nurse slaps a syringe into my hand. I am about to inject it when— “Ah!” Leo, standing right beside me, cries out. He stumbles, slamming his body hard against my arm. The syringe flies from my grasp, shattering on the floor, its precious contents splattering everywhere. “Sorry! I’m so sorry, Dr. Reed! I… I slipped!” he gasps. I have no time for him. I roar for another syringe. But the delay—just a few seconds—is fatal. On the monitor, Cody’s heartbeat flatlines. We fight for thirty minutes, but it’s no use. He’s gone. The first domino had fallen. Cody’s death broke the organ chain. One by one, the other four patients suffer catastrophic complications. One by one, they die before my eyes. Five families, shattered in a single afternoon. I fall to my knees on the cold, hard floor, a deadening roar filling my ears. In the present, the auditorium erupts. “See! It was him! It was his mistake!” “If he had just held on tighter! If he had been faster! They wouldn’t have died!” Leo covers his face, his shoulders slumping. “It’s all my fault,” he chokes out. “If I hadn’t bumped into Dr. Reed…” Clara places a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but her eyes, fixed on my image on the screen, are filled with enough hatred to burn me to ash. “It’s not your fault, Leo. It was his hubris.” She points a trembling finger at my kneeling figure on the screen, her voice like a judge delivering a final verdict. “If he had just done the surgeries one by one, the other four would still be alive! He deserves to die for his vanity.” She spits the words out, each one a nail in my coffin. My heart feels like a crumpled piece of paper, unable to draw a breath. The memory shows the investigation team storming the OR, dragging my hollowed-out form away. I don’t resist. I am a puppet with its strings cut. As they lead me through the hospital lobby, a woman breaks through the security line, screaming. In the chaos, I see the glint of a bottle. She throws its contents at my face. Searing, white-hot pain. The liquid splashes across my body, and a fire ignites in my throat. My mind goes blank. “You demon!” Someone throws the first punch, and then the mob descends—reporters, family members, a frenzy of fists and feet. My hair is pulled, my scalp screaming in agony. My white coat is torn to shreds. “You killed my father! You deserve to die!” a man roars, delivering a vicious kick to my stomach. Pain explodes through my body. I curl into a ball on the floor, convulsing. In the auditorium, Clara watches the screen, her knuckles white. But from the crowd, cheers erupt. “He deserved it! He killed all those people, he should have acid thrown on him!” “Yeah! Serves the bastard right!” The memory on the screen suddenly freezes. The AI’s synthetic voice fills the hall: “Anomalous data stream detected. Initiating deep-level retrieval…”

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The moment I found a long, black hair in my husband’s underwear, I developed the ability to read minds. It happened to be the day my husband’s colleagues were coming over for a party. That’s when I heard her thoughts, loud and clear: [She has no idea. She has no idea her “rich” husband has already slept with me three times.] Next to her, her so-called broke boyfriend was staring at his shoes, thinking: [How am I supposed to tell her I’m the heir to a ten-billion-dollar fortune?] I almost laughed out loud. That cheat I married? I’d paid for everything he owned, from his designer shoes to the roof over his head. How on earth did he pass for rich? Playing it cool, I walked over to the quiet boyfriend and smiled. “We should exchange contact info, don’t you think?” 1 It was 10 a.m. on a Saturday, and my husband Jason’s colleagues were starting to arrive. Last month, I’d pulled some strings and landed Jason a major client. The deal went through, and he got a promotion and a hefty raise. Now, his team from the sales department wanted to celebrate. The party was at my villa. Four men and three women walked in. One woman immediately stood out: Melanie. She was the picture of innocence with her long, straight black hair and an elegant tweed suit. She smiled sweetly and called out a greeting. As I stepped forward to welcome her, her thoughts flooded my mind. [This woman is so plain and dried up. She doesn’t deserve Jason. She probably can’t even imagine that not only have I slept with him three times, but I’m now standing in her house.] I thought of the single black hair I’d found. My hands, hanging at my sides, slowly curled into fists. I looked straight at her. “So, it was you.” Melanie froze for a second. The others looked confused. I saw the guilt flash in Jason’s eyes and quickly pasted on a smile. “My husband told me he had a star employee. So, you’re Melanie. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” The tension in the room immediately eased. Jason ushered everyone inside. A chorus of inner voices assaulted me: [This place must be huge, thousands of square feet. It has to be worth millions.] [His wife is pretty average-looking. How did she get so lucky? She must have saved the world in a past life to land a guy as handsome and rich as Jason.] [I heard Jason comes from a major dynasty. Could he be the son of Jameson Thorne, the city’s biggest tycoon?!] [Too bad he married so young. The rest of the guys in the office are either broke or ugly. Ethan is handsome, but I heard his parents are just laborers.] We had been married for three years, and every single thing Jason wore, I had bought for him. You’d never guess that just a few years ago, he was just some small-town guy with no style. His colleagues were an interesting bunch, judging everything by its surface. But one thought cut through the noise of their shallow praise and condescension: [How am I supposed to tell her I’m the heir to a ten-billion-dollar fortune?] The thought belonged to Ethan, the man sitting quietly next to Melanie. From the jumble of his thoughts, I pieced together the story. He and Melanie had started at the company at the same time. He was hiding his identity as the chairman’s grandson and had started dating her. Melanie, sensing something special about his quiet confidence and good looks, assumed he was secretly from a wealthy family. After they started dating, she constantly tried to pry into his family background. But Ethan had signed an agreement with his grandfather: if he revealed his identity before his trial period was over, he would lose his inheritance. So, whenever she asked, he would either stay silent or change the subject. His evasiveness convinced Melanie that he was just a spineless coward with nothing to his name. The final straw was when he gave her a hand-carved wooden statue for her birthday—something he’d made himself, but which she saw as worthless. She decided to cut her losses and set her sights on Jason, who she believed was the most promising man in the department. 2 I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. Melanie had tossed aside a ten-billion-dollar heir for a fake, a man who was rich only in my bank account. I asked Jason to go pick up the catering we’d ordered. All three women shot up from the couch at once. But Melanie, with a perfectly crafted smile, waved the other two down. “I’m the newest here, and the youngest. You’re all my seniors. Please, let me go.” The other two women exchanged awkward glances and sat back down. [Nice try, you old hags. Did you really think you could compete with me?!] I saw the flicker of triumph on Melanie’s face and turned to Jason. “Honey, why don’t you stay here and chat with your colleagues? Let Melanie handle it.” Just as I expected, Jason found an excuse. “I’ll go with her,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “What if there’s a lot to carry? We can’t let her do it all by herself.” The moment he said that, Ethan stood up to go too, but Jason waved him off. “We’ve got it covered.” Jason’s thought echoed in my head: [What good is a handsome face with no connections? He actually thinks he can steal my woman.] After they left, the other three men cornered Ethan on the balcony off the living room. I quietly followed. The glass door had just slid shut when one of them flicked a cigarette butt onto Ethan’s leather jacket. He jabbed a finger into Ethan’s chest. “Know your place,” he sneered. “Break up with Melanie, or we’ll make your life a living hell.” Ethan wasn’t intimidated. He just frowned. “That’s between her and me. I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” Another one grabbed a coffee mug from a table and threw its contents at him. But Ethan was faster. He dodged, and the dark liquid splashed all over the man standing behind him. Enraged, the man swung a fist at Ethan’s face. It was a mistake. All three of them were no match for him. He dispatched them with a few clean, efficient moves. But in doing so, he had stirred up a hornet’s nest. The commotion drew the attention of the others. Right on cue, Jason and Melanie returned. 3 The balcony was a mess. Before Ethan could say a word, his attackers pointed fingers at him. “What the hell, Ethan? All we said was that we should all pitch in for a gift for Melanie’s birthday next month. Was that any reason to start a fight?!” “Just because she’s your girlfriend doesn’t mean you own her!” They were impressively good at twisting the truth. And conveniently, all three of them had a few fresh scrapes, while Ethan was untouched. Melanie, hearing this, was instantly furious. [What is he so possessive about? Does he think he can afford to buy me a Louis Vuitton or an Hermès? Everyone here is richer than he is!] Her face hardened. “Ethan, we’re all colleagues. You’ve gone too far.” “I didn’t do anything,” he said, his voice cold. He had his pride. Seeing his own girlfriend refuse to believe him, his expression turned icy. Jason clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, man. When you mess up, you have to own it. Don’t be a coward just because your girlfriend is here.” Ethan brushed his hand off. “I said, I didn’t do anything.” “Ethan, how could you start a fight in Jason’s home? Apologize right now!” Melanie demanded, her voice rising. I still didn’t move. I just watched Ethan’s hands clench into tight fists, his knuckles white with rage. After all, a helping hand is most valuable when offered in a moment of true desperation. Only when their accusations reached a fever pitch, with Ethan vehemently denying everything, did I finally step in. “Well, if we really want to know what happened,” I said calmly, “we can just check the security footage.” A wave of panicked thoughts hit me from across the room. [Since when was there a camera on the balcony?] That one was Jason’s. The expressions on their faces mirrored their frantic thoughts. They never expected I’d have a camera out there. I reached into a large potted plant and pulled out a tiny, hidden camera. Everyone stared in shock. A few seconds after the video finished playing, a heavy, awkward silence fell over the room. The men who had been so confidently accusing Ethan were now a blotchy mix of red and pale green. Jason was livid with me. Melanie’s face was completely white. She instinctively reached for Ethan’s sleeve, as she probably always did, but he pulled away. Her expression soured, turning dark and stormy. Ethan’s lips were a thin, straight line. He walked over to me and offered a formal, sincere thank you. For the first time, he really looked at me. [So, his wife is nothing like him. She’s not a two-faced snake.] 4 The three men mumbled their apologies to Ethan. He acted as if he didn’t hear them and turned back to me. “I’m sorry, I accidentally damaged your orchids during the scuffle. I’ll pay for them.” Someone snorted. I heard the collective thoughts of Jason and his friends: [Pay for them? Does he have any idea what those are worth? They’re a rare hybrid. At least a hundred grand for the pair.] Ethan ignored them and scanned a payment code on my phone. A notification chimed. My bank account was suddenly $100,000 richer. Ethan’s thoughts came through again: [If I tell her I got a payday loan, she’ll probably believe it.] I fought to keep my expression neutral. “You shouldn’t take out high-interest loans like that,” I said, playing along. “It’s not safe.” Everyone secretly gloated over Ethan’s supposed desperation, but no one gave it a second thought. Instead, they turned their attention back to praising Jason. “Jason, you’re a lucky man. Your wife is so classy and smart. If my wife’s prize orchids got ruined and someone tried to pay me off with a few bucks, she’d have a fit.” “Exactly. She’s so gracious. You two are a perfect match.” Ethan had had enough and was about to leave. “Are you sure you want to leave Melanie here all by herself?” I asked, stopping him. He was clearly hurt by her lack of trust, but she was still his girlfriend. And in his eyes, leaving her here with these vultures was like leaving a lamb in a wolf den. Seeing that he was staying, Melanie bit her lip. [He’s so shameless. He caused all this trouble and he’s still not leaving? He’s getting in the way of my time with Jason.] Across the room, Jason and Melanie exchanged a look—a quick, charged glance. He licked his lips, his desire almost palpable. Well, if they were that desperate… I was more than happy to help. The party, which was supposed to end in the evening, I dragged out until midnight. I made sure everyone except Melanie and Jason had plenty of red wine. That night, everyone stayed over. I pretended to be drunk. I watched as Melanie slipped into my room, chose the sexiest nightgown from my closet, and crept into the master bedroom. Then, I activated the hidden camera in our room and linked it via Bluetooth to the large projector in the living room. I set a timer for the morning and went to sleep in a guest room, satisfied. The next morning, I woke to a shriek. Everyone was gathered in the living room, staring at the projector screen with wide, horrified eyes. On the screen, a man and a woman. Anyone with half a brain could see what they were doing. Ethan’s fists were clenched, the veins on his neck bulging. His eyes were glued to the screen, burning with a furious fire. Just then, a confused voice came from the stairs. “What are you all looking at?” It was Melanie.

