Category: English

I broke up with Adrian Guthrie, receiving a $900,000 severance package, a Mercedes, and a condo in downtown Los Angeles. I never knew I was worth so much. After shipping a bunch of stuff back home, I headed to the train station with the designer bag Adrian had bought me just days before. I chose to take the train because I wanted to come full circle. Five years ago, I had arrived in LA by train from a small, nameless town up north, leading to my encounter with Adrian and our subsequent five-year arrangement. I deliberately bought a coach ticket, planning to enjoy the scenery along the way. It seemed fitting for this journey. But as the carriage filled with chatter and various accents, I couldn’t help but shed a tear, falling into deep reminiscence. After dropping out of high school, I had apprenticed at a local hair salon for over a year. Against my family’s wishes, I set off for LA with just $1,500, claiming I wanted to make something of myself. But at nineteen, I was too young and naive to understand the harshness of the world. If I hadn’t met Adrian, I probably wouldn’t have lasted five days before heading back home. As soon as I got off the train, I realized my phone was gone. Faced with the vastness of LA and the bustling streets, I helplessly crouched down and cried. I had less than $100 in cash on me, and my phone contained all my savings. Without it, I couldn’t even get back home. But crying wouldn’t solve anything. I took a cab to the nearest police station to file a report. The officer, seeing how pitiful I looked, let me stay at the station while they checked nearby surveillance cameras for clues. I knew the chances were slim. In such a crowded place, a skilled pickpocket could easily snatch a phone without being noticed. It was at the police station that I first met Adrian. He was there for a traffic incident, his tailored suit a stark contrast to the surroundings. We sat next to each other, me looking miserable, him expressionless. Seemingly bored, Adrian struck up a conversation. “What brings you here, little miss? In trouble?” I glanced at him, thinking I might have swooned if not for the circumstances. But as soon as I opened my mouth, I burst into tears. “My phone was stolen.” Adrian looked a bit flustered, quickly grabbing some tissues and handing them to me. “Oh, it’s not a big deal. Can’t your parents just buy you a new one?” This only made me cry harder. Perhaps I needed an outlet for my frustration, so I sobbed out my whole unfortunate story. I was crying so hard I started hiccupping. Adrian seemed a bit put off, inching away as if afraid I’d get snot and tears on his suit. “Young people need to face some setbacks,” he said. “When I was in my teens, I went to study in Europe with just a few hundred dollars. I lost it all and had to work part-time jobs for a year to make ends meet.” Looking at his expensive suit and designer watch, I figured he must be doing well now. His past hardships hadn’t been in vain. Just then, the officer handling my case returned with a shifty-looking middle-aged man and my phone. I don’t know how they caught him, but I was so happy I gave the officer a big hug before scurrying out of the station. In my excitement, I completely forgot about the man in the suit. Looking back, I regret not sneaking a photo – he was so handsome. I found a job as a hairstylist assistant through an online job board. They said I wasn’t qualified to be a full stylist yet, and the assistant position only paid $1,800 a month, but it included housing. In hindsight, I was lucky in my naivety. Not only did I get my phone back, but my first job was at a legitimate salon. I could have easily fallen prey to a scam or worse. After working there for about a month, I saw Adrian for the second time. He came to the salon for a haircut, still in his impeccable suit, driving a black Mercedes. I was assigned to wash his hair. He squinted at me, seeming to find me familiar but not quite placing me. After the wash, he suddenly pointed at me and said, “I want her to cut my hair.” “Mr. Guthrie, she’s new and might not be skilled enough yet,” the stylist said, looking worried. It would be a small matter if I messed up, but offending a customer would be a big deal. Adrian waved his hand, insisting. The stylist had no choice but to give me a “good luck” look. Halfway through the cut, Adrian suddenly said, “I remember you now. You were at the police station that day, weren’t you?” I felt incredibly awkward, not wanting my coworkers to know about the police station incident. We’d been working together for a while, and knowing too much could make things uncomfortable. Without thinking, I covered his mouth with my hand, smearing his face with hair clippings. Adrian’s face darkened. Realizing my mistake, I quickly apologized. How stupid of me! Perhaps seeing me in such a vulnerable state before made me unsure how to face him now. Or maybe it was just the classic Cinderella-meets-CEO moment meant to happen. Aside from my competitive coworkers, Adrian became the first person I grew familiar with in LA. I still don’t know how my silly self caught Mr. Guthrie’s eye back then. He asked me out on an ordinary evening as I was leaving work with my colleagues. I saw him leaning against his car, smoking. It was the same Mercedes, perfectly matching his aura. My coworkers nudged me, hinting that Adrian was there for me. But I stood frozen, my whole body stiff. At nineteen, I might have been young, but I wasn’t completely clueless. I could understand Adrian coming to the salon frequently for haircuts, but now he was waiting for me so blatantly. I could no longer ignore that strange feeling. Did he want to sleep with me? I was self-aware enough to know that besides my young, pretty face, I had little to offer him. Seeing that I wasn’t moving, Adrian stubbed out his cigarette and walked over, unceremoniously pushing me towards the car. “Come on, let’s go get dinner.” Under my colleagues’ burning gazes, I got into the Mercedes’ passenger seat. After driving for five minutes, I finally spoke up. “Do you… want to sleep with me?” As soon as I asked, my face felt like it was on fire. It was awkward to ask, but I had to. My parents were honest, hardworking people, and although I was a bit rebellious, I had never done anything too out of line. I hadn’t even liked anyone before. If I hadn’t met Adrian, my life would probably have been very ordinary. Maybe I’d go back home one day and marry some local guy, or maybe I’d stay in LA and keep working menial jobs. But I did meet Adrian, and even when I asked such a blunt question, he just glanced at me and nodded. Seeing my disbelieving look, he explained, “You’re cute and pretty. It’s not strange that I’d want something to happen between us, is it?” “But… no, let me out. I won’t do it,” I wanted to say so much. I felt it was insulting, but he was so straightforward that I found myself at a loss for words. “How about I become your sugar daddy? $15,000 a month,” Adrian said. This was even more shocking than a one-night stand. I couldn’t believe that I would be associated with the term “sugar baby.” But at that moment, I became surprisingly calm. Even now, five years later, I can’t remember exactly how I reacted. All I know is that by the time I came to my senses, I was sitting with Adrian in a restaurant, and I had agreed to his proposal. Maybe it was vanity, or maybe I had read too many romance novels. Under those conditions, it was hard not to be tempted. But after agreeing, I felt regretful. My parents hadn’t raised me to be someone’s mistress. But it was too late. For a long time afterward, I was torn between feeling that my actions were immoral and indulging in the lifestyle. I still remember that Adrian took me to eat hot pot that night. After dinner, he took me straight to his apartment. It wasn’t very big, just a two-bedroom, but I ended up living there for five years. He didn’t do anything that night, perhaps sensing my nervousness. He was even considerate enough to sleep in separate rooms. Later, when I asked him about it, he said, “You smelled like hot pot and had this ‘sacrificial lamb’ look on your face. You were even trembling when I held your hand. It completely killed the mood.” What he didn’t know was that even with his concession, I didn’t sleep a wink that night. The next day, after work, I moved my things into his apartment with his help. I stayed at the salon for another week before I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t stand my colleagues’ looks and whispers. But I couldn’t deny it either – after all, I had indeed started an inappropriate relationship with Adrian, as they said. After quitting, I didn’t just sit around. Adrian gave me six months’ worth of money upfront, very generously. With $90,000 in my account, I didn’t know how to spend it, so I signed up for a bunch of classes – art, yoga, English, you name it. The reason I hadn’t continued my education before was due to my mediocre grades and rebellious attitude. Now, sitting down to study again, I found I had more patience. Adrian said, “Not bad, you know how to please your sugar daddy.” I pushed him away, annoyed. “I’m just bored. I’m rich now, you know. If I don’t spend it, it’ll just collect dust.” Adrian pressed me down on the couch, his breathing heavy. “Then how about pleasing your sugar daddy now?” I was still nervous, but I leaned in and kissed him on the lips, my attempts at seduction clumsy. Our first time wasn’t exactly great. I was too afraid of pain, so I started resisting and refusing as soon as he entered me. But with things already in motion, he couldn’t just stop, so we went through with it. Initially, he didn’t come every day. Sometimes it was every two weeks, sometimes every few days. We didn’t always have sex either. But when he discovered I couldn’t cook, he complained, “Damn, I’m paying all this money and getting nothing but sex in return. I’ve brought a freeloader into my home.” However, he didn’t force me to learn. When he came over, we’d order takeout or go out to eat. Occasionally, he’d cook. But since I was bored anyway, I decided to take some cooking classes too. The first time I cooked, I made four dishes. Three were disasters, and only the tomato and egg stir-fry was barely edible. It was my least favorite dish, but Adrian ate it happily, even mixing it with rice and finishing the small plate. He was being very polite. After eating, he grumbled, “You’re the real boss here,” and then went to make me a bowl of noodles. But my cooking skills improved quickly. My dishes went from looking okay to tasting okay, and eventually became delicious. I couldn’t compete with restaurant chefs, but I could handle home cooking just fine. When I first came to LA, I had a short, chin-length haircut that made me look cute and lively. By the time my hair reached my shoulders, Adrian and I had grown much closer. By the time I had long hair down to my waist, Adrian and I had become accustomed to each other. He would let me know if he wasn’t coming home at night, though he didn’t report his entire schedule. If he wasn’t coming back, he’d always say, “Lock the door and take care of yourself.” Aside from the monthly $15,000 deposit, I almost believed we were in a real relationship. Two years into our arrangement, Adrian’s family found me. It was his mother. When I got home one day, she was already sitting on the sofa, dressed in designer clothes and expensive jewelry. Adrian had shown me her photo before, so I recognized her immediately – a true socialite. I felt awkward and even scared, remembering scenes from novels where the rich mother throws money at the mistress and tells her to stay away from her son. I wondered if I should take the money and leave, or righteously declare, “I don’t want your dirty money. We’re in love!” But Adrian’s mother was different from what I had imagined. She just patted the sofa beside her, gesturing for me to sit down. She was even kind, you could say. “So you’re Mia? How long have you been with Adrian?” she asked. I felt exposed in front of her. “A little over two years,” I replied. She nodded, looking me over. “You are very pretty. No wonder Adrian comes here so often.” My face instantly turned red with embarrassment and guilt. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” She shook her head, smiling. “Don’t be nervous. I just wanted to meet you. I have no other intentions. After all, you’ve been with him for so long. I’m like half a parent to you.” It seemed she knew about our arrangement, referring to me being “with him” rather than us being “together.” This made me feel a bit relieved. “Adrian’s company is close by, so he often stays here,” I explained. His mother didn’t say anything more and left soon after, as if she really had just come to see me. It wasn’t until Adrian and I separated that I understood.

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He claimed it was just borrowing sperm, a simple transaction. Yet every holiday, I found myself with only half the gifts, forever the afterthought, the leftover. This isn’t just a secret; it’s a betrayal that her husband deserves to know. Because how can I ever find my true love if I remain shackled to the ghost of their deceit? Elena’s post hit like a slap in the face, but this slap came slow, deliberate, savoring every sting it left behind. The ultrasound was the centerpiece—a blurred, wriggling shadow growing inside her. And the caption—god, the caption—dripped with condescending sweetness. “Thank you to my dear Mike for lending me the gift I needed when I was most helpless. Soon, we’ll meet our little miracle.” As if Mike had merely donated a pen, a book—something insignificant. Not like he’d lent her sperm. My fingers hovered over the screen for what felt like an eternity. Every letter of my comment seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. “Congratulations to both of you,” I typed, my heart shattering with each word. And yet, as I hit send, it was as if I’d just let go of the last thread of dignity I had left. Mike’s voice came through like a thunderclap, full of fury and disdain. “I just lent my sperm to Elena, can you stop making a fuss?” The coldness in his voice had settled deep into my chest, numbing the ache that once throbbed there. It was clear—it’s time to let go. I placed my trembling hands over my slightly bulging belly. The life growing inside me was supposed to be our future,and I had planned to surprise Mike on our anniversary, imagining his face lighting up with joy. But now, that fantasy shattered before me. He didn’t deserve it—didn’t deserve us. “I’m sorry,” I whispered to the baby inside me, my voice breaking. This was supposed to be the beginning of a new chapter, a fresh start. Instead, it was a quiet farewell, to a life that could have been, and to a man who never truly cared. The dam inside me broke, and tears began to spill down my cheeks. Mike never wanted this, never wanted us. The intimacy between us had been hollow for years, each touch empty, each kiss colder than the last. That night, Mike came home early, something he rarely did. I heard him call my name from the hallway, his voice carrying a forced warmth that made my stomach turn. But I couldn’t answer him. I lay still in the bedroom, the silence between us thick, like an ocean of words unspoken. The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom, and with each drip, my heart sank deeper. The sound of the water stopped, and the door creaked open. In the darkness, I felt him—his presence as undeniable as the ache in my chest. He moved quietly, deliberately, like a shadow slipping into the room. I could hear his soft footsteps, the rustle of his clothes, but I refused to move, to acknowledge him. Then, out of nowhere, he was beside me, his arms wrapping around my waist. It was the first time in what felt like forever that he had reached for me, touched me as though I mattered. His warmth seeped through my thin pajamas, an unexpected and unsettling comfort. His body pressed against mine, but my heart was already miles away, frozen like stone. My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I kept my breath steady, unwilling to let him see the storm raging inside me. This sudden tenderness wasn’t love. It was a last gasp. “Wife, I lent my sperm just to help her fulfill a wish. I promise, as soon as she gives birth, I’ll end things with her completely.” The flattery in his tone, the pleading—it was hollow, like he was trying to plaster over a gaping wound with flimsy words. His voice shifted, the tone growing sharp, laced with impatience. “I’ve been so humble to please you, aren’t you satisfied?” “Don’t forget it was you,” he continued, his words biting, “You said you want to be with me no matter who I had been with.” “I could have kept it from you, but I told you out of respect, and now you’ve really disappointed me.” . “Think carefully about how I’ve treated you recently,” his voice laced with frustration. “You want a child, and I’ve tried my best to accommodate you.” With that, he slammed the door, the echo of it reverberating through the room, leaving me gasping for air, drowning in the suffocating darkness. Mike had disappeared before dawn, vanishing like a ghost, leaving the house cold and empty. I was alone, and the weight of it crushed me. The silence was unbearable, and a part of me knew—I deserved this. I had allowed myself to fall so deeply into this trap, to believe in a love that had long since withered. The phone rang several times, and I reluctantly answered. It was John, one of Mike’s colleagues, expressing concern with a kindness I couldn’t even register. But in his well-meaning words, he let something slip. Mike hadn’t been at work recently. He’d been with her—taking care of Elena. My heart shattered, but I had no time to let the pain consume me. I dragged myself to the hospital, every step heavy with dread, knowing what I had to do. I couldn’t bring this child into a world where love didn’t exist, where the only thing waiting for us was abandonment and betrayal. The abortion was quick. Too quick. Ten minutes was all it took for the life inside me to be erased. When they wheeled me out, I felt hollow, like a shell of the person I used to be. My face was pale, my hands trembling as I numbly handed over my credit card to pay the bill.

