Category: English

A flash flood struck suddenly. My wife, Saylor, spent a fortune to have her first love rescued, leaving me alone in the car to await death hopelessly. After I managed to escape death, Saylor tearfully told me she felt indebted to me, but then turned around and held a wedding ceremony with her first love. On the day they were happily conducting their wedding ceremony, I invited Charlie’s wife, who had been dead for three years, to the scene. … As the nurse was changing my bandages, a news report on the TV caught my attention. The headline read: “Woman spends entire fortune searching for husband for days, couple now happily reunited.” Below, netizens were praising the depth of their marital love. They even hailed her as “America’s Best Wife.” The young nurse beside me looked envious: “Her husband is so lucky to have such a good wife.” “I heard she spent over a million dollars just to hire a private rescue team. They’re even staying in the VIP ward of our hospital now.” Listening to the nurse’s words, I curled my lips in self-mockery. She was indeed a good wife, good enough to spare no expense to rescue Charlie when the flash flood hit. Leaving me alone trapped in the car, waiting to die. Just then, my phone rang. It was a call from Saylor. After I answered, her anxious voice came through, “Ezra, didn’t I tell you to wait for me where you were? Where are you now?” I remained silent. She explained nervously: “The situation was urgent at the time, and there was limited space on the rescue boat. I could only get Charlie out first. I went back to look for you later.” I was too tired to listen anymore and interrupted her directly: “If that’s the case, you should stay with Charlie. Let’s get a divorce.” With that, I hung up the phone. But the next second, my phone rang again. I knew it was Saylor. I didn’t answer and put the phone on silent. She kept sending me messages: “I didn’t mean to leave you behind, please don’t be angry, okay?” “Where are you? I’ll come find you right now.” After some thought, I still sent her my hospital room number. Saylor replied instantly, “Wait for me for half an hour, I’m coming to see you right away.” But I waited until dark and still didn’t see her. Instead, I saw Charlie’s new Instagram post: “So blessed to have someone by my side 24/7.” The photo showed Saylor bending over to make his bed. I immediately deleted Charlie and blocked Saylor along with him. After turning off my phone, I covered myself with the blanket and fell into a deep sleep. The next day, the caregiver I hired was pushing me to get a check-up. Unexpectedly, we ran into Saylor pushing a wheelchair in the hallway. She was crouching down, gently covering Charlie’s legs with a blanket. When their eyes met, they looked so affectionate, like the perfect loving couple in others’ eyes. Even the caregiver behind me couldn’t help but sigh: “Isn’t that the national wife from the news? They really do look so in love.” Saylor heard the praise and looked up with a smile. But when her eyes met mine, her expression froze in place. “Ezra, why are you here?”

I tugged at the corner of my mouth, unable to hold back my sarcasm. “Why am I here? Don’t you know?” She frowned, looking at me with displeasure, “I had something come up yesterday and couldn’t come see you. Do you have to be so sarcastic?” “I’ve been worried sick about your safety. I see you’re fine and even have the energy to fight with me.” Listening to her complaints, I felt sick to my stomach. Not wanting to argue further, I urged the caregiver to push me away. Unexpectedly, several medical staff rushed out of the elevator behind us, pushing a rescue cart. “Make way!” the lead doctor shouted in our direction. Seeing the rescue cart about to crash into us, Saylor instinctively pushed Charlie’s wheelchair away. With a bang, I was hit hard and fell to the ground awkwardly. A sharp pain from my wound tearing open made me inhale sharply, furrowing my brow. Seeing this, Saylor ran over to help me up, her tone tinged with impatience. “If you’re injured, don’t run around. Just stay in your room and rest properly.” “I’ll take Charlie for his check-up first, then come see you later.” I forcefully pushed her hand away, saying coldly: “No need.” “Ezra, that’s enough. You got hurt running around on your own, why are you taking it out on others?” Saylor complained unhappily, simply standing up. She left me sitting on the ground and walked away without looking back, pushing Charlie. In the end, it was the caregiver who carefully helped me up and took me back to my room. I thought Saylor saying she’d see me later was just giving herself an out. I didn’t expect her to actually come. She was carrying several takeout boxes with cold food inside, her tone full of concern. “You’ve always been picky about food. I figured the hospital meals wouldn’t suit your taste.” “I specially ordered this dinner from a five-star restaurant. Come try it quick.” I glanced at the takeout bag where the delivery slip hadn’t been removed. The address column showed Charlie’s room number. The note even said flirtatiously: [Wishing the invincible handsome Charlie a speedy recovery!] So, she was trying to please me with the leftovers Charlie didn’t eat? Fighting the nausea in my stomach, I brought up divorce again. Saylor paused briefly, then sneered: “Ezra, when will you be done with this? You’re not young anymore, always talking about divorce. Don’t forget, you were the one who begged me to marry you.” With that, she stormed out. Hearing the door slam shut, I remained unmoved. Back then, I truly loved Saylor. To pursue her, I gave up a high-paying job and moved to her city. To make her happy, I learned to cook well. After she agreed to marry me, I silently vowed to treat her well for life. But what about her? To take care of her deceased best friend’s husband, she abandoned me again and again, trampling on my true feelings. This time, I won’t forgive her, nor will I look back. I contacted a lawyer to draft divorce papers. Then I opened our joint bank account, intending to transfer out my father’s death benefits. But I found that all the money in the account had been withdrawn. My heart sank as I recalled the news saying Saylor had spent millions to rescue Charlie. So, she used this money?

With trembling hands, I called Saylor. But the line was always busy. I guess she had blocked me. So I didn’t bother with my injuries and went straight to Charlie’s hospital room. Through the glass window, I saw Saylor sitting by Charlie’s bedside. She was tenderly peeling an apple, then feeding the cut pieces to Charlie. This gentle, soft-spoken image reminded me of when I was hospitalized before. Saylor said she had never taken care of anyone and wouldn’t even help wipe my face with a towel, instead scolding me for not being considerate of her. Lost in thought, Charlie noticed me standing at the door. “Are you here to see Saylor?” “I’m so sorry, Saylor is only here because she feels bad for me being all alone. You’re not angry, are you?” I ignored the provocation in Charlie’s eyes and walked in with a cold face, asking Saylor directly: “You withdrew the $3 million from our account. Why didn’t you tell me?” Saylor paused, turning her head in displeasure, speaking as if it was perfectly reasonable. “It was a matter of life and death. There was no time to discuss it.” “That money was just sitting there anyway. Might as well use it for something meaningful!” I laughed bitterly, my eyes gradually reddening. Six months ago, Saylor was caught in a mall fire. Because the fire was too intense, firefighters couldn’t enter. It was my dad who disregarded his own safety and carried the unconscious Saylor out of the fire. He himself died from his severe injuries. On his deathbed, he was still concerned about Saylor’s condition. This money was the government’s special compensation to honor him as a retired firefighter who died saving others. At the time, Saylor cried in my arms, saying she would definitely use this money to buy a high-end cemetery plot for my dad to rest in peace. Now, how could she have the nerve to say such things? Seeing her casually wetting a towel, preparing to wipe Charlie’s face, I felt like I had been blind. Just as I was about to leave, she called out to me again. “The day after tomorrow is your dad’s death anniversary. I won’t be going. I’m planning to hold a wedding ceremony with Charlie that day.” I turned back to look at her in surprise, my voice filled with disbelief. “What did you say?” Nominally, we weren’t divorced yet, but she was going to openly hold a wedding? And on my dad’s death anniversary no less! Saylor didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with it. She glanced at me impatiently and continued: “Charlie has always wanted to have his own wedding ceremony. But as you know, when he and Rachel got their marriage license, Rachel passed away before they could hold the ceremony.” “So now, I want to help him fulfill this wish in Rachel’s place.” I stared at Saylor for a long while before nodding: “Do whatever you want!” Seeing me agree so readily, Saylor’s eyes lit up with joy. She came over to hold my arm. “Ezra, I knew you’d understand me best.” “Don’t worry, this is just a fake wedding ceremony, going through the motions. You’ll always be the one I love most!” I stepped back to avoid her outstretched hand, leaving the hospital room without looking back. The next day, I completed the discharge procedures, preparing to go to the cemetery to pay respects to my parents. But just as I got into a taxi, I received a phone call. “Is this Ezra? This is Rachel, Saylor’s best friend. Do you remember me?” I held the phone in a daze, my mind going blank. Rachel, who was declared dead three years ago? She’s still alive?

She didn’t notice my shock and continued urgently: “I can’t reach Charlie or Saylor’s phones. Luckily I was able to contact you…” That’s when I learned that Rachel had fallen off a cliff back then but was rescued by kind strangers and sent to a local hospital. She had been in a coma for three whole years, nearly going into cardiac arrest several times. Now, after great difficulty finding her way back, she discovered Charlie had moved and his phone number was disconnected. I really didn’t know how to explain the situation to her, so I could only verbally agree to help her contact Charlie. After hanging up, I still couldn’t believe it. It took me a while to open WeChat, intending to message Saylor and tell her about Rachel’s return. But I received an alert from the pet monitoring app. I opened the live feed from the camera in my house. I saw my ragdoll cat hanging by a rope in the middle of the living room, its limbs twitching and struggling. Charlie stood in the center of the living room, clutching his arm with a pitiful expression. He seemed to notice the camera lens turning slightly and deliberately said: “Saylor, I think it’s dead. What should we do? Won’t Ezra be mad at you when he gets back?” Saylor was carefully bandaging his arm in front of him, not even looking up. “As long as you’re okay. This ungrateful beast might as well die early.” My hand holding the phone trembled. I quickly told the driver to turn back home, hoping I could still save it in time. But I was still a step too late. Little Love’s cold body lay on the floor. Its once neatly groomed white fur was now disheveled, splattered with blood. Even its hind legs were bent backwards unnaturally. I reached out with trembling hands, not daring to imagine what kind of torture Little Love had endured on my way back. Just then, Saylor’s indifferent voice came from behind. “I know you loved Little Love, but it bit someone. Even if it hadn’t died, I would have sent it away.” I turned around with red eyes to see her walking out of the next room wearing a pure white wedding dress. Seeing I didn’t speak, she came over to comfort me. “If you really want to keep a cat, I’ll go with you to buy another one another day.” I just shook my head, “No need.” With that, I carried Little Love’s body outside and buried it in the garden. Just as I finished, I received a text from Saylor. “Wedding ceremony tomorrow, remember to be on time.” After a long while, I emotionlessly replied “Okay.” When I arrived at the Starlight Hotel, the wedding was already underway. Seeing me appear, Saylor’s friends started teasing. “Ezra is here too! As the witness, you have to say a few words!” I knew they wanted to see me make a fool of myself. I didn’t refuse. Looking up at the sweet-faced couple on stage, I calmly walked up. Under everyone’s gaze, I curled my lips slightly. “As Saylor’s husband, when I learned she wanted to fulfill Charlie’s wish of holding a wedding ceremony, I was very touched.” “So today, I’ve also specially prepared a surprise for them.” As I finished speaking, Charlie looked at me smugly. While the smile on Saylor’s face grew even brighter. I took a deep breath and said loudly: “Next, let’s welcome Charlie’s wife, Rachel, to the stage!”

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Two speedboats collided, and I was left half-conscious, drowning in the open water. I was rushed to Riverside Memorial Hospital, where my wife, Serena Caldwell, worked. Instead of saving me, Serena chose to focus her efforts on operating on her high school ex-boyfriend, who suffered a broken leg in a car accident. She signed the Cremation Authorization Form, effectively sealing my fate. While I was being transported to Westbridge Funeral Home, she led her ex-boyfriend into the very emergency room meant for me. Content Chapter “Dr. Caldwell! This patient was in a boating accident near the coast. He can’t swim and was already unconscious when rescued. He needs immediate medical attention!” Through the fog of my fading consciousness, I felt someone pry open my eyelids. Seconds later, I recognized the cold, clinical voice of my wife, Serena Caldwell. “He’s brain dead. His body is deteriorating rapidly. There’s no point in continuing resuscitation.” “All of you, assist outside. A multi-car pileup just brought in a wave of trauma patients.” Brain dead? Deteriorating? I could still hear them. I was conscious! Recognizing the familiar scent of her perfume, I summoned every ounce of strength I had and curled my finger around the fabric of her scrubs. Serena, save me! She immediately grabbed my hand, her touch momentarily giving me hope. But then, she shoved my hand back onto the bed. She knows I’m conscious! Before I could rejoice, her heels clicked as she stepped away. I heard her instruct the team: “Prepare the OR. I’ll operate on Nathan Cross, the pileup victim with the fractured femur.” Her words sent a chill through me. Nathan Cross—her high school sweetheart. They’d dated in the past, breaking up before college but staying “just friends.” I had trusted Serena when she said she loved me, that she wanted to build a life together. But now, she had just declared me brain dead—so she could save Nathan instead. “Dr. Caldwell,” someone interjected, “According to protocol, we’re required to attempt resuscitation on all emergency arrivals. We also need consent from the patient’s family before discontinuing care. If his family challenges this later, the hospital could face serious consequences—” “Bring me the forms,” Serena cut him off. “I’m his wife. I am his family.” As I heard the swift scratching of pen on paper, alarms from a nearby monitor blared. Minutes later, I heard Serena’s detached voice. “Patient Ethan Clarke. Time of death: September 17, 2024, 1:54 PM. Jamie, draft the death certificate immediately.” “Yes, Dr. Caldwell.” It was absurd. I was alive! How could she declare me dead? Something was wrong. The faint movement I had managed earlier was now gone—I couldn’t move at all. What did Serena do to me? “Hello, Westbridge Funeral Home? My husband just passed. I’d like to arrange a cremation. The death certificate? Yes, I have it…” Her next words shattered my soul. Not only did she abandon me—she wanted to cremate me. When the death certificate arrived, Serena turned to someone nearby. “Give me two minutes to say goodbye to my husband.” I heard footsteps recede. Then Serena leaned close, her breath brushing my ear. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I can’t let Nathan lose his chance to walk again… I’m sorry…” Her voice faded as I slipped further into the abyss. Faintly, I felt hands lifting my body and placing me into a vehicle. “This guy isn’t stiff yet. We’ll keep him in cold storage until the wife finalizes the paperwork.” “Man, he looks young. What a waste.” Their conversation was the last thing I heard before I blacked out. Chapter

