“Have you heard the rumors about Campus Road?”
Of course I had.
The rumor was about my roommate.
She was assaulted by a janitor.
To hush it up, the school guaranteed us, her roommates, graduate school admission.
“They say someone saw her reading there a few days ago.”
Impossible.
I watched her die right in front of me.
1
I suppressed my shock.
I went back to the dorm.
My roommate, Heather, was already there.
Her face was paler than mine. Something was definitely wrong.
I asked, my voice trembling: “Heather, did you hear the news… about Chloe?”
Heather looked at me like I was a lifeline. She nodded vigorously.
She looked around nervously, as if afraid of disturbing something unseen.
Then she whispered in my ear:
“Vanessa, do you think it’s true? Do you think she’s back?”
“Impossible. We saw her die. People don’t come back from the dead. They must have been mistaken.”
I denied it instantly, trying to comfort both of us.
“I don’t mean alive,” Heather stammered. “I mean… did she come back as a ghost for revenge?”
My voice shook even more.
“Why be scared? I didn’t kill her. She died on her own. Why would she want revenge on me?”
Despite my words, my subconscious was screaming the same thing.
Heather’s expression shifted from fear to annoyance.
“Vanessa, don’t you dare leave me to take the fall alone.”
“You played a part in her death too. If she’s back for revenge, neither of us is safe.”
I stayed silent.
She was right.
After the assault on Campus Road, Chloe had a heart attack from the shock.
She was writhing on the ground in agony. Her medicine was just out of reach.
I wanted to help her get it.
But Heather stopped me.
She stared at Chloe with a terrifying intensity.
“Vanessa, do you want that guaranteed admission?”
“If Chloe dies because of this… maybe all three of us can get in.”
I was shamefully tempted.
I studied hard every day, but my grades were just shy of guaranteeing a spot in grad school.
But a guaranteed admission… my future would be bright.
Heather kicked the pill bottle into the corner.
I watched her do it.
I hesitated. I didn’t stop her.
Because of my hesitation, Chloe died, her hand still reaching for the medicine.
The school did exactly what we expected. To bury the scandal, they gave all of us in the dorm guaranteed admission.
I thought it was over.
I didn’t expect the rumors.
Heather wanted to say more, but the door opened.
Our other roommate, Bella, walked in.
Heather shut up, winked at me, and casually asked Bella:
“Bella, heard someone saw Chloe on Campus Road. Did you know?”
“Really? Never heard of it.”
Bella responded coldly, climbed into bed, and turned her back on us.
Heather pouted and sent me a long text:
“She’s so cold. No roommate love at all. Doesn’t even care about Chloe.”
“She never liked Chloe anyway. Probably happy she’s dead.”
“And if it wasn’t for us, would she even have that grad school spot? Ungrateful.”
I rolled my eyes internally.
If you had any roommate love, you wouldn’t have kicked away her life-saving medicine.
But I had no right to judge.
I patiently comforted Heather via text.
Then she sent one last message:
“I don’t care. I’m going to Campus Road to see if the rumor is true. Vanessa, you have to come with me.”
2
I stared at the message in disbelief.
She was crazy.
Suspecting Chloe was a ghost, yet wanting to go verify it?
I had to admit, she had guts.
But I wanted to know too. Having company wasn’t bad.
Tomorrow was sunny. Good for warding off ghosts.
We went at noon. To the reading corner on Campus Road.
If Chloe was seen reading, it would be here.
There were lots of girls with long hair reading.
But no Chloe.
I heard Heather sigh in relief.
“See? Told you they were mistaken.”
Heather didn’t reply but dragged me up and down the road several times to be sure.
Only after confirming no sign of Chloe did she smile.
For the next few days, we intentionally walked along Campus Road.
Nervously scanning every passerby.
Never seeing Chloe.
Finally, we were sure. The rumor was fake.
But the night I finally relaxed, a man jumped off the academic building.
3
Hearing someone jumped, a crowd of curious students ran to see.
Heather and I were among them.
I thought it was just another tragic suicide due to pressure.
But when I saw the body, I realized something was wrong.
It was an adult man. Face smashed beyond recognition.
Wearing a school janitor’s uniform.
A bad feeling rose in my gut.
The next second, it was confirmed.
Protruding from the man’s pocket was an exquisite hair clip.
I knew that clip. It was a birthday gift from Chloe’s dad.
Worth thousands. She used to show it off all the time.
Why was it on this man?
In that moment, I knew.
He was the janitor who assaulted Chloe.
A chill ran down my spine.
Heather grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my flesh.
I could feel her trembling.
She realized it too.
“It’s her… she’s back for revenge.”
I turned to meet Heather’s terrified eyes.
I opened my mouth but couldn’t say a word of comfort.
I was terrified too.
I held her cold hand, trying to find warmth.
Campus security came to disperse the crowd.
Strange. Why wasn’t the Dean here?
As we walked back with the crowd, Heather clung to me, looking around paranoidly.
Someone shouted. I looked up.
Fire.
4
It was coming from the faculty office building!
I ran towards the fire with the crowd.
People were frantically trying to put it out.
I heard snippets of conversation.
“I heard it started in the Dean’s office.”
“Apparently everyone got out except the Dean.”
My heart sank.
After Chloe died, it was the Dean who hushed it up.
The guaranteed admission was her idea.
Her again.
I couldn’t help but connect these two events to Chloe.
Combined with the rumors… I had to believe it.
She was really back.
Waves of heat hit my face.
But I felt colder than ever.
The fire was put out. The Dean’s body was carried out.
Curled up like burnt charcoal. Skin peeling.
The smell of roasted meat made me gag.
Heather was already vomiting.
The smell of vomit mixed with burnt flesh was suffocating.
She wiped her mouth, ignoring her appearance, and asked me in panic:
“Vanessa, what do we do?”
“Are we… are we next?”
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I’d been renting this apartment for three years and never missed a single payment.
Last week, I paid the $800 annual heating fee. The landlord couldn’t stop grinning.
The next day, he sent me a text: “You have 7 days to move out. My son needs the place for his wedding.”
I told him we still had six months left on the lease. He shot back: “Go ahead and sue me. You can’t afford the hassle anyway.”
I didn’t argue. I didn’t cause a scene. I just quietly started packing.
On moving day, my landlord showed up with a bag of fruit, a wide smile plastered on his face. “Hey kid, take your time. No rush.”
The moment he pushed the door open, he froze.
The apartment was a hollow shell, as clean and bare as if no one had ever lived there at all.
01
After three years in this concrete box, I had started to think of it as a home.
The pothos on the windowsill, which I bought the day I moved in, now had vines cascading down half the wall.
The laminate flooring in the living room, which I’d spent a month’s salary on because I couldn’t stand the cold concrete, warmed the space.
The integrated kitchen cabinets, the heated toilet seat in the bathroom—I’d added them all, piece by piece.
I wasn’t just renting a space; I was building a life.
My landlord, Mr. Finch, was a man in his fifties with thinning hair, puffy bags under his eyes, and a perpetual, calculating glint in his gaze.
On the twenty-fifth of every month, his text message demanding rent would arrive with the punctuality of an alarm clock.
Even though I’d never been a day late.
“Brian, time to pay this month’s rent.”
It was always followed by a grinning emoji that made my stomach turn.
Today, he was back.
“Brian, it’s getting cold. Time to pay the annual heating fee, don’t you think?”
He attached a screenshot of the weather forecast, showing a cold front was due to hit next week.
The building had independent heating, and the landlord collected the fee upfront to pay the utility company.
Eight hundred dollars a year.
It wasn’t a small amount.
I stared at the screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. The price was nearly double that of similar buildings in the area—a blatant rip-off. But it was written in black and white in the lease I’d signed, so I had no choice.
I transferred the eight hundred dollars.
He accepted it almost instantly.
A voice message popped up. I pressed play, and his signature, slightly greasy laugh filled the air.
“Brian, you’re always so prompt! A great tenant, a model tenant!”
His over-the-top praise felt like a bone tossed to a dog, cheap and condescending.
I didn’t reply.
A heavy feeling settled in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
A moment later, another message came through.
“So, Brian, where do you work? Spending money like that, you must be doing pretty well for yourself, huh?”
The screen’s glow illuminated my face. I could almost see his greedy expression, poking and prying from the other side of the network.
I typed back calmly, “Just a small company. Enough to get by.”
He didn’t push further, sending back a sticker that said, “Keep it up, kid! You’ve got a bright future!” and ending the conversation.
I put down my phone and walked to the window. The night was thick, the city lights blurring into a distant halo. An unnameable frustration churned inside me.
I turned, opened a drawer, and pulled out a folder from the very bottom. Inside was the lease I’d signed three years ago, along with a supplementary agreement.
I slid out the agreement, its paper now slightly yellowed, and my eyes fell on one particular clause.
“Any permanent fixtures installed by the tenant during the lease period may be removed by the tenant upon departure, or sold to the landlord at a negotiated price. The landlord may not prevent their removal without due cause.”
It was a clause I had specifically requested back then. At the time, it felt like a simple precaution. Now, it seemed like it might have been the smartest thing I’d ever done.
I carefully placed the agreement back in the folder. The churning in my gut strangely began to subside.
02
The next day was Monday. The morning subway was packed like a can of sardines.
As I was jostled by the crowd, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
It was Mr. Finch.
I swiped the screen, and a text message appeared.
“Brian, just a heads-up. My son’s getting married in a couple of months and needs the apartment. You should pack up and be out within 7 days.”
I stood in the swaying car, surrounded by a cacophony of voices, but I couldn’t hear a thing. My mind went blank, a dull ringing in my ears.
Out in 7 days?
I stared at the words, reading them three times. I knew what each word meant, but together, they were incomprehensible.
I had just paid him eight hundred dollars for heating.
Yesterday, he was calling me a “model tenant.”
Today, he was kicking me to the curb.
A hot rush of blood surged to my head, and my fingers trembled with rage.
I called him back. It rang a few times, then he declined the call.
A second message followed: “In a meeting. Text me.”
Suppressing my fury, I typed, word by word.
“Mr. Finch, our lease isn’t up for another six months. And I just paid the eight-hundred-dollar heating fee last week.”
After I sent it, the status changed to “typing…”
A few seconds later, a thirty-second voice message appeared.
I turned the volume down to the minimum and held the phone to my ear. Mr. Finch’s slick, contemptuous voice drilled into my brain.
“Oh, come on, Brian. You can’t be so rigid. Contracts are just paper; people have to be flexible. My son’s wedding is a big deal. You can be a little understanding, can’t you?”
“As for that eight hundred bucks… you’ve lived here for three years, and I never once raised your rent. A lot of things are worn out. Just consider it payment for three years of depreciation and cleaning fees. I’m not taking advantage of you.”
“If you don’t like it, go ahead and sue me. Start the legal process. But let me tell you, a guy like you, just here to work, can you really afford the time? Can you afford the lawyer’s fees? You’ll end up with no place to live and probably lose your job in the process.”
The message ended with a short, sharp, mocking laugh.
I stood frozen, feeling as if every eye in the subway car was on me. His voice was like a poison-tipped needle, jabbing at my nerves.
Rage. Humiliation. And the sickening feeling of being played for a fool.
Every muscle in my body tensed. I wanted to storm over to his place and smash the phone into his smug, fleshy face.
The train arrived at my stop. The doors opened, and the crowd surged forward. I was pushed out onto the platform, and the cold air that filled my lungs cleared my head slightly.
I didn’t send another message.
I just calmly, expressionlessly, took screenshots of the entire chat history, including that grating voice message and yesterday’s payment record. One by one.
After I was done, I opened my phone’s voice recorder.
Then, I dialed Mr. Finch’s number again.
This time he answered, his tone impatient. “Didn’t I say I was in a meeting? What is it?”
I spoke with a calmness that felt foreign even to me. “Mr. Finch, I just want to confirm. You’re saying you won’t honor the lease, you won’t refund the heating fee, and I must be out in seven days. Is that correct?”
There was a two-second pause on the other end, followed by undisguised arrogance. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Be smart about this. It’s better for everyone.”
“Okay.”
I said the word and hung up.
No arguments, no questions, not even a hint of emotion.
Mr. Finch was probably stunned. He might have expected anger, begging, maybe even threats. He never would have anticipated such a clean, simple “Okay.”
He didn’t text again.
In his mind, he had likely just won another easy victory in the adult world. He was probably gloating over his own cleverness.
I walked out of the subway station into the blinding sun.
I looked up at the gray sky and took a deep, long breath.
Then, I exhaled all the foul air from my chest.
And with it, the last shred of my naive belief in decency and fairness.
If playing by the rules couldn’t earn me respect, then I would play by his. And I would teach him a lesson he would never forget.
03
After the initial explosion, my anger cooled quickly, settling into an icy resolve.
I had no time for grief or self-pity.
First thing: find an apartment.
I opened a rental app, set the filter to my office area, and specified “move-in ready, fully furnished.” I wouldn’t make the same mistake again, pouring my heart and soul into a space that wasn’t mine.
That afternoon, I contacted three agents and scheduled viewings for the evening.
Second thing: find some “helpers.”
On a local services app, I searched for one key phrase: “professional disassembly.”
Several companies popped up, their slogans a mix of promises.
“Moving, Disassembly, Recycling—One-Stop Service.”
“Expert Removal of Furniture, Cabinets, and Bathroom Fixtures. Guaranteed Intact.”
I clicked on the one with the highest ratings and dialed the number.
“Hello, I’d like to inquire about your disassembly services.”
“Hello, sir. What do you need disassembled?”
“Flooring, integrated kitchen cabinets, the toilet and vanity in the bathroom, and… the entire apartment’s heating radiators and pipes.”
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end.
“Sir, are you sure about this? Those are all permanent fixtures.”
“I’m sure,” my voice was flat, without a ripple of emotion. “I installed all of it myself. I have the right to take it with me.”
“…Very well, sir. Our workers are highly professional and can perform a non-destructive removal. However, the cost will be higher than a standard move.”
“Money is not an issue.”
I hung up, having scheduled them to come for the first round of disassembly over the weekend.
Only after arranging these two things did I start to pack my personal belongings.
I packed the books from my shelves, folded the clothes from my closet. My movements were methodical, like a well-oiled machine.
My phone rang. It was my colleague, Chloe.
