The Mayor’s son was held captive in an abandoned slaughterhouse by a deranged killer.
I had my sniper rifle set up, aiming squarely at the madman.
But just as my finger hovered over the trigger, my husband, Commander David Thorne, suddenly cut the comms.
“Hold your fire! Wait for Dr. Hayes to arrive for psychological negotiations!”
In my past life, it happened just like this.
The criminal psychology expert rushed in and spouted forty minutes of utterly useless psycho-babble at the killer.
It only enraged the madman, who promptly severed one of the hostage’s ears.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I shot the killer dead, and Dr. Hayes threw up and passed out on the spot.
From then on, she was publicly shamed as an “incompetent expert,” her reputation in tatters, her spirit crushed.
And my husband? He had me transferred to an organ trafficking unit as an undercover agent.
On the night of the operation, he deliberately called my secure line.
“Aren’t you always so capable, Valerie? Well, let’s see how you like being vivisected!”
In my final moments, I saw him appear, arm wrapped around Dr. Hayes, his face a mask of fake grief.
Reborn back to this exact moment, the killer’s blade was still pressed against the hostage’s throat.
I slowly lowered my sniper rifle, a cold smirk playing on my lips.
This time, let’s see how you play this out.
Dr. Hayes’ voice, soft and soothing, came through our radios, reaching every ear.
It was gentle, like she was trying to calm a petulant child, not a mentally unstable kidnapper holding a blade to a man’s throat.
“I understand you’re in pain right now… I understand your anger. We’ve heard your demands…”
“But harming others won’t truly solve your problems. We can find a better way, together…”
“Damn it!”
Through my earpiece, Captain Miller, positioned on the flank, couldn’t help but snarl, his voice laced with fuming rage.
“What the hell is she blabbering about? Can’t she see that bastard’s knife is practically slicing him already?!”
“Command, target’s emotional state is clearly deteriorating! Negotiations ineffective! Requesting authorization to fire!”
Another urgent voice cut in; it was Agent Davies, our spotter.
A second of silence hung in the channel, then my husband, Commander David Thorne – our current lead – spoke, his voice unnervingly calm.
“Maintain patience. Dr. Hayes is establishing trust! No one moves without my direct order!”
“Trust, my ass! If we wait any longer, the hostage will be ice-cold!”
The team member kept his voice low, but the fury was unmistakable.
Dr. Hayes’ voice resumed, still unhurried and deliberate.
“Your current actions… perhaps they are a re-enactment of childhood trauma you experienced? We can talk about it…”
“Son of a bitch!”
Someone in the channel couldn’t hold back a curse.
The kidnapper seemed provoked by her words, roaring, his voice hoarse.
“Shut up! Who the hell are you to lecture me? Keep blabbing and I’ll kill him right now!”
The killer’s blade pressed another fraction of an inch into the Mayor’s son’s trembling throat.
A thin line of blood snaked down.
The young man let out a suppressed whimper, his pupils dilated with extreme terror.
Mayor Thompson’s hoarse roar practically tore through the comms.
Chaos erupted around him, filled with shouts of restraint.
“David Thorne! If my son loses even a single hair, you can kiss that uniform goodbye! Shoot! Save him!”
After a brief, tense silence, David’s voice finally returned.
“Valerie, report target’s real-time status.”
Everyone’s earpiece went quiet for a moment.
Usually, in times like these, I’d give the most calm and professional assessment.
It would be the basis for his decision, taking the main responsibility off his shoulders.
But now…
Through my high-powered scope, I watched the trembling young man.
And I watched the madman, visibly growing more agitated with every word Dr. Hayes spoke.
I replied, my voice steady, devoid of any ripple of emotion.
“My expertise is marksmanship. I don’t analyze madmen.”
“That’s a call you’ll have to make yourself, Commander.”
The channel went dead silent.
I could picture David’s expression right now.
That usual calm mask suddenly frozen, perhaps a flicker of disbelief in his eyes.
“Valerie! Watch your tone! This is an active mission!”
His voice was laced with a reprimand, an attempt to regain control of the situation.
I responded immediately, my tone respectful, but my words hard as iron.
“Yes, Commander. My finger will not touch the trigger until you give the order.”
“After all, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for disrupting Dr. Hayes’ crucial trust-building.”
Last life, my shot was clean, a headshot.
The hostage was saved, Mayor Thompson was eternally grateful, and I became a hero.
That life-saving act brought me a promotion and commendations, but it also became the catalyst that pushed me into hell.
David couldn’t tolerate a wife who wasn’t perfectly controlled, who might even surpass him.
Especially since I’d ruined the reputation of his beloved Dr. Hayes, driving her to a breakdown.
So, he threw me into the dirtiest, most dangerous organ trafficking ring as an undercover agent.
And then, at the critical moment of the bust, he deliberately made sure I was exposed.
I still remember that last look he gave me – smug and insidious.
A scream dragged me back to reality.
It was Dr. Hayes. Her face was a mask of panic.
“You… don’t get agitated! I’m just trying to help you! You’re making it very hard to communicate…”
“Help me?”
The kidnapper let out a grating, cackling laugh, then slashed viciously!
“Aaah!”
A shrill, distorted scream echoed through the air.
The next second, a blood-soaked finger, severed and grotesque, rolled onto the ground.
Mayor Thompson’s son’s left pinky finger had been cut off. He rolled his eyes, on the verge of passing out.
“Lunatic, you psycho! How could you do that?!”
Dr. Hayes’ scream rang out simultaneously, tearful and filled with incredulous condemnation.
She’d completely lost her professional composure.
“I was trying to help you! Why didn’t you listen?”
Her shrieking was undoubtedly pouring fuel on the fire.
The kidnapper’s facial muscles twisted frantically, as if her accusation had completely enraged him. The blood-stained blade lifted again.
This time, it was aimed at the hostage’s eyes.
“Help me? You send some bitch here to piss me off, are you messing with me?! I’ll gouge out his eyes right now, I swear to God!”
Everyone’s blood seemed to freeze in that instant.
However, the expected decisive order from Commander David Thorne for an assault or a shot never came.
“Cassandra, fall back! Watch your safety!”
His priority was that useless woman.
Mayor Thompson’s furious roar almost shattered my eardrums.
“David Thorne! My son’s hand! Do you see it?! Shoot! Kill that madman now! Or I’ll have your badge and your hide!”
David’s breathing grew heavy in my earpiece.
“Cassandra, immediately retreat to a safe distance!”
He prioritized her safety again, then, as if forced, gritted his teeth and squeezed out the command.
“Sniper team, prepare to…”
“David!”
Dr. Hayes’ tearful voice was full of grievance and resentment, and a certainty that bordered on delusional.
“They just don’t understand, this is typical trauma response!”
“Violence only escalates tragedy! What we need is empathy, to build a bridge of trust!”
“Enraging him now will only make him more extreme!”
She seemed to have completely forgotten who had just enraged him, leading to the finger being severed.
“They’re all so mean to me… Even you don’t trust my professional judgment anymore?”
She even had the nerve to whine to David.
Just then, Agent Davies’ urgent voice cut in.
“Commander Thorne…”
“Recon just reported that the kidnapper’s feet and the surrounding area… might be rigged with explosives!”
“Bombs?!”
A collective gasp echoed through the channel, and David’s breath hitched.
Agent Davies’ voice was urgent and clear.
“Wires extend from his feet, covering an unknown area! Direct assault carries extreme risk!”
The situation instantly escalated.
It had just been a hostage crisis; now it was a powder keg that could blow everyone to pieces.
“Damn it…”
A team member cursed under his breath, his voice filled with a sense of helplessness.
Dr. Hayes seemed terrified by the news, her sobbing abruptly cut short.
Only faint, startled sniffles remained.
But the next second, her voice suddenly regained that irritatingly professional tone.
“See… see? I told you not to provoke him!”
“He lacks security, he’s extremely afraid, that’s why he’s resorting to these extreme measures for protection!”
“We must first understand his inner world, establish trust and security…”
“Trust your mother!”
A suppressed, furious roar suddenly erupted in the channel.
It was Captain Miller, positioned closest to the front.
“I wanted to put a bullet in that bastard’s head earlier! And now? We’re all in a goddamn bomb crater because of this ‘psychology expert’!”
“Shut up!”
David barked, but his voice clearly carried a faint, almost imperceptible hint of panic.
He took a deep breath.
“Cassandra, continue trying to communicate, keep him calm!”
“Bomb disposal team! Assess the situation! Assault team, fall back, find cover!”
His orders were chaotic, both asking Dr. Hayes to engage and ordering his team to retreat.
Clearly, this sudden development had thrown him off balance.
Dr. Hayes, receiving her instructions, seemed infused with a supreme mission, and her voice rose a few more decibels.
“You don’t really want this, do you? We can help you…”
“Just release the hostage…”
The kidnapper’s facial muscles twitched, his eyes wildly scanning his surroundings.
His knife pressed harder against the hostage’s throat, and beads of blood began to seep out.
The kidnapper’s crazed laughter abruptly stopped, replaced by the furious roar of someone thoroughly humiliated.
“Understand me? Help me? You’re full of shit!”
He spat, his emotions running wild.
“You all act so righteous! Is there anything else in your brains besides trying to kill me?”
“You send some bitch to lecture me! Do you really think I’m an idiot?”
Dr. Hayes’ face paled from his yelling, and she instinctively took half a step back.
But then, as if to prove something, she forced herself forward again, her voice sharp.
“How can you talk like that! I’m trying to save you! Your antisocial personality…”
“Go to hell with your antisocial personality!”
The kidnapper suddenly kicked a rusted metal架 near him, creating a deafening clang.
“Get lost! Or I’ll slit his throat right now!”
He pressed down with his wrist, and the hostage let out a choked whimper.
“Aaah!”
Dr. Hayes shrieked, terrified by the direct death threat, completely losing her composure.
She suddenly turned towards the comms, her voice high-pitched and sharp, completely devoid of any supposed professionalism.
“David! Did you hear that?! He cursed at me! He actually cursed at me like that! I was trying to help him!”
“He’s utterly hopeless, a barbaric and vulgar psycho!”
“You have to arrest him! Show him who’s boss!”
The channel went utterly silent.
Only her aggrieved, angry sobs and the kidnapper’s heavy breathing intertwined.
David’s voice immediately rang out, filled with blatant favoritism and urgency.
“Cassandra, evacuate immediately! Assault Team One, cover Dr. Hayes’ retreat!”
His orders were clear and decisive, a stark contrast to his hesitation during the hostage crisis.
Several assault team members quickly moved into position, forming a shield.
They escorted Dr. Hayes rapidly back behind cover.
The kidnapper watched the scene, letting out a series of mocking cackles.
“Hahahaha… The little princess is upset, her bodyguards are rushing to her aid!”
“Damn it! I despise you self-righteous phonies the most!”
His gaze returned to the almost-paralyzed hostage, the madness in his eyes growing even more intense.
“Show’s over, little lord. Looks like your life isn’t as important as a pretty expert’s whine.”
He licked his dry lips, the blood-stained blade slowly moving down from the Mayor’s son’s neck towards his chest.
Mayor Thompson’s roar in the comms channel had turned into a primal scream.
David Thorne’s voice was taut as a wire, desperately trying to suppress the chaos.
“Bomb Disposal Team! Report! How much longer??”
“Complex wiring, too wide a coverage area. At least ten minutes to locate the core detonator!”
“Ten minutes!”
David’s voice almost broke.
Dr. Hayes was practically dragged back behind the temporary command cover by the assault team members.
Her hair was disheveled, tear tracks still on her face, her eyes filled with humiliation and resentment.
“He dared… he dared to do that to me!”
Her voice trembled as she grabbed David’s arm.
“David! I can’t just let this go! He has to pay!”
David’s brow furrowed. He watched the bomb disposal team’s progress while trying to calm her.
“Cassandra, calm down first. It’s very dangerous here…”
“No!”
Dr. Hayes suddenly yanked her arm away, a flicker of madness in her eyes.
“I want to take care of him myself!”
She suddenly pointed at me, where I lay ambushed not far away.
“Valerie! Give me your sniper rifle!”
Every team member’s breath hitched in the channel.
David Thorne also froze.
“Cassandra, stop it, this isn’t a joke!”
“I’m not joking!”
Dr. Hayes straightened her back, trying to appear professional and calm, but she couldn’t hide the tremor and excitement in her voice.
“Criminal psychology also includes behavioral prediction!”
“I’ve studied his micro-expressions and body language. I know what his next move will be! I’m confident I can hit him!”
She looked at David, her tone wheedling.
“David, tell her to assist me!”
“Isn’t Valerie the best sniper? Have her help me calculate wind speed and distance.”
“Working together, we can hit him before he harms the hostage!”
“Nonsense!”
Captain Miller couldn’t help but growl into the comms.
David, however, was silent.
He looked at Dr. Hayes’ stubborn, tear-stained face, his eyes filled with a blind indulgence and trust.
He was actually considering it.
In his mind, perhaps this was the only chance to salvage Dr. Hayes’ dignity and confidence?
Or perhaps he simply couldn’t refuse any of her requests?
“Valerie.”
David’s voice came through the channel, carrying an undeniable command.
“You will assist Dr. Hayes in the shot. She will judge the timing, and you will provide data support.”
“Ensure a one-shot kill, and rescue the hostage.”
The sheer absurdity almost made me laugh out loud.
Me, the police department’s three-time consecutive sniping champion, to assist a psychologist who probably couldn’t even hold a rifle steady?
Last life, he led me to a gruesome death. This life, he still wanted to drag everyone down with him to salvage Dr. Hayes’ ego.
“Commander, I refuse.”
My voice was cold as ice.
David’s voice suddenly rose, laced with anger.
“Valerie! That’s an order!”
My words were steady, each one clear.
“Dr. Hayes does not possess the qualifications of a sniper. Her emotional state is highly unstable. Allowing her to lead the shot is tantamount to murder.”
“Valerie! You!”
David was furious.
Dr. Hayes’ sharp voice cut in, tearful and accusatory.
“David! Look at her! She’s just jealous of me!”
“She’s afraid that if I succeed, it’ll make her look incompetent! She doesn’t even want to save Mayor Thompson’s son!”
“I don’t have time to listen to your arguments.”
I cut her off coldly, my scope never leaving the target.
“Commander, if you insist on Dr. Hayes taking the shot, please explain the situation to all personnel involved and to Mayor Thompson himself.”
“State that Dr. Hayes is solely responsible for this shot, and all consequences will be jointly borne by you and her.”
My words were like a bucket of ice water, instantly extinguishing David’s impulse.
Jointly bear the consequences.
Would he dare? He wouldn’t.
He knew better than anyone that Dr. Hayes couldn’t do it.
He just wanted her to try. If she succeeded, it would be his credit. If she failed… he’d probably still pin it on me.
Sure enough, David’s end of the channel fell into a terrifying silence.
Dr. Hayes continued to whine relentlessly.
“David! You promised me! Let her help me! I can do it…”
“Enough!”
David finally roared, his voice filled with irritation and internal struggle.
Just then, Agent Davies’ urgent voice sounded again.
“Commander Thorne! The kidnapper has the detonator out! He’s counting down! Ten! Nine! Eight!”
The bomb disposal team’s startled cry came simultaneously.
“No! Not enough time!”
“Seven! Six! Five!…”
Everyone’s heart was in their throat.
“Four! Three!…”
In that split second.
“Bang!”
🌟 Continue the story here
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My Obsession, His Apathy
I stood outside Julian Blackwood’s bedroom door, my fingertips digging into my palms.
Suppressed moans and the crisp shatter of glass filtered from inside.
Pushing open the door, I saw Julian half-reclining on the bed in the dim light.
His tie was loose, his shirt unbuttoned to his chest, revealing reddened skin.
Sweat plastered his fringe to his forehead, his breathing was heavy, and a thick, primal desire swirled in his eyes.
But the moment he looked up and saw me, those eyes instantly turned cold.
“Get out.”
His voice was hoarse, yet it carried an undeniable authority.
I didn’t move.
My voice was barely a whisper:
“Uncle Julian, you’ve been drugged. I can help you…”
Before I could finish, Julian seized my wrist, his grip so fierce it felt like my bones would shatter.
The desire in his eyes had been replaced by fury, his voice as cold as ice:
“Do you have any idea what you’re saying?”
I looked up at him, my eyes red-rimmed:
“I do.”
“I failed to raise you properly all these years.” He released me, his tone laced with bone-deep disappointment. “You’ve gone astray, developed these disgusting fantasies.”
Disgusting.
The word was a knife, plunging savagely into my heart.
My face went pale, as if I’d been slapped hard, my cheeks burning, yet I stubbornly refused to leave.
But the next second, Julian, right in front of me, picked up a photo of Scarlett Vance.
She was his first love, a stunning, graceful woman who was a globally renowned pop sensation.
Julian’s gaze lingered on the photo, the coldness in his eyes gradually replaced by another emotion.
His thumb gently stroked Scarlett’s face, his breathing growing heavier.
I froze, watching as his other hand unbuckled his belt.
The movement was practiced and controlled, as if he’d done it countless times.
My heart clenched painfully.
He’d rather find solace with a photo of Scarlett than touch me.
Julian closed his eyes, then suddenly picked up his phone and dialed.
“Scarlett, come over.”
His voice was deep and tender, a tone I’d never heard him use before.
He hung up, and when he looked at me again, the warmth on his face vanished instantly:
“Mr. Henderson, take Miss Evans to The Vault.”
I gasped, my pupils constricting:
“Uncle Julian… no!”
I hated the dark, I hated enclosed spaces, especially that room.
My parents’ urns were kept there.
But Julian was unmoved. Mr. Henderson silently gripped my wrist, dragging me towards the door at the end of the hallway.
I struggled, looking back, but only saw Julian’s cold, unyielding back.
“Bang!”
The moment the door slammed shut, darkness swallowed everything. I curled up in the corner, trembling uncontrollably. My parents’ urns sat in the center, chilling me to the bone.
Just beyond the wall, in the bedroom, violent sounds erupted.
2.
The creaking of the bed, a woman’s soft moans, a man’s low gasps.
Scarlett had arrived.
I clamped my hands over my ears, but the sounds seeped in everywhere.
I bit down hard on my lip, tears streaming silently down my face.
I remembered ten years ago, when my parents died in a car crash.
Everyone had pointed fingers, calling me a jinx, but Julian had taken me in, spoiling me into the city’s most celebrated little princess.
Julian had been an orphan brought back by Old Master Blackwood on a whim, enduring endless cold shoulders in the Blackwood family.
They were polite on the surface but called him an illegitimate child behind his back; even the servants dared to boss him around.
As an adult, he’d left the Blackwood family without hesitation.
He started Blackwood Enterprises from scratch, carving his own empire in the business world with the most ruthless tactics.
