Category: English

At dinner, my husband suddenly asked me, “What would you do if I met someone better than you?” I was quiet for a moment. “Then you should be with her,” I said. “We’ll get a divorce.” He didn’t know that I had already seen him. Seen him frantically trying to soothe that girl’s red-rimmed eyes, telling her, “Don’t cry. I’ll give you a future.” 1 He put down his fork. His face went pale, then twisted into a difficult smile. “Grace, I was just kidding.” He wasn’t. I knew he wasn’t. I had known his love. Which is how I knew, with certainty, that his heart had moved. Earlier today, at the hospital. The oncologist, who had been brisk and impatient, looked at my chart. His demeanor softened instantly. He lowered his voice. “Don’t be afraid. It’s not late-stage. If you follow the treatment plan, this is manageable. This is beatable.” I was walking out with the diagnostic report in my hand when I saw them. Noah’s arm was bandaged. The girl was looking at it, her eyes filling with tears. “Why did I meet you so late?” she whispered. “I don’t even have the right to take care of you.” Noah looked flustered. He tried to comfort her, and the fresh bandage on his arm bloomed red. “Don’t cry,” he said. “I’ll give you a future.” The words hung in the air. He froze, as if shocked at what he’d just said. Or maybe just annoyed at his own slip of the tongue. But the girl believed him. Her nose was red. She looked up at him. “Really?” Noah just frowned and said nothing. I didn’t stay to watch the rest. I knew Noah’s boundaries. As long as he was married to me, his body wouldn’t cross the line. But his heart… His heart I couldn’t control. 2 I wanted to know what kind of girl she was. The kind of girl who was, in his eyes, “better” than me. I found her profile in his phone. I had to see her for myself. What kind of girl could so easily shatter eight years of my life? We survived long-distance. We survived the pandemic. We survived being broke. But we couldn’t survive a “better girl.” I found her on her college campus. She was, as expected, bright and full of life. I watched as an elderly woman, a campus custodian, struggled with a recycling bin. The plastic bag tore, and dozens of empty cans clattered across the pavement. The girl, in a cream-colored coat, ran over and helped the woman pick up every single one. She then helped her carry the new bag all the way to the campus recycling center. I followed them, like a stalker. Suddenly, I heard footsteps behind me. A figure blurred past, blocking my view. I looked up. It was Noah. He was standing between me and the girl, his arms spread slightly, his lips trembling. “Grace, it’s not her fault…” Not her fault. Then whose fault was it? Mine? The girl finally noticed me. She turned, her eyes wide. When our gazes met, she looked away, terrified. 3 In the coffee shop. Noah sat across from me, his eyes filled with a familiar pain. “Grace,” he started. “I…” He couldn’t finish. I was morbidly curious. Now that his wife had found out, what would he do? Would he break it off with the “better” girl? Or would he end it with me? He opened his mouth, and the words came out, rough and strained. “Grace… I… I don’t think I love you anymore.” I said nothing. My body, however, betrayed me. My eyes burned. “Don’t cry…” he pleaded, helpless. He just stared at me for a long time before pushing the napkin dispenser across the table. He let out a long, heavy sigh. “Grace, we’ve been together since we were eighteen. That’s eight years… “I know I’m an asshole. I’m scum. “But Grace… after so long… my love for you, it’s turned into… family. Into affection. It’s just… it’s not love. Not anymore. We can’t fight that.” I found my voice. “And her?” Noah was silent. “Maybe it will fade with her, too,” he said. “But right now… I can’t lie to you.” He looked up, his voice bitter. “I haven’t done anything. I haven’t cheated. If you want… we can stay together. We can make it work.” “But… all I can give you is my responsibility. And my time. The love is gone.” How do you describe that feeling? Sadness? Despair? It was like being a prisoner, watching the water rise in your cell. You know you’re going to drown. You just have to watch it happen. We sat in silence. Finally, I spoke. “Let’s schedule a time. For the divorce.” 4 It was evening when I left the cafe. The sunset was a violent, bloody orange. Across the street, someone was hiding behind a bus stop. Noah saw her immediately. He ran across the street, dodging traffic. The girl jumped, her face pale with fright. “Summer,” he said, his voice sharp. “What are you doing here? I told you to go back to your dorm. You’ve been here this whole time?” The girl, Summer, glanced at me, her eyes full of apology. She looked down at her shoes. “I… I was worried about you…” His expression softened instantly. “Don’t overthink it.” A sudden, indescribable bitterness flooded my chest. I really thought I had nothing left to feel. 5 “Don’t overthink it.” He’d said that to me, our graduation day. I was sobbing, terrified of the separation. Everyone said graduation was a death sentence for relationships. He held me at the train station. “Grace, don’t overthink it. As soon as I’m settled, I’m coming to see you.” At that same station. He went north, I went south. I was in a new city. On my first birthday alone, he promised he’d be there. He wasn’t. At 12:37 AM, someone pounded on my apartment door. He burst in, breathless, and grabbed me. “I’m sorry,” he panted. “I’m so late. I ran as fast as I could.” I found out later he’d spent his last dollar on the train ticket. He couldn’t afford a cab from the station. He’d walked. It was eight miles. I thought that was my life. Full of small heartbreaks, but always ending in a late, breathless arrival. I was wrong.

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The seventh year of our marriage was the year I found the proof. Not in a lipstick-stained collar, but in the digital breadcrumbs of an affair: a confirmation for a king suite at The Ritz-Carlton on his phone. It was three in the morning. I was sitting on the floor of our walk-in closet, the silk of a Hermès scarf he’d brought back from his “business trip” cool against my skin. The box, with its crisp orange corners, had a sticker from the Saks Fifth Avenue flagship, but there was no corresponding charge on our Amex statement. The sound of the shower cut off from the master bath. I quickly locked the screen, the WhatsApp chat he’d left open burning itself onto the back of my eyelids. The last message was a voice note from a woman named Chloe. “Ethan,” she’d purred, her voice a little husky. “Next time, try not to bite. People at the office will talk.” In the background, I could hear the faint, distinctive sweep of the second hand on the watch I’d given him last month. “Hey. Why are you still up?” Ethan emerged from the bathroom, rubbing a towel through his dark hair, droplets of water tracing paths down the hard lines of his abdomen. My eyes fixed on a fresh scratch, angry and red, just above his collarbone. The image was violently superimposed over the email I’d gotten from my doctor that afternoon. My latest blood work. CA-125 levels are significantly elevated. Abnormal tumor marker. He leaned in to kiss me, and I turned my head, the silk scarf whispering against my cheek. “You said you were in Chicago last week? For the conference?” “Yeah, closing the deal with the Henderson Group.” He answered so quickly. His thumb began to rub, almost imperceptibly, along the polished steel edge of his phone. His tell. The little motion that always gave away the lie. It was laughable, really. This was the boy who had once thrown his arm in front of a pot of boiling water to shield me in our crappy college dorm kitchen. Now, he couldn’t even be bothered to invent a new lie. My phone buzzed on the floor beside me. A new text from an unknown number. It was a picture—a grainy, black-and-white ultrasound. The message below it read: Mrs. Hayes, when the baby comes, should it call you Auntie Nora? Or Mommy? 1 Later that week, the champagne tower at the company’s IPO victory party reflected the ballroom’s crystal chandeliers in a thousand fractured points of light. I stood beside Ethan, a perfect portrait of the supportive wife, as he navigated the sea of investors with an easy, practiced charm. The sapphire cufflinks I’d given him for his last birthday flashed cold and blue as he lifted his glass in a toast. “You’re a lucky woman, Nora,” the wife of a board member murmured, squeezing my arm. “I hear you two were college sweethearts. From the dorm room to the NASDAQ… you don’t see that kind of story anymore.” I managed a tight smile, my gaze finding Ethan across the room. He was leaning in close to a female venture capitalist, his lips curved into that familiar, devastating smile. The woman wore a dark berry lipstick, and her fingers drifted, as if by accident, against the sleeve of his Tom Ford suit. A vibration in my palm. My phone. A notification from my patient portal. Your test results are ready to view. I swiped the screen open, my eyes scanning the document until they snagged on a single line. CA-125. Abnormal. Ovarian cancer marker. “What are you looking at so intensely?” Ethan was suddenly beside me, his breath warm with scotch. I locked my phone instinctively. “Nothing. Just a reminder from the clinic.” My hand went to straighten his tie, a gesture I’d performed a million times. As my fingers brushed against the side of his neck, they found it: a smear of rosy pink that wasn’t a trick of the light. Ethan flinched back, a half-step, but it felt like a mile. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my hand frozen in mid-air. “It’s just… hot in here.” He loosened his tie, his gaze darting away from mine. “Frank is waving me over. I’ll see you at home?” The rosy pink, I realized as he walked away, was the faint, blurred outline of a kiss. 2 It was in the seventh year that Ethan started locking his phone. “Just sensitive client data, you know how it is,” he’d explained, his finger tracing a pattern on the screen I couldn’t decipher. In college, we’d shared an Amazon account. In the acknowledgements of his senior thesis, he’d written, And to Nora Evans, for letting me scroll through her phone at all hours of the night in search of inspiration. Now, his phone was always, always screen-down on the nightstand. I stood in the closet, clutching the Hermès scarf he’d given me. The box was from the Fifth Avenue store, but our credit card statement showed no such purchase. Deep in his side of the closet, tucked into the pocket of a gray suit he wore often, I’d found it: a crumpled receipt from The Ritz-Carlton, Central Park. The date matched the Tuesday he was supposedly in Chicago. I’d pulled up Google Maps. The hotel was 1.2 miles from his office. The shower started in the en-suite bathroom. Mechanically, I tied the scarf around my neck. The silk felt like a cold snake against my skin. In the full-length mirror, my reflection was a ghost. My face was pale, drawn, with dark, sleepless circles under my eyes. At thirty, no amount of La Mer could compete with the effortless collagen of a twenty-something. The water stopped. I quickly closed the Maps app. Ethan walked out, a towel slung low on his hips, water beading on his abs. This was the body I had traced a thousand times with my fingertips, and now it felt like a stranger’s. “Your birthday’s tomorrow,” he said, picking his phone up from the charger. “What do you want?” I looked at the fresh scratch near his collarbone, the one I hadn’t mentioned. “I want you to come with me to the doctor,” I said softly. “My results came in.” “Tomorrow?” He frowned, his eyes already on his screen. “I don’t think I can swing it. An emergency meeting popped up, have to fly to Boston to meet a client.” He was typing rapidly now, the corner of his mouth ticking upwards into a slight smile. “I’ll have my assistant book a table at Per Se. You and your friends can celebrate.” I watched the muscles in his jaw work as he typed. He’d had that same suppressed smile ten years ago, when he was texting me to come meet him outside my dorm. I found out later he was live-texting the whole thing to his frat brothers, who had a running bet on whether he’d have the guts to kiss me. The curve of his lips was exactly the same. 3 On the morning of my thirtieth birthday, a delivery arrived. Ninety-nine long-stemmed Ecuadorian roses with a card bearing a generic, pre-printed message. Even his signature was just part of the font. My phone buzzed. A text from Ethan. Flight was moved up, heading to JFK now. Happy birthday. I’ll make it up to you. I called him. It rang seven times before he picked up. The background was silent. Not the chaotic din of an airport terminal. “In the Uber?” I asked. “Yeah, almost at Terminal 4,” he said. His breathing was strained, almost a gasp. “Signal’s probably spotty.” I opened the Find My Friends app. For “safety,” we’d agreed to share our locations years ago. His icon, a smiling picture of him from our trip to Italy, was pulsing steadily over an address on the Upper East Side. The Astor, a new, obscenely expensive condominium. The red dot burned into my retinas. “Which hotel did you say you were staying at last week?” I asked, keeping my voice light, conversational. “The Shangri-La, downtown,” he said instantly, then corrected himself. “No, wait, it was the Hyatt near the convention center.” A faint female voice drifted through the line. “Ethan, the water in the shower…” The call disconnected. I stood in front of the mirror, looking at the blush-pink silk dress I’d chosen for my birthday dinner. It was his favorite color on me. He said it reminded him of the slip I wore on our first real date. Now, the dress hung on my frame, loose and foreign. I’d lost twelve pounds in two months. On the coffee table sat his gift, still in its dark blue box. A pair of Patek Philippe watches, a matched set. The back of the men’s watch was engraved: To My Lighthouse. The women’s: To My Harbor. We were seniors in college, sitting on a cold beach in Maine, watching the distant beam of a lighthouse cut through the fog. He’d said I was his light when he felt lost at sea. I’d said he was the harbor I could always come home to. The doorbell rang. I turned, a stupid flicker of hope in my chest, but it was just a delivery guy. He handed me a small cake box. “From a Mr. Hayes. He requested a 7 p.m. delivery sharp.” I opened it. Tiramisu. He’d forgotten I was lactose intolerant. 4 I drove to The Astor. The doorman saw the Porsche and waved me through without a word. In the underground garage, on level B2, sat Ethan’s Audi A8. The last three digits of the license plate were 608, our wedding anniversary. June 8th. The elevator required a key fob. I stood in the marble lobby and called Ethan. On the seventh try, he answered, his voice tight with barely concealed anger. “What is it? I’m with a client.” “I’m in the lobby of The Astor,” I said. “Either you come down, or I start asking the concierge to let me up.” The silence on the other end of the line was absolute. Five minutes later, the elevator doors slid open. Ethan stood there, wearing a navy blue lounge set I’d never seen before. The collar was open, revealing a fresh, dark bruise on his neck. A hickey. Behind him stood a young woman in a silk robe, her bangs held back by the same designer hair clip I owned. “Nora?” the girl gasped. “Oh my god, Ethan, you didn’t tell me she was…” I knew her. Chloe. A management trainee from the marketing department we’d hired right out of college. I’d personally handed her her employee badge on her first day. She’d told me then how much she admired our love story. Now she was wearing my wedding ring on her finger.

