Category: English

“Eliza, would you come with me?” The wedding hall fell into complete silence as I stood there, stunned, with the ring halfway onto Eliza Monroe’s finger. Her long-lost love, Julian Hart, stood up yet again, shouting across the room at her. “Eliza, I’m here to take you away. Will you come with me?” Without a moment’s hesitation, Eliza pulled her hand away from mine, lifted her dress, and walked gracefully toward Julian. Tears glistened in her eyes, filled with an emotion I hadn’t seen before, as if Julian were the one she was meant to marry today. And there I stood, the actual groom, under the glaring spotlight, reduced to nothing more than a clown in a suit. With conviction, Eliza extended her hand to Julian, her voice ringing loud and clear for everyone to hear. “Julian, I will!” ###It couldn’t be more evident. Eliza Monroe, the woman I loved, had been swept away by her long-lost love, Julian Hart. But I didn’t feel angry. Instead, there was a strange sense of inevitability. After all, this was the third time in a month that my wedding had been interrupted by Julian. I let the ring fall from my hand, its imprint digging sharply into my palm. No one moved to stop them—not even Douglas and Vivian Monroe, who sat unmoving at the head table. I just stood there, watching their little drama unfold. The first time Julian crashed our wedding, I was furious. I shouted at him with every ounce of rage I had. This was supposed to be Eliza’s and my day. I had planned it meticulously, and I couldn’t let him ruin it. Red-eyed, I rushed to tackle Julian, intent on stopping him from stealing the woman who’d promised to be my wife. But our relatives blocked my path. Julian, standing protectively beside Eliza, smirked and said: “See? He flies off the handle at the smallest thing. He’s bound to hurt you one day.” “Be glad I’m testing this for you. Otherwise, think of how much you’d suffer in the future!” In that moment, the crowd turned against me. Their whispers painted me not as the groom but as the villain. The voices surrounding me scolded me, saying it was just a test, and I had overreacted. It ended with me handing out a few hefty checks, and Eliza reluctantly agreeing to marry me again. The second time, I didn’t shout. I didn’t lose my temper. I fell to my knees, holding Eliza’s dress, pleading with her not to leave. I loved her, and I recounted every single reason why. Julian pointed at me, disdainful. “Pathetic. You think you can manipulate Eliza with this show of weakness? You’re just a coward. What do you bring to the table besides clinging to her?” Once again, I was judged and condemned. Everyone there was one of Eliza’s friends or relatives. I had no family—no one to stand by me. The verbal onslaught came from every side, and Eliza simply nestled into Julian’s embrace, a sweet smile on her lips. Anger wasn’t enough. Begging wasn’t enough. Everything I did was wrong. So, I chose to do nothing. I stood in silence, watching. Julian’s voice cut through the room once more. “See? Blake Carrington doesn’t even care enough to fight for you. How could you marry a man like that?” “He’s failed all three tests. He’s not worth marrying.” Anger failed. Pleading failed. Indifference failed. What do you want me to do? Eliza’s eyes flicked back to me, and she threw the bouquet at my chest. “Blake! What are you doing just standing there? I’m being taken from you!” “You don’t care at all, do you? You never loved me!” Her expression was a mixture of rage and frustration. But I merely brushed off the flowers clinging to my suit, straightened my tie, and walked toward the emcee, taking the microphone from him. “Eliza, go. This wedding is over.” ###

When I finished speaking, the entire wedding venue fell into silence. Everyone assumed Eliza Monroe had me completely under her control—that no matter what she did, I wouldn’t end things. Eliza snapped out of her shock quickly, her eyes narrowing in rage. She grabbed a champagne glass and threw it at me, soaking my custom suit, one I had bought specifically for this day. “Blake Carrington, have you lost your mind?” she shouted. “How dare you say the wedding is off? You’ve got some nerve!” “You didn’t even pass a single test, and now you say something like that?” Tests? A single wedding costing tens of thousands of dollars. Dresses, photography, the emcee, flowers, venues. Three weddings, costing millions in total. I laughed bitterly. Every cent came from me. “Oh, so they were tests, not real weddings? Fine.” “All three weddings came to four hundred fifty thousand. Pay it back—can you do that?” Eliza’s face fell. She couldn’t possibly pay it back. Every dress, every piece of jewelry she owned—I paid for. The house her parents lived in, the car they drove, even their jobs at my company—they all came from me. She wouldn’t be able to come up with that money, no matter what. The luxurious life Eliza enjoyed was funded solely by me, but none of that mattered to her. Instead, she doubled down, eyes blazing as she grabbed another glass and hurled it at me. “Spending money on me is a privilege!” “What do you have besides a pile of cash? You think that will tie me down? And now you dare to demand it back? I’ll make you regret it!” With that, she stormed out, wedding gown trailing behind her, and Julian Hart followed close, casting a triumphant smirk my way as they exited. I watched them go, a hollow feeling taking root in my chest. Five years of love, and this was who she really was. I glanced down at the wedding band still pressed into my palm, its outline sharp against my skin, and finally, the tears fell. Eliza and Julian had been together before. When her family fell from wealth, Julian had walked away. That’s when I came in, loving her fiercely, supporting her through everything. When she accepted me as her partner, I thought my love had won. Then Julian came back from overseas, ruining everything in an instant. Eliza fell for him again without a second thought. She stopped caring about me, my objections—everything except my money. She only cared about Julian. She used my love as a pawn for his gain, trampling over my feelings and dignity. The relationship had been decaying for a long time. I’d just been too naive to see it. I reclaimed the money I had given to her parents as a bride price and told the emcee to clear the guests from the hall. I changed out of my soaked suit, grabbed my car keys, and prepared to head home when one of Eliza’s relatives grabbed my arm, sneering. “Blake, so when’s the next wedding?” he said, laughing at my expense. They thought it was a joke—that I would never truly leave her. I said nothing, walking straight to my car. There wouldn’t be another wedding. ###

I drove back to my house, determined to remove every trace of Eliza Monroe from my life. The house was filled with memories—proof that at one point, there had been love between us. As I looked around, my mind drifted back to my childhood. I was an orphan, with no family to care for me, scavenging for food on the streets. One day, I found a scrap of meat and held it up, triumphant. Suddenly, a starving dog lunged, grabbing it from me. Desperate, I fought it, wrestling the animal with everything I had. I sat against a dumpster, bruised and bleeding, chewing on what was left of that meat while watching children pass by, holding their parents’ hands and laughing with candy in their grasp. I wished I knew what that tasted like. A little girl in a princess dress noticed me. She let go of her mother’s hand and came over, holding out a piece of candy. “Here, this will make the pain go away,” she said, her smile radiant, angelic. That smile and that moment stayed with me, etched deeply into my heart. Years later, in college, I saw a woman who looked like the grown-up version of that little girl. Her name was Eliza Monroe, but she was already with Julian Hart. I buried my feelings, never daring to hope. When her family lost everything and Julian left, I stepped in. My company, Carrington Holdings, was just taking off, and I used every dollar I had to help her family. Her parents invited me to dinner, and that night, they sent Eliza into my arms. I knew they were after my money, but I had enough to spend a lifetime, and I was willing to use it for the woman I believed to be my angel. No matter what they wanted, I complied. I believed that if I loved her enough, I could take Julian’s place in her heart. I saw her as my sun, blinding myself to reality. But today, reality burned me to the core. I looked around the room, filled with remnants of our time together. Tears fell once more. I remembered the day we bought this house. Eliza had stood next to me, wearing a mask, her wide eyes sparkling as she gazed up at it and talked excitedly about the future. I had thought I’d won her heart completely. But she had probably been thinking of Julian even then. My phone buzzed with an alert—a hotel charge. Eliza didn’t have her own card; every expense went through mine. I knew exactly where she was: at The Grand Union Hotel, still in her wedding gown with Julian. Just hours earlier, I had been holding her hand, asking her if she’d marry me. How could the angel I once adored have turned into this? I sank onto the sofa, hands over my face, as tears came once more. Three days later, after packing up all the reminders of our relationship, I sat in the now-bare living room, waiting for the moving truck. The front door opened unexpectedly. Eliza walked in, laughing with Julian, their happiness like a knife in my heart. ###

Eliza froze when she saw the empty room. She pulled away from Julian, storming up to me. “Blake Carrington, what do you think you’re doing? Haven’t you caused enough trouble at the wedding?” she snapped. “How dare you turn our house into this? Are you out of your mind?” Julian, ever the actor, chimed in with mock regret. “Eliza told you, those weddings were just tests. I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been so concerned for her.” He shifted the blame neatly onto me, painting me as the unreasonable one. I stared at them, the smirk barely hidden on Julian’s face and the superiority in Eliza’s eyes, and I laughed. “Let me guess, I’m supposed to beg for your forgiveness?” “Should I apologize for being humiliated and then apologize again for the inconvenience?” Eliza didn’t catch the sarcasm, nodding as if satisfied. “If you’d just apologize properly, we might be able to work this out,” she said, looking me up and down before adding, “But like this? Never.” “Blake Carrington, we’re going to file for divorce tomorrow.” Eliza had used the threat of divorce before, and each time, I’d caved for the sake of love. Not this time. Julian, sensing my silence, egged me on. “See? He’s too proud, too weak. Can’t even apologize for his wife.” I chuckled, the absurdity of it all finally sinking in. If Eliza had been my wife in the true sense, I would have apologized for anything. I’d fought stray dogs for scraps; there was no humiliation I couldn’t endure. But she wasn’t my wife. She had just come from a hotel room with Julian, her face still flushed from whatever they’d done. And they expected me to apologize. “Fine, you want an apology?” I said, eyes locked on hers. “Tell me, Eliza, where were you these past two days?” Her face paled, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on her brow. She knew that without me, she was nothing. She tried to sound fierce. “I was at my parents’. What, I can’t visit them when I’m upset? At least Julian cares enough to check on me. Have you ever done that?” Even now, she was trying to manipulate me, turning my love against me. I pulled out my phone and held it up for her to see. “Look closely. The hotel room charge is right here. Still want to lie to me?” She slapped the phone out of my hand, shouting, “Hotel? I don’t know anything about that!” “Blake, if you’d just come to your senses, maybe I’d forgive you! Even if you leave, you’re leaving the house and the dowry. That’s my compensation for wasted years.” Compensation? For what? Since we started dating, she hadn’t spent a single cent of her own. Now, millions in wedding expenses down the drain because of Julian’s provocations, and she dared to demand money from me? I reached into my bag, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted, and tossed them at her feet. “Here’s your compensation.” “Trash belongs with trash. I hope you both have a long, miserable life together.”

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In the sixth year of our marriage, Jason cheated on me. I found a long, chestnut-colored hair on his underwear that didn’t belong to me. Huh, looks like he’s been having some fun. That bastard couldn’t even give me the decency of a seven-year itch excuse. I stormed into the living room and threw the hair into Jason’s bowl as he was having a late-night snack. Then, I packed my things as quickly as possible and called my best friend Rachel to help me move my luggage. After that, I left the home we had shared for six years without looking back. Jason just watched me coldly, not saying a word, let alone trying to stop me. “Congrats on escaping that hellhole, sis. Where should we go to celebrate tonight?” Rachel asked, driving her new G-Wagon with one hand while pushing her black sunglasses up her nose with the other.

I leaned back in my seat, staring blankly at the river under the bridge. My facade of strength and coolness was fading, and emotions were starting to take over. Jason and I had known each other for ten years, been in love for eight, and married for six. We had built everything from scratch, from having nothing to our company being on the verge of going public. We had seen so many broken marriages among our relatives and friends. I always believed that Jason and I were the perfect soulmates. The only flaw was that we had been sleeping in separate beds for all these years. But that was Jason’s choice. He said love was just love, the purest and most sacred human emotion. Anything done in the name of love was moral blackmail against love itself. I believed him, but now? A single strand of hair shattered my eight years of self-deception. “Damn it! Lily, if you dare cry, I swear I’ll drive this car straight into the river!” Rachel exclaimed dramatically. My carefully cultivated emotions instantly crumbled. I glared at her, annoyed. “Can you please act like a normal human being? I just got cheated on, can’t you let me wallow for a bit?” Rachel scoffed, twisting her mouth in disdain. “Remember when we were the two campus beauties back in law school? So many guys chasing after us, but you wouldn’t give them the time of day. Then you fell for Jason from the Finance department. What did he have going for him besides his looks?” “Being handsome is the biggest advantage. Even if he did nothing but lie in bed, just looking at his face was enough to make me happy.” Rachel let out a loud “Fuck!” and tossed her sunglasses into the backseat. “You’re hopeless. Think about it – he had a bombshell like you by his side for eight years and didn’t sleep with you. I bet he’s impotent.” I let out a cold laugh. If he was impotent, how could he cheat? Hiding hair in his underwear and playing such dirty games – I was utterly disgusted. “Maybe I’ve become ugly now, and he can’t get it up for me anymore.” Rachel’s jaw dropped in shock, and she reflexively slapped the steering wheel. “Damn that Jason! What kind of twisted ideas has he been feeding you? If I were a guy, I’d drag you to the backseat right now.” True friends are the real deal. “Just focus on your driving,” I spat, continuing to stare out at the river. It wasn’t until Rachel slammed on the brakes that I realized we weren’t at my villa in the south of the city. Jason and I had bought a villa there in my name. We had planned to invite his parents from the countryside to live with us after the New Year, but now it seemed that wouldn’t be happening. “A nightclub? It’s too noisy, I don’t want to go,” I said, looking at the large, flashing neon sign that read “Light Years” at the entrance. “Miss White, you’re here!” A tall, skinny young man with green hair, wearing tight pants and loafers, came out of the club and greeted Rachel intimately. Rachel turned off the engine and got out, tossing her keys to him from a distance. “Two tasks: first, get that beauty out of the passenger seat; second, park the car in the garage.” “You got it.” The green-haired young man caught the keys mid-air, opened the driver’s door, and sat down. Then he turned to look at me, leaning in closer. “Sister~” he called out, his voice dripping with charm and coquettishness. I pulled my coat tighter around me. “I’m getting out now.” Rachel saw how flustered I was and chuckled, hooking her arm around my neck as we walked in. It had been years since I’d been to a nightclub after marrying Jason. Just like I remembered, as soon as we pushed open the glass door that seemed like a barrier, deafening music flooded my eardrums. I frowned and turned to leave, but Rachel held me tight. I had no choice but to cover my ears and follow her inside.

