Category: English

In the middle of the night, I got up to feed the baby and caught my husband satisfying his urges in the bathroom. That’s not a big deal. I’m still breastfeeding, and the stretch marks from carrying twins haven’t faded yet. I can understand if he’s not in the mood. But when I saw the photo he was looking at, I completely lost it. It was Melody, a girl he dated during our breakup period. I slapped him and asked if he’d been using Melody’s photos to get off for the past year and more that he hadn’t touched me. He calmly straightened his clothes and smiled. “Not just this past year. Even when we were doing IVF and I had to provide sperm samples, I did it this way!” Chloe I’m Chole. It was the middle of the night when I got up to feed my babies. As I passed by the bathroom, I noticed the door was slightly ajar. The light was off, but I could hear the faint sound of running water. I had a hunch about what was going on. Since I got pregnant, Alex and I hadn’t been intimate for safety reasons. Now, six months after giving birth, he still hadn’t touched me. I understood – I was still breastfeeding, and my body hadn’t fully recovered yet. Quietly, I pushed the bathroom door open. In the dim light from his phone, I could see Alex’s back, slightly hunched over. One hand was braced against the wall, while the other… A wave of sympathy washed over me. I called out his name softly, intending to go and embrace him. We were overdue to resume our normal marital life. But Alex turned around, startled. The look of desire in his eyes instantly cleared when he saw me. And I… in that moment when he turned, I clearly saw what was on his phone screen. It was a photo of Melody. Melody Lin. The girl Alex had dated for three months during our breakup. Rage boiled up inside me. My outstretched arms, ready to embrace him, instead swung around in a vicious slap across his face. I screamed at him, asking if he had been using Melody’s photos to satisfy himself all this time – over a year – that he hadn’t touched me. He locked his phone screen and started adjusting his clothes, as if I’d ruined his mood. I grabbed his collar, demanding answers. He showed no guilt whatsoever. Looking me up and down with a smirk, he said something that shattered me completely: “Not just this past year. Even when we were doing IVF, when I had to provide sperm samples – I used her photos then too!” Chloe His words hit me like a thunderbolt. I stood there, stunned, as he finished straightening his clothes and left the bathroom. The dark mirror reflected my unkempt, ghost-like appearance. No wonder he wasn’t attracted to me. I remembered our IVF treatments at the hospital. The doctor had Alex go to a private room to provide his sample. He was in there for a long time. Another woman doing IVF told me wives were allowed to go in and “help” if needed. I knocked on the door. Alex opened it just a crack. I asked if he wanted me to come in and help. He slammed the door shut and locked it. At the time, I thought he was just embarrassed. Now I realized he didn’t need me – he had been using Melody’s photos instead. The thought that our precious babies, the fruit of our love, were somehow tainted by Melody’s involvement made me sick. But I had brought this on myself. Before we got married, Alex and I had broken up for eight months. I was the one who dumped him. He was two years younger than me, fresh out of college with a mediocre job and no ambition. He spent all his free time playing video games, while my male coworkers were getting promotions and six-figure salaries. My family was pressuring me to settle down, buy a house, get married. I tried to talk to Alex about buying a place together. His parents, both working class, agreed to help with the down payment if we took out a mortgage for the rest. I was fine with that, but my mom complained. She said my cousins’ husbands had all bought houses outright, or at least covered the mortgage payments themselves. Plus they bought cars too. My mom felt that since I was prettier and had a better job than my cousins, I deserved better than what Alex could offer. I understood my mom’s perspective, and I understood Alex’s family’s limitations. So I tried to mediate between everyone, which left me emotionally drained. But Alex didn’t understand my position at all. When I was working overtime, he was playing games. When I was on the phone placating my mom, he was playing games. When I wanted to go look at apartments, he made excuses not to come – and I’d return to find him still gaming. Fed up and full of resentment, I broke up with him. I packed all his things from our apartment into one suitcase. The afternoon he left, carrying just that suitcase, I felt a twinge of guilt knowing he was going to crash at a friend’s place. But I pushed it aside. After that, work kept me extremely busy with long hours and business trips. I was too preoccupied to deal with Alex’s attempts to reconcile. By the time things slowed down, nearly six months had passed. Alex seemed to have gotten through the worst of the breakup. And I found I felt surprisingly liberated being single. Potential suitors started appearing, some with very impressive credentials. But then my best friend called with some news – Alex was dating someone new, a girl named Melody who apparently looked a lot like me. At first I just felt bad for him. We’d been together since high school and had a deep emotional bond. The fact that he was so hung up on me that he found a lookalike replacement was kind of touching, in a sad way. My friend also mentioned that the breakup had been a wake-up call for Alex. He’d done some serious self-reflection and was now much more driven at work. His company had launched a new game that he helped develop. He’d even gotten a promotion and stock options. It seemed the old saying was true – you plant the seeds, someone else reaps the harvest. I had sacrificed our relationship to motivate Alex to improve himself, only for this Melody girl to enjoy the results. Maybe it was that seed of resentment that made me lose my composure when I finally saw Alex again. I had just returned to the city when I happened to see Alex dropping Melody off at the train station. I was waiting for a taxi when I spotted them getting out of Alex’s new car. My first thought was that Melody really did look remarkably similar to me. Watching Alex wrap his arm tenderly around her waist, I was overcome with jealousy and regret. For the first time since our breakup, I realized I still loved Alex. I waited by his car for him to return from seeing her off. When he came back, I said simply, “Alex, I’m back.” I saw his eyes well up with tears, but he stood frozen in place. I went to embrace him. “You’ve finally grown up,” I said. “My tough love worked after all.” He pushed me away, then couldn’t resist reaching out to wipe my tears. I hugged him again. He pushed me away again. “Why are you back now?” he asked. “I have a girlfriend.” But three months of dating couldn’t compare to our years of history. Though he was rejecting me, I could see the pain and longing in his eyes. I begged and pleaded with him for days. My mom even flew in when she heard what was happening. She had a private conversation with Alex. I don’t know what she said, but afterwards – despite looking unhappy – Alex agreed to get back together with me. After eight months apart, everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction. Alex could afford a house now, and he had a nice car. My mom had stopped constantly criticizing him now that he was more successful. We got married quickly. I was confident Alex would soon forget about Melody, who he’d only known for three months. But I never imagined Alex would say what he did that night in the bathroom… Chloe After leaving the bathroom, Alex and I had a huge fight. The babies woke up crying, and my mom – who was staying with us to help with childcare – was startled awake as well. The whole house erupted into chaos in the middle of the night. When my mom found out the reason for our fight, she collapsed onto the sofa, looking faint. I panicked and took her blood pressure – 190 over 90. She was already exhausted from helping with the babies. Now the shock had triggered her hypertension. To his credit, Alex immediately stopped arguing and rushed to get her medication and water. Once she’d calmed down a bit, my mom launched into a tirade from her spot on the couch: “Alex, how can you be so heartless? Don’t you know how much Chloe has sacrificed for you, how much she’s suffered? She’s been with you since she was 18. You had nothing back then – your family was dirt poor. But Chloe didn’t care. She even fought with me over you. “Later on, it was Chloe’s idea to break up with you to motivate you to improve yourself. That’s the only reason you’re successful now. Don’t look at me like that – don’t think Chloe came back to you just because you’re doing well now. With her looks and job, she could have any man she wanted. She had plenty of suitors who were more successful than you. “She’s always put you first, and this is how you repay her… Is that homewrecker still chasing after you? Let me tell you, she only wants your money. If you were broke, do you think she’d give you a second glance? “Chloe went through so much to have your babies. Do you know how many injections she had to take for the IVF treatments? And now you won’t even touch her? How can you live with yourself?” My mom went on and on. Alex didn’t say a word, but his demeanor became much more subdued. The next morning, Alex got up early to make breakfast. He hadn’t cooked in ages. The table was laden with all my mom’s favorite dishes – a clear peace offering. Seeing my mom’s blood pressure still dangerously high, I swallowed my anger and resentment. For the next few days, Alex was the model husband and son-in-law. He came home on time every day to cook dinner. He helped clean the house and take care of the babies so my mom could rest. After the kids were asleep, he’d sit at his computer to finish up work from the day. I wanted to find a good time to have a real conversation with him. Maybe what he’d said that night was just spoken in anger. But before I got the chance, disaster struck. My mom got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and suffered a massive stroke. By the time we got her to the hospital, the doctors told us to prepare for the worst. She passed away before we could even get her back home. She never got to see my dad one last time. I was devastated and consumed with guilt. My mom had died from the stress of helping care for my children. Throughout the entire funeral, I could barely stand up straight from sobbing. They say true character is revealed in times of crisis. Despite our recent conflict, Alex really stepped up when my family needed him most. He handled all the funeral arrangements. Since I only have one sister and no brothers, Alex took on the traditional son’s duties – carrying the casket, holding the memorial banner, coordinating with guests, looking after my dad… All the neighbors commented on what a good son-in-law my mom had found. After we laid my mom to rest, I felt a huge weight lift despite my grief. Alex and I may have lost our passion, but it was clear he still cared for me deeply. Melody was no real threat to our marriage after all. Alex I’m Alex Chen. Pathetic Alex Chen. The day Chloe dumped me, I left our apartment like a stray dog being kicked to the curb. Years of love and memories reduced to a single suitcase. I boarded a bus, clutching that suitcase, with no idea where to go. I rode it to the end of the line, then got on the return trip. Back and forth. I spent that entire afternoon aimlessly crisscrossing the city on the Number 25 bus. Until 10 PM when service ended for the night. Standing alone at the bus stop, I broke down sobbing like a lost child. I knew I wasn’t good enough for her. I knew her mom was putting pressure on her to settle down. So I’d tried talking to her mom directly, behind Chloe’s back. Her mom called me a worthless bum. A penniless loser. I understood her desire to see her daughter with someone better. But they wouldn’t even give me a chance to prove myself. I told them I was helping develop a new game at work. They assumed it was just an excuse to play video games all day. Even so, I wanted to win Chloe back. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing the girl I’d dreamed of a future with. So I crashed at a friend’s place and tried everything I could think of to contact her. But she seemed too busy to care. Too busy to even be heartbroken over our breakup. During that time, I was in agony. I lost over 40 pounds. My mom was worried sick. She started working a second job after her regular shift, trying to save up money to help me buy a house someday. She even went behind my back to talk to Chloe’s mom. My mom said they could not only help with the down payment, but chip in for the mortgage payments too. Chloe’s mom asked, “What about a car?” My mom said they were getting older, so they could sell their house when the time came to buy me a car. What Chloe’s mom said next, I’ll never forget as long as I live: “So we have to wait until you’re dead to free up money for a car? That could be decades from now. If you can’t give up your life to buy your son a car right this second, don’t waste my time. My daughter can have any man she wants. She’s got a rich guy pursuing her right now. Tell your son to stop pathetically chasing after her and getting in her way.” My mom came home that day and collapsed from stress. She never recovered. Less than two months later, she fell into a hepatic coma and passed away. I couldn’t blame anyone but myself. My own inadequacy had killed my mother. My mom’s death made me give up on Chloe completely. I met Melody at my mom’s funeral. She worked at the crematorium but had an unusually upbeat personality. At first, I was drawn to her because of her resemblance to Chloe. But soon I found myself genuinely attracted to her character. Melody was adamantly against marriage. She had a carefree attitude that set her apart from most people. She had a healthy perspective on life and death, and a clear-eyed view of the world. On the surface she seemed flippant, but she was actually quite philosophical. With Melody’s encouragement, I threw myself into my passion for gaming. The project I was working on became a huge success. I’d finally found my path in life. Just as Melody and I had started dating, Chloe came back. She knew exactly how to manipulate me. She cried about how much she’d missed me. She knew just what to say to tug at my heartstrings. She even claimed breaking up with me was all part of a plan to motivate me to improve myself. It was absurd. But I softened anyway. I felt a twinge of sympathy for her, but I never intended to leave Melody. Until Chloe’s mom got involved again. I have to admit, the old woman was crafty. Before approaching me, she went to Melody first. When we met, she played me a recording of her conversation with Melody. She had told Melody our whole history, even playing her recordings of me begging Chloe to take me back after our breakup. She even had a recording of my mom pleading with her. I knew Melody wasn’t the type to be easily manipulated. But I’d forgotten one crucial thing: Melody was a free spirit who hated complications. After Melody refused to break up with me, Chloe’s mom showed up at the crematorium where she worked. She caused a huge scene, screaming that Melody was a homewrecker who had destroyed her daughter’s relationship. Just as Melody was about to call security, Chloe’s mom suddenly changed tack. She apologized profusely, claiming she’d mistaken Melody for someone else. Then she whispered, “If you don’t break up with him, next time I won’t pretend it was a mistake. I’ll keep harassing you, and my daughter will keep chasing after Alex. Your life will become a living hell. You’ll end up breaking up with him anyway.” Melody’s feelings for me weren’t deep enough yet to weather that kind of storm. So she let me go with her typical nonchalance. But she got in one last jab at the old woman: “Now that I’m voluntarily stepping aside, I’ll always be the one that got away – the unattainable ideal in Alex’s heart. Your daughter will forever live in my shadow.” Listening to the recording of Melody’s carefree voice, I felt the happiness I’d grasped slipping through my fingers once again. My mind went blank. I stared at Chloe’s mom, my face expressionless. The hatred I’d been suppressing exploded silently inside me. My mother’s death, all the times I’d swallowed my pride and anger – I wanted to settle those accounts one by one. Since they’d handed me this opportunity on a silver platter, it would be rude not to take advantage. I pretended to gradually give in to Chloe and her mother’s relentless pressure. Then I agreed to marry Chloe, as if it were the natural progression of events. After we were married, Chloe initiated intimacy a few times, then started bringing up whose name should be on the house deed. I magnanimously offered to pay for the house in full and add her name to the deed as our joint property. She wasn’t as thrilled by this as I’d expected. Her mom also made several comments about so-and-so’s husband putting the house solely in the wife’s name. And how their daughter-in-law wasn’t nearly as pretty as Chloe. I went along with looking at properties but remained noncommittal about the name on the deed. We found a development we liked and were waiting for a promotional discount period. When the sale started, I conveniently had to go on a business trip. The mother-daughter duo finally lost patience. They called me repeatedly, insisting I transfer the money immediately before the discounted price expired. I knew exactly what they were up to, but I sent the money anyway. Sure enough, they bought a finished property and rushed to get the deed processed as quickly as possible – with only Chloe’s name on it. When I returned from my “business trip,” I didn’t say much. I just quietly saved the bank transfer records. Later, Chloe’s mom started pushing for me to get a new car. So they persuaded me to sell my car. Once again, I was conveniently out of town when they bought the new one – registered solely in Chloe’s name. We only got officially married after all this was settled. The house and car were now considered Chloe’s premarital assets. Before the wedding, I met up with Melody one last time. She smiled as she tried to comfort me: “Don’t be sad. If you’d stayed with me, you might never have gotten married or had kids. I’d rather be the one that got away than a constant thorn in your side.” I asked if she’d regret never marrying or leaving anything behind after she was gone. She said she planned to donate her eggs, so she wouldn’t leave nothing behind. After that conversation, I had some new things to consider. I approached the wedding with an unexpected sense of anticipation. It wasn’t until over a year into our marriage that Chloe realized the gravity of our situation. She said she wanted to get checked out at the hospital. Figure out why she wasn’t getting pregnant yet. Her mom was anxious too. She said Chloe shouldn’t go alone – what if I was the one with fertility issues? She ranted about how some seemingly healthy men turn out to have problems in that department. How they trick women into marrying them without disclosing their condition. How those men should be forced to pay compensation for the deception. And so, amidst her mother’s pointed comments, we embarked on a long journey of fertility treatments. Neither of us had any medical issues, yet Chloe still couldn’t conceive. I admit I was secretly sabotaging our efforts. But maybe it was also fate. Finally, we turned to IVF as our last resort. My real show was about to begin. Everything proceeded according to my plan. I was just waiting for the right moment to unleash my pent-up, almost maniacal resentment. That night, before Chloe got up to feed the babies, I snuck into the bathroom early. I turned the water on full blast – loud enough to draw her attention. She came in, about to embrace me. I quickly pulled up a photo of Melody on my phone, deliberately angling it so Chloe would see. When she raised her hand to slap me, I let go of my last shred of sympathy for her. I told her that even during our IVF treatments, I’d used Melody’s photos to “produce my samples.” I knew she couldn’t handle that kind of shock. Sure enough, she came out and started a huge fight with me. Predictably, it woke up her mom. And just as predictably, her mom’s blood pressure spiked dangerously. Right on cue, I played the role of the remorseful son-in-law who’d been manipulated. I showed my contrition through actions. Every day, I cooked meals catered to her mom’s tastes. I prepared a variety of dishes. But they all had one thing in common: High sodium. High salt. High calorie. The kind of food that causes constipation. I insisted on doing all the housework so her mom would rest as much as possible after meals. When she sat on the sofa after dinner, legs crossed, snacking on sunflower seeds and watching TV, I’d bring her more snacks. Within days, she suffered a massive stroke. She died on the toilet, straining to have a bowel movement. … Cruel, wasn’t it? After the funeral, I asked my reflection in the mirror. The face staring back at me twisted into a grotesque expression. “No,” it said. “The real show is just beginning…”