“Brian, what’s for dinner? I found this amazing barbecue place!” her cheerful voice chirped.
“Not tonight, I have some things to do,” my voice was a bit hoarse.
Chloe immediately sensed something was wrong.
“What’s up? You sound like you’re on death’s door. Did something happen?”
I paused for a moment, then briefly explained the situation.
A roar erupted from the other end of the phone. “What?! That old bastard is something else! Kicking you out right after taking your heating money? He might as well just rob you!”
“I’m coming over this weekend! We’ll go give him a piece of our minds! If that doesn’t work, we’ll sue him!”
“Don’t,” I cut her off. “I can handle this myself.”
“Handle what? You’re just too nice, Brian! That’s why people walk all over you!” Chloe said, frustrated.
I leaned against the cold wall, looking at the half-packed boxes around me. My voice was soft but firm.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to let him get away with it.”
Chloe was quiet for a moment, seeming to process my words.
“…Brian, don’t do anything stupid.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
After hanging up, I surveyed the “home” I had built with my own hands. My gaze swept from the bookshelf to the wardrobe, to the curtains, and finally landed on the vibrant green pothos.
My expression hardened.
I took a tape measure from my toolbox and extended it with a sharp snap.
The cold metal tape gleamed.
I began to measure every piece of furniture I had bought, recording the dimensions down to the millimeter.
This was a war.
A silent, one-man war.
And I would be the only victor.
04
Early Saturday morning, my doorbell rang.
It was Chloe, carrying bags of snacks. The moment she stepped inside and saw the sea of cardboard boxes, her eyes welled up.
“Brian, I’m so sorry you’re going through this.” She dropped the bags and gave me a tight hug.
I patted her back. “It’s okay. Out with the old, in with the new.”
She pulled away, pacing the room angrily. “That landlord is a piece of work! No, I can’t let this go. I’m going to call and curse him out right now!”
“Don’t,” I stopped her. “Save your energy.”
Just then, the doorbell rang again.
I opened the door to find three men in blue work uniforms. The man in front asked politely, “Are you Mr. Brian? We’re from the disassembly service.”
“That’s me. Come on in.”
Chloe stared, dumbfounded, as the three burly men walked in with their toolboxes.
“Brian, you… you hired movers? Isn’t it a bit early?”
I didn’t say anything, just gave the lead worker a nod.
He walked over to the massive wardrobe in the living room and pulled out a power drill and a screwdriver.
BZZZZZZT—
The sound of the drill was deafening in the quiet room.
Chloe’s jaw dropped, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“Brian! What are you doing? You’re taking the wardrobe apart?”
“I bought it. Why wouldn’t I take it with me?” I asked calmly.
“But—but it’s custom-built! It’ll be such a pain to reassemble!”
“A pain,” I said, “is better than leaving it for someone like him.”
The workers were efficient. In less than half an hour, the seemingly indestructible wardrobe had been broken down into a neat stack of labeled wooden panels against the wall.
Next came the bookshelf, the curtain rods, the soundproof door I had installed myself.
Everything I had added, everything that could be moved, was methodically disassembled and packed.
My phone vibrated.
A text from Mr. Finch.
“Brian, how’s the move going? Hurry it up. My son and his fiancée are waiting to get in and take measurements for the renovation.”
The message oozed with impatience and smug satisfaction.
I glanced at it, didn’t reply, and put my phone on silent.
I wasn’t going to let any garbage disturb my focus.
Chloe stood by, her expression shifting from shock to contemplation, and finally, to dawning realization.
She looked at me as I directed the workers and said quietly, “Brian, for a second there, I almost didn’t recognize you.”
I turned to look at her.
She quickly added, “But damn, this is satisfying!”
A huge grin spread across her face. She even ran over to offer the workers bottles of water.
“Thank you for your hard work, guys! Take your time, be careful! These are our treasures!”
Seeing her in full “partner-in-crime” mode, the tension that had been gripping me for days finally eased a little.
It seemed I wasn’t fighting this war alone after all.
The disassembled items were professionally wrapped and loaded into a large truck. As it drove away, Chloe waved enthusiastically, as if seeing off a general heading into a great battle.
I knew this was just the prelude.
The main event was yet to come.
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My stepsister, who had been paralyzed for six years, was pregnant.
I reached for my phone to call the police, but my father’s hand clamped down on my wrist.
“Iris,” he said, his voice a low command, “this child is yours, too.”
My husband, Patrick Hayes, stood silently by my father’s side, his silence a confirmation of this entire grotesque charade.
I understood.
The child my stepsister was carrying was his.
Seeing my silence, Patrick took a step forward, positioning himself between me and my stepsister, Rosalie.
“Iris, this was my decision, and your father’s. Don’t blame Rosalie.”
He spoke to me with the kind of placating tone one uses for a difficult child.
“You were never willing to have a baby. You know what people have been saying, the whispers behind our backs.”
He gestured to Rosalie’s bed. “She’s paralyzed. She’s your own sister. Her having this baby won’t threaten your position as Mrs. Hayes.”
Every word they spoke was supposedly for my benefit.
Yet they had acted first, never once asking if this was what I wanted.
In their eyes, I was the woman who never said no.
But they didn’t know. The time I had promised my mother, the time I would spend taking care of the Lowell and Hayes families, was up.
It was time for me to leave.
Patrick’s hand was still resting on Rosalie’s swollen belly.
The sight was a physical pain, sharp and blinding.
“Don’t be mad at Patrick, big sister,” Rosalie said from the bed, a harmless, innocent smile playing on her lips.
“The doctor said my body is very fragile. Patrick was just worried that something might happen to me and the baby. That’s why he kept it from you.”
She patted the back of my hand, her touch cloying. “We’re doing this for you. You’ve been Mrs. Hayes for so many years, with no children to show for it. It’s embarrassing.”
She looked up at me with wide, pleading eyes. “When the baby is born, we’ll register him under your name. He’ll call you ‘Mommy,’ okay?”
My father cleared his throat, assuming the mantle of the patriarch.
“Iris! Rosalie is carrying the Hayes family heir! He is the future of the Lowell family as well!”
He glared at me. “Your sister, despite her condition, is helping you, helping this family. You should be grateful, not standing there with a face like death.”
Patrick finally removed his hand from Rosalie’s stomach and walked toward me.
He reached for my hand, but I pulled away.
His arm froze in mid-air.
“Iris, we’ve been married for years. Don’t you know me by now?”
His voice was a soft, wounded thing. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you, for our family. I can’t stand by while people call you a barren hen behind your back.”
I stared at him, unable to form a single word.
Seeing that I was unmoved, Patrick’s patience wore thin. He tugged at his tie, his frustration showing.
“Alright, that’s enough. Stop making a scene. I’ve asked the housekeeper to prepare a special dinner to celebrate.”
He turned his back on me. “As the lady of the house, you should at least show some grace.”
He went to Rosalie’s side, his movements gentle in a way I had never seen before.
“Rosalie, my love, what would you like to eat? I’ll have the kitchen make it for you.”
Rosalie leaned against him weakly, her voice a coquettish whisper. “I want that delicate consommé. And I want you to feed it to me yourself.”
“Of course. Anything for you.”
They flirted as if I wasn’t there, as if I were a piece of furniture.
I stood there, feeling laughably redundant.
Just then, our family physician, Dr. Evans, walked in with his medical bag.
He was beaming as he pulled a folder from his bag.
“Mr. Hayes, Mr. Lowell, wonderful news!”
He handed the report to Patrick, his voice booming.
“Miss Lowell’s pregnancy is very stable. And the ultrasound… it looks like a boy! Congratulations, Mr. Hayes, you have an heir!”
Patrick leaned down and kissed Rosalie soundly.
My father’s face was flushed with excitement.
Dr. Evans turned to me, his smile tinged with pity.
“Mrs. Hayes, don’t be too upset. Since you haven’t been able to conceive, letting Miss Lowell help you out is just as good.”
The room was filled with joyous laughter, each sound a needle piercing my eardrums.
I clutched my phone, my nails digging into my palm.
Patrick walked over to me, holding the ultrasound picture like a trophy.
“Iris, look. Isn’t he adorable? From now on, he’s our child.”
My father was quick to add, “But Iris, even though the child will be registered under your name, he will still call Rosalie ‘Mom’.”
They were just as they had always been, assuming I would bow to their every demand.
Just like the day after my mother’s funeral, when my father brought home a stepsister who was barely six months younger than me. He’d claimed she was the daughter of an old friend, but her face was a near-perfect copy of his own.
Just like when Patrick said he wanted a child, and I subjected myself to countless folk remedies and painful treatments, even though I had told him before we were married that my health was poor and it would be difficult for me to conceive.
Seven years ago, at my mother’s deathbed, I had made a solemn vow.
I would support my weak-willed father and prop up the Lowell family business. I would help Patrick, who had nothing to his name, pave a golden path to success.
To my mother, the Lowell family was a legacy of love, and the Hayes family was a debt of gratitude. They were the two things she couldn’t let go of.
But to me, it was just a contract.
And now, the seven years were up. There was nothing left for me here.
I turned and walked out, closing the door on their picture of domestic bliss.
On a deserted balcony, I dialed the number of the lawyer my mother had designated before her death.
“Mr. Cole, the seven years are up.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by a soft sigh.
“Miss Lowell. Everything is prepared. On your word, all capital invested in Lowell Corp and Hayes Industries will begin to be withdrawn within twenty-four hours. We estimate a full extraction can be completed in six days.”
“Begin.”
After I hung up, I felt the rope that had bound me for seven years finally begin to loosen.
Patrick appeared beside me, his brow furrowed.
“Who were you talking to? All secretive.”
He looked at me with disapproval. “Iris, I’m warning you, don’t take the family’s money and make foolish investments. We have a child to raise now. Every penny counts. You need to be more frugal.”
He lectured me as if it were his right, completely forgetting that every penny he had was earned through my efforts.
I ignored him and walked to the dining room.
The long table was laden with food, but every single dish was one of Rosalie’s favorites.
Patrick was meticulously deboning a fish for her, so engrossed that he didn’t even notice I hadn’t touched my chopsticks.
My father, his face red from wine, pointed a finger at me.
“Iris, transfer the Lowell Corp shares under your name to the baby in Rosalie’s belly. Consider it a welcome gift from his aunt.”
I looked up at his face, a canvas of greed and calculation.
I nodded.
“Fine.”
My easy agreement seemed to stun them.
Patrick was the first to recover, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.
“See? I told you Iris was the most reasonable of us all.”
He immediately took charge. “The portion of my company’s shares under your name… you should transfer those as well. For our child. I know you’ll agree.”
Rosalie, nestled in his arms, tugged at his sleeve with feigned concern. “Patrick, don’t be like that. You’ll make sister unhappy.”
My father scoffed. “Unhappy? She’s thrilled! Aren’t you, Iris? Come on, raise a glass to Rosalie and say a few words of blessing.”
Patrick picked up a glass of red wine and held it out to me.
“I can’t drink,” I said.
Patrick’s face darkened instantly.
“What do you mean, you can’t? What about the Southside project, when you drank until you had stomach bleeding? You didn’t say you couldn’t drink then.”
My father chimed in. “Exactly. You’ve been drinking at business dinners for years. As I recall, you were more than happy to do it then. You fought for the chance.”
For years, one of them had to maintain the image of the refined CEO, the other the dignified chairman.
The dirty work of groveling and schmoozing naturally fell to me.
Six more days, I counted silently in my head.
I took the glass Patrick was practically shoving in my face and turned to Rosalie.
The triumphant smirk on her face was impossible to miss.
I raised my glass.
“I wish you,” I said, enunciating each word, “get everything you’ve ever wanted.”
Later that night, a searing pain in my stomach ripped me from a nightmare.
Cold sweat soaked through my pajamas. I curled into a ball, every breath a sharp agony.
I fumbled on the nightstand for my painkillers, but my hand met only empty space.
Then I remembered. The housekeeper had cleared out all the medicine in the house, claiming the smell bothered Rosalie.
The huge villa was silent.
They were probably all in Rosalie’s room, fussing over her.
I struggled out of bed and drove myself to the hospital.
In the emergency room, the doctor looked at my chart, his brow furrowed in concern.
“How did you let it get this bad again? Didn’t I tell you to take care of yourself?”
He looked up at me, his tone reproachful. “Isn’t Mr. Hayes keeping an eye on you? The last time he was here, he begged me to do whatever it took to get you well.”
I felt a pang of something distant.
The first time my stomach had given out, I had ended up here.
Patrick had carried me into the ER, his eyes red with panic, grabbing the doctor’s arm and asking again and again what he could do.
After I was discharged, he hid all my work files and cooked porridge for me himself. He was constantly at the hospital, discussing my diet with the doctor.
He had truly loved me then.
But that love had vanished.
Perhaps I was too busy. Too busy to notice anyone’s feelings.
I remembered the last time Patrick and I had fought. I had worked for three days straight on a project, without sleep, and missed a trip we had planned.
He had exploded at me, the first time he had ever raised his voice like that.
He called me a cold-blooded monster who only cared about work, a woman who had failed in her duties as a wife.
I was stunned at the time.
I was just trying to be like my mother, to give them a better life. What had I done wrong?
Running two companies was exhausting. There was never time to think.
By the time I looked up, everything had changed.
My phone vibrated, pulling me from my thoughts.
It was a text from Patrick.
“Dad and I are taking Rosalie on a vacation to cheer her up. Wire six million from the company account.”
I replied with a simple “Okay,” just as I always had.
Then I messaged the CFO and authorized an unlimited spending limit for them.
It wouldn’t be my company for much longer. A cash flow crisis wasn’t my problem.
The doctor was still talking. “You have to follow my instructions. You can’t keep abusing your body like this.”
I nodded firmly. “I will, doctor. It won’t happen again.”
From now on, I would live only for myself.
I stayed in the hospital for a few days.
Patrick never called.
The only call I received was from a very nervous CFO.
“Ms. Lowell, Mr. Hayes’s expenses… at the overseas resort… they’ve exceeded ten million. If this continues, the company’s cash flow will be completely depleted.”
I leaned against my pillow, staring at the gray sky outside.
“Let them.”
The CFO was frantic. “But Ms. Lowell, the first payment for the Southside project is due. If we use that money, we’ll be in breach of contract!”
“Do Mr. Hayes and Mr. Lowell know about this?”
