Category: English

At 2:00 AM, deep in sleep, I was shaken awake by my brother. In the darkness, he was trembling violently, his face a mask of terror as he pointed a shaking finger toward the living room. “Sis,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Someone’s in the house.” 1 I woke up instantly, panic seizing my chest as I stared at the bedroom door. From the living room came the shuffling sound of footsteps. Someone was definitely out there. My heart hammered against my ribs. Mom was out tonight. It was just me and my two younger brothers at home. Who could it be? A burglar? I pulled Hunter, my brother, tightly into my arms. That’s when I realized he was alone. Blood drained from my face. I grabbed his shoulders, hissing, “Where is Gunner? Why are you alone?” Hunter was sobbing silently, shaking his head frantically. “I don’t know. He got up to use the bathroom… and he never came back.” I felt like I was going crazy. Had the intruder found him? I gritted my teeth. I was the big sister; I had to protect him. Mom had taken the only cell phone in the house, so we couldn’t call 911. I gripped Hunter’s shoulders, staring him in the eyes. “Hunter, hide in the wardrobe. Do not make a single sound, no matter what you hear. Do you understand?” Hunter nodded vigorously, his large frame quivering. I quietly slipped out of bed and stuffed him into the closet. Then, I tiptoed to the bedroom door and cracked it open just a sliver. Through the gap, I saw a man standing in the living room. He was wrapped head-to-toe in a rain poncho. He was currently bent over the coffee table, rummaging through the drawers. One of his hands was gripping something, but it was too dark to see what. Is it just a thief? My heart settled slightly. If it was just a burglary, that was the best-case scenario. Most thieves just want money, not lives. And given our family’s financial state, he wasn’t going to find much. I sniffed the air. There was a faint, metallic scent drifting in. I couldn’t think too much about it. I widened the crack just a fraction more, desperate to spot my other brother, Gunner. Suddenly, the intruder seemed to sense something. The beam of his flashlight snapped toward my door. I ducked back instantly, heart pounding. I didn’t think he saw me. Then, he moved. He picked up whatever he was holding and slowly walked toward the kitchen. I leaned my back against the door, listening. The noise stopped. Did he leave? I swallowed hard, my throat dry, and peeked through the crack again. A pair of eyes, rolled back into a white stare, were looking right at me. Goosebumps exploded all over my body. I slammed my hands over my mouth to stifle a scream. It was Gunner’s eyes. His severed head was hanging from the top of my doorframe. Blood dripped from his neck—drip, drip, drip—onto the floor. My brother was dead. I shook violently, an uncontrollable whimper escaping my throat. He was just a thief. Why did he have to kill? Suddenly, footsteps approached again. I almost died of fright right there. I slammed the door shut and locked it. “Heh heh… so you’re awake too.” The killer’s voice drifted through the wood. Then, THUD! A heavy blow slammed against the door. I was sobbing silently now. The room was tiny, and Hunter was already in the closet. My only option was to scramble under the bed. The door was sturdy enough; he banged on it a few times but couldn’t break it down. I heard him sigh. Then, the sound of dragging footsteps moving away. My heart was trying to beat out of my chest, tears blurring my vision. I couldn’t believe Gunner was gone. Who was this? Why break into our house? Why kill my brother? I lay under the bed, weeping in silent despair. Then, the footsteps returned. My body went rigid. He hadn’t given up. Next came the sound of a key sliding into the lock. My blood turned to ice. Oh God. There’s a spare key in the living room. Click. The door creaked open. A pair of blood-soaked boots stepped into my view. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You like playing hide-and-seek?” A raspy male voice filled the room. He casually tossed something onto the floor. It rolled and stopped right in front of my face. It was Gunner’s head. The metallic stench of blood was overwhelming. Gunner’s eyes were wide open, staring into nothingness. Dead. The killer seemed to notice something. He rushed to the window and looked down. To mislead him, I had opened the window earlier to make it look like we jumped. We lived on the third floor; it was risky, but survivable. “Damn it! They ran?” He leaned out the window, cursing angrily. Then he turned around and walked toward the bed. Just as I thought he was leaving, he suddenly crouched down. A pair of bloodshot eyes stared directly at me under the bed. “Found you.” 2 I screamed, scrambling backward, trying to squeeze deeper into the darkness. But there was nowhere to go. The killer reached in, grabbed my ankle, and dragged me out with terrifying ease. I shrieked and kicked, fighting for my life. But I was a malnourished sixteen-year-old girl. How could I overpower a grown man? He pinned me down, grinning beneath his hood. “Lucky me. A little girl left behind.” He reached for my pants. I realized instantly what he intended to do and gripped my waistband with a death grip. The next second, a cold blade was pressed against my throat. “Move again, and I gut you.” I froze. The killer let out a sleazy chuckle. Just as he was about to continue, he suddenly let out a howl of pain. “Let go of my sister!” Hunter had burst out of the closet, wielding a cleaver from the kitchen. He had slashed the killer’s back. The killer let go of me and spun around. Hunter swung again, hitting him in the chest. But the killer was unnaturally calm. He caught Hunter’s wrist mid-swing and kicked him in the gut, sending him flying. I scrambled up, trying to help, but it was too late. Right before my horrified eyes, the killer brought his knife down on Hunter’s neck. Hunter’s eyes bulged. He tried to speak, but only blood gurgled out. Hunter was dead. I let out a wail of pure despair and charged at the killer. He backhanded me effortlessly, sending me crashing to the floor. Then, laughing maniacally, he hacked my brother’s head off with two brutal chops. Face splattered with fresh blood, he turned his hideous grin toward me. “Now… it’s your turn.” He took two steps toward me, then suddenly, his legs gave out. He collapsed. He looked down, realizing he was bleeding heavily from Hunter’s first strike. Glaring at me with pure hatred, he dragged his injured body out the door and fled. Overwhelmed by terror and shock, my eyes rolled back, and I passed out. 3 I was woken up by my mother’s screaming. I prayed it was a nightmare. I prayed that when I opened my eyes, my brothers would be standing there, alive and whole. But the bloodstains on the floor told me the truth. I heard Mom wailing in the living room. I struggled to my feet and stumbled out, crying as I ran to her. She was on the floor, cradling the severed heads of Hunter and Gunner, crying until she nearly fainted. I lowered my head, afraid to look at her face. I tugged her arm, sobbing. “I’m sorry, Mom… I didn’t protect them…” Mom’s eyes were bloodshot. She swung her hand and slapped me hard across the face. “What good are you?! My sons are dead, and I don’t want to live either!” My face burned, but my heart hurt worse. Mom called the police. As the only witness, I was taken to the station. “Don’t be scared, sweetie. Just tell us what you saw and heard last night.” I sat in the chair, head down, staring at the table, nervously picking at my fingernails. The officer in front of me was in his forties. Detective Miller. He had a square face but gentle features. Even meeting him for the first time, I felt a strange sense of safety. “Let me think… I can’t remember clearly.” My voice trembled. With tears streaming down my face, I knew I looked pathetic. Detective Miller looked sympathetic. He cleared his throat. “Don’t worry. We will catch the guy who did this.” I nodded and poured out the story of what happened last night. After I finished, I peeked up to gauge his reaction. He was frowning, twirling a pen in his fingers. The room fell into a weird silence. Miller seemed to be thinking. He took a sip of tea, his eyes suddenly locking onto my arm. I flinched, instinctively pulling my sleeve down. He smiled gently and gathered the files on the table. “That’s all for now. You can go back with your mother.” He looked toward the door, where my mother’s screeching voice could be heard. “She’s been waiting a while.” I nodded, standing up on shaky legs, curling inward like a wounded animal, and walked out. Miller watched my thin frame retreat, a thoughtful look on his face. Outside, Mom was screaming at a group of officers. “What good are you cops?! My sons! Give me back my sons’ lives!” Her voice was shrill, drowning out three or four officers trying to calm her down. They looked annoyed but held their tongues—she had just lost two children, after all. When I walked out, the cops looked relieved. “Ma’am, please. Your daughter is here. Comfort her.” Mom went quiet. She turned slowly to look at me. “Mom…” I whispered, keeping my head down. SLAP. Her hand cracked across my face. It was so hard my cheek turned instantly red, the sound echoing in the hallway. I didn’t dare cry. She slapped the other side of my face, then kicked me hard in the stomach. I groaned and fell to my knees. “Why?! Why wasn’t it you?!” “Why did my sons have to die?!” “You useless bitch! Why did you hide instead of protecting them?! I’ll beat you to death!” Face twisted in rage, she raised her hand again, but the officers finally rushed in to stop her. “Hey! What are you doing hitting the kid? She’s a victim too!” “She’s my daughter! I’ll beat her if I want! Get off me!” I knelt there in silence, fists clenched. After they pulled her back, she calmed down slightly. “Let’s go home.” I shivered and looked helplessly toward Detective Miller. Miller paused, thinking for a second. Then he cleared his throat. “Ma’am, actually, I have a few more questions to clarify. How about you go home first? When we’re done, we’ll drive her back.” “We want to catch the killer as soon as possible for your sons, right?” That last sentence hit the mark. She glared at me, snorted, and left. 4 Detective Miller took me to the cafeteria. He frowned as he watched me wolf down the food. “You’re so thin. Do you not get enough to eat?” I paused, forcing a smile. “No, the food here is just really good.” Yeah, at home, I ate great. Rotten cabbage, meat that smelled off, three-day-old rice even the dog wouldn’t touch. If they were in a good mood, maybe I got a bone with a shred of meat on it. Miller smiled kindly, but his eyes were scanning me. “What’s with the injuries?” I froze, swallowing a mouthful of rice. “I fell.” “Fell? Your mom hits you, doesn’t she?” I looked up. “Not always. Only when I’m disobedient.” Truly, not always. Only when she was happy, she’d give me a slap. When she was mad, she’d give me a slap. If anyone outside upset her, she’d tie me up and whip me with a cattle switch until my skin split and blood ran down my back. While she whipped me, she’d scream, “You useless little slut! Waste of space!” It was routine. She never hit my face or arms where people could see. Did my strong, healthy brothers protect their sister? No. They watched and laughed. If they were in the mood, they’d take the whip and have a go. They hit harder than Mom. After the beatings, I had to wash my own blood-soaked clothes and drag my broken body to do the chores. Sometimes I wished they’d just kill me so the suffering would end. Without realizing it, I had started crying. “What’s wrong?” Miller asked. “Nothing. Just… missed my brothers.” I wiped my tears, deflecting. Suddenly, an officer ran in, looking urgent. He saw me, hesitated, and called Miller out. My stomach tightened. I clenched my fists under the table. The officer whispered something to Miller and handed him a report. Miller read it, and his face changed completely. He looked back at me through the glass, confusion in his eyes. “Lily, come with me to the interrogation room.” My heart dropped.

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I married a rich man with a daughter for $500,000. I didn’t expect to start seeing floating text like a Twitch chat stream: [Yes! Finally the evil stepdaughter gets tortured!] [Evil stepmom meets evil stepdaughter. Villains grinding villains! I love it!] [With the stepdaughter’s scheming, this stepmom won’t last a few years.] I glanced at my stepdaughter. Scheming is good. It means my daughter is smart and independent. 1 This was my first family gathering after marrying into the Sterling family. The extended family was huge. Everyone wore polite, plastic smiles, creating an illusion of harmony. I tried my best to blend into the background. But my thirteen-year-old stepdaughter, Sophia, pulled out her phone and played a video for the table. “Did you marry my dad for his money?” “Partly, I guess. You’re just a kid, don’t overthink it.” “Rest assured, your dad and I won’t be giving you a little brother.” My voice echoed from the phone speaker. My in-laws’ faces turned black as coal. “Oops, wrong button,” Sophia gasped, feigning innocence, but the corners of her eyes betrayed a smug delight. Instantly, a dozen pairs of Sterling eyes turned to me. Some looked ready for drama, others smirked. Everyone was waiting for a show. “Richard, what is the meaning of this?” My father-in-law said my husband’s name, but his cold gaze dissected me. Richard snatched the phone from his daughter and glared at her. “Dad, she’s just a kid, don’t mind her. Let’s eat, let’s eat.” My mother-in-law tapped the table lightly. The sound was soft but cut through Richard’s words instantly. She sighed. “Richard, Sarah. You’re newlyweds. I understand not wanting kids right away. But the Sterling family needs a male heir to carry on the line.” “Richard only has two daughters. Sarah, you’ll have to work hard.” I blinked. From the moment the video started, the floating text in front of my eyes exploded. [Holy crap, the villainess strikes! Embarrassing the stepmom in public!] [Stepmom is screwed. In-laws will hate her, husband will resent her. No man likes hearing his wife is only there for the money.] [She’s this evil at thirteen? Can’t imagine what she’ll do to my precious heroine later!] [This mother-in-law is disgusting too!] [Of course she has to put the daughter-in-law in her place. This is the Sterling family.] So what if it’s the Sterling family? I opened my mouth. “It’s not me working hard. It’s my fate that’s hard.” My mother-in-law’s fake smile froze. “Didn’t Richard tell you? Years of smoking and drinking have tanked his sperm count. He can’t have kids.” Dead silence. Richard shot up from his chair, glaring daggers at me. “Honey, I know it hurts your pride, but we can’t hide this forever. Better to be honest.” My mother-in-law’s voice went up an octave. “Richard! Is this true?!” His face went from green to white. Finally, he choked out, “Mom, I’ll talk to you later.” I wanted to laugh, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw my stepdaughter frowning deeply. 2 The first time I saw Sophia, the floating text warned me she was trouble. Deep schemer. Unscrupulous. She was fiercely protective of her biological mother and hostile toward her father, let alone a stepmother like me. On my first day in the Sterling house, her attitude was cold but restrained. But when I picked up a peony from a vase, she charged at me and snatched it away. “Don’t touch my mom’s things!” The flower was wilting anyway; the snatch destroyed it completely. She enunciated every word: “Every chair, painting, and flower arrangement in this house was chosen by my mom. You are not allowed to touch a single thing.” I looked at her trembling hands and felt a complicated emotion. She was just a teenager, but her eyes held a sharpness and alertness beyond her years. Like a little wolf with its hackles raised, ready to bite. At first, I thought she just couldn’t accept a stranger invading her territory. So I decided not to fight her head-on. I smiled faintly and withdrew my hand. “Okay. As long as you like it.” But I didn’t expect she had this video trap waiting for me. 3 I remembered the scene in the video. It happened on my third day in the house. She had locked herself in her room all evening. Seeing she hadn’t come down for dinner, I knocked on her door. She let me in but didn’t speak. “If you’re trying to protest, a hunger strike is a terrible method.” “I’m not that stupid,” she said coldly. “Sarah, you were an archery champion. Why did you marry my dad?” I yawned. “Because your dad is rich.” “Did you marry my dad for his money?” I looked at her serious face and smiled. “Partly, I guess. You’re just a kid, don’t overthink it.” She interrupted me. “My dad has a lot of illegitimate kids outside. Even if you have a son, getting the inheritance won’t be easy.” Weird. Do teenagers know this much these days? She sounded like a cynical adult. “Don’t worry about that. Rest assured, your dad and I won’t be giving you a little brother.” I thought I was being friendly enough, hoping to diffuse her hostility. I never expected she was secretly recording. [This stepmom is weak. Can’t see the villainess’s true colors.] [But the villainess didn’t win either. Her cheap dad is gonna be furious.] Indeed, when we got home, Richard was livid. He raised his hand to slap her. Sophia stiffened her neck, closed her eyes, with a “hit me if you dare” expression. “Hey, stop,” I easily blocked Richard. “You drank too much. Go throw up.” I’m retired, but I was a professional athlete. Shoving a half-drunk man is child’s play. After dealing with him, I turned to Sophia. Sophia flinched. “You said those words yourself. Hitting me won’t change that!” The floating text was laughing. [Finally seeing this brat scared! LMAO!] [She deserves it. No discipline growing up. She’s gonna ruin the male lead later!] I raised an eyebrow. “It’s better your grandparents know sooner rather than later. I’m not mad about that.” “But I am curious about one thing.” “Sophia, why is there a camera in your room?” 4 I watched the video. The angle was from her desk. If she had held a phone up, I would have seen it. She froze, pursing her lips silently. But the text stream knew. [Sophia is a psycho. She installed a camera in her own room.] [For her mom to watch, right? This mother-daughter pair is insane.] [I just hope they don’t hurt my precious Bella.] I was shocked. For her mom to watch? Why? “Did you install it yourself? Why?” Since I didn’t get it, I asked directly. Sophia hesitated before speaking. “It’s your fault.” I was speechless. What? How is this on me? “My mom worries about me being alone here. The camera lets her see that I’m doing my homework every day. If you hadn’t come, she wouldn’t be this worried.” My jaw dropped. Then I squatted down, put my hands on her shoulders, eyes tearing up. “Sophia… I was a rebel growing up. I hated it when my mom read my diary.” “I never imagined there was a child as obedient and sensible as you in this world!” Sophia froze. The text froze. Her face turned red. She stammered, “W-what are you talking about?” “But,” I changed my tone, “everyone has privacy. Your room is your privacy. You have the right not to share it with anyone.” “No matter who it is, even if your closest mom asks for a camera, you can refuse. You know that?” The kid stared blankly for a moment, then suddenly shook off my hands. “My mom didn’t ask for it! What do you know?” Stomp stomp stomp. Her footsteps faded up the stairs. I sighed. If her mom didn’t ask, then she really did it voluntarily. Sacrificing her privacy just to give her mom peace of mind? Sophia breaks my heart.

