Category: English

My ex-husband, Tom, and his rich buddies recently started a twisted game. “The Bankruptcy Challenge.” The rules? Fake going broke for a month. The goal? To test the loyalty of their girlfriends. To make it look legit, their friends and family were all in on it. They even installed a “new owner” at their companies. Tom, wearing a $5 t-shirt and a construction hat, confidently went to find the woman he loved most. Instead of sympathy, his precious Chloe screamed at him and had security throw him out like trash. Stunned, he sat on the curb for a long time before his trembling fingers dialed another number. “Sarah… I’m broke. I’m homeless.” A soft, childish voice answered from the other end. “Daddy, don’t be scared. You can sleep in my room.” 1 When Tom called, I was in the kitchen frosting a cake. My four-year-old daughter, Lily, was playing Roblox on my phone and picked up immediately. I don’t know what he said, but suddenly Lily’s face lit up. She ran into the kitchen, losing a slipper on the way. “Mommy! Good news! Daddy went bankrupt! He can come to my birthday party this year!” Bankrupt? I looked at the phone. The contact name was still “Ex-Husband.” The last time Tom called was Christmas. He only contacted me on holidays. Usually to drag me to his parents’ mansion to play the “happy couple” and keep the old folks calm. But the second we walked out the door, he’d drop my hand like it was toxic and speed off to comfort Chloe. I’d watch him drive away, the backseat piled high with designer gifts, the passenger seat filled with red roses. I’d stand there in the cold wind, clutching the $2,000 “performance fee” he threw at me. I wasn’t sad. Why would I be? That was six months of rent for me and Lily. Hearing he was broke, my only thought was: Why isn’t he calling his precious Chloe? Why call me? We hated each other. Tom’s voice was cautious. “Sarah, I have nowhere to go. I haven’t eaten all day. Can I crash at your place?” I opened my mouth to say “No.” But Lily tugged on my skirt. Her big, grape-like eyes were wide, filled with hope and pleading. “Mommy, please? Let Daddy spend my birthday with me just this once? All the other kids have their dads…” I looked down, and my heart broke a little. I knew Lily craved a father’s love. Tom actually liked Lily. He used to take her to Disney World, buy her princess dresses, and get her those expensive blind box sets. But one day, Lily came home slumped over, saying she would never “bother” Daddy again. I dropped my spatula and stormed over to his villa. With the arm strength of a woman who washed a thousand dishes a day, I slapped Chloe silly. I shoved her face into the toilet to rinse out that filthy mouth of hers. After that, Tom never asked to see Lily again. 2 But today was Lily’s birthday. She just wanted her parents together. I sighed. “Tom, Lily misses you. You can come over for dinner.” On the other end, he exhaled. It was the sound of a man who just realized he wasn’t completely alone in the world. “You guys still live at The Grandview, right? I’m on my way.” I blinked. “What? Where is that? I’ve never been there.” I rented an apartment in the Garden District. It was close to Lily’s preschool. Downstairs was a street full of food trucks. At night, we could hear drunk karaoke from the bar across the street, and the roach-spray truck drove by on schedule. It was a far cry from the luxury high-rise Tom mentioned. Tom went silent for a moment, then asked for my current address. Even wearing clothes from a discount bin, Tom still looked like money. The moment he walked in, Lily tackled his legs. Tom patted her head affectionately, but as he scanned our small two-bedroom apartment, his eyes went cold. “You let my daughter live in a place like this?” I paused mid-tea pour. The apartment was clean, decorated in a warm, minimalist style. Everything from the appliances to the cartoon rug was hand-picked by Lily and paid for by me. No matter how hard things got, I never let Lily feel poor. But Tom walked in and immediately started judging. Right. He and Chloe lived in a 5,000-square-foot mansion. Of course this felt like a shoebox. I tossed the tea bag in the trash and pulled Lily over. “Lily, go check your room. Mommy hid a birthday present in there.” She squealed and ran off. My smile vanished. I glared at Tom. “A place like this? Who was begging to come here five minutes ago? You’re homeless now. What right do you have to judge?” Tom quickly dropped the attitude. Right. He was supposed to be a broke guy now. Not a CEO. He sat on the sofa, looking awkward. “You misunderstood. I meant… why aren’t you living in the house I gave you?” I frowned. “What house?” When we divorced, I left with one suitcase and a three-month-old Lily. The only money I had came from selling the jewelry his parents gave me. Tom’s brow furrowed. “Sarah, you gave me a child. Even if I don’t love you, I wouldn’t let my own flesh and blood starve.” “I told my assistant, Ben, to buy you a condo and give you a huge settlement check. Did you not take it?” 3 A condo? A settlement? This was news to me. But I quickly figured it out. “I didn’t get a dime. Are you trying to scam me now that you’re broke?” Tom leaned forward, regret swirling in his eyes. “Sarah, I would beg on the streets before I scammed you. In this world, the person I wronged the most is you.” Our history reads like a bad soap opera. My father saved Tom’s father’s life but died doing it. Tom’s family adopted me when I was eight. His dad treated me like a daughter. His mom loved my quiet nature. Tom, two years older, was the big brother who protected me. He fought off bullies. He took me to the zoo. He did everything to help me get over my grief. And I buried my crush on him in my diary. Sarah loves Tom. Does Tom love Sarah? Senior year of college, I got my answer. Tom proposed. I was overjoyed. I thought he loved me back. We got married at the courthouse for $35. I didn’t know Tom’s dad had given me 10% of the company shares as a dowry but forced Tom to start from the bottom in the mailroom. Tom didn’t marry me. He married a shortcut to the good life. After the wedding, I lived in a fantasy. I cooked for him, ironed his shirts, picked him up drunk from parties. But while I was pregnant, he cheated on me with an intern. Chloe. She was six months older than me. He said Chloe understood him. She was his soulmate. They were “true love.” He said his feelings for me were just… sibling affection. Tom’s dad saw right through Chloe. He called her a gold-digger and banned her from the family. So Tom came up with a compromise. He wouldn’t divorce me—he needed me to pacify his parents. But he would give Chloe everything a wife gets, except the marriage certificate. That day, ten days after Lily was born, I snapped. The docile Sarah who let Tom walk all over her grabbed a fruit knife and stabbed herself in the stomach. Marrying Tom was my mistake. I was young, stupid, and love-blind. 4 He cheated. He treated me like a maid. I deserved that for being dumb. But I would die before I let him ruin my daughter. Blood everywhere. Tom froze. He was panicked, terrified, guilty. He pressed his hands on my wound, shaking. “Sarah, don’t die.” I was stubborn. If he didn’t agree to a divorce and give me full custody, I would kill myself. If they saved me, I’d do it again. Until I was dead. If I died, his father would destroy Chloe. To save his mistress, Tom signed the papers. The day I left, he had a condition. We had to hide the divorce. I had to pretend to be his wife in front of his parents on holidays. I said fine. But I charged him. $2,000 a pop. Tom, the man who “wouldn’t touch me if I was the last woman on earth,” had to pay me to show up. He lost his temper. “Do you have no feelings for me at all? Do you love money that much? Fine. I won’t give you a cent of the settlement. I’ll wait until you’re starving and come crawling back to beg me.” He kept his word. The “economic compensation” in the divorce agreement? Never saw a penny. I was broke, yes. But I stood on my own two feet. I never begged him once. Remembering this, Tom rubbed his temples. “That was just angry talk. You were a single mom. How could I really leave you with nothing?” “Your ‘angry talk’ was my reality for four years.” Tom choked. He looked around the apartment again. It wasn’t cheap, but it wasn’t rich. Chloe wore socks that cost $500. I was wearing a t-shirt I bought four years ago. Tom pulled out his phone and called his assistant, Ben. “Mr. Tom… uh, sir? Is there something you need?” Ben wasn’t used to the new boss yet. Tom’s voice dropped, carrying his old authority. “Four years ago, the condo at The Grandview and the $10 million settlement check. Did you give them to my ex-wife personally?” $10 million? That would have set me and Lily up for life. Ben hesitated. “Uh… well, Miss Chloe said she would handle it…” Her again. Rage boiled in my chest. Chloe already had everything. If she stole Lily’s future too, I was going to destroy her. At 7 PM, I brought out a Shaun the Sheep cake.

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On Christmas Eve, my three-year-old son, battling cancer, took a turn for the worse. His only wish was for “Santa Daddy” to bring him a gift. I called my husband, frantic. But he just yelled at me in annoyance. “Why are you calling me all the time? I’m just helping Emily find Bubble! Why do you have to make a scene?” “If Bubble is gone, Emily will be devastated!” Bubble? His high school sweetheart Emily’s dog? I swallowed my rage and told him our son, Winter, might not make it through the night. He just laughed. “Stop being dramatic, Claire. I know you. Winter is just acting out because you taught him to.” “If he hadn’t kicked Bubble, the dog wouldn’t have run away! Tell Winter he needs to apologize to Emily tomorrow!” I hung up and spent my son’s last Christmas by his side, tears streaming down my face. The next day, my husband’s social media was full of posts about a lost dog. Mine was an obituary for my son. Ten years of marriage, gone like melting snow. It was Christmas Eve. The doctor called me, his voice urgent. “Mrs. Miller! Winter’s condition has deteriorated. We’re rushing him to the ICU! Mr. Miller isn’t picking up. You need to get here now!” I dropped everything and ran to the hospital. Usually, I’m the one by his side, but tonight I just stepped out to make Winter some soup… Tonight was supposed to be Liam’s shift. He promised! Where the hell was he?! I called Liam over and over as I drove, but it went straight to voicemail. Shaking with rage, I texted him: Liam! You promised! Winter is in the ICU! When I got to the hospital, I sprinted toward the emergency room. The doctor intercepted me, his face grim. “Mrs. Miller… you need to prepare yourself.” I pushed him away, shaking my head violently. “No! That’s impossible! He was fine yesterday!” The doctor held my shoulders firm. “Mrs. Miller… Winter’s condition was always unstable. The monitors help, but having a parent there to catch the early signs is crucial. Tonight, no one was with him… We were too late. I’m so sorry.” I collapsed to the floor, clutching my phone until my knuckles turned white. My heart felt like it was being crushed. “Liam!” I don’t know how much time passed before the lights in the ICU turned off. The surgeon walked out. “Family of Winter Miller… you should go spend this Christmas Eve with him.” Christmas Eve… How did it end up like this? Back in the hospice room, Winter opened his eyes weakly. He looked around. “Mommy… Daddy promised he would dress up as Santa and bring me presents… right?” I held his hand tight, choking back a sob. “Yes, baby. Santa Daddy is coming…” I looked down at my phone. Still nothing from Liam. Until I opened Instagram. Emily had a new post: Bubble is missing. I feel like I can’t breathe… Bubble, where are you? The photo showed a festive, snowy street. And there was Liam, looking anxious, searching for the dog. Bubble. Emily’s dog. The irony was suffocating. Our son was dying, and he was out looking for his ex’s dog. I typed a furious comment: If Winter dies, I will never forgive you two! Winter squeezed my hand. “Mommy, why are you crying?” I looked up, realizing my face was wet. Guilt, grief, hatred for Liam—it was all mixing together. But I had to smile. For Winter. I turned off my screen and wiped my face. “Mommy is just so happy. It’s Christmas Eve. We’re all safe and sound.” Less than a minute later, Liam called. For Winter’s sake, I answered. Liam sounded angrier than I was. “Claire! Watch your mouth on social media!” I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. I turned away from the bed and whispered, “Liam, Winter is dying.” Silence on the other end. Then, a scoff. “What is your problem? One second you’re raging on Emily’s post, the next you’re using Winter for sympathy?” My blood ran cold. The pain and anger were a physical weight in my chest. I looked at Winter, terrified to raise my voice. “Liam, I’m begging you…” The tears wouldn’t stop. I asked a nurse to watch Winter and ran into the hallway. “Get to the hospital! You promised Winter you’d be Santa!” I screamed into the phone. “I’m busy!” he shot back instantly. “I’m helping Emily find Bubble. She’s upset.” Then he added, “Christmas is tomorrow. You just want me there because you’re jealous.” I closed my eyes. Ten years. I finally realized that to him, Winter and I were worth less than a dog. I took a breath. “Liam, you were supposed to be with him tonight. If you hadn’t left, Winter might not…” “Enough,” he interrupted, impatient. “I checked on him. He was fine.” “Besides, Emily was nice enough to visit him, and he kicked Bubble…” “What?!” I roared. “Winter is terrified of dogs! You let her bring a dog into his room?! Are you insane?!” Silence. He must have forgotten Winter was allergic to dander. Maybe the sudden decline was triggered by that. In the background, I heard Emily’s voice, soft and cloying. “Liam, maybe Claire really needs you. I’ll… I’ll find Bubble myself. It was the first gift you gave me… even if we aren’t together, seeing him reminds me of you…” “You run a company, you’re tired. I don’t want to add to your stress. If Claire won’t give you space, you should go.” Liam comforted her. “Ignore her. She always uses the kid to manipulate me.” I laughed, a broken sound. He wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore. “Liam! You killed Winter. You’re going to regret this!” I yelled. I hung up. My chest ached as I walked back to the room. I couldn’t let Winter leave this world disappointed. I searched the floor until I found a doctor about Liam’s height. I begged him to help. An hour later, dressed in a rented Santa suit and holding Winter’s favorite model kit, the doctor walked into the room. Winter cried tears of joy. “I knew Daddy wouldn’t leave me…” I covered my mouth and hugged him tight. The nurse took a picture of us. A few hours later, Winter passed away as the snow fell outside. I called my brother, my only family, who lived overseas. Then I took Winter to the crematorium alone. Winter was six. I used to be so proud that he was tall like his father. Now… he fit in such a small urn. I hugged the urn close. “Winter always wanted to see the ocean. Mommy will take you there, okay?” This world was too cruel for him. I preferred the deep, quiet sea. When I walked out of the funeral home, the sun was rising. Half an hour ago, Liam had posted another “Lost Dog” alert. I posted Winter’s obituary. Before blocking Liam, I sent one last text: We’re getting a divorce. My brother, Mark, was waiting at the airport. When he saw the urn, he broke down. In the car, after a long silence, he said, “Don’t worry. I won’t let Liam get away with this.” I nodded. I stayed at Mark’s villa, planning to scatter Winter’s ashes the next day. The next morning, shouting woke me up. I looked out the window. It was Liam. He was yelling at the housekeeper. “Tell Claire to get out here!” “Mr. Miller, you are not welcome here,” the housekeeper said firmly. “I need permission to see my wife?!” He looked up at the house. “Claire! I know you’re in there! You flew halfway across the country to cheat on me? Have you no shame?” “Come out! Bring my son out!”