But fate, cruel as ever, wasn’t finished with me. As I turned to leave, I saw him. Mike. Standing there, holding Elena by the shoulders, his face twisted in anger. He spotted me before I could slip away, and in an instant, his expression darkened. “Are you following me?” he barked, his voice filled with accusation, as though I were the one intruding on his life, as if I were the problem here. My body still ached from the procedure, my heart even more so. Instead of answering Mike, I turned my gaze to Elena. She shifted uncomfortably under my stare. But rather than confronting the weight of the moment, she feigned anger, pulling Mike’s ear playfully, her voice dripping with insincerity. “How can you talk like that? Why would Mary follow us? We’re open and honest with each other, and it’s not like Mary doesn’t understand.” All I could manage was a bitter smile, tinged with the sharp taste of irony. “Yes, what does it have to do with me if you and your wife come for a prenatal checkup? Why would I follow you?” But Mike’s anger flared, and his voice sliced through the tension. “What do you mean? I only regard Elena as my sister!”

3 Elena’s eyes glinted with mischief as she accused Mike, her voice dripping with mock outrage. “How could you do that?!” she yelled, but that sly smile gave her away. A wave of nausea hit me, and I leaned heavily against the wall, gritting my teeth against the pain. Suddenly, she collapsed dramatically onto the ground, clutching her stomach and wailing, “I can’t believe this is happening!” The absurdity of her antics clashed with my suffering, amplifying the tension as I struggled to rise, feeling utterly betrayed by the chaos swirling around me. “Mike, don’t!” I wanted to scream, but the words lodged in my throat as he rushed to Elena’s side, leaving me behind. “If anything happens to Elena, I will never forgive you!” he shouted, his voice echoing in my ears like a death knell. A cold sweat broke out across my skin as pain coursed through me, each pulse feeling like a knife cutting deeper. “I’m even more glad I didn’t have this child,” I thought bitterly, irony and sadness twisting in my chest. “How can a man who doesn’t even love his wife truly love her child?” When I finally made it home, my hands trembled as I reached for my phone, desperate to pour out my resentment and pain. But then I saw it—Elena’s post. The image of Mike’s back loomed like a shadow, the caption cutting deep: “With a man who loves me like this, I feel safe.” Jorge’s comments stung like venom, each word dripping with disdain. “You’ve been with Elena for so many years, and everyone knows you can’t let go, so why don’t you follow your heart?” His sarcastic tone ignited a fire in me, fanning the flames of my anger. I couldn’t hold it back any longer; my fingers flew over the screen as I typed, “We’re getting divorced soon. I can’t believe you’ve been worrying about Mike for all these years.” As I hit send, a surge of satisfaction coursed through me, washing away the weight of unspoken grievances. Then, I opened my Moments and selected two pictures, one of which was a pregnancy report, and the other was a miscarriage report. A complex emotion surged in my heart, and I typed: “Finally I can be free.” At that moment, it seemed that all the repression and pain were released in this sentence.

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I’m Sweet and Kind in Front of My Boyfriend, But Vicious and Cunning to His Sister I subtly turned this family upside down. Eventually, I drove his sister to jump off a building. In the bitter winter, her crimson blood seeped into the pristine snow. It looked exactly like the scene when my sister died years ago. This was the first time Ryan brought me to meet his parents. Looking at the upscale neighborhood before me, I nervously tugged at his sleeve and asked, “What if your parents don’t like me?” Ryan ruffled my hair reassuringly. “My parents aren’t that picky. Don’t worry, I’m here with you.” With that, he held my hand tightly and walked in. Having lived as a dependent for years, I was adept at reading people’s reactions. I could sense that Ryan’s parents were quite satisfied with me, especially when they saw the gifts I brought. They couldn’t stop praising my thoughtfulness. Ryan chimed in at the right moment: “Dad, Aria knew you’re into tech research, so she specifically bought you the latest Alienware laptop.” “Mom, this bag is from Aria’s business trip to Europe. She went to five different streets to get this new release. It’s not even available in the States yet.” Emma, however, looked at the clothes in her hands and asked confusedly, “What brand is this? Where’s the label?” I explained, “Emma, I heard from your brother that you’ve been into qipaos recently. As I studied fashion design, I thought I’d make one for you myself.” Of course, I had chosen ordinary silk fabric that only cost a few dollars wholesale. Emma frowned slightly, clearly unimpressed. “What’s with that attitude?” Ryan, displeased with his sister’s reaction, spoke up to defend me. “Aria stayed up several nights to make this dress for you. She even hurt her hands!” Emma glanced at her parents’ expensive gifts, then at the cheap item in her hands. She pursed her lips but said nothing more. That night, I deliberately ate two bowls of rice, my stomach aching from being overly full. Yet, I maintained a smile on my face, praising the deliciousness of the meal. “No wonder Ryan grew so tall. It’s not just Mr. Parker’s excellent genes, but also Mrs. Parker’s superb cooking skills.” Mrs. Parker was very pleased with this comment, beaming from ear to ear. She paused for a moment, then added regretfully, “But now Ryan rarely comes home, and Emma is always on about dieting. If only they were like you, I’d have more motivation to cook.” I smiled wryly. “Ryan is just too busy with work, it can’t be helped. But why is Emma on a diet? She’s already so thin! If it were me, I wouldn’t be able to resist Mrs. Parker’s delicious food. Who cares about gaining weight? Health is what matters.” “Exactly! Well said!” Hearing this, Mrs. Parker pointed at Emma, who was flipping through a magazine, and complained, “Look at you, you don’t know how good you have it!” Emma’s face darkened, and she gave me a meaningful look. She wasn’t angry because of the scolding, but because I wasn’t the one being scolded. I smiled. This was nothing compared to what was coming. I’ll never forget that winter night ten years ago. My older sister leaped from the rooftop like a desperate, broken-winged bird, shattering into pieces, her body a bloody mess. She died tragically, but resolutely. That image was etched deep into my bones, leaving me utterly hopeless. It turns out that when people are in extreme pain, they remain silent, unable to make any sound at all. At that moment, I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat. I stared blankly as the glaring red gradually became covered by the pristine white snow. My hand loosened, and the bag of candied chestnuts fell to the ground. A few rolled out, crushed under the panicked crowd’s feet, as if they were crushing someone else’s entire life. After our parents died in a car accident, our uncle took responsibility for caring for me and my sister, conveniently taking the compensation money as well. The two sisters lived under someone else’s roof, enduring cold stares. Fortunately, we were both diligent, always at the top of our class. My sister often told me to hang in there, promising that she would give me the best life in the future, and we wouldn’t have to swallow our pride and endure others’ contempt anymore. But for some reason, her grades started plummeting from her junior year of high school. In the end, unable to bear the pressure, she committed suicide by jumping off a building. At the time, this incident even made it to the newspapers, with the theme of caring for the mental health of teenagers. But I always felt something was off. My sister rarely came home as she lived in the school dorms. Her belongings were reluctantly packed up from her dorm room by our aunt and uncle. They put her things in a box. Aunt wouldn’t let me touch it, saying it was unlucky. She was hesitant to throw it away but also fearful of keeping it, so she ended up locking it in the attic. A year later, when I graduated from middle school, my uncle’s family of three went on vacation during the summer break, leaving me the key and telling me to watch the house. I took the opportunity to open the attic door, found the box, and discovered my sister’s diary. It was filled with detailed records of her being bullied. Some of the writing was blurred by tears, but it couldn’t hide the horrifying experiences. It was as if I had opened Pandora’s box. My hands couldn’t stop shaking. The culprit was Emma Parker. She wasn’t from a wealthy family, but her family was well-off. She was pretty and always had a group of followers who obeyed her every command. My sister had excellent grades, but because of her aloof personality and a birthmark on her face, she inexplicably became Emma’s target and a source of amusement during her reckless years. Emma and her gang cornered my sister in the bathroom, stripped her clothes off, and took photos to blackmail her into keeping quiet. In the dorm room, Emma tied up my sister’s hands and feet, gagged her, wrapped her in a quilt, and beat her. Apparently, this was a method used by prison inmates to bully newcomers. It was very painful but didn’t leave visible marks. Emma never tired of it, constantly coming up with new ways to torment her. Putting thumbtacks in her shoes, throwing her backpack in the pool, pouring drinks on her bed… Teenage girls are like apples on early autumn branches, slightly sour but sweet, waiting to ripen and fall. But if a worm gets in, and isn’t removed in time, the rot will only spread until the fruit completely withers. Emma was that worm. Finally, my sister couldn’t take it anymore and sought help from a teacher. But her classmates all said Emma was cheerful and generous, and had never bullied anyone. The matter was dismissed. Things seemed to calm down for a while. Little did we know, it was just the calm before the avalanche. One night, as my sister was dozing off, she was suddenly tied up and gagged. When the lights came on, it was Emma’s sweet yet vicious smile. Her followers surrounded them. Emma held an electric shaver in her hand. The buzzing sound was like a demon’s whisper, beating against every nerve in my sister’s scalp. Chunks of black hair fell, stripping away her last shred of dignity. Emma stroked my sister’s bald head, very satisfied. But it wasn’t over. She produced a thick iron chain from somewhere and put it around my sister’s neck, laughing wildly, boasting that this was her pet dog. Then she took out her phone and video called her brother. The camera was pointed at my sister. The siblings critiqued my sister’s appearance, their words like cold knives stabbing into her organs. Through the screen, my sister heard Ryan’s deep, contemptuous voice. He said, “What an obedient dog. I’ve taken a screenshot, I’ll share it with the boys.” “Wait,” Emma added, “Bro, I have even better photos here, the kind where she’s not wearing anything. I’ll send them to you.” She looked at my sister, raising her eyebrows triumphantly: “I warned you before not to talk nonsense, but you were just too disobedient.” The mocking laughter never ceased, successfully breaking down my sister’s last psychological defense. After that, rumors spread throughout the class, saying she was dirty, so dirty that she had lice in her hair. Everyone avoided her, building an invisible wall three feet away, standing on top of it to point and whisper. Even the places she walked and the things she used had to be sprayed with disinfectant. She started having frequent nightmares, couldn’t rest well, her grades plummeted, and she often had hallucinations, her mental state becoming abnormal. I remember when my sister came home one weekend, she looked at me quietly, her bright eyes clearly reflecting my image. At that moment, it was as if I was her entire world. I froze and asked, “Sis… where’s your hair?” “It was so itchy, itchy to the point that my heart and lungs were burning with discomfort, so I shaved it off.” She caressed my cheek with a loving expression. I was about to say something when I heard our aunt’s impatient voice from the living room: “Which one of you is going out to buy groceries? Two extra mouths to feed out of nowhere, and not a bit of consideration!” Hearing this, my sister smiled at me gently, took out five dollars, and said, “You go. And buy a bag of candied chestnuts while you’re at it. I know you’ve been craving them.” “Okay, we’ll eat them together when I get back!” I ran hurriedly, wanting to come back and have a good heart-to-heart with my sister. Little did I know, that would be our final goodbye. I never forgot Emma Parker. Nor did I forget her brother who aided and abetted her. Apparently, he was the campus heartthrob at his university. I found his photo on the school website and learned about his post-graduation whereabouts from the forum. I closely followed his social media accounts and went to great lengths to guess his preferences. In my junior year of college, I interned at Ryan’s company, deliberately getting close to him, creating an image of a Mary Sue protagonist from a poor background, orphaned, but excellent in academics and working part-time jobs, refusing to bow to fate. Little did he know, I was following a revenge script. I was pretty, smart, and had a good personality. I quickly caught Ryan’s attention and made him actively pursue me. I didn’t love him, so I could also keep him in check. In the second year of our relationship, I proposed breaking up, saying I had fallen for someone else. Ryan didn’t believe it. He started following me. When I returned to the old neighborhood and deliberately provoked my aunt to get angry, deliberately forcing her to lay hands on me, with my cries echoing in the alley, Ryan kicked the door open. He played the role of a hero saving the damsel in distress. At that time, I was covered in bruises. I bit my lip, tears in my eyes, looked at him, and said word by word: “You should go. I don’t want to drag you down.” I had practiced this expression in front of the mirror countless times, not missing a single detail. Even the loose strands of hair falling on my forehead added a touch of beauty to the scene. Pitiful and helpless. Like a desperate and helpless little deer. Ryan’s eyes were full of heartache. He reached out and hugged me, saying firmly: “Don’t say such nonsense. As long as I’m here, no one can bully you.” I buried my face in his chest, the corners of my mouth slightly curled up. The fish had taken the bait. Later, that sentence would come true for Emma. That night, there was a heavy rainstorm with thunder and lightning. I stayed at Ryan’s place. The next day, however, I found a qipao in the kitchen trash can, cut to pieces. My shoulders trembled slightly, and I looked at Emma in disbelief. She explained nervously: “I didn’t cut it! I just threw…” Her voice trailed off. Emma lowered her head guiltily. She had never liked the gift and didn’t think much of me, so she was naturally eager to throw it away. At the time, the qipao was still covered by a pile of fruit peels and paper scraps. I had secretly dug it out in the middle of the night and cut it to pieces myself. Ryan shouted angrily at Emma: “You’ve gone too far! No manners at all!” Hmph, manners? The pot calling the kettle black. I suppressed the cold mockery in my heart, my eyes slightly red, head lowered, and said to Emma in an almost humble tone: “I’m sorry, I didn’t consider it properly this time. I’ll get you something else next time, as an apology.” Ryan was extremely distressed. He put his arm around me and said angrily: “What apology? If anything, she should be apologizing to you!” Mrs. Parker was also disappointed: “Child, how come you’re getting more and more ill-mannered as you grow up? It was Aria’s heartfelt gift after all!” Emma was stunned, feeling wronged. Under Ryan’s stern rebuke, she very reluctantly apologized to me. On the way back, Ryan looked guilty: “Emma has been spoiled by the family, doing whatever she wants. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” I shook my head: “This little grievance is nothing to me. Besides, your sister is just a bit spoiled, but she’s not bad-hearted. Ryan, you don’t need to blame her too much.” Ryan stroked my cheek, his eyes filled with even more guilt. After that, I often visited Mrs. Parker. I was always courteous and never empty-handed. When she cooked, I helped cut vegetables. After meals, I took the initiative to wash dishes. I found various ways to praise her culinary skills, invited her to go shopping and watch plays on weekends, shared trivial matters around me, and health tips I saw online. From time to time, I would sigh: “It feels so good to have a mom around.” Every time Mrs. Parker heard this, she couldn’t help but sigh, then hold my hand affectionately and say, “Aria, from now on, you’re a member of the Parker family.” I’m not stupid. I’m not Mrs. Parker’s child, how could she truly care about me? She was just too lonely. Ryan and Emma had grown up and had their own lives. Mr. Parker was a university professor, always either writing papers or doing experiments. Mrs. Parker was getting on in years, with no friends and no social life. She just hoped to have someone to keep her company. Occasionally when we went shopping and met sweet-talking salespeople, they would enthusiastically praise: “Ma’am, you’re so blessed. Your daughter is beautiful and filial, buying you so many things.” It didn’t matter, I was using Ryan’s card anyway. At first, Mrs. Parker would explain that I was her daughter-in-law, but soon, she just smiled and accepted it. One day, I was carrying bags of shopping with Mrs. Parker when we returned home. We turned on the lights to find Emma looking displeased. She quickly glanced at me, then looked at Mrs. Parker, her expression aggrieved, and asked, “Mom, today is my birthday. Do you remember?” There was a birthday cake on the table. The candles had already gone out. Mr. Parker was out of town for an academic conference. Ryan was also away on a business trip and couldn’t return anytime soon. Emma had recently broken up with her boyfriend and had a falling out with her best friend. In the empty house, there was only one forgotten birthday girl. Mrs. Parker was stunned. She had clearly forgotten. But I remembered. That’s why I deliberately took Mrs. Parker to see a comedy show she liked, and deliberately bought tickets for the late show. I smiled and said to Emma, “Of course we remembered. That’s why Mom specifically took me shopping today to buy you lots of new clothes.” Mrs. Parker came to her senses and hurriedly said, “Yes, yes, Emma, try them on quickly.” She looked at me with disgust and asked, “Who do you think you are? What right do you have to interfere in matters between my mother and me? What, you don’t have a mom so you’re trying to steal someone else’s?” Mrs. Parker’s face changed. She frowned, “Emma! How can you talk like that!” Hearing this, I silently put down the bags. As I bent down, I bit my tongue hard, immediately causing tears to flow. When I raised my head again, it was a face streaked with tears. I sniffled and said in a choked voice, “Emma, I know you don’t like me, but shouldn’t there be at least some basic respect? Besides, your birthday is also the day your mother went through hardship to give birth to you. If you can’t be grateful, at least don’t blame your elders, right?” With that, I ignored Mrs. Parker who wanted to wipe my tears and left directly. That night, Ryan called. His voice was lazy as he asked, “Honey, where did you and mom go play today?” I didn’t say anything. I just kept sniffling. There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, then his tone became serious: “Are you crying?” I let out a long sigh and said chokingly, “No, I just watched a pretty heartbreaking movie.” “What’s it called?” “… I don’t remember.” Ryan wanted to say something more, but I interrupted him: “Ryan, I’m a bit tired. I’m going to sleep now.” I immediately turned off my phone. The next morning, Ryan appeared at my doorstep. There were faint dark circles under his eyes, clearly he hadn’t slept all night. I put on a surprised expression: “Why did you come back?” Ryan reached out and hugged me, saying guiltily, “Aria, Mom told me everything.” “I scolded Emma harshly. That girl is really hateful. She’s three years older than you, yet not even half as good as you.” I said helplessly, “Let it go, I won’t hold it against her. But Ryan, I was really embarrassed yesterday. I left without saying goodbye to your mom. I feel bad about it now. I want to buy her a necklace.” “It’s okay, my mom feels like she owes you an apology instead.” I pursed my lips and said nothing. Ryan tapped my nose. “Why don’t we buy two necklaces? One for each of you.” He increased the credit limit on his card. I bought two identical diamond necklaces, which were quite expensive. When I gave it to Mrs. Parker, I said, “Mom, as they say, ‘a child’s birth is a mother’s ordeal.’ This is my heartfelt thought. From now on, whenever it’s Ryan’s or Emma’s birthday, I’ll prepare a gift for you too.” She was so moved after hearing this that she couldn’t help but say, “If only Emma was half as thoughtful as you.” On the day of the Mid-Autumn Festival, everyone gathered for a meal. When Emma saw her mother and me wearing matching necklaces, her face turned extremely cold. It wasn’t hard to see that she was eating this meal with a heavy heart. But my appetite was excellent. Mr. Parker was a man of few words. I heard that he was single-mindedly devoted to his research, hoping to win a Nobel Prize in his lifetime, and never cared about anything else. Sure enough, Mr. Parker hurriedly ate a few bites and then left, heading straight for the university laboratory. After the meal, Mrs. Parker suddenly had the urge to show me Ryan’s childhood photos. I smiled and played along for a few sentences, then said, “Mom, I’d like to see Emma’s photos too. She’s so beautiful, she must have been pretty since she was little.” No mother dislikes others praising her children. She hurriedly took out another photo album, explaining as she flipped through it, finally coming to Emma’s high school years. There were two group photos. One was from freshman orientation, and one was from just before graduation. My sister wasn’t in the latter. She originally had a bright future ahead of her, but was forever stuck at seventeen. Mrs. Parker was still chattering on, boasting that Emma often received love letters from boys in high school. Ryan came back from smoking on the balcony and heard this. He sneered, “Emma even chased after the sports representative in her class back then, but unfortunately, he liked the class monitor and rejected her.” Mrs. Parker was surprised, “Oh my, I didn’t know about this. Looks like you two siblings kept quite a few secrets from me.” Ryan’s lips curled into a smile as he continued, “And that class monitor was an ugly girl with a weird personality. It really pissed off your precious daughter at the time.” My sister… was the class monitor. So there was this layer of history. Whether it was suicidal thoughts or jealousy, the impulsiveness of youth was like a bolt of lightning during a tribulation. My sister didn’t dodge it, but Emma successfully cultivated herself. As if on cue, she came out of the shower, drying her wet hair, and said disdainfully, “Just thinking about that short-lived ghost makes me feel unlucky.” I struggled to steady my trembling voice and asked, “Short-lived ghost?” Mrs. Parker suddenly remembered, “Oh, that girl who committed suicide by jumping off a building because her grades dropped? Tsk tsk, with such poor ability to handle pressure, she wouldn’t have amounted to much in society anyway.” Emma sneered, “Mom, you can tell just by looking at her face. Your face reflects your heart, and she had a birthmark on her face, proving her heart was dark too.” What absurd logic! I looked at Emma and raised an eyebrow, “So, you knew her well?” Emma’s face flashed with discomfort. She shrugged, “Anyway, the whole class disliked her.” Then she looked at Ryan meaningfully and said, “In the past, when someone upset me, my brother would always stand on my side. Now it’s different.” Ryan seemed to think of something, his expression stiffened, and he didn’t speak anymore. I lowered my eyes, caressing my sister’s face in the photo, and calmly said, “This girl must have been bullied a lot in class.” Mrs. Parker didn’t seem to care much, “Well, she should look for reasons within herself. Why bully her and not others?” …Well, it’s parents like this that raise children like that. Emma said coldly, “That’s right. Anyway, she deserved to die. If she were alive, she’d just be wasting social resources. She might as well be reborn as a dog.” I took a deep breath, barely suppressing the hatred surging in my heart. Emma suddenly said, “Aria, actually, I have something to give you. It’s in my room.” This caught me by surprise. Once in the bedroom, Emma took out a brand new bottle of perfume. She smiled maliciously, leaned close to me, and said in a low voice, “Use it generously. It might cover up your slutty and poor smell.” Oh, so she called me to the room just to say this. Since that’s the case, I couldn’t let her kindness go to waste. I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face. Emma couldn’t bear this insult. After a moment of shock, she angrily said, “You dare to hit me!” With that, she went crazy, grabbing my hair and banging my head against the wardrobe repeatedly. I didn’t fight back. The commotion was loud. Mrs. Parker and Ryan rushed in, quickly pulling her away. Ryan shielded me and shouted, “Emma Parker, what the fuck is wrong with you!” Mrs. Parker was also furious, “Emma, how could you hit someone!” Emma pointed at the red mark on her face and cried, “Aria hit me first! I was being kind and giving her perfume, thinking that since we’re going to be family, we should get along. But who knew she wouldn’t appreciate it and even mocked the gift for being cheap! Mom, do you think I would slap myself?” “This…” Mrs. Parker looked at me in confusion. I wiped the blood from my forehead and nodded, “That’s right, I hit her first, and I did say the gift was cheap.” Under Emma’s astonished gaze, I raised my face and said solemnly, “It’s not my fault that my parents died. I’m not a harbinger of doom like you say, nor did I ever intend to bring misfortune to your family.” At this point, I became increasingly choked up, “You try to get rid of me with a bottle of perfume and tell me to get lost. Who could bear such humiliation?” I looked at Ryan, tears streaming down my face, “Ryan, I’m not a harbinger of doom. I want to have parents too…” Emma was stunned, hurriedly trying to explain, “She’s lying! I didn’t say she was a harbinger of doom! I didn’t…” “Slap!” This time, it was Ryan who hit her. He hit her hard, causing her to fall to the ground, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Emma held her face, looking at Ryan in disbelief, “Brother… you hit me?” “You’d rather believe an outsider than your own sister?!” Ryan looked at her with extreme disgust and said coldly, “That kind of filthy talk does sound like your style.” Emma cried bitterly, feeling wronged. She shouted at Mrs. Parker, “Mom! Tell me who’s right and who’s wrong!” But Mrs. Parker just frowned and said nothing. As Emma cried, her face gradually showed helplessness,anger, and intense hatred.

