Category: English

To ensure her beloved ex got promoted, the CEO’s wife stole my proposal. Then she had the audacity to accuse me of plagiarism, claiming I copied her ex’s work, and demanded severe disciplinary action. Her ex, Mason Rivers, smirked, looking smug. “Liam Allen, I can’t believe you’d stoop to such scheming and dishonest tactics just to get a promotion. Mr. Harrison despises petty, underhanded people like you. Once he’s back, not only will you be kicked out of the company, but you’ll be blacklisted across the entire industry.” I didn’t get angry. Instead, I just laughed and resigned on the spot. My wife, Isabella Harris, seeing me so compliant, privately offered to put in a good word for me, assuring me that getting back into the company wouldn’t be a problem. What they didn’t know was that Mr. Harrison was my dad, and he’d seen me write that proposal firsthand. Once the truth came out, they wouldn’t just be utterly disgraced; they’d lose everything. “Liam Allen, the company invested so much manpower and resources into training you, and you’re just walking away?” “I can be generous and forgive your plagiarism. However, you’ll have to work as my assistant and learn what real decency and integrity means.” Mason Rivers straightened his suit jacket, his face full of mockery as he stepped on the proposal I’d spent a week burning the midnight oil on. I sneered back. “Mason Rivers, you’re nothing but a kept man, clinging to a woman to get ahead, you shameless cheat. What right do you have to be yapping here? Have me as your assistant? Do you honestly think you’re worthy?” Everyone present gasped, shocked that I, a failed candidate for promotion, dared to talk back. Mason’s face subtly changed. Isabella Harris, sitting firmly in the main chair, suddenly stood up. She grabbed the uncapped pen from beside her and hurled it at me. “Liam Allen, you’re utterly insolent! This is Harrison Corp., not your living room! You plagiarized, and now you’re trying to turn the tables on us?” I didn’t have time to dodge. The pen tip sliced across my cheek, leaving a thin line of crimson blood. The sharp sting made me wince. Isabella’s long lashes fluttered, a flicker of something, maybe regret, in her eyes as she clenched her fists and spoke in a low, tight voice. “Mason is being so kind to forgive you. You should be incredibly grateful. It’s not easy to find a job these days.” I just curled my lips. We’d been married for five years, and Isabella and I had worked tirelessly together at the company for five years. She always said that once I became a Vice President, we’d go public with our marriage. She kept climbing, her position getting higher and higher, but her heart drifted further and further away. Every time a promotion opportunity came up, she ordered me to give it to someone else. Those who joined the company before me needed stability; they deserved promotion. Those who joined after me were ‘talented’; they deserved promotion. Mason Rivers had broken up with her in the past because she was ‘poor.’ Only after his family’s fortunes crashed did he come crawling back. He joined the company a year ago and was fast-tracked for promotion three times. Isabella personally wrote glowing reports, praising him to high heaven. I’d finally gotten to the point where I was about to stand shoulder to shoulder with her, but then she stole my proposal for Mason Rivers and accused me of plagiarism. “Alright, Isabella, don’t be angry. I don’t blame him. After all, getting caught plagiarizing is quite shameful. But I’m kind-hearted. I can’t bear to see him homeless, so I’m willing to share the project results with him so he can make up for his mistake.” Mason Rivers spoke up, feigning reconciliation, a smug look on his face. “Mr. Harrison is still recovering abroad and doesn’t know what’s happened here. Liam Allen, I can put in a good word for you when he gets back.” It was always like this. He’d push me to my breaking point, then hide behind Isabella, playing the victim. It made everyone believe he was bearing immense humiliation and was genuinely kind-hearted, while I was petty and spiteful, unable to tolerate others. Isabella nodded, her eyes full of admiration as she looked at Mason. “Liam Allen, Mason is so excellent and has such good character. You’ll be lucky to work under him.” Lucky? Besides his sweet talk and empty promises, he knew absolutely nothing about corporate work. If you looked at his achievements, they were all projects where Isabella had forcefully added his name, or projects he’d outright stolen from me. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have needed to plagiarize me for a simple proposal. Thinking of this, I scoffed. “Work with him? That flawed, copy-pasted proposal of mine, riddled with holes? If he takes that out, he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t anger our partners to death. I don’t want to get dragged into that mess.” Mason’s eyes reddened. He pulled off his employee badge and cried. “Isabella, I know I’m new to the industry and don’t have Liam’s experience. I’ve tried my best to befriend him, but he still has such a big prejudice against me. I can’t do this anymore. Maybe I should just leave!” If he hadn’t been clutching that badge tightly in his hand, I might have actually believed him. Bang! Isabella slammed her hand on the table, yelling furiously. “Liam Allen, this is workplace bullying! Apologize to Mason right now! Don’t forget what I told you a few days ago!” She winked at me, making a motion with her hand as if putting on a ring. I knew. She was threatening me with our official announcement. Everyone present, watching our dispute, unhesitatingly sided with the CEO. “Liam Allen, you were about to be kicked out of the company. It was our VP Mason who was generous enough to let you stay. You should be grateful! Now apologize!” “VP Mason is so dashing and talented. We’d all fight to be his assistant! You’re shameless enough to plagiarize, and you can’t even apologize? What’s with this ‘integrity’ act?” My gaze swept over all those familiar faces. Isabella had always treated me harshly at the company, exceptionally strict, making it known to everyone that she disliked me. These opportunists usually disobeyed orders and left all the messes for me to clean up. I endured it, waiting for the day I’d be promoted to VP and Isabella would go public with our marriage. All I got was an empty promise. Facing their coercion, I said calmly, “Since VP Rivers is so excellent, why does he need me? I wish him luck in leading the company to greatness.” Isabella saw I wasn’t taking the bait. Her delicate brows furrowed, and she snapped, “Liam Allen, you’re still so stubborn! When Mr. Harrison returns, it will be your downfall!” I chuckled. “More like your downfall.” Only I knew that Mr. Harrison was my dad, and I was his only son, pampered since childhood. When I was burning the midnight oil writing that proposal, he was sick, but he worried about my eyes so much it broke his heart. He even offered to write it for me. I wanted to see who would really be in trouble once my dad came back.

Isabella was shaking with rage, about to yell at me again. But I’d already pushed open the conference room door and walked out of the company. The house decor was minimalist. I collapsed onto the sofa, staring blankly up at the extraordinarily large crystal chandelier. When we decorated, Isabella had said, “Liam Allen, someday I’ll buy you a huge mansion, and this lamp will be exactly where it belongs!” But now, that serious-faced girl gradually faded from my mind. Seven years ago, we met in college. I was drawn to her earnest expression as she worked a part-time job in the cafeteria, wiping tables and washing dishes. She said she’d come from a poor, rural background, and her parents had been killed by unscrupulous corporate types, which was why she hated rich kids the most. So I pretended to be an ordinary person and dated her, falling deeper and deeper in love. After graduation, she said she wanted to work hard and make it on her own. I abandoned my parents’ plans for me to study abroad. I even threatened to cut ties with them, throwing myself headfirst into the trap of love. To punish me, my parents cut off all financial support and blacklisted me from the entire industry. In the beginning, I was busy running errands during the day and, in my free time at night, I delivered food and worked as a designated driver. Isabella and I were crammed into a cramped, windowless basement apartment, and my immune system weakened. I broke out in rashes all over my body. My mom would sneak a look at me then, find me thin and worn out, and just cry. Isabella was just a fresh-faced corporate newbie back then, still very green in business. It was I who taught her how to apply economic principles strategically, guiding her growth with the experience I gained from interning at my family’s company, wanting her to become as skilled as I was. She told me countless times that without me, she wouldn’t have made it. One New Year’s Eve, we huddled together under a blanket, watching a movie on my tiny old phone, listening to the fireworks outside. A bowl of ramen with an egg was our best New Year’s meal. She craved it, her mouth watering, but she kept putting her egg into my bowl, insisting I eat. Finally, my parents realized we were slowly finding our footing even in such difficult circumstances. They relented, secretly lifting the industry blacklisting order and bringing Isabella and me into the company for an internship. I thought a bright future was finally coming. But what came instead was Isabella becoming increasingly cold towards me because of work. A year ago, Mason Rivers suddenly reappeared, begging on his knees for her forgiveness. That was the first time she didn’t come home all night, completely wasted. She told me countless times that she was being good to Mason because, even though he was a disgraced rich kid, he was still a connection, useful for the company. I believed her. Until this time, when she unscrupulously used me as a stepping stone to pave the way for Mason. I finally had enough. I pulled out my phone and asked my mom, “How’s Dad’s condition? When is he coming back?” My mom sensed something was off and replied, “He thinks he’s much better. He’ll be back tomorrow. Has someone at the company been bothering you?” I replied, “No, I just miss you guys.” Just as I was about to close my phone and go to sleep, I scrolled through Mason Rivers’s Ins story. “My beautiful boss is so kind and generous. She approved a company car for me to drive! Thanks, Isabella!” In the photo, Mason stood in front of a luxury sedan worth half a million dollars, while Isabella held a bouquet of flowers, looking gentle. The comment section exploded, praising him and Isabella, saying they looked good together. Isabella, who had claimed our marriage had to be kept secret because office romance was frowned upon, silently approved of everyone shipping her and Mason. She only replied, “The company won’t treat you unfairly. This is the perk of being a VP.” Yet, when I wanted to replace my beat-up sedan, which I’d driven for years, Isabella accused me of not being considerate of the company’s finances and not treating the company like it was my own. She never approved it. Love and indifference were so painfully obvious. Late into the night, Isabella finally came home. She’d had quite a bit to drink, stumbling unsteadily. After collapsing onto the sofa, she winced, covering her eyes, and complained, “Why are the lights so bright? Are you trying to blind me?” Too lazy to argue with a drunk, I turned off the crystal chandelier, leaving only a faint glow from the entryway light. In the darkness, Isabella’s watery eyes were bright. She mumbled, “Liam Allen, you almost made me lose face at the company today, and you didn’t even come to pick me up tonight. You’re really something. Do you actually want to be a kept man? How can I go public with our marriage like this, how can I go back to your family’s place and meet your parents?” She hugged the throw pillow on the sofa. Something seemed to cross her mind, and she suddenly chuckled. “A rich kid like Mason is just different from someone from your small-town background. Look how generous he is, he even urged me to come home early, worried you’d make a fuss. As long as you agree to take some of the burden off him, I might even be able to hire you back as a full-time employee!” Ultimately, it was just about getting me to do Mason Rivers’s work for free. In the darkness, I said, “No need for all that trouble. Let’s get a divorce.”

“What?” She mumbled, half-asleep. I turned around, took out the divorce papers I’d already printed, and repeated, “Let’s get a divorce. Give Mason Rivers an official title.” Isabella’s faint smile froze, and she sobered up in an instant. After a long silence, she got up, poking my chest with her finger, her voice sharp. “Liam Allen, are you crazy? When did you get such a temper? You threw a fit and resigned just because you missed one promotion, and now, just because I had a drink with Mason tonight, you’re threatening divorce? You better think this through. I’m the breadwinner in this family. What right do you have to threaten me?” “I’m already exhausted today. Tomorrow, I have to help Mason with our partners. Coming home just to get yelled at is worse than staying at the office!” With that, she grabbed her coat and stormed out. I didn’t go after her. I simply placed the divorce papers on the coffee table, turned around, and went to bed. The next day, after breakfast, my mom sent me a message: “Liam, Dad and I have already left for the company. Don’t bother coming to the airport. See you at the company. Mom brought you a gift.” I wiped my mouth and headed for the office. As soon as I entered the company, Isabella was chatting with Mason Rivers, laughing heartily. When she saw me, her upward curving lips flattened. She glanced at me sideways. “Oh, look who it is. The person who resigned yesterday. Why are you still here? It’s not payday yet.” Before I could speak, a secretary called Mason away, saying the partners had arrived and wanted to discuss things with him. Mason patted my shoulder and whispered, “Liam, I’m not saying this to be mean, but how can you let Isabella, a woman, wander around outside in the middle of the night? It’s so dangerous. I had to take her to my place. Don’t worry, I’m a gentleman. I slept on the floor.” I knew he was intentionally trying to make me misunderstand. But I wasn’t here at the company to argue today. Isabella, however, smiled smugly. “Mason just submitted his proposal yesterday, and today the partners are already here to meet him. They must be very pleased and want to deepen our cooperation. Liam Allen, you just don’t know what’s good for you. I’d like to see which company would hire someone with no background or talent after you leave Harrison Corp.” I couldn’t help but frown. “That proposal clearly has problems. You actually approved it?” Isabella’s beautiful eyes narrowed, and she scowled, displeased. “Liam Allen, don’t speak such venomous nonsense. Mason’s business acumen is far better than yours. How could there be any problems?!” Suddenly, shouting erupted from the conference room. The next second, the conference room door burst open, and Mason Rivers stormed out. He fixed his gaze on Isabella, clinging to her like a lifeline, hugging her waist and not daring to look up. Isabella simply patted his hand on her waist, soothingly. “What’s wrong? Are the partners not satisfied with your proposal?” Before he could answer, the furious partners emerged. “Harrison Corp.’s proposals are this low quality? As soon as that proposal launched yesterday, not a single one of our products sold, and they’re being boycotted!” “‘A woman’s worth is in her looks; that’s what men truly desire.’ Who wrote that line? Did anyone even think before submitting it?!” The partners were fuming. Isabella frowned, looking troubled. Mason’s eyes darted around, then he immediately pointed at me and yelled, “It was him! He held a grudge after being caught plagiarizing and deliberately swapped my original file! He should be entirely responsible for this!”