When I regained consciousness, I was freezing. The cold seeped into my bones as if I were lying in the snow, with icy winds cutting through me. My shallow breaths echoed faintly in what I now realized was a small, dark space. The air felt stale, and my own breathing was nearly imperceptible. They’d put me in a cold storage unit—a precursor to the cremation chamber. No one knew I was alive. I was trapped in an endless cycle of despair: either freeze to death here or get incinerated while still conscious. I hated Serena Caldwell. I hated her for abandoning me when she could have saved me. Why? Why would she choose him over me? I heard voices approaching, breaking the oppressive silence. The sound of a cabinet door creaking open startled me, followed by the sensation of being lifted. They moved me onto a gurney. “She’s that big-shot surgeon at Riverside, right? So busy her husband dies, and she doesn’t even show up?” “Yeah, someone sent over the death certificate. Time to prep for cremation.” Their casual conversation chilled me further. “Hold on!” A new voice interrupted. Moments later, I felt my gurney shift to the side as more people crowded into the elevator. As the elevator ascended, something brushed against my hand—fabric, different from my clothing. Someone was standing close to me. This was my last chance to signal that I was alive. I summoned every ounce of focus and willed my fingers to curl. Slowly, painstakingly, I managed to clutch the fabric. Ding. The elevator doors opened. “Holy crap! He’s grabbing my clothes!” “Look at his hand, man! He’s not dead!” Desperate, I tugged again, mustering whatever strength I had left. “He’s alive! Call emergency now!” The commotion faded as darkness engulfed me once more. When I woke up again, I was in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines and tubes. Voices echoed from the room’s entrance. “…The patient didn’t show fixed pupils—how did she sign a death certificate?” “Standard protocol requires resuscitation for drowning cases unless the heart completely stops. No one even tried chest compressions!” “A patient declared dead by Riverside somehow revives at Westbridge. What’s going on here?” The voice I recognized as Dr. Logan Mitchell cut in. “This was Dr. Caldwell’s husband. She personally declared him brain dead and signed the DNR form.” “Where is Dr. Caldwell?” someone demanded. “She’s performing surgery on a car accident victim… hasn’t come out yet.” Hearing this, my chest tightened, and tears pricked my eyes. Serena had been inches from me and still chose to save Nathan over me. The tension overwhelmed me. I gasped, unable to breathe. Machines blared with alarms. My vision blurred as the door swung open. Chapter

“The patient has developed cerebral edema. The swelling is compressing his nerves and affecting his breathing—we need to operate immediately!” “Get Dr. Caldwell in here for the neurosurgery. I’ll handle her external surgical cases,” said Dr. Logan Mitchell, urgency clear in his voice. A nurse sprinted out of the room to fetch Serena. Minutes later, hurried footsteps returned. “Dr. Mitchell, Dr. Caldwell said her husband is beyond saving. She insists on staying with her current patient because, in her words, she has to prioritize the living. She also said…” the nurse trailed off, hesitating. “Spit it out!” “She said if you insist on operating on her husband, you’re free to do so. She’s already signed the consent to discontinue care. And… she won’t hold it against you if your skills aren’t up to par.” Even though I already knew, deep down, that Serena valued Nathan Cross more than me, hearing her indifference from someone else stung. Serena was a top neurosurgeon. If she chose to perform my operation herself, my chances of survival—and avoiding severe complications—would significantly improve. But she wouldn’t. Maybe that’s the difference between love and indifference. All I could do now was hope I would survive this… “Prep the OR. I’ll do the surgery myself,” Dr. Mitchell declared firmly. I was wheeled into the operating room shortly after. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I heard the faint sound of a scalpel slicing through my scalp, followed by the rhythmic beeping of monitors and the frantic voices of the surgical team. The longer the operation went on, the colder I felt, like a fragile paper boat struggling against the stormy waves of a vast ocean. My body grew heavier with each passing moment. “Contact the blood bank! We need more units—stat!” “Cardiac arrest! Get the crash cart over here!” Amid the chaos, a voice cut through the noise, steady and resolute. “Stay with us. Don’t give up…” Those words were like an anchor, tethering my fading consciousness. I can’t die. I won’t die. I have to live! How long I fought, I couldn’t say. Eventually, my awareness dissolved into darkness. As I succumbed to the void, a single thought crossed my mind: Would I ever open my eyes to the world again? I hoped so. When I finally woke up, three days had passed. Like before, I couldn’t move or open my eyes, but I could hear the faint beeping of monitors and the hum of medical equipment. I was alive. The realization sent a surge of emotion through me. I had made it through another trial. The sound of a cart being wheeled into the room interrupted my thoughts. Two nurses came in, performing their routine checks and adjusting my IV. One of them tugged the blanket over me and sighed. “Dr. Caldwell’s husband still hasn’t woken up. If she hadn’t misjudged him, he wouldn’t be in this condition. Poor guy…” “He’s lucky to be alive at all,” the other nurse replied. “You know who really got the short end of the stick? Dr. Mitchell. He saved this man and still got suspended because of her complaint. Who knows what else might happen to him?” “I heard reporters are coming in to cover the car pileup and the boating accident. Dr. Mitchell’s suspension means all the attention will go to Dr. Caldwell—” “Shh! Someone’s here.” The nurses fell silent as the door swung open. “Dr. Caldwell!” “I’m just here to check on my husband. Is there anything you need my help with?” Serena’s voice was cool and composed. “N-no, not at all. We’ll check on the other patients,” one nurse stammered before both scurried out. Serena approached my bed. I had no idea what she planned to do, but her presence filled me with dread. Leaning over, she pried open one of my eyelids, then chuckled softly. I felt a wave of unease as she stepped back and pulled out her phone. “Hi, sweetheart. Ethan had the surgery, but his luck ran out—he’s a vegetable now.” Her voice was light, almost amused. “No, don’t worry. I don’t have to get my hands dirty. We’ll still get all of his money. Once everything’s settled, we can finally take that trip abroad…” Her sweet, almost tender tone didn’t match the venomous words she spoke. Serena whispered into the phone as she left the room, her heels clicking against the tile floor. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. She called someone else “sweetheart.” She was plotting my death. She wanted my money?! Chapter

Clang— The door to my hospital room closed, and Serena Caldwell’s footsteps echoed down the hallway until they disappeared entirely. My mind was a whirlwind of disbelief. I couldn’t reconcile the sweet, caring woman I’d married with the person I had just overheard. We’d met two years ago through mutual friends, bonded over our shared love of hiking, and quickly married. Though she had always been a bit distant due to her workaholic nature, she’d shown me moments of tenderness that I cherished. She’d cook me dinner whenever I returned from a business trip and bring me coffee late at night when I was buried in work, urging me to take better care of myself. I still vividly remember the moment I decided I wanted to marry her—just three months into our relationship. But it wasn’t me who proposed. Serena surprised me by dropping to one knee with a ring. She said she felt sorry that I’d lost my parents in high school and spent so much of my life alone. She wanted to give me a home. Back then, her words filled me with warmth, her actions proof of her devotion. But now, lying helpless in this hospital bed, trapped in a body that refused to obey, the truth stared me in the face. She’d never loved me. It was all a scheme. Her kindness, her affection—they were calculated moves to get her hands on the hefty life insurance payout my parents had left me. The love I thought we had was a lie, a con. And I had fallen for it—completely. My heart burned with equal parts rage and despair. Worse yet, her phone call had made it clear she was done waiting. Serena was ready to take the final step to claim my money—my life. I was a vegetable, completely at her mercy. If she wanted me dead, she could easily finish the job right here in the hospital. I couldn’t fight back. I couldn’t run. I could only wait. Wait for a miracle to pull me out of this nightmare. Time passed, and slowly, I began to notice faint signs of improvement. A twitch of a finger here, a subtle jerk of my leg there. The first time a nurse saw me move, she rushed to fetch a doctor. But his verdict dashed any hope: “It’s just a nerve reflex. Nothing to indicate recovery.” But I knew better. I could feel it. The heavy weight trapping my body was lifting—little by little. One day, after the doctor finished his rounds, commotion erupted in the hallway outside my room. Moments later, a group of people filed into my room. Among them was a reporter with a cheerful, melodic voice. “Dr. Caldwell, I understand that in addition to the multi-car pileup, there was a boating accident in the city that day. The victim of that accident… was your husband, correct?” “Yes,” Serena replied, her voice tinged with the perfect amount of sorrow. “My husband runs an advertising agency. That day, his company was organizing a speedboat promotion event. Unfortunately, there was an accident…” Her voice broke slightly, as if she were holding back tears. “Although the emergency team worked tirelessly, he was underwater for too long. He survived but is now in a vegetative state.” “Dr. Caldwell, this must have been devastating for you,” the reporter continued. “And on the same day you were leading the rescue efforts for the car crash victims, no less. The pressure must have been overwhelming.” Serena cleared her throat and let out a dramatic sigh. “We’ve only been married for two years. I never imagined I’d see my husband like this. Of course, it’s been hard. I wish I could take his place…” Her words dripped with faux sincerity, and I felt sick listening to her performance. My body, sensing my boiling anger, responded with sudden, jerking movements. Beep. Beep. Beep. The machines hooked to me sounded their alarms, sending the reporter into a panic. “Dr. Caldwell! What’s happening to him?!” “Nurse, help me!” Serena shouted, rushing to press down on my thrashing body. The nurse quickly checked the monitors and gasped. “Dr. Caldwell, his heart rate is spiking, and his blood pressure is dropping fast!” “Prepare for emergency resuscitation!” Serena barked, pulling the privacy curtain to block the view of the reporters. She knelt on the bed beside me and began performing CPR. Each compression felt like a boulder crushing my chest. I couldn’t breathe and was on the verge of blacking out. “Patient has gone into cardiac arrest…” someone muttered as the equipment was disconnected from my body. I heard Serena’s voice break as she sobbed over me. “Ethan…” Tears streamed down her face as she called my name again, her cries echoing through the room. “Dr. Caldwell, we’re so sorry for your loss. He wouldn’t want you to dwell on this,” one of the reporters tried to console her. “Exactly. Sometimes death is the kinder fate,” another chimed in. Serena wiped her tears and sniffled. “My husband loved life deeply. He even signed a body donation agreement. I’ll honor his wishes by giving his life a new purpose.” The reporter burst into tears, overwhelmed by Serena’s supposed selflessness. “Dr. Caldwell, you and your husband are true heroes. I’ll make sure your story reaches everyone—people deserve to know about your sacrifice.” Their words only added fuel to the fire inside me. This vile woman wasn’t just plotting my death and taking my money—she was using me to make herself famous. But my rage couldn’t move my body. I was still trapped. Still helpless. Until, in my fury, I felt it—a fist. My fist. Clenched tight. I could move. A surge of adrenaline shot through me. Summoning every ounce of strength, I forced my eyes open and sat upright. Serena’s horrified expression was priceless.

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The sixth time my husband mixed the used cooking oil with my homemade lard, I lost my temper. My son disapproved, “Mom, why are you so emotionally unstable? Dad just mixed up the oils.” When he asked to go to school during his vacation for the umpteenth time, I told him he didn’t care about family. My son complained that I was unsympathetic, “Dad’s earning money for the family, he must have his reasons.” Later, my husband became a renowned author and was interviewed for a documentary. After filming all the footage, the director casually interviewed me and asked about my wishes. I thought for a moment and said, “I hope I could live my life over again.” After the interview, the director said goodbye. I sat in the rocking chair, feeling lost. After a while, I found the divorce agreement hidden in the bottom drawer and placed it in front of James Quinn. James fiddled with the wooden carving in his hand, not even looking up. “What’s this?” “Can’t you see I’m busy?” “I’m going to school later, and I won’t be back for dinner.” I instantly lost the desire to communicate with him. I put on my coat, ready to pick up our son one last time. After picking up the child, I should leave. The school gate was bustling with activity. I stood there for a long time but didn’t see my son. Anxiously, I took out my phone and called his homeroom teacher. “Ryan? I saw him leave school alone quite early. Didn’t you see him?” I thanked the teacher and started searching along the small path next to the school. He used to walk this path when he was upset. At the end of the path was our secret hideout. Seeing Ryan there, I breathed a sigh of relief, but tensed up again the next second. An unfamiliar voice came from the bushes beside him. “This place is really nice, Ryan. Thank you for bringing me here.” My son’s voice was cheerful: “I’m glad you like it, Aunt Sophia. Next time if my dad upsets you again, I’ll bring you here.” The sound of their playful laughter seemed fitting for the scene. I stood not far away, watching the two of them. The woman noticed me and was startled. “Oh, I thought it was someone else. It’s just you, Abigail.” “I’m sorry, Ryan saw I wasn’t in a good mood and brought me here.” “He was being all mysterious, and I didn’t have time to tell you.” “Ryan, you should have told your mom. You made her worry for nothing.” Ryan saw me too and frowned: “Why are you here? Are you following me?” I watched the two of them put on a show, and turned to leave. Ryan followed, his tone softening: “I guess I misspoke. Next time, don’t come here uninvited.” I looked back at him and said softly, “Alright.” Memories surfaced of his chubby face as a baby, looking so much like James. He once held a private birthday party for me here. Holding flowers bought with his pocket money, he stood on tiptoes to kiss my cheek and said: “Mom, I love you. Even if dad doesn’t love you anymore, I still love you.” “Dad must have forgotten because he’s busy, but don’t worry, Ryan will keep you company.” “From now on, when you’re unhappy, Ryan will bring you here. This is our secret hideout.” The path came to an end, and the fragrance of flowers in my memory faded past their prime, scattering in the wind.

I returned home, and James opened the door for me. “You’re back? Come eat, I made your favorite sweet and sour pork.” Didn’t he say he wouldn’t be home for dinner? “Where’s our son? Didn’t you go pick him up?” “He’s with Sophia, probably right behind me.” I hung my coat on the rack, catching a glimpse of the unnatural expression on his face. I asked him, “What’s wrong?” He rubbed his nose, “Nothing, hurry and wash your hands for dinner.” At this point, the only thing I couldn’t put down in this life was my fork. Why not eat when someone has prepared the meal? I could pack my bags after dinner. While washing my hands in the kitchen, I habitually glanced at the stove. It was like this again. He seemed to never understand what I said. Every time he fried something, he would pour the used oil back into my newly rendered lard. Every time he did it, I reminded him every time. When he poured the oil into my sealed lard for the sixth time, I finally lost my temper. “Can’t you understand what I’m saying? Or are you deliberately going against me?” “Why do you have to pour the used oil into my new lard?” I was shrieking like a shrew, while he rolled up his sleeves, calm and composed. “It’s just pouring oil, can’t you talk nicely?” Haven’t I talked nicely? Did you ever take it to heart when I spoke nicely? Before I could voice my thoughts, our son spoke up. “Mom, why are you so emotionally unstable? Dad just mixed up the oils.” That was the first time Ryan complained about me. I felt hurt but assumed he didn’t understand the whole situation. As time passed, I forgot about it. Later, I learned online that James did it on purpose. As long as he messed things up, he could avoid me asking him to do it next time. But he cooked less than five times a month. I don’t know what got into him today. We were about to divorce, yet he voluntarily started cooking. At the dinner table, the three of us were silent. I looked at the red sweet and sour pork on the table and suddenly lost my appetite. He clearly knew I didn’t like sweet and sour pork made with ketchup. Sweet and sour pork with ketchup was Sophia’s favorite. Just as I was about to put down my utensils, I saw James open his mouth, seeming hesitant. But he chose to break the silence: “Look, we’ve been married for so long, can’t we just stop this petty argument?” “My book just came out, if news of our divorce spreads now…” Our son, who had been eating with his head down, suddenly looked up and said to me: “Mom, did you lose your temper with dad again?” “Are you going through menopause?” “Dad finally made it as a writer, don’t cause trouble.” He then turned to his father: “Dad, didn’t you say you were going to see Aunt Sophia?” “Aunt Sophia was crying earlier. You know her ex-husband is always harassing her.” The usually gentle and refined James suddenly changed his expression: “I… I’m going out for a bit, I’ll be back soon.” “You two eat first.” The temperature had dropped sharply recently, but he rushed out without even taking his coat. He came back a few seconds later, and I thought he was getting his coat. Instead, he took a brown object from the room and was about to leave again. I called out to him, “Hey.” He didn’t even turn around, impatiently saying, “I’ll be back soon, don’t meddle…” “Take your coat.” James stopped in his tracks: “…Thanks.” He turned and took the coat, put his hands on my shoulders, trying to kiss me. I instinctively stepped back, and he paused for a moment before quickly saying: “Calm down, we’ll talk when I get back.” I watched his receding figure, growing smaller, like my heart contracting in pain. The last time I saw him this flustered was when I was hospitalized due to exhaustion.

