Category: English

My father is a yandere with an extreme need for control. He forced my mother, and that’s how I was born. When I was nine, my mother returned with my half-brother from another father. 1 When I was eight years old. I heard a little news about my mother when my uncle got drunk. Uncle said my mother was a great beauty. She was only twenty-two when she gave birth to me. Uncle also said she was a cold and heartless woman. She ran off with another man right after giving birth to me. Dad was furious and used all his power back then to find where my mother went. However, my mother disappeared like water turning into steam. I wanted to ask more questions about my mother. But my uncle passed out drunk. So I went to ask my dad. “Will Mom ever come back?” Dad’s pupils shrank slightly, his voice a bit hoarse. “Practice your piano obediently, and your mom will come back.” 2 Dad urged me to practice piano since I was little. So Mom will come back if I play the piano well? Okay, then I’ll practice every day. So I practiced and practiced. My hands cramped from practicing. Auntie May felt sorry for me and massaged my hands. She also advised me not to practice for so long. I said, “Auntie May, I still have to practice. I want to play for Mom when she comes back.” When I could proficiently play all the rhythms, Mom still hadn’t come back. I thought I still wasn’t practicing well enough. If I could compose a song for Mom, she would definitely be very happy. Ms. Harris, who taught me piano, was getting visibly pregnant. So she stopped coming to teach me. Dad found a new teacher to teach me. I called her Ms. Wu. She was very beautiful and treated me very gently. I heard Ms. Wu say she was also my mother’s classmate. “Ms. Wu, did Mom also like playing the piano?” “Yes, your mother played very well. Do you want to surpass your mother?” I shook my head, “I just want to see Mom.” Ms. Wu was silent. Then she said, “Melody, you can ask your dad to find you another mom.” Is another mom still a mom? No, fairy tales say that’s a stepmother. Stepmothers are usually very bad. I didn’t want a stepmother, so I went to beg Dad not to marry a stepmother. “What nonsense are you talking about?” Dad’s face fell. But for the first time, I was happy because of Dad’s dark face. So Dad won’t marry a stepmother? But I found that Ms. Wu seemed to like Dad very much. Every time Dad came to watch me play the piano, she would secretly look at Dad. Seeing that Ms. Wu treated me reasonably well. “Ms. Wu, Dad said he won’t marry a stepmother. You’d better stop liking Dad.” Ms. Wu laughed angrily at my words. “What do you know?” I know, I just know. Dad likes Mom very much. He often stares at my mother’s photo in a daze. 3 But later I didn’t understand again. Another year passed, and I was nine. Dad brought two people back. A woman and a little boy about three or four years old, sleeping on the woman’s shoulder. At first glance, I recognized her as my mother! Exactly the same as the mother in the photo. Although she looked pale, she was still the most elegant person I had ever seen. I approached Mom happily. She only glanced at me indifferently, holding the little brother tightly in her arms. Then she looked at Dad with hatred. Dad didn’t seem to have the joy of getting Mom back. He locked Mom in the room. I begged Dad not to lock Mom up. But Dad ignored me. So I went to beg Uncle. Uncle said no one could persuade my dad unless my mom was willing to admit her mistake to him. I asked what mistake Mom made. Uncle said that boy was a bastard Mom had outside. I didn’t understand what “bastard” meant, but listening to Uncle’s tone, I knew it definitely wasn’t a good word. Taking advantage of the gap when Auntie May delivered food to Mom, I sneaked into Mom’s room. I hid behind the table. Auntie May left. I peeked at Mom. The little brother was sleeping again. Mom gently stroked his face with her hand. Deep in her eyes was hidden tenderness. At that moment, my eyes felt a little sore. The book says sore eyes could be loss, jealousy, sadness, or joy, envy, memories… I couldn’t distinguish what emotion I was feeling at the time. I only knew I also longed for Mom to treat me like this. I kept hiding behind and watching Mom. And Mom was watching the little brother, not noticing me. I don’t know how long passed before Dad came in too. Mom didn’t care about Dad’s arrival, maintaining her original posture. Dad walked to Mom’s side, his tall body leaned down, then pinched Mom’s chin with his hand, forcing her to look at him. 4 “I’ll give you three more days to consider, otherwise I don’t know what I’ll do.” After speaking, Dad looked at the little brother with cold eyes. “Ethan, you are truly heartless. I won’t let my child leave me!” Mom yelled at Dad. “Chloe, do you think you are fit to call me heartless? Who abandoned Melody and ran away back then? Do you know Melody is also your child?” The air seemed to stand still. My heart beat faster, expecting Mom to say a little bit of caring words for me. Unfortunately, no. “If you hadn’t forced me, I would never have had this child. I didn’t want to give birth to this child at all, especially a child with you!” Mom’s words dashed my last hope. So Mom didn’t want me to be born. So I am a child detested by my mother. No wonder Mom left right after giving birth to me. No wonder Mom didn’t even want to look at me. I couldn’t help hugging my small body and sobbing. There was the sound of pillows being smashed around. “Chloe!” Dad was furious. I didn’t care about crying anymore and looked up at Dad. He was usually such a calm person, but now his veins were bulging, and his eyes emitted a dangerous chill. Mom struggled desperately, “Bastard!” I was scared by the scene of my parents tearing at each other. Dad wouldn’t bite Mom to death, would he? No, I have to save Mom! I stepped forward and pounded on Dad’s leg. “Dad, let go!” I couldn’t say the word “Mom.” Both parents stopped. Then both looked at me with astonishment. Dad frowned and asked me, “Why are you here?”

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My name is Leo Grant. I’m young, successful, and the founder of a decent-sized tech company. People call me Mr. Grant. I hired a new executive assistant, Anna Vance. She’s beautiful, quiet, and a little bit lazy. She clocks in on the dot, clocks out on the dot, and wouldn’t stay a second longer if the building was on fire. A classic nine-to-fiver. The company’s head of sales, Vince Carter, took a liking to her. He started a full-blown campaign of flowers and breakfast deliveries, making sure everyone in the office knew. I know Vince’s type. He’d scrapped his way up from a small town. He was capable, but his ambition had a nasty edge. He was always looking for a ladder to climb. He saw a girl like Anna—pretty and a little spaced-out—as the perfect rung. I was mostly just an observer, occasionally stepping in to rescue Anna from one of his advances. Until the day Vince stormed into my office holding a paternity test, marched over to Anna’s desk in front of everyone, and slammed it down. “Anna! What do you have to say for yourself now? This baby is Leo’s!” I was completely floored. But what I didn’t expect was Anna’s reaction. She just slowly looked up, glanced at the report, and then picked up her phone. “Hello? Mr. Wallace? Yes, it’s me. I’m done playing. Buy out this company… ‘Voyager Tech,’ I think it’s called. I want it done in ten minutes.” And just like that, my entire worldview shattered. 1 My name is Leo Grant. I started my own company, a modest internet firm with about a hundred employees. In my circle, people show me some respect and call me Mr. Grant. Three months ago, I hired a new assistant, Anna. On the day of her interview, she showed up in a simple white shirt and jeans, no makeup. Her résumé was shockingly sparse, listing only her graduation from a state university. When HR handed it to me, they were planning to reject her. “Mr. Grant, she has almost no experience.” I was in the middle of a headache induced by a group of investors and just waved my hand dismissively. “Her. Hire her. She looks… quiet.” And just like that, Anna became my assistant. And she was, indeed, quiet. She appeared at her desk every morning at nine o’clock sharp. Not a minute early, not a minute late. The first thing she’d do was brew a cup of tea. Then, she’d leisurely turn on her computer and start sifting through emails. She was efficient. Every task I gave her was completed perfectly, exactly as requested, but never with an ounce of extra effort. If you asked her to summarize meeting notes, she would never take the initiative to create a supplementary PowerPoint. If you told her to book the conference room for 3 PM, she would never ask if you wanted coffee and pastries arranged beforehand. Zero initiative. The second the clock hit 6 PM, her computer was off before anyone else’s. She’d grab the canvas tote bag that looked like it had seen better years and vanish. Once, at a company team-building event, everyone was singing karaoke until midnight. She was the only one who announced at nine that she was going home to sleep. My head of administration joked, “Mr. Grant, your new assistant is the definition of someone who is just coasting.” I had to agree. She was a young woman with no apparent career ambition, perfectly content with the status quo, probably just looking for a stable job to pass the time. She was beautiful, though. A clean, fresh kind of pretty. Pale skin, bright eyes that always seemed to look at you through a thin veil of mist, creating a sense of distance. Plenty of the young guys in the office were interested, but she treated everyone the same: polite, but remote. Until Vince Carter from the sales department made his move. Vince was our top salesman. He was sharp, a smooth talker, a real go-getter. He’d fought his way out of a small town, had an incredible work ethic, and an even more incredible desire to get ahead. The way he looked at Anna was different. It was the look of a hunter spotting its prey, filled with a cold, calculated certainty. He probably figured that a beautiful girl like her, seemingly without connections and with an air of otherworldly detachment, was the perfect target. Conquering her would satisfy his male ego without any messy complications. And so, what I mentally dubbed the “Office Drone Mating Ritual” began. I just never imagined the script would take such a bizarre turn. 2 Vince’s pursuit began with a bouquet of roses. I walked into the office one morning to find a massive bouquet of red roses on Anna’s desk. The aggressively, almost tackily red kind. Anna hadn’t arrived yet. Colleagues from the surrounding desks were whispering. “Wow, who sent those?” “Has to be Vince. It’s not like he’s subtle.” “That’s gotta be ninety-nine roses, right? He’s really going all out.” I listened and shook my head. This kind of grand gesture might work on a fresh-faced intern, but it felt like he was trying way too hard. At nine o’clock on the dot, Anna arrived. She saw the flowers and paused for a beat, her face a blank canvas. No surprise, no blush, nothing. She stood there for a single second, then walked around the bouquet, sat down in her chair, turned on her computer, and brewed her tea. Her movements were fluid, practiced. It was as if the flowers were just an oddly shaped humidifier. Vince chose that moment to wander over from the sales department, two cups of coffee in hand. He placed them on her desk, his smile blindingly bright. “Morning, Anna. Do you like the flowers? I was passing by a florist this morning, and they just seemed so you.” A smooth line. Not a premeditated purchase, just a spontaneous “passing by” thought. The entire office was craning their necks, watching the show. Anna lifted her eyes and looked at him. “Thank you, but I don’t like roses. I’m allergic to pollen.” Her voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. Vince’s smile froze. “Oh. Allergic? I’m… I’m so sorry, I had no idea.” “It’s fine,” Anna said, taking a sip from her own mug. “Also, I don’t drink coffee. Only tea.” The look on Vince’s face went from awkward to mortified. He just stood there, completely at a loss. Anna, having delivered her statement, went back to her emails, not sparing him another glance. I was watching from my glass-walled office, trying my best not to laugh out loud. This girl was interesting. She wasn’t playing hard to get, nor was she delivering a dramatic rejection. She was… simply stating facts. I don’t like them. I’m allergic. I don’t drink that. There was no emotion, no accusation, but it was more devastating than any angry tirade could ever be. Vince clearly hadn’t anticipated this. He let out a weak chuckle, trying to save face. “Well… what should I do with the flowers, then? It’s a shame to throw them out.” Anna didn’t even look up. “The front desk could probably use them.” The receptionist loved decorating her desk with flowers. Vince’s face cycled through shades of red and white. In the end, he had no choice but to awkwardly scoop up the massive bouquet and, under the stifled laughter of his colleagues, deliver them to the front desk. I thought that would be the end of it. But then, at lunch, Vince reappeared. He carried his tray straight to Anna’s table and sat down opposite her. “Anna, I’m sorry about this morning. I was being pushy. I just think you’re a really great person, and I’d like to be friends.” Anna was in the middle of eating a piece of broccoli. She looked up. “Aren’t we already colleagues?” Another direct hit. Vince was speechless. She was right. Aren’t colleagues a type of friend? What other kind of “friend” was he trying to be? I sat a few tables away, watching Vince’s constipated expression, and thought for the first time that maybe my “coasting” assistant wasn’t really coasting at all. She just couldn’t be bothered to entertain pointless people and their pointless games. 