Category: English

Nine months pregnant, I suddenly craved the caramel apples my husband and I used to eat when we first started dating. I pestered him to drive me to get some, but as soon as we got in the car, the smart navigation system automatically popped up a destination. It was an unfamiliar apartment complex on the west side of the city. My husband quickly clicked the ‘X’ when the pop-up appeared, changing the subject with a casual air. I tacitly pretended nothing had happened. That night after going to bed, I connected to the car control app. In the cloud-uploaded driving records, the car had a 30-mile abnormal route every day. Just recently, the “Owner” had categorized it as a “Daily Habit.” In the video records, every night after I fell asleep, my husband would secretly get up. Under the cover of night, he would drive to the address I had accidentally seen. Every time the car arrived, a slender figure was waiting at the entrance of the apartment building. She would take his coat, dust it off, and adjust his scarf before he left. Most of the time, she would gently say: “If you’re too busy, you don’t have to come see me. I’m not like your wife, who can’t be left alone for a moment.” That night, I had insomnia. Married for five years, it took four rounds of IVF to conceive this child. I couldn’t bring myself to be ruthless. Friends also advised me that at least my husband still had feelings and responsibility for me. Marriage needs management; turn a blind eye and it will pass. But a week later, on the day of my difficult labor, inside the delivery room, my husband’s phone suddenly rang. An anxious voice came from the other end: “Sarah is standing on the edge of the roof now, saying if you don’t come, she’ll jump!” His movement to pull his hand away was faster than his brain. “She is the daughter of my late mentor…” He dared not look into my eyes, “I’m just going to persuade her to come down.” Red-eyed, I screamed hoarsely at his back: “If you dare to leave today! I will consider this child to have no father!” My husband paused, looking back at me with a pained expression. But the next second, he still rushed out of the hospital with firm steps. 1 I knew who the woman on the other end of the phone was. I had seen her countless times in Lucas’s dashcam footage. I lay on the operating table, my clothes soaked through with sweat, clinging messily to my body. The child was not yet born, but the father had already abandoned him. In my hazy consciousness, I heard my parents and in-laws arguing outside. Intense contractions hit like a tsunami, but they couldn’t compare to one ten-thousandth of the pain in my heart. My mother roared through tears: “Who is that woman? Is Lucas crazy? Leaving his wife while she’s giving birth?” The Sterling elders were frantically making calls, their voices crying: “Emily, hold on a little longer. We’ve sent people to find that disgrace. If he doesn’t come back today, we’ll pretend we never had this son!” My wedding ring slipped off my finger during the struggle and rolled under the bed, kicked into the shadows by rushing medical staff. The contractions became more urgent, and the alarms of the machines rose and fell. “Fetal heart rate dropping!” The doctor’s shout pierced the air, and my vision went black. When I opened my eyes again, the smell of disinfectant drilled into my nose. The nurse was adjusting the IV drip speed. Seeing me awake, she said softly: “It’s a miracle we saved you from the hemorrhage. Children… there will be more in the future.” With a boom, my heart felt like it had been pierced through. My mother sat by the bed, tears in her eyes, gently wiping mine: “My baby, you’ve suffered.” My father stood by the bed with a heartache expression, and my in-laws stood in the corner full of guilt. I looked at the pale ceiling, tears silently flowing into my hair. The days and nights of these five years played on loop like a silent movie before my eyes. From Lucas’s proposal at the graduation ceremony when we were twenty-two. To him staying up late preparing various pregnancy nutrition meals for me. To the way he seriously recorded fetal heart data at every checkup. Now, all these tender fragments had become a joke. At the door, Lucas’s childhood friend, Mark, stood there guiltily. “Sister-in-law, Sarah, her depression flared up. She said if Lucas didn’t go, she would jump off the building. There was really no choice… You…” He didn’t dare to continue, seeming to realize the inappropriateness. “So what? Do I need to be understanding?” I mocked expressionlessly. I wanted to ask him, how many times did you help Lucas lie to me? Every time you said it was a gathering between friends, how many times was it true? But suddenly I didn’t want to know. From the delivery room to the ward, I waited for my legal husband to return, from dark until dawn, until night fell again. At 8 PM, Lucas, who had disappeared for a full twenty hours, finally appeared. His suit was wrinkled, and his eyes dodged mine. “Emily, I’m sorry.” His voice was dry. “Sarah’s condition was really dangerous. My mentor entrusted her to me before he died, I had to…” I interrupted him, voice hoarse: “Do you know our child is gone?” “You knew I was having a C-section yesterday, but you still chose to be with her.” “Lucas, that was our child!” Silence spread in the ward. He held my hand, his palm ice cold. “Emily, in these five years, I’ve never begged you for anything. Just this once, I beg you not to make a scene.” “Sarah just lost her father. If she is accused of interfering in someone else’s family again, her depression will worsen.” I looked at the pleading in his eyes, my heart tearing into pieces. He shouldn’t be begging me; he should be kneeling and crying at the door of the NICU. A person’s first reaction can’t lie. He didn’t ask the doctor why I had a hemorrhage. Didn’t ask how scared I was during the surgery. Once he opened his mouth, it was all about another woman. Tears poured out, soaking the pillowcase. Using all my strength, I squeezed out a word from my throat: “Okay.” He was visibly relieved, then said: “Sarah needs someone with her right now. I’ll move in with her for a while.” “When her mood stabilizes, about five months or so, I’ll move back. It won’t be too late for us to have children then, okay?” Lucas’s tone was like arranging a work meeting. My eyes widened abruptly, as if a basin of ice water had been poured over my head. The child we looked forward to for five years was not yet cold in his grave, yet he was already planning a future for another woman. In this instant, my world collapsed. 2 I subconsciously touched my flat abdomen. A new little life was once nurtured there, proof that we once loved each other, but now it seemed so ironic. I slowly withdrew my hand from his grip, my voice terrifyingly calm: “Lucas.” “The first time you learned to make soup, you filled the kitchen with smoke just because I couldn’t eat anything due to morning sickness.” “You secretly recorded the baby’s heartbeat, set it as your ringtone, and showed it off to everyone.” “You lay at the door of the examination room shouting ‘Wifey don’t be afraid,’ refusing to leave even after being chased away by nurses three times.” “In these five years, you spoiled me until I couldn’t take care of myself, even squatting down to tie my shoelaces…” “I once truly believed we would be happy forever.” I raised my tear-stained face, voice shattered: “But now, I can’t see a single bit of care for me in your eyes anymore.” Memories of five years flooded in like a tide. Lucas’s Adam’s apple rolled violently, and finally, he said hoarsely: “But wifey, Sarah really needs me right now.” That “needs me” completely crushed my last shred of illusion. I looked at him, suddenly feeling the person in front of me was so strange. With a trembling voice, I gritted my teeth and spat out a word: “Get out!” His figure paused, seemingly wanting to hug me, but eventually disappeared at the end of the corridor without looking back. On the day of the child’s hundred-day memorial, I knelt in front of the grave. Lucas still didn’t come. “Baby, Mommy is here to see you.” My voice was soft but trembling uncontrollably. My mother put her arm around my shoulder and wiped tears, “Emily, Mom is here.” I choked in my mother’s arms: “It’s okay. At least the child came to accompany me.” “Besides, given the current situation, maybe it’s better he didn’t come to this family.” As soon as the voice fell, Lucas arrived late. He knelt beside me. “Baby, Daddy…” I interrupted him coldly: “I said it that day. If you dared to leave, the child wouldn’t have you as a father.” “Emily, I know you are sad, but don’t say such things…” He frowned at me, looking as if I was being unreasonable, while he was so magnanimous not to hold it against me. “As a father, I’m also sad that the child is gone. You…” My mother raised her hand and slapped him. “Sad? Your sadness is leaving your wife in difficult labor to take care of a shady woman outside?” Lucas’s face suddenly turned gloomy. Before he could say anything, Sarah rushed over from outside the cemetery with red eyes. She looked at Lucas, voice choking. “Lucas, are you done paying respects?” “Is it… finally time to move back?” My father rushed up immediately: “Lucas! What day is it today? You actually brought this woman here?” Lucas probably knew his behavior was inappropriate, saying guiltily: “Dad, I had no choice. Sarah’s mental state hasn’t been good recently. I can’t leave her alone at home.” “Mental state not good? Is it the turn of someone else’s husband to take care of her bad mental state? Do you know today is your child’s hundredth day? Do you know how Emily survived these days?” Sarah immediately lowered her head, voice as thin as a mosquito: “Uncle, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to. It’s just that Lucas said he was coming out today, and I was really scared, so I followed him.” Looking pitiful everywhere. Sure enough, Lucas immediately protected her, “Dad, just direct your anger at me, don’t make it difficult for her.” My father was furious, turning to look at Lucas’s parents: “This is the good son you raised!” My mother helped me stand up, trembling with anger: “Lucas, are you still human?” Lucas’s parents panicked too, quickly advising: “Lucas, today is indeed inappropriate. Find someone to send Sarah back first.” But Lucas acted as if he didn’t hear, instead tightening his grip on Sarah’s hand: “Her mental state just stabilized, she can’t be stimulated anymore.” I looked at him, voice dry: “So… in your eyes, she can’t be stimulated, but I can? I should bear the child’s death alone, right?” Before he could speak, Sarah said aggrievedly: “It’s okay, Lucas. Sister-in-law is right. I was insensible. You… you go back and take good care of Sister-in-law.” “I… I’ll go back now and pack your luggage.” She turned stumbling, her high heel tripping on a tombstone, and fell to the ground. Lucas’s hand holding mine tightened abruptly, almost letting go to rush over. But he didn’t move in the end, just watching Mark help her up. After a long time, he said deeply: “I’ll accompany you for a while longer.” “But Sarah, you must remember, Emily is my lawfully wedded wife.” “When she needs me back, I must leave.” “Don’t cry or make a scene. I have done my utmost these years.” Sarah bit her lip, as if she couldn’t hold it anymore, crying and running out of the cemetery. Lucas remained expressionless, not chasing. But the hand holding mine trembled slightly. Care cannot be hidden. Many years ago, I was hospitalized for acute gastroenteritis. He rushed back overnight from out of town. Clearly distressed with red eyes, he insisted on scolding me with a cold face for eating indiscriminately. He was like that then too, saying harsh words but his fingertips gently rubbing the back of my hand. 3 That night, in a private room at a restaurant. Elders from both families sat around the round table, the atmosphere oppressive. Mark whispered in Lucas’s ear. “Sister Sarah is still crying in the parking lot. The security guard says she refuses to get out of the car.” Lucas was serving me soup, movements calm and unhurried. He didn’t even look up: “Let her be.” The air in the room stagnated a bit more. This meal was tasteless, no different from when I usually ate alone. Sarah was the daughter of his and Mark’s mentor, growing up together. Although Mark didn’t say it openly. His care for her was ultimately more than for me, the rightful sister-in-law. When the main dishes were all served, the last dish, steamed leopard coral grouper, was turned to me. Mark suddenly spoke. “Leave some of this dish for Sister Sarah. She loves fish the most.” “If Sister-in-law wants to eat, just order another one.” Lucas sneered. Raised his hand, directly moving the whole plate of fish in front of me. His voice was cold and hard: “What my wife loves to eat, it’s not the turn of outsiders to share.” Despite saying so. After putting down his chopsticks, he frequently looked towards the door of the room. The waiter finished clearing the plates and was about to go out to dispose of the kitchen waste. Lucas was silent for a long time, suddenly stood up: “I’ll go.” The waiter handed over the garbage bag in astonishment, hesitating to speak. After Lucas left. Mark immediately moved to the farthest seat, bowing his head pretending to deal with emails. Parents on both sides were silent in embarrassment, chewing food mechanically. I felt chest tightness. Got up and walked to the corridor, wanting to breathe fresh air. Unknowingly, I walked to the underground parking lot. I faintly heard Sarah’s aggrieved sobbing, mixed with Lucas’s low comfort. Hiding behind a pillar, I saw light snow falling outside. Lucas and Sarah sat side by side on the hood of the car, sharing a bento box. He raised his hand, gently wiping the tear stains from her cheek. Sarah, red-eyed, punched him, face full of grievance. “You’re going back to her, why come to care about me!” Lucas let her hit him, with no impatience in his eyes. His gaze was gentle and tolerant. Completely different from the forced gentleness every time he looked at me. His voice was helpless. “Don’t say silly things.” “I promised my teacher to take care of you for a lifetime. Don’t you know if I would abandon you?” Sarah sobbed, leaning into his arms. Lucas picked up a piece of ribs, feeding it to her lips: “Specially ordered from a private kitchen and delivered.” “Much tastier than hotel food.” She took a bite, gradually stopping her crying. Lucas explained to her in a low voice. “Emily just lost a child, emotions unstable.” “Just accompanying her for a meal.” “If she’s satisfied, she won’t urge me home all day.” So, that’s what he thought. In these five years, he chose to side with me on many insignificant matters. Turns out he just felt that way, I would trouble Sarah less. A little favor was enough to make me grateful and stay by his side obediently. Looking into the parking lot with drifting light snow, the two still clinging together. Lucas had slight stomach trouble and usually ate very little. Clearly just dined in the private room, yet most of the bento went into his stomach. Maybe it’s true as others said. Meals taste sweet only when eaten with someone who shares your heart. Whether it’s a childhood sweetheart or a beloved one. Anyway, that person isn’t me. 4 I turned silently, taking the prepared divorce agreement from my bag. When I returned to the private room with the agreement, parents from both families stood up. After what just happened, the Sterling parents didn’t know how to mediate. My parents sighed, didn’t persuade much, just said “Divorce if you want.” Lucas’s mother hesitated, but still grabbed my hand and said: “Emily, give Lucas another chance, okay? Lucas is just this way because he values his mentor too much.” I didn’t speak, just placed the divorce agreement on the table. Just as Lucas’s mother was about to shed tears, the door opened. Lucas arrived. And brought Sarah. She wore Lucas’s suit jacket, looking around the room with a matter-of-fact expression, like the incoming Mrs. Sterling. The room fell instantly silent, all eyes focused on them. Lucas’s mother’s voice trembled: “Lucas, why did she come back again?” Lucas’s father threw his wine glass in anger: “Lucas, are you crazy?!” Lucas didn’t answer, just glanced at my coat, gaze landing on my face: “Finished eating?” “Mm.” I responded calmly: “I’m going home.” He seemed relieved, “Okay, message me when you get home.” He finished lightly, turning sideways to bring Sarah forward. “Dad, Mom, you know my mentor passed away. Before he died, he entrusted Sarah to me. I can’t break my word. I need to give her a job for the coming period, so she will temporarily join our company.” This open attitude made our questioning just now seem like making a fuss. Sarah showed a decent smile, reaching out to hold Lucas’s mother’s arm. “Hello Auntie, Lucas has always taken care of me. Today he specially brought me to meet the elders. Since everyone is here, how about I toast everyone?” Lucas’s mother looked at me troubledly, “Emily, how about… sit down and talk?” Just as I was about to refuse, Sarah interrupted, eyes provocative: “Sister Emily sit down too. After all, you are still the sister-in-law. You should be informed about some things, don’t you think?” Slap— A crisp slap sounded in the room. I looked in shock as my mom slapped Sarah. “Mom!” Mom glared at me with red eyes, voice trembling: “I carried you for ten months, don’t I understand you?” “From marrying him at twenty-two to twenty-seven now, five years! For him, you gave up the chance to study abroad, managed the company for him. When he drank until gastric bleeding for business, you stayed by his bed for three days without closing your eyes. You love him so much. If your heart wasn’t dead, could you bear to let go?” “I don’t ask for great wealth for you, but today he brings a mistress to humiliate you. As a mother, I can’t stand it!” “If you don’t want to hit her, I’ll do it for you!” Mom’s words were like a heavy hammer, finally knocking my tears down. Sarah covered her face, tears swirling in her eyes. Lucas immediately shielded her behind him, face terribly gloomy: “Emily, when did you learn to use elders…” “Do you know what disgusts me most about you?” I didn’t wait for him to finish, stepping forward and slapping him. “Lucas, the person who deserves hitting most is you!” After hitting, I pulled out the divorce agreement from the table and slammed it on him. Lucas caught the document, pupils contracting upon seeing the title. “Emily… you want a divorce?”

