Category: English

The new secretary at the office has the same name as me, but she’s ten years younger. During the company’s annual health check, the medical staff mixed up our ages and gave me her HIV-positive test results by mistake. When I found out it was a false alarm, I was relieved. I was still trying to figure out how to gently break the truth to the secretary when I accidentally caught her hooking up with my husband in his office. I stood outside Connor Blackwell’s office, the test report in my hand practically crumpling under my grip. A woman’s flirty voice drifted through the door. “Connor, be gentle. I’m carrying your baby, remember?” Connor held her close, his voice dripping with affection as he chuckled softly. “Don’t worry. The doctor said it’s fine to have sex during pregnancy.” “But…” “Relax. Once the baby’s born, I’m making you my wife.” My brain exploded. The woman kept up her act, her voice sickeningly sweet. “But what about Iris? She’s already 35. Poor thing.” My name is Iris Bennett. The company’s new secretary? Her name is Iris Bennett too. She’s ten years younger than me, fresh out of college, all dewy-eyed and perky. Connor let out a cold snort. “She can’t even give me a kid. If she wasn’t somewhat useful to the company all these years, I would’ve divorced her ages ago.” I leaned against the hallway wall, my entire body going cold. We’ve been married for ten years. I never got pregnant because Connor has low sperm count. To protect his fragile ego, I covered for him. I told everyone it was my problem, that we could try IVF. To have a baby, I endured round after round of fertility shots, suffering through every needle. Turns out, in his mind, I was just a hen that couldn’t lay eggs. The secretary giggled happily. “Connor, I saw this pregnancy mattress I really want. It’s like fifty thousand dollars…” “Buy it.” Connor agreed without hesitation. “I’ll transfer you a hundred grand. Use the rest for supplements. You’re carrying my child—I won’t let you suffer.” Just last night, I’d transferred a hundred thousand dollars to Connor. He said his mom had a heart attack and needed bypass surgery. All his money was tied up in projects, and he couldn’t liquidate fast enough. That hundred thousand was my money. My mom gave it to me before she died. She said it was a woman’s security, not to be touched unless absolutely necessary. I transferred it anyway. I thought it was saving a life. Turns out, it went to his mistress. I turned and left, my steps unsteady, my mind a chaotic mess. I thought back to three days ago, when the company organized its annual wellness screening. I arrived late. By the time I got there, all the test packets had been handed out. The nurse rummaged around for a while before finding mine. “Iris Bennett, right?” I glanced at it, ready to shove the report into my bag, when I noticed a line of small print at the bottom: [HIV preliminary screening: Positive. Recommend follow-up testing immediately.] I froze. My first thought was: impossible. Connor and I have been married ten years. Our sex life has been practically nonexistent. In the past six months, he barely touched me. And I’ve never been with anyone else. How could I have this disease? Then a nurse rushed over, flustered, saying they’d mixed up the reports. That’s when I realized—they’d accidentally swapped mine with another Iris in the company. She was the new secretary. Only 25 years old. I was still trying to figure out how to delicately suggest she get retested when I overheard the conversation in his office.

I didn’t go back to the office. Instead, I drove straight to the city’s CDC clinic. Registration. Blood draw. Testing. The doctor said post-exposure prophylaxis works best within 72 hours of high-risk contact. Taking it now? The effectiveness was uncertain. I picked up the medication and swallowed it with cold water. Whether it worked or not, I had to take it. As I walked out of the clinic, I spotted a familiar license plate. Connor’s black Audi. In the passenger seat, the secretary leaned against him, smiling sweetly. They were at the clinic too. I ducked behind a pillar and overheard the secretary asking in a sugary voice: “Connor, did you hear? Someone at the company tested positive for HIV.” Connor frowned. “Who told you that?” “Jake from HR told me secretly. He said they didn’t release the name to protect privacy.” The secretary lowered her voice. “Who do you think it is?” Connor scoffed. “Who cares? It’s got nothing to do with us. Just focus on the baby and stop worrying.” “But…” “No buts.” Connor pulled her closer. “That kind of dirty disease—only people who sleep around get it. Not like you who gave me her first time.” She nestled into his arms, blushing. “Then you better treat me right…” “Of course I will.” I stayed hidden behind the pillar, my nails digging into my palms. Her first time? If she’d only been with Connor, she wouldn’t have that disease. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was Marcus Reed, the headhunter. “Have you thought about it? We’re still holding the position for you. Fifty percent salary increase, plus equity incentives.” Marcus had been trying to recruit me for six months. I’d always turned him down. Because Connor built his company from the ground up, and I was his first employee. From a startup with three desks to a team of over fifty people—I’d given everything. I thought we’d be together forever. Now I see how stupid I was. “I’ve made up my mind.” My voice was calm. “I can start next week.” “Fantastic!” Marcus sounded thrilled. “I’ll send the offer letter right away.” I hung up and watched Connor’s car pull out of the clinic parking lot. The last bit of reluctance in my heart vanished completely. That evening, Connor came home early. For once. Takeout boxes sat on the table. He’d even lit candles. “You’re back?” He looked up at me, smiling warmly. “Long day?” I stood in the doorway, unmoving. “What’s wrong?” He walked over, reaching for my bag. I stepped back. His hand froze mid-air. “I’m not feeling well.” I said. “Might be coming down with something.” His eyes flickered, but he quickly smiled again. “Get some rest then. Oh, by the way, I’m going on a business trip next week. About a week.” I sneered inwardly. Going on a romantic getaway with the secretary , more like. I’d just seen her bragging about it on Instagram. “Okay.” I nodded. “I’m going on a trip too.” He blinked. “You’re traveling?” “Yeah. A project I need to close.” I kept my expression neutral. “Might be gone two weeks.” “That long?” He frowned, but quickly relaxed. “Alright. Stay safe.” Then he leaned closer. “It’s been a while since we… you know. How about tonight?” He smiled suggestively, his hand sliding to my waist. Every hair on my body stood on end. Not from desire. From disgust. “I can’t.” I pushed him away. “I’m sick. I don’t want you to catch it.” He looked annoyed. “It’s just a cold…” “What if it’s the flu?” I stared at him. “You can’t afford to get sick right now. The company needs you.” He finally backed off, looking sheepish. “Fine. Get some sleep.” I locked myself in the bathroom. Turned on the shower. My stomach churned. I scrubbed the places he’d touched, scrubbing until my skin turned red. Thank God he hadn’t touched me in the past six months. Otherwise, I’d be the one at the clinic getting blood drawn.

The next morning, I went to the office to submit my resignation letter. The HR manager looked shocked. “Ms. Bennett, why are you suddenly resigning? Does Connor know?” “I’ll tell him myself.” I slid the letter across the desk. “According to my contract, I have a one-month transition period.” “I… I need to check with Connor first.” “No need.” The office door swung open. The secretary strutted in wearing high heels, clutching a report in her hand. She looked at me, a smile on her lips but contempt in her eyes. “Iris is resigning?” She slapped the report on the desk. “Is it because of this?” I looked down. It was the mixed-up test report. On the last page, a line of small print had been circled in red pen: [HIV preliminary screening: Positive.] The HR manager gasped. Outside the office, a crowd had gathered, whispering: “Ms. Bennett has HIV?” “She always acted so proper…” “I literally ate lunch with her today. Could I get infected?” I looked up at the secretary . “This isn’t my test report.” “It’s not?” She raised an eyebrow. “But it clearly has your name on it.” “The nurse made a mistake. If you don’t believe me, call the clinic.” The secretary smiled. “Then why are you resigning? Is it because you got this dirty disease and you’re too ashamed to stay? Are you quitting to go get treatment?” Connor burst into the room. He saw the report on the desk. His face turned gray. “Iris!” He pointed at me, his voice shaking. “What the hell is this?!” I said nothing. The secretary clung to his arm, her voice soft. “Connor, don’t be upset. Maybe Iris went to a dirty public bathhouse or something…” “A bathhouse?” Connor shoved her aside, his eyes bloodshot as he glared at me. “This is a dirty disease! Only people who sleep around get it!” Silence fell over the room. Everyone stared at us. I looked at Connor. This man I’d loved for ten years. The disgust and fear in his eyes were so real, so piercing. “I didn’t sleep around.” I said. “Then how did you get this disease?!” He roared. “You think I’m an idiot?!” The secretary spoke softly. “Connor, I looked it up. Iris doesn’t have symptoms yet, so it must be early-stage infection. Maybe one or two months…” Connor froze, then visibly relaxed. “One month…” He muttered. “Thank God I haven’t touched you in months…” I laughed. “So,” I looked at Connor, “you actually believe I have HIV?” “The evidence is right here!” He jabbed at the report. “You still gonna deny it?!” “Then what if I told you,” I said slowly, “that I’m pregnant?” The office erupted. “Pregnant?!” “Ms. Bennett is pregnant?!” “Then the baby…” Connor’s face went completely dark. “Bullshit!” He screamed. “How long has it been since I touched you?! Whose asshole are you carrying?!” The secretary looked stunned, but quickly recovered. “Iris, even if you want to keep Connor, you can’t make up lies like this…” “I’m not lying.” I touched my stomach. “I just found out yesterday, I am pregnant.” “That night Connor got drunk…”

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I was born bad. That’s what my family’s “psychic” black cat decided about me. Mom always said the cat could sense people’s true nature. Good hearts drew it close. Evil ones made it hiss and snarl. When Jasmine—the girl my parents took in—stole money from the house to tip male streamers on TikTok, the black cat would just roll over lazily, exposing its belly to her. But me? Even when I was just trying to feed it a small fish because it looked hungry, it would arch its back and screech at me, its claws leaving deep, bleeding gashes across my hands. At first, I tried to explain. But Mom would just shove me away: “Beasts have instincts. They don’t wrong innocent people! Maybe the pain will teach you something!” After countless scratches and insults, I started to believe it too. That I was rotten to the core. The day the hurricane made landfall, seawater flooded the streets. A heavy shelving unit collapsed and pinned my leg. I struggled, reaching out to Mom as she ran past: “Mom! Help me! My leg is trapped!” But that black cat just screeched at me like I was a demon. Mom glanced at me thrashing in the muddy water. Her eyes turned cold and vicious: “Playing victim to drag us down with you? You really are rotten to your core!” She picked up Jasmine and climbed onto the only life raft without looking back. As the icy seawater covered my nose and mouth, drowning me, I couldn’t help but think—Mom must be right. The cat was screaming, so I must not really be trapped. I must just be evil. I’m sorry, Mom. In my next life, I’ll be good.

When my soul left my body, I actually felt relief. The burning agony in my stomach and the suffocating feeling of cold water filling my lungs—both finally disappeared. I floated in mid-air, looking down at my own body. Nothing but skin and bones, crushed under a heavy metal shelving unit in the murky, muddy water. Strange. Even though I was dead, I could still “see” something at the location of my stomach—a dense mass of dark, ominous energy coiled there. So that black cat hadn’t been wrong after all. I really was bad. Rotten to the core. Even my soul carried filth. The hurricane lasted three days. On the fourth day, the water receded. I heard Mom and Jasmine coming home, laughing and chatting. “Mom, thank god you made that quick decision. We got to stay in that downtown hotel for three days and even bought the latest gaming console.” That was Jasmine’s voice, tinged with smugness. “Of course. When have I ever steered you wrong?” Mom’s tone dripped with affection. The door swung open. Seeing the mess and mud covering everything, Mom’s face instantly soured. She raised her voice, shouting into the empty house: “Aria! Where the hell are you?! Even the cat made it home before you!” A black cat gracefully stepped inside—Shadow, the “judge” who’d decided my fate. It avoided the trash on the floor and leaped lightly onto the only clean surface left: the top of a cabinet. I floated in front of Mom, my soul so weak it was nearly transparent. I opened my mouth and used every ounce of strength I had left to shout: “Mom, my stomach hurts so much. I’m right here…” Of course, she couldn’t hear me. She just waved her hand irritably, like she was swatting away an annoying mosquito. Just then, Shadow suddenly arched its back and let out a piercing shriek—directed at the spot where my body lay. Mom’s gaze immediately followed. She looked at the collapsed shelving and debris. Her face showed no concern for her missing daughter. Instead, she sneered coldly. “See? Even the cat can sense how unlucky this place is. That brat must have brought bad energy back home.” Jasmine chimed in gleefully: “Aria probably thought cleaning up was too much work and ran off again. She’s always been lazy.” Mom nodded approvingly. “Exactly. A bad seed like her has no conscience. We don’t need to worry about her.” “Starve her for a few days. She’ll crawl back on her own.” I watched them, their casual cruelty so natural. A bone-deep chill pierced my soul. Late that night, after they’d gone to sleep, I drifted back to my corpse and stared at that pale, swollen face. Memories flooded back—all those nights I’d been punished, forbidden from eating. I’d hidden in back alleys, fighting stray dogs for scraps in dumpsters. Spoiled buns. Moldy bread. Even rotten vegetable leaves covered in dirt. That’s when my stomach first started hurting—like a small knife scraping and burning inside me. I thought it was just hunger. It wasn’t. It was me. I was broken.

On the fifth day, the weather cleared. Once the sun came out, the smell inside the house became absolutely horrific. The heat and humidity accelerated decomposition. The stench mixed rotting flesh with the particular foulness of diseased organs. Mom finally couldn’t take it anymore and started cleaning the living room. She cleaned while cursing under her breath. “That damn Aria, who knows where she ran off to. Left the house looking like a garbage dump!” A small brown medicine bottle rolled across the floor and blocked her mop. It was my stomach medicine bottle. When the pain got unbearable, I’d secretly used money from collecting recyclables to buy it. Cheap stuff, but it helped a little. Mom read the label. Her face twisted with contempt. “More of her fake sick act!” She kicked the bottle away like it was trash, sending it rolling into a corner. The bottle disappeared into the mud. Gone forever. I wanted so badly to tell her: Mom, it really hurt. I wasn’t faking. But I could only watch helplessly. The putrid smell in the air grew stronger and stronger. Mom finally couldn’t hold it in. She covered her nose and gagged. “Did that slob Aria drag home garbage from the dumpsters?! Why does it stink so bad?!” She cursed while searching for the source of the smell. Jasmine emerged from her room, also covering her nose. That’s when she spotted something poking out from under the shelving through the mud. My swollen, purple fingers. Jasmine’s whole body jerked in fright, her face going deathly pale. But she quickly recovered. Calmly, she used her foot to kick a floating piece of dirty wood over, covering my hand perfectly. “Mom,” she whined, hugging Margaret’s arm, “This smell is disgusting. Let’s just go back to the hotel!” “When Aria gets back, make her scrub every inch of this floor on her knees!” Mom agreed immediately. “Good idea. Let’s go! Let her guard this garbage heap by herself!” Before leaving, Mom seemed to remember something. She went to the kitchen and locked all the crackers and bread from the cupboard into a metal box. Then she opened the fridge and dumped everything inside—all the leftovers, even half a carton of milk—straight into the trash. After finishing, she looked satisfied, like she’d gotten revenge. She dusted off her hands. “Want to sneak back and steal food? Not a chance!” I watched them throw away all that food, feeling nothing but numbness. Once upon a time, those things had been “delicacies” I’d searched dumpsters for hours to find. The door slammed shut. It didn’t just seal off that reeking space. It severed the last thread of possibility that they might ever treat me like a human being.

