Category: English

1 The moment a college girl seven years my junior confessed her feelings to me, my girlfriend was in the crowd, a quiet spectator. We had been together for a year. In all that time, Kathy had never shown a flicker of jealousy. She always said, with a detached sort of grace, that she believed in giving me my freedom. I thought she was just naturally reserved, cool-headed. That was until I stumbled upon her ex-boyfriend’s old social media account. For him, she had made a sixty-mile journey across the city every single day, rain or shine. If he went to a party and didn’t text back for a while, she would bombard him with messages. She’d get huffy, demanding he keep his distance from other women, warning him that she would be checking his chat logs. And when they fought, when he tried to break up with her, the same woman who was always so composed with me would pin him to the sofa and kiss him with a fierce, desperate passion. It hit me then. She wasn’t cold. She wasn’t above jealousy. Her fire, her possessiveness… they just weren’t for me. I let out a slow breath and took the bouquet from the young woman’s hands. Olivia’s eyes lit up instantly, a fiery hope practically spilling from them. The flowers were a stunning arrangement of deep, velvety roses. I’d looked them up once. Their meaning: You are my one and only obsession. Honestly, for a split second, I was tempted to just say yes. Ten feet away, mixed in with the crowd of onlookers, stood Kathy. Her tailored blazer and slacks were a stark contrast to the casual student attire all around her. She was holding a bouquet of her own, her serene face unreadable. She looked like a stranger who had merely paused to observe a commotion that had nothing to do with her. A silent, bitter sigh rose in my chest. I must have been losing my mind. To actually consider accepting Olivia’s confession, just to see if I could crack that perfect, icy composure of Kathy’s. The absurd thought vanished as quickly as it came. Olivia was my professor’s daughter. She had just turned eighteen. I pressed my fingers to my temples. This is a disaster, I thought. How was I ever going to explain this to her father? “Olivia, the flowers are beautiful, and I’ll keep them. But I’m sorry. I already have a girlfriend.” Olivia froze, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Since when? Why haven’t I ever seen her come to campus to find you? Leo, are you just saying that because you think I’m too young?” Her three-pronged attack left me speechless. Every word was a needle, pricking the most tender, bruised part of my heart. How could I possibly tell her that my girlfriend was standing right behind her at this very moment? It was laughable, really. Over the past year, Kathy had constantly talked about not wanting to intrude on my world, about giving me space. Today was the first time she had ever come to the university to see me, and only after I had pleaded with her for weeks. Kathy had clearly heard Olivia’s questions, but she didn’t move an inch. Defeated, I forced a stern expression, adopting the tone of an older brother scolding his kid sister. “Hey, watch your tone. Show some respect.” “You’re barely older than my shoe size. What are you doing thinking about romance? Go back to your books.” 2 The crowd dispersed like a receding tide, leaving only Kathy behind, an unmovable rock on the sand. She was holding a cake box in one hand and that other bouquet in her right. It was a painfully generic arrangement of red roses and baby’s breath, the kind of thing you’d grab from a roadside stand with zero thought. Her gaze fell on the dark roses in my arms before she spoke. “Those are beautiful. You can tell she put a lot of thought into them.” She offered the cake to me. I deliberately didn’t take it, hugging the roses tighter. “My hands are full.” “Should I hold those for you?” she asked. Her tone was gentle, considerate even. I stared into her eyes, searching their deep, placid pools for any sign of annoyance, any flicker of the emotion a girlfriend was supposed to feel in a moment like this. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. I decided to be direct. “Kathy, weren’t you afraid I might have said yes to her?” A small smile touched her lips. She answered with that same infuriating calm. “That would just mean she’s more deserving than I am. I would understand.” The thread of my composure finally snapped. “Good point,” I said, my voice strained. “So, why don’t we just break up?” The words hung in the air, tasting like ash in my mouth. Kathy was silent for a beat. “I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll step in sooner.” It was another one of her well-rehearsed apologies. Just like every other time, she’d quickly admit fault, shutting down the conversation and sealing off any possibility of real communication. Last month, I had deliberately complimented a classmate in front of her, remarking on how charming she was. Kathy hadn’t shown the slightest bit of displeasure. I joked, “Aren’t you worried I’ll fall for someone else?” She had simply replied, “Don’t overthink it. I trust you.” After being met with that same wall of indifference time and time again, I could no longer lie to myself. Kathy didn’t care about me. It was as simple, and as brutal, as that. 3 We parted on bad terms. Or rather, I was in a bad mood. She seemed fine. As a final act of defiance on what was supposed to be our first anniversary, I told her I was going to a bar tonight. I was sure she’d understand what I was really saying. But all she said was, “Be safe,” before turning and walking away. When my friend Mark picked me up, he was in the middle of a heated argument with his wife over the car’s Bluetooth. He hung up and irritably sent her his location. “God, she’s worse than my own mother! I can’t even go out for a drink with you without getting an interrogation.” He shot me a look of pure envy. “You’re so lucky, man. Your girl Kathy is the best. Never interferes, never gets mad. She’s completely devoted to you.” I didn’t answer, just rolled down the window and let the cool night air wash over my face. A bitter pang of jealousy hit me. I envied Mark’s life, the constant bickering and making up he had with his wife. Their relationship felt alive, dynamic, a flowing river where the push and pull only brought them closer. It was the feeling of being needed, of being important to someone. What Kathy and I had… it was like a stagnant pond. Even an argument felt like a luxury we couldn’t afford. That so-called devotion was just her habit of conceding before a disagreement could even begin. She’d cut me off with an “I’m sorry” before I even had a chance to get angry. A soft female voice drifted from the car radio, layered over a gentle melody. “If someone is always perfectly rational and restrained with you, that isn’t love. Love is irrational. It’s losing control. It’s overthinking, it’s being lost in a daze. It’s possessiveness, it’s a desperate need to see them…” Mark wasn’t listening, still grumbling about his wife. “We can argue about anything! Last night we were trying to figure out where to go for vacation, and it turns out we both secretly planned a surprise trip for the other. We were both so excited, talking over each other, trying to get the other to listen to our plan, and it turned into a huge fight. Can you believe that? How ridiculous is that?” I managed a weak jab. “No wonder you’re so good at arguing. You’ve been getting extra practice behind my back.” Mark laughed. “Yeah, well, those arguments usually end up in the bedroom. Good for the stamina, you know?” Not long ago, I had excitedly presented Kathy with my own meticulously planned vacation itinerary. I had barely gotten a sentence out before she cut me off. “If you like it, that’s fine.” My excitement deflated like a pricked balloon. My enthusiasm vanished, and the plans were forgotten. The night deepened, and the car pulled up in front of a bar. Before Mark could even kill the engine, I pushed him back into the driver’s seat. “Alright, you married man with a curfew, don’t you dare come inside. Go home before your wife puts a hit out on me.” Mark glanced at his vibrating phone and sighed. “You’re probably right. She gets lonely by herself. Fine, fine, I’ll go home and continue the fight.” I smiled as I watched his car merge back into traffic. The bar was busy but not rowdy. A singer on stage was gently strumming a guitar, his voice a husky, melancholic whisper as he sang a love song with lyrics I couldn’t quite make out. I found a secluded booth in the corner and let the alcohol numb the ache in my chest. My phone lit up. A message from Kathy. What time are you coming home? It felt like a routine check-in, a task to be completed. I stared at the words for a few seconds, my thumb hovering over the screen, but I didn’t reply. Instead, I opened the social media app that had been the source of my sleepless night. I had come across the account last week. A post about a relationship had popped up in my feed, a stark anomaly among the usual academic and research articles. Normally, I would have scrolled right past it. But a powerful, unexplainable intuition made me click. The blogger detailed, with loving exasperation, just how clingy his girlfriend was. I clicked on his profile and saw that he had stopped posting about a year and a half ago. In the comments of his last post, someone asked what had happened. He replied: We broke up. The replies were filled with sympathy and regret. I felt a pang of sadness for him, too. Until I saw a blurry photo of a woman in profile. I recognized her instantly. It was Kathy. My mind immediately rejected the idea. It was absurd. This couldn’t be Kathy. The Kathy I knew was cool, rational, as emotionally steady as a finely tuned instrument. She didn’t get excited about promotions, and she could calmly disarm a knife-wielding patient in the ER without batting an eye. She never crossed boundaries, never lost control. But the Kathy in these posts? She was the girl who would travel sixty miles across the city every day just to have dinner with him. She was the girl who, if he was slow to reply to a text, would send a hundred more, demanding he cut off all contact with other women and submit his phone for inspection. Even when they were breaking up, he had written a post so long it was practically a novella. Her last message to him read: “Please don’t say we’re breaking up, I can’t take it. Don’t move, stay home, I’m bringing you your favorite food.” She had even… gotten on her knees, with tears in her eyes, and begged him not to leave. That kind of desperate pleading, that burning, all-consuming possessiveness… I had never seen that side of her. By the time the sun began to rise, I had read every single post. My phone screen timed out, reflecting my own tear-streaked face. Their love had been a raging inferno, so bright and hot it was painful to look at. And in that moment, I finally understood. I had thought Kathy was giving me space and respect. The truth was, she just didn’t care enough to do otherwise. 4 Yesterday, the blogger had posted an update. He said he was meeting his ex-girlfriend. I waited quietly. I decided to give her one last chance. If she told me the truth about her past, or if she kept it from me but didn’t go to meet him, then I would sit her down and have an honest conversation. I wouldn’t let our relationship end with unspoken regrets. Because I really did love her. Kathy was beautiful, a fantastic cook, and always pulled her weight with chores. We were both in the medical field, so we had so much in common. I knew it would be hard to find someone like her again. My eyes were glued to the entrance of the bar. With every swing of the door, my heart leaped into my throat. Plenty of people came and went, but I never saw her familiar silhouette. The knot of tension in my stomach slowly began to unwind. I even felt a small sense of relief. Maybe I was just overthinking everything. Maybe that part of her past was truly over. Perhaps she had simply burned through all her passion in that one all-consuming love affair, leaving nothing but embers for me. Love doesn’t have to be a whirlwind romance. It can be a slow, steady stream. Like my parents. When my dad was in the kitchen cooking noodles, just as he dropped them into the pot, my mom would wordlessly appear with two washed eggs. She didn’t need to ask; she just knew he always liked a soft-boiled egg with his noodles. When my mom peeled garlic, she’d instinctively drop the skins onto a paper towel my dad had laid out for her moments before. The rhythmic chop of the knife and the hum of the exhaust fan would fill the silence, a comfortable quiet that felt more intimate than any conversation. Two people, one home, a lifetime of shared meals. Maybe a life like that wouldn’t be so bad. … The clock on the wall ticked past two in the morning. The bar was about to close. Kathy’s internal clock was unshakable. She was always asleep by 11:30 PM. It seemed she had chosen to say nothing and stay home. Good. I let out a long, slow breath and picked up my phone, ready to call a ride-share and head home. Tomorrow, we would talk. Just as I stood up, my gaze drifted to a dimly lit corner near the front of the bar. I froze. The blood in my veins turned to ice. Kathy. She was sitting right there, her eyes locked on the male singer on stage. Her profile was sharp and clear in the flickering lights, yet she looked like a complete stranger. Their gazes met across the crowded room, and both of their eyes were red with unshed tears. She had been here even longer than I had. She hadn’t gone home. She hadn’t gone to sleep. The quiet, steady future I had just started to build in my mind… In that instant, it shattered into a million pieces. 5 A wave of pain washed over me, but it was quickly eclipsed by a feeling of utter absurdity. I quickly wiped the moisture from the corner of my eye. Taking a deep breath, I told myself I couldn’t run. There was no need to wait for tomorrow. We would talk right now. I walked straight toward her, planting myself directly in her line of sight and breaking their intense connection. “Kathy.” Her red-rimmed eyes still held the lingering ghost of a powerful emotion she hadn’t had time to conceal. “What are you doing here?!” Just then, a drunk woman at the next table staggered to her feet. She let out a wolf whistle at the singer on stage and hurled an empty beer bottle in his direction. Glass exploded across the stage. The singer flinched back, a shard of glass catching the hem of his pants. In a heartbeat, Kathy shoved me aside and threw herself in front of him. I stumbled, caught off balance. My elbow slammed hard against the cold edge of the bar, and a sharp, blinding pain shot up my arm. My mind flashed back to the day we first met. Kathy had shielded me just like this, without a moment’s hesitation, from a psychiatric patient with a knife. But now, the only person she wanted to protect was the man standing behind her. The drunk woman, seeing she’d caused trouble, muttered a curse and stumbled away. “Julian!” Kathy’s voice was tight with worry and fear. “I told you not to work in a place like this! What would you have done if I wasn’t here?” Julian, still shaken, finally snapped back to reality and pushed her away forcefully. “I don’t need you to look after me! Why are you so damn pathetic?” They stared each other down, a silent battle raging between them, their eyes tangled in a web of history that no one else could understand. But Kathy’s desperate longing to pull him into her arms was so palpable it was almost a physical force in the room. It was laughable. I was the one who felt like the outsider. “What is he to you?” I asked, my voice cutting through their standoff. Julian’s head snapped toward me, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. He tried to sound composed. “We’re just old friends.” Just old friends. Right. Kathy’s jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle jumped. She looked like she was choking on the words, unable to refute his definition of their relationship. Her gaze finally returned to me. “His leg is bleeding. I have to take him to the hospital.” She could spot a nearly invisible scratch on his leg in the dim, flashing lights of the bar. But she was blind to the agony twisting my face as I clutched my elbow, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. Julian turned his face away. “I’m not going! I’m not gonna die!” Kathy immediately pulled out her phone. “Then I’m calling an ambulance.” She was a doctor. She was Dr. Kathy Moran, who could face the most gruesome injuries in the emergency room without flinching, making life-or-death decisions with ice-cold precision. But right now, for him, she was a complete mess.