I was utterly dumbfounded by this baseless accusation. Isabella’s gaze lingered on me for a second, then she effortlessly shifted the blame onto me. “It’s true, it was him. This person has a history. We’ve already decided to fire him, and we’ll deal with him severely to provide your party with a reasonable explanation!” The partners snorted. After much placating and apologizing, they finally ushered the partner out. Mason Rivers peeked his head out, then finally straightened up and cleared his throat. “Liam Allen, it’s all your fault. This project is completely ruined. Do you know this project had tens of millions in profit? Even if I wanted to speak up for you, you’ll have to compensate us for this project!” I found it laughable. “Mason Rivers, are you delusional?” Isabella shielded Mason, her face arrogant. “Mason just managed to become VP. He can’t have this kind of blemish on his record. Liam Allen, if you admit your mistake, I might grudgingly have a good impression of you.” I sneered. My biggest mistake was letting her waltz into the company and wreak havoc. Just as I was about to turn, Mason Rivers grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked hard. My neck felt strangely bare. I turned back and saw the rare sapphire pendant my parents had commissioned for my eighteenth birthday, now clutched in Mason’s hand as he fiddled with it. He scoffed. “What a cheap, superstitious trinket. So clear, must be cheap glass. Liam Allen, if you admit the project is your responsibility, I can buy you a real one.” My eyes widened. “Give it back!” Isabella, knowing full well this was my cherished possession and that I never took it off, frowned and said, “If you agree to admit to swapping the original file, I’ll have Mason give it back to you.” Rage burned in my chest. I reached out to grab it, yelling again. “Give it back right now!” Seeing my anger, Mason smirked, deliberately letting go. The sapphire pendant dropped to the floor, shattering into several pieces. My pupils contracted. The next second, pure rage consumed me. I kicked Mason square in the chest. He staggered back two steps and fell to the ground. Everyone gasped, seeing my sudden outburst, and rushed to surround me. Isabella quickly helped Mason up, but I wasn’t about to let him off easy. A year’s worth of frustration and resentment exploded. I punched him square on the nose. Immediately, two streams of blood poured down his face. People from behind grabbed me, pinning my arms, but I still tried to kick him with my legs. “Mason Rivers, I’m not letting a worm like you get away with this!” Isabella’s eyes were full of heartache. She shielded the back of Mason’s head and wiped his nosebleed with a tissue. Mason burst into tears, tugging at her sleeve. “Isabella, I accidentally dropped his thing, it wasn’t on purpose.” Isabella suddenly stood up and slapped me across the face, snapping my head to the side. She snapped, “Liam Allen, get on your knees and apologize to Mason! That necklace of yours was just a cheap piece of junk. So what if it broke? How could you hit him? I’ll buy you ten more!” How ridiculous. My parents spent millions to acquire that rare sapphire, and hired a world-renowned jeweler to craft it. The craftsmanship alone cost hundreds of thousands. Most importantly, my parents had it specially blessed for me, spending days seeking good fortune for my life at a spiritual retreat. Its significance was immeasurable. Seeing me silent, everyone pushed me down, forcing me to my knees. “Liam Allen, what’s with the act? We’re not calling the cops on you, that’s charity enough! Now, apologize!” I struggled violently, glaring at everyone. “Mr. Harrison will be here any minute. If you’re so brave, try forcing me to my knees in front of him.” Mason Rivers still thought I was bluffing. He snorted. “Isabella doesn’t even know when Mr. Harrison is coming back. You think you can fool us by saying he’s here and get out of compensating for the project going south?” Isabella said in a low voice, “Even if Mr. Harrison comes, it’s no use if you complain to him. He won’t believe you.” I chuckled, poking the inside of my cheek with my tongue, where my tooth had cut it. “I’m his son. He won’t believe me?” Mason Rivers looked like he’d heard the funniest joke in the world. “Liam Allen, have you lost your mind from fear? Your last name is Allen, his is Harrison. If you’re his son, then I’m his grandpappy!” “Everyone knows Mr. Harrison’s beloved son has been studying abroad. You, a country boy, are quite vain, forgetting your roots!” After I hit him, he could no longer maintain his gentlemanly facade. His face contorted in a sneer. Before his words even finished, a steady male voice rang out. “What is this commotion in the lobby? This is utterly unacceptable!” I turned my head. The middle-aged man who had just stepped into the company was impeccably dressed, exuding authority. It was my dad. I hadn’t even had time to feel happy when Mason Rivers roughly shoved me aside and went to greet him, fawning. “Mr. Harrison, you’re back! How are you feeling? We were just cleaning house. Everyone knows you value character most, but a certain employee not only plagiarized my proposal to get promoted but also deliberately sabotaged my original file out of revenge, angering our partners and causing our company to lose a hundred-million-dollar deal!” He looked up, tears in his eyes, and pulled out the bloody tissue from his nose. “He even deliberately hit me! Such a person is truly disgusting!” My dad’s eyes widened in fury. He looked at Isabella. “Isabella, is what he’s saying true? If there’s such a petty person, notify the legal department to make him pay compensation and issue a public statement to blacklist him from the entire industry. I’ll make sure that person knows the consequences of tarnishing my Harrison Corp.!” Isabella glanced at me imperceptibly, hesitated for a second, then finally nodded her assent. “Mr. Harrison, I’ve already fired him, but he is an old employee of our company…” Saying that, she pulled me from the crowd. “Liam Allen, why aren’t you apologizing to Mr. Harrison? Otherwise, even if I put in a good word for you, Mr. Harrison won’t let you off easy!” The next second, my dad raised his hand. Everyone thought he was going to hit me, their faces full of mockery. Mason Rivers even yelled, “Mr. Harrison, don’t dirty your hands by hitting him. Why don’t I do it?” But my dad only touched the slap mark on my face, his eyes full of concern. “Liam, who hit you? Dad will make them pay!” Everyone present, who had been gloating, couldn’t believe their eyes at this scene. They exchanged stunned glances. I bit my lip, my nose stung, and I barely managed to keep my tears from falling.

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Last life, both I and my husband’s first love went into difficult labor at the same time. My husband, without a moment’s hesitation, gave the critical blood transfusion to Ashley, leading to my child being brain-damaged from birth. He took Ashley and their child to the city to start a business, hitting it big and becoming a renowned entrepreneur. They lived in a sprawling mansion, enjoying the high life. But my child and I? We were left behind in a remote town, enduring daily humiliation from the locals. Until a group of thugs lured my son into an old, dilapidated outhouse and drowned him in the cesspit. Soon after, I aged beyond recognition, barely forty but looking eighty – a withered, broken husk of a woman. When my husband finally returned, flaunting his success, Ashley, nestled in his arms, still looked like she was in her twenties. Seeing me, Ashley smirked, a triumphant glint in her eyes: “Granny, mind stepping aside?” I felt my blood boil, then my world went black. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the delivery room, in the throes of labor.

A searing, tearing pain ripped through me, and I realized I’d been reborn to the moment of my difficult labor. Right now, Blake’s first love, Ashley, was in the delivery room right next to mine. Clutching my belly, I rasped out, “Give me blood! A transfusion!” The next second, my mother-in-law, Brenda, stormed into the delivery room. Her face was a thundercloud, and she didn’t hesitate to slap me, hard. “Blood transfusion? Do you know how much that costs?” “If you hadn’t insisted on coming to this small community clinic to give birth, the money we saved could’ve lasted us for ages!” My face stung with throbbing pain, but I bit down hard on my lip. If I hadn’t insisted on coming here, with the abysmal hygiene conditions at home, both my child and I would have been dead! My voice, raw with pain, was barely a whisper. “Please! I’m having a difficult labor, give me blood!” “Otherwise, the baby will be brain-damaged!” Brenda scoffed. “Why are you so overdramatic?” “I think you’re just not trying hard enough, you just want to slack off, that’s why you can’t push him out!” I ignored her taunts, grabbing the nurse’s cold, clammy hand. “Please, help me!” The nurse glanced at my lower body, her expression grave as she nodded. “She’s hemorrhaging badly! Prepare for a blood transfusion!” Just as the nurse was about to leave, Brenda blocked her path, her shifty eyes glinting with a cruel light. “Our family won’t pay for any blood transfusion! We don’t have the money!” “What’s a little blood? Every woman bleeds during childbirth! She just needs to tough it out.” I clenched my teeth, screaming at the nurse, my voice raw, “I have money! I’ll pay for it! Please, get me the blood!” At that, Brenda finally moved aside, but she kept muttering about how dramatic I was. Just as the nurse returned with the blood bag, Blake burst in and snatched it away. “Ashley is also in difficult labor! She needs the blood now! Give it to Ashley first!” My heart seized. “No, Blake! I’m hemorrhaging too!” Blake scoffed. “Who are you trying to fool?” “I know you can’t stand Ashley, but how could you lie about something so life-or-death? Have you no shame?” “You’re screaming your head off, but Ashley’s in so much pain she can’t even speak!” I gritted my teeth. “I’m carrying *your* child! Can you really be so heartless?” “You and Ashley have the same blood type. You can donate your blood to her, it’s the same thing!” As soon as I said that, Brenda scowled and started yelling at me. “Is that how a wife talks? His blood is his life force, darling. Donating it would drain him, weaken him! How dare you suggest such a thing?” Before I could retort, Blake was already turning to leave with the blood. He said, “You’re so strong, you can just grit your teeth and get through it. But Ashley… she can’t!”

I gritted my teeth, sinking into a pit of despair. Had I been reborn only to watch myself and my child slide back into the tragic fate of my previous life? Just as the darkness threatened to swallow me whole, a name pierced through the chaotic fog in my mind. Liam. My childhood sweetheart. After I married Blake in my last life, I lost touch with Liam. I’d only vaguely heard he’d become the manager of the local general store. He worked nearby. He could definitely help me. I mustered my last ounce of strength, gripping the nurse’s cold, clammy hand. “Nurse… please…” My voice was a ragged, desperate rasp, like sandpaper on stone. “Help me make a call. Get someone to bring me blood!” But at that moment, Blake reappeared at the delivery room door. His gaze, sharp as a razor, cut into me. “Skylar, what are you playing at?” “You still have the energy to talk. You’re not even in difficult labor. Why are you calling people?” Every single word he uttered felt like a poisoned ice pick, a brutal stab to my heart. My vision swam with black spots, and a tearing pain ripped through my lower body. I bit down hard on my lip. “Blake, the child I’m carrying… is *your* child too!” He scoffed, a chilling sneer twisting his lips. “Precisely because it’s my child, I can’t let him be born into a lie.” “You’re not in difficult labor at all. You just saw Ashley having complications and decided to fake it to make me pity you!” I never imagined that Blake truly intended to abandon my child and me to our deaths! Just then, the nurse cried out in a panic, “The patient really is in difficult labor! She needs a blood transfusion immediately, or the baby’s life will be in danger!” Blake merely sneered. “Oh, you’re good! You even bribed the nurse to trick me!” “Tell me! How much did she pay you to put on this act with her?” The nurse’s face went white. She struggled, crying, “Let go of me! Saving lives is urgent!” Blake looked like he’d heard the funniest joke. “Save her? What’s worth saving about a woman full of lies and a vicious heart?” At that moment, Ashley’s sharp scream echoed from the next delivery room. The coldness on his face instantly melted into anxious desperation, as if scorched by flames. He didn’t even spare me another glance, turning and rushing into the room next door. Before he left, he spoke to Brenda, his voice dark. “Mom, stay here and watch her!” “Let’s see how long she can keep up this act!” His words, so casually tossed, felt like poisoned icicles, sealing shut the last sliver of hope I clung to. My vision went black, and all the strength drained from my body in an instant, leaving me hollow. I finally stopped struggling, stopped crying out. Because I realized I had completely lost hope. “No! The patient can’t hold on much longer!” The nurse’s anxious voice pulled me back to a sliver of consciousness from the fog. “If she doesn’t get blood soon, the baby will suffocate inside her!” A tearing pain ripped through me, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. For me, and for my child! “Is this your family’s child or not? Are you going to just stand there and watch him die?” Brenda’s shifty eyes swept coldly over my pathetic form on the bed, not a trace of compassion on her face. A moment later, a chilling, twisted smile stretched across her face. “Difficult labor, you say?” “I have a folk remedy that works wonders.” My heart clenched, and a terrifying premonition seized me, cold and relentless.

Brenda’s eyes were fixed on me, and she slowly, deliberately, uttered the rest of her sentence. “When a pregnant woman has difficult labor, you find a horse, make it step on her belly a few times, and the baby will come right out.” “Once the horse’s hoof falls, the baby will be delivered naturally!” *Boom!* My mind went blank. How could any sane person suggest something so monstrous? She wanted to stomp us into a bloody pulp! “No! No!” I don’t know where the strength came from, but I violently propped myself up halfway on the bed, screaming hysterically with my raw, torn throat. “You wouldn’t dare!” She scoffed, her smile laced with venom and malicious delight. “It’s not up to you.” Every word she spoke was like a death sentence. “You’re carrying a child of the Blake family. How it’s born is our decision!” No sooner had she finished speaking than she turned and walked out of the delivery room. Soon after, Brenda returned with two burly men. “Drag her out!” The two men nodded and started walking towards me, step by heavy step! The nurse spread her arms, blocking them, her face pale. “You’re trying to kill her!” “She’s just given birth! She’ll die like this!” I thrashed with all my limbs, but my meager strength was like trying to stop a bulldozer with my bare hands against two grown men. One grabbed my arms, the other lifted my legs, and they brutally dragged me off the bed. I was lifted and carried out like a sacrificial lamb, stripped of all dignity. They carried me to the entrance of the clinic. A crowd of curious villagers had gathered. “What’s going on? Why are they carrying out the woman who’s giving birth?” “Must be that her in-laws found out the baby isn’t theirs! Serves her right!” “No wonder! She deserves it!” Brenda led a yellow ox, the very one that had pulled the cart bringing me here, from a short distance away. She brought the ox in front of me, its snorting breath hot on my face. Brenda’s wrinkled yet menacing face, her eyes glinting with undisguised malice. “No horse? No problem.” “An ox will do just fine!” Waves of despair washed over me. Were my son and I destined to die, not even getting a whole body back? What had I ever done wrong to deserve this? Just then, I saw Blake standing at the clinic entrance. I cried out as if clutching a lifeline. “Blake! The child I’m carrying is your son! Do you really want me to be humiliated like this?” “If I die, aren’t you afraid of what people will say about you?” But my desperate screams only earned me Blake’s cold scoff. “Who told you to fake difficult labor and lie? It’s good my mom gives you a lesson!” At that, my eyes closed, and all hope vanished. No one could save me now. I only hated myself for choosing the wrong man, for dooming my son in two lifetimes. Brenda led the ox closer, its foul-smelling saliva dripping onto my face. She gave a chilling smirk: “It’ll be over soon. Just one stomp and the baby will come out smoothly!” As Brenda cracked the whip, the ox lifted its hoof high, about to come down on my body! In that split second, I heard a familiar voice! “Stop!” That voice… “Skylar, is that you?” I wrenched my eyes open and saw a familiar figure at the edge of the crowd.

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A muffled voice crackled through the bus speakers, announcing the next stop. 1. **Rule number one:** Never give up your seat to someone holding a baby. Break this, and you’ll regret it forever. 2. **Rule number two:** If you accidentally break Rule One, you can’t refuse anything the woman with the baby asks. Refuse, and you’ll die. 3. **Rule number three:** Don’t easily trust people in black and white checkered shirts. What they say could be true, or it could be a lie. 4. **Rule number four:** Absolutely never trust people in red clothes. See red, look down. Avoid eye contact at all costs. They are devils, masters of manipulation. 5. **Don’t… get off… never… get off at…** “Static crackled… then silence.” The bus pulled to a stop. A woman, cradling a baby, stepped inside. The bus speakers blared again. “Westside Lane One, now arriving. Please exit through the rear door.” *Tap-tap-tap…* The woman with the baby paused right in front of me. My sleepy haze instantly evaporated. I was just about to stand up and offer my seat. Suddenly, a piercing, grating sound ripped through the bus. **【1. NEVER give up your seat to a woman holding a baby!】** **【NEVER give up your seat to a woman holding a baby!】** **【NEVER give up your seat to a woman holding a baby, or you’ll regret it forever!】** The static-filled voice grew sharper, more insistent with each repetition. I clapped my hands over my ears, my heart pounding, and glanced around at the other passengers. They looked like they hadn’t heard a thing. This sound… it felt like only I could hear it. What the hell was going on? Was I hallucinating? Just as I was brushing it off, the bus speakers flared to life again, the voice still only audible to me. **【Bus Survival Rules】** **【1. Remember, never give up your seat to a woman holding a baby. Break this, and you’ll regret it forever.】** **【2. If you accidentally break Rule One, you can’t refuse anything the woman with the baby asks. Refuse, and you’ll die.】** **【3. Don’t easily trust people in black and white checkered shirts. What they say could be true, or it could be a lie.】** **【4. Absolutely never trust people in red clothes. See red, look down. Avoid eye contact at all costs. They are devils, masters of manipulation.】** **【5. Get off at the final stop. Never, ever get off at any stop in between, no matter what you see or hear.】** **【6. If you accidentally break any of these forbidden rules, scream for the driver’s help! Remember, you only get ONE chance!】** The woman with the baby stood right in front of me. Give up the seat or… don’t? Who was I supposed to believe? Giving up my seat was the right thing to do, a gesture of kindness. Not doing it would make my conscience scream. But if I did give up my seat, what exactly would happen that I’d regret forever?

