Category: English

My name’s Oscar. I’m 27, run a private logistics firm that’s done surprisingly well over the last few years. And until recently, I was dating a woman named Daniella. We’d been toget her for about two years. On paper, it looked picture-perfect. She was smart, charming, from an old money family with all the polish you’d expect—polished teeth, polished dinnerware, polished judgments. Me? I was the outsider. The guy who didn’t grow up summering in Florence or brunching with investment bankers. The guy whose father left when he was ten, who worked two jobs in college and built his business from the ground up without connections, handouts, or family dinners in mansions with fireplaces taller than him. And to be honest, I was fine with that. I liked my quiet wins. Daniella and I met at a conference in San Diego. She was working in non-profit consulting, had a sharp wit, and was surprisingly down-to-earth—for a while. The first six months were great. She said she liked that I was independent, a builder, someone who didn’t need his hand held. I thought she admired me. I thought her family might too, eventually. I was wrong. I think they tolerated me at best. Or maybe Daniella was just really good at pretending they did. 1 The first time I met her family was at her dad’s 60th birthday. It was a massive affair—black tie, rooftop venue overlooking the city, string quartet playing something I couldn’t pronounce. Daniella told me not to wear a tie, that her family was “super chill” about that stuff. When I showed up in a navy jacket and open-collar shirt, her mother gave me a once-over and said, “Oh. Bold choice.” That should have been my first clue. The little jabs continued for months. Her older brother, Chase, once asked if I’d parked my “Uber” out front or if I’d taken the night off. Her sister, Brielle, corrected the way I pronounced charcuterie like I’d insulted her ancestors. Daniella always laughed it off. “That’s just how they are,” she’d say. “Don’t take it personally.” So I didn’t. At least, not for a while. I tried to brush it off, smile politely, offer a bottle of wine I’d spent way too long choosing, and act like I didn’t see the way her dad’s eyes glazed over anytime I mentioned my company. They were the type of people who asked what school you went to not because they cared, but because they wanted to rank you. And since I didn’t go Ivy, I didn’t rank. I started noticing Daniella slowly picking up some of those habits, too. Correcting me at dinners, telling me my shoes were “too brown” for that suit, or that my tone on the phone sounded “a little aggressive” when I was dealing with clients. Once, she asked if I could “maybe downplay the whole entrepreneur thing” around her cousins because they were really into “traditional careers.” I remember standing in her kitchen, frozen, staring at her like she’d slapped me. I didn’t say anything at the time. I just nodded and said, “Sure.” Looking back now, I wish I had spoken up sooner. But love does weird things to your sense of self-worth. I think it all really started to shift last Thanksgiving. Her family invited me to join them at their estate. Yes, estate. In Connecticut. It was a whole production. Horse stables, a winter wine tasting, a fireplace in every room, and a long list of passive-aggressive digs delivered over cranberry sauce. I brought a limited-run wine from a vineyard my company had a contract with—something truly rare—and her mom looked at it and said, “Oh. Red. That’s bold for turkey.” Chase offered me a “man’s apron” for the turkey carving contest and laughed like he was hosting a roast. Her dad didn’t even acknowledge me when I shared that we’d just signed our biggest contract yet. He just asked if I’d thought about getting an MBA to “fill in the gaps.” Still, I stayed. Because Daniella would squeeze my hand under the table or give me that look like, Just survive this weekend, and we’ll be home soon. I told myself I could endure the snide comments, the carefully veiled insults, the quiet condescension. I told myself it was just a test, that maybe someday I’d be part of the circle. And a tiny, insecure part of me—one I thought I’d buried years ago—wanted that. Wanted to be accepted. Respected. Wanted to belong. But something started brewing in me after that weekend. A slow, creeping sense of shame I couldn’t place. Like I was slowly turning into a version of myself that would smile through disrespect just to keep the peace. That version made me sick. Then came the birthday dinner. It was supposed to be a celebration. My birthday was technically the next day, but Daniella said her family wanted to treat us to an early dinner at this ultra-exclusive restaurant in the city, one I knew had a months-long waitlist. I was surprised, even flattered. I showed up in my best suit. Even brought a small gift for her mother—a rare tea set I found from a little boutique in Tokyo Daniella had mentioned her mom collected. We were seated at the head table, right in the center of the room. Waiters in white gloves. Candlelight glinting off gold-rimmed glasses. The works. The whole family was there. Her parents, siblings, their partners, even a couple of cousins I barely knew. I remember thinking, Maybe this is it. Maybe they’re finally trying. The dinner started out fine. A little too formal, but manageable. Then the wine started flowing. And with it, the comments. “So, Oscar,” Chase leaned in with a smirk, “how’s business? Still hauling boxes?” “Chase,” Daniella said, laughing nervously. “He doesn’t haul anything. He runs the company.” “Right, right. Logistics. Very glamorous.” Then her mom chimed in, asking if I’d ever considered going back to school to “polish up the resume.” Her dad asked if I wanted him to connect me with someone in his firm, “just in case the startup thing didn’t pan out.” Every laugh at the table felt sharper than the last. Daniella wasn’t defending me this time. She was quiet. Distant. Staring at her wine like she was waiting for something. Then she cleared her throat, put down her glass, and said, “Actually… I’ve been meaning to say something.” The whole table fell silent. Even the waiter paused mid-pour. My stomach tightened. “I think it’s time we went our separate ways,” she said. Just like that. “This… us… it’s not working anymore. I think we both know it.” I felt the air get sucked out of the room. My ears rang. For a moment, I thought I’d misheard. Before I could speak, her brother laughed. “Man, you’re really nothing without us, huh?” Her mom added, “Be grateful we even let you sit at our table, dear.” And just like that, the dam broke. I felt everything—shock, betrayal, rage—crashing down all at once. But I didn’t argue. I didn’t yell. I didn’t ask why, or beg, or plead, or try to save face. I just checked the time. And seconds later, like clockwork, a fleet of black SUVs pulled up outside the restaurant. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the whole family watched in stunned silence as the drivers in suits stepped out—coordinated, calm, like something out of a movie. A moment later, a waiter returned with a small bow and said, “Sir, your security detail has arrived.”

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I was driving out of Harbor City for our long-planned Fourth of July trip when my wife suddenly pulled over and forced me out of the car. “The dog got loose and bit the neighbor across the way,” Seraphina said, her face tight with forced calm. “I have to go handle it.” Before I could even speak—before I could ask what dog, or what neighbor—she hit the gas and left me stranded on the shoulder of the interstate. I’d just finished calling the State Police for help when my phone pinged with a notification: a bank transfer. Withdrawal Alert: Rabies Vaccine Fee: $1,500,000. I instantly called Seraphina. “Have you completely lost your mind?” I yelled into the phone, the sound of passing semis drowning out my own voice. But she sounded frantic, not crazy. She claimed the neighbor was critically injured and would sue us unless we paid the absurd compensation immediately. It was ridiculous. The entire complex belonged to my family. There were no “neighbors” across the way; the entire exclusive tower was reserved for my immediate family. I hung up, dialed 911, and reported illegal trespass and suspected danger at my primary residence. While waiting for the State Trooper to pick me up, I sent a text to my assistant: Fire Seraphina Maxwell immediately. Then, have my attorney draw up divorce papers. I want her to walk away with nothing. 1 My fury was a physical weight, a hot, toxic energy that kept me vibrating the entire drive back. The Olympus Estates, the most luxurious high-rise in the city, had been my parents’ gift to me for my thirty-fifth birthday. To avoid any hassle or intrusion, the entire building was designated for my private use. So who was the ghost Seraphina was paying a million and a half dollars for a vaccine? The patrol car finally dropped me near the security gate of The Olympus, but the armed guard stopped me cold. “Hold it right there. This area is restricted. Ms. Sera Maxwell of Pinnacle Properties is hosting a major birthday party inside.” He puffed out his chest. “Everyone here is high-level—the city’s elite. Unless you’re her husband, you’re not getting in.” My blood boiled over. I shoved my pass toward him. “The entire building belongs to me! Let me through!” He didn’t even glance at the card, smirking instead. “The whole building is yours? Look at you. You look like you slept in your car. Trying to run a scam?” He laughed, a cruel, short sound. “Everyone knows the complex belongs to Ms. Maxwell. Don’t tell me you’re claiming to be her husband.” I was shaking with rage. What exactly had Seraphina been doing? “I am Seraphina Maxwell’s husband! Who else would I be? Let me in now!” The guard threw his head back and guffawed. He looked at me like I was a genuine idiot. “I know Ms. Maxwell’s husband when I see him. He’s inside celebrating his birthday right now! You should check your facts before trying to pull this kind of stunt.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. “Ms. Maxwell’s husband is Rex Sullivan. He wears nothing but designer brands, and he tips us security guys with hundred-dollar bills and premium Cuban cigars.” “You look like you shop at a thrift store. You think you’re Mr. Sullivan?” He picked up his stun baton, gesturing me away. I felt the buzzing of electricity even before the baton was close. Rex Sullivan. The name hit me like a physical blow. I remembered him clearly: a notorious high school bully who, years ago, had been arrested and jailed after pushing a classmate to a suicide attempt. How was he Seraphina’s husband? And how had he moved into my private estate? When the electric current was dangerously close, I reacted. I kicked the guard’s feet out from under him, snatching the baton as he fell. “You should’ve kept your hands off me!” I forced the security team to back up, the stolen baton held high, and burst through the gate toward the penthouse tower. “Noah, tell Deputy Director Shaw thank you again! That Wellington University acceptance letter is yours! And be sure to thank Principal Harrington—he’s the head of Wellington. If you ever need anything, go straight to him!” I heard Seraphina’s bright, ringing voice before I even reached the main floor. When I got inside, she was standing next to Rex Sullivan, her arm linked tightly through his. Next to them stood a tall, grinning teenager—Noah—who was shaking hands with a man holding a cocktail. My appearance sucked all the air out of the room. The music stopped. Every single pair of eyes in the glittering ballroom turned to me. I swept my gaze across the faces: the Deputy Director of the State Board of Education, the Principal of Wellington University, the manager of The Olympus Estates… These people normally needed my father’s permission just to breathe. Now they were all gathered, enjoying Seraphina’s hospitality, apparently allied with her. And then I saw Rex again. The sight of him, dressed in expensive Italian silk, but still carrying the unmistakable menace of a thug, made my stomach clench. “Seraphina,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “What the hell is this gathering in my house?” She paled immediately and rushed to grab my arm, trying to pull me aside. “What are you doing here? I’m in the middle of groveling for forgiveness! Get out, now!” She hissed the last word. “And by the way, the money wasn’t enough. I’ve already promised his son the early admission scholarship to Wellington.” A roar started in my ears, drowning out her voice. I flashed back to their earlier conversation. Wellington was the most prestigious university in Harbor City. The scholarship—the one my son, Finn, had worked himself half to death to secure—was the top academic honor in the state. And she’d just handed it away? Before I could tear into her, the teenager spoke up, pointing at me. “Mom, who is this man? He just barged in. So rude.” Seraphina’s face shifted, her expression turning hard and fixed, a desperate resolve in her eyes. “He’s a lunatic, Rex! Get him out of here, now! If he doesn’t leave, call security to beat him out!” I stared at her, genuinely shocked. It was as if I was meeting her for the very first time. “Seraphina, what are you saying? I am your husband!” She glared at me, her eyes vicious. “Stop spreading lies! Rex is my husband! I told you to get lost! How long are you going to keep harassing us?” My entire body was shaking. I could barely stand. “Seraphina, has a donkey kicked you in the head?” The guests around us started whispering. “Is this guy for real? Can’t he see this is Ms. Maxwell’s husband’s birthday party?” Rex let out a contemptuous snort and looked down at me from his superior height. “Trash is trash. Trying to hit on my wife in front of me.” Just then, the security guard I’d kicked, along with a team of backup bodyguards, rushed in. “I apologize, Ms. Maxwell, esteemed guests! He forced his way in, but we have him now! I’ll tie him up and haul him to the police station immediately!” He waved his hand, and the bodyguards closed in. I backed up two steps, my jaw tight. I focused my fury on Seraphina. “You need to explain yourself, Seraphina. Right now. Or you and I are done.” She frowned. “Noah is from a single-parent home, and I was just trying to entertain these leaders for him. What is your problem?” She suddenly changed her tone, her voice turning into a bark. “Get out! Don’t push me to do something you’ll regret!” Rex took a step toward me, a sneer of challenge on his face. “Seraphina, The Olympus is a high-class reserve. We can’t let him just barge in and cause a scene like this. We can’t let him off easy.” He addressed his security. “What are you waiting for? Beat him! Show him what happens when you trespass! The Principal and the Director are watching—we can’t let them think we’re lax on security!” The bodyguards raised their batons and moved toward me. I narrowed my eyes at Seraphina, shouting, “Think clearly, Seraphina! Tell them to stop!” She hesitated for a brief second, lifting her hand as if to call them off. That’s when Noah tugged on her sleeve, his voice a whine. “Mommy… that man is scary. If we let him go, what if he comes to my school and hits me?” Seraphina looked down at the boy with a sickeningly tender gaze, her voice dripping with affection. “My darling, Mommy will always protect you.” She looked up at the bodyguards, her voice chillingly cold. “Forget the slaps. Break his arms and legs. Make sure he can never hurt my son again. My beloved son!” I stared at her, heart sinking with a terrible finality. I fixed her with a hard, flat gaze. “I am your husband. Try and touch a single hair on my head.” “You not only gave my son’s scholarship to this bastard, but you’re ordering men to beat me for him? I suggest you wake up, Seraphina.” Noah immediately exploded, screaming, “That’s a lie! The scholarship was mine! I don’t need your stupid son’s leftovers!” Principal Harrington watched me with a patronizing smirk. “Sir, slander is a serious offense. Noah is the City Valedictorian. His acceptance to Wellington is absolutely legitimate. Your fool of a son would be lucky to get into community college.” The surrounding guests joined in the mockery. My eyes burned as I focused on Principal Harrington. “You’re lying! My son, Finn, is the City Valedictorian!” That honor was the result of years of tireless work, a sacrifice on both our parts! The Principal looked at me with open contempt and flashed his phone screen in my face. “The Honor Roll is public. Look closely. Noah Sullivan is listed first. You’re delusional if you think otherwise. Wellington is not for every stray dog off the street.” I roared, “Shut up! My son’s name was on that list!” But even as I screamed, the screen showed Noah Sullivan at the top, with a score that matched my son’s perfectly. Finn’s name was nowhere to be found. Seraphina wouldn’t meet my eyes. Principal Harrington’s expression shifted, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He lowered his voice, the offer dripping with venom. “I can, however, give you a chance. Just get on your knees and knock your head on the floor one hundred times. I might consider having a conversation with you.” “You don’t need to keep acting hysterical. Just kneel down and—” The rage became a blinding, white-hot fire. I snatched the stun baton from the nearest bodyguard and thrust it toward the vile man’s chest. “Say one more word, and I’ll electrocute you where you stand!” Seraphina stared at me, her eyes