Category: English

“Sarah, your position has been eliminated.” The HR manager slid a folder across the table toward me. I stared at her, stunned. “Me? But I’m the lead on the Nexus Core system—” “Marcus made the decision,” she cut me off, her tone flat. “He said anyone can take over the project.” My mouth opened, but no words came out. She was already looking down at the next file on her desk. “You get three months’ severance. Sign here.” I looked at the text on the page. Eight years. I had given this company eight years of my life, and this is what it was worth. 1. I didn’t sign. The HR manager looked up, her eyes flashing with impatience. “Sarah, you need to think this through. If you sign now, you get the payout. If you make a scene, it won’t end well for you.” “I want to see Marcus.” “Mr. Elwes is a very busy man.” “Phase Two of Nexus Core is scheduled for delivery next week. I’m the only one who knows the core code—” “The technical details,” she interrupted again, “will be handled. Marcus has a plan.” I took a deep breath. Eight years. When I joined in 2017, this company was just a handful of people in a dingy old office building. The entire tech department was me and four other guys. I built Nexus Core one line of code at a time. From version 1.0 to the current 3.7. Over three million lines of code. It served seventeen of our enterprise clients and brought in over seven million dollars in annual revenue. “I can wait,” I said. Her expression soured. “Sarah, a word of advice. Once Marcus makes a decision, he doesn’t change it. You’re only going to make this harder on yourself.” I didn’t move. She stood up and left the conference room. I sat there alone, staring out the window. The three o’clock sun cast a warm glow on the street below, the same street where I bought my coffee every day. I’d been sitting in this building for eight years. The door opened. It was Marcus Elwes. He was in his early forties, his hair perfectly coiffed, a gold watch peeking out from the cuff of his tailored suit. “Sarah,” he said, sitting down across from me. “I hear you’re refusing to sign.” “Marcus, Phase Two goes live next week. If I leave, who’s going to—” “Don’t worry,” he said with a dismissive smile. “The tech is covered. Kevin and the team can handle it.” Kevin? Kevin Chen was a junior who’d been hired last year. He barely understood the system architecture. “Marcus, the core module’s encryption protocol was something I developed independently. There’s no documentation—” “Sarah.” He cut me off. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was firm, absolute. “I think you have a fundamental misunderstanding of your role here.” I was speechless. “Nexus Core,” he said slowly, deliberately, “is the result of a team effort. It is not your personal project. The company will do just fine without you.” I stared at him, my blood running cold. “At the company gala last year,” I said, my voice quiet, “you told the clients you led the development.” His smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “That was just for marketing purposes.” “And the core technology?” “Sarah,” he said, standing up. “I don’t have time to argue with you about this. HR will handle the rest.” He walked to the door, then paused. “Don’t overestimate your own importance.” The door clicked shut. I sat there alone. The sunlight was still beautiful. But I felt a deep, unshakable chill. 2. At five o’clock, I went back to my desk. My colleagues kept their heads down, their eyes glued to their monitors. No one looked at me. As I was packing my things into a cardboard box, Kevin came over. “Sarah,” he whispered, “are you really leaving?” “My position was eliminated.” A flicker of panic crossed his face. “But… Phase Two…” “Marcus said you guys can handle it.” He opened his mouth, then closed it again. I knew what he wanted to say. Just last week, he’d spent two hours in a meeting with me, trying and failing to understand the key generation mechanism for the encryption module. “Sarah,” he hesitated, “Marcus told me I’m taking over Phase Two starting tomorrow…” “I know.” “I… I don’t really get how that—” “Kevin.” Marcus’s voice cut through the quiet office from behind us. Kevin froze, snapping his mouth shut as if a switch had been flipped. “Sarah’s situation is her own business. Don’t get involved,” Marcus said, walking past without even glancing at me. “We’ll discuss Phase Two at the morning stand-up.” “Yes, Marcus.” He walked away. Kevin looked at me, his mouth half-open. “Sarah, I…” “It’s okay,” I said, placing the last folder in my box. “Just do your best.” He nodded and scurried back to his desk. I walked toward the exit, box in my arms. The door to Marcus’s office was open. He was on the phone, his voice booming with confidence. “Relax, I’m personally overseeing the Nexus project. Sarah Vance? She’s just a coder. Her leaving won’t impact a thing. I’m in control of the core technology.” I stopped for a second. He didn’t see me. “That’s right, Phase Two will be delivered on time next week. You have my personal guarantee.” I didn’t go in. I just held my box and walked to the elevator. As the doors slid shut, I saw the young woman at the front desk give me a small, sad wave. Then the doors closed. Eight years. Over, just like that. I stepped out of the building, and the bright sun made me squint. My phone rang. It was my mom. “Honey, are you done with work? Coming home for dinner tonight?” I opened my mouth, the words catching in my throat. “Mom, I… I have to work late.” “Again? That company works you like a dog.” “Yeah.” “Okay, well, take care of yourself.” I hung up. Standing in front of the building, I suddenly had no idea where to go. 3. I went to the coffee shop across the street. I ordered a black Americano and found a seat in the corner, the box of my professional life at my feet. My phone screen lit up. It was the company-wide chat. Marcus had posted a message: “Team, due to personal reasons, Sarah Vance will be leaving the company. I will be personally leading the charge on Nexus Core Phase Two, so there is nothing to worry about.” A flood of replies appeared instantly. “Got it, Marcus!” “Thanks for stepping in, Marcus!” “With you leading, Marcus, I know we’re in good hands!” I stared at the screen. Personal reasons? I was laid off, and he called it personal reasons? My thumb hovered over the keyboard for a few seconds. In the end, I just locked the screen. I took a sip of coffee. It was bitter, astringent. Eight years. I gave my youth to this company. In 2017, I turned down an offer from Google to come here. Because Marcus promised me a chance to build something new, to lead a core project. And I did. Nexus Core. From scratch. I tackled every technical hurdle, often alone. I designed the encryption protocol. I built the core architecture. Through more than thirty iterations, I was the one pulling all-nighters to oversee every launch. During the massive system upgrade last year, I worked for a month straight without a single day off. And for what? At the gala, Marcus stood on stage, holding court with the clients. “Nexus Core is the culmination of our team’s hard work, which I personally led for three years…” The applause was deafening. I was sitting in a corner, invisible. Later, when a client asked him a technical question he couldn’t answer, I was the one who had to step in and save him. He clapped me on the shoulder and said, “This is our lead engineer, a technical genius I personally mentored.” I just smiled and said nothing. Looking back, I was such a fool. My phone buzzed again. An unknown number. I answered. “May I speak with Sarah Vance?” “This is she.” “Hi, Sarah, this is a recruiter from a tech headhunting firm. Is now a good time to talk?” I paused. “Not really, no.”

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My colleagues started holding all our company potlucks at my place after they discovered I was a good cook. And since Mandy, the new girl in accounting, offered to have everyone chip in for groceries, I didn’t have the heart to say no. On my last day of work, we had one final get-together at my house. Mandy was all smiles. “Clara, you’re seriously an amazing cook,” she said. “As a little thank you, we each sent you seventy-five bucks.” But the next day, she sent me a message. “Clara, running an unpermitted food business is illegal. Not only can they shut down your home, but since the total value of transactions is over fifteen hundred dollars, you’ll have to pay a fine of twenty times that amount.” “But since we’re all colleagues, we won’t report you. We can handle this privately.” “Just give us the twenty times fine as compensation.” That’s when I realized it. Up to that final dinner, the total amount of money they had all chipped in for groceries was exactly one thousand five hundred and one dollars. 1 Mandy had barely started her job in accounting, but she was already showing off her new designer handbag to everyone in the office. My coworkers oohed and aahed, telling her how rich she must be. It was exactly the reaction she wanted. She covered her mouth with her hand, giggling. “Oh, you guys will be able to afford one soon, too,” she said. She set the expensive bag on her desk and then wrapped her arms around mine, her voice turning pleading and sweet. “Clara, I heard you’re resigning. We should have one last get-together, right? I mean, who knows when we’ll ever get to taste your amazing cooking again.” I told her it was no problem and asked everyone to make a list of what they wanted to eat so I could prep. I planned a huge feast: her favorite sweet and sour pork ribs, a whole roasted salmon, slow-braised short ribs, and a few light vegetable dishes—all things they’d raved about before. It was a lot of work, but it was the last time. When she heard me agree, she gave me a huge hug. “You’re the best, Clara! With skills like yours, you could totally be a professional chef!” I smiled, still a little uncomfortable with her being so touchy-feely, and gently eased away. My best friend, Kate, picked me up from work that day and saw the menu I’d jotted down in my phone’s notes. She knew all about my dinner parties for my colleagues and couldn’t help but lecture me. “You’re about to leave, why are you still bothering with them?” she grumbled. “It’s not like you need the grocery money. It’s so much work, and what if something goes wrong? They’ll just blame you.” Kate owned a restaurant, so she’d seen her fair share of people trying to scam free meals. She was worried I’d get taken advantage of. “After you quit, come stay with me for a few days. Just relax. Stop being everyone’s free personal chef.” I figured it was just one last dinner, a nice way to say goodbye to my colleagues. What could possibly go wrong? I promised Kate it would be the absolute last time. The next morning at work, Mandy rushed over to my desk. “Clara, Clara! I told everyone about the party!” she announced. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough to catch the attention of a few nearby coworkers, who all chimed in about how excited they were for the weekend. Then, Mandy sent me the menu. It was long. “I already asked everyone what they wanted, so you can just follow this list. No need to stress about it!” My eyes widened when I saw Lobster Thermidor on the list. My smile faltered. “Mandy, some of these dishes are really complicated, and the ingredients are not cheap…” Before I could finish, Mandy’s face fell into a pout. “Clara, are you saying you think we’re just a bunch of freeloaders?” I immediately denied it. She looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “It’s just… after you leave, we won’t get to eat your food anymore. We wanted to try some new things,” she wheedled. “Don’t worry, we’ll all chip in for the groceries, just like always.” I felt cornered. I finally gave in. “Okay, but this time, you’ll all need to send me the money first. I’ll refund you whatever is left over.” A corner of Mandy’s mouth twitched. She was still smiling, but her tone had an edge to it. “And here I thought we were all good friends. Guess it was just one-sided.” I frowned. Usually, a dinner party cost maybe twenty or thirty dollars per person for groceries. This time, it was going to be in the hundreds. I wasn’t about to front that kind of cash. “Money’s just a bit tight for me right now,” I said simply. “I probably don’t have enough to cover all the ingredients myself.” Her expression changed to one of understanding. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I totally misunderstood. I’ll definitely come over early on the weekend to help you out!” That night, Mandy was active in the work group chat, asking about food allergies and telling everyone to send me the money. Seeing their excited messages, the uneasy feeling in my gut started to fade. On the weekend, Mandy showed up late, saying something had come up. I didn’t think much of it. Everyone had a wonderful time. At the end of the night, when I tried to refund them the leftover money, they all refused. Instead, each of them transferred another seventy-five dollars directly to my bank account. Mandy beamed, telling me it was just a little token of their appreciation. I was genuinely touched. But later that night, after I’d finished cleaning the kitchen and finally sat down to rest, I got a notification. Mandy had added my personal phone number to a new group chat. It was called “The Final Withdrawal.” 2 When I first started the job, I’d foolishly used my personal number for work. Kate had chewed me out for it, so I got a new number just for professional use. Everyone at work had contacted me on that number for years. Why would she suddenly add my old, personal number to a group called “The Final Withdrawal”? I wasn’t expecting any kind of deposit. I figured maybe she’d forgotten I didn’t use this number anymore and added me by mistake. I was about to message her privately when a file popped up in the chat. It was a detailed spreadsheet documenting every single dinner party, the number of attendees, the cost of groceries for each meal, and screenshots of every single transfer they’d ever sent me. I hadn’t realized it, but over the past three years, my colleagues had come to my place for dinner more than forty times. There were holiday celebrations, promotion parties… every time, everyone had a blast and would always say, “Let’s do this again soon!” I felt a wave of nostalgia. Sometimes, workplace friendships could be truly heartwarming. Then, Mandy started sending a flurry of voice messages. “According to federal law, it’s illegal to engage in food service operations without a license.” “If the total value of goods exceeds fifteen hundred dollars, the fine is twenty times that amount. That’s the basis for our compensation claim against Clara.” Her voice was dripping with a smug, cruel satisfaction that made my mind go completely blank. One sixty-second voice note after another kept popping up. “Not only do we get back all the grocery money we ever gave her, but we’ll each walk away with a few thousand dollars extra.” “Think about it. Fifteen hundred bucks in a savings account for three years earns you pocket change. But invested with Clara? We’ve hit the jackpot.” “You all should be thanking me. If it wasn’t for my idea, you wouldn’t be seeing any of this money.” She then coached them on how to pressure me into paying. She sent a barrage of links to food industry regulations. “Familiarize yourselves with these. Don’t mess this up when it counts. We even paid her extra on that last dinner just to push the total over the fifteen-hundred-dollar mark.” I numbly scrolled to the bottom of the spreadsheet. The grand total of all their contributions over three years. $1,501. The number was so precise, so deliberate. It felt like a shard of ice piercing my heart. “Don’t worry, what she did is a clear violation. She’s legally liable. The twenty-times compensation is just the start. If this goes to the Health Department, they could seize her home.” “She’ll pay. She has to.” Soon, others started typing. These were the same colleagues who had always been so warm and friendly to my face. “If it wasn’t for this payout, I would’ve stopped chipping in ages ago. Twenty bucks a person? I can get a decent lunch for fifteen.” “Mandy, you’re a genius. A true accountant, always looking out for our bottom line.” “Not like that snake Clara. Charging us so much for that last dinner? She was trying to rip us off. Well, she’s about to regret it!” I couldn’t believe it. The kind, friendly people I thought I knew were hiding these ugly, twisted faces. The most laughable part? They had been planning this from the very beginning. For three years. They were now gleefully comparing how many dinners each of them had attended, calculating how much compensation they were owed. Watching them celebrate their victory, a chilling cold spread through my limbs. My heart felt like it was bleeding. They were the ones who had suggested the dinners. They were the ones who had offered to split the cost of groceries. I had never cut corners. I always chose fresh, healthy ingredients. A meal like the ones I prepared would have cost a fortune at a restaurant, but I only ever charged them about twenty dollars each, just enough to cover the food. I never even charged for my labor. Then they got bolder, making more and more demanding requests, and I did my best to accommodate them. One colleague, who not only attended every single dinner but also always hitched a ride with me, spoke up. “Mandy, are you sure we can get twenty times the amount? That’s like, thirty thousand dollars.” Mandy’s voice note was quick and confident. “Don’t worry. I’ve done my homework.” She posted screenshots of every single transfer. “All we have to do is stick to the story: she was running a business for profit, and these were payments for her catering services.” “Besides, remember how I told you all to add a note to every transfer?” “She can’t deny it. Even if she takes this to court, we have the upper hand.” It hit me then. Every time they sent me money, they’d always added a little note: “Meal Payment” or “Catering.” I thought it was just to help me keep track of the money. I never imagined it was another piece of their trap. The chat went quiet for a moment. Then, someone asked hesitantly. “Mandy, isn’t this a little… harsh? Maybe we could ask for just a few times the amount. Twenty seems like a lot. We all used to be friends.” Mandy’s reply was swift and vicious. “Whose side are you on? This is for all of us!” “You were all for it when I first brought it up.” “Trying to be the good guy now? A little late for that, don’t you think? Anyone who backs out now will have to deal with me.” No one else objected. The truth of their three-year deception was laid bare before me, bloody and raw. A cruel joke mocking my own stupidity.

