Category: English

Bound by an ancient pact, father presented two sisters from a once-prominent family. Caleb and I were to choose our wives. The elegant and brilliant Celeste immediately fell for Caleb. My gaze fell on Aurora, whose legs were crippled. A heavy sigh escaped me; my heart, a foolish thing, softened, and I accepted her. After our marriage, I scoured the world for doctors, desperately searching for a cure for her legs. Her condition never improved. She grew withdrawn, consumed by despair. I tried to lift her spirits, my voice firm with encouragement. I truly believed that if I was simply good enough to her, she would eventually find the strength to pick herself up. But on the day our enemies ambushed us, she sprang from her wheelchair, shoving me directly into the line of fire. “I’m sorry, I can’t just stand by and watch Caleb die.” So, to save Caleb, I was expendable? She gave me one last, deep look, then slammed the heavy door shut. “I owe you for this life, but I’ll repay you in the next!” I clenched my fists, my nails digging painfully into my palms. It hit me then: her paralysis, her despair—it had all been an act, solely for me. When my eyes next opened, father’s familiar voice echoed, instructing Caleb and me to choose our wives once more.

I stared at the people before me, a chilling hatred seeping from my very bones. Caleb glanced at the graceful and refined Celeste, then turned to me, his face etched with feigned concern. “You’re too young, too sheltered,” he’d said, his voice laced with false pity. “How could I let you marry Aurora, crippled as she is? I’ll take her. It’s truly no burden.” He’d said the exact same words in my previous life. Back then, I actually believed he was the kindest soul alive. To spare him any perceived hardship, I refused. “Caleb,” I stated, my voice resolute, “you and Celeste are clearly smitten with each other. How could I possibly stand in your way?” I forcefully chose the supposedly crippled sister, Aurora. For seven long years, I scoured the world for doctors and prayed for her recovery in church every single day. Then, our enemies attacked. My beloved wife, the woman I had meticulously cared for for seven years, sprang from her wheelchair and, without hesitation, shoved me out to die. “I’m sorry, I can’t just stand by and watch Caleb die.” She didn’t even give me time to react before she slammed the thick, heavy door shut. Caleb had dozens of bodyguards, and a secret escape tunnel just steps away from where he could have met Celeste. He’d said he’d protect me first. But after she pushed me, he didn’t call a single soul to my rescue. I died, and he inherited a reputation for kindness. The thought made a chilling, humorless laugh bubble up. “Then let’s switch.” The air instantly froze. Caleb’s gentle expression stiffened. Celeste’s head snapped up, and she blurted out, “No!” Father’s face, too, darkened ominously, his authoritative gaze sweeping between Aurora and me. “Nonsense! Your elder brother cannot marry a cripple!” A wave of icy despair washed over me, a chill that seeped into my very bones. So, you do know that marrying a cripple is unacceptable. In my last life, when I chose Aurora, he hadn’t said that. He’d called me sensible, praised me for ‘considering the family’s best interests,’ a true son of the Vances. Just then, a clear, cool voice broke the silence. “I am not crippled.” To everyone’s stunned disbelief, Aurora slowly rose to her feet. Her posture was ramrod straight, radiating a fierce, almost icy composure unique to her. I stared, my blood turning to ice. She’d been faking it the whole time? What about all those sleepless nights I spent searching for a cure, then? What was that for? I’d even sacrificed my own shares, begged Father to let her stay when she’d fallen out of favor! What was any of that, then? It was all a cruel, twisted joke! Seeing her now, I instantly understood. She had been reborn, too. So, her “I’ll repay you in the next life” from before? Just empty words. Even given a second chance, she still wanted nothing to do with me. Fine. I had no intention of having her either. “Mr. Vance, my business acumen might even surpass my sister’s.” Aurora’s voice was calm and confident. With just a few concise sentences, she pinpointed the exact critical flaw in the Vance Group’s current strategy, her analysis even sharper than Celeste’s. “I have a plan to turn our losses into profit within three months.” Father’s shock morphed into unbridled delight. I saw Caleb’s gaze on Aurora shift, a surprising, almost predatory gleam in his eyes. He quickly reined in his expression, moving to Celeste’s side with a practiced look of concern. “Celeste, I’m counting on you to take good care of Asher from now on.” Celeste’s dark, resentful gaze landed on my prosthetic left eye. The one that had been gouged out when I shielded Caleb from an attacker. Celeste’s eyes were filled with disgust as she stated, word for word, “I implore you, Mr. Vance, cancel this engagement and grant me my freedom. I would rather start from scratch than marry Asher.”

Father’s face instantly darkened. His stern gaze bore down on Celeste. “Cancel the engagement?” he boomed. “You wish for the entire city to mock the Vance family, to brand us as untrustworthy?” Celeste’s delicate brows furrowed, her gaze settling squarely on my face—or rather, on the dull, lifeless gray of my prosthetic eye. “I am not worthy of Young Master Asher,” she said, her tone distant. “Please, Mr. Vance, grant me this request.” Caleb immediately stepped forward, his face a mask of feigned anguish as he gently chastised her. “Celeste, how can you say such a thing? You’re breaking Asher’s heart!” Celeste looked at him, and her eyes instantly softened with tender emotion. “If I cannot be with the man my heart truly desires, I would rather remain unwed for life.” I almost scoffed aloud. What a performance of undying devotion! A flicker of triumph flashed in Caleb’s eyes before he swiftly replaced it with his usual ‘concerned for others’ facade. “Don’t be rash,” he urged. “Have you forgotten our enemies? They won’t spare you now that you’re vulnerable. I can’t just stand by and watch you fall into ruin.” Celeste, predictably, was visibly moved, her gaze growing even softer. A cold, cutting smile twisted my lips. “Well, if that’s the case,” I drawled, “why not just let Celeste and Aurora both marry Caleb?” “That way, the engagement isn’t broken, and all the ‘lovers’ are satisfied.” “After all, the contract never specified Caleb couldn’t have two wives.” “As for who’d be the official wife and who’d be relegated to a lesser status, Caleb can just decide, can’t he?” Caleb shot me a glare that was meant to be scolding but held an undeniable spark of secret pleasure. “Asher, what nonsense are you spewing!” Father’s gaze shifted to me, tinged with a hint of suspicion. “Are you truly rejecting both of them?” I was unequivocal. “Absolutely.” Aurora and Celeste both looked at me, their expressions mirroring each other’s disdain, as if to say, If even we don’t want him, who would? Father pondered for a moment, then asked, “Then who do you intend to marry?” “I want Sloane Knight,” I declared, “the sole heiress of the Knight family.” A collective gasp filled the room. Father himself shot to his feet, utterly stunned. “Are you insane?” he roared. “That’s Sloane! The city’s most notorious wild child, who revels in scandal! Even the psychics predicted she wouldn’t live past thirty!” The Knight family’s fortune dwarfed even our own Vance Group. But Sloane was infamously rebellious and scandalous, and two years ago, she’d been struck by a grave illness. Every doctor agreed she wouldn’t see her thirtieth birthday. Any man who married into that situation was signing up for a living hell. Even with the Knight family’s promise to grant twenty percent of their company shares to their son-in-law, no one in elite circles dared to let their son marry into the Knights. I straightened my back, meeting Father’s gaze with unwavering calm. “I am willing to marry Sloane, for the future of the Vance family.” “But you must grant me ten percent of the Vance Group shares as a personal settlement.” The cunning glint in Father’s eyes dimmed slightly. An expected reaction. His favoritism had never been for me; why would he willingly part with any shares to give them to me now? I let out a short, cold laugh. “Father, my face is disfigured. I’ll be powerless and alone in the Knight family. Without some leverage, how can I ever gain a foothold?” “Besides, how many years does Sloane have left? Once she’s gone, won’t everything the Knights own ultimately become ours?” A flicker of calculation crossed his face, and he finally nodded. “Fine, I agree.”

Upon entering the Knight family, I found myself treated with immense respect by Mr. and Mrs. Knight. They not only personally guided me through their vast business empire, but also taught me the ropes themselves. Two months later, my very first project there was a resounding success, its profits far exceeding all expectations. Mr. and Mrs. Knight were overjoyed and hosted a grand celebration banquet in my honor. At the banquet, I wore a sharply tailored suit, my posture impeccable, becoming the undeniable focal point of the entire room. Caleb approached me, a glass in hand, his smile deceptively charming. “Congratulations, Asher. But I must advise you, try not to get too carried away.” He added, with a pointed smirk, “Especially when those ‘achievements’ are entirely thanks to someone else’s generous backing.” I swirled the red wine in my glass, my gaze sharp. “Caleb’s right,” I agreed, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Father’s been propping you up for years. Funny how you still haven’t managed to accomplish even a shred of anything worthwhile.” Father, who was conversing nearby, heard my words and, for the first time, shot Caleb a cold look. Caleb’s face instantly crumpled into a wounded, pitiful expression. “Asher, how can you speak to me like that? I’m only trying to help you!” He then shifted his gaze to my eye, feigning concern. “Your main priority now is to win Sloane’s heart, to… well… get things moving. But with that eye… so ugly, it’s no wonder she can’t stand the sight of you.” “If I’d known, I never would have let you marry into the Knights in the first place. You’d be better off just staying home than being kicked out onto the streets.” My eyes blazed as I fixed my gaze on Caleb, each word biting. “Caleb, have you forgotten how I lost this eye?” “When those thugs attacked us, even with you wounded and the situation dire, I never once considered abandoning you. I held your hand and ran.” “But how did you repay me?” “Yet you tripped me, leaving me to be caught and have one of my eyes brutally gouged out!” Caleb’s face went chalk white. Speechless, he could only stammer out a fake apology, “I’m sorry, Asher, I didn’t mean to…” “Cut the act!” I snarled, cutting him off. “Don’t think a few mumbled apologies can hide your utter viciousness.” Celeste, shielding a sniffling Caleb, rounded on me, her eyes flashing fury. “Asher! That’s too far!” Aurora was even more direct. She lunged forward, grabbing my wrist with surprising force, trying to yank me in front of Caleb. “Caleb has always been kind!” she hissed. “You’re slandering him! Apologize to him, now!” I violently shook her off, then, without a second thought, raised my foot and kicked out at her. “Who the hell do you think you are?” I spat. “You’re nothing but Caleb’s dirty little secret, a mistress he’s too ashamed to acknowledge! Do you really think you have a right to speak here?” Aurora stared up at me, her beautiful face filled with disbelief. “How can you say such a thing to me?” Then her face hardened, and she gritted out, “Regardless, you will apologize to Caleb first.” With that, she actually tried to trip me, aiming a kick at my shin, intending to force me to my knees before Caleb. I struggled fiercely, then barked a low command to the security personnel behind me. “Get her out of here!” Aurora’s pretty eyes widened. “Why are you throwing me out?” I sneered. “Because this is a Knight family event, and you, a mere mistress with no standing, have no right to cause a scene here!” Aurora tried to shout again but was powerless to resist. A week later. Aurora burst in, her face etched with panic. She seized my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “Come with me, quickly! Caleb’s in grave danger!”

My heart remained utterly unmoved. I violently shook her off. “Asher, please, come on! If you don’t go, the Thorne family will kill Caleb!” Aurora yelled, her face contorted in distress. “I don’t care how he offended the Thorne family,” I retorted coldly. “What does that have to do with me?” “Asher!” Aurora’s pretty face flushed crimson with rage. She gritted her teeth. “Caleb only chose that high-risk, high-reward project to surpass you! You’re responsible for this!” I almost laughed. Caleb’s project failed, so he kidnapped his competitor, intending to force them out of business. He hadn’t realized that the person was a tough nut to crack, nor that she was Jasper Thorne, the young heir of the powerful Thorne family, doing a stint in the business world. Caleb had tortured Jasper so severely that he was still in the ICU. The Thorne family wielded immense power; a mere whisper from them could shake the entire city. They even operated their own private prison. Anyone who entered that private hell emerged either crippled or driven insane. “I don’t give a damn,” I scoffed, turning to leave. “How is this not about you?” “Asher, if you hadn’t done so well with your projects, showing off in front of Caleb, he never would have been provoked into doing something like this!” Aurora blocked my path, her eyes rimmed with angry red, fixated on me. “Now, it’s your responsibility to go and atone for his sins, isn’t it?” With that, she reached out and grabbed my arm, attempting to drag me toward a car. Taking advantage of Aurora’s distraction, I slammed my elbow into her, seizing the opportunity to break free. But before I could even catch my breath, I heard hurried footsteps behind me. I turned to see Father approaching, with Celeste by his side. Father’s face was grim, and Celeste’s eyes were chillingly cold. My heart sank, a knot of foreboding tightening in my gut. Celeste rushed forward without a word, clamping her hand around my arm. “Let go!” I roared, struggling desperately. “Aurora!” Celeste yelled to Aurora, who was still wincing in pain. Aurora immediately reacted, running over to help. Two women against me, I found myself struggling to break free. They wrestled me to the ground, binding my hands and feet with rope. My eyes blazed with fury as I glared at Father. “Father, what is the meaning of this?” Father avoided my piercing gaze, his voice trembling slightly. “Asher, don’t blame me. Caleb has never known hardship. He won’t survive the Thorne family’s torture.” He wouldn’t survive? So, he was willing to sacrifice me without a second thought? I turned my head to Aurora, my voice filled with angry accusation. “Aurora, are you truly doing this?!” Aurora looked at me, a flicker of complex emotion in her eyes, but she still resolutely dragged me toward the car. “Aurora, your attitude toward me hasn’t changed at all. Still as cruel as ever.” Aurora looked back at me, her face devoid of any surprise. “I’m sorry, Asher.” Sorry? I almost burst out laughing. “Aurora, your apology is a joke. Push someone to their death, then offer a ‘sorry’?” “I promise, this is the last time.” Aurora looked at me earnestly, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I’ve already figured out the loopholes in the Thorne family’s private prison. I’ll do everything in my power to protect you, to ensure you aren’t harmed.” Upon arriving at the Thorne estate, Aurora immediately pushed me away and hurried toward Caleb. She gently stroked Caleb’s back, her voice softer than I had ever heard it. “It’s okay now, I brought him.” “Grandma Thorne, Caleb is innocent. All of this was Asher’s doing.” “All the harm Young Master Jasper suffered, Asher should bear it!” Bound by rope, I lay on the ground in disgrace. I struggled to turn my head to Celeste, my eyes holding one last, sharp scrutiny. “You always prided yourself on your honesty and integrity, didn’t you? Why aren’t you telling the truth?” Celeste avoided my piercing gaze, pulling a document from her pocket. “I’m sorry.” She whispered an apology, then handed the fabricated evidence to Grandma Thorne. “This is proof that Asher was the mastermind behind Young Master Jasper’s kidnapping.” My heart plummeted into an abyss of ice. Grandma Thorne’s face turned ashen after reading the document. She waved a hand, and two men in black immediately stepped forward. A flash of cold steel, and three agonizing stabs tore into my body. “Ugh—” The searing pain made me grunt, and blood instantly stained my chest. Everyone gathered around Caleb, comforting him with soft words, no one sparing me another glance. Just then, a servant rushed in. “Grandma, Jasper is awake!” “He says it was Caleb who harmed him that night, not Asher!” Grandma Thorne erupted in furious anger. “Outrageous! Your Vance family dares to try and shift the blame!” I thought I could finally escape this torment, but Father stepped forward. After a string of reassuring pleasantries, he changed tack. “I only have these two sons. Are you truly going to destroy my entire family?” He pointed at me. “Since Asher has already suffered punishment for Caleb, why not punish him double? Let’s consider this matter closed.” My eyes widened, staring at him in disbelief, my voice hoarse. “Father, I am your son too.” “For Caleb, are you truly willing to let me die?” He averted his gaze uncomfortably. Grandma Thorne glanced at me, then sneered, “Fine.” I was dragged to the Thorne family’s private prison, iron chains locking my hands and feet. One by one, the instruments of torture were laid out before me. Steel needles pierced beneath my fingernails, the intense pain making my muscles seize up, cold sweat beading on my skin. “Ah—!” My blood slowly seeped into the cold ground. I don’t know how much time passed before Aurora walked in. “Aurora, get me out of here, quickly!” “Please, save me…” I gritted my teeth, my voice a ragged whisper. But she merely frowned. “Can you be a little quieter? Caleb is terrified hearing your voice.” I stared at her, incredulous. “Even with me standing here, covered in wounds, your only concern is Caleb’s trivial fear, isn’t it?” Aurora’s face showed a flicker of something akin to pity, her slender hands clenching, but her words remained cold. “Just bear with it a little longer. Caleb isn’t feeling well; I need to go make him some ginger tea first.” “Aurora, please! They’re going to put steel needles into my neck next! If you don’t take me now, I will truly die!” Aurora paused for a moment. “Just bear with it. Caleb can’t handle pain.” She turned and left without another glance. I closed my eyes, numbly feeling the sticky blood on my cheeks. Sloane and Grandma Thorne emerged from the shadows. Sloane draped a jacket over my shoulders, her fingers brushing away the blood-matted hair from my forehead, her voice laced with playful mockery. “Honey, are these your family and the friends you grew up with?” I looked at Grandma Thorne, my face devoid of emotion. “Now, can you believe I have absolutely no loyalty left for the Vance family?” Grandma Thorne nodded in satisfaction. “Welcome aboard.” From that day forward, I was no longer Asher Vance, the second son of the Vance family. I was the Vance Group’s nightmare.

