Category: English

While accompanying my kid to a casting call, I was squatting by the road eating a boxed lunch from the crew when I ran into my ex-boyfriend, whom I hadn’t seen in six years. Suppressing his excitement, he looked at me with feigned indifference: “Chloe, didn’t you run away without even saying goodbye?” “Still so useless after six years? You even chased me here?” Liam Song is an internationally renowned director, and my former secret boyfriend. We had agreed to go public after I won the Magnolia Award. But backstage at the ceremony, someone drugged him. I rushed to save him, but amidst the chaos, countless reporters stormed in. Thinking I would do anything for the award, he cut ties with me in front of the cameras: “To be an artist, you must first have morals. Those who are shady and seek shortcuts don’t deserve to be called actors.” After that, I was blacklisted by every major award and became a pariah in the industry. Overwhelmed by cyberbullying and huge breach-of-contract penalties, I announced my retirement and left Beijing. I never expected to run into him again six years later on the set of Southern Trees. Looking at my silence, Liam pulled an outdated diamond ring from his pocket and threw it at my feet. “Pick it up and put it on. I can marry you.” 1 The diamond ring on the ground was one I had polished by hand 9,999 times six years ago, intending to propose to Liam. But when I left, I threw it in the trash. How did it end up in his hands? Seeing me stare at the ring in silence, his face darkened. His bro, looking exasperated, slapped him on the shoulder. “You finally found Chloe, why are you still acting tough? Forgot how you were practically suicidal trying to find her for six years?” Then he looked at me urgently: “Chloe, since you left without a word, Liam has been looking for you for six years.” “These six years, he missed you like crazy. He even created the movie Southern Trees for you.” “Why are you holding back? You schemed so hard back then, didn’t you just want to marry him today?” Scheming. Unscrupulous. These labels have stuck to me since the day I got involved with Liam. Director and actress—it sounds like a transaction ripe for gossip. Especially since he was a famous director and I was a no-name actor who hadn’t even reached the D-list. But Liam’s love was very presentable. Whenever his industry friends questioned my motives, he would righteously tell them: “Chloe and I are truly in love. One day, she will become the best actress in the country!” I held my breath back then too. My pride made me want to stand at the same height as him through my own efforts. For the next three years, I refused every resource Liam offered. The first thing I did every day was run to various film sets. I played corpses, I worked as a stand-in. Finally, in the fifth year, a villainous supporting role I played got scolded into viral fame. Excitedly, I went to find Liam to share my joy. But the moment I opened the door, I saw an impossibly beautiful woman holding his arm. “Chloe, let me introduce you. This is Wendy. She’s been developing her career abroad and just returned today.” The familiar room was filled with my favorite flowers and balloons, but all of it was to celebrate another woman’s return. That day, I suppressed my sadness and shared the cake I bought with them. After Wendy left, Liam mysteriously held up a confetti cannon. As confetti drifted down, he hugged me and sincerely congratulated me: “Chloe, congratulations. You’ve finally been seen.” Because I loved him, the gloom that tormented me all night was easily soothed by him. In the days that followed, I continued to hustle on sets. Everyone called me “Desperate Chloe.” But only I knew I wanted to stand beside Liam openly. Wendy, who had returned, was already somewhat famous and skyrocketed to stardom with her beauty. When she attended events with Liam, just standing together made fans scream “ship it.” But not me. If I got close to Liam, the internet would explode with “D-list actress tries to seduce famous director.” Liam wanted to go public out of anger at the comments, but I still had my pride. I stopped him, saying I didn’t care, and turned to work harder on my acting, sweeping up supporting actress awards. Two years later, when my agent recommended I audition for the lead in Liam’s movie, I cried tears of joy. I thought I finally earned the chance to stand with Liam. But at the audition, Wendy was there too. Her casual remark, “With Sister Chloe’s relationship with Liam, this lead role must be yours,” ruined everything. The disappointment in Liam’s eyes almost drowned me. That day, Liam kicked me off the set. We had the biggest fight of our eight-year relationship. 2 Although Liam explained later that he was afraid Wendy’s words would be heard by others and spread rumors disadvantageous to me. Because he knew how scared I was that people would attribute my efforts to nepotism. But I was still sad for a long time. I could see it. Back then, he almost instantly assumed I wanted to secure the lead role through our relationship. After all, everyone in the industry knew that being a “Liam Girl” could rocket a nobody to the A-list. After that, I turned down all scripts related to Liam and took a role in an arthouse film by another director. While I was disconnected filming, Wendy became the lead in Liam’s movie. Meanwhile, netizens dug up their childhood history, discovering their families had arranged a “baby engagement.” Overnight, the Liam-Wendy CP (couple pairing) took the internet by storm. By the time I finished filming, netizens had even photoshopped their wedding photos. When I confronted Liam, he was impatient: “Chloe, if Wendy and I liked each other, we would have been together long ago. Where would you fit in?” His attitude stabbed me like a knife. Increasingly panicked, I leaned against his chest, carefully asking for a promise. “Liam, when I win the Magnolia Award for Best Actress, let’s go public, okay?” I thought, once I’m Best Actress, I’ll be worthy of him. Liam agreed immediately without hesitation. My anxious heart was smoothed over. But soon, Wendy started appearing frequently in our chat logs. “Wendy’s understanding of the character matches mine perfectly. Filming with an actor like her is exhilarating!” “Wendy had an idea today that gave me instant inspiration.” Wendy, Wendy… It seemed without her, we had nothing to talk about. So I became silent. Liam didn’t notice; he was busy marveling at finding his muse. But Wendy noticed. She called me out and handed me a glass of water like we were chatting casually. “You’ve gotten enough from Liam. When do you plan to leave him?” This sentence erased all my efforts over the years. I trembled with rage. “Every role I got was through my own effort, nothing to do with Liam!” I spoke firmly, as if that could cancel out her humiliation. But she laughed disdainfully, like she heard a funny joke. “Sure, you and Liam haven’t gone public, but everyone in the circle is sharp. You think they don’t know about you two?” “Those scripts that came to you, dare you say they weren’t because of his face?” “Chloe, fooling others is fine, don’t end up fooling yourself…” Her words were a loud slap in my face. My straightened back could never straighten again. That night, I received an invite for a top-tier variety show. Liam was also invited. When I asked if he would go, he was on a call with Wendy discussing the script. He put down the phone, asking me in a weird tone: “Didn’t you say you didn’t want to appear with me? Or is your movie coming out and you want to leech off the hype?” I froze, then looked at him agitatedly: “Why would you think that of me? Did Wendy say something to you? She…” Liam interrupted me unhappily: “Enough, Chloe, it has nothing to do with her.” “If you want to use my fame, let’s just go public now. All this sneaking around is too troublesome.” Before, when he suggested going public, I refused but felt warm inside. Now, it felt like a poisoned needle, piercing my heart full of holes. 3 After saying that, he picked up his phone and continued discussing the script with Wendy. My agent and I declined the variety show invite. But the next day, “Chloe Suspected of Pursuing Director Song and Rejected” trended, hitting #1 instantly. The movie I was in capitalized on the hype, and the box office was ten times higher than expected. Later at a gathering, one of Liam’s friends toasted me: “Chloe, you’ve been with Brother Song for ten years, finally tasted the sweetness. Without that trending topic, how could your movie do so well?” As soon as he finished, Liam punched him. “Chloe’s success has nothing to do with me! Say that again if you dare!” A good gathering turned into a brawl. When I dragged him home, he wiped the blood from his mouth and asked meaningfully: “Heard you were nominated for the Magnolia with that movie?” I lowered my head to treat his hand, humming a “yes.” He scoffed, then kissed me recklessly. The taste of blood made me want to retch. After the kiss, he rubbed my swollen lips. “Chloe, if I weren’t a famous director, would you still be with me?” A sense of sadness and powerlessness wrapped around me. I wanted to ask: Liam, did you forget? When we got together, you weren’t a famous director yet. The Song family had been in business for generations. When they learned Liam wanted to direct, his father cut him off. All his early works were supported by my meager earnings from bit parts. But I couldn’t ask. Liam’s suspicion of me was a seed planted when Wendy appeared. Nothing I said could uproot it. I thought it was time to end this unequal love. Love is like building a house. Without trust, the foundation is unstable. No matter how glamorous it looks, it will collapse sooner or later. The day of the Magnolia Awards, I went backstage to find Liam. I wanted to tell him, win or lose, our promises were void. We’re breaking up. But when I found him, his face was flushed, breathing heavy—obviously drugged. The entertainment industry never lacks dirty tricks and hidden eyes. Worried someone was setting him up, I supported him to leave. But at the door, countless cameras stormed in, flashes blinding me. “Director Song, what is your relationship with Chloe? Is she really your secret girlfriend as rumored?” “Ms. Chloe, you’re competing with Wendy for Best Actress. Is exposing your relationship with Director Song a ploy to boost your chances?” Acting-wise, I was leagues ahead of Wendy. Traffic-wise, I wasn’t even a fraction of her. Everyone thought I directed this scene to suppress Wendy and win. Liam thought so too. He felt he was a tool for my ambition. I fulfilled his friends’ words: I was with him for profit. He pushed disheveled me away, eyes full of disappointment and disdain: “Chloe, for an award, you’d drug me and stage this?” I looked at him in shock: “Drug? I didn’t! Liam, I just…” “Enough! I don’t want to hear your excuses!” Liam pulled himself together, adjusting his clothes. He knew acting was my life’s pursuit, that any slander would destroy my efforts. Yet he faced the cameras, word by word: “I have no relationship with Chloe.” “To be an artist, you must first have morals. Those who are shady and seek shortcuts don’t deserve to be called actors.” With that, he left without looking back, leaving me to be crucified by reporters. Because of Liam’s “accusation,” I was removed from the Magnolia list, and contracts were cancelled. Crushed by debt and cyberbullying, the Film Association blacklisted me as a “tainted artist.” I became a rat crossing the street. I couldn’t stay in the country, fleeing abroad like a deserter. In six years, I cut ties with everything back home. I never thought accompanying my kid to an audition would bring me face to face with the person I never wanted to see again. Ignoring the ring, I tossed the lunch box and turned to leave. But Liam grabbed me. His face was pale, but a hidden panic was visible in his eyes: “Chloe, not even a word? Do you want to avoid me that much?” I sneered, pushing him away: “Liam, I don’t think we have anything to say. Stay away from me, unless you want the paparazzi to splash more dirty water on me.” Remembering six years ago, Liam’s face went white. He picked up the ring and held it in front of me. “Chloe, the past is past. Stop making a scene, put it on…” He tried to force the ring onto my finger. But the moment my hand opened, he froze. Staring dead at the pigeon-egg diamond on my ring finger. “This is…” Before he could finish, a little girl in a princess dress ran over. She stood between us, arms spread to protect me. “Bad man, let go of my mommy!” 4 A ring on the ring finger wasn’t enough to prove I was married. Liam simply thought it was fake, a prop. But the daughter raised the heart he had just put down. The diamond’s color was beautiful. Liam’s gaze moved over me, asking in disbelief: “You… married? And had a child?” “That diamond isn’t cheap. Did you marry for money…” I understood his implication. Years ago, he thought I drugged him for an award. Now he thought I married a nouveau riche for money. Without opening his eyes to see how beautiful my daughter is—her dad must be breathtaking. I picked up my daughter, looking at Liam with cold eyes. “I am married, but it’s not as dirty as you think.” “I’m not so poor I can’t afford a diamond.” His thoughts exposed, Liam’s fists clenched unnaturally. If you looked closely, you’d see his knuckles turn white under the trembling. Whenever Liam was embarrassed or breaking down internally, he did this. After so many years, his habit hadn’t changed. Only things have changed. I’m no longer the girl who cares about his feelings. I walked toward him with my daughter. His empty eyes colored instantly, but my next words hit him like a club. “Narrow path. Move.” Liam ignored it, staring at my daughter who looked like me, voice tight. “Is she really your daughter?” Impatience rising, I was about to speak when my daughter’s childish voice interrupted. “Uncle, we’re looking for Daddy. Can you move?” “And I am Mommy’s daughter. Asking like that is rude.” Two sentences made Liam’s eyes red. His voice raspy. “Chloe, you said you’d marry me. Why break your promise and have a child with someone else?” “Remember? You said if we had kids, boy or girl, the first one would be named Song Muqiao (Song adores Qiao).” “Do you remember…” I scoffed. “Liam, bringing up the past, is it fun? We broke up ages ago, didn’t we?” Something triggered him. He grabbed my shoulders excitedly, shouting. “We didn’t break up!” “You left without a word six years ago! I’ve been looking for you!” “Chloe, you abandoned me and had a child with another man. Did you consider my feelings?” Sensing my daughter’s fear, I shook off his hands and slapped him. “Are you crazy!” “Did you consider my feelings back then?” “One word from you can make or break a person.” “Liam, you destroyed me.” My words made Liam breathe fast, eyes flickering. Yes, how could he not know Director Song’s words could kill? After a long stalemate, Liam explained. “I was… angry at the time. I didn’t expect…” I smiled. “Didn’t expect what?” “Didn’t expect irrational fans doxxing me, sending razor blades? Didn’t expect being secretly filmed and pointed at whenever I went out? Or didn’t expect the overwhelming hate online?” “I almost died. See the scar on my wrist? I did that myself. The penalty fees were suffocating!” “What did I do wrong? Just loved an excellent director?” “Because of your angry words, everything I worked for was denied.” “Where does Director Song get the confidence to think I’d marry you after all that? Do you deserve it?” 5 Liam staggered, red eyes full of pain. Looking at me with guilt. “Chloe, I’m sorry… I didn’t know.” “I was too impulsive. Thinking you drugged me… I couldn’t control myself. Not verifying it in time was my fault.” “But when I understood everything, you were gone.” Liam cried as he spoke. He looked truly regretful. But I just wanted to laugh. He actually did it. “If you really felt sorry, why didn’t you clarify to the media after finding out?” “Afraid of damaging your reputation?” Liam is such a hypocrite. But in the adult world, there is no right or wrong, only interests. Then, Liam started talking about others’ difficulties. He wanted to clarify for me. But the girl who drugged him had a poor family. Sick parents, a brother in school. She was forced to do it, she needed money. If exposed, she’d have no future. And I had some achievements. Liam thought time would make people forget. “So? You want to say you had difficulties, and want me to praise your kindness?” My reaction was different from what he expected. He was speechless, at a loss. “Chloe, I’ll compensate you.” “I’ll clarify for you right now. I’ll give you whatever you want. I just beg you to forgive me.” Clarifying now is useless. I will never forget those pains. I looked at Liam coldly. “I don’t need it.” “Liam, do you know? For six years, seeing news about you made me want to vomit.” Liam’s eyelashes trembled, looking dazed. His head buzzed, blank. Seeing me leave, he snapped back. He reached out, but I dodged. Seeing my disgust, he withdrew his hand awkwardly. But he blocked the path completely. To pass, physical contact was unavoidable. I looked at him impatiently. Liam didn’t move. “Move!” Liam looked hurt, voice tight. “In such a hurry to find him?” “Is he better than me? Can he give you more?” “As long as you want, I have endless resources. Chloe, why not choose me?” I looked at him silently. Maybe guilty, he couldn’t meet my gaze and looked away. “Liam, when we were together, you weren’t a famous director. Likewise, I wouldn’t marry someone for resources.” “In those years, I fought for everything I wanted. Remember that. I never relied on you. Instead, in your poorest years, I supported your dreams.” No matter how many times I say it, he doesn’t believe it. Is it love or resources? He still doesn’t get it. This time, I was really annoyed. I shoved past him and left with my daughter. Smooth sailing. The only thing affecting my mood was Liam’s lingering scent and his gaze following us.

