Category: English

Scrolling through Ins, I found a post: “From Mind-Blowing to Trash, Rating the Men I Slept With This Year.” Thinking of that cold, distant man at home, I clicked on the post with curiosity. “Pure college boy, a bit clumsy, I’ll give him a passing grade” “Athletic black guy, oh wow, that was wild, definitely top-tier” The comment section exploded. “Now THIS is the kind of girl boss content I need” “Living your best life, let me live it for a couple days too.” I was about to leave a playful comment when the woman’s latest update made me freeze. “Last one. My best bed partner, also the one who gave me my sexual awakening. Even though he’s married, I’m giving him a straight-up ‘mind-blowing.’” The photo showed them lying together in bed. And the sleeping man in that photo was my husband. I stared at the screen in disbelief, but the comments that refreshed below made my blood run even colder. “Isn’t that knowingly being the other woman? That’s not cool.” “So what? Haven’t you heard that the one who isn’t loved is the real mistress? Besides, I had his first time.” “A man sleeping with two women at the same time… how good can he even be?” “That’s not true at all. He promised he’d only have sex with me, that he’d never waste it on that old hag at home.” Indeed, in our year of marriage, Xander Thorne was either working overtime or on business trips. The times he actually came home could be counted on one hand. Even on our wedding night, what should have happened didn’t-he used being drunk as an excuse and just fell asleep. I’d questioned myself countless times. Was I just too unattractive? Was that why Xander wouldn’t touch me? But before we got married, his love for me had been so passionate and intense. He’d hold me in bed, his voice hoarse. “Nora, I want to be with you so badly.” “Once we’re married, I can truly have you.” Remembering that past sweetness, I smiled bitterly. Now I finally understood. It wasn’t that I’d done anything wrong. It was that Xander had already found his bed partner. His only bed partner. The next second, Xander pushed the door open and pulled me into his arms. “Happy New Year. What are you looking at?” I quickly put down my phone and turned to meet his eyes. “Nothing, just browsing.” As I spoke, I thought of the words “mind-blowing” from the post and tentatively kissed his lips. The man froze for a moment, then chuckled softly, cupping my head and deepening the kiss. His heavy breathing hit my face. As things heated up, we unconsciously began pulling at each other’s clothes. He pushed me down onto the bed, and just when we were one step away, he stopped. His previously hazy eyes instantly cleared. Xander pushed me away, buttoning his shirt as if nothing had happened, his voice hoarse. “Alright, go help in the kitchen. It’s almost time for dinner.” Of course. It was like this again. I numbly got up and walked into the kitchen, laughing at myself. When my mother-in-law saw me, she immediately vented her dissatisfaction. “Nora, now that you’ve married into the Thorne family, you need to think about our family, don’t you?” “Look at your belly. It’s been a whole year, and still nothing.” “I’m not trying to push you. But you and Xander should have a baby while you’re young. It’ll be easier for you both when the child grows up.” Mrs. Thorne rambled on and on while my grievances surged up. Before marriage, I’d promised her we’d have two children in three years. But what happened? We could count on one hand the nights we’d even shared a bed. Thinking of how Xander had just walked away, my heart grew even heavier. Seeing my silence, Mrs. Thorne lost what little patience she’d had and stormed off. “People like you just have no manners. I must have lost my mind to let someone like you marry into the Thorne family.” I stared numbly at the mess before me and mechanically began cleaning up. Mrs. Thorne was right. Xander and I were from two different worlds. Without his love, I had nothing. I could never reach the heights of the Thorne family. Crack. Lost in thought, I cut my finger with the knife, leaving a streak of bright red. I immediately rinsed it under water, intending to go outside for a bandage. The noise outside gradually grew louder as the neighbor’s daughter arrived with gifts, smiling brightly. “Mrs. Thorne, Xander, Happy New Year! I brought gifts and came to join you for dinner.” I looked up and saw that familiar face. My heart lurched. She was the woman from the photo.

Mrs. Thorne chatted cheerfully with Jocelyn Lane about everyday matters, grinning ear to ear at the jewelry she’d brought. “Oh my, our Jocelyn is so thoughtful. I had my eye on this ruby necklace set just last month.” Xander sat nearby, bringing a peeled shrimp to Jocelyn’s lips. The woman took his finger into her mouth with a lingering gaze, then slowly swallowed the shrimp. Xander treated it as routine, his movements practiced, as if he’d done it a thousand times. Only when I sat beside him did he belatedly react. “Nora, let me introduce you. This is Jocelyn Lane, my childhood friend.” “Taking care of her has become a habit. Don’t mind it.” As he spoke, he peeled a shrimp apologetically and placed it in my plate. I forced a smile. He seemed to have forgotten that I’m allergic to shrimp. Mrs. Thorne saw this and began her passive-aggressive commentary. “Married a hen that won’t lay eggs. No real ability, but quite the temper. Should’ve married Jocelyn instead.” Xander remained silent, seemingly accepting her words. “Now, Mrs. Thorne, don’t say that. Xander and Nora are so in love. Having a baby is just a matter of time.” Jocelyn fanned the flames from the side, deliberately emphasizing “in love,” as if challenging me. My hand trembled, accidentally knocking my fork to the floor. As I bent down to pick them up, I glanced up and saw Jocelyn’s feet intimately resting between Xander’s legs in a suggestive position. Even though I already knew the truth, seeing this scene still felt like a knife twisting in my heart. I looked at Xander. The man’s earlobes were already flushed red… After dinner, Xander settled me in the room and volunteered to wash the dishes. I picked up my phone and, like a masochist, opened the post I’d been viewing earlier. Jocelyn had posted an update. “Came to Xander’s house for dinner, washing dishes together.” “These are the hands that made me feel absolutely incredible in bed.” Jocelyn had posted a picture of Xander washing dishes. Those hands were long and strong, with our diamond ring still on his ring finger. The hand fetishists in the comments went wild. “Beautiful fingers, I want to lick them.” “Using the ring, does that feel amazing?” Jocelyn quickly replied to that comment. “Good taste. Not just the ring, but lots of other toys too…” I suddenly felt dizzy, wanting to throw up. Once, I’d deliberately bought sexy lingerie and even used various props, hoping he’d show some interest. But that night, he’d looked at me coldly and thrown the blanket over me. “Sorry, Nora, I’m a rather traditional person.” “This… you’re being too slutty. I can’t accept it.” Those cold words still echoed in my ears. I’d thought I was too improper, consumed only by lust. Now I knew that Xander wasn’t without desire. He just directed all his desire toward another woman. Tears filled my eyes. Xander pushed the door open and, seeing me cry, held me with apparent concern. “Nora, I’m sorry. I let you down.” “The baby situation, that’s on me. I promise, just let me prepare a bit more.” “Next year, we’ll definitely have a child.” Seeing my silence, he handed me a glass of warm milk as usual. Whenever we fought before, he’d give me warm milk as a peace offering. He was confident I’d forgive him, so he turned and left. In fact, I’d always chosen to forgive him before. But today, I poured that entire glass of milk down the drain. Just like my past feelings, this time I was cutting everything off completely.

Late at night, Jocelyn tiptoed into my room and threw herself into Xander’s arms, acting coy. “Xander, you have no idea how hard I tried to hold myself tonight.” The man’s breathing gradually quickened. The sound of rustling fabric filled my ears. “Stop it, why are you in such a hurry? What if you wake up that old hag?” Xander pulled Jocelyn tightly into his arms and chuckled. “You little troublemaker, worrying about so much.” “Relax, I put double the sleeping pills in that milk. She won’t wake up.” “Besides, haven’t we done this several times before? Still not used to it, hmm?” My heart seized. So the “peace offering” milk I’d thought was simply a tool for their affair. No wonder Xander’s body always bore ambiguous marks. I’d assumed I’d left them while I was asleep. The sounds beside me grew louder. The two quickly began kissing. “Xander, you’re being naughty.” “I saw today that Nora’s lips were quite swollen. Did you secretly do it with her?” Xander didn’t answer, only thrust harder. He proved with his body whether or not he’d done anything with me. Under Xander’s vigorous movements, Jocelyn quickly cried out, and then they climaxed together. “Xander, what if that old hag keeps pestering you for a baby?” “You wouldn’t betray me someday, would you?” The man fell silent for a long time. Just when I thought he’d fallen asleep, he suddenly answered. “Then… we’ll blindfold her and swap in someone else.” “When the time comes, I’ll treat his child as my own. Consider it… compensation for her.” Hearing Xander’s words, I bit my jaw hard to keep from making a sound. So in his heart, there was only Jocelyn. He’d even rather have his wife under another man than give up serving Jocelyn with single-minded devotion. I dug my nails into my arm, refusing to let tears fall. “Xander, actually, I’m pregnant.” Jocelyn’s words struck like thunder in my heart. Xander immediately stiffened, his voice trembling. “Then what we just did…” “It’s fine, I’m already three months along. I checked-after three months it’s safe.” Ha. Three months. Three months ago, the only time Xander had the opportunity to cheat was on our wedding anniversary. I was lying in bed, my period making me collapse in pain. Xander heated me a glass of milk and kept warming my belly with his hands. That night, I slept deeply, peacefully, happily. But apparently, I wasn’t the only one who was happy. The sun slowly rose, and Jocelyn finally left the room. Xander gently kissed my forehead, then held me and fell peacefully asleep. A single tear slid down my cheek.

The next day, Jocelyn greeted me with a radiant face after getting up. Her expression showed the bliss of being thoroughly satisfied. I ignored her, silently calculating how to maximize my benefits in a divorce. But Jocelyn blocked my path directly, pouring herself a full glass of wine. “Sister-in-law, I forgot to toast you yesterday. Today, I’ll toast you.” She was about to drink it in one gulp. I stood coldly to the side, wanting to see what kind of drama she’d create. Sure enough, the next second, Xander snatched the glass from her hand. “Jocelyn, what are you doing!” Jocelyn remained unharmed, but the wine splashed all over my face. Her eyes reddened as she buried herself in Xander’s arms with a trembling voice. “Xander, Nora said… said I was dressing like this to seduce you, and that I was disrespecting her, that I should have toasted her yesterday…” The woman’s body was soft. Her words made Xander’s bones go weak. “Nora, am I giving you too much face?” “You married into the Thorne family and actually think you’re something? You even dare to scold Jocelyn?” “Let me tell you, Jocelyn will always be my sister, but you?” “Without me, you’re nothing.” I looked at the furious man before me, my heart filled with sorrow. Yes, from childhood, I’d received financial support from the Thorne family. My father cheated and drank, saw me as a money pit, wanted to marry me off quickly for bride price money. So from an early age, I’d longed for a happy family, wanted to have my own child, build my own home. Through excellent academic performance, I was selected by the Thorne family to become their sponsored student. After years of hard study, I finally escaped my original family and became independent. That’s when Xander confessed his feelings to me. He pursued me for five years, using his patience to tell me bit by bit that he’d take good care of me, build a happy family with me. He also swore he’d always love me, that our children would be extremely happy. Now it seemed like such a desolate, ridiculous scam. He used minimal warmth to weave lies called happiness. And personally stripped away my freedom to have children. “Xander, my stomach hurts so much.” Jocelyn suddenly screamed, clutching her abdomen in pain. Xander immediately picked up Jocelyn and rushed out the door. After a long while, Xander called me. “Bring your marriage certificate and come to the hospital immediately.”

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On our wedding anniversary, what I received wasn’t a gift. It was a settlement agreement thrust at me by Peyton. “Sign it, and I’ll release your brother.” My eyes reddened as I asked him, “Peyton, my mother had six organs harvested by your mistress, and you want me to forgive her?!” He handed me a photo without expression. My brother was bound to a chair, covered in wounds, with someone holding a knife to his throat. Peyton asked coldly, “Will you sign or not?” Through tears, I signed my name, then turned and dialed another number. “Felix, that condition you offered back then… does it still stand?” Later, Peyton knelt in the rain begging me to come back. He didn’t know- I was already carrying someone else’s child. Jenna Frost POV On our third wedding anniversary, what I received from Peyton wasn’t a gift, but a settlement agreement. “Sign this, and I’ll have your brother released.” I looked at the man’s sharply defined face through the cigarette smoke, feeling for the first time like I couldn’t see him clearly. “Peyton, my mother is dead. You want me to let Carmen go?” Peyton took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly. “Jenna, she’s a professional medical assessor. It was her job, not intentional.” “Not intentional?” I shot to my feet, speaking through clenched teeth. “Six. Six whole organs! Peyton, you’re actually saying she removed six organs from my mother, ultimately causing her death, and it wasn’t intentional?” Thinking of my mother’s pallid face before her death, waves of pain crashed through my heart. It had been simple gastritis, but Carmen insisted she was in mortal danger and needed emergency surgery. My brother Wade was so frightened and confused that he signed form after form. But in the end, what we received was a death notice. My mother had died after having six organs removed. Later, Wade found out that Carmen had no surgical skills and had only wanted to experience holding a scalpel. Enraged, he stormed into her office. But the next second, Peyton’s men grabbed him. I immediately took Carmen to court. But I never imagined Peyton would show up with a settlement agreement for me to sign. “What if I don’t sign?” I reached out and tore the agreement before me into shreds. Peyton said nothing, only threw a stack of photos in front of me. “Don’t be rash. Look first, then decide.” The moment I saw the photos, my pupils trembled. In the pictures, my brother was bound to a chair, his head lolling to one side, his body covered in bruises, with electric shock devices placed nearby. “You…” I choked up instantly, unable to hold back my shout. “Peyton, you bastard! That’s my brother!” Peyton stood and walked over to me, bending down to pick up the torn settlement agreement, tapping his fingers on it twice. “Before court tomorrow, I need to see a signed agreement. I’m sorry, but Carmen can’t go to prison. This is the only way.” “What about my mother? She just deserves to die at Carmen’s hands?!” I gripped the table, my veins bulging in anger. But Peyton pressed me back down into the chair, his hands braced on either side of my armrests, his voice low. “Your mother is already dead, but your brother is still alive. Jenna, think it through carefully.” “Being alive is always more meaningful than being dead, isn’t it?” I took a deep breath. The scent of cedar mixed with tobacco flooded my nostrils. This fragrance that once made me feel so secure now made me feel sick. “Sign the papers, and Wade comes home tonight. Don’t sign…” Peyton’s fingertips gently traced my earlobe, the gesture intimate, but his voice ghostly. “Next time, it won’t be photos I send.” With that, he pulled out a fountain pen, methodically unscrewed the cap, and handed it to me. His long, clean fingers rested on the pen’s end-these hands had once caressed my face with such tenderness countless times. But now, the moment I touched his fingertips, I felt only endless cold spreading through my entire body. I signed my name stroke by stroke, each one feeling like cutting into my own flesh. Peyton collected the agreement with satisfaction, then turned and glanced at me. “Tomorrow when the reporters ask, you know what to say.” Even after the door closed, I remained in the position of holding the pen, though tears dripped onto the table without making a sound. The phone rang abruptly, and only then did I hazily come back to myself and answer. “You called me? Sorry, I was in a meeting.” A slightly cold voice came through. Only then did I realize I’d accidentally touched the screen. I was about to hang up, but as the words formed, I suddenly had another idea. “That condition from before… does it still stand?” I gripped the phone tightly, my breathing quickening with the silence on the other end. Finally, when I heard him respond with a simple “Mm,” I let out a breath of relief. “Good. A phone call isn’t convenient. Let’s meet in person.” The second the call ended, Peyton sent me a message reminding me to attend court on time tomorrow. I pulled at my lips, tossed aside my phone, and left.

