Category: English

Five years later, in a chaotic emergency room, I crossed paths with my ex-husband, Tristan Sinclair. His new wife was on the brink of death from a stray bullet, yet he stood there, demanding to know why I refused to perform the surgery myself. “Are you still holding a grudge against me?” Facing his interrogation, I looked down at my trembling hands. His words echoed the exact tone he had used five years ago when he handed me the divorce papers. “Nora, I don’t love you anymore. I don’t even have a shred of pity left for you.” I whispered those words back to myself, turned on my heel, and walked out of the consultation room. He would never know that the woman once hailed as a surgical prodigy could no longer even hold a scalpel. 1 I stood silently in the sterile chill of the operating room, watching the lead surgeon apply the final, precise sutures. The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound bridging the gap between life and death. When the last knot was tied, I quietly slipped out, shedding my bloody scrubs. Pushing through the double doors of the surgical ward, the first thing I saw was Tristan Sinclair. He was sitting on the hard plastic bench in the hallway, his head buried in his hands. At the sound of the doors swinging shut, he looked up. His bloodshot eyes locked onto me instantly. I pulled down my surgical mask, keeping my voice flat and professional. “The surgery was a success. She is out of danger.” I took a step to walk past him, but his voice stopped me. “Nora,” he rasped, his voice rough and dry. I halted, but I did not turn around to face him. “Amman is practically a war zone right now,” he said, his footsteps echoing slightly as he took a step closer. “What on earth are you doing here?” Why was I here? I looked down the long, dim hallway. This was a place where the rattle of gunfire was more common than fireworks, where human life was treated as cheaply as dust. When I didn’t answer, he closed the distance between us. The familiar scent of woodsmoke and expensive cologne washed over me, a ghost from a past life. “Does your family even know you’re in Jordan?” My entire body went rigid. I turned slowly, staring at him in utter disbelief. A wave of cold, dark absurdity washed over me. He didn’t know. He actually had no idea that my parents were gone. But then, why would he? I took two steps back, deliberately re-establishing the boundary between us. “I like it here,” I said, my voice steady. “Saving lives doesn’t require a passport. I think my parents would be proud of the life I’m living now.” Tristan’s dark brows drew together, his eyes darkening to a stormy gray. I knew that look all too well. It was the warning sign before his temper flared. But what was he even angry about? Was he mad because of my lack of deference, or was he simply furious that I was no longer under his control? Either way, it didn’t matter. I had no desire to entangle myself in his web again. Before he could speak, I walked away. The moment I stepped back into my clinic, my colleague Jane followed me in. A mischievous grin played on her lips. “Well, well. Who is the handsome stranger, Dr. Prescott? He looked like he wanted to swallow you whole.” The air in the room grew heavy. I sat down at my desk, trying to ignore her. “He was just asking about his wife’s condition. Nothing more.” “Really?” Jane leaned against the doorframe, clearly not buying it. Before she could pry further, the muffled vibration of Tristan’s phone echoed from the hallway. We heard him answer in a low, clipped tone as his footsteps faded down the corridor. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. When I looked up, Jane was sitting across from me, her chin resting in her hands. “Nora, spill it,” she demanded, her eyes bright with curiosity. “What’s the real story between you two?” I buried my face in a stack of patient charts, keeping my tone indifferent. “If you have this much free time, you should go monitor the aortic dissection patient in ward four.” Jane laughed, waving her phone in front of my face. “Oh, come on. If you don’t tell me, I’ll just go ask him myself. I already looked him up. Tristan Sinclair, the king of New York’s financial district. Ruthless in business, a daredevil in his private life. A total mystery, though. There isn’t a single photo of his wife online. He keeps her completely hidden from the press.” My fingers tightened around the edge of the chart, crumpling the paper. He had protected her so well. He had spared no expense to keep Vivian Mercer safe from the prying eyes of the world. I let out a soft, humorless laugh. Jane was stubborn enough to actually go confront him. After a long silence, I finally spoke. “He’s my ex-husband.” Jane’s jaw dropped. “What?!” 2 My mind drifted back to the first time I saw Tristan. He was the star alumnus invited to speak at my medical school graduation. On that stage, he was magnetic, brilliant, and completely out of reach. He moved with a quiet confidence that made it seem like the spotlight had been invented just for him. I fell for him instantly, a silent, hopeless crush. I knew a girl like me stood no chance with a man destined for the stratosphere. So when my father came home one evening and told me that the Sinclair family had selected me for an arranged marriage, I locked myself in my room and cried tears of pure joy. I thought I was the luckiest woman in the world. And in the beginning, our marriage felt like a dream. Tristan remembered every anniversary. He showered me with thoughtful gifts and brought home the random things I mentioned liking. For a couple of years, I was the envied Mrs. Sinclair, blessed with a loving husband and a thriving career as a rising star in cardiothoracic surgery. I pulled my lips into a bitter smile. But then, Vivian Mercer returned. She was loud, vibrant, and lived life on the edge. She chased adrenaline and radiated a wild, infectious energy. Tristan, the stoic man I had always thought of as an unshakeable pillar, was instantly drawn into her orbit. The first time, he missed my birthday dinner because he was skydiving with Vivian. The second time, he forgot our wedding anniversary entirely to help her photograph a sandstorm in the desert. It happened again and again, until it became a routine. By the time I reached this part of the story, Jane’s face was red with anger. “What an absolute, cold-blooded bastard,” she spat. I took a slow breath and continued. Eventually, I had reached my breaking point. I found Vivian and slid a check for five million dollars across the table. Leave him, I had told her. I am his wife. She had smiled and accepted the money. But that very night, Tristan stormed into our house and threw the check in my face. The sharp paper cut my cheek, but the look in his eyes hurt far worse. It was a cold, vicious fury I had never seen before. “Nora, don’t you dare use your dirty family money to insult Vivian,” he snarled. “As long as you stay quiet and behave, you will remain the respected Mrs. Sinclair. Don’t ruin it.” Jane was practically shaking. “Respected? Was he blind?” Apparently, he was. And back then, so was I. After that night, Tristan stopped hiding. He flaunted Vivian at social events and joined her in every dangerous stunt he had once called foolish. Skydiving, wingsuit flying, deep-sea diving. Until the night they went street racing, and their sports car wrapped around a concrete barrier. Vivian was rushed to my hospital. Her uterus was ruptured, her abdomen was filled with blood, and her vitals were flatlining. I was the chief surgeon on call that night. Jane held her breath, waiting. I hated Vivian, but my oath as a doctor was sacred. I blocked out my personal feelings and fought for hours to save her. In the end, to stop the catastrophic bleeding and keep her alive, I had no choice but to perform a hysterectomy. But when she woke up, they blamed me. “You did this on purpose!” Vivian screamed from her recovery bed, her face contorted with rage. “You wanted to make sure I could never have Tristan’s children!” I tried to explain the medical necessity, but she wouldn’t listen. In a fit of rage, she grabbed her heavy metal water flask and hurled it at my face. It struck my forehead. Blood poured into my eyes, hot and blinding. Exhausted and hurt, I walked out of her room. But there was no apology waiting for me. Instead, the hospital administration suspended me pending an investigation. A week later, I was quietly fired. And the day after Vivian was discharged, Tristan handed me the divorce papers. I begged. I cried. I made a fool of myself trying to claw back any shred of the man who had once held me gently. But he was hollow. “Nora, I don’t love you,” he said, his voice completely devoid of warmth. “I don’t even pity you anymore. Just sign it.” 3 Looking at Jane’s tear-stained face, a strange calmness settled over me. I reached out and patted her hand. “So you signed them and came straight to Jordan?” she asked, wiping her eyes. “No,” I whispered. “I didn’t.” Back then, the rejection had driven me mad. I grabbed the papers and tore them to shreds right in front of him. “I will never sign these, Tristan! Not unless I’m dead!” From that day on, Tristan never set foot in our home again. Instead, he used his massive financial influence to systematically dismantle my family’s business, trying to starve me into submission. In my desperation, I did the stupidest thing of my life. I leaked intimate photos of him and Vivian to the press. Overnight, Vivian was branded a homewrecker. The public backlash was vicious. But that act of retaliation triggered my absolute ruin. Within twelve hours, the internet was flooded with highly realistic, AI-generated nude photos and explicit videos with my face on them. No matter how much I screamed that they were fake, nobody believed me. Furious, I drove to the Sinclair headquarters. Every employee I passed whispered and pointed, their eyes filled with disgust. Tristan’s assistant tried to block me, but I shoved past him and threw open the office door. Tristan and Vivian were wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing passionately. The sight made my stomach turn. I lost control. I ran forward and slapped Vivian across the face. The next second, a heavy blow struck my own cheek, sending me crashing to the floor. My face went numb. Tristan stood over me, his eyes icy. “Nora, I’ve tolerated your tantrums for too long. It seems your family has no reason to exist in this city anymore.” As I lay on the floor, cradling my bruising face, my phone rang. It was my father. His voice sounded incredibly fragile. He told me that my mother’s heart had failed after seeing the horrific things written about me online. She was in the ICU. A week later, my family went completely bankrupt. My parents had to sell everything, including their home, just to settle the debts. They aged ten years in a matter of days. On the day they prepared to leave New York, my father hugged me tightly. His shoulders were stooped, his spirit broken. “Let him go, Nora,” he wept into my hair. “Tristan is not a good man. Come home with us.” Looking at my broken parents, the fog of my obsession finally cleared. I realized my stubbornness had destroyed the only people who truly loved me. “I will, Dad,” I sobbed. “Let me just finalize the paperwork, and I’ll join you.” I went back to my empty apartment to pack my things, waiting for Tristan’s lawyers to bring the new papers. But as I was wrapping up a box, the world spun, and I collapsed. I woke up in a hospital bed. The doctor delivered the news with a gentle smile. I was two months pregnant. That tiny heartbeat threw everything into chaos. I wanted to divorce him and raise the child alone, but the Sinclair family refused to let their bloodline be raised outside their household. For a brief moment, Tristan and I reached a tense, fragile truce. Until the afternoon I was kidnapped. I woke up tied to a chair in a damp, abandoned warehouse. Vivian stood over me, looking down at my bound hands with a smug grin. “Nora, let’s play a game. Who do you think Tristan will choose? You, or me?” I closed my eyes, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing my fear. When Tristan finally burst through the door, my heart leaped. “Tristan, please,” I begged, tears streaming down my face. “Save the baby! Vivian set this whole thing up!” But my pleas only made his face harden with disgust. He looked at me as if I were a monster, a crazy woman who would stage her own kidnapping just to win him back. Without a second thought, he untied Vivian, scooped her into his arms, and walked out. He left me behind, bound and pregnant, in the dark. Once Tristan was gone, the men Vivian hired stepped out of the shadows. Under her parting instructions, they beat me until the floor was slick with my blood. They left me there to rot. But I couldn’t die. I had to get back to my parents. I dragged my broken body across the concrete floor, inch by inch, crawling toward the light. I crawled for an entire day and night before someone finally found me. By the time I woke up in the hospital, the baby was gone. And my heart died that day, buried alongside my unborn child.

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Sally and I had been married for two years. I was desperately obsessed with her. She despised me. Just how deep did that hatred run? When I got into a car crash and shattered multiple bones in my body, I spent six months recovering in the exact hospital where she worked as an orthopedic surgeon. She did not visit me a single time. Nobody liked me anyway. Everyone said I was the toxic snake who chased away Nolan, the guy she actually loved. When I first had the accident and lost all my mobility, the people around me were secretly happy for her. They whispered, “Sally finally gets a break from him.” When it was time for me to be discharged, her friends were all holding their breath for her. “Asher is getting out. He is going to ruin Sally’s life again.” They were partly right. The very first thing I did after getting discharged was find Sally. Except, I was not there to cling to her anymore. I was there to hand her a document. “Sally, this is what you wanted.” “What is this?” I gave her a faint, empty smile. “Open it and see for yourself. Sally, I do not want the house. I do not want the car. I wish you nothing but success. Let us never see each other again.” After handing over the divorce papers, I stepped back and melted into the crowd. 1 “Nurse, what is the deal with the guy in the next bed? Why does he never get any visitors?” “Hmph. Probably karma. He did too many messed up things, so everyone abandoned him.” Trapped in a coma, I could hear the outside world perfectly. In that pitch black void, I fought with every ounce of my strength to wake up, but my body refused to obey. Finally, after a million failed attempts, the loud crash of a glass shattering in the next cubicle shocked my eyes open. “Oh man! Buddy, you are awake!” The older guy in the next bed gasped in shock. I stared at the white ceiling tiles, unable to move a single muscle. “Sorry about that, kid. I dropped my cup. Did I scare you awake?” No. I should have been thanking him. If it was not for the shock of that crashing sound, I might have never woken up. No one knew the sheer, suffocating terror I endured in that dark, silent world. 2 The news of my awakening reached the doctors quickly. They rushed in, ran a battery of tests, and declared it a miracle. But among that sea of white coats, Sally was nowhere to be found. I had not heard her voice while I was under. And now that I was awake, she was still absent. “Where is Sally?” I rasped. A few of the doctors exchanged uncomfortable glances. “Dr. Evans… she is in surgery right now. She cannot get away.” “Oh.” “How is my condition?” I asked. “When the crash happened, the back of your head took the brunt of the impact. You had significant blood pooling in your brain, which caused the coma. Your right arm is fractured, your left femur is severely broken, and you have multiple other minor fractures and soft tissue contusions. Long story short, you took a massive hit. You have been asleep for forty days. Thankfully, you were brought in fast enough. The blood in your brain is slowly absorbing, and we already operated on your fractures. You are in casts and on the mend.” 3 When dinnertime rolled around, the older guy next to me, Arthur, turned his head while feeding his wife. “Hey kid, who is this Dr. Evans you keep asking about? Someone important to you?” She is my wife. What kind of surgery takes eight hours? Your spouse wakes up from a coma, and you cannot spare a single minute to check on them? I shook my head slowly. “We just know each other.” “Ah, got it.” Arthur nodded. “What about your family then?” The only person taking care of me was a hired orderly. During my coma, it was this stranger who sponged me down and emptied my catheter. I was probably the most pathetic patient in the entire hospital. I spun a quick lie. “They live out of state. Health issues. They cannot travel.” My parents divorced when I was in middle school after my mom had an affair. I was given to my mom. My dad was devastated and moved overseas. My mom was a ruthless businesswoman, constantly flying from city to city. Aside from keeping my bank account maxed out, she had zero time for me. Oh, right. Three years ago, she had a new baby girl with her new husband. 4 I was the one who chased Sally. Actually, “chased” implies she eventually liked me back. But even after we got married, she treated me like ice. She never gave me even a fraction of the warmth she used to give Nolan. If I had not forced Nolan out of the picture, she probably would have married him. “Oh my god, your blood is backing up!” the orderly yelled, dropping my dinner tray. I looked down. The IV tube plugged into the back of my hand was completely filled with my own dark blood. The orderly slammed the call button. The nurse who walked in was Blake, a guy I went to high school with. Impatience was practically tattooed on his forehead. He aggressively ripped the medical tape off my skin and yanked the needle out without a shred of care. It made sense. Back in school, almost everyone talked behind my back. They called me a pretty boy, a toxic snake, a guy who rode his wealthy family’s coattails. He swapped the tube and walked out without a word. Even Arthur and the orderly were appalled. The orderly picked up my bowl, preparing to feed me. “Maybe he is just having a bad day.” Arthur frowned. “No, I noticed it too. He only acts like a jerk to the kid here. When my wife needs her bandages changed, he is perfectly polite.” I did not defend myself. I just looked at the orderly. “Could you buy me one of those overbed tables? Just put the food on there. I will feed myself.” My right arm was in a heavy cast. Only my left hand worked. If this were the old me, I would have made Blake’s life a living hell for treating me like that. But now, I felt completely hollow. I had no energy left to fight. 5 Sally finally walked in. I was wrapped up like a mummy, clumsily trying to feed myself with my non dominant hand. When she walked through the door, my spoon froze midair. I must have looked incredibly pathetic in that moment. She glanced at me for a split second, then immediately turned her attention to Arthur’s wife in the next bed. “How are we doing here?” She was here to do rounds. On the patient next to me. I lowered my head and mechanically shoveled food into my mouth. My entire body felt numb. Arthur spoke up. “Doctor, thank god you are here. My wife said her elbow has been killing her.” Sally gently loosened the cast on the woman’s arm. “Is that better?” “Oh, much better. The pressure is gone.” Arthur looked confused. “Did they switch our doctor? We usually have Dr. Bennett.” “She had a family emergency. I am covering her rounds for the next two days.” “I see. You are so young to be a surgeon here at Mercy. Good for you. Got a boyfriend yet?” Sally completely ignored the question. “The cast was too tight and compressing the joint. If it happens again, page a nurse immediately.” After finishing with Arthur’s wife, she lingered. She did not leave. I kept my head down, staring blankly at my hospital food. A pair of pristine white sneakers appeared right next to my bed. Before she could speak, a nurse came running down the hall. “Dr. Evans! Emergency in the ER!” The white sneakers spun around and vanished from my line of sight. I looked out the window into the dark night, swallowing the lump in my throat. 6 After that, Sally never came back. Dr. Bennett returned, so Sally did not need to cover our ward anymore. I heard there was a massive multi car pileup on the highway that night, resulting in endless casualties. Then I heard Sally went out of state for a medical exchange program. When she came back, a severe apartment fire flooded the hospital with burn victims. Later, rumor had it she was sent overseas for advanced training. Long story short, she was busy. The patients in the beds next to me changed time and time again. The moment I was cleared to bear weight, I threw myself into physical therapy. I had to stand on my own two feet again. I had to become a normal person. No matter how agonizing the rehab was, I gritted my teeth and pushed through the pain in that sweat smelling gym. Of course, during that time, I became a total joke among my old college circle. The arrogant ice prince, bedridden, unable to wipe his own mouth, needing someone to serve him hand and foot. We were all med students at Boston U once upon a time. But during my internship year, I severely injured my hand. I could never hold a scalpel again, so I gave up the profession. A lot of my former classmates ended up working here at Mercy. None of them pitied me. They all thought this was my karma. After all, everyone believed I was the monster who bullied Nolan into leaving the country. 7 “Your gait is completely normal now. Outstanding work.” Four months later, when I walked a full lap without parallel bars, my physical therapist clapped loudly. “Thank you for everything.” “Do not thank me. Your willpower is insane. Honestly, your femur was shattered. You had one of the worst breaks I have seen in years, and yet, throughout this entire grueling process, you never cried out in pain once.” I smiled faintly and did not say a word. I was officially discharged. I signed my own paperwork, hailed a cab, and left the hospital behind. It had been nearly six months since I last stepped foot in my own home. I stood in the hallway, staring at the door in silence, before pressing my thumb to the biometric lock. The door clicked open. The air inside smelled like dust. Just as I suspected, Sally rarely came home either. I cleared off the sofa and opened the takeout container of lean pork porridge I bought downstairs. After two bites, my phone buzzed on the coffee table. I stared at the messages popping up in the college group chat. I went dead silent. “Asher got discharged.” “Damn, already? I thought he was practically crippled.” “He is going to start harassing Sally again. She must owe him a massive debt from a past life to be cursed with him.” “Hey, shut up, he is still in this chat. If he sees this, he will ruin your career too.” “Oh crap, wrong chat.” Instantly, the messages were unsent. I locked my phone screen, picked up my spoon, and finished my cold porridge. I slept alone that night. Sally did not come home. When dawn broke, I rubbed my stiff eyes, taking a long moment to gather my bearings. I got up, showered, and got dressed. I grabbed the manila envelope sitting on the coffee table and walked to the door. Before pulling it shut, I paused, taking one last look at the beautiful three bedroom apartment I had meticulously designed. With a heavy thud, the door closed. 8 I found Sally in the hallway outside the orthopedics department. They had just finished their morning briefing. A crowd of doctors in white coats was streaming out of the conference room. When she saw me, her fingers froze on the clipboard she was holding. The doctor walking next to her gave us a knowing look and quickly hurried away. I do not know how I managed to smile as I walked up to her. Maybe it was the sheer relief of not being paralyzed. Or maybe I had just finally let it all go. Her skin was flawless, though faint dark circles shadowed her eyes. Still, nothing could hide how effortlessly breathtaking she was. She spoke first, her tone defensive. “Sorry. Yesterday, I was booked for three back to back surgeries. By the time I finished, the nurses said you had already signed your papers and left.” I nodded calmly and handed her the manila envelope. “This is for you.” “What is this?” A flash of confusion crossed her eyes. I shrugged, offering her a smile completely free of burden. “Open it and see for yourself. It is what you always wanted. Sally, I do not want the house, and I do not want the car. I wish you nothing but success. Let us never see each other again.” After handing over the divorce papers, I stepped back and melted into the crowd.

