Category: English

“Thank you, Ms. Hart. Your Android is currently undergoing memory programming. It will be delivered to you in one week.” “Very good, thank you.” Elena Hart’s voice was flat and emotionless. After hanging up the phone, she collapsed onto the sofa, staring blankly ahead. In seven days, she would completely leave Nathan Cole behind, replacing herself with that Android. The Android was her perfect copy, identical down to the finest detail, but with slight personality adjustments—sweet, compliant, the kind of woman who would never cause any ripples. Nathan would probably love that kind of woman, wouldn’t he? A sharp buzz broke the silence as the front door clicked open. Nathan stumbled in, his steps unsteady. The winter night’s chill still clung to him, snowflakes dotting his shoulders, melting into tiny droplets that fell as he crossed the threshold. He dragged himself to the sofa and flopped down, sprawling out as if the place belonged to him alone. The pungent smell of cologne mixed with the stale scent of whiskey invaded Elena’s nose. She lowered her eyelids. Of course, he’d been with that woman again tonight. These days, that woman’s perfume always followed him home. No surprise there. “Get me some coffee,” Nathan mumbled, flinging an arm over his eyes, his tone laced with irritation. In the past, on nights like this when he went out “networking,” Elena would have prepared a pot of coffee in advance, ensuring he’d be comfortable no matter how late he returned. But tonight, she didn’t move. She sat there, motionless, as if his words hadn’t reached her ears. Seeing no response, Nathan lifted his arm and glared at her sideways. “Are you deaf or something? I said—” “I heard you,” Elena cut him off, her clear gaze locking directly with his. “If you want coffee, get it yourself. I’m going to bed.” She stood up and walked toward the bedroom without looking back. “Elena! What’s wrong with you now?” Nathan jumped up and grabbed her wrist before she could walk away. “Is this because I didn’t go to the hospital with you today? It was just a routine checkup, not some life-or-death situation. You were fine on your own! Chloe had a burst pipe at her place, and she was terrified, crying her eyes out! She’s my friend and all alone in this city. What was I supposed to do, just abandon her? Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” His words tumbled out all at once, the perfume on him making Elena dizzy. Her heart pounded in her chest. “She cried over a burst pipe?” Elena’s voice was soft but dripping with sarcasm. “Wow, she’s really tough, isn’t she?” She tilted her head slightly, her tone eerily calm. “Remember those home invasions a few months ago? When people were getting robbed in the middle of the night? I was terrified. I begged you to come home early. What did you say?” Nathan narrowed his eyes, either too drunk to remember or pretending not to. Elena’s voice remained steady, even slightly mocking, but her words concealed a sharp edge. “You said, ‘Are you a child? Why are you so paranoid? I’m not a cop—what could I even do if I were there?’” Nathan’s face twitched, and he stammered, “This is a gated community, Elena. Top-notch security. Nothing’s going to happen here.”

“Just some trash,” Elena said dismissively. What else could you call things you no longer needed? Nathan sighed in relief. When he drove into the gated community, he had seen thick black smoke rising from a distance, his heart racing as images of their house on fire flashed through his mind. He had floored the gas pedal to get back. “Don’t burn things, it’s too dangerous,” he said, eyeing the cardboard boxes stacked by the front door. “More trash?” Elena glanced at the boxes, her lips pressed into a thin line. Those were her packed belongings ready to go. Just then, a delivery person walked up. “Ms. Hart? Do you have items for pickup?” Elena nodded toward the boxes. “Yes, those. Take all of them.” Nathan tensed, grabbing her wrist abruptly, his voice tight. “You’re moving out?” Elena studied his anxious expression, feeling confused. She wondered why he cared so much. He had made it clear he was tired of her. Shouldn’t he be happy to see her leave? Not wanting to start any arguments before her departure, she lied to brush it off: “No, just clearing out some things to donate.” Nathan’s shoulders relaxed as he released her wrist and took her hand instead. “Okay. Whatever you need, I’ll buy it for you later.” Elena smiled faintly. “Later,” she thought. “We don’t have a ‘later’ anymore.” He must have sensed her mood, perhaps attributing it to last night’s argument. For once, he softened his tone, almost tenderly. “Look, about Chloe—she just had a nightmare last night, so I checked on her, that’s all. You have nothing to worry about. She’s just a friend, nothing more.” Elena almost laughed. Her gaze turned cold as she countered, “You don’t think spending the night at a single woman’s place looks bad, even if ‘nothing happened’? Don’t you see how terrible that looks?” Nathan’s face darkened. “That’s just your mind twisting things! Nothing like that happened!” Elena let out a dry laugh and shook her head. What was the point of arguing with someone who would never admit they were wrong? A waste of breath. Her silence made Nathan uneasy, and he stubbornly continued, “Anyway, Chloe and I are just friends. It’s not what you think.” “Right,” Elena thought. “If ‘just friends’ includes holding hands, hugging, and possibly kissing, then the bar for ‘friendship’ is ridiculously low.” She didn’t bother arguing anymore. “Whatever.” “By the way,” Nathan changed the subject, “there’s a party tonight. Come with me.” “I have other plans—” Elena began, but he cut her off. He pulled out a shopping bag from his car and handed it to her. “Don’t be like that. I already told them I’d bring you. I bought you a dress.” Elena glanced at the logo on the bag—one of her favorite brands, not cheap. In college, they couldn’t afford such things. She remembered standing outside a store window once, staring at a dress she loved but couldn’t have. Nathan had worked three jobs to save up for it, only to find it sold out. He searched the entire city but couldn’t find it. It was the first time she’d seen him cry. With tears streaming down his face, he promised he would work hard, make lots of money, so she would never have to long for things she couldn’t have. He had worked hard. He had made lots of money. But somewhere along the way, he started buying dresses for someone else. Elena sighed, the memory bittersweet. She took the bag. Fine, she would go to the party. One last time, for old times’ sake.

Elena woke up to the sharp smell of disinfectant stinging her nostrils, that acrid scent permeating the air. Gradually, memories of the crash came flooding back like a tide—that moment before everything went dark. “Elena! You’re awake!” Nathan rushed into the hospital room, holding a thermos. “How are you feeling? Dizzy? The doctor said it’s just minor injuries, you’ll be fine after a few days of rest.” He set down the thermos and hugged her tightly. “Thank God you’re okay…” Elena felt his body trembling slightly and noticed tears glistening in his eyes. But she remained unmoved, even finding it somewhat ridiculous. In that life-or-death moment, he had pushed her away to protect Chloe. Didn’t that say everything? If she had died, he and Chloe could be together without any complications. Perfect, right? So why pretend to be so devoted now? She pushed his arms away, her face expressionless, showing no emotional response. Nathan caught the mockery in her eyes, hesitated, then hurriedly explained, “Don’t be angry, please? I panicked and got you two mixed up. Your dresses looked too similar. I was trying to save you…” Elena closed her eyes, unwilling to say another word to him. She had been wearing a cream-colored dress, while Chloe wore bright red. Mixed up? Please. And before the crash, she clearly heard him call out “Chloe”—not her name. “Come on, Nathan,” she thought, “at least make your lies somewhat believable.” “I’m tired,” she turned her head away, “please leave.” She kept her eyes closed, refusing to open them. If she did, tears would flow, and she absolutely wouldn’t cry in front of him. For the next three days, Nathan stayed at the hospital—whether out of guilt or half-hearted atonement, she didn’t care. He couldn’t move her at all because she knew his heart wasn’t there anymore. He couldn’t put down his phone, either typing away on the screen or reacting to messages—frowning, smiling, immersed in his own world. On the day of her discharge, Nathan drove her back to their gated community. As soon as Elena got out of the car, his phone made a “ding” sound. He glanced at it, his expression tightening. “Elena, there’s an emergency at the company. I need to go back. You should rest inside, I’ll be back tonight.” Before she could answer, he jumped back into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and the car sped out of the driveway. Elena stared at the car until it disappeared from sight, then let out a bitter laugh. Not “the company.” That “ding” was Chloe’s special ringtone. She had heard it over and over these three days, like an annoying song looping in her head. The fact that he could lie to her so casually, and so poorly, was almost impressive. Instead of resting, Elena took action. She liquidated all her personal assets, then went to the mall to return her engagement ring. Since she was leaving for good, there was no point in keeping it. She still remembered when they bought that ring. Nathan’s company had been in trouble then, with broken cash flow. She had invested all her savings to help him, even selling the jewelry her mother had left her to keep things afloat. When Nathan found out, he held her tight, saying she was the best thing in his life. After the company turned profitable, the first thing he did was buy this ring. In front of friends and family, he got down on one knee and proposed, promising her forever. Those words still echoed in her mind. But just a few years later, those vows were nothing but noise, easily forgotten, like yesterday’s old news.

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“Haven, are you sure you want to marry me on the seventh?” “I’m sure.” “Good. On the seventh, I’ll come to marry you as soon as I finish my business in New Zealand.” After hanging up the phone, Haven Edwards tugged slightly at the corner of her mouth, a complex emotion washing over her as if from another lifetime. If someone had told her before that she would choose to marry a person she’d known for less than half a year, she would have thought it an utterly ridiculous joke. Because everyone knew that her greatest wish in life was to marry her best friend, Wyatt Taylor, whom she had loved for twelve years. Yet now, she was about to let go of these feelings she had held onto for twelve years and marry another man instead. After hanging up, Haven collapsed onto the sofa. At the same time, the TV was broadcasting an interview with Wyatt, the CEO of Taylor Group. On screen, Wyatt wore a tailored suit, handsome and dignified. His charismatic eyes always made people mistake him for being deeply affectionate. The reporter teasingly said, “Mr. Taylor, we’ve finished our questions about Taylor Group’s business plans. May I ask a few personal questions? You’re not only handsome and wealthy, but also the perfect boyfriend in many women’s eyes. I’d like to ask a question on their behalf.” Wyatt nodded politely. “Please go ahead.” The reporter asked, “I heard that you recently purchased a villa at Gold Waterfront and bought a ten-carat blue diamond that symbolizes ‘love you forever.’ Does this mean your wedding is approaching?” As soon as the words were spoken, the entire audience held their breath waiting for Wyatt’s answer. Without any hesitation, Wyatt replied, “Yes, there’s a girl who has dedicated her youth to me. I promised her I would marry her before she turned thirty. Seven days from now is her thirtieth birthday, and I don’t want to make her wait any longer.” His firm statement immediately caused a sensation, quickly climbing to the top of trending searches. Topics related to Wyatt’s marriage like “Wyatt’s public confession on the show” and “Wyatt getting married in seven days” ranked high on the trending list. When news of Wyatt’s upcoming marriage spread, Haven’s former friends sent messages congratulating her on finally getting her wish. After all, she had once half-jokingly told Wyatt, “I’ll only wait for you until I’m thirty. If you still haven’t married me by then, I won’t wait anymore.” However, what no one knew was that Haven wasn’t the person Wyatt intended to marry. Haven’s parents and Wyatt’s parents were neighbors. They had grown up together, and she had loved him for exactly twelve years. How deep was Haven’s love for Wyatt? After high school graduation, because of one comment from Wyatt, she gave up her scholarship to Columbia University to accompany him to his preferred New York University. After graduation, to support Wyatt’s startup, she again sacrificed a job offering an annual salary of $300,000 to help him build his business from scratch. She had invested twelve years of her youth in Wyatt, always believing that true love could overcome all difficulties. However, just half a month ago, she discovered that the villa Wyatt had purchased and the blue diamond he had bought at auction were all given to a woman named “Kylie Porter.” At that moment, she realized how ridiculous her twelve-year devotion had been. Seven days from now would be her thirtieth birthday. And the person Wyatt was about to marry wasn’t her. So, she no longer intended to waste any more time on Wyatt. It was late at night when Wyatt returned home. As his assistant who had been with him since the beginning of his business, Haven took care of everything from daily chores to work documents. The two were inseparable, and for convenience, Haven had even moved in to live with him. At this moment, Haven was sitting on the couch, browsing through wedding dress styles on her tablet for the wedding she would attend in seven days while discussing details on the phone. Wyatt, who had just returned from a business dinner, was surprised to see that Haven didn’t come to greet him or take his coat as usual. Instead, she remained on the couch, focused on her call. He vaguely heard words like “wedding dress” and “ceremony.” Standing in the entryway, Wyatt rubbed his temples, visibly impatient, and couldn’t help but remind her, “What are you doing? Didn’t you see I’m back?” Haven put down her phone, glanced up at Wyatt, and replied calmly, “Nothing much. I know you’re back.” Hearing this, Wyatt’s expression darkened with displeasure as he naturally took off his coat and held it out to her. He had grown accustomed to Haven’s care. Previously, whenever he came home, she would take his clothes and send them for cleaning. But this time, Haven calmly refused. “The washing machine is right there. If you want it washed, you can put it in yourself.” Haven had always been obedient, never refusing any of his requests. Her sudden change in attitude made Wyatt’s slightly intoxicated eyes narrow as he studied her curiously. Though he couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong, he definitely sensed something had changed. Yet Haven’s expression remained normal, showing no unusual emotions. Wyatt clicked his tongue in irritation, his tone growing cold. “Designer clothes need to be hand-washed.” Haven replied, “Then send them to the dry cleaners.” After being repeatedly challenged, Wyatt’s anger rose quickly. He tugged at his tie impatiently, his voice hardening. “What’s wrong with you today?” Haven opened her mouth, then decided arguing with him was pointless and there was nothing worth discussing. She simply turned and went to her room. Once inside, Haven could vaguely hear Wyatt making a phone call outside her door. She didn’t want to listen, but the room’s poor soundproofing meant that even with the door barely cracked, Wyatt’s voice came through clearly. Wyatt’s smooth voice carried an arrogant superiority. “I just got home and found Haven already picking out wedding dresses. Did she watch the live interview and think I’m going to marry her when I turn thirty? “I only said those things to appease the reporters. But I did promise Kylie I’d marry her in seven days.” The person on the other end seemed to ask why he didn’t tell Haven the truth. Wyatt gave a cold laugh, his handsome face looking increasingly callous with mockery. “After using a free housekeeper for over a dozen years, would you be willing to let her go so easily? If I have to let her go, it’ll be after I marry Kylie in seven days.” The person asked, “What if Haven finds out?” Wyatt snorted, “I’ve hidden it well; she’ll never discover it. Besides, even if she did, what could she do? She’s so in love with me that I could win her back with just a crook of my finger. What kind of scene could she possibly make? “I’m warning you, don’t let anything slip…” Haven didn’t want to hear any more. She returned to her room, feeling her heart sink into an icy pool, cold and piercing. So in Wyatt’s heart, she was nothing more than a free housekeeper who could be placated with the slightest gesture. She could only blame herself for not seeing it sooner. Knowing he would never marry her, she had still foolishly chased him for twelve years. During those twelve years, she had confessed her love to him nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine times. In truth, each time he rejected her with various excuses, she should have understood that he didn’t love her and would never marry her. Fortunately, she had finally awakened. In seven days, she would leave him completely and marry someone else. The next day, Haven decided to submit her resignation to the company. When Wyatt graduated, he expressed his desire to start a business, but no one believed in him. So he asked Haven to help him. He promised her that once he achieved success, he would compensate her generously. At that time, trusting his earnest promises, Haven gave up a high-paying job at Christmas with a salary of $300,000. When he started his business without startup capital, she helped him raise funds. When no one was willing to give his projects a chance, she helped him find resources. From having nothing to becoming worth billions of dollars, she accompanied him every step of the way. Yet until now, she remained just his assistant with a monthly salary of $8,000. Once, she liked him, so she was willing to be his assistant. Now, she had decided to give up on him and marry someone else, so naturally, she no longer needed to continue in this position. Arriving at the CEO’s office, Haven printed out her resignation letter, ready to have Wyatt sign it. Before signing, Wyatt, perhaps realizing his attitude toward her had been too cold yesterday, suddenly tossed her a small gift box. “Your birthday is coming up in a few days. This is an early gift for you.” Taking the box, Haven opened it to find a gold necklace inside. In the past, she would have been overjoyed, but now, she felt nothing. She knew this necklace was merely a complimentary item that came with the blue diamond Wyatt had purchased for $50 million. In his eyes, she only deserved such freebies, like a dog that would be happy with any bone thrown its way. Wyatt expected Haven to be speechless with excitement over the gift, but was surprised to see no emotional reaction on her face. Haven’s unusual behavior over the past two days made Wyatt furrow his brow. Just as he was about to ask her about it, Haven handed him a document. “There’s a document that needs your signature.” Perhaps due to his excessive trust in Haven, Wyatt assumed it was some important contract and signed his name without even looking at it. However, as Haven was about to leave with the agreement, Wyatt suddenly felt something was off and couldn’t help asking, “What did I just sign?” Not wanting to explain further, Haven casually waved her hand. “Nothing special, just some routine agreements. Oh, by the way, I’ll be taking a few days off and won’t be coming to the office.” After all, once she resigned, she wouldn’t need to come here anymore. “Alright,” Wyatt nodded without giving it a thought. He didn’t want Haven to keep running into his fiancée at the company and cause trouble. Then he added, “Make sure you come back after your vacation. The company has many big projects waiting for you to help me negotiate.” Haven responded with a soft acknowledgment. Wyatt had no idea that this resignation meant she would never return to this company. After being his assistant for so many Christmases, she was completely exhausted. After turning to leave, Haven walked to the reception area and happened to run into Wyatt’s fiancée and company receptionist, Kylie. Kylie was surrounded by a group of colleagues. She was showing off her right hand: “This is the ring my fiancé bought at an auction for $50 million. Beautiful, isn’t it? You’ve probably never seen jewelry this expensive before. Now’s your chance to admire it!” The diamond ring was indeed dazzling, but Kylie was just a receptionist with an ordinary background. She couldn’t possibly have access to wealthy people, let alone own such a valuable ring. Everyone looked skeptical. “Are you sure it’s not fake?” “Yeah, $50 million is a lot. Don’t lie to us, Kylie.” Hearing these comments, Kylie’s face turned bright red. She tilted her head back defensively: “It’s not fake! Don’t talk nonsense!” Stung by everyone’s suspicious looks, Kylie seemed to remember something and quickly pulled out a property deed from her bag, slapping it on the table. “Besides this $50 million diamond ring, my fiancé also bought me a house at Gold Waterfront. Don’t believe me? Look at this!” Her colleagues gathered around, curiously flipping through the property deed. Discovering that it was indeed for a house at Gold Waterfront, with Kylie listed as the owner, everyone’s faces showed envy. They asked curiously: “Impressive, Kylie! You really married a rich man! Who’s your husband? Someone who can afford such an expensive house at Gold Waterfront like Mr. Taylor?”