I was in the very front of the bus. The front seats faced each other. Three blue seats on the left, three blue seats on the right. Every seat was taken. My seat was right behind the driver. Mr. Thorne kept urging the newly boarded passengers to move to the back. But the woman with the baby just stood there, motionless, in front of me.

I kept my head down, pretending not to notice her. Those narrow, pointed blue embroidered shoes remained firmly in my line of sight, unwavering. Wait a second! Aren’t those… the kind you only see in old movies, meant for the dead? Burial shoes? The atmosphere quickly turned eerie. My palms were slick with sweat. Mr. Thorne barked, “Someone give up their seat for the lady with the baby!” My head was still bowed, my hands clammy. In the middle of the bus, there were yellow seats marked for priority seating. Why wasn’t she waiting there for someone else to offer their seat? Why *me*? Why was she specifically standing in front of me?

The woman with the baby swayed unsteadily in the aisle, looking ready to collapse from exhaustion. Everyone stared at her and the poor baby in her arms, their gazes burning into me, full of disgust and anger. As Mr. Thorne’s urging intensified, and under the torrent of condemning glares from the other passengers, it felt like I was being grilled alive, turning over a roaring fire. I, the one who wouldn’t give up her seat, had become the villain everyone hated. My heart pounded like a drum. Part of me worried about what would happen if I gave up the seat, while the other part was tormented by agonizing guilt. Someone, save me. I looked at the guy sitting to my left. His blue athletic jacket had, at some point, changed into a black and white checkered shirt. His features began to distort under my gaze, twisting into a pixelated mess, like a glitch in a video game. Then, a crisp voice suddenly sounded in my ear. **【3. Don’t easily trust people in black and white checkered shirts. What they say could be true, or it could be a lie.】**

My breath hitched. My scalp tingled, every hair standing on end. My neck felt rusted, but I mechanically turned my head to look at the person on my right. She was a heavily pregnant woman, wearing a white maternity dress. A pregnant woman, in white… She had to be good, right? She *had* to be! I was just about to ask her for help. Then, a bizarre, lumpy shape began to press against her taut belly. I saw a tiny fist push out, then a small foot, and slowly, a miniature face appeared on her stomach. The scene suddenly became horrifying. The baby inside her belly became violently agitated. It tore through her round belly. Blood gushed out like a fountain, instantly soaking her white dress a horrifying crimson. A tiny, bloody, wrinkled baby crawled out from between her legs, dragging a long, slimy umbilical cord. It scrabbled across the floor, leaving a glistening trail of blood. It was sickening. I felt bile rise in my throat. She had turned into someone wearing red clothes. And at that very moment, I was staring right at her. **【4. Absolutely never trust people in red clothes. See red, look down. Avoid eye contact at all costs. They are devils, masters of manipulation.】**

This was insane! Everything was insane! I wanted off! I needed to escape this bus! I shoved past the other passengers, desperately hammering on the back door. “Open up! I need to get off! Open the door!” “I’m getting off!” “Let me out!” I screamed like a madwoman. The bus speakers announced, “Westside Lane Two, now arriving. Please exit through the rear door.” With a hiss, the door opened. Through a gap in the crowd, I saw Mr. Thorne turn to look at me. His eyes were a mix of pain, sadness, helplessness, and desperate pleading. I couldn’t take it anymore. I plunged off the bus without a second thought. The moment my feet hit the asphalt, a wave of relief washed over me. I looked back. The bus full of passengers watched me with innocent eyes. As the door closed and the bus began to move again, I saw chilling, knowing smiles spread across each of their faces through the window. At that moment, I didn’t understand why they were smiling. Not until a sharp pain shot through my ankle. I looked down. A skeletal hand, bits of decaying flesh clinging to it, crawling with maggots and glistening with green slime, was clamped tightly around my ankle. The asphalt beneath me began to crack and crumble, transforming into a churning sea of blood. Darkness enveloped everything. Thousands upon thousands of ghostly hands reached for me. They dragged my ankle, pulling me down into the bloody abyss. The only light in the darkness was the bus’s tail lights. In that moment, something clicked. I thrashed wildly, stretching my hand out, trying to claw my way back onto the bus. But more and more ghostly hands grabbed me. The bus slowly drove out of sight, and I was dragged down into hell.

I regretted so much not following those rules. I regretted it so, so much… Suddenly, a cacophony of voices reached my ears. “Stop pretending to be asleep! Can’t you see she’s holding a baby? Give her your seat!” “Seriously! You’re young, how can you be so sleepy? Get up and let her sit!” “Kids these days, no respect for their elders, no sense of decency.” “This generation is doomed! Absolutely hopeless!” … I opened my eyes, looking around. The endless chatter and pointing from the crowd… that’s when I slowly realized that everything I’d just experienced was a dream. But it felt so… terrifyingly real.

I looked at the woman with the baby, swaying unsteadily. I stood up, ready to help her into the seat. Suddenly, I saw Mr. Thorne staring at me, his eyes fixed on me with a chilling glint. My blood ran cold. My breath hitched. The pain in my ankle felt as real as if it were actually there. Cold sweat trickled down my temples. Better safe than sorry. I immediately sat back down. All the passengers on the bus, including the woman with the baby, glared at me with a mix of fury and disbelief. I bit down hard on my teeth, clenched my fists, and stayed silent in my seat. The woman stared intensely at me. Even though I felt like I was about to wet myself, I stared back, refusing to back down.

The woman hadn’t said a word, not one. It was like her eyes were trying to force me to give up my seat. My own gaze firmly screamed, “No way!” She stood there for a while until someone in the crowd finally waved her over. “Please, sit here. You can have my seat.” At this, a faint, chilling smile flickered on the woman’s otherwise impassive face. Holding her baby, and wearing those narrow, pointed blue embroidered shoes, she glided, rather than walked, taking tiny, almost imperceptible steps, swaying slightly as she went. The woman sat down. The young man who’d offered his seat, Alex, stood next to her and smiled reassuringly. Suddenly, the woman turned to him and said, “Thank you. Could you hold my baby for a moment? I need to find something.” Alex, being helpful, took the baby from her arms. I watched him for a long time. Everything seemed perfectly normal. Nothing happened. I suddenly felt so foolish. It was just a seat, what could happen? What was I even so scared of? It must be all the stress from school getting to me, making me hallucinate. I let out a long breath, leaned back in my seat, and decided to rest my eyes. Just two more stops, and I’d be there.

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I saw an art class girl being assaulted by someone weirdly dressed. I stepped in, saved her, and called the police. The next day, she accused *me* of being the attacker. She even claimed I forced her to make a false statement the day before. Then, the police took me away, and I lost my guaranteed spot at a top-tier university. My dad, who had a disability in his leg, wrote a desperate letter in his own blood, pleading my innocence, then took his own life outside her house. With insufficient evidence, I was released, but I’d lost my university admission and missed the college application deadline. My life was pretty much over. I drifted aimlessly for six months, then saw the art class girl and her actual assailant walking hand-in-hand. Furious, I charged over, demanding why she’d betrayed me. The attacker shoved me, and I was hit by a speeding car, sent flying. When I woke up again, I was back to the night it all happened. “Don’t touch me, or I’ll scream!” “Help! Someone, help me!” “Is anyone out there?!” I should be dead. Why could I still hear those screams from six months ago? Not far away, hidden in the bushes, a man in strange clothes was assaulting a helpless woman. It wasn’t just familiar; it was exactly the same scene. I stood frozen on the sidewalk. A car flashed its hazard lights and honked, shaking me out of my trance. I quickly moved to the other side of the road. In my past life, I saw Tiffany, a girl from my art class, being assaulted. My sense of justice flared, and I rushed over, throwing my backpack at the attacker’s head. The man clutched his head with one hand, pulling up his pants with the other, swearing as he left, not forgetting to threaten me, “Alex Miller from Year 11, right? I’ll remember you. You’ll pay for this!” It was Blake, the school’s resident jerk. I didn’t take his threat seriously. I took off my shirt to cover Tiffany, comforted her as she reeled from the trauma, and even encouraged her to call the police. When I got home, I told my dad about my heroic act. Years ago, my dad had his leg broken stepping in to help someone, but he never regretted it. He patted my shoulder proudly. “That’s my boy. I’m proud of you.” But the next day at school, Tiffany showed up with the police to arrest me. She was an acting student, alright. The tears flowed like a faucet, and she looked utterly distraught, enough to fool anyone. “Alex Miller assaulted me yesterday, and he threatened to kill my whole family if I ever told anyone.” She wiped her tears, glaring at me with venom. “The worst part is, he played the victim, making me out to be the hero, demanding our family give him a commendation banner in front of all the teachers and students.” It was like I’d been hit by a truck, completely disoriented. It wasn’t until I was in the police car that I reacted. “That’s not true! I helped you! I got rid of that guy and even comforted you. How could you betray me like this?” Her eyes were red, and she started crying again. “A girl’s reputation is everything. I wouldn’t joke about something like this.” Everyone seemed to believe her.

I became a pariah, a public enemy. It didn’t help that most people sided with her, the ‘victim.’ The online mob attacked me, and they doxxed my dad. They even claimed my dad’s heroic act years ago was just because he knew the kid he saved was from a rich family and he was trying to get a payout. I lost my guaranteed spot at a top-tier university and was expelled from school. My dad wrote a desperate letter in his own blood, then took his own life outside Tiffany’s house. The news blew up, and public outrage reached a fever pitch. The police reopened the investigation, and I was released, innocent. But no university would accept me anymore, and more importantly, I’d lost my dad, the only family I had. I drifted aimlessly for six months. Outside an apartment complex, I saw Tiffany and her real attacker, Blake, walking hand-in-hand. Furious, I charged over, demanding why she’d betrayed me like that. “How could I, just a regular person, fight against the heir of the Blake Corporation?” “If I hadn’t done what he said, my whole family would have been killed. I had no choice but to accuse you.” I yelled, “Do you know you ruined my entire life?!” “You’re still alive, aren’t you? So what if you went to an Ivy League school? You’d just end up working for rich people anyway.” “But my dad died!” She showed no remorse. “Everyone dies eventually. Better off dead, honestly.” I was so angry I grabbed her by the throat. Blake, who had been silent, yanked my collar. “Loser, hands off my girl!” He shoved me hard. I was hit by a speeding car, sent flying, and landed on the curb, dying instantly. Now, hearing those screams nearby, a bitter smile touched my lips. Not this time. No way I’m making that mistake again.

I walked to the night market. My dad was calling out to customers for his hot dogs. I hurried over to help. My mom died when I was born, and my dad never found another partner. After his leg was broken, no company would hire him. He also refused help from the person he saved. So, every night, he’d come to the night market to sell hot dogs, just to put me through school. Seeing his lean, busy figure, my heart ached. In my last life, I ruined everything for you, Dad. Not this time. I’m going to turn things around. I’ll go to the best university, get the best job, and make sure you can enjoy a comfortable retirement. But things didn’t go as I hoped. The next day at the school gate, Tiffany grabbed me and slapped me hard. “Why didn’t you help me last night?” I took a deep breath, then slapped her right back. I’m a guy, so my slap had force. She was stunned, covering her face. “You… you dared to hit me back.” “I’m not a doormat. Why would I just take it if you hit me?” “Why didn’t you help me yesterday?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Class starts soon. Please stop bothering me.” My expression was cold and distant as I clutched my books and walked inside. She rushed at me from behind, snatched my books, and threw them on the ground, stomping on them. “Are you working with him? Were you a lookout for him?” “You’re a despicable, disgusting person for not helping me! You deserve to die, just like him!” I pushed her away, bent down, and picked up my books. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “You ruined my reputation for life by not helping me! Don’t you know you’re wrong?” She unleashed all her frustration on me, like a madwoman. She lunged, pushed me down, and started clawing at my face. I wasn’t about to give her the chance. I used my hands and feet to push her away. Her face contorted in fury, and she rushed at me again. Other students who were passing by quickly intervened, pulling us apart, and then called Dean Miller.

Dean Miller was a big, imposing man with a stern look, and all the students were a little scared of him. He just stood there, and no one dared to make a sound. In my last life, everyone believed her, but he was the only one who comforted my distraught dad. His sharp eyes swept over us. “What’s going on? You have less than a month until exams. Do you want to disrupt everyone’s studies?” “Alex Miller has a guaranteed spot at a top-tier university. What about you? You, on the other hand, only qualified for some basic art program at a lesser-known college. What are you even making a fuss about?” Tiffany immediately got angry and said indignantly, “Dean, even though I’m an art student, I want to study hard too. Alex got into an Ivy League, but you can’t just cover for him because of that!” “Covering for him? I don’t cover for anyone. Come on, both of you. To my office, now, and explain everything!” In the office, Tiffany embellished the story of what happened last night. “So, you’re saying Alex Miller saw you being assaulted but ignored you. You were upset, so you confronted him at the school gate this morning, and a fight broke out?” Tiffany nodded. I said, “First, I didn’t hear any cries for help. Second, even if I did hear them and knew it was you, helping you would be an act of kindness, but not helping you is my right. Now you’re trying to twist the story and guilt-trip me? That’s messed up, isn’t it?” Thinking of what she did in my past life, I added, “You didn’t catch the real attacker, so you’re trying to blame the victim, aren’t you? Are you planning to say *I* was the one who assaulted you?” I wanted to cut off her escape route right then and there. Tiffany’s face turned bright red, and she shrieked, “You scumbag! How could you think that of me? And to think you’re a top student with a guaranteed spot at an Ivy League university! You’re worse than dirt!” “No matter how angry or upset you get, I can’t testify to something I didn’t see, and I won’t admit to something I didn’t do.” She was furious and lunged at me, trying to choke me… Dean Miller barked, “Enough! If you can’t sort this out, then call the police! You two are seriously wasting everyone’s time. What are you thinking, acting like this now?” Perhaps Dean Miller just said it casually, but Tiffany’s face immediately went pale, and her hands trembled. “If I call the police, my life will be over.”

I watched her coldly. “Since you don’t want to call the police, then deal with it yourself. High school students are busy; let’s not waste each other’s time.” Dean Miller nodded. “That’s right. You decide. Call the police or find another way to resolve this. It’s up to you.” Tiffany lowered her head, hesitant. She’d caused a scene at the school gate, and many students had seen and heard it. Word would spread like wildfire, and her story would quickly become public. In a small town like ours, news travels fast. And for a girl to go through something like this… people would talk, her reputation would be ruined, making it impossible for her to have a normal life or find someone to settle down with. But worse than any of that, the whispers and rumors are what truly destroy a person. After much thought, she nodded. “Alright. Call the police, then.” After an investigation, I was just a passerby, not even a witness, and was immediately released. But Tiffany screamed in the police station, “He must have seen the attacker! He didn’t help me; he just watched me get assaulted! He must be an accomplice; you can’t let him go!” The officers exchanged glances, clearly thinking she was out of line. “Alex Miller was just passing by, he wasn’t…” Tiffany interrupted the officer frantically, “Don’t think he’s a good person just because he got into an Ivy League. He might be the attacker’s accomplice! They might have teamed up to assault me together! People like him should be locked up!” She was completely irrational. The officers shook their heads repeatedly. “Don’t overthink this. This is a police station; it’s a place of fairness and justice. You can’t just falsely accuse people or make wild guesses. Based on your statements, this incident has nothing to do with Alex Miller. Unless you have evidence.” “I clearly saw him glance over at me! He must have seen it!” Dean Miller wanted to speak up for me, but I quickly gave him a look. If he spoke, Tiffany would surely think he was covering for me. My gaze was firm, and I said in a low voice, “I already told you I didn’t see anything. It was late at night; how could you possibly see that I saw it? Do you have telescopic vision?” “No, you definitely saw it! You’re an accomplice! An accomplice!”