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My parents’ divorce split us apart. My sister went with Mom, and I was left with Dad. After the divorce, Dad’s temper grew worse. He spent his days drinking or beating me, ignoring everything else at home. With no money for food or necessities, I had to work under the table at the local market after school just to keep us afloat. One day, after Dad knocked me out and stole my hard-earned cash again, strange text floated across my vision like a livestream chat. [The little sister is still in the dark. She doesn’t know her parents never divorced.] [This is all just a reality show. They want to see the difference between raising a child in poverty versus wealth.] [The little sister is so pitiful, starving and cold, while the big sister lives in a mansion eating like a queen.] Following the chat’s instructions, I found where my sister lived. I saw her in an expensive princess dress, walking out of a villa arm-in-arm with our parents. They got into a Rolls-Royce and drove away. Clutching my aching, empty stomach, bitterness flooded my heart. So, they never divorced. So, I was the only one suffering. And the reason they chose me for the “poverty experiment”? Because I was the obedient one. 1 I stood there, frozen, staring in disbelief. If I had doubted the floating text before, seeing my well-dressed parents and sister together shattered any skepticism. They were still together. We weren’t broke. I was just the only one left in the dark. Was I abandoned because I was the good kid? I clutched my chest, the pain making it hard to breathe. The chat scrolling past my eyes told me this was all a game. Rich people behind screens loved watching this kind of “reality TV,” tipping thousands of dollars a day. So, my parents did this for money? Standing under the bright sun, I felt cold to my bones. My phone buzzed. A text from my sister, Chloe. “Sis, heard you’re working odd jobs to survive? Poor thing.” “But you’ve always been the sensible one. You’ll work hard, right?” Her tone dripped with schadenfreude. Chloe had always been the sweet talker, knowing exactly how to make our parents smile. I was the quiet one, always in the background. In middle school, I ranked first in my grade while Chloe was at the bottom. Instead of praising me, my parents scolded me for showing off in front of her. That was when I knew they favored her. “What are you doing?! Look at the time!” A familiar shout snapped me back to reality. I realized I had walked to my workplace without thinking. It was my daily part-time job. After the “divorce,” Dad became an alcoholic. He was either drunk, asleep, or hitting me. He never gave me a dime. Sometimes, he even stole my wages for booze. Because I was under eighteen, most places wouldn’t hire me. I could only work illegal shifts at the market. “I’m sorry…” I apologized numbly, took the greasy apron, and started working. It wasn’t until midnight that I clutched my day’s pay and carefully navigated the dark alley back home. I turned on the light. The dim bulb illuminated our dilapidated, damp apartment. Peeling paint, cracked windows, faded furniture. Dad, usually drunk at home, was gone. I guessed he was with Mom and Chloe. They were a happy family. I lived in a slum. After eating a cup of instant noodles, I lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. I knew there were cameras hidden in the corners, broadcasting my every move to screens elsewhere for entertainment. Unable to sleep, I took out my phone and scrolled aimlessly. The floating text suddenly displayed a website link. [This is their livestream site. Poor Little Sis doesn’t know anything, working so hard.] I held my breath and carefully typed the URL into my old phone. It was a hidden site with many live channels. In the most popular room, I saw myself. And my parents. And Chloe. They were in a high-end restaurant, feasting on lobster and abalone. I smelled the lingering scent of instant noodles in my room and swallowed hard. At this moment, I felt like the ugly duckling, peeking at the swans’ happiness from the shadows. 2 I got home at 9 PM. Final exam results came out today. I ranked first again. On the way back from the market, I bought a small piece of sponge cake as a reward. It was the cheapest kind, two dollars, no frosting. But it was the best I could afford. Back home, I placed the cake carefully on the table and broke off a small piece. The texture was rough, but the egg flavor was strong. My nose stung. I couldn’t remember the last time I had cake. Suddenly, the chat floated by again. [Little Sis is so sad. Celebrating first place with a two-dollar cake.] [Big Sis is different. Ranked last but feasting with parents.] The comments discussed the feast my family was having. The cake in my mouth turned tasteless. It was too quiet alone. I opened the livestream site again. Sure enough, Mom, Dad, and Chloe were gorging themselves at a fancy Japanese restaurant. I saw Mom smiling, patting Chloe’s head, saying grades didn’t matter as long as she tried. I saw Dad put a large piece of fatty tuna in Chloe’s bowl, saying even with bad grades, he’d send her abroad to study if she wanted. They chatted happily, planning Chloe’s future. Not a word about me. It was as if I didn’t exist. As if Chloe was an only child. I closed the stream, feeling dim. Halfway through the cake, heavy footsteps sounded outside. Dad was back. I wanted to show him my grades. I forced a smile. But before I could hand over the report card, he shoved me. “Got any money? Give me money for booze!” I shrank back. “I… don’t have much.” He had taken almost everything last time. “Working and no money? Liar! Go buy it!” He kicked my shin. Pain shot up my leg. A bruise formed instantly. I didn’t dare speak, grabbed my loose change, and ran out. I bought the alcohol and returned in the dark. “I got it.” Watching him drink, I gathered my courage. “Dad, exam results are out. I got…” Before I could say “first,” he roared impatiently. “What’s the use of a girl studying! You’ll just get married! Hurry up and graduate, get a job, and give me money! That’s what matters!” My eyes widened. I remembered the livestream. They encouraged Chloe to study, to see the world while she was young. Why was it useless for me? I crumpled the report card in my pocket and never took it out. Dad finished the booze and stumbled out, knocking over the table. My half-eaten cake fell to the floor. He stepped on it without a glance. Bang. The door slammed. Footsteps faded. I looked at the crushed cake and cried. 3 Dad didn’t come back for a long time. From the livestream, I learned Chloe wanted them to accompany her before the SATs (college entrance exams). I sat in the damp rental, feeling like my heart was soaked in ice water, shivering. On the day of the exam, I walked to school alone. Luxury cars zoomed past. I saw Chloe’s smiling face in one. After the exam, I saw my parents waiting at the school gate. I smiled instinctively. Just as I stepped forward, they waved enthusiastically in another direction. I followed their gaze and saw a beaming Chloe. I froze. I watched the three of them walk away together, arm in arm, until they disappeared. The chat filled my vision again. [Big Sis is truly the favorite. Three days of full accompaniment, eating gourmet food.] [Little Sis ate steamed buns and pickles for three days. No nutrition.] [Is torturing Little Sis just for the show?] I took out my phone and checked the stream. I saw my parents replying to comments. [It’s to toughen her up. Can’t spoil her young. Plenty of kids have it worse, why can’t she handle it?] [Once the acceptance letters come, we’ll bring her home. We won’t mistreat her then.] Reading their replies, I smiled bitterly. “Won’t mistreat her.” As if I should be grateful. Why? Did they think one sentence could erase six years of suffering? 4 After the exams, I frantically looked for more work. I didn’t know if they’d pay my tuition, but I knew they didn’t love me. Results day. I went to school. Looking at my score on the screen, my teacher was thrilled. “Maya, first place again! I knew you’d get into Capital University.” I rushed home, planning to dig out my savings for tuition. Money I had secretly saved from my jobs. But home was a wreck. My hidden money was gone. Dad was snoring on the sofa, clutching a bottle. I grabbed his collar, screaming, “Dad! Where’s my money?!” He woke up, pushed me away, and cursed. “Yelling at your father? Your money is mine! I raised you, spending your money is my right!” “That was my tuition! I got into Capital University!” He glared, fierce as a demon. “Study what? You’re eighteen! Go work! Don’t ask me for money!” I shook with rage, tears falling. “No. I’m going to college. I’ll earn the tuition myself.” I turned and left. The sun was scorching. I walked to the market, but my old stall was empty. Wondering where to find work, someone blocked my path. It was my sister, Chloe. She wore a brand new designer dress and crystal necklace. I looked down at my faded t-shirt and sweatpants, ashamed. “Sis, heard you did well? Your name’s on the honor roll. Amazing.” She smiled, voice gentle. “Looking for work? It’s too dirty here. I’ll introduce you to a tutoring job. It’s for a friend of Mom’s. Safe.” Seeing the concern on her face, I felt a pang of emotion. In the end, only she was willing to help.

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1 Our doctor called Caspian Hamblett and me a match made in heaven—a cruel twist of fate, really. His fertility rate was practically zero, a severe case of male infertility. Mine was the exact opposite; I was hyper-fertile. We were a biological paradox. And so, in our third year of marriage, the impossible happened: I conceived naturally. I tucked the positive pregnancy test into a small, elegant box, planning to give it to him on his birthday. The perfect surprise. But he beat me to it, exploding across the internet first: #HamblettHeirCaspianAndSupermodelGirlfriendInSteamyHotelRomp #SeraphinaRowesBody #LearningNewTricksAtTheApexHotel I felt like I’d been plunged into a cavern of ice. I called Caspian, my hand trembling. He answered, his voice a low, intimate murmur. “Babe, I’ve got a business dinner tonight. Don’t wait up.” Before I could utter a single word, he hung up, leaving me frozen in silence. I didn’t sleep that night. … The comments online were a torrent of poison. [You can’t really blame him for finding another woman. His wife is barren.] [Exactly. He’s handsome, rich, incredible in bed. He has everything. Genes like that deserve to be passed on.] [Please, Seraphina Rowe is an international supermodel. Can you imagine how perfect their kid would be?] Through the long lens of a paparazzi camera, Caspian made no effort to hide as he pressed the woman against the floor-to-ceiling window. His large hands were strategically placed, cupping her private areas, his movements powerful yet tender. Below, on the street, a crowd of onlookers and photographers grew, their cameras flashing until night fell. [Damn, three hours, four rounds. Caspian Hamblett is a god.] [Seraphina must be in heaven.] For me, those three hours were an eternity of torture. I watched the man who had promised to love me for a lifetime tear off his mask for the world to see, losing himself in another woman. I remembered a year ago, after a full year of trying for a baby with no success, when his parents pressured us into getting checked. The results came back. The doctor told me the problem was Caspian. To protect his pride, his fragile male ego, I begged the doctor to keep it a secret. I told everyone the problem was me. That I was the one who couldn’t conceive. That night, his mother laid out dozens of photos in front of him. “The Hamblett family empire is enormous. We can’t let it die without an heir.” “This one is from Harvard, high IQ. This one is a professor at Juilliard, artistic, from a family of intellectuals…” Right in front of me, Caspian swept the photos into the trash can. “Mom, forget it. I only love Elara.” “I can’t separate my body from my heart.” His mother tried everything to force us apart—tears, tantrums, threats. But he just held my hand tighter and we moved out of the Hamblett mansion. He even threatened to publicly disown his family. “You two can have more kids if you want,” he’d told his parents. “That way you won’t have to worry about the Hamblett legacy.” “Elara and I are going to live a happy, carefree life, just the two of us.” The conviction in his eyes back then was absolute. I truly believed we would love each other for the rest of our lives. But now… Tears blurred my vision. I rested a hand on my stomach, on the precious new life I was carrying, and sent Caspian a text. [Are you sure you don’t want to know what your surprise is?] I stared at my phone, praying for a reply. If he would just apologize, even with a pathetic excuse like he’d lost his head for a moment, I would keep our child. I would give him one more chance. But the only reply I received was a city-wide firework display, lighting up the night sky with a message for everyone to see: [To Seraphina Rowe’s first love, Mr. Hamblett. It began with you, it will be true to you, and it will end with you. I love you~] [Happy Birthday. Here’s to many more with me.] The fireworks spelled out the words, one by one, for a full thirty minutes. Their grand romantic gesture was trending again. They were on a yacht on the Hudson, having a candlelit dinner. [I heard Caspian bought that yacht for her. It’s their private love boat now.] [Wow, so romantic. I can only imagine what happens on that thing~] My heart shattered, piece by piece. Today wasn’t just his twenty-eighth birthday. It was our tenth anniversary. We were eighteen when we got into the same university. One kiss, and we were inseparable. Now, he had clearly forgotten all about the woman waiting at home to celebrate with him. I sat at the dining table for five hours, watching the food grow cold and the cake I’d baked collapse in on itself. Finally, my phone buzzed. It was from Seraphina. [Caspian and I had a wild night. He just fell asleep.] [If you want to know what happened, it’s all online. Need me to send you a highlight reel?] A flood of video files came through, eating up nearly twenty gigabytes of my phone’s memory. [Here’s the whole thing. Enjoy the show, honey.] [Okay, I’m exhausted. Going to cuddle with your husband now. Bye.] The last message was a photo of Caspian asleep. His brow was furrowed with fatigue, but a sweet, satisfied smile played on his lips. A wave of nausea washed over me. I ran to the bathroom and dry-heaved over the toilet. The baby kicked restlessly inside me. I bit my lip until I tasted blood as tears streamed down my face. “I’m sorry, little one,” I whispered. “It’s not that I don’t want you. It’s that I can’t have you.” I wanted so badly to give our child a happy home. But I couldn’t. Not anymore. I couldn’t pretend nothing had happened and continue to share a bed with Caspian. After I was done being sick, I pulled myself up from the floor. I started packing a bag, my mind set on going to the hospital for an abortion. Just then, there was a knock at the door. It was Alfred, his parents’ driver. “Ma’am, Mrs. Hamblett would like to see you.” I went with him. His mother slid a divorce agreement across the table. “I’m sure you’re aware of what happened yesterday.” “Caspian has been carrying on with that woman in public, for the whole city to see. He’s made it perfectly clear he’s ready for a divorce.” “You need to accept the fact that he doesn’t love you anymore. Sign the papers. Don’t hold him back.” After a sleepless night, I had already steeled myself to end our ten-year relationship. To lose his child. To divorce him. I just hadn’t expected the Hamblett family to be in such a hurry to throw me out. I picked up the agreement with a bitter taste in my mouth. The terms were simple: I would leave with nothing. I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. I pushed the papers back. “I’ll agree to a divorce. But I’m not signing this.” “Caspian’s affair is public knowledge. I want a seventy-thirty split of the assets.” “Seventy for me, thirty for him.” His mother slammed her hand on the table. “How dare you!” “In all the years you’ve been married into this family, you haven’t produced a single heir.” “Marrying Caspian elevated you, a girl from a bankrupt family, to a status and respect you never deserved.” “And now you have the audacity to demand money? You should be compensating us!” The absurdity of it all was suffocating. “Has it ever occurred to you that the reason I can’t have a baby is because your son is the one who’s broken?” SLAP. The force of the blow sent a ringing through my ears. She threw a debit card at my face. “Don’t you dare spew such nonsense.” “Your youth was worth about five hundred dollars.” “Take it, and get out of my house.” Just then, the door opened. Caspian walked in, holding Seraphina’s hand. He flinched when he saw me, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. He tried to pull his hand away, but Seraphina gripped it tighter, linking her arm through his. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hamblett,” Seraphina cooed. “Caspian and I were up so late last night, we overslept a little.” She pulled a sapphire necklace and an envelope from her purse. “This is for you. It was the grand prize from the modeling competition. A royal blue sapphire. The moment I saw it, I thought of you.” His mother’s eyes lit up. “This is a priceless piece, almost impossible to find at auction now. And you’re just giving it to me?” Seraphina nodded. “Of course. You’re Caspian’s mother. You raised this incredible man. I don’t know how else to thank you.” His mother beamed. “You are too thoughtful, my dear. It seems our Caspian has finally opened his eyes.” “I didn’t have time to prepare a proper gift for you, but please, take this.” She handed Seraphina a black credit card. “It has a five-million-dollar monthly limit. Spend it as you wish. I know you models have to maintain a certain image.” Seraphina hugged her sweetly. “Thank you so much! I’m opening the fashion show tomorrow. You have to come!” A bitter pang shot through my heart. In all my years with Caspian, I had never been treated with such warmth. I grabbed my bag to leave, but Caspian stopped me. “Stay for dinner.” I shook him off. “No, thank you. Let’s get a divorce.” “I’ll meet you at the city clerk’s office tomorrow at nine.” His brow furrowed with impatience. “Yes, I’m with Seraphina now. But she doesn’t mind you being around. You can keep your title as Mrs. Hamblett.” He leaned in, his voice low. “You need to remember, you have no one but me now.” “Throwing a tantrum and demanding a divorce won’t do you any good.” He was right. I had no one else. Ever since my parents died in a car crash that was meant for him, a deliberate act of sabotage, I had clung to him like he was life itself. He was the only one left who would be good to me. And now, this blatant betrayal. If I had known this would happen, I would have stayed away from him ten years ago. Then my parents would still be alive. Seraphina approached me with a bright, false smile, as if just noticing me. “Oh, Elara, you’re here! I actually had a little favor to ask you.” “Listen to Caspian. Stay for dinner.” I took a step back. “No.” Caspian’s face darkened. “Elara, don’t take your anger out on Seraphina.” “She’s sincerely asking for your help, not for your cold shoulder.” He shoved me into a dining chair. Seraphina poured me a glass of red wine. “The jewelry I was planning to wear for the show tomorrow has gone missing.” “This is a special exhibition. The pieces need to have a story. The other models are wearing family heirlooms or purchased antiques. I can’t find a suitable replacement on such short notice.” “So, I was hoping to borrow yours.” Her eyes were fixed on the necklace I was wearing. “With the story behind it, your necklace would be the talk of the show.” Her earnest expression was a mask for raw provocation. My heart seized. I instinctively covered the necklace with my hand. I had taken it from my mother’s body. I remember that day with sickening clarity. A massive truck plowing straight into my parents’ car. Their multi-million dollar Rolls-Royce, crushed like a tin can. Blood pooling on the asphalt. It was the darkest day of my life. I knelt before their mangled bodies, my screams tearing through the air, and salvaged the broken half of the necklace from my mother’s neck. It was the only thing I had left of her. And now, Seraphina wanted to use my tragedy as a prop for her career. “Never. My pain is not a tool for your publicity.” Caspian glanced at her, then at me. “Let it go, Seraphina. That was her mother’s.” Tears welled in Seraphina’s eyes, her hand, holding a wine glass, frozen in mid-air. “I just wanted to borrow it,” she choked out. “It’s not like I wasn’t going to give it back.” “Caspian, you know how important this show is to me. I’m on the verge of breaking into the international market.” As her tears fell, Caspian’s expression softened, his brief sternness melting into concern. “Elara, maybe you could just…” “Impossible,” I cut him off. I stood to leave, but Seraphina grabbed my arm. “Please, Elara. I’m begging you.” “I really don’t have time to find anything else. If you’re angry at me because of Caspian, you can hit me, you can yell at me, whatever you want.” I tried to pull away. “Let go of me.” She stumbled backward and fell to the floor, the red wine staining her dress like a fresh wound. Caspian rushed to her side, his face a mask of fury. “That’s enough, Elara.” “Your parents are dead. They’re gone. What’s the point of clinging to a necklace? You’d be better off visiting their graves.” He reached over and ripped the necklace from my neck. “Seraphina is borrowing it. Stop making a scene.” He scooped her up into his arms. “Mom, this woman has ruined dinner.” “I’m taking Seraphina to change. We’ll see you at the show tomorrow.” He carried her out the door. I stumbled after them, my voice raw. “Caspian, that belonged to my mother! You can’t!” “Give it back to me!” He settled Seraphina into the car, then turned to me, his face flushed with anger. “Maybe I’ve been too good to you, Elara. Is that why you feel like you can treat Seraphina this way?” “All she did was ask to borrow something.” He had forgotten. That crash was orchestrated by one of his family’s enemies. They thought he was in the car that day. My parents had died for him. I remember him kneeling at their memorial, sobbing, swearing an oath. “Mom, Dad, don’t worry. I’ll take care of Elara for the rest of my life. I’ll love her and protect her.” “I’ll never let anyone hurt her. I’ll never let something like this happen to her.” All those promises were now dust. A man’s heart changes so easily. For his new love, he could steal my most precious memory. Disappointment was etched across his face. He slammed his foot on the gas, the car screeching away, leaving me standing alone in the road. I didn’t care. I scrambled to my feet and ran after him. At an intersection, there was a deafening screech of tires and a sickening crunch. The next thing I knew, I was flying through the air, thrown several meters by the impact of a car. Blood poured from my nose and mouth. My clothes were soaked with it, a sticky, warm wetness spreading from beneath me. I tried to move, but my body was a dead weight. Through a hazy fog, I heard the wail of a siren. “Quick, call Mr. Hamblett!” “She’s losing too much blood. The baby’s gone. We have to focus on saving her.” “If we lose her, Mr. Hamblett will tear this hospital apart!” A doctor’s voice, choked with tears, “Director, he’s not answering.” “Then use her phone.” They fished my phone from my pocket. The screen was shattered but somehow still worked. A few seconds after they dialed, he picked up. “It’s the middle of the night, Elara. What do you want now?” The paramedic spoke quickly. “Mr. Hamblett, this is City General Hospital. Your wife—” A cold laugh cut him off. “Is Elara being dramatic again? Did she hire actors to try and guilt me into coming home?” “Seraphina has a huge show tomorrow. She’s nervous and needs me with her.” “I’ll come home after it’s over.” “And don’t worry, I’ll bring your necklace back with me.” “No, sir, you don’t understand,” the paramedic insisted. “Your wife has been in a serious car accident.” “She’s in critical condition.” “And she’s miscarried. You need to get to the hospital.” Caspian’s voice was laced with annoyance. “She can’t get pregnant, so how could she have a miscarriage?” “I told you, I’m busy tonight. Tell her to stop acting like a child.” Click. The line went dead. Caspian’s eyelid twitched all night. It was still twitching the next day. A knot of anxiety tightened in his gut. After the fashion show, he hurriedly dismissed the reporters. As he was heading to his car, a man stopped him. “Mr. Hamblett? Miss Elara asked me to give this to you.” In front of all the flashing cameras, the man handed Caspian a small, ornate wooden box. The media swarmed, their lenses focused tightly on it as he lifted the lid.

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The serial murder case I spearheaded was overturned eight years later. The victims’ enraged families cornered me outside my parents’ house and stabbed me multiple times, demanding my life as payment. My own family, ashamed of the scandal, cut ties with me. I served an eight-year sentence for gross negligence in the performance of my duty. After my release, I sought refuge in the quiet coastal town of Port Willow, making a meager living as a fisherman. Finally, there was a measure of peace. But that hard-won serenity shattered the moment my ex-wife, Seraphina “Sera” Albright, arrived. She was now the celebrated Police Commissioner of Cresthaven, famed for her string of high-profile cases. A relentless storm lashed the coast, and a swarm of reporters pressed against my small wooden cabin, shouting. “Mr. Kincaid, sources say the Commissioner remained unmarried for eight years, waiting for your return!” I stared at her, standing there in her rain-slicked glory, and the urge to laugh was overwhelming and bitter. No one knew that the one who had manufactured the case, built the evidence, and pushed me out to take the fall—all to elevate her lover, Brandon Cole—was this very same “devoted” Commissioner Albright. 1 The cabin door remained locked, and the reporters, seeing this public snub, were audibly sympathizing with Sera. She, however, appeared perfectly composed. The rising volume of the crowd finally drew Frankie, the owner of the fishing boat, out of the cabin. He approached Sera, visibly terrified, bowing slightly. “Commis— Commissioner Albright, we’re all honest, hard-working people here,” he stammered. “This town can’t handle a person of your stature. If you and all these cameras don’t leave, we’ll lose tomorrow’s haul.” He then turned toward the cabin and called out, a plea in his voice: “Rhys Kincaid! The Commissioner came all this way for you. Just step out and talk to her!” “That won’t be necessary. Don’t pressure him,” Sera’s cool voice cut in. At the sound of her voice, my hands froze. The sharp nylon mesh of the net sliced a deep, ragged line across my index finger. Even after all these years, hearing her voice—that practiced, even tone—still stripped away my hard-won tranquility. I knew her better than anyone. The possibility that she was here out of some lingering affection was as absurd as the sun rising in the West. I knew she wouldn’t leave until she got what she came for. Thinking of Frankie, and the small kindnesses he’d shown me, I let out a long, heavy sigh. I put down the net and stepped out of the small shack. The instant I appeared, the reporters swarmed. A barrage of questions. Rapid fire. “What’s it like, going from decorated Detective to dockside fisherman?” “Is your avoidance because you still resent the Commissioner for exposing your negligence?” “We hear your former protégé, Brandon Cole, has proposed to her multiple times. Any comment on that?” The manic energy pushed them forward. Microphones jabbed my face. My eyes sought hers—Sera was standing a few feet away, watching the spectacle with a cold, assessing gaze. I felt a chill lock up my muscles. Question after cutting question hit me, but I couldn’t form a single word. My throat was dry. Nothing. The reporters, frustrated by my silence, grew more aggressive, nearly shoving me over. Then, Sera moved. She pushed through the crush of bodies and stood directly in front of me, shielding me. Her voice was low, yet commanded instant silence. “Everyone,” she said, “this is a private matter between Mr. Kincaid and me. We won’t be answering any questions.” She gestured toward the docks. “They have work to do. Let them get back to it. Clear out.” The crowd dispersed grudgingly. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, ready to bolt back inside. “Rhys Kincaid,” Sera said. I forced myself to meet her eyes, my body rigid. “Is there something else, Commissioner Albright?” She flinched, just a hairline tremor at the formality of the title. She took a moment, then asked, her voice soft, “Have you… been well? All these years?” The question, coming from her, was so wildly, obscenely ridiculous I almost laughed. But the moment wasn’t for humor. She took a step closer, lifting a hand toward me. My body reacted instantly. I stumbled back, not noticing the metal bucket beside my feet. CLANG! I fell hard and gracelessly, flat on my back. The fresh cut on my finger struck a jagged rock, and bright blood welled up and ran down my palm. Sera rushed forward, her face a mask of concern, reaching for me. “Are you hurt? Let me help you up.” I scrambled away from her touch, bracing myself against the rough wood of the cabin to stand. “I’m fine.” Ignoring Frankie’s stunned gaze, I hurried to dismiss her. “Commissioner Albright, if that’s all you came for, I need to get back to work. I’m out on the water before dawn.” Sera’s expression fractured into something that looked convincingly like pain. She reached out again. “Rhys, do we really have to be this cold to each other? You don’t know what I’ve been through these past years—” A new voice cut her off. “Mommy! Dad and I missed you so much!” A boy, maybe nine or ten, barreled straight into Sera’s arms. Brandon Cole approached, steering my parents—Robert and Susan Kincaid—by the elbow. He gently took the hand Sera had extended to me, pulling her closer with a proprietary air. “Sera, why didn’t you call me when you came to see the Master?” he chastised, but his tone was light. “Mom and Dad were frantic when they heard you came out to this remote place alone.” He glanced at me, a condescending smirk playing on his lips. “Don’t mind us, Rhys. The boy missed his mother. And with her being pregnant again, we all have to be extra careful.” My eyes drifted, involuntarily, to her flat stomach. The irony was a punch to the gut. Eight years unmarried, waiting for me? She had two children with Brandon, one already nearly ten. I thought back. Before my arrest, she’d been injured in the line of duty, claiming she needed a year at a specialized recovery clinic. That must be when it happened. They were already intertwined, already a family. And I, the fool, had been oblivious, throwing myself into solving just one more case, chasing one more bonus, to make sure she had the best care possible. Before I could even process the assault of emotion, my parents’ accusations began, a torrent of righteous anger. “Rhys Kincaid, you have the nerve to still be breathing!” My father, Robert, spat the words. “You shamed us beyond repair!” My mother, Susan, cried out, “Your father had a stroke three years ago! If Brandon hadn’t been checking on us, if he hadn’t rushed your father to the hospital—your father would be dead and buried!” I looked at their graying hair and the deep lines of their aged faces, and despite everything, a wave of hollow regret washed over me for the years of care I couldn’t give them. But watching them cling to Sera and Brandon, the sting of betrayal intensified. If they knew the truth—that the people they were thanking, the people they cherished, were the ones who had framed me for a crime that cost innocent lives—what would that do to them? My father looked at me with open disgust. “Sera, that boy is a disgrace. He isn’t worth your worry.” He shook his head. “If I had committed such a horrific wrong, I would have had the decency to disappear forever! You shouldn’t have come for him!” My mother chimed in, pure contempt in her voice. “That’s right. We disowned him eight years ago. Don’t worry about hurting our feelings. What good is a son like that? We only recognize you and Brandon as our family now.” Frankie was watching the exchange, his eyes wide and beginning to look wary. There was nothing left to say. My subtly trembling hands were the only thing that betrayed the cold fury churning inside me. Sera noticed the tremor. With a look of practiced sympathy, she explained, “They’ve had to endure public scorn for years, Rhys. Try not to blame them.” She gently soothed my parents, then turned back to me before leaving. “What happened back then… I still owe you for it,” she murmured. “My number hasn’t changed. Call me if you ever need anything.” I simply nodded, refusing to speak. Seeing my non-committal nod, Sera finally seemed satisfied and departed. Call her? I thought. I wanted to run from them, not beg for the scraps of charity she might condescend to throw my way. After my parents and the entourage were gone, Frankie walked over and clapped my shoulder, his expression unreadable. He didn’t say anything, but I knew. Something had shifted. The next day, I was assigned to the oldest, most dilapidated boat, given the back-breaking tasks. Frankie shuffled his feet, avoiding my eyes. “Rhys, it’s not that I don’t want to look out for you,” he mumbled. “Look, after the spectacle yesterday… and, well, everyone knows you did time.” He looked miserable. “No one wants to share a boat with you. You’ll have to work alone.” I nodded silently, shouldered the heavy fishing net, and walked toward the small boat that looked painfully frail against the churning waves. A wave of crushing sadness washed over me. The fragile illusion of peace—Sera had personally destroyed it.