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I know I gave birth to a healthy baby girl. But when I woke up, she’d been swapped with a baby with a cleft palate. Dan, my husband, says I’m so upset I must be hallucinating. Tyler, my son, also claims his sister has a cleft palate and that I’m imagining things. But I happened to discover that Dan’s old flame, Sophie, had been born with a cleft palate herself. I suspect they swapped my baby girl. “She’s here! A baby girl! Look how precious she is—Mom, do you want to hold her?” Though weak and exhausted, I gazed lovingly at the tiny, rosy face of my daughter as the nurse, Lorna, handed her to me. Her little nose scrunched up—adorable as could be. Gently, I kissed her forehead before drifting off to sleep, finally at peace. When I woke, Tyler was leaning over the cradle, playing with the baby. I was a bit surprised, considering how he’d complained about having a new sibling. “Mom, you’re finally up. She’s hungry. You better feed her.” His tone was bossy, and I frowned slightly. Tyler picked up the baby and plopped her into my arms, catching me off guard. “Aah!” I couldn’t stop the cry that escaped as I stared down at her face. She looked darker, wrinkly, and, worst of all, her upper lip and nose were connected by a gap—a cleft. Startled, she began to cry, the cleft stretching wider as she wailed. “What’s wrong with you? You scared her!” Tyler shot me a disgusted look. “This isn’t your sister.” My voice came out louder than I’d expected. I was sure, completely sure, that my daughter had been healthy—not this baby with a cleft palate. “I didn’t think you could be so heartless,” Tyler said, his tone filled with disdain. “Just because she’s not perfect, you’re going to reject her? What kind of mother does that?” “Besides, with all the money you have, it’s only a matter of time to fix her cleft, so why be so cruel? No matter what, she’s your child.” Money wasn’t the issue; this just wasn’t my child. “How did I end up with a mom like you? You’re nothing like Aunt Sophie. I wish she were my mom instead.” Each word of his struck me cold. I stared at him, my mind racing as a thought chilled my heart—Sophie had been born with a cleft palate. I remembered seeing old photos from when she’d had it corrected. “I don’t know who taught you to say all this, but I’ll ask you once: Where is your real sister?” “What are you talking about? This is her.” Tyler’s eyes darted nervously, avoiding my gaze. Since he was five, Tyler had begged to have Aunt Sophie around, constantly looking for reasons to find fault with me. His attitude only slightly improved when I got pregnant with Ella. As I looked at his face, it struck me like a slap that he might know something about all this. I let go of the crying baby in my arms and struggled to get out of bed. “Where are you going?” “Well, since you won’t tell me, I’ll go find out myself.” “You can’t!” I didn’t have time to listen to him. Just then, Tyler charged toward me like a bullet and shoved me backward. I hit the floor, pain piercing through me. As I clutched my abdomen, a wave of fury rose within. “I already told you! She’s your real sister. Stop making this harder than it needs to be!” Whack— I slapped him, firm and sharp. “Don’t call me ‘Mom’ anymore. I’m done with you.”

While he stood there stunned, I slapped him again—twice, hard. “I just had a baby, and you’re trying to break me, just so Sophie can be your new mom?” Tyler’s eyes brimmed with tears as he stared at me in shock, then balled his little fists and took a swing at me. I shoved him back; after all, he’d already pushed me to the ground. His loud, tearful cry cut through my head. Nurse Lorna entered, instructing us to quiet down. Then, in came Dan and Sophie. Dan quickly apologized to the nurse and consoled Tyler. “Mom hit me! She pushed me and won’t even feed my sister!” Sophie, who had been watching with an indifferent look, suddenly spoke up. “Katherine, no matter what, you shouldn’t hit the boy. A real mother always puts her kids first—you’re just not a good mother.” Looking self-righteous, Sophie scooped up the crying baby. “I’m not saying this to be mean, but you can’t just leave a newborn hungry.” I ignored Sophie as she tried to place the baby in my arms, turning instead to Dan. “What’s she doing here? Didn’t you promise to cut contact?” Before Dan could answer, Sophie interjected. “I came here on my own. I know I was wrong in the past, and I wanted to apologize, maybe even start fresh and be friends.” “Come on, Kate, just feed the baby.” Remembering Sophie’s past meddling and Tyler’s constant complaints, I didn’t trust her in the slightest. Especially now. She had only been out of our lives a few months, and suddenly, my healthy child was a baby with a cleft palate—just like Sophie had once been. Coincidence? Not a chance. “If you’re so eager, then you feed her because she’s not my daughter. Nurse, can you check the security footage?” I turned to Nurse Lorna. “Kate, please stop. I know it’s hard to accept, but this is just how it is. Our daughter has a cleft palate.” Dan held my arm and nodded at the nurse, as if to signal I was unwell. “My wife’s just having trouble accepting it. Thanks for understanding.” Dan’s resistance only cemented my suspicions. They’d swapped my baby. But was she even safe?

“Kate, these days, cleft palates are easy to fix. Our little girl’s still going to grow up to be a beautiful princess, everyone’s darling.” “Look, I know you’re hurt having a baby with a cleft palate, but she’s still your daughter. Accepting it and treating her now will make all the difference, and money’s not a problem for us.” Dan thought he had it all worked out: using my money to fix his child and turn my son against me, draining me dry. “This isn’t my baby. If you want her treated, then pay for it yourself.” Dan’s face twisted as he struggled to hold back. Then he looked at me knowingly. “So, you’re upset I came here with Sophie?” “Kate, I had no idea she’d be here. We just ran into each other. Sophie, it’s better if you go. You know Kate will get jealous.” Dan tried his old sweet-talking tricks, and the sight of him made me sick. Sophie opened her mouth to speak, but Dan’s glare silenced her. She went, sulking.

“No need. Sophie isn’t the child’s real mother, so she can stay right where she is.” Sophie’s shoulders stiffened, her back to me. Dan chuckled and ran his hand over my head, patting it as if I were a child. “Katherine, there’s nothing going on between me and Sophie. You really don’t need to keep testing me like this.” “Is it that you weren’t there when I was giving birth that’s making you feel so insecure? I was at work when I got the call, and I rushed over as soon as I could.” “Oh yeah, Kate,” Sophie chimed in smoothly, “there’s really nothing between me and Dan. And anyway, my family doesn’t even have a history of cleft palates. I heard it’s genetic, right? And Dan’s family doesn’t have any history of it either.” As Sophie spoke, her shoulders visibly relaxed, her words dropping hints that maybe the cleft palate came from my side of the family. She was convincing, really putting on a show. If I hadn’t seen that old photo of her with the cleft surgery scar, I might have believed her. I snorted, not bothering to say whether I believed her or not. For now, my daughter was still missing, and I’d wait until the police arrived before settling this. Meanwhile, Tyler, ever the loyal son, defended his father. “Dad, it’s because you’ve spoiled her too much, letting her act out. Once my sister is older, she won’t put up with this behavior either.”

“Tyler.” I rarely used his full name, and he froze, suddenly tense. “I didn’t say anything wrong, right, Aunt Sophie?” He stammered before hiding behind Sophie’s arms. I took a deep breath. After everything I’d done for Tyler—dropping work to nurse him through fevers, learning to cook his favorite foods, carefully picking out his birthday gifts year after year, doing everything he asked of me. “Tyler, I’ll ask you one last time. Is that your real sister in the crib?” “Kate—” “Shut up, Dan. I wasn’t talking to you.” I cut him off, my voice sharp. Tyler shrank back into Sophie’s arms, avoiding my eyes. “Mom, stop making a fuss—” I shut my eyes, not willing to hear any more.

“Katherine, so what if she has a cleft palate? You can’t just deny her, right?” Sophie’s voice was loud, ensuring that others nearby would hear. Disapproving glances cast our way made the sting worse. I glanced at Dan, who finally shot Sophie a scolding look. “Sophie, that’s enough. Kate’s under a lot of stress. She didn’t mean what she said, so stop making it worse.” Dan’s words looked like he was defending me, but in truth, he’d cast me as a woman rejecting her child over a minor imperfection. In this story of ours, Dan played the “good husband” perfectly, except he kept digging me deeper into the pit. Using my money, blaming me—it was a charmed life for him and Sophie, wasn’t it? My phone buzzed with a message. I checked, scrolling through various photos of the two of them meeting up. Disgust churned in my gut. For the first time, I felt the deep betrayal in every photo. I’d been too busy with work to see what was right in front of me. But now? I’d make sure they paid.

When Officer Greg Harper arrived, I was lost in thought, wondering when exactly Tyler had changed. Tyler used to be that sweet kid who would rub my shoulders when I came home late. When had he grown so resentful of me? “Who reported this? We need to get a sense of the situation.” The officer’s question left Dan, Sophie, and Tyler visibly tense. “I did,” I answered. “I believe my baby daughter was swapped at birth. She was healthy, but now she has a cleft palate.” “Kate, why would you call the cops?” Dan blurted, forcing a sheepish smile as he turned to the officer. “I’m sorry for wasting your time, Officer,” he said, “but my wife’s been under a lot of stress. She’s having trouble accepting that our baby has a cleft palate.” “Cleft palates are genetic, Officer. There’s no history of it in my family going back three generations, but Dan’s ‘friend’ Sophie here—she had surgery to correct hers. I have proof.” “I’m sorry to have dragged you here based on just a suspicion,” I told the officer. “But I’m genuinely worried about my daughter’s safety and have no idea where she is or how she’s being treated.” My words were steady, contrasting with Dan’s attempts to paint me as hysterical. “What do you mean by that? You’ve had someone investigate me?” Sophie cried out as Dan tried to hush her, giving Tyler a nudge. “Mom, you can’t just pry into people’s privacy,” Tyler said, giving me a disapproving glare. “That’s illegal, isn’t it?” Officer Harper watched our tense exchange and finally said dryly, “Funny, the three of you look more like a family than any of you with her.” “Officer, I have records on my phone of the hotel stays between Dan and Sophie.” Dan lost his composure. “Kate, what are you doing? Trying to tear apart Tyler’s family just because you’re upset?” “Did I make you cheat, Dan? Did I spike your drink and shove you into bed with Sophie?” I knew exactly what Dan was trying to do: make me explode with anger so he could point to me as “unstable” and “unhinged.” “What gives you the right to break our family apart? You did this, Dan. You’re the one who tore this family to pieces.” “Kate, come on, no need to be this way. I’ve never done anything to betray you. If you’re this upset, I’m fine with pretending this child isn’t ours.” Incredibly, Dan kept a straight face, still denying his involvement with Sophie. Thinking it over, I spoke aloud. “Sometimes I’m amazed by your shamelessness, Dan. Living off my earnings while you support your mistress with my money. You couldn’t even keep this baby swap story straight.” Dan’s face flushed with anger, though he forced himself to stay calm. “Coward.” Dan pretended not to hear the insult. “Officer, if my wife suspects this isn’t our baby, why don’t we just ask Nurse Lorna? A cleft palate like that would certainly stand out.”