Those who once looked down on him now needed to book an appointment months in advance just to see him.
No one expected him to adopt me.
When my parents died and all my relatives were busy trying to exploit me, it was he who brought this helpless little girl home.
He bought me the most expensive art supplies, hired the best teachers for my painting.
When I was writhing in pain from my period, he flew back overnight from abroad, personally preparing me soothing tea.
When I received my first love letter, he coldly forced the boy to transfer schools, and from then on, no one dared to approach me.
His control over me bordered on the pathological, yet on some nights, he would wipe away the cream from my lips with his thumb, his gaze dark and unreadable.
I thought it was love. A young girl’s heart was irrevocably caught.
I had been infatuated with him for ten years, confessing my feelings 999 times.
Each time, Julian pushed me away harshly, punishing my foolish infatuation.
Until Scarlett Vance, his first love, a pop sensation, returned to the country.
Julian began to stay out frequently. When he occasionally came home, he always carried the scent of rose perfume.
He stopped caring about my art exhibitions, stopped asking about my life, and even… deliberately let me hear his intimate moments with Scarlett.
The first time, I fainted outright. The second time, I hid outside the door, crying until I couldn’t breathe.
The third time, I stood numbly in the hallway, listening to the sounds from inside, my heart turned to ash.
And now, I was locked in here, listening to the man I loved being intimate with another woman.
I bit my hands until they bled, but it was barely a fraction of the agony in my heart.
Night passed, and dawn broke. The door to The Vault was pushed open, and blinding light streamed in.
I knelt in the corner, my face streaked with tears, my hands clamped over my ears.
Julian carried Scarlett past me. Scarlett’s body was covered in bruises, and she had passed out.
He didn’t spare me a single glance, walking straight to the bathroom to personally clean her.
I swayed to my feet and returned to my room. From a drawer, I pulled out a diagnosis report.
Stage IV stomach cancer, one month at most. I stared at the paper and suddenly smiled.
“Uncle Julian, as you wished.”
“I won’t cling to you anymore. Soon, I’ll leave, disappearing forever.”
3.
My packing was slow. I carefully placed each art supply into the box, my fingertips tracing the paints and brushes, every single one personally chosen by Julian.
Now, they would never be used again. I planned to spend my final days quietly abroad.
In my next life, I never wanted to be tangled with Julian Blackwood again.
I expected to cry, but my eyes were dry and aching; not a single tear would fall.
My phone rang just then. “Uncle Julian” flashed on the screen, my fingers trembled slightly, but I finally pressed the answer button.
“Seven tonight, The Grandview Hotel.”
Julian’s voice came through the receiver, cold and devoid of warmth. “Scarlett and I are having our engagement party. You must be there.”
I remained silent, my nails digging deep into my palms. Blood oozed from between my fingers, but I felt no pain.
“Mia, obey.”
His tone was an unyielding command.
“…Okay.”
I whispered my assent, then hung up. I knew I had to give up completely.
The ballroom of The Grandview Hotel glittered with lights, guests smiling, chatting, and toasting one another.
I stood in a corner, watching Julian, with Scarlett on his arm, walk step by step towards the central platform.
Scarlett wore a vibrant red gown, radiant and beautiful, her smile so bright it seemed to illuminate the entire night. Julian was in a black suit, his expression stern.
Yet, when his eyes met Scarlett’s, they softened, a rare sight.
“They look so perfect together…”
“Scarlett Vance waited for Julian Blackwood for so many years, and she’s finally getting her happy ending.”
“I heard Julian didn’t marry all these years just to wait for her to come back.”
The whispers around me drilled into my ears, every word like a blunt knife, slowly carving away at my heart. Yes, Scarlett’s love was grand and known to all. And mine? My love had to be hidden deep within, even speaking it aloud was a sin.
“Mia, why are you alone over here?”
A syrupy sweet voice sounded, and I looked up to see Scarlett approaching me with a glass of champagne. A victor’s smile played on her lips.
“Congratulations.”
I said softly, my voice so calm it felt unfamiliar even to myself. Scarlett extended the champagne to me:
“Have a drink, to wish Julian and me well.”
I shook my head:
“I’m allergic to alcohol.”
Scarlett’s smile faltered, but she wouldn’t let it go:
“Just one glass, it won’t do anything. If you don’t drink it, you’d be disrespecting your future sister-in-law.”
I pursed my lips, my gaze involuntarily drifting towards Julian not far away. He was surrounded by a group of guests, and he seemed to have noticed the commotion here. But he only cast a cold glance, then looked away.
“Obey.”
His lips formed the word silently. My heart sank heavily. He knew. He knew I was allergic to alcohol, that even a drop would quickly bring out a rash, make my breathing rapid, and could even lead to shock. But right now, he only cared about Scarlett’s mood.
I smiled silently and reached for the glass. But just as my fingers touched the rim, Scarlett suddenly cried out, “Oh dear!” and stumbled backward.
The massive champagne tower crashed down. Glass shattered on the floor, fragments scattering, champagne drenching me. My body was cut by the shards, blood trickling down my calves, while Scarlett merely scraped her finger.
“Scarlett!”
Julian noticed the commotion and rushed to Scarlett without hesitation, catching her in his arms.
“How could you be so careless?”
He murmured, comforting Scarlett with a tenderness I’d never heard from him.
So that’s how Julian acted when he loved someone.
He had always been cold towards me, never even willing to smile.
A cold breeze swept through, the champagne-soaked dress clinging to my body. Many gazes, both overt and covert, were now fixed on me.
Contemptuous, mocking, malicious stares poured over me.
Only Julian’s was missing. He looked only at Scarlett with tender concern.
The wound on my leg burned, but it was barely a fraction of the agony in my heart.
I stood there, mortified, my whole body trembling slightly.
Scarlett looked at Julian with feigned vulnerability,
“Julian, my hand hurts so much…”
Julian looked up, his gaze falling on me, his voice sharp and cold:
“When did I ever teach you such vile tactics?”
His expression was grim, he looked at me like a stranger:
“Don’t think I didn’t see it, you pushed Scarlett just now. Drink this entire champagne tower as an atonement to Scarlett.”
My pupils constricted slightly, my fingertips trembling.
An entire champagne tower, dozens of glasses. If I drank it all, I probably wouldn’t survive.
“Julian Blackwood, are you insane?!”
My best friend, Chloe Adams, rushed over, shielding me.
“She’s allergic to alcohol, it could kill her!”
Julian scoffed:
“I am her guardian; it’s only right for me to discipline her. Did the Adams family not teach you manners?”
Chloe seemed to have her throat clutched, unable to make another sound.
Julian Blackwood was untouchable in North City, his influence absolute. No one dared cross him.
I pushed Chloe away, shaking my head slightly.
I walked to the champagne tower, picked up the first glass, and tilted my head back, downing it in one gulp.
My throat felt like it was on fire, my stomach churning.
But I was expressionless, and picked up the second glass.
One glass, two glasses, three glasses… My skin began to flush red, my breathing became rapid, and my vision blurred.
But I didn’t stop, not until I had emptied the entire champagne tower.
As I finished the last glass, my vision was already blurry, my legs gave out, and I collapsed.
Before completely losing consciousness, I heard Julian Blackwood’s icy voice:
“I’m so disappointed in you, Amelia Evans.”
“It seems The Vault didn’t make you give up that disgusting idea.”
But I no longer had the strength to argue.
Darkness swallowed my consciousness, leaving only a cacophony of voices and a fading heartbeat in my ears.
4.
When I woke, my head throbbed. I struggled to open my eyes, and as my vision gradually cleared, I realized I was lying in a familiar room.
Julian was sitting by my bed, propping his head with one hand, eyes closed, seemingly asleep.
There were obvious dark circles under his eyes, and his shirt was wrinkled, clearly indicating he hadn’t slept all night.
My heart gave a sudden tremor, and a warmth surged through me.
I remembered times past, when I was sick, Julian would sit by my bed just like this, never leaving my side. Memories flooded back.
When I was ten, I had a high fever that wouldn’t break. Julian flew back overnight from abroad, personally feeding me medicine and coaxing me to sleep.
His palm was warm and dry, gently patting my back, his voice deep and tender:
“Mia, be a good girl. You’ll feel better after the medicine.”
When I was fifteen, I broke my leg at school. Julian dropped all his work, picking me up and dropping me off every day, carrying me down long hallways.
His back was broad and strong, and as I lay on it, listening to his heartbeat, I felt incredibly safe.
These memories made my eyes well up.
It was these warm memories that had me trapped, tightening the ropes, suffocating me to the point where I couldn’t imagine a world without him.
A slight vibration interrupted my thoughts.
Julian’s phone lay on the bedside table, its screen lit up, SnapChat messages popping up one after another.
His phone was never locked, and my gaze involuntarily fell on the screen.
It was Scarlett’s messages.
“Julian, when are you coming back? I miss you.”
“I can’t sleep without you.”
“Oh, by the way, did you check on her today? How is she?”
“Don’t punish her, she’s just a little girl being jealous, my hand hurts but it’s really nothing.”
Her tone was self-righteously forgiving, she was unilaterally forgiving me.
But she was the one who knocked over the champagne glasses.
Julian had replied to every single one of her messages.
Julian, who was always so busy in front of me, too busy to ever have time, could reply to Scarlett’s every message.
My fingers curled slightly, my chest felt like something had sharply stabbed it.
I continued to scroll down, and the last message made my blood run cold.
Julian had written:
“Today she dared to push you; who knows what trouble she’ll cause later. I can’t afford to be embarrassed by her.”
“I’ve already decided to send her to The Horizon Academy for a few days.”
Scarlett asked again:
“Are you sure you want to?”
This academy, disguised as a “reform school for troubled youth,” was actually a notorious facility where the elite sent their inconvenient children.
Once admitted, all contact with the outside world was cut off until they were “reformed.”
“If I can’t control her twisted thoughts, it’s better to let professionals handle it.”
Julian’s reply was brief and cold:
“I only took on this burden for the shares anyway. Just like keeping a pet cat or dog.”
Scarlett offered a few half-hearted words of persuasion, and seeing that Julian was serious about sending me to the academy, she ended the conversation, satisfied.
My breathing stopped. I felt as if I’d plunged into an ice cave.
All the warm illusions of these years shattered in that instant, like a glass tower crashing down.
They pierced me, leaving me bleeding and heartbroken.
So that was it.
All his kindness over the years was merely a calculation for my parents’ inheritance.
He watched me grow up, only to suddenly withdraw all his tenderness. Hot and cold, always condescending.
All of it because, in his eyes, I was merely a dispensable pet.
5.
Tears streamed silently, my stomach churned, as if a fire was burning inside.
I dug my nails into my palms, blood oozing from between my fingers, but I felt no pain.
“Seen enough?”
A cold voice suddenly cut through the air. Julian had woken up at some point and was staring at me with cold eyes.
There was no hint of panic or guilt in his gaze, only disgust and indifference. He reached out and retrieved his phone, his movements swift and decisive.
My lips trembled, I wanted to say something, but no sound came out.
Julian stood up, looking down at me, his voice devoid of warmth:
“I’ve done more than enough for you. Your jealousy towards Scarlett is sickening.”
I finally found my voice, my throat raw as I yelled:
“I didn’t set Scarlett up! I never did!”
Julian scoffed, saying nothing, but his eyes were filled with cold mockery. He didn’t believe me. He never believed me.
Julian turned and left, the door slamming shut, making my eardrums ache.
I was alone in the room again, tears flowing like a broken dam, unstoppable.
I curled up on the bed, as if to ward off the icy despair in my soul.
I don’t know how much time passed. I tremblingly picked up my phone, compulsively opening Scarlett Vance’s Ins account.
I used to secretly look at it; it was filled with Scarlett and Julian’s daily romance, every photo, every caption exuding sweetness and showmanship.
For Scarlett’s casual remark, “I want cake from the west side of town,” Julian drove across half the city in the middle of the night to buy it.
To make Scarlett smile, Julian spent a fortune at an auction, commissioning a private fireworks display for her.
The internet was filled with envious comments.
“Mr. Blackwood spoils Ms. Vance rotten!”
“I heard Ms. Vance studied abroad back then, and Mr. Blackwood didn’t marry for years, just waiting for her.”
“So sweet!!”
Today, however, the comment section wasn’t praising a fairytale romance, but filled with vicious curses. They were all asking:
Amelia Evans, why doesn’t she just die?
My fingers trembled so violently I almost dropped the phone.
I didn’t know what had happened, so I clicked on the trending topics. A glaring headline immediately caught my eye:
“Blackwood Heiress Accused of Jealousy and Setting Up Scarlett Vance, On-Site Video Exposed!”
It was last night’s scene. The video was cleverly shot, the angle intentionally misleading.
In the footage, the moment I reached out, Scarlett stumbled backward, and the champagne tower crashed down.
Anyone watching would think I had pushed her.
At the same time, Scarlett posted a victim-playing message on her Ins:
“I never expected something like this to happen at my engagement party… my hand is hurt, it’s so painful. But I don’t blame her, she’s still young, it was just an impulsive act.” At the end of the text, she added: “I understand a young girl’s feelings, but such affection is ultimately wrong.”
The post was accompanied by a photo of her bandaged finger and a love letter.
It was my naive confession to Julian when I was eighteen.
He actually showed that to Scarlett. I twitched my lips, feeling only immense irony and ridicule.
Even more glaring was Julian Blackwood’s comment:
“I’ll handle it.”
Those brief words, four of them, instantly ignited the fury of netizens. The comment section exploded.
“Holy hell! She actually has *those* kinds of thoughts about her own uncle?!”
“That’s disgusting, this is incest, right?!”
“No wonder her parents died young, she has no upbringing!”
I scrolled through my phone, my fingertips trembling over the words “twisted obsession.” I clicked on the trending topics.
The hashtag #AmeliaEvansJulianBlackwood was followed by a blazing red “trending” icon.
The page was filled with black and white images of me, like mocking funeral portraits.
My fingers trembled as I scrolled, every comment like a knife, cutting me deeply.
I tried to explain, but as soon as I typed a few words, my account was reported and banned.
My private messages were filled with curses and insults.
6.
I put down my phone, my stomach churning, a metallic taste rising in my throat.
I bit my lip hard, swallowing the blood.
The hospital room door opened, and the doctor walked in, holding my test results, his brows furrowed:
“Miss Evans, your condition has worsened. Stage IV stomach cancer is already fragile, and you drank so much alcohol…” He paused. “Moreover, your depression has worsened significantly, and you need to start chemotherapy immediately. Last time, why did you ask me to keep it from Mr. Blackwood? Your current situation…”
I gave a desolate laugh:
“No need.”
“But your family—”
“What’s the point in telling him now?” I interrupted the doctor, my voice as faint as a fallen leaf. “Anyway, I’m leaving soon.”
The doctor looked like he wanted to say more but finally sighed:
“Chemotherapy can prolong your life…”
“I don’t like chemotherapy.” I shook my head, touching my straw-like hair. “It’s too ugly. Just let it be.”
The doctor gave me a helpless glance, then turned and left, as if I were already a corpse.
I stayed in the hospital for a few days; no one visited except my best friend, Chloe Adams. Julian’s phone was unreachable; I even suspected I’d been blocked.
Until the fifth day, Chloe called, her voice urgent:
“Mia, something terrible has happened!”
“Your parents’ headstone… it’s been vandalized.”
My breath caught in my throat.
“Those people surrounded your parents’ grave, holding protest signs, taking photos, saying they wouldn’t leave until you publicly apologized to Scarlett Vance…” She tremblingly opened her SnapChat. The hashtag #MyParentsGravesite was blazing across the trending topics.
In the video, my parents’ joint headstone was defaced with red paint, “Failed Parenting” scrawled across it, and offerings to the dead were kicked and scattered.
The voice on the other end of the phone blurred, leaving only a sharp buzzing in my ears.
My gaze fell on the bedside table, where a family photo sat—my parents hugging a young me, all smiles.
And now, where they lay buried, they couldn’t even rest in peace.
I mechanically hung up the phone, slowly got out of bed, and changed into my only clean clothes.
7.
As I left the hospital, the sky was so overcast it felt like it was pressing down on me.
I hailed a taxi and gave the address of the cemetery.
Soon, I arrived at my destination.
Media vans were parked outside the cemetery gates, and a crowd of people holding up their phones gathered there, as if waiting for something.
I pulled my hat low and quietly slipped in through a side entrance.
From a distance, I saw the crowd. They held banners that read “Amelia Evans Apologize,” and some shouted through megaphones, their voices piercingly loud in the silent cemetery.
At my parents’ grave, red paint covered the words “Jinx,” and their photos were slashed beyond recognition.
Offerings lay scattered, and the flowers were trampled to pulp. I stood frozen, my legs heavy as lead, unable to take another step.
My stomach twisted in pain, and cold sweat drenched my back.
The crowd spotted me and instantly swarmed forward.
“Bitch! You finally dared to show your face?!”
“Hurry up and apologize to Scarlett Vance!”
“How could your parents raise a daughter like you? They deserved to die early!”
Amidst the harsh shouts, someone shoved me. I staggered backward, hitting the cold headstone, and blood immediately streamed from my forehead.
I looked up at the defaced photos of my parents, and my tears finally broke free, a torrent.
“Apologize!”
The crowd shouted in unison, phone cameras aimed at my pale face.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My gaze swept over the crowd, landing on a distant tree.
Julian Blackwood stood there, watching coldly.
My last sliver of hope completely shattered. In that moment, I suddenly laughed.
I laughed until my whole body trembled, until tears streamed down my face, laughed so hard that the crowd exchanged glances, calling me “crazy.”
Under everyone’s watchful eyes, I slowly knelt down.
“I’m sorry…”
My voice was barely audible. The crowd fell silent for a moment.
I lowered my head, my fingers digging into the ground, blood seeping from under my nails.
“When I was ten, my parents died in a car accident…” My voice trembled. “Before they left, they held me tight and told me not to be scared…” My tears splattered on the ground.
“Mom would knit sweaters for me, Dad would secretly buy me candy… They never thought I was a jinx.” My throat tightened, as if something was blocking it.
“They loved me so much… truly loved me…”
Someone scoffed:
“What are you doing, playing the victim? Do you think that’ll make up for what you did to Scarlett?”
I didn’t look up, just continued:
“If you hate me, come at me… please, don’t disturb my parents anymore… they didn’t do anything wrong…”
My voice grew weaker, as if it could break off at any moment.
“I’m sorry…”
I suddenly raised my voice, tears mixing with blood as they flowed down.
“I’m sorry!” I cried out again, my voice hoarse beyond recognition.
A few scattered voices still jeered:
“What a pathetic act!”
“Do you think this will clear your name?”
My vision began to blur, and my stomach burned.
“I’m sorry…”
I cried out once more, my voice utterly broken.