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1 Lila, the new medical examiner, claimed she could hear the dead. During an autopsy, she suddenly wept. “He was only thirty,” she cried. “His wife left him, his son is very ill, and he died in agony on a construction site.” She whispered, “His wife’s name is Laura. Even after being betrayed, he still loves her… He’s begging her to care for their son.” All eyes turned to me. My name is Laura. I called it a coincidence—until the autopsy report confirmed every detail Lila had described. Just then, the victim’s son rushed in and called me “Mommy!” I’ve never had a child. My fiancé Jack accused me of hiding an ex. Colleagues scorned me. I was fired. Stunned, I wandered outside and was hit by a car. When I woke, I was back—back to the day the new examiner made her unbelievable claim … Lila’s tragically beautiful voice filled the autopsy theater. “This is just awful. He was only thirty years old… to lose his life like this.” The other examiners froze, their eyes fixed on her. “Lila, what are you talking about?” “We haven’t even received the victim’s file yet. How do you know he was thirty?” Her words only made Lila’s performance more convincing. She choked back a sob. “I don’t just know his age. I know how he died…” Skeptical glances were exchanged, but Lila, lost in her tragic trance, continued. “His wife ran off with another man. His son was born with kidney failure. He was trying to earn money for the surgery, working a dangerous construction job, when a rebar pierced straight through his organs. Massive hemorrhaging, cardiopulmonary shock… he bled out in agony.” “With his last breath, he whispered his wife’s name. He wanted to tell her… that even after she betrayed him, he never stopped loving her!” “He died trying to save their son. All he wants now is for his wife to honor what they once had and take care of their poor boy.” “His son… he’s only seven, just old enough for first grade. He hoped she would come back, get him through the surgery, and walk him to his first day of school…” As Lila’s heart-wrenching monologue went on, the world around me seemed to warp and shimmer. I knew, with a chilling certainty, that I had been reborn. A colleague noticed my daze. “Laura? Are you okay? You look pale.” Before I could answer, Lila, her eyes red and accusing, cut in. “I know why Laura’s so upset. It’s because the dead man’s wife… is you. Laura!” A collective gasp went through the room. “Lila, have you lost your mind? Laura’s not even married, how could she have a kid?” But as they started to chide Lila for her baseless accusations, an email alert pinged. The victim’s official file from the CID had arrived. One of my colleagues opened it. His face went slack with shock. The others crowded around his monitor, their murmurs turning into stunned silence. After a long moment, they stared at Lila, their expressions a mixture of awe and disbelief. “No… way. It’s exactly… word for word… what Lila just said.” Lila let out a long, weary sigh, as if burdened by a great gift. “I wasn’t making it up,” she said softly. “Everything I said was true.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Because I can hear the voices of the dead.” The statement hung in the air, electric. Every eye in the room landed on me. After the file had so perfectly validated her story, they were believers. They believed Lila had a supernatural gift. Staring back at their probing faces, the memories of my past life—my first life—came flooding back. Lila’s claim. Her accusation that I was the runaway wife of the victim, David Miller. My feeble attempts to deny it. Then David Miller’s son arriving, clinging to my leg, wailing, “Mommy, why did you leave me?” I had never been pregnant. It was impossible. But just as I was about to demand a DNA test, my own fiancé, my boss Jack, had torn into me, calling me a monster. “No wonder you never wanted to talk about your past! Laura, you’re disgusting!” Scorned by everyone, I was summarily dismissed from the department, told that a forensic examiner with such a depraved moral compass was a stain on their reputation. The day I was fired, I was a ghost, wandering aimlessly until a car’s headlights filled my vision. Snapping back to the present, I forced a calm I didn’t feel into my voice. “Laura is a common name,” I said, looking directly at Lila. “There are thousands of us. What makes you so certain his wife is me?” Unfazed, Lila met my gaze, her eyes welling with manufactured pity. “Laura, I was trying to spare you the embarrassment. But if you’re going to deny it… I have no choice.” “The victim didn’t just tell me his wife’s name. He told me what she did for a living. Her profession is identical to yours.” I opened my mouth to argue, but another sharp ping cut through the tension. The full autopsy report was complete. Every head turned to the main screen. And then, a collective intake of breath. The results were, once again, a perfect match for Lila’s clairvoyant account. Cause of death: internal organ perforation, massive hemorrhage, cardiopulmonary shock. Died in excruciating pain. The room fell silent. My colleagues stared at me, their initial skepticism hardening into cold judgment. Lila’s voice, thick with emotion, broke the silence. “Now do you believe me?” she asked the room. “I knew how he died before the report was even finished, all from his final thoughts. This proves I’m not lying!” The implication landed like a sledgehammer. “If Lila isn’t lying…” someone whispered, “…then Laura is.” “I can’t believe it. She really is his runaway wife. And they have a kid that old…” Lila shot me a look, a flicker of dark triumph in her eyes. I remembered that same look from my last life, and a cold fury rose in my chest. But before I could expose her, a commotion erupted outside the autopsy theater doors. Curious, a colleague opened the door to find a small boy throwing a tantrum in the hallway. I recognized him instantly. He was the boy who had clung to my leg and called me “Mommy” in my past life. I tried to step back, out of sight, but it was too late. The boy saw the open door and bolted inside. He ran first to the gurney, sobbing, “Daddy!” Then, his eyes found me. He stared for a second, a look of shocked recognition on his face, before launching himself at me, wrapping his arms around my legs in a death grip. “Mommy… Mommy… please don’t leave me again!” Without waiting for a response, the boy grabbed my hand, trying to drag me toward the body on the table. His voice was hoarse from crying. “Mommy, Daddy was talking about you this morning! He said he just needed to save up a little more money before he came to find you, so you wouldn’t think he was poor and run away again.” “But Daddy… he worked too hard… he had an accident… he died on the job!” “Waaah! Mommy, please don’t abandon me! Daddy’s gone because of you! Please just say you’re my mom! Don’t make me an orphan with no mommy and no daddy!” The boy’s anguish was so palpable it swayed half the room. They started turning on me. “Laura, this is just wrong. How can you stand there and watch your own son suffer like this?” I wrenched my hand away from the boy’s grasp. “Are you all out of your minds?” I said, my voice sharp with disbelief. “I’ve never been pregnant. How could I have a child this old?” “Besides,” I added, my voice rising, “I’m engaged to Jack! If I were married with a son, why would I be planning to marry someone else?” My words gave them a moment’s pause. This was a professional forensic lab, not a daytime talk show. A more neutral colleague stepped forward. “Okay, kiddo, I think you might be confused,” he said gently. “Come with me. I’ll help you arrange for your dad to be taken to the funeral home.” He reached for the boy, but the child clung to my leg even tighter. “You are my mommy! Why won’t you say it?” he shrieked, tears and snot streaming down his face. “I already lost my daddy… I can’t lose you too…” “Mommy, please don’t leave me, please… wahhh…” His desperate, heart-rending cries shattered the last vestiges of doubt in the room. The raw, primal need for a parent… it couldn’t be faked. Another colleague, unable to watch any longer, spoke up. “Laura, this is shameful. You’re the man’s next of kin, and you’re standing here pretending to be a stranger while we dissect him?” “And you have the nerve to say you’ve never been pregnant when your son is right here…” The accusations were identical to my past life. I gritted my teeth. “I’ve told you, I have never been pregnant, and this is not my child. Falsely accusing someone is a serious offense!” My threat was met with a sudden, sharp laugh. It was Lila. “Laura, your acting is superb,” she said, shaking her head in mock admiration. “You don’t belong in forensics; you should be in Hollywood. The boy is literally calling you ‘Mommy,’ and you’re still playing dumb. You’ve got some serious nerve.” Her words tipped the scales. The looks I received from my colleagues were now laced with pure contempt. Before I could retort, Lila walked over to the boy and knelt beside him. “Don’t you worry, sweetie,” she cooed. “Even if your mother won’t acknowledge you, your Auntie Lila will get you justice.” She looked back up at me. “Alright, Laura, that’s enough. If you have a shred of decency left, you’ll take your son home and raise him properly.” “We’re all colleagues here. If you admit your mistake now, we won’t take this any further.” A chorus of agreement rose from the others. “She’s right, Laura. It’s not too late to make things right.” “The boy is so pitiful. As his mother, don’t you feel anything?” Facing their unanimous condemnation, I took a deep, steadying breath, suppressing the storm of emotions inside me. “I’ll say it one last time. I have never been pregnant, and he is not my son. If you continue with these baseless accusations, I will sue every single one of you for slander.” After my declaration, I shoved the boy off my leg. I turned to leave, but my path was blocked. My fiancé, Jack, the head of our team, stood in the doorway. He took in the bizarre, tense atmosphere. “Is the autopsy report finished? What are you all doing just standing around?” he barked. “Our job is to speak for the dead, not stand around collecting a paycheck!” His reprimand soured the mood even further. Lila immediately stepped forward. “Chief, you’re just in time. The report is done, but… there’s been a complication. It concerns your fiancée, Laura…” Seeing Lila’s dramatic pause, Jack pressed her for details. Without hesitation, Lila and the others recounted the entire, sordid story. As he listened, Jack’s face turned a sickly shade of green. He stared at me, his brow furrowed in a deep, painful line. “No wonder,” he breathed. “No wonder you always shut down when I asked about your past.” “You already had a kid with some other guy out there, and you lied to me, telling me you were single!” Ignoring my attempts to interject, he walked over to the boy and crouched down. “Son,” he asked, his voice low and serious, “are you absolutely sure that Laura is your mother?” The boy nodded, his voice trembling with a convincing mix of fear and sincerity. “Yes, sir. I’m sure.” “But… Mommy thinks Daddy is too poor. She doesn’t like him… and she doesn’t like me…” That was all Jack needed to hear. His face contorted with rage. “To have a child and not raise it… women like you should be put in front of a firing squad!” As Jack’s words hung in the air, Lila added her own condemnation. “Laura, you are morally bankrupt. I’m ashamed to even call you a colleague!” “This child is seven and has kidney failure! It’s obviously because of long-term neglect. If he had grown up with a loving mother taking care of him, he would be a healthy, happy boy, not… not this!” Facing the same wall of disgust and hatred from my previous life, I took a deep breath and looked Jack in the eye. “Jack, we’ve been together for three years. We’re about to get married. You know me better than anyone. You know I would never be involved with another man, let alone have his child.” “Before we got engaged, your parents did a background check on me. If there was anything to find, they would have found it…” Jack’s eyes blazed with crimson fury. “Don’t you dare bring my parents into this!” he roared. “Do you have any idea what I did for you? Because you ‘didn’t want to talk about the past,’ I got on my knees and begged them not to investigate you!” “And all along, you had another man, and a seven-year-old son with him! What have you done to me? I can’t believe you’d be so shameless as to use my parents as a shield when you know perfectly well they never looked into you!” His outburst silenced the entire room. Everyone stared at me with revulsion, instinctively taking a step away. Lila pushed the boy’s hand into mine. “It’s over, Laura,” she said, her expression grave. “Stop denying it. Just take your son and your husband’s body and go.” “We were colleagues, after all. I truly don’t want to see you abandon your family. I’m just trying to help you find your way back…” The others chimed in, their voices a chorus of judgment. “Yeah, Laura, just go. And don’t come back to work until you’ve sorted this mess out. None of us want to work with someone who has no morals.” “Laura, if you have any conscience left, take that poor boy to a hospital. Give your husband a proper burial. It’s not too late to atone for your sins!” As their accusations rained down on me, my body began to tremble. But this time, it wasn’t from fear. It was the thrill of the counterattack. I lifted my head and met their gazes, my voice ringing out clear and strong. “You all really believe it, don’t you? That I had a child out of wedlock, abandoned him and his father, and ran off with someone else?” “I’ll say it again. Slandering me like this will have legal consequences.” At the mention of the law, their expressions soured even further. They thought I was threatening them. Jack looked at me as if I were something vile he’d scraped off his shoe. “Laura, all the evidence points to you being a deadbeat mother and a cheating wife. As of this moment, I am officially breaking off our engagement!” As soon as he finished, Lila added, “Just go, Laura. Take the boy. You can still salvage this. Think of how pitiful he is…” But before she could finish her saintly plea, I cut her off. The timing felt just right. A slow, cold smile spread across my lips. “Shut your filthy mouth,” I said to Lila, each word dripping with ice. Then, I turned and called out towards the door of the autopsy theater. “You can come out now!”

