Category: English

In the third year of being Lucas Hartwell’s mistress, he asked me to serve Stella Renee, his first love who had just returned from abroad. To earn money for my sister’s treatment, I gritted my teeth and went. Stella found me an eyesore and sent me into the room of some Italian businessman. I called Lucas in tears, begging him to help. He told me to get lost. That night, my sister died in the hospital. Later, I was working as a painter in a small town when he showed up outside my studio, one arm in a cast, and just stood there. For three months. From autumn into winter. “I’m sorry. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it right.” I never expected that the man who had once used me as a stand-in would spend the second half of his life atoning for it, inch by inch. Until the moment I closed my eyes, he held my hand. “Wendy, in the next life, let me be the one who loves you first.” Wendy’s POV The day Stella Renee came back, the whole New York elite lit up. At the welcome dinner, she was the princess everyone fawned over. Draped in couture, smiling as she held Lucas’s arm. And me? I was Lucas’s “kept woman” of three years. Like a creature that couldn’t stand the light, I hid in the darkest corner of the banquet hall, knocking back glass after glass of ice water. My stomach cramped violently. Cold sweat broke out all over me. But I couldn’t leave. Lucas hadn’t said I could go, so I had to stay and wait – ready to be wallpaper, or a shield, for this golden couple at a moment’s notice. Midway through the evening, a message from Lucas appeared on my phone. “Come to the terrace.” Four words. No room for argument. I took a deep breath, set down my glass, and dragged my unsteady legs toward the terrace. I pushed open the glass door. The night wind hit me, sharp and cold. Lucas stood with his back to me. A half-burned cigarette rested between his fingers, its ember flickering red in the dark. He heard my footsteps but didn’t turn around. His voice was flat. “Stella’s heading to Milan for fashion week. She needs an assistant.” A sinking feeling settled in my chest. “You know how it is – she just got back, and I’m not comfortable with her being alone.” He turned around. His gaze landed on me, cool and detached. “Go with her. Take care of her for three months.” Take care of her? That was a nice way to put it. Stella Renee was Lucas’s everything. His untouchable first love, a girl who’d been spoiled her entire life. And I was the thorn in her side, the woman she blamed for stealing her place. Sending me to be her assistant was like throwing me to the wolves. “I’m not going.” I clutched the hem of my dress. Lucas seemed to have expected this. He flicked the ash off his cigarette, unhurried, his tone impossible to read. “Wendy. Think carefully.” He paused, then stepped toward me – slow, deliberate – until his tall frame loomed over me completely. “Lily’s targeted medication is due for renewal next month, isn’t it? Three hundred thousand a course. Self-pay, if I remember right.” My head snapped up. I stared at him. Lily. My little sister. My only weakness. Lucas knew it well. For Lily, I would give up anything – even the last scrap of dignity I had left. “You’re using Lily to threaten me?” I kept my eyes on his. “It’s a deal.” He reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair from my face. His fingertips were ice-cold. “You take good care of Stella. Make sure she comes home happy. I’ll cover Lily’s medication.” “And if I don’t go?” “Then stay here and figure out how much you can scrape together on your own.” He dropped his hand. The corner of his mouth curved into something cruel. “Wendy, you’re a smart girl. You know what to choose.” The night wind cut right through me. I stared at the face I had loved for three years, and felt nothing but a deep, unfamiliar strangeness. For that woman, he could push me out without blinking. He could use my little sister – the only person I had left – as a bargaining chip. “Fine.” It took me a long time to answer. “I’ll go.” Lucas smiled. But his eyes held no warmth at all. “Good girl.” He crushed out the cigarette, turned, and walked back toward the glittering lights of the party. He left me alone in the dark. I sank slowly to the ground, wrapped my arms around myself, and tried to stop shaking.

Wendy’s POV Deep autumn in Milan was the kind of cold that made you want to give up. Stella stayed in a penthouse apartment Lucas had arranged. All floor-to-ceiling windows, the whole glittering city spread out below her. I stayed in a storage room barely big enough for a single cot. No window. Being her “assistant” meant a lot more than making coffee. Three in the morning, and Stella wanted a specific dessert from a bakery on the south side of the city. I’d pull on my coat and fight the wind across half of Milan to get it. On set, if her coffee wasn’t hot enough, she’d pour it directly onto the back of my hand. Blisters would rise. I’d apologize and smile. Even her laundry. I hand-washed her lingerie, dried it, pressed it. One wrinkle, and she’d tear into me in front of everyone. “Wendy, why are you making that face?” Stella lounged on the sofa, swirling a glass of red wine, looking at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours. You think Lucas sent you here because he trusts you?” She laughed. “Don’t kid yourself.” She took a slow sip. “He sent you here to be my punching bag. Someone has to be, and girls like you are made for it.” I kept my head down and quietly swept up the broken pieces on the floor. The burn on my hand still throbbed. I didn’t make a sound. Three months. Just endure three months. As long as Lily gets her medicine, this is worth it. But Stella’s cruelty didn’t stop there. On the night of the fashion week closing gala, Stella made sure I was dressed as plainly as possible, bordering on frumpy, and positioned me one step behind her like a bag carrier. In the middle of the party, a heavyset Italian businessman in an expensive suit sidled up with a drink, his eyes crawling over me. “Miss Renee, and who is this?” Stella smiled behind her hand. “Oh, this is my assistant. She used to be Lucas’s… personal companion.” She tilted her head at him. “Interested, Mr. Rossi?” The man’s eyes lit up. He reached out to put his arm around my waist. “A woman of Lucas Hartwell’s? She must be something.” I stepped back and hit the champagne tower behind me. The whole thing came down. Glass and champagne everywhere. A shard caught my leg. Gasps. Laughter. I sat on the floor, looked up at Stella. She was smiling. Thrilled. Vicious. “Oh, how clumsy.” She pressed her fingertips to her lips in mock concern. “Mr. Rossi, it seems she’s in no shape to be good company tonight. Perhaps she should go up to your room and make it up to you?” In that moment, every drop of blood in my body went cold. I clawed my way up off the floor, shoved past the man reaching down to help me, and ran out of the ballroom. The cold air rushed into my collar, mixing with the sticky sweetness of spilled champagne. My stomach heaved. Back at the apartment, my hands shaking, I called Lucas. I wanted to tell him what Stella had done. I wanted to beg him to let me come home. Even if it meant giving up the money – even if it meant anything – I had to get out of this place. The phone rang for a long time before he picked up. “Lucas.” I was already crying. “Make it quick. I’m in a meeting.” His voice was flat. Impatient. “Stella, she tried to… she was going to send me to some man’s room. Please, let me come home. Please.” A beat of silence. Then a short, dismissive laugh. “Really, Wendy. Is this still your game?” I froze. “What?” “Stella texted me. Said you got drunk at the gala, made a scene, and broke something expensive.” His voice was full of contempt. “And now you’re calling to make up stories about her? Can you not let your jealousy run your mouth for five minutes?” “That’s not what happened-” “Enough.” His voice cracked like a whip. “You made a mistake. Stay there and think about what you did. If Stella doesn’t forgive you, you can figure out Lily’s medication yourself.” The call ended. I had no right to defend myself. Not in his world. Whatever I suffered, it would always be because I was jealous.