Jenna Frost POV The next day in court. I stood in the witness box, reading the script Peyton had prepared for me. “I admit, there was a misunderstanding in my previous accusations against Dr. Carmen. My mother’s physical condition was complex, and the surgery itself carried extremely high risks…” I held back the burning in my eyes. Each word felt like biting my own tongue. Carmen was released in court. Outside the courthouse, I watched the reporters surge forward, and tears immediately welled up. I sobbed in front of the cameras. “I just wanted to save lives. I never imagined I’d be so misunderstood. It’s all my fault. I’ve already decided to resign.” At these words, all the microphones turned toward me. “Miss Frost, why would you falsely accuse a dedicated doctor trying to save lives?” “Because of your false accusations, the already tense doctor-patient relationship has gotten even worse. Don’t you feel any guilt?” The interrogating voices drowned me like a tide. I opened my mouth to say something, but was hit in the face by an egg thrown from somewhere in the crowd, forcing me to close my mouth. The sticky egg white sealed my eyelashes. Then water bottles, rotten vegetables, even fists-all came raining down on me like hail. I instinctively looked toward Peyton, but only saw him carefully shielding Carmen in his arms as he led her away. I instantly lost all strength, letting myself lose consciousness amid the barrage of punches and kicks. When I woke again, I was in a hospital room reeking of disinfectant. I moved slightly. My entire body hurt like it might fall apart. My forehead had been stitched up, and my vision was blurred. A familiar figure stood by the bed, his voice devoid of warmth. “You’re awake? Should I get a doctor?” I had no strength. I shook my head slightly. Peyton looked at me, hesitated for a moment, then continued. “I’ll handle the reporters. I’m sorry, I didn’t expect this to happen.” I closed my eyes, not wanting to see him. He paused, reaching out as if to touch my bandaged forehead. But I instinctively turned my head away. Finally, he tucked in my blanket, his voice lowering. “Carmen is timid. She was frightened this time. Don’t… hold it against her.” I snapped my eyes open and stared hard at him. He used my brother’s life to force me to settle, trampled my dignity and my mother’s life to protect another woman, and now he was telling me not to hold it against her? My heart felt like it had been violently torn open, with cold wind rushing endlessly inside. I suddenly felt it was all so meaningless. After much deliberation, I slowly lowered my gaze and finally said those words. “Peyton, let’s divorce.” At this, Peyton’s hand paused as he poured water, his eyes complex as he looked at me on the bed. I closed my eyes, not wanting him to see the tears in them. “Throwing a tantrum again? Jenna, I thought after yesterday, you would’ve learned.” For the first time, I felt I’d never truly known Peyton. The Peyton of the past would fly back from abroad just because I’d cut my finger. But now, when I was physically and mentally exhausted, he only said I was “throwing a tantrum.” I swallowed the sob in my throat. “Fine. I won’t mention divorce.” Peyton’s expression eased slightly, and I continued. “But I want to see Wade. At least let me know he’s safe.” “You can, but not now.” He stood and adjusted his cuffs. “Once this matter completely blows over and the media stops targeting Carmen, I’ll naturally let you see him.” “Oh, and Carmen was frightened. I’m not comfortable with her living alone, so starting today, she’ll be moving into the villa.” “No! I…” I refused, but before I could finish, Peyton cut me off. “I’m just informing you. If you dare leave, don’t blame me for breaking your brother’s legs!” With that, he turned and left the hospital room without looking back. I lay powerlessly on the cold hospital bed, sudden sharp pain radiating from my forehead. I couldn’t hold back anymore and curled up, sobbing. For the first time, I regretted saving him years ago.

Jenna Frost POV Eight years ago, when I accompanied my father on a business trip, I encountered Peyton on the street, barely clinging to life. I didn’t want to get involved, but Peyton grabbed my foot desperately. He was filthy and disheveled, but his eyes shone with startling brightness. I was moved by his will to survive and begged my father to save him. When he woke, I stood by his hospital bed and asked. “Will you be my bodyguard and protect me for life?” “I will.” Peyton answered without hesitation. From then on, wherever I was, Peyton would be there. Over eight years, he took two bullets for me, broke three ribs, fractured part of his skull, and nearly died several times. Everyone said I was the person on Peyton’s heart-touch her and die. From that moment on, I gave him everything I had, including my family’s company. Until Carmen appeared, and Peyton became like a different person. He forgot his promises and became Carmen’s protector. Whatever Carmen wanted, Peyton would provide. I told myself again and again that he was just after novelty, and once the novelty wore off, he’d come back. But only now did I understand-there was never any such thing as novelty. He simply didn’t love me anymore. Since Peyton’s heart had changed, I didn’t want this version of him either. Three days later, I was discharged and went home. Most traces of me in the living room had been erased. My usual books were replaced with manga, my favorite aromatherapy scent was changed, my beloved flowers swapped for red roses. Even my bedroom decor had been changed to the pink Carmen preferred. When Peyton came through the door pulling Carmen by the hand, carrying shopping bags, their interlaced fingers stabbed at my eyes. “Jenna, don’t misunderstand.” Sensing my gaze, Carmen hastily pulled her hand free. “It’s not what you think. Peyton said my body hasn’t recovered yet and I need quiet rest, so he insisted I stay in this sunny room.” She approached, trying to take my hand, but I stepped aside to avoid her. Carmen’s hand froze in mid-air, her expression even more pitiable. “Jenna, are you still angry at me about your mother? I’m sorry. I thought missing a few organs wouldn’t matter.” Watching her pretense and thinking of my mother’s tragic state, I couldn’t help wanting to kill her. “Get away from me!” I growled. At this, Carmen’s legs gave way and she actually knelt before me. “Jenna, why don’t you hit me? As long as it makes you feel better, even if you beat me to death, I’m willing.” Without hesitation, I stepped forward and slapped her face askew. “You think I wouldn’t dare?” The words had barely left my mouth when Peyton grabbed my hand before I could pull it back, the pain making me gasp. “Jenna Frost!” He called me by my full name, his voice cold as ice. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble? Do I need to lock you up too before you learn to behave?” Carmen stood behind him, covering her face and sobbing softly. “Peyton, don’t blame Jenna…” Peyton said coldly, “Carmen, hit her back!” Carmen didn’t react immediately, frozen in place covering her face, timidly shaking her head. “Peyton, it’s not necessary. I’m really fine…” “I said hit her back!” Peyton stared at me and repeated. “No one gets to hit my people without consequences.” He gripped my wrist tightly, ignoring the shock in my eyes. Encouraged by his gaze, Carmen raised her hand and slapped me back. “Again!” I didn’t expect Peyton to say this. A gleam of delight flashed in Carmen’s eyes as she gave me over a dozen slaps in succession. My face swelled instantly red, my mouth filling with the taste of blood. Peyton released my hand, turned to take Carmen’s hand and blew gently on it. “Now we’re even. Remember, don’t let there be a next time.” I stood there, the burning pain on my face not even one ten-thousandth of what I felt in my heart. My heart finally died in that moment.

Jenna Frost POV After they left, I went upstairs alone. The cold room caused me to develop a high fever that very night. When Peyton entered with a medical kit, I was curled up in bed, trembling continuously. Peyton reached out to touch my forehead-it was burning hot. “Get the car!” His brows furrowed sharply as he immediately lifted me in his arms and shouted downstairs. On the way to the hospital, I leaned against him in a daze, my consciousness blurred. I didn’t know if it was my imagination, but I thought I saw a trace of unfamiliar panic on Peyton’s face. Looking at his expression, I suddenly remembered our wedding day. When my father placed my hand in Peyton’s and lifted my veil, the usually calm Peyton was suddenly so nervous he couldn’t speak, his eyes as flustered as they were now. Back then he looked so young, always earnestly taking care of everything for me, never letting me suffer the slightest grievance. But now, I hadn’t seen him look this way in so long. For a brief moment, I thought it would be nice if time could just stop at this moment. Unfortunately, it was all just my fantasy. Carmen’s call came when Peyton was in the hospital corridor. “The house is so dark. I’m scared. Can you come keep me company?” “Carmen, Jenna has a fever. I…” “I’m wearing that outfit you like today. Don’t you want to see?” Carmen interrupted him, her voice coquettish. Peyton’s footsteps stopped. He glanced at me sleeping in his arms, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Wait for me.” He handed me to a nurse who had rushed over, but as he turned to leave, I grabbed his wrist tightly. “Peyton, please… let me see Wade, just once… please.” After a few seconds of silence, Peyton softened his tone. “Tomorrow. I’ll take you to see him tomorrow.” Only then did my fingers go limp and release him, letting myself pass out with relief as the nurse wheeled me into the hospital room. Peyton stood in place for a moment, then turned and left quickly. Early morning. Fireworks suddenly burst into bloom outside the window, illuminating the dark night. I was startled awake and instinctively grabbed my phone. The screen lit up-the first item was a post Carmen had just made. In the photo, Carmen held a snow-white dog, smiling with crescent eyes. Peyton stood beside her, tall and upright, looking exactly like a loving couple. The caption read: “Thank you to someone for watching fireworks with me. Even the little one got a birthday present!” My gaze fixed on the dog’s neck. Around it was tied a dark blue knitted scarf, with fine stitching, but it had been crudely cut short and fashioned into a dog collar. I suddenly remembered that three years ago, I’d stayed up for three nights to knit Peyton a scarf. When Peyton saw the dense needle marks on my hands, he flew back from abroad that very night and stood in the snow, kissing my fingertips with heartache. “Frost, I don’t want you to suffer even the slightest harm because of me. It hurts my heart.” Those words still echoed in my ears, but now-how ironic. All my harm came from him. Even that scarf I’d made had now been given to Carmen’s dog. Fireworks continued exploding outside the window. I turned off my phone and lay down, letting tears continuously soak the pillow. Peyton, this is the last time I’ll cry for you.

Jenna Frost POV I don’t know when I fell asleep. When I woke, Peyton was leaning against the hospital room door, his eyes gazing out the window. “Get up when you’re awake.” His tone was still cold. I frowned, collected myself, got out of bed, and followed in his footsteps. I don’t like car air fresheners-they make me carsick. In the past, before I got in the car, Peyton would always have someone remove all the interior accessories to ensure the car was completely scent-free. But now, this familiar Bentley was filled with a sickeningly sweet fragrance. Even the cross I’d sought from afar for him had been replaced with cartoon toys. Everything in the car had been replaced, including me. I couldn’t hold back-my nose stung. I quickly turned my head, directing my gaze out the window so Peyton wouldn’t notice. The car entered a private villa courtyard. Before it had fully stopped, I heard piercing screams from inside. “Let go of me! You psycho! Help!” It was Carmen’s voice. Peyton’s expression changed. He shoved the car door open and rushed inside. I followed close behind. Inside, Wade’s eyes were red as he pinned Carmen to the ground, his hands around her throat. Carmen’s lips were turning purple, her feet kicking wildly. “Wade!” I cried out. Almost simultaneously, Peyton strode forward and kicked Wade hard in the waist. Wade let out a muffled groan and collapsed to the side, unconscious. Carmen immediately threw herself into Peyton’s arms, sobbing hysterically. “He tried to kill me. I was so scared…” Peyton held her, barking orders. “Someone, tie him up and teach him a lesson!” At this, two bodyguards immediately stepped forward, grabbing Wade by the feet to drag him away. “No!” I rushed over trying to stop them, but Peyton grabbed me with one hand. Seeing Wade about to be dragged away, my eyes caught sight of a fruit knife on the table. I broke free from Peyton and grabbed it, pressing it to my own throat. “Let him go!” I gripped the knife tightly, my voice trembling. “Peyton, have your people release him, or today you’ll be collecting my corpse!” “Stop!” He shouted. “Jenna Frost.” Peyton’s voice tightened involuntarily, carrying a trace of panic. “Think carefully. You really want to threaten me with yourself?” I glanced at my unconscious brother, then met Peyton’s gaze. “I’ll say it one more time, Peyton. Let my brother go.” Peyton’s eyes grew increasingly cold. “Jenna Frost, I told you. I hate most when people threaten me using you.” Before I could react, Peyton suddenly stepped forward and kicked, breaking Wade’s leg. Wade’s agonized screams echoed throughout the living room. Cold sweat poured down my body, tears flooding from my eyes. “I’ll say it one more time. Put down that knife. Every second you delay, I’ll break another of his legs. And if you dare die, I’ll make him wish he were dead!” I didn’t dare move. I knew Peyton meant what he said. After a long standoff, I released the knife and fell to my knees, grabbing Peyton’s pant leg in supplication. “Peyton, please, spare my brother. Please.” Only then did Peyton raise his hand, signaling the bodyguards to release their hold. Wade went limp on the floor, temporarily safe. “Jenna, wouldn’t it have been better to do this from the start?” Peyton crouched down, reaching out to grip my chin, forcing me to look up. “I told you, once this period passes, I’ll release him. Why do you insist on opposing me?” “Apologize to Carmen. Now.” I raised my eyes to meet his gaze. Peyton abruptly released my chin and turned away. I looked at my brother’s condition, froze for a moment, then stood and bowed deeply to Carmen. “I’m sorry.”

Jenna Frost POV I kept saying I’m sorry, each repetition louder than the last, but Carmen showed no sign of forgiveness. “Jenna, he nearly strangled me to death. A simple apology won’t cut it.” I looked up. “What do you want?” “How about…” Carmen’s eyes shifted as she brought over a chair and sat in front of me. “How about you kneel and apologize to me? How’s that?” My hands clenched into fists. When I released them, my face showed no more struggle. In my heart, compared to Wade, dignity meant nothing. Just as my knees were about to touch the ground, Peyton suddenly reached out and grabbed my arm. Before either person present could react, Peyton lifted me in his arms and headed upstairs without a word. I didn’t understand what madness had seized him. I struggled continuously, but he threw me onto the bed. His tall figure blocked all the light before my eyes. Peyton pressed down on me without question, roughly tearing at my clothes, his breathing harsh. I fought back with all my strength, my nails scratching bloody marks on his arm. “Peyton! You bastard! Let go of me!” But the more I resisted, the angrier he became, his restraining force growing stronger. He reached out to touch the red mark on my neck, his eyes gradually turning bloodshot. I let out a muffled groan as his sudden bite hurt me, but that sound seemed to act as an aphrodisiac, making Peyton even more heated. His hand moved downward, but as he lifted slightly, I drove my knee hard into him. He instinctively rolled away, but in the next second, saw me running toward the window ledge. “Don’t! Jenna!” Peyton’s roar came from the window, carrying unprecedented panic. When I woke again, I was in the same hospital as before. I moved slightly. Intense pain immediately shot through my entire body, making me gasp. Peyton kept watch nearby, dark circles under his eyes. Seeing me wake, he immediately grabbed my hand, his voice hoarse. “You’re awake? Are you uncomfortable anywhere?” I closed my eyes, not wanting to see him. Peyton was about to say something when his phone suddenly rang. He glanced at it, his brow furrowing as he stood and left the room to take the call. The next second, Carmen pushed through the door. Looking at my miserable state, she laughed softly. “You didn’t even die falling from the fourth floor. You’re really lucky.” I opened my eyes, looking at her and smiling back. “Carmen, do you know why Peyton won’t divorce me?” Carmen rolled her eyes at me. “Isn’t it because you’re clinging to him like a ghost who won’t let go?” “You’re wrong.” I shook my head. “It’s because as long as he doesn’t divorce me, he gets the forty percent stake I hold. So as long as I’m alive, you’ll never be able to take my position.” “Yesterday he could have let me die, but he still saved me. Why do you think that is?” Carmen frowned, a flash of doubt crossing her eyes. I propped myself up into a sitting position. “Because he owes me his life-I saved him. If I die, he can’t explain it. As long as he doesn’t sign the divorce papers, I’ll forever be his legal wife. And you’re just a mistress.” Carmen’s face gradually turned ashen. Seeing this, I continued dangling the bait. “Help me get the divorce agreement, and I’ll transfer my shares to you. I’ll take my brother and leave forever. With those shares, not only can you marry Peyton immediately, you can become a company director. How about it?” Carmen’s eyes flickered, clearly tempted, but she wasn’t stupid. “Why should I trust you?” “You don’t have to.” I wasn’t anxious at all, closing my eyes. “We’ll just keep dragging this out. You can gamble on whether he’ll give up my shares to marry you first, or lose interest in you and come back to his family first.” Carmen fell silent. “Fine.” Carmen lowered her voice. “I’ll find a way to get my hands on the divorce agreement.” “I hope you keep your promise, or I’ll make you wish you were dead!” I opened my eyes, looking at her extended hand and grasping it. “Happy cooperation.”

