I took Mr. Vance on a trip. After checking into the hotel, we went to the hotel pool for a swim.
But a man, dressed to the nines, looked at us like we were trash, literally wrinkling his nose in disgust:
“This is a high-end hotel. How can paupers like these get in? Did you sneak in to freeload off the pool?”
“Sharing a pool with you, I’m genuinely worried about catching some infectious disease!”
Mr. Vance and I instantly lost our good mood. I said coldly:
“The hotel pool is public. Any guest staying here can use it. If you can’t handle it, build your own at home.”
The man frowned in anger, yelling:
“How dare you talk to me like that? Do you even know my wife owns this hotel? The most luxurious suite here is permanently reserved for me.”
“I order you two to get out, now! Reeking of cheapness, you’ve polluted the water. It’s disgusting!”
Mr. Vance and I exchanged a look, both seeing a cold resolve in the other’s eyes.
This hotel was under Vivian’s name. When did she become someone else’s wife?!
Mr. Vance and I had wanted to keep a low profile. We didn’t show our hand when we checked in, but we never expected to run into such a scene.
Our happy mood just evaporated.
Mr. Vance, a veteran entrepreneur, didn’t even bat an eye at this clown. He shot back casually:
“Who do you think you are to order us around? You’re the one who needs to get out.”
“The real stench here is your lack of class, which is truly disgusting.”
Ignoring the man fuming with rage, Mr. Vance turned to me and said:
“Julian, let’s keep swimming. Don’t mind him. When we get back, I’ll go with you to ask Vivian what exactly is going on.”
The man’s face turned beet red from being ignored, and suddenly a malicious grin spread across his face:
“Fine! Since you love swimming so much, you can stay in the water all day!”
He called over a burly man, who approached with a fawning look and said:
“Leo, you called? Do you want me to teach you how to swim?”
Leo pointed at Mr. Vance and me, smirking:
“Mike, go give these arrogant nobodies a good lesson.”
Mike immediately understood, nodding eagerly:
“Don’t worry, Leo, I’m a swim instructor! I know exactly how to make someone suffer in the water!”
He jumped into the water. Before Mr. Vance and I noticed, he grabbed Mr. Vance’s head and pushed him down hard.
Mr. Vance was older; how could he match Mike’s strength? He immediately choked on water, struggling desperately.
Alarmed, I quickly went to push Mike away.
But Mike was agile. He pinned me underwater too, force-feeding me several gulps of water.
Finally, I took the opportunity to kick him hard where it counts, making him release his grip.
I quickly pulled Mr. Vance out.
He was gasping for air, his eyes rolled back, coughing as if to throw up a lung before he finally recovered.
He was a man who had always been fiercely strong-willed, with a reputation for ruthless tactics.
He’d grown a modest motel into a nationwide hotel chain, treated with respect wherever he went.
When had he ever suffered such humiliation?
His chest heaved with rage as he yelled at Leo:
“Do you know this could kill someone? You have no regard for the law!”
“I’m going to have my legal team sue you!”
Leo smirked indifferently:
“So what if someone dies? My wife owns hundreds of hotels nationwide; she makes enough in a day to buy out your pathetic lives.”
“You should have done your homework before messing with me! Lawyers? Can you even afford one?!”
But this hotel was one of many Mr. Vance had entrusted to my wife. Leo’s air of being the rightful owner left me incredibly confused.
Did Vivian have a second husband?
I patted Mr. Vance’s back to help him calm down, then asked in a low voice:
“Is your wife named Vivian?”
He gloated, arrogant as ever:
“That’s right. At least you’re not completely clueless.”
“If you get on your knees, apologize, and clean this pool, I *might* consider letting you off the hook.”
“Otherwise, when she gets here, you’ll be in for a world of pain!”
A chill ran down my spine. Had Vivian, the woman who swore eternal loyalty to me on our wedding day, really cheated?
The next moment, my gaze fell on the tattoo on his collarbone: a maple leaf design.
I’d seen the exact same tattoo on Vivian’s lower abdomen.
She told me she’d gotten it to commemorate the day we met, which was when the maple leaves were turning red.
How ridiculous that I actually felt so touched back then, but it turns out it was a matching tattoo with another man.
If I hadn’t stumbled upon this today, I wouldn’t have known she’d been keeping a secret lover.
The angrier I got, the calmer I became. I decided to strip away his facade:
“But as far as I know, Vivian’s husband is named Julian. And he certainly doesn’t look like you. You’re just a kept man, yet you have the audacity to be so arrogant? You’re absolutely shameless!”
“Call Vivian right now! I want to see how she’s going to make us regret this!”
The word ‘kept man’ clearly struck a nerve. He said spitefully:
“Don’t even mention that loser Julian. In love, there’s no such thing as ‘first dibs.’ The one who isn’t truly loved is the outsider.”
“My wife is coming over to see me today. I’ll call her now. You just wait for it!”
He picked up his phone, his voice instantly shifting to a sickeningly sweet, affected tone:
“Vivian, when will you be here? These two old geezers were bullying me at the hotel pool, calling me a kept man. Hurry up and come get justice for me.”
“From now on, only let me use the pool. I’ve learned a few new ‘tricks’ in the water, just waiting for you to enjoy them.”
After he hung up, vanity and smugness oozed from him:
“She’ll be here in half an hour. You’re dead men. She has plenty of ways to deal with you!”
I was trembling with rage. The thought of Vivian pretending deep affection while sleeping with another man made me sick to my stomach.
Mr. Vance understood from my reaction, gritting his teeth in fury:
“Vivian, that animal! Just like her mother!”
“What I can give her, I can just as easily take back!”
Mr. Vance hated infidelity with a passion. Years ago, my mother-in-law cheated on him with a younger man, stripping him of everything before their divorce.
He single-handedly raised Vivian while juggling his career.
After all his efforts raising her, he never expected his own daughter to have inherited her mother’s fickle nature and turn out just like her.
Mr. Vance owned over a hundred hotels nationwide.
Although he’d entrusted a portion of them to Vivian to manage in recent years, he remained the true power behind them.
I, Julian, wasn’t marrying Vivian just for show; my family background was just as prominent as hers.
But I was more interested in art, so outsiders often assumed I was living off Vivian’s wealth.
They had no idea I was the sole heir of the Vance family.
Vivian, I’m waiting to see how you’re going to explain this to us!
Just then, I noticed Mr. Vance’s face had gone pale.
Worried, I quickly helped him, wanting him to get out and change.
But Leo sneered and subtly raised his chin, and Mike instantly knew what he meant.
Mike hoisted himself out of the water and kicked Mr. Vance square in the chest as he was climbing the ladder.
Mr. Vance splashed back into the water. I quickly went to pull him out again.
Leo watched from the side, roaring with laughter:
“Ha! Look at you two pathetic creatures, flailing around like drowning rats. You love the water so much? Then stay in it!”
“Mike, don’t let them out until my wife gets here.”
Mike replied, eager to please:
“Don’t worry, Leo, mission accomplished.”
“When Ms. Vivian gets here, just put in a good word for me.”
No matter how many times Mr. Vance and I tried to climb out, Mike would kick us back down.
Our strength gradually gave out. Mr. Vance clutched his chest, struggling to breathe, unable to speak.
I urged him to lean on me, then yelled frantically at the shore:
“Are you trying to kill him? My dad’s heart condition is flaring up, let us out, now!”
“Otherwise, when Vivian gets here, you’ll regret it!”
Mike’s face paled, and he glanced nervously at Leo, but Leo just chuckled dismissively:
“You old men are all the same, always playing games! Faking a heart attack? You were just having a grand time swimming a minute ago, weren’t you?”
“Mike, go shut off the pool’s heater. Let’s see how long he can keep up the act then!”
My veins throbbed with fury at his audacity:
“I’m telling you, if someone dies, when the police get here, none of you will escape!”
He casually sipped from a glass of red wine, his arrogance dripping from every word:
“Stop the act. If you want to get out, just beg me.”
“Weren’t you so tough a minute ago? What, scared now that my wife’s on her way?”
Mr. Vance already had a heart condition. Today, he wasn’t just fuming with anger, but he’d also choked on water multiple times and was completely drained. He was in serious pain.
I bit my lip. No matter what, I couldn’t let him be in danger.
I’d just swallow my pride for now to ensure his safety. I was about to open my mouth and beg when Mr. Vance gripped my arm.
His voice trembling, he said:
“I’ve never bowed my head to anyone in my life, much less begged someone as utterly worthless as him.”
“Julian, I can hold on. When Vivian gets here, I’ll never forgive her.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve been hurt by a woman’s betrayal my entire life. I’ll stand by you.”
Seeing we still wouldn’t beg, Leo’s eyes narrowed maliciously, and he turned to Mike:
“Go get two buckets of ice from the kitchen and cool them down even more.”
The ice was dumped into the water, and the temperature quickly plummeted. I was shivering uncontrollably.
Mr. Vance’s lips were already turning blue, and his consciousness was fading.
I slapped his face, but he barely reacted.
Gritting my teeth, I quickly swam him towards the edge, but Mike repeatedly shoved us away with a stick.
Frantic, I yelled hoarsely, my eyes burning:
“My dad’s dying! Let him out, now! If he dies, your hotel won’t get away with it!”
“When Vivian gets here, she’ll never forgive you!”
Mike, as a swim instructor, saw Mr. Vance’s face and realized the situation was genuinely bad. He quickly turned to Leo:
“Leo, the older guy looks like he’s really fading. Maybe we should let him out? If he dies in your pool, wouldn’t that just be… unsettling for you to use later?”
“And Ms. Vivian probably doesn’t want you causing a death, either. If she gets mad, I’ll probably lose my job.”
Leo thought for a moment, then scoffed:
“So you’re worried about your job, huh? I didn’t *intend* to kill anyone, but some people are just too stubborn for their own good.”
“I said if they begged me, I’d *consider* letting them out.”
“It’s not like they’re actually dying yet. I want to see how long they can hold out.”
Mike, emboldened by Leo’s presence, looked at me smugly:
“Let me introduce you. Leo is Ms. Vivian’s favorite man. This entire hotel is at his service. Everything has to make way for him.”
“You shouldn’t have been let in today. If you want to live, apologize to him now. Beg him nicely.”
“If you don’t wise up, no one can help you!”
I bit my lip hard, seeing Mr. Vance in such a critical state. I couldn’t care less about my pride or dignity anymore. I forced the words out:
“I’m begging you, let my dad out first. He has a heart condition; he’ll really die!”
Leo’s lips curled into a triumphant smirk, and he drawled sarcastically:
“Didn’t you just call me a shameless kept man? I want you to say it again. Say that Julian, that loser, is the kept man, and *I* am Vivian’s husband.”
Leo deeply resented being called a kept man.
He was especially jealous of this Julian, whom he’d never even met, a supposed loser who lived off women. How could he possibly be better than him?
He didn’t realize *I* was Julian, and in doing so, he inflicted the greatest humiliation on me.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, suppressing the burning humiliation. Word by agonizing word, I repeated:
“Julian, that *scumbag*, is the kept man. *You* are Vivian’s husband!”
“Happy now? Now let my dad out!”
He smiled a satisfied, cunning smile:
“Haha, I said I’d *consider* it. Well, I’ve considered, and I’ve decided I don’t want you getting out.”
My rage boiled over; I wanted to tear him apart with my bare hands. I had no choice but to reveal Mr. Vance’s identity.
“You’ve gone too far! He’s Vivian’s father! If anything happens to him, when Vivian gets here, she’ll never forgive you!”
Leo burst out laughing, completely dismissive:
“You pathetic losers, you’ll make up any lie, won’t you? I just heard you call him ‘Dad.’ How did he suddenly become Vivian’s dad? That’s quite a quick identity change.”
“You’ve ruined my swim today, and I’m going to make sure you learn a lesson. Next time, remember to open your eyes before you step out!”
Mr. Vance was trembling in my arms, his breathing growing shallower. His heart condition had fully flared up.
If he didn’t get his fast-acting heart medication soon, he would truly die.
My eyes burning, I screamed hoarsely:
“Help! Somebody help us! Someone’s going to die!”
But the entire pool area was empty; there was no one else around.
Seeing this, Mike also panicked. He said worriedly:
“Leo, what if…”
But Leo cut him off, completely unconcerned about a human life, saying casually:
“It’s fine. Old guys like him are tougher than young people; some even go winter swimming. I bet he’s faking it.”
“My wife will be here any minute. We can let them out when she arrives. A few more minutes won’t hurt; if something was going to happen, it would have already.”
But a few more minutes could mean Mr. Vance’s life if we missed the critical window for intervention.
Despair instantly flooded my heart.
Just then, the hotel manager, Mr. Jenkins, rushed over. I yelled at him, my voice hoarse:
“Help! Someone help! My dad’s having a heart attack! Get him out, call an ambulance!”
Mr. Jenkins had met Mr. Vance years ago but didn’t recognize him now.
He saw Mr. Vance’s condition and a flicker of fear crossed his face.
He’d heard there was trouble and had come over hoping to curry favor with Leo.
But with someone on the verge of death, he quickly weighed upsetting Leo against losing his job for a death on his watch.
Then, he turned to Leo, a forced smile on his face, and said:
“Mr. Leo, maybe we should let them out first. If something serious happens, you won’t be able to use this pool ever again.”
Leo glanced at him, thought for a moment, then said haughtily:
“Fine, for your sake, let them out.”
Mr. Jenkins quickly had Mike pull Mr. Vance and me out of the water.
Mr. Vance lay motionless on the ground.
Ignoring my ragged breathing, I bolted towards the changing rooms, retrieving my bag as fast as I could.
Fumbling frantically, I poured out the fast-acting heart medication, ready to force it into his mouth.
But Leo suddenly kicked, sending the bottle and its contents flying into the pool.
He looked at my furious face and laughed sardonically:
“Alright, stop the act. You’re out. Now get lost. Next time you see me, cross the street. I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll let you two off.”
My fury exploded. I lunged forward, landing a brutal punch on Leo’s face, my eyes blazing as I snarled:
“If anything happens to my dad, I swear, I will make both you and Vivian pay!”
He hadn’t expected me to hit him. He shrieked:
“You lunatic! I shouldn’t have gone soft! I should have just let you both drown!”
I lunged to hit him again, but Mike and Mr. Jenkins grabbed my shoulders.
Leo landed at least a dozen slaps across my face.
The stinging pain on my face snapped me back to reality. Every second we wasted meant Mr. Vance was closer to death.
I fought desperately, ripped free from their grasp, and pulled out my phone, dialing Vivian.
“Vivian, Dad’s having a heart attack! We’re at the Bayview Hotel pool. Get the nearest medical team here, now!”
“Any later, and Dad will be gone!”
But Vivian’s voice was sharp with impatience:
“Your dad has a heart condition, doesn’t he? Doesn’t he know how to take care of himself?”
“I’m in a meeting. Call an ambulance yourself.”
And with that, she coldly hung up.
I was shaking with rage. Did she even have *any* idea whose father was having a heart attack?
The next moment, Leo gasped with delight, looking towards the entrance:
“Vivian, you’re finally here!”
He hugged her tightly, his voice laced with affection:
“Vivian, what took you so long? Those two men just bullied me so badly.”
He pointed to his reddened, bruised face, whimpering:
“Look, my face is all swollen from that jerk.”
“You have to get even for me this time, and then spend a few extra days comforting me.”
Vivian looked at his face with a pang of sympathy, her voice tightening with anger:
“Who had the audacity to lay a hand on you? I’ll make sure they pay!”
“Don’t worry, I cleared my schedule for a whole week just for you. I’ll make sure to spoil you.”
This was the woman who had just hung up on me, the same woman who, just last night, had been clinging to me, complaining about a week-long business trip, swearing she’d miss me terribly.
It was all a lie, a performance. Love vows? Utter bullshit!
Leo wrapped an arm around Vivian’s waist, proudly and triumphantly leading her over to me, pointing:
“This is the man who hit me. The one lying on the ground is his dad.”
“Tell someone to teach them a lesson!”
I looked up, my gaze locking onto Vivian. I spoke coldly:
“Vivian, how exactly are you going to ‘teach *me* a lesson’?”
She instantly froze, her surprise making her stammer:
“Julian, you… what are you doing here?”
I gritted my teeth, my voice seething with anger:
“If I weren’t here, when would I ever have found out you were hiding another man?!”
“Vivian, it must have been *so hard* for you, pretending to be a loving wife to me for all these years!”
Panic was practically dripping from her face as she babbled incoherently:
“Julian, please listen, it’s not what you think.”
“Anyway, never mind that, how’s your dad?”
I cut her off sharply, pointing to Mr. Vance, who was still unconscious on the floor:
“Vivian, look! Whose father is this?!”
Vivian’s soul nearly left her body. She gasped, her voice a terrified whisper:
“Dad! Dad, what happened to you?!”
Everyone froze in shock. Leo stared, disbelieving:
“Vivian, is he really your dad? Then who is *this* man? Is he… Julian?!”
Mr. Jenkins was terrified, and Mike, recalling everything he’d done to us, felt his legs turn to jelly.
Vivian ignored him, frantically calling for the nearest medical team to save her father.
Only after they’d rushed Mr. Vance to the hospital and I heard he was out of immediate danger did I finally breathe a sigh of relief.
The doctor frowned, speaking gravely:
“Good thing he was brought in when he was. One more minute, and we wouldn’t have been able to save him.”
Vivian had learned the full truth and was absolutely furious with Leo.
He tried to talk to her several times, but she completely ignored him.
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When I went to pay for a cake, the clerk told me my loyalty card balance was insufficient.
Checking the transaction history, I discovered the card’s usage had inexplicably jumped from once a week to once a day.
But my husband, Brandon, who never liked sweets, always kept the card.
There’s no way he’d use it that often!
I tried to reassure myself. Maybe he was secretly buying treats for our son, Leo, and didn’t tell me to avoid my disapproval.
But when I went back to the cake shop to retrieve the cake I’d accidentally left behind, I saw Brandon walking in, his arm around his assistant, Chloe.
I swallowed my rising anger and dialed his number.
“Honey, is there any money left on the loyalty card? I’m craving some Strawberry Shortcake.”
Brandon chuckled, his voice dripping with his usual affectionate tone.
“Of course! I’ve loaded plenty of money on it for you, sweetie. Swipe away!”
Just like always, I replied, “You’re the best, honey.”
The moment I got home, I called my lawyer.
“Draft a divorce agreement for me. I want Brandon to leave with nothing.”
I waited until midnight before Brandon finally walked through the door.
“Honey, did you wait up long?”
He slipped off his shoes, casually recounting his day. “Work was crazy today, so many meetings, I lost track of time.”
“Good thing I pre-ordered your Strawberry Shortcake. I rushed straight back after work.”
He knelt beside my leg, his voice laced with that familiar tenderness. “Next time, I’ll make sure to get you a fresh one, that’s when it tastes best.”
Brandon was always like this.
He’d update me on his schedule, and every night he’d share interesting stories from his day.
Thoughtful, considerate, absolutely flawless.
That’s why I never doubted him.
But now, the question tumbled out. “Did you buy this cake yourself?”
“I had Chloe pick it up. I just couldn’t break away.”
My heart sank.
Chloe.
His assistant.
The one he’d called a distant family friend, someone he’d known since childhood, claiming she needed his help because he owed her family a kindness from years ago.
He was the one who insisted on taking care of her, bringing her into the company.
I felt pity for her, not only agreeing but even specifically telling him to give her a higher salary.
But now he was lying.
All those tender, thoughtful updates, all those late-night chats filled with shared stories.
How much of it had been real? How much had been a lie?
That night, I lay with my eyes closed, unable to sleep for a long time.
Late into the night, Brandon waved his hand in front of my eyes.
Then he quietly got up and crept into his study in the dark.
In the darkness, I switched on my phone and logged into his old, hidden SnapChat account.
Blinding messages popped up, one after another.
All from Brandon.
“Baby, I miss you so much.”
“I was watching you the whole time during the meeting today.”
“Just a little longer, and we won’t have to hide anymore.”
The contact’s name was just a simple “Chloe.”
That old lie, *she’s like a younger sister to me*, echoed in my ears.
No need to overthink it; he had definitely lied.
After a sleepless night, Brandon looked at the dark circles under my eyes with concern.
“You look terrible today. Get some good rest at home.”
“I’ll pick Leo up from school.”
He always tried to shoulder my burdens.
That demeanor used to make me feel incredibly secure.
I nodded, but I still went to the school.
Because last week I’d promised Leo I’d take him for his favorite burgers today.
Brandon’s car slowly pulled up to the school gate.
Stepping out of the passenger seat was a beaming Chloe.
Leo burst out of the school and ran straight into Chloe’s arms.
“Aunt Chloe! You look so pretty today!”
“Even prettier than the fairy pictures Mom shows me!”
Brandon stood nearby, watching the scene.
A gentle smile, one I’d never seen before, bloomed on his face.
I could only hail a cab, following clumsily behind their car.
They went to the burger joint.
Then, they headed to the dessert shop Leo had been talking about for ages.
Through the bright glass window, I saw Leo holding two different toys, clearly new gifts.
His cheeks were puffed out, and ice cream stains smudged the corner of his mouth.
The most crushing blow came when they were drinking milk tea; Brandon naturally took Chloe’s hand.
He leaned down and sipped from the straw she had just used.