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Brittany was on speakerphone with some trust fund kid, giggling like it was her job. She glanced out the window and sighed. “Ugh, Asher’s waiting downstairs again. So pathetic. Anya, do me a favor? Go tell him I’m sick and send him home.” I looked down at Asher. The whole campus thought he was just a broke transfer student. Only I knew he wasn’t. Last month, I’d picked up a cleaning shift at the city’s most exclusive members’ club. I saw him walk out of a private suite, surrounded by men in suits that cost more than my tuition. Even the club owner was bowing his head, all respect. I grabbed an umbrella and pulled on a thin white tee before heading down. The rain soaked through the fabric, clinging to every curve. I walked up to Asher and held the umbrella over him. “Brittany asked me to tell you to go home.” His eyes lingered on the outline of my chest. His Adam’s apple bobbed once. “Who are you?” “Anya. Her roommate.” That night, Brittany was at a hotel with her rich boy. And I led Asher back to my apartment.

I stirred, my body a dull ache. Asher stood with his back to me, pulling on his worn jeans. “Awake?” He turned. His gaze caught on my bare collarbone, and a slow, knowing smirk touched his lips. “Last night, it was good.” My cheeks burned. I dropped my gaze. Asher walked to the bed and pulled a jeweled bracelet from his pocket. “Didn’t have cash on me. Take this instead.” “Just a family trinket. Not worth much. Consider it a…souvenir.” I’d seen one like it before-on the wrist of that club owner. That night, drunk, he’d slammed it on the table and boasted it was worth a luxury apartment on its own. Playing the pauper? Did he think I was stupid? I pushed the bracelet back. “No, I can’t take it.” I looked up, letting my eyes glisten. “What kind of girl do you think I am?” Asher’s eyebrow lifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “I told you, it’s nothing. Keep it. A trinket for a trinket.” “It’s a family heirloom,”I said softly. “Even a fake one must mean something to you.” I grabbed his hand and pressed the jewel bracelet back into his palm. Asher stared into my eyes for a long moment before letting out a soft chuckle and putting the bracelet away. “Alright, Anya, right? I’ll remember that.” Back in the dorm, Brittany was sitting in front of the mirror applying lipstick, a brand-new Chanel bag beside her. “Well, well, look who decided to show up?” She shot me a sidelong glance in the mirror. I just went about putting my things away, ignoring her. Seeing that I didn’t bite, Brittany crossed her arms, scrutinizing me. “Anya, I told you to get rid of Asher. Where exactly did you get rid of him?” I stopped what I was doing and looked up at her. “Aren’t you with Brody? Why do you still care about Asher?” Brittany’s face instantly flushed, and she sneered. “Just a warning, I don’t want that pauper anymore, but isn’t it a bit gross to pick up my leftovers?” I lowered my eyes, saying nothing else. Arguing with an idiot was a waste of breath. That afternoon, I got a text from Asher. “Dinner tonight.” In the evening, I deliberately changed into a dress and waited for him by the campus gate. Asher arrived precisely on time, his usual cool, detached self. I walked behind him, silently wondering what his intentions were tonight. He suddenly stopped. “Anya, last night…” His words were cut off. “Well, well, isn’t that Asher?” I turned around to see Brittany, arm-in-arm with a smarmy, rich playboy, looking at us with a smirk. “What? Got dumped by me, and you’re already looking for your next conquest?” Brittany’s gaze swept over both of us, full of contempt. “Asher, a penniless guy like you, dating? Seriously? What can you even buy her?” Asher’s expression darkened. I stepped forward, blocking him. “Who I have dinner with is none of your business, is it?” Brittany’s rich boyfriend, Brody, eyed me with interest. “Is this your friend? She’s quite innocent-looking. Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight?” Brittany’s face instantly changed. She quickly tugged at Brody. “Honey, aren’t we supposed to see a movie? Don’t waste your time with these people.” With that, she glared at me, dragging the man away in a hurry. Asher looked at me. “You’re quite protective.” I lowered my head, exposing a pale neck. “I just thought she was going too far.” He suddenly chuckled, a hint of playfulness in his eyes. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

To reel in the big fish, a little bait was necessary. I made sure to track Asher’s movements, then changed into my uniform vest and stood at the mall entrance, holding a stack of flyers. The people coming and going were all loaded, without exception, and they gave me disdainful looks. “Hello, interested in a gym membership…?” A flyer dropped to the ground. I bent down to pick it up, but a hand reached it before mine. My heart skipped a beat. I looked up, and sure enough, it was Asher. He was wearing a yellow delivery uniform, holding an insulated delivery bag. “What a coincidence?” He handed me the flyer, a half-smile on his face. I paused, then my face lit up with surprise. “Asher? You’re here… working too?” Asher played along. “Just running a few orders.” I pulled him to sit on the steps by the mall’s side entrance, then took out a half-empty water bottle from my bag, a little embarrassed. “This is all I have. If you don’t mind…” Asher glanced at the bottle of water but didn’t take it. Instead, he pulled out an unlabeled bottle from his delivery bag, twisted it open, and handed it to me. “Drink this. A customer canceled the order.” I took it, sipping slowly. “Are you really struggling for money?” Asher leaned against the wall. “Yeah, I’m deep in debt. Not sure how I’ll even make rent next month.” I put down the bottle and reached out to hold his hand. “It’s okay.” I looked into his eyes, my voice firm. “I can pick up extra shifts. I’ll support you. As long as we work together, we’ll pay off the debt.” Asher’s fingers stiffened. He turned his head, staring at me intently. “Anya, what do you want from me?” I lowered my head, my cheeks slightly red. “I like you!” Asher smiled. “Alright, then you support me.” He gripped my hand in return. “Remember, you said it yourself. Don’t regret it.” I nodded vigorously. “Never.” Mr. Asher, you said it. Don’t come crying later. Brittany rallied the other roommates to freeze me out, loudly gossiping about me in the dorm. “So shameless, she’ll take any guy.” “Exactly, stealing Brittany’s man. She needs to look at herself.” I ignored them all. The skincare products Asher sent me were accidentally knocked over by Brittany and smashed into a million pieces. She rolled her eyes. “Who told you to leave your stuff everywhere?” I silently knelt down to clean up the mess. Later that evening, while on a FaceTime call with Asher, I was putting ointment on the back of my hand. “What happened to your hand?” he asked. “Huh? Nothing, just bumped it accidentally.” I hastily hid my hand behind my back. The camera, however, subtly scanned over the pile of shattered skincare bottles on the corner of my desk. The next day, Brittany’s rich boyfriend, Brody, suddenly had all his cards frozen by his family, and then he unceremoniously dumped her. Brittany was furious, cursing a blue streak in the dorm and smashing all her makeup. I knew Asher was behind it. Someone like him would never tolerate anyone touching what he considered his property. Even if it was just a toy. To solidify our relationship, I decided to give him a gift. I ordered a hand-knitted scarf online. I specifically requested it to be as ugly as possible, with as many loose threads as possible. It cost thirty bucks, mainly for the emotional value. Asher held the scarf, his expression a little hard to describe. I stood beside him, my face burning red. “I’m sorry… it’s my first time knitting. It’s too ugly, just throw it away.” I reached out to grab it back, but Asher dodged my hand. He wrapped the scarf around his neck. “It’s quite warm.” That night, Asher was exceptionally passionate. At a crucial moment, he suddenly paused. He cupped my chin. “Anya, if I stayed this poor, would you still be with me?” I hugged his neck tighter. “What are you talking about? I like you for who you are, not for your money.” I looked up, my eyes clear and full of deep affection. “As long as I can be with you, I’ll do anything.” Asher’s body stiffened, then came a more intense thrust. “Silly girl.” My gaze went over his shoulder, landing on the watch he’d casually tossed on the bedside table. A Patek Philippe Nautilus, already selling for seven figures on the secondhand market. I silently echoed, Idiot. The next day, his Ins feed updated with a selfie of him wearing the scarf. Although he’d blocked most people, at least he was willing to take a step. That post really got to Brittany. Dumped by the rich playboy, she remembered how good Asher, her backup, used to be. Unwilling to give up, she stormed to the guys’ dorm building to corner Asher. But instead, she watched him get into a black Maybach. Brittany was stunned on the spot. She rushed back to the dorm with the secretly taken photo and threw her phone in front of me. “Anya, you idiot, you’ve been scammed!” “I knew something was off. How could a pauper look so aristocratic? Asher is clearly just a kept man!” She grew more and more agitated, as if she’d stumbled upon some shocking secret. I looked at the photo, a cold laugh forming in my heart. Brittany, Brittany, your imagination only goes so far. A script like the City’s Crown Prince slumming it was clearly beyond your comprehension. I pushed her phone away. “Asher isn’t that kind of person.” Brittany scoffed, putting her phone away. “Whether he is or isn’t, we’ll find out tomorrow, won’t we?” “Anya, you just wait to cry.”

Of course, I wouldn’t ask. But an airhead like Brittany, if she really went to confront Asher about being an escort, given his temper, he’d definitely lose it on the spot and expose his identity. Then, it would be difficult for me to get close to him again. I looked at Brittany, then let out a cold laugh. “Brittany, did that rich playboy dump you, and now you’re desperate, trying to get back with Asher?” “So you’re putting on this whole show, trying to mess with us so you can swoop in?” Brittany’s face instantly turned purple. “What are you talking about? How could I ever be interested in a pauper like him?!” The more agitated she became, the more it proved I was right. “If you’re not interested, then why do you care if he’s an escort?” I pressed on. “Or is it that you just can’t stand to see me doing well?” Brittany glared at me viciously, but in the end, she didn’t go confront Asher. Soon, it was Asher’s birthday. I took out all my savings and maxed out my credit card to scrape together thirty thousand, then went to that upscale watch store I’d scouted earlier. You have to spend money to make money. On Asher’s birthday, Brittany announced she was dating another rich playboy, Trevor. “I’m not like some people, who can stomach dating a kept man.” I ignored her, carrying my plastic bag downstairs. Asher was waiting for me under the tree. “Asher.” Brittany lifted her chin, her face full of superiority. “Waiting for Anya here? You two are truly a match made in heaven, both reeking of poverty.” Trevor, the man with her, wrapped an arm around Brittany’s waist and gave Asher a disdainful look. “Hey, kid, I heard you used to chase Brittany. From now on, stay away from her. A bottom feeder should know his place.” Asher smiled. “Wishing you both a long and happy life together.” Brittany hadn’t expected him to be so straightforward. She froze for a moment, then let out a cold snort and turned to get into a Porsche. Asher stood there, and I walked over, silently standing behind him. He turned, his gaze falling on the black plastic bag in my hand. “What, ashamed of me?” I didn’t speak, instead conjuring a small box from behind my back. I opened the box and lit a candle. The wind was strong, so I cupped my hand around the flame. The orange glow flickered on my face as I looked up, forcing a smile. “Asher, happy birthday.” Asher’s gaze shifted from the cake to the band-aid on my hand. He stared at me, his previously mocking and cold eyes softening little by little. I sniffled, holding the cake up to him. “Make a wish!” The wind blew out the candle. For the first time, I saw a flicker of guilt in the eyes of this elite scion. Even if it was just for a second, it was enough. I handed him the expensive watch that had cost me all my savings. He opened the box, raising an eyebrow, seeming a little surprised, but he didn’t ask any questions. All the heartfelt words I’d prepared suddenly felt unnecessary.

