Opening my eyes, I found myself back on the exact day I was supposed to sign my life away.
In my previous life, I listened to my wife, Serena, blindly. But the very second she got my signature on the asset transfer, she conspired with her lover to orchestrate a fatal car crash, sending me plunging into the freezing river.
What I could never forgive, what truly damned her in my eyes, was what she did next. She cut off the funding for my critically ill mother’s life-saving medication, leaving her to die in agony. And she ruthlessly terminated our three-month-old unborn child without a single ounce of remorse.
Right now, Serena walked into the bedroom holding a warm glass of milk. She forced a luxury fountain pen into my palm, her voice dripping with sickly sweet affection. “Babe, if you just sign this paperwork, I’ll finally believe you truly love me.”
I stared at her hypocritical, beautiful face for a few seconds before a cold chuckle escaped my lips.
Then, without a moment of hesitation, I signed my name on the dotted line.
1
She leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “You’re the best husband in the world! I’m going to go make you a special breakfast!”
Clutching the documents, she practically skipped out of the bedroom, her footsteps light and eager.
I watched her back, the smile on my lips vanishing inch by inch.
I picked up my phone. It rang twice before my assistant answered. “Transfer all core patents to my mother’s name immediately,” I ordered. “Empty the corporate liquid funds and route them into our offshore accounts. Work through the night, bypass the standard auditors, and leave absolutely zero trace.”
The line was dead silent for two seconds. “Understood, Mr. Wright.”
I hung up the phone and let out a long, heavy breath. In this life, I was going to make them pay in blood.
During the day, I played the part of the doting, oblivious husband to perfection. Serena cooked, flirted, and chatted with me, wearing her mask of the perfect, loving wife without a single flaw.
She even rubbed her flat stomach, her eyes turning convincingly red as she whispered softly. “Babe, we’re going to have a beautiful baby soon. I’m going to give you the healthiest, perfect little angel.”
I smiled and agreed, but my eyes were completely devoid of warmth.
Deep in the middle of the night, a faint rustling sound woke me. The space beside me in bed was empty.
I didn’t move. I waited until she tiptoed completely out of the master suite. Then, I slid out of bed and followed her barefoot, silent as a ghost.
The study door was left slightly ajar, a sliver of yellow light spilling onto the hardwood floor. I pressed my back against the wall and held my breath. From inside, I heard Serena’s voice, trembling with suppressed excitement. “He signed it! He actually signed it!”
Next came the voice of her lover, Derek, oozing with greed and malice through the video call. “Let me see it!”
Just as I thought. They couldn’t waste a single second once they had my assets in their sights.
“Once he’s dead, this estate will be enough to keep us living like royalty for the rest of our lives!” Serena’s eyes practically glowed with avarice.
Derek’s next words made my blood boil so hot I nearly kicked the door down to snap his neck. “The brakes are already rigged. We just wait for him to take the coastal highway out by Westridge Canyon. There are so many blind hairpin turns out there. Once he goes over the cliff, not even God could save him.”
The phantom sensation of freezing river water flooding my lungs and choking the life out of me surged back into my mind.
“His mother burned through twenty grand at the clinic just this month,” Derek continued. “The second Gideon is dead, the first thing we do is pull the plug. We can’t have her fighting us in probate court for the leftover assets.”
Serena frowned slightly. “Isn’t that a bit too cruel? It is his mother, after all…”
“Cruel?” Derek scoffed. “You didn’t think it was cruel when you scraped his parasite of a kid out of your stomach, did you?”
Serena went dead silent.
I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. My heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice, the pain so intense I could barely breathe.
I silently retreated to the bedroom, slipped under the covers, and closed my eyes.
The next morning, Serena woke up earlier than usual. She stood in my walk-in closet, meticulously picking out a dark grey casual suit for me. With feigned innocence, she casually made a suggestion. “Babe, the weather is gorgeous today. Why don’t we take a drive?” “How about Westridge Canyon?”
I sneered internally, but my face remained perfectly calm. I nodded. “Sure. I’ve been exhausted lately. A drive to clear my head sounds perfect.”
2
“Then it’s a date!” Serena’s eyes lit up. She quickly added, “You should take the Aston Martin. It’s been sitting in the garage forever. It needs a good run.”
“Whatever you say.”
She nodded in satisfaction and turned back into the closet to change her outfit.
Serena, were you really that impatient?
I pulled out my phone and shot a text to Marcus, my head of security. “Are we ready?”
Marcus replied instantly. “Everything is in position.”
I deleted the text thread and slid the phone back into my pocket.
Before I left the house, Serena thoughtfully adjusted my tie and pressed the keys to the Aston Martin directly into my palm. “Drive safe, honey. I’ll be waiting for you right here.”
I leaned down and placed a flawless, deceptive kiss on her forehead. “Okay. Wait for me.”
Wait for the spectacular gift I had prepared for you.
The sports car roared out of the gated community, speeding toward the western outskirts. I didn’t drive fast. I intentionally idled at several traffic lights, giving Serena more than enough time to confirm I was on the road.
Checking the rearview mirror, I spotted a black sedan tailing me from a distance. It was Derek’s men.
I let out a cold laugh and slammed my foot on the gas.
Half an hour later, I pulled into an abandoned gas station near the canyon, the prearranged swap point. A black SUV was already idling in the shadows.
Sitting in the driver’s seat was my most trusted operative, Jax, a former professional stunt driver.
“Bail out at the second hairpin turn. Are you sure you can pull this off? They are tailing me tight. We can’t afford a single mistake.”
Jax took the keys to the Aston Martin and flashed a confident grin. “Mr. Wright, I could do this blindfolded.”
I patted his shoulder, got into the SUV, and drove off in the opposite direction.
…
At ten o’clock sharp, breaking news alerts flooded every screen in the city.
BREAKING: Gideon Wright, Chairman of Pinnacle Group, missing after fatal car crash off Westridge Canyon cliff. Presumed dead.
I was sitting in my heavily fortified safehouse. A massive wall of monitors illuminated the dark room, broadcasting live feeds from my corporate headquarters and my private estate. Everything was right under my nose.
On one of the screens, I watched the living room of my own house. Serena was collapsed on the sofa, clutching her phone, crying hysterically. “Husband… how could you leave me all alone… I don’t want to live without you…”
I watched her performance with ice in my veins.
The doorbell rang. Serena instantly wiped away her fake tears and practically sprinted to the door.
Derek stood on the porch, holding a bottle of vintage champagne. “Get in here!”
She yanked him inside, slammed the door, and ripped the curtains shut. She began jumping up and down like a lunatic. “It worked. It really worked!”
Derek wrapped his arms around her waist, a massive, arrogant grin on his face.
Suddenly, Serena pushed him away. She marched to the center of the living room, ripped our massive wedding portrait off the wall, and smashed it onto the floor. She stomped on the glass twice. “Just looking at him makes me sick.”
She bent down, ripped my face out of the canvas, tore it in half, and tossed it into the trash can. “I’m hiring a crew tomorrow to gut this place. We’re hanging our wedding photos up instead.”
Derek frowned slightly. “Gideon is only listed as missing. He hasn’t been legally declared dead yet. We have to wait out the legal probation period.”
Serena’s eyes darted around, calculating. “I’ll file a petition for an expedited death certificate. I’ll tell the courts he suffered from severe clinical depression and had suicidal tendencies.” “I’ve already bribed the medical examiner. We’ll have the court order in three days.” “Once I inherit his company, it won’t matter even if he magically survives.”
Derek gave her a thumbs-up. “I always knew I picked a brilliant woman.”
Serena smiled smugly, wrapping her arms around Derek’s neck. “So… does that mean we can finally celebrate?”
Derek scooped her into his arms and carried her toward my bedroom.
Sitting in the glow of the monitors, I casually picked up my teacup and took a slow sip.
Serena. Derek. Enjoy the high while it lasts. Because the higher you climb, the harder you will shatter when you fall. Especially that brilliant idea to expedite the death certificate. You just saved me a lot of bureaucratic red tape.
I picked up my phone and texted Marcus. “Execute the next phase. Cooperate with her legal filings. Let her officially take over the company. Hand the empty shell right into her greedy hands.”
3
Three days later.
Serena successfully forged my psychiatric records and cashed in her bribes. The moment the court finalized the death declaration, she couldn’t stop smiling. She genuinely believed the entirety of Pinnacle Group was now her personal piggy bank.
From my safehouse, I watched the corporate boardroom cameras in crystal clear high definition.
The atmosphere in the massive conference room was suffocating. The founding executives and core management team were all seated, faces grim.
Serena slammed the forged will and the court order onto the mahogany table, her tone dripping with arrogance. “Listen up. Gideon Wright is legally dead. As of this exact moment, I am taking absolute control of Pinnacle Group!”
Vice President Bennett, a loyal veteran who had built the company alongside me and owed his life to my late father, immediately slammed his hands on the table. “Ms. Serena, the probate process isn’t even fully finalized. You have absolutely zero corporate management experience. If you take the helm now, you will run this company into the ground!”
Derek stepped forward smoothly, tossing a thick stack of printed documents onto the table. He offered a slimy, threatening smile. “Vice President Bennett, I have the exact paper trail of the twenty million dollars you embezzled from the corporate accounts.” “The financial crimes unit is sitting in the lobby right now. Keep barking, and I’ll have them escort you out in handcuffs.”
Bennett’s face turned ash grey. He clenched his fists and fell dead silent.
Seeing him back down, Serena grew even more power-drunk. She lifted her chin and barked her first order. “From now on, the finance department reports directly to me. Not a single cent leaves this building without my signature!”
The moment the words left her mouth, several core executives stood up in perfect unison, exactly as I had secretly instructed them days ago.
“Ms. Serena, Pinnacle Group is Gideon Wright’s legacy. We only answer to him. We resign.”
Without a shred of hesitation or regret, they turned on their heels and marched toward the exit.
Panic flashed across Serena’s face. She shot up from her leather chair and shrieked. “Stop right there! Who gave you permission to leave?” “I am the legal owner of this company! If you walk out that door, it’s a breach of contract! I’ll sue all of you into bankruptcy!”
Ignoring her completely, the rest of the room stood up, grabbed their briefcases, and filed out the door.
Within seconds, the packed boardroom was entirely empty.
A heavy, dead silence settled over the room. Serena stood frozen at the head of the table, her entire body trembling with rage. Derek panicked, grabbing her arm to ask what their next move was. Serena just screamed at him hysterically. “How the hell should I know?! A bunch of ungrateful traitors! Do they think they’ll die without Gideon?!”
I watched the two idiots panic on the screen. Every single one of those executives was my person. We had an agreement: the moment Serena officially claimed power, they would trigger a mass exodus.
Did she honestly think a piece of paper made her a CEO? Absolutely delusional.
Without the core management team, Serena and Derek were nothing but figureheads staring at an empty fortress. They were running around like headless chickens.
Desperate to project power, they began a suicidal spending spree. They drained the corporate petty cash to buy luxury sports cars and designer watches. They even forged procurement contracts to siphon cash out of the accounts, turning the ledgers into a chaotic mess. Every single illegal transaction they authorized became airtight evidence for corporate embezzlement.
While Serena was frantically trying to clean up the operational nightmare, she finally set her sights on my mother.
The security feed captured the audio of her cold, emotionless voice as she called the private clinic. “Hello, this is Serena. Stop all billing for Gideon Wright’s mother immediately.” “Starting tomorrow, cut off all imported medications. Cancel the private suite and dump her in the general ward.”
The administrator on the other end must have questioned the decision.
Serena snapped impatiently. “That old hag is just wasting perfectly good oxygen. She’s better off dead anyway. That way she won’t be around to fight me for my money.”
Staring at the screen, I cracked my knuckles, a dark fury simmering in my chest.
In my past life, this was the exact moment my mother’s medications were cut. Three days later, her complications flared up, and she died in agony. In this life, the day after I faked my death, my private security team quietly transferred her to a world-class facility in Switzerland with round-the-clock intensive care.
But this recorded phone call? This was ironclad proof of attempted murder.
Tomorrow was Serena and Derek’s highly publicized “Chairman Inauguration Ceremony.”
They had invited every major media outlet in the city. They wanted to officially crown themselves royalty in the grand lobby of Pinnacle Group headquarters.
And I was going to make sure they remembered tomorrow for the rest of their miserable lives.
4
The grand lobby of Pinnacle Group Headquarters.
Serena and Derek were desperately trying to hold together an absolutely pathetic inauguration ceremony. Pinnacle Group was currently nothing but an empty shell. But driven by pure arrogance, they had invited over a hundred journalists, hoping to use a flashy ceremony to trick new investors into bailing them out.
The crystal chandeliers were blindingly bright, but the guest seating was embarrassingly sparse. The few business partners who did show up had dark, unimpressed expressions. The reporters were whispering among themselves, clearly just waiting for the circus to start.
Serena clung to Derek’s arm, forcing a confident smile as she walked down the red carpet, though her perfectly manicured fingers were trembling slightly.
The moment she stepped up to the podium, the microphone let out a piercing, ear-splitting feedback screech. There wasn’t even a sound technician to fix the backup audio. The entire administrative department had been reduced to two clueless interns. They couldn’t run a bake sale, let alone a corporate press conference.
She cleared her throat, forcing herself to speak through the agonizing awkwardness. “Distinguished guests, members of the press. Due to Gideon’s tragic and sudden passing, I will be taking the helm of Pinnacle Group…”
Before she could finish her sentence, the massive glass doors of the lobby were violently pushed open.
Every single executive and manager who had resigned three days ago marched back into the building, heads held high.
The entire hall fell dead silent.
Serena’s face turned sheet white. She pointed a shaking finger and shrieked. “What are you doing here?! Security! Get them out!”
Vice President Bennett stepped to the front of the pack, his voice booming across the lobby. “We are here to reclaim the legal management rights of Pinnacle Group!” “Serena and Derek have illegally embezzled corporate assets and maliciously terminated key management. Today, all resigned employees are officially reinstated. Furthermore, we have partnered with the board of shareholders to launch a joint legal strike!”
Right on cue, the massive LED screens behind the podium flashed to life. They displayed notices of suspended core projects, massive contract terminations from major suppliers, and the staggering resignation logs. Serena’s sheer incompetence and criminal negligence were broadcast live to every camera in the room.
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In my past life, my cousin was brutally bullying an old woman. I stepped in and saved her. As a token of her gratitude, the old woman gave me a seemingly ordinary trinket known as the Siren’s Tear. Riding on the breathtaking, supernatural beauty that pearl granted me, I blew up on social media, became an A-list influencer, and eventually married into one of the country’s wealthiest legacy families. But in this life, my cousin beat me to it. She snatched the Siren’s Tear right out from under me. She smirked, triumphantly declaring that everything that was supposed to be mine would now belong to her. What she didn’t know was that the so-called Siren’s Tear was actually a magnet for pure nightmare. Becoming the flawless, adored darling of the world wasn’t her ticket to paradise. It was the beginning of a very short, very tragic life.
1 When my consciousness slammed back into my eighteen-year-old body, my cousin Jessie was just driving her designer boot into a janitor’s frail ribs. “Are you completely blind? You splashed dirty mop water all over my new skirt! Do you have any idea how much this costs? You couldn’t pay for it if you worked for a hundred years!” It was the exact same scene from my past life. The janitor was a silver-haired older woman. The sharp tip of Jessie’s shoe had caught her shin, and dark blood was welling up from the cut. Terrified of losing her minimum-wage job, the old woman didn’t dare fight back. She just kept her head bowed, muttering apologies in a thick, raspy accent. Jessie let out a disgusted scoff and spun on her heel to leave. In my previous life, I couldn’t stand watching it. I ran to a nearby drugstore, bought antiseptic wipes and bandages, and even grabbed a hot coffee for the old woman. After I handed those over, she wiped her teary eyes, called me a sweet girl, and dug into her faded uniform pocket to pull out a single bead. It was a mesmerizing, iridescent thing, but the material felt cheap. It looked like glass or resin, something you could buy a handful of for a few bucks at a flea market. “This is the Siren’s Tear,” the old woman had whispered. “Once it claims you as its master, you will become the most beautiful woman to ever walk this earth.” Back then, I thought she was just an eccentric lady telling fairy tales. But after that day, I began to bloom. It wasn’t a sudden, drastic plastic-surgery change. My bone structure stayed the same, but my features grew impossibly refined. My skin turned to flawless porcelain, my hair thickened into a cascade of midnight silk. Everyone who looked at me said I possessed an ethereal, intoxicating aura. Soon after, a few casual selfies went viral, and I skyrocketed to the top of the influencer food chain. Luxury brands begged me to be their ambassador, big-shot directors offered me leading roles, and trust-fund billionaires threw mansions and sports cars at my feet just to win a single smile from me. I never expected to open my eyes and find myself back at the exact moment the janitor was bleeding on the mall floor. Only this time, after kicking the old woman, Jessie froze. She whipped her head around, her eyes wide with a mix of utter shock and manic ecstasy. My stomach dropped. She had been reborn, too. Suddenly, Jessie swallowed her arrogant sneer. She practically scrambled to help the old woman up, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face. “Oh my god, ma’am, I am so, so sorry! It was a total accident,” she cooed. “Are you thirsty? Are you hungry? I have a fresh artisanal pastry right here in my bag, please take it!” The old woman kept her head down, completely ignoring Jessie’s frantic brown-nosing, and tried to limp away. Seeing that the nice act wasn’t working, Jessie immediately dropped the facade. She snapped her fingers. The two high school boys who had been carrying her shopping bags instantly stepped up, grabbing the old woman by both arms and pinning her in place. I watched as Jessie aggressively dug her manicured hands into the janitor’s pockets until she found that iridescent bead. I took a step forward to stop her, but the two boys immediately blocked my path, puffing out their chests. With a wicked grin, Jessie slipped the pearl onto her wrist using a piece of string. The glass bead emitted a brief, blinding pulse of light before dimming back to normal. It had bonded with its new master. Jessie strutted over to me, her face flushed with the ultimate victory. “Well, Sydney, looks like the golden ticket is mine this time. Let’s see how you compete with me now.”
2 Jessie and I were technically cousins, but we grew up under the same roof. After my parents passed away in a car crash, my Uncle Robert and Aunt Martha only took me in because they didn’t want the rest of the family gossiping about them. Growing up, Jessie hated my guts. I always got higher grades, I was better at piano and art, and during parent-teacher conferences, the teachers praised my intelligence while subtly hinting at Jessie’s lack of focus. Jessie’s only weapon was her looks. I was aggressively average. I hid my face behind thick, heavy black frames and wore baggy hoodies. Jessie, on the other hand, was the undisputed queen bee of our grade. She obsessed over makeup and fashion, shining like a diamond among the drab, exhausted student body. Whenever the extended family got together for Thanksgiving, the nosy aunts would always point at us and laugh. “Our Sydney is going to be a hard worker, but our Jessie? Jessie is going to marry rich.” Every time she heard that, a smug little smile would tug at the corners of Jessie’s lips. To her, busting your ass for a paycheck was for losers. Marrying into billions was the real flex. So when I, the ugly duckling, stumbled upon the Siren’s Tear and transformed into a world-class beauty who could print money just by looking at a camera, Jessie absolutely lost her mind. I had become an untouchable goddess, existing in a realm a regular pretty girl like her could never even dream of reaching. I don’t know if she made a deal with the devil or found some dark glitch in the universe, but she managed to drag us both back to our senior year of high school. This time, with the pearl on her wrist, Jessie’s transformation began almost immediately. When we returned to school after the winter break, every eye in the hallway tracked her every move. Her skin was luminous. Her dark hair flowed like spun silk, and her eyes held a misty, seductive depth. When the sunlight hit her just right, she looked like a masterpiece painted by a Renaissance master. You could practically hear the hearts of every boy in school flatlining. They swarmed her like bees to honey. Some offered to carry her books, others ran to buy her iced lattes, begging to save her a seat in the cafeteria. Jessie soaked up the attention with soft, teasing laughs. Then, she parted the sea of boys and walked right up to my locker. She slung an arm over my shoulder, leaning in close so only I could hear. “I remember every single one of these guys begging for your number in our past life. How does it feel, Syd? Break’s over, you don’t have your little magic pearl, and you’re right back to being the pathetic, unloved ugly duckling.” I adjusted my thick, black-rimmed glasses and looked at her with a deadpan expression. “Having a horde of desperate stalkers isn’t exactly the flex you think it is, Jessie.” Jessie had been waiting to see me cry, to see me crushed. When my words hit her, her smile vanished. She took a step back, her eyes narrowing as she studied me. A second later, a malicious spark ignited in her gaze. Without warning, she threw herself backward. She tumbled down the short flight of stairs behind her, hitting the linoleum floor with a loud thud. Before anyone could process what happened, Jessie grabbed her ankle, tears streaming down her flawless cheeks. “Sydney, I’m so sorry! I know you’re mad that the choir teacher gave me the solo instead of you, but I swear I didn’t ask for it! You didn’t have to push me!” It took me a second to realize what she was talking about. I had been the lead soloist for the winter concert, but when the principal found out local politicians were attending, the choir director quietly replaced me with Jessie. He had pulled me aside, looking genuinely guilty. “Sydney, your voice is miles better, but we need stage presence. Jessie just… looks the part for the front row.” I hadn’t cared. Honestly, less rehearsal time for me. But Jessie had logged it into her mental ledger as a massive victory over me. Right now, she was sitting in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs, looking fragile, delicate, and devastatingly beautiful. A crowd was already forming. With her slender hands clutching her ankle, her brows knitted in pain, and a single tear clinging perfectly to her long lashes, she looked like a fallen angel. The murmurs in the crowd quickly turned into daggers aimed at me. “What the hell, Sydney? If you’re bitter about the solo, go cry to the teacher. Why assault Jessie?” “Did you think breaking her ankle would magically put you back on stage?” “She’s always been an arrogant know-it-all. God forbid someone gets something instead of her.” The venomous whispers echoed in the stairwell. Jessie looked up at me with those big, tear-filled eyes. If beautiful people were the main characters of the universe, then these bystanders were just mindless NPCs programmed to defend her. Suddenly, the crowd parted. Danny, the star quarterback, stepped through. Danny was the boy Jessie had been obsessively crushing on since freshman year. But he was notorious for being cold and unattainable. Jessie had slipped love letters into his locker three times, and he had thrown every single one in the trash. Yet, in my past life, after the Siren’s Tear changed me, this exact same icy untouchable boy had shown up at my door with a birthday cake, nervously asking if I would wear his jersey to the Friday night game. It was the ultimate humiliation that had driven Jessie insane with jealousy. But right now, the boy who once swore he’d love me forever shot me a look of pure, unadulterated disgust. He knelt down, scooped Jessie up into his arms in a bridal carry, and held her tight against his chest. “I’m taking you to the nurse,” he said softly. The entire hallway erupted in dramatic swoons and cheers, eating up the high-school movie moment. Jessie’s face flushed a deep, pretty pink. The blush made her look even more radiant. She buried her face into Danny’s chest, throwing a triumphant, mocking glance at me over his shoulder. As Danny carried her away and the crowd dispersed, I stood alone in the hallway. Honestly, I had considered warning her about the pearl. I wanted to tell her that the Siren’s Tear wasn’t a blessing. It was a curse wrapped in a pretty bow. Whatever worldly benefits it gave you through beauty, it demanded back a tenfold price in blood and terror. If Jessie hadn’t dragged us back in time, there was a very real chance my past life would have ended with me brutally murdered on a private island. But watching her giggle in Danny’s arms, I swallowed my warning. Karma had set the table. Let her eat what she served.