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After marrying my husband for the third time, I still hadn’t learned my lesson. Seeing his female secretary in our kitchen making breakfast first thing in the morning, I lost my mind, marched right over, and flipped the dining table. Suddenly, floating comments appeared in my field of vision like a live stream chat: [The reincarnated heroine is a genius! With just a few simple tricks, she got the villainess to self-destruct and divorce three times already. Girl boss is absolutely slaying!] [This annoying brat of a wife always treats her billionaire husband like trash and threatens divorce at the drop of a hat. This time, she finally pushed him to his limit.] [After the fourth divorce, the stupid ex-wife will still be waiting around for him to beg her to come back, completely unaware that the real heroine is already pregnant with his heir and taking her crown. The ex-wife ends up dying all alone in some miserable rented room.] I froze. But I still couldn’t hold back. I swung my hand and slapped Austin across the face. 1 A sharp, ringing crack echoed through the room. But my palm didn’t land on Austin’s face. Gemma had thrown herself in front of him, taking the blow. I stared, momentarily stunned. Before I could even say a word, Gemma was already biting her lip, looking up at me with tear-filled eyes. “Ma’am, if you wanted to take your anger out on me, I would have accepted it,” she sobbed, her voice trembling. “But how could you ruin this breakfast? The two hours I spent cooking don’t matter, but Austin has a sensitive stomach. If he skips breakfast, his ulcer will flare up again…” I rolled my eyes so hard they almost got stuck. “I was aiming for your boss. Who told you to dive in and catch the slap?” Gemma choked on her words, tears instantly welling up. At that moment, Austin stood up. He stepped between us, shielding her, and looked down at me. His voice was completely flat. “Don’t feel like wraps this morning?” I sneered, turning my head away to ignore this man who clearly had no concept of personal boundaries. Austin remained silent for a beat before suddenly addressing Gemma. “You should leave first.” I turned to walk away, cold and furious, but Austin grabbed my wrist. Gemma blinked in surprise, then nodded meekly. “Alright, Austin. I’ll do as you say.” Before stepping out the door, she paused and turned back, offering him a sweet, lingering look. “We have that meeting with Mr. Larson from Apex Enterprises at ten. I’ll head over first to prep the documents. Please join me as soon as you’re done here.” Austin finally glanced at her. “Right.” The way these two were making eyes at each other right in front of me was infuriating. Did they think I was dead? Anger surged through my chest. [Look at the CEO’s dark expression! He’s clearly furious that his girl got slapped. He’s totally done with the toxic wife!] [That’s why he told the heroine to leave first. He was terrified his psycho wife would hurt her again. What a protective king, haha!] [Our precious girl is still thinking about work even after getting hurt. She’s a true power player worthy of standing by his side, unlike the useless, pretty-faced ex-wife!] [Don’t worry, the wife is about to demand a divorce and he’s going to agree instantly. The plot is finally getting back on track!] My heart skipped a beat. I actually had been planning to throw a fit and demand a divorce. Were these bizarre floating comments actually real? Had Austin really fallen for Gemma, just waiting for me to step aside? Then why the hell did he keep begging me to remarry him? Before I could wrap my head around it, Austin was already tying on an apron with practiced ease. “What do you want to eat? I don’t have time for anything complicated since I have to run. How about some eggs and toast?” [Why hasn’t she brought up the divorce yet? The CEO is stuck cooking for her just waiting for her to say it. He couldn’t even leave with our sweet girl. Annoying!] [The toxic wife keeps using her father’s mentorship to guilt-trip him. Poor guy has divorced her three times and still can’t shake her off.] [That’s why the heroine couldn’t stand her. Reincarnating was her chance to snatch the CEO away and shower him with the love he actually deserves!] Staring at the aloof man in front of me, a sudden wave of bitterness stung my nose. “I’m not hungry! Just go to work!” I yanked my hand out of his grip and stormed back into my bedroom. Not long after, the sound of an engine revving came from the driveway. Austin had actually left without saying another word. 2 My temples throbbed with rage. Lying on the bed, my chest felt incredibly tight. I didn’t get it. Austin and I were the ones who were married. Why were these bizarre comments cheering on a blatant homewrecker? Just because Gemma was the heroine and I was the villainess? My birth had been a difficult one, resulting in mild oxygen deprivation. Because of that, I had always been a bit slow. When I was a kid, my relatives used to whisper behind my back, joking that if someone kidnapped me and sold me off, I’d probably count the cash for them with a big smile. I was also incredibly lazy. Whenever things got slightly difficult, my immediate reaction was to throw in the towel. Hey, persistence is hard. Giving up is effortless. Fortunately, I had an incredible father. He was the director of the National Academy of Sciences. He had mentored countless brilliant minds, and Austin was his absolute star pupil. Austin was also breathtakingly handsome. Tall, lean, and possessing the kind of presence that commanded any room he walked into. I had fallen for him at first sight. Armed with my dad’s connection, I spent three years chasing this absolute iceberg of a man until I finally melted him. While Austin came from humble beginnings, his talent was undeniable. Even my hard-to-please father had nothing but praise for him. And Austin certainly proved him right. The projects his team developed were wild successes, and within a few short years, his net worth skyrocketed, turning him into the brilliant young billionaire everyone gossiped about. With money and power, the vultures naturally started circling. Back when he was a nobody, I was the only one who wanted him. Now that he was wealthy and gorgeous, things had changed. Still, even though Austin always treated me with a certain cool detachment, he never showed the slightest interest in other women either, so I had never worried. Until Gemma showed up. I noticed Austin treated her differently. After all, she was the reason I had walked away three times already. Gemma’s tactics were cheap but effective. She would leave lipstick marks on his collar, send him late-night texts loaded with double entendres, or show up at galas wearing the exact same designer dress as me. But Austin was hopelessly dense. Whenever he saw me shaking with rage, he would just say, “You’re overthinking it. She’s not like you.” I decided to choose a better moment to address it. One night, in the middle of our private, intimate moments in bed, I brought it up and urged him to fire her. Austin paused his movements, pinning me down. “You’re right. She’s a distraction.” Yet the very next day, she was still right by his side. Furious and exhausted, I decided to set him free. I demanded a divorce. Austin only stared at me, his eyes dark. “Are you sure?” “Yes,” I snapped. “Fine,” he replied. He didn’t beg. But every single time, before a month had even passed, he would show up at my door asking me to come back. And I always agreed. Honestly? I was a sucker for his face and his body. 3 I rolled over in bed. The screen of comments in my mind was in absolute chaos: [What the hell? Why isn’t the toxic wife falling for it this time? In the original timeline, they should be in their fourth cooling-off period by now!] [Out of respect for his mentor, the CEO won’t be the one to ask for a divorce. Does this mean our sweet girl has to keep being his secret lover? This is so frustrating.] [Don’t worry, the wife is stupid and petty. The heroine just needs to provoke her a little more, and she’ll throw another tantrum.] [Forget about the wife, look! The heroine is accompanying the CEO to a client dinner. Someone just asked if she was Mrs. Finch, and he didn’t deny it! Ahhh, silent confirmation!] So Austin really did have feelings for Gemma. I angrily pulled my gaze away from the floating text. But I wasn’t stupid. I knew Austin’s character inside out. When it came to women who weren’t his wife, the man was incredibly stingy. When I was his wife, my credit cards had no limits. I could buy a whole wall of Hermès bags without him batting an eye. But the moment we divorced, he made sure I left with absolutely nothing. Not a single cent. Over the years, I had grown accustomed to living a life of luxury. A single spa session cost thousands. My own savings wouldn’t even last me two weeks. That was the real reason I always agreed to remarry him so quickly. So this time, I wasn’t going to be the one to bring up the divorce. Since Austin was so in love with Gemma, he would have to be the one to make the move to give her a proper title. I just had to wait. Let him ask for the split. That way, I could legally demand a massive payout. But before that happened… I was going to spend his money like there was no tomorrow! With that thought, I bolted upright and called my exclusive spa, booking a series of premium treatments worth a fortune. The next morning, the moment I woke up, I had a text from Austin: [Having dinner out tonight. Don’t wait up.] I stared at the screen for a long moment. Then, I dialed my best friend. Why spend his money alone when I could bring my bestie along for the ride? I threw on a high-end designer dress and rushed out the door. But as we walked out of the spa and passed a luxury jewelry boutique, Phoebe suddenly gasped. “Sienna, isn’t that your man? Who is that girl with him?” I followed her gaze. Through the glass window, I saw Gemma. She was leaning over a velvet counter, focusing intently on a tray of diamond rings. Beside her stood Austin, wearing a remarkably soft, gentle smile. So this was the business he had to attend to. 4 Phoebe finally recognized Gemma’s face and spat, “Isn’t that the homewrecker who caused your last divorce?” “What the hell is Austin playing at? He literally just remarried you, and now he’s out shopping for rings with her?” Phoebe grabbed me as I instinctively tried to turn away, pulling up her sleeves. “Sienna, why are you running? That’s not like you! You are the legal Mrs. Finch! Come on, let’s go in there and give them hell!” My best friend’s words made me pause. I suddenly realized how much those stupid floating comments were affecting me. I was acting like a doomed supporting character who was bound to be abandoned, choosing to retreat without a fight. But why should I back down? Even if I was destined to lose, I was going to make this cheating duo pay a heavy price first! Taking a deep breath, I balled my hands into fists, ready to catch them red-handed. Inside the shop, Austin seemed to sense something. He abruptly turned his head toward the window. Seeing my furious face, his brow instantly furrowed. [Look at how annoying the wife is. The CEO was smiling so sweetly at our girl, but the second he saw his wife, his face fell!] [Omg, is he helping her pick out an engagement ring? Is he planning a proposal?] [It breaks my heart knowing the toxic wife is going to use her dad’s influence to bully the heroine again. But her time is coming. Her father’s downfall is happening soon, and without him, let’s see how she throws her weight around!] What?! Is something terrible going to happen to my dad? The fury on my face instantly vanished, replaced by sheer panic. I couldn’t care less about confronting them anymore. I grabbed Phoebe’s hand, shoving my black card into her palm. “Max out this card. Buy whatever you want. I have an emergency.” Without waiting for her reply, I sprinted to my car and sped toward my father’s house. According to the comments, my dad was already feeling unwell but was brushing it off as typical old-age aches and pains. By the time he realized something was seriously wrong, it would be too late. He would pass away in less than three days. The mere thought of losing the father who had cherished me my entire life sent a sharp, agonizing pain through my chest. As I burst through the front gate, I saw my dad in the garden, watering his flowers. Since retiring, this had become his favorite hobby. “Well, look who it is! My little princess is home!” Seeing his cheerful, smiling face, my eyes welled with tears. When my mother died from complications during my birth, my father’s hair had turned white overnight. For years, people urged him to remarry. My grandmother had even threatened him, arguing that I was slow and practically a simpleton, and that he needed to have another child so the family line wouldn’t end. But he refused. He dedicated his life entirely to me, giving me all the love and indulgence in the world. Recalling the comments, I rushed over. “Dad, when was the last time you had a full physical exam?” “Uh, not too long ago. Maybe six months?” His eyes darted away, his voice lacking confidence. “Your old man is as strong as an ox. Aside from this stubborn cough, I’m perfectly fine. Don’t worry, I’ll be around to help you raise your kids!” Hearing that, everything clicked. For some reason, as people got older, they developed an irrational fear of doctors. My dad was no exception. “We are going to the hospital. Right now.” Seeing my stern face and realizing I was truly angry, my dad didn’t dare argue. He meekly followed me to the hospital. To my utter surprise, halfway through the checkups, Austin showed up. 5 Wasn’t he supposed to be with Gemma? Why was he here? But I was in no mood to figure it out. Listening to the veteran specialist’s diagnosis, my tears began to flow freely. Austin stepped forward to pull me into his arms, but I pushed him away with all my might. “This is all your fault! If you and Gemma hadn’t kept stressing me out every single day, I wouldn’t have been too distracted to notice my dad’s health! I would have caught this sooner!” Instead of letting go, he held me even tighter. Unable to break free, I ended up wiping my tears and nose right onto his expensive jacket. Austin sighed, gently stroking my back. “Shh, okay, it’s my fault. But your dad’s condition is in its absolute earliest stage. It’s completely curable with medication. Why are you crying like it’s the end of the world?” I froze. Looking up, I met the amused, knowing gazes of both the doctor and my father. Embarrassed, I let out a wet hiccup. While Austin went to get the prescription, my dad pulled me aside, speaking in a warm, earnest tone. “My sweet girl, Austin isn’t a man of many words, but I can tell his feelings for you are genuine. You throw the word ‘divorce’ around daily, yet he still accommodates your every whim.” “With his current status, there’s no shortage of women trying to climb into his bed. But have you ever actually seen him cross the line?” I opened my mouth to protest, wanting to warn him not to be fooled by Austin’s quiet exterior. I wanted to tell him about what I saw at the jewelry store, and the bizarre floating comments. But looking at the silver hair at his temples, I swallowed my words. I didn’t want to stress him and make his condition worse. I could wait until he was fully recovered. After driving my dad back to his estate and giving the housekeeper strict instructions, I turned around to find Austin still standing there. He was surprisingly free today. I didn’t ask questions, silently sliding into the passenger seat. The drive back to our place was quiet. Once home, I took a long shower, got changed, and crawled into bed to review the shopping list Phoebe had sent over. Just as I was admiring the ridiculous total, a pair of large, warm hands slid under the covers. I looked up into Austin’s deep brown eyes. He was wearing a loosely tied robe, his dark hair still damp from his own shower. I frowned, about to ask what he thought he was doing, when a cold sensation slipped onto my ring finger. I gasped softly, looking down at my hand. It was a massive diamond ring. And the design looked exactly like the one I had seen at the boutique earlier today. “Didn’t you always complain that your ring wasn’t big enough?” Austin murmured, his voice husky against my ear. Before I could say a word, his hot lips pressed against mine. The comments in my mind exploded: [Oh my god! The villainess actually used her sick dad to manipulate him! Poor CEO had to take the ring meant for our heroine just to placate his crazy wife!] [It breaks my heart seeing him forced to perform in bed like this. What’s worse is that the heroine hasn’t even touched him yet, but this toxic b*tch gets to enjoy him whenever she wants!] [It’s fine, it’s just physical for him. His heart belongs entirely to our girl!] To be fair, we hadn’t been intimate in a while. And according to the comments, Austin and Gemma were still strictly platonic? Meaning, my husband was still clean. With that reassuring thought, I stopped overthinking and pulled him closer, matching his intensity. But right at that moment, Austin’s phone began to vibrate on the nightstand.

