Category: English

While the killer was stabbing me left and right, my dad was stitching up a teddy bear for my sister, one careful stitch at a time. He ignored every desperate call I made for help. “Super busy right now, don’t bug me unless it’s big.” Days later, Dad, a forensic pathologist, was teaching his students using a female cadaver he dissected himself. “The victim faced brutal treatment before her death, clinging fiercely to life until her last breath.” He opened up the cadaver and then sewed it back together, allowing each student to practice from sunrise to sunset. He identified every injury on the body but failed to realize, this body was me—his own daughter he resented so deeply. **** They found my corpse in a sewer shaft. A badly decomposed body reeking of death. The police, along with my Dad, the seasoned medical examiner, rushed to the scene. Upon arrival, Dad expertly handled my battered body, instructing his students to take down vital scene details. “The deceased is a young female, her face destroyed by sulfuric acid. We’ll need to gather DNA to identify her.” After assessing the situation, Dad took off his gloves. “Take her back for an autopsy.” His student nodded, moving to place me in a body bag, but the sight of my acid-disfigured face nearly made him sick. “Ugh…” Dad shook his head, “Can’t stomach it?” The student excused himself to vomit then returned pale-faced. “It’s not about handling it, sir, it’s just that this lady’s fate was too harsh…” Dad glanced again at the body bag holding me, nodding dispassionately, “Yeah, it’s a tough one.” Years as a medical examiner had numbed him to the horrors of death. But Dad, if you knew it was me, would you still be so composed? I watched them transport my body back to the police station and onto the autopsy table. Hovering above, I silently observed Dad as he donned a mask and gloves, preparing meticulously for the autopsy. Disinfecting, arranging, bowing, incising. The cold scalpel sliced through my body, causing even my soul to shudder involuntarily. It didn’t hurt. Compared to the thirty-seven stab wounds on my body, this was nothing. Dad’s movements were precise and skilled as he examined and noted each wound. He held my head, examining my face closely. Suddenly, he sensed something was amiss, his finger brushed my ear. I have a mole under my earlobe; he used to know about it. Dad touched the mole with his hand, and as he pondered, the students entered. Dad quickly turned around, pushing the thought aside. He removed his gloves and told the students, “This corpse is quite instructive, it’s rare to see one this decomposed. Have a go yourselves.” The students crowded around me, the harsh light from the autopsy table reflecting the cold steel of several scalpels. I no longer felt any pain and could only watch as Dad walked out of the autopsy room step by step. So close, Dad. You were so close to discovering that the body you were dissecting was your own daughter.   When the autopsy report was released, even the seasoned police officers furrowed their brows. The report stated clearly: [The deceased was a young woman under twenty-five, who had suffered severe abuse and multiple fractures before death.] Although stabbed thirty-seven times, none of the wounds were fatal; the actual cause of death was suffocation. After death, her face was disfigured with concentrated sulfuric acid, and all her fingerprints were erased. The head of the criminal investigation team, Tony Smith, closed the autopsy report with a mix of sorrow and anger, “Son of a bitch, absolutely inhuman!” Dad’s expression remained neutral, his years in the field having cultivated a remarkably calm demeanor. “Our first order of business is to find the killer and identify the victim as soon as possible,” he stated. Captain Smith, noticing a pink thread on Dad’s sleeve, queried, “Where did this come from?” A soft smile briefly crossed Dad’s typically stern face as he pocketed the thread. “Sophie’s teddy bear lost an ear, and I sewed it back on recently.” Tony looked astonished. “Your hands that dissect corpses can also mend toys?” Dad shot him a wry look. “Stitching is my specialty, you know that.” Tony smirked. “Sophie’s getting old for a teddy bear, isn’t she?” Dad stood up, his tone firm, “No matter her age, she’s still my little girl. And she’s been without her mother since she was young. I owe it to her to make up for that loss in any way I can.” As he was about to leave, Tony caught his arm. “Harper, you’ve got two daughters. You’re great with Sophie, why not show Emily some of that kindness?” At the mention of my name, Dad bristled and pulled away. “Don’t bring her up! She’s no daughter of mine!” Tony sighed, “I know you’re still torn up about your wife’s death, but Emily was just a little girl back then, it wasn’t her fault…” “Enough!” Dad cut him off sharply, “Intentional or not, wasn’t it all her doing? She killed her mother! She’s wrecked Sophie’s life, she’s been nothing but a curse on our family, I will never forgive her!” Dad stormed out, leaving Tony behind. They had been comrades for years, but because of me, he showed no mercy. My ghostly form crouched on the ground curled up. Oh, how I wished I could tell him – I didn’t kill Mom…

Unable to leave this world just yet, I followed Dad all the way home. Upon arrival, I saw Sophie rushing toward Dad with her pink teddy bear, beaming with joy. “Dad, did you fix this bear?” He caught her in a steady embrace, his smile warm and tender. “I did fix it. Do you like it?” “I love it! You’re the best, Dad!” They sat down to a cozy dinner, father and daughter, exuding warmth and affection. Sophie stirred her food and asked nonchalantly, “I haven’t seen my sister in a while. I wonder what she’s up to now?” Dad’s smile turned cold instantly. “Focus on your meal. Why bring her up? Even if she’s dead outside, it’s none of our concern.” Sophie, trying to soften him, replied, “Dad, you shouldn’t talk like that… she’s still my sister.” Dad slammed his forks down, “She doesn’t deserve to be your sister! You are my only daughter.” Sophie wrapped her arms around Dad, patting him soothingly. “Okay, Dad has only one daughter, and that’s me. I won’t bring her up again.” Dad finally calmed down and nodded in agreement. Sophie glanced at the family photo on the wall. My face was covered by a sticker in that photo. She smiled slightly to herself, content that Dad had affirmed her place. Only if I vanished from this world could she live without a shadow over her.   The year Sophie was born was filled with joy for our family. My parents told me, as the older sister, to treat Sophie as precious as the apple of my eye. Ever since I was a child, I would let her have the best of everything, placing her needs above my own life. Sophie relied on me heavily, always saying I was the most important person in her world. So when she accidentally knocked over a candle and set the house on fire, she sobbed, begging me not to reveal the truth. At fifteen, I carried my ten-year-old sister out of the blazing house, my legs scorched by the flames. I thought I had done something heroic, but we were unaware that our mother, who had just come home from a night shift, was asleep in the bedroom. My mother perished in the fire. It wasn’t until after the firefighters extinguished the flames that they discovered her charred remains. When Dad learned what happened, he broke down and blamed me entirely. “It’s all your fault! How could we have raised a daughter who would bring such tragedy? You’ve killed your own mother!” I was left defenseless, with only my tears to speak for me. I wanted to tell him it wasn’t my fault, that Sophie was the one who had lit the candle. But I had promised Sophie I would keep her secret, especially as she was hospitalized with severe trauma from the fire. I couldn’t say a word, could express nothing. In the pouring rain, Dad left me behind, as if I were nothing more than a stray dog. Eventually, Tony couldn’t stand by and watch; he took me in. I was barred from attending my mother’s funeral and was not allowed to say goodbye. I bowed deeply towards the direction of the crematorium until my forehead bled. I know I failed my mother and my father. And after the funeral, Sophie hugged me. “Thank you for not ruining my life,” she whispered. She also cautioned me, “The incident is in the past now. Don’t ever bring it up with Dad. Keep to the story as we’ve told it.”

Only the dead keep their secrets, a fact both Sophie and I knew all too well. Maybe her desire to kill me started years ago, but I never saw it coming. I thought taking the blame could heal our family, and maybe get us back to the good old days. But as time went by, Dad’s hatred for me only deepened. So on the anniversary of Mom’s death, I’d vanish for a while, this year included. Early this month, I moved in with my childhood buddy, Kelsey, to avoid upsetting Dad. But then, out of the blue, I got a call. It was the kidnappers, demanding ransom for Sophie. Sophie screamed on the phone, “Emily, save me!” She insisted, “Come alone, or they’ll kill me!” Being a forensic pathologist’s daughter, I was mentally prepared for such scenarios. I went alone with the ransom to the specified abandoned factory. There, I found Sophie, unharmed, standing with several burly men she had hired. My blood ran cold. Sophie pointed at me and coldly ordered, “That’s her, get rid of her, and leave no trace.” My own sister, whom I’ve cared for all my life, ready to betray me so cruelly. What happened next is a blur. In extreme pain, people tend to forget. All I remember is not wanting to die, desperately gasping for air. I struggled, leaving a trail of blood as I crawled, trying to call Dad for help with my smartwatch. The calls went through but were disconnected repeatedly. Dad wasn’t answering. Sophie’s hired thugs smashed my watch, taunting, “Still trying to call for help? Are you asking for death?” “The boss said it’s all fair game, just finish her off!” They stabbed me mercilessly, and broke my arms and legs as I tried to crawl forward. But I still clung to life. There was something I still hadn’t told Dad…

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My boyfriend is the person who loves me most in this world, and he’s always said he’ll never marry anyone but me. But before our wedding, I discovered he had anonymously answered a question: “What’s it like when two people who truly love each other can’t be together?”