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Just before Christmas, my boyfriend of seven years suddenly told me he bought a Mercedes. I was stunned. We didn’t have much money. We had been scrimping and saving for years to afford a wedding. And he spent it all in one go? Later, I thought maybe he did it to save face when driving me back to my hometown for the holidays, so I reluctantly accepted it. But just as I was about to put my luggage in the trunk, he looked at me blankly and said, “You should take the train. I have to pretend to be Julie’s boyfriend again this year. Taking you along would be inconvenient.” The next day, he posted on social media: “Finally got the Mercedes my future mother-in-law dreamed of. Just don’t know when I can officially marry you into the family.” He got 99+ likes and blessings. Meanwhile, because I couldn’t get a train ticket, I had to take an illegal cab and got into a serious accident on the highway. 1 I lay in the hospital for three days. The first thing I did when I woke up was call my boss. “Boss, does that offer to transfer me to the branch office still stand?” “Of course, as long as you’re willing to go.” My chest ached. But I chose to leave without hesitation. After hanging up, I realized Seth had called me twenty-nine times. A sneer curled my lips. It must have been hard for him. It’s the holidays; everyone is busy. He had to accompany his fake mother-in-law, and his crush of over a decade. Yet he still remembered to call me. Just as the thought crossed my mind, Seth’s thirtieth call came through. As soon as I answered, he started yelling. “Sue, what kind of game are you playing not answering the phone? Do you know that three days ago, some scammer claiming to be a cop called me saying you were in a car accident and told me to go to the City Hospital?” “If I weren’t smart, I would have been tricked.” “Tell me, did you hire someone to trick me just to ruin my gig as Julie’s fake boyfriend? You’re too much.” Thanks to his reminder, I realized I had been in a coma for three days. The aftereffects of the accident hit me then. My head throbbed. I replied casually, “Oh, okay, I got it. If that’s all, I’m hanging up.” I hung up. But a second later, Seth called again. “Sue, why did you hang up on me? Are you trying to be unreasonable again?” “Do you have to ruin everyone’s holiday?” Listening to his accusations, my grip on the phone tightened. I couldn’t hold back. “Seth, I was in a car accident. My head hurts like hell right now, and I really don’t want to argue with you. If you want to vent, wait until I’m discharged.” There was a suffocating silence on the other end. Maybe Seth never thought the accident was real. After all, in the seven years we dated, he pretended to be Julie’s boyfriend every Christmas. Because of my jealousy, I argued and fought with him countless times. He was used to thinking I was just causing drama during the holidays. So if I didn’t answer the phone, I must be giving him the silent treatment. If the police called, it must be a scam I orchestrated. While I was lost in thought, Seth’s voice finally sounded. “Give me the hospital address. I’m coming over now.” He hung up hurriedly. Tears welled up in my eyes. Seth, Julie, and I grew up in the same neighborhood complex. We were childhood friends. During the years Seth chased after Julie, I chased after Seth. Until seven years ago, after being rejected by Julie for the hundredth time, a disappointed Seth came to me. “Sue, I can date you, but I have one condition. As long as Julie needs me to pretend to be her boyfriend, I won’t marry you.” I agreed. I thought as long as I could warm his heart, he would be mine sooner or later. But in the seven years we dated, I tried everything to move him. Yet Seth never once offered to take me home. In the eyes of everyone in our complex, he and Julie were the couple. And I, his girlfriend of seven years, was at best a childhood friend. Even when I threatened him with the baby in my belly. The next day, Seth handed me an abortion consent form. “Sue, go to the hospital and get rid of it. My parents think my girlfriend is Julie. I can’t marry you right now.” He was terrifyingly affectionate. And I was in agonizing pain. I actually didn’t understand why I loved Seth so much. Maybe because when I was little and my stepmother beat me, only he took me into his home, applied medicine to my wounds, and gave me food. But until this life-threatening accident. I suddenly realized. Love that you have to beg for isn’t love; it’s just a scumbag. 2 Seth said he was coming. But he didn’t arrive until 8 PM the next day. Seeing his dusty, weary appearance, I almost felt sorry for him. After all, from the phone call yesterday until now, he had been busy. Busy helping Julie choose a wedding ring. Busy helping Julie’s mom buy groceries for the New Year. Busy playing mahjong with Julie’s relatives. Julie’s social media feed was flooded with pictures of Seth pleasing her family. As soon as he entered the ward, Seth loosened his tie, threw it on the extra bed, and said, “Why are you so stupid? Taking an illegal cab.” “Making me drive back and forth during the holidays.” He walked to my bedside and opened a bottle of water for himself. I listened to him gulping down the water, looking at my reflection in the glass window under the fluorescent light. Was I not miserable enough? So Seth didn’t even ask how I was. But I was pretty miserable. Half my face was swollen like a pig’s head, and my forehead was wrapped in gauze. The only explanation was that Seth found my accident annoying. Annoying enough that he, my boyfriend of seven years, had to drive 30 miles at night to see me. While I was lost in thought, Seth finished his water, turned around, and tossed a ring in front of me. “Here, didn’t you want a customized ring three years ago? Consider this my apology for causing your accident.” I instantly saw the capital letters engraved on the ring—”JY.” My name is Sue. But I knew the letters stood for “Julie Young.” This ring was identical to the one Julie posted on her social media, where she and Seth were cheek to cheek. Maybe the pain in my chest was too intense. I held the ring and said, “Seth, you can’t just give rings randomly unless you’re getting married.” Seth was slightly stunned. The next second, his face turned cold. “Dropping hints again? Sue, how desperate are you to get married? I told you long ago, as long as Julie needs me to play her boyfriend, I won’t marry.” “Enough. I know you’re in a bad mood because of the accident, but that’s no reason to threaten me with marriage.” My heart felt like it was being pricked by needles. Just as I was about to say, “Fine, let’s break up then.” Seth’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and answered anxiously. “Hello, Julie? What, your mom wants me to come back and play mahjong with Aunt May? Okay, wait for me, I’m coming home right now.” After hanging up, Seth picked up the water bottle he just drank from and said urgently, “I asked the doctor just now. Your accident didn’t hit any vital organs. It looks serious, but your life isn’t in danger.” “I found you a caregiver. You stay in the hospital peacefully. I’ll come pick you up when you’re discharged in three days.” With that, he turned to leave. Before stepping out, he didn’t forget to turn back and instruct me: “Rest well since you’re injured. Don’t cause drama. Tossing and turning during the holidays isn’t good.” 3 During my three days in the hospital, Seth never came back. He only sent me a WeChat message every midnight asking if my wound still hurt. I didn’t reply to any of them. Before, I clung to him because I craved the only warmth I had ever known growing up. I pestered him, held on tight. But now, I almost lost my life. What use was that tiny bit of warmth? Until the day I was discharged, Seth finally drove his new Mercedes to pick me up. Seeing me standing there without getting in. Seth looked impatient. “What are you standing there for? Get in.” “I have to go back and accompany Julie to her aunt’s house for New Year’s greetings.” His matter-of-fact tone reminded me of when he was choosing the car model. He would ask me every day with his phone. “Sue, what do you think of this model? Is this color good? Driving this Mercedes back to the complex should give us a lot of face, right?” I thought he had made up his mind to tell his parents about our relationship. Until the day we went to the dealership to place the order, I hugged him excitedly. “Seth, take me for a spin later, okay?” Seth looked at me coldly. “Sue, stop messing around. I bought this car so Julie would have face when we go back to our hometown for the New Year.” “Julie hasn’t even sat in it yet. How could I let you sit first?” With that, he left me at the dealership and drove off alone. Before, no matter how wronged I felt, I would endure it. But after a brush with death. I suddenly felt that this Mercedes was a bit dirty. I subconsciously turned to look at Seth. “This Mercedes cost 400,000. 100,000 of that was mine. Think about when you can pay me back.” I thought it through. Since Seth felt this car was bought for Julie. Then asking for my 100,000 back wasn’t too much. Seth was surprised. “Sue, you’re asking me to pay you back 100,000?” His questioning tone made my chest ache. But I had endured pain worse than this. So I immediately pulled out the list on my phone. “Although the 400,000 for the car was on my card, I’ve calculated every transfer you made to me in these seven years. It adds up to exactly 300,000. So it’s only right you pay me back 100,000.” Seth didn’t expect me to present him with a ledger. His face turned ashen. “Sue, I think the accident knocked your brain loose.” “You’re calculating money with me? We’ve been together for seven years.” With that, he got into the driver’s seat and drove his new Mercedes away. Watching his car leave, bitterness welled up in my heart. Maybe only at times like this would Seth remember I was his girlfriend of seven years! After all, in these seven years, every Christmas, he would spend half a year’s salary buying gifts for Julie and groceries for her family. Playing the part of Julie’s boyfriend to the fullest. But when we returned to the city where we worked, even if I bought slightly more expensive skincare products. He would nag for half a day. Saying I spent money recklessly and didn’t consider our future marriage at all. 4 I took a taxi back to the complex. As soon as I entered the yard, the uncles and aunties basking in the sun asked enthusiastically, “Sue, heard you got into a car accident on your way home. Are you okay?” I smiled and curled my lips. “I’m fine. I’ve been discharged.” Just as I finished speaking, one aunt leaned in and asked, “Sue, you, Seth, and Julie all work in the same city.” “Do you know when Julie and Seth are getting married? Honestly, those two have been dating for so many years and still haven’t married. Their parents are worried sick.” My chest filled with bitterness. Yes, everyone in the complex thought Seth and Julie were a couple. Because Julie’s parents pushed for marriage very hard. Julie didn’t want to get married, so she asked Seth to be her fake boyfriend. He played the role for ten years, longer than the time Seth and I had been dating. I suppressed the bitterness and smiled, “Should be soon. After all, they bought wedding rings this year.” With that, I turned and went up the dilapidated stairs. Just as I reached the third floor, I heard a coquettish voice coming from a half-open door. “Seth, you’re too much. You even won against my mom. Don’t forget she’s your future mother-in-law.” My heart tightened instantly. Especially seeing Julie leaning her whole body on Seth behind the mahjong table through the crack in the door. A stinging pain spread in my chest. And at the same table, besides Julie’s parents, were Seth’s parents. Hearing Julie’s complaint, Seth’s mom laughed immediately, “Julie, you’re our future daughter-in-law. What, you only help your own mom and not your future mother-in-law?” Seth’s mom’s teasing made the whole table burst into laughter. Listening to the laughter inside, needle-like pain pierced my heart. I didn’t understand why I was the one who had to hide in the dark. Pale-faced, I suddenly pulled the door open and walked in. “Heard the noise from far away, just wanted to come see.” Seeing me enter, Seth’s face darkened instantly. Julie also trembled, but in a moment she composed herself and walked towards me with a bright smile. “Oh, Sue, you’re discharged. I heard you got into a car accident on your way back.” “When did you leave the city? You should have told me earlier. I would have asked Seth to pick you up.” “Then you wouldn’t have had to take an illegal cab and get into an accident.” I clenched my palms tightly. Julie knew about my relationship with Seth long ago. But she still recklessly accepted Seth’s gifts. Let Seth play her boyfriend. I suppressed the anger in my chest and said, “I wouldn’t have had to take an illegal cab, but wasn’t my boyfriend borrowed by you to play your New Year boyfriend to deal with your parents?” Dead silence in the air. The sound of mahjong tiles inside stopped instantly. Seth suppressed his anger and walked towards me. “Sue, come with me for a moment. Let’s talk.” Saying that, he dragged my hand and went up to his house on the 4th floor. As soon as we entered, Seth looked at me furiously. “Sue, you won’t stop even after a car accident. How long are you going to cause trouble?” “Do you know doing this will bring bad luck to Julie? You know her mom is pushing for marriage.” I met Seth’s gaze and sneered, “So, just because I have no dad to love me, no mom to care for me, and no one to push for marriage, you treat me like a stinking rat that can’t see the light, refusing to tell your parents that I am your girlfriend of seven years.” Veins popped on Seth’s forehead. “Sue, why can’t you stop even after an accident?” “I don’t want to argue with you. Your dad and stepmom probably went back to her parents’ house, so no one is home. Don’t stay here. Go back to the city.” “Lest you make unreasonable trouble again.” I wanted to leave anyway. After all, every year I was willing to come home was for Seth. This place wasn’t my home. Suppressing the pain in my heart. “Don’t worry, I’ll take a bus and leave this afternoon.” Hearing me say this, a trace of surprise flashed across Seth’s face. You know, in previous years, I argued with Seth countless times because he was too close to Julie. Every time we argued until we were red in the face, Seth would yell at me to go back to the city early. But I never agreed to leave early once. I don’t know if Seth noticed something wrong with me, but he walked over and hugged me. “Be good. I know you’re mad at me for not driving you back and causing your accident. I apologize, okay?” But in a moment, he was startled by the sound of the door opening. He pushed me away in panic and said to his mother who entered, “Mom, why did you come up? I was explaining the misunderstanding to Sue.” “She must have thought I liked her because I helped her a few times in the city, and deliberately wanted to ruin my relationship with Julie.” Seth’s mom’s face was exceptionally gloomy. “Since it’s a misunderstanding, go down quickly. Julie is being scolded by her mom right now.” My heart ached like death. Even my back, which hit the corner of the table when Seth pushed me, throbbed with pain. But Seth didn’t look at me once. He left me and hurried out the door. As soon as Seth left, his mom looked at me coldly. “Sue, I watched you grow up. I thought you were just introverted, but I didn’t expect you to be so shameless, acting like a mistress just like your mom, ruining Seth and Julie’s relationship.” “Look at yourself. With your family background, do you think just because you seduced Seth, I would let you into my house?” Tears instantly slid down my cheeks. I didn’t expect that after dating Seth openly for seven years, I would end up with the title of a mistress. I sneered and met Seth’s mom’s gaze. “Auntie, have you ever thought that I am Seth’s girlfriend, and have been dating him for seven years?” “But don’t worry, after today, I won’t be anymore.” With that, ignoring the shock on her face, I turned and left Seth’s house. When I returned to my house, I started packing. I turned and left the complex where I grew up. Maybe after leaving this time, I really won’t come back. Left behind with me was Seth, who gave me the only warmth I knew.