3 Truthfully, I loved my life without the magic pearl. In my past life, the intoxicating rush of sudden fame completely derailed me. I drowned in the glitz and glamour of being a mega-influencer, and my grades flatlined. Uncle Robert and Aunt Martha, smelling the cash, pressured me to monetize my face immediately. They signed me up for endless brand deals, forcing me to hustle from one exhausting photo shoot to another. Billionaires invited me to their exclusive private dinners, treating me like a shiny new hood ornament to show off to their business partners. Looking back, the nights I spent draped in couture, stepping out of limos into VIP lounges, must have made Jessie want to claw her own skin off. She used to stay up until 3 AM reading the millions of comments worshipping my “god-tier genetics,” wishing she had been the one to help that dirty old janitor. But she didn’t know the reality of that life. I bombed my SATs. Uncle Robert told me college was a waste of time when I was already making millions. The grueling schedules and the internet trolls spreading vicious, fabricated rumors about my sex life destroyed my mental health. I relied on heavier and heavier prescription pills just to sleep for four hours. At those exclusive dinners, middle-aged CEOs made a game out of getting me blackout drunk, waiting until I was too dizzy to push their sweaty hands off my thighs. An Oscar-winning director sent me a script for a blockbuster movie, but folded inside the pages was the keycard to his hotel room. My aunt and uncle knew exactly what it meant, yet they pushed me to go. They even considered slipping something into my drink to make me compliant. Jessie knew none of this. She was too busy swiping my credit card, living like a royal in the Beverly Hills mansion I bought, whining about how unfair it was that I was the famous one. This time, I refused to let history repeat itself. I realized the hard way that beauty without power is just bait in shark-infested waters. But real knowledge? A degree? Skills? That was armor no one could strip away. So, I buried myself in my textbooks. Without photo shoots and stalkers distracting me, my intellect sharpened into a weapon. A week later, at the winter concert, Jessie stood center stage in a stunning white tulle dress. Under the soft blue spotlights, she looked like a pristine white swan gliding over a lake. She couldn’t hit a high note to save her life, so the choir director had secretly pre-recorded my voice and let her lip-sync. She had even wrapped a thick, dramatic bandage around her perfectly fine ankle, making sure to limp tragically when she bowed. What’s more captivating than a beautiful swan? A beautiful, wounded swan. The school was completely under her spell, which meant the hostility toward me reached a fever pitch. Jessie struck while the iron was hot. She began leaking little sob stories to her orbiters. She claimed I was pathologically jealous of her looks, constantly lying to our aunt and uncle to get her grounded. She blamed her failing grades on me, telling people I deliberately gave her the wrong study guides. After her tearful confessions, she would always add, “But please don’t be mean to Sydney. She’s my cousin. I forgive her.” It was a masterclass in manipulation. The boys’ protective instincts went into overdrive. They became crusaders for their fragile, innocent goddess, determined to punish the wicked witch. Thumbtacks and dead insects started appearing in my locker. I came back from the bathroom to find my backpack thrown out a third-story window. Someone spray-painted “SYDNEY IS A DIRTY TRAMP” in neon red letters on the brick wall by the gym. Whoever bullied me the most got the ultimate reward: a soft, teary-eyed smile from Jessie and a whispered, “Thank you for protecting me. You’re so brave.” When no one was looking, she’d turn to me with a wicked smirk. “Look at that, Syd. I don’t even have to lift a finger to ruin your life.” Of all my tormentors, Danny was the most vicious. In my past life, I had asked him what he liked about me. He had looked me dead in the eye and said, “I love everything about you, Sydney. Your brain, your humor, your kindness. Everything.” He never mentioned my looks. Now, my brain, humor, and kindness were exactly the same. Yet Danny ordered his football buddies to shove me onto the wet tiles of the locker room. He stepped on my hand with his heavy cleats, grinding down hard. “If I hear you even look at Jessie the wrong way,” he growled, “I’ll snap your fingers.” Through the blinding pain, a dark, cynical laugh forced its way out of my throat. “Do you really love her, Danny?” He blinked, thrown off by the question, before sneering. “Obviously.” “What do you love about her?” He paused, then echoed his words from another lifetime. “I love everything about her.” I laughed so hard tears pricked my eyes. Oh, Jessie. Beauty is the ultimate blindfold. Whoever wears it can never see the world for what it truly is. When I got home that day, Jessie noticed my bruised, swollen hand. She sipped her green juice and smiled. “How does it feel? You were so in love with Danny in the last life. Getting stabbed in the back by your soulmate… hurts, doesn’t it? Tell me all about it.” She was starving for my misery to validate her choices. I didn’t say a word. I just dropped my gaze to the pearl resting on her wrist. She noticed my stare and yanked her arm back. “Don’t even think about stealing it. You know damn well it won’t work.” I knew. Once the Siren’s Tear bonded, it was locked to the host’s soul. I knew this because Jessie had tried to steal it from me in the past life. She had drugged me, cut the string, and taken it, but the moment she walked out the door, the pearl materialized right back on my wrist. But I didn’t want it back. I was looking at the mesmerizing, swirling colors inside the glass. A faint, jagged black vein had appeared in the center of the bead. It was the mark of the curse, the physical manifestation of impending doom. And it was getting darker by the day. Jessie followed me up the stairs, still taunting me, right up until I pulled an envelope out of my battered backpack. It bore the crest of Columbia University. In my past life, I never made it to college. This time, my early acceptance letter was in my hands. “Oh, look at that,” Jessie scoffed, though a flicker of annoyance crossed her eyes. “Going to an Ivy League. I guess without your magic cheat code, you have to grind yourself to the bone just to end up as some corporate drone making a flat salary. I’ll make your yearly income in one sponsored post.” Jessie was desperate to be famous. Her big break came sooner than expected. The school was filming a promotional video, and the principal, still mesmerized by her concert performance, personally selected her as the lead. In the video, Jessie wore a simple varsity jacket, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail. But her devastating, unearthly beauty pierced right through the screen. She looked like the purest, most unattainable fantasy of youth. The video hit TikTok and YouTube. It exploded. Overnight, she was crowned the internet’s newest “It Girl,” gaining millions of followers in a matter of days. Agents, talent scouts, Hollywood producers, and luxury brands flooded her DMs. Jessie eagerly dove headfirst into the life I had lived. But she quickly hit a brick wall: the reality of the work. To shoot a high-end commercial, she had to stand in six-inch stilettos for fourteen hours straight under blistering studio lights, holding a frozen smile while a director yelled at her. Movie sets were worse. Being forced into freezing water tanks while on her period was the baseline. Creepy producers cornered her in trailers, heavily implying that her career would disappear if she didn’t sleep with them. For someone determined to build an empire, this was just the price of admission. But Jessie refused to suffer. In her mind, a true beauty was meant to be pampered, kept in a velvet box, and fed peeled grapes. She broke down crying to Aunt Martha and Uncle Robert. “Working hard is for losers. I don’t want to do this anymore! Why should I kill myself working when I can use this fame to catch a billionaire?” Since Jessie was their biological daughter, they didn’t treat her like the cash cow they had turned me into. They stroked her hair and fully supported her plan. Jessie began meticulously filtering through her wealthy suitors. A high school star like Danny was practically a peasant to her now. She was fending off advances from platinum-selling artists, tech CEOs, and old-money aristocrats. I already knew exactly who she was going to pick. Sure enough, weeks later, the tabloids exploded with leaked paparazzi footage of Jessie dining with Preston Kensington, the second son of the notoriously powerful Kensington empire. In the video, Prestonâusually known for his icy, ruthless corporate personaâwas practically a golden retriever around her. He opened her car door, draped his bespoke suit jacket over her shoulders, and held her hand as they walked into a Michelin-starred restaurant, gazing at her like she was the only woman on earth. At that exact moment, I was sitting in a quiet, sunlit library at Columbia University, scrolling through the article on my laptop. A group of girls at the next table were whispering excitedly. “Oh my god, Preston Kensington. He’s literally American royalty. Yale grad, trust fund baby. Jessie is living the dream.” One girl rolled her eyes. “She’s just an Instagram model with a pretty face. No way a Kensington actually puts a ring on that.” Another quickly shot back, “Are you blind? Look at her! Men would start wars for a face like that.” I closed my laptop. People were so delightfully naive. In my past life, I was the one holding Preston Kensington’s hand. The day our relationship went public, Jessie locked herself in her room and smashed every mirror, perfume bottle, and piece of electronics she owned. She felt she had definitively lost. No matter what she did, she could never marry a man more powerful than Preston. The old family prophecyâthat she would marry rich while I worked hardâfelt like a cruel joke. It was during my romantic “getaway” with Preston that Jessie somehow found the loophole to rewind time. … Even though Jessie had been nothing but a nightmare to me, I genuinely owed her a massive thank you. Because if she hadn’t reset the timeline, I would have died a horrific, bloody death at Preston’s hands on a private island in the Caribbean. … Because of that unintentional rescue, I decided to give her one final warning. During the summer break, as Jessie was excitedly packing her Louis Vuitton trunks to move into Preston’s cliffside mansion, I leaned against her doorframe. “Rich people don’t get rich by being stupid, Jessie,” I said quietly. “At their level of power, beauty isn’t a scarce resource. They can buy any model on earth. Think about it for a secondâwhy would Preston Kensington actually marry you?” The words barely left my mouth beforeâsmack! Jessie slapped me so hard my glasses flew off my face. “Who the hell do you think you are, Sydney?” she shrieked, her face twisted in ugly rage. “Are you implying I’m not good enough for him? You’re just sick to your stomach because I’m getting the billionaire and you’re getting a student loan!” I rubbed my stinging cheek. I wanted to tell her that Preston never planned on marrying me, either. In my past life, I always had a gut feeling something was off about him. But his family’s conglomerate owned the parent companies of half my brand deals. If I dumped him, my career was over. So, when he asked me to fly to his private island in the Caribbean for a “romantic vacation and exclusive photoshoot,” I went. By the time the alarm bells in my head got loud enough for me to try and run, it was too late. A needle plunged into my neck. I woke up strapped to an altar in a damp, stone cellar under the island estate. I was stripped bare, surrounded by chanting figures in robes. …
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1 To celebrate Stephenâs city-shaking merger, I booked out his favorite Michelin restaurant. Waiting, I scrolled and found a trending postâa thank-you from a foster-care alum. “Thank you, my anonymous sponsor. You called me a resilient wildflower, told me to grow toward the sun. You said you missed college, so you wanted me to live that life for you. You said you only knew how to make money, and your gift was that Iâd never fear a price tag again.” Each line felt raw, tender. Comments called her lucky, blessed by a guardian angel. I almost scrolled on. Saints donât exist. Then I froze. The letter was signed: S. A faint laugh escaped me. It couldnât be Stephen. He was a high-school dropout who built a fortune from nothingâruthless, money-obsessed, famously cold. Heâd mocked my empathy, called charity a hypocriteâs tax trick. The one thing he ever did without calculating returns was marry me. That made me believe in his love. Compelled, I opened her profile. Her pinned photo drained the color from my face. She stood on tiptoe, smiling, placing a graduation cap on a manâs head. His back was to the cameraâtall, posture stiff, unmistakably familiar. One look told me everything. I knew the watch on his wrist. Iâd given it to Stephen for our anniversary. It felt like an invisible hand had reached into my chest and crushed my heart. I couldn’t breathe. I zoomed in on the photo until the pixels blurred. The details on his wrist were unmistakable. I knew that watch intimately. On the back of the dial, hidden against the skin, I had requested an engraving of our initials: S&S. I had designed the monogram myself. My brain flatlined. A high-pitched ringing echoed in my ears. I forced myself to inhale. Maybe it was just a coincidence. But the upload date on the photo was from last month. It was the exact day of our wedding anniversary. Stephen had told me there was an emergency board meeting. He hadn’t come home that night. So his “emergency board meeting” was actually taking place hundreds of miles away in a college town, celebrating another woman’s graduation. The harsh blue light of the phone screen reflected off my pale face. The soft, elegant jazz playing in the restaurant suddenly sounded like a mocking funeral dirge. “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Stephen’s cold, baritone voice echoed from above me. I jerked my head up. He was already standing by the table, dressed in a flawless charcoal suit. A faint trace of exhaustion lingered in his eyes. He loosened his silk tie out of habit, his gaze dropping to my untouched plate. His brow furrowed slightly. “Food isn’t to your liking?” I instinctively flipped my phone face down on the tablecloth, forcing a smile that felt like shattered glass. “No. I was just waiting for you.” He pulled out his chair and sat down. As his arm moved, his bare wrist caught the ambient light. Empty. My stomach plummeted into an abyss. “Where is your watch?” I heard my own voice ask, sounding hollow and dry. Stephen didn’t even pause as he reached for his water glass. He didn’t look at me. “Took it off during the meeting. Left it at the office.” The office. Again. I stared unblinkingly at him, desperately searching his perpetually calm, statuesque face for a single crack, a single micro-expression of guilt. Nothing. He was a perfectly calibrated machine. Flawless. “The acquisition went through. Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” He finally lifted his eyes to meet mine. They were dark and unreadable. I took a deep, shuddering breath and slid my phone across the table toward him. “Stephen. This ‘Mr. S.’ Is it you?”
2 Stephen picked up the phone. He gave the screen a cursory, half-second glance before tossing it back onto the table, completely unbothered. “Yeah.” He admitted it so easily. So casually. As if he were confirming that it might rain tomorrow. My heart felt like it had been struck by a sledgehammer. A dull, suffocating pain radiated through my ribs. “Why?” I asked. “Why what?” He picked up his knife and fork, slicing into his steak with slow, deliberate precision. He didn’t look up. “Didn’t you say charity was a game for hypocrites?” I couldn’t stop my voice from trembling. His knife stopped scraping against the porcelain. He finally deemed me worthy of his attention. His eyes held a flicker of impatience and mockery. It was a look I was painfully familiar with. “I threw some pocket change at a problem to buy some peace and quiet. Is that a crime?” “Serena, since when did you become an interrogator?” “Snooping through my phone, questioning my whereabouts. Is this your grand idea of celebrating my corporate victory?” His words were laced with ice, stabbing directly into my chest. I looked at him and suddenly felt like I was sitting across from a total stranger. “And the photo?” I enunciated every word slowly. “The graduation ceremony. The cap. And my watch. Did you leave all of those at the office, too?” Stephen dropped his cutlery with a clatter. He leaned back against his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked at me with eyes as cold as a frozen lake. “Serena, my patience has a limit.” “Sponsoring a student is like buying a bespoke suit or throwing capital at a startup. I don’t need a profound reason to do it.” “As for your watch,” he paused, his tone dripping with disdain, “it’s just a watch. I can give it to a homeless guy on the street if I feel like it. Do I need to submit an expense report to my wife?” “Or did you already calculate the exact return on investment when you bought it for me?” He choked the life out of my argument. I was left shivering, utterly voiceless. Of course. This was Stephen. The man who squeezed every last drop of profit out of every transaction. In his eyes, maybe our marriage was just another merger. And my anniversary gift was just a depreciating asset he could write off. “Who is she?” I clenched my fists under the table, my nails digging half-moons into my palms. “Just a student,” he replied smoothly. “A student important enough to make you ditch your own wedding anniversary and fly across the country?” I practically screamed the words. The few other patrons in the VIP dining room turned their heads to stare at us. Stephen’s face darkened instantly. A storm brewed in his eyes. He abruptly stood up and snatched his suit jacket from the back of the chair. “You are being completely irrational.” He spat those words out and turned on his heel. He walked out without a single glance backward. I watched his broad shoulders disappear through the mahogany doors, feeling like the oxygen had been vacuumed out of the room. The gourmet food on the table still looked immaculate, but to me, it smelled like rot. I picked up my phone and clicked back to the girl’s profile. Her banner image was a sprawling, vibrant field of sunflowers. Stephen used to tell me he despised sunflowers. He called them stupid, desperate weeds that blindly chased the light. He said they were fake. But in the girl’s most recent post, a man was standing right in the middle of that very field. It was just a shot of his back, but I knew the slope of his shoulders better than I knew myself. The caption read: “Mr. S says he loves sunflowers. He says they always look toward the light, just like me.” A comment underneath asked: “Is that your boyfriend?” The girl replied with a blushing emoji. “He’s someone way more important than a boyfriend.” Way more important than a boyfriend. Then what was I? I was his legally wedded wife. Where did I fit on that hierarchy? A memory pierced my skull. Right after we got married, I dragged him to a botanical garden. We stood in front of a sunflower patch. He had stood on the gravel path, looking at his phone, a scowl etched onto his face. He refused to even take a selfie with me. He had said, “Serena, stop wasting my time on this pointless garbage.” It wasn’t that the sunflowers were pointless. It was just that the woman standing next to him wasn’t her. I locked my phone screen. The dam broke, and the tears finally fell. All these years of fiercely defending our love. It was nothing but a pathetic, one-sided joke.
