Category: English

Ever since I was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder three years ago, no one in my family had smiled. My dad, David, was always on the go. After his office job, he’d pick up odd shifts on construction sites to save money for my treatment. My mom, Sarah, not only took care of me but also went to the hospital every day to look after my grandma, who was paralyzed. My five-year-old sister, Chloe, already did most of the chores at home and always watched my mood nervously. Today was Chloe’s sixth birthday. I’d started taking my medication on time a week ago, hoping to be in good spirits to celebrate her birthday. But the moment Mom brought out the cake, my head suddenly began to throb intensely. It was the warning sign of an alter switch. I tugged at Mom’s sleeve, telling her I felt terrible. My usually gentle mom suddenly slapped me hard and locked me in the bathroom. “If you feel so bad, then just die!” “Have I not been good to you? Why do you have to steal Chloe’s attention at a time like this?” “You’re crazy! You’re a lunatic!” Mom screamed hysterically at me, slamming the bathroom door shut. The moment she closed the door, the alter switch began. The part of me that was desperate to die, my alter, One, finally took control.

I was like an observer, only able to watch as One controlled my body. For the past three years, every time One took over, my body would try to die in various ways. Jumping from a window, that was when I was eight. One climbed onto the balcony while Mom and Dad were at the hospital with Grandma. Luckily, Dad came home early and grabbed me, but he fell to the ground, spraining his ankle, and couldn’t get out of bed for half a month. Cutting my wrist, that was last winter. One found a piece of broken glass and made a gash on my wrist. When Mom found me, she cried hysterically, rushing me to the hospital that very night and stayed by my bedside for three days and three nights without closing her eyes. Drowning, that was in the bathtub. One filled it with water and submerged my head. Chloe noticed something was wrong and frantically called Mom, which saved me. One had tried most ways to commit suicide, but my parents always managed to save me. When I opened my eyes, I would often see my parents’ and Chloe’s tear-streaked faces. “Lily, I’m begging you, please don’t try to die again.” “Are you going to harm our whole family until you’re satisfied?” “Are you okay? Dad and Mom are so worried about you.” From then on, every time I felt an alter switch coming, I would take a lot of medication to stay normal. Even if the pills made me dizzy and nauseous, I didn’t want to see my family’s tears again. But this time, I had no more medication. One could finally fulfill his wish. One looked at the eyebrow razor on the vanity, carefully tucking it away. In my mind, I screamed and struggled, trying to regain control of my body. But One’s strength was too great. I was trapped, like in a cage, unable to do anything. Outside, Dad’s confused voice suddenly came through. “Sarah, where’s Lily? Isn’t she coming to celebrate Chloe’s birthday?” Mom’s voice, almost breaking, full of long-suppressed resentment, answered. “She’s pretending to be sick again. Usually, I’d let it slide, but today is Chloe’s birthday.” “I don’t want Chloe’s birthday to be ruined again. She’s never had a proper birthday.” Dad sighed, his voice full of weariness. He told Mom, “Let her cool off then. Her temper needs to be curbed.” “You and I will celebrate Chloe’s birthday. The child has never had a proper birthday since she was little, let’s not disappoint her again.” One laughed at me mockingly in my mind. “See? Mom and Dad don’t love us anymore. Why should we live?” “After that incident, I told you, death is the only escape. But you insisted on enduring for the family until now. Is this the result you wanted?” I wanted to deny him. Mom and Dad clearly loved me! They had sacrificed almost everything for me! But then I remembered Dad’s shoulder injury, Mom’s dark circles under her eyes, and Chloe’s ingratiating smile. To pay for my therapy fees, Dad often worked on construction sites until his lower back gave out, and on rainy days, the pain would almost keep him from getting out of bed. Mom had to take care of Grandma and then come back to care for me, her sick child. She only slept three or four hours a day. To avoid upsetting me, Chloe was always well-behaved and gentle around me. Even at just five years old, she’d learned to wash dishes and do chores. If I died, maybe everyone would be happier. I gave up struggling, letting One turn on the faucet, fill the tub with hot water, and then climb in. Without a moment of hesitation, One used the eyebrow razor to cut my wrist. The wound was deep enough to see bone, and blood instantly flowed out. The water in the tub gradually turned crimson, and my soul felt lighter. This was finally coming to an end. Dad wouldn’t have to put on pain patches every night; he could get a good night’s sleep. Mom wouldn’t have to rush around every day, taking me to doctors. Chloe could finally have a normal childhood. My family would finally be free of me, this “lunatic.” In the last moment before my consciousness completely faded, my original personality switched back. Looking towards the door, I whispered my last words. Mom, Dad, Chloe, I’m sorry. If there’s a next life, I’ll never be a burden to you again.

When I opened my eyes again, I was floating near the dining table at home. Dad was covering Chloe’s eyes, and Mom carefully carried a fruit cake. “Happy 6th Birthday to our darling Chloe!” Chloe opened her eyes and smiled in surprise. “Mom, Dad, I’ve never seen such a beautiful cake!” My eyes welled up instantly. Chloe was still young when I got sick. Because of me, she’d never had a proper birthday growing up. Every birthday, I would have an episode, then be rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. Mom and Dad had no time to spare for her. Come to think of it, this might be the first time Chloe had ever seen a cake. Mom turned her head to wipe away a tear, then cut Chloe a large slice of cake. “Eat more if you like it, Chloe.” But Chloe took the cake and ran straight to the bathroom. She raised her hand and gently knocked on the door, whispering, “Come out and eat cake, Lily! I remember you love sweets the most!” I wrapped my arms around her small body, wanting to tell her. I’m sorry, Chloe. I can’t eat cake anymore. It’s my fault. I’ve brought bad luck to your birthday. But my hand passed right through her body, unable to touch anything. Chloe didn’t get a response for a long time. She walked back dejectedly. “Mom, is Lily mad? She won’t talk to me.” Mom hugged her, a hint of anger in her voice. “Don’t mind her. She just loves to act up and pretend. Haven’t we always saved her from suicide attempts? This time must be fake too.” “Today is your birthday, don’t worry about her.” As Mom spoke, she caught sight of the food Chloe had saved for me on the table. It was food Chloe had specifically asked Mom to make extra for me. Her temper flared up again. She swept the plate of food into the trash can with a clang, and the plate shattered on the floor. “If she doesn’t eat, she doesn’t eat! Don’t let her act like everyone owes her something every day. Haven’t we sacrificed enough already?” I wanted to shout at her, Mom, I wasn’t pretending! I was in so much pain and misery every day, with two voices constantly fighting in my head! I only lived this long for you! I know you sacrificed a lot, that’s why I died, so you wouldn’t have to sacrifice anymore! Chloe looked anxious and flustered, contradicting Mom. “Mom, don’t talk about Lily like that! She’s just sick! She’s always so nice to me.” Dad patted Chloe’s back and told her, “Chloe, your sister can be quite selfish sometimes.” “She’s always thinking about how miserable she is, never caring about what the rest of the family thinks.” “Mom and Dad work so hard to earn money, but Lily just stays immersed in her own world all day.” “Mom and Dad are so tired they can barely straighten their backs, but she just keeps trying to kill herself.” He seemed to have forgotten that I was just a ten-year-old child. Floating in the air, I looked incredulously at Dad, the dad who used to dote on me the most. When I was seven, Mom and Dad left me to play at a neighbor’s house, but the neighbor’s elderly relative did something terrible to me. During those most painful days, my body activated a protective mechanism. Whenever I thought about that day, my consciousness would blur, and One would emerge to re-experience those scenes over and over again. Since then, I developed Dissociative Identity Disorder, and One’s constant desire to die stemmed from that very reason. Dad had knelt beside me back then, crying and saying he was sorry, promising to take care of me for life. Dad, didn’t you say you’d love me forever? Even though I was now a spirit, my heart still ached. Their guilt and love had been worn away by daily exhaustion, leaving only impatience and resentment. I became the sinner who burdened the whole family. I kept Mom and Dad tied down to me every day. My pain, in their eyes, had become an act, a show. Even my death became a means to gain sympathy.

Mom angrily pushed Dad, her voice filled with a mix of anger and pain. “What are you saying? Lily might be a bit delicate, but she’s a poor child too.” As she spoke, Mom’s eyes reddened. “She was only seven back then, and that old pervert… My heart aches, I wanted to tear that bastard apart.” “Later, Lily kept trying to die. I knew she was hurting inside. But today is Chloe’s birthday, we can’t let her act out.” Mom wiped away her tears and lovingly stroked Chloe’s head. “Chloe, you didn’t make a wish when you went to give Lily the cake. Make one now.” Chloe’s childlike face lit up with joy. She closed her eyes and made a sincere wish. “Chloe wants to be with Mom, Dad, and Lily forever.” This sentence pierced Mom’s heart like a needle. Mom suddenly covered her mouth and rushed into the bedroom. I faintly heard her muffled sobs. In those sobs, there was guilt, heartache, and an indescribable helplessness. Dad’s eyes also reddened. He silently put a crown on Chloe’s head and stroked her hair. “Dad promises you, our family will always be together.” I hugged Dad and Chloe, thinking silently to myself. I’m sorry, Chloe, your wish can never come true. But without me, you, Mom, and Dad will be happier. No more worrying about medical bills, no more living in fear, no more living such a tired life. After tucking Chloe into bed, Dad gently called my name from the bathroom door. “Lily, please come out. It’s cold in there. Come out and Dad will make you dinner.” “Don’t you love Dad’s steak the most? Dad will make you a big plate, just for you.” But the only answer was dead silence. Dad, I’m okay. Lily can’t feel the cold anymore. I can’t eat your steak either. Seeing that I didn’t make a sound, Dad went back to the bedroom and quietly asked Mom. “Why did you lock Lily in the bathroom for so long?” “Her mental state is unstable. Maybe we should go check on her?” Mom was silent for a moment, then shook her head. “I didn’t even lock the door. She can come out whenever she wants.” “There’s only an eyebrow razor in the bathroom. How much force would she need to cut her wrist? She’s just a kid, she wouldn’t do it.” “Lily is sick, but we’ve also spoiled her a bit too much. Let her think about it herself.” I stomped my feet in frustration, wanting so badly to tell Mom that I really did cut my wrist with that eyebrow razor. And I wasn’t spoiled, One did it! I was Mom’s good child! Dad finally sighed, no longer insisting. He started discussing the month’s expenses with Mom. This month, my therapy with a private specialist cost almost ten thousand, and Grandma’s medical bills at the hospital were astronomical. Mom covered her face, her sobs escaping her throat in low bursts. “Honey, when will this life end?” “Lily still can’t go to school normally. We’ll have to support her for life. I’m afraid we won’t be able to bear it.” Dad patted Mom’s hand and pulled her into a hug, comforting her. “Since we brought her into this world, we have to be responsible. No matter what, Lily is our child. We didn’t protect her well, so supporting her for life is fine.” “After I finish my shifts at the construction site, I’ll drive for Uber to earn more money. We have to cure Lily, and things will slowly get better.” I looked at Dad’s graying temples and Mom’s tears, and suddenly felt that I shouldn’t have died. Mom and Dad had already included my life in their future. They had planned to support me for life. Mom and Dad loved me, after all. I reached out to wipe away Mom’s tears, but my hand passed through her. Mom, don’t cry. Lily left quietly on her own. You won’t have to worry about me anymore.

That night, Dad stayed up half the night in the living room, constantly glancing towards the bathroom, hoping I would come out. Mom tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep all night. By dawn, the dark circles under her eyes were even heavier. I floated beside them, watching over them all night, my heart a mix of sorrow and bitterness, filled with unspeakable guilt. As dawn just broke, a faint clatter of dishes and forks came from the kitchen. Mom, with bloodshot eyes, stood in front of the stove, making breakfast. It was my favorite bacon and eggs. When I was little and sick, Mom always made this to cheer me up. But since I got sick, Mom hadn’t made it for me in a long time. She made it with extra care. Two strips of bacon, one egg. Just the way I’d mentioned wanting it so many times. It smelled so good. I wished I could eat Mom’s cooking, but I never would again. Carrying a plate of bacon and eggs to the bathroom door, Mom’s voice was hoarse, tinged with compromise. “Lily, stop acting up.” “Mom made you bacon and eggs, it’s hot. Come out and eat before you take your medicine.” “Yesterday, Mom was wrong. I shouldn’t have hit you, shouldn’t have said harsh words.” “Chloe is waiting to play with you. Come out, let’s be good.” Inside the door, there was dead silence, not even a breath. Mom’s patience ran out. Her brows furrowed, and her tone hardened. “Lily, don’t be ungrateful!” “Do you think pretending to be dead will get you sympathy? Haven’t we suffered enough for you?” “Come out now, or I’ll dump this food out and starve you for a day!” She waited for a moment, only the faint sound of wind through the door crack. “This child is really disobedient. After making her food, I still have to take Chloe to kindergarten and go to the hospital to take care of Grandma.” Mom muttered to herself. Just as she was about to turn around, a dull thud came from the living room. Immediately followed by Dad’s muffled groan: “Sarah… my chest… hurts…” Mom’s face changed drastically. She dropped the plate with a clatter at the door and rushed out. I floated over to see Dad clutching his chest, squatting on the floor. His face was pale, and his forehead was covered in cold sweat. I was frantic, but I couldn’t help at all. “David! What’s wrong!” Mom’s voice trembled with panic as she rushed to help him. Dad swayed, almost falling. His fingers dug desperately into his chest. “Pain… can’t breathe…” Mom screamed for Chloe like crazy. “Chloe, quickly call the neighbors! Call 911! Hurry!” Chloe, terrified, cried and stumbled out to knock on the neighbors’ door. The neighbors quickly arrived, helping Dad and frantically dialing 911. Mom stayed by Dad’s side, tears streaming down her face, but she forced herself to remain calm. She pulled out her phone, wanting to call a contact at the hospital first, but her hand was shaking too much to dial accurately. She kept muttering, “Don’t let anything happen, please don’t let anything happen. We still have to raise Lily and Chloe, you can’t be gone…” Within minutes, the ambulance sirens wailed closer. Paramedics rushed in with a stretcher, quickly checking Dad’s blood pressure and attaching electrodes. “Preliminary diagnosis is acute arrhythmia, caused by long-term overwork. He needs to be taken to the hospital immediately!” Hearing that, my heart felt like it was being tightly squeezed by a hand. It’s all my fault! If it weren’t for earning money for my treatment, Dad wouldn’t be working two jobs every day, he wouldn’t be sick. Even in death, I’m still causing them trouble. I’m such a useless child! The paramedics quickly loaded Dad onto the stretcher and pushed him out. Mom stumbled, wanting to follow, but then looked back towards the bathroom. She paused, her mind a mix of urgency and confusion. On one side was her critically ill husband, on the other, her sulking daughter. She gritted her teeth, asked the neighbors to help look after Dad, and turned to run back home. She still couldn’t stop worrying about me, afraid I was hungry, afraid something really happened. Even though she was angry with me just moments ago, what she worried about most was still me. When she got home, it was already bright. Chloe was squatting by the bathroom door. Seeing Mom return, she immediately rushed over. Her small hands tightly clutched Mom’s clothes, her voice choked with tears. “Mom, Lily fell asleep in the bathtub.” “I called her so many times, but she won’t wake up, no matter how much I call.” “She listens to you the most, Mom. Please make her wake up and eat birthday cake with me.”

