Category: English

Everyone in the Manhattan elite knew that Rhett Kingston would lie about anything to protect his ‘sister,’ Sloane Avery. He’d even torn my ultrasound report to shreds right in front of the family at a holiday gala. “I have a congenital motility disorder, Wrenley. If you want to trap me, at least come up with a believable lie.” As the room drowned me in sneering, pitying glances, he gently wiped a tear from Sloane’s eye. It was in that moment I finally understood: for the unloved, even pregnancy is a capital offense. I touched my slightly swollen belly, turned, and jumped off the deck of that super-yacht. “Rhett, since you claim you can’t make a baby, then this one must be a ghost’s gift to me.” Five years later, his miniature clone outbid him for the prime development lot he’d been set on acquiring. Rhett’s eyes were bloodshot as he demanded a DNA test. My son just smiled. “Mister, you’re the one with the broken parts. You couldn’t make a smart kid like me if you tried.” 1 The auction hall went utterly silent. That high-pitched, childish voice was a slap across every face in the room. Rhett, down in the front row, had a face twisted with rage. The bidding paddle in his hand crumpled into a wad of useless plastic with a brittle, snapping sound. He was staring at the small boy in the first row, who was swinging his short legs. A face identical to his, yet it was the ultimate, public mockery. Rhett moved. He lunged over the plush chairs, a killing intent radiating from him. The security guards froze; the guests held their breath. He reached out, his fingers curled into a claw, aiming for the child’s collar. The boy didn’t flinch. He just looked up, his eyes—eyes exactly like mine—filled with chilling indifference. Just as Rhett’s hand was about to make contact, a dark blur erupted from the side. A hand encased in a black tactical glove clamped down on Rhett’s wrist. I put every ounce of my strength into the grip. Veins bulged on the back of Rhett’s hand, and the bones groaned. He tried to shake me off, wincing, but I didn’t budge. He followed my arm up, his gaze slamming into my icy pupils. Rhett’s eyes constricted violently. He stared at my face as if he’d seen a ghost, spitting two words through clenched teeth: “Wrenley Shaw?” Instantly, the room erupted. “Wren Shaw? Rhett Kingston’s ex-wife, the one who jumped off the yacht five years ago?” “I heard her body was never recovered. She’s alive?” “I heard she was pregnant with a bastard child and jumped because she was too ashamed…” The whispers buzzed like a swarm of flies. I expressionlessly ripped my hand away. The force made him stumble back a half step. I leaned down, straightened my son’s bowtie, and stood back up. I pulled off the glove, revealing a palm rough and calloused from years spent in salt water. A deep, jagged scar—the signature of acute decompression sickness—ran across my wrist. I looked Rhett dead in the eye. “Mr. Kingston, you have the wrong person. I’m this child’s father. Not your ex-wife.” Behind Rhett, Sloane Avery gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. “A ghost! Rhett, she’s a ghost!” She scrambled back, trembling, and shrank against Rhett. Rhett instinctively pulled her into his arms, a reflex ingrained in his muscle memory. After he had soothed Sloane, he turned back to me. The initial shock in his eyes had been replaced by extreme loathing. Even after five years, his gaze was a physical stab. Rhett surveyed me, his eyes sweeping over my utility pants and heavy-duty leather boots, finally settling on my son. He sneered. “You didn’t die, but you ran for five years. Did you run out of money? Did you bring the bastard back to shake me down?” His look was the same as one you’d give a stray dog begging for scraps. “Wrenley, is that outfit of yours worth five hundred dollars combined? Did your lover finally get tired of paying your bills?” A few people chuckled nearby. Ignoring him, I took the Rubik’s Cube from my son and placed it on the table. Then, I raised my bidding paddle. My cool, clear voice carried across the hall: “Fifty million dollars.” The room gasped. It was the very piece of land Rhett had to have, and the opening bid was only twenty million. The scorn froze on Rhett’s face. The auctioneer frantically brought down the hammer. A staff member rushed over with the POS machine. I rolled up my sleeve, revealing the vicious scar on my wrist. It was the proof of five years spent fighting for my life. I swiped the card and signed the papers with smooth, fluid movements. “And one more thing,” I said, tucking the black card back into my pocket and looking directly at Rhett. “Mr. Kingston, if you’re not going to use those eyes, you should donate them. Get out of my way.” With that, I took my son’s hand and started to leave. Rhett’s face was dark. He gave a sharp hand signal to his bodyguards. The massive doors slammed shut. A dozen men in black suits sealed the exits. Rhett pushed Sloane aside and advanced on me, step by step, his teeth gritted. “You think you can just walk away? You will tell me who the hell this bastard is.” He pointed at my son, his eyes full of violent intent. “Trying to scam me? I don’t mind verifying paternity right here and now, and making you disappear again.” 2 The waiting room behind the auction stage. A dozen hulking bodyguards had me and my son surrounded. Rhett sat on a leather sofa, his long legs crossed in a display of arrogance. He was turning his signet ring, his eyes narrow and dark. “Talk, Wrenley.” A file was slapped onto the coffee table: the private investigator’s report from five years ago. “Which man sponsored you these five years? Did you use your body to earn fifty million?” Every word was a deep, deliberate wound. Sloane held a steaming mug of herbal tea, her eyes red, the picture of delicate sorrow. “Sister, don’t provoke Rhett. Just tell him who the father is, and the Kingston family will give you a settlement.” Her gaze drifted pointedly toward Rhett’s lower half, her voice dropping, yet perfectly audible to everyone. “After all, everyone knows about Rhett’s diagnosis five years ago.” “To insist the child is his? Isn’t that just twisting the knife in his old wound?” It was a perfectly aimed, brutal blow. My son, Atlas, suddenly laughed. The sound was bright but chillingly devoid of childish warmth. He unwrapped a stick of gum, chewed twice, and looked at Sloane. “Auntie, your perfume is a little heavy. Smells like the industrial-grade cleaner they use in the subway bathrooms.” Sloane’s face stiffened, her tears hanging precariously. Rhett suddenly shot to his feet, raising his hand to slap Atlas across the face. “You ill-mannered bastard! How dare you speak to her that way?” The force in his swing was brutal and unchecked. I snatched my phone off the table and slammed it hard onto the back of his hand. Bang! The phone screen shattered. Rhett’s hand instantly swelled and turned red. He cried out, clutching his hand, glaring at me. “Wrenley Shaw! You hit me for that bastard?” I pulled my son behind me, my eyes cold. “Rhett Kingston, clean up your mouth. Whether he’s a bastard or not—don’t you know the answer yourself?” Rhett’s anger twisted into a laugh, his eyes wild. “Fine! Great!” He roared at the bodyguards. “Drag the little brat out for a DNA test! “I want the results now! I want every person in this city to see whose mongrel child you were carrying! He pointed a shaking finger at my nose, his voice raw. “I will prove my innocence! Prove that I never touched a tramp like you!” To humiliate me, he was willing to publicly declare his own inadequacy. The logic was completely deranged. The bodyguards moved in to grab my son. Atlas didn’t resist. He simply plucked a single strand of hair from his head and offered it. I waved off the bodyguards, took the hair from Atlas, and walked to Rhett. I placed the strand on the coffee table, my eyes regarding him like a piece of trash. “Test it.” My tone was frighteningly calm. “But Rhett, you won’t like the consequences.” Just as Rhett was about to explode again, Sloane gasped and clutched her chest. “Rhett, I don’t feel well. My heart hurts.” Her face went instantly pale, and she slid boneless to the floor. Rhett’s rage evaporated, replaced by pure panic. He shoved me aside, rushing to scoop Sloane into his arms. “Sloane! Where’s your medication? Get the car! Hurry!” He charged toward the door with Sloane. As he passed me, he didn’t spare me a glance. He only tossed back a cold, final order: “Watch this crazy woman and that bastard! They aren’t to leave until the results come back!” Half the room cleared out. I stood there, watching his panicked retreat. It was the same five years ago. If Sloane so much as frowned, the world stopped. Even when I was hemorrhaging in the delivery room. I reached into my bag and pulled out a wrinkled piece of old newspaper—the clipping showing Rhett tearing my ultrasound report in the hospital. I crumpled it into a ball and dropped it into the waste bin. Then, I dialed an encrypted number. “Hello.” “The salvage operation can commence. Bring that item up.” 3 Three days later, the滨海码头. The sea wind was biting. Rhett’s black SUV was parked by the dock. He stood in the wind, clutching the sealed paternity report. Sloane was wrapped in his cashmere overcoat, pressed against him. Her face was flushed, showing no sign of illness. I walked up with Atlas. A bodyguard moved to block me. Rhett waved the manila envelope. His gaze was icy. “You want this?” He pointed to the dark, bottomless water below. “Sloane accidentally dropped the Kingston family heirloom ring. It can’t be lost.” He stared at me, a cruel smile on his lips. “Wrenley, I heard you’re in deep-sea salvage now.” “Since you’re so skilled, why don’t you retrieve it for Sloane?” It was naked humiliation. The late autumn sea water was freezing, and the currents were treacherous. Sloane grabbed Rhett’s arm with fake concern. “Rhett, forget it. “The ring is just a ring. The water is too cold, and Sister is too delicate. Don’t make her go.” She said don’t go, but her eyes were full of provocation and anticipation. Rhett’s face was cold. “It’s your engagement ring. It has to be recovered.” “She’s a professional, isn’t she? If she can’t handle a simple dive, how can she justify that fifty million?” I ignored their performance. I bent down and handed Atlas to my assistant. I stripped off my jacket, revealing the black dive suit underneath. “My terms.” I checked my oxygen tank, my voice sharp and cold. “If I retrieve it, you destroy the paternity report immediately. The Kingstons and I are done. This child will have absolutely no claim on you.” Rhett looked surprised, then sneered. “So eager to destroy it? Looks like you already know the results are shameful. Fine. You have my word.” In his mind, I was desperate and guilty. I put on my mask, bit down on the regulator, and took a running leap. Plunge! I disappeared entirely into the gray-black water. The large monitoring screen on the dock instantly lit up, showing a live feed from the camera on my helmet. My heart rate data was a flat, steady line. Rhett stared at the screen, his brows furrowed. Eight-degree water, and my composure was infuriating him. The visibility underwater was poor. Suddenly, a strong current slammed into me. Someone had tampered with the setup. My supply line jerked violently, and the airflow in my regulator stopped. Suffocation hit me instantly. I looked up. I could vaguely see the operator on the boat deck violently shaking the lines. Sloane had paid someone off. She wanted me dead. On the monitor, my heart rate remained stubbornly stable. I didn’t panic or struggle. Calmly, I reached behind me, cut the main air hose, and opened the small, auxiliary reserve tank. A trick this clumsy wouldn’t be enough. Using the current, I executed a roll, broke free, and plunged straight into the seabed silt. Amidst the tangled scrap metal, a faint glint. I reached out, my fingers clawing through the muck, and seized the ring. My movements were brutal. Three minutes later, the surface broke. I climbed onto the dock, soaked through, my face pale, but my eyes blazing like knives. Rhett looked at me and subconsciously took a step back. I strode directly to Sloane. In front of Rhett, I raised the so-called ‘heirloom’ ring. I squeezed my fingers. A dull, grinding crunch! The jewel-encrusted ring was crushed into an oval shape between my fingers. I tossed it aside. It rolled to a stop near Sloane’s expensive leather boot. “Fake,” I said, pulling off the regulator and smiling coldly. “Just like your person. Copper core under cheap gold plating.” A flake of the ring’s veneer had chipped off, revealing the cheap brass underneath. Sloane’s face went instantly white. She frantically looked at Rhett. Rhett stared at the deformed ring on the ground, then at my water-streaked face. He was speechless. Rhett bent down and picked up the twisted ring. The tarnished brass stung his eyes. His face was ashen. He suddenly whipped his head toward Sloane. The question died in his throat. The colossal LED billboard overlooking the dock suddenly flashed to life. 4 Someone in the crowd gasped: “Is that…?” The screen wasn’t showing an advertisement. It was a live feed from the paternity testing center. On a high perch, my son, Atlas, held a tablet and tapped furiously. He had hacked the dock’s system. On the screen was the director of the testing center, an accomplice I had arranged five years ago. He looked sternly at the camera and broke the seal on the evidence bag. “DNA comparison result: Sample A, Rhett Kingston, and Sample B, Paternity Index 99.9999%.” The director’s voice boomed through the dock’s loudspeakers. “Conclusion: The biological father-son relationship is supported.” The entire dock was dead silent. Then, the conversations erupted, louder than the waves. Rhett stared blankly at the screen, the bronze ring cutting his palm until it bled. “Impossible!” He roared, his eyes bloodshot. “I have a motility disorder! I’m sterile! Wrenley, you forged this!” He was still clinging to that ridiculous lie. I stripped off my soaked dive suit and walked toward him, step by step. I pulled a small voice recorder from my waterproof pouch and pressed play. After a burst of static, Sloane’s tearful voice played: “Rhett, please, my mother will disown me if she finds out I lost the baby and had a hysterectomy. You have to help me.” “If you just admit the problem is yours, Mom won’t blame me.” “You don’t love Wrenley anyway. What’s the big deal if she takes the fall?” Every word in the recording was a fresh slap across Rhett’s face. His face crumbled, inch by inch, until he looked completely devastated. He swayed on his feet. The looks around him shifted from awe to outright contempt. Even his own bodyguards were looking down. Sloane shrieked and lunged at me. “Fake! It’s all spliced together!” She tried to grab the recorder. Atlas spoke coolly from his high perch. “The audio spectral analysis has already been sent to the media. We’ll know if it’s been spliced soon enough.” He paused, then pressed another key. The screen switched to an international birth certificate. “Auntie Sloane, you gave birth to a child named David in California five years ago. You said you couldn’t have children. Whose child is that?” Sloane shook violently and collapsed onto the ground. Rhett looked at her, his eyes filled with the hatred of a man utterly fooled. “You lied to me?” His voice trembled. “You were lying the whole time? “I ruined Wrenley, I ruined my life, for you! And all the while, you already had a child?!” I walked right up to him and reached out to smooth the collar of his shirt, which the wind had messed up. My ice-cold fingertips brushed his skin. He flinched. “Mr. Kingston,” I leaned in close to his ear, my voice dangerously soft. “Your illness was a fake.” “And that ‘unreachable ideal’ you protected for five years? She was screwing around in Europe the whole time. “How do you like that color, Rhett?” Rhett froze, incapable of uttering a single word. Sloane on the ground suddenly let out a frantic scream. She scrambled up and charged madly at Atlas on the high platform. “It’s all your fault! You little bastard!” She grabbed Atlas and hurled him toward the edge of the platform. “Watch out!” I screamed, my voice ripped out of my throat. The boy lost his balance and plummeted toward the black water. Rhett moved. He was closest. As he reached out, Sloane’s foot slipped, and she fell with him. It was the boy or Sloane. In that split second, Rhett made his instinctive choice. He grabbed Sloane’s hand.