We made our way through the crowd of wildly dancing people to a booth. Rachel ordered drinks with familiarity, and soon the table was filled with an array of colorful cocktails. “No men tonight, I’m here to keep you company. Here, Lily.” Rachel handed me a bottle of alcohol with a grand gesture, then grabbed one for herself and took a swig. I swirled the blue liquid in the bottle, wondering when drinks had become so pretty. I took a sip and licked my lips. Not bad, it was sweet and sour. It was more like an alcoholic beverage than actual liquor. Seeing me start to drink, Rachel burst into laughter. “Ladies, why drink alone? Want to play a game with us?” A cool-looking guy with a flashy thick chain around his neck and black gemstone earrings tilted his head and invited us. I glanced at the sofa next to us and shook my head. A bunch of kids who looked barely of age – what fun could that be? “My baby just got cheated on and isn’t in the mood. Maybe next time,” Rachel waved her hand, declining as well. “No way! Even a beauty like you gets cheated on? Congrats, sis, you’re free now.” The guy gave me a thumbs up. If it weren’t for his sincere expression that didn’t seem mocking, I would have smacked him with the bottle. He was congratulating me for being cheated on? How brain-dead do you have to be to say something like that? Seeing that we really weren’t interested, the guy shrugged and left. I leaned back on the sofa and took out my phone from my bag, turning on the screen. “Hmph, that bastard hasn’t even called or messaged once.” I angrily tossed my phone onto the seat next to me and kicked off my high heels. From the corner of my eye, I caught a burning gaze. I turned to look. It came from the table next to us, from a handsome guy sitting next to the chain-wearing guy from earlier. The guy was staring right at me, and when he saw me looking, he boldly raised an eyebrow instead of looking away. I rolled my eyes and turned away. He was pretty handsome, not much worse than Jason. But were young guys these days all so confident and sleazy? For a while after that, I could feel that unabashed, burning gaze from the next table every now and then. I really didn’t like the feeling and was about to get up and tell Rachel we should leave. Suddenly, the booming music that had been filling the air stopped, as if someone had hit pause. But immediately after, everyone started rushing towards the dance floor. I didn’t know what was happening and looked around in confusion. Then I saw the handsome guy from the next table who had been staring at me walk straight over, the corner of his lips curled up in a smile as he extended his hand to me. “You seem down today. It’s midnight now, want to go wild on the dance floor?” “Let’s go, Lily! It’s midnight, time to party!” Rachel jumped up from the sofa. “No thanks, I’ll wait for you here. We can leave after you’re done partying.” I shook my head in refusal. Rachel knew my personality well. Seeing my firm attitude, she didn’t push further and ran off to the dance floor herself. The handsome guy raised an eyebrow, withdrew his hand, and turned to head towards… the stage. So the DJ was this handsome! The guy was operating the turntables on stage, with the crazy crowd going wild on the dance floor in front of him. As I was staring at him curiously, unable to look away, he suddenly looked over at me and pointed his finger straight at me. Everyone on the dance floor turned to look at me, and I suddenly felt very uncomfortable and self-conscious. A few girls in matching outfits ran over and forcibly pulled me onto the dance floor, dancing around me. Oh god, this must be what they call “hype girls,” right? I stood there awkwardly among them, moving stiffly and feeling utterly embarrassed. People on the dance floor started snickering, and I angrily glared at the instigator on stage. But I saw that he also looked shocked, forgetting to DJ for a moment. It was as if he had never seen such an uncoordinated newbie at a club before. Luckily, Rachel saved me. She let out a loud yell, drawing everyone’s attention, and started swaying her hips. The music on stage started up again. People once again lost themselves in the frenzy of the atmosphere. Rachel was really getting into it, pulling out her hair clip and letting her long hair cascade down. Her chestnut-colored curls seemed to come alive, swaying with her movements – it looked amazing. Suddenly, my heart skipped a beat. In a flash of insight, I felt like I had grasped something. Chestnut-colored curls? Bathroom? Jason’s underwear? I pushed my way through the crowd in front of me, not caring about anything else, and rushed to Rachel’s side, grabbing her tightly. Rachel was startled and quickly stopped dancing. “Lily, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” I stared at her intently, licking my dry lips, and asked, “Rachel, the day before yesterday when Jason wasn’t home, after you showered at my place, did you use my hair dryer?” Rachel nodded, “Yeah, why? Did it go missing? I left it on top of the washing machine.” I looked at her for a long moment, then suddenly burst out laughing. “So it was you! The laundry basket next to the washing machine had Jason’s unwashed underwear in it. You must have shed some hair!” Jason hadn’t cheated on me! I had misunderstood him! Thinking about how I had thrown the hair into his bowl, I felt a pang of regret. Jason had severe germaphobia. Oh god, what had I done? I needed to go home right away. I needed to tell him that I had misunderstood him. He hadn’t betrayed me. It was all my fault for jumping to conclusions without thinking. I needed to apologize to him. “You keep partying, I have to go,” I said, letting go of Rachel and running towards the exit. The taxi dropped me off at the entrance of our neighborhood. It was only then that I realized I had left my phone and bag at the nightclub. Fortunately, the security guard recognized me and helped me pay for the taxi. I jogged into the complex, feeling guilty and excited as I ran towards our home. Just as I was about to turn the corner to our building, a gentle male voice stopped me in my tracks. The voice sounded crystal clear in the silent night. “Babe, why did you come here?” Jason! This voice had become a part of my life, but I had never heard Jason speak in such a tender and affectionate tone. For a moment, I thought Jason had seen me. But the female voice that followed completely shattered my illusion.

“I heard something was off in your voice on the phone, so I was worried and came to check on you. What’s wrong? Is she… upstairs?” “She left. She found out I betrayed her.” “How is that possible?” The woman seemed incredulous. “We always go to my place, and you clean up thoroughly afterward. How could she know?” “It’s all because of you,” Jason’s voice was husky, the same raspy tone he used when he could barely control himself while holding me. “You were too wild that day, and your hair… got stuck in my underwear. Olivia, I loved how you were that day. Come upstairs with me. She won’t be back tonight.” Jason’s voice was full of desire. But what shocked me most was the name Olivia. Jason’s girlfriend from eight years ago, so long ago that I didn’t recognize her voice at first. Ten years ago, when I fell for Jason, he had a girlfriend from his hometown. Somehow, they broke up two years later. I pursued Jason right after he became single. When I first got together with Jason, Olivia came to make a scene once, crying and causing a commotion outside our classroom. In the end, Jason came to pick me up and sternly warned her off. I never saw her again after that. “I can’t stay long. That idiot husband of mine will be back from overtime soon, and the kid is still sleeping. I need to hurry back.” Damn, I cursed inwardly. She has a family and a child, yet she’s out here cheating. “Olivia, don’t go. I want you, just once. I promise I’ll be quick.” Then, in the darkness, I heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down, followed by some indescribable impact sounds. I wanted to leave, but my feet seemed rooted to the ground, unable to move. With a low growl from Jason, Olivia let out a surprised gasp. Then everything went quiet, with only the panting of those two animals rising and falling. I felt nauseous. Eight years! So it wasn’t that Jason didn’t like sex, he just didn’t like having sex with me. My heart turned ice cold, and my whole body shook violently. The heartache made it hard to stand. I leaned against the wall and bent over. “Jason, pull out. You said just once, and I need to go,” Olivia said, breathlessly. “I’d never lie to you. I said once, and I’ll let you go soon.” “Haha, that was pretty quick indeed. Quite honest of you, big brother.” Suddenly, a mocking male voice sounded behind me. “Who’s there?!” Jason shouted sternly, with sounds of frantic movement in the darkness. I was startled and quickly turned around. In the darkness, I could only see a tall figure, unable to make out the face. Suddenly, a flashlight beam shone over. “Lily?” Jason’s voice trembled slightly, as if in disbelief. And I, following the light he shone, saw clearly who was behind me. It was the handsome DJ guy from the club!

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When Brandon Ashford’s old flame came back into his life, I took our son and flew to America. People said I didn’t even register on their radar, that I was nothing but a worthless, spoiled wife, hiding from a fight like an ostrich with its head in the sand. But someday, I’d walk tall and watch them all eat their words beneath my feet. 0Brandon’s high school sweetheart, Claire, is back. Back in senior year, he entered the Young Innovators Award and met Claire Emerson. I’d heard she was pretty, clever, outgoing, and came from an affluent family. The two of them were young, in love, and even planned to go to the same university. But things didn’t work out that way—Brandon was accepted to Harvard, but Claire… who knows what happened with her? I figured they broke up because of the distance. But then a mutual friend dropped the real story on me. “Jazz, didn’t you know? That girl tried to blackmail Brandon by threatening to end her own life if he went to Harvard! She actually tried to trap him into staying with her.” Blackmail? Threats? Giving up Harvard? I shook my head. This story sounded like something out of a cheesy romance novel. Brandon and I, meanwhile, were childhood friends. Our families had been partners in business for generations. Years ago, when my father’s mistress showed up, taunting my mom over the phone, my mom flew back to the U.S. in the middle of the night. That led me to apply to Harvard, where Brandon and I ended up in the same program. When I saw him again, I was taken aback by how much he’d grown into his looks. But strangely, I didn’t feel any of those romantic sparks. Our connection was more like an unspoken understanding—a bond that felt familiar, like the relationship between our parents. I’d thought my mom would divorce my dad, but she didn’t. She told me, “Love and marriage aren’t the same. We’ve been married for years, and we trust each other. We’re also tied together by shared businesses and a social network that isn’t easily untangled. And if that other woman’s showing up at our door, it just proves her stupidity. If your father had any intention of being with her, she wouldn’t have had to resort to that.” “But Dad still cheated,” I whispered, looking down. “You always told me, ‘Once a cheater, always a cheater.’” My mom just smiled knowingly. “Maybe so, but remember, that woman claimed your father was with her at Lakewood Hot Springs on the day he was actually in Hong Kong with your grandparents.” I blinked. My mind was spinning. “Jazz, no matter whom you marry—business partner or not—remember this: love clouds reason. Never act on impulse.” “Then why did you storm back to the States that time?” I asked, grinning. She laughed again. “Otherwise, how would I have gotten you to give up Charleston and go to Harvard?” 0

I’d been played. All my life, I’d dreamed of the romantic charm of Charleston, of living on a sprawling estate in the middle of a sea of lavender. But as the sole heir of the Eastwood Family business, I had to put in the effort if I wanted the freedom to live as I pleased. So, when Claire asked me to meet up, I agreed. She came bursting with excitement, eager to show me her memories with Brandon and their matching tattoos. She preened like a proud peacock, and I barely contained my laughter. “It’s rare to see a mistress be this bold,” scoffed my friend Erica, my childhood friend with a firecracker temper and a sharp tongue. “Bold?” Claire arched an eyebrow. “This is love. What’s bold about that? I came here to make you face reality, stop hiding, and pretending I don’t exist. Brandon told me I’m the one he loves, the one he cares about, the one he can’t live without. You two have nothing in common, yet you cling to the title of Mrs. Ashford? Why not just let him go? I’ll make sure Brandon gives you a generous settlement. You’re still young…” “Smack!” Erica’s face went red with fury, and her hand landed across Claire’s face. Claire blinked in shock, then clutched her cheek and screeched, “How dare you hit me?” Her shouting pierced the quiet of the private room, and curious staff couldn’t help peeking in to check if we needed assistance. I was stunned—not because Erica hit her, but because Claire was screaming like a madwoman, even reaching to grab Erica’s hair. And she actually had the nerve to say I was “clinging” to the title of Mrs. Ashford? That I was just a housewife? “Tell Brandon to ask for a divorce if that’s what he wants. I’ll walk away on the spot,” I said calmly, letting the chaos simmer down. Claire looked taken aback. “All this, and you’re still holding on? I didn’t realize you were so stubborn.” She gave a smug smile. “Fine, I’ll have Brandon come to you, then. Just don’t cry and refuse when he asks for it.” I nodded, pulled Erica to her feet, and left. “Hey, you haven’t paid!” Claire called out. I glanced at the untouched tea, totaling over $400. Smiling, I replied, “The owner is a friend of mine, so it’s on my tab. If you can’t finish, feel free to take it home.” 0

In the days that followed, Brandon never mentioned a word about divorce. Everything seemed normal—except he started coming home a bit later than usual. I asked him about it, and he said an old friend wanted to start a new project and was looking for investors. He was still considering it. I asked him to send over the details. Sure enough, when I opened the file, Claire Emerson was listed as one of the founders. And after looking through the pitiful revenue and chaotic financials, I just shook my head. Here she was, trying to get investors for this disaster of a company, in an economy where everyone else was tightening their belts. She had some nerve. “What do you think?” Brandon asked. I hadn’t let on yet that Claire had already come to see me. We’d been married for years now, and we already had a son. We were even considering trying for a girl. A nice, balanced family. But here comes Claire, dropping back into our lives, just as my mother would call it—a disruption to what was really a business alliance between our families. Childhood friends, families with deeply interwoven ties—it was complicated. So complicated that a single change could pull everything apart. I just couldn’t believe Brandon would cheat, let alone get a divorce. “I think it’s best to be cautious,” I replied. “Since you’re more familiar with this field, you should handle it.” Relieved, I handed him a bowl of special soup I’d made for his stomach issues. He took it with a smile, not needing to ask what it was. The next day, I came to the office with a fully prepared proposal. I’d hardly been in the office recently, with us trying for another child, so the long-time employees looked at me with surprise, clearly curious. The newer employees didn’t even know who I was. Just as I reached Brandon’s office, I heard Claire’s familiar voice, pleading, “Brandon, please, you’ve got to help me. This is my dream!” Brandon didn’t reply. I knocked and opened the door. Claire was sitting next to him on the sofa, casually leaning close. Her low-cut dress practically invited the world to see her bra. I ignored her, calmly setting my papers on the desk. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything?” “Not at all, babe! This is Claire, the one I told you about,” Brandon replied quickly, standing up like he’d been shocked and moving to my side. I caught the flash of irritation in Claire’s eyes as she looked innocently at Brandon. “Jazz, you’re gorgeous! I’m surprised he never mentioned you.” Right. As if my existence was something she had to be “informed” about. After all, she managed to walk right in, didn’t she? Brandon looked uncomfortable, and I smirked. “Since when do people talk about their families with strangers?” I handed him a thermos. “I heard you have a drinking event tonight, so I made this for you. I’ve got plans to meet Mrs. Young for tea later.” He smiled gratefully; he didn’t even need to open it to know what was inside. But Claire didn’t let it go. “Oh, I’ll be at that dinner too! Jazz, what’s in the thermos? Could I try some?” Brandon frowned, setting the thermos aside. “This isn’t something just anyone should drink, Claire.” “Is it some kind of miracle hangover remedy?” She laughed lightly, pouting, “I thought all those housewives making home remedies was a soap opera trope, but I guess it’s real after all…” Neither of us laughed, and the room grew tense. Brandon’s grandmother, after all, was a well-known herbalist, and she’d created that particular recipe just for his stomach. Obviously, Claire had no idea. I sighed, realizing that this woman didn’t seem to have much upstairs. Nothing about her added up, and she wasn’t at all the type I’d imagine Brandon would like. With anyone else, he’d probably have already blown up at them. But for Claire, his patience seemed endless. After an uncomfortable silence, he looked at her with an unreadable expression. “Jazz knows a lot about the food industry, Claire. If you really want to go forward with this, why don’t you talk it over with her?” Huh? I was surprised. I could see why he wouldn’t want to reject her outright, but what was this about food? According to the file, her company was all about couples’ apps, nothing to do with the restaurant industry. But Claire missed my surprise and went on, oblivious. “Brandon, do you really think that someone who spends all her time having lunches and afternoon teas has industry knowledge? This is different. Plus, I’m opening a cat café targeting young professionals and students…” She looked at me with a challenging gleam in her eye. “You and I can handle the business discussions, Jazz. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your busy schedule of lunch dates.” I almost laughed. Was she serious? She couldn’t have done any real research if she thought she could look down on me like this. I, Jasmine Eastwood, eldest of the Eastwood Family and a Harvard economics PhD, “just” did lunches and teas? Did she have any idea how much a class taught by me would cost? I stared at her, amused by her smugness, even as I saw a hint of irritation in Brandon’s face. Why was he holding back? Was it because of his lingering feelings for her? He glanced at me apologetically. “I have a meeting soon, Claire. Talk to Jazz about it, as I suggested.” With that, he answered his phone and hurried out, leaving just the two of us. Claire dropped her act, sneering at me. “You really are something else, putting on this whole act to get his sympathy, showing up with soup and your pretty face. But Brandon and I are in this together. You? You can cook him soup. A housekeeper could do the same. Aside from spending his money, what else can you do?” “Talk business with you, obviously,” I said dryly, nodding toward the documents on the desk. “Brandon’s orders.” “Oh, come on,” she scoffed, her voice dripping with contempt. “He’s just being polite, letting you save face so you don’t accuse him of transferring your assets to me. You think he respects you? He’s just afraid you’ll embarrass him and drag the company down.” I stared at her, hardly believing her arrogance. The fact that she felt so comfortable speaking about “transferring assets” showed me she really didn’t know much. My silence made her bolder. “Brandon is so good to me, and not just with this. Tonight, at that big event, he’s taking me with him. Did you know I’m the first woman he’s brought along? It shows I’m the one he truly loves. You’re just sad, really. Married to him all these years and he’s never invited you. Poor thing…” She looked at me triumphantly. “It must be humiliating, huh? Go ahead, cry if you want to. Failed love, a failed marriage—it’s not the end of the world. You’re still pretty enough, and even if your family background’s not as great, Brandon would still give you a decent payout. Just let go. If you make a scene, you might not even get alimony.” I couldn’t help myself; I burst out laughing. I wasn’t just amused by her ridiculous logic but by her complete inability to understand what mattered to me. Love, feelings—those were trivial. What I cared about was control, and I had plenty of it. My career, my finances, my status—and yes, even my marriage. I had a child with Brandon, after all. And the fate of her so-called project was entirely in my hands. I looked at her blandly. “Stop dreaming. That glitch-riddled app or your cat café? Neither is getting any funding from us.” But Claire smiled, undeterred. “Jazz, don’t kid yourself. If I’m here, and if Brandon’s letting me ask in front of you, then it’s important to him. He’ll say yes.” I watched her saunter out and opened the window, letting the strong scent of her perfume blow away. With it went any uncertainty I might have felt. That night, I waited for Brandon to come home. At four in the morning, he stumbled in, reeking of alcohol and perfume—Dior J’adore, which I’d never worn. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Williams, shook her head in disapproval as she helped him into the bedroom. “I’ll make some sobering soup for him, Jazz,” she offered, seeing my expression. “Sweetheart,” he mumbled, trying to pull me into a hug. “Sit down. We need to talk,” I said, brushing him off. Claire had already confronted me, hinting at a romance and asking me to divorce him. His arm went stiff, but all he did was slur, “I love you, babe,” before passing out. I sighed. You can’t wake someone who’s faking sleep. The next morning, he’d already left for a sudden business trip to Seattle. But things took a turn when Mrs. Williams came to me, looking worried. “Jazz, I think Evan has a fever.” 0