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I loved Brandon for ten years. Loved him so much I was willing to let him personally remove my memories. He said, “Alice, forget the things that hurt you. Let’s start fresh.” The surgery was a success. I forgot who Scarlett was, forgot why I cried myself to sleep every night. Until I found a hidden compartment in his study. Inside, an entire wall of surveillance screens, all focused on my hospital room. And Scarlett, wearing my nightgown, leaned into his arms, laughing softly. “Brandon, once she’s completely gone, those shares from the Brown family will be ours.” At that moment, my excised hippocampus throbbed violently. I remembered. I was never sick. He was driving me insane, little by little! Brandon pushed the door open. He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Does your head still hurt today?” I shook my head, instinctively leaning into his embrace. In the three months since the surgery, Brandon had been unbelievably good to me. He’d cancel all his business meetings to be there for my rehab, and he’d hold my hand all night when I had nightmares. But there was always this empty void inside me, just a dull ache. “Brandon, did I used to love you a lot?” I suddenly looked up at him. Brandon’s fingers, which were tidying my hair, paused. “Of course.” He smiled, gripping my hand. “You loved me so much you’d do anything for me.” It sounded like a declaration of love. But I inexplicably shivered. Just then, the sound of an engine drifted in from outside the window. A car door opened, and a woman took off her sunglasses, looking up. A sharp pain suddenly stabbed my temple. “Who is she?” I clutched my head in agony. Brandon drew the curtains, his voice flat. “Just someone unimportant. Don’t worry about it.” But that night, I dreamt again. The dream was full of fragmented scenes. A woman’s laughter, Brandon’s cold profile, and my own hysterical crying. I woke up covered in cold sweat. Brandon wasn’t in bed. Against my better judgment, I found myself walking into his study – the one place he never let me enter. The password for the lock was my birthday. I paused, a faint warmth spreading through me. Until I opened the hidden compartment behind the bookshelf. An entire wall of screens lit up. Sixteen feeds, from the bedroom to the bathroom, from the living room to the garden. Three hundred and sixty degrees, no blind spots. And in one of the feeds, Brandon was sitting in a hospital monitoring room, staring expressionlessly at me on the screen. Beside him stood the red-lipped woman from earlier that day. She leaned on his shoulder, her fingers suggestively tracing his Adam’s apple. “How much longer until she completely loses her memory?” The woman asked curiously. Brandon stared at the confused me on the screen, his voice detached. “Soon.” “Once she signs the share transfer agreement, we can send her to a mental institution.” I stumbled backward, knocking over a photo frame on the bookshelf. Inside the frame was a picture of Brandon and me. I was smiling brightly in the photo, but Brandon’s eyes were looking off-camera. I picked up the photo from the floor and instinctively flipped it over. “Scarlett Jensen” was written on the back. When Brandon rushed into the study, I had already turned off the screens. “Alice?” He tried to take my hand. I sharply pulled it back, staring at him warily. “Those cameras… what do they mean?” My voice trembled uncontrollably. Brandon’s face froze. He was silent for a few seconds, then his tone changed when he spoke again. “For your safety. You’ve been prone to self-harm after your surgery. I was worried.” What a perfect excuse. If I hadn’t overheard his conversation with Scarlett, I almost would have believed him. “Who is Scarlett?” I demanded, staring into his eyes. Brandon’s pupils constricted almost imperceptibly. “A business partner.” He shifted his gaze, his voice turning cold. “You don’t need to know.” “But I feel like I know her!” I insisted. “My head hurts so much when I see her.” “That’s a normal post-surgery reaction.” Brandon put on his gentle facade again, reaching out to rub my temple. “Don’t overthink it, Alice. Your most important task right now is to recover.”

After that day, Brandon assigned more people to look after me. Nominally for protection, but in reality, it was surveillance. Even when I went for a walk in the garden, two bodyguards followed me every step of the way. The next time Scarlett came, I didn’t hide. She carried a fruit basket, smiling innocently. “Miss Brown, I heard you were ill, so I came to visit.” I stared at her face, trying to recall any memory. “Did we know each other before?” Scarlett paused in peeling an orange. She looked up at Brandon behind me, her eyes subtly shifting. “Didn’t Brandon tell you? We were college classmates.” Brandon frowned, sharply rebuking her. “Scarlett!” “Oops, I guess I let that slip.” Scarlett covered her mouth with a light laugh, but there was no apology in her eyes. “But Miss Brown is like this now, she probably won’t remember anyway, right?” My nails dug into my palms. At dinner, Brandon tried to feed me soup. I turned my head away, not wanting to look at him. “Throwing a tantrum?” Brandon put down the bowl, a hint of impatience in his voice. I looked at him, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Brandon, if I never remember anything, will you always be this good to me?” He paused. Then he took my hand, kissing it to his lips. “Yes, I’ll take care of you forever.” That night, I dreamt again. This time, a boy appeared in my dream. He stood under a sycamore tree, waving at me. I wanted to walk over, but a pair of large hands gripped me tightly. I turned to see Brandon’s sullen face. “Alice, you shouldn’t remember him.” I woke up, my pillow soaked with tears. Such sweet words. But I knew that his “taking care” was just a pretty way of saying “imprisonment.” Scarlett started coming to the villa frequently. She always chose to come when Brandon wasn’t around. Today, she brought a bottle of perfume, claiming it was Brandon’s favorite scent. Tomorrow, she’d deliver a nightgown, impossibly sexy. “Brandon picked these out.” She didn’t hide anything, smiling as she looked at me. “He was too shy to give them to you directly, so he asked me to.” I looked at the almost transparent lace nightgown in her hand. My stomach churned. “Take it away.” My voice was flat. Scarlett placed the nightgown on the sofa, leaning close to me and lowering her voice. “Alice, is faking amnesia fun?” My breath hitched. “I know you’ve remembered.” She stared into my eyes, triumph sparkling within them. “But what good is remembering? Brandon trusts me now.” She stood up, looking down at me. “Those shares your parents left you, they’ll be ours eventually. As for you?” She paused, her smile brilliant. “I’ve already picked out a mental institution for you. It has a wonderful view.” I grabbed the glass of water from the table and threw it at her. Scarlett shrieked, dodging, but the water splashed her skirt. Just then, Brandon pushed the door open. He saw me holding the glass and Scarlett retreating in disarray. “Alice!” Brandon rushed over, snatched the glass, and smashed it on the floor. Glass shards scattered, cutting my ankle. But he didn’t even look. He turned to help Scarlett. “Are you alright?” Scarlett shook her head, her eyes red-rimmed, but deliberately showed her reddened hand. Brandon’s gaze suddenly turned cold. He looked at me as if I were a strange lunatic. “Apologize!” I stood still, blood dripping from my ankle onto the floor. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” I heard my voice trembling. “She provoked me first.” Brandon released Scarlett, stepping closer to me, one by one. He grabbed my chin, his grip so strong it felt like he might crush my bones. “Alice, you’ve been increasingly disobedient lately.” He leaned close to my ear, his voice so low only I could hear it. “Isn’t it time for a follow-up check-up?”

Hearing those words, I felt an instant chill throughout my body. “I was wrong.” I heard my own voice surrender. “I’m sorry, Miss Jensen.” Scarlett, behind Brandon, gave me a victorious smile. That night, Brandon didn’t return to the bedroom. I stood on the balcony and saw the light in the guest room across the way stay on all night. The curtains weren’t fully closed. Through the gap, I saw two overlapping figures. Scarlett’s nightgown slipped from her shoulder. Brandon’s hand was around her waist. I turned around, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. Moonlight fell on the floor. I suddenly remembered many years ago, Brandon confessing his love to me under the moonlight. He said, “Alice, I’ll love you forever.” The next morning at the breakfast table, Scarlett sat in my usual seat. She was wearing my slippers, using my favorite coffee cup. “Alice, you don’t mind, do you?” She tilted her head, her eyes full of provocation. I looked at Brandon. He was looking down at financial news, as if everything before him had nothing to do with him. “I don’t mind.” I heard my own voice. The housekeeper gave me a new set of cutlery. Halfway through eating, Scarlett suddenly covered her mouth and rushed into the bathroom. I heard retching sounds. Brandon finally put down his newspaper and followed her inside. I sat at the table, continuing to drink my porridge. After a long time, Brandon helped Scarlett out. Scarlett’s face was pale, tears still clinging to her eyelashes. Leaning into his embrace, her voice was delicate. “Brandon, I think I’m pregnant.” The spoon in my hand clattered into my bowl. Brandon looked at me, his eyes complex. “Alice, Scarlett needs rest. For now, please move to the guest room.” Listening to his words, I suddenly laughed. “Brandon, do you still remember why I lost my memory?” He frowned, clearly not expecting me to ask that. “What are you trying to say?” “Three years ago, Scarlett hit me with her car.” I stared into his eyes, speaking each word distinctly. “When I was lying in a pool of blood, where were you?” Brandon’s face changed. “You were celebrating her birthday.” I answered for him, my eyes full of scorn. “You said there was an emergency at work, but you were actually celebrating her birthday.” “I lost my first child in that car accident, but you didn’t even come to the hospital because Scarlett said she was scared and needed you to stay with her.” Scarlett shrieked. “You’re lying! Brandon, she’s crazy, she’s hallucinating again!” Brandon closed his eyes. When he opened them again, there was only cold indifference. “Alice, let the past be the past. What you need now is treatment, not dragging up the past.” “Treatment?” I stood up and walked towards him. “Brandon, tell me, what kind of treatment requires removing the hippocampus? What kind of treatment requires twenty-four-hour surveillance?” “Are you trying to cure me, or are you trying to shut me up forever?” Brandon seized my wrist, his grip so hard it felt like he was crushing my bones. “Enough!” He suddenly roared, his eyes terrifyingly cold. “Look at yourself! Suspicious, aggressive, what’s the difference between you and a crazy person?” I looked at the face of the man I had loved for ten years. Suddenly, he seemed terrifyingly unfamiliar. “You’re right, I am crazy.” “Otherwise, how could I believe that someone who personally sent me into surgery loved me?” Brandon let go. He took a step back, as if he couldn’t bear to look into my eyes. Scarlett seized the opportunity to cling to him, linking her arm through his. “Brandon, my stomach hurts!” Brandon gave me one last look, then helped her turn and go upstairs.

Brandon still made me move to the guest room. The housekeeper carelessly stuffed my belongings into a suitcase. The guest room rarely saw sunlight, and the air was thick with a musty smell. “What, reluctant to leave?” Scarlett leaned against the doorframe. She wore a silk robe, the neckline plunged low, and a suggestive red mark adorned her collarbone. I turned to leave. “What’s the rush?” She blocked my path, lowering her voice. “Alice, guess what Brandon told me last night?” I didn’t answer, just looked at her. “He said once you sign the share transfer agreement, you’ll have an ‘accident’ and fall down the stairs.” My fingers clenched fiercely. “You think I’ll believe that?” “Believe it or not, it’s up to you.” She chuckled, her eyes sparkling with triumph. “But do you know why your surgery was scheduled at St. Mary’s Hospital?” “Because Brandon has controlling shares there. They can write your medical records however they want.” She turned, smiling sweetly at me. “The car accident three years ago? I personally arranged it. Brandon knew all about it, he even helped me delete the dash cam footage.” “You’re lying!” I heard my voice tremble. “Whether I’m lying or not, you know the truth deep down.” She walked back to me, her eyes filled with pity. “Alice, the man you loved for ten years, from beginning to end, only loved your money and the shares your parents left you.” “His pursuit, his marriage, his tenderness – it was all an act.” I staggered backward. A sharp pain shot through my hippocampus. Fragmented images flooded my mind uncontrollably. The necklace Brandon gave me on our anniversary, with a miniature listening device hidden in its pendant. The “vitamins” he gently coaxed me to take, which were actually drugs slowly damaging my nerves. … “Remembered now?” Scarlett’s voice pulled me back to reality. “Too bad, remembering won’t help. In everyone’s eyes now, you’re just a lunatic. Who would believe anything you say?” The sound of a car engine drifted up from downstairs. Brandon was back. Scarlett immediately put on a fragile expression. She quickly walked to the top of the stairs, then suddenly “slipped.” “Ah!” With a shriek, she tumbled down the stairs. “Scarlett!” Brandon rushed through the door, his eyes bloodshot at the sight. He ran over, scooped up Scarlett, and looked up at me, glaring. “It wasn’t me. She fell by herself.” “Enough!” Brandon roared, taking the stairs in a few strides and grabbing my throat. “Alice, I really regret not letting you die on the operating table!” He gritted his teeth, his fingers tightening. From behind, Scarlett’s wail pierced the air. He hastily let me go and rushed her to the hospital. Watching his anxious departure, my heart was suddenly devoid of any love. I walked back to the bedroom and locked the door. Then, from the bottom of my closet, I pulled out a metal box. I had hidden it before my surgery. Inside was an old phone, a bank card, and a photo. The photo was of me and the boy under the sycamore tree. On the back was a small line of text: “Alice, if you ever get lost, remember to come home — Liam!” Seeing the name, I trembled all over. I remembered everything. He was the only one who reached out to me when Brandon abandoned me. I turned on the old phone; the battery was on its last bar. There was only one number in the contacts. My trembling fingers pressed the dial button. The waiting tone rang three times, then connected. “Hello?” I covered my mouth, afraid I would cry out. “Liam, come get me.” Silence on the other end for two seconds. Then, an urgent voice. “Send me your location. Wait for me!”

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Everyone in New York knew I loved Liam. Loved him for ten years. When I was adopted at seven, I followed him everywhere. Everyone just assumed I’d be his wife. But that man… he killed me once. Reborn to the night he drugged me, I didn’t cry and give myself to him again. Instead, I picked up my phone and called his precious first love, Stella. Ten minutes later, I watched Stella rush into the room and turned to leave. The shredder devoured ten years of love letters. A music box shattered at his feet. A platinum necklace disappeared down the drain. One by one, I destroyed every gift he’d ever given me. Until on his wedding day, I left a note. “Wishing you happiness, and goodbye..” He thought I was just throwing a tantrum. But when he returned from his honeymoon, he found out. I’d canceled my phone number, blocked him on all my accounts, and vanished without a trace. A year later, he knelt before me, eyes red, begging me to come back. I looked at him and smiled. “Liam, what makes you think I’d want a man who killed me once?”

Clara POV Everyone in New York knew I loved Liam Sterling. For ten years. When his family adopted me at seven, I started following him everywhere. Everyone just assumed I’d be his wife. But Liam, the very man I loved, killed me once. “Quick, say hi to Stella.” His hot breath on my neck, his voice rasping close to my ear. I opened my eyes. In my vision, Liam’s eyes were bloodshot, his desire fueled by drugs, spiraling out of control. He gripped my wrist so hard I thought my bones might shatter. The familiar hotel room. The familiar man. The familiar opening line. I was reborn. Memories of my gruesome death flashed back instantly. The suffocatingly cold basement. The oxygen slowly draining. The searing pain in my lungs. My fingernails scraping against the walls in desperation. Until finally, complete suffocation. The icy grip of death crept from my spine to the top of my head, leaving me cold all over. Liam pulled me harder into his embrace, his body scorching hot, muttering incoherently. “I feel awful…” In my past life, I pitied him. I cried and offered myself to him, becoming his desperate release. In this life… I looked at his dazed face, but I felt nothing. With my other hand, I picked up my phone from the nightstand. Stella was the first contact in my phone book. I tapped “dial.” The call was answered almost instantly. “Hello?” There was a flicker of hidden tension in Stella’s voice. I wasted no words, directly stating the address. “Cloud Nine Hotel, Room 1808.” With that, I hung up. Liam seemed to sense my withdrawal. His grip tightened, trying to pin me completely beneath him. I pulled away from his hand, rolled off the bed, and stood up. I straightened my slightly disheveled collar, then turned to face the man on the bed, tormented by desire. “Liam, your woman will be here in ten minutes.” I said, then walked towards the door. “Clara!” From behind me, his name ripped through his clenched teeth, filled with uncontrolled fury. I didn’t look back. My hand found the doorknob, twisted it, and pulled the door open. The door slammed shut, cutting off that consuming gaze. I didn’t leave. Instead, I leaned against the wall next to the door, waiting quietly. Ten minutes, precisely. The elevator doors opened, and Stella, dressed in a white dress, hurried out. Seeing me standing at the door, she paused, then her eyes, like searchlights, scanned me from head to toe. She stopped in front of the door, then turned her head to look at me. It was the scrutiny of a woman claiming her territory, laced with contempt and dismissal. “You can go now.” Stella’s voice was soft, filled with disdain. “You’re not needed here.” She finished speaking and pushed open the door to Room 1808. Inside, the man’s heavy breathing and a woman’s stifled gasp immediately reached my ears. The door closed again. I turned and walked to my own room. Room 1809, right next door. I didn’t turn on the lights, sitting down in the darkness. The muffled sounds from next door came intermittently, suppressed and unleashed, intertwined, announcing the start of their affair. I listened quietly, my mind calmly replaying the events of my past life. In my past life, I had become Liam’s desperate release. A month later, I was pregnant. Liam gave me a grand wedding. But on our wedding day, he received news of Stella’s death in a car accident. From then on, I became a sinner in his eyes. He believed I had used the child to drive Stella away and caused her death. He started drinking heavily, staying out all night. Each time he returned, reeking of alcohol and longing for another woman, he would look at me coldly, his eyes filled with a hatred that could kill me. Even so, I endured. I thought, once the baby was born, everything would get better. But I never saw that day. On the eve of giving birth, Liam locked me in the basement of the Liam family’s old estate. That place I feared most since childhood – dark, damp, windowless. Through the door, he said to me in a sinister tone. “Clara, Stella is terrified of the dark. Go keep her company.” Then, he drained the oxygen from the basement. I suffocated to death in endless darkness, along with the unborn child. The sounds from next door had stopped at some point. Footsteps echoed in the hallway, the click of heels, then the opening and closing of the elevator doors. Everything returned to silence. I let out a long breath. The suffocating tightness in my chest finally eased. I knew that in this life, everything would be different.