Their familiarity and intimacy outlined a picture of a perfectly happy family of three.
And I was the superfluous observer, completely excluded.
I held onto a sliver of hope, thinking Leo was young and didn’t understand anything.
Until I heard his childish, loud voice, cutting through the noise with a complaint.
“Aunt Chloe is the best! My mom is so stingy and bossy.”
“She only lets me have one burger at a time and always forces me to eat those gross greens! It’s so annoying!”
In that moment, all my strength drained away.
Leo, who was already severely overweight for his age.
All the adults in our family spoiled him, indulging his every whim.
Only I, his mother, had to harden my heart and be the “bad guy.”
Strictly controlling his diet.
Using those “gross greens” and the “one burger a week” rule.
Struggling to fight against his weight and the looming health crisis.
In his eyes, my anxiety and discipline had become stinginess and meddling.
And Aunt Chloe, who bribed him with junk food and endless indulgence, was the beautiful, generous angel.
That evening, Brandon’s mom invited us over for dinner.
The moment I stepped in, I saw the dining table laden with meat dishes.
Brandon’s mom noticed my gaze sweep over the food and quickly cut in, smiling.
“Oh, it’s the weekend, and Leo hasn’t been over in a while.”
“Let him relax and indulge tonight. Don’t say anything, Elara.”
I nodded, saying nothing.
Leo, however, seemed to have discovered something peculiar.
He walked up to me, tilting his head as he scrutinized me.
“Mom, why aren’t you telling me off for eating meat today?”
“Did you finally lighten up?”
I looked at him, my voice flat.
“Eat whatever you want from now on. I won’t control you anymore.”
He froze for a moment, apparently not getting the reaction he expected.
Then he pouted, slammed down his fork, and loudly declared, “Fine! I don’t want any dinner tonight!”
I watched him, my heart growing cold.
“Don’t want any,” my foot.
It was obvious he’d gorged himself on burgers, ice cream, and milk tea with his dad and Chloe this afternoon.
Now he couldn’t eat another bite.
Such a young child, yet he could lie without batting an eye.
Brandon’s mom immediately panicked, grabbing her grandson who was about to slip off his chair.
“You’re growing! How can you skip a meal? What if you get sick?!”
Without waiting for a reply, she heaped his bowl with a mountain of rice and meat.
Leo was pinned to his chair by his grandma, facing that small mountain of food, his earlier bravado gone.
He turned his pitiable, pleading gaze toward me, a clear cry for help.
I simply watched him.
My heart felt like it was clogged with a stone, pressing down, suffocating me.
But I couldn’t make any expression on my face.
Brandon finally spoke.
“Mom, if Leo really doesn’t have an appetite, don’t force him. Eating too much at night is hard to digest.”
Brandon’s mom grumbled but let go.
That night, Leo suddenly started vomiting and having diarrhea, his little face deathly pale.
He was in so much pain he curled into a ball in bed, crying uncontrollably.
Brandon’s mom was frantic and bewildered, muttering as she cleaned up.
“What’s going on? He barely ate anything tonight…”
I stayed by his hospital bed all night.
Watching Leo, weak and miserable, my heart felt like it was being twisted repeatedly, and tears streamed down my face.
Around dawn, the medicine finally took effect, and Leo drifted into a deep sleep.
The hospital room was silent.
But then, Leo frowned, muttering indistinctly in his restless sleep.
“Aunt Chloe…”
Those words pierced my heart without warning.
Even in such a raw, instinctive moment, he called out for her, not his mother.
Brandon finally rushed to the hospital as dawn approached.
He was carrying an elegant cake box.
“Honey, you’ve been through so much tonight. Get some energy.”
I opened the box; inside was a mango cake.
For a moment, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes.
Had Brandon forgotten?
Had he forgotten that eating mangoes gave me hives and made it hard for me to breathe?
I looked up, my gaze sweeping past the cake to Chloe, who had just arrived behind him.
She was also looking at the cake.
A flicker of smug satisfaction, a look only another woman would understand, passed through her eyes.
Suddenly, I understood everything.
This mango cake was never meant for me.
I suppressed the surge of icy coldness in my heart and turned to Chloe.
“Chloe, I hear you love sweets?”
“Conveniently, the loyalty card for the shop your brother-in-law and I used to frequent still has quite a bit of money on it. Let me check the exact amount and transfer it for you to use. No need to waste it.”
Before I could finish, Brandon’s face instantly changed.
He almost lunged to cut me off, chuckling nervously as he took over the conversation.
“Oh, what are you saying! Chloe’s always talking about dieting these days.”
“She stopped eating cakes and things a long time ago, right, Chloe?”
He looked at Chloe urgently, his eyes clearly urging her on.
Chloe lowered her eyelids and obediently murmured, “Mhm.”
Brandon made an excuse about checking with the doctor and hastily left the room.
Suddenly, the hospital room door was violently kicked open with a loud bang!
A group of menacing men burst in.
The leader scanned the room, his gaze suddenly locking onto me.
Without a word, he stepped forward and brutally shoved me.
“Damn it! It’s you!”
Fists and insults rained down on me.
Caught off guard, I curled up defensively, shielding myself with my arms.
In the chaos, I heard Chloe’s feigned scream.
“Oh my God! Elara! Who did you upset? Why are they assaulting you here, at the hospital?!”
But in that instant, I clearly saw it.
In between his punches, the leader of the men glanced at Chloe, swift as lightning.
That look was undeniably one of seeking permission!
It hit me then.
This wasn’t an accident at all; it was a clumsy performance.
Rage instantly consumed the pain.
I struggled to my feet.
Desperate, I wanted to lunge at the woman now cowering in the corner, a smirk of triumph and mockery on her face.
Just then, Brandon reappeared at the doorway.
He saw me with my arm raised, seemingly about to strike Chloe.
And Chloe, looking pitiful and trembling.
“Are you insane?! What are you doing?!”
He shoved me aside without explanation, completely ignoring any attempt I made to speak, pointing a finger at my face and yelling.
“You’ve disappointed me so much! How could you lay hands on Chloe in a hospital?!”
I stumbled, hitting the wall, and a sharp pain flared through my injuries.
Brandon saw the bruises on my arms and the torn skin.
Yet there was no sympathy in his eyes, only deeper annoyance and impatience.
“You’re an adult. Go find a doctor for a few scratches! Don’t make a scene here!”
He finished, then turned to tenderly support Chloe, his voice instantly softening.
“Chloe, are you okay? Are you scared? Let’s go.”
I didn’t cry, nor did I try to argue further.
I just quietly took out my phone and dialed the number of a trusted friend.
“I need you to look into a few people, and find me irrefutable evidence of Brandon and Chloe’s affair.”
A fierce, tearing pain ripped through my abdomen.
When I woke up again, I saw the hospital ceiling.
The doctor stood by my bed, speaking with regret.
“Ms. Elara, you’ve miscarried. It’s unlikely you’ll be able to have children of your own in the future.”
The news reached Brandon, and he finally came.
He burst into the room, his eyes red.
“Elara, I’m so sorry. I didn’t take good care of you.”
“I’m heartbroken about the baby too. From now on, we’ll live a good life together.”
“I promise I’ll never upset you again. Please don’t be so stubborn and angry anymore, okay?”
He acted utterly devastated, as if he wasn’t the one who had protected another woman and walked out of that hospital room.
This belated and false concern only made me nauseous.
Just then, Brandon’s phone rang.
He glanced at the screen, a flicker of panic in his eyes.
Though he tried to hide it, I vaguely heard Chloe’s tearful voice.
He hung up, then turned, his face now etched with anxiety.
“A critical project at the company has run into big trouble. I have to go deal with it immediately.”
“You get some rest. I’ll come see you later.”
Another lie.
Watching his hurried retreating figure, my heart sank completely into an icy abyss.
Almost simultaneously, my friend’s investigation results came in.
A string of explicit photos and detailed hotel records lay before me.
My last shred of hope was utterly crushed.
My hands trembling, I opened the home surveillance app on my phone and scrolled back through the footage from when I wasn’t home.
When I saw those two familiar figures in various parts of *my* house.
Even brazenly entangled on the marital bed Brandon and I had shared for years.
A tidal wave of disgust and despair instantly overwhelmed me.
The day I was discharged, Brandon, finally “finished” with his work, appeared before me again.
He wore that mask of tender thoughtfulness.
Naturally taking my bag, he rambled on.
“Honey, I’ve taken excellent care of Leo these past few days. His homework is up to date, and I’ve picked him up and dropped him off for his extracurriculars on time.”
“He’s been very good, just kept saying he missed his mom and urged me to come pick you up quickly.”
Watching Brandon perform as the model husband and diligent father.
I felt an unprecedented exhaustion and absurdity.
I didn’t look at him, nor did I respond to his chatter.
I just quietly took out a prepared document from my bag and calmly handed it to him.
“Brandon, let’s get a divorce.”
He froze, the smile on his face instantly rigid.
I met his shocked gaze, continuing clearly and firmly, “Take a look at the agreement. You’ll leave with nothing, and Leo will be with you.”
“I’ll transfer alimony to you regularly.”
Brandon’s tender expression was replaced by incredulous shock.
He sounded as if he hadn’t heard me clearly, raising his voice sharply.
“Divorce? Elara, what kind of joke is this?! Why?!”
He snatched the agreement, slammed it onto the floor without looking at it.
“Why? Because I work myself to death at the company all day?”
“Because after work, I still have to painstakingly pick up Leo and take him to his classes, not getting a moment’s rest?”
“Yes, I’m busy. Yes, sometimes I neglect you, but who is all this for? Isn’t it for *this family*?!”
He grew more agitated, as if he were the one who had sacrificed everything and was now misunderstood.
“I earn the money to feed and clothe you, allowing you to be a comfortable stay-at-home wife, free from worries about life!”
“I believe I’ve been fair to you, fair to this family!”
“And what have *you* done all day at home?”
“Now, out of nowhere, you want a divorce? And you want me to leave with nothing? And take Leo too?”
“Elara, do you have a heart at all?!”
Brandon gasped for breath, staring at me, his eyes filled with betrayed anger and confusion.
“Tell me, what exactly did I do wrong?”
Watching his self-righteous face, blaming me for everything.
The last shred of warmth in my heart vanished completely, leaving only a sense of absurdity.
I almost wanted to applaud his superb acting.
Picking up and dropping off Leo?
That was just a perfect excuse for him and Chloe to have secret meetings away from my watchful eye.
Every pickup and drop-off time was a sweet rendezvous and shared playtime in the car for them.
How could I have ever thought that was thoughtfulness?
I slowly raised my head, meeting his angry gaze.
“Brandon, have you gotten so deep into your role that you’ve forgotten who you are?”
He paused.
I continued, enunciating each word, clearly reminding him.
“The ‘Story Group’ , is surnamed Su, not Gu.” (Note: The Chinese name here is a pun that would be lost in translation, so I’m focusing on the meaning: ‘My company, not yours.’)
“It was left to me by my father and built and expanded by my own hands.”
“You, Brandon, are merely a professional manager, overseeing a portion of the daily operations on my behalf.”
“When did core decisions and financial power ever fall to you?”
“What do you mean, ‘money you earned’? Every single penny of it is *my* money.”
“The one paying your salary is me.”
Brandon’s face instantly turned ashen.
Just then, the phrase he’d sent to Chloe on SnapChat flashed through my mind.
*’Just a little longer, and we won’t have to hide anymore.’*
So that’s it.
The “won’t have to hide anymore” didn’t just refer to their illicit relationship coming into the open.
It probably also meant that he believed he had secretly planned long enough.
Perhaps in collusion with Chloe, perhaps even with certain people within the company.
He was on the verge of destabilizing the company’s foundations, even trying to change the group’s name, to make it “his.”
The panic in Brandon’s eyes was quickly replaced by fury.
“Elara! I never imagined… I never imagined you thought of me that way!”
“Yes, the company was initially your family’s! But these past few years, who has been tirelessly fighting for it day and night?”
“Who poured all his heart and soul into it? It was me! Brandon!”
He practically roared, veins bulging on his forehead.
“I always thought we were husband and wife, the closest people, that there should be no distinction between us!”
“Mine was yours, and yours was mine.”
“I never thought of separating things so clearly!”
“But now I understand that in your heart, I’ve always just been a high-level employee?”
“An outsider you can kick out anytime? What do you consider all my years of effort?!”
He grew more agitated, suddenly kicking over a nearby chair.
“Fine, fine then! Elara, you’re truly something!”
Brandon glared at me ferociously, his eyes filled with humiliation and explosive rage.
Finally, he spun around, yanked the door open, and stormed out without looking back.
Watching the direction he disappeared, my heart held no ripples.
Only a sense of urgency.
His reaction was so intense, proving I’d hit a nerve.
It also meant he might act irrationally out of anger.
I had to go to the company immediately!
I checked out of the hospital as fast as possible and drove directly to the Group’s main building.
However, as I walked toward the executive-only access point, as usual.
And habitually swiped my access card.
“Beep, verification failed.”
The cold electronic voice was particularly jarring.
I tried again, with the same result.
Just then, a uniformed security guard quickly approached, blocking my way.
“Ma’am, I apologize, but your access is not permitted in this area.”
The receptionist, a young woman who had known me for years, rushed over, her face a mix of embarrassment and nervousness.
“Ms. Elara, you… why are you here?”
“Mr. Brandon issued a special order a week ago, forbidding any unauthorized personnel from entering the core office area.”
“Especially you, ma’am. We’re just following orders, please don’t make it difficult for us.”
I froze.
*Especially* me?
I’d only been away from the company for a few days, and it was already almost “Brandon’s”?
He moved incredibly fast, it seemed this plan wasn’t something he’d conceived overnight.
This disabled access card was the very one Brandon had insisted on getting for me.
He had hugged me, saying, “Honey, let’s get you a special ‘partner’ access card.”
“That way, every time I swipe my card, I’ll feel like I’m working hard for *our* shared home, and it’ll motivate me even more.”
At the time, I thought it was sweet romance.
Now, looking back, he had been isolating me from the company’s daily operations from the very beginning.
Giving me an empty title, binding me with so-called affection.
Tricking me into being a complacent stay-at-home wife.
And now, he had effortlessly severed my apparent ties to the company.
Useless.
Huh.
I offered a small smile to the anxious receptionist, indicating she shouldn’t be nervous.
“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”
I pulled out a black metal card.
This card was the highest-level security key, configured specifically for me by the tech department when the company was founded.
It possessed absolute access, overriding all tiered systems.
It could open any door in the Group building, access any level of data.
It represented the ultimate ownership and control of the Group.
I rarely used it, so much so that many people had forgotten its existence.
Including Brandon, who seemed to have gotten ahead of himself.
Under the astonished gazes of the security guard and the receptionist, I gently placed the black metal card against the sensor.
“Beep—”
A crisp, prolonged tone sounded, and a green light illuminated.
A cold electronic female voice clearly announced.
“Maximum authorization verified. Welcome, Ms. Elara.”
The security gate in front of me slowly slid open.
I walked through the familiar corridor toward my office.
However, arriving at the door, I paused.
The nameplate had been changed.
It was replaced by a sign adorned with lace trim.
It read: “Chloe’s Exclusive Lounge.”
My heart plummeted. I pushed the door open.
Inside, it was even more unrecognizable.
My carefully chosen office furniture, my art collection, and the photos of Brandon, Leo, and me on the walls.
Every trace of my presence had been wiped clean.
Instead, the room was filled with stuffed animals, a pink carpet, a vanity table, and a cloyingly sweet perfume scent.
Brandon had been in such a hurry.
He hadn’t even bothered to maintain the slightest pretense of decency.
I took a deep breath, suppressing the surge of anger, and turned directly toward the common office area.
I knew Chloe would usually be there at this time.
Sure enough, she was sitting at what used to be the Administrative Manager’s workstation.
Imperiously instructing another colleague to handle her documents.
She looked up and saw me, a flicker of surprise flashing across her face.
“Oh, Elara? What brings you to the office?”
“The air here isn’t great, and it’s so noisy and messy. You’re just recovering; you can’t handle this kind of stress.”
“Go home and rest, Brandon and I have everything handled here~”
I watched her perform coldly, cutting her off before she could finish.
“What do you mean, ‘Brandon and I’? Since when did a junior assistant like you represent the company?”
“And who are you to speak to me in that tone?”
Chloe clearly hadn’t expected me to be so direct.
The fake smile on her face stiffened, then morphed into undisguised scorn and contempt.
“Elara, I’m only calling you by your first name out of courtesy, don’t push your luck.”
“Everyone in the company knows Brandon got sick of you ages ago, right?”
“A useless woman who only stays home and manages her kid, do you really think you’re still important?”
She stepped closer, her tone vicious and triumphant.
“I’m telling you, Brandon doesn’t love you anymore. His heart and eyes are only for me now!”
“Who are you trying to impress with this attitude? Want me to call him right now?”
“He’ll only hate you more for barging into the office and making a scene!”
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My best friend from my previous life wanted to marry my grandmother. I did everything I could to stop him, and I succeeded.
Later, my grandmother married a man closer to our age, and they had a lavish wedding.
My friend, Derek, held a grudge. He invited me hiking, then, at the summit, he stabbed me eighteen times before pushing me off a cliff.
“It’s all your fault for stopping me from becoming rich! Everything should have been mine!”
When I was reborn, I smiled as I watched him marry my grandmother.
What he didn’t know was that in the past ten years, Grandma had married eight grooms.
He was the ninth, and the previous eight grooms had all met untimely ends.
Since he wanted to marry her so badly, I decided to help him along.
“I saw your grandmother at the charity gala yesterday. She even told me I reminded her of her first love when she was young.”
Derek Stone said, holding his coffee cup, his voice buzzing with excitement. He grabbed my hand, his eyes gleaming with calculation.
“I want to pursue your grandmother.”
I was utterly shocked. “Are you insane? She’s forty years older than you!”
“Age is just a number! Besides, she doesn’t look a day over forty, not sixty-something at all.”
In my previous life, this was where I’d stopped him, sternly warning him to stay away from my grandmother. He’d given me a malicious grin.
“Alex Vance, who do you think you are? Why are you blocking my path?”
Later, Grandma married a man closer to our age, and they had a lavish wedding. Derek held a grudge and pushed me off a cliff.
“It’s all your fault for stopping me from marrying your grandmother! Everything should have been mine!”
But now, I just quietly watched the blatant greed in his eyes. My grandmother, Eleanor Vance, was the head of Vance Industries, worth hundreds of billions.
“You don’t object?”
Derek seemed surprised by my silence. I picked up my coffee cup, a meaningful smile playing on my lips.
“Why would I object?” I asked smoothly. “Everyone has the right to pursue happiness, and love shouldn’t be limited by age, right?”
His eyes lit up. Clearly, he hadn’t expected it to be so easy. Derek excitedly embraced me.
“That’s great! I knew you’d understand me!” He squeezed me tighter. “Don’t worry, once I’m your grandpa, I’ll take good care of you!”
Where he couldn’t see, my smile vanished completely. I whispered, “I wish you success.”
Grandma had already married eight grooms in the past decade, and he was about to become the ninth. What he didn’t know was that the previous eight grooms had all met untimely ends.
If he was so eager to die, I might as well help him along.
Leaving the coffee shop, I stood by the roadside, waiting for my driver. A black Mercedes slowly pulled up in front of me, revealing Mr. Davies, the butler’s, face.
“Young Master, the old lady wants you home for dinner tonight.”
“Got it,” I said, opening the car door and sliding in.
“Mr. Davies,” I began suddenly, “How has Grandma been lately?”
The old butler glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “The old lady is very healthy. Her check-up results last week came back twenty years younger than her actual age.”
I clenched my fists. In my previous life, I’d never doubted Grandma. Now, looking back, many things seemed incredibly suspicious. The most unsettling part was that whenever a groom died, Grandma was always on a business trip abroad, with a perfect alibi. And she’d always been disturbingly cold after their deaths.
During dinner, I observed Grandma. She truly did look much younger than her age.
“I hear you met the Stone boy today?”
My body tensed. How did Grandma know? Unless she’d been monitoring me, or Derek.
“Yes, Derek. He’s a good friend of mine.”
Grandma’s lips curved slightly. “He’s a very vibrant young man. My birthday party is in two days; you can invite him to come over tomorrow and stay until the end of the celebration.”
In my previous life, I’d desperately tried to prevent Derek from getting close to Grandma, so he’d never received a formal invitation from the Vance family.
“Alright,” I said, a pleased expression on my face.
After dinner, Grandma always took her usual stroll in the garden. I seized the opportunity to find the hidden compartment in her study. Mom had told me about it before she died, but I’d never opened it.
Behind the Bible on the third shelf, there was a hidden button. Pressing it revealed a small secret room. Inside, on a desk, lay a notebook and a safe. My hands trembling, I opened the notebook. What I saw almost made me scream.
It was a list, neatly documenting eight names, marriage dates, and death dates. Each name was accompanied by a photo, and I was horrified to discover that these men, to varying degrees, shared certain similarities. The shape of their eyes, the curve of their mouths, especially the last three—they were almost like replicas of the same type.
The last page bore a ninth name: Derek Stone. A red question mark was drawn next to it, and the date column was blank.
My gaze was drawn to the safe. A gut feeling told me it held an even more terrifying secret. But the safe required a fingerprint and a password; I couldn’t open it.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed outside the door. I slammed the notebook shut and darted behind the curtains. The study door opened, and Grandma and Mr. Davies walked in.