Kylie just smiled mysteriously without saying a word, telling everyone they would soon find out who she was marrying. Others might not know, but Haven did—Kylie was going to marry Wyatt. If she remembered correctly, Kylie was Wyatt’s college classmate and the person who had been exceptionally hired into the company during Taylor Group’s first Christmas. At that time, Wyatt had intended to groom Kylie as his new assistant. However, no matter how Haven tried to teach her, Kylie couldn’t handle even the simplest tasks like stamping documents, let alone being like Haven who could both negotiate project partnerships for him and take care of his mundane household matters. So before long, Wyatt abandoned the idea of making Kylie his assistant and transferred her to the reception desk instead. The irony was that this incompetent person had ultimately defeated Haven and won Wyatt’s heart. For twelve Christmases, Haven had devoted herself to him, while Kylie didn’t have to do anything—just stand there and effortlessly obtain what Haven had strived for but could never reach. A chill ran through Haven’s heart. She had given her all to the company and cared deeply for Wyatt, only to discover in the end that it was all just a joke. As everyone continued pressing for answers, Wyatt suddenly appeared. “What are you all gathered here for? Don’t you have work to do?” Hearing Wyatt’s voice, the crowd immediately dispersed, each returning to their posts. Wyatt turned to Haven. “Weren’t you supposed to be on vacation? Why are you still at the company?” Haven said, “Oh, I just heard from reception that she’s getting married soon, and I was about to go congratulate her.” Wyatt frowned at her words. “She didn’t mention who she’s marrying, did she?” Haven shook her head. “No, why?” “Nothing, just asking.” When he learned that Haven didn’t know, Wyatt instantly relaxed. Then, Wyatt continued with his instructions: “Don’t wait for me for dinner tonight. A friend invited me out for drinks, and I might be back very late. Since you don’t need to cook, hurry up and organize the bidding documents for the new project. I don’t trust anyone else with it.” Even knowing she was about to go on vacation, he still demanded she work. Wyatt was such a good actor—even while hiding his plans to marry someone else, he still wanted to squeeze every last bit of value from her. But this time, she wouldn’t comply with his wishes. Haven didn’t respond. Seeing her silence, Wyatt furrowed his brow and pressed, “Did you hear me?” Haven still didn’t answer. Instead, she turned and walked away under his gaze. Wyatt stared at Haven’s retreating figure, frowning. He thought to himself, “Is it just my imagination? Why does Haven seem increasingly strange lately? But she’s been in love with me for twelve Christmases and has tried to please me for twelve Christmases. As long as I show her a smile and sweet-talk her a little, things should blow over.” With this thought, Wyatt felt inexplicably reassured. Haven returned to the apartment. Looking around at this place that had long become her second home, after a moment’s reflection, she decided to pack up all her belongings and leave. Since she had already decided to leave, she should leave this house that didn’t belong to her for its future mistress. Haven packed from noon until late into the night, filling several suitcases with her miscellaneous possessions. The night was deep, and her stomach growled with hunger. Just as she was about to get up to eat something, her phone began to vibrate. When the call connected, Wyatt’s friend commanded in a self-righteous tone, “Haven, Wyatt’s drunk. Bring some sobering medicine right away! We’re in private room number 5 at Night Bar.” Without waiting for her response, he hung up, as if completely certain she would show up. Haven didn’t want to go, but then she remembered she still had some belongings in the apartment storage unit, and the key was with Wyatt. If she wanted to get rid of those things for good, she needed that key back. After a moment’s consideration, she dragged her tired body out the door. The moment she pushed open the door to the private room, Haven heard Wyatt’s friend’s mocking laughter. “She actually came! I told you she would! After all, how could she stay away when Wyatt’s involved?” Wyatt, sitting in the main seat, lazily took a sip of his drink and pointed at someone on the sofa, laughing, “I win this round. Remember to pay for tonight’s drinks. I can’t believe you guys bet against me on something so obvious.” Hearing this, Haven immediately understood what was going on. Wyatt wasn’t drunk at all. The “drunkenness” was just a bet they’d made at her expense. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Last time, they’d used the excuse that Wyatt had been injured in a car accident, causing her to rush over in a panic, only to find him standing there completely unharmed. His friends had laughed hysterically at her trembling with anger. Since then, Haven had become their regular betting subject. She had fallen for their tricks several times before, so they probably hadn’t expected her to come this time. The person who lost the bet was now lying on the sofa, wailing while accusing Haven, “Why are you such a doormat? Coming whenever we call, even at midnight! Are you a dog or something? You do whatever we tell you to do, without any self-respect!” Another man stepped forward with a mocking smile, “Hey, that’s a bit harsh. How can you talk to a woman like that? But everyone knows how Haven feels about Wyatt. She’s been following him around for over ten years. Calling her a dog isn’t appropriate. I think ‘nanny’ would be more fitting.” Everyone burst into laughter, their eyes full of contempt and mockery. Wyatt simply observed the scene quietly, making no attempt to stop it. He had expected Haven to get angry as usual and had prepared some comforting words. However, to his surprise, Haven just took a deep breath and calmly asked Wyatt, “I can’t find the storage key. If you have it, please give it to me.” Wyatt frowned, not immediately taking out the key, but trying to change the subject. He moved closer to Haven and asked, “Are you angry? Why do you look so cold?” After a pause, he added, “Michael was just joking with you. Don’t take it to heart—they don’t mean any harm. How about they apologize to you? It’s not a big deal anyway.” Haven responded with a flat “Oh,” showing no emotional reaction. Wyatt was stunned, then waved his friends over. “See? Haven’s upset. Come apologize to her.” The group approached with smirks on their faces. “Haven, please forgive us. We’re sorry.” Their apologies were clearly insincere, merely going through the motions. Haven remained expressionless, looking coldly at Wyatt. “Where’s the key?” Wyatt was surprised by Haven’s calmness tonight, feeling as if she had become a different person. But after thinking it through, he convinced himself that since Haven liked him so much, her nature wouldn’t change. So he took the storage key from his pocket and handed it to her. Haven took the key and turned to leave. Just as she was about to exit the room, she heard Wyatt’s friends teasing him from behind, “Wyatt, why did you make us apologize to Haven?” Another person chimed in, “You just don’t get it. Haven has liked Wyatt for so long. If Wyatt always gave her the cold shoulder, wouldn’t that hurt her confidence? So by occasionally defending her, Wyatt ensures she’ll keep liking him longer. Isn’t that right, Wyatt?” Wyatt nodded. “Yes.” Hearing Wyatt’s “yes,” Haven found it laughable. She thought, “No wonder whenever I was furious, Wyatt always had a way to calm me down.” Sometimes he would give gifts, other times he’d say sweet nothings. But after each reconciliation, he would revert to his usual cold demeanor. Before, she had been completely in the dark, thinking he couldn’t fully accept her because she wasn’t good enough. Looking back now, the problem was never with her, but with Wyatt wanting her to willingly sacrifice for him longer. Now she was actually grateful that choosing to marry someone else had been such a wise decision. Just as she was heading downstairs with her keys, ready to take a taxi home, she spotted a familiar figure through the car window. It was Kylie. She watched as Kylie made a phone call, and a minute later, Wyatt personally came down to greet her. He wrapped his arms around Kylie and tenderly asked, “Why did you come out in this cold weather?” “I missed you. Can’t I come see you?” Kylie said playfully. “Of course you can,” Wyatt replied affectionately, holding her tighter as he escorted her upstairs. After a few steps, Kylie’s shoelace came undone. Wyatt immediately knelt down and tied her shoelace, his eyes full of tenderness. Haven stared at this scene through the taxi window. In the past, these submissive, pleasing gestures were always her doing. She never imagined that the normally arrogant Wyatt would tie someone else’s shoelaces. Wyatt’s friend happened to come out for a smoke and was shocked by the sight. “My God, who would have thought the CEO of Taylor Group would tie someone’s shoelaces?” Hearing this, Wyatt frowned and coldly ordered, “Kylie can’t stand the smell of smoke. If you want to smoke, go somewhere else. And don’t use foul language around Kylie, or you’ll have me to deal with!” His friend, frightened by the warning, quickly scurried away. Sitting in the taxi, Haven watched as Wyatt wholeheartedly protected Kylie in front of his friend, and by comparison, found herself increasingly pathetic. During so many Christmases, no matter how his friends joked at her expense, Wyatt always remained a bystander, paying no attention. But with Kylie, just smoking a cigarette or saying a curse word was enough for him to nearly tear his friend apart. So Haven was now completely awake to the truth. When she got home, it was already two in the morning. Haven tossed and turned, unable to sleep. By the time Wyatt returned, the sun was already up. Wyatt noticed the house felt particularly empty, as many of Haven’s belongings had disappeared. He couldn’t help but ask, “Where are your things?” Haven casually made up an excuse. “A lot of stuff was old, so I threw it away.” There was nothing wrong with her answer, but Wyatt still felt something was off. However, he was about to marry Kylie, so it was indeed inappropriate for Haven to continue living here. If Kylie found out, she would definitely cry. She had always been fragile, nowhere near as strong as Haven. After thinking for a moment, Wyatt said coolly, “Since you’re cleaning up, make sure you do a thorough job.” Haven nodded without saying much. Seeing she didn’t object, Wyatt swallowed the words he had intended to say. He thought, “It doesn’t matter if Haven has really changed. With her feelings for me, a little sweet talk and she’ll come around. At worst, I’ll make some empty promises like I did when we were starting the business. After all, among all the women around me, none is easier to appease than Haven.” Snapping back to reality, Wyatt immediately instructed, “I drank too much last night. Go make me some lemon water.” “I’m heading out. Make it yourself,” Haven replied and turned to leave. But before she could take a step, Wyatt grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?” “What?” Haven asked back, her tone calm. “Did you finish the bid proposal I asked you to do last night?” Wyatt pressed. “No,” Haven answered bluntly, then shook off Wyatt’s hand and walked straight out of the apartment. Wyatt stood there, his expression darkening. He thought, “Haven is getting stranger and stranger. Isn’t she afraid I’ll really get angry and leave her for good?”

Haven went out to order a wedding dress. With just a few days until the wedding, she had promised him she would wait at the city hall entrance wearing her wedding dress, so they could get their marriage certificate together. So, she needed to order her wedding dress in advance. Upon arriving at the high-end bridal boutique, Haven asked the manager to bring out the wedding dress she had already reserved, but the manager hesitated, seemingly hiding something. She asked, “Is something wrong? Is there a problem with my dress?” The manager said, “I’m sorry, Ms. Edwards, but your wedding dress has been ordered by someone else.” Haven said, “I already paid a deposit. How could someone else order it?” The manager hesitantly explained, “Well, the other party offered a higher deposit, so…” Haven interrupted the manager, “Who ordered my dress?” Just as the manager was about to answer, a sweet voice accompanied the sound of the door opening. “Is my wedding dress ready? I want to try it on.” Haven looked up to see Kylie again. At the company, Haven and Kylie weren’t particularly close, but on a personal level, Haven knew Kylie all too well. Seeing Haven, Kylie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Haven, what a coincidence! Are you ordering a wedding dress too?” Haven replied, “Yes, I am.” Kylie asked, “Are you getting married too?” Haven nodded. “Yes.” From the beginning, Haven’s public identity at Taylor Group was simply Wyatt’s assistant. Apart from a few friends in the know, no one at the company was aware of her relationship with Wyatt. Clearly, Wyatt hadn’t told Kylie about their relationship either. After all this time at the company, Kylie still thought Haven was just Wyatt’s ordinary assistant. She asked, “When are you getting married?” Haven answered, “On the seventh.” Kylie exclaimed excitedly, “What a coincidence! I’m getting married on the seventh too.” Then, she curiously asked Haven, “Which wedding dress did you choose?” Haven pointed to a dress displayed in the window with an open back and heart-shaped design, saying, “That one.” Kylie said in surprise, “What a coincidence! Not only are we getting married on the same day, but we’ve chosen the same dress. Now I’m curious who your husband is!” Haven gave a slight smile and simply said, “Take a guess.” Kylie paused momentarily at Haven’s words, as if something had occurred to her, but she quickly changed the subject. After all, Haven had ordered the dress first, and even though Kylie had paid a higher deposit, the manager had no right to give the dress to Kylie. So, the manager refunded Kylie’s deposit, and Haven successfully reclaimed her wedding dress. As Kylie left, she was furious. “Just wait! I’ll have my husband shut down your store!” After Kylie left, Haven returned to her apartment with her packaged wedding dress. At home, Wyatt was sitting on the living room sofa waiting for her. Wyatt didn’t notice the wedding dress in her hands and frowned as he asked, “Why are you only getting back now?” Haven answered, “Oh, I got held up with something.” Wyatt didn’t press further about where Haven had been. After a pause, he said with suppressed anger, “Our partners are already asking for the bid proposal. When are you going to finish it?” His tone carried an undercurrent of accusation and anger, as if Haven had committed a grave error. Not wanting to argue with Wyatt, Haven calmly responded, “I’m on vacation.” “So what? Does being on vacation mean you can’t work? This bid proposal is crucial for Taylor Group’s future development. Do you have any idea how important it is to me and the company?” Wyatt angrily slapped the table as he spoke. Haven stared at the irritated Wyatt, finding his behavior strange. The bid proposal was indeed important for Taylor Group and Wyatt, but it meant nothing to her, especially since she was no longer an employee of Taylor Group. Even if she were still with the company, he could have assigned the task to someone else. Haven just silently watched Wyatt’s outburst without saying a word. Her silence alone was enough to make Wyatt uneasy. Wyatt suppressed his anger, realizing his behavior had been somewhat excessive. So he softened his tone, walked over to Haven, and placing his hands on her shoulders, said, “Haven, I know it hasn’t been easy for you these years, following me and enduring so much. Once you finish this bid proposal, I’ll announce to all Taylor Group employees that you’re being promoted to Vice President. After me, you’ll be the most powerful person at Taylor Group. How does that sound?” In the past, Haven would have been moved to tears by such words. But now, having seen through Wyatt’s tactics, she was no longer the Haven who would be moved to tears by his promises. Once, for his words, she had given up a good job with a $300,000 annual salary. But after all these years, she had received nothing but empty promises. Seeing no reaction from Haven, Wyatt thought she didn’t like the proposal and asked, “Aren’t you happy with what I’m saying?” Haven gave a faint “hmm” and, not wanting Wyatt to notice her change, casually replied, “I am.” “Good. Now be a good girl and write that bid proposal for me.” Wyatt felt reassured. But he failed to notice the look in Haven’s eyes—one of profound indifference. At that moment, Wyatt’s phone rang. Haven could hear a tearful female voice on the other end. After hanging up, without explaining what had happened, Wyatt hurriedly left. Haven knew the caller was Kylie. She was curious about what Kylie had said to Wyatt on the phone that made him so anxious. Haven had no intention of prying, but when she went downstairs to take out the trash, she happened to see Wyatt sitting with his arm around Kylie in the coffee shop below their apartment. In the coffee shop, Kylie was crying as she confronted Wyatt, “I met Haven at the bridal shop today. She chose the exact same wedding dress as mine, and even set her wedding date on the same day as ours. I understand without you telling me—you and Haven grew up together, and your relationship is special. I just need to ask you one thing: are you marrying me or Haven?” Seeing Kylie cry, Wyatt felt his heart ache. He gently pulled her into his arms. Even as Kylie struggled and pounded his chest with her fists, he didn’t let go, explaining softly, “Haven did grow up with me, but she has this almost obsessive one-sided crush on me. I just want you to know that you’re the only one I want to marry. “Kylie, I’m sorry I didn’t explain this clearly to you sooner. That’s my fault.” Wyatt’s expression turned troubled. “She also has delusional disorder—when she can’t have me, she fantasizes about being my fiancée. But Kylie, please believe me, you’re the only one I love.” Wyatt’s heartfelt confession and explanation quickly dried Kylie’s tears. Ignoring the fact that they were in a coffee shop, they embraced tightly and kissed as if no one else was there. Standing outside the window, Haven heard everything and felt increasingly that this version of Wyatt wasn’t worth her affection. Unfortunately, it had taken her twelve whole years to see this clearly, but at least it wasn’t too late. When she returned home, Haven found several messages from Kylie on her phone. These messages were full of malice and warnings, with biting hostility in every line. [Wyatt told me everything. If I catch you chasing after him again, I’ll expose you at your company and ruin your reputation!] [You shameless slut! Don’t you fear karma for interfering in someone else’s relationship?] [We’re very happy together and about to get married. He would never be interested in someone as low-class as you. No matter how much you want him, it’s useless, understand?] Haven glanced at the messages expressionlessly, then put down her phone without replying. However, as soon as Wyatt got home, he anxiously asked, “Haven, you didn’t receive any strange messages, did you?” Haven answered, “No.” Hearing her response, Wyatt sighed with relief, but didn’t forget to remind Haven, “Remember to finish the bid proposal soon, don’t drag it out too long.” Unfortunately, Haven was destined to disappoint Wyatt. Despite Wyatt urging her almost daily about the bid proposal, Haven never started working on it. This delay continued until the day before Haven’s thirtieth birthday. During this time, Haven hadn’t appeared at the company, forcing Wyatt to hire a temporary new assistant. However, this new assistant frequently made mistakes, and Wyatt’s low growls could often be heard around the office, “How can you not know how to do this? Either do it right or get out!” The assistant defended herself with frustration, “Haven used to handle all of this. I’m just learning and don’t really understand it yet.” Wyatt tossed down the documents and irritably rubbed his temples. “When is Haven coming back?” The assistant asked confusedly, “Isn’t Haven…” About to quit? Before she could finish her sentence, a figure in a floral dress had already thrown herself into Wyatt’s arms. Kylie exclaimed excitedly, “Wyatt, tomorrow is our wedding day! I want to have a special wedding, so can we go to city hall tomorrow to get our marriage license first?” Upon seeing Kylie, Wyatt made an effort to suppress the irritation caused by work and affectionately tapped her nose as usual. “Of course, whatever makes you happy.” Kylie smiled sweetly and planted a light kiss on Wyatt’s cheek. “Wyatt, you’re so good to me.” When Wyatt returned home that evening, after a moment of contemplation, he said to Haven, “Your vacation should be ending tomorrow, right? And the tender documents are ready? If everything’s in order, go to the office tomorrow and send the files to our partners. Also, no matter what happens, don’t come looking for me tomorrow. I have some matters to attend to.” He had already anticipated Haven’s possible reactions and prepared his responses accordingly. However, to his surprise, Haven neither questioned him nor showed any objection—she simply agreed. This left Wyatt somewhat puzzled. “Aren’t you even a little curious about where I’m going tomorrow?” Haven smiled faintly but didn’t answer. Once, because she liked Wyatt, she would always follow closely behind him, wherever he went. But now, she no longer had feelings for him, and his whereabouts were no longer her concern. “You really don’t have anything to ask?” Wyatt looked at her with a hint of suspicion. Haven nodded gently. “I do.” “What is it?” Wyatt asked. Haven said, “Tomorrow I turn thirty. Do you remember what I said? After thirty, if you still haven’t married me, I won’t want you anymore.” “I know, but that was just a joke. Who would take something like that seriously? Besides, the company is just getting started, and I haven’t even thought about those things,” Wyatt replied dismissively. In his mind, Haven loved him so deeply that she couldn’t possibly let go of her feelings for him because of a casual remark. Looking at Wyatt’s nonchalant expression, Haven simply nodded calmly. “I understand.” The next morning, Wyatt hurriedly left home dressed in a crisp suit. Haven watched him go, silently thinking, “It’s finally coming to an end.” She changed into her own wedding dress, left a wedding invitation, and then turned to leave the apartment. She thought, “Wyatt, from now on, we have no connection, and I won’t disturb your life anymore.” After leaving the apartment, Haven hailed a taxi and headed straight for City Hall. She knew her future was still long ahead, and she was going to seek the happiness that truly belonged to her.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MyFiction” app 🔍 search for “397875”, and watch the full series ✨! #MyFiction #B×G #ChildhoodCrush #BillionaireRomance #LoveAfterMarriage #spoiled