Wendy’s POV That night, I spiked a fever. I drifted in and out of consciousness. My phone kept ringing, relentless, like an alarm I couldn’t silence. I forced my eyes open. A number from a hospital back home was flashing on the screen. My heart seized. “Hello-” “Miss Staley! This is Dr. Morris, Lily’s attending physician.” The voice on the other end was urgent and panicked. “Something’s happened to Lily!” I was half-awake in an instant. “What? What happened to Lily?” “Sudden pulmonary failure combined with a severe rejection response. She’s in resuscitation right now. It’s critical. She needs emergency ECMO surgery and we have to get the imported medication started immediately.” “Save her. Whatever it costs, save her.” I rolled off the bed. My legs buckled. I grabbed the nightstand. “The issue right now isn’t just the cost. We need next-of-kin authorization to proceed with surgery. And the previous balance hasn’t been settled. The pharmacy won’t release the medication until it’s cleared.” His voice dropped. “Miss Staley, where are you? Can you come in?” “I’m overseas-” Tears were already streaming down my face. “Doctor, please just start the treatment. I’ll send the money right now. I’ll find a way.” I hung up and called Lucas. Once. No answer. Twice. Declined. Three times. Straight to voicemail. I sent voice messages, typed messages, anything. I would have gotten down on my knees if it would have helped. Lucas, please pick up. Lily’s crashing. They’re trying to save her. I won’t cause trouble anymore, I swear, please just help her. One call to the hospital. That’s all I need. I’ll do anything- Nothing. In desperation, I called Lucas’s assistant, Derek. It rang for what felt like forever. Finally, someone picked up. “Derek! Where is he? It’s an emergency. Someone’s life is on the line!” Derek sounded uncomfortable. “Miss Staley, Mr. Hartwell is… unavailable right now.” “Where is he? Put him on the phone-” “He’s… he’s with Miss Renee. They’re looking at engagement rings. He said he’s not to be disturbed.” Engagement rings. Everything left my body at once. Lily was fighting for her life. And he was picking out diamonds for the woman who had just tried to sell me to a stranger. “Derek.” My voice broke. “Just tell him – tell him Lily is dying. She’s really dying. Please-” There was a shuffle on the other end, then Stella’s voice, sweet and airy. “Who is it? Such a buzzkill.” “It’s Miss Staley. She says her sister is… critical.” Stella let out a small laugh. It came through the phone perfectly. “Again with this? She faked being drunk at the gala, and now she’s using her sister to pull Lucas back? He can see right through her. Tell me she’s not actually this desperate.” Then Lucas’s voice. Cold and flat. “Hang up. Tell her if she calls again, she’s done. Not a single cent.” The world went quiet. I was on the floor, my phone still pressed to my ear. I didn’t hate Stella. She was cruel, she was calculating – but she was what she was. It was Lucas I hated. For his coldness. For his blindness. For the fact that I’d spent three years loving him like he was worth it. I wiped my face and checked my bank account. Two thousand dollars. Everything I’d saved. Not even close to what Lily needed. Then I saw it. Stella’s spare watch, sitting on the coffee table in the living room. A gift from Lucas. Worth tens of thousands, left there like pocket change. In that moment, I wasn’t thinking about right or wrong. I was thinking about Lily. I grabbed the watch and walked out. I sold it on the Milan black market. Got fifty thousand euros. Wire transfer. Flight. Airport. I moved through it all like a machine – no thoughts, no feelings, just motion. Before I boarded, the hospital called again. I stared at the number until it stopped ringing. Was that the call that tells you it’s over? I refused to believe it. Lily was waiting for me. She’d said she wanted me to take her to Disney World. She’d said she was going to paint a hundred pictures. As the plane lifted off and the city shrank beneath me, I had one single thought: Lucas. If anything happens to Lily- I will make you regret this for the rest of your life.