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My mother was a tiger mom, grooming me from birth to be the perfect heiress to her empire. Strict was an understatement. So, when my dad and his mistress showered me with affection and let me do whatever I wanted, I made my choice. When my parents divorced, I chose my dad. My dad used my custody to extort a massive alimony settlement from my mom and lived the high life with my stepmom. My mom warned me not to regret it. I just laughed and said, “How could Stepmom Brenda ever hurt me?” Three years after my mom moved abroad, I was assaulted and murdered by my stepbrother, my body dumped in the wilderness. When I opened my eyes again, my mom was standing there with her lawyer, facing off against my dad and his mistress. Her expression was cold as she asked me: “Lily, do you want to live with Daddy or Mommy?” I scrambled across the floor and clung to my billionaire mom’s leg for dear life… 1 My name is Lily Sterling. Today is the day my parents get divorced. It is also the first day of my second life. “Lily, think about it. If you go with your mom, it’s endless worksheets, private tutors, and extracurriculars you hate.” “She controls who you’re friends with. If you go with her, you’ll just be her puppet for the rest of your life!” “Think about me and Brenda. Have we ever forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do?” “If you live with Dad, you never have to take another piano lesson if you don’t want to.” “You can be friends with whoever you want. Brenda and I will always respect your choices.” My dad, Michael, was pleading with me earnestly. Next to him, my future stepmom, Brenda, watched me with a gentle, loving gaze. In my past life, these were the words that swayed me. I chose to live with my dad and Brenda. My betrayal cost my mom dearly in the divorce. My dad had married into the Sterling family with nothing. Even the money he used to spoil his mistress came from my mom. When she found out about the affair, she wanted him to leave with nothing. But because I chose him, she softened. She couldn’t bear the thought of me living in poverty. So, in the divorce, my dad got a five-thousand-square-foot villa, twenty million dollars in cash, and fifty thousand dollars a month in child support. The thought that my mom’s money had funded the lifestyle of my murderers made me shake with rage. Looking at Brenda’s fake smile and my dad’s triumphant grin, I suddenly laughed. “Dad, what if Mom says you have to give up all the assets and leave with nothing to get custody of me? Would you still want me?” My dad’s face changed instantly. Brenda’s smile froze. “Victoria! Did you tell her to say that?” my dad roared at my mom. “I knew it! You only care about money!” My mom, Victoria Sterling, paused. Then she crossed her arms and said coldly: “That’s right. Didn’t you say you’re the one who truly loves Lily?” “Leave with nothing. Sign the agreement right now, and you can have custody.” Yes! I cheered internally. That’s my mom, the ruthless businesswoman! In this life, I wanted to see if this “loving” father of mine would give up the Sterling fortune for his precious daughter. 2 The negotiations stalled. My dad put on a pained expression and told me Brenda was pregnant. He couldn’t disregard his unborn child’s future just for me. I almost laughed out loud. So, you fought for custody just so you could use my child support to raise your new kid? Dream on! My dad left with his mistress. I happily followed my mom into her Rolls-Royce. As soon as we got in, I hugged her arm and burst into tears. “Mom, I’m sorry!” Back home, seeing all the things my mom had bought just for me, I realized what a blind fool I had been. My dad and stepmom said they loved me, but their house had nothing for me. My mom never said she loved me, but every inch of this house—from my custom slippers to the grand piano—was chosen with me in mind. In this life, I was going to listen to my mom. I was going to study until my brain hurt! I wanted to see how long my dad and Brenda’s “true love” would last without my mom’s money. I guessed right. My dad and Brenda barely had time to sit down in their villa before the lawyers arrived. “Mr. Michael Han, Ms. Victoria Sterling has filed for asset preservation. Please vacate this property immediately!” Brenda was stunned. “You can’t do this! This house is in my name!” The lawyer smiled thinly. “Oh? Did Mr. Han not tell you whose credit card he used to buy it?” My dad came from a poor rural family. He couldn’t even afford college without my grandfather’s sponsorship. Where would he get the money for a villa? My grandfather had liked my dad because he seemed hardworking and honest, unlike the rich playboys my mom usually dated. But wealth corrupts. After marrying my mom, my dad got lazy. He used my mom’s money to buy a house for his parents, and secretly, for his mistress. He bought Brenda a villa, luxury cars, and gave her a five-thousand-dollar monthly allowance. Brenda thought she had snagged a billionaire. She was about to find out he was just a leech. 3 “Brenda, don’t worry. Lily loves me best. If she wants to live with me, Victoria will have to pay up.” “She’ll want her precious daughter to live in luxury. The villa, the cars, the monthly allowance—it’ll all come back.” After comforting his pregnant mistress, my dad snuck into my school to find me. “Lily, have you forgotten how your mom treats you?” “You failed one math test, and she made you do twenty practice exams!” “When you were in the hospital, she had your homework sent over so you could study while on an IV drip.” “She’s a control freak!” “She just wants to turn you into a puppet.” “Do you think I wanted to cheat? I did it for you, to give you a warm, loving home!” “Lily, come live with Dad. Brenda only has a son. She’s always dreamed of having a beautiful daughter like you.” “Live with us, and you can do whatever you want. No one will force you to study ever again.” My dad pleaded with me. I sneered internally. Don’t force me to study so I grow up useless? So when Mom dies and I inherit the company, you can easily manipulate me and take over? Brenda dreams of having a daughter? I wanted to vomit. In my past life, before I died, her son confessed that Brenda knew I was the sole heir. She wanted her son to get me pregnant so he could marry into the fortune. She didn’t want a daughter. She wanted a daughter-in-law she could control. Fearing my dad would try something else, I pretended to hesitate and said I needed to think about it. Then I immediately told my mom. “Good. It seems the Han family is tired of the good life.” My mom made a call to her legal team. The next day, Brenda received a legal letter demanding she return everything. The allowance, the jewelry, the designer bags, even the money spent on their trips to Paris and the Swiss Alps—my mom had the bank records for all of it. It was all marital property. My dad had no right to give it away. Then, all of my dad’s relatives who worked in my mom’s companies were fired. The Han family exploded. 4 My grandparents rushed over from the countryside that night. My grandpa slapped my dad across the face as soon as he saw him. My grandma grabbed Brenda by the hair and started hitting her. “You home-wrecker! You ruined us!” “Mom, stop! Brenda is pregnant! It’s a boy!” “You’re going to have a grandson!” “What?” My grandparents froze. The only thing my grandparents hated about my mom was that she hadn’t given them a grandson. The Sterling family was rich, so why not have more kids? If my mom was too busy running the company, they argued, she could just hand the company over to their son to manage. Any other daughter-in-law would have been beaten for not producing a male heir. But the entire Han family depended on my mom for their lifestyle, so they never dared to say it to her face. Looking at Brenda’s slight bump, my grandma pulled my dad aside. “I heard you get half the assets in a divorce.” “Just divorce Victoria. Even a few hundred million is enough for our grandson.” “Who told you that?” When my dad explained that the Sterling fortune was all pre-marital property and he would get nothing, my grandma nearly fainted. “So what do we do?” “Don’t panic. I’ve thought about it. As long as Lily wants to be with me, Victoria won’t let her suffer. She’ll secretly give Lily money.” “I’m her dad, you’re her grandparents. Lily’s money is our money.” That’s exactly what happened in my last life. Because I cried and begged to be with my dad, my mom gave him twenty million and the villa just so I wouldn’t suffer. But it wasn’t enough. He kept using me to ask for more. When my mom got pancreatic cancer, they tried to set me up with my stepbrother, Jason. They wanted him to marry me to secure the inheritance. But I didn’t like Jason. When their plan failed, they panicked. If I married someone else, they’d lose access to the Sterling money forever. That’s when they came up with the plan to have Jason rape me. They didn’t expect me to fight back so hard that he’d accidentally kill me. In this life, my dad was waiting at the school gate with my grandparents, playing the victim. They told everyone who would listen that my rich, powerful mother was stealing their child. Looking at their hypocritical faces, I sneered internally. Then I put on a hesitant face and asked my dad: “Dad, are you really willing to leave with nothing just to keep me?” My dad paused, a flicker of struggle on his face. But quickly, his eyes filled with determination. “Lily, I love you more than anything!” “I’d give up everything for your happiness.” “Really? That’s great…” I got into the car and told the driver to take me straight to my mom’s office. “Mom, I’ve decided. Let him leave with nothing. I’m willing to go with him.”