“Ms. Edwards, are you sure you want to immigrate?” “Yes,” Stella Edwards consistently answered the staff member’s repeated inquiries. After receiving Stella’s confirmation, the staff member said, “Very well, Ms. Edwards. The process should be completed in about ten days. We’ll notify you of the results via text message at that time.” After leaving, Stella hailed a taxi to return home. The taxi’s radio was broadcasting news about the upcoming wedding between Bryce Kingsley, president of the Kingsley Group, and his fiancée, Stella. Rumor had it that Bryce loved his fiancée deeply and had spent an entire year preparing for this wedding. He had hired the country’s top wedding planning team at great expense to create the most magnificent ceremony to marry Stella. This enviable wedding of the century was just ten days away, but neither Bryce nor anyone else knew that the wedding was destined to fall through because Stella was planning to run away. Stella’s father had cheated when she was very young. Her parents later divorced, and she lived with her mother. When Stella was in eighth grade, her mother passed away after a serious illness that Christmas. It was also that Christmas when Stella met Bryce. He was like a sudden beam of light in Stella’s life. When she lost her loved one, he warmed her cold heart. However, having witnessed her mother’s unhappy marriage since childhood, Stella instinctively resisted when Bryce approached her, only agreeing to be with him after he confessed his love many times. To make her his wife, Bryce even climbed the Himalayas, kneeling at the highest peak to swear to the heavens that he, Bryce Kingsley, loved Stella deeply and would marry no one but her. Stella still remembered the day he proposed to her on the mountaintop. She cried uncontrollably, believing her life would be complete from then on. But Stella never expected to be disappointed so soon. Two weeks ago, Stella discovered Bryce was cheating. He had bought another luxury home in the same community where they lived together. He had long forgotten his vows, but Stella hadn’t. When he proposed, Stella had said, “I cannot accept betrayal. So if one day you no longer love me, I will disappear from your world.” At that time, Bryce held her tenderly in his arms and said, “I will never betray you, nor will my feelings change. Stella, I won’t become a man like your father. I will love only you for the rest of my life.” Looking back now, she felt vows couldn’t be trusted. The taxi arrived at the residential area, and Stella paid and got out. She had just had a glass of water after returning home when Bryce arrived. He placed a gift bag on the dining table, then embraced Stella from behind, saying, “Stella, are you feeling better? There was a sudden situation at the company today, so I couldn’t take you to the hospital.” Seeing no response from Stella, he kissed her cheek and then released her. Stella nearly threw up when she smelled the alcohol and perfume on him. Bryce frowned and suggested taking Stella to the hospital. Stella refused because she no longer needed to go. Earlier today, she had sudden stomach pain and was diagnosed with acute gastroenteritis. She had called Bryce more than a dozen times, but he never answered. Stella went to the hospital alone, only to spot him with his assistant, Isabella Thompson, outside the obstetrics clinic. Isabella was happily caressing her slightly protruding belly, while Bryce lovingly had his arm around her. Bryce seemed to love her deeply, and Isabella’s small bump told Stella they had probably been together longer than she had discovered. So after leaving the hospital, Stella went to the immigration agency. She intended to keep her promise and completely disappear from his world. Seeing Stella lost in thought, Bryce quickly asked what was wrong. Stella shook her head, wanting to return to the bedroom, but he held her back. He opened the gift bag on the table, revealing a designer handbag—the exact style she had wanted before. “Stella, in ten days it will be your birthday and also our wedding. I specially ordered this for you from overseas. Try it out.” Bryce looked at Stella expectantly, but she only gave the bag a brief glance. Half an hour earlier, Isabella had updated her Instagram with a photo of an identical limited-edition bag. [Someone who loves you will always find ways to give you the best!] Before Stella could speak, her phone rang. Isabella had updated Instagram again. [The bag has a damaged corner, and I don’t like it anymore. Someone promised to buy me a new one. I’m waiting.] Stella instinctively looked at the corner of the bag. Sure enough, there were some scratches. So the gift Bryce gave her was something someone else had rejected. Seeing that Stella wasn’t as excited as she usually was when receiving gifts, Bryce patiently asked, “Don’t you like this style? I can get you the newest model instead!” When Stella remained silent, he continued, “Today I received a payment notification from an immigration agency. Did you go there?” He paused, then added, “I remember you had a classmate who wanted to immigrate and asked for your help. Did you go with her? Why did you have to pay the processing fee for her immigration application?” Stella nodded, not denying it. After getting together with Bryce, he had solemnly promised to support her for life, leading her to quit her job. Their bank cards were linked. Whenever she spent money, he would receive a payment notification. Perhaps because Bryce was only concerned about the pregnant Isabella, he hadn’t noticed Stella’s unusual behavior. Stella thought this was for the best; she wouldn’t need to find excuses to explain. Bryce sighed with relief, and seeing Stella somewhat distracted, he quickly promised, “I’m sorry I let you go to the hospital alone when you weren’t feeling well. I swear it won’t happen again…” The next day, Stella began packing her things. She had many possessions and wanted to organize them early to ship to New Zealand. Bryce was surprised to see Stella packing so early in the morning. “Stella, are you going somewhere? Our wedding is in nine days. Where are you planning to go at a time like this?” Stella calmly replied, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just sorting through some old items to donate to the mountain communities.” Bryce nodded, not suspecting a thing. Just then, the doorbell rang. Bryce opened the door to receive the delivery and called Stella over for breakfast. “Stella, this soup was specially prepared by a Michelin-star chef. You’ve been having digestive issues lately, so I’ve ordered breakfast deliveries for the next two weeks to help you recover.” Bryce served the soup and placed it in front of Stella. He said, “I remember you used to love this restaurant’s food. Try some.” Bryce insisted on feeding Stella the soup, and she didn’t refuse despite her frown. As he fed her, he said, “Every time you’re unwell, I have to force you to eat. What would you do without me?” “Stella, marrying me is the best decision you’ve ever made in your life.” Stella wanted to laugh inside. She had once thought the same, until she discovered Bryce had fallen for someone else. Only then did she realize her mistake. After breakfast, Bryce wanted to take her to see the wedding venue. “Stella, our wedding is just around the corner. Aren’t you curious to see how the venue is being decorated?” Not wanting to appear too cold and raise his suspicions, Stella reluctantly agreed to go with him. To publicly demonstrate their love, Bryce had personally designed a commercial building for Stella, naming it “Stella’s Star.” Their wedding reception would be held in this building. As soon as they arrived at the building entrance, a large crowd gathered around them. “Are you Mr. Kingsley and Ms. Edwards?” “I admire your love story so much! I hope you stay together forever!” Standing beside Bryce, Stella felt uncomfortable hearing all the well-wishes. Bryce, however, appeared much more at ease. He put his arm around Stella’s shoulders, gently kissed her forehead, and declared, “I will never leave Stella’s side!” The crowd erupted in cheers. When Bryce and Stella’s wedding date was first announced, the media had praised him as a devoted man, earning him many fans. He played his part so well that no one knew he had already been unfaithful, engaging in all manner of deception. The crowd grew larger. Stella felt a pain in her stomach and turned pale. Stella groaned in pain, but Bryce didn’t notice. His phone rang. He frowned as he answered. Stella could faintly hear a woman sobbing on the other end. After hanging up, he reluctantly said to Stella, “Stella, there’s an urgent document at the company that needs my signature. I’ll have the wedding coordinator show you around.” Though his eyes were filled with anxiety, he spoke softly, “Darling, this signature is really important! Be good, I’ll be back soon.” He tried to touch Stella’s forehead reassuringly. Stella avoided his hand and said through her pain, “Go ahead with your work. I’ll wait for you to return.” Bryce gave some instructions to the wedding coordinator and left. After he departed, Stella didn’t enter the building but instead dismissed the coordinator and followed Bryce. Stella tracked Bryce to a building across the street. At the entrance, Isabella was surrounded by several people. “She’s so shameless, daring to claim she’s Bryce’s true love!” “Bryce only loves his fiancée. She’s just humiliating herself!” “Someone as devoted as Bryce would never fall for someone else.” Isabella was trapped in the middle of these hostile people. Though terrified, she kept defending herself, “I’m not lying. I’m telling the truth…” One of them pointed to the building across the street and said, “That building across the way was built by Bryce to prove his love for Stella. How can you claim you’re not lying?” “You have no shame!” Emotionally unstable due to her pregnancy, Isabella cried in frustration, “I really am not lying…” “Liar!” Someone angrily stepped forward, about to slap Isabella. Bryce arrived just in time and shouted, “Stop!” He blocked the person who was about to hit Isabella, shielding her behind him, his expression dark. “Mr. Kingsley, this woman is spreading rumors, claiming she’s your true love. I was just about to teach her a lesson for you…” The speaker looked smug, but Bryce was furious. Isabella timidly tugged at Bryce’s sleeve and said, “They all say I’m lying, but I’m not. Bryce, please tell them I’m not lying.” Bryce kicked the person who had spoken and demanded, “What gives you the right to question her?” Everyone around them was stunned, unable to believe that Bryce, who supposedly loved Stella deeply, would lose his temper over another woman. A silence fell over the crowd; no one dared to speak. Standing at a distance and witnessing everything, Stella gave a self-mocking smile and thought, “So Isabella is Bryce’s true love. What does that make me in Bryce’s heart?” “If any of you dare to hurt my woman again, you’ll face the consequences!” Bryce possessively held Isabella in his arms and said fiercely. If Stella hadn’t known the truth, she might have been moved by the scene. It was precisely because she was Bryce’s fiancée that Stella found the current situation so absurd. Stella’s stomach and heart twisted simultaneously. She couldn’t bear to watch anymore and turned to leave. Shortly after returning to the building, Stella heard hurried footsteps. Turning around, she saw Bryce’s anxious expression. “Stella, I’m sorry. I came back as soon as I finished signing. Is your stomach hurting again? Why are you so pale?” he asked. He habitually placed his right hand on Stella’s forehead. She clearly felt his hand trembling and his genuine concern for her. Bryce had just been extremely protective of another woman, and now he was showing such care for her. Stella suddenly couldn’t tell if his acting skills were exceptional or if she was hallucinating. “I’m fine…” she said softly. Bryce kept his hand on Stella’s forehead and exclaimed, “You have a fever! I’m taking you to the hospital right now!” He lifted Stella into his arms. She struggled to get down, saying, “I just didn’t sleep well last night. I’ll be fine after resting at home.” But he refused to put her down. “Then I’ll take you home to rest now.” Ignoring the stares of people around them, Bryce carried Stella toward the exit. “Stella, I told you I’m your support. Whether you’re feeling unwell or unhappy, just tell me, and I’ll always be by your side!” he said firmly. Hearing his words, Stella felt a pang in her heart. He had indeed said this to her before, but he had already broken his promise and betrayed her. “Stella, what’s wrong? Why does your expression seem off?” Bryce asked. After spending so many Christmases with Stella, Bryce could detect changes in her mood when he paid attention. Stella shook her head and said, “I was just wondering if you remember what you told me when you proposed…” “Of course I remember!” Bryce set Stella down and said earnestly, “Stella, I will only love you in this lifetime, and I will never betray you!” Stella stared at Bryce, thinking: “He only loves me and won’t betray me? Then what about Isabella?” Her gaze made Bryce uncomfortable, and he averted his eyes slightly. He didn’t understand why Stella would suddenly ask him this, but he was confident that he had hidden his affair well, and Stella couldn’t possibly know about his infidelity. Bryce took a deep breath and was about to say something when Stella fainted. She felt like she had a very long dream. When she woke up again, Stella found herself lying in a hospital bed. As soon as she opened her eyes, Stella heard a nurse shout, “Quick, tell Mr. Kingsley that Ms. Edwards is awake!” While others went to notify Bryce, the nurse said to Stella, “Ms. Edwards, you’re finally awake. If you hadn’t woken up soon, we would all be in trouble…” The nurse described how Bryce had brought her to the hospital after she fainted: “He angrily said he would teach us a lesson if anything happened to you! Ms. Edwards, just like the rumors say, Mr. Kingsley loves you so much. You’ve been unconscious for days, and he’s been by your side the whole time, not eating or drinking. He was forced to go rest just an hour ago. In all my years working at this hospital, I’ve never seen a man care so much for his fiancée!” Stella listened to the nurse’s praise of Bryce while maintaining a cold expression. She simply said, “Thank you for taking care of me these past few days.” The nurse replied, “You should thank Mr. Kingsley. He’s been more attentive than any of us medical staff…” Just then, Bryce arrived. Stella didn’t know how many days she had been unconscious, but when Bryce entered, he looked exhausted and had lost weight. “Stella, you’re finally awake. I was so worried about you,” Bryce said in a hoarse voice. Stella said, “I’m fine.” “You scared me to death.” Bryce pulled Stella into his embrace. Being so close to him, Stella noticed the pungent perfume smell on Bryce was unusually strong. Stella recalled what the nurse had just told her. She had been unconscious for days, and supposedly he had stayed by her side without eating or drinking. Yet the perfume smell on him was clearly telling her otherwise. Bryce released Stella. His phone rang. He took it out, glanced at it but didn’t answer. He said to Stella, “Stella, you’ve been unconscious for days, and I’ve been at the hospital watching over you. I haven’t had time for company matters. Now that you’re awake, my assistant immediately called to update me on work.” Stella nodded. Bryce casually took out his phone and sent a voice message: “Isabella, Stella hasn’t fully recovered yet, so I need to stay at the hospital for a few more days. Bring the documents to the hospital. I’ll work from here.”

After sending the voice message, Bryce put down his phone and said to Stella, “Stella, I’m going to take a shower. You get some rest, and if you need anything, just ask the nurse to call me.” She replied, “Okay.” Bryce turned and left the hospital room. Not long after, Stella saw Isabella through the partially open door, carrying a stack of documents, coming to find Bryce. There was nothing wrong with that, except Isabella’s outfit clearly wasn’t appropriate for discussing business. She was wearing an extremely short skirt and a revealing top. Stella thought Bryce and Isabella wouldn’t do anything inappropriate in the hospital in broad daylight, but she underestimated her judgment and overestimated Bryce’s self-control. An hour later, Stella made an excuse to get out of bed to stretch her legs. She walked down the long corridor to the most secluded hospital room in the corner. Through the glass window, she saw Bryce pinning Isabella beneath him. From inside came the sound of urgent breathing from both man and woman. Stella clearly heard Bryce’s voice. He said, “I just satisfied you last night, and now you want more! Don’t you realize you’re pregnant right now!” This was followed by the sounds of kissing, and Isabella moaned, “I just want to make sure you don’t have any energy left for other women! Do you like my new sexy lingerie? Do you like it?” Stella couldn’t bear to listen to what came next. This room was only a hundred yards from hers. Just a hundred yards away, Bryce was in bed with another woman behind her back, like a wild beast out of control. Bryce had always been a disciplined man. Even when he and Stella were deeply in love, he never easily lost control. They had never done that; at most, they had only kissed. He always said that good men like him were rare, and that his friends were all womanizers. Bryce had sworn he would never indulge in physical relationships, and that he and Stella would save their first time for the most important moment. He said he wanted to be responsible for Stella and for himself. Stella thought she had found the best man in the world. But now, seeing him with Isabella in bed made all his previous words seem ridiculous. Heartbroken, Stella returned to her room and found herself in tears. The nurse, seeing her crying, asked in confusion, “What’s wrong?” “I’m just so happy,” Stella said. “What’s making you so happy?” the nurse asked suspiciously. “In seven days I’ll be starting a new life, of course I’m happy.” The nurse remembered that Bryce and Stella’s wedding was in seven days and was genuinely happy for her. “Marrying the one you love is definitely worth celebrating. Ms. Edwards, I wish you and Mr. Kingsley happiness!” Stella neither nodded nor shook her head. From the moment Bryce betrayed her, she and Bryce had been growing further apart… The next day, Stella’s condition improved, and she was discharged from the hospital. After eating breakfast delivered from the restaurant, Stella shipped her last batch of belongings overseas, then pulled out dozens of wedding invitation designs that Bryce had brought back. He had promised to give Stella a perfect wedding, even having different styles of invitations designed for her to choose from. But his so-called perfect wedding had a major flaw. One version of the invitation didn’t use Stella and Bryce’s photo, but instead featured a cartoon wedding picture. And on this version, Isabella’s name was printed in the bride’s position. Stella brought this invitation to Bryce and asked, “What’s this about?” Seeing the invitation with the wrong name in Stella’s hand, Bryce frowned and said, “How could the staff print the wrong name!” Bryce immediately took out his phone to call Isabella. Fifteen minutes later, Isabella appeared before Stella. Bryce threw the invitation in front of Isabella and angrily said, “You’ve been my assistant for so long, how could you make this kind of mistake?” Isabella’s face turned pale as she apologized to Stella, “I’m sorry, Ms. Edwards. I handle many documents every day and accidentally typed the wrong name on the invitation…” Stella calmly asked, “Is that so?” “Really, Ms. Edwards. I didn’t do it on purpose, it was just a mistake…” Isabella was on the verge of tears. This was the first time Stella carefully observed Isabella. Isabella had delicate features and golden long hair, just like Stella when she was younger. “How should we handle this?” Stella asked. Bryce interjected, “Darling, she didn’t do it intentionally…” Stella said, “Then dock her three months’ salary. What do you think, Bryce?” Bryce nodded with a frown. “Whatever you say.” Then he sternly told Isabella, “Don’t make this mistake again! Otherwise, don’t bother coming to work!” Isabella nodded tearfully. “Understood, Mr. Kingsley…” With that, she turned and left. After Isabella left, Bryce was noticeably distracted. He didn’t even notice when his phone rang until Stella reminded him. After checking the message, Bryce said, “Some old friends want to get together to celebrate our upcoming wedding.” Stella pretended to feel unwell and said, “You go ahead. I have a bit of a headache and want to rest.” Bryce immediately responded, “You definitely need rest. These are friends I’ve grown up with. I can’t really turn them down.” “I understand.” Bryce grabbed his phone and left. After he was gone, Stella began packing her things. She had lived in this house for over a decade, and there was too much to pack. She felt that since she couldn’t take many things with her, she might as well burn them all. Stella lit the fireplace and threw in items related to Bryce one by one. In the roaring flames, her love for Bryce also turned to ashes. Stella’s phone rang. Isabella had updated her social media again. The video was clearly from some high-end club, with Isabella sitting on Bryce’s lap. Bryce was looking at her lovingly and kissing her. People around them said, “Bryce is amazing!” “Never thought such a good man would be so wild in private!” “Bryce, teach us how you hide this from your fiancée!” Bryce laughed and said, “As long as I want to, she’ll never know…” Stella turned off the video, feeling sick. But Bryce would never know that she had discovered this long ago. She decided to let them be together by removing herself from the relationship. Late that night, Bryce returned reeking of alcohol and embraced Stella from behind. The strong smell of alcohol mixed with perfume made Stella frown. He said, “Talked with friends a bit late. Sorry, Stella.” Stella asked, “You just talked?” Bryce said, “Yes. I had some drinks, you don’t mind, do you?” Stella turned around, looking at the marks on his neck, and asked, “What’s this?” Bryce solemnly explained, “I’m allergic to alcohol. I’ll take some medicine soon…” “Is it really just an allergy?” Stella asked. Thinking she was concerned about him, Bryce hugged her and asked, “Are you worried about me? Just this once, I won’t drink anymore. Those guys said after we’re married, you’ll be strict and definitely won’t let me drink…”