The officers’ patience ran out. “Alright, that’s enough! Alex Miller, you can go. Tiffany, you stay here for further investigation.” Tiffany wasn’t happy. She sat directly on the floor, kicking her legs and waving her arms like a child throwing a tantrum, or a woman completely losing her mind. “You just think I’m an easy target because I’m a girl with no family or background! He clearly saw me being assaulted and just walked away! That’s wrong!” “He deliberately let me be humiliated! He deliberately wanted to see me embarrassed! People like him should go to hell!” “My life is ruined anyway, and even if it is, I’m taking someone down with me! Alex Miller, who did this, can’t get away with it!” … I rubbed my ears, watching her in exasperation. “I just passed by that road, and that makes me a criminal? That means I deserve to die? There must have been other people passing by that night; why don’t you go after them? Oh, I know! Because you and I are from poor backgrounds, with no one to back us up, so you just randomly accuse me?” The officer frowned, looking at the girl on the floor. “Tiffany, you’d better get up and cooperate with our investigation, or your behavior could constitute obstructing an officer in the line of duty, and the consequences will be severe…” Tiffany froze, then quickly stood up, embarrassed. “I… I was just angry and confused. I didn’t mean to obstruct you. Let’s continue, let’s continue.” I gave her a long, hard look, then turned and left. This time, things were already different from my last life. I hoped everything would continue on the right path. But the next day, right before school let out for lunch, Tiffany burst into the school with the police. I had just come out of the teaching building when I saw her approaching, and I froze. This scene was exactly like before. Was she going to put on another act? Sure enough, she and the police blocked my path. “Officers, this is Alex Miller, the man who assaulted me the night before last!”

I stood there, stunned. It had only been a day and a night since yesterday, and she had suddenly changed completely. In the crowd, I saw Blake, the person who had truly assaulted her that night. Someone nearby was holding a phone, starting to record. The more people there were, the straighter Tiffany stood, as if being assaulted wasn’t shameful now, but something to brag about. “It was him! That night, he had evil intentions towards me!” Besides the students leaving school, there were parents picking up their kids and passersby at the gate. Everyone leaned in, trying to catch what was being said. “Oh my god, Alex Miller, our class genius, is an attacker? That can’t be true!” “Yeah, he’s always so polite to girls. How could this happen?” “Some people just put on a holier-than-thou act, but deep down, their minds are rotten and their hearts are vicious.” “Tiffany is our school’s campus beauty; she was really… by her own classmate?” “Yesterday, Dean Miller took both of them to the police station; so that’s what it was about.” “I don’t believe Alex Miller would do something like this. He’s got a guaranteed spot at an Ivy League university, a bright future ahead of him. Why would he do something so disgusting? I’m with Alex Miller.” “Yeah, I also think Alex Miller is innocent. On the other hand, this campus beauty, Tiffany, has always used her looks to hook up with countless guys. Who knows who she was flirting with or who assaulted her?” … Everyone was chattering, but it was already different from my last life. In my past life, everyone watched as the police took me away. I was so nervous and scared that I didn’t know how to defend myself. Later, Blake even sent people to spread all sorts of rumors about me online, and all the students sided with her, convinced that I was the one who assaulted Tiffany. Actually, many people knew that Tiffany didn’t exactly have a clean reputation. Our families lived in the same complex, and on the way to and from school, I often saw her with different guys. So, I should thank her for throwing that tantrum at the school gate yesterday; it gave the students room to think. Plus, I was much calmer than in my last life. I knew how to explain and refute, and everything was slowly changing. I calmly looked at her. “Is the police station yours to command? Yesterday, your statement was that I was just passing by. How did I suddenly become the attacker today?” “You threatened me and made me say that.” Tiffany said it without batting an eye, looking at the officer beside her. “Quick, arrest him!” The officer took out handcuffs, ready to cuff me. Before I could speak, a tall, dark figure rushed over and blocked the officer. “I was at the police station yesterday too. Tiffany clearly stated then that the attacker was someone else. Why has she suddenly changed her story today? And you’re just going to put handcuffs on him, without any concrete

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Introduction：”Other hands hold me as I push my way into the depths, and the night of the moon’s night my lower back roar: ‘Your blood, your breath, your breath—the city just belongs to me.’” Since then, I have been blessed with a heavenly blessing, and I have been given a life-long wolf to protect my guardianship. Desperately running away, more than capable of running away from the bottom, ignoring the self-defeating Alpha story that is at its most dangerous. “Did you change my last name?” In the dark of the night, a man’s scorching breath caught my eye.. The evening before I was supposed to receive my mating certificate, Jasper Flynn, the wolf destined to be my mate, announced his decision to mark my best friend, Mireille Dalton, as his Luna. Betrayed by both my closest companion and the wolf I had once loved, I became the subject of gossip within the pack. Everyone waited eagerly for my downfall. Yet, Nolan Reed, the esteemed Beta of one of London’s most influential packs, appeared unexpectedly and proclaimed his desire to claim me as his mate. Without hesitation, I accepted his claim and stepped into the role of his Luna. Following our ceremony, I abandoned the dream I had spent years working toward. Instead, I devoted myself entirely to my new position, embodying the ideal Luna of the Reed Pack. Among the high-ranking she-wolves of the elite, I became someone they envied. During a pack gathering, I arrived to escort a drunken Nolan home, only to overhear his sister, a wolf of high standing, speaking of me with pity. “Nolan, the marketplace you built for Mireille’s pack is set to open soon, isn’t it? You’ve given up so much for her—even your bond with Selena was part of the scheme.” With a bitter chuckle, Nolan responded, “As long as Mireille finds happiness, I will clear every obstacle from her path.” The affection I had believed in, the devotion I had trusted—it had all been an illusion. I had been nothing more than a pawn in their elaborate game. That was the moment I decided to walk away. Accompanied by Irene Humphrey, Nolan’s most trusted warrior and aide, I made my way to the pack’s private lodge, carrying a bowl of herbal tonic meant to soothe his drunken state. A resident Omega informed me that Nolan was resting in the Alpha’s private chamber. As I reached for the door, the sharp scent of alcohol filled my senses. Through the half-open doorway, I heard a voice I recognized all too well. “Nolan, the trading grounds for Mireille’s pack will be operational soon. You’ve spent years making sacrifices for her, even arranging your bond with Selena as part of the plan. How long do you intend to keep lying to her?” My body stiffened. Just as I prepared to enter, Nolan’s slurred yet unmistakably bitter voice reached my ears. “As long as Mireille remains content, I can keep up the act indefinitely.” “For her sake, I will eliminate every obstacle.” It felt as though lightning had struck me, paralyzing my every movement. My hand hovered in the air, unable to complete its motion. Beside me, Irene cast a sideways glance, sympathy flickering in her eyes. Everyone had known the truth—except me. Time seemed to halt. The soft flute melody playing in the lodge suddenly grated on my nerves, a sound too piercing to bear. My world, once secure, now crumbled around me. “Selena adores you, Nolan. She has given you everything. What happens when she uncovers the truth?” “She never will.” Despite the warmth of the chamber, a chill crept through me. I turned to Irene and murmured, “Beta Nolan has had too much to drink. Give this to him later. I’ll be outside.” Then, as a quiet reminder, I added, “And make sure you don’t say anything you shouldn’t.” Stepping into the night, I sat outside, my eyes lost in the vast sky above our pack’s land. The full moon shone down, indifferent to my turmoil. Memories surfaced, unbidden and relentless. Jasper breaking our bond without warning. The scandal that followed. The humiliation that awaited me. And then, Nolan, stepping forward as my savior, telling the pack he had always loved me, marking me before them all. I had trusted his words. I had believed his promises. Our mating ceremony had been celebrated throughout the territory as a tale of love triumphing over adversity. Now, I saw the truth for what it was. A deception. A carefully crafted illusion. Inside, Irene helped Nolan into the black SUV waiting outside the lodge. His expression remained hazy for a brief moment before something sharpened behind his gaze. Then, he leaned his head against my shoulder. “It was just a pack meeting, Selena. You could have let Irene handle it.” I forced a small smile. “You shift unpredictably when you drink. I didn’t want you getting hurt.” Nolan exhaled, gripping my arm. “Mireille’s new trading grounds open tomorrow. I’ll be working late. Don’t stay up for me.” “There have been sightings of rogues along the borders. Stay vigilant.” That night, no matter how I turned in bed, sleep refused to come. Then, a sudden thought surfaced. I had left my moonstone charm in the study. Rising from bed, I entered the study. As I opened the drawer beneath the desk, the edge of several folded documents peeked out from within.

This had never happened before. His desk drawer was always locked. But this time, it wasn’t. Curiosity gnawed at me, and eventually, I gave in. I pulled the drawer open, expecting resistance. Instead, it slid effortlessly, revealing its contents. Inside lay detailed maps of the pack’s expanding territories—plans outlining future trading centers, alliance strongholds, and diplomatic outposts that Nolan’s pack had already established or intended to develop. Resting beside them was a small velvet box. I thumbed through the documents, scanning each carefully. Then, something caught my eye. Every trading post, every new settlement, even landmarks bore the same name—Dalton. Dalton Market. Dalton Lands. Dalton Jewelers. Although I was part of the Pack’s Strategic Development Council, Nolan had always assured me that he handled territorial affairs independently. I had seldom interfered. Yet now, the truth lay before me—every move he made, every political alliance he forged, had been dedicated to Mireille. Reaching for the small box, I flipped it open. The jewelry it once held was gone, yet the authenticity certificate remained inside. It was for a Cartier piece. The Cartier Sapphire and Diamond Necklace—the Moonstone Jewel. I had long admired that necklace. More than once, I had caught myself staring at it on my phone, scrolling back to it repeatedly. Yet, I had never owned it. I remembered the moment Nolan had dismissed the idea. “Selena, a necklace of that value isn’t suitable for a Luna to wear casually. Wouldn’t you prefer something more meaningful? I could commission a handcrafted silver pendant from our pack’s artisans.” And yet, only yesterday, Mireille had worn that exact necklace to her pack’s gathering. I stepped onto the Packhouse balcony, letting the icy night air bite at my skin. My vision blurred, moisture stinging my eyes. My phone vibrated. A message flashed across the screen. [Luna Hayes, are you certain about your decision?] I didn’t hesitate. [Yes. My mind is made up.] It was time to leave. At dawn, with my bags packed, I placed a call to Nolan. “I’m heading to Italy tonight.” A pause. Then, confusion tinged his voice. “That’s sudden. What’s going on?” Swallowing the bitterness rising in my throat, I forced a casual tone. “Some of the high-ranking she-wolves from New York planned a short trip, and I decided to join them.” He didn’t question it. Instead, he pressed a light kiss to my cheek, his wolf utterly unaware of the storm raging inside me. “Good. Enjoy yourself. Buy something nice.” I exhaled slowly, marveling at how effortlessly he could feign affection. But there was no need to pretend anymore. This game had run its course. Recalling the location of the newest trade hub from the documents, I drove there, knowing it would be the last time I set eyes on Nolan. At the gathering, a designated area had been prepared for the grand opening, and Nolan stood at the center of the event. Exuding confidence, he navigated conversations with every Alpha and high-ranking guest, seamlessly weaving through the crowd. Mireille, by contrast, wore an outfit designed to draw attention, her scent deliberately laced with dominance, her gaze seductive and knowing. She lifted her glass, her lips curling into a slow smirk. “Beta Reed, congratulations.” For a split second, something flickered in Nolan’s gaze—an emotion I couldn’t quite place. But just as quickly, his composed demeanor returned, and he clinked his glass against hers. “Alpha Dalton, your contributions to the design have been invaluable. The Dalton Trade Hub is already attracting key alliances on its first day.” He deliberately emphasized ‘our trade hub,’ and the words coiled around my chest like a vice. I stepped forward. At the sight of me, Nolan’s surprise was fleeting before his mask of control slipped back into place. “Why are you here?” Feigning nonchalance, I offered a smile. “What’s wrong? Am I not welcome at my own pack’s event?” He set his glass down. Something about my tone must have unsettled him, but he chose to ignore it. “Of course not. But you dislike large gatherings. I didn’t expect you to come.” Beside him, Mireille observed me with quiet amusement, her smirk deepening as though she knew exactly why I had come. Just then, Irene, the pack’s head strategist, approached, lowering her head in deference before addressing my mate. “Beta Reed, your speech is about to begin.” Nolan turned to me. “Find a seat and rest. I won’t be long.” Without another word, he strode toward the stage. I picked up a small piece of sweetbread, taking my time before sitting down. Mireille, naturally, couldn’t resist. With an arrogant sway in her step, she sauntered over, her voice dripping with mock affection. “Long time no see, Selena. My dear, dear friend.”

Mireille smirked. “What’s this? Keeping tabs on me now?” “If you’re that insecure, why not mark Nolan properly so he stays put?” “How does it feel, sitting on a throne that was never meant for you?” “You should never forget—you will always be beneath me.” She laughed—a melodic yet mocking sound that rang in my ears. The Cartier necklace—the Moonstone Jewel—glinted under the sun, resting elegantly against her collarbone. That sight pierced me deeper than I cared to admit. Once, Mireille had been my closest friend. I had believed our bond unshakable, that our shared dreams of shaping the pack’s future through architecture and development would unite us forever. But then, Jasper, my fated mate, shattered everything. He severed our bond and chose Mireille instead, leaving me with nothing but pain. To be betrayed by my mate and my closest friend—it was agony beyond words. Just when I thought I would drown in that darkness, Nolan emerged, offering me a lifeline. For the first time in months, I saw a glimmer of hope. At first, everything seemed to fall into place. Nolan claimed me as his mate, and I accepted, believing our future would be built on trust. I was preparing for an international architecture competition when he suddenly told me, “Selena, you don’t have to burden yourself with work anymore. Just focus on being my Luna. I’ll take care of you, of your family, of everything.” His words moved me deeply. Trusting in his promise, I sold my pack-funded architecture firm, walking away from the career I had fought so hard to build. Not only that, I withdrew from the competition entirely. In the end, the champion of that prestigious event was Mireille. From that moment on, the woman who had once been my friend became an internationally celebrated strategist and architect, while I was reduced to nothing more than Nolan’s Luna—known not for my own talents, but as the Beta’s mate. Now, looking back, the truth was painfully clear—Nolan had been paving the way for Mireille all along. My gaze lifted to the expansive layout of the new trading post. The structural design was strikingly familiar—so much so that for a moment, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. But there were subtle differences, as if someone had taken my blueprint and altered it just enough to make it seem unique. My heart pounded violently. There was a project file I had abandoned years ago, stored on my personal pack-linked server. Since stepping away from my career, I had never so much as glanced at it. So how had my design—one I had left untouched for years—become Mireille’s? And why had Nolan transformed it into this trading hub? Forcing down the surge of emotions, I turned to Mireille, ready to confront her. But before I could speak, her voice rang out, sharp and panicked. “Selena! What are you doing? Do you want me to lose my pup?!” “Ah!” Before I could react, Mireille suddenly collapsed, clutching her stomach as her face contorted in pain. Gasps rippled through the crowd. “Get the healer!” “Someone fetch the medic wolves!” A flurry of movement followed as wolves gathered, their eyes flickering between Mireille and me, their expressions laden with judgment. In the chaos, my gaze locked onto a figure rushing forward—a figure I knew all too well. “Mireille!” It was my mate. The man I had shared a den with for three years. Nolan’s face was lined with worry as he descended from the ceremonial stage. But what did he do? He shoved me aside. Without hesitation, he crouched beside Mireille, his voice urgent, his hands steadying her trembling form. “Are you alright?”

