Category: English

My dad, pitying my decade-long unrequited crush, decided to play Cupid by drugging his much younger friend and dumping him in my bed. When he woke up, Julian coldly agreed to marry me. But shortly after the wedding, Julian started taking frequent business trips abroad. One trip turned into three years. I gave birth to our daughter, Lily, alone and waited for him. Three years later, hearing he was finally returning, I skipped an important business meeting and took Lily to the airport to welcome him. Lily begged for a hug, but he just glanced at me indifferently. “Sorry, I’m a germaphobe.” From then on, Lily and I washed our hands three times before touching anything. The house was spotless. But he still didn’t come home. And he never hugged our daughter. Until I saw a video. Someone asked him: “Julian, what’s your happiest moment?” He replied casually, “Last week abroad. Putting Jojo to sleep, then pulling Kiki into the bathroom.” Amidst the cheers, my blood ran cold. Kiki was his lingering ex-girlfriend. Jojo was her daughter. Rumor had it that for the past three years abroad, they had been living together. Turns out, it was true. My heart died completely. I left the divorce papers, canceled our citizenship, and took my daughter abroad. 1 The nanny brought Lily back from kindergarten, her eyes swollen from crying. “Mommy, do I not have a daddy…” She hiccuped between sobs, utterly heartbroken. “Daddy promised to come to my parent-teacher conference, but when he arrived, he said he was Jojo’s daddy.” “Mommy, they all said I’m a kid with no daddy, waaaah…” A dull pain hit my chest. I hugged my daughter tightly, eyes reddening. I wanted to comfort her, but remembering Julian’s cold attitude, the words stuck in my throat. I regretted everything. I thought after three years, he finally came around and wanted to reunite with us. Turns out, it was just because Kiki wanted to come back. He bought tickets without hesitation, arranged everything, and even transferred his ex’s daughter to the best kindergarten. The day we picked him up at the airport, Lily wore her prettiest dress and asked nervously: “Mommy, will Daddy like me?” I nodded. “You are Daddy’s only daughter. Of course he will.” But when we arrived full of hope, we saw Julian holding Kiki’s hand, carrying a three-year-old girl. Lily and I froze. Julian glanced at me indifferently. “Sorry, I need to settle Kiki and Jojo first. You guys go home.” He didn’t even look at Lily, but gazed tenderly at Jojo. Thinking of this, I closed my eyes in despair. “Sorry, Lily. It’s Mommy’s fault. Mommy will go to your parent-teacher conference next time.” After washing Lily’s face and coaxing her to sleep, her little brow remained furrowed. “Daddy, hug me…” My heart felt like it was being pricked by needles. If not for that incident three years ago, Lily wouldn’t have to suffer like this. Three years ago, my dad, seeing me pine for Julian for ten years, drugged Julian’s drink and put him in my bed. I was shocked. “Dad, are you trying to kill me?” Dad sighed. “I’ve seen it long ago. You like Julian, and that kid likes you too, just too stubborn to admit it.” “That day when he was drunk, I heard him call your name. You two are too slow, might as well cook the rice.” I resisted, but suddenly felt my body heat up. Dad chuckled. “Your drink was spiked too. Cherish tonight.” Then the door was locked from the outside. After that night, Julian woke up and said coldly, “Vivian, I’ll take responsibility. Let’s get married.” I thought a happy life was about to begin. But at a party, I accidentally overheard him talking to friends. “Julian, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Vivian is hot, rich, and loves you. Just settle down.” Julian sneered while smoking. “At first I liked her too, but I didn’t expect her to be so easy.” “Thinking of how she drugged me and threw herself at me that night… it disgusts me.” Before I could explain, he got a visa and went abroad two weeks later. But that night gave me a child. I gave birth to Lily alone, waiting day and night for his return. What I got was his entanglement with Kiki and her daughter. The empty villa was silent. I took out my phone to call Julian and ask when he was coming back. Suddenly the door opened, and Julian walked in coldly. He glanced at the sleeping Lily and said casually, “Jojo is coming to play tomorrow. You and Lily go out.” Meeting my confused gaze, he smirked and explained, “Jojo is possessive. She can’t stand other girls calling me Daddy.” I had been holding back anger, and now it exploded. I laughed in anger. “Julian, do you even know who your biological daughter is?” “Do you know what happened to Lily at kindergarten today…” Julian frowned slightly, interrupting me. “Vivian, you don’t need to remind me.” “I’m sorry about kindergarten today. Jojo needed someone too. Kiki is divorced and raising a child alone is hard.” “Besides, before I met you, I swore to Kiki I wouldn’t let her suffer.” “I already married you as you wished. You can’t stop me from caring about them. I owe them.” Julian threw down his coat and went to the bathroom. The sound of running water drowned out my desperate sobbing. If I knew life would be like this after marriage, I would have died rather than submit that night. I smiled bitterly at the divorce agreement I just drafted on the computer. If not for Lily, with my personality, I would have divorced long ago. But thinking of Lily’s grievances, I wanted to try one last time. I didn’t want her to lose her father so young. Lily woke up early and jumped on her bed excitedly when she heard Daddy was back. “I’m going to show Daddy my drawing!” Kids forget easily. Lily had already forgiven Julian for yesterday. She ran downstairs happily. But she saw Kiki and Jojo. Julian was gently peeling an orange for Jojo. “Daddy, who are they?” Seeing Lily still home, Julian frowned. “Why are you still here? Where’s your mom?” Lily was scared but carefully presented the family portrait she spent a week drawing. “This is the family portrait I drew for Daddy…” Just as she handed it over, a small hand snatched it rudely. “What a trash drawing!” Jojo stomped her foot and tore it in half. She put her hands on her hips arrogantly and shoved my daughter hard. “This is my Daddy! Lily, everyone says you’re a bastard child! Who allowed you to call him Daddy!” Seeing Lily crying on the floor, I rushed over, helped her up, and glared at Jojo. “Apologize.” Julian frowned, displeased. “Vivian, why are you so mean to a child?” He picked up Jojo without a word. “I told you last night Jojo hates others calling me Daddy.” “She’s just upset, she didn’t mean to push Lily.” I stood my ground. “Didn’t mean to? Didn’t you see it?” “Julian, she just called Lily a bastard. Tell her, is Lily really a bastard?” Julian hesitated, but still comforted Jojo softly, with no intention of apologizing. Kiki rolled her eyes and apologized with a fake smile. “Miss Song, so sorry. Jojo grew up abroad, she’s outspoken. Don’t take it to heart.” Hearing this, the girl in Julian’s arms looked even more smug. “I’m not wrong! Classmates said Lily is a bastard! She stole my Daddy!” I clenched my fists, staring coldly at Julian. He said he was a germaphobe, so Lily and I endured it. He used overtime as an excuse to mess around with another woman, and I turned a blind eye. But now, I can’t tolerate anyone calling my daughter a bastard. “Julian, I’m asking you again—” “Is she?”

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I was the daughter of the recently bankrupt Ji family. To save the company, my father married me off to the newly minted tech tycoon, Luke Yan. No one knew that Luke was the ex-boyfriend I had ruthlessly dumped. On our wedding night, he looked at me coldly: “Don’t think I still have feelings for you. Marrying you is just a temporary measure. Once the acquisition is over, we’re divorcing.” Suddenly, a row of bullet comments floated across my vision. [The villain’s body is soft, only his mouth is hard.] [Supporting Actress, don’t believe him! I testify he drools over your photo every night.] [Villain on the outside: Don’t think I like you. Villain on the inside: Boohoo, why isn’t wifey comforting me yet?] [Supporting Actress, you’re confused! Trust me, call him ‘Hubby’ once, and he’ll instantly turn into a love-sick puppy, licking your boots clean.] Watching Luke prepare to leave, I tentatively called out: “Hubby?” The man’s figure froze instantly. His deep eyes locked onto me, looking like he wanted to devour me whole the very next second. 1 “What did you just call me?” Luke’s voice was hoarse. Though still cold, the “keep away” aura from moments ago had vanished. Knowing the bullet comments’ advice worked, I immediately softened my tone: “Can you not leave? It’s thundering outside, I’m scared.” I wasn’t lying. Since my grandma passed away, I’ve been terrified of thunder. Luke knew this. He stared at me for a long time. Just when I thought he would leave, Luke took pajamas from the closet and went into the bathroom. Didn’t he shower already? Since when did Luke become such a germaphobe? The bullet comments went wild: [Silly baby, that’s not being a germaphobe, that’s hehehe…] [Supporting Actress called him ‘Hubby’ and the villain is probably burning up. If he doesn’t hit the bathroom now, he’s gonna embarrass himself.] [Can’t blame him. The villain hasn’t touched a woman in years, relying on the clothes and photos the Supporting Actress left behind. It’s understandable he couldn’t hold back.] [Ah, even in there, the villain is whispering the Supporting Actress’s name. These two are pure love!] [Upstairs, do you have a misunderstanding of ‘pure love’?] I was stunned reading the comments. Is this a comment section or a red-light district? Why are the black texts getting yellower and yellower? My face flushed red. I resisted the urge to eavesdrop at the bathroom door, changed into my pajamas, and lay on the bed. An hour later, Luke came out of the bathroom. He wore only pajama pants, shirtless. I had to admit, I’ve never seen a man with a better body than Luke. It was the ceiling of lean muscle, oozing sexual tension. Crystal droplets slid down his firm pecs and abs, slowly disappearing into his sexy V-line. I couldn’t help but swallow. 2 “Seen enough?” The man’s voice was emotionless. I immediately looked away: “Who’s looking at you?” Bullet comments: [You’re not happy when you look, not happy when you don’t.] [As soon as the Supporting Actress looked away, the villain’s brows knitted into a knot.] [Don’t be afraid, Supporting Actress! We don’t just want to look, we want to touch! Bet you if you touch him, the villain has to go to the bathroom again?] Of course, I didn’t dare touch him. I knew how strong Luke was. He had endless brute strength. Before I could even touch him, he might snap my wrist the next second. The bullet comments were a bunch of chaos-lovers. The man beside me seemed to hesitate for a while before taking another quilt from the closet and lying down. A king-sized bed, forcibly divided by a river. [Won’t share a quilt with wifey now? Just wait until she dies, you’ll be crying over her photos every night.] [Cherish the days you can still see the Supporting Actress. She’s the most beautiful character in the book, and soon she’ll be gone.] Yes, from the comments earlier, I knew I was going to die soon. This world seemed to be a “crematorium” angst novel (where the male lead regrets treating the female lead badly). Luke was the villain, and I was his early-dying “White Moonlight” (first love). The protagonist was Luke’s half-brother, Lucas. Luke’s mother committed suicide due to depression caused by Lucas’s mother’s interference. Since then, Luke lived a poverty-stricken life with his grandparents. This caused him to harbor hostility towards Lucas. Although it was just the beginning of the story, their companies were already showing signs of rivalry. The real fuse would be my death. I was supposed to go abroad for work the day after the wedding. Abroad, I would encounter Lucas’s friends. To vent anger for Lucas, they hired some local thugs to teach me a lesson. Unexpectedly, the thugs coveted my beauty, assaulted me, and threw my body into the sea. Thus, Luke went completely mad, reaching a point of no return with Lucas. But how could a villain beat the protagonist? In the end, Luke died in the same sea where I had my accident. Seeing this, I immediately took out my phone and canceled my flight for tomorrow morning. I told my assistant to change tomorrow’s meeting to online. If the other party disagreed, cancel the cooperation. Making money isn’t as important as staying alive. Bullet comments: [?? The Supporting Actress isn’t going abroad? Great! She’s so beautiful, it hurts to think of her dying so miserably.] [This is a rare romance novel villain who doesn’t fall for the heroine. The villain had such a miserable childhood, author please give him a good ending.] [No matter how miserable, it doesn’t change the fact that he hurt the male and female leads. How can anyone whitewash the villain? Do you have any morals?] [Fine, fine, upstairs is noble. I wish you to still love the brother who took everything from you after experiencing everything the villain did.] [Honestly, if I went through what the villain did, my resentment could feed ten evil gods.] 3 I was engrossed in the comments when the man beside me turned over, letting out a pained groan. Luke had an old injury from being hit by a heavy object at a construction site years ago. It hurt whenever it rained. Thinking of the comments saying he stayed a widower for me for decades and eventually died in the sea with my ashes… My eyes felt hot. My hand tentatively reached into his quilt, slowly climbing onto his shoulder. I felt Luke’s body freeze, but he didn’t stop me. Until my hand touched his chest muscles, Luke’s breath hitched. He grabbed my hand, voice hoarse: “What are you doing?” I pursed my lips: “Where’s the medicated oil? Shall I rub it for you?” The man’s grip on my hand tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing violently. I knew what Luke was thinking. Before we broke up, I used to massage him often, but every time, things would spiral out of control. The more I thought, the hotter I felt. I quickly pulled my hand back and turned my back to him. “If you don’t want to, forget it. Sleep.” [Ahhh, Supporting Actress, why did you retreat? The villain’s string of reason was about to snap!] [Don’t worry. Since the Supporting Actress isn’t going abroad, that string will snap sooner or later. Dilated pupils are her destiny.] The comments were too much. I simply closed my eyes and pulled the quilt over my head. Maybe because the wedding was too exhausting, I unknowingly fell asleep. 4 The next day, I woke up suffocating. Opening my eyes, my face was buried in the man’s full chest muscles. Luke was holding me in his arms. His large hand tightly circled my waist. When did I crawl into Luke’s quilt? I struggled a bit. Luke seemed to sense it and dissatisfiedly hugged me tighter. My head was buried in his chest again. I endured and endured. Finally unable to bear it, I struggled out of Luke’s arms and took a breath. How can a man’s muscles be this hard? Hard as iron, almost suffocated me. I went to the bathroom to wash up and found clear bite marks on my neck in the mirror. [Supporting Actress, don’t doubt it, the villain bit you.] [Ahhh, who understands how I felt watching the villain bite her last night? His behavior is really like a dog marking its territory.] [Thinking of the villain carefully scooping his wife into his arms yesterday and stealing several kisses makes me laugh.] Fingering the bite marks Luke left, I couldn’t help but chuckle. [??? Wait, why is the Supporting Actress laughing too? Does she enjoy being bitten by the villain?] [Okay, okay, the villain is perverted enough, now the Supporting Actress is perverted too. Shipping them is my destiny.] Ignoring the comments, I happily went to the kitchen to make breakfast. I didn’t have time to observe yesterday, but now I saw Luke’s home was terrifyingly cold and hard. The whole house only had three colors: black, white, and gray. Because he disliked others touching his things, there wasn’t even a servant. The fridge was pitifully empty. I took out a can of luncheon meat, muttering to myself. “I really don’t know how he lived these years.” “What are you doing?”