3 Vince’s greatest strength, or perhaps his greatest flaw, was his thick skin and boundless self-confidence. The failure of the rose gambit didn’t deter him in the slightest. He probably interpreted it as a test. A woman’s coyness. So, he doubled down. His offensive escalated from daily breakfast deliveries to afternoon tea, accompanied by a rotating cast of small gifts. Artisanal cupcakes, limited-edition bubble tea, handmade hair clips… they started piling up on the corner of Anna’s desk. Anna’s method of dealing with them was simple. Anything shareable was distributed among the department. Anything that wasn’t, she left untouched until Vince eventually came to collect it himself. She never touched a single item. Thanks to Vince, the entire administrative department’s afternoon snack budget was reduced to zero. They started looking forward to what treat he would bring next. Vince didn’t seem to mind; in fact, he seemed proud. He likely believed this “winning over her friends” approach would show Anna his sincerity and popularity. Once, I overheard him bragging to another colleague in the breakroom. “Girls, you know? They’re shy. They don’t want to accept things in front of everyone. But look, she hasn’t thrown any of my gifts away, right? That means I’ve got a shot.” I was getting water and nearly choked. How did this man’s brain even work? She was giving the stuff away to her coworkers, and he twisted it into “she didn’t throw it away, so there’s hope.” That level of self-delusion was a skill in itself. The moment Vince truly started to get on my nerves was last Friday. That afternoon, Anna got a call from her family about an emergency and needed to leave early. She came to my office to ask for leave, and I approved it. Not long after she left, the heavens opened up in a torrential downpour. I stood by my floor-to-ceiling window, watching the sheets of rain, wondering how she was going to get home. Just then, I saw Vince, holding an umbrella, dash into the storm. He ran to the curb, flagged down a taxi, and then ran back to the entrance of our building, apparently waiting for Anna. About ten minutes later, Anna appeared. She was holding a simple, clear umbrella, walking at her usual unhurried pace. Vince immediately rushed to her, trying to guide her toward the waiting taxi. I couldn’t see their expressions or hear what they were saying, but I could see Anna repeatedly shaking her head, trying to walk around him. Vince was persistent. He even grabbed her arm. Anna stopped walking. She closed her umbrella, letting the downpour soak her completely. Then, she looked up and said something to him. Vince’s expression froze. Then, Anna walked past him, went to the curb herself, and raised her hand. A black Rolls-Royce, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, glided to a silent stop in front of her. A chauffeur in a suit and white gloves got out, respectfully opened the rear door for her, and shielded her head with an enormous black umbrella. Anna got in, and the car pulled away smoothly. Vince was left standing alone in the rain, holding his umbrella, looking like a complete joke. And I, watching from my office on the 28th floor, was just as stunned. I had a feeling my understanding of my assistant was, and always had been, seriously flawed. 4 After the Rolls-Royce incident, whispers started circulating through the office. “Is Anna’s family secretly rich?” “Doesn’t seem like it. Look at her clothes, her bag. It’s all so basic.” “So what was with the car? A rental, probably. You know how some girls are, they’ll do anything to keep up appearances.” Vince was a firm believer in that last theory. Not only did he not back down, but he became even more convinced of his narrative: Anna was putting on an act. She was just an ordinary girl who craved luxury, and that car was a prop she’d rented to reject him. In his mind, he was the hero in a cheesy drama about a poor girl trying to maintain her dignity while a rich suitor tested her with money. And he was the one who could save her from it all. His imagination was truly something to behold. His “heroic rescue” plan was soon set in motion. The company was in the middle of negotiating a major deal with a new client. The head of their company, a Mr. Huang, had a notorious reputation for being a lech. Vince was the lead on this project. On Wednesday afternoon, Vince knocked on my office door. “Mr. Grant, about the dinner with Mr. Huang tonight… I was thinking… would it be possible for Anna to join us?” I frowned. “Why would she go? She’s not in sales.” Vince put on his slimiest smile. “Mr. Huang specifically requested we bring along a pretty assistant to liven things up. You know how these dinners are, having a woman there can help smooth things over. As your assistant, Anna represents the company’s image. She’s the perfect choice.” A wave of disgust washed over me. I would never parade my female employees in front of clients to “liven things up.” “No,” I said flatly. “Find someone else, or go by yourself.” Vince seemed to have expected this. He sighed dramatically. “Mr. Grant, I know you look out for your employees. But this client is crucial for us. If we lose this deal, our next quarter’s numbers will look grim. Don’t worry, I’ll be there. I won’t let anything happen to Anna. I just… I want her to see me in my element, fighting for this company. To show her that a man’s worth is based on his abilities.” That last line revealed his true motive. He wanted to stage a scene for Anna: “Vince Carter, protector of women, fending off a sleazy client.” A pathetic attempt to elevate himself by denigrating others. “My assistant,” I said, my voice turning cold, “does not need to attend these kinds of dinners. Vince, understand your role, and understand the company’s rules.” Vince’s expression flickered, but he eventually nodded and left. I thought that was the end of it. But I had underestimated Vince’s gall. Around 5 PM, Anna came in to drop off some documents. As she set them down, she asked casually, “Mr. Grant, is there a dinner meeting tonight? Mr. Carter told me to get ready and said you would be there too.” My stomach dropped. Vince had dared to use my name. “No,” I said, looking directly into Anna’s eyes. “I never said you should go. From now on, if anyone gives you an order like that, unless it comes directly from my mouth, you ignore it.” Anna just said, “Oh,” and nodded, her face showing no particular emotion. “Understood, Mr. Grant. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be heading out now.” She turned and left. I watched her go, then picked up my phone and sent a text to Vince. “You’re off the project. Hand everything over to the associate director tomorrow.” I tossed my phone aside and rubbed my temples. I was starting to think Vince wasn’t just thick-skinned. He was an idiot. And a stupid, arrogant man is capable of the most destructive things. 5 Being pulled from a major project was a significant blow for Vince. He was subdued for the next two days, avoiding my gaze whenever we passed in the hallway. I thought he had finally learned his lesson. I was, once again, proven wrong. On Friday afternoon, a commotion erupted downstairs. I was in a meeting, and the noise was getting distracting. I asked Anna to go see what was going on. She was gone for two minutes. When she returned, her expression was… odd. “Mr. Grant, Vince… he’s downstairs with heart-shaped candles and a banner. It looks like… he’s proposing to someone.” Every executive in the conference room fell silent, their eyes turning to me. A stampede of a million wild animals thundered through my mind. “To whom?” I asked through gritted teeth. Anna’s gaze flickered away for a second. “The banner has… my name on it.” Pfft— Our CTO, a balding man in his forties, couldn’t hold it in and sprayed a mouthful of water across the table. I could feel my blood pressure skyrocketing. I rushed to the window and looked down. Oh, this was fantastic. In the plaza below our building, a gigantic heart had been formed out of red candles. In the center, in candles, was the name “ANNA.” Vince stood in the middle of the heart, holding an even tackier bouquet of roses than the last one, and was shouting something through a megaphone. A large crowd of onlookers had gathered, all pointing up at our building. In that single moment, he had single-handedly obliterated our company’s professional image. “Get security down there and get rid of him!” I roared at Anna. But Anna was perfectly calm. She glanced at her phone. “Don’t worry, Mr. Grant. The police should be here any minute.” “The police?” I was taken aback. “Yes,” she nodded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Someone is holding an illegal public assembly with open flames, creating a fire hazard and disrupting our business operations. I’ve already called them.” She said it with the same casual tone someone might use to say, “I just ordered takeout.” Once again, a dead silence fell over the conference room. Everyone was staring at Anna as if she’d just grown a second head. Looking at her unfazed expression, I suddenly realized that my previous assessments of her as “quiet” and “coasting” were colossally wrong. This woman’s brain operated on a completely different frequency from normal people. Her problem-solving method was simple, direct, efficient, and… entirely by the book. Sure enough, less than five minutes later, two police cars pulled up, sirens blaring. As the crowd watched in stunned silence, a few officers calmly approached Vince, had a “friendly” chat, and then “escorted” him and his flowers into the back of a squad car. The scene was hilariously anticlimactic. The building’s maintenance crew arrived and efficiently extinguished the giant candle heart with a fire extinguisher. A grand, romantic gesture ended in a spectacular public humiliation. After the commotion died down, Anna returned to my side as if nothing had happened. “Mr. Grant, shall we continue the meeting?” I looked at her, opened my mouth, but no words came out. I waved my hand. “Meeting’s adjourned.” The executives fled the room as if granted a pardon, each of them giving Anna a look of pure awe on their way out. Soon, it was just the two of us. “You’re not…” I chose my words carefully, “…angry?” “Why would I be angry?” she asked, her expression sincere. “If a fly keeps buzzing in your ear, do you get angry at the fly?” “…” “You just find a way to make it stop,” she added. I had no response. Later that afternoon, the police station called and asked the company to send someone to pick Vince up. I sent the head of administration. I heard Vince got off with a verbal warning and a five-hundred-dollar fine for disturbing the peace. It wasn’t a lot of money, but for someone as obsessed with his image as Vince, it was a fate worse than death. He couldn’t show his face at the company again. The next day, his resignation letter was on my desk. I thought that was the end of it. But I had no idea that it was only the beginning. A much crazier, more unhinged act of revenge was already brewing.