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I was the canary in the golden cage, handpicked by the billionaire heir Julian to tame his wild younger brother. My job? Love bombing him. Control Asher with “love,” stop him from street racing, fighting, and partying. It worked like a charm. I was raking in double salaries. Until the day I turned on the waterworks again. “Ash, please don’t race tonight. I’m so scared…” Asher just lit a cigarette, his expression bored. “Relax. Your man’s unbeatable.” I turned my head, dread pooling in my stomach, and saw the prize for tonight’s race. A girl in a white dress. Shit. My double income was toast. I silently pulled out my phone and drafted my resignation email to Asher’s brother. 1 Asher Sterling was a menace to society. His hobbies included: Sending people to the hospital via illegal street racing. Beating other rich kids to a pulp. Playing the field so hard that socialites were ripping each other’s hair out over him, causing PR nightmares for the Sterling Group. Because Asher was constantly trending for all the wrong reasons, the company stock was taking hits. Eventually, a secretary escorted me to meet the eldest son of the Sterling family. Julian Sterling sat with his long legs crossed, assessing me calmly. The secretary announced, “She’s the most beautiful hostess at The Sapphire Club.” After a long silence, Julian looked away, his slender fingers writing a check. The secretary handed it to me. I glanced at the number. Paused. Then I smiled. “Are you looking for a sugar baby?” The secretary explained, “It’s for the second young master.” Then came the instructions. Asher likes girls with long hair and white dresses. He hates girls who are too sharp or confrontational. He responds to softness, not hardness. When the briefing was over, Julian spoke his first words, his tone cold. “You’ll get this amount every month, deposited directly into your account.” He was certain I wouldn’t refuse. I fingered the check. After a moment, I gave Julian a brilliant smile. “Deal.” I really couldn’t refuse. 2 I was planted by Asher’s side. After he “saved” me for the third time, he looked down at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “We keep meeting like this, don’t we?” I lowered my head timidly. “I’m sorry to trouble you again.” Asher clicked his tongue, twirling a lock of my hair. “Being too pretty isn’t always a blessing. Why are you always getting bullied?” The night wind lifted the hem of my white dress. My long hair danced gently. My eyes reddened. After a long pause, I whispered, “I… I’m used to it. It’s been like this since I was little.” Asher froze. Just then, his friends stumbled out of the bar. “Ash, what are you doing in this dark alley?” One of them eyed me, reaching out to touch my face with a lecherous grin. “Where’d you find this beauty? So fresh.” Asher slapped the hand away, frowning. “Fuck off.” The others quickly smoothed things over. “You’re blind, man. She’s clearly with Ash.” Once they slunk away, tears spilled from my eyes. I grabbed Asher’s sleeve. He didn’t pull away. I looked up, meeting his gaze with trembling hope. “Because you’re here, they didn’t dare hurt me.” Asher wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. My lashes fluttered. I summoned my courage. “Do… do you have a girlfriend?” The night wind was cold. I shivered. Asher bent down and scooped me up effortlessly. He said casually, “Not right now. Don’t plan on having one later, either.” I stared at him blankly. Asher carried me toward his sports car parked at the intersection. Several eyes were on us. I buried my face in his chest, mumbling, “It’s okay. I… I don’t need a title.” My answer was within his expectations. After all, a young girl’s love and dependence are always so obvious and passionate. Asher smirked lazily, placed me in the passenger seat, and kissed me. “Cool.” 3 Everything went smoothly. In everyone’s eyes, I was beautiful, gentle, and oblivious to Asher’s wealth—just purely in love with him. I loved him so much I worried constantly. I didn’t want him racing or fighting because I was terrified for his safety. I didn’t want other girls around him because I loved him so much I was afraid he’d fall for someone else. But since I had no title, I couldn’t throw tantrums. I could only cry and beg him softly. Luckily, Asher seemed to like me enough. Whenever I cried, he caved. He behaved for a long time, shocking everyone. Asher took me shopping, to movies, on trips. We took photos, kissed, and slept together. His friends said he was a changed man. Julian must have been satisfied too; he tripled my salary. I became the canary in Asher’s hand, pampered and spoiled. Many saw me as the frontrunner to become the next Mrs. Sterling. Honestly, I didn’t know if Asher really cared or if I was just a novelty. But I knew one thing: Julian Sterling would never let a bottle girl from The Sapphire Club marry into the family. Even though I was brought to Julian on my first day. To elites like them, just being allowed into their circle was a privilege. I couldn’t—and didn’t deserve to—ask for more. So, when I was on the verge of tears again, begging Asher not to race… He just pulled out a cigarette, unbothered. “Relax. Your man’s unbeatable.” This was the first time, outside of the bedroom, that he refused me. My eyes reddened. “Ash.” Asher didn’t look at me again. He crushed the cigarette under his boot and walked toward his black sports car, which hadn’t been touched in months. His back was straight and tall. The crowd whistled excitedly. It had been a year since Asher raced. I had a premonition. I turned my head slowly. A girl in a white dress was being led by several men to the platform where the “prize” usually stood. She looked down uneasily, a picture of vulnerability. In that moment, I felt a mix of emotions. A socialite glanced at me, inspecting her manicure. “You were sick a few days ago and didn’t go to the bar with Asher. That girl was a hostess there, getting harassed. Asher saved her.” I blinked slowly. Processing the information. In those ten seconds, I wondered: Did Julian order a new custom canary for Asher? Impossible. Julian Sterling wasn’t sloppy. Besides… this girl looked scared but stubborn. She lacked my practiced affectation. I sighed, looking up at the sky sorrowfully. My eyes filled with tears—muscle memory at this point. But I was genuinely sad. My double salary was gone. Seeing my expression, the socialite scoffed. “You really forgot your place. This day was coming sooner or later.” I silently unlocked my phone. I googled “How to write a resignation letter.” I needed it to be professional yet poignant, maybe squeeze a severance package out of Julian. After all, I worked hard. 4 Asher won. The other racer crashed. Chaos erupted as the ambulance sirens grew louder. No one dared blame Asher, so they turned on the girl. “If anything happens to Caleb, you’re dead! Just wait.” The girl backed away, trembling. Asher sneered, blocking her. “Real brave, guys. What does this have to do with her?” I watched them for a few seconds. Then I walked over, took off the jacket Asher had draped over me earlier, and put it on the girl. I spoke softly. “It’s cold tonight. Don’t catch a chill.” Meeting Asher’s probing gaze, I smiled gently. “You helped me on a night just like this.” The girl stared at me, stunned. Then she looked at Asher. “Mr. Sterling, she is…” Asher didn’t answer. He just looked down, staring at me. Under his gaze, I couldn’t keep up the fake smile. I gave a bitter twitch of my lips. Because… Forget the severance package. After this mess, Julian might dock my pay for the month. Sigh… dock it if you must. I saved enough. Wait, what if they sue me for damages?! The thought terrified me. I looked increasingly distraught. The girl nervously clutched Asher’s shirt. “W-what’s wrong with her? Does she not like me…” Asher looked away from my face, comforting the girl calmly. “No. Don’t be scared.” I walked away, soul-crushed. Many people were watching, enjoying the show. They hadn’t expected my downfall to come so soon. Asher didn’t chase after me. The girl was sweating from fear, so Asher had someone take her to change. I was sweating too. I wiped my palms on my dress, opened my email, and sent the drafted resignation to Julian. The language was sincere, expressing gratitude for the opportunity and dedication to the job. Gotta cut ties before I get blamed! Just then, the manager of The Sapphire Club called. “Sunny, can you come in tomorrow? You left some stuff in your locker.” I paused. Right. “Okay.” After hanging up… I called a cab to the apartment I secretly bought. To maintain perfect skin and energy for Asher, I rarely stayed up late. Now that I was free… I took out my SIM card, curled up in bed, and doom-scrolled until dawn. I woke up the next evening, put in a new SIM card, threw on a T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, and went to The Sapphire Club bare-faced. It had been so long since I felt this relaxed. The manager was stunned for a second when she saw me, then took me to get my stuff. She didn’t ask questions. I grabbed my things, waved goodbye, and turned to leave. Then I heard a familiar voice. “Is this the place?” Magnetic, lazy. The girl whispered yes. The entourage chimed in. “Ash is so good, coming back to settle the score for the little lady. Those guys are screwed.” Asher looked at the manager. “Bring everyone who worked her shift.” I silently pulled a mask from my pocket, lowered my head, and tried to sneak away. “Sunny He?” Someone gasped. Seriously? You recognized me like this? I messed up my hair and shook my head. The manager seemed to sense my reluctance. She stepped forward, smiling. “Who is that? Young masters, ladies, let me show you to your private room.” I felt a surge of gratitude. The next second, my wrist was grabbed. Asher’s voice rang through the gilded lobby, brokering no argument. “Look up. Take off the mask.” I froze. But I didn’t move, staring at the floor, playing deaf. The room was dead silent. Until a weak voice cried out, “Ash, my stomach hurts.” A few seconds of stalemate. Asher let go of my hand and walked toward the girl. I walked out step by step, nerves taut. Terrified there was more to the script. Only when I was in the cab did it hit me. The scent of cedarwood on Asher had been replaced by a faint floral perfume. They must have spent a lot of time together… To smell like each other.