I married James Quinn when we were young, and we’ve been married for over twenty years. We met on campus. He was a respected teacher, and I was the owner of the small campus store. After getting married and having a child, I transferred the store and focused on raising our son. After having the baby, my health wasn’t as good as before. To avoid affecting James’s work, I chose to sleep in separate rooms. I shared a room with our child. But taking care of a child meant fragmented sleep, making it harder to maintain good health. James’s salary was stable but not high. To support the family and give our child a good education, we needed more money. To lighten the family’s burden, I took on a lot of handicraft work. The embroidery needles pricked my fingers, and it hurt. But seeing Ryan eat his favorite dishes, I felt satisfied. However, as time went on, I still collapsed from exhaustion. When I opened my eyes in the hospital, James was there with an unshaven face. He held my hand, his eyes red. “I should have noticed earlier, why didn’t you say anything?” “You should have said when you were tired, people need to rest…” He said he had taken time off work for a few days to stay with me and our son. Looking at his concerned face, I thought while lying in the hospital bed. It was all worth it. After that, he stopped constantly rushing to school. Until a year ago. He said his book was going to be published, but the editor wanted him to make some revisions. He probably wouldn’t be home much during this time. I was overjoyed and nodded eagerly. I said happily, “Focus on your writing, I’ll take care of everything at home.” After all, if the book was published, the burden on our shoulders would be much lighter. It seems that from then on, things started to go off track. The book was successfully published, but he became arrogant. After publication, James still often went out, always with excuses. “The school is having an inspection in a few days.” “I haven’t finished grading papers.” But how could there be so much work to do? He was already considered a senior teacher, and Mr. Carter, who was also in administration, could leave work on time every day. I often met him on the way to pick up our child. I couldn’t help but complain about James: “Always neglecting the family, when will you have time to spend with our son?” But he exploded like quicklime touched by water. He shouted at me: “What do you know? I’m out there making a name for myself, you just need to take care of the home.” “I’m earning money to support the family, you’re enjoying life at home, and you still have all these damn demands!” I didn’t understand. He wasn’t a businessman, he had a stable salary, and his book was published. What was he so busy with? Of course, I questioned him, but the response came from our son playing with his toys. “Dad’s earning money for the family, he must have his reasons.” “You shouldn’t meddle so much.” The voice from my memory overlapped with reality. Suddenly, Ryan in front of me seemed like a stranger. The child I carried for ten months, gave birth to, and raised. How did he turn into such an ungrateful brat in the blink of an eye? Ryan ate a few more bites of food and put down his utensils: “You clean up, I’m going to check on Aunt Sophia.” I suddenly became curious: “What’s wrong with your Aunt Sophia?” He coldly responded while putting on his shoes: “How can you not know? Isn’t it because of you that she’s like this?” “She was still smiling this afternoon, saying I made you worry.” He probably didn’t want to stay with me for even a second and quickly left. I couldn’t understand, so I went to the bedroom to find the answers I needed.

After rummaging through drawers and cabinets, I finally found a yellowed diary at the bottom of the wardrobe. It was more of a manuscript than a diary. This should be the manuscript of James’s published book. Busy with housework, I hadn’t read his book yet. Opening the first page, the handwriting was immature, different from his current flowing cursive. It recorded his bitter unrequited love from his youth, word by word. Coincidentally, the protagonists were Sophia and him. “I like her, but I feel I’m not good enough for her.” “Later, my junior was assigned to the same school as me. I thought this must be fate.” “I gathered the courage to confess to her, but she rejected me.” Touching the words on the notebook, I was lost in thought. I also had an unspoken crush once. The protagonists were James and me. I first saw him when he came to buy a broken red pen for a student. He was handsome, wearing a white shirt, and slim. His demeanor exuded scholarly charm. Perhaps it was love at first sight. From then on, I was impressed by this elegant man. The next time I saw him, he brought a box of stray kittens. “A student picked them up. I thought your place would be the most suitable to keep them. What do you think?” “They might help you catch mice.” As he spoke, he smiled, his eyes bright and teeth white. As if bewitched, I nodded. With the stray kittens, we saw each other more often. Later, after school one day, the janitor accidentally locked me in the bathroom. At that time, society wasn’t as safe, and there were many cases of robbery and violent crimes in the city. There were even robberies near the school, making everyone nervous. James couldn’t find me and was sweating profusely with worry. He finally heard my cries for help from the most remote bathroom in the school. He ran to the security office to get the key. As soon as he opened the door, he hugged me tightly. “You scared me to death… Do you know how worried I was?” After that incident, we confirmed our relationship. The reason I know Sophia is that James introduced her to me personally. After I got together with James, he brought me to meet Sophia. “This is my junior from university.” He put his arm around my shoulder, then looked up at Sophia. “This is my girlfriend.” I still remember the proud look in James’s eyes. Now that I think about it, it was just a young man’s revenge after being rejected. But I took it seriously. I stayed by his side for over twenty years.

Looking at those words full of love, they seemed to turn into sharp thorns, almost piercing my mind. I stumbled all the way to follow Ryan, arriving at a restaurant. Through the transparent glass window, I saw my husband raising glasses and laughing with another woman amidst the crowd. James rarely brought me to his gatherings. He would say, “You’re just a businesswoman. Don’t meddle in our intellectual gatherings.” “What do you women know? You have long hair but short wisdom. I’m afraid you’ll say something inappropriate if I bring you.” I had given him the cold shoulder for this before, but later when our son’s tuition was due and the electricity bill needed to be paid, I was the first to lower my head and talk to him. Most of these arguments ended with me giving in first. Later, I wondered how I had let my life become so pathetic. Even my son stood by, laughing. They looked more like a family of three. I couldn’t stay rational anymore, my expression distorted with jealousy. I rushed into the restaurant and slapped James hard across the face. Not satisfied, I raised my other hand and slapped him again. The room fell into a deathly silence. Only the red marks on James’s face told the story. After everyone reacted, the room erupted in chaos. “You hit me?” James covered his face, incredulous. Some people condemned, some tried to break it up. “Hey, lady, who are you? How can you just come in and hit someone?” “Where did this shrew come from?” Lady? I looked at the person speaking. She was clearly in her early forties too. I saw my reflection in the window. In my forties, there were already silver strands in my hair. I was wearing a hoodie that Ryan had discarded. My hair was messy from running all the way here. Looking back at James. Although middle-aged, he hardly had any wrinkles. Time seemed particularly kind to him. He matched well with the charming Sophia beside him. Sophia stroked James’s face tenderly, defending him: “Abigail, if you have something to say, can’t you discuss it calmly? Why resort to violence?” I interrupted her: “Shut up! What right do you have to lecture me!” Sophia was startled by me and closed her mouth, not daring to speak anymore. She hid behind James, her eyes quickly turning red, looking pitiful. James saw this and felt sorry for her. He stepped forward, grabbing my collar and pulling me outside: “If you have any issues, take them out on me. Why are you yelling at her?” “Look at yourself now, you’re not fit for polite society!” I stood there stunned. His words seemed to kill me, dissect me, and lay me out in front of everyone. Look, this is the man I’ve loved for twenty years. I struggled to find my voice. “…Is this how you see me?” “No, I-” he tried to refute. I cut him off: “You never brought me to meet your friends. You think I’m embarrassing, uneducated.” “Now I know it’s not just because I’m a woman, but because you look down on me from the bottom of your heart!” “You didn’t think I was embarrassing when you used my money to network with publishing houses, did you?” “Now that you’re famous, you find me embarrassing, so you’re out here living it up with your junior?” He was so angry his eyes bulged: “She’s different!” “If you have any complaints, you can tell me in private.” “I’m a public figure now, have you considered my reputation at all?” I laughed coldly inside. He could be criticized, but not his precious junior. He was certainly protective of her. I suddenly lost all energy: “Sign the divorce papers as soon as possible. Don’t wait for me to file a lawsuit.” “It won’t look good for anyone if it comes to that.”

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A True Goodbye Leaves Without a Farewell Brief My girlfriend, Sienna Lawson, had been abroad for three months. On the day she returned, she walked out of the airport arm in arm with a man who looked strikingly similar to me. That man was none other than her ex-boyfriend, Garrett Cain. The tenderness she showed him was something I had never seen before. It was then I realized I had been a stand-in for five years. So, I chose to leave and disappear from her life. In the end, Sienna, unable to find me, lost her mind. Content Watching Sienna step off the plane with Garrett Cain, the bouquet and umbrella in my hands slipped to the ground without me even noticing. Cold raindrops pelted my face, but they were nothing compared to the icy chill in my heart. I had seen a picture of Garrett in a suit on Sienna’s phone once. He looked a lot like me—maybe a 70% resemblance. But I knew I wasn’t in the photo; I never wore suits. Sienna had explained back then that she’d Photoshopped my face onto the image. Even before I started dating her, I knew she had an ex who looked like me. But after we got together, I figured the past was the past. She was with me now. Seeing Garrett in person, though, everything clicked. I’d been a substitute for five years. Friends who knew Garrett used to tease me: “Ryan, your style—your clothes, hair—it’s starting to look a lot like Sienna’s ex-boyfriend Garrett’s.” I had laughed it off then, thinking they were joking. Looking back now at everything Sienna had done, the truth hit me. In our five years together, she had me cut my hair the way she liked, dress the way she wanted, and eat the foods she liked. But it wasn’t until today, when I saw Garrett with my haircut, wearing clothes like mine, and holding the very same soda crackers that Sienna always encouraged me to snack on, that it all made sense. Standing in the rain, I felt like the fool in a viral internet meme. I had loved her for five years. I had been Garrett’s stand-in for five years. No wonder she went on frequent “business trips” abroad, sometimes for weeks. This time, it was three whole months. Because Garrett had been abroad all this time. During those three months, Sienna barely contacted me. I always sent “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” and “Good night,” sharing every detail of my day. Her replies were always the same: “Yeah” or “Okay.” It was exhausting. I picked up the roses I’d dropped, looked at Sienna and Garrett laughing together, and let out a self-deprecating chuckle. They were a perfect match. I set the bouquet on a nearby public bench and drove home. Once home, I took a hot shower to prevent a cold from being drenched in the rain, then collapsed into bed. Predictably, I woke up the next day with a fever and pounding headache. After taking cold medicine and notifying my boss I’d take the day off, I planned to rest. That’s when Sienna came home. She walked in and looked at me, surprised. “Why didn’t you go to work?” I glanced at her. “I took a sick day.” She dropped her shopping bag on the couch, sat down, and demanded, “Why didn’t you pick me up yesterday? I told you to.” My head throbbed, and I didn’t want to argue. “I’ve been busy. Forgot.” She turned her head away in a huff, a familiar gesture to coax me into apologizing. In the past, I’d rush to make things right within hours. But now, I didn’t see the point. The fever and exhaustion made me want only to sleep. I left her sulking and went to lie down. Minutes later, furious, she barged into my room and threw the shopping bag onto the bed. “I thought about you the whole time I was away. I ought you all these clothes, and you treat me like this?” I glanced at the bag’s contents and let out a bitter laugh. Of course. They were precisely Garrett’s style.

Seeing that I didn’t even bother opening the bag, she snapped, “Fine! Ignore me, huh? Don’t talk to me anymore! The company just opened a branch in Riverside, and you’re going there. You won’t see me for six months!” I paused, then understood. Garrett was back, and she wanted me out of the way. It suited me perfectly. I had been thinking about leaving anyway. Now, she’d given me the excuse. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll pack and leave right now.” She looked at me, stunned, not expecting me to agree so readily. I had clung to him for five years, desperate to spend every moment together. Whenever she went on trips, I’d practically beg to stay on the phone all day just to hear her voice. To her, I couldn’t function without her. Dragging my feverish body, I started packing. The effort left me coughing violently, my head spinning. Sienna frowned and rushed to steady me. “Are you okay?” I pushed her hand away. “I’m fine. Just caught a little rain.” I continued packing as she stood there, conflicted. After a moment, she offered, “Why don’t you wait a few days? I’ll drive you. You’re not well.” I cut her off. “No need. It’s just a cold.” Grabbing my toiletries, I returned to find my suitcase ransacked. Sienna glared at me. “Why didn’t you pack the new clothes I bought? You’re just taking your old, ugly stuff?” I calmly reorganized the bag. “I’m used to my old clothes. They’re comfortable.” “I didn’t know you’d be home so early. There’s no breakfast. Order takeout yourself. I’m leaving.” I set the house and car keys on the coffee table, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out. I had arrived with nothing. I was leaving the same way. Downstairs, as I waited for a ride, Sienna ran after me, breathless. “I’ll drive you,” she said. “The bus will be uncomfortable, and I need to check on the branch anyway.” The trip wasn’t far—just over 200 kilometers. No flights were available, and she hadn’t booked a train ticket for me. I’d have to take a cramped bus, which wasn’t ideal given my fever. I was about to agree when a black sedan pulled up. A man wearing sunglasses stepped out.

It was Garrett Cain. He walked up to Sienna Lawson, flashing her a warm smile. “Sienna, I’m here to drive you to work.” Then his gaze shifted to me. “And you must be… Ryan Lander? You do look quite a bit like me. Sienna mentioned it before, and I didn’t believe her. Now I do.” Sienna looked at me, a flicker of panic in her expression. She started to explain, “Ryan, this is—” I cut her off with a cold smile. “No need for introductions. I know him—the first picture in your phone’s ‘favorites’ album.” Of course, I recognized him. I had been his stand-in for five years. Her album only had two photos: one of Garrett and another of her and Garrett. Garrett laughed. “Didn’t expect you to keep my pictures, Sienna. To be fair, I didn’t delete yours either. Sometimes, late at night, I still look at them.” Sienna shot him a warning glare, clearly uneasy with me standing there. Garrett shrugged, unfazed, the two bantering like a couple deeply in love. And me? I was the extra in their little reunion. Garrett suddenly said, “Oh, Sienna, that luncheon at the Regency Grand Hotel this afternoon. We need to get there early to prep. You didn’t forget, did you?” Sienna slapped her forehead, looking torn. “I almost did! But I need to drive Ryan to Riverside…” She hesitated for a moment before glancing at me apologetically. “Ryan, the luncheon is crucial. Maybe you could—” “Go ahead. I’ll get there myself,” I interrupted, not giving her a chance to finish. A luncheon, huh? It is just an excuse to throw Garrett a welcome-back party. I had left a high-level corporate job to help her with her fledgling company. I remember the night she took me out for fried skewers by the roadside, and I spent no more than $20. And now, Garrett returns, and she books the city’s most luxurious hotel for him. Even the cheapest dish there costs thousands. It wasn’t the roadside food I minded. It wasn’t even the glorious celebration. It was realizing that five years of genuine love had been for nothing. As a cab pulled up, I waved it down, got in, and left. From the rearview mirror, I saw Garrett hand Sienna a dress she took with a shy smile before getting into his car. She didn’t spare a glance at the cab I had taken. There wasn’t even a text on my phone. But I didn’t care anymore. Rolling down the window, I let the morning breeze wash over me as I took one last look at the city I had stayed in for Sienna. Goodbye. No—good riddance. I would never return. Not for Sienna. Not for this city. I felt no attachment to either. As the saying goes, when you love someone, it’s soul-crushing. But when you despise them, everything about them—including where they live—becomes unbearable. The fever had me feeling lightheaded and sick to my stomach. Taking a long bus ride in this condition would probably kill me, so I asked the cab driver to take me across state lines. He agreed, for a price. When we arrived, the driver woke me up. “Where to exactly?” he asked. Groggy and feverish, I shook my head. “I don’t have a place yet.” The older man, probably in his fifties, looked at me with a hint of pity. “That young lady I saw earlier—your girlfriend, right? How could she let you travel while you’re this sick?” I shook my head again. “She’s not.” He didn’t press further, pulling out his phone and making a call before driving me toward town. I drifted off again. When I woke up, I was lying on a bed.