Suddenly, I retched, a large mouthful of blood spewing out. The blood splattered on the ground, a shocking red.
My body swayed, my vision spun, and I collapsed heavily.
My whole body ached. In my ears, there were chaotic shouts of alarm, someone yelling “Call an ambulance,” and others scoffing, “She’s such a good actress.” My consciousness gradually faded, and before I completely sank into darkness, I seemed to see Julian Blackwood pushing through the crowd and rushing towards me.
His face was filled with a panic I’d never seen before, his brows furrowed, his lips trembling as he called my name.
I thought, this must be a hallucination. How could my Uncle Julian show such an expression for me?
Darkness consumed me.
8.
When I woke, everything was stark white.
I moved my fingers with difficulty and found a needle in the back of my hand, blue-green bruising visible under the skin.
The hospital room door suddenly opened, and Julian Blackwood strode in.
His face was grim, and he held a piece of paper, his knuckles white from his grip.
My gaze fell on the paper, and my pupils constricted sharply.
It was my stomach cancer diagnosis.
“What is this?”
Julian’s voice was ice-cold, as he flung the paper onto the bed.
The sheet fluttered lightly onto the covers, and my heart sank. I had never imagined he would find out.
I had planned to leave quietly, without alarming anyone.
I forced down my panic, looked up, and spoke calmly:
“It’s exactly what you see.”
A faint flicker of hope sparked in my heart.
Perhaps he would feel sad for me for just a second?
Even a momentary flicker of emotion would be enough to bring me some comfort in my final moments.
However, Julian scoffed, then suddenly raised his hand and slapped me hard.
“Slap!”
The sharp sound echoed in the room.
My face snapped to one side, a fiery pain instantly spreading across it. I froze, my ears ringing.
“Still lying to me.”
Julian’s voice was filled with disgust.
“You’re perfectly fine. If Scarlett hadn’t specifically brought in an expert to examine you, I would have really fallen for your trick.”
I felt like I’d plunged into an ice cellar, my face deathly pale.
I slowly turned my head, my eyes filled with disbelief as I looked at Julian. In his eyes, I was such a liar, someone who would even use cancer to play the victim?
My heart grew completely cold, and tears streamed silently down my face.
A sudden metallic taste filled my throat, and I coughed violently.
A mouthful of fresh blood gushed out, staining the pristine white bedspread.
Julian’s pupils constricted sharply, his gaze fixed on the blood I had coughed up.
Before him, I was skeletal, my face gray and withered, as if a gust of wind could scatter me.
A flicker of hesitation crossed his mind, but it was quickly suppressed by reason.
He thought of Scarlett. She was kind and gentle; she had donated a kidney for his illness all those years ago, waited for him for so long, and now she was being framed.
He couldn’t soften because of my pathetic act.
“Because of what you did at the cemetery, Scarlett’s reputation is now very poor, caught in a media storm.” Julian said coldly.
“She was so depressed she wanted to commit suicide. If I hadn’t found her in time, you would have to atone for her your entire life!”
My heart felt like it was being sliced by a knife.
When I was being cyber-bullied, did Julian worry for me even for a second?
Now that Scarlett suffered a minor grievance, he was rushing to accuse me.
“I told you, I didn’t do it.” My voice was hoarse, filled with shattered despair. “You don’t believe me. Do you want me to kneel again?”
Julian’s anger ignited instantly. He grabbed my wrist, his grip so strong it felt like my bones would be crushed:
“Unrepentant! Just because you like me, you would frame Scarlett like this. Julian Blackwood can’t afford to be embarrassed by you!”
I suddenly laughed, a desolate and desperate laugh. I violently flung his hand away, yelling with all my might:
“I don’t like you! I haven’t liked you for a long time!”
Julian froze. My eyes held none of the usual infatuation, only cold detachment and shattered despair. In that instant, his heart felt as if something had pierced it, but it was quickly replaced by anger.
“Good, very good.” He sneered, turning towards the door and shouting, “Guards!”
Two bodyguards immediately pushed open the door.
“Take her to The Horizon Academy.” Julian’s voice was unquestionable. “Release her when she admits her mistake.”
My breath hitched, and my body trembled uncontrollably.
The Horizon Academy, that place rumored to break people, body and soul.
Once inside, all contact with the outside world was severed until one was “reformed” to their liking.
The bodyguards stepped forward, grabbed my arms, and roughly dragged me off the hospital bed.
The IV needle was ripped out, and blood immediately welled up on the back of my hand.
I didn’t struggle; I just stared fixedly at Julian, my eyes terrifyingly vacant.
“Julian Blackwood.” My voice was as faint as a fallen leaf. “If one day you know the truth, will you regret it?”
Julian frowned, but didn’t answer. The bodyguards dragged me out, my figure so frail it seemed I could vanish at any moment.
The hospital room door slowly closed. Julian stood there, a sudden, inexplicable irritation welling up in his heart.
He glanced down at the blood-stained bedsheet, his brows furrowed.
A moment later, he took out his phone and dialed Scarlett Vance, his voice instantly softening:
“Scarlett, it’s handled… Don’t worry, I’m here.”
On the other end of the line, Scarlett’s voice was tearful:
“Julian, those people online are saying such terrible things… I can’t take it anymore…”
“I’ll be right there.”
He forced himself to look away and strode out of the room.
In the hallway, medical staff hurried past with a medicine cart, no one noticing the grim-faced man.
Julian walked to the elevator, pressed the button, but the image of me coughing blood kept replaying in his mind.
The elevator doors slowly closed, swallowing his figure.
9.
When I was dragged into The Horizon Academy, it was already dark. The iron gate slammed shut behind me, emitting a dull clang.
My wrists were roughly held by bodyguards, and I was stumbled into a pitch-black room.
“Get in.”
A bodyguard coldly tossed the words, then slammed the door shut. Darkness swallowed everything.
I curled up in the corner, trembling uncontrollably. I didn’t know what would happen next.
Footsteps sounded outside the door, followed by a blinding flashlight beam directly onto my face.
“Amelia Evans?”
A middle-aged man’s voice echoed, his tone filled with condescending scrutiny.
I struggled to look up and saw a cold, indifferent face. It was Director Thorne, the head of the academy.
“I hear you have inappropriate feelings for your uncle?” He scoffed. “Not very old, but quite bold.”
I didn’t answer, just bit down hard on my lip. Seeing my silence, Director Thorne sneered and turned to the person behind him:
“Take her to the Rehabilitation Chamber.”
Two burly men immediately stepped forward, grabbing my arms and dragging me out.
The Rehabilitation Chamber was a cramped room, its walls lined with electroshock devices and restraints.
I was forced into a chair, my hands and feet firmly bound by leather straps.
“First rehabilitation session, just to make you recognize reality.” Director Thorne looked down at me.
I was strapped into the electroshock chair, and currents repeatedly surged through my body, the intense pain almost making me lose consciousness.
Again and again, until I completely passed out.
The days that followed plunged me into hell. I was confined in a sunless room, given only a bowl of watery gruel each day.
If I didn’t cooperate with the “rehabilitation,” even that meager food was withheld.
Once, I was so hungry I couldn’t bear it, and I trembled as I crawled towards the door, only to be kicked over by a guard.
“Want food?” The guard sneered. “Crawl over here and bark like a dog.”
My stomach cramped, and my vision blurred.
I bit my lip hard, but eventually, driven by hunger, I slowly crawled over.
“Woof…” My voice was so weak it was barely audible.
The guard laughed loudly and casually tossed a piece of moldy bread onto the floor.
“Eat it.”
I tremblingly reached for it, but just as my fingers were about to touch it, another foot stomped hard on my hand.
“Beg me.”
I trembled all over from the pain, tears hitting the ground, but I stubbornly refused to speak.
The guard sneered, adding more pressure. My fingers were almost crushed, but I clenched my jaw, refusing to beg.
Finally, the guard released his foot, bored, and walked away, cursing.
I curled up on the ground, trembling as I picked up the dust-covered bread and slowly shoved it into my mouth.
My stomach churned, but I didn’t dare to vomit. Because if I threw up, I would truly have nothing left.
Two weeks passed, and I was gaunt, a shadow of my former self.
My eyes were vacant; no matter how much they hit or cursed me, I was like a soulless shell, unresponsive.
Director Thorne finally panicked.
“What’s wrong with her?” he frowned, asking his subordinate.
“Don’t know, she’s been like this for two days, not eating, not drinking.”
Director Thorne impatiently waved his hand:
“Find someone with medical knowledge to check her.”
Soon, a man in a white coat walked in. After a brief examination, his face changed.
“She already has stage IV stomach cancer. Now her body has completely collapsed. I estimate… she won’t last much longer.”
Director Thorne paused, then sneered:
“Julian Blackwood clearly doesn’t want her. He didn’t even come to pick her up for his wedding tomorrow. He probably won’t ever think of her again.”
He pondered for a moment, then waved his hand:
“Give her some medicine, just don’t let her die here.”
The subordinate nodded:
“What about after that?”
Director Thorne glanced at my dying form and said blandly:
“Once Ms. Vance is satisfied, we’ll ‘take care’ of her.”
Their conversation clearly reached my ears.
My pupils constricted slightly, but I didn’t even have the strength for fear. They would kill me.
And I didn’t even have the strength to resist.
Everyone left, and the room plunged into darkness again.
I curled up in the corner, freezing cold. I could no longer cough up blood, my breathing so shallow it seemed it could stop at any moment.
Would I die? I hugged my head, trembling incessantly, muttering to myself:
“I was wrong… I was wrong…”
I didn’t know what I was wrong about, but if I didn’t admit it, those people would hit me, they wouldn’t give me food.
In a daze, I seemed to feel a warm hand gently caress my hair.
My body trembled, thinking it was those people. I instinctively recoiled, incoherently repeating:
“I was wrong… I’m sorry…”
But the voice was silent for a long time, finally sighing softly and saying to me:
“Mia.”
“Let me take you away.”
10.
On the eve of the wedding, Scarlett Vance’s social media was practically flooded.
She posted over a dozen Ins updates, each meticulously curated with photos.
From the delicate lace details of her wedding dress to the dazzling facets of her diamond ring, everything announced the upcoming wedding of the century to the world.
“Tomorrow, I’ll be Mrs. Blackwood, thank you for all your blessings!”
The post was accompanied by a side profile of her in her custom wedding gown, the shattered diamonds on the skirt shimmering in the light. The comments section was filled with envy:
“This is a true high-society wedding!”
“Mr. Blackwood’s devoted husband image holds strong!”
“Scarlett Vance must have saved the galaxy in her last life!”
Scarlett looked at the continuously rising popularity with satisfaction, then tapped her finger and posted another update:
“Our wedding will be live-streamed tomorrow. Everyone is welcome to witness our happy moment~”
Meanwhile, Julian Blackwood stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, expressionlessly looking at the constant stream of notifications on his phone.
For the past two weeks, he had been distracted. Marrying Scarlett was something he had planned for years, yet now that the day was truly here, he felt an inexplicable emptiness.
“Julian, do you think this wedding dress looks good?” Scarlett’s voice drifted from the walk-in closet, interrupting his thoughts.
Julian looked up and saw Scarlett emerge in a magnificent wedding gown, the crystals on the skirt glittering blindingly in the light.
“It’s beautiful.” He replied mechanically, his gaze involuntarily drifting outside the window.
In a haze, he seemed to see eighteen-year-old me. That year, I had secretly tried on his white shirt, laughing like a child who had stolen candy.
“Uncle Julian, do I look good in your clothes?” The girl’s voice was clear and sweet, with a hint of playful charm.
“Julian? Are you listening to me?” Scarlett frowned, displeased, and waved her hand in front of his eyes. Julian snapped back to reality, suppressing the strange emotion in his heart:
“Sorry, something came up at the office.”
Scarlett pouted, then turned to look in the mirror, not noticing his suddenly dark expression.
Julian walked onto the balcony and lit a cigarette.
In the swirling smoke, he remembered when I was fifteen, how I had secretly tried his cigarette out of curiosity and choked, tears streaming down my face.
He had been furious and swatted my hand.
But later that night, he had quietly gone to my room to apply medicine.
The young girl, with red-rimmed eyes, had said:
“Uncle Julian, I was wrong.”
What had he replied then?
“Mr. Blackwood, Miss Adams is here again.” Mr. Henderson’s voice interrupted his memories.
Julian frowned: “Tell her to leave.”
“She said…” Mr. Henderson hesitated. “If she doesn’t see you today, she’ll cause a scene with the press.”
Julian’s eyes instantly turned cold.
In the reception room, Chloe Adams had red eyes, and rushed towards him as soon as she saw him:
“Julian Blackwood, where did you take Mia?!”
“That’s none of your business.”
“How can you be so heartless? You raised her yourself, you—!” Chloe’s voice almost tore. “Don’t you know she…?”
“Enough!” Julian cut her off sharply. “What kind of charade are you two planning now?”
Chloe stared at him, then suddenly smiled:
“You’ll regret this.”
Julian looked at her coldly: “I never regret anything.”
Chloe left, but not before throwing one last sentence back:
“You’re just banking on her loving you.”
“Have you ever considered what if one day, she completely disappears and never comes back?”
Julian’s heart sank suddenly. For some reason, he remembered the several missed calls he had received from a funeral home these past few days.
His time was precious, and he never answered such nuisance calls.
No, that’s impossible.
He forced himself to calm down. It had been two weeks; Mia must have reflected enough at the academy.
Tomorrow was his wedding to Scarlett, it was time to bring me out.
He wanted me to witness his marriage, to completely sever those inappropriate feelings.
After that, he would give me the best life, compensate me well.
Julian picked up his phone and dialed his subordinate:
“Go to The Horizon Academy and bring Miss Evans out. Bring her to the wedding tomorrow.”
After hanging up, his phone rang again.
It was that funeral home number again. Julian’s finger hovered over the answer button, but he didn’t press it.
“Julian! Come try on your suit!” Scarlett called from upstairs.
He ultimately did not answer that call.
The next day, the wedding venue was breathtakingly luxurious.
The entire hotel was booked, from the entrance to the ceremony hall, overflowing with imported roses, their scent so dense it was almost suffocating.
Media stood with long lenses and microphones on either side of the red carpet, flashbulbs popping incessantly.
Scarlett, linked arm-in-arm with Julian, walked down the red carpet, her radiant smile and long train trailing behind her.
Julian walked beside her, his expression impassive, his gaze occasionally sweeping towards the entrance.
Why hadn’t Amelia Evans arrived yet?
“And now, will the bride and groom please exchange rings.”
The emcee’s voice brought his thoughts back.
Julian mechanically picked up the ring, just about to place it on Scarlett’s finger, when his phone rang again.
It was the funeral home. This time, as if by a strange impulse, he pressed the answer button.
“Mr. Blackwood, Miss Evans…”
He didn’t hear the rest, because the doors of the ceremony hall were suddenly flung open.
Mr. Henderson stumbled in, his face streaked with tears, clutching a small box tightly in his arms.
The butler, steady as a rock for decades, now looked like a helpless child, crying so hard he could barely stand.
The entire hall erupted in murmurs, and live broadcast cameras swung to capture the unexpected interruption.
“Sir…” Mr. Henderson choked, barely able to form a complete sentence. “Miss Mia… she…”
🌟 Continue the story here
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I started dating Scarlett Song, known for being extremely flirtatious and having countless boyfriends. Everyone thought I was madly infatuated with her.
When she skipped class to go shopping, I helped her take notes.
When she flirted with other guys, I covered for her relationships.
For three years, I acted as her devoted admirer, doing everything in my power to help her get into Harvard University. But right before the semester started, I was dumped.
She had a haughty attitude and looked down on me, saying, “I know you’ve liked me for a long time, but all you think about is studying. Compared to Chris, you’re too boring. Let’s break up. I want to be with Chris.”
Everyone was waiting to see me fall apart.
I glanced at the $50 million that had appeared in my bank account and sincerely said, “Okay, congratulations.”
No one knew that my unconditional pursuit of her was purely because her father had offered me so much money.
Now that the money was in my account, it was naturally time for me to leave.
“He just said ‘congratulations’ after being dumped by the campus beauty?!”
“He hung up in less than a minute, so quickly. Could he be going crazy from the pain?”
“It doesn’t look like it. He’s too calm. It seems more like he’s been looking forward to this breakup.”
As these words fell, someone cautiously glanced at Scarlett Song. She was leaning against her new boyfriend’s arms, but her beautiful face looked very angry.
That person hurriedly said, “Bailey has liked Miss Song for so many years, everyone can see that. How could he not care? He must be holding it in and not saying anything!”
“I bet it won’t be more than three days before he comes back begging Miss Song not to abandon him!”
Scarlett Song’s gloomy face softened a bit. “If he comes back begging me, I might consider forgiving him. We’ll see what he does.”
I was completely unaware of their discussion as I pulled my suitcase to the train station.
Even if I had heard their mockery, I would have only responded with a cold smile.
If it weren’t for my parents believing that school was useless for kids and that I should work at a construction site while I was young…
If it weren’t for my college acceptance letter being torn to shreds, and me nearly being beaten to death by my alcoholic father, only to have Scarlett’s father find me at that moment and make an offer—
As long as I could help Scarlett get into Harvard University, not only would he pay for my high school tuition, but he would also give me $50 million…
I wouldn’t have followed behind Miss Scarlett Song, coming whenever she beckoned, doing whatever she asked without complaint, acting as her devoted admirer.
For three whole years.
I used every means possible to turn her from a student who failed every subject into a straight-A student, successfully getting her into Harvard University.
Now that everything had been achieved, I could finally take the money and leave. How could I be heartbroken over her changing boyfriends?
From the very beginning, I only wanted to struggle and fight my way out of hell, to strive for a better future for myself.
Love had never had anything to do with me.
After the semester started, I didn’t report to the university that had accepted me.
My parents wouldn’t let me go anyway. After all, a student who could get into Harvard could earn a high salary working manual labor.
If I was going to leave, I had to go further away.
Over the summer months, I achieved fluency in French.
I successfully applied for overseas study.
As I boarded the flight to Paris, Scarlett sent me a reconciliation text,
“Why did you delete all my contact information?”
“Bailey, haven’t you thrown enough of a tantrum this whole summer? Even if I’m with Chris now, we can still be friends. Stop acting out and add my contact information back.”
These words still carried that haughty, looking-down-on-me attitude.
As if she was certain that I would return to her side like a dog wagging its tail, no matter how willful she was or how much she trampled on my feelings, just like I had for the past three years.
I simply took out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and casually tossed it into the airport trash can.
Along with all the humiliation, calculations, and memories I didn’t want to recall that the SIM card carried, I discarded it all.
The plane flew across the sky, covering up all my past experiences.
Later, I heard from a friend that Scarlett had left comments on all my previous social media platforms.