3 Stephen didn’t come home that night. I sat alone in the cavernous, empty mansion until the sun bled through the sheer curtains. I couldn’t just roll over and take this. I refused to be the bitter, passive housewife crying into her silk pillows. I called Stephen’s executive assistant. I lied, saying I needed to cross-reference his allergy medication with a new prescription, and manipulated him into sending me the full background file on the sponsored girl. Her name was Willow. A senior at a state university. Stellar GPA. Legitimate foster care background. Attached to the file was her student ID photo. The girl in the picture had eyes that curved into crescents when she smiled, framing two deep, faint dimples. She looked pure. Untouched. Like a blank canvas. But the detail that felt like a knife twisting in my gut was her bone structure. Her eyes and the shape of her jaw were an exact replica of how I looked in my early twenties. I stared at my reflection in the vanity mirror. I looked at the sharp, tired angles of my face, worn down by years of managing a high-society marriage. Suddenly, all the puzzle pieces snapped together. He didn’t fall in love with someone else. He fell in love with the ghost of my youth. And the current version of me? I was just an outdated model. A liability waiting to be liquidated. My chest felt like it had been ripped open. I was bleeding out on the hardwood floor. Swallowing the nausea, I scrolled further down the file. The dossier meticulously tracked every dollar of Stephen’s “sponsorship.” It wasn’t just tuition and meal plans. There were receipts for limited-edition Chanel bags, haute couture dresses, and the deed to a luxury penthouse in the arts district. The total expenditure was ten times the amount he had given me for our household budget over our entire five-year marriage. He made me account for every single dollar I spent on groceries. He audited my life. But he was bleeding millions for another girl without batting an eye. A laugh bubbled up in my throat. I laughed until I was gasping for air, the tears hot and heavy on my cheeks. I closed the file, grabbed my car keys, and drove straight to Stephen’s corporate headquarters. Inside his private executive suite, there was a locked drawer in his mahogany desk. I had known about it for years, but I never once tried to open it. I thought it was his boundary. The last shred of privacy a ruthless businessman needed to stay sane. Looking back, my respect for his boundaries was just pure delusion. I called a discreet locksmith and had the drawer popped open in minutes. There were no classified merger documents inside. No corporate espionage files. There was just a smartphone. The exact same model I had bought for his birthday. My heart hammered against my ribs. I typed in his birthdate. The phone unlocked. The wallpaper hit me like a physical blow. It was Willow, smiling brightly in that damn sunflower field. There was only one contact saved in the messaging app. The name was just “My Willow.” The chat history dated back four years. It was a daily, unbroken stream of consciousness. “Mr. S, I got the Dean’s List! Let me buy you dinner?” “Keep your money. If you want something, just put it on the black card.” “Mr. S, I miss you.” “I know.” “Mr. S, all my roommates went home with their boyfriends for the holidays. I feel so alone.” “Send me your live location.” I scrolled down. My eyes locked onto a screenshot of a digital boarding pass. Departure: Our city. Destination: The college town. Date: Our wedding anniversary. Every single one of his curt, stingy text replies was backed up by immediate, overwhelming financial and physical devotion. But when it came to me? His vocabulary was limited to “No time,” “In a meeting,” and “Stop nagging.” I tapped into the photo gallery. It was a shrine to Willow. Candid shots, coffee shop dates, late-night study sessions. Every image was saturated with the glow of youth. The most recent photo was taken yesterday. Willow was standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror, draped in a breathtaking, custom white wedding gown. She looked deliriously happy. The caption read: “Mr. S says the second I get my diploma, he’s putting a ring on it.” Yesterday. While I was agonizing over the floral arrangements for his victory dinner, he was playing groom at a bridal boutique. The blood in my veins turned to ice. This wasn’t just an affair. He was plotting a complete hostile takeover of my life. He was going to replace me. My fingers violently trembling, I backed out of the gallery and clicked on a hidden, password-protected folder. I bypassed it using the anniversary date he supposedly forgot. Inside was a perfectly drafted, legally binding divorce agreement. The asset division was crystal clear. I would be walking away with absolutely nothing. An ironclad, scorched-earth expulsion. Every single one of his assets, including the very mansion I was currently living in, was scheduled to be transferred into a trust under the name “Willow.” At the bottom of the last page, Stephen’s signature was slashed across the screen in bold, arrogant ink. The sight of it burned my retinas. The execution date on the contract was exactly one month from today. Our upcoming sixth anniversary.
4 I sat frozen in his leather chair like a marble statue for hours. I didn’t move until the city skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows faded from gold to pitch black. Finally, feeling returned to my stiff fingers. I took out my own phone, snapped high-resolution photos of the drafted divorce agreement, and then meticulously locked the drawer back exactly as I found it. I didn’t cry. I didn’t smash his monitors. My chest was a hollowed-out cavern. A dead sea. There is a specific kind of numbness that comes when your heart completely stops fighting. That was where I was. Since he had already paved the road to my ruin, throwing a hysterical fit would only make me look pathetic. But I wasn’t going to let him execute his little exit strategy without a fight. Stephen Croft, you owe me a debt, and I am going to collect it in blood. I didn’t drive back to the empty mansion. Instead, I merged onto the interstate and drove three hours straight to the college town. I needed to see this Willow in the flesh. I needed to see what kind of dark magic she possessed. According to the file, she lived in the luxury penthouse Stephen had bought her. I parked my car across the street from her high-rise and waited in the dark. I sat there from sunset until midnight. Finally, the sleek silhouette of a familiar Bentley pulled up to the curb. Stephen stepped out of the driver’s side. He walked around the hood and opened the passenger door with a gentlemanly grace I hadn’t seen in years. Willow stepped out. She was wearing a stunning white sundress and carrying the latest season Chanel flap bag. She looked radiant. She naturally looped her arm through Stephen’s, stood on her tiptoes, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for today, Mr. S.” Stephen hated being touched in public. He despised PDA. Yet, he didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he lifted his hand and gently, almost reverently, tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Get some sleep,” he murmured. His voice carried a warmth I hadn’t heard since our honeymoon. In that split second, a primal urge told me to slam my foot on the gas, T-bone the Bentley, and watch the world burn. But my rational brain slammed the emergency brakes. I watched Stephen get back into his car and drive away. Willow turned and skipped into the lobby of the luxury building. I didn’t follow her. I picked up my phone and dialed a private investigator I kept on retainer for my own business ventures. “Run a deep background check on a man named Victor Blackwood. Real estate magnate operating out of this county.” I hung up, slunk lower into my leather seat, and kept my eyes glued to the lobby entrance. My intuition was screaming at me. Something was profoundly wrong. If Willow was just some poor college student he was keeping on the side, Stephen wouldn’t go to these extremes. Drafting a scorched-earth divorce? Liquidating and transferring his entire portfolio? The risk exposure was astronomical. It defied every fundamental rule of his ruthless business logic. Unless Willow was holding the keys to something much, much bigger. Half an hour later, the headlights of a black Mercedes G-Wagon swept across my windshield. It parked exactly where Stephen’s Bentley had been. A middle-aged man in a tailored suit stepped out and walked directly into the penthouse lobby, swiping his own keycard. My phone buzzed. A secure file dropped into my inbox. It was the dossier on Victor Blackwood. Fifty years old. Real estate titan. Attached was a surveillance photo. It was the exact same man who had just walked into the building. I scrolled down to the family registry section at the bottom of the file. Only child: Daughter. Uses mother’s maiden name. Name: Willow. The inside of my car suddenly felt like a sensory deprivation tank. A bomb detonated in my skull. Willow wasn’t a foster kid! She was the heiress of Stephen’s biggest corporate rival in his latest mega-merger! The viral thank-you letter. The graduation photo. The watch intentionally flashed for the camera… It wasn’t a fairytale romance. It was a meticulously engineered psychological trap! A trap designed exclusively for me. They had studied my marriage. They knew how deeply I craved Stephen’s affection, and how starved I was for his validation. They dropped breadcrumbs, knowing I would follow them, knowing I would completely unravel and initiate a catastrophic fallout with my husband. If we entered a vicious, highly publicized divorce, Stephen’s assets would be frozen in litigation. His cash flow would hemorrhage. Victor Blackwood would swoop in and steal the multi-billion-dollar merger right out from under him. It was a textbook corporate assassination. Cold sweat drenched my spine. My hands were shaking against the steering wheel. I had spent the last twenty-four hours drowning in the agony of a betrayed wife, only to realize I was nothing but a pawn on a billionaire’s chessboard. It was pathetic. It was brilliantly, horrifically pathetic. I slammed the car into drive and ripped the steering wheel hard to the left.
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The moment I stepped through the door, I heard vicious cursing echoing from the living room.
“Eat! Hurry up and eat! This dog food costs more than anything you’ve eaten in your entire life. Don’t be ungrateful!”
My heart tightened. I rushed into the living room and the scene before me made my blood boil.
My father-in-law, who had just undergone heart bypass surgery, was curled up on the cold floor, his face deathly pale.
The butler my wife Isabelle had hired at great expense, Marcus Snow, was wearing my clothes, one foot pressing down on my father-in-law’s shoulder, holding a reeking dog bowl and forcefully shoving it at the old man’s mouth.
“Marcus! Are you insane!”
I immediately rushed over and knocked the dog bowl out of his hands. The foul-smelling dog food splattered all over him.
Marcus jumped up in rage, pointing at my nose and cursing.
“What’s your problem? How dare you splash me?”
He brushed at the stains on his clothes with disgust, then glanced contemptuously at my father-in-law collapsed on the floor.
“I was just teaching this old country bumpkin some manners! Your wife said I’m in charge of this house! These crude country folk are full of bad habits. Letting him eat dog food is already doing him a huge favor!”
His face was full of contempt, without a shred of guilt. In fact, he seemed to think his actions were perfectly justified.
I trembled with rage, my nails digging into my palms.
My father-in-law was Victor Sterling, one of the top financial powers in the capital, and Isabelle’s biological father!
Normally, Isabelle didn’t even dare breathe loudly in front of him. Now he was being stepped on and force-fed dog food by a butler!
I was about to explain my father-in-law’s identity when Marcus sneered and kicked him hard in the chest.
“Stop pretending! You haven’t finished mopping the floor!”
The kick was brutal.
My father-in-law grunted, clutching his chest. His face instantly turned from white to purple.
His throat made wheezing sounds like a broken bellows as he curled into a ball in agony, unable to form a complete sentence.
“Victor!”
I threw myself forward and grabbed hold of my father-in-law.
His heart couldn’t handle this kind of shock. His whole body was convulsing violently.
I frantically searched his pockets for his emergency heart pills.
But Marcus grabbed my hair and yanked me backward:
“Stop putting on this sob story for me! You country people love drama. Trying to scam us, are you?”
He pulled out his phone and started recording me and my father-in-law:
“Hey everyone, you won’t believe what I’m dealing with today. This is the poor husband who married up to Miss Sterling. Not only is he covered in germs, but now he’s learned to fake illness to extort money.”
When Isabelle married me years ago, a penniless country boy, her whole family objected.
After the wedding, my status in this mansion was lower than a servant’s. Even the butler dared to lord over me.
I endured the tearing pain in my scalp and slapped Marcus hard across the face.
“Smack!”
The crisp sound echoed through the living room. “Shut up! If something happens to him, even Isabelle can’t save you!”
Marcus held his rapidly swelling cheek, his eyes turning venomous:
“How dare you, you worthless freeloader! Guards! Throw these two beggars out!”
Two burly bodyguards immediately rushed in from outside.
These were men Isabelle had specifically assigned to Marcus, supposedly to protect her lifesaver.
Isabelle trusted this butler to her core, even giving him authority over the household security.
“Let go of me! Are you blind! Look carefully at who he is!”
I struggled desperately, but the bodyguards pinned me to the ground on both sides.
The head bodyguard sneered without even glancing at my father-in-law:
“Mr. Mitchell, Miss Sterling instructed us that all household rules follow Mr. Snow’s orders.”
They roughly hauled up my ailing father-in-law. His head lolled limply, his lips already turning dark blue.
“You’ll regret this! When Isabelle comes back and sees how you treated him, she’ll make you wish you were dead!”
I screamed in despair.
Marcus walked up to me and ground the pointed toe of his leather shoe into the back of my hand.
The piercing pain made me gasp.
” Mitchell, do you really think you’re some kind of wealthy son-in-law? Isabelle already told me—you’re just a useless waste taking up space. Once I fully gain Isabelle’s trust, you and your poor old man will both be sent back to the countryside to farm.”
He kicked my hand away contemptuously and waved at the bodyguards:
“Drag this old bastard to the outdoor pool! Today I’ll teach you both a lesson on behalf of Miss Sterling!”
“Touch him and see what happens! I’ll fight you all today!”
Like a crazed beast, I broke free from the bodyguards’ grip and bit down hard on the head bodyguard’s wrist.
The taste of blood instantly filled my mouth.
The bodyguard cried out in pain and backhanded me with a punch, knocking me to the ground. My mouth hit the edge of the coffee table, blood seeping from the corner of my lips.
“What are you waiting for? Lock these two paupers in the backyard. No one opens that door without my permission!”
Marcus shrieked furiously.
The two bodyguards stopped being polite. They dragged and hauled me and my father-in-law to the outdoor pool in the backyard.
With a heavy thud, the thick double glass door was locked tight.
It was December in the capital. Outside, heavy snow was falling, and the temperature was near ten degrees below zero.
My father-in-law was only wearing thin house clothes. Now he was curled into a ball, shaking like a leaf in autumn wind.
“Nathan, my… my chest hurts so much…”
My father-in-law weakly extended his bony hand and gripped my clothes tightly.
His voice was so faint it was barely audible, his breathing growing more rapid.
I hurriedly stripped off my down jacket and wrapped it tightly around my father-in-law.
“Victor, hang on. I’ll call an ambulance right away!”
I fumbled with trembling hands for the phone in my pocket. It was empty.
I jerked my head up. Through the transparent glass door, Marcus was smugly waving my phone.
Inside, the heat was set to seventy-nine degrees. He wore designer house clothes stolen from my closet, lounging comfortably on the sofa.
“Want your phone? Beg me.”
He pressed the intercom button. His mocking voice rang out over the backyard:
“Nathan, where’s that backbone you had when you hit me? Didn’t you say Isabelle would kill me when she got back? I’d like to see who freezes to death tonight.”
I rushed to the glass door and pounded on the frame:
“Marcus! Please, I’m begging you! Give me the phone! My father-in-law really has heart disease. He’ll die!”
I pounded until my hands were red.
Marcus leisurely peeled an imported cherry and popped it in his mouth:
“Heart disease? Pretty convincing act. You old bastards from the sticks are tougher than cockroaches. One night in the cold won’t kill you.”
My father-in-law’s face had turned from dark blue to deathly pale. His eyes were rolling back.
His hand clutching his chest gradually loosened, his body sliding down limply.
“Victor! Victor, wake up!”
I completely broke down. I turned to the intercom and screamed:
“Marcus! The medicine is in the black bag on the living room sofa! Give me the medicine! Whatever you want, I’ll agree to it!”
Marcus paused for a moment.
He walked to the sofa, pulled out the black bag, and took out a white medicine bottle.
“Well, well. There really is medicine.”
He shook the bottle through the glass, his lips curling into a malicious smile:
“If you want the medicine, it’s not impossible. Kneel down now. and shout ‘I’m a country bumpkin’ three times. Then I’ll slide the medicine through the door crack.”
I looked at my dying father-in-law. Without any hesitation, I dropped to my knees on the freezing tiles.
My knees hit the hard ice, the pain piercing. But I couldn’t care about that.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“I’m a country bumpkin! I’m a country bumpkin! I’m a country bumpkin!”
I shouted at the top of my lungs, my voice especially desolate in the wind and snow.
“Can you give me the medicine now?” I stared hopefully at the medicine bottle in Marcus’s hand.
But Marcus suddenly clutched his stomach and burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he was nearly in tears:
“Nathan, you really are an obedient dog. Too bad—I suddenly changed my mind.”
Right in front of me, he unscrewed the cap of the medicine bottle.
Under my confused and horrified gaze, he poured the entire bottle of life-saving emergency heart pills into the nearby trash can.
“Oops, my hand slipped.” Marcus covered his mouth affectedly. “You country people are tough. You can survive a night in the cold, right?”
“Isabelle, you’re finally back! Nathan’s poor father brought an infectious disease and even hit me!”
The door suddenly burst open. Isabelle walked in, bringing a blast of cold air with her.
Marcus immediately dropped his arrogant expression. Covering his swollen cheek, he hurried forward,
“I just asked his father to take a bath, and his father…”
He stopped mid-sentence deliberately, looked down at the barely visible red mark on his hand, and forced a bitter smile:
“Forget it. I shouldn’t have meddled. After all, I’m just a butler. Getting hit is my own fault.”
Isabelle was the only daughter of the Sterling family. Years ago, she rejected all the wealthy young men in the capital to marry me, a penniless nobody.
After moving into the Sterling family mansion, my status plummeted while her need to control the household grew daily.
My already desperate heart suddenly sparked with a glimmer of hope at the sight of Isabelle.
I frantically pounded on the glass door, making dull thuds.
“Isabelle! Open the door! Save Victor! He’s having a heart attack!”
I dragged my father-in-law, numb from the cold, to the door, trying to let Isabelle see his face clearly.
But the glass was covered with thick frost. She couldn’t see the figure outside at all.
She didn’t even turn her head, looking at Marcus with distress in her eyes.
“What happened? Who hit you?”
Marcus lowered his eyes, his voice hoarse:
“It’s nothing, Isabelle. Really nothing. Just broke the skin a little. Not worth getting upset over.”
My eyes widened as I stared at the barely visible red mark on Marcus’s finger.
It was clearly from when he’d accidentally scratched himself on a cherry pit earlier.
Isabelle’s expression instantly darkened, her eyes filled with murderous intent.
She turned toward the backyard, her gaze as cold as a poisoned blade:
“Nathan, I usually tolerate you out of marital consideration, but you actually brought your poor father here to cause trouble? And you dared to hurt Marcus?”
I shook my head frantically, my voice already hoarse from shouting:
“Isabelle, are you blind! That’s not my father—that’s your real father, Victor Sterling! He just had heart surgery. He’s dying. Please open the door!”
Isabelle laughed mockingly, as if she’d heard the joke of the century. She pressed the intercom, her voice dripping with disdain:
“Nathan, if you’re going to lie, at least make it believable. My father is recuperating in Switzerland. How could he possibly appear here dressed like a beggar? To protect your poor father, you’d tell such a lie. You disgust me.”
She turned to the bodyguards behind her, her tone ice-cold: “Open the door.”
I thought she was finally going to let us in. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief.
But Isabelle’s next words plunged me into hell.
“Throw these two paupers into the snow outside. Don’t let their poverty stink up my carpet.”
The bodyguards immediately opened the door. A bone-chilling wind mixed with snowflakes rushed into the living room.
They roughly grabbed my arms and dragged me and my father-in-law toward the front door.
“No! Isabelle, you can’t do this!” I clung desperately to the doorframe, my nails leaving bloody scratches on the wood.
“If you throw him out today, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life!”
Isabelle held Marcus close, looking down at me without a trace of warmth in her eyes:
“The biggest regret of my life was marrying you, this disgraceful country man. Marcus is my lifesaver. Anyone who dares touch a hair on his head—I’ll take their life.”
The bodyguard gave a hard shove and kicked me into the snow.
My father-in-law was thrown down beside me. The iron gate slammed shut in front of us.
I crawled over and held my father-in-law. His body was already stiff, his breathing barely perceptible.
The snow fell harder and harder, quickly piling thick layers on us.
Through the mansion’s enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see Isabelle carefully putting a band-aid on Marcus’s finger.
Marcus let her fuss over him. His gaze passed through the glass and landed on me, his lips curling into a malicious, cold smile.
I held my father-in-law tightly, my heart feeling as though an invisible hand had crushed it.
“Isabelle, you threw him in the snow today. Tomorrow you’ll be begging on your knees for him to live.”
“Still howling like ghosts out there? Pour cold water on him! Wake him up!”
Isabelle’s cruel voice came through the yard’s loudspeaker.
Immediately after, two bodyguards appeared on the second-floor balcony.
A basin of dirty water mixed with ice chunks poured down from above, landing precisely on me and my father-in-law.
With a tremendous splash, the ice water instantly stole what little body heat we had left.
My father-in-law’s body convulsed violently, then his head lolled to one side. He went completely still.
“Victor! Victor!”
I shook my father-in-law frantically, but he kept his eyes closed. Even his faint breathing had disappeared.
His heartbeat had stopped.
In that moment, something in my brain snapped completely.
I suddenly stood up, grabbed a decorative brick from the snow, and smashed it frantically at the smart lock by the front door.
Sparks flew. The alarm shrieked through the night.
The bodyguards inside were startled. They instinctively opened the door to stop me.
I seized the opportunity and rammed my head into a bodyguard’s chest, snatching his walkie-talkie and backup phone.
With trembling hands, I dialed emergency services and hoarsely screamed out the address.
“Come save someone! The patient has no heartbeat! Hurry!”
Ten minutes later, an ambulance screeched to a stop in front of the mansion.
A paramedic grabbed a defibrillator and rushed out. “Where’s the patient?”
I crawled and stumbled toward them, pointing at my father-in-law in the snow:
“Over here! Please save him!”
The doctor was about to crouch down to examine him when the mansion door opened again. Isabelle walked out with Marcus, her face dark.
“Who gave you permission to come in?”
Isabelle strode forward and blocked the paramedic:
“Doctor, check Marcus’s hand first. He just had a shock and his finger is bleeding. It needs immediate treatment.”
The doctor glanced at Marcus’s finger with its cartoon band-aid, completely speechless:
“Ma’am, that elderly gentleman is in cardiac arrest! This is a life-or-death situation!”
Isabelle snorted coldly, glancing dismissively at my father-in-law in the snow:
“Some country old man. If he dies, he dies. How precious can he be? I’m the young mistress of Sterling Group. I order you to examine Marcus immediately!”
Just as the doctor hesitated and I prepared to fight Isabelle, a deafening roar suddenly came from the night sky.
Three black helicopters bearing the Sterling family crest tore through the wind and snow, circling above the mansion.
The powerful airflow made the surrounding tree branches sway wildly.
Isabelle paused, then her face filled with smugness.
She thought this was the high-end private medical service she’d specially booked to please Marcus.
“Marcus, look. The helicopter I called for you is here.”
Isabelle took Marcus’s hand and walked proudly toward where the helicopter was landing.