My cousin came to stay with us after suffering severe psychological trauma from her father’s death in a car accident. She fell in love with my boyfriend, and everyone demanded that I give him up for her. Even my boyfriend said to me, “She’s been through enough. Why are you being so cruel to her?” Later, I was also in a car accident. While I was being resuscitated, she collapsed into his arms, crying, “So many people are grieving for her death, but no one cares that I’m alive.” I died on the operating table. She took my guaranteed college admission spot and married him. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day she first came to our house.

When I was five years old that Christmas, my mother and I died in a car accident. The people who orchestrated this crash were my father and my mother’s best friend. After collecting both insurance payouts, they got married and lived happily ever after. Occasionally, that woman would feel afraid: “What if they come back as vengeful spirits to get revenge on us?” Whenever this happened, my father would always mock her for being such a coward. But what they didn’t know was that I hadn’t actually died. And coming back alive for revenge, I would be far more terrifying than any ghost.

On our golden wedding anniversary, I, Amelia Mason, went to City Hall to check my personal records. The clerk was shocked to tell me: “Your file shows you’re unmarried and have never registered for marriage.” I was stunned: “That’s impossible. My husband Leon Reynolds and I have been married for fifty years.” He pulled up the records again: “Leon is indeed married, but his wife is named Willow Disick.” Willow was the widow of Leon’s older brother Roman Reynolds, who often traveled with the military as an army doctor. I returned home trembling and confronted Leon, who brazenly admitted: “I’ve been good enough to you in this lifetime. Willow is my true love—I only wanted to marry her and have children with her.” Even their child Liam Reynolds advised me: “To spare your feelings, my parents never made their marriage public. You’re not young anymore—what more could you want?” Only then did I realize that the child I had raised with my own hands wasn’t even my biological son. When Willow and I both went into labor, Leon secretly switched our babies so that Willow’s child could be raised by me, someone more educated. As for my biological child, Leon drowned him in a pond with his own hands right after birth. Ridiculously, I had treated Willow’s child as my own son, raising him through hardship and even sending him to New York University. Rage consumed me, everything went black, and I collapsed. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day I gave birth. ***** Familiar sharp pain hit me as I slowly opened my eyes to the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. “Amelia, look at our son—isn’t he adorable?” Leon stood beside the hospital bed holding a baby, his smile radiant. I looked around, then at Leon’s young face, finally realizing I had been reborn. I had returned to the day of delivery—the day Leon took my biological son away from me! At this thought, my heart raced with urgency. Ignoring the postpartum pain, I reached out and shouted: “Give me the baby!” Leon handed the infant to me without suspicion. I immediately pulled back the swaddling cloth and checked the child’s diaper, seeing the blue circular birthmark on his bottom. In that instant, my blood boiled. This was the son I had raised my entire life in my previous existence—Leon and Willow’s illegitimate child! Leon was still trying to deceive me, smiling calmly: “They say a birthmark on the bottom is a sign of good fortune. Our son will surely live comfortably and achieve great things.” I couldn’t help but laugh coldly. They wanted me to raise him for life, pouring my heart and soul into providing for his every need. I had sent him to New York University, yet he told me not to mind Leon and Willow’s affair. At this thought, I wanted to tear this family of three to pieces. But the most urgent matter was finding my son. Suppressing my rage, I asked Leon: “How is Willow doing? Is her baby alright?” A flicker of unease crossed Leon’s face: “She’s fine too, also had a son. You take care of the baby—I’ll go check on her.” With that, he got up and hurried away. I watched his retreating figure coldly, then called over a nurse and whispered a few instructions. Minutes later, I carried the baby to Willow’s room, where both she and Leon had been called away by the nurse. My son lay carelessly on the bed, his breathing weak. I didn’t hesitate and immediately switched the two babies back. Looking at the tiny bundle in my arms, my eyes welled up with tears. Even at our first meeting, I could clearly feel that this was truly my biological son. In my previous life, Leon had left under the pretense of “going to his post,” taking Willow along as a military doctor. The two lived happily in a distant place, coming back to ask me for money when they needed it, and visiting when they missed the child. Meanwhile, I was thoroughly deceived, devotedly caring for their child and toiling my entire life. Yet they enjoyed the fruits of my labor, getting a good son who made it into New York University for nothing. In this life, I would never let them succeed again. I would make them fall from grace!   Shortly after returning to the hospital room, Leon and Willow walked in together. The moment Willow entered, her eyes locked onto the child in my arms, her face lighting up with a brilliant smile. “Oh my, this child is so beautiful! He must be bright and clever.” Seeing that I had wrapped the baby in cotton cloth, she quickly added, “Why are you dressing the child in cotton? That’ll irritate his skin. Quick, change him into these silk ones!” She untied her bundle and pulled out a pile of fine, brand-new clothing. Then she eagerly stepped forward, wanting to take the child from my arms. I turned away, my tone cold: “He’s my child. I’ll take care of him.” Unable to hold the baby, Willow looked slightly displeased, but quickly forced a smile: “Yes, yes, you’re a college graduate after all. You’ll surely educate him well and help him rise above his station.” She gazed at my son with loving eyes, her expression radiating intense maternal warmth. At that moment, Leon spoke up: “Amelia, now that the child is born, we should give him a name. How about Liam?” Before the child’s birth, Leon had given me several name options, and he was particularly fond of Liam. I later learned that all those names had been chosen by him and Willow together in advance. What he liked was only what Willow liked. I immediately refused and picked a name he’d never mentioned: “No, I want to call him Waylon.” Leon’s expression darkened slightly: “Didn’t we agree to use the name I chose? Liam sounds so nice.” I let out a cold laugh and deliberately held out the child in my arms: “Then you raise him?” Of course he couldn’t take on that responsibility, so he fell silent. Willow looked somewhat unhappy and said in a strange tone: “Amelia, it’s fine that you’re naming him yourself, but you’d better treat the child well. I’m waiting to see him make you proud and become someone important.” I replied coolly: “Don’t trouble yourself. You should focus more on your own child.” At the mention of her child, Willow pursed her lips, unable to hide her disgust: “My child isn’t likeable at all. I get annoyed just looking at him.” Leon said: “He died less than a day after birth. Really unlucky.” I suddenly felt ice-cold all over, my palms breaking out in sweat. Just a little bit more, one step later, and I wouldn’t have been able to save my child. Yet when Leon and Willow spoke of that dead child, they both looked completely indifferent, without a trace of compassion. I couldn’t help but ask: “Did he really die naturally?” A flash of disdain crossed Leon’s eyes, his tone certain: “Of course he did. Newborns are fragile to begin with. A child without a father like that—it’s better off dead. Amelia, you need to take even better care of our son. He’s this family’s only hope.”

Willow didn’t refute Leon’s words at all. Instead, she remained expressionless, her gaze fixed on my son the entire time. She said, “Exactly. How could my son ever compare to Leon’s son? It’s better that he’s dead.” I lowered my eyes, hiding the mockery in them. I had always thought that Willow poured all her love into my son because she was devastated by losing her husband and child. Only now did I learn the truth and finally understand the reason behind all their strange behavior. Fighting back nausea, I brushed them off with a few perfunctory words. Afterward, I went to the morgue, where Willow’s son was indeed there. I carefully confirmed it was the child they had drowned with their own hands. On my way back to the ward, I deliberately took a less crowded path, only to run into Leon and Willow. They were locked in a tight embrace, kissing passionately in the corner. Willow panted as she nestled in Leon’s arms, breathlessly saying, “Leon, we finally got rid of that menace today. Since he’s your biological son, don’t you feel bad?” Leon’s eyes were tender as he replied without hesitation, “Why would I feel bad? I only acknowledge the one you gave birth to. I never wanted the child Amelia bore. Though she still has her uses. No matter how smart she is, she’ll obediently help us raise the child. Once we get to the garrison, no one will bother us anymore. Isn’t that what you’ve been looking forward to?” Willow blushed and playfully hit his chest. “Indeed.” I felt sick listening to this. While they were entangled, I picked up a brick and hurled it at them before running away. The two behind me were startled but didn’t dare make a scene, frantically looking around in panic. I had already returned to the front hall, where I borrowed a phone from a nurse and immediately called my supervisor Julian Wallace to request a transfer. I was one of the few college graduates in this place. After graduation, I married Leon and gave up many opportunities for him. Even when Julian suggested I develop my career in a big city, I declined because of my pregnancy. But now, I was no longer willing to be controlled by them. Even with a child, I was determined to leave this place. After being discharged and returning home, the first thing I did was find the fake marriage certificate. Leon, being the regiment commander, had somehow forged a convincing fake document, while he and Willow had secretly gone to city hall to get legally married. Ridiculously, I had treasured this fake certificate, preserving it like a precious keepsake for five years. I tore the document in half with force. Just as well. Since it was fake, I wouldn’t need to worry about divorce proceedings when I left in a month. Both Willow and I were recovering postpartum. She lay in bed every day, having everything handed to her, while Leon took care of her every need, personally feeding her everything. Sometimes when his behavior was too obvious and he feared exposure, he would explain to me, “Willow’s child died, and she’s heartbroken. I’m her only support now.” I remained silent. He seemed oblivious to my daily struggles caring for the child and never once asked if I was tired. Whenever the baby cried at night, Leon would get up irritably, saying he needed to sleep in another room, then head straight to Willow’s room. The next day, Willow would smile smugly, covering her mouth as she pretentiously asked, “Amelia, you’ve worked so hard. Look at those dark circles—you didn’t sleep all night, did you?” She was gloating, triumphant, unaware that I was also smiling when I turned away. To prepare for leaving, I quietly packed my things. Leon paid no attention and didn’t notice at all. Until that evening, when he came in holding an envelope, his face dark, “Amelia, what is this?” It was the transfer order Julian had sent.