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In my past life, my half-sister Rose gave birth to a Great Serpent child, a feat that helped her husband, Silas King, secure his place as the King Family Heir. But as for me, I fought with every ounce of my strength, using the difficult Family Secret of the Goodwin line, only to give Silas a single snake child, Samuel. The eldest Prince, Silas, looked down on Samuel, calling him simple-minded and embarrassing. When Sammy failed to transform in a thousand years, Silas vented his anger by beheading him, and the heartbreak drove me to my death. When I opened my eyes again, it was back on the day of the royal selection for a bride for the King Family heirs. I watched Silas eagerly select Rose, my half-sister. And then I knew: he, too, had been reborn. He thinks picking Rose again will guarantee him a Young Serpent to secure the King Family’s future throne. But what he doesn’t know is that he lacks the Ancestral Power needed to father a child at all. The Goodwin Family line is renowned for its exceptional fertility, and this is the quality that binds us—our daughters chosen to bear heirs as if we were mere goods. Ordinary Goodwin daughters go to ordinary families in the Mountain Folk, but the Goodwin heirs, we are sought after by the most powerful families. This year, my sister and I turned 18, and we were taken to King’s Manor to be selected. Pain stabbed through my chest as I remembered that in my last life, Silas had chosen me, claiming that only a daughter from a proper bloodline would suit him. My sister, Rose, went to his younger brother, and she bore a Young Serpent—a clever, gifted child who quickly won the King Family’s favor. But for Silas, I had only Sammy, my small snake child. Still, Elder King Frederick favored Silas, granting him a thousand years to see if Sammy could Rise to Heir. But Sammy couldn’t manage, and Silas lost his chance at the throne. When I pleaded with Silas to grant Sammy more time, his answer was to sever Sammy’s head, which left me shattered and dying of grief. Returning to this day, my heart was still broken. I watched as Silas reached for Rose’s hand and felt a strange relief that somehow deepened my pain. My poor Sammy had trained so hard, was so sweet and eager to win his father’s favor, but Silas had cared only for his own ambitions. He hated my child. What Silas never realized is that he could not father children. Sammy was born only because I used the Goodwin Family Secret, an ancient magic that rarely works; I had failed a hundred times before Sammy finally came into my life. I clenched my fists, pressing down the well of rage. I would never forget how Silas, my husband, struck off my son’s head in a flash of heartless anger. Yet here we were, in the vast throne room of King’s Manor, on the day the four royal sons chose their wives. The Elder King, Frederick, sat above us, smiling as he addressed his sons. “It’s not easy for our King’s Bloodline to survive, but the Goodwin line has been blessed with abundant fertility. So, I’ve brought these four Goodwin daughters for you to choose from as wives, and we’ll do it in order.” Frederick was old, and he had used powerful means just to bring these sons into the world. The promise of an heir was so important to him that he’d declared whoever bore him a grandchild would be his successor. At his signal, Silas stepped forward. His eyes passed over each of us sisters with a cold, calculating look, but as he lingered on me, a flash of disgust showed. Finally, he moved toward Rose with determination. He didn’t notice my hand trembling at my side or the pallor of my face. “Father, I choose Rose as my wife.” Silas took Rose’s hand without hesitation, and she looked up, shy and surprised, with a blush that seemed to please him. But I knew his look well: it was the look of a man with ambitions in his eyes. He was reborn, too. Rose cast a fleeting glance at me, a look of smug satisfaction. My mother had been the first wife of the Goodwin heir and, as his only legitimate daughter, I’d inherited that position. Rose’s mother had tried long to become the primary wife, but my father refused. Silas, however, was the son of a primary wife, so Rose felt superior by being chosen by him. “You chose Rose?” Elder King Frederick asked, a bit surprised. To him, Silas’s position required him to marry a primary daughter. But Silas, remembering his past life, gave a hard smile and answered, “Father, my heart chose Rose the moment I saw her. It’s her I want.” Last time, Silas had married me, and the outcome was that our child was only a snake, an embarrassment that haunted him for a thousand years. He’d lost the throne and was laughed at for it. Reborn, he wasn’t about to risk the disappointment of having “a snake-breeder like Lily” as his wife. “Very well. Take your chosen bride and return to your estate.” The King respected Silas’s choice and allowed him to leave. I was unsurprised, but just as I thought I’d slip into the shadows, a soft voice behind me spoke, “Father, I choose her.” Startled, I looked up to see Evan, the second son, smiling down at me. In my last life, Evan had chosen no wife, so I was surprised. Yet my fate wasn’t mine to control. “Alright,” Elder King Frederick said, “then let Lily be yours, Evan. She’s the heir of the Goodwin line—a wise choice.” Evan extended his hand with a kind smile, and though uncertain, I took it. I knew our role in the family was lowly, born only to bear children and with no other talent. According to my father, it was “a blessing from our Goodwin ancestor” that we’d even been noticed by the King’s Bloodline. Evan took my hand, and we stepped away together. Annoyed, Silas looked at his brother. “Are you sure? She looks weak and worn. She might not even be able to bear a healthy child.” Silas, having been reborn, thought he knew everything about me. Evan, though, had been the only one in our past life who hadn’t ridiculed him, something Silas likely remembered. “Thank you for your advice, brother,” Evan replied evenly. “I’m no stranger to weakness myself. I care more for what feels right.” Silas’s frown deepened. He thought his advice was gracious, whether Evan appreciated it or not. This time, Silas was determined to be king. Soon after, the third brother and youngest brother also made their choices. Rose was now Silas’s bride, while I, unexpectedly, was Evan’s. We all left the hall as Elder King Frederick waved us on, his hopes set on each of us to secure an heir. In silence, Evan led me to Willow Manor. His hands were cold, and I could tell he wasn’t well. In my past life, I had taken on the brunt of the burden, even practicing the Family Secret to ensure Silas’s health. But this time, I wouldn’t sacrifice myself to heal another. When Silas carried Rose out of the hall, she blushed, hiding her face in his shoulder, while Silas left with an arrogant laugh. His brothers chuckled, but only I knew he didn’t truly love Rose. He only wanted the heir she might bear him. It was his ticket to the throne. As Evan and I reached the estate, I tried to look at him, and he returned my gaze with warmth. But in his eyes, I could see his own desire for an heir. It was natural, wasn’t it? After all, Evan was also an heir of the Mountain Folk. Evan left for the next three months, and I found myself alone in Willow Manor. Slowly, I settled in and started a small garden, raising vegetables and fruit. In the evenings, I would hear the palace gossip. People admired how Silas showered Rose with extravagant gifts, how he would bring in healers to check on her, and how he treated her as if she were the only woman in his world. It was strange, because I knew he wasn’t capable of such devotion. When Silas heard a rumor about his beloved Rose or felt she was unwell, he’d be at her side in a moment, doting and fretting. Their love story was now the talk of the town, a model of the perfect marriage. I simply laughed, remembering that in our past lives, Rose hadn’t conceived until a year into their marriage. As for me, I’d waited ten years to conceive Sammy. As I cut a small cucumber into the shape of a bird, a gentle voice behind me asked, “What are you doing, Lily?” Startled, I turned to find Evan smiling, though he seemed to have caught me murmuring to myself. I forced a smile. “Praying for peace,” I said, knowing he couldn’t hear the truth—that my ritual honored the memory of Sammy, my lost snake child, for whom I could do nothing in this life. Evan took my hand as we walked back, his voice soft and apologetic. He promised to care for me gently, even if he was often away. And as time passed, I saw that he was kind, patient, and good, unlike the harshness Silas had shown me in the past. After I conceived Sammy, Silas never touched me again. Just thinking about it fills me with dread, deep down. But with Evan, I couldn’t refuse him. “Lily, I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you; the duties have been endless lately. Please don’t be upset,” he said softly. I shook my head. “I’m not upset.” But even if I were, I wouldn’t dare show it. As a Goodwin, I didn’t have the right to anger. Evan led me to the bed, though he didn’t do anything, as if sensing my reluctance. Each day after that, we continued to share the same bed. He helped me tend to the vegetable garden, sometimes even taking me to the market to buy more seeds. Little by little, I began to feel at ease with him. By now, Rose and the youngest sisters, Amy and Clara, were all expecting. Elder King Frederick was thrilled and subtly pressed Evan and me to “catch up.” I felt embarrassed but promised the Elder King I’d try. Still, Evan and I hadn’t consummated our marriage even after nine months together. Elder King’s insistence didn’t change our quiet rhythm; we simply continued on in peace. Rumors had even begun to swirl around us. “If you want a steady, gentle marriage, choose a prince like Evan,” people would say, contrasting Silas’s fiery nature with Evan’s calm demeanor. But I found such talk dull. To me, Evan’s gentleness was the real prize. Perhaps sensing my reluctance, he hadn’t once pushed me into anything. Then, one day while we were out buying melon seeds, we crossed paths with Silas. He suggested we all have a meal together. Rose was positively radiant, draped in jewels and glowing with pride. Sitting beside Silas, she had the softness of a girl in love and the maturity of a woman used to admiration. As we ate, she and Silas constantly showed their affection, while Evan and I quietly focused on our food. Evan only occasionally answered when Silas spoke to him. After the meal, Rose turned to Silas with a girlish smile. “Silas, I’d like to chat with my sister for a bit. Could you wait for me?” Silas shot me a cold glance and nodded. “Of course, Rose, go ahead and speak with her,” he replied coolly. “It’s only natural you’d want to say hello.” As Silas and Evan stepped aside, Rose’s smug expression reappeared. “Sister, did you see how wonderful my life is now? Father’s even considering making my mother the primary wife.” I kept my expression calm. “Oh. Congratulations, then.” After all, having the title of Goodwin Family’s primary wife wasn’t so remarkable. Rose pouted but continued, “And the Prince has promised me that if I bear an heir, he’ll share the Ancestral Power with me. I’ll become something new, reborn.” My tone remained steady. “Then good luck with that.” Let’s see if she still smiles once she realizes Silas can’t father a child. Rose’s expression twisted slightly. “Silas really can’t stand you, you know.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not his wife. His opinion of me is irrelevant.” She huffed, frustrated. “Amy and Clara are both expecting. Meanwhile, there’s no sign of anything from you—are you sure you’re not barren? Even our family’s fertility isn’t a guarantee.” Seeing her annoyance, I countered, “And what about you? Trying every possible trick and still no news—is it possible that it’s Silas who’s…barren?” Rose’s face turned pale. She scowled and snapped, “What are you talking about? How dare you curse him!” She looked ready to strike, her frustration hitting a nerve. But even she wondered if Silas might be the problem.

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After my husband passed away, my mother-in-law, Evelyn, brought home a little boy. His face looked so much like Jack, my late husband, that it startled me. She told me he was my husband reborn, a chance to make amends. So, I devoted everything I had to raising him, making him the heir to Landon Enterprises. But the first thing he did after taking over the company was to torture me to death. As I lay dying, Jack appeared with his loyal protégé, Megan Starr. “Thanks for raising our son and building a billion-dollar empire. After you’re dead, our son will be there to send you off,” Jack sneered. I died in rage and heartbreak, only to open my eyes and find myself back on the very day my husband had faked his death. “Ms. Landon, Professor Hayes was in a terrible accident… They don’t think he’s going to make it. Please hurry to St. Andrews Medical Center… maybe… maybe you can still see him one last time…” Megan’s voice trembled with despair before breaking into sobs. Hearing Megan’s voice again, memories of my previous life rushed back, chilling my resolve. But I feigned shock, struggling to control my voice as I replied, “Jack… wait for me… I-I’ll be there soon!” I added with an edge, “Megan, tell the hospital to use whatever resources are necessary, the best treatment available. Landon Enterprises has no shortage of money!” Megan, so poised and disdainful, always looked down on me as if I were some vulgar merchant. But this time, she would learn just how powerful money could be. In my previous life, Jack had never been in a car accident at all. Megan had lied about his “imminent death” to lure me to the hospital, and overwhelmed by grief, I drove recklessly, crashing into oncoming traffic. By the time I woke up from surgery, Jack’s ashes were already in an urn. Not this time. If Jack wanted to fake his death, I’d gladly help him make it real. I quickly called Andrew Carson, my assistant, instructing him to pick up my mother-in-law, Evelyn, in my car and drive her to the hospital. Then, I went to my office’s hidden safe, retrieved a little “something,” and headed downstairs, taking along four bodyguards my father had insisted I keep by my side. We climbed into my armored car and headed for the hospital.

Outside St. Andrews Medical Center, Andrew’s anxious voice crackled through the phone. “Ms. Landon, I’m so sorry, the car was in an accident on Lexington Avenue!” “Are you hurt?” I asked, knowing well that this trap was meant for me, and that Andrew would be fine. But I asked anyway. “I’m fine, Ms. Landon. But Evelyn… her leg is broken.” Ha! The exact same injury I’d suffered before. Jack and Megan must be terrified I’ll get to the hospital on time. But I wouldn’t play into their plan. “Andrew, call the police for an investigation and then dial 911 for an ambulance to get her to the hospital!” I ordered calmly. She wouldn’t die so easily. Then, I called my chief lawyer, Sam Reese. “Sam, handle the accident on Lexington Avenue. Have the driver held for attempted murder. No settlements, only criminal charges.” “Yes, Ms. Landon!” he confirmed. Satisfied, I let my guards in on my act, stumbling out of the car with crocodile tears, sobbing and stumbling toward Jack’s hospital room. Behind me, the bodyguards exchanged bewildered glances.