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We had our wedding three years ago, but my pilot husband has canceled our appointment to make it legal at City Hall eighteen times. The first time, his female trainee had a test flight. I waited on the steps of the County Clerk’s office from opening until closing. The second time, he was driving us there when she called. He pulled a U-turn on the highway and dropped me off on the side of the road. After that, every time we scheduled a date to get our marriage license, his trainee would miraculously have some sort of crisis. Eventually, I decided to leave him. But the moment I boarded a plane to Paris, he went crazy and chased me halfway across the world. We’ve been “married” for three years, yet Ethan has never managed to sign the papers with me. Today was a milestone—his 1,000th successful flight. It was also the seventeenth time he promised we’d go to City Hall. But at his celebration dinner, while his direct supervisor was pressuring me to down shot after shot, Ethan was busy peeling shrimp and feeding them to Lexi, his female co-pilot trainee. I drank until I was dizzy and burning up with a fever. He didn’t spare me a single glance. Colleagues around the table sighed and clicked their tongues, looking at me with eyes full of pity. They felt I wasn’t worth the effort. Anyone with eyes could see who I was destroying my liver for. When the dinner ended, Ethan, who was supposed to take me to City Hall, flaked on me again. He pulled the car up to the restaurant entrance. As I reached for the door handle, he blocked me with one hand. “Lexi drank too much for me just now. I need to drive her home. You should call an Uber.” “We probably won’t make it to the Clerk’s office this afternoon. Let’s take a raincheck.” He didn’t even wait for my reaction. He hopped out, helped his trainee into the passenger seat—my seat—and buckled her in. We’ve been together eight years, “married” for three. This was the seventeenth time Ethan delayed making us legal because of Lexi. Usually, I’d break down crying. I’d scream, asking him who his actual wife was, and asking who had really been drinking for him all night. But this time, I just smiled. “Okay. Drive safe.” Ethan paused, clearly thrown off by my calmness. After a second, his cold demeanor returned. “I’ll buy you a gift tonight to make up for it.” He drove off immediately. Before he peeled away, he rolled up the window on the passenger side, terrified the wind might bother a drunk Lexi. In the past, he never allowed the smell of alcohol in his car. whenever I drank for him, he’d drive with the windows down, even in the dead of winter, freezing me to the bone. I realized then: he didn’t hate the smell of alcohol. He just didn’t care if I was cold. The midday sun in Seattle was scorching, but I felt nothing but a chill in my bones. I took a deep breath and put my birth certificate and social security card back into my bag. I knew it was time to let go of these eight years. That afternoon, I went straight to the airline’s HQ and handed in my resignation. “Does Ethan know you’re quitting?” my supervisor asked, surprised. I was the airline’s Gold Star Flight Attendant for seven years running. Leaving meant walking away from a promising career. I smiled bitterly. “I’ll tell him tonight. Though, I doubt he’ll care.” “It’s a shame,” the supervisor sighed. “You two flew new routes together, won ‘Best Crew’ together… even the CEO came to your wedding three years ago. Everyone was so jealous. But now…” She trailed off, shaking her head. Yes, those were beautiful memories. But memories are just ghosts. We can never go back. I got home around 10 PM. The apartment was cold and empty. My phone pinged. An Instagram notification. Lexi had tagged me in a story. “Thanks to Captain Ethan for staying by my side all afternoon! And for the reward: Taylor Swift tickets for tomorrow! Can’t wait! <3” I knew then that Ethan, who said he’d be home for dinner, wasn't coming back. This scenario had played out too many times in the last three years. I made myself a bowl of instant noodles and opened my email. I scrolled past offers from a dozen international airlines and clicked on the one from Air France. I hit "Accept" without hesitation and booked a ticket to Paris for two days later. Five years ago, Ethan had the biggest scare of his career on a flight to Paris. Since then, the city had been a taboo subject. He refused to fly there, and out of solidarity, neither did I. Ethan, once I go to Paris, I don't think we’ll ever see each other again. The next morning, I woke up and started packing. I was halfway through when Ethan walked in, wearing a pink dress shirt. A strong scent of rose perfume drifted in with him. I choked slightly on the smell. He used to hate perfume. Because of him, I hadn't worn any for years. I’d even thrown away my expensive collection. It turns out, he doesn't hate perfume. He just didn't like it on me. He saw the suitcases and paused. "Lexi was really hungover last night. It got late, so I grabbed a hotel room by myself. That's why I didn't come home." I looked up at him, surprised. In three years, this was the first time he’d ever offered an explanation without being asked. I nodded silently. He walked over, looking down at me. "You're packing? Do you have a flight?" "Something like that," I said. He seemed to relax hearing that. "I have some errands to run today. I just came back to grab something. I won't be eating lunch here." "Okay." I didn't look up, continuing to fold my clothes. I had planned to tell him over lunch that I quit and that we were done. But it seemed I wouldn't get the chance. Ethan grabbed a red gift bag and a jacket hanging by the door, then hurried out. Crash! The moment the door slammed shut, a picture frame that had hung there for eight years fell. Glass shattered everywhere. It was a photo of us at our first concert. We were holding hands, grinning like idiots. That day, he promised that no matter how busy he was, he’d take me to a concert every year. But ever since Lexi became his trainee, he had forgotten that promise entirely. The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the empty room. I stood there for a long time before sweeping up the glass. Then, I threw the photo—and the last shreds of my attachment—into the trash. By evening, I was exhausted and lying on the bed when my best friend, Sarah, called. "What the hell is wrong with Ethan? This is too much. Check Instagram. He's practically flaunting his affair with that fox, Lexi." "You guys aren't even divorced yet! How can he do this?" I opened the app. Lexi’s latest post was at the top of my feed. She was wearing a Van Cleef & Arpels clover necklace, holding the red gift bag Ethan had retrieved earlier. So, he came home just to get her concert gift. The caption read: "Three years of knowing you. So lucky to have you, Captain Ethan. Happy 3rd Anniversary!" It hit me then. Third anniversary? Right. Today was our wedding anniversary. The third anniversary of a marriage that wasn't legally real. We hadn't celebrated it once, so even I had forgotten. I exhaled slowly. "He doesn't need a divorce, Sarah. We never got the marriage license." "What?!" Sarah screamed. "You've been 'married' for three years and he still hasn't signed the papers?!" Yeah. Three years. Seventeen cancellations. At 11 PM, Ethan actually came home. He took off his coat and went to hang it up, but froze when he saw the bare spot on the wall. "Where's our photo?" He walked into the bedroom, looking slightly panicked. "It fell and broke," I said calmly.

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My mother taught me from a young age that a woman’s body, once sullied, should be thrown away like trash. So when my wife, on the day of our tenth anniversary, abandoned me and a hall full of guests because of a hotel invitation “mistakenly” sent by a young man, I didn’t stop her. I simply smiled, tore the thirty-thousand-word letter of promises she had written for me into confetti, and made two announcements. First, we were moving the party to the hotel. Second, the young man’s parents and friends were now the evening’s guests of honor. … When our large, righteous crowd arrived outside the door of the presidential suite, the sounds from within were unmistakable. The raw sounds of their passion, punctuated by the young man Leo’s breathless, high-pitched cries of “Mommy,” echoed down the hotel corridor. The sound silenced everyone, and a cold sweat broke out on their backs. Leo’s actual mother, standing beside me, looked as if she’d been struck by lightning. At the sound of her son’s cries, her eyes rolled back, and she fainted dead away. Believing that such joy shouldn’t be kept to myself, I gave my assistant a subtle nod. In an instant, the heated scene inside the room was being broadcast live, streamed across every major news outlet and social media platform. The wedding of a titan of industry already had immense public interest. Add a live-streamed infidelity drama, and the viewership exploded. I immediately signed a dozen impromptu advertising deals, making a fortune in minutes. If I couldn’t keep the tainted woman, I might as well profit from her passionate performance. It was only fair, wasn’t it? “Mommy, am I making you happy? Am I so much more fun than that old man?” the boy’s panting voice asked. His question was answered by my wife, Isabella’s, even more enthusiastic response. While the temperature inside the room continued to climb, the atmosphere outside plunged to absolute zero. I watched the live stream revenue tick upwards, feeling no rush to knock. It was Leo’s mother, revived and frantic, who was clawing at the door like a caged animal. Thirty minutes later, through the haze of their frenzy, they finally heard her desperate pounding. The moment the door opened, the world exploded in a sea of flashbulbs. Isabella, seeing the army of cameras, froze for only a second. Her first instinct was not to cover her own body, which was a canvas of red marks, but to whip the bedsheet off the mattress and wrap it around the naked, trembling form of Leo. Once the boy was secured, she stormed towards me. There was no shame in her eyes, no guilt in her voice—only a raw, impotent fury. “Adrian Vance, are you insane? Are you trying to ruin him?” she shrieked. “He’s only twenty! How is he supposed to live his life after this? I’m warning you, get rid of these people right now and post a video clarifying this was all a misunderstanding. If you don’t, I will make you regret it.” I had to laugh. I had made the mistake of treating a dog like a person, and now it thought it had the right to bark orders at me. I kicked her aside and walked directly to the boy. I gestured for my bodyguards to rip the sheet off him. Before they could move, Leo scrambled onto the windowsill, screaming through his tears. “Adrian, brother, it was an accident! I meant to send that text to my friends, I sent it to Isabella by mistake! She was just being kind, helping me get through a tough time! Why are you trying to destroy me for it?” His shivering, sheet-clad figure was a picture of pathetic misery. Murmurs started to ripple through the crowd. “Isn’t Adrian Vance being a little too harsh? The kid’s just a boy.” “Yeah, what if he actually jumps?” Isabella was in a panic, not daring to get closer to the window. “Leo, don’t! You did nothing wrong! Adrian is the one at fault! Don’t do anything foolish!” she pleaded. I watched their heartfelt drama, raising an eyebrow. I walked over to the boy, placed a finger to my lips to silence his pathetic whining, and then, before anyone could react, I gave him a gentle push. His terrified scream echoed as he plummeted from the hundred-meter-high ledge. The crowd gasped, their eyes wide with disbelief. Isabella flew at me, her hands clamping around my throat like a vice. The veins in my neck bulged, and my breath thinned to a razor’s edge. My bodyguards surged forward, but I waved them off. Isabella’s eyes were bloodshot, boring into mine as if willing me to die and join Leo in hell. A dry, rasping laugh escaped my throat. Suddenly, this all felt so pointless. The last time I had seen such ferocity in her eyes was years ago, when one of my father’s old enemies had cornered me. She had thrown herself in front of me without a second thought, grabbing the hand that held the knife. With that same savage expression, she had guided the blade into her own body, again and again, until the food in her stomach mixed with the blood that poured out of her. A waterfall of crimson had flowed down her chest. The attacker, horrified, had turned and fled. Before the ambulance took her away, she had pressed her cold, sweaty forehead against mine, her gaze unwavering. “Adrian,” she’d sworn, “as long as I’m here, no one will ever hurt you.” But now, to protect her boy, she stood on the opposite side, ready to kill me herself. “He’s okay! He’s okay, he’s alive!” shouts from below broke through my thoughts. Everyone looked down and saw a wide maintenance platform just a few stories below the window. Leo had never intended to jump. Isabella released me, her face flooded with the joyous relief of someone who had just survived a catastrophe. She scrambled to the edge, then rushed down the stairs to get to him, pulling his trembling body into a fierce embrace. “Don’t be afraid, Leo. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” The same words. It had only been a few short years, and now she was saying them to someone else. Fine. A cheap promise is the last thing worth holding onto. I walked over to them. Isabella instinctively shielded Leo behind her, another painfully familiar tableau. I drew the tactical knife from my bodyguard’s belt and advanced with a smirk. Isabella’s own security team moved to protect her, but she waved them away with a sharp command. Using every ounce of strength I possessed, mimicking the pressure I had just felt on my own neck, I drove the blade deep into her chest, right where her heart should be. I twisted it. Once again, I watched blood gush from her body, but this time, I felt none of the old pain. She gripped my hand, pushing the knife in deeper, her expression defiant. “Are you satisfied, Adrian? I’ll take the blame for my mistakes,” she gasped. “But I will never forgive what you did to Leo today.” I paused in the act of wiping my bloody hand on a handkerchief and tossed it onto the boy’s pathetic, naked form. “Is that so?” I sneered. “I look forward to it.” I turned to Leo, patting his cheek. “The next time you provoke me, I’ll make sure you get to experience what a fall from a hundred meters really feels like.” I just never imagined that Isabella’s revenge would involve our child. When I burst into the hospital, the first thing I saw was Leo holding my son high in the air. The baby’s heart-wrenching screams tore through me, twisting my insides into knots. Isabella just stood there, watching, her face a blank mask. “Isabella, are you insane? That’s your child too!” I stared at her, unable to comprehend. Her expression remained cold. “I told you Leo was my line. Why did you have to cross it? Get on your knees and apologize to him. Then post a video confessing that the hotel scandal was a lie you invented. Do that, and I’ll give you back the child.” My body shook with uncontrollable rage. Leo, holding my son, chuckled. “Isabella, didn’t you read that an infant’s brain is as soft as tofu? I wonder what would happen if I just… gave him a little shake?” He started to violently shake the baby. My son’s cries intensified, piercing the air. My heart shattered. “Don’t touch him! I’ll kneel! I’m begging you, please, don’t hurt the baby!” I choked out, my voice breaking. “He’s so fragile. He can’t take it.” I slammed my knees onto the hard floor, begging for a shred of their humanity. Leo started a live stream, broadcasting my humiliation to the world. Millions of viewers poured in instantly. For three hours, I knelt and kowtowed, confessing that I was a madman who had slandered my wife and the student she sponsored. A tidal wave of abuse and insults washed over me from the live chat. When it was over, I stared at Leo, my eyes burning. “Are you satisfied now? Give me back my son!” Leo finally smiled, turning off the phone. Then, with lightning speed, he lifted my son high one last time and smashed him onto the ground. The crying stopped. The world went silent. I collapsed, my strength gone. Isabella seemed surprised for a moment, but her composure quickly returned. I roared and lunged forward, but her bodyguards held me back. Leo calmly wiped his hands with a wet wipe and tossed it in the trash. He looked at my son’s twitching body on the floor and snarled, “With a scum for a father, you deserved to die!” He then picked up my child, forcing his eyes—so much like mine—to look at me. “Don’t blame me, little guy. Blame your daddy. He’s the one who killed you.” Isabella came to my side, her arm wrapping around my shoulders. “The child was always sickly. It would have ended this way sooner or later. This is what you owed Leo.” I couldn’t believe those words came from her mouth. We had struggled for years to have him. After an injury early in our marriage, doctors said it would be nearly impossible for me to have children. But Isabella