“The ninth one should be perfect,” Grandma’s voice was low and calm. “His birth attributes align perfectly.”
“We’ll finally have all nine. Bring that Derek Stone to see me tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After they left, I collapsed onto the floor, cold sweat soaking my back. Grandma knew about Derek, and she seemed to be actively planning something. Even more terrifying, she seemed to be conducting some kind of ritual that required nine… grooms?
The next day, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Derek.
“Alex! Amazing news! I got a formal invitation from your family! Can I come over and hang out today?”
I stared at the screen, slowly letting out a cold laugh. “Of course, I’d love for you to come.”
Derek stayed at Vance Manor for two days, and I did my best to create opportunities for him and Grandma to spend time alone.
On the day of the birthday party, basically all the prominent figures in the city were there. I stood in a corner, watching with cold eyes as Derek, arm-in-arm with Grandma, beamed with excitement. Their relationship was progressing quickly; it seemed both of them were rather impatient.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Grandma, Eleanor Vance, stood on the steps. She gently patted Derek’s hand, her voice calm yet commanding. “Thank you all for coming to my birthday celebration. Today, I have some joyous news to announce.”
The entire hall fell silent, all eyes fixed on them.
“Derek and I have fallen deeply for each other and decided to marry.”
“The wedding is set for three days from now. Everyone is welcome to attend.”
Though I’d expected it, hearing the words firsthand still made my heart involuntarily tremble. The guests paused for a moment in stunned silence, then burst into a chorus of polite, albeit hollow, congratulations. After all, a sixty-something business mogul marrying a young man in his twenties wasn’t uncommon in high society. With enough money, age was never an issue.
Derek wore a triumphant smile, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before finally settling on me. Was he flaunting it? I took a slow sip of champagne, my lips curving slightly. I even walked forward, my voice gentle.
“Congratulations, Grandma. Congratulations, Derek.”
Grandma nodded in satisfaction, while Derek squinted slightly, seemingly surprised by my composure. Then, he couldn’t wait to show his true colors.
“Oh, Alex,” he said, feigning intimacy as he clasped my hand, but his voice was deliberately loud, ensuring everyone nearby could hear. “Since I’m the future master of the Vance family now, there are some things I need to decide for you.”
“Oh? What things?”
He stared at me, enunciating each word. “Your engagement to Chloe Miller? It’s time to break it off.”
The Miller family, a long-standing ally of the Vance family. Chloe Miller, the sole daughter of the Miller family, and I had been betrothed since childhood. Though it was an arranged business marriage, Chloe had always been good to me. And now, Derek was actually trying to force me to break off the engagement?
Before I could speak, Grandma actually nodded. “Derek is right. The Miller family hasn’t been doing well lately; they’re no longer a suitable match for the Vance family. Alex, this engagement, let’s call it off.”
My breath hitched. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe standing nearby, her wine glass almost slipping from her grasp.
“Grandma,” I heard my voice tremble, “Chloe and my engagement was arranged by our ancestors…”
“That’s all in the past,” Grandma waved a dismissive hand. A server immediately brought her a cigar, and she took a deep puff. “What’s the Miller family’s situation now? Do they even match the Vance family anymore?”
Whispers started to ripple through the ballroom. I saw Chloe’s face turn instantly pale, while Derek smirked triumphantly at me.
“Grandma!” I dropped to my knees before her. “Please reconsider. Though the Miller family has fallen on hard times, Chloe is…”
*Smash!*
Derek suddenly swung his hand, knocking over a tray of red wine a server was carrying. The red wine poured down over my head.
Guests exchanged uneasy glances. Some snickered softly, others looked on with pity.
“Oops, my hand slipped,” he feigned surprise, covering his mouth. But then he leaned down, whispering in my ear so only I could hear, “Did you think groveling would do any good? Let me tell you, after tonight, you won’t even have the right to beg on your knees.”
I looked up at him in surprise.
“Enough!” Grandma flung my hand away. “This matter is settled!”
Chloe crushed her wine glass, staring intently at Derek.
As I went upstairs to change clothes, I saw Chloe and Derek embracing in the hallway corner.
“Derek, how was my acting? He even knelt for me!”
“Always walking around with your ‘fiancé’ title, it was getting annoying.”
My heart ached. I couldn’t believe they had been together all this time. My judgment truly was terrible.
“You disgusting pair!” I cursed.
Chloe chuckled. “Watching you grovel and beg was pathetic. Did you really think we’d get married?”
Derek laughed, pulling her closer. “Your woman’s been mine for ages.”
They were both sickening.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell Grandma?”
“Go ahead!” Derek scoffed, unafraid. “Let’s see who she believes: you, or me.”
“Once the old hag dies, everything in the Vance family will be ours,” Chloe fantasized, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“I thought we were best friends.”
Derek sneered. “Friends, huh? Don’t pretend here. In your eyes, I was just your dog. You’d throw me scraps when you pitied me. I’m sick of it!”
“Now I’m calling the shots, and you’ll do exactly as I say!”
I remembered back in college when Derek couldn’t afford tuition, I’d paid it for him. When he needed living expenses, I’d share whatever I ate with him. Later, when his mother fell gravely ill, I immediately had her admitted to the best hospital available.
And he saw all of that as contempt? I should’ve let him starve!
I laughed, a bitter, angry sound. “Then consider everything I did for you fed to the dogs.”
I wasn’t in a hurry, because soon, they would reap what they sowed.
After the birthday party, Derek officially moved into Vance Manor as the future master of the house. The first thing he did was claim my room.
“Alex, this room gets the best light, it’s perfect for me,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “You’ll be moving out soon anyway, why not get used to it early?”
I stood in the hallway, watching him calmly. “If you like it, it’s yours.”
He narrowed his eyes, seemingly annoyed by my compliance, then gave a dismissive laugh. “Oh, and by the way, my wife says your allowance will be managed by me from now on. After all, you’re not a child anymore, you should learn to be thrifty.”
He pulled a card from his expensive designer wallet and held it out to me. “Five thousand a month, is that enough?”
Five thousand dollars. That wasn’t even enough for a casual bracelet I used to buy. I reached out and took the card, a slight smile on my face. “Thank you, Grandpa.”
His expression froze for a moment, clearly stung by the address, but he quickly recovered his arrogant demeanor. “Good boy.”
I turned and walked to a guest room.
But the next day, Derek dragged me into his walk-in closet. “Alex, look, don’t my suits look great?”
He held out a brand new suit, hand-tailored by an Italian master, shimmering under the lights. I nodded. “Very sharp.”
He suddenly sighed, feigning regret. “Actually, I wanted to choose your father’s vintage suit, but Eleanor said it would be unlucky.”
My blood ran cold. He dared to bring up my father?
In my previous life, my father had died right here in Vance Manor, his death a complete mystery. His suit had been sealed in the Vance family’s vault, a place even I couldn’t easily access.
Derek tilted his head, enjoying my suddenly pale face. “No worries, though. My suit cost way more than your father’s, wouldn’t you say?”
I dug my nails into my palms, just barely managing to maintain a calm expression. “Yes,” I said softly, “I hope you live to wear it for a few more days.”
He froze, then burst out laughing. “Alex Vance, you’re not still thinking about revenge, are you?” He leaned closer. “Don’t forget, the entire Vance fortune is mine now.”
On the wedding day, Vance Manor was decorated with extravagant luxury. As the wedding march began, Derek, arm-in-arm with Grandma, slowly walked towards the priest. Guests applauded and congratulated them, while I stood in a corner, quietly watching it all.
When the priest opened the Bible and solemnly asked if they were willing, Grandma slowly looked up, her gaze not as gentle as usual, but rather holding a strange, chilling indifference.
“I do.”
As they exchanged rings, Mr. Davies, the butler, stepped forward, holding a delicate velvet box. Inside lay two rings embedded with blood-red gems. They placed them on each other’s fingers, completing the ceremony. I saw Grandma slowly let out a breath.
The next day, the butler came rushing to find me. “Young Master, something’s happened to Mr. Stone…”
“The old lady left for a business trip abroad last night…”
I returned to my old room, where Derek was screaming in the bathroom. Dark bruises bloomed on his collarbone, as if an invisible hand had brutally squeezed him. Seeing me, he immediately grabbed my arm.
“Alex, I didn’t hit anything last night! What’s going on?”
“Probably an allergic reaction,” I said airily.
Derek’s voice started to tremble. “Is your manor… haunted?”
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5 PM. I was spraying Clara’s favorite designer scent on the Italian leather sofa in the living room.
That small bottle cost me a month’s salary, but if she liked it, no price was too high.
6 PM. I carefully arranged the meticulously prepared French foie gras on the dining table.
7 PM sharp. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching cars zoom by on the street below, quietly waiting for my wife, Clara, to return—whenever that might be.
The clock struck midnight when Clara finally came home, reeking of alcohol.
I instinctively reached out to steady her.
She was disoriented by the drink. Her hand grazed my face, and she looked at me with tender eyes. “Asher, it’s so good you’re back…”
Before she could finish, she collapsed into my arms.
I smiled wryly. Guess I shouldn’t have held onto any hope.
Sighing, I expertly carried her into the bedroom. After making sure she was fast asleep, I gently closed the door.
I was pouring out the untouched foie gras when my phone vibrated. It was a message from Mrs. Sterling: “Asher, I heard Julian, the Sterling family’s son, is back from Silicon Valley today?”
I gazed out at the nightscape, my fingers trembling as I replied, “Yes, Mrs. Sterling.”
Mrs. Sterling’s reply popped up almost immediately: “You’ve been through so much these past three years. If Clara hadn’t… never mind. Let’s not talk about it. If you still want to pursue your studies in the US, I can arrange it.”
I gripped my phone, and the memory of that rainy night three years ago flashed before my eyes.
That night, I had just received my full-ride scholarship acceptance to MIT. I was so excited, I wanted to tell my foster mother first.
Instead, I found Clara utterly devastated at the Sterling family mansion.
Julian, the man she’d secretly loved for years, had left for Silicon Valley to start a business with his girlfriend of three months.
Clara was so heartbroken, she tried to end her life.
Mrs. Sterling found me and proposed a deal: I would give up MIT and pretend to be Clara’s boyfriend for three years.
In return, the Sterling family would send me to an even better school after the three years were up.
It was a trade: my dream for her life.
But I had no other choice. Ever since the car accident took my parents, the Sterling family had taken me in.
For so many years, Mrs. Sterling had provided for me, never letting me want for anything.
When she made that request, I couldn’t refuse.
And so, I abandoned my dream and began to play the role of the perfect boyfriend.
I went shopping with her, cooked her meals, and memorized all her likes and dislikes.
But wounds in love aren’t so easy to heal.
Thankfully, with my constant presence, Clara gradually emerged from the shadow of heartbreak.
She slowly began to live like a normal person again, eating, sleeping, socializing.
She seemed to rely on me heavily, wanting me to accompany her everywhere.
But I knew she was just used to my existence. She never truly loved me.
Every time Julian posted updates with his girlfriend on social media, she would lock herself in her room and cry all night.
I could only stand outside her door, listening to her muffled sobs.
Then, three winters ago, Julian’s startup received venture capital funding and was featured in Forbes.
Clara flew to Silicon Valley, excitedly planning a lavish party, inviting all her friends in the circle.
She dressed up splendidly, her sole purpose being to see Julian. But Julian didn’t show up.
His excuse was flimsy: he had to take his girlfriend out for hotpot.
Clara abandoned all her guests, asking me to take her searching for a hotpot restaurant in the freezing San Francisco snow.
She was drunk, and I was used to her emotional outbursts.
All I could do was comfort her.
During our argument, Clara accidentally dropped her bracelet into the boiling red broth. That bracelet had been on her wrist since we first met.
I watched Clara frantically reach for it, but I plunged my hand into the scorching hot pot first, retrieving the bracelet for her.
By the time Clara reacted, the hand I used to grab the bracelet was already scalded crimson, covered in large blisters.
Clara finally seemed moved. She embraced me, sobbing, “Asher, let’s get married.”
Later, I found out that bracelet was Julian’s eighteenth birthday gift to Clara.
That’s why, after I retrieved it, she immediately sent it for cleaning, not even bothering to accompany me to the hospital.
For three years, she had merely treated me as Julian’s stand-in.
Now, the three-year agreement was up. Julian had divorced his wife and returned home.
Clara was radiating a newfound glow.
I knew my mission was complete.
Gazing at the city lights outside the window, I replied to Mrs. Sterling: “Okay, thank you for your trouble.”
Putting down my phone, I packed my luggage.
On the coffee table sat Clara’s favorite perfume. I gently touched it, then let my hand drop.
At 3 AM, Clara emerged from the bedroom. “Asher, I’m hungry.”
She was engrossed in her phone until she bumped into the suitcase in front of her. Only then did she ask, “What are you packing for?”
My tone was calm. “A business trip.”
Clara didn’t even look up, continuing her query. “Where to?”
I stood up, preparing to cook her some noodles in the kitchen.
“San Francisco.”
Hearing “San Francisco,” Clara’s brows furrowed.
But soon, her attention was re-captured by a message from Julian.
She casually remarked, “Asher, don’t bring me anything back from this trip. You know I hate everything about San Francisco.”
My knife slipped, cutting my index finger. A few beads of blood welled up.
I gave a bitter laugh, grabbing a tissue to hastily wipe it away.
*I thought.*
Clara and I would always be from two different worlds.
What I desperately pursued was precisely what she despised.
Now, finally, we could each find our own joy.
The man she loved had returned to the place she loved. The man she hated was finally heading to the place she hated.
Everything was as she wished.
From now on, let these three years be a dazzling accident on my journey to chasing my dreams.
**Chapter 2**
“What are you looking at? So engrossed you’ve forgotten breakfast?”
Clara prompted, finding me staring blankly at my phone.
I quickly pressed the lock button. The留学 application materials from Mrs. Sterling were still on the chat screen.
“Okay, I’m going.”
I busied myself in the kitchen.
Clara’s laughter drifted in from the living room. She was probably on a FaceTime call with Julian again.
Ever since Julian’s return, she had been radiant, even dressing up lavishly at home.
When Clara, dressed and in ten-centimeter heels, arrived at the dining room, she frowned at the American-style breakfast on the table. “Why isn’t it Western today? You know I have an important meeting.”
I handed her a glass of juice. “My stomach hasn’t been feeling great lately. Thought you might need an adjustment too.”
What I didn’t say was that I wanted to enjoy a few more traditional American breakfasts. Once I went abroad, I wouldn’t be able to find such authentic ones.
Mrs. Sterling’s assistant was always efficient; they’d even booked an apartment for me near MIT.
Clara casually “oh-ed,” her fingers rapidly swiping on her phone.
Julian had just posted a picture on Ins—a sunrise I’d captured during my morning run.
I opened my briefcase and pulled out a document.
I had drafted this divorce agreement for a long time, meticulously ensuring no oversight would affect her interests.
“Clara, please sign this.”
“Mm.”
She didn’t look up, carelessly scrawling a circle on the paper with her right hand.
I watched her signature, then softly said, “I’m leaving next week.”
“Okay.”
She was still absorbed in typing.
I couldn’t help but ask, “Do you know what you just signed?”
“A project contract,”
She finally looked up. “Didn’t you say that charity project in the local community needed my signature?”
I smiled. “Yes, that’s the one.”
I put the agreement away, watching her rush out the door, a hint of bitterness in my eyes.
She had already signed the local community project last month.
In the afternoon, I visited the charity project.
This was what I was most proud of over the past three years.
Using my own salary, I had set up a free after-school arts program for underprivileged children in an underserved part of the city.
“Mr. Asher is going abroad?”
The children gathered around me, their eyes filled with reluctance.
I smiled, patting their heads. “Yes, Mr. Asher is going abroad to study. When I come back, I’ll teach you how to paint even more beautiful pictures.”
Mr. Davis, the principal, clapped me on the shoulder. “What about Ms. Clara?
She always said she wanted to visit.”
I looked at the children’s drawings on the wall. One of them was a casual doodle Clara had made last year.
She had said she would come teach the children how to paint “someday,” but that “someday” never came.
“We’re divorced,”
I said softly.
Mr. Davis sighed. “I told you. If she was truly sincere, how could she never visit, despite all your efforts?
Asher, if you can’t hold onto a relationship, letting go is for the best.”
I smiled and nodded.
Yes, letting go was liberation.
As I turned, I noticed a new painting in the corner: a girl gazing up at the stars.
Clara loved stargazing. Whenever she saw a sky full of stars, she would stop and watch for a long time.
So, I had specifically asked Mr. Davis to hire an artist to paint this starscape for her.
It was much later that I realized Clara wasn’t the one who truly loved stargazing.
It was just that Julian did, and she loved what he loved.
I heard my own bitter voice say:
“Leave this painting here.”
**Chapter 3**
I stood in the walk-in closet, my fingers lightly tracing the custom-tailored designer suits.
When I moved into this apartment three years ago, Mrs. Sterling had insisted on getting me a full set of luxury items.
“You must match Clara’s status,”
she had said.
Aside from that, my wardrobe hadn’t seen a new addition in years.
Clara’s closet, however, had an entire wall dedicated solely to Chanel.
I took the suits down, folded them neatly, and placed them in a cardboard box.
I wouldn’t take anything the Sterling family had given me.
Just then, my phone vibrated. It was a confirmation from the auction house: the artworks I had given Clara over the years were officially going up for auction today.
Oil paintings, sculptures, limited-edition photography collections… each piece was something I had poured my heart into, carefully chosen.
Unfortunately, their ultimate destination had been Clara’s storage room.
Some, she hadn’t even glanced at.
The roar of a sports car echoed from downstairs. I walked to the balcony and saw a bright red Ferrari parked at the entrance.
Brooke stepped out, her studded high heels clicking sharply as she walked with a determined stride.
“Well, well, isn’t this the Sterling family’s spineless loser?”
Brooke yelled from downstairs. “I heard you sent all those artworks to auction? What right do you have to dispose of my sister’s things?”
I turned to leave, but Brooke’s voice grew even sharper: “Don’t try to act so noble! If you weren’t so useful back then, would you have even gotten through the Sterling family’s door? Now Julian’s back, and you’re showing your true colors, aren’t you?”
I stopped, turning back to give her a cool glance.
My sister-in-law had always looked down on me, thinking I was nothing more than an opportunist who latched onto the Sterling family.
A Bentley slowly pulled up beside the Ferrari.
Julian stepped out of the car, his composed demeanor a stark contrast to Brooke’s flamboyance.
“Brooke,”
Julian said gently, “Asher is still your brother-in-law. You’re being disrespectful.”
“What brother-in-law!”
Brooke scoffed, pouting. “Julian, you have no idea how much my sister has missed you all these years.
You know she hates San Francisco, but she still went every three months? Wasn’t it all because…”
Julian gently shook his head, cutting her off.
I looked up at him, my gaze complex.
This was my first time seeing Julian, and I finally understood why Clara loved him so deeply.
His eyes seemed to hold constellations, drawing one in unconsciously.
“Asher.”
Clara’s voice suddenly came from behind me. She seemed to have something to say to me, but the moment she saw Julian, she cut herself off.
She hurried over to Julian, completely forgetting what she was going to tell me.
“Julian, is your apartment renovated? Why don’t you stay here first?”
Her voice held anticipation. “There are plenty of empty rooms anyway.”
Julian seemed a bit hesitant. “Is that… appropriate?”
“What’s inappropriate?”
Clara laughed. “You won’t mind, right?”
She asked, without looking back at me.
I looked at her profile, which was alight with undisguised joy.
“No,” I said softly. “I’ll go prepare the guest room right away.”
Anyway, I had already handled the property division for this villa. It would eventually be returned to Clara.
The thought flashed through my mind, and I gave a self-deprecating smile.
So many years, and still empty-handed.
But at least, the most difficult debt of gratitude, I had repaid.
As I entered the guest room, I saw our wedding photo still on the nightstand.
In the picture, Clara smiled radiantly, but that smile was never meant for me.
**Chapter 4**
“Asher, can you make me some pasta tonight?”
Clara stood at the kitchen doorway, her tone light. “Julian said he wants to try your cooking.”
I glanced at my right hand, then said coolly, “Sorry, not tonight.”
It was the first time I had refused Clara’s request.
The kitchen fell silent, even the drip of the faucet sounding unusually clear.
Julian heard her and walked over, standing behind Clara. “I was presumptuous. If Asher is busy, then…”
“What’s he busy with?”
Brooke interjected angrily. “He used to cook no matter how late we came home. Why’s he putting on an act now?”
I raised my right hand, my knuckles covered with a medical bandage. “Cut myself.”
I was indeed injured, but it wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t cook.
But I simply didn’t want to anymore.
The contract had expired. I no longer wanted to play the role of a gentle, considerate puppet husband.
This excuse allowed me to stop wasting my energy in the kitchen.
Clara froze, finally noticing the injury on my hand.
Before, I always handled everything at home myself. The housekeeper only came for scheduled cleanings.
“Then… let’s eat out tonight,”
Julian suggested gently. “I remember that Michelin restaurant at the creative park is quite good.”
Brooke immediately chimed in, “Exactly! Julian knows best when it comes to food.
Unlike some people, who only know how to make my sister those plain homemade dishes all year round.”
I quietly stood up, preparing to go back to my room.