Still groggy, I felt an overwhelming thirst. I sat up, and just then, the door opened. A woman with a ponytail walked in, carrying a glass of water. She handed it to me with a small smile. “You must be thirsty. Here, drink some warm water.” I dumbly accepted the glass and downed it in two gulps. “Uh… is there more?” She stifled a laugh. “Of course, silly. It’s water—we’re not running out anytime soon.” She left and quickly returned with another glass, followed by the cab driver. The driver said, “I don’t know where you plan to work, but if you need a place to stay, this house is available for rent.” He explained that it was his old home, where he had lived with his family before they moved. After his daughter had a car accident that left her with mild brain trauma and depression, she couldn’t handle the noise and stress of the big city. He brought her back here, to this quiet little neighborhood. The area was serene, with courtyard-style houses. It suited me perfectly. I owed the man for helping me, so I rented the house and paid him three years’ rent upfront. The property was split into two small units connected by a walkway. His daughter, Cassidy Grace, lived on the left side, while I took the right. Before leaving, he said, “Take care of my daughter, will you?” I joked, “Aren’t you afraid I might run off with her?” He chuckled. “Kid, anyone who cries in their sleep for two hours isn’t someone I’d peg as a bad person.” I froze. So that’s why he’d asked earlier if Sienna was my girlfriend. With all his years of experience, this man had seen right through me. He took care of me while he asked me to look after Cassidy. She bought me medicine, made me meals, boiled water, and even gave me rides to work on her little electric scooter. Thankfully, my workplace was only a few miles away. I felt genuinely cared for for the first time, not coerced into compliance. During this time, Sienna didn’t call or text. I didn’t reach out either. Without her, life was better. It felt like I’d reclaimed the sunny, confident version of myself I had lost five years ago. Cassidy and I played badminton video games and spent time outdoors. I felt healthier than I had been sitting at a desk for years. She was forgetful as a result of the accident. Sometimes, she’d drop me off at work, only to return an hour late, thinking it was already time to pick me up. Her recovery would take time, possibly a lifetime. I had a friend in the medical field who had made significant breakthroughs. Once I resigned, I planned to take Cassidy to him for treatment. That was the least I could do to repay her kindness. One evening, as I lay in bed scrolling on my phone, I saw a new Instagram post from Sienna. It was a picture of her and Garrett at a hotel—he in a suit, she in a white gown. The caption read: “Powerhouse Collaboration: Here’s to the company’s future!” Anyone would’ve assumed it was a wedding photo if not for the background. Someone commented, “Wow, Ryan looks amazing in a suit! Never seen him dressed up like that.” Sienna replied: “That’s not Ryan. He’s… another friend of mine.”

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My dad had an affair with a washed-up model. My mom was devastated, cried her heart out, and demanded a divorce. In court, the judge asked me, a ten-year-old, to decide who I wanted to live with. Under my mom’s hopeful gaze, I chose my cheating dad. I rightly explained that it was my mom’s fault for not being able to have a baby brother. I was a girl, detail-oriented and responsible, and I needed to help my dad care for my unborn brother. Mom covered her face and wept bitterly. It was hilarious—she was faking it. Because we both knew the good days for me and my mom were just beginning. Content 0 In court, the judge asked who I wanted to stay with. Everyone assumed I’d choose my mom—for the stable home, loving care, and everything else that made sense. Instead, I picked my dad, who was nervously shielding his mistress, Vanessa Thorn, and her pregnant belly. Dad was stunned but quickly shrugged it off. After all, I was just a girl—his daughter, not a son. To him, girls were destined to marry out of the family eventually. When the judge asked for my reasoning, I put on my most innocent expression and said: “Dad’s had it so rough. He just wants to be with Aunt Vanessa. What did he do wrong?” “Dad’s busy making money, and Aunt Vanessa’s having a baby. I need to help Dad take care of my baby brother.” “Mom’s always busy teaching other kids. She couldn’t even have a baby brother and wouldn’t let Dad have one with someone else. That’s mean!” Beside me, Mom covered her face, her shoulders shaking as she “cried uncontrollably.” Only I knew the truth: she was laughing so hard it hurt. Mom cried on cue. No, she was acting. We had planned it this way—I’d put on the show, and she’d bring the tears. 0

Then, out of nowhere, everything went dark. When I opened my eyes, I realized I had somehow gone back in time to the year of my parents’ divorce. At this moment, Mom still hadn’t discovered Dad’s affair with Vanessa. She hadn’t confronted him yet or demanded a messy divorce. Though it was the middle of the night, I wasn’t sleepy at all. Time was of the essence. By tomorrow, Mom would find evidence of Dad’s cheating on his phone and blow up. She’d lose control, and the whole nightmare would begin again. I bolted upright, dashed out of bed, and banged on the door to the main bedroom. This was my only chance to rewrite the past and prevent the tragedy from repeating itself. Mom groggily opened the door, squinting in confusion. “Fiona, what’s going on? Why aren’t you asleep?” Like a slippery eel, I slipped past her, locked the door, and dragged her to sit on the bed. “Mom,” I said, “you need to listen.” Then, I spilled everything I remembered about the future without holding back. Why? Apart from myself, the woman who loved me most was the woman who gave me life. I left out the part about my death, though. Instead, I rambled on about how to outsmart Dad and Vanessa. Mom’s eyes were already red and brimming with tears when I looked up. She must have sensed the words I didn’t say. She wrapped her arms tightly around me, pulling me into her warm embrace. Snuggling into her, I finally felt safe. “Mom,” I whispered, “Dad’s been secretly installing cameras around the house. He thinks you might cheat on him, even though he’s the one cheating.” “There are hidden cameras in the living room. Thankfully, he hasn’t gone insane enough to put them in the bedroom.” I wouldn’t dare share any of this with Mom here at home if he had. “Start gathering evidence quietly,” I told her. “Then file for divorce. When the time comes, I’ll choose Dad in court.” Mom’s eyes grew misty, and looked like she wanted to say something. I reached out and pressed my hand against her cheek. “Mom, trust me. I’ll make sure we have a good life. I promise.” 0

After the court hearing, I moved in with Dad at the Riverside Mansion in Savannah. I played the part of a dutiful little girl who cared deeply for Dad’s happiness. I didn’t question why a supposedly broke man could suddenly afford a luxury mansion. Instead, I cheerfully declared, “Wow! This house is amazing! Aunt Vanessa will be so much more comfortable having the baby here!” I immediately ran to Dad, making a big show of my commitment to taking care of the unborn baby. Maybe Dad still had a tiny shred of fatherly love for me because he transferred $5,000 to my bank account without hesitation, telling me to use it as I wished. Then he hurried off, claiming he had work to do. Of course, I knew better. I wasn’t an actual child anymore. I knew exactly where he was going—and so did Vanessa. As soon as Dad left, Vanessa’s sweet façade crumbled. “You shameless little brat!” she snapped. “You’re old enough to know better. Stop mooching off your father!” There was something in her eyes—something dark and desperate I couldn’t quite read. She dug her sharp nails into my forehead, snatched my phone, and transferred the $5,000 into her account. Then, in her shrill, affected tone, she declared herself my “stepmother” and warned me not to breathe a word of this to “dear Daddy.” “If you do,” she hissed, “you’ll regret it.” I blinked up at her, feigning submission. “I won’t tell him,” I whispered timidly. Inside, I was laughing. Oh, Vanessa, you think I’ll stay quiet just because you told me to? 03 The following day, I got up early and set the breakfast table. The food was already waiting when Dad finally came downstairs after his morning routine. He stopped short at the sight of three bowls of bland oatmeal and two plates of pickles set on the costly cherrywood table. His lips twitched, trying—and failing—not to grimace. I could almost hear his thoughts: How am I supposed to stomach this pathetic excuse for breakfast? But I stared at him with my big, hopeful eyes, like a kid desperate for approval. After a moment of hesitation, he picked up a spoon and took a symbolic bite. He spat it out dramatically one mouthful later, his face contorting in absolute horror. Internally, I was dying of laughter. This was no ordinary oatmeal. Oh no, this was cursed oatmeal, something I’d “enhanced” to ensure maximum misery. It took Dad a while to recover, and when he did, he glared at me. “Where on earth did you get this garbage?” he snapped. “You’re old enough to know better. Can’t even buy a decent breakfast!” Then his eyes landed on my school uniform—too short and visibly worn out. His scowl deepened. “I gave you money yesterday. Can’t you at least buy yourself clothes that fit? Walking around like that makes me look bad!” His rant woke Vanessa, who waddled lazily out of the bedroom, her pregnant belly leading the way. Leaning against the railing, she smirked, clearly enjoying the show. I bit my lip and let my expression crumble into pure heartbreak. Internally, I was screaming with joy. Perfect. Everyone’s here. Showtime! Tears streamed down my face like tiny pearls, and my voice trembled as I turned to Dad. “Daddy, please don’t blame Aunt Vanessa for taking my money.” I gasped and covered my mouth. “Oh no, I wasn’t supposed to say that! Aunt Vanessa, I’m so sorry! Please don’t kick me out!” Then the waterworks started. I sobbed and stammered apologies to both of them, making myself look like a pitiful little victim. It was Oscar-worthy. Seriously, where’s my trophy? Maybe my performance was too good, or maybe Dad was fed up with Vanessa’s overbearing attitude. Either way, he rounded on her furiously. “You’re not even my wife yet! If you can’t give me a son, you can pack your bags and leave!” To appease me, he handed me his secondary credit card. I took it with wide, cautious eyes, pretending to be nervous. “Thank you, Daddy,” I murmured, earning a dismissive, “Don’t act so cheap” from him. Sure, I got scolded, but who cared? My grin was practically impossible to suppress. I figured Vanessa might back off after that public dressing down. I was wrong. Vanessa’s energy levels were infinite. After all, she’d clawed her way to the top of the mistress hierarchy to secure her pregnancy. The next day, she crushed peanuts and mixed them into my breakfast, knowing I had a mild allergy. Coincidentally, that was also the day of my entrance exams for school placement. I guess she really couldn’t stand the idea of me succeeding. Smiling coldly, I “accidentally” spilled most of the oatmeal onto her massive belly. It was fall, so the porridge wasn’t scalding hot, but the sudden sensation still startled her. She yelped, and her bladder betrayed her—pregnancy hormones and all. Watching Dad walk off in disgust while Vanessa’s trembling fingers clenched her dress was a chef’s kiss. A week later, she paid some of my classmates to bully me. What she didn’t know? I was the class president—unanimously elected; thank you very much. I took the hush money she’d given them, used it to treat the entire class to a barbecue feast, and turned the would-be bullies into my loyal allies. Two weeks later, she staged a dramatic fall, trying to frame me for hurting her unborn baby. I raised an eyebrow, pointed at the three newly installed security cameras overhead, and asked, “Are you okay?” Her eyes widened, and she scrambled to her feet, pretending nothing had happened. After that fiasco, I walked away without a scratch, while Dad became even more reluctant to come home. Vanessa officially became the “main wife” at home, but Dad’s flings were still in full swing elsewhere. Meanwhile, I happily went to school every day, playing the role of the sweet, innocent daughter whenever Dad was around. I even convinced him to drive me to school a few times personally. Thanks to that, the entire school knew I had a rich CEO dad, and no one dared mess with me anymore. 0

After that, Vanessa Thorn seemed to have finally quieted down. She stayed home every day, dutifully resting and preparing for the baby. Meanwhile, I used every spare moment to hang out with Mom. We went shopping, grabbed lunch, and just wandered around town—on Dad’s dime. Naturally, Dad noticed the constant drain on his bank account and wasn’t thrilled about it. So, every time I went back to his house, I made a detour to the Whitestone Antique Market outside the city. I’d pick up the cheapest trinket I could find, have the seller wrap it up like a treasure, and take it home. Then I’d dramatically inflate the price and rave about how rare and valuable it was. Boom—instant profit. But I knew this tactic wouldn’t last forever, so I started plotting a new hustle. Before I could fully put my plans into motion, Vanessa went into labor. It was chaos getting her to St. Mary’s Medical Center, but eventually, she gave birth to a bouncing 7-pound baby boy. Dad was over the moon. He’d been waiting for this moment forever—since I was born. Now, he finally had his long-awaited son. Fresh out of recovery, Vanessa wasted no time asking Dad to take her to the Denver County Courthouse to make their marriage official. I sighed. Men like him weren’t just disloyal to one woman—they were disloyal to all women equally. To be fair, Vanessa had striking features. If she’d gone into Hollywood, she wouldn’t have been overlooked. But everyone has their priorities, and hers was to play the “trophy wife” instead of chasing her dreams. Having outmaneuvered all the other mistresses, Vanessa used her “mother of his son” card to climb the ranks and become Dad’s official wife. Once the papers were signed, her attitude changed. She started lording her new status over me, acting like a queen in her kingdom. She even dared to complain that I was disturbing her precious baby boy. I seized the opportunity and went to Dad, crying that I wasn’t welcome at home. Vanessa had just secured her golden position, so Dad granted her every wish. That meant I got the “short end of the stick”—a five-bedroom townhouse in an elite school district and a generous monthly allowance. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind more if this were what “suffering” looked like. 0

With that kind of money, the possibilities were endless. I started by visiting a nearby known university. I found a few fresh-faced college students there and paid them to post flyers advertising tutoring services. After interviewing the applicants, I hired nine tutors to work for me. Next, I scouted for clients at middle school entrance prep classes and nearby high schools. To reel parents in, I performed impressive “party tricks”: reciting the digits of pi, reciting poetry, and solving advanced math problems on the spot. And just like that, my tutoring business took off. Even before I officially moved into my school district townhouse, I’d secured all the necessary permits to run my tutoring center legally. No shady business here—I was a model citizen. The money started pouring in. I claimed I was paying my tutors high wages, but most of it went straight into my pocket. Then, I gave some of the earnings to Mom, who quietly used the funds to buy up small shares in Dad’s company, Skyward Entertainment Group. Dad might have been the largest shareholder, but he was too busy chasing skirts to notice the details of his business. When Mom’s shares added up to make her the second-largest shareholder, I was already in high school, and Vanessa’s son was three years old. Kids grow fast, and he was no exception. I only visited the Riverside Mansion during holidays; I stayed away the rest of the time, claiming I was focused on studying and planning to skip grades. Dad didn’t believe me initially, thinking I was just being stubborn. He tried to compensate me by sending me more money, which I accepted with a “heartbroken” expression. Little did he know the saying “a crooked bamboo can sprout fine shoots” applied to me. I got so caught up in my studies that I accidentally excelled during exams. My teacher, impressed, dragged me to the principal, who fast-tracked me ahead by two grade levels. It was a win, but I couldn’t pretend to be a child prodigy anymore. Dad was stunned and stopped pressuring me to return home. Instead, he gave me even more freedom, which, in hindsight, I should’ve taken advantage of earlier. One day, I looked at Vanessa’s son. His features were undeniably delicate, but none of them resembled Dad’s. If anything, he looked suspiciously like a particular actor who rose to fame in my past life. I scratched my head—time to dig deeper. That night, I reached out to Master Alaric Whitlock online. His live streams, in which he spilled celebrity gossip and told fortunes, had become my guilty pleasure. Sending him Dad’s ID photo privately, I asked him to analyze Dad’s “lineage fortune.” The old man squinted at the picture and said, “Too much Photoshop. Send me a candid shot.” I froze. How did he know I was a girl? My profile used a random guy’s photo from school! This guy had some fundamental skills. I rushed downstairs, snapped many candid shots of Dad watching TV—front, profile, close-up, everything—and uploaded them. Dad looked utterly confused, but I mumbled a weak excuse and fled. When the photos popped up on Alaric’s livestream, he sighed. “Troublesome kid, wasting my storage space.” Soon after, he confirmed my suspicions: Dad’s “child fortune” only allowed for one offspring. Me. Oh, Vanessa was about to face some serious consequences. Just as I was preparing to unleash my evidence, the hospital called. Mom had been in an accident. I raced to St. Mary’s Medical Center, only to see her through a pane of glass, her body covered in tubes. A wave of pain consumed me, sharp and relentless, as fragmented memories flooded back. I saw my past self standing beside Mom in a hospital bed, the flatline on the monitor, and the gut-wrenching scream that tore through me. Then, the scene shifted—dark skies, bloody hands, and endless despair. I jolted awake, my vision blackened by rage. Everything came back to me.