On the sixth day, the smell of death grew so strong that the entire building could smell it. The neighbors couldn’t stand it anymore. Someone finally called the police. Two officers knocked on our door. Mom opened it. When she saw the police, she froze for a moment, then quickly put on a pitiful expression. “Officers, what can I do for you?” “We received a report about a very strong odor coming from your home. There’s concern that something might be decomposing.” Mom’s heart jumped, but her face remained calm. She denied it flatly: “No, nothing like that. The hurricane just brought in some water. It’s a little musty, that’s all.” One officer frowned. “Is someone in your household missing?” Mom’s eyes flickered. She sighed and began her performance. “Don’t even get me started. My ungrateful daughter ran away from home.” She wiped at her completely dry eyes, her voice carrying just the right amount of grievance. “Officers, you don’t understand. My biological daughter has always been rebellious. This time she didn’t like the mess and just left without a word. She’s probably off with some boy!” “Biological daughter”—she said those words quickly, almost urgently, like she’d let something slip. I floated in the air, watching her coldly. She was lying again. But this time, she’d accidentally said something that was actually true. The officers were skeptical and tried to enter the house for an inspection. Mom blocked them desperately. “It’s such a mess inside. I can’t let you in! When she comes home, I’ll make sure to discipline her properly!” Eventually, the police left, fooled by her lies. The moment they were gone, Jasmine crept out of her room, her face full of panic. “Mom, the cat kept meowing just now. It says there’s bad energy here. What if Aria… brought something unclean home?” Jasmine’s words played right into Mom’s superstitions. She believed in this stuff completely. “You’re right!” Mom slapped her thigh. “That cursed girl must have picked up bad luck somewhere and brought it back here!” And so, a grand “purification ritual” began. Mom went out and bought loads of sage and incense, lighting them all over the house. Thick smoke instantly filled every room, choking anyone who tried to open their eyes. Jasmine “helpfully” went to my shabby closet and pulled out my only thick jacket. Dad had brought it back for me one New Year. It was cheap, from a street vendor, but I’d treasured it. Jasmine held up my jacket and said to Mom: “Mom, I read that burning her belongings will sever the dead’s attachment and scare the spirit away from coming home.” “Burn it! Burn it all!” Without hesitation, Mom threw the jacket into the burning basin. Flames licked at the fabric and quickly devoured it. Just then, Dad’s video call came through. On the screen was his impatient face. “How’s everything at home? Why is there so much smoke?” Mom was coughing from the thick smoke but forced a smile at the screen. “Everything’s fine. Just a little damp, so I’m burning some stuff.” Dad grunted, then asked casually: “Where’s Aria? Let me talk to her.” Mom glanced at Jasmine. Jasmine immediately understood, lowering her head to look hurt and innocent. Mom sighed and said into the phone: “Your wonderful daughter? She’s something else! Didn’t like the mess here, so she ran off with some guy. It’s been seven days and she hasn’t come home. Her phone’s off too!” “Forget about her! Better if she dies out there!” Dad went silent for a few seconds on the other end. Finally, he just said irritably, “Got it,” and hung up. From start to finish, he never asked another question. In the swirling smoke, I watched this couple—one lying, one indifferent. Together, they’d burned away the last trace of my existence.

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The first year I signed Marcus Thorne, he insisted on handing over all his earnings from acting for me to manage. He said I was his most trusted agent, and he felt safe with me looking after his money. But at the after-party celebrating his big award win, Marcus publicly demanded that I hand over the funds I’d managed for him over the past five years for a full audit. “After taxes, that’s at least ten to twenty million a year. After five years, there should be tens of millions left, right?” he said. “I don’t want to always be limited by the company’s cut. I’ll use my own savings to start my independent studio.” “Part of it will be seed money, and the rest will be my advance on future profits.” I froze, completely stunned. “But the money in the account isn’t even close to that amount!” Marcus’s face instantly twisted. “Ashley Clark! You blew through tens of millions?!” His new girlfriend, Sienna Reed, immediately shrieked beside him, “Where did all that money go? Did you secretly spend it all?” Marcus started yelling, demanding to see the books. I immediately motioned for my assistant, Chloe, to prepare the projection files. Sienna, however, suddenly panicked, instinctively tugging at Marcus’s sleeve.

The after-party was buzzing, filled with industry bigwigs, media, and friends. Everything was going smoothly until a director laughed and said, “That’s why Ashley’s a super agent, right? She’s managed Marcus’s career perfectly for five years. Now he’s made it big, and he doesn’t have to worry about a thing.” I was a bit confused. What exactly had I “managed perfectly” for Marcus? Before I could figure it out, Sienna suddenly leaned into Marcus, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Marcus is just humble. He always says ‘enough is enough.’ But actually, he’s already planned out his personal studio, even set aside the startup funds!” My jaw almost dropped. Many people in the room shot admiring glances our way. Marcus looked thrilled. He immediately turned to me publicly and said, “Ashley, I handed over all my income for these five years for you to manage. After expenses, there should be tens of millions left, right?” “I don’t want to always be limited by the company’s cut. I’ll use my own savings to start my independent studio.” “Part of it will be seed money, and the rest will be my advance on future profits.” I didn’t know how to respond, but he kept talking. “Whatever the company owes me by contract, just settle it normally. Ashley, don’t think I’m being too calculating. This is the fairest plan I could come up with.” My partner, David, and other friends present genuinely believed Marcus had tens of millions stashed with me. Coupled with his “clear vision,” their eyes held even more approval. David even clapped me on the shoulder. “Marcus being so strategic is a good thing!” Murmurs of agreement filled the air. “Fantastic, a powerful partnership! Marcus has a limitless future, and Ashley’s contribution is undeniable.” I couldn’t stand the fake atmosphere anymore. I set my drink down. “Are you absolutely sure you have tens of millions saved with me?” The once lively room immediately quieted. Facing everyone’s gaze, Marcus paused, then straightened his back. “Of course! My fee for one movie is millions. Over five years, that’s tens of millions. After daily expenses, asking for most of it isn’t unreasonable, is it?” I actually laughed, but it was hollow. “Are you saying… your personal expenses for five years only amounted to a fraction of that? Marcus, think carefully before you speak.” A cold dread settled in my stomach as I finally pieced together the situation. If I foolishly agreed to this money in front of so many people today, I’d never be able to deny it later. Marcus, too lazy to even think, blurted out, “Of course! I live frugally. I spend most of my time on set. How much could I possibly spend?” My face hardened. “What if I told you the money in the account isn’t even close to that amount?” “How is that possible?! Ashley, you’re not funny right now.” Marcus tried hard to maintain his composure in front of the crowd, even as the first half of his sentence almost cracked. He managed to rein in his voice for the second half. Sienna, his girlfriend, stopped smiling and looked stunned. David, sensing something was off, frowned and asked me, “Ashley, what’s going on?” I pressed my lips together, then raised my voice to ensure everyone in the room could hear me. “Marcus’s movie fees were indeed paid into the company account on time, but to maintain his image and social standing, his annual wardrobe expenses, PR fees, and team costs alone run into millions…” Even before I finished, David immediately understood. “But he said his expenses were minimal. After those fixed costs, is there enough left for him to start his own studio?” Marcus’s face instantly fell. He was losing his cool, but still tried to speak in a calm tone. “Ashley, I know some expenses might be significant, but it can’t be that insufficient. Just tell me the truth, how much money do I actually have left with you?” I shrugged. “I told you. It’s nowhere near the amount you’re asking for.” Seeing I was serious, Marcus finally snapped. He shot to his feet. “Ashley! You actually made tens of millions disappear?!” He startled me, and I stood there, bewildered. The unreasonable, furious Marcus standing before me was unrecognizable. I couldn’t believe this was the artist I’d personally brought up, the one I’d worked with day in and day out for five years. Sienna also raised her voice, suddenly shrieking, “Where did all that money go? Did you spend it all yourself?!” The people present started whispering. “We watched Marcus rise to fame. He makes so much money a year, how could it not be enough?” “Tsk, tsk, looks like artist expenses are indeed significant. We’ll have to be more careful with collaborations in the future…” “Exactly. I thought Ashley was so capable, but she can’t even manage accounts properly…” David heard the nasty comments and his face turned grim. But they all knew my character and trusted that I wasn’t reckless. David leaned in and whispered, “Ashley, clear things up now. We don’t take advantage, and we certainly won’t be taken advantage of.” Sienna, with her sharp ears, immediately shot back with a sarcastic tone, “Not taking advantage? Tens of millions are gone! You’ve made enough profit off Marcus over these five years, haven’t you? How could you possibly lose out?” David was a dignified man and wouldn’t stoop to yelling matches. His face flushed with anger. “Ashley, even between partners, accounts should be clear. You understand that, right? Don’t give anyone ammunition for gossip! Since everyone from the industry is here today, let’s settle it face-to-face!” Settle it? Of course, we would. Everyone in the room was craning their necks, eager to watch the drama unfold. How could I disappoint them? I pointed to the designer suit Marcus was wearing. “The suit you have on costs hundreds of thousands. The watch on your wrist is over a million. You have at least a dozen similar outfits in your wardrobe and safe. Were these all brand sponsorships, or did you buy them yourself?” Immediately, hushed calculations began around the room. The conclusion was whispered: “Good heavens, those outfits alone are worth over ten million!” Marcus hadn’t expected me to bring that up. His confidence wavered, and Sienna looked stunned. After a long pause, Marcus finally managed to stammer, “Some were gifted by brands, some were for work! You’re not trying to pin those on me, are you? How could you even think of that!” I was so annoyed, I laughed out loud. “When did I ever say I was going to pin them on you?” At most, it was my own misjudgment. Then my gaze shifted to Sienna. The diamond necklace around her neck was the birthday gift Marcus had “given” her this year. I knew the price: a seven-figure sum. Before today, Marcus and I had a pretty good working relationship. While he might have gotten a bit full of himself after his success and was overly image-conscious, he didn’t have any major flaws and generally treated me with respect. Especially in career planning, we were very compatible and had the same goals. He earned a lot and spent lavishly. I never imagined his generosity was because he thought all the money was his own, so he spent it without a second thought, like it was a bottomless ATM. Once the glamorous facade was torn away, our five years together turned out to be so pathetic. Just to maintain his image and reputation, I sometimes even paid for those luxury items myself. Looking back now, how foolish of me! Noticing my gaze, Sienna immediately clutched her necklace, and Marcus stepped in front of her. “That’s also my gift to Sienna! It shouldn’t be included, right?” A wave of nausea washed over me. “I know. I didn’t plan to include everything. I just want to ask you one last time: Do you still want to keep going with this audit? Do you admit that there isn’t the tens of millions you’re looking for in the account?” Marcus roared, “Yes, calculate it! Why wouldn’t we? Even if these are my expenses, it’s only a few million. Those were for work! You say there’s not enough money, so where did it go? I want to see what else you can list!” I repeated “Good” three times, then gestured for Chloe to open the projector and connect my tablet. “These are some of the invoices the company paid for you. Top-tier acting and image training courses, totaling almost five million over five years.” “Exclusive styling team, annual media relations, and crisis management fees, a fixed two million per year, which is ten million over five years.” “The extra coordination fees paid to secure your role in ‘Night Walker,’ two million.” “The cost to quell public opinion and pay compensation after your DUI incident last year, one and a half million…” Marcus ground his teeth. “Fine, those count… Even if they’re almost twenty million, my income over these years is far more than that! What about the rest?” Just then, Sienna suddenly, nervously, and with a strange expression, tugged at Marcus’s sleeve. “Marcus! Stop calculating!” Both David and I noticed her unusual behavior. Marcus looked confused. “Sienna, what are you doing? Of course we have to clear this up! How can I start my studio if we don’t? You just said…” Sienna grabbed his arm, forcing a dry laugh as she looked at everyone. “We were just a bit impulsive earlier, and maybe spoke without thinking, but it’s such a large sum of money, we were just anxious. Please don’t mind us. Let’s discuss the specific details privately. Everyone, let’s drink and celebrate Marcus’s award first!” Marcus wasn’t listening. He pushed her hand away. “Sienna! What’s there to celebrate now? According to Ashley, I not only have no money but I’m in debt! How am I supposed to start a studio? If she doesn’t clear the accounts with me today, I’m not done with her!”

“Not done with me?” I immediately announced. “Even if the accounts are cleared, our management contract ends here. I’m afraid if we continue working together, I’ll be left with nothing but bones.” Smash! The whole room fell silent. Marcus had actually hurled his champagne glass, shattering it at my feet. “Ashley! That’s enough!” His face was contorted with rage. “Did you take all my money?! Otherwise, how could tens of millions just vanish?! I truly misjudged you!” His behavior was utterly disgraceful. David and my other partner snapped out of their shock. One shielded me, the other stepped forward to confront Marcus. Marcus, seeing David approach, impulsively pushed him. Seeing this, I rushed forward without thinking. “Marcus, what are you doing!” Sienna saw me coming and tried to grab me, but David stepped in to block her. The scene instantly descended into chaos. It only got worse. People from both sides initially tried to break it up, but the pushing intensified. The room was filled with murmurs and shouts of warning. Marcus even tried to lunge at me in the commotion. Just as things spiraled completely out of control, the hotel manager burst into the ballroom with security guards. “Ladies and gentlemen! Please calm down! Or we will call the police!” With the forceful intervention of security, the two sides were finally separated. Marcus spat on the ground, pushing back his sweat-soaked hair, revealing a small cut on his forehead from the broken glass. “Ashley, I don’t think we should let it get like this. We worked together for five years, how can we just end it? Right? How about this, the contract isn’t expired yet, is it? Just pay me out the remaining money at the lowest percentage. I won’t even ask for the breach of contract fee. Let’s part ways amicably.” Part ways amicably? He just nearly threw a glass at me! Now he tells me to part ways amicably? His calculations were written all over his face! I shot back at him, “No way. Everything will be handled according to the contract.” Seeing my resolve, he dropped the act and yelled, “Fine! Ashley, you want to play hardball! Then give me what’s mine right now, or I’ll make sure everyone knows what kind of person you really are!” I clutched my arm, where I’d been pushed, and calmly replied, “I’m sending you all the relevant account statements right now. Take a good look. Not only do you not have any ‘savings,’ but your actions constitute a breach of contract, and the company will pursue legal action against you. I’ll return your words: if this isn’t settled by contract, we’ll see each other in court. If you want to clear things up, let’s do it now. If you don’t understand anything, you can ask publicly.” With that, I directly displayed the relevant document pages from my tablet. Marcus was about to look when Sienna suddenly rushed forward and smashed the tablet to the floor. Marcus stared, stunned. “Sienna, what are you doing?!” Sienna, unable to come up with an excuse, clutched her head and swayed to the side. “Oh, my head is spinning, Marcus, quick, take me to the lounge…” Marcus took Sienna and left, but not before threatening me to “just wait.” Soon, the crowd dispersed, leaving only David and me. David sighed. “Ashley, let’s start legal proceedings now. Those two aren’t going to back down.” I nodded, knowing that the real trouble was just beginning.