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It was the fifth year of my silent, unrequited love for Wesley Sinclair. Phoebe Heinberg, his impoverished first love, had finally chosen money over romance. She had sent me a message, asking me to pass it along: [Jas, Wesley’s family won’t let us see each other, and they are forcing me to go abroad. Can you tell him something for me? Tell him I will definitely come back for him after graduation.] I stared down at those two lines on my screen. With a calm face, I pressed delete. That same day, Wesley was involved in a terrible car accident while racing to the airport to catch her flight. When he woke, he had forgotten everyone, except for me. In his mind, I was his only fiancée. The once distant, cold young heir transformed into my devoted, clingy shadow, obeying my every whim. But at our wedding… His first love returned. “Wesley, she is a liar!” Phoebe burst into the chapel, tears streaming down her face. “She stole my identity and lied to you! The one you actually love is me!” As her voice echoed through the hall, Wesley’s hand froze, right as he was about to slip the ring onto my finger. 1 Wesley and the doctor stepped out of the examination room. Seeing me waiting outside, he naturally reached out and took my hand, his tone as casual as ever. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Were you about to fall asleep?” He gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, offering a soft smile to reassure me. “Don’t worry your pretty head over it. The doctor says I’m recovering well. We just need a trigger now.” The specialist beside him quickly chimed in. “Mr. Sinclair’s memory is returning steadily. He is already recalling scattered fragments. However, to fully restore his memory, he needs a significant emotional stimulus. Perhaps take him to places you two used to visit, or surround him with familiar personal items from your past. It will help stimulate his recall.” I swallowed the dryness in my throat, offering a polite smile. “I understand. Thank you, doctor.” Wesley had been in a severe car accident two years ago. He had forgotten almost everything, but he remembered me as his childhood sweetheart and his designated fiancée. All day, my mind drifted. Even during our wedding dress fitting, I could barely focus. The boutique director and the designers presented the custom, high-end gowns flown in from Paris for my selection. “Is the wedding scheduled for next month, Miss Croft? I’m so envious. I heard you two have known each other for over a decade?” Before I could answer, a familiar voice cut in. “Yes, we have.” Wesley walked over, bending down to help adjust the train of my gown. He carefully smoothed out every fold before looking up at me. “Jas and I grew up together. We were childhood sweethearts.” He stood up, leaning in close to brush his fingers against my cheek, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me. “Jas… you look breathtaking today.” As the words left his mouth, his ears flushed crimson. My eyelashes fluttered, and I looked away. “Every girl looks beautiful in a wedding dress.” Wesley arched an eyebrow, clearing his throat with a playful, dismissive scoff. “None of them can compare to my wife. I only care about how my wife looks in a wedding dress.” The more certain he was, the heavier my chest felt. I turned toward the changing room. “I’m a bit tired today. Let’s just go with the simple satin gown.” Wesley quickly caught up to me. “What about the French lace mermaid gown with the intricate beading? Didn’t you say that was your absolute favorite?” He softened his tone, sounding slightly disappointed. “Jas, you don’t need to worry about the cost. Just pick the one you love the most.” My back was turned to him, and I bit my lower lip. The doctor’s words from this morning echoed in my head: Surround him with familiar personal items from your past… The French lace mermaid gown. It was indeed my favorite, but it was also Phoebe’s favorite. I could not, under any circumstances, let him recover his memories on the eve of our wedding. “It’s nothing,” I lied, forcing a smile as I turned around. “I just don’t like it anymore.” 2 After dinner, Wesley accompanied me for a walk along the lake near his family’s estate. When we were kids, I used to sneak out during the hot summer nights to catch tadpoles with him by this very water. Once, I stepped on some slippery moss and tumbled into the deep end. I couldn’t swim and began thrashing wildly. It was Wesley who dove in without hesitation and dragged me back to the shore. I quietly locked my phone. I had just texted my housekeeper, instructing them to sweep our home once more and remove any trace of Phoebe. “Jas, do you have any photos of us from when we were kids on your phone?” Wesley asked, his tone slightly self-conscious. “I want to see what you looked like back then.” I hesitated for a second before opening my gallery. “Sure.” Growing up, the heir of the Sinclair family was notorious for his arrogance. He bullied almost every other wealthy kid in our social circle, but he never crossed me. Perhaps it was because I was quiet, or perhaps because I was easily frightened. Ultimately, I became his little shadow. Wesley was a massive clean-freak, yet he would share his snacks with me while grumbling about my messy habits. He claimed to detest my lazy attitude, but his bedroom was the only place he ever permitted me to take my afternoon naps. His favorite thing to do was press his index finger against my forehead, lecturing me with mock exasperation. “Jasmine Croft, if anyone ever picks on you, you tell me. You hear me?” I held onto those words for years. But eventually, the person who hurt me the most was him. The day my family arranged our alliance, I had just returned to the country. Before even unloading my luggage from the car, I ran eagerly into the Sinclair mansion, only to overhear Wesley talking to another girl. Phoebe was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed, looking at him with a provocative smirk. “It seems the young master of the Sinclair family is just another puppet on a string, unable to even choose who he dates.” Wesley’s lips thinned into a tight line. He frowned, his voice dropping. “Who says I can’t choose?” That very afternoon, I learned that the Sinclairs wanted to call off the engagement. Feeling guilty, his parents paid a formal visit to my family to apologize. Wesley stood at the back of the room. After high school, we had rarely crossed paths. He went abroad for university, and since I preferred quiet spaces, I often made excuses to skip the social gatherings he attended. The day we called off the engagement was my first day back in the country, and the day I prepared to let him go. Wesley looked at me across the crowded room. We stared at each other for a long moment, as if we had truly loved each other once. His lips parted, but in the end, he only uttered two words. “I’m sorry.” I smiled and remained silent, offering a quiet, obedient nod. Love was never something that could be forced. I had learned that lesson long ago. I scrolled to an old childhood photo and held the phone out to him. He took it, freezing for a moment before a soft laugh escaped him. “You were so adorable back then.” Wesley pinched my cheek gently. “In this photo, you ruined my birthday cake, but you were still standing there, smiling like an innocent angel.” This time, my face flushed warm. “I bought you another cake to make up for it,” I mumbled in defense. Wesley chuckled but didn’t say anything. He kept scrolling through the album, tracking our journey from kindergarten to middle school. “You had blunt bangs in middle school. You looked so sweet. Did anyone try to bully you back then? Look at this photo, you’re hiding behind me like a shy little bird.” Then, he swiped to the next slide. It was a candid shot taken by my best friend. I was flashing a peace sign at the camera, while behind me, Wesley was on his phone, completely oblivious. He was wearing a crisp white dress shirt; it was taken during our high school graduation ceremony. Wesley’s brow furrowed, his immediate reaction catching me off guard. “What kind of dress is that? The back is cut way too low.” He zoomed in on the photo, his tone dripping with jealousy. “Look at those two guys behind you, they’re practically drooling. Are you still in touch with them? Block them immediately.” He kept scrolling, and the screen flashed with the face of a girl he didn’t recognize. Before he could get a proper look, I snatched the phone away. “Alright, that’s enough!” I forced a cheerful laugh. “I was so awkward back then. There’s nothing interesting to see.” Wesley frowned, pressing his finger against my forehead. “Why are you acting like this? Who was that girl? I barely saw her. Are you worried I’ll look at someone else?” He took my hand, intertwining our fingers. His palm was warm and reassuring. “My wife is the most beautiful woman in the world. I’ve never thought you were awkward. If I did, how could I have loved you for all these years?” Is that so? I thought. Would you say the same things if Phoebe were standing here? 3 Phoebe was a scholarship student sponsored by the Sinclair family. Two months before the college entrance exams, she was brought to the city for intensive training. She was a few years younger than Wesley and me. While I was studying abroad, I frequently heard rumors about her from our mutual friends. “You know Wesley’s temper, right? He actually let that girl into his private study.” “I heard he drove her to her university dorms himself last week.” “Felix and I teased her a bit when we saw them together, and Wesley looked like he wanted to murder us on the spot.” “She talks back to him constantly at his house, and he never even gets mad.” “Are you serious? If I spoke to him like that, he’d throw me out the window.” The rumors were vivid. Through their descriptions, I painted a picture of Phoebe in my mind: bright, outspoken, and entirely unbothered by Wesley’s intimidating reputation. She was like a wild blossom, full of vibrant energy. Wesley had never had anyone like that in his life. At least, I was nothing like that. I could understand the appeal she held for him. It was the same way Wesley had once brought color into my quiet life. I had once asked Wesley about her over a text message. He had replied briefly: [She’s nobody. My parents are sponsoring her education, and she stays at the estate occasionally. I have to go, I’m busy.] He didn’t care to waste words on her. But her special status required no explanation; his silent indulgence had already made their relationship an open secret in our social circle. After returning to the country, I ran into Phoebe. Seeing me for the first time, she showed no nervousness. Instead, she walked up to me with a bright, easy smile. “You must be Jas,” she said, her voice light and cheerful. “Wesley talks about you sometimes. He says you’re very sweet and gentle.” She paused, offering a casual giggle. “But he also mentioned that you can be a bit boring sometimes.” She wasn’t wrong. I was indeed the designated “good girl” of our circle. Under my family’s careful guidance, I had lived a predictable life, studying, traveling, and painting. Wesley loved racing, hiking, skiing, and all kinds of extreme sports. I preferred painting, reading, and flower arrangement. Our lives had no natural overlap. If we hadn’t grown up together, he probably wouldn’t have spared me a second glance. I offered a gentle smile. “Boring is a fair description. He’s not the first to say so.” Phoebe blinked, clearly caught off guard by my easy admission. During my visit to the Sinclair estate, the living room was filled with their playful bickering. Mostly, it was Phoebe’s voice. “Wesley, you can’t even tell the difference between scallions and chives?!” Wesley sighed in annoyance. “Does it look like I care?” Phoebe stepped closer, looking up at him with a grin. “Of course you should care! If you can’t even recognize basic ingredients, how are you going to feed yourself in the future?” “I have a chef for that.” Phoebe smirked. “Don’t you ever want to move out and live on your own? To cook your own meals and have some real freedom? Or do you plan on being a pampered prince forever?” Wesley was rebellious at heart, craving freedom more than anything. Everyone knew it, but Phoebe was the only one brave enough to say it to his face. Sure enough, Wesley’s expression darkened, a clear sign of his rising temper. But before I could intervene, Phoebe spoke up again. “Tell you what, you can always come crash at my place in the future.” She laughed, her eyes crinkling. “Since your family pays for my tuition, the least I can do is cook for you. Feeding one extra mouth won’t ruin me.” Wesley fell silent, momentarily speechless. She knew exactly how to push his buttons and then pull him back. Later that day, on our drive back to her school, we passed a bridal boutique. Phoebe peered out the window, sighing wistfully. “So beautiful… especially that mermaid gown.” Wesley leaned his head back, his voice careless. “It’s average. Off-the-rack stuff can’t compare to high fashion.” Phoebe looked down, disappointed. “I still want to wear a beautiful mermaid gown one day.” Wesley frowned, glancing at me briefly in the rearview mirror. He didn’t say anything, but from that day on, a subtle shift occurred at the Sinclair estate. Whenever Wesley was scolded by his father, Phoebe was always there to comfort him. Sometimes she brought him fruit; other times she sat on the floor outside his study to keep him company during his grounding. During the winter break, when Wesley returned from university, Phoebe begged him to take her skiing, claiming she had never seen snow before. Although a whole group of us ended up going, I sat inside the lodge clutching a warm cup of tea, watching them slide down the slopes. A quiet voice echoed in my head: Jasmine, do you really think there’s still a place for you in his heart? The day he called off our engagement, he drove me to my villa. When we were alone in the car, I finally gathered the courage to ask the question that had been haunting me. “Are you calling this off because of someone else?” Wesley stiffened. He looked down, his brow furrowing. “Jas.” It had been a long time since he had called me by my nickname. “I don’t want to hurt you.” I don’t want to hurt you. That was his answer. That was the conclusion to my five years of silent adoration. 4 On the day of the wedding, I only managed two hours of sleep. I was terrified that this was all a beautiful dream, and that when I woke up, I would find nothing but a pillow soaked with my own tears. “Jas, did you not sleep well?” Wesley’s mother held my hand, her eyes filled with concern. She glanced over at Wesley, who was busy chatting with his groomsmen, and lowered her voice. “Jas, I need to tell you something. Don’t panic.” I kept my expression serene, offering a soft smile. “Go ahead, Aunt Eleanor.” She sighed, her face tight with anxiety. “Felix’s family contacted me yesterday. They saw Phoebe at the airport.” “I verified the flight logs. It’s her. She’s back in the country.” The air around me seemed to turn to ice. My mind went blank, and the words caught in my throat. Seeing my silence, Eleanor quickly squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry, Jas. Wesley doesn’t remember anything right now. You are the only one he recognizes. And you are the only daughter-in-law the Sinclairs will ever accept.” My throat felt dry as bone. I looked over at Wesley. He was laughing with Felix and Zach, his ears flushing red at whatever joke they were sharing. “Felix and Zach are keeping it from him too,” Eleanor whispered. “None of them will mention her name in front of Wesley.” Her expression turned sour as she continued. “I gave her four million dollars back then, and she signed the agreement. Why on earth is she coming back now, right when you two are getting married? What is she trying to pull?” The truth about Phoebe was something we all knew. Except for Wesley. When Eleanor first noticed Phoebe’s intentions, she had confronted her. To her surprise, Phoebe didn’t even try to deny it. She brazenly admitted that she liked Wesley and believed that, given his indulgence, winning him over completely would be easy. Her arrogance had caused a massive stir in the Sinclair household. Eleanor was so furious she nearly had a heart attack, and Wesley’s father immediately arranged for Phoebe’s transfer out of her school. But Phoebe had threatened them. “I already have a place in Wesley’s heart. He defends me, drives me around, and fights his friends for me. Have you ever seen him do that for anyone else? If I suddenly disappear, what do you think he will do? He’s your son, you know his temper best.” Eleanor had swallowed her anger and negotiated a price. At the time, my family’s relationship with the Sinclairs was strained due to the canceled engagement, and my father was preparing to pull his investments from their joint projects. To resolve the issue quickly, Eleanor had offered six million dollars to make Phoebe disappear. Phoebe took the money and left, sending Wesley a single farewell text claiming she was going abroad to study with her boyfriend. She then blocked all his contact information right in front of them. Of course, I only found out about all of this later. At the time, Phoebe had reached out to me, crying over a voice message, sounding incredibly weak and victimized. She claimed the Sinclairs had ruthlessly thrown her out because of their greed and obsession with social status. She said she had nowhere to go and was forced to cut ties with Wesley. “Jas, I know you’re the sweetest person. I don’t have parents like you do, I only have my grandmother, and she’s too old to help me. Can you please do me a favor and pass a message to Wesley? Tell him I’ll be back in two years. Tell him not to worry, and ask him to wait for me.” I realized later that she only came to me because Eleanor had cut the agreed amount from six million to four million at the last second. To everyone, I was the gentle, obedient girl who could never say no. Phoebe believed that even when it came to her rival, I would be kind enough to help. I stared at the message she wanted me to deliver. Tell him I will definitely come back for him after graduation. I pressed down on the text, and after two seconds, the option appeared. Without a shred of hesitation, I hit delete. That was the very first time in my life that I did something against my conscience. But I never expected Wesley to have a car accident that very night. He was carried into the emergency room drenched in blood, slipping into a deep coma. Perhaps he had caught wind of her departure and was racing to the airport to stop her. Or perhaps he just wanted to see her one last time. Either way, on the night of my birthday, Wesley lost his memory. When he opened his eyes three days later, the first name he called out wasn’t his parents’. He asked, “Where is Jasmine?” He had forgotten everything. He forgot the scholarship student who had lived in his house, forgot her name, forgot how he had protected her, and forgot that he had wanted to call off our engagement. In his mind, I was his childhood sweetheart, his only love, and his destined wife. Under the collective silent agreement of our families, our entire social circle chose to keep the secret. Phoebe was completely erased from Wesley’s world. Felix and Zach had sat down with me to make sure we were all on the same page. “From now on, Jasmine Croft is the only girl Wesley has ever loved.” I didn’t reject the lie. That was my second mistake. With everyone reinforcing the narrative, Wesley believed it completely. He was convinced of his deep devotion to me, insisting on moving our wedding forward. And I agreed. That was my third mistake. “Jasmine Croft, do you take Wesley Sinclair to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?” The officiant’s voice pulled me back to reality. Beneath the gaze of our families and guests, I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and nodded. “I do.” Applause erupted in the chapel. Wesley noticed my tension and gently squeezed my hand under the folds of my gown, silently mouthing the words: Don’t be scared. My eyelashes fluttered, and I forced a small smile. The officiant turned his gaze to Wesley. “Wesley Sinclair, do you take Jasmine Croft to be your wedded wife…” Wesley smiled, answering almost before the officiant could finish. “I do.” More applause swept through the hall. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Wesley’s parents smiling with relief, while my own parents had tears glistening in their eyes. The officiant offered a warm smile, gesturing to Wesley. “You may exchange the rings.” Wesley carefully lifted the ring from its velvet box. It was a custom three-stone pink diamond ring, with our birthstones delicately integrated into the band. It held the promise of our future, along with the weight of my five years of silent longing. But just as the metal was about to slip over my ring finger, the heavy doors of the chapel were flung open. Someone rushed inside, breathless and frantic. “Wesley! She’s a liar!” Phoebe stumbled down the aisle, her eyes red, tears streaming down her pale face. “They all lied to you while you lost your memory! Jasmine stole my place! The one you actually love… is me!” A collective gasp echoed through the room. Wesley stared at the crying girl, then looked at his parents, who had turned pale but were trying to maintain their composure. He looked at his friends, whose faces were filled with awkward guilt. Even without his memories, he could tell that everyone had been keeping a massive secret from him. Finally, Wesley’s gaze landed on me. He frowned, his lips parting as he spoke in a low, tight voice. “Jas.” “What is going on?”