Wendy’s POV The flight was over fourteen hours. It felt like a century. I landed in New York in the middle of a downpour. No umbrella. No luggage. I ran out of the airport and flagged down a cab straight to the hospital. The hallway smelled like antiseptic. The cold went straight to the bone. I sprinted to the ICU and found an empty bed. A nurse was unhooking a monitor. “Where is she? Where’s Lily?” I grabbed her arm. She flinched, then looked at me. Her eyes went soft and evasive. “Miss Staley…” “Where is Lily?” I was shouting. Dr. Morris stepped out of his office. He was holding a document. He looked at me and exhaled slowly. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Those five words fell like a hammer. “When…” I couldn’t hear my own voice. “Three hours ago.” He bowed his head. “We did everything we could. If the medication had arrived even half a day earlier, there might have been a chance. But…” But. But the man who had promised to handle everything was on the other side of the world, picking out diamonds. But the call that could have saved her life was hung up. I didn’t cry. I didn’t feel anything, actually. My body felt weightless – like one breath of wind could scatter me. “She’s in the morgue.” Dr. Morris handed me a small box. “She was holding this until the very end. Wouldn’t let go.” Inside was a cheap piece of candy in a crinkled wrapper, and a folded piece of paper. I unfolded it. Two figures in crayon. A girl with long hair holding hands with a shorter girl. A lopsided castle in the background. Underneath, in unsteady handwriting: “Wendy don’t cry. I don’t hurt anymore. Be happy, okay?” A single tear hit the paper without warning. I clutched that drawing in the middle of the hospital corridor and screamed. My Lily. My little sister. The only person in this world I had left. She was fourteen years old. She never got to grow up. She never got to see what was outside. And I killed her. My stupidity killed her. My delusions about Lucas Hartwell killed her. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Lucas Hartwell. The name blinked on the screen. How fitting. When Lily was alive, he disappeared. Now that she’s gone, he decides to call. I answered. Put the phone to my ear. “Wendy! Who do you think you are?” His voice was furious. “Stella says you stole her watch and ran back? Get back here and apologize. Now.” “Lucas.” My voice was very calm. “I took the watch. I’ll pay you back.” “Pay me back? With what? Have you lost your mind? You think I won’t cut Lily off completely-” “It doesn’t matter anymore.” I looked down at the tear-soaked drawing in my hands. A broken smile crossed my face. “She’s dead.” Silence on the other end. A few seconds passed. Then his voice came back – frustrated, dismissive. “Wendy, that’s not funny. You’re really going to stoop to this just for sympathy? I’m done with you.” Done with me. He wanted to talk about disappointment? “Believe it or don’t.” I didn’t want to give him another word. “Lucas, we’re finished. We’re even.” I hung up. Pulled out my SIM card. Held it over the trash can. Snap. It wasn’t just a SIM card I broke. It was three years of crawling, and humiliating myself, and loving someone who never saw me at all.

Wendy’s POV It only took two days to handle everything. I had Lily’s ashes scattered in the river. She had always loved water. She used to say water was free – it could go anywhere it wanted. Now she was finally free. I went back to Lucas’s house in New York – the gilded cage that had held me for three years. His scent still hung in the air. Cedar and tobacco. Something I had once found intoxicating. Now it made my stomach turn. I didn’t take a single thing he’d given me. The designer bags. The jewelry. The couture. All of it belonged to the “canary” he’d kept – none of it belonged to me. I took Lily’s things. And my sketchbooks. Before I left, I set a bank card on the coffee table. A thousand dollars I’d made selling paintings. Not even close to the value of Stella’s watch. But it was the statement I needed to make. I didn’t owe him anything. From this day forward, there was nothing between us. I had barely walked out the front door when a black car came tearing up and screeched to a stop right in front of me. Lucas got out. Dark expression, red in his eyes – he’d clearly just gotten off a plane. He saw my suitcase. Something crossed his face. Then a hard, humorless laugh. “What is this, Wendy? Running away from home?” I stepped around him and kept walking. He grabbed my wrist. Hard enough to feel like he’d snap the bone. “I’m talking to you. You steal something, you walk out, and you think that’s it? Who gave you permission?” “Let go of me.” I looked at him. “Give back the watch. Then come with me to apologize to Stella.” He was already pulling me toward the car. “If you just admit you were wrong, I can let this go. Lily’s medication-” Crack. The sound of a slap rang across the quiet street. Lucas’s head snapped to the side. He went completely still. He turned back slowly. His eyes were dark and dangerous. “You just hit me?” “Lucas. I told you. Lily is dead.” I held his gaze. Each word separate and deliberate. “Three days ago. While you were picking out that ring for Stella, she was dying in the ICU.” “When you hung up on my call for help, she was in agony.” “When you told me I was lying for attention – her body was already cold.” His pupils contracted. The color drained out of his face. “What did you say?” His voice shook. His hand fell open. “That’s not possible. Dr. Morris said she had more time.” “That was before!” I pulled free and stepped back, putting distance between us. “You killed her, Lucas. You are the reason she’s gone.” The words landed like four blades, straight to the center of him. He stumbled. White as paper. “I didn’t…Stella said you were pretending. She said…” “And you believed her?” I laughed and cried at the same time. “Of course you did. She’s your whole world. And what am I? Just a liar. A nobody.” I steadied my breath. “I never hated you for loving her. I only hate myself for loving a man who was too blind to see what was right in front of him.” I picked up my suitcase. “Don’t come near me again. When I look at you, I feel sick.” I walked away. I didn’t look back. Behind me, I heard him move. Then his voice broke open in a way I’d never heard before. “Wendy! Stop! Where are you going?” I kept walking. “I’m not letting you leave! Wendy, come back!” A cab was coming down the street. I raised my hand. Got in. In the rearview mirror, I watched the man who had always seemed so untouchable standing at the curb, abandoned and frantic, his phone pressed to his ear. He’d never reach me. The Wendy who had circled him like a satellite, quiet and desperate and small, had died in that rainy night, along with Lily. What was left was just a shell. Hollow with grief and fury. The cab merged into traffic. The city sparkled on, indifferent. I closed my eyes. One last tear slipped free. Goodbye, Lucas. Goodbye to these three wasted years.

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My fiancé is the youngest professor at the university. Thoughtful, gentle, everyone admires him. When I was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and had only ten days of memory left, he brought a female student home. That night, through the crack in the door, I watched her throw herself into his arms. He didn’t push her away. The next day, I asked about the lipstick stain. He just smiled and called it a misunderstanding. On the third day, someone on a motorcycle knocked me down. He said I was being paranoid. On the fourth, she poured scalding soup on my hand. He stepped in front of her. “How did you become so cruel?” Today is the fifth day. I have less than seventy-two hours of memory left. He just took a call at my hospital bedside. “Don’t be scared, Erica. I’ll be right there.” After he left, I pulled out the IV needle and wrote on the first page of my notebook the last sentence I’ll ever remember in this life. “Don’t forgive Richard.” Later, I really did forget him. But he stood at my door holding roses, his eyes red. “Please forgive me.”

