Category: English

“Dad! I… I’m over here!” “Nicky, cover your nose and mouth, stop talking.” By the time my son and I realized the building was on fire, the flames had already spread too far. All we could do was hide in our room. My husband, Ethan Cole, was the one leading the rescue team today. When Nicky and I saw him from upstairs, we thought our savior had arrived. I had texted him the hotel address and our room number before we went on the trip. But when Ethan made it to our floor, he passed right by our room and went straight to the next door—to rescue Allison and Lucas. Nicky couldn’t hold it in anymore. Crying, he asked me: “Mom, Ms. Allie is here too… and Dad only cares about them… Is he going to leave us again? Mom, I can’t… I can’t breathe… it’s too hard…” The room was full of smoke. Nicky was only five years old, and he was starting to lose strength. Frantically, I wet a towel and covered his mouth and nose, hugging him as I rushed to the door. “Ethan! Nicky can’t hold on much longer, please save us!” “Ethan, I’m begging you!” Just this once, could he turn around and look at us? Ethan passed right by our door again. I screamed at him, my voice raw and breaking, but he didn’t even stop. Through the roaring flames, all I could hear was him speaking softly to Allison. “Don’t worry, Allie. I’m here. You and Lucas are going to be okay.” The smoke was choking me, clouding my thoughts. I tried to cover Nicky’s ears, but it was too late. His eyes were filled with tears, and his pupils had already begun to fade. “Why… why can’t Dad ever see me?” “I… I yelled so… so loud…” Cough cough “Mom… I’m sorry I can’t… stay with you any longer…” “In my next life, Mom… please… give me a different Dad… okay?” Nicky’s hand went limp as he finished speaking. My mind went blank, a buzzing silence filled my head, leaving me with nothing but the sensation of nails being driven into my chest, the pain unbearable. I struggled to my feet, clinging tightly to his little body, tears flooding my eyes uncontrollably. “Okay, Mom will listen to you. Just don’t sleep, Nicky. Please, hold on a little longer. Mom’s going to get you out!” Thick smoke was everywhere. I couldn’t even see Nicky’s face anymore. The floor was scorching hot, and so was the door. Flames were eating away at my body, burning me and my son together. How much pain must my baby be in? I sobbed, trying desperately to put out the flames on his small body, but nothing worked. The smoke was overwhelming, and the fire was too big. When I couldn’t walk any further, I crawled. But it felt like the hallway was endless. In the end, it was the other firefighters who came and found us, pulling us out and taking us to the hospital. Ethan brought Allison and her son to the room next to ours. But just like at the fire, with a single wall between us, he never noticed Nicky and me. His whole world was consumed by Allison and her son. The doctors wanted to take me away to treat my burns. I refused. I knelt on the floor, begging them, over and over again, to save my son. “He’s just really tired. He’s only sleeping. Please, save him!” The doctors sighed as they took Nicky into the ER. The defibrillator shocked his little body again and again, but he never opened his eyes. One of the doctors said, “The child suffered a lot in the fire. Don’t make him suffer any more in death.” Yes… Nicky was always so afraid of pain. How could he bear this? I was severely burned all over, so I called my brother, Daniel, to handle Nicky’s funeral and to start the process for my divorce from Ethan. The divorce papers were ready the day I was injured, and I signed them immediately. But I couldn’t reach Ethan. His phone was off—just like it was the day of the fire. Then it hit me. He’d blocked me again. Whenever he was with Allison and Lucas and didn’t want to deal with me, he would block my number. When he was in a better mood, he’d unblock me. I’d put up with this for six years, but at that moment, I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion and disgust. Daniel went to the funeral home to arrange Nicky’s service, leaving just me and a nurse in my hospital room. I asked the nurse to help me into my wheelchair. I needed to go see Ethan next door. I couldn’t stand this ridiculous marriage for even one more second.

The room next door was a private room too. I come from money, and with my monthly salary of $20,000, I never needed to rely on Ethan’s income. With the little he makes as a firefighter, it’s a struggle just to support our family, let alone afford a private room for Allison and her son. They’d barely been singed by the fire, with only some smoke stains on their faces and a few minor burns, but Ethan was doting on them like it was the end of the world. I thought about Nicky’s charred, unrecognizable little body, and my chest tightened so painfully that I could hardly breathe. It’s true, love makes all the difference. “Ethan Cole!” I gritted my teeth, spitting out his name. Ethan turned his head to look at me, the smile on his face vanishing instantly, his brow furrowing. “Rachel, who said you could come in here? Get out!” I wore a hat and mask to cover my burns so I wouldn’t scare anyone. But I was in a hospital gown, sitting in a wheelchair—anyone with half a brain could see I wasn’t in good shape. Yet Ethan seemed blind to that. All he cared about was that I might disturb Allison and her son’s recovery. He immediately got up to push me out of the room, not forgetting to scold me on the way. “I’ve told you a thousand times, Allie and I are just friends. How many more times do I have to explain this? Her husband passed away years ago, and she doesn’t have any family to help. Can you stop being so petty and jealous every time?” I’ve heard these lectures so many times that I’ve grown numb to them. Allison didn’t have a husband, but she had Ethan. I had a husband too, but it felt like I didn’t. When the water pipes in our home burst and soaked through the downstairs ceiling, Ethan was at Allie’s house, changing her lightbulbs, telling me not to rely on him for every little thing. In the end, it was Derek Shaw who helped me. When I got into a car accident, Ethan was with Allie, helping her pick out baby clothes, telling me to stop causing problems. When Nicky had a high fever in the middle of the night and started seizing, Ethan stayed at Allie’s place, comforting her son Lucas, who had been scared by a horror movie, and told me not to make such a big deal. These kinds of things happened over and over again. Looking at Ethan now, standing there so righteously, I felt a wave of nausea. I didn’t even want to waste a word on him. “You sign these divorce papers, and I’ll leave. You won’t have to worry about me bothering your happy little family anymore.” I shoved the divorce papers toward him. But Ethan thought I was just trying to cause a scene. He didn’t take the papers, just said irritably, “When Allie and Lucas are better, I’ll come home. Can you stop with this nonsense?” He always promised me the same thing, but this time, I had no hope left: “If you don’t sign, I’ll have my lawyer take it to court. And by the way, Nicky’s funeral is in six days, you…” Before I could finish, Allison groaned softly from inside the room, “Ethan, it hurts…” “Don’t worry, I’m coming!” Ethan replied urgently, full of concern. Without even asking about his own son’s funeral, he rushed back into the room. I stared at the closed door, feeling like a thousand knives were stabbing me in the chest. I don’t even remember how I got back to my room—just the suffocating tightness in my lungs that wouldn’t let up. Ethan didn’t ask a single thing about Nicky, not even up until the day of the funeral. Even when the service was about to start, the father of the child still hadn’t shown up. The guests started whispering to each other— “Where is the father? Why isn’t he here yet?” “I heard he’s at the hospital with some woman and her kid. That woman’s supposed to be his ex.” “Still, how could he miss his own son’s funeral? That’s outrageous—this was his son!” Everyone looked at me with pity in their eyes. Some people, worried I might break down, came over to comfort me. I thought of all the times Nicky had looked at his dad with hopeful eyes, always waiting for him to spend time with him. It felt like thorns were crawling up my throat, every breath laced with pain. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into the blisters on my palms. The sharp pain was the only thing that helped me hold back the flood of anger. This was Nicky’s final farewell to the world. I couldn’t let it be ruined. I turned to my brother. “Dan, call Ethan. He’s blocked me again.” Dan’s face darkened as he dialed Ethan’s number. He got through quickly. “Ethan, today is Nicky’s funeral. You…” “Rachel, when are you going to stop? Allie and her son are in the hospital with burns and infections, and I’m here taking care of them, doing what’s right. Can you stop being so bitter and seeing everything as dirty? Did you really think you could lie to me about Nicky’s death just to get my attention? Unbelievable.” Ethan was angrier than I was. He hung up the phone right after saying that. No wonder he hadn’t reacted at all when I told him Nicky had died… He thought I was making it up. I’d been accused of being irrational and jealous so many times before, but this time, I was shaking with fury, too stunned to even speak. Ethan had been shouting so loud that Dan, standing right next to me, had heard everything. Dan grabbed the phone from me and sent Ethan a picture of Nicky’s death certificate, then called him again. Each word came out of his throat like a growl. “Ethan, do you see it now? Nicky has been dead for a week. You haven’t shown your face once, and you have the nerve to call yourself his father? Are you even human?!”

Dan had already said everything that needed to be said. Anyone with half a brain would know that Nicky’s funeral wasn’t some sick joke. I thought that once Ethan understood the truth, he would apologize, feel guilty, regretful. But instead, he hung up the phone without a word. He didn’t show up—not even after the funeral ended. I spent the entire service trying to hold myself together. I don’t remember who was there or what they said to me. Nothing registered. All I could do was sit in my wheelchair, staring at Nicky’s gravestone with his smiling picture on it, haunted by the sound of his voice, echoing in my ears. “Mom, it hurts so much!” “Mom, didn’t Dad know which room we were staying in? Then how did he remember Ms. Allie and Lucas were in the room next door?” “I yelled so loud, Mom… Why couldn’t Dad hear me? Mom, are we going to die?” Those words played on repeat, over and over, like invisible threads wrapping tightly around me, trapping me in a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. After the funeral, Dan took me straight to the emergency room. The burns on my body had become severely infected after spending so long outside. I had a high fever, and my mind was foggy, drifting in and out between reality and dreams. All I could remember was someone holding my hand and saying, over and over, “Rachel, don’t fall asleep!” When I finally stabilized and was moved to a regular room, ten days had already passed. Ethan was sitting by my hospital bed, his eyes ringed with exhaustion, his face unshaven. He looked nothing like the man I once knew. When he saw me wake up, his face lit up with relief. “Rachel, you’re finally awake! I…” As soon as I saw him, all the anger, the despair, the suffocating pain I’d been holding in exploded inside me, threatening to crush me. Slap! I sat up, gritting my teeth, and slapped Ethan hard across the face. How dare he show his face here?! His cheek swelled immediately, and his eyes filled with bitterness. “I know I should have gone to Nicky’s funeral. That was my fault. If you’re angry, take it out on me, but don’t keep it bottled up—it’s bad for your health.” Allison stepped forward, her face pale as she dropped to her knees in front of me. With a single blink, tears began streaming down her face. “I’m sorry, Rachel. If you need someone to blame, blame me. Lucas had a heart attack that day, and I was terrified. Ethan was just trying to take care of us, and that’s why he missed Nicky’s funeral.” “This is all my fault. You can hit me if you want, just please don’t ruin your marriage because of me!” Allison grabbed my hands and pressed them to her face. She had pulled this act so many times before, and every time I never knew how to respond. But this time— Slap! I slapped her across the face, and when that wasn’t enough, I slapped her again, harder. “You’re disgusting! Truly disgusting! Out of all the men in the world, you had to go after one that was already taken? Does stealing someone else’s husband make you feel good about yourself?” I was ready to hit her a third time when Ethan, face flushed with anger, grabbed my wrist. “That’s enough! I’ve told you a thousand times, Allie and I are just friends! She’s a single mother with no one else to help her. Why do you have to turn this into something dirty?” I yanked my hand out of his grip. I didn’t even have the energy to argue with him anymore. I just pointed toward the door, full of contempt. “Get out.” “Rachel, how can you treat Ethan like this? He’s only trying to…” Allison still tried to play innocent. I grabbed whatever I could reach and hurled it at them both. “Get out! Both of you!” Ethan looked at me with a complicated expression, but soon, he turned and shielded Allison as they left the room. I used to feel heartbroken watching scenes like that. Now, I just felt numb.

I was raised in a wealthy family, while Ethan Cole came from humble beginnings as a firefighter. We should never have crossed paths. But one night, my best friend, heartbroken from a breakup, dragged me out to a bar to drink. The bar caught fire, and in my most desperate moment, Ethan found me and risked his life to save me. He was handsome and had just saved my life. I became infatuated with him. When I found out he was single, I pursued him relentlessly. It took a while, but he eventually agreed to date me, and soon after, he proposed. Ethan was always a gentle man. He smiled at everyone and never let anyone or anything get under his skin. No matter how strange or chaotic the situation, he always remained calm. When you first met him, you’d think he was an open book—easy to approach. But over time, I realized just how hard it was to truly connect with him. After we got married, Ethan handed over his entire paycheck and took care of all the housework. Everyone said I’d married the perfect husband. But to me, his kindness felt more like politeness. Even when we were intimate, it felt like he was just going through the motions—like a duty. It was as if there was an invisible barrier between us. I thought he was like that with everyone. That is, until Allison came back from overseas after her divorce, and for the first time, I saw Ethan lose control. It was our wedding anniversary, but Ethan took the day off from work to spend it with Allison, and he didn’t even come home that night. That’s when I found out Allison was his ex-girlfriend. They’d started dating in middle school and were together for nearly ten years. They were deeply in love. Their families disapproved, though, and in the end, they were forced to break up. Ethan told me that Allison’s husband had passed away, and she was struggling to raise her child on her own. He was just trying to help her out, and he swore he’d never done anything to betray me. I believed him. And that’s why I lost so completely. I forgot that betrayal isn’t always physical infidelity. After Ethan left, he flooded me with messages—paragraphs of text, one after another. I didn’t bother reading a single one. I blocked his number and his social media and called my brother, Dan, to have him fire Allison from the company. At the time, I didn’t know she was Ethan’s ex. I’d heard she was a struggling single mom, and since she worked in media, I thought I was being generous by giving her a job at my company. Looking back, I’m sure plenty of people must’ve had a good laugh at my expense. The day after Allison got fired, Ethan came storming into the hospital. He was furious, his brows knitted together. “Rachel, if you want to be mad at me, fine! I can handle that. But firing Allie just because I’ve been helping her? You’re letting your jealousy get the better of you. She still has to provide for her son—how could you do this to her?” I stared at him coldly. “It’s my company. I can fire whoever I want. If you don’t like it, feel free to find your precious Allie a new job. I’m not stopping at firing her. Every penny you spent on her while we were still married—I want it back.” Be considerate of Allison? I was. And look where it got me. She was one step away from sleeping in my bed with my husband! Ethan’s face darkened. “Rachel, I’ve told you time and time again—I’ve done nothing to betray you. Allison is my ex, but I only see her as a friend now!” “Friend, friend, friend…” I was so sick of hearing that word. And sick of his self-righteous attitude. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “A friend more important than me and Nicky?!” “Nicky’s funeral was ten days ago, Ethan. If you cared even a little about me and our son, you’d know that he died in room 1217—right next to Allison’s room!” “Nicky screamed for you. He begged for his father while watching you break protocol, ignoring our room so you could save another woman and her child!” “I’m not asking you to favor us over them. But you could’ve at least asked if there was anyone else in the room when you saved them. Or maybe not tell the other firefighters that the floor was clear! If you had, Nicky might still be alive!” I was shouting, hysterical, pouring out all the anger and pain that had been festering inside me. Ethan just stood there, the frustration on his face fading into something dull and lifeless. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His eyes were suddenly full of pain and fear.