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My mother ran The Serenity Creek Clinic her entire life. A simple dose of cold medicine and a consultation? Ten dollars. Maybe less if you were short on cash. When I took over, I honored her teachings, dedicating myself to the health of the community. But the moment I charged a returning local influencer sixty dollars for some specialized GI medication, the entire internet—and the whole village—called me a greedy monster running a predatory practice. Men, women, and children lined up, blocking my door, demanding I refund the money they were sure I’d swindled from them. I granted their wish. I handed back every cent I’d ever collected. Then, I personally locked the doors. “As you all wished, the clinic is closed,” I announced, the finality stinging my throat. “From now on, for your aches and fevers, please drive yourselves to the county hospital thirty miles away. I truly wish you all the best of health.” The very next day, they were back, blocking the door again. Only this time, they were begging me to open up. 1 “Sixty dollars? Are you robbing people?” The speaker was Kinsley “Kinny” Rhodes, a young woman who’d recently returned to Serenity Creek to launch her career as a lifestyle vlogger. She was suffering from minor traveler’s diarrhea—a slight bout of food poisoning. I’d prescribed the most advanced, fast-acting, and gentle medication I could get. “Kinny, the wholesale cost of this medication alone is fifty-five. I’ve only charged you a five-dollar consult fee. That’s more than fair.” “Don’t lie to me!” She waved her phone in my face, the screen glaring. “I just checked Amazon Pharmacy. The exact same script is fifty dollars! Shipped! They’re even running a special. And you’re only charging a five-dollar fee? What about the federal rural healthcare grants for clinics like this? Are you just pocketing the difference?” Grants? I blinked, a bitter laugh dying in my throat. Dealing with that bureaucratic nightmare wasn’t worth the paltry sum they offered. My mother and I had always preferred to run to our trusted supplier—a small, regional pharmaceutical lab—to guarantee the highest quality meds with the fewest side effects. I’d graduated top of my class, turning down offers from major university hospitals. Five years ago, the mayor himself came to me, reminding me how remote we were, how hard it was for the elderly to travel to Oakwood City. I owed them for the kindness shown to my mother and me after my father died young. I’d promised to stay. Five years of service. I pointed to the price sheet taped to the wall. “The cost of every medication is public record. I don’t make a profit on the medicine itself. I’m charging you a five-dollar professional fee.” “Oh, very official.” Kinny folded her arms, a smug smirk twisting her lip. “But that kind of scam only works on people who don’t know better—like these country folks.” She rolled her eyes at me, then shouted to the small group waiting outside. “Hey, everyone! Look what this doctor is doing! He’s price gouging! He’s stealing from the good people of this town!” Heads turned. Eyes focused on me, filled with instant suspicion. Little Jenny, the girl from next door, squeezed through the crowd, puffing out her cheeks and glaring at Kinny. “That’s not true! Dr. Maxwell is nice! Last time I had a fever, he gave me medicine and a lollipop! He’s the best!” A flicker of warmth went through me. I smiled at Jenny. Kinny’s expression darkened. She scanned the barcode on the prescription bottle with her phone, then thrust the screen at Jenny. “Look closely, kid! It’s fifty dollars online, and he charged me sixty! He overcharged by ten whole dollars!” “Little fool! You’re bought for a single piece of candy. When you grow up, you’ll be stupid enough to be taken by a traveling salesman!” “You!” Jenny’s eyes welled up with tears. “Watch your language,” I said, my voice ice cold. “If you look closely, those are two different manufacturers,” I pointed out the flaw in her phone image. “Mine has a superior purification process. It works better, faster, and has fewer side effects. That’s why the wholesale cost is higher.” She looked like I’d just handed her a winning lottery ticket. “See? Excuses! Experts online have already debunked that! The active ingredients are the same, so the effect can’t be that different. You just want to make more money!” She pulled up a short video where a self-proclaimed “medical expert” was passionately ranting about how “high-priced medicine is a scam for the uninformed.” The collective gaze of the townsfolk solidified into judgment. That feeling of being fundamentally mistrusted was sickening. I knew arguing was pointless. I had other patients to see. “If you think they’re the same, then go buy the generic online.” I tried to reach for the box of medication. “I’m not treating you. My clinic doesn’t welcome you. Don’t come back.” She snatched the box to her chest, her face a mask of righteous indignation. “What? Guilty? Trying to destroy the evidence?” “I’m keeping this! This is my proof!” Utterly shameless. My fists clenched in rage. A patient from the back of the line tentatively poked his head forward. “Dr. Maxwell, my head is throbbing. Can you help me?” I stopped arguing with Kinny and simply pushed her toward the door. “Get out.” She left without paying a cent, medication in hand. I thought that was the end of it. The next morning, the moment I pulled up the metal security gate, I stopped dead in my tracks. A wall of people stood before my clinic. The entire town—every man, woman, and child—had shown up. The looks they gave me weren’t the usual warmth and respect. They were filled with anger and contempt. “Give us back our money!” Someone yelled, and the crowd erupted. “Leo Maxwell, give us back the money you overcharged us!” “We trusted you! And all along, you’ve been running a crooked scheme!” I stared at the sea of familiar faces, my mind blank. “What are you talking about? What money?” Mayor Thompson squeezed out of the crowd, his face etched with performative sadness. “Leo, how could you do this to your neighbors?” He held a phone up. The headline was a blazing dagger in my gut: Exposed: The Heartless Rural Clinic—A Vampire in a White Coat, Stealing Even the Change. The author: Kinsey Rhodes. The video was maliciously edited, showing only the moment I took the sixty dollars and the moment I pushed her out. The text was pure, inflammatory fiction, painting me as a greedy, unethical profiteer. The comments section was a savage, digital frenzy. [This doctor should have his license revoked and be jailed!] [Disgusting, preying on honest, hardworking farmers.] [Support the vlogger! The truth must shine!] I was shaking with fury. “This is a lie! She maliciously edited that video!” “In all my years, when have I ever overcharged anyone? I source this medicine at almost cost price, only charging a nominal fee! For people who couldn’t pay, I always covered it myself!” Just then, Kinny Rhodes emerged from the back of the crowd. She held a selfie stick, filming. “See, everyone? This is the face of a guilty, heartless doctor! Still lying!” “If it was such a losing business, why did his family run this clinic for forty years? He’s not an idiot. He’s been quietly profiting and basking in your naive gratitude!” “You let the whole town spin in circles… you’re a hypocrite!” The last word was the match, igniting their stored anger. Mrs. Davies, who I’d given free deep-tissue massage to for her back pain, shuffled forward, pointing a trembling finger at me. “The last time my back hurt, you took half a month to fix me! Were you intentionally using slow medicine just to make me pay more visits?” I froze. I’d used the most gentle, non-invasive method precisely to avoid causing her deeper long-term damage. At the time, she’d held my hand and thanked me profusely. Mr. Henderson shoved his son forward, his face red and distorted. “My boy broke his leg! You set the bone! You must have overcharged me, too! Give me back the money! Or I’ll tear this clinic down!” I remembered everything. His son was hurt late on a Sunday night. I’d jumped out of bed, worked until dawn, and charged him only three hundred dollars for the emergency materials. Then there was Billy, a young man whose life I’d saved. He was now grinning into Kinny’s camera, pointing at me like I was a freak show. “Folks, this is the quack who did the illegal surgery on me!” “My arm still hurts, so it must be his fault! It’s a permanent side effect from his terrible skills!” To save his hand from being mangled in a machine, I had performed emergency, life-saving debridement and stitching—in my unapproved clinic—at a moment’s notice. Now, my act of mercy was his “proof.” “You… you can’t be so heartless!” My mother, Eliza, stumbled forward. Her small, fragile body stood between me and the crowd, shaking with rage. “I know my son! To serve you, he gave up a top job at a major hospital and came back to this poor place. How… how can you do this to him?” No one listened. Their eyes were glazed over with manipulated rage and raw greed. Just then, a car marked “Health and Human Services” pulled up. Several people in uniform stepped out, their expressions severe. “We’ve received multiple public complaints alleging illegal practice and pharmaceutical price gouging.” “You are ordered to close the clinic immediately and cooperate with our investigation.” The comments section on Kinny’s live stream exploded. [The government is here! It’s confirmed!] [Justice served! Lock him up!] Watching the nightmare unfold, I felt dizzy. I took several deep breaths, then walked to the safe and pulled out every ledger and receipt I had from the past five years. “You want proof? Here is your proof!” “These are my inventory receipts and billing records! Look for yourselves!” “Not only have I not made a cent of profit, but I’ve also put over thirty thousand dollars of my mother’s retirement money into keeping this clinic running!” The mountain of receipts and ledgers momentarily stunned the crowd. But Kinny, ever the performer, immediately cut in, her voice shrill. “Who knows if these are real? Receipts can be forged! The only person who knows the real prices is you!” “Go outside! Call Oakwood City Hospital! Find out where their prices are lower than mine!” I shouted, my eyes burning. “These records are stamped and signed by the pharmaceutical supplier! How can they be forged? Go ahead and check!” I thought the tangible evidence would silence them. Instead, Kinny sneered, ready to throw her final, most devastating bomb. “Even if your prices were lower, what gives you the right to use that as an excuse to sexually harass your female patients?” Kinny’s words were a lightning strike. The silence was absolute. She grabbed a woman named Maria from the crowd and pulled her forward. Maria wouldn’t meet my eyes, mumbling in a whisper barely audible: “He… he treated my back last time. He used the massage as an excuse to touch me inappropriately…” The crowd erupted in a furious roar. Mayor Thompson seized the moment, pointing a finger at me. “And who says the amounts on those receipts are real? I heard you’ve been colluding with your supplier, exaggerating the wholesale prices and taking massive kickbacks!” A stranger—a man I’d never seen before—squeezed forward, claiming to be an employee of my supplier. “I can confirm it! The prices on his receipts are all fake! He and our boss have been working together to defraud the community!” The lead investigator from Health and Human Services looked at me, his face grim. “If any of this is true, you’re facing commercial fraud charges. That means jail time.” It was absurd. I pointed to the security camera in the corner. “The cameras will prove my innocence regarding the harassment.” “As for this so-called employee, I don’t know him! My supplier is not the one he claims! You can check my call logs and bank transfers right now!” The investigators immediately split up to verify my claims. Seeing one lie fail, Kinny spun another. “Don’t get distracted, everyone! His most serious crime is practicing medicine illegally!” She pointed triumphantly at Billy. “He permanently damaged Billy’s arm with his shoddy surgery!” Hearing his cue, Billy clutched his wrapped forearm and let out a theatrical yelp. “That’s right! He did an ‘illegal surgery’ in this unapproved office! My wound still hurts every day. It’s a permanent injury he caused!” The investigator’s face was now a mask of deep displeasure. “If the charges of illegal practice and causing bodily harm are verified, your medical license will be immediately revoked!” I tried to speak, but Kinny rushed toward my mother, her eyes full of venom. “Like mother, like son! The old one was no good, so how could the young one be any better?” My mother, already reeling from shock, gasped, her eyes rolling back. She fell backward, straight and stiff.

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On Christmas Eve, I made a wish. In my haste, I accidentally wrote “Satan” instead of “Santa.” The next day, a gorgeous man with crimson eyes knocked on my apartment door. He leaned lazily against the doorframe, his long, slender fingers holding my wish list. “What kind of garbage wish is this?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth. “What does this mean: ‘Your faithful believer wishes for a life of luxury, endless money, and a devoted, domestic malewife to take care of me. Also, please bring one million dollars in cash. Thanks.’” Chapter 1 I opened the door wearing my bear-print pajamas, eyes still crusty with sleep. A man who was at least 6’3″, with a chest that looked like it could crack walnuts, was standing right there on my welcome mat. I rubbed my eyes. I wasn’t dreaming. The handsome stranger looked down at me, his gaze cold and sharp. He clicked his tongue impatiently. “What kind of garbage wish is this?” That’s when I noticed the piece of paper between his fingers. “‘Your faithful believer wishes for a life of luxury… a devoted, domestic malewife… one million dollars…’” Gasp! That was the note I wrote to Santa Claus before bed last night! I was instantly wide awake. Did Santa actually come to grant my wish? “It means exactly what it says,” I said, rubbing my hands together in excitement. “I didn’t realize Santa was such a hottie.” The handsome man didn’t seem to hear my compliment. He looked at me with disdain and said, “So, are you willing to sell your soul to me?” I was too immersed in the joy of winning the lottery to process that properly. “Wait, you can really make it happen?” “Can I add a little more?” I clasped my hands together and bowed piously to the hot guy. “Oh great Santa, I wish for world peace, national security, and a healthy life in my next incarnation…” “Hey, wait, Santa is foreign, right? Do you handle affairs over here in the States?” The man interrupted my rambling. “Why are you talking about that fat old man?” “The most he does is stuff a doll in your dirty sock. That’s for children.” I looked at him, confused. “If you don’t wish to Santa on Christmas, who do you wish to? And why are you insulting yourself?” The man looked at the paper in his hand, then back at me, his eyes filled with a mix of pity and amusement. “So, you’re illiterate.” “Hey! I can read!” “You don’t know who Satan is?” “Yeah, I do. It’s how you spell Santa!” “…That is S-A-N-T-A. You wrote S-A-T-A-N.” I blinked a few times. Finally, the gears turned. “Oh. I made a typo. Sorry to bother you.” Slam. I shut the door in his face, locking the deadbolt for good measure. Chapter 2 Satan? That name sounded familiar. I quickly Googled it. My heart sank. It wasn’t Santa Claus coming to grant my wish. I had summoned the Lord of Hell. And I just slammed the door in his face… My phone started vibrating. A string of anonymous texts popped up: [Now do you know who you made a wish to?] [Scared? Cat got your tongue?] [Tsk, no need to be terrified. Satan doesn’t eat people.] [Are you mute?] I stared at the screen for three seconds, then blocked the number. Chapter 3 Leaning against the streetlamp outside, Satan looked at the red exclamation mark on his phone screen indicating he’d been blocked. He quietly whispered, “What the f…” Chapter 4 This wasn’t just any Satan. This was a highly localized, modern Satan. I paced around my room anxiously. His English was perfect, he texted like a zoomer—he was adapting too fast. I didn’t know if blocking him would work. Would he haunt me? I frantically opened a delivery app and ordered a pile of exorcism supplies. Sage, garlic, holy water, a crucifix, salt, a Bible… I waited anxiously for forty minutes. The delivery driver knocked. I checked the peephole to make sure Satan wasn’t there before opening the door. But the delivery guy looked up, his eyes glazed over, his mouth opening and closing robotically: “Unblock me… Unblock me… Unblock me…” Terrified, I called the building security. The security guard came up, grumbling, but as soon as he reached my door, he got possessed too: “Unblock me… Unblock me…” I screamed. My neighbor opened his door to yell at the noise. He locked eyes with me and immediately joined the chorus. I gave up. Trembling, I pulled Satan out of the block list. Chapter 5 A new message popped up instantly: [You got guts. You dare delete me?] At the same time, the chanting outside my door stopped. I let out a breath. I immediately surrendered via text: [Big bro, please. I was wrong. I’m sorry, okay?] He replied: [You have no manners. If you block me again, I’ll make everyone you touch repeat that phrase forever.] That was too much psychological horror for me. I sent a row of “I’m sorry” kneeling emojis. His mood seemed to improve slightly. [You know who I am now?] [Yes, yes. Lord Satan, sir. Can you go back now? It’s cold out, sorry for making you come all this way.] […You think you can summon me and dismiss me at will?] What did he mean? Was he trying to extort me? I didn’t have anything to give. I gritted my teeth and typed: [If you want money, I have none. If you keep this up, I’m calling the cops.] A cool breeze suddenly brushed past my ear. A deep voice whispered right against my skin: “Since I’m here, I must take something with me.” I covered my ears, squeezed my eyes shut, and screamed, “Murder is illegal!” Satan didn’t appear, but his voice echoed in my head. “What use is killing you? I can grant your wish, you know.” His voice was seductive. “Now, stand up. Go to the door.” Involuntarily, I followed the voice to the door. “Open it.” “The money is outside.”