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My reunion with Lincoln Shaw after twelve years came in the most professional of settings: across a mahogany desk, with me acting as the divorce attorney he was trying to hire. “Sloane, I know you despise her, which is exactly why you should help me without hesitation. Once she’s out of the picture, we can finally be together, the way we were meant to be.” I offered a dry, almost imperceptible laugh. “I’m sorry, Mr. Shaw, but I don’t take cases I’m emotionally conflicted on. And I definitely don’t take your case.” He choked on the refusal. For a long moment, he just stared. Then, a sudden softness crept into his voice, the kind of manipulative nostalgia that used to reel me in. “Sloane, you’ve changed. You used to be the one who couldn’t stand the thought of me being unhappy or hurt.” “Twelve years of erosion can break any kind of love, Lincoln. We’re well past the age for empty romantic gestures.” “You’re truly heartless, aren’t you, Sloane?” Heartless? There was nothing left between us to protect, let alone save. 1 I certainly hadn’t expected to see him again like this. The man across from me, though now in his early forties, still maintained that air of polished, refined charm. But I knew, intimately, what kind of cold, self-serving core lay beneath that perfectly tailored exterior. He showed no surprise at seeing me, which told me everything: he came here looking for me. He wore that expertly crafted mask—half-warm, half-shrewd—as he talked conditions, just as he had when we divorced. His words were soft, yet sharp, like a snake’s tongue—a venomous caress. Every syllable was a carefully hidden strike. “Sloane, I’m getting a divorce, and I want… I want you to handle the case.” He spoke slowly, meticulously tracking my reaction. He was clearly disappointed. He pressed on, a nervous edge to his voice. “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m leaving Talia?” “Mr. Shaw, if you’re here to hire counsel, please state your legal requirements. I am not interested in your romantic backstory. My time is extremely valuable, and I have a heavy caseload to manage.” My cool dismissal seemed to actually satisfy him. A flicker of excitement crossed his face. “I knew you still cared.” I rolled my eyes, a gesture he chose to ignore. He was always skilled at ignoring things, particularly people—just as he’d ignored me during the end of our marriage. He continued his self-pitying confession. “It wasn’t until you left that I realized her sweet, charming act was just a façade. Everything she did was to get me to discard you so she could waltz in and claim everything.” “Sloane, you have to help me. You know I was manipulated, misled into divorcing you.” His attempt at a soulful, sincere look made an irrational surge of anger flare up inside me. “Mr. Shaw, please confine your comments to the details relevant to the dissolution of your marriage. I only require your precise demands.” “I want Talia to leave with nothing.” He spat out the terms, then fixed his gaze on me. “You can make it happen. They say you’re the best divorce attorney at this firm.” “You’re mistaken, Mr. Shaw. There are cases I cannot win. Don’t you recall? When I divorced you, I was left with practically nothing, too.” My smile was pure, bitter irony. His face momentarily seized up, a shadow of that old memory passing over him. Lincoln Shaw. After years of playing the benevolent husband, he probably genuinely believed he was a good man. 2 Lincoln was a natural-born entrepreneur, a genius, really. His talent began to show when he was barely out of his teens. I met him at a college track meet. Back then, he was a little solitary, yes, but he hadn’t yet become this crass, calculating man. The story is a cliché: I’d stained my white track shorts, and he was the one who leaned in and mumbled, “Hey, um… your shorts are stained.” He blushed crimson before I did. Mortified and scrambling for a way to hide the disaster, I was saved when he awkwardly pressed a grey hoodie into my hands. “Take this. No one will notice on your walk back.” That hoodie rescued me from an embarrassing moment, but it also plunged me into a whole new storm. Lincoln was the undisputed star of the Business School—the campus golden boy. He was devastatingly handsome, but so consumed by his investment studies that he was utterly uninterested in dating. He was a long-standing campus legend of singlehood. Until he handed me that hoodie. Suddenly, the campus forum exploded. Who is that girl? Looks like she’s in the Law department. So, our God-tier Lincoln likes the delicate, petite type. She’s pretty plain, honestly. Guess the Big Shot’s taste is… different. The private messages started flooding in—some trying to forge a connection, most of them nasty, passive-aggressive jabs. The comments dug into me. I was notorious for being a bookworm, completely inept at relationships. For years, dating hadn’t even registered on my radar. My unhappy childhood had solidified a single, consuming goal: I had to become a lawyer. I refused to end up like my mother, beaten senseless by my father year after year, eventually just existing—crawling—to survive. I’d pleaded with her to divorce him, but she was too terrified. “Sloane, your dad promised he’d kill us both if I ever tried to leave.” She shook when she spoke, fear having calcified her spirit. Once, I called the police on my own, which almost cost my mother her life. After that, he cut me off from school funding. I started collecting scrap paper, taking any summer job I could find, penny-pinching my way through tuition, all to break free from the suffocating mud of that life. I believed I was utterly rational. Love had no place in my life. I didn’t trust it. Then, Lincoln showed up. Under the thread that cruelly exposed my family’s financial struggles, he posted one single reply: A person’s background isn’t a choice, and yet you use it as gossip fodder. You are the ones who should be ashamed. His comment ignited a firestorm. A new topic erupted: The Great Lincoln had engaged in a campus forum debate. His influence was immense. The people who’d been criticizing and mocking me actually started sending apologies. I didn’t reply to any of them. My time was too scarce. I was in a race against the clock to excel in my studies. A few days later, a text popped up: Can we talk? This is Lincoln Shaw. Lincoln again. A headache started throbbing. Since I’d gotten tangled up with him, my world felt unnecessarily complicated. Finally, I accepted the connection. Some things, I decided, had to be cleared up. When we met, he held a bouquet of red roses, offering a sheepish smile. “I didn’t know if you liked flowers. I hope it wasn’t presumptuous. But this is my way of showing I’m sincere.” The crimson roses were vibrant, and they sent a strange little ripple through my carefully guarded heart. That day, we didn’t discuss much beyond his apology for the unsolicited trouble I’d faced because of him. Yet, I distinctly felt my pulse accelerating. I started anticipating his messages, even posting meaningless updates on my social media—a totally new behavior for me. My roommate, June, noticed and watched me with a raised eyebrow. “Well, look at you. Looks like someone’s heart is blossoming.” 3 Lincoln commented on every post. He seemed incredibly knowledgeable. Eventually, I even risked posting a difficult legal question on my feed, and he’d respond with one or two profoundly insightful suggestions. I thought I’d found a kindred spirit, a true soulmate. I couldn’t ignore his presence anymore. But June brought me back to reality with a cold dose of water. “Sloane, sometimes soulmate connection can’t conquer family ties. Do you even know what Lincoln’s family does?” What does Lincoln’s family do? I froze. I didn’t know. I only knew he was affluent. His posts featured photos of global travel; his clothes were high-end. I’d always assumed he was rewarding himself with the profits of his first entrepreneurial successes. But June shook her head. “Naive Sloane. A genius can’t win without massive capital backing, too.” I felt a suffocating tightness in my chest. I managed a strained, weak smile. “June, I’m not pursuing anything with him.” I meant it. I couldn’t dare to. With my broken family, even if Lincoln truly loved me, what good would it do? Besides, he hadn’t actually said he loved me. Reality told me he was probably just trying to make amends for the mess his attention had caused me. That stunning bouquet of roses eventually dried out. I preserved them, still deep red, but lifeless. I realized it was a beautiful illusion, a mirage in a glass. I pressed the dry flowers into a bookmark and listed it on a second-hand marketplace. A day later, a buyer contacted me. He offered double the price but insisted on an in-person exchange. The money tempted me, but I was hesitant about meeting a stranger. Safety was a concern. Finally, I suggested a compromise: we could meet at the busy coffee shop across from the university. No risk there. The buyer agreed instantly. I was stunned when I arrived and saw Lincoln waiting. He saw the bookmark in my hand, sent the payment via Venmo without a word, and then looked at me, his eyes gentle. “I never realized how clever you are with your hands. Now, this bouquet has a new meaning.” The roses he’d given me had circled back to him. Even later, after we married, that bookmark hung framed on our wall. But just like that object, even the most cherished thing becomes stale and unexciting after you look at it for too long. After that meeting, Lincoln started asking me out to coffee and dinner constantly. I exhausted every possible excuse to avoid him, but he was relentlessly persistent. When we finally met again, he cut straight to the chase. “Sloane Reynolds, are you trying to avoid me?” I couldn’t speak, guilt making me flustered. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to be direct. “What exactly do you want, Lincoln?” He looked momentarily lost for words. Then, he answered with some difficulty. “I thought you knew. I’m trying to court you.” I froze. He’d just said it, plainly and simply. A rush of pure, unadulterated joy slammed into me. My heart hammered against my ribs. Years later, I would still think about that afternoon, and feel a pang of that first exquisite thrill. But the irreparable fissure of what we became would always follow. Seeing my silence, he pressed, “Is there something I’m doing wrong that stops you from accepting my feelings?” “Sloane, you can reject me, but I’ll keep trying until I win you over.” “I truly only want to be with you, until the end. We’ll be together, forever and ever.” 4 Lincoln lied. His family vehemently disapproved of our relationship and promptly cut him off. He was literally kicked out of their penthouse. His mother looked at me with open contempt and scoffed, “A girl like her is just a fleeting crush. This love will lead nowhere.” Lincoln refused to believe her. He used the connections and small amount of seed money he had to invest aggressively, and, astonishingly, he carved out a successful path for himself. Then, he set his sights on the international market. During this time, we were inseparable. I was moved. He’d practically rebuilt his life for me. “I want you to know that I can support you just fine, even without them,” he promised. To give me peace of mind, he found a lawyer for my mother and forced my father into a divorce. My mother moved near my university and lived with us. Lincoln even helped her set up a small boutique shop. It felt like our lives had finally turned a corner. My mother adored Lincoln. “Your taste in men is so much better than mine, honey.” My heart swelled with a secret sweetness. A voice in my head argued against the whole world: If there is only one genuinely good man in this universe, it’s Lincoln Shaw. But Lincoln was struggling. He was sleeping only two hours a night, his work schedule a crushing cycle. He was visibly wasting away. During those rare moments, he’d hold me tight and repeat his vow, “Sloane, as long as you’re by my side, I can handle anything.” Yet, this man, who supposedly loved me so fiercely, cheated on me just three years into our marriage. It was with an intern from his company—a nervous, timid girl who seemed like the last person Lincoln would ever notice. The bitter irony? I was the one who kept her on staff. She’d applied for an executive assistant position, but her English skills were poor, and she booked a crucial meeting at the wrong time. Lincoln flew into a rage. “Who hired this deadweight? This blunder is costing us thousands! Who’s going to pay?” He spotted me, then slumped into my arms, the picture of aggrieved exhaustion. He held me, complaining, “I’m furious. How can a person be so utterly incompetent?” I saw Talia Vance cowering in a corner, trembling, and I saw a flash of my former self. I couldn’t help but defend her. “Maybe she just wasn’t ready for that position. Let her move to a different role to train, and she can come back later.” Lincoln was furious and gave me the cold shoulder for an entire day. “You think everyone is as driven as you are? That girl has no ambition. She doesn’t belong in my company.” “But I started out just as anxious and timid as she is! Lincoln, you’re the golden boy. You don’t understand how long it takes for the rest of us to recover from one small mistake.” That single sentence stuck in his mind. It also became the knife he eventually used to stab me. He started giving Talia a second chance. He would occasionally mention her to me: “The girl has potential. She just needs confidence. She could be a star someday.” His focus on her began to intensify. He even coached her through a project during our movie date. When the movie ended, he offered an apologetic smile. “Her project is actually really promising, just a little rough around the edges. Sorry, Sloane. I lost track of time when I got into work.” I told him it was fine, that I should be understanding. They were working hard. Until our anniversary. I went to the office to surprise Lincoln, who claimed he was working late. The staff who saw me had a strange, knowing look in their eyes. A woman’s intuition is rarely wrong. I walked quickly to Lincoln’s corner office. The moment I pushed the door open, I heard Talia’s sugary, breathless voice: “Oh, Lincoln, stop it. You’re being naughty. I can’t—”

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After my family went bankrupt, I was picked up off the street by my former, gloomy lackey and taken to his cramped rental apartment. I was spoiled and delicate, constantly complaining about the food and the living conditions. To support me, he worked eight part-time jobs a day. The way he looked at me grew darker and more terrifying by the minute. But the conditions were still subpar, and I honestly couldn’t stand it anymore. The day I decided to throw a tantrum and leave, a translucent comment stream—like a Twitch chat—floated across my vision. [Just let the side character leave. She’s abandoning the only person who can help her reclaim her family fortune.] [Yeah, later when she finds out the Male Lead is loaded, she tries to crawl back. So stupid and pathetic. Why would he want her then? She ends up getting hit by a truck. RIP bozo.] [Why isn’t she moving? Throw a tantrum! If she doesn’t leave, the Female Lead won’t have a chance to capture the Male Lead’s heart. He looks all gloomy, but wait until you see him in action…] I froze, staring at the words “reclaim her family fortune.” My lackey asked coldly, “What? Is the food not to your liking again?” I stopped my hand, which was about to smash the bowl on the floor, and gave a reserved nod. “It’s… passable, I guess.” 1 To show my sincerity, I scooped up a huge spoonful of oatmeal and shoved it into my mouth. I didn’t realize that while the surface had cooled, the bottom was still scalding hot. I flinched in pain. “Caleb! Why didn’t you let it cool down before bringing it to me?!” Tears welled up in my eyes. I stuck out my scalded, red tongue and glared at him accusingly. I totally forgot about the whole “be nice to Caleb to get my money back” plan. [Thought this side character changed her ways? Nope, still a brat. Even if she doesn’t leave, the Male Lead is gonna snap eventually.] Reading that comment, my arrogance deflated instantly. I was about to stammer out an apology. But Caleb turned around without a word and walked away from the table. Panic surged in my chest. I stood there, helpless. Until he came back and grabbed my chin. Caleb’s gaze was quiet but intense, focused on my mouth. He popped an ice cube into my mouth, his fingers brushing against my lips. “Keep it there.” Who gave you permission to order me around? I puffed out my cheeks and sucked on the ice, surprisingly not arguing back. Caleb didn’t have much time. After making my meal, he shoveled a few bites into his own mouth. Then he had to rush to his next gig. Before leaving, Caleb stared at me for a long moment, then said slowly, “Be good and wait for me to come back.” I felt a little guilty. If I hadn’t seen those comments, I would have already stormed out in a huff. But now… Sneaking away like a coward? That’s not my style. My guilt looked like agreement to Caleb. He walked over, face dark, and clamped his hand around my wrist. “I’m not going. Ava, don’t even think about leaving.” I wanted to cry. If he skipped work, our quality of life would tank even further. Skipping a whole afternoon? We’d starve. “I’m not leaving! Caleb, don’t you want to buy me that bag? Go to work!” I finally managed to chase him out. I collapsed onto the rock-hard mattress, thinking about the bitter days ahead, and actually started crying. Ugh, if I had known, I would never have gone home with Caleb that day. 2 For the first twenty-some years of my life, everything went my way. I was the jewel of the wealthy Sterling family. I had a posse of followers who flattered and obeyed me. Caleb was the quietest, most unlikable one of the bunch. Since he was a scholarship student sponsored by my family and was decently handsome, I was usually willing to let him tag along. But he didn’t know how to suck up. He just stared at you with those gloomy, silent eyes. Being stared at like that made me uncomfortable, so I bullied him in public quite a few times. Then my father went bankrupt and was framed, ending up in prison. My former followers moved into my mansion, and I was kicked out, barefoot. My so-called friends just laughed at me. Even my posse was threatened into silence; no one dared to help. In the cold wind, I heard more mockery than I had in my entire life. When I was terrified and lost, it was Caleb who found me. He brushed the dirt off my feet and silently carried me on his back. This gloomy, cold man… his hands gripping my thighs were burning hot. I sniffled. “What are you doing here? Here to laugh at me too?” He said simply, “I’m taking care of you from now on.” I blurted out, “Why? I was so mean to you.” I regretted it as soon as I said it. Finally someone came for me. I was freezing to death. After a long silence, Caleb said, “Just repaying a debt. Don’t overthink it.” Unexpectedly, he actually had a conscience. I was cold, so I pressed tight against his back. Caleb looked thin, but his broad shoulders blocked the wind completely. He walked steadily, step by step. An unfamiliar emotion began to spread in my chest. I suddenly felt like crying. I looked up and said stubbornly, “Fine… I’ll temporarily allow you to take care of me.” 3 Later, I realized what that emotion was. Gratitude. I rarely thanked anyone. From birth, I got whatever I wanted. Good things were supposed to be mine. Why would I need to be grateful? This resulted in my gratitude sensors being extremely weak. Just one day after Caleb took me in, I regretted it. I wanted to scream. Caleb poured me water. Me: “Does boiling toilet water suddenly make it drinkable?” Caleb cooked for me. Me: “Cheap ingredients matched with your atrocious cooking skills. It’s garbage upon garbage.” I threw tantrums all day until bedtime. As soon as I lay down, I cried. How can a mattress be this hard?! Caleb padded it with everything he had, but I still couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, finally sitting up. “Hey, stop sleeping on the floor. Come up here.” Caleb’s breathing hitched. “Don’t mess around, Ava. How can I sleep with you?” Everyone called me “Princess” or “Miss Sterling,” but Caleb refused. My rebellious streak flared up. “No! I need you to be my human mattress!” Caleb didn’t move or speak. I pouted. “Fine. If you don’t come, I won’t sleep.” I sat cross-legged on the bed, prepared to outlast him. Moonlight streamed through the window. I saw a struggle on his face. Finally, he gave in. “Don’t move around. And of course, I won’t do anything…” Caleb was giving disclaimers. But I had already picked my spot, curled up, and hugged him tight. Caleb stopped talking mid-sentence. I felt much better. I used to sleep hugging a giant polar bear plushie. Caleb wasn’t as soft, but the size was about right. I was in a good mood, muttering “Goodnight” to myself. Then I fell into a deep sleep. In my dream, the plushie got warmer and warmer, like a little furnace. So cozy. I hugged tighter. 4 Since then, I’ve been sharing a bed with Caleb. Today was no different. Caleb, looking exhausted, brought a basin of warm water for my feet. “Wash up and get in bed. I’ll dump the water after I shower.” The comment stream exploded. [Is this girl for real? Living off him and making him wash her feet? She should be serving him!] [Ahhh when does the Female Lead show up? Only she will treat our boy right.] [Soon, soon. Then this brat can go live on the streets!] I was confused. I’ve had people wash my feet since I was a kid. I was used to it. I didn’t think Caleb minding was bad. I knocked my head. I said I’d be nicer to him today. So I got out of bed and clumsily dumped the water myself. Water splashed on my hands. I was disgusted and washed them several times. When I came back, Caleb had just finished showering. Seeing me holding the basin, he paused. “Why did you dump it yourself?” I shrugged. “Felt like it.” After getting in bed, Caleb habitually tried to pull me into his arms. I refused. I thought, I dumped the water and I’m not using him as a mattress. That’s nice enough, right? He shouldn’t kick me out now. Unexpectedly, Caleb sat up, face dark, eyes scary. “Ava, what is wrong with you today?” I felt wronged. I was being nice, and he was yelling at me? I snapped, “I sleep how I want! What’s your problem?” Hearing this, the rims of Caleb’s eyes turned red. He looked even scarier. He grabbed my wrist tight, leaving a red mark. “Ava, do you think I’m a toy? You play with me when you want and toss me aside when you don’t?” He guessed it. He was literally the replacement for my polar bear. Caleb read my expression and gritted his teeth. “What are we, Ava? What is this?” What are we? I’m not a rich heiress anymore, and he’s not exactly my lackey. I stammered, unable to answer. Caleb gave a dark smile, locked me in his arms, and wrapped his limbs around me tight. “Ava, I don’t care what we are. I’m never letting you go.”