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In my senior year of high school, I was brought back home from the countryside. Watching me count on my fingers to do basic arithmetic, while my brother, the same age as me, had already become a study influencer with millions of followers. My parents, both education experts, teared up and hugged me with heartache. “We’re so sorry. We shouldn’t have left you in the countryside. We’ll make it up to you.” For my sake, Mom quit her high-paying job to tutor me every day. Dad started drinking with clients every night just to hire the best tutors for me. My brother Ethan even livestreamed tutoring sessions with me every evening. But on the placement test, I only scored nine out of one hundred fifty on the math exam. Mom stared at that bright red single-digit score and completely broke down. She tore my test paper to shreds, screaming hysterically. “Your father and I both graduated from top universities, and your brother is a genius. How could we possibly have given birth to an idiot like you!” Ethan walked over with a dark expression and activated a new interactive feature on his livestream. “Everyone, from now on, you can submit questions. We’ll display them in real-time.” “Today, she’s not allowed to eat or sleep until she finishes every single problem!” Instantly, thousands of difficult problems flooded the screen like a waterfall, everything from elementary school math competitions to calculus. I was forced to sit at the desk. Looking at that endless sea of problems, I picked up my pen in despair. I thought back to my time in the countryside. My grandparents always praised me as the smartest child in the world. Why did I become a criminal when I came to Mom’s house? Mom, I’m not worthless. Please give me one more chance.

The livestream camera was pointed at my face. Comments scrolled rapidly. “Stop playing dead and do the problems. One problem equals one donation. Keep it up, streamer.” “Her eyes can barely stay open. Is she about to die?” “Shut up! This kind of waste deserves to be punished, or else she won’t appreciate what her parents are doing for her.” My heart felt like it was being squeezed. Each contraction brought a stabbing pain. Mom had told me before that if I didn’t feel well, I should tell her so it wouldn’t affect my study efficiency. I remembered. I used all my strength to squeeze a few words from my throat. “Mom, my chest hurts.” If she’d just let me rest for a moment, even just five minutes, I would definitely solve the next problem. Mom was staring at the livestream data on Ethan’s phone. She didn’t even look up. “Cut the act.” Her voice was cold. “Your brother once had a fever of 104 degrees and still kept working through competition math problems. He didn’t get a single one wrong.” “You’ve only done a few problems and you’re already hurting here and there?” Ethan smirked mockingly. He explained smoothly to the camera. “See this, everyone? This is typical avoidant personality. When faced with difficulty, she tries to gain sympathy by playing weak.” After saying that, he muted all comments. The entire livestream fell silent, leaving only a blood-red banner pinned at the top. “No eating or sleeping until all problems are finished!” The mocking voices around me gradually faded. The whirlpool before my eyes grew larger and larger. I thought of Grandma back in the countryside. She used to fan herself on summer nights and tell me that when people die, their souls become very, very light and can fly up to the sky and become stars. I really wanted to become a star. That way, I could see Grandma. Snap. The sound of my pen tip breaking. Then my throat turned sweet. Warm blood surged out and sprayed onto the blank test paper in front of me. I’m sorry, Mom. Today’s problems… I can’t finish them. The world suddenly went quiet. My chest stopped hurting. My body really did seem to become lighter-so light that it floated up from the chair. I floated near the ceiling, watching myself still slumped over the desk, motionless. Mom finally walked over. She saw the blood on the test paper, and a flash of panic crossed her eyes. But that panic lasted only one second. She probably thought I’d deliberately knocked over red ink. Mom, that’s not red ink. I’m sorry I got your test paper dirty. I watched the panic in her eyes quickly turn to rage. “Alysa! You’ve gotten bold now, haven’t you? Playing these little tricks!” “Fine. I’ll see just how long you can keep up this act!” “Click.” The door was locked from the outside. Mom’s icy voice came through the door, piercing. “You’re not leaving this room until you finish every single problem!”

The room was terrifyingly quiet. Only the livestream equipment blinked with a faint red light. My body lay slumped on the desk, motionless. Outside the door, I heard the low voices of Dad, Mom, and Ethan. “Are you dressed? We can’t be late for Mr. Evans’ dinner.” That was Dad’s voice. “All ready. Ethan, hurry up. Your grandparents are going too. Don’t keep them waiting.” That was Mom. Ethan’s voice carried a hint of impatience. “I know, I know. Stop nagging.” They were going out. Going to a lively family dinner. And I was locked in this room. An invisible force pulled at me, preventing me from staying in place. I could only follow them, passing through that locked door. Don’t go… Mom, I haven’t finished the problems yet. Where are you going? Did I do something wrong again? Is that why you’re leaving me behind? I floated behind them, watching Ethan’s limited-edition sneakers gleaming under the lights. They were all dressed up, looking completely unrelated to the girl growing cold in that room. The family got in the car. The heat was on full blast. As soon as Ethan got in, he pulled out his phone to brag. “Dad, Mom, look! My livestream broke another record! We had over 200,000 viewers online at the same time!” Mom’s face immediately lit up with satisfaction. “That’s my son. So accomplished.” Dad nodded approvingly. “Keep it up. This account is going to be valuable for your future.” They laughed, planning a beautiful future. I tried to touch Mom’s hand. It was the warmth I used to crave most. But my fingertips passed right through her body without resistance. Mom, your hands are still so warm. Why can’t I feel them anymore? Am I too cold? The car stopped at a red light. A skinny stray dog on the roadside suddenly started barking frantically at our window. Its barks were shrill, drawing looks from passersby. After a few barks, it let out a series of whimpers, tucking its tail and whining pitifully as it looked at me in the car. It pitied me. Dad was annoyed by the noise. He rolled down the window, about to scold the dog. But then he heard someone in the car next to us watching their phone and commenting loudly. “Look at this livestream! Is this girl okay? She’s been slumped over for almost two hours without moving!” “Seriously? Let me see… oh my God, her hands are turning purple! Someone call the police!” The smiles froze on my parents’ faces. Dad snatched the phone from Ethan and stared at the livestream. On screen, I still maintained my “sleeping” position, completely motionless. The flicker of concern in Mom’s eyes quickly morphed into contempt and anger. “I knew she was faking it! That little brat-she’ll do anything to avoid seeing relatives. Shameless!” Dad’s expression also turned cold. He tossed the phone back to Ethan, disgust in his voice. “Turn the livestream volume to max and loop math formulas for her.” “Let’s see how long she can sleep!” I wasn’t faking… Mom, I’m just too tired. I fell asleep. When I wake up, I’ll definitely finish all the problems. Please don’t be angry, okay? Accompanied by formulas I couldn’t understand, the car smoothly pulled into the five-star hotel parking lot. They got out and headed toward that feast without me. And I could only follow behind them.

The hotel’s most luxurious private dining room was full of relatives from the Sterling family. The moment they walked in, all eyes turned toward them. I saw my grandparents sitting in the seats of honor. When they realized no one was behind my parents, the light in their eyes dimmed. “Where’s Alysa?” Grandma stood up shakily, looking anxiously toward the door. “Didn’t you say you’d bring Alysa today? Since the child came back to the city, I haven’t even gotten a good look at her.” Mom sat down in her seat and picked up the wine glass in front of her, taking a small sip. “Don’t worry.” She smiled, though her tone carried a hint of helplessness. “Alysa is so stubborn. She got wild living in the countryside. She said she didn’t want to see the family, so now she’s at home staging a hunger strike.” My soul floated in midair. The table was full of delicious food, but I couldn’t smell any of it. I only felt cold. I watched grandma sit back down in disappointment and secretly slip a freshly fried chicken leg into her coat pocket. She muttered quietly to herself, “This child just loves the chicken legs I make… I’ll bring it back for her later.” A fashionably dressed aunt spoke up, her tone dripping with flattery. “Oh, don’t worry too much. Ethan is so outstanding. That’s what matters, right?” “Exactly,” another uncle chimed in. “Our Ethan is an influencer with millions of followers and a future Ivy League student! What could a country girl possibly amount to?” The relatives immediately began praising Ethan. Ethan waved his hand modestly. “Hey, everyone, please don’t say that.” He sighed, his voice just loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. “My sister is completely unmanageable. Today during the study livestream, everyone saw it. She started playing sick while doing problems, acting like she was dying.” “For her sake, my mom quit her job. My dad goes out networking every day. What does she do? She doesn’t appreciate any of it.” With just a few sentences, he painted me as ungrateful. The entire private room turned into a collective trial against me. “I told you. Kids who grow up in the countryside just don’t work out. Nothing but bad habits.” “Must be a genetic mutation. Otherwise how do you explain a family of geniuses producing a waste?” “Thank God we still have Ethan to carry on the family name, or she’d have ruined the Sterling family’s reputation completely!” Bang! Grandma slammed the table in fury and stood up. Her thin fingers trembled with anger as she pointed at everyone around the table. “What nonsense are you all spouting!” “Alysa is the sweetest child in the world! When she was in the village, she drew pictures for me every day-clouds in the sky, flowers in the fields. She’s more thoughtful than anyone!” “It’s you! It’s you people who brought her back and pushed her too hard!” Dad finally put down his fork. He wiped his mouth deliberately and looked at Grandma with stern authority. “You don’t understand education.” “She needs to suffer a little now so she won’t be worthless in the future.” “We locked her at home to make her reflect on what she did wrong.” Reflect? I floated beside Grandma, wishing I could hug her and tell her not to be angry. Don’t be angry over someone who’s already dead. But the moment I got close, Grandma shivered violently. “Oh my, why is the air conditioning in this room so cold?” Grandma, it’s me. I’m too cold. I looked at the fried chicken hidden in grandma’s pocket-the one she saved for me. My soul trembled violently. That chicken leg was still hot and steaming. But I would never get to eat it.

The atmosphere in the private room fell into deadlock because of Grandma’s outburst. “You don’t believe me?” Grandma pulled a crumpled letter from her inner pocket with trembling hands. “This is what Alysa secretly sent to me a few days ago! Look. This is her drawing!” She carefully unfolded the paper like she was holding a treasure. “She said she missed home and wanted to come back to the countryside… Look how well she draws!” On the paper was the endless field of flowers from the countryside. In the golden sea of flowers stood four people. Dad, Mom, Ethan, and me. Dad was lifting me high above his head. Mom and Ethan stood on either side. Everyone’s faces wore brilliant smiles. This was the only fantasy that kept me alive after coming to the city. But Mom didn’t even glance at it. She snatched the drawing away, her eyes full of contempt and impatience. “Who has time for this useless stuff!” “It’s these pointless hobbies that ruined her! Instead of studying, all she does is draw, draw, draw. Can that get her into an Ivy League school?” Before anyone could respond, she tore the drawing in half right in front of everyone. Then into more pieces. “The Sterling family doesn’t need mediocre artists!” “We only need Ivy League graduates!” Her shrill voice echoed through the room. The torn pieces of the drawing were thrown viciously into the trash bin for used plates. When the drawing was shredded, I felt my last attachment to this family break. Mom, I don’t hurt anymore. And I don’t want another chance anymore. My soul began to turn transparent. Even Grandma’s grief-stricken cries became distant. Just when Mom thought she’d won and successfully “educated” the disobedient old woman- Ethan’s phone suddenly vibrated frantically. It was a video call request. Ethan answered impatiently, planning to show off their fancy family dinner to the camera. But when the screen lit up, he froze. The livestream chat was filled with red text. “Call the police now! Streamer, your sister is really in trouble!” “I zoomed in. There’s blood at the corner of her mouth! She’s not sleeping!” “Streamer, go home and check on her! She hasn’t moved for three hours! Her hands have turned blue-purple!” “We’ve already called the police! The address is your house!” BANG! The door to the private room was suddenly shoved open from outside. It wasn’t a server. It was two grave-faced police officers in uniform. Behind them followed a medical examiner. The entire room fell deathly silent. The lead officer’s gaze was sharp. He scanned the room and finally settled on my parents. He pulled out a photo freshly printed from a portable printer. In the photo, I was slumped over the desk with blood at the corner of my mouth, my body rigid. It was a close-up. The officer’s voice was cold, each word clearly shattering the false atmosphere in the room. “Who is Alysa Sterling’s legal guardian?” “We received numerous reports from the public that your daughter had an accident during a livestream.” “After preliminary assessment by our technical department, we’ve confirmed no vital signs.” “Estimated time of death: two hours ago.”

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Ten years ago, another girl and I were sold into the mountains. To buy me time to escape, they broke both her legs. After we were rescued, my parents took her in as their adopted daughter and treated her like their own. Because of this, they neglected me—the one suffering from severe depression. They said, “You only have depression, but Wendy lost both her legs because of you.” But Mom, Dad, you’re both psychologists. Don’t you know that people with depression don’t want to live? My hand trembled uncontrollably as I clutched my phone. The physical symptoms were getting worse—my bones itched unbearably from deep within. I’d called Mom over a dozen times. She’d hung up every single one. Her text message was ice cold too. *Nina, today is Wendy’s comingofage ceremony. Stop making a scene.* My fingers unconsciously picked at the scabbed wound. I felt no pain—only a strange, liberating pleasure. I pressed my lips together and slowly typed a reply. Okay, Mom. I’ll make dinner and wait for you and Dad to come home. They were the city’s top psychologists with countless patients. But they still made time in their busy schedules to attend Wendy’s comingofage ceremony. I wiped away my tears and staggered to my feet. With practiced ease, I wrapped gauze around my wound and pulled on a longsleeved shirt that covered everything. Layer after layer of fabric wrapped around my body felt awkward. But over time, I’d gotten used to it. I ordered lots of ingredients through a delivery app. Dad’s favorite sea bass, Mom’s favorite beef, and Wendy’s beloved salmon. I washed the blood off the knife and tucked it back into the knife block, then grabbed another knife to prep the ingredients. My phone buzzed a few times. It was a voice message from Wendy. She was as gentle as always. “Nina, Mom and Dad both came to my comingofage ceremony. Why didn’t you come?” My thoughts felt sluggish. It wasn’t until an alarm with a reminder went off on my phone that I remembered why I hadn’t gone. Because today was my comingofage ceremony too. Last night before bed, I’d been abnormally excited. I imagined what gifts Mom and Dad might prepare for me. Maybe receiving their gifts would give me just a little more will to live. I lowered my eyes and looked at the family photo Wendy had sent me. She sat in her wheelchair, her biological parents standing on the left, my mom and dad standing on the right. The four of them held up a banner. *Wishing Wendy health every year, worryfree always.* I snapped back to reality and sent her my blessing and explanation. “Wendy, happy birthday.” “I didn’t come because today is my comingofage ceremony too. Can you tell Mom and Dad for me?” “I’m waiting for them to come home for dinner.” Wendy didn’t reply. But I knew she must be crying from guilt right now, urging Mom and Dad to come home and be with me. We’d survived together, grown up side by side for ten years, connected like flesh and bone. No one understood each other better than we did. There was only one thing I’d kept from her. Her legs were broken, but she escaped that mountain village. My soul, however, remained locked there forever, unable to find peace. I shook my head, pushing away the chaotic thoughts, and focused on preparing the meal. Half an hour later, the front door opened. Several voices called my name in unison. “Nina, we’re home.” Wendy’s choked voice stood out especially. “Nina, I’m sorry, I didn’t know today was your birthday too…” I pressed down my trembling hands and poked my head out from the kitchen. Mom and Dad wheeled Wendy to the kitchen doorway. The sweet scent of chocolate cake wafted toward me. Mom cleared her throat and handed the cake to me. “Happy birthday, Nina.” The light in my eyes suddenly brightened. But the moment I touched the cake, that brightness instantly turned to deathly silence. I’d seen this cake before. In the photos Wendy sent me, this was the top tier of the beautiful, elaborate fivelayer cake.