Marcus was even more excited, his face flushed. He glanced at me arrogantly:
“Nathan, see that? This is what wealth looks like. A poor man like you will never experience it in your lifetime.”
The helicopter landed steadily. The cabin door opened.
A team of fully armed black-clad bodyguards and top medical experts in white coats filed out.
Isabelle eagerly stepped forward, pointing at Marcus: “Thank you all for coming. The patient is—”
She didn’t finish her sentence.
From my father-in-law’s inner pocket, I pulled out the dark jade thumb ring that represented absolute power in the Sterling family.
I stood up. Facing the helicopter’s blinding searchlight, I held the ring up before Isabelle’s eyes.
“Isabelle, open your eyes and look carefully at who you just threw out!”
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I downed a drink and my body started burning up. Someone must have drugged me.
I stumbled around looking for my boyfriend Ethan Smith, but at the bar I overheard his conversation with someone else.
“I don’t believe in ‘well-matched families’âI only believe in myself. Yara, I swear I’ll make you the future Mrs. Smith.”
“As for Lila, after tonight, videos of her acting like a slut will spread all over the internet. From then on, I’ll have her wrapped around my finger.”
Everything went black. This was the man I’d loved for three years.
With nowhere else to turn, I shakily dialed my uncle Lucas Brown’s number.
“Lucas, I’ve been drugged. I feel terrible…”
There was a moment of silence on the other end, then his deep, magnetic voice came through.
“Send me your location… Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”
Under the dizzying lights, I was roughly shoved onto a soft couch.
My head was spinning, my mouth was dry.
It felt like a wildfire burning inside my body.
Without thinking, I started tearing at the neckline of my dress, desperate for a breeze to cool my burning skin.
I longed to press against someone’s cool skin to ease this unbearable heat.
“Well, well, little slut, can’t wait anymore?”
“I’ll take care of you right now…”
A stranger’s voice exploded in my ear, instantly shocking me back to my senses.
Something was wrong.
I’d been drugged!
Today was my twentieth birthdayâwho would want to destroy me like this?!
A strange man pressed down on me, shamelessly tearing at my dress.
I bit my lip hard until I tasted blood, which brought me a moment of clarity.
Grabbing a bottle opener from the table, I used all my strength to smash it against his forehead!
A muffled groan.
The man clutched his head as blood seeped through his fingers.
I shoved him away and fled, clutching my torn dress.
Call the police? Noâin my current state, they’d just think I was some girl whose hookup got out of hand. I’d never be able to explain.
Go home? Even worse. It would only make my parents worry and break down.
The drug’s effects were getting stronger. I steadied myself against the wall and staggered out of the bar.
The cold air made me shiver, but the fire inside me burned even fiercer.
Right now, I had only one option.
My uncle Lucas, who’d just returned from a mission.
Lucas’s place wasn’t far from here.
He was Dad’s closest comrade-in-arms, ten years older than me.
But… he’d just returned from an overseas mission. We hadn’t seen each other in almost a year.
And he was such a disciplined man, filled with that steely military bearing.
If he saw me like this…
Behind me, Ethan’s cursing and footsteps faintly approached.
He’d figured out my intentions from the private room.
“Think you can run? Yara, quick, don’t let her get away! The phone’s still recording!”
Yaraâthe girl I’d always thought was my best friendâsounded thrilled.
I couldn’t worry about anything else. Gritting my teeth, I plunged into the night.
With trembling hands, I pressed the doorbell.
Almost instantly, the door opened.
His unique scent hit meâclean and crisp like a pine forest after snow.
I stood at the door, nervously watching the tall, imposing figure before me.
After a year, Lucas’s features were even sharper than I remembered, devastatingly handsome with an aggressive edge. High nose bridge, thin lips pressed tight.
The moment our eyes met, I couldn’t help but shudder.
My blood ignited like gasoline, exploding with a rush. A tingling itch seeped through my entire body.
Every inch of me felt like it was being gnawed by ants.
I clutched at my damaged dress in agony. When I spoke, my voice was so soft it could drip water: “Lucas, I feel terrible, so hot…”
Lucas, usually cold as an iceberg, stared at me intently. His dark pupils reflected my current disheveled state.
Flushed face, misty eyes, clothes in disarray.
Utterly… debauched.
The door slammed shut.
He pulled me into the room with one motion.
The instant our skin touched, the cool sensation of his arm made me release a satisfied sigh.
My strength drained away as I hung onto him.
Instinctively, I nuzzled against him, desperately seeking that precious coolness.
Outside the door, I heard Ethan’s pursuit: “Strange, where is she? I just saw her run into this building!”
Lucas held me with one arm while picking up his phone with the other, his voice cold as ice: “Hello, police? Someone’s causing a disturbance in the military family residential area.”
Up close, I could hear the suppressed tremor in his throat.
After a few sentences, he hung up.
Soon, sirens sounded below, and Ethan’s voice disappeared.
The danger had passed.
But I was still in Lucas’s arms, clutching the front of his combat uniform, burrowing into his embrace.
Greedily absorbing his coolness.
His toned waist from years of training held a fatal attraction.
And lower…
A suppressed groan.
My hand was firmly pressed down by his burning palm.
My heart was racing.
In an instant, everything spun. My dress fluttered.
Lucas carried me to the bed with gentle, controlled movements, though his eyes looked like they wanted to devour me alive.
He extended his slender hand, checking my forehead.
His Adam’s apple bobbed violently: “Lila, you’re burning up…”
“Don’t move, I’ll get a thermometer!”
I shook my head in discomfort.
The drug’s effects left me unbearably restless. I could only plead with him tearfully: “Lucas…”
“I… want… I need…”
Lucas looked at me, his throat tight.
His fingertips, calloused from years of handling weapons, touched my wrist.
That rough texture made my heart itch.
A moment later he released my hand, his breathing unstable as he leaned in close.
His unique masculine scent flooded my nostrils, his tall frame casting a shadow over me.
And I melted like spring water under his presence.
“Lila, you’ve been drugged.”
“What a massive dose!”
“Don’t be afraid, I’ll buy medicine… otherwise it’ll cause permanent damage to your nervous system.”
His hoarse voice entered my ears, stirring my desires.
I had no mind for his words. All my attention was on his thin lips moving up and down.
Pale in color, yet utterly tempting.
Just a slight lift of my head, and I could kiss them.
I swallowed, reaching my arms around Lucas’s neck.
From his suddenly constricting pupils, I saw myself with hair cascading like a waterfall across the white pillow.
Looking exactly like a little temptress.
Completely different from my usual quiet, obedient self.
When I spoke, my voice carried a seductive tone.
“Lucas, I… want…”
Lucas held my waist with one hand.
His other hand caressed my face.
Every movement made my heart tremble.
His eyes were filled with desire too.
“Lila, do you know who I am?”
“I know, you’re Lucas.”
“Good girl. Whatever you want, I’ll give you.”
Morning light pierced through the curtain gaps, falling on my face.
A hangover-like headache.
Last night’s memories flooded back like a tideâfragmented yet crystal clear.
Lucas’s burning body temperature, his suppressed gasps, and my shameless demands.
My cheeks instantly burned. I sat up abruptly from the bed, nearly drowning in shame.
The room was empty.
The air still held traces of his crisp pine scent and the tobacco he’d smoked.
He was gone.
My heart felt inexplicably hollow.
On the nightstand sat a glass of warm water and a packet of pills. A note was tucked underneath.
Sharp handwriting with forceful strokesâhis military bearing showed through.
“Take the medicine when you wake up. Rest well.”
On the chair back hung a brand-new dress and underwear, tags still attached.
My face burned even hotter.
I fled from Lucas’s place and returned to school.
The moment I stepped through the campus gates, I sensed something was wrong.
The surrounding gazes were like poisoned needles, densely piercing my body.
Those whispers were like countless buzzing flies, drilling into my ears.
“Look, that’s her. Lila.”
“I heard she went wild at the bar last night, with several guys…”
“Ethan really got unluckyâhis girlfriend’s so shameless.”
My blood turned ice-cold, inch by inch.
Ethan had moved faster and more ruthlessly than I’d imagined.
I clenched my fists and quickened my pace, just wanting to get back to my dormâmy only refuge.
But as soon as I reached the building, a crowd blocked my path.
Leading them was Ethan.
He had dark circles under his eyes, a conspicuous bandage on his forehead, looking haggard.
Beside him, Yara was supporting him with a face full of concern. When she saw me, triumph flashed through her eyes.
Ethan looked at me like I was something filthy, his eyes full of disgust and anguish.
He pointed at me, his voice trembling with emotion, as if he were the victim.
“Lila! How dare you show your face here?”
The crowd exploded, all eyes focused on me.
I watched his pathetic performance coldly.
But he seemed wounded by my gaze. He stepped forward abruptly, screaming hysterically:
“You spent last night screwing around with some random guy, and you have nothing to say?”
“I loved you so muchâis this how you treat me?”
“I’ve already told the teacher. The school must severely punish a morally corrupt student like you!”
Every sentence was like a poisoned dagger, precisely stabbing into my heart.
The pointing and gossiping around me became a suffocating net.
I felt cold all over, trembling with rage.
This was the man I’d loved for three yearsâtwisting facts, utterly shameless.
Under everyone’s gaze, I actually calmed down.
Facing his hypocritical expression, I curved my lips into an icy smile.
“Oh? Really?”
“Then let’s call the police.”
The moment I spoke, the air seemed to freeze.
Ethan’s face turned the color of liver, clearly not expecting this from me.
The crowd’s whispers exploded like salt thrown into hot oil.
“Call the police? She dares call the police?”
“She’s guiltyâtrying to scare people with threats.”
Just then, a middle-aged woman with glasses pushed through the crowd. It was our advisor.
She looked at me with angry disappointment, her gaze severe.
“Lila! Come with me to the office!”
The teacher’s appearance was like a shot of adrenaline for Ethan.
He immediately put on a heartbroken expression, pointing at me with a tearful voice.
“Professor, you came just in time! I never imagined Lila was this kind of person. I’m… I’m so disappointed in her!”
Yara beside him immediately chimed in, saying quietly to those around: “Ethan’s just too kindâthat’s why she could deceive him so badly.”
Working together, they nailed me to the pillar of shame.
The teacher’s expression grew worse. She looked at me like I was hopeless trash.
My heart sank inch by inch into an icy abyss.
So this was what it felt like to be unable to defend yourself.
Just as the invisible pressure was about to crush me, a voice as cold as ice cut through all the noise.
“Who’s taking her away?”
The crowd automatically parted.
A tall figure walked toward us against the light, military boots making steady, powerful sounds on the ground. Each step seemed to land on everyone’s heart.
It was Lucas.
He wore a crisp military uniform, his shoulder insignia gleaming gold in the sunlight. That handsome, sharp face was covered with frost, his gaze like a blade sweeping across everyone present.
The noisy crowd fell instantly silent.
The smugness on Ethan’s face froze.
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I’m the daughter of Alpha James of the Moonridge pack.
The Moonridge pack has a traditionâall of the Alpha’s descendants, regardless of gender, must conceal their identity and never reveal their family background.
Only the first descendant to conceive a child earns the right to return home and become the Alpha’s heir.
I was the first in the entire family to get pregnant.
The moment I found out about the pregnancy, I was so excited that I ran home without even putting on my coat.
With this child, I could finally stop hiding my current difficult life from my husband Ethan.
And his struggling small company wouldn’t have to worry about next month’s rent anymore.
But when I got home and pushed open the door, I found Ethan kissing another woman on the sofa.
So the sudden painful feeling I had when approaching my front door came from Ethan’s betrayal.
Ethan held his half-dressed first love Zoey and looked at me.
“Zoey’s back. Let’s break our mate bond.”
I shoved the pregnancy test back into my pocket.
What he didn’t know was that his poor wife who had suffered alongside him had an unimaginably wealthy and powerful Alpha father behind her.
Fine. I’ll keep the child and leave the father. Goodbye forever.
“Let’s get divorced first.”
“The divorce papers are on the table. The pen’s right there too.”
Ethan’s tone was flat.
Zoey slowly straightened her clothes. Her neck was covered in intense kiss marks.
She sat in my usual spot, glanced at me, and curved her lips slightly without saying anything.
As if she were the lady of this house.
I walked over and picked up the agreement. Three pages, densely written.
The house goes to Ethan. Company shares go to Ethan. Savings go to Ethan. Car goes to Ethan.
I get nothing.
“I don’t get a single cent?”
Ethan finally glanced at me. “The agreement mentions compensationâthirty thousand dollars. That’s not bad.”
Thirty thousand. I’d been married to this man for three years. Ten thousand per year.
Zoey set down her coffee cup. “Emily, with thirty thousand you can rent a decent studio.”
I stared at her. “When did you get back?”
“Yesterday.” Zoey tilted her head. “Ethan picked me up at the airport. He waited four hoursâmy flight was delayed.”
Yesterday.
Yesterday Ethan told me he had to work overtime at the company.
Zoey stood up and walked to Ethan’s side, naturally hooking her arm through his. “Ethan said you’re a good person and won’t make things difficult for me.”
Ethan didn’t pull away from her hand.
My phone pressed against the pregnancy test in my pocket, digging painfully into my thigh.
I’d planned to come home and tell himâEthan, we’re having a baby.
You won’t have to lose sleep over rent every month anymore. You won’t have to humble yourself drinking with clients until you get a bleeding ulcer.
I thought today would be our best day.
“Where’s the pen?”
Ethan pointed at the coffee table.
I crouched down to get the pen. From this angle, I could see Zoey’s hand resting on Ethan’s waist.
As I opened the pen cap, the pregnancy test nearly slipped out of my pocket. I quickly pressed it back.
“Sign on the last page. Write today’s date.” Ethan’s voice came from above.
I signed my name. Emily. Put down the pen and stood up.
“Fine. The agreement needs to go through the court to take effect.”
“Tomorrow morning at nine. I’ll come find you. We’ll break the mate bond then too.”
After Ethan finished speaking, he pulled out his phone and unlocked it right in front of me, opening his contacts.
He changed my contact name from “My Dear Wife” to Emily.
Then he closed his phone and put it back in his pocket.
Zoey leaned on his shoulder. “Ethan, I want to eat your homemade pasta.”
“Okay, I’ll make it right now.”
Ethan actually turned and went into the kitchen. In three years, he’d never once cooked for me.
I’d asked him if he knew how to cook. He said no, said he couldn’t even fry an egg without burning the pan.
Now he tied his apron more smoothly than he tied his shoelaces.
Zoey shrugged at me. “Emily, don’t just stand there. Hurry up and take what you need. Tomorrow I’m having people come redecorate. I looked at your clothesâthey’re all pretty old. Don’t bother taking them. They’re not even good enough to use as rags.”
I went back to the bedroom and grabbed my important documents and a cloth bag containing a few things I’d brought from home when I got married. Nothing related to Ethan.
On my way out, I passed the kitchen. Ethan was cutting tomatoes, the knife thudding on the cutting board. He didn’t look up.
At the door putting on my shoes, Zoey followed and leaned against the doorframe.
“Emily, I don’t know if I should say this.”
“Go ahead.”
“Ethan never sighed when he was with me. In these three years with you, I’ve heard him sigh many times on the phone.” She lowered her head, her voice soft. “Maybe you two really aren’t compatible.”
I looked at her. Ethan sighed because of broken capital chains, lost clients, the company nearly going under.
Every crisis was one I carried him through behind the scenes. After he sighed, by the next morning when he woke up, the problem would be solved. He thought it was good luck.
“You’re right.” I bent down to tie my shoelaces. “We’re not compatible.”
The moment the door closed, Zoey’s voice came from inside.
“Ethan, let’s change the door code. I want to set it to the anniversary of our first time having sex.”
I moved into a studio near the university that rented for three hundred dollars a month.
Next door was a restaurant. Cooking fumes seeped in through the window cracks.
I sat on the hard bed and stared at the pregnancy test for a long time. The two lines were piercingly clear.
My phone rang. Ethan.
“Emily, you haven’t canceled the company’s secondary card yet.”
“I’ll do it when we go to court tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Just as I was about to hang up, Zoey’s voice came from his end. “Ethan, does she still have the company access card? I saw one in her bag last time.”
Ethan paused. “Bring the access card too.”
“Anything else?”
“That’s all for now.”
He hung up. The phone screen was still lit, the chat background still showing the coffee photo from the day Ethan and I started dating, with our two silhouettes making heart shapes beside it.
Ethan and I first met at a coffee shop.
I was working as a barista at the coffee shop. Ethan came in to order, and the moment our eyes met, we realized we were each other’s fated mates.
We fell in love at first sight. In the following days, Ethan kept coming to the coffee shop where I worked to buy coffee. When I wasn’t there, he’d look disappointed.
Back then, I was also secretly watching him with his sincere eyes. So within a few days, Ethan and I got together.
After we got married, Ethan started his business. He said he would definitely give me a good life.
But now it seemed those vows were completely unreliable.
And Ethan had no idea just how wealthy my family really was.
He only knew that his wife worked as a barista at a coffee shop, earning three thousand dollars a month.
For three years of marriage, I’d maintained this persona.
Early the next morning, Ethan’s mother Lily called.
“Emily, are you done packing?”
“I’m packing.”
“Don’t bother with those clothes of yoursâthey weren’t anything good to begin with. Also, those pickles you used to make at homeâZoey says they taste pretty good and wants the recipe.”
I’d made pickles for three years. Ethan ate them every day. My mother-in-law had never once complimented them.
“I’m not giving it.”
“What kind of person are you?” Lily’s tone immediately changed. “You’re already divorced and you’re still being petty. Do you know who Zoey is? Her asking for your pickle recipe is doing you a favor.”
“What kind of person is she?”
“Zoey’s parents run an international trading company. Do you think everyone’s like you making coffee at a coffee shop?” Lily lowered her voice.
“Emily, I’ll be honest with you. I was never really satisfied when I let Ethan marry you. You’ve been diligent these three years, but people climb upward. Ethan’s company is slowly taking off now, and you can’t keep up.”
“Zoey is Ethan’s first love. They were always a perfect match. She came back from abroad. Don’t get in the way.”
Last year, Ethan nearly went bankrupt over a bad debt and couldn’t even pay his employees’ salaries. That month, I used my dad’s connections to recover that bad debt.
Ethan thought the other party had a change of heart and voluntarily repaid.
He was so happy when he came home that day. He hugged me and said, “Honey, we’re so lucky.”
“I’m not giving the pickle recipe. Is there anything else you need to ask?”
Lily hung up angrily.
Half an hour later, Ethan sent a message: My mom says your attitude was bad. We’re already breaking the mate bond. Don’t make this uglier than it needs to be.
I didn’t reply.
I turned my phone face down on the bed and touched my belly.
In three months my belly would start showing. By then I’d return home and take my place as the Alpha’s heirâthe only descendant who successfully conceived.
Ethan’s painstakingly managed company was worth three million. In the Moonridge pack, that didn’t even rank.
I was about to break the mate bond with Ethan soon. I was afraid the rejection would affect the baby in my belly, so I used my family’s connections to find a witch who had a good relationship with my dad and got a potion from her that would prevent harm to the fetus during rejection.
The next day, Ethan and I registered our divorce at the hospital and broke our mate bond.
Afterward, I went to the hospital to register for prenatal care. While waiting after registration, my phone rang again.
Zoey, calling from Ethan’s phone.
“Emily, sorry to bother you. I found a bottle of folic acid in your old bedroom. I wanted to ask if it’s yours or if it was left in the house from before?”
Folic acid. That was what I’d been taking while trying to conceive.
I gripped my phone tightly.
“Throw it away. It’s expired.”
“Okay. By the way, Ethan asked me to ask youâwhen will you cancel the secondary card?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Great, bye.”
She hung up. My hand was trembling. Not from anger, but from fear.
Zoey found the folic acid.
“Will she guess something?” I stared at my phone, talking to myself. No one answered.
The day my prenatal checkup results came out, I sat on a bench in the hospital hallway in a daze.
The doctor said everything was normal. The baby was healthy. I needed to pay attention to nutrition and rest.
The baby is healthy. I repeated those words three times.
“Emily?”
I looked up. Zoey stood at the end of the hallway holding a bag of fruit.
She smiled and walked over. “What a coincidence. You came to this hospital too?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Visiting a friend.” She sat down next to me and casually glanced at my hands.
I turned the prenatal report face down, but her eyes had already caught something.
“Obstetrics?” Zoey’s tone changed, no longer that sweet enthusiasm.
She stared straight at my face.
“Emily, don’t tell me you’re…”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Pregnant?”
I stood up. “Zoey, this isn’t your concern.”
“Of course it’s my concern.” She also stood up. “If it’s Ethan’s child, then it is my business.”
People were coming and going in the hallway. She lowered her voice and moved closer to me.
“Emily, are you planning to hide this from everyone and have the baby? And then whatâuse the child to threaten Ethan?”
“I don’t need to threaten anyone.”