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Just as the new semester began, my dad donated ten buildings to the school. The principal called me up on stage to honor me. From below, a disdainful voice rang out. “Is that all?” I was immediately annoyed. “If you think you can do better, then go ahead!” He was quite honest and actually went up. Without hesitation, he donated twenty buildings to the school, along with a national-level laboratory. When I entered the school, my dad was so worried about me being taken advantage of that he immediately donated over 20 million dollars, giving the school ten new buildings. To be honest, this was all because of some authors who wrote about roommates as if their brains had been dug out, bullying people at every turn. It scared my dad so much that he was afraid I’d be bullied, insisting that I absolutely couldn’t keep a low profile. So on the first day of school, I stood on the podium while the principal patted my shoulder, praising me and solemnly promising to make the school bigger and stronger. I was very satisfied. Posts about me on the campus network had already topped the hot topics. “About the Billionaire’s Daughter’s Arrival: A Few Things to Know” The comments below were quite eye-catching: “When will the young lady’s new building be ready? I’m wondering where I should tie myself up.” Just as I was basking in everyone’s praise, a very disdainful voice came from below the podium. “Is that all?” “Ten buildings, what’s there to brag about?” It was a male voice, quite cool and pleasant to hear, but the words weren’t so pleasing. I immediately retorted, “If you think you can do better, then go ahead!” He fell silent. I stood on the stage, looking around for a while, but couldn’t find who had spoken. Oh well, there are trolls everywhere. “On behalf of all faculty and students, I thank Miss Zara Blackwood!” The principal smiled kindly, shaking my hand, almost bowing to me. “It’s nothing,” I said calmly. After all, I’ve heard so much praise about this kind of thing since I was little that my ears have grown calluses. Suddenly, the principal’s phone vibrated. He took a look and immediately turned to the audience below: “Who, which one of you is Finn Thorne?” Huh? Before I could react, a guy who was exactly my type strode up with his long legs. His face was cool, his nose high and straight, with a faint scar on the bridge. Handsome, just the type I like! “Oh my, good things really do come in pairs!” The principal grinned from ear to ear, quickly pulling Finn Thorne to stand between me and him. “Just now, Mr. Finn Thorne donated twenty buildings to our university, along with a national-level laboratory!” I was stunned. Finn Thorne turned his head to look at me, smiling mischievously. He slowly uttered three words. “I went ahead.” Me: ??? “Oh my god, young master!” “So handsome, this young master looks much more noble than that Zara Blackwood!” “I’m Finn Thorne’s dog.” “Yeah, yeah, you’re his dog, and I’ll walk you when I go out with Finn Thorne.” This is a campus, not a deserted island! The people below all exploded into chatter. If they were just envious when I donated ten buildings, then Finn Thorne’s actions were a direct slap to my face. I lost. But not completely. As the daughter of a billionaire, with monthly pocket money enough to buy a company, I couldn’t accept someone outdoing me in showing off wealth. I just couldn’t. So I casually said, “This school doesn’t even have a helipad. It’s such a hassle for me to take a car home.” “Oh well, I’ll just build a helipad for the school.” The principal was dumbfounded. The students below were also stunned. I glanced at Finn Thorne with disdain, wanting to see his defeated expression. But there wasn’t any. His handsome face zoomed in front of me, no more than two fists away, and he smiled. “In that case, I’ll donate two helicopters.” My face felt a bit hot. Just as I was about to speak, he suddenly pulled back his face, smiling ambiguously: “Otherwise, it would be so inconvenient for the young lady, wouldn’t it?” “Ahhhh!” “Help, are these two competing?” “Sorry, I think it’s a bit sweet.” Good buddy, you can’t just say that, you know. I’m already engaged to someone else. The crowd below exploded again. The principal pulled out a handkerchief from somewhere, wiping the sweat on his forehead, “Uh, thank you both… for your contributions to our school.” Have I lost? Absolutely not! “Then I…” Just as I was about to speak, the principal suddenly said, “Alright, this commendation ceremony ends here. Dismissed!” After saying that, the principal hurriedly ran off the podium. Leaving me and Finn Thorne on the stage, we glanced at each other, seeing sparks in each other’s eyes. It’s not over yet, I haven’t lost! Back in the dorm, I lay on the bed, unable to calm down for a long time. The campus network had completely exploded. “I’m so jealous!” “I declare, Zara Blackwood is my wife, my only sister!” “What’s so great about Zara Blackwood? I think Finn Thorne is the real deal, always one step ahead of her.” “I guess Zara Blackwood just bought her degree. She looks like one of those uneducated rich girls, not as talented as Finn Thorne.” ??? I immediately went to look in the mirror. Who says I have no talent, who says I bought my degree! I directly opened my phone and posted my GPA and admission letter. “Let me see, who said my degree was bought? (Picture) (Picture)” The comments below stunned everyone. “I knew my wife couldn’t be uneducated!” “Oh my god, is this the daily life of a billionaire’s daughter?” “Manually @Finn Thorne.” I contentedly looked at the comments below, all praising me. Hmm, much better. At this time, a new message suddenly appeared in the comments. I clicked to see, Finn Thorne had posted something. MIT admission letter. I was stunned. Really stunned. Higher GPA than me, and got an MIT admission letter! With such an admission letter, yet he’s studying here, this guy’s got some high ideals. “Alright, I declare Finn Thorne wins this round.” “The young lady lost badly.” “I’m shipping them, how about you guys?” Can’t ship us!! I angrily threw my phone. My roommate saw this and came over: “Zara, are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I replied grumpily. Where the hell did this Finn Thorne come from, always one step ahead of me! I can’t accept this. Thinking about this, I found my old certificates, opened the campus network, and posted again. “Oh. (Picture) (Picture) @Finn Thorne” The pictures showed my race car driver certification and various racing championship trophies and certificates. Sorry, but I’m well-rounded in academics, morality, and physical education. When other girls were still playing with Barbie dolls, I had already started getting into all kinds of racing cars. Can’t help it, I’ve always loved challenges. The comments once again leaned towards me. “Damn, a beautiful race car driver!” “So cool, so cool, sister kill me!” “Where’s the young master? This old servant needs the young master to come out and show off!” I was satisfied. There was no reply from the other side for a long time, he must be scared. As long as he’s scared, that’s fine. Heh, compare with me, I’ll definitely crush you to death. I scrolled through my phone for a long time, but there was still no reply from him. I fell asleep contentedly. In my dream, I had Finn Thorne under my foot, and he was crying and calling me “Queen”. The next day, I was woken up by my roommate. “Zara, quick, look at the campus network!” I opened my sleepy eyes, pulled out my phone from under my pillow, and clicked on the campus network. It exploded again. Finn Thorne had posted a video last night. He was riding a Ducati, speeding like the wind on the track, far outpacing the other racers on the field. At the finish line, he stopped the bike, coolly took off his helmet, revealing his handsome face, holding a golden trophy in his hand. He also thoughtfully attached some pictures. One showed a dense array of trophies and certificates, and another was an international motorcycle rider qualification certificate. I really want to say QAQ, I lost again. Actually, what I wanted to learn most was motorcycles, but my dad thought it was too dangerous and wouldn’t let me learn no matter what, so I had to give up. But he learned it. Not only did he learn it, but he’s also so good at it. And he’s so handsome, I really can’t take it! Looking at the video of him standing next to the fire-red Ducati, I angrily commented. “Hope you get burned!” He immediately replied: “With your cold words, it’s not hot at all.” You’re tough! “I’m dying of sweetness!” “Oh my god, gods, is this the legendary evenly matched love?” Good buddy, you can’t just say that, you know. I’m already engaged to someone else. It exploded again below. The CP fans shouted that they had won the final victory. A certain hot search hung on the campus network for a whole week. “Finn Thorne and Zara Blackwood are engaged, the CP we’ve been shipping all these years has finally come true!” I really want to thank you. Even CP fiction has come out, with a bunch of people urging for updates below. Have I lost like this? No way, I’m not satisfied. I’ve never been treated like this since I was little! He knows more than me, has more certificates than me, has higher education than me. Is there anything I can beat him at? I thought about it, since I can’t win personally, let’s compete in family background! I flipped through my photo album, found a video I took of my family’s estate, and posted it on the campus network. “My home is too big, how can I not get lost? (Video)” Dragon’s Lair Estate, that’s the largest and most luxurious estate in the entire state, priced at $730,000 per square meter, and my family owns over 60,000 square meters. In the front is the estate, in the back is the villa, nestled against mountains and waters, designed by the most famous courtyard designer in the country. To be honest, even the royal palace might not be better than my home. “Holy shit!” “As long as the young lady is happy, this old servant is willing to carry you on my back!” “Take a picture of the entrance, I think it’s quite suitable for me to tie myself up there!” The other side didn’t reply. Good, round four, I won. I put down my phone contentedly, no longer feeling sleepy, so I dragged my roommate to the cafeteria with me. Eating is the most important thing. “Young lady, is that you, young lady!” As soon as we entered the cafeteria, the people around put their food aside and immediately crowded around. “It’s me, I’m your slave, young lady!” Me: “Hello…” “Ahhhh Zara Blackwood, I’m your dog!” Me: ??? “Young lady, keep going, crush that Finn Thorne!” Me: … I just want to eat a quiet meal. After a few minutes, the people surrounding me suddenly ran off, screaming towards the entrance. What’s going on? I turned around, oh, it turns out Finn Thorne had arrived. No wonder, damn it, all the people ran away. The people who were just calling themselves my dogs had now run to Finn Thorne, saying the exact same things. Damn it. I angrily bit into my sweet and sour pork. Suddenly, a shadow fell over my head. I looked up to see Finn Thorne standing in front of me with his tray. The corners of his mouth were smiling: “Let’s eat together.” My face reddened a bit, and I muttered “whatever” before lowering my head to continue eating. It’s my fault for being so weak, and it’s his fault for being exactly my favorite type. It makes me blush just looking at him! Losing was already enough to make me angry, why am I so shy in front of him? This isn’t my style at all, damn it! He suddenly reached out with his fork, spearing a piece of fish fillet and putting it in my bowl. “Eat more, I’m worried you’ll get too thin.” ? Could this be a roundabout way of saying I’m fat? Seeing my unfriendly gaze, Finn Thorne noticed and smiled helplessly: “I didn’t mean anything by it.” I glanced at him and lowered my head to continue eating. I took a bite of the fish fillet. Hmm, it’s really delicious. Since our housekeeper, Aunt Six, went back to her hometown to take care of her children, I haven’t eaten such delicious fish fillet. I didn’t expect the cafeteria to have this. “Which window did you buy it from?” I took another bite, “It’s delicious.” Finn Thorne smiled: “I made it.” Huh??? The fish fillet suddenly became difficult to swallow. Now I don’t know whether to eat it or not, I’m stuck. “Go ahead and eat, there’s more.” Finn Thorne looked at me with a smile, adding another piece to my bowl. Alright, this was his initiative. It’s not like I wanted to eat it! Thinking this way, I ate another piece with a clear conscience. By the time I was full and returned to the dorm, the posts about us on the campus network had become unstoppable. “Wuwuwu, I’m dying of sweetness!! Heart-shaped fish fillet!!” They even posted a picture of him feeding me the fish fillet. The comments below were all blessings. “I’m Finn Thorne’s roommate, this fish fillet wasn’t bought, he made it himself and brought it.” “Damn, Mom, I’ve got the real deal!” “Billionaire’s daughter and the young master from a prestigious family, what a heavenly love!” Love? I was a bit confused. To be honest, we’ve been at odds for so long, I don’t understand how it turned into love. After a while, there was suddenly a post tagging me on the campus network. I clicked to see. Finn Thorne was causing trouble again. This was a video shot by a drone, starting with a huge island, with several yachts docked around, and white doves and seagulls flying over the sea. Looking ahead, what came into view was a group of luxury villas. The overall color was white, with long stairs at least two stories high. The villa looked like the White House, big and vast, truly visually stunning. Luxurious, majestic, and extravagant! Finally, he posted a picture showing the ownership of this villa, with the name of the villa written on it. Platinum Manor. One of the top-rated luxury wine estates both domestically and internationally, and also a private residence. The swimming pool is even bigger than the parking lot. At this moment, I admit, I was envious. It’s something I can’t compare to. “Holy sh*t…” “This can’t just be described as rich anymore, can I, a poor student, even look at this?” “I’m in the same dorm as Finn Thorne, if I kill him, can I get a guaranteed spot for a master’s degree?” “You can also get a pair of silver handcuffs for life, with free room and board starting now.” My confidence suffered an unprecedented blow. It turns out, this guy is really rich, even richer than my family. When I was little and saw this villa, I mentioned once that I really liked it. I was mercilessly rejected by my dad because it simply couldn’t be bought. Now the market value, I checked, is about 13 billion dollars. Why can he buy it! Suddenly, I realized a blind spot. He… should be single, right? I really want to give myself a thumbs up for my cleverness! He’s so awesome, he must not have a partner, right? But I do! Sorry, but I’ve been betrothed since birth. Although I’m not very fond of this arranged marriage thing and have completely ignored it, I can also have it when necessary. So I quickly video called my mom. My mom was surprised when she heard I wanted my fiancé’s WeChat: “Didn’t you always resist this?” “Oh, different situations call for different approaches. Quick, give it to me!” I urged, and my mom didn’t say anything, just directly gave me the WeChat contact card. The other person’s avatar was a grass-woven ring on their pinky finger, giving off a unique sense of elegance. The name was “Scar”. Quite non-mainstream. After I added him, the WeChat request was approved almost instantly. The other side sent a question mark. I quickly typed: [Hello, fiancé!] Then I took a screenshot and asked, [My name is Zara Blackwood, what’s your name?] The other side didn’t reply, so I simply posted the screenshot directly on the campus network, with the caption: “After all, I’m not single.” Finn Thorne hadn’t replied yet, but the comments below exploded first. “Ahhhh, my CP just started and it’s already over???” “Who is this fiancé, find him, I’ll beat him up right now, he must give up!” “Wuwu, don’t end my rich family drama!” Little ones. I gleefully scrolled through the comments. Haha, I don’t believe you can outdo me this time! I have a partner and you don’t, this is the reason for being willful! After a while, Finn Thorne finally posted. Before I clicked in, I was still full of confidence. After I clicked in, I was stunned. Because what he posted was a screenshot of my conversation with my arranged marriage partner, different from mine in that it also included my self-introduction below, and it was from the perspective of the arranged marriage guy himself. My hand trembled. It’s not possible… is it? The comment section was also a bit stunned. At the same time, my phone suddenly vibrated. I clicked into WeChat and looked. [Hello, fiancée. My name is Finn Thorne.]