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“A thousand dollars. You really didn’t send it?” The team group chat—a bustling Slack channel of forty-seven people—went instantly silent after Brittany tagged me. I was finalizing a quarterly report, and the notification made me pause, a strange, cold feeling blooming in my chest. Brittany followed up instantly: “@Eliza. I gave you a thousand dollars for your wedding, and you couldn’t even reciprocate for mine? That’s not cool, Eliza.” I stared at the screen, and a slow, toxic laugh bubbled up inside me. Three months ago, she got married. I transferred the money—a full thousand dollars. She confirmed receipt. Now, she was claiming I hadn’t. Interesting. I didn’t reply. I minimized Slack and opened my bank app. September 15th, 2024, 2:47 p.m. I remembered the exact time and date. 1 The notifications on Slack kept flashing. “Brittany, don’t be mad, maybe Eliza just forgot.” “Yeah, we’re all colleagues, a friendly reminder is enough.” “Eliza is usually so quiet. She doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d do that…” I watched the messages scroll up. Not a single person asked a simple question: Is there a misunderstanding? Brittany posted another message: “It’s fine, it’s not like I desperately need the cash. I just believe in integrity. Some people seem nice on the surface, but you only see their true colors when money is involved.” I gripped my phone tightly. Three months ago. September 15th. Her wedding. I remembered it so clearly. That afternoon, I’d received the digital invite while sitting at my desk. I thought about it, then sent the money: $1,000. It was exactly one-quarter of my monthly salary. When I sent the Venmo transfer, I even wrote a little note: Congrats on the big day! She replied immediately: Got it, thanks, sweetie! I’d even screenshotted the exchange to show my mother, who commented on how convenient digital gifts were nowadays. Only three months had passed. How could she have forgotten? I pulled up our chat history. The September 15th exchange was right there. The transfer receipt, her instant, enthusiastic confirmation—all present and accounted for. I looked at the little heart emoji she’d used, then back at the ugly messages filling the team chat. Brittany’s newest post: “I don’t want to make this awkward, Eliza, but you really owe everyone an explanation.” I took a deep breath. An explanation? Fine. I was about to capture the screenshot and drop it into the chat when the office door opened. “Eliza, Ms. Reyes needs to see you.” It was Mia from Admin. I put my phone away and stood up. As I walked toward the door, I heard the quiet, conspiratorial whispers behind me: “Did she really not send it?” “I don’t know, but Brittany wouldn’t lie in the group chat…” “A thousand dollars, though. That’s not exactly pocket change.” I didn’t turn around. Ms. Reyes needed me to prepare materials for next month’s project presentation. I sat in her office, listening to her talk for ten minutes, my mind a blank loop of the messages I’d just read. When I came out, it was nearly quitting time. I returned to my desk and checked my phone. The chat had exploded with dozens more messages. All about me. “Where is Eliza? Why isn’t she saying anything?” “Is she feeling guilty?” “I think she needs to address this, honestly.” Brittany’s latest comment: “Look, I don’t want to cause drama. Everyone, please just log off and enjoy your evening. Don’t let this ruin the office atmosphere.” That was a beautiful performance. Sanctimonious and slick. I scrolled down and saw a private message. It was from Brittany. “Eliza, I know you might be having difficulties, but at least reply to me. Going silent like this makes me look bad.” I stared at the message for a long time. Difficulties? What difficulties did I have? I sent the money, you received it, and you confirmed receipt. Now you’re saying I didn’t. Who was making whom look bad? I didn’t reply. I opened my phone’s photo folder and found the original screenshot. The one showing the $1,000 transfer and her reply: Got it, thanks, sweetie! I then took a clean screenshot of the bank transfer record: September 15th, 2024, 2:47:23 p.m. Recipient: Brittany Miller. Amount: $1,000. I saved both images. Then I locked my phone, gathered my things, and left. By the time I walked out of the company doors, the sky was dark. Standing at the bus stop, waiting for the Route 43, my mind kept circling the same question. Why would she do this? Why lie about receiving the money when she clearly had the record? Could it really be a system error? Impossible. The bank record was there. The chat confirmation was there. She was doing this on purpose. But why target me? It didn’t make sense. The bus arrived. I got on and found a window seat. The streetlights blurred as we drove past. Then, I remembered something. Last month, when Owen and I got married. Brittany had sent $750. $250 less than I’d given her. I hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. Everyone’s financial situation is different. But now… Did she feel like she’d lost money? I gave $1,000, and she only gave $750. Did she feel slighted, and this was her way of evening the score—by simply claiming she never received my money at all? When the thought surfaced, even I was shocked by its pettiness. But the more I thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. Some people’s logic truly defied understanding. I got off the bus and walked home. My phone vibrated again. The team chat. Brittany had posted: Let’s put today’s issue behind us. I don’t want to bring it up again. I hope this won’t affect the positive work environment. Beneath it, a chorus of replies: “Got it,” “Don’t worry about it,” “Brittany, don’t take it to heart.” I looked at the messages, a cold stone settling in my stomach. I was the one who had been wronged. But she was the one receiving all the sympathy. I didn’t post anything. I knew that if I released the screenshots now, it would cause utter chaos. But I didn’t want to act impulsively. I wanted to wait and see how far she was willing to take this performance. When I got home, Owen had already made dinner. “What’s wrong? You look pale.” I handed him my phone. He glanced at the chat, a frown creasing his forehead. “Is she crazy? You clearly sent it.” “She says she didn’t receive it.” “Don’t you have proof?” “I do.” “Then what are you waiting for?” He handed the phone back. “Post the screenshots and shut her down.” I shook my head. “Not yet.” “Wait for what?” I looked out at the dark evening sky. “Wait for her to make another mistake.” 2 The next morning, the office atmosphere was subtle but pervasive. The way my colleagues looked at me… it was a clinical examination. I sat down at my desk, trying to appear unbothered, and logged into my computer. Brittany arrived later than I did. She paused deliberately as she passed my desk. “Eliza,” she leaned in, lowering her voice, “have you decided what you’re going to do about yesterday?” I looked up at her. Her face was fixed in a careful expression of “I’m being incredibly gracious right now.” “About what?” I asked. She froze, clearly not expecting that response. “The… the gift money, of course.” She whispered. “If you’re truly having financial trouble, I’m willing to let it go, but you need to at least give me a heads-up.” I smiled faintly. “Brittany, I transferred $1,000, and you confirmed receipt.” Her face flickered. “When did I ever say I received it?” “September 15th, a little after 2:47 p.m.” She blinked, her expression tightening. “Maybe you transferred it to the wrong person, Eliza. I genuinely didn’t receive anything.” I didn’t say anything. I just watched her. My silence made her squirm. She let out a dry, nervous laugh. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not lying. Why don’t you double-check? Did you send it to someone else?” “I checked,” I said. “It was you.” Her smile vanished. “Well… well, maybe it’s a system error. Venmo can sometimes have a delay…” “A three-month delay?” She had no answer. I continued to hold her gaze. She finally avoided my eyes and forced a casual tone: “Fine, fine. It’s just a thousand dollars. It’s not worth destroying our working relationship over. If you really think you sent it, then let’s just drop it. I’ll consider it my loss.” With that, she turned and walked away. I watched her retreating back, a cold satisfaction settling in my gut. Her loss? You took the money, denied it, and now you’re trying to play the benevolent martyr? During the morning meeting, I noticed a few colleagues giving me even stranger looks than before. After the meeting, I headed to the break room for water and heard voices inside. “…Did you hear about Eliza?” “I did. A thousand dollars. She says she sent it; Brittany says she didn’t get it.” “Who do you believe?” “Hard to say… but Brittany doesn’t seem like the type to lie about something so petty.” “Right? Brittany is usually so generous, buying us all coffee and lunch sometimes.” “And Eliza… she’s just so quiet. It’s hard to get a read on her.” I stood by the doorway, gripping the stainless steel handle of the water pitcher. I didn’t go in. Hard to get a read on her? What did that mean? Because I kept to myself, did that automatically make me a liar? I turned back to my desk. Just before closing time, the chat lit up again. Brittany posted: I talked to Eliza today. She insists she sent the money, but I still haven’t seen it. It must be some system glitch. Let’s just move on. No more discussion, please. The replies rolled in: “Good call,” “Brittany, you’re too big-hearted,” “Some things are just impossible to prove.” I stared at the screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I typed a few words, then deleted them. Not the time. I opened a private chat with Sarah, an older colleague in Admin. Sarah, got a minute to chat? Sarah was close to Brittany, but she hadn’t said anything in the group chat yesterday. And this morning, the way she looked at me… it wasn’t scrutiny; it was like she was trying to tell me something. Sarah replied quickly: After work. Break room. After work, I met her in the quiet break room. She was holding a mug of coffee. “Eliza,” she glanced around, lowering her voice. “That whole thing… did you really send the money?” “I did,” I said. “$1,000, Venmo, September 15th.” She was silent for a moment. “Do you have the record?” “Yes.” Another stretch of silence. I watched her expression and asked abruptly, “Sarah, do you know something I don’t?” The coffee mug in her hand shook slightly. “I…” “Tell me,” I pressed. She looked down, as if making a difficult decision. Finally, she looked up and whispered, “Eliza, I don’t know all the details, but… Brittany owes me money, too.” My heart skipped a beat. “When?” “Last month, just before your wedding. She said she was dealing with a temporary cash flow problem. She borrowed $400.” “Did she pay it back?” She offered a wry smile. “No. I mentioned it once, and she said, ‘I’m a little tight right now, maybe next month.’ I didn’t feel comfortable pushing her again.” It clicked. That was the reason for the hesitation in her eyes. “Sarah,” I looked at her directly. “If I need you to back me up, would you say something?” She hesitated, then nodded slightly. “I’ll see how things develop.” I didn’t push her. I understood her position. In the office hierarchy, no one wanted to make enemies. But now I knew one crucial thing. Brittany didn’t just owe me. 3. The Slack chat was quiet for the next few days. But the office atmosphere remained tense. I could feel the faint, invisible currents of people whispering about me. It was an isolating, uncomfortable feeling, like being watched by unseen eyes. Friday afternoon, Brittany sent a group Venmo request. “Happy Weekend, grab yourself a coffee on me~” It was a small amount, perhaps fifty cents each. The chat filled with replies: “Thanks, Brittany!” “You’re the best!” “So generous!” I didn’t accept the money. It wasn’t about the fifty cents. It was the sight of her name, the false magnanimity, that made me sick. That weekend, Owen and I went to the mall. In the elevator, I bumped into another colleague, Veronica, from the Finance department. We didn’t usually interact much. She saw me, paused, and then gave me a forced smile. “Eliza, shopping?” “Hi, Veronica. You, too?” She nodded, glancing at Owen standing next to me. “This must be your husband. The one who got married last month?” “Yes.” “Oh, congratulations.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Eliza, about… the Brittany thing. I heard.” My heart sank. “Veronica, that whole mess…” “I know, I know,” she waved a hand dismissively. “I’m not here to judge you. It’s just… well, take it from me, don’t take Brittany too seriously.” “What do you mean?” She checked around the elevator, then moved closer. “She borrowed money from me, too. Five hundred dollars. Still hasn’t paid it back. I mentioned it once, and she said, ‘Are you in desperate need of it? If not, I’ll pay you back next month.’ What could I say? I told her no, I wasn’t desperate.” I just stared at her, absorbing this new information. “And that time we had the department dinner,” Veronica continued. “It was supposed to be AA. She claimed an emergency and left early, promising to send the money later. Never did.” “How much was her share?” “Sixty dollars.” I did the mental calculation quickly. Sarah: $400. Veronica: $250 + $60 = $310. Plus my $1,000. Total I know of: $1,710. I will hold the last person’s debt for the later chapter to mirror the original plot structure. This was only what I knew. How many other people had she “borrowed” from and were too embarrassed to speak up? “Veronica,” I said, looking at her. “If I needed your help…” “What are you planning?” she asked, suddenly alert. “To tell the truth.” I said. “I sent $1,000. She received it and confirmed it. Now she’s denying it.” Veronica was silent for a moment. “Do you have proof?” “I do.” “Then why haven’t you posted it?” “The timing wasn’t right.” She looked at me, her expression complex. “Eliza, think this through. Blowing this up won’t be good for you, either.” “I know.” “In the office, sometimes it’s better to just take the loss and move on.” “I know,” I said. “But this isn’t about the money anymore.” She sighed. “It’s your call.” On Monday, I noticed a distinct change in Brittany’s behavior. She stopped seeking me out for her faux-sympathetic talks. She stopped posting passive-aggressive messages in the main chat. Instead, she started spreading gossip behind my back. I heard it from Sarah. “Brittany is telling people you’re too ‘petty’ and ‘high-maintenance’ for blowing a thousand dollars into a huge scene,” Sarah whispered to me. “She also said you’ve always been antisocial and never participate in team activities.” I let out a cold laugh. Petty? Antisocial? She received the money and denied it, and now I was the problem? “What else did she say?” Sarah hesitated. “She said… she said you’re manipulative and two-faced. That you pretend to be quiet and reserved, but you’re secretly calculating.” I tightened my grip on my pen. Calculating. Good. I was about to respond when my phone buzzed. A message from Brittany. I opened it. It was a screenshot. It was a message she had posted in another group chat—one I wasn’t a part of. “Eliza is seriously strange. She won’t let go of this thousand-dollar thing. I told her it must be a system error, but she refuses to believe me. Some people are just like this: they look innocent, but they’re incredibly sneaky and hold a serious grudge.” Someone replied beneath: “Yeah, you can’t trust the quiet ones.” Another: “Brittany, don’t let her get to you.” I stared at the screenshot, my hand trembling. Not from anger. From a deep, chilling clarity. Was this a power play? A warning? I didn’t reply. I opened my photo album and looked at the two screenshots I’d saved. The transfer record. Her confirmation. Was it enough? No. I wanted her defeat to be absolute.