Asher followed me back to my rented apartment. I went to the kitchen to wash my hands, carefully calculating the total cost. Thirty thousand for an entry ticket. This business deal was well worth it. Asher walked into the kitchen, wrapped his arms around me from behind, burying his head in the crook of my neck. I turned, and we embraced in a kiss. He kissed me passionately, then suddenly stopped. “Wait for me.” I watched him walk into the bathroom, his silhouette moving behind the frosted glass. The phone he’d left on the bedside table lit up. A notification glowed on the screen: “Your savings account has been credited: $10,000,000.00. Current balance: $134,578,990.50.” My heart slammed against my ribs. As if pulled by a string, my hand reached out. I punched in the password-memorized from a hundred stolen glances-and unlocked his phone with trembling fingers. The first thing I opened was the banking app. When I saw that impossible string of zeros with my own eyes, a wild laugh almost broke from my throat. A rush of pure, electric triumph flooded my brain. I won. I gambled and won. My life was going to be completely different from today. The rest of my life, no, the rest of my next life, was set. But greed knows no bounds. I wasn’t content just seeing his money. I wanted to see his world. It was the circle I’d only dreamed of entering-the city’s so-called “young royalty.” This was the key. My ticket into a world I’d spent years watching from the outside. I opened Snapchat. Pinned at the top was a group named The Bet. My stomach sank. A cold dread crept up my spine. I tapped it open. The most recent message was a photo. It was me-wearing that thin white tee, every curve visible, looking up with that carefully crafted mix of humility and invitation. “Asher, this chick is something else. Body’s a straight ten.” “Looks all sweet and innocent. Who knew she was that kind of girl?” My heart hammered against my ribs. Hands shaking, I tapped on Asher’s voice memo. “She’s…entertaining. With a body like that, it’d be a shame not to take her to bed.” I scrolled down. Every “chance” encounter, every “vulnerable” confession I’d ever made-all of it was there, dissected in real time. “So, Asher, what’s the timeline on this one?” “Bet she can’t keep up the innocent act past next week.” “The best part’s gonna be when she thinks she’s got you hooked…and you ghost her.” I clutched the phone. Ice seemed to pour down my spine, freezing me from the inside out. Every clever move, every calculated step-in his eyes, it was nothing but a clumsy, laughable performance. A wave of shame-raw, humiliating, all-consuming-crashed over me, followed by the fury of being played and a cold, gripping fear of what came next. The bathroom door opened. I didn’t have time to hide the phone, only to lift my head, stiff. Asher stood in the doorway, a towel slung low around his hips, water still beading in his dark hair. He leaned against the frame, pulled a cigarette from a pack, and lit it. Through the swirling smoke, he looked at me, his face filled with condescending mockery. “What, Anya? Can’t keep playing the game?”

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To save me from end-stage kidney failure, Mom sold her wedding ring and became a food delivery driver, working days and nights. She always said, “Mia, you’re the only reason I’m alive.” For three years, since the diagnosis, I had been a vampire to my family, slowly draining the life from her. The day a typhoon hit, Mom had to go out again. I clutched her hand, pleading with her not to go. But her face hardened. “If I don’t risk my life for money, how do I buy yours?!” “In this house, being broke is scarier than any storm! If you want to live, then be quiet!” “You think a typhoon scares me? I’d walk through hell and back for you!” She pulled on her delivery jacket and vanished into the downpour. But Mom didn’t know, I didn’t want to live anymore. If I died, she wouldn’t have to struggle. I was a burden. Once that thought took root, it grew into a towering tree. I walked back to my room and locked the door. Sitting at my easel, I reached for the long-term catheter just below my collarbone. My hand trembled, not from fear, but from my body’s own primal resistance. All I could see was Mom’s exhausted face. I clenched my teeth, grabbed the catheter’s connector, and pulled. A searing pain tore through me. A choked cry escaped. Cold sweat drenched my back in an instant. Warm blood welled out, tracing a path down my collarbone, across my chest, and dripping onto the floor. I picked up a brush and loaded it with paint. I had to paint. One last piece. On the canvas, a figure in a raincoat rode an electric scooter, fighting through wind and rain. It was Mom. But I didn’t want to paint a gloomy typhoon day. I wanted to paint her a rainbow. I wanted her to ride on that rainbow, to all the faraway places I longed to go but couldn’t. More and more blood flowed, and the warmth drained from my body, bit by bit. It was so cold. My vision blurred, and the paintbrush in my hand felt impossibly heavy. “Mia?” A familiar voice brushed against my ear. I strained to turn my head. In the dim corner of the room stood a man. He wore faded work clothes, a hard hat held in his hands, and on his face was a kind, simple smile. It was Dad. Arthur. He looked just as he had three years ago when he left-not a day older. “Dad…” My lips parted. The word came out a whisper, thin as a mosquito’s hum. Tears and cold sweat mingled on my face. Dad used to lift me onto his shoulders so I could see the world. He’d spend his entire paycheck the day he got it, just to spoil me with candy. When I got sick, he buried himself in construction, working every grueling shift he could find. That last day, he took a high-altitude job for an extra thirty dollars-and slipped from the scaffolding. They found him still clutching the money he’d saved for my medicine. Dad walked over now and crouched beside me, his hand reaching to touch my head. “Mia, does it hurt?” “Finish that stroke. Then I’ll take you somewhere it won’t.” I looked at him, forcing a grotesque smile. “Dad, just a little longer.” “I have to finish Mom’s raincoat. Can’t let her get wet.” I looked back at the canvas. My wrist was too weak, so I used my whole arm to guide the brush. Yellow paint piled up on the canvas, but Mom’s face wasn’t painted yet. I couldn’t see clearly anymore. A blood-red fog enveloped my vision. The paintbrush slipped from my hand, rolling twice on the floor, stained with my blood. My body collapsed backward, uncontrollably. So tired, truly exhausted. For three years, every dialysis session dragged me to the edge of death. Now, it was over. No more dialysis. No more bitter pills. No more watching Mom haggle over cents at the market. Outside the window, a clap of thunder echoed, and lightning illuminated the cramped rental room. It also illuminated me, lying in a pool of blood. Mom, I’m sorry. I wasn’t a good daughter in this life. Next life, I won’t come. You live well for yourself. The moment my consciousness completely plunged into darkness, I felt my body lighten. I floated up, all the way to the ceiling. I looked down and saw myself. Skeletal, my face pale, blood pooling on the floor from my chest. I was dead. This floating feeling was strange, wondrous. But I didn’t want to leave yet. I needed to check on Mom. With such heavy rain, I hoped she wouldn’t fall.

The thought had barely formed when an invisible force pulled me out. Through walls, through the rain. The wind howled, and rain poured down like a waterfall. But I felt no cold, no wetness. I was beside Mom. The water here was already past her ankles. The street had turned into a murky river. Trees along the road swayed violently in the wind. Mom hunched over the handlebars of her second-hand scooter, the rain slicker clinging to her back. Her helmet visor was completely fogged. “Order approaching overtime. Deliver immediately.” A notification chimed from her phone. She swiped a glove across the visor. “What’s the damn hurry?!” A glance at the navigation. The destination was a luxury complex downtown. “This one… the delivery fee plus the storm surcharge… fifty-five dollars.” “Enough for two of Mia’s supplement shakes.” She muttered into the rain, her gaze fixed ahead, hard with determination. For those fifty-five dollars, she twisted the scooter’s throttle to its maximum speed. The navigation showed severe flooding on the main road ahead and suggested a detour. Mom stopped and saw the detour would add an extra three miles. It would definitely cause a delay, and a delay meant a penalty, or even her account being deactivated. Mom gritted her teeth, turned the handlebars, and veered into an old, narrow alleyway. It was a shortcut, but the road was terrible, full of potholes. “Mom! Don’t go there!” I floated above her, yelling. “That path has no lights! It’s all mud pits!” But she couldn’t hear me. The electric scooter struggled forward in the muddy water. Suddenly. A blinding beam of headlights shone directly at her. A car, driving against traffic, swerved sharply to avoid a fallen tree branch. It rushed straight towards Mom! “Look out!!” I shrieked, lunging forward, trying to push the car away. My hand passed right through the car’s hood, through the engine. Nothing could stop it. Mom reacted incredibly fast. She sharply tilted the scooter to the side, her arm clamped tightly around the food delivery box in her lap. Bang! She and the scooter tumbled heavily into a muddy ditch at the roadside. But her hands were still fiercely protecting the delivery box. She ran her fingers through her wet hair on her forehead. “As long as the delivery box is fine!” The car didn’t even stop, accelerating away. Splashing mud splattered all over Mom. “Mom!” I cried, kneeling beside her. Mom lay in the mud, motionless for a long time. My heart leaped into my throat. After several agonizing seconds, she moved. She painfully pushed herself up. In that moment, her face twisted in a grimace of pain. The fabric of her pants was torn at her right knee, skin peeled back, and bright red blood seeped out. It looked incredibly painful. But the first thing she did after scrambling up wasn’t to check her leg. She frantically opened the protected delivery box. The seafood porridge inside was perfectly intact, shielded by the foam container, not a single drop spilled. Mom let out a long breath. She sat in the mud, wiped her face, and even managed a faint, foolish smile. “Good, it didn’t spill.” “Fifty-five dollars saved.” In that moment, my heart was shredded. I wanted to slap that driver, I wanted to smash that cursed delivery box. I wanted to hold her, to tell her to stop. “Mom! I won’t eat anymore! I won’t get treated anymore!” “I’m already dead! You don’t need to earn this money!” “Look at your leg! It’s bleeding!” I screamed into her ear, crying myself hoarse. Mom seemed to sense something. She shivered, looking back at the empty space behind her. “Why does it feel like someone’s here…” She mumbled, struggling to lift her electric scooter. The handlebars were bent, the rearview mirror shattered. But it could still be ridden. She limped onto the scooter, pushing forward into the downpour, continuing her deliveries. Her back, so stubborn, made me want to cry. I floated right behind her. Watching her deliver the porridge to the villa’s doorstep. The villa’s owner, a woman, held her nose in disgust, taking the takeout. She didn’t even say thank you, instead complaining, “What took you so long? The bag’s all wet.” Mom just offered a placating smile. “I’m so sorry, the rain was really heavy. Enjoy your meal, and please leave a good review.” The door closed. Mom stood under the mansion’s eaves, sheltering from the rain for a while. She pulled out her phone and checked her balance. With this order, her earnings for the day topped three hundred dollars. Her eyes lit up. “Mia’s dialysis fee for next week is covered.” She patted the mud from her leg, then turned and plunged back into the rain, continuing her deliveries.

It was two in the morning. The rain had eased, turning into a gentle drizzle. The sensor light in the stairwell had been broken for ages, leaving it pitch black. Mom dragged her injured leg, inching her way up, step by painful step. With every step, she had to lean against the wall and catch her breath. That leg was already swollen like a balloon, blood and fabric stuck together. I floated ahead of her, watching her agony, my heart aching to the point of suffocation. Finally home, Mom glanced down at herself as she entered – covered in mud. She had been carefully protecting a plastic bag in her arms. She opened it and looked inside. It was a slightly wrinkled box, soaked from the rain. Written on it in English: “Winsor & Newton.” The brand of paint every art student dreamed of. It was expensive. That small box cost several hundred dollars. I had often gazed at it longingly through the art supply store window, but I’d never dared to mention it to Mom. She actually remembered. “Mia will be so happy now.” Mom grinned, mud caked even in the wrinkles around her eyes. She saw my door was closed, reached out to open it, then hesitated and pulled her hand back. “It’s so late, Mia must be asleep.” “If I go in, I’ll just wake her up. That girl’s a light sleeper; if she wakes up, she’ll just worry about me.” Mom sighed. She found a small stool in the corner and dragged it to my door, then sat down heavily. Hiss- Her wound burned. She gasped, sharp pain stealing her breath. From under the coffee table, she pulled a bottle of antiseptic, gritted her teeth, and poured it directly onto the raw flesh. I watched her tremble, her teeth biting into the back of her hand to silence any sound. My tears fell, one by one, onto her wounded leg. But the tears of a ghost, they have no warmth. After tending to her wound, Mom leaned against the doorframe. She hugged the paint box, pressed her ear to the door, listening for any movement inside. “Mia, are you asleep?” She whispered through the crack in the door, her voice as soft as water. “Mom was amazing today, darling. I was the top earner, made over four hundred bucks.” “With this box of paints, once you’re better, Mom will send you to New York.” “I heard there’s an artist there who teaches painting.” “Our Mia has such talent; you’ll definitely be a great painter someday.” “Then, Mom won’t deliver food anymore. I’ll be your model, and cook you pot roast every day.” She prattled on, her face glowing with a kind of happiness I’d never seen before. It was an anticipation of the future, an unwavering belief in her daughter’s survival. But she didn’t know that, just behind that door. I was already lying in a pool of blood. I reached out to touch her face. “Mom…” My hand passed through her cheek. “I’m so sorry. I can’t stay with you…” “Without me, you’ll live a good life…” “You won’t have to struggle anymore!” But Mom couldn’t hear me. She was exhausted. Even as she murmured, her eyelids grew heavy. She fell asleep right there-hugging the paint box, leaning against my bedroom door on that little stool. A faint smile still lingered on her lips. Maybe in her dream, she saw me go to college. Saw me healed. Saw us moving into a house full of light.

The rain had stopped. Morning sun streamed through the window, falling directly across Mom’s face. She jerked awake. Her first instinct was to check her phone for the time. “Oh no! Rush hour is starting!” She scrambled to her feet. The gash on her leg, after a night’s rest, had crusted into a dark scab. Every step sent a sharp, burning pain through her. She ignored it. Gently, she set the paint box down on the coffee table. Then she hurried into the kitchen and, with practiced ease, slid a poached egg into a bowl. It was her special brown sugar poached egg-my favorite, the one she always said would give me strength. She put the bowl on the table, then hesitated before knocking on my door. Her hand hovered in mid-air, then dropped. “Let her sleep a little longer,” Mom murmured to herself. She found a pen and paper, wrote a sticky note, and affixed it to my bedroom door. “Food’s on the table, eat it while it’s hot. Your paints are on the shoe rack, Mom bought them specially for you. Mom loves you.” Her handwriting was shaky, her hand still trembling. Before leaving, she sniffed the air. “Why is there a metallic scent?” She looked around suspiciously. Finally, her gaze fell on the wound on her leg. “Must be the wound. Smells awful.” She didn’t think much more of it, grabbed her helmet, and hurried out the door. Noon, the sun blazed overhead. Mom was out on a delivery when her phone rang. It was Carol from next door. “Carol, what’s up?” Mom held the phone between her shoulder and ear, still climbing stairs. On the other end, Carol’s voice, usually dripping with sarcasm, was now laced with pure panic. “Elara Reed! What is going on at your place?!” “Did something die in there? The stench is oozing out from under your door, flies everywhere! My grandson’s crying from the stench!” “You need to come home and deal with it! It’s disgusting!” Mom’s delivery fell to the ground, soup spilling everywhere. But she didn’t even notice, her mind a blank. Mia was still home! “Mia…” Mom raced downstairs like a madwoman. She hopped on her beat-up scooter, ignoring red lights, driving against traffic, speeding frantically through the flow of cars. The wind whipped her hair into a wild mess. Her face was ghost-white, her lips trembling, as she kept muttering. “It’s fine… it has to be fine…” “It’s just the drain pipe clogged…” “Mia’s sleeping… Mia’s painting…” I followed behind her, watching her narrowly avoid several crashes, finally arriving home safely. Carol was standing at the doorway, grumbling. Seeing Mom, she clutched her nose and backed away several steps. “Oh, you’re finally back. Hurry, open the door and see, this is just terrible!” Mom pushed through the main door. The smell was leaking from my room. Her hand shook as she pulled out the key, but when she jammed it into the lock, it wouldn’t turn. Desperate, Mom hurled the key to the floor and screamed. “Mia! Open the door! Don’t scare me! Please!” She threw her whole weight against it, shoving with all her strength. The door gave away. She stood frozen in the doorway, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks. There I was, curled in a pool of blood. Beside me lay an unfinished painting. In it, Mom was wearing a yellow raincoat, riding her scooter across a rainbow.