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I’m a gold digger. I dated a trust fund baby who cheated on me like it was his job. Every time I caught him, he transferred me $100,000. I wiped away my tears, took the money, and chose forgiveness. After a year of this lucrative relationship, I had built my first pot of gold just by catching him in the act. Until one day, I overheard him giving advice to his friends. “Girls like Chloe are the easiest. Give her enough cash, and she’ll lick your shoes if you ask her to.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, an excuse to break up. But the trust fund baby didn’t take it well. He cried, he screamed, he threatened to off himself. Word got to his older brother—the cold, ruthless CEO of the family empire. The next day, his brother’s Maybach blocked my driveway. “You think you can play my brother? You’re too green.” “But you can play me. I have way more money.” 1 When I caught Julian hooking up with a D-list actress in his car, I was busy trying to clean red wine off my Birkin bag. This bag was his apology gift from last month, when I found him in a hotel room with an Instagram model. It came with a $100,000 “hush money” transfer so I wouldn’t tattle to his strict, unfeeling older brother. But tonight, at this pretentious charity gala, some clumsy socialite spilled Pinot Noir all over it. My heart was bleeding. I had planned to carry it once, let Julian see it, and then sell it on a luxury consignment site for at least thirty grand. Now, with the stain, the resale value just plummeted. Coming to this gala with him was bad luck. “Miss Davis, admiring your spoils of war?” A whistle sounded behind me. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Julian’s entourage of flat, one-dimensional rich jerks. I ignored them. But high-society brats can’t handle being ignored. One of them stepped right in front of me. He tapped his phone and played a voice note he’d just sent to Julian: “Your girlfriend is looking for you.” Julian’s reply came through instantly, loud enough for everyone to hear. His voice was breathy, shaky, clearly distracted. “Don’t worry about it… uh… Chloe is a gold digger, she’s easy… pay her enough and she’ll lick my shoes…” The audio was filled with wet, sticky sounds and heavy breathing. Someone patted my shoulder. “Check the parking garage. Your boy Julian isn’t known for his stamina. He’ll be done soon.” I sighed. More work for me. Everyone looked down on Julian, and honestly, he made it easy. I walked down to the garage. Three minutes later, I found his car. He was already pulling up his pants, panting heavily. I snapped a photo. Even through the tinted window, I could see his flushed face and sweaty hair. The actress looked perfectly fine, though. She was already fixing her makeup, looking bored. I recognized her. She was famous for her elf-like beauty and her zombie-like acting skills. Earlier at the gala, I saw them making eyes at each other. Who knew he couldn’t even wait until the afterparty? I knocked on the window. Julian jumped. His handsome, boyish face contorted in shock. I don’t know why he was surprised. Did someone else unzip his pants for him? “Chloe? What are you doing here?” “Need an explanation?” I waved my phone, showing him the picture I just took. He scrambled out of the car, grabbing my wrist. His palm was clammy. “Chloe, listen to me.” I nodded, pulling my hand away. “I’m listening.” He froze. After a long, awkward silence, he managed to squeak out, “I was drunk.” It took him so long to come up with that excuse that the actress had time to fully dress, touch up her lipstick, and lean against the car, smirking at us. Julian was at a loss for words. He pulled out his phone and started tapping frantically. “Chloe, don’t be mad. I’m transferring you money. Go buy a bag, or jewelry… or go on a trip…” Suddenly, I felt exhausted. I did a quick mental calculation of my bank account balance. Yeah. It was time to be done with this. 2 To be fair, Julian did save me once. When we met, I was working at a car wash. To avoid the sexual harassment from my male coworkers, I started dressing like a potato sack on my second day. I even bought ugly, thick-rimmed glasses. But I didn’t mention… I’m objectively beautiful. And specifically poor. A pretty girl with no money is like a child holding gold in a busy market. You can try to hide, but the predators will always find you. The day Julian showed up, my coworkers had “accidentally” sprayed me with a high-pressure hose. I was soaked. My white t-shirt was transparent under my apron. They were laughing, telling me to just take it off. One of them reached out and pinched my cheek. “So you’re not wearing makeup? Your skin is so white…” I was calculating if my last $400 would cover the bail money if I punched him. That’s when Julian honked. His car had been washed and parked nearby. I don’t know how long he sat there watching. His voice was impatient. “Who washed this? The interior is still damp.” My coworkers pushed me forward. “Sorry, sir! The new girl is an idiot. She’ll fix it.” I shook the water off my arms. I hesitated by his car door, wondering if I should change first so I wouldn’t ruin his Italian leather seats. Julian chuckled softly. He leaned down, close to my face. “You shake off water like a puppy.” I froze, unsure if he was mocking me. Then his smile vanished. He reached into the back seat and handed me a shopping bag. It was a brand-name outfit, tags still on. “Go change. They’re pranking you. It’s mean.” When I didn’t take it, he scratched his head, looking embarrassed. “My ex-girlfriend left it. I haven’t even given it to her yet. Don’t worry, I’m not a creep.” By the time I changed and came back, he was gone. I got his number from the client registry. The next day, I gathered my courage and texted him. I thanked him for speaking up and told him I’d washed and sanitized the clothes if he wanted them back. Originally, I wanted to pay him for them to show I had a backbone. Then I looked up the price of the dress. It cost more than I made in a year. So, returning them was Plan B. Julian replied quickly. He asked to meet at a ridiculously expensive coffee shop near the university. We met a few times after that. I confirmed what I suspected: his family was loaded. Like, “old money, trust fund, never worked a day in his life” loaded. Within a month, he got me a job as a librarian at the university. No creepy coworkers. Just stressed-out students fueled by caffeine. Three months later, we were officially dating. I drove Julian’s new sports car back to the car wash just to be petty. I bossed my old coworkers around. I thought it would feel amazing. And yeah, it did. For a minute. But after the rush of revenge faded, their looks of suspicion and judgment made me feel empty again. I was sitting in someone else’s car, wearing someone else’s wealth like a costume. Was this really what I wanted? 3 Six months into dating, I told Julian I wanted to go to school. My parents were village delinquents who had me out of wedlock. When I was five, they left for the city to find work, taking my baby brother and the family dog. My dad said the city was dangerous, too many cars. So I stayed in the village to “enjoy life.” I grew up feral, eating at neighbors’ houses because I was cute and had a sweet mouth. When I was eighteen, the village matchmaker tried to set me up with the local idiot who drooled for eight hours a day. That night, I packed a bag and ran to the city. Then I met Julian. Julian, who had been in elite private schools since birth, couldn’t understand why anyone would beg to study. Just like he couldn’t understand how eight people lived in my old 100-square-foot dorm room. But I was grateful for his ignorance. Our worlds were so different that I was a novelty to him. He thought my desire for education was “adorable.” He promised that if I passed the IELTS exam, he’d pay for me to study abroad. I was ecstatic. I started self-studying. I had zero foundation, but I was smart and desperate. I memorized vocabulary words while we were on dates. Julian got annoyed watching me struggle with flashcards, so he paid for an intensive, closed-camp IELTS course. Two months. At first, he called me eight times a day. He reported his every move. He whispered sweet nothings that made my nineteen-year-old heart race. I fantasized about our future. I thought, maybe I couldn’t match his wealth, but I could match his education. Once I got my degree, I’d get a good job. I wouldn’t need him to be my safety net. But two weeks in, the calls stopped. He got “busy.” His schedule became vague. Sometimes he said he loved me; sometimes he disappeared for days. When I finally finished the course, he picked me up with a beaming smile. His left ear was pierced with a row of black studs. The holes were red and inflamed. I found out later that during that month, he fell for an edgy girl who loved piercings and tattoos. He punched holes in his body just to get close to her. The girl got annoyed and called me. “Watch your boyfriend. He’s not loyal.” I confronted Julian, crying. It was pathetic, but I couldn’t stop. The fear of being abandoned, of losing my lifeline, overwhelmed me. I thought he was my Prince Charming. He took me to French restaurants where I couldn’t read the menu. Then, seeing my confusion, he drove me to his penthouse and cooked me a simple meal with his own hands. We washed dishes together. In his 5,000-square-foot apartment, I felt… at home. But the dream ended. I realized this wasn’t my home. There was no prince. I broke up with him. I moved out of his penthouse and into a tiny room in a shared apartment. Unexpectedly, Julian begged me to stay. He cried, he knelt, he waited outside the library every day. He sent massive bouquets of flowers to my cramped room. When I ignored him for a month, he started drinking. That’s when his famous older brother found me. 4 “Get back together with Julian.” Sebastian Sterling was a classic rich authoritarian. He loved giving orders. I thought he was insane. “Your brother cheated on me. Who are you to tell me what to do with my relationship?” Sebastian leaned back in his leather chair, looking at a file on his desk. My file. His expression was bored. Like he was watching a toddler throw a tantrum. “My brother is depressed and drinking himself to death because of you. I don’t like that.” “Then teach your brother how to behave.” I stood up to leave. His bodyguards blocked the door. “You want to study abroad, right? Do you have the money?” Sebastian asked coldly. I didn’t. But I could earn it. “I’ll pay for your tuition.” I stared at this man. He was better looking than Julian, but colder. Dangerous. “Just act. Keep him happy. Stop him from acting like a suicidal teenager.” “You’re with him for the money anyway. I’ll give you money. He has a short attention span. No relationship lasts more than a year. When he gets bored, you can leave.” When I didn’t speak, Sebastian added, “Don’t worry. He won’t cling to you forever. I’ll be introducing him to women of appropriate status soon.” “Appropriate status.” Those two words landed on my head like a brick. Sebastian was eight years older than Julian. Their father died young, so Sebastian took over the empire early. He was used to being the patriarch. He knew about me, but he had watched from his high tower, mocking us. To him, this was just his naive little brother playing house with a greedy gold digger. The humiliation stung. I wanted to scream that I wasn’t just in it for the money. Julian had money, but it was his brother’s money. The most he ever spent on me was that IELTS course that led to our breakup. Rich people flaunting their wallets is just low-cost mating behavior. Julian was young, but he knew the game. I straightened my spine and looked Sebastian in the eye. I tried to match his rudeness. Then I forced a smile. A transactional smile. “How much?”