Clara POV The next morning at breakfast, when I came downstairs, Stella was already sitting next to Liam. My seat was now Stella’s. The atmosphere at the dining table was pleasant; the staff served with smiles. Liam took a sip of coffee, tapped his fork against his glass. The sound wasn’t loud, but everyone fell silent. His gaze swept across the room, finally resting on me. His tone was casual, as if announcing a minor detail. “From now on, Stella is my girlfriend.” He paused, then added, “I’m going to marry her.” My hands, holding the fork and knife, didn’t stop. I continued to cut my fried egg. He pointed his fork in my direction, his voice sharpening with a warning. “Especially you, Clara. Be polite to my future wife. Don’t cause me any trouble.” Future wife. My knife scraped the plate, a sharp, grating sound. I looked up and nodded. “I understand, Liam.” I finished everything on my plate, put down my fork and knife, and prepared to leave. “Liam…” Stella, beside him, suddenly had tears welling up in her eyes. Her voice was soft, a tearful sob filled with grievance. “Clara… she… she doesn’t welcome me, does she? If she doesn’t like me, maybe I should just leave…” As she spoke, tears clung to her lashes, as if she’d suffered some great injustice. This, of course, infuriated Liam. “Sit down!” He barked at me, his voice dripping with undisguised fury. “Who told you to leave?” I sat back down as ordered. “Is that how you behave?” He stared at me as if inspecting a flawed product. “Is this how I taught you? Stella will be the lady of this house from now on. Don’t you even know basic etiquette?” I lowered my eyes, saying nothing. I ate this breakfast slower than ever. Half an hour later, my room door was abruptly thrown open, hitting the wall with a loud bang. Liam stormed in, carrying a chill. He slammed the door shut behind him, approaching me step by step, his eyes dark. “Why are you avoiding me?” He stood before me, looking down, “What was that attitude at the breakfast table?” I looked up. “I wasn’t.” He let out a humorless laugh, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look up. “Are you upset? Because of Stella?” His tone held a hint of pathological pleasure, as if my jealousy satisfied some secret vanity of his. I remained silent. My silence completely infuriated him. He let go of my chin, turned to my desk, and roughly pulled open a drawer. He pulled out a thick stack of letters, scattering them across the floor with a flick of his wrist. They were love letters I had written for ten years but never sent. His leather shoe stepped on a letter, the sole grinding over my handwriting. “Clara, you truly disgust me.” He humiliated me word by word, his voice cold as ice. “You know Stella is the only one in my heart, yet you secretly write these things. Do you think I don’t know your intentions? Your secret, hidden love disgusts me!” I looked at the letter under his foot. I had written it when I was sixteen, with a crude drawing of a small figure and “Happy Birthday, Liam” beside it. Liam bent down, leaning close to my ear. His breath brushed my ear, his voice barely a whisper, meant only for us to hear. “Luckily,” he said, “It’s a good thing you didn’t offer yourself to me as an antidote yesterday, or I’d be disgusted for life.” He straightened up, giving me one last look, his eyes filled with undisguised contempt. “You’re not worthy.” He slammed the door shut. I stood there for a long time. Then, I picked up the scattered letters from the floor, one by one. I didn’t read them. I just neatly stacked them and fed them into the shredder under my desk. The shredder hummed, turning ten years of my love into unrecognizable confetti. After doing all that, I reached under my bed and pulled out a dusty handbag. It opened to reveal seven items lying silently inside. I took out the first one. It was a pen, engraved with my initials, his sixteenth birthday gift to me. I gripped both ends of the pen, using all my strength. Snap. I snapped the pen cleanly in two. I let go, and the two broken pieces dropped into the nearby trash can.

Clara POV I started preparing to leave. I turned off all the lights in my room, leaving only a desk lamp, and quietly looked up procedures for studying abroad and transferring assets on my tablet. The trust fund my parents left me was my only security. I needed to disappear completely, and quickly, before Liam and Stella got married. To avoid unnecessary trouble, I started coming home late. I would stay at the school library until closing time, then take the last bus home. That day, I returned to the villa and walked towards my room as usual. Pushing open the door, I stopped short. Someone had moved things around in the room. There was an unfamiliar perfume in the air. I took out my phone and saw that Stella had posted an update an hour ago. It was a selfie. In the photo, she lay on a bed, a blanket pulled up to her collarbone, her face flushed. The bedside lamp and wallpaper in the background were all too familiar. It was my room. The caption read: “A million-dollar mattress really is something. I mentioned I wasn’t sleeping well, and he had it replaced for me right away.” I turned off my phone and stood still. Liam emerged from the shadows of the hallway. He seemed to have been waiting for a long time. “You’re back?” His tone was flat, as if speaking of something insignificant. “Stella’s a light sleeper, so I gave her your mattress.” I’d injured my back, and it ached on rainy days. This mattress, he had specially ordered for a million dollars from Germany last year when my back pain flared up. “Anyway, your back pain is gone,” He added lightly. “Anyway, your back doesn’t hurt anymore.” I looked up at him and said nothing. “Mm.” After a long pause, I simply acknowledged him. He took a step closer, his tall figure looming over me, his gaze scrutinizing and suspicious. “You’re suddenly so well-behaved?” He looked down at me. “Don’t you hate it when I’m good to other people? Are you secretly plotting something?” I didn’t back away. I just looked at him. “No.” “I’m warning you, Clara.” He reached out, his index finger almost poking my forehead. “If you dare cause Stella any trouble, I won’t go easy on you!” I looked at him and smiled. Liam snorted coldly and turned to leave. I walked into my room and sat on the bed. The mattress beneath me was cheap; I could clearly feel the uncomfortable springs. I sat there in silence for a long time. Then, I took out a crystal music box. One year, Liam brought it back for me from a business trip to Athens. He said Athens was the city of music, and he hoped my world would always have music. I took the music box, walked to the window, and pushed it open. Below, on the cobblestone path, Liam was walking towards the garage. I let go. The crystal music box arced briefly through the air, then plummeted. A sharp crack echoed in the night. From downstairs, Liam’s angry roar. “Who the hell is throwing things!”

Clara POV A month later, Stella was pregnant. Liam was overjoyed, and the entire Liam household was abuzz with celebration. The staff moved with an air of cheer, their faces beaming with eager smiles. Liam hired the best nutritionist and family doctor, on call 24/7. I left for school and returned on time each day, trying to minimize my encounters with them. That day, I left class early and came home. As soon as I entered the living room, I saw Stella directing the staff to decorate the nursery. “Move that cabinet a little to the left… yes, just like that.” Stella, her belly not yet noticeably large, was bossily giving orders. Her gaze swept over the cabinet in the entryway, where a photo frame sat. “Oh dear.” She gasped. The photo frame slid off the cabinet, falling to the floor, the glass shattering. My steps halted. It was the only photo I had of my parents together. When Liam picked me up from the orphanage at age seven, I was clutching this photo frame. I walked over to pick up the frame. Stella saw me and immediately adopted a startled expression, her eyes instantly reddening. Just then, the front door opened, and Liam walked in. “Liam!” Stella, as if seeing a savior, threw herself into his arms, tearfully accusing Clara. “I… I didn’t mean to… Clara, she deliberately put the photo there to be in the way. I just glanced at it, and it fell on its own… It scared me, and it scared the baby too…” Liam gently soothed Stella in his arms, then looked up at me, his eyes icy cold. He didn’t ask what happened, nor did he look at the shattered photo frame on the floor. His eyes only held anxiety for Stella and the child in her belly. “Stella is pregnant, don’t you know that?” He chastised me sharply. “Apologize to her now!” My fingers tightened around the frame, shards of glass digging into my skin, drawing beads of blood. I looked at Liam. The man who, in this moment, would condemn me without question for another woman and her unborn child, despite my loving him for fifteen years. I nodded. “I’m sorry.” I said to Stella in his arms. “I scared you.” Liam seemed not to have expected me to apologize so easily and froze for a moment. Stella, in his arms, flashed a subtly triumphant smirk. I didn’t look at them again, turning and taking the damaged photo frame upstairs. Back in my room, I tended to the wound on my hand. Then I took out some tape and sat at my desk, meticulously, little by little, repairing my parents’ photo. The man and woman in the photo smiled gently, as if looking at me. Once repaired, I placed the frame back on my nightstand. After doing all that, I opened the handbag and took out the third gift. It was a platinum necklace, with a tiny four-leaf clover pendant. On my eighteenth birthday, Liam had personally put it on me, saying he hoped I’d always be lucky. I took the necklace and walked into the bathroom. Standing by the toilet, I let go of the necklace and pressed the flush button. The swirling water carried the necklace away, deep into the pipes.

Clara POV My preparations for studying abroad went smoothly. I used the trust fund my parents left me as a deposit for my overseas education. I thought I had done everything perfectly. Liam pushed open my room door without warning, a document in his hand, his face somber as he stood in the doorway. “You touched the money your parents left you?” He slammed the document onto my desk. It was a screenshot of an email from a lawyer. My heart sank. I had forgotten that Liam was the trustee for the fund. “A deposit for studying abroad?” Liam stared at me, his eyes sharp. I said nothing. Seeing my silence, Liam suddenly snorted, his tone full of arrogance and mockery. “What, I’m getting married, and you’re so upset you’re running off to ‘clear your head’ abroad?” Liam never once considered that I might be leaving permanently. In his world, I couldn’t live without him. Seeing that I still wouldn’t speak, the mockery slowly faded from Liam’s face, replaced by a softer expression. He walked over, pulled out the chair next to me, and sat down, playing the role of the benevolent guardian. “Clara, stop being difficult.” His tone softened, even carrying a hint of imperceptible coaxing. “Ever since Stella arrived, you’ve been so cold to me. But she’s the woman I love, the wife I’m going to marry.” Liam paused, reaching out to touch my head, but I subtly avoided his hand. His hand froze in mid-air, then he awkwardly withdrew it. “If you truly love me,” He looked at me, saying something that made me feel utterly disgusted. “You should love my wife too.” My stomach churned. Liam’s gaze fell on my desk, where a few small gifts he had given me were displayed. He walked over, as if surveying his spoils of war. He picked up a doll, the first gift he had given me when I first arrived at the Liam household. “See? You’ve kept all these things so well.” He held up the doll, shaking it at me as if showing off. “And you still say you don’t love me?” I looked at the object in his hand, saying nothing. His tone suddenly shifted, the warmth on his face instantly vanishing, becoming cold and stern. “You should put all these things away.” He tossed the doll back onto the desk, his voice impatient. “Stella is pregnant now, her emotions are sensitive. Seeing these things might make her overthink, might upset her.” He looked at me, word by word. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to my wife and son.” I finally looked up at him. “Mm.” I acknowledged him. Then, right in front of him, I picked up the gifts he had given me that were still on the desk, the doll, the remains of the music box, and other odds and ends, one by one, and, without a trace of hesitation, threw them into a storage box in the corner. My movements were decisive. Not a hint of reluctance.

Clara POV Seeing me treat those gifts so roughly, Liam, instead, got anxious. He lunged forward, grabbed my wrist, and snatched a little rabbit hairpin from the storage box. “Clara!” He growled, a tension in his voice he didn’t even realize. “Can’t you be gentler? You broke the little rabbit!” That hairpin was a gift from him on my tenth birthday. I’d cherished it for years. I even still wore it sometimes. I looked at him, at his absurdly angry expression, and found it utterly laughable. He himself told me to put them away. I did exactly that. And now he was furious. Liam seemed to realize his own irrational behavior. He lashed out in embarrassment, letting go of my hand, and began to attack me with even more venomous words. “Are you a drama queen?” He sneered, his eyes full of contempt. “You’re clearly crazy about me. Who are you putting on this act for now?” He stared at me, as if trying to find a single crack in my composure. “Clara, I’m telling you, if you actually manage to forget me, I’ll change my name!” I ignored him. To prove how generous he was, and to remind me who was in control, Liam pulled out his phone and transferred a hundred thousand dollars to me. “Take the money and visit a few countries.” He shoved his phone screen in my face, his voice dripping with condescension. “Come back in a month. By then, Stella’s pregnancy will be stable.” I looked at the “transfer successful” notification on my phone and said nothing. Liam seemed to have finally regained some sense of control. He even thoughtfully gave me a few tips for traveling abroad, which areas had poor security, which seasons had unpredictable weather. Finally, Liam looked at me and said meaningfully, “Have a good time abroad. Don’t miss me too much.” He paused, as if emphasizing his new status. “I’ll be a married man now. You’ll have to adjust.” With that, he turned and left the room. After Liam left, I looked at the storage box. Inside, piled up, were the gifts I had discarded, the ones Liam had then “rescued.” It felt incredibly ironic. I took out the fourth gift. It was a rare poetry collection, with Liam’s signed dedication on the flyleaf: To my love, Clara. I carried the book to the window. Page by page, I tore out the leaves, then let them go. The pages drifted out the window, scattering across the garden below. Next, I took out the fifth gift. It was a brass compass. Liam gave it to me, saying he hoped I’d always find my way home. I took a small hammer from my desk drawer. I placed the compass on the floor, raised the hammer, and smashed down. Again and again. The glass cover cracked. The needle bent. The brass casing was battered beyond recognition. Until it became a pile of unrecognizable pieces. I no longer needed to find my way back to this home. This was never my home.

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After sleeping with my childhood sweetheart once, he insisted on taking responsibility for me. My best friend praised him as a good man. But only I knew that after marriage, he never had sex with me again. He wouldn’t even kiss me. I took the divorce agreement to him, wanting to set him free. Instead, I discovered the porn he kept treasured on his phone—it was footage from the night we first had sex. Turns out he had installed countless hidden cameras at home and was watching me all the time. I never imagined he was that kind of person! And I fucking love it! I immediately threw the divorce agreement into the trash! After sleeping with Ethan Reed once, he said he had to take responsibility for me. We got married. But after the wedding, he never touched me again. I knew he didn’t like me. The morning after, the first thing he did was rush into the bathroom and vomit violently. After throwing up, he showered several times. He thought I was still asleep, but I had woken up long before. He found me dirty—his disgust was plain in his eyes. The only reason he took responsibility… was out of consideration for our childhood-sweetheart history of growing up together. For half a year after marriage, he kept his distance and never touched me. But I have high emotional and physical needs. One time in six months, no kisses, no hugs—I really couldn’t stand it anymore. I didn’t want to make things hard for him, or for myself. There are plenty of men out there—why hang myself on one tree? I went into Ethan’s room and tossed the divorce agreement onto his bed. As I turned to leave, I noticed the phone I had given him. It wasn’t the one he usually used. Curious, I opened it. The screen showed a man and woman naked and tangled together in a highly explicit scene. At first I thought it was regular porn. Then I realized it was me and Ethan. I gasped. He had secretly recorded our first night. In the video, Ethan pinned me against the headboard, his muscles taut and powerful, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead—so damn sexy. I was moaning softly under his teasing, my sounds mixing with his heavy breathing. My face grew hotter, my body burning up. I quickly switched to the next video. It was me on a date with Jake Wade. I fed him food; he bent down to tie my shoelaces but sneaked glances at a big-chested woman behind me. There were also clips of me showering at home, sleeping, even using the toilet. I scrolled through a dozen more—all of them secretly filmed, tracking and watching me. Ethan had been spying on every aspect of my body and my life. I clenched my teeth, slammed the phone down, and picked up the divorce agreement again. I never expected Ethan to be this kind of person. And I fucking love it. Only someone like this can satisfy my high needs. Childhood sweethearts for so many years, yet he pretended to be restrained in front of me. Clearly obsessed with me. I threw the divorce agreement into the trash. I decided to personally peel back the other side of this twisted childhood sweetheart. … That evening, I changed into a black strapless dress, sprayed his cologne, and went to the restaurant. He had originally booked it to celebrate my birthday. At the time I was already planning divorce, so when he invited me out for my birthday, I refused. Ethan, rejected, remained expressionless as always. He stared straight at me for a few seconds, said “Okay,” and walked out. His attitude at that moment only strengthened my resolve to divorce. Who could have guessed that this usually restrained, calm, and rational man was secretly spying on me?