Inside the hospital room, Jack lay under a white sheet. My abrupt entrance made Megan go pale. “Ms…Ms. Landon, h-how did you get here?” she stammered. Ignoring her and everyone else in the room, I clutched my mouth and collapsed to my knees, my muffled sobs rising into gut-wrenching wails. “Ms. Landon, I’m so sorry. Professor Hayes is… gone. You have my condolences,” Megan whispered, moving to offer me support. I sidestepped her, throwing myself onto Jack’s body, brushing his hair with trembling fingers and choking on my words, “Jack, how could you be so cruel, just leaving me like this? Jack… come back… open your eyes…” As I leaned over Jack’s body, I swiftly jabbed three needles into pressure points on his scalp, hidden within my sleeve. Landon Enterprises was founded on the medical expertise my grandfather passed down, and I was the sole inheritor of his rare acupuncture secrets. In my previous life, Jack had injected himself with a fake-death serum, concocted by him and Megan, that fooled the doctors and orchestrated the car accident to fool me. Together, they’d faked his death successfully, living carefree abroad for twenty years. By the time I raised their son and handed him Landon Enterprises, I was left broken and dying, having realized I’d been conned all along. Their serum had side effects, though. Without a counter-injection within two hours, Jack would actually die. With my needlework, I’d shortened that window by half an hour without leaving a single detectable trace. My work done, I stepped away from the miserable corpse, my voice barely audible as I instructed my bodyguard, Bobby, “Bring Evelyn to see her son one last time.” “Ms. Landon, but her leg…” Bobby hesitated. “Doesn’t matter. She’s his mother, and she has a right to say goodbye,” I replied. Megan’s eyes widened, panic flashing across her face as she murmured, “Ms. Landon, maybe it’s best not to tell her. Evelyn just had an accident and has a weak heart… if she hears Jack is dead, it might be too much.” Oh? Megan knew about Evelyn’s accident already. This car crash wasn’t some random act of fate. Ignoring her, I waved Bobby off with a weary gesture. He left immediately. “Ms. Landon, you’re being reckless!” Megan hissed. “Jack wouldn’t want you to endanger Evelyn, not after what happened!” “Ghosts? Oh yes, Jack, do come back and haunt me. Show me you care…” I whispered, quaking with feigned emotion, putting on the perfect show of a grieving, love-stricken widow. Megan’s practiced composure cracked. If she could play the composed saint, I could just as easily play the loyal, devoted wife. And I wouldn’t stop until they both suffered.

“Ms. Landon, we should prepare Jack’s arrangements and send him to the County Coroner’s Office,” Megan pushed, clearly anxious. So, she had accomplices waiting there. But I wasn’t in any rush. None of these schemers would be getting off easy. “Evelyn will be here soon,” I said, savoring the panic that washed over Megan’s face. “M-my son… my Jack… get up and look at me. I’m here, Jack!” Evelyn wailed, entering the room in an overdone display of grief, her voice cracked and dry, her eyes tearless. She seemed so heartbroken, yet her sorrow wasn’t genuine. In my previous life, I’d been blind. I’d thought Evelyn’s quick recovery from “losing her only son” was miraculous, and convinced myself that her devotion to their son, Jeremy, was simply love, failing to see the truth. “Evelyn… Jack is really gone,” I said, watching her body go rigid, her gaze darting nervously toward Megan. Megan gave her a barely noticeable shake of the head. Evelyn’s tension faded, and she resumed her display of anguish. As I withdrew the needles from Jack’s head, Evelyn’s face turned deathly pale, her hand clutching her chest. “Ah… my… heart… it hurts…” “Evelyn, are you okay? Don’t scare me!” I said, my tone dripping with fake concern, though I hadn’t moved an inch. “Move! She’s having a heart attack!” Megan screamed, pushing me aside. I let her. Switching to speaker, I called Evelyn’s cardiologist, Dr. Grey. “Dr. Grey, my mother-in-law’s heart condition has worsened. Please advise,” I sobbed. “…Ms. Landon, I’ve told you, her heart transplant can’t be delayed anymore. But we haven’t found a donor,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “If it were my husband’s heart… could it be a match?” “What?” My tearful voice wavered as I explained, “Dr. Grey, my husband just died in a car accident…” “Oh… my deepest condolences, Ms. Landon,” Dr. Grey replied, sadness mingling with a glimmer of hope. “It’s possible, Ms. Landon. I’ll bring my team immediately.” “No! I won’t allow it!” Megan and Evelyn both shouted in unison. Evelyn’s voice was weak, but she managed to raise a finger, pointing at me. “Rachel, my son just died, and you’re already after his heart! How heartless can you be?” Megan chimed in, “Yes, Ms. Landon, Jack feared pain. How could you? Let him be cremated, and let him rest.” I looked at them, tears welling up. “Mom, I wouldn’t suggest this if I had a choice. If Jack knew his heart could give you a longer life, he’d approve. And if possible… I’d like to donate his other organs to others in need, so Jack can live on in others.” Evelyn’s face flushed with fury. Unable to contain herself, she collapsed, sending the room into silence. Only Megan remained, shrieking, “Help! Help!” Just then, Dr. Grey and his team arrived. Seeing my chance, I clung to him, crying, “Dr. Grey, please save my mother-in-law. I can’t lose her, too!” Dr. Grey squeezed my hand. “I’ll do everything I can. If the transplant’s a success, Evelyn could have another two or three decades.” Yes, I’d been the one to find her a heart donor in my past life, ensuring Evelyn a long and healthy life even after I was gone. Remembering the cruelty they showed me back then, I felt my anger reignite. “Dr. Grey, I leave everything to you,” I said. “I’ll handle the paperwork.” With my consent, Dr. Grey split his team, one group taking Evelyn to surgery while the other prepared Jack’s “body” for organ retrieval. I caught Megan’s desperate expression as she clung to Jack’s bed, sobbing as if it were her own husband lying there. Unable to contain myself, I slapped her hard, saying, “Mind your place! This is my family business, not yours.” At my signal, Bobby yanked Megan away, her face blank with shock. Jack’s “body” was taken from the room. Megan was in disbelief. I wanted to see just how deep her so-called love for Jack ran. Sure enough, as Jack’s body disappeared down the hall, Megan finally broke, screaming, “Jack isn’t dead! He’s not dead…” What a laugh. The play is about to begin.

Megan’s outbursts had already crossed several lines. Dr. Grey looked at her coldly, a flicker of impatience crossing his face as he asked, “And who is she?” “Oh, she’s just one of my husband’s students, Dr. Grey,” I answered, stepping forward to block her from him. “Please don’t listen to her nonsense.” “No, Dr. Grey, I can prove it! I can prove that Jack’s still alive!” Megan’s voice was trembling, but her face was desperate and determined, as though she thought she could still salvage this disaster. I shot her a sharp look, and Bobby loosened his grip just enough for her to stumble free. She tore into her purse, pulling out a small insulated medical box and fumbling with the syringe inside it. Eyes wide with panic, she lunged toward Jack’s bed, trembling as she tried to inject him. I slapped her hard across the face, making her freeze. “Enough! Megan, you’re a medical student, yet you’re acting like a fool. Jack’s gone! What, are you going to bring him back from the dead with one injection?” “Ms. Landon, I swear, it’ll work! Jack’s only faking it. Just give him this shot!” Megan was crying now, her sobs disfiguring her face, her panic morphing into a pitiful display. Looking at her, I felt the same disgust I’d felt back when Jack betrayed me. I realized, at last, what Jack had sacrificed his life and career for—a second-rate, weeping fool. He must have been blind. Trying to keep up the pretense of professionalism, Dr. Grey approached and checked Jack’s vitals again, only to shake his head solemnly. Nearby, Jack’s attending physician, who had already lost patience, glanced at the clock and declared firmly, “It’s been exactly one hour, eighteen minutes, and twenty-six seconds since Professor Hayes was pronounced deceased. There’s no way he could be revived now.” The nurse beside him agreed, glancing at Megan with thinly veiled scorn. “Landon Enterprises’ CEO is his wife. If anyone wants him to be alive, it’s her. Who does this woman think she is?” “She must be his… mistress. Why else would she act this way?” I seized the moment, gesturing to Bobby. “Escort this lunatic out. She’s done enough damage.” It wasn’t yet the full hour and a half Jack’s serum would buy him, but there was no way I’d let Megan have her chance to save him. I wanted Jack to die beyond any doubt. As Bobby dragged her, she screamed until her voice cracked, but no one believed her. They assumed she was just another woman gone mad over a married man. Watching Dr. Grey handle the syringe Megan had dropped, I feigned curiosity. “Dr. Grey, are you sure that shot couldn’t bring him back? Maybe… we should try it?” He examined it for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Ms. Landon, but Jack has truly passed. My condolences.” The grief in my eyes gradually dimmed, and I whispered, “Is there no hope, then?” The attending doctor approached, a pen and a death certificate ready. “Ms. Landon, if you’re ready, please sign here.” I took the form, my hands shaking as I signed, then collapsed into muffled sobs, my face hidden behind trembling hands. “Oh, Jack… how could you be so heartless…” I wailed. Everyone in the room saw my raw despair, murmuring to each other. “Ms. Landon, you have to stay strong. Your mother-in-law needs you. You’ve made the right decision to help her,” someone murmured. “Yes, this poor woman… so much grief to endure,” said another. After I signed the death certificate, Sam arrived, placing the organ donation forms in front of me. I handed them to him and then watched as Dr. Grey and his team wheeled Jack’s “body” down the hall to the surgery room.

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My boss handed me $20,000 in cash to pay the workers. I only stepped out to buy some envelopes, and by the time I got back, my dad had lent the money to our neighbor for a house. When I confronted him, he told me I didn’t understand “neighborly obligations.” Even Mom and my brother blamed me for not hiding the money better, knowing full well that Dad had a habit of loaning cash out. Eventually, my boss fired me but didn’t call the police. He only asked me to pay the money back. To help me do that, my dad arranged a high-paying job for me. But when I got there, it turned out I’d been hired as a caretaker for an old man who assaulted me on the first day. I wanted to call the police, but my dad insisted I should “be compassionate” toward the elderly. It didn’t end there; the old man’s daughter thought I was trying to seduce her father and had people beat me to death. Then I opened my eyes—back to the day my dad had loaned our neighbor that money. “Dani, no need to come back to the office after picking up the cash. Head straight to the Highland Ridge site and distribute the wages this afternoon.” Boss Rick Harlow handed me the bank card, and at that moment, I truly felt like I’d been given a second chance. In my last life, after withdrawing the $20,000, I’d rushed home in fear of losing it. I locked the cash in my bedroom, intending to buy some envelopes to distribute it properly. But after being gone just an hour, I came home to find that my dad had lent it all to Dennis Coleman, the neighbor, to help buy a house. I was about to go ask Dennis for the money back. But my dad stopped me. “What are you doing? We’ve already lent it out. How could you ask for it back? What kind of neighbor would do that?” I was livid. “Dad, this money is from my company. You can’t just take company funds. If the boss calls the cops, I could go to jail!” Dad scoffed, “Your boss has plenty of money; what’s $20,000 to him?” Seeing he wasn’t going to listen, I stormed out, heading straight for Dennis’s door and banging on it. Before I could even ask for the money, Dad dragged me back home. Once inside, he slapped me hard across the face. “Dani Greene, I can’t believe my daughter would be so clueless about social decency. Tell your boss that I borrowed it, alright?” Furious, I snapped, “Borrowed it? How do you plan to pay it back? You have no job and no savings. Why would he lend it to you?” The second those words left my mouth, Dad lost it completely. He kicked me to the ground, fists raining down on me. “Who do you think you are, talking to your father like that?” At that moment, Mom and Lucas walked in. Seeing me getting beaten, their faces were cold, and when they found out why, Mom sneered, “You had it coming. You know your dad likes to lend money out, and you still left the cash lying around.” This ordeal ended with me confessing everything to Rick. He didn’t call the cops, just asked for the money back and wrote off the rest, but he couldn’t let me stay. After signing a note saying I’d repay him, he fired me. After that, I faced even worse because of Dad. Remembering all this felt like those punches were landing on me all over again. I asked Rick if I could pay out the wages in the morning instead of the afternoon, explaining I was nervous about carrying so much cash. He agreed. Once I had the money in hand, I rushed to Highland Ridge, only relaxing after I saw the workers pocketing their pay. When I returned home, Dad was fiddling with the lock to my bedroom. “Dad, what are you doing in my room?” Hearing my voice, he jumped, then smiled at me. “Just in time. Got any cash I can borrow?” “What for?” I asked. “Dennis is looking to buy a house, and I want to pitch in a little to help. It’s good for neighborly relations.” Dad sounded so convinced, like this was the most natural thing in the world. The whole neighborhood knew Dad was a people-pleaser. Whether they needed money or muscle, all they had to do was ask, and he’d do whatever he could to help. We never had savings because Dad would lend out any money as soon as we’d saved it up. “No, I don’t have anything. Try Lucas—he was just talking to Mom about buying a car, so he should have a little,” I told him, brushing him off. When I mentioned Lucas might have money, Dad’s eyes lit up. Of course, he didn’t actually go ask Lucas or Mom. Instead, he turned and went to his room to dig out his bank card. Dad’s always been quick to lend out cash, so back in high school, I suggested Mom open a secret savings account he didn’t know about. Otherwise, we’d never save a penny. Mom brushed me off, saying I was just a kid and didn’t understand how things worked, but she still opened that account. She’d managed to save around $40,000, meant to help Lucas with his wedding and to buy a car. In my last life, even knowing I could go to jail, they never used that money to help me out. I ended up working as a caretaker to pay off my debts, while

Lucas went ahead and bought himself a new car. After turning the whole house upside down, Dad finally found the passbook hidden in a rice container. Seeing the balance, he exploded. “That sneaky Laura, hiding all this money from me!” He stormed out with both his ID and Mom’s. I tried to stop him, “Dad, aren’t you going to ask what the money’s for?” “What for? Every cent in this house comes from me.” He left without another word, and when he returned, he had $40,000 in cash and called over Dennis from next door. Dennis seemed surprised, “This much? I only needed $20,000.” “Take it all,” Dad replied, puffing himself up like some kind of billionaire. “Use the rest for renovations.” Dennis offered to write him an IOU, but Dad waved him off. “If you give me an IOU, it’ll be like you don’t trust me.” Dennis left, delighted, and Dad stood there looking like he’d just done something amazing. I stepped in, trying one last time. “Dad, if you’re going to lend that much, you should get a note. He might not pay it back.” He shot me a glare. “If you ask for a note, you ruin the goodwill. This is how you build relationships, Dani. You’ve got a lot to learn.” Dad loved to throw around phrases like “building relationships.” Growing up poor, he’d always felt that no one in his family cared enough to help out, and that had left a mark on him. Now, if someone needed anything, he’d be there with money if he had it, or labor if he didn’t. And if he couldn’t do it alone, we all had to pitch in. And sure, he’d gained a few friendly neighbors this way—but they all knew they could take advantage without ever giving back. With this life, since I’d managed to pay the workers in time, I hadn’t been fired. But it wasn’t long before Dad landed me in more trouble. After work one day, I came home to find a stranger in our living room. Dad introduced him as Charlie Davis, a friend who owned a small factory. The IRS was coming to audit him, but his wife, who’d been the accountant, had made a mess of the books. He needed a professional to help him sort it out. One look at the paperwork, and I told him flat-out, “I can’t do this.” Dad’s face darkened, and with a forced calm, he said, “Look again. A small factory’s accounts have to be simpler than your company’s. Just help him out.” I handed the books back, “Mr. Davis, these accounts are all over the place. You should talk to the IRS and straighten things out.” The books were a disaster. From one glance, it was clear they’d been doctored. He didn’t want my help organizing; he wanted someone to smooth over the fraud.