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My husband found himself a wealthy mistress. Every few days, he’d secretly transfer money to my account. In just six months, he sent me a cool $618,000. I was considering divorcing him. But then I thought about it. Screw that! Divorce? Every second spent thinking about leaving him was an insult to the money. Where else would I find such a “family-oriented” husband who hustles so hard for our bank account? I should let him rake in a little more, right? 1 Sierra slapped me so hard my face burned instantly. “Are you crazy?” I looked up at her, clutching my cheek, totally bewildered. “Chloe! You liar! Are you and your husband running a scam on me?!” Before I could react, my coworkers swarmed around us. “Who are you? Why did you hit her?” She pointed a finger right at my nose and started screaming. “Your husband, Chase, used my credit card to transfer money to you! Six hundred and eighteen thousand dollars in six months! Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” I froze for a second, then it clicked. Ah. This must be Chase’s sugar mama. The “Side Piece.” She grabbed my collar, her face twisted in rage. “You dirty couple! Six hundred grand! Did you think I was an ATM just to clear your shopping cart?” With that one sentence, I became the center of attention. Every phone in the office was out, cameras flashing. Sierra raised her hand and slapped me again, knocking me to the floor. She shouted to everyone, “Look at her! This woman is a fraud! She and her husband are scammers!” She cursed and tried to hit me again. My coworker, Lisa, stepped in. “That’s enough! We know Chloe. Stop or we’re calling the cops!” “Call them! Do it!” She laughed like a maniac. “I want to see how she explains this to the police! Spending my money? I’m going to beat you until you’re toothless, or my name isn’t Sierra Vance!” She was thrashing like an angry octopus, trying to tear me apart. My colleagues held her back while she screamed. I smoothed my messy hair and stood up. Calm. Unbothered. “Ma’am. You keep saying my husband and I scammed you. I don’t even know who you are. How exactly did I scam you?” She glared at me, trembling. “Don’t play dumb! I don’t believe you don’t know who I am!” I gasped, covering my mouth in mock surprise. “Wait… what is your relationship with him?” Sierra blushed, glancing around nervously. “It doesn’t matter! You stole my money, and you’re going to pay it back!” I stared straight into her eyes. “Are you… my husband’s mistress?” That set her off. She lunged. “Bullshit! He’s keeping me? He’s a broke driver! He couldn’t afford me! I was keeping him…” The office gasped in collective shock. I smiled faintly. “So, you admit you had an affair with my husband?” She choked but doubled down. “So what?! Chase is a dog! He spent my money, drove my car, and used my cash to support his wife!” I pulled out my phone, satisfied. “I recorded that. And I’ve called the police for assault. My colleagues are witnesses.” “See you at the precinct.” Hearing I was pressing charges, Sierra lost it completely and tried to swing at me again. 2 The police arrived just in time. We were hauled off to the station. The moment we sat down, she started wailing. She claimed fraud, emotional damage, the works. She pulled out chat logs and transfer records with Chase as proof. “Officer, look! I bought him a house, a car! And he gave all the money to this woman! How could he do this to me?” Tears streamed down her face. She was genuinely heartbroken by Chase’s betrayal. But the cops just stared at her. Like she was an idiot. She claimed fraud, but her own evidence proved she was having an affair. She knew he was married. A homewrecker coming after the wife? The audacity was impressive. “Civil disputes aren’t our jurisdiction,” the officer said dryly. She jumped up. “He used my money to feed his wife! There has to be a law against that!” Just as she was about to throw a tantrum, Chase arrived. Sierra flew at him, pummeling his chest. “Chase, you bastard! You played me!” She collapsed into sobbing hysterics. The police pried them apart. Chase, face scratched and bleeding, glared at her. “Sierra, are you out of your mind?” “You call me crazy?! Where is your conscience? I treated you like a king, and you gave everything to her behind my back!” Chase didn’t even blink. “Stop screaming! She’s my wife! Who else am I supposed to spend money on?” I watched from the side, jaw on the floor. Well. That was a new one. He saw me then, and his face transformed into pure concern. He rushed over. “Babe, are you okay? Are you hurt?” Seeing the bruise on my face, he turned on Sierra, furious. “Look what you did! I told you to leave my wife alone!” Sierra snapped. “Chase! How can you do this? Are you even a man?” “Yesterday you held me and said you loved me! You said you wanted to marry me! If I hadn’t seen the transfers, you would have emptied my accounts, wouldn’t you?!” “I said I loved you and you believed it?” Sierra wept, broken. “You said you had no feelings for your wife! You said she was a nag! You said she was a dead fish in bed! You said I was exciting…” “Shut up!” Chase turned beet red. “Have some shame!” “I’m telling you the truth now. I never loved you! I was just with you for the money!” “You were stupid enough to throw yourself at me!” “I only love my wife. Get that through your head!” He grabbed my hand and dragged me out, leaving Sierra standing there in the wreckage of her delusion. 3 The moment we got home, Chase dropped to his knees on the living room tiles. “Chloe, I messed up.” I ignored him, pouring myself a glass of water. “I’m scum. I shouldn’t have let you get hurt. I was blinded by greed. I don’t care about her money or her looks… she just… she threw money at me…” He was crying now, begging. It was confusing. Did he love me? He cheated. Did he hate me? He hustled over half a million dollars from his mistress and gave it all to me. “So, what? Should I give you a ‘Husband of the Year’ award?” He went pale. “I just made a mistake. It’s a mistake any man could make…” The bedroom door opened. My in-laws rushed out. “You idiot!” My mother-in-law smacked the back of his head. “We have a good life! Why go out and mess around?” They didn’t know the details, only that their son had angered me again. Since Chase was useless career-wise and I paid the bills, they always took my side. After a scolding, Chase confessed everything. A year ago, he got a job driving for a wealthy tycoon. Over the last six months, he transferred me $1.3 million total. I asked where it came from. He said the boss gave him stock tips. Turns out, he was being a gigolo. Sierra was the tycoon’s mistress. And she was keeping Chase on the side. My in-laws were horrified. His mom started crying. “You worthless boy! Earning dirty money like that!” Chase hung his head, face burning. “I know I was wrong. But I swear, I never wanted a divorce. I felt nothing for her!” “Nothing? Then why sleep with her? Can’t control yourself?” His mom raised her hand again. Chase flinched. “She forced it! She said I was… good. She said her old man was useless, treating her like a pet. She was lonely! She threatened suicide if I left…” I scoffed. “Popular guy.” He crawled to me, grabbing my pant leg. “Chloe, I swear, I never wanted to leave you. I just saw how rich she was. I make nothing. You work so hard… I just wanted to help…” Right. So I should give him an award. Selling his body to support his wife. Kissing me by day, servicing a sugar mama by night. The hustle was real. “Okay,” I looked down at him. “So, she’s suing us for fraud. She wants the money back. What’s the plan?” Chase stiffened. “Screw her! She gave it willingly! I earned that money! Why should I give it back?” I told him to get up, but he clung to my leg. “Chloe, if you don’t forgive me, I won’t get up. What do I have to do?” I stared at him. “I can forgive you. But…” 4 Six months ago, when the first transfer hit, I knew something was off. Stock tips? From a billionaire to a chauffeur? Please. I checked his phone while he slept. I found the texts with Sierra. Chase was a master manipulator. He gave her exactly the emotional validation she craved, and she paid him for it. The funny part was, he immediately forwarded the cash to me. My first instinct was divorce. My best friend, Zoe, called me an idiot. “That necklace you’re wearing? How much?” she asked. “Three grand.” “Bracelet?” “Five hundred.” “Bag?” I couldn’t help it. I smiled. She grinned back. “See?” My anger evaporated. “Look,” Zoe said. “Your husband’s… equipment… was just gathering dust. Now he’s putting it to work for the family economy. It’s brilliant!” I nodded. “Valid point.” “If it were me,” she laughed, “I’d make sure he kept that mistress happy so the checks keep clearing.” I raised my glass. “To you. The voice of reason.” “What else do you need?” she asked mischievously. I pretended to think. “An Audi A6.” A month later, the money for the Audi hit my account. I pretended not to know where it came from. I moved it to a secure account. I made Chase soup. A reward for his hard labor. He drank it with tears in his eyes. He used to beg for my attention. Now that I was “sweet” to him, he was putty in my hands. “Babe, you’re so good to me,” he sniffled. I smiled. Not as good as you, working the night shift. When I told him we needed to fake a divorce so he could scam her for one last big score, he cried. “Chloe! You haven’t forgiven me! I won’t do it!” I pushed him away gently. “I don’t blame you. Really.” He gulped. “Serious?” “Yes. We divorce on paper. You go back, make up with her, and keep the money flowing.” He stared. “You… aren’t afraid I’ll leave for real?” I laughed. “Could you?” He shook his head violently. “Never.” I leaned back. “Sierra is a gold mine. $600k isn’t enough for a kid, for a future. We need to think big.” He was silent, eyes red. “Chase, I’m doing this for us. For our family,” I said softly. “The opportunity is right there. Are you willing to do the work?”

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The day I finally agreed to start treatment, Rhys’s sister told me the truth. Paige hadn’t been assaulted by my brother, Dean, the way they claimed. It had all been a calculated stage play, orchestrated with Daphne, Rhys’s childhood sweetheart. “Daphne is my best friend. She’s been in love with my brother forever, and she begged me to help her drive you away.” “That’s why I did it. I’m sorry.” I clenched my hands so hard my nails dug crescent moons into my palms. A game? Because of this “game,” my only family, my brother Dean, was forcibly institutionalized. And the very next day, he was reported as having “fallen accidentally” to his death. And for three years, Rhys had subjected me to a slow, brutal torture, a path that led me to this room, where I had just been diagnosed with terminal gastric cancer. I stared at the messages on my phone, a tear sliding down my face that was already curved into a strange, hollow smile. “Doctor, I apologize. I’ve decided not to go through with the chemotherapy.” Dean was the only soul I had left in the world, and he died because of me. Now that the lie had shattered, it was time to join him… 1 Paige, Rhys’s sister, had tracked me down at the clinic. She found me on the day I finally agreed to continue treatment. She confessed that no, she had not been assaulted by Dean. It was a scheme she and Rhys’s lifelong obsession, Daphne, had cooked up together. “Daphne’s been obsessed with my brother for years. She was terrified you’d stay in the ‘wife’ position forever, so she begged me to help her.” Paige’s voice was soft, but the words sliced into me like shards of glass. “I only wanted to help my friend. I never thought it would go this far. I’m so sorry.” I squeezed my hands tight, the sharp edges of my nails biting into the flesh. A game. But my brother had been dragged away to a psychiatric ward by Rhys. The day after, the news came: he had “accidentally fallen” to his death. And I? Rhys had kept me by his side for three years, a leash around my neck, torturing me until my body broke down and developed incurable gastric cancer. I laughed, the sound catching in my throat, and the tears finally began to fall. “Doctor, I apologize, but I’m not going to do the chemo.” Dean was all I had. And he died because I existed. Now that the truth was exposed, there was nothing left to anchor me here. It was time to go. The doctor rushed out of the exam room after me, his voice sharp with urgency. “Your condition isn’t hopeless! Stick with the chemotherapy and you have a fifty percent chance of recovery. Don’t give up!” I shook my head and kept walking. Fifty percent. What did it matter? I hadn’t wanted to live for a long time. After Dean’s death, the only thing that kept me breathing was the twisted impulse to “atone” for the crime I thought we’d committed. Now I knew there was no crime. For three years, everyone had whispered that I was nothing more than Rhys’s dog. Every night, he forced me to kneel for two full hours before I was allowed to rest. My knees were a landscape of scarred, raw, then healed, then raw again flesh. Rhys never left me alone. He dragged me everywhere to pour drinks for his clients, allowing those greasy, powerful men—men like Mr. Price—to grope me, to touch me however they wished. I’d always been allergic to alcohol. One glass, and my skin would erupt in hives, my breathing strained. He was never moved. Time and again, I was rushed to the emergency room to have my stomach pumped. I’d barely recover before he’d drag me out by the throat. “It hurts, doesn’t it? That’s the pain your brother inflicted on my sister. You need to pay it back tenfold!” …He would take me forcibly, too. Over and over, tearing away my last shreds of dignity when I was most broken, most resistant. In three years of marriage, I had been pregnant nine times. But as soon as the test confirmed the pregnancy, he would drag me to the hospital for an immediate termination. The ninth time, the doctor looked at my deathly pale face and sighed. “My dear, if you keep this up, forget about having children. You’ll be lucky to live past thirty.” Rhys had been standing right there, a cold sneer on his face. “Whether she lives or dies is up to me.” My body was a wreck now, a fragile thing that a gust of wind could shatter. So, when the gastric cancer diagnosis came, all