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“Jack, I’m taking Emmy downstairs for a bit!” Standing by the door with Emily in her stroller, I took one last look back at Jack, sprawled on the couch watching the game, and silently said goodbye to him in my heart: Rest in peace, Jack. Returning to work after maternity leave, I couldn’t wait to see my baby girl. I gave my manager a quick heads-up and left early to head home. As I approached our front door, voices drifted out from inside. “Don’t worry. She won’t be back for at least another two hours.” That voice belonged to my husband, Jack Hale. “Right. Says the guy who ignored me for half an hour last night to rock his little princess to sleep,” a woman’s voice teased. My mind went blank as I heard Jack soothingly reply, “Once she’s gone, Emily will be your daughter, too. She’s a baby; she won’t know the difference. After all, if you’ve got milk, you’re the mom.” Then, I heard sounds that left no room for doubt. Frozen in place, the devastating truth settled over me. Jack was cheating on me. We’d known each other since high school, growing together from prom to wedding vows. After three years of marriage, our lives had settled into a routine. Jack quit his big tech job earlier this year to open Jack’s Hardware, aiming to help with Emmy after she was born and spare me from solo parenting. I’d cried at his thoughtfulness, and the shop had done well enough that he hired a part-time employee. He’d been a doting partner through my entire recovery. Just last night, we’d been planning our move to the new house we’d remodeled, where the paint fumes had finally aired out. But now, under the searing late-afternoon August sun, reality struck me harder than anything before. Standing outside, I waited until I saw a tall woman with wavy hair strut out of the building. I ducked behind a car, catching my reflection in its window, noting how pregnancy had altered my once-trim figure. I’d always taken pride in my looks. Jack had always said that whether we had a boy or a girl, he just wanted a child of his own. I’d endured countless shots to keep our baby healthy, ultimately blessed with Emmy. At nearly six, I entered our apartment with groceries in hand. Hearing the door, Jack padded out in his slippers. “Hey, hon! I made some iced green bean soup—it’s in the fridge if you want a bowl.” “Sure, I’ll take one.” As I switched my shoes, his words from earlier echoed in my mind: Once she’s gone. Jack wanted me dead. And not only had he cheated, but he was planning to kill me. Somehow, though, my shock turned to an eerie calmness. Over dinner, Jack mentioned his mom wanting to come help with Emmy since I was back at work, and he was juggling the store and caring for her. I thought for a moment, then replied, “There’s only one bed here. When your mom comes, there won’t be space. How about we just move into the new house now?” But Jack hesitated, “I’ll take the couch. It’s summer; I’ll be fine there. You two can use the bed.” I nodded, “Sure, it’ll be nice to have her help.” I’d always found it odd how Jack had been so reluctant to move into the new house, even though it was ready ages ago. Turns out, he’d been planning to get rid of me and move in with her. After Emmy was asleep, Jack handed me an insurance form to sign. He’d mentioned getting life insurance back when I was pregnant, saying we needed to think about Emmy’s future and that this would protect her in case anything happened. So, we both got policies listing Emily as the sole beneficiary. “All right, so if I die in an accident, it’s a million?” I tightened my fingers around the paper. Right then, Carol Wilson, our neighbor, popped by with a few peaches. “A friend of ours brought over a whole box. Too much for us, so we thought of you!” She glanced at the insurance paperwork on the coffee table. “What are you two up to?” “Oh, I’m just talking with Megan about getting a policy,” Jack said smoothly. “Aunt Carol, does it really pay out a million?” I said, feigning innocence. “Jack’s looked at a bunch of policies and keeps bugging me to sign it before prices go up.” Carol’s interest piqued. “Honey, insurance is a pain to pay, but it sure comes in handy when you need it. Just last year, my husband’s cancer was covered under his policy, and we got thirty grand from it.” Jack shot me a look that said, See? “I don’t know much about insurance, but Jack says it’ll give us peace of mind,” I shrugged. “But maybe I’ll study up on it first.” Carol nodded approvingly, “You’re right to think it through. Accident insurance isn’t like health insurance. You’re far more likely to get sick in your life than to get in an accident.” She didn’t notice Jack’s face freeze for a moment as she said it. “Insurance is just a safety net. You never know what might happen tomorrow,” Jack joked, glancing at me. “If I die, at least I’d leave you and Emmy a little something.” I punched his shoulder, “Quit saying stuff like that.” “Don’t tempt fate, Jack!” Carol said, waving us off with a chuckle as she left. That night, I headed to the bathroom. There was a faint humming noise coming from the water heater. Our building was old, built in the early 2000s, and all the units used electric water heaters. Ours was secondhand, bought from the last tenants, and I’d wanted to replace it last year, but we’d planned to move, so we let it be. Holding my toothbrush, I stared thoughtfully at the worn appliance. Back in bed, Jack was scrolling on his phone. When I walked over, he quickly set it face down. On the nightstand, a baby monitor showed Emmy’s crib. “Jack, you really want that insurance?” I asked, raising my voice a bit. Jack rolled over, “It’s a solid policy. I’m telling you…” He launched into a long list of benefits. I yawned, agreeing casually, “All right, sure. Too late now, though. Tomorrow, then.” “Great!” In the dim light, I caught the gleam of excitement in his eyes. The next morning, I headed downstairs for work. Jack hurried out, waving the insurance form, and caught me as I was about to leave. Right then, Carol and some other neighbors walked by, bags of groceries in hand. “What’s the rush, Jack?” Carol asked, eyeing the form in his hand. “Oh, it’s that insurance from last night. He just wants me to sign it,” I said, signing my name with a smile. “Can’t help it; he calls the shots around here. Gotta run—almost late!” Riding away on my e-bike, I caught sight of Jack in my mirror, holding the paper with a grin, even giving it a celebratory kiss. At work, I texted him: Jack, the water heater at home seems off. Can you check it? Ten minutes later, he replied: Sure, babe. Got it. His careless response was exactly as expected. He was probably daydreaming about his life after a million-dollar payout with his new woman, far too busy to worry about an eight-year-old water heater. What causes a water heater to explode? I typed into the search bar, read through the results, and then cleared my history.

At 5:30, Julie, the new intern, noticed I hadn’t budged. “Megan, aren’t you in a rush to get home and see Emmy?” “Oh, Jack’s with her,” I replied, showing the baby monitor app on my phone, where Jack was entertaining Emmy. “I figured I’d stay late and finish up my report.” Julie gave me a wistful smile. “Must be nice! One day, I’m finding a guy who’ll pull his weight with the baby, too!” I just smiled back. Starting today, I wanted everyone to know that Jack and I were the picture of domestic bliss. After wrapping up, I was about to leave when Greg Summers from IT walked over. “Hey, just a heads up—don’t use company computers for personal stuff right now.” “What’s going on?” I asked. “With last quarter’s slump, leadership’s monitoring web use more than usual, like to see if people are shopping or browsing news sites…” Greg trailed off, then asked, “By the way, what’s up with your water heater? Saw you searching about it.” My pulse raced, but I kept calm. Why should I be anxious? It was completely reasonable to check out potential safety issues with an old appliance. “Oh, I saw this video about a heater exploding, and it freaked me out a bit,” I replied casually. Greg nodded. “I think they say to replace them every eight years or so.” His phone buzzed, and he walked away. My fingers shook as I gathered my things to leave. By the time I got home, it was almost eight. Jack was taking photos of Emmy on the couch. When he noticed me, he quickly looked away, seeming almost flustered. “Is that new?” I pointed at the outfit Emmy was wearing. “Yeah, it arrived today,” he set the camera down. “Hungry? Let’s go grab some noodles from that place downstairs.” “When’d you get a new camera? You didn’t mention it.” I reached over to pick it up, flipping through the photos. The quality was so professional; Jack had clearly gotten good at composition. Jack hesitated, “Well, I didn’t want you to think I was wasting money… I wanted to capture Emmy’s moments, you know?” “You could’ve asked me instead of hiding it,” I said, continuing to look through the photos. Jack snatched the camera from my hands. “Hon, you’ve been working all day; don’t get worked up over a small thing. Let me make it up to you. Here, strike a pose for me!” Then, Emmy started fussing. I quickly scooped her up. “Could you take out the trash? And grab us two noodle bowls on your way back?” “Sure.” Jack reached for his phone. “Leave it charging,” I said, pulling out some cash. “Here, just use this.” He shrugged, took the money, and grabbed the trash. The moment he was out of sight, I unlocked his phone—password, Emmy’s birth date, worked on the first try. I’d never felt the need to check his phone before, but now, there was no hesitation. He’d been so sure I’d never intrude on his privacy. One contact caught my eye: “AAA Style Master Linda Cross.” Her latest message read: Hiking’s the easiest way to create a happy little ‘accident.’ There’s no… The rest was hidden, and since Jack hadn’t opened it, I couldn’t read further. But I didn’t need to; the picture was clear enough. With the policy signed, they’d locked and loaded. I placed his phone back and resumed scrolling through the camera, finding photos of Emmy bundled in thick baby blankets. The focus wasn’t even on her, but rather the details of the clothing. Given the summer heat, Emmy’s hair was damp with sweat. When Jack returned, I confronted him, “Why wrap her up like this? It’s over 90 degrees out—she’ll overheat!” He froze, trying to recover, “They’re sending us another one for free if I post a picture with this one.” “So you’d risk her comfort for a cheap promo?” Jack’s anger flared, “She’s my daughter! You think I’d hurt her?” “Relax. I didn’t say that.” I pressed, raising my voice. Jack knocked the camera to the ground, slamming the door behind him. When he finally returned around midnight, he hugged me from behind, whispering, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” I said nothing. He softened, adding, “How about a weekend hiking trip, just the two of us? Mom can watch Emmy. It’s been forever since we had time alone.” There it was: that sickening sweetness, like when we first started dating. Even after years of building a life together, you can never fully know the person lying beside you. “Camping? But I thought you hated hiking?” I asked. “That was back then,” he chuckled, “But now we’re our own bosses with flexible schedules. Hiking’s a good way to stay fit.” “Which trail?” I tested. “Stonehill Ridge,” he said. “I read it’s less crowded, got beautiful old scenery, and is far from the city. They say the air there is amazing.” I nodded, “You really did your homework.” “Of course. I have to make it up to you.” He pulled me close. “We could get a tent and camp under the stars, just like college.” I pushed him back, “Fine. But if we go, it’ll be once your mom’s settled with Emmy.” He brightened, “Done!” The stronger he pressed, the firmer my resolve became. Around 2 a.m., I finished feeding Emmy and went to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, the water heater emitted its usual hum, old and worn. If its temperature controls, overheating protection, and pressure release valves were all damaged, well… anything could happen. I placed a hand under the hot stream, deep in thought.

Jack’s mom arrived a few days later, laden with bags and a crate of fresh eggs. “Well, well, standing there like a bump on a log,” she teased me, nudging Jack with a laugh. “For a new mom, you sure don’t know how to keep busy.” I took her bag, smiling. “Thanks for coming, Marge. You must be tired from the trip.” “Oh, don’t you worry about me,” she said, settling onto the couch with a grin that looked friendly enough but masked a pointed edge. She’d never quite approved of me, probably thinking Jack’s previous tech job could’ve won him a wife with “better” credentials. Jack handed her a cup of water, “Mom, Megan and I are planning a hiking trip this weekend. Think you could look after Emmy for a couple of days?” She muttered, “Yeah, sure, sure. Sounds miserable in this heat, but knock yourselves out.” Later that night, Jack insisted on picking up camping gear, practically glowing with excitement. “We’re just three days away!” he beamed. “Since you got pregnant, we haven’t been out together. You as excited as I am?” “Oh, I…” Just yesterday, I’d set the water heater to fifty degrees, only to find the water scalding when I used it. Its temperature controls must’ve completely failed. “Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it,” I replied. When we returned, Marge had already put Emmy to bed. The next morning, Jack left for the shop, and I dressed Emmy for the day before heading out. Marge, holding Emmy, grumbled about the baby monitor. “Staring at us all night, I couldn’t sleep with that thing on.” She set it on the shelf behind the TV. “Waste of money.” “Sure.” I said, as the doorbell rang. The appliance repairman I’d called had arrived. “Mr. Turner, right?” I stepped aside to let him in and led him to the bathroom. “Our water heater’s been making odd noises, and the temperature’s unpredictable. Could you check it?” He inspected it, knocking on the casing, “How long you had it?” “About eight years.” “Thing’s on its last legs. You’d be better off with a new one. That pressure relief valve’s not working either. This old heater could go anytime.” I feigned shock. “It’s worth maybe a hundred bucks,” he added. “If you decide to sell it, call me.” As he left, I suggested to Marge, “Maybe we should just get rid of it.” “He’s scamming you,” she scoffed. “That heater’s working fine; why bother?” “Let’s just unplug it when it’s not in use, then.” I put on my shoes, ready to head out for work. “Fancy-pants, aren’t we? You make three grand a month and act like royalty,” she sneered. I said nothing, pulling on my sun hat as I left. After work, I realized it had started raining, and I’d forgotten my umbrella. Slick pavement made riding my e-bike treacherous, but I gripped the handlebars tightly, squinting through the rain. Then, out of nowhere, a van careened toward me, and I froze. In those seconds, I felt nothing but terror—and a gnawing bitterness. Why did fate seem to favor Jack? The van stopped just in time, but in my panic, I swerved, crashing onto the sidewalk. Pain shot through my hip, and my knee scraped against the rough pavement. My arms were bloodied and caked with dirt. Bystanders helped me up as the van driver apologized profusely. When I finally got home, Marge was shelling beans, while Jack was scrolling through his phone. He sprang up when he saw my disheveled state. “What happened? Are you okay?” I shook my head. Seemingly relieved, Jack asked, “It’s not too bad, right? This won’t stop us from hiking this weekend?” I stared at him. “What do you think? I can barely walk.” My dear husband’s primary concern wasn’t my well-being; it was whether his plan would still work. As Marge cringed at my scraped knee, Jack stared blankly, as though he’d suffered a blow. I stepped into the bathroom, skipping the shower in favor of a basin of cold water. As I washed my knee, I glanced at the water heater. Bathing would be out of the question until I healed. At dinner, Jack was oddly quiet, lost in thought. Marge handed him a slice of omelet. “What’s on your mind?” “Babe, maybe I should take you to the hospital tomorrow, make sure you didn’t break anything,” Jack said, glancing at me. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on the weekend.” “Yes, that would be good,” I replied. The next day, Jack took me to get my wounds dressed. The doctor warned against letting the injuries get wet. Once back at work, I opened the baby monitor app, expecting to check on Emmy, only to find the screen filled with Jack and that woman, sprawled on my living room couch. They were all over each other, like animals incapable of self-control. Watching Jack with another woman, I felt nothing. But my gaze drifted to Emmy in her stroller nearby, tiny legs kicking in the air, oblivious to the scene around her. The sight made me feel sick. “Oh, there’s something about your place that really gets me going,” the woman purred. Jack, cigarette in hand, replied, “You’re the only one who makes me feel alive. Megan’s a mess now; her body’s wrecked. One look, and I’m done.” “Your daughter’s crying.” “Let her cry. Girls are a hassle, anyway. Just raising her for someone else. So, when are you giving me a son?” “When you get rid of her. Simple as that.” “Last night, I almost smothered her with a pillow,” Jack hissed through gritted teeth. “Can’t believe she didn’t die in that accident.” The screen cut to three loud knocks on the door.