promising a thousand cuts. “Leo Maxwell, where do you get the nerve to threaten Principal Harrington? Security! Bodyguards! Are you useless? Hold him down, now!” Suddenly, a group of men swarmed me, wrestling me to the marble floor in three violent motions. Seraphina immediately turned to the Principal, plastering a fake, appeasing smile back on her face. “Please don’t be angry, Principal. He’s completely unhinged. I’ll have him thrown out immediately.” The Principal was still shaken and furious at being shown up. His face was distorted with malice. “Ms. Maxwell, I can forgive the embarrassment, but to let a man who threatens me go free? That’s not good form.” “Order your men to strip him naked, and make him crawl around the perimeter of the building, barking like a dog. Until I say stop.” He paused, his smile sickening. “Otherwise, Noah’s enrollment may become… complicated.” Seraphina wavered for a split second, then her voice came out like a shard of ice. “What are you waiting for? Strip Leo bare! All of it!” The bodyguards immediately went to work. Within seconds, I was down to my underwear. Principal Harrington lifted his foot and pressed it down hard on my fingers, grinding them into the floor. He leaned in, his eyes narrowed. “I understand you’re upset. Just comply, and we can discuss the scholarship…” Ignoring the searing pain, I screamed at Seraphina. “Seraphina! I am your husband! Tell them to stop, right now! Or—” My vision tunneled. A sharp, paralyzing jolt went through my chest. My face went chalk white. My heart condition. My heart was giving out. “Let go of me!” I wrenched myself free from the bodyguards and scrambled toward the pile of my clothes, searching for my heart medication. I fumbled to twist the cap off the bottle. I needed the pills. Right now. If I didn’t take them, I could die. But Noah, seeing his opportunity, grabbed his own chest. His eyes wide, his face a mask of pain. “Mommy, my chest! It hurts so much!” Rex instantly understood the play. He looked at Seraphina, his voice anxious. “Sera, Noah’s heart condition! I forgot his medication…” Seraphina glanced at Noah, then at my shaking, sweat-soaked body. She hesitated. I couldn’t delay any longer. I finally twisted the cap and started to pour the pills into my mouth. That’s when Seraphina made her choice. Her voice was harsh and decisive. “Snatch the medicine! My son, Noah, needs those pills more!” I clutched the bottle to my chest, crawling backward. “Don’t come near me! If you try to take them, I’ll crush them all! No one gets them!” I guarded the pills, my eyes darting nervously between the approaching security guards. Seraphina’s voice suddenly softened, a desperate plea. “Leo, don’t do anything stupid! I was just kidding! Your safety is the most important thing—” I believed her. I relaxed my guard for one fatal second. A wine bottle exploded over my head. The world went dark and fuzzy. Seraphina had struck me with brutal force. I slumped to the floor, dazed, but the bodyguards pounced, seizing control of my arms and legs. The pills were wrenched from my tight grasp. “Give them back…” I gasped, struggling to calm my breathing and steady the runaway heart rhythm. Seraphina didn’t even look at me. “Noah is a child! He needs them more! You’re an adult—you can take a little pain! You won’t die if you wait a bit!” The light went out of my eyes. The cold settled in my soul. Rex looked at me, his eyes full of triumph. While Seraphina was fussing over Noah, he squatted down in front of me, grabbing a fistful of my hair and forcing me to look up at his cruel face. “A heart attack won’t kill you right away. It’s just going to hurt for a while.” He smirked. “You haven’t even barked for us yet. We can’t let you die now.” I lunged, my teeth closing hard on his forearm until I tasted blood. “You damned animal! You’re asking for it!” Rex struggled, prying my jaws apart. He looked at the teeth marks, blood oozing through his shirt, and his face turned monstrous. “Tear his mouth open! I want to see if he dares to bite again!” I clamped my lips shut, refusing to give them the chance. Enraged, Rex grabbed a pitcher of hot water and poured the contents directly onto my bare skin. Blistering heat. Excruciating pain. I screamed, thrashing, the bodyguards barely able to hold me down. Seeing me about to break free, Rex seized the guard’s stun baton, flicked the switch, and jammed the pulsating tip toward my chest. My heart seized up again. If he electrocuted me now, I would die. I lay on the floor like a landed fish, screaming. Just as the baton was about to make contact, the ballroom doors burst open, and a squad of large, uniformed men flooded the room. “Hold your fire! We are The Maxwell Group security detail! We’re here to protect the Owner!” Rex froze, then smiled in relief. “Sera, you called them? Perfect! Have them assist us immediately! I want to tear this bastard’s mouth open and break his arms and legs!” Seraphina looked flustered, but she quickly recovered and gave the order. “Don’t just stand there! Help my husband! Hold that trash down and get revenge for him!” The new security detail hesitated, taking a step toward me. I lifted my head, my eyes locking onto the leader. “Captain Miller, do you dare touch a single finger on me?” Captain Miller stopped dead in his tracks, his face registering total shock. “Young Master Leo, who did this to you? Who dared?”

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My first day of college, my dad dropped me off at the dorms in his Lamborghini. When my new roommate found out my dad was the CEO of Sterling Corp, her whole demeanor changed. “CEO Sterling is so busy, yet he drove you personally? Where’s your mom?” “Just as I thought, a home without a woman is chaos… Give me two days to learn the ropes, and I’ll take great care of both you and your father!” I thought she was just being weird and brushed it off with a “Good luck with that.” But she actually started staying up all night watching videos on “How to Be a Billionaire’s Wife.” “Why are you wearing a mini skirt? That’s not very ladylike!” She even started introducing herself as my “stepmom” to everyone! “See her bag? Her dad and I picked it out for her.” “But, well, he bought me a huge diamond ring too. I guess he spoils me a little more.” Until the university’s centennial gala, where she showed up in a ballgown and sat straight in the seat reserved for “Mrs. Sterling.” 1 My first day of college, my dad personally drove me to the dorms in his sports car. As soon as we walked in, we bumped into my roommate, Tiffany. She asked excitedly: “Did you guys see that sports car downstairs? I looked it up, it’s worth like six million dollars!” I walked over to my bed leisurely and turned to ask my dad: “Dad, didn’t you say you bought it for six hundred thousand?” Dad smiled awkwardly and didn’t reply. Just then, his bodyguard walked in. “Mr. Sterling, the board meeting is starting soon.” Tiffany’s eyes lit up instantly. She rushed over to me. “Your dad is CEO Sterling? He’s so handsome! How did he have time to drop you off? Where’s your mom?” Before I could answer, she pulled out her phone and ran up to my dad. “Hi, I’m Tiffany! You can add me on WeChat. If Chloe needs anything, you can just ask me!” Dad froze. Although he looked reluctant, he didn’t want to embarrass a young girl. He added her WeChat. “Chloe, I’m heading back to the office. Let me know if you need anything.” Before I could answer, Tiffany jumped in again. “Okay! I’ll let you know if Chloe needs anything. Don’t worry about work.” “Remember to eat, don’t go hungry, okay?” She giggled shyly and waved. Dad coughed awkwardly and left immediately. While unpacking, I thought to myself: Are college students this abstract nowadays? The next second, Tiffany knocked my suitcase over. “As a junior, where’s my greeting gift?” I stared at her in shock, unsure if she was serious or joking. Seeing I didn’t move, she suddenly slapped my arm, hands on her hips, glaring at me. “Is that how you look at your elders? No manners at all!” “I’ll have to discipline you properly for your father! Or don’t even think about entering the family home!” She was serious. I stood up and shoved her to the ground, yelling: “They let psychos into college now? Go get treated!” Hearing the commotion, people from other dorms gathered around. Tiffany sat on the floor, sobbing. “I know you don’t like me! But I’m trying so hard to be a good stepmom…” The crowd gasped, eyes wide with shock. I was furious, looking at her in disbelief. “My dad doesn’t even know you! Are you delusional from wanting to marry rich?” Tiffany stood up, showed her phone screen to everyone. “See for yourselves! Does he know me or not!” “She just thinks I stole her father’s love, that’s why she targets me!” People started nodding, looking at me with disdain. Confused, I snatched her phone. She had changed my dad’s contact name to: [Hubby] 2 I laughed out of pure anger, about to retort. The RA suddenly appeared to disperse the crowd. “What’s the noise? Keep it down or I’ll write you all up!” The crowd scattered. I sighed and went back into the room with Tiffany. Suddenly, she ran up to me, crying hysterically. “I’m sorry, Chloe! I had a bad attitude just now.” “My family was really poor growing up, and I was always bullied. The way you looked at me reminded me of those bullies…” “I lost control and hit you. If you’re still mad, hit me back!” She started slapping herself hard, leaving red marks on her face. I grabbed her hands immediately, my heart softening. Although Tiffany was definitely weird, hearing her story, it probably stemmed from growing up in a repressive environment. I didn’t want to hold a grudge. “Forget it, I’m not mad.” “But you absolutely cannot call my dad your hubby! That’s ridiculous!” Tiffany wiped her tears, sniffing. “My grandma taught me, when you go to a new place, get close to the best person so you won’t be bullied.” “I thought if I was connected to CEO Sterling, no one would dare bully me…” “I’m sorry…” I frowned. What kind of logic was that? But her situation seemed pitiful, and I didn’t know how to argue. “Still, you can’t do that… Anyway, stop crying. Pack up and rest.” Tiffany voluntarily made my bed, folded my clothes, and organized all my toiletries. Having been spoiled at home, I was actually clueless about these chores. I was grateful for her help. “Thanks. I’ll treat you to lunch tomorrow.” Tiffany smiled sweetly and pulled a bag of buns from her luggage. “My grandma made these. They’re delicious. Have one.” I was hungry after cleaning, so I took one and started eating. “Your grandma’s buns are great! She could sell these!” I thought, Tiffany isn’t a bad person, maybe just has some inferiority complex. She’ll get better in college. Suddenly, she opened her camera to take a selfie with me. “I want to send it to Grandma! My first friend in college!” “She’s pretty and loves the buns!” “Grandma will be so happy!” I played along, chewing on the bun and throwing up a peace sign. Tiffany fiddled with her phone, a happy smile on her face. “Add me on WeChat, I’ll send you the photo.” Seeing her expression, I remembered I hadn’t told Dad I was settled in. The next second, Dad messaged me. [Made a new friend so fast? Good job, daughter!] He attached a screenshot. I opened it. It was a chat between Tiffany and Dad. Tiffany sent photos of my neatly made bed, organized closet, and toiletries. And our selfie. [Chloe is doing great! Eating well and living well!] Dad replied with two thumbs-up emojis. I was thinking Tiffany was quite helpful, updating my dad for me. Then I refreshed my Moments (social media feed) and saw Tiffany’s post. [I’ll work harder to learn how to be a good stepmom! Don’t worry, Hubby! Daughter is doing well at school~] The photo was the chat screenshot with my dad. 3 I exploded instantly, confronting Tiffany with my phone. “What are you posting?! Delete it now!” Tiffany jumped, looking wronged. “I’m sorry! I just wanted to reassure Grandma!” “If you don’t like it, I’ll delete it now!” She tapped on her phone. I refreshed, and indeed, it was gone. I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Tiffany definitely had issues. But I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Don’t post stuff like that again. This is my last warning.” I went to shower and sleep. Next morning, Tiffany was back to her gentle, attentive self. She even squeezed toothpaste onto my toothbrush. “Wake up! Class registration today!” Her sudden enthusiasm made me uncomfortable, but I couldn’t say anything. While looking for clothes, I couldn’t find my new white skirt. “Tiffany, did you see my white skirt when you folded clothes yesterday?” She paused. “Oh! That was a skirt? It was so short! I thought it was a rag and threw it away.” “You’re a girl, how can you wear mini skirts? How will you get married if men see you like that?” I realized then that not just the skirt, all my shorts were gone too! Suppressing my rage, I didn’t want to fight. I threw on a shirt and went to class. Seeing my limited edition bag, female classmates gathered around. “Chloe, your bag is gorgeous! Is it the new release?” I smiled and nodded, about to reply. Tiffany cut in, blocking me, smiling coyly like an elder. “Nice, right? Her dad and I picked it out for her in Europe!” “But he bought me a huge diamond ring too. I guess he spoils me a little more.” The girls looked at each other, too scared to reply. Now I saw it clearly. Tiffany was genuinely mental! I shouldn’t have pitied her! “My dad bought the bag, yes, but it has nothing to do with her.” “My dad doesn’t even know her. Don’t listen to her.” I explained anxiously. Tiffany blinked at everyone calmly. “The kid doesn’t want you to know my identity. Saving face, you know how it is~” “Alright, alright, Chloe, whatever you say. Let’s go to the cafeteria.” Seeing the classmates’ complicated expressions, I knew exploding now would only make me look worse. I held back my anger, deciding to settle accounts back at the dorm. In the cafeteria, Tiffany dumped all the greens from her bowl into mine. In front of everyone, she said: “Your dad said you’re a picky eater. I’ll supervise your diet from now on.” I finally snapped, flipping my tray and pointing at her, screaming: “Are you sick?! Once or twice is enough! Are you addicted to acting? Think you’re my mom?” “My dad doesn’t know you! Next time, I’m calling the police to drag you to the psych ward!” Everyone in the cafeteria stared. Tiffany was too scared to breathe. After a long while, she recovered, sobbing. “I know you don’t like me, but your dad and I are truly in love…” “Sorry, I’ll leave.” She ran out crying. Classmates started whispering. I opened my phone to call Dad, but a notification from the campus confession wall popped up. [Whose super cool sports car was downstairs at the girls’ dorm yesterday?] Attached was a photo of my dad’s Lamborghini. The top comment was Tiffany. [My hubby’s. He bought it for forty million but lied and said four million. Found his secret stash, so I punished him with no dinner!] 4 I shook with rage reading the comment. What a lunatic! Tomorrow was the centennial celebration. Dad was invited as a guest speaker. I’d make him clarify everything personally! Slap Tiffany in the face so hard she’d give up! Too angry to eat, I went back to the dorm to call Dad. Before I could dial, he video called me. “Chloe, are you fighting with a classmate?” I was confused. Did my cafeteria outburst reach him already? “How do you know?” Dad looked awkward, panning the camera. In the video, Tiffany was strutting around Dad’s office! Ordering employees around! Acting like the boss’s wife! “Tiffany? She’s sick! Dad, ignore her!” “She told everyone you’re her husband! That she’s my stepmom! The whole school knows!” “You have to clarify this at the celebration tomorrow! Or how can I stay here for four years!” I was so anxious I stuttered, wanting to reach through the screen and slap her. Dad looked shocked. “My god, what’s wrong with young people these days?” “I’ll have someone send her back. I’ll clarify everything at your school tomorrow.” After hanging up, I was restless, planning how to lecture Tiffany when she returned. Then I heard girls passing by the dorm whispering. “This is the room. Daughter and stepmom living together! Scary.” “Damn, rich families are complicated.” I rushed out. “Who said she’s my stepmom! She’s lying!” A girl shook off my hand, holding up her phone. “Your family is so hypocritical! Your dad likes young girls, but you won’t admit her status!” I looked closer. It was Tiffany’s Moments. The latest post was a selfie in Dad’s office, and a video of her ordering staff around. [Checking on hubby’s empire. Letting the staff recognize the Lady Boss!] The previous post was a creepshot of me sleeping last night. [Daughter is tired from a long day. Out like a light.] Before that, the chat with my dad! [With me here, daughter is safe at school~] She never deleted them. She just blocked me from seeing them! I ground my teeth in fury. How can such a psycho exist! I couldn’t wait for tomorrow. I was going to tear her apart the moment she walked in! Even if I got expelled! But she didn’t come back all night. Probably afraid. The next day at the celebration, all the city’s elites were there, including my dad. Dad wore a custom suit, tall and fit, looking thirty despite being forty-something. “Our seats are in the front row. I requested a family seat.” I nodded and followed him. The next second, I almost fainted. Tiffany, in a ballgown, was sitting right in the seat labeled “Mrs. Sterling,” in front of everyone.