I took the document without batting an eye and casually tossed it into the fireplace. “You know Julian has tried to transfer me more than once,” I said, “but I have a child. How could I possibly leave you all? It was just a notice, and I’ve already declined.” I knew exactly what Leon wanted to hear. That long-expired notice burned to ashes in the fire, as if it had never existed. He bought it completely, his expression immediately relaxing. “Good. Once a woman gets married, she should stay home and focus on raising the children. With all your skills, you’re perfect for teaching our son. The baby’s almost 100 days old now—I’m planning a simple celebration. After all, this is our family’s only son.” I smiled and agreed. Perfect. The more people who came, the better. The livelier the scene, the better. The day of the banquet arrived quickly, and Leon had indeed invited many people. He’d reserved the entire hall at the restaurant, bringing together various leaders and friends and family. Dressed to the nines, he greeted guests with a beaming smile. Willow stood beside him in elegant attire. The two looked more like a couple than ever. When the atmosphere reached its peak, Leon raised his glass in a toast, gazing at me with deep emotion. “Amelia, thank you for giving me a son. But I’m a soldier with a mission—I’ll be heading to my new post soon. I’m entrusting the child to you from now on. I’m confident you’ll raise him to be successful.” Willow chimed in with a bright smile, “As a military doctor, I’ll naturally accompany Leon. Don’t worry, Amelia—I’ll take good care of him. You just focus on raising the child at home.” The room filled with praise, everyone saying how they were sacrificing their small family for the greater good, putting duty first. I couldn’t help but clench my fists. Leon seemed to have forgotten how he’d once convinced me to give up my career and focus on homemaking. They showed such reluctance to leave the child, their expressions so sincere that even Leon’s superior, Eman Williams, nodded approvingly. “Even Willow loves this child like her own—it shows what a harmonious family you have. Leon, I’m confident entrusting this mission to you!” Leon practically grinned from ear to ear at the praise. A relative holding the baby studied his little face and said to me with a laugh, “Amelia, this child really looks like you. He’s going to be a handsome young man when he grows up.” Hearing this, Willow’s face darkened. She shot the person a fierce glare, then reached over to take the child. “Boys naturally look like their fathers. He clearly resembles Leon.” The relative glanced at me awkwardly, but I just smiled without saying anything. Willow held the baby, genuinely reluctant to part with what she considered her son. She wanted to spend more time with him before their separation. But after just a few minutes, the baby suddenly burst into tears, wailing right in her face. Willow let out a startled cry as the blanket became soaked. A relative quickly took the baby, offering helpfully, “Oh my, the baby wet himself. Let me help change his diaper.” Though Willow liked children, she’d never planned to actually take on the responsibility of caring for one—otherwise she wouldn’t have pushed the child onto me to raise. She immediately frowned and stepped back, watching as the relative began changing the diaper. But the moment the clothes were opened, her face went deathly pale and she let out a sharp, piercing scream. Leon heard the commotion and walked over. “What’s wrong? What’s all the fuss about?” Willow just stared at the child, her voice trembling violently. “Why doesn’t he have the birthmark?”

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I, Fiona Porter, made my first move after being reborn—I replaced the water in the pesticide bottle with actual poison. In my previous life, just as our family had started to accumulate some savings, my husband Daniel Jacobs failed in business and racked up $130,000 in debt. With guilt written all over his face, he said he didn’t want to drag me and his mother Mary Jacobs down with him, then committed suicide by drinking pesticide. To prevent creditors from coming to collect the debt, Mary hid all our remaining money inside the coffin. When the creditors couldn’t get their money, they forcibly took our house. I got my leg broken by them while trying to protect Mary. Unexpectedly, on the day of the funeral, Daniel’s coffin suddenly caught fire, and all the money burned to ashes. I single-handedly supported the family, working day and night to pay off debts while caring for Mary until she passed away, eventually ending up riddled with illness and gray-haired. When I could only survive by collecting scraps on the street, I stumbled upon Daniel, whom I hadn’t seen for years. He was walking down the street with his arm around a woman and child, well-dressed and living comfortably. “Daniel, you’re so clever—faking your death to escape the debts, then taking the money to remarry me,” the woman said with a laugh. Daniel responded coldly, “That woman was just too stupid. Since she took my place, it’s only right that she paid the money and did the work.” I was shocked beyond belief and died on the spot from the rage. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Daniel faked his death by drinking pesticide. ***** “Fiona, I’ve wronged you. Not only did I lose all our money, but I also owe $130,000. I deserve to die!” “I can’t drag you down with me. I might as well just die—death cancels all debts!” Daniel knelt before me, crying his heart out, having even prepared a coffin in advance. Tears streaming down his face, filled with remorse, he grabbed the pesticide bottle and was about to pour it into his mouth. In my previous life, I was too shocked to react and couldn’t stop him in time. This time, I reacted quickly, rushing forward to grab his wrist tightly and tilting the bottle outward. The entire bottle of “pesticide” spilled onto his clothes and the floor—not a single drop went down Daniel’s throat. Ignoring his ugly expression, I threw away the bottle and gripped his hands tightly. I said, “Daniel, life is far more important than money. Please don’t do anything foolish!” “No matter how difficult things get, there’s always a way out. I’ll give you my savings to pay off the debt—we’ll figure this out together!” I looked at him with worry written all over my face, appearing completely devoted to his well-being. The moment he heard about money, a flash of desire flickered in his eyes, and he asked urgently, “Really? You’re willing to give me your money?” I sneered inwardly: “He’s putting on such a performance—isn’t it all for my money?” I said, “Of course. We’re husband and wife—if I don’t help you, who will?” After some persuasion, Daniel appeared to abandon his suicidal thoughts and excitedly went to get my money. Watching the barely concealed excitement in his eyes, my heart turned ice-cold. In my previous life, he had used the excuse of paying off debts to swindle my money. Then he faked his death by drinking pesticide to make off with all our family savings and run away with another woman. Meanwhile, I had my leg broken by creditors while trying to protect Mary and that empty coffin supposedly containing money, and I was left with massive debts. I had to care for Mary and spent my entire life paying off debts, eventually reduced to surviving by collecting scraps. But Daniel remarried someone else and lived happily with his family of three. Thank God I was given a second chance at life. Since Daniel was determined to drink pesticide, this time water wouldn’t be enough—let’s make it the real deal.

