Category: English

After Clara, the sister our entire family had always been so proud of, died unexpectedly, my parents were utterly devastated, their cries tearing through the silence. But I, Stella, stumbled upon Clara’s anonymous online post, revealing she had deliberately faked her death. Just as I was about to tell Mom and Dad the truth, I overheard Mom talking to Dad: “The wrong one died. The most accomplished one just… left us.” “We finally put a master’s student through school, hoping she’d help with her sister’s never-ending medical bills.” “Why did I give birth to such a parasitic daughter with a chronic illness!” I froze outside the door. The “wrong daughter” she spoke of, the one who was a burden, was me. I was born with congenital cerebral palsy, and the doctors advised them to give up on me. But Mom and Dad refused. They sacrificed everything, enduring unimaginable hardships, to raise me. Because of my cerebral palsy and uncoordinated limbs, classmates mocked me, and I developed depression and anxiety. Our whole family, struggling to pay for my treatments and medication, never knew a single day of peace. I was the burden holding our family back. Watching my parents’ retreating figures, I whispered to myself: “Mom, you’re right. It should have been me.” “I’ll do as you wish and disappear.”

Before I died, I revisited Clara’s anonymous post. She had updated it with a new status: *Faking my death feels like being reborn. I don’t have to scrounge for every penny anymore, saving money for my sister’s treatments.* It turned out she faked her death because of *me*! *Plip*. A tear hit the screen. Blurring the words. A wave of guilt washed over me, yet I felt an undeniable sense of relief. Because of me, her life truly had been miserable. She never wore new clothes, always wearing things that were too small or too short. Her outfits were always mismatched, ill-fitting for her age – men’s clothes, women’s clothes, children’s clothes, even elderly attire. Yet she would smile and ask Mom: “It’s almost Christmas, could we please get Stella a new dress?” She never asked for anything for herself, as thoughtful and selfless as an angel sent from above. Whenever our family rarely had meat, She’d mimic Mom and Dad, making sure all the lean meat landed on my plate. Skinny as she was, she would carry me on her back for the long walk to school. Not just for a day or two. But for twelve years, through countless springs, summers, autumns, and winters! When others called me a cripple, Clara, usually so quiet, would fight like a lion to defend me. The scales of my parents’ love had always tipped in my favor ever since I was diagnosed with cerebral palsy. But Clara never competed for their affection. She loved me just as much as Mom and Dad did, and beyond that, she studied with fierce determination. She would say: “Stella, I’ll definitely get into a great university. Someday, I’ll make sure our whole family lives a good life.” In everyone’s eyes, Clara was Mom and Dad’s pride. The sole beacon of hope in our broken home. I typed a private message to Clara, my hands trembling. “Clara, thank you for loving me all these years.” “I’m so sorry that you had a sister like me.” “I’m tired. I’m going to another world to rest.” “Clara, please come home.” The screen was covered in tears, making the touch unresponsive. I wiped it for a long time with my sleeve before I could exit. I opened the drawer, where I’d collected sleeping pills for six months, finally gathering a lethal dose. At the very moment I decided to swallow them, I still chose to leave a final note for Mom and Dad. “Mom and Dad, I’m so sorry. Because of me, our whole family’s life has been trapped in a never-ending struggle.” “I can’t hold on anymore. I have to free myself. Please don’t cry.” I held back my tears, not letting them fall onto the paper. A thousand words churned in my heart, but I didn’t know where to begin. This would have to do. I placed my suicide note in the most conspicuous spot on my bedside table. Without hesitation, I swallowed half the bottle of sleeping pills. I lay down, pulled the covers over me, found a comfortable position, and closed my eyes. Mom, Dad, Clara, goodbye forever. That evening, my spirit drifted through our home. The quiet house finally heard the sound of the front door opening. “Stella, are you hungry?” “I bought some chicken wings. I’ll make your favorite soy sauce chicken wings.” Mom looked utterly drained, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed. Her spirit was low, but she forced her voice to sound normal. 2 As usual, she called out to both my room and Clara’s. Then she headed straight for the kitchen, bustling about. Dad had the flu and was coughing incessantly. He was curled up miserably on the sofa. My heart ached for him. I stared at his head full of white hair, his face etched with wrinkles, his body thin and frail, his clothes worn and tattered. I vaguely remembered that my dad used to be a handsome young man. Mom poked her head out of the kitchen, her eyes filled with worry, and urged Dad: “Get some medicine. This family relies on you.” “You can’t afford to collapse.” Dad didn’t open his eyes. He shivered, wrapping his arms around his chest and hunching his shoulders. “I’m fine.” Suddenly, he found a burst of strength, got up unsteadily, and shuffled into the room. “I’ll just go sweat it out under the covers. I’ll be fine after a good sweat.” He lay on the old, thin quilt, and since it wasn’t warm enough, he piled all the thick clothes in the house on top of himself. He mumbled softly: “That money… it would be enough for Stella’s medicine.” “Sigh…” He let out a heavy sigh. I stood by his bed, tears streaming down my face with sorrow. He cried in his sleep, his sobs muffled and low, as if afraid Mom and I would hear. “Clara, such a good, accomplished child, how could she…?” “Heaven, if you absolutely had to take one of my daughters.” “Why did you take Clara…?” I patted Dad’s back, but he felt nothing. “Dad, I’m gone.” “You and Mom won’t suffer anymore.” “Clara might even come back.” He heard nothing, hiding under the covers, choking back his grief. Not until Mom finished cooking and came in to call him for dinner. He controlled his emotions remarkably well, not letting Mom hear that he had been crying. “I don’t feel like eating. You call Stella to eat.” Mom sighed and turned to my room and Clara’s. She pushed open the door and saw me lying under the covers. “Stella, dinner’s ready.” “I made your favorite soy sauce chicken wings today.” Seeing no response, no sound from me, she patiently called out twice more. Still no reaction from me. Mom’s temper flared instantly: “I’m talking to you!” “Are you dead? Why aren’t you answering me!” “I’m constantly waiting on you like a maid, and I never get any thanks!” “Can you just give me a break? Stop lying in bed all day like a useless lump!” “I’m talking to you! Do you hear me?!” “With everything that’s happened to our family, all you do is sleep!” “Maybe you should just die! Then I could die with you! We could all be free!” She spiraled into a breakdown as she yelled, tears streaming down her face like pearls from a broken string, constantly wiping them away. I instinctively reached out to hug her, but my arms passed right through. I could only watch helplessly, crying again and again: “Mom, I’m so sorry.” “I’m so sorry.” I knew it wasn’t that she and Dad didn’t love me; it was just that my illness had driven them to the brink of madness for so many years. Mom stormed out, turning her back, and sat at the rickety old dining table with a broken leg, wiping away tears. On the table were three bowls of plain rice, two soy sauce chicken wings, and a plate of homemade pickles. The chicken wings were for me. Mom only ever bought two. At first, the produce vendor used to sneer at Mom, saying she’d never seen anyone buy just two chicken wings. Mom would just give an embarrassed smile every time. Later, the vendor learned about our family’s situation and never gave Mom another cold stare. She started giving Mom free seasoning every time. 3 When Clara was still here, her eyes would practically pop out with longing, but she’d force herself to say: “Stella, you eat them. I don’t like them.” I once asked her: “Clara, Mom and Dad are so unfair to me, doesn’t it make you sad?” She smiled and said: “No, why would that make me sad?” “Mom and Dad treat you better in terms of food and daily life, but they sent me to school, didn’t they?” “Their sacrifices for me are no less than for you; studying is very expensive.” “So, I don’t feel it’s unfair.” Thinking of Clara’s sweet smile, my heart ached faintly. If I hadn’t had this expensive illness of mine. Our family could have lived a good life. Mom and Dad both worked two jobs: construction sites during the day and washing dishes at a restaurant at night. Their combined income was roughly fifteen hundred dollars a month. But my cerebral palsy physical therapy cost eight hundred dollars a month. Actually, there were programs that offered free physical therapy for people with coordination difficulties and walking impairments like me. I went there for a while, but Mom felt the rehabilitation results weren’t good enough. So she spent money to send me to a private facility every day. She’d drop me off at noon, then pick me up two hours later. She drove me for twenty-six years, rain or shine. Plus, I had depression and anxiety, and an hour of therapy cost eight hundred dollars. Mom didn’t bat an eye, sending me three or four times a week. I also had to take all sorts of medication. This meant Clara had no money for living expenses when she went to university and had to work tirelessly to support herself. Because of me, everyone in our family struggled as if in hell. Actually, to prevent them from being dragged down by me, I had attempted suicide several times. Each time, I was rescued. Thankfully, fate had finally answered my prayers, and this time, I had gotten my wish. I remember when I was little, my grandmother would take a bus for several hours from her rural home just to bring me fresh farm eggs. Seeing Mom tormented by me, utterly miserable. She pitied her own daughter, couldn’t bear to watch, and told Mom: “Either abandon Stella, or find a new husband!” “You’re still young; your life shouldn’t be forever stuck in this quagmire!” “If you don’t care about yourself, I do! You’re my flesh and blood!” Mom didn’t listen and had a huge fight with Grandma. After that, Grandma never visited again, and Mom had no home to go back to. My thoughts snapped back. Mom covered the chicken wings. She had no appetite to eat either. Before going to bed, she stood at my bedroom door and said: “I left your dinner on the table. Get up and eat if you get hungry.” No response. She didn’t get angry this time, just turned and went back to her room to sleep. The next day, Dad’s flu hadn’t improved, but he still had to go to the construction site at six in the morning. Even though he was weak, he forced himself. I stomped my feet in a panic, bouncing frantically in front of him and Mom: “Dad, Mom, please, lift my blanket and check!” “I’m gone! You don’t have to work yourselves to death anymore!” “Please, just look!” Mom glanced at the untouched rice and chicken wings on the table and called from my room: “Stella, what are you upset about now?!” “Why didn’t you eat dinner last night?!” “Your dad and I have to go to work. Get up and eat quickly.” “I’ll be back at noon to take you to therapy, do you hear me?!”

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I poured ten years into Gaylen’s life. I personally guided him from a broke student to the CEO of a top corporation. Nearing New Year’s Eve, I discovered I was pregnant. I carefully wrapped a bouquet of red roses, tucking the positive pregnancy test inside. Tonight, I planned to propose to him. I never imagined I’d witness his betrayal with my own eyes. The girl huddled in Gaylen’s arms, sobbing plaintively. “I don’t want to sneak around with you anymore. I want to be your wife. That old woman doesn’t deserve you.” Gaylen playfully tapped Chloe’s nose, his gaze full of doting affection. “Yes, my future Mrs. Gaylen.” The roses slipped from my hand, falling to the ground. Gaylen turned, seeing me through a blur of tears. I covered my face and spun away, tears streaming between my fingers. Back at the apartment, my stomach churned, and I wretched miserably over the trash can. A cold dread spread through my limbs as a pair of black leather shoes entered my vision. Gaylen gently patted my back, instinctively reaching for the antacids. “Stomach bothering you again?” The meticulously prepared candlelight dinner I’d set on the table now sat cold. I pulled away from Gaylen’s touch and headed for the bathroom. The tiled walls were covered with silly big-headed photos, snapshots of Gaylen’s and my ten years together. He, boyish and naive, slowly matured. I, already mature, slowly grew weary. I turned on the faucet, letting the rushing water mask my fragile sobs. After a long while, I composed myself. Gaylen was busy in the kitchen, and a comforting aroma of home-cooked food filled the apartment. When adults cheat, there’s often an unspoken understanding. No need for screaming and shouting. A steaming bowl of mushroom soup was placed in front of me. There was no guilt in Gaylen’s eyes, only the calm composure of a powerful man. The air hung heavy with unspoken words. I instinctively recoiled, moving to retreat to my room. Gaylen was quicker, catching my hand and sighing with feigned resignation. “She’s so innocent and sweet, just like how you used to feel about me.” “I promise I’m just playing around with her.” “I’ll never forget the help and kindness you’ve given me.” Ultimately, the Gaylen who’d tearfully promised to love me forever in the dead of night was long gone. The unspoken cold war between us dragged on for days. During this time, the doctor called to tell me that my body was weak, and I might not be able to handle the rigors of pregnancy. But when he was younger, Gaylen had always wanted me to have his child. This baby, I thought, could have been the turning point for our relationship. Restless and upset, I decided to visit the office to inspect some work. And, if possible, find a chance to talk to Gaylen. The moment I stepped into the office, the bustling, chattering employees instantly fell silent. Chloe, the junior assistant, was handing out coffees. She smirked at me. “Rhiannon, would you like a cup?” The coffee sleeve, emblazoned with a photo of Gaylen and me standing side-by-side, was a jarring sight. My nails dug into my palms, but I smiled sweetly. “Sure.” She held up the last cup, frowning in feigned difficulty. “But Rhiannon, at your age, you probably don’t need to stay up late, do you? Why don’t we leave the coffee for the younger staff who actually need it.” Suppressed snickers rippled through the office. Before I could react, Gaylen appeared, his voice sharp and cold. “Chloe, stop messing around.” It was a reprimand, sure, but I didn’t miss the soft, doting look in Gaylen’s eyes. Pouting, Chloe defiantly stuck out her tongue and ducked behind Gaylen. Gaylen strode towards me, taking the bag from my hand. “What brings you to the office today?” I casually picked up a coffee from the table, swirling it, feigning indifference. “Just came to let you know that Chloe is fired.”