I felt was a profound sense of relief. Just then, Rhys’s name flashed on my screen. “Get to the hotel, now. A big deal is on the line…” I hung up before he could finish the sentence. I flagged down a cab and headed straight to Dean’s gravesite. On the ride, memories of Rhys flooded my mind. When we first met, he had been good to me. He told me he had been raised by only his sister, so he felt a natural pull to look out for me. In the winter, he’d tuck my freezing hands into the warmth of his pocket. He drove across half the city just to buy a small snack I’d mentioned offhandedly. I was moved, and naturally, I accepted his confession. But after we got together, I learned how wealthy his family was. At the time, I felt shame. I wasn’t just an orphan raised only by my brother; Dean had developed a mental illness, severe and unpredictable, after years of being tormented by local bullies while trying to protect me. I didn’t want to be a burden on Rhys. After discussing it with Dean, I made the heartbreaking decision to break up with him. But that night, Rhys knelt outside my dorm building. He stayed there, soaking wet, all night. He texted me: Rowan, I will only ever love you. If you leave me, I honestly won’t survive. In the end, I gave in. I ignored Dean’s frantic warnings and stayed with him. Now, all that was left was regret. At the cemetery, I knelt, gently tracing the outline of Dean’s face on the photo affixed to the tombstone. The tears welled up again. “Dean, I came to see you.” “Were you missing me? Don’t worry. A week from now, I’ll be here to stay.” I sniffled, my voice thick with emotion. “You were right, Dean. Rhys wasn’t the one for me. I should have listened and stayed away. Then you wouldn’t have…” A fierce cough cut off my words. A coppery sweetness welled up in my throat. I raised a hand to wipe my mouth. There was bright red blood on my palm. “See, Dean? I’m fading fast now, too. We’ll be reunited soon.” “And then, we’ll never be separated again, okay?” I sat beside the tombstone, murmuring stories to him. I cried for a long time until I had no tears left. The sky suddenly darkened, and a heavy rain began to fall. I didn’t move. I leaned against Dean’s grave, closed my eyes, and let the rainwater wash over me. My consciousness began to blur, and a searing cramp twisted my stomach. I curled into a ball on the ground, shaking uncontrollably. Just as I was about to pass out, I heard footsteps. It was Rhys. He stood over me, holding a black umbrella. His brows were tightly furrowed, and a flicker of distress—barely perceptible—crossed his eyes. It was immediately replaced by revulsion. “You think hiding here will stop me from finding you?” His voice was ice-cold. “Rowan, who are you putting on this pathetic show for?” He reached down and yanked me up. “Get up and come with me! If we miss this deal, can you afford the loss?” My face remained blank. “I told you, I won’t listen to you anymore, Rhys.” “Your sister confessed. She was never harmed by my bro—” “Shut up!” My words were cut off by his furious roar. His eyes turned vicious. “You have the audacity to mention my sister? You and your brother owe her a debt you can never repay!” “Until you’re dead, you will stay right here, by my side, being my dog and paying for your sin!” A mocking smile stretched across my lips. “Rhys, you hate me that much?” Hate me enough to wish for my death… Don’t worry. I’m dying. You won’t have to wait long. The pain in my stomach intensified violently. My vision went black, and I completely lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes, I was lying on a hotel bed. Rhys saw I was awake and sneered. “Finally awake. I thought you were planning to keep faking it.” He thought I was faking my collapse. I closed my eyes, too weak to respond. But Rhys stood up, came to the bedside, and pinched my jaw. “Don’t play dead. Mr. Price is waiting next door. Get going.” I shook my head, about to refuse. He grabbed my arm and dragged me up, forcing me step by step toward the adjoining suite. Mr. Price sat at the head of the table. His eyes lit up when he saw me. “Rhys, you finally brought her in.” He immediately reached out, wrapped an arm around my waist, and let his hand wander across my back. “Mrs. Blackwood, you didn’t get enough to drink last time, did you?” He grabbed a bottle of liquor and poured a full glass. “Come on, drink this with your ‘buddy’ Price, and the project is a sure thing.” The pungent smell of the alcohol shot into my nostrils. My stomach heaved, and I retched violently. “What’s this? The wife isn’t giving me face?” Mr. Price’s face darkened. Rhys stood nearby, his eyes cold as steel. “Drink it.” I had no choice. I took the glass and tilted my head back, forcing the liquor down. The alcohol burned, making me tremble. Mr. Price roared with laughter and poured another. “Good girl. That’s the spirit! Another one!” Glass after glass. The pain in my stomach was agonizing; I could barely sit upright. Suddenly, Rhys frowned and strode over, snatching the glass from Mr. Price’s hand. “That’s enough, Mr. Price. We’ll call it a night.” Mr. Price was stunned, then laughed. “Oh? Is Rhys getting protective?” Rhys didn’t reply. After seeing Mr. Price out, his gaze dropped to my ashen face. A flicker of something—a panic I couldn’t place—crossed his eyes. “What is wrong with you?” He finally thought I wasn’t faking. Just then, the door to the suite burst open again. “Rhys, I’ve been looking all over for you.” Daphne walked in and headed straight for the couch, sitting down beside me. When she thought no one was looking, she viciously pinched my arm. The sharp, sudden pain cleared my head slightly. “Rowan, honey, what’s wrong?” Daphne asked, feigning concern. “You looked so ill a moment ago, but now you’re better? Were you trying to get out of drinking?” Rhys’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t push me further. Daphne, not missing a beat, linked her arm through Rhys’s. “Rhys, didn’t you promise to take me dress shopping today? For the wedding?” I froze. My mind went blank. Daphne turned to me, her eyes glittering with triumph. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Rhys and I are getting married.” “We were always meant for an alliance, you know. You’re not mad, are you?” I said nothing. After a moment, a thin smile touched my lips. “Congratulations. I wish you both a happy marriage.” My voice was perfectly calm. Rhys’s face immediately fell. “Rowan, I don’t need your hollow well-wishes.” “Don’t think that once I divorce you, you’ll be free. You will stay by our side for the rest of your life. You will continue to atone.” Daphne gave a light laugh, then took my hand, her tone falsely intimate. “Rowan, you have been married once; you have experience.” “Why don’t you come wedding dress shopping with me right now? Help me pick one out?” This time, I didn’t refuse. At the bridal boutique, Daphne excitedly tried on gown after gown. When she emerged in a stunning mermaid silhouette, a flash of pure wonder crossed Rhys’s eyes. He walked over and embraced her from behind. “You’re beautiful.” They were sickeningly intimate, yet I felt no ripple of emotion. Daphne turned to me, smiling as she waved me closer. “Rowan, come over here and take a few pictures for us.” She handed me a camera. “Take lots, for memories.” I took the camera and mechanically pressed the shutter button, my face devoid of emotion. I was a robot. My utter lack of reaction seemed to infuriate Rhys. He frowned, his lips tightening. “Come here.” “Kneel down. Help Daphne put on the wedding shoes.” I remained standing. I didn’t move. “Did you not hear me?” His eyes instantly hardened. He reached out and shoved me. I stumbled and fell hard to the floor. Before I could catch my breath, Daphne laughed and tossed a pair of scarlet red heels in front of me. “Rowan, come on. See if they fit, will you?” I was completely drained of strength, lying on the floor, unable to speak. Daphne saw my state, then simply lifted her foot and placed it firmly on my back. The sharp pain forced a moan from my lips. “Rowan, why aren’t you moving?” Her voice was laced with malice. “Do you need me to beg?” I couldn’t take it anymore. I tried to push her away, to scramble to my feet. But Rhys was faster. He kicked me hard in the chest. Thud. I crashed back onto the ground. A sharp, searing pain exploded in my ribcage. I struggled to breathe. “Stay put,” Rhys warned, his voice low. “Don’t embarrass me here.” Daphne then bent down, picked up the heels, and tried them on herself. “It’s okay, Rhys. I’ll do it myself. Rowan must be exhausted.” Rhys glanced at me, then said nothing else. I don’t know how much time passed. They finally finished selecting the dress and shoes. Rhys looked down at me. “Get up. Come back with us.” I slowly picked myself up, swaying slightly. I followed them out of the boutique. We returned to the Blackwood estate. It used to be the home Rhys and I shared as husband and wife. Now, it was his and Daphne’s home. Daphne was spoiled like a princess and never had to lift a finger. I, however, had become their servant. I had to personally cook every meal. And I had to kneel while serving them dinner. Daphne seemed to relish the feeling. She constantly kissed and held Rhys in front of me. I, meanwhile, remained utterly impassive, clearing their plates. Soon, their wedding day arrived. Rhys dragged me out of bed early and took me to the hotel. The venue was magnificent. Rhys led me to the entrance of the grand ballroom, his eyes colder than ever. “When Daphne walks down the aisle later, you’ll lie on the floor.” “She will step over you on her way in.” I snapped my head up, staring at him, utterly incredulous. “What? You won’t do it?” Rhys scoffed. “Rowan, don’t you forget, you and your brother owe the Blackwood family a debt that lasts forever.” “Serving as a human stepping stone is getting off easy.” He turned and left to meet his bride. I walked to the backstage waiting area, my body numb. The pain in my stomach was a grinding, constant agony. My head began to swim. I don’t know how long I waited. I heard the strains of the wedding march begin. I knew they were starting the final rehearsal. Suddenly, the room spun. I felt myself slipping away. Without thinking, I grabbed my phone and dialed Rhys’s number. I couldn’t explain why I did it. Maybe a final, desperate thread of hope remained. But when the call connected, it wasn’t Rhys’s voice that answered. It was Daphne’s. “What? Still trying to win Rhys’s sympathy?” “I suggest you behave. My wedding with Rhys is about to officially begin. Don’t ruin this for me.” My world tilted, and I blacked out completely. At the same moment, at the ballroom entrance rehearsal, Rhys was holding Daphne’s hand, ready to walk in. He instinctively glanced at the designated spot ahead. It was empty. Where is that woman? He frowned, a sudden, inexplicable feeling of dread rising in his chest. He called his assistant over. “Where is Rowan? Go get her.” The assistant ran off, searching frantically. He returned moments later, his face white as a sheet. “Mr. Blackwood, sir, something is wrong!” “Ms. Cross collapsed backstage. There’s blood everywhere. She… she has no vital signs.”

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I was still basking in the joy of my son, Austin, scoring a perfect 1600 on his SATs when he impatiently dragged his girlfriend in front of me. “Mom, the new ‘Package Deal Admission Policy’ is out! If you’re in the top ten percent, you can pay a million dollars to bring another student with you to the same university!” The girl smirked triumphantly. “Auntie, Austin and I have already linked our application profiles. You can’t stop us from being together anymore. Just pay up!” At the same time, a barrage of glowing subtitles flashed before my eyes: [Here it comes! The Male Lead is finally escaping his controlling mother to fly off to Harvard with Baby Girl!] [You old witch, don’t you dare stop our couple! Or else when the ML inherits the family business, you’ll be the first one he deals with!] I curled my lips. This fool thinks he’s inheriting the family business? He doesn’t know that the prerequisite for this so-called “Package Deal” is averaging their scores. And his girlfriend scored a grand total of 7 points. 1 In his senior year, Austin’s grades slipped, and I was called to the school for the first time ever. The reason? A high school romance. For any parent of a senior, this is devastating news. I tried to reason with him, telling him this wasn’t the time for love. Especially since that girl, Lily, wasn’t just anyone. “Her mother is the mistress your father had! Your father left us with nothing because of her, and she’s held a grudge ever since. Now her daughter is getting close to you. Do you really think that’s a coincidence?” Austin argued back fiercely, “Mom, Lily is innocent! Why should she pay for her mother’s mistakes?” Getting into Harvard had been his dream for years. We were so close to the finish line; I couldn’t watch him ruin it. Seeing he wouldn’t listen, I took drastic measures. I had him strictly supervised, forbidding him from seeing Lily until after graduation. I hired top tutors for one-on-one sessions and a nutritionist to ensure he was in peak condition for the exams. When he finally scored a perfect 1600, I was relieved. But before I could even celebrate, he pulled this stunt. … From the floating subtitles, I learned I was living in a romance novel. My son, Austin, was the Male Lead, and Lily was the Female Lead. They were from different worlds but fell in love at first sight, defying all odds to be together. Eventually, they’d become the CEO and his trophy wife. As for me? I was the “obstacle.” I tried everything to stop their love, only to end up locked in a mental hospital by my own son, dying miserably. … I was busy reading the subtitles when Austin, seeing my silence, narrowed his eyes. “Mom, a million dollars is nothing to you. You wouldn’t stop my happiness with Lily over such a small amount, would you?” That look, that stance—he really thought he was a CEO already. He was the child I raised with blood, sweat, and tears. I still held onto a sliver of hope. “Austin, have you thought this through? Setting aside Lily’s background, are you really planning to go to college with someone who refuses to learn?” Austin pursed his lips, hesitation flickering in his eyes. Seeing this, Lily immediately started crying. “Auntie, I know you’re prejudiced against me. But who says low scores mean I don’t deserve Harvard? Everyone is created equal! This is discrimination!” Listen to that. Does that even make sense? Unexpectedly, the subtitles above them cheered: [Baby Girl is right! It’s 2025, why judge students by scores?] [Choice is greater than effort! As long as she has the ML, Baby Girl can win with zero points!] [Ahhh! Baby Girl is so brave! Fighting the power!] I was almost laughing at these delusional comments. “Right, right. Why shouldn’t people with bad grades go to Harvard? In my opinion, the SAT shouldn’t test knowledge, it should test audacity. Whoever has the thickest skin gets in first.” Lily’s face turned red, then pale. She collapsed into Austin’s arms. “Sob… I told you your mom hates me… Austin, I guess I can’t go to Harvard with you.” Seeing his love wronged, Austin was heartbroken. He glared at me. “Mom, you hate Lily because you’re jealous that Auntie Sarah got Dad’s love, aren’t you? But I’m your son! Why can’t you compromise for me?” The subtitles went wild with [Domineering protection!] and [Love to see it!]