I still put on a smile. “I’ve already made dinner. Should we eat now?” Wendy looked up, her gaze tracing over my face again and again. After confirming I really wasn’t angry, she breathed a sigh of relief and quickly grabbed my hand. “Let’s eat! Nina, you don’t know how terrible the restaurant food was.” “It’s your birthday and you still had to cook. That must have been hard.” I kept smiling, the curve of my lips unchanged. But I suddenly yanked my hand free from Wendy’s grasp, turned, and rushed into my room, slamming the door hard. The bedroom curtains were drawn tight, not letting in a sliver of light. I curled up in the corner, my whole body shaking uncontrollably. I couldn’t. I couldn’t let Wendy see me like this. Mom started pounding on the door. “Nina, you scared Wendy with your dramatics!” “Come out right now and apologize to Wendy!” I desperately pinched my palm to control myself, creating several bloody crescent marks. “I’ll be right out, Mom.” I stumbled to my nightstand and took out the gift I’d prepared for Wendy long ago. Taking several deep breaths, I opened the door. Wendy hung her head while Mom and Dad stood beside her, their expressions tense. I grinned as if nothing had happened and crouched beside Wendy. “Wendy, you love vintage things. I found this for you.” Scalding tears fell onto the back of my hand. Her voice was hoarse as she asked: “Nina, we’ve known each other for ten years, and I didn’t even remember your birthday. Are you upset with me?” I shook my head gently. “No.” If it hadn’t been for Wendy back then, I would have died long ago. Mom let out a long breath and wheeled Wendy to the dining table. Dad pulled me into the kitchen under the pretense of serving food. “Nina, I hope what happened today doesn’t happen again.” “Wendy became the way she is because of you. You shouldn’t give her the cold shoulder.” I clutched my clothes, my voice soft: “Dad, I wasn’t being cold. It’s the physical manifestation of my depression.” He frowned, his voice turning cold: “Nina, depression isn’t that easy to get. Have you been secretly reading your mother’s and my psychology books again?” I opened my mouth but didn’t know how to argue. The doorbell rang. Mom opened the door and welcomed Wendy’s parents inside. They still wore the custommade formal wear from Wendy’s ceremony, carrying a few boxes of milk and snacks. Their attitude was perfunctory and dismissive. “We didn’t realize today was Nina’s birthday too. We didn’t have time to prepare any gifts.” Mom and Dad’s smiles didn’t change one bit. They’d long grown accustomed to Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence’s dismissive attitude toward me. The person who’d caused Wendy to lose her legs had died. So naturally, the Lawrences transferred their hatred to me. I said nothing and simply brought the dishes to the table. I sat down next to Wendy. The two sets of parents chatted animatedly. Under the table, Wendy’s hand moved and hooked around my finger. Her voice was quiet: “Nina, you’re eating too little.” I leaned close to her ear and whispered my secret. “I can’t eat much right now.” Actually, that wasn’t it. It was because my depression was too severe. One more bite and I’d want to vomit. Vomiting in front of elders would be very rude. Wendy laughed at my serious tone. The parents’ conversation stopped, their eyes falling on us. Mrs. Lawrence set down her fork: “Wendy, your comingofage ceremony was ruined. How can you still be so happy?” The atmosphere instantly froze. Mom and Dad exchanged glances and tried to smooth things over with a laugh: “The kids are just whispering and laughing, it’s nothing…” “Kids?” Mrs. Lawrence scoffed. “They’re adults now. What kind of kids?” “Some things need to be said clearly. Back then, you two caused both children to be kidnapped. My daughter nearly died, but your daughter came out without a scratch!” “And you two keep showing up in front of my daughter.” Her voice suddenly rose: “You’re the culprits! You’re breaking my daughter’s heart!” The peace maintained for many years shattered in this moment. Mom and Dad’s faces went white, breaking out in cold sweat from guilt. Wendy gripped my icecold hand tightly and screamed in disbelief: “Mom, what are you saying?” Mrs. Lawrence’s eyes were icy: “Wendy, you’re softhearted, but being softhearted to everyone will only hurt you.” “From now on, we forbid you from seeing Nina again.” They ignored Wendy’s protests and wheeled her away. As the door slammed shut, I met her tearfilled eyes as she shook her head frantically. I bit the soft flesh inside my cheek and silently mouthed: “It’s okay.” Mom and Dad sat at the dining table, their faces pale as paper. Their eyes were empty, unfocused, murmuring: “Nina, you deserve this.” “This is what our family owes them.” I nodded and returned to my room, vomit and tears falling together into the trash can. If I’d died in that village, would everyone be happy?

I didn’t know when I fell asleep. In my dream, I seemed to return to that year when I was eight. A depression patient my parents had been treating jumped off a building. The patient’s family believed Mom and Dad had guided the patient to commit suicide. They wanted to make Mom and Dad experience the pain of losing a loved one too. So they found my school and kidnapped me. Wendy saw me being dragged into the car and started crying from fear. The kidnappers were afraid of being exposed, so they took her too. After several transfers, we were sold to a mountain village. The man who bought us was a single man. He treated me as a woman and treated Wendy like livestock. When Wendy went out to work in the fields, he would tie me to the bed. I don’t know how long those days lasted. I finally found a chance to knock him unconscious with something. But I was too weak—he only passed out for a moment. Wendy came home just in time and grabbed his legs to hold him back. I ran to the village entrance and happened to run into Mom and Dad, who’d followed the leads to find me. But when we went back to save Wendy, her legs were already twisted beyond recognition. Such a terrifying dream. This dream had tormented me for ten years. I woke with a start, my hands trembling as I grabbed my phone to call Wendy. She hadn’t slept either, crying until her voice was hoarse but still trying to comfort me. “Nina, don’t listen to what they said.” “It’s not your fault. You’re innocent too.” I was silent for a moment before speaking softly: “Wendy, can I come see you?” I ran as fast as I could to Wendy’s apartment building. She was struggling to wheel herself out. I rushed over and pushed her to the small garden in the residential complex. It was the middle of the night—the complex was empty. The world was so quiet, there was only us. I fumbled in my pocket and pressed my bank card with all my savings into her hand. “I know your aunt and uncle got you the latest prosthetic technology that won’t irritate your residual limbs.” She pushed it back with red eyes. I insisted on tucking it into her pocket. “Wendy, don’t refuse me.” “Our family owes your family. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be healthy.” “Just let me make it up to you, even just a little.” I crouched in front of her and gently brushed against her leg. Ten years ago, when I was thrown out like a broken rag doll, she’d cried as she placed my head on her lap. She told me everything would be okay. Now, tears streaming down her face, she tremblingly brushed my teardampened hair away from my face. “Nina, Nina, everything will get better.” The night was pitch black, but Wendy’s eyes always sparkled. I said nothing. After we’d both cried silently for a long time, a light turned on. Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence arrived, their voices trembling: “You again!” “Nina, why are you looking for my daughter in the middle of the night?” Furious, they pulled Wendy in front of them. Their voices held unbearable pain. “Wendy! You can ignore the harm she’s caused you.” “But do you know that every time you see her, our hearts ache!” “In our eyes, she’s the culprit who turned you into this! We wish she would die!” “Please don’t see her anymore, okay?” Wendy cried and shook her head. But I laughed: “Don’t worry, Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence.” “Today is the last time I’ll see Wendy.” Finally, I bent down and whispered in Wendy’s ear: “What happened in that village—never speak of it again, even until death.” With that, I turned and left decisively. Wendy’s crying and shouting scattered in the wind. I walked far away before I dared look back. My heart felt like it had a huge hole torn in it, whistling with wind. The bond we’d grown up with, connected like flesh and bone, I’d severed with my own hands. It hurt so much. It hurt even more than when the knife sliced across my wrist.

When I got home, Mom and Dad were sitting on the sofa with cold faces. I took a deep breath and put on a smile. “Mom, Dad, why aren’t you sleeping so late?” They looked at me, their eyes full of exhaustion. “Nina, what did you do?” “Do you know Wendy just threatened to kill herself?” The forced smile froze on my face, a buzzing sound filling my ears. I shook my head, my voice distant: “Mom, my depression is really bad. I just had an auditory hallucination.” “How could Wendy want to kill herself?” Mom walked up to me, her eyeballs filled with bloodshot veins. Her hand rose high and came down hard. A burning sting spread across my cheek. I heard her crying as she shouted at me: “Nina, how long are you going to keep up this act?” “Wendy was kidnapped because of us. To save you, she became disabled. We were afraid she and her family would hate you, so we did everything we could to make it up to her.” “But what did you do? You saw her once and almost drove her to death!” She covered her face and collapsed crying into Dad’s arms. Dad’s face was deathly pale, his lips trembling: “Nina, Wendy is more pitiful than you.” “I don’t care what you said to her. Come with us to the hospital right now and get on your knees to apologize to her and her parents.” “You don’t come home until they forgive you.” He reached out and grabbed my wrist, his fingertips pressing right into my wound through my sleeve. The pain brought me a strange pleasure. I suddenly laughed. Under their horrified gazes, I rolled up my sleeve a little. Just enough to reveal the wound on my wrist. “If I apologize to them, then who’s going to apologize to me?” “Mom, Dad, I have very, very severe depression. I want to die.” I said this almost woodenly. Mom cried even harder, and Dad’s face looked even worse. They pushed past me and slammed the door hard. Leaving behind only one sentence: “Playing the victim to escape responsibility again. If we’d known you’d turn out like this, we shouldn’t have rescued you in the first place.” I stood in the living room for a very, very long time. So long that the sky changed from dark to gray, and finally a piercing light appeared. The sky outside grew bright. But my sky had become eternal night. I smiled a little and moved my numb legs. I picked up the broom and mop and cleaned the entire house. When I was first rescued, I wouldn’t eat or drink, my whole person like a soulless broken doll. Mom and Dad were afraid I’d do something drastic, so they tried every way to distract me. They choked up: “Nina, if there’s anything that can make you forget those things, just do it.” “Mom and Dad don’t want to lose you.” For those words, I became obsessed with housework. Over time, the habit stuck. But this time I was exceptionally meticulous, cleaning every corner. After all, it was the last time. I put on my most presentable clothes and lay down on the bed. I opened the sleeping pills I’d prepared long ago and shoved them into my mouth by the handful. Good thing I’d prepared honey water. Otherwise, how could I swallow such bitter pills? Outside the window, clouds covered the sun. It was dark—perfect for sleeping. But as I grew drowsy, I wanted to say goodbye to them. I sent everyone a message. *Dad, I’m in so much pain right now.* *Mom, I miss you so much. You haven’t hugged me in so long.* *Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, I’m sorry. I’m the one who hurt Wendy.* *Wendy, you guessed my illness. Don’t do anything fool…* My vision kept going black. I had no strength left. My body didn’t hurt anymore either. I felt light as a feather. Let it be like this. There’s nothing much left I want to say.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “366883”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #重生Reborn #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #擦边Steamy #狼人Werewolf

My boyfriend was a once-in-a-century artistic genius, while I couldn’t even distinguish the most basic color schemes. For seven years, he defended me in front of everyone—until that talented female artist named Quinn Snow appeared. When I injured my leg and needed care, he spent the entire night helping Quinn revise her drafts. When a thug followed me and I called him for help, he had to take Quinn’s dog to the hospital first because it was having birth complications. That day, when friends once again joked that he and Quinn were the perfect match, Adrian no longer defended me like he used to. Instead, he smiled with regret in his eyes. That evening, he even asked me at the dinner table: “Why don’t I ask Quinn to check with her doctor relatives to see if they can cure your color vision disorder?” My hand froze while serving soup. On the surface, Adrian was trying to save our relationship from an impending crisis. But in reality, he had already fallen for another woman. That’s why he was starting to notice and resent my mediocrity. I didn’t answer Adrian’s question. Instead, I smiled bitterly and asked him: “Why do you always bring up Quinn Snow in front of me?” Adrian froze for a moment, guilt flickering across his face. He explained: “You know, right now she’s the only one who can compete with me…” Proud as Adrian was, he never would have explained himself like that before. He used to say: “Cece, my world only has paintbrushes and you. I don’t have energy for anyone else.” But now, Adrian hadn’t even realized it. Quinn Snow’s place in his heart had actually moved ahead of mine. When I injured my leg and needed care, he spent the whole night helping Quinn revise her drafts. When a thug followed me and I called him for help, he had to take Quinn’s dog to the hospital first. When I confronted him, he coldly retorted. He said he didn’t care about Quinn—he cared about art and life. But Adrian, I told you long ago. I can’t tolerate even a grain of sand in my eyes. Adrian’s bluster completely ended when I showed him photos of him and Quinn embracing. His expression changed, as if I had deeply betrayed his trust: “You followed me?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his reaction was excessive and hastily tried to cover it up: “Quinn was drunk that time. I was just supporting her…” Watching Adrian’s clumsy performance, I forced down the ache in my chest and decided to fight for him one last time: “If you still want to be with me, delete all of Quinn Snow’s contact information and never see her again.” After hearing my words, Adrian first stared at me darkly for a while. Then he stood up and, without warning, overturned the dishes onto the floor: “All you do every day is cook and clean! You have zero connection to my art and can’t understand the mutual appreciation between geniuses at all!” “I’ve tolerated your mediocrity and incompetence, yet you want to interfere with my life ideals and social life!” I said nothing, quietly looking at the shattered dishes on the floor. Just like looking at the end of my relationship with Adrian. His crazed expression was too ugly, too unfamiliar. In those seven years of dating, Adrian had always been cold and indifferent. Aside from painting and me, he didn’t care about anyone or anything else. He had never been like this—jumping up in rage, face contorted—as if I were taking away his most treasured possession. I crouched down, touching a ceramic shard, my tone as calm as if discussing the weather: “Adrian, let’s break up.”