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My swollen breasts ached so sharply I couldn’t sleep. Scrolling aimlessly on my phone, I saw a trending post: “My ex has been married for five years, but his paycheck still comes to me.” “He tells his frumpy wife he makes seven grand a month,” the post read. “But he only gives her fifteen hundred for groceries—the other thirty thousand pays my mortgage.” “Doesn’t his wife complain?” someone asked in the comments. “About what? The fool thinks he’s saving for a bigger house. Last month, right after she gave birth, I told him my pipes were clogged and I was scared. He dropped everything—wife, newborn—and rushed over at midnight.” “Some men marry for family,” she concluded, “but the moonlight in his heart will always be his first love.” The poster even shared a photo: the back of a man fixing a kitchen pipe. I recognized him instantly. The shirt he wore was the one I’d saved on groceries for three months to buy my husband, Alex. That night, Alex had claimed an office emergency. Even my mother-in-law had scolded me: “A man’s career matters. Don’t be needy.” So this was his “career”—driving a few miles to fix his ex-wife’s sink. I turned off the screen, a cold smile on my lips. If you’re both so proud of this, I’ll be happy to help. This time, I’ll make sure even that fifteen hundred for groceries becomes a luxury you can’t afford. 1. It was three in the morning. The phone’s cold light cast a ghostly glow on my face in the dark bedroom. I tapped on the photo of the man fixing the pipe, zooming in, then in again. The mole on the back of his neck—I could find it with my eyes closed. It was Alex. My Alex. The loving husband who was always telling me with a long face how business was bad, begging me to be understanding. Wincing from the throbbing pain in my chest, I took my phone to the balcony. The night air was cool, clearing my head with a brutal clarity. I opened the thread again and began taking screenshots of every single reply from the poster, “MidnightMoon.” Each one felt like a slap across my face. “My ex says his wife is super gullible. Believes anything he tells her.” “She was recovering from childbirth and didn’t have enough milk, wanted to buy imported formula. He told her they couldn’t afford it and to drink pig’s feet soup instead. Then he turned around and bought me a twenty-thousand-dollar handbag.” “Haha, come on. Men always want someone young and beautiful, right? The one at home got fat as a pig after the baby. It’s disgusting to even look at her.” I looked down at my own body, changed by pregnancy and breastfeeding, at the stretch marks that snaked across my stomach. So this was it. I had risked my life to give him a child, and in his eyes, I was just… disgusting. Tears threatened to fall, but I forced them back. When I went back to the bedroom, a text from Alex came through. He wouldn’t be home tonight. Work emergency. It was followed by a wire transfer. Fifteen hundred dollars. The memo read: “Honey, this month’s household money. They docked my performance bonus, so this is all I’ve got. I’m so sorry.” I stared at the glaring number, and the last bit of warmth in my heart froze over. This, in his eyes, was the total value of me and our child for an entire month. But for Zoe, it was thirty thousand. And that didn’t even include the bags, the car, and the endless “holiday gifts.” I accepted the transfer and replied with a “hugs” emoji. “It’s okay, honey. I’ll make it work. Just don’t work too hard.” I lay back in bed, but sleep was impossible. For five whole years. I had pinched every penny, never buying new clothes, haggling over dimes at the market. And all along, he was taking the money we were supposedly saving for our child’s future and paying off another woman’s mortgage. I stared at the ceiling, motionless, until the first light of dawn broke through the window. At six, my mother-in-law was already nagging me to get into the kitchen. “Clara, try to make something different for breakfast. Not just oatmeal and pickles again. Mrs. White next door says that’s not a balanced diet.” My hand tightened around the spatula. “Mom, Alex only got paid fifteen hundred this month. He said the company’s not doing well and he might get a pay cut.” “And with the baby, we have to be extra careful with our spending.” Her face fell instantly, but she quickly recovered, putting on her usual long-suffering expression. “Oh, times are tough. Clara, you’re a sensible girl. You have to stretch every dollar. We don’t have much to fall back on.” I nodded obediently. “I know, Mom. I will.” After breakfast, she left, satisfied, to go gossip with the other old ladies downstairs about how filial her son was and how obedient his wife was. I went back to our room and opened my laptop. I searched for the username “MidnightMoon” on every major social media platform. Soon enough, I found matching accounts on Instagram and Twitter. The profile picture was the same: a mirror selfie showing half a face and a long, elegant neck. The Twitter feed was a treasure trove. “Today’s afternoon tea, courtesy of a certain someone.” The picture was of desserts from a five-star hotel. “New battle armor. Can’t wait to wear it for him tonight.” The picture was of a sexy, silk nightgown. “Even though we’re divorced, he still comes whenever I call. It’s true what they say: the one who is truly loved can get away with anything.” I scrolled through post after post, a bitter taste rising in my throat. Using the locations tagged in her posts, I quickly pinpointed where she lived: The Sterling Residences. It was one of the city’s most exclusive high-rises, just three subway stops from Alex’s office. No wonder he was always “working late.” I created a burner account and followed Zoe, beginning my silent surveillance. Just as I was about to close the page, she posted something new. “This is what security feels like.” The picture was of a car key. A Porsche. The background was a pair of hands I knew all too well. Alex’s hands. My eyes locked onto the wedding ring on his finger. It was the one we bought when we got married. It wasn’t expensive, but we’d had a promise of eternal love engraved on the inside. How ironic. I saved the picture, then took off my own ring and threw it into the back of a drawer. Alex, since you’re so generous, I can’t be stingy either. This little gift you’ve given me… I promise I’ll return the favor, with interest. 2. When Alex came home that evening, he looked as exhausted as ever. “Clara, I’m dead. I was in meetings all day, barely had time to eat.” He collapsed onto the sofa, waiting for me to serve him. I brought him a glass of water and sat down beside him. “Honey, the baby’s one-month milestone is coming up. I was thinking we should get him a life insurance policy.” Alex’s brow furrowed. “Insurance? Doesn’t he have basic health coverage? We don’t have extra money for that right now.” I had expected this. “It won’t cost us anything now. My friend from college works at an insurance company, and they have a promotion. If we register our information, we can get a free accident policy for him. It’s completely free.” The word “free” smoothed the wrinkles from his forehead. “Oh. Well, in that case, fine. What do they need?” “Photos of the front and back of your ID, and your bank card number, just for registration.” Without a hint of suspicion, he pulled his ID and his debit card—the one his salary was paid into—from his wallet. “Hurry up and take the pictures. I need to go shower.” He tossed them on the coffee table and went into the bathroom with his phone. The moment the water started running, I snatched the cards and took photos. Then, I opened the official tax portal app on my phone. I used his ID number and phone number to attempt a login. It required a verification code. I walked to the bathroom door and knocked lightly. “Honey, the insurance company just sent a verification code to confirm your identity. Did your phone buzz?” His annoyed voice came from inside. “It’s in my pants pocket. Just grab it and look, but don’t go snooping.” “Got it.” I pulled his phone from his pants, which were hanging on the back of the door. I entered the code. Login successful. My finger swiped across the screen, tapping on “Income and Tax Details.” I had prepared myself, but when I saw the number, my heart still skipped a beat. Monthly Income: $20,000. Annual Bonus: $100,000. And that wasn’t including his other allowances or retirement contributions. His take-home pay alone was over half a million a year. And for five years, the amount he brought home was a steadfast, unchanging fifteen hundred dollars a month. Where did the rest go? The answer was painfully obvious. My hands were ice-cold. I quickly took screenshots, saving his income details for every single year, sent them to myself, and then deleted the chat history. After all that, I put the phone back in his pocket. The shower was still running. I stared at the dense columns of numbers on my phone, and the hatred in my eyes felt like it could burn a hole through the screen. Half a million a year. That was two and a half million dollars over five years. Money that should have been used to improve our lives, to educate our child. Instead, it had all been transformed into Zoe’s condo, her car, and her luxury goods. I immediately called a friend who was a lawyer. “This is a classic case of fraudulent transfer of marital assets,” she told me. “You can get it back. The hard part is proving the money went to a third party. Income statements aren’t enough. You need the transaction records.” Alex was cunning. I never got to touch his phone, and he surely deleted his records regularly. Bank statements could only be obtained in person, with his ID. I didn’t have his authorization. I couldn’t get them. Unless… An idea sparked. Zoe’s obsession with showing off. If she loved posting her life online so much, I would let her post to her heart’s content. 3. For the next few days, I was the perfect, gentle wife. I didn’t complain about the measly fifteen hundred dollars. I even went out of my way to cook Alex’s favorite meals. He lapped it up, and his guard slowly came down. “Honey, you’ve been so sweet lately. Is there something you want from me?” he asked casually over dinner, chewing on a pork rib. His mother cut in from the side. “That’s how a woman should be after having a child. Settle down. This is how a proper wife acts.” I smiled and put another piece of meat on Alex’s plate. “Actually, honey, I did want to talk to you about something.” Alex paused. “What is it? If it’s about money, the answer is no. I’m broke.” “It’s not about money,” I said, watching his expression carefully. “I was just thinking, this apartment is too small. It’ll be cramped when the baby gets older. Maybe we could look for a bigger place? My parents said they could help with a down payment.” The moment I said “bigger place,” his face changed. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with this place? Your parents help with the down payment, but who pays the mortgage? Me! Do you have any idea how much pressure I’m under?” He slammed his chopsticks on the table, his voice rising. “Clara, don’t be so materialistic. Stop dreaming about things we can’t have.” I looked down, feigning hurt. “I was just suggesting it. Why are you so angry? Fine, we won’t move.” His mother chimed in to support him. “Exactly, Clara. Alex works himself to death out there every day. Don’t add to his stress. This place might be old, but it’s a home.” Seeing me back down, Alex’s expression softened, but he was still annoyed. “Alright, just eat. And don’t bring up such unrealistic ideas again.” After dinner, Alex went to the study, claiming he had to work. I knew he was video-chatting with Zoe. I went to our bedroom, picked up my phone, and logged into my burner account. I found the viral thread. It was now the number one trending topic, with over ten thousand replies. Zoe was still in the comments, arguing with people, basking in the glow of their envy and hate. I posted a reply: “You’re so full of it. Men are too smart these days to give their entire thirty-grand salary to an ex. Unless you’re his mother. You’re probably just some keyboard warrior living out a fantasy.” It was a classic troll move, but for someone as vain as Zoe, it was the perfect bait. Sure enough, five minutes later, she replied. “LOL, the jealousy is real. Just because you couldn’t land a good man doesn’t mean every guy is a loser like your husband.” I fanned the flames. “All talk. Where’s the proof? Show us the transaction records. Bet you Photoshopped them. I could make a hundred of those myself.” My comment immediately drew a crowd of onlookers. “Yeah, post the receipts!” “Pics or it didn’t happen.” “I think she’s making it up too. No man is that stupid.” Zoe was clearly enraged. To prove her irresistible charm, to shut me—the hater—up, she actually did it. She posted the screenshots. She’d blacked out some of the names and account numbers, but the dates and amounts were crystal clear. A transfer of $30,000 on the 15th of every month. Another transfer of $5,000 on the 20th. Some even had memos: “For my baby to buy clothes,” “For my baby’s new car.” I saved every single image. Then, using the text notifications from my own banking app, I cross-referenced the transaction times with Alex’s salary deposits. A perfect match. Down to the minute. Every single transfer was made immediately after Alex’s paycheck hit his account. This was the smoking gun. I left one last comment on her thread: “Wow, you’re amazing. He really is the man of the century. I hope you can keep smiling forever. Just be sure you never have a reason to cry.” She replied with an arrogant emoji. “Don’t worry, I’ll be happy for the rest of my life. As for jealous trolls like you, you can stay rotting in the mud.” I turned off my phone, feeling a profound sense of satisfaction. Next Saturday was our son’s 100-day party. Alex, always concerned with appearances, had booked a high-end hotel and invited dozens of relatives, friends, and colleagues. He wanted to make it a grand affair, to show everyone how perfect his family life was. Oh, it would be a grand affair, alright. It would be the most unforgettable party of his entire life. 4. The day of the 100-day party was bright and sunny. A large archway at the hotel entrance read, “Celebrating 100 Days of Our Beloved Son, Leo.” Alex was at the door, dressed in a sharp suit, his hair slicked back, greeting guests with a beaming smile. Anyone who didn’t know better would think he was the guest of honor. My mother-in-law wore a brand-new, dark red dress, her face crinkled in a permanent smile as she bragged to everyone about her handsome grandson and successful son. I stood to the side, holding our baby, watching their pathetic performance with a sense of bitter amusement. Their outfits must have cost a few thousand, at least. Alex really had spared no expense to keep up appearances. Just then, my phone vibrated. A notification from a “favorite.” I glanced at it. Of course, it was Zoe. She had posted a photo on Instagram, her location tagged at the coffee shop right below the hotel. The picture was of a latte with delicate foam art. The caption read: “It’s enough to just watch you be happy from afar. Even if I can’t stand by your side, my heart is always with you.” The absolute nerve, coming here to taunt me in person. And right below her post was a “like” from Alex. For a second, I almost laughed out loud. What a tragic, beautiful love story. But after today, I wondered if this perfect couple would have anything left to smile about. The guests continued to arrive, and soon the banquet hall was full. Relatives from both sides of the family, Alex’s bosses and colleagues—everyone was in high spirits, offering their congratulations. “Clara, you’re so lucky to have such a family-oriented husband.” “Yes, Alex is a good man. So hardworking and reliable.” I smiled and nodded, my eyes growing colder with each fake compliment. My mother-in-law came over and gave me a little shove. “Don’t just stand there like a statue. When it’s time for the toast, you’d better look happy. Don’t you dare pull a long face and embarrass Alex.” I turned to look at her, the old woman who had once criticized my every move and was now an accomplice in her son’s deception. “Mom,” I said suddenly. My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the din of the hall with startling clarity. “What is it?” she asked impatiently. I stared directly into her eyes and asked, enunciating every word, “The thirty thousand dollars a month Alex gives to Zoe for her mortgage—did you really not know, or were you just pretending not to know?”