“But Ethan won’t want this child.” Zoey’s tone was matter-of-fact. “He said his children need to be born into a complete family. The family he chose doesn’t include you.”
“He told you that?”
“He tells me everything.” Zoey pulled out her phone and played a voice message.
Ethan’s voice came from the phone: Zoey, after we get through this busy period, we’ll have a proper wedding. We’ll figure out the rest later. Just settle in for now.
“Did you hear that? He’s already planning our wedding. If you run out now with a baby, everyone will just think you’re being clingy.”
I took a deep breath.
Zoey watched my reaction, seeming to confirm something.
“Emily, I have a suggestion. Go find a witch, terminate the pregnancy, and we’ll all go our separate ways. I won’t tell Ethan, and I won’t tell anyone.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll tell him. What do you think he’ll do when he finds out?”
She pulled an envelope from her bag and handed it to me.
“What’s this?”
“Open it and see.”
Inside the envelope was an ultrasound report with Zoey’s name at the top, dated two weeks ago.
It clearly stated: Intrauterine early pregnancy, 7 weeks.
“I’m pregnant too.” Zoey put away her smile and looked at me seriously. “Ethan already knows. He’s thrilled. He bought a ton of pregnancy supplies.”
“So do you understand now? His first child can only be born from me.”
I stared at that ultrasound report.
Seven weeks pregnant. Zoey just returned to the country yesterday. Seven weeks ago she was abroad. This ultrasound report had the stamp of our pack’s maternity hospital.
The timeline didn’t match.
But I didn’t say anything. Now wasn’t the time to expose her.
“Think about it.” Zoey patted my shoulder. “Before things get out of hand.”
She turned and left.
I clutched that ultrasound report.
You say you’re pregnant too. Seven weeks ago you were abroad, but your ultrasound has the Moonridge pack’s stamp.
“Zoey, what exactly are you?”
The next day at ten in the morning, Ethan appeared at the door of my rented studio.
“I know.”
He stood outside, his expression complexânot quite angry, more like a condescending helplessness.
“Know what?”
“About your pregnancy. Zoey told me.”
She didn’t keep her promise after all.
Ethan walked in and looked around the roomâless than a hundred square feetâand frowned.
“Emily, what are you planning to do with this child?”
“Have it.”
“Have it and then what?” His voice rose slightly. “You make three thousand a month. You can barely support yourself.”
“You don’t need to worry about my business.”
“I’m worried about my own business.”
Ethan sat on the only plastic chair, hands clasped together. “Zoey’s pregnant too. You know that, right? She’s earlier than youâalready seven weeks.”
“She showed me the ultrasound report.”
“Right.” Ethan nodded. “I’ll be direct. My first child should be with Zoey. Yours isn’t appropriate.”
“Ethan, are you sure you want me to abort your child?”
“We’re already divorced. Even if this child is born, it’ll be a single-parent family. That’s not good for anyone.” He stood up. “Terminate it. I’ll pay for the procedure and recovery costs. Is fifty thousand enough?”
The door was pushed open from outside.
Lily.
She walked in carrying a plastic bag and looked around.
“This is where you’re living?” Lily set the plastic bag on the table. “There’s twenty thousand dollars in there for the abortion. With Ethan’s thirty thousand, that’s fifty total. Enough for you to start fresh.”
“I said I’m keeping the child.”
Lily’s face darkened.
“Emily, don’t be ungrateful. You know what Zoey’s family is like. She’s Ethan’s legitimate wife. You’re carrying a bastard…”
“This isn’t a bastard. It’s Ethan’s child.”
“If my son doesn’t acknowledge it, then it isn’t.” Lily’s voice got louder. “Do you think having a baby means you can cling to our family?”
Ethan didn’t stop his mother. He leaned against the wall looking at his phone.
“Emily, I’ll say this one last time.” Ethan didn’t look up. “Terminate the pregnancy and we’ll part on good terms. If you don’t, I’ll go to court and request a paternity test to fight for custody. I have a house and a company. You have nothing. The court will award me the child.”
“And then I’ll give the child to Zoey to raise.”
Let Zoey raise my child.
That sentence was like a knife, stabbing in precisely.
Lily pushed me. “Did you hear that? Don’t think pregnancy gives you leverage. You’re nothing in front of us.”
Ethan’s phone screen lit up. A message from Zoey popped up. I caught a glimpse of the text:
[Ethan, did you handle it? I bought your favorite cheesecake.]
Ethan replied, locked the screen, looked up at me, waiting for my answer.
Lily stood to the side with her arms crossed, like a supervisor.
I touched my belly.
This child would be the next Alpha heir of Moonridge pack after me. The child the entire pack had waited over a decade for.
Ethan wanted to fight for custody? He had no idea who he was challenging.
I pulled out my phone and found a number I hadn’t called in three years.
I dialed. It was answered after one ring.
“Dad, come get me. I’m pregnant.”
Ethan and Lily both looked at me.
My dad’s voice came through the phoneâcalm, but every word carried undeniable weight.
“Give me twenty minutes.”
He hung up.
Ethan frowned. “Who did you call?”
“My dad.”
Lily scoffed. “Your dad? Didn’t you say your dad was farming in the countryside? You’re calling some old farmer to back you up?”
I put my phone back in my pocket.
“Ethan, you just said you’d fight for custody.”
“Right.”
“Fine. Then wait.”
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When I got home and pulled back the covers, I found seven used condoms scattered across the bedsheet.
At the bedside, my husband Ethan Hart gave an awkward laugh.
“If I told you I used these while masturbating, would you believe me?”
Suddenly, the closet door opened, and a woman tumbled out, falling to the floor.
She wore only Ethan’s white dress shirt, her body covered in dark red kiss marks.
She gave an awkward laugh too.
“Aria, if I told you I was here to clean, would you believe me?”
I also gave an awkward laugh, though my face was deathly pale.
“And if I said I don’t believe you?”
Aria POV
When I returned to our marital home, Sofia was already asleep in the master bedroom. My master bedroom with Ethan.
She was wearing my nightgown and my slippers. The bedside lamp was dimmed to her liking.
Ethan stood at the bathroom door, a warm towel in his hands, ready to give it to her.
This was the same apartment where Ethan had once pressed the keys into my palm. “Now you have a place that’s yours,” he said.
Now, he let another woman lie in my bed, then turned to me and said, “Sleep in the guest room tonight.”
I stood in the doorway, still holding work materials I’d just brought back from out of town.
A pair of women’s shoes sat by the entrance. In the shoe cabinet, my shoes had been pushed to the very edge.
A shawl that wasn’t mine draped over the living room sofa.
I took it all in as I walked through, finally seeing Sofia sitting on the bed’s edge, adjusting the hem of the nightgown as if making sure I could clearly see whose things these were.
“Aria, don’t misunderstand.” Sofia spoke first, her voice so soft it seemed she’d suffered some great injustice.
“I really didn’t dare sleep alone tonight. Ethan was worried something might happen to me, so he let me rest here first.”
Yet as she spoke, she made no move to get up from the bed.
I looked at Ethan.
Ethan didn’t explain the nightgown or the slippers.
He placed the warm towel on the nightstand, his brow slightly furrowed. ”
Sofia’s not doing well tonight. She’s familiar with the master bedroom lamp, so sleeping here will help her feel more secure.”
I said nothing.
Ethan continued. “Years ago, because of me, she got trapped in an old building during a power outage for an entire night. You know she’s afraid of the dark and being alone. Tonight’s situation is special, so just sleep in the guest room for one night.”
Sofia lowered her head, fingers gripping the corner of the comforter. “Maybe I should just leave. I’m afraid Aria won’t be happy.”
She said she’d leave, but her body leaned against the bed, her feet showing no sign of wanting to remove the slippers.
Ethan immediately looked at me. I knew that look well. This past month, whenever Sofia said she was scared, he’d look at me exactly like this.
I pulled my materials closer to my chest and nodded. “Understood.”
Ethan actually froze. He seemed to have prepared many words. Ready to explain how pitiful Sofia was, ready to say he was just temporarily taking care of her, ready to tell me not to overthink it.
But I didn’t ask.
I turned and went to the guest room.
The guest room hadn’t been occupied in a long time. The closet only held spare bedding, the window frame hadn’t been fixed, and it was cold when the night wind seeped through.
I placed my materials on the nightstand and bent down to take out the comforter from the closet.
The first time I moved into this apartment, Ethan had also given me the master bedroom.
Back then, I’d just severed ties with my family and stood downstairs with my luggage, not even daring to go up in the elevator.
Ethan pressed the house keys into my hand and said, “Don’t stand outside waiting for permission anymore. You have a place here too.” That night he slept on the couch. From that day on, I started treating this place as home.
Now the master bedroom door was closed.
Inside, I could hear Ethan’s lowered voice coaxing Sofia.
“Don’t be afraid, I’m here.”
“The lamp’s already brighter.”
“Sleep now, I won’t leave.”
I closed the guest room door too.
In the middle of the night, Sofia called for Ethan again from the master bedroom.
She complained the bedside lamp was too dim, that the curtain gaps looked like dark shadows seeping in from the old building, that the pillow was too high and made her feel she couldn’t breathe.
Ethan responded to her. The sound of footsteps in the hallway kept reaching my ears.
I lay in the guest room, waves of pain washing through my stomach. I pulled out my pill box and swallowed painkillers with half a glass of cold water. The tablet stuck in my throat, the bitter taste taking a long time to go down.
Before long, someone knocked twice on the guest room door.
“Aria.” Ethan stood outside. “Are you asleep?”
I leaned against the headboard, a layer of cold sweat on my forehead. I didn’t open the door, only said, “I’m asleep.”
Silence outside for a few seconds. Ethan’s voice lowered. “Are you upset?”
From the master bedroom, Sofia called softly again. “Ethan…”
Ethan immediately turned back. I heard his footsteps fade away. He finally just tossed out one sentence through the door. “Get some rest.”
I only fell asleep as dawn approached.
When I woke again, the master bedroom door was half open.
Sofia still slept inside while Ethan sat at the bedside looking at his phone, warm water and medicine beside him.
Sofia turned over, and Ethan immediately put down his phone, leaning in to ask where she felt uncomfortable.
I didn’t go in.
I gathered my materials in the living room when my phone suddenly lit up.
The person in charge of the old town project sent a confirmation email, asking if I was certain about accepting the two-year old residence restoration project.
The early phase required closed access to the site, with long-term stationing afterward, making frequent returns to my current city impossible.
I looked at it for a long time.
In the master bedroom, Sofia’s voice was hoarse. “Ethan, am I causing you trouble again?”
Ethan said, “No, don’t overthink it.”
I lowered my head and opened the reply box. I typed only one sentence: “Confirmed.”
After sending the message, I put the project materials in my bag, pressing my ID documents at the very bottom. The sound of the zipper closing was soft. Neither of the two people in the master bedroom looked back.
Aria POV
As a child, the phrase I feared most was: This isn’t your home.
I’d lived in other people’s smallest rooms and in rental units where the locks changed once a year.
Later in the dorms, I still didn’t dare fill the space with my belongings. I feared I’d have to leave soon.
I was always the one who needed something from others. I couldn’t even decide where to put my own cup.
Then Ethan gave me keys. He let me have the master bedroom and cleared out half the walk-in closet.
The lamp in the living room was my choice. The spot I usually sat at the dining table was one Ethan had personally made space for.
He’d complain I was troublesome, yet always let people arrange things my way. I decorated this apartment bit by bit to make it feel like home. I thought I’d finally never be pushed outside again.
In the first month after Sofia returned, Ethan said she was only staying temporarily for a few days.
Sofia had just ended a failed relationship and had the trauma from that old building power outage years ago.
Whenever her emotions broke down, she’d call Ethan. That incident happened when she and Ethan were still together.
Ethan had canceled on her last minute, and Sofia waited for him alone. Later she got trapped in that old building all night.
All the lights went out, the stairwell door wouldn’t open, and she cried until dawn before anyone found her.
Since then, she’d been afraid of the dark, afraid of enclosed spaces, and afraid of Ethan not answering her calls.
Every time she brought up these things, Ethan would fall silent.
Initially, I agreed to let her move in. I thought she’d only stay a few days. But I discovered her belongings were invading my space.
The next morning at breakfast, Sofia still wore my nightgown as she sat at the dining table. She picked up the milk, took only one sip, then put it down.
“Ethan, the pillow in the master bedroom was too hard last night. It made my neck hurt. And that scent in the bathroom isn’t nice. It always reminds me of the old building.”
Ethan’s movements paused as he looked at me.
I put down my fork. “What would you like to change?”
Sofia froze, then smiled.
“Aria, thank you for understanding. Can I put my usual things in the master bathroom first? Also, can I put my own clothes in the master bedroom closet? It’s inconvenient fetching clothes every day. Could you clear out some space for me?”
Ethan frowned. “Sofia, you’re only staying temporarily.”
Sofia’s eyes immediately reddened. She lowered her head, gripping her spoon, her voice trembling.
“I know. I shouldn’t have brought this up. Last night, every time I closed my eyes, I was back in that old building. I just want to sleep soundly.”
After speaking, she stood up to leave. “I’ll move out today. It’s all my fault for causing you both trouble.” The chair made a soft sound as she pushed it back.
Ethan’s expression changed. “No one’s asking you to move.”
Sofia stopped, tears hanging at the corners of her eyes. Ethan looked at me. “Clear out some of the less-used items in the closet and make a temporary spot for her.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
This time Ethan looked at me again. His gaze held both testing and discomfort.
After all, in the past, if I asked even one extra question about Sofia, he’d think me petty.
Now that I wasn’t asking anything, he seemed almost stuck instead.
I went back to the walk-in closet and took down my clothes from the master bedroom area.
I didn’t just take old clothes. The clothes I’d acquired over these years with Ethan, I packed them all in boxes too.
At the very back of the closet was a set of loungewear Ethan had bought me.
That year I had a fever but still wanted to go to the office. Ethan pressed me back into bed, had his assistant send the files home, and stayed with me half the day.
Later he noticed the cuffs on my pajamas were frayed. He said nothing, but the next day had new loungewear delivered.
Back then, I truly believed Ethan cared about me.
Downstairs, Sofia, wearing my nightgown, was asking the housekeeper which shelf in the master bathroom she could use for her things.
I carefully folded that loungewear set and placed it at the very bottom of the box. I didn’t cry or throw anything. I just pushed the box into a corner of the guest room.
When Ethan came in and saw the box by the wall, his steps paused. “Why did you pack away so many clothes?”
I was organizing project materials and didn’t look up. “The master bedroom needs more space, so I packed them all away.”
“If you have an issue with Sofia moving in, you can say so directly.”
I looked up at him. Ethan frowned at my gaze, his tone hardening. “Her situation is special. You know full well she ended up like this because of me. Don’t read too much into it.”
“I know.” I put the project contract in a document folder. “She’s been through trauma. She should have better accommodations.”
Ethan fell silent. He seemed unwilling to have me agree with him so readily.
I fastened the document folder and reminded him. “Sofia’s still waiting for you downstairs.”
After those words, Ethan’s expression completely darkened.
That evening, the project manager sent me a materials checklist.
Starting next week, I’d head to the stationed location and needed to visit the old town site in advance.
I stuffed my ID into my bag and put the project contract in the outermost pocket.
I went to find an old design drawing in the master bedroom. Passing the master bedroom door, I heard Sofia inside asking, “Will Aria mind me staying here?”
Ethan paused. Then he said, “She’ll understand. She won’t make a fuss over something like this.”
I stood outside the door, my hand still on the doorknob. A few seconds later, I released it. I didn’t retrieve the old design drawing.
I returned to the guest room, opened my phone, and purchased a ticket to the old town. Seven in the morning. Purchase successful.
Aria POV
After Sofia moved in, the apartment no longer felt like my home.
Her cup appeared on the dining table, her toiletries in the master bathroom, and even the throw pillows on the living room sofa had been replaced.
I used to tidy up every day by habit.
Now I only glanced at things as I passed. I stopped organizing those items and stopped asking questions.
When Ethan came home, he finally noticed the changes in the living room and asked, “Why were these things changed?”
Sofia immediately put down her cup, her eyes reddening first. “Did I cause trouble again? I just felt the original colors were too dark. They reminded me of the old building. If Aria doesn’t like it, I’ll have someone change everything back right away.”
I immediately said, “No need. Keep what you like.”
Ethan looked at me, his brow furrowing deeper.
That afternoon, Sofia directly invited several mutual friends to the apartment. She didn’t ask me or Ethan.
When the housekeeper brought out desserts, she sat in the living room greeting friends, as if she’d always been in charge of this home.
When a friend entered and saw her in loungewear, then noticed her coming down from the master bedroom direction, someone quickly teased her. “Sofia, you act way too much like you’re in your own home, don’t you?”
Sofia smiled, pressing her lips together, but her gaze drifted toward the stairs.
I happened to be coming down with project materials. All eyes in the living room suddenly fell on me.
Sofia seemed to just notice me and quickly explained.
“Aria, don’t get the wrong idea. I’m only staying temporarily for a few days. Ethan was afraid I’d be scared alone at night, so he insisted I stay in the master bedroom.”
She stressed the words “master bedroom” just lightly enough for everyone to hear.
Someone laughed awkwardly. “Aria’s really generous. Anyone else would’ve made a scene by now.”
I didn’t expose her scheme or explain who was actually staying in the master bedroom. I put my materials in my bag and only said to Sofia, “These are your guests. You entertain them properly.” Then I turned and went upstairs.
Ethan entered through the front door just in time to hear those words. His expression darkened. He called Sofia aside, lowering his voice. “Who told you to bring people into this house?”
Sofia’s tears fell quickly. “I just hadn’t seen friends in so long. I wanted them to know I’m not doing as badly as they think. Is Aria upset? Then I’ll move out right now.”
She brought up the old building again. She said living alone made her lose sleep. She said last night when she closed her eyes, the darkness still pressed down so she couldn’t breathe.
Ethan irritably pinched the bridge of his nose but didn’t mention kicking her out again.
I stood at the stair landing, listening to everything, but didn’t go down.
My phone lit up. The project manager asked if I could go to the old town earlier to check the site.
I replied directly: “I’ll go tomorrow.”
That evening, Ethan knocked on my door holding a restaurant reservation. “Let’s go out for dinner tomorrow night.” He said, “Things have been chaotic at home lately. I want to have a proper talk with you.”
I looked at the reservation and nodded. I didn’t tell him the seven o’clock morning ticket had already been issued.
That night, Sofia called for me again at the master bedroom door. “Aria, I think I left my medicine in the bathroom cabinet.”
Sofia leaned against the doorframe, her face pale. “I don’t dare go in alone. If something happens to me, Ethan will worry.”
I said nothing but eventually entered the master bathroom.
The floor was wet. The aromatherapy bottle sat at the edge of the sink.
Just as I bent down to pull open the cabinet, Sofia suddenly rushed in from behind, her whole body colliding into me.
My lower back hit the sink, my arm sweeping the aromatherapy bottle. Glass shards exploded, cutting my skin.
Sofia screamed and tumbled right into Ethan’s arms as he rushed in.
Ethan’s first reaction was to steady her. “Are you hurt?”
Sofia clutched his arm, crying and trembling. “I just wanted to get my medicine. I didn’t know Aria was also in there…”
I steadied myself against the sink, blood from my arm dripping down my fingertips.
Only then did Ethan see me. His expression changed.
Aria POV
Just after dawn, I left the apartment with a small suitcase.
I didn’t call Ethan or say goodbye at the master bedroom. The master bedroom door was half open, Sofia still sleeping inside. Ethan sat by the bed watching over her, pulling the covers up over her. As I passed the doorway, he didn’t look up.
I put the ticket in my bag. The wound on my arm had been simply treated, my lower back still aching. I walked slowly but didn’t stop.
Around noon, Ethan seemed to notice I’d left.
I received a call from him.
When the call connected, I was already on the train.
Ethan’s voice held suppressed anger. “Where did you go?”
“The old town.” I leaned against the train window. “The project moved up. I came to see the site first.”
“What about your arm and lower back?”
“Already treated.”
“You went out of town alone with injuries?” Ethan’s tone grew heavier. “Come back right now. I’ll pick you up.”
The sound of a door opening came from the master bedroom. Sofia’s voice sounded weak. “Ethan, I woke up and didn’t see you… I had another nightmare.”
Ethan’s breathing hitched. I heard it. I spoke first. “Take care of her. You don’t need to come find me.” After speaking, I hung up and put my phone on silent.
That afternoon, I arrived in the old town. The project manager took me to the restoration site. Police tape surrounded the courtyard, the old walls already showing reinforcement marks, staff moving materials.
The manager said, “We’ll be here at least two months in the early phase. If you sign a long-term contract later, you won’t be able to go home often. You can still back out now.”
I looked at the old residence before me, my arm throbbing faintly. I said, “I won’t back out.”
The manager noticed my bandaged arm and saw I walked somewhat unnaturally. “Do you need to go to the hospital first?”
“No need.” I set down my bag. “Let’s do registration first.”