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1 At the company dinner, my girlfriend’s childhood sweetheart accused me of stealing his diamond watch. In front of everyone, he snatched my briefcase and dumped its contents onto the floor. When I demanded to see the security footage to clear my name, my girlfriend, Isabelle, just looked at me with contempt. “Leo, I know your mom’s medical bills are piling up, but that doesn’t give you the right to steal.” With that one sentence, my fate was sealed. Everyone was convinced I was a thief. I was ostracized by my colleagues and mocked by the man she truly loved. Eventually, I took my mother and disappeared without a word. But Isabelle, the high and mighty CEO who had never looked down, spent the next five years searching for me like a madwoman. … When I returned to the private dining room, everyone stared at me. I could feel their strange, accusing glances, but I was too preoccupied to care. “Ms. Meng,” I said to Isabelle, “something’s come up. I have to go. You all have fun.” The hospital had just called. My mom was feeling down after her chemo session, and they asked if I could come and sit with her. But Richard, Isabelle’s golden boy, stepped in my way. “In a hurry to sell off the goods, Leo?” I was completely lost. “Sell what off?” “Still playing dumb? You’re a thief. You stole my diamond watch.” My brow furrowed. “Richard, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t steal anything.” He shot me a look of pure disdain. “We all went out to watch the floor show. You were the only one who stayed behind in the room. If it wasn’t you, who else could it be?” I’d stayed behind because my mind was a thousand miles away, consumed with worry for my mother. A song and dance performance was the last thing I could stomach. “You can’t just make accusations like that without proof,” I said, my voice tight. “That’s slander.” Richard’s eyes flicked to the briefcase in my hand. “You stole my watch, and now you’re rushing off to fence it. I bet it’s still in that bag.” He spoke with an air of command. “Open your bag. Let me see.” “That’s just your assumption, Richard. I told you, I didn’t take it, and you have no right to search my property.” “I think you’re just scared.” Before I could react, he lunged forward and ripped the briefcase from my grasp. He unzipped it and turned it upside down, shaking it violently. A thick stack of my mother’s medical reports and treatment plans fluttered to the floor like dead leaves. I’d already been on edge for weeks, crushed under the weight of my mother’s illness. His blatant disrespect was the final straw. Something inside me snapped. I snatched my briefcase back, my voice shaking with rage. “What the hell is wrong with you, Richard? Have you no decency?” He ignored me, crouching down and sifting through the scattered papers. From the pile, he produced a watch, its face glittering with diamonds. He held it up to my face, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, Leo? What do you have to say for yourself now? You’re a thief.” I stared at the watch, stunned into silence. “I don’t know… I didn’t take it…” Richard let out a short, cruel laugh. “It was in your bag, but you didn’t take it? What, did it just grow legs and walk in there by itself?” One of my colleagues spoke up. “Maybe there’s been a misunderstanding. I’ve worked with Leo for two years. He’s not that kind of person.” “You can know a person’s face, but you can never know their heart,” Richard said smoothly. “Two years is nothing if someone is putting on an act.” After the initial shock wore off, a cold clarity settled over me. I hadn’t stolen the watch, but it was in my bag. Someone had planted it there. And the only person here who had it out for me was Richard. He and Isabelle had grown up together; he was the one she’d never gotten over. He’d come back from America a month ago and had been targeting me from day one. I lifted my head and pointed to the security camera in the corner of the ceiling. “Pull the footage. I’m just as curious as you are to see how your watch ended up in my bag.” Richard didn’t flinch. “Fine by me. Let’s see how you talk your way out of this one.” Just then, another colleague pointed toward the wall socket. “Hey, look. The camera’s unplugged.” My eyes shot to Richard. Of course. No wonder he was so calm. He’d planned this. He seized the opportunity. “It must have been you, Leo! You unplugged it and then pretended you wanted to see the footage. Who do you think you’re fooling?” But he was mistaken if he thought that was enough to frame me. “Then let’s call the police,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Let them clear my name. If I’m the one who unplugged the camera and stole the watch, my fingerprints will be on the plug, the watch, and all over your things.” Seeing my phone, Richard’s composure finally cracked. He quickly adopted a magnanimous tone. “Look, I’ve got my watch back. I don’t want to press the issue. Calling the police would just create negative publicity for Isabelle’s company. Let’s just drop it.” “It’s not dropped for me,” I said, my gaze fixed on him. “I didn’t steal your watch. Unless you admit, right now, that you framed me, I’m calling the cops.” He hesitated, then his eyes darted to Isabelle, his expression shifting to one of wounded innocence. “Isabelle, for your sake, I’ve been more than generous. But he’s insisting on making a scene. It’s only going to embarrass you.” Isabelle’s lips thinned, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes as she looked at me. “Ms. Meng,” I started, my voice pleading, “I didn’t steal…” She cut me off. “That’s enough. This conversation is over. No one is to speak of this again.” I couldn’t hide the wave of despair that washed over me. Not only had she not defended me, but she had chosen this ambiguous, damning silence. If this wasn’t cleared up now, I would be branded a thief for the rest of my life. I shook my head firmly. “No. I need my name cleared. Tonight.” Isabelle’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Leo, don’t push it. Are you addicted to playing the victim?” Then came the final blow. “I know your mom is sick,” she said, her voice laced with cold pity. “I know you’re desperate for money. That’s why you went after Richard’s watch.” I just stared at her, numb. “You… you don’t believe me?” She looked down at me from her pedestal. “How am I supposed to believe you? You have the motive. The evidence is right there. We have a witness.” “Leo, I told you I would help you with the money. Did you really have to do this?” I looked up at her face, the face I had loved, and it was the face of a stranger. With their CEO’s verdict delivered, the rest of the employees quickly fell in line, their whispers turning into a chorus of condemnation. “I can’t believe we have a thief in our company. What a disgrace!” “I always knew there was something shady about him. My coffee kept disappearing from the breakroom. I bet it was him.” “He’s so cheap. I strongly recommend he be fired!” “Fire him!” Isabelle’s face darkened. “I said that’s enough. This matter is closed.” The room fell silent, but their eyes still burned with scorn. The hospital called again. After taking the call, I walked out of the room and into the cold night. The wind was biting, but it was nothing compared to the ice in my heart. A Rolls-Royce pulled up beside me. The window rolled down, revealing Isabelle’s perfect profile. I ignored her and kept walking. “Get in the car,” she commanded. “Do you want everyone to see you like this?” “I wouldn’t want to trouble you, Ms. Meng. This way, there’s no risk of being seen together.” I hailed a taxi and got in, leaving her behind. We had been together for three years, a secret relationship. At first, it was my choice. I wasn’t sure how long we would last, and I didn’t want to be the subject of office gossip, labeled as some gigolo who’d latched onto the boss. But ever since Richard had returned, everything had changed. Her patience with me had worn thin, and her contempt was palpable. I knew it was over. After calming my mother at the hospital, I decided to quit. But I couldn’t be reckless. My mom’s treatment was expensive. I had to find a new job first. From that day on, life at the office became a living hell. Led by Richard, my colleagues isolated me completely. They’d “forget” to tell me about meetings, leaving me to be reprimanded in front of everyone. I’d find my chair mysteriously soaked with water. At lunch, all that was left for me were cold scraps. I lost ten pounds in a week. One afternoon, I was coming downstairs after delivering a file when I saw a group of them crowded around the office entrance, pointing and jeering at my mother. “So, what do you have to say about your son being a thief?” “They say a child’s failings are the parents’ fault. We heard Leo’s father isn’t in the picture. Did he learn how to steal from you?” My mother, her face pale and drawn, tried to defend me. She told them I had always been a good, obedient boy, that I would never steal. She said that even though she wasn’t educated, she would never teach her son to do something wrong. They treated her words like a joke, their laughter sharp and cruel. Someone shoved her. Weakened by months of chemotherapy, my mother stumbled and fell, the lunchbox she was carrying scattering its contents across the pavement. I saw red. I charged into the crowd, pushing them back. “Get away from her! All of you, get out of here!” The one who had pushed her just sneered. “I barely touched her. Look at her, playing dead on the ground. You two are probably just broke and looking for a payday.” I grabbed him by the collar. “My mother has a tumor. If anything happens to her today, I swear I will make you pay.” “If she’s sick, she should be in a hospital, not out here bothering people.” My mother had always been my entire world. I raised my fist to strike him. But she grabbed my wrist. “Leo, don’t…” We had always been on our own, with no one to rely on. My mother lived in constant fear of me getting into trouble. I lowered my hand, but shoved the man away with all my strength. I turned to my mom. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” She shook her head. “I’m fine.” Her voice was laced with guilt. “But the food I made for you… it’s all ruined. It’s my fault. I’ll go home and make you some more.” I had visited her yesterday, and she’d noticed how thin I’d gotten. She’d blamed herself, saying she was a burden and that I should stop spending money on her treatment. I told her I was just craving her cooking, that once she was better, she had to cook for me every day and fatten me up. I couldn’t believe it. She had made my favorite dish—her famous meatballs. I could only imagine the effort it took for her, in her frail state, to prepare them. I knelt, picked up one of the fallen meatballs from the dirty pavement, and took a bite. “It’s delicious, Mom. Just as good as always.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Leo, don’t eat that! It’s dirty! I’ll make you a fresh batch, I promise.” Just then, the black Rolls-Royce pulled up. Richard got out of the passenger seat and shot me a contemptuous look. He turned to Isabelle in the driver’s seat. “Isabelle, I don’t believe there’s a company policy that forces employees to eat garbage off the ground, is there?” Isabelle emerged from the car, her face a mask of cold fury. She looked from me to my mother with disgust, then waved the crowd away. She turned on me, her voice sharp. “Leo, what have I ever done to you to deserve this? First stealing, and now this? Who are you trying to embarrass?” I looked at her, my heart sinking. “I didn’t steal anything, Isabelle. And this isn’t garbage. This is the food my mother made for me.” My mom rushed to explain. “He would never steal, there must be some misunderstanding, my Leo would never…” Isabelle turned and walked away, not even giving her a second glance. My mom tried to follow, but Isabelle sidestepped her as if she were contagious and disappeared into the building. Watching her back, I felt my world collapse. This was the woman I had loved for three years? The stress was too much. My mother’s eyes rolled back, and she collapsed. I frantically called an ambulance. After a tense wait at the hospital, the doctor told me she was stable but that her condition was deteriorating. He mentioned a specialized clinic in Riverbend City that had a high success rate with her type of tumor. The treatment would cost around fifty thousand dollars. He urged me to transfer her as soon as possible. I sat alone in the sterile hospital corridor, my mind a blank. Fifty thousand dollars? Where was I going to get that kind of money? A pair of gleaming leather shoes appeared in my line of sight. I looked up. It was Richard. He held out a bank card. “Leo, I know you need money. There’s fifty thousand on this. Take it, and disappear from Isabelle’s life. Forever.” The old me would have slapped the card out of his hand and told him that when I left Isabelle, it would be on my own terms, not his. But my mother’s life was on the line. She had sacrificed everything for me. I couldn’t abandon her now. I swallowed my pride. I bowed my head and took the card. “I’ll leave,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “But I’ll pay this back. It’s a loan.” A triumphant smile spread across his face. “I always told you, you and Isabelle are from different worlds. You were just a novelty to her. I’m the one she’s meant to be with.” I murmured my blessings, my voice hollow. “Then I wish you a long and happy life together.” Richard left, satisfied. Not long after he was gone, my phone rang. “Hello, is this Mr. Miller?” “Speaking.” “This is the manager of the Grand Crest Hotel. We were doing maintenance on our security system today and discovered that the camera in your private room has a battery backup. We have the full recording from the night of the incident with the watch.” He paused. “I thought you might find it useful.”