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Eight years into my marriage with Grant Hawthorne, he brought her back. Lacey Bloom. His high school sweetheart. The one that got away. Lacey was effortless. She possessed that wide-eyed, fragile charm that disarms people before they even realize they’ve been conquered. Despite drowning in debt, her “kindness” and “warmth” won over the entire Hawthorne dynasty in record time. My husband, the stoic CEO, softened around her, rekindling a romance that felt like it belonged on a movie screen. My own children, Bella and Leo, decided within weeks that this sweet, indulgent woman was far more suited to be their mother than I ever was. I wasn’t heartbroken. Actually, I was relieved. It meant the plot of this novel was finally concluding. 1 So, when my daughter stood before me, face twisted in bratty disdain, demanding I apologize to “Auntie Lacey,” I didn’t even look up. I just continued pruning the excess stems from the white hydrangeas in the vase. Snip. Snip. “Mom! If you don’t apologize, Leo and I aren’t going to acknowledge you as our mother anymore!” “Okay,” I said, my voice flat. “Then don’t.” I looked at the girl standing there—this child who was practically vibrating with entitlement. I felt nothing. I remembered nearly dying in labor to bring her into this world. I remembered the years I spent begging the best private tutors in Manhattan to teach her piano and French, giving her the skills to survive in this shark tank of a social circle. I remembered the nights I argued with Grant, fighting for her right to inherit company shares, not just a trust fund. I had given her everything. But since Lacey appeared, the narrative shifted. Lacey told them they were “just kids” and shouldn’t be crushed by expectations. She encouraged Bella to skip her lessons. Suddenly, Bella wasn’t practicing scales; she was shopping on Fifth Avenue with Lacey, racking up credit card bills. If this was the path she chose, I wouldn’t stop her. I was just the supporting character—the “cold wife”—in this book. My arc was over. The System had graded my performance, and soon, I’d be cashing out. Two weeks. That’s all I had left before the System extracted me back to the real world. I set the shears down and finally glanced at her. My eyes were empty. Bella flinched. A flicker of panic crossed her face. She wasn’t used to this. For her entire life, I had been the desperate, hovering mother. I had never just… rejected her. But the moment passed. She recovered her composure, lifting her chin to show off her new look. “Look at this,” she twirled, showing off a designer dress and a face full of makeup that was far too mature for her age. “Auntie Lacey bought me all of this. Isn’t it pretty?” “You never let me wear stuff like this,” she accused. “You said I was too young, that it was ‘tacky.’ You made me study until I cried. You hit my hands when I played the wrong notes. You treated me like a trophy, Mom. You never gave me any dignity!” I almost laughed. Dignity. Those were Lacey’s words, parroted by a child. I was afraid Bella would be eaten alive by this family if she wasn’t sharp, if she wasn’t impressive. So I taught her how to walk, how to talk, how to wield power. And in return, two gifts from Lacey were enough to erase eight years of maternal sacrifice. Did she have any idea what I had poured into her? Seeing my silence, Bella stomped her foot. “You don’t actually love me!” “Auntie Lacey is the one who loves me. She doesn’t wake me up at 6:00 AM for vocabulary drills. She buys me clothes, reads me stories, takes me to Six Flags! She’s a thousand times better than you!” She grabbed a vase from the console table and smashed it on the floor. “Daddy already said he’s going to marry Lacey! He’s going to divorce you soon!” She stormed out, leaving me alone in the shattering silence. Even though I had one foot out the door, her words left a bitter aftertaste. Is the Protagonist Halo really that blinding? Does it rewrite history? Does it make all my discipline look like abuse and all her negligence look like love? Or is it just because I’m the villainess? Is everything I do inherently wrong? When Grant first brought Lacey home, I didn’t care. Then the affair started. I realized that for eight years, I was just a placeholder. A shadow of the Golden Girl. The Hawthorne family, notoriously cold, melted for her. My children, exhausted by my high standards, flocked to her easy, sugar-coated parenting. Grant used to respect me. But the moment Lacey moved in, chaos followed. She got “food poisoning.” She “accidentally” fell into the pool. She had allergic reactions. Every single time, the evidence pointed to me. Grant tore my room apart, threatening divorce if I didn’t beg for her forgiveness. I snapped and called her a homewrecker. Grant slapped me. Hard. I fell into the shards of a broken vase. The glass sliced through my legs. Blood soaked the carpet. Even after bandaging it, the throbbing pain kept me awake all night. This morning, I had dragged myself out of bed just to arrange some flowers, seeking a moment of peace. Then Bella stormed in. Now, the pain in my legs was excruciating. The System was offline. The medical kit I bought from the System Store had been used up on Grant and the kids over the years. The housekeeper who raised me was fired by Grant last week. He had forbidden anyone from driving me to the hospital. The only person allowed in my room was Amber, Lacey’s personal maid. The “medicine” she brought looked suspicious, so I didn’t touch it. I felt like a ghost haunting my own house. It was past noon, and no one had brought me food. I dug through a drawer and found a cheap, tarnished ring. I sighed, turning it over in my fingers. Finally, lunch arrived. It was meager, but I wasn’t picky. I took one bite and immediately spat it out. Nutmeg. The entire staff knew I was deathly allergic to nutmeg. Lacey knew. As I was about to tell the maid to take it away, the door burst open. Grant stormed in, looking like a vengeful god in a bespoke suit. He kicked the side table over, sending the tray crashing. “You tried to kill Lacey,” he seethed, his jaw tight. “I told you to apologize, and instead, you sit here in your high tower, throwing away the food she asked the kitchen to make for you? Is there no end to your malice, Vivian?” I lay back on the pillows, looking at him with absolute exhaustion. Grant lunged, his hand closing around my throat. “Why is it so hard for you to just listen?” Eight years. I played my role perfectly. I was the devoted wife, the strict but loving mother. If they had accepted me, I could have stayed. I wanted to stay. Before the heroine arrived, I really tried. But now… I shook my head, a sad smile touching my lips. I looked at the man who used to hold me while I slept. “Grant,” I whispered. “I’ve told you. I didn’t hurt her. It’s a performance. She’s staging it all.” His grip loosened slightly, his eyes wavering. “You have cameras everywhere,” I rasped. “If you wanted the truth, you’d check the footage. But you don’t want the truth. You’re just bored of me.” “Since you’ve already decided I’m guilty, what difference does an apology make?” He stared at me, stunned. For a second, the anger vanished, replaced by something that looked like pain. He let go of my neck. Then, the narrative took hold again. He hardened. “I thought you loved me. I thought you were different. But you’re just jealous. You’re toxic.” “Lacey is an angel. How could you hurt her?” He stood up, straightening his cuffs. “From now on, no one gives Mrs. Hawthorne any medication. And she doesn’t leave this room until she crawls to Lacey and begs for forgiveness.” He waited for me to cry, to beg. I just stared at the ceiling. He left. The air in the room felt heavy. Amber, Lacey’s maid, started cleaning up the spilled porridge. “Oh, Madam, why did you spit it out? You need to eat to heal.” She smirked, her voice dripping with faux concern. “You probably don’t know, since you’re stuck in here… but yesterday, little Leo called Miss Lacey ‘Mommy’ in the garden.” “It’s a shame. You worked so hard, and now your kids hate you. You really failed as a mother, didn’t you?” She glanced at my bandaged knees. “I heard the bone might be infected. Without antibiotics… you might never walk again.” I laughed, a dry, rasping sound. “I am Mrs. Grant Hawthorne. I am the daughter of the Ross dynasty. Who are you? You’re just the help, Amber. Don’t speak above your station.” I ignored the hate in her eyes and adjusted my legs, wincing. Amber glared at me and stormed out. I lay there, wondering if I would survive until the System returned. If I died of sepsis or starvation before the transfer, would I still get to go home? A week passed. The food became sporadic—sometimes stale bread, sometimes nothing. I didn’t dare eat it. I managed to bribe a young maid, Sarah, whom I had helped years ago, to sneak me packaged crackers and bottled water. Days later, just as the System was initiating the countdown, Lacey burst in, interrupting the sequence. She had an entourage of staff. She looked down at me, her face glowing with triumph. “Vivian, darling. I wish I could help you, but my leg still hurts,” she pouted. Then she wrinkled her nose. “God, it smells in here. How are the maids cleaning this place? If Grant knew…” She giggled. “But then again, Grant won’t even let you go to the hospital. Why would he care if your room stinks? Right, Vivian?” Behind her, I saw Bella and Leo. They were clinging to Lacey’s dress, looking at me with a mixture of disgust and confusion. Bella stepped forward. “Mom, Auntie Lacey just wants a sincere apology. Why are you being so stubborn? Who are you performing for? You hurt her!” Leo, his face rounder than I remembered, scowled. “Yeah. You’re evil, Mom.” Evil. I almost laughed. Leo had impulse control issues. I spent a fortune on behavioral therapists to teach him boundaries. I watched his diet because of his health risks. Now? Lacey was stuffing him with cupcakes and letting him run wild. He looked like a balloon about to pop. “You came here to brag?” I asked, my voice weak but steady. “I didn’t expect you to be so heartless,” Lacey sighed. “Your own children reject you, and you don’t even cry.” I looked at my kids. “I gave you the best of everything from the moment you were born. But if you don’t want it, I won’t force it. You want Lacey to be your mother? Fine. I won’t fight for custody. She’s yours.” Bella and Leo froze. They stared at me, eyes wide. They never expected me to let go. Bella’s lip trembled. Lacey signaled the maid. “Don’t worry, kids,” the maid whispered loudly. “She’s just manipulating you. She’s playing mind games. She’ll be begging for your love in a few days. Do you want to go back to piano lessons and homework?” Leo snorted. “She’s faking it. Dad was right. You’re just pretending to be nice. I hope you never talk to us again!” He stuck his tongue out and dragged Bella away. “Happy now?” I asked Lacey. Lacey sat on the edge of my bed, leaning in close. “Happy?” she whispered. “This isn’t enough. I want you out on the street.” Before she finished the sentence, she screamed and threw herself backward, landing perfectly in the arms of Grant, who had just walked in. Oscar-worthy. Grant didn’t think. He raised his hand to strike me. I flinched, shielding my head. He froze, looking at my cowering form, then at his own hand. “She… she pushed me!” Lacey sobbed. Grant’s face hardened. “Lock her on the terrace. The unheated one. One day and one night. On her knees. No food. Anyone who helps her gets fired.” He paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his eyes. “Vivian… if you apologize to Lacey, I might…” “I accept,” I cut him off. “I’ll go to the terrace.” The System would be back in 24 hours. I didn’t need to play the game anymore. “Don’t regret this,” Grant growled, his face pale. “I won’t.” He carried Lacey out. Amber laughed as she followed. “It’s freezing tonight, Madam. I hope you survive the wind.” I put on my down jacket, grabbed the tarnished ring from the nightstand, and walked to the terrace. It was colder than I imagined. The wind off the Atlantic cut through the glass. My knees were on fire, then they went numb. Hours later, I heard whispering at the service door. “Madam? Can you hear us?” It was Sarah and her sister, Lily. “Stop crying,” I managed to say, my teeth chattering. “I’m not dead yet. Go, before Lacey sees you.” “We brought bread and hot water,” Sarah sobbed, sliding it through the crack. I ate ravenously. “Don’t come back. Take the gold bracelets in my nightstand drawer. Split them between you.” “But Madam…” “I have a plan,” I lied. “I’m leaving Grant. I’ll be fine.” They left, weeping. I started to drift. The cold wasn’t painful anymore; it was like a heavy blanket. Finally, the voice in my head returned. “Payment secured! Host, click confirm to…” The System paused. “Holy sht. Host, you’re dying.”* “Took you long enough,” I thought, my consciousness fading. “Hold on! Extracting you from the narrative now. 5… 4… 3…” BAM. The terrace door was kicked open.

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3 AM. The pet camera in the living room suddenly spoke. “Mimi is having fun!” “Mimi is having fun!” This is the automated alert the camera sends when it detects the cat’s movement. But my blood ran cold. Because the kitten was in the corner of my bedroom, watching me quietly. The thing outside… wasn’t my cat. 1 The camera stubbornly continued its broadcast. “Mimi is having fun…” “Mimi is having fun…” … The gentle female voice sounded exceptionally terrifying in the silent night. Since 9 PM, the power in the apartment had been out. No notice from property management. The repairman hadn’t shown up. With my severe nearsightedness, darkness meant blindness. Stripped of any sense of security, I dared not move. Faced with this eerie scene, my first instinct was to play dead. I lay stiff on the bed. Eyes fixed on the closed bedroom door. Praying it was just a glitch. Sure enough. The voice in the living room paused for a few seconds, then fell silent. Like it was just a hallucination. My hands tingled with relief. By the moonlight. I reached out to the kitten in the corner, signaling it to come to me. But this time, the kitten didn’t move. It stayed frozen, staring at the closed bedroom door. And meowed. “Meow~” The next second. A knock on the bedroom door. Thud. Thud thud. My scalp went numb. Every nerve snapped tight. A raspy voice drifted through the crack. “What a cute kitty…” “I knew you were in there.” Someone broke in. The thought hit me, and I shivered violently. Terrified, I scrambled out of bed. The cat was too far; I couldn’t grab it. I reached for my phone to call 911. Only to find that because the cat chewed through the charger last night, I had 3% battery left. The moment the screen lit up. It dropped to 1%. The next second. “Shutting down in 30 seconds.” And just then. The phone froze on the camera feed interface. A face beyond recognition. Because he was pressed right up against the lens. I could see clearly. Countless burns and scratches crisscrossed that face. A pair of bloodshot eyes stared deathly at the screen. As if he knew I was watching him from the other side. He opened a bloody mouth and grinned menacingly at me. I shook uncontrollably. Hiding in the closet, I frantically swiped the back button. Trying to make that life-saving call. But I failed. The screen went black. As the last light in the closet died. The knocking stopped. The next second. A metallic scrape against the doorknob. Bang. A heavy thud blossomed on the door. One. Two. … 2 I shivered in the closet. I knew clearly. The bedroom door was just flimsy plywood. He’d break through in minutes. The kitten in the corner didn’t seem to understand the danger. Still meowing at the banging door. I screamed internally: Mimi, Mimi, stop meowing, stop meowing. If he finds you, you really won’t survive. Before I could react. Through the crack, I saw. A large hole chopped through the bedroom door. A withered, grotesque hand reached in. Easily unlocking the door. A dark figure stumbled toward the kitten in the corner. The kitten, sensing no danger, meowed softly at the shadow. I covered my mouth. Watching the impending horror, eyes splitting with rage. Tears fell uncontrollably. I prayed for a shred of humanity in this person. But I saw the bloodstained machete in his hand. Raised high against the moonlight. And brought down viciously. Squelch. The sound of flesh being mercilessly split in two. Through the closet crack. A drop of blood splashed onto my face. Running down with my tears. I never dreamed the kitten I adopted a month ago… Would be butchered like this. Back turned to me. The figure in black hacked tirelessly. Again and again, like chopping ribs. Venting on the kitten’s corpse. Seeing the maniac immersed in the thrill of slaughter. I knew this was my chance. I covered my mouth, forcing silence. Gently pushed the closet door open. In despair, only one thought remained. Run! Suppressing my pounding heart. I ran to the bedroom door. But couldn’t help glancing back. In the pile of gore. Mimi’s little head looked at me despairingly. When our eyes met, it hadn’t died yet. Gasping “huk huk” from its torn throat. It still wanted to call to me. 3 Tears rained down. Anger mixed with confusion. I’d never seen this person. Never had a grudge with such a lunatic. Why chase me into my home to kill me? Not even sparing an innocent cat! Thinking this, I tiptoed into the living room. My hand touched the front doorknob. The next second, I was yanked back by my hair and thrown to the ground. Sharp pain in my chest. A foot stomped hard on my ribs. I struggled to open my eyes. Blood covered my face from the impact, blurring my vision. I could only see a grotesque man looming over me. Face long and sharp. Scars crawling all over, twisted and mad. “Say goodbye to your slut cat!” A hollow-eyed kitten head appeared before me. The man wore a smile of ultimate excitement, like he’d done something great. He raised the cat head. And threw it in my face. Mimi was a two-month-old kitten I adopted last month. Her mom was a stray in the complex. Gentle personality. Often fed by residents. There were many neutered strays in the complex. But for some reason. Since last month. The strays vanished overnight. Gone without a trace. At first, we thought property management took them away. But no notice, no admission. Until one day. In the gazebo where Mimi’s mom often hung out. A neighbor found a mangled cat corpse. Then a second, a third. Every stray was found dead in its favorite spot. Cruelly butchered. Pregnant cats cut open alive. Unborn fetuses lined up. Spelling out words. “SLUT CAT”!!! And now, I felt my fate would be no different. The next second. The machete swung ruthlessly at my face. 4 Gasping in despair. I opened my eyes. The familiar sound rang out. The eerie electronic broadcast: “Mimi is having fun—” My pupils dilated. I was back to one minute before the break-in. The fear of death reoccupied my brain. Looking at Mimi in the corner. I scooped her up without hesitation. Last time, Mimi’s meow led the killer to my room. If she stays quiet this time. Maybe I can stall. My apartment has three rooms. The other two are locked for easier cleaning. If I lock the bedroom too. The killer can’t instantly tell which room I’m in from three identical doors. My spare charger is in the living room corner. Maybe I can gamble. Bet he doesn’t break my door first. Slip out while he’s busy, grab the charger, rush out with Mimi and a power bank to charge. And call the police. Thinking this, I tried to steady my breathing. Gently opened the closet, put the kitten inside. Ensuring the closet door muffles any sound. Keeping everything silent in this quiet home. In the farthest room, I accidentally left a Bluetooth speaker. Now it came in handy. Last 3% battery. I turned off the camera feed early. Quickly connected to the Bluetooth. Started playing Love Trading at max volume. “Love isn’t something you want to buy!!!” “Buy if you can buy!!!” “Let me open my eyes!!!” “Let me understand!!!” “Let go of your love~~~” … The deafening music filled the house. Mustering courage. I cracked the bedroom door open. Sure enough. The intense music drew the killer’s full attention. Covering his ears. He rushed to that room with his knife. Hacking at the door. Bang bang bang. Deep breath. Now! I opened the closet, grabbed the cat and the power bank, and sprinted to the living room corner. Luckily. The blackout hid my movements. Until I pulled the cable from the drawer. I felt my whole body relax. Behind me, the killer hacked tirelessly at the bedroom door (Note: The text says bedroom door here, but context implies the dummy room door. Assuming dummy room based on plan). Oblivious to me opening the front door. I pressed the handle, opened the door, and rushed out. The next second. A sharp knife slammed into my chest. Mimi in my arms was pierced through the belly. Blood sprayed. Splattering my face. “Stupid bitch, thought you were smart?” So. There was more than one killer. The man in front of me twisted the knife with a grin. Mimi’s body was skewered. He swung his arm, flinging her against the wall. She fell heavily, shattered. Tears streamed down my face. Too scared to even cry out loud. The killer shouted into the house. “Stop chopping, the slut cat ran out again!” The killer inside broke through the door. Turned off the speaker. In the pitch-black night, only my gasping breath remained. And the weak mewling of the dying kitten. “Why…” “Why do this to me…” Legs weak. I knelt, holding the kitten’s corpse, breaking down. Witnessing its death twice. Experiencing my own death twice. My nerves were snapping. I wailed like a madwoman. The killer wasted no words. Grabbed my hair, yanked my head back, exposing my neck. And stabbed viciously again.