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I am the hopeless Third Place. Every major exam, every ranking list—always stuck at number three. That is, until the day the results for the National Math Olympiad came out, and I suddenly saw the comments floating in the air. [OMG, the male lead totally tanked his score on purpose! He couldn’t bear to see Mia get punished.] [The heroine, Mia, purposely got the last question wrong too! The power couple is letting each other win. I am sobbing, I ship them so hard!] [They made a bet that whoever got second place had to run ten laps around the track, but they both tried to throw the game. Too bad they threw it too hard, and some NPC snatched first place.] [What’s her name? Zoe Reynolds?] Hearing my name, my heart hammered against my ribs. I am Zoe Reynolds. And it looked like my days of being the eternal bronze medalist were finally over. 1 In AP Calc, Mr. Harrison put a brutal problem on the board. I chewed on the end of my pen for ten minutes, calculating furiously, before accepting that this beast was outside my pay grade. I turned to the desk behind me. The resident genius. “Jace? Could you explain how to solve this? I’m stuck.” Jace Sterling was usually cold, the type who treated words like a limited currency. He rarely helped anyone. But this time, he glanced almost imperceptibly toward a certain seat in the front row, paused, and then set down his pen. His voice was cool, detached. “Sure.” He was concise. In three sentences, he untangled the knot in my brain. A true academic weapon. I looked at him with genuine admiration, completely missing the glare burning a hole in the back of my head. After the bell rang, I pulled out a tin of imported Danish butter cookies—my stash—to thank him. “Thanks for the help, Jace. Here.” I extended my hand. Clang. Before I could blink, the tin was slapped out of my hand. It hit the linoleum, cookies shattering into buttery dust. Mia Jenkins stood there, covering her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! It was an accident. I’ll buy you a new one, okay?” “No, it’s—” Before I could finish saying it’s fine, she cut in, her voice dripping with fake concern. “Besides, Jace doesn’t eat cookies. He’s gluten-intolerant. Didn’t you know?” I froze. I didn’t know that. Gluten-intolerant? But every time he came over to my place to drop off packages for his mom, he inhaled my Nana’s homemade apple pie. He’d eat three slices in one sitting. Before I could process the lie, Mia stepped over the mess she made, chin high, and marched up to Jace. She slapped a notebook onto his desk with the arrogance of a queen. “Hey, Ice Prince.” “Since you love helping people so much, explain this one to me, too.” Her voice was bright, bratty, and demanding. Jace, who usually froze people out for breathing too loud, didn’t get mad. Instead, the corner of his mouth ticked up. A smile so faint it was barely there, but his eyes? They were soft. He tapped the empty desk next to him with his pen. “Sit.” Smart, pretty girls get different rules. Without being asked, Jace’s lab partner scrambled out of his seat, winking as he left. “So, the derivative of this function…” Mia crossed her arms, pouting. “You think I’m dumb like the rest of them? I actually solved it ages ago. I have a different method. But if you call me a genius, I might deign to share it with you.” Social cues dictated I should leave. But they were discussing a new method for the problem. I stood there, listening, my brain lighting up. Wait, if you drop an auxiliary line between point A and E… I tried to chime in. “Actually, if you—” Ignored. I tried again. “What if we—” Nothing. It was like a force field surrounded them. I didn’t want to give up. A good scholar shares knowledge, right? If we pooled our brains, we could crack this three different ways. Just as I prepared to physically insert myself into the conversation, text started scrolling across my vision like a Twitch chat. [Jace is so sneaky. He helped that random girl just to make his wifey jealous.] [That girl asking for help is such a Pick-Me. Thank god Mia came in to mark her territory.] [Our Mia is a genius! Look at that Pick-Me trying to join the conversation and getting ignored. LOL.] [High IQ couple goals! I live for this academic rivals-to-lovers dynamic!] I frowned. Pick-Me? Who? Me? 2 It took me half a day of reading the floating text to figure it out. I was living inside a YA romance novel. Jace and Mia were the main characters. Jace was the textbook tortured hero: abusive dad, bedridden mom, little sister, brooding soul. Mia was the rich heiress destined to “save” him. At school, they were academic rivals. In private, they were apparently sucking face behind the bleachers. This should have had nothing to do with me. According to the chat, I was “NPC A.” A background character. But… I looked at the two of them, shoulders touching, and then at the comments screaming OMG SO CUTE. I furrowed my brow. How did I become the “Pick-Me”? I’m ranked third in the entire grade. I work my tail off. Why am I the villain just because I’m not them? Just because they hold the top two spots, does that make me a joke? And honestly, did they think Jace was some kind of prize? I bent down, cleaned up the crumbled cookies, and quietly swiped the scratch paper off Jace’s desk. Since they were geniuses, they didn’t need his notes. I handed the paper to my best friend, Chloe. She squealed and hugged me. “Zoe! You’re a wizard! How did you figure this out? I’ve been staring at this problem for an hour. You’re the GOAT!” I preened a little. “It’s nothing. Just math.” A crowd gathered around Chloe’s desk to see the solution. “Reynolds is a beast. Top three for a reason.” “Unlike some people who just brag.” “Seriously, Zoe, have you considered giving Einstein a run for his money?” I was laughing with them when I felt a cold stare. I turned. Mia was looking at me. Her expression was a mix of disgust, arrogance, and dismissal. She mouthed something at me. Don’t even try to compete. You can’t win. The chat exploded. [YAS QUEEN! Mia declaring war on the evil NPC!] [Put her in her place!] [I love a strong female lead! I hate these side characters who think the hero likes them just because he explained one problem. Sit down, honey!] Me: ? Literally, what did I do to you people? 3 From then on, every time I got within ten feet of Jace, the chat would appear. And Mia would swoop in like a hawk, staring me down with her big doe eyes as if I were about to trip and fall onto her precious boyfriend’s lips. Even though I did nothing. I took a deep breath. I tried to ignore the floating text. I tried to ignore Mia’s radar. I even quit our three-person study group. Last semester, Mia had approached me with a sweet smile. “Math Olympiad is coming up. Let’s form a study group!” I agreed. I even shared my “Holy Grail” binder—a collection of the hardest contest problems from the last ten years that I’d spent months compiling. I gave a copy to Jace, too. Scholars compete, sure, but I believed in rising tides lifting all boats. Apparently, that philosophy wasn’t mutual. I found out later they threw my binder in the trash. Mia’s high-priced private tutor had sneered at it. “Why waste time on problems from random state competitions? Stick to the Ivy League prep books.” The chat revealed the truth: The study group was just a cover so they could hang out at the library on weekends without their parents getting suspicious. I was the chaperone. The beard. While I was passionately explaining geometry proofs, they were holding hands under the table. I thought Mia’s flushed cheeks were from the library’s heating system. Nope. I was just part of their foreplay. Kermit sipping tea.jpg Gross. They didn’t know how valuable my binder was. I didn’t bother explaining. If they wanted to toss it, that was their loss. I kept my head down and grinded. The chat, however, knew the truth. [Stupid girl! That binder had legit questions from every state final! You can’t even find those online!] [Jace threw his copy out too. He has to show loyalty to his wifey. A true male lead doesn’t accept gifts from other girls.] [NOOOO! There was a question in there that’s exactly like the one on this year’s Olympiad!] Wait. Exactly like the one on the Olympiad? My eyes lit up. For the first time, I was grateful for the hallucinations. The binder was 180 pages. To finish it before the competition, I needed to do twenty pages a day. Forty problems. Let’s go. One afternoon, Mia breezed past my desk, smelling like Chanel No. 5. She saw me chewing on my pen, wrestling with a complex function. She smirked—a little curve of triumph mixed with pity. “Zoe, aren’t those questions a little… advanced? Above our syllabus?” I didn’t look up. “Just practicing.” “I just mean… if you don’t have the aptitude, don’t force it. Those problems aren’t meant for you.” She paused, widening her eyes innocently. “Don’t overthink it, though. I’m just looking out for you. You’re not mad, are you?” The malice was palpable. I didn’t get it. All I did was ask Jace for help once. I don’t usually curse. But I don’t let people walk all over me, either. I looked her dead in the eye. “None of your damn business.” The class went silent. Mia, who had clearly never been told ‘no’ in her life, turned bright red. She glared at me, eyes watering, and ran out of the room like a victim in a soap opera. The chat went nuclear. They called me every name in the book. Jace, who missed the interaction but saw the aftermath, marched over to my desk. The temperature in the room dropped. “Did you make her cry?” I looked up at him. “And?” I knew explaining was useless. To these two, reality was whatever they decided it was. Jace looked taken aback by my lack of defense. He squinted at me, analyzing. Then, with maximum arrogance, he said, “No matter what you do to get my attention, I won’t like you. I only love Mia.” I stared at him. It was so absurd I almost laughed. I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “You’re delusional.” What is his problem? We’ve been neighbors for years. He acts like I’ve been harboring a secret crush since kindergarten. Is narcissism a requirement for male leads? 5 I ignored them. I focused on the grind. The competition was held in D.C., a few hours away. It was my first time traveling without family. Nana was worried I’d get carsick, so she packed a bag of tangerines for me. On the bus, a classmate turned green. I pulled a tangerine from my reusable ‘Shop-Rite’ bag. “Here. The citrus smell helps.” “Oh my god, Zoe, you’re a lifesaver.” Mia was sitting two rows ahead, wearing a floral dress that probably cost more than my rent. She craned her neck like a swan. She spoke loudly enough for me to hear. “Ugh. The air in here smells like poverty.” She leaned onto Jace’s shoulder. Jace looked at her with a gentle expression I’d never seen at school. “Sorry, princess. Just endure it a little longer. Some people have no public decency.” I rolled my eyes again. Helping a sick kid is lacking decency? And what was Mia so proud of? The guy next to her was poorer than I was. I just wanted to get off the bus. When we arrived, I walked past them. Mia practically shouted: “Ice block, don’t look at her!” “Is she prettier than me? Is she? If you look at her again, I’ll gouge your eyes out so you can only look at me!” The chat laughed. [Hahaha, possessive Mia is so cute!] [The wifey is jealous! The cool guy melts for her.] [Does this Pick-Me have no shame? Always trying to insert herself.] I snapped. I stopped and turned around. “If you spent half as much time studying as you do inventing drama, maybe you wouldn’t embarrass yourself on the test.” I knew their “elite” tutor was a fraud who fed them flashy, impractical problems. I didn’t wait for their reaction. I walked into the exam hall. When the test landed on my desk, my heart soared. I recognized the patterns. I’d solved variations of these problems dozens of times. I had this in the bag. Ivy League application, here I come. I didn’t know then that Jace and Mia were about to pull their biggest stunt yet.

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In the seventh year of our marriage, the whole city was whispering about Jake Gesner’s secret son. Now, that son and his mother were sitting across from me in my own home. I said nothing. Today was the anniversary of my daughter’s death. And this was Jake’s idea of comfort: parading his mistress and her child through our front door. I gathered my daughter’s last belongings and laid the divorce papers on the table. 1 Back from the cemetery, I shrugged off my trench coat. Jake was lounging on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, his long, elegant fingers dancing across a tablet. I walked over to him, my voice a raw whisper. “I want a divorce.” He set the tablet down, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The living room was silent; he’d heard me. Was he already calculating how to get rid of me with the least amount of fuss? His posture was stiff, a knot of discomfort. “You haven’t spoken a single word to me in a year, and this is the first thing you want to say?” I didn’t know what else there was to say. I just nodded, feeling helpless. Jake’s lips thinned, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the sofa cushion. He was weighing his options. The rich aroma of dinner wafted from the kitchen, but instead of answering, Jake rose and moved to the dining table. The housekeeper served two bowls of rice, calling out softly to me, “Mrs. Gesner.” Those words shattered the last of my defenses. “Jake,” I said, my voice shaking. “Let’s get a divorce.” “Fine.” This time, he didn’t evade. A wave of relief washed over me. “I’ve already contacted a lawyer.” He picked up his bowl and began to eat, his movements deliberate and unhurried. “You don’t need to inform me about things like that.” I’d heard that line so many times before. When choosing a new rug, picking out bedsheets. Now, our divorce was just another household chore. I turned to go upstairs. As my foot touched the first step, Jake’s phone rang. He glanced at my retreating figure before answering. “Is this Jake Gesner? Your wife and son were in a car accident. Please get to the hospital immediately.” Jake’s face darkened instantly. He grabbed his coat, only then noticing I was still standing on the stairs. I started to move again, but he called out my name, his voice sharp. “Nora.” “Aren’t you going to ask where I’m going?” I turned slowly, forcing a brittle smile. “Does it matter?” Hearing the flat emptiness in my tone, he let out a cold, bitter laugh. “You’re really something, Nora.” He wrenched the door open and slammed it behind him. A gust of wind swept through the room, catching the family portrait our daughter, Mia, had drawn. It fluttered to the floor, and my vision blurred with tears. Mia, do you know, too? This thing we called a family… it’s been gone for a long time. Just as the first tear fell, my lawyer called. I had just finished the conversation when the doorbell rang. The housekeeper opened it to reveal Jake’s parents. “What is wrong with you two? Making such an ugly scene for everyone to see!” His mother, Eleanor, began berating me the second she saw me. His father, Richard, stood beside her, his hands clasped behind his back. “How do you plan to handle this?” he demanded. I uttered a single word. “Divorce.” “You’re both young, don’t be so impulsive,” Richard began, joining the campaign. “Jake is just playing around with that woman outside. He’ll come back to you eventually.” The unspoken message hung in the air: have another child, and you’ll tie him down for good. Suddenly, Eleanor threw her phone down in front of me with a cold snort. I picked it up. Tabloid pictures and sensational headlines told the whole story. [Unknown Dancer and Secret Son Move In: A Bid for Status or Pushing the Original Wife Out?] [The Next Gesner Heir Has Been Decided!] The accompanying photo was of Jake on a yacht with the other woman, Vivian, and her son, celebrating a birthday. Expensive gifts littered the table. The mother and son were wrapped around Jake, smiling sweetly for the camera. The online comments were even more vicious than the article. [The Gesners only have this one heir now. She can hang up her dancing shoes and marry into the dynasty.] [What can you do? She gave him a son. The ultimate trump card.] I handed the phone back to Eleanor with a faint smile. “Look what the media is saying! Even a woman off the street has more fight in her than you!” she snapped, her brow furrowed in disapproval. My voice was hoarse. “So, should I be congratulating him?” Eleanor slammed the phone on the floor, shaking her head at me in disappointment. “If you two had just had another baby sooner, would things have ever gotten this bad?” “Jake can’t be without a child. Have another one. It would be better for both of you.” I lowered my head, my lips pressed into a firm line as I shook my head no. Eleanor clutched her chest, sinking onto the sofa, gasping for breath. “A divorce is not a small thing. Have you and Jake truly thought this through?” Richard’s voice was laced with disbelief, his hands still clasped behind his back. “If you divorce him, you will never see Mia again.” He let the threat hang in the air. “Don’t forget, Mia is buried in the Gesner family plot.” 2 A thick film of tears clouded my vision. I looked up at Richard and laughed, a bitter, broken sound. Was the Gesner family reputation so important they would use their dead granddaughter as a bargaining chip? He brought up Mia, yet he’d completely forgotten that today was the anniversary of her death. On the way back from the cemetery, I had stopped at Mia’s favorite clothing store. A little girl who looked so much like her was standing by the entrance. For a heart-stopping moment, I thought it was her. I wanted to run to her, to hold her, to tell her how much I missed her. Then a young couple walked up and swept her into their arms, kissing her cheeks with adoration. I watched, mesmerized, until the reality crashed down on me. It was just a memory. Eleanor, having caught her breath, came over and took my hand. “Nora, your father-in-law and I only want what’s best for you. Don’t be so stubborn.” Divorce, it seemed, was my mistake. “He was just teasing you before, don’t take it to heart. We were heartbroken about Mia, too.” And how did they express that heartbreak? By pushing Jake to quit drinking, quit smoking, and get in shape, all so he could try for another child with me sooner. Their brand of grief was a fresh wound, carving pieces out of me. I refused Jake again and again. And then, the texts from Vivian started. Pictures of their happy little family of three. The images burned my eyes, a pain so sharp it stole my breath. It felt like Mia’s death had only affected me. I ran from the house. When I returned, it was empty, lifeless. He’d left a note, telling me he wasn’t coming back. “Ma’am, Mr. Gesner told us to tell you he’s going where he’s appreciated.” “He also said… he’s sick and tired of looking at your dead-inside face every day…” That evening, I changed and went to the Gesner family estate. They were hosting a party; my attendance was not optional. Standing at the entrance, I saw Jake with Vivian. When he noticed me, he sauntered over, hands in his pockets. “Nora, let me introduce you. This is Vivian, and this is Leo.” I nodded, my face a blank mask. Eleanor’s expression was thunderous, but it softened slightly when