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1 My girlfriend had a universal partner for everything. At first, it was just grabbing dinner or hitting the gym with him. Then it became movies, shopping, and weekend trips. “Then what am I to you?” I had asked her once. She had laughed, light and carefree. “You’re my boyfriend, babe. Don’t be petty over a platonic partner.” But when he wanted hot pot, she canceled our movie tickets and drove across the city at midnight to wait in line with him. When he wanted to go camping, she completely forgot our anniversary, spending the entire week planning a detailed itinerary to keep him happy. When my stomach cramps were so bad I couldn’t stand straight, she told me to order delivery. The seaside cabin I booked months in advance was canceled because she was “too tired.” On my birthday, I sat alone and sliced my cake seven times. By the time the candles burned down to melted wax, she still hadn’t shown up. Instead, she posted a beautiful grid of photos on social media. She was wrapped in his oversized jacket, watching him capture the sunrise for her. Life is so much better when you have a partner who will drop everything and travel with you. Thank you to the absolute best partner ever! I left a like and slowly typed a comment. I hope you two stay partners forever. I clicked send, turned off my phone, and tossed my ring into the trash. My birthday wish was simple: to walk away from her. … My screen lit up with a barrage of notifications. “Boss Brooke, is your man jealous?” I pulled off the silver band I had worn for three years. It left a faint, red indentation on my finger. It turned out some things weren’t impossible to remove. I had just been too afraid of the pain of letting go. Brooke didn’t walk through the front door until nine the next morning. She was carrying a bag of take-out dumplings from my favorite diner. “Still mad?” Her voice was casual, carrying a familiar mix of exhaustion, cheap appeasement, and absolute certainty that I would forgive her. She set the food on the table and stepped forward to wrap her arms around me. She smelled like mountain dew mixed with the rich, synthetic scent of his car air freshener. I leaned my head away. Her arms stiffened for a second, but then she laughed. “There was no signal up on the peak last night. I really didn’t mean to ignore your texts. Don’t be childish, babe. I’ll buy you an extra nice gift to make up for it.” “Elliot, you know how much I care about you, don’t you?” Of course I did. It wasn’t that Brooke had never been gentle. I hated cilantro, and she used to write it three times in the special instructions whenever we ordered takeout. When my back flared up from old racing injuries, she would drive to a late-night pharmacy to buy heat patches. When her garage first opened and business was slow, she had walked through nearby office buildings, handing out flyers floor by floor. Even when security kicked her out, she would just rub her nose and laugh, saying, “It’s fine. We’ll try the back entrance tomorrow.” Back then, I believed her willingness to spend her time on me was proof of real love. But time has a way of diverging. Slowly, she began to steer toward someone else. Seeing my silence, Brooke opened the soy milk, poked a straw through the lid, and pushed it toward me. “Stop giving me the silent treatment. I booked a table for us tonight. Let’s go out.” Before I could speak, her phone rang. Gavin’s voice leaked loudly through the speaker. “Hey, Brooke! Didn’t you say we were trying that new barbecue place today? I already told the guys we’re coming.” “Don’t flake on me! I skipped breakfast just for this!” Brooke looked at me, covering the receiver with her palm. “How about we all go together?” When I didn’t reply, she took it as consent, letting out a relieved laugh and reaching over to ruffle my hair. “See? Gavin doesn’t mind you tagging along. You really need to stop treating him like the enemy.” Suddenly, even anger felt like too much effort. On the other end, Gavin was still shouting. “Is your boyfriend coming too? Perfect! I’ll order for us. I know exactly what Brooke likes!” Brooke smiled. “Alright, I’ll tell him.” She hung up and reached for my hand again. “Stop sulking. Let’s go tonight.” I pulled my hand back. “I’m not going.” The smile faded slightly from her face. “Elliot, that’s enough.” “I apologized. I even offered to take you out. What more do you want?” “Gavin is just like that. He’s loud, casual, and straightforward. There’s no hidden agenda. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” I looked at the dumplings on the table. The steam had softened the paper bag, and the soy milk was still warm, but I didn’t have an ounce of appetite. Brooke waited for a few seconds. Seeing that I wouldn’t budge, she finally snatched her car keys off the counter. “Fine. Take some time to cool down.” “I’ll head over first. If you change your mind, text me.” The door clicked shut, plunging the apartment into a heavy silence. In the past, whenever she walked out like this, I would sit on the sofa and wait. I would wait for her to come home, offer a half-hearted explanation, and coax me back into her good graces. But the spark was gone. I was done waiting. I opened my laptop and pulled up an old email. The head coach of an international professional racing team had invited me back to train for three consecutive years. Every year, I had declined. The shadows of my past still clung to my scars, and I hadn’t wanted to touch a steering wheel again. I had preferred to hide as a quiet entrepreneur running a barber shop, staying far away from the track. But things were different now. The suffocating pain of staying by her side had far exceeded the fear of facing my old trauma. My fingers hovered over the keyboard before I typed a simple reply. I’m ready to try. 2 It took Brooke three days to notice my emotional absence. I kept running my shop, styling hair for clients, and kept my replies to her brief. Okay. No need. I know. At first, she figured I was just throwing a tantrum. But eventually, a quiet panic must have set in. That afternoon, she showed up at my shop to pick me up, holding a bouquet of cappuccino roses. “Let’s get Cantonese tonight. Haven’t you been craving it for weeks?” There were still clients in the shop. A few young girls stole glances at us, their eyes filled with envy. Brooke was striking, charming, and knew exactly how to play the doting partner. To the outside world, she was the perfect catch. I didn’t ruin her performance. When she reached for my hand, I let her hold it, though I felt nothing. “I knew you wouldn’t hold a grudge,” she murmured, smiling. I stared out the window as she drove. She kept talking, her voice smooth. “Elliot, I know you felt neglected.” “But Gavin grew up mostly around women. He doesn’t have filters. If you make a fuss over him, it just makes you look petty.” I finally turned to look at her. “So when he ruined my birthday, it was just a lack of filters? And on our anniversary…” Brooke furrowed her brows, cutting me off. “Why are you digging up old history again? I explained this to you. His tire blew out. He was stranded alone in the middle of nowhere. It was dangerous.” I was thoroughly exhausted by her excuses. As she spoke, I quietly asked, “Brooke, do you honestly believe that as long as you claim to love me, your actions don’t cause any real harm?” Brooke froze, momentarily speechless, before reaching over to ruffle my hair again. “There you go again, taking everything so seriously.” We arrived at the restaurant in silence. The host recognized us immediately. “Your usual table?” Brooke ordered a table full of my favorite dishes. But just as I picked up a shrimp dumpling, a familiar voice echoed from the entrance. “Brooke!” Gavin waved, wearing an oversized leather motorcycle jacket. “What a coincidence!” He strolled over to our table without a hint of shame. “Our riding group just split up, and I haven’t eaten. Mind if I join?” He directed the question at me, but his eyes were locked onto Brooke. Without thinking, Brooke stood up to pull out a chair for him. He glanced at the spread. “Ooh, shrimp dumplings! My favorite!” The next second, Brooke slid my plate right over to him. “I’ll order you another one,” she said to me. My chopsticks remained frozen in the air. Gavin rested his chin in his hands, looking at me with a smirk. “You don’t mind, right? Brooke and I are so used to sharing everything anyway. We don’t care about formalities.” A few other riders who had followed him inside chimed in. “Gavin and Brooke are basically brothers. Don’t overthink it, man.” Gavin waved them off playfully. “Hey, shut up! You’ll make him upset. Brooke and I are completely platonic. She just takes really good care of me. I guess she can’t help it since our driving styles are so in sync.” Brooke merely laughed. “Hush, you.” Her tone was dripping with indulgence. Gavin stuck his tongue out. “Alright, alright. The boyfriend is boss.” I quietly sipped my porridge as Brooke laughed off the awkwardness and changed the subject. They talked and laughed for the rest of the night, leaving me entirely in the dark. The next morning, a few regular clients came in for haircuts. As they looked through style books, they gossiped about the local motorcycle scene. “Have you guys heard about Gavin? The guy who’s always trailing after his big sisters?” “Oh yeah, he’s been bragging non-stop lately.” “He posted some passive-aggressive status about how his favorite sister treats him better than her actual boyfriend. The official guy must be losing his mind.” “He’s always done that. Remember how he latched onto that other female rider last year? Played the innocent little brother, accepted expensive helmets and watches, and eventually drove her boyfriend away.” “Exactly. His favorite excuse is always: We’re just riding partners, you’re overthinking it.” My scissors slowed down slightly. “He’s done this before?” I asked quietly. The client perked up, eager to share the gossip. “Oh, countless times! Everyone in the racing scene knows him. He specifically targets women in relationships. The more the boyfriend objects, the more he paints them as insecure. And the women eat it up. They think he’s easygoing and low-maintenance compared to their partners.” I listened quietly, piecing the puzzle together. Suddenly, Brooke seemed incredibly pathetic. Her taste in people was laughable. Well, before I made my exit, I could certainly leave her with a parting gift. 3 When the local riding club organized a weekend road trip, Brooke insisted on picking me up. She wore a sharp black windbreaker, her hair styled neatly. “Let’s go! I’m finally introducing you to everyone.” She opened the passenger door for me. “You always complain that I never bring you along,” she murmured, leaning in to buckle my seatbelt. “So today, you’re coming with me.” But I knew the truth. She wasn’t bringing me into her circle. She was dragging me there to force me to accept Gavin’s presence. A dozen sports cars were lined up, their engines revving in a loud, echoing chorus. Gavin spotted us, a sweet smile plastering his face. “Look who made it! Brooke actually managed to bring the househusband out!” “But hey, aren’t you going to be terrified in the passenger seat? Unlike me, the louder the brakes screech, the more excited I get.” The other drivers laughed. Brooke frowned slightly. But Gavin was already pulling open the passenger door, grinning. “Just kidding, don’t be tense. I’m just worried because you don’t know these mountain passes. There are a lot of sharp turns ahead. I should probably navigate for her.” Brooke rubbed her nose. “Gavin knows these roads like the back of his hand. Elliot, why don’t you sit in the back for now? Safety first.” The back seat. Mountain roads. Sharp turns. The words wrapped around my throat like a vice. On that rainy night years ago, my parents had been sitting in the back seat while I drove. The slick mountain pass, the screeching brakes, the world spinning upside down, and my mother’s blood-soaked, lifeless eyes. The flashing rescue lights cutting through the heavy rain. My entire family, shattered in an instant. Before that day, I wasn’t just Elliot the barber. I had raced in junior leagues, brought home trophies, and my coach had praised my fearlessness and sharp reflexes. I was on the fast track to the professional leagues. Even my father used to tell me, “My boy drives steadier than I ever could.” But that single crash had crushed everything. The memory left me pale and frozen. But Brooke just assumed I was acting up again. She grabbed my wrist. “Elliot, don’t embarrass me in front of my friends. It’s just a seat change. If you’re really that scared, I’ll take it slow.” Gavin was already buckled into the passenger seat, waving at me through the window. “Get in, buddy! Don’t worry, I’ll guide her!” The door slammed shut, and I climbed into the back. The city skyline shrank behind us as the winding mountain roads climbed higher. At first, Brooke kept her speed down, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “You okay back there?” I stared out the glass. “Keep it slow.” “I will.” But Gavin quickly pulled out his phone to start a live stream. He aimed the camera at the road ahead, then panned to Brooke’s hands tight on the steering wheel. “Hey guys, Brooke is taking me for a spin! This pass is absolutely insane!” The chat was flying by, and Gavin grinned widely. “Brooke, remember how you used to drift that sharp corner up ahead? Show them what you’ve got!” Brooke frowned. “Stop messing around.” “Oh, come on, driving slow is boring.” He brought the phone closer to her face. “Don’t tell me you’re scared just because your boyfriend is in the back?” The car’s walkie-talkie crackled to life with other drivers joining in. “Don’t back down, Brooke! Show your man how it’s done!” I stared at the road ahead. It had rained the night before, and wet patches still mirrored the trees in the shadows. I couldn’t help but speak up. “The road is slick. Don’t drift.” Gavin’s smile faltered. “Relax, buddy. We’ve run this route dozens of times.” I repeated, “There is standing water on the asphalt.” Brooke glanced at me through the mirror, her irritation clear. “Elliot, I know you’re uncomfortable, but don’t ruin the mood for everyone. I know what I’m doing.” But then, the tail of the car fish-tailed. The tires lost traction on a wet patch, and the entire vehicle lurched violently. The screech of tires from that rainy night, my mother’s screams, the sound of shattering glass, it all rushed back in a deafening wave. I clung to my seatbelt, my breath turning shallow and rapid. I heard myself whisper, “Stop the car…” but my voice was barely audible. Gavin shrieked first, “Brooke!” The moment Brooke regained control of the vehicle, her immediate reaction was to reach over and pull Gavin into her arms. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.” She unbuckled her seatbelt, turning her entire body to comfort him. I sat frozen in the back seat, my ears ringing. I tried to reach for the door handle, but my limbs felt like lead. It took several minutes for Brooke to finally look back at me. Seeing the pale, rigid expression on my face, she immediately scoffed. “He was terrified, Elliot! Can you please stop giving us that look? We’re all out to have a good time. You need to stop being so uptight.” I looked down at my phone, opened an app for a moving company, and sent them my address. Please arrive promptly at 9:00 AM the day after tomorrow. 4 I couldn’t recover after we got back. The sound of screeching tires echoed constantly in my head, and my stomach felt like it was being twisted in a knot. Brooke came over and pressed her hand to my forehead. “Why are you so burning hot?!” She rushed to pour a glass of water and rummaged through the medicine cabinet. “How did you manage to get yourself this sick?” Frowning, she tucked the blanket around my shoulders, placing her warm palm against my back to soothe me. But then, her hand froze as her phone began to ring. Gavin’s name flashed across the screen. “Brooke, I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see the car sliding on the mountain road. I’m so scared. Can you come over and keep me company for a bit?” A flicker of hesitation crossed her eyes, but she stood up anyway. “I’ll be right back.” She didn’t return until seven the next morning, carrying a container of porridge and medicine. Seeing me sitting up against the headboard, she walked over and touched my cheek. “Still mad?” “I know I shouldn’t have left last night,” she sighed. “But Gavin has no one else. You have me, Elliot. He’s completely alone in this city. Who else can he turn to?” I pushed her hand away. “Do I really have you, Brooke?” Brooke blinked, startled, then frowned. “Do you have to be like this? I came back, didn’t I?” She dismissed the question, clearly unwilling to engage. “Next Saturday is the garage’s anniversary party. You’re coming, right? You’re my future husband, you need to be there to support me.” I didn’t say yes, nor did I say no. A few days later, Gavin strolled into my barber shop, a breezy smile on his face. “Hey, big guy. Give me a fresh cut. I need to look perfect for the garage’s anniversary party next week. You’re coming to the party, right? Brooke said she has to bring you along for formal events.” “Honestly, I’m kind of jealous of you,” he laughed. “It must be nice to have the official title. Unlike me, I’m the one who goes drifting with her, stays up late, and helps her sign clients. But in the end, I’m still just a partner.” I kept my hands steady, carefully trimming the ends of his hair. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But Brooke did say you’re fragile. She doesn’t want you exerting yourself, so she lets me handle the heavy lifting to keep you comfortable.” The scissors paused for a fraction of a second. He saw the pause and grinned, thinking he had finally struck a nerve. I simply looked at him. “Anything else you want trimmed?” On the night of the anniversary, I closed my shop early. When I got back to the apartment, more than half of my belongings were already gone. Over the years, I had slowly filled this space with warmth. Now, in a single day, I had erased my presence entirely. My phone buzzed with a boarding reminder from the international racing team. I took one last look around the apartment. In that kitchen, I had cooked for Brooke. On that balcony, I had spent hours waiting for her to come home. At that dining table, I had sliced my birthday cake alone. This place held all the evidence of my love for her. Now, it was cleared away. I was truly letting go. At the garage’s anniversary party, Gavin was showing off his haircut, laughing with a group of drivers. “Where’s the boyfriend? Why isn’t he here yet?” Brooke checked her phone. There were no texts from me. A wave of irritation washed over her, but she forced a smile and made an excuse. “He’s not feeling well. He should be arriving shortly.” Gavin chuckled softly. “Maybe he’s still pouting. Men are so easy to manage once you soothe their egos.” Just then, an employee approached with a small gift box. “Brooke, a courier just delivered this from your boyfriend.” The box was incredibly tiny. Gavin glanced at it with a smirk. “A tiny box for such a big milestone? Well, I guess it’s the thought that counts.” A few people laughed. Brooke felt a twinge of disappointment, but her expression softened when she opened the box and saw a custom flash drive inside. She had given me that drive back when we first started dating. She had told me, “If you ever want to give me a major surprise, start with this. It has sentimental value.” Over the years, I had used it to organize her birthday surprises, compiling old promotional videos, client testimonials, and business proposals I had stayed up all night drafting. On one of those nights, she had held me with tear-filled eyes and whispered, “Elliot, you understand me better than anyone in the world.” Remembering that, her annoyance melted away. Her chest warmed with a quiet anticipation. Had I prepared another surprise for her? Was my cold behavior over the last few days just a setup for this grand gesture? Gavin rolled his eyes but urged her on. “Go on, Brooke, plug it in! Let’s see what kind of surprise we have.” With the entire room watching, Brooke stepped up to the main stage and plugged the flash drive into the laptop connected to the projector.