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1 The day I left the country, the Maybach belonging to the scion of Port Sterling’s military elite floored the accelerator, but it still wasn’t fast enough to catch my flight. He sent me a frantic barrage of messages: “Can you stop this tantrum? So what if Brielle stole a little of your life force?” “Fine, it’s all my fault, okay?” “They said you left the country. Is it true?” “I was wrong. Please don’t do this to me. Answer the phone. I’m going to lose my mind.” Listening to the utter desperation in Ashton Cole’s voice, I felt nothing but a bitter irony. I blocked his number, then swapped my SIM card for a new one. Finally, there was peace. Three years later, I returned to Port Sterling for my cousin’s wedding. At the airport, I ran into an old friend. “Nina,” she said, “it’s been three years. You can’t still be angry, can you?” “Are you back to get back together with General Cole? He never married that other woman. He’s been waiting for you all this time.” Her words barely caused a ripple in the calm waters of my heart. … My five years of marriage to Ashton Cole had been five years of inexplicable misfortune. In the fifth year, I was hit by a truck and left paralyzed from the waist down. The doctors said I would never walk again. In everyone’s eyes, I was a walking disaster, a curse. Only Ashton had stood by me, unwavering, for all those years. That was, until I heard a renowned mystic had come to the city. I rushed to see him. After studying my birth chart, his brow furrowed. “Miss Shen, your destiny is exceptionally auspicious. You should be living a life of great wealth and fortune, free of illness and disaster.” His gaze then settled on the jade bracelet on my wrist. His voice was heavy with meaning. “While jade can be nurturing, the one who gave you this harbors ill intentions. I would advise you to wear it as little as possible.” I froze. The bracelet had been a gift from Ashton’s young niece, Brielle. They weren’t blood relatives; her parents had simply done a great service for Ashton’s father, the old General. After their deaths, she had come to live in the Cole family home. A violent tremor ran through me. I desperately wheeled myself out, determined to find Ashton and demand an explanation. But as I neared his office on the base, I overheard him talking to his aide. “General, Mrs. Cole’s body can’t take much more of this. Are you sure you’re going to let Miss Brielle continue on like this?” Ashton waved a dismissive hand. “Brielle saw me wiping Nina’s face yesterday. The girl’s in a temper. Let her have her fun for a little while longer. Besides, my own life force is powerful. Nina is my wife; she’ll be fine. It’s just minor ailments, a few bumps and bruises.” The aide hesitated, but Ashton continued. “The girl’s own chart is weak. Marrying me would have balanced it, but I fell in love with Nina. It’s my fault she was so frail and sickly all those years. I owe her this. As long as Brielle is safe and happy, I’ll give her anything she wants.” Ashton’s words were like an invisible hand, squeezing the air from my lungs. I had always thought I was just cursed with bad luck, that my misfortune had dragged him and Brielle down with me. But it had all been their design. “How could you!” I burst through the door, our eyes locking as tears streamed down my face. Ashton was startled for a moment, then he bent down, his hands resting on my shoulders. “Nina, you shouldn’t eavesdrop.” His voice was gentle, but his grip was painfully tight. “None of that was real. I was just saying that to placate Brielle. You’re not superstitious too, are you?” My body trembled uncontrollably. I don’t know where the strength came from, but I began to struggle. “No… Change it back! I’m going to die, Ashton… Please. Change it back…” His expression remained placid. “Be good now. Behave.” His voice dropped. “People will think the General’s wife is a madwoman.” He stood up. “The mistress is not well. Have the medics come and give her a sedative.” I shook my head wildly, but no matter what I said, Ashton remained unmoved. The medic soon arrived with his kit. Ashton gestured to him, then leaned down, his lips close to my ear. “You’re tired, Nina. Get some rest.” A sharp sting pierced my arm. As the sedative flowed into my veins, my world faded to black. When I opened my eyes again, I was in our familiar bedroom. It was empty. I fumbled for my phone and dialed Ashton’s father. “General,” I said, my voice hoarse but eerily calm. “I’ve made my decision.” “I agree to the divorce. I will leave Port Sterling forever.” The old General’s voice was electric with excitement. “Good! Only when you’re gone will Ashton marry Brielle! This way, the Cole family line won’t end!” “I’ll have the divorce papers sent over for you to sign. We’ll arrange for you to go abroad in a month.” After hanging up, I raised my arm and smashed the jade bracelet against the bedpost. It shattered. In that instant, a wave of clarity and vigor washed over me, a feeling I hadn’t had in years. To avoid suspicion, I found a cheap imitation and put it on. Just as I finished cleaning up the fragments, Ashton came in. “Nina, I’m taking you for your physical therapy.” He was all gentle smiles, as if yesterday had never happened. Ever since the accident, he had been meticulously caring for me, personally overseeing my therapy sessions. But there had never been any improvement. Today, however, after the session, I could feel a distinct tingling in my legs. A flicker of sensation. When we were done, Ashton wheeled me into the garden to get some sun, but he was called away by a phone call. The moment he was gone, Brielle stormed in, her hand wrapped in a bandage. She glared at me, her eyes immediately fixing on my wrist. When she saw the bracelet was still there, she seemed to relax. Then, her teeth clenched. “Uncle Ashton spent so much time with you today. You must be very proud of yourself.” She pulled a thin leather whip from behind her back. “I’m not going to let you have it so easy!” The whip cracked down on me. Pain exploded through my body, and I convulsed. “Brielle, are you insane?!” I tried to wheel myself away, but she gave me no chance. Seeing me in pain only seemed to excite her more. The whip fell again and again as she showered me with curses. I don’t even know when I passed out. She only stopped when her anger was spent. When I regained consciousness, the raw, red welts covering my body made me gasp. Ashton was sitting by my bed, his eyes bloodshot, as if he hadn’t slept. He handed me a document. “Sign this. It’s a formal letter of forgiveness. If you don’t, Brielle will be disciplined.” I then learned that someone had seen Brielle whipping me and had reported her. She was currently being held in custody on the base. I laughed coldly. So that was why he hadn’t slept. I glanced at the paper. “Why should I forgive her?” Ashton’s face hardened. “The mistress is injured and cannot sign. Bring me the ink pad!” At his command, several guards stepped forward and held me down. Ashton grabbed my hand, pressed my thumb onto the ink pad, and stamped my print onto the document. As he stormed out with the letter, he shot a look at the guards. Before I could process what was happening, they were on me, holding me down and slapping my face. Hard. One hundred and eight sharp slaps. My cheeks felt like they were about to burst before they finally stopped. “The General said this is a warning,” one of them said coldly. They left me, a broken heap on the hospital bed. I was in the hospital for a week. Ashton never once came to see me, though he sent plenty of concerned texts, blaming his absence on his duties. But Brielle sent me taunting photos every single day: Ashton cooking for her, Ashton washing her feet, Ashton renting out every billboard in Port Sterling for her upcoming birthday. On the day of my discharge, another message from Brielle arrived. [Uncle Ashton is throwing me a birthday party at the main garrison hall. You’ll be there, won’t you, sister Nina?] [I even have a special surprise for you this time!] That afternoon, Ashton himself came to pick me up. In the car, he helped me change into an evening gown and even braided my hair himself. Every touch was gentle, affectionate. Any outsider would have been envious. But compared to what he did for Brielle, it was nothing. We drove straight to the party. As I was getting out of the car, the ring on my finger slipped off, clattering to the ground. The sound was like a blow to my heart. My eyes instantly filled with tears. The next second, Ashton’s military boot crushed it under his heel. “Stop dawdling,” he said impatiently. “Brielle will be getting anxious.” Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. He saw them and a flash of annoyance crossed his face. He let go of me, handing me off to the driver. “Get the mistress inside. I’m going to check on Brielle.” Even though I had no expectations left, my heart still ached with an unbearable pain. As the driver wheeled me into the banquet hall, I saw Ashton and Brielle standing on the stage. Brielle spotted me immediately. “It’s my birthday,” her cold voice rang out. “Why are you late, sister Nina? I think you should be punished. Come and pour me a glass of wine.” Every eye in the room turned to me. Paired with the rumors of my being a curse, their gazes were filled with scorn and contempt. I looked to Ashton for help, but he just gave the driver a subtle nod. The driver let go of the wheelchair. With no support, I pitched forward and fell to the floor in a heap. Utterly humiliated. Brielle’s silvery laugh echoed through the hall. “Oh, sister Nina, what are you doing? There’s no need to bow so deeply.” The room filled with laughter. I struggled to push myself up, my eyes instinctively searching for Ashton. “My wheelchair… help me…” But he was already gone, pulled away by Brielle to open her presents. My strength gave out, and I collapsed again. The man who had saved me countless times had finally abandoned me. The party was a lavish, grand affair. It felt less like a birthday and more like an engagement party. A bitter smile touched my lips, which seemed to enrage Brielle. I had just managed to drag myself to the powder room when she followed me in. A sharp slap landed on my cheek. “What do you have to be so smug about?” she sneered. “I’m telling you, Uncle Ashton will divorce you and marry me sooner or later!” I wiped the blood from my lip, my expression calm. “Then by all means, go and tell him that.” She was speechless for a moment, her face flushing with rage. She grabbed a table lamp and raised it to strike me. But before it could fall, Ashton appeared in the doorway. Brielle’s eyes instantly filled with tears. She dropped the lamp and collapsed to the floor. “Sister Nina, I’m sorry! Please don’t hit me!” she screamed. Then, she threw herself against the corner of a nearby table. “Brielle!” Ashton, as if he were blind, shoved me aside and rushed to her. The force of the push sent me crashing into a glass partition. It shattered, showering me with shards. Blood bloomed all over my body. “Ashton…” My voice echoed in the ruined room, but no one answered. In the end, I crawled to the hospital myself. The nurses at the entrance screamed when they saw me. Ashton didn’t come until the next day. The first words out of his mouth were an accusation. “Did you have to cause a scene at Brielle’s birthday? When are you going to learn to be sensible?” He was right. I wasn’t sensible. Otherwise, I never would have married him. I turned my head away, unwilling to speak to him. Perhaps the sight of me covered in bandages moved him. He sighed and sat beside me. “I was a bit hasty the other day. But you can’t blame Brielle. Don’t take your anger out on her, okay? When you’re discharged, I’ll make it up to you. Just let this go.” “Do I have a choice?” He fell silent, his expression complicated. Finally, I broke the silence. “Just go. I want to rest.” But this time, he didn’t leave. After a long moment, he took my hand. “Nina, there’s something I need to discuss with you…” “Father has always hoped that Brielle and I could have a child…” I was stunned. “You don’t need my permission for that.” As if my refusal would stop him. He misunderstood. “Don’t worry, I won’t touch her. The technology is very advanced now. I want her to carry our child…” The realization hit me. I stared at the stranger in front of me and finally broke. “Never!” I screamed. “I will not have my child grow in another woman’s womb!” Seeing my breakdown, he pulled me into a gentle embrace. “Shh, it’s okay…” As he whispered comforting words, he injected a syringe into my IV line. “It’ll be over soon. It won’t hurt.” But as the drug entered my system, my consciousness didn’t fade. Instead, every nerve in my body lit up, hypersensitive. Every sensation was amplified. The pain on the operating table was excruciating, tearing me apart. Every time I fainted, a nurse would splash a basin of cold water on my face to wake me. “Miss Brielle’s orders,” she said coldly. “You must be awake to feel everything.” Just then, Ashton pushed the door open. “What’s going on?” He checked the IV bag and sighed. “Brielle can be so mischievous, swapping the anesthetic for a drug that amplifies pain.” But he didn’t change it. He just stroked my hair. “Be good. Just endure it a little longer.” The torture lasted for a full hour. By the end, my lips were bitten to shreds, and my eyes were bloodshot, fixed on him with pure hatred. Just then, a nurse came in. “General, Miss Brielle is awake. She’s asking for you.” “Alright, I’m coming.” He didn’t even look at me as he left. In the days that followed, he was always by Brielle’s side. On the first day, as Brielle prepared for the implantation procedure, she was too nervous to sleep. Ashton held her all night. Meanwhile, I packed up every gift he had ever given me over the past four years and donated them all. On the third day, after Brielle’s procedure, Ashton stayed by her bedside day and night. I, on the other hand, took medication to speed my healing. Without the cursed bracelet, my legs were recovering at an astonishing rate. I could already walk. On the fifth day, Brielle’s pregnancy was confirmed. Overjoyed, she posted the test results online. Ashton liked the post. I blocked him, deleted all my social media accounts, and erased every trace of myself from the internet. For the next few days, Ashton remained with Brielle. I checked myself out of the hospital, returned to our villa in the officer’s quarters, and packed my things. He never noticed. On the final day, my divorce certificate arrived. The date on it, I noted with a cold laugh, was our anniversary. How ironic. I placed his copy of the certificate in an envelope on his bedside table. As I was leaving, I ran into him. He looked surprised. “Nina, you’re out of the hospital? Why didn’t you tell me? Perfect timing. Brielle is being discharged too. You can take care of her.” He was carrying bags filled with baby supplies, a joyful, irrepressible smile on his face. He didn’t even notice that I was walking. “Fine,” I said casually. “Go on ahead and get a few more things from the store.” Before he could react, I was in the car I had arranged, and we were gone. Two hours later, I boarded my flight. Just before takeoff, I took the audio recordings, the documents, the photos, and the paternity test, and I posted them all to the military’s internal forum. The suffering I endured, Ashton and Brielle would now experience for themselves. Tenfold, a hundredfold.