she saw the little boy, Leo. “Go get our guest a glass of water,” she instructed me. “And bring out some snacks.” I did as I was told. The house was crowded. Jake moved through it, a glass of champagne in hand, networking. Vivian cornered me. “Your marriage to Jake is over. Why won’t you just sign the papers?” I handed her the glass of water. “Jake won’t agree to it.” At that, she knocked the glass from my hand. “That’s impossible! You must be the one clinging to him!” The sound of shattering glass drew everyone’s attention. I called a housekeeper to clean up the mess and turned to leave. Suddenly, Vivian grabbed my arm, her grip tight. “You’d better divorce him soon,” she hissed. I struggled, but she squeezed harder. What was that around her neck? I looked closer, and my blood ran cold. I ripped the necklace from her. It was Mia’s. The last birthday present we ever gave her. Why was it around this woman’s neck? Vivian, seeing she’d been discovered, just smirked. “Surprised? Jake gave it to me.” Her face twisted into a grotesque, triumphant smile. “He said things are only meaningful on the living. And your daughter… she’s dead because you couldn’t take proper care of her!” I raised my hand and slapped her across the face with all the strength I had left. “Nora!” “There are guests everywhere! Are you determined to ruin this entire evening?” Jake appeared from nowhere, shielding Vivian. Leo burst into tears, his wails defending his mother. Jake’s face grew even darker, his eyes cold enough to freeze. I held up the necklace, my gaze fixed on him, my heart breaking all over again. “This was Mia’s birthday gift. Are you going to take even this from her?” “Can a necklace bring Mia back?” he retorted. “It’s better to focus on the people who are still here.” 3 His words struck me dumb. Jake’s cruelty plunged me into an abyss. My vision swam. I snapped the chain. Just like this necklace, the bond between Jake and me needed to be broken for good. Mia’s arrival was the greatest gift of my life. Every morning, Jake and Mia would surprise me with little things, eagerly waiting for my reaction. I would cook for them, basking in their praise. That life came to a screeching halt a year ago. I confronted Jake about the women he was seeing. We fought. He stormed out, furious. Mia tried to stop him with her tears, but for the first time, they didn’t work. He left, more determined than ever, and didn’t come home for a long time. After that, his scandals were all over my phone. Late one night, he finally came back, reeking of alcohol. Another fight erupted. He slammed the door, and in a moment of madness, I chased after him. Mia, quiet as a shadow, followed me. We were both in the car when it crashed. When I woke up, there was a death certificate on my bedside table. The hospital said they couldn’t reach Jake. Neither of us, Mia’s parents, were there for her final journey. On the television in my room, a news report showed Jake on a yacht, partying with some young starlet. My eyes were vacant. With a trembling hand, I dialed his number. “When are you coming home?” “What, you saw the news?” he sneered. “Feeling insecure seeing me with all these women younger and prettier than you?” I was silent, a lump forming in my throat. “Did Mia put you up to this?” He actually chuckled, proud of himself. My lips trembled. I couldn’t form the words to tell him she was gone. The starlet whined for his attention in the background. “I’m talking to my wife, shut your mouth!” he roared at her, his tone shifting in an instant. She covered her face and ran off, crying. I mumbled something, and finally heard him say he was coming home right now. But what good would that do? “Don’t bother,” I said, my voice dead. “Have fun out there.” “I already sent her away, what more do you want?” he demanded, his voice laced with frustration. I said each word slowly, distinctly. “Mia. Is. Dead.” That day, for the first time, I saw guilt and terror on Jake’s face. He rushed to the hospital and held me, murmuring reassurances. His voice was filled with a pain that mirrored my own, and we wept in each other’s arms. Back then, he told me Mia’s death wasn’t my fault. Less than a month later, he changed his story. He said it was all my fault. “You were her mother. You failed to protect her. How is that any different from killing her yourself?” I spent another night in Mia’s room. The door opened again. It was Jake. He took a step forward, reaching out to touch my head. I flinched away, telling him to get out of her room. “Nora, about the party… I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft as he opened his arms. “It won’t happen again.” I looked at him with swollen, red-rimmed eyes filled with disgust. He tried to pull me to him, and I bit his hand. The gentleness vanished from his face, replaced by pure rage. “It’s been a year! Haven’t you moved on yet?” he yelled. “Just because Mia is gone doesn’t mean our lives have to stop!” “Do you have any idea how disgusting it is to see you walking around like a zombie every single day?” He punched Mia’s small desk, then kicked over her toy box. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice cracking. “Nora, the reason we’re at this point… it’s all your fault.” “You deserve this.” 4 The door slammed shut, and silence returned. I cleaned up the mess he’d made and went back to my room, curling into a ball on the bed. You deserve this. I’d seen those words before. [Mr. Gesner loved his daughter so much, how dare Mrs. Gesner blame him?] [The fact that he hasn’t divorced her is his greatest act of mercy. She deserves all of this.] [The Gesners treated her so well, and she couldn’t even watch her own child. Of course he cheated. She deserved it.] [Good, if they can’t make it work, they should just split. Mr. Gesner will take care of Vivian and her son sooner or later.] [Yeah, hurry up and give up your spot as Mrs. Gesner. If you don’t want it, someone else does.] Did I really deserve all this? I’d lost track of how long it had been since I’d seen Jake. But I didn’t need to see him to know where he was. His relationship with Vivian was better than I imagined. With him as her patron, she was no longer some obscure dancer. She was suddenly a renowned artist. I only understood why Eleanor called when she got to the point. “When Jake’s reputation suffers, you, his wife, are the one people whisper about.” I nodded distractedly. I didn’t care anymore. The tabloids hadn’t used kind words for me either. Eleanor’s voice turned hesitant. “Can you two… really not work it out?” Clutching the phone, I remained silent. She sighed. “If you had just sat down and talked with him earlier, this all could have been resolved.” She started complaining, recounting the past. “I told him not to marry you back then, but he wouldn’t listen. And look at you now.” I held the phone away from my ear, hearing Richard in the background telling her to calm down. “How can I not be angry? If they had just lived their lives properly, would I be like this?” She grew more agitated, her voice rising as she pleaded with me. “Just talk to him, Nora. Settle things. Please?” Seeing my continued silence, she sighed again and hung up. The one she needed to plead with was never me. It was her son. After hanging up, the housekeeper brought me my coat. “Ma’am, the driver is ready.” I suddenly remembered I had one more thing to do today. “This is the jade pendant your daughter was wearing during the accident. We’ve repaired it,” the jeweler said gently. “But no matter how much we fix it, it can never be the same as it was.” I nodded. Repairing the jade was just a small comfort, a way to feel close to her. I slipped the pendant into my pocket. Before I could turn, I heard Vivian’s voice. “Nora, what are you doing here?” She was with Leo, browsing the jade displays. I studied them. Leo clung to Vivian, looking scared. “Jake said a child should wear something for protection, to ensure they grow up safe and sound,” she explained, though it sounded more like a taunt. Jake paid for their selection and then effortlessly lifted Leo into his arms. His face was unreadable, his gaze flickering away when it met mine. My phone buzzed. A message from my lawyer. The divorce papers had been sent to Jake. “Why haven’t you responded to the lawyer?” I held up my phone, my voice calm. Asher, the appraiser, had returned. I wasn’t going to listen to any more of Jake’s excuses. I knew he was just ignoring it, like always. “Mr. Asher,” I said, turning to the man who had just re-entered the shop. “I have some time today. Shall we go now?” Mr. Asher smiled warmly and nodded. “Nora!” Jake’s voice cut through the air behind me. I stopped, and turned to face him.

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1 I was laid off from the big auto plant. Middle-aged, with no other marketable skills, the only work I could find was managing the stockroom at a small private manufacturing firm. On my first day, I saw it in the corner, a massive machine shrouded in dust. It was a state-of-the-art imported precision instrument, worth over half a million dollars, just sitting there like a heap of scrap metal. A new coworker snickered. “Don’t even bother looking. The boss paid a fortune for it, hired eight different experts, and none of them could get it working. It’s just an expensive paperweight now.” I walked over, my hand tracing the familiar lines of its chassis. “I can fix this.” The entire workshop fell silent. The boss, hearing the commotion, came over and looked me up and down with contempt. “You fix it, and I’ll give you half my shares in this company. You can’t, and you’ll spend the rest of your life paying me back for it.” The hot, dry air of the workshop smelled of machine oil and metal dust. Every eye was on me, a spotlight of disbelief and scorn, as if they were looking at a madman. The boss, Rick Thorne, a man in his forties with a growing paunch and gold-rimmed glasses, pushed through the crowd. He sized me up, his gaze as sharp as a scalpel, traveling from my faded, washed-out work shirt down to my dust-covered, steel-toed boots. Finally, his eyes settled on my hands, a roadmap of calluses and small, silvery scars. “You?” he grunted, the sound a mix of disbelief and open mockery. “John Carter, is it? HR told me you used to manage a warehouse at the old GM plant.” “I was a senior technician,” I corrected him. My voice wasn’t loud, but each word was clear. “Senior technician?” Rick acted as if I’d just told the joke of the century. He let out a booming laugh, his belly shaking. A wave of sycophantic laughter echoed through the workshop. “A senior technician working in a stockroom? Come on, Carter, that’s not even a good lie.” “I’m not lying.” I met his eyes and repeated, “I can fix it.” My gaze drifted past him to the behemoth slumped in the corner. A German DMG MORI 5-axis machining center. Its ivory-white enamel casing was coated in a thick layer of grime, like a forgotten work of art. My heart gave an unexpected twinge—the bittersweet ache of seeing an old friend again. Rick’s laughter died in his throat. A muscle in his fleshy cheek twitched, and his eyes turned hard and cold. “Alright, fine.” He clapped his hands together. “I’ve got twenty engineers on my payroll. I’ve spent over seventy grand on eight so-called experts and professors, and not one of them had the balls to say what you just said.” He stepped right up to me, his stubby finger nearly poking my nose. “And you, a new stockroom guy, you’re telling me you can fix it?” “I am.” I didn’t flinch. “Done!” He threw his arm out. “We’ll make a bet, right here, right now! You get this machine running, and I’ll give you half of this company! We’ll draw up the papers, sign them on the spot!” A collective gasp went through the crowd. Half the company. That was millions. Rick’s eyes turned vicious, like a cornered animal’s. “But if you can’t fix it, or if you break it even more…” He gritted his teeth, his voice a low growl. “This machine cost me five hundred thousand dollars. You’ll be working for me for the rest of your life to pay it off.” The workshop was dead silent. Even the whirring of the fans seemed to have stopped. “Boss, don’t waste your time with this idiot,” the shop foreman said, trying to smooth things over. “Yeah, Rick, he’s just trying to make a name for himself.” Rick ignored them, his eyes locked on mine. “You in or out?” An image of my wife, Sarah, her face pale and thin, flashed through my mind. The cost of her medication had already drained our savings. My daughter had just gotten into college; she needed money now more than ever. I’d been “downsized,” tossed aside like a fish on the shore. This trade, this skill that everyone else looked down on, was all I had left. Dignity? Dignity doesn’t pay the bills. But this fire in my chest, this burning need to prove them all wrong, was suffocating me. “I’m in,” I heard myself say. A cruel smile spread across Rick’s face. “Good. You’ve got guts.” He turned and barked at his assistant. “Mark! Get the contract! No, not a contract—a betting agreement! I’m going to teach this guy a lesson today about running his mouth!” A few minutes later, a sheet of paper, still warm from the printer, was slapped down in front of me. Equipment Repair Betting Agreement. Party A: Rick Thorne. Party B: John Carter. The terms were brutally simple: If John Carter successfully repaired the DMG 5-axis machining center, Party A would transfer 50% of the company shares. If the repair failed or caused further damage, John Carter would be liable for the full depreciated value of the equipment, totaling five hundred thousand dollars. “And I mean it about you paying me back for the rest of your life,” Rick said, lighting a cigarette. The smoke swirled around his face, making him look even more menacing. “If you can’t pay, you’ll be my indentured servant. I’ll be sure to ‘take good care’ of your wife and kid, too.” It was a naked threat. The other workers gathered around, whispering. “He’s crazy. He’s actually going to sign it.” “Look at him. How’s he ever going to pay that back? He’s signing away his entire life.” “Serves him right for being a loudmouth.” I picked up the pen, its tip hovering over the paper for a second. I remembered my wife that morning, grabbing my hand, her eyes full of worry. “John, don’t push yourself too hard. Your health is what’s important. We’ll make the money back, slowly.” I remembered my daughter’s excited voice on the phone. “Dad, I got a scholarship! It’ll help you and Mom out!” I couldn’t fail. I had to win. Without another moment’s hesitation, I signed my name, John Carter, on the line for Party B. After I finished, I looked up, meeting Rick’s contemptuous gaze. “Boss, I need an advance. Three months’ salary.” Rick stared at me, dumbfounded. Then, he burst out laughing, even louder and more derisive than before. “Ha! Hahahaha! You haven’t even started working, and you’re already asking for money? You son of a…” He caught himself, his expression shifting to one of pure disgust. “Fine! You want it? You got it!” He had the accountant bring a stack of cash and, in front of everyone, slammed it onto the table in front of me. “Two thousand bucks! Go buy your wife her medicine!” The green bills scattered like leaves, fluttering across the floor. Some slid under the greasy base of a nearby lathe. In that moment, all sound faded away. I could only hear the roar of blood rushing to my head. Humiliation, like a dull knife, sawed at my insides. I bent down in silence. Under the watch of dozens of pairs of eyes, I picked up the money, one bill at a time, each one carrying the warmth and scorn of another man. I carefully smoothed the wrinkles from the oil-stained bills, folded them neatly, and placed them in the inside pocket of my shirt, right over my heart. A young woman standing behind Rick, maybe in her early twenties and wearing a white sundress, frowned. It was his daughter, Lisa. I didn’t look at anyone. I turned and walked straight toward the dust-covered machine. My back was ramrod straight. “She’s mine now.” 2 I walked a slow circle around the DMG machine, like I was inspecting a long-lost friend. The others had dispersed, returning to their workstations, but I could feel their eyes on me, their ears tuned in, all waiting to see the “clown” in the corner make a fool of himself. Lisa hadn’t left. She stood a short distance away, arms crossed, her face a mask of undisguised skepticism and curiosity. “I need a toolset,” I said to her. She raised an eyebrow. “What kind of tools? The stockroom is full of them. Go get them yourself.” I shook my head and recited a string of German words. “Eine komplette Garnitur von der Hoffmann Group, Drehmomentschlüssel, Satz Feinmessschrauben…” Lisa’s expression froze. She only understood bits and pieces, but the authentic German pronunciation chipped away at the disdain on her face. “What did you say?” I switched back to English, patiently repeating myself. “A German-made Hoffmann Group toolset. Sixteen-piece socket set, a torque wrench, and a set of precision micrometers. They were bought with the machine when the factory was set up. Should be in a silver metal case.” The shop foreman, a jaded old-timer named Dave, let out a snort. “Hey, Carter, who do you think you are? You think you know where everything is? We don’t have anything like that here.” “You do,” I said calmly. “It’s in the stockroom, second row of shelves, third box from the top. It should have a label on it that says ‘Ersatzteile’.” Dave’s face changed. “Ersatzteile” was German for “spare parts.” The label was there, but almost no one in the factory knew what it meant. Lisa’s eyes lit up. She turned to the foreman. “Dave, go have a look.” Dave, muttering about how I was just guessing, took two workers and headed to the stockroom. A few minutes later, the three of them returned, carrying a dusty silver metal case, their faces etched with astonishment. They opened the case. Inside, nestled in red velvet lining, was a brand-new set of German tools, gleaming with a metallic sheen, the protective oil still slick on their surfaces. Dave’s face went from red to white and back again. A few hushed gasps rippled through the onlookers. The way Lisa looked at me had completely changed. I paid them no mind. I put on a pair of reading glasses I’d pulled from my pocket and took a long, thin metal rod from the case—a mechanic’s stethoscope. I didn’t open a single electrical cabinet or connect any diagnostic equipment. I gently placed one end of the rod against the machine’s main spindle housing. Then, I bent down and pressed the other end firmly to my ear. I closed my eyes. The gesture was like a seasoned old doctor listening to a chronically ill patient. “Heh, what a showoff. Who does he think he’s fooling?” a young worker whispered. “Yeah, thinks he’s some kind of machine whisperer? He’s going to diagnose it just by listening?” Lisa frowned, clearly baffled by what I was doing. I heard none of it. My world had shrunk to just me and this machine. I could hear the subtle sounds from within. The almost imperceptible, abnormal friction between the gears. The minuscule, jerky hesitation as the guide rails slid. The faint popping of air bubbles in a specific point of the lubrication line. To anyone else, it was just noise. To me, it was a detailed diagnostic report, clear as day. For a full ten minutes, I didn’t move. Then, I straightened up and took off my glasses. I reached out with my rough hands and, as if stroking a lover’s