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Married for seven years, my doctor husband, Liam, had missed every single one of my birthdays and wedding anniversaries. The first year, his patient, Sophia, claimed she had a headache. He ditched me in Hawaii and flew back overnight. The second year, I put on some lace lingerie, hoping for an intimate night. He’d already unbuckled his belt and was tying me to the bed when Sophia’s call pulled him away again. Her reason? She couldn’t get a cab back to the hospital. After that, no matter the year, Sophia always seemed to have some trouble or another that required his attention. Finally, my heart turned to ice. I decided to file for divorce. But the day I moved out of Los Angeles, he frantically searched for me, like a madman. Today was my seventh birthday since marrying Liam. I threw a birthday party and invited all our friends. Liam promised he would definitely be there this time, as a make-up for all his past absences. But he did come, only he came with Sophia. He sat in the corner of the private room, massaging Sophia’s cramping foot, leaving me standing there awkwardly, alone. My friends shook their heads in dismay, feeling sorry for me. “Look at you, every year you hope he’ll spend your birthday with you, but does he ever truly care about you?” Everyone knew how much this day meant to me, how much I longed to truly celebrate it with him. But halfway through the party, Liam, who was supposed to be cutting the cake with me, left early again. I rushed after him, but he stopped me with a hand. “Sophia’s foot still hasn’t recovered from the cramp. I need to take her home.” “You handle the party tonight. Next time, next time I promise I won’t leave early.” With that, he forcibly pulled his hand away from mine and helped Sophia into his car. Seven years of marriage, and this was the seventh time he’d ruined my birthday because of Sophia. In the past, I would have yelled and screamed, demanding to know why he had to leave at such an important moment. But this time, I stood quietly, a gentle smile on my face. “It’s okay. Sophia’s health is certainly important.” Liam paused, seemingly surprised by my calm. “It’s best you think that way. Tomorrow, I’ll bring you a Tiramisu from your favorite place.” I hummed in agreement, watching him roll up the car window and speed away without a second glance. The moment he was gone, I dropped the smile from my lips. He forgot. I hate caffeine. I can’t stand overly sweet cakes. Tiramisu isn’t my favorite; it’s hers. He’d bought one for me once, trying to cheer me up. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, I forced myself to take a bite, almost gagging. Afterwards, I told him how much I hated coffee and anything too sweet. He’d pulled out his phone immediately, typed it into his notes, and promised he’d never forget. A year later, “never” was already over. The night wind chilled me to the bone, but my heart was already frozen solid. I scoffed, then went back inside. After announcing the party was over, I publicly tore my birthday dress to shreds. I knew this seven-year marriage should be shredded along with it. After all, the annual birthday gift my husband gave me was always the same: his blatant flirtation with another woman. By the end, my best friend, Stella Smith, stayed to comfort me. She watched me sitting dejectedly amidst the ruined party decorations and couldn’t help but speak again: “How about… you finally let go completely this time? Come back to Washington with me. There are more opportunities there. Leave this place, start fresh.” This wasn’t the first time she’d urged me to leave. I looked up, meeting Stella’s worried and indignant gaze. She was my med school roommate and my best friend, from a prominent medical family in Washington. Years ago, when I met Liam during my internship and, head over heels, followed him to Los Angeles, a city where I didn’t know a soul, only Stella vehemently objected, saying I’d regret it someday. Liam came from a small, ordinary town. He was extremely sensitive about his background and hated anyone mentioning family wealth. To spare his feelings, for seven years, I never told him about my true family situation—my parents were also professors at a prestigious medical school, and we were quite well-off. In his eyes, I was just a girl like him, who worked hard to make her way from a modest background. I always thought it wouldn’t be too late to tell him once we were established and our lives were getting better. With this mutual understanding and shared struggle, we grew from resident doctors to key members of our respective departments, winning the hospital’s annual Outstanding Physician Award for three consecutive years. We were considered the “power couple” by everyone. Our lives seemed to be steadily improving. I thought that when the right time came, he would understand everything. But that “right time” was always interrupted by Sophia’s endless “crises.” Lost in thought, I looked at the shredded fabric of my dress scattered on the floor and let out a bitter laugh. In the end, there was no need to say anything anymore. “Okay.” I heard my dry voice say. “Stella, I’ll go with you.” Stella’s eyes lit up. She practically lunged at me, grabbing my cold hands tightly: “You finally came to your senses! I’ll book the soonest flight for you. This crappy place, this crappy guy, we’re done! I’ll help you settle in back home. I’ve got you covered!”

After settling Stella, who was busy arranging my travel, I returned alone to our cold, silent apartment. The entire place was as desolate as ever. After fixing myself a quick meal, I opened Ins and saw Sophia had just posted an update. The picture showed her in a tight-fitting workout outfit, posing intimately with Liam. “Tricked Liam into coming to play basketball with me instead of celebrating Amelia’s birthday! He was a little mad, but I told him we’d go to my place for dinner later, and he cheered right up, hehe.” Seeing that message, I felt a wave of nausea. I knew he wouldn’t be coming home tonight, just like always. Luckily, I had already decided to divorce. I wouldn’t have to suffer in silence anymore. The next morning, I took my packed luggage to the hospital and formally submitted my resignation letter to Dr. Evans, the Department Head, and Human Resources. I started the handover of my work. Because I excelled in my field, Dr. Evans was still trying to persuade me to stay. As we were talking, Liam walked in with a patient’s chart. I glanced over and saw a hickey on his neck, and a perfume scent clinging to him, too strong for even hospital disinfectant to mask. It was clear he’d had a very enjoyable night. He used to hate it when I left marks on him, claiming it affected his rounds. So, even in our most passionate moments, I’d try my best to hold back, or just grip the bedsheets instead. It wasn’t that he didn’t want marks on him, it was just that they couldn’t be from me. As soon as he walked in, Dr. Evans sighed and spoke. “Perfect, you can talk some sense into your wife. She wants to resign. Did you two have a fight?” “It has nothing to do with him.” “You’re resigning?” Two voices spoke at once. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his gaze fixed on me, his lips slightly pressed. “So, you were angry yesterday because I left early, weren’t you?” Dr. Evans, seeing the tension, discreetly left, giving us space. The moment the door closed, Liam stepped forward and questioned me. “I told you Sophia’s foot cramped, that’s why I took her home. Why are you so petty?” I tried to keep my voice calm, looking up and making up a lie. “I’m not angry. I’m resigning because I’m tired and want to take a vacation and rest.” He crossed his arms, frowning in confusion. “If you want a vacation, just take your annual leave. If you suddenly resign like this, people will think you have an issue with Sophia. How can she, a patient, receive treatment with peace of mind?” He forgot. I’d already burned through all my vacation days this year, spending them on every birthday and anniversary he’d ditched. But he only worried about Sophia’s treatment. My heart ached with sadness. I turned my gaze back to the hickey on his neck, saying nothing. He noticed and subconsciously covered his neck. “This is just an allergic reaction, don’t overthink it.” I was somewhat surprised. He wasn’t arguing with me; he was explaining. But it was such a pathetic excuse. The old me might have believed it. I nodded, still silent. Liam breathed a sigh of relief, apparently thinking my anger had passed, and smiled as he put an arm around my shoulder. “That’s better, can’t you try not to be so dramatic? As doctors, sometimes we need to put the patient’s needs first.” “And don’t bother resigning. Tonight, I’ll take you to that scenic restaurant on the hill, okay? As compensation.” I still didn’t speak. He took my silence as agreement. My intention to say a proper goodbye to him was suppressed. Now, I didn’t want to tell him I was going to Washington.

“Liam!” Sophia pushed the door open without knocking. Liam immediately jumped back from me. Sophia gave an apologetic smile. “Oops, sorry to interrupt you and Amelia, but I really couldn’t help it! I’m a little confused about this prescription…” Liam, without a backward glance, walked towards her, took the patient’s chart from her hand, and patiently asked her what she didn’t understand. Sophia deliberately pressed close to him. The two of them whispered together right in front of me, forming their own little bubble. Then Sophia linked arms with Liam and walked out. The moment she closed the door, she turned back and gave me a taunting smile. Thump. The empty office was filled only with the sound of my breathing. The next second, the necklace on my wrist fell, the chain broke, and the pendant shattered on the floor. Out of nowhere. It was the gift Liam gave me on our first wedding anniversary. He’d said then that he hoped our relationship, like the necklace, would be a lifetime of completeness. I stood in silence for a long time, then, ignoring the pain of the tiny cuts, I carefully gathered the fragments. Along with the last shred of my hesitation for us, I tossed them into the trash. After firmly telling Dr. Evans my decision to resign, I returned to my clinic to hand over my remaining work. My colleague, Ashley, who was taking over, was usually quite friendly with me and seemed genuinely sad to hear the news. “Amelia, are you really leaving?” “Then I’ll have to watch those two flirting in front of me every day!” Following her gaze, I saw Liam explaining a prescription to Sophia. Sophia seemed a bit unhappy, apparently having been gently scolded by Liam. To cheer her up, Liam magically produced a Cartier bracelet from somewhere. She immediately brightened up and put it on. Then, she met my eyes and stood up, flustered. “Amelia, Liam and I aren’t really anything. This isn’t anything special!” Her words immediately drew everyone’s attention to us, their eyes darting between her and me. In seven years of marriage, Liam had never given me anything expensive, and they all, like Liam, thought I came from an ordinary family and didn’t recognize designer brands. Everyone felt sorry for me. Even Ashley, standing next to me, was indignant. “You’re his wife! They’re treating you like an absolute fool!” I gently squeezed her hand, shaking my head repeatedly, signaling her not to get into a heated argument. Then I looked back at Sophia. “That bracelet is beautiful. It suits you well.” Sophia, not seeing me get angry, continued, somewhat unwillingly. “Amelia, it’s really nothing special, don’t be mad.” I just felt confused. Mad? There was no need. I had plenty of bracelets like that, though they were all back at my home in Washington. Liam stood up upon hearing my words, frowning as he scolded me. “Amelia, don’t be so unreasonable.” I sighed, shaking my head. “I’m really not angry. You two should stop making wild guesses about me.” My tone was calm. Liam seemed surprised, then scoffed. “You better not be.” He then pulled Sophia down to sit beside him. Ashley couldn’t help but ask me. “Are you really just going to let them off the hook?” I shrugged while organizing patient records. “Yeah, because as far as I’m concerned, I’ve already decided to divorce him.” Seven birthday parties, not one complete. I was tired of it.

After work, Liam, surprisingly, came to help me pack up my things. “Let’s go. I booked the scenic restaurant on the hill for eight o’clock. We can leave now and get there just in time.” Then his eyes fell on my bare wrist. He froze, asking anxiously, “Where’s the necklace I gave you?” “I was worried about breaking it, so I took it off and left it at home.” He visibly relaxed, smiling at me. “You used to wear it every day. Why are you suddenly keeping it safe?” Before I could come up with another lie, Sophia jogged over and stopped beside us. “Liam, I’m all ready!” Liam’s gaze immediately went to her. He nodded, signaling for her to wait in the car. I watched Sophia walk directly to the passenger seat and wait. In seven years of marriage, I had never once sat in his passenger seat. He said that seat was for the most important person, and I would only get to sit there after we celebrated every anniversary together. Meeting Sophia’s challenging gaze, I looked down, offering no response. My heart no longer held any ripples of emotion. At the restaurant, Liam and Sophia sat on the same side, ordering without asking for my opinion. I happily took a back seat, propping my head on my hand and gazing out the window at the view. After all, after tomorrow, I probably wouldn’t see this city again. When the dishes arrived, Liam, for once, peeled a whole bowl of shrimp for me and placed it in front of me. “The shrimp here is good.” I looked up, meeting his somewhat gentle smile. I hadn’t expected him to consider me at a time like this. Sophia couldn’t resist taking credit. “I recommended this place to Liam! Last time we came here, he ate three whole plates!” Liam’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “Why are you telling Amelia all this…” Sophia laughed, covering her mouth, and looked at me, pretending to be embarrassed. “Oh, sorry, Amelia. Don’t let this embarrassing story ruin Liam’s image in your mind, okay?” The two of them burst into laughter again right in front of me. I looked at the bowl of shrimp and suddenly lost my appetite. Forcing myself to take one bite, almost gagging, I pushed it back. “I don’t like it. You can have it.” Their playful banter stopped. Liam asked carefully, “Are you unhappy?” I shook my head. “No, the shrimp is just too fishy. I’m not used to it.” Just like you two. Stinks to high heaven. After dinner, Liam drove the ‘drunk’ Sophia home. It was I who closed the door behind them. Watching them leave, I immediately hailed a cab to the airport. On my phone, Liam was still planning how we’d celebrate my next birthday. Perhaps he felt some guilt; he proactively said he’d make sure my next birthday was celebrated properly. “Don’t worry, this time we’ll really celebrate well. No one will disturb us!” I replied expressionlessly. “Okay.” I knew it was impossible. This birthday would be ruined by him, just like all the others. As I was about to board, he sent another message. “Sophia drank too much and has a stomach ache. I won’t be coming home tonight. Take care of yourself at home.” I scoffed, already knowing. “It’s okay. You can stay at her place. I’ve already packed my bags and left. We won’t have any relationship anymore.” “Liam, goodbye for good.” After sending him that last message, I immediately blocked and deleted him. On the plane, I watched Los Angeles, still sparkling, grow smaller beneath me. And when Liam finally got home, he would find the divorce papers I left for him.