When I arrived at the restaurant, Ethan wasn’t there. Instead, I ran into my ex-boyfriend Jake Wade, Sophie Snow, and a bunch of his good buddies. Seeing me, Jake’s close friend Sam Shaw spoke first. “Lily, birthday with no Jake to keep you company, so you had to come eat all alone? That’s just too pitiful.” Jake glanced at me, then quickly looked away. It was obvious someone had reminded him that today was my birthday. “What’s so strange about it? She’s been on her own since school days. If Jake hadn’t taken pity on her and hung out with her, who would even bother? Always walking around with that cold face like someone owes her millions.” Sophie, arm looped through Jake’s, cut in. Back in school, Sophie had always harbored resentment toward me. She loved messing with people for fun—told Jake to pursue me, then dump me, just to watch me fall apart and enjoy the show. But when Jake actually ended up dating me, she was the one who broke down. After graduation, she became Jake’s secretary, and he couldn’t resist the temptation—he cheated. Jake still wore that same arrogant look. “Lily, you came here on purpose to wait for me, right? Last year for your birthday I brought you to this exact restaurant. Why are you so hung up on it?” He hesitated, then added in a patronizing tone: “Fine. Since it’s your birthday today, come join us and eat. But just this once—don’t wait for me anymore after this.” I ignored him. Seeing Ethan walking toward me from a distance, I smiled. “Who said I was waiting for you? I got tired of you ages ago. I was actually worried I wouldn’t be able to get rid of you—good thing someone else stepped in.” Back when I first realized Sophie and Jake were playing me, I actually felt excited. Getting played while turning the tables on them is way more interesting. I looked up what type Jake liked, acted pitiful and fragile, made him completely addicted to me. Once I had him, it felt boring. When I noticed him getting flirty with Sophie, I quickly broke things off. Afraid that if I waited too long, I wouldn’t be able to dump him. Jake frowned as he watched me walk arm-in-arm with Ethan into the private room. I hadn’t told Ethan I was coming to the dinner, yet he still showed up. While Ethan was ordering food, I deliberately tugged the strapless dress a little lower, making my figure stand out more. “I thought you’d be mad and not show up after I turned you down. Good thing you still came—we really are so in tune with each other.” Ethan’s gaze dropped to my chest for a split second before he awkwardly shifted it back to my face. For one brief moment, I caught a dark, churning shadow rise in the depths of his eyes, but it disappeared in an instant. “I had an appointment to discuss work. I saw you here, so I rescheduled with the other person.” I pressed my lips together. Still pretending. Ethan handed me the birthday gift. It was a very delicate bracelet. I opened it right there and put it on. Ethan said quietly, “It suits you very well.” Then he lowered his head and continued eating. During the meal he mentioned that in two days he’d be going on a business trip for a week and wouldn’t be able to see me, so I should take good care of myself. I smiled inwardly. Isn’t he watching me every single moment already? Suddenly I felt curious—what would happen if I didn’t take good care of myself? After we finished eating and were about to head home, just as I was stepping out, Ethan pulled me back. He draped his suit jacket over me. “You’re dressed very inappropriately today.” I didn’t want to wear it, but his attitude was firm and left no room for argument. He covered up my exposed shoulders completely. Wrapped up tightly like that, I went home. I had thought being in the private room might finally make him show his true colors. Instead, the male waiter next to us looked at me with eyes far more blatant than Ethan’s ever were. Back in my room, I took off Ethan’s suit jacket and stomped on it twice in frustration to vent. Then I noticed my lace underwear fall out of his pocket. My face instantly flushed red-hot. He really knows how to play dangerously!

I stared wide-eyed, hardly able to believe it. Ethan wasn’t just secretly filming me—he was also stealing my intimate clothing. I grabbed his suit jacket along with the lace panties and went to find him. I wanted to see how he would explain this. When I reached his door, it wasn’t fully closed. I heard strange sounds coming from inside, and my name being called. “Lily… Lily…” The voice was deep, sexy, husky. I instantly realized what he was doing. I couldn’t resist peeking through the crack in the door. Ethan was sunk deep into the sofa, shirt unbuttoned and open. His skin flushed with a light pink sheen. My face burned and my heart raced—I didn’t know whether to go in or not. After hesitating for a while, I finally pushed the door open. Ethan saw me and was startled for a split second. Then, face still flushed, he hurriedly paused the video. When he turned to look at me, his usual calm, restrained, almost ascetic expression was back in place. He slowly buttoned his shirt back up perfectly neat. There wasn’t the slightest trace of shame or panic at being caught. “Why didn’t you knock before coming in?” His voice was calm and low. Completely different from how he’d sounded moments ago. “The door wasn’t closed. What were you watching just now? I want to see too.” “Nothing. Just a movie.” “I heard the sounds. It definitely wasn’t a normal movie. Let me watch and learn from it.” “No. It’s not something you should see.” I held the lace panties out in front of him. “Then is this something you should be carrying around in your pocket? If I’m not mistaken, these are mine.” Ethan’s face remained expressionless. “You washed them and they fell on the floor. I picked them up intending to return them to you. Since you’ve seen them, just take them.” “Return them? Then why carry them in your pocket all the time? Besides stealing my underwear, have you stolen anything else?” Ethan lowered his gaze to the floor. “Lily, don’t make trouble out of nothing. I didn’t steal them.” “You didn’t steal them, but you looked at them. These are a girl’s private things. So what’s wrong with me watching a video with you? I can learn from it—might come in handy later.” I sat down on Ethan’s bed, waiting for him to play it for me, while slowly peeling off my stockings. I’d heard men have zero resistance to black stockings. Ethan averted his eyes without a word, then suddenly scooped me up and pushed me out the door. I was so angry I wanted to kick the door down. I’d already sat on his bed and started taking off my stockings, and he still didn’t react. Yet he was willing to get hard watching videos of me. Was the problem with me, or with him? I stared at the closed door and seriously started doubting myself. … Ethan and I grew up as childhood sweethearts. He helped me chase after so many guys. Only after breaking up with Jake did I realize that over all these years, while the people around me kept changing, Ethan was the only one who never left. I wasn’t sure what his feelings for me were. So I told him about my breakup with Jake, wanting to test his reaction. When he heard Jake had cheated on me, he offered to cooperate and pretend to be my boyfriend to make Jake jealous— to make Jake realize my value and come back to win me over. I was furious that he wanted me to reconcile with another man. But I still agreed to his plan. Fake couple turning real isn’t impossible, right? In front of Jake, Ethan would hold my hand while walking, feed me food, wipe my mouth, even kiss the corner of my lips. The kind of nervous excitement I felt with him was something I’d never experienced with any other man. I found the feeling fresh and assumed Ethan liked me too. But the moment Jake was out of sight, he would immediately let go of me, put distance between us, and apologize. His tone was so sincere—it didn’t look like he had any improper thoughts toward me at all. Finally I couldn’t hold back anymore. I asked him to drink with me, planning to confess while drunk. I’d never been timid in front of other men. But with Ethan it was different—I was terrified of rejection. In the heat of the moment I kissed him, and he kissed me back. His voice was hoarse when he said, “I’m sorry.” Then he pressed me down onto the bed. The next day he insisted on taking responsibility, so we got married. After marriage, he treated me very well. He came home early from work. Grocery shopping and cooking were all on him. Whatever I wanted, he bought it. Even things I only glanced at twice and didn’t plan to buy would eventually appear at home. You could say he was extremely good to me. Except he refused to have sex with me. Not even the most basic hugs or kisses.

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On the day of my wedding to Julia, her “best friend” Mike suddenly appeared before me. He held a marriage certificate, his eyes red-rimmed as he said, “Matthew, you have everything. Could you just let me have Julia? She… she’s already registered her marriage with me…” I tossed my wedding ring to the ground, my posture contemptuous. Turning around, I saw the panic in Julia’s eyes. I thought—she must have remembered our contract. If anything went wrong with this wedding, all her assets would become mine. Julia and I had known each other for five years, from a campus romance to marriage. Countless people envied our relationship. Coming from similar family backgrounds, we looked perfectly matched—the ideal couple… I’d heard this so many times I’d stopped counting, but I never took it to heart. Because I knew Julia had someone else in her heart. She and Mike had known each other for ten years—five years longer than me. Strangely, she and Mike always called themselves best friends, as if their bond was so pure it hadn’t been tainted by even a trace of romantic love. Later, they got into the same university, the same major. But for some reason, during her freshman year, Julia pursued me—someone from a completely different department. Back then, I still had some romantic notions about college love. Julia was beautiful, good-tempered, refined and polite. So, after two months of her pursuing me, I agreed. After a week of bliss, I noticed someone extremely suspicious around her. Mike—a decent-looking guy with a tall build. He’d call me “Matthew” while draping his arm over Julia’s shoulders, saying, “Julia, look at you! Finding such a handsome boyfriend so quickly. Got any tricks you could teach me?” Mike was a head taller than Julia. When he draped his arm over her shoulders, his chin naturally came close to the top of her head. The distance between them was intimate. Yet Julia seemed completely accustomed to it, not caring at all. I saw it once, then naturally there was a second time, a third time. I couldn’t understand why Julia would have such an intimate male friend even after getting a boyfriend. At first, I thought I was overthinking it. I brought it up with her privately a few times. What I didn’t expect was Julia’s response, which left me speechless. “Mike and I have been best friends for five or six years. We’ve always been like this. I can’t just distance myself from him because I got a boyfriend—that would be an insult to our pure friendship!” I also confronted Mike. His answer made him seem utterly unreasonable. “What are you talking about? Julia and I have been friends for so many years. How does that become a complicated relationship in your mind? That romantic relationship stuff is only suitable for Julia to have with guys like you!” Mike paused at the end of that statement. Tsk, fine. Your pure friendship—I’m staying out of it. I broke up with Julia soon after.

I’d thought we’d part amicably and never see each other again. Who knew this woman would refuse to accept the breakup no matter what. “Are you crazy? I said breakup—breakup, BREAKUP! Why are you still coming to my building to block me every day?!” “Ha! You blocking me alone would be one thing,” I pointed at Mike and voiced my genuine confusion, “but why are you bringing your so-called best friend? Are you brainless? Can’t think for yourself and need him to come up with ideas for you?” I said all this in one breath without a single pause, showing just how angry I was. Julia pretended to be innocent, scratching her head. “I… I thought since you’re both guys, he’d understand your emotions better, so I…” Mike stood behind her and spoke up: “Yeah, Matthew, please don’t misunderstand Julia…” “Misunderstand what!” I was in gym class at the time. My head got hot and I threw the basketball in my hand straight at Julia. Fate can be truly wonderful sometimes, and unfortunate encounters are no exception. When my parents brought me to apologize to Julia, what a coincidence—the two families actually knew each other. “Matthew! You’ve grown so much. I even held you when you were little. Do you remember me? Mr. Jones.” Turns out my dad and Julia’s dad had been old friends since college. If the Jones family hadn’t gone overseas to start their business, maybe our parents would have thought we might become in-laws! But my mom looked at Mr. Jones strangely. She moved to hide behind my dad, unusually silent. Yet my innocent, naive father didn’t notice at all. After some polite conversation, our parents quickly learned about my relationship with Julia. “Matthew, my daughter isn’t good at expressing herself and doesn’t really know how to maintain a relationship. If she does something that upsets you, you should tell her.” Mr. Jones gently touched Julia’s injured forehead. “Maybe this will teach her a lesson. But—” He changed his tone. “Don’t let anyone else affect your happiness!” I stood in that hospital room with its strong smell of disinfectant, my eyes full of irritation as I stared at Julia grinning foolishly at me. Was I blind back then? Actually thinking she was decent-looking. She really looked just like her dad! I looked at Mr. Jones again. He was dignified and polite, except for his gaze— Like a predator secretly eyeing my mother! That night, I went to my mom’s room to find her. She sat alone in the spacious luxury bedroom, gazing at the moon and silently crying. “Mom, what’s wrong? You didn’t say a word during dinner. That’s not like you.” My dad had gone out to socialize again. Now in this mansion, only I could have a heart-to-heart conversation with my mom. “I’m fine,” Mom wiped away her tears and smiled at me. “Just thinking about some sad things from the past. Don’t worry about me. Go back to bed early. Don’t you have an early class tomorrow?” I took my mother’s hand, my tone gentle. “Mom, I saw everything today. Jones—” The moment I mentioned the surname “Jones,” my mother’s whole body trembled. “Don’t… don’t say anymore!!!” Later, I only left after watching my mother fall asleep.

Julia and I got back together. Under the bizarrely enthusiastic matchmaking of her father. I don’t know if her father said something to her, but Mike started appearing around us less and less. Valentine’s Day arrived. Julia ordered me a huge bouquet of roses. “Thank you!” I naturally wrapped my arm around Julia, then gently kissed her cheek. In the corner of my peripheral vision, Mike was looking in our direction. His lips pressed tight, his eyes red-rimmed. Ha, was he feeling sad watching us from the shadows? My gaze fell on the roses in my hands. I’d told Julia I didn’t like roses. So who liked roses and suggested buying them? “Matthew, I bought two movie tickets for the latest sci-fi blockbuster. Want to go see it?” I cooperatively nodded, my tone gentle: “Sure, you arrange this date however you want.” Julia hugged me happily, smiling like a child. “Matthew, you’re so good to me!” I looked toward where Mike had been standing. He’d turned and left. In the dim theater, Julia went to buy popcorn. I checked the flowers at the front desk. Turning around, I ran into Mike at the corner. Ha, unexpected, yet perfectly reasonable. He was with a group of friends who usually hung out with Julia. “Is this Julia’s boyfriend? He’s gorgeous—like my dream guy!” The group stood opposite us, making a fuss. Mike casually brushed the hair from his forehead. “Matthew, you’re here to see a movie with Julia too? Which showing?” Just then, Julia came back. Both groups compared tickets. What a coincidence—same showing, and our seats were even adjacent. Mike casually took the popcorn from Julia’s hands, then distributed it to the other friends. “We’ll share this popcorn~ The movie’s about to start and we don’t have time to buy any.” The group laughed and walked into the screening room. Julia held the remaining box of popcorn, looking at me cautiously. “Why is Julia looking at me? Let’s go in too. The movie’s starting.” I took her hand and walked inside. The dim lighting hid my eye roll.

I don’t know if it was intentional or coincidence, but Mike’s seat was right next to Julia’s. Mike held the popcorn with a grin. “Hehe, perfect—we can all go to dinner together after the movie.” My gaze drifted vaguely forward. I didn’t want to talk to him. Maybe this movie was the type these people usually liked to watch. By the later part of the film, Julia had gathered with those friends, discussing quietly. And I was yawning from boredom. Seeing them chatting happily, I decided to take a quick nap. Who knew that when I opened my eyes again, even the ending credits had finished playing. Our group walked out. Mike was enthusiastically discussing the plot with Julia. The two got more and more absorbed in conversation, and soon walked far ahead of us. Leaving me with Julia’s friends awkwardly looking at each other behind them. Maybe my silence made everyone think I was upset. Someone searched for jokes to tell me, someone bought me drinks and snacks. “Matthew, don’t take offense. Mike and Julia have known each other so long, their interests and hobbies are pretty similar. Usually when they start talking, they can go on for ages. None of us dare interrupt.” I replied with understanding warmth: “I know. Old friends with a close relationship.” By the time Julia realized she’d left me alone with her friend group, half an hour had passed. She ran back quickly to sincerely apologize. “Matthew, I’m sorry, I—” I waved my hand, cutting off her excuse. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Julia and Mike haven’t seen each other in a while, right? Taking some time to chat is no big deal. I’m not that petty.” I handed the snacks and drinks to the friend group, then intimately linked arms with Julia. “Julia, I’m hungry. Let’s go eat!” I swear, in all my life I’d never used such a gentle tone with anyone. Of course, the effect was excellent! Julia’s face turned completely red. Her friend group was lively, each one quick-witted and never holding back their teasing. Only Mike stood to the side, fists clenched, looking away, not saying a word. Completely different from his talkative, lively demeanor just moments ago.