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Because I challenged my wife’s untouchable “white knight,” she sent me to the Crawford Research Institute as an experimental subject. She said I was too consumed by jealousy and needed a small punishment. I was injected with unknown substances, force-fed drugs, given spoiled food, and beaten. After a year of inhuman torment, as she wished, I became obedient. She came as scheduled to pick me up, standing high above, staring at me coldly: “Have you learned your lesson?” A shudder rippled through me as I hastily dropped to my knees, admitting fault: “Master, I’ll be an obedient dog.” But she broke down. ###The harsh sting of slaps yanked me out of unconsciousness, the beeping of monitors a constant background noise. I curled up, my body pulling at the festering wounds, stinking of infection, each movement igniting a pain so intense that even a moan refused to escape my lips. I knew it was time for another injection. Needle marks covered my arms so densely that I couldn’t feel them anymore. I was too weakened by the pain to resist. “Not dead yet? If not, wake up—it’s time for your shot.” The man withdrew his hand, a mocking grin stretching across his face. A pair of sharp pincers dug into one of my open wounds, twisting mercilessly. I screamed, raw and primal. Another set of pincers stabbed into a different gash, silencing me instantly. I choked back the scream that had barely left my mouth. These monsters once told me that the louder I yelled, the more eager they’d be to torment me, pushing until I nearly died. Once, after being injected with an unknown serum, the pain felt like my insides were being torn apart. I screamed uncontrollably. Seeing my frenzied reaction, they grew more excited, injecting me with multiple substances until I passed out from the agony. They’d throw water on me to wake me up and then douse my back repeatedly with boiling water, calling it “artistic expression.” My back would blister, seeping thick, yellow pus. My teeth were knocked out long ago during slaps, and my hearing had been nearly destroyed. After that, I never dared scream again. No matter how excruciating, I swallowed my cries, praying silently, “Pass out soon. If I pass out, I won’t feel the pain.” “Look at you, clinging to life like a pathetic rat!” The man scoffed and kicked me hard in the wound, causing my breath to hitch and my face to go pale. Laughter erupted around me. “Still not dead? Just as we thought—worthless!” “Yes, yes, I’m nothing, just a lowly creature at your mercy,” I knelt and pleaded, echoing their words. Only when I played along did their mood improve, sparing me worse torment. After a year in this place, I’d grown used to such humiliation. When I first arrived, I was proud, defiant. I fought back, clashing with them. But a few enforcers pinned me down, tying me to the experimental table, injecting me with all manner of concoctions. I was force-fed drugs and even live insects. My stomach wrenched with pain every day. Over time, the relentless torture broke my spirit, turning me into an obedient tool. I knew these men were sent by Vanessa Hale, who watched over me through them. It was all her doing. She called me unruly and said I needed to be taught a lesson for challenging Marcus Sterling. So, she sent me here for “discipline.” And so, I endured inhuman abuse. ###

But this time was different. One of the guards pulled out a phone—I recognized it as mine, confiscated when I first arrived. “Your time’s almost up. You finally turned into the obedient dog Vanessa wanted. She said you could talk to her. She’ll be here soon.” The call connected quickly, her voice coming through, cold and void of emotion. “Zachary Monroe, after all this time, do you look forward to coming home?” Tears of relief ran down my face as I dropped to my knees. “Yes, yes, I can’t wait! If you tell me to go east, I won’t go west…” “I’m finally going to escape this place!” Vanessa seemed satisfied with my response and ended the call. The guards, knowing I was about to leave, seemed disappointed that their entertainment was over. They cracked their knuckles and spoke of a send-off. I was stripped and hung upside down at the entrance of the Crawford Research Institute. Every employee who passed by marked their arrival by lashing me with a whip laced with salt and chili powder. The deeper the welt, the bigger the bonus they received. They etched designs into my skin with surgical blades, calling it borderless art. When I passed out from the pain, they revived me with electric shocks, starting the torture all over again. I became nothing more than their toy. The day Vanessa Hale came to get me, they dressed me in the same clothes I wore when I arrived, wrapping my wounds in thick bandages to prevent blood from soaking through. After a year, I finally saw daylight again. I stumbled out of the building. Vanessa stood by her car, dressed impeccably, smoking a cigarette. When she saw me, her expression turned cold. “It’s been a year, Zachary. Have you learned your lesson?” The moment I heard her, I fell to my knees instinctively, knocking my forehead on the ground. “I was wrong, I’ll never go against you again, or Marcus. I’ll do anything you say.” I was terrified she’d send me back here. A fleeting look of surprise crossed her face before a smile appeared. She nodded approvingly. “Not bad. It seems this year wasn’t wasted. You’re obedient now.” “Keep it that way, or back here you go.” At those words, I hit my head on the ground harder, the impact splitting the skin, blood trickling down my face. Vanessa’s eyes showed a hint of disgust. “Get up. Don’t you care that the ground is filthy?” I didn’t. In this place, they’d force me to drink vile black serum, swallow live rats, and choke down concoctions teeming with bacteria and viruses. The mere memory made me retch. Unable to help it, I vomited in front of Vanessa, yellow-green bile mixed with blood spilling onto the ground. Eating those things had left my stomach writhing with pain daily. My body was now just a vessel of poison, ready to burst beyond repair. I sat by the car window, ashamed and distancing myself from her, afraid that my stench would offend her. Her expression softened. “What’s wrong? Stomach bothering you?” ###

Stomach pain was an understatement; my stomach had been corroded and ruined by what they had fed me. I knew all too well the number of times I had vomited blood. “You’ve changed a lot. Looks like sending you there was worth it,” Vanessa Hale remarked as she sat nearby, observing my compliant behavior. My body trembled instinctively. At the Crawford Research Institute, daily beatings were routine. They locked me in with pythons, just to see how much a human could endure before being devoured. If my reactions weren’t up to their expectations, they would escalate to electric shocks, rinse my eyes with pepper spray, burn my chest with searing irons, or let flesh-eating bees sting me until I passed out and needed resuscitation. The mere thought made me shudder, leaving me too scared to even consider disobedience. Perhaps noticing my fearful demeanor and the blood still clinging to my lips, Vanessa’s gaze softened. Her voice lost its harsh edge, turning into a gentle reprimand. “I sent you there to learn discipline, not to destroy yourself. Look at you now, your stomach is in shambles.” She reached out to cradle my face. To me, the gesture was as terrifying as a death sentence. I flinched, nearly losing control, and dropped to the floor, pleading. “Please, don’t hit me! I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll do whatever you say—just don’t hurt me again.” I was like a pitiful dog, desperately begging for her mercy. I wouldn’t dare desire my master anymore. When I was first sent to the institute, they warned me: never look at Vanessa Hale that way again—she belonged to Marcus Sterling. Back then, I was defiant, taking pride in the bond we shared, refusing to bow to anyone. The first round of beatings didn’t break me, nor did the second. But when Robert Lang, her trusted bodyguard, injected me with that vile black serum, my spirit shattered. Under their creative and unending torture, I became an object—a thing to be used and discarded. What right did someone like me have to get close to Vanessa Hale? Her outstretched hand froze midair, her eyes glimmering with anger and confusion. She stared at me, searching for answers in my face. I could only lower my head, unable to meet her eyes. A dog has no right to make eye contact with its master. I understood that well. Yet, Vanessa seemed even more infuriated. Why? Isn’t this what she wanted? To my surprise, instead of taking me back to Hale Estate, she drove me to Sterling Enterprises. Throughout the five years we had been together, she had never allowed me to set foot in that place. Even when I offered to visit, wanting to show support and deliver lunch to assert my position over Marcus, she had shut me down with cold finality. But now, she was taking me there willingly. The company was hosting a product launch, and the employees lined the halls, clapping as we arrived. Marcus Sterling stood front and center. He handed me a bouquet, his smile warm and welcoming. “Welcome back, brother.” That smile sent an icy wave down my spine, my legs trembling uncontrollably. I had seen that face too many times at Crawford Research Institute. Each time, he brought new, creative ways to torment me. The staff at the institute replicated his ideas, filming my screams and delirium as entertainment. “Hmm, not brutal enough.” “What about roasting his back until it oozes, then sprinkling chili powder on it?” “Dead rats are good, too. Should taste interesting.” They’d openly discuss the next method of torture, with no hint of remorse. ###

Vanessa Hale sending me to the Crawford Research Institute as an experimental subject was all because of him. I was her latest fascination, but Marcus Sterling was her “white knight,” holding a permanent place in her heart. So, she believed every word he said. Marcus narrowly escaped a car accident that almost disfigured him. He accused me, claiming I had cut his brake lines simply because his car was parked at the Hale Estate for a couple of days. Important documents went missing from his office, derailing a crucial business deal. The next day, those same documents mysteriously appeared in my room. A few days later, Marcus, with a noticeable limp, approached Vanessa and claimed it was all my doing. He said I had even hired people to beat him up, leaving him near death, almost taking him away from her forever. Vanessa didn’t hesitate; she believed him without question. She froze all my bank accounts and confined me to a room under round-the-clock surveillance. I couldn’t step outside, not even for the bathroom, without being watched. I was furious. It felt like a violation of my basic dignity. When Marcus showed up, gloating and smug, I grabbed a vase and threw it at him without thinking. I never expected him to stay rooted, making no move to dodge. The vase hit him squarely on the forehead. Blood trickled down slowly. The surveillance cameras captured everything in perfect clarity. For the first time, Vanessa Hale lost her composure. Her face was a storm of rage, but her hands were gentle as she touched Marcus’ bleeding head, before rushing him to Mercy Hill Medical Center. This time, there was no defense I could make. Vanessa listened to Marcus’ suggestion and sent me to Crawford for “training.” “You’ve really let me down this time, Zachary. I hope that when you come back, you’ll understand your mistakes,” she said, disappointment written all over her face. In the lab, I endured two brutal beatings before Marcus himself showed up. He ordered the guards to inject me with that black serum and forced a three-day-old dead rat into my mouth, making me swallow it. Then he lifted the mask off one of the guards. I knew that face well. It was Robert Lang, Vanessa’s personal bodyguard—and once mine. So, Vanessa had known all along. I felt my resolve disintegrate, my spirit crushed, leaving me an empty shell. My brokenness drew stares, and Vanessa’s expression grew displeased. She leaned in, whispering in my ear, “Zachary Monroe, I thought you’d changed, but you’re still the same. Do you want to go back to ‘training’?” Fear gripped me, and I almost dropped to my knees. But I realized we were standing at the entrance of Sterling Enterprises—I couldn’t embarrass her here. I swallowed my instinct and stayed upright. To Marcus, the whisper appeared intimate, and a shadow of jealousy darkened his face. He walked up quickly, pulling me into a strong embrace. But it wasn’t just an embrace. He squeezed my wounds with enough pressure to make my teeth clench, cold sweat trickling down my back. I didn’t dare react. Screaming meant punishment—it was instinctual now. Years of torment had hardwired that into me. “It’s all in the past now. Let’s make amends,” Marcus said, extending his hand. I hesitated, and Vanessa slapped my shoulder hard. “What’s wrong with you? He’s offering peace, and you’re standing there like a fool?” Her slap landed right on a painful spot. I felt the blood seeping slowly under my shirt, concealed only by the black fabric. The stumble didn’t go unnoticed by Marcus. He stepped closer, a sly smirk on his face, and punched me in the chest. “Looks like your training paid off, brother. Your chest is as solid as steel—it even hurt my hand,” he said, pretending to massage his knuckles. A muffled groan escaped my lips as I suppressed the pain. My chest, wrapped tightly in bandages, still bore the remnants of four broken ribs from the institute. Vanessa noticed my slight reaction and shot me a sharp glance. “Enough with the act. Get in, now,” she commanded. I followed her unsteadily. This was Sterling Enterprises’ luxury swimwear launch. Models in swimsuits strutted down the runway, showcasing the latest designs. A mischievous coworker called out, “Hey, I heard Mr. Monroe’s been training for a year. I bet he’d look better in a swimsuit than those models! Why not have him show off?” The crowd erupted with cheers. The playful culture of the company often saw employees and even executives participating in shows like this. Panic surged through me. Taking off my shirt meant exposing the network of scars covering my body. Would Vanessa really go that far? To my horror, after a moment’s contemplation, Vanessa agreed. Seeing my reluctance, she cast me a look of disdain before leading me backstage. Marcus, now visibly rattled, stepped in to intervene. “Vanessa, he doesn’t seem too eager. Why not let it go? You know my physique isn’t bad either!” he added, throwing in a wink. But Vanessa wasn’t swayed this time. “Marcus, stay out of this. He trained for a year; I need to see if it made a difference. He’ll be taking over eventually.” With that, she led me back toward the stage. No one saw the fleeting look of jealousy and worry that crossed Marcus’ face. Vanessa’s hand was as soft as I remembered from our early days, back when she confessed her feelings and gave me the hope I had clung to. But now, the warmth only felt suffocating. The memories of a year of torment stripped any comfort they once held. I clenched my fists, yanking my hand from hers. Her expression darkened with irritation. “Zachary, what’s your problem?” “This isn’t for you; it’s to pave the way for the future. Didn’t you once say we should face everything together?” For a moment, a touch of tenderness returned to her eyes. But I was trapped, whispering, “Shouldn’t it be Marcus standing with you for that?” Vanessa’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? I would never—” Before she could finish, I dropped to my knees, bowing my head. “Please, Ms. Hale, I’m just a lowly dog. I’m not worthy of you. Let me go.” “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have crossed Marcus. My jealousy was my downfall. I’ve paid for it. Treat me like the garbage I am and throw me away!” Vanessa’s eyes flared with anger. “Zachary Monroe, I didn’t send you to that place to come back as a broken man. Looks like you’re hopeless.” Her words struck a strange note. Was she saying that sending me there was supposed to be for my good? How absurd. Suppressing the bitter taste rising in my throat, I continued my act. “Yes, yes, I’m worthless. Marcus Sterling is the one worthy of you.” Before I could finish— “Enough, Zachary! You’re insufferable!” I staggered behind them, trying to keep up. This was Sterling Enterprises’ launch event for their new luxury swimwear line. The runway was full of models clad in sleek, high-end swimwear, showcasing the latest collection. Suddenly, one of the more mischievous colleagues shouted, “I heard Mr. Monroe’s been through a year of intense training. From the looks of it, his chest muscles put the models’ to shame. How about Mr. Monroe tries on a swimsuit and gives us a show?” The room erupted in laughter and chatter. Marcus Sterling’s confident expression faltered for the first time, his smile fading. Terror gripped me. Stripping down would mean exposing the web of scars that crisscrossed my body. Would Vanessa Hale really push me to that point, tearing away even this final shroud of dignity?