“I see.” After hearing his explanation, Stella nodded without pressing further. Bryce, relieved she hadn’t grown suspicious, kissed her forehead before heading to shower. The next day, Bryce unusually stayed home with Stella instead of going to the office. “The wedding is just days away. I want to spend this time with you,” he said. Stella questioned, “Won’t we have even more time together after we’re married?” “It’s different.” Though Bryce couldn’t exactly explain how. He’d been spending too much time with Isabella lately, and Stella’s recent disinterest in everything made him uneasy. Five days before the wedding, Bryce began staying by Stella’s side constantly. When she wanted fruit, he peeled and cut it himself. When her stomach hurt, he made corn chowder for her. During meals, he even fed her by hand. The servants whispered that Bryce truly adored Stella, and she would surely live happily ever after. Whether she was happy or not, Stella didn’t know. She only knew Isabella had updated her social media again. While he was cutting fruit, he was sending flirtatious messages to Isabella. When Bryce was making corn chowder for Stella, he was transferring money to Isabella. When he was feeding Stella, he was voice messaging Isabella, coaxing her to send intimate photos. Stella couldn’t understand how he managed this. Perhaps she had never truly known Bryce. So she quietly booked her flight and completed her immigration paperwork. After everything was prepared, the much-anticipated wedding day finally arrived. The night before the wedding, Bryce took her to the riverside and set off fireworks. Under the brilliant lights, he held her and asked, “Do you like it? I prepared this especially for you. Tomorrow at our wedding, I want the whole city to witness my love for you.” His words were tender, the fireworks casting a passionate glow on his face. If she hadn’t just seen Isabella’s post, Stella might have believed him. [Feeling down. Someone promised to cheer me up with fireworks. Hope he keeps his word.] So these fireworks were never meant for Stella at all. Gazing at the display, Stella coldly asked, “We’re getting married tomorrow. Is there anything you want to tell me?” “Of course!” Bryce nodded emphatically. He cupped her face and said earnestly, “Stella, you’re the best woman I’ve ever met, the one I must marry. I love you. We’ll be together forever.” Even now, he was still deceiving her with clumsy lies. Stella’s eyes welled up. Bryce anxiously asked, “What’s wrong, Stella?” “Nothing, I’m just so happy,” Stella forced a smile. Bryce pulled her into his arms and said, “Marrying you is my greatest fortune. After tomorrow, we’ll belong to each other forever.” Stella leaned on his shoulder, thinking of the immigration approval notification on her phone. Stella thought, “I’m sorry, Bryce. We’re not destined to be husband and wife. This time, I’m leaving you forever…” October 10th was destined to be an extraordinary day. Bryce was up and busy at the crack of dawn. His complexion was rosy, his face beaming with joy. He kept making phone calls to confirm every detail of the wedding. “Stella, just thinking that in a few hours you’ll be my wife makes me crazy with happiness!” Bryce’s joy seemed so genuine. He kept repeating this phrase. Stella felt not a hint of happiness, only anticipation for the freedom she would soon gain. When the clock struck twelve noon, the car arrived at the villa’s entrance as planned, ready to take them to the church for the ceremony. Their phones suddenly rang simultaneously. They both answered their calls and hung up at the same time. The smile vanished from Bryce’s face. He said, “Stella, there’s a massive security breach in the company’s financial system. I need to rush back immediately.” Stella asked, “Is it serious?” “Very serious.” But she clearly heard Isabella’s voice coming through the receiver. This was the countless time he had lied. Stella said, “Go ahead, don’t let work wait.” Bryce hugged her guiltily and said, “Give me thirty minutes, I promise I’ll make it to the wedding on time. Wait for me, okay?” “Okay.” As Bryce turned to leave, he suddenly remembered Stella’s phone call and asked, “Who called you just now?” Stella answered, “My college roommate. She’s on a business trip out of state and called specially to congratulate us.” Bryce said, “We should invite her for dinner sometime.” Stella nodded. With that, Bryce left with peace of mind. Bryce would never know that call was from the airline’s VIP customer service, reminding Stella her flight was about to depart. In one hour, she would be boarding. Watching Bryce’s retreating figure, Stella picked up her packed carry-on. She had compiled screenshots of all Isabella’s social media activities into a compressed file, set to be sent automatically. Once she was on the plane and gone, that evidence would automatically appear in Bryce’s inbox. Standing at the villa’s entrance, Stella took one last look at the mansion where she had spent twelve Christmases. At thirty thousand feet, Stella gazed at the sea of clouds outside her window. From now on, she had nothing to do with Bryce. In her heart, she whispered, “Goodbye, Bryce.”

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“Ms. Nelson, when do you plan to reveal your identity?” After a brief contemplation, Evelyn Nelson responded calmly, “Perhaps in five days.” Five days from now would be Christopher’s grandmother Katherine Duncan’s birthday. By then, she would present Katherine with a lavish gift as the sole daughter of the Nelson family. “Have you prepared the birthday gift I mentioned earlier?” Hearing Evelyn’s words, Clare Anderson immediately responded respectfully, “Ms. Nelson, everything has been arranged. The rare pearl necklace has been acquired by Nelson Group at auction for twenty million dollars, and the authentic painting lost for hundreds of years has been added to the gift list. Additionally, there’s a diamond ring personally crafted by a top jewelry designer…” Clare listed numerous items in one breath, each priceless, some even impossible to obtain regardless of money. After listening, Evelyn remained perfectly calm, merely nodding slightly. In fact, besides this gift list, she had prepared a special surprise for her husband Christopher Duncan. Their fifth wedding anniversary was approaching, and she believed he would both like and need this gift. On that day, she would reveal her true identity, telling Christopher that she wasn’t the ordinary woman he thought she was, but the sole heir to the Nelson Group, with assets worth hundreds of billions of dollars. Twenty-five years ago, Evelyn was born into the Nelson family, the wealthiest in the country, a genuine carefree heiress. From childhood, she lived in luxury and was adored. Everyone addressed her respectfully as “Little Princess.” However, starting from when she was five years old, she frequently encountered accidents and often fell ill. Evelyn’s parents were extremely worried. They eventually learned the truth from a fortune teller—her destiny was quite unusual. The only solution was to send Evelyn to be raised in an ordinary family until she turned twenty-five. By then, her misfortune would naturally dissipate, and she could return to her originally wealthy life. Despite their reluctance, for Evelyn’s safety, they had to make the painful decision to part with her. So for all these years, Evelyn had been living a modest life with her adoptive parents under an ordinary identity. During college, Evelyn and Christopher were classmates. Unlike the ordinary Evelyn, Christopher was the campus heartthrob pursued by all the female students. He excelled academically, came from a prestigious family, had handsome features, and possessed a cool demeanor that attracted admiration yet kept people at a distance. Countless girls dreamed of becoming his girlfriend, but only one truly entered his heart. However, this relationship lasted only a year before the girl resolutely went abroad and broke up with him. After the breakup, Christopher fell into despair, drowning his sorrows in alcohol daily, even being rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment after excessive drinking caused a gastric hemorrhage. Evelyn had always had feelings for him. Seeing him so self-destructive, she couldn’t stand by and do nothing, so she accompanied and cared for him during his darkest days. At that time, Christopher’s mother’s condition worsened, and her only dying wish was to see her son married before she passed away, so he would have someone to rely on for the rest of his life. To fulfill his mother’s last wish, Christopher approached Evelyn and proposed marriage. Evelyn, already in love with him, accepted almost without hesitation. After marriage, Evelyn and Christopher respected each other greatly. However, rather than being partners, they were more like polite roommates living under the same roof. Evelyn knew clearly that Christopher had not let go of his first love. But she felt it was okay. She believed true love could overcome all obstacles. When she revealed her identity, Christopher would surely put the past behind him and recommit to their family life.

After parting with Clare, Evelyn returned home alone. She had just walked through the door when she ran into Christopher. Christopher was wearing a suit, clearly having just returned from the office. He was holding an elegant gift box in his hand. Evelyn instinctively started to head to the bathroom to draw him a bath as usual, but Christopher stopped her. He casually tossed the gift box to her. “My grandmother’s 80th birthday is in five days, and I’ve already prepared a gift for you to give her. When the time comes, just hand this to her. I don’t want you embarrassing me at such an important occasion,” he said coolly. His words pierced Evelyn’s heart like a sharp thorn. Due to the constraints of fate, she not only lived a poor life with her adoptive parents but also couldn’t reveal her true identity to others. After so many years, her husband didn’t even know that she was actually the heir to the Nelson family fortune. After a long pause, Evelyn finally said, “Don’t worry. I’ve already prepared a birthday gift, and it won’t be inferior to this one.” She handed the gift box back to him. Christopher laughed as if he’d heard some ridiculous joke. “What kind of decent gift could you possibly prepare? Since we got married, you’ve just been a stay-at-home wife.” He rubbed his temples impatiently and continued, “The company issues have been stressful enough these past few days. Please don’t make trouble, okay?” “I don’t expect you to help with my career. After all, you come from an ordinary family. But at least don’t cause problems that make people mock me.” Evelyn was so shocked she almost blurted out her true identity. How she wanted to tell him right then that she wasn’t ordinary, that she was fully capable of helping his career, and would never bring him shame. But remembering that in five days she would reveal her identity, Evelyn ultimately suppressed the impulse. She took a deep breath, looked Christopher straight in the eyes, and said seriously, “I’m not making trouble. I really have prepared a better gift than yours. And I won’t embarrass you.” After all, Christopher was her husband. She had always been considerate of his feelings and taken meticulous care of him—how could she ever humiliate him? The birthday gift she had prepared—whether it was the $20 million pearl necklace, the original oil painting lost for hundreds of years, or any of the other rare treasures on her list—would be enough to stun everyone present, certainly far surpassing the gift box in Christopher’s hand. However, Christopher obviously didn’t believe her, thinking she was just putting on a brave face. He pushed the gift box back into her hands and said with finality, “Come on. Don’t I know exactly how much money you have? This gift was chosen according to my grandmother’s preferences. Just give it to her when the time comes.” Seeing that he completely dismissed her words, Evelyn sighed helplessly. She was about to explain further when Christopher’s phone suddenly rang. Glimpsing the caller ID, Christopher’s exhaustion instantly vanished, and a hint of tenderness appeared on his usually cold face. He unconsciously smiled before walking away to answer the call.

The caller was Selena Murphy, Christopher’s first love. Back then, Selena and Christopher’s relationship lasted less than one Christmas before she hastily broke things off. She said she didn’t want to bother him and promptly left for abroad. Christopher desperately tried to keep her, but ultimately failed to win her heart. After Selena left, Christopher was devastated. Although Evelyn gradually helped him out of despair, after so many Christmases had passed, he still longed for Selena in his heart. Just yesterday, Selena returned to the country. The first thing she did upon her return was to contact Christopher. When Evelyn learned they had reconnected, she couldn’t help feeling displeased, but she chose to respect Christopher’s decision. She would always remember how Christopher had firmly stood in front of her when she was mocked for her foster parents’ poverty during Christmas as a child. He defended her like a hero, leaving an unforgettable impression in her heart. Since then, she had willingly devoted herself to the man she loved. She always believed that Christopher would someday understand her feelings. Lost in thought, she noticed the housemaid walking toward her. Since Evelyn was now a full-time housewife of ordinary background, she had been expected to handle various household chores after joining the Duncan family. Of course, she had suggested getting a job outside the home, but her proposal was immediately rejected. However, besides not being allowed to work outside, Evelyn had another reason for choosing to be a homemaker. Christopher worked hard, often staying at the office until late at night, frequently forgetting to eat. For the sake of business development, he couldn’t avoid drinking at social gatherings. Soon, his digestive system became fragile and sensitive. Because of this, Evelyn learned to cook, just to take better care of his health. She was happy to devote herself to her beloved and never felt any shame in it. Unfortunately, others didn’t see it that way. The Duncan family’s maids had always looked down on her and frequently ridiculed her. They were even bold enough to order her around directly. When Evelyn snapped back to reality, the maid had approached her and glared at her, saying, “All the plates in the kitchen are piled up. Why aren’t you washing them?” “Hurry up! Are you deaf?” Evelyn had long grown accustomed to such imperious scolding. In the past, she would have silently endured it and complied. But now, as she was about to reclaim her true identity, there was no need to swallow her pride anymore. “We don’t employ you just to pay you for nothing. Am I the only one who can wash plates around here?” Evelyn’s retort stunned the maid. She hadn’t expected this typically submissive woman to suddenly transform like this. As the maid was about to lose her temper, Evelyn had already turned and walked away. Even though she hadn’t yet reclaimed her identity, she was still Christopher’s legitimate wife. The Duncan family had many servants, and these household chores shouldn’t have been her responsibility in the first place.

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After five years of dating, my anti-marriage boyfriend Nicholas Ward secretly applied for marriage with Raelynn Lopez behind my back. He rented an entire farm, filled it with flowers, and held a grand wedding ceremony with her. In the video, Nicholas’s gentle voice echoed: “Raelynn, Serenity Gray is just a tool to bear our child. Once the baby is born, she’ll pack her things and leave. You’re my only one.” Shocked, I called Nicholas with trembling hands, but he snapped impatiently: “I’m at work. Can you stop bothering me during working hours? Do you think everyone has as much free time as you do?” Then he hung up. I stared at the people in the video, and the next moment, I received an express delivery. The marriage certificate inside stabbed my heart. Once, I gave up everything, even willing to stay unmarried to be with Nicholas. But it was all a lie! I wiped away my tears and called my parents, Lincoln Gray and Olivia Gray. “Dad, Mom, I agree to the arranged marriage.” On the other end, my mother Olivia cautiously asked: “Serenity, have you finally come around? What about your boyfriend? Did you two have a fight?” Hearing Olivia’s words, tears instantly streamed down my face. “I don’t want him anymore. Don’t worry. I’ll be home in seven days.” Even after hanging up, Olivia still couldn’t believe it. Back then, to be with Nicholas, I not only refused the arranged marriage but even cut ties with Lincoln and Olivia. But in the end, I realized I had pushed away the people who loved me most for someone who didn’t love me at all. Looking at the marriage certificate in my hand, the names of Nicholas and Raelynn pierced my eyes deeply. When Nicholas and I first got together, he said he was against marriage and would never consider it. I didn’t want to lose him, so I agreed not to get married. But I never imagined his anti-marriage stance only applied to me. Just then, there was a noise outside the door. I hurriedly put the marriage certificate back in the delivery box and wiped away my tears. “Your package arrived.” Upon entering and hearing my words, Nicholas froze, a flash of guilt crossing his eyes. “It’s just a company document, probably delivered to the wrong address. You didn’t open it, did you?” Seeing his nervous expression, I shook my head. Nicholas immediately appeared calm, so I deliberately tested him: “My mom called me. We’ve been together for so long. When will you come home with me to meet them?” Hearing my words, Nicholas’s hand paused as he was taking off his coat. He frowned at me and loudly accused: “Serenity, are you even getting your parents to pressure me into marriage? I told you I’m against marriage. If you still want to be with me, you’d better drop these ideas.” Although I had anticipated his response, my heart still ached. I said softly: “I won’t bring this up again.” Nicholas put his arm around me reassuringly, his expression softening. “Serenity, I’ve been too busy with work lately and have neglected you. I’ll try to spend more time with you soon.” I forced a smile and nodded. When Nicholas went to shower, I disgustedly brushed off the spot he had touched. On the table, Nicholas’s tablet kept chiming with WhatsApp notifications. I clenched my fist and finally picked up the tablet. In WhatsApp, Nicholas was chatting in a group with his friends. [Nicholas, you prepared such a thoughtful surprise for Raelynn today. Won’t Serenity find out?] Nicholas replied: [Serenity loves me so much she’s even willing to stay unmarried for me. I have nothing to fear.] [If I wasn’t afraid of Raelynn suffering through pregnancy, I wouldn’t even consider using Serenity’s womb to carry a child for Raelynn. After all, someone of her status doesn’t deserve to serve me.] His friends were delighted, constantly sending disgusting messages. [Nicholas, you’re amazing, making Serenity love you so much.] [A poor woman like Serenity will definitely cling to Nicholas.] [Nicholas is so lucky. Serenity has a nice figure, probably great in bed.] Nicholas not only failed to stop them but joined in mocking my figure. These words felt like a knife stabbing into my heart. I never told Nicholas about my family background, but I never imagined it would become his reason to humiliate me. I went to Nicholas’s Instagram and saw photos and videos of him and Raelynn, including their marriage certificate, wedding, vacations, and kissing photos. I recognized all the people commenting below, yet Nicholas had blocked me so I couldn’t see any of his posts. I laughed bitterly. All these years, Nicholas never posted anything about me on Instagram. I thought he was just private. But I never imagined it was because I wasn’t worth it. I was merely a pawn in this scheme. I closed my eyes and put the tablet back. If that’s how it is, it’s time for me to leave.