He hesitated. “They said it was fine. They said you were here, that you would handle it.”
I let out a soft laugh. “Then let’s default.”
I hung up and checked myself out of the hospital.
Today was the seventh anniversary of my mother’s death.
It was also the last day of my promise.
I bought a bouquet of white roses, her favorite, and drove to the cemetery in the West Hills.
But as I stood before the familiar plot, I froze.
The photo on the headstone was of a stranger.
The name carved into the marble was Linda.
Rosalie’s biological mother.
The blood in my veins turned to ice.
I heard the sound of Patrick and Rosalie’s laughter behind me.
“Sister, you’re here so early.”
Patrick was carefully pushing Rosalie’s wheelchair, making sure she wasn’t jostled.
I pointed a trembling finger at the cold stone.
“Where is my mother?”
Patrick frowned, clearly displeased with my tone.
“Iris, keep your voice down. You’ll frighten Rosalie.”
He moved to shield her before explaining in a slow, deliberate voice, “Rosalie had a dream a few days ago. She said Linda was cold and alone. I had someone look into it, and your mother’s plot was a rare, sun-facing piece of land… so we moved Linda here.”
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My class teacher, the notorious “Female Demon,” confiscated a love letter a classmate gave me, but she didn’t make a fuss about it.
I thought I had escaped a calamity.
Unexpectedly, at the parent-teacher meeting, she took it out and made me read it aloud in front of everyone.
I stared at the gazes of all the parents and classmates, whispering a plea:
“Can we talk about this in private?”
The class teacher looked at me with contempt:
“You’re not afraid of losing face when you do such shameless things?”
“I insist on seeing who this shameless boy is today!”
I was dumbfounded.
That person is your son!
1
At the parent-teacher meeting, I went on stage as the outstanding student representative to give a speech.
Just as I finished my thanks and was about to step down, the class teacher grabbed me.
With a stern face, she took out the love letter someone gave me that she had confiscated last week.
“In my fifteen years of teaching, this is the first time I’ve encountered puppy love!”
“Today I must strictly rectify this matter!”
I was stunned.
I knew the class teacher’s personality of making mountains out of molehills.
At first, I rejoiced, thinking she had let me off, but I didn’t expect she was saving it specifically for the parent-teacher meeting.
She deliberately wanted to embarrass me and that classmate in front of all the parents!
Sure enough, the parents below immediately started whispering, and my parents stared with wide eyes in shock.
I hesitated. Should I directly say it was her son, Liam Parker, who wrote it to me?
But the class teacher cherished her reputation the most.
I thought about it and decided it was more important to protect his reputation, so I said awkwardly:
“Can we talk about this in private?”
Hearing this, the sneer on the class teacher’s face became even more obvious.
“Now you know shame? Now you know it’s embarrassing? What were you doing before?”
“Student Chloe Stone, I know you were passive, but you took the love letter and hid it, wanting to shield him. That’s your problem.”
“Today I must drag out this shameless boy who wrote the love letter!”
My dad stood up, his face a bit unnatural:
“Teacher Lee, the children are grown up and know what self-esteem is. With so many people watching, how about we parents discuss it privately…”
“Discuss it? Am I asking you two families to arrange a blind date?”
“If you parents don’t take it seriously, fine, go home and reflect for a few days.”
Hearing about going home to reflect, my dad instantly fell silent.
The class teacher paused, and a thick hand pressed on my shoulder: “Read it, read it aloud.”
Before being forced to read the love letter, I glanced at Liam.
His face alternated between green and white, as if going through some difficult decision.
I bit the bullet and read the love letter:
“Dear Chloe Stone… Since seeing you in freshman year, your face has been circling in my mind. In class, sleeping, resting, running, even during exams, I’m thinking of you.”
“Stop, stop, stop, let me say a few words!”
The class teacher frowned deeply, knocking on the podium with a board, signaling everyone to look at her.
“See, students! This is the harm of puppy love! It directly affects studies and exams!”
“Everyone knows my child Liam, right? First in the grade from freshman to senior year!”
“It’s because he puts all his mind on studying!”
After speaking, the class teacher frowned at me again:
“Especially you, Chloe Stone, you should look up to him the most.”
“Alright, continue reading.”
I held back the吐槽 in my heart. Look up to your son, huh?
Isn’t he the one who wrote me the love letter?
2
I continued reading: “Chloe, I can’t get enough of looking at you. This is my happiest year, the year closest to you. Before, I always liked listening to the teacher carefully, but since we came to the same class, I’ve been looking at you…”
The class teacher raised her hand to signal me to pause; obviously, she was starting her drama again.
“Students, what should you look at in class? The blackboard and the teacher! Not other students’ faces!”
“Why can Liam always keep up with the teacher’s pace and answer questions in time?”
“Because he is focused and undistracted in learning and thinking during class!”
“How can such a student not have good grades? How can teachers not like him?”
After speaking, the class teacher aimed the gun at me again. She said with disgust:
“Unlike some students in our class who affect others in class, black sheep!”
My hand gripping the love letter was already trembling a little.
If the class teacher knew that the person she kept telling me to learn from happened to be the one who had a crush on me and looked at me in class, what would she think?
I was standing up there, and my parents down below were also embarrassed.
I quickly finished reading the last few sentences of the love letter, just wanting to end it quickly and get off the stage.
“Chloe, can you consider being with me? I am sincere… and will be responsible for you.”
After reading this sentence, the audience was in an uproar.
My parents opened their mouths in disbelief, and the class teacher’s face turned completely black.
The students’ faces were more colorful than the next.
“Serious and responsible?”
“Do you guys think the class beauty Chloe has already done that with someone…”
“Shh, keep your voice down, my dad is behind me.”
Questioning gazes scrutinized me constantly. Some parents even started to be frivolous:
“Really unexpected, she looked quite decent…”
Smack! Liam suddenly slammed the table, his voice stern.
3
“Please keep quiet and watch your words!”
Parents and students looked over at the sound, muttering:
“What’s he pretending to be high and mighty for? I don’t believe he’s not gossipy at all!”
“Son, this is that Liam Parker in your class, right…”
“Hey, don’t you know? Apart from studying, I’m afraid nothing can shake him!”
Although there was less discussion, everyone looked a bit unhappy.
The class teacher paused and smiled:
“Please don’t blame him, everyone.”
“My Liam is just too rigid, never thinking about anything other than studying.”
The class teacher was still chattering, and I just wanted to get off the stage.
The class teacher’s requirement was that I could get off after finishing reading.
Now I had finished reading.
But she was quick, grabbing my collar, aggressive.
“Why are you in such a hurry to get down?”
“You haven’t said who it is yet?”
I asked in disbelief: “Didn’t you say I didn’t have to say it after reading the love letter?”
The class teacher didn’t expect me to retort and said angrily:
“You don’t have to say it, fine. Stand on the stage then. You can go down when that person stands up!”
I got anxious: “But you clearly promised me just now.”
She sneered: “Saying it like that makes it my fault.”
“Fine then! You go down. Bear the consequences yourself!”
Now I was really uncomfortable.
I originally didn’t say it just to protect the relationship between the two of them.
The class teacher kept pressing, just to force out who it was from my mouth.
As if I were the object she wanted to interrogate and isolate.
But I just wanted to help her hide the truth about her son’s puppy love.
Liam had the most honors in the whole school. Getting a disciplinary action for this would definitely affect the upcoming internal recruitment.
The class teacher valued her reputation like her life. If she made such a big fool of herself today, I couldn’t imagine how big a blow it would be to her!
Thinking about it, my eyes became misty.
A parent couldn’t help but try to persuade:
“Why not let it go? The kids are almost adults and have their pride.”
The class teacher intensified her efforts, scolding:
“What pride! Do they even know pride? One is impure, the other dares to do it but not admit it!”
“After doing it, you won’t even let me talk about it?”
“Am I not thinking for the class? Pains-takingly trying to have a good learning atmosphere?”
“Saying it like that makes it my fault instead!”
That parent’s face changed and retreated into the crowd.
Liam finally raised his head and gritted his teeth:
“Teacher! Actually…”
4
“What are you guys doing?”
The dean and the school committee superiors walked over with serious faces, interrupting Liam.
Knowing the class teacher was holding a parent-teacher meeting today, they intended to show their faces, especially after hearing such a big commotion.
With the dean backing her, the class teacher became even more unscrupulous.
“In my opinion, parents should reflect on themselves the most!”
“Especially the boy’s parents. If their child does something like that, is there any family education at all? Have the parents put any thought into their child!”
After speaking, the class teacher frowned as if helpless:
“Don’t look at Liam being so disciplined and motivated. That’s all because of me! I wish I could watch and manage him 24 hours a day! That’s how I cultivated so many excellent habits in him!”
“I don’t know how some parents raise their children usually to develop such problems!”
Various questioning gazes scanned around and finally landed on my parents’ faces.
I endured it when she picked on me, but I didn’t want my parents to suffer discrimination along with me.
Besides, didn’t Liam send me the love letter under your “strict watch” 24 hours a day?!
I retorted: “What’s wrong with my parents? At least I’m an outstanding student representative.”
“Also, I don’t even know what ‘that kind of thing’ you’re talking about is!”
The class teacher sneered as if hearing a joke:
“I’ve been teaching for so many years and understand student psychology too well. You won’t shed tears until you see the coffin. If you insist on pretending, then let me ask you, did you or did you not have… with that boy…”
“Teacher!”
In the crowd of parents, my mom stood out anxiously. If the class teacher really said those words, her daughter’s reputation would be ruined for life.
“I know my Chloe’s character. She wouldn’t do such things.”
The class teacher smiled without warmth:
“Chloe’s mother, I understand how you feel as parents. I don’t want this to happen either.”
“But you were completely unaware that your daughter received a love letter and was about to engage in puppy love.”
My mom was anxious: “Yes! Teacher, we parents didn’t watch carefully regarding receiving the love letter!”
“But one thing is one thing. Those are all guesses.”
“But if you say that with so many people here, my daughter’s reputation will be ruined. Her life will be over…”
The class teacher retorted sarcastically: “How did I say it? Which sentence of mine is wrong?”
“Did she receive a love letter? Was it written in the love letter?”
“I believe Chloe too, but which boy at this age isn’t like dry wood and raging fire?”
My mom was choked, “B-but…”
The class teacher waved her hand: “Fine! I understand, girls are all shy.”
“Then let your daughter call out that shameless boy! Isn’t she hiding and avoiding by not mentioning a word about that boy!”
Instantly, the eyes of all classmates and parents turned back to me, and my mom looked at me anxiously.
As long as I said it, all problems would be gone.
I fell silent.
Discussions rose again offstage: “Holy crap, is it true?”
“Must be, she doesn’t even dare to say the boy’s name.”
My mom wanted to explain for me, but only opened her mouth, not knowing what to refute.
The class teacher sneered:
“Don’t blame yourself too much. In the end, you just made a mistake in this matter.”
“The one who should reflect most is that shameless boy.”
“Claiming to like her, yet letting her bear the pressure alone on stage! Is this what boys call sincerity? Simply ridiculous!”
“Not even daring to stand up and admit it, what responsibility do you have?”
Smack! Liam stood up, his gaze burning.
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My niece was diagnosed with a rare disease, and the hospital’s consultation yielded no solutions.
So, seven years after our breakup, I had no choice but to dial Ethan Walker’s number.
The top expert in the field was my ex-boyfriend.
He was also the boy I personally crushed into the mud on a rainy night seven years ago.
1
“Who is this?”
The voice on the phone was cold, tinged with faint exhaustion, as if he had just come out of surgery.
“It’s me,” I whispered.
Silence fell on the other end.
Afraid he would hang up immediately, I quickly explained my reason:
“My niece, Lily, has a rare disease and needs surgery. I checked, and you’re the only one in the field who can do it.”
“Ethan, she’s only six… Can you, please, help her?”
I waited anxiously for Ethan’s answer.
I didn’t know how long passed before Ethan’s voice came again.
“Send the address and case file to my email. I have another surgery tonight. I’ll come over after I’m done.”
He agreed.
I let out a huge sigh of relief. After hanging up, I collapsed onto the cot, my palms damp with sweat.
For a moment, I wanted to thank all the gods that Ethan still retained a doctor’s benevolent heart after everything he had been through.
2
I thought since Ethan had surgery at night, he wouldn’t come until the next day.
Unexpectedly, in the middle of the night, just as I was dozing off, my phone lit up.
【I’m here.】
I was dazed for a moment. Looking up through the glass, I saw Ethan standing outside the ward.
There was a girl next to him.
I walked out of the ward, closing the door gently so as not to wake the sleeping Lily.
Before I could speak, Ethan briefly explained the situation in a few words.
“I’ve seen Lily’s case file. We need to wait until tomorrow to have another consultation with colleagues here to further confirm the condition.”
“Chloe is my colleague. I might be busy in a couple of days. If I’m not around and there’s something wrong with the patient, look for her first.”
Chloe had a high ponytail. Even though there was some fatigue from the long journey on her face, it couldn’t hide her bright and capable aura.
She smiled at me, greeted me simply and generously, then turned to Ethan.
“Senior, you guys talk. I have to go back first; I have a cat to feed at home.”
Ethan nodded.
So in the quiet hospital corridor, only Ethan and I were left.
I suddenly felt a little nervous.
“You…”
“Sarah…”
We spoke at the same time and stopped at the same time.
“You go first.”
Ethan took a step back and put his briefcase on the chair.
I was speechless for a moment, so I racked my brains to find something to say.
“Isn’t Dr. Hart your colleague? How come she lives here and has a cat?”
…What a lame topic.
Ethan was also silent.
Just when I thought he wouldn’t answer, Ethan spoke.
“Her parents’ house is here. The cat is a rescued stray. It loves to go out and isn’t afraid of people, so it often follows her around.”
My heart trembled suddenly.
Because of the natural familiarity with Chloe revealed in his words.
“Is that what you wanted to ask?”
Under the dim lights of the corridor, Ethan looked at me, his gaze obscure.
After seven years apart, he looked steadier and calmer.
He was no longer the boy covered in mess the year we broke up.
I opened my mouth, not knowing what to say.
What happened back then has been over for so long. Is there any point in bringing it up now?
So I changed the subject.
“You just said Lily’s condition needs to wait for tomorrow’s consultation.”
“Are you… confident?”