loved children, so I had endured years of treatments, diets, and bitter medicines. Finally, we had our son. The labor had lasted two days and one night. I had been there for all of it. The pain she went through… after he was born, I had a vasectomy. I never wanted her to suffer like that again. He was our one and only. But now, she didn’t even glance at the body. She just covered him with a cloth, as if he were a toy to be discarded. I shoved her away and snatched my son from her. She grabbed me, one arm locking around my waist, the other pinning my torso. I bit down on her hand, hard. In the struggle, my son coughed, a tiny, faint sound. “He’s not dead! My son is not dead!” I fought free and sprinted for the doctor’s office, clutching him to my chest. My fingers were just about to touch the doorknob when Isabella struck me from behind. A blow to the head. As I fell, my son slipped from my grasp. The last thing I saw before darkness took me was his tiny body hitting the floor, blood trickling from his nose and mouth. When I woke up, I was back in our home. I demanded to know where my son was. My men hesitated. “Miss Isabella… she took the young master to Mr. Leo’s university.” “She said Mr. Leo’s anatomy class was in need of an infant specimen for practice.” A roar filled my ears. I gritted my teeth. “Say that again.” “She’s… she’s letting Mr. Leo dissect the young master.” I hurled the bowl of medicine against the wall. It shattered, the dark liquid splashing everywhere. “Get the car. We’re going to the university.” Ten minutes later, I stood in the doorway of the anatomy lab. My son was on a steel table, surrounded by a dozen students, including Leo. His small body had already been dismembered. The little bundle who just yesterday could laugh and cry and call me “Dada” was now a heap of bloody flesh. His eyes, his intestines, lay scattered across the surgical tray. Leo saw me and beamed, pulling off his gloves. He held up a photo. “Brother, I have good news! Isabella is pregnant! Look, here’s the ultrasound of my baby. Isn’t he cute?” He took Isabella’s hand and placed it on her flat stomach. “Isabella, honey, I think he just kicked.” Isabella immediately told him to kneel down and press his ear to her belly to listen. Watching them, I started to laugh, a wild, unhinged sound. I drew my pistol and fired a shot that grazed Leo’s side, just a fraction of an inch from his abdomen. “Ah!” He doubled over, scrambling behind Isabella. She finally turned and saw me. “Adrian, have you lost your mind!” she screamed. I didn’t speak. I just kept walking towards them. I racked the slide. Another shot, this one on the other side of his stomach. As I advanced on Isabella, Leo threw himself at my feet, clinging to my legs. “Adrian, as long as I’m alive, I will never let you hurt her.” I was about to kick him away when he suddenly recoiled dramatically, clutching his stomach and crying out in pain. “Brother, are you blaming me for your son’s death?” he wailed. “It was your fault he was so weak in the first place! I was just ending his suffering! If you can’t stand the thought of Isabella having my baby, if you want her to be barren, just tell her to get an abortion! You don’t have to torture me like this! I can’t take it!” He curled into a ball, trembling as if in terror. His pathetic acting was so bad it was comical. Isabella shielded him protectively. “Adrian, you are the one most responsible for our son’s death,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “It was because of you, his useless father, that he suffered so much. You should be the one to die to atone for your sins.” She knew how guilty I felt about our son’s fragile health, and she used it as a weapon, twisting the knife. From behind her, Leo added, “The day your son died was the day Isabella got pregnant with mine. It’s a sign. Even he knew you weren’t worthy of being his father, so he came back to her womb to be with a better one.” I laughed, grabbing his chin and forcing his head up. My eyes were venomous. “Or maybe,” I whispered, “he came back to her womb to claim a life for me.” I pressed the muzzle of the gun against Leo’s groin and pulled the trigger. His shriek of agony echoed through the lab. Ignoring Isabella’s screams, I yanked him up by his hair, pointing the gun at the bloody ruin between his legs. “There, little brother. I’ve eliminated the problem for you. Aren’t you going to thank me? This is what it looks like when I can’t stand you. I don’t bother with your pathetic little traps and schemes.” The next second, a gunshot cracked, and a bullet seared past my ear. Blood trickled down my neck. I followed the trajectory back to its source, my gaze locking on Isabella. My world narrowed to a single point of madness. “Isabella. You shot at me?” Her eyes were blazing. “I warned you, Adrian. He’s just a boy. Leave him alone. You forced me to do this.” Leo was howling on the floor. “Isabella, he destroyed our chances of having a family! Kill him! Avenge our child!” Before she could answer, I smirked down at him. “Forget revenge. If you don’t get to an operating room right now, you’ll never have a child with anyone.” His wailing stopped instantly, replaced by a fresh torrent of silent, fat tears. Isabella’s face softened with pity. She helped him up and rushed him towards the exit, pausing only to throw one last threat over her shoulder. “I told you, Adrian. You will pay for this.”

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After my family went bankrupt, my mother, my younger sister, and I signed up for a survival challenge. The rules were simple: Each person starts with exactly $100. We had to survive for a month—eating, drinking, and existing—on just that bill. The winner would walk away with $100 million. Mom looked at my sister standing beside her, her smile dripping with indulgence. “Don’t you worry, sweetie. Your sister and I won’t spend a dime. You’ll have three hundred dollars all to yourself. If you’re thrifty, that should be plenty.” My sister hugged Mom’s arm, whining playfully. “Oh, Mommy, you’re the best! We’ll stick together and survive on the three hundred bucks!” I watched them, this portrait of deep maternal love, neither of them sparing a single thought for whether I lived or died. Silently, I tucked my hundred-dollar bill into my back pocket. 1 We were broke. Destitute. That’s when my sister, Chloe, found this “Budget Survival” competition. She claimed that if we could survive 30 days on a hundred bucks, the last one standing would win a fortune. She dragged Mom and me to the registration center without asking. Now, we were standing in a massive, sterile white arena along with ninety-seven other desperate souls, waiting for the clock to start. “Chloe, my precious girl, don’t worry,” Mom’s voice was soft enough to melt butter. She pinched Chloe’s cheek affectionately. “When we win first place, I’ll buy you that new Chanel set you wanted. And the Himalayan Birkin? It’s yours.” “Moooom,” Chloe drawled, leaning her head on Mom’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to suffer. We’ll work together. When we win, you manage all the money.” It was a touching scene. Heartwarming, really. If only I wasn’t the other daughter. Mom’s gaze finally shifted to me. The smile vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, hard indifference. “Harper, listen to me. You lived like a princess in our house for years, eating our food, wearing the clothes we bought. It’s time you paid us back. When the challenge starts, you know what to do.” I lowered my eyes, looking down at my washed-out, thrift-store t-shirt. Then I looked at Chloe. Even here, she was wearing a designer jacket worth five figures—something I wouldn’t dare touch with clean hands. A princess life? Did I ever have that? Suddenly, the massive screen in the center of the arena lit up. A screeching, high-pitched voice echoed through the hall. “Welcome, challengers, to Extreme Survival! I am your host, Goldie!” On the screen, a fat, golden piggy bank mascot danced around, its voice eerie enough to make my skin crawl. “The rules are simple! You each have $100 start-up capital. You must survive the next 30 days with this money!” “Every day at 5:00 AM and 5:00 PM, a pop-up supermarket will appear in the arena. It stocks everything you need, at real-world prices!” Goldie’s voice pitched up an octave, trembling with manic excitement. “One month later, among the survivors, the one with the highest remaining balance will be the sole winner of the $100 million grand prize! The remaining survivors will split a consolation pot of $100,000!” “Good luck!” As the voice faded, one hundred red envelopes rained down from the ceiling, landing precisely in front of each person. I picked mine up. Inside was a crisp, single $100 bill. Before I could even put it away, Mom’s voice barked in my ear, commanding and absolute. “Harper, give me your money. Your sister can’t handle hardship; she needs the extra cash.” I looked up. Mom had already shoved her own bill into Chloe’s hand, her face full of tenderness. “Chloe, listen to me. Harper and I won’t spend anything. You take the three hundred. If you’re careful, you’ll make it to the end.” Chloe’s eyes instantly welled up. She grabbed Mom’s hand. “No, Mom! I want us to make it together! We’ll survive on the three hundred as a team!” I watched them, feeling my heart sink into ice water. It froze, then cracked. Their plan was for “us” to survive on three hundred. That “us” clearly didn’t include me. They hadn’t spared a single thought on how I was supposed to survive without spending a penny. I gripped my hundred-dollar bill, took a silent step back, and put some distance between myself and that toxic pair. Suddenly, a commotion erupted in the crowd. “The store! The store is open!” Everyone’s attention snapped to the corner where a convenience store had materialized out of nowhere. Mom and Chloe were no exception; they craned their necks, already discussing what to buy. Now. While everyone was distracted by the store, I turned around. And I ran. I ran toward the shadows where no one was looking. 2 I ran for my life. The wind roared in my ears, and my heart hammered against my ribs like it wanted to break out. I didn’t dare look back. I knew if I did, I’d see Mom’s face twisted in disappointment and rage. She would grab me like she did when I was a child, pry my fingers open, take the money I was clutching, and shove it into Chloe’s pocket without hesitation. Because in her world, only Chloe mattered. Like that time at the theme park. We were a family of three then. The cable car stalled mid-air, dangling precariously over a valley. Mom held Chloe in a death grip, screaming at the first rescuers to arrive to take them down. She repeated it over and over: “Save my daughter! She’s little, she’s scared!” I was left alone in the swaying metal box, the wind howling through the cracks like ghosts. If I hadn’t screamed for help until my throat bled, maybe no one would have remembered there was another “daughter” up there. To my mother, Chloe was her child. I, Harper, was just a spare part. A tool. The arena was massive, empty like a giant warehouse. Luckily, the organizers had some humanity; there were clear signs pointing to “Supermarket #2” in the opposite direction. I burst into the store, gasping for air, and scanned the shelves. My brain was running like a supercomputer. One month. One hundred dollars. Rice and flour seemed the most cost-effective, but no. I noticed the fine print on the price tag: “Kitchen facility usage fee: $10/use.” Cooking was a luxury tax I couldn’t afford. Plus, heavy bags of flour would weigh me down. In a place where anything could happen, mobility was survival. Instant noodles were out, too. In high school, when Mom “forgot” to send my allowance, I survived on dry ramen bricks for months. The bloating, the indigestion, the acid reflux that burned my throat—I never wanted to feel that again. I survived, but my stomach didn’t. My eyes finally locked on my targets. A gallon of water: $1. A bulk pack of beef jerky and vacuum-sealed hardtack: $5. A multipack of toilet paper: $3. I paid immediately. Total: $9. Water is life. Jerky is protein and stays fresh. The crackers fill the void. If I rationed, this could last me five days. The toilet paper… well, in an emergency, it had multiple uses. As long as I minimized movement and kept my calorie burn low, I could live. I stuffed my supplies and my remaining $91 into my innermost pocket, keeping my hand pressed over it. Only then did I feel a faint sense of security. Leaving the store, I started hunting for a place to sleep. Passing a rest area, I stopped. 3 Not far away, a mother and daughter were huddled together. The young mother was tearing a small piece of bread. She gave the larger half to her daughter. “Eat, baby. You need strength.” The little girl shook her head sensibly and pushed the bread back. “Mommy eat. If Mommy doesn’t eat, I won’t eat.” The scene was blindingly wholesome. I could almost picture Mom and Chloe at the other supermarket right now. Mom would give all the best food to Chloe, watching her eat with a satisfied, doting smile. And Chloe would probably tear up, say something sweet like “Mom, let’s share,” and then guiltlessly consume the love meant only for her. Once, I naively asked, “Mom, why do you only like my sister and not me?” Now, I don’t ask. There is no why. Just like the sun doesn’t rise in the west, some people are just born without the right to be loved. I looked away, expressionless, and walked in the opposite direction. I found a corner under the bleachers of an open-air stadium. A large awning overhead blocked the dew. It was secluded enough to avoid most eyes. I shoved my water and paper into the corner, hugged the vacuum-sealed food to my chest, and curled up. The concrete floor was icy hard, hurting my bones, but I didn’t have time to complain. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to sleep. In this place, saving energy meant extending life. In a haze of sleep, I felt a weight on my chest. Hands groping. Wrong. I snapped my eyes open. A gaunt, sallow face was inches from mine. A man was trying to pull the food packet from my arms! Seeing me wake up, panic flickered in his eyes, followed by viciousness. He lunged, snatched the crumpled wad of cash from my pocket, and turned to run. “Give it back!” My brain buzzed. Blood rushed to my head. I didn’t think; I just tackled him, wrapping my arms around his legs. He tripped. Enraged, he turned and kicked me hard in the stomach. “Let go, you bitch! You wanna die?” Pain blinded me for a second, but I didn’t let go. I went feral. I used my nails, my teeth, anything to stop him. Back when I worked in a kitchen, a kind older woman taught me: If you meet a thug, don’t hit the face. It’s useless. Hit the weak spots. Incapacitate them. I saw my opening. I gathered every ounce of strength I had and kicked him squarely in the crotch. 4 “ARGH—!” The man let out a sound that wasn’t human. He curled into a ball, clutching himself. I scrambled over, pried his fingers open, and snatched back my $91. I gripped it so tight my knuckles turned white. “My money…” The man was sweating from pain, but he still tried to crawl toward me. My eyes went cold. I stomped down hard on his knee joint. CRACK. His leg bent at a sickening angle. I exhaled, pushing myself up. Only then did I realize a circle of people had gathered, pointing and whispering. The crowd parted. Mom and Chloe walked in. They had heard the commotion. “Harper! Are you insane?!” Mom saw the man on the ground, then looked at me with pure disgust. “How could you beat someone like that?!” Chloe chimed in, looking terrified, pointing a shaking finger at me. “Sis, you’re so violent… look at him, he’s bleeding!” I looked at them coldly. “He tried to rob me.” “He tried to rob you, so you break his leg?!” Mom’s voice screeched, as if I had committed a war crime. “Look at you! No manners, no heart! How did I give birth to something like you?!” “Our family might be broke, but we haven’t lost our conscience! You hurt him, you have to compensate him!” I clutched my money, silent. Mom pointed righteously at the food in my arms. “Forget money. Just give him the food you bought, and we’ll call it even!” I finally laughed. A dry, bitter sound. In my mom’s world, if Chloe is there, Chloe comes first. If Chloe isn’t there, strangers come first. I am always last. Sometimes I wonder what great sin I committed in a past life to deserve this mother. “No,” I said, the word hard as stone. “You dare talk back?!” Mom trembled with rage. “You ungrateful brat! You selfish wolf!” Chloe stepped forward, wearing her mask of saintly kindness. She reached out to take my food. “Sis, just listen to Mom. Look how pitiful he is. We can’t just leave him…” She reached for me. Just as her fingertips were about to touch the food package, the man on the ground began to convulse violently. His limbs twisted at impossible angles. A guttural gurgle rose from his throat. His eyes bulged, nearly popping out of their sockets. SNAP. A bone-chilling crack echoed through the silence. Under everyone’s horrified gaze, his neck snapped back 90 degrees on its own. His head lolled to the side. One second he was groaning; the next, he twitched and died.