My thoughts drifted back eight years. The day I met Adrian, I was on the edge between life and death. Severe depression made it hard to distinguish reality from illusion. I walked onto a bridge in a daze, looking down at the surging river that seemed to beckon me. Adrian, who happened to pass by, noticed my state and pulled me back from the brink. At that time, he was also at a low point in his life. We encouraged each other, healed each other’s wounds, and gradually became the most important people to each other. Later, Adrian stood at the pinnacle of the art world, while I became a stay-at-home girlfriend who only revolved around him. Even so, he always stood up for me when others mocked or belittled me. He took action to defend our love. He told me firmly: “Cece, don’t worry about what others say. You’ll always be one of a kind in my heart!” I thought true love could overcome everything. Turns out the expiration date on our love was only seven years. Sharp pain brought me back to reality. Adrian vented his anger by kicking the broken bowl at his feet. The shards hit the wall not far from me, then bounced back onto my arm. Blood immediately started flowing. Adrian panicked. He rushed over to check my injury, tears even welling in his eyes: “I’m sorry, Cece. I shouldn’t have treated you like that… I’ve hit a bottleneck recently, the pressure is just too much…” While explaining, he frantically rushed me to the hospital. In his urgency, the usually composed Adrian even lost his shoes three times. He still seemed like the Adrian who would lose his composure for me. But only I knew— We could never go back. After watching the doctor treat my wound, Adrian went downstairs to buy me soup. I held my phone and started clearing out the seven years of memories with Adrian stored inside. That’s when Quinn Snow appeared. Come to think of it, this was our first direct confrontation. She herself was like her paintings—breathtakingly beautiful. Quinn looked at me like I was an ant, getting straight to the point: “A fool like you doesn’t deserve Adrian. Break up with him now.” I laughed out loud, with no desire to argue with her, keeping my head down as I continued clearing my phone. Seeing my indifference, Quinn shoved her chat window with Adrian in my face. [Cece has changed. She never used to argue with me. Tonight she even deliberately didn’t dodge the shards. It feels like she’s playing the victim for sympathy.] My heart clenched with pain. Before, if I just accidentally bumped into something, Adrian would lose sleep all night from worry. Now I had such a long gash, yet he thought I was playing the victim for sympathy. Indeed— When a man stops loving you, even if you hang yourself, he’ll just think you’re on a swing! I blinked my eyes, desperately forcing back the tears. Quinn continued scrolling up the screen. I stayed motionless, masochistically viewing their chat history. That Adrian who was always quiet and cold to everyone except me was actually interacting with Quinn every single day. They shared paintings they loved, interesting things in life, even a weirdly shaped crooked tree. I suddenly felt it was all quite meaningless. I moved my gaze from the screen to Quinn’s triumphant face, enunciating almost word by word: “You shameless homewrecker.” The smile on Quinn’s face briefly disappeared. A moment later, she raised an even more provocative smile: “Want to make a bet to see who Adrian trusts and cares about more?” With that, she suddenly grabbed my hair and dragged me to the wall, forcefully slamming my head against it. My right hand was injured and I was completely unprepared, so I couldn’t break free from her grip at all. Once, twice, three times. Quinn only stopped after drawing blood. Then she put on a panicked, frightened expression and stumbled toward the door: “Doctor! Nurse! Where are you! Someone’s self-harming here!”

Adrian, having received the message, rushed back. I hadn’t said anything yet when Quinn tearfully grabbed Adrian’s sleeve: “Adrian, you have to believe me. I didn’t touch a single hair on Cece’s head!” After a long silence, Adrian comforted Quinn a few times before walking toward me with a complicated expression. He glanced at the bandage wrapped around my head, as if asking a question he already knew the answer to: “Cece, tell me the truth. Are you jealous that Quinn and I are kindred spirits in art, so you…” “Slap!” I interrupted Adrian’s nonsense with a slap. My left palm went numb from the impact, but aside from heartache, I couldn’t seem to feel pain anywhere else in my body. Was this the man I’d loved for seven years? Quinn immediately rushed over and pulled the dazed Adrian away from me. “Framing me is one thing, but Adrian just wanted to ask what happened. How could you hit him!” She accused me while crying heartbroken tears: “Adrian, sit here and don’t move. I’ll go find a nurse to get an ice pack…” I gave them both a cold look and took out my phone to call 911: “Don’t rush to leave. Since you say I’m trying to frame you, let the police clear your name.” Quinn instinctively glanced at the ceiling. I knew she was well aware there were no surveillance cameras in the hospital room. But unfortunately, I’d suffered this kind of loss once before long ago. So the moment Quinn approached me, I had already turned on my phone’s recording function. At the same time, I understood Adrian very well. He was someone extremely protective. The person occupying his thoughts was no longer me. If I didn’t wait for the police to arrive before presenting evidence, I wouldn’t even have the chance to show it. Quinn quietly waited for me to finish the call. She bit her lip pitifully, forcing a smile: “It’s okay, Adrian. As long as you believe me, that’s enough.” “An honest person fears no crooked shadows. I believe the police will clear my name!” Adrian looked at her with eyes full of sympathy for a good while, then turned to scold me: “How did you become so vicious? Filing false police reports wastes public resources. When the police come, you explain it to them yourself!” I laughed out loud: “But Adrian, from the moment you came in until now, have I said a single bad word about Quinn Snow?” Adrian froze, his face instantly showing traces of embarrassment and hesitation. An indescribable exhaustion swept through my entire body. I closed my eyes, no longer bothering with his excuses, quietly waiting for the police to arrive. Quinn was someone who liked to seize the initiative. As soon as the police arrived, she immediately stepped forward and pointed at me accusingly: “I just came to visit her out of kindness, and she suddenly ran and hit the wall herself, then blamed it on me!” Adrian wore an apologetic expression: “Sorry, officers. My girlfriend’s been emotionally unstable lately. It might be related to the depression she had before…” My heart jumped violently. During the worst year of my illness, Adrian was most afraid of anyone mentioning those words in front of me. When I was self-harming, he held me tightly. Even when cut by the sharp blade in my hand, he would tirelessly coax me again and again: “Cece, you’re not sick. You’re just not very happy. I’ll find a way to make you better, and you can’t give up on yourself either!” But now, to clear Quinn of suspicion, he actually used my past trauma to attack and deal with me as if it meant nothing. The police didn’t immediately believe their story. He looked at me: “Miss West, do you have anything to say?” I smiled slightly and played the recording on the spot.

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I grew up showered with endless affection. My parents deliberately adopted three girls to raise alongside me, intending for me to choose one of them to marry when I came of age. But they treated me with cold indifference, while showering our family driver’s son, Marcus Greene, with warmth and enthusiasm. Until one incident changed everything. Marcus and I were both kidnapped. Fiona Carter led the charge in abandoning me to save Marcus instead. She said, “You were born with a silver spoon. Someone will avenge you. You don’t need us.” Her words cut through me like a knife, and I suddenly realized just how wrong I’d been all these years. After I recovered from my injuries, I went to my father with a decision. “Dad, I’ve decided to marry Vivian White.” “But her face was damaged in the accident. Are you sure you’re not joking?” Hearing Dad’s question, I simply smiled calmly. “I’m not joking.” “I just suddenly realized that I care for her.” “And she’s the one I should marry.” Seeing my determination, Dad let out a gentle sigh. “As long as you’re happy, we support you.” “I thought you were so attached to Fiona and the others that you’d choose one of them.” When Dad mentioned Fiona and the others, a dull pain struck my chest. I couldn’t help but recall the kidnapping from a few days ago—how coldly they abandoned me without a second thought, then blamed me for wandering off with Marcus. Perhaps I should have realized it earlier. Fiona and the others had always favored Marcus. From the moment they first arrived at our home, they always had. Thinking of this, I swallowed the bitterness and nodded. After Dad and Vivian’s family expressed their support for my decision, I left my parents’ house and drove back to my suburban villa. But as soon as I pulled up to the front door, deafening music from inside made me frown. I pushed open the door to find my tasteful decor transformed into a tacky party scene. And the culprits were obviously Fiona, Rachel, and Claire, all surrounding Marcus in the center. “Damien, you’re back.” The sudden voice made Fiona turn her gaze toward me, her eyes full of disgust. “You dare show your face here.” I opened my mouth to speak, but Rachel, standing beside her, cut me off with a cold snort. “Why wouldn’t he dare? Damien’s rich. How could we compare?” “Who knows what he’s been telling Mr. White about how we abandoned him!” Even Claire, who usually stayed quiet, nodded in agreement. The three of them united against me made me bristle with anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “This is my house. Why wouldn’t I come back?” “Besides, I don’t have the time to complain to my father.” Of course, I was also afraid that Dad would get angry enough to damage his health. But my explanation only made them think I was hiding my guilt. “Who knows if you’re telling the truth!” “But now that you’re back, hurry up and apologize to Marcus.” “I didn’t have time to deal with you that day! If you hadn’t dragged Marcus out, how would he have gotten kidnapped?” Rachel spoke first, with the other two nodding in agreement. But Marcus had been the one who asked me to go out that day. How did it become my idea? I tried to defend myself. “That day, Marcus was the one who—” Before I could finish, Marcus, who’d been playing invisible until now, dropped to his knees with a thud, tears flowing instantly. “Damien! Please don’t blame Fiona and the others. They’re just worried about me.” “It’s all my fault. I was the one who asked you to go out that day. It’s all my fault, boo hoo…” His words immediately filled their eyes with sympathy, while their gazes toward me grew colder. “Damien, if you have a problem, take it up with me. Stop targeting Marcus behind everyone’s back!” “I’m ordering you to apologize right now! Otherwise, none of us will forgive you!” Fiona glared at me coldly as she issued her ultimatum. I felt my breath catch, my mind flashing back to the humiliation they’d put me through on my coming-of-age ceremony. The banquet had been filled with important guests. Marcus was supposed to help me get dressed, but just before the event started, he came crying that he’d ruined my outfit. I lost my temper and yelled at him. Then he suddenly collapsed on the floor, tearing at his clothes frantically. “Damien, I’m sorry! Don’t do this to me!” Then Fiona and the others walked in. Without asking a single question, they forced me to apologize. They even brought me an ill-fitting outfit to wear, making me look like a complete fool. When Dad asked about it later, I said I’d suddenly wanted to wear it, afraid they’d get in trouble. Looking back now, I’d been such an idiot! But now? I wasn’t going to indulge them anymore. I raised my head, my eyes fierce as I looked at the three of them and refused loudly, “I won’t apologize!”

“You won’t apologize?” “That’s not your choice to make!” “Someone grab Damien!” Seeing my refusal, Fiona sneered and ordered the security guards nearby, “Hold him down!” The guards stepped forward and forcibly restrained me. I’d almost forgotten—these past few years, I’d shown such dependence on the three of them that everyone secretly believed the White family fortune would belong to them. They’d long since stopped respecting me. A chill ran through my heart as I looked at the three of them with increasingly cold eyes. “What’s with that look? Apologize!” “Listen, Damien, don’t think we won’t do anything just because you’re a White.” “You’re going to need the three of us in the future!” Rachel shot me a glance and spoke mockingly. She looked absolutely disgusting. Who the hell made them think this way? I couldn’t understand it. I tried to struggle free, but the grip on me only tightened. They didn’t release me until I was forced to bow my head to Marcus in apology. “Today’s just a little punishment.” “Behave yourself, or you’ll regret it!” After issuing their threat, Fiona and the others left with Marcus, surrounding him like he was royalty. I collapsed on the floor, watching clearly as Marcus shot me a provocative look. I clenched my fists in rage. Just then, my phone rang. It was Vivian calling. I answered, forcing myself to calm down. “What is it?” “Nothing much. Just reminding you not to forget to select the wedding venue and pick out your suit.” Her low voice sounded in my ear, making me momentarily dazed. By the time I snapped back to reality, she’d already hung up. That woman was quick! I had no choice but to pick myself up, quickly clean up, and head out. I went to redesign the wedding venue I’d originally prepared for the three of them. I just didn’t expect them to be shameless enough to rush over after being notified.

“Damien, you’re really shameless! That desperate to get married? We just punished you and you’re already here setting up the venue!” Rachel looked at me with disgust. The others wore matching expressions. I tried to be patient and explain, but before I could open my mouth, Fiona ordered the security guards who’d followed them to tear everything down. “Throw out all these disgusting flowers!” “Replace everything with white roses—Marcus’s favorite.” “Damien, even if you get married, the wedding has to be what Marcus likes. You owe him this.” As her words fell, the flower arch I’d just had set up was kicked over. I couldn’t react in time, still trying to figure out what I supposedly owed Marcus. “Fiona! I’m not marrying any of you three. You have no right to destroy my venue!” “Not us three? That’s hilarious. Everyone in our circle knows how obsessed you are with us!” “Obviously it’s—” Before I could finish, a loud crash came from behind me. I turned to see the guards had already smashed the area where I planned to display our wedding photos. Others followed suit, destroying other parts of the venue. In the blink of an eye, half the wedding venue was ruined. “Stop! What right do you have to destroy my wedding venue? Who gave you permission!” “Stop right now!” But they ignored me, their actions not slowing at all. I shouted until my voice was hoarse, but couldn’t stop them. I watched helplessly as my carefully arranged venue turned into a complete mess. And the perpetrators stood before me, nodding with satisfaction. “Much better! Good riddance to all that eyesore.” “Let’s go! We still need to take Marcus to the bakery!” Rachel smirked and left with the group. Leaving me standing there alone. It took me a while to collect myself and stand up. I didn’t have time to settle scores with them. Right now, the most important thing was to redesign the wedding venue and select the suits. Nothing else mattered. As for those three, I’d already made a mental note of everything. Once the dust settled, I’d make them pay. By the time I finished redesigning the wedding venue, two days had passed. My wedding with Vivian was drawing closer. I couldn’t control my excitement, and even wore a smile I hadn’t had in days when I went out to try on suits. But when I arrived, I found Fiona, Rachel, Claire, and Marcus already there. The four of them acted as if I didn’t exist, intimately clinging to each other. And Marcus was wearing my carefully selected custom suit—the one my father had given me as a coming-of-age gift. Italian handmade, priceless. Fiona, standing at the edge, noticed me first and scolded impatiently. “What are you doing here? Did you have someone tip you off again?” “You really can’t live without us, can you? And you say you’re not trying to marry us—this suit is the one we all picked out together back then!” “Marcus wants to take photos with us and doesn’t have a proper suit, so we’re letting him borrow yours.” “Consider it a chance to make amends.” She stopped paying attention to me and joined Rachel and Claire in complimenting Marcus. Every word implicitly belittling me. “Our Marcus looks so good in it. So much better than certain people with evil hearts!” “Such a shame. If we didn’t have to have someone get married, I’d want the four of us to stay together forever.” Rachel couldn’t help but sigh, prompting Marcus to comfort them. “It’s okay, Rachel. No matter who marries whom, the four of us will always be family.” I trembled with rage and said through gritted teeth, “You like Marcus so much that you’ll steal people’s clothes for him to wear?” “Fine! I’ll make sure people see just how shameless you are!” I raised my phone to photograph them. Seeing this, Fiona furiously ordered people to drag me away. “She’s crazy, the crazy woman! Get her out of here!” Then I was thrown outside, forced to watch helplessly as my precious suit stayed on Marcus’s body. And I was powerless to stop it.

I stood outside the boutique for a full hour, watching them take group photos with Marcus in formal wear. Then they did a painting-themed photoshoot, getting paint all over the suit. With each stain, I regretted my past blindness more and more. After they finished, they threw the ruined suit at me. “Pick another one yourself. Oh, and the photos will feature the four of us.” Rachel said provocatively in my ear. But I couldn’t hear anything. My mind kept repeating one sentence. The suit was ruined. I returned to my parents’ house in a daze and lay down, unable to hold back my tears. Knock knock. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Mom holding a box, looking mysteriously pleased as she handed it to me. “What’s this?” “Open it and see.” Following Mom’s suggestion, I opened the box to find a suit. Mom smiled beside me. “You don’t know—Vivian had someone deliver this. She’s so thoughtful.” “And she designed it herself!” Hearing this, my heart started pounding. I suddenly felt that my decision to marry her was the right one. I took out the suit and tried it on. It fit perfectly. I could even imagine what Vivian and I would look like standing together. This woman… she was pretty good. I smiled and sent her a selfie. Soon I received her reply. After that, to avoid running into Fiona and the others, I stayed home until right before the wedding. Soon, the wedding day arrived. On the wedding day, the White family arranged a grand motorcade parade, and multiple city landmarks displayed live broadcasts of the ceremony. It showed how much Vivian valued me. At ten in the morning, I slowly walked up to the ceremony platform, nervously waiting for Vivian’s arrival. Meanwhile, Fiona and the others were drinking at a private club with Marcus, watching the broadcast with cold smiles. “I want to see where he finds a bride to marry without us three.” “Exactly. He needs to be taught a lesson. When we say we were busy, he’ll still protect us. No need to worry about Mr. White getting angry.” Rachel clinked glasses with her companions after speaking. And on the big screen, I had already slowly walked onto the wedding platform. My heart was full of anticipation as I waited for Vivian’s arrival. “Fiona, is this really okay?” Marcus held his wine glass, blinking as he spoke, secretly delighting inside. The others felt a bit uneasy but still pretended nothing was wrong. When the time came, Fiona stood up first, only to find Rachel, usually the loudest, frozen in place. “What’s wrong, Rachel?” Fiona asked. “Fiona, I think Damien was telling the truth. The bride isn’t one of us…” Fiona looked up at the big screen. When she saw the figure walking toward me, she froze. “Vivian White!”