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The very day I found out I was pregnant, I bought the abortion pills. I was just about to swallow them when I heard a voice from deep within my womb. [Mom! Don’t do it! I can make us rich!] [My dad’s a mega-billionaire, and he’s a total sucker for chasing women.] [He always goes for these stubborn, artsy girls who remind him of his ‘one that got away.’ He showers them with gifts, but they always toss them in the trash out of spite. I know where those trash cans are!] I figured I was just losing my mind and moved to pop the pill in my mouth. [Hundreds of grams of gold! The latest iPhone! Jewelry worth millions! And…] I gagged, spitting the pill that was halfway down my throat right into the trash can at my feet. “Where?! Tell me now!” … 1. “Wait a second,” I said, a thought suddenly striking me. “If your dad is a mega-billionaire, why don’t I just go tell him I’m pregnant with his child? Wouldn’t that be easier?” My son’s voice laughed at my naivete. [He’s a mega-billionaire, Mom. You think he’s short on women throwing themselves at him?] [Stop watching those cheesy dramas where the CEO falls for the ordinary girl!] [If you show up now, pregnant, how do you prove it’s his? He could get rid of me with a snap of his fingers! They’d probably brand you a gold-digger, make you disappear quietly. We just need to skim a little off the top and we’ll be set for life. You gotta learn to be content, Mom. The world of the super-rich isn’t as easy as you think.] I nodded vigorously. Maybe my son had lived this life before. This was a new game, and he was giving me the cheat codes. Even if I did manage to get into that world, what’s the point of having money if you’re not alive to spend it? Better to just be alive. “Okay, I’m with you,” I said, rubbing my hands together excitedly, ready to dumpster-dive my way to financial freedom and the life of my dreams. To prove he was for real, my son gave me an address. I pedaled a shared bike for what felt like an eternity, finally rolling up to a trash can outside a mansion on Billionaire’s Row. I lifted the lid, and my eyes lit up. “Wow, even the trash of the rich smells like money,” I muttered. It wasn’t filled with rotting garbage, but mostly pristine gift boxes. I pulled a burlap sack from my coat and started stuffing it. Clang, clunk. I filled two whole sacks, tied them to the bike, and wobbled my way out of the exclusive neighborhood before I could finally hail a cab to drag my haul home. Back home, I couldn’t wait to start unboxing. An Hermès tie, a Parisian suit, a Chanel watch, Dior… After sorting through everything, I realized it was all men’s stuff. “Uh… son,” I hesitated. “Is your dad’s ‘one that got away’… a guy?” He let out a hearty laugh. [Don’t worry, Mom, she’s definitely a girl.] [These are gifts from other businessmen trying to get on my dad’s good side. He just tosses them.] [He’s a mega-billionaire. Stuff you can buy with money is boring to him. A lot of other women try to win him over too, sending him gifts. Every so often, he clears them all out and dumps them by the gate.] [Which means every so often, you get to go on a treasure hunt.] Hearing this, I couldn’t stop grinning. “Son, you’re my little lucky star.” I got everything organized, opened up an online marketplace app, and listed it all at 50% off. Brand new! The prices were a steal, and within twenty minutes, everything was sold. My bank account, which had a pathetic balance of thirty dollars, suddenly jumped to over a million. “Damn,” I whistled. “This luxury stuff is no joke. People are fighting over it even secondhand. The quality is amazing, though.” My son’s voice was smug in my belly. [Of course. We’re talking about my dad. The cheapest gift anyone would dare to send him is worth at least a hundred grand. Sending something cheap would be a huge embarrassment. For these people, saving face is everything.] 2. I packaged everything for shipping. Just in case, I took my son’s advice and used a fake return address. I recorded the whole process to prove everything was authentic, telling the buyers they could have it all verified upon arrival. Once that was done, I walked into a real store and bought the two-thousand-dollar laptop I’d been dreaming of for years. The moment the transaction went through, a wave of validation washed over me like never before. New money, baby! I got home, clutched the laptop to my chest, and just sobbed. “Oh, son, you have no idea how hard it’s been all these years, boo-hoo-hoo… Why couldn’t you have shown up sooner…” I wailed for a good half hour until my son’s voice cut through my tears. [Keep crying and the trash-picking business is closed.] That was not an option! Dumpster diving was my life’s calling now. I wiped my tears and started searching for information on this mega-billionaire online. There was almost nothing. Barely any useful information at all. Made sense, I guess. The truly rich stay hidden. “Son, do you know what your dad looks like? Is he hot?” [No idea. Probably? I mean, you slept with him, don’t you know?] I scratched my head, blushing a little. “Well, I was drunk. I woke up naked with some guy next to me. I was so scared I bolted. I didn’t exactly stick around to check out his face. He had a great body, though, hehe.” [Mom, you’re drooling.] I quickly grabbed a tissue. My mind started to wander. “So, there’s really no chance…?” What if I could become Mrs. Billionaire? A great body usually comes with a handsome face. And I was carrying his kid! That had to give me an edge, right? My son’s next words shattered my fantasy. [Crush that little fantasy right now. Unless you have a death wish.] “Fine,” I sighed, letting go of my short-lived dream of marrying into wealth. I had a million dollars in the bank. Well, nine hundred and ninety-eight thousand after the laptop. It was a sum I couldn’t have even dreamed of before. I stroked my flat stomach, a smile on my face as I scrolled through Amazon. If I saw something I liked, I bought it. Clearing out my shopping cart only cost ten grand. It felt amazing. Life was so good I was almost afraid to sleep, scared I’d wake up and find it was all a dream. I spent the next week in a happy haze of eating and sleeping. Then, after nearly a week of silence, my son spoke up. [Quick! It’s Christmas Eve! Dad’s making his move!] I zipped over to the address he gave me on a shared e-bike, making a mental note to get my driver’s license and buy a car ASAP. Otherwise, how was I supposed to haul my treasures back? The burlap sacks worked for now, but if I ran into someone I knew, it would be hard to explain. A car was safer. I bought a bag of fries and crouched across the street, munching away as I staked out a fancy restaurant. “Damn, a five-star hotel. Even the entrance looks expensive. Is that door made of gold? I kind of want to pry some off.” [Mom, focus.] [Dad’s in there.] [When the girl comes out, follow her. The second she throws it away, you grab it.] I thought for a moment. “Son, what if I just bring a sack and go through all the trash cans on this street? It’s Christmas Eve, there must be a ton of good stuff people are throwing out.” [None of that is worth anything. The gift from my dad is a piece of jewelry worth millions. You could sell it secondhand for a fortune. All that other junk—broken phones, cheap gold—isn’t worth a fraction of this one piece.] It made sense, but something still felt… off. A few minutes later, the girl came out. No man with her. Just like my son said, I followed her from a distance. 3. I watched her toss a small box into a public trash can. The second she was gone, I pounced, digging through the garbage. Just as I pulled the gift box out, another hand shot out and grabbed it. I instinctively clutched it tighter, but he held on. He frowned, trying to wrench it from my grasp. I glared back, holding on for dear life. “Let go! I saw it first, it’s mine!” It was dark, and the street was mostly empty. I’d heard about people who did this on holidays like Christmas Eve, scavenging through trash for valuables. Any other piece of trash I would’ve let go, but this was a necklace worth millions. I grit my teeth, and before he could say anything, I bit down hard on his arm. He yelped in pain and let go. I scrambled away, jumped on my e-bike, and sped off into the night. “Trying to steal from me? Not a chance,” I huffed. “Pretty badass, right, son?” [Yeah, totally badass.] For some reason, he sounded a little distracted. But my attention was quickly drawn to all the couples walking around with flowers and gifts. I’d heard stories of people finding phones and gold on nights like this. Why not give it a try? I pulled on a mask and coaxed my son into telling me which trash cans were likely to have treasure. I found three brand-new iPhones, several rings—diamond, gold, platinum—and one fake one, which I threw back in disgust. “Jerk. Proposing with a fake ring.” I found a bunch of other miscellaneous stuff too. That night, I slept surrounded by my haul, dreaming of riches. The next morning, a knock from the police woke me up. That’s when I finally understood why my son had warned me against picking up the other stuff. I sat at the police station, giving my statement, turning over everything I’d found the night before. I even had to write a thousand-word apology letter, promising to turn in any found items to the police in the future. Everything except the necklace, of course. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I kicked a stray pebble on the sidewalk. Thwack! Pain shot through my foot, and I hopped around, howling. I squatted down, on the verge of tears. “I worked so hard for that! Why? Why did I have to give it all back? Waaah…” For once, my son didn’t tease me. He sounded sympathetic. [Mom, you can’t touch poor people’s money.] [Think about it. If a gift gets thrown away, what does that mean?] I sniffled. “What does it mean?” [It means the girl didn’t want it, but the guy forced it on her. When he finds out it’s gone, he’s going to want it back. And whoever is on the security camera grabbing it is the one who gets in trouble.] [My dad is different. He’s a billionaire. He doesn’t care about the money. He gives away gifts worth millions, and if they get tossed, he doesn’t give it a second thought.] I was still sulking. He continued, [What you lost today was maybe five grand, total. But that necklace you got from my dad? That’s worth over ten million.] I wiped my tears. Confidence restored! Ten million. The first thing I did when I got home was look up the necklace’s original price. When I saw the thirteen-million-dollar price tag, I gasped. I hugged the box and jumped around the room for a solid five minutes. My son’s voice squealed from inside me. [Whoa, Mom, careful! Be careful! Don’t bounce me out of here!] I immediately calmed down. The morning’s unpleasantness at the station vanished. Pure bliss. Mask on, I headed to a luxury consignment shop. 4. They bought it for 80% of its value. After a thorough inspection to confirm it was authentic, we exchanged cash for goods. The first thing I did was walk out and buy myself the new tri-fold phone. So slick, no matter how you folded it. Take my phones, will you? Fine. I’ll just buy a better one myself. Over the next few months, I became a professional treasure hunter, following my son’s tips from one high-end trash can to another. My bank account got upgraded to VIP status. I started wearing clothes made of fine fabrics. I got my driver’s license and bought a cute little Mini Cooper. I signed up for yoga, found some hobbies, and even hired a personal nutritionist to manage my meals and a full-time housekeeper for three grand a month. I bought a small, beautifully furnished villa and moved in immediately. I had officially achieved financial freedom by digging through trash. As my belly grew, so did my son’s excitement. [I’m almost out! I’m so excited!] One day, I was sunbathing on the balcony and a thought struck me. “Son, are you… reincarnated?” [Yeah. In my last life, you heard my voice and rushed to find Dad. He took you in, but life in that family was brutal. He resented you and ignored you completely after I was born. Even with all that money, you couldn’t spend a dime. No one even knew you were his wife. You had no status, no recognition. It was a miserable life. And me? I was the unloved illegitimate child. So this time, we’re staying far away from that world and living our own happy life.] My heart ached for him. I shifted my body to let the sun warm my entire belly. “Okay. Whatever you say, son.” I had plenty of money now. I decided once my son was born and walking, I’d start a side business. This trash-picking gig couldn’t last forever. I couldn’t keep showing up outside someone’s house without eventually getting noticed. What if he got mad and made me give all the money back? But my son told me not to worry. [I didn’t live my last life for nothing, Mom. I learned everything I needed to know. I’ll handle the business side of things. You just relax and enjoy yourself.] Tears of gratitude welled up in my eyes. “You really are my little lucky star.” Despite his words, I couldn’t possibly let a child handle all that work. To make sure he was born healthy, I hired a top obstetrician and followed her exercise and diet plan religiously to control his birth weight. The day of the delivery, we worked together as a team. It was a quick, smooth birth that was over in half an hour. After his first cry, I held him in our private hospital room. He babbled and cooed for a while, but when I didn’t respond, he gave up. I blinked, and it hit me. “Son? I can’t hear your thoughts anymore.” He gurgled and managed to pat his tiny tummy with a clumsy hand. I understood. He was hungry. I immediately mixed a bottle for him. I had given birth to an overachiever. He practiced his motor skills day and night. While other babies were rolling over at three months and crawling at nine, my son was walking confidently at nine months and already starting on preschool material. By the time he went to kindergarten, he had mastered the sixth-grade curriculum. He skipped several grades and, at the age of three, was enrolled in the fifth grade. He was hailed as a child prodigy. One day, I came home from a shopping trip to find a strange man in my house. The man looked uncannily like my son. Alarm bells screamed in my head.