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I woke up in the middle of the night to find that Frederick had posted a new photo on Instagram. In it, a woman was lounging seductively against his leg. After ten years of marriage, he had finally betrayed me! And with the girl I had been supporting, no less. Strangely, I felt… excited. For ten years, I had meticulously planned this moment, orchestrating the ultimate showdown between these two psychopaths. The real show was just beginning! My period cramps were killing me, and I had a fever on top of it. My whole body ached, making it impossible to sleep. “Frederick…” I called out, my forehead burning as I reached for him, hoping he’d bring me some warm water. Then I remembered he had a business dinner tonight. There was medicine in the nightstand. Groggy, I fumbled for a painkiller and swallowed it with water that had long since gone cold. The double dose of pain left me tossing and turning. I opened my phone, trying to distract myself. Frederick had posted a new photo on Instagram. The girl in it looked young and alluring, lounging languidly on his leg. His hand rested in her thick hair, the wedding ring I had personally designed still on his finger. From the looks of it, they’d had quite a bit to drink. Dizzy, I tried to scroll past, but accidentally hit the like button. My heart started racing. Almost instantly, I unliked the post. But within seconds, my phone rang. It was Frederick’s number. It was the girl who spoke, giggling with an unhinged edge to her voice: “Sister, Frederick’s legs are so long and strong. Are you satisfied with what you see?” My throat was dry and hoarse as I managed to say, “Where’s Frederick?” “You liked the post and then unliked it. What does that mean? Not satisfied?” Frederick’s voice came on the line. His tone was dangerous, dark and menacing. I steeled myself, mustering all my focus: “I accidentally hit it. Frederick, it’s eleven o’clock now. If you’re not home by eleven-thirty, don’t bother coming back at all.” I hung up immediately. But cold sweat broke out on my back. For a moment, the tension made me forget about the pain. So the girl could use his phone to talk to me now… She really did have some skills. I wonder if my reaction today will satisfy him?

The big teddy bear by the bed stared at me with its black button eyes, constantly watching my every move. Frederick got home in less than ten minutes. He made me some ginger tea and held me in his arms. “Honey, are you angry?” he asked. I nodded. “Who was that woman?” He’d played this game too many times. I was tired of it, but I still had to play along and act jealous. “Honey, don’t you love me anymore?” I pretended to be hurt, crying in his arms. As expected, it was exactly what he wanted. He held me tighter as I trembled, kissing my forehead. “How could I not? You’re the one I love most. She was just for work…” A chill ran down my spine, and my headache felt like it was about to split my skull open. His so-called “work” was actually hunting. I seemed to see flashes of severed limbs in the basement… Those women were all his “prey,” specifically hunted to make me jealous. Every time, he would post a photo on Instagram first. The girls in the photos would be taken to the basement that same night, tortured for days before being dismembered. He’d keep the parts he liked best, disposing of the rest in various ways. Today’s girl must already be locked in the basement by now. She can’t die. She’s the version of Frederick I’ve spent ten years cultivating.

Ten years ago, shortly after I discovered Frederick wasn’t normal, I spent a long time volunteering at an orphanage. One of the girls there, Skylar, caught my attention. I watched her emotionlessly wring the neck of a fluffy yellow duckling. “Why did you kill it?” I asked. She tossed the duckling into the pool, her face expressionless. “Because someone else touched it.” “My mom used to say, if someone takes something you like, you either break their hands and take it back, or… you destroy it. That way, no one else can have it.” She looked up at me with a smile. Young as she was, there was something wicked in that smile. “I can’t break people’s hands, so I had to destroy it. If I can’t have it, no one can.” In that moment, I knew she was the one I’d been looking for! I sponsored her education, bought her lots of cute dolls and pretty clothes. More often than not, I reinforced her ideas – that it was right to think “if I can’t have it, no one can.” She repaid me with broken dolls and shredded clothes. She would often say with a look of ecstasy, “Sister, I feel so satisfied and happy when I destroy them…” “The more beautiful something is that I can’t have all to myself, the more I want to tear it apart!” I looked at her calmly, but inside I was terrified – This little demon, watered by my influence, was gradually growing into a big demon… I wanted her to obsess over Frederick, to give myself a chance to escape.