Charlie turned pale and left, with Dad trailing after him. I went to my room to get ready for a shower. Just as I was halfway undressed, the door flew open, and Dad barged in. I barely had time to scream before he slapped me hard across the face. “Who the hell do you think you are?” “What’s the big deal about being an accountant? Just help him out like I said, and quit talking back,” Dad snarled, jabbing a finger at my face. “Do you know how hard it is to keep these relationships going? And just like that, you ruined it. I already told him you’d do it, so you better get those books sorted.” I lifted my chin, defiant. “I won’t. If someone else wants to take the risk, let them. He’s asking me to cook the books, and if it gets exposed, I’ll be the one paying for it.” “Oh, please. It’s not like they’ll catch you that easily. I think you’re just lazy.” Dad rolled up his sleeves and raised his hand to hit me again. Just then, the front door opened, and Mom and Lucas walked in. I ran to hide behind Mom, but to my shock, she stepped aside and shoved me back toward Dad. “If you’ve made him angry, you might as well take the hit and get it over with. Don’t drag me into it,” she said coldly. Since I was a kid, whenever Dad got violent, Mom and Lucas would stay far out of the way, afraid they’d get dragged into it. Their indifference hit me hard. After realizing Dad was furious because I refused to make fake entries, Lucas frowned at me, “Dani, you’re really being immature. It’s just a little doctoring of numbers, not your life on the line. If you’ve embarrassed Dad in front of his friend, you deserve what’s coming.” Mom chimed in, “Exactly. And don’t say you can’t do it. You’re an accountant—I know what you’re capable of.” Her words reminded me of something important. Dad had already retired, but Mom hadn’t, and she wanted to stay a few extra years for the benefits. Mom worked as an accountant at a government agency with great pay and benefits, and when Lucas graduated, she pulled every string she could to get him in, too. But when I graduated, she’d gone out of her way to block me from joining her office, even though I’d already been accepted. She didn’t want me around, afraid I’d somehow disrupt her career plan to delay retirement. The memory made my fists clench. I looked at Dad and forced myself to back down. “Dad, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have refused in front of your friend. I could probably do it, but I don’t have as much experience, and I’d hate to mess it up for him. But Mom—she has tons of experience. She’d be perfect for the job.” Dad turned to Mom, who shot me a death glare. “Walter, my work’s been hectic lately. This kind of thing…” she started to say. Dad cut her off. “Dani’s right. She’s inexperienced, so you’ll do it instead.” Mom opened her mouth to protest, but one look from Dad, and she swallowed her words. He not only forced her to take on the task but gave her a deadline of one night to finish it. That night, he got irritated by the light in the living room, so he made her work out there in the dark. I slept soundly, waking up refreshed the next morning while Mom was left bleary-eyed, sighing and muttering under her breath as I headed out the door. Just one glance at those books had told me this job was more than just messy; if she cooked the books, she’d be in deep trouble if they ever got caught. But at least that wasn’t my problem anymore. On the weekend, I went out looking for apartments, thinking it was time to get away from this house. After a long day, I came home and collapsed on my bed, weighing the options for which apartment would be best. As I glanced at my bookshelf, I noticed my complete collection of classic American novels was missing. It was a rare, collector’s edition, a gift left to me by my best friend who had passed away. I’d even sealed the books to preserve them. My mind went blank, and I ran into the living room. “Dad, where’s my collector’s edition?” He looked startled for a second, then recovered with a shrug. “I gave it to someone.” I narrowed my eyes. “Gave it to who?” “Who cares?” he snapped. Anger surged through me. “Who did you give it to?” “I gave it to Charlie Davis,” he said coolly. “You should be glad he liked it. Otherwise, you’d have really made an enemy of him.” “Well, let him be mad then! He’s not my father—why should I care? That set was my friend’s last gift to me, and you gave it away without a thought. Did you ever even consider how I’d feel?” With that, tears started falling. Years of pent-up frustration flooded out of me. Dad hesitated for a moment, then stood and raised his hand to hit me again. “Are you serious? Your dad’s reputation isn’t worth more than some old books? You can just buy them again. They’re not irreplaceable. You’ve been acting out way too much lately. I’m going to teach you a lesson today.” But I was done. I ran into the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and started slashing at the air in front of me. “Alright, fine! If you’re so determined to punish me, one of us isn’t walking out of here today!” Lucas grabbed me from behind, using all his strength to pry the knife from my hands. “Dani, have you lost your mind? How dare you wave a knife at Dad? You know this is just how he is! You should have hidden your things better if you didn’t want this to happen.” I looked at him, stunned. This was the same brother who’d always stood by while I was being hit, who only stepped in now to defend Dad because I’d picked up a knife. This family was rotten to the core. Lucas saw my look and frowned. “What are you looking at me like that for? This is on you. They’re just books. Stop making a big deal out of it. Dad does things like this for the good of the family, for our benefit.” I let out a bitter laugh. “You say that only because it wasn’t your stuff he gave away.” Lucas puffed up. “Even if it were mine, I wouldn’t complain.” Just then, a scream came from Mom’s bedroom. She ran out, holding her savings book in her hand, looking frantic. “My money! It’s gone!” Lucas turned to her, “What money?” Mom’s face twisted with despair. “Your car money—and your wedding fund.”

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Ethan and I had just celebrated our wedding a few days ago. We hadn’t even gotten the marriage certificate yet, when his mom showed up with his pregnant sister and nephew, announcing they would stay at my house until the baby was born. I told Ethan to send them away, but instead, he and his mom locked me in my own room. I had just gotten out of bed and opened my bedroom door when I saw Dolores Cole, my future mother-in-law, sitting comfortably in the living room, smiling at me with a look of amusement. “Abby, not to be critical, but Ethan’s been gone at work for hours, and you’re just now waking up?” she said, her eyebrows slightly raised. “As a woman, you should learn to take better care of your husband. I noticed he left the house with just a piece of toast this morning. That’s no way for a man to keep his health. You should at least be getting up early to make him some proper breakfast, like a bowl of oatmeal or something.” I was already in a bad mood from waking up, and now she was giving me a lecture before I could even ask why she had come over so early in the first place. She just kept going without pause. But since we had just had the wedding, I reminded myself to be polite and keep things cordial. So, I swallowed my irritation and asked, “Dolores, is there something urgent that brought you here this morning?” She waved her hand dismissively and said with a smile, “Oh, nothing too serious. It’s just that Tiffany is pregnant, and I thought it would be better for her to stay here with you. It’s easier to take care of her here, and the hospital is closer.” Tiffany Cole, my sister-in-law, is three years younger than me, but she got married young and already has two kids — a three-year-old and another one on the way. Before I could fully process this, Tiffany waddled out of the guest room, leading her three-year-old son, Brayden, by the hand. “Good morning, Abby! Your house is really nice. The guest room is so big, it could fit all three of us comfortably!” she said with a grin. Great. Ethan and I had only just had the wedding, and now his whole family was moving in, trying to take over my house. “Shouldn’t you be resting at your own home, Tiffany?” I asked, trying to stay calm. “Isn’t your place closer to the hospital?” At this, Tiffany’s face flushed with embarrassment, and she glanced nervously at her mother. Dolores quickly jumped in to explain, “Her in-laws are out of town, so there’s no one at home to help out. We didn’t want to bother them. And besides, you and Ethan are both so busy with work, we thought we could help out around the house. We’re family, after all. What’s a few extra plates at the table?” Something about the way they were rushing to explain didn’t sit right with me. But I figured this was Ethan’s family’s problem to deal with, so I decided to let him handle it. Without another word, I retreated to my room and called Ethan. No answer. I sent him a text message, and after what felt like forever, he finally responded with, “I’m in a meeting. We’ll talk about it when I get home.” Not wanting to deal with his family any longer, I threw my phone down and locked my door, intending to focus on my work. But as soon as I sat down and opened my laptop, the blaring sound of the TV echoed through the house. The volume was at least twice what it should have been, and on top of that, I could hear Dolores and Tiffany laughing and chatting while they snacked. Then there was Brayden, running and jumping around the living room, making an absolute racket. The noise was giving me a pounding headache. I was just about to go out and ask them to keep it down when the doorbell rang.

It was Carter Hughes, the neighbor from downstairs, coming to complain. He had moved in recently, and I had borrowed his cart a couple of times to help carry packages. He seemed a little surprised when Dolores answered the door, but politely asked her to keep the noise down. To my shock, Dolores snapped, “This is my son’s house! We’ll do whatever we want. Who do you think you are to tell us otherwise?” Carter didn’t back down. “It might be your son’s house, but this building is shared by everyone. If you’re disturbing your neighbors, that’s your problem.” “If you think I’m in the wrong, why don’t you call the cops? Let’s see if they care about your petty complaints,” she shot back. “We can do whatever we want in our own home. Who are you to say otherwise?” The more I listened, the angrier I got. Not only had they moved into my home without asking, but now they were acting like they owned the place. And on top of that, this house wasn’t even Ethan’s — it was a wedding gift from my parents! I couldn’t take it anymore. If they got into a fight with the neighbors, it would be me who had to live with the awkwardness. So I stormed out of my room. Dolores immediately plastered on a sweet smile and pulled me toward Carter, claiming he was being rude and unreasonable. Carter, shaking his head in frustration, explained, “I just wanted to let you know that I didn’t sleep well last night, and I finally managed to take a nap when all that noise started. I was hoping you could keep it down, especially with the kid running around.” I opened my mouth to apologize, but Dolores yanked me back. “Seriously? You young people stay up all night and then expect the world to tiptoe around you during the day. You’re the one causing problems and blaming others,” she said, her voice full of disdain. “You think we should all rearrange our lives around your nap schedule? It’s the middle of the day! And what, should we stop a growing child from playing just so you can get some sleep? What’s he supposed to do, not grow taller because of you?” Carter’s face was turning darker with every word she said, and even I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I stepped forward to try and defuse the situation, but once again, Dolores pushed me aside and continued, “Look at you — grown man, no respect for your elders or the young. Did your parents raise you like this?” She had crossed the line, bringing his family into it. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I moved in to intervene, but Dolores gave me another shove. I staggered back a few steps before dramatically collapsing to the floor with a loud “thud.” And suddenly, the whole world went quiet.

Dolores, wide-eyed and clearly shaken, started waving her hands frantically. “I didn’t touch her! She fell on her own!” Technically, she was right. I had fallen on my own, but I wasn’t about to let her off the hook that easily. Dolores stayed frozen at the door, too scared to come near me. Carter was the first to step in, crouching beside me and pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to revive me. When I didn’t respond, he rolled up his sleeves and made a show of preparing to give me CPR. I opened one eye and winked at him. He got the hint and pressed on my chest a couple of times, just for effect. I gasped dramatically and “woke up” as if I had narrowly avoided some terrible fate. Dolores’ face changed in an instant. She grabbed Carter’s hand and thanked him profusely. Carter took the opportunity to say, “She might be fine now, but it’s possible she hit her head. She should probably rest quietly for a few days, just to be safe.” He emphasized the words “rest quietly.” Dolores nodded quickly. She might have been running her mouth earlier, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew she had pushed me, and now she wanted to avoid making things worse. She even asked me not to tell Ethan what had happened. Since I wasn’t really hurt, I agreed. Our little performance worked, and they finally quieted down for the rest of the day. But they still didn’t show any signs of leaving. I had no choice but to wait for Ethan to come home and deal with the situation.