I hurriedly called for a driver, and we rushed Evan to the hospital with Mrs. Williams by my side. Thankfully, it wasn’t flu season, so the private hospital was fairly empty, and the admission process went smoothly. I stayed with Evan until he fell asleep, then handed him over to Mrs. Williams so I could grab a quick bite in the small waiting room. Erica, who’d shown up by then, was furious. She slapped the table in frustration. “Jazz, I’m telling you—there’s something going on with Brandon and that woman. Call him right now. I don’t care about any business deal; he needs to get back here! Let’s see if he values money more than you and his son.” “It’s hardly comparable,” I replied, trying to keep my calm. Despite my own frustration, I’d been holding back. “He can’t hide forever; we can wait a couple of days.” “But Evan is sick!” “Evan has a doctor. It’s not as if Brandon’s one himself.” “See, that’s the problem!” Erica groaned, exasperated. “You’ve let him get too comfortable, Jazz. You’re way too good to him!” “Am I?” I chuckled to myself. This wasn’t about being good to Brandon; it was about protecting my son and myself. I wasn’t about to explode without solid evidence and give Claire—or anyone else—the satisfaction of seeing me unravel. Making a scene would just leave me looking petty and hysterical. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure he’s alone,” Erica muttered darkly, giving me a pointed look. “I bet he’s on this trip with her.” “Maybe not,” I said, finishing my cake and motioning toward the door. “Look—speak of the devil.” “What?” Still steaming, Erica whipped open the door and saw Claire approaching. Without missing a beat, she let loose. “You must have a bloodhound’s sense of smell to sniff out an opportunity like this!” Claire didn’t flinch. If anything, she smiled pleasantly, putting down a gift-wrapped drone on the table. “I heard Evan wasn’t well, and with Brandon out of town, I thought I’d drop by to visit and bring him a little gift.” She glanced at me, eyes twinkling. “Rough night, Jazz? Looks like you didn’t get much sleep. I guess Brandon told you he’s decided to invest in my cat café?” “Excuse me?” Her words took me by surprise, but I kept my face neutral. “He didn’t mention that. But if he plans to make any decisions, he’ll need the approval of the majority shareholder.” I pushed the drone back toward her. “Take this with you. My son doesn’t need your gifts.” “Really?” She feigned shock, flashing a syrupy smile. “Funny, he seemed to like the sneakers, the overalls, and the Lego set that Brandon picked out with me. Didn’t he tell you?” Her words hit me like a punch, tearing down any patience I had left. I felt a surge of heat, and in that instant, every shred of composure shattered. All the principles of self-control and dignity flew out the window. She had no right to even look at my son, much less give him anything! I was shaking as I grabbed the box and hurled it at her.

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My son Noah is three years old, but he doesn’t resemble my husband at all. My father-in-law, Mr. Leonard Carter, became suspicious and took Noah for a DNA test without telling anyone. The test results? No biological connection between them. Furious and humiliated, Mr. Carter yelled at me, even threatening to harm both me and my son. Then my husband Eric hit me, shouting, “You shameless woman! You’ve made me raise another man’s child for three years!” But then I revealed another DNA report—the one showing that Eric and Leonard Carter weren’t biologically related either. They were stunned as I chuckled, “Looks like it’s not so clear who’s really unrelated in this family…” — When Mr. Carter called, I was swamped with work at Hamilton & Co. Enterprises. His voice blared through the phone, “Jocelyn Carter, get home now! Or don’t blame me when your dirty secrets come out!” Before I could respond, he hung up, leaving me confused. I finished my tasks, grabbed my bag, and rushed home. As soon as I opened the door, he was there, sitting stiffly on the couch. Two papers were spread out on the table in front of him. I took off my shoes and asked, “Dad, what’s the emergency?” He sneered at me. “You really don’t know what you’ve done? Do I need to spell it out?” Frustration bubbled up inside me. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Just tell me.” He slammed the papers into my face. “Look for yourself! We hit rock bottom when Eric married you.” I glanced down and saw the bold text on the report: No biological relationship. The names listed were Leonard Carter and Noah Carter. I was shocked, realizing Mr. Carter had taken Noah for a paternity test. Anger flared within me as I retorted, “Dad, you’ve been saying Noah doesn’t look like Eric since he was born. I didn’t think much of it because Eric never complained. But you went behind our backs to get a DNA test—he’s only three!” Mr. Carter ignored my words, shouting, “And what’s wrong with that? If I hadn’t done it, who knows how long you would’ve kept us in the dark? Tell me—who’s his father? You’ve had us raising someone else’s kid for three years! My son is too trusting; if I weren’t sharp, you would’ve fooled us forever.” I tried to stay calm. “Dad, Noah is Eric’s son, and he’s your grandson. I haven’t betrayed anyone. There has to be something wrong with that report!” Mr. Carter’s rage escalated. He threw his cup to the floor, pointing a trembling finger at me. “You’re still lying! I took him to St. Vincent’s Medical Center myself and watched them draw his blood. Do you think I faked it? We can go again if you don’t believe me!” I didn’t know how to respond. Just then, Mrs. Helen Carter entered with groceries. Seeing the tense scene, she asked, “What’s going on? I just stepped out, and now it’s chaotic in here. What are you two fighting about?” Mr. Carter shot back, “You picked her for Eric. Look what she’s done—letting us raise someone else’s kid for three years! Where were your eyes back then?”

Mrs. Carter froze, her gaze landing on the report on the floor. I saw panic flash across her face, but before I could react, she slapped me. “Noah isn’t our grandson? How could you do this? Eric has been nothing but good to you! How could you betray us like this?” Mr. Carter chimed in. “Call your parents! I want to know what kind of people raised such a daughter. How dare you do something so disgraceful!” I struggled to keep my cool. “I’m telling you for the last time—Noah is Eric’s son. If you don’t believe me, wait for Eric to come home. He’ll take another DNA test with Noah, and we’ll settle this once and for all.” Mr. Carter glared but stayed silent, while Mrs. Carter yelled, “You’re acting shamelessly, still insisting on your innocence. Even if Eric comes back, he won’t forgive you! Why another test when the answer is clear? If Noah were Eric’s son, he’d have to be related to Mr. Carter. Do you think the hospital is helping you lie to us?” Just then, Noah appeared from his room. “Grandpa, Grandma, Mom, why are you fighting? Is dinner ready?” Seeing him, Mr. Carter snapped, “Who are you calling Grandpa and Grandma? We don’t even know whose kid you are. Get out!” Noah, confused by the sudden hostility, ran to me in tears. His crying only irritated Mr. Carter more. He yanked Noah away from me and gripped his shoulders. “What are you crying for? You’re not welcome here. Go find your real dad—get out of our house!” Mrs. Carter stood frozen, saying nothing. Seeing Noah’s face turn red, I pried Mr. Carter’s hand off him and held him close. Tears streamed down my face. “Let’s wait for Eric. He’ll know if Noah is his son.” Finally, Mr. Carter released Noah, shot me a disdainful look, and stomped back to his room. I took Noah to our bedroom and quickly texted Eric about everything that happened. His reply was just four cold words: I’m on my way. That brief message filled me with dread. Eric arrived around midnight. Hearing the front door open, I covered Noah and went to meet him. All my pent-up frustration spilled out. “Do you know what your dad did to Noah today? He nearly choked him! Are you even going to say something?” “Can you give it a rest? I just got home. Let me breathe, will you?” One look at his detached expression made my heart sink. The DNA report lay on the table, but he didn’t seem interested in it at all. He was ready to accept it without question. By now, both Mr. and Mrs. Carter had joined us. Mrs. Carter spoke first, “Eric, thank God you’re back. If you’d been any later, our family would’ve fallen apart! Ask her whose child she brought into this house.” Mr. Carter stood there, furious but silent. Finally, Eric broke the silence, “Where’s the child?”

He called Noah “the child,” not even using his name. That stung because I realized he didn’t believe Noah was his son. I took a deep breath. “Eric, we’ve been married for four years and known each other for six. Don’t you know what kind of person I am? If you won’t believe me, at least trust Noah.” Eric replied, “Four years doesn’t mean anything. Besides, Noah has never looked like me. Everyone says it. What else can I think?” I was left speechless, realizing I had no way to reason with them. “Fine. If none of you believe Noah is your son, let’s go to the hospital for another DNA test. Right now. I’ll get Noah.” As I turned to go to our room, Eric grabbed my arm. “Enough! You really want to drag this to the hospital? Aren’t you ashamed of this mess?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Why would I be ashamed? I have a clear conscience. If you’re so sure, let’s confirm it with another test.” In the silence of the night, my words hung in the air with a weight I hadn’t felt before. Eric looked ready to argue, but Mrs. Carter interrupted. “Why go to the hospital? We have a report right here! Or is Jocelyn claiming her own husband and father-in-law are framing her? That’s rich—how long have you been setting us up, Jocelyn?” Her accusation, so irrational and cruel, shocked me. I had never seen Mrs. Carter so cold and heartless. Realizing nothing I said would make a difference, I clenched my fists. After a long silence, Eric finally picked up the DNA report, barely glanced at it, and tossed it at me. “It’s all here in black and white. Noah isn’t Dad’s blood relative. If he’s my son, he’d have to be related to him. Anything to add? Or are you suggesting the hospital faked this?” I bit my lip. “I don’t know what went wrong with that report, but there’s definitely something…” I bit my lip, feeling the tension in the air. “I can’t pinpoint what’s wrong with this report, but something definitely is. If you trust me even a little, let’s have Noah take another test. We can clear this up.” Eric scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Why would I believe you over my own father?” His words hit me hard, freezing me in place. I knew he wouldn’t take my side, but hearing him say it stung more than I expected. “So, what happens now?” I asked, my voice shaky. “Are you going to kick us out of this house?” Mr. Carter exploded, shooting up from his chair. “So you admit it! I knew Eric made a mistake marrying you. Raising another man’s child for three years! How are you going to repay us for that?” Mrs. Carter chimed in, “Exactly. I treated you and Noah like family, only to find out I was being deceived. Do you even feel any shame?” I couldn’t hold back anymore. “When did I admit to anything? You’re just throwing accusations without any evidence. What do you want from me?” Smack! Eric’s hand struck my face in a sharp slap. He glared at me, rage boiling over. “I’m giving you one last chance to tell the truth. Who is Noah’s father? If you don’t speak up, I’ll make sure everyone in town knows exactly what you’ve done.” I rubbed my stinging cheek, defiance flooding my voice. “Go ahead and spread the word. I have nothing to hide.” Eric yanked my collar, venom dripping from his words. “You think you can play me for a fool? How long has this been going on? I should have known better than to marry someone like you!” I closed my eyes, feeling defeated. “Fine. Let’s get a divorce. I’ll take Noah since none of you care about him anyway.” The mention of divorce seemed to push Eric over the edge. “Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Take your illegitimate child and leave. Get out! I never want to see either of you again. I should have gotten rid of him at birth.” I was shocked. I had never heard Eric say anything so cruel before. Before I could respond, Mrs. Carter stormed into our bedroom, tossing my belongings into the hallway. The noise startled Noah awake. He stumbled out of his room and, seeing Eric, ran to him. “Daddy! You’re back! I missed you…” But before he could finish, Eric shoved him away. Noah crashed against the edge of the table, and I saw blood trickle from his forehead. I gathered Noah into my arms, my heart breaking as he sobbed. “Eric! He’s just three years old! How could you do this?” Eric’s expression was stone cold. “Why should I care? I don’t even know who he is. If I didn’t hurt him more, it was out of pity. You have no right to judge me.” The room fell silent. I was seeing this family’s true colors. Mr. Carter pointed toward the door. “Get out. You and your brat don’t belong here.” Mrs. Carter threw my ID on the floor. “Didn’t you hear him? Leave, and take your bastard with you!” I wiped Noah’s tears away, still holding him close. I took one last look around the room and said, “Eric, just know this will come back to haunt you.” With that, I carried Noah out. Even as the door closed behind us, their hateful words echoed in my ears, each one sharper than the last. After taking Noah to St. Vincent’s Medical Center for stitches, I rented a room at The Briarwood Inn for the night. He eventually fell asleep, his little face so innocent and unaware of the chaos around him. I couldn’t shake the thought of how he had no genetic ties to Mr. Carter. Grandparents and grandchildren share some DNA, so something didn’t add up. After some thought, I decided to head to Memorial Public Hospital to ask a few questions. The next day, after dropping Noah off at Little Pines Preschool, I went to the hospital. While waiting, I looked over a chart about blood types and heredity and noticed something odd. I remembered the health reports of Mr. and Mrs. Carter. Both were type O, which meant their children should also be type O. But Eric’s last screening—one I had helped him fill out—showed him as type A. It hit me like a ton of bricks. How could that be possible? I froze for a moment, then it clicked—Mrs. Carter knew. That’s why she was so desperate to get me out of the family and block any retesting for Eric and Noah. She was hiding something. A laugh bubbled up. It felt like a twist from some soap opera, the kind of story you’d never believe could actually happen. If Mr. Carter and Eric discovered this, the entire family would implode. After everything they’d put me and Noah through, I was determined to make things right. With a new sense of purpose, I headed to Brooks & Wallace Law Firm to sort out my finances and finalize the divorce paperwork. Besides getting Eric to sign, there was one more thing I needed to do.