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Have You Ever Sold Anything on a Secondhand Platform? I’m a dedicated Lolita fashion enthusiast with a closet full of beautiful dresses. Due to the sheer number of styles and new pre-orders coming in, I often sell my older Lolita dresses online. One day while I was at work, my phone buzzed with a message. A user with a blank profile picture commented under one of my listings: “What kind of dress do you want? As long as you satisfy me, I can give you anything.” I immediately blocked him. What a creep. That evening, when I returned to my apartment, I found an opened package at my doorstep. Inside was a brand new “Heavenly Maiden” dress – the exact dress I had been eyeing but couldn’t afford… Looking at the exquisite dress on the floor, I immediately thought of that blank profile from earlier. There have been many such cases in the Lolita fashion community. Girls who love beautiful clothes but can’t afford them sometimes resort to selling their bodies in exchange for coveted collector’s items. This has created opportunities for ill-intentioned people who disguise themselves as wealthy benefactors on various secondhand platforms to prey on vulnerable girls. Why choose secondhand platforms? Simple. Brand new authentic pieces are too expensive for most to afford. But the “Heavenly Maiden” dress before me still had its tags attached, showing no signs of wear! Just then, my phone buzzed with a new friend request on SnapChat. The message attached made my blood run cold: “Did you receive the dress you like? I’m coming to collect my payment tomorrow. Make sure to wear it – I love seeing you in dresses.” The same blank profile picture, the same tone. How did he know I wanted the “Heavenly Maiden” dress? This Japanese version costs over $1000 on the market, considered the holy grail of Lolita fashion. I had never told anyone I wanted it, yet this mysterious person with the blank profile knew! Even more terrifying was the second half of his message. He’s coming tomorrow to collect payment! What kind of “payment” does he have in mind? Is it… me? Just then, I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairwell. The footsteps grew louder. Terrified, I quickly opened my door and secured the deadbolt. Before I could fully lock the door, the footsteps suddenly accelerated towards my apartment. A powerful force pushed against the door, straining the deadbolt. Through the narrow gap, I saw a pair of bloodshot eyes in a twisted face. “Ahh!” I couldn’t help but scream. Pushing back against his brute force, I used my last ounce of strength to turn the key and lock the door. After securing the lock, I collapsed to the floor. The violent pounding on the door continued, each thud hammering my frayed nerves. There’s a security camera in the hallway. With trembling hands, I took out my phone to check the feed. I saw a man nearly 6 feet tall wearing a hoodie and mask looking straight at the camera. He pulled down his mask, flashing an evil smile at the lens. There was a deep scar on his jaw, like an ugly centipede clinging to his neck, making him look sinister and terrifying. Then, he began mouthing words slowly, as if deliberately letting me read his lips. He said: “I want to fuck you.” I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I called my friend Kelly from the Lolita community. When she heard what happened, she immediately offered to come over. “No, I don’t know if he’s left yet. It’s too dangerous for you to come alone,” I said quietly, eyes still glued to the security feed. Kelly on the other end sounded angry but didn’t insist after hearing my strong objection. “Then keep in constant contact with me. Don’t hang up. I’ll bring people to check on you first thing in the morning.” It was already past midnight. Most of my friends were asleep except for night owl Kelly. All I could do was wait for dawn. Suddenly, I noticed some disturbed dust on the table in front of me, along with two cigarette butts smoked down to the filter. I don’t smoke, and I’ve been single for all 24 years of my life. So who do these belong to? My nerves instantly went on high alert. Kelly, sensing my silence, anxiously asked: “What’s wrong? Did something happen, Tina?” My voice trembled as I replied: “A man was in my apartment. There’s cigarette ash on the table…” Just as I finished speaking, the security feed flickered. A marble smashed into the camera, turning the screen to static. The sudden change startled me. My whole body shook uncontrollably. “I’m calling the police!” Kelly said before hanging up. The police arrived quickly. I showed them the security footage I had recorded. Though it was dark and unclear, the prominent scar on the man’s neck was unmistakable. “We’ll investigate and locate this person as soon as possible. We’ll also increase patrols in your area,” the young officer said. I nodded numbly. “Is anyone still outside?” “No.” I followed the officers out of my apartment. The sky was just starting to lighten. Apart from the diligent street cleaners, there wasn’t a soul in sight. “I’m sorry for troubling you,” I said, forcing a smile. The young officer waved it off. “No trouble at all. Call us anytime if anything happens.” I didn’t dare stay in my apartment any longer. Kelly offered to let me stay with her. So, with the officers’ escort, I quickly packed some essentials and moved in with Kelly. The next day passed uneventfully. Just as I was starting to relax, my landlord called, immediately launching into an angry tirade. “Tina! Is this how you treat the apartment I rented to you?” I was confused. “I’ve been staying at a friend’s place. I haven’t even been back…” The landlord hung up and quickly sent some photos on SnapChat. They showed my living room in complete disarray, and even the bedding was torn to shreds. I broke out in a cold sweat. If I had been home last night, would I now be a cold corpse? Kelly saw the horrifying images too and kept trying to comfort me. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re safe here.” Hearing her gentle reassurances, I gradually calmed down, leaning on her shoulder. The police were working quickly to find the suspect, but unfortunately hadn’t made any progress yet. I hadn’t dared go to work for two days, afraid the psycho might follow me and cause trouble for Kelly. But my worst fear came true anyway. That night, Kelly and I had changed into pajamas and were about to go to sleep after finishing a TV show. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. All traces of sleepiness vanished instantly. I instinctively moved closer to Kelly. “Don’t be scared. I installed a deadbolt. He can’t get in,” Kelly said, stroking my hair reassuringly. The knocking didn’t stop. Instead, it grew more forceful. Bang! Bang! Bang! Fists pounded against the security door, the sound like the footsteps of the Grim Reaper closing in through the night. Kelly pulled up the security camera feed on her phone. It was the same man with the ugly scar on his neck. He grinned at the camera, baring his teeth. Then he took out a can of spray paint and scrawled a crude message on the wall: “Don’t hide from me. I love you.” He placed a package at the door, then put on a hat and mask, repeatedly looking up at the camera. Then the phone screen suddenly turned to static as the hallway camera crackled with electricity. Same person, same Lolita dress, same destroyed camera. As the electric crackling faded, my body began to shake uncontrollably. Kelly gripped my hand and placed a taser in my palm. She whispered soothingly: “It’s okay. He can’t get in.” Once again, I didn’t sleep a wink that night. Kelly called the police, but the culprit was highly vigilant and disappeared into the night after destroying the camera. The same young officer came. He looked gravely at the spray-painted message on the wall, then turned to me with a serious expression. “Miss Tina, please come to the station to give a statement. I’ll request additional police protection from my superiors.” I nodded. Kelly stayed by my side the whole time, constantly trying to calm my frayed nerves. At the police station, I slowly regained my composure. The young officer asked a few questions. When he learned that I didn’t know the stalker, he frowned slightly. “If you don’t know him, Miss Tina, how did he get your address?” Hearing the officer’s question, I thought carefully before shaking my head firmly. “I would never give out my address.” Then I suddenly remembered my account on the secondhand sales platform. The blank profile appeared and completely disrupted my peaceful life. I took out my phone, found my account on the platform, and handed it to the officer. “Could it be related to my package deliveries? I have a lot of Lolita dresses at home, so I often sell them here.” The young officer’s eyes lit up when he heard this. He carefully examined my account. With my permission, he transferred the account to the police department’s phone before arranging for someone to take Kelly and me back to her place. That night, neither Kelly nor I could sleep. So she took some beer from the fridge, turned on a comedy on the projector, and snapped a photo to post on her social media. Kelly is a minor internet celebrity who often shares daily life and Lolita fashion photos on platforms like Instagram and TikTok. I grabbed a bottle and slowly sipped it while watching the comedy. Kelly was replying to followers’ comments on her apps. The comedy failed to hold my interest. Feeling bored, I also opened Kelly’s social media to look at the comments and reposts. Suddenly, my finger froze. Among the viewers, I saw an all too familiar blank profile picture. With trembling fingers, I tapped on it. When I saw the bio, a cold sweat instantly broke out on my back. The phone slipped from my hand. Before the screen went dark, Kelly saw the message: “Stop looking. Let me love you properly!” The profile picture was a selfie of me! Kelly’s face went pale when she saw the message. We’re close friends who love taking selfies together when we hang out. So at least a third of the content on her Instagram features me. But this innocent habit between girlfriends had now landed us in such a predicament. I didn’t dare think about it anymore. After sending this account to the young officer, I tried to calm myself down. Kelly quickly deactivated her account without even posting an explanation. An indescribable chill seeped into my bones. I felt like I was going crazy. Every time I closed my eyes, I couldn’t help but picture that terrifying man with the centipede-like scar on his neck. He was advancing towards me step by step. His bloodshot eyes stared at me intently, like a predator eyeing its prey. Lunging at me frantically! When I opened my eyes, I was drenched in cold sweat. Kelly was sitting by the bed, looking at me with concern. “We’re not going anywhere for a while. We’ll stay here until that psycho is caught,” she said. She’s always been gentle and understanding. I managed a weak smile and agreed. I didn’t give much explanation to my company, just using feeling unwell as an excuse to take an extended leave. Kelly is a freelancer who can work from home. To avoid any incidents, we minimized going out. After buying nearly two weeks’ worth of groceries, we locked ourselves in. Nothing unusual happened for the next few days. The young officer also messaged me, saying they had tracked the IP address and would catch the culprit in a few days. A week passed like this. Just when I thought we were finally safe… Early that morning, a coworker I rarely talk to outside of work suddenly sent me a photo. The woman in the picture was seductive and alluring, with a curvaceous figure and fair thighs spread wide open as if inviting sin. Then, like a floodgate opening, more and more explicit photos came pouring in. Various poses, all designed to inflame desire. Most importantly, the face in the photos… Was mine. Seeing the photos, I felt like I had been doused with a bucket of ice water. My coworker’s messages kept coming: “Is this really you in the photos?” “I never knew you were so wild.” “How much for one night? 200 bucks for the whole night, what do you say?” Fighting back nausea, I blocked him and broke down crying. As a Lolita fashion enthusiast, I’m quite the selfie expert. But I would never take photos like these. Someone clearly used my photos for malicious photoshopping! There had been no trace of that man for a week. But I was certain – it must be him! Messages on my phone kept pouring in. I steeled myself to look at the screen. It was from my manager. “Tina! I didn’t say anything about your extended leave, but now you’re bringing your private affairs to tarnish the company’s reputation? What are you trying to do?” “Don’t bother coming back. Go to HR to collect your final paycheck and get out!” Each message felt like a tidal wave, shattering my already broken heart into even smaller pieces. It was as if the last shred of dignity covering me had been ripped away, exposing my raw wounds to the air, making my whole body ache and tremble with pain. Kelly heard the commotion and rushed over. When she saw those photos, her face grew very serious. As my best friend for three years, she of course knew I had never taken such photos. But it didn’t matter. The rumor mill is unstoppable. When she accompanied me back to the company to collect my things, All my coworkers kept stealing glances at me. Those looks… Contempt, boldness, disgust. Even some usually quiet male colleagues came up and lewdly asked if I was available. Kelly kicked that guy away and escorted me out of the company. After going through so much, my nerves were completely shot. I became afraid of sunlight and didn’t dare go out. I stayed home all day, staring blankly at the walls. Kelly understood my changes and patiently kept me company. My sleep quality plummeted. I couldn’t sleep for nights on end. Another sleepless night. I walked out of the bedroom to get some water from the living room. The pale moonlight shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows cast an eerie glow on the living room. I didn’t turn on the lights, following the moonlight to find the water dispenser. Suddenly, a clothes hanger fell from the balcony. Ding. At that moment, a dark shadow blocked the moonlight in front of me. That shadow… was a person! My heart started racing uncontrollably. My hand holding the glass began to shake. Accompanied by the crisp sound of glass shattering on the floor, I slowly raised my head. The shadow instantly blocked all the moonlight. In the darkness, our eyes met. His eyes glinted with a predatory light. In the faint moonlight, I vaguely saw his face. One glance was enough to make me scream at the top of my lungs! The man was clearly startled by my scream. Then, he dove off the balcony! My terror froze in an instant. Kelly heard my scream and rushed out of the bedroom in a panic. Still in shock, I recounted what had just happened. She turned on the lights and grimly led me to the balcony, where we saw dirty footprints. Kelly sucked in a sharp breath. “I live on the 12th floor.” To preserve evidence, we didn’t clean up the footprints. Instead, we called the police to handle it. Normally, jumping from the 12th floor would result in hitting the ground within five seconds. The impact of a body hitting the ground would make a dull thud, but I hadn’t heard any sound. Could someone actually fly? Learning from the two previous incidents, the police responded very quickly. They also brought good news. “We’ve identified the person who’s been stalking Miss Tina,” said Officer James, spreading out the collected information in front of me. His face showed visible fatigue, but couldn’t hide his joy. “His name is Eric Lee. He was imprisoned three years ago for attempted assault and released last year. He has a criminal record.” “He’s an orphan who usually makes a living through robbery and scams. I tracked the account you gave us and found that you always ship packages from near your home.” “Coincidentally, Eric lives in the same city as Miss Tina, so he staked out the shipping locations, disguised himself as a delivery man to enter your complex and scout it out, and finally determined your home and work addresses.”