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My desk mate couldn’t afford lunch, so I said: “I’ll treat you!” My desk mate couldn’t afford medicine, so I said: “I’ll buy it for you!” I single-handedly raised him from a skinny little monkey into a strapping, 6’2″ handsome guy. After graduating high school, we went our separate ways. I heard he was found by his billionaire father, while my family fell into ruin. To save up for living expenses, I became a sales associate at a luxury store, and my desk mate became my customer. The tables turned. This time, it was his turn to say: “Pick whatever you want.” Later, he pinned me against the wall, taking off his glasses: “Give me one more thing.” “What?” “You.” 1 My homeroom teacher, Mr. Thompson, had a sudden whim. He decided to let the top 20 students in the class pair up freely with the bottom 20 as desk mates, hoping to achieve academic prosperity for all. Tyler approached me proactively: “Bella, sit with me. I guarantee I’ll teach you everything.” I shook my head, my gaze falling on Liam, who was standing alone at the edge of the crowd. He was first in the class, tenth in the grade. If I was going to pick someone, I naturally wanted the best. “Liam, can I sit with you?” I smiled at him ingratiatingly, but his expression remained bland. “Whatever.” Regardless of the attitude, not refusing was the first step to success. I took the initiative to grab his hand and shake it: “Since you agreed, don’t despise me for being dumb later.” He looked at me in astonishment, withdrew his hand, his face flushing slightly, and turned his head away without speaking. Tyler followed me over at some point, saying indignantly: “Bella, you want to sit with him? He looks like a scholarship student!” Hearing this, Liam lowered his head even more. I retorted: “I’ll sit with whoever I want. Anyway, I won’t sit with you.” 2 Our school was an elite private school. Every year, for charity, they selected some outstanding students from ordinary schools with poor family backgrounds to enroll for free. Although there was no concrete proof, everyone in the class guessed Liam was a scholarship student. Consequently, they were prejudiced against him and unwilling to talk to him. Probably because his clothes were quite plain, and due to malnutrition, he was skinny as a monkey, about the same height as the girls. My dad was a wealthy but uncultured man who admired smart people the most. Influenced by him, I did too. Plus, since I wasn’t smart, I wouldn’t look down on Liam, who was smarter than me. On the first day sitting with Liam, he was very silent. Being a chatterbox, I couldn’t help but try to talk to him during evening self-study. At first, he turned a deaf ear and ignored me. Later, he realized I had stubbornly performed a monologue until the end of the session. “Liam, which way are you going? Maybe we’re going the same way.” He packed his books into his worn-out backpack, frowning at me: “Bella, did you finish your questions?” I froze: “No.” “Can you do the questions seriously tomorrow?” I was delighted. Was he preparing to help me improve my grades starting tomorrow? “Yes!” I vowed. The next evening self-study, I asked him while doing questions: “Liam, do you think the noodles at the first stall in the cafeteria are good?” “I feel like it’s simply pig swill.” He suddenly turned his head, his gaze sharp. “Can you be a bit more serious when doing questions?” I realized then that he found me noisy. So I tactfully shut my mouth. Sigh, failing to improve and affecting others’ studies. I stared at the test paper for a long time and finally focused. Question one… don’t know how to do it. I glanced at Liam several times and pushed the paper over. “Liam…” “What now?” He replied impatiently, not even taking his eyes off his own paper. “Nothing… just don’t know how to do one question. It’s okay, I’ll study it more, won’t disturb you.” I silently pulled back the paper. A few seconds later, he sighed. “Which question?” There’s hope! I pushed the paper back again: “Question one.” He pursed his lips: “Maybe you should study it yourself.” “Oh come on, just help me.” Finally, he softened and compromised. 3 I didn’t see Liam in the cafeteria for several days in a row, thinking he brought his own lunch. Then one day, my stomach felt uncomfortable and I didn’t want to eat, so I slept on the desk. Waking up, I happened to see Liam eating cabbage from a battered tin lunch box. There wasn’t even a speck of meat in the dish. I realized belatedly that he might not even afford the cafeteria, let alone tasted what I called pig swill. From that day on, I also joined the bring-your-own-lunch party. When the nanny was cooking, I nagged beside her: “Auntie, make two portions, put more meat, I’m growing!” At lunch time, I took the lunch box out of my bag, feigning surprise: “Oh, Auntie is really confused, how come she packed me two portions.” “Liam, do you want to eat?” He froze for half a second, then shook his head. “If you don’t eat, I’ll throw it away. Sigh, what a waste.” Holding the lunch box, just as I was about to get up, Liam suddenly stopped me. “Never mind, give it to me. Thanks.” I thought he would open the lunch box and eat with me, but unexpectedly, he stuffed the lunch box into his backpack and ate his own. Did he want to save it for dinner? I was curious but didn’t know how to ask, afraid of hurting him. “I’ll wash the lunch box and bring it back to you tomorrow,” he said. The next day, I repeated yesterday’s operation. Thinking he would accept again, who knew he exposed me directly. “Bella, why are you helping me?” My brain spun: “Not helping you. I want you to teach me, so I’m flattering you. You don’t know how annoying my parents are nagging about grades all day.” “I bring you good food, you teach me. How about an equal exchange?” Seeing him hesitate, I quickly added: “Hey, alright alright, it’s settled. Thanks, desk mate.” 4 After that, I occasionally pulled out things Liam needed from my bag like Doraemon. He always refused, and I always forced them on him. Back and forth, our desk mate relationship warmed up a lot. He started actively helping me check questions and explain them, though he still complained about me talking too much. The monthly exam arrived. After studying during this period, I felt I could break through 50 points in each subject no matter what. But during the exam, I found Liam was different from previous desk mates; he didn’t cover his paper at all. When I poked my head over, he even moved the hand that was accidentally blocking the view. So generous! I copied frantically with tears in my eyes. After the results came out, I had tears in my eyes again. This exam was exceptionally difficult, plus Liam miraculously scored first in the grade. So even though I deliberately wrote some wrong, I still jumped from over 300th to top 50 in the grade. Undoubtedly, parents were called. I stood outside the office listening to my dad arguing with Mr. Thompson inside: “My daughter finally did so well, on what basis do you say she copied? Show the evidence!” “What, the surveillance camera just happened to be broken? That means no evidence. You have to apologize to my daughter, otherwise if it affects her physical and mental development, I won’t let it go!” Mr. Thompson: “Don’t get excited yet. How about we let Bella take the test again?” “Test what test? Testing becomes self-proving. You can’t produce evidence, why should we prove ourselves?” I was ashamed, but dared not admit it as things had escalated to this level. Liam was the math class representative. After delivering papers, he came out and leaned next to me. “Next time, restrain your copying.” I wanted to cry but had no tears: “I won’t dare to copy next time.” “If you don’t copy, it’ll be set in stone.” I suddenly grabbed his arm: “Then teach me, I’ll take the test myself.” He looked troubled: “Might be a bit difficult.” The voices in the office got closer. Mr. Thompson and my dad walked towards us. “Liam, you’re here too. Tell us, did Bella copy off you?” Her voice was loud. Our classroom was right next to the office. I thought all the students must have heard. At this moment, I regretted my impulsive copying during the exam immensely. I could have improved on my own. I didn’t expect Liam to lie for me, so I clenched my fists and waited quietly for the verdict. “I don’t know.” A faint voice sounded from the side. “Don’t know? Can you not know if the person next to you copied your paper? Liam, don’t forget how you got into this school. I advise you not to lie. If found out, you will be expelled.” My heart skipped a beat. The teacher actually blurted out Liam’s status directly. I lowered my head and saw him clenching his hands too. “Don’t know,” he repeated. “You.” Mr. Thompson wanted to say more, but my dad interrupted her. “Don’t make things difficult for the young man. Is it because my wife talked back to you a couple of times at the last parent-teacher meeting, so you’re picking on my daughter now?” I suddenly remembered at the last meeting, Mr. Thompson said that with bad grades, even if the family had money, it would be squandered, resulting in social dregs. My mom wasn’t convinced and retorted a couple of sentences. Guess she held a grudge. Besides, many students copied in the monthly exam, but she only targeted me. My dad left the teacher speechless, and she had to let us return to the classroom first. I was dejected all day, couldn’t even eat. During evening self-study, Liam suddenly leaned close and said: “Bella, do you trust me? I’m very accurate at predicting exam questions.” I turned my head to look at him. His eyelashes cast a shadow on his eyelids under the light, hiding the emotions in his eyes. I sighed: “I trust you, but I don’t trust myself.” He wanted to say something more, but Mr. Thompson’s majestic voice sounded at the door. “Bella, no talking during evening self-study! One bad apple spoils the whole barrel.” Before I could get angry. Liam suddenly spoke: “Teacher, I initiated the conversation with Bella about studies. I’m sorry.” Mr. Thompson rolled her eyes at him, hmphed, and left. After evening self-study, Liam walked out of the classroom with me. He actively asked if I was free on the weekend, saying he could help me with tutoring.

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As the projected top scorer, I took the college entrance exam twice. The first time, I got into Harvard. The second time, I got into Yale. Each time, my score was no less than 700, but neither of these schools dared to admit me once they saw my name. I thought it was because I failed the background check, so the schools were afraid to accept me. But my parents are honest migrant workers. Let alone committing a crime, they don’t even dare to kill a chicken. Until I took the exam for the third time. This time I still scored over 700. I applied to Stanford, thinking this time it was a sure thing. But the admissions officer from Stanford, who came happily to recruit students, was dumbfounded upon seeing my name and immediately declared that Stanford couldn’t accept me. I couldn’t figure it out no matter what. What was wrong with my name? Why did everyone dare not admit me once they saw my name, even though I scored so well? …… 1 “You are this year’s provincial top scorer, Chloe Chen.” “We at Stanford won’t admit you. We can’t accept a student like you!” The admissions officer from Stanford confirmed my household registration information in front of me and finally shook his head. My heart full of joy fell empty, and a sense of helplessness swept over me. I desperately wanted to know the reason and couldn’t help asking him. “Why can’t you admit me? I’m the top scorer!” “Even if I die, let me die knowing why!” Facing my inquiry, the admissions officer just glanced at me lightly. He said: “No school will accept a student like you!” I tried hard to think about the meaning of this sentence. But I racked my brains and couldn’t figure anything out. Devastated, I collapsed on the ground, trembling and crying with my head in my hands. My mind was full of doubts. Why have I been the top scorer three times, yet still no school is willing to admit me? The first time I took the exam, I was the top scorer with 730 points, and I got into Harvard. Just when I was joyfully waiting for the acceptance letter, what came was the news that my application was rejected. I didn’t believe it and called the admissions office to ask. But when the leader heard my name was Chloe Chen, he didn’t investigate further, only saying: “We won’t accept you.” The second time I took the exam after repeating a year, I was the top scorer with 735 points, and I got into Yale. I thought Yale would definitely admit me. But the result was the same; my application was rejected again. When I called to investigate again, the leader of the Yale admissions office was the same as Harvard’s. After hearing my name, they didn’t admit me. 2 I couldn’t figure out why my scores were getting better each time, but Harvard and Yale dared not admit me. At first, I thought there was a problem with the background check, so I specially checked if my parents had committed any crimes. But the result was that our family had been clean for three generations. Moreover, my parents are honest farmers who usually don’t even dare to kill a chicken. I couldn’t find the truth and didn’t believe in bad luck, so I resolutely took the exam for the third time. This time I scored 738 points, still the top scorer. Thinking of the previous two experiences, I didn’t choose to apply to Harvard or Yale, but put Stanford as my choice. With my score, I could easily get into Stanford. When the Stanford admissions officer came to my house, I confidently thought the result was secure this time, and I would definitely be able to go to college. Unfortunately, the admissions officer dealt me a heavy blow. After seeing my name, he immediately declared that Stanford wouldn’t want me. I still wasn’t admitted. After suffering the blow of failing to get in three times, I was in absolute despair. My parents looked at me crying bitterly and shed tears too. “How could this happen?” “My daughter is clearly the top scorer, why wasn’t she admitted?” The old couple couldn’t believe this result either. 3 My mom’s eyes were red, and with a thud, she knelt directly in front of the Stanford admissions officer. She begged cautiously: “Teacher, I beg you, let my daughter go to school. We’ll find a way to give whatever amount of money you need!” The admissions officer ignored her. My mom simply kowtowed directly. She knocked her forehead until the skin broke, reaching out to grab the admissions officer’s pant leg. She cried snot and tears, her voice choked: “Teacher, the child can’t have no school to go to. Her father and I have farmed hard all our lives. Our biggest wish is to cultivate our daughter so she can live a good life and not repeat our mistakes of suffering. I beg you to have mercy!” My dad knelt too. Hunched over, he took out a pack of cigarettes costing one dollar and fifty cents from his pocket, pulled one out, and handed it to the admissions officer. “Teacher, although I’m uneducated, I know my daughter is the top scorer. She must go to school!” “If she doesn’t go to college, the rest of the child’s life will be ruined. I beg you to help!” To support my schooling, my dad could only smoke cheap cigarettes costing one dollar and fifty cents a pack. Watching my parents, who had never bowed their heads, humble themselves to beg others for me, my heart ached in waves. Although our family are farmers, my parents have never been so aggrieved no matter how hard or tired they were. They say a man has gold under his knees, but at this moment my dad knelt to beg for a way out for me. Unfortunately, it was all useless. The admissions officer wasn’t moved in the slightest. 4 He still said the same thing: “Don’t be like this. We won’t accept your Chloe Chen!” My dad thought his sincerity wasn’t enough, pulling his sleeve to wipe the leader’s shoes. He wiped shoes while begging, even kowtowing. Even so, the admissions officer still didn’t relent: “Don’t play these sympathy cards. It’s useless. We won’t accept a student like Chloe Chen no matter what you say.” The admissions officer spoke with certainty. No matter how my parents pleaded, the admissions officer was unwilling to pay attention to us anymore. After the admissions officer left, Stanford rejected my first choice application. I, the person involved, was completely confused. I tried to find the reason in myself. What does “a student like me” mean? What mistake did I make exactly? But in my memory, I didn’t have a single stain. I have been a model student with good character and academic performance since childhood, a student model in the mouths of other parents. Seeing me in such pain, my parents gathered around to comfort me. My dad patted my head. “Chloe, it’s okay. If this school doesn’t want you, we’ll choose another school. There are so many universities in the country, there must be one that wants you!” My mom helped wipe my tears, echoing him. “My Chloe is the top scorer, there will definitely be a school to go to. No matter what, mom and dad will fight for you!” Because I didn’t get into college after three exams, my parents’ hair turned much whiter.