I took out all my savings and gave them to Daniel to pay off his debts. Even Mary, who had always been prejudiced against me, looked puzzled, clearly not expecting me to be so forthcoming. Wiping away my tears, I said, “Mary, Daniel and I are husband and wife. His debts are our debts, and I’ll definitely help him pay them off.” “Good thing you still have some money. Whether we’ll be able to afford meat in the future depends on you.” Mary immediately became alert and glared at me irritably: “I knew you had ulterior motives! That’s my retirement money—why should it be spent on you two!” She turned and went into the house, brought out her savings, and handed them to Daniel: “Take this money and use it too.” The two exchanged a knowing glance, and Daniel took it without hesitation, practically walking away with all the cash in the house. I knew he wouldn’t use it to pay off debts—he’d just take the money and run, leaving me alone to bear the $130,000 debt. But that was fine. He wouldn’t need that money much longer anyway. Early the next morning, the sound of slamming doors came from outside the courtyard. A group of tall, burly men stormed to our doorstep, all looking fierce. Their leader, Owen Freeman, had a knife scar across his cheekbone. He kicked open the courtyard gate and struck his club heavily against the stone, creating a loud bang. “Daniel,” he said, “time to pay up, don’t you think?” In my previous life, when these men came to the door, he had already faked his death and escaped. This time, I wouldn’t let him succeed. I quickly hid behind Daniel, my voice trembling as I shouted, “Who are you people? How dare you break into our home! Daniel, help me!” As I spoke, I pushed him forward a step, making him stand at the very front. The moment Daniel saw them, his face turned deathly pale and his body involuntarily shuddered. His legs went weak as he swallowed hard: “Owen, $130,000 is just too much. I really can’t pay it back.” Owen flashed a menacing smile, the scar on his face twitching along with it. “You can’t pay it back?” he said. “That’s not what you said when you borrowed the money. Don’t even think about defaulting!” Our commotion attracted nearby neighbors, many of whom poked their heads out to look, though none dared approach—they only watched from a distance. “Wasn’t Daniel’s family supposed to be well-off? Who would’ve thought they’d suddenly owe $130,000.” “When will they ever pay that back? This business venture wasn’t worth it.” “Great, now they didn’t make any money, and the creditors are at their door instead.” More and more onlookers gathered, chattering among themselves. Daniel’s face flushed red as he shouted loudly, “I don’t have money, but I have my life! If you keep pushing me, I’ll just give you this life of mine!” Owen snorted with derision, looking at him mockingly: “You think you’re worth $130,000?” Everyone thought Daniel was just bluffing, but the next second, he actually pulled out a bottle of pesticide from his jacket. “Death cancels all debts,” he said. “Fiona, for you and Mom’s sake, I can only make up for this with my life. After I die, just put me in the coffin we already bought—don’t waste money, and bury me quickly.” He spoke with tragic heroism, not forgetting to earn himself a good reputation. As soon as he finished speaking, he tilted his head back and gulped down the pesticide. He drank it urgently and forcefully, as if afraid I might stop him. The crowd watched in shock as he threw away the bottle and began foaming at the mouth, convulsing all over. I rushed over crying, “Daniel, don’t leave me! How can I live without you!” Before I could get close, Mary was already wailing and threw her arms around Daniel as he collapsed: “My son! How could you kill yourself? You’re my only son!” She pushed me away roughly: “Don’t come near! Nobody touch my son!” I sat down on the ground, covering my face with my hands as I wept, looking utterly helpless. Owen frowned, looking at Daniel who kept rolling his eyes and drooling, and spat in disgust: “You’ve got guts, but don’t think death will get you out of paying. We’ll be back tomorrow!” The debt collectors left, and Daniel lay in Mary’s arms, his breathing growing weaker and weaker. He was covered in cold sweat, his body convulsing intermittently. The watching neighbors were also shaken by this scene. Someone quietly advised, “You should hurry and get him to the hospital—maybe he can still be saved.” But Mary responded coldly, “Go to the hospital for what? Those places just steal your money! Do you think our family doesn’t owe enough already?” She held Daniel tightly, refusing to let go no matter who tried to persuade her.

Watching Daniel’s breathing grow weaker and weaker, he tremblingly tugged at Mary’s sleeve with his shaking hand. “Mom, save me.” Mary thought it was still about the money and quickly said, “Don’t worry, we won’t let you down. We’ll definitely hide the money safely.” Daniel shook his head desperately, but to outsiders it looked like just a slight movement. He barely managed to squeeze out a voice: “Help me.” I immediately burst into loud tears, wailing heartbreakingly: “Daniel, how could this happen to you? Being pushed to this point—don’t die!” Daniel couldn’t catch his breath, his eyes rolled back, and he nearly passed out on the spot. A neighbor urged me, “Fiona, hurry up and take your husband to the hospital. Just lying there like this—isn’t that just waiting to die?” I cried until I was delirious, standing up sluggishly, but Mary rushed over and grabbed me. “You can’t go! Daniel is still lying here, and instead of caring for him, you’re running off to find some doctor?” She blocked me in every way possible, and others couldn’t help but advise, “Mary, Daniel isn’t dead yet. You need to find a doctor to save his life quickly. If you won’t go, fine, but why are you stopping Fiona?” Mary obviously couldn’t say it out loud, stammering for a long time without making any sense. Just then, a voice came from the crowd: “Let me through, I’ll take a look!” Someone shouted with delight: “Dr. Nelson is here!” Derek Nelson, a doctor who happened to be passing by, immediately ran over. Taking one look at Daniel’s complexion, he said gravely: “His condition is very serious. He must be rushed to a major hospital immediately.” But Mary held on even tighter: “No!” As a doctor, Derek couldn’t worry about anything else at this moment and directly took Daniel from Mary’s arms. He shouted urgently: “It’ll be too late if we wait any longer. Please, everyone help!” Some neighbors came forward to carry Daniel, others continued persuading Mary to agree to medical treatment, and someone even brought over their tricycle. The scene was complete chaos. When the vehicle arrived, everyone worked together to lift Daniel onto the tricycle. But Mary suddenly threw herself at the wheels, crying and shouting: “Where are you taking my son? Give him back to me!” I pleaded with her through red-rimmed eyes: “Mary, the doctor said Daniel can still be saved. He can definitely be cured!” Mary became even more agitated, shrieking: “No! How do I know if you’re really trying to save him? I know my son best. He’s beyond saving—there’s no point going to the hospital!” Her decisive words shocked everyone, who found it incomprehensible: “You’re his own mother! Without even trying, you’re just letting your son wait to die. That’s too heartless.” Mary angrily shot back: “What do you know? I naturally have my reasons.” No one understood her “reasons.” But the next second, everyone saw the dying Daniel begin to vomit violently. At first it was ordinary vomit, and people around instinctively pinched their noses and stepped back. But within seconds, Daniel actually started vomiting blood—massive amounts of fresh blood poured from his mouth as if his stomach had burst open. While everyone was still in shock, Mary had already rushed over and snatched Daniel back into her arms. She put her hands on her hips and shouted: “I told you he couldn’t be taken to the hospital! Now look what happened—all this moving around made my son vomit blood!” A neighbor spat and pointed at her, scolding: “We were trying to save your son out of kindness. The tricycle was ready, but you were the only one blocking us. Now we’re the ones in the wrong for trying to help!” I desperately pleaded: “Mary, if you keep blocking us, Daniel really will be beyond saving!” Mary turned and slapped me: “You bitch! Your husband just had an accident, and you’re already siding with outsiders against me!” I covered my face and cried: “But Daniel keeps vomiting blood!” The blood seemed endless. After Mary put him on the ground, fresh blood flowed from both corners of his mouth, pooling beneath him. Mary looked down and panicked a little, holding Daniel and saying softly: “Daniel, we’re not going to the hospital. Stop vomiting blood—you’re fine now.” The villagers around looked at her like she was crazy, but I understood—she still thought Daniel was acting. Derek took the opportunity to run over and carefully examine Daniel, checking his pulse. After confirming that Daniel had completely stopped moving, he withdrew his hand and said gravely: “It’s too late. He drank too much pesticide—his stomach has been corroded. My condolences.” Mary instinctively retorted: “Impossible! You quack doctor!” She glared viciously at Derek but didn’t notice that Daniel’s face had turned blue and his lips purple. I said quietly: “Mary, you may not know how to treat illness, but surely you can tell whether someone is still breathing.” Hearing this, Mary looked toward Daniel, who had long since stopped breathing, and tremblingly extended her finger toward his nose. Two seconds later, her face went deathly pale, and she collapsed to the ground.

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Five months after I, Maisie Stewart, gave birth, my husband Eric Crawford suddenly asked me for a divorce. His attitude was unusually resolute—he was even willing to give up his share of our assets. Just as I was on the verge of an emotional breakdown, I witnessed him walking out of a hotel with someone, their demeanor intimate and suggestive. I recognized that person. He was the only groomsman at my Christmas wedding.