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The day I was due to give birth to twins, I bought out every dose of tocolytics in the hospital, forcing my body to delay labor. I held on until the next day, watching Julian Sterling announce that his 10th mistress, Sophia Lin, had given birth to his child first. Her child would be the future heir of Sterling Enterprises. Only then did I let out a breath of relief and give birth to my twins right there. In my past life, Julian was diagnosed with congenital low sperm count. To ensure an heir, he kept ten mistresses and declared that whoever gave birth first, her child would inherit the empire. He told me that if I gave birth first, he would dismiss all the mistresses and let my child inherit everything. I believed him. When I unexpectedly became pregnant with twins, I was overjoyed. But on the day of delivery, I was met not with his smile, but with his rage. Ignoring my screams, he forced the babies back inside me and stitched me up. I watched helplessly as they slowly suffocated within me. He dragged me to a fresh grave and forced me to kowtow until my head bled. “Sophia came from nothing. I just wanted her child to be the heir so no one would dare bully them. But you, you had to try and steal even that.” “She died in childbirth, taking the baby with her. I want you to pay with your life.” I was beaten to death in front of Sophia’s grave. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that day. This time, I’ll let the three of them be a happy family. Chapter 1 I called the nurse and demanded the last injection of tocolytics. Chapter 2 The nurse screamed in protest, “Mrs. Sterling, you must deliver now! Any further delay could be life-threatening!” Before I could speak, Julian’s bodyguards burst in and forcibly dragged me away. The doctors and nurses shouted desperately behind us, “Her heart rate and blood pressure are dropping! Moving her now could cause a massive hemorrhage! It could mean three lives lost!” But the bodyguards turned a deaf ear, roughly dragging me to the press conference. Julian’s mistresses were also brought to the scene, some already visibly pregnant. Then, everyone, including me, was forced to drink a bowl of abortifacient. Screams and wails filled the venue, the stench of blood spreading rapidly. “Even if the wife gives birth, it’s not like us mistresses have a chance. Why make us miscarry?! Ah, it hurts! Help!” I was forced to drink the whole bowl. The labor that had just been halted turned into a hemorrhage. My screams alarmed the other women, who panicked: “Mrs. Sterling was forced to drink it too? She was about to give birth!” “If it’s not her giving birth, then who? Who wants us all dead?” I rolled on the floor in agony, gritting my teeth and shouting, “Call a doctor! Someone’s going to die!” Just then, Sophia Lin, dressed in a white gauze dress, walked in arm-in-arm with Julian. Her face was rosy, showing no signs of having just given birth. Chapter 3 As Julian entered and saw the mistresses lying on the floor, his face changed instantly. Sophia covered her nose and screamed, “Oh my, why have all these sisters miscarried? Who is so cruel as to deny them their children?” Before she finished speaking, Julian glared at me and kicked me hard in the stomach. “You bitch! Taking advantage of my absence to drug them! Your jealousy drove you to kill them and their unborn children!” I couldn’t stand up from the pain. Seeing her standing behind him with a smug look, I gritted my teeth, “I didn’t… it must be her—” “Still denying it?” He roared. “This isn’t the first time you’ve hurt people out of jealousy! This time, I won’t indulge you.” He ordered the bodyguards, “Everyone gives her a slap. Afterward, I’ll send you to the best hospitals and postpartum centers.” The bodyguards pinned me down in the center of the venue, ignoring the blood flowing from my lower body. The girls walked up crying, slapping me with tears in their eyes: “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sterling…” One after another, slap after slap, until my ears rang and my vision blurred. Only after everyone was sent away did Julian satisfy himself by taking the baby from the nanny and leading Sophia to me. He looked at my bloodstained body and face, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes. But the next moment, he lifted his chin and said coldly: Chapter 4 “Don’t blame me for letting them hit you. I have to teach you a lesson. Let you know the consequences of jealousy and harming others.” “Just so you don’t think about stealing the heir position from Sophia and her son again.” I trembled and looked up at him. So, I wasn’t the only one reborn. No wonder he immediately blamed me as soon as Sophia spoke. No wonder he said I did this “not for the first time.” Because in the past life, he also wrongly accused me and sentenced me to death for Sophia. My eyes reddened. He said coldly: “Joanna, playing the victim won’t work. Giving birth early won’t help either.” “I’ve already had the doctor induce labor for Sophia. This time she will definitely beat you to it. Whoever gives birth first, their child is the heir. Even if you give birth, it’s useless.” I laughed miserably, clutching my bleeding lower body, and whispered: “I already took the inhibitors to delay labor, making way for your family of three. But why won’t you let me give birth to my children? Why force me to drink that medicine, to kill my babies…” He froze, frowning deeply. “Don’t talk nonsense. Your due date was yesterday. I asked the doctor, you gave birth long ago.” Cold sweat poured down my face. I kept crying in pain, pulling him to look closely at my still swollen belly. He looked disgusted, impatiently shaking off my hand, refusing to look at my stomach. “Stop acting. If you want to prove you didn’t try to harm Sophia, admit at the press conference tomorrow that you couldn’t conceive and asked Sophia to carry the child for you.” “Then transfer all your shares and assets to her and her child, and serve them well in the future.” “If you dare play any tricks or touch a hair on her head, I’ll deal with not just you and the bastard in your belly—your critically ill father won’t be staying in the VIP ward either.” Chapter 5 I stared wide-eyed at Julian, my cries heart-wrenching: “Julian Sterling, you bastard! My father is in a coma because he saved you! How can you threaten me with his life?!” Julian said impatiently, “As long as you serve Sophia during her confinement and take good care of them, I won’t touch him.” With that, he left with his arm around Sophia. “Sophia, thank you for giving me an heir. I’m going to reward you well.” My lower body was hemorrhaging. I begged the bodyguards guarding the venue to take me to the hospital, to save the children in my belly. My mother-in-law rushed in. Seeing the pool of blood and my state covered in foul amniotic fluid, her face turned pale. “Send her to the hospital quickly! If anything happens to my grandchildren, I won’t spare any of you!” I was sent to the hospital, but the doctor was nowhere to be found. My mother-in-law was furious, demanding to know where my assigned doctors were. The nurses said awkwardly: “Mrs. Sterling, all the doctors in the city were called to the Riverside Villa by the CEO. Miss Sophia pricked her finger during a blood test, and Mr. Sterling was afraid of complications, so he ordered all doctors to be on standby.” “Right now… there are no doctors in the city.” My mother-in-law was so angry she kept calling him: “He’s crazy! His wife, whom he begged to marry, is hemorrhaging giving birth to his children, and he calls away all the doctors for a mistress? Does he not care if his wife lives or dies?!” Chapter 6 After the tenth call, Julian finally answered, asking impatiently what she wanted, if I was making trouble again and looking for her support. My mother-in-law shouted excitedly: “Joanna is hemorrhaging and in a coma! The babies are suffering from hypoxia! And you took all her doctors away! Do you want to kill your wife and children?” Julian sneered: “Did Joanna make you call me? She gave birth yesterday, why pretend to be critically ill now?” “Alright, alright, I still have to take birth photos of Sophia and my son. She wants a doctor? I’ll send someone.” My mother-in-law hung up, gripping my hand tightly. “Don’t be afraid, Joanna, the doctor will be here soon.” I clutched my belly, feeling the life inside weakening. Thinking of my past life, my children sewn inside me by Julian, suffocated to death. I trembled all over, pulling my mother-in-law’s hand, speaking with difficulty. “Mother, three years ago, my father went into a coma to save Julian. You promised me you’d treat me like your own daughter, and if Julian mistreated me, you’d help me divorce him.” “I beg you, let me divorce him. I won’t stand in the way of his beloved woman’s son taking power. I just want my children to be born safely.” Chapter 7 My mother-in-law was already in tears, nodding repeatedly. “Although it was to repay your father’s life-saving grace, I only said I’d adopt you as a goddaughter. Confessing and proposing was all Julian’s own doing. He loved you so much, how did it come to this? It’s all that bitch Sophia’s doing. If she hadn’t suddenly appeared, you wouldn’t be like this.” I smiled tragically. Yes, childhood sweethearts, first love, how did it become like this? The man who blushed at his coming-of-age ceremony, saying he’d love me forever and would deserve a thousand cuts if he betrayed me. Now he’s cutting me into a thousand pieces for another woman. “Please, Mrs. Sterling,” I said through gritted teeth, word by word. Listening to my weak pleas, she finally nodded. “Okay! When you got married, I made him sign a divorce agreement just in case you drifted apart, so I could help you get away. I’ll go back and process it urgently right now!” “Tomorrow, I’ll announce that you are my sole heir. As for that ungrateful son, I won’t acknowledge him anymore!” My mother-in-law left immediately to handle the matter. I lay on the hospital bed, pain flooding my abdomen, wailing. The young assistant left by my mother-in-law anxiously waited for the doctor sent by Julian. Finally, someone came. But it wasn’t a doctor, it was a delivery guy. Seeing the bloody scene in the delivery room, he awkwardly handed over a bag. A sanitary pad and a band-aid fell out. “Mr. Sterling said it’s just postpartum lochia, not life-threatening. Tell her to wipe it herself and stop disgusting him with this stuff.” The assistant cried, smashing the bag. “Madam, I’ll take you to a hospital in another city right now. You must hold on.” I wailed continuously, my vision went black, and I finally passed out. Chapter 8 I woke up to a bucket of freezing water dumped on me. Before me was Julian’s disgusted face. “Stop pretending now that you’re awake,” he looked down at me. “You knew I was announcing the heir and Sophia’s status tomorrow, yet you made a scene going to a hospital in the next city. Do you want everyone to think Sophia is bullying you?” Sophia stood behind him holding the baby, tears streaming down her face, looking pitiful. “Madam, I know you hate me. But revenge on me is one thing, why did you have your mother-in-law try to take my child?” “The assistant was shouting before being dragged away, saying your mother-in-law went back to process documents to have my child adopted by you, saying I’m not fit to be the heir’s mother…” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I could only shake my head with all my might, trembling and begging: “I… didn’t… take me to the hospital… the babies… can’t hold on…” “Lying again!” Julian frowned impatiently. “My mom left the hospital in a hurry and brought lawyers to work overnight. Wasn’t that your doing? You think stealing Sophia’s child will secure your position as the heir’s mother?” “Didn’t you give birth yesterday? Why pretend to be critically ill in labor? Trying to trick me into pitying you? Dream on!” My whole body was in agony. The blood below had dried, sticking to my skin, emitting a strong stench. Chapter 9 Sophia covered her mouth and retched, eyes teary: “Sister, you know I can’t stand the smell of blood after giving birth, yet you refuse to clean up. Are you trying to make me faint on purpose?” She cried until her face was pale, shrinking into Julian’s arms, provoking pity. “Look at you now!” Julian looked disgusted. “Like a madwoman, stinking. Such an embarrassment!” He waved his hand, ordering bodyguards to pour bucket after bucket of cold water on me until I was pale and shivering, completely hypothermic, before he told them to stop. Sophia nestled in his arms, crying and begging: “Madam, I beg you, don’t separate me from my child… If you insist on taking my son, I’ll jump out this window!” She acted like she was going to jump, and Julian quickly held her back. Finally furious, he turned around, kicked away my hand grasping his pant leg, and leaned down to shout coldly: “Don’t think you can stay the heir’s mother by manipulating my mom. I’ve already locked down the old mansion. No matter what you plan, it won’t work!” “As for you—I warned you so many times not to bully Sophia and her child, but you wouldn’t listen! Since that’s the case, I have to use special measures.” He turned sharply, ordering the bodyguards coldly: “She drove Sophia to almost jump off a building; she should pay the price. Go, pull her father’s oxygen tube and throw him off the building!” Chapter 10 “Julian Sterling!” I screamed, tearing my throat. “Are you crazy! That’s my father! He saved your life!!” “So what!” Julian sneered. “To force you into a wealthy family, to make your child the future heir of Sterling Enterprises. He schemed to save me, used that favor to force me to marry you. Now you’re married into wealth, and I got you pregnant. If you can’t give birth to my first child, that’s your own uselessness. I’ve repaid my debt. I owe you nothing!” “Do it!” I threw myself at the bodyguards, trying to stop them, but was kicked to the ground. The blood that had dried below suddenly gushed out due to the violent impact, like a burst dam, instantly staining the entire floor red. I screamed in agony, curling into a ball. Julian was about to drag me, but suddenly he saw my high swollen belly exposed by the beating, and then the floor full of crimson. His face turned pale. He subconsciously rushed to my side, held me, and turned to question Sophia. “What’s going on?! I put you in charge of Joanna’s delivery. Didn’t you say she gave birth successfully yesterday and the child was sent to the nursery?!” “Then why is her belly still so big?! Why is she still bleeding!!!” Chapter 11 Sophia’s face changed slightly. But her eyes darted around, and she quickly squeezed out tears, crying as she took out her phone: “Madam did give birth yesterday, the child has been in the nursery.” “I knew Madam would try to make things difficult for me… so I specifically asked the doctor to take a video of the child.” She handed over the phone. On the screen was a baby clearly a month old. The video was crude, obviously fake. But Julian believed it with just a glance. The next second, he furiously lifted me from the ground and slammed me onto the cold, hard floor. The back of my head hit heavily, blood spraying instantly. “You dare lie to me!” He roared. “To make me softhearted, you even faked a belly and blood?! How disgusting, how cheap are you!” “Think I’ll fall for it this time? Dream on!” He lifted his leg and kicked my stomach mercilessly, again and again. Blood and screams splashed with every impact. “Ah… no… don’t…” I begged with a torn throat, but my body grew colder and stiffer. Until I had no strength left to beg, I could only curl up in my own pool of blood, trembling silently. He threw off his bloodstained jacket, turning to Sophia with an apologetic face. “Sorry, Sophia, for making you smell this disgusting scent. I’ll deal with her. After that, I’ll take you to an island for our honeymoon, as compensation for wrongfully blaming you, okay?”