Nicholas had just finished his shower when I was already lying in bed. He lay down beside me, pulling me into his arms, his hands wandering beneath my clothes. “Serenity, let’s have a baby?” I froze, memories of what happened earlier today flooding my mind. Instinctively, I asked, “But we’re not married. How would we raise a child?” Nicholas replied impatiently, his expression darkening, “Do we really need to get married? I’m powerful enough to provide for a child.” I found it laughable and closed my eyes in self-mockery. He made it sound good, but he only wanted me to have a child for Raelynn. I didn’t want to be a pawn in this couple’s schemes anymore. I pushed Nicholas’s hand away and said, “I don’t feel well. I want to sleep.” Immediately, Nicholas’s desire vanished. He was furious, turning his back to me without another word. Until he left the next morning, Nicholas hadn’t spoken to me. He was waiting for me to apologize first, like I always did before, but I wouldn’t apologize this time. I turned to tidy up when suddenly I began to retch violently. Feeling uneasy, I immediately bought a pregnancy test. Looking at the positive result, I sat helplessly on the toilet, feeling incredibly conflicted. I had once desperately wanted to have a child with Nicholas. Yet this child decided to come just when I’d chosen to leave. Just then, an urgent phone call came through. I answered, and Nicholas’s anxious voice came through. “Serenity, come to the hospital right away. I’ve arranged for someone to pick you up.” He hung up before I could respond. My thoughts remained in chaos until his bodyguard put me in the car. Only after arriving at the hospital did I realize what had happened. Raelynn had suffered severe bleeding while attempting egg retrieval for IVF. No hospital in the city had her blood type in stock, and since Raelynn and I shared the same blood type, Nicholas planned for me to donate blood to her. Nicholas looked at me pleadingly. “Serenity, Raelynn grew up with me. I see her as my sister. You’ve always been so kind. Please help her.” I forcefully pulled my hand away, my eyes reddening. “Why should I? I won’t do it.” He deceived me, schemed for my child, and now wanted me to give blood to Raelynn. Why should I do that? Nicholas coldly said, “Serenity, when did you become so heartless? Today, you must give her blood.” He then pulled me toward the operating room. Unable to bear it anymore, I finally shouted, “Nicholas, I’m pregnant. I can’t donate blood.” Hearing my words, Nicholas froze. He stood there, staring at me in shock. But just then, a nurse ran out anxiously. “Mr. Ward, Ms. Lopez’s condition is critical. We can’t wait any longer.” As if awakened from a trance, Nicholas gave me a complicated look, then coldly said, “Serenity, we can have children in the future.” I instantly understood his meaning and asked in disbelief, “You’re giving up our child too?” Nicholas didn’t look at me again, instead ordering his bodyguard to drag me in to donate blood. I was pulled into the transfusion room while struggling. I felt my blood being drained, my consciousness gradually fading. Finally, I lost consciousness. When I woke up again, no one was around me, but I could hear voices from outside. A woman said, “That’s the CEO of the Ward Group, right? I heard he’s been waiting outside the room without eating or drinking, waiting for Ms. Lopez to wake up.” Another woman added, “My goodness! He’s so devoted. I wish I could meet a man like that.” Hearing these words, I felt completely calm. Just then, a doctor entered. With trembling lips, I struggled to ask, “My baby…” The doctor looked at me regretfully and said, “We did everything we could, but we couldn’t save him.”

My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a giant hand, the pain making it impossible to breathe. This time, I failed to protect him. After resting for a few days, I dragged my weakened body out of the hospital. When I got home, I found the house empty. Clearly, Nicholas hadn’t returned yet. The pregnancy test was still on the bathroom counter. Instantly, I felt a painful sting in my nose. I wanted to cry but couldn’t. Just then, my phone rang. I answered—it was Nicholas. “Serenity, are you home?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied. Nicholas sighed with relief. “Raelynn wants to thank you, so she’s hosting a special dinner for you tonight. I’ll come pick you up later.” Before I could respond, he hung up. Barely twenty minutes later, Nicholas returned. Seeing that I hadn’t changed clothes and still had traces of tears on my face, he looked guilty. “Serenity, the situation was too urgent for me to think clearly. Besides, it was my sister’s life at stake. You understand, right? We can have another child in the future. Don’t overthink it—go get changed.” He then pushed me toward the bedroom. I felt irritated. “I’m not going.” Nicholas immediately furrowed his brow and said with displeasure, “Raelynn is extremely grateful to you, which is why she arranged this dinner right after leaving the hospital. Don’t be difficult.” Eventually, Nicholas dragged me to a VIP room at the Royal Clubhouse. As soon as I entered, I saw Nicholas’s friends sitting on the couches. When they saw me, their sticky gazes landed on me. I remembered the chat messages I’d seen days ago, where they had shamelessly discussed my body with Nicholas. Instinctively, I reached for Nicholas’s sleeve, but he walked straight over and sat down. Raelynn approached with two glasses of wine, smiling. “Serenity, thank you for saving me. I’ll drink this first.” She downed her glass in one go. Nicholas’s concerned yet resigned voice followed. “Raelynn, you just had surgery—don’t drink too much. Just let Serenity drink.” Raelynn playfully stuck out her tongue, then handed me the other glass. “Serenity, why don’t you drink this and forget about what happened that day?” Everyone’s eyes turned to me. I looked at Nicholas, realizing he had no intention of helping me, only gazing adoringly at Raelynn. I laughed bitterly to myself. He remembered that Raelynn had surgery but forgot I had just miscarried. He was right to act this way. After all, Raelynn was his legal wife. I took the glass, finished the wine, then calmly asked, “I’ve drunk it. Can I leave now?” I put down the glass, ready to go. But then Raelynn’s voice suddenly rang out. “Nicholas, I accidentally left my phone in the car. Could you get it for me first, then take Serenity home?” Nicholas hesitated. But Raelynn intimately shook his hand and continued, “Please?” “Alright,” he said, standing up and walking out. Not wanting to stay, I prepared to follow him. But suddenly I felt dizzy, and my body began to weaken. I instantly realized the wine had been drugged. I tried to leave but fell heavily to the floor. Those men laughed playfully as they dragged me by my legs. One man laughed, “Trying to leave? Nicholas has left you for us to play with.” My body trembled violently, filled with shock. Their hands began to wander over my body. Another man laughed, “I’ve heard Nicholas say you’re amazing in bed. Today, let us try too.” Seeing Raelynn’s smug smile nearby, my heart filled with despair and fear. “Please, don’t…” But before I could finish, my clothes were torn apart. I gave up, no longer having the strength to struggle. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, Nicholas pushed open the door. I struggled to say, “Save…” But in the next second, amid the laughter, Nicholas coldly said, “You can only play with her, don’t actually do anything.” When I woke up again, I was in the hospital. Nicholas sat beside my bed, gently holding my hand. “Serenity, I forgot you couldn’t drink after your surgery. Thankfully, you’re okay.” Before I could say anything, he softly added, “Raelynn and my friends were just joking with you. I’ve already punished them. Just forget about yesterday.” After hearing his words, I stared at him in shock. “Are you kidding? That’s rape! I won’t let them get away with drugging me. I’m calling the police!” Nicholas froze, then stood up. “The police? Nothing happened to you. Why would you call the police? Enough. Just get some rest. This is all over now.” I didn’t respond, just stared numbly out the window. Nicholas was about to say something when he was interrupted by a phone ringing. He stepped outside the room to answer it, then left without returning. At that moment, I felt strangely calm inside. As I was preparing to get out of bed and leave, several nurses gave me strange looks. Then, one woman said, “So she’s the mistress who’s destroying Mr. and Mrs. Ward’s marriage. She’s shameless.” Another woman scoffed, “Did you see how she looked in that video? She’s obviously done this before. She’s probably in the hospital because she took things too far and got hurt.” My body stiffened, and I couldn’t help asking, “What photos are you talking about?” One of the women said, “Your videos and photos are all over the internet. You’re a promiscuous homewrecker. Get out of here!” I frantically searched for my phone, only to realize that photos of me being pinned down by Nicholas’s friend last night had gone viral. I had been fighting back, but from the deliberately chosen camera angle, I looked like I was enjoying it and participating willingly. Someone had posted my information online, labeling me as a homewrecker. My phone number had been exposed. Countless strangers were sending me abusive messages. [You’re a shameless mistress! You have no morals.] [Don’t you have parents? How dare you destroy someone else’s relationship as the other woman?] [I hope you get hit by a car when you go outside. People like you deserve karma.] Even worse, many people sent me degrading messages. [Nice body. How much for one night?] [I’ll pay you well if you spend the night with me.] I shut off my phone with trembling hands as grief washed over me. Then I fled the hospital. On my way home, I felt like anyone who made eye contact with me was looking at me with malicious intent. After rushing home with my face covered, I took out my backup phone and called Lincoln and Olivia. The moment the call connected, Olivia’s concerned voice came through. “Serenity, I’ve seen what’s happening online. Don’t worry. I’ll pick you up at the airport right away.” Hearing her caring words, tears immediately fell from my eyes. Even Lincoln, who was usually serious, had a slight tremor in his voice. “Don’t cry. We’ll always have your back. You don’t need to worry.” Soon, I was heading to the airport with my suitcase, wearing a mask. Before boarding, I sent Nicholas a breakup text, then decisively threw my phone into a trash can. I would never return to this place. Meanwhile, Nicholas was lying on the bed in his villa wrapped in a towel, while Raelynn was taking a shower in the bathroom. Suddenly, a jarring ringtone broke the silence. Nicholas pressed the answer button, and an anxious voice immediately came through. “Mr. Ward, somehow the video from the private room yesterday has leaked online. Your relationship with Raelynn has been exposed.”

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My husband of thirty years, Bryce Burton, announced at his retirement party that he would be taking in his deceased brother’s wife, Camille Fields, to stay with us temporarily. The guests praised him for his kindness. I rubbed my aching back, watching like an outsider as my children attentively cared for Camille. My son Martin Burton suggested, “The master bedroom has better lighting, and Camille’s health is poor—she needs natural sunlight. Mom, why don’t you move to the small cabin on the north side?” My grandson Lucas Burton happily said, “I like my new grandma. She draws with crayons, unlike old grandma whose pictures aren’t pretty at all.” Bryce threw away all my paintings. “These paints could trigger Camille’s asthma. You’ve been painting for forty years without gaining any recognition. Just live a peaceful life and stop talking about dreams.” That night, Bryce stayed in Camille’s room. Later during the holidays, the whole family took Camille on a world tour, leaving me alone at home. Bryce frowned at me and said, “You should stay home. We’ll share photos with you.” I sat motionless all day, carefully reflecting on my entire life. I had given up my opportunity to study abroad so my husband could complete his doctorate. I raised our children, cared for his parents, and in the end, I was cast aside by them all. I found the invitation to the International Senior Artists Exhibition. I no longer want this family. For my remaining years, I should pursue my dreams. ***** “I’m willing to accept the special invitation to the Paris art exhibition. As long as you don’t reject me because of my age, I’m ready to continue my path in art.” Professor Claude Weber’s excited voice came through the phone. “Ms. Norah Gilbert, the art world has been waiting for you for forty years! Your graduation piece ‘Spring Dawn’ is still on display in the academy gallery.” After finalizing the appointment time, I hung up. Suddenly, a message popped up in the family chat group from Martin—a group photo. At the Eiffel Tower, Camille wore a pink dress, intimately holding my husband’s arm. Bryce was dressed in a dark blue suit, his gray hair impeccably combed. Even approaching sixty, he maintained himself well; time had only made him more dignified and refined. Our children stood on either side of them, smiling brightly. The caption read: “Three generations together, seeing the world with our most beloved family members—a moment of happiness belonging to our little family.” I stared at the photo for a long time, tears welling in my eyes. Martin’s wife, Alaina Burton, sent a voice message: “Norah, look how beautiful the Paris night view is! Too bad you couldn’t make it.” Martin quickly replied: “Mom, don’t overthink it. You don’t even like traveling. Even if you came to Paris, you wouldn’t enjoy yourself and would just spoil the mood.” My feelings were complicated, so I didn’t respond. If I hadn’t married Bryce and had gone to study abroad instead, perhaps I would have visited Notre Dame in Paris long ago. Bryce and I met in college. Back then, he wore a worn-out shirt and performed Romeo and Juliet at the freshman party, instantly captivating me. Before we got together, I knew his first love had married his brother. But Bryce repeatedly promised to treat me well, and I believed him. In those days, love meant choosing to be with someone for a lifetime. But before we married, I received an opportunity to study abroad, only to unexpectedly become pregnant. Bryce’s parents said, “Bryce has great academic potential. Once he completes his doctorate, he’ll surely take good care of you and the child.” So I burned my acceptance letter from École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts, choosing instead to marry and have children. I had planned to pursue my career and fulfill my dream of traveling the world after Martin grew up a bit. But the children’s education, marriages, grandchildren’s births, and so on consumed all my time and energy. From twenty-five to fifty-five, not a single day did I live for myself. The phone rang—it was Martin. “Mom, we’ll be home tomorrow at five. Prepare dinner early. Camille says she wants clam chowder, and remember to add extra green onions.” I wanted to say I’m allergic to green onions. For decades, I’ve never added green onions to clam chowder. Before I could respond, Camille’s laughter came through. “Norah, I’m so sorry we left you alone at home. Let me bring you back some gifts.” Bryce’s stern, deep voice followed. “She doesn’t need gifts. Just showing her the photos is enough.” Lucas chimed in, “Grandpa’s right! Grandma’s old now and should just rest at home. Grandma Camille is so beautiful—she should be in more photos.” Heartbroken, I didn’t want to hear any more and hung up. In the mirror hanging in front of me, I saw myself at fifty-five—wrinkled face, heavy bags under my eyes revealing exhaustion, and messy gray hair. Compared to the radiant Camille in the photos, I looked disheveled. I pressed my cracked lips together, making up my mind. Now that Martin has a successful career and a happy family, and my daughter is married too, this family no longer needs me. It’s time for me to leave.

I rubbed my aching back, just about to pack my bags, when suddenly the phone rang again. The caller was my daughter, Kaylee Burton. I sighed and answered. Kaylee impatiently said, “Mom, why did it take you so long to answer?” I gripped the phone tightly and asked softly, “What’s wrong?” Kaylee said, “I’m due to give birth in a few days, but Jim is on a business trip to Boston. I’ll have to go back to work after I deliver, and nannies are so expensive these days. Can you come help me take care of the baby?” I leaned against the kitchen doorframe, the pain in my back forcing me to shift my position. Kaylee’s voice rose a notch. “Jim’s mother has high blood pressure and can’t be overworked. Besides, Dad has Camille to take care of him now, and they’re traveling together. You have plenty of time on your hands.” My throat felt like someone was squeezing it, leaving me speechless. This was my beloved daughter. She worried about her husband’s mother but not about me, her own mother. In her eyes, I was just a free babysitter with nothing but time. From the other end came a nurse’s voice urging her to come for a check-up. Kaylee quickly said, “Mom, hurry up and pack your things to come over.” Then, she hastily hung up. I sat hunched on the sofa. The warm sunlight fell on me, but I felt only cold. After sitting for a long while, I got up to pack my bags. After thirty-five Christmases in this house, all my belongings barely filled one small suitcase. I smiled bitterly, as sadness gradually enveloped me. The next morning, before dawn, I went to the market to buy the freshest ingredients. When I returned home, I dug out my old notebook where I had recorded everyone’s food preferences. [Bryce loves lamb chops but with little oil, Martin likes braised beef short ribs, Alaina doesn’t eat basil, Lucas loves Buffalo hot wings…] I placed the notebook in a visible spot in the kitchen cabinet. After I left, I hoped they would find it useful. I still didn’t put scallions in the clam chowder. I had compromised for them my entire life; this time, I didn’t want to compromise anymore. By five in the afternoon, I had prepared eight dishes. Bryce returned from vacation with the family. Seeing no scallions in the clam chowder, he immediately frowned. “Didn’t I tell you to add more scallions because Camille loves them? You can’t do anything right. Throw it out and make it again!” Martin also accused me, “Mom, you’re getting more confused with age. Camille had a tiring journey, and now she can’t even enjoy a proper meal.” Hearing their accusations, I felt nothing but exhaustion. Camille put on a bitter smile and said, “It’s okay. Norah’s been busy all day. If she doesn’t want to make it, that’s fine. After all, I’m just an outsider.” Seeing her upset, everyone immediately rushed to comfort her. “What are you standing there for? Go make it again!” Bryce looked at me with displeasure. I didn’t remake it; I just took the clam chowder back to the kitchen. Before entering, I looked at Bryce. “I’m allergic to scallions. Whoever wants them can make it themselves.” Ignoring their changing expressions, I closed the kitchen door. After dinner, I washed the dishes alone in the kitchen. Bryce walked in, showing no signs of remorse. “If you don’t tell us you’re allergic to scallions, how would we know? Stop looking so dejected, as if someone owes you something.” My dish-scrubbing motion paused. After a few seconds, I asked, “Do you need something?” In all our decades of marriage, Bryce had always avoided the kitchen. He believed such a dirty place would taint him. Bryce slightly furrowed his brow and informed me, “Camille doesn’t have children. Martin and I have discussed it and decided to transfer his guardianship to her.”

I stared at Bryce, my voice trembling. “Martin is my son. What right do you have to give him to Camille?” Bryce’s expression darkened. “My brother worked himself to death to put me through school. Now Camille has no one to rely on. What’s wrong with giving her a child?” He suddenly pressured me. “If you hadn’t gotten pregnant and held me back, I would have studied abroad years ago. Can’t you give my brother’s family even this small compensation? Norah, you’re so selfish!” His words cut me deeply. I had given up everything for him, managed the household, cared for his parents and our children, yet in his eyes, I was nothing but a burden. Hearing the argument, Camille walked in and gently patted Bryce’s shoulder. “Bryce, calm down. Your heart isn’t good. You shouldn’t get upset.” When she looked at me, she was cautious, adopting the posture of a victim. “Norah, if you don’t agree, it’s fine. I’m used to being alone anyway.” Bryce slammed his hand on the table and snapped, “This matter is settled. Norah, you must agree. I’m the head of this household!” Martin entered with his wife and child. He frowned at me and said, “I’ve made my decision too. Stop interfering.” Then he turned to comfort Camille. “Please don’t take it to heart. Feel free to stay here.” Alaina took my arm. “Don’t worry, Martin and I will take care of you.” My heart ached. They were a family, and I was the outsider. I held back my tears, struggling internally for a long time. “Bryce, let’s…” I finally made up my mind and said, “get a divorce.” The room fell silent instantly. Martin showed no concern for me, only accusation: “Mom, you want to divorce Dad over something as trivial as transferring guardianship? Can you stop making a scene?” Bryce snorted, mocking me: “You think you can copy those young people and use divorce to pressure me? Norah, without me, could you still live this comfortable life? If you want to stay in this house, behave yourself!” After saying this, he took the whole family out to a newly opened restaurant, claiming he wanted to make up for Camille’s disappointment at missing the clam chowder earlier. I remained in the empty house, feeling a sadness I had never known before. I silently threw away the barely touched food and finished the housework before dragging my exhausted body to take a shower. Camille hadn’t wiped the floor after her shower, leaving water everywhere. I slipped and fell hard on the tiles. Sharp pain shot through me, making me wince. After a long while, I managed to crawl out of the bathroom and called Martin. I called him seven or eight times, but he hung up every time. My heart sank. I struggled to get up and applied medicine to my bruises. An hour later, I saw Martin had updated his Instagram. In the photo, the family sat around Camille, who had a cake and gifts in front of her spaghetti. The caption read: [Even on ordinary days, we should give Mom a little surprise.] My heart ached dully. I turned off my phone, applied more medicine, and went to bed. In the early hours of the morning, I was awakened by pain and faintly heard Bryce’s voice in the living room: “Let Camille have this house. Send your mother to the old house in the countryside so we can have some peace and quiet around here.” I froze in place. Alaina’s hesitant voice came through. “But Norah is quite old now. Is it appropriate for her to live alone in the countryside? Maybe we should go stay with her for a few days?” Lucas immediately objected with disgust, “No way! Grandma’s going to raise chickens and ducks when she goes back to the countryside. It’s filthy! I’m not going!” Martin coldly replied, “Mom’s always throwing tantrums at home, making everything a mess. She’s better off living in the countryside. That way, everyone can have some peace.” Bryce calmly said, “That’s settled then.” I lay in bed, my gaze empty and numb. They didn’t even want to keep me in this home. The next morning at seven, I packed my luggage, taking only my documents, a few clothes, and that invitation letter. Finally, I left a signed divorce agreement in the study before heading out. Suddenly, messages came through in the family chat group. They were all congratulating Kaylee on giving birth, sharing photos of Camille and Bryce by her side. My fingers trembled as I zoomed in on the photo. Kaylee had given birth at four in the morning, and not a single person had thought to notify me about such an important event. Gasping for breath, I hurriedly dragged my suitcase downstairs. Ignoring the pain in my legs, I hailed a taxi and rushed to the hospital. At the very least, I wanted to see my daughter and grandchild one more time before leaving. At the hospital, I found Kaylee’s room. Before I could open the door, I glimpsed through the crack and saw Camille sitting by the bed. Kaylee was holding her hand. “Thank you for being here with me. You care about me more than my own mother does.” The color drained from my face. Behind me, a nurse pushing a medication cart approached and asked curiously, “Which patient are you here for? Aren’t you going in?” I took a deep breath, shook my head, and pulled a gift from my pocket. “Please give this to the new mother in Room 302.” The nurse took the gift and was about to say something, but I had already turned away resolutely. The air conditioning in the airport was on full blast, making me shiver. I clutched my boarding pass, sitting in a corner as my phone kept vibrating. In the family chat group, Lucas sent a voice message: [Grandma, come quick to see Aunt Kaylee’s baby sister! Her skin is all wrinkly, just like yours.] Bryce scolded: [Norah, you don’t even come to see your daughter after she’s given birth. You’re truly an unfit mother!] Martin chimed in: [Mom, Camille has done so much for Kaylee. How can you let her exhaust herself like this?] Kaylee also expressed her disappointment: [You didn’t even come to see me after I gave birth. I really wish I didn’t have a mother like you!] After hesitating for a few seconds, I gently tapped “Leave Group Chat” and blocked all their contacts. As the boarding announcement sounded, I tossed my phone into a trash bin. As the plane took off, I took one last look at the city where I had lived for fifty-five years. A dream delayed by more than forty years—I was finally going to make it come true.