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Today was the first day after my courthouse wedding with Celeste Harper, and she hadn’t come home all night. Yet, there she was, clear as day, on her childhood friend Liam Everett’s social media. A post appeared around midnight—a photo of them leaning close together. The caption read: “I knew that no matter what, one call and you’d be right by my side.” Content Celeste finally came back around noon after staying out all night. When she saw me sitting on the couch, she didn’t say a word. The silence grew so tense that I finally had to speak up. “Where were you last night?” With an annoyed expression, she replied, “I’m exhausted. Can we talk tomorrow?” I looked around at all the red-and-white wedding decorations and couldn’t help but feel a bit of self-mockery. Celeste—beautiful, smart, practically perfect. She’s a senior executive at a major corporation, with looks, status, and charm to spare. Everyone says I was lucky to get her, that I’m the one who “married up.” I’d always held onto the memories of us, all the good she’d done for me. I’d tried so hard to be the best boyfriend, the best husband I could be. But now that we’re officially married, I just want out. I didn’t reply to her. Instead, I sent a message to everyone who’d known we were getting married. They scolded me, and my family tried to talk sense into me. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone the real reason. Only my closest family knew, and after their initial anger faded into silence, they eventually nodded in support. That night, I went through more than I could process. I didn’t look at Celeste, and she didn’t care to ask, heading off to her room. I packed my suit for the next day neatly, took down all the decorations, and threw them in the trash. If I was leaving, I didn’t need the “newlywed home.” As I was about to leave, I glanced at her room. Since we’d just moved in, we hadn’t been sleeping in the same room yet. I paused a long moment, then left. On the way out, I texted her: “Let’s get a divorce. I’m leaving.” I put my stuff down where I was going, turned off my phone, and went to sleep. What might come next wasn’t even on my mind.

I slept until evening. When I turned on my phone, I saw over twenty missed calls from Celeste and a stream of messages on WhatsApp. The first few were sharp and questioning, but later, her tone grew softer. “What are you doing? We just got married!” “Say something! Don’t just ignore me. Where are you?” … “Where are you, babe?” “Can we please meet and talk this over?” I blocked all her contacts and slept alone till the next day. When I woke, a loud knock came at my door. I deliberately took my time to open it. Celeste stood there, looking exhausted, but the second she saw me, it was as if a light had turned back on in her eyes. “Gabe, can we please stop this?” Hearing her words felt like a cruel joke. What right did she have to ask me to stop this? She saw me staring in silence, and finally sighed, reaching for my hand. “Let’s go home, alright? Don’t do this. I’m really tired.” Her eyes were soft, pleading, but I pulled my hand free. “Miss Harper, are you here to finalize the divorce?” “And I’m not playing around. Please take this divorce seriously.” Right in front of her, I grabbed a disinfectant wipe and scrubbed where she’d touched me. She looked deeply hurt, mouth open as if to speak, but she stayed silent.

“Celeste, I suggest you stop making things so messy. After all, our families have always been close.” Her expression was one of pained innocence. “You canceled the wedding ceremony without telling me. I had to ask everyone why it hadn’t started.” “A crowd gathered, pointing and whispering, and now I have to chase you to come back with me. I’m exhausted. I found out about everything only after seeing your message, and you couldn’t even be bothered to tell me directly?” “Is it my fault you didn’t check your phone? You’re that busy?” “Funny how you’re not busy enough to run off with someone else—and take pictures!” She looked at me, hurt but determined. “Guess they were right,” she said. “A dirty mind only sees filth.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’m the one with a dirty mind. So when my own wife’s in bed with someone else, should I assume they’re just playing a game?” Celeste’s mouth opened to say something, but she stayed silent. Yesterday, seeing her like this would’ve made me want to hold her tight, tell her it was all okay. “Let’s put off the divorce discussion until later. My parents are waiting for us for lunch,” she added. “Aunt Rebecca and Uncle Sam are there too.” Hearing that, I froze. Her parents had always been good to me. Realizing how harsh I’d been, I reluctantly nodded and followed her back to her parents’ house. The moment we walked in, her dad greeted me warmly. I’d expected anger or blame, but there was nothing of the sort.

I felt out of place sitting in their living room. When I offered to help Aunt Rebecca in the kitchen like always, she waved me off. “Just relax, Gabe. Lunch is almost ready.” Uncle Sam and Aunt Rebecca acted like nothing had happened. Celeste even brought me a plate of my favorite fruit, her eyes twinkling with a smile. A strange guilt tugged at me, but it didn’t change my decision to end things. “What’s with the cold shoulder?” she asked, watching me closely. “I’m here to end this, Celeste. This is the last time I’ll be in your parents’ house.” She turned pale, biting her lip, trembling slightly. Silence filled the room until lunch was ready, and Aunt Rebecca urged me to eat. Celeste kept her head down while Uncle Sam sensed the tension and tried to lighten the mood. “Look at you, Gabe. You’re looking sharper than ever!” he said, chuckling. “Celeste, you’re a lucky woman!” I opened my mouth to correct him, but Celeste pinched my sleeve under the table, giving me an embarrassed look. It was clear she hadn’t told her parents about us. I felt a sudden, overwhelming sadness. Her parents had always treated me with kindness, so I’d tried to do the same for Celeste, supporting her through every little thing, even waiting with hot food if she worked late. But it was never me on her mind.

As I thought about it, my grip on my bowl tightened, my knuckles whitening. Aunt Rebecca noticed and nudged Celeste to serve me a dish. Celeste gave her mother an annoyed look and reluctantly plopped a shrimp onto my plate. I’m allergic to seafood. After all this time, she didn’t even know. From that moment on, I barely tasted a thing. That shrimp stayed untouched on my plate, like a neon sign. After we finished, I thanked Aunt Rebecca and Uncle Sam. “Thanks for the lovely meal,” I said, trying to keep steady, “but I need to make something clear. Celeste and I are separated. I’m sorry to disappoint you.” They looked stunned, and Celeste gripped her fists tightly. Before they could speak, the doorbell rang, and Celeste glanced at me, her eyes dark, before heading to answer. I had a sinking feeling about who it might be.

Sure enough, the voice that greeted Celeste from the doorway was all too familiar—Liam Everett, her childhood friend. She called out cheerfully. “Hey, Liam! What’s for lunch? Smells amazing in here!” Liam froze a second when he saw me but quickly gave a polite nod. “Ah, Gabe’s here, too. That explains it.” He slipped off his shoes and set a gift on the table, making himself at home, even pulling out a chair to sit between us. Like he belonged there more than I did. I glanced down and saw them both wearing matching slippers—the same pair I’d noticed her wearing recently. I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. Liam broke the silence, glancing between us. “What’s with the mood in here?” Celeste shot me a warning look. Uncle Sam and Aunt Rebecca kept their heads down, focused on their food. I looked straight at Liam and spoke, my voice calm and clear. “Celeste and I are done. The divorce papers aren’t signed yet, but hey, feel free to go after her.” Celeste threw her chopsticks on the table. “Gabe, enough! I told you, he’s like a brother to me. You’re the one making it something else!” And just like that, I knew what I had to do.

I stood up and brushed off the imaginary dust from my shoulders, barely giving Liam a glance. “Aunt Rebecca, Uncle Sam,” I said with a slight smile, “thank you for the lovely meal. You’re kind to have me, but I don’t think I belong here anymore. Please, enjoy the rest of your lunch.” They walked me to the door, with Aunt Rebecca’s voice thick with unspoken words. I waved goodbye to them, knowing the only two people in that house who genuinely cared for me were them. Once outside, I sped off to my friend’s place. This friend had helped with every part of the wedding preparations, going above and beyond. Now, he deserved to hear the truth. By the time I reached his place, he was waiting for me with a look of sympathy. I sat across from him, explaining the situation carefully. Though I tried to leave out the ugliest parts, he caught on quickly. With a heavy sigh, he clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Man, I knew that woman wasn’t good news. But hey, this is your fresh start. I got some friends to introduce you to.” We shared a laugh, a few drinks, and finally, I was able to breathe. The next day, when I got to work, a couple of colleagues came over, asking if I had wedding treats. After all, I’d taken leave to get married. It felt strange to say anything, so I just laughed it off, dodging their questions as best as I could. For the next few days, I went out of my way to avoid Celeste. I didn’t think it would be that easy, but it was. Eventually, I sent the divorce papers to her email, though she didn’t respond. It didn’t matter. I was moving forward—she’d find her own way. After work, I grabbed my takeout and headed downstairs, only to spot a woman in a red dress waiting outside, holding a bouquet of red roses that matched her perfectly. People passing by were glancing her way. The sight brought back a flood of memories—she was just like that the first time I saw her. It had been junior year, at a party organized by some friends. The moment Celeste Harper walked in, she became the center of my universe. I stood there, spellbound, unable to think straight. Lost in thought, I didn’t realize she was walking toward me, roses in hand, eyes soft and intent. She was impossible to ignore when she looked like that, all glowing.