Clara called out, “You should come too.”
In the car, Clara drove her custom Porsche, with Julian in the passenger seat, occasionally sharing amusing anecdotes from Silicon Valley.
Brooke sat in the back, interjecting occasionally with comments.
I gazed silently at the neon lights blurring past the window.
“Asher, don’t you like to chat?”
Julian asked, turning back.
“My apologies,”
I smiled politely. “I’m not very familiar with Silicon Valley.”
“We’re being inconsiderate,” Julian said gently. “We keep talking about topics you’re not familiar with.”
Clara glanced at me in the rearview mirror.
After three years, it seemed she was noticing for the first time how obvious the fatigue in my eyes was.
At the restaurant, Julian ordered a bottle of ’82 Lafite.
Brooke, glass in hand, talked incessantly about celebrity gossip.
Julian occasionally responded, his gaze frequently drifting to Clara.
“Does this dish contain cheese?” Clara asked the waiter, pointing to a dish Julian had just ordered.
After the waiter’s affirmative reply, Clara blurted out, “Change it to white mushroom sauce. He’s allergic to dairy.”
Julian smiled at her. “You still remember after all these years.”
Clara smiled awkwardly, then turned to meet my calm gaze. She instinctively explained:
“It’s just habit.”
After I silently nodded, she asked:
“Is there anything you don’t eat?”
My voice was faint. “No.”
Actually, there was. I couldn’t eat mushrooms.
In all our years of marriage, I had cooked countless meals for her, varied dishes, using all sorts of ingredients.
The one thing that never appeared was mushrooms.
Even if she’d paid a little attention, she would have noticed.
But she could remember Julian’s allergies, yet she spared no observation for me.
I knew her too well.
*Sigh,* just for old times’ sake, I’d give her a break before I left. No need to spoil the mood.
Seeing the atmosphere turn heavy, Brooke immediately jumped in: “Of course my sister remembers! Back when we were in school…”
Before she could finish, a quarrel suddenly erupted at the next table.
Two drunken men confronted each other, ties pulled tight, bottles and cutlery clashing with an ear-splitting clang.
One of the men suddenly grabbed a red wine bottle from the table.
With a loud “CRASH,” the bottle shattered against the wall, shards and wine splashing everywhere.
“Watch out!”
Clara instinctively lunged towards Julian, shielding him in her arms.
I reacted a beat too late.
Blinding red exploded before my eyes, wine mixed with glass shards, raining down on me…
**Chapter 5**
“Ah!”
In that split second, I instinctively spun around.
Glass shards and red wine soaked my shirt, my back stinging with a fiery pain.
Several fragments had cut through my skin, and warm blood oozed out.
“Asher!”
Clara finally snapped back, quickly releasing Julian. “Are you okay?
I’ll take you to the hospital!”
I managed a strained smile, but I didn’t even have the strength to speak.
“Julian, your hand!”
Brooke suddenly shrieked.
I looked up to see a faint scratch on Julian’s wrist, barely bleeding.
Clara immediately turned, anxiously checking Julian’s injury. “Is it serious?
I’ll call an ambulance right away!”
Julian gently shook his head. “I’m fine. Asher is more seriously injured, you should first…”
“Julian, don’t be brave!”
Brooke stamped her foot in frustration. “Your hands are for coding, they can’t have any damage!
Sis, hurry and take Julian to the hospital!”
Julian tried to say something else, but Clara cut him off. “Brooke’s right, your hands are the most important.”
She glanced back at me hurriedly. “You can just take a taxi to the hospital yourself. It’s very close to Royal Hospital.”
I leaned back in the chair, watching the three of them hurry away, and suddenly laughed.
A waiter rushed over to help me with my wounds, apologizing profusely while handing me the restaurant’s first aid kit.
In the hallway of Royal Hospital, nurses pushed medication carts past, their chatter drifting into the room:
“Ms. Sterling truly spoils him. Mr. Julian’s little scratch, and she booked out the entire dermatology department.”
“Right? I heard she even flew in a specialist from Hong Kong, just to prevent scarring.”
“Tsk, tsk, I wonder who married her. Her husband is truly lucky…”
I lowered my gaze to the bandage on my arm, chuckling self-deprecatingly.
Leaving her severely injured husband of many years to attend to someone else’s minor scratch? Yes, with a wife like that, I was indeed “lucky.”
After my wounds were treated, I didn’t return to the apartment. Instead, I went directly to my studio in the city’s outskirts.
This was my last haven. Over the years, to be with Clara, I had given up countless opportunities to code through the night.
Now, it was time to embrace coding again.
The studio still maintained my habits—two monitors, one on each side, the mechanical keyboard keys slightly yellowed, and days-old coffee stains settled in the glass on the desk.
I turned on the computer, and the familiar interface lit up in the darkness.
My phone vibrated. It was an email from MIT, reminding me to submit an open-source project as part of my portfolio for enrollment.
I peeled off the gauze from my wrist, my fingertips gliding lightly over the keyboard, as if reaffirming a long-lost sensation.
Morning light filtered through the blinds, casting tiny specks of light on the monitors.
Here, there were no Sterling family rules, no Brooke’s scornful glances, and certainly no Clara’s undisguised affection for Julian.
Only the blinking cursor in the code editor, and the sound of my fingers on the keyboard.
My fingers flew across the keyboard, code streaming across the screen like a river.
I was immersed in the world of programming, forgetting the passage of time.
Three days later, I finally completed the project.
After pushing the repository code, I remembered to check my phone.
The screen was instantly flooded with messages: 39 missed calls, all from Clara.
This had never happened before.
Normally, I was the one glued to my phone, waiting for her occasional response.
As I was still surprised, Brooke’s call came in: “Asher! Where have you been all these days?
My sister’s been frantic looking for you!
What kind of game are you playing now? Do you think this will make my sister truly care about you? Dream on! The Sterling family’s son-in-law can only be Julian!”
The call ended, and I frowned.
Clara frantically looking for me? Why?
**Chapter 6**
When I returned to the villa, Martha, the housekeeper, immediately crowded around me.
“Mr. Asher! You’re finally back!”
Martha was almost in tears. “Without you these past few days, the house has been a mess.
The coffee we brewed for Mrs. Sterling was either too bitter or too weak, and she said even the folded clothes weren’t neat enough…”
I nodded slightly.
So that was it. She was looking for me because of inconvenience in her daily life.
The living room was dim. Clara sat alone by the floor-to-ceiling window.
Moonlight outlined her elegant silhouette, but it also highlighted her haughty demeanor even more.
“Where have you been?”
She asked without turning her head.
“The studio.”
I put down my backpack.
Clara frowned. “Since when are you so passionate about coding?”
I didn’t explain.
She didn’t know I was supposed to be a top student at MIT, if not for giving up the chance to enroll because of her.
Perhaps the one shining brightly in Silicon Valley would have been me.
“That day, I didn’t mean to leave you behind,”
Clara rubbed her temples. “Julian has always been delicate since childhood, unable to endure any injury.
We grew up together, and taking care of him has become a habit.”
She paused. “And I’ve already moved to a hotel. Don’t be mad anymore.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
In her eyes, I was making a big deal out of nothing, forcing her beloved Julian away.
“I’m going upstairs.”
I turned to leave.
“Asher.”
Clara called out to me. “I’m hungry. Can you make me a bowl of noodles, like the one you made the night I came home drunk?
Those noodles tasted really good.”
Yes, they were good, because that was the last bowl of noodles I’d ever cooked for Clara.
I raised my bandaged hand. “Did you forget? I’m injured.”
Clara froze.
It was the first time I had ever refused her request.
The next day, as I stepped out of the elevator, I saw Clara waiting at the door with a gift box.
“I wasn’t thinking clearly that day,”
She handed me the gift box. “This is compensation.”
I looked at the Patek Philippe watch inside the box and suddenly felt a pang of irony.
Three years. This was the first time she had ever given me a gift.
And it was out of guilt, because she was busy taking care of Julian and had neglected me.
Seeing me hesitate to take it, Clara added, “I’ve been busy with Julian’s affairs lately, so I just asked my assistant to pick out the most expensive one.
If you don’t like it…”
“Julian! What are you doing here?”
Brooke’s voice suddenly rang out from the doorway.
“Just passing by.”
Julian smiled gently, his gaze falling on the box. “Isn’t that the limited edition watch from the auction recently? I remember I even commented then…”
Brooke’s eyes lit up. “Right! Julian, didn’t you say you really liked this series?”
Julian quickly waved his hand, but couldn’t hide the longing in his eyes.
I glanced at Clara’s conflicted expression, then took the gift box directly from her hand and offered it to Julian. “Since it was bought for you, you should keep it.”
Clara’s stunned gaze bypassed Julian for the first time, landing on my face.
It was clear I didn’t have even a hint of desire for that limited edition watch.
I had changed, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint what was different.
Clara searched her memories for a long time, but found no answer.
Because her memories of me were so few; she rarely focused her attention on me.
I was like her shadow; wherever she went, I followed.
Whatever she needed, I would provide.
But I still stood here now, yet I was different from before.
I seemed to have finally let go of something, and she seemed to have lost something.
**Chapter 7**
The day before I left, I packed my sorted luggage into the car Mrs. Sterling had arranged to pick me up.
In the trunk, there was also a new suit, sent by Clara’s assistant. Tonight was Clara’s welcome party for Julian, and Clara had invited me to attend.
I looked at the custom suit and suddenly felt a pang of irony.
The divorce papers were signed, yet she still wanted me to appear as her husband.
I wanted to refuse, but remembering Mrs. Sterling’s care over the years, and knowing my MIT admission documents were still with her, I changed into the suit and went to the Sterling mansion.
The champagne tower shimmered softly under the crystal chandelier. Amidst the clinking glasses, people crowded around Julian.
“Julian, this watch is a global limited edition!”
“Exactly! I heard a rich man was bidding frantically at the auction, but it turns out our Ms. Sterling bought it specially for you!”
“So romantic! This series symbolizes ‘one of a kind’.”
“Julian, Ms. Sterling truly loves you!”
Someone laughed. “Remember college? You caught a cold, and she made you soup every day for a week.”
“That’s right, Julian, when you went abroad to start your business, she secretly flew over every month to see you.”
“Yeah,” another person chimed in, “You two are a match made in heaven. Mrs. Sterling’s current husband is just a placeholder. You two should just…”
“Get together!”
“Get together! Get together!…” The crowd started chanting.
I leaned in a corner, quietly listening to these people talk about how deeply my wife loved another man.
“Asher.”
Mrs. Sterling’s voice sounded behind me.
I turned, opening my mouth to say “Mom,” but changed it to “Mrs. Sterling.”
Mrs. Sterling sighed. She had watched me grow up and knew I had always been a resilient person. That’s why, when Clara was at her lowest, she had chosen me to help Clara through it.
She held out a file folder to me. “Your MIT admission documents are all here. I’ve also booked your flight, taking off in three hours.
If you find it difficult to adjust over there, you can always come back, okay?”
My hand trembled slightly as I took the documents. I knew what Mrs. Sterling meant.
I wasn’t an ungrateful person.
But this document had arrived so many years late. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of emotion.
I couldn’t tell this woman, who had raised me, that once I left, I didn’t intend to return.
This place held too many painful memories for me.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “Just one small request: if Clara ever asks about my whereabouts in the future, please don’t tell her.”
“You haven’t told her you’re leaving?” Mrs. Sterling asked, surprised.
I didn’t know how to answer that question.
I had indeed told her—when I was leaving, and where.
The rest was unnecessary to tell her.
Besides, she wouldn’t care.
Her childhood crush was back. Whether I left or stayed would be an insignificant change to her vibrant life.
“What’s leaving?”
Clara’s voice suddenly cut through.
I froze, unsure how much she had heard.
Thankfully, Mrs. Sterling smoothly interjected, “Nothing, dear. Why are you over here?”
“Mom, it’s time to cut the cake.”
“I’m feeling a bit unwell,”
Mrs. Sterling rubbed her temples. “You two go ahead.”
Clara extended her hand to me. “Come with me?”
I held up my bandaged hand. “No, you should ask Julian.”
She frowned. “You’re my husband. Why should I ask him?”
I smiled.
Hadn’t she always abandoned me to go find Julian all these years?
Now that I was stepping aside willingly, she found it strange.
“Aren’t you two good friends?”
I said softly. “It’s just cutting a cake.”
Clara looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, then finally turned and walked towards Julian.
It was Julian’s party anyway, so I was generous. I simply took Clara’s hand and cut the cake.
Clara was so close to me, the warmth from the back of my hand spreading to hers, making her feel flushed.
The guests started to egg them on again: “Golden couple, a kiss!”
Julian lowered his head at their encouragement, his ear tips red, but he never let go of Clara’s hand.
Clara looked at Julian, a fleeting trance in her eyes. The noisy clamor around her made her feel like she was back in her teenage years.
This time, she was so close to the man of her dreams.
I looked at the perfect couple on stage and let out a self-deprecating laugh.
My phone alarm rang, drowned out by the boisterous cheers.
I turned off the alarm, took off my suit jacket, draped it over the chair, and stood up to leave.
My flight was in three hours; if I didn’t leave now, I’d miss it.
**Chapter 8**
The moment I stood up, Brooke and a few others surrounded me.
The mix of perfume and champagne fumes made me feel almost nauseous.
Brooke was the first to provoke. “Asher, what are you even trying to gain?”
Brooke swirled her wine glass. “My sister and Julian are a match made in heaven. No matter how much you pretend to be deeply in love, you’ll still just be here watching us flirt.”
“If you were smart, you’d have left on your own,”
Someone sneered. “If Julian hadn’t insisted on going to Silicon Valley back then, do you think someone like you would have been worthy of marrying my sister?”
I glanced at my phone. Time was ticking away. I didn’t want to get tangled up with Brooke any longer.
I sidestepped, avoiding Brooke’s aggressive stance, and turned to leave.
“Are you trying to act tough?” Brooke grabbed me.
I lost my balance and crashed into the champagne tower behind me.
Amidst the sound of shattering glass, blood bloomed on my white shirt.
The entire hall fell silent instantly.
Clara ran over from the stage, her face ashen. “Who did this?”
No one spoke. Brooke pouted, her eyes darting nervously.
Clara stepped forward to help me up from the disarray, her gaze fixed on Brooke. She was about to reprimand her.
“Julian!!”
A voice suddenly shouted. “Julian fainted!”
Clara’s hand, still holding me, froze. Her brows furrowed, and she peered towards the main stage.
I let out a soft laugh, gently pulling my arm from her grasp. “He’s always been delicate since he was a child, couldn’t endure any hardship. Go on, go see how he is…”
“But you…”
“I’m fine,”
I struggled to stand. “The doctor should see him first anyway. I can manage myself.”
Clara looked at me, momentarily lost.
*Since when did I become so distant?*
But she had no time to ponder. Julian had already collapsed, and she couldn’t stay here to analyze my thoughts.
Clara bit her lip. “Asher, I’ll make it up to you later.”
With that, she turned and scurried off to Julian’s side.
I watched her gently comforting Julian from behind, my smile bitter.
Brooke’s mocking voice rang in my ear: “See? No matter how pathetic you act, my sister still chose Julian.”
I ignored her. I went to the restroom, quickly dealt with my injuries, changed my clothes, and left.
When I opened the door, Brooke was standing outside with a small bag of medicine. “My sister sent these.”
“Honestly, she should be taking care of Julian, but she’s still thinking about you…”
“No need,” I sidestepped her and walked straight downstairs. “Keep them for Julian.”
Brooke angrily chased me down, only to see me open the car trunk, revealing two suitcases.
Her face instantly changed. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t recall you caring that much about me,” I retorted without ceremony, closing the trunk.
Just as I was about to get into the passenger seat, Brooke grabbed my arm:
“Explain yourself! Where exactly are you going?”
I brushed her arm away, stating plainly, “I’m leaving.”
“Didn’t you always find me in the way? Now I’ve willingly divorced, making space for Julian. You should be happy.”
“You… what kind of act is this?”
Brooke’s voice trembled. “You were the one who shamelessly clung on back then. Now you’re playing hard to get with my sister?”
I opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat. Before closing the door, I said to the persistent Brooke:
“The divorce papers are on the coffee table. Go see for yourself, and you’ll know everything.”
I looked at her hand, still trying to prevent me from closing the door. “Why so many questions? Do you not want me to leave??”
Brooke recoiled as if shocked. “How could that be! I’ve been wishing you’d disappear forever! My sister will be absolutely thrilled!”
The last sentence she uttered without much conviction.
“Then congratulations on getting your wish,” I said, about to close the car door.
“Wait!” Brooke called out again. “Do you… have nothing to say to my sister?”
I silently closed the car door.
To complete the mission, I pretended to be deeply in love, becoming the ‘shameless poor guy’ they spoke of.
To maintain this lie, I threw away my dreams, my dignity, and even myself.
Three years. I could finally be myself again.
I rolled down the window and offered Brooke a relieved smile.
“No. Clara will no longer be a part of my life.”
**Chapter 9**
After Julian was taken to the hospital that day, Clara didn’t see me again.
She was completely focused on Julian, so she didn’t feel anything was amiss.
But it wasn’t until Julian was discharged today, and Brooke drove them back to the villa, that she suddenly realized she hadn’t seen me in a long time.
She irritably opened her SnapChat.
Her chat history with me stopped on the day Julian returned home, when she went out to dinner with me.
Actually, she and Julian had finished dinner at nine that night.
It was her inability to suppress her excitement that prompted her to convince Julian to go to a bar for drinks.
Both Julian and she drank too much. She had many opportunities to get closer to Julian, but for some reason, she didn’t. Instead, as if by some strange impulse, she returned to the home she shared with me.
It seemed she only felt safe when I was there.
Her fingers flew across the screen, sending me a message, wanting to ask where I had gone.
But after sending it, she suddenly remembered that I had mentioned going to San Francisco for a business trip.
She irritably recalled the message.
She thought, *I’m always clingy, always texting her every day. This time, I’m just throwing a tantrum, jealous of Julian, so I’m deliberately giving her the cold shoulder.*
Although I had always been gentle with her, Clara always knew I was a very stubborn person.
Clara irritably ran her fingers through her hair.
She told herself not to falter in this cold war. I loved her so much; once my anger subsided, she could just coax me, and everything would be fine.
Otherwise, if I got worse, it would be even harder to deal with.
Clara thought this, stubbornly holding out for a month without sending me a single message.
When Brooke walked into the villa, she was shocked by the scattered empty wine bottles on the floor.
She remembered Clara’s last outburst was when Julian left for Silicon Valley.
She kicked aside the beer bottles and said to Clara,
“Sis, Julian’s back. Why are you acting crazy again? Are you celebrating finally divorcing him?”
Clara snapped her head up. “What did you say?”
Brooke flinched backward but still mustered the courage to say, “He’s already divorced you, and you don’t even like him, so why aren’t you with Julian?”
“How do you know about our divorce?”
Clara’s voice turned cold.
“It was that day… you asked me to bring him medicine,” Brooke swallowed. “I saw the divorce papers. I thought he was just being difficult, but he hasn’t come back in so many days…”
Clara’s fingers tightened around the wine bottle in her hand.
“The divorce papers? Where did you put them?”
Brooke looked at the terrifying expression on Clara’s face and forced a smile that was uglier than a cry:
“I just put them in the coffee table drawer. How was I supposed to know you two divorced, and you didn’t even know.”
Clara yanked open the drawer. Inside lay the divorce papers. She didn’t even look at them, tearing them to shreds immediately.
She had always thought I loved her unconditionally, but now I dared to initiate a divorce?
She had indulged me too much all these years.
“Call Asher and tell him to stop being childish and come back,” she told the butler.
The butler spoke with difficulty. “We tried, but the phone isn’t connecting…”
Clara frantically scrolled through her phone contacts, only to realize that after years of marriage, she hadn’t even saved my number.
She switched back to SnapChat. The message she had sent now showed a red exclamation mark.
Angrily, she dialed the number she got from the butler, but a cold automated voice announced, “The user you have dialed has canceled their account…”
I had even canceled my phone number!
She abruptly stood up and rushed out the door, not even hearing Brooke’s shouts from behind her.
She floored the accelerator until the red light brought her to a halt, and only then did she calm down.
Where could an orphan like me, who had been adopted, go?
She turned the car around and drove toward the welfare training institution I had mentioned before.
That was the only thing in her memory connected to me.
Mr. Davis’s face noticeably chilled when he saw her.
After having the assistant take the students away, he sat down. “Ms. Clara, how can I help you?”
“I wanted to ask where Asher went. He…”
She had meant to say the house was a mess without me, but swallowed the words.
A flicker of sarcasm crossed Mr. Davis’s eyes. Three years, and she still called me by my full name, so distantly.
He felt fortunate for me; a wife like that was better off without.
“Ms. Clara, if you don’t even know where your own husband went, how would I, an outsider, know?”
Mr. Davis said without looking up. “Please leave.”
Back in her car, Clara slammed her fist on the steering wheel.
She had thought I was just throwing a fit.
But my canceling my phone and disappearing were clearly premeditated.
Why?
*Why would he leave so decisively when he loved me so much?*
Her phone suddenly rang.
It was Mrs. Sterling.
“Clara, come home. Your mom has something to tell you.”
Although she wasn’t particularly close to Mrs. Sterling, Clara always listened to her.