Lauren POV Richard is the youngest university professor. He has a fiancée with memory decline. That’s me. On the tenth day of my countdown, he brought Erica home late at night. “Professor, coming over so late… won’t we wake Lauren?” Erica’s voice was soft, laced with just the right amount of concern. “It’s fine,” Richard whispered. “She took her medicine. She’ll sleep through anything.” But I hadn’t taken my medicine tonight. I lay still in the darkness of the master bedroom, eyes closed, listening to every sound outside the door. On the nightstand sat today’s diagnosis: early-stage Alzheimer’s, rapidly deteriorating, irreversible. The doctor said my remaining lucid time could be counted in days. Conservatively. In the last ten days of my memory, Richard chose to fill them with someone else. Fine. At least before I forgot everything, I could finally see for myself what this “gifted but troublesome” student of his actually looked like. The bedroom door eased open. Richard tiptoed in and grabbed the thin blanket at the foot of the bed. Out of habit, he leaned over to tuck me in, his movements as gentle as always. But when he got close, the sharp bite of whiskey mixed with some unfamiliar vanilla perfume invaded my lungs without warning. Suffocating. Smothering. He turned and left, leaving the door ajar behind him. The warm yellow light from the living room immediately sliced through the crack, falling precisely on the open diagnosis report on the nightstand. But he didn’t see it. His attention, his gaze, even his heart had long been occupied by someone else. Their conversation drifted in without any restraint. “I’m hungry…” Erica’s voice was sweet and soft, dripping with practiced coquettishness and a familiarity that felt almost natural.. “Make me something to eat, okay?” But how would Erica know that Richard hadn’t cooked in years? Back in college, we were drowning in student loans. So poor we could barely scrape by. Richard went to class during the day and worked restaurant kitchens at night and on weekends. The dirtiest, most exhausting jobs. He’d come home with his hands bleached white from soap, wrinkled, his palms and fingertips covered in burns and knife cuts. With those hands, he earned money cent by cent, saving it all to put both of us through our degrees. I wanted to work part-time at a coffee shop, but Richard refused. Under the dim streetlights, he took my hand and kissed each finger one by one. “Lauren,” his voice was low and hoarse, “we were both struggling before. Now that we’re together, I’ll bear the hardship alone. You’re going to be a painter. You need to take care of your hands.” Throughout those four years of college, my somewhat rough hands were actually nurtured white and delicate by him. Later, the night he got his doctoral acceptance, we squeezed together on our apartment’s narrow balcony, sharing an employee meal sandwich Richard had brought back from the restaurant. Eyes red, he swore that once he became a tenured professor and life got better, he’d never set foot in a kitchen again. Never touch those greasy fumes. “What do you want to eat?” In the living room, Richard’s voice came with a laugh, cutting through my memories. His tone even carried a hint of performative tenderness. “I’m going to show off my skills.” He was casually, almost proudly, dissecting that period of hardship for another girl to hear. The one he’d sworn to bury. But I still remembered. Not long ago, when my gastritis flared up in the middle of the night and I was drenched in cold sweat from the pain, Richard’s eyes went red with worry. He stayed up all night. Weakly, I asked if he could make me some oatmeal. He was quiet for a long time. Finally, he just held me, his voice tired and hollow. “Lauren, I really… don’t want to do those things anymore. I’ve forgotten how.” Forgotten? From the kitchen came the sounds of efficiency. The pan heating. Butter sliding in with a sizzle. Every sound was like an ice-tempered blade, precisely piercing my eardrums and heart. He hadn’t forgotten. He was even still skilled at it.

Lauren POV The aroma of the omelet quickly filled the air, mixed with Erica’s undisguised delighted praise. “Richard, this smells amazing! You’re so talented!” She no longer called him Professor, but used his name directly. “Eat up,” Richard’s voice carried a barely perceptible tenderness. “After you finish, remember to organize the data from those papers.” “Richard,” Erica’s tone held some dissatisfaction. “Tomorrow’s the weekend. Can’t you let me rest?” “Behave.” Richard’s voice was full of laughter, carrying a flirtatious tone. “Your Lauren is still sleeping.” I let out a cold laugh. So he still remembered I was in the room, but this reminder sounded more like part of their flirtation. That aroma and those laughs were like fine needles, stabbing every inch of my skin with unbearable pain. I propped myself up, wanting to get out of bed and shut that crack of light completely, isolating everything outside. The moment I sat up, my gaze pierced through the door crack and froze on the living room. Under the warm yellow light, Richard’s hand came to rest on Erica’s head, gently tousling her hair. His gaze was soft, focused, filled with that particular tenderness, the kind you give a small creature that trusts you completely. “You cook for Lauren every day? She’s one lucky woman.” Erica’s words came out muffled, her mouth still full. Hard to tell if it was envy or jealousy. Lucky? I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d eaten something he actually cooked himself. “You talk too much.” Richard’s scolding was light, weightless. Even as he said it, he reached out and brushed back a strand of hair that had nearly fallen into her plate. His fingertips grazed her earlobe. But the look on his face I’d never seen it. Not even when we were most in love. The suspicion I’d been suppressing, afraid to examine too closely, was now brutally nailed before my eyes by this crystal-clear scene, beyond any argument. Why? How could a man who kissed me good morning every day and said “I love you” before bed so easily give his love to someone else? A violent headache struck without warning. A voice screamed in my mind: Get out there! Throw her out! Now! But my body felt as heavy as if trapped in a quagmire. Even my fingers were difficult to move. I desperately gathered strength to prop myself up, finally making it to the door, my hand landing on the cold doorknob. Just as I was about to force out words, Erica suddenly stood up from the sofa. Like an uninhibited cat, she sprang up without warning, pressed her hands on Richard’s shoulders, pushed him back against the sofa cushions, then leaned down and kissed him. My breathing stopped. I couldn’t see Richard’s expression. I only saw that he didn’t refuse. His hand paused in the air for a moment, then slowly, gently settled on Erica’s waist. Five seconds, ten seconds… Time stretched infinitely, each second a slow execution of my nerves. That hand on Erica’s waist even tightened slightly, drawing her closer to him. So there was no need for speculation, no need for excuses or justifications. The answer was laid bare before me. Perhaps there was no need to rush out anymore. This home that once belonged to him and me would soon have a new mistress. And what I was about to lose wasn’t just my memory. I quietly closed the door. I slumped against it, sinking to the cold floor. No hysteria, no sobbing. Only cold, hollow despair spreading from the deepest part of my heart, freezing my blood. Trembling, I pulled open the deepest drawer of the nightstand, fumbled for the white pill bottle, unscrewed it, poured all the pills into my palm, and swallowed them all at once. In the last instant before consciousness was completely swallowed by endless darkness, my extremely blurred hearing caught the nauseating sticky sounds of kissing from outside the door, and their lowered conversation: “Mm… Richard, just now, what was that sound?” Richard’s voice was slightly hoarse, mixed with the soft rustle of fabric. “Probably just the wind.”