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1 Since I was little, I’ve been like a shadow, trailing behind my older brother, Tyler. To the outside world, we were the enviable siblings of the wealthy Shen family, raised in the lap of luxury. Our birthdays were lavish garden parties at our estate, the kind people posted about on Instagram for weeks. Tyler was the undisputed king of our social circle. Handsome, athletic, a piano prodigy, and effortlessly cool. He was every girl’s crush and every parent’s benchmark for “the perfect son.” And me? I was his personal assistant disguised as a sister. He chased the school queen bee; I delivered the love notes. He skipped class to hit the arcade; I covered for him during roll call. He didn’t feel like doing homework; I pulled all-nighters finishing his essays. Don’t ask why. The answer is simple: I’m the adopted daughter, Chloe. When we were kids, Tyler used to terrify me. He’d say he was the boss of the house, and if I didn’t listen to him, he’d have Mom and Dad ship me back to the foster system in a cardboard box. That one sentence traumatized me into a people-pleaser. I spent my life nodding and “yes, brother”-ing my way through existence. Until today. Tyler sent me on another errand to buy a specific artisanal sandwich for his crush, Jessica. Halfway there, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Tyler: [Yo, short stack, did you get the breakfast yet?] I was out of breath. [Quit rushing me. The bakery is halfway across town. I’m not doing this next time.] He replied with a smug emoji: [You always say that, but you always do it. By the way, I’m broke. Spent my allowance on a gift for Jessica. Put the errand fee on my tab.] [Also, your new ‘brother’ is coming home today. You better stand with me. When he gets here, we need to put him in his place.] Sure enough, when I walked through the front door, I saw a stranger standing in the darkest corner of the foyer. His messy bangs covered his eyes, his head hung low. He wore a faded, thrifted hoodie and looked too thin, like a gust of wind could knock him over. His hands were rough, calloused from hard labor. But when he looked up, I froze. Tyler was considered the gold standard of looks, but this guy? He was on another level. He looked exactly like Mom—deep-set eyes, sharp features. He had that rare “tragic beauty” vibe, a mix of destitution and inherent nobility that clashed perfectly. His name was Sebastian. He was Mom’s biological son, switched at birth. In other words, Tyler had stolen his life and enjoyed seventeen years of wealth that belonged to him. But even with Sebastian standing right there, Mom instinctively patted Tyler’s hand, soothing him. “Don’t worry, Ty. You will always be the most important child in this house.” Mom’s attitude was my compass. I knew the drill: keep sucking up to Tyler. Sebastian, who had suffered in poverty for nearly two decades, radiated alienation. But his eyes… they were like a wolf’s. Wild. He said nothing, just staring at Mom until she squirmed. Finally, Mom walked over and gave him a stiff hug. “I’m sorry, my child. You’ve suffered so much.” Tyler chose that moment to let out a mocking laugh. “Mom, you guys are the real family. Now that you’re reunited, should I pack my bags?” Mom panicked instantly. She pushed Sebastian away and rushed to grab Tyler’s hand. “What are you saying? You are my baby. My precious son.” From an angle Mom couldn’t see, Tyler smirked at Sebastian. A look of pure victory. Sebastian’s expression didn’t change. It was as if Mom’s love—or lack thereof—didn’t matter to him. But I saw it. A flicker of loneliness in his eyes. Mom turned to him. “Sebastian, don’t mind him. Tyler is a victim in this, too.” Suddenly, floating translucent text appeared in the air before my eyes, like a livestream chat. [Are you kidding me? Tyler benefited the most! How is he a victim?] [Exactly. Tyler lived like a prince for 17 years while Sebastian got beaten by an abusive foster dad.] [I wish I could be a ‘victim’ like that.] I blinked, but the text remained. Sebastian stayed silent. Mom pulled me forward. “Chloe, be a good girl. Say hello to your new brother.” Behind me, Tyler pinched my arm—a signal. He wanted me to bully the new kid. Usually, I’d stick my chin up and say something bratty like, “He doesn’t look like my brother.” The floating text scrolled faster: [Here it comes. The classic scene. The villainess sister tells Sebastian to get lost, destroying his last shred of hope for this family.] [Ugh, poor Sebastian. Coming home just to be bullied by these demon siblings.] [Don’t worry. Sebastian becomes the ruthless CEO later. He bankrupts these two idiots. They end up fighting stray dogs for food under a bridge.] 2 Bankrupt? Fighting dogs for food?! Absolutely not. I spent years catering to Tyler’s every whim just to secure a comfortable future. I did not put in all that emotional labor to end up homeless! I needed to save my future. Immediately. My survival instincts kicked into overdrive. I plastered on the sweetest, most sugary smile I could muster and launched myself at Sebastian, wrapping him in a bear hug. “This brother is so handsome! I like him!” I held on tight, my voice dripping with syrup. “I’m Chloe. Welcome home, big brother!” He went rigid. The icy mask on his face finally cracked. I could feel his confusion, his hesitation as his hand hovered awkwardly over my back. I snickered internally and grabbed his hand, dragging him toward the dining room. “Brother, you’re too skinny! This won’t do. Dinner is ready, you need to eat a lot and get strong!” The floating comments went wild: [??? What is happening? Did the villainess get possessed?] [She’s definitely plotting something. She’s Tyler’s number one lackey. In the book, she tortures the MC.] At the dinner table, Mom’s favoritism was blatant. She piled all the expensive dishes in front of Tyler and me. In front of Sebastian? A plate of stir-fried spinach. Even Mom felt a little awkward. She picked up a piece of glazed salmon. “Sebastian, try this. It’s delicious.” Sebastian glanced at it. “I don’t eat fish. I’m allergic to seafood.” Mom froze, embarrassed. She silently moved the salmon to Tyler’s bowl. “Ty, you’ve been studying hard. You eat it.” Tyler grinned. “Thanks, Mom. I love salmon. Can we have it tomorrow too?” Then, he pivoted, smiling maliciously at me. “By the way, Mom, Chloe was just telling me how much she wanted a massive seafood feast tomorrow. Right, Chloe?” The comments exploded: [This guy is such a snake. He knows Sebastian is allergic and he’s doing this on purpose.] [I can’t wait until they’re broke on the streets.] [Especially the sister. Pretty, homeless, and alone… her ending in the book is brutal. She gets targeted by…] I stopped reading. The food in my mouth turned to ash. My survival instinct roared. I put down my chopsticks, wiped my mouth, and grabbed Mom’s arm, shaking it like a toddler. “But Mom! I don’t want seafood anymore! I really want sweet and sour pork ribs, spicy tofu, and truffle chicken soup!” I batted my eyelashes. “Mommy, please? Can we have those instead?” Mom ate it up. She tapped my nose affectionately. “Okay, okay. Whatever our little glutton wants.” Tyler’s face went dark. He hadn’t expected me to go off-script and save Sebastian. I pretended not to notice and shoveled rice into my mouth. Honestly? I felt guilty. My muscle memory wanted to agree with Tyler. I was wired to please him. But I was more afraid of sleeping under a bridge. After dinner, Mom showed Sebastian to his room. It was right next to mine. I thought I could finally sleep, but the damn text floated up again: [Unbelievable. Tyler poured water on Sebastian’s bed. What a jerk.] [It’s freezing at night right now. He’s trying to make him sick.] [It’s fine. Just imagine them shivering in a cardboard box later. Karma is coming.] 3 The comments felt vindicated. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack. I jumped out of bed without putting on slippers, grabbed a brand-new duvet from the linen closet, and sprinted to Sebastian’s room. I knocked lightly. Sebastian opened the door. Moonlight spilled across his face, highlighting his sharp jawline. He was shockingly handsome. I paused for a second, dazzled. Then I shoved the duvet at him. “Brother! I heard your bedding got… uh, wet. This is brand new. Use this.” He stared at me. His dark eyes searched my face for a long time before he spoke, his voice raspy. “Why are you being so nice to me?” Because I don’t want to be homeless, bro! But I smiled like an angel. “Because you’re my brother. We’re family.” He flinched like the word “family” physically burned him. “Family?” I nodded vigorously. “Yup! I’m very useful. I’ll take care of you and protect you!” Suddenly, he smiled. It looked like snow melting in spring. “I’m the older brother. I should be the one taking care of you. Protecting you.” My heart did a weird little flip. With Tyler, I was always the one cleaning up messes and taking the blame. I rubbed my nose. “So, what do you like to eat? I’ll tell the chef for tomorrow.” His lips curved up. “No need. The dishes you asked for today… those are my favorites.” I grinned. “I knew it! Who doesn’t love sweet and sour ribs?” Sebastian chuckled. It was the first time I’d heard him laugh. I stared again. When he smiled… he was lethal. 4 The next morning, Tyler didn’t wait for me to walk to school. I knew he was mad. I felt a little wronged. I’d been his servant for years, and one moment of disobedience was enough to cut me off? My phone buzzed. It was Jessica, the school’s queen bee. [Chloe, get me the spicy noodles from the cafeteria for breakfast. But like, from the good stall on the other side of campus. Thanks!] Ever since Tyler started making me run errands for her, she had gotten comfortable treating me like her personal DoorDash. I wanted to text back: Get it yourself. I deleted it. [Okay.] I didn’t like Jessica. On the first day of high school, during introductions, I spoke one sentence. She burst out laughing. “Oh my god, is that your real voice? It’s so high-pitched and fake. We’re in high school, you don’t need to act like an anime character.” The whole class laughed. My face burned. I’m naturally soft-spoken; I wasn’t faking anything. Tyler had kicked her chair. “Knock it off.” Jessica rolled her eyes. “Protective much? It’s just a joke. She’s too sensitive.” Tyler had patted my head. “Don’t worry about it, Chloe.” I felt safe then. But… But, Tyler, why did you fall in love with her? 5 Despite his threats to send me back to the orphanage, Tyler used to be good to me. I have hypoglycemia—low blood sugar. I get dizzy if I don’t eat. Tyler used to keep tangerine candies in his pocket. Whenever I forgot mine, he’d peel one and pop it in my mouth. “Idiot,” he’d say, smiling. “So much trouble.” Recently, I hadn’t forgotten my candy. I just pretended to, because I liked being cared for. But then Jessica started chirping in his ear. “Tyler, are you obsessed with your sister? It’s weird. You’re going to turn her into a brat.” Tyler called her annoying, but his ears turned red. He stopped bringing me candy. Now, his pockets were full of hair ties because Jessica always lost hers. His patience transferred to her. He tutored her, bought her gifts for every holiday, and made me deliver his love letters. He made me bring her breakfast. He seemed to forget that I hated her. To keep Tyler happy, I had to suck up to Jessica. I had to pretend I didn’t mind. But the tangerine candy sweetness was gone. Now, all I tasted was bitter.