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The second after my year-end bonus hit my account, a text message leaped into my eyes: “Your account has been charged $20,000. Balance: $0.50. Merchant: [Speed Demon Motorcycles].” Immediately following was a WeChat from my landlord. “Chloe, rent is due tomorrow. With utilities, it’s $1,200.” My hands trembled as I hurriedly called Liam. I heard his excited voice: “Babe, how did you know I bought a new bike? Wait, I’m coming to pick you up right now. Let’s go for a ride!” “Liam, you used our down payment money to buy a motorcycle?” He was completely oblivious to what he had done, just kept bragging about how cool his bike was. I was utterly exhausted. “Liam, let’s break up!” 1 Hearing this, Liam was stunned. His voice on the phone still carried a trace of disbelief: “Honey! Are you crazy with joy? Talking nonsense!” I looked up at the messages on the screen. From 18 to 28, we had walked together for ten years. Countless times I dreamed of having our own home, of making it to the end. For this, I scrimped and saved, buying groceries at the evening market just to save a few cents. But every time there was a little money in our joint account, Liam would spend it. Now, after painstakingly saving enough for the down payment, my dream was shattered in a second. “Liam, do you remember what we agreed the joint account was for?” The other end of the phone paused. “Chloe, I just wanted to give you a surprise. The house won’t run away, but if I didn’t buy this bike now, this model would be discontinued!” “I even joined a biker gang. When we get married, I’ll have the convoy pick you up. Just thinking about it is so cool!” “Gotta go, I’m coming to find you right now!” He hung up first. My heart sank to the bottom. Even through the screen, I could imagine his radiant look. Countless disappointments gathered and condensed in my heart bit by bit, gradually disintegrating my inner persistence. Half an hour later, Liam arrived. He leaned against the motorcycle, wearing a black leather jacket and sunglasses, looking like a bad boy, attracting quite a few girls. “Honey, look, isn’t it cool? I tell you, I’ve looked at this bike so many times, and today I finally got it!” “I even told them…” I wasn’t in the mood. “Enough!” “Liam, I’m tired. I don’t want to persist anymore!” I looked at him calmly. “You knew clearly that I wanted a home! But what about you? You spent all our money. Rent is due tomorrow. Can your motorcycle prevent us from sleeping on the streets?” Hearing this, Liam chuckled: “Just for this? Didn’t you say you could accept a naked marriage?” “Carrying a mortgage after marriage, we won’t be free to go anywhere in the future!” “Chloe Jiang, you said our souls were compatible. Why have you changed now?” “Also, you’re always about daily necessities! Paying rent a few days late won’t kill you!” “Life is short, only thirty thousand days. Why be so tired?” I shook my head. “No need. I don’t want to wait anymore, and I don’t want to be evicted in the freezing cold.” “Liam…” “Alright, I get it. Isn’t it just rent, utilities, and the down payment! I’ll return it, okay!” He kicked the motorcycle as if venting his anger. Looking at him, I only felt like he was a stranger. I turned and left. Behind me came Liam’s roar: “Chloe Jiang!” I didn’t look back. Ten years of relationship, we broke up and got back together many times. Each time, I adjusted my state, wanting to go on together. But this time, I really couldn’t adjust. I glanced at the various renovation materials and renovation influencers on my phone, thought about it, and kept them. Liam didn’t want to settle down, but I did. At this moment, a WeChat from my colleague, Sarah, popped up. “Chloe, about the thing I told you last time, you should reconsider. The salary is 30% higher than now. Although we’ll be in different places, we can still meet during breaks.” The assignment Sarah mentioned, I had politely declined three months ago. Back then, I wanted to settle down here, didn’t want a long-distance relationship. But now, I called back immediately. “Sarah, I agree. Please arrange it for me as soon as possible. If possible, I can go over the day after tomorrow!” On the other end, Sarah was a bit surprised. “Chloe, no need to be in such a hurry. Have you discussed it with your boyfriend?” “No need to discuss. We broke up.” Hearing this, Sarah was silent for a moment before saying: “Okay, I’ll apply for you right now. Once approved tomorrow, you prepare. Report for duty the morning after tomorrow!” I agreed. After hanging up, I took a deep breath. Then thinking of something, I called Liam, but no one answered. Since I was leaving, the apartment had to be returned. “Liam, I’m not living in this apartment anymore. Figure out the rent yourself!” I also messaged the landlord, informing her I wouldn’t rent anymore. As for whether Liam wanted to stay, that was his business. I got up and started packing. The branch company was in the neighboring city, 16 minutes by high-speed rail, not too far. But my time was tight, so I discarded many things I didn’t need. Being with Liam for ten years, we had long infiltrated each other’s lives. It wasn’t that easy to separate clearly. But I didn’t have time. I could only pack my own things and sell whatever else I could. Keeping clothes and daily necessities, other gifts and such were half-sold half-given away. Soon, I received transfers on my phone. The errand runner also came to pick up the items. The living room suddenly became much emptier. It was already early morning when I finished everything. I leaned back on the sofa with a long sigh, my eyes bloodshot. Liam hadn’t come back yet. But I only had five or six hundred dollars in hand. Renting an apartment over there and living expenses, this money wasn’t nearly enough. Helpless, I could only borrow a thousand dollars from a platform. As soon as it arrived, it went into the joint account. The next moment, Liam sent me a message, “Honey, I knew you couldn’t bear it, that’s why you gave me a thousand. Don’t worry, I’ll definitely remember to pay the rent this time!” “I’ve already contacted the landlord. Guaranteed to pay tomorrow.” I subconsciously wanted to deny it, but thinking about it, forget it. If he’s willing, let him live there himself. Anyway, I’m not renting anymore. “Transfer $500 to me, I have an urgent use!” But Liam didn’t reply for a long time. I called, no answer. At that moment, I broke down. Replying instantly when receiving money, but not answering calls or messages when I asked for money. I was furious, but because it was too late, I could only let it go. Luckily, I had enough for the ticket. The next morning, Sarah notified me that the application had been approved. Just report before 10 am tomorrow. But Liam still didn’t reply. Yet I saw his live video on his WeChat Moments. He rode his motorcycle to the winding mountain road, racing with a group of motorcycle enthusiasts. Watching that face flash by in the video, wanton and flamboyant, smiling brightly like stars. The men and women surrounding him all looked at him with adoring eyes. Liam loved this atmosphere. He was the focus of this group, enjoying the pleasure brought by such stimulation. But behind this life was my calculation of every penny. I saved enough for a computer, but Liam took it to buy a DSLR camera in a blink of an eye, saying he could take photos of me when traveling. But in ten years, we almost always traveled short distances to surrounding cities, spending no more than a few hundred each time. That DSLR had long been collecting dust in the drawer. I saved three thousand dollars to pay the deposit, but Liam took it directly to book a luxury cruise trip, saying it was for our seventh anniversary. He held my hand and said: “Chloe, didn’t you always hope we could have a destination wedding? Let’s start with a cruise trip!” That time I couldn’t bear to see him disappointed, so I could only comfort myself that money could be saved again. This time I finally saved enough for the down payment, and the apartment I liked was negotiated to the lowest price, just waiting for the procedures. Liam completely shattered my plan. His future was all about enjoying the moment, never preparing for risks. I couldn’t always be his safety net. I sighed deeply, sent the word “break up” directly to Liam, and blocked him. When I checked out and got on the train with my luggage, Sarah sent me a message with the new company address, reminding me that the company had a dormitory. Rent saved. But just after getting off the train and emerging from the crowded crowd, I found my down jacket slashed. Feathers flew out, and even the phone in my pocket was gone. I broke out in a cold sweat. All information and data were in the phone. More desperately, I hadn’t written down the company address, only knowing it was roughly on Huafei Road. In that instant, I could only go to the railway police to explain the situation. Borrowed their phone to report losses one by one, which took two or three hours. Snowflakes began to fall from the sky. My tears fell involuntarily. The policewoman next to me pitied me and gave me $50. I thanked her profusely, left her phone number, and rushed to the new company. Finally reported and checked in, bought a new phone, and then had time to report safety. Several text messages popped up on the phone. “Chloe Jiang, what are you fussing about! Didn’t I say I would pay the rent? Why did you leave?” “How can you be so cruel? The landlord said you quit the lease. What about me?” “Alright, stop talking. Transfer $800 to me quickly. I want to continue living here.” Seeing this, I calmly turned the phone over and started logging into the computer to recover data. The dormitory had no heating. Except for a bed, there was nothing. Very crude. It was snowing outside, and it was as cold inside as outside. I wrapped myself in the quilt and shrank on the bed, reviewing all the data of the new company. Until late at night, I felt hungry, my nose was stuffed, and my head hurt badly. Seemed like I caught a cold. I ordered medicine delivery online. While waiting, I boiled hot water. Result just plugged in the kettle, the circuit breaker tripped! Sparks flew, scaring me into almost screaming. After pitch darkness, a knock came from outside, “Delivery!” I fumbled to take out my phone and turn on the flashlight. Just opened the door, a figure rushed in, choking my neck tightly.

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It was Christmas, and I was giving my boyfriend a pair of designer cufflinks—the ten-thousand-dollar kind. In return, he handed me a crumpled, bruised apple. Just as I was about to unleash the fury I felt welling up inside, a stream of floating text flashed across my vision: [Don’t look down on it. That’s a Golden Apple; it weighs nearly half a pound.] [The supporting female character is so tacky, measuring everything by money. She’s nothing like our darling female lead, who is so easygoing and just loves to treat the men around her like her personal pets.] [Doesn’t anyone else think this little test is lame? That’s the side character’s boyfriend. Why does the female lead get to egg the supporting male character into doing this?] Reading that, I slowly pulled the cufflinks back into my purse. If he was so eager to be someone else’s lapdog, I’d simply find a new man. 1 When I hesitated, making no move to take the apple from his hand, the disdain in Blake’s eyes deepened. Beside him, his female ‘bro,’ Tatum, roared with laughter, slapping him hard on the back. “See? I told you she wouldn’t take it, but you never believe me. Is this the kind of woman you were willing to break with your family over? You’re losing your touch, bro. Next time you go looking for a woman, run it past your Daddy first.” Blake didn’t flinch from her physical contact. Instead, he pinched her cheek, smiling. “You’re the smart one, alright? But Daddy? I’m three years older than you. If anyone’s calling anyone ‘Daddy,’ it should be you calling me that.” Tatum wrapped her hand around his arm and pretended to bite down, asking with mock ferocity, “Who’s Daddy?” Blake’s smile was painfully indulgent. “Fine, fine. You’re Daddy. Now, let go. I don’t want to get your germs on me. Gross.” Tatum looked genuinely upset. She let out a heavy huff. “You’re grossed out by my spit? We used to share ice cream cones, one bite for you, one for me. You used to steal the part of the apple I’d already bitten! Now you have a girlfriend, and you’re drawing a line? You are such a disloyal dog of a man.” The word “girlfriend” seemed to snap Blake back to reality. He looked up at me. Seeing my expressionless face, he frowned and said, “Don’t overthink this. Tatum and I go way back. We’ve always just been friends.” Tatum glanced at me, then interjected, “More than just friends. We almost got engaged back in the day, but I was young and foolish. I didn’t want to be tied down to marriage, so I ran away. I hid out overseas for seven or eight years. I only came back when I heard he finally had a girlfriend.” The words dripped with calculated venom. Even Blake, for all his indulgence, had to push back. “Don’t say things that will make her misunderstand. We were never engaged. That was strictly a joke between our grandfathers.” Tatum’s face instantly darkened. She was clearly trying to cement her image as the mythic ex, the ‘one that got away,’ combined with the casual ‘bro’ persona, and her lapdog had just debunked it, leaving her scrambling. I couldn’t bear to watch their little dance any longer. I stood up, ready to leave. Blake grabbed my hand, offering the apple again. “I shouldn’t have played that trick on you. This was supposed to be a surprise. Just take it. Feel how heavy it is.” The floating comments reappeared. [Why did the supporting male character suddenly use his words? The female lead’s plan was for her to end up with the golden apple. Did she just speak too much and ruin it?] [The female lead has to step on other people to be the group’s darling. Does anyone actually like this personality?] [That engagement thing was a total lie spread by the female lead. It never happened. She actually fled the country because she lost a massive amount of money gambling.] [It was during that gambling incident that the female lead lost herself to the male lead, kicking off their tormented, dramatic romance.] My gaze fell from the commentary feed to Blake’s face. His light smile still suggested the man who loved me, but his pathetic “test” was a needle, piercing bone and flesh, an ever-present, agonizing sting. The fact that he let the words of a woman who had previously duped him make him question my feelings meant he cared deeply for Tatum and trusted her implicitly. I didn’t need a man who ate from my bowl while thinking about the treats in his pocket. “Keep this kind of surprise for someone else.” I yanked my hand away, turned, and walked out. Blake stared after me, stunned. He instinctively moved to follow and explain, but Tatum blocked him. “Don’t indulge her. This is how women get spoiled.” Her voice was not lowered in the slightest. It was clearly meant for me. 2 I took a deep breath, stopped, and walked back. My hand snapped out, the sound of the slap echoing off her cheek. “Stop with the basic, manipulative, mean-girl BS! You egged Blake on to give me a bruised apple to test if I was a gold-digger, and when I got mad, he was supposed to produce a golden one to confirm that I am greedy. Well, I’m not