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I got up in the middle of the night to feed the twins and noticed that Ryan was in the bathroom handling… certain needs. Given that I’m still breastfeeding and my stretch marks haven’t faded since the pregnancy, I wasn’t surprised by his lack of interest. But when I caught a glimpse of the photo on his phone, I completely lost it. He was looking at Vanessa Blackwood—a woman he briefly dated when we split up. I slapped him and asked, “Is this what you’ve been doing instead of touching me for over a year now?” Unfazed, he straightened his clothes, grinning as he replied, “Not just this year. Even when I had to provide a sample for the IVF treatment, I used her picture.” 1、Amanda Quinn My name is Amanda Quinn. Ryan and I have been married for five years, three of which we spent trying for children through IVF. After thousands of hormone injections and four rounds of IVF, we finally had our twins—a boy and a girl. Even though my body’s changed, and my stomach is covered in stretch marks, I still feel hopeful every time I look at our two precious babies. Life was supposed to only get better from here. One night, I got up to feed the twins and noticed Ryan wasn’t in bed. The bathroom light was off, but I could hear water running faintly inside. I had an idea of what might be going on. Since we found out I was pregnant, we’d stopped sleeping together as a precaution. Now, six months after the twins were born, he still hadn’t touched me. I could understand; breastfeeding and the stubborn stretch marks weren’t exactly appealing. But I had a hunch it was time to try and reconnect. I quietly opened the bathroom door and saw the faint glow of his phone screen. There was Ryan, back turned, one hand against the wall, the other moving… And suddenly, I felt a pang of sadness. Gently, I called his name and reached out to embrace him. I was ready to bring intimacy back to our marriage. But when Ryan turned, the lust in his eyes vanished the instant he saw me. And as he turned, I got a clear view of his phone screen. Vanessa Blackwood’s face stared back at me—his ex-girlfriend from the three months we’d been apart. Rage boiled over, and instead of reaching for him, I slapped him, hard. “Is this why you haven’t touched me for over a year? Just to keep looking at her picture?” He locked his phone, his excitement gone, and began calmly fixing his clothes as though nothing happened. But I wasn’t about to drop it. I grabbed his collar, demanding an explanation. Instead of remorse, he just looked me up and down with a smirk. What he said next broke me completely. He said, “It’s not just this past year. Even when I had to provide a sample for the IVF, I used her photo for that too.” 2、Amanda Quinn His words struck me like a lightning bolt. By the time he walked out of the bathroom, I was still standing there in shock. In the mirror, I caught sight of my reflection—disheveled and worn. No wonder he wasn’t interested. I remembered the first time he had to provide a sample at Northfield Fertility Clinic. The nurse had shown him to a private room, and he’d been in there for an unusually long time. Another woman there for IVF mentioned that sometimes, wives are allowed to assist. So, I knocked and asked if he needed me to help. Without even looking at me, he shut the door, locking it with a loud click. I’d assumed he was just shy. Little did I know he was in there using Vanessa’s photo instead. Now the thought that our children—our own flesh and blood—came from something so tainted was unbearable. But, maybe I’d brought this on myself. After all, we did break up before marriage, and it was me who had walked away. Ryan was two years younger, fresh out of school, with a shaky job and little ambition. He’d come home from work every night and just played video games, while the men around me were moving up the ladder, some even making six figures. My family kept pushing me to settle down, buy a home, get married. So, I talked to him about buying a place. His parents, working-class folks, offered to help with the down payment, leaving us to cover the mortgage. I didn’t mind, but my mom did. She pointed out how my cousins’ husbands had paid for their homes in full and even bought cars. If they could, why couldn’t Ryan? I understood my mom’s concerns and sympathized with his family’s situation, trying to balance both sides until I was exhausted. But Ryan didn’t seem to get it. I’d be working late, and he’d be gaming. I’d try to reassure my mom, and he’d be gaming. The final straw came when I asked him to view a house with me, and he made an excuse, only for me to come home and find him, controller in hand. Heartbroken, I ended it and packed his things into a single suitcase. When he left, he went to stay with a friend, and I threw myself into work, barely noticing as half a year slipped by. Meanwhile, he worked through the pain, and to my surprise, I felt lighter without the relationship. Suitors started appearing, many with excellent prospects. Then, out of nowhere, my best friend Stephanie called, telling me Ryan had a new girlfriend named Vanessa Blackwood—a girl who looked eerily like me. At first, I just felt sorry for him. He was clearly still hung up on me if he’d found himself a lookalike. But then, Stephanie said something that gave me pause. Apparently, Ryan had reflected deeply on himself after our breakup. He’d poured himself into work, even getting promoted and landing shares in a game his company had developed. He was a new man, and yet Vanessa was reaping the rewards of all my effort to shape him. Fueled by a mix of jealousy and regret, I realized I wanted him back. I returned to Bridgeport, just as he was dropping Vanessa off at Grand Central Station. I stood in the taxi line, watching him embrace her by his new car, and a wave of bitterness flooded my chest. For the first time since we split, I realized I still loved him. I waited by his car, and when he returned, I spoke up. “Ryan, I’m back.” He looked at me, eyes rimmed red, but didn’t move. I stepped forward and hugged him. “You finally grew up. All my hard work wasn’t for nothing.” He pushed me away, but then reached out to wipe my tears. I clung to him, and though he resisted, he hesitated just enough. “Why now?” he asked. “I have a girlfriend.” But a three-month relationship can’t compare to years, and I knew that. I pleaded with him for days, even bringing my mom into it. She hated Ryan, yet whatever she said to him changed his mind. He agreed to get back together, though he looked miserable about it. After those eight long months apart, our reunion felt like a new beginning. Ryan was now able to buy a house, even a car, and my mom’s opinion of him finally softened. We got married, and I assumed Vanessa was firmly in the past. But now, hearing him admit he still thought of her during IVF was a punch to the gut. 3、 I stormed out of the bathroom, hurling accusations until the twins woke up crying, and my mom, Diane, rushed into the room, alarmed by the commotion. By the time I explained what happened, she sank onto the couch, dazed. I checked her blood pressure—190. She’d been struggling to help me with the twins, and now this outburst had triggered her health issues. Ryan, to his credit, kept quiet and fetched her medication. As she rested, she began a tearful lecture. “Ryan, Amanda has sacrificed so much for you. Do you remember how she was there when you had nothing? We almost lost her back then when I pushed her to leave you. Without her, you wouldn’t be where you are today. Don’t think for a second that she came back just because you’re successful now. You owe her more than just your loyalty. And don’t think that other woman wants you for anything besides money. You should be grateful Amanda bore you those twins after all she went through.” Ryan stayed silent, but I could see his pride deflate. Early the next morning, he made a full breakfast spread—my mom’s favorite foods—showing his willingness to make amends. As days went by, he kept it up, taking care of the house, cooking, and watching over the twins so my mom could rest. He would work late only after the babies were asleep. I thought, maybe it was just a slip of the tongue in the heat of the moment, and I could forgive him. Then, tragedy struck. One night, my mom had a sudden stroke. She died before my father even had a chance to say goodbye. Grief and guilt consumed me. I was sure she’d overexerted herself helping me with the twins. During the funeral, I couldn’t stop crying. Ryan took charge, arranging everything as though he were her own son. He shouldered all the responsibilities I couldn’t, carrying the casket, greeting guests, and comforting my father. Neighbors murmured that my mom had chosen well; I had a dependable husband. After laying her to rest, the heaviness in my heart began to ease. I could finally feel a sense of peace, believing that Ryan’s commitment was deeper than any fleeting attraction to Vanessa Blackwood. 4、Ryan Mercer I’m Ryan Mercer—the “useless Ryan.” That’s what Amanda’s mother, Diane, called me the day Amanda kicked me out. Five years of love packed into a single suitcase, and there I was, a pathetic mess, clutching it while I wandered onto the city bus, completely lost. I didn’t know where to go, so I just rode the 25 route to the end of the line and back. Over and over, from afternoon until the buses stopped running. I sat at the terminal, crying like a dog. I knew I wasn’t good enough for her. I knew her mom was pressuring her, so I’d even gone to Diane myself to reassure her. But she didn’t hold back. “Loser,” “pathetic”… she called me every name in the book. I understood she just wanted the best for her daughter, but they never gave me a chance to prove myself. I told them I was developing a new game, but they thought it was just an excuse to slack off. Even then, I couldn’t stand the thought of her leaving. I couldn’t believe she’d just cut me loose and abandon everything we’d planned for the future. So, I stayed with a friend and tried to reach out to her, but she was always too busy to even remember we’d broken up. Meanwhile, I was wasting away, shedding over twenty pounds in the process. My mom was the only one who cared. She picked up an extra job after hours to save money and help me buy a house. She even went behind my back and approached Diane to tell her they could help us with the mortgage. But Diane shot that down in a heartbeat. “And what about a car?” she sneered. My mom suggested they could sell their own home to help us, but Diane laughed, saying, “What, after you die? I’m sure my daughter will wait that long for a car!” Then she delivered the final blow, telling my mom to tell me not to embarrass her daughter by hanging on. My mom came back and collapsed from the stress. That illness was the end of her—two months later, she died from complications. And I couldn’t blame anyone but myself; my weakness had killed her. Her death finally snapped my attachment to Amanda. At the funeral, I met Vanessa Blackwood. She worked at Green Hills Crematorium, and even in that grim setting, she was warm and optimistic. Initially, it was her appearance that caught my eye, but her character was what drew me in. She was unapologetically single by choice, detached from all the societal trappings that came with relationships. Her nonchalance toward life and death was a breath of fresh air, and her carefree nature brought me back to life. Inspired, I poured everything into my game development work, and success followed. For the first time, I was finding my own path. And just as Vanessa and I became serious, Amanda came back. She hooked me, played me like a puppet. She cried over how much she missed me, knowing just how to push my buttons and rekindle my guilt. She even claimed she’d only broken up with me to “inspire” me to grow. As ridiculous as it sounded, my heart softened. I let her worm her way back in, though I never intended to leave Vanessa. Then Diane got involved. She reached Vanessa before coming to me, showing her recordings of my desperate phone calls to Amanda after the breakup. She even played a recording of my mom’s visit, begging Diane for my chance. Vanessa wasn’t the type to be swayed easily, but Diane knew exactly how to break her resolve. After Vanessa refused to break up with me, Diane went straight to Green Hills, causing a scene, screaming that Vanessa was a homewrecker, that she was destroying her daughter’s life. By the time Vanessa was about to call the police, Diane coolly apologized, claiming it was a “mistake.” Then she whispered that she’d be back—and next time, it wouldn’t be a mistake. She’d keep showing up and keep disrupting Vanessa’s life until she walked away. And Vanessa did. Before she left, she looked Diane in the eyes and said, “Once I’m gone, I’ll be his ‘one that got away.’ Amanda will forever live in my shadow.” In that moment, hearing her voice on the recording Diane so proudly played for me, I felt the last of my happiness slip through my fingers. I stood there, expressionless, watching Diane’s smug face as resentment bloomed inside me. Every humiliation, every grievance I’d endured resurfaced. Diane had destroyed my mother. Amanda had treated me like dirt. And now, with Diane’s help, Amanda was back in my life. They wanted this marriage? Fine. I would give it to them, and everything they thought they wanted. I acted unsure, reluctantly giving in to their pressure, and eventually, Amanda and I got married. She soon began nudging me about putting her name on the deed, and I pretended to go along. I told her I’d buy a house and put her name on the title. The smile didn’t even reach her face. Diane quickly started dropping hints, telling me how all her cousins had homes under their wives’ names. I’d nod, play along, and wait. Finally, Amanda and I found a place we liked and waited for a promotional discount to hit. Conveniently, I had a “business trip” during the sale days. Diane and Amanda panicked, calling me several times to transfer the funds. I played along, wiring the money. Predictably, they finalized the sale in Amanda’s name only. I returned with every bank record in hand. Diane then suggested it was time I bought a new car and “gently persuaded” me to sell my old one. She finalized the new car paperwork under Amanda’s name while I was “away.” Once it was done, they were sure everything was secure, and only then did we sign the marriage license. As far as they were concerned, the car and house were all “premarital assets.” Right before the wedding, I met Vanessa one last time. She saw my frustration and reassured me, “Don’t be sad. With me, you may never have kids or a marriage. I’d rather be your ‘one that got away’ than the leftovers on your plate.” When I asked if she’d regret never getting married or having a legacy, she laughed, saying she’d donate her eggs if she wanted to leave something behind. After that meeting, I began to see things differently. Maybe this marriage could work in my favor. More than a year into our marriage, Amanda began worrying she wasn’t getting pregnant. Diane was quick to plant doubts, hinting that men “so big and strong” as me might still have hidden issues. This was followed by thinly veiled threats of financial “compensation” if I was “deceitful.” So, with Diane’s push, we began our long, frustrating journey through fertility treatments. No luck. Nothing seemed wrong, but we weren’t conceiving. I admit, I sabotaged it a bit here and there. Eventually, we landed on the option of IVF. And that’s when my show began. Everything was playing out exactly as I wanted. The night Amanda caught me in the bathroom, I’d intentionally turned the water on loud enough for her to hear. She came to wrap her arms around me, and I pulled up Vanessa’s photo just as she got close enough to see. The moment she raised her hand to hit me, I knew I had her. I told her I’d even used Vanessa’s photo during the IVF sample collection, watching as her final bit of composure shattered. Predictably, Diane woke up from the argument, her blood pressure spiking immediately. I jumped into the role of the “manipulated son-in-law,” appearing the very next morning to make Diane’s favorite breakfast. Every meal I cooked for her was packed with high sodium, high-fat content, things that would worsen her condition. She’d sit, eat, barely moving afterward. I even brought her extra snacks. Within days, she suffered a stroke on the toilet. After the funeral, I stared at myself in the mirror, watching as my face twisted into a grin. Was it cruel? Not nearly enough. The real show had just begun.

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Bella Sinclair and I were kidnapped at the same time, and Adrian Bennett came running with half a million dollars in ransom – to save Bella, of course. My son, whom I carried for ten long months, naturally echoed his dad: “I want Bella to come with us! Dad, she’ll be scared if she stays here alone!” The system informed me that my “mission” had failed: “If your body dies, you’ll return to the original world.” Fine by me. All I wanted was a way out, to go home. But then my husband and son discovered I truly didn’t want to live and threw themselves into begging me to stay: “I was wrong! Please, please don’t leave us!” Content After twelve years spent trying to win over Adrian Bennett, he still didn’t hesitate to choose Bella over me. Adrian only needed a couple of seconds to untie Bella’s ropes, his eyes full of worry. And there beside him, Jonah, just like his father, fussed over Bella’s bruised wrists, blowing on her red skin. “Bella, this will make it feel better.” The three of them stood there, tender and cozy, entirely forgetting that I was still bound in the hands of the kidnapper. Even the man holding me couldn’t help but sneer. “That husband of yours is lost in the warmth of another woman’s arms. I bet he’s not coming back for you – should I just call it a day here?” As I watched Adrian and Jonah walk off with Bella, the system officially deemed my mission a failure. The penalty, a jolt of electric shock, knocked me out instantly. Through my foggy consciousness, I felt the kidnapper support my collapsing body. “All I did was say something harsh, no need to pass out! Oh no, oh no… I better get her to a hospital, don’t want to be in trouble if something really happens to her.”

I woke up in the hospital and confirmed with the system that, if I died here, I could finally go home. Once I had my answer, I made my way toward the window. My room was on a high floor, high enough to make the jump fatal. I opened the window and threw myself forward. As the wind roared past my ears, stinging against my skin, I felt no fear – only an intense, bittersweet relief. Just a little further, and I’d be back home, back to a place where I was truly loved. I closed my eyes, calm and ready. But a moment later, the sensation of falling stopped. My arm was yanked sharply, the force ripping through my muscles, pain radiating from my shoulder into my chest. I opened my eyes, feeling as if my arm had nearly broken. The one holding me was Ethan Carrington, Adrian’s half-brother. I looked up at the sweaty, panicked boy and spoke calmly, “Let go.” Ethan gritted his teeth and pulled harder, putting every ounce of strength into hoisting me up. “Seriously? All because my brother didn’t choose you, you’re doing something this stupid? What’s going on in that head of yours?” With effort, I began prying his fingers off, one by one. “Ethan, my death would suit you perfectly, so just let go.”

Ethan Carrington couldn’t stand me. Actually, none of Adrian’s inner circle wanted me around. After Bella ran off for love, Adrian married me under family pressure, and his people were convinced I had swooped in at her lowest point to stake my claim. I was met with obvious hostility and rejection. Ethan was always the first in line. With his rights as Adrian’s brother, he’d stroll right into Bennett Manor and ruin the garden of flowers I’d planted in the backyard. He even suggested that Jonah adopt a stray cat despite knowing I was severely allergic to cat hair. When I objected, Ethan coached Jonah to cry, making a big scene that echoed through the whole house. Then he jumped in, pretending to be the “good guy.” “It’s just a little cat. Let the kid have it if he likes it.” Jonah only cried louder, throwing a full-blown tantrum and rolling on the floor, muttering, “Mom’s mean. I want the cat.” I chased both Ethan and the cat out, then patiently explained to Jonah that I was allergic to cats and couldn’t have one but that we could get a puppy instead. But Ethan had Jonah so focused on that cat that he refused to hear me out, hitting me and demanding that I bring back his kitten. That day drove a wedge between us. Ethan seized the opportunity to plant more doubts in Jonah’s mind, convincing him that I was the “bad guy.” Like a demon crawling up from the depths, Ethan made it his mission to turn my life upside down.