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My twin sister and I were both “canaries” for Julian Gu for five years. She handled the bedroom, I handled the cash. A clear division of labor. After graduating college, my sister, unable to take her hands off a male model’s eight-pack abs at a bar, suddenly asked: “Sis, who’s going to the wedding? You or me?” I casually picked up the dice nearby: “High roll wins. Loser goes!” Before we could determine the winner, Julian’s voice rang out behind us: “Bro, how’s my canary?” “Just so-so.” Looking at two identical faces, my sister and I were stunned. In unison, we asked: “Wait, which one is your sugar daddy???” 1 We both squinted suspiciously at the VIP booth, whispering: “The one on the right?” “The one on the left?” I asked again, “Didn’t you sleep with Julian? You can’t tell them apart?” “I don’t look at his face when we sleep. Unless he takes his pants off.” My sister rubbed her chin, frowning. “Besides, they look exactly the same!” It was indeed a difficult puzzle. Before we could figure it out, we saw Julian smirk, his tone playful: “Bro, who’s going to the wedding? You or me?” His twin brother paused imperceptibly, then slowly picked up the dice on the table: “High roll wins. Winner goes!” “Deal.” Julian raised an eyebrow, also picking up a dice cup and shaking it. The booth erupted in jeers: “Second Young Master Gu, you better try hard. Roll a one and you’ll be the groom!” “Why don’t you both go? Real-life The Prince and the Pauper.” “Imagine Chloe’s face at the wedding if she knew she’s been passed between you two for the last two years…” The woman sitting in Julian’s lap covered her mouth and giggled, “That Chloe is so lucky. Having both Gu brothers fight over her, I’m almost envious.” This mocking remark instantly made everyone laugh. Julian took a sip of his drink, lifted her chin with a finger, and fed her the wine from his mouth, chuckling: “Why, want both of us to service you too?” The woman melted into a puddle in his arms, coquettishly saying: “No way, I only like Second Young Master Gu.” My sister and I exchanged a look. We both saw disgust in each other’s eyes. And a flash of loneliness in hers. 2 “Bro, you lost.” The dice cup opened. Julian rolled a six. He wasn’t mad. He looked at the woman in his arms and smiled: “The little girl wants to see the aurora borealis. I’ll take her.” “The wedding is in five days. You’ll have to work hard for a bit longer. I’ll definitely be back before the ceremony.” Adrian Gu nodded indifferently. A while later, a few guys clamored about going racing. Julian instinctively joked: “Losers better give me a big red envelope on the wedding day. Chloe loves counting money.” No one sensed anything wrong. They all laughed and agreed: “Don’t worry, we’re ready.” “Reliable. Let’s go. Bro, you coming?” Julian asked suddenly. Saying that, the group got up to leave. Only Adrian sat there dazing. Hearing Julian, he shook his head belatedly: “I’ll pass. Gotta go back and act.” Act what? Everyone knew. After Adrian left too, my sister and I poked our heads out, both sighing in relief. Looking at the dice cup on the table, we were debating who would go to the wedding. Now it seemed unnecessary. After comparing notes, we quickly distinguished who was who. The chatty playboy was the younger brother, Julian. The gentle, shy one was the older brother, Adrian. “Economy’s bad. This side gig is probably over,” my sister said. I pondered for a moment and proposed: “Runaway bride?” My sister nodded: “You run, I run.” 3 That night, we split up. She went for a health checkup; I went back to pack our loot. On the way back, I contacted a classmate back home to rent a detached villa and booked train tickets for five days later. The same day as the wedding. When I got home, I bumped right into Adrian. He had just showered, a towel around his waist, hair dripping, sitting on the bed playing with a small box. Seeing me, he curled his finger. I walked over. The next second, he pulled me into a tight embrace, resting his head on my chest. A cold ring slid onto my left ring finger. He then took my right hand, kissed the ring finger, and smiled: “Babe, we’re getting married in five days.” “I’ll put the world’s most beautiful pink diamond right here, okay?” I suppressed the heaviness in my heart, nodded randomly, and didn’t speak. He reached out, wanting to hug me. The phone on the nightstand suddenly rang. Seeing the name, his expression changed slightly. After answering and saying “okay,” he hung up. I asked: “Going out?” He stood up, kissed my forehead, voice gentle: “Something came up at the company. I need to handle it. You be good, sleep first, don’t wait for me.” Then he went back into the bathroom to dry his hair. The phone rang twice more. I picked it up and entered the password. For the act, both brothers used my birthday as their password. But they knew I wouldn’t snoop. This was the first time, and would be the last. Two messages from someone named “Little Wan”: “Brother Adrian, heard you’re marrying Chloe. How could I miss such a good show?” “I’m back. Come pick me up. Waiting for you~” Little Wan… I muttered the name. A name popped into my head. Sierra Wan. The Princess of Beijing. Julian’s childhood sweetheart, pampered by him since youth, obeyed in everything. Went abroad after high school. So that’s it. Adrian came out fully dressed. Seeing me in bed, he pressed down on me: “Babe, I’m leaving.” I forced a smile: “Mmh.” “Did you forget something?” He stared at my lips, smiling. I lifted my head, a peck like a dragonfly skimming water. Satisfied, he kissed me again and again, reluctantly, before pushing himself up: “Sleep well. I’ll be back when I’m done.” The roar of a car engine faded downstairs. I wiped my mouth, like wiping off dirt. Then I rolled out of bed. Sleep? Hell no. I haven’t packed the bags and jewelry in the closet yet. Opportunity knocks but once. Have to say, Julian and Adrian were generous. Limited edition bags, jade, diamond necklaces. Looking at the imperial green jade egg, I drooled. Take it. Take it all. 4 While packing, I found the red marriage contract again. Opened it. The handwriting inside was crooked. I spread it on the floor, expressionless, and crossed out my name with a pen. I needed to remind myself. Relationships are like this. Once cracked, no matter how you fix it, it can never return to the start. Packed up, I put the contract back in the safe. That’s where Adrian kept his most precious things. Suddenly, a box caught my eye. Possessed, I took it out. Letters. No address. Just four words on the envelope: For Sierra, Personally. “Sierra, is New York treating you well? Are you well?” “Heard you cried over your thesis. My Sierra, don’t cry. Your beautiful eyes should only shed happy tears.” “The pink diamond you like, I found it for you.” “You said you wanted a wedding dress full of stars. I designed it.” “When you wear that dress, I should be the first to hold your hand.” “Sierra, I miss you. I lied, I didn’t want to force you back.” Reading these, I suddenly felt that marriage contract was the ultimate irony. Just as I was putting the letters back. My sister sent three screenshots. In the photo, a girl holding roses. A man kneeling on one knee with a ring box. I stared at that kneeling back for a long time. When Adrian left. He was wearing that suit. Two more photos of diamond rings. Breathtakingly beautiful. Caption: “Sisters, pink or white diamond? I think white is ugly.” “No accidents, no new guys. Childhood sweetheart proposed with a pink diamond! Congratulate me!” Looking at the ring on my finger, I laughed until tears almost fell. Took it off, placed it on the marriage contract. I searched for that Weibo post, looked at it for a while, liked it, and commented: [Congrats.] Adrian’s message came right then: [Babe, too much work. Not coming back tonight. Love you.] The man who just proposed to someone else was now calling me babe and saying he loved me as if nothing happened. I suddenly wanted to ask him. Adrian, aren’t you tired of acting so deep? But I held back, deleted the text, and replied simply: [Okay.]

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I used a brand-new iPhone to reel in the legendary heir of the NYC elite. The day I bought the latest iPhone, a man so gorgeous it felt excessive walked straight up to me in the Apple Store and asked if he could borrow my phone to shoot a video. He took my phone, looked into the camera, and said with an embarrassingly self-conscious smirk, “OMG, thank you, babe, for the brand-new iPhone 15 Pro Max!” His voice was so over-the-top affected—so much vocal fry—I felt like I could excavate a castle with the cringe on the soles of my feet. The entire store went silent for a beat. Then, he cleared his throat and continued his performance for the front-facing camera. “It’s three PM, time for my totally low-key, humble brag.” “The new natural titanium finish? It’s whatever. A phone that costs a couple thousand? Totally average for me.” “That’s it for today. In a few days, I’ll show you the new car my darling bought me.” “Try not to be too jealous. Some of you trying to bag a sugar mama need to check your reflection before you try to play this game.” 1 The moment he finished, the silence in the store lasted exactly half a second. Then, the place erupted in laughter and chatter. “Seriously? That’s the bar for flexing now? Borrowing someone else’s phone?” “‘A couple thousand.’ That’s like, a week’s worth of his groceries, not a car.” “A sugar mama? Does he even know that girl he just borrowed the phone from?” My best friend, Willow, covered her face, mortified. “Sasha, I told you! He was clearly a weirdo. I said not to lend it to him, but you just had to be stubborn.” The ridiculously handsome guy finished the video, handed my phone back, and looked slightly sheepish. “Thank you. You really saved me.” The mocking laughter around us was sharp. I watched him try to maintain a façade of cool confidence, and I felt a strange mix of pity and amusement. On an impulse, the words just tumbled out. “How about I buy you a phone? That way, you won’t have to beg for a loan everywhere you go.” I added, “It looks like you really need it.” He froze, then a wide, bright smile spread across his face. “I don’t need one now. But can I get your number? Or, better yet, let’s exchange Instagram handles. I’ll treat you to dinner next time to thank you for lending it to me.” I was about to nod, but Willow tugged on my arm again, lowering her voice. “Don’t! Guys like that—thick-skinned, too good-looking—they’re the worst kind of players. Be careful he doesn’t latch onto you!” I just smiled and accepted his follow request. Willow didn’t know. That man was Rhys Beckett—the one and only heir to the Beckett Group, the legendary “Prince” of the NYC elite, the one who was never seen. And I had been watching him for a long time. In a private lounge at an exclusive Soho club, Rhys Beckett tossed his phone onto the table with a groan of disgust. “Whose idea was that dare? Making me go to the Apple Store to flex? And that script—I’ve never been so humiliated in my entire life!” His pack of privileged friends doubled over with laughter. “Hey, you lost the bet, man! Preston had to hug an elevator pole in the mall and scream ‘Mommy’ for five minutes. You’re even.” “Come on, let us see the video!” They immediately swarmed around him. “Hahaha, Rhys, your face! It’s the perfect blend of arrogance and deep-seated shame! I want to punch you and hug you at the same time!” “Wait… who’s the girl who lent you the phone? She’s genuinely gorgeous. Great style.” Rhys’s ears quietly flushed red. He unconsciously rubbed his thumb over the rim of his glass. “Just some kind stranger passing by. There were so many people there, and she was the only one who actually helped.” “Ohhh—” The group immediately scented gossip. “Our man Rhys is… finally coming out of hibernation?” Rhys shot them a glare, pulling up the empty chat screen with me. He grumbled good-naturedly, “Get lost, all of you. Stop talking nonsense.” A week ago, I was Sasha Miller, the most prized protégé of Marcus Shaw, the East Coast’s foremost architectural and design master, and the internal successor to his prestigious studio. Now, I was a disgraced traitor, publicly cast out by my mentor, with my name blacklisted across the entire industry. All because he found his “true muse”—Delaney. Today was the final deadline for me to move out of the studio apartment. I silently packed my sketchbooks and tools, dragging my suitcase toward the door. Delaney blocked my way, arms crossed, a picture of haughty entitlement. “Stop right there. You are not taking anything that belongs to Master Shaw.” As she spoke, she brutally yanked open my suitcase, scattering years of accumulated design sketches, my framed award certificates, even the professional books I had bought myself, and my savings statements—everything I had. All that was left inside were a few changes of clothes. “The money in those accounts, I saved myself, penny by penny. Why can’t I take my own savings?” I demanded. “You only rose to prominence on the strength of Master Shaw’s name. You have no real talent on your own. You have no right to take anything associated with this place.” I looked toward the far sofa. My former mentor, Marcus Shaw, was sitting there, watching the scene with cold indifference, completely silent. Grant, the senior apprentice who had always looked out for me, was now solicitously handing Delaney a bottle of water, acting as if I were invisible. The humiliation was a suffocating tide. I knelt down, quietly repacking the clothes, tossing the savings statements aside, and then stood up, giving them one last look. Let them have the statements for now. It’s not like they could actually withdraw the funds. I moved into Willow’s guest room. Willow helped me make the bed, trying to reassure me. “It’s fine, Sash. Staying here is great. That crappy studio? Good riddance!” I knew this was only temporary. Willow always called me naïve, but she didn’t understand. Someone who has been violently dragged from the clouds into the mud can’t afford to be naïve anymore. I had a low, burning knot of fury in my stomach. I would make Marcus Shaw and Delaney pay. Running into Rhys Beckett at the Apple Store might be my only way forward. He had just returned from abroad and hadn’t been completely tainted by the muck of this circle yet. I had my looks and my years of social networking experience. That was all the capital I had left. Two days later, Rhys finally texted me. [I still owe you that dinner. Are you free tonight?] Watching the notification pop up, the corner of my mouth slowly curled into a wider smile. [The new Italian place on Madison Avenue. Seven PM. Don’t be late.] When I