The day I found out I was pregnant, my husband Brandon’s secretary, Jenna, posted a photo of her baby bump on Instagram. The caption read, [As long as you’re loved, you can still be a beautiful girl–even when you’re pregnant!] In the picture, she was wearing nothing but lace lingerie, leaning into Brandon’s chest while they took a selfie. His hand was resting on her bare, swollen belly. On his finger was the exact same wedding ring as mine. I commented, [Congrats.] Seconds later, my phone rang. Jenna was on the other end, frantic. She apologized, claiming she posted the picture to get back at her boyfriend after a fight. Brandon grabbed her phone and snapped at me, “You can’t have a baby, so now you’re losing it seeing someone else pregnant? No wonder you can’t get pregnant with all that jealousy.” Five minutes later, Jenna posted again: [Soon, I’ll have two strong men protecting me!] And Brandon liked it immediately. I took off my wedding ring, tossed it into some bushes, and headed back to the hospital to schedule an abortion. For once, Brandon made it home before 9 p.m. He noticed the untouched fertility meds in the trash and frowned. “Throwing a tantrum over something so small?” I kept my voice steady. “I’m not angry.” He laughed mockingly. “You threw away your fertility meds, but sure, you’re not mad. Do whatever you want. But remember, you’re the one who’s desperate, not me.” I was about to show him my pregnancy report when he handed me a dark shoebox. “This is from Jen. She’s young, and doesn’t know any better. She freaked out when she saw you upset and said something as dumb as talking about abortion. She wanted to send you a gift to apologize.” He opened the box. Inside was a pair of YSL heels. But they were obviously Jenna’s. The soles were worn, and the paint on the heel was chipped. “Take them. They weren’t cheap, and she barely wore them. She’s only been working for a short time, so she doesn’t have much. But giving you these shoes really hurt her,” Brandon said. I let out a dry laugh. Thirty minutes before he got home, Jenna had posted on Instagram, flaunting her brand-new Chanel sandals with the caption: “To the best boss in the world! Thanks for your obvious favoritism–it gives me the confidence to show off!” When I didn’t take the shoes, Brandon’s expression hardened. “Sylvia, what’s your problem? You’re almost 30, and you’re still giving a young girl a hard time? Is this really necessary?” He threw the box at me, hitting me square on the head. I groaned, grabbing my forehead as tears filled my eyes. Brandon looked alarmed. “I didn’t mean to do that. Let me see.” I pulled away as he reached out. “I’m fine,” I muttered. Ignoring me, he pried my fingers away from my forehead, seeing the swelling. His face darkened. “This doesn’t look fine. Stay here. I’ll get some ice.” Before I could stop him, his phone rang. The screen lit up, showing the caller ID: “Little Trouble,” dripping with affection. “Brandon!” Jenna’s voice came through. Hearing her whimpering, Brandon tensed. “Jen, don’t cry. What’s wrong?” “I have a stomachache,” Jenna sniffled. “I want to go to the ER, but I got on the wrong subway and I don’t even know where I am.” Brandon frowned. “Why didn’t you call me when you decided to go to the hospital? We agreed I’d drive you.” Jenna’s voice was timid. “I was dumb again today and made Sylvia mad. I didn’t want to bother you both.” Brandon’s tone turned serious. “Jen, you’re pregnant. Nothing is more important than that. Send me your location on WhatsApp, and I’ll come get you.” “No! Brandon, I can get to the hospital on my own, really. Don’t forget, today’s Sylvia’s ovulation day. You need to stay with her and make sure you two have a baby!” Brandon chuckled. “Silly girl, one more time with her isn’t going to magically get her pregnant. You’re what matters right now. Send me your location.” He hung up the phone and gave me an exasperated look. “Did you hear that? Jen’s so concerned about you, and all you can do is act paranoid. I’m taking her to the hospital. I’ll grab some ice packs for you on the way back.” He snatched his car keys, ready to head out. “Brandon, wait,” I called out. He spun around, clearly at the end of his patience. “Sylvia, can you stop? This is about two lives–hers and the baby’s! Don’t turn this into some jealous tantrum.” I didn’t bother trying to defend myself. Instead, I walked over to the coat closet, grabbed the jacket he’d worn a few days ago, and pulled out a card. “Jenna’s insurance card. You’ll need it.” Jenna never bothered with handling her own appointments; Brandon always kept her insurance card. For a second, Brandon looked surprised. Then he finally reached out and took it. “Thanks.” He looked like he wanted to say something more, but I cut him off. “Drive safe.” I reached up and straightened his collar, just like I always did when he left. Deep down, I knew this would be the last time. Brandon’s expression softened slightly like something in him had shifted. He grasped my hand and pulled me closer to his chest. “I’ll be back soon. Wait for me.”

I didn’t wait. After sending a quick text to my lawyer about starting the divorce process, I went to bed early. In the middle of the night, a notification from WhatsApp woke me up. It was 1 a.m., and as expected, the other side of the bed was still empty. I checked my phone and saw several messages from Jenna. [Brandon is just so hot!] [I wanna eat him up while he’s sleeping!] Attached was a photo of Brandon asleep. His head rested on her pink cartoon pillow, his hair tousled, lips slightly parted in a way that once made my heart skip a beat. When she saw the “typing…” indicator appear at the top of the chat, Jenna quickly deleted the messages and sent me an emoji of a cat begging for forgiveness. [Oops! Meant to send those to my bestie, but accidentally sent them to you. I was just messing around–don’t be mad! Brandon’s already knocked out.] She probably expected me to blow up her phone with angry calls, like I had before. But this time, I just blocked her and went back to sleep. Whether she was playing games or being serious didn’t matter anymore. The next morning, they showed up at work together. Jenna, always trying to be delicate, tripped over her own feet, her face going pale with fear. Without hesitation, Brandon scooped her up and carried her into the office. Her cheeks flushed, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, glancing back at me with a smug grin. One of my coworkers sidled up to me, whispering, “Can you believe that girl? Jenna doesn’t even know how to work the copier, let alone anything else. How has she been Mr. Louis’s secretary for half a year? You don’t think he’s, like, actually into her, do you?” I was busy texting my lawyer and nodded absentmindedly. “Maybe.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I heard Brandon’s voice. “Sylvia, come with me.” I turned around to find him standing right behind me, his eyes cold and unfeeling. No one in the office knew we were married. Brandon was adamant about enforcing the company’s no-office-romance policy, so to everyone else, I was just another senior employee. At work, he always kept his distance. Once, when I had a 104-degree fever and could barely stand, I went to him, hoping he’d take me to the hospital. But he brushed me off, worried about what people might think, and told me to get HR to give me the day off. Yet, if Jenna so much as whispered about a stomach ache, Brandon would cancel meetings and rush her to the doctor. I followed him into his office, watching as he gently told Jenna to go rest in the back room. Once we were alone, Brandon came over and grabbed my hand, his voice low. “Still mad?” I pulled my hand away, keeping my tone distant. “I told you, I’m not mad.” He placed his hands on my shoulders, his eyes drilling into mine. “Don’t lie to me. I didn’t come home last night, and you didn’t even call or text. And you expect me to believe you’re not upset?” I frowned, confused. “Jenna was with you, right? She’s your secretary. She’d take care of you.” His expression darkened, and his grip on my shoulders tightened. I winced from the pressure and tried to pull away. In the struggle, he shoved me onto the couch. As I pushed myself up, my hand brushed against something. I tugged at it and pulled a pink lace bra from between the cushions. The anger drained from Brandon’s face as soon as he saw it. “That’s…” I didn’t care to hear his explanation. I tossed the bra back onto the couch, my voice calm. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going, Mr. Louis.” After work, I had a meeting with a client. Just as I stepped outside, Brandon’s car pulled up in front of me. “Get in. We’ll drop Jen off first, then head to that seafood buffet by the water.” Jenna poked her head out from the passenger seat, grinning. “Sorry, Sylvia, I’m hitching a ride again!” I was busy trying to hail a cab, and without looking at her, I said, “You two go ahead. I’m allergic to seafood.” Brandon’s face turned dark immediately. He knew I wasn’t allergic to seafood. In fact, that buffet was one of my favorites. He opened his mouth, ready to say something, but I didn’t give him a chance. I walked around his car and got into a cab across the street.