skin, ran my fingertips over the cold seams of the guide rails, again and again. My fingers could feel the microscopic misalignments and wear, measured in microns. “Well?” Lisa finally broke the silence. Her voice had lost its earlier contempt, replaced now by sheer bewilderment. I turned to face her, and to face Rick and the other workers who had gathered around again. I announced my diagnosis. “It’s not an electrical problem.” “It’s the machine’s XY-axis drive module. It took a hard impact during shipping or installation, causing an irreversible loss of mechanical precision.” “My initial estimate is a deviation of at least 50 microns.” The statement hit the workshop like a bomb. Lisa’s eyes went wide. She rushed over to a nearby desk, rummaged through a pile of papers, and pulled out a report, holding it up to me. “But… but the diagnostic report from those eight experts concluded it was a ‘main control chip overload and burnout, drive circuit board failure, recommend complete replacement of the motherboard and servo system’!” On the report, the words “Main Control Chip Failure” were in bold red, followed by a shocking repair quote—one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. My eyes scanned the report, and a cold smile touched my lips. “They were wrong.” “How can you be so sure?” Lisa pressed, her voice urgent. I pointed to an inconspicuous hex bolt on the machine’s base. “This bolt is one of the reference points for leveling the machine at the factory. Its torque specification is incredibly strict, with a tolerance of less than 0.1 Newton-meters.” I gave the bolt a gentle twist with my fingers. “But the torque on this bolt is wrong. It’s been re-tightened.” “And by an amateur. Not only did they fail to recalibrate it, but they also destroyed the stress balance of the entire base that was set at the factory.” “That’s the real source of the precision loss.” “As for the electrical alarms,” I paused, “that’s just the system’s self-preservation kicking in. The mechanical error is causing the servo motors to overload.” The workshop was utterly silent. Everyone was staring at me as if I were some kind of alien. A stockroom manager, using only his ears and hands, had just refuted the conclusions of eight professors armed with sophisticated instruments. It was unbelievable. Rick’s face was a storm of conflicting emotions—doubt and shock warring for dominance. Lisa was completely floored. The last traces of disdain in her eyes had vanished, replaced by a profound, undisguised astonishment and intense curiosity. “Talk is cheap,” Rick said, his face grim, breaking the silence. “You said you can fix it, so fix it. I don’t care if you heard it or felt it. I just want results.” “Alright.” I said nothing more. I took off my outer shirt, leaving me in a gray, worn-out tank top. From the new Hoffmann toolset, I selected a few oddly shaped instruments. With no blueprints, no repair manual, I began to disassemble the machine’s core drive system. My every movement had a strange, fluid rhythm. Which screw to loosen, with how much force. Which component to remove, in what order. It was all as if I had practiced it a thousand times, the motions ingrained in my muscle memory. My hands, those calloused and scarred hands, moved with the grace of a dancer. The crowd of workers, who had initially been watching for entertainment, fell silent. “Look at him, pretending he knows what he’s doing. It’ll be hilarious when he can’t put it back together.” “Yeah, this is German engineering. You can’t just mess with it without a manual. He’s asking for trouble.” But gradually, the snickering stopped. Everyone held their tongue, their expressions shifting from amusement to silence, then to surprise, and finally, to something bordering on awe. To these trained eyes, what I was doing was simply impossible. It was a level of skill that transcended technique and approached art. Lisa had found a thick, original German-language repair manual from somewhere. She flipped through the pages frantically, her eyes darting between the book and my hands. Her mouth fell open. “Oh my God… your procedure…” she stammered, her voice trembling. “It’s in the manual… the ‘Emergency Calibration for Extreme Conditions’… But… my professor in Germany said this was just a theoretical best-case scenario, that no one could actually do it in real life!” The procedure demanded an impossible level of feel, experience, and judgment. One tiny mistake would scrap the entire core module. I didn’t look up, my focus entirely on measuring the clearance of a ball screw with a specialized caliper. “Theory?” I said quietly. “Twenty years ago, in Hannover, the old masters at DMG taught me this, step by step.” I paused, wiping the sweat from my brow. I looked up at Lisa’s stunned face and revealed a piece of my past. “Twenty years ago, Hannover, Germany. DMG headquarters. I was in the first group of technicians they ever invited from my country.” My mind flashed back to a time when I was full of fire and ambition. FLASHBACK In my twenties, wearing a crisp blue uniform, I stood before the most advanced machine tools in the world, my eyes shining with a hunger for knowledge. I was surrounded by stern German engineers and top technicians from across the globe. Driven by a stubborn refusal to be second-best and a natural gift, I mastered every technique in record time. I was even debating design improvements with the German masters. We drank beer together, pulled all-nighters over blueprints. We gave names to every machine we calibrated. A blond, blue-eyed engineer named Klaus clapped me on the shoulder, saying in his broken English, “John! You are a genius! A true mechanical genius!” END FLASHBACK I looked at the dusty machine before me, my gaze softening. “Back then, this model was called the DMC-60H. We called her ‘Ingrid’.” “She was like a proud, precise German woman. You had to treat her with the utmost gentleness and understanding. Only then would she show you her perfect side.” “I’m just… catching up with an old friend I haven’t seen in years.” Lisa was speechless. She stared at me—this middle-aged man in a stained tank top, his back slightly stooped. She couldn’t reconcile the man before her with the image of a washed-up factory worker laid off and forced to take a menial job. The cognitive dissonance was overwhelming. “Who… who are you?” She used a respectful tone, her voice quivering. I just smiled and didn’t answer. I turned back to my work. Using a special technique, like a dragonfly skipping across water, I began to tap the locking pins of the calibration module. The force and location of each tap were terrifyingly precise. The only sound in the workshop was the crisp, rhythmic tink, tink, tink. That sound was like a hammer, striking at the heart of every person watching. It shattered their deep-seated arrogance, the belief that a person’s worth was measured by their degree or job title. Three hours later, the mechanical calibration was complete. I fitted the last casing panel and tightened the final screw. The entire process had been flawless. Of the hundreds of parts I had removed, not a single one was left over, not a single one was missing. “Done,” I said, straightening up and letting out a long breath. The workshop was deathly still. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the miracle. Rick’s fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white, his palms slick with sweat. His face was a cocktail of hope, anxiety, and disbelief. Lisa looked at me with open adoration. She walked to the control panel, took a deep breath, and with a slightly trembling hand, pressed the green start button. VMMMMMM— A smooth, pleasant electrical hum filled the air. The machine’s LCD screen lit up, and a series of indicator lights flashed on as it began its self-diagnostic sequence. “It’s on! The screen is on!” a worker shouted excitedly. A massive grin of pure joy spread across Rick’s face. It worked! It actually worked! This hunk of metal, condemned by eight experts, had just been brought back to life by this unassuming stockroom manager. But their joy lasted less than ten seconds. BEEP—BEEP—BEEP— A shrill, piercing alarm cut through the workshop’s quiet hum. The LCD screen flashed, displaying a wall of red error codes in German. At the very top, a bold warning message stabbed through everyone’s hopes. SYSTEM OVERLOAD! SHUTDOWN IMMEDIATELY! The alarm was so sharp it felt like it could puncture eardrums. The lights that had just turned on all went dark. The codes on the screen scrolled frantically before settling on a solid, bloody red. The celebratory mood that had just filled the workshop was instantly doused in ice water. Rick’s smile froze on his face, twisting into something uglier than a grimace. How could this happen? It was working. Why would it suddenly alarm out? Just then, hurried footsteps echoed from the workshop entrance. “Mr. Thorne! Mr. Thorne! I brought Professor Evans!” It was Mark, the assistant, escorting a man in his late fifties wearing a sharp suit. It was the head of the “eight experts” Rick had hired, Professor Evans himself. The moment the professor walked in and saw me, the “stockroom guy,” standing next to the machine, his face darkened. “Sheer madness!” he boomed, his voice dripping with academic arrogance and the fury of a man whose authority had been challenged. “Mr. Thorne, didn’t I tell you? This is an incredibly delicate piece of equipment! Any contact by an untrained person could have devastating consequences! How could you let a handyman touch my ‘patient’?!” He rushed to the control panel and glanced at the blood-red error codes, his face contorting into an expression of profound grief. He slapped his thigh dramatically and pointed at the screen. “It’s over! It’s completely ruined!” “Mr. Thorne, the motherboard is completely fried! Before, it was just a problem with the drive chip; there was a glimmer of hope. But after he’s been messing with it, a high-voltage surge has fried the main CPU! This machine is now, officially, a pile of scrap! There is zero hope of repair!” Every word from the professor was a sledgehammer blow to Rick’s heart. Rick’s face went from pale to ashen, and finally to a dark, thunderous black. He whipped his head around, his eyes locking onto me, a gaze so cold and raw it could have stripped flesh from bone. “John… Carter…” His voice was a guttural snarl, filled with the rage of a man who has been deceived and betrayed. The “life or death” agreement I had signed, the half-million-dollar debt, felt like an invisible mountain crashing down on top of me. The looks from the crowd—gleeful, pitying, scornful—weaved into a suffocating net, trapping me in the center. I met Rick’s murderous glare and Professor Evans’s smug, triumphant sneer. And I said, each word perfectly clear, “He’s wrong.” “This isn’t an overload.” “It’s a safety protocol. Someone intentionally altered the safety thresholds in the system.” The professor burst out laughing before I had even finished. “Preposterous! Absolutely preposterous!” He pointed a finger at my nose and addressed the room. “Listen to this! A stockroom manager who can’t even read a circuit diagram is lecturing me on safety parameters? This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!” “This is a classic cascade failure caused by hardware damage! Do you even know what a safety parameter is? Do you have any idea what level of security clearance is required to access this machine’s backend?” He turned to Rick, his voice dripping with feigned sympathy as he twisted the knife. “Mr. Thorne, you were too soft-hearted, and you let this con artist fool you! And now look! Five hundred thousand dollars, down the drain!” Rick’s fists were clenched so hard they were cracking. Veins bulged on the back of his hands. He pointed at me, his voice trembling with fury. “Carter, you better have a damn good explanation.” “Or that contract…” “You’re not walking out of this workshop today!”

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I adjusted a male customer’s tie, and his wife slapped me across the face. “Don’t you know tying a tie is an intimate act meant for a wife?” “Can’t wait to seduce my husband, can you?” “Too bad—he has no taste. Every piece of clothing he buys has to be approved by me.” “Your commission is actually in my hands!” Later, I finished my grassroots internship and returned to corporate headquarters. We ended up partnering with her husband’s company, and I was the client representative. At the gala, the couple’s faces changed. “You… weren’t you just a poor salesgirl? How…” I swirled my red wine, speaking calmly: “Now, your family’s future livelihood is in my hands.” 1 I finished tying Mr. Sterling’s tie and stepped back, satisfied with my work. The dark red striped tie made him look sharper. I smiled. “Mr. Sterling, this tie really suits you. It’s perfect with this dark gray suit.” Mr. Sterling turned in front of the mirror, nodding in approval. “It is nice, Sarah. You always have a good eye.” Just then, a shrill female voice cut through the air— “Well, well, here you are!” I turned to see a well-dressed middle-aged woman storming over, anger written all over her face. I recognized her immediately as Mrs. Sterling. I’d seen her in the store a few times, but her expression today was far from her usual elegance. Before I could react… Slap! A heavy hand struck my face. Pain mixed with ringing in my ears. I clutched my face in shock, momentarily frozen. “Who told you to tie his tie?” “Don’t you know tying a tie is an intimate act meant for a wife?!” Mrs. Sterling glared at me, her voice loud enough for the entire floor to hear. “Can’t wait to seduce my husband, can you?” I was too shocked to speak, stammering out a defense: “Mrs. Sterling, you’ve misunderstood, I was just doing my job…” “Job?” She sneered, scanning the crowd of customers who had stopped to watch. “Look, what a professional ‘job’! Tying a tie for a customer personally, fingers brushing against his neck?” Mr. Sterling seemed frightened by the sudden scene. He tried to calm his wife: “Honey, you misunderstood, Sarah was just helping me choose clothes…” “Shut up!” Mrs. Sterling cut him off sharply, then turned to me, eyes full of disdain. “Too bad—he has no taste. Every piece of clothing he buys has to be approved by me.” “This tie, I don’t like the look of it. Take it off!” My hands trembled slightly. I wanted to help Mr. Sterling remove the tie, but feared touching him would cause a bigger misunderstanding. Embarrassed, Mr. Sterling undid the tie himself and handed it to me. Mrs. Sterling pulled a visibly more expensive designer tie from her bag: “This is what suits him.” She spoke arrogantly, then gave me a meaningful look. “Do you know? Your commission is actually in my hands!” “The person you should be pleasing isn’t him, it’s me.” “Don’t you know how many clothes the Sterling family buys here a year?” I kept my head down, face burning not just from the slap, but from the public humiliation. The store manager ran over, piling on an obsequious smile. “Mrs. Sterling, if there’s anything you’re dissatisfied with, please tell me, we will correct it immediately.” “This girl has terrible taste. The matching is a disaster.” Mrs. Sterling glanced at me with contempt. “Her sales numbers probably come from seducing male customers, don’t they?” I clenched my fists, took a deep breath, and suppressed my anger. Months of sales experience taught me that offending a wealthy wife is scarier than offending ten regular customers. “Sarah is just an intern; she doesn’t know the rules,” the manager said, smiling apologetically. “I’ll arrange for a senior stylist to serve you immediately.” Mrs. Sterling raised an eyebrow triumphantly, as if she’d won a victory. Mr. Sterling finally stole a glance at me, seemingly apologetic, but quickly looked down again. “Don’t let it happen again.” Mrs. Sterling dropped these words and dragged Mr. Sterling toward the VIP area. The manager turned to me and whispered, “Bear with it. This couple is a major partner for headquarters.” I touched my burning cheek, watching their retreating figures, and murmured: “Does being a headquarters partner mean you can be this arrogant and abusive?” 2 The next day, as soon as the store opened, a group of fashionable women surrounded Mrs. Sterling as they walked in. All of them dripped with jewelry, radiating the aura of luxury. Mrs. Sterling spotted me immediately, a sneer flashing in her eyes, and deliberately raised her voice. “Ladies, that’s her! The salesgirl I told you about, the one who’s been eyeing my husband.” My hand froze in mid-air, and the shirt I was organizing fell back onto the rack. Other colleagues lowered their heads, pretending not to hear, while only the manager hurried over: “Welcome, ladies. How can I help you today?” Mrs. Sterling waved the manager away. “Not you. We’re here specifically to see her.” She walked straight toward me, followed by four or five women of similar age, their eyes sharp enough to poke holes in me. “This is the homewrecker counter girl I told you about.” Mrs. Sterling pointed at me. “You all need to be careful. Don’t let your husbands get snatched by this fox.” “Yesterday, my husband was buying clothes, and she was throwing herself at him while I wasn’t looking.” A woman wearing a huge gemstone ring looked me up and down, scoffing: “With those looks? You’re too sensitive, Cindy.” “You don’t know. The ones who look innocent are the best actors.” Mrs. Sterling pulled a stack of pink receipts from her bag. “Look, I checked my husband’s spending records. He’s been here every month recently, and every time, she served him.” “Oh, interesting.” Another woman with a ponytail leaned in. “Every month. No wonder you’re vigilant.” I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. Those receipts were indeed Mr. Sterling’s, but we never had any inappropriate relationship! He was just one of the few regular customers I had! “Mrs. Sterling, you’ve misunderstood.” I struggled to maintain a professional smile. “Mr. Sterling is our VIP client. The system automatically assigns returning customers to the sales associate who served them last.” “Listen to that—” Mrs. Sterling clapped sarcastically. “Such a smooth talker. VIP client? More like your VIP target, right?” Other customers in the store looked over, some even taking out phones to record. Colleagues hid far away, except for the manager standing nearby, looking grim. “You know, my husband often mentions a project with a public company recently. He might even get promoted.” Mrs. Sterling walked up to me, lowering her voice deliberately: “Do you think hooking up with him will get you to the top?” I knew Mr. Sterling was a partner of our brand, but besides normal sales reception, I never had any improper thoughts. I shook my head helplessly. “Too bad.” Mrs. Sterling raised her eyebrows. “Good things like that won’t fall to a small fry like you!” The ponytail woman put a hand on Mrs. Sterling’s shoulder. “Don’t be mad. We’re here to spend money today, right?” She turned to me. “Since you like serving people so much, serve us well.” Mrs. Sterling seemed to get the signal. She pulled a hundred-dollar bill from her bag and threw it on the floor in front of everyone. “Pick it up,” she said coldly. “That’s your tip for today.” The air seemed to freeze. The store was so quiet I could hear breathing. I looked down at the money, ears ringing. Since starting in sales, I had never been humiliated like this. I took a deep breath, looked up, and met her eyes: “Our store does not accept tips in this manner. Please respect every service staff member.” “What did you say? What is a poor intern being arrogant about?” Mrs. Sterling leaned in. “Mrs. Sterling, your company just won the bid for the ‘Underprivileged Schools Uniform’ project last month. If you want to maintain a philanthropist image, choosing to throw money in a luxury store with cameras might not be the best move.” Mrs. Sterling’s face turned red instantly. “You—” “Mrs. Sterling!” The manager suddenly stepped forward, bent down to pick up the money, and handed it back to her. “I’m sorry, we do have a rule against employees accepting tips.” “If you are here to shop today, we welcome you.” “If you are just here to cause trouble… please forgive us for not being able to serve you.” Mrs. Sterling’s eyes widened. “You dare kick me out?” “Not kicking you out.” The manager smiled, voice firm. “Just hoping you can respect our work environment. This sales associate is our top performer and has never crossed any lines with your husband.” I looked at the manager in surprise, not expecting him to stand up for me at such a moment. Mrs. Sterling’s friends looked at each other, seeming to find the situation awkward. The ponytail woman gently pulled Mrs. Sterling’s arm. “Forget it. This store doesn’t look like it has anything good anyway. Let’s go next door.” Mrs. Sterling glared at me viciously: “Just you wait. I can make this store close down immediately!” She shook off her friend’s arm and led the group of women away, leaving a room full of whispering customers and relieved staff. “Are you okay?” the manager asked me. I shook my head, hands still trembling slightly. 