Hearing that Mrs. Sterling had something to say, Clara assumed it was news about me.
Without hesitation, she drove back to the old mansion.
Seeing the urgency on Clara’s face, Mrs. Sterling assumed her guess was correct and spoke directly:
“Clara, since you’ve divorced him, and Julian is back home…”
Mrs. Sterling’s voice trailed off as Clara’s expression grew darker and darker.
“Mom,” Clara interrupted, a hint of irritation in her voice. “I didn’t agree to the divorce.”
“He just… disappeared on his own.”
Mrs. Sterling froze. She didn’t understand Clara’s attitude towards me.
She pulled out a red document from the drawer. “But… your divorce certificate is already processed.”
**Chapter 10**
Clara snatched the divorce certificate from her hand, her eyes wide with shock and confusion.
Mrs. Sterling looked at the confusion in her daughter’s eyes and was startled.
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My family is clearly the wealthiest in New York, but even for an $8 takeout order, I still click “refund only.”
That’s because in my past life, my family’s housekeeper Evie Hudson’s daughter Ivy Robertson had bound herself to some kind of transaction system. Every dollar I spent would end up in her pocket.
So Ivy started using moral blackmail to pressure me into donating to all the underprivileged students at school.
I thought it was a good deed, so I didn’t think twice about it and wrote a check for $2 million straight away.
But somehow, that money magically became Ivy’s deposit, while my check showed an amount of zero.
Everyone called me a fraud, and even the man I was keeping broke up with me.
But Ivy used the money I had spent to do good deeds and make donations everywhere, becoming the “beautiful, kind-hearted rich person” in everyone’s eyes. She even turned around and slandered me, claiming I was the housekeeper’s daughter.
I was so furious that I pulled out my black card and went on a shopping spree, trying to prove I had money, only to discover the card’s limit had been instantly drained.
Meanwhile, Ivy generously transferred $8 million and mocked me: “You’re broke but still trying to act rich. Does your mom’s housekeeper salary give you enough to keep up this charade?”
I faced online harassment like never before. Unable to handle the pressure, I had a complete mental breakdown.
And for some reason, my body quickly deteriorated too. I died before my father Archie Robertson could come save me.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Ivy pressured me to donate to all the underprivileged students at school.
*****
A girl said, “Amelia, you’re so vain. You’re just a housekeeper’s daughter, yet you insist on pretending to be rich and donating to underprivileged students.” Amelia Robertson is my name.
Another girl chimed in, “Exactly! If Miss Robertson hadn’t kindly covered that $2 million for you today, you’d be a complete fraud.
“You better apologize to Miss Robertson right now. Otherwise, I’m taking you straight to the police station!”
The chorus of accusations rang in my ears. It wasn’t until everyone started pushing and shoving me that I snapped back to reality.
Looking at the angry faces of my classmates, I finally realized I had truly been reborn.
And I was right back on the day Ivy used that transaction system to manipulate me into donating to all the underprivileged students at school.
Just moments ago, the $2 million check I had personally donated suddenly turned into a blank check.
But Ivy immediately transferred the exact same amount as a donation, then turned around and slandered me, claiming I was the housekeeper’s daughter.
Seeing my silence, Ivy immediately rushed forward.
She put on a caring act and urged me, “Amelia, I’ve overlooked you stealing my haute couture dresses and limited edition bags. But now you dare to commit donation fraud in public?
“Since you can’t actually donate any money to everyone anyway, just admit your mistake and apologize. Otherwise, I won’t be able to protect you anymore.”
Looking at the calculation in Ivy’s eyes, I knew she was deliberately trying to provoke me with her words.
In my past life, I had indeed acted impulsively.
I was so angry that I pulled out my black card, told the underprivileged students to spend freely, and promised to donate however much they spent.
But just as the underprivileged students swore to max out the black card and happily went to pay, the POS machine suddenly issued a warning.
Then a mechanical female voice announced: “Insufficient funds on this card. Please try again.”
Meanwhile, Ivy generously transferred over ten million dollars and promised to cover all the underprivileged students’ expenses.
In an instant, I became everyone’s most hated person, while Ivy became the beautiful, kind-hearted rich person.
Just as I was thinking about how to break out of this predicament, my boyfriend James Simpson suddenly burst out.
He was dressed head to toe in designer brands, wearing a $1 million watch on his wrist.
James arrogantly pointed at me and cursed, “Amelia, I thought you were actually rich. Turns out you’re just a fake pretending to be wealthy! If you hadn’t shamelessly pleased me this whole Christmas, I wouldn’t have given you a second glance. We’re breaking up right now!”
But originally, it was James who envied my luxurious lifestyle and shamelessly begged me to keep him.
If he hadn’t been decent-looking, I wouldn’t have kept him either.
But now James looked at me like I was trash, even kicking me hard in the chest, as if afraid I’d cling to him.
People around us applauded and loudly congratulated James for “escaping his miserable situation.”
Miserable situation?
I gave him $1 million in spending money every month. Apparently, in their eyes, this was a “miserable situation.”
Just as I was about to reveal the truth, Ivy’s eyes immediately reddened, and she slapped me across the face.
She cried, “Amelia, even now, you still won’t admit your mistake? Even though you’re just my family’s housekeeper’s daughter, I’ve always been good to you. All you had to do was say sorry to me, and I would have forgiven you for old times’ sake. But why won’t you just admit it?”
I covered my swollen cheek and gritted my teeth as I stood up.
I said coldly, “Admit it? Fine. I’ll admit it right now.
“That’s right. I am the housekeeper’s daughter. I impersonated Ivy’s identity. I was wrong.
“Miss Robertson, I hope you won’t hold it against a mere housekeeper’s daughter like me.”
Everyone froze in place, clearly not expecting me to admit it so readily.
Ivy was about to say something else, but I turned and walked away, not giving her another chance to frame me.
Once I was far enough away, I opened various shopping apps and food delivery platforms, going on a crazy ordering spree.
Ivy thought my lack of tears and tantrums meant I was plotting something, but when she saw the bank account balance keep increasing, she was absolutely delighted.
She immediately sent me a message: [Amelia, everyone says you need to treat us and apologize. Buy another 100 cups of coffee and have them delivered.]
I replied with a cold smile: [Sure.] Then I actually ordered 100 cups of coffee for delivery.
As soon as the coffee arrived, I immediately applied for a “refund only” claiming “food safety issues.”
Not just that order—I applied for refunds on every single purchase I’d just made on the shopping platforms.
With my actions, the hundreds of thousands of dollars I’d spent quickly returned to my pocket.
But when I reopened the shopping interface, I discovered that the account applying for refunds had somehow become Ivy’s.
Sure enough, this trading system could only transfer my spending amounts to Ivy’s account.
Once my purchases were canceled, to maintain balance, the system would register the refund records under Ivy’s name, forcibly legitimizing those mysterious income sources of hers.
I was so excited I nearly jumped up.
This time, Ivy was going to suffer.
I instantly spent nearly 3 million dollars on a shopping frenzy.
After receiving the goods, I deliberately found various reasons to apply for “refund only” on every single order, even an 8-dollar takeout meal.
From underwear and panties, snacks, and sanitary pads, to limited edition handbags, haute couture clothing, and even a suburban house from a court auction—I returned everything.
Even so, I still felt inexplicably anxious.
Remembering how quickly my body had deteriorated in my past life, I decided to return to the family villa during the weekend break.
As soon as I walked in, I saw Ivy and James throwing a party in the living room, surrounded by many classmates.
When they saw me, everyone’s faces showed disgust.
“Amelia, you’re back,” Ivy said.
She was wearing a haute couture gown, setting down her wine glass filled with 1992 Château Lafite, and walked toward me elegantly.
Ivy continued: “Today is James’s birthday. He said he really wanted to throw a party at the villa, so I brought him and our classmates over. We’ve finished all the wine in the cellar, so hurry up and order a few hundred more bottles.”
I looked up at her beautiful face, momentarily stunned.
Good clothes really do make a person look more spirited and refined. The current Ivy, with the tens of millions of dollars she’d “stolen” from me, was completely transformed.
At this moment, I couldn’t see any trace of the girl who’d come to our house as a nanny with Evie years ago, wearing a patched coat.
I was genuinely curious about what method she’d used to bind me to that trading system with her.
Seeing my silence, Ivy grew impatient.
She arrogantly pointed at my nose and said: “What are you standing there for? Hurry up! Today is the birthday banquet I’m specially throwing for James. Can you handle the responsibility if you delay things? Oh, and remember to buy more 1992 Château Lafite—James loves that wine.
“While you’re at it, help me buy the most expensive cake, an 18-layer one. Then call a five-star restaurant and book a private venue with reserved seating.”
I was so amused by her shamelessness that I laughed.
She was enjoying life with money stolen from me, yet still wanted me to handle everything without spending a dime herself.
Where in this world could such a good deal exist?
I stood frozen in place.
Looking at the hundreds of empty wine bottles piled around her, I silently prayed for them in my heart.
If my father found out that his precious wine collection, accumulated over many Christmases, had been completely drained by this bunch, I honestly had no idea what kind of beating he’d give them.
Just then, James stumbled over drunkenly, followed by a group of disgruntled classmates.
One male classmate said, “Amelia, are you deaf? You’re just the daughter of a lowly maid, and Ivy is your master. Whatever she tells you to do, you have to do it! Go buy us more alcohol right now!
“If you keep being this lazy and ruin Mr. Simpson’s birthday party, Ivy only needs to say one word and your mom won’t even be able to work as a maid anymore—she’ll probably end up begging on the streets!”
The watch I’d given James was gone from his wrist, replaced by a thick pure gold watch.
He also had a limited edition Rolls-Royce key fob clipped to his belt—clearly someone who’d recently come into serious money.
No wonder they were calling him “Mr. Simpson.” From the looks of it, Ivy must have spent over 8 million dollars on him.
I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. No wonder Ivy was so desperate to force me to help her.
I said coldly, “Sorry. My monthly allowance is only $1,500. I don’t have the money to cover your expenses. If you want to fire my mom, go ahead. I’ll have her move out of the villa right now and quit being a maid.”
I turned to leave, but suddenly someone grabbed my hair.
James roared, “Amelia, how dare a servant’s daughter speak to your master like that!”
His eyes were like poison-tipped daggers, boring into my face.
Then he continued, “Back then, if you hadn’t impersonated Ivy’s identity, Ivy and I wouldn’t have been delayed so long in getting together.
“Today, I’m going to teach you a lesson!”
With that, he shouted, and over a dozen of his lackeys rushed forward to pin down my shoulders.
I watched in terror as they closed in on me, struggling desperately: “Let me go! Are you all insane?”
But James just smiled maliciously. Then he slapped me across the face: “Today I’m going to discipline this servant properly for Ivy!”
A barrage of slaps rained down on my face, and my lip started bleeding.
Ivy stood nearby watching me leisurely, showing no intention of helping whatsoever.
She said, “Amelia, I’ve been too lenient with you usually, which is why you’ve become so spoiled. I’ll let James teach you a lesson. After this, you’ll know who the real master of this villa is.”
Dizzy from the beating, I shouted for the butler to come throw these people out.
But I realized all the servants in the villa had been dismissed, so I had no way to call for help.
It seemed that during my time at boarding school, massive changes had taken place in the villa.
After about half an hour, James seemed to tire from the beating and stopped.
But soon, his greedy gaze locked onto the diamond necklace around my neck.
James said, “How do you have something so valuable? Don’t tell me you stole this too?”
He excitedly grabbed my necklace, trying to yank it off directly.
The chain cut painfully into my neck, and I shouted angrily, “Let go! This is a keepsake my mother left me!”
But James didn’t believe me at all, and kicked me hard in the chest.
He spat at me viciously: “How could your maid mother’s salary possibly afford something this nice? I bet you sneaked it away when Ivy wasn’t looking.”
With that, he ran to the kitchen to get a fruit knife, planning to cut the necklace off directly.
But this necklace was the only thing my mother had left me after she died. I absolutely could not hand it over.
I struggled desperately, stubborn enough to want to go down fighting with them.
But just then, a shocked voice came from the doorway: “What are you doing? Stop!”
I looked up and saw that it was Ivy’s biological mother, Evie, our family’s housekeeper, who had returned.
Just a casual glance was enough for me to notice she was decked out in gold and silver jewelry from head to toe. Anyone who didn’t know better would think she was some wealthy socialite.
Ivy lifted her skirt and ran toward Evie, acting coquettishly as she called out, “Mom, why did you come back early?”
James and his classmates also stood obediently to the side, respectfully greeting Evie.
They said, “Hello, Mrs. Robertson.”
I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh, spat out some bloody saliva, then questioned, “How come I didn’t know there was a Mrs. Robertson in my house?”
Archie had only been abroad for half a Christmas, yet Evie and Ivy were already trying to take over my family’s house.
Seeing me lying on the ground covered in injuries, a flash of guilt crossed Evie’s eyes.
However, she still said sternly, “How dare a housekeeper’s daughter act so arrogant in front of me?”
After saying this, she turned around and looked at Ivy with a loving expression.
She said, “Ivy, how many times have I told you? Why are you bothering with such a lowly woman? It’s bad for your image. Anyway, you’ve already beaten and scolded her. Hurry up and throw this wretch out. Don’t let her dirty our home.”
Ivy said cheerfully, “Okay.” Then she waved her hand, calling over a few lackeys to deal with me.
But soon after, she held up the necklace that James had snatched from me, presenting it to Evie like she was seeking praise.
She said, “Mom, look! Fortunately, I got this diamond necklace back. Otherwise, I would have given it to Amelia for nothing.”
However, what no one expected was that the moment Evie saw this diamond necklace, her face instantly turned pale.
She immediately grabbed the necklace and rushed over to me, quickly putting it around my neck.
Evie said, “What are you all doing?”
Then Evie looked at me, her body visibly trembling.
She frantically explained for me, “This necklace was just bought by the housekeeper for Amelia to pretend she’s wealthy. The diamonds on it are actually made of plastic. You all got it wrong. From now on, I forbid anyone from touching Amelia’s necklace. Do you hear me?”
Seeing Evie like this, a bold idea popped into my head.
Could it be that the system on Ivy was related to this necklace?
But I felt like Ivy seemed completely unaware of this.
People around started talking. One girl said, “What? So the diamonds on it are plastic? I thought this necklace was something valuable.”
One boy said, “Amelia is so vain. She can’t afford a real diamond necklace, so she got a fake one to wear.”
Another boy said, “She really is a housekeeper’s daughter, so embarrassing.”
Everyone looked me up and down with disdainful eyes, and finally just kicked me out of the villa in disgust.
I struggled to get up from the ground, then immediately took off that diamond necklace. Right away, I sent a message telling Archie to hurry back from abroad.
After that, I took the necklace to a jewelry counter and spent $3 million to buy an identical one to wear.
Sure enough, after switching necklaces, I immediately felt strength return to my whole body, and that uncomfortable feeling stuck in my chest completely disappeared.
To avoid alerting Evie and Ivy, besides going crazy buying things on shopping platforms and applying for “refund only,” I posted pictures of my diamond necklace on Instagram every day.
Even though countless mockeries and insults tried to break me down, I persisted in posting photos of me and the necklace every day without fail.
Soon, James couldn’t help but comment under my post: [I’m dying of laughter. How do you have the nerve to post pictures of a fake necklace every day? Let me show you what real wealth looks like!]
With that, he immediately posted a nearly 5-minute video on Instagram.
In the video, he was wearing a custom-tailored suit, holding a pigeon egg-sized diamond ring in his hand, kneeling in front of Ivy.
He shouted loudly, “Ivy, will you marry me?”
Ivy nodded shyly in agreement. The flower petals scattered during the proposal ceremony were actually replaced with hundred-dollar bills.
This extravagant video quickly attracted many comments.
[Oh my God. A wealthy handsome guy and the richest family’s daughter – a perfect power couple. This is so enviable!]
[I looked into that diamond ring. Its market value is nearly $6 million, not to mention all that money they just scattered.]
[Amelia has completely become a clown. She posts pictures of her fake necklace every day. No wonder James didn’t choose her but chose Ivy instead.]
I smiled as I scrolled through these comments, feeling completely unmoved.
After all, applying for “refund only” on online purchases totaling $3,000 already met the threshold for fraud charges.
I was really curious about what expression Ivy would have when she saw that $30 million refund record.
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After completing my mission, I, Ariana Gilbert, returned to my original world.
The moment I opened my eyes, my parents Wyatt Gilbert and Sienna Gilbert were there with red-rimmed eyes, trembling as they called my name.
My usually calm and composed husband Austin Foster was also in tears.
I was moved and hugged my son Luca Foster. Just as I was about to tell the system I wanted to stay, Raegan Gilbert, who had been living my life in my absence, suddenly burst through the door.
“Don’t touch me! My mommy will be angry!” Luca pushed me away forcefully and threw himself into Raegan’s arms.
Raegan smiled smugly, looking like a victor.
My family members, who had been heartbroken for me just a second ago, now all gathered around her.
After a long silence, I said to the system: “Send me back.”
*****
When I woke up, Raegan was crying and saying she wanted to leave: “Since Ariana is back, I, the imposter, should go too.”
Wyatt and Sienna immediately rushed forward to stop her, their voices urgent: “What nonsense are you talking about? You’re our daughter, always will be!”
Austin also comforted her gently: “That’s right, Raegan. Without you these past three Christmases, Luca and I wouldn’t have made it through.”
Luca pushed me away hard and grabbed onto Raegan’s clothes: “Mommy, I can’t live without you.”
I fell to the ground, staring at everything in front of me in shock.
My heart felt like it was being cut open with a knife, and my eyes burned with unshed tears.
I don’t know how long it was before they noticed I had fallen.
Austin quickly picked me up and placed me on the bed: “Sorry, Ariana, Luca didn’t mean it.”
Wyatt and Sienna also rushed to make amends: “While you were unconscious, Raegan stayed by our side. She’s our adopted daughter now, and your sister too.”
Three Christmases ago, they had personally promised that when I returned, they would send Raegan back to her original family.
But now, she was wearing the family heirloom bracelet that Sienna had given me.
“Ariana, if you don’t like me, I’ll just leave.” Raegan wiped away her tears and made as if to go.
But I was blinded by the diamond ring on her ring finger.
It was the engagement ring Austin had personally designed for me.
Now, it was on Raegan’s hand.
I closed my eyes, my heart aching so much I could barely breathe.
I said to myself: “System, give me a little more time to think about this.”
After the system used my points to exchange for three days of consideration time, it fell into slumber.
Seeing my silence, Raegan’s tears, which had just stopped, began falling again: “I knew Ariana wouldn’t accept me. I’ll leave right now.”
She turned to go, her posture resolute.
Wyatt and Sienna anxiously chased after her, but seemed to suddenly remember me and explained: “We’re afraid she might do something foolish, so we’re going to bring her back.”
Luca glared at me fiercely and ran out anxiously: “Mommy, I’m coming with you.”
Austin got up to follow, but stopped the moment he met my gaze.
He awkwardly picked up the water glass from the table and handed it to me: “Ariana, don’t overthink it. You’re still the person we love most.”
His tone was as gentle as always, but his eyes looked toward the door seven times.
The hot water created a white mist that blurred my vision.
During these three Christmases, the system’s missions had been incredibly difficult, and I had wanted to give up countless times.
But whenever I thought of my loving parents, my husband who always protected me, and my child, I found endless courage.
Now I wondered if everything I had persisted for was right.
Soon, Austin received a message from Wyatt and seemed relieved.
He brought me home, and the moment he opened the door, I froze.
Austin noticed my reaction and pressed his lips together: “Maybe we should go to the dining room first, and later we can…”
Before he could finish, I had already walked into the room.
In Austin’s and my home, there were traces of Raegan everywhere.
Even our wedding photos had been replaced with her face.
Austin’s face went pale as he said frantically: “Ariana, let me explain.”
I stared silently at everything in the room, unable to utter a single word as tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.
Austin held me tightly: “After your car accident, Wyatt and Sienna were overcome with grief and took their anger out on Raegan, driving her out of the house. I knew she was your sister, and I should have protected her for your sake, so I brought her back home.”
His explanation felt hollow and weak, and I no longer had the strength to dig deeper.
Just then, his phone rang. Seeing the name on the screen, his face instantly lit up with unmistakable joy.
The display showing “Raegan Baby” pierced through my chest like a sharp blade, each breath pulling at the excruciating pain.
“Have you guys gotten to the restaurant? Ariana and I will be right there.” His tone was more cheerful than I’d ever heard.
He used to sound just like this when we were madly in love.
After hanging up, he gently wiped the tears from my face and led me to the restaurant.
Raegan sat in the head seat while Wyatt and Sienna took turns serving her food.
Sienna said lovingly, “Eat more, Raegan. You’re too thin.”
Luca also held a strawberry to her lips: “Mommy, you should eat more. With me here, no one will dare bully you.”
Those innocent words drew laughter from everyone at the table, and even Austin watched them with a smile, his eyes full of contentment.
What about me?
My feet felt like they were filled with lead, every movement tugging at my heartstrings.
“Oh my, Ariana, you’re here!” Seeing me, Raegan immediately stood up: “Today’s dinner is to celebrate your recovery. It’s not appropriate for me to sit in the head seat.”
But Sienna pulled her back down: “What are you talking about? A seat is just a seat, right?”