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When I found out I was the billionaire’s illegitimate daughter, I raced over to meet my father, my heart pounding with excitement. But when I arrived at Thorne Manor, I discovered 98 other illegitimate daughters already lined up, waiting for their chance to meet him too. As it turned out, Mr. Thorne’s only son had passed away, and he was searching for an heir to his multi-billion-dollar empire. He’d gathered all his illegitimate daughters, hoping to find the strongest successor through a series of challenges. Feeling completely outmatched, I hung my head, ready to slip away quietly. Suddenly, I heard my late mother Eleanor’s voice speaking to me: “Scarlett, don’t go! I know how you can win this. Remember your arch-rival from the orphanage? Valerie? She’s one of them too! If you walk away now, that multi-billion-dollar fortune will all go to her!” I spun around, and sure enough, there was Valerie’s face staring back at me. Ten years ago, she’d locked me in that dusty, rat-infested storage room, stolen my shot at adoption, and condemned me to another decade of misery. The memory made anger burn in my chest. Alright, Mom. I’m listening. I’m not leaving. Mr. Thorne’s billions? They’re as good as mine!

My arch-rival Valerie recognized me right away: “Scarlett? Why aren’t you still stuck in that back alley? What are you doing at Mr. Thorne’s place? Don’t tell me you’re here to steal something? A street rat like you doesn’t belong here.” I clenched my fists, ready to fire back a retort. Mr. Thorne slowly descended the grand staircase, his gaze sweeping over all of us. “For years, I’ve failed as a father. I owe all of you an apology.” “So I’ve prepared $200,000 for each of you as compensation. Those who want it can register with Alfred, the butler, to collect.” The mansion erupted in excited murmurs: “Thank you, Father!” “I really needed this money! You’re the best, Dad!” Watching everyone swarm toward Alfred, Valerie scoffed from the sidelines: “A bunch of greedy fools. Do they honestly think they can compete with me for the inheritance?” After Valerie stole my adoption chance, she’d been living in luxury with a wealthy family. Two hundred grand was pocket change to her. But for me, who was used to eating stale bread every day, $200,000 could buy my freedom. Seeing me hesitate, tempted to join the money line, Mom quickly warned: “Scarlett, this is just the first test.” “Anyone who takes the $200,000 is short-sighted and gets disqualified immediately.” “Those who walk away from the money show they’ve got the ambition to compete in the real challenges.” I froze mid-step and sneaked a glance at Mr. Thorne. Sure enough, he was watching the line of daughters with a critical eye, shaking his head in disappointment. Just then, Alfred announced: “Those claiming the $200,000 must sign this inheritance waiver.” Without hesitation, I stepped out of the line. But the waiver didn’t stop most of them. Watching most of the daughters fixated on the quick $200,000 payout, eagerly signing the agreement, Mr. Thorne sighed, disappointment written across his face, and turned his gaze to the remaining few. When Mr. Thorne and I accidentally locked eyes, Mom’s voice echoed: “See? I wouldn’t lie to you.” “Just trust me and do as I say. I never got a cent from that deadbeat when I was alive, so you have to make me proud and fight for this.” The next moment, Mr. Thorne announced in a stern voice: “Twenty of you have chosen to forgo the $200,000. Please follow the guards upstairs.” Spotting me among them, Valerie looked stunned: “Scarlett, you’re an illegitimate daughter too? So we’re half-sisters?” I ignored her. Because right then, Mr. Thorne was announcing the first round challenge: “To be my heir, financial management and earning potential are essential.” “I’ll give each of you $100,000 in seed money. In one hour, the ten of you with the most remaining funds will move forward in the succession process.”

As soon as Mr. Thorne finished speaking, the other nineteen daughters pulled out their phones and jumped into action. “My mom’s an entrepreneur—I’ve been learning the ropes from her since I was a kid. I’ve got this!” “I have a PhD in finance. I know exactly how to grow this money!” They all started showing off their credentials. Some immediately opened stock trading apps. Others navigated to investment fund platforms. Some used the $100,000 as seed money to draft business proposals on the spot. Others capitalized on the moment by going live on TikTok: “I’m at the billionaire’s mansion, live from the heir selection! Follow for exclusive updates on this crazy family inheritance showdown!” But as I stared at the bank card the guard handed me, I felt completely helpless. I never even finished high school—the orphanage kicked me out to sell things on the streets to survive. These women were all educated, polished professionals. How could I possibly compete? Valerie noticed my panic and laughed mockingly: “Everyone else is hard at work, and you don’t even have a phone. You think you can compete for the inheritance?” Valerie didn’t just look down on me. She looked down on all the other illegitimate daughters too: “I graduated top of my class from business school. When it comes to making money, none of you stand a chance.” She then split her focus: buying stocks and drafting an investment proposal to present to Mr. Thorne in an hour. Mom encouraged me: “Scarlett, remember what they say: ‘Don’t fear the trust fund kids who spend money—fear the ones who think they can actually run a business.’” “Let them play their games. This round, you win by doing absolutely nothing.” “Even if you have to fake it, act like you’ve got everything under control!” She added: “You’ve been in the real world since you were a kid, facing all its hardships. When it comes to reading people, none of them can touch you.” “Now start watching your billionaire dad closely. You never know when that might come in handy.” Her words gave me new confidence. After a moment’s thought, I stepped back to a corner and began studying Mr. Thorne, trying to get a read on his personality and temperament. While the other daughters pulled out all the stops, my focus stayed solely on Mr. Thorne. My unusual calmness caught Mr. Thorne’s attention. He had Alfred come over to me: “Why aren’t you doing anything?” Following Mom’s advice, I answered without hesitation: “Protecting an empire is far harder than building one.” “With today’s economic uncertainty, I’d rather play it safe to protect the wealth you’ve worked so hard to build, Father.” No sooner had I spoken than someone screamed: “My stocks just crashed! This can’t be happening!” Another woman kicked over a chair: “Scammers! This investment firm is a total fraud—my money got converted to crypto and stolen!” “Who shut down my TikTok stream? I just paid for promotion!” In the middle of the chaos, I met Mr. Thorne’s gaze calmly. A faint glimmer appeared in his eyes, but he said nothing. An hour passed quickly. My strategy of doing nothing actually landed me in fifth place, advancing me to the next round. Mom! Thank you! I’m one step closer to that multi-billion-dollar fortune! Valerie, meanwhile, had earned $50,000 through her own efforts. Her written proposal also earned high praise from Mr. Thorne. Watching her advance in first place, the other daughters were green with envy. As we followed Alfred upstairs again, Valerie deliberately bumped into me: “Scarlett, you just got lucky. It’s not too late to quit and leave.” “Otherwise, once I become heir, I’ll make sure you regret it.” I gave her a cold stare, making a silent vow. Once I inherit those billions, she’ll pay for what she did to me as a kid! When we reached the luxurious dining room, Alfred surprisingly pulled out a chair for me: “Scarlett, please have a seat here.” I didn’t think much of it at first. But as I started toward the chair, I noticed Valerie smirking at me, like she was waiting for me to embarrass myself.

Mom immediately warned me: “Scarlett, that’s your father’s seat at the head of the table! You can’t sit there!” “They’re not actually going to eat—this is a test of dining etiquette.” My heart skipped a beat. I waved my hands at Alfred. “That’s my father’s seat at the head of the table. When will he be joining us?” Alfred gave me an approving smile. From the corner of my eye, I saw Valerie grind her teeth in frustration. I didn’t dare gloat, focusing intently on Mom’s instructions. With Mom’s help, I aced this round. When pouring wine for Mr. Thorne, my experience as a waitress let me serve without spilling a drop. During the meal, my utensils made no scraping sounds against the plate. After the meal, as Alfred led us downstairs, I noticed five fewer competitors. They’d been forced to sign inheritance waivers and left dejectedly with $200,000. Valerie jabbed my back, sneering: “Scarlett, don’t get too cocky. You’ll be out soon enough!” I wasn’t timid anymore. I shot back coldly: “Valerie, you’d better watch yourself. If I win, first thing I’ll do is lock you in that dusty, rat-infested storage room.” “Scarlett, you’re asking for it!” Valerie’s face turned red, and she raised her hand to slap me. Mr. Thorne suddenly stopped, his gaze sweeping across our faces: “Before we continue, I have a serious question for all of you.”

I immediately knew this was the next challenge. Everyone held their breath, waiting for Mr. Thorne’s question: “If my business faced a crisis that could only be fixed by marrying an infertile man in a permanent vegetative state, would you do it?” “Think carefully. This isn’t hypothetical—it’s a real possibility.” As soon as he finished, Valerie stepped forward first: “Of course I would! Any sacrifice for you, Father, is my duty!” “Of course! With my skills, I can not only save the company through marriage but use my husband’s family connections to take us to new heights!” Seeing her, others rushed to declare their loyalty: “As your daughter, Father, marriage is my duty and mission!” “A vegetative infertile man might be better—I could do IVF and the child would take my last name!” Suddenly, several daughters gathered around Mr. Thorne, creating a falsely warm scene. Mom, worried I might freeze up, reminded me: “Scarlett, don’t fall for his scare tactics. He’s testing your loyalty—just say you’re willing.” But seeing Mr. Thorne’s emotionless face and scrutinizing eyes, I hesitated. Mr. Thorne’s reaction was too strange. I stood frozen, trying to figure out the real meaning behind the question. Mom grew impatient: “Scarlett, what are you waiting for? Say you’re willing now!” “I dated your father for six months—I know him! He falls for flattery. Hurry up!” Mom was wrong. Mr. Thorne wouldn’t be that easily fooled. I remembered our previous eye contacts and his subtle expressions, my mind racing. As I stayed silent, all eyes turned to me. Mr. Thorne frowned, giving me a meaningful look: “Scarlett, is this question so hard to answer? Look at your sisters—they didn’t hesitate.” Valerie wore a smug, triumphant grin: “The country bumpkin’s never seen real life—she probably didn’t even understand the question.” Other daughters whispered, waiting for me to embarrass myself: “She showed off at dinner, but now her true colors are showing!” Mom panicked: “Scarlett, are you trying to drive me crazy? Say it now! Only by agreeing do you stand a chance at that fortune!” I took a deep breath and answered clearly: “I’m not willing.” Mr. Thorne’s expression instantly changed.

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It was three years after our breakup when Julian Kingston and I unexpectedly crossed paths again at a luxury hotel. I was working the front desk. He checked into the presidential suite, accompanied by a young and sexy woman. That night, I received three internal calls from his room. The first time, he said, “My girlfriend got the sheets dirty. Send someone to change them.” I called housekeeping to handle it. Two hours later, he called again, demanding another sheet change. I followed procedure. At 2 AM, his third call came through. Before he could even speak, I politely refused. “I apologize, sir, but housekeeping has already clocked out for the night.” The man chuckled lightly, his tone nonchalant. “Then you come change them.” I ignored him and hung up. My job is front desk. It’s not my responsibility to clean rooms. My colleague, Chloe, leaned over, asking conspiratorially. “Was that the guest from the presidential suite again?” When I nodded, Chloe covered her mouth, stifling a giggle. “He must be incredible in bed, making them change sheets three times in one night!” “So, what did he say when you told him housekeeping was off?” I told her honestly. “He told me to go up and change them.” Chloe froze, then scoffed, laughing derisively. “Just because he’s in the presidential suite, he thinks he can treat people like dirt? So disrespectful.” “He acts like the hotel is his personal home! He thinks we front desk staff are 24/7 personal servants…” Before she could finish, the phone in front of her rang abruptly. She cleared her throat and answered it. The next second, she respectfully addressed the manager. I couldn’t hear what was said on the other end. Chloe’s eyes suddenly widened, and she looked at me. “Did you say to send Aubrey Reid to the presidential suite to change the sheets right now?” Fifteen minutes later, I stood outside the presidential suite, grimacing as I pressed the doorbell. Julian, wearing nothing but a bath robe, answered the door. He had an incredible physique, ripped abs, and water still trickled down his collarbone. Seeing me, he stepped aside to let me in. The hem of his robe swayed with his movement, almost revealing too much. The faint sound of rushing water came from the bathroom. He led me to the bedroom. Then he casually sat down on a nearby sofa. With an air of calm, he took out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and lit it. I silently pulled back the duvet. The wet stain on the sheets unexpectedly caught my eye. It felt like I’d been punched in the chest. My heart ached dully. He exhaled a smoke ring, his voice laced with the languid contentment of a man utterly satisfied. “My girlfriend gets so wet every time; the sheets are completely soaked. There’s no way we can sleep on them without changing them.” “Please hurry. She’s a bit tired.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “Five minutes.” I efficiently stripped the dirty sheets and quickly put on fresh ones. Once I was done, I gathered the soiled sheets and turned to leave. But then, he suddenly closed in, pressing me tightly against the edge of the bed, leaving me nowhere to go. He leaned in further, and I stumbled backward, falling onto the bed. The next second, he had me firmly pinned beneath him. His powerful forearms braced on either side of my head, and his knee pushed my legs apart, pinning them so I couldn’t even close them. His bath robe had completely parted, his ripped abs pressing taut against my lower stomach, the scorching heat of his skin radiating through the thin fabric. The water in the bathroom still hadn’t stopped. I clenched my fists, trying to push off the bed to stand up. But the power imbalance was too great; I couldn’t move him an inch. I frowned, pushing against his chest, my voice a low whisper. “Your girlfriend will get the wrong idea, let me up.” His eyes turned cold. He suddenly grabbed my resisting wrists, twisting them behind my head. His other hand slowly slid under my top, his calloused thumb tracing a path along my waistline, sending shivers through me. “All these years, I still don’t understand.” “Why, of all people, did you cheat on me with him?”

The sound of water in the bathroom abruptly stopped. But he remained utterly unmoved. In a panic, I bit down hard on his arm. He grunted, wincing, and his grip loosened slightly. I took the chance to push him away, clutching the sheets as I fled the room. As the door closed, the woman’s soft, languid voice faintly drifted out. “Oh, stop it. If you make them change the sheets again, I’ll be too embarrassed to show my face tomorrow.” I couldn’t quite make out his answer. Walking down the silent corridor, my wildly pounding heart slowly began to calm. It wasn’t that I hadn’t imagined what it would be like to see him again someday. But I never expected that after three years, he would hate me this much. Better if we’d never met again in this lifetime. Back at the front desk, Chloe leaned over to gossip with me. “Do you know who that guest in the presidential suite is?” It was late, and I was tired; I didn’t feel like engaging. But she grew more excited. “I just looked him up online! He’s actually the heir to the incredibly wealthy Kingston family in New York!” I said flatly, “Snooping on guest information, that’s against the rules.” “I was just curious!” She continued to share. “Everyone online is still talking about their billion-dollar inheritance battle from three years ago!” “This Mr. Kingston suddenly fell gravely ill at a critical moment and almost lost his inheritance rights.” “And his first love, seeing him so ill, actually cheated on him at his lowest point.” “Oh, I haven’t even told you the craziest part yet. Do you know who she cheated on him with?” Chloe’s chatter buzzed in my ears. “Yeah, I know.” She raised her voice slightly. “You know? You saw the news too?” I slowly turned my head, calmly looking at her astonished expression. “I don’t need to see the news.” “I was his cheating ex-girlfriend.” The expression on her face instantly froze, and it took her a long moment to process. “OMG.” Meeting Julian was an unusual accident in my life. I saw something wrong and kicked a pervert right in the groin. I dragged the pervert to the police station, and Julian followed me the whole way, thoroughly amused. He waited outside the precinct for me, then got my contact info. And that’s how we started. The day he confessed his feelings to me. I asked him why he liked me. He just smiled without speaking, then after a moment, he took my hand and said, “I was captivated by the way you kicked that guy in the groin.” Fine, sometimes I didn’t understand his taste. But I liked him just the same.