playing your game. A man is just a man. If he’s rotten, you toss him and get a new one.” Blake, who had been enraged by my hitting Tatum, instantly softened when he heard my words. He scrambled to explain, “That’s not it, Sienna. Tatum was just being playful. She just wanted to see your face when you got the apple…” Smack. I slapped him across the face with my backhand. “I only hit this bitch, I forgot to slap the idiot who was helping her! Are you just a mindless fool who only knows how to drool? This woman destroyed three years of our relationship with a few words, and you’re still trying to roll over and fetch for your master! Get lost. I’m sick just looking at you.” I was shaking with rage. Three years of my life, fed to a dog. Anyone would be furious. A group of people stood nearby, watching the spectacle. They were all mutual acquaintances. Every single face was a mask of shock. It turned out Tatum hadn’t just encouraged Blake to give me unequal gifts; she had invited people from our shared social circle to witness my “gold-digger” moment firsthand, hoping to alienate me from everyone. She was truly vicious. It had taken me three years to fully integrate into Blake’s circle, and she wanted to destroy all that effort with a few sentences. I could walk away from Blake, but the network I had built? I wouldn’t give that up. With that thought, I stopped shouting and turned to leave for good. As I walked out the door, my friend Kylie called. “Babe, are you okay? Someone in the group chat sent a video. They said Blake and his ex, Tatum—the one he still measures everyone else against—ganged up on you. They tried to play a trick, using a cheap apple as a gift, and then tried to stop you from being angry, otherwise, they’d call you a gold-digger.” I felt the sting of betrayal all over again. “I guess people really do change on a dime. Blake used to kneel outside his parents’ house for a day and a night so they wouldn’t give me a hard time about us. That was only three years ago. Now, he’ll treat me like a clown just to make his mythic ex happy. Which version of him was the real one?” Listening to me sob, Kylie fell silent. After a long moment, she finally spoke. “He loved you, that’s true. But that love cannot withstand meeting Tatum. It shatters too easily.” The implication was clear: between me and Tatum, Blake would always choose the latter. I raised my head, forcing the tears back. Crying over that man wasn’t worth the effort. To distract me, Kylie invited me to her family’s party that evening. There was a gift exchange planned. I repackaged the high-end cufflinks I hadn’t given Blake, planning to give them to a more deserving soul. That night. The party was in full swing in the villa’s garden. Kylie had set up a large fire pit, and people were already dancing and mingling. The atmosphere was lively. When I arrived, Kylie grabbed me, pulling me mysteriously into a secluded corner. I started to ask what was going on, but she clapped a hand over my mouth, signaling me to watch the unfolding drama. Not far away, two socialites were bullying a young woman. That was my first impression. The woman was crying, saying, “I’ll pay back what I owe you, I promise. Just give me a little more time.” The taller socialite slapped her across the face and sneered, “You lying tramp! You think we don’t know…” Suddenly, a man appeared, gripping the socialite’s wrist so hard that her face twisted in pain. “Bullying someone back here? I’m recording this. If you don’t want a scene, get lost.” The man threatened them. The socialites instinctively wanted to fight back, but this wasn’t their house. A public incident wouldn’t be good for their reputation. They gritted their teeth and backed down. Before leaving, they glared fiercely at the woman on the ground. The scene played out like a classic trope: the wicked side characters harassing the heroine, and the hero rushing in for the rescue. And, in fact, it was. The woman was Tatum. 3 The comments section lit up again. [Is this Male Lead Number Three? He knows the female lead owes a huge debt to others, yet he shields her. He ends up getting run over by a car for his troubles.] [The female lead deliberately provoked those two side characters, waiting for the male lead to come and save the day, but it was Male Lead Number Three who showed up. The real male lead saw this and walked right past, and the female lead probably hates him now.] [Next, watch the female lead train her new dog. I love this ‘sweet on the outside, dark on the inside’ persona.] Once the bullies were gone, Tatum quickly wiped her tears. Her eyes were full of contempt for the man who had interfered, but that didn’t stop her from standing on her tiptoes and pressing her lips against his. The man was clearly taken aback by the kiss, his body freezing up. Tatum seemed even more delighted by his reaction, and she lingered, refusing to let go. I noticed Kylie quickly typing a text message and sending it. Less than thirty seconds later, a beautiful girl rushed over. Seeing the kiss, the girl shrieked, darted forward, grabbed a handful of Tatum’s hair, and dragged her out into the open. “You filthy slut! Earlier today you tried to sabotage my brother and his girlfriend, getting him laughed at by everyone in our circle, and now you’re trying to hook up with my boyfriend! Any man you see, you have to get your hands on! Don’t think I don’t know about your mother trying to seduce my father—you two are a pair of low-class trash!” The girl was Charlotte, Blake’s biological sister. Tatum was not some secret heiress. She was the daughter of the nanny/housekeeper. Her mother had once saved Blake’s father, and the favor had been passed down to Tatum, giving her the chance to attend the same schools as the Blake siblings, from elementary school right up to college and even her time abroad, all financed by Blake’s father. Strangely, the outside world was always led to believe she was a mysterious young heiress staying with the family. The Blake family never corrected the rumors, partly because Blake was so devoted to her, and partly because of the life-saving favor her mother had done for their father. Charlotte’s scream drew everyone’s attention. The music abruptly cut out. Charlotte was not one to be intimidated. She raised her hand and slapped Tatum across the face. The next second, her arms were seized and held tight by two men. One was her fiancé, Grant. The other was her own brother, Blake. Blake had arrived, too. Seeing the two people closest to her restraining her, Charlotte’s composure snapped. She struggled fiercely to break free, yelling in disbelief, “You’re protecting a promiscuous tramp? What am I to you people?” She had always been composed. When the family’s shady secrets were exposed and reporters hounded her, she had maintained her dignity even in the worst circumstances. But now, she was being driven to madness by the two people she loved and trusted most. Grant frowned, his face a picture of annoyance at her loss of control. “Can you stop this? You look like a lunatic. It’s embarrassing.” Blake looked completely displeased. “We’re at someone else’s house. Can you stop humiliating the family, Charlotte?” Charlotte trembled with rage. The onlookers were staring at her like she was a circus sideshow, making her feel utterly mortified. Splash! A cascade of red wine was poured all over Charlotte. Tatum had done it. Banking on her two new bodyguards, Tatum’s arrogance was on full display. After pouring the wine, she sneered, “If you hate me so much, why don’t you just go kill yourself?” Charlotte was wearing a strapless chiffon dress. The red wine soaked her top half, making her practically exposed. 4 I had only intended to be a spectator, but at this point, I could no longer stand it. I strode forward, swift and precise, and delivered another stinging slap to Tatum’s face. As the sharp sound echoed across the silent garden, I ripped off my jacket and covered Charlotte, whispering, “Don’t cry. Crying in front of people who don’t deserve your tears only makes them laugh harder.” Charlotte and I weren’t close friends, but we had always been cordial, so she was willing to listen to me. She clutched the jacket, violently wiping the tears from her face. When she looked up again, her eyes were resolute. She grabbed the nearest bottle of red wine and poured the entire thing over Tatum’s head. Tatum shrieked, trying to attack us. Kylie signaled to a nearby server, and immediately, two staff members rushed over to hold Tatum down, allowing Charlotte to drench her without hindrance. The bottle was emptied quickly. Blake hadn’t even had time to intervene. Seeing Tatum completely soaked, he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her. Then, he spun around and glared at us. “You two ganging up on Tatum like this is absolutely beyond the pale.” Charlotte ignored him. She turned to her fiancé, Grant, and said, “We’re done. Don’t bother with the engagement party next month.” Grant frowned. “What are you trying to pull now?” Charlotte had been the one to pursue him, so he didn’t believe for a second that she would really let him go. Charlotte pulled out her phone and made a call. “Mom, Dad, I’m calling off the engagement. Send the notification to our friends and family right now. I’ll handle the media myself. Also, I know I said I wouldn’t get involved in the fight for the family inheritance, but I’m joining the competition now. I’d rather fight for control than leave the family to a blockhead who can’t tell right from wrong.” Charlotte was no delicate flower. She was an intelligent, capable woman who had simply been blinded by the illusion of family and love. A small smile touched my lips. I was genuinely pleased to witness Charlotte’s transformation. Grant instantly panicked and started desperately trying to talk to Charlotte. She didn’t even look at him, turning and walking away. Grant chased after her. Left standing there, Blake finally processed what had happened and rounded on me. “Did you encourage Charlotte? She was never this spiteful. Now she’s dumping the man she loved for seven or eight years and trying to grab power—she’s completely changed. Just because we had a disagreement, you’re turning your spite on my family and trying to drive a wedge between us! Tatum was right, I never saw your true colors.” I rolled my eyes. The sarcasm was thick. “T-a-t-u-m w-a-s r-i-g-h-t. If you listen to her so much, why didn’t you go kill yourself? That’s what she just told your sister to do.” Blake froze. At that moment, the music started up again. The atmosphere became even livelier than before. Having watched a magnificent drama unfold, the crowd was now singing, dancing, and trading gossip contentedly. Feeling tired, I headed toward the buffet for a snack. When I looked up, the comments section was back in full force. [The side character is hogging the screen time! The female lead planned all of this just to get the male lead’s attention, and now the male lead is completely focused on the side character.] [Who is the male lead, anyway? Such a mystery. Is he some high-society big shot?] [Haha, you’ll never guess. The male lead is a dealer—a croupier—who is also a small-time enforcer for a dark operation.] [So, this is a Nanny’s Daughter * Black Market Dealer romance?] [The climax is coming soon. The female lead is about to do something shocking to get the male lead’s attention, and he’ll even cover for her.] 5 Reading that, my guard instantly went up. To avoid being vulnerable, I deliberately walked closer to the main fire pit. As my steps quickened, I sensed a shadow behind me. Before I could turn, that person slammed into me. The massive fire pit, three or four meters high, was directly ahead. In the firelight, I saw the motion of the attacker’s shoulder. In a split second, I crouched down low. The attacker, using all her momentum, hurled herself right into the fire pit. The fire pit, due to the collision, tumbled over with a crash. The whole thing happened too fast. People only had time to dodge; no one realized there was a person inside the flames. I stared at the human figure engulfed in the roaring fire. Her hair quickly burned off, and a heavy log had landed across her thigh, pinning her down. Even calling for help was difficult. My scalp prickled with pure horror. If I hadn’t seen the comments, if I hadn’t been vigilant, the person trapped in that inferno would have been me. “H-help… help me…” Finally, someone realized Tatum was in the fire. It took only three minutes, but Tatum was pulled out. Even so, her scalp was severely burned and pitted. Her clothes had melted and stuck to her skin, making it impossible to distinguish which was her skin and which was the charred fabric. Kylie cursed the bad luck and immediately had people rush Tatum to the hospital. Before being taken away, Tatum pointed at me and weakly fabricated her lie: “It… it was her… she pushed me… into the fire…” I opened my mouth to protest, but she passed out. The party ended abruptly, and I became the center of all the suspicion. Blake, who had left earlier to go home and pacify Charlotte, returned after getting a call that I had pushed Tatum into the fire. I ran right into him at the main gate. He stormed out of his car, his face consumed by fire, grabbed my arm, and roared, “Are you crazy? Why would you do that to Tatum? Just because she provoked you, you had to ruin her life? You are truly malicious!” Too much had happened tonight. Having to deal with a man behaving like a rabid dog was the last straw, and I erupted. “You know what? If your damn eyes are useless, donate them! She came looking for trouble, trying to push me in! I dodged, she couldn’t stop her momentum, and she slammed herself into the fire pit! She got what she deserved!” Blake suddenly became frighteningly calm. He stared straight into my eyes and asked, “It really wasn’t you?” His gaze was deadly serious, as if to say, It better not be you, or I won’t spare you, even if you are my girlfriend. In that moment, I felt profound sorrow for the past version of myself who had loved him so deeply. When I met Blake, he was suffering from severe Bipolar Disorder and depression. Even his parents were close to giving up on him. I was a senior in college, working as a caregiver at a treatment center to save money for grad school. Blake was my patient. When I first met him, I felt sorry for him—so young, confined to a facility for two years, rarely visited by his family. As time went on, I felt sorry for myself—having to deal with a person who threw violent tantrums and was constantly suicidal. Our relationship changed during a severe rainstorm. I was mugged on my way home from work. After taking my money, the thugs turned predatory. As I fought for my life, Blake appeared and saved me. He took my phone and repeatedly smashed it onto the thugs’ heads. The men were left unconscious and barely breathing. I wasn’t afraid of that violent side of Blake. It was the first time he hadn’t seen fear in another person’s eyes, and it greatly relieved his psychological burden. After that, he proactively engaged in treatment, and his condition slowly stabilized. He once told me that he was lucky to have met me; otherwise, he would never have been able to live in the light. He said I was his salvation. Yet now, he was looking at me with cold, sinister eyes. I knew he was struggling to restrain himself from hitting me. I forced a bitter smile and decided to draw a line under our relationship. “We’re breaking up.”