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On my wedding day, my best friend Marcus sent me a sex tape of him and my wife, Isla. Furious, I ignored Isla’s desperate pleas. I turned and left, moving to another city with my friend Clara. Isla, with her extreme and obsessive personality, was so enraged she put out a global manhunt for us both. In the end, unable to find work, I died sick in a basement apartment. On my deathbed, Marcus looked down at me from above. “Lucas, you’re such a fool. That video I sent you? AI-generated. And you actually believed it?” “Perfect. Now that you’re dead, Isla will only marry me!” He laughed triumphantly. Understanding everything at last, I wanted to slap him, but my arm fell weakly. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn! Seeing that intimate video in front of me again, I truly realized I had been reborn. The embarrassingly explicit sounds echoed in the room. I studied the video carefully and finally spotted what was wrong. Marcus had left too many flaws in his work—he’d even forgotten to remove the AI watermark in the bottom right corner. In my past life, I’d been too angry to notice this crucial detail. Isla thought I’d abandoned her and fallen for Clara. She went after us relentlessly, trying to make me give in. I was stubborn too. Even at death’s door, I refused to yield or even ask her about it. That’s how Marcus found his opening, successfully infiltrating high society and living the life of luxury he craved! Reborn, I would never let him manipulate me again! The wedding proceeded as planned. Under the officiant’s direction, Isla and I exchanged rings and kissed, becoming the focus of everyone’s attention. Below the stage, Marcus watched with such jealousy that his fists clenched tight, his nails digging into his flesh without him even noticing. Seeing the ceremony nearing its end, Marcus couldn’t sit still any longer. The moment I stepped off the stage, Marcus frantically pulled me aside. He said excitedly: “Lucas! You two can’t be together!” “She’s a cheater! You can’t marry her!” “You haven’t signed the marriage certificate yet—break up with her now! Or you’ll regret it later!” He put on a serious expression, acting like he had my best interests at heart. I straightened the hem of my suit jacket and said coolly: “Oh? You know my wife better than I do?” Marcus didn’t catch the sarcasm in my words and continued: “Of course! You’re my best friend. Anyone who wants to marry you has to pass my inspection first, right?” He leaned close and whispered in my ear: “Lucas! You have to believe me! She’s a bad woman!” “Did you watch the video I sent you earlier?” I shook my head with feigned surprise. “Huh? Video? What video?” “I was busy getting married to my wife. I didn’t have time to check my phone.” Hearing this, Marcus looked like he’d had an epiphany. He pulled out his phone from his bag, held it in front of me, and personally opened it for me to see. “Here, watch it now!” “After you see it, you’ll know I’m right!” Just as the video started playing, Isla called out from the doorway. “Honey, you two have been in there long enough, haven’t you?” “Today’s our wedding day. If you stay any longer, I’m going to get jealous!” Her tone was full of playful resentment. I smiled and replied: “Alright, I’ll be right out!” Then I looked at Marcus with a teasing smile and said: “Well, Marcus, I don’t need you recording these private moments for me.” “Isla and I are already quite familiar with each other.” With that, I winked at him and walked toward the door.

Marcus stood frozen in shock at my words. “Wait, how… how can he not tell that’s me and Isla?” He looked at the video again carefully, unable to understand why I could remain so calm after seeing my wife’s alleged cheating video. I walked slowly, reaching the door just in time to hear his words. Seeing his confused expression, I let a cold smile cross my face. Isla was already waiting impatiently at the door. The moment she saw me, she eagerly grabbed my arm and hurried toward the car. I felt her closeness, smelled the faint fragrance that belonged only to her, and said softly: “Isla, let’s go sign our marriage certificate right now, okay?” Marcus’s words had actually reminded me. Isla and I hadn’t officially married legally yet. It would be safer to complete the legal formalities. Isla’s face lit up with joy at these words. She’d asked me countless times to complete the legal registration. She knew I had a female friend I’d grown up with. But because of my friend’s words, I’d always refused her. This was the first time I’d actively suggested it to her. She immediately nodded in agreement. She pulled out her documents and dragged me to city hall, afraid I’d change my mind the next second. She said I was her most beloved treasure, now, in the future, in the next life, for all eternity! After signing the marriage certificate, Isla held the document, excited to post about it on social media. I immediately stopped her. “Don’t post yet. I’ve got a good show I’m waiting to watch!” Though Isla didn’t understand what I meant, she still did as I asked. “Okay, I’ll listen to my husband!” Seeing her obedient appearance, I couldn’t help but kiss her forehead. I must have been out of my mind in my past life! A woman whose heart and eyes were full of me—how could I not have trusted her? This lifetime, I would treat her well and make her the happiest woman in the world! After marriage, Isla treated me wonderfully. After our honeymoon, she went straight to the company to handle business while I slept at home until sunset. Marcus, who’d come by several times without finding me home, finally caught me on a day I woke up at noon. The moment he entered, he couldn’t help but look around the villa’s decorations, his eyes full of ambition. I saw through him but didn’t call him out. I adjusted my loungewear and said casually: “Marcus, married life is pretty comfortable, you know.” “You should hurry up and settle down with someone too.” At these words, Marcus laughed awkwardly, then frowned and scolded: “Lucas! You’re being way too careless!” “You only had a ceremony—you haven’t completed the legal registration yet! How can you move into her house?” “Listen to me! Rich people like Isla are just playing around with you! Don’t get in too deep!” I raised my hand slightly, revealing a large, dazzling diamond ring on my ring finger and a diamond-studded bracelet on my wrist. “Just playing around? She’s investing quite a lot for that, isn’t she?” Marcus’s eyes went straight, nearly drooling with jealousy. He grabbed my hand and urged desperately: “Lucas! I’m your closest friend!” “Would I ever hurt you?” “Listen to me—break up with her as soon as possible!” “Otherwise, when she divorces you and kicks you out with nothing, you’ll only have yourself to cry to!”

I tilted my head in confusion and asked: “Why do you keep badmouthing her?” “I’m very happy now. Shouldn’t you be happy for me?” “Why do you keep cursing me?” I looked at him coldly, and the atmosphere dropped to freezing. Seeing I wouldn’t break up, Marcus’s chest heaved violently with anger. His eyes reddened as he glared at me through gritted teeth. “Lucas! I’ll tell you the truth!” “Isla and I already knew each other! We were already at the point of discussing marriage!” “If I hadn’t fought with her and broken up, do you think you’d have had a chance?” “Isla only loves me. She married you just to make me jealous!” “Otherwise, why would she only have a wedding ceremony with you—making it known to everyone—but not complete the legal registration? Isn’t it just to make me jealous?” Marcus spoke with such vivid detail that if I hadn’t already signed the marriage certificate with Isla, I might have actually believed his lies. Seeing I remained unmoved, Marcus pulled out that intimate video again. He held it in front of me and said triumphantly: “Look! This is proof we were together before!” “We love each other so much. As long as I change my mind, she’ll immediately dump you and throw herself into my arms!” Hearing this, my expression instantly soured. Before, I just thought Marcus was stupid, but now I found him disgusting! I looked at him coldly and said flatly: “Who doesn’t have an embarrassing ex?” “As long as she has me in her heart now, that’s all that matters.” “Besides, if she’d really get back together with you over one sentence, then go ahead and find her yourself!” “Why waste so much effort here telling me all this?” I played along with his story, pretending I believed him. Seeing I believed him, Marcus’s expression softened somewhat. He raised his eyebrows smugly and said: “Fine! You said it yourself—don’t you dare regret it!” “Out of friendship, I wanted to convince you to bow out gracefully!” “Since you don’t know what’s good for you, just wait to be kicked to the curb!” With that, Marcus angrily turned and left. That evening when Isla came home, she heard from the butler about what happened during the day and hugged me with a wronged expression. “Baby~ I swear, from beginning to end, I’ve only had you. I only love you alone.” “I don’t know why your friend would say such things. I haven’t done anything to betray you!” She anxiously tried to prove her innocence, nearly in tears from frustration. I reached out and stroked her head, comforting her with a smile: “Of course I believe my wife~” “That guy just can’t stand seeing me happy. He deliberately wants to break us up.” I buried my head in her shoulder and said softly: “Isla, you have to promise me too—no matter what happens in the future, you’ll believe me, okay?” “Don’t get to know me through other people’s words. If there’s a problem, ask me directly, okay?” In my past life, I fell precisely because of the issue of trust. If I’d trusted Isla just a bit more, perhaps the ending wouldn’t have been like that. This time I didn’t fall for Marcus’s trap, but there’s no guarantee he won’t try to manipulate Isla instead. Hearing my words, Isla nodded firmly and raised her hand to swear to me. “I, Isla, swear to trust Lucas and cherish Lucas for a lifetime!”

I held her hand and said with a smile: “You don’t need to swear. I believe you!” The next day, my phone was blown up with calls. Looking at over a dozen missed calls, I was somewhat dazed and called back. “Mom? What happened?” I thought something had happened at home and immediately got nervous. An angry scolding voice came through the phone. “Lucas! You’ve really gotten bold, haven’t you?” “Breaking up other people’s relationships—I can’t believe you’d do such a thing!” “Having a son like you, I really…” I was completely confused and asked in bewilderment: “Mom, what are you talking about?” “I don’t understand.” My mother laughed coldly. “Hah, you don’t understand? If your friend Marcus hadn’t come crying at our door, I wouldn’t have known what kind of person you are!” Hearing the key word “Marcus,” I immediately understood what was going on. Marcus must have gone to my parents and added fuel to the fire with his version of events. I sighed, wanting to explain. I’d barely started to say “Mom” when I was cut off. “Come home right now. Before you’ve completed the legal procedures, break it off! Don’t go destroying other people’s relationships!” With that, Mom hung up directly, not even giving me a chance to explain. Left with no choice, I could only drive home to explain face-to-face. Just reaching the door, I heard Marcus’s crying coming from inside. “You have to help me!” “I treated Lucas like a real brother, and he stole my girlfriend!” My mother was comforting him nearby: “Don’t worry, I’ve already talked to Lucas.” “I’ll make them break up right away. He won’t compete with you!” When I walked in, this was the scene I saw. Marcus sat on the sofa crying his eyes out, snot and tears everywhere, while my parents handed him tissues and fruit. When he saw me return, a flash of triumph crossed his reddened eyes. My mother saw me and immediately pulled me into the kitchen for a stern lecture. “Lucas! You’re being foolish! Even if Isla is rich, you shouldn’t insert yourself into someone else’s relationship!” I frowned, looking displeased. “I didn’t insert myself. Isla and I had a wedding ceremony, and we married with both sets of parents as witnesses! How is that destroying someone’s relationship?” Seeing I showed no remorse, Mom raised her hand to hit me, but held it in mid-air before lowering it in frustration. “You… if I’d known you’d do this, I would never have agreed to your marriage!” She kept saying I was the third party. I knew Marcus must have brainwashed her. More words would be useless—she wouldn’t believe me anyway. I directly pulled out the marriage certificate from my bag. “Mom, look clearly! Isla and I have completed legal registration. We’re the legal married couple!” “Even if Marcus and Isla dated before, that’s all in the past! Isla’s legal spouse is me now. Stop siding with outsiders, will you?” I thought taking out the marriage certificate would make Mom settle down, but instead she got even angrier. Her face turned iron-blue as she pointed at me and said: “Break up! Break up right now!” I frowned in confusion, wanting to ask why. Mom took a deep breath and pulled out several photos from her pocket. “Marcus has shown proof! These photos… look at them! This is evidence that Isla was with him!”

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The day before our wedding, Mason suddenly demanded I buy him a Mercedes. He looked utterly helpless. “You’re pregnant and can’t work. Buying a new car is just for my job, and to make it easier to take care of you and the baby.” To help me, my mom used all her life savings. But three months after we got married, Mom was diagnosed with stomach cancer. I begged Mason for help, but he refused. “You’re already asking me for money right after getting married!” he said. “You think having my child gives you leverage over me? Honestly, I’m not short on women who’d have my kids!” I worked desperately to earn money, but Mom still passed away. On the way back from the funeral, I overheard Mason talking to a woman. “Turns out poor people are all the same, always calculating,” he said. “I thought Mia was different from other women, but she’s just after my money! I lost the bet. Pick out whatever car you want.” So he’d been pretending to be poor all along. And marrying me was just a bet. But when I finally gave up all hope and turned to leave, he cried and fell to his knees, begging me not to go.

“I told you before, poor people have no genuine feelings!” the woman, Tiffany, said smugly, snuggling into his shoulder. “I just feel bad for you, getting played. She showed her true colors after only three months. How boring.” I couldn’t see Mason’s expression, only that he calmly swiped his card. “A bet’s a bet. I misjudged her this time,” he said. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Mia’s pretty and has a good figure. I’ll just consider it like keeping a call girl for two years. No loss there.” Tiffany couldn’t hide the joy on her face as she pulled Mason into the new car. I knew that car dealership all too well. During the months Mom was sick, I worked there part-time as a mechanic, eagerly taking on every dirty, exhausting job I could find. I was actually coming back now to pack up my things and quit. Watching that flashy, limited-edition Ferrari peel out of the lot, I slowly approached. Sarah, the car salesperson, was still beaming and chattering away. “That’s the son of our city’s richest man!” she said. “Casually dropping millions on a luxury car. I don’t even want to work hard anymore. Marry a guy like that, and you’d instantly save yourself ten years of effort!” I stood there, clutching Mom’s urn, frozen for a long time. Mr. Davies, my supervisor, settled my remaining wages, sighed, and patted my shoulder. “My condolences,” he said. “If you ever want to come back, you’re always welcome here.” Less than two thousand dollars–not enough for even half a day of Mom’s medical bills. Now it was all I had left in the world. I trudged home, completely distraught. My landlord, Mr. Henderson, was waiting at the door. “Mia, you’re two months behind on rent,” he said. “The deposit won’t cover it if you can’t pay up soon.” I forced a weak smile, clutching the cash in my hand. “There’s been an emergency,” I said. “I can’t pay. I’ll move out as soon as possible.” Mr. Henderson’s eyes held a hint of amusement. “Bought a new place?” he asked. “I saw your husband driving a luxury car home the other day. You two certainly keep things under wraps, don’t you?” I lowered my head with a bitter smile, unsure how to explain, just as Mason stepped out of the elevator.

He spotted me, clicked his tongue impatiently, and carelessly tossed his bag at me. Mr. Henderson immediately spoke to Mason. “If you terminate your lease early, the deposit isn’t refundable,” he said. “You’ll also need to pay these two months’ rent. I know you two aren’t short on cash. Don’t make this difficult for me.” After Mr. Henderson finished speaking, Mason shot me a cold glare. “You didn’t pay the rent?” he said. “Waiting for me to bail you out, huh? Mia, do you really have to stoop so low? Your schemes are practically hitting me in the face. Is it really worth it for a little cash?” I replied almost instinctively, “Yes, it is.” My mom’s half-million dollars, saved over a lifetime, was nothing but pocket change to him. Yet that money, or the lack thereof, had literally dragged her to her grave. He scoffed, pulled a wad of cash from his bag, and slapped it hard against my face. “Here, how much do you want?” he said. “I’ll give it to you!” Bills fluttered to the floor. Days ago, I would’ve swallowed my pride and scrambled to pick them up. But now they meant nothing to me. I counted out two months’ rent, handed it to Mr. Henderson, and opened the door to go inside. Mason and I had lived in this apartment for two years; every corner held traces of our life together. My gaze fell on a photo on the wall–two slightly awkward figures, leaning close, smiling radiantly. It was the first photo we’d taken when we first got together. After graduation, in the breakroom of my internship company, he told me he was an intern in another department. I still remembered how his eyes crinkled when he smiled, bright and innocent, claiming he knew nothing and needed my guidance. I couldn’t forget his youthful innocence. He sought me out, and I couldn’t help but fall for him. I truly wanted a good future with him, so I worked desperately, striving for a full-time position, trying to make a stable life for myself in this city. For two years, we supported each other, comforted each other, slowly building our story in this apartment. But now everything had dissolved into thin air. All my hopes for the future were just a rich kid’s elaborate game. A ridiculous feeling spread through my heart. Mason didn’t notice anything different about me and simply sat on the couch. “Satisfied, Mia?” he said. “Finally got your money, feeling good about yourself? Your greed is disgusting. How did you become like this? You used to have some integrity. Think about it, how many times have you asked me for money these past few months? All for a Mercedes, and you completely showed your true colors. Were all your talks about working hard and our future just empty words?” I looked at him. He was different now, dressed in a sharp, tailored suit, his hair meticulously styled. He clearly wasn’t going to keep up the act anymore. The disappointment and helplessness in his eyes pricked at me. I didn’t respond to his accusations, just said faintly, “Let’s get a divorce, Mason.” A strange silence stretched for a long time before Mason suddenly laughed. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?” he said. “To get me to pay that half-million, you’d even lie about your mom having cancer? You know I hate being lied to! Two years wasted. I was clearly blind. If anyone’s getting a divorce, it’s me calling it.” His voice was filled with anger. He pulled a paper from his bag and signed it directly. “Get over here, sign it, and let’s get this done,” he said. “I don’t have time to waste on you.” So he’d been prepared all along.