He always loved to tease me. We were together for a long time. He bought an apartment near campus. We lived the loving life of an ordinary couple. My parents divorced when I was young, so I grew up living with my grandmother. Once, while I was on a FaceTime call with her, he overheard her mention that her teeth were falling out and it was getting hard to eat. The very next day, he took my grandma to have a full set of new teeth fitted. Later, I brought up the cost awkwardly. A full set of teeth was over $200,000. He signed the bill without a second thought, but I had no idea how I could ever repay him. He saw through my hesitant expression. “Don’t worry about the cost. I’ll take care of it.” I cautiously said to him, “What if we break up later? You wouldn’t ask for the money back for her teeth if we broke up, right?” He burst out laughing. Back then, I only knew he was rich, but not how rich. It wasn’t until I muttered to him one day about my scholarship not being disbursed yet. Coincidentally, from that day onward, the Kingston Group scholarship process at school was streamlined and began to be announced and disbursed on the same day. That is how I learned he was a son of New York’s Kingstons. Later, his father died. The Kingston family’s inheritance battle was a sensation. Besides Julian, his father had several illegitimate children scattered around. At the peak of the inheritance dispute, Julian was suddenly hospitalized. The diagnosis was acute kidney failure. He stayed in the ICU for over ten days. After two rounds of dialysis, his kidney function still hadn’t recovered. The doctors, with no other options, suggested a kidney transplant. But we waited and waited, but no suitable donor could be found. I even went to each of his half-siblings, begging. But not a single one was willing to be tested for a match. And who would agree to be a match? Without Julian, they’d get a bigger piece of the pie. They were practically praying for him to die; why would they step in to save him? During that time, I felt lost in a fog, unable to find a way out. Julian seemed to have a premonition. He had his lawyer transfer all his assets to me. He lay in the hospital bed, his pale hand gently stroking my face. Patiently, he wiped away my endless tears. He said meeting me in this lifetime meant he had no regrets. But to everyone’s utter shock… No sooner had I accepted his gift than I threw myself into another man’s arms. I chose not to stay with Julian through his final days. I betrayed Julian, eagerly pledging allegiance to another. And that man was his father’s most favored illegitimate son.

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My boyfriend is stunningly handsome, successful, and rich. After three years together, I decided it was finally time to bring him home for the holidays to meet my parents. But the moment I posted a photo of Liam and me in our family group chat, it exploded! “Chloe, I get that you might be desperate, but you can’t just date anyone who’s breathing!” “Are you trying to skip those blind dates by bringing home some random guy just to upset Mom?” I stared blankly at Liam beside me. He’s over six feet tall, with chiseled abs, wearing a custom Armani suit. But the next second, Dad sent back the photo I’d just posted with a message. “Chloe, are you blind? You picked such a short, ugly loser for a boyfriend?” I looked at the man in the photo. He looked old, balding, with a beer belly, and barely five feet tall. He was wearing shabby clothes and holding me in a creepy way. But the photo wasn’t AI-generated, and there were no signs of editing. I looked up at Liam again, still standing there like a Greek statue. I kept asking people around me, but everyone described Liam as short, poor, and ugly. I could not handle the shock. I slowly began to lose my mind. Eventually, I was sent to a mental hospital and accidentally killed by another patient. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I was about to introduce my boyfriend publicly.

My parents always played favorites with my sister Lily, and I suspected they wanted me to ditch Liam for her. This time, I didn’t send a photo of us together to the family group. Instead, I sent only Liam’s picture and told a little lie. “This is my best friend Ashley’s new boyfriend. What do you guys think of him?” But to my shock, their replies were exactly the same. “How could Ashley date such a loser? Is she going through something lately?” “Chloe, as her best friend, you need to talk some sense into her. Don’t let her just date anyone.” “Chloe, you need to tell Ashley to break up with him! He’s clearly punching above his weight!” I was stunned. If last time they were just messing with me because they knew Liam was my boyfriend… This time, they had no reason to trick me about Ashley. Just as I was lost in thought, Mom’s message popped up. “Didn’t you say you found a boyfriend? The holidays are coming. Bring him home.” Dad chimed in. “Exactly! It’s time our family of four became five. You’re not getting any younger, after all.” “Chloe, when are you bringing Liam home? Don’t you dare end up like Ashley.” My hand, holding the phone, started sweating cold. I couldn’t imagine the expressions on their faces if I actually brought Liam home. Liam’s tall frame enveloped me from behind as he buried his face in the crook of my neck, his tone a playful pout. “Chloe, what did your family say? Are you taking me home to meet your parents for the holidays?” I looked at his handsome profile, sunlight shining on him like he was an angel descended from heaven. How could he possibly be the short, poor, and ugly guy my family was describing? That height difference… that chiseled, sculptural face… the luxurious fabric of his clothes… Every detail reminded me that Liam was the living definition of a ‘dream guy.’ This time, I was cautious and didn’t agree right away. “Of course, I’ll take you to meet my parents. But before that, can you do me a small favor?” He chuckled softly and kissed my forehead. “Anything, baby. You name it.” An idea sparked in my mind. “Liam, would you mind taking a few photos with Ashley at the park later?” Liam’s face instantly fell, looking hurt. “Chloe, are you trying to set your man up with someone else?” I quickly reassured him, lying that I’d lost a dare, and it was just a request from Ashley. “Just three photos in the park, then you’re free to go. No touching or anything.” Liam looked at my pleading face and finally softened. “Just this once.” I sighed in relief and called Ashley. “Ashley, are you free? I just need you to take three photos with my boyfriend at the park.” But I didn’t expect her to refuse so vehemently. “Are you serious? You want me to take pictures with your short, ugly loser boyfriend? You’d be better off killing me!” It was one thing for my family to fool me, but why was Ashley saying the same thing? Ashley had seen Liam many times before. Why was she suddenly calling him short, poor, and ugly now? “Chloe, I wanted to tell you to break up three years ago. But you were so deeply in love, I was afraid you’d do something stupid, so I kept quiet.” “You’re such a love-struck fool. How can you treat that kind of trash like a treasure? The smell of him makes me want to puke, how have you endured it for three years?” My heart leaped. Could it really be that love was blind for me? Even what she called his ‘old man smell’ seemed like a pleasant fragrance to me, actually quite nice…

I still didn’t believe it. I took a deep breath and decided to bribe Ashley. “If you agree this time, I’ll get you the new LV bag that just came out.” “Deal. But don’t ask me again.” After Ashley hung up, the more I thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. Even with a beauty filter, the difference couldn’t be this drastic. Three days later, the photos Ashley sent me shattered my illusions. The man in the photo was the exact same one my dad had sent me in the previous life, the one I was supposedly hugging. I looked at the photos on my phone – they were perfectly natural, no signs of alteration. Just then, Liam came home. I rushed to him. “Liam, did you keep any of the photos from today?” “Of course, I did. Wouldn’t want you nagging me about it.” He handed me his phone. In his photos, he and Ashley stood together, looking like absolute gods. How could this be… Where did it go wrong? I took his phone to the balcony, comparing the two sets of photos repeatedly. Same park, same time, same poses, only the people were different. The other two photos were the same. Liam came to the balcony, wrapped his arms around me, and complained playfully. “Baby, I did what you asked, why do you still look upset?” His scent was still so fresh and clean, like orange soda, utterly captivating. But the thought that the man holding me now could be that man in the photos made my skin crawl. “No… no way. I… I was just jealous, that’s why I looked upset.” Liam instantly perked up at my words. “Then since I completed your mission, you have to give me a kiss.” I looked at his angelic face, about to lean in, but the image of the man in the photos instantly killed my appetite. I gently pushed him away, giving a nervous, guilty smile. “A kiss? That’s nothing! I’ll cook you dinner tonight as a reward.” Liam didn’t notice my odd behavior. He just kissed my cheek and said, “Okay!” I went to the kitchen and sent the photo to the family SnapChat group, along with a message. “Is the man you saw last time the same one in this photo?” Replies quickly poured in. “Why hasn’t Ashley broken up with that guy yet? They’re completely mismatched! Ashley is 5’5″, even in heels, she’d be taller than him!” “Chloe, has your best friend been brainwashed by this man? What does he even have going for him?” “Chloe, look at his clothes, they smell like an old man’s. He’s probably wearing his dad’s hand-me-downs!” As if I wouldn’t believe them, Dad sent a separate photo of the man into the group. “See? This is the same guy you posted in the group last time, isn’t it?” I carefully examined the single photo – still the same time, same background, same pose, but a different person. Why were the photos I took so different from what they saw? Liam, who hadn’t seen me come out yet, knocked on the kitchen door. “Chloe, why are you zoning out in the kitchen? How about I cook instead?” “No, no, it’ll be ready in a minute. Just wait at the dining table.” I quickly finished two dishes and carried them out. But as Liam sat down, I glimpsed the butterfly birthmark on his neck. It was Liam’s unique mark. I immediately pulled out Ashley’s photos and the family group photos to compare. My jaw dropped. The birthmark on that man’s neck in the photos was identical to Liam’s…

I picked at my food, my mind a mess. Looking at Liam beside me, I cautiously spoke. “Liam… there’s something I need to ask, but please don’t get angry.” Liam turned to me, smiling gently. “Okay, I won’t be angry, no matter what you ask.” “Has anyone ever told you what you look like?” He was silent for a moment. My heart sank. Had I accidentally brought up a sore spot? Did everyone think he was ugly? The next moment, he chuckled, taking my hand and guiding it to his face. “Everyone has always told me I’m handsome since I was a kid. I was voted Campus King every single year since junior high.” He seemed to worry I wouldn’t believe him, so he pulled out his phone to show me pictures from his college days. For four whole years, Liam’s photos were displayed on the ‘Hottest Guys’ wall, and he consistently ranked number one by a landslide. Seeing my bewildered expression, Liam flicked my forehead playfully. “What? Can’t stand that your boyfriend is just naturally this gorgeous?” “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours. You didn’t doubt me when we first started dating, but now that we’re about to meet your parents, you’re getting suspicious? Are you looking for an excuse to break up with me?” Liam feigned a serious look, and I could only push my doubts down. During dinner, I was distracted, constantly glancing at Liam, trying to find anything unusual. But I came up empty-handed. It wasn’t until we were in bed that my mind started racing again. Watching Liam sleep beside me, an idea formed. If love was blind, how did that explain the height difference? Why did everyone else see him as barely five feet tall, while I saw him as over six feet? I carefully slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Liam. I walked to the entrance and checked all of Liam’s shoes – no insoles. Still not satisfied, I pulled a tape measure from the drawer and crept back onto the bed to measure his height. If six feet was just my visual perception, a tape measure would be accurate, right? But Liam kept turning over precisely when I was trying to measure him, preventing me from succeeding. I retracted the tape measure and then stared at his stomach. The man in the photos had a beer belly, but Liam had eight-pack abs. Were his abs fake? Was he wearing something under his shirt? I’d seen videos about guys faking abs, and my hand slowly reached towards his stomach. Just as I was about to confirm, he caught my hand. Liam opened his eyes, a playful smirk on his face. “Honey, are you feeling a little restless tonight? Looking for some action?” Cold sweat instantly dripped down my back. Thankfully, he didn’t notice I’d been trying to measure his height. “No, I was just worried your stomach might get cold… It’s late, let’s just go to sleep.” I quickly lay back down, pretending to be asleep. But Liam rolled onto me, his warm lips claiming mine. “Baby, you’ve definitely stirred something up, and it’s not going away easily.” I didn’t find out anything all night, but Liam definitely wore me out. What a waste of an investigation! The next morning, Liam looked utterly satisfied as he gazed at me, still sprawled exhaustedly on the bed. “Baby, when are you going to take me to meet your parents?” “You’re so adorable, I’m almost tempted to just lock you up and keep you all to myself.” Liam’s reminder made me quickly pull out my phone. The date I’d promised to bring Liam home was tomorrow.

I thought about how good Liam had been to me for three years-gentle, meticulous, attentive, and generous. Even if he was short and clumsy, I’d accept it. But he couldn’t be poor… And in these three years, he had spent at least a million on me. That couldn’t be fake. “Tomorrow, then. Happy?” Liam’s eyes sparkled with joy, and he kissed me. “Why didn’t you say so sooner? Now I don’t have time to prepare gifts for your parents.” “Chloe, don’t sleep in. Get up quickly and take me to pick out their gifts.” I gave him an unamused look, not bothering to point out who had worn me out so badly last night. Liam pretended not to notice, pulling out a custom-tailored suit from his closet and looking at me. “Chloe, can I wear this to meet your parents tomorrow?” I felt a pang of déjà vu. Last time, my parents had looked at him with disgust and disdain when he wore this. They’d almost physically attacked him. But to me, Liam was a walking clothes hanger; everything looked good on him. Especially this custom suit, which perfectly showcased his flawless physique. After getting everything ready, Liam called to reserve the entire luxury mall and drove me there in his Maybach. The sales associate at the jewelry store bowed respectfully to Liam. “Sir, how may I help you?” “I need nearly a hundred pounds of gold bars, and please pick out the most exquisite gold rings and earrings for my parents.” The sales associate’s face lit up with an irrepressible smile. I couldn’t help but look at him. “This is so expensive, won’t it be too much?” “They’re my future in-laws, how can it be too much? What’s mine is yours, honey.” Liam also picked out a Patek Philippe watch for my dad and bought Lily the entire new collection from LV. I figured he couldn’t possibly be poor. I took photos of all the gifts he bought and sent them to Ashley. But I received a skeptical reply from her. “Chloe, be careful! This could be a romance scam! A lot of guys who look respectable on the surface lure you in by taking out huge loans, then stick you with massive debt, claiming it was all for you.” “These guys work with shady loan agencies, earning huge interest fees.” I didn’t believe her. I sent her photos of Liam’s luxury car and mansion. “Those can all be rented! Don’t be so naive and believe everything.” My cheerful mood instantly died down. The next day, I brought Liam home with a mix of excitement and anxiety. My family’s expressions shifted from blatant shock and disdain to forced, strained smiles. Dad accepted Liam’s gifts. “So this is Chloe’s boyfriend? You shouldn’t have bought so much and gone to all this trouble. Come, sit down and eat.” Mom, meanwhile, dragged me aside. “So, all this time, the ‘best friend’s boyfriend’ you mentioned was actually yours? Were you too embarrassed to admit it?” Lily even went so far as to dramatically cover her nose, staying as far from Liam as if he were a monster. Dinner passed in stiff silence. It wasn’t until Liam and I were on our way out that I caught the three of them flashing a synchronized “V” sign behind our backs. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but I hadn’t expected the group chat to explode the moment we got home. “Chloe, look at what he brought! Fake gold bars, a knock-off watch, a replica bag! Is he trying to make fools of us? All of it put together isn’t even worth a thousand! How can he be so shameless?” “Your dad and I are telling you right now: if you don’t break up with him, we’re cutting you off.” “Chloe, you can’t imagine how bad he smelled at dinner. It made me want to vomit.” But I just scoffed, nestling into Liam’s arms, and sent a reply. “Cut the act. I know exactly why you’re all calling Liam some short, penniless nobody!”