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My half-sister was reborn. She predicted a zombie outbreak, the end of the world, in two months. My husband and his whole family believed her. They went crazy hoarding supplies, even spending a fortune to turn their out-of-town estate into an impregnable fortress. My husband blew through all his savings and then borrowed from loan sharks. I clutched at his leg, begging him to stop, but he just kicked me out with nothing but a signed divorce agreement. Two months later, my husband called, scoffing, “The first infected person is about to appear. If you don’t want to die, come kneel at the mansion gates. Vivian is kind, she might just let you in.” But on the predicted day, the apocalypse never came. That’s when they finally panicked. **Chapter 1** I jolted awake from a nightmare, my phone ringing. “Ms. Harper, today is the deadline for your mother’s burial plot renewal. If you don’t renew it, her ashes will have to be removed.” I was on a business trip out of town. My hand trembling, I called my husband, Zane, urging him to renew it quickly, to not let anyone disturb my mother’s peace. Still shaken, I leaned back in my chair, the dream’s images still swirling in my mind. Two months later, a zombie crisis, erupting from City A, would sweep across the globe, turning the entire world into a living hell. During the outbreak, my family was trapped in our remote mansion. We waited two months, and just as we were completely out of supplies, the army finally arrived for rescue. Tears of joy streamed down my face. I urged my family to hurry and drive away with the army, but my sister, Vivian, insisted on putting on her makeup before she’d leave. As the army’s departure time drew closer, I wanted to drag her out, but Zane blocked my way. “What’s wrong with Vivian, a girl, wanting to look pretty before she leaves? It’s the army’s job to serve the people, so what if they wait a bit?” My father, Arthur, and stepmother, Martha, nodded in agreement, calmly sitting back down. I was in disbelief, but I didn’t have time to waste on them. I turned to leave, but Zane grabbed me, saying a family should stay together. He snatched my car keys. Finally, as Vivian leisurely applied her eyeliner, the zombie horde suddenly attacked. We couldn’t retreat in time and were all torn apart by zombies. The phantom pain of being bitten by zombies still lingered on my skin. Now that I had a chance to do it all over again, I absolutely wouldn’t make the same mistake twice! When my plane landed, I felt a faint unease. I changed direction halfway and headed to the cemetery. To my shock, a brand new tombstone, engraved with an unfamiliar name, stood on my mother’s plot. The staff looked bewildered. “After we called you last time, no one renewed the plot. To avoid any mistakes, we even notified your father. He specifically said not to renew it and that we could dispose of the ashes however we pleased.” A chill ran through me. My heart ached painfully. I went crazy, searching through countless unclaimed urns in the warehouse until midnight, finally returning home clutching a small, cold urn. I hadn’t been home for half a month, and the sight that greeted me in the entryway left me stunned, unable to recover for a long time. My cozy home, which I’d meticulously decorated, now looked like a frozen cave. All the appliances and furniture were gone. The beige curtains I’d carefully chosen were half-torn down, draped over the dirty floor. My husband, Zane, was directing the housekeepers to take down our wedding photo, which had hung on the wall for three years, and casually throw it in a corner. “What are you doing?” The scene before me made me feel like I was dreaming. After a long moment, I managed to squeeze out a question. A flicker of panic crossed Zane’s eyes. “Harper, why are you back so suddenly…?” I stared at him, my fingers trembling as I clutched the urn. “If I hadn’t come back early, how would I have known my mother’s grave had been dug up?” Zane’s usually gentle face showed a hint of helplessness, as if he were looking at an unreasonable child. “You don’t understand, Vivian was reborn from the future! The world ends in two months, and every penny in this house needs to be spent wisely. Wouldn’t it be better to buy more food with the money for the cemetery renewal? Why are you still being so difficult at a time like this?” **Chapter 2** It clicked then; Vivian had been reborn too. But I didn’t let it show on my face. I clenched my fists, my voice filled with anger and disbelief. “You actually believe Vivian’s talk about the end of the world? You’ve all gone insane!” “Dad’s company landed several big projects thanks to my predictions!” Vivian strutted down the stairs, looking cocky. “All the money earned from that was used by Dad to buy an entire warehouse of common medicines. Those will be more valuable than gold in the apocalypse.” Her eyes held a sneer. She moved close to Zane, delicately caressing his flat stomach. “I might as well tell you the truth, I’m already carrying Zane’s baby. If you’re smart, you’ll serve me well. In the apocalypse, I might even spare you a bowl of food.” My icy gaze flickered between their faces. It looked like they’d been having an affair long before the apocalypse was supposed to hit. Zane suddenly felt a chill run through him. “Harper, we’ve been married for three years and you haven’t had a child. I’m an only son, you need to consider carrying on my family name.” Only son, my foot. This nobody from nowhere acting like he had a royal lineage to pass down. I scoffed, pulling the plain silver ring off my finger and tossing it at Zane’s feet. “Since you put it that way, I definitely need to consider your family’s royal lineage. Since Vivian says there are two months left, let’s hurry and finalize our divorce before the end of the world.” Zane stared intently at the wedding ring I’d just discarded like trash, his brows furrowed. Our family backgrounds were vastly different. After he graduated college, I willingly gave up everything to help him start his business. We huddled together in a cramped, damp basement, finding warmth in each other. To make money, I worked five jobs a day, my hands raw and aching from washing dishes in freezing water, even in the dead of winter. He used the first money he earned to buy me this ring, a simple silver band with just a tiny chip of diamond embedded in it. Later, his business took off, and I, with my impressive qualifications, successfully joined a prestigious medical research institute. Yet, I still cherished that ring like a precious treasure. My reaction clearly caught him off guard. Zane could no longer keep up his gentle facade, looking utterly incensed. “Harper, stop throwing a tantrum! At a time like this, our family needs to unite to overcome this difficulty. Perfect, tomorrow, you should go around and borrow money from all your friends and colleagues. You’re well-liked, borrowing a few million shouldn’t be a problem!” I sneered, too lazy to bother with such absurd talk, and walked straight upstairs to rest. But when I woke up the next day, I was shocked to find my room door wide open, and my entire wardrobe, filled with all my gold, silver jewelry, and designer bags, was gone. I bit down hard on my lower lip, sharply demanding Zane where my things had gone. He acted completely unconcerned. “You were sleeping soundly, I didn’t want to wake you. Those jewelry and bags are useless anyway. Selling them means we can buy a few more bags of rice.” I could barely contain the rage bubbling within me. “What about the gold ring under my pillow? That was my mother’s only keepsake!” Zane’s voice faltered, then he sighed. “Harper, your mother passed away so many years ago. But you still have your father, Vivian is your blood relative, and I’m your family too. Why can’t you make some sacrifices for your own family?” His casual, entitled tone shredded what little sanity I had left. I suddenly burst out laughing, but big tears rolled down my cheeks. His breathing hitched. He wanted to say more, but I pushed him out of the room. I collapsed amidst the chaos on the floor, tears streaming uncontrollably, yet a helpless smile curved on my lips. **Chapter 3** Luckily, to be safe, I had secretly sold my most valuable jewelry under the cover of night, leaving only the cheap trinkets Zane had bought me and a few eye-catching designer bags. When Zane had to personally move the wardrobe so as not to wake me, a full ten million dollars had already landed in my bank account. But I never imagined he would stoop so low as to steal my mother’s keepsake to sell for money. The hatred from the previous life, where he had personally dragged me into a dead end, surged within me. I silently wiped away my tears, a plan slowly forming in my mind. Since your whole family is united in preparing for the apocalypse, how could I not lend a hand? After some time, my phone rang again, the caller ID showing one of my father’s company shareholders. “Harper, get to the company quickly! Your father’s gone mad! He’s going to sell all his shares!” My heart tightened. I rushed over, only to find my father, Arthur, and Vivian confronting a group of shareholders. This company was founded by my parents together. For it to become an industry giant today, my mother had poured her heart and soul into it. I couldn’t let him ruin it like this. My father saw me, his eyes lighting up. “You’re just in time! Hurry and transfer your shares too, and give me the money to reinforce the mansion.” Vivian lifted her head proudly, looking at me as if I were already dead. In her eyes, I had neither the good fortune of being reborn nor the willingness to humble myself, so I was doomed. Her family would stay in their impenetrable fortress, laughing at my miserable end. The shareholders were all company veterans, caught completely off guard by my father’s sudden move. Fearing he was being scammed, they clamored to dissuade him from doing something foolish. “If you don’t want the company to have problems, there’s another solution.” Zane walked quickly towards me, a polished smile playing on his lips. “You just need to buy out your father’s shares.” My fingers clenched so tightly my nails almost pierced my palm, my knuckles white. Zane’s expression was as calm as if he were discussing tomorrow’s weather, yet his words were like a dull knife, slowly carving into my heart. Vivian scoffed. “Her? Want to buy out Dad’s shares? Does she even have that kind of money?” Cold sweat trickled down my back. I couldn’t believe my former husband had schemed to this extent. My father had set the price very low for a quick sale, and all my liquid and illiquid assets barely amounted to enough. “So, even if it means spending your entire fortune, you want to keep this company, right?” Zane whispered softly in my ear. His voice was gentle as always, yet it felt like steel blades piercing me. He watched me with keen interest, like he was sizing up prey he was sure to capture. In two months, companies and shares would be nothing but garbage. And now, he wanted to squeeze every last bit of value from me using this garbage. After the apocalypse, if I wanted to survive, I’d have to swallow every humiliation and humbly bow at his feet. My gaze fixed on Zane’s utterly hypocritical face, my own pale and bloodless. “It’s a deal!” The paperwork was quickly done. My father, smugly thinking he’d offloaded a huge burden, had no idea he was giving up their last lifeline. Ever since my father remarried, the company shares had been tightly clutched by my stepmother. She never imagined there would be a day she’d hand them over to me on a silver platter. Vivian triumphantly announced that they had sold all their properties, and the whole family had moved into the out-of-town estate. The cash from selling all their assets was transformed into bags of rice and instant noodles in the warehouse, and long-lasting potatoes, winter melons, and cabbages in the cold storage. Construction crews were working feverishly at the mansion, building various illegal structures. Vivian smiled proudly, “When the zombies attack, these watchtowers will be the best observation points.” I snorted, about to leave, but Zane wouldn’t let me go. He forcibly dragged me away. A burly man with a scarred face looked me up and down, his lecherous gaze making me incredibly uncomfortable. “This is Mrs. Zane, quite the looker.” The man rubbed his hands together and placed a contract in front of me. “Mr. Zane is in a hurry to borrow fifty million. We don’t exactly distrust him. But we’d appreciate Mrs. Zane signing too. If something unexpected happens, a wife should naturally help pay it back, right?” **Chapter 4** Before I could even speak, Zane pulled me aside. “In two months, who’s going to care about these debts! Just sign it quickly! The things we’re hoarding can save lives! By then, even the government will be begging us to sell supplies. What’s this small amount of money compared to that?” He was already this insane, even borrowing from loan sharks. He was truly seeking his own destruction. I scoffed internally, but put on a heartbroken expression. I clutched his leg, pleading repeatedly, “You’ve taken all our money and gambled it away! Please, I beg you, come to your senses! You won’t be able to pay back a loan shark!” The man instantly became wary. Fifty million wasn’t a small sum. If Zane really gambled it all away, even dismembering him wouldn’t help. Seeing the money about to slip away, Zane was furious. He kicked me away. “Bitch, what nonsense are you spewing!” Vivian gracefully stood by Zane’s side, smiling with pursed lips. “Zane, Harper said she wants a divorce, so she’s hardly Mrs. Zane anymore, is she? I’ll sign it.” Zane glared at me, immediately scribbled a divorce agreement, and threw it in my face. I was almost laughing from pure rage. Every clause stated that all marital property was unrelated to me, meaning I was to leave with nothing. Though, given the current situation, there wasn’t much left of our marital property anyway. I added a clause at the end of the agreement. Zane scoffed, agreeing without a second thought. A month later, clutching my freshly issued divorce certificate, I felt a sense of immense relief, completely unfazed by Zane’s grim, thunderous expression. Time trickled by, drawing closer to the date Vivian constantly chattered about. Zane and the Arthur family believed they had made all the necessary preparations, and their actions became increasingly reckless.

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After I donated a kidney to the man Chloe truly loved, my girlfriend, who had given me the silent treatment for a month, finally agreed to make up. She even arranged a get-together with drinks as a reward. Her best friend, Brittany, chuckled, “Chloe, you really know how to play your cards. Liam isn’t just obedient, he’s totally devoted to you. Such a good man, are you really going to let him go and marry Julian instead?” Chloe scoffed, a cold sneer on her face. “He’s nothing but a placeholder. The only reason I haven’t gotten bored all these years is because of his face—it’s a near-perfect double for Julian’s.” Their eyes met, and they shared a knowing smile. “Then why not have Liam be a groomsman at the wedding? At least it wouldn’t be a total waste of him following you for eight years.” Chloe let out a dismissive laugh. “A joke! What’s his status? Does he really think he’s fit to stand next to Julian?” “This little gathering is just a pat on the back for helping Julian out. Consider it a thank you for all his devotion to me over the years.” I’d heard Chloe’s entire monologue right outside the door. When I calmly pushed it open, I didn’t argue. She had no idea. Today was the last day I was *her* placeholder. Tomorrow, the girl I’d always loved was coming back.

The moment I stepped inside, everyone’s eyes locked on me. A shared look of disdain flickered across their faces. I took it all in, though I plastered on a clueless expression as I handed Chloe the dessert she’d specifically asked for. The next second, her face hardened, and her words sent the room’s atmosphere plunging to freezing point: “Liam, the ice cream’s completely melted. You bring it to me now? Are you intentionally trying to gross me out?” Before her words even finished, the dessert—which I’d waited an hour in line for and walked two miles to get her—was violently slammed into the trash can. I glanced down. The ice cream was barely soft, it hadn’t melted enough to affect the taste at all. Brittany, Chloe’s best friend, saw this and handed me a drink, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You clearly don’t care much about our dear Chloe, do you? Why don’t you chug three glasses as a penalty to prove your sincerity?” Others chimed in, their faces twisted into mocking grins. I touched the bandage wrapped around my lower back, hesitated for a moment, then took the glass and downed it in one go. As soon as I set the glass down, Brittany handed me another one, brimming full. I frowned instantly, not reaching for it. That first glass had pushed my body to its limit. If I drank any more, something serious would happen. I looked at Chloe, hoping she’d explain my situation. But she just watched, a cold mask on her face, with no intention of speaking up for me. Brittany saw my hesitation and sneered, “Chloe, looks like your boyfriend isn’t all that devoted after all, is he? Just two measly drinks, and he’s dragging his feet.” Chloe shot me a cold, displeased glare, then stepped forward and slapped me across the face. “Liam, what’s your problem today? Usually, you can hold your liquor just fine!” “And here I was, so kind as to throw a party to reward you! Is this how you treat me? You won’t even drink three glasses for me!” At her words, I turned my head, my eyes darkening. I’d thought that after I’d sacrificed a kidney, she’d change her usual bossy attitude toward me. But no, it only got worse. She completely forgot I couldn’t drink now. I met her gaze, gently reminding her, “Chloe, my kidney incision hasn’t healed. Don’t you know I can’t drink?” Her eyes flickered with surprise, but it quickly vanished in the dim light of the room. Then she said indifferently, “Can’t drink just because you donated a kidney? Do you think everyone in this room is stupid? If you want to avoid drinking, find a better excuse.” Brittany chimed in sarcastically, “Exactly! I see everyone else drinking just fine. Why can’t you? Or are you just refusing on purpose? All this liquor on the table, it’s Chloe’s heartfelt gesture for you.” As she spoke, a full table of drinks appeared, nearly a hundred glasses. Seeing the cold indifference on her face, with no thought for my well-being, I immediately decided to turn and leave. But Chloe’s clique wasn’t about to let me walk away. They ordered someone to hold me down and force-fed me the liquor. The strong alcohol burned my throat and chest, a tearing, agonizing pain. I frantically looked to Chloe for help, but she just watched, a detached observer, as if I were a stranger. Just when I thought I was going to be completely ruined by these people, Chloe, who’d been as still as a statue, finally moved. The next second, she walked over and grabbed the glass that was being forced into my mouth. I thought she’d finally had a change of heart, that she was going to stop this absurd charade. Instead, she said coldly, “Hold on a minute, Julian’s calling.” The moment she answered the phone, Chloe became soft and gentle, like a completely different person. “Okay, I’m heading out to get you dessert now. Wait for me.” At that moment, a wave of dizziness washed over my head, and my consciousness began to fade. Just as Chloe hung up, I collapsed right in front of her. Everyone else started to panic. Chloe frowned, glanced at me, then at the two-thirds of untouched drinks on the table, and said with utter disdain: “Don’t mind him. He’s just faking it, trying to get out of drinking.” “I need to go get dessert for Julian. I’m leaving.” Chloe walked out without a backward glance. Brittany then kicked me twice. When I still didn’t react, she finally realized something was wrong and scurried away in a panic. The others, seeing this, also found excuses to slip away. I was left alone, abandoned in the room. Eventually, it was the cleaning lady who called 911 for me. When I woke up, my phone suddenly vibrated with a new message.