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I was targeted and bullied by the scholarship student my parents sponsored—locked in a bathroom, doused with cold water, and photographed naked. When I came to my parents crying with my medical report and audio recordings, begging them to call the police, they confiscated my phone instead for the sake of their ridiculous “reputation.” “Lily, Claire’s family is poor. This is just kids horsing around. If we call the police, the media will say we’re big-shot prosecutors abusing our power, ruining a student from a disadvantaged background.” “You’re our daughter—you need to be magnanimous, to have perspective. To avoid any appearance of impropriety, we’ll settle this privately. Write her a letter of understanding.” I stared in disbelief at that letter filled with so-called “perspective.” “She destroyed me, but you’re afraid of destroying her?” “She’s your real daughter, isn’t she?” I saw the post Claire shared on Instagram—photos of my parents taking her to the seafood feast I’d begged for months to try, captioned: “My parents say some princesses just need to be put in their place.” In that moment, my heart died completely.

“Lily, smile! Aren’t your parents big-shot prosecutors?” “Have them come save you! Let’s see if they protect you or me—their model poverty case.” The bathroom stall door slammed open. A bucket of ice water mixed with cigarette ash poured over my head. I huddled by the toilet, soaked to the bone, my uniform plastered to my skin. Claire held up her phone, the camera lens shoved almost into my face, the flash so bright I couldn’t open my eyes. I bit down hard on my lip, the taste of blood filling my mouth. That evening, I knelt on the marble floor of our living room, clutching my medical report and voice recorder. “Mr. Sterling, I need to report this to the police. Claire took photos of my…” “Shut up.” Rachel wore her crisp uniform, holding a cup of freshly brewed tea, not even looking up. “Go change your clothes. You smell terrible. What a disgrace.” I looked up in disbelief, my knees aching against the hard floor. “Ms. Rachel, this is evidence! She held me underwater. She’s going to post it online…” Dad sat in his usual spot on the sofa, an unlit cigarette between his fingers. He finally looked at me, his eyes cold. “Lily, give me your phone.” I handed it over with trembling hands. The next second, he expertly powered it off, pulled out the SIM card, and tossed it into the ashtray in front of him. “Starting today, your phone is confiscated. You’ll stay home and reflect on your behavior.” I jerked my head up. “Why? I’m the victim! Mr. Sterling, listen to the recording—she was humiliating me…” “I said shut up!” Dad slammed his hand on the table, making the teacup rattle. He stood and walked over to me. “Call the police? Do you know what that means?” “What will the media write? ‘Prosecutor’s daughter abuses power, destroys poor student’s future.’” “Claire’s family is poor. Her father is paralyzed. She’s the city’s model of perseverance and self-improvement.” “What matters more to us—our reputation or your little grievance?” I opened my mouth, but my throat was dry. No sound came out. My grievance? Being photographed naked, having my head shoved in a toilet—in his mouth, that was just a “little grievance.” Mom set down her teacup and walked over. “Lily, you need to be reasonable. In our position, countless eyes are watching us.” “Claire has it hard too. She’s just a bit aggressive, trying to get attention.” “You’re the older one. You need to have perspective. To avoid any appearance of impropriety, this must be settled privately.” She pulled a sheet of paper from her briefcase and pushed it in front of me. “Letter of Understanding.” Party A: Lily. Party B: Claire. The content stated: This was horseplay between classmates. Party A will not pursue charges and waives all legal claims. Dad handed me a fountain pen. “Sign it. Don’t make us force you.” I stared at that pen—the one I’d given him when he was promoted to Chief Prosecutor. “What if I don’t sign?” Dad let out a cold laugh. “Don’t sign? Then you’ll take a leave from school. We’ll send you to stay with Grandpa in the countryside.” “Either way, without my approval, no case will be filed. No one will dare take it.” These were my parents. For their pristine image, for their so-called “reputation,” they were willing to sacrifice their own daughter. My hand trembled as I took the pen. The tip tore across the paper as I signed my name. Mom collected the document with satisfaction, her face brightening with a smile. “That’s better. Mom knew you’d be reasonable. Are you hungry? I’ll make dinner.” “No need.” I pushed myself up from the floor, my knees numb. Back in my room, I dug out my backup tablet. Half an hour later, a notification popped up on Instagram. It was Claire’s post. A grid of nine photos. Giant king crab, Australian lobster, and two hands raising glasses in a toast. One wore Mom’s diamond ring, the other Dad’s watch. Location tagged: Ocean Cloud Restaurant. Caption: “My parents said they’d treat me to calm my nerves. Some princesses just need to be put in their place.” “Thanks, Ms. Rachel and Mr. Sterling! Love you!” I stared at those words, my stomach churning. So “making dinner” actually meant they had reservations all along, taking my abuser out to celebrate. I rushed to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. In the mirror, my face was deathly pale, my lip still split. While on my phone screen, the three of them looked like a perfect happy family. Since you love this “daughter” so much… Then I won’t be your real daughter anymore.

I woke before dawn. I dragged out my dusty suitcase and started packing. The closet was full of designer clothes Mom had bought. I didn’t take a single piece. Just packed a few pilled T-shirts and two pairs of faded jeans. I smashed open my piggy bank—eighteen hundred dollars inside. When I dragged the suitcase downstairs, the smell of food filled the dining room. The table was set with pan-fried buns and millet porridge. Mom was untying her apron, her brow furrowing. “What are you doing dragging a suitcase around at the crack of dawn? All that noise—it’s deafening.” Dad sat at the table reading the newspaper, not looking up. “Put the suitcase back and come eat. Claire’s coming over today. Don’t you dare put on that dead-fish face.” Claire. How affectionate. I left the suitcase by the entrance and stood at the door. “I’m not eating. And I don’t want to see her.” Mom slammed down her chopsticks. “Lily! What tantrum are you throwing now? Didn’t we settle everything yesterday?” “Claire already apologized. You signed the understanding. It’s over.” “How can you be so petty?” “Petty?” I pointed to my head. “Ms. Rachel, I have a mild concussion.” “My photos are still on her phone, but you took her out for king crab.” “This is your perspective?” Dad threw down his newspaper, his face dark. “You’re spying on us?” “Posting on Instagram is meant to be seen, isn’t it?” “Enough!” Dad stood up, pointing at the door. “You want to leave? Fine! You’ve got spine!” “Once you walk out that door, don’t come back! I’ll act like I never had a daughter!” “Leave your cards, phone, keys—everything!” I pulled the house key from my pocket and tossed it on the shoe cabinet. It made a sharp clinking sound. “You took my phone yesterday.” “I didn’t bring my bank cards—they’re all in the drawer.” “As for this house…” I looked around at the lavishly decorated mansion. “Keep it for Claire. After all, she’s more your blood than I am.” “How dare you!” Mom grabbed the teacup from the table and hurled it at me. It smashed against the doorframe, shards flying, one grazing my cheek. A line of blood seeped out. “And one more thing—don’t ever say you’re doing this for my own good.” “You only love yourselves and that hypocritical facade.” I grabbed the suitcase handle and pushed open the security door. Behind me, Dad roared. “Get out! Let her go! She’ll come crawling back crying in three days!” I didn’t look back. Three days? I’ll never beg you for anything again. Not in this lifetime. The place I found was in an old tenement building in the city’s rundown district. I’d barely set my things down when the tablet buzzed. An unknown FaceTime request. I hesitated, then answered. Claire’s face filled the screen. The background was our living room. She sat in my beanbag chair—the one I never let anyone touch. She held my limited-edition figurine in her hands. “Oh, Lily! Heard you ran away from home?” Her voice was sickeningly sweet. “Ms. Rachel said you have a temper, told me not to bother with you.” “But this figurine is really nice. Ms. Rachel said I could have it. You don’t mind, right?” *Snap.* She snapped it with force. The figurine’s head broke off. She covered her mouth in mock surprise. “Oops, my hand slipped. You’re not mad, are you?” Mom’s voice came from the background: “Claire, don’t worry about that trash. If it’s broken, throw it out. I’ll buy you a new one.” My fingers gripping the tablet turned white. That figurine—I’d saved for half a year to buy it. It was my only comfort in that house. I took a deep breath and smiled at the screen. “I don’t mind.” “Trash deserves trash. Pretty fitting.” “Oh, and that beanbag you’re sitting on? I used to keep a dog. The dog peed on it.” Claire’s face changed. She jumped up. “You’re lying! There was never a dog in the house!” “Believe what you want.” I hung up the video. Staring at the black screen, I slumped onto the dusty floor. My stomach rumbled. The real test was just beginning.

I applied for a leave of absence. The academic advisor looked at my medical report, sighed, and didn’t ask questions. Without a degree, I could only work night shifts at a convenience store and take cheap translation gigs during the day. Three days after leaving home, I came down with a fever. I wanted to go to the hospital, but I only had two hundred dollars left. I forced down tap water and made myself swallow an expired pack of cold medicine. As long as I didn’t die, I’d watch them fall. Two weeks later, I had no choice but to go back to campus. My backpack held my laptop and important documents. I’d just reached the building when a group surrounded me. “Well, well, if it isn’t our prosecutor’s princess!” Claire stood on the steps, looking down at me. She wore a cream-colored cashmere coat—the new one Mom bought in Hong Kong last month. “Why are you dressed like that? Those pants are from a street market, aren’t they?” Claire walked down, reaching out to tug at my sleeve. “Lily, you look pathetic. Ms. Rachel said you were living wild out there. I didn’t believe it.” “Guess it’s true. You can’t even afford decent clothes?” Students around us whispered and pointed. I slapped Claire’s hand away, staring at her. “You stole that coat, didn’t you?” Claire’s face stiffened, then she raised her voice. “What are you talking about! Ms. Rachel lent it to me!” “I have a speech competition—representing the school. Ms. Rachel didn’t want me to freeze.” Her eyes shifted, and suddenly she grabbed my backpack strap. “Wait! I just lost five hundred dollars!” “You must have stolen it! You’re desperate now—you were lurking around me just now!” “Search her! Open the backpack!” Her lackeys immediately surrounded me, jeering. I clutched my backpack tight. “Back off! I didn’t steal anything!” In the scuffle, Claire’s sharp nails raked across the back of my hand. Blood welled up instantly. “What’s going on here!” The dean rushed over with several people. Walking behind them were my parents. They carried thermal containers—clearly coming to bring Claire soup again. Mom rushed over, shoving me aside and pulling Claire into her arms. “Claire, what happened? Are you hurt?” Dad walked up to me. “Lily! How much more are you going to embarrass yourself?” “Coming to school to steal? You’ve disgraced the entire family!” I held up my bleeding hand. “Mr. Sterling, which eye of yours saw me steal?” “Even in court you need evidence. You’re convicting me without even asking?” Dad’s face flushed red. “Then why would Claire accuse you and not someone else?” “You must have sticky fingers!” Claire nestled in Mom’s arms, voice tearful. ” Mr. Sterling, maybe I remembered wrong… but Lily was really mean just now…” “It’s okay. Ms. Rachel will handle this.” Mom glared at me. “Lily, open your backpack. Let everyone check and prove your innocence.” “If you didn’t steal, apologize to Claire and we’ll drop it.” Looking at my parents’ “for your own good” expressions, I couldn’t take it anymore. I yanked the backpack zipper open and turned it upside down. Everything spilled out—books, charger, my old laptop covered in stickers. My worn wallet fell out, containing only a few crumpled bills. “See it clearly? Where’s the five hundred dollars?” My eyes were red as I pointed at my scattered belongings. “Search! Isn’t that what you wanted?” The crowd went silent. Claire shrank back. “Well… maybe I left it in the classroom.” “Just ‘maybe I forgot’ and that’s it?” I stepped closer. “You accused me of theft, violated my privacy—isn’t that bullying?” “Enough!” Dad snapped. He looked at the growing crowd of onlookers, his brow furrowed. He strode over and grabbed my wrist. “Stop making a scene. Get in the car.” He lowered his voice. “If you have something to say, say it at home. Don’t let outsiders laugh at us.” Mom caught on too, explaining to the crowd. “Kids these days—teenage rebellion. Everyone, please disperse.” They flanked me, trying to drag me toward the Audi A6 at the gate. I grabbed the iron railing and held on tight. “I’m not going back! Let go!” Dad hissed in my ear through gritted teeth: “Keep making a scene and I’ll have you committed to a psychiatric hospital!” Psychiatric hospital. For his reputation, he’d lock his own daughter in an asylum. I laughed. “You want to save face?” I took a deep breath and screamed with everything I had: “Help! The prosecutor is trying to kill someone! My own parents are trying to drive their daughter to death!” The crowd froze. Even the security guard at the gate poked his head out. Dad’s face went white. He instinctively released his grip. “You’re insane!” He snarled quietly, veins bulging on his forehead. Mom panicked, trying to maintain her dignified image. “Lily, what are you talking about! When have your parents ever pressured you?” I didn’t give her a chance, pointing at the Audi. “You wanted me in that car to drag me somewhere private and punish me, didn’t you?” “Just like when you forced me to sign that letter of understanding!” “For your reputation, you protected my bully Claire and forced me, the victim, to apologize on my knees!” “Now that I’ve left home, you’re chasing me to school to accuse me of theft?” The murmurs exploded. “What? Letter of understanding?” “Claire’s bullying was real?” Countless eyes turned toward Victor Sterling and Rachel. Dad’s hands trembled. He wanted to lunge at me but seeing all the phones raised around us, he didn’t dare. He stared at me, forcing words through his teeth: “Lily, if you don’t come with me today, I’ll freeze all your accounts. You won’t even be able to afford school!” I laughed coldly and pulled a folding fruit knife from my pocket. “Don’t move.” I pressed the blade against my own throat. The crowd gasped. Mom screamed: “Lily! What are you doing! Put it down!” “Scared?” “You’re not afraid I’ll die—you’re afraid I’ll die here and soil your official robes.” “Victor Sterling, Rachel—listen carefully.” “From today on, I’m severing our parent-child relationship.” “Whatever debt I owed you for raising me was paid in full the day you forced me to sign that letter.” “Now take your daughter and get out!” I pushed the blade forward. The skin broke. Blood trickled down.