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My father, Derek Hartman, was a DEA agent who gave his life on the front lines of the drug war. Since I was a kid, I had one dream: to restore his badge number and follow in his footsteps. When I learned my scores were good enough to get into the federal law enforcement academy, I called my mom immediately to share the news. Her response was harsh: “You? A cop? With your pathetic grades? Restore your father’s badge number. Don’t embarrass him. Get lost!” Her words hit like a sledgehammer. Devastated, I wandered home, only to be ambushed in Shadow Creek Alley by a group of thugs. “Word is your dad, Derek Hartman, was a DEA hotshot. Trained a bunch of agents and made life hell for us. Let’s talk about that, shall we?” I refused to go quietly, fighting with everything I had. But they were prepared. A knife pierced my lower back, draining me of all strength. As my consciousness faded, I thought of my mom’s last words. Mom… have I disgraced Dad? Content In the early hours of the morning, Bayport police received a report about large amounts of blood found in Shadow Creek Alley. No victim was in sight. The caller assumed it was a drunken brawl gone wrong and urged the police to find the injured person quickly. Officers arrived to find the heavy rain had washed the blood into a chaotic mess. There were no signs of a victim nearby. A thorough search of the area led them to Riverside Millworks, an abandoned factory where they discovered dismembered body parts scattered across the floor. In the autopsy room, harsh fluorescent lights flickered on. “What’s the situation with this case?” A calm, authoritative voice broke the silence as a woman in a crisp forensic uniform entered, followed by two young officers. It was Dr. Vanessa Sterling-Hartman—my mother and the most respected forensic examiner in Bayport. One of the officers said hesitantly, “Dr. Hartman, the victim’s condition is… bad. Maybe you should prepare yourself…” My mom waved them off. “I’ve seen everything there is to see. Let’s start the autopsy and solve this case quickly.” Indeed, my mother had seen it all in her two-decade career—decapitations, dismemberments, even bodies dissolved in cement. She was a consummate professional. But Mom… have you ever considered that the body on your autopsy table might be the son you’ve always ignored? Floating above, detached and invisible, I watched her work without emotion. When she unzipped the body bag, her brow furrowed deeply—not just because of the mangled remains, but because one critical part was missing. “Where’s the head?” “We searched the entire factory,” one officer stammered. “It’s likely the suspects took it.” “Fine. Let’s proceed.” She donned gloves and began sorting the remains—bones, flesh, fragments of fingers. Each piece she identified was meticulously placed in order. “The victim is male. He’s between eighteen and twenty-three, roughly five-foot-nine to six feet, based on the growth plates. Likely a student,” she narrated with clinical precision. “Judging by the condition of the cuts, the killers broke the victim’s finger bones, radius, ulna, humerus, tibia, and femur while he was still alive. Then, they dismembered the limbs. It seems they weren’t satisfied and used blunt tools—his ribs and vertebrae are almost entirely shattered.” Her grim analysis left one of the young officers pale and trembling. He clutched his stomach, barely holding back nausea. The unimaginable pain and despair the victim endured hung heavy in the room. Mom turned suddenly. “Were any weapons found at the scene?” “Yes… these,” the officer stammered, handing her photos of a rusted, bloodstained saw and a hammer caked in blood and flesh. The dull blade of the saw had been used to cut through every joint and bone. The pain it inflicted on a living person was beyond description.

Mom frowned deeply. “This isn’t random. What kind of grudge would drive someone to do this to a kid?” Even revenge killings didn’t usually escalate to this level of brutality. One of the officers responded respectfully, “Dr. Hartman, Detective Sam Boone’s preliminary investigation ruled out robbery and random violence. This is a revenge killing. The team is cross-checking recent cases of missing persons citywide.” “Good,” she replied tersely. She resumed reconstructing the remains, hoping to uncover clues. But her efforts were in vain. Even dental records—often a surefire way to identify a victim—were useless because the suspects had taken the head. Identifying a person from such a pulverized, unclothed body seemed impossible. Floating nearby, I felt a strange mix of relief and sorrow. At least Mom didn’t know it was me. If she did, she’d only call me a disappointment one last time… With a heavy sigh, she muttered, “Poor kid. Whatever grudge they had with his family, why take it out on him?” For a brief moment, her eyes shimmered with tears. This was the mom I didn’t recognize. The meticulous forensic examiner piecing together every shard of bone. The compassionate woman feels for an unknown victim. It felt so foreign. I’d always known Mom didn’t like me. I remember one rainy night when I was in elementary school. I had a fever, and Mom rushed me to the hospital, letting Dad—exhausted from days of overtime—rest at home. But she didn’t know Dad got an urgent call not long after we left. He ran out without even grabbing his gear. That same night, he was killed in a shootout with a cartel kingpin. Mom was the one who handled Dad’s autopsy. I was too young to understand death back then, but now I realize how traumatic that must have been for her. Maybe Mom blamed me. If I hadn’t fallen ill that night, Dad might still be alive. Looking at her now, I couldn’t blame her. Her focus was interrupted by a sudden ringtone. She stopped mid-motion, glaring at the two officers. “It’s not us,” they said quickly. Mom checked her phone. The call was from Rachel, my aunt. “I’m busy,” Mom answered curtly. “Vanessa, do you know where Elijah is? His phone’s off, and no one’s seen him.” “Elijah?” Mom frowned. “I don’t know. I yelled at him yesterday. He’s probably sulking in some gaming café. Leave him be.” Rachel’s voice grew concerned. “You yelled at him? Vanessa, he was so excited yesterday! His scores were good enough for the academy!” “Academy? That boy needs to get a job in IT or something. Is he becoming a cop? That would be an insult to the profession.” Her voice was as sharp as ever.

Rachel hesitated momentarily before saying, “It’s always been Elijah’s dream. He worked so hard to get those scores. I even planned to celebrate with a big dinner—I bought so much seafood…” Vanessa’s anger flared. “I don’t care! If he applies to that academy, he can forget about calling me his mother. He can go rot wherever he wants!” She ended the call abruptly, her chest rising and falling in frustration as she stood over the autopsy table, silent for a long time. I’m sorry, Mom. I won’t apply to the academy. Please don’t be mad. It’s not worth your health. I wanted so badly to tell her that. But as a wandering spirit, I could only hover above and watch helplessly. I wanted to cry, but ghosts have no tears. By now, Mom had reassembled most of the body, but something was missing—two fingers from the right hand. She frowned, instructing the nearby officer. “The right ring finger and pinky are missing. Tell the team at the scene to look again. If they’re not found…” My spirit tensed. When I was a kid, I had teased a police dog and gotten bitten. Those two fingers had scars so deep they were unmistakable. That dog had to retire early because of me, and Mom had berated me endlessly. Had she forgotten? Of course, she forgot. She never cared about me… No! Maybe it’s better if she doesn’t remember. I can’t let her know she’s the one who lost both Dad and me. The young officer saluted. “Understood! If we can’t find the fingers, it likely means they had distinctive markings.” Mom nodded. “Exactly. Focus on people with old injuries or tattoos on their hands.” She cut off a small piece of flesh. “Run a DNA test. Cross-reference it with the database. Find any immediate relatives.” I felt a wave of panic. If they ran DNA tests, they’d figure it out quickly. Mom! Don’t do it. Don’t run the DNA! Drop this case! Please! But my pleas fell on deaf ears. She couldn’t hear me. Mom worked tirelessly in the autopsy room for hours. She had arrived early, and it was already dark again when she stepped out. “Dr. Hartman, you’ve worked so hard,” one of the officers said. Mom nodded slightly, about to head home when she saw Rachel waiting anxiously near the station entrance. “Vanessa, Elijah’s been missing for more than a day now! I talked to his friends—they haven’t seen him! I even checked all the gaming cafés near the school, but he was nowhere. What do we do?” Mom’s face tightened with annoyance. “This is just one of his tricks to get me to let him apply to the academy! It’s not going to work. As long as he stays out of trouble and follows the law, that’s good enough. He’s not cut out to be a cop!” Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. “Forget his applications! His safety is the priority right now! I just heard there’s been a big case—a boy was dismembered. Aren’t you even worried it could be Elijah?” Mom’s frustration erupted. “Stop speculating about open cases that haven’t been made public! Elijah is eighteen. He’s old enough to take care of himself. If something happens to him, it’s his fault for being careless and wondering where he shouldn’t!” Rachel froze. “I’m not trying to dig for information. I’m just… scared for him.” Mom’s gaze hardened. “If he can’t manage basic risk assessment, he has no business applying to the academy. He might as well go get a job at some office instead.”

“Vanessa Sterling-Hartman! Do you hear yourself? Elijah lost his father when he was just a kid. He’s already been through enough! Instead of breaking him down, you should be building him up. What kind of person are you?” Rachel’s voice cracked as she yelled, tears streaming down her face. “You better pray that poor boy, in this case,e isn’t Elijah. Because if it is, you’ll never forgive yourself!” Her words sent a jolt of fear through me. Does she know? But the look on Rachel’s face wasn’t one of certainty. She was bluffing to provoke Mom. And it worked. Mom’s face went pale, her voice defensive. “Impossible! I would know if it was my son! That boy is not Elijah!” Rachel clenched her fists. “If it is Elijah, you’re not getting those remains. You don’t care about him anyway. He belongs to the Hartman family!” Mom shot back, “Take him! Do you think I care? I’ve had enough of that dead weight anyway!” Rachel shook with anger. “You’re unbelievable, Vanessa! Elijah is a great kid; all he’s ever gotten from you is cruelty. You’re heartless! I can’t even look at you!” I floated above them, unsure how to feel. Rachel had always been there for me, especially after Dad’s death. Mom only cared for my basic needs, but Rachel filled in the gaps. She gave me my first razor and my first pair of boxers. When I wanted to apply to the academy, Rachel secretly paid for my tutoring sessions. From school supplies to gadgets, she covered it all. To Rachel, I was practically her son. As she stormed out of the station, I followed, hovering close. She pulled out her phone, hands trembling, and began typing a message. Curious, I leaned in to see. Elijah, things are dangerous out there. No matter how upset you are with your mom, you must come home. And if you can’t face her, come to me. I’ll pay for your college. Forget your mom—my door is always open. Please be safe. Tears welled up as I read her words. Rachel lost her brother, my dad, that night in the rain. Yet, she never let bitterness take root. She gave all her love to me instead. I’m sorry, Aunt Rachel. I’m afraid I’ll only let you down. I followed her for a while, but the further we got from the police station, the weaker I felt. My body—what was left of it—kept me tethered there. When I returned, I found Mom slumped in a chair, staring blankly ahead. One of the young officers approached her cautiously. “Dr. Hartman, you’ve been working nonstop for twenty hours. Please, get some rest.” Mom shook her head. “No. I can’t let this case go. I’ll rest here briefly, then go over the remains again.” The officer hesitated but nodded. “Alright.” I watched Mom’s exhausted body waver, torn between her dedication and limits. “The DNA results are in!” The announcement electrified the station. Even I felt a surge of unease. Mom, who had spent the last two nights at the station, rushed to the records room. “Did the database find a match? Who’s the victim?” “They’re running the comparison now. Give it a moment,” an officer replied. Everyone crowded around the screen, watching the progress bar creep forward. 75%… 88%… 95%… 100%. Every breath in the room was held as they waited for the result.

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The next time I saw Ryan Brooks, I was working at Club Renaissance, the most popular nightclub in the city. Dressed in a revealing bunny costume, tray in hand, I let the greedy eyes of the men linger on my legs as I passed by. A drunk customer bumped into me, knocking the tray from my hand, and the champagne crashed to the floor. The man was overweight, and with one slap, he struck me across the face. “You stupid girl! Do you even know how much these shoes cost?” My face stung, and my lips swelled almost immediately. I forced my aching mouth to move as I knelt down to wipe his shoes with my palm. The man seemed pleased, crouching down to grab my chin. “Not bad. How about coming with me tonight?” I smiled slightly, shaking my head. The alcohol made him bolder. Furious at my refusal, he kicked me hard in the stomach. He raised the bottle, aiming to strike me, but a tall figure stopped him. I looked up, and even after three years, I recognized him instantly—Ryan Brooks, the man I had dreamed of day and night. I was taken to a long black Lincoln limousine. Smooth piano music played, and I curled up quietly in the corner. Ryan poured himself a glass of whiskey and casually asked, “With ice?” I hesitated, nervous under his gaze. Seeing he wasn’t joking, I nodded. I sipped my champagne slowly from the crystal glass. Three years had passed, and Ryan had changed so much. The youthful boy I once knew had transformed into a man who carried himself like a king—powerful, regal, untouchable. His sculpted face, sharp features, and thin lips paired with his dark, intense eyes. Even when he lowered his gaze, you could see his long, thick eyelashes. He undid the buttons of his tailored suit, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked at me with a calm expression. “Why did you end up working as a hostess?” My face flushed, and I felt embarrassed as I tried to explain. “I’m not a hostess, I’m just a club girl…” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes filled with a mocking smile. “Is there a difference?” Of course… there wasn’t. Even though I was only making money carrying trays, in everyone else’s eyes, I was just another trashy hostess. “For your bedridden grandmother? Or was it for that little bit of tuition you needed?” Ryan’s tone was light, dripping with mockery, making me squirm in my seat. “Nina Morgan, if you agree to be my mistress, I’ll give you everything you want.” His voice was soft, but the words hit me like a bomb. I looked up at him. “Shouldn’t I be your girlfriend?” He finished his whiskey, tilting his head to look at me. “Girlfriend? Do you think you deserve that?” And just like that, I became Ryan Brooks’ mistress. He had good habits, never seeing other women, always keeping himself clean. That’s probably why I managed to stay in this role for ten long years. From the intensity of our nights together, I knew I was the only mistress he had. It sounded ridiculous, but it gave me some peace. The Morgans and the Brooks families were close since I was born, and Ryan and I were childhood sweethearts. I didn’t have any siblings, so I clung to him. We were in love with each other, even though he was always cold and distant. Still, he spoiled me endlessly. In the spring, we’d fly kites. In the summer, we’d watch the flowers bloom by the lake. In autumn, we’d walk under the tall sycamore trees, and in winter, we’d roast marshmallows at the cottage. When my parents fought, he comforted me. When I forgot my holiday homework, he stayed up all night helping me finish it. We promised to attend the same school. He would propose to me, become my lifelong partner, and make me the happiest woman in the world. But everything stopped that day. Ryan and I had gone back to my house after school, just like we always did, when we got the call from the police. My mom and Ryan’s dad had left suicide notes before driving off a cliff into the sea.