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Julian Blackwood’s mistress set him a monthly KPI: at least 10 sexual encounters. This month, he was too busy and only managed 9. His mistress responded by going on a one-day hunger strike. To appease her, Julian actually begged me to comfort Tiffany: “Aria, please go explain to Tiffany. Tell her I haven’t touched you all year. Don’t let her be jealous or upset.” My eyes widened. Julian and I hadn’t been intimate in three years, but his request was beyond ridiculous. I agreed to help him, but scoffed, “You should really see a doctor. If you can’t even manage 10 times a month, what kind of mistress would want you?!” I called Tiffany’s phone, my voice calm: “Julian has belonged to you for a long time, and he’ll only belong to you from now on.” After I hung up, Julian tried to soothe me: “You’re always in my heart too, Aria.” But I didn’t care anymore. We’d been separated for almost two years and would soon finalize our divorce. However, Tiffany wasn’t pleased by my explanation. She didn’t believe Julian hadn’t been with me! So, Julian came back to me, looking dejected, asking for help again. I asked him directly: “Julian, what exactly do you want me to do?” “How about you go to the hospital for a vaginal exam? The doctor can prove you haven’t been intimate in a long time. Don’t worry, I’ll arrange for a female doctor.” He paused, then continued, “Tiffany’s got a one-track mind; she won’t believe it unless you do this. Just bear with her.” A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, and I recoiled instinctively, putting as much distance between us as possible. Even though I’d long since given up on him, hearing him make such a request for his mistress still sent a chill through me. He completely disregarded my feelings, pressing on: “Just think of it as a regular check-up.” The disgust in my chest intensified. I clutched my chest and sneered at him, “Julian, let’s just get divorced already!” I exploded at him. Knowing he was in the wrong, he didn’t push it further, his tone softening as he tried to placate me: “Don’t be angry! You’re always the most important person to me. Just calm down for a bit.” He always said that. He’d say I was the most important, then climb into his mistress’s bed again and again. He just presumed his money and power meant I’d put up with anything! After all, I’d fought my way through a lineup of his admirers to become Mrs. Blackwood. What Cinderella, once she’s in the castle, would ever want to leave? He didn’t know that this Cinderella had already saved enough to be financially independent. Julian’s phone rang again. He answered it. I heard Tiffany crying hysterically: “Julian! I became your mistress at 18. You promised me you’d be with me 10 times a month and never touch your wife! You’re a liar! I’m breaking up with you!” Tiffany Reed was the most spoiled and demanding of all the mistresses he’d ever kept. But Julian doted on her the most. Even a year ago, when his mother passed away unexpectedly, Julian left the funeral early on the very day to be with Tiffany. He left me to manage the funeral alone. In the middle of the night, during the funeral, Tiffany sent me taunting photos. They were all of her and Julian in various explicit poses in bed. From that day on, I knew Julian wasn’t just having a physical affair; he was truly in love! He loved her so much that he was willing to trample all over my dignity.

“Tiffany! You won’t believe anything I say, fine! Tomorrow, I’ll have a doctor examine her! Then you’ll believe me!” Julian’s voice on the phone snapped me back to reality. I never imagined that after my clear refusal, he would actually agree to such a thing just to placate Tiffany! The next morning, Tiffany arrived with a male doctor. Julian was stunned. He told her, “No male doctors, it has to be a female doctor!” His face hardened, a flicker of jealousy in his eyes. He might be cheating himself, but he still kept a tight leash on me. If I spoke to another man for more than two sentences, he’d go ballistic with jealousy. Tiffany scowled: “What’s the difference between a male and female doctor? It’s just a quick check-up anyway!” Julian coaxed her, “Let’s just get a female doctor instead.” Tiffany reluctantly agreed. I walked silently to Tiffany, then slapped her across the face. “Who the hell do you think you are?! You’re just a mistress! What right do you have to interfere with my and Julian’s bedroom affairs!” Just to spite her, I even deliberately added: “The only reason Julian didn’t hit your monthly KPI is because he spent 17 nights with me this month, and he was too exhausted!” Seventeen times! That colossal number was like a bombshell to Tiffany. She instantly broke down, tears streaming down her face, and screamed at Julian: “You still won’t admit it! She just admitted it!” Julian was furious with me. He scolded, “What are you talking about?! Aren’t things messy enough already?!” Tiffany, clutching her stinging face, ran off in a rage. Julian immediately chased after her to explain. The ironic thing was that as he ran after Tiffany, he ordered his butler: “Give Mrs. Blackwood her medication!” Ever since his affair started, I’d developed panic attacks, unable to be touched by him. The moment he touched me, I’d feel sick and suffocated. Twice, I even had to be rushed to the emergency room. For years, he’d spent a fortune on various medications to “cure” me. He’d often reassure me, “I’ll make you better. Once you’re well, we’ll have a child.” What he didn’t know was that I’d poured all those medicines down the drain. I hadn’t taken a single dose. I counted down the days, yearning for the day I could leave. On my way to apply for an overseas visa, Julian’s people suddenly intercepted me. I was confined to the mansion, then forced onto a cold, hard examination table. Five female doctors roughly restrained my arms and legs. As I struggled frantically, one of the female doctors’ video calls rang. The next second, Tiffany’s voice came through. “Make sure you examine her thoroughly! Miss Reed, we’re professionals in this field.” I roared with uncontrollable rage, “Tiffany, I’ll kill you!” “Julian, I’ll make you pay for this!” I knew he had to be with Tiffany. Sure enough, his voice came through the phone: “Aria, Tiffany’s pregnant. I’m 35, don’t make things difficult for me, okay?” His meaning was clear: he wanted me to cooperate with the examination. He had wanted to be a father since he was 25. We once had a child too, but Julian had fertility issues, making it difficult for me to conceive. He took a lot of medication and underwent treatment for several years before I finally got pregnant. That time of nurturing a new life was the happiest period Julian and I ever shared. But just as I was nine months pregnant and about to give birth, Julian fell for Tiffany at first sight. Tiffany was young, beautiful, and vibrant. He completely fell for her after just one motorcycle ride. That day, Tiffany posted a photo of the two of them on a motorcycle online. It caused a stir, with countless netizens praising them as a perfect, made-for-each-other couple. I stumbled upon the video three days later. The shock triggered a difficult labor, and I lost our child. The loss of our child didn’t make Julian change his ways. He cried and promised me, “It was just an accident, we’ll have another child.” Julian didn’t know that from that moment on, I had completely given up on him.

Now he had another child, and he’d undoubtedly do everything to keep it! He knew that child loss was my deepest wound, yet here he was, asking me to endure such humiliation for him and Tiffany’s baby. I screamed at him, enraged: “Julian, you heartless monster! If you dare let them touch me today, I’ll hate you for the rest of my life!” Tiffany impatiently mumbled, “Hurry up and finish the exam!” Julian also lost patience and directly ordered the female doctors: “Give Mrs. Blackwood a light anesthetic injection.” He paused, then tried to calm me, “It’ll only be for a moment, it won’t harm you.” I continued to struggle desperately, watching as the female doctors approached with long, thin examination tools, preparing to remove my clothes. A wave of terror washed over me. Another female doctor injected a thin, long anesthetic needle into my arm. I couldn’t struggle anymore and quickly fell unconscious. Sometime later, I vaguely heard that Tiffany’s call was still connected. The female doctor was still examining me. Her phone was placed near my ear, broadcasting muffled sounds. Julian’s voice was controlled and strained: “You’re pregnant, you can’t be intimate. After the baby is born, I’ll make it up to you.” “No, I won’t let you be deprived. Just be gentle, even if I’m pregnant, 10 times a month can’t be skipped.” Her coquettish voice made me intensely uncomfortable. Suddenly, she deliberately asked, “You always say you love me, so why haven’t you divorced your wife yet?!” I also really wanted to know the answer to that, and I couldn’t help but strain my ears. Julian’s voice remained unchanged: “Are you stupid? Divorce means splitting half my assets. I haven’t touched her in years, it’s practically the same as being divorced. Remember, I’m a businessman, everything I do requires weighing pros and cons.” He really knew how to manipulate young, naive women. He claimed he couldn’t afford to divorce me because of the money, but in reality, all the money he earned had been transferred to my personal account. It was even legally notarized as solely my property. I had previously, out of spite for his affair, deliberately leaked confidential business secrets of Blackwood Corp to his competitors. This caused Blackwood Corp to suffer losses in the hundreds of millions, pushing the company to the brink of bankruptcy. Even after I pushed him so hard for a divorce, he refused. He didn’t even scold me, instead trying to calm me down. I finally saw through him completely. He genuinely loved me, and he genuinely loved Tiffany. He didn’t want to lose either of us. He was greedy; he wanted one woman at home and another outside. The doctor finished the examination, took the phone from my ear, and reported: “Miss Reed, we’ve completed the examination. Mrs. Blackwood has not only not been intimate recently, but she hasn’t had any intimate activity for at least a year.” Tiffany, having received the satisfactory answer, sounded a few shades lighter: “Thank you for your hard work, here’s your payment.” They packed up their things and left. As the anesthetic wore off, a dense, throbbing pain spread below. The air was thick with the smell of blood. I tried to shift my body, and a violent surge of agony struck me. Below, and on my backside, there was sticky blood everywhere. This wasn’t any scientific examination; it was torture. An overwhelming hatred engulfed me, and within minutes, I was covered in a cold sweat from the pain. In that moment, an earth-shattering idea flashed through my mind! After several hours of pain, I finally managed to stand. Dragging my broken body, I set fire to “Cinderella’s Castle,” the mansion Julian had spent a billion dollars to buy for me.

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Everyone knew I loved Kevin to the point of self-abasement. For ten years, I swallowed every insult, shielded him from every scandal, even gave my own blood, all for him. They called me the biggest joke in high society, the woman who shamelessly clawed her way into an engagement. Kevin thought so too. Until the day of our wedding, when I smiled, slipped on the ring, and leaped from the cliff. This wedding was never about love. It was because the System told me: “Marry Kevin, and you can bring your true love back to life.” Jennifer POV Late at night, the piercing ring of the phone echoed through the apartment. I jolted awake. On the other end, Kevin’s friend shouted, his voice laced with panic. “Jennifer! Kevin’s in trouble, he’s at Downtown General!” I was there in under fifteen minutes. Outside the hospital room, Kevin’s friends were laughing and joking, their voices jarringly loud. “Kevin’s such a madman! Wing-suiting just to get Sarah’s souvenir back, and he broke his leg!” “Seriously! All for a dare! I bet Jennifer, his little shadow, is already on her way. Her nose is sharper than a bloodhound’s.” “You can’t even get rid of her. Kevin says even if he beat her with a golf club, she’d crawl back, crying.” The words seeped into my ears, but my face remained expressionless. From inside the room, I heard Kevin’s scoff, his tone dismissive and utterly confident. “She loves me too much; she’d be lost without me.” I lowered my gaze, then pushed the door open. Silence fell for a moment inside, then burst into a chorus of laughter. “Kevin’s little pet has arrived!” “Jennifer, you’re quick! We thought you’d need to cry in the car for a while.” Kevin lay on the hospital bed, his left leg in a cast. His handsome face was pale, and his eyes, when they met mine, were arrogant and icy. He didn’t speak, just lifted his chin, signaling his cronies to continue. A man stepped forward, scrutinizing me playfully. “Jennifer, Kevin got hurt because of you. He’s not happy. Shouldn’t you do something to make it up to him?” “Yeah! Do something! Do something!” The jeers grew louder. Someone pointed out the window, making a cruel suggestion. “You said you’d die for Kevin, didn’t you? If you’re so brave, blindfold yourself and walk across to that scaffolding on the building next door.” I followed his gaze. Between the two towering buildings, a narrow, temporary steel plank bridge had been erected for construction. The night wind howled, making the plank sway precariously a hundred feet up, looking fragile and deadly. The sheer malice of their request sent a chill through me. “What, too scared?” I was about to refuse when Kevin finally spoke. Leaning against the headboard, he used my decade of devotion as a weapon, each word a cruel blow. “Jennifer, you said you loved me, that you’d die for me. Didn’t you?” My heart plummeted. Our wedding was in a month. For this wedding, I had endured for ten years. I couldn’t let everything fall apart at the last minute. Under their eager gazes, I nodded softly. “Okay.” Kevin’s friends erupted in excited whistles. Someone immediately produced a black silk ribbon and roughly tied it over my eyes. Darkness enveloped me. The humiliation nearly choked me. I was pushed onto the windowsill, my trembling toes reaching for the cold steel plank. Below, Manhattan’s lights twinkled, a dizzying abyss. Around me, mocking laughter and the click of phone cameras. I took a deep breath, stepping onto the plank, inching forward. The wind picked up, violently shaking my slender body in the air. Halfway across, just as I felt I was about to be blown off, Kevin’s furious roar stopped me. “Crazy woman! Get back here!” My movements froze. “What are you waiting for? Planning to fall and die there, polluting my view?” Kevin’s voice dripped with impatience. He commanded imperiously, “Go to the Upper East Side. Line up and buy me those limited-edition croissant donuts from that place! Don’t come back without them.” I felt like a prisoner granted clemency, scrambling back in a hurry. I pulled off the blindfold. The others looked disappointed, while Kevin turned his face away, refusing to meet my gaze. I said nothing, just turned and left. The trendy dessert spot had a long line. I waited for three agonizing hours before finally securing the daily limited-edition treat. When I returned to the hospital, the room was empty except for Kevin. He was asleep, brows furrowed, as if in the throes of a nightmare. I placed the dessert on the nightstand, about to leave, when I heard his mumbled dream talk. I instinctively leaned closer. “Sarah… don’t leave…” He whispered, his voice laced with a vulnerability and plea I’d never heard from him. “Just turn around, and I won’t get married, Sarah…” The words were a blade that sliced through my heart. My body froze, blood draining from my face. Ten years. I’d chased this man for ten years, from a naive girl to the laughingstock of high society. I’d sacrificed every shred of dignity for a wedding a month away. Yet, in his heart, the wedding I’d earned with ten years of blood and tears meant less than a single glance from Sarah. Despair choked me. Just as I felt the pain crush me, a cold, mechanical voice resonated in my mind. “Host emotional fluctuation abnormal. Warning.” “Task progress: 99%.” “Task objective: Marry Kevin.” “Task reward: Revive William.” “Host, please stabilize emotions and complete the final 1% of the task.” The voice was like a bucket of cold water, pulling me back from the brink of collapse. I slowly closed my eyes, memories flooding my mind. Ten years ago, I didn’t belong in this world. My childhood sweetheart and fiancé, William, and I were about to get engaged. But in an accident, William saved me and fell into a deep coma, becoming a vegetable. Doctors said his chances of waking were slim. In my despair, the voice of the System appeared. It told me that if I crossed into this world and completed the task of marrying Kevin, I would receive the reward of waking William. So I came. In this world, my identity was an orphan deeply in love with Kevin, pursuing him by any means necessary. I knew Kevin hated me because the “first love” of his heart, Sarah, was my stepsister. But I didn’t care. Kevin’s love and hate were merely background noise to the task. All his torment and humiliation were just steps I had to endure to complete my mission. My heart had died the moment William fell into a coma. The only belief that sustained me was completing the task and returning to William’s side. I opened my eyes again. The vulnerability and despair in them had faded, replaced by numb determination. I looked at the sleeping man on the bed, my nominal fiancé, my gaze as calm as if I were looking at a stranger. Only one percent left. As soon as the wedding was over, I could go back. William, wait for me.