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After five years of marriage, my wife Vera returned from a six-month trip abroad, bringing her first love Nolan back home with her. Vera was already three months pregnant, and Nolan, with a thick skin, said he was worried I couldn’t take good care of Vera and wanted to temporarily stay at our house. I refused, and Vera cursed me for being ungrateful. She glared at me with disgust, seemingly forgetting that I was the one who let her live in the lap of luxury, spending money like water. Did this shameless family think they could ride on my neck and become the masters? This time, I’ll let them feel what it’s like to fall from cloud nine! I smiled and called my secretary, “Draft a divorce agreement immediately. I want to make the pretty boy and the gold digger leave empty-handed.” My wife, who had been traveling for half a year, told me last night that she was coming back. I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep all night. Early in the morning, I asked Mrs. Lee to prepare a table full of Vera’s favorite dishes. The front door was pulled open from the inside, and Vera was carefully held by the man beside her as they swaggered in front of me. I looked at the two overly intimate people in shock, my gaze falling on Vera’s slightly protruding belly. “Honey, you’ve become more handsome in the half year we haven’t seen each other.” I stared at her with a dark face, anger rising. Vera seemed to sense my angry emotions and immediately let go of the man’s hand. She hurriedly came to my side and acted coquettishly, “Honey, you know you can’t perform in that area, right?” “Nolan is a top graduate with a good background. Most importantly, we know each other well, so the child born will be reassuring, right?” “You wouldn’t want me to suffer through IVF treatment, would you?” Vera’s words made me choke with anger. She actually made cheating on me sound so fresh and innocent. I clenched my fists tightly, wanting to punch Vera in the face. Nolan, who had been standing behind her, rushed forward with concern, pulling Vera behind him. He smiled sycophantically at me, “Mr. An, I’ve heard about your situation from Vera. It’s not shameful.” “Vera and I have known each other since childhood. Even if the three of us live together in the future, I can accept it.” I was burning with anger, but Vera looked at Nolan with tender affection, “Nolan is always so considerate.” Hearing Vera’s tender voice, I stood there stunned. In our five years of marriage, when had she ever been like this to me? Vera nestled into Nolan’s arms like a little bird, pointing at the room upstairs, “We’ll live there from now on.” Watching the two of them go upstairs, I clenched my fists tightly. Soon, the driver came in carrying three large suitcases. Close behind them were Vera’s parents. They walked past me with cold faces, as if they hadn’t seen me, and quickly went upstairs. Since it was so lively upstairs, I decided to go take a look too. I saw Vera caressing her belly and acting coquettishly with her parents, “I could have kept it from you, but you’re not supposed to tell anyone during the first three months of pregnancy. Nolan was also concerned about my safety.” Seeing Vera’s behavior, my heart ached terribly. In our five years of marriage, whenever I had disagreements with her parents, she always stood on their side, complaining that her parents were old and couldn’t get angry, asking me to be more tolerant. I always thought that was just her nature. Women are delicate, it’s nothing. Until this moment, seeing her protecting Nolan, I realized I had always been a clown. Nolan naturally took Vera’s mother’s hand, “Auntie, you know I’ve liked Vera since we were kids.” “My feelings for Vera are genuine. I hope Uncle and Auntie can understand.” Vera’s mother’s face relaxed a bit, then she turned to look at me with a frown. I knew she was hesitating, weighing me against Nolan. In the five years of my marriage to Vera, I had replaced her family’s old house with a villa, and I transferred money to her parents’ card every month for their living expenses. Seeing Vera’s mother’s hesitant look, my heart instantly sank to the bottom. Vera, as my wife, not only got pregnant with someone else’s child without telling me in advance, but she also brazenly brought the man back to humiliate me. Did she really think that because I loved her, I could unconditionally tolerate everything she did, including her cheating on me? Seeing the tense atmosphere, Vera suddenly burst into tears, “The child in my belly is innocent. No matter how much you scold me, I will give birth to it.” Vera cried pitifully, and Nolan, seeing this, suddenly knelt down in front of us, “Auntie, the child in Vera’s belly is your own grandchild.” “If it weren’t for Vera not being able to conceive for five years and fearing blame from the An family, she wouldn’t have done this…” Vera’s parents had been urging Vera to have a child to secure her position since the day we got married. But after five years of marriage, Vera’s belly had never shown any movement. After a check-up, we found out it was my problem. I had consulted doctors. Although I couldn’t conceive naturally, IVF treatment was not a problem. Because of this, Vera’s parents had never had a good attitude towards me, blaming me for making Vera suffer criticism. I knew all this and had always been compensating Vera. But how could she do such a thing? “Since you’re pregnant, give birth to it. No matter whose child it is, you’re still its mother.” After Vera’s father finished speaking, he turned to look at me again, “This matter is settled.” I couldn’t help but laugh coldly, “Settled?” “What right do you have to settle it?” Vera frowned at me, “Everything has been said. What are you dissatisfied with?” I laughed in extreme anger. I spent hundreds of thousands of dollars for her to go out and have fun, and she not only brought back a child but also a man. What right did she have to be imperious towards me? Nolan looked at me with difficulty and said hypocritically, “I know it’s because of me. I can leave, but you must take good care of Vera.” As soon as Vera’s mother heard this, she immediately became displeased, “How can you leave? Vera is in a good mood when she sees you, and moreover, with the child’s father around, the child will grow better.” Vera glared at me fiercely, “If you insist on making Nolan leave, then I’ll leave too.” Vera’s mother carefully protected Vera, “That won’t do. You both stay. In this house, I, as the mother-in-law, have the final say.” Nolan looked at Vera’s mother pleadingly, smiling smugly. Seeing their harmonious appearance, I could no longer stay and turned to leave. I stayed in the study for the whole afternoon. Occasional laughter could be heard from the living room. After dinner, Mrs. Lee came to see me, “Nolan originally wanted to occupy your study, but he was stopped by Madam’s mother.” “She said that after all, you are the CEO of the An Group, and all the expenses of the family, big and small, depend on you. They can’t completely break ties with you, so he should behave himself.” Mrs. Lee has been taking care of me since I was a child, and she knows my temper. She looked up at me, and seeing no reaction from me, she continued, “They said all the expenses after Madam’s pregnancy should still be borne by you. Since you can’t have children anyway, letting you experience the joy of being a father is not bad.” At this point, I could no longer maintain a good face and clenched my fists, asking, “Anything else?” Mrs. Lee continued, “They said since you have no children to inherit the An family, this child will be adopted under your name in the future, and the An family’s property will…” I laughed coldly. Vera’s family really knew how to calculate. Since they were so shameless, I would play along with them. In the evening, hearing the sound of cars starting outside, memories from five years ago kept forcing their way into my head. Back then, I insisted on marrying Vera, no matter how my parents tried to persuade me. At that time, my parents had already expressed their intention of an alliance marriage to the Shen family, and the Shen family was very agreeable. After all, both the An and Shen families were at the top of the pyramid in Ning City. Who wouldn’t agree to such a strong alliance? But I had no interest in the Shen family’s daughter and only saw her as a sister. Since I met Vera, my whole heart was set on her, and I had even less interest in Miss Shen. I always told my parents that Vera was different from ordinary girls, hoping they would give her a chance to meet her. They would surely like her. But my parents said that I had given Miss Shen hope, which was why she kept coming to our house to “accidentally” meet me. At that time, I didn’t care what Miss Shen thought. I just wanted to marry Vera quickly. The day I met Vera, it was raining heavily. She was wearing a white dress, standing under a tree to shelter from the rain. Her hair was wet from the rain and stuck to her face. Her big eyes were as pitiful as a little deer’s. Ignoring my roommate’s mockery, I ran over with an umbrella, wanting to “be helpful,” and very gentlemanly sent her back to her dormitory. She said she wanted to thank me, but I shamelessly asked for her SnapChat. That night, I added her on SnapChat. After I introduced myself, she immediately sent me a voice message. Her voice was as crisp as a silver bell, “Mr. An, I’ve heard about you before.” From that day on, I deliberately “accidentally” met Vera under her dormitory building. I even forced myself to attend 8 am classes, which I never liked, just to have more contact with her. Love at first sight. That’s how I willingly became Vera’s devoted knight. After marriage, Vera said she didn’t want to be just an idle wife and wanted to enter the company to help me, even if it was just as a small employee. How could I let her be a small employee? I directly made her my secretary. Vera was very smart and quickly learned and mastered everything. Soon, with my help, she achieved some success in investment. She said she wanted to do bigger things and walk side by side with me. I felt I should help her, but my parents and brothers thought I should think it through. Before the wedding, my parents had repeatedly reminded me that Vera wasn’t good enough for me. But I didn’t care. I only wanted her to love me. After marrying me, Vera’s parents lived an enviable and comfortable life. They quit their jobs that didn’t make much money and lived off the living expenses I gave them every month, enjoying an early retirement life. They often boasted that Vera was the vice president of the An Group and would soon become the CEO. Relatives of Vera’s family who hadn’t been in contact for generations came to ask for Vera’s help. Vera was thin-skinned and couldn’t refuse, so I did my best to help her handle everything. Even for weddings and funerals, people came to find Vera. Facing these poor relatives of Vera’s family, I didn’t feel there was anything wrong. After all, with the strength of my An family, this little help was nothing. But Vera didn’t know that a few days before our wedding, Miss Shen came to see me. She wanted to transfer her 10% of shares to me and said that if I ever regretted it, she would wait for me no matter when I turned back. I laughed at her for thinking too much. I’ve always had good taste since I was young and had never misjudged. I believed I wouldn’t misjudge Vera either. I didn’t expect to be slapped in the face so quickly. Everyone could see Vera’s true face clearly, except for my blind self. After marriage, even when I tried to go along with her, she would find all kinds of faults. She said I didn’t know how to do housework, she hated me drinking and smoking, complained that I always worked overtime, and that I wasn’t as considerate and gentle as other husbands in her social media circle. At that time, I was completely devoted to Vera. If she told me to die, I wouldn’t hesitate. So, I quit smoking and drinking, and immediately went home after work without accepting any social engagements. To please her, I even hired chefs from various countries to cook for her in different ways. My good friend Ryan always teased me, saying I had been trained by Vera into a 24-hour loyal dog. Vera’s parents had nothing but praise for me, telling everyone they met that Vera was lucky to have married me. But even though I was so good, Vera could still find faults with me. I always thought I wasn’t doing well enough, but now I realize she was just using me as a stepping stone on her path to success. She didn’t love me. No matter what I did, she would never be satisfied. They didn’t care about my opinion at all and let Nolan move into my house. In the evening, Nolan personally knocked on my door to ask me to come down for dinner. After I refused several times, he started that worthless green tea act again. He blamed himself loudly, “Mr. An, are you still blaming me?” “We’re all doing this for Vera’s sake. If you really hate me, I won’t appear in front of you in the future, okay?” I frowned and opened the door unhappily. Nolan had a bitter face as if he had been wronged. Vera came up holding the handrail, looking at Nolan with concern and comforting him, “It’s not your fault. You don’t need to act like you owe him anything.” “You go down and eat first.” Nolan refused to leave and took out a watch from his pocket, “This is a watch I modified myself. I know Mr. An has seen a lot and won’t think much of this watch.” “But I don’t have anything presentable to give. This is just a gift for you. Can we get along peacefully for Vera’s sake in the future?” I snorted coldly, “If you can’t give something presentable, then don’t give anything. How shabby.” Vera angrily slapped me in the face. “Andrew, Nolan has already lowered himself so much, yet you still humiliate him.” “I’m telling you, I’m pregnant and can’t get emotional. If you keep giving Nolan a hard time, it’s like you want to anger me to death!” Vera looked as if I was a heinous criminal. This slap broke all my lingering affection for her. I stared at the dog couple in front of me and raised my hand to slap Nolan twice in the face. I used all my strength, and soon blood flowed from the corner of Nolan’s mouth. Vera looked at me in disbelief and screamed, “You actually dared to hit Nolan!” I snorted coldly, “If it weren’t for the fact that you’re pregnant, this slap would have landed on your face.” “I, the CEO of the An Group, am not someone you can cuckold as you please.” Vera’s mother heard the commotion and immediately ran up to mediate, “Andrew, Vera is pregnant and got a bit emotional. Don’t take it to heart.” Seeing that I didn’t say anything, Vera’s mother immediately pulled Vera’s sleeve, “Vera, apologize to Andrew. What you just said was too harsh.” Vera pouted and stared at me. It had always been me apologizing to her. How could it be her turn to apologize to me? She turned her face away, unwilling to give in. “Vera!” Vera’s mother lightly slapped her, knowing that if they continued like this, they definitely wouldn’t get any benefits. “Apologize!” Vera unwillingly stared at me, “It was my bad mood. I shouldn’t have hit you, but you shouldn’t have hit Nolan either.” This wasn’t an apology at all. She was just accusing me. My heart was completely cold. I couldn’t eat dinner either. I stayed in the study all night, unwilling to go out. In the end, it was Mrs. Lee who felt sorry for me and brought me dinner. The next day, I slept until noon before waking up. Seeing them preparing lunch, I turned and left without looking back. The company secretary told me that somehow everyone knew that Vera had gone out to play for half a year and came back pregnant. There was a lot of unpleasant gossip about me in the company. Soon after I left, Vera sent me a message asking me to come back and bring her some supplements. She also wanted me to buy her the new bag that came out the day before yesterday to make her happy. Through the text on the screen, I seemed to see Vera’s high and mighty, imperious appearance. In the past, I would have granted her every request. But now, who was she to me? I quickly replied, “Let the child’s father buy it for you. That would be more reassuring.” As soon as the message was sent, Mrs. Lee told me that Nolan had snatched away all the supplements my mother had just sent over, saying it was good for the child in Vera’s belly. “What else did they say?” I asked. Mrs. Lee snorted angrily, “Vera’s parents didn’t blame Nolan at all. They were even pleased, saying that as long as it was something Vera could eat, they shouldn’t be polite and should just take it.” Because of my poor health, my mother would send some nourishing supplements every now and then. I never expected that my mother’s love for me would be taken advantage of by these bastards. Even Vera’s mother, who usually knew her manners, acquiesced to this. Since they were so shameless, I had no need to give them face anymore. I went directly to the company, called a high-level meeting, rearranged the work, deployed staff positions, and directly removed Vera from the position of vice president. “From today on, Manager Vera will no longer hold any position in the company. She is not allowed to set foot in the company.”