I decided to rescue Skylar. The next evening at dinner, I secretly slipped some sleeping pills into Frederick’s orange juice. He drank it without suspicion, only asking, “Honey, are you feeling better?” I nodded, saying in a hoarse voice, “The fever’s gone down. I’m much better. Honey, no more business dinners from now on.” His face lit up with joy. He smiled as he cut up the still-bloody steak for me and pushed it over. “Honey, eat up.” I fought back the nausea rising in my throat and forked a piece from the edge into my mouth. “Ugh-” Frederick quickly came over to pat my back. “Honey, are you pregnant?!” he asked, incredibly excited. I shook my head, my voice raspy. “Just a reaction from being sick.” The light in his eyes instantly dimmed. He gave me an odd look. “We’ve been married for ten years. When are we going to have a child?” But then he brightened again. “No children is better. That way no one can steal my wife’s love…” After dinner, Frederick took a shower and went to bed early. I quietly opened the safe, took out the basement key, and snuck out of the bedroom. The basement was empty and eerie. The strong smell of formaldehyde mixed with the scent of blood made my head spin even more. A row of terrifying instruments and glass jars lined the walls. The jars contained Frederick’s “collection.” I didn’t dare turn on the lights for fear Frederick would discover me, so I searched using my phone’s flashlight. “Skylar?” I called out in a very low voice. There was a tall figure ahead that looked like someone chained to a cross. I hurried over. The person had long hair hanging down, head bowed, looking lifeless. As I got closer, the smell of decay grew stronger. My heart sank. It couldn’t be… He usually played with them for several days before killing them… “Skylar?” I lightly tapped her shoulder – The head tilted and suddenly rolled to the ground! I let out a startled cry, my phone clattering to the floor. The sound echoed jarringly in the empty room. “Honey?” Frederick’s voice came from outside. Oh no! He’d discovered me! I scrambled to pick up my phone, turned off the flashlight, and dove into a nearby large box. Sweat had already beaded on my forehead. “Honey?” The lights came on. Through a crack in the box, I could see his pants and fuzzy slippers moving this way. “Huh?” He bent down, puzzled. His head came close to the box. With his figure backlit, I could only see a cold glint off his glasses through the crack. I held my breath, not daring to move. Out of nervousness, I instinctively grabbed whatever I could reach beside me. It was sticky, cold, and stiff, wrapped in a leathery texture. It felt like… a hand?! I quickly let go. Frederick stepped back and picked up the fallen head. His long, slender fingers were pale and elegant. Strangely, the wedding ring he never took off was missing. He muttered to himself, “Has it been too long? Or was it rats? How did it just fall off?” My back was already soaked with sweat, clinging to my skin. I shivered. The slippers lingered in front of the box for a while before walking away. With a click, the lights went out. I slumped back, gasping like a fish out of water… “Hee hee-” A woman’s sudden laugh rang out inside the box!

In this enclosed, cramped space, the laughter was so crisp yet so eerie. My hair stood on end in fright. The lights came on again, and the shuffling of slippers grew closer – Something pressed against my face! My teeth chattered uncontrollably, my lips already numb. It was… that sticky, cold hand. “Sister, you and I are truly kindred spirits!” A soft female voice sounded in my ear. As she finished speaking, the lid of the box was lifted. Skylar stood up, climbed out of the box, and stood beside Frederick. “Sister, the hunt has begun.” In that moment, I felt ice-cold all over. I was so stupid. I thought that if I nurtured her from childhood with the idea that “if you can’t have something, destroy it,” she would eventually target Frederick and destroy him. I never expected one misstep would ruin everything. Compared to destroying Frederick, destroying his “owner” was clearly easier. I was tied up by the two of them, face to face with the decapitated female corpse. Frederick’s technique was practiced and skilled. His silver-rimmed glasses gleamed coldly. He looked so unfamiliar now, nothing like the Frederick who had made me ginger tea and rubbed my stomach earlier. “How do you want to play?” A Swiss Army knife twirled in Skylar’s hand. Frederick glanced at me coldly, his icy fingertips gripping my chin, his thumb caressing the corner of my lips. “No rush. I’ve waited all these years. This time, I’m going to take it slow and really enjoy myself!” “Right, honey?” The slightly upturned tone of his voice held absolute confidence and condescension. “Honey, don’t you love me anymore?” I tried to buy time, making myself look pitiful with tears in my eyes. “The ring I designed for you – you said you’d never take it off, even in death.” A flicker of confusion passed almost imperceptibly through his eyes. He let out a cold snort. “Skylar, watch her.” I watched him turn and stride away. His tall, straight back, the slim waist beneath his robe, his long legs, and that pale, ascetic face – all had once been the downfall of so many women. “He really is handsome, isn’t he?” The Swiss Army knife tapped my face. “Such a handsome man – if I didn’t make him mine, I’d be letting down all these years of your teachings.” “Just wait and see how he submits to me.” Her eyes flashed with the excitement of a predator eyeing its prey, her lips curled in an evil grin. Suddenly, she thrust the knife at me with all her might! The blade barely grazed my neck, changing direction to stab at my arm. The fabric tore as the knife tip embedded in the wooden frame. “You came to save me earlier, didn’t you?” She smiled at the cut she’d made on my arm, licking her lips.

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2:00 a.m. I found my sister, Sarah, in the basement of our house, even though she was supposed to be with her husband, Brian, in London. She was wearing a red satin slip dress, her body bruised and bound in chains, with red-stained bandages wrapped tightly around her legs. Seeing me, Sarah looked desperate and mouthed, “Watch out for Mom and Dad!” I wanted to ask her what happened, but footsteps echoed above us. Someone was moving around upstairs. I didn’t know what it meant, but my instincts told me to hide, fast. I slipped into an old cabinet just as someone descended the stairs. Peeking through the crack, I saw Dad, Charles. He was holding a plate piled high with yesterday’s leftovers—food that looked as unappetizing as it did cold. The second Sarah saw him, she began shaking with fear. Dad grabbed her chin with his thumb crease and forced her mouth open, shoving spoonfuls of the food inside. She gagged, her face twisting in pain until she vomited. He just stood there, watching in silence, then began force-feeding her again, waiting until she finished every last bite before he gave her a smug smile. Then he set the plate aside and reached into his pocket, pulling out a paring knife. Loosening the red-stained bandages around her legs, he revealed a sight that made my stomach drop—her once-smooth legs were now swollen, bruised, and some areas were oozing. Dad pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose. If I remembered correctly, those glasses were Sarah’s graduation gift to him. I knew exactly what he was about to do before he even started. Holding that knife, the one I’d used to slice apples, he began cutting into her legs, slicing away chunks of flesh. The metallic smell of blood and rotting flesh filled the room. I clenched my lips tightly, desperate to keep silent. Dad’s gaze suddenly snapped toward my hiding place. I stilled, heart hammering, until his eyes finally drifted away. He gathered up the meat he’d just sliced and left. When the room fell silent, I shakily climbed out of the cabinet. My legs felt like jelly, barely holding me up. I crawled to my sister’s side, horrified by the state she was in. Her legs were wrapped in fresh bandages, but they’d already soaked through with blood. How could Dad do this? To his own daughter? Sarah and I had never shared the same father. My mom married Charles when I was little. Sarah had always been the perfect daughter. She never liked my mom initially but gradually grew warmer to her, so I thought we were all moving toward something good. But now, Sarah was whispering that my mother had killed her own mother. That both of our mothers were murderers. She warned me to stay away from them. I don’t remember making it back to my room. Lying there, I told myself, over and over, that it was only a dream—that Sarah and Brian were still in London.

In the morning, I came downstairs to find Mom busy in the kitchen. Dad sat at the table, reading the paper, his face calm and content as sunlight filtered through the window. I slid into the seat across from him, eyeing the big breakfast spread. Finally, I asked, “Dad… where’s Sarah?” He frowned, reaching over to feel my forehead. His face softened with an odd, almost amused expression. “Are you feeling alright, sweetheart? Sarah and Brian moved to London two years ago. You remember—you cried when they left.” Yes. That was right. I remembered watching them board the plane. Was it really just a nightmare? Mom came in, setting down a bowl of steaming beef broth, spooning a generous portion into my bowl. She told me to eat it all up. The smell was savory, but as I stared at it, the nausea crept in. Mom noticed my hesitation. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?” “No, I like it. Thanks, Mom,” I mumbled, stirring the broth slowly, lifting a slice of meat from the bowl. The memory of my dream hit me, and I couldn’t hold back anymore. I leaned over and threw up. Mom rushed over, patting my back, alarmed. “Honey, do you need to go to the hospital?” Everything seemed normal, but something felt terribly wrong. Mom never used to be this doting. My mind went back to Sarah in the cellar. I glanced at Dad, horrified. “What’s gotten into you this morning?” he asked, looking mildly amused. No. This wasn’t like him at all. My dad had never cared much for me before, never even looked in my direction. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something sinister was hidden beneath this facade. If what I saw was real, then the man I called Dad had locked his daughter in the cellar, cut pieces of her flesh, and served it to me as beef broth. I couldn’t handle it. Gripping my thumb crease under the table, I forced myself to calm down. After a deep breath, I said, “I didn’t sleep well. I’m going back upstairs to rest.”

I reached the stairway corner, just out of sight of the living room, before dashing to the cellar. But when I reached it, there was nothing—just the same old cluttered furniture. The bed Sarah had been lying on was empty, occupied only by a teddy bear, her gift to me on my eighteenth birthday. There was no sign of Sarah. No red-stained bandages. It must have been a dream. I leaned against the wardrobe, breathing heavily. But something didn’t add up. It felt too real. Then, in the corner of the cabinet, I spotted a small button—one from my pajamas. I really had hidden in there last night. “Lily, what are you doing down here?” I whipped around. Dad was behind me, his gaze sharp and scrutinizing, his gold-rimmed glasses reflecting the dim light. Swallowing down my panic, I clutched the teddy bear and stammered, “I…I missed Sarah and wanted to find the teddy bear she gave me.” It was the best excuse I could come up with. Dad’s expression was cold and calculating, like a snake watching its prey. He looked at me for a long moment, then said, “Take what you need and leave. There’s no reason to be down here.” I forced a smile, hugging the bear as I walked out, making a show of mumbling, “She could’ve at least called after all this time.” Dad trailed behind me at a steady distance. I could almost feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. “She just got there, Lily,” he said in an even tone. “She’s busy. Don’t bother her with calls.” Why hadn’t I thought to call her? I went back to my room, pulled out my phone, and dialed her number. “Sorry, your account is suspended due to lack of payment.” What? She’d filled my account with credit before she left. Confused and scared, I checked the Wi-Fi and saw it was disabled, and my phone had no signal. I was trapped—no way to call for help, no way to reach Brian.

Ever since that morning, I felt more and more drained each day, my energy sapped. And every day, Mom brought me another bowl of beef broth. Each time I looked at the meat in the broth, I thought of Sarah, and the nausea returned. I couldn’t drink it. But for reasons I couldn’t explain, I found myself lifting the spoon. Mom’s voice coaxed me to drink, and I did, helpless to resist. Once I finished, Mom seemed pleased. She set down the bowl and helped me to the cellar. There was Sarah again, lying on the bed, more of her body wrapped in red-stained bandages. Mom placed a stool near the bed and sat me down. Slowly, she unwrapped the bandages, revealing new gashes where her flesh had been cut. She muttered, “My sweet girl doesn’t like beef broth, so let’s make some sliced cold cut.” She took out a knife and, with a chilling calm, said, “A friend gave Dad this fish just a few days ago—so tender, so fresh.” Then she sliced into Sarah’s flesh as Sarah’s wide, terrified eyes looked on. “Sweetheart, here’s your favorite—sliced cold cut.” I stared in horror as she brought the bloody meat toward my mouth, forcing me to chew, to swallow. Sarah looked back at me, her eyes filled with disbelief, anger, and finally, despair. Inside, I screamed, No, I can’t do this! This is my sister! But no one heard me.

“No!” I shot up in bed, drenched in sweat. A calm, gentle voice brought me back. “Did you have a nightmare, dear?” I looked up. It was Dr. Alice Morgan, her face compassionate and kind. I took in my surroundings, realizing I was in a hospital room. Dr. Morgan explained, “You had a fever and were unconscious for days. Your mom’s been here the whole time. They just stepped out for a meal.” But the memory of that night clung to me, so vivid I couldn’t let it go. Still uneasy, I borrowed her phone to call Sarah’s number. This time, the call went through. But all I heard was the muffled noise of a crowded room. No voice replied, no matter how many times I shouted. Dr. Morgan smiled, interpreting my confusion. “Sounds like they’re somewhere noisy—a karaoke bar, maybe, or a downtown pub. It’d be hard for anyone to hear you over that.” I glanced away, feeling foolish. I had never set foot in a bar or a karaoke place, so I had no idea what it was like. “Why…why can’t I hear her voice at all?” Dr. Morgan chuckled gently. “The noise on her end is probably drowning you out. She’s likely having a good time and can’t hear her phone at all.” I wanted to press further, but at that moment, Mom returned. She entered quietly, her gaze soft but unreadable, and settled in the chair beside my bed. She brought a thermos with her, the kind she always carried, and set it down. Opening it, she said with a kind smile, “I know how much you like your sliced cold cuts, but since you’re not well, let’s stick with some beef broth for now, alright?” My stomach twisted as I watched the steam rise from the bowl of beef broth she handed me. The presentation was pleasant, the aroma rich and inviting, but I hesitated, feeling unease bubble up inside me. Mom noticed and said, “Sweetie, what’s the matter? You want me to feed you? You’re old enough to eat on your own—you’ll have to do that when you’re married, after all.” I barely registered her words. I focused instead on the bowl inching closer to my mouth. My panic flared, and before I realized it, I’d shoved the bowl away, spilling the hot broth all over her hand. She flinched but remained calm, the red marks on her hand showing through. I quickly grabbed some tissues and started wiping her hand, my voice rushing with apologies. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to. I…I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Mom gave me a small smile, patting my hand reassuringly. “It’s alright, honey. No harm done. I just didn’t hold it tight enough.” But as she gathered herself, her soothing words somehow felt hollow. Another nightmare?