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“Comp time? Not right now.” Director Vivian Miller didn’t even look up as she signed the last document and slid it across the desk to me. I stood there, my feet planted. “You still here, Avery?” She finally lifted her eyes. “Vivian, I’ve requested compensatory time off seventeen times,” I said, keeping my voice level, perhaps too level. “Seventeen requests, zero approvals.” “Young people need to build grit,” she said, giving me a dismissive smile. “Let’s talk after the project launches.” After the project launches. She’d said the exact same thing when the last version of the project went live last year. I glanced down at my phone. The log for my late-night hours hadn’t been cleared yet. Three years. Three thousand hours. “Understood,” I nodded, turning to walk toward the door. I stopped with my hand on the cool metal of the frame. “Vivian,” I said, without turning back. “Three thousand hours for zero days. That ledger is balanced in my head.” 1 Working until 2:00 AM wasn’t a novelty anymore. It was just Tuesday. I stared at the lines of code on my screen, my eyes painfully dry. My light was the only one on in the office, the rest of the city outside long asleep. Ding. My phone lit up. A Slack notification. It was from Director Miller: Re-do the pitch deck for tomorrow’s meeting, update the financials to the latest pull. Two in the morning. She was definitely already tucked into bed. I didn’t reply. I just went back to the code. This entire financial settlement system—the front end, the back end, the database architecture—I built it all from scratch. It had been three years, and outside of me, not a single person had touched a line of the core code. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to learn; it was that they couldn’t. Nexus Financial Solutions had fifty employees, and I was the only software engineer. Everyone else was operations or sales. This system carried every dollar of the company’s revenue. If it failed, the entire business would seize up. And that, they believed, meant I couldn’t leave. At 3:30 AM, I finally patched the last bug. Shut down the laptop, locked the door, and took the elevator down. The late-night lobby was deserted. The security guard, an older man named Jerry, was dozing by the entrance. He lifted an eyelid when he saw me. “Late night again, Avery.” “Yeah.” “Your company is certainly dedicated.” I didn’t answer. I pushed the door open to the silent street. Dedicated? My salary: $100,000 a year, unchanged for three years. Overtime: 3,000 hours. Comp time: zero days. Last month’s vacation request? Vivian said, “The project is too busy, next time.” It was always next time. I got home close to 4:00 AM. Lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling. A thought drifted through my mind: What if I just quit? The system would seize up. The financial data would be compromised. The company would have to halt operations. Vivian would panic. That woman, who never seemed to see me, would finally be afraid. I rolled over and closed my eyes. Forget it. Just sleep. Nine o’clock the next morning, I was at my desk. Or, rather, I was at my desk precisely on time and significantly underslept. The moment I sat down, Slack pinged. @Avery Jensen, is the pitch deck updated? I opened the deck, replaced the outdated figures. Ten minutes later, I sent it back. Five minutes passed. Vivian replied: That chart isn’t clear enough. Use a different format. I rebuilt the chart. Five minutes later: The colors are too dark. Lighten them up. I changed the colors. The font is too small. I increased the font size. You know what? The first version looked better. Change it back. I took a deep breath. I changed it back. I was used to this routine. In my three years here, I’d revised over five hundred presentations. Not because I was a great graphic designer, but because the company didn’t have one. Well, it had one. The last admin assistant quit after three months. Her reason: She couldn’t handle the hours. Vivian had spent thirty minutes in her office that day railing: “These young people just don’t have any grit.” I listened from my desk, silent. Grit? Vivian left the office every day at six on the dot. She never worked late. She ignored messages on the weekends, citing, “Family time.” Me? I hadn’t had a single uninterrupted weekend in three years. “Hey, Avery.” Devin, a sales associate, leaned in conspiratorially. “What’s up?” “Heard the news? Annual bonuses are coming out this month.” “I heard.” “What do you think they’ll be?” I shrugged. “No idea.” Devin sighed. “I asked around. Doesn’t sound great. Last year, old man George in Accounts, he hit his quota first. Got an eight-thousand-dollar bonus.” Eight thousand. A year of work, thousands of hours of overtime, top performance, and an eight-thousand-dollar bonus. That was this company. “Seriously,” Devin looked at me. “What are we even doing here?” I didn’t answer. What was I doing here? I wanted to know too. At 2:00 PM, the all-hands meeting began. The conference room wasn’t built for fifty people; the air was thick and stale. Vivian stood at the front, my presentation on the screen behind her. “This quarter, our financial settlement system has maintained stable operations, boosting efficiency by thirty percent,” Vivian rattled on. “This is the result of team effort.” Team effort. The system was solely my work. “And the recent version upgrade, in particular, solved the persistent data latency issue. Client feedback has been stellar.” The version upgrade was the result of two consecutive weeks of late nights. The client feedback email was also one I drafted. “This project was managed by my team,” Vivian looked out at the room. “Of course, Avery provided some support on the execution.” Some support. I clenched my fists under the table. After the meeting, Vivian walked over and patted my shoulder. “Avery, nice work.” “Thanks.” “Keep it up.” She smiled and walked away. Devin leaned over. “Didn’t you build that whole system by yourself?” “I did.” “Then why did Vivian say it was her team’s…” “She’s the director,” I cut him off. “It’s standard procedure.” Devin opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t say anything more. Standard procedure. In this company, everything was “standard.” No overtime pay? Standard. Comp time requests rejected? Standard. Credit stolen? Standard. I watched Vivian’s retreating back, and the thought from last night resurfaced. What if I quit? Maybe it was time to seriously consider that question. 2. Three days later, the finance department had a problem. “Avery, can you step over here for a second?” Brenda, the Finance Supervisor, stood by my cube, her face tight. “What’s wrong, Brenda?” “The numbers in the system aren’t matching up,” she whispered. “Last month’s accounts receivable are short by eighteen thousand dollars.” I frowned. “Short?” “Yes. Can you come look? See if it’s a system bug.” I followed her to the finance office. After twenty minutes of reviewing the data, I found the problem wasn’t a bug. “Brenda, this isn’t an error,” I pointed to the screen. “This transaction was manually deleted.” “Manually deleted?” Brenda was stunned. “By who?” I pulled up the operation log. The user account was clearly visible. It was Vivian Miller’s account. “This…” Brenda glanced at me, then looked away, saying nothing. I remained silent too. Vivian had used her own account to delete an $18,000 transaction. What that implied, we both understood perfectly. “Avery,” Brenda took a deep breath. “Don’t breathe a word of this.” “I won’t.” “I’ll talk to Vivian.” She left. I sat in the empty finance office, staring at that line in the log. A mix of feelings churned inside me. Eighteen thousand dollars. Maybe it was for creative accounting, maybe it was something worse. It wasn’t my problem. But one thing I knew for certain: The water here was a lot murkier than I thought. Later that night, as I worked late, Devin appeared at my cube again. “Avery, did you hear?” “Hear what?” “Vivian is being promoted to Vice President.” I stopped typing. “When did this happen?” “Just these past couple of days. They say it’s because of that financial system project. The CEO is thrilled.” The financial system I wrote. The one she used to score a promotion. “Will that help us?” I asked. Devin shook his head. “I doubt it. But…” he lowered his voice, “I heard a VP starts at two hundred thousand a year.” Two hundred thousand. My annual salary was one hundred thousand. She stole my credit and her salary more than doubled mine. “Got it,” I turned back to the screen. “Go get back to work.” Devin left. I stared at my monitor, my mind blank. Three years. I gave this company the best years of my twenties. I sacrificed sleep, weekends, and solved one impossible problem after another. I believed hard work guaranteed reward. And the result? The rewards were all handed to someone else. I opened my browser and pulled up LinkedIn, starting to update my resume. Three years of developer experience, expert in Java and Python, independently developed a complete financial settlement system. I should be able to find something, shouldn’t I? I clicked “Submit Profile.” The next morning, the moment I arrived, Rhonda, the HR manager, stopped me. “Avery, Vivian wants to see you. Head to her office.” I nodded and walked in. Vivian was sitting behind her desk, a smile plastered on her face. “Avery, come in, sit down.” I sat. “Vivian, what’s up?” “Oh, nothing major,” she flipped through a folder. “Just checking in on your work lately. Anything you’re struggling with?” I was genuinely taken aback. She had never asked about my work before. “I’m fine,” I said. “No issues.” “Good, good.” She set the folder down and looked at me. “Avery, you’ve been with us three years now, haven’t you?” “I have.” “And you’ve performed well consistently.” She smiled. “The company notices.” The company notices. I remained silent. “I talked it over with the CEO,” she continued. “Once this quarter wraps up, we’re bumping you up a pay grade.” A raise? My heart gave a small, traitorous flutter. “How much?” “Five hundred dollars. A year.” Five hundred dollars a year. My three years of grinding, my stolen credit, my rejected comp time—all of it bought me an extra forty-one dollars a month? “So? Satisfied?” Vivian asked, still smiling. I took a deep breath, trying to tamp down the volcanic fury in my chest. “Vivian, I want to apply for my comp time.” Her smile froze. “Comp time?” “Yes. I haven’t taken a proper break in three years. I want to take a few days off.” “That’s… not possible right now,” she frowned. “The project is too busy, it’s not a good time.” “When will the project not be busy?” “In a couple of months, once this quarter is finished.” “You said that last quarter.” Her face hardened. “Avery, what is this attitude?” I didn’t speak. “Young people need to learn how to grind,” she stood up. “Everyone here has put in the hours. Look at the rest of the staff—who is constantly asking for vacation time?” The rest of the staff? The rest of the staff got overtime pay. The rest of the staff got comp time approved. The rest of the staff wasn’t here until 2:00 AM every night. Only me. “Right,” I stood up. “I understand.” “Don’t be upset now,” she switched back to the saccharine tone. “I’ll take you out for dinner once things slow down.” I ignored the offer and turned to leave. Back at my desk, Devin cornered me. “How was it?” “A five-hundred-dollar raise.” “That’s it?” Devin’s eyes widened. “The value of that system is massive! And she gives you five hundred?” “And,” I added. “The comp time was rejected. Again.” “Rejected?” Devin paused. “So what are you going to do?” I looked at the newly updated resume on my screen and clicked ‘Refresh.’ “Find a different company.” 3. Two weeks later, I received my first interview invitation. It was from a larger tech firm, bigger than Nexus. The position was Technical Lead, with a starting salary of $180,000. That was nearly double my current pay. I called in sick for the day to attend the interview. The interviewer was the Director of Technology, a man in his mid-thirties named Mark, with kind eyes behind black-rimmed glasses. “Avery Jensen?” He flipped through my resume. “Three years, and you single-handedly developed a complete financial system?” “That’s correct.” “Walk me through the architecture.” I described the front-end, back-end, database design, and interface logic. He nodded throughout. “Impressive,” he said, then looked at me. “Any questions for us?” “How much overtime is there?” He smiled. “To be honest, yes, we burn the midnight oil when a major release is due. But under normal circumstances, it’s six on the dot. Weekends are sacred. And any overtime worked automatically qualifies for comp time.” Comp time. The phrase sounded like a language from a different universe. “Regarding compensation,” he continued. “We’re offering $180,000 annually, with a standard fifteen days of paid time off. How does that sound?” $180,000. Fifteen days of paid time off. I took a sharp breath. “It sounds excellent.” “Great. Our HR team will finalize the details and be in touch soon.” The interview was over. I left the building and stood on the sidewalk, feeling dizzy. $180,000. Two and a half times my current pay. Fifteen days of vacation. More than I’d been allowed in three years combined. It turned out that at normal companies, employees were allowed to leave on time. They were allowed to take time off. They were allowed to work with dignity. I’d been at Nexus for three years and almost convinced myself that was how the entire world operated. It was time to go. I got back to the office at 4:00 PM. The moment I stepped inside, Rhonda, the HR manager, intercepted me. “Avery, Vivian wants to see you.” Again. I walked into the office. Vivian was sitting there, her face stormy. “Avery, where were you today?” “Doctor’s appointment.” “A doctor’s appointment?” She scoffed. “All day?” “Yes.” “Do you think I believe that?” I said nothing. She stood up and walked around the desk to face me. “Let me tell you something, Avery. You better not try anything stupid. The company needs you right now. If you dare to…” “Dare to what?” I cut her off. “Dare to quit?” She froze. “Vivian,” I looked directly at her. “I have been at this company for three years. Over three thousand hours of overtime, zero comp days. All my credit was used for your promotion. My loyalty earned me a hundred-and-fifty-dollar monthly raise.” “You—” “What do you think,” I gave her a small, cold smile, “I have left to be afraid of?” Her face turned a sickly shade of gray. “Are you threatening me?” “It’s not a threat,” I turned toward the door. “It’s a statement of fact.” “You stop right there!” she shouted. “Avery Jensen, if you quit, I will make sure you never work in this industry again!” I paused at the door. “You’ll make sure I can’t work in this industry?” I turned back, meeting her eyes. “Then I’ll make sure you can’t stay at this company.” The door shut behind me. Back at my desk, Devin looked at me, utterly shocked. “Avery, did you just… fight with Vivian?” “No,” I said. “I just told her a few truths.” “And she…” “She threatened to ruin my career.” Devin sucked in a breath. “What are you going to do?” I powered up my computer and started exporting all my attendance logs onto a flash drive. “I’m keeping my receipts,” I said. “I might need them later.” Devin watched my movements, then murmured, “Avery, are you really leaving?” I didn’t answer. He sighed. “It’s about time. This place is a dead end.” That evening, I got the official offer letter from the new company. Black and white: $180,000 annual salary, start date in one month. I stared at the email, my heart strangely calm. Three years. I was finally leaving that soul-crushing place. But before I did, I had a few things to settle. I opened my laptop and started organizing the evidence. The Slack logs. The three years, 1,095 days, of overtime tracking. The comp time request log. Seventeen requests, zero approvals. The pay stubs. $100,000 a year, never a penny of overtime pay. And the employment contract. I dug out the signed copy and turned to the section on working hours. Plain text: Standard work week, 8 hours a day, 40 hours a week. Not flex-time. Rhonda and Vivian had lied. I organized all the evidence into a password-protected folder. I might need them later. No. I will definitely need them later.

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Everyone knew I had a System. That’s why no one wanted to be “captured” by me. On Christmas morning, I gave my mother a gift. She threw it into the trash without even looking. “Don’t waste your efforts on me. It won’t work.” When my father was attacked by a radical activist, I shielded him with my body. He pushed me into the knife. “Aren’t you trying to capture my affection? Taking a blade for me is the least you can do.” I spent six months coding a VR game for my brother. He loved it, but bragged to his friends: “Of course it’s good, the System made it. Do you think Aria could code something this complex?” Later, I gave my secret diary to my childhood sweetheart, the boy I grew up with. He flipped through the pages, sneering. “What, you think a notebook is enough to capture me?” Time ran out. I failed to capture anyone. The System coldly reclaimed my life. Just when I thought I had truly failed, that no one cared, that no one loved me… That cold System used its last reserve of energy to broadcast my memories across every screen in the city. 1 “She’s dead…” My mother touched my nose, her hand trembling. She stumbled back a few steps and collapsed onto the floor, disbelief written all over her face. “No, impossible. How could she die?” My father and brother couldn’t accept it either. They checked my pulse and breathing multiple times. Even though I had fallen from the balcony hours ago and my body was cold, they refused to believe I was gone. Because everyone knew I had a System. How could someone with a System die? “This isn’t our fault!” My brother pushed my corpse away, his eyes red. “She failed her mission. The System took her life. It has nothing to do with us!” My father nodded frantically. “Right, right. She failed to capture us. It’s not our fault. We just didn’t want to be manipulated.” “Blame her for being a monster. Blame the System!” My mother covered her mouth, sobbing, but nodded in agreement. “Aria, don’t blame us for being cruel.” “Your love was fake. You just wanted to complete your mission and go back to your own world.” “Maybe it’s better this way. At least now… you’re still here. You’re still my daughter.” My soul floated in the air, finally understanding why I had failed. They all knew I had a System. So they rejected my love, thinking it was just a calculated move to gain points. My heart ached to the point of suffocation. Despair filled me. Before I transmigrated here, I was an abandoned orphan. I thought being born into this world meant I would finally have a family. Turns out, they just saw me as a monster hosting a parasite. For twenty years, they never loved me. They guarded against me like a thief, played with me like a clown—giving me a sliver of affection only to stomp me into the mud. I really was a failure. “Host.” The System’s cold mechanical voice rang out. “You are not a failure. And you are not unloved.” A ball of blue light floated beside me, flickering. “Reading Host’s memories…” I froze. “0518, what are you doing?” “Stop! I order you to stop!” The light ball pulsated, and a smiley face appeared on its surface. “Host, 0518 is returning to HQ. Let me do one last thing for you.” The light exploded, blindingly bright. “Memory projection successful.” The light scattered into millions of pixels, raining down on every electronic device below. “No, don’t! Please…” I cried uncontrollably. It had used all its energy to broadcast my memories. 