3 … When Mr. Sterling appeared at the store entrance, I was bending over to organize the pile of clothes Mrs. Sterling and her friends had messed up. Seeing him looking around nervously, I instinctively took a step back. “Miss Sarah.” He walked quickly to me, lowering his voice. “I’m really sorry, my wife is…” I waved my hand, trying to end this awkward topic. “No need to explain, Mr. Sterling.” But he insisted, “No, my wife is just… Sigh, I came to apologize. I’ll take all the clothes I tried on yesterday.” Mr. Sterling pulled a credit card from his inner jacket pocket, fingers trembling slightly as he handed it to me. The manager noticed the commotion and looked at me inquiringly. I nodded to signal everything was fine. “Is this okay?” I whispered. “Mrs. Sterling will be even angrier if she finds out.” Mr. Sterling smiled bitterly. “It’s fine. I really like these outfits.” I took the card and led him to the register. Mr. Sterling stood aside, looking like he wanted to say something. After paying, he suddenly took a gold-rimmed business card from his pocket. “Um… if you have any difficulties in the future…” His voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. “Feel free to contact me anytime.” Just as I was about to refuse the card, a blinding flash went off. I squinted to see Mrs. Sterling storming into the store with her phone raised, followed by the same group of arrogant women. “Caught you!” She strode in. “I knew you two were up to something!” Mr. Sterling’s face turned pale instantly. “Don’t talk nonsense, I was just…” “Just what?” Mrs. Sterling snatched the card from my hand and tore it to pieces. “Giving your contact info to a mistress?” “Ma’am, you misunderstood!” I tried to explain. “Mr. Sterling was just…” Before I could finish, a sharp pain hit me— Mrs. Sterling grabbed my hair, pulling so hard my vision went black. “Slut! Seducing my husband and acting righteous?” she screamed. Customers backed away in fear, some taking out phones to record. Mrs. Sterling’s friends also raised their phones, aiming at the scene. “Stop!” The manager rushed forward to pull Mrs. Sterling away but was shoved aside by the ponytail woman. “Stay out of this! This is a family matter!” Mr. Sterling stood by, lips trembling, unable to say a word. I struggled to break free from Mrs. Sterling’s grip, but she held onto my hair like a maniac. “Look at this vixen!” Mrs. Sterling shouted at her friend’s phone. “Daring to seduce my husband! I’ll make sure you can’t work on this street ever again!” Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably, not from pain, but from the unprecedented humiliation. Mall security arrived but was surrounded by Mrs. Sterling’s friends. Just then, two police officers rushed into the store. The manager had called them when things started going south. The lead officer grabbed Mrs. Sterling’s wrist. “Stop! Physical assault in a public place. You are suspected of intentional injury.” The officer’s voice allowed no argument. Mrs. Sterling panicked, struggling to look back. “Husband! Richard! Say something!” But Mr. Sterling had already hidden behind the fitting rooms, only showing half his head, eyes dodging. When the police took Mrs. Sterling away, he didn’t even dare to follow, just standing there rubbing his hands. When the store finally calmed down, I slumped behind the counter, shaking all over. The manager handed me a cup of warm water, whispering: “It’s okay now. I’ve asked security for the surveillance footage.” I looked toward where Mr. Sterling had stood— He had slipped away in the chaos, leaving only a crumpled business card lying lonely on the floor. I bent down to pick it up and found a line of small writing in pencil on the back: [Contact me if you have any trouble.] The handwriting was so shaky it was barely legible. The manager sighed, took the card, and threw it in the trash. “It’s better to stay away from people like that.” 4 Three days after the incident, I thought everything would settle down since Mrs. Sterling had been taken away by the police for investigation. However, things spiraled completely out of control. I first realized something was wrong on my way to work. On the bus, several young girls kept glancing at me and whispering. I subconsciously touched my face, thinking my makeup was smudged. It wasn’t until one girl pointed at her phone screen that I heard their conversation. “That’s her, the counter girl who seduces rich men.” “Looks decent, didn’t think she was so calculating.” My blood ran cold. I opened my phone, and the social media homepage was filled with the video Mrs. Sterling uploaded. The edited clip only showed Mr. Sterling handing me the card and me taking it. The caption was in glaring large font: [Luxury Mall Vixen Seduces My Husband Right in Front of Me!] When I arrived at the mall, the store hadn’t opened yet, but people were already looking in. I recognized one as a customer who had watched the drama yesterday, now filming me with her phone. “Look, that’s the woman,” she told her companion. “She had that husband bewitched.” I walked quickly into the store, hands shaking as I turned on the lights. Stuck on the glass door was a note: [Mistress Shop, Shameless!] The manager arrived earlier than usual, frowning at the note. “Don’t worry.” He tore it off and crumpled it. “It’ll blow over.” I nodded, holding back tears. But facts proved we underestimated the power of cyberbullying. At noon, several young people rushed into the store, pretending to try clothes, but wrote insults on the fitting room walls with lipstick. In the afternoon, a middle-aged woman brought her daughter to the counter, pointing at my nose and scolding: “Women like you ruin families! My daughter is getting married soon, terrified of meeting someone like you!” The manager explained time and again, to no avail. By evening, someone threw a bag of trash into the store, foul liquid splashing onto the new spring arrivals. “I’m sorry.” Cleaning up the mess, I said to the manager. “For bringing so much trouble to the store.” The manager shook his head, not stopping his work. “Don’t overthink it. The heat will die down in a few days.” But a week passed, and the heat didn’t drop; it intensified. Mrs. Sterling’s friends took turns posting on social media. They embellished stories of how I “seduced” Mr. Sterling. Someone even dug up photos of me at other malls, captioned: [Professional Mistress, Targets Rich Men.] Even worse, influencers smelled traffic and came to investigate, recording videos at the store entrance: “Exposing how luxury sales associates seduce customers’ husbands…” Mall security added guards, but couldn’t stop the endless stream of “visitors.” The store was now almost empty of real customers, business plummeted. Colleagues’ looks went from sympathy to resentment. After all, their commissions were affected too. Friday morning, I stood before the mirror and found a few gray hairs at my temples. In just a few days, I seemed to have aged ten years. The coffee cup slipped from my fingers, shattering on the floor. Staring at the scattered pieces, I vaguely remembered Mrs. Sterling’s words— “Just you wait. I can make this store close down immediately!” Thinking about this, the doorbell rang. It was a courier. I took a small package, opened it, and froze. Inside was a photo of me in a school uniform standing at the school gate. On the back was written: [Don’t forget who you are, Lin Yi.] In that moment, my fingers trembled slightly. Lin Yi, my real name, not Sarah, the bullied salesgirl. I walked to the window, looking at the towering LIN Fashion Group headquarters in the distance. A while ago, after graduating from a fashion institute in Paris, my father wanted me to return to headquarters as Chief Designer immediately. But to better understand local consumer needs and preferences, I voluntarily applied for this market research, working as a regular sales associate in a group-owned store for a year. No one knew Sarah was Lin Yi, except for a few executives at headquarters and—the person who sent the photo. I dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time. “Hello, it’s me.” A familiar voice came from the other end. “Saw the photo?” “I saw it, thanks for the reminder.” I took a deep breath. “I want to come back.” “Finally thought it through?” He laughed. “You could have called me sooner.” “I thought I could handle it.” I looked at my tired self in the mirror. “But now the store’s sales are down, and colleagues are affected.” “That’s not your fault.” “But it is my responsibility.” I gripped the photo tightly. “I want to end this farce.” Hanging up, I took out a delicate small box, opened it, and took out a unique brooch. This was my work when I won my first design award. Pinning it to my chest, I tidied my appearance in the mirror. Time to reclaim my identity. Early the next morning, I went straight to the manager’s office and handed in my resignation. “Why?” The manager asked in surprise. “We’ll get through this.” I shook my head, fingers lightly touching the designer brooch. “Sorry, but I think I’ve gotten everything I needed.” The manager looked at me confused, gaze landing on the brooch, pupils contracting slightly: “This design… I’ve seen it in fashion magazines.” I smiled slightly, took out a business card, and handed it to him—proof of my true identity. The manager looked at the card, then at me, too shocked to speak. “Thank you for taking care of me this year.” I said sincerely: “Now, it’s time to resolve this storm.”

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1 The Covington line is thin—for generations, we’ve had only one heir. To secure the future, my father adopted three girls, decreeing: whichever bore my son would see that child inherit the entire Covington fortune. Everyone whispered the true heir would come from these three, but they only looked at me with contempt. I loved Selena for years, yet got nothing but scorn. I thought she was just cold—until I saw her in Leo, our driver’s son’s arms, vowing: “I’m only marrying him to repay the Covingtons. Once I bear the heir, I’ll divorce him and marry you. I’ll even give Ethan millions to vanish abroad if he doesn’t hurt you. You’re my only true husband.” On the eve of the annual shareholders’ meeting, my father asked for my choice. Thinking of their evasive, resentful eyes, a cold smile crossed my lips. “I’m the Covington heir—my marriage should be a highest-return transaction. I choose Felicity Thorne from the capital.” My father frowned. “Felicity Thorne? She was paralyzed in a car crash five years ago, confined to a wheelchair and unable to have children. Are you certain?” … My voice was soft, but my resolve was steel. “In our world, true love is a currency we can’t afford. Since it’s all about maximizing profit, aligning with the Thorne dynasty is the most logical choice.” My father’s expression was grave. “That may be true, but what about the three girls I chose for you? Did none of them catch your eye?” My father had loved my mother deeply, but she died of a sudden brain hemorrhage the year I was born. He couldn’t bear the thought of remarrying, but he knew I had little interest in romance and feared I would be the one to end the Covington line. On a friend’s advice, he’d adopted three orphans, all without family to their name. He’d drafted his will early: whichever one I chose would co-manage the company with me, a united front against the other board members. I looked my father in the eye. “Felicity may be in a wheelchair and unable to conceive naturally, but we can have a child through IVF and a surrogate. She is the sole heiress to the Thorne fortune. Rather than propping up an orphan to support our family, it’s far wiser to ally with a powerhouse.” He nodded slowly. “If those three couldn’t capture your heart, then there’s no reason for them to remain at Covington Corp.” If I had told him the simple truth—that I wouldn’t force myself on Selena because she didn’t love me—he would have dragged her before me, made her kneel, and demanded to know what right an adopted charity case had to refuse his son. I didn’t want him to weaponize his years of kindness against her, nor did I want to chain myself to a woman who despised me. Besides, the words I’d overheard her speak to Leo had frozen my heart solid. Letting her go peacefully was the greatest mercy I could offer. As my father left his office, he shot a sharp, appraising glance at Selena, who was waiting outside. After seeing him off with practiced deference, she turned to me, her brow creased in annoyance. “What did you tattle to him about this time?” Her eyes were filled with a familiar disgust, as if I were something vile she’d stepped in. Before I could answer, Clara, standing beside her, let out a derisive snort. “What else? The usual complaints, I’m sure. That we’re not falling all over ourselves to worship him.” Lara, the third, chimed in with a sneer. “Listen, your highness, the monarchy fell a long time ago. Do you really think your money makes you a king that everyone has to revolve around?” The three of them stood united, their words like sharpened daggers aimed at my heart. I was genuinely confused. “None of you want to marry me. Why has not one of you ever said so to my father?” While he’d hoped a relationship would blossom, he was a pragmatist, not a tyrant. The moment any of them had said no, he would have cut them a generous check and sent them on their way to a life of freedom abroad. But that would mean giving up the Covington fortune, wouldn’t it? Lara, ever the hothead, clicked her tongue impatiently. “Don’t make it sound so noble. We know what we are. We’re charity cases, the dogs you Covingtons decided to keep. What right do we have to refuse?” Selena’s face was pale with anger as she stared at me. “Fine. Choose me. Just promise you won’t make things difficult for the other two.” Lara and Clara looked at her, their expressions softening with gratitude. Seeing Selena stand there, a reluctant martyr, filled my chest with a bitter ache. Before I could speak, Leo appeared, materializing as if from thin air. The moment he saw me, he flinched and scurried behind Selena for protection. A grown man, hiding behind a woman. “He hasn’t done anything,” Selena said immediately, shielding him. “Just leave him alone today.” I looked from one to the other, bewildered. All three of them, the women who were supposed to be on my side, now formed a protective wall in front of Leo, glaring at me as if I were the villain. They saw themselves as strong, independent women and disliked my confidence, my assertiveness. Instead, they doted on Leo, a man who was my inferior in every conceivable way. I remembered when Leo first arrived at our estate five years ago. He’d given me a cheap wristwatch as a gift. I, in turn, presented him with a ten-thousand-dollar tailored suit as a welcoming present. The moment I put on the watch, Selena snatched it from my wrist. “This was a memento from Leo’s mother!” she’d snarled. “You’d even steal that from him?” I’d looked at Leo, waiting for him to explain that it was a gift, freely given. Instead, his face crumpled, and he dropped to his knees. “Mr. Covington didn’t steal it! I gave it to him willingly!” he cried, his voice thick with false tears. “He’s been so kind to me, he even gave me this suit. I’m not upset, really.” He started banging his head on the marble floor. The sight made the three girls’ eyes turn red, reminding them of their own dependent status. They rounded on me, filled with righteous fury. “Just because you’re Ethan Covington doesn’t give you the right to force someone to give you their mother’s last gift!” “That watch may not be expensive, but its sentimental value is worth more than any suit! Give it back to him, now!” “You’re always the same. So selfish. You only care about what you want.” My face hardened, but I told myself it was a misunderstanding, something we could clear up later. Swallowing my anger, I held the watch out to Leo. As he reached for it, his hand “slipped.” The watch fell to the floor, shattering. He stared at the broken pieces, then looked up at me, his eyes blazing with manufactured rage. “If you were just going to destroy it, why pretend to give it back?” Selena, ever the champion of the oppressed, turned on me with an icy threat. “Apologize to Leo. Right now. Or don’t expect me to ever marry you.” I had confessed my feelings to her by then, told her she was the only one I could ever imagine marrying. She used that confession as a weapon, forcing me to bow to Leo. I was younger then, terrified of losing her, too afraid to risk defending myself. So I lowered my head, my eyes burning with shame, and apologized. That single apology became a five-year sentence. From that day on, whenever Leo saw me, he’d react like a mouse seeing a cat, either collapsing to his knees or bursting into tears. And I hadn’t done a single thing. My face was a cold mask as I looked at Selena now. “If you’re that worried about me ‘bullying’ Leo, perhaps you should keep him on a leash.” My words were dripping with sarcasm, but she took them literally. “Is that a threat? What are you planning to do to him?” Lara clapped her hands together. “I know what this is about! It’s because we gave the Celestial Deep to Leo, isn’t it? You’re going to use that as an excuse to hurt him!” Clara’s gaze was glacial. “You have everything. Leo’s never even had a proper birthday celebration. It’s just an aquarium. Is it really worth making such a scene over?” My blood ran cold. “The Celestial Deep?” The Celestial Deep was a state-of-the-art private underground aquarium, a project started the year I was born. Its main feature was a wall of flawless imperial jade, which, when viewed through the shimmering water, created the illusion of a vast, cosmic nebula. It was finally completed six months ago, and my father had entrusted Selena with the finishing touches. It was meant to be my gift, presented to me at my birthday gala in a month. And now, my gift belonged to Leo. My eyes locked onto Selena. She was in charge of the project. No one could have gotten inside without her approval. She flinched under my gaze, turning her head away with a flash of guilt and anger. “Leo grew up poor, working just to survive. He’s never really seen a starry sky. I just wanted to grant him one small wish. Besides,” she added defensively, “the ownership is still in your name, isn’t it?” “Stop being so difficult. Fine. At your birthday party, I’ll announce our engagement. Will that make you happy?” She looked at me as if she were bestowing a great charity, and for a moment, I felt like I was the orphan in this house. But no one else seemed to find her attitude strange. In fact, they all looked at her with pity, as if she were the one making a great sacrifice. “Why do you have to do that for him? Marrying Ethan, with his cruel, arrogant nature? You’d be better off becoming a nun.” “I bet he’s thrilled. He’s finally getting what he’s wanted for years.” “Selena, please don’t throw your life away for my sake!” Leo wailed, ever the performer. “I’ll kneel, I’ll beg him, I’ll be his slave, whatever it takes…” My throat was dry. “I’m not going to marry you,” I said, the words tasting like ash. Selena’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. Lara and Clara exchanged nervous glances, suddenly terrified I might choose one of them instead. Being so thoroughly rejected by the three people I’d grown up with… if I didn’t leave right then, I was afraid of what I might do. I turned to go, but Leo grabbed my wrist. His eyes were red, his expression one of profound humiliation as he, once again, dropped to his knees. “Please, don’t take this out on Selena. They’re all adopted by your family, they’re already seen as lesser. If you’re angry that they gave me the Celestial Deep and you’re going to tell your father, I’m the one you should punish. I’ll apologize.” He started banging his head on the floor again, harder this time, until a raw, red mark appeared on his forehead. Selena rushed to help him up, her heart aching for him. She turned to me, her eyes blazing with fury. “You say you won’t marry me, but let’s see you stick to that! Using these cheap tricks to torment Leo, what does that prove?! You’re just trying to find an excuse to run to your father and get him thrown out!” I looked at her, my expression unreadable. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But rest assured, I will not choose you as my wife.” I thought that would be the end of it, but she grabbed my arm. “If not me, then who? Clara? Or Lara?” “Lara is passionate about art; she wants to study abroad. Clara craves freedom. Isn’t it enough that you’ve ruined my life? Do you have to ruin theirs, too?” She took a deep breath, her voice softening into a weary plea. “If you promise to leave Leo alone from now on, I’ll marry you. Just stop this, please?” Her eyes were filled with exhaustion, as if I had been torturing her for years. I looked at her, really looked at her, for a long moment. “Everything,” I said softly, “will be exactly as you wish.” She was so afraid I would hurt Leo, and she so desperately didn’t want to be my wife. When I married Felicity Thorne, all her problems would be solved. I didn’t see her again until the night of my birthday gala. She appeared with Clara and Lara in tow, her face a thundercloud. I frowned at my assistant. I had specifically told him not to invite them, that the announcement had nothing to do with them. He just shook his head frantically, mouthing, I don’t know, they just showed up! I sighed and decided to ignore them. The other guests, however, were not so circumspect. “Miss Selena, you’re a true prodigy! That deal you closed last month must have brought in millions. No wonder Mr. Covington is so devoted to you.” I closed that deal. Selena just signed the papers. “Miss Lara, you may have a temper, but you have a strong sense of justice. Mr. Covington would be lucky to have you.” I scoffed internally. Lara was the one who bullied me the most, treating me like a venomous snake she wanted to crush. “And Miss Clara, so elegant and capable. Mr. Covington couldn’t go wrong choosing you.” The three of them moved through my party as if they were the hosts. I was about to put a stop to the charade when all three of them simultaneously looked down at their phones. Before I could react, Lara’s face contorted with rage. She stormed towards me and slapped me hard across the face. The blow sent my head spinning, and I nearly stumbled. A shocked silence fell over the room as guests scrambled to get out of the way. Selena clenched her fists, stopping Lara from hitting me again. She turned to me, her teeth gritted. “We’re already here, on display like items in a shop for you to choose from. What more do you want? Do you have to drive Leo to his death?” I had no idea what she was talking about. Seeing my confusion, Clara’s lip curled in disgust. “You waited until none of us were around and had him kidnapped. Let me tell you, you won’t get what you want!” Her words hit me like a physical blow. Leo had played another one of his games. The guests were all my father’s friends and business partners, yet not a single one of them moved to intervene as I stood there, humiliated. In that moment, I understood. They didn’t believe the Covington fortune would ever truly be mine. They didn’t dare cross the three women they saw as the future matriarchs. I cradled my stinging cheek, my eyes cold as ice. “Apologize.” Lara glanced at my reddened eyes and sneered. “Leo was nearly beaten to death. You got one little slap. What’s there to cry about?” “I’m… I’m okay…” A new voice cut through the tension. Leo limped into the room, his clothes torn, his face a mess of bruises. He looked like he’d been through hell. Selena rushed to his side, draping her own jacket over his shoulders. She looked back at me with utter revulsion. “You truly are the most manipulative person I have ever met. I would never, ever marry a man like you.” Clara, usually so quiet, stepped in front of Leo. “Your family line is so weak you need to use women as broodmares. You brought the three of us here to be your tools. We accepted our fate, but even that wasn’t enough for you. Fine. There’s no need to keep up this pretense of peace.” She turned and walked away without a backward glance, showing zero regard for the Covington family’s reputation. As she left, Selena threw one last, arrogant remark over her shoulder. “I will marry you. But after the child is born, you will be nothing more than a figurehead. If you want my son to protect this family’s empire, you will learn to stay in your place.” I laughed. Had they forgotten? Without me, they would still be in an orphanage. As they made for the exit, a few guests finally moved to stop them. But I roared, my voice cracking like a whip, “Let them go!” Leo shot me a triumphant, mocking glance over his shoulder, as if he’d just conquered the world. I stood there, silent, until my assistant whispered frantically, “Sir, what do we do now? They’re all gone. Who will you choose?” The guests were murmuring amongst themselves. “The Covingtons need an heir. If the three women who know him best want nothing to do with him, who could he possibly marry?” I almost laughed out loud. As if they were the only three women in the world. Smiling, I raised my glass of wine. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. As you know, tonight is not just my birthday celebration. It is also my engagement party.” On the massive screen behind me, a face appeared—cold, stunningly beautiful, and utterly imperious. A collective gasp went through the crowd. “Isn’t that… Felicity Thorne of the capital?!”

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My husband’s death was ruled an accidental drowning. As I was sorting through his belongings, a copy of a property deed fell out from between the pages of a journal. When I pushed open the door to that house, I froze. The interior was cozy and romantic. The expensive furniture, plush carpets, and crystal chandelier glittered even under a layer of dust, unable to hide their opulence. Compared to our cramped, rundown apartment, it was another world. Hanging on the wall was a happy family portrait: him, his first love, and a pair of twin children. On the desk lay a suicide note in a messy scrawl: [Julianna, after you left, every day has been a living hell, an agony I can’t bear. Now that Mom is gone and the children are grown, I have nothing left to tie me to this world. I’m coming to find you, to continue our love story on the other side!] My legs gave out from under me. I practically had to crawl my way out of that room. In that moment, all I wanted to do was dig up his grave. But the rage and grief overwhelmed me. A sweet, metallic taste filled my throat, and after spitting out a mouthful of blood, my world went black. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the tenth year of our marriage. 1 When the police called to inform me that my husband Eddy’s body had been found in the West Hill Reservoir, I was still at the office, burning the midnight oil to deal with a client’s last-minute design changes. Over forty, hormones a mess, and still slaving away like a workhorse after 10 p.m. My resentment was already at an all-time high. So when I heard the news, my first thought was that it was a scam. “Go to hell,” I snarled into the phone. “I hope all you scammers die.” The officer on the other end didn’t get angry. In a calm, professional voice, he rattled off his badge number and the station’s address. He explained that some night fishermen had found my husband’s body and that his ID was in his wallet. He asked me to come to the scene as soon as possible. Half-believing, I hung up. On the drive to the reservoir, I tried calling Eddy over and over, but his phone went straight to voicemail. Forty minutes later, I arrived at the location the police had given me. The night was pitch black. The sound of the reservoir’s current and the cries of unseen animals were bone-chilling. I stumbled through the uneven terrain, my feet sinking into the soft earth, running towards the only cluster of light in the darkness. And there, I saw him. A man, lying stiff and straight on the riverbank. He was wearing the white shirt and black trousers he always wore, now stained with mud and grime. His shoes were gone, his bare feet crisscrossed with cuts. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth. When I saw his face, I froze, as if struck by lightning. It really was him. My husband, Eddy. 2 After a thorough investigation, an autopsy, and a review of the security footage from near the reservoir, the police ruled out foul play. The medical examiner found alcohol in his system, and the official cause of death was accidental drowning while intoxicated. Our children flew back from overseas as soon as they heard the news. I was so consumed by grief that my blood pressure spiked, causing me to faint several times. I ended up in the ICU. My son and daughter handled all of their father’s funeral arrangements. By the time I was discharged, Eddy had already been buried. It wasn’t until the children took me to his gravesite that I realized, to my horror, that they had buried him in a joint plot with their biological mother, Julianna. But they had been divorced for over twenty years… I stared blankly at my children standing beside me. My daughter, Lily, spoke in a flat voice. “It’s what Dad wanted.” She pulled a document from her bag and handed it to me. “This is the will Dad wrote. The lawyer gave it to me and my brother when we got back. You should read it too.” My hands trembled as I took it. Just as Lily had said, the will stipulated that he was to be buried with Julianna. Lily continued, her voice devoid of emotion. “The last page is about the assets. The death beneficiaries for all of Dad’s insurance policies are me and Leo. His mutual funds and stocks were purchased before he married you, so they’re considered his personal assets. He left those to us as well.” “As for the old apartment…” Lily paused. “Dad left you your 50% share, but you’ll have to pay us the market value for his half. Of course, you could also sell the place and give me and Leo half the money.” Leo, who had been silent the whole time, finally looked at me. His expression held a flicker of guilt, and his lips trembled slightly. “Mom, Lily and I got our green cards. After we settle things here, we won’t be coming back. You need to take care of yourself.” I looked at the two children I had raised for twenty years, a wave of disbelief washing over me. I didn’t even realize when the tears had started to fall. A lump of pain formed in my throat, my voice so hoarse it was almost a whisper. “How… how could you do this to me?” I had been married to Eddy for twenty years. I had been a stepmother to Leo and Lily since they were barely five years old. I loved my husband, stood by him through thick and thin. I cared for his children with all my heart. I respected his parents, did everything a daughter-in-law should. And in the end… They had schemed against me until I had nothing left. 3 I stumbled back to our apartment, my body feeling heavy and weak. Everything inside was just as Eddy had left it. We had lived in this apartment for nearly twenty years. I had bought this second-hand place the year after we got married, using the dowry my parents had given me. The building was over thirty years old, rundown and shabby. It was less than eight hundred square feet. At one point, five of us, including my mother-in-law, had been crammed into this tiny space. For years, I had scrimped and saved. To send Leo and Lily to study abroad, to pay for my mother-in-law’s dialysis treatments for her chronic kidney failure. I always told myself, things will get better. It will all be okay. But now I realized I was nothing more than a tool for their family. My eyes were vacant, lifeless pools as I moved like an automaton, gathering Eddy’s belongings, intending to throw them all out. As I cleared out his closet, I found a journal tucked away at the very bottom, beneath a pile of old clothes. Inside, I found a yellowed piece of paper. It was a copy of a property deed. The owner was Eddy Scott. I went to the address on the deed. After verifying my ID, a locksmith opened the door for me. The moment I stepped inside, I was utterly stunned. This was clearly Eddy and Julianna’s love nest. The walls were covered with photos of them with their children. The decor was warm and romantic. The expensive furniture, the luxurious carpets, the crystal chandelier that sparkled even under a layer of dust. Compared to our cramped, rundown apartment, it was another world entirely. I moved with heavy steps toward the master bedroom. The room was enormous, with a walk-in closet, a vanity, a king-sized bed, and a spacious, sunlit bay window. The clothes in the closet were all designer, neatly organized. Next door was Eddy’s study. The sight that greeted me there was a dagger to the heart. The walls were a chronicle of their family’s happy memories—from the children’s elementary school days to their college years, they had traveled the world together. All the places I had dreamed of going but never dared to spend the money on. I collapsed into the chair at the desk. On the desk lay a single sheet of paper with a line of writing: [Julianna, in the two years since you passed away from your illness, I have been living in torment, every day an agony. My duty to my mother is now done, and the children are grown. I have nothing left to tie me to this world. I pray we can be reunited in the afterlife, to continue our love story.] … It wasn’t an accidental drowning while drunk. It was a suicide, to be with her. I tore the note to shreds, a primal scream of rage building in my chest. 4 I don’t know how long I sat there. Finally, I pushed myself up, my knees aching. I staggered out of the room. All I wanted in that moment was to find Eddy’s grave and dig it up with my bare hands. But the overwhelming grief and rage crashed through my body. A mouthful of blood surged up my throat. My vision went black, and I fell backward, into the darkness. 5 When I opened my eyes again, I was sitting at a table laden with food, surrounded by a cacophony of noise. The clatter of dishes, the murmur of conversation—it all washed over me like a tidal wave. It took me a moment to remember where I was. This was the celebration dinner after Leo and Lily had finished their end-of-middle-school exams. Both of them had been accepted into the city’s top high school. They had received full scholarships for all three years, plus a six-thousand-dollar academic prize each. At this moment, Eddy was leading the children from table to table, accepting congratulations from friends and family. Everyone was praising him, the university professor, for raising such brilliant children. Julianna, sitting next to my mother-in-law, was beaming, her face glowing with pride as if she were the guest of honor. I picked up the glass of red wine in front of me and downed it in one gulp. The cool, slightly tart liquid slid down my throat, a sharp reminder that this was not a dream. As I was trying to get my bearings, a sharp, whiny voice cut through the noise. “Nora, you really are the lucky one. After a scandal like yours, you still managed to land a great husband like Eddy. No uterus, so you didn’t have to go through the pain of childbirth, and you got a pair of perfect kids for free. Some people have all the luck.” I looked up. The speaker was Kate, a former classmate of Eddy’s from university, two years his junior. She now worked at the same university as him, also a philosophy professor. Her voice was loud. Many people had heard her. Julianna raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips as she looked over, clearly anticipating a show. Kate clucked her tongue. “How did you get so lucky? I heard ten years ago your father was practically trying to pay someone to marry you, offering a whole apartment as a dowry. Who would have thought Eddy would have such bad taste? So many women were after him, and he chose you. There’s just no justice in the world.” I looked at her face, slightly twisted with jealousy, and felt a strange mix of amusement and pity. I knew she had harbored a crush on Eddy for years, only to be beaten to the punch by her supposed best friend, Julianna. By the time she found out, Julianna was already two months pregnant. Their friendship ended on the spot. Later, a heartbroken Kate had married someone else. Not long after her wedding, Julianna had abruptly divorced Eddy, abandoned her children, and moved abroad. 