Ethan closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was calm and distant, completely dispelling the subtle atmosphere lingering between us.
“Rare diseases are classified as rare for a reason.”
“I will do my best.”
A silent silence spread between us.
Ethan gave me a fixed look, turned, and prepared to walk away.
I instinctively looked up. My body moved faster than my brain, and I grabbed his hand.
Ethan froze.
My brain slowly came back online, and I withdrew my hand as if electrocuted.
—But he grabbed it.
Ethan held my wrist, turned back, his gaze trembling slightly.
Then he lowered his eyes, hiding the suppressed emotions, and spoke hoarsely.
“Sarah, you dumped me back then. Don’t provoke me now.”
“As a patient’s family member, please have some self-respect.”
My heart instantly ached like it was being cut by a knife.
The moment Ethan let go, I fled.
I didn’t look back, so I didn’t know that Ethan stood there for a long time.
Nor did I know that he watched my retreating figure, forbearing and restrained, bringing the palm that had held mine to his lips, leaving a very light, very light kiss.
3
I sat by Lily’s bed all night.
The first person to come in the next day was Chloe.
“You and Senior Walker are old acquaintances, right?”
She chatted with me while taking samples from the comatose Lily.
“…I guess so.”
“No wonder. I was wondering why he dragged me here in such a hurry last night. I’ve never seen him care so much about rare cases before.”
“You guys must be very close, right?”
She neatly packed up the instruments and handed them to the nurse, then turned around, looking at me with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.
“Um… sis, do you know how to pursue Senior Walker?”
“What?”
I was stunned.
Chloe counted on her fingers and added.
“You guys are so close, but you don’t seem to interact much usually. I’ve known him for three years and haven’t seen you.”
“Senior Walker has always been single. His social media and phone screensaver are clean.”
“So you must be childhood friends, the kind with a very strong bond, right?”
Her eyes were bright, like sunflowers blooming in summer.
“I’ve liked Senior Walker for a long time, but he’s always been cold, and no one can find a breakthrough point.”
“Can you tell me about him? Daily hobbies, little things from the past, anything is fine.”
My thoughts were in a trance for a moment.
Memories sealed for too long were opened by Chloe in a few words, disturbing my long-silent heart.
Ethan and I met very early.
When I moved to South City for school at eleven, he was the first friend I made.
Ethan’s family was very poor. His parents died early, and he only had his grandmother to depend on.
He wore a school uniform washed white, and took the first-place scholarship every year without fail.
Consequently, the bullying and isolation from the little hooligans in school also never stopped.
As a transfer student from outside, after rejecting their bullying invitations twice, I was also classified as an outcast like Ethan.
The leader of this group of hooligans was Brad, whose father was a local tyrant in South City.
Ethan, worried about his elderly grandmother, wouldn’t fight back even when cornered and beaten.
But my parents were alive and well, and I had a sister in the police academy. Growing up, I only caused trouble and was never afraid of it.
So when I passed by the alley, I picked up a brick and smashed Brad’s head from behind until it bled.
The hooligans scattered, revealing Ethan, covered in dust in the corner.
The moment he looked up in astonishment, only one thought remained in my mind.
—He’s damn beautiful. No wonder he’s targeted.
My whole family is good-looking, and I’m a picky face-judger.
So being attracted to Ethan was a matter of course.
I cut out the parts about myself and simply told Chloe the story.
After listening, the little girl’s eyes turned red.
“So Senior Walker had it so hard before…”
“Yeah, so when he was in school, he worked really hard.”
Making it so that I spent half my life chasing but could never catch up.
When Ethan walked over, Chloe had already wiped her tears.
She dutifully reported Lily’s condition to Ethan, the conversation mixed with many terms I couldn’t understand.
The sunlight spilled in from the window, shining warmly on them. They looked perfectly matched.
It hurt me extremely too.
My chest felt sour and swollen, nearly suffocating.
4
After their handover, Chloe went to busy herself with other things.
Ethan walked into the ward with the treatment plan. He frowned the moment he saw me.
“You didn’t sleep last night?”
I closed my sore eyes and shook my head at him, unwilling to talk more.
“So Lily…”
“The treatment plan is out. Is Lily’s guardian here?”
“I am her guardian.”
I said softly.
“What?”
Ethan was obviously stunned.
Counting back from age, I was only nineteen when Lily was born. It was impossible for me to have given birth to her.
But in a moment, he realized something.
“Your sister…”
“Three years ago, she died in the line of duty with my brother-in-law.”
Following the fragmentation of my happy family, my dearest sister also died the year I graduated.
I stated calmly with lowered eyes, my fingers clenched tightly where they couldn’t be seen, nails digging into flesh, hurting my palms.
“Sarah…”
“Ethan.”
I interrupted his unfinished words, my voice trembling uncontrollably despite my efforts.
The emotions stirred up when talking about the past with Chloe finally lost control upon hitting memories of my family.
I looked up at Ethan, my throat terribly hoarse, speaking almost chokingly.
“Ethan… I know I wronged you before, but I beg you… no matter what, save Lily.”
She is my only remaining relative.
Ethan pursed his lips, squatted halfway, and placed his palm gently on my shoulder.
He said: “Okay.”
“I promise you.”
He withdrew the original treatment plan and called back the colleagues for consultation again.
I didn’t know what exactly they discussed, but it must have caused quite a stir within the hospital.
Even the doctors looked at me with slightly different eyes.
But after the plan was finalized, I barely saw him again.
Only on the rare occasions when he needed to observe the patient personally would he come, record, and leave in a hurry.
Our communication didn’t exceed five sentences, three of which ended with single words like “mm” or “okay”.
He said he would be busy, but I didn’t expect him to be this busy.
Instead, Chloe spent more and more time with me to follow up on the condition.
She worked very seriously, with steady hands and fast movements. Even though Lily was in a coma almost all day, she tried her best to reduce the pain Lily suffered during treatment.
She was an excellent person.
Perhaps the single ward was too quiet. Chloe suddenly spoke, like chatting but also probing.
“Speaking of which, Senior Walker really cares about this case. He never actively used such a radical plan before.”
“Radical plan?”
I froze on the spot.
Chloe seemed to realize something and quickly explained:
“Sorry, sorry, you might not understand if you don’t know. Basically, the surgery is effective, but the success rate is relatively low, so the hospital usually recommends more conservative treatment.”
“But for a rare disease like Lily’s, the effect of conservative treatment… existing clinical data isn’t very good. It just prolongs it a bit.”
Her voice lowered, somewhat regretful.
“You are Senior Walker’s friend, so I’m telling you the truth. Even with him as the lead surgeon, only one case of such surgery has been successful.”
“But that case… didn’t survive the post-operative complications in the end.”
“So…”
I opened my mouth, my voice trembling unconsciously.
“That’s why many people in the hospital disapprove. If something really happens on the operating table… besides the lead surgeon, they will also be implicated.”
“He was already busy enough, and recently he’s been running to other provinces every day to find contacts, begging those retired teachers to help.”
No wonder he often disappeared recently, coming and going in a hurry.
No wonder his face often showed eraseable fatigue, and the faint dark circles under his eyes never faded.
I don’t remember what Chloe rambled about afterward.
I only knew that what Ethan did for me could no longer be covered simply by “a doctor’s benevolence.”
I leaned over the bed, looking at Lily’s weak face with the ventilator. Tears fell drop by drop, spreading dark marks on the snow-white sheets.
Chloe often chatted with me, fantasizing about what Ethan would be like when he was in love.
Would he still be so cold? Would he be a straight man who doesn’t even know how to give gifts?
Every time I agreed, there was a clear voice in my heart.
He won’t.
The way Ethan loves someone is sincere and vivid, the brightest stroke in the colors of my memory.
He would agree to all my unreasonable requests.
When he was a class committee member, he turned a blind eye to my skipping classes, and helped me hide my unwritten homework from the teacher.
Everyone in the family knew Ethan was a good student. Whenever they asked about my recent situation at school, I begged him to put in a few good words for me.
He agreed to everything, never saying no.
Although I loved to play and make trouble, I was smart enough. I finally got into the same key high school as him by just meeting the cutoff score.
In high school, his grades were still top-notch, so I pestered him to explain problems to me every now and then.
I suffered from math for a long time, so Ethan broke down the problems one by one and explained them to me.
We gradually became the two who left the latest after school.
At first, the homeroom teacher suspected us of puppy love and wanted to catch us in the act.
Unexpectedly, he caught us, but instead of love letters, he found stacks of densely written scratch paper.
Ethan explained patiently, and I listened seriously, learning by analogy. My grades improved by leaps and bounds.
So much so that when we really got together later, the teachers just mentioned it once and let it go.
“Ethan and Sarah? Let them date however they want. It won’t affect their grades. Breaking them up might actually cause trouble.”
So throughout high school, we were the only couple in the school who could hold hands openly.
Occasionally, a few troublemakers were dissatisfied, but they were all shut down by the teacher’s sentence: “If you can stabilize at either Ethan or Sarah’s score, you can date freely too.”
We walked side by side through the hardest winter and welcomed the busy and vibrant summer.
My birthday was on the eve of the college entrance exam. That night, Ethan passed me a note for the first time.
I remembered the time and place on the note, ignoring the fatigue of finishing the test papers, and quietly sneaked out of the dormitory in the middle of the night.
In the midsummer of my eighteenth year, I saw the most beautiful scenery in my memory.
It was a sea of blue flowers.
In a hidden corner by the playground, Ethan used countless bouquets as a base and caught dozens of fireflies to dance as candles.
My favorite blue daisies were woven into the most unique birthday cake by my favorite person, presented on the day I became an adult.
The boy stood in the center of the flower sea, his eyes as bright as a thousand stars.
He said: “Sarah, happy birthday.”
At that time, I thought I was the happiest person in the world.
At that time, I thought this moment would be eternal.
But I was wrong.
After the college entrance exam, I returned home. What greeted me was not the smiles of my parents and fragrant meals.
—But bright red, dazzling blood in the stairwell.
My sister hugged me tightly, her brand-new police badge hurting my cheek.
I pieced together the truth of the story from her tearful narration.
Cheating father, mother enduring for my exam, pregnant mistress coming to the door…
A slip of the hand during my father’s shoving, my mother rolled down the stairs and hit a sharp steel pipe in the trash pile in the stairwell.
A seemingly happy family was shattered in just a few hours.
And the call from the hooligan Brad was the last straw that broke me.
“My dad knows about your family’s mess.”
The hooligan laughed carelessly, his tone disgusting.
At eighteen, I gripped the phone tightly, trembling uncontrollably.
“Your sister just became a little police officer, right? Is she still an intern?”
“Well, I’m not a bad person. Dump Ethan hard, and I won’t mess with your sister, how about it?”
“Oh, didn’t that little bastard test out of the province? It’s a long way off, and his old hag at home can’t reach him, right?”
“Step him into the mud alone, or let everyone become stray dogs. You choose.”
When the phone hung up, I couldn’t tell if I was calm or numb.
The Ethan I loved would never give up his grandmother, whom he depended on for life.
I only had my sister left as a relative.
Besides…
I looked up at the gray sky. Fine rain hit my face, rolling down mixed with tears.
A doctor with a bright future shouldn’t have a lover born of a murderer.
I didn’t want to be the only stain on Ethan.
I had an agreement with him, agreeing that we would soar thousands of miles and stand side by side in the clouds.
I broke the promise.
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Five years after we broke up, I ran into Owen Sinclair thirty thousand feet in the air.
The girl in his arms had a purple tinge to her face and was struggling to breathe. His forehead was threaded with frantic veins as he yelled:
“A doctor! Is there a doctor on board?”
I pushed past the cluster of gawking passengers and knelt down, ignoring the shock in his eyes.
“I’m the purser. I have aviation medical emergency certification.”
He immediately clamped down on my wrist, his gaze filled with panic and mistrust.
“Maya Thorne! If you have a problem with me, take it up with me. Don’t touch the child!”
He lowered his voice, the words meant only for me. “The accident five years ago—Sienna was cleared! Don’t you dare go crazy on me.”
I pulled my hand free, my fingers already expertly checking the girl’s pupils and pulse.
“Mr. Sinclair,” I said, meeting his trembling gaze head-on. “Right now, I am the most qualified person on this entire plane to save her.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. He wanted to argue, but under my steady, icy stare, he finally backed away, defeated.
Oxygen mask, emergency injection, continuous monitoring…
I executed every action with precision and speed.
It wasn’t until the girl’s face began to flush pink and her breathing stabilized that I let out a long breath. I stood, turning toward the rear galley.
1
The flight was diverted and grounded at a regional airport due to a massive thunderstorm.
All flights were canceled, and the terminal lobby was absolute chaos.
I stood on the curb, the wind wet and cold, dragging my suitcase. My rideshare app showed 99+ people ahead of me in the queue.
A black Maybach, splashing through puddles, slid silently to a stop in front of me.
The window lowered, revealing Owen’s face, a mixture of fatigue and complex emotions.
In the passenger seat, Sienna, clutching the newly awakened child, gave me a shy, timid greeting: “Maya.”
I acted as if I hadn’t heard her, my eyes still glued to my phone screen.
The car door opened. Owen stepped out and strode directly toward me, roughly snatching my suitcase and tossing it into the trunk.
“You won’t get a cab in this weather.” His voice carried the same non-negotiable arrogance as always. “Don’t be difficult. Get in.”
I was half-pushed, half-shoved into the backseat.
The moment the door shut, it sealed out the wind and rain, but also trapped me in this suffocating space.
The piano music flowing from the speakers—it was the song we used to play most often when we were falling in love. Now, every note felt like a sneer at my past.
Sienna watched me carefully through the rearview mirror.
“Owen, thank goodness for Maya’s help,” she began, her voice soft and weak, before pivoting. “But I’m still a little shaken. What if… what if Maya was still angry and used that moment to…”
“Enough.” Owen snapped the command coldly.
Sienna immediately fell silent, wounded, her eyes welling up with tears.
I gave a silent, cold laugh. The same old routine. Five years, and nothing had changed.
After snapping at Sienna, Owen turned his attention to me, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror. His tone was a blend of high-horse condescension and a thinly veiled threat.
“What happened is over. Sienna has paid for her mistakes.”
“Maya, you need to move on.”
I finally looked up, meeting his stare, and let my cold laugh escape.