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My wife, who always hated animals, brought a puppy home. I endured my allergies to take care of her pet carefully. In an accident, I actually switched bodies with the dog?! My wife hugged my original body and cried bitterly: “Cody, we can finally be together openly.” I wanted to prove my identity, but they kicked me out of the house. As a result, I was caught by dog dealers and died miserably in a hot pot. Later I learned that Cody Lin was my wife’s white moonlight for many years. After a car accident, his soul possessed the dog. They set a trap to snatch my body and occupy all my property! Opening my eyes again, I kicked the evil puppy away. “Want me to be a dog? No way!” 1 “Didn’t you dislike keeping animals?” My wife Sarah, who always had mysophobia, was holding a Teddy dog tightly at this time. She rolled her eyes at me: “Do I have to explain everything I do to you?” Sarah carefully put the puppy on the sofa. The puppy was obviously groomed carefully and even wore a small outfit. I sneezed several times, my nose itching terribly. “Sarah, did you forget I’m allergic to dog hair?” “How about this dog…” Before I finished speaking, I was interrupted by Sarah: “Just wear a mask if you’re allergic. Why are you so dramatic?” “Can sneezing twice kill you?” Sarah’s voice was loud, causing the servants to look over. Although I was used to her temper, I still felt a bit embarrassed. I frowned: “Keeping a pet is not a small matter. Shouldn’t you discuss it with me?” Sarah didn’t seem to expect me to talk back to her, and her face sank immediately. She sneered: “Discuss?” “Did I give you too much face recently, making you forget who is in charge of this house?” Even the dog growled at me twice. Sarah hugged the puppy and said contemptuously: “You eat mine and drink mine at home every day.” “Where is it your turn to speak?” I was trembling with anger. I founded the company single-handedly back then. After marriage, Sarah said she was interested, and I gave her the decision-making power without saying a word, moving behind the scenes. For this marriage, I was willing to be a househusband. I didn’t expect to suffer such humiliation today! I gritted my teeth to suppress my anger, “You’ve gone too far!” As soon as the voice fell, the dog in Sarah’s arms suddenly jumped out and bit my calf hard. I screamed and fell to the ground in pain. Accompanied by severe pain, a memory forced its way into my head. I curled up on the floor in pain, my calf bleeding from the bite. “Come back quickly, you got your mouth dirty.” 2 Ignoring my miserable state, Sarah wiped the puppy with a distressed face. I stared at this person and dog with red eyes. I remembered everything! In the previous life, Sarah also brought the dog back suddenly. I took care of it patiently, but didn’t expect them to plot against me behind my back. Caused me to switch souls with the dog. Cody Lin occupied my body and enjoyed everything belonging to me openly! And I could only die miserably in a dog meat restaurant. The servants were frightened and scrambled to call 911 to send me to the hospital. Sarah didn’t care about me from beginning to end. After bandaging the wound in the hospital, I completely calmed down. Since God has eyes and gave me a chance to start over. This time, neither of the adulterous couple can run away! As soon as I got home, I saw Sarah holding Cody preciously. She glanced at me and perfunctorily said: “Nothing wrong, right?” I showed the wound that was still oozing blood, “What do you think?” Sarah frowned, “If you hadn’t scared Cody, how could he bite you?” In the previous life, I wondered why she gave the puppy such a strange name. Turns out it really is Cody Lin. I even took care of this dog with all my heart. “Anyway, I won’t send the dog away. Give up.” I smiled instead: “Wife, if you like it so much, then keep it.” She snorted coldly, “Wouldn’t it be less painful if you agreed earlier.” “I think you just have a cheap personality.” I actively stepped forward to show goodwill, reaching out to touch the dog’s head. Cody indeed bared his teeth and growled at me fiercely. Sarah stroked his fur, unable to hide the pride in her tone: “Cody recognizes his master.” Knowing the truth, I couldn’t help but feel a chill hearing this. I took out the dog treats I bought on the way from my pocket, tore open the package to lure him. “Cody, come here, there are treats.” I saw Cody’s struggle. Although the soul is human, the original habits of this body are hard to resist. I kept shaking the meat strip in my hand, the aroma wafting out continuously. Finally, instinct overcame his reason, and he rushed over to snatch my treats. 3 Seeing this scene, Sarah’s face turned pale. She screamed and rushed forward to snatch the dog treats. “You can’t eat this unclean stuff!” Cody gnawed several times before reacting, glaring at me viciously. I chuckled softly, couldn’t help feeling secretly delighted. Enjoy the taste of being a dog first! Sarah pushed me away angrily: “Cody is very delicate!” “He can’t eat those trash dog food and treats sold on the market.” I pretended to be innocent and asked: “I bought the best ones. Can’t even feed these?” “No!” “Go to the supermarket tomorrow to buy some top Australian lobster and filet mignon, cook them and tear them into pieces before feeding him.” Watching Sarah’s precious attitude, I sneered in my heart. Top Australian lobster? It’s good enough I didn’t stuff him in a poop basin. Cody started making trouble the second day he arrived home. Destroying the house and peeing everywhere, but only peeing on my clothes and pillows. It’s hard not to see this is deliberate revenge. I opened the wardrobe directly and threw Sarah’s clothes into the pee puddle too. Cody stared at my masterpiece with small eyes, so angry he could only bark. He tried to snitch to Sarah, but he forgot he was still in a dog’s body. A burst of barking couldn’t make her understand. “These two are limited editions…” Sarah was so angry her face turned red, but she couldn’t do anything to Cody. I looked calm: “I asked a vet I know. Puppies pee everywhere when they are in heat.” “Why not send him for neutering another day? It can also extend his life.” “No!” “Woof!” One person and one dog spoke in unison. Cody even bared his teeth at me in anger. Sarah squeezed out a smile: “It’s okay. I like Cody being more lively.” At night, Sarah insisted on sharing a room with the dog, just driving me to the guest room to sleep. Cody nestled in her arms proudly, looking like a victorious dog. Laugh. When you can’t change back, let’s see if you can still laugh. “Cody, bear with it for two more days.” “When I transfer his assets and swap his body to you, we can be happy together.” 4 Listening to Sarah’s vision outside the door, I couldn’t help sneering. Daydreaming. I dialed the number of my former company partner. The other side was a bit excited, “Brother Xu, you haven’t contacted me for a long time.” I felt a bit sour in my heart. Thinking that because of Sarah, I gave up the company without a word, I really let down my brother and myself. “I need your help with something, don’t know…” Before I finished speaking, the other side agreed directly. “Hey! Why be polite? Whatever Brother Xu orders, I’ll get it done.” I gripped the phone tightly, my blood boiling all over, “I want to take back the company.” Going to a banquet the next day, Sarah picked a small suit for Cody. I looked at the matching outfits of the person and the dog, my eyelids twitching. “You’re taking the dog?” Sarah picked up Cody, tone matter-of-fact: “I don’t feel assured leaving him at home.” Curious about what tricks they could pull, I didn’t object. Sarah even laid soft velvet in the back seat for him. “Is this for you to sit? Get away.” “You sit in front.” Sarah slapped my hand away, holding Cody and occupying the back seat. Sitting in the passenger seat, I occasionally felt the driver’s strange gaze. Those who came to the banquet today were all people of status. The scene was not small. Sarah left me aside the whole time, holding the puppy and boasting to other noble ladies. “Brother Xu, did you quarrel with sister-in-law?” A friend couldn’t help but come over to tease me. I took a sip of wine, the alcohol stinging my throat tight.

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The system asked me to redeem the villain, but I set the time travel to the year when the villain wasn’t even an embryo. The system was dumbfounded, then reacted: “Oh, you plan to adopt the villain later and give him a complete childhood.” I shook my head, looking gently at the little girl shivering on the ground. “No, I’m here to redeem the villain’s mom.” 1 “Indeed, instead of trying to conquer the villain with love, it’s better to influence him with family affection so he won’t grow up to be a villain… Wait, what did you just say? You want to redeem the villain’s mom!” The system was shocked and quickly tried to dissuade me. “Host, did you make a mistake? If the villain isn’t successfully redeemed, you will be erased.” I chuckled lightly. “System, are you stupid? What is the main reason the villain grows crooked? Being abandoned by his mother. “And why was he abandoned by his mother? Isn’t it because his mother didn’t have a good life either? “Then if I successfully redeem the villain’s mom, won’t the villain grow up straight under the guidance of a mother with normal values?” The system crashed from my five consecutive questions. After a while, its sluggish little brain finally reacted. “What you said… seems to make sense.” I held up a finger and shook it at the system. “So don’t question us big women in the future, okay?” The system nodded dully, and I refocused my gaze on the little girl in front of me. In the cold winter of December, she was huddled outside the door like a quail wearing only a single layer of clothes, her exposed forearm skin covered with mottled red marks. Seeming to sense my gaze, she looked up at me, casting a cold glance. Then quickly lowered her head and stopped looking at me. Such a look was the reason her biological parents didn’t like her. Of course, the most important thing was that she was missing a certain body part. I walked past her, picked up the knocker on the wooden door, and knocked hard. “Who is it? Who is knocking so early in the morning!” A middle-aged woman wearing a red padded jacket walked out cursing. She looked me up and down, eyes full of disdain and hidden jealousy. “Who are you?” I got straight to the point and threw an IOU at her. “You are He Shan’s wife, right? He Shan owes me two hundred dollars. I can’t find him now, so you pay me back for him. Otherwise, I will spread the news everywhere that your husband is looking for prostitutes in the city and not paying his debts.” The woman picked up the note and panicked. “You are talking nonsense! My man is not that kind of person! You must have seduced him! I knew it from your seductive look…” Before she finished her words, I impatiently picked up a wrist-thick wooden stick from the side and broke it directly in front of her. “Paying debts is a matter of course. It’s up to you whether you give it or not.” I smiled at her, revealing eight neat teeth. The woman was scared silly, her arrogance gone. She smiled ingratiatingly. “It’s not that I don’t want to give it to you. My family really doesn’t have that much money. How about waiting for my man to come back…” I frowned, and the woman immediately fell silent. My gaze circled around her small courtyard and finally landed on the little girl squatting at the door secretly looking at me. “Then give me your girl as collateral. Although she is young, she looks not bad.” The woman was stunned. Her eyes looked at me, then at the broken stick under my feet. Ten minutes later, the little girl followed behind my butt, walking unsteadily. 2 It wasn’t until she got into the taxi to the city with me that the little girl spoke in a muffled voice. “You are a human trafficker, right? Where are you going to sell me?” I was surprised. “Why do you think so? I am your family’s creditor.” The little girl shook her head. “My mom can’t read, but I can. The paper you threw at her was clearly a supermarket receipt.” I asked the system in my mind. “Did the villain’s mom not go to school?” The system confirmed and briefly reviewed the little girl’s life for me. “Helped with farm work at home until she was sixteen. Because she didn’t want to marry a rich old man, she fled to the city to work. She schemed to sleep with a rich CEO for one night and got pregnant with the villain. Later, the CEO’s white moonlight returned to the country. The villain’s mom lost to the white moonlight and was tortured to death by the CEO. The villain’s mom is also a cannon fodder vicious supporting female.” I shook my head and clicked my tongue. “Both are vicious supporting roles. Why does the system task only redeem vicious supporting males and not supporting females? If this character setting changes gender, it becomes a gloomy and pathetic little pitiful man. To put it bluntly, she is still missing a certain body part.” Seeing me silent, the little girl pulled my sleeve. I looked over, and she immediately withdrew her hand, as if afraid of dirtying my sleeve. “Can you sell me to the city? I look okay. Selling to the city will definitely fetch a good price.” The driver in front had looked over frequently through the rearview mirror. I held my forehead and quickly explained: “I am not a human trafficker. I am just a poor mother who just lost her daughter, so I want to adopt you as my daughter.” Well, in my last mission world, I was also someone’s mom. Since I have left that world, how does it not count as losing a daughter? The little girl didn’t speak anymore. She lowered her head like a dirty kitten. Seemingly defenseless, but actually tense all over, ready to explode at any moment. I reviewed my experience as a mother and reached out to hold her red and cold little hand in my palm. This grip made me realize that her hand was frighteningly rough and full of calluses. Meeting her sanpaku eyes, I took off my coat and put it on her. She subconsciously wanted to take it off. I stopped her. “If you freeze, you won’t sell for a good price.” Her body stiffened and didn’t move, just wrapped herself tightly in the down jacket, revealing a fluffy head. My heart softened suddenly. “Don’t worry, I don’t have a son. I won’t sell you for a bride price in the future.” 3 My identity in this world is a fake daughter who just jumped into the river in despair after learning her identity. She died, so I just borrowed her identity. When I stepped into the villa gate with the little girl, a voice was still persuading the real daughter. “Although she is not related to us by blood, the feelings of so many years are real. Moreover, although Julian should have been your fiancé, it is Lulu who has had feelings for him for so many years. How can we give him to you?” “I don’t listen to this. If it weren’t for her, how could I have suffered for so many years! Now you still favor her. I hate you, I hate you!” The dispute between the two stopped abruptly after I stepped into the house carrying Xixi. Xixi is the name I gave the little girl on the way, following my surname, full name Hua Xi. The real daughter, Hua Ting, turned her head away, not wanting to see me. Mother Hua asked me gently. “Lulu, who is this?” “My adopted daughter, Hua Xi. Xixi, say hello to your grandma and aunt.” With the help of the system, Xixi, who had just been registered, finally stopped suspecting that I was a human trafficker. At this moment, she just greeted the two people who were stunned on the spot obediently. “Hello Grandma, hello Auntie.” Mother Hua reacted first. “Wait, Lulu, who did you just say she is? Your adopted daughter? Registered? Why didn’t you discuss such a big matter with the family in advance? And your fiancé Julian, how can he accept this!” Hua Ting’s focus was: “Why should she call me Auntie? I don’t want you to be my sister!” Before I spoke, Xixi subconsciously stood in front of me. She bent slightly, arms tense, like a mother leopard protecting her cub. I was stunned and reached out to hold her small hand. “It’s complicated. I’ll explain to you after Xixi settles down. As for Julian, I will break off the engagement with him.” Mother Hua was anxious. “Are you worried that your dad and I won’t want you after Tingting is found? Don’t worry, you will always be our daughter.” Hua Ting rolled her eyes. “Here we go again, retreating to advance, right? Damn green tea.” I shook my head and pulled Xixi to the second floor. By the way, I threw a bombshell at them. “I went for sterilization surgery. I plan not to marry or have children in the future and devote myself to raising Xixi. Tell Julian to give up too.” After speaking, I silently pulled Xixi and disappeared from their sight, leaving only the two of them savoring the “sterilization surgery” in my mouth, messy in the wind. 4 Arriving in the room, I collapsed directly on the bed. The system was still babbling. “Host, when did you go for sterilization surgery? Why didn’t I know! Aren’t we together all day!” I rolled my eyes. “System, are you stupid? If I didn’t say this, how could the real daughter let down her guard against me? “Instead of engaging in sisterly love, it’s more practical for me to directly give up the right to inherit the family property.” System: “Right.” I suddenly remembered something, turned my head, and sure enough saw a certain small dumpling still standing straight at the door. On the way here, I bought her new clothes and took her to a barbershop to wash her hair, asking the barber to tie two buns for her. Looking like a doll in a New Year picture. I waved at her. Xixi moved over slowly. “Are you going to be kicked out of the house?” I pulled her to sit on the bed and asked her: “Why do you think so?” She whispered: “Because you are not their biological daughter.” I looked at Xixi’s pointed chin. Good, this kid is smart and definitely won’t need my tutoring. I didn’t explain immediately, just followed her words. “Then what if we are kicked out of the house and penniless?” She said seriously: “Then I will go farming to support you. I am very good at farming. I can compost, sow, and weed. The cornfield behind my house was planted by me.” Her head lowered more and more. “As long as you don’t send me back.” I finally knew where all the calluses on her hands came from. My heart soured suddenly. I hugged her in my arms, letting her pointed little chin rest on my broad shoulder. “Don’t worry, I won’t send you away, never in this life.”