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What do you do when your husband suddenly becomes filthy rich? Divorce him. Immediately. Every second you hesitate is a second you lose. The day Gavin Sterling became the richest man in River City, I took half his assets and walked away with a smile. His eyes were bloodshot as he grabbed my shoulders. “Luna, you are heartless!” Ten years. The pig I raised was finally fat enough to slaughter. Who understands this joy? 1 I think I’m the first woman who wanted a divorce specifically because her husband got rich. The reason was simple. I discovered Gavin Sterling was thinking about cheating. He was one step away from crossing the line. After a brief moment of shock and sadness, I felt relieved. Actually, five years ago, when his company got its first round of VC funding and started exploding, I had a premonition this day would come. Gavin couldn’t escape the law of nature: men go bad when they get rich. Gavin didn’t know that when he and his buddy, Xavier, were discussing his potential infidelity in the study, I was standing right outside with a tray of coffee. “Hey, Gav, that TV host Bella is pretty hot. What do you think?” Gavin replied lazily, “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” “But you bought her a Maserati? That’s not how you spend money if you’re just looking, bro.” My fingers froze. My heart slammed against my ribs. A Maserati? Big spender. Then I heard Gavin’s tired voice. “It’s just a car.” “Ha! Alright, I’ll keep her warm for you. Maybe you’ll change your mind one day.” “Do whatever.” The conversation about Bella ended there, and they went back to talking business. It seemed like just idle talk between men over a cigarette. Not a big deal. I drank that coffee myself and stared at the ceiling until dawn. The irony was rich. When we got married, we were so poor we couldn’t afford a reception. Gavin was currently planning a grand wedding ceremony for me to make up for it. He felt guilty towards me, but that didn’t stop him from buying expensive toys for another woman. Heh. The human heart is unpredictable, and money is a deep ocean. Divorce. I had to divorce him. And fast! Delay leads to disaster. 2 I met with my divorce lawyer, Ryan, at a coffee shop. Coincidentally, the TV in the lobby was playing Bella’s financial talk show. This must be where Gavin met her. The young, beautiful host. Elegant, articulate, insightful. Even facing billionaires who were usually out of reach for normal people, she didn’t flinch. Ryan was an old classmate of mine, now a big-shot divorce attorney. Seeing me stare at the screen, he smiled. “Luna, that Bella looks a bit like you.” I snapped immediately. “Where?!” Bella had long hair. I had a bob. Ryan blinked, confused. “Everyone says so. We even talked about it at the reunion.” I frowned and scoffed. “That’s unfortunate.” I wasn’t in the mood to discuss Bella. I told him straight up: I wanted to divorce Gavin. “Luna, are you kidding? You finally made it to the good life, and you want out?” “Do I look like I joke about marriage?” I rolled my eyes. Our classmates had witnessed how recklessly I married Gavin back then. I couldn’t blame Ryan for being shocked. “You married him when he was dirt poor. You leave him when he’s the richest guy in town. Luna, you sure have a personality.” I replied slowly, “Ryan, I could handle the poor boy back then. Do you think I can handle the richest man in River City now?” “You’ve fought so many divorce cases. I thought you’d understand best.” Who knows the darkness and ugliness of human nature better than lawyers? Especially divorce lawyers. Ryan was speechless for a long time before he clicked his tongue and asked tentatively, “Gavin… did he cheat?” “He’s one step away.” “Then rein him in? Sentencing him to death now seems a bit harsh.” I snorted. “If I’m not harsh now, he’ll be harsh later. Ryan, tell me, in the cases you handle…” “Does the wife get more based on love, or based on the man’s guilt?” Once the mistress actually takes the throne, how much I get depends on their charity. I refuse to be the passive one! Ryan choked. “Luna, your calmness scares me.” Calmness? My calmness was cultivated over five years. Besides Bella, Gavin’s secretary, Holly, was also eyeing him like a hungry wolf. I can’t remember which day it was. I went to have lunch with Gavin. Through the crack in the door, I saw Holly standing on tiptoes to fix his tie. Then she carefully took a thermos of hangover soup from her own lunch bag. Holly was always making moves on him. He always refused. But that day, when the driver brought his lunch box home… The hangover soup I made was untouched. The knot I tied hadn’t even been loosened. Ash from my cigarette fell onto my finger. Ryan looked at me with deep emotion. “Luna, I should send my female clients to you for lessons.” I stubbed out the cigarette and smiled. “It’s useless. They aren’t willing, and they aren’t ruthless enough.” They aren’t willing to give up such an excellent husband to someone else. They think they can be the exception to the cliché. Unless it gets to the bitter end where faces are ripped off and love is dead, they can’t be ruthless. So, people shouldn’t be too greedy. Wanting money and the man? That leads to losing everything. I’m different. Because no one else does what I do: always plotting an exit strategy within the marriage. Of course. I will divorce him. But before I do… I need to use my status as Mrs. Sterling to have a little chat with Bella! 3 That evening, at the dinner table. I purposely put Bella’s show on in the background. It was the episode with Gavin. He touched his face. “What, you think I looked good that day too?” He acted flawless. Zero guilt. I almost believed the Maserati was a toy car. “Gavin, I saw a car I like.” He didn’t care. “Oh? Rare for you to care about cars. Which one? I’ll go with you to pick it up.” I looked at him calmly. “Maserati Levante.” His smile faded slowly. He looked at me with a calculating gaze. “I thought you liked Range Rovers?” I tapped the table. “Fine. Range Rover it is.” As long as it was more expensive than a Maserati. Not long after, I crossed paths with Bella. Her Maserati crashed into my Range Rover. I planned it. Unfortunately, her car was fragile. Bella stood helplessly by her car, glaring at my bumper with resentment. Two luxury cars colliding caused a traffic jam. The police arrived instantly. “Miss Bella, the dashcam shows you made an illegal U-turn. You are fully liable.” Bella looked heartbrokenly at her crumpled door, the shattered headlights, the bent bumper. “Couldn’t you have just let me go? I was prepared to take the points on my license, but now look, both cars need repairs.” Her eyes turned red, playing the victim immediately. Her entitled attitude stunned the cop. An angry male driver nearby shouted, “You’re used to people letting you have your way, huh? That’s a Range Rover! Why would she be scared of you?” “Satisfying! Only magic beats magic!” I watched the show enough, then slowly opened my door and got out. Bella’s accusations hit me in the face. “Why were you driving so slow?! Is the road a shopping mall? I wanted to pass, and you wouldn’t let me. Were you blocking me on purpose?!” “I was in a rush, I had no choice but to step on the gas, you—” Her words died in her throat when she saw me. Her face went pale instantly. I smiled. “Driving such a nice car, but still rushing to work for money? Seems a Maserati can’t change destiny.” “You need a good man for that. Then you could drive leisurely like me.” Bella gritted her teeth, face turning iron gray. She got back in her car without a word. She told the cop, “It’s settled, right? I’ll pay.” The cop nodded and hurried to clear the traffic. I watched her drive away thoughtfully and let out a cold laugh. I was in a hurry to divorce. But surprisingly, Bella was in more of a hurry than me. Or maybe she was just pissed I wrecked her car. A few days later, I received a video file from Xavier’s phone. At a square mahjong table, Gavin was sitting next to Bella, pointing at her tiles. Bella glanced at him sideways, voice dripping with sugar. “Mr. Sterling, which one should I play? My palms are sweating.” Gavin looked at her indulgently. “Whatever you want. If you lose, it’s on me.” The others at the table roared with laughter. When Bella looked down to draw a tile, her long hair fell forward. Gavin naturally picked up a hair tie from the table and tied her hair back for her. “Play well, okay?” My fingers trembled as I tugged at my own short hair. I slammed the phone off and threw it on the bed. A sour, aching feeling surged up. I couldn’t stand steady; blood rushed to my head. I gripped the edge of the desk tightly to calm myself down. If his cheating partner wasn’t Bella, I might have actually let him go peacefully. Not long after receiving the video, Xavier called. He anxiously defended himself. “Sis, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t recall the message. I didn’t mean to send it, it wasn’t me!” “Please, don’t tell Gavin.” I replied flatly, “I know it wasn’t you.” He let out a huge sigh of relief. “Don’t overthink it. You know how Gavin feels about you. That was just a social scene.” “I guarantee, I could cheat a hundred times and he wouldn’t cheat once!” “So someone is trying to drag him down.” He wiped imaginary sweat. “Yes, yes, Mrs. Sterling is sharp as always. My bad.” I hung up, bored. I didn’t believe a word from that playboy. But one thing was true. He wouldn’t dare send that video to me. Only a woman like Bella, with her “family heritage” of climbing the ladder, would do something like that! Xavier’s comment, “I’ll keep her warm for you,” proved he was interested in Bella too. He just didn’t dare snatch food from the tiger’s mouth out of respect for Gavin. It wouldn’t be hard for Bella to get his phone. I called Ryan. “How’s it going? Takes you a week to write a divorce agreement?” “No way, we’re old friends. I was giving you time to cool off.” “If I don’t get it tomorrow, I’m finding someone else.” “Alright, alright, fine.” Time to show my hand to Gavin. 4 I walked into the CEO’s office and made my demand straight away. “Gavin, I need you to do something for me.” Gavin leaned his elbows on the desk, fingers interlaced, looking at me with a measuring gaze. “Mrs. Sterling seems hostile today.” I leaned forward, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “I wouldn’t dare. I’m just here to ask Mr. Sterling for something.” “What?” I enunciated every word. “The keys to the Maserati Levante.” He froze. His face went through a kaleidoscope of expressions. We stared at each other for a few seconds, neither backing down. Finally, he tried to coax me helplessly. “Luna, that’s not important. It didn’t cost much.” His face said I was being unreasonable. “You’ve never been a petty person.” I couldn’t be bothered to argue. “Mr. Sterling, can you get them back?” Gavin stared at me intently, trying to gauge how serious I was. I stared right back. He gritted his teeth, rubbed his brow, and finally replied, “Fine. Tomorrow.” This was the first time I hadn’t given Gavin face. But it didn’t matter. Goal achieved. “Thanks.” I smiled faintly and turned to leave without hesitation. As my hand touched the doorknob, Gavin’s voice came from behind. “Luna, are you jealous?” I replied ambiguously, “You can think that.” Once I got the Maserati keys, I drove straight to the TV station and asked Bella out. In the cafe downstairs, Bella arrived late, looking haggard. Doesn’t feel good to have a gift repossessed, does it? “Miss Bella, please sit.” I raised my hand. Her eyes locked onto the car key next to my coffee cup, pupils shrinking violently! She sat down rudely and sneered at me. “Is Mrs. Sterling here to show off?” She flipped her hair, looking at me defiantly. “Mr. Sterling did ask for the key back, but for a man of his status, taking back a gift means an even more expensive compensation later.” I looked at her blandly. Of course I knew such simple logic. But I didn’t care. “And doing this really makes a man lose face.” I waited for her to finish, then slowly pushed the car key toward her. “His face doesn’t matter to me. Miss Bella, a Maserati isn’t worth showing off. I took it back because…” I paused. She looked at me warily. I chuckled. “I just wanted to give it to you personally.” She looked at me sharply. “What do you mean?!” I spoke slowly. “If you want it, I can give it. But you cannot snatch it. Understand, my dear sister?” Her face went instantly pale. The coffee in her hand splashed. She quickly put it down. I crossed my arms and sneered at her. At that moment, I was a porcupine with all quills out. Yes, Bella is my half-sister from a different mother. As of today, we hadn’t seen each other in twenty years. So we both pretended not to know each other. Actually, the moment I heard the name Bella, I knew it was her. At the accident scene, Bella recognized me immediately too. Her target was Gavin. How could she not research who Mrs. Sterling was? She just hadn’t officially ascended to the throne yet, so she kept a low profile. Based on my knowledge of her mother, Wendy, and their family education… Once she succeeded, Bella would put on a pitiful face and say, “Sister, I’m so sorry, I really didn’t know Gavin was my brother-in-law.” I wouldn’t give her that satisfaction! Divorce is fine. But letting Bella even smell Gavin? That would be my failure. She wants to pull the same stunt Wendy pulled on my mom? Impossible. Thanks to that mother-daughter duo, I learned a lesson very young. Never give anyone the chance to catch you off guard!