“Where you two aren’t is always a better view.”
Owen’s breath hitched, and a flash of embarrassment crossed his handsome face.
His gaze involuntarily slid to my left ring finger. Seeing it bare, his tense jawline seemed to relax for a brief moment. In the depths of his eyes, I caught a fleeting, almost undetectable flicker of relief.
The car smoothly entered a glittering, affluent gated community—Sinclair territory.
He had simply decided to bring me back to his family home without asking.
“Get out. Your clothes are soaked. Go inside and change, and while you’re at it, talk to my parents.”
He stopped the car, his voice a command laced with an imperceptible thread of testing.
Outside, his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, were waiting under umbrellas, clearly having been alerted.
The moment they saw me climb out of the back seat, their faces contorted.
Mrs. Sinclair’s shrill voice cut through the rain. “Why did you bring this jinx back here!”
The rain instantly soaked my uniform, chilling me to the bone.
I stood my ground, unmoving.
Owen frowned and stepped forward, trying to grab my wrist. “Don’t stand in the rain. Get inside and change!”
I violently yanked my hand away, my eyes colder than the rainy night.
“I have my own home, Mr. Sinclair. Save your concern.”
With that, I didn’t look back at him, or at the mansion where I had once dreamed of a future. I turned my back and walked with finality into the endless downpour.
Behind me, I heard Sienna’s feigned cry of worry and Owen’s frustrated, complex roar.
“Maya Thorne!”
The rain blurred my vision, washing over scars that had long since healed over.
I told myself this was the last time.
2
I climbed into a passing cab, dripping wet.
The blast of heat inside made me shiver, and the next moment, my stomach began to spasm violently.
A sudden cold sweat drenched my back.
I doubled over in the back seat, the pain forcing a familiar memory to the surface: the rainy night five years ago.
My mother lying in a pool of blood.
Sienna, the driver who hit her, panicked and blocked the ambulance, screaming about a staged accident. She single-handedly delayed life-saving intervention by the most crucial ten minutes.
And Owen? He had used every connection the Sinclair heir had to smother the scandal. It was ultimately classified as a simple “traffic accident.”
Afterward, they had the audacity to try to placate me with a check stained with my mother’s blood.
My phone buzzed, dragging me back to the present.
The screen showed a new WeChat/text request: Owen Sinclair.
The accompanying message read: “You’ll catch a cold soaking wet. I’m outside your building.”
I glanced out the window. That glaring Maybach was indeed parked outside the dilapidated apartment complex I rented.
I ignored it, paid the driver, and headed straight for the 24-hour pharmacy on the corner.
Just as I got my stomach medicine, I turned and was instantly cornered.
Owen’s towering figure loomed over me. He was holding a thermal container filled with the hot rice porridge from the place I used to love.
His brow was deeply furrowed. He softened his tone, yet it was edged with impatient pity.
“Maya, stop torturing yourself in this kind of slumming. ”
“Just apologize, come back to me, and I’ll set you up with an apartment that’s a hundred times better than this.”
I looked at him, then took the thermal container of hot porridge.
He thought I had finally given in.
Instead, I raised my arm and threw the porridge, container and all, with accurate aim into the nearby public trash bin.
“Maya Thorne!”
His rage was instant, the veins bulging. But he violently suppressed it, the fury finally dissolving into a weary sigh.
“When are you going to stop being so sharp?”
I pointed a finger at his chest, every word heavy with pain.
“The day you shielded a killer, that was the end of us.”
Owen’s eyes flickered wildly. He took a step forward, trying to grab my shoulders.
“Sienna was a victim, too. She was just terrified…”
Slap!
The sharp sound of the strike echoed loudly in the quiet rain.
I had used every ounce of my strength. His face snapped to the side, a clear, red imprint of my fingers blooming on his cheek.
He froze, clearly never having expected me to resort to violence.
Just then, his phone’s video call ringtone cut through the air.
Sienna’s tear-streaked face appeared on the screen, crying that she was dizzy and felt unwell.
The anger and conflict in Owen’s eyes were instantly replaced by alarm.
He hastily hung up the phone, cast me one last look—a complexity I couldn’t read—and then his voice was ice.
“You are impossible.”
“Maya, don’t ever ask me for help again.”
Watching the taillights of the Maybach drive decisively away, I finally lost my strength. Clutching my aching stomach, I slowly crouched down on the wet sidewalk.
My phone gave a soft chime in my pocket, the screen lighting up with a new message.
From the contact labeled L: “Off work yet? I’m coming to get you.”
A faint warmth, like a weak current, flowed back into my freezing heart.
3
I forced myself into the preparation room for my early morning flight, running on nothing but willpower.
To my surprise, Sienna was listed as a VIP passenger in first class.
Owen wasn’t on board, but he had personally called my direct supervisor, Marcus—a longtime sycophant of the Sinclairs—and specifically instructed him to give “special care” to Ms. Sienna.
Throughout the flight, I maintained my professional smile, serving every passenger.
When I got to Sienna, she requested a glass of red wine.
I placed the glass steadily on her small tray table and turned to leave.
A sharp shriek erupted behind me.
I spun around. A large patch of red wine was splattered across the front of her white dress. The empty wine glass was rolling on the floor by her feet.
She covered her chest, looking up at me with fake, tearful innocence. Her voice was quiet, yet loud enough for the surrounding passengers to hear.
“Maya… I know you’re still angry, but how could you do this to me?”
All eyes snapped to me, filled with scrutiny and implicit blame.
Before I could even speak, Marcus rushed in from the back.
He didn’t spare me a glance, addressing Sienna directly.
“Ms. Sienna, please don’t be upset. I’ll handle this immediately!”
He then turned to me, his face livid. “Maya Thorne! Apologize to Ms. Sienna right now!”
I met his rage with cold indifference. “I need to see the cabin video.”
“See what video!”
Marcus slammed my phone down on the counter. “The company is ordering you to apologize, so apologize! Don’t make this harder on yourself!”
After the plane landed, I was immediately escorted to the airline’s corporate office.
Sienna sat on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, shivering dramatically.
Marcus stood beside her, adding exaggerated details to his report.
The office door burst open. Owen strode in.
He went directly to Sienna, smoothly taking off his own suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders, murmuring soft words of comfort.
Then he turned to me, his eyes blazing with a “how could you” disappointment.
“It’s just an apology, Maya. How hard can that be?”
“Don’t throw your career away over something so petty.”
I met his stare, asking one word at a time.
“An apology? Is this to clear Sienna’s ‘innocence’ yet again?”
Owen’s gaze wavered. He avoided my eyes.
Furious, he stepped forward and grabbed my wrist, his grip alarmingly tight, attempting to drag me forcefully in front of Sienna.
“Listen to me. Don’t make this any uglier.”
The silent judgment from my colleagues felt like needles pricking my skin.
Sienna, nestled in Owen’s arms, flashed me a cold, triumphant smirk.
I struggled hard, the pressure on my wrist excruciating.
During the struggle, the silk scarf around my neck suddenly slipped.
A clear, possessive hickey—a kiss mark—was abruptly exposed to the air.
Owen froze. He stared intently at the blatant mark on my neck.
His grip on my wrist tightened so much it felt like he might crush the bone.
“Who did that?”
His voice was terrifyingly dark, as if all reason had snapped.
“Maya, you’re using cheap acts like this to get back at me? You’re making a mockery of yourself?”
I endured the pain, a look of almost cruel triumph blossoming on my face.
“Mr. Sinclair, I’m married.”
I tilted my neck back slightly, making the mark even more prominent.
“That’s called foreplay.”
He was completely enraged, pushing me hard against the cold wall. His eyes were bloodshot.
Beside him, Sienna looked nearly hysterical with jealousy.
4
Owen absolutely refused to believe I was married.
He confiscated my phone and IDs and forcibly brought me back to one of his penthouse apartments.
“Owen Sinclair, are you done being crazy?”
He tossed me onto the sofa, looking down at me.
“There’s an aviation industry gala tonight. You’re coming with me.”
I sneered. “Why should I?”
“Because I can make sure you never work a day in this industry again!”
He clamped his hand on my jaw, the madness in his eyes genuinely unnerving.
“I’m giving you a chance for redemption. Go to the gala and apologize to Sienna.”
Ha. Just as I suspected.
That evening, he made me trail behind Sienna like a handmaid, fetching her drinks and carrying her clutch.
The surrounding socialites and wealthy patrons whispered and pointed at me.
“Isn’t that the former Ms. Thorne? Look how she’s fallen.”
“I heard her mother’s accident was a huge scandal. Now she’s back to being a servant.”
Sienna pretended to defend me. “Don’t say that, everyone. Maya is just being difficult.”
The more she defended me, the louder the derisive laughter grew.
Owen stood a short distance away, sipping his drink, watching the spectacle with cold eyes.
He was waiting.
Waiting for me to break down, to cry and beg him, to discard all my dignity and submit to him once more.
But I didn’t.
I was unnervingly calm, even pausing to pick up a glass of champagne and sip it slowly.
My eyes scanned the elegant crowd, searching without drawing attention.
Owen seemed pleased by my apparent surrender.
He walked over and handed me a key card, his voice heavy with patronizing grace.
“Wait for me here tonight. We can start over.”
I took the key card.
Under Owen’s confident, expectant gaze, I snapped the flimsy card cleanly in half.
Then, I casually dropped the pieces into a passing server’s champagne glass.
“Owen Sinclair,”
My voice was quiet, but it clearly carried throughout the small corner. “You disgust me.”
The entire room went silent.
All eyes, hungry for drama, zeroed in on us.
Owen’s face instantly cycled from self-satisfaction to humiliation to blinding rage.
“Maya Thorne, you are asking for it!”
He raised his hand, ready to slap me across the face.
Sienna gasped dramatically, but her eyes were alight with gleeful excitement.
Just at that critical moment, the heavy, carved double doors of the ballroom burst open!
A swarm of men in black suits and earpieces filed in. Their presence was a powerful, immediate force that instantly silenced the entire room.
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On the eve of meeting my online boyfriend in person, I suddenly discovered that he was my stepbrother.
I stayed up all night editing a message:
[Baby, actually I’m already a 40-year-old mom this year, divorced twenty times, raising ten children alone.
[Are you still willing to accept me like this?]
Ten seconds later, I quickly added:
[I knew you would despise me! You’ve even started giving me the cold shoulder!
[Let’s break up!]
Delete, block, the whole package.
After my stepbrother got heartbroken, I drank with him until we were drunk.
“Brother, don’t cry, that bad woman isn’t worth it, you still have me, your sister.”
But the first thing he did after recovering from heartbreak was corner me:
“Tell me, should I call you baby, or sister?
“Ex-girl-friend.”
1
My stepbrother has been in a very bad mood lately.
Even Uncle Jiang, who is always busy with work, noticed it.
“What’s wrong with Julian lately? Looks like he’s heartbroken.
“But I remember he hasn’t been in a relationship.”
I lowered my head, daring not to speak at all.
After showering that day, my stepbrother suddenly stopped me.
“Sarah Shi, is my figure very bad?”
I dared not look into his eyes, my gaze wandering around.
“Brother, your figure is obviously very good.”
“Look into my eyes and say it.”
My stepbrother’s beautiful fox eyes were filled with brokenness and sadness at this moment.
Two consecutive days of depression made him look quite decadent.
I looked at him, forcing myself to be calm:
“Brother, it’s really good.”
Actually, I didn’t lie.
Julian Jiang has a typical male model figure, tall and straight posture, broad shoulders, narrow waist, inverted triangle.
He lowered his eyes and muttered:
“Then why would she rather make up lies to deceive me than continue to be with me?
“Is it because I’m not good enough?
“Why won’t she see me?”
I played dumb:
“Haha, Brother, what are you talking about?”
But in my heart I was thinking.
Why else?
Because your online dating partner is me——
Your sister.
2
Half a month ago, I discovered something strange about my stepbrother.
His usually cold face wore a smile, and he became a bit more gentle and close to me.
He even took me to his cloakroom and actively asked me which outfit suited him better.
After changing 5 sets in a row, I spoke slowly under his expectant gaze.
“Brother, you look handsome in anything.”
With a height of 188 cm, Julian Jiang is simply a walking clothes hanger. He can wear any random clothes with the temperament of a male model.
But he was obviously dissatisfied with my answer.
“Just choose the most handsome one according to your aesthetics.”
I had no choice but to ask him what kind of person he was meeting.
“Beautiful, gentle, kind, a 20-year-old female student.”
I suddenly realized and couldn’t help teasing him:
“So you are going to meet your girlfriend.”
Julian Jiang’s usually expressionless face was rarely dyed with a thin blush.
He coughed lightly:
“Don’t ask too much.”
But the upturned corners of his mouth still exposed his joy.
Couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person his girlfriend was to be missed by him, a cold-hearted person.
The final round was a set of navy blue shirt with black trousers,
and another set of white hoodie with jeans.
Julian Jiang stared at me.
I really couldn’t choose, so I could only decline.
“Brother, why don’t you ask my sister-in-law and see which one she prefers.”
“You teach me how to take photos.”
Under my guidance, he began to try various photo angles.
After finishing, I was sweating profusely.
He waved his hand and transferred me fifty thousand pocket money.
I was elated:
“Brother, you and sister-in-law are really a match made in heaven, a perfect match. You must have a baby early and grow old together.”
Back in the room, I found that my online dating partner had sent a message.
[Baby, we are going to meet, so nervous.]
[Baby, what color do you like?]
[Baby, what should I wear when meeting you, so conflicted, can you help me choose?]
When I opened the two photos, my hands were shaking.
The composition and color matching of these photos were too familiar.
Although the face was not shown, these two photos were indeed taken by me for my stepbrother just now.
Identical two sets of clothes.
I could even see a corner of my floral skirt exposed in the mirror.
So…
The clingy and gentle online dating partner turned out to be…
My cold and heartless stepbrother?!
3
Seeing that I hadn’t replied for a long time, messages kept popping up on the phone.
Pond Fish (Chi Yu):
[Baby, are you busy?]
[Baby, do you dislike both pieces? I have many other clothes.]
[What kind do you like, tell me okay?]
[Obedient cat.jpg]
I was immersed in shock and hadn’t recovered yet.
Simply didn’t know how to face him.
Pond Fish and I met in a game.
Coincidentally, his ID is Pond Fish (Chi Yu).