A furious shriek echoed from behind me. The glass shattered inches from my feet, a shard slicing my ankle. The sharp sting spread, and I bit the inside of my cheek, then dialed my private lawyer. “Someone just threatened my safety. Come deal with it.” I leaned against my car, annoyed, and reached for a cigarette. But the thought of the baby in my belly made me stop. Gaylen rushed over, his grip tightening painfully on my wrist. “Chloe needs this job to support her sick grandmother. She can’t lose it.” “She’s suffered enough.” Suffered enough? I flung Gaylen’s hand away, my composure snapping, and days of pent-up resentment exploded. “Just because she’s ‘suffered enough’ means she gets to steal my boyfriend? Just because she’s ‘suffered enough’ means she can strut around, flaunting it in my face?” I hiked up my skirt, revealing my bleeding ankle, and let out a choked laugh. “Or is it just *her* ‘suffering’ that tugs at your heart?” My hoarse shouts echoed in the empty parking garage. Gaylen massaged his throbbing temples. “If you won’t let her go, I’ll have to protect her my own way.” He turned and walked away without a backward glance. His broad back disappeared from sight. All my defenses crumbled, and I hugged my arms, sinking to the ground. Gaylen had been “suffering” back then, too. I’d taken him in. He had an easy job, and after work, he’d do the laundry, cook, and take care of my daily needs. He’d worry when my eyes were red from overtime, and when my stomach bled from drinking with clients. He’d worry that I had no one else to rely on, and that I wouldn’t dare take a sick day, terrified of missing a promotion. Maybe Gaylen had forgotten. His original ambition to climb the corporate ladder was just to be my rock, to build a safe haven for me. I pulled open the car door and sped off towards the hospital. While waiting in the corridor, the couple across from me, after learning they were pregnant, wept with joy. The man squeezed the woman’s hand, tearfully promising to be a good father. It was a touching, heartwarming scene. I gently touched my abdomen, my heart wavering slightly. Was I too headstrong, causing all these arguments with Gaylen? If he knew we had a baby, would he finally settle down and become a responsible father? My phone buzzed, shattering all my sweet illusions. Chloe hadn’t been fired. Gaylen had hired her as his personal assistant, reporting directly to him. The usually dormant company group chat suddenly burst to life. “OMG, Chloe is amazing! With Gaylen covering for her, she can basically run wild in this company.” “Gaylen is known for being strictly fair, but he broke all the rules to keep Chloe. What a man!” “Who knows, maybe Chloe will be our boss one day. Our respected CEO’s wife!” My heart sank deeper into the abyss. Gaylen, who never participated in company gossip, even showed up, sending out a huge cash prize to celebrate. My phone vibrated frantically, displaying a familiar number. I answered. “Gaylen pulled strings with the CEO, cashing in the favor from his last big project, just to keep Chloe.” “Your… dismissal approval has been returned to your inbox.” I responded flatly. Gaylen had taken on a difficult but high-stakes project last time. I’d pulled all-nighters for half a month, practically gave myself a heart attack. I’d gone through hell and back to help him nail that tough challenge. We’d agreed then that we’d use that success to get a week’s vacation and fly to Bali to relax. All my hard work, my very blood and sweat, just a stepping stone for him. Tears streamed down my face. I didn’t hesitate anymore; I walked into the operating room. I also applied for a transfer to the headquarters in the States.

When I pushed open the door to our apartment, an unfamiliar perfume filled the air. Chloe lay on the leather couch, wearing the expensive face mask Gaylen had given *me*. Seeing me, she arrogantly lifted her head, flashing the pigeon-egg diamond ring on her ring finger. “Gaylen gave me this. Pretty, right?” “He also said that once he’s firmly seated as CEO, he’ll kick you to the curb and marry me, you know.” A dull ache throbbed in my lower abdomen, and a warm liquid trickled down my legs. The bathroom door opened, steam swirling out. Gaylen emerged shirtless, several crimson scratch marks across his chest. In the trash can, there were used condoms. Everything screamed that Gaylen had been loving another woman in *our* home. The blood under me plopped onto the floor. Chloe clutched her nose in disgust, scrambling to Gaylen’s side. “Gaylen, do older women just get dirty now?” “The air is full of blood; it’s making me sick.” She faked a gag. Gaylen, however, merely frowned deeply and made a quick phone call. The cleaner arrived promptly. She cleaned every nook and cranny of the apartment. But the blood between my legs just kept flowing. Gaylen used to be so incredibly attentive; he knew my cycle dates without fail. When I was younger, I didn’t take care of myself, which led to irregular periods. Gaylen had insisted on me taking supplements for two years, and he’d practically memorized my monthly cycle. He would have just needed to glance at the period tracking chart on the fridge. He would have known something was wrong. The cleaner, looking at the blood beneath me, worriedly advised, “Miss, are you feeling unwell?” Gaylen glanced at me, his lips parting. But before he could speak, Chloe sagged weakly into his arms. “Gaylen, you were so rough just now.” “My back hurts, and I can’t stand straight. Carry me to the bedroom, please.” Gaylen pulled his gaze away, and as he brushed past me, he muttered an annoyed reminder. “Older people should definitely pay more attention to personal hygiene.” “You should probably stay somewhere else tonight.” He handed me a hotel keycard. I suddenly remembered the first time I met Gaylen; he was huddled under a freeway overpass. His shirt was drenched, caked in mud. I handed him a keycard, just like this, for a suite at the hotel I frequented, telling him to go take a hot shower. The fragile, helpless boy I had nurtured and guided had slowly grown into someone capable of standing on his own. Even, someone who was now my equal. My hands and feet were icy cold. I took the keycard Gaylen handed me. He looked surprised. “You’re actually agreeing to move out?” I gave Gaylen a heartbreaking look, but said nothing. I just numbly packed my bags and slammed the door shut. My chest ached with a dense, suffocating pain. I sat in my car, finally unable to control my emotions, and burst into uncontrollable sobs. The next day at the office, everyone’s eyes held a mocking glint. In the breakroom, Chloe was the center of attention, surrounded by younger girls like she was royalty. “Chloe, did Gaylen pursue you?” “When you become the CEO’s wife, please don’t forget to promote us!” Chloe shot a triumphant glance at me, standing outside the door, preening like a peacock. “Of course Gaylen pursued me! After all, I’m young and pretty, unlike some people who are old and unwanted.” “And shamelessly chase after someone else’s boyfriend.”

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The day I won the lottery, my biological parents, who abandoned me years ago, showed up at my door with my younger brother. They asked if I could give the lottery ticket to Leo, my brother, as a wedding gift. I readily agreed, wishing Leo and his fiancée, Isabelle, a lifetime of happiness. My adoptive mother, Eleanor, who was seriously ill and desperately needed that prize money for her treatment, was heartbroken. She lay in bed, sobbing uncontrollably. My adoptive father, Arthur, pointed at me, calling me an ungrateful wretch and threatening to throw me out. Even so, I stubbornly insisted on handing the five-million-dollar winning ticket to Leo, a brother I’d never even met. Leo and my biological parents happily took the ticket to cash it in. But as I watched them leave, I couldn’t help but smile, a look of pity in my eyes. Just as I was about to hand the lottery ticket to Leo, Arthur stopped me. “Chloe, have you forgotten how heartlessly they abandoned you at the train station all those years ago? How you almost got taken by traffickers!” Of course, I hadn’t forgotten. It was Arthur and Eleanor who, without a thought for their own safety, rescued me from the traffickers and brought me home to raise me. Now, Eleanor was gravely ill, tormented by her sickness in bed. But I simply smiled and took my biological parents’ hands. “I’m sure Mom and Dad had an extremely difficult reason back then. Even if they couldn’t keep me, I know they must have thought of me.” Arthur shook his head, pleading with me earnestly, trying to talk some sense into me. “Chloe, you’re being foolish. If they truly cared about you, why didn’t they ever look for you all these years? And now, the moment you win the lottery, they show up? Isn’t their motive obvious?” Valerie draped an arm over my shoulder, looking at Arthur with undisguised disdain. “Chloe is my flesh and blood. Our hearts are connected, a bond that your words can’t possibly break. As for you two, didn’t you just raise my daughter because your own child died, hoping she’d take care of you in your old age? You’re always so petty and self-serving. It’s no wonder your own child couldn’t wait to escape your household.” Arthur closed his eyes in pain, struggling to hold back from striking her. He was too stunned to even argue. Years ago, Arthur and Eleanor’s biological daughter was killed. They spent every penny they had on lawyers to fight the case. During their toughest times, they were so poor they could barely afford food. But even then, they never once mistreated me, their adopted daughter. Yet here I was, watching them being vilified without a word, and ignoring their protests to give that lottery ticket to my biological brother. What surprised me was that after taking the ticket, Leo suddenly fixated on the bracelet on my wrist. “My fiancée, Isabelle, isn’t here, but as her older sister, preparing a welcome gift for your future sister-in-law isn’t too much to ask, right? I think this bracelet would be perfect.” Valerie’s gaze also landed on my gold bracelet. She chimed in, supporting her precious son, “Oh, yes, it’s beautiful! Perfect as a gift, very classy. Go on, take it off and give it to your brother.” This bracelet was a gift from Arthur and Eleanor for my eighteenth birthday. They had spent several years’ worth of savings on it. They told me that if I ever encountered an emergency and needed money, this bracelet would be there for me. Now, with Eleanor’s sudden illness, selling it would cover her surgery and follow-up treatments. Seeing them eye the bracelet, Arthur quickly grabbed my hand, even kneeling to beg me. “Don’t give it away! We have no savings left. Your mom is counting on this bracelet to save her life. It’s our last resort!” Arthur’s voice trembled, but I remained expressionless. “Since the bracelet was given to me, how I choose to deal with it is my own business.” With that, I smoothly removed the bracelet and personally handed it to Leo. “We share the same blood; we are family, the closest kind. This bracelet is a small token from your older sister. I wish you and Isabelle a happy marriage and a lifetime of love.”

Valerie burst out laughing, pleased that her objective was achieved. She and Marcus left first. Leo, however, suddenly changed his expression, looking at me with undisguised triumph. “Mom was right, you really are as dumb as a rock. Did you truly believe Mom and Dad never looked for you all these years? You don’t know, do you? After high school, you actually got into a prestigious university. It was my mom who deliberately found Ashley to impersonate you and steal your academic spot. She intercepted your admission letter, making you believe you failed and didn’t get in.” Arthur’s brows furrowed in anger, his eyes wide with shock. “What did Chloe ever do wrong? Why would you do that to her? As Chloe’s biological mother, how could Valerie be so cruel?” Leo folded his arms, scoffing at me with disdain. “Why else? Mom just couldn’t stand you being better than me, couldn’t stand you succeeding. She wanted to prove that abandoning you all those years ago was the best decision she ever made.” Meeting Leo’s taunting gaze, my expression remained blank, but my fingers involuntarily curled, my heart shattering into pieces. Proof? Those two light words denied not just all my efforts in high school, but my entire life. When I didn’t receive my admission letter back then, I blamed myself so much that I became depressed. On one hand, I felt I had disappointed my parents’ expectations, and on the other, I endured the cold ridicule of relatives and friends. But the family’s financial situation at the time didn’t allow me to repeat a year, so that incident became an eternal pain in my heart. Arthur tried to snap me out of it, gritting his teeth as he said, “Chloe, they treated you like this, and you still think ‘blood ties’ are everything? Wake up, child. They don’t deserve to be your parents!” I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. Yet, the expression on my face remained unchanged, still that stubborn, misguided look. “Regardless, Mom’s suffering from carrying me for ten months is not fake. And their coming to find me today shows they still care about me. If they ask me for anything, let alone a bracelet or a lottery ticket, I’d even go to hell and back for them!” Eleanor wept, her eyes swollen, her sobs filled with utter disappointment. Arthur slapped me, his hand trembling with rage, threatening to throw me out of the house. Several neighbors, who had been eavesdropping at the door, couldn’t help but sigh. “Oh, I always thought Chloe was such a filial child. Who knew she’d be so cold-hearted towards her adoptive parents?” “Exactly. I even heard her confidently say she’d make her parents proud and give them a good life. Turns out she meant her biological parents.” “Those two worked themselves to the bone to raise her, and now that Mom’s so sick, she just sits back and does nothing? What a completely ungrateful wretch!”

The doctor said surgery within a week was the best course of action. To earn money, Arthur started frantically looking for odd jobs. At noon, I went to the construction site and saw him carrying a huge sack of cement on his back. The grimace on his face told me his old back injury had flared up again. Under the blazing sun, his clothes were soaked with sweat, and his skin was peeling from the sunburn. In an instant, tears streamed down my face. I ran toward him, wanting to help, but just then, a steel plate above us suddenly loosened. As it crashed down, Arthur, with lightning-fast reflexes, pulled me out of the way. We were safe, but another worker wasn’t so lucky. He was rushed to the hospital and diagnosed with a severe, crippling injury. That evening, Arthur was suddenly called in by his supervisor for questioning about the incident. It turned out that during the investigation, several of the other workers had unanimously claimed the accident was due to Arthur’s negligence, presenting their story convincingly. Unfortunately, that spot was a blind spot for the security cameras, and no matter how Arthur tried to explain, no one believed him. This meant we wouldn’t just lose his wages; we’d also face a massive compensation claim. Eleanor’s surgery funds were still up in the air, and now this happened. The family was suffocating under the pressure. Arthur’s hair turned white overnight. A kind neighbor earnestly advised me to get the lottery ticket back. “Even if they’re your adoptive parents, with no blood relation, they’ve treated you exceptionally well all these years! You can honor your biological parents in a different way. Your family’s situation is dire right now; you have to take care of yourselves first, don’t you?” Arthur and Eleanor also looked at me expectantly, placing their last hope in me. “Yes, Chloe, the money we’re using now is basically borrowed from you. We can write an IOU. We’ll definitely pay you back slowly, okay?” How could I not know that getting the winning lottery ticket back would resolve all the difficulties our family was facing? But even at this point, I still shook my head, appearing unwilling to listen. The neighbor sighed, calling me heartless and beyond saving. “You’re utterly impossible to reason with! Oh, you two would have been better off raising a dog than this daughter. All that money for her education and upbringing was completely wasted.” Arthur and Eleanor’s gazes dimmed. Deeply disappointed in me, they both broke down in tears. Yet, despite the neighbor’s urging for them to disown me, they consistently refused. They said that no matter what I did, I would always be their daughter.

My nose stung, and I fought hard to keep the tears from falling. They didn’t understand. The lottery ticket could never be taken by me directly; Valerie had to give it to me willingly. Only then could I prevent the tragedy of my previous life from repeating itself. During this time, our family had become the talk and laughingstock of the neighborhood. Everyone sighed with regret for my parents, who had raised such a heartless ingrate. Watching the many white hairs that had appeared on my parents overnight, I clenched my fists, finally unable to bear it. “Dad, Mom, do you… trust me?” Arthur and Eleanor exchanged glances. After a few seconds of hesitation, they finally nodded, a flicker of doubt in their eyes. My eyes welled up, and I gripped their hands tightly, telling them firmly that they needed to wait three more days. It was currently a long public holiday, and the lottery agency was closed, so no one could cash in a ticket. This gave me the perfect opportunity to execute my plan. If all went well, in three days, Valerie would regret her actions. This time, I would protect my family and make those who had hurt me and my loved ones pay! Time flew by. Three mornings later, there was a sudden knock on our door. I subtly curved my lips. She’s here, just as expected. I opened the door calmly. Valerie, looking incredibly eager, pushed the lottery ticket into my hand and said the words I had already predicted: “Chloe, this lottery ticket is yours. You absolutely must keep it safe! Cash it in as soon as the holiday is over. And remember, no matter what, don’t let your father, Marcus, or your brother, Leo, get their hands on it, okay?” She seemed to be in a hurry to do something else, tossing out those two sentences before rushing away. Arthur and Eleanor, after confirming the lottery ticket in my hand hadn’t been swapped, widened their eyes in astonishment. They simply couldn’t believe that someone like Valerie would suddenly have a change of heart. I smiled faintly, telling them Valerie hadn’t truly repented. Then, word by word, I revealed the hidden truth from my previous life.