. Even though I was mentally prepared, my heart still trembled. “What did you call her? Auntie Sarah?!” 2 Austin was busy comforting the weeping beauty in his arms, his eyes full of tenderness. When he looked at me, his mother, there was only regret for slipping up and undisguised hatred. “Yes! I went to see Dad right after the exams! Auntie Sarah isn’t unreasonable like you say. She’s gentle and caring. She’s taken great care of Dad and Lily all these years. Unlike you—always in meetings and dinners. Besides making some money, what have you ever done for this family?” I shook all over, unable to believe my ears. … When he was seven, his father cheated. The mistress constantly provoked us, spreading rumors, making our lives hell. The husband who vowed to love me forever fought me tooth and nail for assets. I was exhausted trying to stop him from hiding marital property. Thankfully, the outcome was good—he left with nothing, and the mistress got zilch. Looking back, those days were harder than building my business while raising a child alone. I never sugarcoated his deadbeat father to him. He was old enough to remember how the mistress humiliated us, pointing at his nose and calling him a bastard. He shouldn’t have forgotten. … From the subtitles, I got an idea. “I see—you mean, even though I gave you lots of money, what you wanted was lots of love?” Austin’s voice was firm. “Exactly! I got into Harvard like you wanted. Now I advise you to stop while you’re ahead. Don’t block my happiness!” I almost laughed out loud. Going to Harvard was his dream since childhood. How did it become my requirement? Austin was average at best. I poured millions into resources to mold him into a top student capable of chasing that dream. I gave him a prestigious background and endless wealth. But if his dream is to run off with a delinquent, then as his mother, I should support him. “Fine. I agree to let you go to college with her.” Ungrateful wolves deserve a ruined future. Austin, ready for a fight, was ecstatic at my sudden agreement. “Mom, I knew you’d understand! When Lily and I graduate from Harvard, we’ll take over the Gu Group and let you retire in peace!” I sneered internally. A fool wants to inherit the family business? Keep dreaming. 3 Austin was lost in joy, but Lily nudged him urgently, whispering, “The money! The money!” He remembered the main point and held out his hand. “Hurry up and give me the million dollar processing fee!” I raised an eyebrow. “A million? I recall the processing fee for this policy is a hundred bucks. Can’t you even afford that?” Austin was stunned, face flushing. “Really? M-maybe I remembered wrong.” Lily looked unwilling and wanted to argue, but Austin dragged her away in embarrassment. The subtitles faded with them: [Ahhh, the old witch is so cheap! The ML planned to use that money to travel the world with Baby Girl!] [Seriously! Baby Girl even got her passport. How will they go to Greece or see the Northern Lights now?] [Whatever, at least the witch didn’t interfere. Our Baby Girl suffered for years, her good days are coming!] [The ML spoils her so much, the whole Gu Group will be hers soon. Who cares about a million?] [Wait… the Package Deal policy just came out. How did the witch know they were trying to scam money so fast?] Heh. How did I know? Because you idiots spoiled the plot. … After they left, the annoying subtitles vanished. I was pruning flowers in the garden when Austin’s homeroom teacher rushed over. “Austin’s mom, Austin linked his profile with the lowest-ranking student for the Package Deal. Did you know?” I nodded calmly. “I know. He’s an adult. Let him be.” The teacher was frantic. “No! You must not know! The condition is that their scores are averaged! That girl only got 7 points!” Of course I knew. The subtitles screamed it. I knew, Lily knew. Only Austin, the idiot, was in the dark. I also knew the only way to fix this was to use my money and influence to force Lily into Harvard. Everyone assumed that out of love for my son, I would do it to save his future. But why would I? Why would anyone tolerate the child they birthed becoming the knife that stabs them? I calculated on my fingers and smiled. “Averaged out, that’s an 800 roughly. Not bad. Enough for community college.” The teacher looked at me like I was insane. After trying to persuade me in vain, she finally accepted the loss of a Harvard acceptance and left in despair. … My assistant was confused. “Chairman Gu, are you really letting him ruin himself?” “Him?” I sneered. “He’s already sided with his deadbeat father. He’s no son of mine.” The assistant wasn’t sure if I was just angry or serious. “Should we cancel the graduation banquet? If people find out Austin is going to community college, it’ll be a joke.” I thought for a moment. “Don’t cancel.” “Didn’t one of the students we sponsored become the state Valedictorian? Throw the banquet for her.” 4 I visited Sophia personally. She lived in a dilapidated apartment building, alone since her parents died. As I reached the door, the subtitles swarmed again. I stopped my assistant from knocking. The door was ajar. Voices argued inside. Lily and her gang of delinquents pushed a thin girl to the ground. “Keep acting! Why stop now? You love seducing men, don’t you?” “I warned you to stay away from Austin. Why didn’t you listen? Did you think getting top scores and going to Harvard would make him notice you?” Sophia’s voice trembled. “I didn’t…” Lily pinched her chin hard. “Let me tell you—Austin already linked his scores with mine. His mom will do anything to get us both into Harvard.” “You better be smart and change your application to community college. Otherwise, when we get to Harvard, I’ll make your life hell!” What kind of upbringing makes a teenager talk like that? Yet the subtitles cheered: [Wow, Baby Girl declaring sovereignty is so cool!] [White rabbit turns into a wolf! Love it!] Some questioned it: [Isn’t the FL’s character ruined? This is bullying!] [The supporting character doesn’t even like the ML. Why is she always the imaginary enemy?] But rational voices were drowned out: [Don’t like it, don’t read! Why must the FL be a sweet idiot? Why can’t she be a villainess?] [Who told the supporting character to steal the spotlight?] [Careful Baby! Don’t break her hand! If she can’t do experiments later, how will you steal her patents?] I couldn’t take it anymore. I kicked the door open. Lily turned furiously, but froze when she saw me, dropping the stick she raised. I rushed to Sophia, helping her up. “Are you okay?” Sophia stood up shakily, whispering, “Thank you, Auntie Gu. I’m fine.” Lily rolled her eyes. “Stop pretending…” I cut her off with a glare. “Assistant Zhang, call the police!” … The gang spent hours at the station and paid Sophia for emotional damages. It wasn’t much, but enough to hurt them. Coming out, Lily glared at me caring for Sophia. “Just you wait! I’m telling Austin!” I thought the Female Lead had some power. Turns out her move is tattling to my useless son. I glanced at her. “Go ahead. If you don’t, I’ll look down on you.” “You—” Lily choked. She didn’t dare. That’s why only her mom, Sarah, came to bail her out. The reputation of a bully isn’t good for her “fragile flower” act. I hadn’t seen Sarah in years. Rivals should be furious, but I couldn’t care less about them. My focus was on Sophia. “Were you scared? If they bully you again, tell me immediately!” Sophia teared up. “Thank you, Auntie Gu. You’ve helped me so much. I’ll repay you when I can.” The Gu Group sponsored many students, but Sophia stood out. Not just for her grades, but because ever since she found out I was her sponsor, she sent anonymous gifts every holiday. Handwritten letters, knitted gloves, local specialties… inexpensive, but full of heart. I asked why she sent them anonymously. She said shyly, “You sponsored us anonymously too. Who I am doesn’t matter. I just want your kindness to receive a tiny echo.” Plus, the subtitles told me that in the future, when I was in the mental hospital, she fought the leads to save me until she was beaten to death. It’s ironic. A child who received a little help from me was grateful enough to die for me. Yet the son I poured everything into stabbed me in the back without hesitation. … Realizing I was ignoring her, Lily spoke sarcastically. “By the way, Auntie Gu, Austin didn’t tell you? He’s staying at our house for a while. He says he loves my mom’s garlic ribs.” Sarah’s eyes mocked me. “What’s the use of money? Can’t keep a husband when young, can’t keep a son when old. How pathetic.” Sophia didn’t know our history but sensed the hostility. She stepped in front of me. “You aren’t fit to bully Auntie Gu.” Lily scoffed. “Oh, can’t seduce Austin so you’re sucking up to his mom? Look in a mirror!” “You—” Sophia was furious. I pulled her back and looked at Sarah coldly. “I almost forgot. seeing you reminded me—” I narrowed my eyes. “It’s time to settle your debt.”

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During my solo performance at the company’s annual gala, a massive fart sound blasted from the speakers. Immediately, a foul stench filled the hall. My colleagues frowned, pinched their noses, and looked at me with disgust. The new intern, Jenny, screamed dramatically, “Oh my god, Sarah! Are you performing a talent show or releasing poison gas?” Everyone burst into laughter. I glared at her furiously. “Jenny, is this another one of your pranks?” She put on an innocent face. “Why are you blaming me for your own gas?” “I know I like to joke around, but you can’t just use me as a scapegoat, can you?” “Okay, okay, fine, let’s say it’s my fault. My bad for not reminding you to eat fewer sweet potatoes before going on stage.” “Everyone, just pretend I let that one rip, okay?” I was shaking with rage. Ever since Jenny joined the company, she’s been setting me up to embarrass myself. Because I had no proof, I had to swallow my anger every time. But this time, Jenny, you’ve messed with the wrong person. 1. My colleagues immediately started pointing fingers at me. “Sarah, don’t bully the new girl. It was just a fart, no one said anything.” “You’re just a small team leader, not a big shot. Trying to force your subordinate to take the blame?” “It’s not like Jenny made you fart. How can you blame her?” “Honestly, passing gas is natural. We all laughed it off, but you dragging it out just makes it awkward.” Their words piled up, cementing the narrative that I publicly humiliated myself and tried to use my position to force the new girl to cover for me. The hotel staff hosting the gala were covering their mouths, snickering. The smell lingered, and a colleague smirked maliciously. “Sarah, are you still letting out silent ones?” “If you need to go, just go. This hall is small, if you keep releasing, we’re all gonna get poisoned!” “I’m about to throw up my lunch.” “That smell is intense. Did you sh*t your pants?” My face burned red with shame and anger. “Are you guys deaf? That sound clearly came from the speakers!” “I didn’t fart!” Colleagues covered their noses and backed away from me. “It feels like your breath smells like it too.” “Who told you to eat sweet potatoes? No self-control for the sake of your appetite?” I screamed in frustration, “I didn’t eat sweet potatoes! I was so busy with the gala today I didn’t even eat!” “Come on, Jenny saw you. Just admit it.” “Jenny, did you say she ate sweet potatoes?” Jenny put on a troubled expression. “Sarah, I…” “Jenny, don’t be scared. She’s just a team leader, she can’t fire you.” “If she tries to give you a hard time, we’ll all testify for you to the boss!” Jenny looked at me with fake apology. “Sarah, I saw you eat that huge roasted sweet potato. Why won’t you admit it?” “Actually, it’s normal to have gas after eating too many sweet potatoes! At least you know now, just don’t eat them in public next time.” She feigned concern, but I could see the triumphant smirk hiding in the corners of her eyes. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to calm down. “Since that’s the case, let’s check the security footage and see where that ‘fart’ really came from.” “Waiter, where is the surveillance room? There should be cameras near the audio equipment, right?” “I suspect my audio file was swapped.” Jenny’s expression tightened. She quickly adjusted her face. “Seriously, Sarah? Why are you taking this so seriously?” “You’re wasting everyone’s time. If we check the footage and find no one swapped your audio, are you going to find another excuse?” “It’s already been ten minutes.” Hearing about wasted time, my colleagues turned on me again. “Sarah, are you crazy? We just want to finish the gala and go home!” “Just because you don’t have a husband or kids doesn’t mean you can hold us up!” “Making a huge scene over a fart!” “Checking surveillance for a fart? If this gets out, our whole company will be a laughingstock!” Jenny put on a martyr’s face. “Alright, Sarah. If you insist it was me, then it was me. Can we stop arguing? There are still other performances.” “Just consider it my fault, okay?” 2. My colleagues looked at her with admiration. “Jenny, you’re such a team player. Unlike some people who only think about themselves.” I was trembling with rage. “Jenny, this isn’t the first time you’ve pulled a prank on me!” Ever since Jenny joined the company, I started making embarrassing mistakes constantly. Once, I walked out of the restroom, and everyone burst out laughing. “Sarah, pads go inside your underwear, why is yours stuck to your butt?” “So gross, are you trying to show off your heavy flow?” Shocked, I reached behind me and felt a bloody pad stuck to my pants. I was instantly nauseous. I wasn’t on my period that day. That pad wasn’t mine. And the trash can in my stall was empty. It couldn’t have stuck to me by accident. In the restroom, I had brushed past Jenny. Did she stick it on me on purpose? But how could anyone be that evil? A few days later, during a presentation, my PowerPoint opened to play Japanese adult videos. The boss’s face turned black on the spot. The decision to promote me to manager was shelved. My USB drive was plugged into the conference room computer ahead of time. Someone had clearly swapped it. The person responsible for setting up the room was Jenny. No one else went in before the meeting. But there were no cameras in the conference room. With no evidence, I could only tentatively ask her if she touched my drive, if she made a mistake. Jenny burst into tears, wailing, “Sarah, I know you’re embarrassed, but you can’t blame me!” “If you didn’t download those dirty movies, you wouldn’t have humiliated yourself.” “It’s your own problem, why blame me…” She cried so hard she almost hyperventilated. Colleagues rushed over. “Sarah, why are you bullying the new girl? Just because you embarrassed yourself doesn’t mean you can lash out.” “You think this girl put porn on your drive? That’s hilarious.” Everyone surrounded Jenny, wiping her tears and comforting her. I clearly saw the corner of her mouth lift in a smile. But without proof, I had to let it go. The next day, I stood up from my desk to get water and felt my shoe sticking to the floor. I could barely lift my leg. Jenny watched me walk and snickered. “Um, look at Sarah’s legs. She looks exhausted.” “Doesn’t it look like… like she got wrecked last night?” Everyone laughed. “Makes sense. With all those videos on her drive, she must be horny.” “Sarah, aren’t you single? Do you have a ‘friend’ for that?” “That friend must be good. Look, she can barely walk. How many rounds?” Jenny batted her ‘innocent’ eyes. “Huh? Sarah doesn’t have a boyfriend?” “Sarah, you have to be careful. Don’t hook up randomly, you’ll get diseases.” “It’s fine if it’s just something treatable, but if you get HIV or something, we’re all in danger.” I looked at her coldly, lifted my foot, and peeled off a strip of super glue tape. So, this tape was what made it hard to walk. My colleagues shut up. Jenny said innocently, “Sarah, everyone’s just joking. Don’t take it seriously.” 3. I spoke coldly. “That’s not a joke. That’s spreading rumors.” A few colleagues looked disdainful. “Just a little teasing, don’t be so dramatic.” “So sensitive. Can’t even take a joke.” I tilted my head and looked at them. “Why are your mouths so dirty? Did you eat too much dick working the red light district last night?” They looked at me in shock. I shrugged. “Sorry, just a joke.” Hearing me bring up these past events, Jenny cried tears of grievance. “Sarah, how can you frame me like this? I admit I speak without thinking sometimes, but I didn’t do those things!” “What proof do you have that I swapped your drive or taped your shoes?” Other colleagues chimed in. “No wonder you can’t make manager. Petty as hell, holding onto grudges forever.” “You’ve been bullying Jenny all along. Don’t try to rewrite history now, we remember!” Jenny choked out, “Forget it. I know Sarah has always looked down on me.” “When I first started and bought everyone bubble tea, she just threw hers away.” “And I bought her the most expensive one.” My colleagues got angrier. “Right! We almost forgot about that!” “Jenny was nice enough to treat everyone, and you had such an attitude!” When Jenny first joined, she brought bubble tea for everyone. I took a sip and smelled something foul. It was nauseating. Afraid of mass food poisoning, I stopped everyone. “This tea tastes wrong, don’t drink it!” I thought the unethical shop used spoiled ingredients. But after tasting theirs, my colleagues looked at me like I was crazy. “What’s wrong with it? It’s delicious.” “Jenny was nice enough to treat us, why are you being a buzzkill?” “Is it because the new girl bought more expensive tea than you did when you got promoted? Jealous?” I forced myself to take another sip, fighting the nausea. “It really tastes wrong. Can’t you taste it?” “Try mine…” Before I could finish, Jenny interrupted with a hurt expression. “Sarah, yours is different. I bought you the most expensive one on the menu.” “I just wanted to show my appreciation. I didn’t know buying a premium brand would upset you.” “Next time I’ll just buy the cheap stuff.” I opened my mouth but said nothing, assuming maybe the expensive ingredients just spoiled faster. Later, I threw the tea away. I didn’t expect this incident to become proof that I “looked down” on Jenny. Jenny looked at me, crying. “Do you know that tea cost $8? I’ve never even bought one for myself…” Everyone rushed to comfort Jenny, just like every time before. “Sarah! Apologize to Jenny!” “Just because we call you ‘Team Leader’ doesn’t mean you’re actually the boss. This is workplace bullying!” Bullying? Who is bullying whom?! “I won’t apologize for something I didn’t do.” I put on my coat and left the gala. The pranks were endless. Jenny, since you have no limits, don’t blame me for playing dirty. After the holiday break, my colleagues gave me the cold shoulder. I ignored them and handed a USB drive to Jenny. “Print this file for me.” She didn’t know my cousin was a top-tier hacker. Over the break, I asked him to make a Trojan horse. The moment that drive plugged into Jenny’s computer, her laptop was mine. 4. After the pad prank, I had glimpsed a chat on Jenny’s screen: “I pranked her again today, so satisfying!” Later, as she targeted me repeatedly, I thought about looking for evidence on her computer. But back then, I felt snooping was wrong. Now, I understood. When dealing with someone with no bottom line, you have to fight back by any means necessary. With control of her computer, the chat logs were laid bare. Every time she pranked me, she bragged about it to her best friend. And in the latest chat, I saw her next plan. “I’m going to cement Sarah’s title as the ‘Fart Queen’, hahaha!” “Let’s see if she has the face to stay in the company after this.” Reading her plan, I smiled. Jenny, let me teach you what it means to walk into a trap. On Wednesday, the CEO, Mr. Zhao, was coming for a regular meeting. Jenny volunteered to set up the conference room alone. In the conference room, we all stood by our seats, waiting for Mr. Zhao to sit. As soon as Mr. Zhao sat, the chair wobbled. Looking down, a screw on one leg was loose. I immediately pulled out Mr. Zhao’s chair and pushed mine behind him. “Mr. Zhao, take my chair.” “No!” Jenny’s voice rang out abruptly. She looked panicked, breathing fast. Mr. Zhao glanced at her. “Why not?” Jenny realized she lost her composure and forced a smile. “I meant, we can just tighten the screw. No need to swap chairs.” I smiled. “It’s fine. I’ve been practicing my balance lately. A wobbly chair is perfect.” “Mr. Zhao, please begin.” Mr. Zhao nodded, and everyone sat down. Jenny sat down slowly, panic written all over her face. I saw sweat on her forehead, her hands trembling. Mr. Zhao settled in and began outlining the new year’s work plan. A few sentences in, a loud fart noise came from under Mr. Zhao. Mr. Zhao paused, adjusted his tone, and continued. A moment later, another fart. Colleagues lowered their heads, exchanging glances, trying not to laugh. Mr. Zhao frowned. Another irregular fart sound rang out. He paused for a few seconds, then ignored the noises and finished his speech in one breath. Everyone was shaking from holding back laughter, except Jenny, who was sweating buckets. After the meeting, Mr. Zhao put down his notes, stood up, and lifted the cushion on his chair. A small black square sat in the middle of the seat. A colleague gasped. “Isn’t that a prank toy? I’ve seen it online. It makes random fart sounds when pressure is applied.” Realization dawned on everyone. So that’s where the noise came from. Mr. Zhao picked it up, looked at it, then looked straight at Jenny, his voice devoid of emotion. “Jenny, explain this.” Jenny stood up in a panic, stammering, “I, I don’t know, I’ve never seen this thing!” “Mr. Zhao, it must be Sarah! She swapped chairs with you!” “Sarah, you embarrassed yourself at the gala, so now you want to drag Mr. Zhao down with you? You’re evil!” Everyone looked at me, ready for a show.

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1 Seven years after I was thrown out of my home, I ran into my sister in a nightclub. She was the VIP in the high-roller suite, dropping a fortune to celebrate her protégé’s birthday. I was one of the atmosphere models, paid to keep the party going. We didn’t exchange a single word the entire night. Not until I was offered five hundred dollars to down two bottles of brandy in a row. As I stood there, my face a ghostly white, she finally spoke, her lips a thin line, her voice dripping with ice. “You’d rather do this disgusting work than come home and apologize?” she asked, her voice low and sharp. “Nathan, you’ve really made something of yourself.” I just offered a weak, indifferent smile and held out my hand. “Five hundred dollars. Cash or Venmo?” Time had washed away the sharp edges of our old feud. I had no energy left to argue. But five hundred dollars was the exact amount I needed to pay the final installment on my urn. … The private room fell silent. Every eye was on me, a mixture of pity, amusement, and contempt. Someone snickered. My sister, Clarissa, her face flawlessly composed on the velvet sofa, instantly hardened. She was humiliated. Five hundred dollars. To people like her, it wasn’t even enough for breakfast. Yet here I was, her brother, debasing myself for it by chugging liquor. Her protégé, a smug young man named Leo, sneered at me. “Clarissa has been waiting for you to come home, and this is what you’re doing? Don’t you feel… dirty?” I glanced at him. “I’m earning my money honestly. It’s not like I’m sleeping with anyone. What’s dirty about that?” He laughed, a cold, dismissive sound. “Are you that desperate for cash? Fine. Drink two more bottles. I’ll add another five hundred.” The onlookers, sensing blood in the water, started to join in. “Yeah, drink up! If Leo’s adding five hundred, so will I!” “Count me in! I’ll throw in a grand!” I didn’t hesitate. I reached for another bottle. Just then, the door to the room swung open and the club manager bustled in, his face a mask of fawning concern. He pushed me aside and bowed slightly to my sister. “Ms. Sterling, is there a problem? Did this employee do something to offend you?” he groveled. “Please, don’t be angry. He’s new, if he…” “Are you going to drink it for him?” Clarissa’s cold voice cut him off. Her eyes narrowed. Sweat beaded on the manager’s forehead. He didn’t want to stand up for me, but he was terrified I’d drink myself to death on his watch. He forced a strained laugh. “That’s so much liquor, Ms. Sterling. No one could actually drink all that. It could be fatal.” “Then get out.” Clarissa’s brow furrowed with impatience. She pulled a thick stack of cash from her handbag—ten thousand dollars—and slammed it onto the manager’s chest. “Nathan isn’t leaving this room tonight. If you try to interfere again, you can kiss your club goodbye.” The manager fumbled with the money, his face breaking into a delirious grin. He stuffed the cash into his pocket, all concern for my well-being vanishing instantly. With a quick “thank you,” he was gone. All eyes were back on me. Clarissa’s lips curled into a sneer. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want the money anymore?” My face was a blank mask. I walked over, grabbed a bottle, and tipped it back. I’d already had two, and my stomach was twisting like a knife was buried in it. I drank this one slowly, which earned me a chorus of jeers from the crowd. Clarissa’s expression grew darker with every agonizing swallow. I finished the bottle and swayed, reaching for the next one. She shot up from the sofa and her hand clamped around my wrist like a vice. “Are you trying to kill yourself, Nathan?!” “I want the money.” I wrenched my arm free, grabbed the last bottle, and started to pour it down my throat. I had a plan. The lighting was dim. I’d pretend my hand was unsteady, let some of it spill. No one would notice. But I’d barely taken a sip when a hand cracked across my face. The sharp slap sent my head ringing. The bottle slipped from my grasp and shattered on the floor. Clarissa stood over me, her teeth clenched, her voice a furious hiss. “Have you no shame? Is money all that matters to you?!” “Stop it! You can drink yourself to death for all I care, but you won’t get a single cent from me!” The alcohol hit me then, a dizzying wave that made the world fracture into a kaleidoscope of colors. And a voice, a memory I had buried for seven long years, exploded in my ear. “You sold Mom’s heirloom for money? Did I not feed you? Did I not clothe you? Why don’t you sell yourself while you’re at it!” “Get out of my house! From this day forward, I don’t have a brother!” Seven years ago, Leo had set me up perfectly. He’d stolen our mother’s emerald bracelet from Clarissa’s room and sold it, then told her I was the one who did it. She was incandescent with rage. She made me kneel in the snow for three days and three nights, demanding to know where I’d sold it. But how could I know? I told her it was Leo, that he was trying to drive a wedge between us, that he was jealous of the bond we shared. She refused to believe me. Theft. Disrespect. Stubbornness. Three cardinal sins, each one a direct hit on her deepest values. Egged on by Leo’s crocodile tears, she confiscated all my money and threw me out onto the street. For the first six months, I did okay. I got a job in sales, enough to support myself with a little left over. But then everything changed. Clarissa made the one