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Rhys Kincaid, my husband, told me he was a ‘Narrative Corrector’, the linchpin who would lead me to save the world from the Xylosian Swarm. He promised I would stand beside him, revered by the masses. Now, I was a captive of the Swarm, ravaged and parasitized, my body a living incubator for alien spawn. In the throes of sheer, blinding despair, I subconsciously forced a connection to Rhys’s secure comm-channel. I heard his conversation with the World-Mind, the cosmic conscience of our reality. “Rhys,” the voice echoed, laced with urgency, “I tasked you with correcting the timeline to save the world. Why, then, have you delivered your own wife to the Swarm?” Rhys’s tone was cold, clinical. “My trade with the Swarm ensures the world’s survival.” “They originally requested Willow, but she’s too delicate. She wouldn’t survive the production process. Besides, she and I share a co-life contract. Rowan Maxwell had to substitute. Once this is over, I will compensate her.” It was him. The man who had sworn to protect me was the one who had condemned me to this hell. As the alien creatures violated my body to implant their eggs, I closed my eyes, the fight draining out of me… 1 “Initiating the delivery of the three-hundred and sixty-seventh spawn!” Something vast and foul writhed inside me. A tearing, seismic pain shot up from below. I jolted awake from a brief, merciful blackout. Faintly, the voices came again—the World-Mind and Rhys. “How much longer until your deal with the Swarm is complete?” Rhys’s voice was utterly devoid of emotion. “Who knows. I promised the Swarm that Rowan would incubate a thousand eggs for them. We are nowhere near done.” The World-Mind hesitated, a sound of genuine pity cutting through the link. “But your wife is fading fast. She’s been in continuous labor for nearly three days, enduring birth trauma every ten minutes. We must extract her. We need to find another way.” “No!” Rhys’s refusal was immediate, final. “A third of the task is complete. We will not abandon the path now.” A bitter, chilling agony spread through my chest, eclipsing the physical pain. I closed my eyes in self-mockery. Five years into the Xylosian invasion of the Stellar Union, I had developed the Bio-Interference Serum, the first effective counter to the Swarm’s communication system. I’d risked my life going out to find more Xylosian samples for precision testing. The Stellar Government had assigned a full protection detail, but Rhys had stepped in, insisting he protect me himself. I thought it was love—a husband’s deep-seated devotion. It was only days ago I realized the truth: a cold-blooded manipulation designed to modify the timeline and seal his bargain. Freshly hatched Xylosian young, no bigger than my thumb, crawled onto my chest. Their needle-like mouthparts pierced my skin, drawing out a foul, nutrient-rich fluid. A fierce jolt of agony made my entire body seize, followed by another sickening tear below. I couldn’t hold back the scream, the tears blurring my vision until my face was slick with them. I couldn’t accept that Rhys could do this to me. We were high school sweethearts, inseparable. He, the rising star of the Stellar Fleet, claimed he was sick of the cold, dynastic politics of the elite families and only wanted a simple, happy life with me. I had defied my own family’s expectations and married him. When the Swarm attacked, I worked relentlessly, driven by the desire to be a partner worthy of standing beside him. I risked parasitism every day, immersed in my research. I finally cracked the code—the Serum—three months into my own pregnancy. Now, I was a disgusting, broken vessel, a mother bug, endlessly spawning alien larvae. My own child, the one Rhys and I had made, was nothing but a casualty, a forgotten source of nutrition. Suddenly, the World-Mind’s voice was frantic in the comm-link. “Rhys, the Hive Lord is approaching! Rowan can withstand the drones, but if the Hive Lord violates her, she will die!” Silence. Rhys was silent. I waited, a sliver of desperate hope flickering. Maybe the years of marriage, the shared history, would finally break through. Maybe he would save me. His cold, flat voice crushed that hope to dust. “She can take it.” The World-Mind sounded genuinely horrified. “Rhys, she is your wife! Even to save the world, how can you let her endure this?” “Since she is my wife, it is her duty to shoulder my burdens,” he snapped. His voice rose, edged with a frantic, volatile energy. “In the last timeline, the Swarm won. We all died. It was Willow, her sacrifice, that bought us this reboot. I signed a co-life contract with her—if she dies, I die. I will not let her come to harm this time. As for Rowan, once she has birthed the eggs, I will compensate her.” It wasn’t just me he was sacrificing. He was doing it for her. He had always claimed Willow Sinclair sacrificed her life to grant him this do-over. The co-life contract, he said, bound them in life and death. That explained the endless indulgence. Willow wanted to be in the Research Corps, so he pulled strings to make her my assistant. She wanted to travel with the fleet, and he defied the government to keep her close. I fought him on it countless times. Each time, he would pull me into his arms, his voice steady and earnest: “Ro, you are my wife, the only woman I truly love. Willow is just… a sister. She has no one. I’m just looking out for her.” But I never imagined he would sacrifice my life to protect hers. I watched the massive, grotesque body of the Hive Lord slither slowly toward me. I closed my eyes, resigning myself to oblivion. I woke up in a medical bay, surrounded by ruin. Rhys was there, kneeling beside the gurney. His eyes were red, his expression a mask of profound grief. “Ro, I’m so sorry. I failed to protect you.” I looked at that face, the one I had been so madly in love with, and felt a scorching hatred that made my bones ache. I wanted to see him reduced to dust. I masked the venom in my eyes, letting a few weak tears slip down my cheeks. My voice was barely a whisper. “Rhys… why did it take you so long to come for me?” The hand stroking my hair flinched, and his eyes darted away, thick with guilt. “The fleet was cut off by the Swarm. We fought for a week straight before we could breach the perimeter and find you.” “I will protect you from now on, Ro. I promise. No matter what state you are in, I will always love you.” He covered my naked, broken body with his own uniform and carried me back to the base. The medics gasped when they saw my body—the raw, destroyed tissue on my chest, the horrific trauma below. What terrified them more were the hundreds of unhatched eggs still lodged deep in my uterus and lower intestine. They feared infection and mutation. No one moved to touch me. Rhys’s face darkened. He snarled, “What are you waiting for? Save her! If she dies, I’ll take this entire base down with her.” The staff exchanged silent, panicked looks. They remained frozen. Then, a tall figure in a clean white coat stepped forward, calmly taking charge of my wounds. Rhys remained by my side, murmuring soft reassurances. “Just a little longer, Ro. Don’t be afraid. I’m right here.” A cold, metallic device entered my body, meticulously extracting the remaining eggs. The fresh trauma to my wounds was too much. I blacked out again. When I next awoke, Rhys was holding my hand, his face etched with sorrow. “Ro, trust me. I will exterminate the Swarm one day. I will avenge you.” I closed my eyes, unable to look at his fake sincerity any longer. My love, my hope, my respect for him—it was all gone. Now, only profound disappointment and hate remained. Rhys was about to speak again, but a sickeningly sweet voice interrupted him. “Rhys, darling, I heard you were back.” Willow Sinclair walked in, looking like a celebrity arriving at a gala. Her fluffy skirt, lace, and ribbons made her look utterly ridiculous and completely out of place in a war-torn medical bay. While I had been covered in filth, working myself sick in a lab coat, Rhys had kept her blooming like an exotic flower. The moment she saw me, Willow let out a theatrical shriek and recoiled, burying her face in Rhys’s chest in manufactured terror. “Ah! A ghoul!” Rhys smiled indulgently, stroking her hair. “It’s okay, Willow. It’s just Ro.” Willow stared at me, her eyes wide with feigned shock, then turned a tearful, wounded expression to Rhys. “Rhys, I… I didn’t know it was Ro. She looks so terrifying. I didn’t mean it.” Rhys just hushed her, his comfort focused entirely on Willow. I managed a cold, internal sneer. She insulted me, but she gets the sympathy. Rhys used to accuse me of being jealous, paranoid, claiming he and Willow were innocent. I had clung to the belief that his love for me was real. Reality had just punched me in the face—repeatedly. Rhys left, citing urgent fleet business, but left Willow to ‘look after me.’ She stepped closer, her expression shifting to one of undisguised revulsion. “Disgusting. Ro, just look at you. Aren’t you sickened by yourself?” “I heard the doctors pulled hundreds of eggs out of you. Rhys is putting on a brave face, but he must be utterly repulsed. If I were you, I’d take my own life. I wouldn’t have the face to live.” I chuckled, a hollow sound. “You don’t need to worry about my husband and me.” We were legally married, protected by the Stellar Union’s laws. As long as that piece of paper existed, Willow was nothing more than an ugly footnote. Willow’s face contorted into something genuinely ugly. She lunged, pinching the raw, exposed flesh on my chest wound. “You filthy slut, violated by the Swarm! Why do you still cling to his side?” “As Rhys’s true intended, I have to clean up his messes and dispose of you.” She pulled out two injectors. A cold dread, colder than the metal on my body, seized me. “What are you doing?” I rasped. “You’re riddled with eggs. You must be parasitized.” “One of these is the Xeno-Inhibitor. The other is a Xylosian Pheromone Accelerant. I was torn, but Rhys said you’ve produced so many already, why not just let you transform into the disgusting, low creature you are?” I stared at Willow, horrified. I couldn’t believe it. I had led a team to develop the Inhibitor—the one thing that could save countless citizens from mutation. My life’s work, about to shock the entire Stellar Union. Rhys had given my crowning achievement to Willow. And now he intended to turn me into a monster. I was already compromised. The Inhibitor was my only hope. The Accelerant would seal my fate. Rhys was sacrificing me, then turning me into a monster, all for Willow. “Willow Sinclair, you wouldn’t dare!” My eyes bulged. I struggled to sit up, but the movement ripped open my wounds, sending a searing shockwave through me. “Don’t fight, Ro.” “I’ll take your place by Rhys’s side, adored by the public. You, my dear, can rot in hell.” She slammed one of the injectors into my arm. The Pheromone was a corrosive fire. My cells began to tear and boil. I screamed as the world dissolved into blackness. When I next awoke, my mind was foggy, my body numb with a constant, deep ache. I demanded to see Rhys. The nurses told me he and his fleet had already left for the Capitol Station. A suffocating dread settled over me. Without the Inhibitor, I would mutate into a monster. Begging and pleading, I managed to convince a small rescue team to pursue the fleet. We were lucky—a solar flare anomaly had delayed their take-off. The fear of turning into one of them fueled a desperate, agonizing crawl. I fell at Rhys’s feet, begging him for one dose of the Inhibitor. He looked down at me, his face hard and cold. “Ro, stop this theatrics. This batch of Inhibitor is critical. It must be delivered to Capitol for mass production. I cannot afford to waste a single dose.” I was stunned. I couldn’t believe he refused. Even the accompanying medical staff were appalled. “Commander, Ms. Maxwell will mutate without the Inhibitor! She’s your wife. How can you treat her like this?” Rhys shot me a look so venomous, it made me shiver. “Rowan, you’ll stoop to hiring actors now?” “Willow already gave you the Inhibitor. You are trying to frame her. I have a mission. I don’t have time for your childish, jealous games.” He turned, not even looking back, and strode toward his ship, ordering an immediate launch. The vessel was already spooling up its engines. I grabbed his pant leg, humiliating myself with a final, broken plea. “Rhys, I genuinely need one dose! Just one. Give it to me, and I’ll agree to the divorce. You can have Willow. You can have everything.” My offer only seemed to enrage him. His face darkened. He roughly shook my hand off. “Rowan Maxwell, you wouldn’t dare.” “You will stay here at the base and reflect. I’ll come back for you when you’ve recovered.” He stepped into the ship, reaching for Willow Sinclair, who was waiting at the hatchway, watching us. Willow gave me a sweet, victorious smile. My heart sank, plummeting into a bottomless void. I collapsed onto the tarmac, laughing—a choked, hysterical sound. The laughter seized up, and a horrific surge of blood and raw tissue churned up my throat. I vomited a mouthful of viscera onto the metal deck. The accompanying medics screamed, “She’s transforming! Get back!” A few nurses wanted to help, but the fear of parasitism kept them rooted to the spot, their faces masks of anguish. I would not become a monster. I asked the medic for a blade. I handed them a data file and a video log. “When I am gone, please give this to Rhys Kincaid.” As I plunged the blade into my own heart, a sterile voice echoed in Rhys Kincaid’s mind: “Co-Life Contract Partner Deceased. Commencing Life Countdown.”