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My brother tried to kill me. The moment my mom stepped forward to help him, I gave up fighting. Later, he had plastic surgery to look exactly like me, and sat in my bedroom, waiting for my wife to return. My parents hoped he and my wife would live happily ever after, enjoying all the wealth and glory. I just laughed, because they had no idea how terrifying the woman before them truly was. Today was Seraphina’s day to return home. She’d been overseas for over two months, and I’d been dead for a week. My brother, Julian Smith, stood up nervously as Seraphina walked through the door. “Seraphina, have you had dinner yet? I asked the kitchen to prepare your favorite creamy pumpkin soup.” This was supposed to be their first meeting. But Seraphina didn’t notice that her husband had been swapped. Julian had really outdone himself, getting surgery to look exactly like me, from head to toe. Seraphina handed her suitcase to the butler, Carlsen, and rubbed her temples. “Alright, a little bit would be nice.” Julian forced a natural smile, meticulously mimicking my every expression and gesture from the stolen videos. He followed Seraphina into the dining room. “Martha, serve the soup to Seraphina.” Seraphina paused at his words, glancing back at Julian. We had a butler and maids, but I usually preferred to do many things myself. After all, I was just lounging around at home. Even after living in this city for nearly two years, I still wasn’t used to casually bossing people around. Before marrying Seraphina, I’d always lived in our small hometown. The one who was originally supposed to marry Seraphina was Julian. Our two families used to be old acquaintances, and Seraphina’s family was once a prominent name in the local business circles. Both grandfathers, seeing a grandson and granddaughter of suitable age, had arranged a marriage. Twenty years ago, after both elders passed away, Seraphina’s family fell victim to corporate machinations. Seraphina’s father brought up the engagement again, hoping the Smith family would offer a helping hand. But my father, Richard, had already been swayed by several other business groups. He decided to seize the opportunity to acquire Seraphina’s family’s assets, completely disregarding their past friendship. Seraphina’s family went bankrupt, Seraphina’s father died from depression, and Seraphina’s mother, with her daughter and the old butler, moved far overseas. Two years ago, Seraphina returned with the Ascendant Group, an unstoppable force from abroad, striking a heavy blow to several major local business empires. Not a single person who had kicked Seraphina’s family while they were down or participated in their downfall managed to escape. They were either buried under crippling debt with no hope of recovery, or facing irrefutable evidence that sent them straight to prison. Financial ruin was the norm. People in the business world whispered privately that it was a good thing she’d returned to a society governed by law; they had long heard whispers of Seraphina’s methods in regions with looser regulations overseas. When the Smith Corporation was on the verge of bankruptcy, my father, Richard, remembered the old engagement. Julian, terrified of Seraphina’s revenge, threw a huge tantrum at home, forcing me to return from our hometown to take his place in the marriage. Businesspeople often have a touch of superstition, and my dad was especially prone to it. On the day Julian was born, my dad smoothly sealed a major contract that elevated the Smith Corporation to new heights. On the day I was born, a newly acquired project of his was exposed for severe issues, shrinking the Smith Corporation’s assets by nearly half. He firmly believed Julian brought him good fortune, while I cursed him. If my grandfather hadn’t fought with his last breath to protect me, I probably wouldn’t have survived back then. So, he publicly announced that I was frail and sent me abroad for treatment. But in reality, I was dumped in the countryside, where they found a lonely old man, Grandpa Charles, to raise me. Grandpa Charles, who raised me, felt sorry for me and took good care of me, but I still died in the prime of my youth.

Julian snapped out of it, softening his voice. “I’ve been a bit dizzy these past couple of days; I was afraid I’d spill the soup.” Seraphina watched him intently for a few moments. Julian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. I saw a flicker of panic in his eyes. Ha, how ironic. That night, when he plunged the knife into me, he struck swiftly and viciously, as if terrified I wouldn’t die. Julian, guilt-ridden, quickly changed his tone. “I’ll go to the kitchen and get it for you.” Seraphina turned away and walked into the dining room. “No need. If you’re not feeling well, get some extra rest.” I froze. In the two years we’d lived together, I’d never heard her say such a thing to me. Now that I was dead, I finally heard these rare words. It was strange, though. My constitution wasn’t particularly strong, but aside from when I first moved into Seraphina’s home, I rarely fell ill for a whole year. Having shared a bed for two years, I gathered my courage and floated close to her ear, calling her name. I wanted her to go to the Smith family and bring my body out. After Grandpa Charles passed away, there was no one left in the world for me to care about. Even though I died with resentment, I also felt exhausted by life. The freezer was too cold. My body always ran cold anyway, and I just wanted to find a sunny spot to rest. Besides, when I died, I heard them discussing how to dispose of my body, to get rid of it later. Just hearing it made me scared. If I didn’t have a whole body, I might as well have completely vanished in the first place. Even cremation would be better; at least it would preserve my last shred of dignity. Unfortunately, she showed no reaction. She even picked up her spoon and began to drink the soup. “I hear you’ve been out quite a lot recently?” My eyes lit up at the question. Besides the Smith family, I didn’t know anyone else in this city. On my wedding day, my parents had told me that if I didn’t want Grandpa Charles to be left uncared for, I had to do my best to please Seraphina. As long as the Smith Corporation was stable, Grandpa Charles’s life would never be disrupted. They also said that a son who left home was like spilled water; I shouldn’t bother coming back often. So, after I entered Seraphina’s house, apart from occasional walks or trips to the grocery store, I hardly interacted with the outside world. No wonder Seraphina found it odd. Julian obediently replied, “The temperature has been fluctuating a lot lately, morning and evening. My parents haven’t been feeling too well, so I went back to check on them.” Mentioning my parents, I was reminded of the scene when he tried to kill me. I struggled fiercely to defend myself. My mom, Eleanor, worried I might hurt Julian, rushed forward with my dad, Richard, and restrained me. In that moment, all strength suddenly left my body, and I let the sharp blade fall. Seraphina saw this but said nothing, only remarking blandly, “Staying at home can be stifling. It’s good to get out.” I felt a little disheartened. How could Seraphina, such a cautious and suspicious person, not notice anything amiss? And she even said things she had never said to me. On our wedding day, my parents had smiled ingratiatingly at Seraphina. They told Seraphina that my presence in her family was meant to atone for the Smith family’s sins. She could vent her anger however she pleased; I would endure any beating or scolding without complaint, and the Smith family would never interfere. Seraphina didn’t actually treat me as a punching bag, but she didn’t seem very keen on socializing. So, apart from our private moments, we didn’t interact much. After finishing the soup, they both returned to the bedroom. Julian watched Seraphina, who had finished washing up, and sat on the bed, looking expectant. Seraphina moved closer to him. Her phone rang. She hung up and began changing her clothes. I wasn’t surprised; she was probably heading to the office to deal with an urgent matter. A flicker of annoyance crossed Julian’s face, but he instantly replaced it with a gentle expression as Seraphina turned her head. “Your cologne is too strong. You were fine the way you were before.” Julian watched Seraphina turn and leave, then paused, quickly lifting his wrist and neck to sniff. He found he couldn’t smell anything at all.

Julian quickly called Martha, the butler, into the bedroom. “Martha, can you smell any cologne or other scents on me?” Martha leaned close to Julian’s neck and wrist, sniffing. “I don’t smell anything particular, sir. Just a fresh scent of shampoo on your hair.” Julian frowned, pacing the room a few steps, then asked, “When you used to take care of him, what did he smell like?” Martha thought for a moment. “He didn’t have any particular smell, I think. He wasn’t very particular about personal care products; he rarely used the things in the bathroom cabinet. He always seemed very clean, with hardly any scent.” Martha was someone my mother, Eleanor, had arranged to join Seraphina’s household six months ago. Eleanor claimed I didn’t know how to ‘manage a marriage,’ and Martha, supposedly skilled in handling domestic affairs, was there to ‘assist’ me. The shift in the Smith family’s attitude toward me had given me a fleeting, unrealistic hope. Even though Martha never truly helped me after she arrived. It still allowed me to hold onto a glimmer of fantasy about family affection. But later I learned that the moment Martha appeared before me, it was the first step in the Smith family’s plan to have Julian replace me. Martha’s arrival at Seraphina’s house was purely to observe my daily habits and secretly film videos for Julian to mimic me. Hearing Martha’s subtle jab at me, Julian’s lips curved into a smile. “Not only was he born poor, but he was also destined for a short life.” A hint of confusion crossed Martha’s face. “Short-lived?” Julian’s smile faltered, and he quickly rattled off the rehearsed story. “His health was always poor. That old man who raised him kept saying he needed to take him to see a doctor, always finding ways to get more money from my parents.” “Always asking for money! And that boy, so timid and always doing everything himself, made it inconvenient for me to even order the servants around.” I angrily rushed forward, but it was useless; I just passed right through his body. The Smith family only provided a meager allowance for the first few years; after that, there was nothing. Grandpa Charles raised me through his own frugality. They only remembered me when they needed someone to take the fall. Martha began to offer Julian advice. “Perhaps you could try using the shampoo from the master bathroom more often? It might be that the brand you used to prefer had a longer-lasting scent, and the smell hasn’t completely dissipated.” “Leo isn’t particular about such things; he just used whatever the house purchased. Naturally, he wouldn’t pay attention to these details like you do.” Julian pressed his lips together, grumbling impatiently, “I use it every day! How can there still be a residue? Fine, I’ll wash my hair again later.” Julian dismissed Martha, then made a phone call. “Madame Celeste, you’ve got Leo’s spirit confined, right?” I floated close to the phone, hearing the reply. “Rest assured, I’ve suppressed him with a binding ritual; he won’t even have a chance to cross over to the other side!” A binding ritual, huh? I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, floating around the room. I still didn’t know why I was tethered to Julian, but would a real medium be so obsequious? Her tone sounded more like she was terrified of losing a client.

Seraphina didn’t return for a few days. Julian waited until eight in the evening. Looking at the table full of dishes that I loved, I felt a pang of nostalgia. To say Seraphina and I had nothing in common wouldn’t be accurate. When it came to food, our preferences were surprisingly similar. Julian only ate some salad and a bit of roasted chicken before putting down his knife and fork. He was always very strict about his physique, and his appetite was probably only half of mine. He was not only particular about ingredients but also strictly controlled his dinner to be before six o’clock. Grandpa Charles said health was most important, but also to eat enough, so I never deliberately dieted. The chef’s vanilla-roasted lamb chops were divine! Just looking at them made my mouth water. Julian had no idea what he was missing. Seraphina also stopped eating, looking at Julian. “Not to your taste?” Julian offered a gentle smile. “I haven’t had much appetite lately.” Seraphina looked at him, and after a long moment, said, “Carlsen told me that while I was away, your appetite was much better than before. So, I come back, and suddenly you can’t eat?” Julian looked at Seraphina’s expressionless face, shaking his head repeatedly. “My appetite hasn’t been good for days. Maybe it’s the hot weather, I just don’t feel like eating.” Seraphina lowered her gaze, then said after a moment, “Dizzy and no appetite? I’ll take you to the hospital for a check-up tomorrow.” Julian instinctively wanted to refuse but finally agreed with a smile. I knew he thought that as long as it wasn’t a check for plastic surgery traces, he had nothing to fear. After all, only the three of them knew I was gone.

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My free tutoring initiative, run in my spare time, helped half the kids in our neighborhood get into excellent middle schools. But then, their parents put me on blast online, trashing me with “free stuff is garbage, she ruined our children’s future.” They ganged up, reported me for unauthorized tutoring, and forced me to apologize publicly. My school called me in, my superiors issued a warning, and my reputation was in tatters. I immediately shut down the tutoring program, then turned around and accepted a jaw-dropping offer from an international school. The next day, staring at quotes of thousands of dollars for a single course from private tutoring agencies, And posters of award-winning teachers at the entrance of the international school, all the parents were stunned. My zero-cost community tutoring program quietly opened its doors in the neighborhood activity room. No advertising, no enrollment drives—just a few students whose grades had plummeted and whose families were genuinely struggling. I used my evenings and weekends to help them with homework and review key concepts. At first, not many kids came, and their parents were overwhelmingly grateful. “Ms. Jenkins, you’re an angel. You’ve helped us so much.” “Seriously, private tutors charge like $80 an hour these days. We just can’t afford it.” “We’re leaving our kids in your capable hands, thank you for all your hard work!” They’d drop their kids off every afternoon, sometimes bringing a fruit basket or some milk. I never accepted anything, but my heart felt warm. One Friday evening, Brenda Peterson dropped off her son, Dylan. “Ms. Jenkins, our Dylan is here to join the fun, get a feel for the learning environment.” I hesitated. “Brenda, my main goal was to help families who are genuinely struggling financially…” Her son, Dylan, was in my regular class too, and his grades were just average. But her family was well-off. They lived in the biggest penthouse in the building and drove a Porsche. She cut me off, shoving a beautifully wrapped fruit basket into my arms. “Oh, come on, we’re all neighbors here, why be so formal? Dylan joining will actually be a great motivator for the other kids, right?” With her putting it that way, I found it hard to refuse again. Brenda dropped Dylan off punctually every day but never helped him study. She’d just sit in the back, scrolling on her phone, watching videos with the volume blaring. One time, I couldn’t take it anymore and politely asked her to keep it down. She immediately scowled. “Ms. Jenkins, what’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying I’m disturbing your class?” “I’m just here to observe exactly *how* you teach. Don’t think you can use my son as some kind of experiment.” I smiled, trying to explain. “That’s not what I meant at all. I just want to maintain a quiet learning environment.” She scoffed, saying nothing more. But that very evening, our neighborhood SnapChat group blew up. Brenda had sent a long series of voice messages in the group. “Seriously, everyone, you’re all so trusting, just leaving your kids with some *free* tutor?” “Does anyone really believe in a free lunch? How good can something free actually be? What’s her angle, really?” “I figured it out today. That Ms. Jenkins? She just babbles, completely unprofessional.” “She’s probably just using the ‘free’ gimmick to lure us in, get all our kids’ info, and then, bam, she’ll start charging next, right?” A few sarcastic comments were all it took to ignite the doubts in other parents. “Brenda’s got a point. How could something this good be true? It’s gotta be a scam.” “Exactly! I’ve felt uneasy for a while. What professional teacher offers free tutoring after hours? She definitely has an agenda.” “My kid said Ms. Jenkins even checks her phone for notes sometimes during class. Is that ‘professional’?” I watched the messages flood the group, my hands and feet turning icy cold. The parent who claimed I checked my phone for notes—that was when his son asked a competitive math problem, and I needed to quickly confirm the latest solution methods. I started typing out an explanation in the group. “Dear parents, I started this tutoring program asking for nothing in return, only wanting to do something beneficial for the children. As for checking my phone, it was to provide the most accurate answers.” Brenda immediately replied. “Well, well, Sarah’s finally showing her face! Trying to explain things away, are we? Don’t insult our intelligence.” “If you’re such a saint, why aren’t you volunteering at a shelter or something? Why are you trying to play Mother Teresa with *our* kids?” Another parent chimed in. “Exactly! Our kids’ time is so precious. What if you screw them up? Can you take responsibility for that?” I looked at that parent’s profile picture, a sharp pain in my chest. It was his child whose school fees were short last semester, and I’d helped cover them. Now, he was turning around and accusing me of harming his child. I couldn’t argue with them. I could only watch helplessly as Brenda fueled the flames in the group. She even secretly created a “Parents Against Sarah” group and pulled in every parent who had sent their child to my tutoring program. They schemed in that group about how to confront me, how to expose my “true colors.” It all felt so absurd, so ridiculous.