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I had just walked in the door, still buzzing from a fantastic bowl of Pho, when the text from Tiffany Miller landed. “Ms. Allen, I saw you eating beef noodles just now. You seemed very happy.” “But shouldn’t a teacher find joy in teaching? Shouldn’t you be feeling pain when you are away from your students and your classroom?” “I just feel like you were a little too happy.” Reading that, I nearly choked on my own indignation. It was my day off. I went out for a bowl of soup. Was I not allowed to smile? Still, adhering to my principle of minimum engagement with the unreasonable, I simply replied that I would “be more mindful next time.” An hour passed without a response, and I figured I was done with the crazy for the day. Then the main Parent Committee group chat exploded. Ding! Ding! Ding! Tiffany Miller had posted every single photo she had secretly taken of me eating my Pho! There were a dozen pictures, each one deliberately edited with filters that made me look haggard and miserable. Immediately following the photos, Tiffany dropped several sixty-second-long voice notes, one after the other. “Ms. Allen is smiling so brightly away from her students, a complete lack of professional conduct!” “Look how happy she is outside the classroom. This is proof she doesn’t care about our children!” “These young teachers are absolutely appalling! How can we allow someone like this to educate our kids?” “We should report this neglectful teacher to the district office and make sure she faces the consequences!” Her righteousness was so absurd, I couldn’t help but laugh a cynical, sharp little laugh. Fine. I was already sick of being the Homeroom teacher for this mess of a class. Let’s see who is left to handle your son, Jackson, after I’m gone. 1 The notifications were still going insane, the vibrations rattling my head. A few parents who were clearly fed up finally spoke up: “Tiffany, that’s going too far. A teacher is allowed to have a personal life on the weekend.” “Seriously, I thought Ms. Allen was out at some fancy five-star brunch. It was just a bowl of Pho.” Tiffany, however, was immediately enraged by the opposition. “Personal life? She’s a teacher! She should maintain a teacher’s demeanor at all times!” “If a teacher can smile about something that has nothing to do with her students, then her mind isn’t where it needs to be!” “Oh, I see. You’re all just siding with her because she’s a young woman! Is something going on between you and her?” As Tiffany began to veer into outright slander, the dissenting parents quickly shut up. Seeing no further opposition, Tiffany pressed her advantage. “And look at this so-called Ms. Allen you’re all defending!” “I called her at five in the morning last weekend, and she didn’t pick up! She didn’t call me back until eight!” “A role model sleeping in so late! How can a person like that teach our children anything of value?” “My Jax is constantly on his phone, he leaves garbage everywhere, and he doesn’t make his bed! Is this how she’s teaching our kids?” The further the comments spiraled into the ridiculous, the calmer I became. Like mother, like son. Her son, Jackson “Jax” Miller, was famous throughout the district as the little king of chaos. A third-grader who, in one semester, had already chased away five Homeroom teachers. His legendary antics included putting thumbtacks on the supply closet chair, hiding a dead mouse in the Guidance Counselor’s desk drawer, and once, publicly exposing himself and peeing on the classroom floor. I still remember the last Homeroom teacher had a panic attack on the spot and had to be rushed to the emergency room. When the Old Director, Mr. Graham, showed up on my porch with a fruit basket, the white-haired old man was practically on his knees. “Anya, please! You’re a certified Master Teacher! No one else can manage him!” I’d only taken the assignment out of a deep sense of sympathy for the Director and the school. It was a complete dumpster fire, but I was good at putting out fires. Jax was a terror, but he was ultimately just a kid. He was no match for me. In six months, I had him completely under control. When he was quiet, Jax looked like a perfectly normal little boy. Sometimes I would stare at him, trying to figure out what kind of home life could produce such a completely lawless child. Now, watching his mother vent pure, unadulterated poison into the group chat, I finally understood. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and in this case, the tree was rotten to the core. With a parent like this, if Jax had become a functional human being, it would have been a miracle. But seeing as I had spent six months putting Jax on a slightly better path, I knew I had to respond to Tiffany one last time. The phone suddenly vibrated again. It was the new Principal, Kenwood. My brow twitched. I answered the call, and a torrent of unfiltered rage immediately erupted from the speaker. “Anya Allen! What in God’s name are you doing?! Mrs. Miller just called me, screaming! She says you’re insulting parents in the group chat and threatening to quit the class!” I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice even. “Principal, if you look at the chat log, it’s her who is spreading…” “Flies don’t land on sealed jars, Anya!” “You need to understand, in the current educational climate, the parent is the client! If the client is unhappy, you’ve failed!” “Mrs. Miller is a powerhouse on the Parent Committee! You’ve completely alienated her. How are we supposed to conduct enrollment for next year?” “Now, I want you to apologize to Mrs. Miller in the group chat, immediately! And I want a two-thousand-word essay, reflecting on your selfish pursuit of leisure and your failure to prioritize student well-being!” “And, I want a guarantee that you will not leave your apartment after work! And if you must go out, you are to wear a mask so no parent can recognize you!” My head was spinning from the sheer, stunning audacity of his demands. Don’t leave my apartment? Wear a mask? I was a teacher, not a fugitive! No wonder there was a joke online about how people who killed pigs in a past life became teachers in this one. The sheer concentration of absurdity I encountered in a day felt like three lifetimes’ worth. Principal Kenwood was a true piece of work, recently transferred from an administrative role, completely clueless about the reality of classroom teaching. His specialty was ‘service-oriented’ education—where the teacher was the servant. He didn’t want a teacher; he wanted a kneeling servant. Watching Tiffany in the group chat—where she was now threatening to end herself over the perceived injustice—I felt a wave of cold clarity wash over me. I hung up the phone and powered it off. An apology and a self-reflection essay? Absolutely not. I opened my laptop and started typing. Letter of Resignation. If they thought I was a lazy hedonist, then fine. I wasn’t going to serve this mess anymore. The next morning, I walked into the classroom just as the bell was ringing, my printed resignation letter tucked into my bag. My plan was to teach my last class, go out with dignity, and then slam the letter down on Principal Kenwood’s desk. But the moment I stepped over the threshold, my heart nearly stopped. Jax was backed into a corner, holding a heavy-duty drafting compass. He had his post-it-note-wearing classmate, Eliza “Liz” Allen, pinned against the wall, the razor-sharp point of the compass less than a quarter-inch from her eye. “Jackson Miller! Stop! Now!” I threw my bag to the floor and roared, my voice sharp with fury. Jax flinched and slowly, deliberately, lowered the compass. He turned to face me. Something was wrong. Normally, he would have instantly dropped the weapon, cowering in fear. But now, his eyes held none of the usual submission. They were filled with raw, arrogant defiance. “Jax, put that down! Step away from the wall!” I tried to keep my voice even as I walked toward him. He didn’t move. Instead, he jutted his chin out, gathering all his courage to shout back. “Why should I listen to you? My mom told me last night!” “She said you’re a criminal who made a big mistake and you’re going to get reported to the police! You’re scared, and you can’t control me anymore!” “I can do whatever I want!” The classroom was dead silent. I felt a rush of blood pressure so intense I thought I might have a stroke. This was the result of her parenting. I had spent six months of my life, day in and day out, teaching him basic humanity, and his mother had undone it all in a single venomous evening. The teacher’s ingrained sense of duty momentarily overpowered my resignation plans. I lunged forward, ripped the compass from his hand, and dragged him to the front of the room. “Jackson Miller, it seems your mother failed to teach you respect. So, I will teach you one last time.” I was truly, incandescently furious. I stared him down and lectured him for a solid thirty minutes. Under that much pressure, the reckless arrogance his mother had stoked in him completely evaporated. Finally, his mouth crumpled, and he burst into tears. “I’m sorry, Ms. Allen… I won’t ever do it again…” He was sobbing, reaching out to grasp my sleeve and plead for mercy. Seeing the fear, the genuine regret in him, I finally began to relax. It was in that exact moment a shriek tore through the air, so loud it made my ears ring. “You son of a bitch! How dare you lay a hand on my baby?!” A cloud of overpowering perfume and the clack of high heels announced Tiffany Miller’s whirlwind entry into the classroom. She shoved me aside, pulled Jax into a ferocious hug, and pointed an accusing, crimson-taloned finger at my face. “I knew it! I knew you venomous woman were holding a grudge!” “I said a few things in the chat, and you take it out by bullying a defenseless child in front of the class?” “Everyone look! The teacher hit him! She made my son cry!” The classroom instantly descended into chaos. Tiffany’s screeching entirely drowned out the dismissal bell. “Help! Call the police! She’s assaulting a minor! Child abuse!” Her screams drew in people from the surrounding classrooms. Tiffany’s performance art reached a new peak. She sobbed theatrically, raising Jax’s arm like a trophy. “Look! His arm is red! How much force did you use? My son has never even been spoken to harshly! You physically assaulted him?” “I’m going to the District Office! No, the Police! You’re done! You pathetic witch! I’ll see you in prison!” With his mother’s powerful backup, Jax instantly stopped trying to cry, though his face was still wet. He buried himself in her embrace and wailed fakely. “Ms. Allen hurt me! Ms. Allen bullied me!” I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to slap the both of them, and pointed at Liz Allen, who was still trembling by the wall. “Tiffany Miller, please be reasonable! Your son was attempting to stab a classmate’s eye with a drafting compass!” “The point was millimeters from her eyeball! If I hadn’t stopped him, Liz Allen would be in the operating room right now! I was preventing a violent felony! I was saving your son from himself!” “I don’t want to hear it! I don’t want to hear it!” Tiffany exploded, jumping and pointing like a madwoman. “Flies don’t land on sealed jars, Ms. Allen! Why didn’t Jax poke anyone else? Why did he target her?” “That girl is clearly the problem! Look at her, wearing a flower clip in her hair! At her age, she’s already trying to be a little tease! I bet you taught her that!” “My Jax only wanted to play with her! She was being dramatic!” “You’re just trying to twist the narrative and turn the other kids against my baby!” She wiped her eyes, which miraculously turned red on cue, and faced the growing crowd of onlookers. “Kids play rough with school supplies! What danger could there possibly be?” “No, you’re trying to retaliate! You’re getting back at me for what I said in the group chat yesterday!” Several older teachers, known for their gossip and bitterness, started nodding and whispering. “This Ms. Allen, she’s only been here a short time, and she’s already hitting students? Tsk, tsk.” “Exactly. And she’s always so dressed up. Who knows how she even got hired here.” The blood ran cold in my veins at my own colleagues’ cruelty. Just as I was about to defend myself. “Ms. Allen didn’t do anything wrong!” Our class president, Liam, a quiet boy who usually blushed just from speaking, suddenly stood up with a loud thump. “Jax started it! He’s always bullying Liz Allen! Ms. Allen was just protecting her!” “Yeah! Jax is the bad one!” “Jax is always mean! He spit in my water bottle!” With Liam leading the charge, several other timid children found their courage and chimed in to defend me. My throat tightened. I was about to thank them when Tiffany’s voice sliced through the noise, higher and more shrill than ever. “Shut up! All of you, shut up!” She pointed at Liam. “You bunch of wild brats! Do children talk back to adults like that? Who taught you to be so disrespectful? Was it this Anya