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On our fifth wedding anniversary, my mother fell critically ill. In desperation, I had no choice but to sell the gold jewelry Alexander Thorne had given me when we got engaged. At current market prices, it was worth about $90,000, just enough for my mother’s surgery. But before I could even breathe a sigh of relief, the sales associate looked at me with disdain. “Ma’am, these pieces are fake. They’re worth less than two thousand dollars, at best.” “Fake?” I froze, stunned. Before I could process it, a familiar female voice suddenly drifted over— “When will the golden throne Alexander ordered for me be delivered? He said I’m his delicate little princess, unlike some cheap women who are easily satisfied with knock-offs!” I turned, meeting a pair of mocking eyes. It was Serena, Alexander Thorne’s secretary, the one he was always talking about. The young woman was decked out in designer clothes, looking perfectly polished. Unlike her usual humble and polite demeanor when she faced me, now, the challenge in her eyes was completely unconcealed. I instantly realized: Alexander Thorne was cheating on me. “Oh, Ms. Serena, what perfect timing! Mr. Thorne’s Hermès order from last Wednesday just arrived!” The sales associate at the next counter enthusiastically chatted with Serena. I flinched. Last Wednesday was Lily’s birthday. But Lily and I waited until 2 AM, and Alexander never came home. He said he was busy with work, but it turned out he was busy with another woman. My chest ached, my eyes burned, but I dug my nails into my palms, trying to hold it together. I forced myself to remain calm. “Some people act like they’re living the high life, a trophy wife with everything, but they can’t even keep their husband’s attention.” “And what’s worse, at an age when she’s already being cast aside, she finds out even her wedding jewelry was fake! How pathetic!” Serena scoffed, raising an eyebrow at me. I forced a strained smile, my voice flat. “But no matter what, it’s better than being a rat crawling out of the gutter, wouldn’t you agree?” Serena’s face changed. I ignored her, my steps stiff as I walked away. Back home, I pulled out all the designer bags and jewelry Alexander had given me, intending to sell them. But the results were, without exception, all fakes. The revelation hit me like a plunge into icy waters. Three years of dating, five years of marriage… what did I even mean to Alexander Thorne? Thinking of my mother’s surgery costs, I swallowed my heartbreak and rushed to Alexander Thorne’s company. I brushed past the startled secretary who was about to announce my arrival, standing emotionless outside Alexander Thorne’s office door. Just as I was about to enter, I heard a familiar voice, filled with utter disdain— “I never loved Elara Lin. Back then, she went to great lengths to win over my mother, which is why I was forced to be with her.” “Later, when she was humiliated by all those people, I just watched.” “A woman so tainted, so utterly cheap. Giving her the title of ‘Mrs. Thorne’ was already more than enough; what more could she possibly want?” I froze in disbelief, staring blankly at Alexander. The disgust in his eyes when he spoke of me pierced me like a blade. Alexander Thorne was the older student I had a crush on back in college. It was me who saved his mother, who needed a blood transfusion after a car accident. And it was me who pulled all-nighters writing business proposals, supporting him as he started his company. Eight years ago, in the dead of winter, Alexander’s startup failed, leaving him with massive debts. Debt collectors came to our door, and when they couldn’t get their money, they humiliated me right in front of him. At that moment, Alexander’s eyes were shockingly red, like a trapped beast with its throat choked. He proposed to me then and there. He swore he’d never let me down, not ever. After we married, I quickly gave birth to our daughter. As Alexander Thorne’s business grew, I willingly stepped back, managing everything at home. But I never imagined that in Alexander Thorne’s heart, I was so cheap! Eight years, and all I got in return was his disdain! “Alexander.” I suddenly burst into his office. He flinched, instinctively pushing Serena off his lap. “Elara, how long have you been here?” I didn’t answer. Instead, I went straight to asking for money. Alexander Thorne frowned. “How much?” “Ninety thousand dollars.” “Mrs. Thorne!” Serena gasped suddenly. She looked at me with a condemning gaze. “How can you be so demanding? Asking for ninety thousand dollars just like that? Don’t you ever think about Mr. Thorne?” I sneered. “What does my private business with Alexander have to do with you?” Serena’s eyes reddened. “Mrs. Thorne, you always use your status as Mrs. Thorne to humiliate me. I can take it, but I just feel for Mr. Thorne…” A flicker of emotion crossed Alexander’s eyes. When he looked back at me, there was displeasure in his gaze. “Elara, the company’s cash flow isn’t great right now; I can’t spare that much.” His tone shifted. “Besides, you never cared for these things before, did you?” I stared at him deeply. “Alexander, my mother is critically ill. That’s her life savings!”

Alexander Thorne paused, but what came out was, “Elara, you’d stoop to such lies just for money now?” It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over me. “Alexander, I’m not lying. My mother is in the hospital right now—” I hadn’t finished speaking when Serena suddenly rushed at me, gripping my wrist tightly. “Mrs. Thorne, I beg you, please understand how hard Mr. Thorne works. If you have grievances, take them out on me!” She looked so frail and pitiful. I hadn’t done a thing, yet she just collapsed to the floor. The next second, Alexander immediately helped her up, his face filled with concern. When he looked back at me, his eyes blazed with suppressed anger. “Elara, I never realized you could be so unreasonable, all for money!” “When did you become so obsessed with money?” Me, obsessed with money? I thought of Serena’s golden throne and couldn’t help but let out a sarcastic laugh. Alexander wished he could house her in a golden palace, but when it came to me, just ninety thousand dollars, and he thought I was materialistic. It truly proved the saying: a man’s love follows his money. I was about to speak when my phone rang suddenly. It was Lily’s kindergarten teacher. “Hello? Is this Lily’s mom? Please come to the kindergarten quickly, Lily’s been hurt!” My face instantly tightened. Without asking too many questions, I hurried to the kindergarten. Half an hour later, I spotted my daughter, huddled and trembling in a corner. She was covered in dirt, bruised all over, her face streaked with tears. My heart instantly ached, and my eyes burned. “What happened? How did Lily get such serious injuries?” The teacher hesitated, then showed me the security footage. Then, I saw a boy, maybe four or five, had Lily pinned to the ground, kicking her hard in the stomach! Lily cried and begged him to stop, but the boy acted as if he didn’t hear her. He even grabbed her hair, slamming her head against the floor again and again! “Why are you hurting Lily!” My face was ashen as I yelled at the boy. He flinched back in fear, then suddenly burst into tears. “Bad woman! You’re bullying me! I’ll tell my dad to kill you!” I sneered, about to scold him. But the next second, Alexander Thorne, who had just rushed in, suddenly changed his expression. He grabbed my wrist forcefully, shoving me to the ground! “Elara, what are you doing!” “You’re a grown adult, bullying a child?” I fell to the ground, my lower back slamming into the table corner, searing with pain. But nothing hurt as much as the rage in my heart. “Alexander, your own daughter is seriously hurt, and you’re ignoring her to care about the one who hurt her?” Alexander, had he gone mad? “Mrs. Thorne!” Suddenly, Serena grabbed the boy and pulled him into a hug, saying, on the verge of tears, “It’s one thing for you to bully me, but why can’t you leave my child alone!” “Poor Devin is so small, and he doesn’t have a father to stand up for him…” A flicker of sympathy instantly crossed Alexander’s eyes, and he looked like he wanted to say something, but hesitated. My mind exploded, a deafening ringing in my ears. It turned out that Alexander and Serena already had a four-year-old child. That meant he’d been cheating on me since the first year of our marriage… “Ha…” A profound irony flooded my heart, and an overwhelming sense of absurdity made me laugh. “Alexander, take a good look at Lily’s injuries. Are you still going to side with Serena?” Alexander Thorne’s gaze fell on Lily, cradled in my arms. Lily’s small face was pale with pain, yet she was still pitifully calling out, “Daddy.” Alexander Thorne frowned. But the next second, his face grew indifferent as he said, “Kids roughhousing is normal; why are you making such a big deal out of it?” “Besides, Devin twisted his ankle too.” With that, he picked up the boy and turned to leave. “I’ll take Devin to the hospital first.” I was struck dumb, as if hit by lightning. I watched his resolute back, unable to snap out of it for a long time. I never thought Alexander Thorne could be so heartless, abandoning even his own flesh and blood. “Elara…” Serena sneered at me, whispering in my ear, “Do you know why Alexander is so indifferent to your daughter?” “He once told me that you got pregnant not long after *those people* humiliated you. Who knows if the child is even his?” The woman walked away with light steps. Only I remained, plunged into an abyss of ice. Back then, when I was humiliated and desperate enough to want to end my life, Alexander Thorne stayed by my side, swearing repeatedly that he would love me with his life. Yet now, he despised my own daughter so much! “Ha…” I gave a self-deprecating laugh and took Lily to the hospital. After her injuries began to heal, I asked in a daze, “Lily, if someday, Daddy and Mommy have to separate, who would you choose?” Lily, though clearly still in pain, gave me a sunny smile. “Lily loves Mommy very much, and she also loves Daddy.” “But if Daddy is mean to Mommy, Lily won’t want Daddy anymore!” My nose stung, and I pulled Lily into a tight hug. The decision in my heart solidified. The next second, I made a call. “Mr. Davis, please draft a divorce agreement for me.” “In three days, all of Thorne Corp.’s assets will be transferred to my name. Just go ahead and do it.”

I had done Alexander Thorne’s mother a great kindness. Back then, before Alexander and I were married, his mother felt deeply indebted to me. So she had Alexander sign an agreement with me. If Alexander ever wronged me, I could unilaterally divorce him and claim all assets under his name. Alexander didn’t think I was cheap and unworthy of his money? Fine, if he wanted to play dirty, then so would I! Once the agreement automatically took effect, I would still get the money for my mother’s surgery! A huge weight lifted from my shoulders. The entire next day, I was busy taking care of my mother and daughter. Alexander hadn’t sent a single message asking how we were. I saw on Serena’s Ins that Alexander had bought her another luxury car. He also bought her all the latest designer bags for the season. Each one was worth over $90,000. Alexander seemed to be trying to declare war on me this way. But I just smiled and even liked the post. That evening, Alexander returned home, his face dark. “Elara, are you trying to spite me?” “Serena and I are purely platonic. Your status as Mrs. Thorne won’t be shaken. Why do you always have to go after her and her son?” He had a four-year-old son, and he still dared to talk about being “platonic.” I sneered, and we argued for a few more minutes. “Tomorrow night is Serena’s birthday. You *must* come and apologize to her in person.” Finally, Alexander left those words and walked away. To avoid any trouble, the next day, I arrived on time. The moment I pushed open the villa doors, I was almost blinded by the golden extravagance everywhere. Serena stood in the center of the crowd, adored like a star, seated on a gleaming golden throne. A carpet woven from 999 golden roses spread at her feet. Alexander Thorne’s friends were all lavishing her with compliments. The moment I appeared, the atmosphere instantly froze. Alexander’s face was cold, and his eyes signaled for me to apologize. But I didn’t even bother to lift an eyelid, walking straight to a corner seat. Alexander’s face darkened, and he was about to say something, but Serena spoke first. “Mr. Thorne, it’s alright. It was just kids playing rough. If Elara doesn’t want to, then don’t force her.” “Serena, you’re always so understanding.” Alexander sighed, his voice filled with concern. Even though I had long been utterly disappointed in him, a wave of icy despair washed over me. When Alexander was just starting his business, money was tight. I never spent an extra dime. My clothes were faded from countless washes, and I reheated meals three times over. But all I got in return was him calling me “obsessed with money.” The party continued as usual. When it was time for the birthday tribute video, the lights suddenly dimmed. Then, the big screen lit up, and the painful moans of a woman filled the air! The next second, the video of *me* being humiliated was broadcast for everyone to see! “Holy hell, is that *her*?” “My god, Thorne is going to be utterly disgraced by her this time!” My face instantly went white. Fear surged like a tide, threatening to drown me! Alexander instinctively stood up, ordering someone to cut the video. He chided the guests’ whispering, but countless strange looks still fell upon me. My body trembled. I suddenly realized something and met Serena’s gaze. Sure enough, I saw a flicker of triumph in her eyes! It was her! “Serena!” Rage flared, and I slapped her hard. “Ah! Mrs. Thorne, why did you hit me?” The next second, I was violently shoved, crashing to the ground. The champagne tower shattered, sending shards of glass cutting into my skin. Alexander looked at my disheveled state, frowning in disgust. “Elara, this is *your* own mistake; what does it have to do with Serena!” “Because of you, I’ve been constantly criticized for years. What more do you want?” Back then, I was clearly dragged into it because of Alexander. At that time, he was heartbroken, but now, he was saying it was my own mistake! My heart felt ripped apart, and tears streamed from my eyes. “Alexander, how can you blame me? Back then, it was clearly—” I hadn’t finished speaking when my phone rang frantically. “Ms. Lin, it’s bad! Your mother’s condition has suddenly worsened rapidly; she needs surgery immediately!” I froze, my face instantly pale as paper. How could it happen so fast? The doctor had said there was still time… Thinking of my mother’s frail body, I ignored my pain and dignity, scrambling to Alexander’s feet. Crying out, I said, “Alexander, my mother really is sick, and she needs surgery now!” “Please, I’m begging you, lend me ninety thousand dollars!” Alexander Thorne frowned, staring intently at me. But the next second, a look of disappointment crossed his eyes, and he pushed me away. “Elara, at a time like this, you’re still lying just for money!” “You ruined Serena’s birthday party. If you can’t get her forgiveness, I won’t give you a single dime!” I stared, wide-eyed in disbelief, trying to show Alexander Thorne the call log and my mother’s medical records. But he turned his head away in disgust. Finally, resigned, I apologized to Serena. But she slowly, deliberately, said, “It’s not that I want to make things difficult for you, but you hit me without any reason. If you want my forgiveness…” “How about you let me slap you one hundred times?”