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1 In my last life, I was the queen of the paparazzi. I knew where all the bodies in Hollywood were buried, and eventually, the corporate overlords buried me. Reborn, I became the one-woman rumor mill of a backwoods town called Hickory Hollow. Who’s chicken went missing, which husband was cheating—I knew it all. Then Penelope, the fake heiress, decided to launch her acting career. Her wealthy parents, terrified that I—the real daughter, their dirty little secret—would blow up their perfect lives, came hunting for me. They tracked me down in the dead of night and shoved a non-disclosure agreement in my face, a contract promising I’d never try to reclaim my birthright. “Take this fifty thousand dollars and rot in the mud where you belong. If you get in Penny’s way, we’ll end you.” On the video call, Penelope was already crying, her tears perfectly framed. “Sister, you’re only losing a family, but I can’t lose my dream!” I just smiled and quietly started a live stream. “Fifty grand? Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea what a trending topic costs these days?” “I’ve already compiled all your family’s dirty laundry into a PowerPoint presentation.” “Now, give the camera a big smile. I’ve already got tomorrow’s headline picked out.” “‘Murder for Hire: Hollywood Moguls silenced their real daughter to launch a star.’ How does that sound?” … “You’re asking for it. Smash her phone!” Arthur Preston shot a look at his bodyguards, and the two men in black suits started towards me. I didn’t flinch. I just tweaked the beauty filter on my stream. The viewer count instantly rocketed past two hundred thousand, the live chat scrolling too fast to read. 【Whoa, is this a real-life billionaire meltdown? This is better than reality TV!】 【Isn’t that Arthur Preston, the CEO of Preston Global? And is that former A-lister Eleanor Vance with him?】 Just as a bodyguard’s hand reached for me, I sidestepped and yelled at the top of my lungs. “Help! The city slickers are here to kill us all!” On cue, the Hickory Hollow Senior Squad, who had been hiding along the fence line, made their grand entrance. Old Mrs. Gable led the charge, followed by a squad of seven or eight senior citizens, average age eighty-five and up. In perfect sync, they all threw themselves at the bodyguards’ feet. “Oh, the humanity! They’re killing us! My back, my hip, my kneecap!” The bodyguards froze, dumbfounded. What could they do? One wrong move and they’d be paying off a new beachfront condo. Arthur’s hands were shaking with rage. “You peasants! Get out of my way!” I seized the moment, aiming my phone’s camera right at his contorted face. I smirked. “You all see this? The true face of the one percent.” “Since Mr. Preston is in such a hurry to shut me up, let’s speed things up.” With a tap of my finger, the PowerPoint slide changed. There was Arthur, his arm wrapped around a young model, his hand resting somewhere it definitely shouldn’t be. I had helpfully watermarked the photo with the date, time, location, and even the hotel booking confirmation. The live chat exploded. 【SAVAGE! The receipts are pristine!】 【Isn’t that the model who just debuted from that reality show? So he was her sugar daddy!】 【Go Arthur, still got it in ya. A wife at home and a side piece on the road.】 Arthur’s face went from crimson to a ghastly shade of purple. He clutched his chest, gasping for air. Eleanor shrieked and lunged at me, her nails out. “You little bitch! How dare you photoshop these lies!” I simply played a video. The clip showed Eleanor at a high-end gentleman’s club. She was shoving the keys to a Porsche down the pants of a young male model, her laughter echoing, all her polished Hollywood poise gone. Arthur stared at his wife in disbelief. Eleanor guiltily looked away. The carefully crafted image of Hollywood’s perfect couple shattered into a million pieces, live for all the world to see. I flashed a peace sign at the camera. “Don’t go anywhere, folks. This is just the appetizer.” “Penelope’s plastic surgery records and her ‘casting couch’ audition tapes are up next.” “Spam the chat with a ‘1’ if you want to see it. If we hit a million likes, I drop it right now!” The screen was instantly flooded with a waterfall of【1】. Penelope, who was still on the video call, went pale with terror. I stared at her through the screen, my voice dripping with ice. “You said you couldn’t lose your dream, right? Was your dream to sleep your way through every director in Hollywood?” Penelope screamed and disconnected the call. Seeing the situation spiral out of control, Arthur fumbled for a bottle of nitroglycerin pills and poured them into his mouth. “Let’s go! Now!” he barked at his bodyguards, trying to retreat. I picked up the check from the ground, tore it into tiny pieces, and flung them against the window of their departing Maybach. “Take your fifty grand with you! It’s not that I think your money’s dirty—I’m worried it’s cursed!” My adoptive parents were huddled in a corner, trembling. My mother tugged at my sleeve, her voice shaking. “Lexi, dear, those are your real parents. Did we just… cause a lot of trouble?” I patted her calloused hand, a pang of sorrow in my heart. “Mom, they’re not parents. They’re wolves. And the only way to deal with wolves is with a shotgun.” That night, a cease-and-desist letter from Preston Global’s lawyers was posted online. My streaming account was banned from all platforms for privacy invasion and malicious slander. Banned? They had no idea who they were dealing with. In my past life, I was the undisputed queen of the paparazzi. I dragged an old box out from under my bed. It was filled with everything I’d been preparing since I was a kid. Dozens of backup accounts. Contact information for hundreds of media influencers. I switched to a new account. My new handle: The Hollow’s Herald. My bio was a single, chilling sentence: 【Don’t go to sleep. The truth is coming.】 2 The Prestons’ PR team was good. I’ll give them that. Overnight, the narrative completely flipped. #LexiTheExtortionist# and #LexiUngratefulDaughter# were the top trending topics. An army of bots and paid trolls flooded the internet, painting me as a money-grubbing monster who would even blackmail her own parents. Penelope posted a photo set of herself doing charity work at an orphanage. Her caption read: Even though I’ve been hurt, seeing these children’s smiles reminds me that there is still good in the world. Her comments section was a sea of sympathy. Someone even doxxed my adoptive parents, posting their address online. The next morning, when my mom went to the town market to sell eggs, she was pelted with rotten vegetables. She came home with a hand pressed to her forehead, blood trickling through her fingers. “Lexi, I’m fine, honey. I just tripped and fell.” She forced a smile, trying not to worry me. A firestorm of rage ignited within me, searing its way to the top of my skull. I had planned to play the long game with them. But if they wanted to die on this hill, I was more than happy to bury them there. I opened my laptop, my fingers flying across the keyboard, typing out strings of code. In my past life, I’d taught myself to hack to get scoops. I was no master, but breaking into the eighteen-year-old system of a maternity clinic? Child’s play. An old nursing log. A grainy backup of a security tape. I packaged them together and uploaded them to my new account. The title was simple and brutal. The Abandoned Heiress: Lost or Left for Dead? The video showed Eleanor, eighteen years younger, looking down at a baby in a bassinet with utter disgust. “Cry, cry, cry, that’s all you do! You’re giving me a headache. Was this damn baby born just to ruin my life?” Arthur stood beside her, holding a piece of paper. It was a chart from a so-called psychic. “This child is a curse. She will bring ruin to this family. A jinx sent from hell. If we keep her, we’re all doomed.” “The psychic said we can’t keep her. Tonight’s a blizzard. We’ll leave her somewhere far away.” The footage cut to a road-side security camera. Arthur, holding a swaddled infant, tossed her into a snowbank and walked away without a second glance. That baby was me. The “psychic” was a charlatan who was later jailed for fraud. And Penelope? She was the “good luck charm” they adopted on his recommendation. The video went viral. The internet erupted. 【MONSTERS! These people are absolute monsters!】 【It’s the 21st century and people are still abandoning babies because of some bogus psychic’s prediction?】 【Leaving a newborn in a snowstorm in sub-zero temperatures? That’s attempted murder!】 The same users who had been cursing my name a moment ago were now my staunchest defenders. Penelope’s comments section was a war zone, with thousands calling her a parasite who built her life on a dead baby’s future. I immediately released the second part of my attack: a series of side-by-side photos. Left: Eighteen-year-old Penelope on a luxury yacht for her birthday, wearing a fifty-thousand-dollar custom gown. Right: Eighteen-year-old me in a patched-up winter coat, helping my adoptive father collect scrap metal in a blizzard, my hands raw and red like beets. Left: A designer handbag Penelope casually discarded, which was worth more than my adoptive family’s income for five years. Right: Me, carrying a fifty-pound sack of potatoes for six miles just to save two dollars on bus fare. The stark visual contrast was more powerful than any words. Public sympathy surged. 【I’m crying. Lexi has been through so much.】 【Who’s the real monster here? The whole Preston family is rotten to the core!】 When the stock market opened, Preston Global’s shares immediately plummeted, wiping out billions in value. My phone rang. It was Arthur. This time, his voice held none of its previous arrogance, only a weary, pleading tone. “Lexi, it was all a misunderstanding. I was tricked back then.” “How about this? I’ll give you five million dollars. You take down the videos, and we can come home and talk this out.” Five million? In my last life, I might have been tempted. Now, it just made me feel sick. “I don’t think I’ll be coming home, Dad.” “The psychic said I was a jinx, bad for your finances.” “Looks like your luck really did run out, didn’t it?” I hung up and blocked his number. Outside, my mom was dabbing antiseptic on her forehead. I walked over and gently took the cotton swab from her. “Does it hurt, Mom?” She shook her head. “Lexi, can we just stop fighting? I’m so scared you’ll get hurt.” I wrapped my arms around this frail, small-town woman. “Don’t be scared, Mom. You protected me my whole life. Now, it’s my turn to protect you.” 3 Arthur Preston was clearly desperate. He dropped the loving-father act and went straight to hiring thugs. The next morning, before the sun was up, a deafening roar shook the entire town awake. A dozen bulldozers rolled up to the edge of town, led by my dear brother, Sterling Preston. “Tear it down! I want this whole dump leveled!” The bulldozer’s shovel rose high and then smashed down on the stone sign at the town entrance. With a deafening crack, the sign, our town’s landmark, crumbled to dust. I frantically tried to start a live stream, but the signal was jammed! The bulldozers then plowed into the orchards—over a hundred acres of ripe pumpkins and fruit trees, the town’s entire livelihood for the year. Old Mr. Henderson ran out, screaming, clutching a giant pumpkin. “No! You can’t! This is all we have!” A bodyguard rushed him, kicking him square in the chest. Mr. Henderson went flying, landing hard in the mud. The pumpkin shattered, its bright orange guts splattering everywhere. “Mr. Henderson!” I screamed, my eyes burning with rage as I tried to run to him, but two burly men blocked my path. Mrs. Gable and the Senior Squad tried to form a human barricade. Sterling just sneered and snapped his fingers. “Release the dogs!” Two massive, snarling dogs, as tall as a man’s waist, leaped from a truck and charged the elderly crowd. One of them latched onto Mrs. Gable’s leg, its teeth sinking deep. Blood instantly soaked through her pants. Her screams tore through the morning air. “Help! Somebody help!” The townspeople scattered in terror. The sounds of crying, shouting, and barking dogs created a symphony of chaos. A group of tattooed thugs stormed my house, smashing everything in sight, even tearing the stove from the wall. My dad tried to protect my computer—my only evidence. A goon brought a crowbar down on his leg. A sickening crack echoed through the room. My father’s scream pierced my eardrums. “Dad!” I tried to lunge forward, but Sterling grabbed me by the hair, yanking me back. “Lexi, I thought you were so tough? Thought you were a big shot streamer?” “Why don’t you stream this?” He stomped on my dad’s broken leg, grinding his heel into the shattered bone. My dad’s face was slick with sweat, but he bit his lip, refusing to cry out. “Lexi… run…” he gasped. My mom was on her knees, begging for mercy, but a bodyguard grabbed her by the hair and dragged her away. The town mayor tried to call the police, but Sterling smashed his phone to pieces. “I’ve decided I want this land for a new development,” Sterling announced. “Anyone who calls the cops is an enemy of the Preston family! I’ll make sure their entire family disappears!” Pure, unadulterated rage consumed me. I pulled the pepper spray from my sleeve and emptied the canister into Sterling’s face. “Ah! My eyes!” he shrieked, clawing at his face. I broke free, grabbed a loose brick, and charged at him, ready to die fighting. But it was hopeless. A group of them swarmed me, pinning me to the ground. Sterling, his eyes red and swollen, staggered towards me like a madman. He took a cigarette from one of his men. “Look closely,” he hissed, taking a long drag. “This is what happens to those who help you.” “These peasants are dying because of you!” He flicked the lit cigarette into a nearby haystack. Flames erupted, roaring towards the sky. That was our home. The home my parents had built with their own two hands. I watched the fire reflect in their despairing eyes, and my heart shattered. It was my fault. I had brought this on them. I had been so naive, underestimating the depths of their cruelty, the ruthlessness of their power. Sterling motioned to one of his men, who produced a syringe. “Give her a shot. Take her with us.” My consciousness began to fade. The last thing I saw was Mrs. Gable, twitching in a pool of her own blood. The last thing I saw was my father’s mangled leg. The last thing I saw was the fire devouring everything I had ever loved. Darkness closed in. The same helpless feeling from my past life washed over me. Was I reborn just to bring ruin and death to even more innocent people?