Lauren POV When I woke up the next day, I found myself lying on the floor. That diagnosis page had somehow fallen beside my hand. According to the doctor, starting today, I had only nine days of memory left. I hadn’t died. I’d just been unconscious all night. But why was last night’s scene still branded in my mind, so painfully clear, as if I’d never forget it? I didn’t dare open the door, didn’t dare verify whether any traces of last night remained in the living room. Just then, Richard pushed the door open. I hastily shoved the diagnosis under the bed. “Lauren, why are you sitting on the floor?” He spoke while bending down to lift me up and place me back on the bed. He took my hand and lowered his head to kiss the back of it, his new stubble scratching my skin with a slight itch. “I’m sorry, I pulled an all-nighter on the project yesterday. Did you sleep well? What did the doctor say? Is there anything you want to eat? I’ll have the housekeeper prepare…” A string of concerns rushed at me. For a moment I felt dazed. Through the door that wasn’t fully closed, I saw the living room was as tidy as usual, as if everything last night had been nothing but an absurd delusion from my illness. “The doctor said I’m doing well.” I lowered my eyes, my voice as soft as a murmur. “Today… I want to eat breakfast you’ve made.” Richard ruffled my hair, his tone carrying some helpless reproach. “Lauren, look-you forgot again… I’ll have the housekeeper make it for you, okay?” “Never mind.” I pushed away his hand, but the motion froze mid-air. Below the collar of his shirt, a vivid lipstick mark stabbed at my eyes. “What’s this?” My finger trembled as I pointed at it. “It’s nothing.” Richard’s tone was casual. “Yesterday, Erica, that graduate student I’m always talking about, we were celebrating the project’s progress and she accidentally smudged it during a group hug. She even insisted on washing it for me, but she’s still paying off her student loans. How could she afford dry cleaning? I’ll introduce you to her sometime. You might like her.” “What if I don’t like her?” I heard my voice turn cold as ice. Richard first froze, then pulled me into a tight embrace, his chin resting on top of my head, his voice muffled with deliberate reassurance. “If you don’t like her, you don’t like her. She’s really… just my student anyway. You just need to like me.” “Richard,” I said calmly, leaning against him, “let’s break up.” Richard’s brow furrowed, as if he couldn’t process how the topic had shifted so quickly. “Why? Because of that lipstick mark? That was a misunderstanding.” I turned my face away, avoiding his scrutinizing gaze, my voice dropping. “Last night I… dreamed you were cheating on me.” Richard’s whole body suddenly stiffened, as if instantly frozen. But the rigidity lasted only the briefest instant. Then he let out a breath, his tense shoulders sagging slightly. Next, he released me, his eyes rapidly reddening, his voice tinged with panic and pain. “How could that be? Lauren, it was just a nightmare. I told you I’d love you forever, only you… Don’t say things like that anymore, okay? You know I can’t bear it…” “But I’ve forgotten.” I lifted my head, looking into his eyes, enunciating each word. “Richard, someday I’ll completely forget that you love me, even forget that I love you. While I still remember, let’s part on good terms.” What I actually wanted to say was: while I haven’t yet caught the lie in person, while I haven’t yet shredded this last bit of dignity, let’s part on good terms. I didn’t want my final memories to be filled entirely with pain and degradation. “Don’t…” Richard’s voice trembled uncontrollably. He pulled me tight again, his arms straining with force, almost as if trying to meld me into his bones and blood, as if that could somehow keep me. “We’ve been together so long. I can’t live without you, and you can’t live without me, right? If you forget, I’ll just stay by your side to remind you, a thousand times, ten thousand times…” His embrace was so forceful, his voice so choked. It sounded deeply devoted. But the faint, sweet vanilla-fruit scent clinging to the shirt pressed against my cheek, thread by thread, pervasive and inescapable, seemed to silently remind me: last night was not a delusion, not a nightmare. It was evidence that he’d embraced someone else. Perhaps Richard still loved me, but he’d also fallen in love with someone else.