Allen?” “If anyone else tries to defend this witch, I’ll have my husband run a background check on your parents! Do you want to be blacklisted from every good school in the district?!” The room fell instantly silent. Liam’s face went pale. Even as a child, he understood the gravity of that threat. My heart ached seeing the fear in his eyes. This was the Parent Committee powerhouse? This was the “upper-class” parent? She was threatening a group of minors in front of a crowd of witnesses! “Tiffany Miller, that is completely out of line! Threatening children is despicable!” I rushed forward to shield my students, but Tiffany shoved me back hard. “I should be charging you, witch! You’re the one who taught these dead kids to bully and isolate my Jax, aren’t you?” “I’m going to end you today!” Just as she raised her hand to strike, a furious bellow interrupted her. “What is going on here?! Aren’t you people supposed to be in class?! This is an absolute circus!” The crowd parted. Principal Kenwood, his belly preceding him, strode in with his thermos clutched in his hand. Seeing him, I felt a flicker of relief. “Principal Kenwood, thank God you’re here. Jax’s mother, she…” “Silence!” Principal Kenwood didn’t even look at me. He performed a complete facial contortion, his face instantly wreathed in smarmy smiles as he wrung his hands. “Ah, Mrs. Miller! You’ve been wronged! I heard the commotion and rushed right over! Are you hurt?” Tiffany’s ability to flip was even faster. Her haughty, furious expression instantly dissolved into a pool of tears. She grabbed Kenwood’s sleeve. “Principal Kenwood! You have to help us! If you hadn’t shown up, this woman would have beaten me and my son to death!” “She physically assaulted my son, bruising his arm, and then she incited the entire class to bully and isolate him! She even insulted me publicly! This woman is not fit to be a teacher!” Kenwood wheeled around, glaring at me. It was the third time I had seen this principal’s transformation today. His eyes looked at me like I was a piece of trash. “Anya Allen! Is this what you call a classroom? This is your ‘innovative teaching style’? Having a parent in tears and creating a spectacle for the entire school? You have embarrassed us!” “Principal, Jax was assaulting a student.” My eyes were stinging. I picked up the compass, my hand trembling. “Look at this… every student in this class can testify…” “Enough!” Kenwood slapped the compass out of my hand. “Anya, watch your language! What do you mean ‘assaulting a student’? You’re unfairly labeling a child. Are you truly fit to be an educator?!” “You are here to teach and nurture, not to project your own emotional issues!” Kenwood pointed a finger at my face, a spray of spit hitting my cheek. “Children playing rough is part of nature! Why do you immediately call it abuse? I think your worldview is distorted! You think the worst of children!” He paused for dramatic effect, slamming his thermos onto the desk. “But! For a teacher to physically harm a student, that is a completely different matter! That is corporal punishment! That is a major teaching violation!” “But…” “No buts!” Kenwood gave me no chance to speak, crossing his arms imperiously. “I refuse to listen to your excuses! The fact is, the parent is unsatisfied, the student is harmed, and the school’s reputation is damaged!” Tiffany, seeing her victory, jutted her chin to the ceiling. “Principal Kenwood, I’m a reasonable person. If Anya Allen kneels right now and apologizes to me and my son in front of everyone, we can call this even.” “Otherwise! I will immediately call my husband to contact the District Office, revoke her teaching license, and ensure she is blacklisted from the entire profession! She can beg on the street for all I care!” The mention of the District Office was all it took for Kenwood’s resolve to crumble. “Anya, do you hear that? The parent is being incredibly generous! This is your only chance to redeem yourself!” “Now, immediately! Get down on your knees and apologize to Jax and his mother!” In that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of absurdity, yet also a profound lightness. The half-year of strain, the rope I had tied myself with, finally snapped. “Principal Kenwood, Tiffany Miller.” “Do you two truly believe Jackson is some harmless little angel, and I’m the monster suppressing his ‘natural’ spirit?” “Fine.” I lifted my hand and slapped the resignation letter directly across Kenwood’s face. The crisp smack of paper against skin silenced everyone. “Apologize? I think the two blind fools who should be apologizing are you!” “I quit this job! You can serve yourselves!”

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The twelfth year of liking Ethan Song. To force me to give up, he brought a girlfriend home. My mom wept with joy. “Our Ethan finally blossomed! It’s really double happiness!” He was stunned: “What double happiness?” My mom pointed upstairs. “Your sister got back together with her first love from back then. Look, the two are talking in the bedroom right now.” Ethan Song’s face turned pale instantly. 1 When the knock on the door sounded. I was shouting at Lucas Xu unbearably. “Bro, just got caught in the rain, do you need to shower for so long!” The sound of water stopped. His voice was lazy and tired. “Sarah Song, have some conscience, who did I get soaked for?” “You don’t feel sorry for me at all, can’t I take care of myself more?” I was at a loss for words, chuckled dryly twice. A bit ashamed. Indeed. If I hadn’t insisted on eating the pastries from the shop on South Street. Lucas Xu wouldn’t have been soaked like a drowned rat by the sudden downpour. Slender fingers reached out. I handed the dry clothes in my hand to him. “The T-shirt is your old clothes, the shorts are my dad’s, you should be able to wear them.” “Hurry up and change, my mom is knocking on the door! Time to eat!” Don’t know which sentence pleased him. Lucas Xu’s tail tone rose, humming “Mmh”. Making me get goosebumps from his “Mmh”. My mom probably waited anxiously, knocking again. I trotted over to open the door. “Mom mom mom, coming, going downstairs right away!” But. After the door opened. I silenced immediately. Standing outside wasn’t my mom, it was Ethan Song. He held the door frame. Dark gaze locking me. Scrutinizing every bit of expression on my face carefully. I had a moment of panic. But calmed down immediately. Indeed, haven’t seen for five months. I really didn’t expect. Ethan Song would appear at home at this moment. 2 “Yo, brother-in-law? Long time no see.” Just as I was about to say something, Lucas Xu, who came out of the bathroom, already walked up. He greeted Ethan Song one step ahead of me. Ethan Song’s eyes suddenly stern. Looking straight at the hand Lucas Xu put around me. Ethan Song’s voice was cold: “Let go of her.” Lucas Xu smiled happily, hugging me tighter. “I hug my girlfriend, reasonable and legal.” “What stand do you have to manage?” Ethan Song pursed his lips, expression gloomy. I pulled Lucas Xu. Signaling him to say less. Lucas Xu snorted coldly reluctantly. But next second. After glancing at the T-shirt on me same style as his. Happy again. Whispering to my ear as if no one else was present. “Little liar, lied to me back then saying threw away everything related to me, turns out secretly treasured couple short sleeves.” I stepped on him hard. Lucas Xu pretended to cry pain: “Lighter.” Such intimate appearance, all taken into Ethan Song’s eyes. His expression became more obscure. 3 Actually. Reconciling with Lucas Xu was unexpected for me. Including meeting him, I didn’t expect. That night friend Yao Yao’s birthday. We few corporate slaves decided to splurge, chose the most expensive club in the city to sing. But near off work, I was notified of an urgent task to do. After finishing, almost late. Racing against time to get there. I was led to the wrong private room by the waiter brother. Private room is suite layout. Arriving at the inner room door, I rolled my eyes. Prepared to open door with full strength, scare everyone properly. But didn’t expect! When I pushed the door, someone happened to be opening the door inside. Because I used too much force, inertia leaned forward. Directly collided solidly with the person pulling the door. Haven’t reacted yet. Surroundings suddenly cheered up. Some whistling, some opening champagne. Even more, some spraying streamers. Exactly like a mini wedding scene. Firm and powerful arms supported me, I thanked hurriedly. “Thank you, thank you.” Hearing my voice, he obviously stiffened. I didn’t care, continued pulling streamers on face flusteredly. Finally revealed two eyes. Moment raising eyes, I also stiffened. Everything around, still very noisy. “Hello sister-in-law! Brother Lucas finally introduced you to us today!” “Sister-in-law is really beautiful!” “Eh, why sister-in-law and Brother Lucas stunned?” “……” Lucas Xu’s friends were all very excited. Only he and I, eyes met. Big eyes staring at small eyes, dazed for a long time. What do people do when extremely awkward? Anyway I was about to cry. People around, probably also gradually sensed atmosphere wrong. Gradually stopped noise. My brain running fast. At this time, how to exit, would appear more natural? But biasly, Lucas Xu seemed to see through my thoughts. He stepped back leisurely. Folding arms, smiled. I secretly glanced at him. Sure enough, when Lucas Xu smiles, the mole at eye tail still shakes along. Bewitching and hooking. For a moment, I felt a bit dizzy. Suddenly couldn’t distinguish, if he in front was illusion or reality. Just knew staring at him silly. I remembered that summer. The boy’s collapsed face when roaring at me. I never saw Lucas Xu like that. Never. He used all strength saying to me: Get lost. He said, he never wanted to see me again. He cried, kneeling beside me questioning me, why treat him like that? He said a lot. Also asked many whys. I remained silent throughout. Couldn’t answer a sentence. “I treated you so sincerely, how could you play me like this, how could you?! Sarah Song, speak!” Lucas Xu shed tears. That tear seemed to drip on my heart, burned a scar. 4 Thoughts were pulled back by a light laugh then. I blinked dry eyes. Hurriedly lowered head, dared not raise again. But Lucas Xu refused to let me go. Man’s voice lazy, carrying weariness. “Alright you guys, stop booing, she is not your sister-in-law.” Crowd sighed. Awkwardness of mistaken identity hadn’t had time to spread. Lucas Xu continued: “She is your ex-sister-in-law.” Atmosphere instantly condensed into ice. Don’t know who sneered: “Heh, then which play is this singing? Still think our Brother Lucas wasn’t played miserably enough——” “Ah Qian.” Although Lucas Xu stopped him timely, my face still flushed red suddenly. I love blushing easily, can’t stand people teasing more. Past Lucas Xu knew this point. Always would tell me, with him here, nothing to fear. He always let me be bolder and more confident. He said, who dares make me blush, make me unable to step down. He can hit ten with one punch. But now, the one making me embarrassed, is also him himself. Clenched fist opened, then closed. Repeated like this, I finally raised head, met Lucas Xu’s eyes. Solemnly apologized. “Sorry, I went to wrong private room, really sorry.” Finished speaking, I bowed deeply under his astonished gaze. Turning to leave, but met a bright beautiful face directly. Woman long hair draped over shoulders, gentle and dignified. She smiled at me, then called: “Lucas?” My heart thudded. Stared blankly at Lucas Xu taking woman’s hand. He smiled again, putting away sarcasm just directed at me. Gentle spoke: “Xu Xu, come here, introduce to you, my friends.” Then, he introduced girlfriend to everyone. Gaze fixed on me. Lucas Xu’s face still hung smile. Eye bottom however no temperature, a piece of ice cold. “This is my girlfriend, your, sister-in-law.” I felt my steps, as if suddenly filled with lead. I remembered, the day breaking up with Lucas Xu, my mood crying to choke. Thought originally, future won’t have any day sadder than that day. Seems, spoke too early. But I showed nothing. Even curved eyes to Lucas Xu, said a blessing. “Really match, wish happiness long long.” Words out, atmosphere more solidified. I laughed dryly twice. Also knew said wrong words again. Then can it be worse? Obviously can’t. I hugged bag tight. Silently lowered head. “Apologize again for wrong room, have fun.” Finished speaking, I walked out quickly. But moment stepping out gate. My wrist suddenly grabbed by a strong force. I turned head in panic. Met Lucas Xu’s face, is anger? Or sneering cold laugh? I found. Three years not seen, I already can’t understand this person. “Anything else?” I tensed voice, gaze drifting. Still dare not look at him. A sneer, he leaned close to me. Familiar breath pressed down. Nice voice fell beside ear. Words Lucas Xu said, but like poisonous snake spitting letter. “Nothing, I’m just curious, another three years passed.” “Sarah Song, did you take down your brother?” My face suddenly pale.