walked into the restaurant, I immediately sensed the strange atmosphere. Some people were pretending to study their menus, but their eyes kept flicking over to me. Others held up their phones, pretending to take selfies, but their cameras were clearly aimed in my direction. Rhys was already waiting at a window table. He saw me enter and gave an awkward little cough. His friends immediately snapped back to attention, pretending nothing had happened. And Rhys’s ears, once again, were crimson. I instantly realized that these were probably his gawking, gossipy friends. I calmly sat down across from him. Tonight, I had deliberately worn a simple black cocktail dress I designed myself. The cut was minimalist, but the details—a subtle drape here, a sharp angle there—showcased my skill, perfectly outlining my figure without being ostentatious. “I never got your name,” I started, breaking the silence. Rhys seemed a little nervous, clearing his throat. “It’s R. J. Beckett. R for Rhys, J for… well, just J.” I extended my hand, smiling warmly. “I’m Sasha Miller.” His fingertips were warm. The moment they touched mine, he pulled back as if he’d been shocked by an electric current. Rhys tried to maintain his ‘cool playboy’ posture, but his earlobes, red enough to bleed, completely betrayed him. Muffled snickers occasionally drifted from the surrounding tables. I watched his face deepen in color, the blush spreading down his neck. It looked like I had chosen the right person for dinner. He was far more innocent than I had anticipated. After dinner, we said goodbye. I stood outside the restaurant, waiting for a ride, and faintly heard Rhys’s low, furious roar from inside: “Who told you guys to follow me? Huh? All of you acting like spotlights, get out!” I waited a long time for a ride on the curb. Before, I always had a private car arranged by the studio. The jarring drop in my lifestyle was never more obvious than right now. I wondered if Delaney was enjoying the perks that should have been mine. Suddenly, the sky opened up, and the rain came down in sheets. I was quickly soaked to the bone. When I got back to Willow’s place, she rushed over with a dry towel. “What happened to you? It’s pouring, why didn’t you find shelter?” “Are you okay?” she asked, concern etched on her face. My nose stung, and I nearly burst into tears, but I held it in. I’d lived a privileged life for two decades, and in the end, the only things that truly belonged to me were my best friend, a bank account with a dwindling balance, and the resolve of a twenty-something on the brink. After that night, Rhys started texting me constantly. He shared all the mundane details of his life. [I got dragged to some boring gala. I’d rather be at a gallery with you. Can I see you again soon?] In the photo he sent, I saw Delaney. She was wearing a gown based on one of my archived sketches, beaming as Marcus Shaw introduced her to various industry bigwigs. She looked triumphant. The gala was excessively lavish. Rhys hadn’t intentionally focused the camera, just zoomed out a little. [My feet are killing me standing around here.] I understood his subtext and replied gently: [I thought you were really tall at the Apple Store. Over six-one, right?] [Six-three. I’m an actual six-three.] I could almost picture him, bored, legs casually crossed in a corner, pulling a smug smile when he saw my reply. Some people could have everything without lifting a finger. Like Delaney. She had little innate talent, excelling only at plagiarism and mimicry, yet her quick wit and flattery had won Marcus Shaw’s total devotion. I was different. Marcus Shaw had been notoriously strict with me. He used to say I was the most gifted designer he had ever seen. I pushed myself harder for that praise, striving for reputation, money, and every accolade that could benefit the studio. Just as he was about to formally announce me as his successor, Delaney arrived. She replaced me effortlessly. I only recently discovered that Marcus Shaw had known for a while that Delaney was stealing and mimicking my work, but he had chosen to ignore it. No wonder he hadn’t seemed that excited when I won the international grand prize. My once-devoted mentor and my supportive senior apprentice were now orbiting Delaney. I was the one who had been discarded. Except for Willow, who was still in my corner. So, what was mine, I had to reclaim myself. Rhys’s message popped up again. [I’m so glad you’re keeping me company. This kind of event genuinely drives me insane.] I pretended to be curious. [What gala is it? Sounds important. Can’t you just skip it?] [The Shaw Studio celebration. Celebrating their new designer, Delaney, for winning some big award. My grandfather and Marcus Shaw have history, so I have to be here.] Delaney won an award? A celebration gala? My hand shook, and my phone clattered to the floor. A decade of my life, countless all-nighters spent sketching and perfecting, had ultimately become a ladder for her ascent. Rhys: [What was that? Sounds like a big thump.] Me: [Just dropped my phone. Clumsy. Say, why do you guys have to attend? Seems like only the very top people would get an invite to something like that.] Rhys replied quickly, with a hint of playful bragging. [Heh, actually, I snuck out without telling my grandfather. Is there anything you want to eat? I could bring you something.] Me: [Wow, you’re an escape artist! Could you bring me a piece of Tiramisu? I’m suddenly craving it.] [No problem.] We agreed on a meeting spot. I looked at my phone’s cracked screen and felt a fresh stab of financial pain. I wouldn’t be able to upgrade to the latest model on a whim anymore. This life had to end, and fast. I decided I would make Rhys completely fall for me at this meeting. I stopped by a convenience store to pick up a few things for our impromptu “date.” But I never made it. Parked outside the convenience store was a Ferrari I knew all too well. My former senior apprentice, Grant, got out, opened the passenger door, and helped a princess-like Delaney out of the seat. “Grant, this place is so rundown. I don’t want to stay here for another second.” Delaney wrinkled her nose in distaste. Grant gently brushed the hair from her forehead, his voice dripping with affection. “We just need to warn Willow to stay out of your business with Sasha. Just a little longer, Delaney.” Willow was my best friend. My eyes instantly welled up. Warn her? Because she had taken me in? Grant, my former friend, how could you be so utterly ruthless? All for Delaney. The fate of a genius whose value had been squeezed dry was truly pathetic. I waited in the corner for a long time until the glaring red Ferrari finally sped away. Willow’s family was well-off, but her father’s company was dependent on the larger conglomerate associated with Marcus Shaw’s studio. When I got back, Willow’s father was sitting on the sofa, his face cold. Her mother looked at me with open distaste. Willow was stuck between us, her face a mask of distress. “Sasha, I…” I forced out a smile that was more like a grimace and picked up my suitcase. Before leaving, I bowed deeply to them. “Uncle, Auntie, I am so sorry for the trouble I caused. Thank you for taking me in. I won’t bother you anymore.” Now, I truly had nothing left. I crouched on the sidewalk, my suitcase at my feet. Tears splashed onto the clean pavement, making small, spreading circles. I picked up my phone. The screen showed 99+ unread messages. I braced myself, expecting insults from Grant or mockery from Delaney. To my surprise, they were all from Rhys Beckett. I had completely forgotten about him. [Sasha, I’m here. Got here thirty minutes early so you wouldn’t have to wait.] [OMG, I just saw a stray cat trying to get into a trash can. It’s seriously agile. Sending you a pic.] Two hours later. [Are you here yet?] [Girls take a little longer to get ready. I get it.] [I dressed up a bit, too. I look pretty handsome. Heh.] [Bought your Tiramisu. Waiting for you to come and eat it.] Another hour later. [Where are you?] [Did you… decide you didn’t want to talk to me?] [The Tiramisu is going to melt. I’m going to eat it for you.] [Sasha, next time, can I pick the restaurant?] There were also several missed calls. [Where are you? Did something happen? I’m still here waiting. Text me back when you see this. Just a ‘1’ will do.] I quickly wiped the rain and tears from my face. [Sorry, Rhys. An emergency came up at home. Can’t make it.] [Eat the cake for me.] [I’m sorry for making you wait so long.] I dragged my suitcase down the deserted street, walking aimlessly. If I opened my mouth right now and asked to crash at his place for the night, he probably wouldn’t refuse. But I couldn’t. A person who throws themselves at you always seems cheap. Being abandoned by my mentor and ruthlessly cut off by my senior had been humiliating enough. Willow’s call came through. I composed myself, trying to make my voice sound normal. “Hello? I’m fine. I just checked into a hotel. King bed, super comfy. We’ll figure out tomorrow later. There’s always a way out.” There was a moment of silence on the other end. “Sasha, stop pretending. I’m across the street from you.” “My parents are awful, but I’m not. Let me help you.” I turned around. Willow stood opposite me, holding an umbrella. She hurried over and thrust a key into my hand. “My dad’s compensation for being a spineless jerk. Sasha, stand up.” At twenty-four, I should have been full of life, but I felt like a piece of garbage tossed out by the world. And Willow stood before me, a knight charging through the thorns. “Thank you,” my voice caught in my throat. She snatched my suitcase. “Don’t be ridiculous. We don’t do ‘thank you.’” On the way to the apartment, I glanced out the car window and saw someone sitting on a roadside bench. A half-melted pastry box was resting on his long legs. He was looking down, motionless, staring at his phone screen. It was Rhys. Willow’s father’s backup apartment hadn’t been lived in for a long time and was covered in dust. I wanted to call a cleaning service, but after checking my meager bank balance, I silently gave up the idea. Rhys hadn’t texted again, but my phone hadn’t stopped vibrating from all the notifications. Once we finished cleaning, Willow had to leave. “I have to go. Can’t stay out all night. Call me immediately if you need anything.” “I will.” I sat on the bed, hugging a pillow.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387472”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Five years after my family erased my name from their legacy, I ran into my uncle at a private club downtown. He was Marcus Blackwood, the guest of honor, a veritable godfather in this city’s underworld, here to celebrate his fiancée’s new venture in the Caribbean. And I was just one of the girls paid to pour the drinks. We didn’t make eye contact the entire night. Not once. Not until a drunk client, a fleshy man with a diamond pinky ring, slapped a hunting knife flat on the table and pointed it at me. “Hey, you,” he slurred, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “Crawl around the floor for us. Bark a little. How about a grand for your trouble?” I didn’t hesitate. My knees hit the cold marble floor. As whistles and jeers echoed in the smoky VIP lounge, I closed my eyes and barked. When I finished the circle, I used a nearby wall to pull myself to my feet. That’s when I heard my uncle’s voice, a low sneer that cut through the noise. “You’d rather be a dog in here than go back and apologize to Isabelle?” he said. “Lila Rhodes, you’ve got some goddamn nerve.” I managed a hollow smile and held out my palm. “One thousand dollars,” I said. “Cash or Venmo?” The years of bitterness, the ancient history between us, had long since faded into ash. But that thousand dollars—it was the exact amount I needed for the final payment on my urn. 1 The room fell silent for a beat. Every eye was on me, a dozen different kinds of judgment in their gaze. Then, someone snickered. On the leather couch across the room, my uncle’s knuckles whitened around his whiskey glass. His face was a mask of dark fury. He was ashamed. Embarrassed. In his world, a thousand dollars was pocket change, not even enough to tip one of his enforcers. And here I was, his niece, debasing myself for it. His fiancée, Isabelle Croft, toyed with a diamond earring, her voice dripping with amusement. “Marcus searched for you for five whole years, and this is where you end up? Learning to bark for strangers? You may not want the Blackwood name, darling, but he still does.” I lifted my gaze to meet hers. “There’s no shame in earning a living. At least I’m not on my back to do it.” A corner of her red-painted mouth twitched. “Are you that desperate for money? Tell you what. Do two more laps. If I’m entertained, I’ll add another two thousand.” The room erupted. The bet was on. “If Miss Croft is putting up two grand, so am I!” someone shouted. “I’ll throw in another thousand!” I didn’t hesitate. I was about to drop to my knees again when the door to the lounge was thrown open. The club manager scurried in, bowing and scraping. He grabbed my arm, shoving me against the wall before turning to Marcus with an apologetic smile. “Mr. Blackwood, sir. My apologies. This girl is new, she doesn’t know the rules. If she’s disturbed you…” “Are you going to crawl for her?” Marcus’s voice was ice. He crushed his cigar into an ashtray, his eyes as dark and cold as a winter lake. A bead of sweat trickled down the manager’s temple. He was terrified of me getting killed on his property, but he was more terrified of the man on the sofa. “It’s… it’s a demeaning game, sir. A grown man would have trouble with it, let alone a young woman…” “Then get the hell out!” Marcus roared, kicking the heavy coffee table over with a violent crash. He pulled a thick stack of cash from his jacket—ten grand, at least—and hurled it at the manager. “Lila crawls tonight! You try to stop it again, and I’ll burn this shithole to the ground.” The manager scrambled to scoop up the bills, his face splitting into a grotesque, greedy grin. He forgot I existed, muttered a thank you, and vanished. All eyes returned to me. Marcus’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want the money anymore?” My face was a blank mask. I sank to the floor and began to crawl toward the laughing crowd. The chill of the marble seeped through my thin dress, into my knees. The two shots of whiskey I’d choked down earlier churned in my stomach like acid. I saw Marcus’s knuckles turn bone-white. As I forced a third, trembling bark from my raw throat, he was suddenly there, his hand clamping around my wrist like a steel trap. “Lila, are you trying to fucking kill yourself?!” “I need the money,” I rasped, wrenching my arm free and continuing to crawl. But