I didn’t succeed in dying. Ethan’s ruckus attracted the medical staff, and together they pulled me back inside. Ethan shot me a glare and shut the window, falling silent for once. His hands trembled, knuckles red and bruised. “Vanessa, I don’t hate you as much as you think,” he muttered, his head down, messy hair covering his eyes. I almost thought I sensed a bit of regret in his voice. But before I could delve further, Ethan crossed his arms, looked up, and returned to his usual careless attitude. “So, what kind of new stunt is this supposed to be? I’ll tell you right now – my brother doesn’t fall for this hard-to-get stuff. Keep it up, and you’ll just push him away…” As he rambled on in his own world, the nurses checked the equipment nearby. I seized the chance to make my way back to the window and pulled it open again. But just as my foot hovered over the edge, Ethan grabbed me back with force. After stopping me twice, Ethan finally seemed to realize I was serious about ending my life. He moved me away from the window, making sure I was safely within his reach before he began trying to talk me down, with an oddly gentle tone. “Don’t be reckless, okay? My brother isn’t the only man in the world. Why cling to him this tightly?” He coughed awkwardly, a hint of pink touching his cheeks. “Look, I’ll admit, he’s not a great husband. But divorce him if you have to; he’s not worth dying over. And who knows? Maybe someone else out there’s been quietly in love with you, and you just never noticed.”

Ethan took me back to Bennett Manor. On the way, he informed me, “Adrian found out that the whole kidnapping was your plan, so he’s busy comforting Bella after the ‘trauma’ of it all.” “He’s angry, so apologize to Bella, and it’ll all blow over. Keep him calm, and the divorce will go smoothly.” I ignored him, turning to stare out the car window. The scenery blurred past, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. I thought back to the panic of the kidnapper rushing me to the hospital before I passed out. It was obvious that Bella had set me up yet again, pinning the blame on me so she could play the innocent “victim” in Adrian’s eyes. This wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was like Bella and I were two magnets with opposing poles, pushing each other away yet constantly colliding in harm. And Adrian? He was the iron that spun endlessly around Bella. No matter how thin her schemes were, to him, they were just more proof of her delicate charm and fragility. He always took her side, the scales never tipping in my favor. All my fighting, despair, and even hysterics only earned me one response from him: “Stop making a scene. Look at what you’ve become.”

I remembered back to when the system first assigned me to “win over” Adrian Bennett. Back then, Bella had run off with her love, leaving Adrian, the “tragic second lead,” to drown his sorrows in alcohol every night. The system had pointed to the drunken man passed out in the corner and said he was my target. I needed to reach 100% affection to return home. I didn’t understand why love from a man was the only way to succeed, but I tried. If going home meant this was the path, then I’d play along. I started with the basics. He drank himself sick at the bar, so I’d apologize to everyone, clean up his mess, and even help him get home. He’d talk about Bella’s favorite desserts, so I took baking classes to learn his tastes. But he never even looked at the treats I painstakingly made – they went straight to the trash. He warned me never to imitate Bella, that I wasn’t even worthy of standing in her shadow. I never made desserts again, though I did start learning to cook. Adrian’s stomach couldn’t handle late nights, so I made balanced meals and brought them to his office. Maybe my food wasn’t bad because he eventually started tolerating me around him. Those were the most peaceful days we had together. His affection climbed all the way to 98%. Just as I thought I’d be able to go home soon, one night of reckless drinking ended in my pregnancy. And Adrian, pressured by his family, married me. His “affection” plummeted. He believed I had tricked him, that I’d gotten pregnant on purpose, trapping him. Funny how he conveniently ignored who didn’t bother to use protection that night. He and Bella were alike in that way, both needing to lay blame on others. Did that make their guilt easier to bear? How ridiculous. I’ll never understand it.

I followed Adrian through the door of Bennett Manor, and there on the sofa, looking utterly relaxed, was Bella. Adrian and Jonah each played their part: Adrian brought over a plate of cut-up fruit and fed Bella piece by piece, while Jonah sat by her feet, grinning with his big toothy smile as he massaged her legs. If they had tails, they’d surely be wagging them by now. When Adrian turned and noticed me, his expression turned stern. He grabbed a file from the coffee table and threw it in my face. Rising with a towering, intimidating presence, he glared at me. “Vanessa! I can handle you throwing a tantrum, but harming Bella? That’s unforgivable!” “You set up that fake kidnapping just to get my attention? If something happened to Bella, you’d be rotting in jail!” I bent down, picked up the scattered pages, and read through them, unable to hold back a laugh. It was just a statement from the kidnapper, nothing more. If Adrian had even the slightest bit of faith in me, he’d look into the bank account used to pay the kidnappers and realize I was innocent. But people only see what they want to see. Bella, sensing my reaction, sprang from the sofa and gripped Adrian’s sleeve in a panic. “Adrian, I’m fine, really. You don’t need to get so worked up… It would be horrible for Vanessa to end up in jail…” Before she could finish, my hand lashed out, slapping her hard across the face. The crack of the slap echoed through the entire room. Bella stood there, stunned, as if unable to process what had just happened. Everyone else was frozen in place too. Adrian snapped out of it first. Fury filled his eyes as he grabbed my throat, his grip tightening. Fighting to breathe, I twisted and struggled, looking up at him with contempt. “You think that flimsy statement will put me in jail? You’re a fool if you think the police would fall for that.” The words seemed to hit a nerve; his hands tightened, and I felt my air slipping away. The darkness started closing in, yet I couldn’t help but let a smile creep across my face. Just as the edges of my vision began to fade, Ethan’s fist collided with Adrian’s face, snapping him out of it. His grip loosened, and I slumped to the floor, gasping for air. I shot a glare at Ethan, my reluctant savior, who looked back at me, clearly unsatisfied, and landed another punch on Adrian. “She almost died. Do you even get that? You almost killed her!” Adrian looked stunned, rubbing his wrist as if deciding whether to hit back. But after a moment, he shoved Ethan aside, casting me a conflicted look before averting his gaze. “So what if she died? She shouldn’t have messed with Bella in the first place.”

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On the day Leigh’s first love returned to the States, I set fire to our home. I left with nothing but the twin kids she’d given me. When she was gravely ill and needed a kidney, I didn’t hesitate to donate mine. Yet she believed I had done it all to marry her, blaming me for breaking up her romance with her first love. Now I’ve finally given up, faked my death, and left for good. But when she heard of my supposed death, she completely fell apart. Content ### Chapter 1 The Harvest Moon Festival is a day for family reunions and, for us, it’s also the kids’ birthday. After they begged Leigh over and over, she finally agreed to come home for once. She’d casually mentioned wanting a home-cooked meal, so despite being feverish, I pushed through and made a full spread of dishes. The food is long cold now, and the kids are still up, holding onto their cake, refusing to go to sleep. Leigh still hasn’t shown. My head is swimming, and after popping a handful of painkillers, I step outside. I know where she is. Whenever she’s restless, she always goes to her girlfriends to vent. I find her at The Estate; soft lights glow from the yard where she’s clinking glasses with her friends. “So Chase Maddox is back in town,” one of them says, laughing. “What’s your plan for Max Caldwell—the one you brought in to help your family—and those twins of yours?” I reach up to knock but freeze mid-air, my hand stopping in midair as I hear Leigh’s response. “I’ll divorce him. He can take the kids. No need to make Chase uncomfortable.” Her answer is cold, decisive, and just as I expected. After all, if it hadn’t been for Gramps Dawson pushing her to marry me on his deathbed, Chase would have never left for Europe. She used his departure as her own protest, vanishing on our wedding day and turning me into the town’s biggest joke. After a year of marriage without seeing each other, we had one impulsive night that ended with her pregnant with the twins. As soon as they were born, Leigh had the nurse take them away without a second look. To her, they were proof of her betrayal of the one she truly loved. When she promised to come home for the kids’ birthday, I thought maybe she was finally softening. But as silence settled over the night, one of her friends spoke up. “Honestly, your husband’s been good to you. Even after his family went bankrupt, he helped get your company off the ground, drinking with clients until he had stomach ulcers. All to see you succeed.” “Please,” another friend snorted. “Without him, Leigh would’ve done fine on her own. If he hadn’t butted in and donated that kidney, her grandpa wouldn’t have forced her to marry him. Chase and Leigh could’ve been together all these years.” “He’s nothing but a freeloader who thinks he’s still some kind of big shot. Just dump him already.” Hearing that, I felt my heart clench as Leigh spoke again, cool and dismissive. “Let’s drop the subject. Cheers.” Another friend gave a sly smile and teased, “Max Caldwell is handsome, I’ll give him that. And if you don’t want him anymore, why not let us sample what he’s got to offer?” “Just treat him like a model on demand!” Amid the laughter, Leigh silently raised her glass, downing her champagne in one go. ### Chapter 2 My life has rarely gone as planned. It veers off course, drifting in and out of freezing snowstorms. I first met Leigh Dawson at a Charity Gala held by my family’s foundation. Back then, I was still the Caldwell Heir, and she was just a young startup owner who had used a friend’s ticket to get in. Among the auction items that night was one of my own paintings. People were offering high bids, hoping for a way into the Caldwell circle. But tucked in a quiet corner was one girl completely absorbed in my painting. The piece, called Mother, was my proudest work. A tear fell from her eye as she gazed at it, unaware that I was watching her. When she finally noticed me, she took a few steps back, looking at me timidly. “You’re very talented, Mr. Caldwell. But I can’t afford it,” she said softly. It was like a gentle breeze touched my heart, setting it racing. Later, I learned that Leigh had lost her parents young and had been raised by her grandfather. She’d been deeply moved by my painting. I gifted it to her that night, beginning six years of unrequited love. Leigh was always composed, distant, never fully rejecting me but never reciprocating. And so, I kept trying to win her over, connecting her to resources and watching her company grow. But then the Caldwell empire crumbled, leaving me as the sole survivor. Physically alive, but that was all. Despite Aunt Caroline’s protests, I donated my kidney to Leigh. The complications nearly killed me, and I had to abandon my art. Gramps Dawson knew the debt his family owed me, and on his deathbed, he forced Leigh to marry me. Reluctantly, she agreed—with the condition that I’d move into her household. Only after we were married did I learn that her heart belonged to her first love. Her “husband” would always be someone else. That year, at the Harvest Moon Festival, Leigh came home drunk for the first time. I’d only meant to help her to bed, but she clung to me, her hands wandering over my body. “Kiss me,” she whispered. One impulsive act, one monumental mistake. When I woke up, she slapped me across the face, her eyes full of tears. “Marrying me wasn’t enough? You had to go and do something so low?” I should’ve left then. ### Chapter 3 Exhausted, I returned to The Estate, the prison of my marriage to Leigh. Sure enough, the kids were still up. They ran to me, clinging to my leg. “Daddy, is Mom back too?” They ran to the door, only to turn around disappointed, heads hanging. Piper’s face reddened, and he burst into tears. “Mommy doesn’t want us, does she?” My heart clenched painfully. I knelt down and hugged them. “I want you both. Will you come with me?” I couldn’t tell them that, to Leigh, they were just obstacles on her road to happiness. Arlo, ever the little grown-up, patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Daddy. Wherever you go, we’ll go too.” I finally got them to sleep and stumbled into the bathroom, letting the shower drown out my sobs. Becoming their father hadn’t brought them a moment of happiness. Leigh had wanted to abort them as soon as she found out, only stopping when the doctor told her she’d never be able to have children again. She still dreamed of having kids with Chase. When the twins were born, she refused to even look at them, calling them disgusting. I raised them on my own, becoming both father and mother. Outside, she denied their existence. If they tried to call her “Mom,” she’d scold them as if they were strangers. Leaving is freedom for all of us. But maybe, out of guilt, Leigh remembered her promise to the kids. Late that night, she came back. I was packing when I heard her cold voice behind me. “What are you doing?” I turned and saw her staring at me with an unusual look in her slightly tipsy eyes. “Can’t sleep. Just cleaning up a bit,” I replied, trying to stay calm. A gust of cool night air blew in, cooling my fevered skin as Leigh stumbled into my arms, almost pleading. “Stay with me, Chase,” she whispered. She was so drunk she mistook me for him. Before I could pull away, she kissed me, her hands tugging impatiently at my shirt buttons, hungry and forceful. The mocking laughter of her friends echoed in my ears. “Just treat him like a model on demand!” ### Chapter 4 Humiliation and pain surged through me. I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed her away. “If you love Chase so much, you shouldn’t have married me. Why put us both through this misery?” “I may love you, but I’m still a man with dignity.” Leigh’s gaze cleared, resentment darkening her eyes. I ignored her, continuing to pack my things. She grabbed my wrist and, noticing my feverish skin, scolded me, “Can’t you even take care of yourself?” She tried to check my temperature, but I shook her off. “You came looking for me. What did you hear?” I’d reached my breaking point and couldn’t hold back anymore. “You think Chase left because of our marriage? He left because he was afraid you’d make him donate his kidney!” “How dare you insult him!” she spat, throwing a glass at me. I didn’t dodge. It hit my forehead, shattering into pieces and drawing blood. To her, I was just a vessel for all her anger—smashable and replaceable. My blood blurred my vision, and for a moment, I thought I saw her reach out in concern, only to pull her hand back. She stood there, cold and unfeeling. “I came back like you wanted. Now leave me alone.” Her heels clicked away into the night, taking with them what little remained of my heart. The next morning, she had her assistant drop off birthday presents for Piper and Arlo. The kids left them at the door, unimpressed. Piper scoffed, “It’s not even my birthday today. What’s the point?” Arlo, indignant, declared, “We used to want her back for Daddy’s sake. Now that Daddy doesn’t want her, neither do we.” Even at barely two years old, they were already heartbreakingly mature, wise beyond their years. “Daddy,” Arlo asked in his soft little voice, “where are we going to go?” I ruffled his hair, replying, “Back to Gramma’s Place.” The Caldwell estate was long sold; all I had left was Gramma’s old home. Mom had tried many times to bring her to the city, but Gramma had refused to leave her small town, so I’d spent many summers there, keeping her company. “There’s no amusement park there, no skyscrapers. Just birds, flowers, streams, and bridges.” The kids hugged me tightly, cutting off my words. “With Daddy, anywhere’s the best place.” ### Chapter 5 Leigh and I have both been busy lately. She’s preparing for Chase’s return, and I’m planning to leave with the kids. She’s always had the upper hand, so if I want to leave, I need to be prepared. Even though the kids say they don’t want her, I can tell they’re still looking wistfully at her picture the night before we leave. I hesitate before finally calling her. She picks up, her tone as impatient as ever. “What do you want?” “The kids want to see you one last time. Are you going to come back?” I wonder if she’ll return for this final moment together. But then I hear Chase’s voice. “Leigh, if you’re too busy, I’ll just head back to the States. Apparently, I don’t matter much.” Chase’s tone is careless, but Leigh jumps to reassure him. “You matter, Chase. He’s nothing.” Then the line goes dead. It feels pointless, even asking for a farewell. The painting I once gave her still hangs above her bed, and I remember that tear of hers the day she first saw it. I light a match and let the flames consume it. Our marriage started with that painting, and it’ll end with it too. The fire spreads quickly, racing up the walls, devouring the room. With the kids in tow, I walk away, not looking back. Leigh, I’m giving you the freedom you wanted. The fire roars with intensity, burning everything to ash. I take the kids and return to Gramma’s Place, now in a small tourist town where visitors often wander by. After she passed, the house remained unchanged, gathering dust. Wiping it away, I can almost see her handing me a big slice of watermelon, her smile wrinkling at the edges as she teased me for eating like a messy kitten. With the kids, I find peace. Together, we clean up the overgrown yard, working side by side, and I make plans to open a little craft shop selling souvenirs for the tourists. News breaks of the Dawson Estate going up in flames, with reports that Leigh Dawson’s husband and twins are believed to have perished in the fire. But that night, Leigh is in a hotel room with Chase, who laughs and says he’s off to the drugstore to pick up some “essentials” for the night. She knows exactly what he means. ### Chapter 6 After Chase leaves, Leigh places a hand over her chest, surprised at how calm she feels. There’s no thrill, no flutter. So, when Chase comes back and makes his move, she finds herself instinctively pulling away. “Sorry, work emergency—I need to go.” She rushes out, feeling a strange unease she can’t quite understand. That night with Max hadn’t been the alcohol-fueled blur she pretended it was. She’d known exactly who she was with, drawn to him in a way she couldn’t explain. Her regret made it easier to blame him, anyway. Max always took it. When news of the fire reached her, Leigh froze. For just a moment, guilt slipped into her mind, and she wondered if, by coming home that night, things might have turned out differently. But the thought vanished as quickly as it came. She assured herself that it was all a ploy, just another of Max’s pathetic schemes to win her sympathy. “Really, what’s he up to this time?” She couldn’t hide the disdain in her voice. Then her assistant handed her the recovered items from the fire—a blackened wedding ring and two half-charred presents. The ring was all Max had held onto from their marriage, something he’d always kept with him. The kids’ gifts hadn’t even been unwrapped before the fire consumed them. “They believe the fire started in the bedroom. It seems like he locked himself in from the inside. No one could’ve escaped that fire.” Leigh stumbled, gripping the table. “So, you’re saying he chose to stay? That he’d rather die there with the kids than escape?”