My ID is Old Abyss (Gu Yuan) [Note: from a poem, longing for the old abyss].
Teammates thought we were a couple.
Result we became enemies.
He banned my favorite hero, I stole his kills and health packs when he had sliver health.
I was sarcastic about his bad play, he mocked me for only playing soft support.
Neither of us submitted to the other, agreeing to fight another eight hundred rounds.
Don’t know when this contest seemed to change flavor.
[Prince of Lanling that sneak, why keep chasing me to kill?]
[King Little Qiao, watch me avenge you.]
[Princess Yao come take blue buff.]
[Duo Duo come eat minion wave.]
…
Until I saw his abs photo on his Moments.
Eight pack abs, distinct grooves, tender pink, cold white skin, hormones simply overflowing the screen.
This is simply my ideal type, I was attracted at first glance.
In getting along, I liked him more and more.
Finally he confessed first.
Three months into online dating.
We agreed to meet in person in three days.
But I really didn’t expect——
Pond Fish is my stepbrother.
4
I had complained about my stepbrother many times, and Pond Fish even helped me scold him.
[Baby, your stepbrother is really not a good thing. Already in his twenties, face dark every day, either mental illness or psychopath.]
[Unlike me, positive and optimistic every day, always with a smile on my face. So baby, you have to stay far away from your stepbrother.]
Looking back at chat records.
Clearly we were talking about the same person, why is the difference so big?
Messages kept popping up.
[Baby, did stepbrother make you angry again?]
[When we meet, I will definitely help you get revenge.]
[Baby, talk to me okay?]
Julian Jiang hates deception very much, he didn’t like me in the first place.
If he knew I often complained about him in private, I would be even more doomed.
Most importantly, we are brother and sister.
Brother and sister are brother and sister, how can Julian Jiang and I be pseudo-incest literature shining into reality?
I took a deep breath and replied perfunctorily with a few sentences.
[Baby, meeting soon, looking forward.]
Just thinking about meeting, Julian Jiang seeing the online dating partner is me, and then his face full of anger.
My heart trembled.
Fear overshadowed my liking for Pond Fish.
At 2 am, said goodnight to each other, confirming stepbrother was asleep.
I lied to him.
[Baby, actually I’m already a 40-year-old mom this year, divorced twenty times, raising ten children alone.
[Are you still willing to accept me like this?]
Ten seconds later, I quickly added:
[I knew you would despise me! You’ve even started giving me the cold shoulder!
[Let’s break up!]
Then blocked and deleted, the whole package.
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After five years of marriage, Luke Sullivan brought home models who could open a store with their sheer numbers.
Because of the baby in my belly, I chose to turn a blind eye.
Later, he personally dressed me in a princess gown, took me—all dolled up—to the hospital, and shaved my head.
Just to make a sick little girl smile.
I didn’t cry or make a scene.
Until our anniversary, when the little girl clamored to go skiing. Luke dragged me to the site to serve as a human cushion for Ava Lin.
On the snowy slope, Ava deliberately knocked me flying. Thick blood flowed beneath me.
I begged him to save the baby, but he picked up the unharmed Ava and spoke to me mockingly.
“Chloe Jiang, you lie more often than I sleep with you.”
“If you’re hurt, find the medical staff. Don’t blame me for not acknowledging the child if you delay Ava’s treatment!”
The baby died in my womb on the way to the hospital.
He let his friends laugh and bet on whether the baby would die.
I closed my eyes in despair:
“Luke, let’s stop torturing each other. Let’s divorce.”
……
The moment the doctor shook his head, I heard something shatter.
With trembling hands, I signed the death notification.
His friends rushed into my ward, spitting curses upon seeing my bloated body.
“Tsk! Bad luck, I lost!”
“What did I tell you? Luke is a god. Look at her wrapped up so thick, treasuring this baby so much.”
Hearing this, I forced the corners of my lips up with difficulty.
Multiple fractures all over my body, my abdomen wrapped in bandages, looking like I was five months pregnant.
Luke’s slender fingers tapped on the table.
He never looked at me once from beginning to end.
Until a knock on the door, and a paper agreement was thrown at me.
“Sign it! Say how much you want directly!”
“You’re a professional skier, not weak like Ava. A fall won’t kill you. Acting like this is pointless!”
I looked at the “Voluntary Waiver of Injury Assessment” on the floor and laughed out loud.
I raised my eyes, “Luke, the baby is dead.”
“What if I don’t sign?”
He paused for only a second, then burst out laughing:
“Trying to make me feel guilty? Do you think I’ll believe you? Cut the crap and sign, baby Ava is waiting for me.”
I looked at him, face ashen.
He sat in the ward for most of the day, never once asking about my safety.
He was afraid I would hold Ava accountable.
When he knew skiing was dangerous, he used his life to make me quit the ski team.
Now, for Ava, he forced pregnant me onto the snowfield.
Luke’s eyes were cold, impatience flashing through them.
A whole bag of cash poured over my head, stinging my face.
“Is that enough? If not, I’ll give more!”
My fingers gripped my collar tightly.
Through the money, I saw my own humiliation.
“Luke,” my voice was hoarse, “let’s stop entangled. Let’s get a divorce.”
If you asked what my wish was at 22.
It must be to be entangled with Luke Sullivan for a lifetime.
But now, I am truly numb.
Luke’s expression froze instantly, burning with rage.
“Unless I die, you can only endure my torture!”
His hand pressed hard on my wound, making me cry out in pain.
He didn’t know how many steel pins were in my body, nor that I almost died.
Even less did he know the baby was already dead.
I dared not say it hurt.
Couldn’t forget, last time I cried pain, Luke called me pretentious.
Swapped my allergy medicine for vitamins,
almost suffocating to death in the elevator.
“Chloe, playing hard to get in the wrong place. Take the baby out if you want to leave! Don’t even think about running away with the child.”
“If you dare not, kowtow every three steps from here to Ava’s ward to apologize, and I’ll forgive you.”
I stopped in my tracks, my body feeling filled with broken glass, piercing my flesh with every move.
As soon as his voice fell, his friends cheered.
Just like that year when our love was passionate and known to all.
We had a life-and-death friendship.
Back then, I desperately protected him, almost never waking up.
He, who never bowed his head, knelt before the Buddha for a long time, copying scriptures with blood.
Until the wedding day, everything changed.
No questioning, no noise, quietly finished the wedding.
From then on, he humiliated and tortured me in various ways.
Even the marital home we designed together was completely renovated by him for Ava to live in.
Returning to my own home felt like entering a sleazy hotel.
Cleaning up the mess all over the floor.
Thinking of this,
I looked at him with red eyes, pain submerging my reason.
“Okay.”
I don’t want to live days like this anymore.
Voice falling, I trembled as I unzipped my padded jacket. When I picked up the dagger on the table, he slammed the door and left.
Shaking me all over with pain.
After he left, the assistant stepped forward.
“President Sullivan ordered you to go serve in Miss Lin’s ward. Otherwise, he doesn’t guarantee that person’s grave will remain intact.”
2
My movement to turn around paused, tears swirling in my eyes.
“Let him do as he pleases.”
I went to the cemetery and bought a plot next to his for the baby.
Knelt for a long time, until footsteps came from behind.
Luke hugged Ava, saying duplicitously:
“By ‘do as he pleases,’ you meant coming to protect him yourself? Chloe, what do you take me for? A toy?”
He pushed Ava away, ruthlessly pulling me up.
“Since you want to protect him so much, let’s see if you can.”
My wig fell off during the struggle.
Ava covered her eyes and screamed. Luke pressed the back of my neck onto the tombstone.
“With this ghostly appearance, you dare want to be buried with him after death! Will he still love you?”
I looked at the scattered tombstone pieces, biting my lower lip until it bled.
I love him, but that’s my biological brother.
On the wedding day, I didn’t run away from the marriage, just to see my brother in the hospital for the last time.
I defended myself countless times, but what I got in return was being locked in the room watching him intimate with someone else.
He ignored me, gently patting Ava’s back to coax her.
“Ava is the bravest, don’t be afraid. Doesn’t she look much better being ugly?”
The piercing ridicule broke my heart.
Tears slid silently. I touched the centipede-like scar on the back of my head.
My heart felt cut by a dull knife.
To protect him, my skull cracked, stitched eighteen times, I didn’t cry pain once.
My proud hair turned bald, and I didn’t resist.
These sacrifices became sharp swords stabbing myself.
Sensing my movement, his hand hanging by his side clenched into a fist.
Ava stepped forward and hugged me first, teary-eyed:
“Sister, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have laughed at you. I apologize.”
After she finished, she leaned close to my ear and whispered:
“I did it on purpose that day skiing. Your baby deserved to die!”
My brain buzzed, and I rushed towards her.
Ava covered her ears and cried like rain, accusing me to Luke of biting her ear, but I didn’t touch her at all.
Luke flew into a rage and slapped me.
My ears buzzed, a fishy sweetness surged in my throat.
Firelight illuminated before my eyes. Luke held that group photo,
“Consider this my greeting to him today!”
He ordered the entire grave to be blown sky-high.
The ashes were blown to nothing.
I screamed hysterically, burning to ashes in an instant.
I pounced like crazy, but Luke yanked me back.
“You’re crazy!”
I collapsed on the ground, drained of even the strength to struggle.
That was the silly brother who raised me, my only relative. Why treat me like this?
I am crazy.
A thousand words couldn’t compare to one sentence from Ava.
The facts were right there, why wouldn’t he even verify it?
Do I deserve to die?
My throat tore with pain. I laughed dryly and fell backward.
When I woke up, Luke pinned my arm firmly.
The moment the needle pierced the vein, I was so numb I couldn’t even feel the pain.
Then he asked the doctor to take a piece of skin from my arm and throw it into the trash can.
I knew he was punishing me.
Meeting his gaze, I had no ripples.
This is nothing.
Once he blamed me for hurting Ava.
Letting her stick needles into me.
Another time, pregnant and feverish, I begged him to take me to the hospital.
He thought I was feigning illness out of jealousy to ruin their fun.
Used the baby to force me to clean up for Ava.
I never understood why two people who once loved each other became like this.
Even the brother who depended on each other since childhood had to be trampled and slandered after death.
With trembling hands, I took out my phone and dialed the long-lost number.
“Hello, I want to book a sand burial.”
3
In our wildest year, Luke said he wanted to be the most beautiful legend in the uninhabited desert.
At the most inappropriate age, we decided our resting place for old age.
But now…
Arriving at the door, the whole villa emitted colorful lights. I knew they were trying different themes again.
Sitting numbly on the steps, waiting drowsily.
A coat not smelling of Luke was draped over me.
“Why sitting here? Luke messing around again?”
Only when I saw clearly did I realize the noble man in front of me was Luke’s youngest uncle.
I smiled bleakly:
“Uncle, can you help me expedite my visa?”
The man just gave a deep, light “Mn.”
Early the next morning, Ava stood by my bed with hands on her hips.
A basin of cold water poured on my face, her expression hideous.
“Did you enjoy eavesdropping last night? Brother Luke praised my performance and gave me the ‘Eternal Love’ jade bracelet. Envious?”
I looked up sharply at her wrist, tears falling unworthily.
My brother saved money unwilling to treat his illness, bought this bracelet as my dowry.
The thought of them desecrating it like this exploded in my brain.
“Give it to me…”
Ava narrowed her eyes, hooked her red lips close to my ear, “Dare to bet?”
Next second, she pulled my hand and pressed her into the toilet, screaming wantonly.
“Help! I dare not anymore!”
Luke arrived and pressed me into the bath until I suffocated, carefully hugging Ava into his arms, cherishing her like a treasure.
Watching him kiss the dirty water-stained Ava meticulously, my pupils dilated.
“Brother Luke, this bracelet must be given by someone important to sister. If I die, I don’t want it anymore.”
Ava cried loudly, tears falling like rain.
Luke said nothing, glared at me fiercely. Picked up Ava and rushed to the hospital.
I suppressed the churning in my stomach, eyes sore and swollen.
Not long after, Luke’s bodyguards escorted me to the hospital.
Poured medicine into my mouth again and again, then pumped my stomach again and again.
Repeated dozens of times until I fell in pain. Tears uncontrollably vomited until fainting.
Next door.
Luke told stories to the bored Ava on IV, making her giggle continuously.
To coax her into stomach pumping, carried jewelry from all over the world into the hospital.
I closed my eyes. He spent a year nursing my stomach back to health before.
This torment completely ruined it.
Luke walked over coldly, meeting my red eyes, clenching his fist.
“Chloe, don’t think I’m reluctant to touch you. A broken bracelet, I’ll compensate you with a thousand.”
I coughed up a pool of blood, letting tears fall.
“Luke, will you only be happy if I die?”
Hearing this, Luke’s body shook.
Turning to look at my lower abdomen, sneering:
“Are you willing? The child you tried every way to keep, willing?”
I looked at the man in front of me who wouldn’t listen, didn’t want to explain anymore.
Ignoring his thunderous rage, pulled out the stomach tube and left.
Outside the hospital, Ava invited me into the car with a beaming smile.
Luke held Ava’s hand tightly, not giving me a glance.
The car was full of tangerine peel smell; he didn’t give me a chance to get off.
I opened the window. Luke said coldly:
“Close it. Ava is pregnant and afraid of wind.”
My fingertips trembled. He clearly knew how severe my allergy was.
I looked at my phone expressionlessly.
Luke’s face darkened a bit more. Ava giggled:
“Sister don’t blame, I wasn’t feeling well and asked Brother Luke to arrange it.”
I replied to messages, occasionally rubbing my arms covered in red spots.
Getting off the car, I covered my stomach and retched, vomiting until exhausted.
4
Visa approved, mood finally relieved.
Made more than ten dishes,
Just went back to the room to answer a call, all swept off the table by Ava.
Luke wasn’t angry, coaxing her patiently.
I covered my burning stomach.
When my cooking was bad before, he was reluctant to waste a bit.
Turns out people really change for the ones they like.
I squatted down numbly to clean up the mess, fingers dripping blood without feeling pain.
Luke frowned and pulled me up.
“Are you that cheap? Or do you regret and feel no one wants you after leaving me, rushing to serve and please me!”
My movement paused, meeting his gaze.
“Don’t forget to sign the divorce agreement!”