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When Julian Thorne’s ex-fiancée showed up, I finally learned he came from old money. To chase me—a broke college student from the boonies—he had cut ties with his family and broken off his engagement with his childhood sweetheart, Clara Vance. Julian was panicking, but Clara was calm and collected. “Relax,” she said smoothly. “I just wanted to see what kind of woman was worth giving up the Thorne empire for.” Suddenly, floating text appeared in the air above us: [Lol, the scumbag is acting tough now. Wait until he gets tired of being poor with the mistress. He’ll be begging for forgiveness!] [Clara is such a queen! Go study abroad, girl, and come back to slap him in the face with your success!] [Fast forward seven years! I want to see the scumbag dump the mistress and kneel before our Clara!] Reading this, Clara’s smile deepened. “I wish you happiness.” Seven years later, we ran into her on the street. Julian and I were squatting on the curb, eating kebabs. Clara, draped in Prada and clutching an Hermès bag, looked at us with pity. “Julian Thorne, is this really the life you wanted?” 1 “Yeah,” Julian answered without hesitation, though he looked confused by the question. The pity on Clara’s face froze. The cheering floating text in the air froze too. [Wait, did I hear that right? The scumbag went from billionaire heir to this, and he’s still acting tough?] [LMAO, seeing how successful and glowing Clara is, he’s definitely regretting it inside. He’s just saving face because the mistress is right there.] [Going from Michelin stars to street food… how could he not regret it?] [Tsk tsk, remember how arrogant he was when he broke off the engagement? Only seven years later, and look at him—] [Wait… why is the scumbag still so hot? And the mistress… damn, why did she get so pretty?] I almost laughed reading that last comment, but the spicy chili powder hit the back of my throat, and I started coughing violently. “Slow down, no one’s fighting you for it,” Julian said, immediately unscrewing a bottle of water for me. He took the spicy skewer from my hand and angled the portable fan directly at my face. This smooth sequence of actions shocked not only the floating comments but also Clara, who looked like she had something stuck in her throat. [Something’s wrong. It’s been seven years. The billionaire heir has been eating bitterness with the poor girl for seven years. He should be sick of her by now.] [According to the original plot, the second male lead should feel humiliated right now. He should be trying to talk to Clara, get blocked by the villainess, have a huge fight with her, and then realize how ugly the villainess is compared to Clara!] [I get it! They’re acting! He’s deliberately showing off to prove his choice wasn’t a mistake!] [Exactly. Seven years later, they’re eating street food while Clara is thriving. Men and their egos. He’s just holding on for dear life!] Clara’s frown relaxed as she read the comments. Her confidence returned. Seeing me hacking up a lung, she opened her bag, pulled out a pack of tissues, and handed them over like she was bestowing a royal favor. “Here.” “Thanks.” Julian took them naturally, opened the pack, and wiped the sweat from my forehead, looking worried. “Better? Still hurt?” [He won’t even look at Clara. Afraid he’ll break character if he does?] [Male Lead #2, we see you. King of Pretending.] Empowered by the comments, Clara’s face lit up again. She looked me and Julian up and down, then glanced at the busy kebab stand behind us. Her face, undeniably beautiful, wore a perfect, polite smile, but her eyes were dripping with contempt. “I remember you used to refuse to eat street food. Said it was dirty.” “I didn’t expect you to change so much in just seven years.” Clara looked at Julian, issuing an invitation. “It’s been seven years. Want to go to our old spot and catch up?” Then she looked at me as if she’d just remembered I existed. “If Ms. Miller doesn’t mind, she can come too.” [Clara is so gentle and kind, even to the scumbag ex and the mistress.] [She just wants to watch the drama unfold. Love this petty queen energy!] I couldn’t take it anymore. When Julian pursued me, he had already broken off his engagement with Clara. Before that, I was busy with school and part-time jobs; I barely knew who he was. If you say Julian wronged Clara by breaking the engagement, I accept that. But the label of “mistress”? I wasn’t taking that. Julian stood up, half a step ahead of me, and spoke bluntly. “It’s been years. When did you lose your sense of boundaries?” “Do I need to remind you of our relationship?” “Asking me out in front of my wife, and saying she can come ‘if she doesn’t mind’?” “Clara Vance, this isn’t like you.” Clara froze. She couldn’t believe her ears. “What did you say?” The floating text went silent for a second, then exploded: [WTF? What did the scumbag say? How dare he talk to Clara like that?] [Heh, acting tough now. Wait until later.] [Keep acting. The more you pretend now, the harder you’ll cry when you’re kneeling for forgiveness later.] Despite the comments’ support, facing Julian’s cold rejection, Clara turned bright red. “My mother just asked me to check on you. Don’t overthink it.” “Since you’re not willing, I won’t stay. Goodbye.” Clara had arrived draped in jewels and confidence, looking down on us from high above. She left flustered, angry, and in a hurry. “Weirdo,” Julian muttered, frowning. He turned back and saw my dark expression, instantly panicking. “Wife!” “I didn’t know she was back! I didn’t know my mom sent her! I haven’t contacted her in seven years! I don’t know why she’s acting like we had some great romance. Even though we were engaged since we were kids, I never liked her…” “Okay,” I interrupted him. “I believe you.” Julian let out a breath, looking at me with puppy-dog eyes. “Your face looked so scary just now. You scared me.” I glanced at him. “Want me to make it up to you?” Julian nodded excitedly. “Yes, yes!” I turned back to the kebab stand. “Boss, ten more lamb skewers!” Julian immediately added, “And a stir-fried noodle! Extra vinegar, extra spicy!” While waiting for the food, I thought about Clara, feeling unsettled. “Julian, do you regret being with me?” I looked at him seriously, sitting on his little plastic stool. “You used to eat Michelin-star meals. Now you’re eating street food with me. Do you feel wronged?” He looked horrified. “Wife, don’t scare me!” “Aren’t we back in River City to discuss a business deal and relive some memories?” “Why are you talking like we’re broke and can only afford street food?” 2 I paused. Right. We aren’t poor anymore. The old Julian could afford Michelin stars. The current Julian, with money earned by his own hands, can still afford them. The old Maya Miller was a poor student from the mountains. The current Maya Miller is a self-made millionaire, a well-known young entrepreneur in Shanghai. It’s all because of Clara and those weird floating comments! Who says poor people have to stay poor forever? I fought my way out of poverty to a top university in the capital, winning scholarships every year. Doesn’t that prove my capability? “Wife, maybe we should go back to Shanghai?” Julian looked at me with worry. “I feel uneasy here. Clara is acting weird, and my parents…” At the mention of his parents, Julian’s eyes went cold. When he looked back at me, they softened again. “They still haven’t given up. I don’t want them ruining our mood.” “Honey, I know. But this deal is important for the company.” I touched his face, soothing him. “Once we finish business, we’ll go straight back, okay?” Julian sighed and pulled me into a hug, surrounding me with his fresh citrus scent. “Don’t let anyone or anything affect how much you love me, Maya. Trust me.” I trust him. I trust Julian won’t be like the comments say, abandoning me for Clara after seven years. I trust I won’t end up like the “original ending”—abandoned by “Julian,” chasing a sugar daddy, and getting tortured to death by the wife. I trust we aren’t side characters meant to be slapped down in Clara’s “Big Female Lead” life. I trust we are the protagonists of our own lives. I found out I was a supporting character in a novel seven years ago, when Clara asked to meet me. Seven years ago, Clara was even more composed than she is now. Perhaps she was certain Julian would regret choosing me. Her gaze was mocking and disdainful, her tone incredibly frivolous. “So you’re Julian’s little girlfriend?” I didn’t know about Julian’s background then. Hearing this provocative question, alarm bells rang in my head. “Who are you?” Clara was surprised. “You don’t know who I am?” [Stop pretending. You stole her fiancé, and you don’t know who she is?] [This white lotus isn’t very good at acting.] [Look at her clothes. So cheap. Dark and skinny. Not even one-tenth of our Clara. The second male lead must be blind.] [He’s the second lead for a reason. Whatever, he’s just having fun. Give it a few years of poverty, he’ll regret it.] That’s when the comments appeared. I was shaken but tried to hide it. I quickly realized Clara could see them too, and she believed every word. The comments said Clara was the Heroine, and my boyfriend Julian was the Second Male Lead. They were childhood sweethearts engaged to be married. But Julian fell in love with me in his sophomore year. Me—a mountain girl with nothing but four bare walls, relying on financial aid to attend college. To be with me, Julian broke ties with his parents and canceled his engagement to Clara. He gave up his identity as a billionaire heir and moved into a cramped apartment with me. They thought love could conquer all, but a few years later, he grew tired of poverty and tired of me. Just then, Clara returned from abroad in glory. Compared to her brilliance, I was short-sighted, timid, greedy, and stupid. Julian regretted his choice. He broke up with me to pursue Clara again. But I wouldn’t let go, and Clara wouldn’t accept him back. I pestered Julian, making a fool of myself. In the end, driven by greed, I became a mistress to a wealthy man, was set up by his wife, fell into a beggar’s den, and died a horrific death. Julian returned to the Thorne family, living off a meager allowance. As for the Heroine, Clara, she naturally ended up with the even richer and more powerful Male Lead. Julian became nothing more than a regretful footnote in her life. How absurd. I had just graduated. I had $12,000 in savings from four years of hard work, and several high-paying offers from big tech companies in my inbox. I was looking forward to a bright future. Yet the comments told me I would never escape the mud of poverty. That I would die a miserable death because of greed. I didn’t want to believe it, but I was scared. The day I met Clara, I broke up with Julian. The six-foot-tall boy squatted on the ground, crying his eyes out, asking why. “I admit, I was wrong not to tell you who I was. But I really didn’t make you a mistress.” “I broke off the engagement so I could chase you properly. Maya, I really like you.” I squatted down and told him seriously, “I like you too, Julian.” “But the fact is, your parents won’t agree to you being with a woman from a completely different class.” “We won’t have a future.” “And I’m really afraid of trouble. You don’t want your love to become an obstacle for me, do you?” Looking at Julian’s red eyes, I thought, I am so cruel. But I was terrified of being poor. I fought my way out of the mountains to set roots in this big city, to carve out a piece of the sky for myself. I didn’t want, and wouldn’t allow, my hard-fought life to become a backdrop for someone else. I suffered so much; the rest of my days should be sweet. Julian didn’t pester me. Choking back sobs, he said okay, packed his bags, and moved out of my rental. Then, I accepted the offer farthest away from here, in Shanghai, without looking back. Julian’s family company was a giant in River City. As long as I stayed here, there was risk. Only by going far away, to a place they couldn’t reach, could I truly be safe. And I was right. But what I didn’t expect was that Julian followed me to Shanghai. “I know your worries. So I will prove to you that my love won’t bring you trouble.” That was twenty-three-year-old Julian, incredibly solemn, yet unable to hide his nervousness and hope. “If you want, it can be the seasoning of your life, or… your support.” “Actually, what I wanted to say back then was, if you want, you can even treat me like a dog.” Thirty-year-old Julian buried his face in my chest, eyes watery and full of love. “Just don’t leave me.” “I won’t leave you.” I kissed his beautiful eyes, my hand familiarly tracing his abs. “You’re so good, how could I bear to leave you?” Julian isn’t the naive rich boy from the “original plot” who doesn’t understand the real world. And I am not the Maya who sells her body for wealth. So I will never meet that ending. 3 [See? What did I say? The second male lead is acting so well in front of the mistress, but he’s still obsessed with Clara!] [Hehe, the face-slapping scene is coming!] [Why is this mistress haunting us? Hasn’t she realized the guy is sick of her?] [So what if she realized? She can’t leave him. She’s still dreaming of marrying into wealth!] [Hey, are the second male lead’s parents here?] [They’re here! Over there!] When Clara appeared in front of me and Julian, crowned by floating text, I wasn’t surprised. She, however, seemed shocked to see Julian at the banquet. “You don’t have an invitation. How did you get in?” [He snuck in, obviously! Coming to beg you to take him back. Clara, baby, reject him swiftly! Slap that scumbag in the face!] “Who said we didn’t—” Julian started to explain, but Clara sighed and interrupted him. “Julian, what happened between us was years ago. Can you stop harassing me?” “I don’t want to make a scene.” Julian froze. “Huh?” I rubbed my temples. From the moment I saw Clara again in River City, I knew this trip wouldn’t be peaceful. But I didn’t expect this. Even though Julian and I were dressed impeccably, showing no signs of poverty, Clara still chose to believe the floating text, convinced he snuck in to beg for forgiveness. “Hey, isn’t that Julian Thorne? How did he get so run-down?” “Watch your mouth. Are you looking down on our ‘True Love’ Prince?” A few smirking rich kids approached, winking at Julian. “Regretting it? Want to eat crow?” “Too late. Our Clara won’t look twice at a man who eats street food.” These people were all from Julian’s old circle. But since Julian broke the engagement and left the family, they had joined Clara’s camp. Their malice was palpable. [Look at their faces! So ugly!] [Hahaha! Satisfying! Does the scumbag know he was wrong now? Thought love could pay the bills?] [Without the Thorne family name, who does he think he is? Not fit to carry Clara’s shoes!] “Julian? What are you doing here?” Julian’s parents appeared from the crowd, their faces dark. Their critical eyes stabbed me like needles. “Why are you still hanging around this woman?” The rich kids started chattering, saying Julian snuck in to beg Clara. Clara lifted her chin arrogantly. Julian’s parents’ expressions softened slightly. “At least you’re not completely stupid!” “Hurry up and apologize to Clara. Ask her to give you another chance!” Clara smiled faintly. “Uncle, Auntie, don’t be like that.” She glanced at Julian. “It’s impossible for me and Julian now. I wish him and Ms. Miller a long and happy life together.” Mrs. Thorne glared at me with hatred. “What happy life? With a woman like this who can’t be shown in public…” “Mom!” Julian couldn’t take it anymore. “Can you give me some respect in public?” “Maya is my girlfriend. We are very happy! She is not ‘unpresentable’!” “And thank you for your blessing, Miss Vance. I will definitely live a long, happy life with Maya.” Julian held my hand and looked coldly at Clara. “But you… I sincerely suggest you see a psychiatrist.” Clara’s expression went blank for a second. “What?” “Which eye saw me harassing you?” “This is the second time you’ve rushed up to me saying these weird things. Our engagement is ancient history. I’m incredibly happy with my girlfriend. Can you please rein in your narcissism?” […Wait, the second male lead doesn’t seem like he’s acting.] [If he is, those words are brutal.] [Does he still love the mistress? But they’re almost thirty. Poverty should have crushed their spirits by now.] [How dare he talk to Clara like that! AHHHHH!] [He played the role so hard he played himself? If he’s not here to beg Clara, why did two poor people who eat street food try so hard to get into this banquet?] [It has to be for Clara and his parents!] [Hold on, guys upstairs. Why assume they are poor? Is eating street food a crime?] [Look closely at them. Their faces, their energy… they don’t look defeated like in the original plot.] [Yeah, and those clothes… they look like bespoke couture, not rentals.] [? Are you guys crazy? Since when do scumbags and mistresses have fans?] [Clara, don’t believe them. He’s regretting it deep down! He’s just trying to look like he has a backbone so you’ll soften up.] [That must be it!] [Wow, the audacity. Breaking the engagement embarrassed Clara so much!] Even the comments were sensing something was off. But Clara, whether from overconfidence or inability to accept that Julian didn’t regret leaving her, refused to believe him. Her embarrassment turned to ice. “Julian, do you think saying this makes you look principled?” “If you weren’t harassing me, how did you know I’d be at this banquet? How did you appear in front of me so perfectly?” “If your relationship is so great, you shouldn’t have brought her here to see me.” Clara looked at him with pity. “We haven’t been in the same world for a long time. Give up.” 4 “Give up, Julian!” “Take your little wife back to the slums. Clara moved on ages ago. Don’t drag her back into the mud.” “Hey, Julian, how did you guys sneak in without invites?” “If you don’t leave, I’m calling security.” Facing the ridicule, Mr. and Mrs. Thorne’s faces were black as coal. “Embarrassing! Why did you come back?” “You don’t have half the sense your brother has! If it were him…” Veins popped on Julian’s forehead. He silently pulled me to leave. I held his hand, looped my arm through his, and patted him gently. “Miss Vance, I’m really curious. Why are you so sure Julian is here to beg you?” “The security here is strict. How could two living people sneak in so easily?” “Is it impossible that we received invitations and entered legitimately?” I asked earnestly. Clara’s mocking smile deepened. “Ms. Miller, even if you’re vain, you shouldn’t lie in front of so many people.” She looked at Julian. “Julian, take your girlfriend and leave. If security comes, it’ll get ugly.” Julian’s parents chimed in. “Leave! How long are you going to shame us?” “It doesn’t matter if you shame yourself, don’t drag the Thorne name down!” “Go! This isn’t a place for you!” The crowd behind Clara jeered. “Don’t infect us with your poverty.” “Still not leaving? Want us to call security?” “Call them.” I spoke calmly. “Call security right now.” Since Clara is still immersed in her “Big Female Lead slaps scum” fantasy… Let reality wake her up. Clara frowned, as if disgusted by my audacity. The rich kids behind her quieted for a second, then burst into exaggerated laughter. “Wow, Julian, your girlfriend has personality!” “Is she trying to be the stubborn heroine from a romance novel to get our attention…” “What’s going on here?” Arriving before security was the host of the banquet, and our business partner, CEO An. A woman in her forties, well-maintained, sharp, with a concerned smile. Clara glanced at us, then spoke to the woman with practiced elegance. “CEO An, I’m so sorry. If not for me, these two wouldn’t have snuck in to cause trouble…” CEO An looked at her strangely. “Miss, what are you talking about?” “President Miller and President Thorne are my invited guests. They are my partners for the upcoming project.” Clara’s expression froze solid. Julian’s parents looked at us in disbelief. The rich kids laughing at Julian looked like choked ducks. Silence. “Sorry you had to see that, CEO An.” I sighed lightly and briefly explained the history between me, Julian, and Clara, as well as Julian’s relationship with his parents. “So I sincerely suggest Miss Vance visit a psychiatric department. Having an imagination isn’t a sickness, but confusing fantasy with reality isn’t great.” Clara’s face turned purple. She glared at the floating text in the air, hiked up her dress, and ran. The rich kids scattered awkwardly. “Julian, you child, so you’ve achieved so much in Shanghai! Oh my, why didn’t you tell me and your father?” Mrs. Thorne’s face was a complex mix of joy, regret, blame, and resentment. Mr. Thorne had thicker skin, acting as if he hadn’t just insulted Julian. “You… have done well.” Julian ignored them, looking at me pleadingly. I smiled apologetically at CEO An. She understood immediately and laughed. “Regarding our cooperation, I have some details to discuss with you two.” She looked at Julian’s parents. “Excuse us, Mr. and Mrs. Thorne.” After the banquet, Julian’s parents blocked us at the door. Mr. Thorne was blunt. “How much money is in your company accounts?” “Take it out to help the Thorne Group. Once we weather this storm, you can come back and help your brother.” Mrs. Thorne added, “Thank your father! He’s still willing to give you a chance…” “I am not a Thorne anymore.” Julian cut her off. “Mom, Dad, didn’t you kick me out seven years ago?” “Child, what nonsense is that?” Mrs. Thorne was anxious. “It’s been seven years. Are you still holding a grudge against your parents?” “Not a grudge. A fact. Didn’t you just say I was embarrassing and not half as sensible as my brother?” Julian smiled mockingly. “Now that you see I’m not as destitute as you imagined, that I have my own career, you’re pretending to be loving parents?” Mr. Thorne felt anger, not shame. “You really won’t help us?” “When you turn sixty, I will fulfill my legal obligation to support you financially. Monthly payments. Other than that, I hope you continue as you have for the last seven years: pretend you don’t have a son.” Julian took my hand and walked away. Mr. Thorne screamed behind us, “You think having a little business makes you special?” “Compared to the Thorne Group, it’s nothing! You’re too young and arrogant. You’ll go bankrupt sooner or later!”