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I gave my students a choice for their homework: Build a nuclear bomb. Find the teacher a tall, rich, and handsome boyfriend. Complete the physics worksheet. The next day, one student handed in a blank worksheet. I called her to my office to interrogate her: “Why didn’t you do the homework?” She dragged a handsome guy in from the hallway. “Ms. Parker, here’s the tall, rich, and handsome guy you wanted.” I nearly fainted. 1 After graduating with my teaching degree, I returned to my high school alma mater as a physics teacher. As soon as I got my teaching license, my best friend ruthlessly roasted me: “Sarah Parker, with someone like you as a teacher, I fear for the future of those students.” She was right. I’m chronically online, love memes, play video games with my students, and even led the whole class in a TikTok dance during the sports meet… So, my students never call me “Ms. Parker,” they call me “Sister Sarah,” and I’ve been unanimously voted “Most Unprofessional Physics Teacher at A-High.” Today, while slacking off in the office, I saw a trending topic—#CraziestOnlineClassAssignments. The vibe was like this: “Physics homework, choose one: Build an atomic bomb. Take a photo holding hands with Einstein or Newton. Build a perpetual motion machine. Complete pages 40-43 in the workbook.” “Math: Prove Goldbach’s conjecture or finish one worksheet.” “English: Take a photo with the President in front of the White House or translate this passage.” … Such a good meme, how could I not participate? So, when assigning homework in the class group chat, I posted an announcement: “Please choose one of the following to complete: Build a nuclear bomb. Find Ms. Parker a tall, rich, and handsome boyfriend. Complete the physics worksheet.” Here’s the thing: my parents have been relentless about me getting married lately. I was losing my mind, hence the second option. Who wouldn’t go crazy under that kind of pressure? Minutes after posting, the red dot on the chat icon turned into “99+”. “LMAO.” “Sister Sarah keeping up with the trends.” “If I win a Nobel Prize, can I get extra credit on the final?” Then, the vibe shifted. “Wait, Sister Sarah is still single?” “I heard she’s never dated anyone.” “Sister Sarah, I can introduce you to my second cousin’s neighbor’s nephew.” … My face darkened. I forcibly deleted the “never dated anyone” message and muted the chat. Why do they have to be so honest? I don’t want to hear it. 2 The next day, out of 47 students, I collected 46 worksheets. After class, the class rep and I checked the list and found the lone defaulter: Lily Lin. She’s usually a good kid. Why the sudden rebellion? I called her to the office. “Where’s the worksheet from yesterday? Let me see it.” She looked calm, pulled out a paper, and handed it to me. Tsk, cleaner than my face after a facial. What is wrong with this kid? I rubbed my temples: “Why didn’t you do the homework?” She grinned: “Ms. Parker, I did the homework.” Then she dragged a guy in a baseball cap from the hallway and pushed him in front of me. “This is my brother. Ms. Parker, here’s the tall, rich, and handsome guy you wanted.” ? The other teachers in the office put down their lesson plans and turned to watch. The handsome guy lifted his cap and smiled: “Sarah Parker, long time no see.” I stared at him for a moment. I recognized him. It was my high school crush—Lucas Lin. I paused: “Lu… Lucas?” Lucas nodded slightly. I turned back to my student: “He’s your brother?” Lily nodded too. Oh god, oh god… I played the meme too hard and it backfired. My colleagues were all watching the drama, some even covering their mouths and giggling. My reputation is ruined! I felt dizzy, the room spun, and I collapsed. 3 Dead memories suddenly attacked me. In high school, my math was atrocious. I counted on my fingers for double-digit addition. Definitions, geometry, equations—all Greek to me. But Lucas, who sat behind me, consistently scored 145+ out of 150 on math exams. Sigh, the gap between humans. Taking advantage of proximity, I turned around to ask him whenever I was stuck. He was nice too. To make sure I understood, he’d explain a problem four or five times without getting annoyed! We were close when he explained things. And he was handsome. Devastatingly handsome. Refined features, sharp jawline. Every time I turned around, I couldn’t help but sneak a peek. My heart fluttered like a trapped bird—who wouldn’t like a hot guy patiently explaining calculus? I was crushing hard. I whined to my best friend every day. Eventually, her ears calloused over, and she urged me to shoot my shot. “Go big or go home!” Let’s do it! That day, I bought nice paper and an envelope to write a confession letter. First time writing a love letter. I wanted it to be classy. I deliberated over every word. Seven days later, I squeezed out six words: “Dear Lucas Lin…” That was it. As a science student, my literary skills were tragic. So I bribed my liberal arts major best friend with five bucks to write it for me. She waved her pen, swish swish swish, and ten minutes later—slap—she slammed the paper in front of me. I picked it up. Tsk, so cheesy. Phrases like “My secret love for you is a silent wind moving the grass,” “I miss you occasionally, but often occasionally…” I got goosebumps. My face twisted in cringe. She rolled her eyes: “Take it or leave it!” I smiled like a sycophant, “I’ll take it, I’ll take it…” But the letter stayed in my hand for half a month. I couldn’t send it. Besides being a coward, there was another reason. Rumors about Lucas and the school beauty, Misty, were flying everywhere. Everyone knew. And me? No makeup, braces, face full of acne. Competing with the school beauty was like hitting a rock with an egg. My best friend rolled her eyes again and moved to snatch the letter back: “If you’re scared, don’t do it.” The provocation worked: “No, no! Let me try one more time! I can do it!” I swore, holding up three fingers. “If I don’t give it to him today, I’ll eat it!” After school, Lucas and the boys finished basketball and were walking back, laughing. I hid behind a wall, eavesdropping. The boys were gossiping about Lucas and Misty again. They got closer. I clutched the letter, palms sweating. Counting down in my head: 3, 2, 1. Just as I was about to jump out, Lucas’s voice rang out: “I’m not interested in girls.” … I stuffed the letter in my mouth and ate it with tears in my eyes. After discovering Lucas’s secret, I ignored him for the rest of senior year. I wished I could move my desk 800 meters away. Even if he talked to me, I just mumbled “Mmhmm” and brushed him off. I finally understood why he rejected every girl’s gift. The dude wasn’t interested in girls!!! 4 I looked at this familiar face, rolled my eyes back, and slumped into the chair. The room erupted into chaos. Someone pinched my philtrum, someone fanned me, someone poured water… “Ms. Parker? Sarah? Are you okay?” I looked at the concerned faces, pale and weak: “I’m fine…” Lucas must be here to discuss his sister’s grades. Definitely not to cause trouble. Must be! I drank some water, calmed down, and pulled Lucas outside: “Lucas, what are you doing here?” I clung to my last hope: “Are you here to talk about Lily’s studies?” The next second, my hope was ruthlessly shattered. “No. “I heard a certain single-since-birth physics teacher was getting desperate from family pressure and publicly recruiting a boyfriend,” he crossed his arms and smirked, “I came specifically to watch the show.” His “single-since-birth” comment stabbed my heart. I almost coughed blood. How could such cold words come from his 98.6-degree mouth!! High school? No dating for obvious reasons. College? Four years focused on my career, studying, getting certified, tutoring. No time for love. Now? Work, parental pressure, blind dates. And the blind dates were unreliable. Last month, a distant aunt introduced a “mature, steady man.” Yeah, mature. He was over 40. A neighbor introduced a “quality man.” House, car, savings. But… divorced with a kid. I have no interest in being a stepmom. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous! I laughed dryly, expressionless. “Yeah, my parents see everyone else’s kids getting married, and I haven’t even found a boyfriend. They’re panicking. Nagging every day. It’s annoying.” Lucas paced back and forth, then stopped in front of me and said something shocking. He said he was also being pressured to marry. Why don’t we team up and act? Pretend to be a couple to appease our families. I despised him internally: This guy clearly isn’t into girls but is too afraid to come out, so he drags someone else into his lie. Harmful to others and himself. If I agree to act with him, isn’t that selling my soul? So— I need more money. “Sure,” I agreed readily. “But I need a fee for my acting services.” “For one performance—this much. Okay?” I waved two fingers, meaning 200 bucks. He nodded: “No problem.” Then he tapped on his phone. Next second, Ding— Alipay: Received 10,000 yuan (~$1,400). My balance jumped from two digits to five. !!! I gasped. I work like a donkey every day and only make that much in a month! “What’s wrong?” His eyes were innocent. “Two thousand per act. Five acts upfront. If we need more, I’ll pay more. Is there a problem?” He didn’t even flinch. Oh, right. In the office, Lily said her brother was the tall, rich, and handsome guy I needed. “No, no, no!” I beamed like a flower. “Pleasure doing business with you!” His eyes softened: “Mmh. Pleasure.” 5 WeChat Group “Happy Family”: [CloudBreaker (Dad)] patted me: Daughter, found a boyfriend yet? [BloomingRich (Mom)] (Voice Message): “Your cousin’s engagement party is next Saturday morning. Don’t forget. Aiyah, when will you bring someone home?” [Me]: I found a boyfriend. [CloudBreaker]: Are you painting us another pie (lying) again? I’ve used this line many times. My parents believed it every time, only to be ghosted. So this time, they didn’t believe it. I rubbed my brow and typed furiously: “Really found one. Bringing him home in a couple of days.” To convince them, I stole a few photos from Lucas’s Moments and sent them. After that, I tossed my phone and went to shower. When I came out, I had countless missed calls. I called back. Picked up instantly. My parents bombarded me with excitement, making my head spin. Dad fired the first salvo: “What’s he like? How old? What does he do?” Mom grabbed the phone: “How did you meet?” Dad: “How long have you known him?” Mom: “Do you think he’s the one?” … I had planned this whole charade: First, bring Lucas home, claim he’s my boyfriend, and get some peace and quiet. A few months later, tell them we broke up due to personality differences. Then use “heartbreak” as an excuse to reject blind dates. My abacus was clicking loudly. Ideally, I wouldn’t be bothered about marriage for six months to a year!