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I decided to give up on Beckett. It all started with something trivial. During our research group meeting, Lily brought in some soy milk and buns. Beckett, always protective of the younger girls, covered for her: “Lily’s still young and likes to eat. Let’s cut her some slack.” Everyone teased her, their eyes occasionally darting towards me. Only my roommate, who was close to me, stood up for me: “Beckett, aren’t you being biased? When Zoe had a stomach ache and wanted to eat something, you didn’t allow it!” The room fell silent for a moment. Beckett’s face darkened. “Zoe, what are you up to now? There’s a time and place for your tantrums. No one here is going to indulge you!” “Yeah, she’s just seeking attention,” I heard someone mutter. For some reason, I sighed inwardly. It all felt so pointless. I took off my name tag and looked up at Beckett. “I want to leave the research group.” As soon as I said this, the senior girls tried to calm me down. After all, if you made some achievements in the research group, you had a chance for guaranteed admission to graduate school. “It’s fine. I’ve made up my mind. I’ll go explain the situation to the professor later.” “Are you throwing another tantrum? Do you need everyone to revolve around you? It’s just letting Lily have breakfast, do you have to be so petty?” Beckett’s tone was cold and slightly impatient. I looked at Beckett seriously and explained, “I’m not throwing a tantrum. It’s just…” I pointed at some people. “She, he, she, these people all got in through Lily’s connections. They do the least work and like to gossip. I don’t like this research environment.” It’s quite tiring, playing along with them day after day. As soon as I said this, the people I pointed at all turned pale, lowering their heads guiltily. The other seniors didn’t say anything, but Lily started crying: “What did I ever do to you, senior? Why are you publicly humiliating me like this…” “These are all my classmates. If they don’t get some credits from the research group, they’ll fail their courses. I was just trying to help them, and Beckett agreed.” I nodded. “Mm-hmm, but the research group doesn’t belong to you alone. You’re being kind on your own, so everyone else has to bear the consequences? Is that your robber’s logic?” “Enough! Zoe, don’t you think you’re acting like a lunatic right now? I’m willing to cover for her, what’s it to you?” Beckett’s words felt like a hard slap across my face, making me blush and feel a bit strange. Was he still the Beckett I remembered, the one who always protected me? His next words pushed me into an abyss. “Zoe has a mental illness. She sometimes becomes unstable and has episodes. Lily, don’t take what she says to heart.” Beckett took out a tissue and gently wiped Lily’s tears. “Really? She doesn’t look like it.” Lily glanced at me, full of curiosity and disdain. “It’s true. I even have her diagnosis here.” My heart, which had been lifted high, was now heavily smashed down. In a daze, I remembered how seven-year-old Beckett had chased away the bullies and wiped my tears, telling me he would always stand by my side. Now he was cruelly exposing my wounds, just to comfort another girl.

The application to leave the group was a bit troublesome. The professor said he was busy and wanted me to stay for a while longer. I had no choice but to agree. I just made sure to go when Beckett wasn’t around. But deep down, I was still hoping Beckett would notice something was wrong and come find me. After all, habits formed over so many years aren’t easy to let go of. One day, as I was walking back to the dorm after finishing an experiment, A tall figure was standing in the middle of the path. I turned to take another route, but Beckett caught up with me. “Zoe!” He grabbed my hand. “Why have you been avoiding me lately?” I tried to break free with some force. Beckett directly put his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to turn around. He lowered his head, his gaze soft. “Are you angry with me?” I turned my head, not wanting to deal with him. He laughed a little. “Zoe, are you jealous? I didn’t mean to protect Lily. It’s just that her dad is our biggest investor, and I don’t want to offend her. I can only go along with her a bit. How about this, I’ll let you eat breakfast in the meeting room from now on too?” I finally looked at him directly. “Beckett, it’s not about the breakfast.” He knew that due to certain things, I had a period where I couldn’t sleep for days and nights, leading to some mental instability, but it wasn’t the mental illness he described. Yet he just brought it up as a topic of conversation. Did he ever consider my feelings? His eyes shifted a bit, probably realizing what I was referring to. Then he reached into his pocket and slipped something onto my hand. In the light from the street lamps, I could see clearly. It was a finely crafted silver bracelet. “Zoe, you’ve always envied how other girls’ parents buy them silver bracelets, right? I saved up to buy you one too. But a silver bracelet is too cheap for my Zoe. So I bought a gold one and plated it with silver.” Indeed, people are often imprisoned for life by the things they couldn’t have in their youth. At that moment, when I saw the bracelet, I ultimately softened. From childhood to adulthood, Beckett had always been by my side. He played the roles of friend and older brother, and I had developed some feelings for him that I shouldn’t have. Besides him, I had no one else to rely on. Maybe I should forgive him? Back in the dorm, after thinking for a long time, I finally sent him an emoji. Beckett also sent an emoji back in sync, And sent me a ticket to the swimming pool, asking if I wanted to go swimming tomorrow. The smile on my face froze for a moment. Had he forgotten? Tomorrow was my period.

The next day, I still decided to keep the appointment. I put on some light makeup but didn’t wear a swimsuit. I thought Beckett must have been too busy lately and didn’t pay attention to when my period was. I could just watch him swim from the side. When I arrived at the swimming pool, I found a group of people gathered at the entrance, both men and women, with Lily among them. Seeing me arrive, the group of guys flashed a look of mockery: “How boring, those with bad figures really don’t dare to show off. So this is all the campus beauty amounts to? I still prefer girls who are more open and confident.” I frowned. Lily covered her mouth and laughed lightly, “Can’t be helped, some people are just petty. I don’t know why Beckett even invited her.” Beckett’s face didn’t look too good either, probably feeling a bit embarrassed. “Didn’t I tell you to wear a swimsuit? How are you going to swim in a short-sleeved shirt and long pants?” “I’m on my period.” So he really had forgotten. Beckett’s brow flashed a hint of displeasure. “Why did it have to be today? But swimming during your period should be fine, right?” Seeing that I didn’t say anything, he seemed to realize his words were inappropriate and tugged at the hem of my shirt, pleading: “Come on, Zoe, I’m not a girl, forgive me for not knowing. Please?” Then he suddenly turned around and said, “Last time Zoe publicly embarrassed Lily, so I specially called her out today for Zoe to apologize to you, Lily.” I looked back at him in disbelief. “Why should I?” Why should I apologize? It was Lily who brought in people through connections, how did this become my fault? Beckett pulled me aside and whispered in my ear: “Think of the bigger picture, Zoe. I need this research achievement to get my foot in the door at a renowned company. You don’t want to be poor with me forever, do you?” I keenly caught the key point: “Poor with you forever?” “Yes.” He turned to face me, his expression bland, but if you looked closely, there was a hint of disdain in his eyes: “Zoe, I know you’ve always liked me, and I like you too. If you apologize to Lily now, I’ll agree to be with you. Otherwise, I’ll agree to be with Lily.” As he spoke, for some reason he suddenly became haughty: “After all, we have over a decade of feelings between us, I can’t bear to let you go. As long as you apologize and stay in the research group to help me, I’ll be with you.” I took a few steps back, looking Beckett up and down carefully, and finally shook my head: “You’re really so confident, aren’t you?” “What?” He didn’t quite hear clearly. Habit is a terrifying thing. Beckett and I could be considered childhood sweethearts. From elementary school, middle school, high school, to now in university, we’ve always been in the same school. For so long, I got used to him, relied on him, and fell in love with him. Beckett is a year older than me. Since I was little, I was fostered at my uncle’s house, and Beckett was the next-door neighbor. When I was young, children’s emotions were very obvious. As long as my cousin disliked me, everyone living in that area would isolate me. Only Beckett was different. He always included me, bringing food for me and letting me join in games. You could say that the little warmth in my childhood all came from Beckett. He could indeed manipulate me. I always did whatever he said. But for some reason, starting from that breakfast incident, I really felt so tired of dealing with him. I even thought that if he liked someone else, he should just go ahead, and stop bothering me. During this standoff, the swimming coach came over. “Those of you who are swimming, be careful.” The coach suddenly produced a chair from the side and gave it to me: “I see you’ve been holding your stomach. You must be on your period, right? My daughter is just like you every time she has her period, looking so uncomfortable.” I unconsciously touched my face. Was it that obvious? If even a stranger could notice, how could Beckett not know?

“Alright. Think about it carefully.” With that, Beckett went towards Lily. “Oh right, we’re going out for dinner after swimming. Remember to book the restaurant.” I didn’t move, watching as Beckett took out a bag of water bottles, giving the only uniquely packaged one to Lily. The ones he gave to others were all the same. Lily looked a bit shy, and everyone else teased them. I suddenly remembered that when we were kids playing house, Beckett did the same thing. He bought a bunch of lollipops, giving the only special one to the prettiest girl, asking her to play his wife, while distributing the identical ones to the rest of us. He won our hearts while achieving his goal. Everyone ate their lollipops on the spot, but I kept mine, hiding it away, too precious to eat. Because it was the first time I had gotten a snack that was just for me. Later, when Beckett found out, he bought me a few similar ones, but never gave me that special one again. I couldn’t help but laugh. Even though I knew he was just using the most common way to win people over, I was the one he had won over most successfully, Without any complaints. I was never his special treatment, Just one of the willing victims in his wide net. On the way to dinner, I carried bags for Beckett and his group as usual, walking a bit slower. By the time Beckett reached the private room I had booked, he messaged me saying they had already ordered, While I was still halfway there. Maybe because I had been following behind Beckett since I was little, I was used to him walking in front, with me slowly following behind alone. When I reached the door of the private room, I could hear Lily’s voice from inside, “Beckett, can you really make Zoe apologize to me? She’s known as the ice queen, doesn’t care about anyone.” “Don’t worry. You saw just now, I asked her to carry our bags and she didn’t say anything. Just an apology, what’s the big deal? She’s been following me like a dog since she was little, give her a little treat and she’ll come along. Besides, apart from me, she has no one else she can trust.” A few guys were also flattering him, putting me down. My hand that was about to knock on the door paused. I put down the bags and quietly listened at the door. “Beckett is really something! But Beckett, what kind of love potion did you give Zoe to make her so devoted to you?” “Yeah, yeah! Beckett is so lucky, with Zoe on one side and Lily on the other.” I heard Beckett sneer, “What love potion? She’s just too starved for love. Show her a little kindness and she’ll be willing to die for you. Don’t talk nonsense, I only like Lily. As for Zoe… she’s too eager, a bit cheap.” There was laughter inside. Strangely, I felt nothing in my heart. I even found it a bit boring, as if I had locked myself in a room, quietly waiting for it to crumble and collapse into ruins. Slowly, I finally saw the light of day again. I put down the bags and went to eat a bowl of noodles by myself, then bought some pastries I liked. My whole body felt warm and cozy. Then I took some time to block and delete all of Beckett’s contact information, And found a campus errand runner to return all the gifts Beckett had given me, including that silver bracelet. Actually, that bracelet wasn’t even pure silver, let alone gold. I knew as soon as I put it on. I’m not an idiot, I just used to be willing to play along with Beckett’s act, deceiving myself.