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For generations, my family has produced high-ranking females who bring good fortune and bear top-tier beast cubs. But after marrying Lion King Emmett for seven years, I showed no signs of pregnancy. During those seven years, his mother treated me like a slave, and the entire tribe mocked me as a useless woman who couldn’t produce an heir. Until that day when Emmett brought back a delicate white rabbit female. He drained a bowl of my heart’s blood in front of everyone and kicked me off Sin Beast Cliff, where bodies are never recovered. “You’re useless trash occupying the Chief’s wife position. Go feed the vultures!” I thought I was dead. But when I opened my eyes, I found myself staring into a pair of dark green, sinister vertical pupils. The legendary bloodthirsty, one-legged psychotic Leopard King was coldly watching me. Later, when divine punishment struck the Lion Tribe and decimated their numbers, Emmett knelt at the cliff’s edge, begging me to return. I looked down at him from above, my pregnant belly protruding: “Get lost. Don’t wake the little black leopard in my belly.”

Wind swept across the Beast Platform like knives. Two strong lion males pinned me against the sacrificial post. My wrists were slashed open, blood dripping down the rough stone grooves into the stone bowl below. Drip. Drip. My blood was almost drained. My whole body trembled from the cold. “Emmett…” My cracked lips moved as I looked toward the man standing on the high platform. The man I’d loved for seven years, served for seven years, and even sacrificed my heart’s blood to cure. He wore the crimson tiger fur I’d sewn with my own hands, looking majestic and imposing. But in his arms, he held a petite, delicate white rabbit female. “Don’t call my name. It disgusts me.” Emmett looked down at me with only revulsion in his eyes. His mother, the tribe’s old witch doctor, hobbled over with her cane and picked up the stone bowl filled with my blood. “Bah! Useless trash who can’t bear children!” The old witch doctor spat a thick glob of phlegm at my feet. “Seven years! Eating our Lion Tribe’s food, drinking our Lion Tribe’s water, and not even a shadow of a cub! Today, draining a bowl of your blood to nourish Grace’s bloodline is the last bit of value you have!” Grace leaned against Emmett’s chest, saying timidly, “Emmett, she’s lost so much blood. Will she die? I’m scared.” Emmett tenderly covered her eyes. “Good girl, don’t look at this filthy thing. Trash like her isn’t worth pitying even if she dies.” Filthy thing. I laughed. Seven years ago, he knelt before my father, swearing he’d treasure me like his own eyes for life. Seven years later, I’d become the filthy thing in his mouth. “Emmett, what did you promise my brother?” I gritted my teeth, staring at him intently. When I mentioned my brother, Emmett’s expression changed, guilt flashing in his eyes before quickly turning to anger. “You dare mention your brother? If he hadn’t traded his eye to make me marry you, you think I’d want a useless woman who can’t bear cubs?” Emmett suddenly drew the bone knife from his waist, pointing it at my nose. “Today, I announce before the entire tribe — I’m stripping Sophia of her position as Chief’s wife! From now on, whether she lives or dies has nothing to do with our Lion Tribe!” The entire crowd cheered. “Should’ve gotten rid of her long ago!” “Exactly! Occupying the position without producing cubs, she’s caused our Lion Tribe’s fortune to decline!” “Throw her off Sin Beast Cliff! Let her die!” Sin Beast Cliff. The tribe’s forbidden land, where poisonous mist lingered year-round at the bottom, filled with disabled, crazed beasts abandoned by the tribe. Fall down there, and not even bone fragments would remain. Emmett walked up to me, his gaze as cold as if looking at a corpse. “Sophia, for old times’ sake, I’ll personally send you off.” With that, he lifted his foot and kicked hard into my chest. Searing pain struck. My body flew like a kite with a cut string, plummeting straight into the bottomless abyss. Wind howled in my ears. I closed my eyes. If there’s a next life, I’ll never be anyone’s stepping stone again.

Pain. Piercing pain. I thought I’d be smashed to pulp or poisoned to death by the toxic mist at the cliff’s bottom. But I wasn’t. I hung on a massive dead tree, its branches piercing through my thigh, blood gushing out. Everything around was dark, the air thick with pungent rot and intense wild beast scent. This was the bottom of Sin Beast Cliff. I gritted my teeth and pulled my thigh off the branch bit by bit. “Hiss–” I gasped in pain and fell heavily onto moss-covered rocks. Before I could catch my breath, several pairs of eerie green eyes suddenly lit up in the darkness. Hyenas. The lowest scavengers at the cliff’s bottom. They’d caught the scent of blood and were drooling as they closed in on me. I fumbled for a rock and gripped it tightly, staring them down. Even if I die, I’m taking one with me. Just as the lead hyena prepared to pounce — “ROAR!” A low, hoarse beast roar carrying terrifying pressure came from nearby. The pack of hyenas fled whimpering with their tails between their legs, as if they’d seen some terrible monster. I looked toward the sound. A tall shadow emerged from the thick fog. It was a man. Or rather, a half-beast. His upper body was bare, muscles coiled, covered with horrifying crisscrossing scars. Most striking was his right leg — below the knee, empty. He leaned on a crude black bone crutch, approaching me step by step. He walked up to me, looking down from above. In the faint light, I finally saw his face clearly. An extremely wild, handsome face, but with a claw mark on his left cheek so deep bone showed through, destroying the beauty and making it exceptionally fierce. He had dark green vertical pupils. A black panther. I recognized him. Dante Blackwood. Once the greatest warrior of Beast Mountain, chief of the Black Panther Tribe. Five years ago, while resisting the beast tide, he lost a leg and his face was ruined. Betrayed by his tribesmen, he was pushed off Sin Beast Cliff. Everyone thought he was dead. I never expected he’d survived and become the overlord of this cliff bottom. “Lion Tribe scent.” He spoke, his voice like sandpaper, ice-cold. He lifted my chin with his crutch, looking at me like garbage. “Are those above throwing down trash like you now?” I bit my lip and said nothing. I didn’t want to explain or beg for mercy. He stared at me for a few seconds, seeming to find me uninteresting. He withdrew his crutch and turned to leave. “Wait!” I don’t know where I found the strength, but I lunged forward and grabbed his good leg. His body stiffened. He looked down at me, killing intent flashing in his eyes. “Let go.” “No.” I held on tight. “Take me with you. I can work. I know herbs. I can sew beast hides.” I knew that at this cliff bottom, an injured female like me wouldn’t survive the night. Dante was my only chance at survival. He sneered. “I don’t need trash.” “I’m not trash!” I raised my head, looking straight into those terrifying vertical pupils. “I just can’t bear children, but I can help you live better at this cliff bottom!” He narrowed his eyes, seeming to assess my value. After a long while, he kicked me away. “If you can keep up, come. Die halfway, and it’s your bad luck.” With that, he walked away without looking back. I gritted my teeth, covered my bleeding thigh, and limped after him.

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Before the school stage play performance, my daughter Betty came home clutching a dingy cardboard costume, secretly wiping tears in the corner. I asked her what role she was playing. She mumbled quietly, “A trash can.” Her teacher posted the program schedule in the group chat, explaining: “Every child is important. Trash cans are also part of urban civilization.” But when I clicked on it, I discovered that the school board chairman’s daughter was playing the princess, and the PTA president’s son was playing the prince. And my daughter’s name was placed at the very bottom of the “Background Props Group.” My daughter’s teacher messaged me privately: “Mrs. James, don’t be too fussy. Your family hasn’t really contributed much to the class.” I looked at the contract on the table that I’d just signed and smiled. That cardboard costume was hastily thrown together from delivery boxes. Square and boxy, painted with a layer of gray, with the words “Trash Can” crookedly stuck on the chest. My daughter Betty stood in the entryway, fingers twisting the hem of her clothes, eyes red as if she’d just been crying. She’s seven years old this year. Usually she’d feel bad for half a day if her dress hem got a little muddy, but now she clutched that dirty cardboard costume, trying hard to act like it didn’t matter. “Mom, Samantha said this role is important too.” Her voice got smaller and smaller. “Everyone needs to protect the environment, so we need trash cans.” I crouched down and took the cardboard costume from her arms. The gray paint wasn’t completely dry yet and got all over my hands. I suppressed my anger and asked her, “Didn’t you say before that you were going to play the little artist with a paintbrush?” Half a month ago, she practiced her lines in front of the mirror every night. “I’m going to paint the sky blue and paint every child into springtime.” One line, she’d practice seriously more than ten times. She even showed me her sketch. Rainbows, stages, balloons, and a group of children standing in the center. She said the teacher praised her drawing as the best and would let her be the opening little artist for Children’s Day. Betty lowered her head. “Samantha said Christiana is more suitable for the little artist.” “Her dad is the school board chairman. The principal said she has to stand in the center.” I picked up my phone and opened the class group chat. The program schedule had just been posted: “Childlike Hearts Toward the Future.” Princess: Christiana. Prince: Mendez. Little Artist: Christiana. Flower Team: PTA members’ children. Background Props Group: Betty, Trash Can. I stared at that line for a long time. My phone buzzed again. Teacher Samantha sent me a private message. “Mrs. James, I know you might feel a bit uncomfortable, but children need to adapt to the group.” “Many parents contributed money and effort for our class’s Children’s Day activity this time.” “You’re usually busy with work, don’t participate in the PTA, and don’t really contribute to the class. The teacher can only consider everything comprehensively.” “The trash can role also has great educational significance. Please don’t let your child misunderstand.” I looked at the words “contribute” and almost laughed out loud. Three hours ago, SUN School had just sent someone to my office to sign the sponsorship contract for the entire Children’s Day event with me. Stage, lighting, live streaming, photography, balloons, interactive gifts. Total price: eight hundred sixty thousand dollars. The contract’s Party A was James Entertainment under my name. The school representative had nodded and bowed, saying this Children’s Day gala was an important window for showcasing the school’s arts education achievements, and hoped we could cooperate long-term. I only made one request at the time. Make sure all the children happily celebrate Children’s Day. The representative smiled and said, “Don’t worry, Ms. James. Our school has always put children first.” Now it seemed they valued not children, but the parents behind the children. I didn’t immediately reply to Samantha. I placed the cardboard costume on the table and asked Betty, “Did anyone laugh at you during rehearsal today?” Tears immediately fell from her eyes. “Mendez said I was just there on stage for them to throw waste paper at.” “He also stuffed his finished yogurt box into my costume.” “Samantha saw it and said it was part of the performance effect.” My fingers clenched bit by bit. Betty hurriedly wiped her tears. “Mom, can I not go tomorrow?” I hugged her. “Go.” Her body stiffened. I gently stroked her head. “But not to be a trash can.”