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In the third year of our arranged marriage, I discovered my husband, Julian, was keeping a young mistress. He cut his overseas meeting short and flew back overnight. “She won’t affect your status as Mrs. Sterling. “So, don’t touch her.” The man who was usually unflappable now couldn’t hide the anxiety in his eyes. Terrified that I would hurt the person at the tip of his heart. I nodded, said nothing, and turned to leave. Julian was used to being the heir to an empire. But I still wasn’t used to being a socialite wife who danced with wolves. What suited me best was still the barren land ten thousand miles away. 1 Julian came back fast. 5 AM. I leaned against the sofa, my head throbbing. Leather shoes stopped in my line of sight. “She’s already moved out.” His voice was calm. I nodded. “Fast.” Worthy of the decisive CEO Sterling. Able to comfort and settle his lover in one night, then come home to clean up the mess. I stood up, wanting to go back to my room for a nap. As we brushed past each other. He grabbed my forearm. “This was an accident. In the future, she won’t affect your position as Mrs. Sterling. “So, Leah, don’t touch her.” His gentle tone carried a warning that couldn’t be ignored. I looked down. Julian was still wearing our wedding band on his ring finger. The plain platinum band glinted in the dim light of the floor lamp. “Julian,” I heard my own voice, “what is your relationship?” Asking it, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. A man hiding a young, beautiful girl in a villa for years… what else could it be? Before he could speak, I broke free from his grip. “It doesn’t matter.” I thought I maintained the dignity an adult should have. But I don’t know what triggered Julian. “Leah Vance, you don’t need to be like this.” A layer of anger coated his eyes. “From the beginning, this was a business marriage. We each take what we need. “In this circle, who doesn’t have women outside?” It felt like a silver needle piercing my heart. “Are you making excuses for yourself, or do you really think that?” I looked at him calmly. “Other wives might accept it, but I can’t.” 2 Discovering Bella was an accident. In a vacant villa in the Hamptons. She stood on the stairs in a white dress. When our eyes met, hers were panicked. “Leah… why are you here?” When my mom was alive, she often took me to see the students she sponsored. Bella was one of them. After Mom died, I went to the Middle East and never saw Bella again. I didn’t expect our reunion to be like this. 3 Back in my room, I lay in bed. Unfortunately, I didn’t sleep well. Gunshots, explosions, crying filled my dreams. I asked the Chief of Surgery to fill my schedule with operations, leaving no time to think about anything else. Just after finishing a night shift, I walked out of the hospital. I saw Julian’s driver trotting over. “Ma’am, Mr. Sterling asked me to pick you up for the Old Master’s birthday banquet.” I remembered then. It was Julian’s grandfather’s birthday. I took a deep breath and sat in the back seat. No one else was inside, only two exquisitely wrapped gift boxes. Julian had prepared the gift and the dress I was to wear. I didn’t take them. I asked the driver to detour, and I bought a gift myself. In my three years at the Sterling house, Old Master Sterling had always treated me sincerely. Before we parted ways, I should go see him. 4 The historic Sterling estate was brilliantly lit tonight. When I walked in, Julian’s friends greeted me. “Sister-in-law, you’re finally here. Our Julian is turning into a stone waiting for his wife tonight.” In the past, they always joked like this. Making me think Julian was just cold by nature and bad at expressing himself, but had me in his heart. Until I saw Bella yesterday, I realized being loved was just my hallucination. Trust in his character was just my naivety. “If you don’t want your mouth, sew it up.” Julian’s voice came from behind. Max laughed roguishly: “Clearly loves his wife to death but acts tough. Bro, be careful or you’ll be chasing your wife in the crematorium later.” Julian glanced at him, then at me, opening his mouth. I stepped away. Ignoring his changing expression. I didn’t come to see him anyway. After seeing Old Master Sterling and giving my blessings. As I was leaving, I accidentally bumped into a waiter carrying red wine. I went upstairs to change. When I came out, voices came from the next room. “Leah knows about Bella? No wonder she looked bad just now.” I stopped. “Did she make a scene?” “No.” “Julian, what if Leah makes you cut ties with Bella?” Silence for a few seconds, then Julian’s voice sounded. “Bella never asked for status. If Leah is smart, she should know her boundaries.” Someone chimed in: “Tsk tsk, Julian, watching you care so much about Leah these past few years, I thought you really fell for her.” Through the crack in the door, Julian’s face was grim. “Just a marriage alliance.” Someone agreed: “Bella went to war zones as a volunteer exchange student. Our Julian was a war correspondent there too. Someone like Leah, born with a silver spoon, can’t resonate with Julian’s soul like Bella can.” “Exactly. With Leah’s cold, aloof personality, I wouldn’t want to get close even if she’s beautiful. Bella is sweet and sensible.” Max snorted coldly: “Ungrateful bastards. Last month when your mom was sick, Leah did the surgery herself.” “She’s a doctor, isn’t that her job? Why are you defending her so much? If Julian divorces her, you marry her then.” “Damn it!” Max raised his voice and grabbed the guy’s collar. “Enough!” Julian shouted low. “Even if I don’t love Leah Vance, she is still my wife. It’s not your place to joke about her.” I didn’t want to listen anymore. I left the banquet. Those years rooted in the Middle East, the Vance family claimed I was studying abroad. So few knew about that experience. After all these years, I still disliked this glitzy vanity fair. I guess it’s because Julian and I were never compatible to begin with. Separating now isn’t a bad thing. Back home, I opened the back of a drawer. I took out the divorce agreement prepared before the marriage. I signed my name stroke by stroke, then put it back on top. On my phone video, Syria was engulfed in war, starving bodies everywhere. A little boy smiled bitterly at the camera: “Children here don’t grow up.” Julian was right. Who in this circle didn’t have women outside? It’s just that. He is used to being a wealthy heir now. But I’m not used to being a socialite wife. What suits me best is still the barren land ten thousand miles away.

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Chapter 1 After getting my year-end bonus, I bought my grad student boyfriend a pair of limited-edition Jordans. I didn’t expect to see them listed on Facebook Marketplace the very next day for twenty percent of the price. The box wasn’t even opened. I bought them immediately. After confirming the pickup, I called my boyfriend. “Babe, do you like the little surprise I got you?” Brad sounded confused. “What surprise?” I smiled, feigning disappointment. “I hid a vintage Patek Philippe watch inside the shoe box. It cost over seventy thousand dollars. You didn’t see it?” … I was scrolling through Marketplace over the weekend when I saw a local listing. [Limited Edition Jordans, Size 10.5, Brand New in Box. Urgent Sale! Only $300!] I stared at the text, frozen. I had just bought these shoes two days ago. Same style, same size. Because they were limited edition and a rare size, I stayed up for three nights in a row to snag them on the drop. I spent over a grand to get them. Maybe they were fakes? I tapped on the post and swiped through the photos. I stopped cold when I saw the wrapping paper around the shoe box. It was matte grey with subtle silver embossing. Exactly what I had chosen. The standard shipping box was too plain, so I had gone to two different boutiques to find this specific wrapping paper. I picked the understated grey because I was afraid Brad would think it was too flashy. I told myself it might be a coincidence, but my fingertips were turning ice cold. I clicked on the seller’s profile. The location was right here in Chicago. I sat in silence for a moment, then hit the “Message” button. “Hi, are these still available? Are they authentic? Why so cheap?” The reply was instant. “Don’t worry, they’re 100% real. Shipped directly from the flagship store. I haven’t even taken the wrapping off.” Then, he sent a screenshot of the tracking info. Receiver: Brad. Sender: My Amazon account name. I almost dropped my phone. The seller was definitely my boyfriend, Brad. I had sent him that exact tracking screenshot myself. My fingers went stiff. I took a deep breath and clicked on his seller profile, scrolling down. We’d been together for six months. Almost everything I had given him was listed there. The noise-canceling headphones I gave him for our one-month anniversary. Listed for $150. The gaming console for our 100-day anniversary. Listed for $250. The latest iPad Pro I bought him recently because he said he needed it for research. Listed for $600. All marked as “Sold.” And a scarf. I had knitted it myself last winter. My fingers had blistered from the needles. He had hugged me then, swearing he’d wear it forever. Now it was listed for $10. The description read: Gift from a friend. Not my style. Just sitting around. I stared at those words, nausea rising in my throat. Since we started dating, Brad asked for gifts constantly. There was always a reason. One-month anniversary, 100 days, his birthday, his thesis proposal getting approved… I bought something every time. I’ve been working for two years; he’s still in grad school. I figured he had no income, so I tried to spare him any expense. So even when his return gifts were just cheap snack boxes or freebies he got from online promos, I never said anything. I thought I was being understanding. Now I see it. To him, I was just an ATM. A new message popped up. “Hey beautiful, you still interested? If you’re serious, I can lower the price a bit. I can ship it out today.” Chapter 2 I stared at the message, a mix of emotions churning in my gut. Should I expose him right now, break up, and tell him to get lost? No, that would be letting him off too easy. After thinking for a moment, I backed out of the chat and changed the shipping address to my best friend Sarah’s apartment complex. Once I confirmed everything, I clicked “Buy Now.” The moment the payment went through, a new message popped up. “Thanks for the quick payment! I see you’re local. I’ll Uber Connect it to you right now! Please confirm receipt as soon as you get it, I really need the cash!” I stared at the text and replied: “Sure, send it.” An hour later, I was holding the package at Sarah’s place. The shoe box was pristine. The seal was unbroken. The gift card I had specifically asked the brand to include was still tucked into the side slit. He hadn’t even opened it. “Aren’t those the shoes you gave Brad?” Sarah frowned, leaning in. “What’s going on?” I handed her my phone and let her scroll through the Marketplace history herself. Sarah flipped through a couple of pages, her face getting colder by the second. “That scumbag!” she hissed. “What are you gonna do? March over to campus and slap him?” I shook my head. “That’s boring.” If he dares to cash out on me, I’m going to make sure he loses everything. Just then, another notification popped up from the app. “Hey, the driver says it was delivered. Could you confirm receipt on the app? I really need the money urgently. Trying to buy a birthday gift for my girlfriend.” I froze. Girlfriend? My birthday is in October. It’s March. Which girlfriend is he buying a gift for? Sarah saw it too and let out a cold laugh. “Looks like this piece of trash isn’t just using you for money, he’s cheating too! Unbelievable.” I didn’t say a word. I clicked “Confirm Receipt.” The second the money transferred, I picked up a utility knife from Sarah’s counter. I gently sliced a cut across the outer wrapping of the shoe box. I took a photo and sent it to Brad’s seller account. “Hi, I just started opening the package and noticed a tear here.” Brad exploded immediately. “No way, lady! It was perfect when I gave it to the driver! Not a scratch on the packaging! You did that yourself!” “You didn’t check it upon delivery. You already signed for it and now you’re claiming damage? Who knows if you cut it yourself trying to get a refund? No way!” “You already confirmed the receipt! Whether it’s broken or not has nothing to do with me now! Don’t try to scam me!” Before I could reply, he blocked me. I smiled. That was exactly the guarantee I was waiting for. Whether it’s broken or not has nothing to do with him. I switched to iMessage and called Brad immediately. He picked up, his voice cheerful. “Hey babe, what’s up? Miss me?” I replied, “Yeah. Just wanted to ask, did you get the shoes? Do they fit?” Silence on the other end for a split second. “I got them,” he said, sounding slightly unnatural. “They fit great. But honestly, babe… I don’t really like them.” “Oh? Why not?” “I’m a second-year grad student. I’m about to start interviewing for internships. Wearing thousand-dollar sneakers feels a bit… juvenile.” He paused, softening his tone deliberately. “I know you meant well, but I need a mature, professional image right now. These shoes just don’t suit me.” I curled my lip. “Is that so? Then return them. The official site has a 7-day return policy. As long as you haven’t worn them outside, you can return them. They cost