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The night Adrian Donovan demanded to know why I didn’t bring him a birthday gift—while Sierra’s lipstick was still smudged on his mouth. Everyone expected me to swallow my pride and beg him not to replace me. But I knew I was done. Instead, I emptied my investments from his company, and packed for a new life he couldn’t reach. He thought I’d break. But he forgot one thing—when I finally leave, I never look back. At a company dinner, my fiancé’s junior assistant, Sierra Stone, shamelessly placed a carrot stick she’d already taken a bite from onto his plate, right in front of everyone. Without a second thought, Adrian Donovan picked it up and ate it. That same day, I told my parents I wanted to change my fiancé. They were surprised, but they respected my choice. After that, Adrian and I entered our usual silent treatment phase. He deleted and blocked me everywhere—my phone number, all my social media, even our game accounts. It was his go-to move every time we fought. He was confident I couldn’t bear to lose him, that I’d humble myself and try to win him back. But this time, I stared at that ‘add friend’ button and didn’t press it, not like all the times before. A week later, a notice popped up in the company group chat: “It’s Mr. Donovan’s birthday today! He’s treating, and everyone must attend. No exceptions.” I didn’t want to make a scene, so I went. As I entered the private room, I immediately saw Adrian at the head of the table, with Sierra seated right next to him. Sierra’s lips were pressed close to Adrian’s ear, as if sharing some secret. It was like they had an invisible bubble around them, a world no one else could enter. A moment later, they burst into laughter, so close they almost kissed. I couldn’t bear to watch anymore and found a quiet corner to sit in. Everyone started giving Adrian gifts, but I paid them no mind. I was quietly sipping my drink when suddenly, a shadow fell over me. I looked up to see Adrian’s overly handsome face, but his expression was the same familiar annoyance. “Clara Miller, why didn’t you get me a gift?” In the past, for a day as important as Adrian’s birthday, I would have started planning ages ago. One year, I spent over six months building a perfectly scaled replica of the flying house from his favorite movie, *Up*. The moment the balloons lifted it into the sky, he told me we’d grow old together, just like the characters in the film. I believed him then, never imagining his promise wouldn’t even last three years. Facing his persistent questions, I simply replied, “I forgot.” My attitude clearly infuriated Adrian. He completely lost his patience. “Clara Miller, have you made enough of a scene?” “Is this tiny thing really worth a week of drama?” I looked at the smudge of Sierra’s lipstick on his lips, and my stomach churned. “I’m not making a scene. And I’m serious about calling off the engagement.” Hearing that, Adrian’s expression stiffened for a second, but it quickly recovered when Sierra gently squeezed his hand. “Clara, please don’t misunderstand. I just didn’t want to waste food, that’s why I gave it to Adrian. If you hate me so much, then next time we have a dinner, I just won’t sit at the table. I’ll just wait and eat whatever scraps are left over.” Sierra’s words instantly tugged at Adrian’s heart. “Sierra, don’t talk like that! You deserve the best things in the world. Clara Miller is the one who shouldn’t be here. Who does she think she is? Does the world revolve around her tastes?” “Adrian, you really shouldn’t say things like that. Clara might be a bit dramatic, but she’s still your fiancée. You should try to make her happy. I really don’t want you two fighting because of me.” “Make her happy? Who does she think she is? If my parents hadn’t begged me to go through with this family arrangement, I’d never be with her. She gets upset over every little thing; it’s so annoying.” Sierra walked over to me, patted my back, and said in a heartfelt tone, “Clara, honestly, from a woman’s perspective, you really were a bit childish this time. Adrian hasn’t been able to sleep these past few nights because of you. While I also feel your personalities don’t quite match, you two are still engaged. You should both take a step back.” I slapped her hand away and sneered. “Sierra Stone, do you know what I admire most about you?” “It’s your blatant lies, and how you say such disgusting things while stealing someone else’s boyfriend without a shred of shame.” Sierra’s triumphant expression instantly froze. Adrian completely lost it. “Clara Miller, who gave you permission to slander Sierra like that?” “Slander? Then tell me, why does she have one of everything you buy for me? And why does she flaunt it in front of me at the office? Why does she intentionally spread rumors in the company break room every time we argue? And how does she know about that birthmark in such a private place?” “Enough!” Smack. Adrian slapped me across the face in front of everyone. My ears rang, and the world spun into a chaotic blur. Yet, my eyes clearly saw the pity, sympathy, mockery, and disgust on the faces of everyone in the room. 2. When my hearing finally cleared, I heard Adrian’s loud declaration: “From today on, feel free to like my and Sierra’s photos! If we hit a thousand likes, I’m dumping Clara Miller and marrying Sierra.” With that, he pulled Sierra and walked out without looking back. Before they left the room, Sierra gave me a smug, defiant look. After they left, people in the room started leaving one by one. Someone gloated, “She doesn’t even have the leverage to cause trouble, and now she’s gone too far, hasn’t she? Regrets now, doesn’t she?” Others kindly advised me, “Forget your pride; just swallow it and apologize. Otherwise, Mr. Donovan really will marry Sierra.” I knew this was Adrian’s way of forcing me to apologize. But this time, I refused to back down. Not even if it killed me. The once bustling room quickly emptied until only I remained. I picked up the remaining strong liquor and drained it. The fiery alcohol burned its way down my throat and into my stomach. It made my eyes sting. A connection spanning almost our entire lives, really ending, felt surprisingly hollow. An arranged marriage thousands of miles away in Veridia—he surely wouldn’t bother me there, right? But why were my cheeks wet again? I couldn’t tell. I went home and immediately started packing my things, ready to leave. Adrian and I grew up together; we spent more than half of our short lives side by side. The depth of our relationship meant I had too many things to sort through. This gold star sticker was the first reward Adrian received in kindergarten. He’d toddled over to me on his short legs and handed it to me. I vaguely remembered him saying then, “I want to give all the best things to my little Clara.” This photo was one he’d secretly taken of my flushed face the first time I got my period. I’d zoned out during biology class, so I thought I had a terminal illness. I ran to him, telling him to take good care of himself for the rest of his life, and that he could find a girlfriend, but she couldn’t be prettier than me. He listened, completely bewildered. After he pressed for details, he realized I’d just started my period. He rushed to the drugstore to buy me some pads and even searched online with me for how to use them. He laughed at me for not paying attention in class, and I flushed crimson, biting his arm hard. Later, he told me that bite hadn’t hurt at all, but it was the first time he’d felt something different for me. Eventually, we got together, but going to different colleges forced us into a long-distance relationship. Our memories became a stack of train tickets. For four whole years, 193,700 kilometers was the distance we traveled to be with each other. Back then, his eyes were only for me. No matter how long the journey, he never complained. My fingers brushed a small, hard box containing the matching rings we designed together. For him, I moved back to this city after college. The day I returned, he dragged me to get these rings custom-made. I still remember him slipping the ring onto my finger and saying, “Clara, with this ring, you’re stuck with me for life. You’ll never be able to leave me.” Neither of us ever imagined that, in the end, it wouldn’t be me who let go, but him. 3. The day Sierra came in for her company interview, she performed terribly. Adrian was openly dismissive of her. I didn’t pay much attention to this underqualified and underperforming candidate either. But for some reason, she was eventually hired anyway, against all odds. She even slowly transformed from an insignificant nobody into Adrian’s personal assistant. I only truly started to notice something was wrong when our matching rings, the ones only Adrian and I shared, appeared on Sierra’s hand. At first, when I confronted him, Adrian would patiently explain things and try to appease me. But over time, he just grew impatient. My repeated reluctance, tolerance, and efforts to please him only made his favoritism toward Sierra more blatant. At company dinners, he’d only order Sierra’s favorite dishes. Sierra only worked half a day a week; the rest of her time was spent playing around with Adrian. And all of Sierra’s actual assistant work? Adrian pushed it onto me. Adrian mentioned her more and more in front of me. At first, it was unconscious praise and admiration. Later, he’d compare me to her, complaining I wasn’t as understanding or considerate as she was. It came to a head during a company afternoon tea. Adrian said his coffee tasted good. Sierra said she wanted to try it, and without a word, Adrian handed his coffee to her. Sierra took a big sip from the straw Adrian had used, without him even bothering to change it. He even took the coffee back and continued to drink from it, right where her lipstick print was. In that moment, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, a raw, aching pain. From then on, his so-called ‘best girl friend’ Sierra crossed more and more lines. Afraid Adrian would get sunburned, she’d brazenly rub sunscreen all over his body. I’d make him packed lunches, and she’d make them too. She’d always eat my packed lunches, under the pretense that my cooking was just “too good” to resist, and then make Adrian eat hers. Even my birthday celebration, which Adrian had promised, was canceled because Sierra claimed she had a cold. But every time I expressed my unhappiness about these things, Adrian would impatiently say, “Clara Miller, your mind is just so dirty, everything looks dirty to you. Sierra and I are just friends; don’t taint it with your twisted mind.” But as time went on, he said it with less and less conviction, his voice wavering. The most disheartening moment was a major industry event. The organizers required attendees to bring a partner, but Adrian didn’t tell me at all. He just took Sierra. I only found out afterward, when several people repeatedly asked if Adrian and I had broken up. When I confronted him, Adrian was even angrier than I was. “I was just helping Sierra expand her network, and training talent for the company. Why are you so petty?” That time, we gave each other the silent treatment for a long time. So long that I truly thought we would part ways then. Until he sent me a text late one night: “Babe, my stomach hurts so much.” All my carefully constructed indifference crumbled in an instant. And so, the terrible cycle started all over again: I’d question him, he’d get angry, I’d apologize, he’d “forgive” me. I closed the ring box and tossed it into the trash. Deep in my drawer, there was still a letter of apology Adrian had written me when he was eighteen, because he’d forgotten to reply to one of my messages. He really cared about me back then. But now, he only cared about Sierra. I took out the apology letter, tore it into pieces, and threw it in the trash. After decades of memories were completely cleared out, the house felt much emptier. My heart felt empty along with it. The company group chat was still flooded with photos of Sierra celebrating Adrian’s birthday and making him laugh. Knowing Adrian’s blatant favoritism towards Sierra, colleagues eagerly chimed in with compliments. “Oh my god, Mr. Donovan and Sierra are so perfect together!” “You should find a girlfriend like Sierra, not a petty, moody one like Clara Miller.” “Clara Miller only gets by because of her family. Unlike our Sierra, who got to this position all on her own. There’s no comparison between the two.” Too disgusted to look anymore, I called my lawyer and instructed him to withdraw all my investments from Donovan Corp. 4. The next day, I went to the company to clear out my things. But in my private office, I saw Sierra, wearing a skimpy nightgown, with her feet propped up on my desk. Her things filled my office, and all of mine had been tossed outside the door. This was my private office, custom-built for me by Adrian. Everyone in the company knew it, and no one dared to step foot in this room. Sierra was openly trampling all over me, completely disrespecting my boundaries. Too fed up to argue with her, I called the police immediately. In the police station’s interview room, Sierra panicked. “I was just helping Adrian get some documents. Did you really have to call the police?” “That’s my private space. Did I give you permission to enter without asking?” “Taking something without permission? Isn’t that called theft?” Sierra didn’t retort after my words; she suddenly started crying. That’s when I sensed something was wrong. Sure enough, when I turned around, who else but Adrian, looking utterly furious, was standing right behind me. “Adrian!” The moment she saw Adrian, Sierra directly threw herself into his arms. “I really just wanted to help you get the documents, but Clara seems to dislike me. She insists I stole something. I have so many gifts from you, my huge mansion can barely fit them all. Why would I want her cheap, tacky things?” This small office was a “gift” from Adrian to me. It was his reciprocal gift for the small wooden cabin I built for him. We had so many sweet memories in this room. I always thought at least this sanctuary wouldn’t be defiled, that it was the last shred of dignity left for our love. But Adrian had to personally tear apart my last bit of illusion. Adrian comforted Sierra while explaining to the police officer, “This is all a misunderstanding. We all know each other. Sorry for the trouble.” Then he turned to me, his voice dripping with disgust. “Clara Miller, what have you become? You act like a lunatic all the time. Do you get some kind of sick satisfaction from using your power to hurt an innocent subordinate like Sierra? You’ve truly disappointed me.” His harsh words rained down on me, and before I could retort, Sierra started her act again. “Adrian, don’t blame Clara. It’s my fault for being so careless.” “At worst, I’ll spend a few days in jail. It’s fine if people laugh at me. Don’t let this cause trouble between you and Clara.” Adrian held Sierra’s hand, his face filled with concern. “Sierra, you’re just too kind-hearted, that’s why everyone takes advantage of you.” “Clara Miller, I’m telling you, this isn’t going to blow over easily. You need to apologize to Sierra right now.” “Adrian Donovan, she entered my private space without my permission. You’re telling me to apologize to her? Do you still think she’s the victim?” As soon as I spoke, Sierra started whimpering again, sniffling pathetically. Adrian scoffed. “Your private space? That office belongs to Donovan Corp. Don’t forget, the entire Donovan Corp. is under my name. You only ever had temporary permission to use that office. If you maintain this attitude, I won’t hesitate to have you arrested for making a false report.” With that, he pulled Sierra away to settle the matter. His words pierced my heart like a sharp spike. My heart, which I thought had long gone numb, began to ache faintly again. For so many years, I poured all my efforts into supporting Donovan Corp. I thought I was fighting for our shared future. It turned out, all I got in return was: “You only ever had temporary usage rights.” Before Adrian left the interview room with Sierra, he gave me a warning. “Just a friendly heads-up: the likes have already reached 990. If you keep this attitude, I really am going to marry Sierra.” I looked at Sierra’s contemptuous gaze behind him, and suddenly realized how pathetic I was. Sierra’s tricks were always clumsy; a smart man like Adrian couldn’t possibly have missed them. He simply chose to ignore them. The scales of his affection had long since tipped. All of this was just a pathetic way to get rid of a fool like me, and I was still foolishly trying to make up with him again and again. After figuring that out, the last bit of love I had for Adrian completely died. In the days leading up to my move to Veridia, annoying colleagues kept messaging me privately, giving me updates on the like count. “The likes are at 994! If you don’t humble yourself, your man’s going to be snatched away!” “Tsk, tsk, tsk, 997 likes already. Looks like you’re destined to be an old maid.” “Oh, you’re holding out for a long time this time, huh? Could it be you think you’re not as good as Sierra, so you wet your pants and ran away? Hahahaha.” I blocked and deleted all of them, ignoring them entirely. When the likes reached 999, and I still hadn’t caved, the tension around Adrian was so thick you could cut it with a knife. No one else in the company dared to press that final ‘like’ button. Just as Adrian was considering how to issue another warning, Suddenly, someone burst into Adrian’s office, shouting, “Mr. Donovan, the 1000th like has been reached!” 5. Hearing that, Adrian’s face instantly darkened. He demanded angrily, “Who pressed the 1000th like?” The person looked stunned and explained fearfully,