By the time we got to the scene, a crane was pulling the car out of the water. My mom and Ryan’s dad were lying on the beach, their bodies bloated from the water and starting to smell in the summer heat. I don’t remember how much I cried that day. All I know is that on the way to identify the bodies, Ryan’s mom was in a car accident. In just one day, he lost both his parents. He grabbed me by the neck, his face streaked with tears, but he smiled bitterly. “Nina, I don’t have a home anymore. What should I do?” I didn’t know how to comfort him, so I just hugged him and cried. Before he left, he looked at me with empty eyes. “Nina, I hate you.” After that, I never saw Ryan Brooks again. I heard that after his parents’ deaths, his uncle took over the family fortune. I tried looking for him many times, but he refused to meet me. Before long, I heard he had gone abroad to study, with the help of family friends his parents had before they died. I didn’t have it easy, either. My mom had barely died when my dad brought his mistress into the house. That’s when I found out that not only had my dad been seeing someone behind my mom’s back, but that he also had a daughter about my age. Now I had to call my dad’s mistress “Mom” and her daughter my “sister.” Speaking of that “sister,” I owe my job at the nightclub to her. Since Chloe Morgan arrived, my life had spiraled downward. I had no allowance, and my dad kicked me out to live in an old shed in the outskirts of town with my sick grandmother. I had to fend for myself, or I would’ve starved to death. One day, I saw a black Bentley pull up outside. Ryan Brooks was back. I took off my bathrobe, revealing the champagne-colored slip underneath. Ryan was the one keeping me alive. If it weren’t for his help, my grandmother wouldn’t have been in the hospital. He was unpredictable. I always had to be on guard around him. If I made the slightest mistake, I wouldn’t get any sleep that night. When I got downstairs, the butler was already holding the door for him. I rushed to greet him with slippers and a basin of warm water for his feet. Ryan leaned back on the couch, watching me intently. His gaze made my skin crawl, and I hesitantly asked, “You’re home early today. Tired? Should I make the bed for you?” He didn’t say anything, just handed me a red velvet box. “I saw this in the store window. It’s beautiful. I thought you’d like it.” I stared at the box, swallowing hard. “Is it a bracelet?” He shook his head, his eyes darkening with something more menacing. Fear ran cold through me, draining the color from my face. “Then it must be a necklace. I love necklaces. Thank you.” I reached for it, but he suddenly opened the box and wrapped the necklace tightly around my throat. I hadn’t expected it, and the chain nearly cut off my air supply. I struggled desperately to breathe. His breath was hot against my ear, and just when I thought I would die, he released his grip and fastened the necklace around my neck. “Pure ruby red. If I had squeezed a little harder, the blood from your veins would’ve been the same color, don’t you think?” I clutched the cold gemstone at my chest, gasping for air. It had been ten years, and he had never stopped finding ways to torture me—letting me experience death up close. And every time, it was always suffocation. I knew deep down, he wanted me to relive the shame and horror of my mother and his father’s deaths, to never forget the humiliation of our past. When the night was finally over, I went upstairs to take a shower. Ryan was a clean freak, so I had to scrub myself thoroughly, inside and out. When I got out of the bathroom, he was gone. After searching the house, I found the light on in the study. Good. He had work to do. That meant I could finally get some sleep. I turned around, only to bump into his broad chest. The familiar smell of cigarettes washed over me, and I almost fell to my knees in fear. Ryan stood there holding a cup of coffee, glaring down at me. He hung up the phone he was holding, but I still heard the sweet, sugary voice of the woman on the other end.

“What are you doing?” My shoulders trembled, and I lowered my head. “I’m going to sleep,” I murmured. Ryan Brooks gave a soft smile and pulled me into the bedroom. Tonight, he was unusually gentle. I let myself get lost in the moment, pretending, for once, that we were a real couple, entangled in passion through the night. When we were done, I got up and began dressing. It was his rule—I wasn’t allowed to stay the night in his room. He said it was because he found it “dirty.” He leaned on his hand, watching me with an amused expression. Casually, he tossed a card toward me. I glanced at it, confused. “I already have a limitless card—you gave it to me, remember?” Ryan smiled, the kind of smile that made him look like a cunning fox. “Tomorrow’s your mother’s death anniversary. Why don’t you buy some ‘paper money’ for her?” His next words cut deep. “Better take a little extra to keep her mouth shut down there. Otherwise, the other lost souls might mock her, calling her a cheap whore who seduced a married man.” I was furious. Ryan always knew exactly where to strike, never missing a chance to twist the knife. He hated when anyone brought up the past, and so did I. “Ryan, can’t you have just a bit of decency?” I spat out. He didn’t care about my anger. “Decency? Does a woman who broke up someone’s family deserve decency?” Tears welled up in my eyes, and I glared at him, wishing my gaze could burn a hole right through him. He got up, grabbing my neck. His muscles flexed, and for a moment, it felt like he could snap my neck with just a little more pressure. “Are you going to cry now? Poor little thing. A whore raised by a whore. You’ve already sold yourself; why not go all the way? What’s the point of pretending to have morals?” “If you make your benefactor mad and lose your chance to make money, your mom might curse you for being bad at your job.” Blinded by rage, I slapped him across the face. “This isn’t my fault, Ryan! Why are you treating me like this?” He tilted his head, cold light flashing in his eyes. The oppressive silence suffocated me. Just as I was about to run, he grabbed my waist and threw me onto the bed. That night, I endured unspeakable torment. My cries echoed through the bedroom until the early morning. By the time the light crept through the windows, Ryan had already left. I dragged my exhausted body downstairs, where the maids were preparing breakfast. Seeing my disheveled appearance, they all kept their distance, avoiding eye contact. The events of last night must’ve been heard by everyone. “Where’s Ryan?” My voice was hoarse as I asked. “Miss Riley has returned from abroad. Mr. Brooks went to pick her up,” one of the maids said, hastily setting down the breakfast and practically fleeing the room. I sat there, stirring the bowl of porridge absentmindedly. Riley Carter, heiress of the Carter Group, was the one who funded Ryan’s education abroad after his parents’ death. I’d only met Riley once when I was very young. It was at Ryan’s birthday party, and I still remember the proud way he introduced her, saying that I would be his future wife. I didn’t have much to do with Riley. Frankly, I didn’t care to know more about her. The weather was beautiful today, and I felt the need to get out. The driver dropped me off at the street corner, where I bought a bouquet of white chrysanthemums and took a taxi to the cemetery. The cemetery was old and overgrown with weeds, looking like it hadn’t been tended in years. I placed the flowers on my mother’s grave and started pulling out the surrounding weeds. My mother lay peacefully beneath the earth, while her picture on the tombstone had already faded with time. But even in the photograph, her gentle eyes smiled softly. I never understood what drew my mother to Ryan’s father or what kind of love story they had. I only knew that their tragic affair had dragged Ryan and me into hell. I leaned against the tombstone, gazing at the sky. The blue was so pure, dotted with fluffy white clouds, and for a moment, I felt lighter, as if I could breathe again. But the sudden ringing of my phone interrupted my thoughts. I fumbled for my phone, seeing the familiar number. My heart clenched. “Hello?” I answered, clutching the phone tightly, but there was silence on the other end. Swallowing hard, I spoke again, “What made you call? Don’t you have a meeting today?” Still no response. I knew this was Ryan sulking. I didn’t dare say more, waiting quietly. After a moment, I heard him take a sip of something, his tone growing lazy. “You’re out?” “Yes, just shopping,” I lied, my hands and feet tingling with fear. I had lied to him many times before, but I could never tell if he believed me or if he was playing along. All I knew was that if he ever found out, I’d be in serious trouble. Then came a low chuckle from the other end of the line. “Nina, you’re cold-blooded. Shopping on your mother’s death anniversary? What a devoted daughter you are.” I bit my lip, letting him ridicule me. I knew that the only reason he had called was to throw salt in the wound, just because of today’s significance. It had been like this for ten years. When he was done mocking me, he asked, “Did you buy anything? Something for me, perhaps?” Cold sweat trickled down my back. “I haven’t found anything yet. What would you like?” He laughed again. “Even though it’s your mom’s death anniversary, you wouldn’t want your benefactor to be tainted by bad luck, would you? Dead people aren’t worth as much as the living.” I swallowed my tears, pretending to be indifferent. “I understand.” “Come home later. I’ll pick you up tonight.” And with that, he hung up. That house. It was the last place I wanted to go, especially on a day like today. Going back to the Morgan Family Estate only meant more disdain, but I couldn’t disobey Ryan’s orders.

I left the cemetery and headed to the nearest mall. I casually picked out a designer watch, making sure to remind the sales associate that I wanted the latest model. Ryan had given me a black card with no spending limit. I could swipe it as much as I wanted. I had thought about buying a house and running away with my grandmother, but Ryan would be notified of every transaction. Plus, all the medical expenses for my grandmother were handled by his assistant. I couldn’t make a move without risking everything. If he ever found out I planned to escape, I’d be doomed. The watch was expensive, but I paid for it with my own card. I also picked up some groceries and rushed over to the estate. It was just about dinnertime at the house. The housekeeper looked awkward when she saw me, then handed me a pair of disposable slippers. I didn’t care much about the cold reception and headed into the living room with the gifts I’d brought. Diane Morgan, my stepmother, was sitting on the couch, painting her nails and watching TV. She muttered, “That old housekeeper must be losing her mind, letting any stray cat or dog in here. Doesn’t she worry about catching some disease?” Then she noticed me and flashed a fake smile, holding her coffee cup up as if to toast me. “Well, Nina’s here. Have a seat.” I nodded and deliberately placed the gifts in the most visible corner, making it clear I wasn’t here to freeload. She glanced at the gifts, her expression full of disdain. “Next time, don’t bother wasting money like that. Your dad and I don’t eat knock-offs.” Ignoring her insults, I moved to sit down, but she suddenly shrieked, her voice shrill and mocking. “Where’s the housekeeper? Get over here! The couch is contaminated by someone who’s been on the streets!” I froze mid-squat as the housekeeper rushed over to cover the couch with several layers of plastic wrap beneath me. I decided not to sit after all, standing there instead, watching them. Just then, Chloe Morgan came downstairs, and her face immediately soured when she saw me. “Oh, no wonder it stinks in here. The plague has arrived,” Chloe sneered as she pushed past me and cuddled up next to Diane. “Mom, she smells awful. You should kick her out!” Diane caressed Chloe’s flawless skin like she was a precious gem, her expression gentle and loving, but her words were laced with venom. “What can I do, sweetie? The girl’s got legs of her own. I can’t stop her from coming in here to beg for our money.” Chloe pouted, picking a grape from the fruit bowl. That’s when I noticed the diamond bracelet on her wrist—my mother’s bracelet. It wasn’t just the bracelet. My mother had owned a lot of jewelry, all of it passed down from my grandmother as part of her dowry. But after my mother’s death, the estate had been absorbed into my dad’s possessions. Furious, I lunged forward, grabbing Chloe’s wrist to rip the bracelet off. She slapped me across the face. “What are you, crazy? Do you want me to have you arrested for robbery?” I wasn’t going to take it anymore. I yanked her up from the couch and slapped her across the face—twice. The loud smacks echoed through the room. Chloe had always been pampered, like a delicate flower kept safely in a greenhouse. Her skin wasn’t used to the rough treatment I endured every day. Her lips quickly swelled from the blows. “This is my mother’s dowry. What gives you the right to take it?” Chloe had clearly never expected me to actually hit her. She collapsed on the floor, screaming and crying. I took the opportunity to yank the bracelet off her wrist. Seeing her precious daughter in distress, Diane rolled up her sleeves and rushed at me, grabbing a handful of my hair. My mother had been a lady of grace and refinement, but Diane and Chloe were different. Despite living in luxury for years, their true nature showed when provoked. Diane clawed at my hair, screaming every vulgar insult she could muster, dragging my family’s name through the dirt. The words were filthy, words I wouldn’t repeat. But I wasn’t about to let her walk all over me. If acting crazy meant survival, I could play that game, too. I bit down hard on her wrist, making her howl in pain. Chloe jumped in to help her mother, but I kicked her away with a hard shove. Diane had wormed her way into my parents’ marriage, and it didn’t take long after my mom’s death for her to move in like she owned the place. She even kicked my grandmother and me out of the family home. I had to juggle school and work just to support us, and every so often, Diane and Chloe would show up to harass us. I’ll never forget the night it was pouring rain. My grandmother had a heart attack, and Diane threw us out of the storage shed where we lived. I knelt outside in the rain, begging for mercy, but Chloe had someone tear the roof off the shed. Everything I owned—my furniture, even my college acceptance letter—was soaked and ruined. Chloe caught a cold after that, and my dad came to the hospital just to beat me, then cut off my grandmother’s access to life-saving medication. Suddenly, I understood Ryan’s hatred toward me. After all, when his family’s fortune was taken from him, he was left at the mercy of others. He must’ve suffered the way I did. I could hate my dad, Diane, and Chloe, but who could Ryan hate, if not me? As Diane continued to wail, she suddenly collapsed, clutching her chest, gasping for breath. She looked pitiful, tears streaming down her face. I hadn’t even processed what was happening when I felt a strong hand grab the back of my head. In one swift motion, I was hurled across the room. I crashed into the wine cabinet, sending crystal glasses tumbling down. One of the shards sliced a deep gash across my hand, blood dripping onto the floor. “Calm down, Diane. She’s still a child,” I heard a familiar voice say. It was my father, Richard Morgan, the man who had abandoned me. “Dad, it’s my fault! I made her mad!” Chloe cried, rushing into his arms, tears and snot covering her face. “I just wanted to give my bracelet to her, but I guess her taste is too high for cheap things like this.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I shoved the bracelet toward my father, fury burning in my chest. “This was my mother’s dowry. What right does anyone have to take it from me?” Richard Morgan looked down at me with cold indifference. “When your mother married into the Morgan family, her things became the family’s property.” “Considering what she did, do you really think you have a claim to it? You ungrateful little brat. Do I need to remind you of your place?” Tears threatened to spill, but I held them back. “You have another child now. So who’s really at fault—my mother or you?” As expected, another slap came down on my face, so hard it made my teeth rattle. I staggered back, barely managing to stay upright, when I felt a pair of strong hands steadying me. I turned, and there stood Ryan, his face impassive as ever. He addressed my father with a calm, detached voice. “Apologies, Mr. Morgan. I’m here to take Nina home.” Ryan let go of me, and the moment he appeared, the tension in the room thickened. Mr. Morgan’s eyes narrowed, and Chloe stopped crying, her face lighting up. She hurried toward Ryan, throwing herself into his arms. “Ryan, thank God you’re here! My sister’s gone crazy! She really scared me.” I stood there, frozen. I had no idea what to say, what kind of expression to wear. It felt like my world had tilted, leaving me standing on unsteady ground.