Lately, the nightmares had become almost constant. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something horrible was following me, threatening me. I decided I had to do something drastic—I needed to find a way to protect myself. I told Mom and Dad that I was going up Red Ridge to pray at the Mountain Chapel. They surprised me by offering to come along, saying they wanted to support me. I’d never had so much attention from both of them, and though I was nervous, a part of me felt warm, like maybe everything would be alright. We set out that afternoon, and by the time we neared the chapel, the sun had already dipped below the horizon. The shadows lengthened, and the chill in the air grew. As we neared a cliffside path, I spotted an old man sitting by the edge, wearing a ragged fisherman’s hat and holding a fishing pole as if he were casting into the sky itself. Trying to lighten the mood, I nudged Dad and joked, “Look at that old man, fishing right off a cliff!” Dad looked in the direction I was pointing, his brow creasing. “What old man? There’s nothing there but rocks.” I blinked. Rocks? But I could clearly see the man, still there on the cliff’s edge, turning his head slowly until it felt like his gaze met mine.

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Jack’s childhood friend turned into a social media influencer while I was away. She snuck into my room when I wasn’t home, guessed my computer password, and copied all my paid novels onto her phone. Then she posted them online for free. Overnight, she gained tens of thousands of followers. The next day, when I confronted her, she smirked and said, “What’s wrong, old lady? Jealous that I’m making money now?” Jack walked in just as Lily and I were in the middle of a heated argument. Well, to be more accurate, Lily was the one doing all the yelling. I realized she was like a madwoman from an asylum – completely impossible to reason with. “If you can write stories as a side gig, why can’t I promote them?” she sneered. “What’s wrong, old lady? Jealous that I’m making money now?” My initial anger at her accusations gradually turned to stunned silence as I listened to her increasingly unhinged ranting. Lily used to be Jack’s neighbor and in his words, was just an innocent, lively young girl. After graduating, she moved to our city for work. Being new and unfamiliar with the place, she had come to stay with him. My newly purchased apartment had two bedrooms. Jack suggested letting Lily stay temporarily until her internship ended in a few months. “Lena, it’ll be three months max. Just think of it as doing me a favor,” he pleaded. At first, I refused. After all, who wants to live with a stranger? But then I reconsidered. When I first moved here, I had no one and went through many hardships. If I could help someone else out, why not? It was only for three months after all. I didn’t even charge her rent. Little did I know I was inviting a wolf into my home. One time Lily’s laptop broke down when she urgently needed to revise a proposal. She was in tears, so I softened and lent her my computer. Afterwards, I forgot to change the password. Who knew that would plant the seeds of disaster? Seeing Jack arrive, Lily immediately transformed into a sweet, demure girl – a complete 180 from her nasty attitude just moments ago. She lowered her slightly damp lashes, sniffled, and said softly, “Jack, there are so many novel promotion accounts online. Why is Lena picking on me specifically? Doesn’t she want people to promote her work?” Jack was silent for a moment, his brow furrowed. “Normally, social media influencers don’t post an author’s entire work. That’s quite…” He paused, searching for the right word. “…disrespectful.” Hah. I laughed bitterly. So unethical behavior is just “disrespectful” now? Hearing this, Lily hung her head and mumbled, “Okay, I was wrong then.” She took a deep breath and when she looked up again, she was back to her innocent, carefree persona. With a bright smile, she chirped, “Let’s go get dinner! My treat, as an apology to Lena.” Apology? Who does she think she’s fooling? I sat on the couch and smiled at her. “Lily, first you need to delete all the videos. Then return the money you earned from the views to me. Finally, post a public apology statement.” “That would be a real apology.” Lily stared at me in disbelief, her voice suddenly rising. “Lena, you’re going too far!” Going too far? How ridiculous. I pulled up the videos from my phone gallery and handed it to her expressionlessly. Instantly, Lily’s face froze. Jack, not knowing what was happening, curiously leaned over to look. Soon his brows furrowed, a deeply disappointed expression on his face as he glanced at Lily, seemingly at a loss for words. The videos showed all of Lily’s misdeeds in my room when I was away. Not only did she steal my manuscripts, she also wore my clothes, used my skincare products, spat on my bedsheets and pillowcases, and even took my jewelry. At first when I noticed things amiss, I had suspected Lily but had no proof. Who knew that just three days after installing hidden cameras, I’d capture so much incriminating footage? Lily’s face turned beet red with shame. She looked at Jack with teary eyes, shaking her head. “I… I didn’t…” But she couldn’t come up with any excuses. In a fit of rage, she deleted the video and tossed the phone onto the couch, glaring at me defiantly. I savored Lily’s smug expression with amusement, speaking slowly. “No worries, I have plenty of backup copies. Lily, if you don’t meet my demands, I’ll have no choice but to hand this over to the police. After all, there’s clear evidence of theft.” I paused, then added, “That Cartier necklace wasn’t worth much, but is it really worth getting a criminal record over?” Lily was utterly humiliated and furious. Biting her lip, she had no choice but to delete the videos, return the money she’d earned, and post an apology statement under my increasingly impatient gaze. As for the Cartier necklace, Lily claimed she had already sold it on eBay for $50. …Well, no matter. She can just compensate me for the full price then.

When Lily moved out, she sneered that I was obsessed with money. I lazily raised an eyebrow, replying nonchalantly, “Still better than being brainless like you.” She glared at me fiercely, at a loss for words. Not long after, Lily posted on Instagram. The photo showed her on a balcony at dusk, gazing into the distance. Her delicate profile was bathed in the fading light, hair gently blowing in the breeze. It had a tranquil, poetic quality. The caption read: “Grateful for the shelter. Looking forward to what’s ahead.” I knew that balcony all too well – it was at Jack’s place. An indescribable chill ran through me. It was nauseating. If that’s how it was going to be, why bother dumping this idiot on me in the first place? Utterly ridiculous! I coldly texted Jack asking what the hell was going on. Moments later, Jack called. He sounded flustered. “Lena, Lily had to move out so suddenly and couldn’t find a place. I couldn’t just let her end up on the streets.” It sounded like he was blaming me for kicking her out. I asked, “Are there no hotels?” Jack sighed softly. “It’s not safe for a young woman to stay at a hotel alone. Lena, Lily’s young and naive. She knows she was wrong. Just let it go, okay?” I was speechless. One loved stealing, the other loved twisting words. These two really did have a future together. “Jack, Lily may be five years younger than me, but even five years ago I would never have done what she did. And I certainly wouldn’t be living with someone else’s boyfriend.” I paused, then said, “Let’s break up.” There was silence on the other end. I lost patience and hung up. Actually, I’d been planning to end this relationship for a while now. Lily had paid me back $3000 in total. I knew full well who had really given her that money. But I didn’t care anymore. Whatever, money in my pocket was what mattered most. Good riddance to trashy men. Jack and I had been introduced by our parents. His dad and my dad were classmates. At a reunion, they discovered their kids were working in the same city and both single, so they exchanged our contact info. Jack and I got to know each other for a while before becoming a couple. He gave me the impression of a jade stone sealed in a box – plain and dull, occasionally glimmering. But after this incident, I saw clearly that the so-called “jade” was nothing but shards from a shattered beer bottle – ugly and stained. I know no one’s perfect. So I could accept Jack’s weak personality and indecisiveness. But I couldn’t accept how he completely stood by when I was being bullied. Even with evidence right in front of him, he didn’t say a single word in my defense. And I definitely couldn’t accept that deep down, he favored another woman. Call it stupidity or favoritism, I didn’t want to entrust myself to a man like that. After we broke up, Jack called me many times and sent lots of long messages. Just looking at them made my eyes hurt. I never responded and blocked him directly. One night I got a call from an unknown number. The person on the other end seemed drunk, slurring, “Lena, did you… hic… did you find some rich guy?” I was stunned for a moment, then laughed mockingly. “No, I just don’t like men who are too short. In any sense of the word.” Jack choked, then angrily hung up. He knew full well why we broke up, but admitting fault was too difficult. Shifting blame was so much easier. Recently I took on a new project at work. Our whole team was working around the clock, practically day and night. It wasn’t until half a month later that we finally wrapped things up. I stretched lazily in the office, feeling immensely relieved. Thinking of the year-end bonus made me break into a smile. Suddenly my phone buzzed. It was a photo from my friend Samantha. In an upscale restaurant, Jack and Lily were acting intimately, gazing at each other with eyes full of endless affection. “Lena, you were right to break up! That scumbag moved on without missing a beat! It’s so gross I can’t even eat!” To be honest, I felt completely calm. It was like watching random strangers on the street – not a ripple of emotion. I replied: “Whatever. You can’t hold onto someone who wants to leave. And those who stay won’t go anywhere.” I strolled down the street. The night wind surged fiercely yet tenderly, blowing away the last warmth of late summer. It also bid farewell to a relationship that was never meant to be mine. At least, that’s what I thought.

The project was completed beautifully. Our boss, understanding how hard the team had worked, gave us a few extra days off after we finished wrapping things up. I had been so exhausted that I was sound asleep at home when I was suddenly woken by loud knocking. I opened the door to find Jack. His eyes were rimmed with red, his expression dazed. He reeked of alcohol. Leaning against the doorframe, he looked down at me and smiled. “Lena, long time no see.” I eyed him warily. “What are you doing here?” But Jack didn’t answer. He tried to come inside, but he was so drunk he could barely stand. I kicked him out without hesitation. I slammed the door shut. Outside, Jack’s voice came through like a dog barking. He kept yelling for me to open the door, to see him, to give him another chance to start over. Drunk words, sober thoughts. A man who seemed so honest and steady on the surface was actually a fickle playboy at heart. I couldn’t help but feel grateful I’d gotten out of that mess in time. It was 11:30 PM. The neighbors were all asleep. Jack’s hoarse voice echoed in the hallway like an curse, shattering the night’s peace. I warned him, “If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police!” There was a moment of silence outside, then his dismissive voice: “Hah, I don’t believe you.” Fifteen minutes later, the police arrived. … When Lily came to pick Jack up, he was already half sober, hanging his head in silence. Lily glared at me with disgust. “Lena, are you some kind of ghost or succubus? Why are you still trying to seduce other people’s boyfriends?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “If your boyfriend hadn’t shown up drunk in the middle of the night begging me to take him back, forcing me to call the police, why would you be here picking him up from the station?” “You…!” Lily bit her lip hard, shooting a disappointed look at Jack before turning her anger back to me. “Keep dreaming! He just came to settle accounts after you scammed him out of so much money!” I froze. The police officer frowned. “Scammed?” Lily snatched Jack’s phone and pulled up records of all the money he’d spent on me over the past six months. Gifts for various holidays, meals he paid for, travel tickets, hotel bookings… all sorts of odds and ends. “Lena, since you’ve already broken up with Jack, shouldn’t you return everything you owe? Don’t take advantage of my boyfriend!” The police officer’s expression was hard to read. He glanced at me, his eyes conveying either sympathy for my situation or relief that I’d gotten out of it. I smiled bitterly and shook my head, immediately pulling up my own records of purchases – men’s belts, watches, wallets and more that I’d bought from high-end stores. “You’re right, we should settle accounts.” Just a quick comparison of the prices made it clear who owed who, without even needing a calculator. Lily was furious, especially when she realized the suit jacket and shoes Jack was wearing were ones I’d bought. Her face turned an ugly shade of purple. She took a breath, then sneered, “So you were the one throwing yourself at him.” Jack, that rotten piece of wood, finally spoke up. Looking at me, he nodded. “That’s right, she was.” I didn’t want to waste energy arguing. I also didn’t want to get involved in this mess anymore. I accepted the officer’s mediation, but before leaving, I asked for a copy of the police report. As I came out, the streetlights on both sides had gone dark. The night curtain was being pulled back, revealing the faint white of dawn. Lily had thrown Jack’s shoes and jacket in the trash. He stood by the road waiting for a ride in his socks and shirt, shivering from the cold. As I passed by them, I overheard Lily making a few sarcastic remarks, all aimed at me. Even though it was clearly the man who had shown up uninvited, she blamed me instead. I wasn’t sure if she was deluding herself or just blind to the situation. As for Jack, he neither refuted nor agreed, remaining silent with a complex expression. I quickly got in my car and left. Even looking at them for another second made me feel sick to my stomach. Besides the childhood bond, what Jack liked most about Lily was feeling adored and depended on. It gave him a sense of superiority he never got from me.