That weekend, tutoring class was still on. Not a single child was missing, but the parents’ eyes had changed. They scrutinized me with suspicious, judgmental stares. Brenda, emboldened, sat right in the front row, recording me on her phone. “Go on, Ms. Jenkins, keep teaching! I’m recording this so we can all ‘learn’ too. Let’s see how much ‘value’ this free class actually has.” Her antics made the children so nervous they couldn’t concentrate. I took a deep breath and walked up to her. “Brenda, please don’t do this. It’s distracting the children.” “Distracting?” She raised her voice. “I’m collecting evidence! What if you teach them wrong and lead my son astray? Who would I turn to then?” “If you have nothing to hide, why are you afraid of me recording?” As soon as her voice faded, a timid voice spoke from the doorway. “Ms. Brenda, Ms. Jenkins teaches really well. I got a 95 on my math test this time, and I used to fail.” It was Chloe, a particularly shy girl, and one of the first students I ever helped. Brenda glanced at her, then sneered. “What do you know, little girl? Maybe the teacher just leaked the answers to you beforehand.” Chloe’s face flushed crimson, tears welling in her eyes. My anger finally burst. “Brenda, get out!” “What? Did I hit a nerve? Are you angry because I spoke the truth?” Brenda shoved her phone’s camera right into my face. “Everyone, look! This so-called ‘caring teacher’ is about to get violent!” “You won’t let me record, huh? Fine.” She put away her phone, grabbed Dylan, and started heading out. “We’re leaving. Who knows what your real intentions are.” The other parents exchanged uneasy glances, then one by one, they also stood up and left with their children. In less than five minutes, the bustling activity room was empty, except for Chloe and me. Chloe walked over, tugging at my sleeve, and whispered. “Teacher, don’t be sad. I believe in you.” I patted her head. Worst case scenario, I just wouldn’t run this tutoring program anymore. That very night, however, an article titled “Exposing a Scumbag Teacher: The Filthy Dealings Hidden Behind Free Tutoring!” went viral on local forums and social media. The post featured photos of me teaching, taken from incredibly manipulative angles. One showed me looking at my phone, captioned: “Completely unprepared for class, just Googling answers on the fly. Seriously unprofessional.” Another showed me pointing at the whiteboard, my expression serious, captioned: “Flies off the handle, verbally abusing students.” And yet another, me holding Chloe’s hand to comfort her, was spun into: “Physically aggressive with a parent, completely out of line.” The poster was, of course, Brenda. In her post, she claimed I used the guise of “free” tutoring to pave the way for my own expensive private classes. She also accused me of being irresponsible, ruining children’s futures, and even hinted that I had mental issues and a violent streak. The unsuspecting people in the comments section were easily swayed by her. “Teachers these days have no morals, they’ll do anything for money.” “How can someone like this be a teacher? The School Board needs to investigate this immediately!” “Free? Ha, you know what they say: there’s no such thing as a free lunch—it’s always the most expensive in the long run. She’s clearly playing a long game.” “Poster, hurry up and dox her! We need her address and phone number to teach her a lesson.” Then, my phone number, home address, and workplace were all dug up. From that dawn onward, my phone didn’t stop ringing. Harassing calls came one after another, all filled with insults and curses. “You fake, manipulative witch, why don’t you just die?” “Stay away from our kids, you menace!” People also started gathering outside my door, banging and yelling the most vile obscenities. What chilled me even more was seeing familiar profile pictures among the overwhelming online abuse. “I knew something was off about her, glad we pulled our kids out early.” “Right? Who knows what her intentions were. Gives me chills just thinking about it now.” These were the same parents who had once been so grateful to me, the ones I had genuinely tried to help.

The next day, I got a call from my principal. “Ms. Jenkins, maybe you should take some time off. Don’t come to school for a while.” “The public outcry online is just too much, and it’s not good for your reputation.” Then, a call came from the District Superintendent. A stern male voice on the other end warned me: “Ms. Jenkins, your unauthorized tutoring program is a clear violation of district policy. Considering this is your first offense, we’re issuing a warning. A repeat offense will result in immediate termination of your teaching license.” I hung up, slumping to the floor, utterly drained. Just then, my phone chimed again. It was a text from Brenda. “Ms. Jenkins, tomorrow afternoon at 3 PM, at the community center. The parents are holding an ‘action meeting,’ and you *must* be there to give us a public explanation.” “Don’t even think about hiding. Otherwise, we can’t guarantee what actions we might take.” I stared at the threatening text, my vision blurring. The next afternoon, not wanting things to escalate further, I went. The community activity room was packed. Those once familiar faces, now twisted with a sickening sense of triumph. Brenda sat right in the middle. Seeing me enter, a victorious smile spread across her face. She stood up, cleared her throat, and addressed everyone. “See, everyone? Sarah Jenkins showed up. That proves she’s guilty, she knows she messed up.” As soon as she finished, a parent stood up and pointed at me. “Ms. Jenkins, you have to apologize for your behavior. You wasted our children’s precious study time!” “Yeah, apologize!” “And compensate us! For our emotional distress, for the time our kids missed. How do you plan to pay for that?” “Exactly! You *must* pay us back!” Brenda walked up to me, looking down. “Ms. Jenkins, did you hear that? The public isn’t blind.” “Today, in front of everyone, you need to admit your mistakes and give us a satisfactory answer.” She thrust a microphone towards me, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “Go on, we’re all listening.” She had started a live stream, and on the phone screen, comments scrolled rapidly. “Support the parents! Kick this crooked teacher out!” “Finally willing to admit defeat? Why didn’t she do it sooner?” Brenda impatiently urged. “Come on, hurry up. Stop playing dumb.” I raised my eyes, my gaze sweeping across every person in the room. “You’re right. I was wrong.” Brenda and the parents’ faces lit up with smug satisfaction, thinking I was finally going to give in. “My mistake was…” I paused, scanning the room. “My mistake was treating you with respect.” Brenda’s face turned a furious shade of crimson. “What did you say?” “You wanted an explanation, didn’t you?” “Fine, I’ll give you one.” I picked up a marker and walked to the whiteboard near the activity room entrance. “By popular demand, the zero-cost community tutoring program is officially and permanently closed, effective today.” I finished writing the last four words, capped the marker with a definitive click, and turned to face the stunned crowd. Brenda was the first to react, rushing towards me, absolutely furious. “Sarah Jenkins, are you screwing with us?!” “Closed? You just decide to close it? You think you can just walk away?” “You *have* to tutor all our kids every day! That’s how this works!” “You never taught them properly before, wasting so much of their precious study time. You need to make up for that time, and *double* it!” “Exactly! You messed up our kids’ grades, and now you just want to cut and run? No way!” “You *must* keep it open, and you need to extend the hours, tutor our kids for free until they get into college!” The other parents chimed in, their voices growing increasingly agitated. I looked coldly at this group of people, their true colors fully exposed, and was about to speak. Just then, the roar of a car engine suddenly came from outside the activity room. The car door opened, and a middle-aged man in a suit, accompanied by a driver, quickly entered. He walked straight through the crowd, came up to me, and handed me a beautifully printed offer letter. “Ms. Jenkins, I’ve heard so much about you.” “I’m Harrison Vance, the Headmaster of Bo Ya International Academy.” “Our school is honored to offer you the position of Lead Educator and Curriculum Director, with an annual salary of three million dollars, to oversee curriculum development and teacher training for the entire academy.”

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My arrogant roommate, Brandon, got himself a wealthy girlfriend and has been targeting me ever since. He didn’t just steal my scholarship; he even rallied a whole crowd to cyberbully me. “Look at Mr. Number One in the department! His classmate’s family needs money, but he won’t even donate a dime. My girlfriend’s family, on the other hand, donated a million!” I was speechless. I was the one who anonymously donated a million. Brandon wasn’t satisfied. He brought his girlfriend over to show off. Wait, what? Isn’t that my house manager? When did she start driving my luxury car to pick up guys? My roommate, Brandon, recently started dating a rich girl, and he wouldn’t stop bragging about her in the dorm. “Check it out, isn’t this Richard Mille watch she just gave me super cool?” Brandon deliberately lifted his wrist, flashing the gleaming watch under the lights. “Holy crap, that’s gotta be hundreds of thousands, right? Your girlfriend really spoils you!” “Seriously! Brandon, does your girlfriend have any single friends? Hook us up!” My roommates crowded around Brandon, showering him with envy, puffing him up with their compliments. Brandon casually lent a few pairs of his limited-edition sneakers to them for a few days, making them even more grateful and their flattery even louder. I was quietly coding nearby, not participating, which made Brandon frown. “Leo, what do you think of my watch? This is a limited edition, way better than your plain old watch, right?” I glanced at the watch on Brandon’s wrist and immediately recognized it as a high-quality replica. Meanwhile, the ‘plain old watch’ on my own wrist was a Patek Philippe limited edition, albeit a discreet one. Seeing Brandon’s smug face, I didn’t have the heart to crush his ego. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. My watch is definitely basic.” Brandon looked incredibly pleased; his frown smoothed out. He walked over and slammed my laptop shut. “I’m not trying to be rude, Leo, but you really need to get some decent clothes. Otherwise, you look really shabby standing next to me.” I was a bit speechless. We all knew about Brandon’s family situation – average working-class. He used to wear fast fashion from online stores. How could he forget who he was just because he got a girlfriend? I nodded dismissively, trying to recall where I’d left off in my code. My roommate, David, walked up to Brandon and clapped him on the shoulder affectionately. “Don’t bother with him, Brandon. You two are just not on the same level. Let’s play some games tonight, and you can tell me more about you and your girlfriend.” Brandon glanced at her, raising his voice, “No can do, I have a date with my girlfriend tonight.” A brief flicker of disappointment crossed David’s eyes. “At some fancy restaurant, I bet? Don’t forget to post on Ins!” Brandon didn’t say anything else. He spent ages messing with his hair in the mirror, then put on the most expensive designer streetwear jacket from his closet, strutting out like a proud peacock. That evening, I was eating takeout in the dorm when I heard David shriek, holding her phone. “Brandon just posted on Ins! French restaurant, foie gras, caviar, red wine… Oh my god!” A group of roommates crowded around to see the post. David, however, shot a dismissive look at me, still eating my takeout. Her voice was tinged with scorn. “Some people are on dates with rich socialites, wearing custom suits, while others are stuck eating thirty-dollar takeout. The difference between people is just wild, isn’t it?” I paused, looking at my delicious spicy stir-fry. What’s wrong with eating takeout? Why does he care so much? Seeing I didn’t react, David shoved her phone directly in my face. “Look, this is Brandon’s Ins post. He and his girlfriend look so perfect together.” I glanced at the photo and immediately perked up. The ‘rich socialite’ Brandon was cuddling in the picture was actually Sarah, my house manager! My dad won the lottery unexpectedly, which gave him his first big break to start his business. After that, his investments soared, snowballing into a massive fortune, and before he knew it, he was one of the wealthiest men in the city. In high school, my family driver would pick me up in different luxury cars every day, and even the clothes I wore under my school uniform were the latest international designer pieces. I was constantly subjected to envious and jealous stares, and then… I nearly got kidnapped. That incident terrified my dad. After I got my university acceptance letter, he repeatedly told me to keep a low profile. Even though he bought me a villa near the campus, he still insisted on the low-key approach. So, I ended up living in the dorms, only occasionally going back to the villa on holidays for a change of scenery. The villa came fully staffed: a house manager, a chef, cleaners, gardeners – the works. Sarah, my house manager, is five years older than me. She’s meticulous and thoughtful, keeping the villa running perfectly. Since I usually live in the dorms, I only visit the villa on weekends. Sarah would prepare the clothes and accessories I needed in advance, sometimes even helping me pick out outfits. Even my casual clothes cost four figures. So, when I enrolled, I made an effort to wear plain clothes without obvious logos. But some classmates still recognized the price tag. I had no choice but to claim they were designer knock-offs, not worth much. That’s how I got labeled as vain, someone who wore knock-offs in my classmates’ eyes. Later, I rushed to the mall to buy some cheaper clothes, and the rumors finally died down. I didn’t really care; I came to university to study, and these small incidents wouldn’t affect me. My dad had experienced the disadvantage of not having a higher education in his business circle, so he always told me to study hard from a young age. “Leo, we’re so rich, we’re practically poor… except for all the money! You have to study hard and make Dad proud!” One wall in our house was covered with all the awards and certificates I’d received since childhood. In my dad’s words, these were the real ‘luxury items.’ We even had staff dedicated to maintaining them. Once, when a corner of a certificate peeled off, my dad personally climbed a ladder and carefully glued it back. I came to university with the goal of getting a scholarship every year for all four years. The money itself wasn’t important; it was the invaluable honor. So, I spent most of this year in the library and rarely went to the villa. Looking at Sarah, cradled by Brandon in the photo, the Chanel jacket she wore looked incredibly familiar. Last month, when my mom stayed at the villa, I think she brought a similar one. And the diamond bracelet subtly peeking out from her wrist? It was identical to my mom’s usual Van Cleef & Arpels classic. The floor lamp and the decorative painting on the wall in the background? Those were distinctly from a corner of my villa’s living room! She should be working in my villa right now, not wearing what looked like my mom’s clothes, posing for photos in my living room, and pretending to be a rich girl to date my roommate! I watched my roommates buzzing with excited chatter around Brandon’s Ins post and fell into deep thought.