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Vivian joined a women’s empowerment book club. Every Tuesday night, like clockwork. I supported it. I championed it. I was the doting husband, right until today, when I found the card tucked into the pocket of her silk blouse while sorting the laundry. It was heavy stock, matte black. On the back, in elegant cursive: “The Gentleman’s Selection. Unbox your fantasy. Your exclusive concierge: Jax.” I scanned the QR code with my phone. It didn’t take me to a reading list. It launched a digital catalogue of men—oiled abs, chiseled jaws, eyes promising trouble. Every single one came with a price tag. And according to the transaction history I hacked into, my wife’s cumulative spending had already hit six figures. I stared at the screen, my face a mask of stone, and snapped a photo. I sent it to Marcus. “Vice squad. I’m sending you an address. My wife is a VIP client. Make sure to leave them a five-star review.” 1 On the other end of the line, Marcus—my partner, my brother in arms—was silent for ten seconds. “Holden, tell me you’re joking.” “Do I sound like I’m joking?” My voice was flat, a dead calm sea. “Your wife… Vivian? The literature professor? How the hell…” “Don’t ask me. I’m still trying to figure out which chapter of The Great Gatsby covers male escorts.” I flipped the black card over. The front bore the gold-embossed logo: The Athena Collective. The irony tasted like copper in my mouth. Marcus took a deep breath on the other end. “I got the address. ‘The Box.’ We’ve been trying to crack that place for months. We could never find a way in.” “You have one now,” I said. “VIP client. Six-figure spend. Is that enough probable cause?” “It’s enough. It’s more than enough.” Marcus’s voice dropped, shifting from cop to friend. “Holden, think this through. Once we kick that door in, you and Vivian… there’s no coming back from that.” I looked down at my phone. The chat logs between Vivian and this ‘Jax’ scrolled by. Intimate. Flirtatious. Transactional. Transfer after transfer. Every notification was a small, precise incision on my heart. We’d been married three years. For her, I had stepped back from the fast track, taking a transfer to a desk job in a sleepy logistics department. I bought the groceries. I cooked the meals. I treated her like royalty. She thought I had lost my edge. She thought I had settled. She didn’t know that my mediocrity was a costume, a necessary cover for a deep-cover investigation into a massive organized crime ring. She used to say she wanted a man with ambition, so I stayed up nights earning certifications I couldn’t tell her about. She wanted romance, so I curated every anniversary like a museum exhibit. She said she needed to elevate herself with this book club, and I pushed her to go. And this was how she elevated herself? “I’ve thought it through,” I said to the empty room. “Call me when you move.” I hung up, wiped the call log, and set the phone back on the counter. Moments later, the front door clicked open. Vivian breezed in, carrying the scent of expensive gin and a musk that wasn’t mine. She saw me sitting on the sofa in the dark, and her brow immediately furrowed. “Why aren’t you in bed? Waiting up like a lonely housewife, really?” Her disdain was a physical thing, sharp and cold. I looked up at her—the flawless makeup, the designer dress I knew cost more than my monthly ‘salary.’ “How was the book club?” I asked. I kept the tremor out of my voice. “It was fine. We discussed Sartre. Not that you’d understand the nuance.” She kicked off her heels, letting them lie where they fell in the foyer. “You’re a clerk, Holden. Your world is spreadsheets and grocery lists. You can’t grasp the spiritual pursuit we’re engaged in.” I looked at her. The woman I had loved for five years. “Is that right? Seems like an expensive hobby, this spiritual pursuit,” I said, testing the water. Vivian’s expression flickered, but her chin went up. “Of course it is. We hire renowned scholars. The venue, the catering—quality costs money. Unlike you, scraping by on that government paycheck. Your world is so small.” She walked over, looming over me. “Holden, let’s be honest. The gap between us is widening. I am evolving. I’m surrounded by the elite. And you? You’re stagnant.” She sighed, a theatrical, pitying sound. “Sometimes, I feel embarrassed just being seen with you.” My hands were resting on my knees. My fingernails were digging into my skin so hard I could feel the crescent moons cutting in. But my face remained blank. I just nodded. “You’re right.” “The gap is huge.” “Don’t worry,” I said softly. “Soon… you won’t have to deal with the embarrassment of seeing me at all.” Vivian paused. The sneer froze on her lips. “What does that mean? Did you finally grow a spine? You want a divorce?” She let out a dry, cold laugh. “Fine by me. If you have the guts. Split the assets, sell this house. I could use the cash for my… investments.” Her investments. Top-tier packages at the meat market. I smiled, a ghost of an expression, and didn’t take the bait. “Get some sleep. You have a class tomorrow, don’t you?” I stood up and walked into the guest room. She had moved me out of the master bedroom six months ago, claiming she needed “personal space” to reflect. In hindsight, that was probably when the “reading” started. I closed the door and leaned my back against the wood. The energy drained out of me, leaving me hollow. I pulled out my phone and opened the dossier I’d compiled from the QR code. Photos of men. Hundreds of them. The Athlete. The Poet. The CEO. Every “Concierge Service” had a price. From a few thousand to numbers that made my stomach turn. Vivian’s history was a ledger of betrayal. Over thirty thousand dollars just on this Jax character. I closed my eyes. The pulse in my temple beat against my skin like a trapped bird. The next morning, I made breakfast. Routine is a powerful anesthetic. Vivian emerged from the master suite, ghosting past me without a glance to start her skincare regimen. I placed the coffee and avocado toast in front of her. “Book club again today?” I asked, casual, skimming the news on my tablet. “Obviously. It’s the weekly intensive.” She snapped, annoyed. “It’s your mother’s birthday today. Aren’t you going to drive up to see her?” Vivian froze. She turned slowly, her eyes narrowing into slits. “Holden, what is this? Are you monitoring me?” “I’m just reminding you.” “I don’t need your reminders!” Her voice went shrill. “I already called Mom. I wired her a gift. She’s far more open-minded than you are. She knows my career comes first. She doesn’t sweat the small stuff.” Her mother’s open-mindedness. Right. The woman who was helping her spend my money. I remembered overhearing a call last week. Her mother’s voice, chirpy and shrill: “Viv, honey, that Jax seems wonderful. So much more charisma than Holden the Bore. lock that down, sweetheart!” At the time, I thought she was talking about a colleague. A rival academic. I didn’t realize she was talking about a rental. “Right. Career first,” I nodded. Vivian finished her makeup and grabbed her bag. At the door, she paused. “I have a networking dinner tonight. High stakes. I won’t be back. Scrounge something up for yourself.” She held out her hand, palm up. Expectant. “Also, I need the household allowance for the month. Cash flow is a little tight.” I looked at her hand. Perfectly manicured nails. I used to love holding that hand. Now, looking at it made bile rise in my throat. I opened my wallet, pulled out two thousand dollars, and placed the bills in her palm. “Make it last,” I said. Vivian snatched the money, a smirk touching her lips. “Understood, Penny Pincher.” She turned and left. The door slammed shut. The silence rushed back in to fill the void she left. I pulled out my phone and texted Marcus. Target is mobile. Tonight’s the night. Marcus replied instantly. Copy that. Holden… watch your six. I looked out the window. The sky was bruising purple, heavy with rain. Late that afternoon, my mother-in-law called. She didn’t say hello. She launched straight into an assault. “Holden! What is wrong with you? It’s my birthday. Vivian is busy, I get that, but where are you? I’ve sent you three texts!” “Do you have no respect for your elders?” I listened to her screech, keeping my voice level. “Mom, something came up at work. Urgent.” “Urgent? You’re a paper pusher! What could possibly be urgent? You just didn’t want to come!” She was winding herself up. “Let me tell you something. Vivian marrying you was charity! You are lucky she even looks at you. No money, no power… if you weren’t so docile, I’d have told her to leave you years ago!” I listened. I didn’t interrupt. I had heard this speech for three years. I used to believe it. I used to think I wasn’t enough. Now I realized that for some people, you are only as valuable as what they can extract from you. “Mom,” I cut in. “Vivian is at an important dinner tonight, right?” She stumbled. “Yes! Yes. For her career. For the family! Unlike you, she has drive.” “I’m not criticizing,” I said calmly. “I just wanted to tell you… I’m at that dinner too.” “You? How? Did Vivian take you?” Her voice dripped with suspicion. “She didn’t take me.” I walked to the window, watching the strobe of red and blue lights silently joining the flow of traffic below. “I brought the guests.” “What… what are you talking about? Holden, speak clearly!” “Mom, you always said I had no power. You always said Vivian was settling.” “Tonight, I’m going to show you exactly who your son-in-law is.” “And I’m going to show you exactly what kind of ‘important dinner’ your daughter is attending.” I hung up. I didn’t want to hear another word. Simultaneously, Marcus called. “Holden, we hit ‘The Box.’ It’s a ghost town. Just a front.” I wasn’t surprised. “I know. They aren’t there,” I said. “Then where?” “South side. The Sanctuary Private Club.” I gave him the coordinates. “How do you know that?” Marcus asked. “Because the owner of The Sanctuary is an old informant of mine. He just sent me the security feed. Vivian, Jax, and a whole party. Illegal gambling, solicitation, drugs. The works.” “Son of a bitch,” Marcus muttered. “We’re en route. Don’t do anything stupid. Wait for backup.” “Count on it.” I hung up and started the engine. The car roared to life, tearing into the night. The Sanctuary. Vivian. Jax. I’m coming. The Sanctuary sat halfway up the mountain, a fortress of glass and steel overlooking the city lights. Security was tight. I rolled down my window at the gate. I didn’t say a word. I just flashed my phone screen. A photo of me and the owner, arm in arm. The guard stiffened, nodded respectfully, and opened the gate. I parked in the shadows. I didn’t go in yet. I sat in the dark cabin of the car and lit a cigarette. The cherry glowed, a single red eye in the gloom. The smoke blurred my reflection in the rearview mirror. Message from Marcus: Perimeter set. Waiting for your signal. I typed back: Wait. I was waiting for a phone call. I was waiting for Vivian. In a moment of triumph like this, high on adrenaline and attention, she wouldn’t be able to resist kicking the dog. She would call to humiliate me, to contrast her glittering life with my mundane existence. Sure enough, five minutes later, the screen lit up. Vivian. I answered, put it on speaker, and hit record. “Hello?” “Holden, you loser, where are you?” Her voice was slurred, thick with expensive wine and cheap cruelty. Background noise: thumping bass, laughter. “Home,” I lied. “Hah! Home. Pathetic. Guarding the fort all alone.” She laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. “Do you know where I am? The Sanctuary. Do you know what this place is? You couldn’t afford a coaster in here with a lifetime of your salary.” “I’m surrounded by the elite, Holden. Winners. Not like you.” She paused, muffling the phone to ask someone, “You’re sure he didn’t follow me?” Then back to me. “Oh, by the way. Jax is here.” She passed the phone. A man’s voice, smooth and oily, slid through the speaker. “Hello, Mr. Ford?” Jax. “Hi, Jax here. Thanks for taking such… mediocre care of your wife. She’s mine now. Don’t worry, I’ll show her what she’s been missing.” Laughter erupted in the background. Vivian snatched the phone back. “Did you hear that, Holden? You are a complete failure.” “You can’t even satisfy your own wife. Why do you even bother?” “I’m done pretending. I want a divorce. And I don’t want to see your sad, hangdog face ever again.” “And don’t think about alimony. I’ll make sure you leave with nothing. I have friends who can make you unemployable.” There it was. The knife in the back. I crushed the cigarette into the ashtray. “Vivian,” I said. My voice was quiet. The line went silent for a beat. “Which room are you in?” She hesitated, then scoffed. “Why? You want to come catch me? You don’t have the balls. I’m in the Emperor Suite. Come and get me if you dare.” “Okay,” I said. Then, enunciating every syllable: “I’m right outside the door.” Dead silence. Three seconds later, Vivian screamed. “Holden! You stalker! You freak!” “I’m not stalking you.” I opened the car door, stepping onto the pavement. “I’m coming to arrest you.” “Arrest me? Who do you think you are!” “You’ll find out.” I hung up. Texted Marcus: GO. I walked into the lobby. The manager saw me and immediately rushed over, sweating, bowing low. “Captain Ford. We didn’t expect you personally.” I ignored him, marching to the elevator. “Emperor Suite.” The manager turned pale but didn’t argue. He swiped his master key. The elevator doors slid open. The double mahogany doors of the suite loomed ahead. I could hear the music thumping through the wood. I signaled the manager to leave. Then, I raised my leg and kicked the doors in. CRASH. The lock shattered. The doors flew open, bouncing off the walls. The room froze. The music seemed to die instantly. Dozens of scantily clad people on plush velvet sofas turned to look. In the center, Vivian and Jax were entangled. Vivian’s face went white, then furious red. “Holden! Are you insane? Get out! Get out!” She shrieked. Jax stood up. He was big—gym muscles, inflated ego. He smirked. “So this is the husband? The loser?” He cracked his knuckles, walking toward me. “I’m going to teach you a lesson for interrupting us, little man.” Three other bouncers peeled off the wall, closing in. Vivian crossed her arms, a cruel smile returning to her face. She wanted to see this. I stood still. I didn’t flinch. I watched Jax come into range. Just as he pulled his arm back to swing— “POLICE! NOBODY MOVE!” The roar was deafening. Marcus and a dozen tactical officers flooded the room, body armor heavy, assault rifles raised. “HANDS! LET ME SEE HANDS!” Panic exploded.