The content was basically along the lines of “Haven’t you had enough?” “It’s just dating, why are you so angry?” “Hurry up and add my contact information back!” and so on.
He said, “At first, Scarlett was certain you would come back to her. When you didn’t, she gradually became more and more irritated. Sometimes just mentioning your name could make her angry.”
It felt like I was listening to someone else’s story. I had no thoughts about it.
Using the $50 million Mr. Song had given me, I started anew in Paris.
I chose a top design school. Language, culture, heavy coursework,
Everything was a new challenge, but there was no Scarlett Song to please, no suffocating original family. There were only paintbrushes, drawings, and endless aspirations for the future.
Several years flew by quickly.
With the dual effects of talent and hard work, the clothes I designed began to show impressive results at various fashion weeks, and I won several prestigious international awards.
I was also assigned as the newly appointed chief designer of Lumina, sent back to my home country to expand the North American market.
On my first day back.
While having lunch at the restaurant downstairs from the branch office, a hesitant voice sounded behind me: “Bailey? Is that you?”
I turned around to see a somewhat familiar guy.
It seemed to be Tommy Lu, who sat in front of me in high school.
He stared at me with wide eyes, not hiding his up-and-down appraisal, his eyes full of amazement and disbelief.
“My God! It really is you! You’ve changed so much!”
Gone was the timidity and deliberately ingratiating submissiveness of high school. Time and experience had given me a calm and composed demeanor.
“Long time no see.”
“It really is you! What a coincidence!” Tommy Lu seemed very excited.
“There happens to be a class reunion tonight, just at the restaurant upstairs. A lot of classmates are coming, including Scarlett! You must come! Everyone probably won’t recognize you!”
Scarlett?
This name was like a distant symbol that hadn’t appeared in my mind for a long time.
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My wife Delilah Reyes was having an affair with Owen Reed, a personal trainer.
Delilah was completely mesmerized by Owen’s muscular physique and spent a million dollars to boost his performance metrics.
My daughter Emily Lopez, just like Delilah, had also fallen for another trainer named Jacob Taylor.
When I sensed something was wrong and banned them from going to the gym, Delilah accused me of being narrow-minded: “Women dress up for those who appreciate them. If I get in great shape, you’re the one who benefits in the end, aren’t you? Don’t interfere with an independent woman’s freedom.”
Emily said I wasn’t a qualified father: “Dad, aren’t you being too conservative? Girls my age are already having babies. You’re way too controlling!”
The mother and daughter teamed up to deceive me.
Later, for the sake of those men, they even wanted me dead.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day I discovered Delilah’s chat records.
This time, I wouldn’t confront them directly. Instead, I would lead them step by step toward their downfall.
Delilah said to me, “Christian, the trainer at the gym downstairs has such a sincere attitude. I’d like to work out there every day. Is that okay?” Christian Lopez is my name.
I smiled and nodded: “Of course. Whatever makes you happy.”
*****
When I opened my eyes, I was standing in the bedroom.
The sound of running water came from the bathroom.
Delilah’s phone was in my hand. I realized I had been reborn.
The phone screen was still lit, displaying chat records.
The initial messages seemed normal enough, just discussing personal training rates.
But after Owen sent a muscle photo, the entire tone of their conversation changed.
Owen: [Sorry about that, Delilah. I sent that by mistake. I’ll delete it right away.]
Delilah sent a sneaky laughing emoji.
Then replied: [You can send more. I like looking at them.]
After that, Owen really did send several more photos, with less and less clothing.
When the photos revealed his sculpted abs and chest muscles, Delilah was completely hooked.
Delilah: [Oh my God! Your body is incredible! I’ve always been into muscular men. My legs are literally weak right now.]
Owen: [Delilah, I like your type of woman. Let me tell you a secret – if you become my exclusive member, I can fulfill any member’s needs.]
Finally, they even had a video call.
The water in the bathroom suddenly stopped. I quickly put the phone back where I found it.
Delilah emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. When she saw me, panic flashed across her face.
She asked, “Christian, how come you’re back?”
Delilah glanced at the phone on the bedside table, looking particularly nervous.
I replied, “Nothing much. I came home and didn’t see you, so I came in to check.”
With that, I returned to the living room.
Shortly after, Delilah came out dressed.
She said, “Christian, I tried out the gym today and it felt really good. I’d like to work out there during the day.”
I had no reason to refuse: “Of course you can.”
Delilah smiled brightly: “Christian, you’re so sweet.”
In my previous life, when I discovered those chat records on her phone, I lost my temper on the spot.
I even banned her from going to the gym.
At the time, Delilah thought I was narrow-minded: “Women dress up for those who appreciate them. If I get in great shape, you’re the one who benefits in the end, aren’t you? Don’t interfere with an independent woman’s freedom.”
Later, she waited for Emily to get home from school and told her about it, getting our daughter to take her side.
Since I’d always spoiled Emily, I didn’t insist on stopping them.
But I never expected Delilah and Owen’s relationship to become intimate so quickly.
During that period, I was working my ass off at the company.
Meanwhile, Owen was having an affair with my wife.
Delilah even spent a million dollars boosting Owen’s performance metrics. I wanted revenge but had no solid evidence.
This time, I wouldn’t tip them off early.
I would lead Emily and Delilah step by step toward their downfall.
Delilah and I started dating in college and eventually got married.
During college, she did a great job hiding her true nature, which only fully emerged after we tied the knot.
After marriage, Delilah volunteered to become a full-time housewife.
She told me: “I want to be a modern independent woman. I don’t want to waste my life scrambling to make ends meet. I hope to explore the true meaning of life in the future.”
All of Delilah’s so-called “goals” required my financial support.
I worked hard every day, only to fund her leisurely lifestyle.
But I thought this was for her own good, so I put up with it.
I just hoped she would develop some hobbies and take classes in subjects she enjoyed.
But whenever I made suggestions, she’d use having children as leverage against me.
She’d say: “I gave you a child, so it’s only natural that you support me. Don’t tell me what to do – I know what I want.”
Over time, Delilah’s weight began spiraling out of control.
Right around then, a new gym opened downstairs from our place. The good-looking guy handing out flyers at the entrance, Christian, was handsome and had a great physique.
The thing Delilah did most at home was watch videos of attractive men on her phone.
So her being drawn to the gym didn’t surprise me at all.
This gym appeared to operate as a fitness business on the surface, but actually specialized in scamming money from wealthy women.
In my previous life, when I discovered Delilah had spent $100,000 on Owen, I demanded she get the money back.
But Delilah just complained: “You’re not hurting for that $100,000. I gave you Emily – isn’t she worth $100,000? I’m going to the gym for the good of this family. Once I get in shape, won’t you benefit too?”
When I insisted she get a refund, she called Emily over and even let Emily experience being pampered by the fitness trainer Jacob.
Emily also thought I was being too controlling: “Dad, you know what? You’re suffocating me. Mom and I aren’t your puppets – we need to live freely. My poor grades are because you won’t let me go to the gym to relax, otherwise I wouldn’t be dead last in my class.”
Back then, I felt life had to go on and we had a long road ahead. I thought temporarily putting up with things would prevent conflicts from escalating and let things settle down.
But I never expected that my tolerance would only lead to increasingly outrageous behavior from them.
Eventually, both mother and daughter ended up having inappropriate relationships with the fitness trainers.
Now I see clearly that Emily’s values are becoming more and more like Delilah’s.
This child has very likely already gone astray.
For a child who’s already gone bad, there’s no point in wasting effort trying to discipline her – it’s better to just give up.
I went to work as usual, while Delilah spent the entire day at the gym.
When she came home, I could tell immediately that her day hadn’t been simple. Her face was flushed, and she reeked of heavy perfume.
In the past, when I came home from work, she’d always been cold toward me. But today, she was unusually enthusiastic.
I knew that perfume was just meant to mask another man’s scent. She was already cheating.
Delilah said to me, “Christian, I want to go hiking with my good friend Mila Wright tomorrow. You don’t want me staying home all day, do you?”
How could she possibly be going hiking with Mila? They were both lazy. She was just looking for a reasonable excuse for her affair.
I replied, “Sure, that’s a good thing.”
Delilah was particularly happy and even gave me a light kiss on the forehead. She was already looking forward to tomorrow’s passion.
The next day, Delilah didn’t rush out until noon.
I took the day off from work. My wife was with another man—how could I possibly focus on work?
For this kind of woman, I had to expose her shameful behavior.
As soon as it got dark, I called Delilah.
I called three times in a row, and she didn’t answer. It wasn’t until the fourth call that she picked up.
Delilah’s voice sounded rushed, and she was breathing heavily.
She said, “Honey, what’s up?”
I asked, “What are you doing?”
She replied, “I’m running. No, I need to speed up. Let’s not talk right now.”
Over the phone, Delilah’s breathing became more and more labored. I could even hear a man’s breathing mixed in.
Then she quickly hung up.
I called several more times after that, but Delilah didn’t answer.
I calmly posted a missing person notice on four social media platforms.
The content read: [My wife went hiking but suddenly lost contact. Hope kind people can provide information about her whereabouts.]
I also spent $100,000 on traffic promotion. In just one hour, the keywords “hiking” and “missing” became trending topics.
Even the local police were alerted.
About half an hour later, the police contacted me saying they had found my wife, and that she and a man were now both in a hotel lobby.
I drove to the hotel the police mentioned.
When I arrived, I found that many media outlets and reporters had already gathered outside the hotel.
Camera shutters were clicking constantly.
Delilah looked pale, her clothes wrinkled and disheveled.
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After I got pregnant, my husband, a notorious playboy, utterly transformed. He not only cut off all his flirtations but also showered me with affection.
Until one day before my due date, I accidentally overheard him talking to his buddy, Jake.
“Michael, that young woman you’ve been sponsoring, is she still bothering you? She’s younger and prettier than your wife. Don’t you feel anything for her?”
Michael scoffed, a sneer twisting his face.
“What is she? She’s not even fit to shine my wife’s shoes. I’m just doing something good to earn some good karma for my wife. The sooner she’s gone, the better.”
A wave of sweetness swelled in my heart. I thought I’d finally found true happiness.
But who would’ve thought? The very next day, as I was on my way to the hospital, that girl drove her car straight into us.
She held a terminal diagnosis in her hand, tears streaming down her face, unable to stop them.
“Michael, I don’t have much time left. If you won’t have me, are you forcing me to die to finally feel at peace?!”
I was already bleeding, kneeling in the car, begging Michael to rush me to the hospital.
But he ruthlessly kicked me away and locked the car doors.
“Get out! If Novia gets hurt, neither you nor the baby in your Belly will live!”
I was trapped in the car for an entire day and night.
By the time someone found me and pulled me out, my baby’s heartbeat was gone.
At my lowest, Michael actually called.
“Let’s get divorced first. Novia’s condition can’t wait. I need to take her abroad for treatment as her husband.”
Tears streaming down my face, I agreed to his demand. I clutched my baby’s ashes and left that heartbreaking place.
Five years later, I was living in a remote fishing village, scavenging for junk to survive. I never expected to see Michael again.
His gaze fell on my three-year-old daughter in my arms, and his eyes actually reddened.
“Didn’t I tell you to wait for me at home? And what do you do? You’re out here picking up trash with my daughter! Look how thin she is! Are you even fit to be a mother?”
*****
“A five-year-old kid is so thin. Elma Pollitt, how exactly do you take care of her as a mother?”
“I thought you were so principled, not contacting me for five years. Turns out you’re just out here picking up trash with the kid, huh? Don’t tell me you knew I was coming for an inspection today and decided to put on this show for me?”
My little daughter was in my arms, and my mind went blank, being yelled at by the man who’d suddenly appeared.
It took me a while to realize who he was. It was Michael Dryden, my ex-husband from five years ago.
And the woman clinging to his arm, dressed in designer clothes, was none other than Novia Camilla, the young woman he’d sponsored back then.
Seeing them so intimate, I instinctively hugged my daughter tighter. My mind spun, memories dragging me back five years.
Back then, I’d just gotten pregnant. Michael, who was always cold and distant, suddenly started sponsoring a high school girl from an orphanage and even let her move into our home.
The first time I saw Novia, pale and in worn-out clothes, my heart softened.
Even with my baby bump, I cooked her nutritious meals. I’d stay up late, helping her with her studies, tutoring her often.
Under my care, Novia brightened up significantly, smiling more often.
Her grades skyrocketed from last in class to first in her grade, and she eventually got into a prestigious university.
But I never imagined that the first thing she’d do after turning eighteen was to hook up with Michael, betraying me!
Seeing that I hadn’t spoken, Michael’s eyes fell on my daughter.
His brows furrowed, and he said with clear dissatisfaction, “Why is it a girl? My mother has been hoping for a grandson for years, and she was already unhappy with you. Now you have another daughter? How am I supposed to explain this to her?”
Only then did I realize he thought the child in my arms was his.
I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh.
He had the nerve to bring that up?
That child, our child, had died five years ago, suffocated to death inside me.
And the one responsible for the baby’s death was *him*, the biological father!
Anger churned in my chest. I took a deep breath and stepped back, hugging my daughter tightly.
“You’re mistaken. This child isn’t yours…”
My clarification was cut short.
Novia suddenly interrupted me, shaking Michael’s arm as she purred, “Michael, I can give you children! My illness is long gone. I can have as many as you want.”
Michael affectionately pinched her nose, smiling. “You’ve just recovered, sweetheart. I can’t bear for you to go through that right now. You just need to be my little princess.”
Then, he turned to me, looking utterly disdainful.
“Elma Pollitt, for the past five years, Novia has suffered so much abroad, endured so much pain. And you? All you know is to compete with her, throwing tantrums all day, not even a single word of comfort. Someone as cold and heartless as you truly doesn’t deserve her kindness.”
I rolled my eyes at his words, completely speechless.
For the past five years, my email had been flooded with photos and videos Novia sent from all over the world.
In those pictures, she looked rosy-cheeked and full of life. Where was the sick patient?
I had no interest in saying more. I picked up the garbage tongs beside me and waved them in front of him.
This gesture instantly scared Novia, and she started crying.
Michael looked me up and down, pinching his nose and frowning as he took a step back.
“Look at you now, a complete mess! You reek of garbage. What’s the difference between you and a homeless person? So you pretended to be dignified for five years? In the end, you still came crawling back to me, didn’t you?”
“Don’t think bringing a child here will make me take you back or start over. We ended things the moment you impulsively blocked me.”
My daughter in my arms was startled by his tone and burst into tears.
Michael’s expression softened slightly, and he reached out to her. “Shh, don’t cry, sweetie. Daddy will take you home. Don’t stay with this crazy woman.”
What he got in return was Nina’s even more heartbroken scream: “I don’t want you to hug me! You’re not fit to be my daddy! You’re a meanie who bullies Mommy! I hate you the most!”
Publicly humiliated, Michael’s face instantly darkened. He glared at me and said coldly, “Is this how you raise her? She has no manners whatsoever! I lived with you for five years, no wonder you’re full of flaws! My family won’t acknowledge such an ill-mannered child. Don’t show your face to me again until you’ve sorted yourself out.”
No one can tolerate someone speaking ill of their child like that.
I clenched my fists and spoke coldly, “You’re wrong. This isn’t your daughter. She has nothing to do with you.”
Michael froze for a moment.
Then he scoffed, completely uncaring. “Elma Pollitt, always so quick with your words, aren’t you? I hate that fake innocent act of yours. It’s disgusting.”
“Still pretending at a time like this? If you don’t get down on your knees and beg me, then just get lost and spare me the sight of you!”
With that, he pulled a few bills from his pocket and slapped them against my face. “Look at how poor you two look. Take this and buy yourselves some decent clothes. Don’t go around embarrassing yourselves.”
Then, he put his arm around Novia and walked away.
I looked down at my old, orange work uniform and couldn’t help but curse his ancestors in my mind.
Michael, of course, had no idea that the T-shirt I was wearing underneath was a limited-edition design by world-renowned designer Krena, priced at a staggering one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
My daughter’s cartoon jacket was also a high-end luxury brand.
As for me, I had remarried four years ago and had another child. How could I ever go back to the past?
My special ringtone rang. I collected myself and answered. A gentle, deep voice came from the other end: “My dearest wife, you must be tired from your business trip. I’ve arranged the lounge for you. Take the baby in and get some good rest.”
“I really want to see you right now. I’ll come over right after my meeting this afternoon.”
My usually reserved husband was actually whining like a big kid, and my heart warmed.
After hanging up, I led my daughter to the lounge door. From inside, I heard faint, intimate sounds of heavy breathing…
Pushing the door open, I saw Michael and Novia entangled on the sofa, in a very intimate embrace.
I quickly covered my daughter’s eyes and ears.
Michael angrily picked up a nearby water glass and threw it at me.
“Get out! Who let you in? Is this a place for a beggar like you?!”
The glass hit my forehead, and the pain made my vision swim.
Before I could even recover,
Several project managers rushed in, politely apologizing to Michael.
“We’re truly sorry, Mr. Dryden. We were negligent. We’ll take her out immediately.”
Furious, I shook off the person holding me and shouted, “This is *my* lounge! What right do you have to kick me out?”
The scene fell into a sudden silence.
Then, a few people started laughing.
Seeing they didn’t believe me, I was about to pull out my phone to prove myself.
But Michael rushed over, snatched my phone, and violently smashed it on the floor. The screen shattered into several pieces.
Before I could speak,
He sneered coldly, “Have you been dreaming for too long? Is your mind not clear? This lounge is exclusively for Richard Bill, one of the wealthiest men in the country. Even I can only sit here to discuss business. Who do you think you are, spouting such nonsense?”
“You’ve gone this far to seduce me. You really have no shame.”
A few stout middle-aged men eyed me with strange looks.
“Mr. Dryden, who is this woman?”
Michael chuckled coldly, casually saying, “Don’t know her. But looking at her, she’s probably selling herself, isn’t she?”
Novia leaned against him, giggling, her fingers tracing circles on his chest. “Michael, you’re so mean to my sister.”
After hearing Michael ruthlessly humiliate me,
The project managers’ faces immediately twisted with disgust. A barrage of nasty comments followed.
“This kind of woman actually dares to come here and seduce Mr. Dryden, and with a child! She has no shame. Be careful not to catch anything.”
“With your pathetic appearance, you can’t do anything else. You might as well go beg for food.”
“We’ve seen plenty of women like you. They’re full of tricks, willing to do anything for money. If Mr. Dryden doesn’t want her, you can give her to me to play with. I haven’t seen a piece of trash like this in ages.”
I kept my daughter tightly hugged, not letting her hear those vulgar words.
“Don’t go too far! There’s a child here!”
But it still scared Nina. The little girl cried out.
Michael seemed to think it had gone a bit too far. His face darkened, and he roared, “Who told you to talk like that? Are you looking to die?!”