Hearing this, Luke flew into a rage. Ava wanted to help me up.
But before I moved, she fell straight onto the shards.
Luke caught her but pushed me into the shards.
Every breath hurt like knives in my back.
“Chloe…” He panicked instantly.
But hearing Ava’s cry for help,
froze for a second, picked up Ava sideways and rushed to the hospital.
I slowly closed my eyes.
The servants in the villa were all ordered by Luke to pray for Ava.
Opening eyes again, Luke sat by my bed with red eyes.
“Chloe, do you feel pain too? Why must you go this far? I’ll acknowledge your child, why must you harm Ava!”
I was stunned. Ava’s child is gone.
I wasn’t surprised, nor did I explain.
He already decided it was me.
Seeing me like this, he punched beside my ear: “Chloe, you are as vicious as ever!”
Even if my heart is numb, tears still can’t be controlled.
Luke, aren’t you vicious to me too?
To comfort Ava, Luke specially organized an auction for her.
When I came back to my senses, I was already at the venue.
Luke held Ava on his lap, causing envy from everyone.
While I, the legitimate wife, was mocked by thousands.
“Ava is so good and kind. Today’s reward is buy whatever you want, plus your favorite Buddhist treasures.”
The auction became Ava’s shopping spree. Her eyes looking at me were full of smugness.
I looked down at my phone indifferently, but Luke’s face grew darker.
I didn’t understand why he was angry.
Until Ava sat next to me, hooking a weird smile.
“Sister, stop looking at your phone. You’ll definitely care about the next item.”
I looked up in confusion, mind blanking out, blood freezing instantly.
Who else could be on the big screen if not my child?
“The next lot is the sarira beads specially incinerated by President Sullivan for his lover.”
As the host’s voice sounded,
I took out my phone with trembling hands and called the hospital. The hospital said the child’s body had been claimed.
I stood up abruptly, looking at the unmoved Luke.
These weren’t sarira beads, they were clearly beads polished from fetal bones.
Until the bidding started,
I raised the paddle with trembling hands, voice choking:
“Ten million!”
Luke was stunned for a moment, expression complex.
Malice flashed in Ava’s eyes, squeezing out some tears.
“Brother Luke, why is sister fighting with me? You forgot our child…”
Luke indulged without thinking, raising the paddle directly:
“Thirty million!”
“Forty million!”
I dug my nails into my hands, cold sweat soaking my clothes.
Don’t, don’t, please…
“Sky lantern!” (Refers to bidding whatever price necessary to win)
Instantly, I felt struck by lightning on my skull.
Weakly begging Luke:
“Luke, please give it to me, okay? Do you know that’s our child…”
Luke frowned and paused. Seeing Ava weeping like a pear blossom bathed in rain,
immediately shook me off in disgust:
“Chloe, lie with a limit. Your child is fine. To snatch Ava’s things, you really use any means…”
“No, my child long ago… believe me…”
Guests cursed me for disturbing their fun.
He found me too noisy, ordered people to throw me out.
Turned and hugged the smug Ava to continue shopping.
Until the auction neared its end, someone broke in shouting anxiously:
“Wrong, wrong, incinerated wrong.”
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“Forty thousand dollars. I’m never getting it back.”
I stared at the screen of my phone, my cousin’s social media feed searing my eyes.
A photo of a new house key, tied with a cheap, festive bow. The caption: Finally have a place of our own.
The phone rang. It was him.
“Riley, forty grand is nothing to you, but I was that short on the down payment. Can’t you just wait a little longer?”
I let out a short, hollow laugh.
Two years ago, he was on his knees, crying, calling it life-saving money, promising to repay it in three months.
Two years. Not a penny seen.
“Jake.” I opened my photo album and pulled up the screenshot. “You say you don’t have the money to repay me, but that new house key on your feed—did that come free with a phone upgrade?”
Silence hung on the line.
1
I remembered the whole thing with crystal clarity.
March 2023. My cousin, Jake, called me out of the blue, his voice shaking.
“Riley, you have to save me.”
I was working late, and the panic in his voice made me think it was an emergency.
“What’s wrong?”
“The business is in trouble. Vendors are demanding payment, and I can’t cover the gap.” His voice hitched. “I’m only short forty thousand. Three months, I swear, I’ll pay you back in three months.”
Forty thousand.
It was everything I had saved from five years of working. My entire nest egg.
“Jake, I…”
“Riley, I’m begging you.” A choked sob came over the phone. “You’re my last hope. The banks won’t touch me. I even took Aunt Brenda’s retirement money to fill the holes. I’m totally cornered.”
I hesitated for a long time.
Growing up, Jake had always been decent to me. When I got bullied in elementary school, he was the one who stood up for me. The year I applied to college, Aunt Brenda brought me her famous chicken casserole.
“Will you write an IOU?” I asked.
“Yes! Absolutely, I will!” He sounded like I’d thrown him a life raft. “I’m coming over right now. I’ll write it in front of you.”
An hour later, Jake was on my doorstep.
He actually dropped to his knees.
“Riley, this money is my life.” His eyes were red as he handed me the handwritten IOU. “Three months. I will pay it back. If I don’t, you can take me to court.”
My mother, Patty, stood by, sighing. “Jake, get up. We’re family. Why are you doing this?”
I didn’t say a word. I opened my banking app and transferred the $40,000.
As the transfer confirmation dinged, he bowed deeply.
“Riley, I’ll remember this kindness for a lifetime.”
A lifetime.
I found the word sickeningly ironic now.
Three months later, I called him.
“Jake, about the money…”
“Riley, I was just about to call you.” His voice was lighter, easier. “Things are still a little tight. Give me two more months, and I’ll definitely have it.”
I said okay.
Two months later, I called again.
This time, he didn’t pick up.
I sent a text. He replied: Super busy lately. I’ll be in touch in a few days.
A few days turned into a few weeks, which bled into a few months.
I soon realized he’d put me on a restrictive list on social media.
Everyone else could see his posts about dinners out, weekend trips, and new clothes.
I only saw generic reposts about organic eating or lame dad jokes.
I called my Aunt Brenda and asked how Jake was doing.
“Jake’s doing great,” she said cheerfully. “The business is slowly turning around.”
I asked, “What about the money he borrowed from me…”
Aunt Brenda paused for a second, then laughed. “Riley, honey, we’re family. What’s the rush? The minute Jake has it, he’ll pay you back.”
The minute he has it.
But when was that minute, exactly?
In early 2024, I tried a few more times. Jake either didn’t answer or told me, “Just be patient.”
I tried to be patient.
In mid-2024, my dad, Frank, went in for a routine check-up and they found a serious issue. The doctor said he needed surgery, and the out-of-pocket cost would be about $8,000.
I tallied my savings—$5,000.
My monthly salary was decent, but after rent and expenses, I could only bank four or five hundred a month. Two years of diligent saving had yielded less than five thousand.
I was $3,000 short.
I called Jake again.
“Jake, Dad needs surgery. Can you pay back just a partial amount? Three thousand would be enough to cover the rest of the bill.”
He was silent for a long moment.
“Riley, I truly don’t have it.” He sighed, sounding put upon. “You know how bad business has been. Can’t you figure out something else?”
I said, “Jake, I loaned you forty thousand dollars.”
“I know I owe you!” His voice grew impatient. “But what do you want me to do? You make a good salary—forty grand is just two years of work for you. I needed that money to save my business!”
My hand, clutching the phone, was shaking.
“Jake, you promised me three months.”
“I told you I don’t have it now!” He suddenly raised his voice. “Why are you so petty? It’s not like I’m never going to pay you back!”
Petty.
The word felt like a physical slap across my face.
I hung up, sat on the edge of my bed, and felt my eyes sting.
Forty thousand. When I gave it to you, you cried on your knees.
Now my dad needs surgery, and you call me petty.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
I opened my phone and went to Jake’s social media.
He had changed his privacy settings to show only six months of posts, but they were still the same generic wellness garbage.
I switched to an old burner account I never used.
I wasn’t connected to him on that one, but some of his posts were public.
And there it was—
October 17, 2024. A photo of a new house key with a festive bow. Caption: Finally have a place of our own.
October 25, 2024. A picture of a new car key, a Honda logo glinting. Caption: First new car. Time to celebrate.
December 2024. Photos of a minimalist-style living room. Caption: The place is slowly coming together.
I stared at the screen, a cold dread washing over me.
He said he couldn’t pay me back. So where did the money for a house and a car come from?
I saved the screenshots, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The next day, I called Jake.
“Jake, I saw your social media.”
“What social media?” His voice was instantly guarded.
“The new house, the new car.” I took a deep breath. “I thought you didn’t have any money.”
He hesitated, then laughed awkwardly. “That was my mother-in-law’s money. What does that have to do with you?”
“What does it have to do with me?”
“Meredith’s mother loves her daughter. She helped us with the down payment and the car. That’s her money. I didn’t use your loan to buy a house.”
I was shaking with anger.
“Jake, you owe me forty thousand dollars.”
“I know I owe you!” He was annoyed now. “But I genuinely don’t have the cash right now. What do you want me to do? Sell the house to pay you back?”
I didn’t answer.
“Riley, you’re in your twenties, how are you this clueless?” He sighed patronizingly. “I’m trying to make things work. Just be patient. When I’m back on my feet, I’ll pay you back.”
Be patient.
I had been patient from 2023 to 2025—two long years.
My dad was in the hospital, and I was $3,000 short of his surgery bill.
And my cousin, living in a new house and driving a new car, told me to be patient.
“Jake.” My voice was surprisingly calm. “I’m not waiting any longer.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m getting my money back.”
The line went silent for a few seconds. Then, he chuckled.
“Riley, how do you plan to do that? Sue me?”
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“If you insist on going through legal channels, go ahead,” he said lightly. “The house isn’t in my name anyway. You won’t get a thing.”
“Who said the house isn’t in your name?”
He froze.
I looked at the photo of the new house key on my screen and gave a small, humorless smile.
“Jake, your caption says, ‘Finally have a place of our own.’” I enunciated every word. “‘Our own,’ not your mother-in-law’s.”
Dead silence.
“I’ll have my lawyer check the deeds,” I said. “You’d better pray that house is truly not in your name.”
I hung up.
2.
The next day, my mom, Patty, called, sounding conflicted.
“Riley, your Aunt Brenda stopped by earlier.”
My stomach dropped. “What did she say?”
“She said Jake is under a lot of pressure, that business is rough, and that you shouldn’t push him so hard.” Mom sighed. “She also said…we’re family, and talking about money just ruins the relationship.”
Talking about money ruins the relationship.
I let out a cold snort.
“Mom, was he worried about ruining the relationship when he begged me for the money?”
“I know, but…” Mom hesitated. “Aunt Brenda also brought up how much they helped us when you were getting into college.”
I was stunned.
“What help?”
“She mentioned…Jake used to tutor you in high school, and that Uncle Gary helped your dad get that job years ago.”
I took a deep breath.
“Mom, you and Dad had to borrow money for my tuition, and it took three years to pay off. Jake tutored me? His math grade was a D, what could he have tutored me in?”
My mom fell silent.
“And Uncle Gary getting Dad a job—that was fifteen years ago! Dad quit after a month because the pay was barely minimum wage.” My voice shook slightly. “Mom, Aunt Brenda is just using moral blackmail.”
“I know, I just…” Mom sighed again. “I worry about you causing a family rift over this.”
“Mom, forty thousand dollars.” I gripped the phone. “I want to preserve our family ties, but what do they think I am?”
Mom was quiet for a long time before saying, “Do what you think is best,” and hanging up.
I sat on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Our family was never the rich one among the relatives. My dad was a blue-collar worker, and Mom worked the checkout counter at a grocery store.
Uncle Gary’s family ran a small business and had a lot more disposable income.
I remembered going to their house when I was a kid. Jake had a pile of expensive toys, and I could only watch.
Aunt Brenda would smile and say, “Riley, just play with them. We’re family.”
But the moment I actually reached for one, she would say, “That one is expensive. Be careful not to break it.”
We’re family.
It was the most convenient phrase.
We were family when he needed the loan; we were family when he didn’t want to pay it back.
But why did the idea of “family” only apply to my need to concede?
I opened my laptop and started gathering the evidence.
The bank transfer record: March 15, 2023. Transfer of $40,000. Memo: Loan.
The text messages: Jake’s promise to repay “in three months.” The timestamps were undeniable.
The IOU: Handwritten, signed, dated, with the amount clearly stated.
The social media screenshots: New house keys, new car keys, renovation photos.
I exported everything, saved it on a flash drive, and printed two copies.
Then, I drove to the law office.
The lawyer was a sharp, thirty-something woman named Ms. Shaw. She had a no-nonsense air about her.
“Ms. Green, your case is very strong,” Ms. Shaw said after reviewing the materials. “The IOU, the transfer record, the texts—you have everything. The chances of winning in court are excellent.”
“I need to know if that house is in his name.”
Ms. Shaw nodded. “I can run a property deed search for you.”
“And if it is?”
“Then we can file a lien against it,” she explained. “After the court judgment, if he refuses to comply, we can petition for a forced sale.”
I took a deep breath.
“One more question,” I said. “What if he tries to transfer the property before the trial?”
Ms. Shaw looked at me knowingly. “Do you suspect he might?”
“He claimed his mother-in-law bought it. I worry he might sign it over to his wife beforehand.”
“Any malicious transfer of assets during the litigation process can be clawed back by the court,” Ms. Shaw stated. “And the act itself only hurts his credibility.”
I nodded.
“Ms. Shaw, I want to file the lawsuit.”
Ms. Shaw looked at me and smiled reassuringly. “Let’s do it.”
Leaving the law office, I sent Jake a text message.
“I’m giving you one last chance. Repay the $40,000 within one week. Otherwise, I’ll see you in court.”
The message showed as Read.
He didn’t reply.
Three days later, Aunt Brenda called.
“Riley, why are you suing your cousin?” Her voice was tearful. “We’re family. Can’t we just sit down and talk about this?”
“Aunt Brenda, I’ve been sitting down and talking about this for two years,” I replied calmly. “Every time, he tells me to ‘be patient.’ Now, a whole year later, I haven’t seen one cent.”
“Jake really doesn’t have the…”
“Aunt Brenda,” I cut her off. “His down payment for the house was $75,000. His car was $20,000. That’s $95,000. Are you telling me you truly believe he doesn’t have $40,000 for me?”