When the registration form was handed to me, the staff member pointed to the emergency contact field. “It’s best to fill in family here. The site has risks. If something really happens to you, we need to contact someone responsible immediately.”
I held the pen and paused.
The staff reminded me again. “A spouse works too.”
I didn’t write Ethan’s name. I filled in the project office phone number in that field.
The staff glanced at it. “You’re sure you won’t fill in family?”
“I’m sure.”
I handed back the form and received the housing keys.
That evening, I received another call from Ethan. I’d just gotten the housing keys and was organizing materials in my room.
Ethan opened with, “The master bedroom has been dealt with. What happened last night won’t happen again. Come back tomorrow and let’s talk things through.”
I looked at the keys in my hand. “I just joined the team here. I can’t come back in the short term.”
“That’s not where you belong long-term.” Ethan’s voice hardened. “Home is.”
I placed the housing keys on the table. “I’ll be staying at the project site for this period.”
Silence on the other end. Sofia’s voice came through again. “Ethan, could you come look? I don’t know where to put the new things.”
I didn’t wait for Ethan to respond. I ended the call and closed the door. The keys remained on the table. The sound of the lock falling echoed clearly in the empty room.
Aria POV
I returned to the apartment the next day to get that old design drawing from the study.
I’d originally planned to grab it and leave, but when my car reached the station, Ethan’s driver was already waiting. The driver opened the car door for me, saying quietly, “Mr. Hart asked me to bring you home.”
I didn’t make things difficult for the driver and bent down to get in. Ethan sat inside the car. Seeing the gauze on my arm and how my lower back stiffened when I sat down, his expression immediately darkened.
“Injured this badly, and you still want to leave home?”
I looked out the window. “I need to submit the old design drawing to the project team.”
Anger threaded through Ethan’s voice. “Let’s go eat first. I still have last night’s restaurant reservation.”
I didn’t refuse. I knew Ethan wanted to turn the master bedroom and bathroom incident into a small conflict that could be resolved over one meal.
The car didn’t go directly to the restaurant. Ethan brought me back to the apartment first. “Sofia’s not here today,” he said. “Take your time packing things. No rush.”
I entered the master bedroom and my steps halted. Things here had been changed. The spot in the bathroom that used to belong to me was cleared out, Sofia’s frequently used items displayed in the most prominent places. A section of the walk-in closet had also been emptied, hung with Sofia’s clothes.
Ethan stood behind me. “This is just a temporary arrangement. She’ll move out once her condition stabilizes.”
I nodded, walked to the drawer, and took out the old design drawing. I didn’t touch the bed or the closet.
Ethan frowned. “You really don’t mind at all?”
I put the old design drawing in a document folder. “Since it’s already been changed, let her use it.”
Ethan was about to speak when the doorbell rang downstairs. Sofia entered with several mutual friends.
Seeing me, she froze for a moment, then quickly smiled.
“Aria’s here too? I just invited friends over to visit. I didn’t expect you’d be back today.”
As she spoke, she’d already naturally had the housekeeper serve coffee to the friends.
The friends saw her enter the master bedroom with familiarity, and someone soon laughed. “Sofia, you’re way too familiar with this place.”
Sofia lowered her head with a smile. “I haven’t been doing well lately. Ethan didn’t feel comfortable with me living alone, so he let me stay here for a few days. At night I’m afraid of the dark, so he comes to check on me too.”
Those friends’ gazes landed on my face. Someone immediately said, “Aria’s so gentle, not even minding something like this.”
I didn’t explain that I was the actual owner of this place. I simply yielded the living room, saying to Sofia, “These are your guests. Entertain them well.”
Ethan stood at the doorway, his expression already very dark. He called Sofia aside. “Have them leave immediately.”
Sofia’s eyes reddened. “I just wanted them to know I’m not suffering alone. If you make them leave now, what will they think of me?”
Ethan’s voice grew colder. “This isn’t your home.”
Sofia seemed pierced by those words, her face going white instantly. “I know.” She said quietly, “Then I’ll just move out. Anyway, if I go back alone, no one will care about me at night.”
Ethan fell silent.
I’d heard their conversation. But I simply put the document folder in my bag, preparing to leave.
Ethan followed me to the door. “The restaurant’s already booked.”
I glanced at the living room. “You don’t have time right now.”
“I can leave with you.”
Sofia immediately stood up, her face pale. “Ethan, you’re leaving now? They’re all here. I was already embarrassed enough just now.”
A friend also tried to lighten the mood. “Yeah, don’t make things so awkward.”
Ethan’s steps stopped in place.
I spoke first. “Restaurants are available anytime. I have things to do, so I’m leaving first.” After speaking, I had the driver take me to the station.
As the car left the complex, the project manager sent the long-term housing contract. I opened it and looked for a long time.
Ethan’s message also popped up at that moment. He said Sofia was just emotionally unstable, told me not to misunderstand, and said he’d handle it later.
I didn’t reply. I signed the contract. A few seconds later, the project manager sent official notification: “Report for duty in five days.”
I put down my phone. Outside the car window was the city I’d lived in for many years. I didn’t look back toward the apartment.
Aria POV
I returned to the apartment a third time. This was my last trip back to retrieve physical materials.
Home furnishing company workers were going in and out of the master bedroom, movers carrying cabinet panels, another person supporting a mirror coming out of the walk-in closet.
Sofia sat on the bed’s edge, directing the housekeeper to send her clothes inside.
She smiled smugly. “Aria, don’t overthink it. I’m only staying temporarily. If things are messy I can’t sleep well, so Ethan had people adjust things slightly.”
I looked at Ethan. Ethan avoided my gaze. “I’m just redistributing the space. I won’t touch your important items.”
I said nothing and went directly to the study. After retrieving my materials and preparing to leave, Sofia stopped me. “There’s a box of your things in the closet. I don’t know where to put it. You should check it yourself.”
I didn’t turn back. “Put it in the guest room.”
Sofia’s voice immediately lowered. “I don’t dare move your things carelessly. Last time with the bathroom incident you already got hurt. I’m afraid I’ll do something wrong again this time.”
Ethan looked at me. He wanted me to go in and take a look, to end this matter.
I eventually still entered the walk-in closet. Inside was no longer the familiar layout I knew.
My frequently used spot had been moved to the very back, several old pieces of clothing packed in a box with a temporary label stuck beside it.
Old items Ethan once wouldn’t let anyone touch now lay piled on the floor, waiting to make space for Sofia.
Ethan walked in, his expression finally darkening. “Stop.” He told the workers.
Sofia immediately looked at him.
Ethan said coldly, “This was originally Aria’s space. It shouldn’t be changed like this.”
Sofia’s tears fell quickly. “I didn’t know these things were so important to Aria. If she’s uncomfortable, I’ll move out right now.”
Ethan didn’t immediately comfort her, only saying, “You go out first.”
Sofia stood without moving, tears streaming down continuously. “I’ve only been able to sleep well these past few days. Turns out me staying here still makes all of you this miserable.”
I suddenly spoke. “Don’t stop.”
Ethan looked at me. I walked over and picked up the box of old items. “I was going to take my things anyway.”
Ethan reached out to stop me. I went around him.
The workers prepared to move the tall cabinet beside them. Sofia stood next to the cabinet and suddenly called out softly, “Ethan, I feel a bit dizzy.”
Ethan looked over immediately.
I passed by carrying the box. Sofia fell toward Ethan, her elbow hitting the edge of the tall cabinet.
The cabinet hadn’t been properly secured, and with this collision, it tilted outward along with the mirror.
Ethan barely hesitated before reaching out to shield Sofia behind him.
I stood on the other side, no time to dodge.
The cabinet corner struck hard against my shoulder and back, mirror fragments slicing across my arm as I fell to the ground.
The box opened, old items scattering everywhere.
That old keychain also rolled out, landing beside the broken mirror.
The scene descended into chaos. Sofia was protected in Ethan’s arms, crying and asking, “Ethan, are you hurt?”
Only then did Ethan see me on the ground. His expression changed. He released Sofia and quickly crouched down. “Aria!”
I braced myself against the floor to sit up, avoiding his hand. My arm still bled, my shoulder and back hurt so much I couldn’t lift them, yet I first picked up the old keychain and put it in my pocket.
Seeing that keychain, Ethan’s movements stopped. That was what I’d attached when he gave me the first house key years ago.
Ethan’s voice sounded. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”
But Sofia sat down nearby, clutching her chest. “Ethan, I can’t quite catch my breath. I might have been scared just now.”
Ethan’s steps halted.
I saw it. I pressed my wound and stood up. “You take care of her first. I’ll go by myself.”
Anger threaded through Ethan’s voice. “You’re injured this badly and you’re still pushing me away?”
I looked at him. “She needs you more right now.”
Sofia called for him softly again.
I’d already walked out of the closet and called my own car. I went to the hospital alone.
After the doctor treated my wound and examined my shoulder and back, he reminded me not to carry heavy objects recently.
When I came out with the medical record, the project manager called, asking if I could report on time in five days.
I glanced at my bandaged arm. “Yes.”
Ethan’s call came through at that moment. I didn’t answer. I put the medical record in my bag and went to the project team.
The project manager told me the housing room had been cleared and I could move in early anytime.
I nodded. “Then I’ll move in early.”
Aria POV
I moved into the old town project housing early.
The room wasn’t large. Just a bed, a table, and a wardrobe. The door card was in my own hand, and the registration form had only my name on it.
I placed project materials on the table and pushed my suitcase against the wall.
The suitcase didn’t hold much. A few commonly worn clothes, two contracts, and the old design drawing I’d brought from the apartment.
The jewelry and evening gowns Ethan had given me, I didn’t take a single piece.
When the project manager took me to the site and saw my arm still wrapped in gauze, he asked, “Is your body holding up okay?”
I hung the work badge around my neck. “I’m fine.”
When Ethan found me here, I was verifying restoration materials with project personnel.
I stood among the crowd, my arm not raised high, my shoulder and back still aching, yet I could already clearly communicate every issue with people.
When I finished communicating, Ethan walked over. “I want to talk to you.”
I didn’t avoid him. I followed him outside the courtyard.
Anger threaded through Ethan’s voice. “Why did you suddenly move here? Because I protected Sofia first that day?”
I looked at him. “The project started early. I joined the team per contract.”
“You’re injured, living alone in a place like this, is that appropriate?”
“The project has safety procedures.”
“Who did you put as emergency contact?”
I paused. “Not you.”
Ethan’s expression changed. “Aria Winters, we haven’t separated yet. If something happens to you, the project team can only contact me.”
“You won’t need to be bothered with these things in the future.”
Those words were soft, yet harder to hear than an argument.
Ethan fell silent for a long time, finally lowering his voice. “I’ll handle things at the apartment. The master bedroom will be restored. I’ll arrange for Sofia to move out.”
I asked, “Where will you arrange for her to go?”
Ethan stopped. He seemed not to expect me to ask so directly. “I’ll find another place and arrange someone to stay with her.”
I nodded. “That sounds good.”
My reaction was too calm, as if I were hearing about someone else’s affairs.
Frustration showed in Ethan’s eyes. “Are you still blaming me?”
I didn’t answer. I took the old keychain from my pocket and handed it to him. “I found this in the closet. I should return it to you.”
Ethan looked at the keychain, his fingers freezing.
That year when I stood downstairs with my luggage, too afraid to enter, he’d pressed the keys and keychain into my hands together, telling me not to stand outside waiting anymore.
I’d kept this keychain for many years. Now it was covered in dust, the edges still stained with blood from that day in the closet that hadn’t been wiped clean.
Ethan didn’t take it. “That was for you.”
I placed the keychain in his palm. “That home needs to be rearranged now. There’s no point in me keeping it.”
Ethan’s voice deepened. “The apartment won’t become Sofia’s home.”
I looked at him. “She moved into the master bedroom, the closet was changed, and she invited friends to visit. These things already happened.”
Ethan was blocked from speaking. After a long while, he finally said, “I’ll take you back tonight and have her move out.”
His phone rang at that moment. Sofia’s name appeared on the screen.
Ethan didn’t answer immediately. I glanced at it. “Answer it. She might need something.”
Ethan hung up directly. “Today I’m handling your matters first.”
The call came through again quickly. She kept calling Ethan. His expression grew uglier, until finally he answered.
Sofia cried breathlessly on the other end. “Ethan, I can’t turn on the light. The room’s so dark, like that old building back then… I can’t find my medicine. Can you come?”
Ethan’s brow furrowed sharply as he immediately asked if the door was open, if anyone was nearby. Sofia cried that she didn’t dare move and could only wait for him.
After hanging up, Ethan looked at me. “Her condition might really be acting up.”
I nodded. “You should go.”
Ethan opened his mouth, as if wanting to say he’d come back after handling this. I’d already turned and entered the project courtyard. The gate closed behind me.
Aria POV
Ethan didn’t return to the old town that night.
The next day, he sent me a message saying Sofia’s condition was unstable, the temporary housing wasn’t suitable for her, and he’d make new arrangements. I read it but didn’t reply.
I was busy at the project site until evening when the project manager reminded me, “If you’re staying here long-term, you’d better handle things back home in the next couple days. In a few days this place will be closed, making it inconvenient to leave.”
I returned to the apartment that night. I told Ethan in advance I was only coming back for half an hour to get things and he didn’t need to come back.
But when I entered, Sofia’s voice came from the master bedroom. Sofia hadn’t moved out.
She was having the housekeeper hang several pieces of clothing back in the closet.
Seeing me, she first showed surprise, then quickly smiled.
“Aria, why did you suddenly come back? Ethan wasn’t comfortable with me living alone, so he had me come back and stay for a few days.”
I didn’t engage, walking straight to the study.
Sofia followed. “He originally wanted to explain personally but was afraid you’d overthink it, so he told me not to say anything first.”
I packed materials into my bag.
Sofia’s voice lowered, finally unable to hide her smugness. “Actually, who gets to stay in this home is ultimately Ethan’s decision.”
I stopped and looked at her. “What exactly are you trying to say?”
Sofia stepped closer. “Last night after Ethan came back, he kept looking at that old keychain. What he can’t let go of isn’t you, it’s the convenience of having someone take care of him.”
I looked at her without letting her drag me into an argument. “If you really want to stay, hold onto him tight. And stop making him run to my side.”
Sofia’s expression changed. She immediately caught up.
“But he still brought me back to the master bedroom in the end, didn’t he? He says he’ll arrange for me to move out, but in the end he softens.”
I zipped up my bag. “The master bedroom, the house, Ethan, you can have it all if you want.”
I finished speaking and went downstairs.
When Ethan rushed back to the apartment, I’d nearly reached the door. Seeing Sofia still at home, his expression immediately darkened. “Go back to the master bedroom. Don’t come out.”
Sofia tried to explain. This time Ethan gave her no chance to speak.
I said, “I’ve got my things. I’m leaving.”
Ethan caught up and grabbed my suitcase handle. “I’ll handle this properly.”
I looked at his hand.
Ethan’s voice tightened. “If you want the original master bedroom, I’ll have it restored. If you think this apartment is tainted, I’ll get a new one. If you mind the property rights, I’ll have a lawyer come over right now.”
These words sounded sincere. But they all revolved around the house.
I only said, “I’m living at the project site now. I don’t need a new house.”
Ethan’s eyes reddened, pushed by my refusal. “Then what exactly do you want?”
“Let go.”
“Aria, do you have to make a scene?”
I looked at him. “What are you talking about?”
Ethan froze.
“I didn’t kick Sofia out, didn’t stop you from taking care of her, and didn’t force you to return the master bedroom to me.” I gripped the suitcase handle. “I’m just moving out.”
With those words, Ethan’s fingers stiffened.
Suddenly Sofia’s urgent voice came from upstairs. “Ethan! The door won’t open!” Her voice trembled, as if she’d cry the next second.
“I went into the small storage room next to the master bedroom. There’s no light inside… Ethan, I can’t breathe!”
Ethan’s expression changed. He instinctively released the suitcase handle and turned to run upstairs. The housekeeper and maintenance staff followed. The living room quickly emptied.
I lowered my head to look at the finally released suitcase handle. I didn’t wait for Ethan to come back and explain, nor did I go upstairs to see if Sofia was really trapped. I dragged my suitcase out the door and got in a car.
As the car left the complex, Ethan sent a message. He said Sofia really had been trapped just now, told me to go back to the project site first, and he’d come find me later.
I glanced at it but didn’t reply. I took the apartment access card from my bag and put it in an envelope. By the time the envelope was sealed, the car had driven far away.
Aria POV
When I finished tidying the housing room, a box still sat against the wall. Inside were old items I planned to send back to the villa.
Ethan rushed to the old town that afternoon without bringing Sofia or having his driver follow inside.
He stood outside the project site. I wore my work badge, verifying restoration progress with the project manager.
After I finished working, Ethan spoke. “Let’s have a proper talk tonight.”
I didn’t refuse.
At the restaurant, Ethan didn’t mention Sofia’s fear of the dark again or explain about the master bedroom. He said, “I’ve already had Sofia move out. The master bedroom will be restored to its original state.”
I asked, “Where is she now?”
“Another apartment in the city. Someone’s with her, and a doctor will visit.”
I nodded. “Very thorough arrangements.”
That tone sounded too much like an outsider’s. Ethan’s expression darkened. He pulled property transfer documents from his bag and pushed them toward me. “The villa can be transferred to your name. If you don’t want to live in the original house, I’ll help you pick a new one.”
I didn’t take them. “I need to enter the closed site tomorrow morning.” I said, “I’m not handling the house matter right now.”
Ethan stared at me. “Are you not planning to come home anymore?”
Before I could answer, his phone rang. The call was from the housekeeper taking care of Sofia.
The housekeeper sounded panicked, saying Sofia had disappeared. She left only one sentence. That she was going back to look at the old building where the incident happened.
Ethan’s expression changed drastically. That old building had long been abandoned, with unsafe stairs and wiring. He hung up, his first reaction to stand up.
I looked at him and said, “Go.”
Ethan seemed about to explain. “This time is different. She might really be in danger.”
“I know.”
Ethan picked up his car keys. “Go back to your place first. I’ll come find you after I handle this.” He left right after speaking.
I sat in the restaurant, closed the property transfer documents, and placed them back on the table.
The project manager sent a message. Tomorrow morning’s assembly time had been moved up to six o’clock.
Later the project van happened to detour near the old building to pick someone up. Through the car window,
I saw Ethan’s car parked outside.
The housekeeper and security surrounded the building’s base while Ethan had already rushed inside.
Screams came from upstairs.
Someone shouted, “She’s on the third floor in the old storage room! The door’s jammed and there’s no light inside!”
Project personnel got out to examine the old building’s structure.
I also followed to the stairway entrance. I’d only wanted to confirm whether the site needed the restoration team to assess the risks.
Suddenly an old wooden board came loose from above. Sofia had just been pulled from the old storage room by Ethan and stood trembling at the landing.
Ethan barely hesitated before pulling her into his arms and backing toward the wall with her. The board hit the handrail, its shattered edges falling toward the other side.
I stood right there.
My shoulder and back were struck, my palm cut by rusted metal when I braced myself on the ground.
I knelt at the bottom of the stairs and looked up to see Ethan lowering his head to check Sofia. He asked her, “Are you hurt?” Sofia clung tightly to him, shaking her head while crying.
Ethan finally saw me, his face going white, immediately wanting to come help me. Sofia gripped his clothes. “Ethan, my legs are weak…” Ethan’s movements paused for an instant.
I braced myself against the stairway railing to stand, letting a project colleague help me outside. Ethan explained urgently, “The situation was too sudden just now. She was closer to me.”
I didn’t respond to that statement. I only said, “Get her out first. The old building isn’t safe.”
I had my palm and shoulder treated at a nearby clinic. The project manager asked if I needed to notify family. I said no. Ethan’s calls came continuously. I didn’t answer.
That evening, I returned to the villa. Some of Sofia’s things had been moved away, but traces of her still remained in the master bedroom.
I didn’t tidy up. I pulled out the last box, placed the keys on the nightstand.
The access card pressed beside the keys. The old keychain also lay nearby, still stained with dust that hadn’t been wiped clean.
I placed Ethan’s property transfer documents at the very bottom. I didn’t sign.
The housekeeper saw me dragging the box downstairs and froze. “Mrs. Hart, are you going back to the old town?”
I stopped walking. “You don’t need to prepare my things anymore or keep a room for me. If he comes back, have him look at the master bedroom nightstand.” The housekeeper said Ethan would be back soon.
But I didn’t wait.
As the car door closed, Ethan’s call came through again.
I watched the screen light up and turned it off. The car drove toward the old town.
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In my past life, Ethan rushed out of the burning car wreck with Lena in his arms. He left me, his wife, to burn into charred remains.
As my soul left my body, a voice spoke.
“You harbor deep resentment. You are granted thirty days of life, after which you will completely disappear. Do you accept?”
I answered, “Yes.”
I woke in excruciating pain as Ethan’s gentle voice came beside me.
“Sophia, my mother made me promise to take care of Lena before she died. I only see her as a sister.”