Lauren POV Richard stayed home all weekend. But whenever the person saved as “Dummy” sent a message, he’d reply instantly. When the phone rang, he never delayed. “If you’re busy, just go to work. I don’t need company.” I said with my back to him. Each time he returned from a call, Richard would placate me. “Lauren, Erica is eager to learn. As her professor, I can’t discourage a student’s enthusiasm, right?” “I’ll take you to campus on Monday,” he paused, “and introduce you to her properly.” I hummed in agreement. That Monday, I went early. After graduation, I’d never returned to our alma mater. Everything on campus had changed. Those corners that once held memories of Richard and me had long since vanished. I had no choice but to go to his office to wait. Before I even reached the door, muffled laughter drifted out, mixed with that familiar, coquettish voice. “Professor, how can you call me dumb!” It was Erica. I stopped outside the half-open door. Inside, Erica was leaning intimately close to Richard’s side. Then, she quite naturally picked up the iced Americano from his desk and took a sip through the straw he’d used. The next second, as if chilled, she pouted and whimpered. Richard immediately leaned in, naturally reaching out to wipe the coffee from the corner of her mouth, the gesture as intimate as if treating a lover. “Not cold anymore, not cold anymore.” For the first time, I realized a person’s happiness could actually be heard in their tone. I pushed the door open. Erica jumped up in alarm, stumbling backward and landing on the floor in her panic. Richard didn’t help her. He walked straight toward me, somewhat reproachfully. “Why did you come early?” “I shouldn’t have come? Did I interrupt you two?” My voice was ice-cold. But Erica had already put on a bright smile and rushed over, trying affectionately to link her arm through mine. “Lauren, Lauren! I finally get to meet you!” This was my first time meeting Erica face-to-face. She was indeed young and beautiful, full of vitality. But the scent of her perfume mixed with that night’s scene, replaying over and over in my mind, made me nauseous. I pushed her away and forced out a smile. “I’ve heard Richard mention you often too.” “Really?” Erica exclaimed, but her eyes gleamed as she looked at Richard. “Then what does the Professor usually say about me?” Though she spoke to me, her gaze remained entangled with him. I was merely a prop in their flirtation. “He says you study hard…” I paused, looking at her. “But I need to remind you that asking academic questions doesn’t require cuddling up to your professor. And as a student, sharing a straw with your professor isn’t appropriate. That’s a basic boundary.” Erica’s face went pale. She shrank behind Richard, her voice trembling. “Lauren… do you not like me?” “Lauren!” Richard suddenly called out my full name sharply, his face darkening. “You’ve gone too far. She’s just a student. The culture here is more open-everyone’s casual. That’s all.” “A student?” I laughed, pointing at the coffee. “A student would use your straw? You’d wipe a student’s mouth?” “She just wasn’t careful! We didn’t think that much about it!” Richard’s voice rose, tinged with the irritation of being exposed. “Do you have to be so aggressive?” “Not careful?” I grabbed the coffee and hurled it violently in their direction! The cold, dark brown liquid splashed out from the cup, splattering everywhere. Richard’s first reaction was to turn and shield Erica in his arms, not caring that he got soaked, not caring about his expensive shirt now a mess. Then he escorted Erica out of the office. “I’ll treat you to dinner another time to make up for this. Don’t hold it against your Lauren-she’s sick and in a bad mood.” Richard sighed softly, crouching down to start cleaning up, his voice weary. “Lauren, the doctor said you can’t get agitated.” Again. Using my patient status to frame me, turning all accusations into unreasonable outbursts. “Richard. That night, in the living room, I saw you two kissing.” Richard’s hand picking up glass shards suddenly froze. “I saw it.” I repeated. Richard didn’t look up. He continued gathering the fragments, his voice somewhat impatient. “Are you done making a scene? My conscience is clear.” My conscience is clear. What a wonderful phrase-my conscience is clear. All the indignation, anger, and pain felt like punching cotton in the face of those four words. Since Richard wasn’t willing to part amicably and wasn’t willing to speak plainly, why should I keep entangling myself?

Lauren POV I don’t know how I walked out of that office or how I crossed that campus corridor-once familiar, now so strange it made my heart panic. I only remember forcibly suppressing the rage and humiliation that threatened to explode in my chest, each step like walking on knife points. Until I crossed that solemn campus gate and cold air hit my face. The world seemed to have its mute button pressed, followed by a massive, heart-pounding sense of emptiness that swept up from my feet like a tsunami, instantly swallowing me whole. The anger disappeared. The humiliation evaporated. Even the nauseating scene from the office minutes ago became blurry. I stood on the bustling street like an empty shell. Who am I? Why am I here? What just happened? Where am I going? Where is that place called “home”? Panic crept up my spine in fine threads. With trembling hands, I reached for my phone in my pocket. My fingertips touched only darkness-it was dead. I looked around in confusion. Traffic streamed past, voices buzzed, everything distorted and distant. A violent dizziness struck. I staggered. Just then, a sharp engine roar approached from far away. A heavy motorcycle, like an out-of-control beast, shot past my side. The rearview mirror violently scraped my arm. The massive impact made me lose balance completely, throwing me heavily backward. The back of my head struck the cold, hard curb with a dull sound. Searing pain exploded. My vision began to spin and darken. The noisy world rapidly lost color and sound. As consciousness sank completely into darkness, I used my last bit of strength to look toward that motorcycle. On the back seat, a figure turned back. It was Erica. She lifted the edge of her helmet, chin tilted slightly up, a triumphant curve on her lips. That Erica-the pure and sensible student in Richard’s mouth-had hit me and driven away. I don’t know how long passed before consciousness was dragged back by the pungent smell of disinfectant and vague pain. I struggled to open my eyes. It took a while for my vision to focus on the pale ceiling. A warm, moist sensation came from the back of my hand. A bit itchy. I turned my head slightly. Richard was collapsed at the bedside, tightly gripping my hand. He looked terrible-hair disheveled, heavy dark circles under his eyes, stubble covering his chin, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, face still streaked with undried tears. Tears were dripping one by one onto the back of my hand. Sensing my movement, Richard’s head snapped up, his bloodshot eyes instantly blooming with joy. “Lauren? You’re awake? How do you feel? Does your head still hurt? Are you uncomfortable anywhere? You…” He spoke incoherently, his voice terribly hoarse. His last question was asked cautiously, tinged with enormous fear. “Do you still remember… who I am?” Looking at his face, now written with exhaustion, I felt only hypocrisy. Somewhere in my chest came a delayed, dull pain. I pulled at the corner of my mouth, letting out an extremely soft, cold sneer. “What a shame,” I heard my own dry voice say, “I still remember.” “Thank God! Lauren, you still remember…” Richard suddenly bent down and pulled me into his arms. His arms trembled as he crushed me against him, as if trying to press me into his own body. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. Let’s not fight anymore. Never again. The doctor said hitting your head might affect your condition. I was terrified, Lauren. I really can’t lose you…” His embrace was fierce. His voice broke. They say hugs are love’s highest form. In that moment, my hatred for him seemed to crack, burned open by that embrace. Grievance. Resentment. The last shreds of love. All of it surged toward the crack, desperate to spill out. I almost hugged him back. Almost believed in this warmth. Almost pretended the pain never happened. My hand lifted, just slightly. Fingertips trembling. Almost touching him. Then a sharp, piercing ringtone shattered the warmth of the hospital room. Richard’s body tensed almost imperceptibly. A reflex. He let go of me and pulled his phone from his pocket. When he answered and the screen lit up, I saw the caller ID clearly. Little Dummy. That nickname cut right through me. Like ice. I still remembered everything. How Erica threw herself at him. How they were together in the office. How on the back of that motorcycle, Erica turned back at me with that triumphant, venomous smile. “I have something to deal with here. Erica will come by later…” Richard turned to tell me. “It was Erica,” I cut him off, my voice flat, no ripple at all. I watched his face as he turned back. The flicker of irritation at being interrupted. “She was the one who had someone hit me.”