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“Do you know, there was never a Esme Winters, much less an Freya Winters. There’s only Zoe Winters, who’s determined to make you maggots pay for what you’ve done.” On the day of the arrest, the man who had forcibly kept me by his side knelt before me, his eyes red as he begged me not to abort the innocent child. I looked at him with the same contemptuous gaze he once used on me: “The child may be innocent, but what makes you think a maggot like you deserves to have a cFreyahild?” “Boss, this batch of goods is from Colombia, top quality.” When the hood was removed from my head, I found myself in an opulent room. A man sitting on a cream-colored sofa, cigar in hand, was being fawned over by another man who had been beating us for days due to our disobedience. He was eagerly trying to sell his ‘merchandise’ – us, the trafficked people. “These two are virgins, and not bad looking either. Want to take a closer look, Boss?” The trafficker pulled me and another girl out of the line, forcing us to kneel in front of the man called ‘Boss’. The Boss’s calm eyes lit up for a moment when he saw me. Though the spark vanished instantly, I caught it precisely. “Keep her. Do what you want with the rest,” the Boss said, indicating me. The girl brought out with me spoke up, somewhat disgruntled, “Why her? What’s wrong with me?” I remembered this girl. She had sat next to me in the trafficker’s van. According to her, she had sought out these traffickers herself, even paying them some money, all for the chance to be brought before this so-called Boss and potentially become his ‘wife’. Because of this, unlike us, she didn’t have to wear a hood except during mealtimes. The Boss glanced at her, and the girl’s face lit up with a bright smile. But his next words sent her plummeting into an icy hell: “Cut out her tongue and feed her to the dogs.” After the trafficker left with over a dozen young men and women, the Boss gestured for all the bodyguards to leave. In an instant, only the two of us remained in the vast room. He tilted up my chin, his narrow phoenix eyes full of curiosity. “What’s your name?” “Esme Winters.” “‘Esme’ – a flower of purity and rebirth. It seems your parents put some thought into naming you. However, from today on, your name will be Freya Winters.” I nodded in compliance. But he wasn’t satisfied. He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Why do I get the feeling you’re not really this obedient?” As he spoke, he pointedly looked at the bruises on my arm left by the trafficker. I laughed coldly, “My life is in your hands now. What choice do I have but to obey?” He sneered, “At least you’re sensible.” Then he released my chin and patted it lightly. A man dressed in a butler’s uniform I had only seen in TV dramas before walked in at his signal, head bowed, awaiting orders. “Prepare a room for Miss Winters.” The butler nodded in acknowledgment and led me away. I was bathed and attended to by three maids. Although I tried to engage them in conversation in both English and Spanish, they acted as if they hadn’t heard me, not even sparing me a glance. Ryan didn’t touch me that night, just held me as he slept, reeking of alcohol. This was the first time in a week I had slept in a bed, so I slept particularly soundly. When I woke up the next morning, he was already gone, leaving only a note telling me I could move freely within the villa. Freedom, but not much of it. There were many servants here, but no matter how much I talked, none except the butler would say even a word to me. The butler, however, promptly handed me a glass of water the first time I swallowed. I figured I probably wasn’t the first woman brought into this villa, and certainly wouldn’t be the last. I had to escape. I didn’t believe that a man who had risen to such prominence in this obviously unsavory place would fall in love with me at first sight. I was also well past the age where I might be enticed by the romanticization of bad guys in novels or other literature, like that girl who was killed on his word. The southern border of this state leads to Mexico. This is a hotbed of crime, a paradise for drug dealers and arms traffickers. As a proper, ordinary girl who had been kidnapped by traffickers, I should try to escape. My first chance to escape came soon enough. I don’t know who they had offended, but on the evening of the thirteenth day of my forced stay in this villa, Ryan’s estate suddenly came under heavy attack. Since Ryan wasn’t staying here tonight, the security wasn’t as strict as usual. The attackers came in force, and even the maid assigned to watch me constantly had fled. Taking advantage of this opportunity, I slipped out of the villa and jumped into the river that ran through the estate. I had been swimming since I was young, earning national athlete certification at sixteen. Although an accident later cost me the chance to become a professional athlete, I had never let this skill lapse. I had noticed this river on my first day of being held here. Over the past few days, I had feigned exceptional obedience, and occasionally the butler would allow me to get some fresh air in the garden under the watchful eyes of the servants. Today, I had just ‘strolled’ to the northernmost part of the estate and discovered that this river connected to the outside. However, the estate’s fence didn’t seem to stop at the water’s surface but extended straight into the riverbed. Sure enough, there was a fence underwater just like above. But fortunately, I was slender enough that, although it took some effort, I managed to squeeze through. Once out of the estate, I didn’t dare relax. I held my breath and swam hard, only daring to surface and rest when the sound of gunfire and explosions was no longer intense. Ryan had lived up to his criminal status; even after swimming for so long after leaving his estate, I was still in the midst of a dense forest. Thanks to the relatively low pollution here, I could see the stars in the sky. If I followed the North Star, I would eventually make it home, or at worst, back to the States. In my haste to leave, I had brought nothing but the clothes on my back. Although I was hungry and tired, I didn’t dare slack off. After all, the firefight on the other side might stop at any moment. If the troublemakers won, that would be fine. But if the butler won, he would surely come looking for me first thing when he discovered I was missing. I don’t know how long I walked, but as dawn was breaking, a hand suddenly grabbed my ankle, and then someone struggled to crawl out from under the fallen leaves on the ground. I struggled, kicking hard at the person’s body with my free foot. “Stop kicking, stop kicking, it’s me,” the person finally poked their head out, speaking in a somewhat familiar voice. I calmed myself and managed to make out the person’s identity from that dirt-covered face – it was the girl who Ryan had ordered to be fed to the dogs that day. “What are you doing here?” I asked. She rolled her eyes at me, “Escaped, of course. Who knew Ryan Carter could be so ruthless, actually having someone take me to feed the dogs. Luckily, that trafficker thought I still had some value and could be sold again, so he secretly saved me.” “Ryan Carter?” I frowned. She rolled her eyes at me again, her tone sour: “You’ve been by his side for so long and don’t even know his real name? Looks like he doesn’t like you as much as it seemed.” I remained silent. Seeing my lack of response, she waved her hand and spoke again, “Well, I won’t say more about what’s between you two. But for you to escape from Ryan’s heavily guarded villa, seems you’re not as weak as you look.” I spoke flatly, “Just lucky, that’s all.” She pulled out a bag from a nearby pile of leaves, taking out an unopened package of compressed biscuits and offering it to me. Seeing that I didn’t take it, she opened it, broke off a piece, and put it in her mouth. “It’s not poisoned. I stole these from the trafficker’s car.” I hadn’t seen a grain of rice since yesterday afternoon, and after walking all night, I was starving. Once I was sure the biscuit was edible, I promptly took it and wolfed it down. Honestly, I had never found compressed biscuits so delicious before. A rustling sound of leaves being stepped on came from the distance. The girl and I exchanged a glance, quickly pocketed the biscuits, and climbed a tree. The trees here were lush and leafy; as long as we controlled ourselves and didn’t make a sound, the people below wouldn’t discover us. Soon, several men in camouflage carrying guns stood in the spot where we had briefly rested. “How did that damn woman run so fast? Just wait till I catch her, I’ll teach her a lesson,” a bald man said through gritted teeth. “She’s the boss’s woman. If you rough her up, won’t we be the ones in trouble?” another man cautioned. The bald man snorted coldly, “She’s just a plaything. You think she means more to the boss than us brothers who’ve been through thick and thin with him?” The man who had cautioned him patted his shoulder, “You’d better give up on that idea. I was in the room that day when Aiden brought them in. Her face, it’s almost identical to Miss Freya Winters’.” The bald man’s attitude changed instantly upon hearing the name Freya Winters. “Really?” The man nodded, “Why else do you think the boss would send us out to look for a woman? Come on, it’s dawn already. That woman’s probably exhausted after running for so long. If we keep going, we’ll likely find her soon.” The bald man stopped complaining and led the small team forward with the other man. Once we could no longer hear their footsteps, the girl and I carefully climbed down from the tree. She scanned me up and down with a strange look. Feeling uncomfortable under her gaze, I took the initiative to ask where she planned to go next. She sighed, “Try to get back to the States, I guess. What else can I do, stay here and run phone scams? What about you?” “I’m going home.” Our goals were the same, but we disagreed on which direction to take. Although any direction would eventually lead to a road if we walked long enough, given her knowledge of Ryan and her idiotic decision to voluntarily get trafficked, I didn’t trust her to lead us out. So we walked in the direction I had originally planned. We encountered that group of men once more, again using the tree-climbing method to avoid them. After walking for two days, we finally heard the sound of car horns. We had finally made it out. But as soon as we emerged from the forest, I saw that familiar face. Surrounded by a group of bodyguards, the scene was identical to when we first met, except for the setting and the characters’ actions. Including his visibly aristocratic demeanor and my disheveled state. He looked at us with a half-smile, merely beckoning with his hand. The girl who had walked with me for two days immediately ran to his side. “Boss, I brought her out safely as you ordered. How are you going to reward me?” Her face no longer bore the bitter resentment she had shown while recounting her escape from the traffickers. Instead, it was full of ingratiating obedience. Ryan nodded to her, “Well done. Go see Butler Brown for your reward.” She pouted, somewhat dissatisfied, but said nothing more. I felt my whole body turn cold, as if all my blood had reversed its flow. Running away now would only anger him and serve no other purpose. I could only stand there, watching as he approached me step by step. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes nearly drowning me in their displeasure. “Didn’t I tell you that you could only move around within the villa? Why are you being so disobedient?” As he spoke, the hand that had tucked my hair suddenly gripped my neck. An intense feeling of suffocation enveloped me. But I didn’t try to beg for mercy. I just quietly closed my eyes – dying like this would be fine, at least better than living without freedom. But he wasn’t willing to let me go so easily. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, he released his hand. Taking a handkerchief from Butler Brown, he meticulously wiped the entire hand that had touched me, then carelessly tossed the handkerchief to the ground. “Bring Miss Winters back intact. I’ll deal with her personally when I return.” He particularly emphasized the word ‘intact’. The men who had been chasing us for two days immediately understood his meaning. They beat me at the roadside until I was nearly unconscious before tying me up and stuffing me into the car. Back at the villa, the butler dragged me to a room they had previously forbidden me to enter. Opening the door, I realized it wasn’t a room at all, but a dungeon. There was only a small window opposite the door, letting in a sliver of sunlight so those inside could distinguish day from night. There were four cages in the dungeon. Butler Brown locked me in the one nearest to the door. Fortunately, he didn’t turn off the small lamp that barely provided illumination when he left. I could clearly see the scene in the dungeon. All four cells were covered in mottled bloodstains. Mine was the cleanest, but even here, the remaining bloodstains showed that the previous occupants had suffered no small amount of torture. Various instruments of torture, some familiar and some not, hung on the wall opposite the door. In contrast to the dirty and messy environment here, these torture devices looked spotlessly clean. “Where did you come from?” A woman’s startled cry brought me back to reality. I looked up and saw a person suddenly appear in the diagonal cell. I forced a smile and greeted her. But when she saw my face, she unexpectedly fell to her knees, tears instantly flowing down her face, repeating: “Miss Winters, I was wrong. I’ll never dare to frame you again. Miss Winters, I was wrong…” She seemed to have completely lost the normal demeanor she had when asking where I came from. Unable to get any useful information from her, I walked to the corner straw pile and closed my eyes to rest. After running for so long, I was truly exhausted. I was awakened by cold water. Opening my eyes, I saw Ryan standing in front of me with a cold expression, a wooden bucket that had held water at his feet. He yanked me up from the straw pile, gripping my chin and crouching in front of me, his eyes nearly drowning me in impatience. “I told you that you could only move around within the villa. Didn’t you understand?” I suppressed the unease in my heart and answered word by word: “Those people came so fiercely, how was I to know your men would definitely win? Besides, didn’t you already arrange people to intercept me on the road? Whether I ran or not, what difference did it make to you?” He flung my face to the side and stood up, no longer looking at me. “Since you don’t realize you’ve done wrong, then just stay here until you’re willing to admit your mistake.” With that, he left without looking back. Perhaps fearing I would starve to death, Butler Brown came to bring me food at regular intervals. On his tenth visit with a tray, I asked him to let Ryan come see me. When Ryan came, he seemed to be in a good mood. He looked down at me and asked if I realized what I had done wrong. I said my mistake was going to Mexico for vacation and not immediately jumping out of the car when I realized I had been kidnapped. He left in a rage, turning off the small lamp that had been on day and night, and taking away the crazy woman who had been staying with me. The sky outside brightened and darkened seven more times. My psychological defenses had truly reached their limit. When Butler Brown came to deliver lunch, I begged him again. His response was, “The last time you angered the master, I also suffered and had a month’s salary deducted. This time, I dare not so easily pass on your message.” Without a word, I knelt down on the spot, earnestly promising him that I would never think of escaping again and would stay here to serve Ryan well. Only then did he agree to plead my case when Ryan returned that night. Ryan came back in the evening. As soon as he turned on the light, the tears I had been preparing all afternoon gushed out. My hands frantically reached for his body. He frowned slightly in disgust and turned to instruct Butler Brown to take me out of the dungeon. That night, he no longer just held me and muttered those words of love he hadn’t had a chance to say to the real Freya. Instead, he tore off my dress and vented his desires on my body. Before leaving, he put on his clothes and instructed me without turning back: “Have Butler Brown take you to remove that mole on your left cheek later.” Without that mole, I would truly be identical to the former Freya Winters. Knowing I couldn’t successfully escape on my own, I became increasingly obedient. After being a caged bird in the villa for two years, he finally decided to take me out to meet people. I deliberately acted according to what the servants who finally agreed to talk to me described as Freya’s behavior. The wariness in his eyes towards me decreased day by day, replaced by surging love. When he proposed having a child, I also made the most ‘outrageous’ request in two years. “I want to see the company.” He hesitated for a moment before agreeing. The next afternoon, I went to the company with him. His company was located in the courtyard behind a bank. To get there, one had to pass through the bank’s VIP room. Who would have thought that the headquarters of Mexico’s largest drug trafficking organization would be right behind Mexico’s largest bank? Some people in the company recognized my face. They looked at me with eyes full of pity, yet had to respectfully call me ‘Mrs. Carter’. Although I was just a substitute, Ryan’s willingness to bring me to the company already proved that this substitute held no small place in his heart. Ryan held my shoulders and introduced me to their company’s R&D base. With some pride in his voice, he told me that in recent years, many new drugs had been born in this R&D base. He even said that after I gave birth to our baby, he would name a new drug after the baby. I wore a harmless smile on my face, but inside I couldn’t help feeling sick. Naming a drug after my child? What a vicious idea. Yet he could say it so seriously, as if he thought it was some great honor. The moral compass of these drug dealers truly made me, a normal person, unable to comprehend. As he was talking enthusiastically, a middle-aged man ran over breathlessly. He looked at Ryan, then at me, with a troubled expression. I spoke up tactfully: “You two talk. I should head back anyway.” Ryan handed me over to Butler Brown, who had been accompanying us on the side, instructing him to take me back safely. When we reached the bank’s entrance, I suddenly heard someone call out that name I had almost forgotten myself. “Esme Winters?” I froze for two seconds before turning around. The person who called me ran to my side excitedly. It was Ethan White, my nominal brother. “Esme, it really is you. I just called out on a hunch because your back looked familiar.” He scanned me up and down, and seeing I wasn’t missing any limbs, he tentatively asked: “Why haven’t you called home for so long? Uncle Mark and Mom have been looking everywhere for you.” I glanced at Butler Brown, and seeing he was keeping his head down without any intention of intervening, I replied, “I’ve been out of the country and it wasn’t convenient. Now that we’ve run into each other, help me tell them I’m doing well here and they don’t need to worry. I’ll visit when I have the chance.”

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After my parents passed away, I was taken in by Colonel Gerald Sutton, my grandfather’s old comrade. Amara Sutton, twelve years older than me, told me she would take care of me from then on. And she did. She showered me with blatant, unapologetic favoritism. But on the day I finished my college entrance exams, I couldn’t hold back anymore—I confessed to her. Amara pushed me away, disappointment etched on her face. “Get a grip, Cole! I’m twelve years older than you—I’m your guardian!” Later, she brought home Damon Lockhart, the man I had never gotten along with since childhood. And for him, she pushed me off the edge of Ravencliff Canyon. When I woke up in the ambulance, I dialed a number I had been holding onto for a long time. Content The day Amara invited me hiking, rescue workers found me unconscious at the bottom of Ravencliff Canyon. They performed CPR and bandaged my wounds. I finally regained some semblance of consciousness, clawing my way back from the brink. The suffocating sensation of near-death still lingered in my nerves. Thankfully, the canyon wasn’t too deep; I only ended up with minor fractures. But Amara had already left with Damon Lockhart. She didn’t care if I lived or died. All it took was one word from Damon: “Let him see what it feels like to take a fall.” So, she pushed me off. But I had never been alone with Damon. I had no idea how he ended up bruised and battered, rolling down the hill. Damon lay curled up, clutching his leg, trying to appear in agony while stealing glances at me. “Amara, it’s my own clumsiness. Don’t blame anyone else.” Amara immediately decided I was the culprit. “Cole Whitmore, all these years I raised you were a waste. How dare you do something so ungrateful!” Damon was the man she loved most in her life. For him, she would turn on me without hesitation. No matter how hard I tried, I was just the foster son. Her disdain for me must have started on the day of my graduation party. That day, I had too much fun with my classmates, getting drunk for the first time in a karaoke lounge. Amara drove to pick me up, helping me into the passenger seat and leaning over to buckle my seatbelt. Under the influence of alcohol, my mind was filled with thoughts of Amara’s kindness. I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around her neck and whisper my confession into her ear. The object of my twelve-year-long crush was none other than Amara Sutton. Her expression changed instantly. She shoved me away, disappointment clouding her features. “Cole Whitmore! I told you to call me Aunt Amara, not by my name!” “I won’t! Amara is just Amara—not my aunt. We’re not even related by blood. At most, I can call you my sister!” Amara flew into a rage. In her eyes, my defiance was nothing more than teenage rebellion. Our relationship grew more strained by the day. With her looks and charm, plenty of men were eager to court her. Yet she waited until she was 34 to announce her engagement. People whispered that I was the reason she delayed marriage, saying she spent all her time raising a foster son with no room to find love. Things only worsened after Damon Lockhart showed up. Amara’s patience with me wore thinner with every passing day. I knew it was time for me to leave. Resolving myself, I called Mrs. Fiona Ellis, my late mother’s friend. “Mrs. Ellis, I’ve made up my mind. I’m moving to San Francisco and will accept the Prescott family’s proposal.” Her tone was heavy with concern. “Cole, are you okay? This is a lifelong decision. Don’t make it impulsively.” When my parents died, Mrs. Ellis had intended to adopt me. But Colonel Sutton, pitying his comrade’s orphaned grandson, had taken me in first. Before he passed away, he left a will asking Amara to look after me for life. “I’m fine. I’ve thought it through. Once I settle things here, I’ll book a flight for next month.” She was quiet for a moment before replying. “Alright, I’ll support your choice. If you need advice, don’t hesitate to reach out.” “Thank you. Amara is getting married soon. I want to say goodbye properly.” Mrs. Ellis agreed. “She raised you for over a decade. Make sure to thank her—and don’t forget a wedding gift.” Rain fell cold and steady over New York City’s gray skies. I had already decided what wedding gift to give. Back at the Sutton Estate, I found Damon lounging on the sofa with one leg crossed over the other. Amara was kneeling at his feet, gently massaging his ankle. The sight was like a dagger to my heart. When Damon saw me, he greeted me with exaggerated concern. “Cole’s back! You’re not hurt, are you? Amara can be so harsh sometimes…” Amara cut him off with a cold glare. “He brought it on himself.” Her five words shattered what little remained of my resolve. Indeed, it was my fault. I should never have fallen for Amara. I climbed the stairs in silence, pretending not to see their affection. The housekeeper emerged from my art studio, carrying an armful of things, leaving the room nearly empty. She looked uncomfortable as she explained, “Sir, this room has the best lighting. Miss Sutton wants to turn it into a nursery.” I stared at the paintings tossed aside like garbage. Once, Amara had told me I was a genius, a future great artist. She had emptied the best-lit room for me to use as a studio, promising to give me the best the world could offer. Now, the shards of my heart couldn’t even muster pain anymore. I forced a faint smile. “It’s fine. I’ll take care of it. Thank you.” The housekeeper hesitated before finally leaving. Among the remnants were old sketches and carefully framed portraits I had drawn of Amara for her birthdays. Packing them into a large box, I stood to find her suddenly at the door.