I let out a cold laugh. If he really saw her as a sister, how could he have slept with her?
His hand covered my chest, right where I had taken a bullet for him eight years ago.
In the past, this would have moved me to tears.
But now, I only felt nauseous, though I still obediently embraced him.
“Ethan, I understand.”
I lowered my eyes and smiled, but my gaze was cold as ice.
This time, I wouldn’t go crazy. I would just quietly watch them walk toward their destruction.
Sophia’s POV
I woke to the searing pain of being burned alive.
In that car accident from my past life, I was trapped in the twisted driver’s seat. I watched Ethan carry Lena out of the inferno without a second thought.
I was left to burn into charred remains.
The moment my soul left my body, I heard a cold voice echo in the void.
“Deep resentment detected. You are granted thirty days of life. After thirty days, you will completely disappear from this world. Do you accept?”
I answered firmly in the flames. “Yes!”
When I opened my eyes again, blinding white light filled my vision.
Beside me, Ethan’s gentle voice reached my ears.
“Sophia, before my mother died, she said she had wronged Lena’s parents and made me promise to take care of her.”
“Lena is innocent. I’ll look after her for three years on behalf of my mother.”
“After three years, I’ll take you to Switzerland to remove that bullet fragment from your chest. I’ll be with you forever.”
As he spoke, his warm palm gently covered my chest.
It was where I had blocked a bullet for him eight years ago.
If I had heard this confession in my past life, I would have been so moved that I’d throw myself into his arms and nod in agreement.
But now, looking at Ethan’s affectionate expression, I only felt intense nausea churning in my stomach.
But I didn’t push him away.
I obediently lowered my eyes, forced out a tear, and even reached out to embrace him, my voice trembling. “Ethan, I understand. Your mother would understand too.”
Hearing my words, Ethan’s tense body instantly relaxed. He rested his chin on top of my head and let out a long, satisfied sigh.
“Sophia, you’re always so kind. You’re wonderful.”
He didn’t know that in the corner he couldn’t see, I was coldly staring at my left wrist resting on his back.
A faint red line had appeared there, and at the end of the line, a row of blood-red letters floated that only I could see.
“Time until death: 30 days”
“I won’t be home tonight. Lena just got back, and she’s afraid of the dark. She needs someone with her.”
Ethan tucked the blanket around me and placed a light kiss on my forehead. “Get some rest. Remember to take your medicine.”
The door closed.
The expression on my face vanished instantly.
I threw off the covers and walked barefoot to the floor-to-ceiling window.
Downstairs, Ethan walked toward a black Bentley.
The passenger door opened, and a woman wrapped in a beige coat impatiently threw herself into his arms, standing on her toes to kiss his lips passionately.
Lena.
The future superstar who would become famous nationwide next month.
Watching the intimate couple under the streetlights, I turned away expressionlessly and quickly walked to the desk, pulling open the bottom drawer and prying open the hidden compartment with a knife.
Inside lay an old manila envelope and a hospital document that had slipped from Ethan’s suit pocket.
These were the secrets I hadn’t discovered until my death in my past life.
I pulled out the letter. On it was written Ethan’s mother’s desperate curse: “I will not allow Lena to marry my son! Even in death, I forbid it!”
And the hospital document was an ultrasound report.
Twelve weeks pregnant.
I gripped the ultrasound report tightly, my fingertips pale white, my heart feeling like it was being pierced by countless needles.
Ethan said he had only agreed to care for Lena a month ago at his mother’s deathbed.
But three months ago, they already had a child together!
What dying wish, what three years of care. All lies!
He was just using his recently deceased mother as an excuse to keep his mistress, pregnant with his illegitimate child, right under my nose.
All the rage and desolation churned violently in my chest, but in the end, I didn’t shed a single tear.
I calmly put the letter and ultrasound report back in the hidden compartment.
In my past life, I had confronted him like a madwoman with this evidence, only to face Ethan’s anger and punishment.
In this life, I wouldn’t ask a single question.
Until the day I died, I would leave these things for him as the heaviest gift of his life.
Sophia’s POV
Over the next few days, Ethan was almost never home at night.
But he would call via video every day at the same time, carefully reminding me to eat and take my medicine, acting like the most considerate husband in the world.
“Sophia, I have an important client tonight and need to work late. Get some rest early.”
On the screen, Ethan loosened his tie. Behind him was the hallway of the Monarch Private Club.
I watched the unnatural guilt in his eyes and nodded obediently. “Okay. Don’t drink too much. Your stomach is delicate and needs careful care.”
After hanging up, I glanced at the heavy rain outside.
Ethan had severe stomach problems. Every time he drank too much, he would have stomach spasms.
In the past, whenever he went drinking with clients, I would deliver medicine to him even in a snowstorm.
I grabbed the medicine and left.
This would perhaps be the last time I delivered anything to him.
After all, if I was going to act, I had to act until the end.
When I reached the top-floor private room at the Monarch Club, I was about to push the door open when laughter from inside made me freeze.
“Ethan, you’re so ruthless. How can you even make up such lies?”
That was the voice of Ethan’s friend, Marcus.
Inside the warm room, the words Ethan spoke made me, standing outside the door, feel cold all over.
“If I don’t make up lies, would Sophia, with her stubborn personality, believe me? She took a bullet for me back then. My safety and my family’s gratitude matter most to her in this life. Only by using my dead mother as an excuse will she not go crazy.”
“But Lena’s baby is already three months along. Can you really keep it from her?”
“What’s there to fear?” Ethan leisurely swirled his wine glass, his tone full of arrogant control. “The bullet fragment in Sophia’s chest has been there for eight years. The doctor said she could have an episode at any time. Even if I don’t say anything, her broken body won’t last much longer.”
“Besides, once Lena gives birth, I’ll just say I found a surrogate abroad. As long as I tell Sophia I still love her, she can’t live without me, and she’ll eventually accept the child as her own.”
Inside the room, exclamations erupted as friends praised Ethan’s clever plan, keeping both wife and child by his side.
Outside the door, I stood frozen in place, my mind completely blank.
Even though I already knew the secret of the ultrasound report, hearing Ethan use my devotion as leverage to manipulate me still tore my heart apart.
He not only wanted to humiliate me with lies. He was even hoping the bullet fragment in my chest would kill me!
In his plan, my compliance and death were both stepping stones to pave the way for his mistress and illegitimate child!
A sharp pain shot through my chest.
It was the rusted bullet fragment warning me from within my flesh and blood.
I clutched my chest tightly, my face pale with pain, cold sweat instantly soaking my back.
I didn’t push the door open to make a scene. I didn’t confront him.
I just quietly looked at the medicine in my hand and tossed it into the nearby trash can like garbage.
A dull thud.
Along with my eight years of love, thrown away together.
I turned and walked into the rainy night.
I didn’t go home. Instead, I went straight to Central Hospital.
In the emergency room, the doctor looked at my chest X-ray with furrowed brows. “Ms. Blackwood, this bullet fragment has moved to the edge of your aorta! Have you been under some kind of stress lately? If you don’t have surgery, you won’t live past a month!”
“I won’t have the surgery.” I calmly got dressed. “Just give me some painkillers.”
The doctor looked at me in shock. “You’re waiting to die!”
I smiled faintly and didn’t answer.
Yes, I was waiting to die.
Because with the thirty-day countdown, no one could rewrite my fate.
I looked down at my left wrist, where the red line flickered faintly. “Time until death: 26 days”
Sophia’s POV
Ethan didn’t come home until noon the next day, reeking of perfume.
He was clearly in an excellent mood. As soon as he entered, he handed me an exquisite jewelry box.
“Sophia, this is for you.”
I opened the box to find an expensive pink diamond necklace inside.
In my past life, I had been so moved when I received this necklace that my eyes reddened, thinking it showed his favoritism toward me.
But later I learned that Lena had her eye on a blue diamond necklace from the same collection. To please Lena, Ethan bought the entire series of gemstone jewelry and gave me the pink diamond necklace Lena didn’t like as compensation.
“Do you like it?” Ethan gently stroked my hair. “Next week is Sterling Group’s fifth anniversary gala. I want you to wear it and accompany me as Mrs. Sterling.”
I closed the lid, my lips curving into a docile smile. “Okay, whatever you say.”
Ethan paused, a flash of guilt crossing his eyes as he tentatively spoke. “Sophia, there’s one more thing… Lena just entered the entertainment industry. For this anniversary gala, I want her to attend as a special guest.”
He stared intently at my eyes, as if afraid I would lose my temper.
“You’re the hostess. At the event, I want you to personally introduce her to those directors and producers. Consider it helping me take care of her.”
He wanted me to personally go on stage and elevate his mistress into New York’s elite circles.
Was there any crueler humiliation in this world?
In my past life, I had cried and begged him all night in the study over this matter, only to receive his cold response: “When did you become so vicious?”
In the end, I was still forced to attend, becoming a laughingstock throughout New York.
And at this moment, looking at Ethan’s hypocritical eyes, I found it absurd.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t even hesitate. I nodded quite naturally.
“Sure.” My voice was soft. “Of course I’ll take good care of her.”
Ethan let out a huge sigh of relief, joy bursting from his eyes.
He pulled me into his arms and kissed my cheek excitedly.
“Sophia, I knew you were the kindest! Don’t worry, once I fulfill my mother’s wish, I’ll love only you forever!”
I let him hold me, my gaze moving past his shoulder to coldly rest on our wedding photo on the wall.
Kind?
It was because I was going to die soon, Ethan.
How could someone about to die concern themselves with such trivial matters?
On the day of the gala.
I wore a tasteful, elegant dress and entered the venue on Ethan’s arm.
Before long, Lena appeared at the venue in an extremely ostentatious white gown.
Her gaze swept past the crowd and landed provocatively on me.
“Sophia.” Lena approached, deliberately glancing at my flat abdomen. “Thank you for all your hard work today. Ethan said you’ve been in poor health and haven’t been able to conceive. I feel terrible making you work so hard.”
The socialites around us instantly showed mocking expressions.
This was clearly a deliberate jab at my pain regarding children.
Ethan’s face changed slightly. He instinctively looked at me, trying to catch anger or grievance on my face.
Because as long as I got angry, he could take Lena’s side.
But he saw nothing.
Not only was I not angry, I picked up a glass of warm water from a passing server’s tray and personally handed it to Lena.
“You’re too kind, Ms. Cooper. Drink more warm water and don’t overexert yourself.”
Lena’s face stiffened, panic flashing in her eyes.
But I didn’t look at her again. I turned to Ethan with a smile so gentle it was flawless.
“Ethan, Mr. Harrison is over there. Let me take Lena over to introduce her.”
I took Lena’s hand and led her into the core of the banquet.
Halfway through the event, I excused myself to use the restroom and walked alone to the venue’s terrace.
The night wind made my chest ache faintly.
I took out my phone and sent a message to Owen.
“Owen, I’ve signed the transfer contract for The Late Hours Bookstore. Please help me process the transfer tomorrow.”
The only thing in this world I couldn’t take with me or let go of was this bookstore.
Now, I needed to erase this final trace.
I glanced at the night sky. The red line on my left wrist glowed faintly in the darkness.
“Time until death: 22 days”
I turned to head back to the venue but heard Lena’s lowered voice from around the corner.
“Ethan, when will Sophia finally die? Didn’t the doctor say she wouldn’t live long? My belly will be showing in two more months. Do you want our child to be born a bastard?”
Then came Ethan’s gentle yet cruel reassurance.
“Lena, just wait a little longer. She behaved so well today. How can I bring up divorce now? Don’t worry. The future heir of Sterling Group can only be our child.”
I stood quietly in the shadows, listening to them plan their future after my death.
The corners of my mouth slowly curved into an eerie arc.
What’s the rush?
There were still 22 days left.
In 22 days, I would give them the most grand banquet of all.
Sophia’s POV
The day after the anniversary gala, I was at the bookstore organizing the last batch of old books to donate when the door was suddenly pushed open.
My best friend Emma rushed in breathlessly, her eyes red-rimmed, grabbing my wrist. “Sophia, something happened!”
At last night’s gala, Emma had witnessed Ethan and Lena’s disgusting behavior and was furious. Today, while recording a show at the TV station, she happened to run into Lena, and the two had a confrontation.
Emma slapped Lena across the face in public and called her a homewrecker.
“I just can’t stand her behavior! Why should you be bullied by that bitch!” Emma trembled as she cried.
My heart tightened, but before I could speak, the harsh sound of braking came from outside.
Ethan arrived with several bodyguards, his face dark with fury as he strode into the bookstore.
His usual gentle mask was completely torn away. The look he gave Emma was as cold as if he were looking at a dead person.
“Take her away.” Ethan coldly ordered. “Since Ms. Hayes can’t control her hands, she doesn’t need to stay in New York anymore.”
“Ethan, what are you doing!” I rushed to stand in front of Emma.
Ethan looked at me, his tone severe. “Sophia, she slapped Lena in front of so many people today! Lena is a public figure, and more importantly, she’s the person my mother asked me to care for before she died. She’s suffered such a great injustice. This can’t just end like this!”
“Not only will she be blacklisted online, I’m sending her to prison!”
All the blood in my body seemed to freeze at that moment.
In my past life, Emma had been driven to bankruptcy by Ethan for standing up for me against Lena, and eventually swallowed twenty sleeping pills and committed suicide.
That scene was a wound in my heart that would bleed forever.
I could endure Ethan’s cold violence toward me, but I absolutely couldn’t let Emma be harmed again!
I clenched my fists tightly, my nails nearly digging into my flesh.
Looking at this husband who was willing to push my best friend to the brink of destruction for another woman, I swallowed the bloody taste rising in my throat.
I lowered my head, my voice hoarse to the extreme. “Ethan, I’m begging you, don’t hurt her.”
Ethan frowned. “Sophia, don’t be unreasonable.”
“I’ll apologize for her.” I closed my eyes, my knees bending slightly. “I’ll go apologize to Lena. Is that okay?”
Ethan froze. He looked at my humble posture, reluctance crossing his face, but he quickly suppressed it.
“Fine,” Ethan looked at me. “Go to Lena’s set this afternoon and apologize to her. Then I won’t pursue this matter.”
After Ethan left, Emma held me and sobbed. “Sophia, why are you apologizing! What did you do wrong!”
I didn’t cry.
I calmly took out my phone and transferred all five million dollars remaining in my account to Emma.
“Emma, take this money and leave immediately. Never come back.”
“Sophia…”
“Go!” I pushed her away forcefully. “I can’t protect you for long. You can only honor me by living well!”
Because the protection of the dead has an expiration date.
Sophia’s POV
That afternoon, I went to the set where Lena was filming as promised.
It had just rained, and the second-story set construction was somewhat shaky.
I stood below, watching Lena sit in her rest chair.
“Sophia, you really didn’t need to come apologize in person.” Lena stroked her belly, her smile full of boasting. “Ethan is just so worried about me and the baby. He doesn’t want us to suffer any harm.”
My face showed no emotion. I just quietly watched her. “I’m not here to discuss that with you. Ethan said as long as I apologize to you, he’ll let Emma go. I keep my word.”
I bent slightly toward her, my tone flat. “I’m sorry, Ms. Cooper. Emma shouldn’t have hit you. It’s my fault. I should have explained things to her earlier.”
Lena probably hadn’t expected me to apologize so readily. She paused before speaking coquettishly. “Well, since you’ve apologized, what can I say? But my face still hurts. I don’t know if I can be on camera.”
I stared at her expressionlessly, about to speak.
Suddenly, the sound of metal breaking came from overhead!
People around let out cries of alarm and frantically ran toward the exits.
“Look out!”
Someone shouted, and a row of heavy steel frames used to secure the lighting, loosened from their screws, came crashing down toward where Lena and I were standing!
Amid the screams, I instinctively stepped back, but from the corner of my eye, I saw Ethan had just entered the set.
He moved quickly, running toward us. I thought he was coming to save me.
“Ethan! Save me! My baby!” Lena screamed, pretending to twist her ankle and falling to the ground.
The steel frames were originally falling between us.
If Ethan pulled me, both Lena and I could escape.
But in that instant.
Ethan’s body didn’t think at all. He rushed over, scooped up Lena from the ground, and threw himself outward!
And as he lunged for Lena, he knocked into a prop box beside him, which directly blocked my only escape route!
I looked desperately at the box before me, the sound of steel frames colliding reaching my ears.
CRASH!
A huge impact. Dust flew everywhere.
The steel frame, weighing over a hundred pounds, slammed down on my chest and back.
The moment I was crushed under the steel frame, I didn’t feel pain. I just felt something in my chest completely shatter.
Eight years ago, in a shootout.
Ethan was being hunted by enemies. When that bullet shot toward him, I didn’t hesitate to throw myself in front of him, using my chest to block the fatal strike.
That bullet fragment stopped just half a centimeter from my heart, causing me years of chronic pain.
But because I loved him, I willingly got hurt for him.
But I never imagined that eight years later, today.
In the swirling dust, I coughed up blood in great mouthfuls.
I struggled to open my eyes and through the gaps in the steel frame, I saw Ethan and Lena, safe and sound, a few meters away.
Ethan was anxiously cupping Lena’s face, asking repeatedly. “Lena, is our baby hurt? Don’t be afraid, I’m here.”
Even though Lena only had a minor scrape, his eyes reddened with distress.
But Ethan didn’t see me, lying to the side, dying.
In the same dangerous moment, years ago I went to die for him.
Now, for another woman, he personally pushed me into mortal danger.
Watching their intimate scene, a drop of warm liquid finally slid from the corner of my eye.
It was the last tear I would shed for this absurd, laughable eight-year love.
Then, in a wave of excruciating pain, I fell completely into darkness.
Sophia’s POV
The next time I regained consciousness, I was lying in the hospital’s intensive care unit.
Every bone in my body felt like it had been crushed by a truck. Even breathing sent sharp pain through my chest.
“Mr. Sterling,” outside the room, the doctor’s voice carried anger, “Ms. Blackwood was struck by a heavy object, causing the bullet fragment from eight years ago to completely shift. The fragment has now pierced through the pericardium and is pressing against her aorta!”
Ethan’s voice trembled with shock. “Then do surgery to remove it! I don’t care how much it costs. Use the best treatment!”
“It can’t be removed.” The doctor coldly interrupted him. “It’s too deep. In her current physical condition, the moment we open her chest for surgery, she’ll hemorrhage and die immediately. With conservative treatment, she has at most half a month left.”
“She’s essentially someone who could die at any moment now!”
Silence fell outside the door.
I lay in the hospital bed, staring vacantly at the ceiling.
On my wrist, the red line had turned so red it seemed about to drip blood.
“Time until death: 18 days”
What a coincidence. Even the death sentence from the doctor matched the system’s countdown.
I don’t know how much time passed before the hospital room door was pushed open.
Ethan walked in with red eyes, his steps somewhat unsteady.
He approached the bed, looking at my pale face covered with tubes, his lips trembling violently as he tried to hold my hand. “Sophia…”
I didn’t dodge.
I lay there like a senseless rag doll, letting him grip my hand.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry!” Ethan suddenly broke down and buried his face in my palm. “I didn’t see you there! Lena is pregnant. All I could think about was my mother’s dying wish to protect this child. It was just an instinctive reaction… I didn’t mean to leave you behind!”
Listening to his excuse full of lies, my heart didn’t waver even slightly.
In my past life, I might have forgiven him for such an excuse.
But now I knew. What dying wish, what caring for a benefactor. All lies.
He abandoned me in a moment of danger simply because he no longer loved me.
Seeing me remain silent, Ethan panicked.
He looked up, his eyes full of pleading. “Sophia, hit me, yell at me, anything. Just don’t stay silent! I swear I’ll find the best doctors in the world. I will cure you!”
“Okay.”
In the silent hospital room, I suddenly spoke.
My voice was extremely hoarse from the injury, but my tone was calm.
“Ethan, I don’t blame you. Lena is pregnant. It’s right that you saved her. If it were me, I would have told you to save the child first too.”
Ethan froze completely.
He thought I would question him frantically, cry and accuse him of his heartlessness.
But I didn’t.
Not only did I not blame him, I was even making excuses for him.
Wasn’t this exactly the result Ethan wanted most?
But for some reason, looking at my expressionless face, Ethan began to panic.
“Sophia, you really… don’t blame me?” He tested carefully.
“I don’t blame you.” I even managed an extremely weak smile. “Go be with her. She must have been terrified today.”
Ethan hesitated, but was ultimately pulled back to reality by his assistant’s low call from outside the door.
“Mr. Sterling, Ms. Cooper is crying about stomach pain and won’t cooperate with the examination…”
Ethan glanced at me. “Sophia, I’ll just check on Lena and come right back to stay with you. Rest well.”
The door closed.
The smile on my face vanished instantly.
I struggled to lift my left hand, looking at the pulsing blood-red countdown.
After these 18 days passed, after I disappeared from this hopeless marriage.
Then he would know what he abandoned today.
Sophia’s POV
In the hospital room, the smell of disinfectant soaked into my bones every day.