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He dumped me for “class difference,” moved his new girl into my apartment, and told everyone I wasn’t worth a $30,000 handbag. But he doesn’t know the lottery numbers he bragged about aren’t the winning draw, and the luxury brand he worships considers me one of their top clients. If he wants a war of status—fine. I’ll show him what real money looks like. 1 “Let’s break up, Keira Westbrook! I just won $20 million in the lottery.” Julian Collins stood in front of me, his expression smug as he spoke those words. “All because of that?” I asked, looking up at him. “Of course! You’ve probably never even seen that much money, have you? My mom says there are different classes of people. Now that we’ve made it to the top, you and I aren’t on the same level anymore.” I couldn’t help but laugh. $20 million, and they think they’re part of high society? I didn’t even have time to tell him that my dad owns several buildings that rake in more than $20 million in rent every year, not to mention his companies. But it’s fine. Honestly, I was glad to get rid of someone like him. Better to cut ties early. No tears over love, only sleepless nights thinking about money! Julian glanced at me. “By the way, even though you paid for the $50 lottery ticket, I’m the one who bought it. So don’t expect a penny from me.” He’d always had this habit of buying lottery tickets, dreaming of getting rich overnight. But when it came time to pay, he’d always have an excuse—his phone was dead, or his payment wasn’t working. Right, because the bank really cares about a few bucks, right? “My mom doesn’t like you either,” Julian added. “She thinks you’re too tacky. Remember last time you met her? All you gave her were some cheap, no-name gifts. You embarrassed us.” I shot back, “God must’ve spilled wisdom all over the world, but your family held up an umbrella!” I still remember the first time I met his mom. I gave her a pure wool scarf designed by an Italian luxury designer, worth five figures, and a bottle of French court perfume. Now it’s apparently a ‘cheap, no-name gift’ to them. Like a catfish splashing water, suddenly thinking it’s seafood. He continued, “I won’t argue with you because I’m an elite. But since we’re breaking up, let’s settle things. Why don’t you sell back the gifts I gave you?” Typical Julian. Even winning the lottery doesn’t change his stinginess. “No need! I still have all the stuff you gave me! I’ll return every bit of it.” “Your $9.99 skincare set? I was too scared to use it, in case it ruined my skin! “That $19.99 shirt and tie set? I didn’t want to wear it in case I broke out in hives! “And that $10 box of bread? I was worried it’d make me sick, and even the medical bills wouldn’t cover it!” The crowd around us burst into laughter. Julian’s face turned red as he snapped back, “Don’t just bring that up! What about all the money I gave you? Didn’t I send you cash on holidays?” “Sure did.” I nodded, pulling out my phone to check the records. Valentine’s Day: $5.20, Fourth of July: $6.60, Christmas: $8.80… “You’re so thoughtful. So generous!” I laughed. Even my cousin in elementary school gives me more than that. I used to think he was so sweet and attentive that I didn’t care about the little things. But now? Looking back, I must’ve had water on the brain. Enough to fill the entire Lake Michigan! Julian puffed out his chest. “That was the past! Things are different now. I’ve won $20 million! I can buy whatever I want, and you no longer deserve to be with me!” I nodded. “Alright then. In that case, why don’t you return the gifts I gave you?” Julian laughed. “The stuff you gave me? It’s all knockoffs, isn’t it? How much could it be worth?” Julian grew up poor. His dad passed away early, and he and his mom depended on each other. To protect his fragile ego, I always cut the tags off the gifts I gave him, and they didn’t have any flashy logos. “That belt you’re wearing? Gucci, limited edition. $10,000. “Those shoes? C-brand, $15,000. “That jacket? Also C-brand, $30,000.” I listed them off, one by one. Julian’s face fell. “You think I’m an idiot? You couldn’t afford the real thing. You must’ve just bought some knockoffs to fool me!” Right, because he couldn’t tell real from fake. I pulled out my phone. “Here’s the purJulian history and receipts. If you don’t believe me, go check with the store.” “And the scarf and perfume I gave your mom? They weren’t any cheaper than the stuff I gave you. But I’ll let that go. Just give me $100,000 for everything else I’ve gifted you.” In reality, I’d spent over $200,000 on him over the years. But if he gave me $200,000, his mom would probably make my life a nightmare. Julian gritted his teeth. “Who knows if what you gave me was real or fake? Let’s call it $50,000. I’ll give you $10,000 now and the rest once I cash in the lottery.” Fine by me. Even though it’s a drop in the bucket compared to my bank balance, who says no to more money? 2 After receiving the $10,000 in my account, I stood up and said to Julian, “Thanks, Julian. That’s the first time you’ve been so generous!” He looked pained but still spat back, “Good. Don’t ever come looking for me again, loser! “And don’t ever try to contact me. I’m afraid your bad luck will mess up my fortune.” I nodded vigorously, making sure he saw me agree. After Julian left, I told my driver to bring my Bentley around from the garage. I’m done pretending. That night, Julian posted on Instagram. There were two photos: one of the lottery ticket, and another of him taking a selfie at the Maserati dealership. The caption read: “Just focus on two things: working hard and loving yourself. Luck will follow you if you smile enough. ��” I almost gagged on my dinner. As I was about to delete him, something about that lottery ticket caught my eye. The numbers weren’t fully shown, but the draw number was clear: 38

But… the winning numbers for draw 381 didn’t match those! I quickly looked up the results online and realized Julian had mistaken the previous draw’s numbers as the winning ones for his ticket. He probably watched a replay or looked at the wrong draw number, thinking he’d won $20 million! This was about to get interesting. I couldn’t wait to see his face when he learned the truth. 3 Midway through work, I was sneaking a break when I overheard Brianna Moore, the office gold digger, bragging to a coworker. “My boyfriend just moved into Ridgewood Heights.” I froze. What a coincidence. My dad had bought me a place there too, though I rarely stayed. Since Julian worked nearby, I’d given him a key to use the place when he worked late. I told him it was rented. He moved in without a second thought, never considering the rent probably cost more than his monthly salary. I was just thinking about taking back the keys when Brianna said, “He calls me his lucky girl. Ever since we got together, he won $20 million!” Everyone around her gasped with envy. Wait. Ridgewood Heights? $20 million? Could it really be…? I hesitantly asked, “Does your boyfriend happen to be named Julian?” Brianna shot me a wary look. “You know him? Don’t even think about trying to steal him just because he’s rich. He’s way out of your league!” Of course, it was him! Julian had been seeing Brianna while we were still together? Did he really think Brianna was upper-class material? If my dad knew about this, he’d die laughing. Brianna always flaunted fake designer bags, rotating them every day of the week. In Julian’s eyes, someone who couldn’t even tell real from fake, Brianna must’ve looked like a wealthy princess. Talk about a match made in heaven! Two gold diggers, perfect for each other! Best wishes. Please stay together forever. That night, Brianna posted on Instagram, a photo of her and Julian with the caption: “No more waiting. The one I’ve been waiting for is here.” Five minutes later, Julian posted their picture too, with the cringy caption: “Us.” 4 The manager of my favorite luxury store texted me, saying they’d just gotten new stock and invited me to check it out. Since I had nothing better to do, I decided to swing by. As soon as I walked in, there they were: Julian and Brianna. There was only one sales associate in the store. She glanced at me and completely ignored me, continuing to smile and serve them. Brianna was wearing a logo-plastered outfit, even though it was so last season. Meanwhile, I was in a simple t-shirt and carrying a canvas bag. No wonder the saleswoman thought I wasn’t worth her time. Brianna noticed me too. “What kind of people are they letting in this store?” Julian added, “Keira Westbrook, what are you doing here? You can’t afford anything in this store.” I smiled. “Oh? Did your family open this store? I didn’t know I needed permission to look around.” The saleswoman clearly picked up on the tension and sided with them. “I’m sorry, miss, but the lowest-priced item in our store is $30,000. If you can’t afford it, you really shouldn’t waste your time.” I couldn’t help but laugh inside. She had no idea who she was backing. After showing Brianna several bags, I overheard her say to Julian, “Baby, I want this one, and the second one in that row too.” The sales associate beamed. “Oh, you have such good taste, miss! These are our bestsellers. You’ve got a great eye.” Brianna, pleased, slung the bag over her shoulder and admired herself in the mirror. Then she noticed me. “Keira Westbrook, aren’t you embarrassed carrying around that cheap canvas bag? Aren’t you supposed to have a job?” I was carrying a canvas bag because I planned to go grocery shopping later. Gotta think green, you know? Save the planet. I shot back, “What’s wrong with a canvas bag? Does your family live by the sea or something? Why are you so concerned?” Brianna, frustrated, rushed back to Julian. “This one, that one, and the other one—I want them all!” Julian, trying to sound generous, said, “Buy them all!” The saleswoman’s eyes sparkled with glee. I picked up a black handbag, wanting a closer look, when the saleswoman stormed over. “I’m sorry, miss, but this is our latest model. It costs $150,000 and is only available to our VVIP clients. Please don’t touch it—you might get it dirty.” Brianna laughed. “Keira, don’t get your filthy hands on that bag. You couldn’t afford it even if you sold yourself.” I was about to fire back when a sharp voice came from the entrance. 5 “Who said Keira can’t afford it?” The saleswoman panicked. “M-manager, you’re back!” Amanda, the store manager, walked in and immediately apologized to me.

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When I was rushed into the ER with a bleeding stomach, my husband was outside setting off fireworks for another woman. When reporters questioned their intimate display, I was still the one defending our so-called “perfect marriage.” It was not until the doctor told me I had three months left to live—and I returned home to find them nestled together under the glowing sky—that I finally understood: He had never seen me as his wife, only as a signature that could save his company. So before I died, I delivered the cleanest cut of all—teaching him what it truly means to lose me. I first sensed it was over when I landed in the hospital from overworking myself into a bleeding stomach. At that very moment, Bennett was at home, hosting a private fireworks show for Talia in the backyard. When reporters shoved their microphones in my face, I forced a smile through my pale, exhausted expression. “Don’t speculate,” I said. “Bennett and I are doing fine. The girl you saw with him is just his cousin.” The journalists looked unconvinced, their disdain and disbelief practically dripping off their faces. The truth was, I wasn’t entirely lying. Talia wasn’t his real cousin, though, just an orphan taken in by Bennett’s family. Our marriage had always been a calculated business arrangement. Bennett had played his role well until Talia came back three months ago. Since then, he’d stuck to her side like glue, completely forgetting he even had a wife. The “perfect husband” image that the media had painted for him was nothing but a façade. That night, while the entire household staff was preparing fireworks for Talia, I called Bennett over and over again. He didn’t answer. Left with no choice, I discharged myself from the hospital and took a cab home. The house was alive with celebration, the vibrant colors of fireworks painting the night sky. I stepped into the yard, cold and silent, entirely out of place amidst the revelry. Under the fireworks that illuminated the backyard, I saw Bennett tidying Talia’s hair and feeding her a piece of cake. Suddenly, I felt like an outsider. The autumn leaves covered the ground. As I stepped on them, they crackled softly. Talia noticed me first. She jumped out of Bennett’s arms like a frightened rabbit, her delicate expression painted with innocence. “Kyra!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling. “Please don’t misunderstand! We were just celebrating the company’s revival!” Huh. Revival? A celebration? Was she serious? The company did revive, yet she had no part in its recovery, none at all. As my disdainful gaze swept over them, Bennett charged toward me, shielding Talia like she was a priceless treasure. “Kyra, can you stop wearing that poker face all day?” he snapped, his voice sharp and full of irritation. “Enough with the innocent routine in front of the cameras. Haven’t you had enough? “What do you want? My sympathy? My pity? Dream on!” Behind him, Talia clung to his arm, her eyes glistening with crocodile tears. “Bennett, please calm down,” she whispered, trembling. “You’re scaring me.” The scene was absurd, a soap opera unfolding in my own home. But I was too exhausted to focus on this drama. To their surprise, I forced a smile, closing the distance between us. “Benny,” I said softly, my tone full of practiced sweetness, “don’t be mad. I didn’t misunderstand. I just wanted to remind you… today’s my birthday. I know you’ve been busy and must’ve forgotten, but it’s okay. I don’t blame you.” For a split second, he froze. A hint of guilt flickered across his face before being quickly buried beneath his usual indifference. “Birthday?” he repeated, scoffing. “Didn’t you always say you hated celebrating your birthday?” Yes. I used to say that. My mother had died giving birth to me. My birthday was also her death anniversary. My father, who worshipped her, would spend every year mourning her with grand ceremonies. For years, I avoided celebrating my birthday. But Bennett had once changed that. Over the first two years of our marriage, he’d celebrated with me, helping me shake off the shadow of grief. I could still remember his gentle words, whispered in my ear with a warm smile. “Kyra, from now on, you’ll never feel alone on your birthday. You’re not a curse. You’re my good luck charm.” Looking at him now, standing in front of me to shield Talia, I realized those words had long since lost their meaning. But it didn’t hurt anymore. He didn’t know I’d already tricked him into signing the divorce papers a week ago.

The stomach bleeding today wasn’t a fluke. A week ago, I had been diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer, with only three months left to live. That scene was still fresh in my memory. It was our third wedding anniversary, and I sat alone in the hospital hallway. Sweat soaked through the diagnosis report in my trembling hands. My legs felt like lead; I tried to stand several times but failed. My frayed nerves finally snapped after I called Bennett for the tenth time. “Kyra! Are you insane? Just because you have nothing better to do doesn’t mean others aren’t busy!” he roared. He wasn’t wrong. I was very sick, and it was indeed driving me insane. Before I could respond, a woman’s honeyed voice floated through the phone, turning my unsaid words into a lump in my throat. “Bennett! I knew you’d come! You missed me, didn’t you?” I heard Bennett’s low chuckle before the call was abruptly cut off. It wasn’t the first time. The first time he stood me up was to pick up Talia when she returned to the country. The first time he hit me was because Talia had damaged my piano. At first, I was shocked, but gradually, I stopped caring. The searing pain I once felt dulled into a faint ache. I made excuses for him over and over again, convincing myself it was all because Talia was his cousin, and he had no other choice. But eventually, I had to face the truth—he wasn’t powerless and chose this willingly. To Bennett, I was nothing more than a distraction when Talia wasn’t around, a pastime he could step on. My dignity and love were crushed beneath his feet. So, I decided he would taste the bitterness of unrequited love. I would make him fall for me and be haunted by me. If he refused to care about me now, I would make myself a thorn in his heart. While I was alive, I would be a constant, nagging pain. After my death, I would leave him utterly broken. I recorded three videos, preparing to leave Bennett a gift he would never forget.

In my last month alive, I set aside my pride. I tolerated Talia’s blatant provocations, pretending not to notice. But she wasn’t planning to let me off so easily. One evening, I discovered razor blades hidden in my piano keys. When Bennett came home, he saw me shouting at the teary-eyed Talia. “Did you really have to go this far?” he scolded, his voice sharp and cold. Silently, I raised my hand, showing him the blood dripping from my wrist. “Bennett! Don’t you know what she…” Before I could finish, Bennett’s gaze fell on Talia, trembling in the corner with fearful eyes. His face twisted in anger. The next thing I knew, a sharp slap landed across my cheek. “If your hand’s injured, go to the hospital. Stop making a scene here! You really are just a piece of trash with no one to teach you any better!” Every ounce of pride and ambition I had built up in my life crumbled in that moment. The man I had once leaned on now mocked me with disdain. “If you can’t play piano, then don’t. It’s just a tool you use to fish for attention, anyway.” My desperate, hysterical questioning only made me look like a lunatic in his eyes. He scoffed, “How dare you compare yourself to Talia? She plays piano because it’s her dream. You? You only do it for your pathetic vanity and self-interest.” Talia picked up a glass of water, pouring it over her head before smashing the glass onto the floor. With her drenched face and trembling lips, she looked pitiful as she turned to me. “Kyra, I didn’t mean to… Is this enough for you?” Bennett immediately rushed to her side, cradling her in his arms as he led her away to change clothes. Before leaving, he threw a cold glance my way. “Kyra, Talia is like a sister to me. Watch yourself.” His gaze lingered on my bleeding hand, softening for just a second. Talia seemed to notice this change. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she collapsed dramatically into Bennett’s arms. “Talia!” he shouted, his voice panicked. Without another word, he carried her away. That extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. Left alone, I hailed a cab and went to the hospital to get my wounds treated.