before I could make another sound, a boot slammed into my side, sending me skidding across the floor. Crack. My forehead connected with the sharp corner of a side table. Stars exploded behind my eyes, and a spray of blood and cold sweat hit the polished floor. Marcus hauled me up by the collar of my dress, his face inches from mine, his voice a furious roar. “You’d throw away your dignity for money? Is that all you care about?” He shoved me away from him. “You’ll never see a single cent from me!” Humiliation burned through me, a white-hot fire. The neon lights of the bar blurred into a broken kaleidoscope. And a voice, buried for five years, roared in my memory: “For money, you’d even sell the emerald signet ring your mother left you! Have I ever denied you anything? Why not just sell yourself while you’re at it! Get out! From now on, I don’t have a niece!” Five years ago, Isabelle had set me up. She’d stolen my mother’s heirloom ring from my uncle’s study and pawned it, making it look like I was the thief. Marcus had forced me to kneel in the pouring rain for three days and three nights, demanding to know where the ring was. But how could I know? I told him it was Isabelle. It was her plan to drive us apart, because she was jealous of the affection he’d always shown me. He didn’t believe me. Theft. Betrayal of family. Stubbornness. Three sins that shattered whatever warmth he’d once held for me. Egged on by Isabelle, he cleared out my bank accounts and threw me out onto the street. The first six months were bearable. I found a commission-based sales job, enough to get by. Then came the only call I received from Marcus in all those five years. His first words were: “Aren’t you ready to come home and admit you were wrong? Just tell me where the ring is, and I’ll forgive you.” I was still fueled by pride then, by a stubborn, self-destructive anger. “I told you, I didn’t sell it! Why don’t you ask your precious Isabelle! She’s the one who did it!” He hung up. The next day, I was fired. Blacklisted across the entire city. Marcus had put the word out to every corner of his empire, legal and illegal: anyone who hired me was an enemy of the Blackwood family. For years, I couldn’t find a legitimate job. I drifted into the city’s nightlife, a ghost in smoky bars and high-end clubs. It felt like he wanted me to see what I’d lost. He paraded Isabelle everywhere—to his backroom poker games, his casinos, his arms deals. He publicly declared that she would inherit everything that should have been mine. He showered her with gifts, dropping millions on a whim. The society pages were filled with pictures of them, smiling and powerful. And I was in the gutter, drinking myself to death just to survive, until my body finally gave out. Stomach cancer. The doctor’s appointments and prescriptions drained what little I had saved. Loan sharks came next, the interest compounding until the debt was an impossible mountain. Experimental drugs were a fantasy; chemotherapy, a distant dream. I’d tried calling him for help once. I’d barely gotten the words out before he cut me off. “Money, money, money! Is that the only thing you can see?” he’d spat. “You come back here, get on your knees, and admit what you did. Otherwise, you can die in the street before you get a penny from me.” That call extinguished the last flicker of hope I had left. I was just so tired. If he wanted me to die, then fine. I would die. At least then, the pain would stop. A month ago, I put a deposit down on an urn. I scraped together every dollar I could, but I was still a thousand short. The owner of the funeral home called almost daily. I thought tonight, finally, I could pay it off. But my uncle, who could toss ten thousand dollars to a club manager without a second thought, wouldn’t spare a single dollar for me. He left with his entourage, leaving me in the wreckage. I spent the next twenty minutes in the bathroom, vomiting until my entire body ached. Only one thought remained. All that, for nothing. My shift supervisor leaned against the doorframe, smoking a cigarette. “How the hell did you piss off Marcus Blackwood? He looked like he was ready to kill someone. What’s the history between you two?” A fresh wave of pain seized my stomach. I gripped the edge of the sink to keep from collapsing. “No history,” I said. “Just a blood feud, I guess.” The next morning, my phone woke me. It was the man from the funeral home. “Miss Rhodes, when are you going to settle your balance? It’s a thousand dollars. Are you really going to drag this out for over a month?” His voice was rough with impatience. “If you don’t pay within three days, I’m selling it to someone else. And you’re not getting your deposit back.” “Please, just give me a little more time,” I begged, my voice hoarse. “I get paid in two weeks, I can—” “Can’t wait!” he snapped. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Haggling over an urn. If you don’t have the money, you shouldn’t have picked out such an expensive one.” I wanted to argue, but the line was already dead. My head throbbing, I called my manager to ask for an advance on my salary. His response was even more brutal. “Just so you know, you don’t need to come in today. Or ever again.” “And don’t expect a final paycheck. Mr. Blackwood gave the order. We can’t afford to cross him.” My voice trembled. “That’s illegal. You can’t just withhold my wages. I’ll go to the labor board.” The manager laughed, a short, ugly sound. “Go ahead! Sue us! Mr. Blackwood said he’d cover any and all consequences. His legal team is the best in the country. If you want to walk into that buzzsaw, be my guest.” The line went dead again. A knot of pressure built in my chest until I doubled over, a violent cough racking my body. I spat a mouthful of blood onto the white tile floor. I stared at the bright, shocking red for a long moment before the tears finally came. I collapsed, the sobs tearing through me. After a long while, I mechanically cleaned up the mess. I took out my painkillers and swallowed them dry. Then, completely spent, I slid to the floor, my back against the bed, and thought about the last five years. Every single door that had opened for me, Marcus had slammed it shut. Every path I’d tried to walk, he had personally destroyed. Now, even the dregs of the city wouldn’t have me. Paying for painkillers was a struggle; paying for an urn was impossible. Eating was becoming a problem. I just wanted a beautiful house to rest in when I died. What was so wrong with that? I cried until the afternoon sun faded to gray, until I had no tears left, only a hollowed-out exhaustion. Staring at my trembling hands, I made a decision. I would go back to the Blackwood estate and demand an answer. I had to know. Why? Why had he done this to me? When I arrived, Marcus and Isabelle were having dinner. He glanced up, his expression unreadable. “So, you decided to come back.” “Why did you have me fired?” I asked, my voice flat, ignoring his question completely. “Five years. Haven’t you humiliated me enough?” He set down his fork, one eyebrow raised in detached amusement. “A little hardship teaches you how warm the Blackwood roof is, Lila. Do you have any idea the kinds of things people say about you out there? If it wasn’t for me keeping a lid on it…” Isabelle swirled the red wine in her glass. “She doesn’t appreciate it, Marcus. Can’t you see? She’s blaming you.” “Shut up!” I lunged across the space between us, my hand raised to strike her. But an iron grip caught my wrist. Marcus’s eyes were dangerously dark. “Feeling brave, are we? It seems you still haven’t learned your place.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to make you disappear?” My heart seized, as if his hand were squeezing it directly. Make me disappear? Isn’t that what he’d been doing for five years? Systematically destroying my jobs, my hopes, my will to live? I was worse off than a rat in the sewer, broken and sick, unable to even afford a final resting place. I was done. I was so done with his threats. “I did nothing wrong!” I screamed, the sound tearing from my throat. “Fine, Marcus! If you won’t let me live, then I’ll die! Is that what you want? You can’t rule me from hell, can you?” A vein pulsed in his temple. He shoved me violently, and I stumbled back, the corner of the heavy dining table digging into my lower back. The pain was explosive, and a cold sweat broke out over my entire body. Marcus turned away, refusing to look at my pale, sweat-sheened face. “Even in death, you will always be in my debt,” he said, his voice cold and final. “Until that ring is found, you don’t even have the right to die.” With that, he walked out of the room. I was in too much pain to get up. Isabelle’s stiletto heel pressed down on my fingers. “You poor thing,” she cooed. “You look so pathetic. How about this? Kneel and bow your head to me three times, and I’ll tell you where the ring is.” I stared at her, a burning hatred in my eyes. I wanted to rip her apart. But I knew I didn’t even have the strength to slap her. Five years of humiliation, and now, even in my final days, I couldn’t have a shred of dignity. Marcus’s words echoed in my head. Until that ring is found, you don’t even have the right to die. Fine. If finding that ring would grant me peace, then I would find it. I wiped the tears from my face, a wave of despair washing over me. I got to my knees and bowed my head to the floor, three times, the impacts jarring my already aching body. “Please,” I whispered. “Tell me where it is.” In the past, whenever she’d schemed against me, I’d fought back with everything I had. This time, I didn’t even have the energy to argue. My submission seemed to bore her. She tossed a slip of paper onto the floor. “Here’s the address. But whether you can get it back, Lila, that’s on you.” Numbly, I picked it up. I found a city bike and rode to the address on the outskirts of town. It was a dusty, forgotten pawn shop. When I explained why I was there, the owner said nothing. He just looked at the note and retrieved the ring from a back room. Clearly, Isabelle had already called. I felt nothing. No anger, no relief. I just wanted to give the ring to Marcus so we could be done with each other. But as he was handing it to me, his hand suddenly went slack. The emerald signet ring, my mother’s ring, fell to the concrete floor and shattered. I froze, the blood draining from my face. “Hey, kid, what’s the big idea?” the owner exclaimed. “You gotta be more careful! This ain’t my fault.” “Lila!” Marcus’s furious roar exploded from behind me. I whipped around and saw Isabelle’s triumphant smile as she clung to his arm. “I told you she’d do it, Marcus!” she cried. “She hates you so much she’d even destroy her own mother’s memory! And to think you were actually going to forgive her!” Marcus didn’t seem to hear her. His eyes were fixed on the glittering green shards on the floor. He walked forward slowly, stiffly, and knelt. For a long moment, he just stared. Then, piece by piece, he began to gather the broken emerald and gold, his large hand clenching around the sharp fragments. “It wasn’t me! He dropped it! And I never sold it in the first place…” The words tumbled out of me, a frantic, desperate plea. Seeing him look so utterly defeated filled me with a panic I had never known. He rose to his feet, his face a storm of rage and pain, and slapped me so hard I was thrown to the ground. Slap! I landed in a heap, my cheek burning, my stomach twisting in agony. The tears that came were involuntary, a pure physical reaction to the pain. His chest heaved, his eyes bloodshot. “Five years! I gave you every chance! I told you, just come back and admit you were wrong, and I would forgive everything!” he bellowed. “But what did you do? What did you do!” “Lila, you’re not worthy of the name Rhodes! And you’re not worthy of calling me your uncle!” He was utterly disappointed in me, his voice raw with a pain so deep it was shocking. He had completely lost control. My heart plummeted. I could taste blood in my throat. I swallowed it down and whispered, my voice choked, “What if… what if I was really dying?” “Who are you trying to fool?” He glared at me with pure disgust, his fist so tight that blood began to seep between his fingers from the broken ring. “You could drop dead right here, and I wouldn’t even blink.” “Okay,” I said. I clenched my own fists and shakily pushed myself to my feet. And in that moment, something inside me settled. A strange clarity. I was going to die anyway. The debts, the resentments, the betrayals… none of it mattered anymore. If he truly believed I was the monster he’d created, then so be it. After I was gone, I would be nothing but a handful of dust. None of this would have any meaning. A bitter smile touched my lips. I turned and walked out of the shop. “Where do you think you’re going?” he roared behind me. “Are you determined to drive me to my grave?” I didn’t look back. My voice drifted back to him, carried on the dusty air. “You don’t have to die,” I said. “My death will be enough.” … For the next two days, Marcus didn’t contact me. He took the shattered ring to the best jewelers in the city, but they all told him the same thing: it could be pieced back together, but the cracks would always show. It would never be whole again. Looking at the flawed, ugly thing, he was consumed by a quiet, simmering rage. On the first day, he held a press conference and publicly disowned me. He stood before the cameras, his face cold and impassive. “Whether Lila Rhodes lives or dies is no longer the concern of the Blackwood family. I will not intervene if she sells her body or begs on the street. Anyone who mentions her name in my presence will be considered my enemy.” The city was stunned. On the second day, he took Isabelle to a formal family council. He named her his official heir. One of his older cousins pulled him aside. “Marcus, is this necessary? Lila is still your blood, your niece. Are you really going to push her to the absolute edge?” Marcus’s lips thinned. “The edge? What’s going to happen? She’s survived for five years, hasn’t she?” he said with a sneer. “She doesn’t have the guts to die. She’d be too ashamed to face her mother in the afterlife.” He was wrong again. Because by then, I was already a ghost, floating beside him. I had been dead for two days, my body at the bottom of the river near my apartment. The pain had just been too much. Death, for me, was a release. What I didn’t expect was that on the third day, Marcus received a phone call from the funeral home. The man on the other end was shouting. “Mr. Blackwood! You’re Lila Rhodes’s uncle, right? She listed you as her emergency contact, so don’t even try to deny it! She ordered an urn, and there’s still a thousand-dollar balance on it! Do you want it or not?”