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I had the perfect mother. Not that she was perfect, but she demanded perfection from me. When I ranked third in my entire grade, she laughed coldly: “Only third? What is there to be proud of? No dinner for three days. You don’t deserve to eat.” When I scored a 148 out of 150 on my math final, she screamed: “Is your brain filled with trash? How could you lose those two points? Go kneel outside in the snow. Don’t get up until I say so!” That time, I knelt for three hours. I had to crawl back to my room. Finally, because I cut my finger practicing the violin and fumbled during a competition, missing first place… In the dead of winter, she stripped me down and threw me into the freezing basement. I died there, cold and alone. When I opened my eyes again, I wasn’t myself. I was my grandmother. Mom, this time, I’m going to treat you exactly the way you treated me. 1 When I woke up and saw the youthful face of my grandmother in the mirror, I realized I had traveled back in time. The room had a distinctly 90s layout. And there she was—my mother, Rachel—still a high school student. In that instant, all the grief and anger in my heart erupted. The tables have turned. Let’s see if you can handle your own medicine, Mom. It was the dead of winter. At 5:00 AM sharp, I barged into her room. “Rachel! Get up! Time for morning recitations!” I called three times. She lay there like a log, snoring away. Furious, I threw the window wide open. The freezing wind blasted into the room. This was exactly how she used to wake me up when I was a child, regardless of whether I was sick or well. The biting cold instantly brought back memories of her control. But now, I was her mother. “Rachel, get up right now! You have three minutes, or no breakfast!” Finally realizing I wasn’t joking, she sat up, eyes bleary with sleep, and started whining. “Mom, it’s 5 AM…” Before she could finish, I stood by the bed and sneered. “Time’s up. No breakfast. Start reciting your history textbook.” Rachel was furious. “Mom, are you crazy? Who gets up at 5 AM to study?” My face was ice cold as I gritted my teeth. “Rachel, getting into an Ivy League school is war. If you slack off for even a second, you’re finished.” “From today on, I am implementing a high-intensity management plan for your life.” She resisted in every way possible, but her resistance was futile. After all, I’m her mother. And as she used to say, “It’s all for your own good.” Sending her to school on an empty stomach was just a small lesson. It wasn’t nearly enough. The real fun was just beginning. 2 Midterms arrived quickly. That morning, I gave her a cold instruction: “Today is your midterm. No water. No bathroom breaks. Use your recess time to review your notes.” She looked at me in shock and disbelief. “Mom, it’s just a midterm! No water? No bathroom? Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?” I crossed my arms and sneered. “If you think this is excessive, Rachel, then you haven’t seen anything yet.” “Since you dare to question me, you can skip dinner too. Missing a meal won’t kill you.” She snapped. She exploded. She grabbed her chopsticks to eat and downed the glass of water on the table in one go. I slapped her across the face in a fit of rage and flipped the table over. Pointing a shaking finger at her, I roared, “Rachel! I am your mother! How dare you disobey me? Are you trying to rebel?!” “Look at your last monthly exam scores! I was ashamed to even look at them!” “When my friends ask about your grades, I feel my face burning with embarrassment!” These were the exact words and actions she used on me. Finally, I had the chance to return them. Seeing that exam time was approaching, I threw her backpack at her and kicked her out the door. My parting words were full of malice: “Let me tell you, Rachel, if you don’t listen to me, you can go die on the streets!” “And you better get first place this time, or you’ll pay for it.” Rachel clutched her face, tears welling in her eyes as she cried out. “Mom, it’s just a test! Do you have to treat me like this? Is a grade more important to you than I am?” I answered without a moment’s hesitation. “Of course. Can studying kill you? No.” “Since it won’t kill you, you study until you drop. You take those tests like your life depends on it. Otherwise, get out of my house!” Rachel ran off crying. The moment the door clicked shut, I felt an incredible sense of relief. Mom, now you know. Compared to what you did to me, this is just a scratch. 3 That afternoon, I received a call from her homeroom teacher. Rachel had fainted during the exam. I paused for a second. I should have felt vindicated. But for some reason, my heart felt like it was being squeezed. It was raining outside. I ignored everything and ran to the school nurse’s office. Looking at Rachel’s pale face on the cot, my resolve wavered. Should I stop? After all, Mom is just a high schooler right now. But then I remembered how I developed severe depression under the high-pressure environment she created for me. She didn’t care. She thought I was being dramatic. I remember her words clearly: “Depression? That’s a rich person’s disease. You’re just full of excuses because you have it too easy.” “I’m telling you, don’t you dare fake being sick.” Real or fake, she didn’t care. She only cared about the score. I asked the nurse what happened. It was just low blood sugar from skipping breakfast. Nothing serious. I immediately turned and dragged Rachel off the bed. “The nurse said you’re fine. Go back to class and study.” “You fainted just because you skipped one meal? Your physical constitution is pathetic.” Rachel refused to move, clinging to the bed. “Mom, I passed out!” “I just woke up and you want me to study? Am I even your biological daughter?” Seeing her resist, I slapped her again. The nurse’s office went dead silent. “Do you know how precious time is before college applications?” I unleashed a barrage of verbal abuse. “Rachel, you’re pulling this stunt just to avoid studying.” I grabbed her arm and tried to drag her back to the classroom. Rachel struggled, crying and screaming for me to let go. I didn’t care about the embarrassment. I was the mother. She was the one being humiliated at school, just like I was back then. “Get up! Get up and finish that exam!” “Stop faking it! You fainted, you didn’t die! Stop being so fragile!” The students around us gasped. “Rachel’s mom is a monster…” Rachel became the center of attention. I saw her ears turn red, her face flushing with shame. Just like me, she was an introvert who panicked in crowds. But the current me didn’t care. Rachel couldn’t handle the humiliation. She ripped the IV needle out of her arm herself. The nurse gasped, “What are you doing? You can’t just rip that out!” I watched the beads of blood drip onto the white sheets. She glared at me with bloodshot eyes, expecting some pity. I sneered at the nurse. “She ripped it out? Good. That means she can go back to class. Don’t waste another second.” In the end, she went back to the classroom crying. I went to the teacher’s office and told them to watch her closely. If she slacked off, they were to call me immediately. 4 When I got home, I started cooking. This was another thing my mother had forced me to do. “You don’t have to do it for us, but you must learn how,” she used to say. I guess I have to thank her now. I made Braised Fish. It was Rachel’s most hated dish. But it was my favorite. Two days later, Rachel came home with her report card. She didn’t say a word. I demanded the report card and sat on the sofa to review it. I deliberately made her stand there and wait. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her getting more and more nervous, her hands gripping her backpack strap tightly. Sweat beaded on her forehead. I let five full minutes of silence pass before I spoke. “The grades are acceptable.” I heard her let out a breath of relief. Immediately, I snapped, “But why only a 93 in Math?” She tried to defend herself. “Mom, 93 was the highest in the class! I’m ranked fifth in the whole grade…” “Fifth? You didn’t even make the top three, and you’re proud? Rachel!” I stared at her coldly until she was shaking with fear. I showed no mercy. I slammed the report card onto the table with a loud thud. “Rachel, come here. Tell me, where did you lose those seven points?” Rachel stayed silent. I shoved her shoulder. “Speak! I’m asking you a question! Are you mute?” Rachel suddenly took a deep breath, looked up, and screamed at me with red eyes. “Mom! My total score is 30 points higher than last time! I fainted during the math exam and didn’t finish the last big question! I did good enough!” “Good enough?” I pulled out the bamboo ruler I had prepared. “Why didn’t you finish it before you fainted? Huh?!” “Put out your hand. I need to teach you a lesson you’ll remember.” This is exactly how my mom treated me. It didn’t matter if people were watching. It didn’t matter where we were. If she thought I did wrong, she hit my hands. Once, when results came out publicly and I got an 88 in English, she humiliated me in front of everyone. I begged her to wait until we got home. She scolded me instead. “You weren’t ashamed to get that score, but you’re ashamed that I’m hitting you?” She hit my palm 20 times in front of a crowd. My hand was so swollen I lost feeling in it. She insisted, “This is the only way you’ll remember to do better next time.” Now, I was going to make her remember. I raised the ruler. Whack. I brought it down on her palm. “A 93? Reflect on where you lost those points! Should you have lost them?!” I watched Rachel shrink back in terror, trembling as she stammered, “I’m in high school… I have dignity too…” I retorted without thinking, “I don’t care if you’re in college! You are my daughter! I’ll hit you if I want!” “If you did it right, would I have to scold you?” “If I don’t hit you, you’ll never learn.” In the end, I couldn’t be as cruel as she was. I only hit her five times. But Rachel’s hand was swollen. She cried and screamed that I was an evil stepmother. “A biological mother wouldn’t abuse her own child like this!” Looking at her, I smiled nonchalantly. “Yeah. How could a biological mother do this?” My heart felt like it was being sliced with a knife. After all, you hit me 20 times. My hand was so swollen I couldn’t hold a pen. Back then, I also wondered if I was your biological daughter.

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Julian Thorne noticed I hadn’t submitted an expense request in three days. Assuming I had finally learned how to be a proper trophy wife, he sent me a text like he was bestowing a favor: “I’ve reinstated your foster mother’s treatment. Behave yourself from now on, and stop lying just to get more money.” “I know it’s hard for people from your background, but my money isn’t that easy to swindle.” Little did he know, when I received that text, I had already finished drafting the divorce papers. The only thing I was taking with me was the white T-shirt and jeans I wore when I first walked into this life. No one would believe that Mrs. Thorne, always so glamorous in public, couldn’t scrape together four decent outfits from her own closet after three years of marriage. Every penny I spent privately had to be approved through the company’s OA system. All the clothes and jewelry were locked in a safe. If I needed anything, I had to apply to Julian’s secretary, Sarah Xu. Just because he looked down on my background, convinced that a sudden rise from poverty would lead to bad spending habits. But three days ago, my foster mother was critically ill. I applied for $30,000 for her surgery. Sarah Xu deliberately delayed the approval process, and my foster mother died in her hospital bed. Julian didn’t know that the only reason I tolerated him for so many years was for the medical resources he controlled, the only thing that could save her. Now that she’s gone, there’s no reason for me to stay. 1 I asked Julian for a divorce. He refused. He replied with two cold words: “Stop acting.” When talking to me, Julian’s eyes never left his laptop screen. As if those dry electronic figures were more interesting than a conversation with his wife. I lowered my eyes, my tone firm: “I am talking to you seriously. I want a divorce.” Julian took a deep breath and stood up, his expression cold: “Regarding your foster mother, I agreed to pause the treatment. It had nothing to do with Sarah; she was just following orders.” “If you hadn’t come to the office making a scene, I wouldn’t have taught you a lesson.” “I already had someone reinstate the treatment yesterday. My time is precious; I don’t have time to watch you throw a tantrum.” Without waiting for my answer, he turned and left. Confident that it wouldn’t be long before I came crawling back. Continuing to fawn over him shamelessly like before. Even if he told me to my face, “Don’t be so servile, it’s disgusting.” I would just smile silently and continue being his hardworking nanny. But now, whether the treatment is reinstated or not doesn’t matter. If three days ago, Julian had answered my call, maybe I would still be bowing and scraping, doing everything to please him. But he never had the patience to answer my calls. Back then, I begged him not to hang up, to listen to me. But it was no match for Sarah’s single sentence: “Is Mrs. Thorne unhappy because I reminded her that things need to follow procedure?” She acted aggrieved: “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just don’t want her to carry over those bad habits from her lower-class past, doing things without any plan.” “That’s why I was stricter with the process, so she can learn a lesson and develop good habits.” Hearing this, Julian became even more impatient with me. Ignoring my pleas, he coldly ordered: “Do as Sarah says.” Whenever I had anything to discuss with him in the past, it was the same. “I’m busy. If you need something, find Secretary Xu.” “Listen to Secretary Xu.” “Do whatever Secretary Xu tells you.” I was his wife, but I had no dignity. Forget about normal outings; even for the social engagements required of Mrs. Thorne, events I had to attend with him, I had to submit an application to his secretary. Every time, Sarah would reject these ridiculous approvals with a smile on her face. “Mrs. Thorne, the description is not detailed enough. Please rewrite it.” “The banquet only lasts until 10 PM. Why did you write 12 AM?” “Mrs. Thorne, why are you always like this? Look at your application yourself. Didn’t I say submit it only when there are no issues?” She always waited until the very last minute to approve, then watched with a smile as I rushed frantically to the venue for a piece of jewelry or a dress. Sometimes I would be late because of this. Julian would look at me with displeasure: “Lynn, do you have no concept of time?” “You can’t even handle such a small thing. Look at yourself, in what way can you compare to Sarah?” But I couldn’t handle such small things. I could never arrive