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My best friend started a group chat to sell fruits. Feeling sorry for her as a single mom, I often bought from her and even proactively introduced her to new customers. One day, a new intern ordered ten pounds of oranges and directly transferred $19.90 in the group chat. I was stunned and messaged her privately: “The oranges are $29 a box, you’re $10 short.” The intern sent back a confused emoji. And then she sent me screenshots of her previous purchases. “Sis, I’ve always bought them for $19.90, how could it be $29?” I was completely dumbfounded. 1 When I saw that message, I was just about to pay Linda. If it were before, I would have questioned the intern’s character before suspecting Linda of lying to me. But now, the intern not only sent chat logs but also attached payment records from the past few months. My brain exploded. My first reaction was that it was fake, but then I realized the intern had no reason to lie to me. Looking at the enthusiastic Linda in front of me, she suddenly felt like a stranger. Regardless of who was lying, I was going to get to the bottom of this today. I’m a straightforward person; it saves time and solves problems fastest. So I immediately asked: “How much were these oranges again?” Linda’s smile froze for a second, then she chided playfully: “Same old price, of course. With our relationship, are you afraid I’ll rip you off?” Her vague answer made a lump form in my throat, annoying me to no end. Especially seeing that box of ambiguous oranges on the ground, my anger surged. “How much are these oranges, $19.90 or $29?” My voice wasn’t quiet, and people at the stall looked over. Someone immediately chimed in: “Did the boss raise prices?” “It was $19.90 for ten pounds yesterday, how is it $29 today?” “That’s changing too fast.” Saying that, they turned to leave. Linda rushed to explain. “Don’t listen to her nonsense, no price hike, still $19.90 for ten pounds.” She didn’t forget to glare at me while saying it. Now I understood everything. I kicked the oranges far away. “They’re all the same oranges, why are mine $10 more expensive? Are the ones you sell me gold-plated?” I thought Linda would explain properly, but her face changed faster than flipping a book. Her mouth drooped, and tears flowed. “Zoe, how did I offend you for you to treat me like this?” “I know I’m not as rich as you. You’re a white-collar worker in a big company, and I’m just a poor stall owner. But I have a conscience too. You helped me, I know, so every fruit I give you is hand-picked. Since I started selling fruits, your family has never lacked any. If you don’t want to pay, just say so. We’ve been friends for so many years, I won’t say anything, but you can’t insult me like this!” As soon as she finished, her daughter Wendy rushed out. Wendy stood in front of me timidly: “Auntie, please pay my mom for the fruit.” In an instant, my head throbbed. Passersby were pointing at me. Clearly, I wasn’t the one lying, but I wished the ground would swallow me up. Intense shame made me want to retreat, but the next second, Wendy grabbed my thigh. “Auntie, you make so much money every day, why do you want to cheat us out of a few dozen dollars for fruit?” “My mom works really hard to save money for my school, please pay us back.” Hearing this, I gasped in shock. Aside from the chill in my heart, I felt fear. They say children don’t lie, but no one said children can lie without blinking an eye! Seeing the passersby ready to rush up and serve justice, I swallowed hard and said: “They’re the same oranges. Your mom sells them to others for $19.90 for ten pounds, why is it $29 for ten pounds for me?” Before I could finish, Wendy burst into tears. “Every time my mom gives you oranges, she also gives a lot of other fruits. All those added up are way more than $29. Every time, mom says not to let you know, saying family can take a loss.” This was too damaging. Plus, coming from a child’s mouth, I instantly became the root of all evil. Passersby who didn’t know the truth thought I was a villain taking advantage and not paying. “Looks decent, didn’t expect her to be so despicable!” “Exactly, it’s not easy for a widow and orphan running a fruit stall, and she cheats them out of their hard-earned money!” Hearing this made my liver hurt from anger. I just wanted justice and clarity, how did the dirty water end up on me? And that Linda, I spent a lot on her usually. My husband’s company holiday benefits were all bought from her, and my gifts for holidays were pre-ordered from her. And the result? I’m just a damn doormat. Thinking of being treated like a fool because of my kindness, I wanted to slap myself. I’m kind, but I’m not a pushover! 2 “We’ve been neighbors for so many years, don’t you all know what kind of person I am?” There wasn’t much turnover in the community. Some people had lived here from being toddlers to getting married, so many knew each other. Hearing this, Linda’s face changed. She stepped forward to say something, but I beat her to it. I deliberately pointed at the clothes on Wendy and said: “You remember I bought these clothes for you, right?” I was sure she wouldn’t dare lie because the shop owner who sold the clothes was in the crowd. Linda gritted her teeth, “So what if you bought them? Do you want to mooch my fruit for free just for some cheap clothes worth a few dozen bucks?” Now the shop owner wasn’t having it. She grabbed Wendy’s collar and said: “A few dozen bucks wouldn’t even cover the cost of my clothes!” “The workmanship and texture of these clothes start at a small thousand ($1000+), okay?” At this moment, I was extremely grateful that my daughter insisted on buying this outfit that day. Back then, Wendy looked at it eagerly too, saying things like “it gets dirty too easily, I don’t like it.” Poor kids mature early. At the same age, my daughter clamored to be a princess. And Wendy, like the old me, could only say she didn’t like it contrary to her heart. My heart ached instantly. So I gritted my teeth and bought two sets, as healing for my past self. I thought since they were practically family, I shouldn’t favor one over the other too much. Afterward, to prevent Linda from overthinking, I deliberately said they were cheap street stall goods. I didn’t expect this to become the key to overturning the case today. I mocked: “I even bought clothes worth a thousand bucks, would I care about your ten or eight bucks!” In the end, of course, I won completely, and naturally, completely tore my face with Linda. She glared at me fiercely: “I didn’t expect you to be so petty and calculative!” I laughed out of anger: “Not wanting to be taken advantage of by you is being petty?” “Then isn’t your arbitrary pricing malicious fraud?” “You!” Linda trembled with anger, gnashing her teeth when she spoke, “Zoe, let’s wait and see!” “Hmph.” I sneered, “Who’s waiting and seeing with you? Spit out all the money you cheated from me, or I’ll call the police for fraud!” Of course, she didn’t give it to me in the end. Mainly because I was in a hurry to pick up my daughter from tutoring class and didn’t have time to tangle with her. 3 When my husband came home at night, I immediately told him and our daughter that I wanted to cut ties with Linda. Originally, I thought adults’ matters shouldn’t affect children, but Wendy’s lying really shocked me. If my daughter got corrupted too, it would be a huge loss. After coaxing my daughter to sleep, I hugged my husband and cried about the injustice today. “I am angry, but I am more hurt.” “I treated Linda with all my heart, how did I get this ending?” “I don’t lack that money, but I just can’t get over it.” My husband held me in his arms and coaxed softly: “I know, I know.” “You just feel that your sincerity was betrayed and want justice for yourself. But what if you get justice? You exposed her true colors today, she will definitely earn less in the future. If you ask for the money back, what if she takes revenge on you?” “She dares!” I said angrily. “Why wouldn’t she dare?” My husband continued: “As the old saying goes, cutting off someone’s wealth is like killing their parents. Plus, the economy is bad now. What if she gets desperate and takes revenge on you or our daughter?” “No way, right?” Even though I said that, I started to have cold feet. But thinking of my sincerity feeding the dogs, I felt I couldn’t let it go. “Don’t be angry. Isn’t there a saying? The happy ones yield. Our family is so happy, why bother with someone over a few dozen bucks? Besides, spending a few hundred bucks to see someone’s true colors is better than paying a higher price later, right?” I understood the logic, but my heart just couldn’t let it go. Plus, after such a scene, living in the same community… Looking down and seeing each other every day, it was so awkward. Seeing I was still unhappy, my husband patted my back and said: “Don’t be angry, I’ll tell you some good news.” “What good news?” “I got promoted, logistics director, salary doubled. We can move to a big house then, and you won’t have to face these annoying things.” This was truly the best news I heard. I hugged my husband and kissed him twice, “Hubby, I love you so much.” Another sleepless night passed. 4 I thought life would calm down from there, but unexpectedly, a few days later, Linda came knocking on my door. Through the peephole, I didn’t even want to open the door. I just pretended no one was home, but who knew my phone would ring the next second. The piercing sound made it awkward both inside and outside the door. Linda shouted loudly, “Zoe, I know you’re home. Wendy and I came specifically to apologize to you. I also brought you newly arrived fruits. From now on, your family won’t have to pay for fruits, and I’ll deliver them to your door personally.” Her words were really ugly. Was I after these ten pounds of oranges? I thought I would never open the door even if it killed me, but the neighbors couldn’t stand Linda’s noise anymore. Helplessly, I could only open the door. “Zoe, you finally opened the door. These are newly arrived oranges, try them quickly.” Her act of being a good sister made me sick. But you don’t hit a smiling person. Plus, remembering my husband’s principle of the happy one yielding yesterday, I directly took twenty bucks from the shoe cabinet and threw it at her. “I went to the Chinese medicine doctor yesterday, and he said eating too much fruit makes the heart cold and body chill. I dare not eat your fruit anymore.” I was direct. If she had any shame, she should have scrammed immediately. Who knew she seemed not to understand human language and put on an act of doing it for my own good again. “That’s just nonsense. Eating more fruit is good for your body, don’t listen to that.” Too lazy to listen to her nonsense, I responded perfunctorily and pushed her out. As a result, Linda not only didn’t leave but started asking if I was still angry about yesterday. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to talk to her even more, so I tried to close the door. Who knew she started to be relentless, saying: “Our anger is our business, why don’t you let others buy my fruit?” I completely lost patience, hands on hips, questioning: “Make yourself clear, who stopped others from buying fruit from you?” Linda rolled her eyes at me, “You, of course!” She said with certainty: “Before, when people asked you about fruit in Moments and groups, you replied immediately. These past few days, not only did you not reply in time, but you even ruined my big company orders.” When Linda first started selling fruit, business was bleak. To help her get business, I pulled people everywhere to create groups, posting ads in the group every day, reserving orders. I even discussed with my husband to change his company’s fruit benefits purchase to Linda. For this, he quarreled with me countless times, but my attitude remained unchanged, just one sentence: I’m helping her. But how did she treat me? Selling to others for $19.90, selling to me for $29. I accepted how you treated me today, my bad luck for being deserving, but what right do you have to treat everyone like this? What do you take everyone’s kindness for! Seeing she didn’t speak, I grabbed her collar directly and roared: “Speak! Tell everyone what you take everyone’s kindness for!” Linda had long been annoyed by my questioning. Plus, I listed her crimes one by one, she was too lazy to even pretend. She pushed me aside directly: “Are you done yet? Did I beg you to help me? Or did I beg you to buy my fruit? Business isn’t business if it’s not black-hearted. So what if I charged you ten bucks more? Isn’t it because you have too much money and have to show off? If you didn’t take it out, would I know you have money, would I ask you for more?” “Zoe, let me tell you, don’t always act like you help me without asking for return. If you really didn’t ask for return, you would have just given me money directly. Why detour every day to buy my fruit, telling everyone you meet that I’m a single mom and it’s not easy. I think you are basically using this to show off your kindness!” Saying that, she pointed at the people in the building and cursed: “And you guys, bought twenty bucks worth of stuff and expect me to be grateful? Ptui!” “You actually think of us like this in your heart?” Even though I had predicted the ending, I was still shaking with anger. “I helped you sincerely, and you think of me like this!” Linda sneered twice, “Sincerity?” “How much is sincerity worth? I also sold you fruit sincerely, why didn’t you buy every day? Why didn’t you give money and effort like for your own family? Why didn’t you give me your house and car to live and drive?” “Sincerity, I think you sincerely came to find a sense of existence on me!” “I cooperated with you for so long, not to mention asking you for a few bucks, even if I asked for your life, what could you say? What dare you say!” Saying that, she gestured to pinch me, but I slapped her. “I have really tolerated you for a long time!” With this slap, I used all my strength. All sisterly affection was completely severed at this moment. Linda lay on the ground staring at me fiercely. “Don’t look at me with those eyes. I’m not your mom, I have no reason to tolerate you unconditionally.” “To people like you, friends and relatives are just objects to suck blood from!” “I really don’t understand, how can you trample on other people’s sincerity with peace of mind?” “Are you naturally gifted or acquired maladjustment? In my opinion, you deserve to be betrayed by everyone!” “Friends for once, I wish you failure in everything and early ascension to bliss (death)!” “By the way, remember to return the money to me before ascending. And I know what you want to say, say I’m petty and calculating, right?” I looked at her coldly, “To you, I am like this! Even a dog knows to wag its tail at me when fed. You’re good, you directly switched to biting.” Finally, witnessed by everyone, Linda transferred the extra three hundred dollars she took from me back. I also requested it be marked as orange refund, lest she play me again. After doing everything, I happily took the money to treat my husband and daughter to a big meal. Money wasn’t much, but our anger was vented. Only I didn’t expect this completely enraged Linda. She dared not do anything to me, but my daughter suffered.

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I kidnapped a kitten. Despite its violent struggle, I was convinced it wanted to come home with me. That night, the Momma Cat was banging on my door: “Did I say I wasn’t raising it?!” My eyes lit up. “No problem! I’ll take both of you! Humans just want to give every stray a home!” Momma Cat slapped my hand away, offended. “I am not a stray! I am a wild cat!” “I belong to the wilderness and nature. How dare you call me a stray!” 1 “Do you know what this is? This is kidnapping!” “You don’t just grab a cute kid off the street and take them home!” “I have six kittens. I went back and counted four times, and there were only five! I’m bad at math! Are you trying to give me a stroke?” After picking up a kitten off the street, I was getting roasted by its mother until I questioned my entire existence. What hurt more was that after she finished scolding me, she took her kid and left. Before leaving, she jumped onto the coffee table and roundhouse-kicked my water cup across the room. Sob. I was once again a savage with no cat. And now, no water cup. The next day, while buying a new cup at the bodega downstairs, I saw her again. Gone was the majestic, fierce creature from last night. She was purring, rubbing against people’s legs, hooking the tip of her tail—effortlessly scampering a sausage out of the shop owner. She grabbed the sausage and bolted. I followed her quietly. She squeezed into an incredibly narrow alleyway. A normal adult couldn’t fit. But thanks to childhood malnutrition, I managed to slide in sideways. Inside a cardboard box lined with dirty rags, six kittens looked like wiggling balls of yarn, occasionally letting out tiny squeaks. Momma Cat counted them repeatedly. Only when she confirmed there were six did she relax. She dropped the sausage and licked her paws. I spoke up, startling her. “The temperature is dropping. It might snow. It’s not safe here.” “I remember you! You’re the kidnapper!” The fur on her back exploded. She lowered her body, staring me down, emitting a low, warning growl, ready to turn my face into a scratching post. To understand what she was communicating, look at the body language of a defensive cat. I stepped back, crouching down to show submission. “I was wrong before. I shouldn’t have called you a stray. I apologize.” “If you don’t want to be adopted, can we be friends? You can bring the kids to my place. Be my roommates.” My voice was low, pleading. “I’m really lonely. I want to be friends with a cat.” The cat didn’t seem to agree. But she sheathed her claws. “Cats only make friends with cats. Humans should make friends with humans,” she said. “But… it is getting cold.” My name is Morgan. Starting today, I am no longer alone. I have seven roommates. One Momma Cat, and her six kittens. 2 That night, I had a dream. I was walking alone in the snow for a long, long time. I was crying and shouting, but I didn’t know where my mom and dad were. So cold. Suddenly, it got warm… Wait! A kitten was peeing on my bed! At 3 AM, I changed the sheets. And took a shower. When I used the hair dryer, Momma Cat took the kittens and hid far away. They seemed terrified of the noise, so I turned it off and towel-dried my hair. Momma Cat suddenly said, “Human. It’s snowing.” I opened the curtains. Sure enough, gray flakes were drifting down under the streetlights like dancing moths. “It really is snowing,” I said, surprised. “How did you know?” She jumped onto the windowsill. “Snow is terrifying. Cats know when it snows just by using our whiskers.” Cats use their whiskers (vibrissae) as highly sensitive tactile sensors to detect changes in air currents and pressure, often sensing weather shifts before we do. “I also know this snow will be heavy and last a long time. It’s going to be freezing out there.” She leaned in and rubbed her furry head against me. “Thank you for taking us in.” I was flattered. I tried to reach out, but she dodged nimbly. It seemed she only loved me for a fleeting second. I closed the curtains, corralled the kittens back into their nest, and since I couldn’t sleep, I boiled some chicken breast for them and made myself some instant noodles. The kittens were teething and struggled with the meat. I wanted to shred it for them, but Momma Cat refused. “If they can’t even learn to tear meat, they can’t be wild cats.” “When the weather warms up, they’ll be big enough to go out and survive on their own.” I let it go, watching them struggle with the chicken while I ate a beef ball. “Is the human sad?” Momma Cat asked suddenly. “I can smell sadness.” I didn’t answer. She jumped onto my lap, curled into a ball, and went to sleep. Soft. Warm. 3 Just as the cat predicted, the snow was heavy and relentless. The world turned white. The news called it a once-in-a-decade blizzard. I was so glad the cats were with me. I had heat and a stockpile of food. Once we got familiar, the kittens became clingy, following me around, competing to see who could climb higher up my pant leg. Momma Cat got angry and bonked each of them on the head. “For a wild cat, getting too close to humans is bad,” she told me privately. “There are good humans and bad humans.” I asked if she regretted coming here. She shook her head, looking at the white window. “Surviving is more important than anything. For wild cats, for house cats… even for humans.” One night, I was sleeping soundly when I heard urgent meowing. I turned on the light. Momma Cat was pacing anxiously. One kitten was lethargic, lying flat, occasionally twitching and vomiting. “Human! Look what’s wrong with the little one!” I didn’t waste time. I wrapped the kitten in a thick pad and rushed to the vet. Momma Cat insisted on coming, telling the other five to stay put. I couldn’t get a taxi in the blizzard. I tucked Momma and the sick kitten into my coat and trudged through the snow to the pet clinic. It was closed. Luckily, there was a number on the door. I called, shivering. The vet sounded serious—he said it might be Parvovirus (Panleukopenia) and told me to wait; he was coming down. Feline Panleukopenia is highly contagious and fatal. Knowing the symptoms is crucial for early intervention. “It’s okay, the doctor is coming,” I whispered, comforting the trembling Momma Cat. The vet arrived quickly. He examined the kitten while Momma Cat and I sat on the side. “I’m not scared,” Momma Cat whimpered, burying her head in her paws. “A cat’s life is short and fragile. Closer to death than humans.” “It’s common not to raise a whole litter. That’s why we have so many.” “I was prepared for loss.” She was shaking as she said it. I petted her continuously. “It’s okay.” I looked up and realized the vet was staring at me. “How is the kitten?” I asked. “The cat is fine. It’s not Parvo, just mild indigestion.” The vet narrowed his eyes, staring straight at me. “I’m going to recommend a doctor for you.” “You’re a doctor, aren’t you? Can’t you cure the indigestion?” “I’m recommending a doctor for you.” He looked at me, then at the cat in my arms. “A psychiatrist.” 4 “Cats can’t speak.” “Intellectually, you realize and understand this, right?” Facing the psychiatrist, I opened my mouth but didn’t know what to say. Momma Cat was in my arms. I looked down; she looked up and meowed. Of course, I knew cats couldn’t speak. But she had spoken to me. And before someone pointed it out, I never felt it was strange. The dissonance made me anxious. The doctor pushed a cup of hot tea toward me. “Don’t be nervous. Relax.” “Do I need meds? Do I need to be hospitalized?” I whispered. “I don’t want to be hospitalized.” If I’m locked up, what happens to Momma Cat and the kids? The doctor adjusted his glasses. “Given your condition, there is a degree of cognitive distortion. I would recommend systematic treatment in a hospital.” “However, if it doesn’t affect your daily life, conservative treatment per your wishes is acceptable.” “You might just be socially deprived and lonely. I recommend changing your environment, interacting with people, and making some friends.” I nodded. Walking home, the snow started falling again. The cat stayed in my coat. After a long time, she asked, “Are you sick?” I pursed my lips. The doctor said if I ignore it, the symptoms might vanish. “Are you sick because of the cats?” I didn’t answer. She lowered her head. When I looked at her again, she just meowed. Back home, I fed them and gave medicine to the sick kitten. Momma Cat jumped onto the fridge, tail swishing, watching me. That night, I couldn’t sleep. It was too quiet. And cold. Just as dawn broke, I drifted off. Maybe I was dreaming, but I heard Momma Cat jump onto the pillow. She licked her paws and said: “A window can’t keep a wild cat in.” In my daze, it took me a while to process that sentence. I bolted upright. The window was open. The cold wind slapped my face. The room was silent. Momma Cat and the kittens were gone.