6 Kate had never quite gotten over not marrying Eddy. So she always targeted me, constantly picking at my old wounds. In the past, I had been ashamed of what had happened to me, so I would always just lower my head and endure it. She had said these exact same words in my past life, and I had let them slide. It was my children’s celebration, their teachers and friends were here, along with Eddy’s colleagues. I didn’t want to make a scene. But now, none of that mattered. Slam. I slapped my chopsticks down on the table. “You’re right, I am lucky!” I shot back, my voice loud and clear. “You’re jealous I married Eddy, aren’t you? How about I give you this ‘luck’? Fulfill that little decade-long crush of yours. Then maybe you’ll stop buzzing around me every five minutes, whispering about how I don’t deserve him.” Kate’s face went white. She shot a panicked look toward her husband. “Nora, are you insane? What are you talking about?” I sneered. “Am I? What about all those flirty texts you send him? The way you hang all over him, batting your eyelashes? Do you think I’m blind? Every time, you just have to bring up my assault, don’t you? Just to humiliate me.” “Yes, I was assaulted! I was beaten so badly they had to remove my uterus! But even then, it was your precious Eddy who came chasing after me. If you have a problem with it, take it up with him!” Heads turned in our direction. Kate’s husband was staring at her, his eyes dark. Eddy rushed over, his face a mask of fury. He shot a glare at Kate, then grabbed my arm, hissing, “What are you doing? This is a special occasion! Why are you bringing up all this old baggage in front of everyone?” I yanked my arm away, my face cold. “What did I say? She’s the one who starts it every single time. Are you blind?” Kate’s husband walked over, his face grim. He pulled his wife up from her chair and forced a tense smile at us. “Nora, Professor Scott, I’m so sorry. I just got an urgent call from work. We have to go. We’ll come by and visit properly some other time.” Without another word, he dragged a protesting Kate out of the hall. 7 The noisy banquet hall fell into an awkward silence. The looks on people’s faces were a complex mixture of pity, curiosity, and judgment. Julianna, who had been enjoying the show, now stood up. She moved to stand beside Eddy, a faint, mocking smile on her face as she looked at me. But when she spoke, her voice was soft and gentle, a sweet, chiding tone. “Nora, nobody is judging you for what happened in your past, but you don’t have to broadcast it for everyone to hear, do you? You’re Eddy’s wife now. When you say those things, think about how it makes him look.” “And even if you don’t care about Eddy, Leo and Lily still call you ‘Mom.’ How do you expect them to face their classmates after this?” I followed her gaze to where Leo and Lily were standing a short distance away. Leo’s hands were clenched into fists, his eyes red with fury. Lily’s eyes were filled with tears, her expression a mixture of hatred and disgust. I remembered them at the gravesite, waving Eddy’s will in my face, urging me to sell the apartment and give them their share. I let out a cold snort. “Their biological mother isn’t dead. What right do I have to be their mother?” “When their real mother finally kicks the bucket, then we’ll talk.” “You—” Julianna was speechless, her face flushing a deep red. Her watery eyes pleaded for help from Eddy. A flicker of cold fury passed through Eddy’s eyes. He grabbed my arm again, his grip so tight I thought my bones would snap. He hissed, his voice low and dangerous, “Nora, that’s enough. Don’t make this any more embarrassing for everyone. If you want to throw a fit, do it at home.” 8 I looked up, straight into his eyes, and a wave of pure, unadulterated hatred washed over me. Sensing the tension, a few friends came over to play peacemaker. “Professor Scott, come on, we were just about to ask you for some parenting tips. My kid is failing half his classes. You have to tell us your secret…” Soon, the hall was filled with noise again. I sat back down, my expression like ice. A dull ache spread through my chest. I poured myself another glass of wine and drank it down. I knew the smartest thing to do was to divorce Eddy, escape this family of parasites, and start a new life. But they had deceived me for my entire adult life. How could I just let go of all this hatred? 9 After the party, when everyone had left, it was just me and Eddy’s perfect little family of four. My mother-in-law’s raspy voice cut through the silence. “Nora, if you have no shame, we do. Are you trying to make sure everyone in the world knows about your sordid past?” “Do you think that’s something to be proud of? With your reputation, and the fact that you can’t even have children, I wouldn’t have approved of you even if it was your first marriage.” “Someone like you, damaged goods, you’re not worthy of my son.” “Mom!” Eddy cut her off sharply. “I told you not to bring up the past again. Why are you starting?” I looked at my mother-in-law. She was healthy, full of vigor. At this point in time, she hadn’t yet been diagnosed with chronic kidney failure. She didn’t need to suck up to me, to sweet-talk me into paying for her dialysis and driving her to the hospital every week. In my past life, after her diagnosis, I had taken care of her for nearly eight years. Every Saturday, without fail, I would take her for her treatment. I cooked her special low-protein, low-sodium meals. She had died peacefully in the hospital two months before Eddy’s suicide. The line in his note, “My duty to my mother is now done,” was a duty I had fulfilled for him. I let out a cold laugh. “If I hadn’t been injured and had my uterus removed, do you think I would have even looked twice at Eddy?” “Do you think your son is such a great catch? His professorship was a sham. If my father hadn’t pulled every string he had to get him a recommendation, he’d still be struggling as a lecturer.” “Don’t you dare act like you’re saints when you’re nothing but a bunch of hypocrites.” My words hung in the air, creating a sudden, tense silence. My mother-in-law, clearly not expecting me to fight back so directly, turned a shade of purple, her body trembling with rage. 10 Standing beside her, Eddy, having been hit where it hurt, roared, “What is wrong with you today? Just because Kate said a few words, you have to go crazy?” Lily shrieked, “This was supposed to be my and my brother’s celebration! Why did you have to talk about being assaulted? How am I supposed to face my classmates now? Why do you always have to ruin everything?” I took a deep breath, trying to suppress the volcano of rage about to erupt inside me. “You’re right! I am crazy! What are you going to do about it?” I turned to Lily. “And who cares if you can face your classmates or not? I haven’t complained about how ugly and short you are, with your upturned nostrils, embarrassing me in front of my colleagues!” Lily was, admittedly, not conventionally attractive. Though she and Leo were twins, Leo resembled their beautiful mother, while Lily was the spitting image of their grandmother. Lily froze for a second, then completely broke down. She let out a loud wail and ran out of the banquet hall, crying. I had no desire to waste any more words on them. I grabbed my bag and walked out. 11 Outside the hotel, the sky was completely dark. The summer night air, though cool, still felt sticky against my skin. I kicked a loose stone on the sidewalk, my mind a chaotic mess. Memories of what had happened to me resurfaced, and the feeling of drowning returned. I had been assaulted. It was during my senior year of college, during my internship. I was walking home from a late shift when someone dragged me into a dark alley. Security wasn’t as good back then. There were no cameras in those narrow backstreets. He clamped a hand over my mouth. I fought back with everything I had. In the struggle, I managed to land a hard kick to his groin. That only enraged him. He threw me to the ground, but when he tried to assault me, he found he was unable to. Frustrated and angry, he pulled up his pants and began kicking my abdomen, over and over. Then he left me, like a discarded rag, by a dumpster. My parents searched for me all night. When the doctor told them my uterus had ruptured and my bladder was damaged, that they had to perform a hysterectomy to save my life, my mother fainted on the spot. My father’s hair seemed to turn white overnight. The man was sentenced to ten years in prison, but the damage he did to me was permanent. I had to use a catheter for three months. I underwent a full year of therapy before I could even begin to function again. After that, I was filled with self-loathing, insecurity, and shame. I didn’t dare to date, convinced I wasn’t worthy of anyone. Until I met Eddy. He was like a light in my dark, empty life. I thought he was my savior, my beacon. That’s why I poured everything I had into our marriage. Even when his mother was cruel, even when my stepchildren, influenced by their grandmother and their mother, were hostile and resentful, I cherished our marriage. I never imagined that he was Satan, hiding behind a mask of light. Another hand, pulling me down into the abyss. He had utterly destroyed me, turning all our beautiful memories into daggers that he used to stab me, over and over. 12 It was almost midnight by the time I got home. The apartment was dark. They were probably all asleep. I heard a rustling sound from the balcony, an eerie noise in the dead of night. I turned on the light and went to investigate. There, I saw a narrow-mouthed bamboo basket, covered with a fine-mesh bag. The rustling was coming from inside. The scene was chillingly familiar. The hairs on my arms stood on end. It was full of venomous snakes. In my past life, after Leo and Lily’s exam results came out, my mother-in-law insisted it was because her prayers had been answered. She had somehow acquired over a dozen venomous snakes, planning to take the children to the mountains to release them for good karma. When I found out, I tried to stop her, telling her to release some fish instead if she was so determined. She told me that you couldn’t eat an animal you had released for karma. She still wanted to eat fish, but she certainly wasn’t going to eat venomous snakes. Seeing that it was useless to argue with her, I waited until she had gone for her morning walk in the park, then took the basket of snakes to a wildlife rescue center. The staff there were horrified when they opened the bag. They were all highly venomous silver-banded kraits. Because kraits are a protected species, the staff immediately called the police. I was subjected to an hour-long lecture and had to sign a statement promising never to illegally buy or sell wildlife again. My mother-in-law threw a massive tantrum, accusing me of ruining her spiritual cultivation. I turned and walked back into the living room. This time, I had no intention of interfering. 13 The next morning, my mother-in-law returned with breakfast and immediately started giving orders. “Eddy, go wake up Leo and Lily. We have to go to the mountains to release the animals after we eat.” Eddy rubbed his temples, annoyed. “Mom, can you please not involve the kids in your superstitious nonsense?” She shot him a glare. “What do you know? If I hadn’t prayed for you back then, do you think you would have gotten into university? And the kids’ good exam results? That was all my doing.” Seeing that it was pointless to argue, Eddy just frowned and went to wake the children. When the kids were at the table, my mother-in-law started handing out breakfast. There was nothing for me. I didn’t care. I went to my room, grabbed my ID, our marriage certificate, and the household registration book, and slammed the door on my way out. I took a taxi straight to the property registration office. Just as I suspected. A 2,500-square-foot property was registered under Eddy’s name. The registration date was three years ago, the same year Julianna had returned to the country. The mortgage had been cleared just two months ago. He must have paid it off early. I had the staff stamp the inquiry form. On my way to the office, I couldn’t stop thinking. A man as meticulous as Eddy, how could he have been so careless as to leave a property registered in his name? In my past life, all I had seen was a photocopy of the deed. This was a man who had only named his own children as beneficiaries on his insurance policies, who had schemed to take my half of the apartment I had paid for. How could he have willingly let me get half of this house, which was already worth millions? 14 Just after our weekly meeting, the phone in my office rang. I put it on speaker. Leo’s panicked, crying voice came through the line. “Mom! Mom, you have to come quick! Grandma got bit by a snake when we were releasing them. She passed out from the pain, and I can’t move her! We’re on the south side of the mountain, halfway up. You know the place, we had a picnic there last time we went hiking. By the big rock.” “Dad’s not answering his phone. Mom, I’m so scared, the snakes are crawling everywhere… Please, come save me!” “Ah! Get away from me! Don’t come over here!” Leo’s terrified screams echoed in my office. “Mom, did you hear me? Can you please hurry?” his cries started again. My hand instinctively reached for my phone to call 911. But just as my finger was about to press the button, I paused. I slowly put the phone down. If my mother-in-law’s gods could grant her grandchildren good grades, surely they could keep them safe. I spoke into the phone. “Leo, honey, I’m out of town on a business trip. You need to call your dad or 911.” There was a three-second silence on the other end. “Mom, I’m calling your office landline.” Oops. “I mean, I’m about to leave for my trip. The taxi is waiting downstairs. I have to go, I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up. Then, I turned off my cell phone.

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Orientation week, day one. Ryder, the guy who’d been holding court since the moment he stepped into the dorm, proposed a trip to the new luxury retail complex downtown. An all-you-can-carry shopping spree, on him. La Mer sunscreen that cost more than a month’s rent, Dior bags, imported snacks from a gourmet market—all of it, his treat. The room erupted in cheers. I, however, quietly slipped my own black card into the military-grade safe under my bunk. I’d learned my lesson. In another life, Ryder’s phone had brushed against my card for a split second. In that instant, five million dollars vanished from my account. The exact amount our classmates had just spent. 1 When I confronted him, he filmed my desperate confusion and posted it online. “I don’t have your face ID, man. I don’t have your fingerprint. How could I spend your money?” he’d said to his phone’s camera, feigning innocence. Then, turning on the crocodile tears, “I just wanted to do something nice for everyone, a welcome gift, and this is how I’m repaid?” The clip went viral. The internet turned on me, a vicious, anonymous mob. I was cornered, with nowhere to go. The day I was finally going to the police, I took a sip of water. It was laced with something sharp, chemical. A seizure tore through me, and then, nothing. When I opened my eyes again, I was back here. Back on the day it all began, with Ryder proclaiming his magnificent generosity. “Alright everyone, listen up! Orientation is a grind, I get it. So I decided we all deserve a little something,” Ryder announced, his voice booming across the common room, no microphone needed. “We’re heading to the mall for some welcome gifts. My treat. Who’s in?” Looking at that same triumphant smirk, the full, gut-wrenching realization hit me. I was back. Reborn. The familiar words ignited a cold fire of hatred in my chest. At first, most of the other freshmen ignored him, skeptical of his vague promise of a “little something.” Then he cleared his throat and brandished a sleek, black credit card. “Think Louis Vuitton, everyone. Top-shelf sunscreen. And when we’re tired, I’ll treat you all to a day at the Aethelgard Wellness Retreat. How does that sound?” The Aethelgard was the most exclusive, most ridiculously expensive spa in the entire state. A single day pass cost $12,888. The room exploded. The change in tone was instant. People were practically fawning over him. “Holy shit, Ryder! You’re loaded. Dude, I’ll be your personal assistant for a day like that.” “A treat from the king himself? You couldn’t drag me away.” I watched the scene unfold, a bitter, knowing sneer playing on my lips. In my last life, I’d gone with them. They’d shopped like wild animals, each one racking up a bill of over a hundred thousand dollars. When it came time to pay, Ryder had made a show of patting his pockets, a look of panic on his face. He’d claimed his card was gone, and then his eyes landed on me. Every card has a unique number. To clear my name, I showed him mine. He just needed to see it wasn’t his. He’d glanced at it, then given it back, his face a mask of apology. “My bad, man. Guess I was mistaken.” Then, miraculously, he found his own card in another pocket and paid for everything. The moment the transaction went through, my phone buzzed. Five million dollars, gone. The exact total of everyone’s purchases. With no itemized receipt in my name, only a transaction record, there was nothing I could do. I was screwed. Still, I confronted him. He secretly recorded the entire thing, turning my frantic accusations into a viral video that painted me as an ungrateful lunatic. “I literally just glanced at your card, and you’re saying I stole from you?” he’d pleaded to his online audience. “Family, you be the judge. I buy this guy a hundred grand worth of stuff, and he turns around and accuses me of being a thief! Can you believe the nerve?” The others, bought and paid for, all backed his story. A guy who drops a hundred grand on each of his new classmates? The internet ate it up. They were drowning in jealousy. Ryder became a minor influencer overnight, a rich-kid icon, raking in donations and sponsorships. And me? Just as I was about to file a police report, I drank that bottle of water and my world went black. Ryder had then forged a purchase history for poison under my name, sealing the narrative that I’d killed myself out of shame. “Man, I was just telling the truth,” he’d said in a somber livestream, shaking his head. “I can’t believe he took it so hard. It’s all my fault. I never should have posted that video.” My soul, or whatever was left of it, had hovered there, watching his sickeningly fake performance. It was enough to make me gag. And Ashley, the girl I’d had a crush on for three years in high school, had thrown herself right into his arms. “It’s not your fault, Ryder,” she’d cooed. “Ethan was always so uptight and cheap. He got what he deserved.” Watching them together, my spectral teeth had ground to dust. Lost in the memory, I didn’t hear Ryder calling my name until a sharp slap on my back jolted me back to the present. “Ethan, you’re coming, right?” “Yeah, everyone’s going. If you don’t come, it’s like you’re dissing me, man,” Ashley chimed in, grabbing my arm. “Ethan, you were such a loner in high school. This is college now. Ryder is being genuinely nice to us. Just come!” I subtly pulled my arm away from her touch, a slow smile spreading across my face. “Of course, I’m coming.” How else was I going to watch him crash and burn? The debt from my last life? This time, he was going to pay it back. In blood. 