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When my childhood sweetheart pushed me off the villa balcony, my husband was on the phone, calling her “baby” in that adoring tone he used to save for me. I should have died. Instead, I ended up half-paralyzed. Unsatisfied, she hired men to assault me, and then, broken and bleeding, I was buried alive in the villa’s backyard. Three years after my death, she was diagnosed with kidney failure. That’s when my husband finally remembered me. He brought a team of bodyguards to the private villa to drag me back. When they couldn’t find me, he assumed I was hiding. “As long as you agree to donate a kidney to Ruby, I’ll end your punishment. You can come home.” In the end, he dug three feet into the earth, only to find my bleached bones. 1 Carter burst into the private villa with his security team, a permanent scowl etched on his face. This place was managed by his people, but no one was allowed near the main house. It was a prison for me, his “wayward” wife. But I had been dead for three years. No one had lived here since. Weeds choked the walkway, waist-high. Carter wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Nora is so lazy. Look at this place. She couldn’t even be bothered to pull a few weeds.” “Compared to Ruby, she’s trash.” He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and covered his nose and mouth, shielding himself from a smell only he could detect. “Nora! You addicted to living alone? Get your ass out here!” He stood there, high and mighty, his eyes full of disdain. As if his presence here was some great favor he was bestowing upon me. He shouted my name several times. Silence. Carter’s patience snapped. “Break the door down,” he ordered his men coldly. With a crash, the guards kicked the door in and rushed inside to grab me. Five minutes later, they came back out, looking confused. “Mr. Sterling, your wife isn’t inside.” Carter’s brow furrowed deeper. He didn’t believe it. He went in himself, tore through the house, and found nothing. He pulled out his phone to call me. It had been three years since we last spoke. He frowned, scrolling through his contacts, trying to remember my number. Finally, he tapped on a contact labeled “Bitch” and hit dial. Floating beside him, I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. Carter hated me that much. Three years ago, his childhood sweetheart, Ruby, had a miscarriage and blamed it on me. Carter branded me a vicious woman and locked me away in this desolate villa to “reflect.” 2 Three years locked away, and he hadn’t thought of me once. Now, calling me felt unnatural to him. The call didn’t even connect. Straight to voicemail. Carter cursed angrily. “Fine, Nora. You want to hide? You think I won’t find you?” “Keep hiding. I want to see how long you can keep this up!” Suddenly, a loud, exaggerated laugh echoed from a dark corner. Carter spun around angrily. A drunkard in tattered clothes was sitting against the wall in a pile of weeds, holding a broken bottle. He looked up at Carter with bleary eyes. “Stop yelling. The person inside is long dead.” The drunkard laughed again, a sound so desolate it could have been a sob. “Where did this drunk come from?” One of the guards, eager to please, stepped forward and kicked the man over. “You dare act like this in front of Mr. Sterling? Don’t you know this whole mountain belongs to the Sterling family? Get lost before the boss gets angry!” The drunkard took the kick without flinching, as if he felt no pain. He just lay on the ground, laughing maniacally. “Dead. Died terribly.” “She was pushed from upstairs. Fell and got paralyzed. Blood everywhere.” “And… she was so beautiful. Those animals defiled her, then buried her alive.” Carter frowned deeply, looking at the drunkard with disgust. “Who are you? Where is Nora?” The drunkard just kept laughing and crying. His bottle had spilled clear liquid all over his face. It was impossible to tell if it was booze or tears. Still drunk, he crawled over and hugged Carter’s leg. “She was a good person. A good person.” “If she hadn’t given me a meal back then, I would have starved to death… What a pity, she died.” Carter kicked him away coldly. The man landed on a small mound of dirt. The drunkard seemed to sober up instantly. He scrambled to fix the mound, muttering apologies. 3 “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Carter looked confused. “What is that?” The drunkard smiled bitterly. “It’s her grave.” Carter looked closely. A crude, misshapen wooden plaque had a few words carved into it: “Nora’s Grave.” The drunkard treated the plaque like a treasure, carefully setting it upright. “Crazy old fool.” Carter pushed the man aside with a cold laugh and kicked the plaque in two. “Three years, and Nora is still pull these manipulative stunts. A fake grave? Really? How dramatic.” He not only destroyed the marker but ordered his guards to flatten the mound with shovels. “I want to see how long Nora can keep up this act!” The drunkard screamed as his hard work was destroyed. “I told you she’s dead! Why won’t you leave her alone?” “Miss Nora was such a good person, why did she have to suffer like this?” Carter looked at him with pure loathing and ignored him completely. He addressed the air. “Nora, I know you can hear me.” “I order you to come out within three days. Be a good girl and donate your kidney to Ruby. I’ll end your punishment and let you come home.” “If you keep playing these games and hiding, you will never see your son again!” Carter turned and left. Before going, he ordered his men to break the drunkard’s leg. “You filthy beggar, this is the price for offending Mr. Sterling!” I floated there, wanting to cry, but no tears would come. My son, Leo. I hadn’t seen him in three years. Carter knew Leo was my weakness. He was using him to threaten me. If I were alive, I would have run out immediately. But I was dead. 4 After Carter and his men left, the villa returned to its desolate silence. By the flattened mound of dirt, only the drunkard remained, sobbing. He was mourning me. Seeing his leg broken and bleeding because of me made my heart ache. In three years, not many people knew I was dead. But this drunkard was the only one who never abandoned me. He had been beaten for stealing once, and I had gotten a doctor to treat him and given him some food. He considered me his savior and refused to leave, guarding the villa door for me. He was there the day Ruby snuck in and pushed me off the balcony. He watched helplessly from outside as I fell. Falling from five stories should have killed me. But I survived, half-paralyzed. The drunkard ran like mad to get help. In that window of time, Ruby, seeing I wasn’t dead, hired some drifters to assault me. Then they threw my broken body into the backyard and buried me alive. “As long as you’re alive, you’re a threat to me and Carter,” she had said, her smile poisonous. “Only when you’re dead can I truly be Mrs. Sterling.” “Don’t blame me when you get to hell. Blame your bad luck for being in my way.” Ruby’s vicious smile was the last thing I saw. Maybe my resentment was too strong, because after I died, I didn’t move on. I was trapped here. I had done nothing wrong, yet I was framed and murdered. As the dirt covered me, I had only one thought: I wanted to see my son one last time. Without me, how would Ruby treat him? Three days later, Carter returned. This time, he brought a frail-looking Ruby and a small boy in a suit. Leo! I floated toward him joyfully. Before I could touch him, Carter grabbed him by the neck. “Nora, I’m giving you one last chance. Three days are up. If you don’t come out, I’ll strangle your son with my own hands!”

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On the day Sebastian proposed to me, I broke up with him. Our friends looked confused. He knelt on one knee, eyes red, telling me he had been planning this proposal for an entire month. Red roses, flown in from Ecuador, covered the ground. The scent was intoxicating. He really had put his heart into it. But… what a coincidence. I had made up my mind to leave him exactly one month ago. 1 I said the words before Sebastian could even take the ring out of the velvet box. The cheering friends around us seemed to hit a pause button. The evening breeze blew gently, carrying the rich scent of roses into my nose. The proposal scene he prepared was exactly as perfect as I had once fantasized. During the year we were madly in love, I told him that if he ever proposed, it had to be at a vineyard in Napa Valley, with an arch of roses and a white dress like a princess. He had all of that. He had prepared even more. “Why? Don’t you love me anymore, Violet?” It took Sebastian what felt like half a century to react. His usually arrogant face flushed red. I looked quietly at this face. The man I had loved for ten years. He was still as handsome as a fallen angel, still capable of making my heart skip a beat. But… I helped him up and gently patted the shoulder of his expensive suit. “Sebastian, you stopped loving me first.” 2 I was the most invisible “wallflower” on the college campus. My roommate, Serena, was the dazzling sorority queen. She looked down on me, despised me, and humiliated me for fun, treating me like her sidekick. Until the man she was crazy about returned to the States. At his grand welcome party, she threw a dusty, gray dress at me. “Put this on. Go do your makeup. Use a darker foundation shade; it’ll hide that pale, sickly look of yours. You’re coming with me.” “I have a shift at the library tonight…” Serena pulled a stack of cash directly from her Prada bag and threw it in my face. The edges of the bills scratched my cheek, stinging slightly. But I numbly squatted down and picked them up, one by one. It was a few hundred dollars. Enough to cover my medical bills for the week. Today, she acted out of character. She didn’t dress up like a peacock spreading its tail. Instead, her makeup was light, her blonde hair straightened. She wore a pearl-white, Audrey Hepburn-style dress. She looked elegant and noble, like a white swan. And I, wearing a foundation shade that didn’t match and exaggerated eyeliner, was the control group for the white swan. An ugly, ridiculous ugly duckling. 3 I knew tonight’s party was crucial to her. I heard that the man from the top tier of Manhattan’s elite, the one she had a crush on for years, was back. Serena was nervous as hell. She barely spoke in the Uber, constantly checking her makeup in a compact mirror. When getting out of the car, she was so flustered she almost twisted her ankle in her red-bottom heels. Habitually, she pinched my arm. “Watch where you’re going! Are you blind?” The hangers-on around us laughed and persuaded her, “Alright, Serena, calm down. Sebastian will be here soon. It won’t look good if he sees you like this.” Inside the private club, Serena was busy touching up her makeup and taking selfies. I sat in the corner, calculating how to use those few hundred dollars. I raised my hand and gently rubbed my left eye, which was becoming increasingly blurry. My heart was filled with a sense of lost direction. I didn’t know how long I had to endure those dark part-time jobs to save enough money to fix my eye. Maybe, before I saved enough, this eye would go completely blind. Just then, the carved wooden doors were pushed open, and the crowd suddenly erupted. “Sebastian is here!” Serena screamed, “Oh my god, my lipstick!” She scrambled to fix it. I didn’t move. The excitement of the elite class had nothing to do with me. I was just curious. What kind of man could make the arrogant Serena humble herself like this? Through the crowd, I saw the young man. Superior height—the kind of physique built from years of equestrian sports and sailing clubs. The impact of that face was enough to suffocate any woman. But I only dared to glance once before lowering my head. 4 The atmosphere in the room was as hot as a champagne tower overflowing. Cries of “Bash” or “Sebastian” never stopped. Serena shed her usual arrogance, acting like a trained socialite. No one noticed me, the gray blur in the corner. I quietly stood up, wanting to go to the restroom for some air. But just as I stood, the man surrounded by the crowd suddenly looked at me. I lowered my head in panic, my limbs feeling awkward and misplaced. The terrible makeup on my face made me want to crawl into a hole. “Is that your classmate?” A deep, magnetic male voice rang out. Serena paused, then laughed, her tone contemptuous. “Ugh, I didn’t want to bring it up. That’s my roommate.” “She insisted on tagging along to see the world.” “Sebastian… you know me. I’m too soft-hearted to say no.” “But I get it. Who doesn’t want to social climb a little?” A thunderclap exploded in my ears. Sebastian… How could his name be Sebastian? No, maybe it’s just a coincidence. He’s not the only Sebastian in the world. I pinched my palm hard, desperately trying to stay calm. But my blood felt like it was on fire, cold sweat breaking out in layers. I couldn’t help but lower my head further, yet I could still feel that burning gaze. I couldn’t hear what else Serena said mockingly. My left eye throbbed painfully, and tears uncontrollable welled up. Just as I was about to wipe them, the room suddenly went quiet. A moment later, Serena’s sharp voice trembled in the air: “Sebastian, what did you just say?” 5 Sebastian lifted his eyes lazily. He leaned back on the leather sofa, legs sprawled comfortably. His gaze swept lightly over the meticulously dressed Serena and landed on my face with its ruined makeup. Then, he lifted a slender finger and pointed at me. “I said, she is better looking.” The room went dead silent. Sebastian added, unhurriedly: “Considering she’s my first love, of course she’s better looking than you.” The crowd looked at each other, not daring to breathe. I could even hear Serena’s furious, rapid breathing. The next second, Serena lost it completely. She turned around, grabbed a glass of cranberry juice, and splashed it onto my face. “Bitch!” She completely forgot her disguise. “Trying to seduce my man right under my nose?” Serena grabbed my hair, about to slap me. But her wrist was caught in a vice-like grip. “Sebastian!” Serena cried out in anger. “Before you hit someone in front of me, I suggest you weigh your own importance.” Sebastian threw her hand aside, his eyes cold as the Hudson River in winter. Serena covered her face, daring not to make a scene, and ran out crying. The others tactfully left, even though they were dying of curiosity. “Violet.” Sebastian spoke, calling my name. In that instant, I felt like I was sentenced to death. The sticky juice dripped down my face, staining the cheap dress. I stared at the dark water stains. They seemed to merge with the red blood on the infirmary sheets at boarding school years ago. “Violet, don’t always look down. You’re not ugly at all.” “Really?” “Of course. They just don’t have taste.” Eighteen-year-old Sebastian was the king of our private boarding school. He gradually became unsatisfied with just holding hands and hugging. That restless summer night, in the abandoned music room. He coaxed me, unbuttoning my school shirt. When I was nervous and scared, he promised: “Trust me, babe. We are in love. This is natural.” “Sebastian, will we be together forever?” “Of course. Forever.” “But I’m scared… scared of getting pregnant…” “You won’t. Trust me. I’ve got you.” That night, white sheet music was scattered all over the floor. I remember he wouldn’t stop even when the sky turned light outside. He kissed me, biting my earlobe, whispering, “Violet, seeing you… I knew you were the one.”