The moment I heard the noise outside, I knew Ethan was back. I pulled him into our bedroom and told him flat-out: “You need to find them somewhere else to stay. I don’t care where, but they can’t stay here.” But instead of agreeing, Ethan took my hand and said softly, “My mom is getting older, and Tiffany is pregnant, with a little kid. We can’t just throw them out onto the street, can we? Just give it a little time. If you don’t want to see them, we can stay in our room. I’ll find them a place soon, I promise.” The more he spoke, the more I realized something was off. Why wasn’t Tiffany’s husband taking care of her? And why hadn’t Ethan even mentioned they were coming over in the first place? I snapped, “I don’t care! This house was a gift from my mom. Why should I be the one hiding in my own room? You’re my husband because I love you, but if you’re going to take their side and not care about how I feel, then maybe we don’t need to get that marriage certificate after all. You can move out with them.” Seeing me so upset, Ethan pulled me into a hug and started apologizing, his voice gentle. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll fix this. We’ve been together for eight years — we can’t let something small like this come between us, right?” “And besides, we’ve already had the wedding. We just need the certificate. If we call things off now, how will we explain it to our friends and family?” I pushed him away. “I don’t owe anyone an explanation about my marriage. You decide. If your mom and sister are still here tomorrow, you can pack your bags and leave with them.” Before we got married, I had made it very clear to him that each of us would be responsible for our own parents. I never believed in the idea that marrying into a family meant becoming part of that family. I was looking for a partner to walk through life with, not to take on the burden of an entire household. If this situation could be solved, fine. But if not, I wasn’t about to sacrifice my boundaries for his family. Ethan, realizing how serious I was, finally agreed. He stroked my hair and said, “Okay, okay, don’t be mad. I’ll talk to them and make sure they’re gone by tomorrow, okay?” I saw the sincerity in his eyes and nodded. “Make sure they understand they can stay in a hotel for a few days. I’ll even help pay for it if we need to.” Ethan smiled, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “I know you’re doing this for us,” he said softly. “Good. I’m glad you understand,” I replied, lightly punching his chest. Ethan chuckled and left the room. Feeling curious, I quietly followed him and pressed my ear to the door to eavesdrop. But strangely enough, after several minutes, there was no sound at all. Even with the good soundproofing, I should’ve heard something. So I decided to crack the door open just a bit to get a better listen. But when I tried to turn the handle, it wouldn’t budge. Ethan had locked me in.

Ethan had locked me in the bedroom. The moment I realized what had happened, I didn’t even bother to think about why he would do such a thing. Instead, I pounded on the door with both fists. “Ethan! What the hell are you doing locking me in here?” “I didn’t ask you to kick your mom out onto the street! If you can’t afford to put them in a hotel, I’ll pay for it! What are you trying to pull here?” It sounded like Ethan was leaning against the door, because as soon as I finished speaking, I heard his voice, clear as day. “Abby, I’m sorry. I didn’t have any other choice.” “My dad got into trouble with some gambling debts. He had to mortgage the house, and now the debt collectors are after us. Tiffany’s in-laws kicked her out to avoid getting mixed up in it, too.” “I can’t just let my mom and my sister hide from debt collectors while I stay here living comfortably with you.” For a moment, I was speechless, stunned by the revelation. Suddenly, all their strange behavior made sense. But locking me in my room wasn’t going to solve the problem. So, I forced myself to stay calm and reason with him. “Ethan, your dad’s debt is his responsibility. If the debt collectors come to the door, we can call the police.” “If the amount isn’t too big, I can even help out. We can figure it out together. But locking me in this room isn’t going to fix anything.” There was silence from the other side of the door, but I could hear him breathing. “Open the door, Ethan. Let’s sit down and talk about how to handle this.” “You know I’m not the kind of person who would leave you to deal with this alone, right?” Normally, Ethan was smart enough to see reason by now. But what I forgot was that he had a mother who was anything but reasonable.

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On the day my husband ascended the throne, he granted me the title of Alexandra, the Imperial Consort. He declared that I was the one who held his heart. Yet within the opulent walls of this palace, I was not alone. Zarah Bourbon, Wilma Spencer, and countless other beauties vied for his affection, each one a delicate flower in the garden of his desires. But his heart—his heart was like a durian, spiked and impenetrable, with a different woman perched precariously on every thorn. When James Windsor announced the decree to crown the Chancellor’s daughter as Queen, I was in the palace playing cards with the other concubines. The maids brought the news, and the other three women froze, their eyes fixed on me in disbelief. But I just kept playing, eating snaps like nothing had changed. “What are you all gawking at? It’s the dealer’s turn!” I said with a cheerful smile. Wilma Spencer, clearly distracted, drew a card and played it clumsily. But she couldn’t hold back and finally asked, “Alexandra, are you… alright?” “It’s always been like this. If it weren’t the Chancellor’s daughter, it would have been someone else.” I hesitated for a moment before replying. Under their admiring gazes, I smiled even more brightly, as if I were genuinely happy for James, completely unfazed. Soon, the grand wedding of the Emperor and the new Queen took place. James gave her great honor. The city was adorned, and all the provinces sent congratulatory messages. I gazed at the magnificent Queen Hall, and James’s words from our wedding echoed in my ears: “Alexandra, I will never betray you in this lifetime. Only with you by my side can I truly be happy.” But in the end, he demoted me from queen to consort, allowing another to take the primary position. The new Queen was only sixteen years old. When the concubines paid their respects to her, she ordered everyone to rise, except for me. The young girl, full of youthful vigor, her phoenix hairpin dazzlingly bright, looked at me with disdain: “So, you’re Alexandra Hemming? The King’s first wife?” She emphasized the word “first” heavily, intending to humiliate me. My expression remained unchanged as I lowered my head. “Your Majesty, I dare not presume. It’s just an old, irrelevant matter, not worth your concern.” “It’s good that you know your place. You were merely fortunate to meet the King in his troubled times, and yet you managed to become an Imperial Consort.” She seemed pleased by my submission and continued to speak more freely, “Born into a lowly merchant family, no wonder the King wouldn’t let you raise the Crown Prince. Imagine if he were tainted by your vulgarity!” Her words done, and the room fell silent. My nails dug into my palm, but before I could speak, James entered, fresh from court. He was strikingly handsome, and the young ladies blushed at the sight of him. The new Queen, Wilma Spencer, ran to him, clinging to his arm with a coquettish tone: “Your Majesty, Alexandra was disrespectful to me.” I didn’t look at James, keeping my gaze lowered as I awaited my punishment. The new Queen’s family was powerful and influential. He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, protect me. I felt his gaze linger on me for a long time before I heard him say, “Alexandra was indeed wrong to disrespect the Queen. She will be confined to Windsor Palace for half a month to reflect on her actions.” I accepted the decree with thanks, my forehead hitting the floor so hard it turned red. Rising under the sympathetic gazes of the other concubines, I walked back to Windsor Palace, one step at a time. The palace gates were locked. I dismissed the servants and sat alone on the swing in the courtyard. Gently swinging my feet, I seemed to return to the past. The days when we were newlyweds, full of love and affection. There was a time when James and I shared moments of pure joy, where laughter echoed through the halls and the world seemed ours alone. But time, relentless and unforgiving, slipped through my fingers like grains of sand, and no matter how tightly I tried to hold on, I couldn’t keep him.

Half a month passed in the blink of an eye, and the gates of Windsor Palace finally reopened. James walked in, seeing me reading. He sat down beside me. “Alex…” I ignored him, he forcibly pulled me into his arms, taking the book from my hands. “Look at me.” “Alex, must we be like this? I’ve just ascended the throne, and my position is unstable. This is the time I need the support of the ministers the most. Can’t you endure a little longer for my sake?” James’s voice was filled with frustration, and finally, even a hint of grievance. I looked up at him, my gaze cold. “James, I’ve been enduring ever since you were brought back from Sunningdale and titled King of Lennon.” “I endured when you took those noblewomen as concubines. I endured when you took my newborn child and gave him to Zarah Bourbon to raise. I endured when you married your new wife with her illustrious background and demoted me to consort. What more do you want me to endure?” My questions forced him to release me. The pain in my heart came in waves, and now, all I felt for him was deep disappointment. For ten years, I was bound to him in marriage. In the early days, when our love was a blazing fire, we welcomed our daughter, Anne Windsor, into the world. But as the years passed and he ascended to the throne, the weight of his crown settled between us. In the midst of his newfound power and the establishment of his royal household, our son, Johnny Windsor, was born—a symbol of a love that had once been unbreakable, now strained under the demands of a kingdom. Johnny was only three days old when Zarah suffered a miscarriage shortly after entering the King’s household. Her constant despair displeased her family, so without consulting me, James handed Johnny over to Zarah to raise. My child, whom I had labored over in pain for a day and night, was taken from me while I lay weak and unconscious. Now, he only recognizes Zarah as his mother. When he learned to speak, walk, and call for his mother, I was like a stranger, a mere observer of someone else’s happiness. … I couldn’t bear to think of those painful memories any longer. I pulled away from his embrace, moving far from him. “James, let’s just set each other free. Perhaps then we could both find some happiness.” His eyes reddened as he looked at me. The tension was broken by a timid, childish voice, “Mother, I’m hungry…” It was Anne, who had returned from playing outside. At six years old, she hid behind the curtains, peeking out with wide eyes at James and me, watching us argue. I forced a smile, gently stroking her head. “The egg custard has been simmering in the small kitchen, just waiting for my little foodie. Why don’t you go wash your hands with Nanny first?” She nodded enthusiastically, then hesitated, glancing between James’s stern face and mine. Finally, she tugged at my clothes, “Mother, Father hasn’t visited in a long time. Can you stop arguing, please?” My heart sank, and James’s expression also stiffened. When Anne was born, he wasn’t the King, nor was he the Duke of Lennon. I wasn’t just another consort in his vast harem; I was his only wife. That’s why Anne always called him Father. James softened his expression and hugged Anne. “Be good, Anne. When you grow up, don’t be like your mother—ignorant of what’s proper and ungrateful!” After saying this, he gave me a glance before striding away. “Mother, what did Father mean?” Anne asked, frightened by his harsh tone and shrinking into my arms. “Nothing at all. Tell me, what did you and Nanny do in the Imperial Garden today? Tell me all about it.” I held her close, gently patting her back. Hearing this, she was easily distracted. “Mother, I met a new friend today. He’s amazing; he can fly…”

It seems that what I feared most has come true. When Wilma Spencer heard that James had visited me, she stormed into Windsor Palace with a group of maids and guards. “Alexandra Hemming, you miserable wretch!” she spat, her voice laced with venom. “You may be old and withered, but you still cling to power through your daughter, desperate for favor even now!” Wilma, towering above, glared down at me before barking at the guards, “Take Princess Anne to my residence!” Anne was seized by several hands, and after a moment of shock, she burst into tears, screaming for her “Mother.” I tried to stop them, but the maids bound my hands and feet, pressing me to the ground. “Mother? I am your rightful mother! She’s just a consort with no backing, you foolish girl!” Wilma sneered before sweeping out of the room, her yellow skirt trailing behind her. I hastily wiped away my tears and rushed to the State Hall. “What’s going on?” James, who was reviewing documents, frowned as he saw me disheveled and panicked. Desperate, I clung to his sleeve as if it were my lifeline. “James, please, let Wilma return Anne to me.” “Alex, I always wondered when you’d call me by my name again, but I never thought it would be for this.” Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably, and I couldn’t hear what he was saying. “Anne is all I have left, James. Please, bring her back to me…” “Wilma just likes children. She’s only having Anne stay at Queen’s Hall for a while,” he said, cupping my face with both hands. “Besides, Alex, I should be your only concern, shouldn’t I?” “So, you knew she would take Anne?” He avoided my gaze, instead trying to pull me closer for a kiss. “Stop being stubborn, Alex. Stay here with me, and we can have more children together. Then you won’t have to withhold even a glance from me.” I felt a wave of nausea and raised my hand to slap him hard across the face. “James, you disgust me!” He was stunned by the slap, his gaze turning icy as his face hardened. After a long silence, he finally spoke. “Guards!” she commanded, her voice cold and imperious. “Lock Lady Alexandra in Windsor Palace. She is to be given only one meal a day, and no one is to attend to her needs. She will remain there in isolation until she confesses her sins and acknowledges her wrongdoing.”

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My mom married a wealthy man, and as her tagalong, I got dragged into the world of luxury. Life in the mansion was perfect in every way—except for my cold, handsome stepbrother, who clearly couldn’t stand me. The way he looked at me was becoming more and more unsettling. Then one night, he came home drunk, and I ended up screaming myself hoarse, forced to call him “husband” the entire night. “Awake?” Peter Jude didn’t even bother knocking as he barged in, bold as ever. He casually sat on the edge of the bed, holding a tube of ointment in his hand. I instinctively backed away, but the wall was right behind me. His eyes flashed with a hint of displeasure, and his imposing figure loomed even closer. I awkwardly muttered, “Brother…” In my mind, I was desperately trying to come up with excuses for him. Maybe he had forgotten what happened last night after he sobered up. That must be why he was acting so calm. He frowned slightly. “No need to sound so distant.” Distant? Calling him “brother” still felt too formal? I had a sinking feeling, and the events that followed only confirmed my worst fears. Without any warning, he yanked the covers off me. I barely had time to put anything on! “Ah!” I gasped, but he just looked at me with feigned surprise. He squeezed some ointment from the tube and, without hesitation, his large hand began searching for a spot to apply it. “Mm…” My body melted like water as his touch invaded me. My eyes misted over, and I tried to muster the strength to resist. But then he coldly warned me. “This spot is delicate. I don’t want it getting hurt again. Unless you think you’ve recovered, we can always continue.” Continue? Continue what?! Peter, who was usually so cold and restrained, had become insatiable! The invader continued to ravage my secret base, determined to poison every last inch. To ensure thorough coverage, he ventured deeper and repeated the process again and again. I was panting heavily, unable to stifle the moans that escaped my lips. Through the corner of my eye, I saw the faint amusement in his gaze. Embarrassed, I grabbed a pillow and covered my face, wishing I could just disappear. At that moment, the phone on the bedside table suddenly rang. With sharp reflexes, Peter picked it up before I could. When he saw it was my mom calling, he answered without hesitation. I glared at him, furious. But the invader at my secret base hadn’t left. Even though the poison had been spread evenly, he lingered at the gates, idly toying with the door handle. “Alice, your stepdad and I are out shopping in Paris. There are so many fun things here. Is there anything you’d like?” I didn’t really want anything. All I wanted was for Mom to get what she wanted—being happy with her new husband. The invader suddenly twisted the handle harder, and I couldn’t help but let out a stifled moan. “Mm… anything’s fine.” Mom sighed in frustration. “Don’t say ‘anything’s fine’ every time.” “Uh… mm… ah!” The invader finally withdrew, only to reenter, this time clad in a different kind of armor. His soft hair brushed against my thighs, and the smooth armor scraped against every surface of the base, leaving me utterly defenseless. With Mom’s confused “What’s going on?” echoing through the phone, I hastily hung up. I didn’t even have the strength to hold the phone anymore; it slipped from my grasp onto the pillow. After finishing, Peter casually stood up, turning on the tap as if nothing had happened. He looked at me with dark, gleaming eyes, licking his lips. Just like when he overheard me talking to my ex-boyfriend yesterday. “Why don’t you tell your mom about us?” he asked. Tell her? How could I? What was I supposed to say? That I was having a forbidden romance with my wealthy stepbrother? My mind was still foggy, and I could only mumble, “I won’t tell.” “And what does that make me?” I hesitated, searching for an answer. “…My brother?” He nodded, unbuttoning his shirt one by one. “Well then, congratulations. You’ve got a brother who can screw you.” I barely had time to process what he said before everything went black. After turning on the faucet, Peter Jude finally stood up, looking at me with a glint in his eyes. He licked his lips, his gaze heavy, just like when he overheard me on the phone with my ex-boyfriend, Chris, the other day. “Why didn’t you tell your mom about us?” How could I say anything? What would I even tell her? That I was caught in some forbidden romance with my stepbrother in this rich family? My mind was still hazy, and I mumbled, “I won’t say anything.” “Then what does that make me?” he asked. I hesitated, trying to find the right words. “…My brother?” He gave a slight nod and stood up, calmly unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time. “Well then, congratulations—you’ve got yourself a brother who’s willing to go all the way with you.” I slowly formed a question in my mind, but I didn’t have the chance to finish it.