2 That afternoon, I took a ride home. I placed the black card my parents had given me into a military-grade, biometric safe. The kind of thing that could take a stray bullet and not even dent. My iris was the only key. Cracking it would be harder than breaking into Fort Knox. Once the real card was secure, I took out the replica I’d had made. It was a perfect copy, visually indistinguishable from the real thing. But it was just a piece of plastic. It couldn’t withdraw a dime, couldn’t even accept a deposit. It was a dud. Just as I finished, my phone buzzed. It was Ryder, for the third time. “Ethan, where are you, man? Everyone’s waiting for you!” Then his voice dropped. “Ashley says if you don’t show, she’s done with you.” Hearing him use her first name so casually didn’t stir a single thing in me. Not anymore. In high school, I really had been hung up on Ashley for three years. I’d even applied to the same universities as her. But she’d never said yes, and never said no. A classic string-along. That’s why seeing her leap into Ryder’s arms in my past life was a sickening kind of clarity. She wasn’t unavailable; she was just fishing for the highest bidder. It was Ashley who had insisted I go on that shopping trip last time. I’d caved, wanting to be near her, and Ryder had used it to set his trap. That poisoned water? I later learned she had been the one to mix it, a twisted gesture to prove her loyalty to Ryder. A woman that hollow didn’t deserve a second thought. The frantic voice on the phone was still buzzing. I mumbled an affirmation and had my driver drop me at the mall. When Ryder saw the car, a sleek, custom Maybach, his eyes widened, a flash of pure greed in them. But he quickly masked it, throwing an arm over my shoulder like we were best buds. “There he is! We were about to send out a search party. Come on.” The other students, seeing me finally arrive, didn’t bother hiding their annoyance. “What took you so long, Ethan? Did you really have to make every single one of us wait?” “Who do you think you are, making us waste our time?” I scanned their faces impassively, my gaze finally landing on Ashley. Her pretty features were twisted into a look of impatience. “And you showed up in that? It looks like you got it from a thrift store. You could have at least tried.” I glanced down at my outfit, a simple athletic set. The t-shirt alone, a private commission from a top designer, was worth fifty thousand dollars. The fabric was a proprietary blend, cool and comfortable even in the sweltering late-summer heat. A contemptuous laugh escaped my lips. “You wouldn’t recognize quality if it slapped you in the face. This shirt alone could buy your life.” My words were sharp, and they hit their mark. Ashley’s eyes instantly welled with tears. Ryder stepped in, playing the peacemaker. “Hey, hey, come on. We’re all classmates here. No need for things to get ugly.” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s go pick out some gifts! Anything under a hundred grand is fair game!” A chorus of cheers erupted. “Ryder, you’re the man!” “Yeah, not like some people who pretend to be rich but are just faking it. So pathetic.” I knew they were talking about me, but I just smiled as I watched them stampede into the designer stores. The show was just beginning. I was dying to see how Ryder would handle the final act without my money. 3 Ashley trailed behind Ryder, her voice syrupy sweet. “Is there anything you want, Ryder?” He feigned surprise, then gave her a lecherous grin. “Just having you here with me is the best gift I could ask for.” He took her hand, basking in the fawning attention of our classmates, his face flushed with triumph. Noticing I hadn’t moved, Ryder called out, “Ethan, get in there! Go pick something out. Don’t be shy.” His magnanimity, contrasted with my cold silence, was stark. Immediately, someone jumped to his defense. “Ethan! If you don’t want a gift, you didn’t have to come!” “Ryder’s being so generous, and you’re giving him this attitude? What an ungrateful jerk.” “Don’t think renting a fancy car makes you a somebody. You might have the attitude of a rich kid, but you sure don’t have the bank account.” As the insults grew louder, I paused, making a show of turning to leave. Ryder panicked. He grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly tight. “Guys, don’t talk to Ethan like that! He’s my friend.” His voice trembled slightly. He was clearly terrified. Terrified that his golden goose was about to walk away. But I wasn’t really leaving. If I left, I’d miss the grand finale. “Alright, Ryder. I’ll go pick something out then.” He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Yeah, man, go for it. Get whatever you want, seriously. Don’t hold back on my account.” I followed his suggestion and picked out a simple men’s backpack. A basic model I would never have considered in my real life. Most of the others had already made their selections. At Ryder’s urging, Ashley had chosen an entire set of diamond jewelry. The brilliant stones glittered under the showroom lights. I recognized it as the latest collection from Cartier. The whole set had to be at least a million dollars. Ryder didn’t even blink. “Get it,” he said, puffing out his chest. “If Ashley likes it, I’d buy her ten sets.” She rewarded him with a grateful kiss on the corner of his mouth. The surrounding students hooted and cheered. Even the sales associate was laying it on thick. “Mr. Ryder, you are truly generous. A million-dollar gift, just like that.” Someone from the crowd immediately piled on. “Yeah, I heard some guys chased Ashley for three years and never even bought her a ten-thousand-dollar gift. So cheap.” “Seriously. Broke guys should stay away from gorgeous women. He’s not even worthy of shining Ryder’s shoes.” Ashley shot me a look of pure, condescending victory. I just shrugged, completely unfazed. Finally, the shopping spree was over. When the sales associate brought over the card reader, Ryder’s face suddenly went pale. “My black card… it’s gone!” Everyone froze. Then, a frantic search began, with people dropping to the floor to look for the missing card. After several minutes of searching, they found nothing. Ashley looked worried. “Ryder, you don’t think someone… stole it, do you?” The moment she said the word “stole,” all eyes turned to me. Ryder put on a show of frustration, then looked at me with an expression of deep regret. “Ethan… you were the only one who bumped into me today. You didn’t… take my card, did you?” He pointed at my pocket. “I thought I saw a card in your pocket. Can I just see it?” I looked at him, a half-smile on my face. “Are you saying I stole your card?” I let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Seriously? Do I look like I need the money?” He rubbed the back of his neck, feigning embarrassment. “I’m not saying you stole it. I just want to see it. Look, everyone’s gifts are already boxed up. We shouldn’t keep the staff waiting.” Seeing Ryder in a tight spot, a few of his new cronies stepped forward. “Just let us see the card, Ethan.” “It’s just a look, man. It’s not going to kill you. What, you think we’re going to scan your card and steal your money?” At the mention of scanning and stealing, Ryder’s expression flickered. “Yeah, Ethan, come on,” he urged, his voice tight. “Just let me see it for a second.” The moment had arrived. I slowly pulled the card from my pocket, pretending to be furious. “Fine! Look! See if this is your damn card.” I thrust it at him. He glanced at it for a fraction of a second before handing it back. His eyes were filled with apology, but a triumphant smirk was already forming at the corner of his mouth. “Sorry, man. That’s definitely your card.” Then he patted his pants pocket and his eyes widened in mock surprise. “Oh! Here it is. It was in my other pocket the whole time.” I watched the whole charade with cold detachment. The people who had been defending him looked embarrassed and started muttering under their breath. “What a drama queen. If he hadn’t been so high and mighty from the start, no one would have suspected him.” “Yeah, if he’s so rich, why’s he even taking a gift from Ryder? So gross.” “Honestly, who knows if that black card is even real? It’s probably a fake.” Hearing that, I had to suppress a smile. Oh, it’s definitely fake. The grand finale was about to begin. I felt a grin spread across my face. Ryder, annoyed by the chatter, shushed them, and they reluctantly fell silent. Everyone’s purchases were bagged and ready, a mountain of luxury shopping bags. The sales associate approached with a sycophantic smile. “Mr. Ryder, the grand total comes to six million and fifty thousand dollars. But given your significant purchase, we’ve waived the fifty thousand and upgraded you to our VIP status.” She beamed. “You only need to pay six million.” The butterfly effect of my rebirth, I guess. He’d spent a million more than last time. Without a second thought, he handed over his black card to pay. I frowned slightly. I hadn’t expected him to actually have that kind of money. The moment the transaction approved, I glanced at my phone. No notification. No alert. My account balance still had a very comfortable number of zeros. I felt a wave of relief. Just as everyone was thanking Ryder for his generosity, a sound like a dying pig echoed through the store. Ryder was staring at his phone, his voice a horrified shriek. “How do I only have two dollars left in my account?!” The words were out before he could stop them. Realizing he’d just shattered the rich-kid persona he’d worked so hard to build, he quickly tried to backtrack. “No, wait, that’s not what I meant.” His new friends looked over. “Ryder couldn’t possibly care about that amount of money. Did the card not have enough? Maybe we should wait while Ryder calls his parents for more cash.” “Yeah, we got the gifts, we can’t let Ryder be stressed out over it.” That last line made me snort with laughter. My laugh drew everyone’s attention. “What’s so funny? You took a gift from him too, you know.” “Don’t be an ungrateful leech. One word from Ryder and your family could be ruined.” My family, ruined? It would probably take a hundred of Ryder’s families to equal a tenth of my family’s assets. In my last life, I had only blamed him for the missing five million. If he had just explained, maybe I would have given him time to pay it back. It wasn’t worth ruining a friendship over money. But he didn’t just want my money. He wanted my life. I looked at the bag in my hand, the one containing a hundred-thousand-dollar backpack, and my mood suddenly lifted. “I wouldn’t dare,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Going against our dear Ryder is like going against the entire class. Whoever messes with him will have to answer to me.” My words only made Ryder’s face darken further. “Everybody just shut up!” he roared.

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Chapter 1 My mercenary husband saved his poisoned teammate by sleeping with her in the jungle. All night. When he returned, he was carrying her—clothes torn, body covered in marks—and he knelt in front of me. “Nina, Chloe took the hit for me. It was a narco-toxin. I couldn’t just watch her die.” He knew I’d be hurt. As penance, he’d already taken a knife and carved seven deep, bloody lines into his own chest. But the toxin was still in Chloe’s system. Every time it flared up, my husband, Marcus, would go to “save” her. And afterward, he would carve another tally mark into his skin. Six months later, he showed me the ninety-nine scars that covered his torso. The man who was always so cold and hard begged me, his voice broken. “Nina, I’ve paid for my sin with my own body. Chloe… she can’t bring herself to terminate the pregnancy. Please, I’m begging you, let the child live.” “You can’t have children,” he continued, his voice desperate. “As soon as it’s born, I’ll bring it to you. It will be our child. It will call you ‘Mom’ and take care of you when we’re old.” My heart felt like it was being crushed. I forced back the tears and said, calmly, “Okay.” In my pocket, I crushed the sonogram photo I’d been hiding. Later, I tossed the crumpled ball into the fireplace. The flames leaped, and the smoke made Chloe cough. Marcus immediately pulled her into his arms, shooting me a frustrated look. “Nina, she already promised. The baby will be raised by you. You don’t need to threaten her. She’s not going to ruin our marriage.” I poked the embers. The smoke burned my eyes, making them red. “Marcus,” I said, my voice flat. “I want a divorce.” He scrambled forward, reaching for me. “Nina, don’t do this, please! Chloe’s taken a bullet for me. She took that toxin for me. I owe her two lives! One child isn’t too much to ask!” His tone was pleading, but his words were all for her. Seeing my expression, his team, who had been standing silently in the living room, suddenly moved. One by one, the grizzled operators all knelt before me. “Ma’am,” one of them said, “we have to speak up for Chloe today, even if it pisses you off.” “She was a clean kid. She gave up her innocence for the boss. It wouldn’t be wrong for him to marry her, honestly.” “You’re a housewife, ma’am. You don’t understand what it’s like. You didn’t see her shield him. We saw what she sacrificed.” “If you ask me, the boss should give her a proper title, not let her and the kid be shamed!” “Shut up!” Marcus roared, cutting them off. “Nina is, and always will be, my only wife! As for Chloe, I will spend the rest of my life making this up to her.” He looked down at the pregnant woman in his arms, his face softening with a tenderness I hadn’t seen in months. Bile rose in my throat. They didn’t know. But Marcus knew. I used to be on the line with him. I took a bullet for him, right here. It’s why I have a heart condition. I was in a coma for three months. When I woke up, he was the one kneeling by my hospital bed, his eyes red, begging me to resign my commission. He said he would protect me for the rest of my life. Now, here he was, kneeling again. But this time, it was to protect another woman from me. I turned and walked away. Marcus caught me on the porch. He gently draped his jacket over my shoulders and tucked my hair behind my ear. “It’s cold out. You never learn how to take care of yourself.” His familiar, warm scent enveloped me. I put a hand on my stomach. For a split second, I almost told him that I was pregnant, too. But then he spoke again. “Nina, Chloe is… sensitive to the cold now. Let her have the climate-controlled house in the suburbs. You should go to the beach house for a while. Get some rest.” The words died in my throat. He’d built that climate-controlled house for me, because my heart condition made me weak and perpetually cold. The beach house was damp and battered by the sea wind. It was where we’d honeymooned, but we hadn’t been back since. It was practically derelict. He used to give me the best of everything. Now, he was asking me to give it all to her. His heart wasn’t mine anymore. I dropped my gaze. “Okay.” He was so relieved he kissed my forehead. “Nina. You’re always the most understanding.” He turned and went back inside, taking Chloe’s hand and blowing on her fingers to warm them, his eyes full of adoration. I just stood there, my own hands trembling in the cold. Chapter 2 2 I was alone on the operating table. The doctor held my hand. “Mrs. Thorne, I’m glad you came to your senses. With your severe heart condition, a pregnancy is just too dangerous.” The first time I saw that tiny flicker on the ultrasound, my whole world had softened. I’d ignored the doctor’s warnings. This was my baby with Marcus. I would have traded my life for this child. But now… there was no point. The cold instruments moved inside me. I gripped the sheets, pain tearing through me as silent tears streamed down my face. My phone rang. The nurse answered it and held it to my ear. It was Marcus, screaming. “Shen Anning! I am so disappointed in you! How could you do this to Chloe?” I was confused, my voice hoarse from pain. “What… what are you talking about?” “Chloe’s been kidnapped! The kidnappers sent a drop-off location. It’s the beach house, Nina! Our beach house!” He was hysterical. “Only you and I know that location! Who else could it be?” I was in too much agony to speak. I just shook my head, forgetting he couldn’t see me. My silence enraged him. “If anything happens to her or my child, I will make you pay a thousand times over!” The line went dead. I closed my eyes, a cold desolation washing over me. After the surgery, as I was being wheeled out of the OR, Marcus’s team was there. They dragged me off the gurney. Cold iron chains were locked around my wrists and ankles. “The boss’s orders,” one of them snarled. “We’re taking you to the island. If they don’t free Chloe, we trade you.” “Are you insane?” my doctor shouted, running over. “Stop! She just had surgery! She’s bleeding!” One of the men shoved him to the floor. They threw me in the back of an SUV. The rough movement sent a fresh wave of blinding pain through my abdomen. I passed out. I don’t know how long it was before I woke to a splash of icy water. I was on a boat. Marcus was standing over me. He threw the bucket onto the deck and grabbed my throat. “Nina, have I been too good to you? Is that why you’ve become this cruel? You couldn’t even spare an unborn child?” I was freezing, shaking so hard I couldn’t form words. “It… it wasn’t… me…” He didn’t believe me. He dragged me off the boat and onto the sand. Chloe was tied to the old lighthouse, her belly large, sobbing. “Marcus, no! It’s a trap! Don’t come any closer!” When she saw me, her tears redoubled. “Nina! If you hate me, I can leave! Why did you have to hurt my baby?” I just shook my head, helpless. “I didn’t do anything! I didn’t!” “Boss! Clear! Whoever it was, they’re gone.” His team fanned out, cut Chloe loose, and Marcus rushed to pull her into a protective embrace. Chapter 3 3 One of Marcus’s men, Vic, spat at my feet. “Ugh. And we called you ‘ma’am.’ You make me sick.” “Poisonous bitch. You’re not worth one strand of Chloe’s hair.” “Enough,” Marcus said coldly. He looked down at me. “Nina, you’ve gone too far. You’ll stay here and reflect on what you’ve done.” He turned and walked away, carrying Chloe. I collapsed onto the cold sand. Just before they disappeared, I saw Chloe look back over his shoulder. She was smiling. Three days later, I was numb. My lips were cracked and bleeding. I thought I was going to die here. Then, a blurry figure walked toward me. “Help… me…” I whispered. Before I lost consciousness, I heard a familiar sigh. “Nina… what am I supposed to do with you?” I woke up on the floor of a basement. Marcus was staring at me, his expression unreadable. “You’re awake.” He offered me a glass of water. I instinctively turned my head away. He slammed the glass down. “Are you done with your tantrum?” His eyes were full of disgust. “I’m not even holding the kidnapping against you, and you’re still pulling this shit? Can you stop being so goddamn petty?” I let out a dry laugh. He hadn’t even investigated. He just knew it was me. “Marcus,” a soft voice called from the doorway. Chloe. “What are you doing here?” Marcus rushed to her, his hands hovering protectively around her stomach. “I was worried about Nina. Is she okay?” Chloe asked, her eyes wide with fake fear. “She’s fine. She won’t die,” Marcus spat, not even looking at me. “You’ll stay down here until Chloe delivers the baby safely.” The heavy door boomed shut, locking me in darkness. I crawled to the table and drank the water. Then, I went to a loose panel in the corner and pulled out a small, encrypted satellite phone. I dialed a number I knew by heart. “What you asked for… I’ll do it.” The voice on the other end was frantic. “Really? You’re not lying? Nina! Where are you? I’m coming to get you.” “Not yet. I have one last thing to do. Wait for me.” “Okay. However long it takes. I’ll be waiting.”

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