It was from Julian. I tapped it open, and there it was: a picture of him and Chloe with their marriage certificate. My fingers clenched. I stared at the photo, frozen, until the screen went dark. All these years Chloe and I had been together, for various reasons, we’d unspokenly avoided any talk of marriage. We’d fallen in love at first sight, our feelings growing rapidly. In our social circles, we were considered the “perfect couple.” We hiked together, camped together, even traveled together. We did everything a typical couple would do. I thought I’d live happily ever after. I just never imagined those days would end so soon. I started noticing her demands becoming stranger, but I indulged her, letting her have her way, not thinking too much of it. At first, she just wanted to control my outfits. I figured she thought my style was bad, so I just let her. Later, she escalated to controlling my preferences, dictating my manners, and even specifically hiring a private coach for me. That’s when I started to suspect something. After a little digging, I learned about Julian. Only then did I understand that everything she’d done for me before was actually for Julian. From that point on, I often felt that when she looked at me, she was looking *through* my eyes, at someone else. For eight long years, we never acknowledged the unspoken truth. Until Julian returned to the country. Once he knew I existed, he pulled out all the stops to impress Chloe. He repeatedly mocked me, saying I was nothing more than his stand-in. Photos like the one I just received? I’d lost count of how many I’d gotten. Chloe pushed the door open, wrinkling her nose as she stepped in, a thermal container in her hand. Her voice was dismissive. “I thought you were dead. Didn’t expect you to have so many lives.” She saw my gaze land on the container in her hand and said coldly, “I spent all afternoon making this chicken soup for Julian. It’s not for you. Besides, you’re awake now, so you don’t need it anyway.” She paused, her eyes darkening, then forced a sweet smile. “Since you’re fine, then the cake for Julian’s birthday tomorrow is on you. Don’t disappoint me again.” Before I could answer, she walked out, carrying the thermal container. She’d always been like that with me. I’d grown used to it over the years. She’d once hired a private pastry chef to teach me, wanting me to be more like Julian. I’d picked up the basics. But of all the elaborate desserts I’d made for her, not once was she satisfied. She even took a cake I’d spent an entire day on and fed it to a dog. She’d coldly glanced at the mess on the floor and declared without shame, “Liam, you’re truly useless. You can’t even handle such a small thing. You really can’t even hold a candle to Julian.” Thinking of this, I called out to her, “Don’t you dislike the cakes I make?” She turned to face me, her voice impatient. “If Julian hadn’t specifically asked you to make it, do you think you’d even have the chance?” She was right. If it weren’t for Julian, she’d probably make it herself, or at the very least, order a custom one. There’s no way it would fall to me. Before I could open my mouth again, all that was left was the sound of the door slamming shut. Smelling the lingering scent of chicken soup that didn’t belong in my hospital room, I suddenly remembered Julian’s room was just one floor above mine. One floor away, he was in a luxurious VIP suite with full amenities and gourmet recovery meals. He certainly didn’t need Chloe’s measly bowl of chicken soup. And me, her placeholder? The moment I was pushed out of the operating room, Chloe had intended to leave me to recover on a gurney in the hallway. It was only after my surgeon strongly insisted, and she got annoyed, that she grudgingly got me the cheapest, cramped room, barely a yard from the bathroom, where the constant stench assaulted my senses. Just then, a nurse pushed the door open and said coldly, “Liam, bed 12? Someone’s handled your discharge papers. Please pack up and leave quickly. Someone will be here to sanitize the room in half an hour.” I froze, looking up at my unfinished IV drip. I hadn’t expected Chloe to act so fast, unable to wait even an afternoon. I ripped out my IV line, enduring the discomfort in my body, quickly packed my meager belongings, and prepared to leave the hospital. The moment I stepped out of the hospital, I received a demanding message from Chloe: “Go to the bakery immediately. I’ve already arranged for the cake ingredients to be prepared. Text me when it’s done.” I stopped, read the message, then tapped my screen and calmly deleted it. This cake? Consider it my wedding gift to them. I’d just hung up the phone with the artisan bakery when a SnapChat message popped up. I assumed it was Julian again, flaunting something Chloe had done for him, and I was about to block him. The next second, my top SnapChat conversation vibrated with a new message: “I land tonight. Can you pick me up?” Seeing the familiar tone of voice, I was a little stunned. I pinched myself hard, thinking I was seeing things. I only had two pinned conversations on SnapChat: Chloe’s, and that of the girl I’d always loved since my youth. In the eight years I’d been with Chloe, she never spoke to me with such patience. In my memory, only she spoke to me like that. But didn’t she say she was moving abroad permanently and would never come back? If she hadn’t made that decision back then, things wouldn’t be like this between us now. After all, I’d confessed my feelings to her. I stared at the message for a long time, composing myself before quietly replying with a single word: “Okay.”

After putting my phone away, I grabbed the flowers and headed straight to the airport, completely forgetting everything Chloe had told me to do. It wasn’t until later that night, when Chloe hadn’t received the cake I was supposed to make and her meticulously planned birthday party for Julian was ruined, that she blamed it all on me. She stormed in, Julian following behind her. She kicked the door open, slamming it against the wall, and screamed: “Liam, how many times is this? What new stunt are you pulling now? Where’s the cake I told you to make?!” I glanced at the door, still rattling from her kick, and replied calmly with two words: “I forgot.” Chloe saw my demeanor and instantly erupted. The thought that Julian had been humiliated because I hadn’t shown up with the cake made her furious. She stepped forward and slapped me twice, yelling: “Do you have any idea how much you embarrassed Julian? Everyone was whispering and pointing at him! And here he was, still concerned about your feelings, telling me not to get mad at you!” “Julian is such a good person, why would you treat him like this?!” “I’m giving you half an hour. You *will* make a cake to apologize, or I swear, I’m not done with you!” With that, she slammed the door shut and left. Watching her defiant back, I couldn’t help but think of my own birthdays. She’d never been this invested. I never got the special treatment a birthday person deserves. Instead, I had to bake *her* a cake, and if it wasn’t to her liking, I’d be punished with standing all night. I let out a bitter laugh. As I walked out of the room, I saw her sitting in the living room, meticulously peeling an orange for Julian, carefully removing every bit of pith before handing it to him. Julian saw me but didn’t make a sound. Instead, he smirked triumphantly as he took the orange from Chloe and ate it. “Chloe, let’s set our wedding for three days from now, okay?” Julian asked gently, but his eyes were fixed on me, full of triumph. Chloe, her back to me, said dotingly, “Okay, whatever you say.” Hearing this, his grin widened, and he asked again: “How about we invite Liam to our wedding? What do you think?” This time Chloe didn’t answer immediately. Julian saw the hesitation on her face. He instantly pouted, sounding wronged. “I just want his blessing. That way our wedding will be perfect, and you always said you’d give me a perfect wedding, didn’t you?” Chloe fell silent at his words. Then, remembering something, she nodded in agreement. Julian’s lips curved into a smirk, and he looked at me. “Liam, did you hear that? Chloe and I sincerely invite you to our wedding.” At his words, Chloe turned her cold face back to me. Her eyes seemed to freeze for a moment when she saw me, then she scoffed. “Since you heard it, I won’t repeat myself. Be there on time, don’t make us a laughingstock again.” I clenched my fists, meeting Chloe’s indifferent gaze. Eight years of my devotion, and in the end, I didn’t even get a formal breakup. I gave a self-deprecating laugh, then nodded. On the day of the wedding, I showed up dressed to the nines. The moment the newlyweds appeared, they became the center of attention. Guests lavished them with praise, calling them a match made in heaven. Chloe accepted it all with a radiant smile, but when her eyes landed on me, that smile vanished instantly. Chloe’s face turned sour, and she frowned, accusing me, “Liam, are you trying to steal Julian’s spotlight by dressing like that? Don’t forget, today is Julian’s and my wedding. Julian is the groom!” “I knew this would happen; I shouldn’t have agreed to let you come! I thought you’d know your place, but I never imagined you’d stoop to such lengths just to cause drama!” At her words, murmurs rippled through the guests. Those who didn’t know me accused me of being shameless. Those who did vowed to kick me out. Julian, however, wasn’t angry. He even generously spoke up for me, “Chloe, if he wants to be my groomsman, then let’s let him. It’s a way of thanking him for taking care of you all these years, and it justifies his outfit today.” With that, Julian shot me a provocative look. Chloe frowned, about to argue, but then heard the whispers around her and reluctantly gave in. She checked her watch and said with extreme reluctance, “Aren’t you going to get ready? Is this where you’re supposed to be standing?!” A staff member came forward to escort me away. Before I’d taken two steps, Julian’s voice stopped them from behind: “Wait. His outfit is actually quite good. How about we have him deliver our wedding rings later?” At his words, my body stiffened. Deliver the wedding rings. That’s what the ring bearer does. Was he trying to make me watch them exchange vows, then watch Chloe marry him with my own eyes? I glanced at Chloe. She said nothing, a silent agreement. The ceremony began quickly. Watching Chloe on stage, touched to tears by Julian’s words, I couldn’t help but sneer. The stage was set. It was time for the main act. Chloe, let’s see how long you can keep that smile. The next second, the officiant excitedly announced, “Now, let’s give a big round of applause for our special guest who will present the wedding rings to the happy couple…” A thunderous applause erupted. The couple on stage smiled, filled with joy, waiting for me to bring them their rings. I smirked, took the gift box from the staff member, and slowly walked forward. I heard the whispers around me, but with each step, I moved further away from the altar. Moments later, I turned and knelt on one knee in front of a slender, unfamiliar woman. The entire hall gasped in shock. Chloe, realizing what she was seeing, instantly turned pale, losing her composure as she shrieked: “Liam, do you know what you’re doing?!”

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My husband cheated. The other woman was a new intern under him. He bought her a house, a car, paraded her in front of his parents, and even threw a lavish wedding. Everything but the actual marriage certificate was hers. He even had our own son, Leo, walk as their ring bearer on their wedding day. Liam called me cold, too engrossed in my career, neglecting him and our home. Even Leo echoed him, claiming I was no mother, devoid of affection. Apparently, I was destined to be a terrible wife, a horrible mother, so I graciously—or perhaps bitterly—stepped aside. Now, let’s see if this ‘perfect’ replacement truly satisfies them. Today was Liam Caldwell’s wedding day. Even Leo wasn’t home. He’d just posted on Ins five minutes ago. “Dad and Mom’s wedding, our happy family!” The post featured a photo of the three of them, beaming, a picture of pure domestic bliss. Anyone seeing it would have gushed, ‘Goals! Relationship perfection!’ But two of the three people in that photo were undeniably my husband and my child. Even through the picture, I could see the dazzling jewels Brittany Hayes wore. That necklace alone must have cost a fortune—hundreds of thousands, easily. Far better than what I got. When Liam and I married, we were fresh out of college, flat broke. We barely scraped together a few hundred dollars between us. Back then, he’d never tire of telling me, “Eleanor, just wait for me. I’ll make something of myself, I promise I’ll give you a good life.” Later, Leo was born, and his company took off. In just five short years, it successfully went public, and his net worth skyrocketed. We no longer had to fret over monthly rent, or whether we’d eat our next meal. We didn’t need to work endless side jobs just to earn a few extra bucks. But sadly, the man who once earnestly promised me a good life was gone. Now, it was Brittany Hayes who held his heart. I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh, then hailed a cab to his company. Perhaps because of the wedding, he’d given everyone at the company the day off to attend, leaving only Mr. Henderson, the building’s security guard, at the front. He seemed surprised to see me, his expression tinged with pity. Yet, he still managed to say, “Madam Caldwell, you’re here?” See? Even the security guard remembered I was Madam Caldwell. So why could Liam so openly invite the entire company to his wedding with Brittany Hayes? Why was Leo so thrilled to welcome his new mother? I smiled and nodded, saying little, just walking into the company building. When Liam first started his company, he brought me here, slinging an arm around me, gesturing grandly. “Look! This whole empire I built for you.” I stayed by his side, watching it grow from a tiny studio into an entire building. I witnessed its meteoric rise, and it, in turn, witnessed our tangled web of love, hate, and betrayal—mine, Liam’s, and Brittany’s. Soon, it would witness my death. I sat by the entrance, recalling everything from the past, my breath growing shallower. Noticing my distress, Mr. Henderson frantically dialed 911. The last thing I felt was my consciousness fading, my body slumping sideways. I tried to sit upright, to die with some grace, but the strength had long since left me. When the hospital reached Liam Caldwell, he was toasting guests with Brittany Hayes. At the mention of my name, his voice was filled with impatience. “Eleanor Vance? Her affairs have nothing to do with me. Don’t call me.” Even Leo, hearing my name, remained impassive. No questions, no curiosity, no defense.