I carefully placed the paper box containing Mom’s ashes and her photo on the cabinet. Then I walked slowly toward Mason. I took the pen and signed, without hesitation. Out of the corner of his eye, he was eyeing me up and down. I felt nothing but disgust and weariness. After I signed, he scoffed and tossed a bank card onto the floor. “Your money’s all in there, untouched,” he said. “Consider these two years a gift from me. I misjudged you.” I looked back at him, really looked at him. I remembered just a few days ago, when Mom was critically ill, she’d whispered that she wanted to see Mason, to know we were okay. He’d already lost patience with me after I’d begged him for money, but for Mom, I swallowed my pride and called him. It took a whole night to get through, and when he finally picked up, I was met with a torrent of mockery. “Calling for money again?” he said. “What’s the excuse this time?” I suppressed my anger and whispered, “Mom’s not doing well. Could you… just come see her once, let her know we’re okay? That’s all.” Suddenly, a loud laugh erupted on the other end. “Wow, your storytelling has really improved,” he said. “You think I’ll pity you, believe you, and transfer you money now? I’m not a fan of this act. Go practice some more. Next time, come up with something more touching, and maybe I’ll actually fall for it.” The call was disconnected. When I tried to call back, he’d blocked my number. He never came, not even when Mom passed away. I couldn’t forget the last words Mom said to me. She said, “When you have a baby, I won’t be able to help you during your postpartum period. That’s a crucial time for a woman, and I wanted to tell him to treat you well.” “Couples need to understand each other,” she said. “He’s a good boy. You two should live a good life together.” Until her last moment, Mom wanted Mason and me to stay together. But Mom didn’t know that the day after I begged Mason for money, he dragged me to a forced abortion. He said he wouldn’t be threatened by a child and wanted to crush any hopes I had. Right after the abortion, I had no time to rest. Hounded by hospital bills, I worked non-stop odd jobs, day and night. What was he doing then? Partying it up every night with other women? Or venting to his buddies about how I’d supposedly ‘schemed’ against him? I couldn’t even feel angry anymore, only sad and ridiculous. I picked up the card. It held the money Mom had saved her entire life–it was hers, and I needed to get it back. As I picked up the card, Mason let out a disdainful scoff, clearly sneering at my actions. I ignored him, secured the card, and started packing. Half a million dollars–enough to buy Mom a proper urn and a decent burial plot. The thought brought a familiar pang of sadness to my nose, and my eyes welled up. I’d never been one to cry easily. I hadn’t cried while caring for Mom, or even after she passed. Until now, I’d always thought that if I just tried harder, maybe everything would turn around. But the pain had only been delayed. Only now was the reality of Mom’s absence slowly sinking in. Tears slowly streamed down my face, and my hands trembled uncontrollably as I packed. Just then, the doorbell rang. Mason went to open the door, and I looked over. The person was familiar–it was Sarah, the car salesperson from the dealership, the ‘little white flower’ who’d driven away in the new car. I saw her smile at Mason. “Mason, I was worried she might get desperate and pull something crazy,” she said. “Cornered poor people can be terrifying, you know. Is the agreement signed? I’m here to take you home.” Mason’s gaze instantly softened.

“You’re always so thoughtful,” he said. Tiffany looked down and chuckled, then her gaze landed on me. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard Mason talk about you often. I honestly thought you might be different from other lower-class people, but it turns out you’re just a terrible actress, a clumsy liar. Oh, and the ‘dutiful daughter’ act? Now that you have your money back, you can drop it. Go ahead, raise your mom from the dead. Wouldn’t want those ‘unlucky’ words to actually come true, right?” Her mocking tone, her disdainful gaze–the anger coiling in my chest finally snapped. Saying things about me was one thing, but about my mom? I wouldn’t tolerate it. It was almost instinct. My hand flew out, landing a punch squarely on her face. By the time Mason roared, Tiffany was already sprawled on the floor. “Mia, are you crazy?” he yelled. “Did I hit a nerve? Do you even know who you just hit?” Did it matter who she was to the person I was now? I had nothing left to lose. I ignored his threats, dragged Tiffany up, and slapped her hard again. But before I could finish, several burly men in black suits burst through the door and pinned me to the floor. Tiffany scrambled up, looking disheveled, and burst into tears, burrowing into Mason’s arms. “Mason, I’m okay!” she sobbed. “I provoked her on purpose! I already recorded her hitting me with my tiny camera. I can press charges right away!” Pinned to the ground, I couldn’t move an inch, only watch her through gritted teeth. She pulled out a tiny camera from her neckline and gave me a sinister smile. “It’s all recorded now!” she said. “Mason, you *have* to get revenge for me!” Mason stared at me, his face grim. He slowly took off his shoe, patted my face with it mockingly, then swung his hand back. The pain arrived as expected–a harsh, stinging slap. My tears instantly welled up and spilled over. A flicker of regret crossed his eyes, but his gaze was full of disappointment. “I never thought we’d end up like this,” he said. “You were almost there, almost passed my test. But at the last moment, you showed your true colors.” “We did have two years together, and I truly loved you once,” he continued. “This slap is just Tiffany returning the favor. Let’s just part ways. You and I, we’re simply not meant for the same road.” Tiffany, still held back, sounded indignant. “Mason, you’re too soft-hearted!” she said. “That’s why this gold-digger had you wrapped around her finger. Look at her, still unrepentant. If she knew your real identity, she’d probably be on her knees begging to get back with you.” Mason looked down at me, his eyes full of pity, as if he felt sorry for me. Yet in our two years together, he’d never once given me a gift. Instead, I’d been constantly struggling to meet his demands. Maybe that was another part of his ‘test,’ but truly, I owed him nothing. I spoke coldly to Mason. “Is it fun to play with someone’s genuine feelings?” I asked. “In this relationship, I never owed you anything. Maybe I wasn’t ‘good enough’ for a rich heir, but you have no right to insult me.” “From beginning to end, you’re the only one who wronged me.” No sooner had I finished speaking than another angry slap landed. “I wronged you?” he shouted. “I spent two years on you! Do you honestly think those cheap little things you gave me can buy back two years of my youth? You know I’m a rich heir! Do you even comprehend how valuable my time is, someone like you?” Mason’s face flushed crimson with anger, and Tiffany beside him laughed, clearly enjoying the show. “Mason, didn’t I tell you?” she said. “These people are hopelessly unrepentant. You try to give her an inch, and she’ll take a mile.”

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My wife, Chloe, loved to record our intimate moments, especially videos where she played the queen and humiliated me. I initially disagreed, but she’d always plead: “Alex, if you truly love me, can’t you even grant me this one request?” Over three years of marriage, she recorded us over a thousand times. But the moment Liam, the guy she’d always been hung up on, returned to the country, he uploaded my private videos to TikTok. The caption read: [Check out this simp! So embarrassing for a guy!] I demanded a public apology, but he just sneered at me: “Isn’t that Alex? You’re like a dog in the video, now you’re trying to act all high and mighty? A pathetic kept man who whored himself out for status, do you really think you deserve an apology from me?” My hands trembled with anger, ready to call the police, but Chloe snatched my phone, chuckling: “He’s just kidding, Alex. Be a little more laid-back, don’t be so sensitive!” Watching the constantly climbing hot topics on TikTok, I suddenly felt that our three-year relationship had to end.

On TikTok’s trending list, the hashtag #Alex Is A Dog# had been stuck at the top for three whole days. My private videos were viewed, commented on, and reposted by tens of millions. I stared silently at the screen, my fingers mechanically scrolling. After a long while, I took a deep breath and called my lawyer. “Regarding the video infringement.” “Alex, I’m sorry.” The voice on the other end sounded a bit awkward: “Chloe said she’s handling this herself and instructed us not to interfere.” “What does that mean?” “It means we can’t accept any of your requests.” I was silent for two seconds, then said calmly, “Okay, I understand.” I hung up and called three more law firms. The same reply. I sat on the couch, staring at the wedding photo on the coffee table. In the picture, Chloe was nestled in my arms, smiling gently. She’d said, “Alex, I’ll love you forever.” Now, her way of loving me was to have my private videos plastered all over the internet. At eleven PM, Chloe returned. She saw me still on the couch, her brow furrowing slightly: “Not in bed yet?” I didn’t answer, just calmly asked: “What are you planning to do about the videos?” “The PR department is handling it,” she said, taking off her coat, her tone casual. “How are they handling it?” “I’ll issue a statement saying the videos are AI-generated,” she said dismissively, “then get some influencer accounts to clarify, and in a few days, no one will remember.” I looked at her and suddenly laughed: “That’s your solution?” “What else?” she frowned. “What more do you want? It’s just a few videos, right? Didn’t you enjoy playing around in them?” “What do I want?” I repeated softly. “I want Liam to delete the videos and issue a public apology. I want you to give me back my $5 million!” Chloe’s face instantly darkened: “Alex, don’t push your luck.” “Push my luck?” I stared at her, suddenly finding it laughable. Three years of marriage, over a thousand days and nights of what I thought was intimacy. She never saved our memories; she saved her trophies. “Chloe,” my voice trembled with anger, “do you know? What disgusts me most isn’t that my private videos were seen.” She frowned, a flicker of impatience in her eyes: “What are you trying to start now?” I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to slap her: “What disgusts me most is that I’m only now seeing your true colors!” With that, I kicked the bedroom door and turned towards my study. Before I closed the door, her furious shout came from behind: “Alex! Stop right there!” I didn’t look back. The moment I locked the door, I pounded the wall, venting my rage. Then, I opened my phone’s photo album and scrolled to the very bottom. There was an encrypted folder containing photos of Chloe proposing to me. I gently brushed the screen, then deleted them one by one. When I reached the last one, my finger paused. It was our wedding photo. I was in a suit, she in a white gown, standing at the church entrance. She’d said, “Alex, you look so handsome.” I pressed delete, and the wedding photo vanished from the screen.

The next morning, I was woken by noises from the kitchen. Pushing open the guest room door, I saw Chloe’s back as she bustled around the kitchen. I froze. Three years. This was the first time I’d seen her cook. I stood there for a long time. Then the doorbell rang. Through the peephole, I saw Liam standing outside, impatiently ringing the bell. I took a deep breath, gripped the doorknob, and opened the door. “Well, if it isn’t the kept man,” He looked me up and down, sneering, “Up so early, going to serve some sugar mama?” Before I could speak, he walked straight into the kitchen, embracing Chloe from behind. “Chloe, what are you making?” “Breakfast for you,” Chloe’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle. I stood there, my stomach suddenly churning. Her first time cooking was for Liam. I put on my jacket, turning to leave. But Chloe called out to me. “Alex, eat breakfast before you go.” I paused. Staring at the breakfast on the table, I suddenly remembered when we first started dating. Back then, I was just a poor student, but she didn’t mind. I remember the first birthday gift I gave her was a green dress, which I’d saved up for three months working part-time. But after she saw the price tag, she insisted on returning it. She smiled and said: “You are the best gift heaven sent me. Don’t ever waste money on me again.” Back then, I secretly swore that I would earn a lot of money and give her a happy life. But now, the woman who once cared for me had even forgotten I was allergic to eggs. “I’m allergic to eggs,” I said calmly. Chloe’s face instantly flushed, about to explain. But I didn’t stop, walking straight out. At ten AM, I was in my office, processing documents, when a sharp pain flared in my stomach. Just as I pulled open a drawer to find my stomach medicine, the door pushed open. Liam walked in and kicked my desk. “Hey, kept man, Chloe wants to see you.” I looked up at him, my gaze falling on the ID badge on his chest. On Liam’s first day back in the country, Chloe had made him President’s Assistant. A year ago, my mom asked me to arrange for a relative to join the company, but Chloe had repeatedly declined. “What does she want?” I asked calmly. “How should I know?” Liam rolled his eyes. “Anyway, she said to come now.” I endured the stomach pain and walked towards Chloe’s CEO office. Although I had initially founded this company, I had gifted all my shares to Chloe. Pushing open the door, Chloe sat at her desk. “Sit,” she said without looking up. I didn’t sit, just stood and watched her: “What is it?” She finally looked up, her eyes cold: “The video situation has gotten too big. The company’s stock price is affected.” “So?” “So,” she pushed a document across, “the board has decided for you to take some time off.” I picked up the document. It was a suspension notice. “Suspension?” I laughed. “What’s the reason?” “Too much public pressure,” she frowned, looking very impatient: “You need to lay low.” I stared at her, suddenly feeling my stomach ache even more. She had sent the videos to Liam, and Liam had posted them on TikTok. Now, she wanted me to pay for their mistake?! “Okay, fine,” I nodded. “I accept the suspension.” As I turned to leave, she suddenly called out: “Wait.” “Something else?” She hesitated, “Why don’t you take a trip to Greece, clear your head.” Greece. A place I had always wanted to go. When we got married, she said she wanted to honeymoon in Greece. But at that time, the company was just starting, and I hoped we’d go once it stabilized. Later, when the company was stable, she said she didn’t want to go anymore. Now, she suddenly brought up our missed honeymoon. I looked at her and suddenly smiled. “What? You want to get rid of me, afraid I’ll cause trouble at the company? Or are you afraid I’ll get in the way of you and Liam’s little romance?” “You…” “Don’t worry,” I cut her off. “I won’t bother you.” Because it wasn’t worth it. The moment I closed the door, I heard something shatter inside.

I didn’t look back. Returning from Chloe’s office, my workspace had been cleared, and Liam sat in my chair. “You’re back!” I ignored his provocation, just going to the drawer to retrieve my personal items. After taking a cab home, I found the front door password had been changed. I called Chloe. It rang for a long time before she answered. I asked, “The password’s changed?” “Yeah,” she paused, “Liam hasn’t found a suitable place yet, so he’s moving in with us. He thought the old password was hard to remember, so he changed it.” I gripped my phone. Three years ago, when we moved into this house. Chloe had linked her arm through mine, smiling and saying: “Let’s use our wedding anniversary as the password. That way, you’ll never forget.” Now, because Liam said it was hard to remember, she had erased our wedding anniversary. “Anyway, you’re going to Greece for vacation, so changing the password won’t affect you,” she continued on the phone. I took a deep breath: “I can go to Greece, but I’m taking Judy with me.” Judy was my Ragdoll cat, I’d had her for three years, she’d been with us since we got married. The other end of the line was silent for a few seconds. “Judy…” Her voice suddenly became unnatural: “Liam is allergic to cat fur, so I had someone take her to a pet hotel.” “Which pet hotel?” She said, “The one by the complex entrance. Just go to Greece first, we’ll talk when you get back!” I hung up and went directly to the pet store by the complex entrance. “Excuse me, did Chloe board a Ragdoll cat here?” The clerk shook her head: “No, Chloe hasn’t been here in a long time.” I stood there, suddenly feeling a chill run through me. I went to several nearby pet stores, and the replies were all the same. Finally, I went to the vet clinic. The vet saw me, his expression a bit troubled. “Alex, what brings you here?” I went straight to the point: “I’m here to pick up Judy.” The vet’s face changed: “Judy? She…” “What about her?” The vet lowered his head: “When Chloe brought her in, she said the cat was very sick.” I staggered back a step, feeling the whole world spin. “She lied!” my voice trembled uncontrollably. “Judy was fine before I left the house!” The vet didn’t dare to look at me: “Later, Liam came to handle it. He said the cat was too noisy, affecting his rest, and requested euthanasia.” Judy, my cat of three years, was euthanized because she was too noisy. Walking out of the vet clinic in a daze, I took out my phone and called Chloe: “Judy is dead!” The other end was silent for a long time. “Alex!” She finally spoke, her voice somewhat flustered: “I didn’t know.” “You didn’t know?” I cut her off: “Didn’t know Liam would kill my cat? Or didn’t know I’d find out?” “Chloe, do you know?” “When Judy died, she must have been so scared. She must have wondered why I didn’t come to save her.” With that, I hung up the phone. I stood at the vet clinic entrance, holding Judy’s urn, memories flooding back like a vivid montage. The first day I saw Judy, I had failed in my startup, sitting on the couch, covering my face, silently weeping. When Chloe returned, she held a box in her hand. She smiled and said, “Alex, this is for you.” Inside the box was a tiny Ragdoll kitten. “Her name is Judy,” she said, “I hope she can make you happy.” Later, every time I worked late into the night, Judy would lie on my lap. Every time I was too stressed, she would rub her head against me. Every time Chloe and I argued, she would jump into my arms, as if comforting me. Now, she was gone. Just like my feelings for Chloe. “Judy,” I whispered: “I’m sorry. I didn’t protect you.” I wiped away my tears: “I promise you, I will make those who hurt you pay the price.”