The next moment, she seemed to remember that I was supposed to be today’s guest of honor and looked up abruptly, a flash of embarrassment crossing her eyes: “Right, Ariana? It’s no big deal to let Raegan have it. It’s just a seat after all.”
But I remembered that on the day they brought me home, Wyatt and Sienna had thrown the most lavish homecoming banquet for me.
The guests were all elite socialites and dignitaries, with some quietly trying to squeeze toward the center seats.
That’s when the usually gentle Wyatt roared in front of everyone: “Today is my biological daughter Ariana Gilbert’s homecoming celebration! She is the only star of the show!
“No matter when, she must always sit in the head seat!”
The contrast cut through me like slow torture, each memory reopening the wound.
I held back my tears and sat down in the farthest seat.
Austin served me some food and held my hand, comforting me softly: “Eat more, Ariana.”
My throat tightened, my voice hoarse: “I’m allergic to seafood.”
Everyone froze, and the cheerful atmosphere instantly turned awkward.
Every dish on the table was seafood, yet no one remembered my allergy.
Because Raegan loved seafood the most.
Tears immediately rolled down Raegan’s face: “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I’ll have them bring out a whole new spread right away!”
She rushed out in a panic, and as she turned, tears splattered on the floor.
Then Luca smashed a plate against my head.
Scalding soup splashed across my face, glass shards embedded in my skin, and blood trickled down my cheeks.
But this physical burning pain was nothing compared to even a fraction of the agony in my heart.
Luca looked like an enraged little beast: “You evil woman! Why are you bullying my mommy again? You made her cry twice in one day! I hate you!”
I watched Luca’s retreating figure as he rushed out, my heart aching as if cut by a knife. My eyes burned, but no tears would come.
When he was born, I hemorrhaged severely and nearly died on the operating table.
But the moment I woke up and saw him, I felt all the pain had been worth it.
From when he first started learning to speak, to holding my hand as he learned to walk, to when he would throw himself into my arms with his sweet little voice saying “Mommy, I love you.”
These memories are deeply etched in my heart.
But now, he’s given all his love to Raegan.
When he looks at me, there’s only coldness and resentment in his eyes.
This realization chills me to the bone.
Wyatt and Sienna snapped back to reality and quickly helped me tend to my wound.
Wyatt frowned and said, “Austin, you should go check on them. I’m worried something might happen. We’ll take care of Ariana.”
Austin hesitated for a few seconds before nodding and leaving.
While wiping away the blood, Sienna said softly, “Don’t hold it against Raegan. She grew up without parents and lacks a sense of security. And Luca—after all, Raegan raised him. Don’t blame him.”
I hadn’t said a word, yet they all assumed I would hurt her.
I abruptly pushed Sienna’s hand away, my voice hoarse: “I’m going to the restroom.”
Just as I walked out the door, I heard Sienna complaining to Wyatt behind me: “Ariana isn’t sweet and understanding like Raegan at all. She doesn’t even know how to act cute with us.”
I thought bitterly: “But Mom, have you ever considered that during the years when I should have been able to act cute, I was suffering in the mountains? The slightest mistake would earn me beatings and scolding from my foster parents. And Raegan? She grew up surrounded by your love, like a little princess, traveling the world by plane. How was I supposed to learn to act cute?”
I walked to the restroom door, only to see Raegan pinned against the wall by Austin, kissing her.
His eyes burned with an almost manic intensity, his movements rough yet possessive.
In our four years of dating and six years of marriage, Austin had always been gentle and restrained with me.
I had never seen him look so passionate.
My feet seemed glued to the spot—I couldn’t move.
Like a masochist, I watched their intimate embrace, my stomach churning violently.
It wasn’t until they left hand in hand that I rushed into the restroom and collapsed by the toilet, retching violently.
Tears mixed with blood from the corner of my mouth, falling into the water without a sound.
At eighteen, Austin promised to love me forever and never cheat.
At twenty-eight, Austin brought that adopted daughter who had taken my place into his bed under the guise of “taking care of his sister.”
I don’t know how I made it back to the private room. When I pushed open the door, it was already empty.
The server said, “The guests at this table already paid and left.”
My fingers clenched suddenly, then I smiled.
They had completely forgotten about me.
Without my phone and penniless, I could only walk home step by step.
By the time I reached my front door, my feet were covered in blisters.
As the door opened, I heard laughter and cheerful voices from the living room.
Wyatt was pouring water for Raegan, Sienna was peeling oranges for her.
Luca was lying on her lap, making funny faces to make her laugh.
She was nestled against Austin’s side, looking like a loving couple.
They were a complete family, and I was the extra one.
Only when they heard the commotion did they notice me standing disheveled at the doorway.
Raegan immediately stood up, her face full of apology: “Ariana, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you and thought you had gone home first, so I came back with Mom and Dad. It’s all my fault—you can hit me or scold me, whatever you want!”
Sienna quickly pulled Raegan over and had her sit down on the couch. “It’s okay, you didn’t do it on purpose.”
Wyatt chimed in as well: “Yeah, Ariana, why didn’t you call to let us know you were coming?”
Before I could explain, Raegan let out a soft sigh.
All eyes turned to her once again.
The butler couldn’t stand watching any longer and called for a doctor to examine me. Only then did they remember I was there.
Perhaps out of guilt, Wyatt and Sienna hurried to prepare some gifts for me.
But Raegan received double portions of everything.
Love versus indifference—it was crystal clear.
The next day, I told Wyatt and Sienna that I wanted to return to work at the company.
Wyatt looked somewhat embarrassed and cleared his throat: “You just recovered. Don’t rush back to work yet. You’ll still get your dividend payments—we won’t shortchange you.”
I paused for a moment and instinctively looked up, only to see Raegan in a crisp business suit slowly descending the stairs.
She said, “Ariana, I’m heading to the office now. Please take care of Mom and Dad for me.”
Her smile was radiant, but her eyes held nothing but provocation as she looked at me.
Wyatt and Sienna had once told me that everything they had would be mine.
But now, everything they’d promised had likely changed hands long ago.
Seeing my continued silence, Austin gently took my hand: “I made dinner reservations. Let me take you out to eat, okay?”
The warmth of his palm made me involuntarily recall the image of him holding and kissing Raegan.
I pulled my hand away almost instinctively.
He froze for a moment but said nothing, simply leading me to the car in silence.
At the upscale restaurant, Raegan happened to be entertaining clients.
Several clients were taking turns toasting her when Austin immediately stepped forward: “Everyone’s here! What a coincidence—why don’t we all have a drink together?”
With that, he began drinking glass after glass in Raegan’s place.
Austin had always had stomach problems.
During countless business dinners in the past, I was the one who drank those harsh liquors for him.
But now, Austin, who never touched alcohol, was drinking until his face turned pale—all for Raegan.
I couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed his arm: “Stop drinking! Your stomach can’t handle this!”
He was already somewhat drunk and pulled me close by the waist, whispering in my ear: “Don’t worry, Raegan. I’m here—no one can hurt you.”
Raegan?
My entire body went rigid, as if I’d fallen into an icy abyss.
Raegan raised an eyebrow at me provocatively and mouthed: “You lose. This family is happier without you.”
My hands trembled as rage surged through me like a tsunami.
But I knew that everything that had happened these past few days was telling me the same thing—I no longer mattered.
I bit down hard on my teeth and stubbornly lifted my head: “You’re nothing but a fake. What’s there to be proud of?”
With that, I helped the swaying Austin toward the exit. Raegan slowly stood up and followed us.
She glanced outside and smiled slightly: “Is that so? Then let me show you who’s really the unloved fake.”
The next moment, she grabbed my hand and yanked it forward, making it look as if I had pushed her as she tumbled down the restaurant stairs.
She let out a pained whimper: “It’s all my fault. Dad, Mom, please don’t blame Ariana.”
Before I could react, a sharp slap struck my cheek.
Wyatt and Sienna had appeared at the restaurant entrance at some point.
Sienna’s eyes were red with fury as she pointed at me and screamed: “Raegan is pregnant! How dare you still bully her? If anything happens to her, you get out of this house immediately!”
Wyatt’s hand was still trembling, his face filled with anger and disappointment: “How did I raise such a vicious daughter? I wish Raegan were my real daughter instead.”
Austin instantly sobered up from his drunken state. He rushed forward in a few quick steps and carefully lifted Raegan into his arms.
Before getting in the car, he turned back and shot me a vicious look.
The hatred in his eyes nearly consumed me entirely.
Watching their car disappear into the distance, my heart ached unbearably.
My last shred of hope was crushed to dust beneath their wheels.
I collapsed onto the cold stairs, letting the wind and rain soak my hair, unable to tell whether what streamed down my face was rain or tears.
After a long while, I said wearily: “System, send me back to the mission world. I don’t want to stay here anymore.”
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I, Camila Fuller, had been a housewife for ten years.
That day, I was washing dishes when suddenly a stream of comments appeared before my eyes.
【The female lead is so pitiful, this family has been draining her luck all along!】
【Her husband stole her graduate degree and job opportunities!】
【Her husband’s parents even took away much of her health.】
【And her husband’s sister borrowed all her romantic prospects.】
【Her husband is about to give her something again. How much luck will she lose this time?】
My hands froze mid-air.
Just then, my husband Paxton Freeman walked over and slipped a plastic bracelet onto my wrist.
He said, “Honey, I bought this specially after work today. It’s both romantic and budget-friendly. Do you like it?”
I looked up and through the reflection in the kitchen window, I caught a glimpse of calculation flashing in his eyes.
He continued, “The company is selecting for management positions tomorrow. Do you think I’ll get promoted?”
I was still reeling from the shock of those comments, my mind completely blank.
“What are you spacing out for?” he urged. “Come on, say something.”
The comments appeared again.
【As long as the female lead answers “yes,” this luck-borrowing ritual will be complete.】
【She’ll definitely say yes. She’s always been obedient to this family.】
Seeing my continued silence, Paxton suddenly grabbed my wrist with such force that he nearly crushed it. “Honey, say something.”
I stared at the plastic bracelet on my right wrist, which suddenly felt burning hot.
I yanked my hand back. “I think my period just started.”
Without waiting for his reaction, I rushed into the bathroom.
He kept pounding on the door, his voice growing more urgent: “Just tell me, will I get selected or not?”
I shouted through the bathroom door: “Yes, you’ll definitely get selected!”
Hearing the satisfactory answer, Paxton’s voice carried a note of excitement. “Since you’re not feeling well tonight, I won’t stay with you. I’ll sleep over at my friend’s place.”
I looked at the plastic bracelet I had thrown into the toilet.
Comments flashed frantically before my eyes.
【The female lead actually threw away the bracelet? Doesn’t she usually treasure everything he gives her?】
【Could she know this man has been harming her all along?】
【Does she know Paxton has been cheating?】
From what just happened, I was certain that these suddenly appearing comments were all true.
Reading the words floating in the comments, my heart ached unbearably.
Those people in the living room outside were all people I considered family.
【This whole family has been scheming against the female lead from the beginning.】
【The female lead should have gotten into graduate school, then met her husband during her PhD studies. They would have been kindred spirits and founded their company together.】
【If only the female lead knew the truth, she wouldn’t keep letting them borrow her luck.】
Through the comments’ narration, I learned the whole truth and my inevitable fate.
I was an orphan who met the seemingly honest and simple Paxton in college.
His parents, James Freeman and Sophia Freeman, treated me like their own daughter.
But in reality, I had been their target from the very beginning.
James had inherited an ancient technique from his ancestors that could borrow others’ luck. However, by now, his ability was limited to borrowing luck only from his own family members.
He had calculated that I was born with an exceptionally lucky fate, so he had Paxton marry me quickly, making me part of their family.
That’s why, despite my diligent preparation for graduate school entrance exams, Paxton, who never studied, got into my dream school and program.
No matter how serious James and Sophia’s illnesses were, they would recover the next day. Meanwhile, I was constantly plagued by various ailments, all the kinds of diseases that typically afflicted elderly people.
I maintained a regular exercise routine and balanced nutrition, yet my weight kept increasing daily. Now I weighed nearly 200 pounds, while Jasmin Freeman, who never watched her diet, remained slender and was even dating a rich second-generation heir.
At the story’s end, I would develop cancer from having all my luck drained by them, then die crushed by a truck while crossing the street.
I splashed cold water on my face repeatedly, trying to calm down.
Thank goodness I had seen these comments.
I couldn’t let them borrow my luck anymore.
Since they didn’t truly care for me, I would make them pay the price.
I pressed the flush button.
Let that plastic bracelet disappear along with Paxton’s promotion dreams.
The next evening, Paxton stormed through the door in a rage. He yanked his tie loose, and when his eyes landed on my bare wrist, his fury exploded. “Where’s the bracelet!” He grabbed my wrist and roared, “Where’s the bracelet I gave you?”
I answered casually, “I accidentally dropped it in the toilet last night.”
Paxton’s face flushed red with anger. “You dropped it and didn’t think to fish it out?”
I shot back, “It wasn’t anything valuable. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?”
“Do you have any idea that because of you, my promotion opportunity is completely ruined!” he said through gritted teeth.
I tilted my head, playing dumb. “Oh? So because I lost the bracelet you gave me, you can’t get promoted?”
Paxton was about to speak. “It’s because you—”
James interrupted with a cough. “Enough. If something’s lost, just buy another one. Don’t make this into a bigger issue.”
Only then did Paxton stop, breathing heavily. As I went to the kitchen to serve the dishes, I caught a glimpse of his dark expression from the corner of my eye. Not getting promoted is just the beginning. What you owe me, I’ll make sure you pay back every last bit.
At the dinner table, Paxton’s face remained stormy. Sophia smiled sweetly, trying to ease the tension. “Camila, you should be understanding with Paxton. He’s been fighting for this position for several years now. Not getting promoted this time, he’s genuinely anxious. Don’t hold it against him. Look how much he loves you—he’s always buying you things. I’m actually jealous. Since you don’t have parents to rely on, I think of you as my own daughter.”
She placed a piece of vegetable on my plate. “Eat more. Vegetables are good for your health.”
She helped herself to a piece of meat, took a bite, and continued, “Oh, yesterday I went to the pharmacy downstairs to check my blood pressure, and they said my systolic pressure was 170. I need to go to the hospital tomorrow for a checkup. Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”
My heart sank. I had already swallowed that piece of vegetable.
The comments started scrolling frantically:
【Holy crap, this old lady is ruthless. Who would be on guard like this all the time?】
【What should the female lead do? Should she run to the bathroom and throw up?】
【Do you think the female lead already knows the truth?】
At the dinner table, Sophia looked at me kindly. “Camila, don’t you think so? I’ll be fine, right?”
Under the table, I pressed hard against my stomach with my hand.
“Ugh!”
I vomited all the food onto the table. As I threw up, I smiled at Sophia, whose face had suddenly changed. “Of course, you’ll definitely be fine.”
“Ugh!”
I threw up again, and the entire dinner table was in chaos. My stomach was churning violently. I clutched my stomach weakly and said, “I don’t feel well. I’m going back to my room.”
Before long, Paxton came in carrying a glass of milk. “My mom had me make this milk for you. She said you barely ate anything and was worried you’d feel sick on an empty stomach. Who else would be as thoughtful as my mom?”
I kept my head down and gave a muffled “mm.”
He urged impatiently, “Hurry up and drink it. Don’t be ungrateful.”
I replied weakly, “Just leave it there. I’ll drink it in a bit.”
He set the glass down heavily on the nightstand and left. Once his footsteps faded away, I immediately got up and poured the entire glass of milk into the flower pot by the window.
The comments appeared again:
【How does the female lead know the milk was drugged?】
【I suddenly want to know what the female lead will do next.】
I had just lain back down when the conversation from the next room came through the thin wall. The old house had poor soundproofing, and every word was crystal clear. I quietly cracked open my door, leaving just a small gap.
“Is Camila asleep?” It was Sophia’s voice.
Paxton sneered coldly, “She’s asleep.
I put seven or eight sleeping pills in her food. She’s sleeping like a dead pig.”
Sophia said, “Be a little gentler with her. You were so harsh today—what if she wants to divorce you? Jasmin is dating that rich kid. Don’t complicate things.”
Paxton sneered, “Mom, with that fat pig appearance of hers, who else would want her? I feel disgusted just touching her. As for Jasmin, tell her to eat less. Just looking at Camila makes me want to throw up.”
This comment puzzled me. I’d been married into this family for ten years, and Jasmin had never given me anything. How had she borrowed my luck? And why had she been able to keep me overweight all this time? The comments grew alert too. [Come to think of it, they never mentioned Jasmin giving the female lead anything.]
[Maybe it was sent through Paxton’s hands?]
The comments’ speculation matched my thoughts. Sophia suddenly grew nervous: “She threw up today. Could she be pregnant?”
Paxton immediately cut her off: “That dead fat pig? I don’t even want to touch her. How could I possibly get her pregnant?”
Hearing this, I instinctively touched my stomach. I’d once had a child, but my poor health meant I couldn’t keep the baby. Paxton laughed, “Dad, your method really worked. When we worked together to get rid of that dead pig’s child, Phoebe gave me a son right away. When can we bring Phoebe and Kevin home? Just seeing Camila makes me sick.”
So my son’s life had been borrowed too! James, who had been silent all along, finally spoke: “Just over a month left, and Camila’s luck will be completely drained. Only when she dies will this luck-borrowing ritual end. Otherwise, we’ll all face backlash.”
Paxton was so excited he nearly laughed out loud: “Excellent! My son and wife can finally come back to me.”
James coldly reminded him: “Phoebe still can’t come back. You need to marry another woman with good fortune so we can keep living well.”
Paxton said, “Fine, Phoebe’s obedient anyway. But Kevin must come back—he’s my only son.”
Sophia groaned again: “Oh, my leg hurts again. Tomorrow I need to give Camila more things. And you, use your brain—stop fobbing her off with cheap stuff.”
Paxton smirked dismissively: “What’s to worry about? She’s accepted everything for ten years, hasn’t she?”
Their conversation seemed to end. I quickly closed the door tight and lay back down on the bed. Moments later, Paxton pushed the door open, glanced at me, muttered “dead fat pig” under his breath, then left. In the darkness, I slowly opened my eyes. My face was wet with tears, and the hatred in my heart made me want to make them pay in blood. My child, Mommy will avenge you. For you, and for my stolen ten years of youth and dignity.
Paxton didn’t come home all night.
He used to make excuses before, but now that he knows I only have a month left to live, he can’t even be bothered to put on a show.
Sophia gently placed a freshly baked cake in front of me. “Camila, you should eat something first. Your stomach was bothering you yesterday.”
I didn’t take it, but pulled her hand and sat down on the couch with her.
“There’s something I’d like to discuss with you. You know I grew up in an orphanage. Yesterday, the director Freya Lopez called me. She’s getting older and accidentally injured her leg. All these years, she’s been taking care of the children at the orphanage, but she has no children of her own. I want to go stay with her for a while and take good care of her.”
Sophia frowned slightly, her tone showing displeasure. “Camila, you’re part of our family. Paxton works hard outside, and you should be the one holding this home together.”
I held her hand and spoke honestly: “Sophia, let me be straight with you. Freya told me that she has no children, and I’m the closest person to her after all these years. She’s decided to transfer both of her properties to my name. You and James have always been loving toward me, and Paxton has treated me well too. So I’ve made up my mind—I’ll transfer both properties to Paxton’s name.”
Upon hearing this, Sophia’s eyes immediately lit up.
She gripped my hand tightly, her voice trembling with excitement. “I knew you were such a thoughtful and filial child! Go ahead, leave today! I’ll handle things with Paxton, so you don’t need to worry about anything!”
I nodded with a smile.
That evening, Sophia called Paxton home.
I hired a fake lawyer and signed many fraudulent documents. Paxton was so immersed in his great joy that he had no idea the divorce agreement was hidden among them.
The moment he signed his name, I felt the strings binding me inside snap one by one.
A long-lost strength surged from deep within my bones throughout my entire body.
The comments were all celebrating for me.
【Great! The female lead finally broke free from the Freeman family and will never have her luck stolen again.】
【The female lead is no longer part of the Freeman family. Since the Freemans failed to complete this luck transfer, what awaits them next is karmic backlash. I can’t wait to see it.】
The lawyer said he needed to take the documents to process the transfer, and Paxton happily saw the fake lawyer out.
He had already started planning with James and Sophia how to use those two properties.
“We’ll sell one and let Phoebe and Kevin live in the other.”
He was so excited that he forgot himself and blurted out about his mistress and illegitimate child right in front of me.
Sophia quickly tried to interrupt him, but Paxton glanced at me coldly and said, “Just go take good care of Freya. Don’t bother coming back.”
With that, he turned around and violently threw all my luggage downstairs.
Standing outside the door, I looked down at the real divorce agreement in my hands as tears fell heavily onto the pages.
After ten years, I had finally reclaimed my life.
I looked forward to their family’s destruction as payment for the ten years they owed me and my child’s life!
Freya had indeed injured her leg. I briefly explained Paxton’s affair to her, and she was very understanding, telling me to settle in comfortably.
It was perfect timing for me to take good care of her too.
That evening, as I was preparing to rest, Paxton suddenly called.
I answered the phone, and before I could speak, I heard his anxious voice: “Honey, you need to come to the Ocean Hotel right now!”
Before I could figure out what was happening, the comments filled me in.