Brandon returned from his date wearing the latest designer streetwear and carrying a pile of gifts. He unwrapped them one by one, making the roommates incredibly envious. “Brandon, is that jacket a limited edition?” “Wow, those Air Jordans are a collaboration! They must be super expensive. Can I try them on?” “Brandon, I’m so jealous. You were at a Michelin-starred restaurant yesterday, weren’t you?” Brandon’s smile never faded. He subtly glanced at me, then pulled out a leather wallet from one of the bags and held it up to me. “Leo, I remember you have a similar Hermes wallet, don’t you? Why don’t you take it out and we can compare them?” I took off my headphones. Before I could say anything, Brandon already opened my drawer, pulled out my Hermes wallet, and placed the two side by side. I frowned, looking at my rummaged drawer, about to snap at Brandon, when I heard him deliberately raise his voice. “Oh, Leo, how come your wallet looks a bit different from mine?” The difference between the two wallets was obvious when placed together. Brandon’s was brighter in color, with coarser stitching and fewer leather grain details. Seeing the roommates gathered around, Brandon feigned surprise. “How could they be different? This one was a special gift from my girlfriend for our date. What about yours? I remember you brought it from home, right?” David caught on to Brandon’s taunt and immediately jumped in. “Guys, remember when Leo first came to school, he was wearing designer knock-offs? This wallet must be fake too, it can’t compare to Brandon’s at all.” “Leo, you can’t always use fakes. You can’t change your family background, but being so vain and always buying knock-offs will just make you lose sight of reality.” Brandon shot David a satisfied look, then turned to me. “I really don’t want a roommate with such questionable character.” Watching the two of them ganging up on me, I really wanted to shove my receipts in their faces, but remembering Dad’s warning, I reluctantly dropped the idea. “Brandon, you opened my drawer without my permission. Is that what you call ‘good character’? And David, you’re here sucking up to Brandon with thinly veiled jabs at me. You really are a master at flattery.” Brandon sneered, then grabbed the scissors from my desk. “If I hadn’t looked in your drawer, I never would’ve known how vain you are. Tell you what, as roommates, I’ll help you out and cut up this fake wallet. Consider it a favor.” With that, Brandon aimed the scissors at my wallet. David stepped forward and signaled a few other roommates to hold me down. I watched them surround me, not even bothering to lift an eyelid. My tone was casual. “Brandon, I don’t really care. But if you dare touch it, I’ll make sure you pay for it.” “Even if, for argument’s sake, this wallet is a Hermes knock-off, it’s still worth at least a few hundred dollars. Are you sure you can afford to compensate me?” “You just started dating your girlfriend; you wouldn’t want to tell her you ruined your roommate’s stuff and make her pay, would you?” Brandon hesitated, then reluctantly put the scissors down, glared at me, and returned to his seat. The others, seeing Brandon wasn’t doing anything, also dispersed. I hadn’t expected Brandon to be so easily fooled. The cheapest Hermes knock-offs are actually only fifty to a hundred bucks, like the one Brandon had. I gave Brandon a light glance. “Clean up my drawer later.” David immediately snapped, “Leo, don’t go too far!” Brandon deliberately ignored me, humming a tune and styling his hair in the mirror. “Brandon, I’m saying it again. Clean up my drawer.” Brandon scoffed, then leisurely started scrolling on his phone. David also let out a sneer, looking at me provocatively. I stood up abruptly and kicked Brandon’s chair over with a bang. “I won’t say it a third time.” The dorm was full of inexperienced guys who had never seen such a display. They all froze, not daring to make a sound. Even David shut up. Brandon flinched, clenched his fists as if he were the one being wronged. He glared at me for a long moment before reluctantly coming over to clean up my drawer. I heard him mumble a curse word under his breath, tears in his eyes, but I felt nothing. Once he finished, I looked at the neatly organized drawer with satisfaction, walked back to my seat, and began loudly reading an English article. The entire dorm was silent, my reading voice clear and sharp.

I didn’t waste much thought on Brandon, putting all my energy into getting the scholarship. My GPA was the highest in the department for the year, I scored perfectly on the physical fitness test, and I participated in every scholarship-eligible activity. No matter what, the single scholarship spot for the entire department should have been mine. But on the day the scholarship results were announced, I reread the list several times, still unable to believe it. The department had awarded the scholarship to Brandon, his name prominently displayed at the top of the list! And not only did I not get the first-tier scholarship, but my name wasn’t even on the list for the university-level third-tier scholarship! All those sleepless nights of studying, all the sweat from training for the physical test—it all felt like a complete joke now. Fuming and anxious, I immediately checked the detailed information below. I found that all my other entries were perfect, except for personal conduct, where my counselor had given me a failing grade! A wave of anger surged through me, my chest heaved, a mix of confusion and fury. I stormed straight to Ms. Albright’s office. “Ms. Albright, I’m not satisfied with the scholarship results and have some questions for you.” “Come in!” I pushed open the door and was surprised to find Brandon there, sitting nearby, smiling and chatting with Ms. Albright. Seeing me enter, Brandon gloated, “Oh, wow, I never thought I’d be so lucky to get the scholarship this time. It’s too bad you, who usually studies so hard, didn’t get one.” I ignored him and turned directly to Ms. Albright. “Ms. Albright, I want to ask about the scholarship.” “I know what you want to ask,” Ms. Albright adjusted her glasses, looking at me with a cold expression. “Leo, just being good at studies isn’t enough. You don’t get along with your classmates, and your character is questionable, so naturally, I can’t give you the scholarship.” Ms. Albright’s words left me completely baffled. As the class rep for academics, I had always been well-liked in class, and I even lent my notes to classmates before exams. I hadn’t offended anyone, had I? Except for those guys in my dorm! I suddenly looked up at Brandon, catching the guilty look in his eyes. It all clicked. I fought back the urge to punch Brandon and calmly turned to Ms. Albright. “Ms. Albright, if you’re drawing conclusions based on just one side of the story, then I think that’s unfair to me.” “What kind of talk is that?” Ms. Albright slammed her hand on the desk and stood up, frowning and glaring at me. “Are you implying I’m playing favorites, or that I’m an incompetent counselor?” Brandon piped in, piling on. “Ms. Albright, please calm down. Leo just has low character, so you shouldn’t stoop to his level.” I looked at the new Omega watch on Ms. Albright’s wrist and suddenly smiled. “Ms. Albright, that Omega watch you’re wearing, did Brandon give it to you?” With that, I didn’t bother with Ms. Albright’s exposed expression, turned, and walked out. Before closing the door, I stated expressionlessly, “There’s someone above the counselor—the Principal. I won’t believe I can’t get justice.” I heard Ms. Albright scoff, “Go ahead, then. I’m not afraid.” Still in the hallway, I heard my roommates chattering about the scholarship incident. As soon as I walked in, they all fell silent. Only David continued to mock me. “Oh, look, it’s our number one in the department! You studied so hard, didn’t you? How did you not even get a third-tier scholarship?” I ignored her, dialed the number for the Principal’s office listed on the university website, but no one picked up. Frustrated, I opened my laptop and wrote a long email to the Principal. I explained the whole story of the scholarship fiasco, attached relevant evidence, and sent it off. It vanished into the void. I waited for a whole week, from initial hope, to a sliver of expectation, then to utter disappointment. I should have known; the Principal was swamped with work, and my email probably got flagged as spam. Brandon went out on another date, and David couldn’t even be bothered to taunt me about the scholarship anymore. The entire dorm was quiet, but I still felt incredibly wronged and disheartened. My phone rang. I shot up from my chair, only to find it was a message from my dad. “Leo, are you so happy about getting the scholarship that you’ve forgotten your old man? Don’t get arrogant; this is just confirmation of your hard work. Keep it up!” My eyes stung, and tears almost fell. I clutched my phone and walked to an empty corner of the hallway, calling my dad on FaceTime. Seeing my parents’ concerned faces, I finally burst into tears. Dad fumbled awkwardly, and Mom shot him a glare before quickly comforting me. “Leo, don’t cry. What happened? Tell Mom and Dad.” I choked out the full story of the scholarship incident to my parents. Mom immediately blew up, slapping Dad’s shoulder hard. “How dare they bully my son! That counselor doesn’t want her job anymore! Honey, you go talk to the Principal and deal with this. That negligent counselor needs to be fired!” I sobbed, “I emailed and called the Principal, but it was no use. What can Dad do?” Dad scratched the back of his head. “Well, uh, I never told you, but I’m actually a board member of this university…” I stared at my parents, who looked all high and mighty with their wealth. My tears instantly stopped, and I even let out a hiccup. Right after I hung up the FaceTime call with my parents, before I even made it back to the dorm, I received a call directly from the Principal. “Leo, I apologize on behalf of the university. As Principal, I assure you that the university will readjust the scholarship list, and all involved personnel will face appropriate penalties.” I had just reached the dorm. Brandon had returned and was being praised by the roommates. I put the call on speakerphone. “Principal, what kind of punishment will my involved roommate receive?” “According to university regulations, he will face disciplinary action, and the scholarship funds will be reclaimed.” “Okay, thank you.” Before I could hang up, I heard Brandon’s loud sneer. “Leo, you must be crazy with scholarship fever! Where did you find someone to impersonate the Principal? That’s hilarious!” David immediately backed him up. “Seriously, he might even be losing his mind.” The Principal’s voice came through the phone. “May I ask who is speaking?” “That’s my involved roommate.” “Understood. Leo, the updated list will be posted on the official website tomorrow.” With that, the Principal hung up. I glanced at Brandon, who was oblivious to the disaster heading his way, shook my head, and went to bed.

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Everyone knew Liam lived by two unbreakable rules. First, his passenger seat was mine. Second,he recoiled from any woman who dared touch him. A quirk, I’d thought. A strange, endearing flaw that didn’t apply to me. For twenty years, the rules held. I believed in our private language of love. But today, I saw his car outside a boutique. My breath hitched. Maeve was in my seat. She leaned over, kissed him. He didn’t move away. I froze, a chill seeping into my bones. His aversion wasn’t a condition. It was a choice. Even more ridiculous, the woman who’d broken both his rules was the one I’d personally hired for his company. Aria’s POV I stood frozen outside the boutique, a dull ache settling in my chest. I opened my email and typed my reply to Professor Ford: “Yes. I accept.”  Florence it would be. I’d leave the day after graduation. The screen went dark. I lifted my gaze to the shop window. There she was. Maeve, my future sister-in-law, glowing in a white mermaid gown, a circle of admirers around her. And beside her, kneeling to adjust the hem of her dress with a look of pure devotion, was Liam. My brother, by adoption. And the man I had loved for nearly twenty years. Shards of memory cut through me, sharp and unbidden. That year, my first in college, Mrs. Hayes took my hand. She watched Liam come down the stairs, a playful glint in her eye. “You two are so close,” she teased. “People might get ideas! Liam, doesn’t it worry you, what they might think?” Liam crossed the room. His hand came to rest on my head, ruffling my hair in the familiar way he’d done for years. “Let them think what they want,” he said. “I don’t care.” Those words had been the sole belief sustaining my nearly two-decade-long secret crush. I naively thought his indifference was because he’d already planned me into his future. Now, they felt like a slap in the face. The cruelest irony? I’d personally picked Maeve for this job. Liam’s assistant had just resigned, and he’d pushed a few resumes my way. “Help me pick an assistant. Find someone you like, so they don’t bother you.” I was surprised and secretly thrilled. Among several impressive resumes, I immediately chose Maeve. She seemed the most gentle and harmless. I thought it was a special privilege, proof he cared about my feelings. Now I see I was just deluding myself. “Aria? Is that really you!” Maeve spotted me from inside the store, her face instantly beaming with surprise. She hurried over, gathering her gown, and spoke warmly through the glass door. “Come in, Aria! Tell me what you think of this dress. Liam says it’s gorgeous, but I trust your taste more than anyone’s. You have the best eye!” Everyone in the store turned to stare at me. I felt like I was suffocating. I managed a stiff smile, shaking my head. “No thanks, Maeve. I’m actually busy. You two take your time.” Maeve’s smile froze. Her eyes welled up, her lower lip trembling as her voice cracked. “Aria, are you still mad at me? Liam and I are truly in love, and we’re getting engaged soon. I just want your blessing.” Her pitiable act successfully sparked whispers from the onlookers. I was the unreasonable sister, ruining the bride’s special moment. I stood there, nailed to the spot, utterly lost. Just then, Liam walked over, his tall figure casting a shadow over the glaring lights. Maeve instantly reverted to her startled fawn act, cowering behind Liam, whimpering, “Liam, I didn’t mean to. I just wanted Aria to help me pick. She still seems upset about… what happened last time.” Liam’s gaze landed on me, icy and unfamiliar, devoid of any warmth. “Aria,” he began, his voice cold as ice, “How much longer are you going to keep this up?” My heart plummeted. Keep what up? Liam seemed to fear he hadn’t hurt me enough, so he continued, “When you won that photography award and hugged me-I know you were excited. But Maeve saw it, and it gave her the wrong idea.” He paused. “That was just a sister’s dependence and admiration for her brother, nothing else. Aria, you’re not a child anymore. You need to learn to keep an appropriate distance from your brother.” My mind exploded. Not long ago, when no one was around, he would hold me from behind, his chin resting on my head, complaining in an intimate whisper that I smelled of another man’s cologne. In a flash, he’d become the brother warning me to keep my distance. Humiliation burned my cheeks, and my vision swam. I bit down hard on my lip. The metallic taste of blood forced the tears back. I couldn’t cry here. I wouldn’t show weakness in front of them. I lowered my gaze, my voice barely audible. “I’m sorry. I was being childish. I’ll make sure to keep my distance from now on.” I couldn’t stand another second. Muttering an excuse about feeling dizzy, I spun around and fled. Tears fell as I turned. I wandered the streets like a ghost for what felt like an eternity, until the evening wind stung my cheeks. Only then did I pull out my phone, my hands trembling. The screen’s light stung my eyes. I opened the app and booked a flight to Florence for ten days from now.