“Are you running a fever?” Amara Sutton frowned as she walked toward me. The glass window reflected my face, pale and sickly. I had been dizzy all afternoon, my forehead burning. I shook my head. “No, I’m fine.” Better than giving her a reason to call me spoiled. Damon Lockhart was temporarily resting in her bedroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Amara’s hand rise slightly before dropping back down. Her face remained cold as she reprimanded me. “Learn your lesson this time. Don’t do anything so stupid again.” “You’re an adult. Acting jealous is just childish.” Amara knew I had feelings for her. She had no trouble dismissing my sincerity as meaningless. I pressed my lips together, refusing to admit any fault. Her patience grew thinner. “Damon and I are getting married next month. Don’t create any trouble for me.” “If something like today happens again, you can pack your things and leave.” She left me with that cruel warning and walked away, her figure disappearing down the hallway. The Amara I once knew—gentle, patient, protective—was long gone. There was a time when Amara would have charged into my school to defend me. When classmates bullied me, she showed up in the principal’s office, raising hell. She even sent one of their parents to the hospital. She didn’t care about paying for medical expenses—she just wanted justice for me. When I was sick and needed surgery, she stayed by my bedside for days without sleeping. She even gave up a multimillion-dollar contract to make sure I was safe. Back then, she would light candles in church, praying for my health and well-being. Now, I carried the box of what little remained of my belongings down the stairs. I tossed it into the trash, staring at the pieces of my past. What was the point of keeping photos and gifts? Amara no longer belonged to me. That day, they were going to pick up a car—a wedding gift from Amara to Damon. Damon, always eager to show his dominance, called out to me deliberately in front of her. “Hey, Cole, why don’t you join us?” “I could use your opinion. I might not have the best eye for these things.” He wanted me there, not for advice, but to rub salt in my wounds. I kept my composure and smiled. “I think I’ll pass. I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time together.” Besides, I was busy erasing every trace of my existence from the Sutton Estate. I needed to save up enough to repay the years of kindness I owed Amara and finally leave for good. Amara looked at me with a sharp, lingering gaze, as if daring me to hold onto some shred of hope. “Get in the back seat,” she ordered firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Be good, Cole. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Reluctantly, I followed them to the dealership. Damon drove, chatting and laughing with Amara the entire way. At a red light, she peeled an orange for him, feeding him a piece. I remember how much she hated the smell of oranges. But now, she didn’t even flinch, methodically peeling one after another for him. Turning away, I stared out the window, catching a glimpse of Damon’s smug grin reflected in the glass. “Hey, Cole, what do you think? The first one, or this one here?” This dealership was one of the most exclusive in New York City. The price tags on their cars started at seven figures. It was clear how much Amara cared for him. “They’re both fine,” I replied, unwilling to commit. My hesitation seemed to satisfy Damon. “What about you, babe? What do you think?” Amara, distracted by her phone, took a few moments before answering. “The first one,” she said simply. Damon beamed. “Alright, let’s take another look at your pick.” “Why don’t you sit in the passenger seat with me, Amara? I’m worried I might scratch it.” Despite my reluctance, Amara’s stern gaze forced me to join them for the test drive. The car started moving slowly. I barely had time to help Damon adjust his mirrors before we heard a loud crash. The car had backed into a pillar. “Dammit!” Damon shrieked, his voice trembling. Amara rushed over, her expression darkening as she looked at the damaged car, then back at us. “What happened?”

Damon Lockhart’s voice trembled. “Amara, if you don’t want me to take the car, I won’t. But why would you—” A dealership employee rushed over, gasping at the crumpled rear end. “Miss Sutton, look at this!” The air grew heavy with silence. Then came the slap, loud and stinging. My cheek burned hot, and I stared at Amara, stunned. “It wasn’t me…” I muttered. Her fury was unrelenting. “Enough! There were only two of you in the car. How much longer are you going to deny it?” “To stoop to such petty tricks… you’ve really let me down, Cole. Apologize to Damon right now!” She was convinced my jealousy had driven me to destroy the luxury car she had chosen for Damon. “This has nothing to do with me, and I won’t apologize.” I held my head high, refusing to let my tears fall as I faced her wrath. Her hand rose again, but Damon stepped in with faux concern. “That’s enough, babe. Just make him pay for the damages. No need to mess up his face any further.” Reluctantly, Amara let the matter drop, leaving me behind. “If you’re bold enough to cause trouble, you can handle the consequences.” She drove away with Damon, her sports car roaring as they sped off. The bill came next—a staggering $888,000. The guards by the door made it clear: if I didn’t pay in full, I wasn’t leaving. Clenching my jaw, I handed over my card, watching as my savings evaporated. I had been carefully setting aside money to repay Amara the $5 million I owed for my upbringing. This incident set me back even further, forcing me to work even harder to make up for the loss. After graduation, I co-founded a company with friends. Amara had tried to pull me into Sutton Enterprises, but I declined. Had I joined, severing ties with her would’ve been impossible. The company became my escape. I poured myself into it—late nights, endless meetings, constant hustling to land deals and build partnerships. For months, I avoided speaking to Amara entirely. Then one night, I saw her through the glass window of a karaoke lounge. She sat at the center of a crowd, surrounded by laughter and admiration. Damon sat beside her, their chairs too close for comfort. The group egged them on, demanding they toast together. Damon turned to her expectantly, his eyes gleaming. Amara hesitated, her gaze drifting toward the door. I ducked behind the wall, holding my breath. Moments later, her voice floated out—soft, yet firm. “Alright.” The crowd erupted into cheers, celebrating their “perfect love story.” By the time I returned to my seat, my phone was lighting up with social media notifications. Photos of them drinking together, Damon’s hand on her wrist, even a candid of him leaning in to kiss her. I hit “like” on the post, my expression unreadable. Turning back to my clients, I smiled, pouring drinks and singing to close the deal. When I finally walked out with the signed contract, I felt a strange sense of relief. The money was enough to settle my debt with Amara. I stumbled into the Sutton Estate, drunk and exhausted. The house was dark, but her silhouette was unmistakable, her piercing eyes cutting through the gloom. “What kind of business requires you to be in a place like that?” Her tone was cold, accusatory. “And what kind of place would that be?” I asked, smirking. Her expression hardened. She thought I had been following her. “Why can you go there, but I can’t?” The alcohol loosened my tongue, making my voice sharper than intended. She blinked, taken aback. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from shady crowds like that?” “I must’ve forgotten,” I replied, brushing past her. “Cole Whitmore!” The sound of shattering glass echoed behind me. Shards of the tea cup skittered across the floor, cutting into my leg and drawing blood. “Stop trying to get my attention,” she snapped. “It’s useless. All you’re doing is humiliating yourself.” She stormed off, slamming her door behind her. I sighed, cleaning and bandaging the cut before collapsing onto my bed. Maybe it was the fall at Ravencliff Canyon, or the alcohol, but my body burned with fever that night. In my haze, I thought I saw her sitting by my bedside.

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I caught my husband swapping my eggs with his ideal woman’s before our IVF procedure. I didn’t say a word, but switched the eggs back. And while I was at it, I replaced my husband’s sperm with my ex-boyfriend’s. Twenty-five years later, the other woman showed up at our door, crying hysterically to my daughter: “Sweetie, I’m your real mother!” My daughter Xixi and I had just returned home from an overseas medical cooperation project when we were greeted by an unexpected scene. Our house was filled with distant relatives we rarely saw. It looked like a Johnson family reunion. The most eye-catching figure was Brianna White, sobbing dramatically in the center of the sofa. Gregory Johnson, my perpetually absent “good husband,” was comforting her with tender words and gestures. I raised an eyebrow, set my suitcase aside, and turned to Gregory. “What’s the special occasion? Why such a crowd?” Xixi followed behind me, arms crossed and a look of disgust on her face as she stared at Brianna. She had already guessed this woman’s identity. My mother-in-law sat in the main seat, her expression troubled and hesitant. Before Gregory could speak, Brianna lunged towards Xixi, crying, “My darling daughter, I’m your real mother!” Xixi nimbly dodged her, her face contorted with revulsion as if Brianna were something filthy. She stepped back and said coldly, “My mom’s name is Kaia Hansen.” That’s my girl, always my little sweetheart. I took Xixi’s hand, giving her a reassuring look, then raised my other hand and slapped Brianna across the face. The sharp sound echoed through the living room. “Don’t go claiming false relationships,” I said, my voice icy and my gaze sharp as a knife. Gregory jumped up, tenderly helping Brianna to her feet. He pointed at me and shouted, “Kaia, have you lost your mind? How dare you hit Brianna!” He raised his hand, about to strike me. Quick as lightning, Xixi stepped forward and slapped Gregory. “You dare hit my mom?” Xixi’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an undeniable authority. Gregory froze, both angry and shocked. He raised his hand again, this time to hit Xixi. But Brianna grabbed him, fake-crying, “Gregory, don’t! She’s our daughter!” Her act of a caring mother made me want to vomit. Gregory lowered his hand, glaring fiercely at Xixi. “If it weren’t for your real mother’s sake, I’d teach you a lesson right now!” Xixi let out a cold laugh. “Huh, I’d like to see you try.” Her piercing gaze was just like mine when I was young. I felt a surge of pride – this was indeed the daughter I had carefully raised!

An elder cleared his throat, attempting to calm the chaotic scene. “Everyone, quiet down!” His deep voice carried an undeniable authority. As the room gradually fell silent, all eyes turned to the elder. He looked at Gregory. “Gregory, why did you call everyone here? What’s going on?” Gregory took a deep breath, as if gathering courage. He put his arm around Brianna’s shoulders, looking deeply in love. “Actually, I have an important announcement to make today.” He paused, his gaze sweeping across the room before finally landing on Xixi and me. I watched him silently, wondering what kind of show he was going to put on. “Xixi… she’s not Kaia’s biological daughter,” Gregory said, his voice low but the impact as explosive as a bomb in the living room. Xixi whipped her head around to look at me, her eyes full of shock. I gestured for her to stay calm. The relatives around us began to whisper, like a group of sharks that had caught the scent of blood, stirring excitedly. “Back when we did the IVF…” Gregory paused, as if it was difficult to continue, “The doctor said Kaia’s eggs weren’t good enough… To spare her feelings about being a mother, I switched them with Brianna’s…” This idiot was actually trying to pin the blame on me for his sneaky behavior! Gregory’s malicious gaze fell on me, seemingly waiting for me to lose control in anger. But I remained calm and composed, forcing him to continue his performance. “I called everyone here today to witness…” he looked at Brianna with apparent deep affection, “Xixi recognizing her birth mother.” The relatives immediately erupted into discussion. “If Xixi isn’t Kaia’s daughter, of course she should recognize her birth mother!” “That’s right, Kaia has occupied the position of Johnson family’s daughter-in-law for so many years, it’s time for her to step down!” “Kaia has been controlling Johnson Group’s assets all these years. Now that the truth is out, it’s time for her to leave the company!” Listening to these comments, I couldn’t help but laugh coldly to myself. These relatives with ulterior motives had long been suppressed and removed from the company’s management by me. They could only profit from year-end dividends and were very dissatisfied with me. Now they were eager to watch the drama unfold, hoping to see Gregory and me fall out so they could return to the company and get a piece of the pie. Xixi, seeing the undisguised greed in the relatives’ eyes, gripped my hand tighter. I spoke up: “Xixi is my child. She will only ever be my child.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it was firm and resolute. Brianna put on a helpless expression and choked out, “Sister, how long are you going to deceive yourself?”

I wasn’t deceiving myself. Xixi really was my child. Did Gregory and Brianna really think they could fool me? Back then, Gregory had weak sperm, so we decided to try IVF. Before the embryo was formed, I accidentally caught Gregory secretly messing with my egg storage cabinet along with a nurse. I overheard him happily calling Brianna, saying he had successfully switched in her eggs. At the time, I didn’t make a scene. I silently turned around and gave the doctor a hundred thousand dollars to switch back to my spare eggs that I had harvested earlier. I also “kindly” asked the doctor to replace Gregory’s sperm with my ex-boyfriend’s. On the day of the embryo formation, Gregory and I witnessed the birth of a “miracle” together. He was abnormally happy, probably thinking it was his and Brianna’s child. Watching his stupid expression, I was laughing inside. All these years, I watched him dote on Xixi like a fool, thinking she was his child with Brianna. I can’t tell you how satisfying it was. He tried to trick me, but ended up being the fool for over twenty years. Gregory interrupted my reminiscing, mocking me, “Still in denial? Xixi may have come from your body, but the egg wasn’t yours! Her birth mother is Brianna.” I replied calmly, but with a hint of challenge: “Are you daydreaming?” “If you don’t believe it, we can do a DNA test!” Gregory said firmly. “I also want a divorce! You forced me to marry you, treating me like a lapdog. I’ve been with you for twenty-five years, I’ve done more than enough for you!” When he mentioned divorce, a hint of joy flashed across his face. Looks like he’s been wanting this for a long time. Huh? He dares to say he’s done enough for me? Married to him for twenty-five years, I might as well have been a widow for twenty-five years. When I was raising our child alone, he was off gallivanting with Brianna. When I was fighting in the business world to uphold the Johnson family name, he was living it up in entertainment venues. But he’s wrong about one thing – I didn’t marry him because I loved him like a fool. Marrying him was just to get the status of Johnson family’s daughter-in-law and control Johnson Group. Now, Johnson Group is completely under my control. So, Gregory is of no use to me anymore! “Divorce is fine,” I shrugged indifferently, “But there’s no need for a DNA test. I’m certain Xixi is my child.” Xixi looked at me, her eyes determined. “Mom, I believe you.” Gregory and Brianna immediately became anxious. “Xixi, don’t you trust your father?” Xixi ignored him, just sticking close to me. Just then, a young man who looked like a college student burst in. He walked straight to Xixi, excitedly calling out, “Sister!” Everyone in the room was stunned. As if one extra mother wasn’t enough, now a brother had appeared out of nowhere?

Looking at the boy whose features resembled Brianna’s, I had a vague guess. This must be Gregory and Brianna’s love child. They had kept it well hidden for over twenty years, never letting me find out. It seems this drama is even more interesting than I imagined. My mother-in-law sat at the head of the room, looking at the boy with a stern expression. “Gregory, what’s going on?” The atmosphere in the living room froze once again. The boy looked like he was about to cry, his eyes red-rimmed. “Sister, my name is George. I… I’ve always known about you.” He spoke with a slight stutter, his voice low but trembling. He glanced at me furtively, then quickly lowered his head, as if afraid I would scold him. “My… my mom, she often told me about you, said you were very talented and beautiful…” Brianna began to sob on cue, covering her mouth with a handkerchief, her shoulders shaking. “Xixi, my precious daughter, mommy has missed you so much all these years…” She looked up, her eyes brimming with tears, as if she had suffered a great injustice. “George… he’s always wanted to meet you too. We often secretly went to see you…” George nodded eagerly, hastily adding, “It’s true! Sister, I even enrolled in your school, just to… to be closer to you…” He pulled out a stack of photos from his pocket and carefully handed them to Xixi. “These are pictures of you. I… I took them secretly…” Xixi took the stack of photos and flipped through them briefly. There were photos of her in her graduation gown, smiling brightly; exhausted after dance practice; engaged in a debate with classmates, looking vibrant and energetic… Xixi felt goosebumps rising all over her body. For years, there had been a creepy stalker hiding near her, watching and secretly photographing her! Gregory wasn’t idle either. He walked up to his mother, pointing at George, his tone grave. “Mom, this is the Johnson family’s grandson! All the elders are here to witness, please… please accept him!” Gregory was quite clever. He knew that after his father’s passing, his mother was actually the one who had the final say in the Johnson family. He invited all the relatives to pressure his mother into accepting this child. He was certain that if his mother accepted George, I would have nothing to say about it. After all, in these twenty-five years, he had observed my obedience and filial piety towards his mother. George was quick-witted. He immediately turned to my mother-in-law, respectfully calling out, “Grandma!” My mother-in-law looked at George, then at me, her eyes complex. She didn’t immediately respond to George’s call. I knew she cared for me. Not wanting to put her in a difficult position, I spoke up to break the awkward silence, “Gregory, your real purpose in having this illegitimate child recognized is to inherit the Johnson family business, isn’t it? Why drag Xixi into this?”