The men exchanged glances and quickly shut up.
I ignored him, focusing on comforting my daughter in my arms.
Just as I finally managed to calm her down,
I looked up and saw Michael staring at me thoughtfully, a hint of complexity in his eyes.
He seemed about to say something, but Novia spoke first, putting on a generous and gentle facade:
“Sister Elma, it must have been hard for you raising a child alone all these years. My body is still recovering, and I just happen to need a nanny. Why don’t you come and take care of me? I’ll pay you two thousand five hundred a month. It’s much better than picking up trash outside.”
As soon as she finished speaking, Michael pulled her close and kissed her deeply on the lips.
“Novia, you’re so considerate. You really break my heart.”
Novia blushed and buried her head in his chest.
Watching them being so sickeningly sweet, I felt goosebumps all over my body. Suppressing my disgust, I refused:
“Thank you for your kind offer, but I really like my current job.”
With that, I ignored Michael’s grim face, hugged my daughter, and walked straight out.
These two lunatics. If I can’t deal with them, I can at least avoid them, right?
Behind me, I heard the sound of things smashing, mixed with Michael’s furious roar:
“Elma Pollitt, are you really that useless? You’re still a complete failure, aren’t you? And you still think you can remarry me? No way!”
I slammed the door shut.
My phone was shattered, so I had no choice but to find a shady spot to rest with my daughter.
The little one leaned softly against me, asking in her tender voice, “Mommy, who were those people just now? Why were they saying mean things? When is Daddy coming to pick us up?”
I gently kissed her forehead, softly telling her, “Those were bad people, Nina. Don’t mind them. Daddy will be here soon to pick us up. Let’s wait patiently, okay?”
She nodded vigorously, and her expression made me kiss her little cheek again.
The weather was getting hotter. I told my daughter to sit quietly here and wait while I went to get some water.
But when I came back with the water, I suddenly heard my daughter crying loudly, “Mommy, help me! Let go of me!”
The sight before my eyes broke my heart.
Novia was clutching my daughter by the neck, slamming her onto the ground.
Seeing this, my rage erupted. All reason vanished.
I lunged forward and slapped Novia hard across the face.
Just as I snatched Nina from her grasp,
Michael rushed over.
Novia was already crying uncontrollably, snot and tears running down her face as she threw herself into his arms. “Michael, I saw her alone there and just wanted to be nice and keep her company. But then this child suddenly bit me! I only said a few words to her, and Sister Elma rushed over and hit me!”
Michael looked at the red mark on her face and the teeth marks on her hand. His face instantly turned cold, his eyes blazing with fury.
“Elma Pollitt, how dare you lay a hand on my woman?! You truly don’t respect me!”
He grabbed my hair and ruthlessly kicked me in the chest.
The kick was so heavy that I coughed up blood.
My chest throbbed with excruciating pain, as if my whole body was falling apart.
“Mommy! Mommy!”
My daughter’s heartbreaking screams came from behind me.
Michael didn’t seem satisfied. He turned and slapped my daughter, sending her sprawling onto the ground.
“You little brute! If your mom can’t control you, I’ll teach you a lesson!”
Hearing my child’s cries, my heart twisted with pain.
I struggled to crawl towards her, but Michael stepped on my head, pinning me to the ground.
Novia walked over, hugged my crying daughter, and clamped her hand over Nina’s mouth, forcibly muffling her cries. Nina’s face turned bright red from holding her breath.
“Sister Elma, since you don’t know how to raise a child, making her suffer so much, why don’t you let me take her?”
Michael looked down at me with a cold sneer. “Stop talking nonsense. This woman doesn’t deserve to be a mother. The child belongs to me today. You’ll never see her again.”
His leather shoe pressed down heavily on my back, and he continued with his cruel words: “She can’t even control a child. If this keeps up, this little brat will grow up to be just like you, causing trouble. Might as well get rid of her now.”
“Michael!” I shrieked, suddenly grabbing his ankle, my nails digging into his flesh. I screamed the truth hysterically—
“She’s only three! She’s not your child at all! She’s Richard Bill’s child! And I’m Richard Bill’s wife, the current Mrs. Bill!”
As my voice echoed.
Everyone’s faces instantly changed.
Then, piercing laughter erupted.
“Hahaha, Mr. Dryden, what is this woman spouting? If she’s Mrs. Bill, then I must be the richest person in the world! Are you serious? Is she out of her mind?!”
“What nonsense! Everyone knows Mr. Bill’s wife is a beautiful, elegant woman. This tramp, picking up garbage, thinks she can compare?”
“Yeah, and the Bill family only has one young master. That little girl beside her isn’t even fit to carry Mr. Bill’s son’s shoes.”
Amidst the noisy laughter, Michael grabbed me and yanked me off the ground.
“Elma Pollitt, you really don’t prepare your lies, do you? Someone as high-and-mighty as Richard Bill, do you think he’d even glance at a woman like you, a woman I tossed aside?”
Michael’s eyes were full of contempt, as if I were a piece of dirt on the ground.
“I was actually wondering if you were genuinely remorseful, if I could take you back. But it turns out you’re not only unrepentant, you’re also trying to cling to Mr. Bill. Elma Pollitt, your very essence is worse than this trash. No matter how much you wash, you’re still garbage.”
Before he finished speaking, Michael picked up a nearby garbage can and dumped it over my head.
The putrid smell quickly enveloped me, making me gag.
The surrounding managers pinched their noses and laughed.
“Well done! That’s how you teach people like her a lesson.”
One man offered a suggestion.
“Mr. Dryden, rumor has it that Mr. Bill is extremely protective of his wife. If he knew someone was impersonating his wife, he certainly wouldn’t let her off easily. I know there’s a cold storage nearby. Let’s lock her in there and let Mr. Bill deal with her personally when he arrives. Then our collaboration project will surely be a go.”
Looking at this group of ugly-faced people, my heart filled with hatred.
Michael stared at me and sighed.
“Elma Pollitt, I’m giving you one last chance to apologize. Just kneel down and apologize to Novia in public, and I’ll let you go. Otherwise…”
“You wish!”
Seeing my defiance, Michael’s expression turned completely cold.
He gave a look, and several burly men immediately swarmed me, binding my hands and feet before tossing me into the cold storage.
In the freezing cold storage, below ten degrees Celsius, my entire body quickly became covered in frost.
A strong will to survive made me incessantly bang on the door, desperately scratching at the metal with all my might. My nails were ripped off, exposing raw, bloody flesh.
My daughter cried out for Mommy from outside, only to be slapped several times.
“Who do you call ‘Mommy’? From now on, *I’m* your only mommy! You little thing!”
Seeing Nina continue to cry uncontrollably, Novia simply stuffed a foul-smelling rag into her mouth.
Suddenly, a roaring sound came from a distance. A black Maybach screeched to a halt beside them.
A pair of perfectly tailored long legs stepped onto the ground, and a custom suit outlined the cold, handsome figure of the newcomer.
He was holding a cute little boy in his arms.
In the split second before my consciousness faded, I heard someone shriek:
“Mr. Bill and the young master are here!”
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#MyFiction #B×G #Betrayal #Hurt #Pregnancy #regret
After summer break kicked off, my twin sister, Hazel, announced she was heading out to sea with some “hot shot” she’d met at a club, working as a yacht girl.
I scrolled through my Ins feed and found a post from that exact girl, Nancy.
“Tomorrow, an 18-year-old, fresh-out-of-high-school girl is joining me for a yacht trip. Dark-skinned gentlemen, reserve your spots now!”
In my previous life, I was so worried about Hazel going down the wrong path that I tried everything to stop her.
But she just laughed at me, calling me an old fossil, saying I deserved to be broke my whole life.
I couldn’t control her, so I secretly told our parents.
Hazel was grounded for the entire summer.
But Nancy, that yacht girl, ended up pregnant with the CEO’s child during her gig.
She transformed into a rich socialite overnight, even coming to brag in front of Hazel.
Hazel went absolutely insane with jealousy, convinced I had ruined her chance.
Our parents also came to hate me for losing out on a CEO as a son-in-law.
They stripped me naked, tied me up, and left me on our outdoor balcony, exposed to a scorching 104-degree heat all day.
I died from severe heatstroke, my organs cooked alive inside me.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Hazel said she was going for that gig.
I looked at Hazel, her eyes holding that look of pure, unadulterated stupidity, and I smiled.
This time, I’ll watch you fall, becoming a toy for those “dark-skinned gentlemen” with my own eyes.
*****
“Betty! I was only born three minutes after you, can you stop trying to control my life?!”
Hazel’s furious, humiliated voice made me flinch violently.
My consciousness snapped back. One second ago, I was on that scorching metal balcony where you could fry an egg.
Now, I was in a club, every pore radiating a sense of cool comfort.
I’d actually been reborn!
In my previous life, after seeing Nancy’s post on Ins, I dug through her profile.
That’s when I realized she operated in the gray area as a “yacht girl,” often taking on different groups of clients.
And this time, it was a bunch of rough, dark-skinned men with… specific tastes.
For Hazel’s safety, I tried everything to stop her from getting on that yacht.
For that, she verbally abused me for two months straight.
That hatred reached its peak when Nancy became the CEO’s wife.
Hazel stubbornly believed she was younger and prettier than Nancy,
And if she had taken that yacht girl gig, the CEO would surely have noticed her instead.
She was confused, but my parents were even more clueless.
To punish me, they stripped my clothes and locked me on that metal-plated balcony.
It was 104 degrees Fahrenheit outside, and I was exposed to the sun all day. My internal organs were cooked through.
The agony before my death sent shivers down my spine, making me tremble.
“Hazel, your sister here is a straight-A student, practically drowning in scholarship funds. Of course, she wouldn’t stoop to earning money herself.”
“Let me tell you, if you ditch me this time, finding another gig won’t be so easy.”
Nancy’s words, half sarcastic, half threatening, rang out above my head.
Hazel stamped her foot in anger.
She was already jealous that I got into a top-tier university and received so many scholarships. Hearing that, she panicked.
“Nancy said one yacht gig pays at least ten thousand dollars! You wouldn’t buy me a designer bag, so I’ll earn the money myself, what’s wrong with that?!”
I chuckled as if I’d heard the funniest joke.
Hazel wanted me to give her twenty thousand dollars from my scholarship money to buy a designer bag.
But Mom and Dad had already declared that after college, Hazel would get five thousand a month for living expenses, but I wouldn’t get a single dime.
That twenty thousand in scholarships was my tuition and living expenses.
How could I possibly give it to her for a bag?
My parents had always favored Hazel since we were little, which is why she grew up so vain, superficial, malicious, and selfish.
Now that I had a second chance at life, I wouldn’t interfere with anyone else’s fate again.
Thinking this, I offered Hazel a small smile.
“You’re right, I was too narrow-minded. Go ahead. If you want to earn your own spending money, I really shouldn’t stop you.”
Hazel froze for a moment, then her face lit up with wild joy.
The music in the club was pounding, giving me a headache, so I frowned, wanting to leave.
But as soon as I stood up, Hazel and her little posse of friends pushed me back down onto the booth seat.
A sharp pain shot through my shoulder as she yanked my bag off, pulling out my phone.
Seeing the phone still on the recording interface, her face instantly changed.
“I knew you weren’t that nice! You act all sweet in front of me, but you’re secretly recording me, planning to run home and tell Mom and Dad, aren’t you?!”
I sighed. “You can delete the recording. I promise I won’t tell Mom and Dad.”
In my previous life, I had indeed used that recording to convince Mom and Dad that this job wasn’t legitimate.
That’s why they locked Hazel at home.
But this time, I was determined to just observe, so the recording no longer mattered.
Hazel quickly deleted the recording and was about to hand my phone back when Nancy snatched it away.
“Your sister is so smart. They say a cunning rabbit has three burrows, she probably doesn’t just have one recording device, does she?”
Hazel suddenly understood, pointing at me and cursing, demanding I hand over all recordings.
I was pinned to the seat, trying my best to calmly explain to her.
Hazel turned my bag inside out but didn’t find any other devices.
Nancy smirked, a cold smile playing on her lips. “We have quite a few clients on the yacht who hide tiny cameras on themselves. Could it be…?”
Hazel’s face instantly darkened.
She pounced on me, tearing off my dress.
The little tough girls nearby cheered, pulling out their phones to take pictures.
“Whoa, Hazel, your sister has a banging body!”
Humiliated, I desperately covered myself, an overwhelming sense of shame washing over me.
It wasn’t until I was completely naked that Hazel finally snorted and let me go.
“Hazel, you came to the club to meddle with me, so you brought this humiliation upon yourself!”
I huddled under the table, trying to cover myself with the dress, begging them to let me leave.
Nancy’s gaze lingered on my body, full of meaning, and she suddenly suggested I come along for the yacht gig too.
She hesitated for a rare moment. “But… wouldn’t that be a bit much?”
Nancy flashed a wide smile. “Twin yacht girls as gorgeous as you two? The price would be at least five times higher, you know.”
“Besides, if she comes with us, we can make sure she won’t run back and tell tales, right?”
Hazel was instantly convinced.
Then, under Nancy’s direction, the tough girls force-fed me a large amount of alcohol.
My limbs felt weak from the drunkenness.
Nancy had Hazel and me pose for a set of sexy twin photos.
“If you don’t want your family, friends, or even your future college classmates to see these photos,
You’d better behave tomorrow and perform well, understand?”
That idiot Hazel even seemed a little displeased.
“Nancy! You said I’d be the main attraction tomorrow!”
Nancy casually brushed her off, a hint of disdain in her eyes.
By the time I fully sobered up, it was already late into the night.
Everyone lay sprawled across the sofas, deeply asleep.
Thinking of the consequences of being taken onto that yacht,
I gritted my teeth and knocked over the drinks and scented candles on the table.
The club room was filled with highly flammable items, and the flames quickly turned into billowing smoke.
Security guards rushed in frantically with fire extinguishers.
The moment the room door burst open, I crouched low and dashed out.
Ignoring the roars and piercing screams behind me, I ran like mad, tearing out of the club.
After running for what felt like ages, I finally reached home.
Before my tensed nerves could relax, the living room lights suddenly flickered on.
“Why are you back alone?! Where’s your sister?!”
They seemed oblivious to my disheveled appearance, relentlessly hounding me about Hazel’s whereabouts.
I was just about to speak.
Dad raised his hand and viciously slapped me across the face.
“Don’t tell me your sister met bad people out there!
I’m telling you, Hazel *has* to go out to sea! She’s going to be the CEO’s wife…”
In that instant, I confirmed that Mom and Dad had also been reborn.
They showed no remorse for having caused my death.
All they wanted was to send Hazel off to sea.
Mom quickly nudged Dad’s arm, signaling him not to let slip.
A mix of bitterness and resentment swelled in my heart.
I took a deep breath and insisted I had no idea where Hazel went.
They exchanged confused glances.
The next second, the phone rang.
A strong sense of unease rose within me.
While Dad was on the phone, I quietly began to retreat towards the door.
“What! You’re taking your sister to the gig tomorrow?!”
“No, you can’t take her! You go alone… Dad means that kind of good fortune isn’t for your sister…”
I immediately turned to run.
Unexpectedly, Mom mercilessly kicked me hard in the lower back.
I cried out in pain, clutching my waist as I collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down my face.
After Dad hung up, he whispered a few words to Mom.
Mom immediately turned and fetched a plate of peanuts.
Alarm bells screamed in my head.
“Hazel says if you two sisters go out to sea together, you can make at least fifty thousand dollars.”
“This is such a rare opportunity, you wouldn’t intentionally steal your sister’s thunder, would you?”
Mom’s voice was gentle as she approached me, while Dad flanked me from the other side.
One of them held my body down, the other pried open my mouth, frantically stuffing peanuts into it.
I struggled with all my might. “No! I… I’m allergic to peanuts… I’ll die…!”
By the time I swallowed the last peanut, the final shred of kinship in my heart vanished.
They knew I was deathly allergic to peanuts, which could cause anything from full-body rashes to death.
The allergic reaction hit fast; I could barely breathe.
I desperately clawed at Mom’s pants leg, struggling to speak:
“Why… I’m your daughter too…”
Mom forcefully kicked my leg away, the flash of disgust in her eyes piercing me deeply.
They locked me in the room, refusing to give me medicine or water, no matter how much I begged.
Only when dawn broke did Mom open the door and make me change into a swimsuit.
It wasn’t until I was shoved into the back seat of the car, and Mom and Dad squeezed in after me, that I realized they actually intended to come out to sea with us.
Watching them excitedly fantasize about becoming the CEO’s in-laws,
I couldn’t help but turn my head, a cold sneer playing on my lips.
They still didn’t know that in my past life, Nancy wasn’t actually chosen by the CEO.
She got pregnant after this particular yacht trip, which attracted a group of men with peculiar tastes.
She took on jobs day and night, earning a lot of money, but her body simply couldn’t handle it.
So, she set her sights on Hazel, trying to trick her into working with her again.
My parents and Hazel were so blinded by wealth that they couldn’t even see through such a clumsy lie.
They were still dreaming of becoming the CEO’s wife.
When we got out of the car, Nancy saw me covered in red rashes and frowned deeply.
She furiously slapped Mom.
“Who told you to mess her up like this?!”
“If this ghastly appearance scares off the clients, can you afford to pay for it?!”
“Either fix her, or give me back my money!”
Mom and Dad were stunned by the sudden turn of events.
They stammered for a long time, repeatedly promising that if I took allergy medicine, I’d recover in half an hour.
After much pleading, Nancy finally agreed to let me board the extremely luxurious super yacht.
Dad glanced back at me, saying haughtily,
“You better behave. Once your sister marries the CEO, all this will be ours!”
“Then you can drop out of college and become the CEO’s wife’s nanny. It won’t be that bad for you.”
I nodded, feigning obedience.
About ten minutes later, Nancy walked into the guest cabin to select the first batch of yacht girls.
She looked at my still not fully subsided rashes with disgust and clicked her tongue.
Ultimately, she only took Hazel and eight other young girls.
After they left, only Mom, Dad, and I remained in the guest cabin.
I feigned surprise, pointing at the red wine in the wine cabinet.
“Oh my god, each bottle of red wine in this cabinet is at least five hundred thousand dollars!”
They half-believed me, half-doubted, and spent a long time searching online.
When they discovered I was telling the truth, they excitedly opened the most expensive bottles and chugged them straight from the bottle.
Not long after, both of them were dead drunk.
I quickly got up and left.
I hadn’t gone far when Hazel’s heart-wrenching scream suddenly echoed.
“No! Let me go! Waaah…!”
“It’s too big… it’ll tear…!”
“Nancy, save me! Ahh…!”
Then came a few extremely miserable shrieks.
Followed by Nancy’s nonchalant warning.
“Keep it down, don’t disturb the VIPs upstairs.”