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For Memorial Day weekend, I booked flights to take my family to Hawaii. But my dad, Richard Bennett, had other ideas. He grabbed my phone, smashed it on the floor, and kicked me hard, knocking me down. Then he grabbed his belt and started whipping me. “You ungrateful parasite!” he roared as the belt struck my skin. “Do you know how much those tickets cost? When I was your age, I jumped freight trains looking for work and got my head cracked open by cops without making a sound!” I screamed, my body covered in welts and bruises. My mom, Catherine Bennett, didn’t lift a finger to help me. Instead, she took out her phone, recorded my pitiful state, and posted the video to our family’s “Happy Together” group chat. Catherine: [Kids these days only think about pleasure. Can’t handle any hardship. Always flying somewhere for fun.] The group chat exploded immediately. My mom’s brother Thomas Whitman: [My daughter works her ass off even with a 103-degree fever.] My mom’s sister Elaine Holloway: [My son spends summer hauling bricks at construction sites to build character.] My dad’s sister Monica Ramsey: [My daughter’s husband takes the whole family to the dump to sort recyclables. While your spoiled daughter is here wasting money on vacations!] They took turns attacking my “spoiled” lifestyle, boasting about how their children thrived through toughness and sacrifice. So the next day, I canceled the tickets. With my beaten, limping leg, I printed out a registration form for “Back-to-Basics Boot Camp” and handed it over with a smile. If they wanted hardship, I’d let them taste the “good old days.” But five days later, they were crying and begging me to pick them up. ***** I opened the “Back-to-Basics Boot Camp” website, reading the program details line by line, each sentence more gut-wrenching than the last. Wake up at 4 AM for physical labor, rationed coarse meals, communal barracks for sleeping, and physical punishment for rule violations. My cursor hovered over the “Ultimate Hardship Package” for a long time. Then I decisively clicked “Confirm.” At breakfast, I slid the printed registration form across the table to Richard and Catherine. “Dad, Mom, choosing Hawaii was wrong,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “You’re right, we should all experience real hardship together.” Catherine’s eyes lit up. She snatched the form, took a photo, and posted it to the family group chat with a message. [Sophie signed us up for a “Taste of Tough Times” boot camp! Who else wants to join? Register now!] Richard smoked his cigarette, flicking ashes onto the stovetop I had just cleaned. He quickly replied to the group. [Like I’ve always said, kids today need a wake-up call. I gave her a good beating yesterday, and now she finally respects her elders.] Relatives swarmed in, flooding the chat with messages. Elaine was first: [We’re barely making ends meet. My son works hauling bricks in summer for extra cash. We can’t afford fancy vacations.] Monica’s voice message dripped with sarcasm. “Must be nice having the time and money to play around. Some of us have real responsibilities.” Richard and Catherine’s egos inflated from the provocation. Richard puffed out his chest and announced, “Since everyone’s so eager, let’s rent a bus and make this a family event. Everyone can taste the hard life!” Catherine hastily agreed, nodding vigorously. “Exactly! And Sophie will foot the bill—it’s time she showed some gratitude!” My heart sank. With over twenty relatives in the group, the cost would easily reach five figures. “Mom, I don’t have that kind of money,” I said with a trembling voice. “You can’t just—”

I caught my breath. I had only intended for the older generation—those who constantly droned on about the “hard times”—to experience this. Dragging the entire family into it wasn’t part of the plan. I carefully replied in the group chat: [Everyone’s busy, right? Probably don’t have time for a trip.] But Richard wasn’t buying it. My attempt to dodge Thomas’s proposal had clearly angered him. “Don’t tell us how to raise our children,” he snapped. “This is a rare opportunity for all of you to learn some resilience. No one is allowed to miss it.” Catherine immediately chimed in: [Missing this would be an insult to the entire family!] I watched as likes popped up one after another in the chat, then silently turned off my phone. These stubborn old folks wouldn’t budge no matter what I said. Then Thomas called, excitement evident in his voice. His son Ethan Whitman had come home, and he wanted us to stop by his house for a gathering to discuss the details of the training camp. Richard agreed on the spot. Catherine yanked open my closet, and the musty smell of mothballs hit me in the face. For many Christmases, whenever I used my own salary to buy new clothes, she would scold me for “wasting money.” Once, she even tore apart all the clothes I had bought right in front of me to “teach me a lesson.” Now, my closet contained only worn-out secondhand clothes. I rummaged through and picked out the least tattered shirt. Catherine nodded with satisfaction. “Better to keep it simple. We don’t want your uncle thinking we’ve gone soft and forgotten our roots.” I held back a laugh. How amusing that they didn’t hesitate to spend my salary on renting a bus, but now they were all about “staying humble.” At Thomas’s house, a decoration reading “Hard Work, Perseverance” hung in the living room. My aunt Linda Whitman bustled about, setting up two distinctly different tables. The large round table was laden with steaks, roast chicken, and wine. The small square table was pushed to the side, with only a few hard dinner rolls and a plate of watery vegetables. I frowned, but Linda beamed at me. “Sophie, come try the ‘Taste of Tough Times’ meal I prepared for you and Ethan!” Before I could respond, Richard pushed me forward. “Go on, tell your uncle about this project you’ve arranged.” I rattled off the details in one breath: waking up at 4 AM for physical labor, rationed food, communal dormitories. Thomas slammed down his wine glass. “You call that hardship?” he roared. “Back in my day, I was shoveling manure at three in the morning!” His outburst startled Ethan, whose hand jerked, dropping his fork with a sharp clatter. Ethan had grown up under Thomas’s iron fist, either being yelled at or beaten, constantly indoctrinated with the “Spare the rod, spoil the child” philosophy. The guy was terrified of his father. After a few bites, Ethan put down his utensils and muttered, “I have exams next week, might need to study…” Thomas smashed his plate to the floor, shattering it. “You want to sneak off while your elders are still eating? Sit back down!” Ethan shrank back into his chair, lowering his head. After dinner, I was assigned to wash the dishes. Ethan slipped into the kitchen, complaining in a low voice, “Sophie, what the hell? This training camp was your lousy idea, and now we’re all being dragged into it.” I remembered what my cousin Clara Whitman had told me. She had tried reasoning with Thomas, saying times had changed and there was no need to make children relive past hardships. But Thomas wouldn’t listen. He was determined to force Ethan—a kid preparing for his SATs—to “experience the struggles of our generation.” I turned on the faucet, letting the water noise cover our conversation, and pulled out my phone. I opened the “Ultimate Hardship Package” page and grinned. “You don’t want to go, right? They think it’s not tough enough? Well, I have a plan…” Ethan glanced at the training camp description. His expression shifted from fear to disbelief, finally settling on a strange, almost excited look. That night, I sent a message to the family group chat: [Due to high demand, the bus is fully booked. To ensure the elders get the full experience, I’ll lead the younger generation in a separate free hardship program. We’ll go our separate ways and meet at the destination after five days.]

The family group chat erupted with complaints from the elders. Thomas shouted the loudest: “Separate? No way! You kids need someone watching you, otherwise you’ll just slack off and fool around!” Richard glared at me, his voice low and suspicious: “What scheme are you cooking up now?” I was prepared and replied calmly. “The boot camp heard that the elders wanted an authentic nostalgia trip, so they upgraded it to the ‘Silver Years Special’ package. A five-stop journey, going back in time from the 90s Christmas era all the way to the 50s Christmas era. You’re practically going to time travel.” The group chat exploded instantly. Monica couldn’t contain herself: “I’m going to wear overalls and a headscarf—perfect for Instagram photos!” Thomas chimed in: “Sophie, keep an eye on those little troublemakers, and don’t forget to send video updates!” Watching the conversation shift, I smiled slightly and typed: “No problem.” On Memorial Day, the whole family met at the gathering point, dragging enough luggage to sink a ship. “Sophie!” Catherine yelled at me while hauling an enormous suitcase. “Come help! These are all essentials!” I glanced at the suitcase. Thermos bottles, bags of snacks, and even a portable massager. I held back my laughter. Bring whatever you want—it’ll all be confiscated soon anyway. After confirming everyone had arrived, a dilapidated bus puttered up. The paint was peeling, and faded “Hard Work, Perseverance” stickers covered the windows. Richard wrinkled his nose. “What kind of junk is this? No air conditioning?” I shrugged. “Dad, this is all my salary can afford.” He scoffed. “Then you should get a second job. What’s a little hardship in your Christmas generation?” I didn’t bother responding. Since I started working, more than half my monthly salary went to my family. The rest, I saved bit by bit. After everyone boarded, I approached Dale Ward, the boot camp coordinator. “My relatives are here to suffer. Please give them the VIP treatment.” Dale gave me a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, our ‘Taste of Tough Times’ travel agency specializes in this.” The door slammed shut. I stood outside, waving with a bright smile. “Have fun!” As the bus rumbled away, I took out my phone and opened the “Back-to-Basics Boot Camp” livestream. On screen, Dale was rallying the group through a loudspeaker. “Everyone, our first stop is a 90s-era bar to relive the good old days!” Upon arrival, Dale led them into a campsite decorated with flickering lights, yellowed boy band posters, and a clunky rotary jukebox. The elders went wild. “The 90s were the best!” Richard shouted, grabbing the microphone. “I was busy with business then, hitting the bars every night!” He belted out an off-key grunge rock song, his voice hoarse but refusing to stop. Thomas climbed onto a coffee table, attempting to dance disco, nearly splitting his pants. Catherine stared at her phone, posting dozens of Instagram stories: “This is real nostalgia!” The livestream comment section exploded. “This doesn’t look like a boot camp, it’s an old folks’ rave!” “Uncle Thomas is dancing like he’s being electrocuted, his pants are about to burst!” “‘Hard Work, Perseverance’? More like ‘1999 Party Madness’!” I chuckled, typing in the comments: “Just wait, the real show is coming.” Three hours later, Dale led them to a dilapidated farmyard. Faded slogans covered the crumbling mud walls, with rusty pitchforks piled in the corner. Dale’s voice changed, becoming stern. “Alright, everyone, the real lesson begins now. Hand over all your personal belongings—immediately!” Catherine was the first to break down, clutching her suitcase like a lifeline. “Impossible! I need these things!” Dale stood in the center of the farm, expressionlessly pointing at her snacks and massager. “These are decadent luxuries! Sugar-coated traps!” Richard reluctantly removed his watch, muttering, “It’s just a watch, why make such a big deal?” I stared at the livestream, holding back laughter. Richard actually said “just a watch.” When I once saved up for a basic calculator, he called me a hopeless idiot who would never amount to anything. “Richard! Step forward!” Dale’s voice cracked like a whip. “That attitude is the worst form of self-indulgence! Run ten laps around the yard—now!” Richard’s face froze. Under everyone’s gaze, he had no choice but to start jogging, his pride trailing behind him. Finally, all their phones, backpacks, and suitcases were confiscated. The staff even found the lighter Richard had hidden in his sock. Dale’s voice was ice-cold. “From now on, call me Mr. Ward. You will complete all five stations—no one gets to quit halfway. Those are the rules.” I sprawled across the leather couch in the living room—the one I was never allowed to touch—and propped up my tablet to watch the livestream. The comment section was exploding. [These folks love bragging about resilience, but when they actually face hardship, they all want to run.] [This is just the beginning. They’re complaining about losing their stuff, wait until things get really tough.] I stretched lazily, enjoying the rare opportunity to hog the couch. In the livestream, Dale waved a metal megaphone. “Work assignments! Men shovel manure, women take hoes to the field!” Thomas stared at the manure bucket, his face turning green. “I’m a retired executive of a global company!” Dale handed him the bucket. “Executives lead by example. Ten buckets before you eat.” Once they all went to work, I hummed a tune while raiding the refrigerator. Richard and Catherine’s stockpile of gourmet fruit? All mine now. I filled a plate with strawberries and wandered over to Catherine’s vanity, sampling her high-end creams one by one. My phone buzzed. Ethan messaged: [Sophie! Quick—they’re about to eat!] The livestream cut to the cafeteria. The elders lined up with metal trays, receiving portions of coarse bread and watery vegetables. Linda gagged after one bite. “This stuff? Even pigs wouldn’t eat it!” Dale slammed the table. “Wasting food? People starved to death in the 60s!” Linda argued, “But we’re experiencing the 90s! Why bring up the 60s?” Dale smirked. “The decade doesn’t matter. You’re here to taste hardship. Complain again and you’ll skip dinner.” The comment section exploded: [This isn’t a training camp, it’s a labor reform school!] [Hypocrisy alert! They call kids spoiled, but they can’t even swallow a piece of bread!] [Oh, now you care about “decades”? Then stop forcing your outdated lectures on others!] The elders sat with mud-stained faces, glumly gnawing on dry bread. Catherine muttered, “The spinning wheel gave me bloody blisters. Even textile factories aren’t this cruel.” Richard sighed, “Eating this stuff? How are we supposed to have energy to work? I paid good money to come here, surely there must be real food.” Catherine’s eyes lit up. “What do you have in mind?” I drifted to the liquor cabinet and took out Richard’s treasured whiskey—once when I accidentally knocked it over, he made me kneel for three hours as punishment. I raised the bottle toward the livestream with a grin. “To my dear elders. I’ll drink first. You enjoy your ‘fun’ at your leisure.” That night, I sank into the bathtub after pouring in half a bag of Catherine’s luxury bath salts. While soaking, my phone suddenly rang. I answered, puzzled. Richard’s voice came through, trembling and tearful. “Sophie, I was wrong. No more fake hardship, please. Come get us, or I’m finished!”

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Three years after our wedding, my husband Caleb Reynolds forced me to accept an open marriage. He casually tossed out the idea, his voice light, almost joking. “I gave you the ring, the vows, all the commitments. But my body? That’s free. Don’t you want to live more excitingly this Christmas, see what else is out there?” He knew perfectly well I couldn’t do that. I have a condition—lactating despite never having children. It’s not something I can casually mention to strangers. Every time my breasts engorge, I’m miserable—not just embarrassed, but in pain. Without someone to relieve that pain, I completely fall apart. I flatly refused him. Caleb was unhappy. He stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. That night, the pain returned, sharp and merciless. My chest ached, I felt dizzy, barely able to think. Then I felt it—strong, warm hands, firmly placed on the soft curves of my waist. ***** Caleb’s palm struck my face hard, snapping my head to the side. The pain was hot and sharp, but I forced myself to look him in the eyes, tears welling up, stinging. “Caleb, I just want a normal marriage. Is that so wrong?” “Normal?” His gaze fell to my chest, his lips curling with contempt. “What’s normal about you?” As if on cue, my body betrayed me. A wet stain spread across my shirt, the rich scent of milk filling the air. I hurriedly covered my chest with my hands, my cheeks burning red, wishing I could disappear into the floor. “Why are you hiding it? You think I can’t tell you’re starting again?” Caleb’s sneer hit me like a punch to the stomach. He knew how shameful this was for me, this uninvited milk my deepest wound. His mother, Barbara Reynolds, spoke without hesitation, her voice full of venom. “If it weren’t for those wide hips of yours screaming ‘baby-maker,’ I would never have let Caleb marry you. Three years, and you can’t even produce a child.” She pointed at me, her words sharp. “Caleb is too good for you. We won’t let him waste his life being tied to you.” She grabbed his arm. “Come on, we’re going out to eat. I’ve arranged for you to meet several girls. You can pick one.” Caleb didn’t even look at me. He just followed her out, the door clicking shut behind him. I collapsed onto the floor, my heart as cold and hard as the tiles beneath me. It all started when I was barely out of my teens—milk leaking for no reason, no baby. Wherever I went, I could feel those stares, those whispers. I learned to wrap myself in layers, clothes upon clothes hiding my secret. When Caleb and I were dating, he discovered my secret by accident. His eyes lit up, not with disgust, but with something else—perhaps desire. “Serena,” he whispered, “I had no idea you were so… unique.” I curled against him in shame. “You don’t think I’m a freak?” He held me tight, so tight I could barely breathe. “A freak? This is a gift.” After that, he was obsessed with me. He showered me with affection, promised me the world. My body? He worshipped it, as if wanting to melt into me. But marriage changed him. As they say, people stop wanting what they have. My chest ached, not just from the memories, but from the pressure building inside. The milk was flowing faster now, soaking through my fingers. Panic rose in me. I stumbled to my feet, lurching into the bedroom, my heart racing wildly. In the past, when things got bad, Caleb would be there, helping relieve the pain. Now? I was alone, desperate. Trembling, I pulled out the small toy I kept hidden under my pillow, gritted my teeth, and positioned it, hoping to ease the pain. But it wasn’t enough. I felt my body’s heat growing even more intense, unbearable. I turned it to the highest setting, my body shaking until, exhausted, I passed out. In the haze between sleep and wakefulness, I felt hands—large and warm—sliding over my waist. The toy was yanked away, leaving emptiness and pain. “Caleb…” I murmured, pressing against his cool body. It slightly calmed the fire within me. He didn’t answer. His arm roughly pulled me closer, his breath hot against my chest, and he bit down, more roughly than ever before. It hurt, but God, I liked it. He was like a storm, releasing all his anger, working me over until dawn broke. When I woke up, Caleb was gone. The pain had disappeared too, leaving my mind clear, almost light. “Jerk,” I muttered, half-smiling. He was always like this—knocking me down, then bringing me back with moments like these. I climbed out of bed, cheeks flushed, picking up the scattered condoms from the floor and tossing them in the trash. I guess they’re right about arguments being the spark in a marriage. Last night, Caleb was… well, more than usual. Humming, I walked toward the kitchen to make him breakfast. But passing through the living room, I froze in my tracks. On the sofa sat three men, all strangers, each one completely different from the next, like day and night. I didn’t recognize any of them.