2 “Mom, Merry Christmas.” The TV in the living room turned on by itself. On the screen, ten-year-old me held a gift box, handing it timidly to my mother, who was getting a manicure. My inner voice played over the speakers: [I made these glass rabbit earrings myself. Mom will definitely like them.] The System’s cold voice retorted: [Host, she is not a target. Why waste your effort?] I huffed: [You don’t understand. She’s my mom. She gave birth to me.] [I didn’t have a mom in my last life. Now I do, and I’m so happy.] The System rolled its virtual eyes: [Sure, even though this woman never treated you like a daughter.] As soon as the voiceover ended, my mother on the screen waved her hand, knocking the gift box into the trash. “Don’t waste your efforts on me. It won’t work.” Her eyes were devoid of warmth. “Go play somewhere else. Don’t disturb me.” The manicurist looked at me awkwardly, then wiped off a smudge on my mother’s nail. I stood there, stunned. Then, tears began to fall. [See? I told you not to waste time on her. She’s cold-blooded.] “No! I’m not!” Outside the screen, my mother screamed. “Who turned on the TV? Turn it off! Turn it off!” She yanked the power cord, but the TV kept playing. “Mom, what did I do wrong? Why do you hate me so much?” Little me couldn’t help but ask. Why? I remembered when I was born, she loved me. She said she’d give me the best of everything. But something changed. Her love vanished, replaced by hatred. [Host, stop wasting time on this woman. She’s not worth it.] “Shut up! I didn’t! I’m not…” My mother’s face was a mix of colors. But I noticed something—she was more angry than guilty. Probably because the System said she wasn’t a “target.” She was proud. She couldn’t accept being irrelevant to the mission. “What is going on?” My father’s face was dark. He grabbed a vase and smashed the TV screen. It finally went black. Just then, his assistant called. “Mr. Vance, it’s bad. A video is being broadcast across all platforms.” “Views have already hit 100 million!” Such high views weren’t just because of the System. My mother was a famous retired actress. People cared about her life. “What? Impossible!” My father’s eyes filled with murderous intent. “Aria was so dependent on her mother. How could she do this after death?” “Find out who is behind this!” My mother found her phone. It was blowing up with calls from her agent and PR team. Her social media was flooded with hate comments. Wow, the great actress acts like a diva even at home? Speechless. That’s her own daughter. Even if it’s scripted, that’s too cruel. “Ahhh!” “Aria, I want you dead!” The mother I relied on, seeing her reputation crumble, grabbed a vase and smashed it onto my corpse. My heart seized in pain. Mom, I’m already dead. Even if you smash me into paste, I won’t die again. “Enough.” My father pulled her away. “You’ve been retired for years. It doesn’t matter.” But he didn’t expect the video to cut to him. 3 When I was sixteen, my father was targeted by a radical activist with a knife. In the video, my father was pushed to the ground. The man stabbed him in the leg. My mother and brother screamed and ran, trying to get as far away as possible. It was me. I was shaking with fear, but I rushed forward and pulled the attacker away. “Dad, are you okay?” My face was young, streaked with tears and snot as I called 911. “Ambulance! My dad is…” Before I could finish, my dad used his good leg to kick me. I stumbled right into the attacker’s path. The knife went through my shoulder. My father’s pupils constricted as he watched the screen. He muttered to himself, “Aren’t you trying to capture me? Taking a blade for me is only right. Yes, it’s only right.” I ignored his mumbling. I only heard the System’s panicked voice. [Host!] [Quick! Use points to buy the healing spray!] I endured the pain, sighing in relief only when the attacker was subdued. [No.] I said: [Points are low. Save them for Dad’s leg.] The System was furious: [The points he provides aren’t even worth the cost of the spray! You are wasting resources!] In the chaos, I sprinkled the healing powder on my dad’s wound, my face pale. [0518, you don’t understand. He’s my dad.] He was my dad. My hard-won family. What child doesn’t love their parents? I always believed they didn’t like me because I wasn’t good enough. Because I was weird. So I tried so hard. Not for the mission. But because they were my blood. I never imagined they hated me enough to wish me dead. Just because I had a System, they treated me with the utmost malice. The comments were exploding. The incident where the CEO of Vance Corp was stabbed had been huge news. Everyone realized this wasn’t CGI. It was real footage. WTF? He pushed his own daughter into a knife? Is he human? As a mother, I can’t watch this. He’s an animal. She gave him the only medicine she had, and he did that? Even a stranger deserves better. So what if she has a System? The family benefited from it! These people should rot in hell! My father threw his phone to the ground. “Haven’t you found the source yet?!” Even now, he was just angry, not panicked. Until the video cut again, showing a sweet, cute girl. My father’s face changed instantly. “Quick! Pay them whatever they want! Take the video down!” He looked at my corpse with red eyes, wanting to kill me all over again. I could mess with them, but touching their precious darling? They would fight me to the death. Even though I knew this, my heart still ached. My parents weren’t incapable of love. They just didn’t love me. They loved someone else’s child. In the video, the girl skipped into my mother’s arms. “Auntie, Bella missed you so much!” My stoic father smiled. “Oh, so Bella doesn’t miss Uncle? Guess I can’t give you this sapphire bracelet then.” Bella’s eyes lit up. “I miss Uncle the most!” My brother pulled out a gift box. “Oh? You miss Uncle the most? Then this limited edition LV bag…” Bella turned and hugged my brother. “Ethan! Bella misses you every day!” My mother giggled. “This child is incorrigible.” I hid in the corner, like a stray cat watching a house cat’s happiness. Bella was my cousin. And the protagonist of this world. 4 The internet went wild. That’s Bella Summers when she debuted! Didn’t she say she came from a humble background? She’s the niece of the richest family in the city? Is anything real anymore? Bella was from a humble background. In the original plot, Bella’s mom married a commoner. My mom, ambitious, married into money and cut ties with her sister. Originally, Bella’s mom would die of illness, and she would suffer under a stepmother before meeting the male lead and growing strong. The Vance family and the male lead’s family were rivals. My family would suppress Bella, leading to a torturous romance. But I thought Bella shouldn’t suffer. In the book, she was strong and optimistic. A lotus in the mud of the entertainment industry. So I changed the plot. I reminded Bella’s mom to see a doctor before her illness became fatal. Because of this, her mom lived. Bella started visiting the Vance family. She won over my parents and thrived in the industry. But she was jealous of me. In the video, Bella saw me hiding and smirked. “Cousin Aria, why are you hiding? Aren’t you going to welcome me?” “The Vance family is elite. Don’t you think looking so timid embarrasses Auntie and Uncle?” My mom scoffed. “I don’t know what sin I committed to give birth to her. If only she was half as sensible as Bella.” My dad looked at me coldly. “What are you staring at? Get out here.” My brother sneered. “Dad, forget it. She dresses so ugly. Don’t let her ruin our appetite.” Bella’s parents and her agent were there too. Seven or eight pairs of eyes judged me. Back then, my face burned with shame. Now, floating in the air, my soul felt transparent from the pain. I was their flesh and blood, but they loved another. They trampled my dignity into the dust. The internet was in an uproar. My family was frantic. “Why can’t we shut it down?! What is the IT department doing?!” Mom was tearing her hair out. “I knew Aria was evil! She recorded everything!” “Good thing she’s dead. Otherwise, we’d have no privacy!” Dad roared, “It’s your fault! You insisted she stay. I said send her abroad!” Mom retorted, “She’s weird! If she was outside, who knows what trouble she’d cause with that System!” Brother nodded. “Mom’s right. With that System, she’s dangerous.”

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After three years of chasing Lucas, he finally agreed to date me. But everyone knew he still wasn’t over his last relationship. The first time we had a fight, I left in a fit of rage late at night. I got into a car accident and lost my memory. In the hospital room, Lucas gave me a phone number. “This is your boyfriend, Archer’s number.” I believed him. He sighed in relief, as if a heavy burden had been lifted. But later, he crashed my wedding to Archer. He stubbornly gripped the hem of my wedding dress, refusing to let go: “Don’t marry him, I’m begging you.” Chapter 1 On my fifth day in the hospital. Lucas came again. Unlike previous days, today he handed me a slip of paper with a phone number. “This is your boyfriend, Archer’s number.” Lucas kept a straight face. “Before the accident, you two had a fight, and you deleted all his contact info.” “Did we break up?” If we didn’t break up, why hadn’t he come to see me after all these days in the hospital? Lucas said, “That’s between you two. I’m an outsider, I don’t know the details.” Just as I was about to speak, the door pushed open. A tall, lean figure walked in. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs. The tailored shirt and trousers outlined a physique with perfect proportions. He was literally walking pheromones. I stared blankly as he leaned in close to my face. “Heard you broke your brain?” Wait… “Who are you?” “Archer.” My feelings were complicated. I asked Lucas, “Is he really my boyfriend?” Archer paused, looking at Lucas. Lucas stared back at him intently, but spoke to me: “Yes, he is your boyfriend.” Archer narrowed his桃花 eyes (peach blossom eyes – charming eyes). A moment later, he let out a scoff. “I am, indeed, your boyfriend.” I don’t know if it was my imagination, but after Archer said that, Lucas seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “When are you being discharged?” Archer asked again. “Tomorrow.” Archer’s eyes filled with amusement. “Then I’ll come pick you up tomorrow, girlfriend.” The last word curled up at the end, carrying an endless, lingering charm. I suddenly blushed, my heart racing. “Hazel…” Turning my head, I met Lucas’s displeased gaze. I restrained my smile. “What’s wrong?” He pressed his lips together. “I’m getting engaged in a few days, I can’t pick you up tomorrow…” I nodded understandingly. “My boyfriend is here, you go busy yourself with your stuff.” Chapter 2 The next afternoon, Archer came to pick me up. He helped me pack and handled the discharge paperwork. He was outrageously considerate. He took me home—to his home. Looking at the brand-new toiletries in the bathroom, I asked puzzledly: “Why is everything new?” He answered leisurely, “The day we fought, I threw out everything related to you.” The corner of my mouth twitched. “So are you over being mad now?” He nodded, then shook his head. “What does that mean?” He lazily lifted his eyes. “You’re already like this, I have no choice but to forgive you.” I paused. “Did I start the fight?” He didn’t speak, just looked at me silently. His gaze made me feel guilty, and I didn’t dare meet his eyes. Finally, I cleared my throat and turned toward the walk-in closet. “Let’s let bygones be bygones. We’ll get along well from now on.” Opening the closet door, I discovered it was full of new clothes with tags still on. From inside out, everything was there. The entire closet was new. I tried to hold it in, but couldn’t. “Archer, why didn’t you throw yourself out too!” He looked blank. “What?” “You threw out everything I touched. I’ve touched you, why didn’t you throw yourself out?” Archer seemed to just realize what I meant. In an instant, he turned his face away unnaturally, a flush creeping up his ears. After a while, a magnificent voice came: “You haven’t touched me.” I shook my head without hesitation. “Impossible.” He was grown exactly to my aesthetic preferences. I only lost some memories, I didn’t become stupid. With such a handsome man in front of me, I couldn’t possibly sit still and be a saint. The more I thought about it, the more wrong it felt. I asked: “Archer, is it that you… can’t perform?” “What are you saying!” Archer grabbed a set of pajamas from the closet and shoved them at me. “Go wash up, I’ll make you something to eat.” He left immediately, giving me no chance to react. At night, when it was time to sleep. I waited and waited, but Archer didn’t come to bed. Walking out of the room, I found out he had already gone to sleep in the guest bedroom! When I pushed open the guest room door, he was just about to take off his pants. The moment our eyes met, he quickly pulled his pants back up and even wrapped a bathrobe around himself. Tsk. Living together and he’s still guarding against me. I walked over silently, lifted the quilt, and burrowed in. Archer was dumbfounded. “You, you, you…” I patted the spot beside me. “Come here.” He didn’t move. “Aren’t you going to sleep?” I asked. He stared at me, looking like he wanted to say something several times but stopped. “Are you scared? Or is it that you really can’t perform?” Archer finally moved. He walked to my side, wrapped me up like a burrito with lightning speed, and carried me back to the master bedroom. It wasn’t until I heard the door close that I realized my boyfriend might really have a problem. In the middle of the night, while sleeping groggily, Archer came into my room. He lifted my nightgown and did all sorts of bad things. He teased me until I was parched but refused to give me relief. I cried out in anger, “Archer, I’m breaking up with you! I’m finding a man who’s better and more capable than you!” He bit me fiercely. “You dare!” “Hmph, watch me! Get off!” I kicked out, but kicked empty air. The huge movement woke me up. Looking around, it was broad daylight. It turned out to be just a dream. Outside the door, Archer was knocking. “Get up for breakfast.” Ten minutes later, I sat at the dining table. He had buttoned his shirt all the way to the top button. Looking serious like an old veteran cadre. Clearly, the last two times I saw him, he didn’t button up properly, and I could faintly see the pectoral muscles under his shirt. The more I thought about it, the more unwilling I was. “Archer, how about I make you an appointment with a urologist?” Archer suddenly started coughing violently, unable to stop for a long time. I handed him a glass of water and said slowly: “Don’t worry, as long as you can be cured, I won’t despise you.” Archer coughed until he could barely breathe. I quickly patted his back and gave him water. After bustling for a while, he finally stopped. “I am very healthy.” Before I could question his words, he added, “Today is Lucas’s engagement party. Come with me.” Chapter 3 We arrived a bit late to the engagement party. Archer insisted I dress to the nines. I really shouldn’t have listened to him. As soon as we appeared, almost everyone’s eyes fell on me. I was a bit uneasy. “Archer, why are they all looking at me?” Archer curved his lips. “Because you’re beautiful.” I wasn’t used to such occasions and excused myself to the restroom. As soon as I entered a stall, voices sounded outside. “I can’t believe Archer actually brought Hazel here. Isn’t this blatantly embarrassing Lucas?” “It was supposed to be Hazel and Lucas’s engagement party. Who knows what kind of scene she’ll make when she gets her memory back.” “What can she do? Lucas doesn’t love her, otherwise he wouldn’t have temporarily changed his fiancée.” “Blame Hazel’s bad luck. Getting a head injury at this critical moment gave Chloe a chance.” “But why is Archer with Hazel? They’ve been enemies since childhood. Now that she has amnesia, they’re together?” “Who knows, maybe Archer is just playing with her.” “I guess so. Archer once said he wouldn’t marry Hazel even if she was the last woman on earth.” “Alright, stop talking. Walls have ears.” Silence fell outside. I stayed in the restroom for a long time. When I came out, I saw Lucas. His eyes were deep. “You just got out of the hospital, why didn’t you rest at home for a couple more days?” “Thanks for the concern, I’m fine.” I tried to walk around him, but he blocked my path. “Hazel, did you hear anything today?” “You mean about Archer and me being enemies? Enemies can bury the hatchet. Besides, I like him quite a bit now.” “You don’t like Archer.” I was puzzled. “You’re not me, how do you know I don’t like him?” Lucas realized he misspoke and tried to recover: “That’s not what I meant, it’s because… before you lost your memory, you told me you didn’t like him anymore.” “Hazel.” Lucas’s brow showed a hint of coldness. “You can’t remember the past now. As a friend, I suggest you take this opportunity to break up with Archer.” Just as his voice fell, a scoff came from the shadows nearby. “Lucas, that’s not very nice of you.” Archer stepped out of the dark, his long legs bringing him to my side in two strides. “Haven’t you heard it’s better to tear down a temple than ruin a marriage?” Lucas: “You’re not married yet.” Archer took my hand. “Sooner or later.” He checked the time. “We have other things to do, we have to go. Oh right, happy engagement. May you be together forever.” With that, he pulled me away quickly. In the car, buckled up. Archer said, “I’m taking you for a ride.” He just went. Floored the gas pedal onto the highway. I was tense all over, clutching the seatbelt, not daring to make a sound. I should have known better than to get in his car. Yet Archer didn’t realize his problem, relaxed as if he were riding a bike in his backyard. The car sped on the highway for an hour, finally slowing down and stopping on a beach. I quickly pushed the door open and got out, gasping for air. Archer walked to my side, smiling. “Carsick? Shouldn’t be.” I ignored him. He took two cans of beer from the trunk, sat on the sand, and waved at me. I couldn’t believe it. “You raced here just to drink?” “Alcohol adds to the fun, didn’t you know?” After a moment of silence, I sat next to him. Just as I reached for a beer, he snatched it away. “You just got out of the hospital, you can’t drink. I’ll drink it for you.” Chapter 4 The consequence of letting Archer drink was that I had to drive for two hours like I was facing a formidable enemy. Archer seemed to have drunk too much, stumbling when he got out of the car. Out of pity, I went up to support him. Entering the elevator, Archer extended his long arm and clasped my waist. That captivating face was inches away, adding a bit of charm due to the drunkenness. I inexplicably swallowed. Unexpectedly, Archer caught it all. “Look good?” His rich voice carried a hint of tenderness. I looked away and pushed him. He remained motionless. When the elevator door opened, he suddenly bent down, picked me up bridal style, and headed straight for the master bedroom. I was startled. “Archer, what are you doing?” He put me on the bed, supporting himself with hands on either side of me. “Date, drink, sleep. Can’t miss one.” My mouth twitched fiercely. I kicked his calf. “Go shower first.” He got up and scooped me up along with him. “Together.” Just as we reached the bathroom door, my phone rang. I patted him. “Put me down.” Archer was unmoved. “Calls at this hour aren’t worth answering.” Inside the bathroom, he placed me on the vanity counter and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. The phone ringing outside stopped abruptly. A few seconds later, Archer’s phone rang. He took the phone from his pocket, hit answer and speaker, and set it aside. “What’s up?” Only the sound of our breathing filled the spacious bathroom. I could hear Lucas’s voice clearly. “Where did you take her?” Archer unbuttoned the last two buttons of his shirt while saying, “Couple stuff. Mind your own business.” Taking off the shirt removed the obstacle, revealing defined abs. I couldn’t resist and put my hand on them. But just as I touched his chest, he caught my hand. The man’s voice was low: “Don’t rush, wait until I finish the call.” As soon as he finished speaking, Lucas’s furious voice came from the phone: “What are you doing!” He ignored Lucas, looking at me, smiling like a rogue. “Want to verify if I can perform or not?” I subconsciously gripped the hem of my dress. “Then you…” “No! You can’t! Hazel, come out, I’m coming to pick you up right now, you can’t be with him…” The voice cut off. Archer hung up the phone. I was a bit puzzled. “Lucas seems very opposed to me being with you?” “Because he’s jealous I have such a beautiful girlfriend.” He slowly leaned in, warm breath spraying on my face, tickling. I instinctively dodged to the side. Unexpectedly, big hands turned my face straight, and an overwhelming kiss fell. He had absolutely no technique to speak of. Even so, my heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest. I don’t know how long it passed, until I could barely breathe, the doorbell rang. Archer let go of me, his black eyes tainted with emotions I couldn’t read. My dress had been pushed up to my waist at some point, the ironed fabric now wrinkled beyond recognition. I gave him a ghostly glare. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he was about to kiss me again. Just then, the knocking outside was deafening. There was a stance of not giving up until the door opened. Archer was displeased, but he pulled my dress down. “I’ll go check.” I heard Lucas’s voice. But it wasn’t convenient for me to go out looking like this, so I waited quietly for Archer to come get me. Not long after, Archer returned. He said, “I’m going out for a bit. Wait here for me like a good girl.”