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The night of my adopted sister Savannah’s seventeenth birthday. Dad blew off a major corporate dinner, and Mom gave her the vintage diamond tennis bracelet she’d been saving. Savannah wore the princess gown I’d bought her. She scolded the catering staff for unsteady hands, after a few drops of soup splattered on her hem. The server bowed low in a pathetic apology, and I smoothly played the role of the good-natured older brother. “It’s alright, she just has a stomach ache and wasn’t steady. Don’t worry, Princess.” “Your brother will buy you two more dresses tomorrow.” The server looked up gratefully, and I froze. Her face was Mom’s face. It looked exactly like my little sister, who’d gone missing twelve years ago, would look now. 1 The girl, Chen Yue, had a tiny mole on her earlobe. Her features were uncannily like Mom’s. The instant I saw her, I was certain. My biological sister, gone since she was five, was found. The moment the DNA results came back. Mom gripped her rough hands, tears streaming. “Ellie, it’s really you, we’ve been looking for you for twelve years!” Dad’s eyes were full of aching pity. “It must have been so hard for you all these years.” Savannah sat in the corner, staring at Chen Yue. Her faded, ill-fitting clothes squeezed Chen Yue’s round, slightly heavy figure. The rubber soles of her cheap sneakers were worn thin. She stood there, awkward and constrained, twisting her fingers, looking blank and bewildered. A sharp pang of sorrow hit me. Little Ellie had been like a pure, white snow-bunnly. She loved clinging to me. The first word she ever learned, when she was barely talking, was “Leo.” My own sister, reduced to this. I placed the investigation report on the coffee table, my heart heavy. “Dad, Mom, just read it for yourselves.” Chen Yue—Ellie—had been abandoned by the traffickers when she developed a high fever on the road at age five; they thought she was going to die. She was picked up by a woman, but the woman’s husband was a monster. He was an abusive alcoholic who killed his wife last year and was sentenced to death. Since then, Ellie had been completely alone. To support herself while still trying to go to school, she had worked every possible low-wage job—waitress, cleaning crew, delivery driver. She’d even lugged supplies at a warehouse construction site. Mom and Dad read the report, biting back tears, damning her adoptive father as less than human. They pulled her into a hug, softly patting her back. “Ellie, don’t be afraid. Dad is here. We’ll change your name this week and enroll you in the best private prep school. No one will ever hurt you again!” “My poor daughter, I’m so sorry we let you suffer for so long! It’s all my fault, my fault…” Ellie’s, no, Elena’s, eyes reddened too. She stiffly managed to say, “Mom and Dad.” My eyes felt hot. “Ellie, I’m your brother, Leo. From now on, I’m your protection.” We were immersed in the joy of finally having her back, lost and then found. Until Savannah, pale-faced, brought over a platter of sliced fruit. The girl who was normally so delicate had a testing look on her face. “Have some fruit, everyone.” “Mom, please stop crying. You just had that expensive eye treatment yesterday.” Mom wiped her eyes and playfully glared at her. “I never thought I’d live to see the day you cut up fruit for us.” Savannah had been in the kitchen maybe a handful of times her entire life. She’d never had to lift a finger; everything was done by Mom or the staff. She clenched her hand, pouting slightly. Mom’s sharp eyes spotted the blood. She quickly walked over and took Savannah’s hand, instantly worried. “What happened to your hand?” “I touched the blade when I was cutting.” “Why are you so careless? Rick, quick, get the first-aid kit.” Dad was instantly concerned and hurried into the house. I got up to check the knives in the kitchen, worried she’d left them lying around without common sense, like she sometimes did when she was younger. The three of us fussed over Savannah for a good while. Once a colorful bandage was applied, we remembered Elena, who was still sitting silently nearby, her eyes empty. The atmosphere turned strangely awkward. I explained, “Ellie, this is Savannah. When I was looking for you all those years ago, I heard a baby crying and found her abandoned in a box. She’s like you, she’s had a tough start. Now you’re sisters. Look out for each other.” Savannah put on a friendly smile, walked over, and extended her hand. “Welcome home, big sister. My room gets the best light, so I’ll move out tonight and let you have it.” “And you can pick whatever you want from my things. Though I don’t think my clothes or shoes will fit.” She looked Elena up and down, then playfully stuck out her tongue. “You’re bigger than me, sister, and your feet are huge, so I guess I can’t share those.” “Ah, but maybe that means you haven’t had it too bad all these years. Otherwise, why the happy weight?” Elena’s face flushed crimson. After a long pause, she managed two clipped words. “I don’t need it.” I felt a prickle of discomfort. Why was she so cold to Savannah? Before I could speak, I heard Mom say, “Ellie, you need to be polite.” “Savannah, there’s plenty of room in this house. There’s no need to move around.” In the end, Elena was placed in the room next to mine. It was always cool and had previously been Savannah’s storage room. It was the only available space for now, and I was sure Elena would understand. Elena only brought two things from the run-down apartment: a photo of her and her adoptive mother, and a scruffy orange mutt. Mom and Dad instantly frowned. Dad was a stickler for cleanliness and didn’t like animals inside. Mom wrinkled her nose at the sight of a common stray. But, considering Elena’s feelings, they said nothing. Savannah hugged her arms, fear flickering in her eyes. “I’m scared of dogs.” When did she become afraid of dogs? I didn’t dwell on it. Elena held the dog tightly, her head bowed, looking vulnerable but resolute. “I only want him.” Dad and Mom looked displeased. Savannah said, with a hint of something unreadable, “Sister, you said you couldn’t afford food, but you had money left over to keep a dog?” I intervened, easing the tension. “Savannah, don’t talk nonsense. This dog must be very important to Ellie.” “There’s a small utility room behind the backyard gazebo. We can keep him there.” Elena’s eyes lit up, and she looked at me with gratitude. We spent the day getting new things for Elena. That evening, I brought a box of limited-edition chocolates I’d bought on a business trip to talk to her. “Ellie, are you settling in okay?” “Yes,” she nodded obediently. I wanted to run my hand through her hair but stopped myself, noticing how coarse and split the ends were. “Dad pulled some strings, and the papers are rushed. You and Savannah will start school together tomorrow.” “The private school curriculum is different, and the pace is faster, so Mom hired a tutor for you.” “If you need anything at all, just tell me. Your brother is always here for you.” Elena nodded sincerely. “Thank you.” My gaze drifted to the utility room in the backyard. “Is the little dog special?” Elena glanced at me shyly and explained, “His name is Gus. He was always with me.” “When I was completely broke, he wandered into a diner. The owner thought he was cute, gave me a meal, and let me stay to wash dishes.” “He’s my family.” My heart felt heavy. If she hadn’t been lost, she would be as confident and bright as Savannah. How could she have been left to starve and freeze? I wanted to console her, but looking at her thick frame, I suddenly couldn’t find the words. Savannah’s voice echoed in my ear. Someone who was truly suffering—would they be that heavy? From that day on. Dad went back to his normal work schedule, and I continued my internship at the company. Mom attended her regular society luncheons, dividing her time to care for us all. Elena and Savannah took the same car to and from school. Savannah was openly solicitous of Elena, always deferring to her. She’d help her with missed homework packets, wait for her after school, and put her favorite dishes on her plate at dinner. But Elena never returned the kindness. She never touched the food Savannah served her. She would constantly come home late, claiming someone had blocked her, locked her in the bathroom, or mocked her. She even said Savannah had deliberately hidden a test paper. I didn’t believe Savannah would bully her, but I worried about Elena being a target. Mom and Dad consulted the teachers, who confirmed nothing of the sort had happened. I picked Elena up a few times myself. Each time, her classmates were nothing but friendly. It was Elena who seemed like a porcupine—isolated, irritable, and quick to anger. We reluctantly held a small family meeting. Dad looked at Elena with disappointment. “Ellie, why did you lie?” “I didn’t lie.” Elena was frantic, sweat beading on her round, slick face, her fringe sticking together in strands. I felt a twinge of mild disgust. I turned to look at the clean, composed Savannah, and my eyes felt better. “They knew you were coming to pick me up, so they pretended to be nice!” “Are you saying Savannah alerted them? And the teachers are covering for them?” Elena stubbornly thrust out her neck, admitting it by silence. Savannah trembled, biting her lip, swallowing her pride. “If Sister says so, then it must be true. I apologize, I’m sorry.” A surge of anger rose in me. Since Elena came back, Savannah had been nothing but warm, only to be met with constant coldness. My cherished little sister—why should she be unhappy because of her? Mom was heartbroken. “You’re such a good kid, Savannah. What if she keeps bullying you?” She looked at Elena, her face hardening. “Ellie, we’ve indulged you because you suffered for over a decade. We understand you want family love and attention.” “But there’s a limit to how spoiled you can be. No well-raised child would slander her sister out of jealousy.” “We’ll let this slide, but I expect you to change. Don’t act like those bad kids.” Mom and Dad didn’t want Savannah to be sad, so they took her to an amusement park and asked me to drive. When I came back down with the car keys, the living room was empty except for Elena, sitting alone, clutching her stomach. She seemed to be in pain. “Leo, do you believe me?” I didn’t turn around. “Ellie, senior year is important. Focus on your studies.” “We treat you and Savannah exactly the same. Don’t overthink things, and don’t make trouble.” I couldn’t indulge her anymore; she had to learn. I hardened my heart and strode out, faintly hearing a choked gasp. Elena did change. She stopped accusing Savannah. When she came home late, she only said she was studying. She spent more time with Gus in the garden. Dad decided it was unfair for Savannah to have to wait for her every day, so he hired another driver. A week passed smoothly. But Mom and Dad weren’t happy. Thanks to Elena’s resemblance to Mom, when they met neighbors, everyone was shocked that the biological daughter of the Sullivans looked the way she did. No self-control, no grace, no style, timid and silent. She was leagues behind the poised and elegant Savannah. Mom was subtly mocked a few times and felt humiliated. She complained to us privately. “I wish Savannah were my real daughter.” I saw a shadow flicker outside the door but said nothing. Elena started dieting. She ate only one small meal a day, always boiled vegetables. She often stared blankly at Savannah. Savannah was surprised. “Sister, do you want to be as thin as me? But I was born this way; I can eat anything and not gain weight.” Mom didn’t stop Elena’s diet; she even gave her advice on losing weight. But I saw Elena drag her exhausted body back from school every night, and I hesitated. “Maybe take a break, Ellie. High school students need nutrition for all the studying.” Her dark, deep-set eyes looked up at me. “Isn’t this what you wanted, Leo?” I was suddenly speechless. … Elena’s weight loss made no progress; she was even heavier, and her health was visibly worse. Standing next to Mom, she looked like an older, worn-out helper. Her face was sallow, and she kept to herself, knowing her place. To try and please us, she started getting up early to make breakfast. Mom and Dad didn’t touch it, saying it wasn’t hygienic to mix dough without gloves. Mom complained that she had no concept of ‘luxury’ or ‘quality.’ Elena looked deflated and stopped. The high-end gated community always held an annual Owners’ Gala. It was a chance to network and scout business opportunities, and our family attended every year. This year, because of a rainy July, it was set for August. Mom often dragged Savannah along to pick out dresses. She kept choosing, but nothing felt special enough. She wanted bespoke, vintage-inspired gowns and suits. The tailor’s schedule was booked for over a month. When Mom sighed in frustration, Elena spoke up hesitantly. “Mom, I can make them.” Mom was skeptical. “My… my foster mother was a tailor. I learned from her since I was little. I can make gowns.” Mom gave a strange little laugh. “Fine. You make them, then. The whole family is counting on you.” Afterward, Mom complained to me bitterly. “Her personality is bad enough, now she’s a liar, too. Let’s see how she gets out of this one.” I knew Mom just wanted to teach her a lesson. I did, too. Her opportunistic character would lead to trouble later. Better for us to correct her now than for society to beat her down. But Elena was more serious than we imagined. She took measurements, bought sewing tools, and the best fabric she could afford. Except for tutoring and walking Gus, she locked herself in her room, sewing day and night. Several times, she was found asleep, clutching her stomach and slumped over the sewing machine. There were pain pills nearby. Probably her period, I thought. I told the housekeeper to take up some ginger tea. The night before the Gala, her hands dotted with tiny needle pricks, she presented two gowns and two suits. Her eyes were bright, full of expectation. “Mom, they’re finished.” There was a moment of stunned silence. Mom took them, her expression complex. “You actually… well, thank you.” Elena twisted her fingers, her voice surprisingly light. “As long as you like them, Mom.” I noticed the count was wrong. “Why are there only four? What about yours?” Elena clutched the hem of the suit, lowering her gaze. “…I didn’t have time. You all go, I’ll stay home to study.” Mom looked relieved, yet regretful. “That’s right, your test scores last semester weren’t great. You should focus on your work.” Elena nodded obediently and returned to her studies. I watched her retreating back, lost in thought for a long moment. I’d seen it. The fifth outfit was done, a matching family set. The neckline embroidered with cherry blossoms. But, her not going was the better choice. It was always painful to be mocked. The next day, Mom gave us the clothes. But they weren’t the ones Elena made. “I didn’t even look at them. She’s so young; what quality could she produce?” “Everyone at the Gala wears custom designer items. How could I possibly wear something from an unknown source?” Mom sighed, her voice low. “It’s her fault, too. She couldn’t read between the lines, forcing me to be the villain and turn her down.” Savannah twirled in the gauze dress she was wearing, doing a graceful little dance. “Mom, my taste is good, right? I told you, you get what you pay for. You have to spend money for true luxury.” Dad and Mom praised her. I was also cheered by her lighthearted spirit. As a family, we headed to the Gala. I glanced back once, seeing a lone figure slumped by the upstairs window, a collar embroidered with cherry blossoms just visible. I flashed on her sleepless, dark-circled eyes, and felt a brief moment of unsettling guilt. Savannah sweetly took my arm. “Leo, why don’t we invite Sister? Other people’s opinions don’t matter, family unity is what’s important.” “No need. She said she didn’t want to go. You’re too kind, Savannah.” That day, we posted a nine-photo grid on social media. Elena did not like the post. Mom laughed, calling her petty. Elena spent even more time locked in her room studying. Savannah, however, was always dressed up and going out. She’d sometimes laugh out loud while looking at her phone at the dinner table. She also started asking for more money. We always gave it to her—girls in her social circle had to keep up appearances. She went on a half-month trip with her friends. Mom and Dad missed her terribly. When they tried to video call, she hung up impatiently, saying she was busy. I laughed, comforting my disappointed parents. “It’s your fault for spoiling her, she’s always been dramatic.” Mom glared at me. “You haven’t exactly held back on spoiling her either.” Savannah lowered her head, quietly eating her rice. Summer flew by. Just before school started, Savannah sought out Mom, Dad, and me, her face grave. “Dad, Mom, Leo, Ellie is my sister. I’ve thought hard, and I can’t cover for her anymore.” Her eyes darted around the room. “Yesterday, I went with my friend to a clinic for a routine checkup, and I saw Sister going into the Women’s Health department…”