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My arrogant roommate recently snagged herself a “trust fund guy” boyfriend and has made it her mission to make my life miserable. She even stole my scholarship, then rallied a bunch of people online to bash me. “Oh, look at the campus star,” she sneered, “Too proud to donate a dime for her roommate’s family even though her ‘scholarship boyfriend’ just gave a million!” I was speechless. The anonymous million-dollar donor was me. When she saw I didn’t react, she brought her boyfriend over to “put me in my place.” Wait, isn’t that… my family’s security guard? How did he end up driving my car to take girls on dates? 1、 Recently, my roommate Danielle Clementine has been dating a “trust fund guy,” and she flaunts it around the dorm nonstop. “Hey, check out this Tiffany bracelet he got me. Isn’t it gorgeous?” Danielle raised her wrist to catch the sunlight, making sure the bracelet sparkled just right. “Wow, that must’ve cost thousands! Your boyfriend’s so good to you!” “For real! Does he have any friends? Set us up!” The other girls gathered around her, laying on the compliments thick. They practically worshipped her, making Danielle beam like she’d just won an award. She even tossed around high-end cosmetics from her stash, and the others scrambled to grab whatever they could, fawning over her even more. I was off to the side, reading quietly, not joining the chorus. This caught Danielle’s attention, and she gave me a sour look. “Sophie, don’t you think this Tiffany bracelet is stunning? Way better than that cheap silver bangle you’re always wearing, right?” I glanced at her “Tiffany” bracelet and knew right away it was a knockoff. My “plain” silver bracelet? A limited-edition piece from Tiffany’s. But seeing Danielle so proud of her “luxury” item, I held back. “Yeah, it’s really pretty. My little silver bracelet is nothing special.” Danielle’s smile widened, clearly pleased, and she came over and snapped my book shut. “Sophie, you really need to invest in some decent jewelry. It’s embarrassing standing next to you.” I was at a loss for words. Everyone knew Danielle’s background wasn’t exactly high-end; her family wasn’t even middle-class. She’d lived in cheap T-shirts and jeans before this “boyfriend” came along, and now she acted like a celebrity. I nodded absentmindedly, trying to remember what page I was on before she interrupted. Alexa Wind, another roommate, joined Danielle, looping her arm around Danielle’s. “Don’t worry about her. You and she aren’t even in the same league. Let’s have dinner together tonight. I want to hear more about you and your boyfriend!” Danielle smirked and raised her voice. “No can do. I’m going out with my boyfriend tonight.” Jealousy flickered in Alexa’s eyes. “Oh, at a fancy restaurant, right? Be sure to post on your feed!” Danielle said nothing, applying makeup for a solid fifteen minutes before putting on her one dress that cost more than $500, strutting out like a high-society swan. That evening, I ordered spicy gumbo and was eating happily in the dorm when Alexa squealed over her phone, “Danielle just posted! Look! Foie gras, caviar, red wine, steak… Oh my gosh!” A group of roommates crowded around to see, and Alexa glanced at my gumbo with a disdainful look. “Some people go on fancy dates with trust fund guys, and some just stay home with cheap gumbo. Isn’t the difference staggering?” I looked down at my steaming bowl of gumbo. Eating gumbo was a crime now? Seeing I wasn’t reacting, Alexa waved her phone in front of my face. “See? Danielle and her boyfriend are just so perfect together.” I glanced at the picture, and immediately my interest was piqued. The “trust fund guy” with his arm around Danielle? My family’s new security guard! My dad struck it rich with his first jackpot win and eventually made millions in Seattle through successful investments. During high school, I had everything: designer clothes, a chauffeur, and more. But the downside? I nearly got kidnapped. After that, Dad insisted I keep a low profile when I went to college. Even though he’d bought a mansion for me in Greenwich, Connecticut, near Columbia University, he encouraged me to stay on campus with other students. I was still used to high-quality clothes, so when people noticed, I started calling them knockoffs to keep a low profile. Eventually, everyone assumed I was a bit of a poser with a taste for imitation brands. I didn’t care—I was here to study. My dad never got the chance to go to college, so he always told me, “We may have nothing but money, but you study hard and make me proud!” A wall at home was covered with certificates of my achievements, each probably worth pennies, but each framed and tended to by the housekeeper. One time, Dad even climbed a ladder to glue a loose corner back on one of the frames. I came to college aiming to win scholarships every year. Money didn’t matter; it was all about the honor. I spent most of my time in the library and rarely went home to the mansion. Recently, we had to replace one of our security guards, so the previous one recommended his nephew, Tony James. He seemed responsible, so I didn’t hesitate to hire him. And here he was, passing himself off as a rich boyfriend for Danielle! As the roommates huddled around Danielle’s post, I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. 2 Danielle came back from her date, wearing a knockoff Chanel outfit and carrying a pile of gifts. One by one, she unwrapped them, and the roommates fawned over her. “Danielle, that Chanel looks amazing on you.” “Wow, a Gucci perfume too! Can I just hold it for a second?” “So jealous! You had a date at a five-star hotel, right?” Danielle didn’t stop smiling, even sneaking a glance my way as she unwrapped a bag and held it up. “Hey, Sophie, I remember you have a similar Hermès. Wanna bring it out so we can compare?” I took out an earbud, barely responding when Danielle opened my locker, pulling out my Hermès tote to place it beside hers. Danielle raised her voice. “Wow, Sophie, your tote doesn’t look quite the same as mine, does it?” The difference was obvious. Danielle’s was brighter, had thicker edging, and felt smoother—traits of a knockoff. Feigning surprise, Danielle said, “How strange! Mine’s a gift from my boyfriend. Yours came from home, didn’t it?” Alexa, catching Danielle’s hint, chimed in, “Oh yeah, Sophie did start college with knockoffs. Makes sense her bag isn’t the real deal.” Alexa continued, “Sophie, buying fake designer stuff doesn’t change your background. If you’re always flaunting knockoffs, it’s just going to cloud your perspective.” Danielle beamed at Alexa’s support, then turned to me with a condescending look. “I’d rather not have a roommate who doesn’t know right from wrong.” The two of them clearly expected me to cower, but I kept my cool, suppressing the urge to slap down the receipts right in front of them. Dad’s advice flashed in my mind, so I reined it in. “Danielle, did you ask permission before rummaging through my stuff? And Alexa, you’ve got a real knack for flattery. You two make a great team.” Danielle scoffed and picked up a pair of scissors. “Well, if I hadn’t looked, I’d never know just how far your vanity goes. I’ll be nice and help you out by cutting up this knockoff.” She aimed the scissors at my bag, and Alexa stepped closer, urging the others to hold me down. Completely unfazed, I said calmly, “Danielle, go ahead. But if you make a single cut, you’re paying for it.” “Even if this is a fake Hermès, it’s still worth thousands. You sure you can cover it?” After a pause, Danielle backed down, sulking as she put the scissors away. She threw me a glare before retreating. I hadn’t expected Danielle to cave that easily. The cheapest Hermès knockoff could cost just a few hundred bucks, probably around what Danielle’s bag was worth. I glanced her way and said, “Clean up my locker when you’re done.” Alexa sneered, “Sophie, don’t push it.” Danielle ignored me, humming to herself as she cleaned up. But I wasn’t letting it go. “Danielle, I’ll only ask once more. Clean my locker.” Danielle rolled her eyes, acting indifferent, but I stood up, kicked her chair, and said firmly, “I won’t ask again.” My roommates were all rich kids, unused to confrontation, and froze. Even Alexa went silent. Danielle gave a small shiver but reluctantly came over to clean up. I heard her mumble an insult under her breath, but I didn’t care. When she finished, I checked my now-organized locker, then returned to my seat and started reading my textbook out loud. The dorm went completely quiet, my voice clear as day. 3 I didn’t give Danielle much more thought, putting all my energy into earning a scholarship. My GPA was the highest in the department, I aced all my physical exams, and I participated in every scholarship-eligible event. So imagine my shock on award day when Danielle’s name topped the list for the National Merit Scholarship—and mine was nowhere to be found, not even a minor award. The hours I’d poured into studying, the sweat I’d shed—all a joke. Fuming, I checked my records. My scores were all top-tier except for “character,” where Ms. Julia Lambert had marked me as “unsatisfactory.” Heart pounding with anger and confusion, I marched to Ms. Lambert’s office. Upon entering, I found Danielle sitting there, smiling, as if she had just received an award. “Wow, didn’t expect to get so lucky. Guess hard work doesn’t always pay off, huh, Sophie?” Ignoring her, I asked, “Ms. Lambert, I have a question about the scholarship results.” Ms. Lambert sighed, adjusting her glasses, and said coldly, “Sophie, academics aren’t everything. You lack teamwork and character, so I couldn’t recommend you for the scholarship.” I was stunned. As a class rep, I got along with everyone and often lent my notes before exams. I’d done nothing to deserve this… except maybe clash with my roommates. Danielle’s guilty expression confirmed my suspicion. Taking a deep breath, I calmly turned to Ms. Lambert. “Ms. Lambert, basing this on one person’s word seems unfair.” Ms. Lambert’s face hardened. “Are you questioning my decision?” Danielle piled on. “Oh, Ms. Lambert, don’t bother with her. Sophie can be pretty low-brow.” I couldn’t help but notice Ms. Lambert’s “Tiffany” bracelet, a familiar knockoff. “Ms. Lambert, that Tiffany bracelet—you got that from Danielle, didn’t you?” Leaving Ms. Lambert speechless, I exited, saying, “If I can’t get justice here, there’s always the Dean.” Danielle sneered, “Go ahead. I’d love to see you try.” In the hallway, whispers buzzed about the scholarship. The room fell silent as I passed, except for Alexa’s mocking voice. “Well, look who’s here—the top student. Can’t even snag a scholarship?” I ignored her, called the Dean’s office, and when I couldn’t reach him, sent a long email detailing everything with evidence attached. After a week of waiting and disappointment, I had just given up when my phone buzzed. It was a message from Dad: “Don’t forget about your old man now that you’ve won! Keep up the good work.” Choked with emotion, I video-called my parents, finally letting the tears flow as I explained everything. Mom was furious, slapping Dad on the shoulder. “Frank, you call the Dean right now and demand this counselor be fired!” I sniffled, “I’ve tried; they don’t respond. What can Dad do?” Dad scratched his head. “Didn’t I tell you? I’m on the board of trustees.” Before I could react, the Dean called personally, apologizing and promising immediate action. Right as Danielle strutted in, the Dean’s voice rang through the speaker, “As per school policy, your roommate will face disciplinary action and return the scholarship.” Danielle burst out laughing. “Really, Sophie? Did you just hire someone to pretend they’re the Dean? That’s hilarious!”

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My name is Bryce Miller, and I just turned thirty. I consider myself a winner in life. I own a house and a car, I have a respectable job with a stable income, and a beautiful wife. Life is pretty perfect. Oh, and when I say house and car, I mean top of the line. But recently, I’ve been troubled. My wife, Rebecca, is pregnant. She’s three months along. Of course, that’s good news. I’ve never been against having kids. In fact, I’ve dreamed of having a child of my own, and I’m excited for the arrival of this new life. But with Rebecca being pregnant, she can’t be intimate with me. I’m a healthy man in my prime, and I still have needs. I can’t just take care of things myself every night, right? I hold myself to high standards. I’ve always been a law-abiding man, and I’d never do something like hire an escort. So, I turned to Chloe Morgan, my wife’s best friend. Yep, exactly the kind of “turning” you’re thinking of. Rebecca and I met in college and started working at Broadway Financial Group right after graduation. A year later, Chloe joined the company too. Chloe didn’t go to our school, but she and Rebecca had known each other since college and hit it off well. They became inseparable. Chloe was over at our house all the time, practically like family. She worked in my department, so we saw each other a lot. One night, after working late, it was around eight in the evening, and it was winter. I offered to drive Chloe home. When we got to her apartment building, she asked if I wanted to come up for a drink. I knew exactly what she was suggesting. And since I knew, I went along with it. Upstairs, she changed into this lacy, see-through slip and brought me a drink. I took a sip and couldn’t stop staring at her. One thing led to another, and sitting down for a drink turned into “doing something else”—the kind of “something” you can only do in bed. When I got home, Rebecca was still waiting up for me. I felt a little guilty. But soon enough, my head was filled with thoughts of Chloe’s amazing body, and that night, I dreamed about our time together. That’s when I realized why people cheat—man, it’s exciting. Once there’s a first time, there’s a second. And a third. Sometimes at her apartment, sometimes at a hotel like the Hilton Nashville Downtown. At first, I felt bad. But after a few times, I stopped feeling guilty. I convinced myself that I was just a man with needs. It was only physical. I was still 100% in love with Rebecca, still dedicated to my family. I had no plans to leave her or start a new life with Chloe. And Chloe? She was easygoing. Anytime I wanted to meet up, she’d come, always willing and able, no matter what. We even texted each other all sorts of dirty messages when we had nothing better to do. Honestly, Chloe was just trouble—a real-life temptress. How on earth did Rebecca end up with a friend like that? What did she do in a past life to deserve this? By the end of the year, Rebecca’s belly was growing, and I was more attentive to her than ever. On top of that, work was crazy busy. Year-end projects had me working day and night, so I didn’t have much time for Chloe. After all, work and family come first. Sneaking around with a mistress is just a side hobby. Chloe sent me a few messages, some of them with sexy photos—some of her wearing next to nothing. I just replied coolly, telling her I was too busy and we’d catch up later. She even came to my office once, giving me those flirty looks, but I pretended not to notice. In a company full of people, what could she say? There was no way she’d make a scene. A few days later, I heard she’d found a new boyfriend, some rich guy. Eventually, she quit her job and moved down south with him. I figured our affair had just fizzled out. As long as we both kept quiet, who would ever know we’d slept together? To everyone else, it was just a fleeting dream. A month passed, and New Year’s was coming. One night, Rebecca and I were in bed. She was on her phone, chatting with someone. Worried she might be getting too tired, I told her it was time to sleep. She nodded and then turned to me, “Honey, I need to ask you something. My best friend wants to stay with us for a while.” “Which friend?” “Chloe.”