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In my first life, I chose the Wolfman. My cousin chose the Fox. The Wolf fell for my cousin. To help her win the Grand Tournament, he stood by and watched as I was torn to shreds by other beasts. In my second life, I learned my lesson. I chose the Fox. Turns out, the Fox also loved my cousin. I died. Again. This is my third life. I’m done with this garbage. Just as I was hesitating on who to pick… A fluffy paw slapped onto my hand. “Enough already! I feel bad for you. Pick me!” “I’ve watched you die twice now, you idiot!” 1 In my first life, during the Spirit Bonding Ceremony, I picked the muscular Wolfman. But he thought I wasn’t pretty enough and simped hard for my cousin, Lyla. During the Grand Tournament, just so I wouldn’t block Lyla’s path to victory, he literally sacrificed me, watching coldly as I was ripped apart by rival beasts. Rewind. Second life. Since the Wolf was a bust, I picked the Fox that Lyla had chosen originally. I wanted the loyalty the Fox had shown her. We formed a blood pact. He was loyal, alright. Loyal to Lyla. To break his bond with me and be with her, he severed one of his own tails and killed me with his own claws. As I bled out, I asked him why he didn’t just reject me at the start. He looked at me with dead eyes. “I just needed someone to get me out of the Beast Pit. Lyla said she was going to pick me, but you beat her to it. If not for you, I’d be hers.” I died with my eyes wide open, fueled by pure rage. But then, I woke up. Again. Third time’s the charm, right? This time, I’m staying the hell away from any beast associated with Lyla. I paced back and forth among the caged spirits, unable to decide. My father, the High Lord of our clan, looked at me. “Arya, do you not see one you like?” “I think the Wolf and the Fox are excellent choices. The Wolf is a powerhouse; bonding with him would skyrocket your cultivation. And that Fox? He already has eight tails. If he grows a ninth, he becomes a God Beast. Either one secures your future.” I listened to my dad and shook my head so hard I nearly gave myself whiplash. I tried both. They are strong. So strong that my deaths were spectacular and very, very painful. Seeing my hesitation, Dad sighed. “If you don’t choose now, you have to wait three years.” Three years is an eternity for a Spirit cultivator. It’s the difference between being a prodigy and a nobody. Dad always said that since I’m his only child, the position of Clan Leader is mine. But in this world, might makes right. Even with nepotism, I need the power to back it up. The Wolf and the Fox were headhunted by Dad specifically for me. The rest of the beasts in the pit looked… mid. That’s why I picked the elites in my past lives. I sighed. I can’t repeat history. I have to find a diamond in the rough. I walked a lap, about to settle for a Roc (giant bird) in the corner. My hand reached out, but a furry white paw smacked it down. “Enough, Arya! Pick me!” “I’ve been dragged through time with you for two lifetimes! My heart literally hurts watching you be this stupid!” A voice exploded in my brain. I looked down, startled. A tiny kitten, white with strange markings, was staring at me with big, wet eyes. “What? You think I’m worse than those two traitors? Pick. Me. I refuse to reboot this timeline again!” I looked around. Nobody else heard him. I sliced my palm without hesitation. Blood dripped onto his forehead. Runes lit up the floor, binding our souls. Usually, when a Spirit bonds with a human, they instantly gain a humanoid form. But my cat… stayed a cat. He leaped onto my shoulder with an arrogant huff. “What are you looking at? I haven’t recovered my power yet. Obviously, I can’t transform.” Dad looked at the kitten, then at me. Disappointment washed over his face, but the deed was done. Just like the past two lives, after I picked, it was Lyla’s turn. Lyla was my orphan cousin, raised in our house. My parents treated her like gold. Whatever I had, she had. She was gorgeous. The moment she stepped up, I instinctively looked at my cat. He seemed to read my mind and snorted. “Please. The Great Me has no interest in that basic pick-me girl. Only those two morons would fall for her.” “In the last two lives, she played them like fiddles, and they gladly died for her.” He paused, then ground his teeth. “I don’t know what cursed luck I have to be dragged back in time by you twice. Every time I was about to ascend to Godhood, boom, back to level one!” I gasped. “You… you aren’t going to kill me for revenge, are you?” Then I realized—if I die, he probably resets again. So he has to protect me. I grinned. He glared at me with emerald eyes. “Hmph. I wouldn’t lower myself to kill you.” Then he looked at Lyla with pure malice. “You skipped the Wolf and the Fox. Who do you think she’ll pick?” I was curious too. In the past, she took my leftovers. She always acted like I stole her destiny. This time, the buffet is open. Lyla stood before the cages. The Wolf and the Fox looked at her with puppy-dog eyes. She was talented and beautiful. Being picked by her was a jackpot. But a human can only bond one beast for life. The Wolf looked fierce. The Fox looked seductive. Lyla hesitated for only a second before pointing at the Fox. “I choose you.” Just as she raised her hand to cut her palm, the Wolf grabbed the hem of her dress through the bars. “Miss, please pick me. I am strong. I can protect you. I can make you the strongest.” I watched him beg, remembering my first life. He never looked at me with that much emotion. Even when I was dying for Lyla’s sake, he just said, “I never wanted you. Your death sets me free.” Rage bubbled up, but a lazy voice echoed in my head. “Trash. You really were blind in your first life. He isn’t worth one of my claws.” 2 The voice in my head continued, “Ungrateful little scum. Once you level up, we’ll just kill them.” My cat, Bastian, sounded utterly disgusted. Meanwhile, the Wolf was still simping hard. “That Fox is just a pretty face! I have raw power!” The Fox gave Lyla a teary-eyed look. “Miss, do you really want that ugly thing? If I grow nine tails, I can defy the heavens. I’m not weaker than a dog.” This was the first time the two beasts fought for her openly. All the clan sisters were watching. Lyla stood there, looking conflicted and innocent. She sighed. “You’re both so strong… I don’t know what to do.” She suddenly looked at me. “Cousin Arya, who do you think I should pick?” All eyes turned to me. If I hadn’t lived through this twice, I’d think she was just asking for advice. But I knew better. She was setting me up. I smiled. “It’s a lifetime bond, Lyla. I couldn’t possibly decide for you. Follow your heart.” Lyla paused, then pointed at the Fox again. “I choose you.” She looked at the Wolf apologetically. “I’m sorry. You’re great, but… someone else will pick you.” The Wolf’s eyes went dead. He was quickly snatched up by another clan sister. Once bonded, spirits need time to synchronize before taking human form. Lyla walked over to me with her new Fox. “That kitten is cute, Cousin. If you hadn’t taken him, I might have been tempted.” Bastian rolled his eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck. I smirked. In previous lives, she said the same thing, and my beast immediately fell in love with her. “Careful,” I said dryly. “Saying that might make your Fox sad.” Lyla’s face stiffened. She hugged the Fox tight. “I’m just being nice, Cousin. My choice is the best, obviously.” We all went into seclusion to bond with our beasts. Bastian transformed in seven days. A humanoid form, though he kept the ears and attitude. My dad is the Clan Leader, making me the heir apparent. But I have to prove my strength in the Grand Tournament. That’s where I died the first time. The Wolf let me die so Lyla could win. The opponent cheated, I was stabbed through the chest, and my dad was cornered by Lyla saying, “Accidents happen in the arena, Uncle. You have to be fair.” Dad couldn’t save me without losing his position. I died in his arms. Second life? The Fox killed me before we even got to the tournament. This time? Bastian looked at me like I was a hopeless project. “Your deaths were your own fault. You were weak. Fear stems from a lack of firepower.” He crossed his arms. “This life, you rely on no one but yourself. I will train you until you don’t need a beast to fight.” 3 I agreed. I asked my father for permission to enter the Abyss, our clan’s most dangerous training ground. Dad was pleased. “Good girl. Ambition is good.” Bastian and I entered the Abyss. It started okay. Then it got hellish. Every day, Bastian would disappear and return leading a horde of high-level monsters straight to me. “Run or fight, Arya!” he’d yell from a tree, eating a fruit. “Suffering builds character!” “Why aren’t you fighting?!” I screamed, dodging a fireball. “I have a delicate stomach! Doctor says I can’t eat bitterness (suffer)!” he yelled back. “Besides, we share a power pool. You level up, I level up. Efficiency!” I spent a year in there. Most people last a month. At first, I ran. I couldn’t sleep. Then, Bastian forced me to fight. I got beaten black and blue. He showed no mercy. “In my eyes, there are no genders, only the strong and the dead.” I got beat up for months. Eventually, my skin got thicker, or I got stronger. I started hitting back. By the time we left, the monsters in the Abyss threw us a farewell party. They were practically gifting me dead prey to get me to leave. Dad was waiting at the exit. He sighed in relief seeing me alive. Lyla popped out from behind him. “Cousin, you’ve been in there so long. You must be super strong now.” I smiled. “I’m okay.” Her Fox had taken human form—a handsome, feminine man. He sneered at me. “Don’t worry, Lyla. I’ll protect you. I’m not useless like some beasts.” We went home. I saw the Wolf standing in the distance, waiting. He belonged to another clan sister now, but he was staring at Lyla. Lyla lowered her eyes. “I should go talk to him. He’s been obsessed since I rejected him.” She sounded so burdened. The Fox growled, “You’re too kind, Lyla. Let me chase him off.” “No, I’ll handle it.” I stood there with Bastian. He crossed his arms. “Hmph. Green tea bitch.” I looked at him, surprised he knew the slang. Three days later, big news rocked the clan. The Wolf killed his bonded human. The clan sister was dead. The Wolf was rogue and on the run. Lyla clutched her chest when she heard. “How terrifying. I’m so glad I didn’t pick him.” I looked at her, smiling coldly. “Yeah. Good thing I didn’t pick him either. Or I’d have missed out on Bastian.” 4 Lyla glanced at Bastian, then looked away. I knew something was up. In my first life, I died. In this life, the girl who picked the Wolf died. Lyla was the common denominator. She must have said something to the Wolf to make him snap. As the Clan Leader’s daughter, it was my job to hunt the rogue Wolf. I knew exactly where he was hiding. In my first life, he told me about his secret den—a place he considered safe. He never took me there, but I remembered the location. We found him quickly. He was half-dead from the backlash of breaking the bond. We dragged him back. The uncle whose daughter was killed was screaming for blood. “Skin him alive! He killed my child!” “Leader, we must make an example of him! Or the other beasts will rebel!” Lyla looked at the dying Wolf. “He looks so pitiful right now.” The uncle snapped his head toward her. “Pitiful?! What about my daughter?! If it were you who died, would you call him pitiful?!” Lyla teared up and bit her lip. The Wolf was skinned alive. He died in agony. Lyla covered her mouth, eyes full of fear. Her Fox shielded her. The Wolf is gone. Next up: Lyla and the Fox.

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After failing to win the male lead’s heart n times, I decided to just adopt him as my dad. I burst into the divorce proceedings of the main couple, flying through the air to hug their legs, tears streaming down my face. “Mom! Dad! I’m your daughter from the future!” Male Lead / Female Lead: “Where did this psycho come from?” Me: “Dad, are you sure you want to divorce Mom? She’s already pregnant with me!” The male lead looked at the female lead in shock: “You’re pregnant?” The female lead, whose “run away with the baby” plan had failed, remained silent. I nodded frantically beside her. “Yes, yes, yes! She’s really pregnant! Mom, Dad, I’m born!” 1 I am an awakened vicious supporting female character in an old-school angst novel. The System said that if the male lead’s affection for me reached 100%, I could leave this world and welcome a happy new life. But the male lead only had eyes for the female lead. After reloading the save file four times in a row, I decided to take a different approach and play a big game. I was going to pretend to be the daughter of the main couple. As the fifth attempt began, I stood at the scene of the main couple’s divorce, watching the male lead, Julian Ji, holding a fountain pen and speaking indifferently. “It was a contract marriage to begin with. I injected capital into your family’s company and helped handle your brother’s lawsuit. I’ve done all I can. You don’t need to act like you’ve been so wronged in this marriage.” The female lead, Chloe Zhang, had red eyes and nodded. The female secretary standing aside, Zoe Zhao, smirked. I strode forward, slid to my knees, and hugged the main couple’s legs. Julian Ji / Chloe Zhang: “…” I wept, “Mom! Dad! I finally found you! I’m your daughter who traveled back from the future!” Julian’s eye twitched. “Where did this psycho come from? Secretary Zhao, call security.” Me: “Dad, don’t drive me away! I know you still wet the bed when you were seven. You pretended to be calm on the surface, but secretly cried until you fainted in the closet because of the shame!” Julian’s pupils quaked for a second. Seeing her good deed being ruined, Zoe frowned and looked at Chloe, saying, “Ms. Zhang, is this an actor you hired? You really have many tricks. First getting drunk and sleeping with a man, claiming to be framed, and now hiring an actor to stop the divorce…” Chloe’s thin body trembled slightly. Unable to bear such slander, she immediately picked up the pen to sign the divorce agreement. I looked at the male lead and said, “Dad, are you sure you want to divorce Mom? She’s already pregnant with me!” Julian immediately looked at Chloe. Chloe’s eyelashes trembled as she continued to sign. Julian finally couldn’t help but stand up and hold Chloe’s hand. Zoe got anxious, “President Ji!” Julian ignored her and just looked at Chloe, asking, “Are you really pregnant?” Chloe didn’t speak. I nodded frantically beside them. “Yes, yes, yes! She’s really pregnant! Mom, Dad, I’m born!” 2 Julian took Chloe to the hospital. The results came out quickly; Chloe was indeed pregnant. She sat on a chair, looking at the report in her hand, her eyes filled with tears. Julian looked at Chloe and frowned, “Why are you crying? Is carrying my child so painful for you?” I thought to myself, You know nothing. Do you know how much grievance the female lead has suffered in this marriage! You only know how to act like a cold, domineering CEO, making her think you hate her. She doesn’t dare to tell you when she’s in trouble, and every few days, the evil villain trips her up and throws mud at her. Take the fuse of your divorce, for example. She was drugged and ended up in bed with the villain. Although nothing happened, she must have been scared and aggrieved. And the result? You just pretend to be cold and wait for her to explain herself. When she explains, you don’t listen. So why the hell do you ask! If you want her to hug you and loudly promise, ‘Husband, I only have you in my heart,’ then just say it! Sigh, forget it. After all, it’s an old-school angst novel, with this frustrating, breast-cancer-inducing flavor. Besides, the male lead really spends money on the female lead. So far, he has spent hundreds of millions on her. I can accept him living with her. Chloe wiped the tears from her face and said wearily, “I don’t plan to keep this child.” Julian’s pupils quaked again. Shutterstock The wife is too lazy to run with the ball and wants to abort directly. This is terrifying. But he is an old-school angst novel CEO. He only pretended to be calm and said indifferently, “That’s not up to you. The child isn’t yours alone.” Chloe’s lips were pale, her face bloodless. “We’re divorcing anyway. Do you want to give the child a broken home?” Julian finally decided to say something substantial. He said, “If you can prove that you were indeed innocent in that matter, I can agree not to divorce.” “That matter” Julian referred to was her lying in bed with the male villain after drinking. The CEO thought this counted as bowing his head, but he didn’t expect this to hurt Chloe even more. She casually threw the report into the trash can, stood up, and wanted to leave. I was about to die of anger. “Dad, are you crazy! You’ve known Mom for so many years, can’t you trust her character?” I grabbed Julian’s collar and roared, “You only know how to bully your own wife. What kind of man are you? I’m asking you, what kind of man are you!” Julian: “…” Although his hairstyle was messed up by my shaking, he didn’t lay a hand on me. Heavens, I should have used this move earlier. He didn’t even dare to let security really take me away, just because he didn’t want to offend me, his suspicious-looking future daughter. Zoe came over to pull me, angrily saying, “Miss, if you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.” I said, “Fine, call the police. I want to ask the police how many years you get for hiring someone to drug and attempt date rape? Secretary Zhao, you met that man at the Cloud Top Cafe at 8:35 PM on the 14th of last month. The surveillance footage should still be there. What shady things did you discuss? Also, why did you transfer him twenty thousand dollars? Are you a charity?” Julian and Chloe turned their heads together to look at Zoe. Zoe’s face instantly turned pale. Julian narrowed his eyes slightly and took out his phone, obviously wanting to find someone trustworthy to investigate this matter. Zoe swallowed and said, “President Ji, don’t listen to her nonsense. She must be someone Ms. Zhang hired.” Me: “Hehe, checking surveillance isn’t hard. Let my dad check. If you’re really innocent, what are you afraid of?” With that, I pushed the male lead away, hugged the female lead, and started crying. “Mom, don’t leave. If you leave, Secretary Zhao will find people to frame you in various ways. Your hand will also be injured, and you won’t be able to play the piano to make money anymore. You can’t bear to really hit me. Grandpa threatened suicide to make you take on his debt. We were destitute, living in a basement, hungry and cold, bullied by hooligans, with no money to see a doctor when sick, and…” Male Lead: “Stop, don’t say anymore!” 3 Surveillance and transfer records were retrieved, and the man who fled back to his hometown was also caught. Chloe wasn’t feeling well and was emotionally unstable, so she was sent home to rest first. There were only four of us in the office. The man said, “It… it was Zoe who made me do it. She guaranteed I wouldn’t be in trouble, at most just locked up for a few days. I needed money badly, so I agreed.” The man in front of us was somewhat handsome, which was why Julian was so angry when he caught them. He thought Chloe had hooked up with a toy boy. Julian’s expression was complicated. Regret, heartache. But I felt it wasn’t satisfying enough. Having caught a chance to watch the drama, shouldn’t I stir up bigger waves? I said, “What did Zoe say to you about my mom… ah no, about Chloe? Did she tell you her motive for doing this?” The man quickly said, “She said Chloe wasn’t good enough for President Ji, and that she might be Mrs. Ji in the future. Doing things for her would bring me benefits.” Julian was thoroughly enraged. Zoe had always shown a very professional attitude in front of him, and he trusted her. He had entrusted the task of dealing with this man to Zoe; otherwise, this man couldn’t have appeared before us intact. Zoe stood aside, legs trembling, crying until her makeup ran. “President Ji, President Ji, I’m sorry, please forgive me! I just couldn’t control my feelings. I really know I was wrong. Please forgive me, okay?” She knelt on the ground, hugging Julian’s leg. Julian pushed her away, his expression cold enough to freeze. “I don’t think you deserve my forgiveness.” The male lead of an old-school angst novel really looked scary when angry. Zoe cried even harder, crawled to Julian, and began begging frantically. I found it annoying. “Dad, handle it yourself. You don’t want Mom to know you’re soft-hearted and sympathetic towards your female secretary, pulling and pushing, staging an office play, right?” Julian was angry, “What pulling and pushing? Why do you just make things up? She hurt Chloe, of course I won’t let her off. You don’t need to worry about it here, get out!” I knew the male lead wouldn’t let the villain off. The villains in the later stages all had miserable ends. The male lead is a ruthless man, but I won’t be scared by him. I smiled and said, “You still don’t believe I’m your daughter, right?” Julian: “I’ve already arranged for an emergency paternity test.” Me: “Dad, I transmigrated as a soul. A paternity test proves jack squat. I know everything about you and Mom. Do you want to know what was written in Mom’s diary that was burned?” Julian’s affection value for me instantly became 30%. Speechless. Damn love brain. He looked at me and said in a deep voice, “What was written?” 4 The office was cleared, leaving only me and Julian. I sat; he stood. I said, “Do you really want to know?” Julian was dying of anxiety, but he wouldn’t admit it. He said, “I’m just asking casually. Say it if you want.” Me: “Okay, then I won’t say it. Taking a taxi, bye~” Julian: “…Don’t go.” Me: “So do you want to know or not?” Julian nodded with extreme difficulty. Hehe, mere old-school angst novel male lead. Controlled. I said, “This matter, my mom told me when I was thirteen or fourteen. She was afraid I’d date early and told me to be careful when choosing men, not to be like her.” Julian was unconvinced. “What’s wrong with being like her?” Me: “Being like her, suffering all kinds of grievances. On the wedding night, the groom didn’t come home. You didn’t touch the meal she prepared with care. She was wronged and injured, and still had to be divorced…” Julian said with extreme difficulty, “No, there are misunderstandings in these matters. You mean, she wrote all these things in her diary?” I shook my head. “My mom isn’t that petty. She wrote in her diary that when you ate together, you noticed she didn’t eat eggs, and eggs never appeared on the table again; you noticed she liked blue, and always gave her sapphires; you thought she was asleep and gently touched her face… Anyway, it’s small things like these. She felt happy, so she wrote them all down.” An old-school angst novel male lead was gently healed. His eyes were dazed as he whispered, “Really? She remembers all these small things?” Me: “Yes, but later you two lived like shit. She felt sad seeing those diaries, so she burned them.” An old-school angst novel male lead gently shattered.