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I was an excellent internal medicine doctor, but my mother Judy, who was the hospital director, promoted James—the son of her first love, John—to department head instead. James secretly beat and verbally abused me, and even refused to admit my critically ill father to the hospital. After Dad died, Mom praised James even more. “James is the backbone of our hospital. I hereby announce he is my successor!” But later, when James killed the supervisor’s wife through surgical malpractice, Mom Judy pinned the crime on me. I raised my scalpel triumphantly and said: “That’s right, I was the one who performed that surgery!” Today was the big day for James’s promotion to head of internal medicine at Grace Harmony Hospital. Many colleagues gave me pitying looks. But before I could feel disappointed, my neighbor called to tell me Dad had suffered a sudden heart attack. In the emergency room, I was preparing to change clothes to operate on Dad when James came in with security guards and pushed Dad away. I desperately protected Dad and demanded to know why they were doing this. James’s eyes were full of venom: “Torres, you’re just a junior doctor—you’re not qualified to perform surgery. What, are you so desperate for a promotion that you want to practice on your own father?” The security guards looked at me with contempt, accusing me of being an unfilial son. Seeing Dad’s pained expression, I frantically dialed Judy’s number. It wasn’t until the tenth call that she finally picked up, taking her sweet time. After hearing my request, she said without hesitation: “Don’t you think I know your father’s situation? Don’t think putting on this pathetic act will fool me.” “The hospital equipment suddenly broke down today, so we’ve suspended admissions for heart patients. Thank goodness James stopped you in time, or you—you useless waste—would have caused major trouble for our hospital!” “James is your superior. You must follow his decisions in everything. If you dare defy him, don’t blame me for firing you on the spot!” Her tone was cold, but I could still detect a hint of gloating satisfaction. I knew these were all excuses she made up. What was broken wasn’t the equipment—it was her heart. Then James took a phone call, summoned more security guards, and had them carry Dad to the hospital entrance and dump him there. I used to be the most skilled physician in the hospital, saving countless lives. But now, I could only watch helplessly as my own father’s life slowly slipped away, powerless to do anything. By the time I transferred Dad to the nearest hospital, I was told it was already too late. Dad gripped my hand, tears of regret streaming down his face: “Torres, it’s all my fault for trusting Judy back then. I held you back from achieving success. I’m so filled with regret…” “Listen to me—while you’re still young, transfer to another hospital quickly. Don’t let Judy bury your talent…” Watching Dad die with such resentment, I could no longer suppress my grief and broke down sobbing. But I couldn’t transfer hospitals yet, because I had to watch them destroy themselves! Judy used to be a small-time nurse at Hospital A. When she learned that Dad, as the director’s son, was working at the grassroots level for training, her desire for power and status was instantly ignited. She abandoned her childhood sweetheart John and used every trick in the book to pursue Dad. Simple and honest Dad had never experienced such passionate pursuit and soon fell for her. After marriage, Dad defied everyone’s opposition and insisted on using the family’s resources to help Judy rise to the position of hospital director. But she turned around and abandoned Dad. When she next appeared, she was brazenly going on intimate outings with John and his son. She even arranged jobs for both of them at the hospital—one as head of the security team, the other as an attending physician despite just graduating. At that time, I had already accumulated three years of surgical experience at the hospital, with countless successful cases, and had just been appointed as an attending physician. But as soon as she became director, she demoted me to junior doctor. Even though I had a master’s degree from a prestigious university, Judy insisted on supporting James, who only had a vocational diploma. No matter how much Dad tried to persuade her, she ignored him and transferred me to the records room to do menial work. All the hospital’s quality resources were allocated to James. Though everyone complained privately, no one dared speak up publicly. To cover for James, Judy even assigned the most experienced professor to be his assistant. Meanwhile, I—who used to need appointments booked half a year in advance—could only sit alone in the empty storage room, nursing my sorrow. A senior colleague who had mentored me couldn’t bear to see me wasted like this, so along with other colleagues friendly to me, they went to confront her. The next day, they were all fired from the hospital. Each one was a backbone member of the hospital, yet they kept hitting walls when looking for new jobs. Later I learned that Judy had spread rumors in the industry that they had lawsuits over patient deaths, so no one dared hire them. From then on, I became isolated and helpless in the hospital.