Aria’s POV Late that night, I returned to the Hayes estate. I tiptoed inside, desperate to avoid everyone. The living room was dim, lit only by a single floor lamp. Just as I reached the stairs, a voice came from the sofa. “You’re back?” My body instantly froze. Maeve rose from the sofa, wearing a silk robe. The neckline was loose, revealing a suggestive hickey on her neck. She strolled closer, her finger tracing the mark. “Liam was… passionate,” she said, her eyes boring into mine. “Men can never resist physical attraction. Don’t you agree, little girl?” My stomach churned. I gave her a frosty glare. “Trashy.” I turned, intending to go upstairs. “Stop!” Maeve’s voice sharpened. She rushed forward, grabbing my arm. “What’s your problem? Jealous?” Just then, the door to the upstairs study opened. Liam appeared at the top of the stairs. Maeve saw him. Her grip on my hand tightened sharply, and a cold, malevolent smile flashed across her face, gone in a blink. The next second, her expression contorted into pure terror. “Ah-” A sharp cry tore from her throat. Her body lurched backward, tumbling down the stairs. “Maeve!” Liam’s face went ashen. He was at her side in an instant, gathering her limp form into his arms. “Liam,” Maeve whispered, her face pale, tears streaming down. She leaned weakly into his embrace. “Don’t blame Aria. She didn’t mean to.” Liam’s head snapped up. His eyes, blazing with fury, pierced me like daggers. “Even if you’re upset, you shouldn’t have pushed her!” There wasn’t a hint of doubt in his voice, only accusation. I opened my mouth, wanting to say I hadn’t. But seeing his eyes, already convicting me, every word caught in my throat. He wouldn’t believe me. “I didn’t,” I finally choked out, my voice raw. Liam scoffed, standing up with Maeve in his arms. He couldn’t even spare me a glance. As he turned, Maeve, cradled in his arms, subtly looked back. She looked at me, frozen in place, and mouthed silently: You lose. … The next day, I went to the magazine office to hand in my resignation. My editor-in-chief looked from me to the signature on my resignation letter. A slow, knowing smile touched her lips. “Big news to announce? Becoming a full-time housewife? Makes sense. Liam always protected you so well. He’d never want you to work too hard.” My heart stung, but I couldn’t form an expression. I silently returned to my desk to pack my things. The receptionist’s assistant ran over, patting my shoulder excitedly. “Aria! Look downstairs! Your fiancé is here to pick you up again! Oh my god, he’s so handsome, you’re so lucky!” I paused, following her gaze. Downstairs, leaning against his familiar sports car, was Liam. Today, he wore a perfectly tailored suit, his tall figure attracting the attention of every passerby.

Aria’s POV I clutched the cardboard box, walking out of the magazine building. The afternoon sun was a bit harsh, and I instinctively squinted. My colleagues, as if on cue, didn’t follow me out. Instead, they waved excitedly from behind the floor-to-ceiling windows, grinning like they were watching a rom-com unfold. In their eyes, this was a romantic gesture. I stopped in front of the car. Liam stubbed out the cigarette between his fingers, then looked up at me, his expression cold. “Liam,” I said, my voice flat. He frowned, correcting me, “Respect.” I scoffed internally but complied. “Right. I’ll remember that.” “I apologize for last night,” he finally said, though his tone held no hint of remorse. “I was too impulsive.” I laughed. Sure enough, his next sentence exposed his “apology” as a mere prelude to a lecture. “But pushing Maeve down the stairs was still wrong,” he said, looking down at me. “Do you honestly not think you did anything wrong?” His twisted version of events made me laugh, a bitter, hollow sound. I looked up, meeting his gaze. “Twenty years,” I said, my voice sharp with anger. “You know me. Do you honestly believe I’d push a pregnant woman down a flight of stairs?” “She wasn’t pregnant,” he said, his tone flat and final. “Just an upset stomach.” My heart plummeted. He either didn’t know he’d been fooled, or he simply didn’t care. Suddenly, everything felt utterly meaningless. “You can go,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion as I looked away. “I’ve resigned. I won’t be coming back here, so your fiancée doesn’t need to waste her energy on me either.” Just then, a few bolder colleagues couldn’t resist. They came closer, smiling. “Oh, Aria, you two aren’t fighting, are you?” “You have to appreciate a man like Liam! He picks you up every single day. Who does that anymore!” “Come on, every couple has spats. Don’t let a silly argument ruin a good thing. Just kiss and make up!” I forced a smile, uglier than a grimace. Liam offered no explanation. Instead, he reached out, straightening a strand of my wind-blown hair with an unnervingly natural gesture. To my colleagues, it was intimate; to me, a stark warning. I abruptly stepped back, avoiding his hand. I turned to my colleagues. “We’re not like that. You’ve misunderstood.” My colleagues’ smiles froze. Clutching the box, I turned and walked away, not looking at Liam’s expression. I’d rented an apartment these past few days and hadn’t returned to the Hayes estate. Back at the apartment, I turned off my phone, trying to numb myself with work. I only switched it back on late that night. The screen lit up, and messages flooded in. Not a single one from Liam. It was a stark contrast to the Liam who would scour the city if he couldn’t reach me for even an hour. I idly opened my social media feed. The first post was from Maeve, thirty minutes ago: a flawless selfie. Around her neck glittered the sapphire necklace, the same one she’d snapped me this very afternoon and retracted. The caption read: “Love the birthday gift from my love! Obsessed! [heart emoji]” The photo’s background was a private room in an upscale restaurant, a birthday cake on the table. My gaze fixed on the necklace. It was Maeve’s birthday today? So, he’d only been at the magazine building to check up on me, and give me a lecture, just passing by. And here I’d thought he’d come specially for me. My phone rang abruptly. It was Mrs. Hayes. “Aria, sweetheart, why aren’t you home yet? I told Liam to pick you up. Did he get you?” Mrs. Hayes’s voice was as loving as ever. “Mrs. Hayes, I’ve moved out. He doesn’t need to pick me up.” “Moved out? What’s going on? Did that rascal Liam upset you?” “No,” I cut her off, not wanting to hear another word about him. “Mrs. Hayes, I’m exhausted. I’m going to hang up now.” I hung up and collapsed onto my bed. Tears silently streamed down, soaking my pillow. I finally understood completely: neither his passenger seat, nor his gifts, nor his future belonged to me anymore. Good. This made leaving so much easier. After a few days of tidying my apartment, I finally steeled myself to go back to the Hayes estate and retrieve my last few things. I used my spare key to open the villa door. The living room was empty. I breathed a sigh of relief, about to go upstairs, but then I bumped into someone on the landing. Maeve was coming out of my bedroom, carrying a suitcase. Seeing me, Maeve showed no surprise, only a provocative smile.

Aria’s POV Maeve stood on the staircase, looking down at me with a condescending gaze. The suitcase she was carrying was a gift from Mrs. Hayes when I graduated college. Now, it was filled with things that weren’t mine, taken from my room. “You’re back?” Maeve’s tone was light and casual. “I thought you’d never step foot in this house again.” My gaze went past her, landing on my half-open bedroom door. The room showed signs of being ransacked. “What are you doing in my room?” My voice was cold as ice. “Your room?” Maeve laughed, a loud, exaggerated sound, as if I’d told the funniest joke. “Aria, are you still half-asleep? This is Liam’s home, and soon it will be mine. Your things should have been cleared out ages ago.” As she spoke, she deliberately slammed the suitcase onto the floor. It wasn’t latched properly, and with a “snap,” it burst open. The contents spilled everywhere. All my photography portfolios, my cherished camera, and lenses. In the very center was a thick photo album. Maeve bent down, picked up the album, and slowly, deliberately, flipped it open. Inside were only photos of Liam. From his awkward teenage years to the mature, composed man he was now. Playing basketball, reading, in meetings, asleep. All sorts of him filled the entire album. These were all the moments I’d secretly captured over twenty years, all his time. “Tsk, tsk,” Maeve murmured, flipping through the pages with a feigned sigh. Her finger traced Liam’s sweat-drenched profile from a basketball game. “This shot is really good. You clearly loved him so much. Too bad, only I get to see him sweat now.” She turned another page, a photo of Liam asleep on the sofa. “And this one,” she continued. “He told me he has insomnia, that he can only truly sleep when he feels completely safe. Guess he didn’t feel safe with you watching him.” My nails dug deep into my palms, as I fought the urge to lunge at her and tear that smug face apart. “Give them back,” I grated out, my voice barely a whisper. “Give them back?” Maeve closed the album, her smile innocent and cruel. “Of course. But Liam said keeping these things would only fuel your delusions. He thinks we should just toss them. For your own good.” With that, she hugged the album, walking step by step down the stairs, towards the fireplace. My heart leaped into my throat. “You wouldn’t dare!” I shrieked. Maeve looked back and smiled at me. “Watch me.” Before I could react, she swung her arm, and the album-the keeper of my entire youthful love-was tossed into the roaring fireplace. Flames instantly leaped up, eagerly devouring those precious photographs. I could almost see his young face in the photos, slowly disintegrating into ash within the flames. “No!” I lunged forward like a madwoman, desperate to rescue the album from the fire. But it was too late. “You psycho!” My eyes bloodshot, I spun around and lunged at Maeve. I just wanted this woman to pay. However, before my hands could even touch Maeve, a powerful grip seized me from behind. Liam had returned, I didn’t know when. He clamped down on my wrist, his grip so fierce it felt like my bones would shatter. “Let me go!” I struggled wildly. “Enough! Aria, how long are you going to keep acting like a madwoman?!” Liam’s furious roar exploded above me. Maeve instantly reverted to her startled fawn act, cowering behind Liam, whimpering, “Liam, I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to help you clear out some things that would upset her. I had no idea she’d react so violently. Does she want to hit me?” “Did I tell you to touch her things?” Liam’s voice, for the first time, held a note of reproach for Maeve. Maeve froze, her tears falling in earnest. “I just…I didn’t want this to be hard for you. The photos…they’re bad for everyone.” Liam’s expression darkened. He looked at me, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. “That doesn’t justify putting your hands on her.” I stopped struggling, letting Liam hold me. My heart had died with that album. “Liam,” I said, my voice unnervingly flat. “You told me to keep my distance. Fine. Then give me back what’s mine. My room. My things. Don’t touch any of it. Once it’s gone, I’ll be gone too. You’ll never see me again.” Liam stared at my hollow eyes, a flicker of unease crossing his face. His grip on my wrist loosened. “Aria, don’t say things you don’t mean.” “I mean every word.” took a step back, reclaiming the space between us. “As of today, I’m not your sister. We’re former roommates. You and your fiancée will stay out of my life.” Liam stood rigid, his face like stone. I turned without another word, walked upstairs, and shut my door. The lock clicked into place with a final, deafening sound.

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Brittany bought a new villa, and with a smug look, she invited all our colleagues to her place for a party. “My husband’s birthday gift to me this year was a villa! I invite all of you for a party this weekend!” Looking at the photos of Brittany’s luxurious mansion, a colleague exclaimed, “That crystal chandelier is absolutely gorgeous!” I leaned in for a closer look, and my heart sank. Wasn’t that the wedding gift my father gave me? Brittany continued to brag, “My husband even hired a French designer to custom-make a crystal tea set for me.” I stared blankly at my phone, at the message my fiancé had just sent me: “Chloe, I found a crystal tea set. It matches the crystal chandelier in our villa perfectly.” Was it just a coincidence? Looking at Justin’s message, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Hearing my laugh, Brittany shot me a dismissive glance. “Some people just love to be jealous when they don’t have things themselves.” Brittany was notorious in the office for being a gold-digger. Recalling how Justin always showered me with care and affection, I couldn’t help but doubt myself. Had I misjudged him? I put on an act of extreme admiration, taking the phone from Brittany’s hand. On closer inspection, it was indeed my villa. But this villa was my dad’s wedding gift to me. Justin had always said it was still under renovation. How had it suddenly become Brittany’s villa? Seeing me staring intently at her phone, Brittany glared at me as if I were an idiot, then snatched her phone back. “Chloe, you could stare at it for ten hours, and you still couldn’t afford it.” Sarah, a colleague next to me, chimed in, echoing Brittany’s mockery. “Brittany, you’re amazing! I heard you found a great husband. Villas in the Clear Creek district are famously expensive, and he still bought you one. Us regular folks, we’ll probably never earn enough for a house in our lifetime.” Brittany covered her mouth with a fake smile. “My husband just can’t shake his habit of overspending.” As she spoke, Brittany showed off another photo, this time of a crystal tea set. “A few days ago, I casually mentioned to my husband that I wanted a crystal tea set, and he immediately had one custom-made for me in France. Ugh, men, always wasting money.” Brittany took a delicate sip from her coffee cup, uttering words of disdain, but a proud smirk involuntarily flickered in her eyes. I shrugged indifferently, a look of contempt on my face. Clearly, this was the reaction Brittany wanted to see. “Chloe, what’s with that look?” Suppressing my anger, I feigned a look of regret. “I saw a similar crystal chandelier in a magazine. The same brand also has a crystal decorative sculpture, meant for the entryway. It’s truly stunning.” I paused deliberately, scrutinizing Brittany from head to toe, then shook my head. “Too bad it’s super expensive, and a limited edition.” Sarah quickly searched online and gasped. “Oh my gosh, it’s gorgeous! It would totally elevate any home!” Of course. That was my best friend’s masterpiece. That set of crystal sculptures was originally meant for me, but I found it too extravagant and didn’t accept it. I glanced at Brittany beside me. Noticing that everyone’s attention had shifted from her crystal tea set, she flushed with anger. I almost burst out laughing. “We’ve already paid the deposit for that crystal sculpture set. The manufacturer just said there was a slight flaw and it needed some retouching.” Brittany unconsciously raised her voice, once again capturing everyone’s attention. “Really? Then let’s have the party at your place! I’d love to see that masterpiece by a top designer!” “I can’t wait! I’ve never been to such a high-end place before!” “That’s a famous wealthy neighborhood. Looks like Brittany’s family background is seriously impressive.” … I clapped my hands casually, staring straight at Brittany, who was now beaming from all the flattery. I was looking forward to it too. Looking forward to finding out what exactly was going on.