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I had been married to Lydia Hale for five years, and she had never respected me. Worse, she and her golden boy, Caleb Monroe, framed me, leading to a brutal beating that landed me in the hospital. She even walked into the operating room in front of me to terminate our child—just because she couldn’t stand the idea of having a baby with my genes. My sister, Victoria Sterling, also believed Caleb’s lies and grew to despise me. The worst part? They conspired to send me to prison in Caleb’s place. I endured hell in Blackstone Correctional Facility, and when I finally decided to give up on all of them, they started to regret it. Content When Lydia came to pick me up, I was still in Warden Gregory Maddox’s office, enduring one of his punishments. He had me on my knees as he lashed my back with a whip. “Warden, Prisoner #8074’s family is here,” Officer Adam Carter announced from the doorway. Maddox paused, setting the whip aside. He glared down at me. “#8074, you know what to say and what not to say once you’re out, don’t you?” Trembling, I nodded. “I… I understand.” Satisfied with my submission, he nodded and grabbed the paperwork Adam handed him. “Sign this,” he barked. I took the pen with shaky hands and scrawled my name—Ryan Sterling. It had been so long since anyone had called me by my name that I hesitated before writing it. Maddox walked me to the prison gates himself, a clear threat lingering in the gesture. Outside, the blinding sunlight burned my eyes. As I adjusted, I saw her standing next to a luxury car, stunning as ever—my wife, Lydia Hale. The same woman who had orchestrated my imprisonment. And not just her. My sister, Victoria Sterling—the sibling I had vowed to protect—had been complicit. The two women I loved most had worked together to send me to hell. “Ryan Sterling, what are you dawdling for?” Lydia snapped, her tone dripping with impatience. Reluctantly, I picked up my meager belongings and approached her. But the closer I got, the more revolted I felt. A wave of nausea hit me, and I doubled over, retching dryly. I hadn’t eaten in a day; there was nothing to vomit. Lydia didn’t even feign concern. Instead, she sneered, “What, playing the sympathy card again? You’re disgusting. Is that all you know how to do?” Straightening up, I caught her gaze—cold, disdainful, as though I were nothing more than dirt beneath her designer heels. Before I went to prison, Lydia had been pregnant with my child. She took me to Memorial General Hospital and, without a shred of hesitation, entered the operating room. When she emerged, the baby was gone. I’ll never forget the first thing she said to me after. “Ryan Sterling, you’re so vile that just carrying your child made me sick. Now that it’s gone, I feel lighter.” With one callous remark, she killed our child. “What are you staring at now?” Lydia’s voice jolted me back to reality. “Hurry up and get in the car. We don’t want Caleb waiting too long,” she added. The mention of Caleb Monroe sent a sharp pang through my chest. If not for him, I wouldn’t have ended up like this. Lydia tried to grab my bag, but I yanked it away instinctively. “No… I can handle it myself.” She raised an eyebrow. “Prison taught you some independence, I see. Good. At least it cured you of your spoiled brat tendencies.” Her words were absurdly amusing. Prison had taught me independence? It was Caleb’s drunk driving that had caused a fatal accident. Lydia and Victoria couldn’t bear the thought of him in prison, so they framed me instead. In Blackstone Correctional Facility, I experienced horrors beyond comprehension. When I first arrived, Maddox had me placed in solitary confinement. For a moment, I thought Lydia had bribed him to give me better accommodations. But I soon realized his “special attention” was anything but kind. On my first day, I noticed a group of inmates ganging up on others. Naively, I reported it to Maddox. That night, I was dragged into a secret room filled with torture devices. They stripped me to the waist, tied me to a beam, and lashed my back until it was raw and bleeding. I passed out from the pain, but they revived me with a bucket of saltwater poured over my wounds. The agony was indescribable. When they’d had their fill, they tossed me into the same cell as the bullies I’d reported. Those men tortured me all night. Later, I learned they had bribed Maddox for protection, and I had crossed the wrong people.

After that, Warden Gregory Maddox seemed to take pleasure in finding new ways to torment me. In the dead of winter, during one of Blackstone’s infamous blizzards, he dragged me out of the prison unnoticed. He stripped me down to nothing, threw me into the snow, and ordered me to crawl forward on my knees, shouting, “I’m nothing but scum! I don’t deserve Lydia Hale!” Another time, he used a medieval-style hand press on me, forcing my fingers apart until the bones cracked. My hands became limp, useless appendages that could no longer hold anything, let alone a melody on the piano. Every time he tortured me, my screams were so guttural they shredded my vocal cords. My voice, once clear and resonant, was now a hoarse rasp. They even jammed a sharp object into my right ear, rupturing my eardrum. All I could hear on that side was a faint, distorted hum. But I was a pianist. My hands and my ears were my life. And in Blackstone, both were destroyed. “#8074,” Maddox would sneer as he delivered another blow. “You’re nothing but trash. You tricked Lydia into marrying you, sabotaged Caleb Monroe, and almost drove him to suicide. Everything happening to you now is what you deserve.” “You should be grateful. Suffering here is your penance.” He repeated these words every day like a mantra, as if trying to make me believe them. Lydia drove silently, glancing at me with irritation when I didn’t respond. “What’s wrong with you now, Ryan? Gone mute?” I turned my head slightly, my right ear catching only fragments of her voice. I chuckled bitterly. Once, I would have talked endlessly around Lydia, eager for any acknowledgment, even if it was just a dismissive word. Now, my silence seemed to bother her more than my presence. “I didn’t want to irritate you,” I rasped, my voice barely audible and nothing like the way it used to sound. She seemed momentarily taken aback by my tone but quickly brushed it off, glaring at me. “Ryan Sterling, I’ve told you before—your pathetic tricks won’t work on me.” She thought I was playing the victim, trying to gain her sympathy. In the past, I might have tried to explain myself, but now, I didn’t see the point. The car pulled up to Sterling Manor in Manhattan’s gated community. Lydia parked and stepped out, motioning for me to follow. Before entering, she turned and said, “Caleb doesn’t know you went to prison for him. Don’t let anything slip. Understand?” I lifted my head to look at the house. This used to be my home, my sanctuary, the place where Lydia and I were supposed to build a life together. Now, it was someone else’s domain. And I was no longer welcome—not as a husband, not even as a human being. Caleb Monroe came out of the house, his face lighting up with a smile. “Ryan!” he called, hurrying toward me. “You’re finally back! All these years studying abroad, and you didn’t visit us once. We’ve missed you!” I stared at his face, familiar and repulsive. Did he really believe I didn’t know the truth? That I had spent three years in Blackstone for him? Impossible. I could still hear Maddox’s words, the ones I overheard during a rare moment of solitude: “Mr. Monroe says this one’s trash. Do whatever you want with him, but make it hurt. Your reward is guaranteed.” The bribes Caleb had paid ensured my suffering. During those three years, Lydia only visited me once. I’ll never forget that day. Desperation clung to me like a second skin as I picked up the phone in the visitation room. “Lydia,” I begged, my voice cracking, “Caleb bribed Maddox to hurt me. I’ve already taken the blame for him—why is he still doing this?” “Please,” I pleaded, my throat tightening. “I can’t take this anymore. Get me out of here.” She laughed—a cold, empty sound. “What blame? You caused the accident, Ryan.” Her next words plunged me into despair: “You’re still trying to frame Caleb? You’ll never change. Stay here and learn your lesson. I’ll have Maddox work on fixing your attitude.” I screamed after her, ripping at my vocal cords until the sound became a garbled mess. “Lydia, I’ll die in here!” She hung up, walking away without a backward glance. Maddox heard about my plea and made me pay. He tied me to a wooden pole in the isolation chamber, stripping my shirt off and whipping me with a spiked lash. The barbs cut deep into my skin, leaving long, jagged scars that bled profusely. I blacked out from the pain, but they brought me back with electric shocks. When I was conscious again, they made me repeat degrading phrases, calling myself a worthless wretch unworthy of Lydia. If I hesitated, they pressed a knife to my fingers. The first time, I resisted. But when they pressed harder, threatening to sever the tendons in my hands, I broke. “I’m nothing! I’m unworthy of Lydia Hale!” I screamed until my voice was raw. But they didn’t stop there. The knife came down anyway, slicing clean through my ring finger. I didn’t even have the strength to cry out. My pain was their entertainment. Before I passed out again, I heard their laughter and jeers. “This is what happens when you cross Mr. Monroe. You’re nothing but a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

I deserve to be punished. But never for offending Caleb. Rather, it was for loving Lydia. Seeing me dazed, Lydia slapped my arm in an unkind manner, trying to rouse my thoughts. But when I saw her raise her hand, I hurriedly squatted down and covered my head, “Don’t hit me… It’s me who did wrong… Please… Don’t hit me anymore…” Seeing me like this, Lydia was stumped in place. She seemed to notice something was wrong and hurriedly asked, “Ryan, what’s wrong with you.” Caleb changed his face and blocked in front of Lydia so that she couldn’t see me before pretending to be concerned about me, “Ryan, are you not feeling well somewhere, let me help you to rest inside.” When I heard Caleb’s fake concern, my stomach instantly retched and I reflexively pushed Caleb away. However, I hadn’t used much force, but Caleb cried out and then fell to the ground, looking at me with a soft look. Lydia instantly got angry and pushed me away, rushing to Caleb’s side, “Caleb, are you alright, are you hurt?” Caleb gripped Lydia’s hand tightly and put on a look that I was the one who was aggrieved and said, “It’s me who didn’t stand still, it’s none of Ryan’s business.” Lydia heard Caleb’s words, even more angry tilted his head to look at me: “Ryan, you have not yet entered the house you are so bullying Caleb, went to prison for so long actually have not learned a good lesson.” I didn’t dare to refute Lydia. But I was already well-behaved enough. Those inmates knew that the warden was targeting me, and made things even more difficult for me. They would beat me up in groups while I was working, throw all my food on the floor during meals, step on my back to make me lie down on the floor, and lick up the food like a dog. When I didn’t finish licking, they would step on my head and force me to finish licking. Then laugh as if I was their next meal. The warden and the other guards knew about it, but no one came out to refute it. Oh, there was that too. There was a new guard who couldn’t stand to look at me and help me, but he ended up being taken by the warden to the small dark room and beaten half to death that day, and the next day he went to serve elsewhere. So no one dares to help me in this prison. They all bullied me. Some of them even got a reward from the prison warden for bullying me, which is why they are even more unrestrained. Lydia helped Caleb into the house. I hesitated outside the door for half a day, but still entered the house. It was winter now, and I was wearing thin clothes that didn’t fit the season, and it was really cold outside. Just as I entered the house, I could smell the smell of seafood emanating from the dining table. I resisted the urge to vomit and followed Lydia’s lead to the dining table. “Ryan, I remember you used to love seafood the most, I don’t know if you’ve changed in the few years you’ve been abroad.” Caleb said and put the seafood on the plate in my bowl. The fishy odor of the seafood rushed directly into my nose, causing my breath to stutter. Then it was those things in my stomach that were churning. I slammed my head down and grabbed the corner of the table to vomit. But it was still the same, there was nothing in my stomach in the first place, and now even if I wanted to vomit, I couldn’t get anything out. Caleb immediately said as if he felt sorry for me, ”Ryan, what’s wrong with you? Is it because the food I made is not to your liking? Or did you go abroad for so long and change your tastes, tell me and I’ll go and redo it for you.” Lydia pulled Caleb away and glared viciously at me, “Ryan, what tricks are you playing again? Caleb knew that you were coming back today and made your favorite meal early, how hard is it to make Caleb’s heart feel like this now.” I raised my eyes, and with tear-stained eyes, I saw Lydia’s undisguised hatred for me. But I didn’t ah. My stomach had already gone bad a long time ago. After I asked Lydia for help that time, the prison warden had locked me in a small dark room where I couldn’t reach my fingers after torturing me in order to punish me. For three whole days I didn’t eat a single meal or drink a single mouthful of water, just lying on the ground like that. It was as if I was waiting for my death. Until I was about to starve to death, the door of the small dark room was opened. The warden walked in with a bowl of stinking rice, and when he threw the bowl in front of me, the smell made my stomach instantly sick. He pressed my head and placed my mouth on that rancid rice and said mockingly, “You cheap bastard, you can only eat these dog’s rice know?” I tasted the rotten meat that no dog would eat, and it was so hard that I wanted to vomit. But I had to eat in order to stay alive. So I picked up the bowl and wolfed down all that rotten rice, as if I couldn’t taste them as long as I ate fast. But it was no use, the flavor spread from my five senses to my lungs, making my whole body want to vomit. “Look at 1931, you guys are like an animal, what a lowly person, just like that you still want to compete with Mr. Monroe for Miss Hale? What a fool’s dream.” “You natural born bitch, calling you a dog insults the dog, you don’t deserve Miss Hale at all.” “1931, you should be tortured in prison for robbing Mr. Monroe.” In the midst of their mockery, I spit out another stream of those things I had just eaten. After that, my stomach was bad. Never again could I smell these smelly things. Even just eating something good was unbearable.

Lydia grew angrier as she watched me, grabbing more seafood with her chopsticks and slamming it into my bowl. “Eat! Eat it all! Caleb worked hard to prepare this. You’re not allowed to waste a single bite.” Her tone left no room for argument. I grabbed the bowl with trembling hands, shoveling the food into my mouth as if by instinct. Years in Blackstone Correctional had trained me to obey commands without hesitation—disobedience only invited more pain. I ate mechanically, forcing the food down like a lifeless automaton. But my stomach couldn’t handle the rich, fishy flavor anymore. As soon as I swallowed, waves of nausea gripped me, and I began to gag uncontrollably, trying to keep the food down. It didn’t take long to finish what was on my plate, but the effort left me doubled over, pounding my chest in a futile attempt to ease the burning discomfort. Then, without warning, my body betrayed me. I retched violently, expelling everything I’d just eaten onto the floor. Lydia leapt back with a look of pure disgust, clutching her nose. “Ryan Sterling, what the hell are you doing?” Her disgust was palpable. I remembered she had a severe aversion to anything unclean. In a panic, I grabbed a rag and began scrubbing the floor with shaking hands, muttering under my breath. “I’m sorry… I did something wrong… Please don’t hit me… Please don’t hit me…” I repeated the words like a broken record, lost in the cycle of apology. Lydia noticed something was wrong, her brows knitting together as she hesitantly stepped closer. “Ryan? What’s wrong with you?” I recoiled from her approach, crouching defensively and clutching my head. “Stay away! I didn’t do anything wrong! Don’t hit me…” Her confusion deepened. “Who’s hitting you?” Caleb interjected, his voice slick with false concern. “Lydia, he’s clearly unwell and rambling nonsense. He’s been abroad, remember? No one’s hitting him.” Her initial suspicions faltered at his reassurance. Caleb was careful to keep her ignorant about what had really happened to me in Blackstone. She shook her head, brushing it off. “Caleb, call a doctor to take a look at him. I don’t want him dropping dead in my house—it’d be bad luck.” Caleb nodded quickly, dragging me upstairs to a bedroom. He locked the door behind him, leaving me alone. Lying on the bed, I took deep, gasping breaths of fresh air. The quiet and solitude were almost unbearable after so long. After calming down, I made my way to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. As I pulled off my gloves, I caught sight of my left hand—the missing tip of my ring finger a cruel reminder of the hell I’d endured. Even with prosthetics, my hands were ruined for music. My hearing was too damaged to feel the nuances of sound. The piano, my first love, was lost to me forever. I rinsed my face and returned to the room, staring at the closet. I began packing what little belonged to me, determined to leave this place—a house that had once been my home, but now felt like a stranger’s domain. Just as I zipped my bag shut, I heard a voice echo from downstairs. “Ryan Sterling, that little bastard, is back? Where is he?” The sound froze me in my tracks, my stomach tightening with dread. I recognized the voice.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295144”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #魔幻Magic #重生Reborn