The screams from inside the room instantly died down, replaced by muffled sobs.
Fearing I’d be discovered, I didn’t pause and continued quietly walking towards the upper deck.
In my previous life, I had seen some incredibly revealing comments under Nancy’s Ins post.
“Hope this batch is more durable; they sent a lot of people to the hospital last time.”
“Some guys are kinky, they like older women, can you arrange that too?”
“Treat these dark-skinned bodyguards well, and you’ll be rewarded handsomely.”
Unfortunately, she deleted that post just a few minutes after posting it.
When we boarded, Nancy specifically instructed us to only move around on the yacht’s lower deck and not go to the third floor or higher.
After that, over a dozen dark-skinned men dressed as bodyguards entered the lower deck.
These yacht girls were just “appetizers” to distract the bodyguards.
The real VIPs were on the top deck of the yacht.
Just as I was about to step onto the third floor, I heard Mom’s incoherent cries for help from below, along with the lewd laughter of men with exaggerated accents.
I didn’t look back and continued upward.
I just wanted to find a safe place to hide until the ship docked, then leave.
But the moment I stepped onto the third deck, the scene before me nearly scared me out of my wits:
A tall man raised a pistol at another person.
“Bang,” the suppressed gunshot was barely a whisper, and the man dropped.
“Bang,” a second shot, and a bullet whizzed past my arm.
I instantly froze, my limbs rigid with terror.
The man who fired the gun was none other than Mike Peter, the CEO!
The true owner of this yacht!
Oh no, am I about to be silenced…?
But when Mike Peter saw my face clearly, his pupils instantly dilated.
He staggered and lunged towards me.
I was already rigid with fear, so he just turned my head, revealing the red mole behind my ear.
After a long moment, he embraced me, tears streaming down his face.
“I’m so sorry, daughter, Dad scared you…”
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#MyFiction #Rebirth #FamilyDrama #FalseIdentity #Revenge #PoortoRich
My husband indulged his protégée hacker, Chloe, allowing her to manipulate my life for “practice.”
The first time, our smart home system went haywire in the dead of night, blaring alarms and lights, terrifying me into a hospital bed.
The second time, it was a private video looping on screens during a crucial meeting, making me internet infamous.
And this time, she remotely hijacked my smart car, orchestrating a horrific crash on the freeway.
Lying in the ICU, covered in my own blood, I heard Julian, my husband, calmly explain as he “fixed” the system:
“Don’t hate Chloe, darling. She’s just a bit childish, trying to prove she’s as brilliant as me. You know how these bright young talents are.”
“She knows that no matter what happens, I’ll always save you – it’s just a game that got a little out of hand.”
Before he could finish, an encrypted call pulled him away.
But I saw his unsaved logs on the tablet. They clearly showed he’d known about allof Chloe’s attacks. He hadn’t just ‘condoned’ this sick ‘game’; he’d encouraged it, pushing her to ‘level up’ her skills.
What he didn’t know was that his recent “fix” had just activated the ultimate command I’d buried deep within his network. In a week, his digital empire would crumble.
“I’ve already had a word with her. Anyway, you’ve always been so understanding, you won’t hold it against her, right? Just tell me what gift you want, anything, as my apology for her.”
Julian returned quickly, taking the soup bowl naturally to feed me, but his words were all for Chloe.
I forced a smile.
They’d issued a ‘critical condition’ notice, for God’s sake, and he expected me to be ‘magnanimous’?
“No need to make her feel bad, and no need for you to apologize.”
Julian immediately brightened. “Oh, I have to tell her! Chloe’s been so wracked with guilt since your accident, she hasn’t eaten a thing. She’s lost weight.”
I looked into his eyes, eyes that once held only me.
He’d told me about his new protégée, Chloe, who resembled his late sister, taken too soon. He’d poured all his unresolved grief and protectiveness into her.
I wanted to protect his solace, so I gave way, again and again. I just didn’t know at what point things went so wrong, leading us to this.
Julian continued typing away, oblivious, his SnapChat avatar a photo of him and Chloe.
Looking at him now, I felt sick. I found an excuse to send him away.
Julian left happily, not even bothering to pick me up when I was discharged.
Scrolling through my feed on the couch, I saw it—the conference video, twisted and vile, with doctored images of me plastered everywhere, fueling the most disgusting jokes.
My fingertips trembled as I scrolled past the vile comments, blood rushing to my head.
It was like the ghost of my younger self, Eleanor, was screaming at me: “Are you really going to just takethis?”
I slammed my phone down, my nails digging into my palms.
Silence? Tolerance?
Never again.
I opened Ins, my fingers flying across the keyboard.
“The so-called ‘private video’ is an absolute fabrication! I strongly condemn this hacker attack and will pursue all legal remedies!”
I paused, then typed his name.
“Furthermore, I demand answers from @JulianInc_CyberSecurityOfficer. How exactly has your company’s system security become so utterly useless? Or is someone acting with malicious intent?”
Seconds after I hit ‘post,’ my phone exploded with calls, ringing like a death knell.
I stared at “Julian” flashing on the screen, took a deep breath, and answered.
“The company’s stock just dropped three points because of your post,” his voice was laced with fury. “Family business stays in the family. Do I need to teach you that?”
“Family business?” I almost laughed. “Julian, this is a crime! I’m not the one acting out here!”
“Chloe’s already promised to stop. Can’t you just let it go? Do you really have to make this public knowledge?”
“Our PR team will issue a statement saying your account was hacked. Understand?”
He hung up, adding one last thing: “Don’t cause any more trouble for a while. Avoid the press.”
I listened to the dial tone, my heart aching.
He used to hold meon a pedestal.
We’d been cyber prodigies, equals from childhood. But Julian had grand visions of an empire, a ‘champion’ to build it. So, I stepped back, deliberately creating openings, handing him the crown I could have worn.
His eyes shone back then. I thought that was ourfuture.
Now, he sat on his throne, basking in the spotlight, seemingly having forgotten the one who stood beside him, who even gave upher own glory for him.
True feelings truly are fleeting.
Julian came home for dinner, Chloe trailing behind him.
He placed a Tiffany blue box in front of me, his voice soft. “Eleanor, the necklace you always wanted.”
He took out the diamond necklace that had mesmerized me at an auction, fastening it around my neck himself. “I only think of Chloe as my little sister. Don’t overthink things, and don’t be so confrontational with her.”
Chloe tugged lightly at Julian’s sleeve, her eyes urging him on.
Julian produced a brand-new smart bracelet. “This is the company’s latest health monitoring bracelet. It monitors your heart rate, blood pressure, and even emotional metrics in real-time, connecting to our central database. That way, we can look after you better.”
I recoiled. It was nothing less than a 24-hour digital shackle.
“I don’t need it! My health status is my private information!”
Chloe chuckled softly. “Oh, Eleanor, what’s privacy compared to your health? Brother Julian is just worried about you. Besides, your smart home and car systems are already connected to our network, aren’t they? What’s one more bracelet?”
Julian frowned. “Don’t be childish. This is for your own good. Your little ‘episode’ at the meeting? Clearly an issue with emotional regulation, darling. Wear it, the data will tell us when you need help.”
He took a step forward, reaching to grab my wrist, intending to force it on me.
I struggled, pulling away. “Julian! This is surveillance! I’m not your prisoner!”
“Why do you always twist goodwill into malice?” He seemed to lose patience, his grip tightening.
Chloe quickly tapped on her tablet.
Instantly, the bracelet shrieked with a piercing alarm!
“See! Your emotions are unstable again! The system’s even alerting us!”
Hearing that, Julian pressed down on me harder.
“It’s not me! She’s controlling it!” I screamed, pointing at Chloe, but Julian wouldn’t listen.
Just then, the smart console cabinet in the hallway suddenly popped open, crashing hard into my shin!
I stumbled, crying out in pain, instinctively reaching for the nearby smart curtain track to steady myself.
Chloe’s lips curled into a cold smirk, her finger swiping on the tablet.
The slow-moving curtain track suddenly accelerated, retracting with a sharp clack! My fingers were caught in the mechanical gap, sending a searing pain through me!
At the same time, losing my balance, I was about to crash into the glass display cabinet beside me!
“Eleanor, what are you doing!” Julian spun around, roughly shoving me away, pulling Chloe tightly into his arms.
“You scared Chloe!”
I, with no one to catch me, was thrown by the curtain track’s momentum, my forehead slamming against the cabinet corner.
Warm blood trickled down my temple. I huddled on the cold floor, looking up to see Julian anxiously checking if Chloe was startled, his face etched with concern.
He didn’t even glance down at me.
“Brother Julian, I’m fine. Please, check on Eleanor.”
Chloe leaned weakly into his embrace, but her eyes met mine over his shoulder, a clear, icy smirk playing on her lips.
Julian finally looked at me, his eyes filled with nothing but disappointment and impatience.
“Eleanor, do you haveto make such a scene! Self-harm? Smashing things? You’ve truly disappointed me!”
He carefully picked Chloe up and instructed the housekeeper.
“Take her back to her room. And until I say so, she’s not to touch any smart devices! And jam any internet signal up here!”
I was too numb with pain to speak, only watching them leave.
The attic door locked with a heavy thud behind me.
Darkness enveloped me, only moonlight casting a pale patch on the floor. This used to be our first ‘lab,’ the walls still bearing the graffiti we’d drawn together – two intertwined ‘J’ and ‘E’s – for Julian and Eleanor.
Now, for someone else, he had locked me in our past.
Chloe reappeared three days later.
I’d been starved for three days, curled on the floor.
Chloe whispered into my ear, “All I had to do was lie, say I wanted to study data recovery, and Brother Julian handed over your mother’s USB drive without a second thought.”
She dangled the USB drive, letting out a mocking laugh.
I used all my strength to snatch it, but Chloe feigned a stumble backward.
“Brother Julian! I told you this thing shouldn’t be kept! Look how scary Eleanor is now!”
Julian caught Chloe, then looked at me with cold eyes.
“Chloe’s right. It’s these sad memories that are making you so extreme.”
I stared at the laptop in his hands, my voice trembling. “What are you doing!”
Julian approached, his voice like a doctor soothing a patient. “We need to help you move on.”
Chloe stood behind him, purring like a smug cat.
“Brother Julian is doing this for your own good,” she murmured. “Those sad memories, they shouldn’t be kept.”
“No—” I lunged for the computer, but Julian caught me in an iron grip.
His arms were like steel clamps around me. “It’ll be over soon, Eleanor.”
Chloe’s fingers danced across the keyboard. “Brother Julian, the original files and backups are all found. Should I format and shred them completely?”
Julian paused, then nodded. “Make it clean.”
The progress bar began to move.
Ten percent, thirty percent, seventy percent… I watched my mother’s smiling photos disappear from the screen, piece by piece, until it was all blank.
“Those were the last things my mom left me!!” I shrieked, struggling to break free, but Julian held me fast.
The arms that once sheltered me from storms were now the strongest chains.
He spoke earnestly, as if comforting a child: “Once the data is gone, I’ll help you create new memories. People can’t live in the past forever. We’re just trying to help you.”
“Help me?” I laughed, tears welling up. “Julian, you know what that data meant to me!”
“Precisely why I can’t let you keep living in the past.” His tone suddenly hardened. “Chloe’s right. You’re too extreme lately. You need a clean break.”
Overwhelmed by grief and rage, I grabbed a crystal ornament from the table and hurled it at the wall.
Shards flew everywhere, and I accidentally scratched Chloe, who tried to “comfort” me.
She let out a sharp gasp, crumbling to the floor, clutching her face and sobbing. “Brother Julian, it hurts so much! I was just trying to help!”
Julian kicked me away, rushing to check Chloe’s injuries.
“Eleanor, you’re absolutely insane!” he yelled, turning to me. “It seems you haven’t reflected enough!”
“When you’ve come to your senses, then you can come out!”
The attic door was locked again.
This time, even the windows were sealed shut by blackout curtains.
In the complete darkness and silence, all love and hate burned away, leaving only cold despair.
My fingers unconsciously traced a loose floorboard – our old snack hiding spot.
I carefully pried it open. Inside, a worn USB drive and a laptop lay quietly.
It was a backdoor tool we’d designed together when we first started our company, capable of silently accessing core systems. Julian had laughed then, saying, “This is our last resort, our secret weapon. Only you and I know about it.”
Now, it seemed he had long forgotten.
But I remembered.
I inserted the USB drive into the laptop, and the screen glowed with an eerie blue light. Fingerprint authentication passed. The low-level destruction interface slowly unfolded.
“Confirm initiation of destruction protocol?” The system prompt flashed.
My finger hovered over the enter key. My mom’s smiling face flashed through my mind.
Then I pressed it, decisively.
“Protocol initiated. Countdown: 168 hours.”
The system prompt silently flashed, then automatically cleared all traces.
When Chloe detected an abnormal access alert and rushed back with Julian, the USB drive was already back in its original hiding place.
I curled up in the corner, feigning weakness.
They thoroughly checked the entire system, finding nothing but that ordinary USB drive.
“Stop doing useless things.” Julian warned coldly, tossing the USB drive back to me.
As they left, neither of them noticed the faint vibrations from beneath the floorboards.
The destruction had begun. Irreversible.
I was confined to this small attic, as if forgotten.
Only endless darkness remained, terrifying, maddening.
Days later, Julian and Chloe pushed open the door together.
“Eleanor,” Julian handed me a new agreement. “Traditional therapy isn’t working, so we’re trying ‘mind therapy.’ Chloe has really put a lot of thought into this for you.”
I glimpsed the terms on the agreement; the fine print read: “Mental disorder due to excessive dwelling on the past.”
“Julian,” my voice was hoarse. “Using your most trusted logic, tell me, is locking me in a VR pod really called ‘therapy’?”
“You let her set fires, but you held me back from putting them out, and now you’re saying I’mthe sick one, is that it?”
Chloe suddenly started sobbing. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have suggested using VR to help Eleanor face reality…”
“After all, anything I suggest, Eleanor naturally doubts.”
“But Eleanor, I’m truly thinking of you. How can I make you believe me? Should I prove it with my life?”
She made a move to bang her head against the wall.
Julian flew forward, grabbing her, then turned to me with a cold voice. “Don’t betray Chloe’s good intentions. Sign it.”
Seeing my resistance, he gestured to the housekeeper. Two men stepped forward and pinned me down, one of them forcibly prying my fingers open—
The searing pain made my vision go black, but I bit my lip, refusing to cry out.
My crimson handprint stained the agreement, like a grotesque scar.
I was led into a stark white VR therapy room.
Julian himself placed the helmet on me, a strange anticipation on his face.
Darkness descended.
Then blinding headlights flashed! My mother’s terrified face appeared in front of the car—
“No!!” I screamed, but I couldn’t move.
The car crash replayed again and again, from cruel angles, slowing down my mother’s final moments of agony.
Chloe had even synthesized my mother’s cries, calling my name: “Eleanor—why didn’t you save me—”
“Stop… stop it!” I thrashed wildly in the pod, tears soaking the helmet’s lining.
Outside, Julian watched my wildly fluctuating physiological data on the monitor, his brows furrowed. “Her reaction is too strong. Should we stop?”
“This means the therapy is working!” Chloe said urgently, her fingers discreetly cranking the pain level to maximum. “She’s confronting her deepest trauma! Stopping now would only harm her!”
Julian looked at the data, eventually nodding heavily. “…Continue.”
Inside the pod, I was curled up in agony, each crash sounding like it was crushing my bones.
“Julian… please…” I pleaded weakly. “Make her stop…”
But he, separated by the pod’s shell, softly reassured me: “Just bear it, Eleanor. Getting over grief always involves pain.”
His words hit me like a sledgehammer, making me completely collapse, plunging into boundless darkness.
In a daze, I vaguely heard Julian’s assistant frantically shout.
“Mr. Julian! Our system is locked out! The core program is self-destructing!!”
“Mr. Julian! All… all nodes are simultaneously offline! The backup system won’t activate! The underlying commands… they seem to be self-deleting!”
“What?!” Julian’s face contorted. He completely ignored me, still unconscious in the pod, and rushed over, snatching the tablet.
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I followed a comfort streamer on a sleep aid app. He never showed his face, But his voice was soft. .
Every night, I’d fall asleep listening to his live streams.
We’d even planned to attend his offline fan meet-and-greet.
One day, my best friend, Brooke, dragged me to a boxing gym to try it out.
That’s where I met her cousin, Asher, who worked as a sparring partner.
The guy was all rippling muscles, with an intense, almost menacing gaze. He was pounding a punching bag, radiating raw, masculine energy.
I accidentally slipped, crashing straight into him and knocking the water bottle he’d just opened right out of his hand.
He frowned, growling, “Hey, back off, you’re costing me money!”
I quickly apologized. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly and rough as sandpaper, clearly from too much smoking and drinking.
But then he took a call, lowering his voice to soothe the person on the other end, and that tone… it was identical to the streamer I adored.
I froze on the spot.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!”
I scrambled off him, fumbling to pick up the spilled water bottle.
Water was everywhere, soaking his black workout pants.
His name was Asher Vance, and he was my best friend Brooke Miller’s cousin.
Brooke grabbed my arm, grinning as she introduced me. “Asher, this is my best friend, Chloe Sterling. Don’t be such a brute, you’ll scare her.”
Asher shot me a glance, full of impatience, and grunted a greeting from deep in his throat.
He bent to pick up a towel next to the punching bag, wiping sweat from his forehead. The line of his neck was incredibly sexy.
But his face, though handsome, was cold.
Brooke tried to smooth things over. “Don’t mind him, Chloe. My cousin just has a terrible temper, but he’s not a bad guy.”
I shook my head, indicating it was fine.
But my mind was racing.
That phone call just now, especially that lowered “Shhh, easy there, I’ll be back soon,”—that gentle, magnetic, almost breathy murmur.
It was exactly the same as Whisperwind, the sleep aid streamer I listened to every night.
But how could that be possible?
Whisperwind was the ultimate gentle male idol, kind, patient, who would read poetry in the dead of night and softly answer fans’ emotional questions.
And the Asher Vance standing before me? Volatile, aggressive.
It was the ultimate expectation versus reality clash. No, they were entirely different species.
My mind went blank. I didn’t hear anything else Brooke said.
Not until Asher came out of the changing room, bag in hand, ready to leave.
He paused as he passed me, turning his head. Those dark eyes locked onto mine, and his voice was back to that sandpaper roughness.
“Seen enough?”
I snapped back to reality, my cheeks instantly flushing.
Brooke quickly pulled me behind her, shouting at Asher’s retreating back, “Asher! Be polite!”
Asher didn’t look back, just waved a hand dismissively and walked out of the gym.
“Don’t mind him,” Brooke patted my back. “He’s totally nuts.”
I watched the direction he disappeared in, that absurd thought in my mind refusing to be suppressed.