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The annual St. Jude’s Medical Center Donor Appreciation Gala was supposed to be a night of champagne toasts and polite applause. Instead, it became the place where my world shattered. Dr. Thompson, the Chief of Staff, beamed from the podium. “Dr. Eleanor Stone is truly the epitome of altruism,” he announced, his voice ringing through the ballroom. “To personally coordinate with the Organ Distribution Center, ensuring her daughter’s perfectly matched donor heart went to a financially struggling young man… It’s a lesson in what it means to be a healer.” I was still innocent enough to try to defend her. “Dr. Thompson,” I said, my voice barely a breath. “My mother is meticulous about procedure. She would never pull strings for a patient to jump the list.” My disbelief seemed to shock him. “But didn’t she clear it with you? The recipient was a perfect match, same as yours, just behind you on the registry. Dr. Stone personally went to bat for him.” “She said her own daughter, you, could afford to wait. That the other boy’s family was about to lose their low-income housing, that his life was literally burning through their last few pennies.” I slowly turned to face my parents. My mother, Eleanor, gripped her champagne flute like a weapon. “Scarlett, that child’s family is absolutely destitute. They couldn’t wait any longer,” she pleaded. “It’s different for you. Your father and I are doctors. We wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” Anger, sharp and hot, instantly incinerated my logic. Tears spilled over. “I see! So being your daughter means I don’t even qualify for fair treatment on a waiting list!” I choked out. “Maybe I should have been an orphan then. Then I could have had my surgery, too, right? Maybe even gotten the heart you stole!” 1 I turned to leave, but Dad, Dr. David Stone, blocked my path. “Scarlett, what is this attitude? Do you know what your mother sacrificed, the time she poured into Finn? If he doesn’t get that heart, he won’t make it to his nineteenth birthday!” I stared at my father, dumbfounded. So this was it. My life was so cheap to them. They were only afraid a “penniless student” would die in their ward and tarnish the hospital’s reputation. Mom tried to grab me. “Leaving in the middle of this is inappropriate! We’ll discuss this at home.” Colleagues who’d heard the commotion crowded around, half-begging, half-forcing me back into my seat. The fear and resentment I’d repressed for two years finally erupted. Gasping, I pointed at Mom, my voice raw and broken. “He can’t wait? Do you think I can? Just because he’s poor, he’s pitiable, and he’s your public relations poster child, he gets to jump the line? He gets you to pull strings to snatch my heart?!” “What about me! I’m your daughter! I’m only twenty-four! I haven’t graduated, I haven’t seen the Rockies or the Atlantic! Tell me, what part of me is less deserving of life than him?” “Just because you gave birth to me, I deserve to stand behind everyone else? I deserve to die for your damned ‘Principle of Avoiding Suspicion’?” The collapsing shriek echoed in the silent hall. Mom trembled with rage, her hand raised as if to strike me, but she slammed it onto the table instead. “That’s enough! You are out of line! Apologize to Finn O’Malley immediately! Do you have any idea how much psychological stress these comments will put on his recovery?” Finn’s mother, Maureen, fell to her knees with a thud, bowing her head to the floor. “Oh, my sweet girl, I’m so sorry, forgive us… We’ve dragged Dr. Stone into this, we’ve stolen your chance… Please, hit me, scream at me, but don’t blame her. She’s a saint, an absolute saint!” The whole scene was an absurd nightmare. And I, apparently, was the petulant brat in the dream. I watched Mom rush over to help the dark, thin woman up. I saw the undisguised disappointment on her face. I laughed then, tears streaming down my face as I did. “Fine. Fine… He is your patient, your responsibility, your salvation.” “And me? What am I?” I looked at Dad. His eyes were red-rimmed, but he remained silent. “You won’t touch your savings for my treatment—under the beautiful principle that the hospital must not play favorites, must not accept gifts.” “The truth is, you never planned for me to live at all. You were just waiting to use my donor for someone else’s son!” When I was queuing for my own surgery, I hadn’t even dared to ask for a private room, terrified of the gossip. Yet for someone else, she could leverage years of professional connections to steal the lifeline that should have been mine! I pushed away the hands trying to hold me, ignored the familiar, sharp pang in my chest, and walked toward the elevator. “From today forward, whether I live or die has nothing to do with you. Just go back to protecting your Hippocratic Oath, and your patients who are more ‘worthy’ of being saved!” Behind me, I heard Mom’s furious shout, Dad’s anxious cry, and the strangled sobs of Finn’s mother. The elevator door slid shut, cutting off the noise. I took a cab back to the university. My phone vibrated ceaselessly the entire ride, a flood of missed calls and messages. The first was from Mom: Mom (Eleanor): Scarlett, you embarrassed me tonight. That boy is barely nineteen, and his family is on welfare. We had to do this. He had nothing. You’re our daughter, you need to be the bigger person. Scrolling down, there was Dad’s: Dad (David): Scarlett, Finn is different. He’s alone. He’s already attempted suicide twice since his diagnosis. Your mother couldn’t just stand by! Dad (David): You’ve created a scandal. The whole hospital knows now. How do you expect your mother to lead her department? Come home and apologize! I deleted the rest without reading them. When my roommates learned what happened, they were furious on my behalf. My nose started to sting. Strangers could feel sympathy for my plight. Why did my own parents insist on making me feel like a burden? I stayed at school for two days. The moment I turned my phone on, I accidentally answered a call from Uncle George, my mother’s brother. “Scarlett, how could you be so difficult? You’ve upset your parents terribly. Running away from home?” “I’m not trying to lecture you, but you’re breaking your mother’s heart. She’s a doctor, it’s her calling to save lives. How can you blame her for this?” He droned on about Mom’s sacrifices. “Your mother just saw a vulnerable child and wanted to save his life. As her daughter, you should be supporting her.” I waited until he paused, shaking my head to reassure my worried roommate. Uncle George’s voice grew quieter. “Uncle George, do you remember what the specialist said when I was diagnosed at twelve?” “I… I remember.” I cut him off. “The doctor said twenty-four was my absolute limit for the surgery.” “I’m halfway through twenty-four now.” He went silent. “I waited twelve years, Uncle. I finally got a 92% match, and my own mother, my biological mother, personally diverted it to someone else.” “For her, the Hippocratic Oath is a higher priority than her daughter’s survival.” “If I, her daughter, have to be careful to ‘avoid suspicion,’ why doesn’t the patient she saved need to? That’s what they call virtue, I suppose.” My voice dripped with sarcasm. Mom has helped many needy patients, but Finn was her biggest personal investment. To him, she was the compassionate Dr. Stone, the “Most Beautiful Doctor” plastered all over the local news. But to me, she was a failure of a mother. A person’s heart is only so big. If it’s filled up with patients, how much room is left for family? Uncle George stammered in defense. “Your mother is just doing her duty. You should understand her the most…” A sharp pain clenched my heart. I pulled out my pill bottle and swallowed two tablets. “Uncle, do you know why my mother never let me visit her department?” “Why?” “She was terrified of the optics—of colleagues saying she was abusing her power, of patients thinking she was prioritizing her own child. So my medical records are at a different hospital. My primary doctor doesn’t even know I’m Dr. Stone’s daughter.” “Finn’s surgery, however? She performed it herself. She will personally follow up on every one of his post-op scans.” “Tell me, Uncle. Who looks more like her biological child?” The line went quiet, only his breathing audible. After a long moment, he spoke again. “Don’t talk like that, Scarlett. Your mother does care about you…” “Where is my place then? On which page of the transplant waiting list? What number room on her daily rounds?” “I am her daughter, yet I can’t even receive fair access to medical care. Why? If being someone else’s child is the only way to get a break, then I’d rather have no connection to this family at all!” The voice on the other end changed. It was Mom. She had been listening the whole time. “Scarlett, can you not see the bigger picture? Finn genuinely couldn’t wait any longer!” I countered, “And me? How long do I have? When will the next matching donor appear? A year? Two? Five?” “You…” “As a hospital administrator, you know better than anyone how scarce heart donors are. The average wait time is 3.8 years. I’ve already waited twelve.” Mom’s voice was still unnervingly calm. “Medical resources are finite. They must be allocated to the most critically urgent patient first.” I nodded. “I know. You’re the department head, Dad’s an administrator. Your professional ethics, your medical resources—you can give them to whomever you like.” “Then my life, my choices, are mine to make, too.” I hung up and powered down the phone. With my transplant opportunity stolen, I was forced back onto the waiting list. But my condition wasn’t waiting. The symptoms of heart failure were growing more severe. My doctor suggested an implanted cardiac assist device. The cost was astronomical. Even after insurance, I would have to pay a six-figure sum out of pocket. I’d intended to ask my parents for a loan, but they would rather pull strings to steal a heart for a patient than break their own rules to save their daughter. I had to figure it out myself. My academic advisor, worried I was an unstable presence, asked if I wanted to take another leave of absence. I moved out instead. Short on cash, I could only afford a room in a dilapidated, multi-tenant complex in a forgotten corner of the city. A young woman in the building took pity on me and offered to let me join her streaming business, selling goods online. I began working frantically, desperate to earn enough money to survive. A month later, my parents saw me online. They found me in the dingy complex, blocking my path. Mom’s eyes were red-rimmed. “How could you… how could you possibly live in this dump?” “Your health is fragile. Come back to the hospital with us immediately.” I looked at her with cold eyes. My phone buzzed—it was time to start my stream. I tried to walk past them. Dad grabbed my arm, his face tight with disgust. “We spent all those years raising you for this? To do this cheap, degrading work?” “You might not be ashamed, but if this gets back to my colleagues, we’ll be a laughingstock!” Of course. They never cared about me. Only their reputation. I yanked my arm away. “What’s shameful about earning money with my own two hands?” “There’s no such thing as ‘degrading’ work. Do you think being a doctor makes you superior?” I stepped closer to Dad. “Right. Of course. After all, the heart of a healer is so noble that you’re willing to abandon your own daughter. You must be high and mighty!” Mom’s eyes grew frantic. “Your father and I came here to take you back for treatment! Stop this stubbornness. I’ve found the next donor…” “What for? So I can be the one accused of being a black-market beneficiary?” I interrupted impatiently. “Don’t worry. I’ll avoid suspicion for you—until the day I die!” I turned away. A neighbor and her large dog brushed past me. Mom screamed about the dog’s germs. The dog, startled by the noise, lunged at me. “Watch out!” The piercing cry came as I fell down the short flight of steps. The dog bit me. My heart rate soared, and my vision swam. I fumbled in my bag for my pills and swallowed them. Mom frantically snatched the bottle. “You can’t take this cheap medicine! Do you know how much damage it does to your body?” Leaning against the wall, I drew a shaky breath. “It’s cheap. And it works fast.” I needed the pills to suppress the chest pain through countless late-night streams. Tears suddenly spilled from Mom’s eyes. “I’m calling an ambulance right now! I’ll take you to our hospital.” I took a deep breath. “No need! Just pay for my rabies shots. I have to stream now.” Dad erupted in fury. “At a time like this, you’re still thinking about work! Is that job more important than your life?” He pulled my sleeve, tearing my cheap shirt. I shouted back, louder than he had. “Yes! Because I don’t have the money for a cardiac assist device! Because my parents would rather use their connections to steal a donor heart for a stranger than pay for my medical bills!” “What else am I supposed to do but kill myself working to survive? This stream is the best job I can find in my condition! You look down on it, but at least it feeds me!” Dad froze. The neighbor, witnessing the whole spectacle, gave me an extra thirty dollars for ‘nutrition.’ Dad looked at her, his expression saying everything. My parents stood frozen, a complex mix of emotions crossing their faces. For a brief moment, I thought I saw a flash of genuine guilt in their eyes. I struggled to my feet, limped inside, and locked the door, shutting them out. My stream didn’t end until the early morning. A colleague went out for food and came back to tell me my parents were still waiting by the door. “Scarlett, you can’t eat this junk food with your heart condition! You need nutrition!” “Come on, come home with Mom. I’ll make you chicken soup.” Mom stared intensely at the pre-packaged meal in my hand, her voice choked. Even Dad’s tone was softer. “Your mother and I were wrong about what happened before. We’ll find a way to get you the surgery sooner. Don’t be stubborn anymore.” I burst out laughing. “Did I have such a great life when I was home?” “You were always too busy with work. I don’t think I’ve had one proper, home-cooked meal in years. I’ve eaten frozen junk food for so long, and now you’re worried about my nutrition?” My parents flushed a deep red. This time, it was shame. They must have remembered how much they’d neglected me. Mom tried to speak several times, but no words came out. Impatient, I shooed them away. “If you genuinely care about me, then just disappear!” “Because right now, looking at you both makes me sick!” Under the dim streetlights, their shadows stretched long and weary. But I refused to look back. Not long after, I saw Mom on the local news. Finn O’Malley, the student, was sobbing as he thanked her, calling her his second mother. Tears in her eyes, Mom said, “It’s just my duty as a healer.” Her hospital’s prestige soared, and Mom was promoted yet again. She got what she wanted, I thought. And I, apparently, was no longer of any use. But then, I received a text from her. Mom (Eleanor): Scarlett, the hospital has scheduled your surgery. Please don’t be afraid. This time, I promise your mother will save you. All the documents were clearly marked. The Chief of Staff, Dr. Thompson, even called to say Mom had pulled every last string she had for me. I thought about it for a long time, then decided to go to the hospital. I didn’t need to play games with my own life. This was what I deserved. When I arrived at the inpatient ward, the people waiting for me weren’t the surgeons. It was the two people I least wanted to see: Finn and his mother. I immediately looked at Dad. He looked guilty, lowering his eyes, but he gripped my arm and forced me to sit down. “Finn has felt terrible about everything, he wants to apologize personally.” “Honestly, without this little trick, we didn’t know how else to get you back here.” The air thickened, turning to glass. I could barely believe it. My throat was dry. “So, the surgery is a lie? This was all just to get me to deal with your poor little patient?” Finn stood up to smooth things over. “Scarlett, Dr. Stone saved my life, but it hurt yours. It’s not her fault, it’s mine. I owe you an apology.” He knelt before me, instantly setting me on fire with misplaced morality. Mom looked at me with open disappointment. “Look how understanding Finn is. Unlike you, throwing a tantrum at every turn. Let this go. You need to help Finn, too. He came from nothing. He has a long anti-rejection therapy ahead of him. It’s not easy.” Dad quickly chimed in, talking about how poor and how hard-fought Finn’s survival was. I listened and started to laugh. I placed my own medical records and overdue bills in front of them. “I’m not doing so great either. The hospital says if I don’t get surgery soon, I’m genuinely going to die.” “Finn, since you feel so bad, why don’t you show it with a concrete action? Like giving the heart back?” Mom slammed her hand on the table, furious. “Running away from home is one thing, but now you’re forging medical records to trick us?” “How can you be so malicious? Finn hasn’t even fully recovered, and you want to snatch his heart away?” I laughed until I almost cried. She hadn’t followed my condition at all. Even her tears in the tenement complex were just crocodile tears. “I have no choice, do I? My parents have the money and connections to steal a donor heart for someone else, but they sacrifice their own daughter’s life to do it.” “And if I die, both of your careers are finished. Utterly ruined!” I looked at Mom with contempt. “I just don’t understand. You can pour your heart and soul into a stranger, but you can be this ruthless to your own child.” “I used to think you were a woman of principle. Seeing what you did for Finn, I realize you’re just a hypocrite.” “My mother is nothing but a self-serving fraud!” I had figured out why Mom was so obsessed with saving Finn. She was running for Vice Chief of Staff next year. She needed the political capital. Saving a poor student from a single-parent, welfare-dependent family? What incredible publicity. During this crucial period, she couldn’t dare prioritize my surgery. It would be called nepotism and ruin her candidacy. But that heart was mine by sequence! In this calculation, she gained a promotion, Finn gained a new life. Only I, like a fool, was sacrificed. Now I couldn’t even afford my medicine. I pulled out my phone and opened the camera. “Since you care so much about the needy student, how about you adopt him right now, on a live stream, in front of the whole internet? That will surely secure your promotion.” “As for me, I’ll publicly disown you. You won’t have to worry about the ‘burden of suspicion’ anymore!”