Aunt Brenda paused.
“He…that was his mother-in-law’s money.”
“Was it?” I retorted coldly. “Do you even know whose name the house is in, Aunt Brenda?”
She didn’t answer.
“Aunt Brenda, I don’t want to escalate this,” I said. “But my dad needs surgery, and I need the money. You were there when I loaned your son $40,000.”
“Riley, listen to me…”
“Aunt Brenda.” I interrupted her again. “I’m only going to ask you one thing. If I had borrowed $40,000 from Jake two years ago, refused to pay it back, bought a house and a car, and told him to ‘be patient,’ what would you do?”
Dead silence on the other end.
“I’ll wait one week,” I said. “If he pays me back in that time, this is over. After that, we go to court.”
I hung up.
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The semi-truck was a runaway missile. One second, I was rushing toward the biggest company launch of the quarter; the next, a screech of tires, an eruption of metal, and the world was just fire and twisted steel.
It was my best friend, Dustin “Dust” Rhodes, who dragged me from the wreckage. He didn’t make it out unscathed; a shard of shrapnel from the explosion caught him.
Lying in the trauma bay, barely conscious, I watched him, bandaged and pale, call my fiancée, Seraphina “Sera” Lowell.
Her reply was casual, dismissive: “Alex, darling, Owen’s new game is in beta testing today. I’m running diagnostics for him. Nothing important. Gotta go!”
Dust lost it, hanging up and immediately calling his own girlfriend, Jillian “Jill” Maxwell, to beg for help finding a specialist.
“Seriously, Dust? Don’t be dramatic. Owen’s project is huge. I’m crunching his data right now!”
When I finally clawed my way back from the edge of the abyss, my eyes met Dust’s across the sterile white of the hospital room. My voice was a rasp, but the words were solid: “I want to call off the engagement.”
Dust didn’t hesitate. “You cancel, I cancel.”
The panic that caused in those two women was exactly what we expected.
1
Dustin was a man of immediate action.
After confirming the cold, hard facts—which, frankly, involved little more than a replay of the call logs—he sent Jillian a succinct text: We’re done.
I was still immobilized, confined to the bed.
The doctors had finished a grueling debridement, but a few pieces of glass were lodged deep, dangerously close to vital organs. They hadn’t pulled me out of the danger zone yet. The monitoring machine beside me provided the rhythmic, unnerving soundtrack to my private war with death.
Only Dust was with me. He was patched up, too—bandages on his arm and a gash across his forehead, battle scars he earned saving my life. We were two soldiers on a retreat, one sitting, one prone, quietly licking our wounds.
“Tomorrow was the rehearsal dinner,” Dust observed, his voice flat as he glanced at the wall calendar.
My throat felt raw and burned from the smoke and fumes. I could only manage a quiet nod. The real engagement party? Clearly not happening.
Just then, my phone broke the heavy silence. Dust picked it up from the nightstand. His face immediately darkened. “It’s Sera.”
I gestured for him to answer and put it on speaker.
“Alex Montgomery!” Sera’s voice was sharp, a high-pitched spike of accusation, not concern. “What on earth is going on with you? The rehearsal dinner is in an hour! Why aren’t you here?”
I coughed twice, trying to clear my throat. “I’m in the hospital… I can’t make it. I told you yesterday.”
“Oh, that’s rich!” Her tone was filled with the kind of impatience one reserves for a spoiled child. “Just because I went with Owen Keller for a doctor’s visit yesterday, you’re pulling this petty stunt? Do you have any idea how many high-profile guests are confirmed?”
“I am genuinely in the hospital,” my voice was thin, but steady. “St. Jude’s Medical Center. Intensive Care Unit.”
“Fine. If you’re going to be like that, I’ll drive over and pick you up myself,” she threatened. “You’d better be there, or you’ll regret it.”
“I am here.”
“Alex!” Her volume ratcheted up again. “If you stand me up, you are facing consequences. The party starts in an hour, and I won’t wait!”
Dust couldn’t take it anymore. He snatched the phone. “Are you deaf, Sera? He said hospital! He said ICU!”
His voice was a furious roar. “You two self-obsessed witches! Owen had a damn stomach flu and you were glued to his side. Alex almost died in a fire trap and you couldn’t be bothered to make a single follow-up call!”
Before he could finish his tirade, the line went dead. She’d hung up.
Dust was shaking, his face pale with rage. He paced the small perimeter of the room like a caged lion.
Then, his own phone rang. He glanced at the screen, a cold smirk twisting his lips. He answered, putting it on speaker without a word.
“Dustin, where are you?” Jill’s voice echoed in the room. “It’s the day I’m meeting my parents! I sent you the location! Are you intentionally missing this?”
Dust’s eyes turned to ice. “Meeting your parents? Jill, I told you last night. We are broken up. An ex is supposed to drop off the face of the earth. Vanish. You should be six feet under in my world.”
He paused, letting the silence hang heavy. “You want me to meet your parents? I think I should be buying flowers for your funeral instead.”
Jill was clearly stung. Her voice trembled. “Du-Dustin! You will regret this! Fine. You want to break up? We’re through!”
Dust ended the call without another word and efficiently blocked her number and all social media profiles. Done.
He exhaled, patting his own chest. He turned to me. “My side is settled. We’ll deal with yours when you’re stronger. Don’t let those sociopaths give you a heart attack.”
I looked at him and managed a weak, grateful smile.
2
My forced absence, predictably, caused Seraphina a tremendous loss of face.
She called several times. I ignored the first two.
The third time, I just silenced the phone.
The texts she sent went unread, treated like a relic of a dead past.
The final one flashed on the screen: Alex, this is completely irresponsible!
I stared at the words but didn’t reply. The planning and execution of today’s engagement party had been entirely under the command of the Lowell family. My input was never valued. I was just a functional prop in her carefully scripted life.
My own parents divorced when I was twelve and both remarried. Though their lives centered elsewhere, they’d never neglected basic care or financial support. When they heard about the crash, they instantly canceled their travel plans and were flying back.
And Sera?
She hadn’t bothered to ask about my injuries. She’d ignored my clear decision to cancel the engagement. Since she chose not to believe me, why should I debase myself by explaining?
The audacity of her next move still blindsided me: she found a stand-in to complete the ceremony.
In the afternoon, during my dressing change, two young nurses were gossiping. Their conversation drifted into my sterile bubble.
“Did you hear? Sera Lowell got engaged today. Her fiancé is gorgeous! So talented, too.”
“Right? She’s so lucky. Look, they took a selfie. They look so perfect together!”
I couldn’t help but lift my head to see the photo on the nurse’s phone.
In the picture, Sera was standing beside Owen Keller, her head nestled casually on his shoulder. Her smile was blinding, radiant. They did look like a perfect match. A foregone conclusion.
My eyes suddenly stung—not from the antiseptic, but from a sharp, acidic ache deep in my chest.
“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” The nurse changing my bandage asked with immediate concern. “I’ll be gentler.”
“It hurts a little,” I replied softly. My eyes were suddenly damp. “But I can handle it.”
Dust reached over and squeezed my wrist, a silent pledge of support.
I shook my head at him. “It’s fine. This pain is nothing.”
In truth, it hurt like hell, but compared to the searing humiliation of Sera’s public betrayal, the physical pain was merely a dull backdrop.
When we were alone, Dust tried to comfort me. “They’re both sociopathic trash, Alex. They don’t deserve your grief.”
“Oh, guess what,” he suddenly changed the subject. “That crazy Jill just messaged me. She made a pot of fish chowder! Said she made it especially for me!”
“I’m allergic to fish, a potentially lethal allergy, which I’ve told her at least twenty times! We’re broken up, is she completely unhinged?”
I couldn’t help a small laugh. “She’s not unhinged, Dust. She just never bothered to care about you. If it were Owen, she’d remember every single detail.”
Dust was silent for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. Forget them. Let’s find something else.”
He grabbed his tablet and pulled up a streaming platform. “There’s this viral food blogger who makes people try weird specialty desserts. Their reactions are hilarious.”
He expertly navigated to the blogger’s live feed. A familiar face appeared on the screen: Jill Maxwell.
“Ma’am, please try this bespoke confection. You get to say one thing to the camera when you finish,” the host grinned.
Jill took a bite. Her face instantly twisted in disgust, but she forced a sickeningly sweet smile. “I hope the next person gets the cherry blossom flavor, especially you, Owen! I’m rooting for you always!”
She blew a heart kiss to the camera. I was about to swipe away, but Dust stopped me.
He furiously typed into the comment section: You remember Owen Keller’s favorite Cherry Blossom flavor, but you always forget your boyfriend is deathly allergic to fish!
The comment was immediately swallowed by the flood of other messages. I patted Dust’s shoulder. “Our lives are better without them in it.”
He agreed, but the streamer’s viewers had already recognized Jill.
“Isn’t that the Maxwell heiress? No way, seeing her here!”
“That guy she’s rooting for is so lucky!”
“My Lady, your loyal servant has been waiting. How may I be of service?”
The digital commotion made Jill an instant viral sensation.
Soon after, Owen posted a picture on his social media: Cherry blossom dessert received. Happiness is manifesting your dreams.
The photo showed a plate of the elegant pink dessert, and sitting across the table, beaming at the camera, was Jill.
Dust snorted with contempt. “Look at that pathetic lapdog.”
I had to laugh out loud. Dust was right. They were both pathetic, orbiting around Owen, never considering who the real winner was.
Maybe no one.
3
Seraphina and Owen’s makeshift engagement ceremony should have marked the end of my relationship.
Once I was discharged, I planned to meticulously return everything she had ever given me. She’d bought me several expensive items during our time, but I wasn’t the type to hold onto a single thing. A clean, clinical end was always my preference.
Forty-eight hours later, my condition stabilized, and I was moved to a standard room.
The attending physician came in for his rounds, looking over my chart and shaking his head.
“Mr. Montgomery, you are one lucky man,” he said, looking at the X-rays. “That piece of glass was less than an inch from your heart. Any deeper, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
He closed the file, his expression serious. “Going forward, you need extreme emotional control. No excitement, no profound sadness. Focus on rest.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” I nodded.
The doctor had barely left when my phone rang. It was Sera’s office line. I’d forgotten to block that one. After a moment of hesitation, I answered.
“You saw the photos online, I assume?” Sera’s voice came through the receiver, still devoid of any real concern. “If Owen hadn’t stepped up that day, the ceremony would have been a disaster!
“You’ve had your little fit. Time to come home. Stop acting like a child!”
I gave a dry, humorless laugh. “Sera, I am not coming back.”
“What exactly do you want?” Her voice jumped in pitch. “I’ve already explained to my parents that despite your absence, we are honoring the engagement!
“If you continue this nonsense, we are really done!”
I took a deep breath. “Sera, I am lying in a hospital. This made the news. A little basic care would have told you that.”
A cold laugh came from the other end. “You’re just making up a hospital story to retaliate because I accompanied Owen to the doctor, aren’t you?”
“Fine. Tell me, what hospital? What floor? Who is your attending physician?”
I answered calmly. “St. Jude’s, Surgical Ward, Room 24. Come now. My doctor is still on the floor.”
“You wait right there. I’m coming.” She hung up.
Sera was the Design Director at the company. There was no way she didn’t know about one of her top designers being hospitalized. She’d simply been too busy playing wife to Owen to read any internal notices, entirely unaware that I was right under her nose.
Half an hour later, a commotion started in the hallway. Sera had arrived, and Owen was with her.
I leaned back on the pillows, eyes closed, listening to the overly dramatic gasps and cheers outside.
“Oh my God, they really are the perfect couple!”
“Look at them. Are they here to flaunt their happiness? I’m so jealous!”
“Designer Keller is even better looking in person. Director Lowell is so lucky!”
I opened my eyes, a sardonic smile playing on my lips.
These people probably didn’t realize that the “fiancé” was merely a last-minute substitute.
But thinking about it now, I was the redundant one. They had publicly announced their engagement. They were, technically, the legitimate couple now.
Sera gave only the briefest acknowledgments to her colleagues’ compliments, while Owen wore a smug, entitled expression. His voice was loud, laced with a practiced charm.
“Thanks for taking care of Sera. I ordered coffee for the whole floor. It’ll be up soon.”
“Wow, Designer Keller is not only talented but so thoughtful!”
Amidst the chorus of flattery, they appeared in my doorway.
Owen had his arm possessively around Sera’s waist, his eyes full of a childish triumph.
Sera clearly faltered when she saw me actually lying in the bed.
Her eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on the private suite, her brow instantly furrowed.
“Do you know how tight the company’s medical resource budget is? You’re hogging a single room just to make a statement?”
“A statement to you?” I looked up, my eyes filled with cold mockery. “Who are you, Sera, that I would go to this much trouble just to spite you?”
“Alex Montgomery!” she raised her voice.
“I’m right here. No need to shout,” I said calmly. “We are over. He is now your fiancé. Did you come here specifically to assert your dominance?”
“Well then, I wish you both a happy and miserable life together.”
Sera’s face went rigid with fury. “How dare you insult us?
“Apologize! Now!”
I met her stare. “Apologize? Not a chance.”
Sera was shaking with rage. Owen quickly pulled her back. “Don’t get upset, Sera. Alex is sick. He’s emotional. Don’t pay him any mind.”
“He’s doing this on purpose!” Sera glared at me. “Who is your attending physician? He’s clearly complicit in this elaborate act!”
I looked at her coolly. “Sera, have you had enough? You’re not my doctor, so why all the questions?”
“I have agreed to break up with you. Why can’t you leave me alone? Dating two men at once—doesn’t that make you sick?”
Sera suddenly lifted her hand to strike my face.
I was ready. I leaned to the side, dodging the blow, and at the same time pressed the call button on the bedside unit. As she recoiled in shock, I lifted my hand and delivered a sharp, open-handed slap across her face.
The crisp crack echoed through the room.
Owen stood wide-eyed, then rushed to Sera’s side, tenderly touching her cheek. “How could you do that? Sera came here out of concern for you, and you hit her!”
“She threw the first punch,” I said, shaking my hand and staring at them. “I didn’t invite either of you.”
Sera’s lip trembled. The red imprint of my fingers was clear on her pale skin.
“Sera, are we clear now?” I pointed to the door. “Get out. I don’t want to see you again.”
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