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The day I tried on my wedding dress, a strange woman burst into the VIP room and stabbed me without warning. “Stealing my husband and still planning a wedding?” She tore my veil to shreds, her face twisted with a grotesque smile as she splashed acid toward me. The cold blade pierced my shoulder. I collapsed in front of the mirror, crying out in pain. But she grabbed my throat, forcing me to look up: “Ethan Cross is my husband. Who the hell do you think you are? Homewrecker!” Blood stained the pristine white dress. That’s when it hit me. My perfect boyfriend of three years, the man I’d been engaged to, was already married. “What are you staring at? Even if I kill you right now, no one can touch me!” I grabbed my phone with blood-soaked hands and called my sister. “Pick me up at the bridal shop. And tell the Cross family—the wedding’s off.” I was in so much pain I could barely hold my phone. The strapless wedding dress had become a burden. “You crazy bitch, do you even know who I am?” She let out a shrill laugh, her eyes wild with madness: “What, homewreckers think they’re entitled now?” Then she opened a livestream, shoving the camera right into my bloodied face. “Come on, let the whole internet see what a homewrecker looks like! See if you dare steal someone’s man again!” She changed the stream title maliciously to— “Wife Teaches Homewrecker a Lesson Live—Watch Her Get What She Deserves!” In the frame, I slumped helplessly against the shattered mirror. The expensive wedding dress was ruined with blood and filth. My exposed wounds looked horrific. The viewer count skyrocketed. The chat exploded: 【Good! Beat her harder! Homewreckers deserve to die!】 【That woman’s badly injured. Is someone gonna die?】 【Serves her right! You steal someone’s husband, you pay the price!】 I pressed my hand desperately against my shoulder, but blood kept seeping through my fingers. The strapless gown kept sliding down. I had to use my other hand to clutch the neckline, barely keeping myself covered on camera. Behind Vivian White stood two burly men, arms crossed, sneering coldly. I really regretted not bringing bodyguards today. “Help me, please! Someone call the police!” I reached toward the employees huddled by the door. But they just clustered together, pointing and whispering with expressions that said they were enjoying the show. Not one of them dared step forward. The wound hurt so badly my vision went dark, but I bit down hard, refusing to pass out. I forced myself to lift my head and stare into Vivian’s twisted face. “I’m the second daughter of the Sullivan family from New York. If you dare touch me, the Sullivans will never let you go!” Vivian looked like she’d heard the funniest joke in the world. She lifted her foot and kicked viciously at my bleeding wound. “The New York Sullivans? Ha! Never heard of them. Some nobodies!” She ground her heel into the wound. I nearly blacked out from the pain. “My husband is Ethan! The most powerful man in New York. What the hell is your Sullivan family?” She grabbed my hair, pulling the camera close to my pain-whitened face. “You all hear that? This homewrecker’s making up stories to scare people! What Sullivan heiress—laughable!” I curled up on the floor, my wound screaming where she stepped on it. Ethan had been a scholarship student my family sponsored years ago. I thought he was honest and decent. Three years ago, I got engaged to him. We were supposed to get married this year. Instead, I came to try on a wedding dress and discovered his betrayal. Blood and tears mixed together. I laughed. Laughed at myself for being blind enough to raise a venomous snake as my partner. Enduring the burning pain across my face, I used my last ounce of strength to shout at Vivian: “Get me to a hospital right now, and tell Ethan to get his ass here and see me!” Vivian clearly froze for a moment, but quickly turned vicious again. She grabbed my hair in a fist: “Who the hell do you think you are to demand my husband come see you?” “If I die here today,” I gasped through the pain but stared her down, “The first person buried with me will be you! Ethan won’t escape either!” As if provoked, she laughed maniacally: “So what if I kill you? The Cross family can afford to pay for it!” With that, she grabbed the half-empty bottle of acid from the table and splashed it toward my face. The door burst open with a loud BANG! “I’d like to see who dares touch my sister!”

A familiar voice rang out. Relief washed through me as I rasped to Vivian: “My sister’s here. You’re finished!” My sister Madison rushed in. The moment she saw me covered in blood, her face went deathly pale. She rushed over and pulled me into her arms, her voice trembling: “Riley! Don’t be scared. I’m here.” She carefully avoided my wounds, her fingers gently touching where the acid had splashed my face. Her eyes instantly reddened: “I’m sorry. I came too late.” The next second, she jerked her head up, her gaze cutting toward Vivian like a blade, her voice cold enough to freeze: “You’re the one who touched my sister? You’re asking for death!” Vivian burst into exaggerated laughter, as if she’d heard the world’s greatest joke: “Oh my! A whole family of sluts, each one with a bigger mouth than the last! What, planning to teach me a lesson?” She waved the acid bottle arrogantly: “Today I’ll teach you sisters a lesson you’ll never forget!” With that, Vivian hurled the acid at us! Fortunately, my sister’s bodyguard reacted instantly, flashing in front of us. His heavy suit jacket hissed as the acid ate through it. The bodyguards from both sides immediately clashed. The VIP room descended into chaos. But Vivian clearly had more people. Our side gradually lost ground. Frantic, I grabbed my sister’s sleeve: “Madison, is this all the people you brought?” My sister held me tightly, but her voice remained eerily calm: “Don’t worry. Dad’s security team is almost here.” She swept her cold gaze over the arrogant Vivian and her thugs, enunciating each word clearly: “I’d like to see who dares lay a finger on us Sullivan sisters today.” Vivian’s bodyguards had numbers, but they were all show. The few my sister brought were elite special forces veterans—fast and ruthless. In moments, they’d laid out all those burly thugs. Seeing her people sprawled on the floor, Vivian finally panicked. She fumbled for her phone and deliberately put it on speaker. “Honey!” She called out with a sob in her voice, “Some crazy woman’s bullying me! She insists she’s your fiancée and wants to kill me!” After a few seconds of silence, Ethan’s familiar, hypocritical voice came through: “Baby, don’t be scared. What fiancée? You’re the only one I love.” His voice suddenly turned cold: “Stay where you are. I’m on my way. I want to see who’s foolish enough to impersonate Ethan’s fiancée!” I heard every single word crystal clear through the phone. That was definitely Ethan’s voice. I couldn’t be mistaken. Yet he firmly denied having a fiancée, calling that crazy woman “baby” and claiming she was the one he loved most. My heart sank completely. So Vivian had been telling the truth. They’d probably been married behind my back all along. I leaned against my sister, my wound throbbing, but it couldn’t compare to even a fraction of the chill in my heart. Fine. Perfect. I’d wait right here. Wait for Ethan to show up in person and see what lies he could spin. The Sullivan family would never forgive this ungrateful snake. With Ethan’s promise, Vivian’s courage returned. She pointed at me and my sister, shouting to the onlookers: “My husband’s coming! He said himself he doesn’t know any Sullivan second daughter and never got engaged!” She lifted her chin proudly, holding up her phone: “I’m Ethan’s legally married wife! Whoever teaches these shameless sisters a lesson gets a hundred grand from me right now!” Under such a reward, someone’s eyes turned red with greed. A muscular bystander grabbed a chair and swung it at us! “Watch out!” My sister cried out, shielding me with her body. The heavy wooden chair slammed into her head. Blood instantly poured from her temple. She went limp and collapsed into my arms. “Madison!” Looking at her pale face, all the blood in my body rushed to my head. Three years of betrayal, the fury of my sister being injured for me—it all erupted like a volcano. I jerked my hand up and bit down hard, yanking the knife still embedded in my shoulder! The searing pain made my vision go black, but I didn’t care. I charged at Vivian. In her terrified gaze, I drove that blood-soaked knife deep into her stomach!

Vivian let out a pig-like squeal, her whole body arching in pain. I gripped the handle with both hands, using every ounce of strength to push it down, even viciously twisting the blade! “You worthless trash, how dare you hurt me!” Her face went deathly pale, veins bulging on her forehead, but she suddenly kicked me hard in the chest. I’d already lost so much blood. That kick landed with full force, sending me flying backward to slam into the wall. Something sweet rose in my throat, and I spat out blood. Vivian clutched her bleeding stomach, her face contorted as she shrieked: “I’ll add five hundred grand! Whoever kills this bitch gets the money!” Before she finished speaking, a bodyguard charged at me. The same chair that had hit my sister now came crashing down toward my head. “Don’t touch my sister!” My sister found strength from somewhere and lunged forward, wrapping her body around his legs. “Get off!” The bodyguard roared, his elbow slamming down hard on the back of her head. A dull thud. My sister’s body shuddered. She coughed up blood and collapsed, motionless. I threw myself at my sister’s side like a madwoman, holding her body tight, calling out again and again: “Madison! Wake up! Madison!” Two bodyguards rushed up and pinned down my arms. I struggled desperately, my wound tearing open, staining the wedding dress even redder with blood. Vivian staggered over clutching her stomach and ripped open the acid-burned fabric on my shoulder! “Ahhh——!” My whole body convulsed in pain. The rotting flesh was torn away forcefully, blood and tissue fluid streaming down. “Can’t take it already?” Vivian sneered, digging her nails into my wound. “When you were crawling into someone else’s husband’s bed, didn’t you think this day would come?” “Don’t worry, I’ve prepared a special gift for you two!” Vivian’s high heels rained down on me like hail, each kick landing on my most painful wounds. My vision went black. I lost consciousness completely. When I came to, blinding lights made it impossible to open my eyes. I found myself bound to a cold marble table alongside my sister, hands and feet locked in iron chains. Our bodies were covered in sticky raw fish slices, the fishy stench overwhelming. My sister lay beside me, still unconscious, her face bloodless. I struggled desperately, but the chains wouldn’t budge. Gritting through the pain, I shouted my sister’s name: “Madison, you have to hold on. Dad will be here soon. Please don’t fall asleep.” Then I twisted my head and glared at Vivian: “If anything happens to my sister, I will never let you go!” Vivian crossed her legs leisurely and sneered: “Don’t worry. She won’t die.” She suddenly waved her hand. A bodyguard beside her grabbed a huge bucket of ice water and hurled it at my sister! The bone-chilling water mixed with ice chunks slammed into my sister. Her face instantly went deathly pale. She woke with violent trembling. My sister weakly lifted her head, but her gaze remained razor-sharp: “Vivian, do you know who you’re messing with?” Vivian shrieked back, “I don’t care who!” “Wait until my husband gets here. You’ll see who really runs New York!” She sneered, pointing at the raw fish covering us: “But right now, enjoy the gift I prepared for you.”

Vivian yanked open the curtain in front of us. Blinding lights instantly illuminated us. That’s when I realized—we’d been bound in some kind of club, with guests packed in below. “Honored guests!” Vivian announced into a microphone, “Tonight’s grand finale—the Sullivan sisters!” She roughly tore open my ruined wedding dress, exposing my scarred skin: The crowd below erupted in jeering laughter and wolf whistles. Several men wearing gold chains rushed onto the stage first. I twisted desperately. The chains scraped my wrists raw and bloody. “Don’t touch my sister!” I screamed hoarsely, but a yellow-toothed man grabbed my chin. “Scream! The louder the better!” His foul-smelling saliva sprayed on my face as his fingers traced my collarbone. My sister suddenly spoke coldly: “Every inch of skin you touch will become evidence for the Sullivan family to hunt you down.” Just then, my phone rang. Vivian snatched it and triumphantly hit speakerphone. Ethan’s anxious voice immediately came through: “Riley! If you dare touch a hair on Vivian’s head, I’ll never forgive you!” Hearing Ethan defend Vivian on the phone, my heart felt drenched in ice water. This was the man I’d loved with all my heart for three years. The Sullivan family paid for his education, helped build his career. He trampled our sincerity underfoot. In the end, I meant less to him than a stranger. All these years of the Sullivan family’s support—we’d raised a white-eyed wolf. I bit down hard. Blood and tears flowed into my mouth. Fine. Perfect. Since he showed no loyalty, don’t blame me for showing none either. From today on, Riley Sullivan and Ethan—it’s war to the death. “Honey, where are you?” Vivian asked eagerly into the phone. Before she could gloat, Ethan’s terrified voice came through: “Wait! Why do you have Riley’s phone?” “I caught her and taught her a lesson!” Vivian said righteously. “Are you insane?!” Ethan’s voice cracked, “She’s the second daughter of the Sullivan family! Are you trying to destroy me? Let her go right now!” Hearing this, Vivian got angry. She shouted into the phone: “I don’t care about any Sullivan second daughter! You’re the most powerful person to me. Who could be more capable than you? Today I’m teaching her a lesson no matter what!” Furious, she hung up and smashed the phone on the floor. She pulled out a bucket from under the table. As Vivian unscrewed the lid, she rambled on: “Men cheat—it’s normal. Once you’re dead, Ethan will settle down. We can go back to how things were before.” The pungent smell of gasoline instantly filled the air. I shouted in terror: “Vivian, you’re insane! Murder is a capital crime!” “Capital crime?” “Ethan has plenty of money. He’ll clean this up for me. In New York, the Cross family IS the law!” Watching gasoline pour down over us, I forced down my fear and softened my voice: “Vivian, let me and my sister go. We’ll pretend today never happened. I’ll break up with Ethan immediately and never bother you again.” But Vivian wouldn’t listen. She pulled out a lighter, her face twisted with a maniacal smile: “Women’s mouths are full of lies! I’ll only believe it when I watch you die with my own eyes.” The lighter in her hand flicked open with a sharp click, sparking a flame. Just as the flame was about to fall, the club doors crashed open! Through the billowing smoke, my father’s thunderous roar shook the entire venue: “I’d like to see who dares touch my daughters!”

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On the day my wife gave birth to a child for her terminally ill first love, her parents hired ten bodyguards to stand guard outside the delivery room. My mother-in-law held my wife’s hand and sighed. “Vivian, don’t worry. We absolutely won’t let your husband get anywhere near you.” Vivian nodded weakly, her face pale. Seeing that I hadn’t come to cause a scene, she finally breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn’t understand why I couldn’t be more understanding—it was just helping her first love have a child. Watching the nurse cradle the wailing infant, she smiled with relief. She was even willing to let me be the child’s father. But what she didn’t know was that I had just submitted my report to the United Nations. In seven days, I would renounce my citizenship, become a doctor without borders, and never return. The day Vivian was discharged from the hospital, I had just finished the handover procedures at work. As I reached the door, I heard cheerful laughter from inside. “This baby is so beautiful. Those big eyes are just like his father’s.” My mother-in-law cooed at the infant in her arms while Marcus emerged from the kitchen carrying a steaming bowl of chicken soup. “I made this soup myself. You’re still weak, you need to nourish yourself.” He sat by the bed, feeding Vivian with a gentle expression. The scene looked like a harmonious family. My father-in-law held a rattle, grinning from ear to ear. “This child is so lovable, just like his father. Thank goodness he’s not Anderson’s—having a doctor for a father would be such a headache.” My hand tightened on the doorknob. I remembered the first time I met my father-in-law, when he patted my shoulder and said being a doctor was good, that saving lives was an honor for the whole family. He even said he used to be a doctor himself, and if not for injuring his hand during a medical dispute, he wouldn’t have retired early. But now, he was saying doctors didn’t deserve families. I had only been away for advanced training for one year, and this home had already completely shut me out. I lowered my head and smiled bitterly. Vivian and I had been married for three years. She said she was childfree, and I understood how painful childbirth was for women, so I didn’t force her to have children. I still remembered the day I left for overseas training—her eyes were red from crying as she said she couldn’t bear to be apart from me. Throughout that year, we video-called every day to share our lives. Even my colleagues teased us, saying that despite being married for three years, we still acted like young lovers in the honeymoon phase. But just a month ago, I finally managed to request leave and came home. Even after an eight-hour flight, I didn’t complain about being tired. I rushed home, only to find Vivian heavily pregnant, standing beside her first love. My thoughts were pulled back by Marcus’s voice. “Anderson, when did you get back? Why are you standing at the door?” Hearing his words, the others in the room turned to look toward the entrance. When my father-in-law saw the resignation letter in my hand, he frowned deeply. “Why did I ever entrust my daughter to someone like you? What terrible luck. Now you’re quitting your job—are you planning to have us support you?” “Is this how you act as a husband?” My mother-in-law joined in condemning me. “You quit? You couldn’t even handle such a stable job. What else can you do?” “Vivian’s body is precious now. She and the baby need money for everything. If you don’t work, are the three of you supposed to starve?” Hearing this, I found it almost laughable. “Whoever’s wife and child should be supported by him.” “Anderson, what are you saying? How can you be so irresponsible?” Vivian couldn’t hold back anymore. With red-rimmed eyes, she shouted at me. Perhaps from emotional agitation, she clutched her chest and coughed violently. “Three years ago, if Marcus hadn’t saved me from that car accident, I might have died. His parents are gone, and now he’s been diagnosed with terminal cancer. Soon, there won’t be anyone left in this world who remembers him.” “Why do you always have to target him? Do you really think I’m that kind of filthy, disgusting woman?” Marcus helped her catch her breath while turning to look at me. “Anderson, you should say less. I know this is all my fault. I promise I won’t appear in your lives anymore, but don’t let me affect your marriage, okay?” I looked at the four people before me, already united as one front, and felt increasingly ridiculous. So this was what a real family looked like. Just then, Vivian suddenly spoke: “Anderson, my patience has limits. If you dare target Marcus again, don’t bother coming home!” “If you still want to continue this marriage, then settle down. At next week’s party, I can announce in front of our relatives and friends that you’re the child’s father.” Next week? I glanced at the baby already asleep in the stroller. Next week, I would be boarding a plane overseas. But before leaving, I didn’t mind giving them an unforgettable surprise. I nodded without changing expression. “Fine.”