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As I was about to go to bed, I habitually unzipped Jack’s pants, only to catch a faint whiff of cigarette smoke. He rarely smoked, except for the occasional post-coital cigarette after we made love. We hadn’t seen each other for two months due to business trips. When I tried to wrap my arms around his neck for a kiss, he pushed me away listlessly: “My back hurts. Not tonight. Let’s just sleep.” Looking at the man snoring beside me, I frowned. My instincts told me that Jack was having an affair, and the girl was young enough to drain all his energy. My name is Rachel Lewis, I’m 28 years old, and my husband Jack is 12 years older than me, having just turned 40 this year. Due to our age difference, I called him “honey,” and he often said that having a young wife like me made him look good when we went out together. I would just smile it off. When we first met, I was an outstanding college intern at the International Jewelry Exhibition, while he was already a suave small business owner. Attracted by his successful and elegant demeanor, we fell in love almost at first sight. Now, five years into our marriage, I’m a “daddy’s girl” with a son, financially well-off, and seemingly happy. At 40, time had turned him into a paunchy middle-aged man with deep nasolabial folds. After giving birth, despite the care of high-end beauty salons and wellness centers, the stretch marks on my body were hard to eliminate, and I was no longer as youthful as before. “This is how marriage is. After the passion fades, it slowly transitions into a familial relationship,” I comforted myself, gradually shifting my focus to taking care of our son and my career. Jack still treated me the same as always, never forgetting to send gifts for Valentine’s Day, anniversaries, and birthdays. On our wedding anniversary, he had the housekeeper deliver a Cartier diamond rose gold necklace, claiming it was a limited edition. “Only two were available in the city, and I pre-ordered one for you,” he said, hugging me from behind and kissing my cheek, his stubble tickling my neck. Jack chuckled softly, feeling aroused, and promptly pinned me down on the office desk. I pushed him away, blushing, “What are you doing? We’re in the office…” He nibbled on my earlobe, unusually eager, like a young man again, “Then let’s go to the room.” After years of marriage, Jack rarely showed such urgency. My office had a small resting area where I would occasionally take short naps when tired. He picked me up and carried me behind the curtain, while the entire company outside remained oblivious to the intimate scene unfolding in the small alcove. Jack’s technique was skillful. Suddenly, he leaned close and whispered in my ear: “Rachel, I…” After he said something, my face immediately turned bright red. Due to work requirements, I often wore black stockings, but Jack had never shown any particular interest in them before. That day, he was exceptionally passionate, almost to the point where the employees downstairs could hear us. If he hadn’t been stimulated by something, Jack, being over forty, shouldn’t have been so fired up. I vaguely remembered him taking a pill midway through. When I asked what it was, he said it was a painkiller. Jack had a herniated disc, and he would take painkillers whenever it flared up. But after that time, I found a thin aluminum pill wrapper on the floor. I clearly saw the words “Viagra” printed on it. The purpose of this drug was self-evident. But why did he carry Viagra with him? And why did he lie to me? This incident planted a seed of doubt in my mind. Two months later, the jewelry exhibition co-hosted by our company was about to open. As a member of the organizing committee, I was swamped with work, while Jack had disappeared without a trace. When I called him, he made excuses about entertaining clients. Finally, I managed to get his location and went to the hotel where he was staying in the neighboring city. “Honey!” I hugged his neck, pretending to be overjoyed, and pulled him into the room. “Mm, I missed you,” Jack said, his demeanor unchanged, though I clearly noticed his fatigue. He lowered his head and touched my necklace. That limited edition Cartier necklace he had given me. “Honey, only when you wear it do I think it’s the most beautiful,” he smiled sincerely. As I was about to go to bed, I habitually unzipped Jack’s pants, only to catch a faint whiff of cigarette smoke. He rarely smoked, except for the occasional post-coital cigarette after we made love. We hadn’t seen each other for two months due to business trips. When I tried to wrap my arms around his neck for a kiss, he pushed me away listlessly: “My back hurts. Not tonight. Let’s just sleep.” Looking at the man snoring beside me, I frowned. My instincts told me that Jack was having an affair, and the girl was young enough to drain all his energy. Taking advantage of his deep sleep, I secretly picked up his phone. Although Jack was a small business owner, he was somewhat out of touch with the times, using an old-fashioned BlackBerry phone. He conducted business negotiations through his male assistant, who would then use a smartphone to guide him in communicating with others. I closed his phone, expressionless. The keypad phone was clean, with no messages or call records. It seemed I would have to work on his trusted assistant to get information. The next day, I borrowed the assistant’s phone under the pretext of checking some design plans. He was very cautious, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lewis, but Mr. Lewis instructed that due to business confidentiality, only he can look at his own phone.” I smiled lightly, crossing my arms: “Business confidentiality? I’m the boss’s wife, what secrets could there be between us? I just want to look at a file.” The assistant pursed his lips, still unwilling to give me the phone. I frowned and casually said: “Then I’ll call Jack now. I’ll have him fire you right away for being such a disrespectful assistant to his wife.” The assistant finally handed me the phone reluctantly, and I did indeed only look at work-related emails in front of him. After about ten minutes, I nodded calmly and returned the phone to him. As I left the assistant’s office, my palm held a small USB drive. Just moments ago, while looking at the files, I had discreetly plugged it into the phone and copied all the information, covering it with my hand. Back home, I immediately opened my computer to check the records. I found that the chat records on the messaging app were all normal. So why was his assistant being so secretive? I didn’t believe it, so I casually clicked to switch accounts. Sure enough. The assistant had even opened a separate account for Jack, with the ID “Can’t escape your eyes in this flowery world.” Very fitting for a sleazy middle-aged man. He had a group chat called “The King no longer holds morning court,” which was full of lewd conversations with his unsavory friends. Jack’s last message in the group was: “These young ones, they really drain my Viagra supply. My old back can’t take it anymore.” In the gallery, I also found dozens of scandalous screenshots. They were one-sided screenshots Jack had taken of video chats with a friend using a Hello Kitty avatar: In the small window in the upper right corner was Jack’s greasy, wrinkled old face, while below was a dimpled young girl with a flawless body. I gripped the mouse tightly, etching the girl’s face into my memory, and scrolled through their chat history: “Daddy, you’re so amazing. An old war horse still eager for battle (rose)(smile)” “Haha, your little waist is still the best. My herniated disc can’t handle it…” Things hadn’t deviated from my suspicions. My face darkened, and I scrolled faster and faster. Heh, interesting. A college student working part-time? Currently interning at our company, doing menial tasks like serving tea and water. She kept saying it was “compensated dating” with Jack, providing him with emotional comfort while he gave her some financial support. I never thought this “support” would end up in bed. Among the new summer interns at our company, I looked through the HR files and my gaze stopped on a familiar ID photo. That delicate face matched perfectly with the girl Jack was chatting with in the screenshots. I narrowed my eyes, locking onto a name next to that photo: Bella Baker.

When I first met Jack, he was in his early thirties, an elegant and scholarly elite. Now, I thought he should have completely lost his appeal to young girls, but unexpectedly, he still attracted trouble. Jack, who was starting to gray and show signs of balding, with a slight beer belly, was the type who exuded sleaziness with every belch. What did this girl see in him? Was she attracted to his age and poor hygiene, or his three-bedroom apartment? I sneered sarcastically and continued to compare the chat records with the HR files. Bella Baker came from a poor family background and claimed to be working her way through school. She appeared to be a frail and introverted country girl, but her ambition was sky-high, dreaming of marrying into wealth and living a life of luxury. They had been intimate for about two months, which meant he had just gotten a taste two months ago. No wonder he was so vigorous that time in the office. He was clearly stimulated by his new conquest. In their chats, she often hinted at the topic of divorce. Bella Baker said naively: “Daddy, I’m willing to give you three more children. We can name them ‘Do Re Mi’, just like musical notes.” She’s really a fake innocent romantic little green tea bitch. And Jack actually responded with the most classic “sober scumbag” lines: “I have a wife, what children are you talking about giving me?” “What we’re doing now is called an affair, not love. Bella, you need to be clear about that…” The young girl still persisted, bringing it up at every opportunity. I couldn’t help but laugh coldly. Playing mind games with me, a seasoned professional, her wall-digging tactics were quite amateurish. Meanwhile, Jack kept evading and brushing her off. I knew that Jack didn’t dare mention divorce to me, and he was just playing around with her. Business circle relationships are like this. The company’s largest shareholding belonged to Jack and me, and we had invested all our efforts into it. It was a delicate balance. He couldn’t leave me, but he had violated my emotional bottom line – infidelity. My eyes noticeably darkened. I never thought that one day I would have to use the strategies I used against competitors in the workplace on my own husband. Since you betrayed me first, don’t blame me for being merciless. … The jewelry exhibition was proceeding as scheduled. I managed it discreetly while secretly observing this pair of cheaters. Jack had a new red Hello Kitty lighter among his personal items.

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After the business marriage, I found myself with a 4-and-a-half-year-old son. Before meeting him, I had resigned myself to a life of indifference—foreseeing a future where my husband would remain cold and distant, and my stepson would ignore me, painting a picture of a “tragic” existence. But the moment I saw that little cutie, his small hand tugging at my clothes and his tentative voice calling me “Mom,” I was utterly undone. In that instant, my hardened resolve crumbled. I turned to my husband, eyes filled with a desperate plea. “After the divorce,” I asked softly, “can I keep the child?” When the company ran into trouble, my father didn’t hesitate to arrange a business marriage for me with a wealthy man who already had a son. I was more than satisfied with this arrangement.. After all, as a devoted singleton, the prospect of avoiding the burdens of motherhood was a blessing. The man was a workaholic CEO, leaving little room for personal involvement, and his son was primarily cared for by a nanny. I figured I could just lay back and relax since my husband is a CEO—I wouldn’t even have to raise the kid. The wedding was a subdued affair, marked by its simplicity and the scant number of guests. As anticipated, the child was nowhere to be seen. The moment the ceremony concluded, my new husband, ever the workaholic, dashed off to his office. He left behind a brief, detached message: “The company is swamped. I won’t be home for a few days.” “Steven is already at home. You should get to know him better when you return.” Steven Zach, that’s the name of my stepson. With my parents divorced and my relationship with my father distant and strained, I left behind almost everything from the house. I took only a pendant necklace—a small, sentimental relic—before stepping into the unknown.

“Mrs. Zach, the young master is waiting for you in the living room.” Miss Flint greeted me cheerfully as soon as I entered. I couldn’t help but bristle at the thinly veiled challenge. So, he’s setting the stage for dominance right from the start? I mused with a steely resolve. Whatever trials awaited, I steeled myself to face them head-on. After all, how daunting could a child possibly be? But… Who is this adorable little cherub sitting on the sofa? So tiny! So precious! So endearing! Lost in a daze of wonder, I watched as the baby wobbled towards me. With a voice as soft as a whisper, he said, “Auntie Clara… this is… a gift from Steven… for Auntie.” He extended a pink teddy bear towards me, its softness almost overwhelming in its contrast to his tiny form. Despite being larger than him, he clutched it with all his might, determined to give it to me. “Wow! Thank you, sweetie! I love it! Your name is Steven, right? I’m your mom now, so you can call me ‘Mom,’ okay? After all, we’re a family now.” Wow! He’s absolutely irresistible—so precious, so heartwarming! I felt an overwhelming urge to scoop him up and envelop him in a hug. This charming child, who radiated pure sweetness, was clearly neglected by my inattentive husband. The injustice of it all struck me deeply. This little one, my stepson, had been left to navigate a rough world without the care he deserved. In that moment, I made a silent vow: from now on, he would be my son, cherished and protected under my watchful care. Little Steven seemed surprised by my words. His thin little body trembled, his fair little face turned red, and he nervously tugged at his shirt, carefully saying, “M-Mom?” After saying that, he shyly lowered his head, stealing glances at me. Oh my goodness! Forget the father—this precious child is mine to care for! I cleared my throat and seriously nodded. Then I turned to Miss Flint, who had been standing by, and said, “I’ll take care of the child, you can go about your business.” “Yes, Mrs. Zach.” The feeling was nothing short of exhilarating! I suppressed my bubbling joy as I scooped up the little cutie in my arms, the weight of his tiny form a comforting burden. Clutching him securely with one hand, I held the pink teddy bear. I had visited this villa a few times before the wedding, and each visit had left me awestruck. Nial Zach’s residence was nothing short of a masterpiece—a six-story marvel, boasting three elevators and two charming gardens. The grandeur of the decor was almost overwhelming, a testament to both wealth and taste. I took Steven to the room Nial had prepared for me and placed the teddy bear next to the pillow. “Steven, I’m sorry I didn’t prepare a gift for you, but this pendant necklace is very important to me. Can you help me take care of it?” “I’ll watch over it every day,” he promised. I put it on him, and he seemed very happy. “How about tonight you sleep with Mom, and tomorrow Mom will take you to preschool, okay?” I lowered my voice, speaking gently. If my best friend saw me now, tenderly cradling this little one, she might think I’d been possessed by some gentle spirit. “Okay,” he murmured softly, his voice a sweet whisper that melted my heart. Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the brief stiffness on his soft, adorable face. That night. “…And so the little fox lived happily ever after with its mommy.” As I whispered the final line of the story, I gazed down at the tiny angel who had drifted into a peaceful slumber. Just then… the phone rang suddenly. I was so startled I nearly dropped the phone and hurriedly hung up. Hearing Steven’s steady breathing, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. I quietly left the room, found a place where Steven wouldn’t hear me, and called back. “Clara Williams, you dare hang up on me?” Wendy Silver’s voice crackled with fury through the receiver. “I was with my son just now. Besides, it’s my wedding night; why are you calling at this ungodly hour?” I said, exasperated. “Yeah, right. Everyone knows your husband isn’t home—he went to work right after the wedding.” “Wait! What did you just say? Son? When did you have a son?” Wendy sounded shocked. I frowned. “He’s my husband’s son, but now he’s my son too.” It’s normal that she didn’t know; I only found out when I was informed I had to marry Nial Zach. Nial kept this child well-hidden. But now that the news is out… “And stop being so dramatic.” “But you don’t even like kids!” Wendy’s voice dripped with incredulity. “I know you’re all alone on your wedding night, so I was calling to comfort you.” Wendy said casually. How was I supposed to know the little dumpling would be so cute? Though I thought this, I didn’t say it out loud. “Alright, what’s up?” “You have to come to the reunion this Saturday. That little ‘fake sweet’ will be there too. Remember—dress to dazzle and make her fade into the background! Show them who truly shines!” Just hearing Wendy’s tone, I could almost feel the fury seething through the phone. Her voice was a sharp, barely-contained snarl, and I could vividly imagine her face twisted in a mask of pure, unbridled rage. I chuckled, attempting to soothe her simmering anger. “Alright, alright, it’s been years; I’ve long forgotten about all that.” Wendy huffed, her frustration palpable even through the phone. After a few more terse exchanges, we finally ended the call. I stood by the fifth-floor window, gazing out at the sprawling city below, my mind lost in a daze. Suddenly, I remembered that summer after high school graduation. 3 In high school, Wendy Silver, Sarah Payne, and I were particularly close. After the college entrance exams, at a group dinner, the school heartthrob suddenly confessed to me. Everyone was watching and making a fuss, and I got so annoyed that I outright rejected him. But what I didn’t know was that Sarah had been secretly pursuing him for a long time. Because I rejected him, the heartthrob, out of spite, turned around and got together with Sarah. People said she only got with him because of me. And just like that, our relationship deteriorated. I thought we wouldn’t see each other after going to college. But to my surprise, even though we weren’t at the same university, she still spread rumors about me, trying to make me miserable. But she and the heartthrob didn’t last long; he soon cheated on her. I heard she’ll be at the reunion this Saturday too. “Ahh! So annoying!” I ruffled my hair in frustration. But then again… It’s been so long; maybe she’s forgotten. With that thought, I relaxed. The next few days, I stayed home with Steven. Apart from dropping him off and picking him up, I spent my time designing. I’m a renowned fashion designer, and surrendering my career for marriage? That would be a betrayal to my very soul. The vibrant threads of my creativity weave through my life’s fabric, and to abandon it now would be nothing short of an artistic death. Lately, the little cutie has been a wellspring of inspiration, igniting my creativity like never before. Not designing would be a disservice to my identity! 4 That Saturday morning, a serene smile graced my lips as I watched Steven, lost in his world of building blocks. His innocence was a balm for my soul. Yet, the thought of the faces I would encounter that afternoon brought a heavy sigh to my lips, I couldn’t help but sigh. Why am I heading to a class reunion instead of a parent-teacher conference? Steven’s innocent gaze, filled with concern, cut through my brooding thoughts. “Mom, are you unhappy?” I gently rubbed Steven’s chubby little face, “Mom has a reunion to attend this afternoon. Can you stay home by yourself?” After spending the past few days together, Steven had grown closer to me. “Can I come too? I’ll be very good.” Thinking of who would be at the reunion, I declined. His bright eyes dimmed immediately. “Alright, I’ll wait for Mom at home.” A wave of guilt crashed over me. How could I leave him alone when I knew the kind of neglect he faced from his father? Bringing him along shouldn’t be a problem. After all, I could keep an eye on him. It felt like a betrayal to leave him home alone, especially when his father seemed to ignore his needs so often. “You can come. How about Steven keeps Mom company?” “Okay~” The instant I saw his eyes light up with pure joy, I breathed a sigh of relief. Yet, an unsettling feeling crept over me—why did it seem like I had just been outsmarted? The reunion was in full swing by the time we arrived. As soon as we stepped into the private room,, it had already started. “Isn’t this Clara? Why are you so late? Come on, we’ve been waiting for you.” As soon as I entered, I was noticed. So much for quietly sitting in a corner. I smiled and greeted them, seeing Wendy wave at me excitedly. I held Steven and walked over. This caught everyone’s attention. “Clara, who is this…?” After sitting down, I placed Steven on my lap. Seeing the bottles and cans of alcohol on the table, I frowned. “He’s my son.” Then I looked at the waiter and asked softly, “Do you have any drinks suitable for children?” “Yes, we do.” After settling Steven comfortably in my lap, I shot a sharp glance at Wendy. “Stop staring like that; you’ll scare my son,” Wendy chuckled, “Your son is so cute! Does he need a godmother?” She said mischievously. “Get lost.” I looked at her disdainfully. We ate and chatted. Soon, a strong perfume scent wafted over. The next second, Steven let out a sneeze, his tiny body shaking slightly. At that exact moment, a voice pierced through the clamor of the room, sharp and dripping with scorn. “Clara, I heard you recently married a man with a child. Are you really that desperate? You’re not planning to become a—” Though she didn’t finish, I knew what she meant. “Sarah Payne! Who do you think you’re mocking?” Wendy’s temper flared instantly as she glared at Sarah.