What I didn’t expect was for Brandon and Jenna to follow me to the restaurant. My client hadn’t arrived yet, but the two of them sat down across from me like it was perfectly normal. I stared at them in disbelief before cutting straight to the point. “I’m meeting with Mr. Anderson from Gem Technologies.” Brandon raised an eyebrow. “Did Mr. Anderson say he didn’t want to see me?” I kept quiet and didn’t argue. After all, Brandon was still my boss. During the meal, Johnson Anderson instructed his assistant to open a bottle of expensive wine. I frowned, remembering what the doctor said when I scheduled the abortion. “You’ve already had one miscarriage from the car accident, and your uterus was severely damaged. The fact that you’re pregnant again is a miracle. If you lose this baby, you may never get another chance.” I pressed my lips together, about to politely decline the wine when Jenna chimed in with a sweet smile. “I’ve heard Sylvia can really hold her liquor. Can’t wait to see it in action!” She looked wide-eyed and innocent like she had no idea what she was doing. My expression went cold as I asked her, “Who told you that?” Jenna’s smile froze, and she glanced nervously at Brandon. “Did I say something wrong again?” Brandon patted her on the head and turned to me, his tone icy. “Sylvia, it’s just a glass of wine. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” A chill crept through me. Meeting his indifferent gaze, I forced a smile and spoke clearly. “Mr. Louis, I can’t drink. Because I’m pregnant.” Everyone at the table froze. Jenna was the first to recover. She quickly masked the look in her eyes, standing up to raise her glass to me. “Congratulations, Sylvia!” As she brought the glass to her lips, Brandon immediately stopped her. “Jen, you’re pregnant too. No drinking.” For once, Jenna didn’t listen. “No, I have to! Ever since I joined the company, I’ve upset Sylvia so many times. This drink is my apology!” She grew more emotional with each word, tilting her head back and downing the wine in one go. Her face flushed red instantly, and she started coughing violently, tears welling up in her eyes. Brandon’s face twisted in frustration as he shot up from his seat, pointing at me. “Is this what you wanted? Only someone as gullible as Jen would fall for your lies! If anything happens to our baby because of you, I’ll never forgive you!” I barely looked at him, my voice flat. “Do whatever you want.” I turned to Johnson, muttering a quick apology before heading out the door. Brandon’s voice followed me, full of anger. “Sylvia, I’ve had it with you! You’ve got a problem with everything Jen does. If you can’t deal with her, maybe we should just get a divorce!” That caught me off guard for a second, but I quickly shrugged it off. We’d been married five years, and in all that time, he never once made our relationship public. Now, just to make me back down to Jenna, he was finally admitting it. I stared at his face, handsome but distorted with fury, and nodded. “Alright. Let’s get divorced.” Without another word, I walked out. After leaving the hotel, I called my divorce lawyer. Mid-conversation, a sudden blinding light flashed in front of me. A car was speeding straight toward me, out of control. Panic shot through me, my legs went weak, and I stumbled backward. Just when I thought it was over, the driver slammed the brakes, swerved, and sped off. I was left sitting on the ground, shaken. A girl passing by rushed over to help me. Her hand barely touched my waist when she gasped. “Oh my God! You’re bleeding so much!” I looked down in a daze, finally noticing the large pool of blood spreading around me. At the hospital, the doctor asked me to contact a family member. I clutched my phone, staring at Brandon’s number for a long moment, before deciding to call my lawyer instead. I couldn’t forget the license plate on that car–it was the same as Brandon’s. We’d chosen that number together.   I stayed in the hospital until noon the next day. While I was there, Brandon sent me one message: Jen’s ceiling is leaking, so I’m taking her back to our place. I knew right away it wasn’t from him–it had Jenna’s fingerprints all over it. When I got home, the door code didn’t work. As I was about to try again, the door opened from the inside. Jenna stood there in my apron, smiling brightly. “Sylvia, you’re finally home! The old code was too hard for me to remember, so Brandon changed it to my birthday. Come in, I’ll get you some water!” She welcomed me like she owned the place. The smell of food drifted in from the kitchen. She ran to the doorway and called out, “Brandon, Sylvia’s back!” Brandon stepped out, wearing the same couple’s apron I’d bought for him. He used to say it was too childish and refused to wear it. Now that I saw him in it, I thought he looked ridiculous. He glanced at me briefly and said softly to Jenna, “Go rest in the bedroom for a bit.” Jenna nodded, grabbed a bag of nuts and snacks, and disappeared into my bedroom. It was just me and Brandon now. His expression hardened. “So, you finally decided to come home?” I ignored the accusation in his tone and asked calmly, “Jenna… is eating nuts?” I remembered when Jenna first got pregnant. I’d made her a special meal, and I’d sprinkled a few nuts on it. She’d had a severe allergic reaction, and Brandon had lost it on me. Brandon frowned, clearly confused. “What are you talking about?” It was obvious he didn’t remember. I wasn’t about to explain it. “Never mind.” He didn’t push, just looked me over. “Anyway, go freshen up. It’s Jen’s birthday, and I’ve booked a private room at the karaoke bar. Just keep it light on the makeup, okay? Don’t outshine the birthday girl.” I shot back without thinking, “I’m busy. You guys go ahead.” Brandon frowned, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Jen already told her friends we’re throwing her a birthday party. If you don’t show up, it’ll be embarrassing for her. Look, I know you’re feeling jealous because she’s young and can have kids, but it’s not Jen’s fault you can’t get pregnant. Why keep competing with her? Here’s the deal: you celebrate her birthday tonight, and I’ll grant you a wish later. You can pick anywhere you want to travel.” I hesitated for a moment, then smiled and said, “Okay.” That evening, I put on my best makeup and arrived at the KTV room right on time. When Brandon spotted me, he was momentarily speechless. He walked over and took my hand, looking a little awestruck. Jenna’s expression shifted slightly, but she quickly regained her composure and introduced me to her friends, acting all graceful and charming. Her long-distance boyfriend lounged in the corner, lazily blowing smoke rings as if he were the king of the room. A waiter wheeled in the three-tier cake Brandon had ordered for her, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. As she made her wishes, Jenna clasped her hands together, her smile radiant and serene, like a princess. “I have three wishes! First, Brandon can’t call me a little troublemaker anymore!” “Second, Brandon can’t ignore Sylvia because of me!” “Third, I wish I could pass my easy-pregnancy genes to Sylvia so she can have a baby for my brother soon!” Just as she finished speaking, my bag slipped from my hand, and a piece of paper tumbled out. Brandon picked it up, and when he saw the words “Post-Abortion Care Instructions” printed on it, his face went pale. “Sylvia, what’s this?”

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Seven months into my pregnancy, I accidentally overheard a conversation between my husband and the poor student I had been sponsoring. “Stephen, if your wife finds out that the baby in her womb is actually our fertilized egg, she might get so angry that she’d kill herself, don’t you think?” Rosie said and chuckled softly. “It’d be better if she did. That way, all her assets would be mine,” Stephen coldly answered. “The only problem is if she decides to divorce me and kick me out. That’s why we need to keep this secret. Once our child inherits her assets, we’ll deliver her a crushing blow.” That night, I pretended I didn’t hear a thing. I gave birth to the child and raised him with utmost care. Twenty-four years later, after my son returned from studying abroad, I transferred all my company shares and assets to his name. At a press conference, Rosie, the impoverished student before, holding my husband’s arm and clutching a maternity test report. She walked straight up to me and declared, “Kian is my biological son. You’ve been taking him from me all these years. It’s time to return him to me now.” My son also threw a divorce agreement in my face, his words cold and ruthless. “Hurry up and divorce my Dad so we can finally reunite as a family of three. Considering you gave birth to and raised me, I’ll give you a monthly allowance of two hundred dollars.” I smirked faintly and replied, “Alright.” … “Wife, weren’t you supposed to attend a board meeting at the company today? Why are you still working in the study?” Stephen walked in with a cup of hot milk, placing it gently in front of me, his voice as tender as ever. I closed my laptop and smiled up at him. “Kian’s teacher mentioned he’s been coughing a bit lately. I’ve arranged for him to see the best pediatric specialist tomorrow.” Touched, Stephen stroked my hair and said, “You always get so concerned whenever Kian has even the slightest discomfort. When he grows up, he’ll definitely repay your kindness with filial devotion.” I looked at Stephen and replied matter-of-factly, “Of course. I’m Kian’s mother. If I don’t look after him, who will?” Moved by my words, Stephen smiled warmly. “You’re amazing. Marrying you and raising a child with you has been the greatest blessing of my life.” I met his gaze, his eyes filled with affection, and I offered him a faint smile without saying a word. Stephen and I had been together for ten years—three years of dating and seven years of marriage. During this decade, he had always cared for me when I was sick or tired, surprised me in unexpected ways, and held me tightly during moments of passion, whispering that he would love me forever. Had I not overheard that conversation that day, I would never have believed that the man who claimed to love me so deeply could betray me like this. “Aunt Rosie, you’re finally here!” Kian’s delighted voice suddenly echoed from the living room. I immediately got up and walked out of the study, only to see Rosie stepping through the door. She effortlessly scooped my son into her arms and planted a playful kiss on his cheek. “Baby Kian, did you miss me?” As she spoke, her gaze fell on me, her smile freezing, her expression momentarily unnatural. Before she could say anything, Stephen quickly stepped forward to explain. “Wife, there was a parent-child outdoor activity at Kian’s kindergarten today. I figured you’d be busy with work, so I didn’t bother you. I asked Rosie to help out instead.” Rosie put down Kian, and immediately chimed in nervously, “Yes, yes, Daphne, you’ve supported me for so many years. I’ve always been grateful and wanted to repay your kindness. The moment I got Stephen’s call, I rushed right over.” Watching her flustered attempts to cover up her guilt, I couldn’t help but recall the day my son was born. Rosie had also accompanied Stephen to the hospital under the pretext of visiting the baby, staying by his side as I endured labor.   At that time, Rosie was incredibly excited, pacing back and forth in the hallway, wringing her hands nervously. When she saw that I had given birth to a son, she immediately rushed over, grabbing the baby and refusing to let go. Her eyes were brimming with joy, turning red with excitement. The nurse, unable to hold back a chuckle, teased her, “Who are you to the child? You seem even more excited than the mother!” Rosie looked embarrassed but quickly tried to explain when she noticed I was silent. “Daphne, I couldn’t help myself! Kian is just too adorable, and I accidentally gave him a kiss. You’re not mad, are you?” I smiled slightly and responded calmly, “Of course not. I’m so busy with work that I sometimes neglect my family. I’m grateful that you’re willing to help take care of Kian.” Hearing this, both Rosie and Stephen breathed a sigh of relief. My son then ran up to me, his innocent eyes looking straight into mine as he asked, “Mom, are you going to the office today, or will you go to kindergarten with Dad and me?” I gently patted his head and asked, “What does Kian want Mommy to do?” Without hesitation, he replied, “I want Mommy to go to work, and Aunt Rosie can take Daddy and me to kindergarten!” As though afraid Kian would say something inappropriate, Stephen quickly pulled him into his arms and explained to me, “Sweetheart, Kian just doesn’t want to distract you from work. Last time, he even told me not to bother you because you’re working so hard.” Rosie nodded in agreement. “Kian is such a considerate child. Only someone as outstanding as you, Daphne, could have such an obedient son.” Smiling, I said to my son, “Alright, let’s do as Kian says.” Hearing this, Kian jumped up and down with joy. He completely ignored my presence, grabbing Rosie and Stephen’s hands and dragging them outside. Watching their happy little “family of three,” I allowed myself a faint smile, turned around, and went back to my study to continue my unfinished work. Perhaps they thought I was easy to fool, that I’d never notice anything strange, so Rosie grew bolder by the day. At first, she would sneak around with Stephen while I was at work. But now, even when I was home, she’d find all sorts of excuses to visit. “Daphne, I’ve been teaching myself how to cook recently. I wanted to make something delicious to thank you for all your help over the years.” “Daphne, I just came back from the countryside and brought some local specialties for you.” “Daphne, I’ve quit my job to start a business, but I’m short on startup funds. Can you help me out?”