My phone suddenly rang; it was my mom. Her voice, choked with tears, came through: “Alex, I saw the news online.” My nose stung, and my eyes welled up. Mom’s voice was choked but firm: “No matter what happens, your dad and I believe in you.” I took a deep breath: “Mom, I’m fine. Those videos are AI-generated; it’ll be resolved soon.” Mom suddenly said: “If you’re unhappy, just come home. I know starting your own business alone in New York is hard. Your dad and I will always welcome you back.” I stood by the roadside, and tears finally fell. It had been three years. This was the first time I’d cried. In this world, someone still loved me unconditionally. “Okay,” I said softly. I hung up the phone and looked at the wedding ring on my hand. Chloe hadn’t worn hers in a long time. It was time for me to take mine off too. I took a deep breath and removed the ring. Then I called a local delivery service. I put the ring in a parcel box and sent it to Chloe. After the courier left, I went to a hotel. As soon as I entered the room, Chloe’s call came through. I didn’t answer. After it rang three more times, I just turned my phone off. When I turned it back on an hour later, there were 23 missed calls, all from Chloe. And over a dozen text messages: [What does the ring mean?] [Answer the phone!!] [Alex, I’m giving you one last chance] [Fine, then don’t regret it] The last one was sent five minutes ago. I scoffed, a cold laugh escaping me, and with a tap of my finger, deleted her contact. At eight PM, there was furious pounding on the door. “Alex! Open up!” It was Chloe’s voice. I looked through the peephole; she stood at the door, her face dark. “I know you’re in there,” her voice was icy, “Open the door, let’s talk.” I didn’t move. “Alex,” she knocked on the door, “Don’t make me get nasty.” I still didn’t move. “Fine,” she sneered, “You think hiding will solve anything?” “I’m telling you, I’ve frozen your accounts.” “All your money is in my hands.” “Without me, you can’t even afford this hotel!” “Open the door right now, or…” “Or what?” I spoke through the door. She froze for a moment, then grew angrier: “Or you won’t get a single cent!” “Oh,” I said, “Then don’t give it.” “Chloe,” I said softly, “Do you know?” “The one thing I’m never short on is money.” “Alex!” she exploded, “Open the door for me, now!” “You…” “Chloe,” I cut her off, “If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police.” “The police?” she scoffed, “Go ahead! Let’s see who dares to intervene!” I took out my phone and dialed 911. “Hello, I have someone harassing me here.” Before I finished speaking, I heard footsteps outside the door. Then the sound of the elevator closing. I hung up. I opened my laptop and logged into my email. Three years ago, I gave up a Ph.D. opportunity, focusing solely on starting a business to make money for Chloe. My mentor once told me: “Alex, with your abilities, you shouldn’t just be your wife’s assistant. You can always come back.” Now, it was time to go back. I sent an email to Professor Clark: [Professor, is there still a position available for the project you mentioned three years ago?] Then I made a call. “Jeff, can you help me check Chloe’s recent call records?” The other end was silent for a few seconds. “Okay.” Jeff was my college roommate and the champion of a national hacking competition. Back then, I had helped him secure a coveted position at a prestigious research institution. After hanging up, I dialed another number. “Marta, it’s me.” The voice on the other end immediately became excited: “Alex! You finally contacted me!” Marta was a classmate from college, now a partner at a renowned law firm. Back then, I had helped her get established at SKY Group; now it was her turn to help me. “Marta,” my voice was calm, “I need your help.” “Tell me,” she said immediately, “What do you need?” “Help me prepare divorce papers.” The other end was silent for a few seconds. “Alex,” her voice was slightly choked, “You finally came to your senses.” Hanging up, I walked to the window, looking at the distant SKY Group building. Those lights, one of them used to shine for me. Now, I was going to shut them down, one by one.

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A clueless young nurse recently joined our department. Every time I performed a routine gynecological exam on a female patient, she’d stand behind me, covering her mouth and gasping dramatically. She’d ask questions that sounded innocent but shattered my professional integrity: “Why are you swallowing when you’re examining her?” “Oh my gosh, do you really have to reach inside? Why is your finger moving around so much in there?” “That’s so embarrassing! You’re not secretly taking advantage and getting off, are you?!” In my previous life, I tolerated her, assuming she was just ignorant of clinical procedures. I maintained my professionalism even when offended. But my career promotions were inexplicably stalled, year after year. One day, she suddenly posted a photo of me performing a palpation, taken from a highly unflattering angle, in the hospital’s main SnapChat group, tagging me. “Anthony… Even though the patient is under anesthesia, you shouldn’t take advantage and grope around to satisfy yourself!!” With medical malpractice claims running rampant and the entire internet condemning me, I was branded a perverted doctor. Consumed by resentment, I jumped from the hospital building. As my soul plummeted, I actually saw her: She held my core research paper, stolen from my computer, and shamelessly put her own name on it, successfully securing a permanent position and a promotion! It turned out she was constantly slandering me, All to drive me to my death, then legitimately seize my academic achievements! When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she first blushed and asked me why I was taking off a patient’s pants.

“Anthony, why did you take off all her pants?” “That’s way too embarrassing, can’t she at least keep her underwear on?” “Oh my gosh, why do you have to reach inside?” Korina’s overly sweet voice suddenly burst out in the examination room. Filled with feigned horror and exaggerated trembles. The young patient lying on the examination table instantly stiffened, her legs clamping together, her face beet red. She looked at me like I was a lecherous pervert. Korina hid behind the light blue curtain, covering her mouth. Her innocent eyes, adorned with fake eyelashes, fluttered dramatically. “Anthony… I didn’t have to undress like this in my practical classes before.” “Are you trying to… Oh, I shouldn’t say it, it’s so embarrassing.” This scene was all too familiar. The sensation of falling from the tall building snapped me wide awake. I had been reborn! In my previous life, to maintain harmony in the department, I patiently explained that this was standard procedure, even with her slanderous accusations. The result was the patient breaking down on the spot, filing a sexual harassment complaint against me, making it known throughout the entire hospital. Afterward, Korina cried, claiming she was just naive and too pure. This time, I would never swallow my anger in silence. I slammed the instrument in my hand onto the tray, making Korina flinch. “Korina!” I roared. Before I could continue, the female patient on the bed suddenly erupted. She snatched the sheet, wrapping it around her lower body, tears streaming down her face. Pointing at me, she shrieked: “You pervert! Even the nurse says you don’t need to undress me, so why are you making me do it?!” “I’m going to report you! I’m calling the police!” The hallway outside instantly became agitated, with patients and family members in line peeking in. “What’s going on? What happened?” “I heard the doctor was acting perverted, insisting on taking off some young girl’s pants.” “I told you male gynecologists aren’t reliable, it’s disgusting!” “Exactly, if there weren’t any female doctors available, I wouldn’t have booked an appointment with him.” “What kind of man studies gynecology, what are his intentions…” I took a deep breath, about to explain the medical guidelines, when the door to the examination room was suddenly pushed open with a bang. Vice Dean Tony walked in, hands clasped behind his back, his belly protruding. He was followed by several interns eager to watch the drama. Korina, like a startled bird, rushed towards Tony. Her eyes instantly reddened, large tears falling freely. “Dean, Anthony… he yelled at me!” “I just felt a little sorry for that patient having all her pants off.” “I just asked one question, and he threw things and cursed at me…” “And he said… he said he was in charge of this room, and if I couldn’t do the job, I should get out…” Tony naturally caught Korina by the shoulders. His fleshy hand rubbed her shoulder for a moment, then he looked at me with an air of official authority. “Anthony! What’s wrong with you?” “Is this how you treat a colleague? Where is your medical ethics?” “Scaring Korina like this, scaring the patient like this, are you a doctor or a thug?” I coldly watched the despicable duo, working hand in glove. In my previous life, it was Tony who backed Korina. Together, they conspired to block my promotion, and eventually climbed over my dead body. “Vice Dean Tony!” I deliberately emphasized the “Vice.” “According to the Ninth Edition of *Obstetrics and Gynecology*, the bimanual examination protocol requires full exposure of the external genitalia.” “Korina, as a licensed nurse, doesn’t even know this basic common sense?” “She’s screaming and misleading patients, creating doctor-patient conflict.” “This incompetent, overgrown child, I don’t know how she even managed to get into this hospital?!” Tony’s face changed dramatically, the flabby flesh on his face twitching. He hadn’t expected me, usually so mild-mannered and honest, to dare to contradict him in public. “You… you dare be insolent!” “You think you’re in the right? If you can’t even calm a patient’s emotions, how are you fit to be a doctor?” The patient on the bed became even more agitated, crying out: “I’m not getting examined! Your hospital is all in cahoots! I’m going to expose all of you!” Tony immediately put on a fawning expression, bowing and scraping to the patient: “I’m so sorry, so sorry, our management is too lax.” “How about this, today’s examination fees are waived, and I’ll personally arrange for a female specialist to see you.” Turning his head, he glared at me fiercely. “Anthony, given your deplorable attitude today, and the potential suspicion of sexual harassment,” “All your VIP special outpatient clinics this week are canceled!” “Those are for high-end clients, we can’t have someone like you ruining the hospital’s reputation!” “You report to the ER right now and reflect there on what ‘service attitude’ means!” Korina, hiding behind Tony, stuck out her tongue at me and mouthed: [Serves you right]. The surrounding patients and family members pointed and whispered about me. I looked at the chaotic scene in the room, but my mind was clear. Go to the ER? Perfect. If I remembered correctly, this afternoon, the ER would receive a very special patient. She was Mrs. Anderson, the wife of the city’s wealthiest man. In my previous life, she was the key figure who brought Tony to prominence, and then, due to a misdiagnosis, caused his downfall. Only in the previous life, Tony found a scapegoat. This time, I would hold that surgical scalpel myself. “Alright, I’ll go to the ER.”

Three forty-five in the afternoon. The piercing siren of an ambulance grew closer, urgent like death’s own summons. “Quick! Clear the way! Car accident! Closed abdominal injury! Hemorrhagic shock!” The accompanying doctor shouted hoarsely, pushing a stretcher into the hall. On the stretcher, an elegantly dressed middle-aged woman had a face as pale as paper, her abdomen visibly swollen. Blood stained half the sheet, and the blood pressure monitor’s alarm shrieked. Following closely behind was a well-dressed but disheveled middle-aged man – Mr. Anderson, the city’s wealthiest man. He grabbed the doctor’s hand and yelled: “Save her! No matter the cost! You must save her!” I was about to step forward to admit the patient, but a figure moved faster than me. “I’m the Vice Dean! I’ll take this!” Tony had somehow ambled into the ER with Korina. He instantly recognized Anderson and saw the priceless sapphire bracelet on the woman’s wrist. This was an enormous opportunity, the perfect ladder to climb among the powerful. He pushed me aside and rushed to the stretcher, pretending to press the patient’s abdomen. “Korina! Prepare for IV access! Prepare for ultrasound!” Korina, still holding the iced coffee she’d just bought to watch me fail, casually tossed it aside and scurried around after Tony. Though clumsy, her voice was loud. “Oh dear, so much blood! How scary!” “Dean, you’re truly amazing, you spotted the problem right away!” Tony fumbled around on the patient’s stomach a few times, then his face showed a flicker of certainty: “Abdomen rigid as a board, obvious tenderness in the upper left quadrant, this is a classic case of traumatic splenic rupture with severe hemorrhage!” “Quick! Notify General Surgery! Prepare for exploratory laparotomy and splenectomy immediately!” He ordered loudly, adopting the air of a renowned physician. Anderson, hearing a diagnosis, clutched at it like a drowning man: “Okay! Cut it!” “As long as she’s saved, cut whatever you need to!” The surrounding medical staff immediately sprang into action, pushing the stretcher towards the General Surgery operating room. That’s it! In my previous life, this diagnosis had killed her! She didn’t have a splenic rupture! I suddenly lunged forward, gripping the stretcher’s railing tightly, the immense inertia causing the cart to jerk to a halt. “Don’t go to General Surgery!” I shouted loudly, my voice cutting through the clamor. “This isn’t a splenic rupture! This is a ruptured ectopic pregnancy!” “And it’s an interstitial pregnancy rupture!” “She needs to be sent to the Gynecology operating room immediately for uterine horn resection to stop the bleeding!” The entire room fell silent. Tony’s face twitched with rage. He rushed over and grabbed my collar: “Anthony! Are you insane?” “The patient is fifty years old!” “She’s probably already menopausal! How could she be pregnant?” “Are you losing your mind just to steal credit? This is a matter of life and death!” Korina also covered her mouth nearby, shrieking in feigned surprise: “Anthony, you’re just disgusting!” “Earlier in the exam room, you wanted to take off that lady’s pants, and now she’s in shock, and you’re still trying to link it to a female condition?” “Do you only think about *that* area whenever you see a female patient?” Her words were venomous. Anderson’s already anxious face instantly contorted into a snarl. As a man, hearing such words, his anger ignited immediately. “You bastard!” Anderson rushed forward and punched me hard in the face. I staggered backward, tasting blood in my mouth, but I didn’t even bother to wipe it. “Mr. Anderson! Listen to me!” “I’ve observed her vital signs; the abdominal distension is asymmetrical, and there’s a clear mass in the right uterine horn!” “If the bleeding isn’t stopped immediately, she’ll be in mortal danger within five minutes!” I tried to rush back to block the stretcher but was firmly restrained by two ER security guards. “Pull him away! Get this lunatic out of here!” Tony roared. “Don’t let him delay the rescue!” “Anthony, you’re suspended! Get out of my sight!” Korina hid by the stretcher, watching me being dragged away pitifully, a triumphant, malicious smirk playing on her lips. She leaned in close to Anderson, thoughtfully offering him a tissue. “Please don’t be angry, Mr. Anderson. This Anthony has always had a problematic reputation; everyone in our hospital knows it.” “Don’t worry, Tony is an expert, he’ll definitely save your wife.” Anderson shot me a look of disgust and spat on the floor: “Once my wife’s surgery is done, I’ll get my lawyers to destroy you, you quack!” The stretcher rumbled away, and the operating room door slammed shut with a bang. The red light flickered on. I was tossed onto the cold ER floor by the security guards. Around me were the contemptuous stares of patients and their families, and whispered accusations. “Is that the pervert doctor?” “He doesn’t even spare a fifty-year-old, how disgusting.” “Why hasn’t this kind of person been fired yet?” I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and slowly stood up, leaning against the wall. A sense of powerlessness washed over me like a tide. I knew the truth, I wanted to save her. But I was crushed by authority and public opinion. But I didn’t leave. I leaned against the wall outside the operating room, staring intently at that red light. I glanced at my watch. Four fifteen. Ten more minutes. As soon as Tony opened the abdominal cavity and found the spleen perfectly intact, While blood poured into the abdominal cavity. That would be the beginning of his nightmare. And I had to be here. Because a life was at stake. Even if misunderstood, even if beaten. I couldn’t watch her die at the hands of that idiot. This is what it means to be a doctor.