I looked around, searching for Caleb, but he was nowhere to be found. My stomach churned as uneasiness crept into my heart. The three men on the sofa stared at me in unison, their gazes heavy, as if I had wandered into a nest of vipers. I quickly tightened my robe, suddenly acutely aware of how thin the fabric was. This was probably just another batch of Caleb’s friends. He always loved bringing friends home without warning, making me play the dutiful hostess, running around like a maid. I cleared my throat and put on my well-practiced smile of a gentle wife. “Hey, can I get you—” Before I could finish, the front door was pushed open forcefully. Caleb strode in, his eyes narrowing when he saw me. He smoothly took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. “Serena, we have guests. Why are you wandering around practically naked?” My eyes caught the fresh scratch marks on his neck, and relief washed over me. Even though we had fought last night, he hadn’t left me alone. My heart softened, sweet as honey. I pulled his still-warm jacket tighter around me, my voice slightly teasing. “I thought it was just the two of us.” He simply pushed me toward the bedroom. “Go change into something decent.” I nodded, completely compliant, and slipped back to the bedroom to change. When I returned, the men were scattered on the sofa, drinking coffee and chatting like old friends. Caleb waved me over to sit beside him, directly facing the three men. He introduced them one by one, “Victor Harlan, a renowned lawyer. Samuel Trent, a doctor. And Leonard Finch—my college classmate I’ve mentioned before, he’s a professor.” I nodded politely in acknowledgment, remaining silent as they conversed. I mentally gave Caleb credit—these friends were clearly a cut above the rest. His previous friends were loud, filled the house with cigarette smoke, and bragged about things that never added up. These three seemed more sophisticated. I smiled to myself as I walked into the kitchen to prepare lunch. Just as I turned on the faucet, the door creaked open. Victor walked in uninvited. “Mr. Harlan, do you need something?” I asked, confused. He rolled up his sleeves, flashing a relaxed smile. “Can’t let you do all the work alone.” Before I could refuse, he took the vegetables from my hands and began washing them, his movements as practiced as if he owned the kitchen. He chopped with precision and confidence, like a professional chef. His controlling demeanor triggered a memory—last night, Caleb had been rough. After easing my pain, he wanted more, and when I begged him to stop, he pinned my legs down, each thrust harder than the last. My cries nearly shook the walls. I pleaded until he finally stopped… “Serena?” Victor’s voice pulled me back to reality, his hand waving in front of my face. I coughed, my cheeks burning as I stammered, “What is it?” “Your pot is about to burn.” I jumped, suddenly aware the stove was still on, and hurriedly poured oil into the pan. The oil sizzled, but I heard his soft laughter—gentle, almost intimate. My heart raced, and my face grew hotter. I shook my head, trying to focus on cooking, silently cursing myself for being so flustered. The men came in one by one to carry dishes to the table, with Caleb, as usual, sauntering in last and doing the least. Instead of apologizing, he grinned. “So, how do you think they’re doing?” I glared at him, annoyed at his laziness. “They’re great. Much better than you.” His laughter sent a chill down my spine, all teeth and no warmth. After lunch, the sky split open as torrential rain poured down. The weather forecast warned of thunderstorms for the next few hours. The men exchanged worried glances. Caleb, ever the king of the house, waved his hand dismissively. “The roads will be slippery. Serena, prepare the guest rooms. They’re staying tonight.”

I pressed my lips together, holding back a sigh. Caleb always put his friends before family. He knew perfectly well I was going through a sensitive period, when I’d rather hide away than deal with strangers. But my hints meant nothing to him. He patted the three men on their shoulders, grinning widely. “Order whatever you want, Serena will get fresh sheets ready for you.” I let out a small huff, resigned to playing the good wife role as I headed toward the guest room to prepare. The spare blankets were stacked on the top shelf, out of my reach. I climbed onto the bed, my legs slightly shaky—thanks to Caleb’s overzealous performance last night. I cursed under my breath, blaming him for my sore muscles. As I yanked down a blanket, my foot slipped. Before I could hit the floor, someone rushed in and caught me, strong arms steadying my body. Thinking it was Caleb, I complained without hesitation, “Oh, now you come to help? Were you waiting for me to break my neck?” After a moment of silence, a low chuckle came from behind me. “Hey, I’m helping now, aren’t I?” That wasn’t Caleb’s voice. I jerked back, my heart racing, to find Leonard standing there, grinning like a kid caught stealing cookies. I was mortified, realizing he’d heard every complaint. “I—I thought you were… I didn’t know it was you.” “Caleb, right? No worries, I don’t mind,” he laughed easily, waving away my embarrassment. His smile was bright and carefree, as if he never had a serious moment. It was hard to imagine him as a professor, lecturing in front of a class. I managed a terse “Good to know,” grabbing the blanket, eager to escape. My instincts told me we had nothing to talk about. But as I walked toward the guest room, I heard his footsteps following behind me. I gave him a questioning look. He shrugged. “They’re playing poker in the living room, getting pretty intense. I’m not much of a card shark. Thought I’d help you out.” I glanced toward the living room, seeing Caleb pulling out his worn limited-edition deck, laughing with Victor and Samuel like they were storming a battlefield. Irritation churned in my stomach, but with Leonard right there, I swallowed my anger to avoid embarrassing Caleb. Leonard proved surprisingly competent, focusing on making the bed with an attention to detail I hadn’t expected from him. He talked like a slacker but worked meticulously. I couldn’t help comparing him to Caleb and blurted out, “If Caleb were half as considerate as you, my life would be so much easier.” Without missing a beat, he responded, “Well, maybe you should trade him in for me then.” My eyes widened, and I laughed nervously. “Don’t joke like that. I’m Caleb’s wife.” I took it as a joke. I thought, “This must be guy humor, right? Friends don’t steal each other’s partners, and we just met. He can’t possibly be serious.” But as I busied myself with the sheets, I could feel his gaze, heavy and warm, drilling into my back. It didn’t feel like a joke. I froze, mumbled an excuse, and fled the room. I cornered Caleb in the bathroom, whispering, “You and Leonard—are you close?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why the sudden interest?” I hesitated, then forced myself to say, “He… he’s making passes at me!” Caleb burst out laughing, loud and unconcerned. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. “That’s a good thing,” he continued laughing. “Means you’re attractive.” His nonchalance stung. No jealousy, no concern—just that dismissive shrug. I suddenly remembered his advocacy for open marriage, and my heart sank. Of course he didn’t care. A guy like him who fooled around probably hoped I would too. Why would he worry about me cheating? Angry, I pushed him out of the bathroom. “Fine! Keep laughing and see how I make a joke out of you!” I collapsed onto the toilet, my thoughts in chaos. My body, the traitor, began responding to the emotional turmoil again. A soft moan escaped before I could stop it. “Caleb…” I bit my lip, hating how much I needed him. That’s why he had control over me—he always knew how to make me come back. The pain in my chest intensified, my shirt already soaked through. I couldn’t face him like this. I stripped off my clothes and turned the shower to cold, hoping the icy water would extinguish the heat inside me. It didn’t work. In desperation, I began touching myself, letting out a cry I was sure would be covered by the rain and water noise. No one would hear. Lost in the haze, I didn’t notice until a warm, solid body pressed against me from behind. I screamed, lunging forward, but the figure behind me held me tight, keeping me firmly in place. His rough hands made me tremble all over. No one else could touch me like that—it had to be Caleb. Still stinging from his earlier coldness, I muttered, “Stay away from me…” But my body had other ideas, leaning into him as if craving his warmth. He didn’t respond to my half-hearted protest, just brushed his lips against the back of my neck, igniting a heat that made my knees weak. If he hadn’t held me up, I would have collapsed to the floor. Perhaps because of our earlier argument, he was different tonight—gentle, almost careful. Each touch was light and teasing, but not enough to extinguish the fire raging inside me. I turned impatiently to face him. “Caleb, what’s going on? Can you just—” He gripped my chin, preventing me from seeing his face. I let out an impatient huff. “Caleb, stop playing games. Hurry up.” His hand froze. A cool chuckle brushed against my ear, then his kiss came like a storm, fierce and unyielding. The water had turned warm, and I couldn’t tell if the flush on my cheeks was from the steam or his touch. The pain in my chest subsided, replaced by a bone-deep satisfaction, even as my back pressed hard against the tiles. Exhausted, I collapsed into his arms. He carried me out of the bathroom, and I curled against him, suddenly shy knowing his friends were still in the house. Back in the bedroom, I dove under the covers like a nervous teenager, my cheeks burning. His low laughter filtered through the blanket, and I felt him kiss my forehead before quietly leaving. I peeked out; the rain outside was still tapping against the windows, but my heart felt lighter than it had in days. I drifted into a satisfied sleep. A clap of thunder jolted me awake. I reached for Caleb, but the bed was cold—he hadn’t returned. “What’s wrong?” his voice came from across the room, and I sighed with relief, turning to answer. But there he was, lounging casually in the armchair, phone pressed to his ear. He chuckled softly, warm and intimate. “Want me to come over and keep you company? Hmm?” My heart stopped, a jagged crack splitting it open. Whatever the person on the other end said made the corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement. He whispered a few sweet nothings, then said, “Wait for me, I’m on my way.” He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door without hesitation. I couldn’t help calling out, “Caleb!” He didn’t even pause, just walked straight out. The door clicked shut, followed by a deafening thunderclap, as if the sky itself was mocking me. Tears streamed down my face, hot and unstoppable. Seven years together—our first love, our everything. He used to love my quirks, my differences. Now he despised them. I’d been blaming myself, wondering if I should have given in to his ridiculous open marriage proposal. But now I understood. He had someone else, someone he’d drop everything for at just a phone call. His so-called “freedom” was just an excuse for his unfaithful heart. What had these seven years meant? A joke? The passionate days we’d just shared only made me feel more like a fool. I cried until my chest ached, until I could barely breathe, until sleep dragged me under once more. I didn’t hear the door open, but someone was there, their weight pressing down on me. Hands roughly grabbed my chest, making me wince. A small gasp escaped me, and the touch immediately softened. Fingers lifted my chin, and a possessive kiss stole my breath, making me dizzy until I forgot to resist. Then lightning split the sky, the white flash jolting me awake. Caleb—he had left. So who was this? I forced my eyes open, staring at the person above me, head lowered, still moving. My breath caught as my eyes widened in shock.

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Dominic Reid is my stepfather’s brother, my uncle, and the entire city knows he loves me deeply. At least that’s what they think. The day he proposed to me with a diamond ring, a sonogram of his former lover Vivian Blake spread like wildfire across social media. She was pregnant. Despite my objections, he insisted on turning our wedding into a bizarre threesome. “Vivian needs me. I must marry her too.” Tears stung my eyes, but I nodded, my heart shattering into pieces. However, on our wedding day, Dominic didn’t walk me down the aisle. Instead, he made me lead a filthy mutt, leashed and panting, while I stood frozen in my wedding dress. The internet exploded, countless memes and mockery making me the laughingstock of Christmas. My mind crumbled under the humiliation. To salvage a shred of dignity, I exposed Vivian’s dirty secrets in front of everyone—every sordid detail laid bare. Vivian stormed out furiously. Hours later, news came that she had gotten into an altercation with some thugs. They beat her bloody, leaving her dead in an alley. Dominic disappeared for a week. When he reappeared, he clung to me tightly, his eyes hollow yet uncompromising. I thought perhaps he had returned to me. Then came the day I gave birth. In a cold operating room, Dominic loomed over me, his hands steady as he cut open my abdomen. No anesthesia. Just the cold blade. He removed the stillborn—our child—and replaced it with the freshly dead body of a Teddy dog. Then, he stitched my flesh closed with rough sutures, each one deliberate. “Vivian suffered a hundred times worse that night,” he growled softly, “you deserve this.” I screamed until my voice gave out, blood pooling beneath me, my vision fading. I died with my eyes wide open, staring at the man I once loved deeply. My soul didn’t rest. It lingered, watching Dominic address countless cameras at a press conference. “Evelyn Crowe gave birth to a deformed child,” he said flatly, “she deserves to be buried with dogs.” Then, somehow, my eyes snapped open. I was back on my wedding day. ***** “Vivian is afraid of dogs. She can’t handle this pressure. Take this dog and go in.” Before I could process his words, Dominic shoved the rough hemp leash into my palm. At the other end was a filthy dog, reeking and smearing dirt on my pristine white gown with its matted fur. A chill ran through my entire body. I was stunned—thrown back to that nightmare wedding. In my previous life, I had stumbled down this path, dragging this stinking dog, becoming their laughingstock. Not this time. Heaven gave me a second chance, and I wouldn’t waste it. Without hesitation, I threw the leash to the ground. “This wedding is canceled.” I looked Dominic straight in the eyes. “If you’re so eager to marry Vivian, then go ahead. The ceremony is yours.” With that, I tore off my veil, lifted my skirt, and strode toward the exit. Vivian’s eyes moistened, her delicate fingers clutching Dominic’s sleeve like wilting flowers. “Dominic, maybe I should leave…” “Evelyn!”

“I want to see Grandpa Silas!” I shouted, struggling to break free from Dominic’s grip. His fingers tightened, as if threatening to crush the bones in my wrist. He leaned in close, his voice low. “The wedding isn’t over yet. What’s wrong with you?” He stepped even closer, his eyes flashing with menace. “Walk out now, and I’ll make sure the Crowe family never holds their heads up again. You know what I’m capable of.” I held my breath, my gaze locked with his. A chill crept up my spine. I’d seen that look before—in high school, when bullies surrounded me. Dominic had flown in from overseas and forced each kid who tormented me and their parents to line up and apologize. By nightfall, their family businesses had collapsed, swallowed by Dominic’s empire. But now, I was the target of his threats. The man who once protected me was long gone. Vivian stepped forward, her eyes brimming with fake tears. “If Evelyn doesn’t bless our union, I…” Before she could finish, Dominic’s fingers tightened—a silent command. “Say it.” I bit my lip until I tasted blood, forcing myself to speak. “Congratulations on your marriage. May you have lasting happiness.” His hand loosened, but his eyes lingered on me with something unreadable in their depths. The reception dragged on, the buzz of toasts and laughter fading into dull background noise. As guests began to disperse, two burly men in black suits appeared behind me, shoving me toward a small storage room. A rough push sent me crashing to the floor, my knees slamming against concrete, pain shooting through my body. My hand touched something wet and foul—saliva from that filthy dog now crouching in front of me, the source of my public humiliation. I pounded on the door, my voice growing hoarse. “Let me out!” Dominic’s voice penetrated through, cold as winter wind. “Stay put and think about what you’ve done. After Vivian is settled, I’ll decide what to do with you.” Then, hurried footsteps broke the silence outside. “Mr. Reid! The hospital just called… they say the elder Mr. Reid won’t make it…” Dominic’s response came slow and deliberate, punctuated by the sound of a kick. “He was jogging in the garden this morning. You’re telling me he’s dying?” Fear surged in my chest. I pounded harder, blood seeping from my torn palms, but I didn’t stop. “Dominic, please… let me see Grandpa Silas!” Only receding footsteps answered me. Despair consumed me. I collapsed on the floor, time blurring into a haze. Finally, a janitor pried the door open. I rushed out half-crazed, racing toward the hospital. When I reached the second floor, muffled sobs pierced my ears. My legs weakened. A gurney rolled past, covered with a white sheet over a motionless figure. “Grandpa Silas…” My mother Clara lunged at me, slamming me against the wall. My head cracked against it, warm blood trickling down my neck. “If you hadn’t dragged us into your scandal, Mr. Reid would still be alive!” she shrieked. “You’re a curse on this family—get out!” I opened my mouth but couldn’t make a sound. Relatives pushed me toward the exit, their stares more cutting than any blade. Outside, rain poured down, soaking my wedding dress until it clung to me like lead. Numbly, I pushed open the door to the home Dominic and I shared. Vivian’s sugary giggle greeted me. “I don’t want that,” she cooed. In the living room, Dominic was feeding her a spoonful of food, his eyes tender with a gentleness I hadn’t seen in years. Seeing me standing in the doorway, drenched and shivering, he froze, his smile vanishing. “Vivian will be staying here during her pregnancy. You’ll take on the role of housekeeper. After the child is born, I’ll consider fulfilling our engagement.”