I had become skeletal, my once-fitted hospital gown hanging loosely on my frame. Even breathing required an oxygen mask.
Every heartbeat caused the bullet fragment in my chest to scrape against tissue, bringing excruciating pain.
The countdown had reached its final 3 days.
That afternoon, Ethan came to the hospital room.
Looking at my pale face, his eyes flickered evasively, but he still put on that affectionate expression.
“Sophia, the day after tomorrow… I’m having a wedding ceremony with Lena.”
I looked at him quietly, saying nothing.
Ethan urgently gripped my emaciated hand and explained.
“Don’t misunderstand! It’s not a real marriage, just to comfort her! Recently, many people online have been calling her a homewrecker. She’s emotionally devastated. The doctor said if this continues, the baby won’t survive. I’m only doing this to fulfill my mother’s dying promise. It’s just something I came up with!”
“Once the baby is safely born, I’ll find some excuse to send her away. In my heart, there’s only ever been you.”
He made infidelity sound so dignified.
Looking at this man before me, I wanted to cut open his chest and see what his heart was made of.
But I only blinked, my voice as light as the wind. “Okay.”
Seeing me agree so readily, joy flashed in Ethan’s eyes, but then his gaze moved to my left hand.
There, I wore an extremely expensive gold bracelet.
In my past life, even though Ethan’s mother disliked me, she had given me this bracelet before her death.
“Sophia,” Ethan’s tone was tentative, “the wedding the day after tomorrow will have many media present. Could you… lend her the bracelet to wear for one day?”
“Just one day! As soon as the wedding is over, I’ll return it to you immediately!”
I suddenly let out a low laugh.
The laugh made my chest shake, coughing up a large mouthful of blood-streaked phlegm.
Ethan panicked and quickly grabbed tissues to wipe. “Sophia, don’t get upset! If you don’t want to, forget it…”
“I’m willing.”
I pushed away his hand and without hesitation removed the bracelet and threw it at him.
“Take it.”
Ethan held the bracelet still warm from my body, his entire being freezing.
He looked at me in shock.
My gaze was too calm.
Not a trace of attachment, as if discarding filthy garbage.
Enormous panic gripped Ethan’s heart. He suddenly grabbed my hand. “Sophia, wait for me. As soon as this wedding is over, I’ll come back to stay with you!”
I closed my eyes and stopped looking at him.
On my left wrist, the red line emitted a piercing red glow.
“Time until death: 3 days”
The day before the wedding was also the last day before my impending death.
I pulled out the IV needle from the back of my hand and signed the form to refuse treatment.
Amid the doctor’s sighs, I wrapped myself in an oversized coat and left the hospital alone. I returned to the villa, the home that was supposed to be our wedding house, the place where I had once poured all my love.
I pushed open the door. The familiar scent rushed toward me.
In my past life, I had constantly hoped Ethan would come home to see me just once.
“Mrs. Sterling?” The housekeeper looked startled seeing my weakened state. “Why did you leave the hospital? Mr. Sterling, he’s getting married tomorrow…”
“Call everyone in the house here.” My voice was hoarse but carried a cold hardness.
Soon, the servants and security guards stood in the living room.
I sat on the sofa, pointing at the furniture throughout the house.
“My things, if any of you want them, take them directly.”
None of the servants dared move.
I let out a cold laugh and pulled out a lighter from under the table, flicking it open with a “click.”
“If you don’t take them, I’ll burn everything.”
In less than two hours, they had emptied the villa.
Anything they couldn’t carry or didn’t want, I threw into the incinerator.
I personally took down the massive wedding photo from the wall, along with the sketch Ethan had drawn of me years ago, the thick stack of love letters he’d sent, and even the wedding dress I’d treasured for many years. One by one, I threw them all into the roaring flames.
The firelight reflected on my bloodless face.
Watching these things turn to ash in the flames, the stone that had weighed on my heart for two lifetimes finally shattered completely.
From now on, there would be no trace left in this world that I had ever loved Ethan Sterling.
After handling everything, I returned to the empty study.
I took out a black courier envelope.
I put Ethan’s mother’s real letter inside.
I put Lena’s ultrasound report inside.
I also put in dozens of hotel check-in records between Lena and producer Nathan Rivers.
Finally, I threw in a USB drive containing the recording of what Ethan said in that private room.
I sealed the envelope, attached a courier label, and wrote down the address of the hotel where Ethan was holding his wedding tomorrow.
I dialed the courier service, my voice as calm as if I was ordering takeout.
“Tomorrow at exactly noon, make sure to deliver this personally into Ethan Sterling’s hands.”
Everything was ready.
I pushed open the villa’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Facing the biting cold wind, I looked at my left wrist.
The red line had burned down to its end.
“Time until death: final 12 hours”
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When I was five months pregnant, Thomas’s first love came to the house to provoke me and commit arson.
I immediately called Thomas for help. In the end, my child was saved, but Mickey died in the fire that day.
Thomas said he didn’t blame me and told me to rest easy in the hospital until I gave birth.
But on the day I gave birth to our child, he burned me and the baby alive.
In my final moment, through the raging flames, I saw his vicious, twisted face.
“If you hadn’t deliberately set that fire, Mickey would never have died!”
“You think you can fool me by pretending to be the victim? Dream on! You’re going to pay for her life with yours!”
“You like setting fires, don’t you? I’ll let you experience it firsthand, feel every bit of Mickey’s pain before she died!”
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the fire scene.
Thick smoke poured into my nostrils, choking me into violent coughs.
The pain instantly jolted me awake from my memories of my past life.
The first thing I did was pull out my phone, but this time I didn’t dial my firefighter captain husbandâI called 911 instead.
When the rescue team arrived, I spotted Thomas’s familiar figure from afar.
Only after he carried Mickey out of the fire did I feel safe enough to call out for help from the other rescuers.
Those crew members thought I was making a fuss and scolded me coldly for a long time.
A wall decoration crashed down, slamming hard into my pregnant belly.
I coughed up blood on the spot, but they still acted as if they hadn’t noticed.
Gritting my teeth through the excruciating pain, I used every ounce of strength to crawl out of the fire scene.
But all the cooling and emergency equipment was being used on Mickey.
Thomas didn’t even bother to glance at me, only cursing that I got what I deserved.
The pain made me break out in cold sweat, blood spilling from my mouth. I could even feel my child’s life rapidly slipping away.
In my past life, when the fire first started, both Mickey and I had called Thomas for help at the same time. But for the sake of the child, he chose to rescue me first.
By the time he returned to the fire scene, the blaze was out of control and he couldn’t go back in to save anyone.
Mickey died in the flames on the spot, burned beyond recognition.
Thomas said it was okay and told me not to blame myself.
To comfort me, he even took time off to stay with me until I gave birth.
But on the day I delivered our child, he dragged me and the baby to Mickey’s grave.
Right in front of me, he slit our child’s throat with a knife.
Blood splattered across his face, making his eyes look even more bloodshot.
“Angel, do you know what it feels like to be burned alive? Mickey suffered through that pain, and I’m going to make you repay it ten times, a hundred times over!”
Later, just as he wished, I died in the flames with our child.
This time, reborn, I only wanted to escape far away.
I never expected he still wouldn’t let me goâhe wouldn’t even spare the cooling and first aid equipment for me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw blood gushing from below. I wailed, using my hoarse voice to make one final plea for help.
“Save the baby… please…”
The crew member closest to me finally noticed and turned to look at me.
But his eyes were full of disdain and mockery. He kicked at me with his foot.
“Angel, stop acting. Everyone on our team knows you can’t stand Mickey, right?”
“I can’t believe you’d commit arson while pregnant. Thomas already went to save someoneâno one’s watching your performance anymore.”
“Honestly, I kind of admire you. To do this kind of thing for a man.”
“But it’s a shameâThomas only has eyes for Mickey. You better pray she’s okay, or Thomas will divorce you in a heartbeat!”
I knew Thomas didn’t love me, but I never imagined even his crew members saw me this way.
The violent contractions in my abdomen made it impossible for me to make another sound.
My scalding skin was peeling off in the high temperature.
All the crew members were busy putting out the fire. Not a single person asked about my condition.
As my consciousness faded, I heard someone nearby exclaim:
“Oh no! Why is there so much blood on the ground? This is badâwhat if something really happened to Angel?”
“What could possibly happen? She just wants Thomas to look at her. She’s been making a scene for ages. Whatever, just go call Thomas over and try.”
But I didn’t get Thomas’s concernâonly his ruthless interrogation.
His gloved hand slapped me hard twice across the face.
“Angel, wake up. Stop pretending. I’m here now.”
“Is your brain broken? You set a fire and managed to burn yourself like this? Shooting yourself in the footâis this fun for you?”
Even at this point, he still thought I set the fire. He still thought I was acting out of jealousy.
I wanted to explain, but my mouth was too dry to speak.
My stomach hurt terribly.
All I could do was reach out and grab his sleeve, hoping he would understand my plea for help.
But after hesitating for two seconds, he pressed down hard on my abdomen.
“Pretty convincing act. If Mickey hadn’t told me you hid yourself after setting the fire, I might have actually believed you.”
After leaving those words, he turned and left without hesitation.
The next second, a crew member’s shocked voice rang out beside me.
“Thomas! Blood! Angel is bleeding!”
“Is she having a miscarriage?!”
“Don’t worry about her. Mickey said it’s just chicken blood. The baby’s already five months alongâit’s not that easy to lose. If she wants to act, let her act.”
After the intense pain, my vision went black and I lost consciousness completely.
In my dream, I seemed to return to when I first met Thomas.
At a campus lecture, his face was cold as ice, but his impressive professional skills captured many girls’ hearts.
I was no exception. After falling for him at first sight, I started asking around about him.
Back then I was still a teaching assistant at the school. He didn’t think much of me.
To get his attention, I worked harder and harder.
After getting tenure, I invited him to dinner under the guise of gratitude.
I keenly noticed that the way he looked at me had changed.
I seized that opportunity and pursued him relentlessly.
Flowers, basketballs, cakes, coffeeâI never held back on gifts.
Finally, I got what I wanted. He agreed to my confession.
I thought this was the beginning of happiness, but it turned out to be the start of my nightmare.
After we got together, he grew colder and colder toward me. Every time we had a date, either he was busy with work or had a sudden rescue mission.
I never doubted him until our wedding day.
An email from abroad completely shattered my dream.
Mickey had documented in detail their ten years together. Every second of those memories felt like a knife to my heart.
It turned out that all the time he stood me up, he was spending with another woman.
What was even sadder was that I didn’t even have the courage to confront him. I was afraid he would leave.
In my past life, when Mickey died, he was so calm that I once thought I was the winner in this relationship.
For me and the child, he practically bought out every baby store in the city.
This sudden surge of affection made my head spin and I completely lost my ability to think rationally.
It wasn’t until the moment I gave birth and died at his hands that I understood.
He wasn’t loving me with his lifeâhe was relentlessly taking revenge.
The love of his life, from beginning to end, had only ever been Mickey.
When I woke up, I was already in a hospital room.
The person beside me wasn’t Thomas, but an unfamiliar face.
“You’re awake? I’m your downstairs neighbor. I originally went up to check on the fire.”
“Who knew when I got there I’d see you lying on the ground alone, so I brought you to the hospital. Are you okay? How do you feel?”
I struggled to move my limbs. When my hands touched my belly, my movements froze.
“I’m sorry, but when you were brought in, the doctor said your baby couldn’t be saved…”
I pulled at the corners of my mouth in a bitter smile.
“It’s not your fault. I know.”
“Thank you for bringing me to the hospital.”
Even a stranger could tell at a glance that something was wrong with me, but my husband of five years couldn’t be bothered to look at me.
Seeing my low spirits, he seemed even more upset than I was.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with that rescue team. How could they not save someone lying there in plain sight?”
“If I hadn’t gone up, you’d be dead by now! Where’s your family? Doesn’t the baby’s father care?”
“If you have his number, I’ll contact him. You can’t be alone right now.”
“I’ve already reported that rescue team. People like that are a blight on society if they keep working!”
I nodded, but when I spoke, only a whisper came out.
“The baby’s father is dead.”
His face was filled with sympathy, and he offered to take care of me until I was discharged.
I declined his kindness.
I transferred him the hospital fees and surgery costs, then urged him to leave.
Though he left, the online uproar continued to ferment.
The topic of the rescue captain’s house catching fire carried its own buzz.
It had already shot to the top of trending topics across all major platforms.
The neighbor kindly posted a photo of me collapsed on the ground in the comments section.
It instantly sparked heated discussion across the internet. Everyone was condemning the rescue team, asking if they only cared about putting out fires while ignoring a pregnant woman and the life in her belly.
If so, they should be called a fire department, not shamelessly claim to be a rescue team.
I scrolled through all the online abuse in the comments and felt that such punishment was still too light for Thomas.
I opened the chat window, about to send him a message about divorce.
But Mickey’s gloating message popped up first.
Turned out she was in this hospital too, right on the floor below mine.
In the photo, Thomas was personally feeding her porridge, carefully blowing on it again and again to make sure she wouldn’t burn herself.
I’d seen countless photos of them intimately intertwined.
Such images could no longer stir my emotions.
I quietly closed the chat window and called Thomas.
On the fifth try, he finally answered, his voice extremely impatient.
“You still have the nerve to call me? What do you want? Asking if Mickey’s dead yet?”
“Sorry to disappoint you! I already saved Mickey! She’s alive and well, right here in the hospital!”
“Angel, knowing you all this time, I never imagined you were this kind of person. Do you know what you did? You tried to kill someone! Are you insane?”
“I’m giving you one hour. Get down to the hospital room right now and apologize to her! Or else we’re getting divorced!”
Before I could speak, Mickey’s pitiful sobbing came through the line.
“Thomas, don’t blame Angel. It’s all my fault. If she says I started the fire, just accept it. Don’t argue with herâpregnant women can’t handle emotional stress.”
Thomas let out a long sigh, disappointed.
“You’re just too kind. That’s why she keeps walking all over you. We knew each other first. Who does Angel think she is? What right does she have to hurt you?”
“Don’t worry about it. This time I’m definitely going to teach her a lesson!”
While the two of them were being sickeningly sweet, I said calmly:
“Fine, let’s get divorced. I agree. I’ll send you the papers right away. Remember to sign them.”
Thomas clearly hadn’t expected me to bring up divorce first.
After a moment of shock, his anger exploded. Just as he was about to lash out, I abruptly hung up.
Before I could block his number, a barrage of text messages came flooding in.
“Where are you? Angel, have you lost your mind today? I’ve been holding back because you’re pregnant, and now you’re pushing your luck?”
“You think just because you’re pregnant I won’t dare divorce you? I’m afraid on the day you give birth you’ll have no one to sign the papers and you’ll have to crawl out of bed and beg me on your knees!”
“And the news onlineâtake it down immediately! Don’t make me expose your true face to the public!”
I didn’t keep reading. I deleted all the messages and blocked his number.
Even though I’d already gone through the bloody lesson of my past life.
Being betrayed by him again still made my heart ache involuntarily for a moment.
The nurses who came in to change my bandages didn’t notice my expression and started chatting among themselves.
“That man downstairs is so handsome. It’s the first time I’ve seen a couple so well-matched! I heard they’re childhood sweethearts, a campus romance. I’m so jealous.”
“Your news is old. Latest updateâMr. Thomas spent a fortune to rent out an entire cafeteria window just so he can personally cook for his beloved wife every day!”
“Just now when I went to apply her medicine, Mr. Thomas wouldn’t even let me touch her. He insisted on doing it himself. True love is so sweet!”
I stared numbly at the needle marks on the back of my hand. My arm, with a layer of skin peeled off, was both painful and itchy.
When they left, I felt relieved and gasped for oxygen, but somehow couldn’t draw it into my chest.
That evening, the doctor came to see me and said my abdomen had suffered severe trauma. It would be very difficult for me to have children in the future.
Hearing this, my first reaction was actually relief.
At least without a child, he wouldn’t have to suffer with me.
An innocent life deserved a better future.
After everyone left the room, I took out my phone to check the latest developments online.
The cyberbullying had escalated beyond control, forcing the rescue unit’s leadership to issue a statement.
However, his explanation was that the fire was entirely staged by me, that I deliberately hurt someone out of jealousy.
Not only did I waste the unit’s rescue resources, but I also got their captain criticized.
In the video, the leader kept saying he hoped netizens would let this matter go.
But every word was directing the source of the conflict toward me.
To increase the video’s credibility, Thomas registered an account under his real name and posted our marriage certificate.
His action completely sealed my fate in the wave of online abuse.
The criticism that had been aimed at the rescue team suddenly turned toward me.
My homepage was overwhelmed and banned by the platform.
My attempts to explain were drowned in the netizens’ curses.
Over the next few days, I could feel the hospital staff looking at me with hostility.
If not for their professional ethics barely holding up, I probably would have been kicked out already.
Every day I received packages from different places, all without exception containing threats.
Faced with all this, I never offered a single word of explanation.
Only on the day the doctor said I could be discharged did I send Thomas a message.
“Let’s go to City Hall tomorrow and finalize things.”
He seized this opening to call me back.
“What, finally can’t hide anymore? Finally have the nerve to show your face? I warned you. I gave you a chance. You’re the one who refused to take down the online controversy. Don’t blame me for being merciless now!”
“If Mickey hadn’t pleaded for you, I would have reported you to the police long ago!”
“Fine, let’s divorce. When the child has no father, don’t come crying to me! If he becomes an orphan, it’s your own doing!”
Before I could speak, he’d already hung up.
I quietly opened our home security camera app and downloaded the footage of Mickey committing arson that day.
Early the next morning, after checking out of the hospital, I headed straight to City Hall with my documents.
But when the time came, it was Mickey who showed up.
“I told you long ago, you can’t beat me. Your husband is nothing but my lapdog.”
Looking at my abdomen, she feigned surprise.
“Oh my, where’s the baby? What a shame. In the past life, killed by his own father. In this life, killed by his own father again. Having you as a mother, what a short-lived ghost…”
She was reborn too?
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She seemed unable to accept this fact, her voice involuntarily rising.
“Twenty years ago, at the orphanage entrance, I was the one who stopped your parents…”
She stopped mid-sentence, suddenly cutting herself off, as if even she found that past behavior too shameful to mention.
I watched her awkward expression, my heart utterly cold.
Of course I remembered. I remembered every single look of disgust, every word of loathing.
I remembered how she had personally pushed me away, severing all my illusions about love and family.
But I would pretend not to remember.
I pretended to think hard, then put on an expression of sudden realization.
“Ohâ” I deliberately drew out the sound. “So it was you.”
I looked at her with an innocent smile.
“I’m really sorry, but that was twenty years ago. It’s been too longâI forgot ages ago.”
“After all, I have so much important research to do every day. How could I have time to remember such trivial matters?”
Patterson’s face instantly turned ashen.
Trivial matters? In her view, that had been the pivotal event that determined my fate.
This hurt her more than outright insults would have.
She gritted her teeth, saying unwillingly, “Stop playing dumb!”
“Aren’t you harboring a grudge against me because I prevented the Williams family from adopting you back then?”
“Now you want to find an opportunity to get revenge on me and Wilson?”
I finally couldn’t hold back a scornful laugh.
“Miss Patterson, aren’t you being a bit too full of yourself?”
I dropped my smile, my eyes turning cold.
“Revenge on you? Are you worth it?”
“Come to think of it, I should actually thank you. If you hadn’t been so determined to stop them back then, how would I have had the chance to become Mr. Johnson’s grandson?”
“How would I have my current achievements?”
“So I should be thanking youâhow could I possibly hate you?”
Every word I spoke was light and breezy, yet each one stabbed into Patterson’s heart like a knife.
She was left speechless, her face alternating between red and white.
“Johnson? Stop spouting nonsense!”
She immediately sneered.
“You think just because your surname is Johnson, you’re related to the Johnson family?”
“Stop dreaming. Someone like you could never step through the Johnson family’s door!”
Just as she finished speaking, a black Bentley silently pulled up beside us.
The door opened and an elegant, distinguished woman stepped out.
She walked quickly to my side and naturally draped a coat over my shoulders.
Without even glancing at Patterson, she gently ruffled my hair.
“Holmes, why haven’t you left yet? Grandpa’s getting impatient.”
Only then did her gaze fall on Patterson.
“Holmes, who’s this?”
I hooked my arm for Jones to take, smiling brightly.
“Nothing, just a patient who came in today. We chatted for a bit.”
Patterson completely froze in place.
She looked at me and Jones’s intimate gestures in disbelief, then at the luxury car that proclaimed its owner’s status.
She wasn’t stupid. She of course recognized Jones, the eldest princess of Johnson Corporation.
She also of course knew that Jones had a younger brother who was treasured by the entire Johnson family.
She just never dreamed that brother would be me.
Images from her past life uncontrollably surfaced in her mindâthat boy who always followed behind her, timidly calling her Patterson.
And now, that boy was smiling radiantly as he offered his arm to another woman.
While she stood there dazed, I had already gotten into Jones’s car.