Peter Jude wasn’t one for empty promises. He did exactly what he said he would. Sweat dripped from his temples onto my collarbone, searing my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut, too embarrassed to look at the reflection in the mirror. He purposefully blew into my ear, making my eyelashes flutter. The sight of our bodies moving together in the mirror made my face flush a deep crimson. To him, my feeble attempts to struggle were just part of the fun. He pressed me against the cold mirror, whispering things that made my face burn with shame, forcing me to call him “husband” over and over. It didn’t matter how much I begged; there was no escape. By the time it ended, I was so exhausted I couldn’t even lift a finger. The ointment he applied had been washed away entirely. And that was just the beginning. He made sure I couldn’t leave the mansion; no matter what time it was, I found myself trapped in this endless cycle of desire. It was impossible to tell that Peter was supposed to be running a company, considering how often I was pulled from the bed, only to end up back in it moments later. And it wasn’t always the bed. He said he was helping me get familiar with the mansion, taking me from the bathroom, to the study, to the home theater, and even… the lawn. Each place bore witness to our time together, and I quickly became more than familiar with my new home. After another break, I received a message from Mom saying she and Mr. Harris would be home soon. I almost cried with joy. It was true—I’d had feelings for Peter since we first met, but I thought it would be something pure. What he did, though, was far from it. And it wasn’t just once—it was a full week of things I couldn’t even talk about. I felt like even if I made it to Mexico now, no one would want these broken kidneys of mine. “You seem distracted,” Peter murmured, his lips crashing against mine before I could reply. When I finally managed to catch my breath, I blurted out, “Mom and Mr. Harris are coming back.” He stopped and casually said, “So what?” “This isn’t right,” I said, trying to calm my breathing and the blush spreading across my face. “We can’t let them find out. Let’s just end this, and I’ll pretend nothing happened.” “Why?” Peter’s expression darkened, and his eyes flashed with anger as he harshly smeared more ointment onto me. “You clearly enjoyed it.” I winced, knowing deep down he wasn’t wrong. My phone had been in my hand the whole time. If I had wanted to stop or tell someone, that week of chaos never would have happened. “I don’t want anyone to know what happened after I entered this wealthy life. Plus, Mom’s about to marry Mr. Harris. No one can know about us.” Those were both true reasons, especially the latter. Mom raised me alone, and I knew she genuinely loved Mr. Harris—it wasn’t just about the money. Peter would never marry me, and even if he tried, it would ruin Mom’s chance at happiness with Mr. Harris. And, truthfully, I had feelings for Peter, my so-called stepbrother. That’s why I let everything happen. Peter licked his fingers. Just as I thought he was about to punish me, he smirked and said, “Fine, I wouldn’t want to ruin Mom’s marriage plans.” He stormed out, looking uncharacteristically childish for someone usually so cold and composed. I curled up, hugging my knees, feeling the room grow emptier with each passing second. If only Peter wasn’t Peter. If only I wasn’t Alice. Wouldn’t that be better?

After that, Peter Jude went back to his normal self—or at least, it appeared that way. His face was cold as usual, and he was busy with work, darting from one thing to the next. He even stopped coming home to the mansion for a while. That was until my mom and stepdad returned. They came back with a haul of expensive gifts, looking travel-worn and tired. Mom, in particular, seemed exhausted. Mr. Harris, on the other hand, was in a great mood, happily chatting and even calling Peter back to join us. When Peter arrived, he sat down next to me on the couch, closer than necessary. I instinctively tried to move away, but then I heard Mom say, “I’m glad to see you two getting along so well. That really puts me at ease.” I froze in place, forced to sit there beside Peter while Mr. Harris talked enthusiastically about their trip. His stories dragged on, and as he went on, something in me started to feel wrong. It was like an ant crawling under my skin, making its way deeper, causing my entire body to tense up. I glanced over at Peter and saw my flushed reflection in his eyes. He leaned in, whispering so only I could hear, “You don’t want Nancy to know just how close we’ve gotten, do you?” He was right. We had gotten too close. I squirmed uncomfortably, trying to keep my composure while Mr. Harris continued talking endlessly. Another metaphorical ant joined the first, tormenting me further as they burrowed deeper. My mind raced as I wished I hadn’t worn a skirt today. By the time Mr. Harris had finally stopped, I wasn’t sure how I’d managed to endure it all, biting down hard on my lower lip to keep myself from losing it. When I came back to my senses, the living room had emptied, leaving only Peter and me. Peter looked far too pleased with himself. I quickly stood up, my legs weak and unsteady. As I did, I noticed the mark we had left on the couch, and I wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ground. “Peter Jude!” I snapped. “Where are your manners?” he said coolly, adjusting his tie with the calm precision of a predator who had just cornered its prey. “Why aren’t you calling me ‘brother’ anymore?” I glared at him. “We agreed we’d leave each other alone after this.” His expression grew darker. “I don’t think my dear sister understands one thing. I will keep violating you, and what can you do about it?” He emphasized the word violate with a chilling intensity, stepping closer to me with the intimacy of a lover. “For so many years, countless women have tried to climb their way into this family. Do you know why my father is still single? What chance does your mom really have?” I continued backing away, like a cornered animal with no escape. “What do you want from me?” I asked, my voice trembling. He stopped, finally halting his approach. “Be my plaything, and I’ll convince my father to accept your mom.” At that moment, I fully understood the weight of power and control that came from someone who’d held the upper hand for so long. He wasn’t looking at me with love—just pure, unfiltered desire and the certainty that he would have whatever he wanted. I had been wrong. I thought, at the very least, he had some feelings for me. But now, I realized it was just lust, nothing more. Peter didn’t wait for my response. Instead, he turned his gaze past me and smiled, his expression suddenly softening. “Hello, Nancy.” Startled, I spun around. My mom was walking down the stairs, her face lighting up as she saw Peter. She seemed genuinely happy that he had greeted her and started chatting with him warmly. I knew then that there was no need for any more words. That night, I anticipated something would happen, but I was still caught off guard when my door was unlocked and opened. —Mom’s room was right next to mine. “Are you crazy?” I asked coldly. Peter’s face remained calm, his voice steady. “No choice. If the mountain won’t come to me, I’ll go to the mountain.” He smirked at me, standing there in my nightgown, and tossed something onto the bed.

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I have severe bipolar disorder and need to take medication constantly to keep it under control. On the bus ride home, I encountered a creepy old man who kept rubbing his crotch against my backside. I hadn’t taken my medication for two days and was afraid I might lose control if provoked, so I used my backpack as a barrier between us. Seeing he couldn’t take advantage anymore, he started shouting loudly that I was being inconsiderate by using my backpack to take up his seat space. He even grabbed my backpack and threw it far away. But that backpack contained my medication – my sedatives! He had no idea he’d just thrown away his own lifeline. 0I have severe bipolar disorder – a mental illness that causes extreme mood swings between depression and mania. I’ve been taking medication to control it, but I can’t stop the meds. I had just picked up my prescription from the hospital today. That doctor is so annoying – every time he talks, I want to sew his mouth shut so he can never speak again. I hadn’t taken my medication for two days. Of course, I didn’t take it today either. I hate the hospital and didn’t want to stay there a minute longer than necessary. The noise on the bus was grating on my nerves. The irritation inside me felt like a wild beast, ready to explode at any moment. Just then, a balding man got on and sat next to me, constantly pressing against me. This guy was truly ugly and fat. His big round face was rougher than a shoe sole. I wanted to take a knife and slice off the fat from his face to feed to dogs! How could someone be so shameless? He was already taking up two seats with his size, yet he kept squeezing closer to me. I really wanted to slap him with a shoe. Damn it, at his age, how could he be so shameless? He reeked of sweat. The people nearby had already moved far away when he first got on. When he squeezed over again, I finally couldn’t hold back: “Can you move over? You’re crushing me!” You old bastard, if the hospital wasn’t currently evaluating my mental state, I would’ve thrown you out the window already. I shoved my backpack roughly between us and rolled my eyes. What a piece of trash, truly more shameless with age! “Young lady, this is a public space, not your home. You can’t use your backpack to take up space. I’ll sit however I want, it’s none of your business,” he said, giving me a challenging side-eye. He shook his smelly bare feet. The people around were already fed up with him. Seeing the conflict arise, they immediately called over the bus attendant. The attendant held his breath against the sour stench and came over to remind him to be considerate of others. “I paid for my ticket. I didn’t pay for you to boss me around,” the old man said arrogantly. “Young people these days have no respect for their elders,” he added. “Sir, this is a public space. Your behavior is disturbing other passengers,” the attendant said helplessly. “I must also warn you, it’s best not to provoke this young lady,” the attendant cautioned him. “I’ll do what I want! What are you going to do about it?” he retorted, going back to shaking his leg and picking his nose. Suddenly he flicked a big booger from his nose towards the attendant. Although it didn’t hit the attendant, it was disgusting enough. The attendant wrinkled his brow tightly and covered his mouth, looking like he might throw up at any moment. “What are you looking at? I’ll really throw it on you next time!” the old man said brazenly. The attendant was so upset he was nearly in tears. He covered his mouth and fled. 0

Several nearby passengers couldn’t stand it anymore and started criticizing him: “This is a public space, you have no manners at all.” “At your age, bullying two young girls, have you no shame?” “We all paid for tickets. I’ve never seen someone like this before. Look, no one dares sit next to you.” “Exactly, acting like this is your own home.” The old man sneered, “Mind your own business!” “You only know how to bully an old man like me. This girl is taking up my seat with her bag, why don’t you say something about that?” he said. “It’s just a stupid bag. I’ll get rid of it for you,” he said as he grabbed my backpack and threw it far away. “What a piece of junk, trying to take up my seat.” The medication in my bag spilled out everywhere as it flew through the air. Damn it, my meds! My sedatives! This guy is really asking for it. “Oh, so many pills! Young lady, taking all this medication at your age – you didn’t just have an abortion, did you?” the old man said with a look of disdain. My anger had reached its boiling point, like a balloon about to burst. An internal struggle raged in my mind. One voice said, “Go for it! Kick him! He’s ugly and shameless.” I felt like I was about to lose control. But another voice warned, “No, no, don’t cause trouble. You won’t pass the hospital evaluation and will end up in the psych ward. Don’t be impulsive, impulsiveness is the devil.” Remembering my past experiences in the psychiatric hospital sent a chill down my spine. I shoved the old man aside and picked up my sedatives from the ground, about to open the bottle and take some. But the old man snatched the pill bottle from my hand. “Let me teach you a lesson on behalf of your parents. Young lady, you need to take better care of yourself and not do shameful things.” He was about to throw my pill bottle out the window. “You’d better look carefully at what kind of medication it is and what it’s for before you throw it. You might regret it,” I warned. “Don’t make me laugh. I’ve seen plenty of girls like you. What else could these pills be but abortion pills? I’m going to throw them out and there’s nothing you can do about it!” he said. He opened the bottle right in front of me and dumped the pills out the window. “Go ahead and try to get them back now, little girl. You’re no match for me,” he said smugly, shaking the empty bottle. My mind exploded. To hell with “impulsiveness is the devil.” You can’t blame me for this. I grabbed a frying pan from under a lady’s feet nearby and started smacking his face with it repeatedly. I’d been wanting to do this for a while. I couldn’t stand looking at his face any longer. Before he could react, I kept hitting him all over with the frying pan. For a moment, the only sounds on the bus were the clanging of the pan and the old man’s howls of pain. The other passengers came to their senses after a couple shouts but then just continued watching the show. Not a single person tried to stop me. The old man had been too despicable earlier. Even the bus attendant pretended he couldn’t squeeze through the crowd, watching anxiously from the back. The old man cried out in pain, bawling like a child despite his age. Snot and tears were everywhere – disgusting. After venting my anger, I finally felt less pent up. I put down the frying pan and started picking up the remaining pills on the floor to put back in my bag. When I picked up the empty bottle, the old man grabbed the frying pan from the ground and was about to hit me with it. I dodged it swiftly, staring at him coldly like I was looking at a dead man. He still dares to provoke me? He must have a death wish. He said in a low voice, “Think you’re tough, little girl? Come on then!” Before he could finish gloating, with a loud thud, his whole body crashed heavily to the ground like a rag doll. The frying pan in his hand fell and hit him square on the nose. A piercing shriek echoed through the bus. I shoved the empty pill bottle in his face. “Do you know what this is? It’s your lifeline.” I took out another bottle of pills from my bag and threw it at him. “Go ahead, throw it out again.” The old man clutched the pills, not daring to move an inch. “What’s wrong? Want me to open it for you?” I grabbed another bottle, opened it, and forcefully threw it at him, shouting, “Throw it! Throw it all out! Don’t leave a single pill! I’m sick of taking this damn medication anyway!” He shook his head frantically. “Not going to throw them? Then you can just swallow them all yourself.” He covered his mouth and shook his head vigorously. I picked up the pills that had fallen on the floor one by one. As I picked them up, I said, “This one is taken on an empty stomach in the morning. So bitter.” I picked up another: “This one is taken before bed at noon. Doesn’t taste good either.” I continued picking them up: “This is taken before dinner. Tsk, takes away my appetite for the meal.” I kept picking up pills as I spoke, until I had a small handful. I stood up and walked over to the old man, grabbed his chin, and shoved all the pills in my hand into his mouth. The old man’s face turned bright red, his eyes bulging. He kept pounding on his chest. “Tasty? Are they tasty?” I asked. The old man nodded frantically, no longer caring about the bitterness in his mouth. “Since you like them so much, have some more.” I was about to pick up more pills from the ground. “No more, no more. I’ll never do it again,” he pleaded, looking at me in terror. The fat on his face was contorted – he was clearly scared out of his wits. He got lucky. Although I hadn’t taken my meds in two days, I had just had a counseling session at the hospital. The doctor’s words were still echoing in my mind. I have to admit, even though the doctor was a bit long-winded, his words were effective. If this had happened on a normal day when I hadn’t taken my meds for two days, the old man might not have even been able to beg for mercy. 0