Silas had just left, yet they acted as if nothing had happened. My throat tightened, tears blurring my vision. “Do you know that Grandpa Silas—” Dominic didn’t even look up, his tone as casual as if ordering coffee. “What about him? Oh right, Vivian hasn’t eaten. Go make her some soup.” I hadn’t eaten a bite since morning, my stomach aching with emptiness. But I swallowed my words and silently walked to the kitchen, where I prepared a pot of soup. When I placed the steaming bowl on the table, Dominic snatched the spoon from my hand, gently blew on it to cool it down, and brought it to Vivian’s lips. “Careful, it’s hot.” His voice was tender and affectionate—like a dull knife, slowly tearing my heart apart. Once, when I was sick, he had cared for me with the same attentiveness. But since Vivian appeared, all his warmth had been reserved for her. I took a shaky breath and turned to leave, but Dominic’s voice froze me in place. “Bring your violin.” I stood stunned, my fingers trembling. “That violin means a lot to me. I…” He cut me off, his brow furrowing with impatience. “The best obstetrics team in the country doesn’t come cheap. The hospital director’s grandson is learning to play, and your violin would be perfect for him. It’s just a violin. I’ll buy you a dozen more.” My ears buzzed as the world around me fell silent. That violin wasn’t just an instrument. It was an Italian antique that Silas had gone to great lengths to acquire from a European auction for my seventh birthday. Now that he was gone, it was the last thing he had left me. Vivian sobbed, her voice quivering, “It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for keeping this baby… don’t make Evelyn uncomfortable.” Dominic’s expression darkened. He wiped away her tears, whispering reassurances, then barked at a maid, “Go to the music room and bring the violin.” I gripped the stair railing, my knuckles turning white. Moments later, the violin that held twenty Christmases worth of memories—its wood marked with the passage of time—was carelessly placed in Vivian’s hands. She smiled secretly, a flash of satisfaction I wasn’t supposed to see. “This violin is beautiful…” Then, she deliberately let it slip from her grasp. The violin crashed to the floor, shattering into jagged pieces. I fell to my knees, clutching the remains, my fingers trembling as they traced the broken strings. A heart-wrenching scream erupted from my throat. Dominic yanked me up by the arm. “Enough! It’s just a broken violin, is it worth this hysteria? Vivian didn’t mean to. What are you making such a fuss about?” Vivian cowered behind him, wiping her tears as she said, “Now that the violin is ruined, what about the hospital director…” Dominic gave me a cold glance, putting his arm around her as they headed upstairs. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.” Their figures disappeared around the staircase, leaving me to stare at the shattered pieces of my past. Even my last connection to Silas was destroyed, beyond repair. I dragged myself back to my room like a ghost, only to freeze at the sight before me. The swing in the corner—its ropes neatly cut—lay on the floor like discarded trash. My space, once a sanctuary, was now filled with brand-new baby items. Dominic had converted my bedroom into a nursery. That swing… he had made it with his own hands, promising this room would always be my castle. Yet in an instant, to please his new love, he had torn it down himself. The door was kicked open. Dominic burst in carrying Vivian, his face like storm clouds. “Evelyn, what did you put in the soup?” Vivian let out a shrill wail, her face pale as she clutched her stomach. “It hurts… my baby…” I instinctively moved toward her, but Dominic shoved me to the ground. My head hit the coffee table, stars exploding before my eyes. A small white bottle rolled out of my pocket, landing at his feet. He picked up the bottle, reading the label, his face contorting. “Abortion pills? You tried to kill Vivian’s baby?” “They’re not mine!” I grabbed his pant leg, shaking my head frantically. “I don’t know where they came from!” A slap silenced me, the stinging pain swallowing my words. Dominic carried Vivian out, giving me one last ice-cold glance. “Evelyn, you’ve gone too far. If anything happens to this child, you’re finished.” In the hospital room, I knelt in the corner, my knees long since numb. Dominic stayed by Vivian’s side all night, only breathing a sigh of relief when she finally woke up. “You’re okay,” he whispered, his voice gentle with relief. “The baby is fine too.” Vivian’s hand moved to her stomach, her voice trembling, “I thought we lost it…” His expression immediately hardened. He carefully adjusted her pillow, but when his gaze swept toward me, it was cold as steel. “Come here. Apologize to Vivian.” Just then, my phone vibrated, the screen lighting up with a message: [Sir Reid’s funeral is being held today.] My heart clenched. I gritted my teeth, struggling to stand, but my legs gave out and I collapsed back onto the floor. Dominic’s fists tightened, his jaw clenched. “Stop playing the victim. It won’t work on me. Apologize, or you’re not going anywhere.” Humiliation swept through me like a raging fire, hotter than any pain I’d ever felt. Tears slid down my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I choked out. His hand paused for a moment, but he didn’t look at me. “Go to the church. Pray for Vivian and the baby’s safety.” With that, he sat back down beside her, gently feeding her soup with a spoon, his tenderness completely erasing my existence. Their world was all whispers and loving gazes, as if I had never existed. I staggered to my feet and stumbled into the biting cold of the street. My only thought was to get to Silas, to say goodbye one last time. My phone vibrated, jarring in the silence. I answered with trembling hands, my breath catching. “Ms. Crowe? I’m the Crowe family driver. Today is Sir Reid’s funeral. I’m here to pick you up.” Minutes later, a black sedan pulled up slowly in front of me. The driver handed me a bottle of water. “You look pale. Have some water.” I took it, tears welling up as I clutched the bottle tightly. Silas was gone. The person who loved me unconditionally would never come back. The cold water slid down my throat, but my vision blurred, my thoughts foggy. I vaguely noticed the scenery outside becoming unfamiliar, but my tongue felt too heavy to speak. When I opened my eyes again, before I could make sense of my surroundings, a heavy weight pinned me down. The stench of tobacco and alcohol hit my nostrils as hot breath grazed my neck. My clothes were half torn away. A rough hand covered my screams. The man grabbed my chin, grinning maliciously. “Mr. Reid said if you behave, I might go easy on you.” Cold terror washed over me like a tide, drowning me completely. For Vivian’s sake, Dominic had pushed me into hell. Tears blurred my vision. My hands desperately searched behind me until they gripped a rusty iron bar. I squeezed my eyes shut and swung the bar with all my strength, smashing it against his forehead. Once. Then again. He hadn’t expected me to fight back. Blood ran down his face as he collapsed to the ground, motionless. Clutching my torn clothes, iron bar in hand, I stumbled out the door. Blinding light greeted me, and I blinked in confusion. Not far away, the golden sign of Reid Group gleamed coldly in the daylight. Three Christmases ago, on a stormy night, I got lost in this factory. Dominic had searched the entire city like a madman to find me. I could still remember how he held me in his arms, soaking wet and eyes full of worry, swearing he would never let me go again. Now, he had deliberately trapped me here. I stared at the twisted old tree by the parking lot, a bitter laugh rising through my tears. With trembling fingers, I dialed a number. “Please… save me…” ***** Videos of the factory fire were already spreading wildly online. Dominic’s assistant Liam rushed in to report. “Mr. Reid, something’s happened! The factory’s on fire, and Ms. Crowe’s last location shows she was inside!”

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On the second Christmas and Mother’s Day since I began closed research at a national security agency, I requested a video call with my mother, Malia Frazier. “Bryson, when are you coming back?” Malia asked. I noticed that Malia had aged considerably, and what upset me more was the bruise at the corner of her eye. Looking closer, I saw she was wearing old clothes, and her hair was thin and gray. Just as I was feeling concerned, I received a message from the caregiver Thea asking for money. She said Malia needed a new wheelchair, costing $200,000. But Malia had never had problems with her legs, so why would she suddenly need a wheelchair? I called the nursing home, but the director impatiently said it was normal for elderly people to need wheelchairs at Christmas time. Sensing something was wrong, I pulled some strings to access the nursing home’s surveillance footage, and what I saw filled me with rage. I returned to my dorm from the lab and quickly called Malia. “Bryson, when are you coming back? I miss you.” Seeing Malia’s red eyes on my phone screen, I felt instant guilt. Malia had raised my sister and me on her own, and now I couldn’t personally take care of her because I was busy with work. Suddenly, I noticed Malia cautiously glancing outside. The bruise at the corner of her eye was obvious, which alarmed me. I realized something was wrong. The clothes Malia was wearing were ones I’d seen a few Christmases ago. They had a large hole in the waist back then, which was why she had put them away, but now she was wearing them again. Thinking Malia was just being frugal about buying new clothes, I fought back tears and said, “Mom, don’t wear old clothes anymore. I have money now, so you don’t need to save. Be good to yourself. I earn money for you to spend.” She shook her head hesitantly and was about to speak when there was a distinct noise from her end. The next second, the video call was abruptly disconnected. A moment later, Thea called me. “Mr. Frazier, did you just call Mrs. Malia Frazier? Perfect timing. Please transfer some more money. Mrs. Malia Frazier has run out of health supplements, and she’s also asking for a new wheelchair.” I frowned and asked, “What happened to the $300,000 I sent last month?” “Mr. Frazier, my friend happens to be in the medical equipment business. He’s willing to sell us the best wheelchair at the lowest price, just $200,000.” Are wheelchairs that expensive now? And I remembered Malia had always been healthy, so why would she suddenly need a wheelchair? Sensing something was wrong, I immediately called my sister, Nicole Frazier. The background on her end was noisy, like she was in a bar. Nicole impatiently said, “Isn’t it normal for elderly people to have difficulty walking? If Mom wants it, just buy it.” A voice came from her end: “Nicole, what are you doing? Come back and continue…” Before I could hear clearly, the call was suddenly disconnected. I stared at my dark phone screen, deep in thought. Nicole’s attitude now was completely different from when she initially suggested moving Malia to the nursing home. Back then, she said she would take care of our mother carefully, but Malia wasn’t doing well, while Nicole was out partying at bars. Remembering news about elderly people being abused by caregivers in nursing homes, I felt extremely uneasy and immediately asked my supervisor for leave to go home. On the way, I searched online for the medical equipment company Thea mentioned, but found nothing beyond its name. So I contacted a friend in the industry. Soon, I received my friend’s reply. Reading the message, my face immediately darkened. [This is a shell company disguised as a medical equipment seller, but they actually sell insurance. This company used to be a housekeeping service and made the news for scamming consolation money.] I quickly asked: [What’s consolation money?] My friend replied: [It’s when employers hire caregivers for elderly people, and if the elderly person dies accidentally, they must pay the caregivers their full wages. Some caregivers deliberately cause the death of elderly people to scam this money.] I immediately sensed danger. But Thea was introduced by Nicole, who had vouched for the caregiver’s character. I had even paid over $2 million in entrance fees for the nursing home Nicole recommended, with annual fees calculated separately. Nicole had handled everything. Could she have deliberately arranged for a malicious caregiver to look after our mother?

The news of my return home was communicated by the government to the official institutions in my hometown. The mayor immediately planned to send special security personnel to receive me, but I declined. I parked my car near the nursing home and entered alone, without letting the security guards follow me. It was lunchtime, and I remembered Malia’s room number. After notifying the doorman, I entered the residential area of the nursing home. But Malia wasn’t in her room. Only a luxurious coat lay on the bed. I picked it up and examined it carefully—it wasn’t Malia’s size. Suddenly, I heard familiar coughing from the staircase. Malia had a lung condition; my sister and I had fallen asleep to that cough since childhood. I immediately ran to the staircase and found Malia curled up asleep in the narrow hallway. In that moment, my heart shattered. I approached carefully, but before I could call out to her, she jolted awake. Malia looked at me warily, as if I were a stranger. Confused, I asked, “What’s wrong, Mom?” Malia stared at me dully, as if she couldn’t see me clearly. I quickly took her hand and repeated, “Mom! Don’t you recognize me? I’m Bryson.” Only then did she finally recognize me. She reached out to touch my face, tears sliding down her deeply wrinkled cheeks. “Son…” I pressed my face against her palm. “Yes, it’s me. I’m back.” Malia had lost so much weight, and her temples, which hadn’t had much gray hair before, were now completely white. Fighting back tears, I asked, “Mom, why are you sleeping here?” Malia hesitated, about to answer when a strange woman’s surprised voice came from behind us. “Mr. Frazier, you’re back? Why didn’t you inform us in advance?” I noticed Malia shrinking at the sound of this voice, looking frightened. I turned around to see Thea standing there with a coat hanger. I demanded, “What kind of care is this? Did I hire you to leave my mother sleeping on the floor?” Thea was visibly flustered for a moment, explaining awkwardly, “Mr. Frazier, you misunderstand. Mrs. Malia Frazier felt hot and insisted on sleeping on the staircase.” She shouted at Malia, “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Malia Frazier?” Malia nodded quickly, but never dared to look at her. I found this strange. Malia had always been kind, but never this submissive. Thea suddenly approached and grabbed Malia’s hand. “Mrs. Malia Frazier, let me help you inside.” At that moment, Malia gripped my hand tightly. I noticed Malia’s entire body trying to avoid the coat hanger in Thea’s hand. If I hadn’t been supporting her, she would have fallen. I pushed Thea away. “I’ll stay here with my mother. You can go.” Thea withdrew her hand but kept staring at Malia. I could feel Malia’s hand trembling in mine. Thea added, “Mrs. Malia Frazier has been talking nonsense lately. Don’t mind her if you hear anything strange.” My dissatisfaction peaked, and I said impatiently, “Whatever my mother and I discuss is none of your business. Leave!” Thea left awkwardly. Once I was sure she was gone, I carefully held Malia’s hand. “Mom, why were you sleeping on the staircase? And what happened to your face?” But Malia just shook her head fearfully, unwilling to say anything more. I could only change the subject. “Has Nicole visited you recently?” At the mention of my sister, Malia’s face froze for a moment, but she nodded. “Yes, Nicole visits me often.” Yet her expression didn’t soften at all as she said this. Seeing her like this, my heart sank. I suddenly realized that Malia wasn’t being properly cared for. If that was the case, I’d rather take an ordinary job and stay by Malia’s side to care for her myself.

I helped Malia back to her room to rest. On the way, I noticed she was limping badly, walking with great difficulty. It seemed she really needed a wheelchair. But I felt the wheelchair issue wasn’t so simple, so after Malia fell asleep, I decided to find the director to ask about it. The nursing home’s layout was confusing, and after walking for quite some time, I ended up near the kitchen. Nicole had handled our mother’s admission paperwork. She had exaggerated how wonderful this place was, but I hadn’t inspected it myself yet. Since I had the opportunity now, I decided to walk in and take a look. The kitchen wasn’t as clean as I had imagined. Garbage and dirty water were visible everywhere on the floor. The stoves were covered in grime, looking like they hadn’t been cleaned in ages. Mealtime at the nursing home was early, and several cooks had already started preparing food. When they saw me enter, they mistook me for a staff member, and one cook told me to hurry and take the prepared dishes to the dining hall. I was about to explain when I noticed the food intended for the elderly residents was placed right next to an opened bag of rat poison. I couldn’t contain my anger and pointed at the rat poison, demanding: “How can you put food for people next to rat poison?” The cook responded impatiently: “Better than finding rat droppings in their food, right? Besides, they’re about to die anyway, so what does it matter if they die from this?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “How can you be so cruel? Don’t you have parents of your own?” The cook immediately became angry and told me to get out, cursing me for meddling. Several people pushed me out of the kitchen, which made me even more furious. I immediately called Nicole. Suppressing my anger, I asked, “Nicole, have you been visiting Mom?” Nicole yawned, her tone dismissive: “Of course, I just visited Mom yesterday. This nursing home is so nice, I’d like to move in myself. Why do you always worry about so many things? Why don’t you give me more money so I can hire more people to take care of Mom?” Finding this ridiculous, I hung up and decided to take Malia away today. On my way back, I passed by the elderly residents’ lounge downstairs, where the scene once again infuriated me. An elderly man was tied to a wheelchair, crying out in pain, while a caregiver sat with legs crossed, browsing on her phone. When annoyed by the noise, the caregiver skillfully slapped the old man. Then she took a dirty diaper from a nearby trash can and pressed it directly against the old man’s face, forcibly silencing him. I couldn’t help but intervene: “What are you doing!” The caregiver heard my voice, immediately released her grip, and turned to look at me with terror on her face. I yanked her away and untied the ropes binding the old man to the wheelchair. While I was distracted, the caregiver quickly ran away, but I had already memorized her face. After being rescued, the old man continued sobbing. Seeing him made me wonder if my mother had suffered the same treatment. I immediately asked, “Do you know Malia who lives in Room 6100 on the sixth floor? Is this how caregivers normally treat all of you?” The old man struggled to speak: “I don’t know Malia. I only know there’s an elderly woman on the sixth floor whose son supposedly works for the government. Once I saw a caregiver beating her mercilessly with a clothes hanger. She was covered in blood.” I pressed further: “What about her family? Has no one ever visited her?” The old man tried hard to remember: “I think a wealthy-looking woman came yesterday. But it seemed like she was there to demand money from the old woman.” Hearing this, I had to clench my teeth to suppress my rage. I had transferred so much money to Nicole every month, asking her to look after our mother and buy her gifts. Was this how she was treating our mother? Finally, I called Calvin, the police officer waiting outside: “Calvin, come in. I need your help.” Calvin quickly found me using the tracker on my body. I said, “Calvin, please find a technician to retrieve all the surveillance footage from this nursing home over the past two Christmases.” I needed to gather crucial evidence for the police. This nursing home’s behavior was absolutely despicable, and I couldn’t let them off easily. The technician quickly sent over the videos. I located the footage from Room 6100 and witnessed something that filled me with rage. On the night Malia first moved into the nursing home, Thea dragged her to the bathroom and locked her inside just because Malia’s coughing had woken her up. As I continued watching, I discovered that Thea frequently beat and verbally abused Malia. Even when Malia cried and begged her to stop, she continued to assault the defenseless elderly woman. Not once did anyone intervene to stop this abuse. What broke my heart even more was that over the past Christmas season, my sister Nicole had only visited our mother once—yesterday. She even discarded her luxurious coat in disgust just because our mother had touched her sleeve. By the end of the footage, I was filled with rage and guilt. If I hadn’t taken time off to come back, I would never have known even if Malia had been tortured to death, and I would have continued sending them money. Our mother raised us, yet Nicole not only showed no gratitude but actively pushed her into this nightmare. I sent the surveillance footage to the mayor, then returned to the room to help Malia pack her belongings so I could take her home. Just as I reached the doorway, I heard Nicole’s shrill voice: “Why do you need so much pension money when you’re already living in a nursing home? Sign the papers now!” I burst into the room to see Nicole directing two male orderlies to restrain Malia and force her to sign. Malia’s face was streaked with tears, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Without thinking, I kicked the two men away. “Get away from my mom!” I shielded Malia behind me and glared at Nicole. “Is this how you take care of our mother when I’m not around?” Nicole looked terrified. “Bryson, why are you back so suddenly?” I roared, “If I hadn’t come back, what else would you have done to Mom? Steal her pension? You’re heartless!” She tried to defend herself: “I was just going to hold onto it for Mom’s sake.” I cut her off. “I’m taking Mom away from here, and I won’t give you another cent!” Nicole immediately panicked. “Bryson, have you lost your mind? Mom doesn’t have much time left. After she dies, this money will come to us anyway. What’s wrong with me taking some now?” I didn’t want to argue about such a ridiculous issue. I lifted Malia onto my back and prepared to leave. Then, I heard Nicole’s voice behind me: “That’s him! He’s causing trouble here. Don’t let him leave!” I felt disappointed and incredulous. Nicole had brought a group of thugs. She stood behind them, looking at me as if I were her enemy. Malia struggled to get down from my back, desperately trying to protect me. “Don’t hurt my son! Beat me instead if you must!” I held Malia tightly and stared coldly at Nicole. “Nicole, think carefully. If you do this, we’re no longer siblings.” Nicole stared back intensely. “You can leave, but only if Mom gives me the money.” “Absolutely not!” Nicole’s expression darkened. “Grab him. If he dies, I’ll take responsibility!” One man immediately lunged at me, but Calvin, who had been hiding nearby, suddenly appeared and pinned him to the ground. The group was startled by Calvin’s appearance and froze momentarily. Nicole quickly said, “Don’t be afraid. There are only three of them. Attack together!” With so many opponents, Calvin could only focus on protecting me. In my carelessness, I suddenly realized Malia was no longer on my back. I anxiously looked back and saw Nicole dragging Malia toward a window in the hallway. Malia, with tears in her eyes, said to her, “Nicole, I’m your mother…” “Only money is my mother!” Nicole snapped. As she finished speaking, the old security window behind Malia suddenly came loose. In the next second, Nicole, with a twisted expression, pushed Malia forward. Malia immediately fell out the window.

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