Night gradually fell, and I paused at my doorstep. Before I could even insert my key, I heard Justin opening the door. “Chloe, you’re back! You seem a little late today!” Justin skillfully took my bag and handed me slippers. He was as considerate as ever. Even though I’d told him not to be so overly humble, he always said he couldn’t bear for me to be tired. But this man, who supposedly loved me so much, seemed to love Brittany just as much. Noticing I was distracted, Justin gently touched my forehead. “Chloe, are you feeling unwell?” Justin helped me to the couch, then went to the kitchen to pour me a glass of warm water. Watching Justin busily moving around, I started to doubt my own instincts. Maybe the chandelier in Brittany’s villa was just a coincidence. Taking the warm water Justin offered, I thought for a moment, then cautiously probed, “Justin, the crystal tea set you mentioned today, I saw it…” Before I could finish, Justin smiled and interrupted me. “I was just about to tell you about that. I don’t think that tea set really matches.” The more I listened, the more uneasy I felt. A cold sweat started to break out on my back. “This afternoon, I saw a crystal decorative sculpture that would match our new home’s chandelier even better. It’s a bit pricey, but I think only something like that can truly complement you.” The brighter Justin smiled, the more terrifying he seemed. I tried my best to control my slightly trembling hands as I took the picture Justin handed me. The picture was of the exact crystal sculpture I had discussed with Brittany earlier today. All the facts were laid out before me. Brittany’s “husband” was Justin. Suppressing the anger in my heart, I forced out a bitter smile. “This weekend, my parents plan to come see our new place. Let’s get everything ready. After all, it’s their wedding gift to me, so we should entertain them well.” “This weekend?” Justin stammered for a long time, unable to give an answer. This weekend was when Brittany had scheduled her party. Clearly, Justin already knew. I pretended not to care and slowly stood up. “I’m tired. I’m going to take a shower first. Tomorrow, I’ll find someone to clean the new house and check on the renovations.” Through the crack in the bathroom door, I saw Justin dialing a phone number, his face anxious. His expression was stern during the conversation, as if they were arguing. Sure enough, a few minutes later, I saw a message from Brittany in the company group chat. “Colleagues, can we reschedule the weekend party? I’d like to find some cleaners to thoroughly clean the place and properly host everyone.” Without giving anyone else time to think, I quickly replied, “No worries, we can help you with some simple cleaning. We can’t just inconvenience you, and besides, we’ve already cleared our schedules…” A colleague who usually enjoyed making sarcastic remarks also chimed in: “Could it be that you’re not actually in charge of this villa?” Brittany, already seething with frustration, had no choice but to reluctantly agree. When I returned to the room after my shower, Justin put on a disappointed look. “Chloe, the company just assigned me a seven-day business trip this weekend. How about we ask your aunt and uncle to come next week instead? I’ll make sure to entertain them well then.” I smiled knowingly and nodded. Oh, I’ll definitely prepare a surprise for you then.

The next morning, Brittany was beaming, loudly arranging party details in the office. “What would everyone like to eat? I’ll have my husband prepare everything in advance. He’s busy that weekend, but he’ll get the ingredients ready.” Several colleagues gasped with envy. “Your husband is so good to you.” “Rich and thoughtful husband, I’m so jealous.” “If I were that rich, I wouldn’t even work.” I pulled Brenda, our HR manager, who I usually got along well with, aside and asked quietly, “Do you know when Brittany got her marriage certificate?” Brenda glanced around, then leaned in cautiously, teasing, “You’re the third person to ask me that today! Several colleagues suspect she’s lying! But actually, she really did get married last year. I find it strange too. Someone who loves to show off so much, why was there no word about a wedding?” “I heard Brittany met her husband on a dating app. To pretend she’s a corporate executive, she never even told him where she worked.” I secretly speculated, Of course, Justin wouldn’t want to have a wedding. After all, I paid for his four years of college. Where would he get the money for a wedding? I lowered my eyes, smiling meaningfully. “I wonder if her husband would be surprised if he found out where she works.” Brenda glanced around again, then told me even more juicy gossip. “A few days ago, Brittany even submitted a pregnancy report. She’s over two months pregnant and asked the company not to assign her to business trips. I guess that villa must be her husband’s gift to her.” My jaw almost dropped in shock. After all, Justin’s medical report last year showed oligozoospermia (low sperm count). I had planned to take him abroad for treatment after we got married and had never told him this fact. Watching Brittany laugh louder and louder amidst the colleagues’ flattery, I clenched my fists in anger, feeling an urge to expose the truth right then and there. But my lawyer’s reminder made me control myself. Because I had trusted Justin too much, the villa was registered in his name. It was now legally his property. If I exposed the truth now, I wouldn’t be able to reclaim the villa. Suddenly, Brittany saw my resentful expression and walked over in front of everyone. “Chloe, I heard you and your boyfriend have been together for a long time. Why is there still no news? I told you before, women can’t just work tirelessly. You need to think about your future.” Brittany pointed to a project proposal for the Majestic Group, glancing at me. “Everyone knows the Majestic Group project proposal is equivalent to a promotion to Sales Director. My husband has tons of connections. I advise you not to waste too much effort. Instead of spending time competing with me, why don’t you spruce yourself up and get married soon?” Sarah, eager to curry favor with Brittany, quickly chimed in. “That’s right, Chloe. No matter how many Plan A’s or Plan B’s you make for this project, it’s not as good as a dinner with these rich people. You’ll probably just be a runner-up for this year’s promotion.” I gave a faint smile. They didn’t know that the Head of Procurement for Majestic Group was my best friend’s husband. The project was originally slated for me, but to ensure fair competition, I hadn’t agreed to the internal appointment. Not seeing me look defeated, Brittany’s expression grew more impatient. “Once you see my villa, you’ll know the difference between us.” I turned and walked away without looking back, leaving only one sentence: “Looking forward to it.”

That weekend evening, Brittany posted a new update. The caption read: Someone who loves you would never let you suffer. The picture showed a man’s back as he busied himself in the kitchen. That back was my fiancé’s! Watching my colleagues like the post, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. The next day around noon, led by Brittany, we entered the gated community. Noticing I was distracted, Sarah teased, “The environment here really is upscale! Brittany, you’re so capable, you’ve opened our eyes.” Brittany became even more smug. Following Brittany’s lead, a crowd of people streamed into the villa. Even though this was my dad’s wedding gift to me, Justin was in charge of the renovation. I never thought that the first person to bring me to my villa wouldn’t be Justin. Brittany proudly showed off the crystal chandelier to our colleagues. As dazzling as the chandelier was the diamond ring on Brittany’s hand. The pigeon-sized diamond on the ring drew continuous praise from my colleagues. That was my wedding ring, which I had bought with my own money because I felt bad for Justin. To save Justin’s pride, I had deliberately given it to him to hold, planning for him to use it to propose when my dad came to visit. Brittany always pretended to casually fiddle with the diamond ring in front of me. “This diamond is just too heavy. It’s inconvenient to wear at work every day. Don’t you think so, Chloe?” Just as I was about to explode, I noticed an inconspicuous ceramic doll in the corner. It was the ceramic doll my late mother and I had made together at a pottery studio before she died of cancer. It was her last memento to me. Following my dazed gaze, Brittany also looked over, a trace of impatience flashing in her eyes. “That cleaner really needs to go. Why hasn’t she thrown out this old doll yet? I’ve told her several times that it doesn’t match the decor here at all.” As Brittany spoke, she tossed the ceramic doll into the trash can. The sound of it shattering startled me. “No!” The colleagues present were startled by my panicked cry. Brittany’s mocking laughter broke the silence. “Chloe, your taste is really bad. Could it be that out of this entire villa, you only fancy this old, broken doll?” For a moment, the villa was filled with a chorus of sneering laughter. My lawyer’s call brought me back to reality. “Ms. Chloe, I’ve prepared the documents for the villa’s property proof. We have ample evidence to help you reclaim it…” I coldly watched Brittany as she continued to show off to our colleagues. Before the lawyer could finish, I interrupted him. “Mr. Smith, just taking back the villa is too easy on them. I have a new idea.” The lawyer paused, then cautiously asked, “What’s your plan now, Ms. Chloe?” The corners of my mouth curled upwards, revealing a cunning smile. “Marry Justin.”

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Seven years since it happened, I threw up again during intimacy. Asher, who had been by my side through every grueling therapy session, finally snapped. “If you hadn’t insisted on saving Seraphina from that rapist, you wouldn’t have been targeted in retaliation! You’re a damn psychologist, Iris! Why can’t you fix yourself?” As he cleaned up my vomit, he scrubbed my skin raw with the brush. “You’re the one who’s been defiled and broken, I haven’t even called you disgusting, why are you always throwing up?” I had prepared a surprise for Asher, wanting to explain everything. But then I saw him working hard on Seraphina’s bed. “You both went through the same thing, so how can you make such beautiful sounds in bed?” “Do you think that woman is faking it?” The pregnancy test report slipped from my hand and fell to the floor. The explanation I never got to say lodged in my throat. I wasn’t faking it. I was just pregnant. As his brush tore at my skin, leaving me raw and bleeding, I didn’t flinch. When I felt warm liquid splash onto my back, I reached out and clutched Asher’s trembling hand. My voice was raw and hoarse, burned by stomach acid. “I’m sorry.” Asher suddenly snapped back to reality, tossing the brush far away. His fingers trembled as he tended to my wounds. He had prepared for this moment of intimacy for a long time. Everything had been going smoothly, and we were both starting to get lost in it. But my vomiting reaction was more violent than ever before. After applying the antiseptic, he instinctively reached out to comfort me, then suddenly remembered something. He pulled his hand back, abruptly leaving without touching me. “I’m sorry, I need to cool off.” Watching him walk away. I wondered if Asher ever regretted saving me from the kidnappers, even if it meant taking three knife wounds himself. Because of the severe PTSD I developed, I resisted all forms of intimacy. Asher had put his entire career on hold, painstakingly guiding me through desensitization therapy, step by agonizing step. His family detested me to their very core because of it. “If it weren’t for that woman, Asher would have taken the company to another level by now.” “Asher’s prime years are being completely wasted on this woman. And it looks like she can’t even have a child. All because she bought into that woman’s misguided kindness.” “Refusing to be a lady of leisure, choosing to be a damn psychologist, going around saving others from rapists – she deserved what she got!” The girl I saved was Seraphina. I never imagined that one day, they would end up in the same bed. I stood outside the room, feeling like I was being ripped in two, alive. One half was a raw, bleeding pain; the other half suspected this was a nightmare, not reality. They finally noticed the movement at the door. Asher’s face went white. “Iris, what are you doing here…?” The heavy, cloying scent of their infidelity hung in the air, and I started dry-heaving uncontrollably. Asher panicked, expertly pouring water, offering me medication, and cleaning up the vomit. Seraphina knocked the water from Asher’s hand, her eyes red as she demanded, “Iris, I don’t understand. I was abused for longer than you, so how come I can be intimate with Asher, and you can’t?” “Asher is a human being, he has desires and emotions, and he gets hurt when he’s rejected. Iris, you haven’t recovered for so long, do you even care about his feelings?” Listening to her indignant questions, I remembered that terrifying memory. My stomach spasmed as if trying to expel every last drop of acid. The pregnancy test results, which I’d meant as a surprise, were now on the floor, soiled and illegible. Seraphina reached out and covered Asher’s eyes, preventing him from looking at the mess. “Don’t look. You’re human too, you’ll get disgusted.” “She doesn’t care about you, but I do.” Asher looked at my pale face, opening his mouth several times, trying to explain something. But his body was still marked with the messy aftermath of their encounter. He simply gave up, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “You already find me disgusting, so what’s one more time?” Asher grabbed his jacket and left, his back slumped in despair. He was right. I wasn’t a good wife. I had no right to question Asher’s infidelity. How many more seven-year cycles of his life would I consume? I dialed my lawyer. “Draw up the divorce papers for me. I’m willing to walk away with nothing.” I needed to give Asher back the vibrant life he deserved.

As I knelt on the floor, painstakingly cleaning up the mess, my mind drifted back to the past. I remembered Asher, covered in blood, holding me tightly. “You’re not dirty. I just came too late.” Asher brought in the best psychologists from across the country to treat me. Countless times, I thought I was getting better. He would kiss me, full of hope. But the next second, I’d throw up all over him. He’d patiently clean it all up, smiling nonchalantly. “I know you’re not disgusted by me, Iris. Don’t be afraid. It’s a sickness, and it will be cured someday.” Truth be told, more than once, I’d seen the balcony littered with cigarette butts late at night. He’d sobbed at my grandmother’s bedside, admitting how exhausted he was, but swearing he’d never give up on me. So I pushed myself through therapy, fighting for recovery, until finally, that day came. But I never expected that everything would already be utterly unrecognizable. A video from Seraphina popped up on my phone. The Asher in the video was consumed by lust, panting, letting Seraphina brand his arm with one cigarette burn after another. “Only with you can I breathe.” Asher had dismissed the crisscrossing scars on his arm with a casual shrug. “Just a lot of stress lately.” I thought they were because of me, and I’d spent sleepless nights racked with guilt. It turned out they were just their sick idea of foreplay. Asher’s voice continued. “I’m sick of feeling disgusted. She despises me, and honestly, I don’t want to be near her anymore. When she throws up, it’s truly revolting.” *Bang!* The phone crashed to the floor. My hands began to tremble violently, twitching uncontrollably. My empty stomach cramped with a brutal, twisting pain. All the gossip and rumors over the years hadn’t hurt half as much as Asher’s single sentence. The phone on the floor suddenly blared, the caregiver’s voice laced with terror. “Hurry! Grandma’s going to jump!” By the time I arrived, my body cold with dread, that figure had already made a resolute leap, landing heavily on the pavement right in front of me. Blood splattered, blurring my vision. My legs gave out, and I crumpled to the ground, my voice abruptly lost, only a hoarse, painful gasp escaping my throat. I frantically dialed Asher’s number, realizing in that moment that I had no one else to turn to. If this was a nightmare, please, just let me wake up. The call connected, and Seraphina’s seductive gasp leaked through the line. “Someone’s calling~” “What could be more important than this right now? Hang up. Focus.” The call was abruptly disconnected. My vision swam with black spots. I couldn’t even recall the face of the boy who used to answer my calls anytime, anywhere, terrified of missing a single message from me. A suicide note was handed to me. Grandma had left only one agonizing sentence. “Why did you follow your mother’s path? I’m sorry, I just don’t have the courage to endure losing another loved one.” My mom, after being betrayed, fell into a deep depression and took her own life in our fish tank. And on my grandma’s phone screen was a news report. The headline read: “New York’s Richest Man Finally Dumps Wife, Attends Prenatal Scans with New Flame.” The accompanying photo showed a blurry profile. Asher gently stroked Seraphina’s belly, a smile of undisguised joy on his face.