The hallway outside the operating room was deserted, only Mr. Anderson pacing back and forth anxiously. Korina, as the scrub nurse, had also gone in. Tony clearly wanted to give her a share of the credit to help her secure a permanent position. Time ticked by, second by second. Four fifteen. Four twenty. Suddenly, the airtight door of the operating room opened a crack. An anesthesiologist, covered in sweat, rushed out. He yelled frantically at the nurse’s station: “Blood bank! More blood! Type AB blood! Quickly!” Anderson grabbed the anesthesiologist’s arm, his hand trembling: “What’s going on? Aren’t they doing a splenectomy? Why do you need more blood?” The anesthesiologist’s face was pale, his eyes darting away: “The… the bleeding is too massive… can’t find the source of bleeding…” “What do you mean you can’t find the source of bleeding?!” Anderson roared like thunder. Just then, the operating room door opened again. Dr. Miller, the Director, arrived hurriedly with several specialists, clearly having received a critical report. “What’s the situation? What is Tony doing?” The Director demanded, pulling on his scrubs. I emerged from the corner, my voice hoarse but firm. “Director, it’s a ruptured interstitial pregnancy.” “Tony can’t find the bleeding source because he’s been rummaging around the spleen up top, but the bleeding point is in the uterine horn below.” The Director abruptly stopped, turning to look at me. He saw the bruises on my face and the blood at the corner of my mouth. “Anthony? What are you doing here?” “What you’re saying, is it true?” “Let me in.” I met the Director’s gaze, without any hesitation. “Right now, only I can locate the spot and stop the bleeding within a minute.” “If I fail, I’ll never practice medicine again, and I’ll serve time in prison as restitution.” The Director looked at me deeply, with scrutiny and the resolve of a desperate gamble. The monitoring alarms inside were already echoing in the hallway – the wailing of a heart about to stop. “Get in! Scrub in!” The Director growled. Anderson tried to stop me, but the Director silenced him with a look: “Shut up, unless you want your wife to die!” I sprinted into the changing room. In that moment, I felt my blood boiling. Three minutes later. I entered the operating room. The operating table was a scene of hell. Blood-soaked gauze littered the floor, and the monitors emitted piercing alarms. Tony, his hands covered in blood, was frantically rummaging around inside the patient’s abdomen. He had completely broken down, muttering to himself: “Impossible… why isn’t it there… the spleen is fine… where is the blood coming from…” Korina cowered in a corner, trembling, instruments scattered all over the floor, too terrified to do anything but whimper. “Get out of the way!” I charged forward, forcefully using my shoulder to shove Tony, sending him stumbling backward and falling to the floor. “You… Anthony? What are you doing?!” Tony looked at me in terror. I ignored him, my hands swiftly reaching into the pelvic cavity. Hot. Scalding blood. But I didn’t need my eyes; my hands were my eyes. Countless dissection practices in my past life. Made my fingertips, the moment they touched that pulsating rupture. Form a muscle memory. Found it! My left hand tightened instantly, gripping the ruptured uterine horn artery. In that very moment. *Sizzle—* The blood that had been gushing violently suddenly stopped. The blood pressure readings on the monitor, which had been plummeting, finally stabilized. Then slowly began to rise. The entire room fell silent. The anesthesiologist’s eyes widened, looking at me as if he’d seen a ghost: “Did… did you stop it?” I looked up, casting a cold glance at Tony on the floor, then at Korina in the corner. “Did you see that, you quack?!” “Prepare for uterine horn wedge resection!” The next ten minutes were my domain. Excision, suturing, ligation—each movement was precise and flawless. When I cut the last suture, the patient’s vital signs were completely stable. From that bloody mess. I retrieved the culprit. An abnormally developed embryonic tissue. Tony lay limp on the floor, his face ashen. He knew he was finished. The surgery ended. I removed my blood-soaked gloves and walked out of the operating room. Outside the door, Anderson had already learned everything. This titan of the business world now bowed deeply to me. “Miracle worker! Anthony is a miracle worker!” “I’m a fool! I was blind to your talent! I wronged you so terribly!” “Thank you for saving my wife’s life!” He cried with gratitude. I stepped aside, not helping him up, and simply said calmly: “It’s a doctor’s duty.” “However,” I changed the subject, my gaze sweeping past him to Korina, who had just sneaked out of the operating room and was furtively fiddling with her phone. She was hiding behind a pillar, thinking no one saw her, her fingers rapidly tapping on the screen. My phone vibrated in my pocket. A notification from the main group chat. A cold smirk touched my lips. “Mr. Anderson, I appreciate your gratitude. But I might be facing trouble again now.” “Trouble?” Anderson paused, then rose from the floor. I took out my phone, opened the hospital’s five-hundred-person group chat, and handed the screen to Anderson. In the group, Korina had just sent a new message and tagged everyone. [Korina: I was really scared today.] [Even though it was to save a life, Anthony was too much in the operating room…] [How can he just grope around in such a private area? ] [And keep his hand in there for so long… He looked like he was really enjoying it.] [Everyone, judge for yourselves, even if the patient was under anesthesia, he shouldn’t take advantage to molest her, right? image.jpg] Attached was a photo taken from an extremely unflattering angle. In the picture, my hand was deep inside the patient’s abdominal cavity. Due to the exertion, my expression looked somewhat strained. But after she added a filter, it genuinely appeared to have a perverted, lecherous quality. Anderson looked at the phone screen, his face shifting from confusion to disbelief, and finally to a dark, explosive red. He had been standing right beside me. He had personally watched me snatch his wife back from the jaws of death. He had personally seen that nurse terrified and useless in the operating room, yet now she was spreading such malicious lies online. “Is that… the nurse from just now?” Anderson gritted his teeth. I took back my phone and said calmly: “Yes, she says I was molesting the patient.” “Mr. Anderson, it seems I’m in for a rough legal battle.” Anderson spun around abruptly, glaring fiercely at the triumphant figure behind the pillar. “Fine… very fine!” “Daring to spread rumors about my wife’s savior, and using my wife’s surgery photo as material for sexual slander!” Anderson pulled out his phone and dialed a number: “Get my entire legal department here! I want this b*tch to rot in jail!”

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At 3 AM, my neighbor John broke down my door with a group of people, claiming I’d hit someone with my car and fled the scene. One of them grabbed me by the collar and yelled: “It was you! You hit my dad and drove off. I got your license plate number. My dad’s in the ICU right now, unconscious! You’re taking full responsibility for this!” He shoved his phone in my face, showing me photo evidence. His wife stood beside him holding their child, wailing dramatically. Still half-asleep, I had no idea what was happening. “What does this have to do with me?” The crowd joined in, pointing fingers: “Hit someone and still managed to sleep—how cold-blooded! How can we have a criminal like this living here!” Hit someone? I’m red-green colorblind. I can’t even drive! “Sir, please calm down,” I tried to keep my voice steady. “I didn’t leave my apartment today. You must have the wrong person.” John lived in the unit below mine. We usually nodded to each other when we crossed paths. But right now, he looked like he wanted to eat me alive. He shoved his phone screen in my face. “Wrong person? Is this your license plate or not?” The screen showed the rear of a Porsche Panamera, the plate number clear as day: A123. I squinted at it for two seconds and nodded. “That’s my car, but I—” “So you admit it!” He turned to the other neighbors. “Everyone heard that, right? The car is hers!” The hallway erupted. “That’s rich people for you—hit someone and won’t own up to it.” “Look at her face, acting all innocent.” His wife pushed through with the child in her arms and collapsed to her knees, sobbing hysterically: “Please, I’m begging you! My dad’s on a ventilator. The surgery costs $30,000.” “It’s nothing to you, but it’ll destroy our family. You can’t just let him die!” My scalp prickled. I quickly tried to help her up. “Please get up first. We haven’t even figured out what happened—” “It’s crystal clear!” John grabbed my arm. “I saw it with my own eyes! Your car ran a red light and sent my dad flying twenty feet!” Finally fully awake, anger flared inside me: “I didn’t drive anywhere today! Just because you say I hit him means I did?” “Thirty thousand dollars? Why not say three hundred thousand? I could just as easily say you’re trying to rob me!” The moment the words left my mouth, John’s hand connected with my face. The slap sent me stumbling back two steps, my ears ringing. “Bullshit!” He jabbed his finger at my nose. “My father is dying!” “If you don’t pay up, I’ll call the cops right now and have you thrown in jail! You won’t get away with this!” Someone in the hallway cheered him on: “Good! People like her need to be taught a lesson!” The neighbors grew more agitated. “Don’t waste your breath on her—call the police! Lock her up!” His wife knelt on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, the child wailing along with her. Camera flashes went off in my face. I covered my cheek and slowly straightened. “Fine. Call the police.” John froze. “Didn’t you say you’d call them? Go ahead.” I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. I turned, pulled something from my bedside table, and slapped it against his chest. “While you’re at it, have them explain how someone who’s red-green colorblind and can’t drive managed to hit your dad!” John stared down at the red-green colorblindness certificate for three seconds. The shouting from the hallway stopped. Someone muttered quietly, “Red-green colorblind? Doesn’t that mean she can’t get a license?” “John, could you have… gotten the wrong person?” I pointed at the paper in his hands. “See it clearly? It’s got an official stamp. Can you read?” John’s face went from pale to flushed and back again. The next second, he threw the paper on the ground. “You think one piece of paper can fool me?” “You can afford a Porsche Panamera, but you don’t have a license?” He stepped closer. “Besides, if you really are colorblind, that means you were driving without a license! That makes it even worse!” The others nodded in sudden understanding. “Right! She almost tricked us!” “No wonder she ran the red light—she can’t tell the colors apart at all!” I had no interest in continuing this pointless argument. “Fine,” I pulled out my phone. “Like I said, let’s call the police. We’ll see if I’m playing dumb or if you’re trying to scam me.” “Go ahead! Call them! We’ll see who they arrest when they get here!” John snarled. The call connected. I gave them the address and explained the situation. After hanging up, I leaned against the doorframe without another word. John kept ranting: “You’re calling the police now just to stall until my dad dies!” “Don’t think you can get away with this. No matter what, I’m sending you to prison.” “Shut up,” I said coldly. “Your dad’s not dead yet. Why are you so eager to curse him? Afraid he’ll die and you’ll get less money?”

John’s expression changed instantly. “Say that again!” He lunged at me, but his wife grabbed him and held him back. I was about to respond when sirens wailed from downstairs. John rushed toward them like he’d found his savior: “Officers! It’s her! She ran a red light and hit my dad, then refused to admit it!” The police officer looked me over. “Are you the owner of vehicle A123?” “Yes.” “Did you hit someone?” “No.” John panicked. “It was her! I saw it with my own eyes!” The officer waved for him to be quiet and turned back to me. “Miss, you say you didn’t hit anyone. Do you have proof?” I picked up the certificate from the floor and handed it over. The officer opened it and paused. “Red-green colorblind?” “Yes.” I nodded. The officer frowned. “Then how did you get this car?” “It’s a keepsake from my father,” I paused. “But I can’t drive it, so it’s always been parked in the garage.” “The dealership comes to pick it up for maintenance. There are records.” John sneered. “Keep making stuff up! You think the cops will believe you?” The officer ignored him and turned to the property manager. “Pull up the security footage.” The manager scratched his head. “Well, we had that heavy snow a couple days ago, right?” “It damaged some of the wiring. The parking garage cameras are down—we haven’t had a chance to fix them yet…” My heart sank. What a coincidence. John immediately perked up. “The footage is gone? Your evidence disappeared! Bet you’re thrilled!” The officer frowned. “Sir, please remain quiet.” “We have our own procedures. Without clear evidence, please show this woman some respect.” He turned to me. “Miss, does your car have a dashcam?” “Yes.” “May we take a look?” I nodded, grabbed the car keys from the living room cabinet, and handed them over. The group went downstairs to the underground garage. The officer had just reached the front of the car and hadn’t even opened the door yet. Suddenly John rushed forward and threw himself onto the hood, his voice cracking with excitement: “Officers! Come look at this!” He pointed at the front bumper. “What is this?” I walked over and used my phone light to see. On the right side of the bumper was a fresh scrape mark with a bloodstain on it.

The crowd erupted: “There’s no denying it now! The car’s got such a huge dent!” “She was so stubborn before—let’s see what she says now!” John’s wife rushed forward with the child, pointing at the bloodstain. “That’s my dad’s blood… What do you have to say for yourself now?” My head was spinning. Impossible. I never drove the car. The officer crouched down, shining his flashlight on the mark, his brow furrowed. “Miss, how do you explain this?” I opened my mouth, my voice dry. “I don’t know… I really never drove the car.” John sneered. “Don’t know? It’s your car, the blood’s right here, and you don’t know?” The officer stood up and looked at me. “Miss, we need to collect samples for testing. Please cooperate with the investigation and come with us.” My instincts told me that if I went with them now, things would only get worse. Could someone else have driven my car and caused an accident? “Okay.” I nodded. “But I have one request—let me make a phone call first to verify something.” The officer nodded. I pulled out my phone and called the dealership’s service manager, putting it on speaker. “Manager, this is Russell. Quick question—has anyone touched my car recently?” There was a two-second pause on the other end. “Your car? No.” “The last service was two weeks ago. After we finished, we parked it back in its spot. The keys have been with you the whole time. No one here has touched it.” “Are you sure?” “Positive. Our dealership has a policy—every time a customer’s vehicle goes in or out, we log it.” The call ended. The officer looked at me. I held my phone, my mind racing. So where did this scrape come from? Where did the blood come from? The murmuring in the crowd grew louder. John was energized. “Given up yet? It couldn’t have been anyone but you!” He grabbed my arm. “Let’s go! You’re paying me that $30,000 today!” I stumbled from the force, hitting the car door. My head struck the window frame, the pain making my vision go dark. In that instant, my eyes caught sight of the small black box attached to the windshield inside the car. The dashcam! “Wait!” I grabbed the car door and wouldn’t let go. “I want to see the dashcam footage right now!”

John froze, then sneered. “What good is a last-ditch struggle? Planning to pull another trick?” I ignored him and looked at the officer. “Officer, if I really hit someone, there must be footage in the dashcam!” The officer nodded, opened the car door, and removed the memory card from the dashcam. “Alright, let’s watch it now.” The footage loaded. Everyone held their breath, watching the progress bar crawl forward. John crowded in. “Fast forward! Don’t waste time! Yesterday at 6:34 PM—that’s when my dad got hit!” The officer frowned but hit fast forward anyway. The footage sped past, showing nothing but the gray parking garage wall. The knot in my chest loosened slightly. It seemed my car really had been parked here the whole time, never moved. The timestamp jumped to 6:30 PM yesterday. In the footage, my car suddenly started and drove out of the underground garage. My heart dropped. The car approached an intersection. The light was red, but the car showed no sign of slowing down. It drove straight through. An elderly man on the crosswalk couldn’t dodge in time. He was hit and sent flying twenty feet, landing hard on the pavement. The car didn’t stop at all—it simply made a U-turn and left. John shoved his phone in my face, his voice shaking: “See that? That’s my dad! What do you have to say now?” “You wanted evidence—there it is! What, you hit someone and don’t remember? Think you have multiple personalities? Acting like you have amnesia to escape reality?” “Let me tell you something—you’re paying for the medical bills! Thirty thousand dollars, not a penny less!” But I said nothing, just stared at the screen. I dragged the progress bar back and forth, watching that segment over and over. Once, twice, three times, trying to find any flaw. But the more I watched, the more confused I became. The crowd completely lost it: “The evidence is right there!” “What are you waiting for? Arrest her!” “Lock her up! Charge her!” I was shoved around, surrounded by cursing voices. The officer held back the surging crowd. Just as he was about to speak, his radio crackled. “Copy that. Copy that.” After listening, his expression darkened. He turned to me and reached for his handcuffs. “Russell, forensics just sent word. The blood on your car’s bumper has been tested. The DNA matches…” He paused. “Bradley, John’s father.” He stepped forward and the handcuffs clicked around my wrists. “You’re under arrest for hit-and-run.” Some in the crowd applauded and cheered. Others took photos. I was pushed toward the police car. My feet stumbled. My mind went blank. Impossible. Truly impossible. I’d never driven a car. I couldn’t drive. But the footage clearly recorded the entire crime. Could I really have multiple personalities? Did I kill someone and not remember? Wait. Something’s wrong. I stopped abruptly. The officer frowned. “Get in the car. Please cooperate with the investigation. Don’t waste time.” The dashcam video was still playing on a loop. “Officer,” my voice trembled, “can I watch that video one more time?” John cursed from the side. “Still trying to deny it? Officers, don’t let her stall for time. Just take her away!” The officer stopped him, hesitated for a moment, then handed me the phone. I dragged the progress bar back to the beginning. The car left the garage, passed the first intersection, red light, hit the person, made a U-turn, returned to the complex. I watched it again. Suddenly, my eyes locked onto a detail. Of course! The trick was right here! I looked up sharply. “I know who the real culprit is!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “363459”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #玄幻Fantasy #浪漫Romance #重生Reborn #狼人Werewolf