Early the next morning, I took Betty to school. The stage had already been set up on the playground. The main backdrop featured the rainbow and balloons from Betty’s drawing. Even the little sun in the lower right corner that was slightly crooked was exactly the same as in her draft. But the signature on the backdrop read: Christiana. I stood at the edge of the playground, staring at those words, and suddenly understood. Betty hadn’t just had her role stolen—her artwork had been stolen too. Samantha saw me, and a flash of impatience crossed her face. “Mrs. James, parent viewing doesn’t start until this afternoon. You can’t go backstage right now.” I smiled. “I’m here to help my child change clothes.” Samantha glanced at the clean white jacket in my hands. “Didn’t we already distribute the costumes?” As she spoke, she pointed to the cardboard on the ground nearby. That gray trash can costume had been carelessly thrown in a corner, with footprints from several children next to it. Betty instinctively hid behind me. Samantha frowned. “Betty, what are you hiding from? Didn’t you agree yesterday that you’d cooperate with the teacher today?” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough for several nearby parents to hear. PTA president Rachel walked over. She wore a champagne-colored suit with a volunteer badge pinned to her chest. “Samantha, you can’t spoil children. If they don’t understand, you have to teach them.” She glanced at me and smiled lightly. “So many of us parents have been working tirelessly. Which child hasn’t followed the arrangements? Some people don’t contribute money or effort, but when it’s time to go on stage, they complain about the role.” “How can there be such a good deal?” Her son Mendez was standing nearby wearing his prince costume. Hearing his mother backing him up, he immediately made a face at Betty. “The trash can is here.” “Later I’ll throw paper balls at you. You’d better catch them.” Betty’s face went pale. I turned to look at Mendez. “Who taught you to talk like that?” Rachel’s expression darkened as she pulled her son behind her. “A child making a joke, and you, an adult, have to make a big deal of it?” Samantha also spoke up. “Mrs. James, today is Children’s Day. Everyone’s happy. Please don’t make the atmosphere awkward.” I asked her, “Can a child be happy being called a trash can?” Samantha’s brow twitched. “It’s just a role name.” “Besides, environmental protection themes need someone to play the trash can. Betty has a quiet personality, so she’s more suitable.” I took out my phone and opened a screenshot of the original program schedule Betty had shown me last night. “Then why did it originally say Betty would play the little artist?” Samantha’s expression changed. “Program adjustments are normal.” Rachel crossed her arms and sneered. “Mrs. James, I advise you not to make a scene.” “This school isn’t run by whoever has the loudest voice.” “Christiana’s father is the school board chairman. Our family handled the gift procurement for this Children’s Day. Other parents also contributed to class activity fees.” She looked me up and down. “And you?” “Besides dropping off and picking up your child on time, what else have you done?” “You don’t contribute resources but want your child to have center stage. Isn’t that teaching your child to freeload?” I suddenly laughed. “So children’s roles are assigned based on parent contributions.” Samantha immediately interrupted. “I didn’t say that.” But Rachel didn’t think she’d said anything wrong. “Pretty much.” “That’s how society works. Letting children understand early isn’t a bad thing.” “Children with resources get more opportunities. Children without resources learn to cooperate. When she grows up, she’ll thank us for letting her adapt to society early.” She said it so righteously. Although Samantha didn’t respond, she didn’t refute it either. I looked down at Betty. She was clutching my hand, her little face deathly pale. I crouched down and smoothed the stray hair from her forehead. “Did you hear that?” “It’s not that you’re not good enough.” “It’s that they’re dirty themselves and call their disgustingness ‘reality.’” Betty stared at me blankly. Rachel’s expression turned ugly. “Who are you calling dirty?” I stood up. “Whoever feels guilty knows who I’m talking about!”

Samantha, probably afraid I’d keep making a scene, reached out to pull Betty. “Go change first. The performance is about to start.” Betty took a step back. “Teacher, I don’t want to play the trash can.” Samantha’s expression completely turned cold. “Betty, what did the teacher tell you yesterday?” “Group activities can’t have problems because of one person.” “Your mother doesn’t understand, so you have to not understand too?” Tears welled up in Betty’s eyes. Mendez quietly laughed nearby. “If you don’t perform, you won’t get a Children’s Day gift.” Rachel lightly patted Mendez’s head. “Mendez, don’t talk nonsense.” But her face clearly showed indulgence. Just then, the backstage curtain was pulled open and a little girl in a white gauze dress ran out. Wearing a crown on her head and holding a paintbrush in her hand—it was the school board chairman’s daughter, Christiana. She saw Betty and wrinkled her nose. “Samantha, why hasn’t she changed into the trash can yet?” “After I finish painting the rainbow at the opening, I need to throw the waste paper in.” “If she doesn’t stand there, where am I supposed to throw it?” Children speak without restraint, but some children’s malice never grows from nothing. Samantha quickly coaxed her. “Christiana, don’t worry. It’ll be ready soon.” She turned to look at me and lowered her voice. “Mrs. James, please don’t make this difficult for me.” “The school board chairman and principal will be here soon. We can’t mess up the program.” I asked, “Who set the program?” Samantha didn’t answer. Rachel clicked her tongue impatiently. “What exactly do you want?” “It’s just a role. If you’re dissatisfied, why didn’t you join the PTA in the first place?” “Our family alone advanced tens of thousands for gift procurement for this Children’s Day.” “Christiana’s family donated a dance studio to the school.” “What right does your child have to compete with them?” Just as I was about to retort, Principal Antoine walked over with several administrators. He was all smiles. “Why is everyone gathered here?” Rachel immediately went up to him. “Principal Antoine, it’s nothing serious.” “A parent is dissatisfied with her child’s role assignment and is making a scene here.” Samantha also added in a low voice. “Mrs. James isn’t cooperating with the school’s work and is interfering with the program.” Principal Antoine looked at me, his smile fading a bit. “Parent, today is the school-wide Children’s Day performance. City officials will also be here.” “If you have any issues, we can communicate after the event.” “Please don’t disrupt normal order right now.” I looked at him. “What if the problem is your order itself?” Principal Antoine’s face darkened. “Parents need to watch what they say.” “Our SUN School has been running for many years. We prioritize children’s comprehensive development above all.” Rachel sneered nearby. “Principal Antoine, don’t waste words on her.” “Some parents are like this—they don’t support the school normally, but make a big deal out of everything.” “We can’t indulge this kind of attitude.” Samantha, as if finding a backer, reached for the trash can costume on the ground. “Betty, go change.” Betty didn’t move. Samantha’s voice rose. “Betty!” “If you don’t change, today’s entire class program will be delayed because of you.” “When your classmates blame you, don’t come crying to the teacher.” Betty was so scared she trembled. I gripped her shoulder. “No need to change.” Principal Antoine frowned. “Security, please escort this parent to the waiting room.” Two security guards were about to step forward. My phone rang. The caller was my assistant. “Ms. James, the lighting team has completed final testing, and the live streaming link is also set up.” “The school is urging us to send the final payment confirmation.” I looked at Principal Antoine and pressed speakerphone. “Don’t send it yet.” My assistant paused. “What do you mean?” I said, “Notify the on-site execution team. James Entertainment is withdrawing all stage, lighting, live streaming, photography, and gift sponsorship for this Children’s Day performance. Now!”

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In the fifth year of our marriage, Lucas knelt in the pouring rain, begging me to save him. He said his company had lost a financial gamble and owed five hundred million dollars. If I mortgaged the century-old manor my parents left me, it would save his life. To avoid dragging me down, he proposed a fake divorce. My heart ached so much my whole body trembled. J ust as I was about to sign with the property deed in hand, I accidentally saw a message he sent to his first love: “That idiot Sophia has taken the bait. Once I get my hands on the manor, I’ll tear it down and build a French château with a rose garden as our wedding house.” So there was no bankruptcy, no desperate situation. He just wanted to bleed me dry to pave the way for his first love. I let out a cold laugh, turned around, and knocked on the door of his uncle—the terrifying billionaire of the Blackwood family: “Mr. Blackwood, I heard you need a legitimate Mrs. Blackwood?” Lucas knelt in the pouring rain for three full hours. Lightning tore through the night sky, illuminating his pale, haggard yet still handsome face. I rushed out with an umbrella, my body trembling with heartache as I desperately tried to pull him up from the mud. “Lucas, have you lost your mind? Your stomach condition can’t handle getting soaked in the rain!” He gripped my hand tightly in return, his eyes bloodshot, his voice so hoarse it seemed to be dripping blood: “Sophia, I’m finished.” “The company’s financial agreement failed, and the cash flow is completely broken. A five-hundred-million-dollar hole—if I can’t fill it within three days, I’ll face criminal charges for economic crimes. I’ll go to prison!” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, my mind going blank. Five hundred million? Lucas only owned a subsidiary under the Blackwood Group. How could he suddenly owe such a staggering debt? He suddenly pulled me into his embrace. Rain mixed with his tears fell ice-cold onto my neck. “Sophia, I’m sorry. I’m useless. I couldn’t protect our home.” “The lawyer said the safest option is for us to divorce immediately. I’ll bear all the debts alone and absolutely won’t drag you down.” He lifted his head, his eyes filled with heartbreaking despair and deep affection. “But Sophia, I don’t want to go to prison… Can you help me? If you just temporarily mortgage that century-old manor your parents left you to the bank, we can get the last bit of lifesaving money. Once this blows over, I swear I’ll redeem it!” I froze. That century-old manor on the hillside was the last keepsake my parents left me before they died in a car accident. It held all my childhood memories, every tree and blade of grass, and the shrine with my parents’ ashes. Five years ago, when Lucas proposed to me, he swore in the manor’s rose garden that he would spend his life protecting me and the manor. But now, he was asking me to mortgage it. “Lucas, that’s where my parents…” My voice trembled. “I know! I know it’s your life!” He suddenly broke down, pounding the ground as muddy water splattered. “If there were any other way, I’d rather die than ask you this! Sophia, are you going to watch me die?” Seeing him in such pain, my heart softened. Five years of marriage—he had always been gentle and considerate toward me. How could I watch him go to prison? “Alright.” My eyes reddened as I nodded through tears. “I’ll mortgage it. We’ll go handle the paperwork tomorrow.” Lucas’s body shook violently. He pulled me into a tight embrace, the force nearly breaking my ribs. “Sophia, thank you, thank you… I’ll repay you for the rest of my life, even if it means working like a slave.” In that moment, I truly believed we were going through a life-and-death trial together. Until that night. Lucas developed a high fever from the rain and fell into a deep sleep after taking fever medicine. His phone slipped into the gap between the bed and the wall, the screen constantly lighting up. Worried it might be an urgent matter from company executives, I picked it up to check. Just one glance made me feel like I’d fallen into an ice pit. On the screen was a message from “Victoria White.” “Lucas, did you sign the divorce papers? That manor from the Hayes family has such a great location. I want to tear it down and build a French château with a rose garden as our wedding gift. You promised me that once I returned to the country, you’d give me the best of everything.” I stared at those lines of text, my blood instantly freezing, my whole body cold as ice. Victoria White. Lucas’s first love who went abroad and whom he could never forget. My fingers trembling, I opened their chat history. I scrolled up. The more I scrolled, the more my heart felt like it was being sliced apart, shattered into fragments on the ground. “That idiot Sophia has already taken the bait. Tomorrow we’ll handle the divorce and mortgage.” “I made the fake five-hundred-million account very clean. Damien won’t notice. Once the money is laundered into the offshore account, I’ll take you far away.” “I’m sorry you had to wait so many years, Victoria. Once I get the manor, that plain-Jane Sophia will have no more use.” Every sentence, every word was like a poisoned blade stabbing viciously into my heart. So there was no failed gamble. No five-hundred-million-dollar debt. No desperate situation. This was a carefully planned scam from beginning to end! He not only wanted to trick me into leaving with nothing, but he also wanted to take my parents’ last legacy to build a new house for his first love! I didn’t cry. When the pain reaches its extreme, tears won’t flow. I calmly took out my own phone and photographed these chat records, page by page, all of them. Then I put the phone back in its place and turned to look at Lucas sleeping peacefully on the bed. His brow was relaxed, and the corners of his mouth even carried a faint smile. He was probably dreaming about marrying Victoria White in a French château. I tugged at the corner of my mouth, revealing a cold smile uglier than a ghost’s. Lucas, you want to use my life to please another woman? Fine. I’ll see who ends up dead with nowhere to be buried.

The next morning when Lucas woke up, I was already sitting on the sofa, holding the divorce agreement in my hands. He froze for a moment. Wild joy flashed in his eyes, but he quickly covered it with guilt and pain. “Sophia, you didn’t sleep all night?” He walked over, wanting to touch my face with concern. I turned my head to avoid him and said flatly, “Let’s go to the law firm. The sooner we finish, the sooner you can deal with the debt.” Lucas’s hand froze in midair, then he sighed. “I’m sorry for putting you through this, Sophia. Once I get through this crisis, I’ll definitely remarry you in a grand ceremony.” I looked at his deeply affectionate face, my stomach churning with nausea. At ten in the morning, we went to the law firm and signed the divorce agreement. As we walked out of the law firm entrance, Lucas’s mother, my former mother-in-law Dorothy Lane, was already waiting beside a black Maybach. The moment she saw me, she immediately put on an anxious expression and rushed over to grab my hand. “Sophia, I know you’ve been wronged! But Lucas is at a critical moment of life and death. Did you bring the property deed for that manor? Quick, let’s go to the bank right now to handle the mortgage!” The greed in her eyes was practically overflowing. I pulled my hand back and looked calmly at this mother-son pair. “Dorothy, I can’t mortgage the manor today.” Dorothy’s expression changed instantly, her voice rising sharply: “Why not?! Sophia Hayes, are you going back on your word? Do you want to watch Lucas die?!” Lucas panicked too, grabbing my shoulder: “Sophia, what’s going on? Didn’t we agree?” I watched their frantic expressions, sneering inwardly. “Lucas, you forgot—that manor is a national first-class historical protected building. According to the latest regulations, this level of asset mortgage requires a thirty-day public notice period and review by a third-party asset evaluation agency. Otherwise, the bank simply won’t approve it.” This was the policy I’d looked up last night. Lucas froze, his face turning pale: “Thirty days? Why does it take so long? I can’t wait thirty days!” “There’s no way around it. That’s the regulation.” I looked at him innocently. “Unless you can find someone with special privileges to smooth things over at the bank. But I’m a woman without power or connections. I can’t do that.” Dorothy stamped her feet in frustration: “What are we going to do! Lucas, don’t you know a lot of people?” Lucas gritted his teeth, his eyes flickering. Of course he knew people, but he didn’t dare use the Blackwood family’s connections. Because the five-hundred-million debt was fake to begin with—if it alerted the real power holder of the Blackwood family, he’d be finished. “Fine, thirty days it is.” Lucas took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the darkness in his eyes. “Sophia, during this time you must cooperate with the evaluation agency. Don’t let anything go wrong.” “Don’t worry.” I smiled faintly. Not only would I cooperate, I’d prepare a big gift for them. After parting with them, I took a cab directly to a top-tier private investigation agency. I had just walked into the lobby when I stopped in my tracks. In front of the floor-to-ceiling window of the VIP reception room stood a man. He wore an impeccably tailored black haute couture suit, his tall figure upright like an unsheathed sword. His hand casually toyed with an antique watch. His profile was as cold and chiseled as a sculpture, radiating an aura of authority that warned people to stay away. Damien Blackwood. Lucas’s uncle, the true helmsman of the Blackwood Group. In the entire business world, no one didn’t fear the name Damien Blackwood. He was ruthless and decisive. At twenty-five, he took over Blackwood Industries and within just five years doubled its empire. Lucas didn’t even dare breathe loudly in front of him. I hadn’t expected to run into him here. As if sensing my gaze, Damien turned his head slightly. Those deep, cold black eyes locked precisely onto my face. He showed no surprise, merely stopped toying with his watch. “Sophia Hayes.” He spoke, his voice low and magnetic, carrying an inexplicable pressure. I took a deep breath and walked forward: “Damien.” “You and Lucas are divorced.” He used a statement, not a question. My heart skipped a beat. How did he know? We’d only finished the paperwork less than two hours ago. Damien looked at me, the corner of his mouth curving into an extremely faint cold smile: “For his fake five-hundred-million account, you’re even planning to hand over your parents’ legacy. Sophia Hayes, is your brain filled with water?” I jerked my head up, staring at him in shock. He knew! He actually knew everything! Damien strode toward me on his long legs. He was a full head taller than me, his aggressive presence instantly enveloping me. He leaned down slightly, his eyes sharp as they bored into mine: “What, got sold out and you’re still planning to help count the money?” I bit my lower lip hard, meeting his gaze, my voice cold and hard: “Since Damien knew it was a fake account, why didn’t you expose him?” “The Blackwood family has too many branch families. Occasionally we need a few clever fools to liven things up.” Damien’s tone was casual, as if discussing trash. “Besides, that’s your husband, your money. Why should I care?” Yes, why should he care? In Damien Blackwood’s eyes, Lucas and I were nothing but insignificant ants. I took a deep breath, suppressing the bitterness and anger in my heart, looking at him without backing down. “What if I don’t want to be the fool who gets sold?” Damien raised an eyebrow slightly, seemingly interested in my response. He pulled a black gold business card from his pocket, his slender fingers holding it as he handed it to me. “Tonight at nine, penthouse suite. Figure out what you want, then come knock on my door.” With that, he turned and left, leaving only a cold, retreating figure. I looked down at the business card in my hand. Its edge was sharp, almost cutting my finger. I knew this was a dangerous transaction. But to get revenge on Lucas and Victoria, to protect my parents’ manor, I had no other choice.