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The wealthy Sterling family of Sea City held a birthday banquet for their eldest son, Adrian Sterling. At the banquet, a piano competition was held to select Adrian’s fiancée. Because Adrian once said his wife must play the piano beautifully. In my past life, I was the one who shone at the banquet. The Sterling and Quinn families formally united, and I married into the Sterling family. Meanwhile, the girl he loved, Luna Moon, fell ill and died of depression. After he became the CEO of Sterling Enterprises, he placed Luna’s memorial tablet in the main hall of the Sterling house and made me kneel before it for three days and three nights. “If you hadn’t injured Luna’s hand before the banquet, my parents would have surely liked her. It’s you who separated us by life and death.” “The position of Mrs. Sterling should have been hers.” The first thing he did after taking office was to maliciously acquire the Quinn Group, bankrupting my family’s company. My father died of a heart attack from rage, and my mother passed away from grief a year later. The Quinn family fell into ruin. In this life, at the Sterling family’s birthday banquet, I injured my own wrist and withdrew from the fight these socialites were dying for. He wants to be with Luna Moon for a lifetime? I’ll grant their wish. Chapter 1 “The winner of this piano performance, with the most votes, is: Miss Luna Moon of the Moon family.” At the birthday banquet, Adrian’s aunt loudly announced the winner’s name. Everyone whispered: “She actually got first place.” “I heard Scarlett Quinn sprained her wrist and couldn’t play. Luna Moon is really lucky.” “Isn’t the daughter-in-law the Sterling family prefers Scarlett Quinn?” “But it was agreed that the winner would be Adrian’s fiancée. It was a rule Adrian set himself.” Adrian looked delighted and joyful, tightly holding Luna’s hand as they walked forward: “Dad, Mom, this is the fiancée your son has chosen.” Adrian’s eyes were full of tenderness. Luna looked shy, her face blushing as if about to bleed, but she never let go of Adrian’s hand. Everyone looked sympathetically at me, my wrist still wrapped in gauze, watching the drama unfold. Mrs. Sterling looked at me, hesitating to speak. After all, she had revealed that she wanted to choose me as her daughter-in-law, and had even specially ventilated this to my parents, fearing they would arrange blind dates for me with other young masters. Now, a mishap suddenly occurred. Mrs. Sterling hesitated for a moment and asked Adrian: “Do you have any other girls you like? Your father is happy today. Maybe if you say it, your dad will cancel today’s performance results, and you can consider carefully again.” She glanced at me, hinting for him to reconsider. But Mrs. Sterling was wrong, because I was unwilling to marry Adrian again. In my past life, Adrian said I broke Luna’s hand, causing her inability to play. But that was something I disdained to do. If he calmly thought about my usual conduct, he would know that wasn’t something I would do. But seeing Luna with her head down and red eyes, he felt heartache long ago. Luna broke free from his hand and said: “I know Miss Quinn doesn’t like me, but I just want a fair chance to fight for being with you. Why can’t she give it to me? Just because her father is the president of the Quinn Group? Because the Moon family’s status is inferior to hers now?” Her one sentence planted the seed for Adrian’s malicious acquisition of the Quinn Group after he succeeded. Later I learned that the long-lost piano piece I played in my past life was so good that even the chief pianist of the National Orchestra nodded in satisfaction. Seeing she couldn’t win against me, Luna deliberately cut her own hand with a small knife, losing the competition on purpose. Chapter 2 In this life, I won’t give her the chance. I’d rather accidentally injure my wrist at yesterday’s spring banquet, causing me to be unable to participate in the contest today, than give them another handle against me. They want to be together? In this life, I’ll fulfill their wish. I will definitely stay far away from them. Hearing his mother’s question, Adrian said loudly: “Mom, Luna is the only woman I love. Since she got the most votes for her performance, she is first place. According to the rules I set originally, I must marry her.” “In this life, I will only love Luna alone.” Mrs. Sterling sighed helplessly: “I have no objection if you want to marry her. But the union of two families is not a small matter. I hope you consider carefully. Besides economic strength, the upbringing of future generations of the Sterling family must also be considered.” She looked at Luna. Luna only had Adrian in her eyes. Perhaps love gives people infinite courage. She stepped forward and said with a trembling voice: “Mrs. Sterling, after marrying Adrian, I will definitely give birth to a son for him, teach the children at home, and raise the next generation of the Sterling family well. But Adrian said he won’t marry another woman.” “Every woman wants to be with her beloved for a lifetime, just the two of them. Mrs. Sterling should be the same, right? Please agree to fulfill our marriage.” As soon as her voice fell, the expressions of the ladies in the hall varied, especially those whose daughters had hopes of becoming Adrian’s wife, their faces turned black. “Miss Moon is really formidable, starting to manage Adrian before even entering the door.” “Which successful man doesn’t have a few women behind him? Besides, Adrian is Mrs. Sterling’s only son. What is she trying to do? If she can’t give birth to a son, is she prepared to let the Sterling family line end?” “It seems Luna Moon wants to monopolize Adrian’s favor.” Hearing Luna say this, although Adrian knew it was inappropriate, he still defended her: “Mom, I hope you agree to let me marry Luna.” Mrs. Sterling closed her eyes and waved her hand wearily: “Since your mind is made up, I can’t control you. In three days, people will be sent to the Moon family to propose.” Everyone filed out. Before I walked out of the Sterling house, I was stopped: “Miss Quinn.” It was Luna. Servants behind her held the jewelry Adrian gave her. She walked up smiling: “I’m sorry, Miss Quinn. I didn’t expect you not to participate in the performance today. I thought you would win.” I smiled faintly: “Congratulations, Miss Moon, your wish has come true.” Her eyes reddened: “Will you blame me? I know Mrs. Sterling likes you more, but I really love Adrian, and he also said he would marry me. For him, I can only disregard sisterly affection. Don’t blame me.” “This diamond necklace was given by Adrian. I’m giving it to you, as a token of sisterhood. I wish Miss Quinn finds her beloved soon and gives birth to a son early.” I took the necklace. Before I could speak, the diamond necklace in my hand was snatched by a man’s hand: “I gave this to you, why give it to someone else? This is my good intention wishing for us to have a son early after marriage, why are you so careless?” Luna looked at Adrian shyly: “Adrian, Miss Quinn is unhappy about losing the selection. I wanted to coax her. Don’t be so stingy.” Chapter 3 Adrian looked at me mockingly: “Unhappy? Scarlett, it’s my mom who likes you, not me. I hope you understand. My mom probably values your father’s support, but once I get the approval of all shareholders, I will be the next heir of Sterling Enterprises. Everyone will have to listen to me, don’t you think?” “I won’t rely on a woman’s skirts to develop my career, and I never said I wanted to marry you.” “In the past, I could talk to you, thinking you were generous and interesting in conversation, but I didn’t expect you to have such great ambition to become Mrs. Sterling.” Watching the two of them singing in harmony, I was impatient to talk further. I took a step back: “Mr. Sterling, I came to the Sterling house for the birthday banquet because of your mother’s invitation. What relying on women to develop a career, what wanting to marry you, stop talking such nonsense, lest Miss Moon overthinks.” “If she overthinks and assumes Mr. Sterling is saying her maiden family is incapable, how will Miss Moon conduct herself in the Sterling family?” After speaking, I turned and left. Luna was naturally suspicious and petty. The Moon family had long declined. Among the prominent families in Sea City, her family didn’t rank at all. Compared to my family background, hers was truly not worth mentioning. Three days later, the Sterling family sent people to propose to the Moon family. Once the marriage was settled, Luna immediately held a banquet, inviting the young ladies of Sea City. Looking at Adrian’s face, who dared not go? At the banquet, Luna was dressed in jewels, wearing all the jewelry sent by Adrian and Mrs. Sterling. Not yet Mrs. Sterling, but putting on the full airs of Mrs. Sterling. I thought of my past life, where she was loved by Adrian for being elegant and plain, disliking luxurious jewelry, saying he preferred her freshness and refinement. I wonder if Adrian in this life would still praise her for being fresh and untainted by the mortal world upon seeing her like this. Luna held my hand tightly in front of everyone: “Miss Quinn, when I get married, can you be my bridesmaid? Accompany me on my wedding day. With a few good sisters accompanying me, I won’t be so scared.” There was pleading on her face, but a triumphant smile in her eyes. In her mind, she was already a winner in life. This was to embarrass me in public. “You are Mrs. Sterling. If you choose someone as a bridesmaid, who can refuse? Presumably, no one in Sea City wouldn’t give me, Adrian Sterling, this face. Scarlett, don’t you think so?” The speaker was Adrian, who was walking in. Adrian rushed to support Luna at the banquet she held; he truly doted on her. Everyone looked at me, seeing how I would respond. If I agreed, it would be submitting to the status of Mrs. Sterling. If I didn’t agree, it would be rejecting Adrian’s face. Adrian was full of confidence, Luna was triumphant. But they forgot, my father is the president of the Quinn Group. In Sea City, except for respected elders, I don’t need to look at anyone’s face. I shook off Luna’s hand: “Sorry, I may not be able to attend your wedding. My dad sent someone to pick me up and go home. The booked flight is exactly on your wedding day.” Luna looked at me, her eyes full of mist: “Is Miss Quinn angry and blaming me? Otherwise, how could it be so coincidental that Chairman Quinn sent someone to pick you up?” Chapter 4 My female companion beside me answered for me: “The person Chairman Quinn sent to pick up Scarlett arrived last night. He said a marriage has been arranged for Scarlett. Scarlett has been in Sea City for half a year, it’s time to go home and prepare for marriage.” As soon as the words fell, Adrian’s face changed drastically: “You’re going back to Los Angeles? Didn’t your dad send you to Sea City to find a young master from a prominent family to marry?” “I know you’re uncomfortable that I chose Luna as my wife. If I promise you, I marry her, but I can still be with you?” Luna’s face changed. Before she could speak, I smiled and said: “What joke is Mr. Sterling telling? Didn’t Mr. Sterling just tell Mrs. Sterling at the Sterling house that he would be with Miss Moon for a lifetime, just the two of you?” “Moreover, how would a daughter of the Quinn family be a mistress?” Adrian gritted his teeth: “Scarlett, must you be Mrs. Sterling? Do you care so much about this empty title?” I looked at him inexplicably: “Adrian, I never said I wanted to be your wife. I’ve just been in Sea City long enough, my family misses me, and I have no relatives here. It’s right to go home. Is there any reason not to let someone go home?” Adrian’s face grew darker and darker: “What if I don’t agree, and I won’t let you go?” “Mr. Sterling is afraid to be disappointed. Miss Quinn and I are already engaged. Is President Sterling trying to snatch my wife?” I turned around. Walking in was Julian Thorne, whom I grew up with. He was in a formal suit, still dusty from travel. It seemed he rushed to Sea City. He walked in, stood beside me, and invisibly protected me. Adrian stared at him dead on: “Julian Thorne, you aren’t in Los Angeles, what are you doing in Sea City?” Julian smiled: “I’m negotiating a deal for Uncle Quinn and responsible for taking Scarlett back to Los Angeles.” After speaking, he looked at me. There was no one else in his eyes but me: “Scarlett, this kind of banquet is boring to death. I heard there’s a fireworks show in Sea City tonight. Want me to take you to see it?” I smiled and stood up, bidding farewell to Adrian and Luna: “I’ll take my leave now. I’m afraid I’ll have long left when you two get married. Wishing you two a hundred years of harmony in advance.” After speaking, I walked towards Julian and followed him out of the Moon residence. Adrian chased out: “Scarlett, is being with me not comparable to being Julian’s fiancée?” “When I become the heir of Sterling Enterprises, I promise you, let you have a child for me, okay?” Julian walked to the sports car outside the door, opened the door, and seated me in the car. I smiled and sat in, closing the door. He drove the car, speeding out of the city, leaving Adrian’s words and person behind. Adrian’s marriage was a big event for the Sterling family. On the morning of the wedding, the car I was leaving in was also packed and ready to go. Unexpectedly, our car met the wedding procession on the street. I deliberately chose a street their wedding procession wouldn’t pass through. I didn’t expect Adrian to choose this road. He blocked the car in his groom’s suit: “Scarlett, are you really leaving?”

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