With trembling hands, I found a prenatal scan report deep inside Asher’s safe. This safe held his most treasured possessions. The last thing placed inside had been our marriage certificate. The report sent to my grandma’s phone was from an anonymous number. Scrolling up, there was another message: “The kidnapping was my doing. If your daughter hadn’t been so foolishly kind, she wouldn’t have fallen for it. I never imagined their relationship would be so fragile; Asher already finds her disgusting. Your granddaughter will end up just like your daughter—a pathetic woman abandoned by her man.” Grandma always taught me to be kind. So when I met Seraphina, who had been persecuted for so long and suffered from severe depression, I believed her. She pleaded with me to save her, to not call the police, claiming it would ruin her future. I agreed. Neither Grandma nor I ever imagined that my kindness would drag me into hell. When Asher married me, he knelt before my mother’s tombstone and swore an oath: never to betray me. But that vow had finally been worn away by reality. I dry-heaved, spitting out streaks of blood, unable to stand any longer. My vision went completely black. When I next opened my eyes, Asher was wiping my face. Seeing me awake, he immediately pulled his hand back, a strained smile on his lips. “The moment I leave, you turn yourself into this. Are you only happy if you force me to constantly revolve around you? What is this, you despise me, but can’t live without me?” Asher looked exhausted. “Tomorrow, the family estate is hosting a party. I’m begging you, just for my sake, don’t throw up. Don’t let anyone laugh at me for being useless again.” This was the first time in years Asher had begged me. Seeing the few strands of gray already sprouting at his temples, my heart ached. Soon. Once I leave, your life will return to its original path. When I appeared, clinging to Asher’s arm, a ripple of surprised whispers went through the room. “Her inability to touch men… it’s finally gone?” Asher’s expression finally relaxed a little. But in the very next second, I uncontrollably bent over and started dry-heaving. Seraphina walked past, innocently holding a basin of raw chicken blood. “Oh, don’t get the wrong idea, everyone. Iris probably just threw up from the smell of blood. It has nothing to do with Asher.” After being pregnant and then witnessing Grandma die right in front of me, I truly couldn’t stand the slightest whiff of blood. But no one believed Seraphina’s explanation. “Who throws up just from smelling blood? Her illness clearly isn’t cured. She held it in for so long, but she’s still disgusted by Asher.” Asher flung my hand away, his eyes filled with disappointment. “If you’re so disgusted, then stay away from me.” Asher pulled Seraphina closer. Seraphina was dressed head to toe in designer clothes, nurtured and pampered into delicate beauty. There was no trace left of her former gloomy, cowering self. Meanwhile, I was pale and thin, hiding in a corner, vomiting in a pathetic heap, avoided by everyone around me. “They look so perfect together. Seraphina is a truly good woman. She overcame her trauma on her own and found happiness.” “That’s the kind of woman Asher deserves. Not the other one, who’s still half-dead.” The quiet murmurs drifted into my ears, but Asher made no move to refute them. The whispers exploded when Seraphina flashed the diamond ring on her hand. My pupils contracted, my gaze fixed on her ring finger in disbelief. “Iris lost too much weight, so it didn’t fit her anymore. Asher just gave it to me instead. Don’t misunderstand, he hasn’t proposed yet.” Seraphina giggled as she explained. After I lost over ten pounds, Asher had taken off my wedding ring. He’d carefully put it away. “When you’re better, we’ll wear it together again.” But now, that diamond ring, symbolizing eternity, gleamed on Seraphina’s hand, its dazzling light stabbing at my eyes. She covered her mouth, mocking me. “You couldn’t keep your family, and you can’t keep your husband. Iris, your life is truly a failure.” Not wanting to cause any more commotion, I leaned on the sink, pretending not to hear her words. But Seraphina lowered her voice, leaning close to my ear. “Tell me, if your grandma in heaven saw you and your mom, both abandoned women that nobody wants, would she be so angry she’d come back to life?” I lunged, my hands clamping around her throat. The next second, a fierce shove sent me reeling. Asher flung me aside, and I slammed into the wall. “What are you doing to Seraphina?” My phone suddenly rang. It was the funeral home. I ignored the crippling pain in my body and answered. “Ms. Jiang, your grandmother’s and mother’s ashes have been picked up by a woman.”

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Everyone said my girlfriend was a sugar baby, hooking up with some rich guy, but I always brushed it off. Then, when I saw Anya get into that Range Rover for the fifth time, my certainty wavered. I followed her. I nearly broke down, confronting her, my voice raw: “Why? Who is he?!” She tried to calm me. “Babe, don’t overthink. He’s just a friend.” I roared furiously: “Just a friend? No way! I saw everything! How much longer were you planning to keep this from me?!” Seeing my genuine anger, she took my hand, her voice barely a whisper: “I’m sorry, babe. To be honest, you’re actually the other man.” “You… I… this…” I stared at Anya. A moment ago, my gut was burning with rage. Now, after holding it in for what felt like an eternity, I couldn’t string a single word together. Anya’s face was etched with apology: “It’s okay, babe, you didn’t know. This is all on me. I should have been honest with you.” I was still reeling from the shock she’d dropped on me. I looked at Anya, my face a mask of disbelief. The woman who was always so gentle with me, my Anya, was already someone else’s wife. I loved her. I loved her so much. My plan had been to propose the moment I graduated. But now? What was this? How could she be such a player? Didn’t that make me the one breaking up a family? How could I ever accept that? “Babe, please don’t be mad, okay?” Anya’s voice came again, as soft and tender as always. But right now, there was no way I could stay calm. I stared at Anya, disbelief hardening my gaze: “This isn’t just about being mad anymore.” “I just graduated college, and I’m already the other man?” “I’m not that kind of guy, so why am I being forced into it?” “You manipulative jerk, we’re over!” Anya visibly stiffened. Her eyes turned red, and she pleaded, tears welling up: “Babe, please don’t break up with me, okay?” “I don’t want to lose you.” “If you can’t accept this, then for you, I’ll divorce him.” I was utterly speechless. Was this even about divorce anymore? My head was spinning, completely overwhelmed and confused by her. My mind was a chaotic mess. “Babe.” Anya reached out, trying to come closer. I quickly stepped back, avoiding her touch. “Don’t come near me.” “Just go. Let me calm down. You’ve messed me up so badly right now!” Seeing my resolute stance, Anya didn’t press any further. She picked up her bag. As she was about to leave, something seemed to strike her. She pulled a bank card from her bag. “Babe, this is a graduation gift I specially prepared for you.” “There’s thirty million dollars on this card. Use it, and if it’s not enough, just tell me.” I snatched the card, my hand trembling, and challenged her: “What is this supposed to be?” “Are you trying to buy me?” Anya quickly explained: “No, babe, please don’t think that.” “I… I just want you to be happy.” “And you’ve graduated now. You should start building a career. This thirty million might help you launch a business, or chase some dreams.” Her explanation left me with no counter-argument. “Babe, I’m going now. Please calm down. Don’t do anything reckless.” Watching Anya leave. I slammed the bank card against the door with all my might. In that moment, I felt like my world was ending.

I spent a tormenting night alone in my apartment. But I still couldn’t get past it. I had just graduated college. I was supposed to have a bright future ahead of me. I was supposed to propose to Anya, the woman I loved most. But I never would have imagined things would turn out like this. I didn’t want to be the other man. Without a word to Anya, I packed my bags and left the country. Over the next few years abroad, I pursued various advanced degrees. A billionaire investor noticed me, gave me a billion dollars, and sent me back home to spearhead market expansion. I assumed Anya would have forgotten about me after all these years. But as soon as she heard I was returning, she immediately wanted to arrange a celebration. I arrived at the private room Anya had booked. Before I even entered, I heard her talking with her friends: “Anya, your company was on the verge of collapse all these years, drowning in countless headaches that nearly broke you. It’s thanks to Marcus’s unwavering support and his constant, loyal presence that you managed to pull through. I’m so jealous you have such a wonderful husband.” “Seriously! If my husband was even half as good as Marcus, I’d wake up smiling every day.” “Your tenth wedding anniversary with Marcus is coming up. Are you going to go all out this time?” “Yeah, Marcus has poured his heart and soul into supporting you all these years, he’s lost so much weight. I really think you should make a big deal out of your tenth anniversary. It would make him so happy.” Anya remained silent for a long time, then finally spoke: “Marcus is truly good, but our marriage was arranged by our families. It’s not the kind of love I truly wanted.” Her friends frowned, one after another: “Anya, what are you saying? You’re not still hung up on Julian, are you?” At the mention of my name, another friend, Chloe, immediately contorted her face in disgust: “Don’t even talk about him!” “Back then, when Anya’s company was on the brink of collapse, she still gave him the paltry thirty million dollars, her last resort, to save herself. But what did he do? He just took the money and vanished without a trace, didn’t even send a breakup text!” “That kind of man is absolutely not worth trusting. Even if you like someone, it shouldn’t be him!” I stood outside the door, my stomach churning. So, when I left, Anya was facing financial ruin. But even in that dire situation, she still transferred thirty million dollars to me. How could she be so foolish? That was her life-saving fund! All these years I’d been gone, I’d never regretted my decision. I even felt that her hiding the truth and being with me behind her husband’s back was just her playing me for a fool. But in that moment, a wave of bitter regret washed over me. I took a deep breath, composed myself. Then, I pushed open the door. The chatter in the room instantly died. Seeing that it was me who walked in, everyone stared at me with a strange, scrutinizing gaze. One of them asked cautiously: “Julian, when did you get back?” I masked the turmoil inside, offering a faint smile: “Just got back.” “Hmph!” Before I could say anything more, Chloe snorted: “How dare you show your face here?” “When Anya’s company was on the brink of collapse, you just bolted without a word.” “Now that Anya’s company is back on its feet, are you thinking of coming back to swindle her out of more money so you can live it up overseas again?” My face burned. I could only explain: “I didn’t know Anya was in that situation back then. If I had known, I definitely wouldn’t have left.” Chloe’s voice rose several octaves as she yelled at me: “You didn’t know?” “I saw you run faster than a rabbit back then!” “You heartless jerk, you don’t deserve to be here, and you certainly don’t deserve to be in front of Anya!” Another friend chimed in: “Exactly! You knew Anya had a husband, but you still chose to be the other man. Weren’t you just after her money?” “You don’t belong here!”

The shame in my heart made my eyes well up. Seeing Anya remain impassive to her friends’ taunts, I just wanted to disappear. I dropped my gift and turned to leave. But Anya grabbed my arm: “You’re here now, so stay and join us.” Then, Anya looked at Chloe and the others: “Please stop talking about Julian like that.” “He really didn’t know the truth back then. I deliberately kept everything from him.” “He didn’t know I had a husband, nor did he know about the impending bankruptcy.” “I was wrong first.” Anya’s friends fell silent, no longer speaking ill of me. But they still clearly wanted me gone. Just as the atmosphere hung heavy, the door opened again. Anya’s husband, Marcus, appeared at the doorway. Marcus’s expression froze for a split second when he saw me there. He quickly composed himself and walked over to Anya, taking her wine glass and saying with concern: “Anya, your stomach has always been sensitive. You really shouldn’t drink so much wine.” Anya took the glass back from him, saying: “I’m fine. It’s rare we all get together, so I have to celebrate properly.” Watching Marcus’s devoted care for her, a sour feeling twisted in my gut. After that, Anya’s friends kept teasing Marcus and Anya, pointedly leaving me out. I endured a night steeped in bitterness. The next day, Anya sent me a message. [It’s been so long since I’ve had your home-cooked meals. I really miss them.] I replied almost instantly: [Wait for me! I’ll bring it to your office!] I spent two full hours cooking, then carried the packed lunchboxes to her company. When I reached Anya’s office door, I ran into Marcus coming out. “Hey.” I offered a smile and a greeting. Marcus ignored me, pushed the office door open, and walked in. I felt awkward but followed him in anyway. Anya, who was working at her desk, frowned when she saw both Marcus and me enter. “What are you doing here?” Both Marcus and I froze. Neither of us knew who she was talking to. I forced a smile, placed the lunchboxes on her desk, and opened them one by one: “I made all your favorite dishes, the spicy ones.” Marcus’s face immediately darkened, and he yelled at me: “Are you trying to kill Anya?!” I was utterly confused. Marcus explained: “These past few years, Anya has had to drink at countless business dinners to get the company back on its feet. She even ended up with stomach ulcers.” “Now, her stomach absolutely cannot handle spicy food!” At the mention of this, my eyes burned. But Anya picked up her forks: “It’s not Julian’s fault. I wanted to eat it.” She began eating ravenously. Soon, her face became noticeably pale. I quickly urged her: “Anya, maybe you should stop eating.” Anya was clearly in pain, but she gritted her teeth and insisted: “It’s fine. It’s just been so long since I’ve had anything this spicy, I’m a bit out of practice.” That night, I heard Anya had been rushed to the hospital. Marcus was the one who told me himself. My heart felt like it was being ripped to shreds. Anya clearly couldn’t handle spicy food, so why did she eat it? Marcus roared at me over the phone: “After all these years, does she still love you that much?!” “Even knowing how severe the consequences would be, she still ate your home-cooked meal!” “I honestly believe if you gave her poison, she’d swallow it without hesitation!” “Why?!” “I’m the one who loves her most.” “I’m her husband.” “What exactly do I lack compared to you?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “320589”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #励志Inspiring