At nine o’clock that evening, I stood punctually at the door of Damien Blackwood’s suite. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the doorbell. The door opened quickly. Damien had just showered. He wore a black silk robe, the collar slightly open, revealing a large expanse of firm, hard chest muscles. Water droplets slid down his sharp jawline and disappeared into the depths of his robe, exuding a fatally sexy and dangerous aura. He held a glass of whiskey in his hand, his deep gaze sweeping over me. “Come in.” The suite’s main lights weren’t on. Only the city’s neon lights from outside the floor-to-ceiling windows filtered in, light and shadow interweaving. I stood nervously in the center of the living room, watching as he walked to the bar, poured another glass of liquor, and pushed it toward me. “Want a drink?” “No.” I got straight to the point. “Damien, what do you need me to do for you to help me?” Damien let out a soft laugh, carrying his glass as he walked up to me, looking down at me from his superior height. “Sophia Hayes, what makes you think I’ll help you?” “Because Lucas touched the Blackwood family’s money.” I looked directly into his eyes. “Although his three-billion-dollar hole is fake, he misappropriated project funds from Blackwood subsidiaries to set up his scheme. Damien hates most when people play tricks under your nose. You need an excuse to legitimately clean house.” A flash of appreciation appeared in Damien’s eyes, but it vanished in an instant. He suddenly reached out, gripping my chin and forcing my head up. The man’s fingers carried an icy temperature, the force immense, making it hurt. “You’re a bit smarter than I expected.” His voice was low, carrying dangerous allure. “But to clean house, I have a hundred methods. Why would I choose the most troublesome one to cooperate with your revenge game?” I was forced to tilt my head back, breathing rapidly. His breath completely enveloped me. That intense male hormones and superior’s authority made me almost unable to think. “Because…” I gritted my teeth and steeled myself. “Because you hate Victoria White.” Damien’s eyes instantly turned cold, the surrounding air seeming to freeze. I’d bet correctly. Victoria White’s father had once been a senior executive at Blackwood Group. He was sent to prison by Damien himself for embezzling company funds. Victoria had been abroad these years, constantly using the Blackwood family name to swindle and deceive. Damien extremely detested this woman. “Continue.” He released his grip, coolly uttering one word. I rubbed my reddened chin and quickly said: “Lucas plans to officially announce his takeover as CEO at next month’s Blackwood subsidiary anniversary gala, and simultaneously announce his engagement to Victoria White. If on that day he’s thoroughly disgraced in front of all the city’s elite, Victoria will also become a complete laughingstock. Isn’t that the scene Damien most wants to see?” Damien looked at me quietly, emotions I couldn’t understand surging in those unfathomable black eyes. After a long while, he suddenly smiled. That smile was cold, cruel, yet carried a trace of fatal attraction. “Sophia Hayes, when a dog bites you, not only do you want to kill the dog, you want to skin it, pull out its tendons, make it into a specimen for exhibition.” He turned and walked to the desk, picked up a thick document, and tossed it in front of me. “This is all the evidence of Lucas misappropriating public funds, forging debts, and purchasing private islands abroad for Victoria White.” My whole body shook. I immediately rushed over and opened the file. Every transfer, every forged contract—all clear and shocking. Lucas, how ruthless you are. For one woman, you not only wanted me to lose everything, but you also wanted to climb up by stepping on my bones and blood. “This is just a deposit.” Damien walked behind me, his warm breath spraying on my ear. “To get the more lethal cards, you need to pay a price.” “What price?” I turned my head, but unexpectedly crashed into his deep eyes. We were extremely close—so close I could see each of his distinct eyelashes. Damien’s gaze slowly moved down, landing on my lips, his voice hoarse beyond measure. “Become my woman.” My pupils contracted sharply. I instinctively stepped back. “Damien, what kind of joke is this?” “I never joke.” Damien pressed forward step by step, pinning me against the cold floor-to-ceiling window. “Sophia Hayes, if you want to trample Lucas underfoot, you need someone who stands higher and more stable than him. And I am your only choice.” He reached out, his slender fingers gently caressing my cheek, his eyes deep as the sea. “What’s wrong? Unwilling? Or do you still have lingering feelings for that waste?” “No!” I blurted out, my eyes full of hatred. “I wish he were dead!” “Very good.” Damien’s lips curved with satisfaction. He lowered his head, his thin lips brushing past my earlobe. “Then prove it to me. Go back and continue playing your devoted ex-wife. Keep them stable. When the time is right, I’ll personally bring you out of the game.” I leaned against the glass, my heart pounding like thunder. I knew I was making a deal with the devil. But as long as I could send Lucas and Victoria to hell, I was willing to fall into the abyss. For the next two weeks, I displayed astonishing acting skills. Every day I made soup for Lucas, showed concern about his “debt” progress, and even proactively contacted the evaluation agency, appearing eager to mortgage the manor. Lucas believed me completely and became increasingly gentle and considerate toward me, as if we’d returned to our honeymoon phase. Until that afternoon when I went back to our former marital home to retrieve some forgotten documents. Just as I unlocked the door with my fingerprint, I heard flirtatious laughter coming from the living room. “Dorothy, this sofa set is too dark. I want to change it to cream white. And those floor-to-ceiling window

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The day I miscarried and hemorrhaged, my parents rushed to the hospital through heavy rain and got into a car accident on the way. I lay on the operating table and signed their surgery consent forms with blood-stained hands. I couldn’t save the baby. I couldn’t save my parents either. The man whose calls I couldn’t get through posted a celebratory Instagram post. 【Congratulations to Mia’s dog for working hard all night and finally becoming a mother.】 I weakly liked the post, and he immediately sent me a text message. “Unlike it.” I sent him my hospital location. “Come to the hospital. I need to talk to you in person.” “I have something important to do, I can’t make it! Get your parents to go with you for the prenatal checkup. They’re free anyway.” “Your so-called important matter is delivering puppies for her dog?” “How did you turn into such a jealous woman just from being pregnant? You’re even jealous of a dog?” I had no strength left to argue with him. Since he wouldn’t come, he could talk to my lawyer instead.

By the time I finished handling my parents’ funeral arrangements, it was already the next evening. I dragged my exhausted body through the door. The carefully tidied house had become a complete mess. Jason was rummaging through things with his head down, carelessly tossing items onto the floor. Like he was used to it, confident that someone would always clean up after him. Hearing the door, he didn’t even look up, his tone tinged with dissatisfaction. “Where have you been all day on the weekend? I even had to order takeout for lunch.” I froze. So he didn’t come home last night either. These past two years, he’d always been like this. When Mia’s apartment light broke, he could get up in the middle of the night to fix it for her. But he’d forget to lock our door properly, letting a drunk stranger stumble in and giving me nightmares for an entire month. When Mia’s dog was about to give birth, he could refuse to accompany me to my prenatal checkup. But he’d take a week off work to stay with her, even though that was supposed to be the vet’s job. Getting no response, Jason finally looked at me, surprise flooding his eyes. “Your face is so pale. Is the baby giving you trouble again?” I stepped back, avoiding his hand reaching toward my abdomen, my tone flat. “I called you seventy-six times yesterday. Why didn’t you answer?” Jason’s hand hung in midair. He frowned at my words. “Hermione, are you interrogating me?” “Mia and I are childhood friends. Her dog Snowball is different from the other pets in her shop—she’s raised it since it was small. They have a deep bond.” “Snowball was giving birth and Mia was worried sick. I had to help with the delivery. At such a critical moment of life and death, how could I have time to answer your pointless calls?” “It’s just a prenatal checkup. Plenty of pregnant women go by themselves. At worst, you had your parents. They’re free anyway. What difference does it make if I’m not there?” Looking at his self-righteous expression. I really wanted to ask—what about my parents? That car accident was terrible. Dad had no vital signs by the time he reached the hospital. Mom was rushed into surgery for emergency treatment, but her injuries were severe and complex. Jason’s colleague said that only if Jason performed the surgery himself would there be any chance of saving her. He said he was too busy to answer my calls, yet when I liked that Instagram post, he immediately ordered me to unlike it. Afraid Mia might read too much into it. “Are you really just childhood friends?” “But Jason, I saw you kiss her.” At the very restaurant where he’d proposed to me. Even sitting in the exact same seats. In my mental haze, I didn’t see the motorcycle speeding toward me. Although the driver braked in time, the tiny life inside me that was barely three months old was still lost.

Panic flashed through Jason’s usually calm eyes. “Mia was too worried about Snowball, so I took her out to relax. She had a few too many drinks and…” His tone softened slightly. “Alright, let’s not talk about this. Next checkup, I’ll definitely go with you.” Here we go again. Using a lame excuse to brush me off, then offering a consolation prize, as if nothing had happened. But Jason, you’ll never need to accompany me to another prenatal checkup. “No need. Let’s get divorced.” Jason froze, then spoke angrily, humiliated. “Hermione, do all you journalists like to blow things out of proportion? I told you it was an accident. Is this really necessary?” “Besides, you’re just doing odd jobs in the TV station’s logistics department now. You’re almost thirty, pregnant, and other than me, who else would want you?” “I work myself to the bone at the hospital every day for this family, not to come home to your unreasonable tantrums!” He stormed toward the door. As he passed the entrance, he suddenly noticed a document peeking out of my bag. The words “Death Certificate” were clearly visible. Jason turned back, confused. “Who died?” Jason was about to pull it out for a closer look. But his phone suddenly rang. Mia’s helpless, choked voice came through. “Jason, one of the puppies seems to be choking on milk, and I still have customers in the shop. I’m completely overwhelmed.” “It’s not going to die, is it? I’m so scared…” Jason’s face filled with concern. “Don’t cry. I’ll be right there.” With that, he rushed off without looking back. He even forgot to lock his study, which he normally never let me enter. As if possessed, I walked in, only to be stabbed in the eyes by what was under the desk. That year, I was the station’s most promising new reporter, assigned to interview the old director. But the old man was arrogant and turned me away. After several days of working overtime, I had low blood sugar and fainted in the garden. Jason was the one who saved me. He said the old director was stubborn and wouldn’t change his mind once it was made up. I hung my head in disappointment. The next second, an orange candy was pushed into my mouth. Jason winked at me playfully. “But I admire people who work hard, so interview me instead.” Later I learned he was the city’s youngest medical professor. So many people wanted to interview this genius heartthrob of the medical world but couldn’t, yet he made an exception for me alone. That’s how Jason and I became connected. Later, we each got busier and busier. Jason looked at me with difficulty. “Hermione, I know becoming a top reporter is your dream.” “But the elders in our family need someone to care for them. Could you resign? I promise I’ll treat you well for the rest of my life.” And I knew equally well that becoming an outstanding doctor was his dream too. So I compromised. I didn’t resign, but transferred to the relaxed logistics department. At least that way I could stay close to the work I loved. On many sleepless nights, I’d trace my reporter’s badge under the lamp. Every time Jason caught me, he’d feel incredibly guilty and promise over and over that he’d treat me well. But now, that reporter’s badge I treasured so much was being used by him to level a table leg. I used Mia’s birthday to open his safe. On top was a thick kraft paper envelope. Inside were all kinds of photos of the two of them together. Hugging, kissing, walking hand in hand on the beach. There were also receipts for him buying Mia a house, funding her business startup, paying for renovations. Even though the shop lost money every month, he kept subsidizing her.

The words on the envelope’s cover were in Jason’s handwriting. “Forever willing to forge ahead through thorns for your dreams.” I stared at those words for a very long time. My mind flashed through these five years of caring for his parents, doing laundry and cooking, cleaning the house. I thought of the envy and heartache I felt watching my former colleagues full of passion, working overtime preparing interview manuscripts. Suddenly I laughed out loud. So he did know how to protect someone’s dreams after all. I photographed everything and put it back in place, finally making my decision. “Hello, Ms. Kelly. I heard the station is selecting someone to go to Central Asia as a war correspondent, and no one has signed up yet.” “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go.” Kelly paused, then said happily. “Great! I thought it was such a shame when you applied to transfer to logistics. This is a rare opportunity. It might be a bit dangerous, but your resume will be completely different when you return.” “Prepare yourself well then. You’ll be leaving in the next few days.” Hanging up the phone, I started packing. There was nothing left in this house that I cared about. Except for the sweater Mom had knitted for me before she died—I had to take that. She’d knitted me plenty of clothes when I was young, but later I grew up and Mom grew old, her eyesight not what it used to be. I didn’t want her to strain herself, so I told her not to knit anymore. After I got pregnant, I suddenly became very sensitive to cold. Mom secretly knitted me a sweater anyway. Her eyes were red from straining them, but she waved it off casually. “Homemade ones are warmer. I picked out good yarn.” “You care about the child in your belly, and I care about my child too.” I was both touched and heartbroken. I’d never brought myself to wear it. But now, that sweater was gone. Remembering the scene when I came home, I was about to call Jason to ask. But then I saw Mia had posted on Instagram. “Hehe, I just mentioned the babies were cold since they were just born, and someone brought over sweaters~ Thanks on behalf of the babies, Daddy~ Of course, this mommy’s alteration skills aren’t bad either, if I do say so myself.” So Jason had gone to celebrate those puppies’ birth with her. In the picture, they had their heads together, bodies pressed close. Each held three puppies in their arms. And I recognized at a glance. The ‘dog clothes’ those puppies wore were altered from the sweater Mom had knitted for me. When I pushed open the pet shop’s glass door, I happened to catch Jason and Mia eating cake with the same spoon. Jason had severe germophobia. At home, his dishes had to be disinfected and stored separately, and serving utensils had to be used when sharing food. Once, after cleaning the house all day, I was exhausted and parched, so I drank from his cup. He didn’t say anything at the time, but that night, the cup appeared in the trash. Afterward, Jason explained to me that it was an occupational habit from working at the hospital. Turns out it depends on the person. Seeing me, Mia raised an eyebrow and smiled sarcastically. “Hermione’s here? Jason and I have never drawn boundaries since childhood—I hope you don’t mind.” “Jason, what did I tell you? There’s no way she’d divorce you.” “After all, a woman who failed in her career and can only rely on handouts from her husband—without you, how would she support her child and take care of her parents? She followed you all the way here. She’s really clingy.” “Sigh, compared to her, I’m just too thin-skinned. Guess I’ll just have to keep being a strong independent woman~” Jason affectionately pinched her nose. “Fine, you’re the smartest, okay? You’ve been clever since childhood.” Then he looked at me, as if forgiving a child who didn’t know any better.

“Alright, Hermione. Since you came to make peace, I’ll pretend I never heard about the divorce.” “Go home and clean up the house first. These puppies were just born and their condition is unstable. I need to stay with Mia for a few more days to observe them.” Listening to these two people talk, I found it laughable. One being a mistress so righteously. One whitewashing his affair so sanctimoniously. I ignored Jason and smiled sarcastically. “Since Miss Mia is so capable, stealing another woman’s man is one thing, but why did you conspire with my husband to steal my clothes?” “Dare I ask what kind of ‘strong woman’ you are? The mistress kind?” Several female customers who were selecting pet supplies looked at Mia in surprise. “So this handsome guy isn’t your boyfriend? But you were using the same spoon… that’s not very appropriate, is it?” “Yeah, I just complimented you two on being a good match and you didn’t deny it. Turns out he has a wife?” Mia’s face flushed red as she was cornered. Seeing her like this, the women curled their lips in disdain, put down the items they’d already selected, and hurried out. Mia’s eyes reddened as she complained to Jason pitifully. “Jason, is Hermione deliberately here to sabotage my business?” “I just thought that sweater was warm and soft, perfect for the puppies. She’s already spent so much of your money—what clothes doesn’t she have? Why does she have to slander me like this?” “Those were all my regular customers. How will they see me now? Can I even keep doing business?” Jason tenderly wiped her tears, then turned to glare at me angrily. “Hermione, I’m the one who took the clothes. Why are you taking it out on Mia? It’s not like it’s worth that much money. When did you become so petty?” “You’ll gain weight later in your pregnancy anyway and won’t be able to wear it. Just have your mom knit you another one.” “It’s not like it’s made by some international master craftsman. Why are you treating it like it’s so precious?!” Looking at his condescending expression and the disdain in his eyes. I couldn’t help but slap him across the face, roaring. “Yes, what my mother made IS precious! Because she can never knit me clothes again!” “While you two were being all lovey-dovey, and you’d rather accompany her dog through labor than answer my calls for help, my parents died!” Jason’s eyes flew wide open. He instinctively released Mia. “What did you say? How could…” Before he could finish, Mia suddenly shoved me hard. “How dare you hit someone?!” “It’s just a crappy sweater! Who cares? I’ll give it back to you!” She stripped the clothes off the puppies and viciously threw them into a litter box the employee was about to take out. “Saying your parents died—I just saw your uncle and aunt at the supermarket this morning!” “I just can’t stand women like you who use pregnancy to lie and manipulate, making scenes and doing everything possible to control your husband. You’re a parasite, a disgrace to women everywhere!” The litter box hadn’t been cleaned yet. The clumped feces stuck to the sweater, giving off a foul smell. Mom’s love had ultimately been ruined beyond recognition. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know the boss would…” The employee was frightened by my bloodshot eyes, looking completely helpless. Anger and hatred burned my internal organs. I turned toward the instigator and raised my hand high. But before my palm could land on Mia’s face. Jason’s slap struck me. It made a crisp sound in the quiet shop.