Jennifer POV The next morning, I woke to the sunlight. Kevin was propped against the headboard, on a FaceTime call with Sarah. His profile, bathed in the morning glow, seemed softer than I’d ever seen it. “Yacht party? Okay, I’ll be there.” He answered in a low voice, a smile playing on his lips. The call ended, and the softness on his face vanished, replaced by his usual cold demeanor. “Go handle the discharge papers,” he commanded. My heart tightened. I instinctively pleaded, “The doctor said you need a few more days of rest…” “What?” Kevin shot me a cold glance. “Are you not listening to me now?” His threatening gaze sent a chill down my spine. I was terrified he’d cancel the wedding in a fit of pique. I could only obey. “Yes, I’ll go right away.” That evening, at the exclusive yacht club at the private marina. Sarah had organized the party to celebrate Kevin’s miraculous survival. As soon as they arrived, Sarah, champagne flute in hand, greeted him with a beaming smile, though her eyes hid a subtle sharpness. “Kevin, you’re finally here! You’re so late, you deserve a penalty.” No sooner had she spoken than waiters pushed in a dining cart laden with dozens of exquisite French dishes. My gaze swept over the food, and my heart sank. Several dishes were heavily garnished with crushed peanuts. Kevin was severely allergic to peanuts; if he accidentally ingested them, the consequences would be dire. “You have to try a bite of each dish to show you’re truly sorry,” Sarah cooed, offering a silver fork to Kevin. Kevin, knowing it was a trap, glanced at Sarah, then actually reached for the fork. “Don’t!” Without thinking, I snatched the fork from his hand. Under everyone’s astonished gazes, I straightened my back and declared, every word clear, “I’ll eat them for him.” Kevin froze. Sarah’s smile faltered, then turned playful again. “Miss Jennifer truly loves Kevin, doesn’t she?” A ripple of laughter spread around us. I ignored them, picked up the fork, and under everyone’s watchful eyes, tasted every single dish. I have a mild seafood allergy, and these dishes contained a lot of shrimp and crab. For the sake of the wedding, I had to endure it. Next, guests, for various reasons, kept bringing new dishes. “This one’s a chef’s special, Kevin, try it?” “This white truffle was flown in specially from Italy, a welcome gift for Kevin!” Each time, I ate them in his place, my expression unchanging. I didn’t know how much I’d eaten, only that my stomach was churning, and my throat burned. Finally, red rashes began to erupt on my skin, itching agonizingly. I made an excuse and rushed to the restroom, vomiting until nothing but bile remained. The woman in the mirror was deathly pale, her lips bloodless. I splashed cold water on my face, forcing myself to calm down. I couldn’t leave him out there alone. What if Sarah tricked him again, and he touched an allergen? What about the wedding a month from now? I couldn’t bear the thought. I quickly tidied myself, endured the discomfort, and hurried back to the party. As I approached, I heard Sarah’s mocking voice. “Kevin, look, Jennifer truly loves you. She’d risk her life for you.” Kevin’s voice held a hint of subtle smugness. “Naturally,” he chuckled. “Why else would I marry her?” Hearing that, my heart settled a little. At least he still remembered the wedding. But the next second, Kevin’s words plunged me back into despair. He turned to Sarah, his voice low, with a hint of a question, “Sarah, is our agreement still on? If you just…” “Oh, what are you talking about?” Sarah smiled, cutting him off. She pulled a stack of elegant invitations from her clutch and began handing them out. “Everyone, I’m getting married next month too. You absolutely have to come.” She smiled beautifully as she handed out the invitations, finally placing one directly in front of Kevin. “Kevin, you and Miss Jennifer absolutely must come.” Kevin’s face darkened, turning as black as a storm-laden sky. He stared fixedly at the gilded invitation, which clearly bore Sarah’s name and Anthony’s name. Anthony was the heir to another prominent family in the city, and Kevin’s long-standing rival. The air in the party grew cold. Kevin’s anger twisted into a cold laugh. He snatched the invitation, tossed it to the ground without a glance, and stormed off. I hurried after him. I followed him into his car. Through the window, I watched Sarah being carefully escorted into another sports car by her fiancé, Anthony. The sight stung my eyes.

Jennifer POV The engine roared. Kevin watched Sarah get into Anthony’s car, rage consuming him. He floored the accelerator. He repeatedly and dangerously cut off their car, reckless, as if playing a game of chicken on the highway. I had just recovered from my allergy-induced vomiting and was thrown around, dizzy and nauseous. My face grew even paler. The chase led to the marina, where both groups boarded speedboats. On the sea, the pursuit continued. Kevin, like a madman, clung to Anthony’s boat. “Boom!” A deafening crash as the two speedboats collided violently. The immense impact threw me forward. Without thinking, I lunged, shielding Kevin with my body. Excruciating pain shot through me, yet I remained conscious. The boat was sinking. Fighting through the pain, I fumbled to smash the cabin window. Seawater immediately flooded in. I swam out of the cabin, firing a distress signal, and then, with all my might, dragged the unconscious Kevin onto a life raft. As soon as Kevin regained consciousness, he shoved me away, swimming frantically toward the other sunken boat, screaming, “Sarah! Sarah!” He saw Anthony alone, scrambling onto a life preserver, fleeing without a backward glance. “Anthony! Where’s Sarah?” Kevin roared. Anthony’s face was ashen. He selfishly defended himself, “I’m the sole heir to my family; I can’t die!” Kevin ignored him, diving into the water. He pulled Sarah, who was unconscious from the collision, out of the sinking cabin. Just as they surfaced, the speedboat behind them, due to fuel leakage, exploded and caught fire, flames reaching toward the sky. In the hospital corridor, Kevin anxiously stayed by Sarah’s side the entire time, ignoring me, despite my serious injuries and soaked clothes. I was a ghost. Medical staff wheeled me past him, but he didn’t even lift an eyelid. Outside the emergency room, the doctor emerged, his expression grave. “Miss Sarah has internal organ damage, severe hemorrhage, and she has rare RH-negative blood. The blood bank is critically low.” “Take mine!” Kevin immediately stepped forward, without hesitation. “No!” I cried out, struggling off another hospital bed and rushing to the doctor. “He’s injured too, he shouldn’t donate blood! Take mine! I know I’m also RH-negative!” The doctor looked at my pale face and injuries, frowning. “Miss, your body is also very weak; you’re not suitable for blood donation.” But I was stubbornly insistent, gripping the doctor’s arm, my eyes resolute. “I insist. Use my blood.” Kevin looked at me, his expression complex. The operating room light stayed on for a long time. After the blood donation, my already weak body felt even worse. Nurses helped me out of the operating room, each step feeling like walking on a blade. I looked up and saw Kevin in the next room, tenderly caring for Sarah, who had just been out of danger. He was feeding her water and wiping the sweat from her forehead. That tender look, a luxury I’d chased for ten years and never caught. I suddenly felt a wave of weakness, my vision blurred, and I almost fell, saved only by the nurse beside me. “Why do you do this to yourself?” the nurse sighed. “He doesn’t have you in his heart at all.” I tried to force a smile, my face tight, probably managing a grimace worse than a cry. I didn’t speak, just lowered my head and continued bandaging my arm. A voice in my heart repeated, forcefully, No, I don’t love him at all. I only knew I had to do this. Only this way could the wedding proceed smoothly. And only this way would my William have hope of returning. In the following days, Kevin, naturally, stayed at the hospital. I often caught glimpses of him hurrying down the corridor, or carrying a basin to fetch water. He seemed utterly devoted. That day, I was leaning against the wall near the nurses’ station when I heard Sarah’s delicate voice drift from the half-open door: “Kevin, the nurses here are so clumsy…” After a moment of silence, I distinctly heard her next words, “I want Jennifer to take care of me.” A brief quiet. Then Kevin’s calm voice: “Okay.” Soon after, footsteps stopped in front of me. I looked up and saw Kevin. He looked at me and said in a commanding tone, “Go take care of Sarah.”

Jennifer POV I became Sarah’s official private caregiver. On the first day, Sarah pointed to a plate of lobster, sweetly complaining her fingers might get hurt, and demanded I peel out the whole lobster meat with my bare hands. I silently complied. Lobster shells are hard and sharp, and my fingers were soon raw and bleeding. I peeled one after another until my fingertips were numb with pain. When Kevin pushed the door open, I instinctively hid my hands behind my back. He didn’t notice, walking straight to the bed to pick up a bowl of soup, spooning it gently into Sarah’s mouth. The sight was like a needle piercing my heart, yet no blood flowed. The next day, Sarah deliberately dropped a diamond earring into the hospital garden’s frozen pond. “Oh dear, it slipped,” she feigned panic. “Jennifer, could you please find it for me? Kevin gave it to me.” It was deep winter, and the water was covered with thin ice. Without a word, I stripped off my coat and jumped into the pond. The icy water made me shiver, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. I dived repeatedly, searching, occasionally surfacing for air. From the hospital room window, I could see Kevin massaging Sarah’s shoulders, both of them laughing and chatting. It wasn’t until dusk that I found the earring in the pond’s muddy bottom. When I crawled ashore, my hands and feet were numb with cold, and my lips were purple. On the third day, Sarah had someone bring in a valuable long-haired cat. I am severely allergic to cat fur. Sarah pretended not to know, pointing to the luxurious cat tree in the corner, covered in fur. “Jennifer, the cat tree is filthy. Would you mind cleaning it, please?” she asked with a smile. I said nothing, and walked over. In the enclosed space, fine fur particles floated everywhere. Soon, I began to have difficulty breathing. My skin became red and itchy, my eyes bloodshot and tearing. I felt like I’d been thrown into boiling water. I fought the suffocating sensation, determined to clean the cat house until it was spotless. When I stumbled back into the hospital room, Kevin was sitting on the sofa. He saw the red rash on my face and my nearly swollen-shut eyes. His brows furrowed. I thought he might show a little pity. But he didn’t. He just spoke coldly, his voice laced with disgust, “Go clean yourself up. Don’t scare Sarah.” Those words cut deeper than any knife. As I turned to leave, I heard Sarah and her friends’ barely suppressed laughter behind me. “Look at her, she’s a mess! So funny.” “She’s got the life of a maid, yet she dreams of being a billionaire’s wife.” “I bet Kevin will get bored and dump her soon, then get back with Sarah.” Kevin didn’t reply. His silence, surprisingly, made me feel a little better. At least he hadn’t confirmed it himself. The day Sarah was discharged, the sky opened up, unleashing a torrent. Before getting into the car, Sarah suddenly grabbed Kevin’s arm, pointing at me. “Kevin, I don’t want to ride in the same car as her.” Kevin didn’t even look at me, simply commanded, “You take a taxi back.” With that, he closed the car door, and the black Bentley sped away from me, splashing mud. I stood in the pouring rain, soaked to the bone in an instant. I stretched out my hand, but couldn’t hail a single cab. Finally, I had no choice but to walk back in the rain, step by arduous step. Three hours. When I finally reached the empty mansion, I looked like I’d been pulled from the water; not a single spot on me was dry. The days of exhaustion, torment, and this downpour utterly broke my body. I fell ill, burning with a high fever that wouldn’t break. In my feverish sleep, I seemed to return to my own world, seeing the person I longed for day and night. William was holding me tenderly, his warm hand stroking my forehead. “William…” I couldn’t hold back anymore. Ten years of accumulated grievances and longing burst forth. I clutched his sleeve, like a helpless child, sobbing uncontrollably. “I miss you so much… I hurt so much… I almost couldn’t go on…” “Jennifer.” A cold, hard voice ripped me from my dream. I painstakingly opened my eyes. Through my fever-blurred vision, a tall figure sat by my bed. It was Kevin. His face darkened, his eyes churning with an anger and a scrutiny I couldn’t decipher. He stared at me, demanding, word by word. “Who is William?”