After speaking, without waiting for their reaction, I turned and went to the bedroom to pack. Since I’d decided to leave completely, I didn’t want to leave any trace here. The laughter from the living room seeped through the door. My hands paused slightly as I folded clothes. “Marcus, I want to use your surname for this child. That way, even if he calls someone else ‘dad’ in the future, he’ll always remember you’re his real father.” Even without seeing it, I could imagine the deep affection on Vivian’s face as she said this. My heart had long been torn to shreds by her. I suddenly remembered last month when I rushed home, holding a souvenir I’d bought for Vivian from abroad. But at the doorstep, I saw Vivian and Marcus returning hand-in-hand from a walk. Unlike Vivian’s panicked expression, Marcus looked at me with puzzled eyes and questioned whether I’d come to the wrong door. I said nothing, my gaze fixed on Vivian’s pregnant belly. After eleven months away, my wife was pregnant. No matter what, I couldn’t deceive myself into believing this child was mine. Until Vivian frantically positioned herself in front of Marcus and introduced me. “This is my husband, Anderson.” I thought hearing this would make Marcus back off, but instead, like the man of the house, he invited me to come in and sit. As we passed each other, he spoke in a voice only we could hear. “I heard you’re quite a bit older than me? Then I’ll call you ‘bro.’ After all, your wife is carrying my child.” My chest burned with rage. I couldn’t hold back anymore and punched him hard in the face. I completely lost my rationality. The eleven months of missing Vivian transformed into fury. If there’d been a knife nearby, I might have actually killed this pair of adulterers. A neighbor heard the commotion and called the police. We were all taken to the station, but since it involved domestic matters, the police couldn’t intervene much and just sent us home. As soon as we got home, my in-laws, who’d rushed over, didn’t ask anything—they just berated me. They cursed me for causing such a scene as soon as I returned, making the neighbors laugh at us. They also cursed me for wasting all those years of education, actually resorting to violence, and said they’d never forgive me if something serious happened. Turns out they’d known all along about Vivian and Marcus being together, and even fully supported them. In just one year, Marcus had become the perfect son-in-law in their hearts. Only I had been kept in the dark. My mouth tasted bitter. I felt terrible. Vivian trembled as she walked to my side, trying to take my hand and persuade me. “I never meant to betray you. Marcus isn’t well. The doctor said he has at most six months to live. I couldn’t bear to see him die without even having a child.” “I wanted to discuss it with you before, but you were abroad, and I was afraid you’d worry too much and it would interfere with your studies. I planned to tell you when you came back.” “If you’re willing, can we raise this child together?” Having children—such a major decision—yet she made it sound so trivial. I placed the last piece of clothing in my suitcase. Just then, my mother-in-law pushed the door open. Seeing the suitcase by my feet, she wore an expression that said I was finally being sensible. “Since you haven’t been back, I let Marcus sleep in your room. The study has been converted into a nursery too, so tonight you’ll have to make do on the couch. Or you could go stay in a hotel?” I was truly exhausted and had no energy to go find a hotel. I nodded, planning to make do on the sofa for the night. But deep into the night, the baby’s cries kept coming from the bedroom. I rolled over, about to put in earplugs, when I heard Vivian’s complaining voice. “Can’t you do something about the baby? He keeps crying.” “You’re my baby. Taking care of you is enough. Crying is good for a baby’s lung capacity.” Vivian laughed softly and said “you’re terrible,” followed by a shameless giggle. I pulled the blanket over my head, trying hard to ignore those obscene sounds. But when I closed my eyes, Vivian’s face appeared—how she looked the first time she confessed to me.

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I starved myself on nearly expired bread for a whole month to save money and buy medicine for my “sick” mom. Before I collapsed, I sent her a message: “Mom, I got the medicine. I’m so tired. Going to sleep for a bit.” That sleep became permanent. Only after death did I discover that my entire life had been an all-surveillance “Truman Show.” My billionaire parents sat in their massive control room watching me suffer from stomach cramps. Mom held her wine glass, frowning as she critiqued: “Poor physical constitution. Deduct 10 points.” Dad recorded coldly: “Willpower is acceptable, but doesn’t know how to utilize resources. Deduct 20 points.” They were selecting the sole heir to the family fortune. And I, for “dying too easily,” was judged: Failed. My corpse still lay on the cold floor of my rental apartment, curled in a fetal position. My phone screen glowed with that unread text message. “Mom, I got the medicine. I’m so tired. Going to sleep for a bit.” My soul floated in midair as I stared at that emaciated body. My stomach still twitched faintly—the final memory before starving to death. One month. To scrape together money for that astronomically expensive imported medicine for my mom’s “stomach cancer diagnosis,” I’d cut my only meat dish. I ate only two nearly expired pieces of bread each day. Even my water came from the office cooler. I thought my sacrifice would move heaven itself and bring my mother’s recovery. Instead, I moved myself to death. When I opened my eyes again, I’d been reborn. I floated into an extremely luxurious semicircular hall. Hundreds of high-definition screens covered the walls. The largest one in the center displayed my corpse. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. Two people sat on the leather sofa. The man wore an expensive suit, the woman dripped with jewels. They were my “poverty-stricken,” “terminally ill” parents. At that moment, Mom swirled a glass of blood-red wine in her hand. She looked at my pale face on the screen, her brow deeply furrowed. No tears, no sorrow. Only disgust. “Poor physical constitution. Died after just one month of hunger. [Heir Selection Test – Physical Constitution Dimension] deduct 10 points.” She took a sip of wine, her tone like she was critiquing defective merchandise. Dad held a diamond-encrusted pen, making a mark on a thick evaluation form. “Willpower is acceptable, but doesn’t know how to utilize resources.” “Clearly attractive enough, yet didn’t know to leverage her looks for money. Foolish.” “[Heir Selection Test – Resource Utilization Dimension] deduct 20 points.” I floated above their heads, trembling all over. These were the parents I’d risked my life to save? These were the parents I’d starved for, going without even sanitary pads to support? “Enough, stop watching. Bad luck.” Mom set down her wine glass and pressed the remote. The screen went dark. My corpse disappeared into blackness. “Notify the logistics department to collect the body. Clean it up properly. Don’t let the media find out.” Dad closed the folder and casually tossed it into the trash. “This one’s a write-off. Initiate Plan B.” “Bring Rachel back from abroad. Hopefully she’s smarter than this idiot.” I stared at the folder in the trash. The cover read: “Heir Selection Test: Subject 001—Morgan.” Below it, a red summary line: [Assessment Result: Failed. Total deductions 30 points, zero bonus points. Disposal method: Destroy.]

So I was just a test subject. The star of a reality show called “Heir Selection.” The “destitute home” was a set. The “terminal cancer” was a script. The “devoted relationship” was an act. My twenty years of life had been an absolute joke. A young woman in business attire walked in. It was Natalie, my “distant cousin.” She used to come to my place with such a superior air to “bring warmth,” tossing me a few old clothes. Now she stood respectfully before my parents. “Morgan’s funeral arrangements…” “Don’t mention her again!” Mom cut her off sharply. “A defective product—why bring her up?” “Just find any crematorium, burn her, scatter the ashes in the ocean. Save the space.” Natalie bowed her head. “Yes.” “Oh, that Julian performed well.” Dad suddenly spoke. “He did an excellent job inducing Morgan to save money for medicine. Give him a two hundred thousand dollar bonus.” My eyes flew wide open. Julian. My boyfriend. The man who always held me gently, saying “Morgan, your mother’s illness comes first. We can endure hardship.” The man who watched me eat bread while secretly eating fried chicken in the bathroom. He was an actor too. An “NPC” they’d hired specifically to drain my last drop of blood. “Julian asked if he could participate in Rachel’s test?” Natalie asked carefully. Mom gave a contemptuous laugh. “That kind of pretty boy who only knows how to deceive idiots? Only someone as brainless as Morgan would fall for him.” “Tell him to get lost.” “The White family heir doesn’t need such low-level emotional tests.” I stared at them intently. Hatred surged through my chest like molten lava. Why? Just because you’re rich, you can toy with my life at will? Just because I’m your daughter, I deserve to be your guinea pig for heir selection? I hate them. I hate them so much! If I could do it all again, I would never be that obedient daughter waiting to be slaughtered. I would return every bit of suffering from these twenty years to them—a thousand, ten thousand times over! A violent tearing sensation came from deep within my soul. Everything went black. When I opened my eyes again, I heard familiar coughing. “Cough, cough… Morgan, my stomach condition seems to be getting worse…”

Moldy peeling walls, dim lighting. The air reeked of cheap ointment and old wood. I sat at the paint-chipped wooden table. Half a piece of cold, hard bread sat before me. My phone vibrated. A message from Julian. “Morgan, I heard from the doctor that if your mom doesn’t get that imported medicine, she probably won’t make it past next month.” “I know that medicine is expensive—fifty thousand dollars.” “We’ll save together. I’ll quit smoking, you skip a few lunches. We can scrape it together.” Looking at these familiar words. I laughed. Laughed until tears streamed down my face. I’m back. I’m really back. Back to the day I decided to begin my “hellish economizing.” In my previous life, this message became my death warrant. I looked at that half piece of bread, nausea churning in my stomach. Not from hunger. From disgust. I grabbed the bread and hurled it into the trash. “Morgan? What’s wrong?” From the shabby bedroom came that woman’s weak voice. That was my “good mother,” Betty. The chairwoman of White Group. Right now she was lying on that creaking wooden plank bed, playing the role of a dying peasant woman. I stood up and walked to the door. Through the crack, I saw her quickly stuffing something into her mouth when she thought I wasn’t looking. A piece of imported chocolate. When she noticed me coming in, she moved lightning-fast to shove the chocolate under her pillow. Then switched to an expression of agony. “Morgan, I’m fine… just hurts terribly…” “Don’t worry about me. Better if I just die, stop being a burden to you…” Such great acting. You deserve an Oscar. In my previous life, seeing this scene broke my heart. I would kneel by the bed, crying and swearing to save her, then immediately go sell my blood. But now I leaned against the doorframe, watching her performance with zero expression. “Mom, if it hurts that much, don’t hold it in.” Betty froze. Seemingly unprepared for my calm reaction. “Morgan, the medicine is too expensive… we can’t afford it…” “Can’t afford it?” I curved my lips, my eyes ice-cold. “If we can’t afford medicine, we’ll find another way.” “Mom, didn’t you always teach me that people need to know how to utilize resources?” A flash of confusion crossed Betty’s eyes. This was her critique as an “examiner”—something I shouldn’t know about. But I didn’t give her time to think. “If you’re going to die anyway, why care about dignity?” “Mom, just wait.” “I’m going to get you money.” I turned and left. Behind me came Betty’s slightly panicked voice: “Morgan, where are you going? Don’t do anything rash!” Anything rash? Ridiculous. I just wanted to make this “Truman Show” a bit more exciting.

I walked out of that suffocating rental apartment. The sunlight outside stung my eyes. I felt my pockets. Fifteen dollars total. That was everything I owned. In my previous life, I used those fifteen dollars to buy ten pieces of bread that lasted me a week. This life, I walked straight into a lottery shop. Not to buy lottery tickets, but to borrow a charging cable and mooch some WiFi. I opened my phone and downloaded a streaming app. Registered an account. Name: [Terminal Mother and Devoted Daughter’s Final 30 Days]. The description dripped with pathos: “Destitute home, mother with terminal stomach cancer, no money for medicine.” “To save my mother, I’ll do whatever it takes.” “Please follow and witness a life’s miracle.” I knew my phone was monitored. My every move transmitted in real-time to that massive control room. Right now, my billionaire parents were probably frowning at their screens. “What’s she trying to do?” “Online begging? Too lowbrow. [Heir Selection Test – Strategic Sophistication Dimension] deduct 5 points.” The clear commentary from my previous life floating in the control room hadn’t disappeared with my rebirth. I turned on the camera, pointing it at my face—pale and gaunt from chronic malnutrition. I had to admit, this pitiful appearance was natural clickbait. I didn’t speak. Just quietly let tears fall. Tears dropped one by one onto the screen. That sense of despair, helplessness, brokenness—I portrayed it vividly. After all, I was someone who’d truly died once. This despair didn’t need acting. Soon, viewers entered the stream. “Poor girl.” “Oh my god, that complexion. She’s clearly been starving for a long time.” “Terminal stomach cancer? Real or fake?” “Probably a scammer.” Doubts followed quickly. I wiped my tears, my voice hoarse. “I know everyone doesn’t believe me.” “That’s okay.” “I’ll take you to see my mother right now.” “See where we live, see her writhing in pain on the bed.” “If I’m lying about anything, may I get hit by a car when I leave.” I held up my phone and walked back step by step. Passing a barbecue restaurant. That tempting aroma drilled into my nostrils. I stopped, my throat moving. The viewer count began to skyrocket. “She wants to eat.” “She must be starving.” “Send her money! Let her eat!” Someone sent a gift. I watched the special effects, the corner of my mouth curving imperceptibly. Facing the camera, I shook my head. “No, I can’t eat.” “This money is to save my mother’s life.” “I can still endure.” With that, I resolutely turned and walked away. My retreating figure looked determined yet desolate. The stream exploded. “This is torture!” “That willpower!” “Following! We have to help her!” In the control room. Dad’s pen paused. “Using online public opinion to gain sympathy?” “The method is lowbrow, but the effect is decent.” “This maneuver, [Heir Selection Test – Resource Acquisition Efficiency Dimension] barely earns 5 points.” Bonus points? Dad, you’re too naive. I’m not seeking sympathy. I’m putting you in an impossible position. Back at the rental. I violently pushed open the door. Shoved the camera right into Betty’s face. She was sitting cross-legged, holding that half-eaten chocolate. Seeing me enter with my phone, she froze completely. “Mom!” I let out a piercing wail and rushed over. “Are you delirious from hunger?” “That’s trash you picked up—you can’t eat that!” I snatched the chocolate from her hand and threw it hard on the floor. Then embraced her, sobbing hysterically. “It’s all my fault for being useless! Making you so hungry you’re eating garbage!” “Mom! I’ve failed you!” Betty was stunned. She looked at the imported chocolate on the floor, then at my streaming phone. Her expression instantly became uglier than if she’d eaten excrement. The stream erupted. “What’s that black thing?” “Looks like chocolate?” “Picked from trash? That’s horrible!” “Her mom’s so hungry she’s lost her mind!” “Send money fast! Don’t let them starve to death!” Gift effects filled the screen. I buried myself in Betty’s arms, my whole body shaking with sobs. Only I knew I was actually laughing. Mom, how did that “garbage” imported chocolate taste? Are you satisfied?

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