That night, I lay in bed, headphones on, and opened Whisperwind’s profile.
Today’s live stream topic was “Tell us the most incredible thing that’s happened to you.”
Driven by an impulse, I posted a comment: “I think I’ve discovered a huge secret, about someone I thought I knew well.”
Almost instantly, Whisperwind’s voice came through my headphones, accompanied by his familiar gentle chuckle.
“Oh? Our friend ‘Night Wind Rushes In,’ what secret have you uncovered? Care to share?”
My heart skipped a beat.
‘Night Wind Rushes In’ was my ID on the app.
When he read out my ID, his voice lifted slightly at the end, a playful intimacy in his tone.
My fingers trembled as I typed a reply: “I found that someone whose voice is like an angel’s might be a devil in real life.”
The comment section instantly exploded.
“OMG! Spill the tea, sis!”
“What’s happening? Is the streamer being exposed?”
“Chloe, do you know something?”
Whisperwind chuckled softly, his voice caressing my eardrums through the current.
“It seems our friend here had quite a shock today. But people are multi-faceted, aren’t they? Perhaps what you’ve seen is just one part of him.”
His words were perfectly crafted, giving nothing away.
It was as if he was defending “himself,” yet also comforting a regular fan.
I turned off my phone, spending a sleepless night.
The next day, Brooke invited me to go shopping, saying she wanted to make it up to me.
“My cousin was such a jerk yesterday, I have to compensate you.” She pulled me into a luxury boutique.
My mind was elsewhere, filled with Asher and Whisperwind.
Brooke, however, was in high spirits, holding up a bag to me. “Chloe, this suits you. My treat.”
I quickly refused. “No, it’s too expensive.”
“Don’t be silly with me!” Brooke handed her card to the sales assistant. “What are friends for?”
Just then, her phone rang.
Brooke answered, her tone instantly switching to a mix of exasperation and affection. “Hello? What now, Your Majesty?”
Whatever the person on the other end said, Brooke’s brows furrowed.
“Out of money? Didn’t you just yesterday…”
“Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll transfer it to you in a bit. You’re a grown man, you should know how to manage your money.”
She hung up, complaining to me, “My cousin, Asher, blew all his money again. All he does is beg for cash, I’m practically his ATM.”
My heart stirred. I asked, pretending casual interest, “Is he really that hard up for money? I thought being a sparring partner paid well.”
Brooke pouted. “What’s that little bit of money going to do? He’s always buying gear, treating people to dinner, he’s used to spending lavishly. If my parents weren’t holding me back, I’d have cut off his card ages ago.”
As she spoke, she showed me a screenshot of the transfer.
I saw that the recipient’s profile picture was gray, and the nickname was a simple “H.”
My grip tightened on my phone.
In Whisperwind’s fan group, the administrator’s username was “H.”
Whisperwind had said it was the abbreviation of his name.
The clues slowly connected, and my heart sank with each realization.
If Asher was Whisperwind, then why was he doing this?
One person playing a gentle male god online, comforting countless girls; the other, an aggressive, moody man in reality, living off his cousin.
What was his motive? Money? Whisperwind’s live stream donations and paid content certainly brought in a considerable income.
But why would he pretend to be broke in front of Brooke?
I decided to test him one more time.
That weekend, Whisperwind’s offline fan meet-and-greet took place as scheduled.
The venue was a small concert hall, with strict security, requiring ID and phone number verification for entry.
Brooke had a last-minute commitment and couldn’t accompany me.
I walked into the hall, which was already filled with people, mostly young women, their faces alight with anticipation and excitement.
The stage was dimly lit, with only a high stool and a standing microphone placed in the center.
Whisperwind maintained his no-face policy even offline.
After the host warmed up the crowd, the hall lights dimmed, and a single spotlight shone on the stage center.
That familiar, gentle voice, amplified through the speakers, reached everyone’s ears clearly.
“Hello, everyone. I am Whisperwind. Thank you for coming tonight, for me.”
A wave of excited screams erupted from the audience.
I sat in a corner, my heart pounding.
He began interacting with fans, answering pre-collected questions.
One fan asked, “Whisperwind, what are you like in real life? Are you just as gentle?”
Whisperwind chuckled, a hint of mystery in his tone.
“Perhaps. But I hope you like my voice more than you like me, the person.”
“Everyone wears a mask, don’t they?”
At that moment, I took out my phone and sent Brooke a SnapChat message.
“Brooke, my stomach feels a bit off, I’m in the restroom. Can you ask your cousin to pick me up? My phone’s almost out of battery.”
Brooke replied quickly: “What’s going on with you? Fine, I’ll tell him to go. Send him the address.”
I sent her the concert hall address.
Then, I looked up, my gaze fixed intently on the blurry figure on stage.
Next up, was the moment of truth.
About twenty minutes later, my phone vibrated.
It was a text from an unknown number.
“Where?”
Two words, concise, cold, and dripping with impatience.
It was Asher.
I replied: “Backstage entrance.”
Then, I stood up and quietly slipped out through a side door, making my way to the back of the concert hall.
Two security guards stood at the backstage entrance. I hid in the shadows nearby.
Not long after, a tall figure appeared under the streetlight.
Black hoodie, jeans, baseball cap pulled low—it was Asher.
He walked up to the backstage entrance and was stopped by the guards.
“Sir, you can’t enter here.”
Asher looked up, revealing an annoyed expression. “I’m looking for someone.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, a woman named Chloe Sterling.”
Just then, a commotion erupted from the stage direction; it seemed to be intermission.
A staff member rushed out of the backstage door. The door wasn’t closed properly, leaving a gap.
From my angle, I could just see a corner of the interior.
And I could hear the voice coming from the stage through the microphone.
It was Whisperwind, talking to staff, arranging the content for the second half.
That voice, so gentle it could melt your worries away, and the impatient, gravelly voice at the door, existed in the same space simultaneously.
My mind buzzed.
It wasn’t him?
Had I made a mistake?
Asher was still arguing with the security guards, looking increasingly frustrated.
He pulled out his phone, seemingly preparing to call me.
Just then, a man in a work uniform emerged from backstage. He saw Asher, paused, then exclaimed happily, “Asher? What are you doing here!”
Asher seemed surprised to see him too. “Jayden? What are you doing here?”
“I’m working part-time here,” the man named Jayden pointed inside. “There’s an event today, and they’re short-staffed.”
He enthusiastically pulled Asher. “Since you’re here, come on in and sit down, I’ll get you a good seat.”
Asher frowned. “No thanks, I’m just here to pick someone up.”
“Who are you picking up? I can call them for you.”
“Chloe Sterling.”
Jayden slapped his thigh. “Oh, I know her! Brooke’s friend, right? She knows our boss, she’s in the VIP lounge.”
With that, he pulled Asher inside without another word.
“Follow me.”
The security guards, seeing it was a staff member, didn’t stop them.
I watched them disappear behind the door, completely frozen.
The boss?
Whisperwind was the boss here?
So, Jayden knew Asher, and he knew me.
Everything was messed up.
My clever little test… had turned into a total bust.
I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone, and prepared to call Brooke, to tell her not to send Asher to pick me up.
Just then, my phone vibrated again.
Still that unknown number.
“Are you playing games with me?”
The cold accusation, the anger palpable even through the screen.
I was stunned.
Why would Asher say that?
Hadn’t Jayden pulled him inside?
I was about to reply when a new text came in.
“VIP lounge. You better have an explanation for me.”
My heart sank sharply.
He knew.
He knew I was testing him.
I gripped my phone, hesitating whether to go in.
Going in meant a potentially humiliating confrontation.
Not going in meant the mystery in my heart would forever remain unsolved.
As an internal battle raged inside me, the backstage door suddenly opened.
Brooke stood at the entrance, her face pale. Seeing me, she forced a smile.
“Chloe, there you are, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
I looked at her. “What are you doing here?”
“I was worried about you,” she walked over and naturally linked her arm through mine. “Come on, the meet-and-greet is almost over, I’ll take you home.”
I saw the evasiveness in her eyes, and the suspicion I had tried to suppress flared up wildly again.
She definitely knew something.
On the drive home, Brooke kept making small talk.
“How was the meet-and-greet today? Isn’t Whisperwind absolutely charming?”
“Did you see him in person? Is he super handsome?”
I leaned against the car window, watching the rapidly passing night scenery outside, and simply hummed in response.
Brooke seemed a little awkward and fell silent.
The temperature in the car plummeted, freezing the air between us.
As we neared my apartment building, I suddenly spoke. “Brooke, are you very close with Whisperwind?”
Brooke’s hand on the steering wheel tightened abruptly, making the car swerve slightly.
She quickly regained control, forcing a dry laugh. “Why… why would you ask that? I just heard you talk about him so much, I got a little curious.”
“Really?” I turned my head, looking straight at her. “That staff member, Jayden, just said that I know your boss.”
“When did I ever get to know your boss?”
Her face went stark white in a flash.
Her eyes darted around, her lips moved a few times, but not a single word came out.
“The boss he mentioned, that’s Whisperwind, right?” I pressed her further, step by step.
“And you, you don’t just know him, you know him well. Well enough to freely go backstage, well enough for your cousin to be directly ushered into his VIP lounge.”
“Brooke, what exactly are you hiding from me?”
Brooke pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned off the engine.
The car interior was plunged into silence, broken only by our increasingly ragged breathing.
After a long moment, she spoke, her voice hoarse.
“Chloe, I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t mean to lie to you.”
“Asher… he really is Whisperwind.”
Even though I had prepared myself, hearing her admit it made my heart ache to the point of suffocation.
So, it wasn’t a misunderstanding.
My intuition had been right all along.
Then who was that gentle voice backstage?
“It was a voice changer,” Brooke said softly, as if seeing through my confusion. “And his team, they help him handle some of the live interactions.”
“So, he just needs to sit backstage, in front of a computer, and use a processed voice to pull off a perfect meet-and-greet.”
A bitter laugh escaped me, tears pricking at my eyes.
What a grand, elaborate scam.
And I, like a total idiot, had been utterly swept off my feet by him.
“Why?” I looked at Brooke, asking each word slowly. “Why would you do this?”
“It… it was for money.” Brooke couldn’t meet my gaze. “Asher needed money. Being a streamer is fast money, but his own voice… it wasn’t suitable.”
“So you came up with this plan? To have him play a fictional persona, to swindle fans out of their donations and their emotions?”
“I didn’t!” Brooke retorted, agitated. “I just wanted to help him! I never thought you’d fall so deeply!”
“Really?” I scoffed. “You never thought? Then why did you introduce him to me? Why did you play matchmaker between us? Was it fun, watching me get played like a fool by you?”
Brooke was speechless, her eyes instantly welling up with tears.
“Chloe, I truly never meant to hurt you. I just… I was just jealous of you.”
She finally confessed.
“I was jealous you have everything. A privileged family background, loving parents, never worrying about money. And me? I have to fight for everything, claw for everything. And I’m stuck with a dead weight like Asher!”
“When I saw how infatuated you were with Whisperwind, I admit, there was a tiny part of me that felt unbalanced. I wanted to see what your reaction would be if you found out your idol, your beloved male god, was actually my useless cousin.”
“I just wanted to play a joke on you, I never thought it would turn out like this!”
So that was it.
The best friend I had poured my heart out to had been calculating from the start.
The comfort I found in the dead of night was all her carefully designed poison.
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My son was dying.
My husband, Julian Thorne, was busy preparing for the bell-ringing ceremony for his corporation’s IPO.
He told me, “A sick heir will only drag down the stock price.”
Then, he handed me divorce papers and a card.
“Forget about the company, and forget about me. This money is enough for you to cover his final arrangements.”
Five years later, at the press conference for his new wife’s prenatal check-up, he spoke as the perfect loving husband.
“I’m truly fortunate. My family is, and always will be, healthy and complete.”
Under the paparazzi’s flashing lights, he spotted my arms, riddled with needle marks.
He cornered me in the hallway. “What, ran out of money? Looking to bring that sickly brat back to me for more?”
Julian’s voice was arctic, sharp as shattered glass.
I pulled a sheet of paper from my folder.
“Leo’s hospital bill is due again.”
He snatched the bill, his eyes scanning the numbers.
Then, right in front of me, he slowly, deliberately, tore it into tiny shreds.
The paper confetti rained down on my face, my clothes, like falling snow.
“Stella, you’re pushing my limits.”
He pulled a black card from his jacket pocket and tossed it to the ground.
Metal met tile with a sharp *clink*.
“Pick it up.”
His voice was low, but the command was undeniable, absolute.
“Crawl and pick it up, like the dog you are.”
I stood my ground, unmoving.
“Oh, suddenly you’re too good for it? Five years ago, you’d have sold your own son for a fraction of that. What’s with the act now?”
A soft female voice floated from behind him.
“Julian, don’t be angry. It’s not good for the baby.”
Chloe Sterling walked over, her hand gently caressing her rounded belly, taking her place beside Julian.
She looked at me, a polite smile on her face, but her words were a viper’s venom.
“Miss Hayes, the Thorne bloodline demands perfection.”
She glanced down at her stomach.
“Like our child. Healthy. Exceptional.”
“A defective product, a flaw like that, doesn’t deserve to carry the Thorne name. Do you understand?”
Julian wrapped an arm around Chloe’s shoulder, pulling her close, protecting her.
“This is my final warning.”
His voice was devoid of all warmth.
“Dare to show your face to my family again, and I’ll make sure you and your son vanish from this world, completely.”
I didn’t spare them another glance. I turned and walked away.
Back in the lab, the cold hum of machines and the rhythmic dance of data made me feel alive again.
I peeled off my lab coat, expertly drew a vial of my own blood.
The centrifuge whirred, spinning at high speed.
I dripped the separated serum into a petri dish, observing the cellular changes under the microscope.
Leo’s rare genetic disease has an incidence of one in a billion.
My family, the Hayes, had no history of genetic illness.
The source of the disease – I’d been searching for five years.
My mentor, Professor Davies, walked in.
He was a world-renowned expert in genetic engineering.
“Stella, how’s the data analysis coming along?”
“Still no good. The ‘Ouroboros’ sequence can’t achieve precise integration at the third locus. The cells just collapse.”
I handed him the latest data report.
Professor Davies’s brows furrowed.
“We’ve hit a wall.”
He looked at me.
“To break through this, we need two things.”
“A huge amount of money, and a ‘Prometheus’ gene sequencer.”
“There are only three of those machines in the entire world.”
I fell silent.
I knew, I couldn’t get either of those.
“Don’t lose hope,” Professor Davies patted my shoulder. “I’ve been in talks with an investor recently. He’s very interested in biological projects. There might be a chance.”
That evening, while organizing my files, I stumbled upon a financial news notification.
\[Thorne Corporation Invests Heavily in New Biotech Ventures, CEO Julian Thorne Personally Invites Gene Engineering Titan Professor Davies to Join]
The accompanying photo showed Julian Thorne, radiating success and triumph.
And Professor Davies was my mentor, Professor Davies.
Julian Thorne hosted a private investment gala for Professor Davies at the penthouse suite of the exclusive Skytop Club.
Security was tight. The attendees were the movers and shakers of the industry, people whose names alone commanded fortunes.
I arrived at the entrance, dressed in my lab coat, with a plain black trench coat over it, carrying project documents as Professor Davies’ assistant.
The attendant at the door held out a hand to stop me.
“Madam, your invitation.”
I stated my name: “Professor Davies’ assistant, Stella Hayes.”
He spoke a few words into his earpiece, then stepped aside.
The crystal chandeliers in the ballroom made me squint.
Julian Thorne was conversing with someone, standing right in the center of the crowd.
He saw me too.
His hand, holding a wine glass, froze. The smile vanished from his face.
His jaw clenched, and his lips silently formed a single word: *Get out*.
I ignored him, pushing through the crowd until I reached Professor Davies.
“Professor, the supplementary data for the ‘Ouroboros’ project.”
I handed him the folder.
Suddenly, a figure bumped into me. A glass of red wine came crashing down, spilling all over my folder.
The crimson liquid bloomed, smearing the charts and data into an unrecognizable mess.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!”
Chloe Sterling held up her empty wine glass, her apology on her lips, but not an ounce of genuine regret on her face.
“I didn’t see you standing there. Why don’t you watch where you’re going?”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but several people nearby paused their conversations and looked over.
“Julian’s gala is so important. Why would you bring such things in here? What if something goes wrong? Are you trying to cause trouble on purpose?”
Julian strode over in a few swift steps. He didn’t even look at me, barking orders directly to the security guard behind him.
“Get her out of here.”
His voice was barely a whisper, each word squeezed through gritted teeth.
“I don’t want to see anyone irrelevant at *my* gala.”
Two security guards stepped forward, reaching for my arms.
“Mr. Thorne, quite the display of power.”
Professor Davies spoke, his voice calm, yet it made the two guards freeze.
He walked over, positioning himself in front of me.
“You’re trying to throw out *my* person?”
Julian’s face was ashen. “Professor Davies, this is my personal business. She…”
“She is not your personal business.”
Professor Davies cut him off.
“Allow me to introduce her to you, and to everyone here.”
Professor Davies turned, facing the assembled guests.
“This is Stella Hayes.”
“My most brilliant student, and the lead researcher for the ‘Ouroboros’ gene repair project.”
The entire ballroom fell into a stunned silence.
All eyes converged on me.
I saw Julian’s body stiffen, his face a canvas of undisguised shock.
He probably never imagined that the woman who, five years ago, was just a housewife, confined to domestic chores, would stand before him again in such a powerful new role.
I didn’t acknowledge his shock, nor Chloe’s ashen face, drained of all color.
From my backpack, I pulled out another folder, identical in appearance to the one that had been drenched.
“My apologies for the delay, everyone.”
Ignoring everyone else, I walked directly to the projection screen and plugged my USB drive into the computer.
“My project is called ‘Ouroboros’.”
“Its goal is to repair human genetic defects through gene editing technology.”
I skipped any unnecessary background, moving straight into the technical principles, clinical applications, and the commercial value it could generate, detailing each point.
As I reached the core technical aspect, I pressed the clicker, and a molecular structure appeared on the screen.
“…We have constructed a new protein vector that can precisely target and repair the abnormal gene segment code-named ‘Thanatos’…”
When I uttered the word “Thanatos,” my gaze swept over Julian Thorne.
His hand, holding the wine glass, trembled. His entire body froze, his face completely drained of blood.
The gala ended.
Professor Davies, in front of everyone, walked to my side and shook my hand.
Then, he turned to Julian Thorne.
“Mr. Thorne, your project concept is admirable, but Thorne Corporation’s direction doesn’t align with my research. There’s no need to discuss collaboration further.”
He had publicly rejected Julian Thorne.
Next, he turned to me, his voice filled with praise.