Jennifer POV The moment Kevin demanded an answer, my entire body tensed. Despite my severe illness, I forced a smile and lied without thinking. “William is my brother. We were inseparable. He passed away many years ago.” Kevin stared at my face, his gaze sharp, trying to find a crack in my expression. He seemed angry. He walked out, and the door slammed shut, leaving me alone in the room. Only then did I finally relax, slumping back onto the bed. Just a little more. A few days later, just as I began to recover, Kevin took me to a gala. When we arrived, I realized it was Sarah’s birthday celebration. The ballroom was magnificent, filled with high society. As soon as Kevin arrived, he left me behind, walking straight to the evening’s main attraction. Sarah, in her couture gown, looked absolutely stunning, like a princess. Kevin stood by her side, shielding her from unwanted attention, adjusting her dress, attending to her every need flawlessly. I became the laughingstock of the entire event. Guests intentionally or unintentionally avoided me, isolating me in a corner, as if I were something dirty. I was content to be ignored. I found an inconspicuous corner and watched the whole charade with a detached gaze. The gift-giving segment began, and the atmosphere grew lively. Kevin presented a velvet box. When he opened it, a gasp swept through the room. It was a necklace custom-made with rare pink diamonds, sparkling brilliantly under the lights, priceless. Sarah gasped in surprise, her eyes turning to Kevin, as she sweetly said, “Kevin, you’re too extravagant.” Kevin’s face showed a faint smile as he personally fastened it around her neck. The whispers of the crowd filtered into my ears. “Did you see that? Kevin only has Sarah in his heart.” “So what’s Jennifer? A lovesick fool throwing herself at him. So embarrassing.” “Exactly, she just shamelessly latched onto an engagement. Has Kevin even looked at her properly? Pathetic.” The words were sharp as needles, but I paid them no mind. I picked up a glass of champagne, raising it toward Kevin and Sarah’s direction, silently mouthing a blessing. As long as Kevin didn’t publicly cancel the engagement, he could give Sarah all the gold and silver, even his heart, and I wouldn’t care. I never loved him anyway.

Jennifer POV Halfway through the party, Sarah excused herself to the garden for some fresh air. Soon after, her sobbing voice came through a phone call, thick with tears. “Kevin, save me, someone pushed me into the pool… I’m drowning…” Kevin’s face changed instantly. He didn’t even hang up the phone, just dashed out. My heart tightened with a bad feeling. I immediately put down my drink and followed him. Deep in the garden, I indeed saw Kevin pulling a drenched Sarah from the pool. “Kevin…” Sarah nestled in his arms like a frightened bird, her cries sharp and broken. She extended a trembling hand, pointing to me not far away. “It was Jennifer, she was jealous you were good to me, so she pushed me.” She choked, each word like a knife, “I know you love Kevin, but how could you use such a vicious method…” Kevin was furious, his eyes on me as if he wanted to devour me whole. “Jennifer, you are truly wicked!” He didn’t listen to my explanation, announcing, word by word, “Our engagement is hereby canceled!” I panicked. My mission was going to fail! “No… it wasn’t me…” I rushed forward, clutching Kevin’s suit sleeve desperately, trying to explain, “Kevin, believe me, it really wasn’t me!” “Please, don’t cancel the engagement. You can hit me, curse me, just don’t cancel the wedding.” Kevin roughly shook me off, with such force that I fell directly to the ground. He carried Sarah away, without a backward glance, leaving my cries to echo behind him. I scrambled up regardless, chasing him out of the ballroom, only to watch his car speed away into the distance. I collapsed to the ground, but the man never once looked back. From that day on, Kevin refused to see me. For the sake of the mission, I could only resort to the most desperate method. Day after day, I stood outside the tightly shut ornate iron gates of Kevin’s mansion. The sky opened up, unleashing a torrent. The temperature plummeted. I was soaked to the bone, shivering in the rain, yet I dared not move an inch. “I know I was wrong. Please, don’t cancel the wedding.” I repeated the words into the intercom, my voice already hoarse. I stood in the rain for three days and three nights, until my legs swelled and my consciousness blurred. On the evening of the third day, the tightly shut gates finally opened. Kevin stood at the entrance, frowning as he looked at me, drenched and swaying precariously. His expression was complex. “Do you have no self-respect?” he asked, his voice hoarse. Seeing a glimmer of hope, I immediately seized the opportunity, tears welling in my eyes. “No… I don’t care about dignity… As long as I can marry you, I’ll give up anything…” Kevin stared at me for a long time. Finally, he conceded in a low voice, “If you want my forgiveness, go make amends to Sarah.” He took me to the alley behind an abandoned factory on the outskirts of town. A winding path was covered with broken glass, glinting sharply in the setting sun. Kevin’s assistant stood at the entrance, relaying Sarah’s words. “Miss Sarah said if Miss Jennifer can walk this path barefoot, she will forgive you.”

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I bombed my SATs and didn’t get into college. Meanwhile, my cousin Clara got accepted into an Ivy League. When my professor mother heard the news, she was so furious she literally coughed up blood. “If I’d known you’d turn out to be this useless, I should’ve just let your aunt swap you when you were born. I wish Clara was my daughter instead.” When I was born, Aunt Helen gave birth to Clara at the same hospital. While my mom was unconscious after delivery, my aunt bribed a nurse to switch us. My crying woke Mom up. Like a protective wolf, she ignored her postpartum injuries and fought to get me back. But now, Mom said she regretted it. My depression spiraled. I jumped from the balcony. When I woke up, I’d gone back to the day the nurse tried to switch us. This time, I stayed quiet. Because this was what Mom wanted. She didn’t pick me this time. But later, Mom held my emaciated body and cried tears of regret. She just wanted to hear me call her “Mom” one more time. Falling from a building hurts. My head felt like it had split into pieces. Before I could process what happened, I found myself as a baby again. I could see my mother’s pale, sleeping face right beside me. The air was thick with the smell of blood and disinfectant. I’d been reborn to the moment right after my birth. Suddenly, a nurse in white appeared at the door, holding another red-faced baby. She moved quickly and quietly, swapping me with the infant in her arms, then rushed toward the door with me. I remembered—Mom had told this story countless times in my previous life. She said I’d almost been switched, but at the crucial moment, I’d cried loudly and woken her up. Mom got me back, but the violent movement caused severe tearing. She had to stay in the hospital for three months and developed an embarrassing condition. When she got emotional, she’d leak urine. For a distinguished professor who valued perfection and dignity, this was unbearable trauma. But I’d been reborn. I could change everything. I kept my mouth shut tight. I wouldn’t make a sound. But unexpectedly, the baby on the bed started crying. The nurse holding me froze. I whipped my head toward Mom’s direction. The room was dark. From this distance, I couldn’t see clearly, but the person on the bed didn’t move. The nurse bolted for the door. In her panic, she didn’t control her footsteps, but even as she burst through the door, Mom still didn’t wake up. The nurse hid outside, watching nervously. She saw Mom sit up and skillfully pick up the baby, humming a lullaby. The melody drifted out of the room, and my whole body went rigid. Mom didn’t know any lullabies at this point. In my past life, when I was three and wouldn’t eat, Mom had specifically learned that song to coax me. So Mom had been reborn too, hadn’t she? She’d pretended to sleep, waiting for the nurse to finish the swap. So what Mom said in my past life wasn’t just angry words. She really did want Clara as her daughter. Mom didn’t want me anymore. No matter how heartbroken I was, I was still switched and given to Aunt Helen. Aunt Helen didn’t care for me the way she’d cared for Clara in my previous life. Because I was just a fake. She even deliberately collected her breast milk. “If Victoria runs low on milk, she can give the baby mine. Can’t let her daughter go hungry.” I was so hungry I could barely stay awake. Finally, someone pried my mouth open and stuck a bottle in. I sucked once and realized it wasn’t milk—just bland rice water. When I stopped after a few sips, Aunt Helen pinched my bottom hard. “How dare you be picky? Who told you to be born to Victoria? Don’t drink it then—starve to death!” I wailed from the pain. This scene would repeat often in the house. Dad’s parents were dead. He only had Aunt Helen. So after she got pregnant out of wedlock, she moved into my parents’ house. When Mom and Aunt Helen were both taking care of babies, my aunt would find ways to make me cry. I was already a premature baby. In my past life, with Mom’s careful care, I’d still grown up weak and sickly. Now, drinking rice water, I quickly got sick from malnutrition. I ran a fever and broke out in rashes. Aunt Helen ignored me, sitting on the couch drinking soup the housekeeper made. The only person who could save me—Mom—wasn’t home. That morning, Clara had choked on milk and refused to drink anymore. Mom panicked and had Dad drive them both to the hospital. Eventually, I passed out completely. Even my survival instinct faded.

I thought I would die. When I woke up, I was in the ICU. I gulped oxygen, and my body slowly regained sensation. Outside, Dad was scolding Aunt Helen so harshly she didn’t dare talk back. After that, Aunt Helen didn’t dare feed me rice water anymore, but she still couldn’t bear to waste her breast milk on me. She bought the cheapest formula instead. My life was temporarily spared. Mom named Clara after me—Clara Rivers, the name I’d had in my past life. I felt heartbroken that I’d even lost my name. Aunt Helen casually picked mine. “This one will be Mia.” Mom didn’t say much, just looked at me with complicated eyes. At six, Clara and I attended the same elementary school. Classes started at 7:30 AM. The difference was, Clara got to go to school with braids Mom had personally done, carrying a warm breakfast, riding in Dad’s car. I had to make breakfast for Aunt Helen, clean the house, and only leave with ten minutes to spare under her impatient glare, walking fifteen minutes to school. First week of school—late every single day. I had to stand during morning study hall as punishment every time. Whenever I asked to leave earlier for school, Aunt Helen would beat and scold me. That’s how I became the “bad kid” in my classmates’ eyes and the cautionary tale teachers warned others about. One day, Mom forgot some documents and came back early. She saw this exact scene: Little me standing on a stool cooking, while Aunt Helen sat in the living room watching TV, eating fruit and yelling that I was trying to starve her. Mom froze. Our eyes met. Mine were filled with tears, but also hope. Aunt Helen treated me badly because I wasn’t her child. But I was Mom’s child. The next second, Aunt Helen had her excuse ready, pulling out her so-called “tough love” philosophy. “I’m just disciplining the child. Doing hard labor at this age helps her appreciate studying later.” Mom was easily convinced. She grabbed her documents and left without looking back. I stared at her retreating figure, frozen. Then Aunt Helen beat me again. But I couldn’t feel the pain. Because my heart hurt more. In middle school, girls started developing. Aunt Helen hand-sewed four bras and put them all in Clara’s closet. When I asked for one too, her mocking gaze swept over me, and the next second she reached out and twisted my tender chest cruelly. Tears streamed down my face from the pain. She screamed: “Already acting like a slut at your age? Trying to seduce men, is that it?” I never dared ask again. I could only fold tissues flat when she wasn’t looking and tape them to myself with clear tape. It gave me a tiny bit of security. But middle school had PE class, and the uniforms were loose. When I ran, sweat loosened the tape, and the tissues fell out in front of everyone. Boys stared at me strangely. Girls wanted nothing to do with me. After that, rumors about me spread through school. When I went to the bathroom during breaks, boys would deliberately bump into me. When the teacher noticed, she contacted my guardian to come to school. I stood outside the office. When Aunt Helen arrived, she greeted me with two loud slaps across the face. Students in the hallway stopped to stare. Teachers came out of the office at the sound. My face burned. The humiliation nearly drowned me. But Aunt Helen didn’t stop. She pulled my hair and my collar, screaming: “Seducing people at your age—you’re disgusting!”

She started pulling at my shirt, trying to strip me in front of everyone. I clutched my clothes desperately, sobbing hysterically. Finally, a teacher who couldn’t stand it anymore stepped forward to stop her and brought her into the office. After calming Aunt Helen down, the teacher got to the point and pulled out my exam results. “The rumors will die down. Kids forget fast. Just buy Mia a couple of bras and it’ll be fine.” “The real issue is Mia’s grades this time… They’re not good…” When we got home, Aunt Helen took my report card to complain to Mom. “I’m so jealous you have Clara. Great grades, obedient, adorable.” “Not like Mia. Today the teacher called me to school—I’ve never been so humiliated.” Mom’s eyes flashed with relief and pride, though she offered comfort. “Learning is mostly about natural talent. She’ll get there eventually.” In Mom’s eyes, I was the one without talent. But she didn’t know—in my past life, my grades were bad because of bullying. After Mom found out and transferred me to an advanced class, my grades still didn’t improve. Because by then, my best friend Luna had already been bullied to death. This time, I swore I’d protect her. After the first monthly exam results came out, Luna was targeted again. Because she’d scored first place by a huge margin. Using my knowledge from my past life, I quickly became friends with Luna. I also discovered something shocking—the source of the bullying was Clara. Luna had been threatened to put Clara’s name on the next exam, or the bullying would continue. I gave her advice: don’t score as high next time. But keep studying hard in daily life. By the second monthly exam, Luna only scored twentieth in class. Meanwhile, my grades skyrocketed. I became second in the entire class, drawing all the fire. When I came home with my good grades, Dad, Mom, Aunt Helen, and Clara were sitting together like a tribunal. Clara had bombed this exam. She cried pitifully and implied that I’d cheated with the help of the first-place student. I didn’t care what the others thought. Even when Aunt Helen hit me with a broom, I didn’t move. I just stared at Mom without blinking. Soon, Mom looked at my report card and delivered her verdict: “She definitely cheated. You don’t have the talent. Your grades couldn’t improve this fast.” “She did something wrong. A beating will teach her a lesson.” A bitter smile twisted my lips. What was I even hoping for? In the eyes of someone who doesn’t love you, nothing you do is right. But in the middle of the night, I found a bottle of painkillers lying quietly outside my door. Mom’s regular medication. I bit my lip and brought it into my room. Aunt Helen insisted I’d cheated and deliberately starved me as punishment. I fainted from hunger at school. This time, both Aunt Helen and Mom came. Facing Mom’s questioning, Aunt Helen instinctively threw me under the bus. “She stole money from me, so I cut off her allowance. Don’t you have some savings of your own? How could you faint from hunger? I think she’s faking!” I explained weakly, my face pale: “Clara took my savings.” Mom called Clara over. Clara looked aggrieved: “You’re lying! You gave your savings to those delinquent boys in class.” With her real daughter backing her up, Aunt Helen tried to cement the accusation that I was dating delinquents. But this time, Mom stopped her with a serious expression. “Clara, you can’t say things like that. A girl’s reputation is important.” “If the meal card is lost, just report it and get a new one.” Aunt Helen was a bit afraid of Mom and mumbled into silence. They all left. I was lying there with an IV drip, eyes closed, when I felt movement under my blanket. I opened my eyes just in time to see Mom tucking money under my covers. Caught in the act, Mom jerked her hand back and turned to leave. But I called out to her: “Mom!” Her back stiffened, but she said stubbornly: “I’m not your mother. Don’t call me that.” But I persisted: “I heard Clara call Aunt Helen ‘Mom’ in private. What if there was a mistake? What if you really are my mother?” Mom’s voice sounded flustered: “Everyone wants an excellent daughter. Stop overthinking. I only have Clara as my daughter.” But “Clara Rivers” was the name you gave me in my past life, Mom. I made up my mind not to let Mom keep deceiving herself. Since she wanted an excellent daughter, I’d become excellent. Becoming first place by a landslide should be enough, right?

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