on time. All because of the good secretary, the capable assistant by Julian’s side. But he couldn’t see it, and he didn’t care. Just like how he knew my foster mother’s illness couldn’t wait, couldn’t stop medication. Yet he still impatiently accused me over the phone as a matter of course: “Didn’t I tell you many times? If you need money urgently, find Sarah. Would she deny you?” Getting money from Sarah was as difficult as ever. “What kind of emergency requires $30,000 all at once? Mrs. Thorne, you aren’t making up excuses to ask for money, are you?” “$30,000 isn’t a small amount. Please attach a detailed list before I approve it. I’m rejecting it for now.” I explained to her that this was a prepayment, and the detailed list would only be available upon discharge. Sarah smiled, the corners of her mouth curling up. Feigning realization: “Oh, so that’s how it is. My family is very healthy, so I know nothing about this.” “But expense applications are very strict. Breaking the rules like this won’t do. How about you get a formal regulation from the hospital and attach it, then I’ll approve it? I’ll reject this one first.” Later she said: “Hospitals seem capable of forging contacts. I’m not saying you would, Mrs. Thorne, just that it’s possible.” “How about you attach the industry regulations?” Just like that, the optimal rescue time was delayed again and again by Sarah. By the time I finally got the money, even the most outstanding medical team couldn’t save her. Endless hatred and pain pierced my heart densely. Indescribable suffocation filled my chest. This marriage is a cage binding me; I must escape. After figuring out what I was going to do next, I suddenly felt light all over, as if the invisible shackles attached to me for so many years disappeared at this moment. So when I received Sarah’s provocative social media post, my heart didn’t waver. I could even calmly save a screenshot and give her a like. Whenever it involved Sarah, Julian’s messages always came quickly. “Sarah has done a good job recently. As her boss, I’m just treating her to a meal. Don’t make things up and cause misunderstandings.” I don’t know what Sarah told him again. He added as a matter of course. “You already liked it. If you unlike it now, people will misunderstand Sarah.” “Leave a comment praising Sarah’s work. Consider it encouragement from us as a couple.” I originally didn’t plan to respond. But after thinking about it, I couldn’t swallow the anger in my heart. So I complied with Julian’s request. I commented to Sarah: “Secretary Xu is conscientious and dedicated, treating the boss’s wife and employees equally, using a tiny OA system to exert full bureaucratic authority. I hope you can keep it up and commit more sins.” “Every penny you save for the group now is joint property for your future ascent to the throne. Thumbs up for you.” After replying, I tossed the phone aside. I began to pack calmly. During this time, the phone kept ringing, but I ignored it. Packing didn’t take much time. After all, every valuable item belonging to me in this house was strictly locked in the password-protected walk-in closet and the triple-security safe. For so many years, I was like a guest staying temporarily. Even my traces were just a shallow layer. Now that I’ve seen through it, I suddenly realized the truth. 2 Julian arrived home quickly. I marveled once again. Whenever it involved news about Sarah, he was always prompt, never delaying. As if he didn’t see the small suitcase at my feet, his brows were still knit with anger. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?” I was indifferent: “Heard it. Didn’t want to answer.” Julian looked at me as if he had heard an incredibly ridiculous joke, speaking as if he couldn’t comprehend. “Didn’t I tell you? Sarah has been performing well at work recently, so I treated her to dinner.” “Do you know that many people in the company already misunderstand her? After you posted that comment, how is she supposed to conduct herself in the future?” Hearing this, I couldn’t control a sneer: “Looks like not everyone is blind. So people do know what ‘good deeds’ she’s done.” Saying this, I looked at Julian: “Besides, I’m not her mother. Why should I care if her days at the company are easy or not?” In an instant, Julian’s face sank. “Lynn, when did you become such a vulgar person who believes every rumor?” “You clearly know how difficult it is for a young woman to reach a high position in the workplace. Why spread rumors and insult another excellent woman like this? If you hadn’t made a scene at the company last time, would Sarah be in this position now?” His gaze toward me was full of fatigue and accusation: “If you want to be a parasite who produces nothing, I don’t blame you. I’m willing to keep you in luxury. But not all women are as shortsighted and incompetent as you.” “If you continue to be so malicious and slanderous towards Sarah, don’t blame me for being impolite. Think about your foster mother.” I finally couldn’t help but laugh out loud. My voice filled with sadness and pain. In front of Julian, I opened the suitcase. “Luxury? Look at the ‘luxurious’ life I live in your house.” “I’m leaving, and I can’t even pack four decent outfits from the closet. Money for a haircut has to go through the OA system to be approved by your good secretary. The nanny takes home more money in a month than Mrs. Thorne!” Saying this, I forcibly dragged Julian to the walk-in closet, pointing at the password lock on the door: “Do you know how to open this lock? First enter the password, then scan the fingerprint. Even your company’s files aren’t locked this tight!” “Which ‘luxurious’ wife needs to live like me, like a mistress begging for a living under her husband’s secretary!” Julian’s face was written with incomprehension. He asked me incredulously: “Just because of this?” “So you’re jealous of Sarah and went to the company specifically to ruin her reputation?” Hearing his question, my heart sank instantly. Everything I just said was playing the lute to a cow. If Julian thought for a moment that this was wrong, it was an insult and trampling to me. Over the years, he wouldn’t have complied with Sarah’s ridiculous suggestions one after another. Putting my food, clothing, housing, and transportation all into the OA system. I half-lowered my eyes: “Forget it. Think whatever you want.” “We are getting a divorce.” Julian finally realized I wasn’t making a scene. Not only did I refuse to accept his olive branch, but I was also hell-bent on divorce. The impatience in his heart instantly turned into anger. “Lynn, don’t forget the agreement between us. If you divorce me, you won’t get a penny!” “And your family’s business, your foster mother’s illness. Do you think without me, your foster father, who has a new lover, will care about her?” Of course not. I knew very well that if that ungrateful man hadn’t ignored my foster mother, forcing me into a corner, I would never have agreed to this ridiculous arranged marriage. Julian and I were originally two parallel lines. Now it’s just letting everything return to its proper track. I zipped up the suitcase again and said coldly: “Whatever.” Julian froze, not understanding why the methods that worked every time in the past were useless now. But his dignity didn’t allow him to bow his head again. So he watched wordlessly as I walked toward the door. Until I opened the door, Julian almost couldn’t control the panic in his heart to call me back. But he remembered what Sarah had told him. “Mrs. Thorne is too bored at home and wants to make a scene like in a soap opera.” “I’ve seen plenty of these little women who are used to the good life. Ignore her, leave her out to dry, and it won’t be long before she comes running back with her tail between her legs, apologizing to you.” Julian thought, feeling a bit irritable. He reached into his pocket but only found a handmade pear drop candy. Maybe because the weather was too dry, he coughed a bit every time he smoked. So I thought of many ways to make him feel better. She wasn’t completely useless, Julian thought. When the time comes, I must make her apologize properly, sincerely repent, and never dare to threaten divorce again. He quickly convinced himself. 3 After leaving Julian, I hesitated for a long time before going to my mentor. The gray-haired woman saw me dragging my meager luggage and said nothing, just stepping aside to let me in, welcoming me into her home like every visit before. My eyes soured, and tears fell. When I gave up my studies to go back and get married, she was the one who opposed it the most fiercely. Even on my wedding day, she didn’t give up messaging me. “Lynn, difficulties are temporary. There is no hurdle in the world that cannot be crossed.” “You can find other ways to solve your problems. Don’t be confused for a moment and sacrifice your whole life.” “The life of a wealthy wife only looks glamorous. All your sacrifices are invisible. Your degree will only be a temporary halo, but fundamentally, you are still reaching out for money. As long as you reach out to others, you can only ever bow your head.” Time proved Professor Song right. At first, Julian was satisfied with my degree. Later, he had Sarah by his side. She said that before I was adopted by my foster mother, I was just a person from the bottom of society. Now, even with a degree, I couldn’t change the bad habits formed since childhood. I needed to learn the rules of their class, needed to develop good consumption habits. I was the one reaching out to Julian for money. He could decide to give it, decide not to give it, or give it in a ridiculous way. After I cried enough. Professor Song said slowly: “I hope you haven’t lost your professional knowledge.” “I have a job here that requires going into the mountains and water to collect data. Do you want to go?” I was stunned for a moment. I didn’t expect my teacher not to blame me, but instead offer me the job I needed most right now. She frowned imperceptibly: “What? Have you gotten used to the good life of a wife and can’t handle the hardship of us workers?” Tears still on my face, a sincere smile appeared. “I can handle it, Teacher. For myself, I am willing to endure any hardship.” Professor Song smiled sincerely and arranged things swiftly: “Since you agreed, contact the team quickly. Work isn’t a TV drama; there’s no time for you to mourn the spring and lament the autumn.” Under her arrangement, I soon embarked on the work journey. At first, I wasn’t used to it, but as time passed, The knowledge and operational procedures carved into my soul surfaced from my mind, and I became more and more proficient. The stern team leader gave me a thumbs up: “At first, I was worried you were too delicate. Now I see, a brilliant teacher indeed produces a brilliant student.” I smiled and said: “It’s because everyone takes care of me, otherwise I wouldn’t have adapted so quickly…” Just as everyone was talking and laughing. An untimely call sounded: “Lynn?” Turning around, it was Sarah, dressed fashionably, clutching the latest handbag. She glanced lightly at the others around me. “I wondered why you suddenly clamored for a divorce from Julian. Turns out your bad nature hasn’t changed, mixing with these lowlifes again.” As she spoke, she frowned, as if speaking to us was a favor. My face went cold. We looked somewhat disheveled measuring various data like savages, but that was no reason for her to insult us. “Sarah Xu, are you a cockroach? You’re everywhere!” Sarah’s face flushed, and behind her walked a very familiar man. 4 “What’s wrong?” Hearing his inquiry, Sarah’s eyes reddened, and she whispered aggrievedly: “Nothing, it’s just that Mrs. Thorne ran away from home recklessly for so long. Today, seeing her mixing with this motley crew and following us here, I couldn’t help but advise her…” “Who knew she would misunderstand…” Only then did Julian notice me standing opposite, frowning imperceptibly. His eyes held a look of knowing: “Lynn, are you bullying Sarah again? If you’re here to apologize to me, you must apologize to Sarah first!” I rolled my eyes at him and turned to leave with the group. The girl beside me whispered: “Lynn, who is that?” I sneered: “My blind, brainless ex-husband.” Julian’s face darkened, and he questioned: “Lynn! You followed us all the way here, how long do you plan to keep this up?” “Running away from home for so many days without a care, ignoring your foster mother completely. Where is your conscience? Are you really trying to force me to stop your foster mother’s medical expenses?” I looked at him wearily, my tone cold: “Stop them then. Aren’t you best at doing that sort of thing?” Stung by the look full of disgust and indifference, Julian couldn’t tell if he felt more anger or panic at the impending loss. He decisively took out his phone, missing the panic on Sarah’s face. “Julian, maybe don’t…” Julian pressed down Sarah’s hand on his arm and said coldly: “She must be taught a lesson, or she’ll never learn how to be Mrs. Thorne!” The assistant on the other end of the phone hesitated after receiving the order. “Mr. Thorne, Mrs. Thorne’s foster mother passed away last month. The medical expenses were stopped before she died…” Julian froze on the spot, murmuring incredulously: “How is that possible?” “Why didn’t I receive any news?” The assistant was full of difficulty, as if it was hard to speak. “I reported it to you at the time. You said…” “‘When I’m happy, don’t tell me a single thing related to that woman Lynn.’” In an instant, Julian recalled what he was doing at that time. He had arranged for 52,000 drones to perform above the TV station. Just to comfort Sarah, who was frightened by Lynn blocking her at the company and cursing her. He felt a bit dizzy and had a headache. Why did the always well-behaved Lynn suddenly make a scene at the company back then? She seemed to say that Sarah deliberately stuck the process and wouldn’t give her money… Thinking of this, Julian looked sharply at the woman beside him, whose face was full of concern. Sarah was startled and explained pitifully: “Julian, I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I just didn’t want you to feel too guilty. With so many years of medical support, you’ve done right by Mrs. Thorne…” Julian didn’t want to hear a word from her at this moment. For the first time, he spoke to her coldly: “Give me your phone. I want to see your work calendar.” Panic instantly filled Sarah’s face. She explained incoherently: “Julian, this is my privacy. Is my usual work not good enough?” Seeing this, what was there to explain? So everything I said back then was true. I wasn’t slandering Sarah, nor was I being jealous. Julian profoundly realized that my leaving the villa with nothing but the clothes on my back and demanding a divorce wasn’t a ploy to manipulate him. I genuinely wanted to divorce him. It was laughable that he always thought if he gave me the cold shoulder, I would go back and apologize to him. The one in the wrong was clearly him.