“Who?” “Chloe Morgan—you know, from your department. My best friend, the pretty one.” Rebecca blinked at me, her expression a little odd. She thought I’d forgotten who Chloe was. I quickly steadied myself. “Of course, I remember. What’s up with her?” Rebecca snorted, “She ran into a jerk. You know the type—those guys who hit it and quit it. Honey, don’t you think guys like that are disgusting? Married, but still out there looking for women. After they get what they want, they disappear. Now Chloe’s in a bad spot.” “Yeah… that’s awful.” What else could I say? I had to agree with her. I couldn’t exactly tell Rebecca, “Yep, your husband’s that kind of guy too.” Rebecca kept going, “He took all her money and ditched her. Now she can’t even pay her rent. Honey, let her stay here for a while. I’m pregnant, and she could help take care of me.” There was no way I could agree to that. Sure, I was into thrills, but having my mistress live under the same roof as my wife? That wasn’t thrilling—that was suicidal. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. If she needs a place to stay, I can help her find one—a hotel, maybe a short-term rental?” Rebecca shook her head immediately, “No, that won’t work. She’s really fragile right now. She was crying the whole time when we met up yesterday. I’m worried she might do something drastic. Please, honey, let her stay. She won’t be any trouble, and she’ll really help take care of me. After all, we’re best friends.” What could I say after that? I had no choice but to agree. Rebecca handled human resources at work and was known for being tough. If she hadn’t gotten married and pregnant, she’d probably be in a higher position than me by now. Plus, her dad was friends with the company’s owner. I wasn’t about to argue with her. I felt even guiltier toward Rebecca. She had sacrificed so much for our family, and here I was, cheating with her best friend. I silently promised that I’d make it up to her, that I’d treat her right from now on. Otherwise, may I be struck by lightning. They say a man’s promises are empty lies. Turns out, that’s true. We don’t just lie to women—we lie to ourselves. The next day, Chloe showed up. She looked a lot worse than before—clearly, the breakup had taken a toll on her. The moment she saw Rebecca, they were inseparable, chatting away and leaving me completely out of the picture. I found a moment to ask Rebecca, “She doesn’t seem that bad. I thought you said she was struggling?” Rebecca hushed me, “Don’t be fooled. She’s putting on a brave face, but inside, she’s a wreck. Stop saying that. Oh, and you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” I wanted to say more, but Chloe was already calling Rebecca’s name. Rebecca gave me a push and went over to her, tossing my bedding onto the couch on her way. Rebecca was just too kind. At dinner, Chloe’s foot nudged me under the table. I ignored her. Then she slipped off her high heels and rubbed my leg with her stockinged foot. I couldn’t take it. I got up and stopped eating. Rebecca asked what was wrong, and I just said I was full. After dinner, Rebecca scolded me privately, saying I was rude to Chloe and that I didn’t want her staying with us. I didn’t argue. I just wanted to sleep. The two women kept talking in the bedroom, chatting until well past ten. I’d had a long, stressful day. The moment my head hit the pillow on the couch, I was out. Around one or two in the morning, I felt someone snuggling up next to me. I opened my eyes to find Chloe lying beside me, wearing the same see-through slip she’d worn the night I first cheated on Rebecca. “Bryce, you haven’t forgotten about me, have you?” Then, she pounced on me, knowing exactly what to do. I broke out in a cold sweat. This was my home! And Rebecca was just in the next room!

　I remember the last time Chloe and I were at her place, we were also on the couch. My mind told me to resist, but my body didn’t listen. It wasn’t until we heard a noise from the bedroom that Chloe finally got up from the couch. She tossed her hair and said, “Rebecca’s awake. I should head back. We can pick this up next time.” She gave me a mischievous smile, her eyes full of teasing. I turned my head to avoid looking at her, but I couldn’t get her out of my mind. The dim light in the room cast shadows, and I saw myself slumped on the couch, looking as pathetic as ever. It’s the same old story—once you do it the first time, the second time comes easily, and after the second, it just keeps happening. And just like that, Chloe and I reignited our affair. Sneaking around with my mistress under my wife’s nose—it was reckless, I knew that. But I couldn’t stop. There were times when Rebecca almost caught us. But Chloe was always quick to cover for me, helping me get away just in time. I even used my connections to get Chloe back into the company. That way, we could see each other more, and naturally, seeing each other led to… well, you know. Chloe would joke that Rebecca—my wife and her “best friend”—asked her to keep an eye on me to make sure I wasn’t cheating. She would laugh as she said it, and in her mind, Rebecca was nothing more than a fool. A couple of days later, Chloe told me she was feeling better and that she was ready to move out. Rebecca didn’t stop her. In fact, she asked me to help Chloe with the move. Chloe told Rebecca she was planning to find a boyfriend who would treat her well. Rebecca asked, “How well?” Chloe gave me a sly glance and said, “Oh, as well as your husband does.” Rebecca just laughed, thinking Chloe was joking. A few days before New Year’s, my parents came to stay with us. With Rebecca being pregnant, it was hard for her to do much, so they were there to help. Mostly, it was my mom doing the work. My dad, well, he did what he could—some household chores, running errands. Dad was in great shape. He’d served in the military when he was younger, and even in his sixties, he was fit. He had more black hair than gray, and he took walks every morning and evening. It was that very habit that led to him stumbling upon me and Chloe. It all started simply enough. Rebecca had invited Chloe over for dinner. She even asked if Chloe had any plans for the evening, like a date. Chloe said she didn’t, but she had her eye on someone. Rebecca kept pressing, asking if she knew him. Chloe dodged the question with a smile. I drove Chloe home after dinner. We got to her apartment complex, and she told me to stop the car. I wasn’t sure what she was up to, but I pulled over anyway. Without warning, she lunged into my lap, saying she wanted a little “affection” before heading inside. Before I could object, she was already making her move. I’m the type of guy who can’t resist women—especially someone like Chloe, who’s clingy and seductive. I guess I’m one of those men they say think with their lower half. After we’d had our fun and were tidying ourselves up, I was about to drive into the complex when I suddenly noticed someone standing at the entrance. It was my dad. I broke into a cold sweat. Dad was strict—if he found out… it would be a disaster. That night at dinner, Chloe had my mom laughing so hard she nearly cried. Dad joined in too, but every time I met his eyes, there was an icy look in them that made me nervous. After dinner, Rebecca asked me to take Chloe home. At her apartment building, she turned to me and asked, “Do you prefer boys or girls? You probably want a boy, right? Since you’re an only child, you need to carry on the family name.” I didn’t respond. Chloe continued, “Rebecca’s carrying a girl. Trust me.” “I’d be happy with a girl,” I replied. “And if we want a boy, we can always have another.” “Oh? But Rebecca said she doesn’t want more kids. She’s focused on her career. You’re lucky she’s having one for you.” She leaned in close, whispering in my ear, “I’ll give you as many kids as you want.” I glared at her and pointed to the door. “Get out.” When I got home, it was late. I yawned and pushed open the door. My parents were in the living room. Before I could say anything, my dad slapped me hard across the face, nearly knocking me over. “Dad, what the—” “You know what this is about!” And I did know. I dropped to my knees in front of him. “Dad, I messed up. I lost my head for a moment. I swear, it’s over between us.” My mom tugged at my dad’s sleeve, urging him to calm down. Dad sighed heavily and spoke in a low voice, “You better remember what you just said. End it with that woman, or you’re going to destroy this family.” I nodded hard, and in my mind, I told myself the same thing—I had to cut things off with Chloe for good.

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The CEO wants to take my kidney for his first love. I was drugged and sent to a private hospital, but little did he know, the surgeon was my own brother. I begged the CEO to leave with me quickly, but he refused. What he didn’t know was that once he stepped into this hospital, he would never leave alive. Because my brother is a serial killer, my mother is a professional at dismembering bodies, and my father is a sociopath. And I am the family’s precious darling. “I won’t sign this contract.” I looked up at Lucas Sterling, pushing back the document that would require me to sell my kidney. “It’s okay, Lucas. Don’t force Aria. As long as you’re with me in my final days, that’s enough,” Sophia, sitting next to Lucas, spoke softly. I stared at them, trying to control my emotions despite telling myself not to care about them anymore. To an outsider, they might look like a couple. In reality, I was Lucas’s girlfriend of two years. Seeing Sophia’s understanding attitude, Lucas’s gaze towards me grew even more disdainful. “Aria, I’ve already promised you that once you donate a kidney to Sophia, you can marry into the Sterling family. You won’t have to work, and you’ll have everything you need. It’ll be a hundred times better than your current life!” His tone made it sound like I was the one begging him to marry me. But two years ago, he had promised that I would be the future Mrs. Sterling. I sighed and stood up to leave, but Lucas grabbed my hand. The warmth of his touch made me feel momentarily disoriented. How long had it been since he last held my hand? Lucas’s face showed a hint of anger. “Aria, I’ve never lost my temper with you before. Don’t push me.” After a pause, as if realizing he had spoken too harshly, he added, “Be a good person, Aria.” A good person? Does being good mean handing over my kidney without question? To a homewrecker? Not wanting to look at the two of them any longer, I shook off his hand and walked out of the room. “Forget it, Lucas. Let’s break up.” “Lucas, it’s okay. Maybe Miss Reed doesn’t like me and feels I’m interfering with your relationship…” I heard Sophia’s sobs and Lucas’s angry voice behind me: “Aria, don’t regret this!” Back in my rented apartment, I lay down on the bed. Two years ago, I had come to this city alone. My first job was at a company owned by the Sterling family. As a newcomer, I was often assigned difficult tasks, which meant frequent overtime. Lucas, as the newly appointed CEO, was also working late to familiarize himself with the business. That’s how we met. He said there was a light in my eyes that kept him going whenever he felt tired. Later, he confessed his feelings, and we started dating secretly. Since that day when I suggested breaking up with Lucas, he never came to find me. I thought he had given up, so I felt relieved. But I had underestimated his love for Sophia. I was sleeping in my own small bed, but when I woke up again, I found myself lying in a hospital bed in a private clinic. My phone had been taken away. Lucas placed a meal in front of me and said coldly, “Eat more and get some sleep these few days. If anything happens to your kidney, don’t blame me for being harsh!” After Lucas left, I slowly ate the food in the box. There’s no point in fighting against your own body. Besides, eating more would give me strength to escape. After finishing the meal, in the afternoon, I started to plan my escape route. I saw a map of the entire hospital in the corridor. The main entrance was definitely not an option; Lucas might have instructed the reception nurses. My only choice was the back door. As night fell, I slipped out of the ward and made my way to the back door. I couldn’t open it, but I could climb over the wall. Just as I was about to leave, I heard faint cries for help that caught my attention. Without much thought, my first instinct was to help. I ran towards the source of the sound without hesitation. What I saw was a man with his hands and feet bound, all ten fingers cut off. I stood there, momentarily stunned. This method of torture was all too familiar to me. Lost in thought, I didn’t notice the man’s terrified gaze behind me. The next moment, a gentle yet cold voice sounded behind me: “Peeking at someone else’s murder isn’t what good girls do, you know.” As he walked past me, the familiar face in the moonlight triggered my horrifying memories. I felt as if someone was choking me; I couldn’t speak. He walked up to the man and swiftly stabbed him. The man fell to the ground, no longer breathing. At the same time, I heard someone calling my name from a distance. “Aria! Aria!” “You’d better not let me catch you, or you’re done for!” Hearing Lucas’s voice at this moment made me want to laugh. How much did Lucas care about Sophia to come to the hospital himself so late at night to look for me? A flashlight beam shone over, and a security guard shouted, “Miss Reed is here!” The person behind me discreetly blocked the corpse, and then Lucas immediately ran over. His action of hiding the body was completely unnecessary. The night was dark, he was standing behind a tree, and it wasn’t easy to see. Plus, Lucas only had eyes for me at that moment and paid no attention to anyone else. He grabbed my hand without a word, the huge force making my wrist hurt. “Aria, you’re getting more and more disobedient. Is it so hard to donate a kidney? It’s not like I’m asking for your life!” he yelled at me. “Sophia only has six months to live. She’s so gentle and kind, how can you bear not to save her?” Saying this, he dragged me back to the ward. Before leaving, I looked back one last time. In the moonlight, the man stood there with a cold expression, his gloomy gaze fixed on Lucas. I couldn’t help but shudder. Back in the ward, taking advantage of the fact that we were alone, I frantically said to Lucas, “Let’s leave this place, it’s dangerous!” Lucas disgustedly pushed me away, and I hit the hospital bed. “Aria, I’m warning you, don’t try these useless tricks. Do you think I’d believe your nonsense?” “If you try to escape again, don’t blame me for breaking your legs!” I stared blankly at the man before me. Judging from his expression, he was serious. But just a month ago, he was holding my hand, planning how to celebrate our two-year anniversary. Why could a person change so dramatically in just one month? Just then, Sophia walked in gracefully, dressed in white. As soon as she saw me, her eyes turned red. “Miss Reed, it’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me, Lucas wouldn’t be angry with you. Does it hurt?” She came forward, her hand stroking my forehead, but out of Lucas’s sight, she pressed down hard. I cried out in pain and pushed her away at the same time. “Ah!” She screamed even louder than me. Lucas immediately bent down anxiously to help her up, then glared at me angrily. “Aria, I really misjudged you before. You’re too vicious! How could I have been with a woman like you!” With that, he picked up Sophia and carried her out of the ward. Before leaving, he looked back at me coldly. “Aria, if you behave and donate your kidney to Sophia, I’ll forgive you.” “Otherwise, you know what will happen.” Sophia’s health had been deteriorating recently, so she was also arranged to be hospitalized. After she was admitted, Mrs. Sterling, whom I had only met once, came to the hospital for the first time ever. Sophia’s bed was set up next to mine. Mrs. Sterling stroked Sophia’s hand, smiling brightly as she said, “Sophia, dear, get well soon and marry our Lucas.” Sophia’s face turned red with embarrassment. “Auntie, don’t say that. Miss Reed is still here.” Only then did Mrs. Sterling glance at me coldly, before turning back to Sophia with a complete change in attitude. “Only a smart and beautiful girl like you is worthy of our Lucas. Don’t worry, the Sterling family only recognizes you as our daughter-in-law. I won’t bother with any other riffraff.” I lowered my head silently. Since my phone had been taken away, I didn’t even have anything to distract myself with. So the Sterling family wasn’t cold to everyone, it was just because I wasn’t their chosen one. “Mom, what are you saying?” The door to the ward opened, and a voice sounded in front of me. “The important thing now is to cure Sophia. I won’t be with such a vicious woman anyway.” As he spoke, I felt a gaze fall on me. I looked up. Two men were standing in front of me. One was Lucas, and the other… I looked over, but after meeting his eyes, my pupils contracted, and my body began to tremble uncontrollably. “I want to leave. I want to leave right now!” I pulled back the covers, intending to leave, but Lucas, thinking I didn’t want to donate my kidney to Sophia, forcefully pushed me back onto the bed. Because of Sophia’s worsening condition, Lucas had been quite anxious these past few days. “Alright, doctor, do an examination. If there’s no problem, arrange the surgery as soon as possible,” Lucas said to the man beside him. The man’s eyes swept over me with an ambiguous smile, and after finishing my examination, he went outside to talk with Lucas. Mrs. Sterling also left, reminding Sophia to call her after the surgery so she could come take care of her. With no one else around, Sophia dropped her hypocritical facade and walked to my bedside. Her finger traced along my waist as she smiled, “This kidney will soon belong to me.” I looked at her and coldly uttered two words: “Homewrecker.” Sophia snorted lightly. “In relationships, the one who isn’t loved is the third wheel. Blame yourself for being a toad lusting after swan meat, inserting yourself between Lucas and me.” I looked at her seriously and said, “It’s not too late to leave now, otherwise you’ll face retribution.” “Retribution? I’ve never believed in such things. But I should kindly remind you, you only have less than a day left to live,” Sophia smiled mockingly, looking at me like a victor. “I’ve bribed Dr. Ethan Reed who will perform your surgery. You’ll die on the operating table.” “And both your kidneys will be mine. Lucas will be mine too.” I turned my head indifferently. Sophia didn’t know. I couldn’t possibly die on the operating table. Because the person performing the surgery was my own brother. After Sophia finished talking to me, she went out to find Lucas. There were many security guards outside, so I had no chance of escaping. The next moment, the door was pushed open, and a gentle-looking man walked in. But having grown up with Ethan, I knew very well that his gentleness was just a facade, and he was actually a serial killer.

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