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1 The moment my husband’s old flame found out I was pregnant, she set a fire, intending to burn me alive. I didn’t scream for help. Instead, I hoisted my mother-in-law, who had passed out from the smoke, onto my back and fought to survive. In my last life, I had screamed and cried in the inferno. My husband, Ethan, had rushed in and saved his mother and me first. But his old flame, Phoebe, desperate to one-up me, had charged back into the flames and burned to death. After she died, Ethan said she deserved it for starting the fire. He was endlessly gentle with me, soothing my frayed nerves. But the day our daughter was born, he took a framed photo of Phoebe from the mantelpiece and bludgeoned our newborn to death with it. “It’s all your fault!” he had roared, his face a mask of grief and madness. “You and this baby took her from me! Go to hell and atone for what you’ve done!” In my despair, I took him with me. And when I opened my eyes again, I was back in the fire. … “Debra, hang in there! I’ll get you out!” The familiar voice sent a chill down my spine. I had just opened my eyes when the warped, burning husk of the bedroom door crashed down, missing my face by inches. Terrified, I scrambled backward, pulling Ethan’s mother with me. “Mom, don’t open the window! It’ll fuel the fire!” I scanned the room, ripped a pillowcase from the bed, and soaked it with the last of a water bottle. I handed it to her, gesturing for her to cover her mouth and nose. Just then, the wail of sirens echoed from below. A flicker of hope crossed her face. “Don’t worry, Debra. Ethan’s here. He’ll save us.” She smiled, her eyes bright with relief. “We’re going to be okay.” I looked down, unable to meet her gaze. How could I tell this kind woman that her own son would one day murder her granddaughter for another woman? The heat in the room was becoming unbearable, the floor tiles searing hot beneath my feet. I had just helped his mother to a safer corner when Ethan’s voice boomed from outside. “Phoebe! Phoebe, are you in there?” he yelled, his voice tight with panic. “Don’t be scared, I’m coming to save you!” With a tremendous crash, the front door was forced open. I couldn’t see anything through the wall of red and orange flames, but I could hear Phoebe’s terrified sobs. “Ethan! I’m on the balcony! Help me, I’m so scared…” “Everyone with me!” Ethan commanded. “Forget searching anywhere else, she’s on the balcony! Move!” Hearing this, his mother clutched her chest, gasping for air. “That monster… my son, that monster… how could he…” Before she could finish, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she collapsed. Through the shimmering heat, I saw Ethan’s silhouette carrying Phoebe in his arms, turning his back on the flames, on us. The fire licked at everything around me, and as a single tear escaped my eye, it evaporated instantly on my cheek. This time, I swallowed the scream for help that rose in my throat. This time, Ethan, my debt is paid. As Ethan and his precious Phoebe disappeared, I secured the damp cloth over my own face and, after a few clumsy attempts, managed to haul his mother onto my back. The effort sent a sharp, stabbing pain through my abdomen. It took every ounce of my strength just to stand. I was carrying Ethan’s child in my womb and his mother on my back. And as I stood there, trapped in the inferno, I could hear their voices drifting from outside. “Phoebe, is anyone else in the house?” “No one, Ethan. Debra… she said she was pregnant and couldn’t be stressed. We argued, and… and she locked me in and set the fire, then she ran away…” “That goddamn bitch,” Ethan snarled. “When I find her, I’ll make her pay for this!” My legs buckled, and I nearly fell. A moment later, another voice cut in. “Chief, I think I heard someone talking in the bedroom.” It was Mike, one of his colleagues. “I have a bad feeling someone’s still in there. What if Debra…?” “Phoebe already told us what happened!” Ethan snapped. “Debra’s the one who started this! You think she’d stick around to die in her own trap? Everyone out! Phoebe’s weak, we need to get her to a hospital now!” The pain in my belly was so intense I nearly bit through my own teeth, a primal urge to escape screaming through me. But just as I took a step, my mother-in-law, revived by the choking smoke, stirred on my back. Her hands gripped my shoulders, holding me back as she started to scream. “Ethan, you little bastard! Your wife and your child are trapped in there! Who the hell are you taking to the hospital?” I froze, listening intently. But the footsteps were already fading. Ethan was gone. With a groan of tortured metal and wood, a flaming wardrobe crashed down, blocking our only way out. My hands trembled as I poured the last few drops of water onto a small towel and passed it to his mother. Tears streamed down her wrinkled face. She opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of sirens returned, just as loud as before. And then they faded into the distance. Ethan was gone, taking Phoebe with him. The fire raged, growing hotter, wilder. A cold despair settled in my heart. We weren’t going to make it out. His mother coughed a few more times, then fell silent on my back. The flames were starting to catch the hem of my clothes. Just as I was about to be consumed, a voice shouted from the doorway. “Ma’am! The security guards said they never saw you leave! Are you still in there?” Tears I didn’t know I had left streamed down my face as I choked out a reply. A moment later, a figure burst through the smoke, a fire extinguisher in his hands. My strength finally gave out, and I collapsed. When I opened my eyes again, I was on a stretcher outside our building. His mother was beside me. The man who had saved us was Mike, Ethan’s colleague. His face was black with soot, but when he saw my eyes open, he broke into a grin. “Ma’am, I knew I heard you in there. That Phoebe girl kept insisting the house was empty…” He didn’t finish. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. A wave of panic went through the crowd of onlookers as they scrambled to call for more ambulances. None of us were seriously injured, but Ethan’s mother had pre-existing conditions, and Mike had inhaled too much smoke. They were both still unconscious. When Ethan got the news, he rushed to the hospital. The moment he saw me, he shoved past a nurse and slapped me hard across the face. “You bitch! How could you be so cruel? Why did you try to kill Phoebe?” he roared. “You weren’t even home! Why did you go back into the fire? You almost got Mike killed too, you know that!” His voice was a torrent of fury. “I can’t believe I married a monster like you. If any of them die, you’re a murderer!” I had just survived a fire, my mind still reeling from the terror, and he had sent me sprawling to the floor. From behind him, Phoebe peeked out, her face a mask of false concern. “Debra, I know you hate me, but did you ever think about how many people you could have hurt?” She swayed, leaning weakly against Ethan’s shoulder, and began to cough violently. A fleck of blood appeared on her lips. Seeing it, Ethan spun around and, as I struggled to my feet, kicked me squarely in the stomach. I crumpled. “You venomous bitch! Why didn’t you burn to death in there!” he screamed, his eyes burning with a hatred I had never seen before. “I should have dragged Mike out of there and left you to die!” He stood over me, his face twisted in contempt. Phoebe, nestled safely in his arms, shot me a look of pure triumph. I had no strength left to argue. A warm, sticky wetness was spreading beneath me. The pain was blinding, and tears streamed from my eyes. My smoke-ravaged throat could only manage a few hoarse syllables. “Doctor… call a doctor…” Ethan saw my agony and a cruel, twisted smile spread across his face. “A doctor?” he sneered. “Did you think about whether they’d get a doctor if you’d killed them?” I stared up at him, a hollow ache spreading through my chest. Before Phoebe had reappeared in our lives, he had been so excited about this baby. He had already decorated the nursery. He had already chosen a name. Julian. He had said he would give the child his last name, and a middle name inspired by mine. A part of both of us, he’d called it, the greatest gift. But now, as he saw the blood pooling on the floor beneath me, he turned and covered Phoebe’s eyes. “Disgusting. Don’t look, baby. It might scare you.” The next time I woke up, I was in a different room. The nurse saw I was awake and slammed a vial of medicine into the trash bin with a clatter. “Well, look at you,” she said, her voice dripping with disgust. “Tough one, aren’t you? Ruined so many lives and all you lost was a baby. Lucky you.” My throat felt like it was on fire. I couldn’t make a sound, forced to endure her scorn in silence. Seeing me helpless, she threw the door open and called out to the hallway. “The suspect is awake! Get her out of here before she contaminates the whole hospital.” Her voice rose with righteous indignation. “She tried to kill the daughter of a fallen hero. How could someone so unlucky still be alive? Should have let her burn.” Two officers came in and hauled me to my feet without a word. Soon, I was face to face with Ethan. We sat across a cold, metal table. His face was dark, and he spoke as if my sentence had already been passed. “Debra. You are a venomous, cold-blooded snake. For attempted murder, you’re going to prison.” He paused, his jaw tight. “Given the… circumstances… I can request a suspended sentence. But you will do time for this.” He turned his head away, as if looking at me for a second longer would stain his own integrity. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but all that came out was a series of wracking coughs. Just then, Phoebe burst into the room, sobbing, and threw herself into Ethan’s arms. “Ethan, I had another nightmare,” she wailed. “I dreamt I was burning to death… I’m so scared…” The slight softening in Ethan’s expression vanished, replaced by cold fury. “Debra, I don’t know what a sweet girl like Phoebe could have possibly done to you,” he seethed. “Why do you hate her so much? Why do you have to keep hurting her?” “Her father died on a rescue call! She’s the daughter of a hero, and you… you…!” He couldn’t finish, his hands balling into fists as he slammed them on the table. Someone handed me a cup of warm water. I gulped it down, and finally found my voice, raw and raspy. “The arsonist wasn’t me. It was Phoebe.” My voice was quiet, but it filled the small room. “The person who should be in jail isn’t me. It’s her. And you, for dereliction of duty.” Ethan slammed the table again, leaping to his feet. He leaned over me, his eyes boring into mine. “Phoebe is pure and kind! How dare you slander her like this! She told me everything that happened. It was you! You started that fire over a stupid argument!” As if on cue, Phoebe began to sob harder. “Ethan, she’s trying to frame me again. I’m so scared. I just wanted to be like a little sister to you… is that so wrong? Debra, do you really have to kill me to be happy?” She lunged towards me, grabbing my arm and shaking it violently. I recoiled in disgust, pulling my arm away. Phoebe immediately shrieked and threw herself backward. “Ethan, save me! She pushed me!” Ethan caught her, sweeping her into his arms. With his other hand, he grabbed me and threw me to the floor. “Debra! You dare assault her right in front of me? Do you have any conscience at all?” he roared. “If it weren’t for the law protecting pregnant women, I’d throw you in a cell right now and let you rot!” I looked up at his enraged face. His features were so familiar, so much like the man who had once promised me the world. But now, I held no illusions. Last life, Phoebe killed herself, and he blamed me. This life, Phoebe was alive and well, and he still blamed me. What was the point of a marriage like this? I opened my mouth, my voice devoid of all emotion. “Ethan, let’s get a divorce. If you want to prosecute me, go ahead.” I met his furious gaze. “The baby’s gone now. Let’s see if you can put me behind bars.” Ethan’s brow furrowed, his voice sharp with confusion and accusation. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, the baby’s gone?”

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