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I’m an NPC in a horror survival game. When a new batch of players loaded in, something weird happened: I could suddenly see the stream chat floating in the air. [Here she comes! Our precious baby girl has arrived!] [Even the Level Boss in this horror game is going to treat her like family.] [Any NPC who dares to touch a hair on her head is gonna get ripped to shreds by the Big Bad.] [Hey, I’m talking to you! You, holding our waifu! You scared her into fainting! You are SO done when the Boss gets here.] I looked down at the woman dangling from my grip, hesitated for a second, and then tossed her onto the floor. If the Boss of this dungeon can’t do his job properly, then I’ll do it for him. 1 I’m a veteran NPC in the horror game system. My tenure is so long I’ve honestly lost count of the years. I just remember the early days, when we were short-staffed, and I had to moonlight across multiple dungeons. I played the Drowned Bride in River God’s Wedding. I was the Cult Deity in Mountain Sacrifice. I was even the Mean Cheerleader in Oakwood High. Eventually, the roster filled up, and I got a permanent station. Three years ago, I transferred to this specific dungeon. Since the moment I gained consciousness, I’ve memorized the 108 rules of the Employee Handbook. Scare the players. Torture the players. Eat the players. The higher their Terror Meter, the better they taste. We’re only one day into this cycle, and I already snagged a player. A girl. She was so scared she cried until she passed out. Players like this usually die in the prologue. I was planning to take her back to my lair, bread her, and deep-fry her. The smell alone would make the ghouls next door cry with jealousy. But I’d only taken a few steps when the text started scrolling across my vision. [Let go of Baby Girl, you ugly freak!] [You are dead meat! The Male Lead is looking for her, and she has the ‘Family Bond’ buff with the Level Boss.] I stood there for a moment, feeling a wave of indignation. Who are you calling ugly? I am widely considered the cutest monster in a ten-mile radius. [She’s so soft and fragile, being held by that hideous thing must be terrifying.] [Look at that axe in her head! I’m gonna have nightmares.] I was mad. Furious, actually. I opened my mouth to curse them out, but the chat just spammed more insults. [What is it doing?] [Is it glitching?] [God, the AI is so stupid.] I got so angry that I circled back to being calm. Whatever. I ignored the floating text, grabbed the girl, and headed back to prep dinner. But I didn’t get far before someone blocked my path. I scanned him. New player. Probably part of the same party as the girl I was carrying. The guy in the lead was handsome, in a delicate, boy-band sort of way. Not my type. The moment they saw me, they tensed up and pulled out their items. The chat exploded, and I couldn’t help but peek. [The Male Lead is here! RIP Ugly.] [Chase has cleared so many dungeons. His items are S-Tier. He can one-shot a low-level mob like this, no problem.] I glanced at the guy. The chat called him “Chase.” Apparently, his gear was “OP.” I grinned, ripping the axe out of my own skull. I charged. Screams erupted. Half the players behind him bolted immediately. Sweet, sweet Terror Points. Come to mama! I sprinted at Chase with a twisted, limping gait. This little combo move usually makes players wet themselves. I learned the walk from the Nurse NPC next door. She died jumping off a building and broke her legs, so her walk is naturally janky. When I first mimicked her, she got super offended. It took me lending her my axe as a hair accessory to calm her down. She even gave me tips on how to limp scarier. Chase lived up to his “Male Lead” title. He waited until I was right in his face before deploying his item. A blinding white light flashed. I couldn’t see anything but the dense wall of chat comments. [AHHH! Chase is so cool!] [That ugly thing is dust.] [It’s a Legendary Item. An NPC doesn’t stand a chance. That’s what it gets for touching our Queen.] The light faded. Chase and I stared at each other in awkward silence. Then, I screamed. My axe! My beautiful axe had crumbled into dust! Chase looked horrified. “My S-Rank Holy Light… didn’t work on her?” The chat, serving as the third-party observer, was equally shook. [What the hell? How is that NPC still alive?] [Glitch? I swear Chase used that to one-shot a Boss in the last game.] [Isn’t this just an A-Rank dungeon? It shouldn’t be this hard. Plus Bella has the ‘Universal Adoration’ trait.] [Yeah, her synergy with the Male Lead is supposed to be perfect.] I was seeing red. My eyes literally started glowing. That axe was the one that killed me. It had been with me for… forever. The memory of the axe breaking tore open a sealed part of my mind. My father killed me. He called me a monster. When my mother was alive, he just hated me. After she died, I lost my only shield. He decided to dispose of “the freak.” That night, he walked into my room, face twisted in hate, the axe raised high. After I died, I used that same axe to return the favor. Violent, tyrannical energy flooded my brain. The chat scrolled faster. [Uh, guys? I think the NPC is going Berserk.] [Crap. If the Male Lead’s item didn’t work, is this a TPK (Total Party Kill)?] [No, look! Bella just woke up! She’s gonna trigger the plot armor. She’ll bring the Big Boss.] [Yeah, this NPC is about to get wrecked by the Level Boss.] I marched toward Chase, step by heavy step, muttering with obsession: “You broke my axe.” “You broke my favorite axe!” Chase’s face was pale. He threw items at me like they were free samples. They slowed me down, but nothing actually hurt. Just as my hand was about to close around Chase’s throat, a shout came from behind. “Stop!” The chat cheered. [Bella called the Big Boss to save the day!] [Sobbing, she’s right on time.] [Die, trash mob!] A familiar pressure weighed on my mind. My brain automatically pulled up the Employee Handbook. Rule 21: Within the dungeon, the Level Boss’s command is absolute. 2 A good employee always remembers the handbook. The rage in my brain began to recede. My eyes cleared. The chat became readable again. [Bella’s family is here!] [Imagine being a grunt NPC and bullying the Main Characters. Don’t you know the plot armor is thick?] The woman the chat called “Bella” threw herself at Chase, crying an ugly, snotty cry, checking him for injuries. “Oh thank god, you’re okay! I was so scared!” I covered my eyes. Hello? Single NPC right here? I died before I even hit puberty, have some respect! A familiar aura swept over me. Luke’s voice boomed above my head. “You’re the one bullying Bella?” The chat filled with schadenfreude. [It’s over. That blind NPC is toast.] [She’s getting arrogant for cannon fodder.] [The Male Lead is human, so he has limits. But the Boss? He’ll rip her apart in seconds.] [Bella is the ‘Group Pet’ of the horror world. All Bosses love her.] [Seriously, the last NPC who scared her got their head twisted off. It’s probably still rolling around that dungeon.] I slowly rotated my head 360 degrees to face Luke. I wasn’t trying to scare him; it’s just occupational habit. When he saw my face, Luke’s ghostly pale complexion shifted. Awkwardness mixed with a hint of fear. He let out a dry laugh. “Sweetie… oh, it’s you.” “Where’s your axe?” “Heh, I almost didn’t recognize you without it.” The chat froze for a second, then erupted in confusion. [Excuse me? Is this the ruthless Boss we know?] [Shouldn’t he be tearing her to shreds and telling Bella ‘I’m here, don’t be scared’?] [Am I tripping, or does the Boss sound… affectionate?] [What is happening? OOC! OOC! The book says they level up together. Bella charms the monsters, Chase kills the threats.] I gave Luke a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. Through gritted teeth, I said, “This human broke my favorite axe.” Luke instinctively wiped non-existent sweat from his forehead. He pulled me aside and whispered, pleading, “Sweetie, give me a break. Let it go this time, okay?” I looked up at him. “Do you remember the Employee Handbook?” Luke nodded. “I remember.” My face was stone cold. “Recite it.” Luke stammered through the recitation. Only then did I nod in approval. Luke whispered, trying to bribe me. “You know that item you always wanted? The one I wouldn’t give you?” “I’ll give it to you.” 3 My eyes lit up. It was a beautiful red wooden comb. I’d wanted it forever, but he’d always refused. Finally! I accepted the bribe and walked away, happily playing with the comb, glancing at the chat occasionally. The viewers were furious at Luke’s reaction. [What kind of Level Boss is this? Garbage! Just kill the NPC!] [He’s unworthy of being Bella’s family.] Some were curious. [Anyone else wonder what the relationship is between the Boss and that NPC?] I tilted my head, thinking about that comment. What relationship? Gratitude, probably. After all, Luke only became the Boss of this dungeon because of me. Back when Luke was a player, entering this dungeon for the sixth time, I caught him. I hadn’t had deep-fried human jerky in ages. Crunchy, dipped in a little blood sauce… the ghosts next door would drool. I dragged Luke back to my lair. Just as I was about to prep him, he used a “Scapegoat” item and bailed. Because of that item, when he faced the original Boss, he managed to kill it, but the item’s curse bound him to the dungeon, making him the new Boss. We’re neighbors. We see each other all the time. He tried to bully me at first. He blamed me for wasting his Scapegoat item—if I hadn’t caught him, he would have saved it for the Boss fight and escaped the game entirely. Becoming a Boss amplifies your rage and malice, so he tried to torture me. It didn’t work out for him. I beat the living daylights out of him. The Owner even punished me by making me copy the Employee Handbook for two weeks because of it! I happily walked home with my new comb. I only work one hour a day. The Owner says scaring players 24/7 devalues the product. Supply and demand, or something. Dungeons have rules. I missed my snack today, but there’s always tomorrow. The game lasts five days. Plenty of chances. I lay in my small room, but the chat wouldn’t shut up. [Ahhh! Chase is so handsome! Hero saving the beauty!] [Bella is so delicate. They are perfect together.] [Ugh, that NPC is even uglier without the axe. Get away from Bella!] I sat up, annoyed. Do these people have eyes?! I jammed the red comb into the hole in my head where the axe used to be and checked the mirror. I am adorable! The Owner told me I am the cutest girl in the world. Thinking of The Owner, I rested my chin in my hands, smiling. 4 Nobody in the dungeon—NPC or player—has ever seen The Owner. Some say he’s a God. Who else could create this nightmare dimension? Some say he’s a higher-dimensional alien. Usually, he appears as a ball of light. But I’ve seen him. The real him. I’m going to work for him forever. With my axe broken, more memories unlocked. The Owner is beautiful. But his hands are cold. The first time I scared a player into tears, he patted my head and said, “Good job, Sweetie.” Right. “Sweetie.” He gave me that name. When we first met, I had an axe stuck in my skull. I charged at him, screaming. He just bent down and picked me up. “Do you want to come with me?” I snarled and struggled. My own father wet his pants looking at me, but this man gently brushed the hair out of my face like the axe wasn’t even there. “You’re very cute. Do you have a name?” “I have a name!” I roared. He tilted his head. “No name? Let me give you one.” “How about Sweetie?” He ignored my protests, smiling. “Sweetie it is.” He led me into the Dungeon World. Years ago, there weren’t many dungeons. Most players died fast. The Owner had free time. He’d braid my hair. He’d draw whiskers on my face like a cat. He’d look at me with that teasing smile and say, “I think you look pretty like this.” I sighed softly. I missed him. I was so bummed out I stopped reading the chat. The next night, my shift started. The players were smarter now. They figured out the rules. Dungeons aren’t instant-death traps. There are patterns. I circled around but couldn’t find an opening to attack without breaking the rules. The chat mocked me. [LOL, look at Ugly go.] [She swapped the axe for a comb. Fashion icon.] [She’s so mad. Bella and the crew figured out the mechanics.] [Look at her spinning in circles.] [First-person NPC cam is kinda funny, ngl.] I ignored them. When my hour was up, I clocked out. Dungeons aren’t impossible, but they are highly lethal.