over a grand. Return them and I’ll get you something more mature.” Chapter 3 “Don’t!” he interrupted sharply. “But didn’t you say you didn’t like them?” “I… I actually wore them outside already,” he said, speaking faster. “There’s dirt on the soles, and I threw the box away. Definitely can’t return them.” “Oh,” I drawled. “Never mind then. But do you really think they’re childish?” “Yeah,” his tone returned to that calm, almost lecturing vibe. “Chloe, don’t buy me stuff like this anymore. I won’t have many chances to wear it. I’m about to start my internship. If you really want to get me something, buy something practical.” “Like what?” “Like a watch, or the new iPhone. That fits my status better. It looks good when I meet clients.” I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned white. He hasn’t even graduated, and he’s talking to me about status. No wonder he thought the shoes were childish. He was setting the stage for this. I suddenly remembered when I sent him the order screenshot three days ago, he just replied with “Cool.” I thought he was busy. I didn’t expect him to be so disappointed he couldn’t even fake enthusiasm. “You’re right,” I said slowly. “I agree. You’re starting your career; you need to look the part.” Brad sounded thrilled. “Right? I knew you’d understand! Actually, I saw a Longines watch, it’s only about two grand, if you…” I cut him off. “That’s why I hid a watch in the shoe box. A vintage Patek Philippe. You didn’t see it?” Dead silence on the other end. I could only hear his breathing getting heavier. A few seconds later, Brad’s voice cracked. “What?” “A Patek Philippe,” I said innocently. “It’s at the very bottom of the box, wrapped in velvet. You didn’t open it? There’s a handwritten letter from me in there too.” “I…” He stammered. “You put a watch inside the shoe box?” “Yeah,” I sighed. “If I knew you didn’t like the shoes, I would have just given you the watch. That thing was so expensive. My heart hurt when I swiped the card.” I heard a dull thud on the other end, like a fist hitting a table. Then, a girl’s lowered, whiny voice: “What are you doing? Why are you mad…” Brad lowered his voice too, sounding frantic. “Because you wanted that bag! How else could I sell the shoes so fast?! This is a disaster! We lost big time!” The girl scoffed. “I told you they were limited edition. The price would go up if you held them. You’re the one who insisted on selling…” “If I didn’t sell them now, how would I get them in time for your birthday?!” I pretended not to hear their whispers and asked with concern: “Brad? Are you okay?” “Nothing,” his voice was dry. “Chloe, did you just say… how much was that watch?” “Over seventy thousand,” I said casually. “I was going to buy a new car, but I thought you needed a good watch for your interviews more. So I bought it.” “Seventy thousand?” His voice started to tremble. “Where did you get that kind of money?” “Year-end bonus,” I said, sounding aggrieved. “My project did really well this year. I got an eighty-five thousand dollar bonus. I spent almost all of it on your watch.” “You…” He gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?!” “I wanted it to be a surprise.” I paused, then injected panic into my voice. “Wait, why are you asking like that? Is the watch missing?” “I… might have missed it…” He was rambling now. “I haven’t looked at the box closely…” “Go look for it!” I shouted. “It’s a classic model. Even second-hand, it’s worth forty or fifty grand! If it’s lost, I’m going to die!” I sent Brad a photo of the watch and the receipt from the boutique. “Look, this style suits you perfectly. It’s a bit mature, but you can wear it for years.” Chapter 4 Brad didn’t speak. I could only hear his heavy breathing and the faint sound of the girl trying to comfort him in the background. After a long while, he squeezed out a sentence in a hoarse voice: “Chloe, something urgent came up. I have to go…” The moment he hung up, a notification popped up on my Marketplace app. “Hey! Are you there?! Urgent!” “Do you still have the shoes you just bought from me? Don’t open them! I’ll buy them back! $500? $1000? Whatever!” “Please!” I typed back slowly: “Just finished dinner. Was about to open them. What’s up?” He replied instantly: “Don’t open it! There’s something really important in the box!” “What is it?” He typed for a long time, the dots dancing, before sending: “Actually, these shoes were a New Year’s gift from my girlfriend. There’s a handwritten letter inside. It’s not worth money, but it means a lot to me. If she finds out I sold the shoes and the letter, she’ll break up with me. Please, have a heart. Sell them back to me. I’ll pay $2000. Okay?” I stared at the words “handwritten letter” and laughed. First it was a gift from a friend, now it’s a girlfriend. Lying without blinking. Clearly not his first rodeo. I deliberately didn’t reply. He panicked. “Why are you like this? I said I’d pay extra!” “Give me your address, I’ll come pick it up right now!” “If you don’t reply, I’m calling the police!” I took a screenshot of our chat where he said “Whether it’s broken or not has nothing to do with me” and sent it to him. “Police? You said it yourself, once it’s sold, it’s not your problem! What, changing your mind now? Selling a gift your girlfriend gave you… you must be desperate for cash. I feel sorry for her!!” The typing indicator flashed for ages. Finally, he blurted out: “How much do you want to give it back?” I thought for a moment and typed a number: “$5,000.” I expected him to curse me out and haggle. Instead, he agreed instantly. “Fine! Five grand! Done!” I raised an eyebrow. Seems a seventy-thousand-dollar watch is worth the investment. I reposted the listing. Brad bought it instantly. After paying, he sent a flurry of messages. “Use Uber Connect! I’ll pay for the ride! Hurry!” “Pack it well! Don’t let it get damaged!” I had Sarah’s family driver call a courier. In front of the courier, I put the shoe box back into a bag and sealed it. I recorded the whole process and sent it to Brad. “Sent. Remember to confirm receipt when you get it.” He replied, “Ok.” After the courier left, I switched back to text messages and messaged Brad: “Babe, did you find the watch?” “Do you like the style? Should we exchange it for something else?” “Why aren’t you answering? Are you busy?” He didn’t reply to a single one. An hour later, the app showed delivered. A notification popped up: “Transaction Successful.” Almost simultaneously, Brad’s text came through: “Babe, I found the watch! It’s beautiful! Suits me perfectly! Thank you! Love you!” I smiled. He probably hadn’t opened the box yet and just wanted to stall me. Unfortunately, his peace only lasted ten seconds. Ten seconds later, my Marketplace inbox exploded.

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Asher always insisted on boundaries. Pathological ones, if I’m being honest. When we married five years ago, he bought both units on the top floor—a classic two-unit landing. He lives in the penthouse. I live in the condo across the hall. Except for our scheduled, once-a-week encounters, he absolutely forbade me from setting foot in his apartment. Tonight, after the obligatory performance, I was exhausted. I reached for a glass on his nightstand, not thinking, and drank from it. He watched me, his expression hardening with a visceral disgust I’d only ever seen reserved for me. He didn’t just toss the cup; he used a paper towel to handle the glass, then dropped the expensive crystal tumbler into the trash like it was biohazard waste. The slam of the door. He didn’t just close it; he detonated the sound, shutting me out and sealing me in the cold hallway. The accumulated sting of years rushed up, hot and fast. I found myself unlocking my phone and posting a rant on a popular forum, venting about my husband’s almost clinical need for distance. I never expected the post to go viral. [Oh my god, isn’t this the famous ‘Penthouse King’ from the city’s old gossip threads? Asher Wilde.] [The one who chased Willow Avery? He’d buy any apartment she rented and then offer her free rent just to get her to live near him.] [LOL, he was absolutely obsessed. Total simp.] [I used to see them at the university night market. She’d take one bite of something and drop the rest in his bowl. He’d just eat it, grinning like a fool. He didn’t even care if it was gross.] 1 [Wait—the poster isn’t Willow Avery! Holy hell, the OTP broke up?] [Goes to show, for a guy like that, if he can’t have the one he truly wants, everyone else is just a consolation prize.] [Asher was so publicly devoted to Willow, and now he’s married to the poster and acting like this? The irony is incredible.] [Y’all are really dragging the OP through the mud here! She’s the one married to him!] Six thousand eight hundred comments. They didn’t just piece together a man; they constructed an Asher Wilde I had never met. Not the cold, distant husband who always walked into Hawthorne Corp. ten minutes ahead of me to ensure we never crossed paths. They described a boyfriend who was earnest, dramatic, and intensely public with his love. He had once leased the largest digital billboard in Midtown for an entire week, broadcasting only her photo and the caption: Willow Avery, I love you. It was never about boundaries. It was about me. The truth was brutal: I had never, for a single moment, been inside his heart. The only boundary he needed was the one separating me from the woman he loved. So why had he married me? I moved my suddenly leaden legs. I broke his cardinal rule—never approach him at Hawthorne Corp.—and pressed the button for the executive floor. I desperately needed an answer. The elevator doors opened onto a hub of excited chatter. “Ten years at Thorne, and I’ve never seen Mr. Wilde look so panicked.” “I know! He never cancels for personal stuff. Liu the driver said he was speeding home.” “I think I heard him whisper ‘Will’ as he was leaving…” “His ex must be back. Looks like Hawthorne might finally get a real First Lady.” Five years of marriage. Five years of my cajoling, crying, and silent treatments, and Asher never once agreed to make our relationship public. Willow Avery achieved it with a single phone call. Was he avoiding the trouble of a public marriage, or was he afraid his ex would be upset, jeopardizing their reunion? I managed to steady my hands, drove home, and started knocking. He wasn’t answering his phone. Every time we slept together, he changed the lock code before I woke up. I lived in the separate unit, isolated and alone. I used to tell myself he simply had a quirk, an inability to share his space twenty-four/seven. Now, I realized I was just the woman he summoned and dismissed. His temporary placeholder. His… The word was too humiliating to even form in my head. I stopped knocking and started pounding. “Asher! Open this door!” The door finally opened. But it wasn’t Asher, and it wasn’t Willow. It was a haggard, middle-aged woman with stark white hair. She turned, her voice hoarse, and called toward the kitchen, “Ash, a friend is here for you.” Asher emerged, carrying a bowl of steaming broth. He gave me a cold, dismissive look. “I did not authorize your entry.” I gripped my fists tightly and pointed at the woman. “Who is she?” “It’s none of your concern.” “And Willow Avery?” Asher flinched. He clearly hadn’t anticipated me knowing her name, much less confronting him so directly. The older woman answered first. “You know my daughter?” She was suddenly seized by a violent, hacking cough. Asher rushed to her side, gently patting her back. He shot me a look of pure impatience. “Willow’s mother is sick. My place is close to the hospital, so they’re staying a few days.” I watched Asher fuss—adjusting the pillow, pouring warm water, covering her with a soft blanket, his voice low and solicitous, asking if she was comfortable. It ripped a memory out of me. The day my own mother arrived in the city for chemotherapy, having hidden her stomach cancer diagnosis from me and taken a seven-hour bus ride to save money. She was sitting, exhausted, with all her bags, on the stoop of the building. I was stuck in traffic and called Asher, begging him to let her rest in his apartment for a little while. His cold refusal was immediate. “Sienna, for God’s sake, maintain some boundaries. I am not running a hospice here. I’ll have a driver take your mother to a hotel.” I hadn’t understood his rigid prejudice then, or why he wouldn’t feel any compassion for my sick, road-weary mother. I could only compromise. Now, I finally understood. He didn’t love me. He didn’t care about my family. Perhaps sensing my thoughts, Asher cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Sienna, why don’t you go back to your place and relax? Once I get Mrs. Avery settled, I’ll take you to see The Quiet Hours tonight.” I had begged Asher multiple times to see that movie, and he’d always coldly refused. No matter how I pleaded, he wouldn’t even look up from his phone. “That kind of sentimental indie flick is beneath us, Sienna.” Now, he was offering a bone, a quick bribe to keep me from pressing the issue of Willow’s mother living here. Everything, it seemed, was negotiable when it came to Willow. I dug my nails into my palms, ready to refuse, when the door to the primary suite was pulled open. A woman stepped out. She was wearing a soft, oversized cotton shirt—definitely Asher’s, and definitely not meant to be seen. Her fair skin was dewy, and her long, dark hair was still wet, water spotting the polished hardwood as she walked. It felt like a punch to my chest.