My body lay in the hospital morgue for a full month. Finally, the hospital contacted my colleague, Sarah, who confirmed my identity. During that entire month, Liam never once inquired. He was too busy honeymooning with Brittany Hayes in the Maldives. It wasn’t until the hospital issued a final ultimatum—my body was to be cremated—that he reluctantly hurried back. My corpse, frozen solid in the freezer, was a ghostly, bruised blue, a far cry from my usual appearance. Liam took one look, then sharply averted his gaze, as if my sightless, frozen form was an insult to his perfect day. Leo hadn’t come. He probably didn’t want to see me. The staff urged him to sign the papers quickly and verify the body’s identity. Liam scrawled his name and turned to leave, but was stopped again. He still had to wait for the funeral home to transport the body. His face was a mask of sheer impatience. Of course, Brittany was already texting him, asking what time he’d be home for dinner. The morgue lights were cold and stark. As they moved my body, a beam of light caught the ring on my finger, making it sparkle for a fleeting moment. Liam noticed it. He paused, a slight frown on his face. This was the ring he’d proposed with on graduation day. Back then, we were just two poor students, worried about making ends meet after graduation. To propose to me, he worked odd jobs for three straight months just to buy that modest ring that cost him a few hundred bucks. The diamond was tiny, not very shiny, but it was the best gift I’d received in over twenty years of my life. The golden hour, a gentle breeze, and the earnest, beautiful promise of a young man: “Eleanor Vance, I love you. The wind today tells me I love you, can you hear it? I know you’re pessimistic about marriage. I know all your ideals and ambitions. But please, give me a chance—a chance to prove that our future will be forever happy and beautiful. Will you marry me?” Yet, barely a year into our marriage, the arguments began. He was consumed by his startup, I by my career. He blamed me for not being like other wives, for neglecting our home, for always being busy with work and ignoring him. He complained I was like a robot, always offering calm, rational solutions when he just needed comfort. But it was precisely my drive, my focus, my composure that had drawn him in at first. I kept thinking, just a little more time. Once I finished this project, once I had everything arranged, I’d transform into the ‘qualified wife’ he wanted. But it was too late. Brittany Hayes had appeared in his life. She was young, beautiful, and attentive enough to handle his every need. Naive enough to give him the adoring gaze he craved. Gentle enough not to argue with him after he’d endured a stressful day at work. Those were qualities I lacked. Maybe I was once young and pretty, too, but youth fades. Our love had withered. Between Liam and me, there was nothing left. Perhaps that ring brought back memories for Liam. His expression softened with a flicker of patience as he waited for the funeral home’s van to take me away. He did, in the end, accompany me for this final journey, watching as I was wheeled into the crematorium. My grave was chosen on a desolate hill north of the city—shadowed, windless, treeless, barren. Just one lonely mound. I’d told him countless times that I hated feeling trapped, that I wanted to be free like the wind. If I died, I wished for my ashes to be scattered to the wind, letting me drift one last time across this beautiful world. But on the day of my funeral, neither Liam nor Leo showed up. They were both with Brittany Hayes, going to the courthouse to finalize their marriage license. After all, I was dead. My marriage to Liam Caldwell had automatically ended. No one could hold onto the title of ‘Mrs. Caldwell’ anymore. He doted on her as if she were the most precious jewel, and Leo hovered around her, sweetly trying to win her affection. She wasn’t like me, always engrossed in work, neglecting her husband’s feelings, lacking in care for her child.

So, when Liam Caldwell stared blankly at their freshly minted marriage certificate, she gently wrapped her arms around him. “Liam,” she consoled, “Eleanor is gone. But life goes on for those of us still here. Don’t be sad. I’m sure Eleanor, watching over us, wouldn’t want to see you like this.” Even Leo chimed in, “Yeah, Dad, she’s dead. You should cherish the people who are here now. Brittany is the most important.” Liam snapped out of his daze and hugged the two of them, big and small. “You’re right,” he said, “you two are what matter most now.” He’d said those words to me once, too. After another one of our arguments, he’d stormed off in a huff, packed a bag, and left for a month-long business trip. Until I discovered I was pregnant. Then his anger vanished. He rushed to condense his work into two weeks and hurried home. When he saw me, he embraced me, then, fearing he’d hurt the baby, he held back, his face beaming like an idiot. After that, he turned down countless work opportunities, focusing entirely on staying home with me. He even bought stacks of parenting books. My morning sickness was severe, so he learned all kinds of nutritious recipes, just hoping I’d eat a little more. Every night before bed, he’d massage my legs, afraid I was uncomfortable. I was only six months pregnant, but he’d lost fifteen pounds. In my seventh month, Liam’s company ran into supplier issues, requiring his personal attention. He hesitated, worried I’d be alone. Knowing his company was his life’s blood, I urged him to go, assuring him I’d be fine. He promised to return quickly, but he left me waiting for a full two weeks, claiming the supplier issues were more complicated than expected. My belly grew larger, my movements became slow and cumbersome, and still, he didn’t return. Instead, what arrived was an intimate photo sent to my phone—my husband, Liam Caldwell, and his subordinate, Brittany Hayes, entangled in an explicit embrace. It turned out the truly “complicated” issue wasn’t the supplier at all. It was Brittany. I went into early labor, nearly losing both myself and the baby. Leo was born tiny and very weak. I hadn’t even finished my postpartum recovery when I stormed over to Liam’s company, found Brittany, and made a spectacular scene, embarrassing him utterly in front of everyone. Liam stopped me in front of the entire company. “Eleanor Vance, can’t you stop being so unreasonable? There’s nothing between her and me.” I couldn’t understand how he could be so self-righteous in front of so many people. I wanted to show them that photo, but I’d forgotten to save it, and now it had expired. I was the one who looked like a hysterical, unreasonable woman. But I didn’t care. Just like now, I collapsed at the company entrance, right during lunch hour when everyone was streaming out for their midday meal. A wife dying while her husband held a wedding was juicy enough for tabloid headlines, not to mention Liam’s rivals would be eager to exploit his misstep. In just one month, the company’s market value plummeted by a third. Liam was spinning in circles, hiring countless bots to confuse the public and suppress the news. Only then did he have time to bring Leo back to our home. The plan was to clear out my belongings and sell the house entirely. But the next day, a package arrived. “Sir, excuse me, is this Ms. Eleanor Vance’s home? This is her delivery.”

Liam probably thought I was still causing him trouble, even in death. His expression was full of annoyance. “Eleanor Vance is dead. Just throw the package wherever.” The delivery driver looked awkward, speaking with difficulty. “Sir, are you her family? Would you mind signing for it? It’s something very valuable.” Leo, hearing the commotion at the door, peeked out curiously. “Dad, what is it? I wanna see!” Liam finally signed for the package. It was a large box, about five feet tall, and surprisingly heavy. Leo eagerly urged Liam to open it, impatient to see what was inside. Once opened, it revealed a sleek, silver-gray robot. “Dad, isn’t this one of those broken scraps of metal Mom used to work on? She never let me touch them.” Leo poked around curiously. Even Liam looked bewildered, likely wondering who sent it. “Dad, I wanna play! How do you turn this robot on?” Leo’s voice snapped Liam back to reality. He looked at the instruction manual and powered on the robot. “Please enter the operating password,” a cold, mechanical voice announced. “Dad, why does this robot need a password? I wanna play, I wanna play! Come on, think of the password!” Liam’s face darkened, but he continued to try. “March 13, 1992.” That was my birthday. It was surprising he even remembered. But the expected “password correct” didn’t sound. Next, he tried Leo’s birthday, his own birthday, and our wedding anniversary. All were wrong. Liam’s face was grim. He kicked the robot to the side. Leo, startled, began to cry. Liam, however, wasn’t in the mood to comfort him. He called Mrs. Miller, the junk collector. When Mrs. Miller arrived, he had already gathered my old belongings, ready for them to be taken away. She first carried off my clothes, then my books, then my miscellaneous items. Every trace of my existence was slowly being erased. As she left, she glanced at the robot lying on the floor, but Liam called out, telling her to take that too. After Mrs. Miller left, Leo picked up a small notebook from the floor and handed it to Liam. “Dad, you dropped a notebook.” Liam was about to take it and throw it away, but for some reason, he hesitated, a strange impulse making him open it. [July 14: Today I’m getting married. We’re broke, but I believe in him, and I believe in myself. We’ll have a good life.] [December 22: Research is going well. New breakthrough. If all goes as planned, it’ll be in production within five years. One step closer to my dream.]

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It was late June, and the world was baking under a scorching 100-degree Fahrenheit heatwave. My family was chilling in the living room, blasting the AC and munching on ice-cold watermelon. Me? I’d locked myself in my bedroom and cranked the heater to max. “Electricity isn’t free, you know? Turn that off!” my dad, Robert, bellowed. My brother, Kevin, sneered, “Too much studying has fried your brain! Hope you roast, you psycho!” “Open this door, or you’re sleeping in the hallway!” my mom, Sharon, threatened. I didn’t react. In fact, a faint smile played on my lips. Because they had no idea. Tonight, the global temperature would plunge by a hundred degrees. The extreme cold apocalypse was coming. “This station reports, abnormal high temperatures have persisted for ten days, and are expected to climb to 113 degrees Fahrenheit…” The late June sun was a blazing fireball, mercilessly scorching the earth. Outside my window, the leaves drooped, wilted and lifeless. Heat waves distorted the asphalt road. I stood by the window, sweat beading on my forehead and trickling down my cheeks, but my heart felt like a block of ice. I had been reborn. Memories from my past life flooded my mind like a tidal wave: After a prolonged heatwave, the sudden, extreme cold had paralyzed the city within hours. My family of four was trapped in this old apartment complex. Food spoiled quickly in the summer, and we had no stockpiles. Within five days, we were running dangerously low on supplies. Kevin, my brother, cried and howled every day from hunger. Mom and Dad took my last cookie to appease him. They completely ignored the fact that I’d had nothing but a sip of thin gruel for three days. Later, to survive, they sent me—their useless bookworm daughter—out to brave the elements and find food. I was dressed in flimsy clothes and searched for a day and a night. After endless hardship, I finally found some provisions. But when I returned, they not only snatched away the food and water but also locked me out. I curled up in the sub-zero hallway. I watched, helpless, as Mom, Dad, and Kevin sat around a warm hotpot, the steam blurring their smiling faces. What a cozy family scene. And I? I was locked outside, my fingers turning black from frostbite, my breath freezing into ice crystals on my eyelashes. I remembered Mom’s last look at me, as if I were a piece of worthless trash. “Better to freeze to death out there than waste our food here.” That was Dad’s last line to me, shouted through the closed door. “No one will fight me for food now!” Kevin cheered excitedly. And now, I was back. Back to the last day before the extreme cold apocalypse struck. My hand trembled as I pulled out my phone. June 30th, 9:17 AM. Less than fourteen hours until the global temperature plummeted. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and took a deep breath. This time, I wouldn’t be the naive fool who let herself be sacrificed. “Avery! What are you doing with the door shut in broad daylight?” Mom’s shrill voice pierced through the thin door, and I flinched. In my past life, at this very moment, I would have been in the kitchen helping her make a cooling drink for Kevin before his afternoon tutoring. I took a deep breath and looked at myself in the mirror. Eighteen years old, fresh out of final exams, wearing a faded T-shirt, my bangs stuck to my forehead with sweat. Who would guess that beneath this innocent face lurked a soul that had experienced death? “I’m changing!” I casually replied, my fingers flying through the drawers. The scholarship envelope from school after my exams was still tucked under my textbooks—eight thousand dollars. Add to that my hidden earnings from part-time jobs and birthday money over the years, and I had a total of fifty-eight thousand six hundred and fifty-two dollars. This money might barely cover my college expenses, but in the final hours before the apocalypse, it was my lifeline. A sharp honk from outside startled me. A delivery truck pulled up downstairs. Something clicked in my mind, and I frantically opened my phone to check my delivery status. Before I was reborn, I’d bought a down jacket, thermal underwear, and a thick down comforter during an off-season clearance sale. They were all out for delivery right now. I quickly sent an urgent text to the delivery driver, then dialed Mr. Henderson, the hardware store owner. “Mr. Henderson, it’s Avery from Building 7. I urgently need a batch of construction materials…” After hanging up, I stared blankly at the family photo on the wall. In the picture, Dad had his arm around Kevin, sitting front and center. Mom sat beside Dad, smiling. I, however, stood awkwardly on the very edge, like an outsider. This photo perfectly summarized my standing in this family. A superfluous accessory.

“Knock, knock, knock!” A violent pounding on the door jolted me from my thoughts. “You lazy girl, how long does it take to change? Get out here and mop the living room floor!” Mom’s voice was laced with impatience. “Almost done!” I replied, even as I frantically placed orders on various delivery apps: Emergency rations, canned goods, water purification tablets, first-aid kits… My fingers flew across the screen, every cent spent with surgical precision. When I finally opened the door, Mom stood with her hands on her hips. She wore a cheap floral print pajama set, her hair messily tied up. “What took you so long?” She eyed me up and down. “You look pale. Heatstroke?” I shook my head, noticing the deepening lines around her neck. In my past life, on the third day of the apocalypse, it was her who strangled my neck with a scarf, forcing me to go out and find food. *“Anyway, you’re going to die eventually, so you might as well contribute to the family.”* “What are you staring at? Go bring in the laundry from the balcony!” Mom shoved me, then turned and walked towards the kitchen. “We’re having noodles for lunch. Fry three fried eggs. Kevin gets an extra one.” Just like always, there were no fried eggs for me. But this time, I didn’t complain. Instead, I walked silently to the balcony, already planning my renovation. My room was only about 65 square feet, but it was enough to transform into a mini-shelter. In my past life, when the apocalypse hit, our whole family huddled in the master bedroom because there was an old electric heater in there. But in temperatures of negative sixty degrees Fahrenheit, that bit of heat was completely useless. The midday sun was blindingly fierce. I mechanically gathered the clothes, all the while observing the building’s structure. We lived on the top floor, the sixth. There was no rooftop access, and the buildings were spaced far apart. This was both an advantage and a disadvantage: it would be hard for anyone to breach from the roof, but insulation was absolutely critical. “Avery, get me an ice-cold cola!” My brother Kevin’s voice drifted from the living room. I turned and saw him sprawled on the couch, playing on his phone, his T-shirt pulled up to reveal his pale, soft belly. In my past life, he was the first to suggest kicking me out: “She’s so smart; she’ll definitely find food.” I silently grabbed a cola from the fridge. As I handed it to him, I deliberately let the condensation from the bottle drip onto his phone. “Are you blind?!” He jumped up, suddenly enraged, and shoved me. I was prepared, sidestepping easily. He, however, stumbled from the force of his own push. “Avery! You made Kevin angry again!” Mom rushed out of the kitchen, a rolling pin still covered in flour in her hand. “He didn’t hold it steady himself.” I said calmly, watching Mom immediately turn to comfort Kevin, stroking his head as if he were a three-year-old. Fifteen-year-old Kevin, spoiled rotten, was a literal overgrown baby. Dad didn’t come home for lunch. He was a small manager at the district power company, always acting high and mighty outside. In my past life, when the apocalypse hit, he was the first to snatch the canned food I’d found. At 2 PM, after confirming Mom had taken Kevin to tutoring, I immediately got to work. Mr. Henderson arrived with two workers, hauling in materials: A blast-proof door, double-layered tempered glass, insulation wool, soundproofing panels… “Little lady, are you building a panic room?” Mr. Henderson chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow. “We had a break-in,” I said, reciting my rehearsed lie. “My parents are busy with work, so they asked me to oversee the renovation.” During the three hours of construction, my palms were sweating from nerves, terrified my family would return unexpectedly. The workers, though curious, worked incredibly fast, spurred on by the extra payment. When the last insulation panel was installed, my small room had been transformed into a solid, insulated box. “This room could probably withstand a bomb now,” Mr. Henderson half-joked. “But little lady, are you sure you want to stay in here in this heat?” I smiled and paid them an extra five hundred dollars for their hard work. The moment they left, I began arranging the interior. The bed was pushed into a corner, making space for stockpiled supplies. My desk became a workstation. The closet was packed with cold-weather gear. Finally, I installed a simple deadbolt on the inside of the door. This was a lesson learned with my life. At 6 PM, I took a taxi straight to a wholesale warehouse supermarket on the city outskirts. Pushing two shopping carts, I swept through the aisles like a madwoman bracing for the end of the world: Twenty cases of bottled water, thirty bags of emergency rations, fifty cans of meat, five ten-kilogram bags of rice, solid alcohol fuel, first-aid medicines, vitamin tablets, freeze-dried vegetables… “Student, are you opening a convenience store?” the cashier asked curiously as she scanned my items. “School summer camp,” I quickly made up an excuse, my eyes glued to the time on my phone. 6:47 PM. Less than five hours until the apocalypse. In the delivery truck on the way back, the driver kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “Little lady, buying so much stuff. Are you moving?” “Yeah,” I mumbled, looking out at the bustling crowds. How many of these laughing, chatting people would survive tonight? News reports from my past life said the first wave of cold killed a third of the city’s population. When I finally hauled the last of my supplies into my room, it was already pitch dark. Dad, uncharacteristically, was home for dinner. He frowned as I walked in. “Haven’t seen you all day. Where have you been messing around?” “Friend’s gathering.” I kept my head down and hurried towards my room. “Stop right there!” Dad slammed his chopsticks on the table. “You’re getting more and more disrespectful. Can’t you even say hello when you see people?” I turned around, seeing three pairs of eyes fixed on me. Kevin still had food stuck to the corner of his mouth, his eyes full of malicious glee. “Dad, Mom, Kevin, I’m back.” I recited the words mechanically, then slipped into my room and locked the door without waiting for a response. Angry curses from Dad and Mom’s soothing voice drifted from outside the door, but none of it mattered anymore. It was 8:00 PM exactly. Four hours until the apocalypse. The first thing I did was switch the AC from cooling to heating, setting the temperature to the highest, 90 degrees Fahrenheit. Hot air immediately blasted from the vent, and the room temperature began to climb. In less than three minutes, the knocking started, just as I’d expected. “Avery! What the hell are you doing?! Turning on the heater in this weather?!” Dad roared from outside, the doorknob rattling violently. I didn’t respond, continuing to check my supply list. Drinking water, food, medicine, warm gear… Everything was in order. Most importantly, the small diesel generator and ten barrels of diesel, hidden in a secret compartment under my bed. “Electricity isn’t free, you know? Turn that off!” Dad started banging on the door with his fists. “Too much studying has fried your brain! Hope you roast, you psycho!” Kevin’s mocking voice rang out, followed by a dull thud as he kicked the door. “Can’t even use an AC right!” Mom’s voice was the most piercing: “Open this door, or you’re sleeping in the hallway! We don’t need such an undutiful daughter!” I sat on the edge of my bed, feeling the rising temperature in the room. Even as sweat trickled down my forehead and into my collar, a smile unconsciously spread across my lips. This time, it was you who were locked outside. I stared at the clock on my phone: 11:59 PM. The final minute. Sweat had already soaked through my T-shirt. The room thermometer showed 100 degrees Fahrenheit, but I stubbornly kept the heater on. This was necessary preparation: When the extreme cold arrived, a well-insulated room would cool down slowly, not instantly freeze. The numbers flickered, then reset to zero. 12:00 AM A strange, eerie silence suddenly enveloped the entire world. The chirping of cicadas, the hum of cars, even the sound of the wind – everything vanished in that moment.