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My relatives said I’d won the second-wife lottery in New York. Joey Sterling married me in a headline wedding after his first wife left the country and his son drowned. A year later, we had a son, and life seemed blissful. Then Chloe, his ex-wife, returned—with convenient amnesia. She called during our nights, stormed our anniversary dinner, and kissed Joey in front of me. In a crowded store, she screamed that I was a homewrecker and ripped out a chunk of my hair. Joey would beg me, “Mia, she’s sick. She doesn’t mean it… Once she’s better, she’ll leave us alone.” I believed him. But on our son’s birthday, Chloe took him. After five frantic hours, I found him barely breathing in a Central Park pond. I was trembling too hard to lift him. When I turned for help, I saw Joey and Chloe standing close, foreheads touching. “My love,” he said, voice breaking, “I don’t know when you’ll remember… right here, I proposed to you ten times.” A cold calm washed over me. I took out my phone and called 911. I was done swallowing this half-baked life, this second-best marriage. … Black water was pouring from my son’s mouth and nose; he could barely choke out the word “Mama.” My heart was a frantic drum as I performed CPR, my arms aching with exhaustion. All the while, Joey was gently pulling Chloe into his arms, whispering about the romance of his long-ago proposals. It wasn’t until the piercing wail of sirens sliced through the air that Joey seemed to wake from his trance, his gaze finally shifting to his wife and dying son. “Mia.” I looked up, my eyes burning. For a fleeting moment, I thought he was finally going to show some concern for our son, whose little face was already stiff with cold. But reality hit me like a physical blow. “Why did you call the police! Don’t you know Chloe’s condition can’t handle any stress?” My head buzzed. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that excuse. Because Chloe couldn’t be “stressed,” I had spent the last six months living like a mistress in my own home. My son was forced to pretend he was his dead half-brother, thrown into a freezing river in the middle of winter for “swimming lessons,” and ended up with pneumonia. If my son and I didn’t play along, we were the unkind ones. But I had had enough. I pushed myself up from the frozen ground and started walking toward the police officers. I didn’t get two steps before Chloe shoved me hard from behind. “I’ll teach you to call the police!” After six hours of adrenaline and physical exertion, my world went black. I crumpled to my knees. The last thing I heard was Joey’s voice, distant but firm, determined to protect Chloe. “It was a misunderstanding with our nanny. The boy’s mother was just out playing with our son.” “Yes, I’m his legal guardian. I’m not pressing charges…” When I opened my eyes again, I shot up in bed. “Where’s my son?” Joey calmly placed a warm towel on my forehead, a hint of amusement in his voice. “What’s the rush? Noah just went for a little swim. He went home with the housekeeper hours ago.” He sighed. “And you, calling the police over such a small thing. You made Chloe sit through a thirty-minute questioning…” His every word was an accusation, painting me as the one who had overreacted. Our son nearly drowned, and that was a “small thing”? I slapped his hand away, my voice hard for the first time in our marriage. “Let’s get a divorce.” A dead silence fell over the room. As Joey stared at me in stunned disbelief, Chloe pushed the door open. A flicker of triumph flashed in her eyes before her expression crumbled into anguish. “Mia, please, don’t do this! I remember everything now, my son… my Ethan is dead,” she sobbed. “I just want to treat Noah like my own son, to love him. Isn’t it better for him to have one more person who loves him?” In the past, words like these would have sent me into a blind rage. This time, I just smiled. “Why raise another woman’s child? Here, I’ll make room for you. You and Joey can have another one of your own.” Surprise flickered across Chloe’s face, quickly replaced by a look of profound humiliation as her eyes welled up. “I’m not trying to break up this family! How could you say that to me? It’s just… compared to my Ethan, Noah is so weak! I was just trying to help you toughen him up, and you turn on me like this!” Tears streamed down her face, her body trembling as if she were about to collapse. Joey, completely flustered, shoved me aside and rushed to her. The force sent me stumbling backward, and my head slammed against the sharp corner of the bedframe. Blood streamed down my face. But Joey didn’t even look back. His voice was filled with reproach. “Mia, Chloe is a patient! Do you have to provoke her, force her to remember how Ethan drowned? Is that what makes you happy? How did you become so cruel?” The accusation was laughable. Chloe was the one who had brought up Ethan. But Joey was just getting started, turning his anger on our son. “The boy is spoiled because of you! A little swim sends him into a panic. A soft mother makes for a weak son! And now you want a divorce? Just stop it! There is no way I’m letting you raise him!” A groan of pain escaped my lips. As Joey instinctively turned his head, Chloe suddenly clutched hers, crying out in pain. Without a second of hesitation, Joey swept her up into his arms and bolted from the room. As he carried her out, Chloe looked over his shoulder and shot me a smirk of pure mockery. I watched them go, my expression blank. Joey was certain that with our son as my weakness, I would always give in. But he didn’t know. He didn’t know that when he was drowning in depression after his wife and son were gone, it was his own mother who had begged me to marry him. And the document I signed wasn’t just a marriage certificate; it was also a pre-nuptial agreement with a clause stating that in the event of a divorce, Joey Sterling waived all rights to custody. I could walk away whenever I wanted. Joey didn’t come home. It seemed he had forgotten it was our son’s birthday. But I hadn’t. When I opened the door to Noah’s room, I found his small figure staring blankly at his birthday cake. His eyes lit up when he saw me, like a little bird waiting to be fed. He instinctively glanced behind me. Seeing no one, he stretched his lips into an even bigger smile. My heart ached. At five years old, my son was already an expert at hiding his disappointment. But it was Noah who burst into tears first. “Mommy, what happened to your head? Is it because I’m not as good a swimmer as my brother? Did Daddy get mad at you again? It’s all my fault…” A five-year-old should be showered with praise on his birthday, told how wonderful and amazing he is. He shouldn’t be anxiously wondering what he did wrong this time. But for as long as he could remember, he had been compared to a half-brother he had never met. On his fourth birthday, Noah won second place in a competition. “Well,” Joey had sighed, “he still doesn’t have Ethan’s natural talent.” That one sigh extinguished all the boy’s joy. The mood that evening was heavy, the adults murmuring about “if only Ethan were here…” The celebration fizzled out. Joey left early, shutting himself in Ethan’s old room, staring at a wall covered in trophies until the middle of the night. I hugged my son tightly, my voice choked but firm. “No, sweetie, it’s not your fault. You are perfect. It’s Daddy who’s wrong. Mommy is going to take you away from here, and you’ll never have to be compared to anyone ever again.” “What nonsense are you spouting!” A low, furious growl came from the doorway. Joey stood there, his face a thundercloud, and strode towards us. His eyes fell on the gauze on my forehead, his brows knitting together. “When did you hit your head? Did you damage your brain? Is that why you’re filling our son’s head with this poison?” He reached out to check my wound. Seeing this, a flash of jealousy crossed Chloe’s face, and she immediately adopted her fragile persona. “Mia, how can you teach a child that? To run away from the slightest difficulty? That’s not love, you’re harming him! No wonder he…” As she spoke, she casually rolled up her sleeve, revealing a red mark on her arm. She glanced at Noah, her sentence trailing off meaningfully. Joey’s eyes narrowed. He whipped around to face our son. Noah, clearly baffled, just shook his head helplessly. “Daddy, I didn’t…” “And now you’re learning to lie!” The frustrations of the entire evening erupted. Joey grabbed Noah and shoved him in front of Chloe. “Apologize to Aunt Chloe!” The rough grip hurt Noah, and tears welled in his eyes. “It wasn’t me! It really wasn’t! Daddy, don’t you remember my birthday wish?” But Chloe grabbed Noah’s hand, pressed it against her supposed injury, and cried out. “Ow! That hurts! Noah, stop it…” CRACK! Joey backhanded our son, sending him stumbling to the floor. Noah sat there, clutching his face, looking up at his father in stunned silence. The tears stopped. My own eyes filled. I knew what that meant. My son had finally lost all hope in his father. But Joey was oblivious, his voice a harsh command. “Charles! Take Noah to his room and lock the door! Let him think about what he’s done!” Seeing my son’s trembling body, my heart felt like it was being shredded. I lunged forward to get him back. Joey seized my wrist, his voice filled with resentment. “Mia, what is wrong with you? Haven’t you caused enough trouble?” “That’s right, Mia,” Chloe chimed in, pointing at the cake, now a trampled mess on the floor. “Joey came here to celebrate Noah’s birthday, and you’ve ruined everything. I’m sure Noah will resent you for this.” They had ruined everything! Rage exploded in my chest. Without thinking, I slapped Joey across the face. “Divorce! We’re doing it now! And don’t you worry about our son! Whether he turns out good or bad, he is my responsibility from now on!” I had hit him with all my strength. His head snapped to the side. When he turned back, his eyes were red with disbelief. “Haven’t I been good to you? How can you say such a thing?” Perhaps he had. There were gifts on holidays, yearly vacations, small surprises after work. But when Chloe had once looked at a wall of those gifts with a knowing, dismissive smirk, I realized he was just repeating the same routines he’d had with her. And when I was being publicly assaulted, when my son was being ostracized by his classmates, Joey’s silence had been louder and more painful than any slap. “You forgot Ethan—saying these things in front of the child! Do you have any idea how much psychological damage that will do to him!” I didn’t care about my son? I laughed, my body shaking. “Yesterday, at the pond, do you know our son almost drowned? If I had been one minute later, he would be gone!” “He was thrown into a freezing river at four years old to ‘practice,’ and he never once cried, even when the cold made his muscles cramp! But the night I was attacked and called a homewrecker, do you know our son cried himself to sleep under his blankets?” I pointed at Chloe, who was hiding behind Joey, trying to smother a smile. Tears mixed with my screams. “Joey, tell me! Did you marry me because you loved me, or because you just wanted to replace Ethan? But Ethan is dead! My son doesn’t have to be him, and he never will be!” As the words left my mouth, the wound on my forehead split open again, and warm blood trickled down my face. A dazed look crossed Joey’s face, and a bitter regret slowly filled his eyes. “Mia, I didn’t know. I really didn’t know.” He took a step forward, reaching out to pull me into his arms. But at that moment, a shriek came from behind him. “How could my Ethan be gone! You must have killed him!” Chloe had “lost her memory” again, lunging at me like a madwoman. I didn’t back down. I raised my hand and slapped her twice, hard. “Chloe, did Ethan really kill himself because his parents got divorced?” She, who was so used to having the upper hand, was incensed. Her eyes darted around, and she snatched a pair of scissors, aiming them at her own body. “I’d rather die than be bullied by a homewrecker like you!” “Chloe!” Joey’s face went white. He lunged, wrestled the scissors from her grasp, and yelled for the staff. “Get the car! We’re going to the hospital!” Before leaving, he rushed back to me, his hands gripping mine, his tone almost pleading. “Thank god, thank god she didn’t hurt you. Please, let the doctor re-bandage your head, okay? I promise… this is the last time.” My head was splitting. I wanted to speak, but no words would come out. The story was that Chloe had run off to another country with Ethan’s swim coach, taking a large sum of money with her. Shortly after, the devastating news came: Ethan, missing his father, had drowned himself in a lake. Joey had been on the verge of a complete breakdown, and Chloe was unreachable. It was only when the money ran out that she had crawled back. The first time she broke into our home, she tore our wedding photos to shreds. But she claimed amnesia, and Joey forgave everything. Then she threw boiling water at me, cut my hair, slipped sleeping pills into my son’s food… Every time, it was the “last time.” A never-ending cycle. But I wasn’t willing to wait anymore. Seeing that I didn’t argue, Joey assumed I had agreed. Still, a sense of panic gripped him. He gritted his teeth and made a final vow. “If this doesn’t work, if she’s not cured this time, I’ll have her committed. I will never let her hurt you again.” He leaned down, pressed a quick kiss on my cheek, and hurried away. I leaned against the wall and slowly slid to the floor, missing the venomous glare Chloe shot me as she was led away. When I opened my eyes, the sun was bright. The housekeeper sat by my bed, her eyes red. “Ma’am, you’re finally awake! The young master has been locked in the basement all night!” I ran barefoot to the basement and scooped up my son, who was burning with fever and delirious. My phone buzzed. A message from my lawyer: The divorce has been finalized. Without hesitation, I grabbed our suitcases, picked up my son, and walked out. But just as I stepped out the front door, a slap sent me sprawling to the ground. “So it was you! How could you enable him like this? He steals something, and you help him run away!” I hit the ground hard, shielding my son, my face contorted in pain. “What are you talking about?” Joey dragged us roughly back upstairs and threw us down at Chloe’s feet. She was sobbing over an empty box. “Ethan’s gold medal is gone! Noah, I know you’re jealous of your brother, but you can’t steal his honor and make it yours!” “I tried to raise you like my own son! Please, just give me back Ethan’s things…” My son, delirious with fever, still instinctively stood up for himself. “No, I didn’t…” Joey snatched him from my arms and kicked him twice, hard. “Still lying! You worthless little thing! You were so jealous you tore all his awards off the wall!” My son’s screams broke me. I grabbed a crystal trophy and pointed it at Joey. “Give me back my son! If you touch him again, I swear I’ll kill you!” “The awards were hung high on the wall. How could a five-year-old reach them?” Joey froze. Chloe suddenly dropped to her knees, slapping herself across the face. “It’s my fault! I shouldn’t have sent Ethan abroad for his swimming career! He wouldn’t have gotten so depressed and killed himself because he missed his father! Please, take it out on me! Ethan was so young when he died, and now we can’t even protect his memory! We failed him as parents!” Her hysterical cries ignited the long-suppressed guilt in Joey. He grabbed a whip and brought it crashing down on our son.