and only phone call she would make to me in seven years. Her first words were: “Aren’t you ready to come home and admit you were wrong? Just tell me where you sold the bracelet, and I’ll forgive you.” I was still running on pride and fury. “I told you it wasn’t me! Are you deaf? Ask your precious Leo! He’s the one who sold it!” She hung up. The next day, I was fired. She put the word out across the entire city: anyone who hired me was making an enemy of her. For the next six and a half years, I couldn’t find a single legitimate job. My only option was to work as an atmosphere model in places like this. It was like she was doing it all for show. She publicly announced that Leo was the sole heir to the Sterling corporation. She took him to interviews, galas, and auctions, showering him with lavish gifts, spending millions without a second thought. Their faces were constantly splashed across the financial news channels. And I watched from the shadows, drinking myself into stomach cancer just to survive. I spent the last few years seeing doctors, burning through every penny I had. I took out payday loans, but it was never enough. The experimental drugs were too expensive, and chemotherapy was a pipe dream. I tried calling her once to borrow money. I’d barely gotten the words out before she cut me off. “Money, money, money! Is that all you ever think about?” she’d spat. “Don’t even think about getting a dime from me until you come home and apologize. You can die in a gutter for all I care!” That was the phone call that extinguished the last flicker of hope. I was so tired. Truly. If she wanted me dead, then fine. I would die. At least then, the pain would stop. A month ago, I ordered myself an urn. I scraped together most of the cost, but I was still five hundred dollars short on the final payment. The owner called me almost every day, demanding the rest. I thought I would finally have it tonight. But Clarissa had given the manager ten thousand dollars without a thought, yet she wouldn’t spare five hundred for me. She swept out of the club with her entourage, leaving me to wretch my guts out in the bathroom. Only one thought echoed in my mind. Three bottles of brandy. All for nothing. My shift supervisor was smoking a cigarette nearby. “What the hell did you do to Ms. Sterling? She looked ready to kill someone when she left. What’s the deal between you two?” My stomach was on fire, my head spinning. I could barely open my eyes, clinging to the toilet to keep from falling in. “We don’t know each other,” I rasped. “Just enemies, I guess.” The next day, a phone call dragged me from a fitful sleep. It was the man from the urn shop. “Mr. Sterling, when are you going to pay the remaining balance? It’s five hundred dollars. Are you really going to drag this out for a month?” “If you can’t pay within three days, I’m selling it to someone else! And you’re not getting your deposit back!” My voice was a raw whisper. “Please, just give me a little more time. I get paid in two weeks, I can give it to you then…” “I can’t wait two weeks!” he snapped. “I’ve never seen anyone like you, dragging your feet over buying an urn. If you don’t have the money, why did you order such an expensive one in the first place?” I tried to say something else, but he had already hung up. My head was splitting. I called my manager, hoping to get an advance on my salary. His response was even more brutal. “Just calling to let you know, you don’t need to come in today. Or ever again.” “And don’t expect a final paycheck. Ms. Sterling gave the order. Our hands are tied.” A roar filled my ears. My voice was shrill with panic. “You can’t do that! That’s illegal! I’ll report you to the labor board!” The manager laughed. “Go ahead. Ms. Sterling said she’ll assume full responsibility for any consequences. Her legal team is the best in the country. If you want to walk into that buzzsaw, be my guest.” He hung up. A thick ball of rage and despair was lodged in my throat. My face was pale, and I could taste rust in my mouth. A sudden, violent cough, and a spray of crimson splattered onto my threadbare sheets. I stared at the bright red stain, and the tears I’d been holding back for so long finally broke free. After a long while, I mechanically wiped up the blood, then fumbled for my painkillers and swallowed them dry. When I was done, I had no strength left. I leaned against the bed and thought about the last seven years. I realized, with a sudden, chilling clarity, that every escape route, every chance I had, had been systematically destroyed by my own sister. Now, I couldn’t even work at the club. Eating was a problem, let alone paying for painkillers or an urn. All I wanted was a beautiful place to rest when I died. What was so wrong with that? I buried my face in my hands and sobbed until the afternoon, when a sliver of strength returned. Looking at my trembling hands, I made a decision. I was going home. I was going to ask Clarissa Sterling why. Why she had to do this to me. She and Leo were in the middle of dinner when I arrived. She glanced up at me, her voice flat. “So, you’re finally willing to come back?” “Why did you have the manager fire me?” I asked, my own voice just as devoid of emotion, ignoring her question completely. “Seven years. Haven’t you humiliated me enough?” She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “A little hardship is the only way you’ll learn that home is where you belong. Nathan, do you have any idea what people are saying about you out there? The only reason you haven’t heard the worst of it is because I’ve been suppressing the rumors. And you’re still not grateful?” Leo put down his fork, his tone oozing with false sympathy. “Clarissa, he just doesn’t understand how much you do for him. Look at him. He’s clearly blaming you.” “Shut up!” I lunged at him, my hand raised to strike. But in the next second, Clarissa’s arm shot out, blocking the blow. Her face was like stone. “Now you’re resorting to violence? I see you’ll never learn your lesson.” Her voice dropped, each word a frozen dagger. “Don’t test me, Nathan. I can make it so you can’t survive in this city.” My heart seized, as if caught in a brutal grip. Can’t survive? Isn’t that what she’d been doing for the past seven years? Destroying every job, extinguishing every flicker of hope, leaving me lower than a rat in the gutter, so broken I couldn’t even afford my own grave. I had enough. I was done with her threats. My control shattered. “I DID NOTHING WRONG!” I screamed, the words tearing from my throat. “Clarissa, if you won’t let me live, then fine! I’ll die! Is that what you want?” “I’ll go to hell! You can’t control me there, can you?” My words seemed to trigger something in her. Her face twisted with rage. “Even in death, you will forever be in my debt!” She shoved me. It wasn’t a hard push, but my body was weak. I stumbled backward, my lower back slamming against the sharp edge of the dining table. A white-hot pain exploded through me, and a cold sweat broke out all over my body. A flicker of regret crossed Clarissa’s face. She turned away. “Until Mom’s heirloom is returned, you don’t even have the right to die.” With that, she strode from the room. I was in too much pain to get up. Leo stood over me, his arms crossed. “Look at you, big brother. So pathetic.” “How about this? You get on your knees, you beg me, and maybe I’ll tell you who I sold that little trinket to. What do you say?” My eyes burned with a hatred so intense I wanted to rip him apart. But I knew I didn’t even have the strength to hit him. Seven years of humiliation. And I couldn’t even have a shred of dignity at the end. Clarissa’s words echoed in my head. “Until Mom’s heirloom is returned, you don’t even have the right to die!” “Even in death, you will forever be in my debt!” Fine. If I get the bracelet back, will you finally let me die in peace? I wiped the tears from my face and, with the last of my will, I knelt at Leo’s feet. I pressed my forehead to the cold floor. Once. Twice. Three times. “I’m begging you. Tell me where Mom’s bracelet is.” In the past, whenever he’d tricked me, I’d fought back with everything I had. But this time, I had nothing left. Leo suddenly looked bored. The fight had gone out of me, and it was no longer fun for him. He tossed a slip of paper onto the floor. “There’s the address. But good luck getting your hands on it, brother.” Numbly, I picked up the paper. I found a public bike and rode to the address, a pawn shop in a remote, run-down part of the city. When I explained why I was there, the owner said nothing, simply retrieved the emerald bracelet from a safe. Clearly, Leo had already arranged everything. I felt nothing. I just wanted to give the bracelet back to Clarissa, to sever our ties once and for all. But as I reached for it, the owner’s hand let go a fraction of a second too soon. With a sickening crack, the bracelet hit the floor and shattered into a dozen pieces. I froze, the color draining from my face. “Hey, kid! Why weren’t you more careful?” the owner exclaimed. “That’s not on me!” “Nathan!” Clarissa’s furious voice came from behind me. I whipped around and met Leo’s triumphant gaze. He had his arm linked through hers. “See, Clarissa? What did I tell you? He did it on purpose!” he said, his voice a pitch of faux-outrage. “He’d rather shatter Mom’s bracelet than give you the satisfaction. And you were actually thinking of forgiving him!” Clarissa didn’t seem to hear him. Her eyes were glued to the glittering green fragments on the floor. She walked forward, her movements stiff and heavy. She knelt, and for a long moment, she just stared. Then, slowly, she began to pick up the pieces, her knuckles white as she clutched them in her palm. “It wasn’t me,” I whispered, a desperate panic rising in my chest. “He dropped it. And I never sold it in the first place…” At the sound of my voice, she shot to her feet and slapped me, hard. The force of the blow sent me sprawling to the ground. The pain in my stomach flared, my cheek burned, and involuntary tears streamed down my face. Her chest heaved, her face a terrifying mask of fury. “You still dare to make excuses? For seven years, I gave you a chance! I told myself, if you just come home, just tell me where Mom’s bracelet is, I’ll forgive you.” “But what did you do?” she screamed, losing her composure in a way I had never seen before. “Nathan, you don’t deserve to be a Sterling. And you certainly don’t deserve to be my brother!” Her words sent my heart plummeting into a black abyss. I felt a hot, metallic taste in my throat and swallowed hard, forcing the blood back down. My voice was a choked sob. “What if… what if I was really dying?” “Stop with the pity party,” she spat, her eyes filled with disgust. She was squeezing the broken emeralds so tightly that blood began to drip from her palm. “Even if you were to drop dead right now, I wouldn’t feel a thing.” “Okay.” I clenched my fists and shakily pushed myself to my feet. In that moment, something inside me settled. I was already dying. The feuds, the debts, the blame… none of it mattered anymore. If she wanted to believe I did it all, then fine. I did it. After I’m gone, I’ll be nothing but a box of ashes. None of this will have any meaning. I let out a bitter laugh and turned to leave. “Where do you think you’re going?” she yelled after me. “Will you not be happy until you’ve driven me to my grave?” I didn’t look back. My voice drifted over my shoulder. “You don’t have to die. I will.” … For the next two days, Clarissa didn’t contact me. She took the bracelet to a master jeweler, only to be told that no matter how it was repaired, it would never be the same. The flawed, patched-together result only fueled her rage. On the first day, she held a press conference and publicly disowned me. Her face was a cold, emotionless mask. “From this day forward, I will no longer be involved in Nathan Sterling’s affairs,” she announced to the stunned media. “Whatever job he takes, even if he sells his body, I will not interfere. I only ask that no one ever mention his name in my presence again. The sound of it makes me sick.” She was ruthless. My name was struck from the family registry that same day. On the second day, she took Leo to the family mausoleum. She had his surname legally changed to Sterling and formally acknowledged him as the heir. A concerned relative asked her, “Is this really necessary? Nathan is still your brother. What if something happens to him?” Clarissa’s lips were a thin, hard line. Her tone was mocking. “What could happen? I’ve spent seven years crushing him, and he’s still alive and kicking, isn’t he?” “He won’t die. He doesn’t have the guts. And he wouldn’t have the courage to face Mom.” Unfortunately for her, she was wrong again. Because I was right there beside her, in spirit form. I had been dead for two days. I drowned myself in the river near our old home. The pain, both physical and emotional, had become unbearable. Death was a release. But on the third day, something I never expected happened. Clarissa received a phone call from the owner of the urn shop. He was practically shouting into the phone. “Are you Nathan Sterling’s sister? He listed you as his emergency contact, so don’t try to deny it!” “Your brother ordered an urn from me, and he still hasn’t paid the final balance. Do you want it or not?”

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It wasn’t until the wraith came to claim him, shattering his arm, that my brother finally felt a shred of remorse. He knelt on the floor, weeping and begging for my forgiveness. In my last life, in his desperate haste to share a night of passion with a younger student—a natural-born spiritual beacon—my brother, Hank, had taken the family’s Warding Amber. When the vengeful spirits came for us, I called him for help. My sister-in-law and my little niece were saved. But his precious student, Monica, was consumed by the wraith and died. Hank had calmly collected her hair tie, assuring me everything was fine. Then, on the day my sister-in-law gave birth, he pushed me off a cliff. “If you hadn’t called me back, Monica would still be alive! You owe me a life for a life!” Now, my eyes snapped open again. The lights in the villa flickered and died, and the gurgling, sinister laughter of a wraith echoed through the halls.

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