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Substitute, substitute – just a replacement for his true love. His true love was coming back, and I was supposed to gracefully exit. Who knew the obsessive male lead would try to force me to stay. His eyes flashed red as he spoke coldly: “Run away again, and I’ll have a cage made just for you.” I rolled my eyes. “This is a society of laws, you psycho.” But when I got home after finalizing the divorce, I saw a giant golden cage in the living room! I gasped. Was it too late to run now? That’s right, I was playing a role. The kind where you step into an over-the-top romance novel to help the original female lead fulfill her wishes. The original Aria had been a substitute for billionaire CEO Dominic Thorne for five years, falling hopelessly in love with him. She even schemed against his true love, Ethan White, just to win Dominic’s heart. In the end, she fell ill from despair and passed away quietly. I scoffed at this. If a man doesn’t work out, just find another one. But the original Aria was determined to hang onto Dominic Thorne. Her dying wish was for me to win Dominic’s heart. And then crush it! Trample it! Destroy it! Clearly, when love becomes an obsession, people go a bit crazy.

I stepped into the story three months before Ethan White was due to return. As soon as I opened my eyes, I heard a husky, suppressed voice say, “Shut up. Don’t make a sound. Your voice doesn’t sound like his.” I thought to myself, I haven’t even said anything! Then I realized something was off… Oh crap… we were in bed! Well, talk about perfect timing for my arrival. Whatever, since I’m here, might as well enjoy myself. I closed my eyes, ready to fully experience whether the male lead was any good. Suddenly, a stinging heat spread across my backside. Dominic had actually spanked me. “You’re being disobedient today. This is your punishment.” “Count.” Help! Why didn’t anyone tell me this male lead was a pervert? I gritted my teeth, thinking about my mission – win his heart, then crush it mercilessly! At that moment, I deeply understood the original Aria’s feelings. Swallowing my shame, I stammered out the count: “One.” “Smack!” “Two.” “Smack!” “Three.” … Meanwhile, I was forming a plan in my mind. Step one, to win someone’s heart, you first need to make them feel sorry for you. Sympathy is the precursor to love. I inwardly smirked. Feeling sorry for a man is the beginning of misfortune. Dominic Thorne, just you wait. Apart from counting as Dominic demanded, I didn’t say another word. I just let tears well up in my eyes, on the verge of falling but not quite. I stared at Dominic, my face full of grievance. But he remained unmoved. If anything, his movements became even more forceful. I could barely stand it and accidentally cursed out loud. Crap, I’d broken character before even getting started. Dominic suddenly froze. “…” Silence. Silence filled the large bed tonight. He sat up, gripping my chin, and said coldly, “What did you say? Say it again.” You bastard. But outwardly, I could only pout weakly and pitifully, “I didn’t say anything…” As for what happened after that… I don’t want to remember.

The next morning when I woke up, I was alone in the big bed. Dominic was nowhere to be seen. I gingerly tried to get up, my body aching all over. But for the sake of my mission, I gritted my teeth and got out of bed. Dominic is a wealthy CEO, very busy most of the time. I, as his substitute, had nothing to do except wait for his beck and call. This wouldn’t do. How could being a substitute be considered a proper job? It’s not like Dominic was paying me benefits or insurance. So, I decided to find a job first. Hmm, self-reliant people are the most beautiful. A regular nine-to-five wouldn’t work. What if Dominic called and I had to skip work to be his substitute? I’d easily get fired. I went to a bar, or more accurately, a gay bar. There were all kinds of men inside. I thought this job would be pretty good. I said I wanted to be a resident singer, and the owner pointed to the high stage, telling me to perform a song. This was easy for me. I took a few steps onto the stage and gave them a song and dance performance. The music was deafening, and the colorful lights flashed dizzily. I danced passionately on stage. The audience went wild, with many people shouting and some even trying to climb up to hug me. Lost in the performance, I took off my jacket. The short T-shirt underneath barely covered my waist, revealing glimpses of skin with each movement. Then I flashed a smile at the audience and tossed my jacket down, causing an uproar. Of course, I didn’t notice that Dominic, drinking with friends in a private booth, had already darkened his face. Whatever, with so many people in the audience, who was he to judge? When the song ended, I thought the owner would be satisfied, but he looked anxious instead. I asked in confusion, “What’s wrong? Was the atmosphere not lively enough? Should I do another song?” The owner quickly waved his hands and grabbed me, looking troubled. Before he could speak, I heard a familiar voice. “It seems I was too gentle last night.” Dominic leaned lazily against the counter, holding a glass of wine. He took a sip, then walked closer. His breath tickled my face. I lowered my eyes and said softly, “I don’t know how to do anything else. I can only do this kind of work. I’m sorry.” Dominic impatiently said, “Haven’t I given you money?” “But… but,” I bit my lip, a stark contrast to my wild performance earlier, “What if you don’t want me someday?” A faint wetness glazed my eyes, making them sparkle even more. I continued, “I heard people say Ethan White is coming back…” “Tch, so you’re looking for a backup plan?” Dominic laughed, “Finding a new sugar daddy in my own establishment? What kind of person do you take me for?” “No!” I quickly refuted, then looked up directly at Dominic, my eyes filled with an intense love that couldn’t be dissolved, “Actually, I know this place belongs to you. I… I…” “Why are you stammering? Spit it out!” So I continued, “I just thought, after you don’t want me anymore, if I work here, maybe someday when you come… I could see you from afar.” Dominic’s hand holding the wine glass paused. He seemed a bit irritated, “You like me that much?” I didn’t answer, but reached for the glass in his hand. He didn’t give it to me, instead pulling me into his arms and bringing the glass to my lips. I took a small sip, then turned my head and kissed him lightly, laughing softly, “Sweet.” Dominic’s eyes darkened, his hand on my waist tightening. Seeing his expression, I pressed on, hugging his neck. Though my voice was clearly reluctant, I pretended to be calm, “Don’t worry, I know I’m worlds apart from Ethan White. After he comes back, I’ll leave quietly. I won’t bother you two.” “But before he returns, can you… can you love me a little more?”

It turns out that acting weak and pitiful always works on men. Dominic didn’t let me work at the bar. Instead, he arranged for me to work at his company as his assistant. Tch, now we’d be seeing each other all day, every day. I went to work with him every morning and returned home together every evening. I completed every task exceptionally well, proving myself smart and capable. I could clearly feel that Dominic was no longer as cold towards me as before. Oh, and I secretly learned a bunch of cooking tutorials, bringing homemade lunches to eat with him. “I know you don’t eat onions, ginger, garlic, or soy sauce. I’ve been careful about all that. Try this sandwich, how is it?” I looked at Dominic with hopeful eyes. Step two, to capture a man’s heart, you must first capture his stomach. Imagine, who wouldn’t be moved by someone who cooks for you every day? Dominic sat on the couch, glanced at the lunchbox, and asked, “You made this?” “Yes, I watched some tutorials. The taste should be okay. Try it and see if you like it?” I said, then quickly added, “It’s fine if you don’t!” Dominic raised an eyebrow, “You commute with me every day, and you’re not free at night either. Where did you find time to watch tutorials? You weren’t slacking off at work, were you?” I hurriedly explained, my face slightly flushed, “Of course not! I… I watched them after you left at night.” Damn, he keeps me up so late every night! I can only stay up even later to watch tutorials. Dominic pulled me onto his lap, his large hands gripping my waist tightly. He said, “Then I won’t leave from now on. I’ll stay and make sure you don’t stay up late.” I immediately put on a delighted expression, “Really?” He used to go back to his own room to sleep after… well, you know. I’ve never even been to his room, only staying in the guest room. Dominic nodded, his magnetic, deep voice sounding by my ear, “Mm, come sleep in my room.” Sitting on his lap in broad daylight discussing this kind of topic inevitably led to some thoughts, inevitably led to some sparks flying. His hand slowly moved down, caressing from my waist to my butt, even trying to explore further. I felt a certain part of him changing, let out a soft gasp, and pushed against his chest with a red face, “Let’s… let’s eat first.” Dominic laughed out loud. I rarely saw him laugh so purely before, and was momentarily stunned. Damn, this face really is male lead material for a dramatic romance novel! “Alright, let’s eat first,” he was unusually gentle, but his next words revealed his true nature, “Then I’ll eat you.” He finished the sandwich in a few bites. When I asked if it was good, he said it was delicious, but his eyes were fixed only on me. Heh, men.

He went into the rest room for a moment, and when he came out, he had a tie and a black box in his hand. I thought, oh no, and the next second, Dominic blindfolded me with the tie. “Be good, we’re going to play a game of Red Light, Green Light today.” “…What?” Dominic took my hand and led me to the large office chair behind his desk. He picked me up and set me on the desk. “The rules of the game are, when I say the command, you must immediately freeze in whatever position you’re in. No talking, no laughing, no moving, no making a sound.” His hand caressed my throat, and I couldn’t help but swallow. I heard him chuckle, then he continued, “If you move or make a sound, you must accept a punishment.” He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Understand?” I nodded obediently. He then took my hands and placed my palms flat on the desk, saying “Then the game begins.” I thought he would immediately call out the command, so I tensed up. Being blindfolded made me a bit nervous, losing my sense of sight. But Dominic didn’t say anything for a while. He kissed me. First on my blindfolded eyes, then the tip of my nose, and finally my soft lips. The kiss was brief. It was replaced by his fingers. “Mmm…” My tongue was like a small fish between his fingers, slippery and playful. I could even feel the lines on his fingertips, though that was probably just my imagination. His fingers were long with distinct knuckles. I couldn’t help but inwardly grumble, why did they have to be so long! I could only open my mouth slightly to breathe in more air. At that moment, Dominic suddenly called out the command. !!! I froze. He just had to call it now of all times! Saliva was about to uncontrollably drip out, but I couldn’t move or make a sound. Damn it, perverted Dominic! This is too embarrassing. And while I couldn’t move, Dominic could! His other hand started roaming everywhere. The enemy was too cunning. I ultimately lost. I couldn’t help but bite down on his fingers, mumbling accusingly, “You’re bullying me…” Dominic didn’t mind being bitten. He gently pulled his hand away, took out a tissue to wipe the corner of my mouth, and smiled mischievously, “You broke the rules. You have to accept punishment.” I raised my hand to hug his hand before he could pull it back completely, gently kissing it with my lips, and looked at him pitifully, asking in a small voice, “Can the punishment be lighter?” But Dominic didn’t answer. He took off his own tie and then embraced me, tying my hands behind my back. Only then did he say, “For the first time, it can be.” I moved my wrists a bit. The tie was tied quite tightly. Then Dominic started unbuttoning my shirt, but not with his hands. Mm, he lowered his head and came closer, using his agile lips. The faint dampness was like wind and clouds, elusive and intangible. Although I couldn’t see his expression, my heartbeat shamefully quickened. Ah, men! They’re all the same at their core. I scorned myself. When he unbuttoned my chest, I couldn’t help but think, if my hands weren’t tied, as a normal man, I’d really want to press his head down hard right now, making him show a vulnerable and confused expression because of me. But alas, now I was at his mercy. I got lost in my thoughts, a bit distracted, until Dominic kissed a certain spot and then called out the command. I jolted! He’s doing this kind of thing again! I closed my mouth tightly, determined not to move or make a sound, not giving Dominic any chance to torment me. Unfortunately, things don’t always go as planned. When Dominic used his teeth to gently grind, I really couldn’t control myself and let out a moan. Dominic then let go of me, laughing happily, “That’s the second time. What should I punish you with this time?” “I’ll give you a pair of little butterflies.” I was stunned. What little butterflies? I heard Dominic seem to open a box and take something out. While I was still guessing what he had taken out, a sudden pain shot through my chest. Ah ah ah ah ah damn it! I know what Dominic took out now! What kind of decent person keeps these things in their office?! Dominic adjusted a bit, then gently flicked with his hand. The metal butterfly wings clinked together, making a delicate sound. He praised, “Beautiful.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294591”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #玄幻Fantsy #狼人werewolf #擦边Steamy #励志Inspiring #现实主义Realistic #校园School #后宫Harem #重生Reborn