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My fiancé accused me of murder. That’s how I ended up in prison. On the day of my public trial, the court live-streamed the proceedings for the entire nation to see. The man who once loved me, Aiden, pushed me onto the Memory Trial platform, a fate reserved for the worst death row inmates. But they didn’t know something crucial. Buried in my mind was the proof: the real killer, his perfect first love, framing me for her crime. 1. Today was the day of my execution. Shackled at the wrists and ankles, I was led from my cell to the courtroom by two stern-faced guards. As we entered, my fiancé, Aiden, lunged forward. His hands clamped around my throat, his voice a raw, furious roar. “Murderer! Why did you pull the plug on my mom’s oxygen?” He shook me, his face contorted with rage. “Killing my mother wasn’t enough for you? You had to put Livia’s sister in a coma, too!” I stared at him, my eyes hollow and empty. “I told you I didn’t do it. Would you believe me now?” “Bullshit! My mother treated you like a daughter! Why would you do this?” he screamed, his voice cracking. “Give me back my mom!” Police officers finally managed to tear him away, dragging him back as they shoved me toward the stand. I remained silent, letting them move me like a doll. A year ago, Aiden himself had pointed the finger at me. The motive they’d invented was simple: I was jealous of Livia, the woman he’d loved before me. I was bitter that his mother, Mrs. Vance, had never approved of our marriage. But it was all a lie. I was innocent. “Order in the court!” the judge’s gavel cracked against the wood. “This court hereby declares that the death sentence for the defendant will be carried out immediately—” “Wait!” Aiden’s voice, sharp and cold, cut through the room. “Your Honor, I formally request a Memory Trial for the defendant,” he said, his face a mask of grim determination. “Letting her die so easily would be a mercy she doesn’t deserve.” The judge conferred with his associates for a moment before turning his gaze back to me. “At the plaintiff’s request, the court orders a Memory Trial to be conducted for the defendant!” Still, I said nothing. No protest, no plea. The guards forced me onto the Memory Trial platform. The technology was new, developed only six months ago to prevent criminals from denying their guilt or recanting confessions. It was a tool to force the truth into the light. The process was agony. A needle-thin neural probe would be inserted directly into the brain to extract memories. It felt like every thought, every feeling, was being violently vacuumed out of your skull. Most death row inmates couldn’t withstand the pain; many died halfway through, their hearts giving out from the sheer torment. As they prepared the gleaming silver apparatus, I looked at Aiden one last time. “Aiden, I have one question for you.” His face was glacial, his eyes filled with a disgust that pierced me deeper than any needle could. “Ask it.” “After my memories are displayed for the world to see… will you regret any of this?” Aiden let out a short, harsh laugh. “Never.” A wave of numb despair washed over me. It was done. “Memory Trial commencing! Execution protocol officially initiated.” The probe plunged into my skull. My body convulsed, a scream tearing from my throat, but in the depths of that white-hot pain, I felt a strange sense of release. After a year of this living hell, I was finally free. On the massive screen above the courtroom, my stolen memories began to flicker to life. 2. The first scene was the hospital. Aiden’s mother, Mrs. Vance, was recovering from heart surgery. I was holding a container of homemade soup, about to go into her room, when I heard voices from inside. A heated argument. Mrs. Vance’s voice was frail, barely a whisper. “I will never… allow you to marry into this family…” “All those filthy things you’ve done… You’re not worthy…” Then, another voice, sharp and cruel. “You old hag. Once you’re dead, I’ll walk into the Vance family whenever I please!” My heart seized. I threw the door open. Livia was standing by the hospital bed, holding the clear plastic oxygen tube in her hand. On the bed, Mrs. Vance’s eyes were wide with terror, her face turning a horrifying shade of blue as she clawed at her own throat. I stared, frozen in disbelief. “Livia, what are you doing?” A flicker of panic crossed her face before it settled back into a chilling calm. “I was just helping Mrs. Vance adjust her oxygen tube.” I snapped out of my shock, snatching the tube from her hand and slamming the emergency call button on the wall. I tried to reconnect the tube, but it was too late. The heart monitor beside the bed began to scream, a single, piercing tone. “The tube was fine, Livia! What the hell were you thinking, pulling it out?” I yelled, my voice shaking. Livia just smiled, a venomous, triumphant little smirk. “Emma, did you really think marrying into the Vance family would make you a princess? Dream on. I was Aiden’s first love. All I have to do is cry a little, and he’ll come running back to me.” Just then, the door burst open. Doctors and nurses rushed in, and right behind them were Aiden and his father. “What happened?” Aiden demanded, his eyes wide. “Aiden, it was Livia! She—” “Aiden! Mr. Vance! Emma killed her!” Livia shrieked, bursting into tears and pointing a trembling finger at me. “She pulled out Mrs. Vance’s oxygen tube!” I stood there, stunned into silence. “No, I didn’t, I—” Aiden’s gaze fell to my hands. I was still holding the tube. From behind his back, where only I could see, Livia shot me a look of pure, wicked victory. “Emma, why would you do this?!” Aiden screamed, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me violently. “It wasn’t me, Aiden, you have to believe me! It wasn’t me!” I pleaded, tears streaming down my face, but his grief had already turned to blind rage. The sharp crack of his hand across my face echoed in the sterile room. Mrs. Vance couldn’t be revived. She was gone. The hospital room descended into chaos. As the first memory faded from the screen, a stunned silence fell over the courtroom. Aiden stared, his face ashen. “How is that possible? Livia swore she saw Emma pull the tube.” He looked at the screen, then at his father, his expression a mixture of confusion and dawning horror. “Dad… did we get it wrong? The Memory Trial… it can’t lie, can it?” Mr. Vance was equally stunned. All he and Aiden had seen that day was me, Emma, holding the murder weapon. They had never imagined a scene like this. The courtroom gallery erupted in murmurs. “Wait, so she didn’t do it? She was framed!” Aiden, snapping back to reality, shouted at the judge. “What about Livia’s sister, Julia? Emma was the one who ran her off the road! She’s still in a coma because of her!” The judge gestured to the technicians. The process continued, pulling another memory from the depths of my screaming mind.

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My oldest friend, a guy I’d practically grown up with, had done nothing to earn his stripes, yet he was trying to leverage his relationship with my wife to climb the corporate ladder. I refused, point blank. The consequences were swift and total. While I was gone on a year-long international venture—the kind of project that demands your entire focus—my wife, Seraphina, unilaterally promoted him to Executive Vice President, tripling his already generous salary. When I finally returned, jet-lagged and ready to reclaim my seat, my former friend, Brock Aston, acted like the company was his—his arrogance fueled by the certainty of Sera’s protection. Even the way he spoke to me was a calculated insult. “Don’t think for a second that just because you founded this company, you can push me around,” Brock sneered, his eyes hard and challenging. “As long as Sera’s in my corner, I could demand the chair you’re sitting in, and you’d have to hand over the keys.” Before I could process the audacity, he reached for a glass of water on the conference table and splashed it straight into my face. The cold shock was a sudden, violent wake-up call. I didn’t hesitate. I slapped him—hard enough to snap his head back—and fired him on the spot. What happened next was a choreographed coup. When Sera heard the news, she didn’t just object; she incited every employee in the room to hand in their termination notices. “Rhys Maxwell,” her voice cut through the stillness, cold and resolute. “Reinstate Brock immediately, or we all walk.” 1 The cavernous boardroom of Apex Dynamics was eerily silent. Every single person was waiting for Sera’s next command. They were all her hires, recruited while I was gone, replacing my loyal, long-term employees who had been quietly phased out during my absence. Brock, seeing his army assembled, let his mask of false camaraderie drop completely. He propped his expensive leather boots on the table, leaning back with a look of pure, unadulterated provocation aimed straight at me. “See that?” he drawled. “You want to fire me? Good luck with that. As long as Sera is here, you’d need her permission just to take a piss.” He took a slow, deliberate breath, the self-satisfied smirk widening. “Let’s be real. This company belongs to Sera now. You’re just the face, the rubber stamp—the puppet. You have zero actual power.” He let out a short, harsh laugh—a sound full of cheap victory. Then he pulled a cigarette out and lodged it between his lips. A crony immediately leaped forward to light it for him. Brock inhaled deeply, blowing the plume of smoke directly toward my end of the table. The haze of smoke did nothing to soften his brazen posture. “How’s that feel?” he asked, a venomous edge to his voice. “You hate me right now, don’t you? But what are you going to do? Nothing. You’ll just have to choke on it. Ha!” The “No Smoking” sign discreetly mounted on the wall meant nothing to him. My silence only fed his ego. “Though, I gotta say,” he mused, glancing at the nameplate on my desk. “EVP still feels a little low. That chair you’re in, Rhys? That’s the real prize.” The implication was clear: he intended to replace me. The audacity of this man—this incompetent, entitled leech—was staggering. I dragged my eyes away from him, letting them fall onto the mountain of stacked resignation letters. Then I slowly scanned the faces of the employees lined up against me. “You’re really going to commit corporate suicide for him?” I asked, my voice dangerously level. “For him? This man is dead weight. Is he worth throwing away your careers?” I leaned back, a bitter, weary amusement rising in my chest. I genuinely couldn’t fathom the depth of this misplaced loyalty—or idiocy. “You’re mistaken, Rhys,” a voice cut in from the doorway. “They aren’t doing this for him. They’re doing this because of me.” Every head snapped toward the door. In unison, their hostility evaporated, replaced by a sickening, deferential respect as they chorused, “Ms. Wells.” That honorific, Ms. Wells, was a direct strike. Apex Dynamics was my company, founded and built by me. Yet, they offered only cold disdain for me and utter reverence for her. “Thank you, all of you,” Sera said, gliding into the room. She reveled in their acknowledgment, standing taller, her usual composure now tinged with a smug superiority. When our eyes met, she offered me a cold, triumphant smile. “You see? If you insist on firing Brock, they walk. All of them. And when they walk, you