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Right before college entrance exams, my dying grandfather showed up. He had late-stage leukemia. His offer was simple: whoever takes care of him until he dies gets his multi-million dollar inheritance. My dad spat on the ground and cursed, “You old fraud! Trying to trick me into going back to that shack in the boonies? Keep dreaming!” My mom, busy shuffling mahjong tiles, scoffed, “He just wants us to pay his medical bills. Hasn’t he lived long enough?” I had just been told to drop out of high school and get a job. When I tried to defend Grandpa, my fat, spoiled brother slapped me across the face. “Shut up, you adopted trash! What gives you the right to speak? If you care so much, you go!” Suddenly, a row of text floated across my vision like a live stream comment: [These idiots are so dumb and cruel. They don’t know the old family home got bought out by the government for thirty million dollars!] [Exactly! Money is nothing to the old man. He just wants to leave this world with some dignity.] [Ungrateful wolves. Raising them was a waste.] I gasped. I looked at my grandfather, who was wiping away tears, and then thought about my exams. “Okay!” I said. “I’ll go!” 1 They say having an elder in the house is like having a treasure. But in my family, Grandpa was just trash. Ever since he hurt his leg in the mines and got diagnosed with cancer, he became a thorn in my parents’ side. They hated that he couldn’t earn money and cost them medical fees. Their favorite phrase was, “Why won’t this useless old thing just die?” His biological grandson, my younger brother Tyler, despised him too. “Having a cripple for a grandpa is so embarrassing!” Grandpa never dared to talk back. He just sat in the corner, secretly wiping his tears. When we moved to the suburbs, my parents left him behind in the old countryside shack to rot. They hoped he would starve or freeze to death. But then he showed up with his offer. My parents laughed in his face. “Trying to scam us on your deathbed? Do you think we’re stupid?” Honestly, I didn’t believe a retired miner could have millions either. But when I tried to speak up for him, Tyler shoved me down. Grandpa tried to help me up, mumbling apologies. “Don’t hit your brother… it’s all my fault…” Tyler sneered. “He’s not my brother. You two are perfect for each other—one old corpse and one little bastard.” My mom looked at Tyler with pride. “Exactly. If you’re so noble, Lucas, you go take care of the old man. Get out of my house!” “And quit school while you’re at it! We told you to get a job ages ago!” I struggled to stand up, dizzy. That’s when the floating text appeared again. [The old man is hiding his wealth to test his descendants!] [These morons are celebrating while losing a fortune!] [Forget it, the old man is so heartbroken he’s planning to donate it all!] I took a deep breath. College exams were coming up. If I went to the countryside… But looking at the weeping old man, I gritted my teeth. “Fine! I’ll go!” I would take care of him. And if the money was real? I wanted it. 2 I packed my things into a single duffel bag. My mom threw it out the door. My dad leaned against the doorframe, smoking. “Fed you for fifteen years for nothing. Ungrateful wolf.” Mom added, “If you want to help that old thing, get lost. Saves us a mouth to feed.” I picked up my bag without a word, supported Grandpa, and we headed back to the old house. It was an escape for me, too. Exams were approaching, and they were convinced I wouldn’t get into college. They constantly pressured me to drop out. “Lucas, your grades are trash. You’re not cut out for school!” “Quit and work! We can only afford to send Tyler to college!” My 250-pound brother spent all day gaming and barely passed his classes. Meanwhile, I was in the top 100 of my grade, aiming for a top-tier university. But every time I showed them my report card, Tyler claimed I cheated. My dad would whip me with his belt. “Cheating scum!” Mom would sneer, “Of course he cheated. How could a stray be smarter than our Tyler?” They had sentenced me to failure. But I didn’t want to give up. I wanted to go to college. Grandpa’s house was dilapidated. It was where we all lived before my parents adopted me, back when they were poor. Now, it was the tomb they prepared for him. Despite his bad leg, Grandpa cleaned up the room with the best sunlight for me. “This room is bright. Good for Lucas to study.” Watching him carefully place my tattered books on the desk, my eyes watered. The floating text returned: [Finally, someone who appreciates education! The old man has high hopes for Lucas!] [Tyler is the bad seed lying about cheating. Only Grandpa believes in Lucas!] I was adopted after my parents struggled with infertility. But a year later, Mom got pregnant with Tyler. Suddenly, I was a burden. “Should have never adopted the little bastard.” “Throw him out. We have our own son now.” But due to reputation and laws, they kept me. They named my brother Tyler—strong, ambitious. For me? My dad looked at skinny little me and said, “Been here two years without a real name. Since you’re the extra one, let’s call you Spare.” Just kidding. They named me Lucas, but they treated me like a spare part. Growing up, I was mocked. “Lucas the stray! Tyler’s servant!” When I was ten, Tyler, already pushing 180 pounds, laughed while I got beaten for not wanting to go to school. It was Grandpa who took me to change my middle name to “Hope.” He hoped my life would be bright. It wasn’t. But I was grateful. 3 After I missed a few days of school, Tyler called to gloat. “Hey, stray. Regretting it yet?” “Missed two days already. Bet you have to wake up before dawn to walk to school from that dump!” “Your grades were fake anyway. Now you’re gonna be dead last!” “If you kneel and beg me, maybe I’ll put in a good word with Mom and Dad.” [Pfft! Don’t beg him, Lucas! He’s just trying to gross you out!] [Exactly! With Grandpa’s backing, Lucas doesn’t need school! Grandpa’s about to hire a private tutor!] [A famous tutor is already at the door!] As I stared at the text, a voice called from the yard. “Is this Lucas’s home?” I hung up and went outside. A middle-aged man in plain clothes stood there with a briefcase. “Hi, I’m Lucas.” Grandpa hobbled out. “Ah, Mr. Stone! Lucas, this is the tutor I hired for you.” [Arthur Stone! Grandpa actually got THE Arthur Stone!] [With Stone tutoring him, Lucas is gonna crush it!] I was stunned. Arthur Stone was a legend. His name was on the textbooks we used. He was a former senior educator at the top magnet school in the state and helped write the college entrance exams. Grandpa hired him? I politely greeted him. “Thank you, Mr. Stone.” Stone smiled. “Let’s get to work.” He was incredible. In two hours, I learned more than I had in a month at my crappy high school. Before leaving, Stone praised me to Grandpa. “His foundation is solid. It’s a shame his school put him in the remedial class. With some work, he can get into an Ivy.” Grandpa beamed, organizing a stack of old certificates. “I knew my Lucas had potential.” My heart trembled. Those were my old award certificates. Mom had thrown them in the trash when we moved. Grandpa had saved them. 4 My days in the village were fulfilling. But every night, I heard Grandpa vomiting in pain. My parents said he had cancer and was dying. I looked at the floating text for answers. [Grandpa has leukemia. He’s been suffering for years!] [Luckily he has money for the best treatments. If he relied on his son, he’d be dead already!] [He’s in remission now and just wanted to spend time with family, but those ingrates kicked him out!] Leukemia. It wasn’t necessarily a death sentence if we could find a bone marrow match. I decided to get tested next time I went to the city. Half a month later, I returned to school for a mock exam. Grandpa’s house was far, so I had to bike starting at 5 AM. Grandpa didn’t buy me a car or a house near school. [The old man is testing Lucas!] [He needs to see if Lucas has the grit to handle millions!] At school, Tyler blocked me on the stairs. I looked down at his multiple chins. “The stray came back? Here to see if you’re last or second to last?” I ignored him and picked up my bag he threw on the floor. “You think taking care of that old corpse will get you anything? Idiot!” He was jealous. He thought I’d have a miserable time, but I looked… peaceful.

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I had just stepped onto the stage for the company’s holiday gala raffle when my boss, Gavin Chase, shoved a crumpled piece of paper into my hand. “Top Salesman’s exclusive prize! Go on, open it up and show everyone!” he sneered. Under the expectant gaze of the entire company, I unfolded the paper. Scrawled in messy handwriting were the words: Janitorial Duty: Clean all office restrooms for three days. As the room erupted in laughter, Gavin crossed his arms, smirking at me. “Generous, right? I mean, we all know your sales numbers come from sleeping with wealthy cougars. It’s dirty money. To keep things fair for the other hardworking employees, you shouldn’t mind putting in a little extra elbow grease, right?” The laughter turned into a roar. Sarah Sterling, the CEO and my girlfriend of twelve years, stood right next to him. She watched the whole scene unfold. And just like always, she didn’t say a single word to defend me. Everyone expected me to snap. To scream. To break down. Instead, I just nodded calmly. “Okay.” The next day, the company received over 300 cancellation notices for pending real estate closings. The capital chain snapped instantly. Gavin and Sarah begged me to call the buyers back. I smiled and replied, “No thanks. If I save the company again, my performance will be too high. I wouldn’t want to make the other employees feel ‘unbalanced.’” Chapter 1 When I said I accepted the “reward,” the venue went silent for a split second before the laughter redoubled. Gavin laughed the hardest, leaning back, practically wiping tears from his eyes. “See? That’s why he’s the Top Dog! Thickest skin in the game!” I ignored his sarcasm and spoke into the microphone, my voice steady. “I just want to clarify one thing. Since the company has assigned me this janitorial duty, this will be my only task for the next three days. I will not be responsible for any other work.” Gavin paused, looking confused. He hadn’t expected a counter-condition. It was the end of the fiscal year. All the sales targets had been met because of me, but the deals were still in escrow. We were waiting on the clients to finalize their bank transfers. Me stepping away from sales right now was essentially handing him a loaded gun pointed at the company’s revenue. But Gavin thought I was just losing my mind from anger. He didn’t think twice. “Fine! If you don’t want to do sales, don’t. It’s not like the Sales Department is a one-man show. Do you really think Sterling Estates stops spinning without you?” He sneered. “Just focus on the toilets. If I see a single hair on the floor, you’re fired.” I didn’t say another word. I turned and walked off the stage. In the hallway, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to my exclusive client group chat—a group known as “The Whales.” [Me: Ladies and Gentlemen, I am facing a position change. Please delay your bank transfers and closing procedures temporarily. Await my further notice.] The moment I hit send, a text from Sarah popped up. [Sarah: Come to my office. We need to talk.] I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and drove home. We fell in love in college. After graduation, at Sarah’s begging, I turned down a job offer with a starting salary of $200k to help her build her real estate brokerage from scratch. She always said, “Once we hit $100 million in revenue, we’ll get married properly.” I believed her. I gave everything to the company. In return, I got ignored and suppressed. Gavin had only been at the company for three months. His sales numbers were a fraction of mine. But because Sarah was obsessed with his “Ivy League background” and “overseas experience,” she bypassed me and made him the Sales Director. And I, the top salesman for three years running, was rewarded with three days of cleaning toilets. Back at the office the next morning, amidst looks of pity and mockery, I walked to the utility closet and put on a janitor’s vest. Just as I picked up a mop, a voice rang out behind me. “Liam, stop!” Chapter 2 It was Sarah. Usually, she pretended we were strangers in the office to “maintain professionalism.” This was the first time she had called out to me publicly. She walked over, her face cold, looking down at me. “I told you to come to my office. Why didn’t you?” “I was busy working,” I said flatly. “Didn’t see it.” It was the excuse she always used on me. Hearing it come from my mouth made her choke on her words. “It’s just a small prank,” she sighed, lowering her voice so others wouldn’t hear. “Do you have to throw a tantrum?” “I know you’re unhappy about Gavin’s little joke, and I know I didn’t step in. But he’s the new Director. He’s boosted morale. If I sided with you in front of everyone, it would undermine his authority. You need to be more understanding of my position.” “You know damn well that wasn’t a reward,” I cut her off. “That was bullying. Pure and simple.” She frowned. “Liam, don’t start.” “And what morale did he boost?” I continued. “Do you think our numbers are up because Gavin sits in his office drinking lattes? If I wasn’t out there in the rain and snow, skipping meals to meet clients, do you think we would have closed a single deal this winter?” Sarah’s face darkened. “Liam, don’t be so arrogant. You act like you hold up Sterling Estates all by yourself.” “If it wasn’t for Gavin’s ‘Warm Winter’ marketing campaign, would we have that much foot traffic? You’re benefiting from his strategy. Don’t act like a martyr.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Gavin’s “Warm Winter” campaign consisted of setting up a folding table outside the office, serving cheap instant coffee, and giving away dollar-store gloves that fell apart in a day. The coffee went cold, and the gloves ended up in the trash down the block. In Sarah’s eyes, that gimmick was genius. And my twelve years of blood and sweat were just me “riding his coattails.” The last thread of affection I held for her snapped. I threw the mop into the bucket. It landed with a loud splash. “Fine,” I said cold. “Since you think Gavin is the savior of this company, I quit. And we’re done. I’m breaking up with you.” Chapter 3 We had been together for over a decade. No matter how disappointed I was, I had never threatened to leave. Sarah stared at me, eyes wide with shock. “Liam, are you insane? Do you know what you’re saying?” Her shock quickly turned to anger. “We are inches away from the revenue goal I promised. Just 300 more closings and we hit the target. If you mess this up now, I won’t give you a second chance!” I didn’t waste another breath. I walked out. When I got home, my phone rang. It was my dad. “Liam! Are you out of your mind?” he screamed the moment I picked up. “How dare you fight with Sarah? Go apologize to her right now!” “You’re a man in his thirties! You have what you have because of her! Don’t be ungrateful!” His voice dropped lower. “Sarah is young, beautiful, and rich. A woman like that sticking with you for twelve years is a blessing! If you piss her off, who’s going to want you? You need a capable woman to hold you up. Go beg for forgiveness and lock down that marriage. Stop acting like a child!” “Without Sarah, you are nothing!” I held the phone away from my ear, laughing bitterly. For years, Sarah had bought my dad’s loyalty with cheap gifts—cigarettes, whiskey, a red envelope here and there. He treated her like a savior and me like a parasite. “Dad,” I said calmly. “I’m done listening.” I hung up. I opened my phone to the client group chat. [Me: Everyone, I have officially resigned from Sterling Estates. If you have any real estate needs in the future, you can find me personally.] Less than a minute later, the group exploded. [Mr. Henderson: Liam is leaving? What about our escrow? I only trust you, Liam. I don’t trust that company.] [Mrs. Lee: Exactly. We chose Sterling because of your expertise. If you go, we go.] [TechCEO_Mike: I don’t care what logo is on your business card. I follow the talent. Liam, wherever you land, let us know.] [InvestCorp_J: My deal hasn’t closed yet. Liam, tell me where to sign the cancellation papers. I’ll move the portfolio to your new firm.] Messages poured in. No doubts. Just unconditional trust. Twelve years of devotion meant nothing to Sarah. But to these clients, my honesty meant everything. It wasn’t that my efforts were wasted. It was just that Sarah wasn’t worthy of them. I wiped a tear from my eye and typed: [Thank you all for the trust. Once I settle on my next move, you will be the first to know.] Chapter 4 Just then, a text came in from an unknown number. It was marked as “Executive Recruiter.” [Mr. Cole, hello. We’ve been tracking your reputation in the industry. We heard you might be on the market. Our client is prepared to offer double your current salary and a Director title. Interested?] I replied: [Let’s talk.] I slept better that night than I had in years. The next morning, I went to the office to pack my personal belongings. I ignored the whispers. Gavin strutted up to my desk, a smug grin on his face. “Hey, Liam, buddy. Can’t take a joke?” “Just because you had to scrub a toilet, you break up with the CEO? A little dramatic, don’t you think?” He pulled a red envelope from his pocket. “Tell you what. I’ll be the bigger man. Here’s a personal bonus from me to smooth things over.” He handed me the envelope. “There’s fifty bucks in there. Take yourself out to lunch.” Fifty dollars. The company gala had given out thousands in cash prizes to random interns. The top salesman got fifty bucks and a mop. I slapped his hand away. It wasn’t a hard hit, but Gavin shrieked like he’d been shot and threw himself backward, crashing into my desk. “Liam! I was just trying to be nice! Why did you hit me?!” Sarah rushed out of her office. “Liam! My patience has limits!” she yelled. “Apologize to Gavin right now or get out!” I shook her hand off my arm. “Sarah, is your memory failing? I quit yesterday. I’m just here to get my box.” Sarah’s face twisted. She blocked my path to the elevator. “You can leave, but the client list stays. Those 300 pending deals belong to Sterling Estates.” I stopped and looked at her. “Fine.” I reached into my box, pulled out a stack of files, and dropped them on the nearest desk. “But I’ll remind you. Those 300 clients signed because of me. Not because of Sterling Estates. And definitely not because of you or Gavin.” Sarah laughed. “You have quite the ego, Liam. Without the company platform, you’re nobody. You think they’ll follow you? Don’t flatter yourself.” Gavin chimed in from the floor. “Exactly! We’ll take over these accounts and close them by Friday. You think the company stops turning without you?” I didn’t argue. I picked up my box and walked to the elevator. As the doors slid open, a receptionist came sprinting down the hall, face pale as a ghost. “Ms. Sterling! Gavin! It’s a disaster!” “The phones won’t stop ringing! It’s the clients! They’re all canceling! Every single one!”