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I’d finally trained my arrogant society husband into a docile partner. Then a car crash stole six years of his memory. He woke up as the rebellious heir who was still obsessed with his childhood crush and utterly hated me. Watching him thrash and snarl, demanding I leave the hospital room, a profound weariness washed over me. I was too exhausted to start the training all over again. I simply nodded. “Fine. As you wish.” 1 By the time I rushed into the hospital, Brooks had already finished surgery and was awake. The moment he saw me, he sent the glass he was holding crashing to the floor, his handsome face flushing a furious red. “Who the hell called her? Didn’t I almost die, and you want to finish the job by bringing this plague into my room?” I stopped dead in my tracks, the polite smile I’d worn for the nurses dissolving slowly. Something was terribly wrong. Brooks would never speak to me like that. For the last year, I’d completely tamed him; he hadn’t raised his voice at me once. Yet, this state felt hauntingly familiar. It was like… Aside from the furious Brooks in the bed, his childhood crush, Amelia, and his assistant, Mark, were also in the room. Amelia’s expression was strangely guarded as she asked Brooks a question that made my mind seize up. “Brooks, you don’t remember Riley?” Brooks scoffed. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t forget that woman even if she turned to ash!” He turned to look at me, his striking eyes, usually alight with affection, now filled with nothing but ice. “She is the one person I have always despised.” Mark’s face went white. He looked desperate enough to physically clamp his CEO’s mouth shut. He quickly rushed to explain to me first. “Please, Ms. Riley, don’t be angry! Mr. Brooks suffered a head injury and lost the last six years of his memory. He doesn’t mean any of it!” Then, tearfully, he pleaded with Brooks. “Sir, you absolutely cannot say that! Ms. Riley is your wife! Before the crash, you couldn’t bear to even speak loudly to her! Don’t be impulsive!” “Bullshit!” Brooks bit out, completely unconvinced. “If I was going to marry anyone, it would be Amelia. Who the hell is Riley? Why would I ever be with such bad luck?” Amelia hid a flicker of victory in her eyes, moving quickly to loop her arm through Brooks’s, stroking his hair to calm him, shooting a smug, challenging glance my way. I watched the entire scene without expression, the warmth in my chest dropping degree by degree until it reached freezing point. After a long silence, I spoke just one sentence. “Brooks, if you shut up right now and come home with me, I will pretend none of this happened.” Brooks laughed. Then, he swept the bouquet of fresh-cut roses I’d brought him onto the floor. The vibrant red petals and broken stems scattered everywhere. He stared into my eyes, speaking each word with cold precision. “I won’t tell you to get out twice.” The hospital room went silent. The last flicker of hope in my heart was extinguished, replaced by a cold reality. A car crash had turned Brooks back into the rebellious heir who was obsessed with his first love and despised me above all others. I had spent six years teaching him manners, teaching him the right way to love, teaching him how to manage a marriage. Now, all of it was back to square one. I knew I could train the mad dog again. But looking into his eyes, flat and cold with absolute aversion, I suddenly felt an overwhelming weariness. One session of obedience school was enough for any lifetime. I nodded. “Fine. As you wish.” Then I turned and walked toward the door. Brooks hadn’t expected to get rid of me so easily. In his memory, I was the loud, obnoxious rival who never backed down from a fight. My sudden, quiet acceptance of defeat left him strangely off-balance, like a punch thrown that lands in cotton. He chased my retreating back with a taunt, trying to salvage his pride. “Hmph. What a performance. Good riddance. Did you think I’d chase you and apologize? Funny.” Mark, the assistant, who knew his boss would regret these words until the day he died, nearly fainted, muttering, We’re ruined, we’re ruined. After the hospital room door clicked shut, Brooks frowned and rubbed his chest. He didn’t know if it was the accident, but his heart felt terribly uneasy. “Brooks! What’s wrong?” Amelia, who’d been beaming once I left, was startled to see two lines of tears streaming down Brooks’s face. “Why are you crying? Are you in pain?” Brooks froze, wiped his face, and felt the wetness on his hand. Strange… He wasn’t sad at all. But why wouldn’t the tears stop? The weather outside was overcast and gray. It mirrored my mood perfectly. Brooks and I had been classmates through high school and college. We fought for first place, for class president, for contest spots. We were legendary rivals—every day, we’d spend as much time scheming against each other as we did studying. I once had him sit on gum; he once got soaked by a bucket of water over his door. He terrified me with his pet hamster, and I sicced a huge, gentle mutt on him that chased him eight times around the track. The pure hatred finally morphed into pure love during a sudden power outage in the library while we were working on our college dissertations. Brooks was the only son of the extremely wealthy Sterling family. He was smart and privileged. I was a scholarship kid from a small town, a small-time grinder. I spent six years pouring all my energy into transforming him from an arrogant wild dog into a docile sheep. Any investment requires input. I didn’t regret the time I spent on Brooks. I just never expected a simple car accident—one that wasn’t even life-threatening—could erase all my effort overnight. Perhaps this was the universe handing me a chance to cut off the love, harden my heart, and focus entirely on my own career. My phone rang. It was Graham, Brooks’s best friend. “Riley, I heard about Brooks. Are… are you okay?” Graham, Brooks, and I went to the same school. During the early days of our campus romance, the three of us hung out constantly. He knew exactly how much Brooks had changed. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Focus on your art exhibition.” Graham had chosen not to inherit his family business, instead becoming a celebrated painter. He was currently preparing for a major show. The line was quiet for a moment. Then, he asked a strange question. “Are you two… going to get a divorce?” I blinked, staring at the overcast sky for a long time before I answered. “It’s the one thing he’s ever truly wanted from me.” After hanging up, I returned to the house Brooks and I had shared. Unwashed dishes were on the table, and half-finished puzzle pieces lay on the floor. Every corner of the house held the trace of our life together. After just one trip outside, everything had changed. What was most heartbreaking was that Brooks was still Brooks. He remembered everyone else, everything else. He had just forgotten the single fact that he loved me. When Graham asked if we would divorce, I already knew the answer. Six years ago, Brooks hated me so much he could barely look at me without feeling sick. He couldn’t stand breathing the same air. How could that version of him tolerate living with me now? The heater was set high, but my hands and feet were ice-cold. The door suddenly opened behind me. I turned to see Brooks, his head wrapped in bandages, Mark right behind him. Amelia was also there, clinging to Brooks’s arm like a proud little fiancée. On the wall not far from them hung Brooks’s and my wedding photo. Pre-amnesia Brooks would never have allowed this. He knew how jealous and possessive I was; to avoid being thrown out, he wouldn’t even let a female mosquito near him. But the current Brooks was clearly enjoying Amelia’s closeness. Of course—six years ago, he was madly in love with Amelia, willing to be led on like a puppy. He was infamous on campus for being her pathetic admirer. Back then, Amelia took his love for granted. It was only after he married me that she had a change of heart, texting him on our wedding night to say she would wait for him forever. It seemed she had gotten her wish. Brooks scowled the moment he saw me. He snorted, sweeping his gaze around the living room, his expression turning sour. “Seriously? This little box is where we live? It’s barely bigger than my parents’ linen closet. Did the Sterling fortune collapse or something? Why am I living in this dump?” Mark quickly explained. “Ms. Riley preferred a cozy, unpretentious house. You chose it together, Sir! You were ecstatic the day you moved in, saying you loved it.” Brooks choked on his words. He glared at Mark, threatening him darkly. “Next time, stick to explaining the situation. No unnecessary commentary.” Amelia giggled. “It’s understandable that people from less refined backgrounds have limited taste. Brooks only tolerated it out of the kindness of his heart. She’s too coarse and low-class to think about anyone else. Brooks, you must have suffered for six years. How can anyone breathe in a place this small? You can barely stretch your legs!” She shook his arm. “Brooks, go pack your things. We’re moving you out today. I’ve had my maid prepare the largest guest suite at my villa. You can stay with me.” Brooks was about to agree, but Mark frantically shook his head like a bobblehead, desperately signaling caution. “Mr. Brooks, absolutely not! You are a married man! You can’t impose on Ms. Amelia! It’s completely inappropriate, Sir. If you find this house too small, why not stay at your family’s estate for a few days?” “That works, too—” I cut Brooks off. “Mark, you don’t need to say another word. I don’t care. He can live wherever he wants. This house is in my name, and I have the right to remove people I despise.” I then pointed Brooks toward the front door, my gaze fixed on his widened eyes. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get out. This is my house, and you are not welcome here.” Brooks genuinely wanted to leave. Just looking at me irritated him. But hearing that? That made him want to stay. Leaving now would be admitting defeat. He wasn’t going to let me win. She doesn’t want to see me? Fine, I’ll stay and make her miserable! “Ha! We aren’t divorced yet. What right do you have to kick me out? So what if the house bought during the marriage is in your name? It’s communal property!” He shook off Amelia’s arm. “Amelia, be a good girl and go home. I’ll deal with this mess and come find you later.” Amelia bit her lip, trying to argue, but Mark was relentless, repeating, “Ms. Amelia, let me drive you home,” which finally drove her mad. She left, looking back at the house every three steps. After the sequence of opening and closing doors, only Brooks and I remained in the living room. He looked at the dinner table piled with leftovers, grimaced in disgust, and then slumped onto the sofa like a feudal lord. “I’m hungry. Clean this up first, and then go cook for me.” I rolled my eyes. Pretending I hadn’t heard him, I sat down on the rug and resumed working on the jigsaw puzzle. This was the last memory I shared with the real Brooks. Finishing it would be the final punctuation mark on this story of unrequited love. The man on the sofa erupted. “Hey! I’m talking to you! Are you deaf?” I didn’t even look up. “If you’re hungry, clean it up and cook it yourself. Stop bossing me around.” “Aren’t you my wife? Why won’t you cook for me? You must do it every day, but suddenly you can’t today? Are you doing this on purpose? Is your hand broken?” My puzzle-assembling paused. I looked up to meet his gaze. A messy palette of negative emotions—disgust, impatience, pure frustration. How familiar. This was exactly the attitude of the six-years-ago Brooks Sterling—spoiled, clueless, and convinced everyone was put on Earth to serve him. I guess after the bitter, you don’t always get the sweet. Sometimes you get something rancid and sour. If this were the past, I would have lectured him, set a new rule, or slapped him across the face. But now, it all felt pointless. “Fine. I’ll cook.” I put the puzzle down and walked into the kitchen. In my peripheral vision, Brooks looked smug and triumphant, thinking he’d won another round and pushed me back down where he thought I belonged. He couldn’t see the placid indifference on my face. He couldn’t feel the death of my love. Brooks didn’t need to try so hard to drive me away. Once the puzzle was finished, I would have left on my own. It had been a while since I’d cooked, and my skills were rusty. When I brought the plates to Brooks, he complained about every single one. “Too much oil on that. That’s cut too small. All the scallions are burnt. Don’t you know you’re supposed to sauté the meat before you season?” He stopped short, looking confused. He didn’t understand how he knew any of that. I knew, of course. For the last few years, he was the one who did the cooking. He went from nearly blowing up the kitchen to cooking like a professional chef, all within six years. He’d study new recipes with excitement, swearing that he’d cook every delicious meal in the world for me, even if he burned himself or cut his fingers. I didn’t say any of this. Brooks wouldn’t believe it anyway. It would be harder than dying to convince him that he ever loved me. “I know!” Brooks suddenly threw his chopsticks down. “Amelia loves gourmet food. I must have learned how to cook so I could make things for her! That makes sense. My skills must be amazing now!” He looked down at the unappetizing dishes I’d made, his forehead wrinkling in disgust. “How did you even make this garbage? It’s repulsive. Honestly, trash belongs in the trash.” With that, Brooks grabbed the wastebasket and scraped all three dishes—the food I’d spent an hour making—into the garbage. He hadn’t even taken a single bite. “Riley, you are truly wicked. You deliberately hid the fact that I’m a great cook now, then made this pig slop just to disgust me, didn’t you? You just wait. You mess with me, and you’ll find out the consequences!” He gave me a menacing look and went into the kitchen to cook for himself. I looked at the food in the trash. I remembered how the pre-amnesia Brooks had pleaded with me for months to cook him just one meal. The thing he once begged for was now tossed out like slop. I suddenly found the scene ridiculous. Brooks, if you ever get your memory back. Will you feel even a sliver of regret for throwing away the last meal I ever cooked for you? For an entire week, Brooks tried every trick to make me lose my temper. Amelia dropped by every few days, and together they treated our house like a revenge mission, turning it into a complete wreck. They shredded the leather sofa, poured paint into the fish tank, drew graffiti all over the walls, and used our wedding photo as a giant doodle pad. In Brooks’s mind, he truly was retaliating against an enemy. He even took the ceramic gift I’d made for him and personally smashed it, letting Amelia pour red paint over the fragments. Graham happened to drop by that day to check on Brooks and was horrified. Standing in the ruined house, he was silent for a long time before sending me a text. [Riley, you should come stay with me for a bit. Brooks… he’s not just lost his memory, he’s lost his mind.] Even an outsider like Graham knew how much Brooks treasured that gift, keeping it spotlessly clean and refusing to let anyone touch it. I thanked him but declined. I genuinely didn’t care anymore. Once I left, nothing in this house would matter to me. The only thing I protected was the half-finished puzzle on the floor. Whenever Brooks and Amelia were going insane around the house, I would quietly sit there and work on the puzzle. Only one corner remained blank. Brooks found my behavior hilarious. He and Amelia mocked me, saying I