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1 The call from my mother came as I was being murdered by the serial killer she’d been hunting for ten years. Her voice was laced with venom from the moment she spoke. “Your cousin Lily is getting married next week. You will be there as her maid of honor.” “Her fiancé used to be your boyfriend,” she continued, her tone sharp as glass. “If you don’t show, think of how it will make her look.” I was already fading, the world turning grey at the edges from blood loss. I didn’t have the strength to speak. She didn’t notice. All I heard was her impatient snap. “What are you, dead? Can’t even say a word.” “I’m telling you, Chloe, even if you’re dying, you’ll crawl to that wedding and be her maid of honor first.” Two days later, she was leading the investigation into the gruesome discovery of a dismembered young woman. She identified the killer’s signature work in a single glance. The one thing she didn’t identify was the victim. Me. Her despised daughter. My remains were found by workers cleaning out a septic tank. It took three officers in heavy-duty respirators a full day and night of draining the filth to find all of me. My mother, Captain Eva Rostova, arrived at the precinct, her face a grim mask of professionalism. “Time of death? Have we identified the victim?” Dr. Peterson, the head medical examiner, pulled off his gloves with a weary sigh. “Preliminary estimate is two to three days ago. The body is too severely damaged to identify by face or fingerprints. I’ve sent samples for DNA. We’ll have results in three days, fastest.” At the case briefing, the mood was grim. After Dr. Peterson presented the autopsy findings, a wave of anger swept through the room of hardened detectives. “She was only in her twenties. A kid. Damn him.” “This was torture, not just murder. Sick son of a bitch.” A veteran detective who had served under my mother for years, Mark Reilly, suddenly stiffened. He looked at her, a question in his eyes. “Captain… the MO. You think it’s him?” My mother’s gaze, which had been locked on the autopsy report, shot up. Her eyes were like chips of ice. “It’s Walter Crane,” she said, her voice low and certain. “I’ve studied him for a decade. It’s him.” She continued, addressing the room. “He’s a fanatic. Believes a person’s retina holds the last image they saw before death. None of his victims have ever been found with their eyes intact.” A heavy silence fell over the room. The newer detectives hadn’t been on the force a decade ago, but everyone knew the name Walter Crane. The “Vanishing Girls” case had shaken the entire country and left deep scars on the original investigative team. He had disappeared for ten years. Why he had resurfaced now, no one knew. As the lead detective on the original case, my mother knew Crane better than anyone. She immediately formed a task force and began coordinating the investigation. Mark, an old friend from the police academy, was forced to stay behind at the office with a leg injury, relegated to sorting through cold case files. As the teams filed out, his eyes settled on my mother. “Looks like you didn’t even have time to change,” he observed, gesturing to her rumpled suit. “This case couldn’t have come at a worse time. Must be throwing a wrench in the wedding plans.” At the mention of the wedding, my mother’s professional focus dissolved into pure resentment. “Wedding plans? It’s Lily who’s getting married. That menace is just a bridesmaid.” Mark looked confused. “Wait, you’re saying Chloe’s ex is marrying Lily? How did that happen?” “How do you think it happened?” she scoffed. “Any sane man would choose Lily over that… that monster who killed her own father.” Mark sighed heavily. “Eva, it’s been three years. You have to let that go. I miss David too, but it wasn’t all Chloe’s fault. She’s been living with that guilt ever since. You kicked her out, but all she ever does is ask about you.” He leaned forward. “She told me once, no matter what you asked her to do, she’d do it. No questions asked.” My mother’s face contorted with rage. “You really believe that? She’s a master manipulator, always playing the victim for outsiders. She’d do anything I ask? Then why won’t she agree to be Lily’s maid of honor? It’s been two days, and she won’t even return my call.” “She’s a selfish, worthless parasite,” she spat, her voice dripping with venom. “Serves her right she couldn’t even hold on to her own boyfriend.” Mark shook his head, a sad, defeated look on his face. He wanted to say more, but it was family business. He let it drop. I stood right there in front of her, a ghost in the room, listening to every poisoned word. Tears I could no longer physically cry streamed down my face. Mom, I wasn’t being selfish. I was just… dead. I died the day you called me about Lily’s wedding. The dismembered body you saw today… that was me. 2 “Mark, stop worrying about trivial matters,” my mother ordered, her voice clipped and professional again. “Pull all missing persons reports for young women filed in the last ten days. We need to ID this victim, fast.” With that, she turned and strode to the morgue, coming to stand before my body once more. I remember her telling me once that the dead can’t speak, but they often tell us more than the living. Dr. Peterson was performing a second, more detailed autopsy. I lay on the steel table like a crudely stitched-together doll. My mother glanced at my remains, then squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back a wave of nausea. Her gaze fixed on the ME’s hands, her brow furrowed in thought. Then, her frown deepened. She reached out and took hold of my ankle. My ghostly breath hitched. Is she going to recognize me? There’s a scar on my ankle, a pale, jagged line from when I tumbled down the stairs as a child. But a moment later, she spoke, her voice puzzled. “Ligature marks on the ankle. That’s not his style. Crane never tied up his victims. It was like he knew they had no chance of escape.” A dull ache spread through my chest. Walter Crane didn’t tie people up. But that doesn’t mean others wouldn’t. She was so strong, Mom. It hurt so much. Don’t you know? I was so scared. Just then, my mother’s phone rang. She walked briskly out of the autopsy room, a rare smile gracing her lips as she answered. “Lily, darling. Sorry, I was busy, I didn’t hear your call.” “Don’t you worry,” she cooed. “I’ll make sure that menace shows up to be your maid of honor. If she dares refuse, I’ll disown her for good.” Lily’s sweet voice chirped from the other end. “Aunt Eva, it’s okay. Even if Chloe doesn’t want to, I won’t blame her. It was my fault for taking Julian from her in the first place.” My mother’s expression hardened instantly. “She wouldn’t dare! As soon as I’m done with this case, I’ll go find her myself. I’ll drag her to your wedding if I have to.” Her voice softened again. “Listen, things are a little crazy right now. You stay home for the next few days, lock your doors and windows, and don’t go anywhere. Understand?” The affection in her voice was a physical thing, a warmth that never touched me. For her beloved niece, there was endless love. For me, only contempt. The moment she hung up with Lily, another call came in. It was my aunt, one of the few relatives who still spoke to me. “Eva? Has Chloe been by to see you? She was supposed to come over and tutor the kids this weekend, but I haven’t been able to reach her for two days.” My mother’s brief moment of calm evaporated. “Why would she be here? I would never let her in my house.” “You know how she is,” my mother continued, her voice dripping with scorn. “She’s manipulative and a pathological liar. You actually believe a word that comes out of her mouth? That’s laughable.” My aunt sounded uncomfortable. “Eva, Chloe’s not like that. She’s always been so helpful to me, she’d do anything I ask.” “Oh, so she’ll do anything you ask, but she ignores me?” my mother seethed. “All I asked was for her to be a bridesmaid for her own cousin, and she decides to play this little disappearing game. Well, you can give her a message for me. She has two more days. If she doesn’t agree, we’re done. I’ll have no daughter.” She hung up, her face a mask of cold fury. Mark came to find her just in time to hear the end of the conversation. He raised an eyebrow and sighed dramatically to the empty air beside him. “You know, if someone doesn’t answer your call, you could always try calling them again. Why does everything with your own kid have to be a declaration of war?” My mother shot him a glare and was about to storm off when another officer stopped her. “Captain, we’ve got someone here reporting his daughter missing.” In the interview room, a middle-aged man with exhausted, red-rimmed eyes described his situation. “My daughter is twenty-three. Just graduated from college. She called me the day before yesterday, said she was coming home to visit. Now I can’t reach her. She’s never, ever gone more than two days without calling. Please, you have to help me find her.” My mother and Mark exchanged a look of shared sorrow. On the slab downstairs, my body belonged to a girl of about twenty-three. I floated in the air above them, a heavy stone sitting in my chest. Even a man who seemed gruff and unobservant on the surface could be brought to his knees by the fear of losing his daughter. Less than two days, and he was here, begging for help. But my own mother, after five days of silence from me, was still just angry. Still convinced I was playing games to get out of a wedding. The numbness in my heart was absolute. It’s true what they say. To someone who loves you, a cough is a sign of pneumonia. To someone who doesn’t, you could be hanging from a noose and they’d think you were just playing on a swing. 3 My mother was debating whether to tell the distraught father about the body they’d found—the timeline didn’t quite match—when the man’s phone rang. A number he didn’t recognize. My mother’s police instincts kicked in immediately. She gestured for him to put it on speaker. “Dad? I’m so sorry, my phone was stolen. I’m using a friend’s. I’m okay, I’ll be home in an hour.” The man sagged with relief, tears of joy streaming down his face. He staggered to his feet, leaning against the wall for support. As he left, he kept apologizing. “I’m so sorry to have bothered you, officers. Thank you.” My mother watched him go, her expression somber. “A child is a parent’s whole world,” she murmured. “Every time we get a missing persons case, the hardest part is watching the hope die in their parents’ eyes.” I floated beside her, studying her face. A child is a parent’s world, Mom? Then what am I to you? Just something you hate? You feel pity for him, but you can’t spare a single drop for me. The task force worked around the clock for a day and a night, but came up with nothing. They were all exhausted and frustrated. “How does a person just vanish without a single person noticing?” “No one’s even reported her missing.” “Maybe she was an orphan, or homeless.” Speculation flew around the conference room. Just then, the dispatch operator knocked and entered. “Captain Rostova, there’s a call for you. They’re specifically asking for you.” My mother took the phone, her brow furrowed. “Captain Rostova? This is the manager at Chloe’s internship. She hasn’t shown up for work in three days, and we can’t get in touch with her. I know you’re her mother, so I’m calling to inform you. Consider this my official report, okay? If anything happens to her, the company isn’t liable.” My mother’s temper, which had been simmering just below the surface, exploded. “What does that have to do with me? I’m warning you, if you ever tie up a public emergency line for her personal drama again, I’ll charge you with obstructing justice.” My manager was so stunned he could only stammer an apology before quickly hanging up. The conference room was silent. Everyone knew the Captain’s temper. It was Mark who finally broke the silence, using a file as an excuse to pull her into her office. “Eva, this isn’t right,” he said, his voice low. “Three days no-show at work, her aunt can’t reach her… What if something really has happened? I tried calling her just now while you were on the phone. Still no answer.” “I can take a couple of uniforms and go check on her,” he offered. My mother’s face was like stone. “There is a victim lying on a cold slab in the morgue, waiting for justice,” she said through gritted teeth. “There is a monster on the loose, and you want to waste manpower on her childish games?” “She’s just doing this to get out of the wedding. It’s a pathetic stunt. Trust me, she’ll come crawling back within three days.” She was right. In the past, no matter how much she hated me, how much she screamed at me, I always went to see her. Every few weeks, I’d stop by the precinct, even if the gifts I brought ended up in the trash. I always came back. But not this time, Mom. This time, I’m already here. I’ve been by your side all along. 4 To expedite the hunt for Walter Crane, my mother didn’t even go home. After calling Lily to remind her to lock her doors, she decided to sleep in her office. She worked until the early hours of the morning, finally lying down on the small cot. She had just drifted off when her phone shattered the silence. Six a.m. A call at this hour was never good news. She shot upright, grabbing the phone. “Rostova.” “Is this Chloe’s mother? Your daughter is over a week late on her rent. I can’t find her, and you’re the emergency contact. You need to come down and pay what she owes.” It was my landlady, a sweet but notoriously early riser. Despite her fury, my mother managed to restrain herself, knowing she was speaking to an elderly woman. She bit out a cold, “I’ll handle it,” and hung up. She sat on the edge of the cot, rubbing her temples. The victim’s identity remained a mystery, but my name, Chloe, seemed to be haunting her from every direction. Frustration boiling over, she pulled out her phone and found my contact information. After a long moment of hesitation, she typed a single, furious line. Get your ass to my office within the hour. The message sent instantly, but a red exclamation mark appeared beside it. Her eyes widened in disbelief. She slammed the phone down on the cot. “You’ve got some nerve, Chloe,” she seethed. “You actually blocked me.” She paced the small office like a caged animal, so lost in her rage that she didn’t hear her phone ringing again until the third or fourth time. She glanced at the screen. It was my name. The contact she had saved simply as “C.” “You’ve got some nerve, Chloe!” she barked into the phone. “Still playing these stupid games?” “I’m warning you, even if you were on your deathbed, you would still have to be that maid of honor!” “Don’t think this little stunt will make me forgive you. The only way I will ever forgive you is if you die!” There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a man’s hesitant voice. “Captain? It’s me. We’ve found the primary crime scene. And… we found this phone here.”

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