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On Christmas, our fifth year together, I tore apart the house looking for a missing stocking—the one holding the custom engagement ring I’d bought him. Then the police called. Vincent had been in a bad fight. I hurried to the station, signed him out, and saw his face bruised, smelling of cheap whiskey. He stayed silent about what happened. Later, his phone lit up with messages from a female colleague, Erin: Vincent, thank you for standing up to my ex-husband. Without you these past months, my son and I wouldn’t have made it. Leo loves the stocking you gave him. He waits for “Daddy Vincent” every day. Give us a family. Enraged, I threw the phone. We fought bitterly. I was hysterical; he called me heartless. Finally, he promised to transfer Erin to another team and cut all contact. And it seemed he had—their work chats were strictly professional. Until I found the hidden space on his phone. They’d just moved their conversations to a private account, full of photos with Erin and her son, all warmly congratulated. Scrolling back to Christmas night, I saw her message: I found a ring in the stocking. Is your girlfriend proposing? I can return it. He replied: Don’t. Pretend you never saw it. I’m not ready to marry. Fine. He’d get his wish. After five years, it was time for me to go home. 1 Vincent was busy in the kitchen. “Chloe, I’ve reheated everything a few times. It might not taste great anymore.” “Tell me what you want, I’ll order something. Or I can take you out. That new Japanese place on the corner is still…” He turned and saw my tear-filled eyes. His expression softened instantly. “Hey, come on. Don’t be like that.” “You’re the most understanding girl in the world, right?” I pulled away from his touch, my voice cold. “Get the Christmas stocking back.” Vincent’s smile froze. He tore off his apron, balled it up, and threw it at my feet. He pointed a trembling finger at my face for a moment before forcing out a single, grit-toothed word. “Fine.” He made the call. Erin said her son had accidentally ripped a seam in the stocking. “I’m so sorry. Tell me how much it was, and I’ll pay you back.” Vincent looked like he was about to lose it. One Christmas stocking. A never-ending drama. “It’s fine,” he said into the phone. “Chloe’s just throwing a little tantrum. I’ll buy her a new…” “It’s not the same, Vincent,” I cut in. Suddenly, he smashed the phone against the wall. It exploded into pieces, and a few shards flew out, cutting my arm and drawing blood. His voice boomed. “What the hell is your problem today?!” “It’s a damn Christmas stocking, Chloe! Could you be any more obvious about your grudge against Erin?” I stared at him, stunned. Vincent pulled a wad of cash from his wallet and threw it in my face. The bills scattered, and among them were three ticket stubs from an amusement park. “Is that enough?” He pulled out a credit card. And threw it at me. “IS THAT ENOUGH?!” “I’M PAYING YOU BACK FOR HER!” My ears were ringing. In six years, this was the first time Vincent had ever been truly angry with me. He looked vicious, like he wanted to devour me whole. A dull ache bloomed in my chest. I was so hurt I couldn’t speak. All I could do was fumble through my phone’s photo album, desperately searching for the proof—the evidence from five years ago when he’d promised to marry me on this very day. He was the one who had forgotten. “That’s enough. Let’s both just cool off for a night.” Vincent pushed my phone away. “Chloe, you need to take a long, hard look at your own jealousy.” The door slammed shut. I started dry-heaving, my body convulsing uncontrollably. I clutched the fabric over my heart. It was the only thing that seemed to ease the feeling of suffocation. When the tears finally stopped and I could breathe again, I pulled myself off the floor and started packing my few belongings. I had arrived six years ago, full of courage and alone. I would leave six years later, just as alone. Erin posted on her private account. The caption read: 【The happiest Christmas ever.】 The photo was taken at an upscale restaurant. Vincent was holding her son, and Erin was nestled against his side. While I had been gone, they had gone out for a feast. The table was laden with food. The dishes Vincent had been reheating in the kitchen were their leftovers. Including a shrimp dish—Erin’s favorite, and a deadly allergen for me. He hadn’t even thought to pick them out for me. Vincent’s assistant had commented: “Whoa, that was fast. Erin’s charm is no joke.” “And to think Vincent is always going on at work about how he’s not the marrying type. Guess he fell for her in the end.” The screen went dark, reflecting my ashen face. My hands were shaking as I packed the last of my things. At the very bottom of my suitcase was the bus ticket from my journey to Chicago six years ago. A 32-hour ride. But my six years of devotion had never been real to him. 2 It was laughable, really. After all these years in Chicago, I had no friends, no job. The only money I had was what Vincent had thrown at me last night. The only thing I had learned was how to revolve around him. I learned to cook for him, to put him first, to empty my savings to buy him a twenty-thousand-dollar watch just to see him smile. I was such a fool. A fool who had offered up her heart, completely exposed, for him to trample on. “One ticket to Miami, please.” The woman behind the counter suddenly spoke. “Hey… aren’t you the girl from six years ago?” I looked up, a hint of color returning to my pale face. “You remember me?” The woman smiled. “How could anyone forget you two?” “Your boyfriend waited outside the station for you for a whole day and night. The snow was piling up on his shoulders, but he wouldn’t move, terrified he’d miss you.” “We told him to go inside, get a cup of coffee to warm up, but he just gave this shy smile and said he was starting a business, that he’d spent all his money on a gift for you. He couldn’t even afford a train ticket, said he’d walked for five hours just to get to the station.” I listened, captivated. My chest felt tight, a bitter ache spreading through it. From a rundown squat, to a tiny rental, to the spacious penthouse we lived in now. He had shouldered all the hardship alone. With hands raw from frostbite and calluses, he had built a life for us, brick by brick. A home. “We won’t have to be afraid of the winter anymore,” he’d said. “Chloe… I was so scared you would come find me. And so scared you wouldn’t.” “I was terrified you’d have to suffer with me.” “But I was even more terrified that you didn’t love me.” He had cried that day. He held me so tightly I thought I would merge into his body. My own tears streamed down my face. It was supposed to be a happy memory. How had it become so painful? “Here’s your ticket, honey.” My fingertips trembled as I took it. It felt less like a ticket and more like a blade, meant to sever the past. “Don’t cry.” The ticket agent glanced at the expensive jade bracelet on my wrist and seemed to relax a little. “When you build a life with a man from nothing, don’t measure it in love. Measure it in money. Measure it by how willing he is to provide for you.” I nodded. The ticket was crumpled in my fist. Just before boarding, Vincent arrived. He ran toward me, just like he had six years ago, and pulled me into a fierce hug. I could hear his ragged breathing, his frantic heartbeat, the tremor in his voice. “Don’t go…” “Chloe, I was just angry with you. I wasn’t trying to kick you out…” Vincent tore up my ticket, swept me into his arms, and placed me in the passenger seat of his car. “You don’t want me seeing Erin, right?” “I had her transferred. I’ll keep my distance from now on.” I was silent. I stared numbly at the little charm dangling from the rearview mirror—a gift from Erin. The car was filled with the scent of citrus—Erin’s perfume. The glove compartment, which used to be filled with my things, was now stuffed with snacks for a child and several tubes of lipstick that weren’t mine. I blinked, my eyes feeling incredibly dry. Vincent didn’t notice. He was chattering on about taking me to Japan for the holidays. I sighed softly. I didn’t even have the energy to nod. 3 Vincent never mentioned Erin again. Their chat history was strictly professional. It was a clean break. “Chloe, I’m up for the VP position, so things are going to be really busy for a while.” His voice sounded distant over the phone. Unreal. “I transferred some money to your account. Go out, do some shopping, buy yourself something nice. Don’t put all your energy into me.” He would come home after I was already asleep. He would leave in the morning while I was still dreaming. There was always breakfast he’d warmed up for me in the microwave, and my dirty clothes would be washed and hung to dry on the balcony. Every corner of the house held a trace of Vincent. I could see him. But I could no longer reach him. I could feel us drifting apart, our relationship rusting over. If you polished away the rust, it almost looked the same as before. But it was lighter now. Floating. A strong gust of wind could send it tumbling away. I was planning to take the money and leave, but then came the biggest complication of all: I was pregnant. At first, it was just fatigue, loss of appetite, constant nausea. I told Vincent. The next day, he brought home a bag full of pills for me to take. He didn’t even give me any instructions before rushing out the door again. It wasn’t until I felt terribly sick from the medication that I went to the hospital and found out. “We’ll have to run more tests to see if you can keep the baby,” the doctor said, her brow furrowed. “After taking so many antibiotics, there’s a risk of birth defects.” Two nurses had to help me out of the examination room. I spent the next six hours in the waiting area, the most agonizing six hours of my life. The backs of my hands were covered in bruises from where I’d dug my nails in. My eyes were wide open, streaming with tears of guilt. I cursed myself for not realizing sooner. For not being more careful with the medication. For just swallowing whatever Vincent handed me without a second thought. “For now, everything looks okay. Come back for a follow-up next month.” I was flooded with relief. My mood lifted, and I even ate an extra bowl of rice that evening. Vincent came home late that night. He reeked of alcohol, his cheek was split open and bleeding, and one of his eyes was swollen shut. “Did you get into a fight?” He mumbled something and went straight to the bathroom. His work phone, which he’d tossed on the bed, buzzed with a notification. 【Erin: Vincent, thank you so much for standing up for me today. Otherwise, my ex-husband would never stop harassing me.】 【Erin: I’ve been so helpless. If it weren’t for you being there for me these past few months, my son and I wouldn’t have made it. Leo loves you so much. He waits every day for Daddy Vincent to come play. Vincent, please, give us a family.】 The words hammered at my nerves. It hurt. My whole body felt like it was about to explode. Daddy Vincent… Then who would my child call daddy? Give us a family. Then what about my family? The one thing I had longed for my entire life, a safe harbor from the storm, was gone. Torn to shreds by Vincent’s own hands. I bit my tongue, the pain forcing me to stay focused as I scrolled through their entire chat history. They had never stopped talking. They had just moved from the open to the private. From his main account to a private one filled with friends and family, where every photo with Erin and her son was met with joyful blessings. I had been abandoned. Again. 【Erin: I found a ring in the stocking. Is your girlfriend planning to propose? I can bring it back.】 【Vincent: No need. Just pretend you never saw it. I’m not ready to get married yet.】 I couldn’t maintain my composure any longer. With trembling hands, I typed a reply: 【You like being the other woman that much? You can have my trash. He’s all yours.】 “Chloe, what are you doing with my phone?!” 4 Vincent’s gentleness, his thoughtfulness—it all vanished the second I crossed a line. He yanked me so hard I stumbled. I fell against the edge of the bed. Ignoring the sharp pain in my abdomen, I scrambled up and slapped him across the face. His already swollen face grew darker. He stared at the phone in my hand. “Give it to me.” I didn’t move. He lunged for it. He grabbed my hand, prying my fingers off one by one. There was a sickening crack as my knuckles twisted at an unnatural angle. He wrenched the phone from my grasp as I cried out in pain. “You can’t unsend it, Vincent. It’s too late.” I started laughing. It was a wild, unhinged sound. “I called her a homewrecker. A slut. Does that hurt your feelings?” “Erin is a…” CRACK. I was thrown back onto the bed. The slap knocked the words right out of my throat. They tumbled down into my stomach, twisting into pain, into nausea, into thorny vines that grew and tore me apart from the inside out. My eye throbbed, swollen and hot. I wondered if it had burst. Why else would it be leaking so much warmth? It couldn’t be tears. It had to be blood. “Do you have any idea how much you’re hurting her?!” Vincent roared. “Chloe, you’re going to drive her to suicide!” “Will you only be happy when she’s dead?!” My voice was a raw whisper. “Yes.” “I hope you all die.” Vincent went to the kitchen and came back with a knife. He forced it into my hand and held it to his own throat. His eyes were crazed, ready to take us both down. “Go on. Kill me.” “If you have the guts, then do it!” “Chloe, I never said I wouldn’t marry you. I just can’t deal with Erin’s situation and you at the same time.”