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The moment Isabelle filed for divorce, a single call was all it took for Marcus to drop everything, abandoning me to rush back to her side. I tore the pregnancy test result from my hand, walking away without a single glance back. Five years later, we ran into each other at the airport. She was clinging to his arm, a dazzling smile, an ethereal beauty. A perfect family of three. The way Marcus looked at them—it was filled with a tenderness, a devotion he had *never* once shown me. I gripped Leo’s hand, wanting to leave, but we were stopped. He looked at my son beside me, his eyes widening in a mixture of shock and something unreadable. “Where did you get a child?” In the crowded departure lounge, little Leo tugged at my sleeve, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “Mommy, when can I have a daddy? I really envy that little girl.” He spoke softly, gesturing towards the open hall not far away. A tall man was holding a little girl, his strong arms tossing her up repeatedly. Then catching her safely, simulating a game of flying. The little girl’s crisp laughter, like little chimes, echoed through the entire lounge. Every passerby who looked their way wore a warm, envious smile. Only I, the moment I recognized that figure, felt like I was plunged into an ice storm. Every nerve tightened, my scalp prickled with dread. One thought consumed me: *escape*. I grabbed Leo, fleeing like a criminal, but accidentally bumped into a stranger’s camera. The man roared in distress, grabbing my coat, demanding compensation.

I never imagined my next meeting with Marcus would be so utterly humiliating. I was being yanked back and forth by his grip on my collar, my hair a wild mess. Leo, frightened, hid behind me, jostled back and forth by my violent movements. His eyes red-rimmed, he timidly but bravely cried out, “Don’t bully my mommy! You’re a bad man!” The man frantically accused me of breaking his camera, spinning me around again. Just then, a warm hand suddenly clamped onto my wrist, steadying me. The man was startled by the sudden force, looking up at the person behind me. “Who are you?” He was agitated, glaring hostilely at the person beside me. From above, that familiar deep voice was as steady and cold as ever. An undeniable authority. “Bullying a woman? What kind of strength is that?” The man wouldn’t let up, ranting about how I’d shattered his camera – what a prestigious brand, such a high-end lens, how it cost ten thousand dollars. Marcus gave him a brief, dismissive look, then turned to signal Isabelle. Isabelle immediately handed over several stacks of fresh cash from her purse. Marcus took the money, glancing at it – ten thousand dollars, not a penny more, not a penny less. He coldly eyed the broken lens on the ground, his eyes still holding that sharp, unyielding intelligence no one could fool. “More than enough to compensate you for this.” The man realized Marcus knew photography and wasn’t easy to swindle. He quietly took the money and left. But I had just landed, in the most humiliating, disheveled way possible, owing them money. I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh, mocking my own fate. Embracing my utter disgrace, I feigned nonchalance, smoothing my messy bangs back and greeting them with a bright smile. “Hi, Marcus, hi Isabelle. Long time no see.”

Isabelle hadn’t recognized me at first, thinking Marcus was just being a chivalrous Samaritan. The moment she saw my face, she was stunned for a split second. Then, her regret became painfully obvious. She cautiously glanced at Marcus, but didn’t respond to me. I dared not look at Marcus. But even without looking, I could feel his gaze, sharp as a blade. His stare made my skin crawl, my scalp tighten. I didn’t dare to look his way. And he, very quickly, noticed the small figure hidden behind me. Leo was already curious about Marcus. To a child, an adult who could lift them high, tossing them into the air for a game, was practically a superhero. The immediate tension had subsided. He rubbed away his tears, secretly poking his little head out to look up. And his eyes met Marcus’s. In that moment, my heart hammered, a frantic drumbeat in my chest. I felt lightheaded. This was it.

Anyone with eyes – even a blind man – could see Leo was Marcus’s son. Because standing together, they were a perfect adult and mini-me. The same nose, the same eyebrows, even the same soft, perfectly shaped ears looked like they’d been cast from the same mold. Even their daughter noticed it, tugging on Marcus’s sleeve. “Daddy, that little boy looks just like you.” Marcus’s face darkened further. Strangely, Isabelle wasn’t angry. Instead, she seemed worried, clinging to Marcus’s arm, her eyes misting over as she looked up at him, feigning helplessness. “Marcus…” Marcus snapped back to reality. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He gave me a murderous glare. His gaze was murderous, as if he wanted to devour me, or choke the life out of me a dozen times over. He was so furious, he didn’t even register Isabelle’s feigned fragility. He yanked her hand away, coldly saying, “You go back first.” Isabelle didn’t dare say more. She gave me a deep look, her eyes filled with resentment and unwillingness. But before leaving, she gently nudged her daughter. The little girl, cunning even at her young age, mimicked her mother’s innocent, vulnerable look as she spoke to Marcus, “Daddy, come home soon.” Marcus’s expression softened. He gently looked down, responding, “Okay.”

Marcus called his assistant, Ben, and handed Leo over to him. Then, we sat in the car together, in silence. He rested an arm on the window, his fingers idly stroking his lips, a deep frown etched on his face as he watched a distant plane take off. I knew his concern. “It’s fine. I won’t ask you for child support, and you don’t need to be responsible for Leo.” Suddenly, Marcus exploded. He snapped back to reality, seizing my wrist, pressing me back into the seat. His eyes were blazing red with fury, his voice shaking with raw anger. “…You think I’m worried about child support? Aria, five years! You disappeared without a trace for five whole years! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you? I’ve needed sleeping pills every night just to get some rest! Every moment, every second, I’ve been terrified, dreaming of you being cruelly murdered, trafficked to some island, or having your organs harvested! Do you know how scared I was?!” Scared? I never thought those words would come from the formidable, legendary CEO Marcus. But the bloodshot intensity in his eyes was real, not an act. His reaction completely threw me off. I was utterly bewildered. This bewilderment only infuriated him again. But this time, he looked deeply hurt. “What? In your eyes, am I truly that heartless? That I wouldn’t care if you vanished?” I scoffed. “You’re married. Why are you putting on this ‘devoted lover’ act?”

When Marcus married Isabelle, I was on an operating table. For this child, I worked five different jobs, even delivering food right up until I was seven months pregnant. The constant strain led to complications, and even a C-section was touch-and-go. As I lay there, bleeding profusely, fighting to save the child inside me, I heard the television from outside. The TV was broadcasting a lavish, ‘wedding of the century’ ceremony. The protagonists were Marcus and Isabelle. I screamed, my voice raw from the pain, as they walked down the aisle. My womb was cut open, a bloody mess, as their eyes met. I lay on the operating table, pale and barely clinging to life. They exchanged rings, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes, speaking vows of ‘never leaving.’ The way he looked at her was pure adoration. In that moment, I felt like I had died. The heartbreak was a searing pain, worse than childbirth. But after the pain, a strange calm settled over me. The nurse, wiping sweat from her brow after a frantic shift, wheeled me back to my room. The wedding on TV was slowly drawing to a close. Marcus and Isabelle embraced, kissing. The audience applauded thunderously, tears streaming down their faces as they blessed the couple. Even the nurse who was administering my IV couldn’t help but sigh, “What a perfect match.” Yes, what a perfect match. Ever since high school, ‘perfect match’ had been synonymous with Marcus and Isabelle. The whole world seemed to be rooting for them to get married, saying if they didn’t, love itself would cease to exist. Isabelle, however, fell in love with someone else. Marcus was heartbroken and furious. He drowned himself in alcohol, spiraling into self-pity, and then he confessed his feelings to me. He was truly pathetic then, sobbing in my arms, asking if I’d be with him. Against my better judgment, I said yes. And just like that, we were together, our relationship surprisingly uneventful. He did everything a boyfriend was supposed to do. But whenever he saw anything about Isabelle, his handsome brows would furrow, and he’d fall silent for the entire day. I foolishly believed he’d eventually get over her. But even more heartbroken than him were the people who desperately wanted him and Isabelle to be together. They were furious with him, demanding to know why he was with me, why he wasn’t fighting to win Isabelle back. Marcus, clearly annoyed, retorted, “She chose to be with an ordinary man, so I’ll choose to be with an ordinary woman. If this fairytale is going to be shattered, let’s shatter it completely.” So that was it. I had just found out I was pregnant when I heard him say that. I was in the room, carefully and excitedly holding the ribbon-wrapped gift box with the pregnancy test inside, planning to show it to him. The moment I heard his words, my blood ran cold. The ribbon-wrapped gift box in my hand suddenly felt incredibly ironic. How could I have thought he truly liked me, that he’d want a child with me? How could I have ever believed that *he* would fall in love with a woman like me? I didn’t have Isabelle’s beauty, or the privileged background of a socialite, or her reputation. I didn’t have the idyllic childhood she shared with Marcus. Why did I ever think he truly wanted to be with me? I had once believed he held at least a little affection for me. But at that moment, I snapped to a harsh realization: he was only with me out of spite. Out of spite against Isabelle.

That brief moment of clarity saved my life, and yet, it also shattered it. I turned and threw the pregnancy test into the ocean. Then, I went to the clinic and had an abortion. I had to leave him. Even if I wasn’t Isabelle, even if I didn’t possess her unique beauty, I wouldn’t willingly be a pawn in his spiteful games. I had my dignity. That day, I went to the clinic alone, had the abortion alone, and left the clinic alone. Dragging my weak, exhausted body back to the resort we were staying at to pack my bags. When Marcus learned I wanted to leave him, he went ballistic, snatching my things and throwing them aside. He gripped my hand tightly, so hard. “What’s wrong? What don’t you like about me? Just tell me!” It was the first time I’d seen him so furious. His anger usually simmered, a cold, silent threat that sent shivers down your spine without a single word. But that time, when I said I was leaving, his fury erupted, threatening to incinerate me. He kept asking what I disliked about him. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t tell him he didn’t love me at all. That he saw me as a mere pawn in his petty feud with Isabelle. How could he possibly admit it? If he were that honest, he never would’ve confessed his feelings to me in the first place. If he’d seen me as a human being, he wouldn’t have played games with me, deceiving me for so long! It was my own fault for being so foolish. How could I have believed he’d ever truly let go of Isabelle? I didn’t explain anything, I just kept packing my bags. Then, he proposed to me. He got down on one knee, directly sliding the ring he had prepared onto my finger. His voice was softer and more resolute than ever. “You think I won’t marry you, don’t you? Fine, I’ll tell you now: I, Marcus Sterling, will take responsibility for you until the very end. I’ll spend my entire life with you.” Every word reeked of ‘responsibility.’ Who needs your sense of ‘responsibility’? I couldn’t help but laugh. “When I went for the abortion today, the doctor told me I might have trouble getting pregnant again. Your family, with you as the only son, needs heirs. I’m not fit for that.”

When Marcus learned I’d secretly had an abortion, his anger morphed into something far more complex. For a moment, I thought he wanted to strangle me. But then, reason seemed to pull him back. He hated me, hated me for killing his child. Disappointment, confusion, sadness, and even a flicker of fear flashed in his eyes. His thoughts tangled, making his dark eyes seem even deeper, but in the end, it all just turned to ice. He roared in fury, slamming his fist into the wall beside my head, drawing blood. He gasped for air, so consumed by hatred he probably wanted to kill me, but all he could do was gasp. I thought, with things like this, we could finally end it all. But who would have thought? Instead of letting me go, he held me captive in the hotel. He kept me there, refusing to let me see anyone or contact the outside world. Then, one night, he appeared, completely wasted, and took me roughly. —His fierceness felt like it was tearing me apart. And after that, he came every day. Every day, he acted like he wanted me dead. As if all his pain and hatred needed to be released this way. He’d attend events with beautiful young women on his arm, but he refused to end things with me. It was his twisted way of constantly trampling my dignity, watching me helpless as people ridiculed me, treating me like an idiot. I tried to break up, he refused. Every time I tried to sneak away, his bodyguards and Ben would block me. That lasted for six months, until the news of Isabelle’s divorce broke.

Isabelle got divorced. He left immediately, flying non-stop to Japan that very night. He went straight to her Tokyo home, beat up the man who had wronged her, and it made international headlines. The news showed a photo of him escorting Isabelle from her house. Isabelle’s face was bruised and tear-streaked from domestic violence, and she clung pitifully to his chest. His eyes were full of tender pity, laced with regret for not having protected her. It was a perfect opportunity. The first time in six months of trying to escape that his bodyguards and Ben weren’t around. But I didn’t leave immediately. I was still holding onto a sliver of hope. I called his cell phone. At first, no one answered. Then, finally, he picked up, only to say “What?” impatiently before hanging up. Later, I called again in the dead of night. The phone was answered, but there was no sound. After a while, I heard Isabelle crying, and Marcus’s gentle comforting words. He said, “It’s okay, I’ll take care of you from now on.” I didn’t listen any further. I threw away the cell phone Marcus had bought for me. I pried open a drawer, snatched every dollar he’d left behind, and left that very night. The car’s AC wasn’t on. It was cold. His breath plumed white in the cold car, his eyes bloodshot, as if he were holding back tears.

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