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For three days, I hadn’t submitted a single expense request through the corporate system to Grant. He must have assumed I was finally learning how to be a proper high-society wife, because he sent a text message, a condescending gesture of reward. “I’ve resumed your mother’s treatment. Learn your lesson now—stop lying and padding your requests for extra cash.” “I know it’s hard for people from your background, but my money isn’t that easy to steal.” What he didn’t know was that by the time I received that text, I had already finalized the divorce papers. The only thing I could take with me was the white T-shirt and worn jeans I’d been wearing the day I moved in. No one would believe that Eleanor Stone, the glamorous wife of Grant Harrington, didn’t own four respectable pieces of clothing after three years of marriage. Every private expenditure had to be filed through the corporate expense system. All my clothes and jewelry were kept under lock and key in a walk-in safe, and I had to apply to his secretary, Serena Wu, just to access them. It was because he despised my humble origins. He was convinced I would acquire the “bad habit” of reckless spending, common among the newly rich. Three days ago, my adoptive mother’s condition worsened critically. I filed an urgent request for twenty thousand dollars for surgery. Serena, however, deliberately stalled the expense approval, a delay that cost my mother her life. She died in that hospital bed. Grant never understood. The only reason I endured him for so long was for the exclusive medical resources his company controlled—the only resources that could have saved her. Now that she was gone, there was nothing left to stay for. 1 I told Grant I wanted a divorce, but he refused. His response was a cold, three-word text: “Stop the drama.” When he finally spoke to me, his eyes never left the glow of his laptop screen. It was as if the dry electronic data held more interest for him than the conversation with his wife. I lowered my gaze, my voice steady. “I’m serious, Grant. I want a divorce.” He stood up, inhaling deeply, his expression chillingly detached. “The pause in your mother’s treatment? I authorized it. It had nothing to do with Serena; she was just following orders.” “If you hadn’t barged into my office and made a scene, I wouldn’t have felt the need to teach you a lesson.” “I had the treatment reinstated yesterday. My time is precious. I don’t have time for your temper tantrums.” He turned and walked away before I could reply, convinced that it wouldn’t be long before I came crawling back, head bowed. He was sure I’d swallow my pride and start trying to please him again, just like before. Even when he’d told me to my face, “Don’t be so desperate for my attention, it’s frankly disgusting.” I would just smile and silently return to being the dutiful, long-suffering housekeeper. But whether the treatment was reinstated now or not no longer mattered. If Grant had just taken my call three days ago, I might still be here, flattering him, bending over backward for him. But he was always too impatient to talk to me. I begged him not to hang up that day, pleaded for him to hear me out. But my desperate cries were instantly drowned out by Serena’s smooth, poisonous voice. “Is Eleanor upset because I reminded her to follow proper protocol, Grant?” She sounded delicate, wounded. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just don’t want her to keep those messy, unplanned habits from her old life. If I stick strictly to the rules, she’ll learn discipline.” Hearing that, Grant’s impatience with my call sharpened. Ignoring my pleas, he delivered a cold, final command: “Do exactly what Serena says.” It was always the same whenever I needed him. “I’m busy. Talk to the secretary.” “Listen to Serena.” “Do whatever Serena tells you to do.” I was his wife, yet I had no dignity. Forget having a normal life. Even for the necessary social functions of a Grant Harrington wife—the ones I was required to attend—I had to submit an application for approval from his secretary. Every time, Serena would smile brightly and casually reject the ridiculous request. “Ellie, the description isn’t detailed enough. Rewrite it, please.” “The gala ends at 10 PM. Why did you write 12 AM? That’s not acceptable.” “Ellie, why are you always like this? Didn’t I tell you to review your application before submitting? Check it again.” She always ensured the approval came at the very last second, then she would watch, smiling sweetly, as I frantically scrambled to reach the venue, often late, often looking like a mess for the sake of a necklace or a dress. When I inevitably arrived late, Grant would look at me with palpable displeasure. “Eleanor, don’t you have a sense of time management?” “You can’t even handle a small task like this. Do you see now why you could never measure up to Serena?” But I couldn’t handle that small task. I was constantly late. All because of Grant Harrington’s “excellent secretary” and “virtuous assistant.” He couldn’t see it, or he simply didn’t care. Just as he knew my mother’s illness couldn’t tolerate delay or a break in medication. Yet, he still snapped at me irritably over the phone. “How many times do I have to tell you? If you need money urgently, go to Serena. Do you think she wouldn’t give it to you?” Getting money from Serena was, as always, an ordeal. “What kind of emergency needs twenty thousand dollars upfront? Ellie, are you just inventing excuses to get cash?” “Twenty thousand isn’t a small amount. I need an itemized receipt before I can approve it, darling. Application denied for now.” I explained it was an estimated pre-payment, and the final receipt would only be issued upon discharge. Serena curved her lips into a smirk. She feigned realization. “Oh, is that how it works? I wouldn’t know; everyone in my family is perfectly healthy.” “But expense approvals are very strict. We can’t let violations slide. How about you get a formal policy document from the hospital and attach it? Then I’ll approve it. Denied for now.” Later, she tried another tactic. “Hospitals sometimes fake documents, don’t they? I’m not saying you would, Ellie, but the possibility exists.” “Why don’t you attach the industry regulations instead?” And just like that, the critical time for emergency treatment was pushed back and back by Serena. By the time I finally received the money, even the most exceptional medical team was powerless to reverse the outcome. A continuous knot of hatred and anguish tightened around my heart. A suffocating feeling, beyond description, filled my chest. This marriage was a cage that restrained me. I had to escape. The moment I clearly understood my next steps, I suddenly felt light. It was as if the invisible shackles I’d carried for years had abruptly vanished. So when I received Serena’s defiant social media post—a picture clearly meant to provoke me—I felt absolutely nothing. I was calm enough to screenshot it and even click the ‘like’ button. Whenever Serena was involved, Grant’s messages always came quickly. “Serena has done great work lately. I’m simply taking my employee out to dinner. Don’t start any ridiculous rumors, Eleanor, and don’t make people misunderstand the situation.” I don’t know what Serena had told him this time, but he followed up with a self-righteous demand. “You already liked the post. If you take it back, people will get the wrong idea about Serena.” “Leave a comment, praising her work. Consider it encouragement from both of us, as a couple.” I didn’t intend to respond. But I thought about it, and the bitterness in my stomach was too much to swallow. So I complied with Grant’s demand. I commented on Serena’s post: “Serena, your dedication is admirable. Your impartial application of the corporate expense policy to both your boss’s wife and your co-workers, and your use of a simple system to wield the maximum amount of petty tyranny, is exemplary. Keep up the good work and the excellent wickedness.” “Every penny you save for the corporation now is a potential increase in your future alimony, should you succeed. Thumbs up.” I tossed my phone aside after replying. I began to calmly pack my things. My phone kept buzzing the entire time, but I ignored it. Packing didn’t take long. After all, every single valuable item supposedly belonging to me was locked securely behind a password-protected closet door and a triple-locked safe. For years, I had been a temporary guest in this house. Even my presence left only the shallowest trace. Now that my eyes were open, I finally understood the truth. 2 Grant arrived home fast. I had to admit it again: when it came to Serena, he was always prompt, never dragging his feet. He didn’t seem to notice the small suitcase by my feet, his eyes blazing with fury. “Did you not hear me calling you?” I was indifferent. “I heard it. I chose not to answer.” Grant looked at me as if I’d spoken an utterly ridiculous line, genuinely unable to comprehend my refusal. “I told you! Serena’s work has been excellent lately. I simply took her out for dinner.” “Do you have any idea how many people in the company already misunderstand her? How is she supposed to maintain her reputation after you post something like that?” I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a cold laugh. “Well, it seems not everyone is blind, then. Turns out, some people know exactly what she’s been up to.” I looked at Grant. “Besides, I’m not her mother. Why should I worry about whether her life at the company is easy or not?” Grant’s face darkened instantly. “Eleanor, when did you become one of those vulgar people who listen to every baseless rumor?” “You know how difficult it is for a young woman to achieve a high-ranking position in the corporate world. Why are you spreading slander and insulting another excellent woman? If you hadn’t thrown that fit at the office last time, would Serena have had to endure this?” His eyes were full of exhaustion and accusation. “You want to be an unproductive socialite? I won’t fault you for that. I’m happy to keep you in luxury. But not all women are as short-sighted and useless as you are.” “If you continue to be malicious and slanderous toward Serena, don’t test me. Think about your mother.” I finally burst out laughing. My voice was raw with grief and pain. Right in front of Grant, I opened my suitcase. “Luxury? Take a look at the life of luxury I lead in your house.” “I’m leaving, and I can’t pack four decent items of clothing. I have to file an expense report just to get a haircut, asking your esteemed secretary for permission. The nanny’s monthly salary is higher than mine, the wife of Grant Harrington!” I grabbed Grant’s arm and forcefully dragged him to the walk-in closet, pointing at the combination lock on the door. “Do you even know how to open this lock? It requires a code and a fingerprint scan. Even your company’s confidential files aren’t secured this tightly!” “What kind of wife living in ‘luxury’ has to beg for her daily necessities like a mistress living off scraps from her husband’s secretary?” Incredulity was etched all over Grant’s face. He looked bewildered. “Is this why?” “Is this why you’re jealous of Serena? Why you ran to the office to ruin her reputation?” Hearing his question, my heart sank completely. Everything I’d just said was utterly wasted on him. If Grant had believed for one second that this was wrong, that it was insulting and degrading to me, he would have stopped it years ago. For all these years, he had indulged every ridiculous suggestion Serena made, putting my basic necessities under the corporate expense system. I lowered my eyes. “Fine. Think whatever you want.” “We’re getting a divorce.” Hearing my absolute certainty, Grant actually smiled. His expression was one of knowing condescension. “That’s enough, Eleanor. I don’t have time to coddle you.” “Your drama is just a cheap stunt to compete with my secretary. Don’t assume all women are petty and small-minded like you.” He slowly smoothed the wrinkles I’d created when I grabbed his shirt, sounding as if he were making a massive concession. “Tomorrow, I’ll arrange for the best medical team from overseas to treat your mother. I’ll also have Serena give you the codes for the closet and the safe, and change the fingerprint access to yours.” “From now on, the finance department will wire you ten thousand dollars a month. No more expense forms.” After all our years together, I knew Grant well. For him, this was the ultimate compromise. Logically, I should have accepted the truce. But I was truly sick of this three-person relationship. No—perhaps I had never been truly involved in the first place. Even now, he made all these promises, yet he didn’t say a single word about Serena’s actions. We both knew the ridiculous expense protocol was her sick joke. The man in front of me casually agreed to change the system. It meant he simply didn’t care. If I accepted his arrangement now and returned to being Mrs. Harrington, Serena would still be a permanent fixture in our lives. “I don’t want any of it. I just want a divorce.” Grant finally realized I wasn’t just throwing a tantrum. Not only was I rejecting his peace offering, but I was determined to leave. His impatience instantly curdled into rage. “Eleanor, don’t forget the prenuptial agreement! You won’t get a dime if you divorce me!” “And what about your family business, and your mother’s illness? Do you really think your stepfather—the one with the new family—will take care of her without me?” Of course, he wouldn’t. I was painfully aware that if that ungrateful man hadn’t abandoned my mother and forced me into a corner, I never would have agreed to this absurd marriage in the first place. Grant and I were parallel lines that were momentarily forced to intersect. Now, all I was doing was letting things return to their proper course. I zipped up my suitcase again, my voice neutral. “I don’t care.” Grant froze, confused as to why his historically foolproof methods no longer worked. But his ego wouldn’t allow him to beg. So he simply watched, silent, as I walked to the door. Right as I pulled the door open, Grant almost gave in to the sudden terror and called out my name. But then he remembered what Serena had told him. “The wife is just bored at home, Grant. She wants to play out a scene from a bad soap opera.” “I’ve seen plenty of women spoiled by the good life. Just ignore her, let her stew, and she’ll come running back soon enough, apologizing to you.” She will be back, Grant thought, fighting his rising anxiety. He reached into his pocket but pulled out only a piece of handmade pear candy. He often coughed after smoking, especially when the weather was dry, so I had found many small ways to help him feel better. She isn’t completely useless, Grant conceded to himself. When she comes back, I’ll make sure she apologizes properly, sincerely regrets this, and never threatens me with divorce again. He quickly convinced himself. 3 After leaving Grant, I hesitated for a long time before going to see my old professor. When Professor Adler, her hair now completely white, saw me dragging my thin suitcase, she didn’t say a word. She simply stepped aside, gesturing me into her home, just as she had for all my visits years ago. My eyes instantly welled up, and tears began to fall. She had been the fiercest opponent of my decision to quit school and marry. Even on my wedding day, she didn’t stop texting me. “Ellie, hardship is temporary. There is no obstacle you can’t overcome.” “You can find another way to solve your problem. Don’t be foolish and sacrifice your entire life.” “The trophy wife life looks good on paper, but your contributions are invisible. Your degree will be a temporary halo, but you will always be a beggar, dependent on others for money. And when you beg, you always have to bow.” Time had proven Professor Adler correct in every way. Initially, Grant was impressed by my degree. But then Serena entered his life. She claimed that since I had been a ‘street urchin’ before my adoption, a college degree couldn’t erase the bad habits I’d learned in my youth. She said I needed to learn the rules of their class and develop good spending habits. I was the one asking Grant for money. He could choose to give it to me, choose not to give it to me, or choose to give it to me in the most humiliating way possible. I cried until I had nothing left. Professor Adler finally spoke, her voice calm. “I hope you haven’t forgotten your skills.” “I have a job here, field research that requires hiking and deep data collection. Are you in?” I was momentarily stunned. I hadn’t expected my mentor not only to welcome me but to offer the very thing I needed most—work. She frowned slightly. “What? Have you gotten too used to the good life of a socialite? Can you no longer handle the grind of us working stiffs?” The tears were still on my face, but I managed a genuine smile. “I can handle it, Professor. For myself, I’ll endure any hardship.” Professor Adler smiled warmly, immediately shifting into action. “If you agree, contact the team quickly. This is work, not a TV drama. We don’t have time for self-pity.” Under her arrangement, I quickly joined the research team. At first, I struggled to adjust. But as the days passed, the knowledge and operating procedures etched into my soul surfaced. I became increasingly adept. The serious, unsmiling team leader gave me a thumbs-up. “I was worried you’d be too delicate. But you’re proof that great teachers produce great students.” I smiled back. “Everyone is just looking out for me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have adjusted so fast…” Just as we were joking around, an inappropriate call rang out. “Eleanor?” I turned to see Serena, dressed in high fashion, clutching a brand-new designer handbag. She looked dismissively at the people around me. “I wondered why you suddenly started demanding a divorce from Grant. Turns out you’re just slipping back to your old habits, slumming it with these sorts of low-lifes again.” She wrinkled her nose as if speaking to us was a generous gift. My face went cold. We were measuring data like savages, and we probably looked a mess, but that wasn’t an excuse for her to insult us. “Serena Wu, are you a cockroach? Are you everywhere I go?” Serena’s face flushed. A deeply familiar man emerged from behind her. “What’s wrong?” Hearing his question, Serena’s eyes reddened, and she spoke in a soft, injured voice. “Nothing, darling. It’s just that Eleanor has been gone for so long, and I saw her here, mixed up with some rough-looking people, obviously stalking us. I just tried to talk some sense into her…” “But she completely misunderstood…” Grant finally noticed me standing opposite him. He frowned slightly. His eyes held an air of knowing dismissal. “Eleanor, are you harassing Serena again? If you’re here to apologize to me, you need to apologize to Serena first!” I rolled my eyes and, with a gesture, led my team away. A female colleague beside me whispered, “Ellie, who was that?” I sneered. “My blind, brainless ex-husband.” Grant’s face darkened, and he demanded, “Eleanor! You followed us all the way out here. How long are you going to keep this up?” “You’ve been gone for weeks, showing no concern for your mother. Where is your conscience? Are you really going to force me to cut off her medical funding?” I looked at him with profound weariness, my voice flat. “Just do it, then. It’s the thing you do best, isn’t it?” Stung by my look of utter contempt and coldness, Grant couldn’t tell whether he felt more anger or the dawning fear of loss. He immediately pulled out his phone, missing the flicker of panic on Serena’s face. “Grant, maybe we shouldn’t…” Grant pushed down Serena’s hand, which was clutching his arm, and spoke to her with sudden, chilling finality. “She needs a lesson. Otherwise, she’ll never learn how to be Mrs. Harrington!” The assistant on the other end of the line sounded hesitant after receiving the order.