【Paxton was supposed to meet a woman, but he went to the wrong room and messed with Nash Ramirez’s woman—the son of New York’s richest man!】
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The day my husband’s parents Jason Gibson and Leila Gibson were in a car accident, I, Gabriela Reeds, called Everett Gibson with trembling hands, my voice choked with tears as I begged him to transfer money for the surgery fees.
But all I heard from the other end was his cold mockery: “If you want money, just say so. Why do you always come up with these pathetic excuses?”
Staring at the disconnected call, I swallowed my hurt and dialed again, only to hear a familiar female voice: “Everett, I squeezed out too much sunscreen. Can I rub it on your abs?”
He laughed indulgently, “You’re being silly.”
That night, Jason and Leila died abroad despite all efforts to save them.
*****
It’s been over half a month since Jason and Leila’s accident. I couldn’t let their bodies go unattended.
But Everett still wouldn’t answer his phone or come home. I had to handle all the arrangements alone and organize the cremation.
Just the day before the accident, they were still hoping for a grandchild. Now they lay in cold coffins.
I don’t understand how life and death could be separated in a single night. Even less do I understand what could make Everett completely cut off contact for half a month, ignoring his parents’ life and death.
I heard rustling sounds—he was home.
I looked up, only to see Grace walking in, along with that Grace Lewis who had been sickly since childhood and whom Everett treasured like a precious gem.
She was wearing my silk nightgown, the neckline slightly open, revealing several intimate red marks on her neck.
The sight stung my eyes and made my stomach churn.
“Everett and I have been waiting for you, Gabriela. Were you out having fun? I ordered takeout—want to eat together?” she asked sweetly.
Everett stood by the dining table, not even glancing in my direction.
Thinking about how Jason and Leila were still unburied while Everett brought Grace back to our marital home, letting her wear my clothes and sleep in my bed—
I felt sick and turned to rush to the bathroom. But Grace blocked my path.
She said, “Gabriela, don’t fight with Everett. He’s been so busy with work and has no time to spend with anyone. I saw how exhausted he was, so I took him away to relax. After all, unlike you, not everyone can skip work and go shopping for luxury goods every day, right?”
She stood too close, her heavy perfume overwhelming me. I suddenly bent over and dry-heaved, even bringing up some acid. Grace screamed and stepped back, but still got splashed a little.
“Do you have to be so disgusting?” These were the first words he’d spoken to me in half a month.
He didn’t explain why Grace was wearing my nightgown, didn’t ask where I’d been all this time, and didn’t care whether I was sick or holding up.
Once, if I so much as frowned slightly, he would anxiously ask if I was feeling unwell.
I’d forgotten when exactly he started changing, but it seemed like it had been a long time.
I straightened up and met his indifferent gaze coldly. Even though I was prepared, my heart still ached sharply.
I said, “I’m the one being disgusting? Everett, you’re the one who’s truly revolting.”
“Can you stop being so unreasonable? I came home, didn’t I?” he interrupted irritably.
Grace immediately chimed in, “Gabriela, Everett only went on that trip with me because I was heartbroken. Don’t blame him.”
Everett said coldly, “You have nothing to apologize for. She’s the one looking for trouble.”
Watching him protect her without hesitation, I suddenly found everything utterly absurd.
I silently walked to the corner, picked up those two heavy urns, and walked up to him: “These are your parents’ ashes. You take care of them. Also, let’s get divorced.”
He laughed coldly, “You just grab two random boxes and claim they’re my parents’ ashes? Gabriela, have you lost your mind? And you want to divorce me?”
He casually tossed the urns aside and mocked, “You won’t sleep with me, so now you’re putting on this act with my parents? You just want a child, don’t you? Your plan failed so now you’re threatening divorce? If you really want one, just say so. It’s not like I can’t give you one.”
I really wanted to ask who exactly was being dishonest in this marriage.
Who took his first love on a million-dollar spending spree on our wedding anniversary? Who claimed to be working overtime while actually holding her hand at amusement parks? And who lied to me over and over again for her sake, leaving me alone in an empty house time after time?
I don’t know when this marriage became meaningless, but I know it’s time to end it now.
So I said calmly, “Divorce. I’ll move out as soon as possible to make room for you two.”
Grace opened her mouth but was silenced by Everett’s icy glare.
He stared at me, his voice menacing: “You’re threatening me with divorce again? If you walk out that door today, we’re done for good. Don’t expect me to come after you.”
I nodded gently, then turned around without hesitation, opened the door, and walked out.
Everett felt an inexplicable sense of defeat rise in his chest, but quickly suppressed it. After all, her parents died long ago—she had nowhere to go. She’d come back eventually.
After renting the apartment, I returned to the villa to collect my belongings.
I placed the divorce papers I’d printed earlier in front of Everett.
He signed without even looking, but when I reached for the documents, his hand pressed down on the paper.
“Gabriela,” he said, “haven’t you thought about what Jason and Leila would think if they found out we’re getting divorced? Aren’t you afraid of breaking their hearts?”
I finally understood—Everett didn’t believe a word I’d said. Perhaps Jason and Leila’s ashes had already been carelessly discarded in some forgotten corner.
“Everett,” my voice trembled, “I’ve told you countless times—Jason and Leila are dead! What I gave you last time were their ashes. Where did you put them?”
“Gabriela, stop talking nonsense.” He frowned, his tone cold.
“You’re being completely unreasonable,” I said.
“You’re the one being unreasonable, Ms. Reeds.” Grace suddenly appeared, slamming her phone on the table. The screen showed a social media activity log. “Leila was still liking posts online last night! I understand you want Everett’s attention, but making up such ridiculous lies is pretty low, don’t you think?”
I was close enough to clearly see that at eleven PM last night, Leila’s account had liked a post.
But I had watched Jason and Leila’s bodies being pushed into the crematorium with my own eyes. How was this possible?
“I’m being polite to you out of respect for Everett,” Grace sneered. “But I’ve never acknowledged your status, much less this marriage. To get your hands on Gibson Group’s assets, you actually made up lies about Jason and Leila dying in a car accident abroad. What exactly are you trying to pull?”
Since when did our marriage need her approval to be valid?
“My purpose?” I looked coldly at both of them. “I just hope you two stay together forever, so you won’t harm anyone else.”
I turned to Everett. “You believe whatever Grace says? You’re the CEO of a public company—don’t you have a phone? Whether what I’m saying is true or false, your secretary could verify it in five minutes. Why won’t you check?”
Grace said, “Then how do you explain this like record? Are you going to say someone found their phones?”
Jason and Leila had indeed been in a car accident abroad, and their phones were never found among their belongings.
Everett suddenly spoke, his voice ice-cold: “You married me for money, didn’t you? Don’t think you can take a single cent through divorce. You’ll leave with nothing.”
“Don’t worry,” I laughed bitterly. “I won’t take a penny of yours. If you look down on me so much, why did you pursue me so relentlessly in the first place? When someone’s heart changes, their face sure follows suit.”
He always interpreted my every word and action in the most malicious way possible.
I didn’t want to argue anymore and turned to go upstairs to pack.
Behind me came Everett’s furious voice: “You came here with just one bag, and now you want to take things when you leave? Letting you walk out in those clothes is charity enough.”
I clenched my fists, suppressing my anger, wanting only to retrieve my parents’ belongings—the things that truly belonged to me.
“Ugh, what’s that smoky smell? Is Leila burning the trash we cleared out yesterday?” Grace pinched her nose, feigning disgust.
She always liked stirring up trouble, and at her words, my heart sank.
In a roaring fire, all of my birth parents’ belongings were being consumed—yellowed photographs, old letters, and the necklace Mom had given me on my tenth birthday, her last gift to me.
I rushed forward to save them, but Grace deliberately blocked my way: “Such a big fire—be careful you don’t hurt yourself.”
She wore a malicious smile, mocking my desperation.
Everett said, “Just a pile of junk. If someone wants to treat it like treasure, who cares?”
Once, Everett had called these items “your parents’ final mementos.” Now, in his eyes, they were nothing but disposable waste.
Just as my hand was about to reach the necklace in the flames, Grace suddenly swayed and fell toward the edge of the fire! Everett shoved me aside and threw himself forward to shield Grace in his arms.
My head struck the stone beside me hard. Sharp pain shot through me, my ears rang, my vision blurred, and the world seemed to spin.
Grace raised her arm, revealing slightly burned skin, and began to sob: “It hurts so much. I was just trying to get her away from the fire, but she pushed me!”
“Don’t cry, I’ll take you to the hospital right away.” Everett lifted her up, and before leaving, he turned back coldly: “I thought you were just a liar, but I never imagined you could be so vicious—actually pushing her into the fire.”
I couldn’t make out what Everett was saying at all. The servant standing nearby hesitated, wanting to step forward but not daring to move. As for me, I simply reached toward the pile of flames still burning.
Warm, thick blood trickled down my forehead, blurring my vision. I fumbled several times before finally picking up that necklace from the ashes.
Unfortunately, it had already been burned beyond recognition, twisted and deformed. It was just a plastic necklace—cheap and fragile. Yet I still clutched it tightly in my palm, letting the scalding embers burn blisters into my skin, refusing to let go.
To ten-year-old me, wearing it meant I could become a princess from a fairy tale.
To me now, it was the only keepsake my parents had left behind. And now, this precious memory had been destroyed right before my eyes by his own hands.
I didn’t understand why Everett had suddenly become a different person. If he no longer loved me, why not just say he wanted to leave? How could I possibly cling to him then?
I understood even less why Grace, who clearly liked him, wouldn’t simply be with him. Instead, she chose to torment me on one side while flirting with him on the other, playing these ambiguous games.
Looking down at the divorce papers he had signed in my hand, I suddenly felt it was time to leave this land where I had lived for over twenty years.
I walked aimlessly, my vision growing increasingly blurred. I wiped the blood from my face with my hand, but my sight remained cloudy and unclear.
When I opened my eyes again, a familiar figure stood before me.
The hospital corridor was cold, white, and silent. Noah Howard handed me a test report.
He said, “How could you not know you were pregnant? Look at the state you’re in. If I hadn’t run into you on my way to a house call, you might have been hit by a car the next second.”
Noah was a classmate from the class next door in high school who had pursued me for a while. After I got together with Everett, we lost touch. I never expected to run into him here after all these years, and he had become a doctor at this hospital.
Being seen in such a disheveled state by an old acquaintance made me feel inexplicably embarrassed, though I didn’t know what to say. In the end, I just kept thanking him and transferred the exact amount for the medical fees to him.
Just as I turned to leave, a questioning voice came from behind: “What are you two doing?”
Everett stormed over in a rage, grabbing my arm with such force that I nearly lost my balance. When he saw the gauze wrapped around my head, he paused for a moment.
But he immediately demanded, “So that’s why you suddenly wanted a divorce? You already had someone else, didn’t you? You two have been in contact all along!”
“Noah, how can you be so shameless, always going after other men’s wives? Have you no dignity!”
His words grew increasingly vicious, not only slandering me but also insulting Noah.
I forcefully shook off his grip and straightened up. “Everett, we’re already divorced. The divorce papers have been signed.”
“I take it back!” he practically roared, his eyes filled with disbelief and fury. “You want to be with this man, don’t you? Answer me! Gabriela!”
Grace, her arm wrapped in gauze, tried to hold him back, but he shoved her aside.
I suddenly found it almost laughable. “The way you’re acting, I’d think you still had feelings for me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself!” he sneered. “We haven’t even gotten the divorce certificate yet, and you’re already out there fooling around while still carrying my wife’s title?”
At that moment, Grace spoke up casually, “I remember Dr. Howard pursued Ms. Reeds back in college, didn’t he? You two seemed pretty close back then.”
Everett’s expression instantly darkened. Grace realized she’d said the wrong thing and stuck out her tongue awkwardly. “Sorry, Dr. Howard, maybe I remembered wrong.”
Before Noah could respond, I said, “It’s fine, I can handle this myself. Dr. Howard, you should get back to work.”
I quietly hid the report behind my back and met Everett’s gaze.
“You could carry on with other women throughout our marriage without a care in the world, but I couldn’t do the same. Don’t worry, I would never cheat.”
“Ms. Reeds,” Grace suddenly narrowed her eyes, and quick as lightning, snatched the report from behind my back.
She glanced down at it, her expression changing dramatically before quickly returning to calm. “Don’t tell me that because Everett wants to divorce you, you got your classmate to fake a report? If this gets exposed, it could ruin Dr. Howard’s entire career.”
Everett let out a scornful laugh, his face full of disdain. “We’ve been married for three or four years, and you never got pregnant. Now suddenly overnight you’re expecting? How long has it been since I even touched you? If you’re going to fake something, at least make it logical.”
I reached out to grab the report back, but Grace nimbly dodged away.
Everett actually stepped in front of her protectively, like some kind of instinctive reaction.
I laughed coldly. “What, are you planning to push me again for her sake?”
Everett’s gaze fell on the gauze around my head again, but in the end, he said nothing. He snatched the report and threw it hard into my arms, coldly dropping the words “enough is enough” before turning to leave with Grace, their retreating figures resolute.
Over a month ago, Everett came home from a business dinner, completely wasted. He stumbled into the bedroom, held me close, and kept calling my name over and over, saying he loved me so much.
At the time, I thought Everett must love me, that there had to be some misunderstanding between us.
But the next morning when he woke up, he remembered nothing. When he saw me, his eyes were as cold as if he were looking at a stranger, even filled with disgust. I was driven back by that look.
The child was probably conceived that very night.
Now, it’s probably for the best that he doesn’t acknowledge this child.
He doesn’t even care about his own parents’ deaths, so he certainly wouldn’t care about this child.
Since the marriage has reached its end anyway, an unwanted child shouldn’t come into this world.
I just wondered if someday, when he learns that I terminated his child and discovers I wasn’t lying, that his parents are both dead, and that he bears some responsibility for their deaths, would he break down completely?
At this thought, I felt an almost cruel sense of anticipation.
So I quietly scheduled an abortion.
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My name is George Moore. My wife Taylor Larson suffers from intimacy phobia.
For ten years of marriage, she has pushed me away time and again. Until our wedding anniversary, when she left me behind and passionately kissed another man, walking hand in hand into a luxury hotel.
Afterward, Taylor said to me matter-of-factly: “Men should be more generous and not so petty.”
Generous?
I said: “Then I wish you two all the best together.”
A few days later, I handed her the divorce papers with an expressionless face, determined to leave her for good.
But she went crazy because of my disappearance.
*****
“I have intimacy phobia, don’t force me.” Taylor gently pushed away my hand reaching toward her, turned around, and said nothing more.
Yes, we’ve been married for exactly ten years, yet we’ve never had a real married life.
I’ve always longed to have children, and both sets of parents have urged us many times. But whenever I wanted to take things further with Taylor, she would always coldly refuse, claiming she was “afraid of physical contact.” Helplessly, I could only tell others that I was too busy with work and had no energy for family matters, shielding her from relatives’ gossip.
I love Taylor. I believe she has some unspeakable difficulty, so I never force her, only retreating to the bathroom alone to take care of myself.
Perhaps she also sensed that her coldness had hurt me. After I returned, she would turn around and hug my waist, nuzzling affectionately in my arms. “Honey, let’s go to sleep.”
Feeling her shallow breathing, a strong unease slowly welled up in my heart.
To dispel this feeling, the next day I deliberately finished work at the hospital early, booked a high-end restaurant, wanting to surprise her and strengthen our relationship.
But after waiting two hours, she never showed up.
I called her colleague and learned that their company was having a dinner party today.
The colleague said: “This gathering was scheduled by Ms. Larson a week ago.”
But Taylor never told me. In the early days of our marriage, she used to share everything in her life with me.
Looking at the messages on WhatsApp that hadn’t been replied to for a long time, I drove to the KTV where they were having their dinner party.
The moment I saw what was happening inside, my hand froze on the door handle, and my body instantly felt like it had fallen into an ice cave.
Taylor was being held in the arms of a young man, not struggling, not dodging. Amid the crowd’s cheering, she closed her eyes and calmly accepted the man’s deep kiss.
After the party ended, I overheard her conversation with her best friend Andrea Evans in the hallway corner.
She said: “Actually, before marriage, I really loved George. Being apart for just a morning would make me miss him so much I’d panic. But after marriage, whenever he gets close to me or wants to touch me, I can always smell blood, making me so nauseous I want to throw up. I lied to him about having intimacy phobia, and I didn’t expect him to actually believe it. Ten years of marriage, appearing loving on the surface, but behind closed doors, I haven’t done a single thing that married couples should do with him.”
“Bottom line, you just don’t love him anymore,” Andrea said flatly, seeing right through her.
Taylor chuckled softly, neither confirming nor denying.
Andrea asked: “What about today’s intern? Jayden Howell, right? Don’t tell me you’re actually falling for him?”
Taylor casually ran her fingers through her hair. “No, not quite there yet.”
Andrea said: “I’m warning you, playing around is fine, but don’t go too far. You and George were the most famous couple on campus back then. He treasures you like his life. If you ever go too far and something really happens, no one will be able to save you.”
Taylor scoffed. “Thirteen years of feelings – would he really be willing to let go?”
Taylor’s words pierced my heart like silver needles.
All these Christmas memories came flooding back, and I realized she never had any phobia at all—she simply didn’t love me.
Those two words “want to throw up” wrapped around my throat like iron chains, making it impossible to breathe.
She knew me better than anyone, which is exactly why she could strike at my soft spots with such precision, using them as leverage for her betrayal.
I remembered the name Jayden all too clearly.
He was the new intern who joined Taylor’s company at the beginning of this Christmas season.
The first time she mentioned him, her voice was filled with barely concealed admiration.
She told me how Jayden had messed up an important partnership project.
But he refused to give up, blocking the departing business partner and tearfully begging for another chance, nearly fainting from emotional distress.
This kind of unwavering determination was something many college students today lacked.
In the end, Taylor couldn’t stand watching anymore. She angrily confronted the aggressive business partner and pulled Jayden out of the conference room.
At the time, I didn’t understand: “Isn’t this just making a scene? He screwed up the company’s partnership—the responsibility is entirely his. The business partner has every right to terminate the deal. You can’t force them to accept the partnership just because you feel sorry for Jayden.”
Taylor rarely got angry with me, but this time her eyes flashed with disappointment: “And you call yourself a doctor? You don’t have an ounce of empathy. I’m really disappointed in you.”
I didn’t doubt my perspective because of her anger and continued trying to correct her thinking.
But she stubbornly sided with Jayden, even suggesting that I’d been too sheltered.
Because of this incident, we didn’t speak for several days.
In the end, I was the one who apologized, swallowing my pride to win her back.
From that day on, I remembered Jayden’s name.
I just never imagined that Jayden would transform into Taylor’s assistant.
It was also from that moment that an invisible barrier formed between Taylor and me.
When you love someone, you can’t help but want to share every little detail of your life with them. When you stop sharing, that’s when the love is gone.
All the signs had already surfaced.
After work, I went to bed early. I felt subtle movement beside me.
Familiar warmth pressed against me as Taylor’s soft body wrapped around mine.
I fought back the urge to vomit, quickly rolling away and saying coldly, “It’s too hot.”
Her hand froze in mid-air, as if she hadn’t expected me to pull away.
I could sense she was in a good mood tonight—initiating physical contact was already the most intimate gesture between us.
She didn’t pursue it further, tucking the covers around me before turning away to look at her phone.
I don’t know when it started, but Taylor, who never used to stay up late, began scrolling through her phone until the early hours, even clutching it when she went to the bathroom.
Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I suddenly received a text message. My instincts told me it was from Jayden.
I took a deep breath, my fingertips trembling as I opened it.
Jayden had sent me a screenshot of his chat with Taylor from five minutes earlier.
He’d sent Taylor a photo of himself in a bathrobe, along with a room number.
【I don’t dare ask you to divorce for me. I just want to stay by your side, to hold you when you’re sad.】
【If you don’t come tonight, I’ll keep waiting.】
And Taylor had softened, replying: 【Wait for me.】
I’d never seen such a shameless man before. For a moment, I was stunned.
Right after reading that chat log, Taylor got up and started getting dressed.
She said, “There’s a sudden issue with the project. I need to handle it personally.”
Over the past ten years, she’d used this exact line countless times to leave home in the middle of the night. And I, because I loved her deeply, never questioned it, never tried to stop her.
Looking back now, she was probably going to see Jayden all those times.
I said, “I’ll come with you.”
Taylor’s movements paused almost imperceptibly, then she reached up to gently caress my cheek. “It’s already so late. Don’t trouble yourself—just get some sleep. If you wear yourself out staying up, it’ll break my heart. Don’t worry, I’ll be back early.”
With that, she showed no hesitation and turned to leave.
I quietly called a cab and followed her.
Taylor drove extremely fast, nearly losing my driver several times.
It was pouring rain outside, and Jayden was standing there waiting for her.
The two of them embraced like lovers who’d been separated for ages, unable to control themselves the moment they saw each other.
I fought back the sting in my eyes and pulled out my phone, which I’d prepared beforehand, aiming it at them and pressing the shutter.
To completely kill any lingering hope, I even recorded a twenty-second video.
They kissed passionately, reluctant to part, then walked hand in hand through the hotel entrance.
Back in the car, I composed myself and dialed the number I knew by heart.
My former doctoral advisor, Callum Fisher, answered the phone.
He was abroad now, where it was currently morning.