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1 It was New Year’s Eve. I’d just dropped off my last ride when a G-Wagon rear-ended me. The driver was Serena Croft, a ghost from my past. She stormed over, her impatience shifting to disbelief as she looked at me. “Ethan Vance… are you a man or a ghost?” she whispered. I slid my driver’s license forward. “You have the wrong person, ma’am.” Her eyes sharpened. “Don’t play dumb. I’d know you if you were ash.” Though her voice was harsh, her eyes shone. I felt a bitter twist of old pain, but before I could speak, Julian Thorne appeared behind her. He glanced at my right leg with open contempt. “Serena, our parents are waiting. Just pay him and let’s go. We don’t need a cripple trying to cause trouble.” The words died in my throat. As a former stepbrother and an ex-lover, a disabled man with a rape conviction had no place in Serena Croft’s world. The other drivers, my co-workers, started gathering around, trying to smooth things over. “Ethan’s not the type to shake people down. He’s a good guy…” Another one tugged at my arm, whispering, “She’s driving a G-Wagon, man. Doesn’t matter whose fault it is, it’s our fault. Just apologize.” Serena’s knuckles were white where she gripped her dress. She stared at me, her eyes growing redder by the second. “Don’t you have anything to say to me?” The glare of surrounding headlights made my head throb. I closed my eyes for a long moment, then spoke, my voice a rasp. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” In an instant, her expression shifted. The wounded sorrow vanished, replaced by the same sharp, aggressive woman I remembered from years ago. She turned her head with a cold laugh, then lunged forward and grabbed me by the collar, her eyes glinting dangerously. “John West, is it? You just wait.” She gave me one last deep, unreadable look before letting Julian wrap an arm around her waist and lead her back to their car. The engine roared to life. It wasn’t until the taillights disappeared down the street that I clutched my chest and finally let out a long, ragged breath. Five years. Five years since I’d last seen her. The pain I’d buried deep came coiling back like a venomous vine. Knowing her, this wasn’t over. Sure enough, at ten o’clock that night, the call came from the cab company. “John, don’t bother coming in tomorrow. We got a complaint about you driving with a disability. The company can’t take that risk.” “I’ll give you severance. The money will be in your account by morning. Consider this your last night.” I held my breath, clinging to a final, foolish sliver of hope. “Who filed the complaint?” “Some guy named Thorne. The woman was even worse. Threatened to report us to the IRS if we didn’t fire you.” A small-time operation like ours wouldn’t survive an audit. I forced a bitter laugh, said a few words, and hung up. Sitting in the damp, mildewed corner of my room, I felt like I was back in the sweltering heat of that afternoon five years ago. All because I had refused Serena’s demand that we start dating, she had gone to my father and told him I, her step-brother, had “improper thoughts” about her. That night, my father broke three steel pipes over my back in the grand hall of our family home. The skin split, the bones fractured. My step-mother cried and tried to intervene, but my father’s eyes were filled with a righteous fury. “I’ll beat the filth out of this animal until he learns his place!” As they carried me to the hospital, Serena followed behind, a triumphant smile on her face. “Julian was right. You have to be cruel to break someone who plays hard to get.” The pain was so blinding I didn’t fully register her words at the time. But from that day on, Julian Thorne became a constant presence in our lives. The next day, I called my old contacts, trying to find another driving gig. The answer was always the same sigh. “Did you piss someone off, Ethan?” “They hear your name and just shake their heads. They’re afraid of getting hit with an audit. Maybe you should lay low for a while?” I knew it was her. She was squeezing me, trying to force me to admit who I was, to come crawling back to her. I looked at my reflection in the mirror—prematurely gray, exhausted, a broken body. I was no longer the “Star of the Force,” the most promising young cop in Port Sterling. Was this twisted game of hers even worth playing? A loud, insistent knocking at the door startled me. I dragged my prosthetic into place and opened it. Serena stood there, a cigarette dangling from her fingers, her eyes cold. “Ethan Vance. You’re coming back home with me.” “We’ll forget the past. We can start over.” She reached out, her pale fingers tracing the line of my jaw, her expression one of profound love. The words were so absurd, I wanted to laugh. And I did. “The person you love most?” Serena nodded, her eyes shining. “Yes.” “Then what about Julian Thorne? The news of your engagement is everywhere.” I tried to smile, but my lips wouldn’t cooperate. “I thought you were dead… They all said you died in that explosion. I had to…” “You had to what? Play the grieving lover while you were screwing Julian Thorne?” My words turned her helpless expression to pure rage. “You were dead! What else was I supposed to do?” she shrieked, her chest heaving. She looked exactly as she had the day she found out I’d enrolled in the police academy. Back then, we had been secretly dating, hiding our relationship from our parents. I couldn’t say if it was love that had grown over time or if she’d simply won me over with the taste of her mother’s homemade cooking. My father’s beating had backfired; after I healed, we became inseparable. She would laugh and run her fingers through my hair, sneak into my bed in the middle of the night to hold me. Those first green shoots of a future, of a life together, had just begun to break through the soil. And then they were crushed. The night I got my acceptance letter from the academy, she stared at me in shock. “You’re not going abroad with me?” I shook my head, trying to reason with her. “The family business will be yours one day. I want to inherit my uncle’s badge number.” I braced myself for a fight. Instead, she was unnervingly calm. She just told me to take care of myself and left for Europe alone. Years later, she returned. At her welcome-home party, she stood before our families and the city’s elite, pointing to her torn dress, and accused me of attempted rape. She showed them the bruises on her neck, on her arms. The marks of our lovemaking from the night before had become the weapons used to destroy me. My step-mother screamed at me, calling me a disgusting animal. My father, without asking a single question, slapped me across the face again and again. The city’s high society watched, pretending to intervene while whispering that I was playing some sick game, using a taboo relationship to get back at my father for his own past infidelities. I grabbed Serena by the throat, demanding to know why. Why was she lying? She whispered, so only I could hear, “Ethan, I’m doing this for your own good!” Then, her voice rose to a scream. “I have proof! I’m not lying!” Right on cue, Julian Thorne burst in with a lab report. “The DNA found on Serena’s person has been confirmed. It belongs to Ethan Vance.” Serena collapsed into his arms, sobbing. “Brother, please… don’t keep doing this…” Overnight, I became a pariah. The step-brother molester. The rapist. The promising young cop was now a cockroach to be crushed. My father, in his rage, refused to listen to a word I said. He had me charged and put on trial, determined to see me “reflect” in a prison cell. In the end, it was Serena who signed the victim’s statement, agreeing to drop the charges. The day I was released, she was waiting for me, her laughter bordering on hysterical. “Stop fighting me. You can’t be a cop anymore. Just relax and be my man.” I stared at her beautiful, triumphant face and felt a chill cut straight to my bones. I turned away and pointed to the door of my small apartment. “Get out. You’re not welcome here.” She just laughed again, pulling a document from her purse and tossing it at me. “See this? I bought the building. This is my house now.” Her voice softened, pleading. “I told you, I still love you. If you just come back to me, Julian and I will only ever be friends.” My fists clenched so hard I bit through my tongue to keep from screaming. “What the hell do you want from me? Can you and Julian Thorne just get out of my life? Can you just leave?” “I don’t want to see you! Not for the rest of my life!” I used to think time healed all wounds. What a fucking lie. The betrayal of the woman I loved. The distrust of my own father. The death of my dream, the ruin of my body… Everything I was, everything I had, was destroyed by her. And she has the gall to stand here and tell me she still loves me? I laughed, a raw, broken sound that shook my whole body. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. The anger that had been rising in Serena’s eyes died when she saw the wetness on my cheeks. She reached out to touch me, but I slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch me! What’s it going to be this time? Are you going to accuse me of a second rape?” The color drained from her face. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. I held her gaze as I reached down and unfastened the buckle on my thigh. I yanked the prosthetic off and hurled it against the far wall of the hallway. Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound echoed in the dead silence. Serena’s eyes widened in horror, fixed on the empty space where my right leg used to be. A strangled, gasping sound escaped her throat. My voice was a ragged whisper, laced with the bitter satisfaction of revenge. “Unfortunately, this broken body probably can’t give you what you want.” A moment later, a choked, sobbing question cut through the air. “Your leg… what happened to your leg?” Yes. What happened? I stood in the shadows, letting the tears and snot run freely down my face. By signing that statement, Serena had become the family’s savior. That same day, my father announced she would be the new heir to the family corporation. She ascended to the very pinnacle of Port Sterling’s elite. Not long after, I got a call. Serena had been kidnapped. I’d crossed paths with this crew before. I knew they were ruthless. They didn’t negotiate; they just killed their hostages. Her voice on the phone was terrified. “Ethan, I was wrong, I’m so sorry, please, come save me!” “I didn’t want you to be a cop because I was afraid you’d get killed… I love you so much, I couldn’t let you die…” I thought my heart was too scarred to feel anything. But hearing her cry, I softened. I contacted my old unit while I gathered the ransom money and went to the drop point alone. But when I got there, only Julian Thorne was waiting. “Where’s Serena?” I demanded. He turned slowly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Ethan Vance, you really are a fool. The kidnapping was fake. The ransom was fake.” “The only real thing is your death. There’s a bomb three feet in front of you. Move, and it goes off.” My police instincts screamed. “Who are you?” He smiled. “Let’s just say I’m the drug lord you’ve been hunting. The one they call ‘Thorne.’” “You’ve been looking for me for so long. And here I was, right beside your precious Serena the whole time. In fact, turning you into a rapist? That was my idea.” He savored the look of horror on my face, then held out his phone. On the screen, Serena was straddling him, her face flushed with pleasure. In the video, Julian asked, “Aren’t you worried Ethan won’t come back tomorrow?” Serena laughed. “They won’t kill him. They’ll just rough him up a bit. He’s tough, he won’t die.” The rest of the video was a sickening mix of their moans and laughter. “While you were waiting for her back home,” Julian sneered, “we were in bed together every night in Europe. That little toy you bought her before she left came in very handy for me…” My hands balled into fists. “I’ll give you a chance,” he said magnanimously. “Call her. If you can convince her to come save you, I’ll let you go.” I looked at the smug bastard, dialed Serena’s number, and spoke the moment she answered. “Serena, listen to me. Julian is a liar. He’s a drug lord. He’s set a trap for me. Call the police, now!” There was a pause on the other end, then a cold laugh. “Ethan, stop trying to drive a wedge between Julian and me. Just because he helped me, you don’t have to slander him like this.” “So you’ll believe him, even if it means I die?” “Die first. Then we’ll talk.” She hung up. In my final moments, she chose him. Then, the bomb went off. “I survived,” I told the woman standing in my hallway, “but I lost a leg. I became ‘John West’ and lived like a stray dog. And now you’ve found me, just to grind me further into the dirt. Are you satisfied?” Compared to my calm, Serena was frantic. She shook her head, her voice trembling. “No… Julian wouldn’t do that…” People only believe what they want to believe. Even with me standing before her, a crippled wreck, she still believed him. But it didn’t matter anymore. I picked up my prosthetic. As I turned to leave, she grabbed my sleeve. “You can stay. I’ll go…” I was exhausted. The stump of my leg ached. I just turned and shut the door in her face. When I woke up, I wasn’t in my bed. I was in a deserted field. Julian Thorne smiled, squatting down beside me. “Ethan Vance, you’re a hard man to kill. But this time, you die for good.” He brought his foot down, grinding his heel into what was left of my right leg. Then the clubs and pipes began to fall. Pain crashed over me from all directions. The feeling of suffocation was absolute, my ribs splintering under the blows. I passed out, only to be woken by fresh agony. Every bone in my body screamed. My eyelids were glued shut with blood. My fingers twitched, closing around the tiny GPS locator hidden under my thumbnail. “This bastard cost us a lot of good men,” one of them snarled. “Can’t believe he’s still alive. Finish him!” Another kick slammed into my head. As my consciousness faded, I thought I heard Serena’s voice coming from a phone nearby. “Julian, Ethan’s leg… was that you?” “It was me,” he said. “But only because I love you so much…” There was a long silence on the phone, then a sigh. “Well, don’t do it again. I’ll send him some money to make up for it.” Hearing her pathetic, self-serving “compensation,” I closed my eyes and smiled. It was a smile of pure release. The South Precinct was only a five-minute drive from here. They weren’t getting away. Uncle, rest in peace. The man who killed you… I got him for you. It just cost me my life.