Although I knew deep down that Rosie’s visits were all excuses to see my son and Stephen, I never refused her. Whenever she came, I always welcomed her politely. I even agreed to all her requests for help. Stephen seemed delighted with this arrangement. Whenever Rosie came over, his lips would curl into an uncontrollable smile. Sometimes, he’d even flirt with her openly in front of me, exchanging knowing glances and secret smiles. Even my son grew more and more attached to Rosie, going so far as to buy her a pair of house slippers so she could visit anytime she wanted. This life continued until my son’s college entrance exams. On the day the results were released, Rosie arrived at our house early in the morning to wait with us. When we saw my son’s shockingly low score, Stephen furrowed his brows in anger. “How could you score this poorly?” he snapped. My son, however, remained nonchalant.   “So what? Our family has money. Mom can just buy me a spot at any school she wants!” Kian declared carelessly. Stephen gave me a subtle glance. Seeing that I didn’t react, he continued, “Your mom may love you, but she can’t indulge you like this! Running the company alone isn’t easy for her. You need to show some ambition. How else will you help her or make her feel confident enough to hand the company over to you one day?” Rosie chimed in earnestly, “Kian, your dad is right. Even though Daphne is your mom and will always take care of you, you need to develop your own capabilities. Otherwise, how will you earn the respect of the seasoned executives when you take over the company?” Watching the two of them echo each other, I smiled faintly and said calmly, “It’s fine. I’ve already planned everything for Kian. I’ll send him abroad for further studies. Once he’s back, he’ll naturally take over the company. After all, everything I have is for Kian.” Hearing this, the three of them smiled contentedly. I smiled too—but for a different reason. They thought I was naive. I thought they were laughably foolish. During the process of arranging his study abroad, I took my son to the company every day, teaching him the ins and outs of the business without reservation. On the day of his departure, Stephen accompanied him to the airport, gripping his hand tightly, his face filled with reluctance. Rosie also made a special trip, bringing a pile of things for my son, worried about his life in a foreign country. The two of them gave him endless reminders, creating a warm and touching scene—a true depiction of parents’ worry when their child travels far away. After my son boarded the plane, they watched it ascend into the sky, their eyes brimming with tears until it disappeared from view. Only then did they leave, reluctantly, with tears still glistening. Once my son left for his studies, Rosie visited our house less frequently, but Stephen began going out more often. Each time he returned, he seemed utterly drained. When I asked about it, he’d claim he was out with friends or had joined a gym to stay fit. On days he ran out of excuses, he’d feign sadness, sighing dramatically,. “I raised Kian with my own hands. He’s never been away from me for this long. I can’t help but miss him. If I don’t find something to occupy myself, I’ll fall apart.” Ignoring the lingering scent of Rosie’s signature perfume on him, I smiled and reassured him, “Kian will be back soon. Then, we can all be together again.” Stephen’s lips curved into a faint smile, laden with hidden meaning. “Yes, soon, our family of three will be reunited.” Four years later, my son returned from studying abroad. Just like old times, Rosie showed up early at my house, accompanying Stephen and me to the airport. The moment they saw my son, Rosie and Stephen couldn’t contain themselves, rushing forward to embrace him tightly as if no one else existed. After their emotional reunion, my son walked straight up to me and got straight to the point, “Mom, I’m back. When will you hand over the company to me?” Seeing his eagerness, I smiled calmly and said, “Let’s go. I’ve already arranged a press conference. I’ll officially hand everything over to you in front of everyone.” At the press conference, the room was packed to capacity. Journalists, prominent figures, and business elites had all gathered to witness the historic moment of the Stellar Sync Group’s leadership transition. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, I announced, “My son, Kian, will take over as the new president of the Stellar Sync Group.”

Under the witness of lawyers and the cameras of the press, I signed the transfer agreement, officially handing over all my assets and company shares to my son. Thunderous applause erupted, and the crowd was abuzz with admiration. Many remarked on the deep bond between mother and son, their eyes filled with envy as they looked at my son. Just then, Rosie arrived fashionably late, arm-in-arm with Stephen. The room fell silent, confusion and surprise etched onto everyone’s faces as Rosie pulled out a paternity test report. With a loud voice, she declared, “Daphne, the truth is, the IVF child you gave birth to all those years ago came from my and Stephen’s fertilized egg.” “I am Kian’s biological mother. Letting him call you ‘Mom’ for over twenty years was already repayment enough for carrying him. Now, it’s time for you to give him back to me.” Her words caused an uproar. “Isn’t she the impoverished student Daphne always supported? How could she get involved with Daphne’s husband and even have Daphne give birth to their child?” “This is outrageous! It’s the classic ‘farmer and the snake’ story! Daphne helped her so much, and she repays her with betrayal?” “And the timing? She waited until Daphne transferred the company’s shares before making this claim. Clearly, it’s about the money!” “Exactly! It’s despicable to exploit someone to bear their child and then steal everything they own. This is pure evil!” Amidst the intense condemnation, Stephen spoke up, self-righteous and indignant. “For the first half of my life, I was trapped in a marriage. As a man, I kept convincing myself to stay responsible for this relationship.” “But I’m human, too. On countless sleepless nights, I asked myself, Is this truly the life I want?” “Daphne has a good family background and has treated both me and Kian well, but my heart belongs to Rosie. Is it wrong for me to pursue true love?” “Marriage is meant to bring happiness, and so is divorce. Marriage should not be a shackle that keeps me from my true love. I hope everyone can bless us!” His words were delivered with such emotion, as if he were a victim of an unhappy marriage, bravely defying societal norms to seek love. I paid him no mind. Instead, I turned to my son and asked calmly, “What do you think about all this?” Kian looked carefully at the share transfer agreement in his hand before responding calmly, “Mom, this will be the last time I call you that.” “Although you raised me with care for over twenty years, the fact remains that you are not my biological mother.” “Blood is thicker than water. I hope you won’t stand in the way of our family’s reunion.” With that, he threw a divorce agreement at my face and said arrogantly, “While everyone is here, divorce my Dad today and set him free.” “In light of how well you’ve treated me over the years, I’ll give you two hundred dollars a month as alimony.” His words sparked outrage among the crowd. “No wonder they say like mother, like son. What kind of family is this?” “Exactly! Everyone knows Daphne always treated her son like a treasure, pampering him for years. And now, the moment she transfers her fortune to him, he turns around and calls someone else ‘Mom’?” “Two hundred dollars a month? That’s not even enough for a beggar! How does he have the audacity to say that?” “I’m an outsider, and even I can’t stand this! Daphne, don’t pay attention to these ingrates!” “Exactly! They’ve gone too far!” The crowd rallied behind me, furious on my behalf. Some even offered to help me sue to reclaim my assets. Despite the uproar, Rosie and Stephen remained composed, as if prepared for any scenario. But amidst the crowd’s righteous indignation, I smiled faintly and said, “Alright.” To everyone’s shock, I signed the divorce agreement without hesitation. Rosie and Stephen were momentarily stunned, clearly not expecting me to agree so easily. They meticulously examined both the divorce agreement and the share transfer documents. Confirming everything was in order, they finally relaxed and broke into triumphant smiles. Seeing their smug faces, I smiled as well. “Since you’ve given me such a grand surprise, it’s only fair I return the favor with a special gift.” Stephen frowned, puzzled. “A gift? What kind of gift?” Everyone else turned their curious eyes toward me.