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Our live-in nanny’s daughter has been acting a little strange lately. She keeps giving me these hateful looks—subtle, but definitely there—and blaring her phone in the living room with videos about “switched heiresses.” My brother, Wesley, couldn’t take it anymore and came to complain. “Natalie, do you think Riley Harper has convinced herself that you and she were switched at birth?” “She’s been looking at me with these weird, ‘maternal’ eyes, and honestly, it’s freaking me out.” I laughed. Did she really think our family’s annual health checkups didn’t include DNA testing? Content I’m Natalie Channing, the only daughter of Victor and Elizabeth Channing, owners of Channing Enterprises. Like most heiresses, my parents are often away for work, so they hired a live-in nanny, Margaret Harper, to take care of me and my younger brother, Wesley. Margaret has a daughter around my age, Riley Harper. She’s lived with us since we were kids, eating, sleeping, and growing up under the same roof. But Margaret doesn’t seem to like her own daughter. It’s painfully obvious to everyone in our family—her disdain is written all over her actions. Once, I asked my parents if we should step in and address their mother-daughter relationship. After all, Riley is often ignored or treated harshly, and it’s honestly pretty pitiful. But my parents told me not to meddle in other people’s lives. And when I tried to stand up for Riley, Margaret—who was usually polite to me—coldly shot me down: “That’s our family business.” After that, I let it go. But recently, Riley’s behavior toward me has become strange. And I mean really strange. First, she kept asking Wesley when our parents, who were on a vacation, would return. Then, she started glaring at me with outright contempt. And finally—Wesley’s personal favorite—she took to blaring “switched heiress” videos in the living room for everyone to hear. As Wesley put it, “It’s like her every thought is just written all over her face.” I couldn’t help but laugh. How ridiculous could she get? There’s no way. Even if we’re close in age, her mom treats me better than she treats her own daughter… Wait. Could I actually be the one who was switched at birth? In a panic, I ran to the study and dug through my eighteen years’ worth of health checkups. Thankfully, my parents were wise enough to include DNA testing in every annual exam. Looking at the reports confirming our family ties, I breathed a sigh of relief. Riley must’ve just overdosed on her “switched heiress” fiction. I decided to drop the matter. At least, until dinner the other night when Riley sweetly asked Wesley, “Hey Wes, don’t you think you and I look a little alike?” Wesley, fork mid-air, froze. “Riley, are you out of your mind? What do I have to do with you? My real sister is sitting right here.” Margaret nearly choked on her food. “You ungrateful brat!” Margaret snapped, smacking Riley on the head with her chopsticks. “How dare you? “Mr. and Mrs. Channing aren’t home, and the fact that Natalie and Wesley let us eat with them is a privilege. What makes you think you can speak so recklessly?!” Riley’s eyes filled with tears. “When Mr. and Mrs. Channing come back, you’ll regret this!” she spat before storming off. What had I even done? Margaret turned to us with an apologetic smile. “Miss Natalie, Master Wesley, I’m so sorry. Riley’s been getting more and more out of hand. I’ll make sure to discipline her.” I raised an eyebrow and said pointedly, “Margaret, maybe you should try a different approach. After all, she is your daughter. Shouldn’t you be treating her better?” I emphasized the words “your daughter” just to see if she was aware of Riley’s delusions. But Margaret only laughed lightly. “You’re right, Miss Natalie. People like me from the countryside don’t know much about raising kids. “Back home, girls Riley’s age would’ve already been married off to help their brothers afford a wife. “But here, Mr. Channing even pays for her to go to school. Instead of being grateful, she’s behaving like this…” I didn’t know what to say to that. Margaret clearly didn’t care whether Riley was really her daughter or not. Curious, I asked, “Margaret, why have you always treated me so kindly?” Her face lit up. “Because Mr. and Mrs. Channing have been so good to me. I’ve watched you grow up, and to me, you’re more important than my own daughter.” At that moment, I actually felt a little bad for Riley. “Margaret, maybe you should start paying more attention to Riley,” I said with a smile. “It might save you some trouble in the future.” With that, I left the dining room, ignoring Margaret’s puzzled expression.

My ears were practically blistered from Wesley’s complaints about Riley Harper. Even though I knew Riley had always found excuses to be around him, things had definitely escalated recently. “Natalie, she’s straight-up stealing my laundry to wash it, lingering outside my study after her late-night showers, and hanging around my classroom at school. I let that slide. “But now she’s acting like some kind of doting grandma—always giving me food and staring at me with these unsettling, ‘loving’ eyes. I can’t take it! What is she up to, Nat?” For the millionth time, Wesley poured out his frustrations. I couldn’t take it anymore either. I promised him that the next time I saw Riley, I’d talk to her. My dad, ever the charitable boss, had enrolled Riley in Fairfield Academy—my high school—as a part of his “employee benefits” program. To top it off, he even put her in my class, saying it would help us “look out for each other.” But in reality, I hadn’t seen Riley in days. It felt like she was actively avoiding me. Whenever I was somewhere, she made sure to be anywhere else. Even at school, running into her felt like a game of chance. Today, though, luck was on my side. The moment I stepped into class, there she was—decked out in designer clothes, surrounded by a curious crowd. “Riley, your outfit! And that bag—those must’ve cost a fortune!” “Oh, not really,” Riley replied with a coy smile. “I just saw them while shopping and figured, why not?” “Wow, I always thought you were, like, from a regular family like the rest of us. Turns out you’re some heiress or something?” Riley gave a humble laugh. “What’s an heiress, really? What’s meant to be mine will always be mine. Unlike some people who force their way in and pretend—only to end up empty-handed.” She cast a pointed glance my way. One of my friends leaned closer to me, whispering, “Isn’t Riley your nanny’s kid? Do the Channings pay their staff that well? Or did her mom win the lottery? She looks like some tacky nouveau riche.” “What’s she trying to say? Switched at birth? Her real parents are loaded?” “Natalie, she’s obviously implying you. What’s her deal?” I didn’t know what to say. More importantly, I had no idea where Riley was getting all this money. Only a handful of classmates who’d visited my house knew Riley was the daughter of our live-in nanny. Everyone else had politely gone along with the assumption that she was just another student. Out of respect, no one ever brought up her actual situation. “She seems… a little delusional,” I finally said. That seemed like the most logical explanation. I walked over and called out to her. “Riley, can we talk outside for a moment?” Riley froze, clearly caught off guard. She’d been avoiding me for so long, she probably didn’t expect me to confront her outright. After all, in her “switched heiress” stories, the imposter usually cowered and avoided eye contact with the rightful heiress. The class erupted into hushed murmurs. “What’s Natalie talking to Riley about? They’ve never interacted before.” “Did you hear what Riley just said? Do you think Natalie and Riley were switched at birth?” “Could Riley actually be the real Channing heiress?” “Don’t be ridiculous. No one benefits from upsetting the Channing family.” “But Riley’s been awfully close to Natalie’s brother, hasn’t she? Would actual siblings act that way?” “Maybe Riley really was just brought home recently. Did you see her outfit? Looks like she’s trying way too hard.” Ignoring the chatter, I strode out of the classroom, and Riley—after adjusting her clothes and regaining her composure—followed. I turned to face her. “You know why I’m here, don’t you?” Riley’s expression shifted into one of smug satisfaction. “Since you already know you’ve taken my place, I suggest you come clean to your parents. If you’re lucky, I might even put in a good word for you. Maybe they’ll give you a decent severance package.” My brain momentarily short-circuited. “Riley, what nonsense are you talking about?” She sneered. “Don’t act clueless, Natalie. You’ve known all along that I’m the rightful Channing heiress. You’ve had eighteen years of my life—eighteen years I suffered through for you. Natalie, you owe me, and you’ll never be able to repay it.” “What proof do you have that you’re the Channing daughter?” I asked, my tone sharp. “Proof?” Riley smirked, confidence radiating off her. “Oh, I’ve got proof. When my parents get back from their trip, the truth will come out. And when it does? You’ll be on your knees, begging. But I’ll make sure you and your pathetic mother are kicked out anyway.” I was about to ask where she got the audacity when a sharp voice cut through the tension. “Riley Harper!” Margaret Harper stormed up to us, her face livid. SMACK. The sound of the slap echoed through the corridor.

The commotion drew the entire class out of the room. I stood frozen in shock, watching as Riley clutched her cheek, tears streaming silently down her face. Her lips trembled, but no words came out. Margaret’s face was flushed, her eyes blazing as she grabbed Riley by the hair. “You little ingrate! Did you steal my money? Did you take everything I had on that card?!” “That money was for your brother’s wedding!” Margaret’s voice broke with a sob. “Do you want to ruin this family? How could I have raised something as selfish as you?” The pieces clicked into place. Riley’s flashy new wardrobe? Her sudden spending spree? It all came from Margaret’s savings. I hurried forward to pull them apart. “Margaret, stop! This is a school.” Margaret, seeing the crowd of onlookers, dramatically collapsed onto the floor. “God, what did I do to deserve this? I worked my whole life to save that money, and she’s gone and squandered it all! How am I supposed to go on?” The whispers around us grew louder. “Wait, that’s Riley’s mom? She doesn’t look rich at all.” “Did you hear her? Riley stole her mom’s savings to act rich.” “She always seemed kind of vain, but this? Yikes.” “She only got into this school because someone sponsored her.” “Enough!” Riley’s furious glare landed on me. “This is your fault, Natalie! I’ve already suffered for your sake, and now you’ve got her humiliating me too? Just wait. I’ll make sure you regret this for the rest of your life.” She shoved past us and ran, tears still streaming down her face. “Hey! Watch your mouth when you’re speaking to Miss Natalie!” Margaret yelled after her. Then, as if nothing had happened, she turned to me. “Miss Natalie, are you alright? I’m so sorry about her behavior.” “Wait…” a classmate murmured. “Is she… Natalie’s real mom? She’s treating Natalie better than her own kid.” “No way. She’s the Channings’ nanny, right?” “Still, doesn’t this kind of favoritism make you wonder? Maybe Riley’s the real daughter.” “Or Margaret switched them on purpose.” Before I could react, a calm, familiar voice interrupted the chaos. “Margaret, maybe you should go check on your own daughter.” Everett Hughes stepped forward, his tall figure commanding attention. “Natalie,” he said, his tone softening, “class is starting.” “OMG, OMG, I’m shipping them so hard!” “Even if Natalie isn’t the real Channing heiress, who cares? She’s still going to be Mrs. Hughes. Talk about living the dream!” “Everett Hughes is just so perfect. Honestly, he and Natalie look amazing together.” Everett Hughes is my boyfriend, and that’s no secret. In fact, both of our families fully support us. With similar backgrounds, education, and looks, we’re practically the perfect match. Plus, a partnership between the Channing and Hughes enterprises is nothing short of a power move. Margaret awkwardly let go of me and hurried after Riley, leaving me to my thoughts. I didn’t care much for the gossip surrounding us, but after everything that had happened recently, I couldn’t help but wonder what Everett thought about it all. Back in the classroom, I turned to him. “Everett, if I weren’t the real Channing heiress, would you still like me?” He looked at me like I’d just said the funniest thing he’d ever heard and burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?” I was genuinely curious. “Given everything that’s been going on, there’s a real chance I’m not the Channing family’s biological daughter.” Everett reached over, gently ruffling my hair. His clear, steady gaze locked onto mine. “Whether or not you’re the Channing heiress doesn’t matter to me. What matters is that you’re Natalie. As long as you’re you, that’s enough for me.” That afternoon, Riley Harper returned to school. But instead of toning things down, she showed up in an even more luxurious outfit than before. Her transformation left everyone scratching their heads. She walked straight toward me—no, not me. She stopped in front of Everett. “Everett,” Riley said, her voice laced with a mix of nerves and newfound boldness. “I’m sure you’ve realized it by now—I’m the real Channing heiress.” The classroom collectively gasped, stunned that she would just blurt it out.

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Yo, so get this – I was like three months preggo and totally craving some bomb wonton soup. I got so hyped, I jumped into the kitchen and whipped up this killer broth from scratch. After hours of simmering and stuffing those lil’ dumplings, I was ready to feast. I called my man Noah over, but when I came back, the bowls were gone! That jerk had sent them over to our new neighbor Emma’s place without even asking. Apparently, she’s a single mom struggling to get by, so my knight-in-shining-armor hubby took it upon himself to ‘help out.’ Now, I get being a good neighbor and all, but this chick had Noah running errands for her like a personal handyman. Changing lightbulbs, lugging rice bags – you name it, he was on it. His go-to line became, “Single moms have it rough, babe.” At first, I played it cool, but giving away my homemade pregnancy cravings? That was the last straw. When I called him out, dude just shrugged it off like it was no big deal. The audacity to tell me to ask Emma for “dumpling folding tips” after I slaved away cooking? Oh hell naw. I was so heated, I just packed my bags and crashed at my old place for a bit. Noah didn’t even seem to notice I bounced until way later when his growling stomach finally clued him in. Dude had the nerve to whine about being hungry after pulling that stunt! Things got real when I found a video from the local preschool’s family sports day. There was my man, bonding with Emma and her kid like one big happy fam while I sat at my checkup alone. Turned out his “overtime” excuse was just a flat-out lie. I started questioning if Noah was even cut out for fatherhood. If some rando single mom could make him ditch me and our unborn kid, who’s to say he wouldn’t keep bailing for the next one who batted her lashes? When I finally confronted him about the video, Emma pulled the classic crocodile tears, blabbering about how she’d “never wreck our family.” Her little brat was even shooting me stank eyes like I was the homewrecker! The sheer audacity of it all made me want to hurl. I laid it all out – if Noah was still a man of his word, we needed to go our separate ways so he could play house with his new fam. Dude tried damage control, saying I was overreacting and that he was just “helping out” since the kid didn’t have a dad around. Like, sorry my inability to push a kid out makes me incapable of basic empathy? I didn’t sign up to be a co-parent for every sad sack kiddo in town. Noah couldn’t understand why I was being “so cold and unsympathetic.” Um, hello? I’m the pregnant one getting left in the dust here! We went round and round until he finally admitted he couldn’t stand to see Emma’s son “go through the same hardship” he did without a dad. Look, I feel for the guy’s rough upbringing, but that’s no excuse to lie and ditch your own family. If he wants to go play daddy for Emma’s kid, that’s his choice – but it won’t be with me in the picture. I headed back to my little downtown apartment, totally drained from the emotional rollercoaster. Maybe it was the stress, but that night my stomach felt queasy. I’m pretty health-conscious, so I swung by the clinic for a checkup. The doc said the pregnancy wasn’t looking too stable and advised me to take it easy – no heavy lifting or I could miscarry. I went home and lay awake, mulling over the past, present and future. I had a decent job, savings, wheels – all the basics to live comfortably, even solo. Why put up with this crap? Especially over a loser like Noah Williams. After some soul-searching, I decided to terminate the pregnancy the next morning. The fetus was only a few months along, so it was a straightforward procedure, but still tough – it was my flesh and blood, you know? I just didn’t feel ready to be a single mom. The abortion knocked me around, so I crashed at my place while getting the divorce papers drafted up. With no kids involved, it was a pretty clean split – one car each, and we’d go fifty-fifty on the home we bought as newlyweds. I couriered Noah’s copy, but he flipped out, probably thinking I was bluffing about pulling the plug on our marriage. He demanded to meet up, but I shut that down – just sign the damn papers, bro. Noah didn’t know my unit number, and that complex has strict privacy policies, so staff weren’t letting any randos snoop around. There was no point meeting anyway since divorce was a done deal. A few days later, Noah’s mom calls me frantic – some sketchbag was posted up at our place! Instantly, I knew it was Emma Johnson, that little homewrecker he couldn’t keep his hands off. I felt disgusted hearing it, but not shocked – those two were gonna hook up eventually. Still, the disrespect of moving her in before we were even legally divorced? Low blow. I didn’t respond at first, but Noah’s mom kept pushing, realizing something was up. “Is Noah running around on you? Bringing other women over?” We hadn’t told our families about separating yet. I didn’t want to worry my parents, and Noah was the same – his mom has a wicked temper and health issues, so he didn’t want to drop that bomb on her. But now the poor woman stumbled into this mess. Emma tried playing it cool, all “It’s just a big misunderstanding, Auntie! Noah’s such a sweetheart for helping me out. With sis-in-law gone, he needed an extra hand around the house sometimes.” Noah’s mom was having none of it. “My son’s a grown man! If he can’t look after himself, I failed as a mother!” She kicked Emma out, then I broke down and explained everything – the affair, the decision to divorce, even my abortion. Noah’s mom erupted, slapping him hard across the face. “Neglecting your own wife and child to play daddy to some other kid? Have you lost your damn mind?”

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