“However, Stella, I will personally invest two hundred million dollars in your ‘Ouroboros’ project.”
It was late when I returned to the lab.
The first thing I did was open the encrypted computer on my desk, ready to back up the core data.
I entered the password and clicked on the folder.
Empty.
All the files were gone.
I stared at the blank screen, my hands and feet growing numb.
Alarms blared throughout the lab.
Professor Davies was the first to burst in, his face even paler than mine.
“What happened?!”
I pointed at the blank computer screen.
“The core data… it’s all gone.”
Security quickly sealed off the area.
After an overnight investigation, the conclusion was clear.
“No external intrusion detected.”
“The data was deleted internally, directly using the highest-level password.”
The Head of Security looked at me.
“Ms. Hayes, only you know the password to this computer.”
Professor Davies’s disappointment was unconcealed.
“Stella, why?”
“It wasn’t me,” I said.
No one believed me.
The ‘Ouroboros’ project was indefinitely suspended.
I was placed on administrative leave from the lab, pending investigation.
Leo’s treatment was cut off again.
I stood before the hospital’s payment window, watching the scrolling outstanding balance notices on the electronic screen.
A black Bentley pulled up beside me.
The window lowered, revealing Julian Thorne’s impassive face.
“Get in.”
In the coffee shop, he pushed a contract across the table toward me.
“The ‘Ouroboros’ project, including all your personal patents, I’m buying it all.”
The price he offered was astronomical.
“Sign it, and I’ll treat your son’s illness. I’ll find him the best doctors in the world, use the best medicine.”
I pushed the contract back.
“My research is not for sale.”
He looked like he’d heard a joke.
“Stella, you’re not in a position to negotiate with me.”
“I only accept investment,” I looked at him. “Project control must remain with me.”
The last trace of patience in his eyes vanished.
“Do you really think you still have a choice?
“You stole your own mentor’s project. Your reputation is ruined. Without me, no one in this entire industry will give you a single penny.”
I stood up.
“Then we’ll see about that.”
Julian’s retaliation came swiftly.
Every investor I contacted rejected me at the last minute.
Even my friends, and even Professor Davies, subtly advised me to accept Julian’s terms.
I was completely isolated.
I replayed the lab’s surveillance footage from the night of the gala, over and over again.
11:37 PM.
A janitor appeared in the hallway.
He didn’t clean. Instead, he used a tool to pry open a network port next to the fire exit.
He stayed for five minutes.
Those five minutes were the exact window during which my data vanished.
I zoomed in on the video, capturing a side profile of his face.
After leaving the lab, he got into a car.
I checked the license plate number.
The vehicle registration pointed to Chloe Sterling’s personal chauffeur.
I contacted a financial journalist I knew.
The next day, an inconspicuous industry news item appeared online.
\[Rumors of ‘Ouroboros’ Project Core Data Having Backup; Stella Hayes Poised to Announce Groundbreaking Technical Breakthrough]
I deliberately leaked information, saying the backup data was hidden in a private warehouse on the outskirts of the city.
And that I would retrieve it in three days.
Chloe took the bait, as expected.
Three days later, outside the warehouse, my pre-arranged security team caught two suspicious men red-handed.
They were caught with the goods.
At the police station, Chloe’s face was ashen.
“I don’t know anything. I swear, I don’t.”
“They’re my chauffeurs, but I never told them to do anything.”
One of the thieves cracked under interrogation.
“It wasn’t Ms. Sterling!”
“It was… it was Mr. Victor Thorne of the Thorne family who ordered us!”
I froze.
Victor Thorne.
Julian’s estranged uncle, long marginalized and ousted from the family’s power center.
A perfect scapegoat.
Outside the interrogation room, Chloe, through the glass, flashed me a triumphant smile.
I knew Victor Thorne was just a smokescreen.
Chloe had gone to such lengths, even risking exposure, to destroy ‘Ouroboros.’
She was protecting a bigger secret.
A secret connected to the ‘Thanatos’ gene.
I pulled up all of Leo’s genetic maps again.
My family, the Hayes, had no history of genetic illness.
So, the source of the disease could only come from Julian.
I dug out the blood sample from Julian Thorne, saved from Leo’s paternity test five years ago.
I needed a comparison.
I began furiously researching all records from Julian’s early entrepreneurial days.
His rise to power was legendary; he’d built a business empire in just a few short years.
I focused on a biotech company that had long since gone bankrupt.
‘Genesis Horizon.’
Ten years ago, this company had secretly developed a gene enhancer code-named ‘GH-7.’
It was rumored to significantly boost human physical strength and energy.
But the project was eventually halted due to uncontrollable side effects, and all its data was supposedly destroyed.
‘Genesis Horizon’s parent company was Sterling Group.
Chloe Sterling’s family enterprise.
I tracked down the former lead scientist for the ‘GH-7’ project. He’d been retired for years.
I gave him a substantial amount of money, and in return, he gave me a copy of the clinical report that was supposedly ‘destroyed.’
The report detailed the side effects of ‘GH-7.’
One of the most severe was that it could cause specific site breaks and abnormal recombination in the gene chains of the user’s descendants.
The results matched Leo’s ‘Thanatos’ symptoms exactly.
I walked into the executive suite of Thorne Corporation, holding both reports.
Julian’s office.
“If you’re here for money again, you can leave now,” he said without looking up.
I slapped the DNA comparison report and the ‘GH-7’ side effect report side-by-side onto his desk.
“Take a look.”
He frowned, picking up the documents.
When he saw the final comparison results, his entire body froze.
“The source of the pathogenic gene, 100 percent, is from you.”
“Your proud success, your so-called perfection, it was all bought with my son’s life.”
The reports slipped from his hands, scattering across the floor. His face was utterly drained of blood.
“No… impossible…”
“They told me GH-7 was safe…”
“I will be suing you and Sterling Group on behalf of Leo, as his legal guardian.”
“Inhumane drug trials, deliberate concealment of grave risks. I will make you pay the price.”
I finished, then turned to leave.
Once this news broke, Thorne Corporation’s stock price would instantly collapse.
Everything he cherished would crumble to dust.
That very evening, Chloe, cornered and desperate, took drastic action.
I was in the lab, organizing the lawsuit materials, when acrid, thick smoke suddenly billowed in through the door cracks.
The fire alarm let out a piercing shriek.
The entire floor plunged into darkness as the power died, and the emergency exits clanged shut, locked tight.
Arson.
The fire spread quickly. I was trapped in the data center, clutching the metal box containing all the evidence.
Just as I was about to suffocate, the door burst open with a tremendous force.
Julian Thorne rushed in, covered in ash and soot.
His eyes weren’t on me, but on the box in my arms.
“Give me the damn thing!” he roared at me.
“Never!”
He lunged to grab it.
We struggled, wrestling.
The steel girders overhead glowed cherry-red, emitting an ear-splitting shriek as they groaned and buckled.
A massive beam, trailing sparks, crashed down towards my head.
I closed my eyes.
The expected agony never came.
Julian, in the last second, released his grip on the box.
He pushed me away, using his own body to shield me.
The thundering sound of the heavy structure hitting the ground was deafening.
Firefighters loaded a severely burned Julian onto the ambulance.
The piercing wail of sirens ripped through the night.
I clutched the metal box, standing outside the burning building, and didn’t follow.
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Right before freshman year started, I bought a lottery ticket. And I got incredibly lucky – I won five thousand dollars cash.
Thrilled, I offered to treat my entire dorm to a lavish dinner. But my three roommates, who always played up their financial struggles, just gave me cold stares.
Brittany, our dorm leader, said, “So, you’re the one who sucked all the good luck out of our dorm. No wonder I’ve been losing things every day lately.”
I thought she was kidding, so I proactively sent each of them a two-hundred-dollar e-transfer.
But the next day, Brittany outright snatched my meal card.
“You have to split your prize money with us, half and half! It’s the price you pay for stealing our luck!”
The other two crowded around me.
“Exactly! Ever since you showed up, I failed my test. It must be your fault!”
“This is called a ‘luck equalization fee.’ If you don’t pay, we’ll curse you to hell and back every single day!”
Seeing my refusal, they sneered.
“Fine. We’re not scared of you, so let’s see who can outlast who.”
But what they didn’t know was that I’d already used that prize money to prepare something that would expose all their secrets.
“Congratulations, third prize! Five thousand dollars cash!”
When the staff told me, I just froze.
Five thousand dollars!
My fingers tingled as I clutched the envelope.
Back in my dorm, I held up the envelope.
“Girls! I won the lottery!”
“Dinner’s on me tonight! That seafood buffet by the campus gates – let’s go have a feast!”
The dorm fell silent.
Brittany Hayes, our dorm leader, was putting on lipstick, glancing at me through the mirror.
Chelsea Miller sat at her desk, flipping through a book, the pages rustling loudly, without even looking up.
Our other roommate, Megan Jones, kept her head down, washing clothes, as if she hadn’t heard a word.
My smile stiffened.
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you guys happy?”
Brittany snapped her lipstick shut, turned around, and crossed her arms.
“Happy? Why would we be happy?”
“Turns out all the good luck in our dorm was sucked away by you.”
“No wonder I’ve been losing things every day lately. My prepaid laundry card, just after I’d loaded it up, went missing.”
I was stunned.
“How could that be? It’s just good fortune.”
I pulled six hundred dollars from my wallet and handed two hundred to each of them.
“Don’t say that. Finders keepers, right? Here, treat yourselves to something nice.”
Chelsea stopped flipping her book, looked up, and reached for the money.
Megan dried her hands and took two hundred dollars from me.
Brittany scoffed, snatched the money, and stuffed it into her pocket.
“At least you have some conscience.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
I knew all three of them relied heavily on financial aid, so their living expenses were tight. Giving them cash probably seemed more practical.
But I never expected that two hundred dollars would only whet their appetite.
The next day, I went to the cafeteria. Just as I swiped my card, a hand shot out and snatched my meal card.
It was Brittany.
She dangled my meal card.
I frowned.
“Brittany, what are you doing? Give me back my meal card.”
“Give it back? Sure.”
Brittany flipped the meal card in her hand, a cold smirk on her face.
“You have to split yesterday’s winnings with us, half and half.”
“Half of what? Didn’t I already give you guys some cash?”
“Two hundred bucks? What, are we beggars to you?”
Brittany raised her voice, drawing glances from other students around us.
“You stole luck from all three of us and won five thousand dollars! Only giving us two hundred – doesn’t your conscience bother you?”
Just then, Chelsea and Megan crowded around, blocking my exit.
Chelsea pointed a finger at my face.
“Exactly! The moment you arrived, I failed my pop quiz yesterday!”
“It’s definitely your fault!”
Megan quietly chimed in.
“It’s called ‘luck equalization.’ You hogged all the good fortune.”
“You have to share some with us, otherwise it’s not fair.”
I burst out laughing, furious.
“Do you have any sense of reason?”
“Winning the lottery is random chance, and failing your quiz is because *you* didn’t study.”
“How is any of this my fault?”
“What ‘luck’ are you even talking about? Stop being ridiculous!”
“Give me back my meal card!”
Brittany shoved my meal card into her pocket.
“Two thousand five hundred dollars, not a penny less!”
“This is the price you pay for stealing our luck!”
“If you don’t pay, we’ll curse you to hell and back every single day!”
“You’ll have bad luck every single day, you’ll trip over your own feet just walking around!”
I clenched my fists.
“I won’t give it to you!”
Brittany scoffed, exchanging glances with Chelsea and Megan.
“Fine, Skylar. We’re the ones with nothing to lose, so we’re not scared of you.”
“Let’s see who can outlast who!”
With that, they took my meal card, swiped the most expensive meals at the counter, and strutted away.
I stood there, seething and starving.
Back in the dorm, my desk had been shoved into a corner.
My books and skincare products were scattered all over the floor, a newly bought serum bottle smashed, its contents spilled everywhere.
Brittany, Chelsea, and Megan were sitting at their own desks, eating with my meal card, laughing and chatting.
Seeing me return, Brittany deliberately spoke loudly.
“Oh, this braised pork is so delicious today.”
“Eating with someone else’s card really does taste better.”
Chelsea chimed in.
“Doesn’t it? Some people are just born lucky.”
“It’s only right that we get to share in some of that.”
I was trembling all over. I rushed forward.
“You’re going too far!”
Brittany lifted her eyelids.
“Too far? This is just the beginning.”
“If you don’t pay up, you’ll only lose more of your things, and they’ll break faster.”
Megan muttered softly.
“Who told you to suck all our good luck away…”
I looked at the mess on the floor, knowing that reasoning with them was pointless.
I woke up the next morning to my toothbrush covered in mustard.
When I went to class, there was glue smeared on my forks.
At night, when I tried to sleep, they’d deliberately blast music at full volume, then suddenly turn it off just as I was drifting off, tormenting me repeatedly.
New clothes I bought would have holes the very next day.
Snacks on my desk would vanish in a flash, the wrappers left on my bed.
I couldn’t take it anymore and had a huge fight with them.
Brittany, however, just plopped down on the floor and started bawling.
“Everyone, come look!”
“The rich girl is bullying us poor students!”
“All I asked was for her to share a little of her prize money, and she’s trying to hit me!”
Chelsea and Megan fanned the flames, claiming I was using my family’s wealth to look down on them and force them to kneel.
The dorm hallway quickly filled with people, all pointing fingers and whispering about me.
“Whoa, who is that? So arrogant?”
“I heard it’s Skylar Reid from the finance department. She was flaunting a ten-thousand-dollar bag on Freshman Orientation Week. So high-profile.”
“Being rich makes her think she’s special? Forcing someone to kneel, that’s disgusting.”
I was speechless, my eyes welling up.
I went to Mr. Davison, my counselor, explained the situation, and asked to switch dorms.
After listening, Mr. Davison just gave me a placating smile, trying to smooth things over.
“Skylar, I know you feel wronged.”
“But you have to understand, your roommates come from difficult financial backgrounds, and they have strong pride.”
“It’s great that you won the lottery, but you also need to consider their feelings, right?”
I got agitated.
“Mr. Davison, this isn’t about feelings!”
“They’re extorting and bullying me!”
He waved his hand dismissively.
“Young people have little disagreements, it’s perfectly normal.”
“You just need to talk it out.”
“You come from a good family, so be more understanding with them. Just take the hit, consider it your good deed for the day.”
“Switching dorms is a complicated process; it’s practically impossible.”
“You should just go back and have a good talk with them.”
I left Mr. Davison’s office, feeling utterly cold.
So, “understanding” meant I had to back down.
And “communication” meant I had to pay them.
I returned to the dorm, where Brittany and the others were waiting for me.
Brittany smiled when she saw me.
“Well? Went to complain to the teacher? Was it any use?”
Chelsea crossed her arms.
“We already guessed it. Mr. Davison hates privileged princesses who whine whenever things don’t go their way.”
“Don’t struggle anymore, Skylar.”
“Just give us the money, and we can all get along peacefully.”
Megan also added.
“Yeah, it won’t do you any good if this gets bigger.”
“We’ve already trashed your reputation.”
I looked at them, and my last shred of hesitation vanished.
I pulled out my phone and, right in front of them, sent a message to a number.
Brittany thought I was about to transfer the money, and her smile deepened.
“Came to your senses? Wouldn’t it have been easier to just do this earlier?”
I ignored her and sent another message.
That evening, I was studying in the library when I received a call from an unknown number.
A woman’s voice came from the other end.
“Hello? Is this Skylar Reid? I’m Chloe Davis’s mom!”
Chloe Davis was the girl I tutored.
My heart sank.
“Ms. Davis, hello. Has something happened to Chloe?”
“How dare you ask! What exactly did you do to my Chloe?!”
The woman roared into the phone.
“Your classmates all called and told me everything!”
“They said you have bad character, that you form cliques and bully students at school!”
“They said you cheat on your own exams and have no business being a tutor!”
“My Chloe is so innocent, what if you lead her astray?!”
“Don’t bother coming for tutoring this month! We don’t need you anymore!”
The call ended. I clutched my phone, my hands and feet freezing cold.
Brittany, Chelsea, Megan.
They actually did something like this!
They were trying to ruin my reputation, to cut off all my avenues!
I rushed back to the dorm, shoving the door open.
The three of them were huddled together, showing no surprise at my return.
Brittany smiled at me.
“Oh, you’re back? How does it feel to get fired from your tutoring job?”
I was shaking all over, my voice trembling.
“You did this, didn’t you?”
Chelsea stood up and walked towards me.
“That’s right, we did.”
“We already looked into it. You tutor every week, making quite a bit of cash, huh?”
“How about it? Do you know how powerful we are now?”
Megan also chimed in.
“We just made a phone call, gave that parent a heads-up.”
“If you don’t want things to escalate, to be completely blacklisted from the entire tutoring circuit…”
“Then just be obedient.”
Brittany leaned back in her chair.
“Two thousand five hundred dollars. This is the final warning.”
“Otherwise, the next step is to print out all your misdeeds.”
“And plaster them all over campus.”
“Making sure you can never show your face in this school again.”
I looked at them.
I thought they only wanted money, but I never expected them to be so malicious, wanting to completely destroy me.
They thought they had me cornered.
My nails dug deep into my palms, and I could taste blood in my mouth.
Brittany saw my pale face, thought I was scared, and reached out her hand.
“Give it to us, the money.”
“Once the transfer is done, we’ll immediately call that parent.”
“And help clear things up for you.”
Chelsea urged.
“Hurry up, stop dragging your feet.”
“Our patience is limited.”
Megan whispered from the side.
“If you give us the money, we can still be good roommates…”
Good roommates?
I looked at them and suddenly laughed.
My laugh was soft, but the dorm instantly fell silent.
Brittany frowned.
“What are you laughing at? Have you lost your mind?”
I didn’t answer. I slowly raised my head, my gaze calmly sweeping over each of them.
I spoke softly.
“You said you had nothing to lose, that you weren’t afraid of anything.”
“You thought because you found my tutoring information, you had a hold on me.”
“You thought by ruining my reputation, you could force me to comply.”
Brittany started to get a little unnerved by my stare.
“You… what are you going to do?”
“I’m telling you, don’t try anything stupid!”
“Stupid?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Compared to you, I’m far from it.”
I walked to my desk and, under their wary gaze, picked up my phone.
Chelsea nervously asked.
“What are you going to do? Call Mr. Davison?”
“It won’t work!”
“No.”
I shook my head, unlocking the screen.
Then, I dialed a number.
The call connected.
I put it on speaker, and a calm male voice came through.
“Ms. Reid.”
Brittany and the other three froze, exchanging bewildered glances.
I looked at Brittany, a small smile playing on my lips.
“Hello.”
“It’s time.”
“Release everything we found about Brittany.”
The man on the other end of the phone replied with a single word.
“Copy that.”
The call ended, and the dorm was enveloped in silence.
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