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Jade and I were once gentry daughters, raised in a world of rigid social codes, but a twist of fate had tossed us through time, landing us here as two ordinary college students. Jade, always the wild one, had declared her freedom the moment we arrived. Released from the “female commandments,” she’d loudly proclaimed her goal: to date a hundred men before ever settling down. Yet, as graduation approached and I found myself engaged to the kindest man in this century, Reid, the great love hunt of Jade’s never materialized. I thought she might stay single forever. Then, she stumbled into my arms, the smell of champagne and cheap perfume heavy around her. Her hands clutched a slim document—a marriage certificate. “Sylvie,” she slurred, her eyes shining with a manic, triumphant joy. “He rejected me three years ago. Turned me down flat. But I never quit. Look. I finally got him.” I smiled, genuinely happy for her. After all, today was my own wedding day, and Reid had always been my gentle, steady anchor. Jade’s sudden, drunken announcement felt like a perfect double celebration. I carefully guided her to the couch, but as I stood, my elbow snagged the document in her hand, sending it fluttering to the floor. I picked it up and opened it. The sight of the photo hit me with the force of a physical blow. The man smiling out from the page, his expression sunshine-bright and utterly devoted, was Reid. My Reid. The man who had choked up placing my ring on my finger just hours ago. 1 My mind went blank. I squeezed my eyes shut, then blinked them open, trying to flush the image away. It had to be the post-wedding adrenaline; I was seeing Reid’s face everywhere. He was supposed to be finalizing the paperwork for the gallery expansion, our gallery. He told me we’d file our own certificate after the show. How could he have possibly had the time—or the heart—to do this? But Jade’s voice, thick with liquor yet laced with an undeniable, sickening sweetness, floated clearly into the silence. “Reid was the first thing I saw when we landed in this century. I loved him instantly. But he only had eyes for my best friend, so I had to work slowly, subtly, to win him over.” “The road was tough, but the ending is perfect.” I gripped the paper hard. The sharp edges dug into my palm, painfully real. I had known Reid for five years. They had been in love for three of them, operating in a world I couldn’t see. I mechanically turned toward the couch. Jade was still there, smiling a senseless, drunken smile. “Since Reid married me, and kept Sylvie outside our life, it means he truly loves me.” The tears came then, hot and unbidden. I closed my eyes and whispered, using the formal tone I sometimes slipped into. “Are you not afraid Sylvie will find out about this betrayal?” Jade laughed, shaking her head. “Sylvie and I grew up together. If she finds out, we’ll just bring her to live with us.” “It would be… it would be like having a sister-wife. We are like sisters, she won’t mind.” Something sparked in her memory then, and she lunged up, snatching the marriage certificate from my hand. She kissed the photo and lovingly stuffed the precious thing into her coat pocket, still giggling. On the day of my wedding, my husband had already married my best friend. And now, they planned to use an ancient, twisted rule to condescend to me with the position of a mistress. The shock was absolute. My hands and feet felt numb, heavy with ice. I was about to demand an answer, a reason, when the front door swung open. Reid’s warm, loving gaze settled on my face. He didn’t see Jade on the sofa. He walked right to me, pulling me into his arms in a playful embrace. “I finally got rid of those useless groomsmen,” he whispered, nuzzling my neck. “Now, the night is all ours.” Excitedly, he scooped me up into his arms, but his eyes caught Jade’s form in his peripheral vision. He stopped dead, and the excitement drained from his face. In the next instant, he dropped me. I fell, unprepared, with a sickening thud. The back of my head slammed against the corner of the coffee table, and a blinding jolt of pain made my vision go black. Reid finally turned, saw my contorted face, and rushed to pull me up, panic in his eyes. “I am so sorry, Sylvie, I didn’t mean it! I was just startled by your friend!” he stammered. “She knows tonight is important for us. Why is she sleeping here like a giant spotlight? I’ll send her away right now.” He released me, his face a mask of annoyance as he roughly pulled Jade to her feet. “Jade, go home. You have your apartment. Stop being in the way.” I stood paralyzed, watching him drag her. The movement looked crude and disgusted, but I saw it—the careful, almost proprietary hand gripping her lower back, steadying her. That small, tender gesture sliced my heart open. Reid didn’t notice my silence. He was still complaining. “Sylvie rented you a place just around the corner. How can you still freeload off us like this?” The jostling finally made Jade open her eyes. She smiled dazedly at Reid, about to speak, but he clapped a hand over her mouth. Reid avoided my gaze, clearly flustered. “Your friend is loud when she drinks. I’ll take her home now. Wait for me here, okay?” Before I could process a word, he was guiding a muffled, groaning Jade toward the door. He didn’t notice the blood trickling down the side of my head, staining my wedding dress. Dizzy and nauseous, I fought to steady myself. I had to follow. I hailed a cab and had it stop a block away from Jade’s apartment building. They were arguing on the sidewalk, oblivious to me. “Reid, you’re mine tonight. I need you to stay with me.” Jade was clinging to his neck, whining like a child. Reid looked at her, his expression torn. I almost thought he would remember that it was our wedding night, that he would refuse her. Then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Reid. Sylvie, I safely dropped off Jade. A big client urgently needs to see some pieces tonight. I won’t be back, darling. Get some rest. My blood ran cold. I immediately called him, but the line rang and rang, unanswered. I wanted to throw my phone, to storm up to them and scream, Why would you betray me? But I froze, watching Reid cup Jade’s face in his hands, then kiss her fiercely, hungrily. My stomach turned. It was too much. I stumbled behind the thick trunk of an old maple tree and finally gave in, retching violently onto the grass. The man I had given my life to. The woman I had considered my only sister in this terrifying new world. They had coordinated a crushing blow on the happiest day of my life. Hollowed out, I leaned against the trunk. The breeze carried their voices back to me. “Reid, thank you for marrying me. Even if we can’t be public, just knowing I’m your wife makes me so happy.” “I know this is awful to Sylvie, but I truly love you.” Jade sounded sober now, her voice thick with tears. Reid gently wiped her face. “Don’t be silly,” he murmured. “We are the legal couple. Sylvie is busy with work, and sometimes she stays at the gallery to paint. We’ll be discreet, just like before. She won’t notice anything.” Jade began to sob more pitifully, throwing herself into his arms. “You’ve done so much for me. As soon as my grandmother recovers, we can finally get a divorce.” “Then I’ll give you back to her, whole and untouched.” Their words were like razor wire, tearing through my ear canals. I could barely stand. So, they had gotten together while I was pouring my time into earning our tuition and saving up startup funds. A stabbing pain spread across my chest. I couldn’t understand it. I had given them my absolute best. They used to bicker constantly, each claiming the other spent too much time with me, sometimes even fighting until they were red-faced. How could they now be rolling around together behind my back? My vision blurred. I reached up and tightly gripped the small jade pendant around my neck—the one that could only take one person home. If they were truly in love, I would give them what they wanted. I was done with both of these hypocrites. A blinding flash of light. CRUNCH! I was thrown backward. When I woke again, I was in a hospital bed. “Sylvie, I told you to stay home and rest! Why did you run out?” Reid was holding my hand, his grip tight, his skin scalding against mine. It was the warmth I had craved and depended on in this world, and now it was utterly repulsive. I pulled my hand away and looked past him to the window. Jade was sitting there, deliberately trying to appear aloof. As soon as I woke, she rushed forward, mimicking concern. “I was worried about Jade,” I stated, flatly. “I wanted to check on her.” The air in the room instantly became thick and silent. A flicker of panic crossed both their eyes, but they avoided looking at each other. “Unfortunately, I was hit by a car before I made it to her place.” I kept my voice calm. They both let out a small, almost imperceptible breath of relief. Their chilling synchronicity made my heart ache. “You don’t trust me?” Reid said, attempting a tone of fond exasperation. “Even if I can’t stand Jade, she’s your best friend. I would never fail to drop her off safely.” He reached out to playfully ruffle my hair, but I jerked away. His hand froze in the air. He stared at me, visibly confused. He clearly expected me to lean into his touch, to be dependent and clingy after the accident, as I always had been. Jade, seizing the moment, pouted. “Who needs you to drop me off anyway? If you hadn’t been so busy rushing to your gallery, Sylvie wouldn’t have been hit.” They began to argue, immediately blaming each other for my accident. If I hadn’t seen them entangled in a frantic embrace just hours before, I would have intervened, soothing them both as usual. Now, I watched their performance with cold indifference. My lack of reaction startled them. They exchanged a subtle, concerned look. Reid broke the tense silence first. “I’m going to get you some food.” He didn’t look at me, and his shoulders were hunched, the nervousness in his posture obvious. When the room cleared, only Jade and I remained. She broke the silence hesitantly. “Sylvie, last night, I was really drunk. I didn’t say anything stupid, did I?” Reid’s betrayal hurt, but Jade’s backstabbing was a deeper, more agonizing wound. We had shared everything since childhood, only to have her lie to me for a man. I knew she had always yearned to go back, to return to being the revered “County Princess.” When I discovered the one-person-only jade pendant, I had planned to hand it over to her, to let her finally go home. Instead, she had repaid my loyalty with a nightmare. I held her gaze until her composure broke. “You didn’t say a thing,” I finally said, pulling my eyes away. “I’m tired. You should go now.” I wanted her out, but she didn’t budge. “You look thirsty, Sylvie. Let me get you some water.” She didn’t wait for my refusal. She poured a glass and offered it to me. My nerves were raw. I reached out to gently push her hand away, just as Reid’s voice announced his return. “Sylvie! I brought your favorite, sweet and sour pork!” Jade’s hand twitched. The cup slipped, and boiling hot water drenched the back of my hand. “Ah!” The searing pain ripped a cry from my throat. Reid immediately dropped the takeout and ran to me. He grabbed my burned hand, his face etched with concern, but then he saw Jade clenching her reddened fingers. He immediately turned to her. “Sylvie, I’ll call the doctor for you!” he rushed out, but then grabbed Jade by the collar. “It’s all your fault! You hurt Sylvie! Get out of here right now!” he yelled, furiously dragging her out of the room. I looked down at the transparent blisters bubbling up on my skin. My heart ached, a deep, pulling pain. The man who once had eyes only for me now didn’t even see my injury. After the nurse treated my hand, I walked out of the room. I saw Reid carefully applying cream to Jade’s hand, holding it delicately as if it were spun glass. That was the moment I finally let go. I was dead to them.

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