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I kidnapped the Crown Prince of New York’s elite for fifty thousand dollars. I dragged him to a cabin in the woods and called my boss, a local mobster. “What do I do with him?” “Slap him,” the boss said. The signal in the mountains was terrible. I heard “Kiss him.” So I leaned in and planted one on him. The next second, text floated across my vision like a live stream chat: […She’s not just hungry for money, she’s deaf.] [Nah, she’s just thirsty. Look at Mia drooling.] [Mia just wanted to kiss him, she’s pretending she heard wrong.] Chapter 1 I suspect my boss isn’t in the underworld. He’s in the adult film industry. The evidence? He gave me two very suggestive orders. First: “Slap him.” “Kiss him?” I repeated into the phone. Usually, kidnapping involves punching and kicking. Ours involves kissing? “Boss, are you sure?” “Hurry up,” the boss ordered from the other end. “Until he bleeds.” “Bleed?” I gulped. “It’s my first time doing this.” Kinda embarrassing. “Practice makes perfect…” “Boss, I’ve read plenty of romance novels, but I lack practical experience.” “What practical experience… this is practical experience!” The signal was cutting out, mixed with static. “Stop wasting time…” “Do it or not…” “Do you want the money?” At the mention of money, I panicked. “Yes, yes, yes.” I laughed nervously into the phone. “Boss, I’m kissing him now.” I looked down at Asher Sterling, the heir to a New York empire, tied up like a Thanksgiving turkey. He was wearing nothing but a grey bathrobe. His chest, flushed pink, was exposed to the cold mountain air. If not for the ropes, the loose belt around his waist would have slipped off completely. I didn’t dare look, but I couldn’t help stealing a few glances. I whispered, “So… sorry.” I meant to grab his collar and give him a peck. But Asher’s body, toned from years of gym sessions, was firmer than it looked. I didn’t pull him up; instead, inertia sent me crashing down onto him. My teeth slammed hard against his soft lips. “Hiss—” Asher sucked in a breath instinctively, a trace of blood oozing from the corner of his mouth. Technically, I kissed him. And he bled. “Done, boss.” The next second, the boss’s satisfied voice came through: “Good job.” For some reason, floating text appeared before my eyes: […She’s not just hungry for money, she’s deaf.] [Nah, she’s just thirsty. Look at Mia drooling.] [Mia just wanted to kiss him, she’s pretending she heard wrong.] Before I could read the comments carefully, a thought struck me. I pressed my hands against Asher’s chest, half-sitting on him, and asked: “Do you have H. pylori?” The text changed: [What the hell is H. pylori doing here?] [LMAO I’m dying.] [Wait, the victim hasn’t even spoken yet.] [Why is Mia so goofy right now? Kinda cute.] […] Chapter 2 Second order: “Beat him.” “Huh?” Sleep with him? “Boss… isn’t that a bit much?” First kissing, now sleeping? “Beat him until he’s half-dead.” Is he trying to ruin his reputation? What a sinister, cunning plan. Sleep with him until he’s half-dead… That’s pretty brutal… I picked at my fingernails, negotiating: “Boss, since it’s my first time, can you add another ten grand?” “You’re bargaining?” “No, no.” I changed my tune immediately. Fifty grand plus sleeping with Asher Sterling? I’m winning either way. “Boss, when do I get the fifty grand?” “Do as I say first. The Sterling family will bring the ransom tomorrow.” I hung up. Asher lay on the floor, his face dark, gritting out through his teeth: “Mia Stone!” “You recognized me?” My heart skipped a beat. Exposed so soon? Then I really can’t let him go. Asher and I met when we were kids. When I was five, my mom took me to Asher’s birthday party. Before leaving, I cried and rolled on the floor, demanding to marry Asher, relying on my mom’s friendship with Mrs. Sterling to demand an arranged marriage. “Heh.” I stood up, dusting myself off nonchalantly. “Still holding a grudge after all these years.” But I was no longer the spoiled Stone heiress. When I was ten, my mom died, and my father remarried. I found out I had a half-sister, Chloe Stone. Thus began my long life of “living under someone else’s roof.” Just last week, I got an acceptance letter from an art school in Paris, planning to leave the Stone family forever. But my stepmother incited my father to marry me off to the youngest son of the Thorne family for a business alliance. Chloe would marry Asher instead. It didn’t matter who I married, until I accidentally found out the Thorne son had anger issues and liked to hit people. I wanted to run, but Chloe stole the bank card my mom left me. Desperate, I contacted a guy from the underground and kidnapped the freshly returned Prince of New York. “You want money that badly?” “Yeah.” I’m taking risks, walking on the edge of a blade. Isn’t it obvious? “How much?” “Fifty thousand.” Asher frowned. “Dollars?” “Yeah.” Asher’s face turned darker. “Pathetic.” Why is he insulting me? Chapter 3 Even the floating text was mocking me: [Girl, you kidnapped Asher Sterling, the Prince of New York, for fifty grand?] [Stealing one of his shirts would get you more than that ransom.] [Suddenly I feel bad for Mia. I feel like I’d only dare ask for fifty grand too.] [That Patek Philippe on his wrist is worth five million buns.] [Patek Philippe, Patek Philippe, Patek Philippe…] What Patek Philippe? What five million buns? I ignored the text. Squatting down, I pondered how to sleep with the man in front of me. Asher was radiating heat, and my head was spinning. Thinking about what I had to do, my fingers trembled. Next time I kidnap someone, I need to clarify if it’s a hit job or a… hit job. “Scared?” Asher looked at me, lacking any professional hostage decorum. “Scared?” I puffed out my chest. “Joke.” I straddled him, fumbling for the next step. The knots in the rope were tricky. I got anxious, sweat beading on my forehead. Asher’s eyes held a smile, his voice muffled: “Need help?” I hid my panic, barking fiercely: “Don’t move, you’re distracting me.” He trembled slightly. A low chuckle spread through the small room. The text: [Ahhh, am I the only one shipping this?] [The male lead seems so indulgent.] [Why is Mia so clumsy?] [I can’t wait for the next part!] Indulgent? It looked like blatant provocation to me. In my haste, my hand slipped and pressed down hard. He frowned instantly, sucking in a breath: “My…” I scratched my head. “Sorry, no experience.” Asher’s mouth twitched. “Should I do it?” “???” Is that appropriate? My hand, reaching for his pants, froze. I bent down, pulled off one of his socks, and stuffed it in his mouth. “I’m the kidnapper, or are you?” The silence in the comments was deafening: […] […] […] [Great, she’s straight as an arrow. We’re doomed.] Chapter 4 With Asher gagged, the world was much quieter. My hands moved faster. I stripped Asher to the waist in seconds. Bronzed skin, defined muscles, a lean waist… And those collarbones. My ears burned, blood rushing to my head. For a collarbone fetishist like me, this was too tempting. I pressed down on his chest and bit… The text: [Male lead’s body is top tier.] [I can’t help it either.] [Warning: High energy ahead. Big doings.] [The author actually wrote this? I came for this scene.] [Too bad Mia has no stamina, she’s about to faint from low blood sugar.] [Boohoo, I wanted to see 300 rounds.] [Upstairs, you’re thirsty too.] I paused. Who are they looking down on? Faint? Okay. Maybe. I haven’t eaten in three days. Sure enough, halfway through, my last bit of strength drained away. “Pain—” My body felt like it was falling apart. The text went crazy: [Wait, that’s it?] [Wasn’t it supposed to be big doings?] [Mia, get up and continue!] I was about to close my eyes in annoyance when I saw the last line of small text: [Am I the only money-grubber still thinking about the male lead’s five-million-dollar Patek Philippe?] My dizzy brain cleared instantly. Five million… watch? Holding up my pants with one hand, I groped for Asher’s watch with the other. I took it off and examined it. “Looks pretty ordinary.” “Real or fake five million?” “Doesn’t look like it.” I took out my phone to scan the price. 360 degrees, couldn’t scan it. The text: […] [Great, she’s checking Amazon. We’re done.] [You idiot, Amazon won’t have that.] Right. I opened eBay. […] [Mia doesn’t think eBay will have it, right?] [You have to check the official website.] [Damn it, just ask the guy!] Agreed. I pulled the sock out of Asher’s mouth. “How much is this watch?” Asher didn’t speak, staring at me with lowered eyes, his cheeks flushed. I played with the watch, suspicious. “Looks pretty ordinary.” Asher’s eyes darkened, his voice low: “You stop now to ask this?” “I gave up resisting, and you stop?” “It’s only five million.” I stopped playing with it instantly, cradling it in my palms. Only. Five. Million. Damn, who said this watch was ordinary? It’s magnificent. The text urged: [Forget the watch, do the deed!] [My pants are off, don’t stop!] [The male lead is dying here.] [I paid VIP for this.] [Mia, stop looking at the watch, get to work!]

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On the surface, I’m the school’s resident pretty girl with a hollow head—a total academic failure. But behind closed doors, I’m terrifyingly disciplined, grinding through practice exams until 2 AM every night. To boost my GPA, I’m simultaneously juggling three “tutors.” They happen to be the three top students at Oakwood Academy: the STEM genius, the Literature prodigy, and the Debate champion. I thought I was managing my schedule perfectly. I thought my secret was safe. That is, until I accidentally saw a group chat on one of their phones. Caleb (STEM God): [Harper is studying Physics with me tonight. Don’t overload her with other homework.] Sebastian (Lit Genius): [Don’t keep her too late. I need to go over the reading list with her afterwards.] Adrian (Debate King): [So, serious question… after graduation, which one of us do you think she’s going to pick?] I panicked. I dropped the phone and turned to flee, only to find the three of them blocking the doorway, arms crossed, staring right at me. 1 I am famous at Oakwood Academy. Famous for having top-tier looks and bottom-tier grades. I sit comfortably at the very bottom of the class rankings. In the latest Calculus exam, I achieved a spectacular score of 8%. Mr. Harrison, usually the mildest teacher in the school, was chasing me down the hall with my test paper. “Harper Sterling! If I threw a scantron sheet on the floor and stepped on it, I’d score higher than an eight! How did you manage to dodge every single correct answer?” “We are a prep school! This is an Honors class! How did you even get in here?” I picked up the crumpled test he’d thrown at me and offered a sheepish smile. “Mr. Harrison, don’t be mad. I promise I won’t get an eight next time.” The whole class roared with laughter. Mr. Harrison looked like he might have a stroke. “Right, next time you’ll aim for a nine? Take this home, get your parents to sign it, and bring it back tomorrow!” Just then, a crisp voice came from the doorway. “Mr. Harrison? The principal sent me to return your flash drive.” Mr. Harrison turned around, his face instantly transforming from rage to delight. “Hailey! Thank you so much. I heard you got a 98% on this test. Fantastic work, truly.” The girl at the door smiled humbly. “You’re too kind, sir. I still made silly mistakes. Caleb got a perfect score, after all.” “This test was brutal,” Mr. Harrison reassured her. “A 98 is incredible. Caleb has been doing college-level math since he was six; he’s an outlier.” He turned back to me, his eyes filled with disappointment. “Hailey is your sister, Harper. How can you be related and be so… different? Graduation is around the corner. You need to wake up.” I nodded enthusiastically like a bobblehead, but my eyes were locked on Hailey. She smirked slightly, turned on her heel, and walked away. I let out a silent sigh of relief. 2 Back at my desk, my friend Chloe whispered, “Was that your sister? I heard she’s ranked fifth in the whole grade. Why don’t you ask her to tutor you?” I stuffed the shameful test paper into my bag. “Studying is boring. Gaming is better. Want to hop on Discord tonight?” Chloe looked like she was about to cry. “I got a 30%, Harper. If I touch my Xbox, my mom will kill me. Thank god I have you, or I’d be the only one failing this class.” I glanced at her test paper, covered in red ink. I couldn’t help myself. “Chloe, question five is just the quadratic formula. How did you miss that?” Chloe blinked, flipped open her textbook, and scribbled for three minutes. Then she looked up at me, wide-eyed. “Oh my god, you’re right! Harper, how did you know that?” Panic spiked in my chest. “I… I guessed! It was the only one I got right on the whole test! Total luck.” Bianca, the girl sitting in front of us, turned around with a sneer. “You two are hopeless. Dumb and Dumber. You should just drop out and go to public school.” “Hey!” Chloe snapped. “We got into this school fair and square! And if I remember correctly, Harper’s entrance exam score was higher than yours!” Bianca laughed coldly. “That was years ago. Look at her now. She’s rotting at the bottom of the barrel.” Chloe opened her mouth to argue, but I grabbed her arm. “Chloe, stop. The teacher is looking.” 3 After school, Chloe tried again. “Harper, seriously, skip the games tonight. Let’s go to the library and fix our math grades.” Just then, Hailey walked by. She paused, looking at me with that perfect, practiced smile. “Heading to the library, Harper? I’m going too. Want to come?” I shook my head vigorously. “Nope. Going home to rank up in League. My grades are a lost cause anyway.” I walked away under Chloe’s disappointed gaze. It was a shame. I really wanted to explain those math concepts to Chloe. As soon as I stepped off campus, my phone buzzed. Contact: STEM God (Caleb) [You missed one question on the practice set yesterday. I’ll explain it tonight.] [Also, I heard you got an 8% on the school exam. What are you doing?] [Score control is an art, Harper, but single digits is just insulting.] I frowned, mentally replaying yesterday’s problem set. I couldn’t believe I missed one. I typed back quickly: [Meet at the usual spot.] Then, a follow-up: [I got an 8 because… don’t you think the number 8 looks cute? Like a little snowman?] Caleb: […] 4 At 6:00 PM, I arrived at a quiet café downtown. Caleb was already there, tucked in a corner booth. He looked up the second I walked in. “Do we have telepathy?” I teased, sliding into the seat opposite him. Caleb shook his head, his face serious. “No. I just didn’t know when you’d arrive, so I looked up every time the door opened.” I paused. Caleb was usually cold and aloof. It took me months of strategic flirting to get him to agree to tutor me. Hearing him say something so… human… was weird. He seemed to realize what he said and looked down at his books, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Let’s look at the problem,” he muttered. “This geometry proof. Your initial logic was sound, but your auxiliary line was wrong…” After reviewing the mistake, he pulled out a fresh practice test. “What did you actually get on that school exam?” he asked. “100%. Same as you,” I whispered. The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Good. Your logic is solid. But the SATs are different from our school’s specific curriculum. Try this set. It’s modeled after the AP exams.” I took the paper and started working. Ninety minutes later, I handed it back. Caleb nodded. “You’re getting faster.”