The bus attendant was afraid the situation would escalate further, so he and a few passengers restrained me. Seeing that I was held back, the old man pointed at me and shouted, “Just you wait! I’m going to sue you for assault. I’ll make sure you go to jail!” “Want to bet I’ll cripple your hand?” I walked up to him step by step and grabbed the finger he was pointing at me with. The old man howled in pain, glaring at the people around him. “Why aren’t you stopping her? She’s completely insane!” I kicked him hard in the knee. The old man cried out and immediately fell to his knees. “I hate it when people call me crazy,” I said. This time the old man didn’t dare make any more moves. I saw him take out his phone and make a call, muttering something I couldn’t hear. “Oh, calling for backup? What, did you lose the fight so now you’re calling mommy?” I taunted. I stepped forward and snatched his phone, throwing it to the ground. “You like throwing things, don’t you? Let me help you!” I said. I went up and slapped him hard across the face twice. I shoved the empty pill bottle in his face again. “Look carefully. What kind of medication is this? This is your lifeline, not mine.” I slapped him again. The old man was so angry he was trembling all over, no longer caring about being scared. “You…you just wait. You’ll see how my son deals with you when we get to the stop. I’ll make you kneel and call me grandpa!” Oh, so we’re almost at the stop and he’s got backup coming. Feeling tough now, are we? “Alright, alright. You want to fight? Bring it on! I haven’t thrown down in a long time. I’ll use you to warm up first!” Without waiting for the old man’s reaction, I went up and kicked him. You dare glare at me? That deserves a hit. Gritting your teeth like you want to eat me? That deserves a hit. Not keeping your hands to yourself? That deserves a hit. Being this ugly and daring to go out in public? That deserves a hit. And so I kept hitting him the whole way, smacking him whenever I felt like it. Suddenly the old man stood up and shouted loudly, “Over here! I’m over here!” Looks like we’ve reached the stop. 0Among the crowd, I immediately spotted the person the old man was calling for. How should I put it – his obesity was exactly like the old man’s. Like father, like son. He shoved his way roughly through the passengers in the aisle, holding a cigarette between his fingers. He pointed at me and said, “So you’re the one who beat up my dad

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Returning from studying abroad, I found an unexpected future sister-in-law at home. She proclaimed herself the future mistress of our family, threatening to teach me, her never-before-met sister-in-law a lesson. But no one told her that my brother was adopted. I am the sole heir to the Sanders family, and even my brother has to watch his step around me. When my brother picked me up from the airport and brought me home, my parents were eagerly waiting for me. Due to the pandemic, I hadn’t been home for a long time, and everyone was incredibly excited. As I was catching up with my family and expressing how much I had missed them, my brother pulled over a stranger and introduced her to me. With a hint of shyness, he said, “This is my girlfriend, Chloe, your future sister-in-law.” Then, turning to her with a slight nod, he added, “And this is my sister I’ve often told you about, Mollie Sanders. You can call her Mollie.” “Hello,” she greeted me with a polite smile, extending both hands. I was still caught up in the excitement of being home. After exchanging pleasantries with her, I turned back to continue chatting animatedly with my parents. That evening, as I cuddled up with my mom, she filled me in on the details. According to her, this Chloe was an intern my brother had met at the branch company he managed. She seemed pure and gentle, and my brother was head over heels for her. They hadn’t been together long before he brought her home, declaring his intention to marry her. I was as excited as if I’d just heard the juiciest gossip. “And then? Is my brother really going to get married?” “Your father and I would prefer someone from a similar background, of course. But if he insists, we can’t say much. If he truly loves her, we’ll let him be,” my mom replied, always the open-minded one. I wasn’t worried about my brother. But little did I know, when I met Chloe the next day, I realized I had severely underestimated her. Due to jet lag, I woke up in the afternoon. I went downstairs to find something to eat and sat at the dining table for breakfast when I heard a voice from behind, “Sister, you’re just waking up? Your brother has already been at the office for half a day.” What’s wrong with you? A question mark floated above my head. I turned around to see it was Chloe speaking. “Oh, were you talking to me?” I asked, somewhat incredulously. She rolled her eyes, her pupils nearly disappearing into her skull, and slowly walked down the stairs with her arms crossed. Wow, she already had the air of the mistress of the house. She had seemed normal in front of my parents yesterday, but behind their backs, she couldn’t wait to start giving me attitude. “Who else would I be talking to? Is there a third person in this room right now?” Her tone was filled with undisguised hostility. Clearly, I hadn’t misunderstood her. After my initial shock, I found it amusing. “I thought you were talking to someone else. After all, we’re not that close, so don’t call me sister. My family doesn’t have any older sisters.” I shot back at her and turned back to continue eating. What kind of person is this? My brother must have been blinded by love to fall for her. She continued walking towards me, about to speak with an aggressive attitude when we heard the front door open. Chloe immediately switched to a different persona, her expression turning fragile and her tone a complete reversal from her previous snarky attitude. “Don’t be angry. If you don’t want me to call you that, I won’t in the future.” Wow, I can’t believe there are still such textbook examples of green tea bitches in the 21st century. Doesn’t she find herself too fake? At that moment, my mom and brother walked in together. Seeing Chloe’s pitiful look, they were confused and quickly came over to ask, “What’s wrong? What happened?” With my brother back, Chloe became even more dramatic. She even managed to squeeze out two tears that welled up in her eyes, looking truly pitiful. “It’s nothing. Mollie, I mean, she doesn’t want me to call her sister. I won’t call her that anymore. I thought it would show closeness, but I didn’t expect to upset her. I didn’t mean to, I just won’t call her that anymore.” I was stunned by her words. In my twenty-plus years, I’d never seen such a real drama queen. I guess I’ve finally seen one. My mom tried to mediate, “Oh, it’s just a small thing, no need to get upset.” My brother also chimed in, “Mollie might just be having some morning grumpiness. She probably hasn’t adjusted to the time difference yet. Don’t take it to heart.” He gave me a look and then comforted the seemingly pitiful Chloe back to their room. I didn’t need to continue eating; I was already full from anger. My mom looked at me and asked what happened. I said it was nothing. I want to see what other tricks this person can pull.

Having just returned to the country, I was busy meeting up with old friends every day. During this time, I originally didn’t have time to bother with Chloe, but unexpectedly, one of my friends brought her up. “How are you getting along with your future sister-in-law? She’s quite something, isn’t she?” The speaker was my childhood friend, Brian White. His expression and demeanor clearly said, ‘I know everything, but I’m not telling. I’m waiting for you to ask.’ This guy has been like this since we were kids. I gave him a sidelong glance. His smile became even more sly. “This little girl was just an intern in your family’s company. She hadn’t been there long before she had your fool of a brother completely smitten.” I scoffed, “Is that all? Who doesn’t know that? Tell me something I don’t know.” Brian wasn’t offended and continued, “Well, did you know that this person had only one goal from the moment she entered the company? It was to seduce your brother. Now she’s going around calling herself the Sanders family’s daughter-in-law, using this identity to show off everywhere.” I finally turned to look at him. Brian proudly took out his phone and showed me several screenshots of conversations between Chloe and her girlfriends. [William Sanders is already in my pocket. What kind of rich young master? He’s putty in my hands.] [William took me home to meet his parents. The Sanders’ house is so big, and they even have a housekeeper. I must hold onto this tightly.] [William’s sister is coming home soon. In families like this, the sister-in-law is always a potential threat. When she gets home, I need to give her a good lesson to put her in her place.] How foolish, to dare to boast about such things. She really can’t keep her mouth shut. I inwardly criticized, then turned back to Brian, “And what’s your relationship with the person in these screenshots?” Brian grinned, and I looked at him with disdain. He was quite frank about it. “What’s the big deal? It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. Who’s like your brother?”

However, I couldn’t help but keep an eye on Chloe. From my observations, this person’s ambition was not small. On the surface, she appeared gentle, kind, and innocent, not fighting or grabbing for anything, seemingly not after anything. But in reality, she didn’t deprive herself of anything. She had my brother convert her to a full-time employee, promote her, and give her a cushy position in the department. She went from occasionally staying over to practically moving into our house. She was good at playing the victim and knew how to make people like her. In this house, except for me and the housekeeper, she greeted everyone with a smile. Pleasing my parents was to win over her future in-laws, and coddling my brother was to get married quickly and become the real Mrs. Sanders. Only towards me, her sister-in-law, she didn’t even bother to pretend. When she saw Mrs. Wilson bringing me a late-night snack, she made a fuss about wanting some too. But it was already very late, and the soup had been simmering for hours. It was too late to make it now, and Mrs. Wilson was about to go to bed. When she heard Mrs. Wilson was unwilling, she put her hands on her hips and put on her young mistress airs again. “What? I want to have some soup and you can’t make it for me? Are you the Sanders family’s housekeeper or some pampered lady? Can’t I even give you an order now?” Mrs. Wilson had no choice but to go make it for her. She was so domineering, yet in front of my parents, she always yielded to me. I couldn’t be bothered to play such a poor act with her, never giving her a good face. This contrast made me look like the unreasonable one. I once tentatively asked my brother if he really wanted to marry Chloe. Did he really know this person? My brother just treated it as me throwing a childish tantrum, saying he would marry her in the future and hoped I would get along well with her. My parents were also becoming increasingly fond of Chloe. Chloe would accompany my mom shopping, buying bags. No matter what my mom liked, she would praise my mom’s taste, flattering her to no end. Of course, she would often receive gifts from her future mother-in-law. Exchanging emotional value for material value, both of them were very satisfied. My brother was naturally happy to see their good relationship between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. I was the only one in this family who didn’t like her. This contrast became increasingly obvious, and I started to look like the real villain. Because of this, Chloe became more confident in facing me, treating me even more excessively in places where my parents couldn’t see. “Sister’s room is really big. When I marry your brother, can we move to this room? After all, you’ll be married off by then. I think the lighting and space here are the best. It would be a shame if it were left vacant.” It sounded like she was asking, but her tone was more like she was informing me. So she had her eye on my room from the beginning. I glanced at my brother standing nearby, and he didn’t say a word. I laughed in anger, “Is that so? You might not even marry into this family, and you’re already thinking about taking my room? And since you’ve hooked my brother, isn’t he going to buy you your own marital home? Why do you have to stay in my family’s house?” “Mollie! Don’t talk nonsense.” My mom had heard what I said and came over. “Chloe, don’t take her seriously.” My mom even turned to comfort Chloe, then said to me, “Is that how you should talk? Quickly apologize to your brother and Chloe.” I wouldn’t. Although I realized I shouldn’t have said that, I refused to apologize in front of Chloe. Seeing my mom also taking her side, Chloe’s look towards me became even more arrogant. “It’s okay, Auntie. Mollie is just throwing a tantrum. We won’t move out. William and I want to stay with you. I want to take care of you in your old age.” After challenging me with her eyes, she easily spouted flattering words to my mom. My brother also played the peacemaker, “Don’t blame Mollie. It was Chloe joking about switching rooms with her. Chloe took it seriously.” He turned to me as if coaxing a child who doesn’t understand, “Your sister-in-law was just teasing you. Don’t be angry, okay?” My mom also repeatedly praised her for being understanding and scolded me for being petty, saying it was just a joke and reprimanding me for being intolerant.

Seeing that they were really starting to prepare for the wedding, I began to panic. I couldn’t let her really marry into my family. We couldn’t possibly live with this drama queen, could we? Taking advantage of a day when Chloe wasn’t at our house, I called a family meeting with my parents and brother. “I don’t agree with Chloe marrying into our family.” As soon as I said this, my parents and brother looked at me. My mom said, “Mollie, don’t make trouble.” My brother seemed unsurprised, “As your sister-in-law predicted, you really don’t agree.” Well done, she even predicted this. My brother seemed somewhat exasperated, “Why are you so dissatisfied with Chloe? You seem to dislike her in every way. When she told me, I didn’t believe it. I didn’t expect you to still try to make things difficult for her at this time.” As he spoke, my brother had a look of feeling wronged on her behalf, “Mollie, can’t you just give her a chance for my sake? If you really don’t like her, after we get married, I’ll move out. Is that okay? We won’t live together.” It seems Chloe had already given my brother a preemptive warning. I knew that whatever I said next, he would think it was just an excuse because I didn’t like Chloe. She really was deeply scheming. I knew it was useless to say anything more, so I directly took out those chat records between Chloe and her girlfriends.

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