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I’m a top-tier Hollywood star, the youngest Oscar-winning actress, and the apple of the eye of the Fletcher family’s billionaire heir. He not only opened a talent agency specifically to manage me alone, but even humbled himself to become my assistant out of love. The entire entertainment industry knows that crossing me means crossing the Fletcher family. However, no one expected that in the latest S-tier production film, my role as the female lead that was already a done deal would be stolen by an unknown D-list actress. People placed bets overnight on how long it would take for Charles Fletcher to blacklist that actress named Nia across the entire internet. But instead, what came was an official announcement from Fletcher Family Media: [Welcome our company’s second signed artist, Nia] [In the future, Miss Nia will walk hand in hand with the Fletcher Group.] The entire industry was shaken, mocking me for falling out of favor, forcing a dignified Oscar winner to play second fiddle to a newcomer. On set, watching Nia’s terrible acting, I coldly gave her a stage slap according to the script, but Nia fell to the ground in tears, accusing me of using my position to settle personal scores. Charles ordered people to pin me to the ground, and had the crew add a hundred slapping scenes for me. By the end, I had been slapped until my right ear went deaf, my face swollen almost beyond recognition.

By the fiftieth scene, my right cheek was swollen high, looking terrifyingly grotesque. Blood kept flowing from my nose and mouth, dripping onto my clothes and the ground. The director’s voice trembled slightly, “Mr. Fletcher, shouldn’t we stop here?” “If we keep going and something happens…” “What’s the rush?” Charles curved his lips, he walked over, slowly crouched in front of me, lifted my chin with his hand, and gently wiped the bloody filth from my face, “Bella, I know you’re angry with me for replacing you as the female lead.” “But now everyone knows that Nia is the second person the Fletcher family wants to promote. You deliberately targeting her on set will make me look bad.” “Be good, apologize to Nia, and this will all be over.” I raised my head with difficulty, looking into Charles’s eyes, “I did nothing wrong.” “That scene just now, I stage-slapped her. I didn’t even touch her.” Nia immediately covered her face and started crying, “Since Miss Bella says it was a stage slap, then it was a stage slap.” “I understand, I’m just a newcomer, Miss Bella is an Oscar winner. I deserve to endure some grievances…” “Charles, please don’t make things difficult for Miss Bella. She’s just being professional, she definitely didn’t mean to target me.” I stared at her tear-stained face, couldn’t help but want to laugh. During the scene earlier, she couldn’t even cry, but now she was acting so convincingly. Charles frowned, “Unrepentant. Do you really think you’re some high and mighty Oscar winner?” His tone turned cold, “I could make the first one, I can make a second one too.” He looked at me, “Nia says you’re professional. Since you’re so professional, give the whole crew a demonstration.” “The remaining fifty scenes, continue.” My breathing caught, my heart felt like it was being squeezed tight. Back when I was still a small-time actress, when I accidentally scraped my skin during wire work, Charles was so distressed, warning the director that if I got hurt again, he’d dismantle the entire set. Now, because of one baseless provocation, he wanted me to endure a full hundred slaps. The slaps fell again, a heavy metallic taste filled my mouth. I looked toward Charles. His expression was indifferent, like he was watching a play that had nothing to do with him. By the eightieth scene, there wasn’t a patch of unmarked skin left on my face. “Baby, still won’t admit your mistake?” Charles looked at me with amusement. I pulled at the corner of my mouth, but said nothing. Charles’s eyes darkened further, “Continue.” At the hundredth scene, Charles called for a stop, and walked up himself. He raised his hand high. That hand had once held mine, wiped away my tears, and traced my features over and over again in the deep of night. “Baby, this last scene is to teach you that I don’t like women who make their own decisions.” The force of his palm struck heavily across my face. My right ear rang with a loud buzz, and then I couldn’t hear anything at all. My consciousness gradually blurred. Someone grabbed my hair and lifted my face. The camera focused on my wretched appearance. Charles’s indifferent voice came through, “Post this video online as my debut gift to Nia.” “What about Miss Bella… should we deal with her?” Charles’s gaze swept over coldly, and the person hurriedly lowered their head. “Stop trying to guess what I’m thinking. Today is just to teach her a lesson, so she doesn’t think she can do whatever she wants just because I spoil her.” “However, Bella will still be the Fletcher family’s only lady.” “Oh, and find the best medicine. I don’t want scars left on that face.” Hearing this, I laughed coldly. Then my consciousness completely fell into darkness.

When I woke up again, I was already lying in bed. My face felt cool, clearly medicine had been applied. I looked around, recognizing this as the luxury apartment Charles had bought for me near the set to make filming more convenient. My phone kept buzzing beside me. As soon as I opened it, messages flooded in like a tidal wave. Number one on trending: [Bella Acts Like a Diva on Set and Gets Taught a Lesson] [Bella Slaps Newcomer] [Nia Breaks Down in Tears on Scene] I clicked on the video. It was the scene where I stage-slapped Nia. Edited to remove the beginning and end, only showing the one second where my hand moved toward her face. Then it cut to me being pinned to the ground, slapped a full hundred times. The caption read: [Oscar winner Bella bullies newcomer on set, gets harshly punished by righteous people] The comment section had already broken twenty thousand. “Serves her right, I’ve heard she has a terrible temper.” “What’s so great about being an Oscar winner? Bullying newcomers is shameful.” “I heard she slept her way to the top. She’s been throwing her weight around, and now she’s hit an iron plate.” “Bully girl, ugly freak, get out of the entertainment industry!” I scrolled through one comment after another. An overwhelming wave of hate comments. Normally, Fletcher family legal would have stepped in by now, but now there was only silence. I smiled self-mockingly. At 3 AM, another trending topic shot to the top. #Fletcher Family Media Supports Nia# I clicked in. It was an official statement from Fletcher Family Media, a still of Nia from the show, with only one line of text: “Pearls should not be covered in dust.” Immediately after, Charles’s personal account liked and reposted this statement. The comment section erupted again. “Oh my god, Mr. Fletcher personally got involved. Has Bella completely fallen out of favor?” “It’s about time she was replaced. I’m sick of looking at Bella’s old face.” “Finally someone has noticed our wonderful Nia!” I smiled bitterly. Pearls covered in dust… When Charles and I were at our best, he withstood enormous pressure from his family, insisting that his company would only sign me. He always stayed by my side. He once held my hand, his eyes determined, “Bella, pearls are never covered in dust. I will definitely take you to the top.” I didn’t disappoint his expectations either. I won three major Best Actress awards in one sweep, made his company incredibly profitable, proving his judgment was right. Now, he used those same words on another woman. Charles, you really are sparing no effort to prove that you’re the one in control of this relationship… Just then, someone pushed the door open. Charles walked in carrying a bowl of hot food, “Bella, you’re awake?” I said nothing. He sat down beside me, coaxing like one would an unreasonable child, “I made you some food. The doctor said you need to take good care of your face. I’ve canceled all your upcoming schedules.” “Be good, open your mouth.” His movements were gentle, looking at me affectionately, as if he were a completely different person from the man who had arrogantly slapped me. Too bad I could smell on him the exact same perfume that Nia wore. I knocked the food out of his hands, “Charles, are you done with your act?” “Don’t touch me with your dirty hands that have touched someone else!” Charles was caught off guard and burned his hand. The smile faded from his face, “Bella, you’re too uptight.” “Haven’t I been with you long enough? Look around the industry—who stays faithful to one woman?” His tone softened as he reached out to touch my face, “Stop being angry. I just think the girl is kind of interesting, just playing around. She’s no threat to you.” Just playing around. Those words were like a knife stabbing deep into my heart. I turned my head away from his hand, “Get out.” Charles’s hand hung in mid-air, his eyes turning cold. “Bella, have I spoiled you too much? Do you really dare to order me around like an assistant?” He stood up, “Fine, I’m giving you a way out and you won’t take it. I’ll wait for you to come crying and begging me later.” Watching Charles’s retreating back, my heart suddenly felt empty, aching faintly. After a long while, I reached up to wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes, took out my phone, and scrolled to a number. The call connected. “Mr. Simon Brandt, I agree to the arranged marriage with you.”

On the other end of the phone, Simon’s cool voice came through, “Miss Bella, you’ve made up your mind?” “Yes, I’ve decided.” “Alright, confirm the time and I’ll come to Los Angeles to pick you up.” Inexplicably, I actually detected a hint of excitement in Simon’s voice. Putting down my phone, my thoughts drifted back three years. I’m the only daughter of the Anthony family in Manhattan, New York. My family arranged a marriage alliance with the Brandt family to help me better inherit the Anthony family in the future. I didn’t want to marry a stranger, even though I knew he was of good character, one of the rare clean-living men in high society circles. I came to Hollywood in Los Angeles alone to break into the entertainment industry. But without my family’s support, I couldn’t move an inch in the entertainment world. I could only do bit parts, playing extras without even any lines. During one audition, I was almost taken advantage of. It was Charles who saved me. He not only helped send the producer who harassed me to prison, but also helped me land the first role of my life, though it was just a supporting role. When Charles decided to personally become my assistant, it shocked the entire industry. Everyone speculated he was just acting on a whim, that he’d get bored and move on. But he persisted for three years. My food, clothing, housing, and transportation were all his responsibility. All endorsements and film contracts were personally selected by him and presented to me. Every time I joined a crew, he would push aside all other matters to stay by my side wholeheartedly. Originally, I planned to finish filming this movie, then come clean to Charles about my identity. But I never expected this to happen… Since I’d decided to go home for the arranged marriage, I decided to withdraw from the entertainment industry. I opened my laptop and typed out my retirement statement. But I hadn’t sent it yet. I wanted to finish filming one last movie before leaving. The redness and swelling on my face hadn’t completely subsided yet. As soon as I stepped onto the set, everyone’s eyes swept over to me. There was mockery, pity, and more than anything, schadenfreude. I lowered my head and quickened my pace toward the makeup room. “Miss Bella.” I stopped. A crew member blocked my way, wearing a professionally polite fake smile. “That makeup room, Mr. Fletcher has instructed that it’s for Miss Nia from now on.” He gestured to the side, “Miss Bella, you can use that one over there.” I followed where he was pointing. Next to a pile of miscellaneous items at the far end, a broken door stood half-open. Inside were dusty prop boxes and discarded light stands. I said nothing in the end and walked in. But I waited a long time. The time for my next scene was approaching, but my makeup artist still hadn’t arrived. I got up to find someone, only to see my makeup artist standing next to Nia, touching up her makeup. I froze. Only then did Nia seem to remember something, covering her mouth as she giggled, “Oops, I forgot to tell Miss Bella.” “Charles gave me your makeup artist too. From now on, she’s my personal makeup artist.” “He said my face is precious and needs the best makeup artist and the best cosmetics.” She tilted her head and glanced to the side. Immediately someone threw several paper boxes at my feet, spilling out cheap foundation and eyeshadow palettes. “Charles also said Miss Bella is getting on in years, so just make do with whatever.” Nia looked at me with eyes full of malice. I looked down at the pile of items. Charles knew I had sensitive skin and could only use specific cosmetics. He used to have people test the ingredients even if I switched brands. I stood up and walked toward the studio. “Miss Bella, you haven’t put on makeup yet!” I didn’t look back, only said coldly, “I’m not doing it.” Immediately people started slandering me. “Acting like such a diva.” “Still being difficult even now. No wonder Charles dumped her.” But Nia’s smile remained unchanged. “It’s fine. Once she sees the new script, she won’t be so arrogant anymore.” I walked into the studio. The next scene was supposed to be between me and the male lead. I calmed myself and went through the script, but the actor playing the male lead never showed up. I was about to find someone to ask when I saw the director walking toward me furiously. “Bella!” He grabbed my hand and dragged me outside. “What are you doing slacking off here? We’ve been calling you forever. Are you deaf?!” “Director, isn’t the next scene supposed to be between me and the male lead?” He waved his hand impatiently, “All those scenes have been cut.” “Your next scene,” “is a drowning scene.”

I stood there stunned. When I was young, I accidentally fell into water and nearly drowned. Ever since, I’ve been terrified of water. Once water rises above my chest, I start having heart palpitations. After Charles learned about this, every contract he signed for me included the same clause: prohibiting any form of drowning scenes. “Is there a mistake?” My voice was tight. “This scene isn’t in my script.” The director rolled his eyes. “This was specially added for you by Miss Nia.” “She said she was worried you’d feel you didn’t have enough scenes and feel unbalanced, so she kindly added some screen time for you.” “Charles knows about it too.” Charles… My heart sank to the bottom. This was the largest indoor pool at the studio. I stood by the pool’s edge, my whole body already soaked through. “Cut!” The director shouted. “No good. Bella, that expression just now was wrong. Too fake. Do it again.” I was pushed into the water again. “Cut! Your struggling is too exaggerated. Who drowns like that? Again.” Pushed down again. Climbed up again. “Cut! Not enough emotion. Your eyes need to show despair!” “Cut! Your body is too stiff. Again.” I hung on the pool’s edge, soaking wet, hair plastered to my face, gasping for breath. “Maybe the pool isn’t deep enough, that’s why Miss Bella can’t make it look real.” Nia tilted her head, suggesting innocently, “Why don’t we switch to the deep end? That way we can capture that desperate feeling of drowning.” My heart dropped. “I’m not going to the deep end!” But no one listened to me. Two hands reached from behind, gripping my arms on either side. I struggled desperately as my body was dragged forward, until below me was an unfathomably deep blackness. Nia walked up behind me. She leaned close to my ear, her voice very low, “Bella, Charles is mine. Go die.” She pushed hard. My body fell backward. In that moment the world flipped before my eyes. Water surged toward me from all directions. My body was sinking. Water pressed against my lungs from every side. I kept my eyes open, watching the water’s surface grow farther and farther away. My consciousness began to scatter. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier, my body lighter and lighter. Just as I was about to close my eyes, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me out of the water. I struggled to open my eyes and saw the person before me. I was dazed. “…Charles.” “Hahahaha did you guys see how she looked just now?” “Like a drowned rat, so funny.” “And she’s supposed to be an Oscar winner? Can’t even do a simple drowning scene.” Nia clung to Charles’s arm, laughing so hard she was bent over. “Charles, look how scared she was. Your idea was so fun.” Charles laughed too. I stared at him blankly, suddenly feeling cold all over. Charles approached me. “See that? Without me promoting you, you’re nothing.” “In this industry, anyone can step on you.” He crouched down, leaning close to my face, his manner intimate. “As long as you admit your mistake, I can act like none of this ever happened. You’ll still be Bella, still the Oscar winner everyone adores.” He was waiting for me to bow my head. Nia also walked over, opening her mouth falsely, “Miss Bella, I’m not trying to break you and Charles up. I’m here to join this family.” “Don’t be hostile toward me.” I lifted my head and spat right in both their faces. Nia screamed. Charles was furious. “Bella, have you lost your mind!” He turned and left with Nia. That evening, the production’s official account posted a statement. “Actress Bella refuses to follow production management, repeatedly acts like a diva, seriously affecting filming progress. After deliberation, the production has decided to immediately terminate cooperation with Bella. All filmed content will be deleted.” Attached was an image of the termination letter from the production, stamped with a red seal. Immediately after, Fletcher Family Media reposted this statement. “Resist problematic artists. No one is above the rules.” I instantly became a pariah everyone wanted to attack. All endorsements and film contracts were terminated. While Nia, stepping on my corpse, gained countless fans and a good reputation. On my phone, I received a text from Charles. [As long as you beg me, I can suppress all the negative public opinion against you.] I knew Charles was forcing my hand. He was betting that without him, I had no way out. I stared at the retirement statement I’d already drafted on the screen. My finger hovered over the send button. 3, 2, 1. I pressed it. Within seconds, the comment count began to skyrocket. One hundred, one thousand, a hundred thousand, ten million…

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