won’t be able to replace this many people overnight. The damage to the company’s valuation? Think airplane crash fast.” 2 Her threat was a sharp, cold jab. My hands clenched into fists beneath the table, the knuckles white with strain. I couldn’t fathom her hostility. We were husband and wife. “Seraphina,” I ground out, my voice trembling with suppressed fury. “What the hell is wrong with you? Threatening me—your husband—over an outsider?” The sheer volume of my anger made my body shake. If I didn’t still love some phantom version of her, I wouldn’t have been this incandescently enraged. I knew the damage—a collective walk-out would be catastrophic. “Outsider?” Sera scoffed, crossing her arms. “He’s my chosen family, Rhys. My little brother. I watched him grow up. You think I’ll just stand by while you bully him?” She leaned forward, her expression hardening. “All he got was a promotion. Why do you need to fire him and publicly humiliate me?” Humiliate her? The irony was blinding. She was handing me charges of phantom crimes. “What exactly has Brock Aston accomplished for this company that warrants an instant promotion and three times the salary?” I demanded, laying out the facts. “As I recall, he hasn’t just failed to deliver—he’s personally bungled three major client pitches, costing us millions in projected revenue.” I should have let him go the second he proved to be a liability. The fact that I kept him on was a testament to my past loyalty, not my business sense. But to demand that I ignore his failure and reward him? They had both lost their minds. Facing my concrete accusations, Brock’s swagger slowly deflated. He turned quickly to Sera, his face a mask of wounded innocence. “Sera, see? He’s impossible,” he whined. “He blames me for his own failed projects. He purposefully sends me after dead-end clients just to make sure I don’t succeed! He’s trying to sabotage me!” His fabricated distress was the cue for the chorus of employees. “He’s a nightmare of a boss!” one yelled. “He deliberately kneecaps his employees to keep them down! It’s pathetic!” “Yeah! If we have to work for a self-serving tyrant like you, we’ll stick together and fight for a little justice for Brock!” “We stand against the corporate aristocracy!” Suddenly, the room was a cacophony of insults, a coordinated defense of Brock. I watched them all, these unfamiliar faces. They were all hers—a replacement guard brought in while I was focused on the bottom line overseas. The realization chilled me to the bone. She wasn’t just unfaithful; she was staging a total takeover. I thought back to her past. The struggling intern I’d found years ago, the one who barely knew how to draft a memo, who’d saved my life when I’d had a near-fatal cardiac event. I’d mentored her, taught her the business, elevated her, and ultimately fallen in love with her. Now, her ambition had consumed her. But I had faced down far greater threats than a handful of disgruntled payroll fillers. I picked up one of the resignation letters, a dismissive smile curling my lips. I tossed it onto the table in front of Sera. “Trying to spook me?” I scoffed. “I don’t scare easily. If you all want to quit and walk out, be my guest. The door is right there.” The entire room froze. My refusal to play their game—my willingness to call their bluff—threw them into a tailspin. Seraphina’s face instantly darkened, and the air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. “Are you serious?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. 3 “One hundred percent,” I affirmed. “Isn’t this what you wanted? You came here to bully me into promoting him. I don’t respond to threats. Anyone who wants to leave, go. The world won’t stop spinning without you.” Brock, panicked, started to stammer, looking desperately at Sera. “S-Sera, what about…?” “Relax,” she interrupted, her eyes never leaving mine. “As long as I’m here, he can’t touch you.” She stood up, her high heels clicking as she rounded the table, stopping right in front of my chair. She placed a hand on my shoulder, a gesture that felt sickeningly intimate and menacing all at once. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this, Rhys,” she purred, her breath sweet against my ear. “I wanted to keep you around as a figurehead, my puppet CEO, because, after all, you did give me a start. I was trying to be gracious. But you won’t play ball. You insisted on tearing up the contract.” I looked up at her, my eyes chips of ice. “What are you talking about?” She squeezed my shoulder, a light, mocking tap. “The company is mine, Rhys. I’m the one calling the shots. I used to be the one you called to fetch your coffee, but now I’ve acquired the shareholders. I am Apex Dynamics. I decide who gets promoted, and who sits in this chair. Do you understand?” Brock bolted to his feet, ecstatic. “Sera… Seraphina! Is it true?” She turned to him, her expression softening into pure adoration. She nodded. Brock let out a whoop, grabbed her, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her—a long, vulgar embrace right in front of me. The other employees merely looked away, relieved for their own futures. Rage, pure and undiluted, consumed me. In the year I was gone, Seraphina hadn’t just betrayed our marriage; she had stolen my empire. “Ha ha ha! Are you mad, you pathetic joke?” Brock yelled, breaking the kiss to look at me. “Good! I’m not scared to tell you, I’ve been sleeping with Seraphina the entire time! All 365 days you were gone, we were in your bed, drunk and satisfied. What are you going to do about it, you spineless bastard?” The employees snickered. They all believed Sera. They believed I was already defeated. I kept my face deliberately calm, but internally, the ocean had been whipped into a monstrous, churning storm. I had truly underestimated her. My good wife had orchestrated this entire thing, and given this fool his false sense of power. They all thought I was a finished man. I swept up the pile of resignation letters, scattering them to the floor at my feet. I stared at the pair of them, my fists clenched hard enough to draw blood. “The empire I built from nothing is not something you can just seize,” I said, my voice quiet but carrying the force of a threat. “I am still the registered CEO. I have not signed any stock transfer agreements. So tell me, how exactly did my company become yours?” Seraphina didn’t flinch. She simply laughed, long and cold. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned back into Brock’s embrace, regarding me with a patronizing smile. “I knew you’d ask that,” she said. “And I have a little surprise for you.” She clapped her hands. “Gentlemen, please come in.” The door opened again, and a group of men—the company’s shareholders—walked in. Every single one of them bypassed me and directed their attention to Seraphina. “What… what is the meaning of this?” A cold, awful certainty solidified in my gut. “I’ll answer that for you,” Brock chirped, kissing Sera’s cheek. “They are here to help Seraphina take back Apex Dynamics—and kick you out.” 4 Sera rewarded Brock’s declaration with a deep, lingering kiss. “You are truly mine, darling. Your confidence is getting so strong, just like mine.” Brock glared at me, his face alight with avarice. “When you fully take over, let me have the CEO chair, okay? I’ve never played the part of the big-shot boss before.” The thought of that buffoon sitting in my chair was ludicrous. He was barely qualified to stock the water cooler. Sera stood tall, surveying the shareholders. She wanted a public declaration, to maximize my humiliation. “Gentlemen, in front of Rhys, please state your allegiance,” she commanded. “I wouldn’t want rumors spreading that I’m some kind of backstabbing traitor.” Instantly, the shareholders replied in a booming, unified voice: “We stand with Ms. Wells!” The sound was like a volley of bullets. These were men who had been with me for decades, who I had worked with to build this company from a tiny start-up into a publicly traded empire. We weren’t just partners; we were brothers. I’d been gone for only a year, and Seraphina had bought their loyalty and orchestrated a total betrayal. The blow was physically painful. “Why?” I demanded, the word raw. “I want to know why.” They didn’t look away. Their answers were chillingly clinical. “Ms. Wells offered us a better deal,” one stated, shrugging. “We are capitalists, Rhys. We go where the return is greatest.” I actually laughed. Better deal? I had always taken the smaller cut, ensuring they were rewarded generously for every major deal. I’d prioritized their financial security over my own. And this was the thanks I got. Brock, emboldened by the shareholders’ affirmation, was positively glowing. “Hear that, Rhys Maxwell? You’re finished! Not only do the employees disrespect you, but the shareholders don’t respect you either. You’re a failure in life! You worked yourself to death, and now we reap the rewards.” He gestured dismissively toward my chair. “What are you waiting for? Get out of that seat. You don’t deserve it. It’s mine now.” I completely ignored Brock. My focus remained entirely on Sera and the men who had betrayed me. I was surrounded, cornered, and entirely alone. Sera stepped closer, her tone dripping with false pity. “Look at your situation. If you’d just done what I asked and promoted Brock, none of this would be happening. I made you CEO, Rhys. I can just as easily turn you into a nobody.” My fists tightened, then loosened, then tightened again. Brock, too impatient to wait, motioned for the security team he thought he commanded. “Rhys Maxwell, two options,” he spat. “Walk out with what little dignity you have left, or be dragged out like a dog. Pick one.” I was Rhys Maxwell. I chose neither. “Foolish,” I said, a slow, predatory smile spreading across my face. “Without my signature on a transfer of stock, none of you have a damn thing. You can’t take what isn’t yours.” “Oh, really?” Sera’s smile was the most confident I’d ever seen it. She pulled a thick Manila envelope from her briefcase. “Then take a look at this.” She slapped the document onto the table. “You did sign it. Last month, when I flew out to see you. I used my ‘pining wife’ act—my Honey Trap—to confuse you while you were tired and emotional. I disguised this as a standard project proposal and had you sign where the critical signature lines were. How about that, Rhys? Did the student surpass the teacher?” As the blood drained from my face, Brock leaned in, a cruel whisper of a confession. “I went with her that night. And after you left, I came back in. Turns out my shot was stronger than yours. Seraphina’s carrying my baby, you loser.” The finality of the betrayal was a physical blow. Without conscious thought, I swung my fist, connecting solidly with Brock’s jaw. “You slimy bastard!” “You hit me?! Guards, take him! Strip him naked and throw him onto the street! Let the world see how the great Rhys Maxwell became a stray dog!” He screamed the orders, but the security guards remained utterly still. This infuriated Sera. “What are you waiting for? Are you deaf?” she shrieked. “I told you, seize Rhys Maxwell—” SLAP! My open palm met her face with a thunderous crack, the sound echoing in the silent boardroom. “You got it backwards, Seraphina,” I said, my voice a low, terrifying growl. “I’m the one who elevated you from nothing, and I’m the one who can send you right back to being a penniless intern.”