was crazy to use this childish thing to pine over the pathetic man who married me. Brooks, they laughed, hated puzzles, and had only pretended to work on it with me because I forced him. He would only ever change himself for the person he truly loved. And Brooks Sterling could never love Riley. What Brooks didn’t notice was that every time he made that cruel joke, Amelia would nervously avert her gaze, falling silent as a mute. I thought Brooks’s vengeance would stop there. I underestimated the depth of his six-years-ago hatred. I finally understood what he meant when he said, You just wait. The next day, I arrived at the office to news that our most important long-term partner was terminating the contract. For two years, our relationship had been stable and problem-free. I went pale and immediately ordered an investigation. It was only when I saw Brooks’s signature on the termination contract that a loud ringing started in my ears, and my entire body went cold. This company was one that Brooks and I had built from the ground up. It was meant to prove to the Sterling family that we could succeed without their support. Now, because of Brooks’s childish act of revenge—forcing the termination with our biggest partner, which incurred massive breach of contract fees—the company would be blacklisted within the industry and suffer unprecedented damage. Years of effort, blood, sweat, and tears—all poured down the drain. All because of Brooks Sterling’s signature. The heir had the powerful Sterling family backing him. The small-town grinder had no one. I don’t remember how I got home. I only remember seeing Amelia sitting on the slashed sofa, her foot resting on my wedding photo, her hand sporting the diamond wedding ring I’d bought, waving it at me triumphantly. My blood rushed to my head, and I charged forward, slapping her across the face. “CRACK!” The loud sound echoed throughout the living room. Brooks saw Amelia’s instantly swollen face and exploded in rage. “Riley! You’re out of your mind! You dare hit Amelia? You’re asking for it!” He lunged forward, kicking the jigsaw puzzle I was protecting. The force of his action even stunned Amelia. As if in slow motion, the puzzle exploded in the air. The pieces scattered across the floor like confetti, settling in the ruined house as if mourning its death. At the exact same moment, Brooks’s heart felt as though it had been crushed. The agony stole his breath, leaving him nauseous. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He bent over, gasping for air. The doctor had explicitly said the post-accident syndrome would not cause cardiac pain. So what was happening to him? He should have felt overjoyed at avenging himself against his enemy. Why did his heart feel like it was breaking? As he bent over, Brooks suddenly saw the jade bangle on my wrist. He remembered it. It was his grandmother’s, and he was supposed to give it to the woman he loved. And then. I spoke. “Brooks, let’s get a divorce.”

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For five years, I fought Natalie, Liam’s untouchable Gold Standard—his high school sweetheart, his lost flame—just to move up from the gilded cage. Mrs. Harrington’s decree was simple: the first mistress to successfully bear a child would become the next Mrs. Harrington. That night, Liam was drugged. He stumbled into my room, desperate and incoherent. My body, famously “fertile,” delivered the result. Post-wedding, he was the model husband—attentive, showering me with affection, even personally tending to my entire pregnancy. Everyone called me lucky. But on the day my water broke, he bound me, surgically cut open my belly in the dark basement, and watched me bleed out. “If you hadn’t foolishly tried to treat me, I wouldn’t have been separated from the one I was meant to be with,” he spat. “The heir is born. She and I will raise him. You’ve served your purpose. Now, die.” My second life. I shoved a very pregnant Natalie into the room instead of going myself. “Go on, your fortune awaits!” I walked away, finally free. A year later, on a tourist trip up north, I found Natalie begging on the street. Her face was mutilated, her limbs broken, shivering violently. She grabbed my hand, sobbing, her voice a raw rasp: “Piss poor luck, that bastard used me as a goddamn broodmare! Said his heart’s delight was infertile, stole the kid right after he was born, and dumped me without a cent!” Then she died, right there on the frozen sidewalk. I woke up a third time, back on the night Liam was drugged. I looked at the sixteen other women in the mansion, the sixteen other golden cages. Natalie and I exchanged a glance, sinking into a heavy silence. The question was a bullet in the air, cold and hard: Who, exactly, was the infertile one? 1 Inside, Liam was groaning like a desperate animal, his sounds thick and primal. No matter how much he pleaded for one of us to open the door, Natalie and I clung to the doorknob, two statues of modern-day restraint. Then, the cavalry: Mrs. Harrington, a formidable presence, and the remaining sixteen mistresses. “What is all this commotion?” She shoved the door open. Liam was red-faced, tearing at his shirt. Mrs. Harrington gave us both a sharp rap on the head. “You two fight every day to get in, and now that the door is open, you’re playing the deference card?” “You’re both supposedly ‘super-fertile.’ Anyone of you can conceive tonight. Decide who goes in!” The old woman was beyond desperate for a great-grandchild, and with Liam constantly traveling, we were—in her mind—the two best candidates. Natalie and I stared each other down. If I go, I die. If she goes, she dies. The solution? Send the true love. But who, among eighteen women, was it? I spoke softly, carefully. “Mrs. Harrington, it’s not fair to the others. And we should respect Liam’s choice.” I turned to him, my voice dripping with false concern. “Liam, darling, who do you choose? It’s okay if you don’t conceive immediately. We can’t let you upset the one you truly love.” I knew that when I’d tried to help him in the first life, everyone else was sleeping. I just needed to see if he would sacrifice his “true love” now that she was standing right here. Liam looked at me, struggling through the haze. “Then… Sienna, you come.” His voice was a reluctant groan. I could hear the sheer unwillingness. Mrs. Harrington nodded. “Sienna, go. It’s what you’ve always wanted.” She wasn’t wrong. Marriage to Liam had been my ultimate dream. He was my rescuer. The golden boy who saved me from the alley thugs in college. He was tireless in his care, his affection, his gifts. As an orphan from the group home, a crumb of love was enough to make me fall. I became his seventeenth mistress, dismissing all the warnings that he was a confirmed bachelor. In the first life, he sent everyone else away, and personally nursed me through pregnancy. I was delirious with happiness. Then came the basement, the ropes, the cold steel of the scalpel. He murdered me without anesthetic, watching me thrash. “I never loved you. I married you for a promise to my grandmother. The heir is here, and now you die. I will raise him with the one true love of my heart.” My last question was if it was Natalie. He just smiled: “You’ll see.” I bled out before I could turn my head and never saw the face. The horror was visceral. My palms were slick with sudden, fresh fear. I shook my head. “I can’t.” Mrs. Harrington was bewildered. “Why? Didn’t you always want to be Mrs. Harrington?” I chose my words carefully, my tone utterly sincere. “It was a mistake. I confused gratitude for love.” I took a deep breath, dropping the bomb. “The truth is, Mrs. Harrington, I took a lover last month. I’m already carrying his child.” Liam’s face went crimson, veins bulging in his forehead. “Sienna, you are unbelievable!” His furious gaze shifted to Natalie. Before he could speak, she stumbled back three steps, throwing her hands up. “Don’t look at me, I’m out!” Liam scoffed, “What, you’re sleeping around too?” Natalie’s eyes lit up with invention. She pointed at me, nodding vigorously. “Yeah! We hooked up with the same guy! I’m pregnant too!” Mrs. Harrington nearly passed out from shock and fury. A good womb was useless if it carried bastards. She banished us both, telling the two “hussies” to be packed and gone by morning. She looked worriedly at Liam. “What about the others?” Liam’s rejection was instant and sharp. “No!” Natalie and I exchanged a baffled look. Ah, I see. He thinks it would be disrespectful to his true love if he slept with someone else after this mess. How deeply romantic. Liam spent the night in a tub of ice water. Natalie and I slept soundly, dreaming of freedom. The next morning, bags packed, we met Liam at the door. He threw two blood test reports at our feet. “You both lied. You are not pregnant. You conspired to trick me!” So that’s why we slept so well. The bastard. Natalie, the straightforward one, bristled. “So what? We just don’t want to carry your kid!” The Harrington name, a powerful one on the East Coast, was being openly mocked by a mere mistress. Mrs. Harrington was visibly offended. “Liam, let it go. You have sixteen other girls. You’ve been too busy to focus on a family. But if you try, someone will conceive.” Liam laughed, a cold, harsh sound. “No woman has ever refused me and gotten away with it. My reputation would be ruined!” He glared at us both. “I will only choose from the two of you!” The doctor had warned him that the ice bath had taxed him severely. He needed a week to recover, or he risked permanent damage. Liam looked at me, a cold fury in his eyes. “One week. Don’t try to run. I will find you.” The other mistresses were furious, making it impossible to single out the true love. Perhaps it was the lack of a shared target, but Natalie quickly barged into my room. “What do we do? That bastard’s pride is at stake. He wants us to be reproductive machines for his true love! I refuse to die!” I showed her my phone. “There’s a loophole. We’re ‘super-fertile’ because of our exceptional uterine quality. Liam wouldn’t know the specifics.” I explained the absurd idea. “If we find his infertile true love, I can offer her a transplant. He should be happy then, right?” Natalie’s eyes widened. “My god, that’s genius! Give her mine too! Let them breed like rabbits in a hutch, just leave us alone!” We agreed on the plan. I would arrange a group physical for the other mistresses. The results were staggering. All sixteen of them were medically infertile. “Holy hell. That’s too damn convenient. We only have two uteruses. That’s not enough to go around!” Natalie shrieked. “We can’t just pick one!” She was right. If the woman wasn’t the true love, she would meet the same fate as me in the first life. I wasn’t that heartless. Natalie, a bundle of raw nerves, volunteered to interrogate the mistresses. I knew I had to handle Liam. The next day, I headed to the small, unpretentious family restaurant near my old campus. Liam was waiting, the table laden. He pointed to a dish. “Spicy Lamb Offal. I knew you’d come. Hungry? Five years ago, you ate half the plate, so I order it every anniversary.” Today was our five-year anniversary—the night he rescued me. I suddenly laughed. “Liam, we’ve eaten everything on this menu over five years. I’ve never touched the offal. I hate organ meat.” I leaned forward, keeping my gaze steady. “The person you’re remembering, Liam, is she really me?” He put down his chopsticks. He sighed. “Since you asked directly, I will tell you.” He raised his hand, pointing to the door. My heart pounded. This is it. The doorway was empty. He was pointing at the crowded photo wall, at a candid snapshot of us. He smiled, a practiced, melancholic look. “Sienna, this place holds our most precious memories. Would I bring anyone else here? I’m over thirty, my memory is a little foggy. I just forgot you hated offal. The other women were games. I want forever with only you. Trust me.” The waitress, a friend of ours, chimed in: “Mr. Harrington looks at you with so much love, Miss. Of all the couples, you look the most like a real man and wife.” I felt dizzy, the words sinking into the old wounds of my past. He was my protector, driving hours to bring me a heating pad for cramps. He defended me from the bullies. He was the only person who had ever made me feel like I was worth something. I wanted to believe him. I pointed to the photo. “What about Natalie? Your first love. If she was the one whose room you stumbled into, would you be saying this to her? Our doors are identical, and you’re rarely home. It would be an easy mistake. That’s why you asked us to choose.” His hand tightened on my shoulder. He chuckled dismissively. “Natalie? A high school fling. She was just fighting with you out of stubborn pride. I only said that to protect you from her competitiveness. I’m protecting you, Sienna.” He kissed my cheek. “And you made me soak in an ice bath because you were jealous and lied about sleeping around. You broke my heart.” He wasn’t wrong about Natalie. She was a tomboy, more aggressive than half his male friends, and had only become a mistress out of pure spite. As we walked to the car, Liam suddenly buried his face in my neck, his voice low and ragged. “If you’re so worried, five days from now, we’ll get married. We’ll skip the engagement. I need you so badly right now, and if the doctor hadn’t warned me, I’d take you here…” I pushed him away, feigning a blush. “Stop it! Someone might see!” “The wedding, yes. But no license yet. I need to get pregnant first, or Mrs. Harrington will be furious. We’ll have a wedding ceremony to make Natalie finally give up. I need to save face. I want the most lavish wedding. The city’s elite. Live broadcast.” Relief washed over him. “Deal, my love.” I watched his car disappear. My smile vanished. I went back inside. I paid the owner a handsome sum. “I want the photo you just showed me. And I want the other one.” The wedding announcement spread through the city that afternoon. I returned to an eerily quiet mansion. Natalie was pacing, staring at the empty hall. “They’re all gone. Why aren’t you?” “Sienna, you’re a big idiot!” Natalie rushed me, but instead of hitting me, she hugged me, sobbing. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re still a fool for love! Let’s just run!” I patted her back. “We’re not even married yet. I only agreed to the ceremony.” I felt her body tense up as she remembered the basement. “Don’t worry,” I whispered. “I won’t let you die.” Natalie confessed she learned nothing. “They’re gone, who knows where. How do we find the true love?” I wiped her tears. “No need to look, Nat. I know who it is. And no, they won’t agree to the uterus transplant.” “Why not? Get married and have your own kid? They’re insane!” I laid out the two photos side-by-side. Natalie looked, then looked again. Her expression went from confusion to utter horror. “Holy smokes… I see it.” “You see it.” The first photo showed Liam’s devoted gaze, but in the second, from a different angle, it was clear he was looking past me, at the person standing by the wall. I’d checked the surveillance: when Liam had his “reaction” in the car, that person had been standing not far away. The whole puzzle clicked. No wonder he insisted on me or Natalie. A knock on the door. A man in a tailored suit, golden-rimmed glasses, exuding a slight air of competence. Natalie squeezed my arm. “Hot! Who is that? He looks like you.” The man smiled. “Sienna, I’m Lucas, your brother.” He wanted to take me home. I told him the plan. He sighed, but didn’t argue. Natalie was confused. “Your brother is so rich. Why not just leave?” I was already picking out a dress. “Because Liam needs to pay the price for the first two lives.” Natalie brightened. “You’re damn right! I’m staying to watch that bastard crash and burn!”