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When I was tormented by depression to the point of slashing my wrists, my CEO husband was holding a “wedding of the century” with the woman who used to bully me. In my final moments of clarity, I spread the evidence of my bullying all over the internet and confronted my husband with red eyes in front of everyone. He blamed me for making a fuss over nothing, causing his “white moonlight”—the love of his life—to fail her studies. To please her, he locked me in a mental hospital and accompanied her back to college to finish her degree. Three years later, the woman, who was in the same major as me, needed a graduation thesis. Only then did my husband mercifully remember me and call the mental hospital. The staff looked confused: “Miss Lowe left three years ago after a depressive episode and hasn’t returned.” Furious, blaming me for being insensible, he called my number. His biological mother answered the phone. Hearing my name, my mother-in-law choked up: “Young man, my daughter-in-law passed away three years ago.” 1 Ethan Ford rushed to the countryside overnight and kicked down the dilapidated front door. Hearing the commotion, my mother-in-law limped out on crutches. It had been too long. Not only did she not recognize her son, but Ethan also didn’t recognize his mother. He roared: “Where is Lauren? Where is she? Tell her to get out here! Chloe needs to submit her thesis soon. If she delays Chloe’s graduation, I’ll make her pay!” My mother-in-law trembled at the shout, her voice shaking. “Young man, my daughter-in-law has passed away.” Ethan froze, scanning her aged face, failing to recognize the eyes that were identical to his own. “Who cares if your daughter-in-law is dead? I want Lauren! Hurry up, don’t waste my time!” “Lauren is my daughter-in-law.” My mother-in-law pointed to my black-and-white photo on the wall, tears welling up in her eyes. “She passed away three years ago…” Ethan’s gaze fell on my photo. At twenty-five, I should have been sunny and bright, but depression had made me gaunt and gloomy. “Lauren is really dead?” Ethan snatched the photo, not waiting for an answer, and smashed the frame on the ground, roaring. “How could Lauren die? A woman who didn’t die after three years of bullying, how could she be dead? I know, she’s hiding because she doesn’t want to write Chloe’s thesis, so she used this photo to scare me!” Ethan stomped viciously on my photo. I instinctively tried to stop my mother-in-law from lunging forward, but my hand passed straight through her withered body. Yes, I’m dead. I died three years ago… My mother-in-law grabbed Ethan’s leg, her palm pressing onto the sharp glass shards. “Don’t touch my daughter-in-law!” 2 Ethan stomped on her hand along with the shards, blood spreading instantly. Watching my mother-in-law scream my name heart-wrenchingly, anger burned in Ethan’s eyes. “Is Lauren really your daughter-in-law?” She nodded repeatedly, trying to pull my photo from under his shoe. But Ethan kicked her in the chin, leaving a long bloody streak as she fell backward. “Great! Lauren has some nerve! Not only did she sneak out of the mental hospital behind my back and make me worry, but she also married another man!” “Speak! Where are your son and Lauren now? Daring to steal my woman, you and your son must have a death wish!” No! When Ethan sent me to the mental hospital, I discovered that his mother wasn’t dead. His father had an affair and locked his mother, who had just given birth, in the mental hospital. When I was humiliated by people arranged by Chloe, it was my mother-in-law who stepped up to protect me. Later, when I escaped from the hospital to return to my hometown, I decisively took her with me. Not long after, I jumped off a building. Ethan kicked my mother-in-law, each blow more vicious than the last. She curled up amidst the glass shards, wailing in pain, her clothes gradually soaked in blood. In that year of depending on each other, I had long treated her as my own mother. My heart twisted in pain as I tried desperately to pry Ethan’s leg away. “Ethan, stop! This is your biological mother!!” However, Ethan’s shoe passed through my soul, kicking her aged body again and again. “Where is Lauren? Tell her and that wild man to get out here! Even my mom didn’t get to call her daughter-in-law, what right do you have, you old hag!” I could only watch helplessly as she was beaten. My heart felt like it was being torn in two. Ethan, this is your mother! And I died long ago! Driven to death by you and Chloe three years ago! 3 Before I died, I was powerless to change our fates. After death, I could only kneel on the ground, begging Ethan to spare her. In my deepest despair, my brother, just off his night shift, rushed in, limping on one leg to shield my mother-in-law. “You animal! Isn’t killing Lauren enough? You want to kill your own mother too?!” “My mother?” Ethan kicked my brother hard. “My mom died when I was born! How could this filthy, stinking old hag who looks like a beggar be my mom?” “Lauren ran off with a wild man, so she left you and this old hag here as a cover, right?” “You better tell her to get back here right now and write that thesis for Chloe, or I’ll pay back the pain she inflicted on Chloe a thousand times over!” Wasn’t it he and Chloe who inflicted the pain? Back then, Chloe appeared at our wedding, pretending to kneel and beg for forgiveness. Ethan helped her up with heartache, scolding me for making a mountain out of a molehill, causing Chloe to fail her studies. He demanded I publicly clear Chloe’s name. When I refused, he started giving me the cold shoulder to accompany Chloe, calling me petty. When my depression relapsed, he forcibly sent me to a mental hospital. Facing the doctor’s advice, he sneered. “Depression? It’s just a tactic for attention. Chloe would never be unreasonable like you.” Then he used his money and power to get Chloe back into college to finish her degree. When I jumped in despair, he was locking down an amusement park to cheer Chloe up, spending the whole night with her. My brother blocked him from my mother-in-law. “Ethan, I beg you, go check the hospital records, okay? Lauren is really dead.” Ethan scoffed. “You think I’d believe your nonsense? The staff at the mental hospital already confessed to me. Lauren was flirting with other men while hospitalized. Who knows, maybe this old hag’s son is the one she hooked up with back then!” There was none! It was clearly the people Chloe arranged to bully me! A simple check of the surveillance would have revealed the truth, but Ethan refused to look even once. Clearly, I was his wife, but he preferred to believe staff he’d barely met. My brother hugged Ethan’s leg, begging. “Ethan, after Lauren brought your mom home, her condition worsened. We emptied our savings to treat her, but it didn’t work. Not wanting to be a burden, she jumped from the hospital building. She’s really dead!” “Shut up! One more word about this old hag being related to me, and I won’t spare you!” “Besides, I gave your family a huge compensation. How could you have no money? Lauren must have given it all to that wild man, right?” 4 “Lauren came back penniless! There was no compensation!” Ethan stepped on my brother’s good leg. “Still lying? What benefits did Lauren give you and this old hag to protect her like this?” At Ethan’s signal, bodyguards entered and started beating my brother and mother-in-law. My brother had only one leg, and my mother-in-law was too old. They couldn’t run. They could only curl up on the ground, screaming. I spread my arms, throwing myself over them, trying to block the rain of punches and kicks, but I only saw their bruised and swollen faces. I stood up and pounded on Ethan, wishing I could cut him into a thousand pieces. But I couldn’t attract his attention for even a moment. “Stop hitting them! Ethan, please stop! This is your birth mother! I only have this one brother left! I really am dead…” My mother-in-law was beaten to the brink of death. My brother propped himself up, roaring in anger. “Ethan, this is your biological mother! Aren’t you afraid of divine retribution?!” Ethan kicked my brother in the jaw, sneering. “Just as fearless of death as Lauren. My mom died long ago! What does this old hag’s son have over me that Lauren dared to cheat on me with him?” “Don’t forget how you lost your leg and your dad. Tell Lauren to bring that wild man back and kowtow to me in apology. For the sake of our marriage, as long as she promises to be obedient from now on, I can forgive her!” Back then, Chloe’s single “I didn’t mean to” lightly erased three years of her bullying me. Ethan saw my scarred body with his own eyes, yet firmly believed I was exaggerating, causing Chloe to suffer cyberbullying for years and fail her studies. When I refused to admit it, he threatened me with my family. My brother was the most popular dancer in his troupe, but Ethan spread rumors that he bullied others, leading to cyberbullying and him losing his job. My dad was a rideshare driver. People arranged by Ethan staged accidents, saddling him with huge debts. After selling everything to pay the debts, my brother and dad huddled in a basement, eating steamed buns dipped in water to save money. Even then, Ethan wasn’t satisfied. He sent debt collectors, forcing them into a corner. 5 At that time, newly pregnant, I knelt in the rain begging Ethan to spare my family, promising to help clear Chloe’s name. Only after I miscarried did he relent and let my family go. Afterward, when my brother and dad came to the hospital, Chloe set a trap to let us escape, whispering poison in Ethan’s ear. Ethan intercepted us. My brother’s right leg was forcibly cut off, and my dad was thrown into the sea by Ethan. Three years ago, I knelt desperately before Ethan, swearing to be obedient, begging him to retrieve my dad’s body. He said my dad didn’t deserve it. Three years later, I could still only watch helplessly as he hurt the people I loved. Just then, Ethan’s personal assistant walked into the room. “Mr. Ford, Miss Chloe’s bodyguard says her puppy is missing, and she went out barefoot to look for it.” At the mention of Chloe, the anger on Ethan’s face vanished instantly. He frowned helplessly. “Nonsense. In this weather, how could they let her go out barefoot? What if she catches a cold? I’m going back to find her.” As he was leaving, a bodyguard asked, “Mr. Ford, what about these two?” Ethan said impatiently, “Keep beating them. Beat them until they give up Lauren’s location.” I looked at the bright sun outside, feeling a wave of bitterness. In Ethan’s heart, Chloe’s affairs were always number one. No matter how heinous her actions, a single tear could resolve everything. But clearly, I was his wife! My soul followed Ethan back to the home now occupied by Chloe. I watched him take off his shoes, carefully wipe Chloe’s feet clean, and put them on her. He scolded her for risking herself for a dog, yet ignored his bespoke suit to dive into thorny bushes to find the puppy for her. Finally, he gently placed the puppy in her arms and walked her home with his arm around her. On the way, Chloe said hypocritically, “Ethan, how about I go with you to find Lauren tomorrow? She must still be mad at me.” Chloe’s high-sounding words made me sick. If not for her fanning the flames and fabricating lies in front of Ethan, how could I have become a corpse! Ethan didn’t hear the falseness in her words at all, scoffing. “What right does she have to be mad? You didn’t do it on purpose back then. She’s just petty, holding a grudge for so many years?” “I haven’t even gotten angry about her running off with a wild man, leaving an old hag calling her daughter-in-law. It disgusts me!”