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Connor Vance hired a struggling single mother as his assistant. I found them locked in a passionate kiss in his office. When I asked about the new hire, Connor put on a righteous face. “Sophia, her life has been so hard. We have to do what we can to help her.” I smiled and nodded. I not only created opportunities for them to be alone, but I also gave the woman a promotion and a raise. If Connor was so desperate to play the hero, then I was going to let him see for himself. Some black holes can never be filled. 1 The day Connor gave his interview to Forbes, he made a special point to mention his family. “I’m incredibly grateful to my wife, Sophia,” he said, his voice smooth for the cameras. “She’s the one who has always supported me from behind the scenes, allowing me to focus on my work without any worries.” The interviewer looked at him with admiration. “Mr. Vance, you truly have it all—a flourishing career and a beautiful family. We hear your company just landed that major city-backed development project. A remarkable achievement for someone so young.” Connor waved his hand with practiced modesty, but he couldn’t hide the glint of pride in his eyes. Only I knew the truth. That “major project” was something I had secured by pulling strings with three generations of my family’s contacts. And Connor’s company? I had funded its creation from my own trust. I had willingly stepped out of the spotlight, choosing to be the power behind the throne. It was something my parents had taught me from a young age: a woman who’s too assertive can bruise a man’s ego, especially a man with a fierce sense of pride like Connor. So, it seemed a fair arrangement. He could stand on the stage, and I would play the part of the supportive wife. After the interview wrapped, Connor walked over to me. “Honey, how did I do?” I handed him a bottle of water I’d already opened. “You were brilliant. A true captain of industry.” He took a long, satisfied drink, his arm draping naturally over my shoulders. “Of course. It’s all thanks to my wife’s excellent training.” “Where should we go for dinner tonight? That new Italian place, or French?” “You decide,” I said, smiling as I linked my arm through his. Just before we got in the car, my phone buzzed. It was a message from my cousin, Chloe. “Soph, what happened to my spot in the corporate housing?! It was supposed to be mine, but your husband’s new admin assistant got it?” I frowned. Chloe was my uncle’s daughter, a firecracker with a sharp mind. Fresh out of grad school, she had insisted on getting a job at the company on her own merit, going through the entire campus recruitment process. She didn’t want anyone to know we were related, worried they’d treat her differently. Not even Connor knew who she was. To escape my aunt’s constant nagging, she had applied for one of the subsidized apartments the company offered to new talent. As Connor got into the driver’s seat, I casually brought it up. “I heard the list for the talent housing was finalized. It seems that new intern from Stanford got bumped off the list.” Connor’s hands faltered for a second on the steering wheel. His eyes darted away. “Oh, that spot,” he said, clearing his throat. “I had HR reassign it to Bella.” Bella? The name clicked. She was Connor’s new assistant. A quiet woman, with a gentle, almost domestic air about her. Connor let out a heavy sigh. “Sophia, you have no idea how hard her life is. She’s a single mom, raising a five-year-old son all by herself. They live way out in the suburbs to save on rent. She has to get up before dawn every single day to make him breakfast before taking two trains to get to the office.” He turned to me, his expression earnest. “The corporate housing is right across the street from the office, and it has a daycare right next to it. I know that intern technically qualifies, but Bella clearly needs it more. As the CEO, showing a little compassion for an employee in need is good for morale. You understand, right?” His reasoning was flawless. Bella’s situation was genuinely sympathetic. If it had been my decision, I probably would have done the same. After a moment’s thought, I agreed. “A single mother and her child have it tough. It’s good of you to have a heart. I’ll smooth things over with the intern.” Connor visibly relaxed. “I knew you’d understand, honey. You’re the most reasonable person I know.” I smiled faintly and typed a reply to Chloe. “Stop fighting with a struggling employee for resources. I’ve got you a place at The Sterling. The rent’s on me.” A bowing emoji popped up instantly. “You’re the best boss ever!” 2 That weekend, Bella came to our house to thank us. She stood hesitantly in the foyer, clutching a fruit basket, looking so out of place she didn’t seem to know where to put her hands. “Mr. Vance, Sophia… thank you. Thank you so much.” Bella was wearing a pair of washed-out jeans and a loose, cream-colored knit sweater that made her look even more frail and thin. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and when she looked at Connor, it was with the reverence one might reserve for a deity. “If it wasn’t for Connor… I mean, Mr. Vance’s help, I don’t know what I would have done.” She bowed deeply, the collar of her sweater gaping slightly to reveal the pale skin of her collarbone. Connor reached out to steady her, his voice soft. “Please, don’t. It was nothing. You didn’t have to come all this way.” “Oh, but I did,” Bella insisted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She turned her gaze to me. “Sophia, please tell the intern I’m so sorry. I feel terrible for taking her spot.” I offered a polite smile. “Don’t worry about it. The company has its policies, and if Connor felt you met the criteria for assistance, then you deserved it.” Her eyes flickered around our living room, a flash of envy quickly suppressed. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Connor is such a good man. So successful and dedicated to his family. You’re a very lucky woman, Sophia.” The praise seemed to make Connor swell with pride. He waved it off. “Not at all. It’s a man’s duty to take care of his family.” The words had barely left his mouth when a shadow of sadness crossed Bella’s face. Connor immediately realized his mistake. Before I could intervene, Bella’s phone rang. Her expression soured as she answered. “What? The pipe burst? The landlord… no, please don’t be angry, I’ll be right back…” When she hung up, tears were streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry, Connor, Sophia, I have to go. My son was playing with the water in our rental, and a pipe burst… the whole floor is flooded.” “Oh god, the landlord is going to kill me… I’ll have to pay for the damages…” “A pipe burst?” Connor was on his feet in an instant. “How can you handle that on your own? The plumbing in those old buildings is a nightmare.” He turned to me. “Sophia, I’m going to go help her. I’ll be back soon.” I frowned, instinctively trying to stop him. “Can’t she just call building maintenance? What are you going to do? Do you even know how to fix a pipe?” Connor’s face hardened. “Sophia, every minute that water is running is another minute of humiliation for her with that landlord. It doesn’t matter if I can fix it. What matters is that I’ll be there to back her up, to keep her from being bullied!” Bella looked at him through her tear-filled eyes, her gaze shining with pure adoration. “Connor… you’re so kind… besides you, no one in the world cares if my son and I live or die.” “Don’t say that. It’s no trouble at all. Let’s go.” Connor grabbed his car keys and, taking Bella by the arm, walked out the door without a backward glance. Leaving me alone in the foyer. I stood there for a long time, stunned. It had been ages since I’d seen Connor that agitated. He was always so calm and collected. The only other time I’d seen that kind of frantic urgency in him was when we were first in love, when he would drop everything over the smallest problem I had. 3 Connor didn’t come home until late that night. I was waiting for him on the sofa, the issue of Forbes with his interview resting in my lap. I hadn’t read a single word. “Is it fixed?” I asked. “Of course,” he said, loosening his tie with a triumphant air. “A little problem like that is nothing for me. You should have seen the landlord’s face when I pulled up in the Benz. He went pale and didn’t dare say another word. Bella was terrified, just clinging to my sleeve and calling me her savior.” He recounted the story with a flourish, prouder than if he’d just closed a multi-million-dollar deal. My voice was flat. “The apartment is flooded. Where are they staying tonight?” “Don’t you worry about that,” Connor chuckled. “I put them up in a hotel for a few days. The corporate apartment will be ready soon, and I’ll help them move in.” He poured himself a glass of water and drank it in one go. Then he looked at me, his expression suddenly complicated. “Sophia, sometimes I think you should learn from Bella.” I froze. “Learn what from her?” “Learn how to be more… like a woman.” “In that situation, your first instinct was to call maintenance, to follow protocol. Don’t you think you’re too strong, too perfect? Sometimes, I wish you could be more like her, needing me for something as simple as changing a lightbulb or unclogging a drain. Instead of how it is now, where you can make one phone call and have a dozen professionals at our door in an hour.” He sighed. “It makes me feel like a decoration in my own home.” I closed the magazine. I took a deep breath. For years, I had handled everything at home so he could pour all his energy into his career. I had never asked him to lift a finger. And now, in his eyes, my self-sufficiency had become a cold, domineering flaw? And the weeping, helpless Bella had become the standard for femininity? If he wanted to fix pipes so badly, he could have become a plumber instead of a CEO. The words rose in my throat, but I swallowed them down. Honestly, I didn’t want to fight over something so trivial. But his attitude toward Bella had already set off alarm bells in my mind. 4 I had HR pull Bella’s file. Then I had a private investigator do a little digging. It turned out, she wasn’t divorced. She was raising her son alone because her husband was in prison for armed robbery. She had likely hidden this fact to protect her child from gossip. Given her genuine hardship, I didn’t want to disrupt her work life. I kept the information to myself for the time being and didn’t mention it to Connor. Our company was always hosting events to promote a positive culture. For Family Day, the main conference room was transformed into a playground. HR ordered high-end pastries and a mountain of toys. The room was filled with the cheerful laughter of employees and their children. Bella brought her son, a five-year-old boy named Leo. He was a sturdy-looking kid who immediately fixated on the tables laden with snacks and toys. Bella, however, scanned the crowd with searching eyes. Her gaze landed on Connor, who was holding court in the center of the room. Then, she gave Leo’s arm a sharp pinch. The next second, a clear, loud voice cut through the din. “Daddy!” The boisterous room fell silent. Leo scrambled toward Connor and threw his arms around his legs. “Daddy! You’re here! I missed you so much!” A dead silence fell over the room. Employees exchanged shocked glances, their eyes darting between me and Bella. Bella rushed over, her face beet red, pretending to be flustered as she tried to pull the boy away. “Leo, don’t say that! This is Mr. Vance, not Daddy! Let go!” But Leo only clung tighter. “No! He’s just like the daddy I always imagined! Uncle Connor is so nice to me! He bought me a Transformer and took me for KFC. He is my daddy!” A Transformer? KFC? When had all this happened? My expression slowly turned to ice. I stared at Connor in silence. A flash of embarrassment crossed his face. He patted Leo’s head. “Alright, Leo, that’s enough.” Trying to diffuse the tension, he picked Leo up and forced a smile in my direction. “He’s just a kid. It’s my job to care for my employees’ children. Kids from single-parent homes are sensitive, they crave affection. Don’t take it personally. It’s just a childish outburst.” Yes, children can be innocent. But “Daddy” is not a name you just throw around. I refused to believe an adult hadn’t coached him. I turned my cold gaze on Bella. “Ms. Thorne, if your child is so desperate for a father figure, perhaps you should spend more time with him yourself. Encouraging him to claim strangers as his father is not healthy for his psychological development.” Bella’s face flushed, then paled. Humiliated by the scornful looks from her colleagues, she raised her hand and slapped Leo hard across the face. “I told you not to say that! Shut up!” she hissed. “Apologize! Apologize to Mrs. Vance right now!” Leo, stunned by the blow, burst into tears. But instead of apologizing, he glared at me with renewed fury and screamed, “I won’t! You’re a mean lady! Mommy said at home that Daddy loves us the most! You’re just an old witch who bosses him around!” His words were like a physical slap across my own face. Whispers erupted among the employees. Connor’s expression shifted from embarrassment to outright anger. “That’s enough! Sophia, what is wrong with you, picking a fight with a child?” he snapped. “Does cornering a little boy like this make you feel powerful?” 5 With that, he turned, still holding the wailing Leo, and strode out of the conference room. Bella scurried after them. The three of them looked like a perfect little family, leaving me standing alone in their wake. The room was silent. Our carefully planned Family Day was ruined. The HR manager quickly stepped in to manage the situation, and the crowd slowly dispersed. Laura, the HR manager, was a company veteran. She brought me a glass of water. “Sophia, please don’t let it get to you,” she said softly. “Anyone can see that Mr. Vance doesn’t have any improper feelings for her. He just feels sorry for them, a single mother and her son. He’s just a little too soft-hearted and has let things go too far.” When I didn’t respond, she leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “Honestly, Sophia, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’ve seen Mr. Vance secretly contacting a private jeweler. He’s designing a custom piece for your birthday next month.” “If he really had something else on his mind, he wouldn’t be going to all that trouble to surprise you. Men can just be clueless about boundaries sometimes. You two have been together for eight years. It’s not worth fighting over a woman like that.” I held the warm glass, but the chill in my fingertips wouldn’t go away. She was right. We had eight years of history. I knew Connor better than anyone. But what happened today… how was I supposed to just let it go? For the sake of those eight years, I decided to give him a chance to talk it out. I took out my phone and sent him a message. “Come home early tonight. We need to talk.” An hour later, he replied. “Leo is really upset and won’t stop crying. I’m going to take them to dinner to calm him down.” I waited at home. I waited until eleven. I opened our shared cloud storage, scrolling through photos from our years together. A picture of him as a poor college student who had saved up three months of his living expenses just to buy me a necklace I had glanced at once. A picture of him shivering in the snow, saving me a seat outside the library. In the early days of the company, when my parents disapproved of our relationship, he had held my hand and sworn, “Sophia, I will give you the best life. I will never let you down.” The more I looked, the more my heart ached, and the clearer everything became. When Connor finally came home, he acted as if nothing had happened. “Still up?” he asked, kicking off his shoes. My voice was quiet, almost gentle. “Connor, we need to talk about boundaries.” He looked exhausted. “I know what this is about. It’s about today. But Sophia, could you not have given me some face? Everyone was watching. Did you have to be so passive-aggressive in front of the entire company?” “Passive-aggressive?” I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “That child called you ‘Daddy’ in public and called me a ‘mean old witch.’ Not only did you not stop him, you stormed out with them in front of everyone. Do you have any idea what our employees are saying now?” “Let them talk! A clear conscience fears no accusation!” Connor’s temper suddenly flared. “Bella is a single mother doing her best. Leo has grown up without a father; it’s natural for him to project that onto someone. What’s wrong with me not wanting to see a child get hurt? Is it a crime to have a heart?” I stood up, my own voice rising. “Is your heart so big that it has to be spread everywhere? So big that you’ll trample on your wife’s dignity just to make someone else feel better? Tell me, Connor, is what you feel for Bella compassion, or are you in love with her?” “Sophia!” Connor’s face was flushed with anger. “How can your mind be so filthy? There is nothing between me and Bella! You really are a businessman’s daughter, aren’t you? You see conspiracies everywhere. You don’t know the first thing about simple kindness!” I was trembling with rage. “A businessman’s daughter?” “Yes, I am a businessman’s daughter. And it was this businessman’s daughter who used her own money to pave the way for you when you were being rejected by investors, when you were wandering around like a stray dog!” “It was this businessman’s daughter who used every single one of her family’s connections to apologize on your behalf when your bad decisions nearly bankrupted the company, just to save your position!” “And it was this businessman’s daughter who didn’t care that you had nothing, who went against her parents’ wishes and insisted on marrying you!” “Without this businessman’s daughter, what right would you have, Connor Vance, to parade your ‘kindness’ and play savior to another woman? Have you no shame?” The barrage of questions left him speechless. Perhaps the memories of everything we had been through together finally sank in. The angry flush drained from his face, replaced by a pale, humiliated shame. He took a deep breath and forced himself to apologize. “Sophia, don’t be angry. I admit, I’ve been paying too much attention to Bella. But I swear, you’re the only one in my heart. Honey, please, calm down, okay?” He reached for my hand. But I was still furious. Seeing him put on that loving act now just made my stomach turn. I yanked my hand away and pointed to the door. “Don’t you dare use our eight years to disgust me, Connor.” “I don’t want to see you right now. Get out!” His hand froze in mid-air, the warmth on his face turning to ice. He clenched his jaw, choosing not to argue further. “Fine, Sophia. I’m offering you an out, and you won’t take it,” he said coldly. “Have fun cooling off by yourself.”