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One day, as Lucas drove his Maybach past a traffic light, a driver in the next car suddenly asked him, “Hey, handsome, you’re driving a Maybach now. Is the woman beside you still the same one who suffered with you back then?” Lucas instinctively turned his head. The passenger seat was long devoid of my figure, the woman who had worked hard with him. Instead, a silk scarf belonging to his female secretary lay there. He finally remembered that because he had been flirting with his new female secretary, I had been giving him the silent treatment for over half a month. When Lucas returned home, feeling lost, a divorce agreement sat on the table, and a pregnancy test with two lines lay in the trash can. When he finally found me after much searching, I gave him two choices: “Either you transfer all your assets to my name and give me custody of the child, and I’ll give you one last chance. “Or we divorce right now, split the assets equally, I get an abortion, and we become strangers.” Lucas eventually chose the first option. Because of my hard-to-get game, he gave our marriage a suspended death sentence. What he didn’t know was that I wasn’t afraid of divorce. I just didn’t want the joint marital assets to go to the mistress cheaply. Why should one person plant the tree and another enjoy the shade? Even if we were to divorce, it would be after I squeezed the last drop of value from him… Chapter 1 When Lucas returned home, feeling uneasy, we had been giving each other the silent treatment for over two weeks. This had never happened before. He looked everywhere in the house but couldn’t find me. The noise woke up the nanny, Mrs. Zhang. When Mrs. Zhang came out of her room yawning, she was surprised, “Sir, you finally decided to come back!” Lucas looked at the empty living room, feeling unusually panicked, “Where’s my wife? It’s so late, why isn’t she home?” Mrs. Zhang sighed and said, “The wife moved to the suburban villa a few days ago. She left this for you, and I found this in the trash can.” As she spoke, she pointed to the divorce agreement on the table and took out the pregnancy test with two lines from the drawer. Seeing Lucas frowning in confusion, Mrs. Zhang explained, “The wife is pregnant!” This was our first child in five years of marriage. We had always looked forward to it, but it came at such a bad time. Lucas looked at the two lines, stunned for a long time before his mood calmed down. He had a child; he was going to be a father? Huge joy mixed with a trace of confusion swept over him, making him stagger a couple of steps before standing firm. The next moment, he grabbed the car keys on the table and walked outside. Mrs. Zhang was confused, “Sir, where are you going so late? Aren’t you staying the night?” Lucas shook his head. His mind was filled with my determination to leave him and the baby in my belly. He drove fast through the quiet streets late at night, just to find my whereabouts quickly. But he didn’t know that all this was part of my plan… Chapter 2 After receiving the call from Mrs. Zhang, I, who had already fallen asleep, got up from the bed and put on a very scheming natural-looking makeup. It made my eyebrows and eyes look less sharp, adding a touch of exhaustion and grievance. Who told Lucas to be soft-hearted but hard-headed? When he arrived, I didn’t open the door when he rang the bell. He opened it himself with his key. He was afraid of waking me up and afraid I wasn’t home. He tiptoed upstairs until he saw the figure lying on the bed. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief. Lucas didn’t know whether to wake me up. And if he did, what should he say? He only knew that after half a month, he was finally lying in the same bed with his wife again. He reached out to hug me as if nothing had happened, “Wife, give me a hug!” But what happened happened. I was glad I was rational. I gently pushed him away. I didn’t quarrel with him. I turned on the light, sat up, didn’t turn back, my voice slightly hoarse, “Let’s talk.” Lucas knew he couldn’t dodge this and had to face it. He also sat up and said “Okay” nervously. At this moment, he was even prepared for divorce. Although he just realized that he didn’t want a divorce that much. His wife had a decent job, a decent education, and impeccable looks. Except for not being as young as the new young secretary, she was superior to the new young secretary in every way. More importantly, we finally had a child together, the child he had once looked forward to immensely. I turned to look at him, my eyes red as if I had cried before. The sharp eyebrows and eyes suddenly seemed much softer in front of him. Lucas couldn’t take his eyes off me immediately. He felt I looked just like when we first started dating. Once upon a time, I was also a little girl whose eyes would turn red after a few words of quarrel with people. Rather than the strong woman he was familiar with now. Seeing him recall the past, I knew this step of the plan was successful. I discussed with him calmly, “Because you helped me when I was in my most difficult time and brought me out of the swamp of my original family, I give you two choices. I gave him two choices: “Either you show your sincerity, sign the agreement transferring all assets to my name, and give me custody of the child. Once you cheat again, you leave with nothing. Make me feel you are not so useless, our marriage can continue, I will give birth to our child within the marriage, and I will forgive your mental cheating. “Or we divorce right now, split the assets equally, I get an abortion, and we become strangers. You chase your little secretary, and I’ll go get some male models, raise a young boyfriend, live the good life you want.” Lucas looked at the ultrasound report I handed him and fell into deep thought. The report showed I was six weeks pregnant. The child in my belly looked like a little bean sprout. It might not have feelings yet, nor know its parents might divorce. It was just quietly absorbing nutrients and developing there. Thinking that after the divorce, this child would be taken out by cold forceps and thrown into the trash can, and his wife would get male models and raise a young boyfriend. He suddenly regretted it. He shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have reached this step with me for a little secretary. The price was too high! Chapter 3 But if he signed the agreement transferring all assets to me, wouldn’t his efforts over these years be in vain? He fell into a long silence. Reason told him he should negotiate with me. Not the conditions for divorce, but if we don’t divorce, could he not sign that asset transfer agreement? He was afraid he couldn’t control himself in the end and end up with nothing. Then he spoke, “As long as you forgive me this time, I promise to live well with you in the future. I can give you half of the company shares under my name.” But I wasn’t buying vegetables at the market. I wouldn’t bargain with him. Once I was at a disadvantage in that way, I would lose this round. I shook my head firmly, “You broke my heart. It’s hard for me to believe you will live well with me in the future unless I see the sincerity I want.” But I knew it was useless to push too hard. I patted his shoulder, “I give you three days to consider. When you’ve considered, notify me.” After speaking, ignoring his attempts to keep me, I moved to the guest room. If I cried and begged him to stay, he might not be guilt-ridden and touched. Instead, he would think I was cheap and couldn’t leave him. Instead, my hot and cold attitude would make him unable to forget, unable to let go, unable to figure out! The next morning, I rarely gave myself a break and slept until I woke up naturally. When I went to the living room for breakfast, Lucas was rarely still not at the company so late today. The table was full of various breakfast items I used to like. Obviously, he wanted to talk to me a second time. The divorce negotiation, because I held the chips, turned into a long tug-of-war, really annoying! Chapter 4 Sure enough, after breakfast, he spoke. He knelt on one knee at my feet, gently kissed my hand, trying to move me with gentle words, “Wife, I know I was wrong. I was just impulsive. The person I love is still you. I didn’t go to a hotel with her either. Just forgive me this time!” But it wasn’t like that. I carefully studied male cheating psychology last night. It said that men cheating isn’t impulsive, but a choice made after weighing pros and cons, fully understanding the consequences. Maybe the money earned in recent years made him arrogant, making him think divorce was no big deal, so he let a little secretary dance in front of me. If he went all the way in one direction, set his sights on that woman, divorced me directly for her, and went all the way in one direction, I would respect him as a man. But he wanted both, greedy, wanting both the freshness of the young secretary and reluctant to part with the wife and child at home, then he wasn’t worth my soft-heartedness. I didn’t relent. After wiping the soy sauce stain from my mouth, I leaned back comfortably in the chair, “The conditions are still the same. They say once unfaithful, never use again. I give you one chance, already the utmost benevolence and righteousness. Consider it well!” Lucas saw I was impervious, left the villa without a word, and went to work. After my best friend knew about this, she gave me an idea, “Chloe, why don’t you just divorce him? I’ll find you a young boyfriend later. What’s the point of eating this half-cooked rice?” I laughed at her clumsiness, “Silly, if I give up my seat now, won’t it be cheaper for the vixen outside? “Even if we divorce, it will be after I squeeze the last drop of use value from him!” I thought about it. I’m almost thirty. This child didn’t come easily. I definitely want to keep it. That’s the question of custody. This is my only child, and also his only child. Once divorced, he will definitely fight me for the child’s custody. He has money and background now. I might not win against him. Better dig a pit and make him give it to me willingly. Without wasting a soldier or a pawn, the issue of child custody is solved. After listening, my best friend gave me a thumbs up, “You’re awesome!”

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