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I, Jasmine Burke, along with my best friend Kayla Reeds, found ourselves transported to the Otherworld, becoming extremely rare females in a Beastkin tribe. During the mate selection ceremony, Kayla struck first, claiming the Ursine Beastkin, Atlas Michell, simply because he was naturally strong and an exceptional hunter. Meanwhile, I fell victim to her schemes and could only choose the frail Swan-kin, Jaxson Wallace. After marriage, Atlas continued his affairs with other women, and when Kayla’s protests proved futile, she was cast out of their cave during a harsh winter. Jaxson, however, remained by my side through everything, never abandoning me even when my legs became disabled. Eventually, he united the four great tribes and ascended to the supreme position of Chief in the Beastkin world. On the day of the Chief succession ceremony, Kayla went mad and pushed me off a cliff. When I opened my eyes again, we had both been reborn. In this life, she still moved first, but this time she chose the overlooked Jaxson. And I walked toward the low-key, unremarkable Vulpine Priest, Timothy Knight. Seeing Kayla’s vicious glare, I could barely contain my laughter. Chief Consort? How could that compare to having a healthy body? Living again, I would become the true Empress of the Beastkin world. ***** After falling from the cliff, I was reborn. I found myself back at the moment we first arrived in the Otherworld, on the day of the tribe’s mate selection ceremony. “These two precious females who descended from the heavens are a blessing bestowed upon us by the Beast God.” “Though we don’t know which tribe they come from, as females, their wishes in choosing mates must not be violated.” When I first arrived in my previous life, hearing words like “females,” “Beast God,” and “tribe” gave me a massive headache. But Kayla’s face lit up with excitement. She was obsessed with novels and already familiar with these settings. Before Timothy could finish speaking, she jumped ahead and chose Atlas. She leaned close to my ear and whispered with a laugh, “Ursine Beastkin aren’t just great hunters—I hear they’re incredible in bed too. I’ve only read about it in books, but now I’ll finally get to experience it firsthand.” Unlike me, Kayla genuinely loved this world. Seeing my hesitation, she blinked and linked her arm through mine, feigning concern as she said, “Jasmine, don’t force yourself if you don’t want to choose. After all, you still have someone else in your heart. Besides, you love romance, and all they know how to do is hunt. The tribe needs partners who can work, and you’ve never been good at that stuff.” With just a few casual words, she painted me as a female who abandoned her partner and was lazy and useless. In this primitive world with low productivity, even precious females were expected to contribute labor. As a result, only Jaxson remained standing before me in the end. I had hesitated long between Atlas and Jaxson, finally remembering an animal documentary I’d once watched. Swan-kin were known for their loyalty, and I thought working together with someone would be better than being alone. Later events proved that Jaxson was indeed as faithful as the rumors suggested, remaining devoted to me even after my legs became disabled and insisting I become his wife. When Kayla learned this news, she was furious. By then, her relationship with Atlas was already falling apart, and she desperately sought another way out. So she came to mine and Jaxson’s cave daily, sometimes wearing fresh flowers, sometimes bringing gifts. But Jaxson remained unmoved and became even more considerate and gentle toward me. Kayla was beyond frustrated, unable to understand how she could lose to a crippled invalid. Finally, she snapped at me angrily, “Jaxson is just a clueless fool who doesn’t understand romance!” I simply smiled faintly.

I’ll admit he’s not romantic, but calling him a fool? I don’t buy it. No beastman is more cunning than him. He initially chose me with unwavering determination, cleverly used my leg injury to win hearts, and ultimately unified the four great tribes to claim the chieftain’s throne. Meanwhile, that idiot Kayla was so caught up in romance that she never noticed almost all female bird-clan beastmen have physical defects. She’ll only understand this truth after experiencing it firsthand. So in this life, I’m letting her speak first again. Sure enough, she immediately pointed at Jackson and declared, “I want him as my mate.” The crowd erupted in shock, and a flash of delight crossed Jackson’s eyes. Bird-clan beastmen have always been unpopular. Despite their delicate beauty and unwavering loyalty, love isn’t a luxury most females can afford in this harsh primitive world. “How dare a bird-clan beastman claim such a noble female? With him, you won’t even have enough to eat,” a hot-tempered beastman stood up, demanding a duel with Jackson for Kayla’s hand. Jackson’s expression faltered slightly, a barely perceptible hint of insecurity flickering across his face. But this played right into Kayla’s hands. She immediately walked to Jackson’s side, linking her arm through his, and boldly announced to the crowd, “As long as we have love, we can survive anything. I’m not afraid of hardship. Even if he leaves me starving every day, I’ll never leave him.” The surrounding beastmen were stunned. Such touching words—if she hadn’t whispered “Just watch me become the chieftain’s wife” in my ear before leaving, the effect might have been even better. Seeing Timothy’s knowing smirk, inspiration struck. Before Kayla could frame me again, I raised my hand and pointed at Timothy, whose face was half-concealed. “I choose him.” Kayla’s face lit up with undisguised joy. In my previous life, Timothy had suddenly fallen ill and died under mysterious circumstances. But since I’ve been given a second chance, I’m here to rewrite destiny. Besides, fox-clan beastmen are naturally cunning—he won’t be as easily manipulated by Kayla as the others. In this life, I’m willing to gamble on him. Because what I want isn’t just to be some dependent chieftain’s wife. I’ve learned so much modern knowledge—it would be shameful to remain subservient. This time, I want Timothy to support me as I climb step by step to the throne of the beastman empress! After choosing a partner, all that remained was to forge the contract. Only when I clearly saw the Vulpine Beastkin mark appear on my palm did I truly breathe a sigh of relief. In this life, I had finally escaped the tragedy of my previous existence. Looking at Kayla’s undisguised excitement, I suddenly remembered what happened in my past life. This world revered females, but valued strength even more. Therefore, despite being a precious female, Kayla still had to obey Atlas’s arrangements in everything and constantly guard against him pursuing other females after marriage. All of this was because Atlas was naturally an excellent hunter. When other Beastkin struggled just to have enough food, the prey he caught could feed half the tribe. Atlas naturally attracted the attention of many females, and as he walked down the street, females would often give him flirtatious looks. Bold females would even publicly declare their willingness to follow him, contract or no contract. When Kayla first got together with Atlas, she had been proud for a while. Relying on being more beautiful than other females, she often acted spoiled and arrogant, restricting Atlas severely. As a transmigrator, she was bold in speech and passionate in character, which initially made Atlas feel refreshed. However, as time went on, her flaws gradually became exposed—unreasonable and domineering, arrogant and willful. No matter how good Atlas’s temper was, it would eventually be worn down, especially since he had been pampered since childhood as heaven’s favored son.

So after one fierce argument, Atlas could no longer tolerate it and drove Kayla out of the cave. It was the middle of winter, and females without shelter could easily starve to death. Kayla knelt outside the cave for several days and nights, and eventually Atlas softened and took her back. But she had developed paralysis as a lasting consequence of prolonged exposure to cold, losing the beauty she had been most proud of. Atlas completely lost any desire to continue the relationship. He would only throw some prey over every few days, and Kayla lived like this, sometimes hungry, sometimes fed. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought of finding someone else, but Atlas was extremely possessive. Even though he no longer liked her, he wouldn’t allow her to throw herself into another’s arms. Days dragged on like this until news came that Jaxson had become the tribe’s Chief. According to regulations, all Beastkin had to attend the celebration, so Kayla seized this opportunity and secretly hid behind rocks at the cliff’s edge. Before I could react, she suddenly pushed me off the cliff. She said: “Why should you live better than me? You should be inferior to me in every way! Bitch!” Kayla was my distant cousin from the countryside, while I was the only daughter of New York’s wealthiest family. But later, I was kidnapped by human traffickers. Her parents fought desperately with the traffickers to save me. Although they saved my life, they unfortunately died early. Therefore, my parents took Kayla in and raised her as their own daughter. My parents worried she might feel insecure, so their love for her even exceeded their love for me. Over time, this fostered her arrogant and domineering personality. Whenever we entered a new environment, she would always say to everyone with red-rimmed eyes: “Jasmine is so beautiful, my parents would be so happy if they knew. If they hadn’t died saving Jasmine back then, they would be the ones by my side now.” I understood this was her revenge against me, so I gradually gave up on myself and tried to minimize my presence. She liked to snatch away everything that belonged to me, from my parents’ affection in childhood to the senior I liked in college. She said: “Jasmine, don’t be angry. I was just helping you ask for his contact information, who knew he would confess to me instead. This just shows he’s not right for you at all. See, I’m so good to you, I tested his character for you. You should thank me properly. I think that bag your parents bought you is nice, why don’t you give it to me as a thank-you gift.” That bag was a new seasonal item worth a full two million dollars. Looking at her greedy expression, I only felt disgusted. But regardless, her parents had indeed died because of me, and this was a responsibility I could never erase. So in my previous life, I could only live in a daze, waiting for the day of liberation. And when she pushed me off that cliff, I finally felt a long-lost freedom. The debt had been repaid, and from then on, I would live only for myself.

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