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On the eve of my engagement, the wolf pup I raised with my own hands pinned me to the bed. He pulled a smile that looked innocent, but vicious words spilled from his mouth. “Uncle, if you dare to get engaged to that woman, tomorrow I’ll release our little video at the banquet.” 1 When I was twenty-two, I adopted twelve-year-old Julian Thorne. For six years, I took meticulous care of him as he grew up. If he wanted the stars, I gave him the stars; if he wanted the moon, I gave him the moon. I believed I treated him well. But on the eve of my engagement, he secretly drugged me. I watched as he skillfully set up the video camera, the black lens aimed straight at me like a bottomless well, sending a sudden chill down my spine. Born with a silver spoon in my mouth, a big shot in the elite circle of the capital, I’ve had smooth sailing all my life. I’ve never suffered such grievance. Immediately, I cursed in anger: “Julian, do you want to fucking die? I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself. Take me to the hospital right now, immediately. Otherwise, when I wake up, I’ll skin you alive, chop you up, and feed you to the dogs.” Just saying this made me short of breath. The drug was potent, burning my eyes red, not to mention the other obvious changes in my body. So my words had no deterrent effect and didn’t scare Julian at all. The corners of his mouth hooked into a faint smile. Turning a deaf ear to my threats, he turned on the camera and then walked towards me. Looking at my state, his Adam’s apple rolled a few times. He raised his hand and tugged somewhat urgently at the tie around his neck—the same tie I had personally tied for him when we tried on suits together. Julian’s voice was very low, sounding like a question, but more like stating a fact. “Uncle, even if I send you to the hospital now, you won’t let me off, right?” I have to say, Julian knows me too well. Once the drug wears off, I will immediately beat this bastard until he’s looking for his teeth all over the floor, making him regret the messy thing he did. I also regretted not seeing Julian’s abnormality earlier. If I had noticed earlier, I definitely wouldn’t have taken the glass of milk he handed me. While I was pondering, Julian had already sat on the edge of the bed. I almost scrambled back to the head of the bed in a pathetic manner, looking at him warily. I took a deep breath, suppressing the raging fire in my heart, trying to make my tone sound sincere and reliable. “This time, I mean it. As long as you take me to the hospital, I can let bygones be bygones about you drugging me.” He sneered, his tone suddenly intense: “Heh! Let bygones be bygones? Uncle, you forgot, you promised me that we would live together for the rest of our lives! You clearly said you wouldn’t find me an aunt, but you’re getting engaged tomorrow! “You lied to me first, what right do you have to say let bygones be bygones?!” Julian’s face was hideous and twisted, as if trapped in his own logical loop and unable to break free. Before I could speak, he lunged forward, grabbed my ankle, and dragged me over. I wanted to struggle, but the cool touch on my ankle made me dazed for a moment. By the time I came to my senses, I was already pinned under Julian. He pulled out his belt and firmly tied my hands to the headboard. His legs firmly suppressed my resistance. I was like fish on a chopping board, at anyone’s mercy. 2 Unwilling to give up, I continued to persuade him: “If you don’t want me to get married, Uncle won’t get married. It’s no big deal, no need to make it so ugly. Be obedient, untie the belt.” You bastard, you better untie it for me, or I will definitely whip you to death, tear your face apart, chop you into mincemeat, and throw you into the sea to feed the fish. “Too late.” Julian raised his hand to touch my face. I jerked my head to avoid it. The bed shook violently, and the ring box on the bedside table was knocked to the ground. Seeing the ring rolling on the ground, Julian suddenly went crazy. He pinched my face, leaned down fiercely, and blocked my lips. The cold and soft touch made me greedily want to take more. I rubbed the skin on the back of my hand hard. The pain gave me a moment of clarity. Then, taking advantage of his intoxicated kiss, I bit the tongue he stuck in. Julian suddenly got up, covering his mouth, staring at me. I looked at him with disdain: “You dare glare at me? Careful I don’t gouge your eyes out. Ungrateful wolf, all your education went to the dogs. Do you know what you’re doing? I’m your fucking uncle. Seriously counting, I should be considered your adoptive father. “All these years, without me, you would have been beaten to death in that dark alley like a dog long ago. It was me, I saved you, I gave you money, let you study, and this is how you fucking repay me?!” Julian covered his mouth, looking down without saying a word. I thought he found his conscience. Just as I wanted to shout for him to let me go quickly, the potent drug made my consciousness chaotic again. This was not a good sign. If this continued, I would definitely not be able to bear it and would humbly and pathetically beg that bastard. “Forget it, let’s not talk about this, you untie first… mmm…” This madman Julian kissed me again as if he didn’t know pain. I tried to bite him but failed; instead, I bit my own tongue until it bled. He kissed fiercely and aggressively, as if he wanted to swallow me whole. My desperate struggles couldn’t escape his movements of unbuttoning my clothes. Realizing that I couldn’t avoid tonight’s matter, I simply closed my eyes in resignation, only struggling one last time to negotiate with him nicely: “Turn off… the camera.” He panted heavily, his hot breath spraying on the side of my neck. He turned his head and bit me lightly. That was the common carotid artery. I felt like my lifeline was being held, instantly stiffening, daring not move. His voice was hoarse: “No.” He looked up at me, revealing an innocent smile that an eighteen-year-old should have, but his words made my hair stand on end: “Uncle, if you dare to get engaged to that woman, then tomorrow, I will release our little video at the banquet. Uncle knows what to do, right?” Do your mom! I was burning with anger, completely mad. Before I could start cursing, Julian, as if expecting it, immediately lowered his head to seal my lips, blocking all my dirty words in my throat. 3 My consciousness gradually blurred with Julian’s movements. In a trance, I saw him take my phone and dial a familiar number. I instantly sobered up and tried to snatch it. Julian’s face darkened instantly, and he slammed me back onto the bed with his hand. “Uncle.” He moved his body threateningly, and I immediately groaned. “You should know what to say, right?” The threat was strong. I knew it was best not to provoke him now. The call connected, and Claire’s cool voice came from the other end: “Damian, what’s wrong?” I cleared my throat and answered her: “Tomorrow’s engagement party might need to be canceled. I have something to deal with now, I’ll explain to you later.” There was silence on the other end for a moment, then she said: “Okay.” Julian hung up the phone with satisfaction, the expression in his eyes softening, inexplicably gentle. He leaned down and kissed the corner of my mouth, smiling: “Uncle is so good.” I gritted my teeth and ground my molars. A tiger down in the plains is bullied by dogs. It doesn’t matter. Wait until the drug wears off, I’ll see how long you can smile. You bastard, laugh all you want. When the time comes, see if I don’t break all your white teeth. Julian seemed to know what I was thinking, ingratiatingly licking my lips that were red, swollen, and hot from sucking. “Uncle, don’t be angry anymore. As long as you don’t get married, you can punish me however you want. I’ll take it gladly.” He looked at me, the look in his eyes very serious. I knew he meant it. But I also knew that after tonight, we wouldn’t be in a simple uncle-nephew relationship. Once a dog tastes meat, it will turn into a wolf, let alone a wolf pretending to be a dog? I could foresee what would happen between us. Either coaxed into bed by him or tied into bed by him, using both soft and hard tactics, using all means. I turned my head slightly, avoiding his overly passionate gaze, and didn’t answer him. My attitude completely angered Julian. He narrowed his eyes, then forcefully gripped my chin, turning my face back to look at him. His eyes were icy, and the surrounding temperature dropped instantly. We looked at each other for a long time. Suddenly, Julian laughed, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, making me feel creepy. He lowered his head close to my ear and said sinisterly: “Uncle, still thinking about getting married, huh?” He looked like he was about to lose his mind. I knew I shouldn’t provoke him at this time, but I really didn’t want to agree with his words. Because a promise is a lifetime thing. Julian would take it seriously, just like when I promised him I wouldn’t get married, and he took it seriously. 4 At that time, Julian had just arrived at the Sterling family. At twelve years old, he had suffered a lot. His father was a gambler who disappeared after owing a huge debt. His mother remarried immediately, leaving Julian to grow up alone and helpless. The day I met him, I happened to close a big deal, successfully shutting everyone else up and becoming the head of the Sterling family. So, in a good mood, I meddled and saved Julian, who was beaten half to death for stealing money. I asked him: “Why steal money?” He was stunned for a moment, seemingly embarrassed, his face slightly red. He pursed his lips and spoke after a long time: “Because I was hungry. Restaurants don’t hire child labor, and I couldn’t beat the homeless for trash cans. I was so hungry that I couldn’t stand it, so I thought of stealing money.” I had nothing to say. Because I had never lived a hard life, I couldn’t understand. But I was in a good mood that day, so I simply took him home, treating it as a good deed for the day, accumulating some virtue for myself, striving to be born into a rich and good family in the next life. Getting along gradually, I found Julian to be very considerate. No matter how late I came back from social engagements, he would get up and thoughtfully prepare honey water for me and massage my temples. Later, a psychologist friend told me that Julian was deliberately pleasing me, probably because he had been abandoned by his parents before and was afraid of being discarded again. So, when I came home at 3 a.m. again, and Julian heard the noise and ran downstairs, I stopped him: “Don’t need you, go to sleep.” Julian’s face turned pale instantly, and tears suddenly fell in big drops, looking pitiful and fragile. I was stunned on the spot. I just thought of that friend’s words and wanted him not to deliberately please me anymore. I didn’t know if my tone was too fierce or if this kid thought of something else. Anyway, he shrank at the top of the stairs, crying pitifully. I immediately scratched my hair and walked over, patting his shoulder somewhat clumsily. I’m not good at comforting people. After racking my brains, I said to him: “Not chasing you away. You don’t need to be so cautious and cramped, nor do you need to please me. Don’t worry, as long as you do your own things well, I won’t abandon you.” He looked at me with red eyes, a hint of choking in his voice: “Then if you get married in the future and have children, will you not want me anymore? If the little aunt doesn’t like me, will you also hate me and then abandon me?” That year, I was twenty-two, just the right age for marriage. Many people who wanted to climb up to the Sterling family tried to introduce partners to me. For me, marriage or love had to be ranked after my career. Although the Sterling family was strong enough, it wasn’t without rivals. For me, the most important thing was to continuously expand the power of the Sterling family, making other families unable to catch up, making people tremble just hearing the name “Damian Sterling.” At that time, I only had a career in my eyes. Illusory things like love were not within my consideration at all. So when he asked that, to coax him and stop him from crying, I promised him: “Don’t worry, there won’t be a little aunt.” He raised his teary eyes and asked me: “Then in the future, will it be just the two of us living together?” I thought Julian was young and had been abandoned, so he lacked security. When he grew up, he naturally wouldn’t be so dependent on me, so I nodded. But I didn’t expect that after his feelings changed, this casual promise would become a sharp blade stabbing me, making even my defense seem pale and weak. I watched his face getting darker because he didn’t get an answer for a long time, chuckled lightly, and answered: “Yes.” Sure enough, Julian went crazy again. His eyes turned red with anger, and he punished me unrestrainedly all night. He didn’t let me go until the sky turned slightly white.

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