I sent all the pre-recorded videos to my brother, who knew about my diagnosis and was fully aware of my plan. Ours was a family devoid of warmth. Raised under my father’s influence, my brother had always resented me, blaming me for our mother’s death during childbirth. “Kyra, your cancer is karma. You should’ve paid with your life for my mom a long time ago.” That was his first response upon hearing the news. I promised him the company, and he promised to play my videos at my funeral. My phone screen blinked on and off, and the messages came in nonstop. They were from Bennett, his location pinging from abroad. [Kyra, don’t worry. I’ll make it back for the family dinner tomorrow.] [You’re not mad, are you?] [Kyra, you have to understand. Talia threatened suicide. I couldn’t just ignore her.] [She’s a living person! What kind of man would I be to let her die?] Each new message brought a numbing sensation to my lips and drained the strength from my limbs. As the screen filled with more notifications, I lost consciousness. When I collapsed to the ground, my final question lingered in my fading mind. Bennett, I just wondered how miserable your end would be. My soul detached from my body. I floated above, staring down at my pale face and lifeless body sprawled across the floor. Perhaps my unfulfilled rage moved the heavens, granting me this chance to witness their inevitable downfall. My phone, now running on its last bar of battery, showed over 99 unread messages. The final one from Bennett popped up: [Kyra, stop causing a scene. I might be late from the airport. Wait for me at Gabor Estate.] I let out a cold laugh and willed my consciousness to Gabor Estate, ready to watch the drama unfold. Soon, Bennett arrived in a rush, his tie crooked, his breaths uneven as he stormed into the estate. “Grandfather, where’s Kyra? I need to speak with her privately,” he asked. Anton’s furrowed brows deepened at his grandson’s frantic demeanor. “Benny! Must you always act so recklessly? And you’d better rein in Talia’s antics from now on. Our family isn’t yet free from relying on Kyra’s family’s support. “If it hadn’t been for Talia’s tantrums about studying piano abroad and your secret misuse of company funds, the company wouldn’t have ended up in such a dire situation. You can’t afford to push Kyra away. Watch your temper!” Bennett’s expression twisted, a mix of annoyance and frustration darkening his features. “Grandfather, is this really the time to bring that up? If Kyra hears about this, everything will be ruined!” A pang of bitterness coursed through me. So, the financial crisis I nearly died trying to save them from was Talia’s doing. Bennett’s past kindnesses were never about love; they were about greed, about using me to revive his failing company. “What?” Anton asked, confused by Bennett’s accusatory tone. Bennett froze for a moment, his composure cracking. “She… hasn’t arrived yet?” He sighed, pulling out his phone. He dialed my number over and over, but no one picked up. By the time he had called three times with no answer, panic began to creep into his expression. “Pick up, Kyra! Answer the phone!” He started pacing, frustration boiling over as he stomped his feet in agitation. Anton suggested they sit down, reminding him that the family dinner couldn’t be delayed since everyone was already present. Bennett reluctantly took his seat at the table, but no sooner had he settled than his phone rang. Excitement lit up his face, only to be replaced by confusion and unease as he listened to the voice on the other end. It was my brother, Vance. “Bennett, make sure to attend Kyra’s funeral tomorrow.” Free Point The sound of the call disconnecting echoed loudly. Bennett’s hand, still clutching the phone, froze mid-air as if time itself had stopped. Anton tapped his shoulder with his cane. “What’s the matter? Who was that?”

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I return to the exact day my life was destroyed, standing once again between a fiancée who defends her “best friend” and a man whose hidden illness once cost me everything. In my previous life, revealing Miles’s condition led to accusations, suspension, and a fire set by the two people I trusted most. This time, I confront every scheme with the certainty of someone who has already died once. I will take control of the narrative they used against me and prepare to reveal the truth they tried to bury. “What’s wrong with Miles? Tell me already!” Vivian’s voice snapped me back to reality. I looked at her impatient face, then glanced around, realizing I was in my office. So I really had traveled back in time. It seemed even the heavens didn’t want me to die so senselessly. “What the hell are you spacing out for? I’ve been asking you for ages,” Vivian said angrily, shoving me. I came to my senses and looked at Miles’s blood test results in my hand. Sure enough, just like in my previous life, he had AIDS. He was Vivian’s male best friend, and they were very close. In my previous life, on this day, he had suddenly been in a car accident and brought to the hospital. Vivian had been beside herself with worry. After learning he had AIDS, I agonized for a long time before deciding to tell Vivian. But she didn’t believe me at all and slapped me hard across the face. “I know you don’t want me hanging out with Miles,” she had said. “But you need to know when to draw the line. You’re a doctor – you can’t just accuse patients of having infectious diseases because of your personal feelings!” No matter how I tried to explain, she wouldn’t listen. Legally, I shouldn’t have disclosed a patient’s condition to her anyway. It was private medical information. But out of concern for her safety, I had selfishly told her. Little did I know that my loose lips would lead to my brutal death in my past life. So in this life, no matter what, I won’t make the same mistake again.

“It’s not too serious, just some minor injuries. He’ll be fine after a few days of treatment in the hospital,” I told her. Hearing this, Vivian let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good.” But the next second, she was irritated again: “Then why didn’t you say so earlier? I thought it was something major!” “Ethan, let me tell you – Miles is my best friend. Don’t you dare try anything sneaky.” I smiled at her. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” After she left, a colleague came in and patted me on the shoulder. “Hey Dr. Grant, didn’t you tell your girlfriend that Miles has AIDS?” he asked. “I saw her go feed him some soup just now.” “The law states that a patient’s condition is private. Doctors can’t disclose it to others without permission,” I replied formally. My colleague looked at me in surprise. “But that’s your girlfriend!” “She used to be. Not anymore,” I said.

I’ll never forget what Vivian did to me in my past life. After I told her Miles had AIDS, she thought I was deliberately lying to drive them apart. So she started giving me the cold shoulder and stopped coming home. Before long, rumors spread online that I had caused a patient’s death through malpractice. People were calling me an incompetent doctor. The hospital was terrified of the public backlash and suspended me under pressure. That’s when Vivian came to find me. “I’m the one who spread those rumors online. I hired people to smear you,” she admitted. “That’s what you get for lying about Miles having AIDS!” My heart shattered. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Vivian, you’re my girlfriend! You’ve ruined my entire career!” I cried in anguish. “So what?” She glared at me furiously. “Miles has been my best friend since childhood. I won’t let anyone say he’s sick. Not even you!” In that moment, my heart died completely. I broke up with her and left. I moved to another city by myself. But her mother kept contacting me, urging me to go back and marry Vivian. I refused. Soon after, Vivian called to yell at me: “You deliberately got my parents to scold me, didn’t you? You’re trying to keep me and Miles apart. Just you wait!” The next time I saw her was when my house suddenly caught fire. I saw her and Miles pouring gasoline outside. She even said: “You deserve to die for keeping me and Miles apart!” I’ll never forget the agony of being slowly burned alive. Vivian, in this life I won’t be your doormat anymore.

I contacted Vivian’s parents to break off the engagement, saying I no longer wanted to be with her. No matter how much her parents tried to persuade me, I insisted on ending things. They finally had to agree. That night, Vivian called me. “How dare you, Ethan! Just because I took care of Miles for one day, you want to break off our engagement?” she yelled. I calmly replied, “It’s not because you took care of him. I just think you really like him and you two are a good match. I don’t want to come between you. So I’m stepping aside to let you be together.” She spent all her time with Miles anyway. It would be hard for her not to get infected with AIDS. So I had to stay away from her. “Fine, have it your way. But don’t come begging me to take you back later!” she snapped. “I won’t. I wish you and Miles a lifetime of happiness together,” I said before hanging up. I had never stood up to Vivian like this before. She bombarded me with angry texts afterwards: “Who the hell said you could hang up on me?” “Ethan, where did you get the nerve?” A few minutes later: “You didn’t pay Miles’s medical bills?” She had brainwashed me into thinking she and Miles were just friends before. So I had always covered Miles’s hospital bills whenever he came for treatment. They both got used to it over time. Looking back now, I was such a fool. I didn’t reply to her and blocked her number. I had no patience left for someone like her. The next day, Vivian came barging into my office with a pale-faced Miles in tow. “Give me money,” she demanded. “Hurry up. Don’t make me slap you.”

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I only took two plastic bags from the Maynard family’s deli, yet Patricia Maynard stormed into my office and publicly accused me of stealing, forcing me to pay her. I’d supported their business for years and even asked my father to hold off on raising their rent, and this is how they repaid me. Fine. From today on, the Maynard family will face the consequences—starting with the lease for the storefront they rent from my family. 0 I’d stayed up too late the night before and overslept. I scrambled to get ready for work, throwing on whatever I could grab, and ran out the door. The Uber driver was already waiting, but my stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I rushed into Maynard’s Deli and told Russell to pack me a $30 sandwich to go. I was running late and couldn’t waste time. When he rang it up, the total came to $56.90. Fine. I didn’t argue. I paid, grabbed the bag, and was about to leave when I noticed the torn bag leaking sauce onto my hand. Russell was busy, so I didn’t want to bother him. I grabbed two extra plastic bags myself and left. Twenty minutes after getting to the office, I hadn’t even had time to eat before Mia Carter, my coworker, told me someone was there to see me. I thought maybe a client had arrived early. Adjusting my blazer, I stepped outside—and was face-to-face with none other than Patricia Maynard. “You ran off without paying!” she barked, her voice dripping with venom. “How can someone who works at such a big company be so shameless?” My mind raced. Did my payment not go through? I quickly pulled up my payment history on Venmo—everything looked fine. “Mrs. Maynard,” I said, keeping my tone polite, “I just checked, and I definitely paid. Maybe there was a delay on your end?” I showed her the transaction receipt on my phone. “See? I paid. This must be a misunderstanding.” “You paid for the food,” she sneered. “But don’t forget about the extra plastic bags you took! Five cents each, and you just walked off with them like I owe you something!” The misunderstanding wasn’t cleared up; if anything, she doubled down. “Walking around all polished and proper, working at a big company, but you still can’t resist taking advantage of us small folk.” “Doesn’t your company care about hiring people with integrity? Call your boss out here and let him see your true colors.” “You think because I’m an old lady, you can bully me? Taking things without paying just because I’m too polite to stop you? You’re disgusting!” By now, her shouting had drawn the attention of my entire office. 0

Patricia’s voice echoed across the office, loud enough for the whole floor to hear. People started gathering, curious about the commotion. Even Greg Mitchell, my team leader, rushed over. Seeing her rage, he tried to calm her down before even asking me for the full story. “Jules,” Greg said, turning to me, “just give her the money, and let’s move on. She’s an elderly lady—it’s not easy for her to come all the way here. Let’s not cause a scene or hurt the company’s image.” I bit back my anger, knowing he had a point. This was about a dollar. Not worth escalating. Besides, I had a major client meeting in thirty minutes and couldn’t waste energy arguing with her. “Fine,” I said coldly. Turning to Patricia, I spoke deliberately. “Mrs. Maynard, I was in a hurry this morning, and I didn’t realize you’d charged me for 56.90 instead of the 30 sandwich I asked for. That was already more than I intended. And I didn’t know the extra bags cost money. That’s on me. My apologies. Give me your payment code, and I’ll pay you right now.” The murmurs around the office showed my colleagues understood the situation now. Many of them shot me sympathetic glances. Patricia, however, glared at me like I was the devil incarnate. “Well, at least you’ve got some decency,” she spat. “But next time, if you don’t pay for the bags, don’t bother coming to Maynard’s. We don’t serve people with no class.” I nearly exploded but forced myself to hold back. I opened Venmo, sent her $1, and stepped back. The app chimed, “Payment received: $1.” I thought that would end things, but Patricia wasn’t done. She pointed a finger at me, her nose in the air. “One dollar? That’s it? Who knows how many bags you’ve swiped before today? I’m asking for $50, at least. You’re rich, right? Don’t act like you can’t afford it.” Seething, I asked through gritted teeth, “How much do you want?” “$50,” she snapped, her tone dripping with entitlement. Knowing I couldn’t waste more time, I transferred the $50 to make her leave. She smirked as the transaction went through. “You’ve got the money, so why not give it to me? Better me than someone else, right?” With that, she left, grinning ear to ear. As I watched her walk away, I clenched my fists. Fifty dollars for two plastic bags? Seriously? I’d let this slide for months—letting her overcharge me for leftovers, thinking it was charity. Dad even wanted to raise their rent, but I told him to hold off. “They’re struggling,” I’d said. “The food’s good. Don’t push them too hard.” And this is how they repay me? Sometimes, being nice just makes you a target. Some people think kindness is weakness. Some horses, when gentle, are ridden rough. Watching Patricia Maynard’s retreating back, I raised an eyebrow. She had no idea who she’d just picked a fight with. 0