I said, “Prof. Fisher, do you still need people for that medical project?”
He paused for a moment, his voice actually trembling slightly. “George, have you made up your mind? As long as you’re willing to come, there’s always a place for you on the project team.”
When I graduated with my doctorate ten years ago, Callum had tried hard to convince me to stay, inviting me to go abroad with him for further research and continue my academic career.
It would have been a tremendous opportunity for me to advance to the next level.
But Taylor didn’t want a long-distance relationship. So I chose to stay.
Deep down, though, I regretted it more than anyone.
Now, I finally had a chance to start over.
I don’t regret my choice back then—that young George was willing to give up his dreams for love. And the current George has the courage to set out again for himself.
Every choice has been a decision I made by following my heart.
*****
A day later, Callum and I arranged to meet in a month.
Dragging my exhausted body home, I pulled out a bottle of wine I’d been saving for years and poured glass after glass down my throat.
Just over a month left, and everything would truly be over.
My phone suddenly buzzed with a message from my good friend Tate Foster.
【How’d it go? That restaurant I recommended was great, right?】
【What woman could resist that kind of romantic gesture? Taylor must be head over heels for you now, right?】
All our friends thought Taylor was madly in love with me. I used to think so too.
Only now do I realize that love really can be faked.
Looking down at my watch, I let out a self-mocking laugh.
This watch—she and I bought it during our most difficult years.
She had just started her business then, and I’d given her all my savings to support her.
During the worst period, we often went hungry.
To buy me this watch, she secretly took on part-time jobs, sleeping less than four hours a night.
It wasn’t until she collapsed on the street one day and was rushed to the hospital that I learned the truth.
I rushed into the hospital room, and her first reaction upon seeing me was to hide her scraped palm under the bed.
I blamed myself for not taking better care of her and asked through tears why she’d taken those jobs.
But she just smiled and wiped away my tears. “Silly, it was for your birthday present, of course. But there’s a condition—you have to promise to marry me.”
Later, her business grew bigger and bigger. We moved into a larger house, and life gradually became comfortable.
But I kept wearing this inexpensive watch.
She once suggested I get a more expensive one, but I refused without hesitation.
Because in my heart, it had earned an irreplaceable place.
Remembering how she looked at me with such love in her eyes during my birthday celebration, I took off the watch and placed it on the nightstand.
Her words from the past seemed to still echo in my ears.
But everything had changed.
This watch—I didn’t want to keep it anymore either.
In the early morning hours, Taylor called: “There are still issues with the project that haven’t been resolved. I won’t be coming home tonight. Don’t wait up for me—get some rest.”
Before I could respond, she hung up.
With alcohol still coursing through my veins, I simply collapsed onto the living room carpet and fell into a deep sleep.
In my dreams, time rewound to that summer when Taylor and I first met.
Under the blazing sun, her roommate pushed her toward me, and she stammered, “You look like my boyfriend.”
That straightforward yet clumsy pickup line became the beginning of our story.
Because of that line, her roommates crowned me the “love guru.”
After that, she kept finding excuses to ask me out for spaghetti.
Even though we weren’t in the same college, I somehow kept running into her everywhere.
Not long after the semester started, many people confessed their feelings to me, but initially I had no interest in Taylor.
But she was like a little sun, slowly winning me over.
We went through undergrad and graduate school together.
The day I graduated with my PhD, she pulled out a pair of rings and asked if I would marry her.
I didn’t answer—I just dropped to one knee and pulled out the ring I’d been carrying in my pocket.
She said yes without hesitation.
She threw herself into my arms, tears in her eyes, saying, “George, I want to love you forever. We’ll never be apart, okay?”
Now, she’s the one pushing me away.
Lies have become the sword that’s splitting us apart.
*****
The next morning, a colleague’s call woke me up. The throw pillow was soaked with tears.
Taylor never came home.
I told myself: this is the last time I’ll cry over her.
After a quick wash in the bathroom, I drove to the hospital.
Even though I’d decided to leave, I couldn’t abandon the work that needed to be handed over, and I had several patients with appointments to see.
That’s how brutal life is after entering the workforce—no matter how you’re feeling today, work still has to get done.
While waiting at a red light, I opened my phone and texted my lawyer friend, asking about divorce procedures.
There was no hysteria between us, no fighting.
I didn’t need another woman to suddenly appear and rescue me from my pain.
I had loved Taylor deeply, but I could still live a fulfilling life without her.
In my world, there’s always been only one protagonist—myself.
This marriage had reached its end.
After submitting my resignation letter to the director, I threw myself into work.
Patient after patient kept me dizzy with busyness, temporarily pushing thoughts of Taylor to the back of my mind.
But I never expected that before I could confront Taylor, she would show up on her own.
I was holding post-operative reports, about to find the family to discuss post-care instructions, when I spotted that familiar figure around a corner in the hallway.
Taylor was clutching Jayden’s arm as they rushed into the emergency department.
The room they entered was exactly the one I was heading to.
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My boyfriend’s obsession was to have a kid, but he was infertile—so he tricked his identical twin into getting me pregnant.
I gave myself completely to Owen that night, fully aware he wasn’t Brian.
The next morning, I complimented my real boyfriend.
“Babe, you were amazing last night. I’ve never felt that satisfied before!”
His face went completely drained of color like I’d slapped him.
Behind that frozen expression, I saw it—that flicker of something. Guilt? Fear? Jealousy?
“Who do you like better? Your boyfriend in bed last night, or the one making you breakfast right now?”
I wrapped my arms around his and smiled like a lovestruck newlywed.
“I love how gentle you are in the daylight. But… last night?” I giggled. “I really liked that wild version of you!”
——
At the breakfast table, Brian looked oddly brightened up as he turned to the man sitting beside him.
“Bro, Jessica made this coffee herself. You should really try it.”
As he spoke, he pushed a steaming cup of coffee toward his older brother, who had just returned from Norway.
Across the table, I looked up at Owen.
He was dressed in a black business suit, hair still slightly damp from a morning shower. The crystal chandelier above the dining room cast a soft glow over him, making his features more defined. Handsome didn’t even begin to cover it.
He didn’t say a word. His lips were pressed into a line, his blue eyes unreadable.
And just like that, everything came rushing back—I had been reborn.
In my previous life, Brian had drugged his brother and tricked him into sleeping with me. He was desperate for me to get pregnant. All because he couldn’t have kids himself.
He needed the baby to win his grandfather’s favor and secure his share of the inheritance.
And it worked. After I got pregnant, he used the child to get sixty percent of the PWL Corp. shares.
But once he had what he wanted, he locked me up in a basement and tormented me day after day like I was useless.
I never understood why—until the day his mistress threw acid in my face and spat out the truth.
The baby wasn’t his.
It was his brother’s.
To him, I was ruined. A walking stain on his perfect image. Just like me, our child was a disgrace. Brian couldn’t stand the sight of us.
In the end, I set that basement on fire, trapping him and his mistress in the flames.
Brian, his mistress, and I—none of us made it out alive.
Back at the table, Brian’s voice broke through my thoughts.
“Come on, bro. Take a sip. Don’t let Jessica’s effort go to waste.”
I looked at his overly eager face and suddenly felt sick to my stomach.
That coffee… I obviously made it for him. But here he was, acting like it was some kind of offering for another guy.
In my past life, I thought the brothers were just close.
Now, I could see it for what it really was. A setup. One piece in a bigger plan.
“Really? If she made it herself,” Owen said after a beat, his eyes locked on mine, “how could I say no?”
He picked up the cup and took a sip.
That was when another memory came flooding back.
I was back in the fire. The smoke, the heat, the pain—and him, tearing through the flames to get to me.
He’d held me tightly, his voice trembling as he whispered, “Jessica! Jessica! Hang on. I’m here. I’ll get you out!”
But the fire was too strong. None of us made it.
At the very end, when the smoke and heat had nearly taken everything, he was still holding me—his arms wrapped around me as he leaned in close and murmured against my cheek.
“Jessica… I love you.”
Back in the present, I didn’t cling to Brian like I had in my last life.
Instead, I turned to Owen with a warm smile and said softly, “If you like it, I can make one more cup for you.”
As soon as I offered that, both guys turned their heads to look at me.
Owen didn’t react much, but Brian’s expression twitched for a second, like something about my words caught him off guard. Still, he didn’t say anything. Just pressed his lips together and kept quiet.
That night, as I passed by the study after my shower, I noticed a soft, soft light leaking through the cracked door.
Inside, Alice Susan—Brian’s childhood sweetheart—was perched on his desk, tugging playfully at his tie.
“Brian,” she said with a teasing smirk, “are you seriously gonna let your brother sleep with Jessica?”
She let go of the tie and tilted her head. “I mean, I remember how hard you chased after her back then. It hasn’t been that long. You really don’t mind just handing her over?”
Brian grabbed her waist and leaned in to kiss her. His lips landed right on her bright red mouth.
“You gotta give something up to catch the big prize,” he said with against her mouth.
“I’ve always been second to my brother. If I don’t beat him to it—get a kid first and let Grandpa hold a great-grandchild—then I’ll never matter in his eyes.”
“And anyway,” Brian said with a smug grin, “I’ve already had a taste of Jessica. Honestly? Nothing special. Just average.”
“You, though—” His finger slid down Alice’s collarbone. “You’re spicy. You give me the thrill.”
Laughter erupted between them, low and dirty. The two practically melted into each other, tangled up in kisses.
I stood frozen just outside the room, my fists clenched tight at my sides.
But I held it down. Going off on him now would be like throwing myself at a brick wall—it would only hurt me.
The Rosalind family were one of the most powerful in Manchester. And me… I was just a broke college student in my third year. Just a nobody.
If Brian wanted to get rid of me, he could do it as easily as stepping on a bug.
I knew that because he’d already done it once.
In my last life, I tried everything—ran away, begged for help, even called the cops. But nothing worked. I was always dragged right back to him.
So this time, I kept my head down, pressed my back to the wall, and crept down the hallway, back to the bedroom. My feet barely made a sound against the floor.
When I slipped into the room, I could still hear the faint sound of their moaning behind me. My chest tightened.
Brian had known I was in the shower. And still, he brought Alice into the study and did that with her.
That alone showed he didn’t see me as his girlfriend. Not even close.
Lying on the bed, I could almost feel the heat of that fire from my past life crawling up my skin again. The agony, the helplessness, the hatred—it came rushing back.
I swallowed hard, shoved the memories down, and grabbed the blow dryer.
After drying my hair, I climbed into bed and turned on my side. My fingers curled into the blanket, my eyes wide open in the dark.
My jaw tightened. I wasn’t going to let this life go the same way. I’d find a way out—whatever it took.
Minutes passed. Then I heard footsteps stumbling in the hallway, slow and heavy.
“Hey, hey. Hey—wrong room, bro. It’s this one,” Brian’s voice said with a laugh.
Soon, the door creaked open. I kept my back to the door, pretending to sleep, even as I heard Brian guide a clearly drunk Owen into the room.
The door creaked open. Footsteps stopped just inside.
There was a pause—long enough to make my skin crawl—then the sound of Brian’s low, satisfied exhale.
I didn’t need to see his face to know he was pleased. Maybe it was the empty glass on the nightstand, or the sight of me curled tightly under the blanket, playing my part.
Then came his voice, smug and casual. “This is your room, bro. Now, get some sleep.”
I felt the mattress shift as Owen dropped down beside me. A clean, bitter-orange scent filled the air—his cologne, faint and unfamiliar.
The door clicked shut behind Brian as he left, careful not to make a sound.
But the next second, something was off.
The man beside me suddenly sat upright. His back was straight, his eyes fixed on the ceiling like he was wide awake.
My eyes narrowed. ‘Didn’t he drink the whole cup of coffee? Shouldn’t he be knocked out by now?’
That thought startled me, so I sat up like he’d woken me.
“Brian?” I mumbled sleepily, rubbing my eyes. “Why’d you come in so late?”
Owen turned his head slowly to look at me. Moonlight filtered through the window, lighting up his face.
His eyes were cold, sharp—and something else I couldn’t quite place.
I scooted closer and wrapped my arms around him. “You weren’t here, and I got scared… I had this horrible nightmare,” I said softly, pressing my cheek to his shoulder.
He stiffened in my embrace but didn’t move away.
I watched his face carefully. ‘He doesn’t look dazed or drugged at all. So he’s faking it? He knows what’s going on. Then why go along with it?’
I contemplated, ‘Does he… Does he actually like me? Besides, back in my last life, he died with me. Voluntarily.’
I couldn’t be sure what he felt now, but I knew one thing—I had to hold onto whatever this was. It might be the only shot I had at surviving.
Leaning in, I brushed my lips against the corner of his mouth.
“Brian… I want you,” I whispered.
I caught his eyes flickering.
Then he grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His voice dropped, low and dangerous. “What did you just call me?”
I blinked my round almond-shaped eyes, pretending not to understand. “What? I called you… Brian?”
His brows drew together.
“Call me babe,” he said.
I froze. “What?”
I could feel my face flush instantly.
He leaned in closer, his teeth grazing my lower lip. “Be good,” he murmured, “Call me babe, and I’ll give you what you want.”
I bit my lip, then lowered my head. Like a good girl, I whispered, “B-Babe.”
In that instant, it was like a match had been struck.
He crushed his mouth against mine, kissing me hard, almost like he was angry. His hand slipped around my waist and yanked me down onto the mattress.
His lips moved fast and rough, trailing heat down my neck as his fingers fumbled with the buttons of my pajamas, popping them open one by one.
His hand slid up along my side, warm and demanding.
He’d just gotten back from Norway, barely around during the day.
We’d only seen each other maybe three times.
I still had no idea why he’d fallen for me in our past life.
But the fact that he took the coffee without any reaction this time?
That alone told me—things were already playing out differently.
‘Unless… he’s been reborn too?’
The thought popped into my head out of nowhere, and before I could fully process it, Owen had already hit his limit.
His jaw was clenched so tight that I could imagine the veins on his forehead bulging. His eyes were bloodshot, blazing red with desire. But even then, there was still a trace of clarity in his gaze. He was fighting it.
He ground his teeth and looked at me. “Jessica, actually… I’m—”
And right then, I knew. He really had been reborn.
‘Perfect. That’ll make my revenge so much easier.’
So I didn’t let him finish. Instead, I slipped my arms around his neck and kissed him first.
Whatever self-control he had left vanished instantly.
He kissed me back, hard—wild, fevered, and utterly dominant.
Again and again and again…
The last round ended in the bathroom, with my back against the wall.
He had one hand under my thighs, holding me up, and I had both arms wrapped tightly around his waist.
But the bastard was teasing me—on purpose—not going in.
I let out a frustrated breath, leaned in, and gave his Adam’s apple a playful but urgent bite.
“Come on already…”
He let out a quiet chuckle, his voice husky as he slid a hand up the back of my head. “Say it again.”
“R-Brian…”
“Wrong name!”
Just like that, he thrust into me—hard. Like punishment.
“Ah…”
My whole body curled into his as a tremble shot through me.
“Call me babe,” he growled low in my ear, his voice rough and magnetic, like it was pulling me under.
I bit down on the back of my hand and whimpered, “Babe. Babe… Babe…”
The third time I said it, something in him snapped.
He lost control completely.
He moved like a man possessed. My body went soft in his arms, like a fish out of water—lips parted, gasping, barely able to breathe.
By the time I woke up, it was still dark out.
But Owen… He was already gone.
I slipped on my pajama robe and padded out of the bedroom quietly.
Sure enough, there was light coming from the study.
I leaned against the wall and peeked through the crack of the door.
Owen was lounging lazily on the couch in the sitting area while Brian stood across from him, fuming.
“Bro, how the hell could you go into the wrong room?”
He was livid—face flushed, voice shaking.
“Do you have any idea? Jessica is the woman I love most in this world!”
Owen just crossed his legs, lit a cigarette, and gave him a slow sideways glance.
“Really? I had no idea.” He blew out a lazy puff of smoke before adding, “Didn’t you just sneak out of the guest bedroom downstairs? Out of Alice’s bed?”
Brian flared up instantly. “That was… That was her! Alice tempted me!”
Owen gave a cold laugh. “Too late for excuses. So what do you want now?”
Brian’s tone shifted immediately. He stole a glance at his brother’s face and changed tactics.
“I mean, it’s just a woman, right? No big deal. If you like her, I don’t mind stepping back for a bit. You can play around with her.”
“But,” he added casually, like he hadn’t just called me a toy, “you know that Project Shoreline—Grandpa gave it to you the moment you came back. I’ve been managing it all this time. I’d really like to keep it.”
Owen smirked, like he’d been waiting for him to say that.
“Sure,” he said easily. “I’ll talk to Grandpa tomorrow. Tell him you’ll stay in charge of that project.”
He paused, his tone light but sharp. “Just remember—you take full responsibility. Profit or loss, it’s all on you.”
Brian agreed immediately. He looked like he’d just won the lottery.
As soon as Owen stood up, I turned around and dashed back to the bedroom. I dove under the covers, shut my eyes, and pretended to be fast asleep.
The next time I woke up, it was already noon.
Still in my camisole, I made my way downstairs.
The moment I reached the corner, I spotted Brian sitting at the dining table.
My footsteps froze.
I stared hard at the back of his head, unable to look away.
Almost like he could feel it, he turned and looked straight at me.
He frowned, looking a little irritated. “You just woke up? It’s lunchtime already.”
I took a breath, settled my expression, and walked down the stairs slowly, my steps graceful and unhurried.
Once I reached him, I sat down beside him and shot him a playful look, my tone half-teasing, half-accusing.
“Well, whose fault do you think it is? You were so wild last night my body couldn’t handle it!”
His hand froze mid-slice. The knife scraped across the plate with a loud screech, metal against porcelain. It was sharp, grating just like the tension that suddenly filled the room.
I tilted my head, feigning confusion. “Brian? What’s wrong?”
His gaze dropped immediately to the red marks scattered along my collarbone and chest—obvious signs left behind from last night.
I let my cheeks flush like I was shy about it, but I couldn’t resist smiling just a little. Still, I kept up the act and praised him sweetly.
“You were amazing last night, babe. Seriously, I’ve never felt that satisfied before.”
Right then, I caught his breath hitch—just for a second—and saw his hand curl into a tight fist under the table. His voice came out low and cold, laced with something sharp.
“Never… before?”
Crap. I blinked and quickly clapped my hand over my mouth, as if realizing I’d slipped. But then I leaned toward him with a teasing smile and gave him a playful wink.
“Oops, did I say that out loud? I mean—you’ve always been amazing, of course!”
Brian stiffened. His face darkened instantly, turning the color of burned toast.
I pretended not to notice and looked at him with wide-eyed admiration. “But last night? Wow. You were especially incredible.”
He stared at me blankly like his brain had suddenly shut down. He didn’t even blink.
So I stood up and stepped behind him, wrapping my arms gently around his shoulders. Leaning in close, I whispered against his ear, my voice soft and full of fake shyness.
“You really don’t know how to hold back, do you?” I let out a little laugh before adding, “The bathroom was one thing, but the windowsill? What if someone saw us? I would’ve died of embarrassment!”
He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles were twitching.
A long, tense silence followed before he finally grabbed my wrists and shoved me gently back into my seat.
“Just eat your damn breakfast.”
I smiled sweetly and picked up my knife and fork like a well-behaved little wife.
But I could hear the way his breathing grew more and more uneven, like he was fighting to stay calm.
Then, out of nowhere, he slammed his utensils down, the sharp clatter breaking the silence. He pushed back his chair with a screech and stood up abruptly.
“I’ve got stuff to do. I’m heading out.”
I gave him a bright, understanding smile and nodded. “Okay! Oh—and if you pass by that bakery, bring me back one of those strawberry cupcakes I love!”
His fists clenched at his sides again, and his voice came out low and tight. “Yeah. I know.”
Since it was summer break, I didn’t have to worry about school. After finishing my meal, I brought my laptop into the garden room, nestled among the flowers and warm sunlight.
I spent the afternoon online, looking up a few things and ordering a couple items. By the time I closed my laptop, the sky outside had turned golden-pink with sunset, and the air inside was thick with the scent of blooming flowers.
I stretched lazily and let out a deep sigh. ‘Honestly? Rich people really do know how to enjoy life.’
Right then, a tall shadow fell over me.
Someone leaned in, plucked the frameless glasses off my nose, and held them casually in his fingers.
Startled, I looked up. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if it was Brian or Owen.
The two of them looked ridiculously alike.
But after last night’s madness, I’d figured out their differences—tiny details but enough.
Owen had a birth mark at the outer corner of his eye, like a teardrop, no bigger than a pinhead. It was barely visible unless you were up close. And he had a faded and pale scar across his chest, the kind that looked like it had been there for years.
“Want some?” he asked casually, holding up a small box with strawberry cupcakes inside.
That snapped me out of it immediately.
Grinning, I jumped up and wrapped my arms around his, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
“Thank you, Brian!”
Without missing a beat, I opened the box, scooped up some of the strawberry jam with my finger, and held it up to his lips.
“Here, try it. It’s really good!”
His eyes flickered, and I saw his throat move as he swallowed. Then, without a word, he opened his mouth and took my whole fingertip in, his lips warm and soft around it.
And just then…
“What the hell are you two doing?!” a furious voice exploded from the door.
Brian was back.
And my finger—still in Owen’s mouth.
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