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After getting amnesia, I forgot I was once the vicious villainess in everyone’s story. I sent a mass text to my friends apologizing: [So sorry, I’ve lost my memory. Could you tell me who you are…?] My phone instantly received four replies. The cold childhood friend I bullied: [Is this another new torture method? I left food downstairs for you. Remember to eat.] The loyal stepbrother I tormented: [Are you still mad at your big brother? I transferred some allowance to your card. I’ll be back tonight to keep you company.] The cool girl heroine I pranked: [Acting again? If you have amnesia, go back to sleep. I signed in for you in class.] Me: “?” Did I actually have the “everyone loves me” script all along? 1 Doctors and nurses bustled back and forth in the hospital room, the air thick with the smell of disinfectant. I propped myself up, my head spinning. Not far away, a doctor was chatting with a middle-aged man. “How is her condition now?” “Miss Sterling’s amnesia isn’t too severe at the moment; she’ll just forget certain specific people…” Listening to their conversation, I froze slightly. Amnesia? How could I have amnesia? “I don’t think I have amnesia!” I couldn’t help but interject: “I remember my name is Chloe Sterling, my dad is William Sterling, and my mom is Katherine.” The middle-aged man turned around and asked me kindly: “Then does Miss remember my name?” I nodded quickly: “Of course, you’re the family butler, Uncle Lee.” The man was silent for a long time, his expression complex: “Miss… I’m your family’s driver, and my surname isn’t Lee, it’s Liu.” Me: “?” He sighed and said to the doctor: “Then please take care of her. I’ll go contact her parents first.” From their brief chat, I learned that I had accidentally fallen down the stairs at the library, fell into a coma, and was brought to the hospital by a classmate. After they left the ward. I started looking through my phone as if waking from a dream. Among the pinned contacts, if not for my parents whom I recognized, I would have suspected this wasn’t my phone. A person nicknamed “Cold Monster” sent two messages at just the right time. [Come downstairs in thirty minutes to get your takeout.] [I’m too lazy to find someone to bring it up to you.] I racked my brains but couldn’t remember who this person was. I could only ask him: [Are you buying me lunch?] The reply came quickly, but every word seemed prickly. [Buying lunch for the young miss is my duty.] [But next time, if you want something outside the cafeteria, can you say so in advance?] [Otherwise, waiting in line for half an hour delays your meal time.] This guy is quite polite. But now is not the time to eat. I hurriedly replied: [No need, not eating today.] The other side was silent for a while. Although I couldn’t see the face on the other end, I felt a faint anger. [Just because the breakfast this morning wasn’t to your taste?] [So you’re angry again?] I quickly explained: [No, it’s because I have amnesia qwq.] The other side scoffed: [Is this another new way Miss Sterling came up with to torture me?] Me: “?” Am I that bad? Afraid he wouldn’t believe me, I took a photo and sent it to him. [Really not lying to you, I’m lying in a hospital bed right now.] For a long time, there was no reply. Probably fainted from anger, or too lazy to deal with me. I scrolled through the chat history with him. This “Cold Monster” routinely helped me get food, pick up packages, and buy boba tea. Sometimes he even took orders to tutor me or let me copy answers for exams. But my attitude towards him was really unfriendly. Even my tone was bossy. A wave of guilt washed over me. How could I talk to a classmate like that? “Chloe Sterling—” The ward door was suddenly pushed open, and a boy rushed in. He wore a simple white short-sleeved shirt, handsome features, excellent bone structure. Even the fingers holding the takeout box were fair and slender. I was momentarily dazed. Some people may have lost their memory. But their lustful nature hasn’t changed. The standard for their ideal type hasn’t changed either. I looked up at him and asked carefully: “You are?” The boy stiffened. He pursed his lips, lowered his eyes and asked: “You don’t remember who I am?” I frowned in thought: “Are you Cold Monster?” His expression was complicated: “…My name is Julian.” Julian reached out to check the injury on my forehead: “Fell down the stairs? Is it serious?” Seeing me dazed, he stiffly lowered his hand, his tone cold. “I’m not worried about you; I’m afraid if you hit your head, you’ll blame it on me again.” In just a few sentences, he sketched out my former selfish and willful appearance. My guilt deepened. Seeing I didn’t speak, he asked in a low voice: “Really don’t remember who I am?” I answered honestly: “Don’t remember, but looking at the chat history, you seem to be someone who runs errands for me often.” Julian: “…Not exactly.” I looked up suspiciously, and he took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “We are childhood sweethearts.” Seeing I didn’t make a sound, Julian added indifferently. “Of course, we were also engaged before.” I was shocked: “Huh? But looking at the chat history, it doesn’t seem like it…” Thought we were just unfamiliar classmates. Julian laughed out of anger: “If not for this relationship, who would be willing to run errands for you every day?!” “Who would specifically buy you food and save seats for you?” I argued in confusion: “But you just said, getting food for me is your duty.” Julian raised his eyelids lightly: “Yes, isn’t that the duty of a fiancé?” Just then, Driver Liu entered the ward and was a bit surprised to see Julian. “Julian is here?” Julian politely got up to say hello and smiled: “I came to see her.” Uncle Liu was about to find a chair to sit down when he was startled by Julian’s words. “By the way, Uncle Liu, Chloe doesn’t believe we grew up together.” “Tell her, are we engaged?” Uncle Liu’s eyes widened: “Huh?” He looked at Julian, whose expression was normal, then at me, full of questions. After pondering for a moment, he nodded with a complicated expression. “Um… yes, indeed.” 2 The first person I saw when I woke up was Uncle Liu. Plus he ran around helping me with procedures and contacting my parents, invisibly I already had some trust in him. Seeing Julian’s expression didn’t look like a joke. I felt a secret joy in my heart. Ideal type turned into a fiancé. Feeling like I hit the jackpot! Sure enough, even with amnesia, you fall in love with the person you liked at first sight. When Uncle Liu went out to take a call. Julian put the lunch box on the rolling table and handed me utensils. “Eat first.” I glanced at it and smiled: “What a coincidence, all my favorites.” Julian lowered his eyes to ladle soup for me, his tone calm. “Not a coincidence, this is the menu you specifically ordered this morning.” I felt guilty: “…Isn’t that too much trouble for you.” Julian wiped his hands with a tissue, his voice indifferent. “Not just troublesome for this one day.” “Used to it.” Feeling more pity, I tugged at his sleeve: “Then let’s eat together?” Julian stiffened. He touched his nose and coughed twice: “I only bought one portion.” I was puzzled again: “Don’t we usually eat together?” Julian turned his head away, pretending to look at the scenery outside the window: “…We do eat together, just that I’ve eaten today.” I didn’t suspect anything and relaxed. While he drank water, I ate and chatted with him. “Julian, actually the moment I saw you, I felt like I remembered.” He choked on the water unexpectedly and coughed violently. Almost lost his composure. “Remembered?” Julian’s voice sounded a bit strange, no longer the calm self-control he had when we first met. I nodded: “Yes, seeing you at first sight, I felt we were a good match.” “Sure enough, we are engaged; you really are my destined husband.” I laughed: “And although I have amnesia, my standard for an ideal type hasn’t changed.” “My imagined husband is just like you.” Julian: “…” A blush gradually appeared on his jade-like face, and his ears were dripping red. Julian got up in a panic, almost knocking over the rolling table. Me: “?” Julian tried hard to stabilize his mind, but his flushed cheeks betrayed his current mood. He shook the phone in his hand. “Um… just got a notification from the group, need to go back.” “Have to submit materials to the professor this afternoon.” I advised understandingly: “Then go back quickly! I’m much better; I’ll probably be fine after resting by myself this afternoon.” Julian nodded and softened his tone: “I’ll come see you later.” He almost fled out of the ward. I couldn’t help sighing that grad school is tough these days. The professor’s message is like a death warrant. Uncle Liu just returned from outside the ward, surprised to see me alone: “Julian left?” I nodded and said with a smile: “Yes, he said he’ll come see me later.” Uncle Liu breathed a sigh of relief and discussed with me again. “The doctor means it’s best for a relative to come to the hospital.” “Your parents are abroad and can’t come back immediately. How about I contact your brother?” Brother? I have a brother? Seeing my blank face, Uncle Liu looked like he expected it. He took my phone, tapped on the screen, and handed it back to me. “This is your brother.” I looked down. An avatar of a Beagle wearing sunglasses came into view. The contact name: “Coin-Exploding Wishing Machine” The daily conversations in the chat box were pitifully few, almost entirely transfer records. And if someone made me angry, he helped solve it immediately. The speed was like I bought insurance for overtime. “Chloe, you might not remember, Chase is your brother, but not biological. He’s the child your parents adopted.” “He’s three years older than you and takes care of you usually.” Uncle Liu explained to me. Understanding, I sent a message to him. [Brother.] He replied almost instantly. Sent fifty question marks in a row. Although I didn’t understand what he was surprised about, I honestly continued typing. [Are you free now?] Coin-Exploding Wishing Machine: [Free! What’s wrong? Who bullied you again?] Coin-Exploding Wishing Machine: [Send me his personal info, I’ll deal with him.] Coin-Exploding Wishing Machine: [Need allowance? I’ll transfer immediately.] Coin-Exploding Wishing Machine: [And what did you just call me? Can you call me that again TvT…] What a weird brother. What a weird request. But I satisfied him: [Brother, can you come to the hospital?] He sent another row of question marks. Immediately, a voice call slammed in. I always hated answering calls. Even after amnesia. So I mercilessly clicked reject. Coin-Exploding Wishing Machine: [? Why not answer the phone? What happened?] Coin-Exploding Wishing Machine: [Scammer, right?!] Coin-Exploding Wishing Machine: [Telecommunication fraud die whole family ha, return the account to her, or I’ll kill you.] Me: […Don’t want to answer, too lazy to answer.] Coin-Exploding Wishing Machine: [Oh, that’s her.] Me: [I have amnesia.] He sent another row of question marks. Really fits his avatar’s daily state. Coin-Exploding Wishing Machine: [Then do you remember who I am?] I got a bit annoyed: [Yes, aren’t you Brother?] Coin-Exploding Wishing Machine: [Yes yes!! Just your favorite brother!!] Don’t add strange adjectives to yourself, okay. I pretended not to see: [If you are free, can you come to the hospital? The doctor wants to see family.] Coin-Exploding Wishing Machine: [Send address.] After sending the location, afraid he would worry, I added: [Don’t worry, my condition isn’t very serious.] Coin-Exploding Wishing Machine: [Mm-hmm, Brother will be there right away ^^.] I comforted him: [No rush, Uncle Liu is with me in the ward. My fiancé just came to see me too.] The other side was silent for a moment. Soon, another row of shocked question marks. Coin-Exploding Wishing Machine: [Fiancé?? Who the hell is that!!?] 3 Before long, Chase arrived in a hurry. He was still wearing a suit shirt, but his sharp short hair and left ear piercing were out of place with this outfit. “Chloe…” Chase sat by my bed, his face full of emotion and expectation: “So after amnesia, you only remember me?” Me: “Uh, actually I didn’t remember you either…” Chase: “?” I held out the phone to him and said kindly: “Uncle Liu told me the person with this avatar is my brother.” Chase took the phone, glanced at it, and his mouth twitched: “Why am I called ‘Coin-Exploding Wishing Machine’?” I feel like everyone I met today should be hospitalized instead of me. “If I knew, would it still be called amnesia?” Chase: “Makes sense…” Although my stepbrother looks unreliable, he is my only relative right now. I tugged at his sleeve and whispered: “Brother, can I be discharged? I want to go home.” Chase’s heart softened into a mess: “No problem! I’ll handle the procedures right away!” He walked quickly to the door, then turned back and cleared his throat. “By the way Chloe, forgot to tell you one thing.” I looked up suspiciously. Chase took a deep breath and whispered seriously: “At home, you always call me Big Brother.” … Half an hour later, I was in the car going home. Chase kept asking beside me: “Want a drink? Want snacks?” I shook my head and smiled: “No need, Big Brother.” Chase: “Ah… then want to listen to music? Play games?” I continued to shake my head: “Thank you Big Brother, no need to trouble yourself.” Chase savored the address carefully, then withdrew his gaze with satisfaction. I looked through the chat history and raised a question: “Big Brother, why do I feel like our relationship wasn’t good before?” Chase bristled like a wild dog: “Who said that! Who said that!” I handed the phone to him and said honestly: “I saw it myself, and my tone talking to you wasn’t very good…” Chase was moved almost to tears. “Where is it not good? I think it’s especially good.” Me: “?” Bro, are you okay? In the chat history, I usually ordered Chase around like a dog. Any dissatisfaction would result in scolding him bloody. Yet Chase didn’t resist or defend himself, just endured silently. Finally, he would say: [Don’t be angry, it’s all Brother’s fault. Transferred money to you, go buy a bag and be happy.] Why am I so bad! Chase listed my virtues: “Look, usually when someone bullies you, you ask me to beat them up. Isn’t this caring about Brother’s health, afraid Brother will become a greasy man with a beer belly, letting Brother exercise and move his muscles anytime?” “Also, every week you ask me to send you money. Why? That’s because you know Brother spends money recklessly. You directly stopped Brother’s waste from the source. Besides, you didn’t buy scrap metal; you bought gold and luxury bags. What is this? This is maintaining value! You are managing finances for Brother!” “Like usually you speak a bit directly, but it doesn’t matter. We are family. As the saying goes, the people who love you most say the most hurtful things. You love me the most, so I completely understand.” Me: “?” The car drove into a villa area. When I got off, Chase held an umbrella for me. He suddenly asked: “By the way, you said your fiancé came to see you before. Who is it?” I smiled and said: “He said his name is Julian. Do you know him?” Chase fell silent. After a long time, he gritted his teeth and said. “Damn, home got stolen.” “If he says any sweet words, don’t believe him.” “This kind of person looks harmless and kind on the outside, but is actually rotten to the core, best at deceiving people.” Just as the voice fell, a sneer came from ahead. “Are you introducing yourself?” 4 I looked at the girl standing on the stairs. She crossed her arms and looked at us with a half-smile. I looked at Chase beside me in confusion. Didn’t you say I only have one brother? Do I have a sister? Chase: “Uh… she is… Layla.” When saying this, Chase carefully gauged my reaction. “She’s the daughter of Auntie Wang, the housekeeper.” “Her house is being renovated recently, so Mom and Dad asked her to stay at our house on weekends for a few days.” Earlier in the car, driver Uncle Liu mentioned there was a nanny who had taken care of us for over twenty years. Should be Auntie Wang. Seeing no reaction from me, Chase whispered in my ear: “Ignore her, let’s go rest in the room first.” “Don’t forget to take your medicine later.” Hearing this, Layla raised an eyebrow slightly. But she still nonchalantly stepped aside to let me pass. Until I walked up the stairs, I still saw Layla standing by the gate downstairs. Sensing my gaze, she lifted her eyelids and glanced at me. Layla is very beautiful. To the extent that you’d look back if you met her on the street. Peach blossom eyes slightly upturned, adding a bit of coldness. I tilted my head, smiled, and waved at her. Layla was stunned for a moment. Early the next morning, I received several video calls from my parents. My mom was crying on the other end of the screen. I comforted and coaxed her, saying the doctor would come to check my recovery anytime. Only then did they relax. Just hung up the phone, noise came from downstairs. I shuffled in my slippers and looked down. Chase and Julian both looked unhappy. Layla on the side sat calmly on the sofa watching TV. Chase gritted his teeth and glared: “You actually took advantage of her amnesia to say you’re her fiancé?! Have you no shame!” Julian poured himself a glass of water as if no one was around. “I didn’t say anything wrong; we were engaged.” Chase was so angry he wanted to punch him. “You call that an engagement? Neither of you came to the engagement party. You were like enemies before, fighting whenever you met!” “You also hated that she always used her fiancée status to order you around. Why don’t you mention these?” Julian thoughtfully corrected the error in his words: “Not really, our relationship was pretty good before high school. You remembered wrong.” “Is that the point?” Chase was about to faint from anger: “Never seen someone so shameless.” Layla, who had been watching for a long time, spoke lazily. “Don’t be so surprised. I think you’re pretty shameless too.” Chase: “?” Layla yawned: “Insisting on making her call you Big Brother. Clearly at home you don’t even deserve a name; hasn’t your code name always been ‘Hey’?” “Also saying she clings to you the most at home. I think you were the clingy plaster before.” Chase finally reacted, laughing in anger: “Busy teaching Julian a lesson, forgot about you.” “Layla, this is my house! What’s with your tone!” Layla looked up indifferently: “I know. If your parents didn’t ask me to stay, you think I’d want to be here?” The atmosphere between the three downstairs was tense, arguing so much they forgot everything else. I hesitated for a moment and spoke up. “What are you talking about?” The three looked up sharply at me on the second floor. Chase reacted first, quickly putting on a smile: “Chloe, we’re chatting.” Me: “?” Is your chatting tone a bit too ferocious? I tilted my head, looking past him to Julian behind: “Julian, why are you here too?” Julian rightfully pushed Chase aside and walked towards me. His tone was much softer: “I came to pick you up back to school.” Chase grabbed his collar: “Need you to pick her up? Think I’m dead?” Both looked at me: “Chloe?” Me: “…” My gaze fell on Layla, who was drinking tea with lowered eyes, unconcerned. “Layla, do you also study at S University?” Seeming not to expect the topic to return to her. Layla was drinking tea and choked unexpectedly. She wiped her mouth calmly with a tissue, looked up at me with a complicated expression: “Yes, why?” I smiled, eyes bright. “Then I’ll go back with you.”

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