As soon as Patricia left, the tension in the office evaporated. My coworkers gathered around to console me. “Jules,” Mia Carter said, “with people like her, you just have to swallow your pride. If you don’t pay, they’ll never stop causing trouble. Don’t let it get to you.” “Seriously,” another coworker said indignantly. “What a vulture. I can’t believe people like her exist.” “Right? That Maynard’s Deli? I used to love their pastrami. Never going back again!” Then, Colin Spencer, who always seemed to delight in needling me, chimed in with his usual smug tone. “Well, Jules, technically you didn’t pay for the bags at first. She’s got a point, doesn’t she? Is it really okay to badmouth an elderly woman like this?” “Why don’t you say it to her face if you’re so righteous?” he added with a challenge in his voice. I turned to him, my gaze sharp as a blade. “Colin, did you just crawl out of a cave or something?” “What? No, why would you—” “Because you sure act like you’re covered in ancient murals. You’ve got so many cracks, you’re practically falling apart.” His face turned green, then white, then red, but he didn’t have a comeback. He just shut his mouth and sulked. People like him? You have to shut them down without mercy. That night, I told my dad about what had happened. He didn’t play the “I told you so” card. Instead, his voice was full of warmth and fury on my behalf. “Jules, don’t worry about it. We’ll stop buying from them. People like that? They’re destined to fail.” “And the storefront?” I asked, already knowing the answer. “Oh, I’ll let it sit empty before I rent it to them again. No one gets to mess with my little girl.” “When’s the lease up?” “About a month.” “Then don’t give them a heads-up. Just kick them out when the time comes,” I said, my tone icy. “Consider it done,” Dad said firmly. Dad wasn’t around much, always busy with work, and Mom, a college professor, spent most of her time on campus. It was just me at home, so their support, even from a distance, meant the world. But truth be told, I wasn’t losing sleep over this. A dog bite doesn’t become your fault just because it hurt. After work, I stopped by the bakery and bought a selection of fancy pastries. On a whim, I also picked up a large box of freshly cut durian—an indulgence I’d been craving. The Maynard family had three kids. Their eldest daughter was off at college, the middle child, Lily, was 13 and in middle school, and the youngest, Noah, was still in elementary. As I walked past Maynard’s Deli, Lily and Noah came bounding over, their faces lighting up at the sight of my bags. Lily trailed behind me like a shadow, her eyes practically glued to the box. “Miss Jules, what did you buy? It looks so yummy!” I saw right through her act. “Just some cake and durian,” I said bluntly. “Why? Got something to say? If not, I’m heading home.” The word “durian” made Noah’s eyes sparkle with excitement. Without hesitation, he reached for my bag. “Miss Jules, how did you know I wanted durian today? Open it up and let me have some!” I lifted the bag out of his reach, my expression unamused. “If you want it so bad, go buy it yourself. Don’t have money? Ask your dad.” Noah scrunched up his face, clearly displeased. “My dad doesn’t have your kind of money. He’d never buy us something so expensive.” Lily quickly chimed in, “Yeah, yeah! If it weren’t for you, we’d never get to taste anything nice like that!” How had I missed it before? These two were just as shameless as their grandmother. A house full of the same brand of entitlement. Out of pity, I used to share with them every time they played the sweet sibling act, calling me “Miss Jules” like I was their favorite neighbor. But today? Not a chance. 0

When I didn’t hand over the goods right away, Noah tried to grab my sleeve. “Give it to me now! I’m telling you to!” “Back off,” I snapped, shaking him off. “I’m not your mom. Why should I give you anything?” Noah’s face darkened. “I know you love the pastrami from our shop. Keep this up, and I’ll make sure Dad stops selling to you!” Lily dropped her sweet-girl act and planted her hands on her hips. “You always shared with us before. Why not today?” Excuse me? Somehow, they’d managed to take shamelessness to a whole new level. Before I could respond, Patricia waddled over, looking every bit as bold as when she stormed into my office. There wasn’t a hint of shame on her face—just the smug air of someone who thought they had the upper hand. “Let’s just put the plastic bag thing behind us, shall we? I won’t hold it against you. No need to sour things between us.” Her tone shifted to one of mock generosity, but it was dripping with condescension. “Kids will be kids. Just let them have a little taste. You’re doing well for yourself, so what’s the harm?” “And you know,” she added, her voice laced with fake sweetness, “my grandson only asks because he likes you. Don’t let him down.” Her audacity nearly made me laugh. I stared her down, my voice ice-cold. “What do you want? A verbal slap? Fine, I’ll deliver.” “Lack of education can be fixed. Bad looks? There’s always surgery. But a rotten heart? That’s incurable. You extorted $50 from me for a plastic bag and have the gall to stand here pretending to play nice? Do you even realize how much face you’re losing?” My sarcasm cut sharper than a knife, leaving no room for politeness. “Is that a tumor on your neck, or did your mom mix up which part of you to toss out at birth and keep the placenta instead?” “If you’re bored, go lick a toilet bowl. Stop buzzing around here like a fly.” Patricia Maynard’s face turned ashen, humiliated in front of her grandkids. She couldn’t stomach the insult, yet all she could do was sputter with rage. “You little tramp! You’ve got no upbringing, no decency! Didn’t your parents teach you manners?” Her anger erupted like a volcano, words flying out uncontrollably. But she didn’t dare lay a finger on me. Instead, she yanked Noah by the ear and dragged him home. “You’re such a disgrace! Do I not feed you? Do I not clothe you? Why are you out here begging people for food?” Noah didn’t back down. “I didn’t take her food! I just wanted it! What’s it to you, you old hag?” “You’re not even my mom! Why do you get to boss me around?” “Oh, just wait till I deal with you, you little brat!” The sound of a child’s wailing soon echoed down the street, blending with her shrieks. 0 Back home, I cranked up the AC, flopped onto the couch, and queued up my favorite TV show. I happily dug into my pastries and durian, savoring every bite. Mid-episode, my tablet suddenly started buffering.

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After we lost our baby, my husband Jake and I were drowning in a mountain of debt. I was also battling severe depression. But Jake, he was always there for me, always protective. He’d spend his days doing food deliveries and his nights driving for a ride-share, just scrambling to pay off what we owed. No matter how exhausted he was, the first thing he’d do when he got home was pull me into a tight hug. A year later, I thought I was finally recovering. But that day, when I saw a little kid playing by the roadside, I just couldn’t stop myself from crying. Jake, his eyes bloodshot from exhaustion, suddenly snapped. “Enough! You’re not the only one who lost a child! Don’t you think I’m hurting too? Who the hell is going to care about *me*?” He spun around and stormed out into the rain, leaving me alone in the house. My gaze drifted to the utility knife on the windowsill. A chilling thought crept into my mind. Maybe…maybe I should just go be with our baby. The rain hammered against the windows, a relentless drumming, like someone desperately pounding on the glass. Jake was gone. The door slammed shut with a sharp *bang*. I stood frozen, the door still trembling slightly, and with it, my heart. “Who the hell is going to care about *me*?” His words echoed, twisting and tearing at my brain. He was right, who *did* care about him? To pay for my treatments, to cover the mounting bills from the baby we couldn’t keep, he worked himself to the bone, even running deliveries with a high fever. I was nothing but a burden. No baby, no job, and now I couldn’t even offer him comfort. All I did was make his life harder. I turned my head, my eyes drawn to the windowsill. There it was, the utility knife Jake used for opening packages. The blade gleamed, an icy invitation. Death felt good. Once that thought surfaced, there was no suppressing it. If I died, Jake wouldn’t have to pretend to be strong anymore. He wouldn’t have to scrounge for leftover food to save money, wouldn’t have to plaster on a fake smile in the pouring rain, just for a few extra bucks on a delivery. And finally, I could go be with the baby who never got to call me “Mom.” I walked over and picked up the knife. It was light, yet heavy as a thousand pounds. Entering the bathroom, I locked the door behind me. After a moment’s thought, I grabbed a towel and stuffed it under the door crack. I didn’t want the smell of blood to escape. Jake hated the smell of blood. He’d always steer clear whenever he even saw a raw cut. I turned on the water and sank into the tub. The icy cold seeped into my skin, but I felt nothing. No chill at all. I took out my phone and opened SnapChat. At the very top, pinned to the top of my chats, was “Jake.” The last message was from him, sent that afternoon: “What do you want for dinner tonight? I can pick it up on my way.” Even then, he was still trying to cheer me up. I typed out a message: “I’m going to a friend’s place to clear my head. Don’t look for me.” My finger hovered over the send button for a long time. Finally, I scheduled the message to send. 8:30 PM. By then, he should be home. He’d see the message, probably be a little annoyed, but also relieved. Without having to face me, he’d finally get a good night’s sleep. My phone lay on the sink, its screen glowing, illuminating my pale face. I raised the knife, pressed it against my wrist, and slashed downwards. Once. Twice. My skin peeled back, and bright red blood spurted out like a fountain. It bloomed in the water, swirling like grotesque red flowers, shockingly vibrant. I closed my eyes, leaning against the tub. The warmth was slowly draining from my body. My consciousness began to fade, and I seemed to see our baby smiling at me from the clouds, extending chubby little hands for a hug. “My baby, Mommy’s coming,” I whispered. Tears spilled into the bloody water. Mommy won’t let you be alone over there anymore. Just before darkness completely swallowed me, I heard the rain outside stop. Good. The rain had stopped. And I stopped loving you. Jake. When I opened my eyes again, I was floating near the ceiling. My body felt impossibly light. I looked down and saw myself in the bathtub. My face was ashen, lips purple, the wound on my wrist gaping. The tub was filled with dark red water, still and silent. I was dead. The sensation was oddly peaceful. From outside the door, I heard the jingle of keys. *Click.* The door opened. Jake was back. He was soaked to the bone, hair plastered to his scalp, water dripping down his cheeks. In his hand, he carried a plastic bag – takeout from that corner diner, my favorite. He stood at the doorway, cautiously glancing into the dark apartment. No lights were on. He tiptoed in, changing his shoes, terrified of making a sound that might disturb me. “Maya?” 2. He called out, tentative. No answer. He sighed, probably assuming I was asleep, or still in a mood, hiding in the bedroom. He placed the takeout on the table, shrugged off his soaked jacket, and rubbed his face. His face was a canvas of exhaustion, his eyes bloodshot. He walked to the bedroom door, pushed it open a crack, and peeked inside. No one was on the bed. He froze for a moment, then turned towards the bathroom. The bathroom door was closed, and the light was off. He approached, trying the doorknob. Locked. “Are you in there?” he asked, pressing his ear to the door. His voice was hoarse, tinged with a desperate attempt to be conciliatory. “Still mad?” I hovered in front of him, my heart aching as I watched his humble posture. When Jake heard no response, he figured I was either showering or deliberately ignoring him. He sighed, then slid down the door, sitting on the cold floor. His pants were still wet. He just sat there, leaning against the bathroom door. Only that thin sheet of wood separated us. Inside was my lifeless body. Outside, his weary back. The boundary between life and death felt so incredibly thin. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his head bowed, his fingers tracing the grout lines between the tiles. “I was just so tired… really. Today, someone complained about a delivery, and I lost fifty bucks.” “I was so frustrated, and then I came home and saw you crying, and I just… I lost it.” “Please, just talk to me, okay? Yell at me, hit me, whatever.” He pulled a small, squashed box from his pocket. Inside were a few strawberries. They were a little bruised, but still vibrantly red. “Look, I bought you strawberries. Not many, but they’re sweet. The owner said it was the last box.” “Can you just open the door? Come out and have one?” A deathly silence hung in the bathroom. Only the occasional drip of the faucet broke it, *drip, drip*. Jake let out a bitter laugh. “Fine, you don’t have to come out. Just listen to me talk, then.” “We only have two hundred thousand left on the debt.” “Just give me one more year, no, half a year. If I push hard for another six months, we can finally breathe a little.” “Then I’ll take you traveling, anywhere you want to go.” “And we can have another baby, okay?” When he mentioned the baby, his voice choked. He buried his head in his knees, his shoulders trembling slightly. “I miss our baby too… I hurt too…” “But I’m a man, I have to be strong. If I break down, what will happen to you?” I watched him cry, wanting to reach out and stroke his hair. My hand passed right through him, touching nothing. You fool. You’d be better off without me. So much lighter. Jake babbled on for a long time. He talked about the past, about the future, about the child who never got to grow up. Slowly, his voice faded. He was so tired. He was truly exhausted. He just sat there, leaning against the door, knees pulled to his chest, and fell asleep. His breathing was heavy, his brow furrowed in a deep frown. His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was 8:30 PM. My scheduled SnapChat message had just gone through. But he was sleeping too deeply to hear it. Dawn broke. Sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, falling directly on Jake’s face. He frowned, then jolted awake. His first instinct was to check the time, then he scrambled to his feet in a panic. “Damn it, I’m going to be late!” He frantically grabbed his jacket, about to rush out the door, when he suddenly remembered something. He glanced back at the bathroom door. Still closed. He tried the bedroom door again; the covers were neatly folded, untouched. “Maya?” 3. He called out, puzzled. Pulling out his phone, he finally saw the message from 9 PM last night. “I’m going to a friend’s place to clear my head. Don’t look for me.” Jake froze. He stared at the screen for several seconds, his taut shoulders suddenly slumping. Then, a bitter laugh escaped him. “Maybe it’s for the best if she’s gone,” he muttered to himself. “It’ll keep her from getting annoyed seeing me, and I can focus on work.” He completely believed it. Because in the past, when we argued, I’d sometimes crash at my best friend’s place. He never suspected that I was just behind that door. He walked over to the table and saw the dinner from last night. It was completely cold, the oil congealed into white chunks, looking sickening. But he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. He sat down and gulped down the cold noodles. When he choked, he washed it down with cold water. He ate quickly. After finishing, he carefully put the crushed box of strawberries into the fridge. He even stuck a Post-it note on the fridge door: “Maya, strawberries are in the fridge. Remember to eat them when you get back. Don’t be mad anymore, love you.” After all that, he put on his helmet and hurried out the door. The apartment was empty again, save for me. I looked at that Post-it note, my heart a tangle of emotions. Those strawberries, I’d never get to eat them in this lifetime. Around noon, the doorbell rang. No one answered. The person outside started pounding on the door. “Maya! Open up! I know you’re in there!” It was Jake’s mom, Mrs. Davies. She had a spare key. When no one answered, she just let herself in. As soon as she entered, she stood with her hands on her hips, looking around. “Still sleeping in? Just dragging Jake down, aren’t you!” She stormed into the bedroom—empty. Then to the kitchen—empty. Finally, she stopped at the bathroom door. She pushed it, but it wouldn’t open. “Still locking the door? What are you doing in there, hatching an egg?” Mrs. Davies grumbled and cursed at the door. “Tell me, you couldn’t even keep a baby, and now you just walk around with a dead face all day? Who are you trying to impress?” “Jake’s buried in debt, and here you are, not even making him a meal!” “My son is a fool, any other man would’ve divorced you by now!” Her words were harsh, spittle flying from her mouth. I floated in the air, watching her coldly. In the past, hearing such things would make me cry, make me feel wronged, make me feel like a sinner. Now, I just found it pathetic. Mrs. Davies eventually tired herself out. Seeing no movement from inside, she assumed I was deliberately refusing to open the door to spite her. “Fine, be stubborn! Just stay hidden in there forever then!” She huffed and left. Before she went, she even snagged that box of strawberries from the fridge. The ones Jake had saved for me. I wanted to stop her, but I couldn’t. In the afternoon, Jake sent several SnapChat messages. “Maya, are you having fun at your friend’s place?” “What do you want for dinner tonight? I can pick you up?” “Lots of orders today, made good money. Tonight I’ll buy you that cake you’ve wanted for ages.” My phone was still on the bathroom sink. The screen lit up and dimmed, over and over. In the dimly lit bathroom, there was no one to answer. Jake probably thought I was still angry, so he didn’t dare call, afraid of annoying me. He sent a “pouting face” emoji. Then he continued to weave through the city, pushing himself for those few dollars per delivery. Night fell. The rain started again, a soft drizzle. Familiar footsteps echoed in the hallway. Quick, light. Jake was back. He was home earlier than usual today, carrying a fancy cake box and a bouquet of sunflowers. The sunflowers were on sale, their petals a bit wilted, but he’d carefully arranged them to look lively.

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