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We were filming a variety show, and the challenge was to write a “Three-Line Last Will and Testament.” I wrote: [Finally. I kicked the bucket. LOL.] Then it was the Movie King’s turn. He thought for a moment, then penned: [Chloe. I’m in Hell. And I miss you.] I froze. Because I am Chloe. The internet exploded. That night, the hashtag #LiamConfessesViaDeathNote nuked the trending topics on Twitter. Netizens commented: [He’s real for that. I’m sobbing. Loving her even from the afterlife? Is this romance or a horror movie?] 1 I am the entertainment industry’s most notorious “Solo Queen.” Single since birth. Never dated. Not once. Once, the paparazzi camped out for twenty-four hours straight, hoping for dirt. All they got was footage of me solo-polishing off an entire extra-large pizza. My agent, Max, sighed deeply. “Trying to get you a ship for clout is harder than climbing Everest. You don’t even have male mosquitoes buzzing around you.” So, he signed me up for a dating reality show—Love on the Line. The stakes were high. The guests were all A-listers, including the current box-office god, Liam. Before filming, Max grabbed my shoulders: “If you really hate men, go flirt with a pretty girl, I don’t care! Just get some screen time!” 2 I went in, shaking in my boots. For the first episode, the producers came up with a “unique” icebreaker. [Dear Guests: Assume you are about to die. Please write a three-line Last Will.] Guest #1, the Pop Princess, sighed and wrote: [Earth sucks. 1 Star. Never visiting again.] Guest #2 was the new Top Idol guy. He laughed at the Princess’s answer, said “Same,” and wrote: [Natural causes. Burn some cash for me. And for the love of god, wipe my browser history.] Guest #4, the Serious Actress: [Scan the QR code on my grave for my nudes. Oops, you’re late. File expired.] Guest #5, the R&B Singer: [This user is too lazy to write a will. He left nothing but these three lines.] Then, it was my turn. My honest thought was: [I’m dead. Please burn money, a mansion, and a hot guy for me in the afterlife.] But then I remembered the cameras were rolling. I should keep a shred of dignity. So I twirled my pen and wrote my masterpiece, showing the whiteboard to the camera: [Finally. I kicked the bucket. LOL.] The Pop Princess looked at my board and leaned in. “It’s supposed to be three lines. You only used one line for the content.” I nodded sagely. “Listen, this is a will. I’ve followed rules my whole life. If I’m dying, I’m done with formatting guidelines.” “My death, my rules!” The Princess looked speechless but impressed. “Valid point.” 3 The other guests finished their wills. [Alive, I beat 100% of dead people. Dead, I beat 100% of living people. I’m the G.O.A.T.] [One last time: Pineapple does not belong on pizza.] [Dad, send money. I’m broke in Hell too.] [Sleep is just a free trial of death. This time I’m buying the full version.] [Mom, don’t cook for me anymore.] [I have 3 million dollars hidden. I won’t tell you where. Good luck, kids.] [No alcohol at the funeral. And don’t visit on weekends, I’m off the clock.] [Type 1 in the chat on my grave, and I’ll haunt someone you hate.] [Preselling my next life. Certified authentic. No refunds.] Finally, it was Liam’s turn. He was the biggest star among us. The Movie King. A lot of industry insiders and netizens were confused. Why would someone with Liam’s status join a trashy dating show? He hadn’t spoken much all recording. If prompted, he’d give a short answer. He was like a high-functioning robot programmed only to execute basic commands. Zero variety show sense. Now, everyone’s eyes were glued to him. The Top Idol sitting next to me was practically drooling on Liam’s pen tip. Seeing him hesitate, he whispered, “Bro, hurry up. Time to leave your legacy.” Liam paused. For some reason, he glanced at me. Then he lowered his eyes and slowly wrote a few words. I was curious, too. I pretended to be nonchalant, but I was practically straining my eyes out of their sockets. But when he turned the board to the camera, I wanted to gouge my own eyes out. He wrote: [Chloe. I’m in Hell. And I miss you.] Everyone on set looked like they’d been struck by lightning. Their heads snapped toward me in perfect unison. I panicked and let out the driest laugh of my life. “Hahahaha…” Talk about bad luck. It’s like tripping over a stone and falling into a sewer. Because I am Chloe. 4 God help me. Sometimes, being alone on a variety show is a helpless experience. If the police handled awkwardness, I would have had Liam arrested immediately for disturbing the peace. Even though everyone here was a seasoned veteran of the entertainment deep fryer, Liam’s single sentence fried our brains. Even the host needed a minute to reboot. This definitely wasn’t in the script. Liam, however, remained as calm as a chrysanthemum. He slowly capped his marker, looked up with faux confusion, and chuckled softly. “What’s wrong? Why is everyone frozen?” “Is there a problem with my will?” The Pop Princess looked at me, then at him, and spoke first. “Yeah, big problem.” “This is a dating show, but aren’t you moving a little fast? Confessing in the first episode? My mother is shook.” The Top Idol nodded vigorously. “Yeah, bro, WTF? And confessing in a will? What kind of vibe is this? ‘Till death do us part’ taken literally?” The Serious Actress narrowed her eyes. “Bold move, bro. Dropping a nuke right at the start. That’s why you’re top tier.” Looking around, the only person with a rosy complexion was the Producer. His eyes were glowing with a frantic, eerie light. “Holy sh*t. We got our viral moment.” 5 For the next few days after filming, I avoided Liam like the plague. Even after we exchanged WeChat contacts, I sent a polite greeting and then never looked at his messages again. I just felt the guy wasn’t right in the head. A few days later, the first episode of Love on the Line aired. Liam’s three-line will containing my full government name caused a tsunami online. #LiamDeathNoteConfession stayed at #1 on the trending list for 24 hours straight. The heat refused to die down. The forums were more active than when that one idol got arrested. Netizens: [LMAO I can’t breathe. ‘I’m in Hell and I miss you.’ What in the gothic romance is this?] [He’s real for that. I’m crying. Imagine Chloe seeing that. Is she touched or terrified?] [If there wasn’t a three-line limit, I swear he would have added ‘The wind of my longing blows all the way to the Underworld.’] [Suggestion for Liam: Put a QR code on your tombstone. If she says yes, it links to your chat history. If she says no, it links to your heartbreak playlist. Ruthless! Hahahaha!] Me: “…” Sorry, this corpse is feeling a bit unwell. Signing off to go jump off a building to calm down.

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I’d known Diana for fifteen years, and loved her for four. She promised we’d get married on graduation day. But on that day, she became someone else’s bride. I stormed into the wedding, demanding a reason. The man beside her looked at me, his face a mask of pain. “Ron, man… I have cancer. I’m dying. Diana is just… she’s helping me grant my only wish.” My Diana, my love, stared at me, her expression hard. “I’ll explain when this is over. Now is not the time for you to make a scene.” I laughed, wished them a long and happy life together, and walked away. 1 On the day of our university graduation, Diana vanished. My friends were giving me strange looks, like they were holding back words that burned on their tongues. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I called Diana’s phone again and again, each unanswered ring echoing in the hollow of my chest. Then, a text from a friend popped up on my screen. It was a forward, simple and brutal. She’s getting married. An address was attached. At first, I thought it was a joke, some elaborate graduation prank. But the closer I got to the venue, the more a chilling certainty settled over me. When I arrived, Diana’s friends saw me at the entrance, their faces paling in panic. “Ron… what are you doing here?” My voice trembled as I pointed toward the grand doors. “Who… whose wedding is this?” 2 Diana and I were the definition of childhood sweethearts. From kindergarten chatter to university cram sessions, we were inseparable, our lives woven together thread by thread. Our friendship blossomed into love so naturally, it felt like breathing. Everyone who saw us would smile and say we were a match made in heaven. I believed it with every fiber of my being. Diana was my destiny. She used to say our love story was already written in the stars, a gift from the universe delivered to me early, so I’d never have to be alone. Her words made my world spin with joy. Without Diana, my life would be a colorless void. I saw our future so clearly: walking down the aisle, hand in hand, growing old and gray together. Reality, however, was a sledgehammer. On graduation day, the very day she promised would be our wedding day, she was marrying another man. I shoved my way through the crowd, my world narrowing to a single point. And there she was. Dressed in a stunning white gown, Diana was breathtakingly beautiful, but she was on the arm of Caleb, clinking glasses with the guests. My heart felt like it was being ripped in two. She was still the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, but the sight of her was a dagger in my soul. When she saw me, her face went ghostly white. A flash of panic and guilt crossed her eyes before Caleb cut in. “Ron, man… I have cancer. I’m dying,” he pleaded, his voice laced with a pathetic helplessness. “Marrying Diana was my dad’s only wish. She’s just helping me.” He made it sound like he was the victim, and I was the villain for even being there. Diana’s gaze turned cold, her voice firm and final. “This isn’t the time to argue. I’ll give you an explanation when this is over.” “Don’t bother.” A gaping hole tore open in my chest, the pain so immense I could barely breathe. I ripped the simple silver ring she’d given me—our promise ring—from my finger and hurled it out a nearby window. It was once a symbol of our forever; now, it was just a painful memory. I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the tremors in my voice to still. “I wish you a lifetime of happiness. May you have beautiful children.” Then, I turned my back and walked away. “Ron!” Diana called my name, starting to follow, but her steps faltered as Caleb erupted into a fit of violent coughing. A bitter, silent laugh escaped me. I didn’t look back. I just kept walking. She glanced frantically between Caleb and my retreating back. In the end, she chose to stay by his side. I walked out into the blinding sunlight, hot tears blurring the world into a kaleidoscope of pain. 3 As I was about to leave, Diana’s friends swarmed me, their words a useless, buzzing drone. “Ron, she has her reasons, don’t be mad at her.” “Ron, there’s nothing going on between her and Caleb, you have to believe…” “Yeah, Ron, just wait, let her explain.” I held up a hand, cutting them off. My gaze swept over their familiar, treacherous faces. A cold, hard laugh bubbled up inside me. They all knew. They had all been in on it, helping Diana lie to me for who knows how long. How pathetic. I’d known these people for years, yet when it mattered most, they chose her side, conspired to keep me in the dark. If I hadn’t shown up today, were they just going to let me keep playing the fool? Let me become the other man in my own relationship without even knowing it? “Don’t call me that ever again,” I said, my voice flat and empty. “We’re not that close. If we see each other again, let’s just pretend we’re strangers.” I slipped into a taxi. As I opened my bag, my eyes fell on the crisp envelope inside. An acceptance letter to a top international university. I was going to tell her today. Now, there was no point. 4 Looking back, the signs were all there. In the weeks leading up to graduation, Diana started coming home late, sometimes not at all. Our small apartment often felt empty, haunted by her absence. I rarely saw her on campus. Whenever I called, it was always noisy in the background. Her excuse was always the same: “Work is swamped. I’m just so busy.” She promised she’d make it up to me once this busy period was over. Now I know. She wasn’t busy with work. She was busy planning a wedding. That afternoon, I made an appointment to finalize my travel documents. By a cruel twist of fate, I ran into Maya, one of the few friends of Diana’s I hadn’t seen at the wedding. She looked at me, her expression a mix of pity and frustration. “Does Diana know you’re leaving?” I just shook my head. “Did you know she was getting married today?” Maya sighed, a heavy, weary sound. “I tried to talk her out of it. I told her you wouldn’t stand for this. But you know Diana, she’s too soft-hearted. That guy, Caleb, he’s been chasing her for years. She always shut him down, firmly. But then he showed up a while ago, told her he was sick, that he didn’t have long. His ‘dying wish’ was to marry her. She wrestled with it for ages, but in the end, her pity won.” Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. A wedding isn’t a game! You don’t just do it for someone. Did she even think about me? What did she think I was? A wedding is supposed to be one of the most sacred moments in a person’s life, and she’d used it to grant some other guy’s dying wish. She had betrayed not just me, but everything we had promised each other. Whatever her reasons, she gave something that was meant only for me to someone else. And that was a betrayal I couldn’t forgive. 5 The sharp edges of my heartbreak slowly dulled into a numb ache, as if even my sorrow had grown exhausted. “Are you sure about this?” Maya’s voice was soft beside me. “No second thoughts?” I nodded, my voice hard as stone. “No second thoughts. Let’s get this done.” After all the paperwork was finished, I closed my eyes, a wave of weariness washing over me. The world faded, my body felt weightless, and my mind drifted back to a hazy afternoon in my childhood. I remember coming home from kindergarten. The house was quiet, too quiet. Mom was sitting alone in the living room, one hand resting on her still-flat stomach, tears silently tracing paths down her cheeks. I ran to her, and she pulled me into a hug that felt both gentle and sad. “Ron,” she whispered, “let’s not have this baby brother or sister, okay?” I was confused. Just a few days earlier, she had told me with a radiant smile that I was going to be a big brother. This sudden change was a mystery to my young mind, but I trusted my mom, even when I didn’t understand. Then one day, she was gone. The next time I saw her, Dad was with her, looking defeated and exhausted. Mom tossed a phone at him, her eyes colder than I’d ever seen. “What are you doing back here? Weren’t you busy picking out a ring for your new girlfriend?” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the warm memories of our family. “I’m not the type to make a scene. I’ve already had the divorce papers drawn up. We can end this right now. I’m taking Ron. After all, your mother never truly accepted him anyway.” Dad was crying, begging, but Mom had already lifted me onto our suitcase and was walking out the door. She leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Deceit, Ron, once it starts, it never stops. A crack can’t be mended to look new. I hope you find happiness, a person who loves you with their whole heart. But more importantly, I want you to be the one who knows best how to love yourself.” 6 Life as a single mom wasn’t easy, but she never let me feel the weight of it. Whenever she was tired or stressed, she would just stroke my cheek and say, “As long as I have you, I have all the strength I need.” Not having a dad around made me different. Some kids at school started whispering that I was the “son of a mistress,” and the whispers turned into taunts. Kids can be cruel; they repeated the poison they heard from adults and gave me nasty nicknames. I never fought back in front of the teachers, but I remembered every face. When I found one of them alone, I’d make sure they learned I wasn’t an easy target. But none of that mattered after I met Diana. I was hiding in a corner after a fight, dabbing at a cut on my lip, when she found me. She held out a bottle of antiseptic and some cotton swabs, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. “You’re so skinny. How do you hit so hard?” She cleaned my wounds so gently, I forgot all about the sting. Her smile was… it was everything. From that day on, whenever I got hurt, she was there to patch me up. We became inseparable. Through elementary and middle school, we were a unit. Mom started her own business and our lives got better. She saw the unspoken thing growing between me and Diana but never said a word. Our families grew close, too, all of us quietly watching our bond deepen, waiting for it to ripen into what it was always meant to be. 7 The summer after we graduated high school, Diana presented me with a simple silver ring. Her eyes, shining with a love so deep it stole my breath, met mine. “The day we graduate from university,” she promised, her voice a soft whisper, “we get married. Ron, I can’t wait to be your wife.” In that moment, cherry blossoms drifted around us like pink snow, a beautiful, fleeting illusion I could never recapture. I woke up with a start, realizing I’d fallen asleep in the waiting area. My cheeks were damp with tears. Maya was looking at me with concern, suggesting we go get a big meal. I shook my head. Right now, all I wanted was to go home to my mom. On the way, my luck ran out. I ran into the last two people I ever wanted to see. Diana was hovering over Caleb, fussing over him as if he were made of delicate glass. Our eyes met, and the air crackled with awkward tension. “What a coincidence, seeing you here,” Diana said, forcing a tight smile. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Looks like I’m interrupting something. My mistake, I’ll be on my way.” I turned to leave, but her hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, a grip both gentle and firm. “Don’t misunderstand,” she said, her voice pleading. “I’m just here with Caleb for a check-up. He’s not feeling well.” I nodded slowly, carefully pulling my hand from her grasp. My voice was calm, distant. “Diana, you’re a married woman now. You should be careful about appearances. Let’s just delete each other’s contacts. It’s only fair to your husband.” I then turned to Caleb, my eyes narrowing slightly. “Right, Caleb? In a marriage, making your partner feel secure is the most important thing.” Caleb just flushed with embarrassment, clutching his chest and starting to cough again. But this time, Diana didn’t rush to his side. I gave them a small, cold smile and walked away. 8 Back at the apartment, I moved with a cold efficiency. I packed every single thing of Diana’s into boxes and left them by the door. Every gift she’d ever given me went into the trash. A headache throbbed behind my eyes as my phone buzzed relentlessly. I ignored it, blocking and deleting Diana from every app, every contact list, until it was as if she’d never existed in my digital world. It was seven in the evening when I got back to my mom’s house. She took one look at my pale face, said nothing, and just pulled me into a tight hug. She told me to get some rest. I spent the next three days in a fog, drifting in and out of a heavy, dreamless sleep. Dark thoughts flickered at the edges of my mind, but the clean, familiar scent of the linens on my bed, my mom’s scent, kept them at bay. On the fourth day, I finally had the strength to get out of bed. On the fifth day, Mom’s face lit up when she saw me. She brought me a bowl of warm chicken soup. I took a sip of water and looked at her. “Mom, Diana and I broke up.” Her smile froze. Her face was a canvas of confusion, but she kept her voice even, not wanting to pressure me. “She got married.” One sentence was all it took. Understanding, then a fiery anger, flashed in her eyes. She went into her room and returned with a small, velvet box. “Good,” she said, her voice firm. “You deserve better. But since it’s over, we should return what belongs to her family.” That’s when I learned the full story. Diana’s mother had adored me. She and my mom had already been talking, planning for us to get married right after graduation. Diana’s mom had even given my mom a family heirloom, a beautiful silver locket, as a clear sign that she saw me as her future son-in-law. But life had other plans. The sun was high in the sky when we arrived at Diana’s house. Her mom greeted me with a smile as bright as a flower, though her son, Leo, just shot me a dirty look and stalked off. Diana’s mom led me into the living room, where Diana and Caleb were already sitting. She was still blissfully unaware, grabbing both our hands. “What’s this, did you two plan to come back together? Now that you’ve graduated, have you thought about the next step? Like, maybe, a wedding?” She tried to place Diana’s hand in mine, but I pulled away instantly. A flicker of hurt crossed Diana’s face, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I looked at my mom, who knew exactly what I was thinking. Diana’s mother had always been so kind to me; I couldn’t bear to be the one to tell her. My mom spoke up for me. Diana shot to her feet, rushing toward me, her voice a desperate whisper. “Ron, it’s not what you think. Just give me some time, I’ll explain everything.”

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I’m a born actress. I only ever wanted the big bucks and the fancy life—not an ounce of genuine affection. I went from being a nameless orphan to the daughter of a billionaire. But before my butt could even warm the seat, the Grant family supposedly went bust. I was packing my bags, ready to bail, when I overheard the doctor tell my ‘dad,’ “Aren’t you afraid of breaking the kid’s heart…” Without a second thought, I spun around and rushed into the room, hugging my ‘mom.’ “Mom, I don’t care if we’re poor. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you both.” Poor for a while versus poor forever—I, Clara Reed, know how to run the numbers. I glanced at the expensive watch under Dad’s cheap shirt sleeve—a watch that could buy half the block—and offered a silent, shallow smile. 1 I dragged my leaden legs back to the dumpy little rental apartment. Clutching the hundred dollars in sweat-soaked cash from my extra work, I raced to the pharmacy for Dad’s imported meds. Then, I detoured to that ridiculously upscale French patisserie and bought Mom’s favorite raspberry tart. That tiny thing cost me hours of background acting pay. I pushed the door open. Dad was slumped on the sofa, his face ashen, the collar of his cheap cotton tee stretched out. Mom sat beside him, her eyes vacant. I handed over the medicine and the fancy little box, forcing my most demure smile. “Dad, your meds. Mom, your favorite.” “Clara, you…” Mom looked at my sweaty, haggard appearance, then at the nasty scratch on my arm. Her eyes instantly welled up. “It’s nothing, Mom.” I waved it off, making my voice sound deliberately tired and hoarse. “I rushed back. Didn’t want you guys to worry.” I quickly poured water for Dad to take his pill. In the process, the wound on my arm accidentally scraped the corner of the table, making me hiss in pain. “Oh, honey! You’re hurt that badly, and you didn’t say anything!” Mom jumped up in a panic. Dad struggled to sit up. “Quick, take care of it!” I pulled away. “Honestly, it’s fine. Just a scratch. If you two are okay, I’m relieved.” Out of the corner of my eye, I perfectly caught the sight of that expensive watch—a watch that could buy half the neighborhood—peeking out from beneath Dad’s threadbare sleeve. I lowered my gaze, hiding the brief, fleeting smile on my lips. Broke? Yep. This is a massive setup. 2 I, Clara Reed, am a born actress. I only seek wealth and glory, not a single shred of true feeling. When I was five, the first old woman who found me wanted me to be a child bride for her simple-minded grandson in exchange for scraps of spoiled food. At her worst, she even grabbed a stick, threatening to break my hand and throw me out to beg. I used my brilliant acting to lull her into a false sense of security, called the police, and identified her as a trafficker. Watching her get handcuffed, I felt nothing. Then, I was sent to the orphanage. Director Chen acted like a saint but was a monster behind closed doors. When the whip came down, I didn’t cry or fight. Instead, I became her most ‘loyal’ little shadow. I knew that in a place like that, you had to cling to the most powerful person just to breathe. When the big-shot officials came to inspect, the rebellious kids who usually got the worst beatings were locked in a pitch-black storage room. I followed the Director everywhere, pouring tea and water, smiling sweetly and timidly. While pouring, I ‘accidentally’ hiked up my washed-out, old sleeve, revealing the crisscrossing scars of old lashings. A sharp-eyed official asked what happened. I immediately yanked my sleeve down, shaking my head like a bobblehead, my voice trembling just right. “N-Nothing. I fell. Mother Director… Mother Director is so good to us!” The officials exchanged glances, their eyes filled with pity: This child is clearly too terrified to speak. I subtly let my eyes drift, guiding them to the tightly locked storage room… The day the police took Director Chen away, the entire orphanage felt like Christmas. A bully named Terry apologized to me, red-faced, saying he’d misunderstood me. I rubbed my arm where he used to shove me and smiled radiantly. “Apologize for what? I’m not a good person, you know.” They burst into laughter, swarming me. “Clara is joking again!” See? My acting is so good that when I tell the truth, no one believes me. I somehow became the ‘light’ in their hearts. Later, the news coverage of the ‘uncovering’ of the abuse featured my wide-eyed, terrified, bare face. A scout noticed me, and I stepped into show business. The money wasn’t great, but at least I wasn’t worried about my next meal. That is, until the billionaire Grant family tracked me down and brought me home. The father-daughter bonding act had barely started when Dad burst into tears and announced bankruptcy, immediately ‘fainting.’ Heh. My acting skills must be hereditary. 3 In the luxurious walk-in closet, I deftly slipped the last diamond necklace into my bag. I never got to enjoy this wealth. Why should I stick around to suffer with them? My attendance is excused. I crept past the study. Through the crack in the door, Dad’s voice sounded weak, yet laced with an unidentifiable undertone. His doctor friend, who was always on call, was there too. The doctor sighed. “Aren’t you afraid of breaking the kid’s heart…” The rest of the conversation was fragmented, but that sentence hit me hard. My steps suddenly froze. My mind instantly replayed Dad’s overly dramatic hand-to-the-chest gesture before he ‘fainted.’ In a flash, one thought became crystal clear—A test! This was their test for me! Authentic human emotion might fail a test like this, but my acting? My acting is flawless. Grant Family Method Acting. Show time! I decisively kicked the packed bag into a corner and spun toward the master bedroom. Mom was staring out the window, her back looking desolate. “Mom!” I rushed over, my voice hoarse, as if from crying, and hugged her tightly. “I’m not leaving! I’m not going anywhere. No matter how bad things get, I’ll stay with you. I don’t care if we’re poor, I’ll take care of you and Dad!” The tears came on command, scalding her silk nightgown. I looked up, my eyes filled with reckless determination. Mom’s body stiffened, then began to tremble violently. She hugged me back, sobbing uncontrollably, a flash of reluctance in her eyes. “Clara… my Clara…” I felt the warmth of her embrace, and with my face buried in her shoulder, my lips curled up infinitesimally—a movement unseen by anyone. Poor for a while versus poor forever. I, Clara Reed, knew exactly which was the better deal. 4 Back in the rental apartment, Mom was still choked up, moved by the fact that I’d bought her the dessert despite being broke. I casually walked to the large window and pulled back a corner of the heavy curtain. Downstairs, a few burly men in black T-shirts had gathered. But the man leading them stood out. Lean but clearly muscled, he wore a nice, dark, casual suit. His eyes were calm like a deep pool, lacking any menace, yet commanding a silent control. That air of calculated certainty only made the atmosphere more tense. A layered test, huh? They even hired ‘debt collectors’? So realistic! “Mom,” I whispered, “Someone seems to be outside… it doesn’t sound good. Don’t make a sound.” Mom’s face went white. She nodded frantically. The knocking soon turned into brutal pounding. “BANG! BANG! BANG!” The rental apartment door groaned under the assault. “Who is it?!” Mom finally cried out, trying to stop it. Too late! The moment the door splintered open, I ‘just happened’ to be standing right behind it, ‘frantically’ trying to brace it with my body! A massive force slammed the door! “CRASH!” A dull, sickening thud. The door hit me square on. A sharp, explosive pain shot through my nose! A warm liquid instantly gushed out. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. The door was completely broken open. A tall, aloof man strode in first. He didn’t spare a glance for me, who was clutching my nose with blood seeping through my fingers. His gaze, sharp as a knife, swept past my terrified mother. His voice was cold enough to form ice. “Mom, are you okay?!” “Ethan!” Mom rushed forward, shielding me. The pain in my nose made my vision swim, and tears streamed out—a purely physical reaction. Worth it. This self-inflicted misery act is completely worth it.

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