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My husband wanted to run off with his mistress, so he faked a “divorce,” staged his own death, and disappeared abroad. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just quietly filed for his death certificate and erased him from the registry. Years later, his parents gave me all their money and property. That’s when he came back, desperate to claim his inheritance. He knelt before his parents, begging: “Mom, Dad, I’m your son! I’m your only heir!” Chapter 1 It started with a Reddit post I saw late one night. u/Throwaway123: “I’ve got a girl on the side and want to leave my boring wife. How do I get her to agree to a divorce without her making a fuss?” The top comment read: “Easy. Fake a job transfer abroad that requires you to be ‘single’ for visa reasons. Convince her it’s just a paper divorce. You leave, live it up with your girl, and your wife stays home taking care of your aging parents. Win-win.” I felt sick reading it. I never expected that the very next day, my husband, Mark, would come home and say: “Honey, the company is offering me a huge opportunity abroad. But there’s a catch—the visa requires proof of single status.” “We need to get a fake divorce.” The moment Mark said those words, my mind flashed back to that Reddit thread. I swallowed the disgust rising in my throat and decided to test him. “Do you have to go? The kids are small, and your parents haven’t been well…” “I have to!” He cut me off sharply. Realizing he sounded too aggressive, he softened his tone. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Two years abroad, and I come back as a manager. My salary will double. Honey, I’m doing this for us, for our family. You support me, right?” When I didn’t answer immediately, he grabbed my hand, looking deeply into my eyes. “It’s just a piece of paper. The company insists single employees are more ‘stable’ for overseas assignments. We’ll be divorced legally, but nothing changes between us. I’ll send my paycheck home every month.” “The moment I’m back, we’ll remarry. You have to trust me.” Trust him? I’d sooner trust a snake. There is no such thing as a “fake” divorce. Once that judge signs the decree, it’s done. Looking at his earnest face, whatever trust I had left for him evaporated. I didn’t need to hear anymore. I nodded. “Okay, Mark. Whatever you say.” Mark’s face lit up. “Great. No time to lose. Let’s file tomorrow.” Chapter 2 That night, after Mark fell asleep, I tried to check his phone to see who the mistress was. But he was guarding it like a dragon, sleeping with it tucked under his pillow. So, I opened Reddit instead. u/Throwaway123 had updated. “Convinced the old ball and chain to sign the papers. The plan is perfect: once I’m abroad, I’ll fake my death and go no-contact. No need to send money home. In a few years, when my parents kick the bucket and the kid is grown, I’ll come back and collect the inheritance.” The comments were full of praise, calling him a genius. I couldn’t help myself. I created a burner account and commented: “Aren’t you afraid of karma?” The replies came fast and furious. “Karma? Being stuck with a boring wife is the real karma.” “Bro, you clearly aren’t married. Domestic flowers never smell as sweet as the wild ones.” Reading the toxic filth, I deleted my comment in disgust. Mark slept soundly beside me, blowing little bubbles as he snored. The more I looked at him, the more I hated him. I reached out and slapped him across the face. He jolted awake. Before he could react, I hugged him tight. “Honey! Did you have a nightmare? It’s okay, I’m here.” He touched his cheek, confused, muttered something, and was back to snoring in seconds. Go ahead, I thought, grinding my teeth. Leave. Just don’t expect to ever come back. Chapter 3 The next day, Mark practically dragged me to the courthouse. There was a mandatory waiting period, and during that month, Mark was the model husband. He cooked, cleaned, and doted on me, terrifyingly afraid I’d change my mind. Even his parents were impressed. Our four-year-old daughter, Lily, said, “Mommy, Daddy is so nice to you. I want a husband like Daddy when I grow up.” She was too young to see the filth behind the mask. It’s okay. I’ll teach her. Words are cheap. Only tangible assets are real. When the divorce decree finally arrived, Mark snapped a photo of it immediately. u/Throwaway123: “Free at last!” He came home and started packing. He told his parents and Lily that the company was sending him on a long assignment. No one else knew we were divorced. When he left, he hugged me at the door, unable to hide his grin. “Honey, take care of Mom and Dad for me. When I get back, we’re going to live the good life.” I waved goodbye, looking every bit the reluctant wife. When I got back to our room, I checked our joint account. Empty. He had taken the $30,000 we had saved. I reached for the phone to scream at him, then stopped. That account was just a decoy. Before he started cheating, Mark handed over his paycheck, but I had always been careful. If groceries cost $200, I told him they were $500. If utilities were $150, I said $300. I skimmed off the top for years. The joint account was for show. My real savings were in a separate account only I knew about. Plus the dowry from my parents and gifts from his parents over the years… I had over $100,000 stashed away. A woman has to look out for herself. After Mark left, life went on. His last Reddit update came at the end of the month. u/Throwaway123: “Bros, starting my new life of freedom. Living the dream for you all!” Attached was a photo of two hands intertwined against a sunset. The IP address showed he was overseas. Chapter 4 I pretended to know nothing and continued caring for Lily and his parents. Two days later, my father-in-law fell. A brain hemorrhage landed him in the ICU. My mother-in-law cried as she called Mark. Thirty calls, no answer. She went to his company, only to be told there was no overseas assignment. Mark had resigned a month ago. Mark was gone. His mother panicked, threatening to call the police. That’s when I started to cry. “Mom, what do I do? I think Mark lied to me.” I “confessed” about the fake divorce. “Mom,” I sobbed, “He took all the money in the joint account. Do you think he has someone else? Did he trick me into a divorce just to run away with her?” “He took everything! Dad needs surgery money, what are we going to do?” “That animal!” My mother-in-law screamed, stomping her foot before fainting from the shock. I suppressed a smirk and paid the hospital bills from my secret stash. The surgery was successful. When my mother-in-law woke up, I was sitting by her bed, eyes red from onion fumes. “Mom, don’t worry. I’m here.” She looked at my wrist. The heavy gold bangle she gave me for my wedding was gone. “Sarah, where’s your bracelet?” I pulled my hand back, lowering my head to hide my “sadness,” revealing my bare neck where my necklace used to be. “Dad needed the surgery. Mark took all the cash, so I… I sold my jewelry. It should cover us for a while.” “Mom, don’t worry. Mark might be heartless, but you and Dad have always been good to me. I won’t abandon you.” She burst into tears, gripping my hand. “Sarah, Mark wronged you. It’s our fault for raising such a bastard.” “From now on, you are our own daughter. As far as we’re concerned, Mark is dead.” Inside, I was doing a victory dance. Outwardly, I wiped a tear. “Mom, don’t say that. You’ve always been like real parents to me.”

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At our daughter’s high school graduation party, my husband got drunk. He pulled our daughter aside, slurring his words as he drilled advice into her head. “Lily, you can date in college, but listen to me. If a guy is broke but keeps chasing you relentlessly, block him!” Lily looked confused. David let out a mysterious, knowing laugh and explained, “Because a man who truly loves you wouldn’t bear to let you suffer with him!” “And anyone who shows weakness or cries to you about their ‘childhood trauma’ to gain your sympathy? They’re just looking for a host to suck dry. Run away!” After listening to him, I didn’t sleep a wink all night. The next morning, while he was still hungover, I packed my bags and left the house. 1 It was Lily’s graduation party. David had too much whiskey. As the guests thinned out, his laughter turned into tears. The alcohol had stripped away his usual composure, leaving him an emotional wreck. I handed him a tissue to wipe his face. He shrugged his shoulder violently, dodging my hand as if my touch repulsed him. Lily walked over. “Dad, what are you doing? You’re going to make me cry too.” David immediately grabbed Lily’s hand. They leaned their foreheads together, weeping like children. I stood there, tissue in hand, completely sidelined. I couldn’t even get a word in. It took David a long time to pull himself together. He looked up, pulling a tissue for Lily this time, and started his lecture. “Lily, listen to your dad. If a guy offers nothing but sweet words and zero action, he’s a scammer.” “If he’s poor but pursues you aggressively, pass on him immediately. He’s either after your future money or he wants to drag you down into the mud with him. If he really loved you, he wouldn’t want you to struggle.” “And the ones who cry to you? The ones who talk about how broken their families are just to trigger your savior complex? Ignore them.” For every sentence David spoke, Lily nodded solemnly. They went back and forth, crying and laughing, lost in their own world for a long time. Neither of them noticed when I went back to the bedroom. I listened to David’s “wisdom” through the door as I started packing my suitcase. The next morning, when David woke up from his drunken stupor, I had already left the home I’d built for twenty years. 2 “Divorce?” David’s suppressed anger vibrated through the phone. “You need a reason, Sarah! Don’t tell me you’re jealous because I cried with Lily last night?” He let out a scoff of disbelief. “Can you stop making a scene right now? The kid is heading to college next week. We have so much to pack. Isn’t it embarrassing for a woman your age to be jealous of her own daughter?” David was an expert at making people feel nauseous. We both knew the real reason, but he chose to play dumb, framing me as an unreasonable, jealous mother. He remembered exactly what he told our daughter last night. Sweet words with no action. Poor but relentless. Crying to gain sympathy. Every single point was a description of how he chased me twenty years ago. Back then, he was broke but acted like our love was a matter of life and death. His family situation was a mess, but he told me I was his “only light,” his courage to crawl out of the abyss. I fought against my own family’s wishes to marry him when he had nothing. I suffered through the hard years with him. And now, right in front of me, he told our daughter that these behaviors were the hallmarks of a predator. He was terrified Lily would be tricked. Terrified she would end up like me—blinded by “love.” Maybe he was too drunk to remember I was there. Or maybe the mask had slipped so far he didn’t care if I heard the truth. Either way, I was done. When he told Lily, “Honey, you only live once, I want you to be selfish,” I made up my mind. No one understood my decision. Shortly after I hung up on David, my best friend, Jess, called. “Hahaha, Sarah, you’re hilarious! Jealous of your own kid? That’s a new low!” “You don’t know how good you have it. Your husband is obsessed with your daughter. My husband is a deadbeat dad who doesn’t lift a finger.” I could hear the noise of a dinner party in the background. “Sarah, stop acting up and go home. David spoiled you too much. This is just the smell of too much love!” “Exactly, Sarah! Come back. David isn’t even asking us to convince you; he’s basically bragging about how close you two are. Most couples our age don’t even touch, let alone fight like lovers.” The atmosphere on the other end was jovial. David was playing the role of the good-natured, henpecked husband perfectly. “Stop teasing her,” David’s voice came through, smooth and fake. “Sarah has thin skin.” “Aww, look at him protecting her!” The suffocating feeling in my chest grew heavier. “David knows exactly why I want a divorce,” I said coldly into the phone. “We’re decent people. I just want a clean break. There’s no need to air our dirty laundry.” The other end was too loud; the “peacemakers” ignored my tone, assuming I was just throwing a tantrum. I hung up and texted David: Don’t contact me until you agree to sign the papers. 3 Lily couldn’t believe it either. “Mom, are you really divorcing Dad because he loves me more?” There was a hint of resentment in her sobbing voice. I patiently explained that I was glad her father loved her. Being loved was the best thing for her. “But Mom, you know you’re almost fifty, right?” My heart sank. My voice turned cold. “I recall your father telling you last night that you only live once and should have the courage to follow your heart. You agreed with him then.” “You’re an adult now, Lily. Mom just wants to follow her heart for once.” “…But…” Lily couldn’t understand. I cut her off. There were no “buts.” I simply refused to spend the rest of my life in an environment of double standards. David hadn’t cheated. He hadn’t committed a crime. But the micro-aggressions, the subtle neglect over twenty years, had suffocated me. It started when Lily was small. Once, we were reading in bed. David was tickling Lily’s feet under the covers. They were laughing. Then David accidentally grabbed my foot. The look of disgust on his face was instant. He threw my foot aside and jokingly said, “Ew, smelly.” Lily laughed. I couldn’t. David went to wash his hands. I remembered how, when we were dating, he used to warm my cold feet against his stomach in winter. When I confronted him, he said adults have bacteria and he didn’t want to infect Lily. He ended the argument with, “You almost died giving birth to her. How can I not love her with everything I have?” It was a statement full of holes, but I forced myself to believe it. Over the years, the difference in treatment became the norm. When he came home, he’d hug Lily enthusiastically, then bump my shoulder without looking at me. If Lily spoke, he listened intently. If I spoke, he was perfunctory. If food was “too cold” (in the Chinese medicine sense), he’d snatch it from Lily and dump it on my plate. He told me love transforms into duty and guardianship. I believed him. But his drunken truth-telling exposed my twenty-year marriage for what it was: A scam. It didn’t start with love. It started with calculation. 4 I stopped answering David’s calls. I told him I’d meet him only to sign the papers. But things spiraled out of control. While scrolling TikTok, I saw David on a livestream with a popular relationship guru, “Coach Chloe.” I followed her account. She often discussed parenting teenagers. David knew I’d see it. David’s voice was deep, full of confusion and sorrow. “I just want my wife to come home so we can talk. If she’s jealous of our daughter, I can change. I can change anything. I just don’t want her to run away like a teenager.” “Our daughter leaves for college in a week. I just want her to put aside her anger for the child’s sake.” Then, Lily’s voice came through the speaker. “Mom, I can’t reach you. I know you watch this stream. Please come home. I promise I won’t fight for Dad’s attention anymore.” The livestream exploded. Comments flooded in: “Jealous of her own daughter??” “Classic narcissist mom!” Coach Chloe froze, processing the drama. “Poor child,” she finally said. “Listen to me, honey. Do not cry. This is not your fault.” She raised her voice. “No child should have to bear the burden of their mother running away because she’s jealous of her father’s love!” “Your mother’s jealousy is pathological. She is forcing you to participate in her mental illness. Sacrificing a daughter’s happiness for her ego is pure selfishness!” Coach Chloe leaned into the camera, her face filling the screen. David interrupted, playing the saint. “Please don’t say that about her. I just want her to come home. We can solve this privately.” “Privately?” Chloe scoffed. “Look at you, defending her even now. Honestly, sir, you enabled this. You spoiled your wife like a child, so now she competes with your actual child!” She took a deep breath and addressed the camera directly. “To the wife watching this: I don’t know how you prioritize love and family. But ask yourself, if your parents and your husband were sick, who would you help first? Your parents, right? So why do you demand your husband put you above his own flesh and blood?” “You are selfish, self-centered, and sick.” The comments were cheering her on. “Drag her!” “She has Princess Syndrome!” Coach Chloe continued her tirade. “You’re nearly fifty, yet you act like a toddler. Your husband protected you too well. So I’ll say what he won’t.” “Read a book. Find yourself. Stop making your husband your entire world. You are suffocating your family. Your husband is miserable. Your daughter is traumatized.” “Recognize this: You are the problem. You are not a normal mother. Stop trying to manipulate your family with these stunts!” The stream’s numbers skyrocketed. Chloe ranted for twenty minutes. I was flayed alive by strangers. In the end, Chloe gifted David and Lily books. One for me, to “broaden my horizons,” and one for Lily, to “heal her trauma.” Lily thanked her.

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