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In my last life, my mom, wanting to repay a kindness, revealed my “lucky charm” constitution. I was married into the powerful Tang family as a matrilocal husband to bring luck and healing to their heiress, Tang Wen, who was terminally ill. A month later, Tang Wen, who was diagnosed with days to live, miraculously recovered. The Tang elders were ecstatic, showering me with stocks, houses, and cars. But on my birthday, Tang Wen imprisoned and tortured me. Broken, I asked her why. She sneered, “I was never sick! You forged my medical records with your mom to marry into money, claiming I had late-stage stomach cancer. You broke me and Jax up, causing his depression and suicide!” Tang Wen brutally severed my limbs and threw me in front of a grave. “Didn’t you say you’re a lucky charm? Let’s see you luck him back to life!” I bled out in agony. Before dying, I learned I repaid the wrong kindness; my savior was someone else. My parents were targeted by the Tangs—one dead, one driven mad. My soul wept tears of blood, regretting saving this ungrateful wolf. Then I opened my eyes, back to the day Mrs. Tang came to find me. 1 Mrs. Tang asked me if “bringing luck” through marriage really worked miracles, if it could save someone with one foot in the grave. I smiled. “If she’s sick, see a doctor. Believe in science. The ‘lucky charm’ thing is just my mom’s superstition. Don’t take it seriously.” My constitution was always a family secret. In my past life, if we hadn’t mistaken my savior, I wouldn’t have married into the Tang family to save Tang Wen. Not only was she ungrateful, she destroyed my family. In this life, let’s see how Tang Wen fares without me! But even after I said that, Mrs. Tang wouldn’t give up. “Better safe than sorry. Marrying my daughter is no loss to you. Let’s try it.” The Tangs were powerful. If they wanted to force me, they had ways. I frowned, about to find an excuse, when Tang Wen rushed in. “Mom, I won’t marry Xavier! My husband will only be Jax!” Seeing her reaction, I knew she was reborn too. Mrs. Tang looked troubled. “But your health…” Tang Wen said hatefully, “I’m perfectly fine. Here’s my real medical report. The stomach cancer and lucky charm nonsense were lies made up by Xavier and his mom to climb the social ladder!” She shoved a report into Mrs. Tang’s hands. Mrs. Tang glanced at it, her expression changing instantly. She called me a liar and ordered the servants to kick me out. I was disgusted, but happy to cut ties with the Tangs. I turned to leave. But I hadn’t gone far when Tang Wen shouted from behind: “Stop!” I pretended not to hear and kept walking. “Xavier, I said stop! Are you deaf?” Tang Wen jogged over to block me, and suddenly vomited a large pool of blood. Her body couldn’t handle the exertion. I stepped back in disgust. “What?” Tang Wen was furious at my reaction. “You dare be disgusted? Usually when I cough blood, you’re the most worried. Why aren’t you worried now?” That was when I thought she was my savior and my wife. But she wasn’t my savior, and she destroyed my family. Why should I care? “Miss Tang is mistaken. We don’t know each other…” Before I could finish, Tang Wen interrupted angrily. “Stop acting, Xavier. When you admitted the lucky charm thing was fake to my mom, I knew you were reborn too!” Seeing the jig was up, I looked at her. “So?” Tang Wen sneered. “In this life, don’t think you can trick me with your lucky charm or stomach cancer lies. Saying you married me to repay a kindness… hilarious. I never saved you!” Her smug, self-righteous look was annoying. But I couldn’t be bothered to argue with a dying person. I just wanted to make things clear. “Don’t worry, Miss Tang. I realized I mistook my savior and I don’t like you. I absolutely won’t marry you this time.” 2 Tang Wen’s face turned ugly. But I ignored her. An ambulance rushed out from nearby. If I remember correctly, that’s where Chloe lives. She is my real savior. In my last life, she died on my wedding day. Good people should be rewarded. This time, I won’t let her suffer that fate! My face changed, and I tried to rush to the hospital. But Tang Wen called her bodyguards to seize me, dragging me to another property and locking me up. “I said I won’t marry you. What is this?” I frowned. Tang Wen sneered. “You loved me so much, taking care of me even when you had a high fever. You lied about my cancer just to marry me… You think I’d believe you now?” I held back the urge to curse. “It wasn’t just my mom who said you had cancer. And you know how your body feels.” I meant to say we didn’t lie. But Tang Wen got angrier. “Shut up! Jax told me before he died in the last life. You bribed the experts. I vomited blood because of the medicine your mom prescribed!” No wonder she went crazy on my family. But I had no grudge against Jax Liu. I didn’t know why he framed us! I was furious. “We never did that…” “Still denying it! Jax is waiting for our date. I have no time to waste on you. Our wedding is in five days. Don’t try anything. I’ll release you after the wedding.” Tang Wen left happily. I tried to rush out but was pinned down, watching the door close. I cursed Tang Wen’s ancestors and called the police. She looked grim as she brought Jax to release me. No real harm done, so the police just mediated. After the police left, Tang Wen gritted her teeth. “You dared to call the cops. You’ve got guts!” I looked at her coldly. “If I didn’t, would I starve for five days?” She blurted out, “You’ve done it before, you won’t die!” True. In the last life, I upset her and she locked me up for five days. Thinking of her company going public, I didn’t want to cause trouble, so I survived on toilet paper and vase water. But she killed me once. I know my real savior now. I won’t be that stupid again! I just wanted to stay away. “Marry Jax if you want. It has nothing to do with me. No need to lock me up.” Tang Wen didn’t believe me. “Don’t try to fool me. You escaped to ruin my wedding with Jax, didn’t you? Dream on!” Convinced I wanted to cause trouble, she contacted my hospital director, claiming we forged medical records, and got me and my mom fired. My dad’s small trading company was also targeted by her and faced bankruptcy. And my “attempt to marry into wealth” was leaked online. Everywhere I went, people mocked me. “That’s Xavier Xie. He and his unethical mom forged records to climb the social ladder.” “What era is this? Still using ‘lucky charm’ scams? Hilarious.” “The Tang heiress and Jax Liu are a perfect match. Who does this Xavier think he is?” “Shameless homewrecker. Too bad President Tang saw through him!” All insults against my family. I was pushed around in public, even hit with objects. While I faced this, Tang Wen sat in her car nearby. She called me. “This is just a small lesson. Dare to covet me again, and I’ll make your family wish for death!” 3 Tang Wen still didn’t believe I didn’t want her or her money. I hung up. I hope she’s this arrogant the day she dies! Dad sighed at home. Mom cried until her eyes were swollen. “We just wanted to repay a kindness. How did it come to this?” “Because Tang Wen isn’t my savior. Her mom lied when she found out about my constitution. My real savior is Chloe Chu!” I comforted my parents and finally contacted the Chu family. Mrs. Chu was Buddhist and believed in the “lucky charm” concept. She agreed immediately. She held my hand, promising, “Success or not, the Chu family owes you. If anything happens to Chloe, you can stay as our son-in-law or remarry. We won’t mistreat you.” I didn’t care about that. I just wanted to repay the kindness. But Mrs. Chu transferred 5 million dollars to me on the spot and arranged help for Dad’s company. I wanted to marry tomorrow to help Chloe recover sooner. But Mrs. Chu refused. “Marrying a dying girl is wronging you enough. The wedding can’t be rushed. We’ll do it in two days.” So the wedding coincided with Tang Wen and Jax’s. I didn’t care, but Tang Wen found out and stormed over. “Who allowed you to marry someone else?” she demanded. I married her to save her, she destroyed my family. I marry someone else, she’s unhappy. Is she sick in the head? I rolled my eyes. “I’ll marry who I want. What’s it to you?” Tang Wen lifted her chin. “Stop acting. How could you want to marry a dying girl like Chloe? Playing hard to get to make me jealous?” I was disgusted. “I’m marrying Chloe to bring her luck. It has nothing to do with you.” “Still using that excuse? Xavier, playing hard to get too much is annoying! Here’s the key to the Riverview Villa. Stay there. I’ll be with Jax for the first half of my wedding night, then come to you.” Tang Wen forced a key into my hand, scratching my palm. I laughed in anger. “You want me to be your side piece?” Tang Wen’s eyes darkened. “I only love Jax. Letting you be a lover is already generous. Don’t be ungrateful!” She drove off. I threw the key away. Tang Wen, that bitch. I can’t wait to see her die miserably on her wedding day! She didn’t make me wait long. On the wedding day, our motorcades met. Tang Wen saw me and her face darkened. “Xavier, I allowed you to be my lover, yet you dare to ruin my wedding with Jax… shameless!” Running into such bad luck on a big day. I frowned. “Are you blind? I’m in the Chu family car. No one is ruining your wedding.” Tang Wen yelled, “Don’t think you can fool me! Chloe really has leukemia. Your lucky charm thing is a lie. You wouldn’t marry a dead person. You just want to swap with Jax…” Splatter! Before she could finish her rant, she vomited a massive mouthful of blood. Tang Wen obviously didn’t expect this, staring at me in disbelief. I just smiled coldly, watching her stumble and fall. 4 She’s dying. This was always her fate! Seeing this, the accompanying doctors rushed over in panic to treat Tang Wen. But Jax rushed over and pushed them away. “Get back! Wen is fine. You lie to her all day, don’t you have a conscience?” He handed painkillers to Tang Wen. She poured half the bottle into her mouth, staring at me. “Xavier, don’t think because you and your mom drugged me to make my symptoms look severe, I’ll cancel the wedding to marry you.” She wiped the blood from her mouth, eyes full of mockery. “Lucky charm constitution? I don’t believe it. If marriage could save people, why do we need doctors?” I seriously suspected her brain was full of water. “I’ve always wanted to marry Chloe. Can you stop imagining things?” Tang Wen was angered by my tone. “You—” Before she could speak, Chloe, in her wedding dress, walked over quickly. She blocked me. “Hubby, she vomited so much blood. Are you scared?” “I’m fine.” I smiled at her. I’m a doctor. This scene is nothing. Chloe relaxed. But Tang Wen looked like she saw a ghost. “How? At this time, shouldn’t Chloe be dead? Why is she alive and well?” As soon as she spoke, she vomited more blood, lying on the ground like a dead dog, unable to get up. People like her deserve to die in agony! I frowned and pulled Chloe’s sleeve. “Miss Chu, we should go. Don’t miss the auspicious hour.” “Okay.” Chloe only had eyes for me. She agreed gently and took me into the car. Tang Wen wanted to stop me, but she couldn’t even crawl. Her wedding dress was soaked in blood, looking wretched and terrified. “It hurts… Jax, why aren’t the painkillers working? Why does it hurt so much?” Jax turned pale. “Maybe… maybe you didn’t take enough. Take the rest.” But after taking them, it didn’t help. She vomited more blood. She was breaking down. “Why isn’t it working?” Jax’s eyes were full of panic. “It shouldn’t be like this. You were fine in the last life. You shouldn’t be sick. It can’t be that the lucky charm was real…” Hearing this, Tang Wen’s face turned green. “What do you mean ‘shouldn’t be sick’? You said Xavier and his mom forged my records and drugged me. Was that all a guess? Jax, you idiot, you killed me!” She wanted to hit him but had no strength. Tang Wen was rushed to the hospital. The cancer expert shook his head. “Miss Tang has late-stage stomach cancer. If she took her meds, she could have lasted a while. But she stopped treatment and indulged in excesses. She has days left.” “I don’t want to die! What days left? Quack doctor! I lived a long life last time!” Tang Wen wanted to scream but could only whisper. She hated Jax, the stirrer. But she had no time to deal with him. Tang Wen gathered her strength and grabbed Mrs. Tang. “Mom, find Xavier. Make him give me luck. Only he can save me!” Mrs. Tang cried. “But he married Chloe. What do we do?” Tang Wen swore, “That doesn’t matter. He loves me obsessively. He won’t watch me die!”

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