James began coming to harass me with John, periodically locking me up and beating and berating me. Once, when Judy passed by the door, I desperately called out to her for help. To my shock, she gave me a look of disgust and walked away without looking back. With Judy’s tacit approval, James came to find me more and more frequently. “Torres, you clearly know Judy doesn’t like you and deliberately targets you. Why do you insist on staying here?” When I didn’t respond, he flew into a rage and encouraged John to really hurt me. “If you know what’s good for you, get the hell out of here. Otherwise, I’ll beat you up every time I see you until you’re disabled!” From that point on, seeds of hatred toward the three of them took root in my heart. Until Dad died, those seeds shot straight to my head, ready to burst forth. After handling Dad’s funeral, I went to the hospital in a daze. As soon as I entered, I saw everyone in chaos. I learned that today was the day for the supervisor’s wife to have heart surgery. The lead surgeon was none other than the current department head, James. The surgery wasn’t particularly difficult, and with the professor assisting and supervising, the success rate should have been over ninety percent. But James, being incompetent, got nervous and his hand shook. He accidentally cut a major artery, causing severe blood loss in the patient. After examination by several professors at the hospital, the supervisor’s wife was deemed beyond saving. At this point, everyone in the hospital was terrified and at a loss. The supervisor was an influential figure in the state and even at higher levels. Offending him would be tantamount to pushing the hospital toward destruction. Just then, two security guards dragged me away with my eyes covered and mouth gagged. In the darkness, I felt someone dressing and undressing me. After I heard the door lock, I removed the blindfold to find myself standing in scrubs in an operating room. A patient lay silently on the hospital bed. After checking the file, I confirmed she was the hospital’s current hot potato—the supervisor’s wife. Voices came from outside the door. James stamped his feet anxiously: “Judy, you have to save me! The surgery didn’t fail because of me—it’s because the supervisor’s wife suddenly moved, that’s why I accidentally cut the blood vessel!” “Dad, please beg Judy to save me. I’m your only son—can you bear to see me spend the rest of my life in prison?” John patted James reassuringly: “Don’t panic. Hasn’t Judy already sent in the scapegoat? Once the supervisor sees that scene with his own eyes, no one will suspect you!” Judy’s voice sounded very composed: “Don’t worry. You’re closer to me than my own son. The hospital is locked down tight now. With me here, I absolutely won’t let anything happen to you.” “However, even with Torres taking the fall, our hospital’s reputation will still suffer some negative impact.” John lowered his voice: “I have a foolproof plan. Later we’ll quietly transfer Torres and the supervisor’s wife to the small clinic next door—a classic bait and switch!” “John, you’re brilliant! This way our family can continue living happily together!” “Dad, that’s a great idea. Time’s tight—let’s get moving!”

Hearing them gathering people to come in, I suddenly realized this operating room was a room within a room that only Dad and I knew about. By pressing a switch, I could open a hidden chamber. Just before they unlocked the door, I successfully transferred the supervisor’s wife and closed the hidden chamber door. The supervisor’s wife’s breathing was weak. Time was of the essence. Though a second surgery carried extremely high risk, a doctor’s job is to snatch lives from death’s grasp. As long as there was a shred of hope, I wouldn’t give up easily. I worked up a sweat in the inner chamber, while the monitor simultaneously showed what was happening in the outer room. A group of people rushed in and stood frozen in shock at the empty operating room. John’s face darkened: “What’s going on? Are you sure it was this room?” After receiving unanimous confirmation from the security guards, Judy roared: “Search! Go search now! Turn the entire hospital upside down if you have to. I refuse to believe a useless waste and a corpse can just vanish into thin air!” James collapsed on the floor wailing: “It’s over! It’s over! If we can’t find them, will I be taken away and executed? Dad, I’m so scared!” John helped his son up, his face showing some impatience: “Calm down. Even if the sky falls, your mother and I will hold it up. Pull yourself together. Don’t fall apart before the final moment!” After Judy arranged the personnel, she came over to smooth things over: “Don’t scare the boy. He’s held up very well until now. If it were that useless Torres, he’d probably have jumped off a building already.” Her bias was evident in every word. She always acted like she wanted to praise James to the heavens. Those who didn’t know would think James was her son. I calmly wielded my scalpel, focused on the operation. No matter how chaotic it was outside or how loud the hospital alarm system blared, nothing could affect my concentration. Fortunately, the hidden chamber was fully stocked with emergency supplies. After two harrowing hours, the surgery finally ended. But the supervisor’s wife still hadn’t completely escaped danger and needed constant monitoring. After sending a message, I left the hidden chamber amid the chaos. It wasn’t until someone screamed that everyone noticed me calmly walking among the crowd. John and the security guards immediately surrounded me, looking relieved. “Torres, you botched the supervisor’s wife’s surgery. Now the whole city is looking for you. I advise you to turn yourself in voluntarily—maybe you’ll get a few years off your sentence.” I was about to speak when Judy led the furious supervisor toward me. “Supervisor, I deeply apologize about your wife. Our hospital will definitely compensate for all damages. As for the source of the surgical failure, it’s all because our Dr. Torres here lacks medical skill.” “Whatever you want to do with him, we have absolutely no objection.” Having successfully redirected the fire to me, only Mom and John’s people remained at the scene. From their various looks, I read contempt, indifference, and disgust.

The supervisor pointed at me but only took two steps before clutching his chest and being supported by someone. Judy glanced coldly at me: “Torres, get over here and apologize to the supervisor right now!” Seeing my calm demeanor, she rushed over and slapped me twice. “Don’t think that being my son means you can easily escape responsibility! As the hospital director, I will only lead by example and support what’s right, not my relatives!” She gave John a look, and John immediately had his men restrain my hands behind my back. A gleam flashed in James’s tear-reddened eyes: “A doctor’s duty is to save lives, but Torres, you dared to kill someone through malpractice! John, beat this murderer to death!” Pain shot through my hands. I frowned: “Are you planning to extract a confession through torture?” Judy picked up a scalpel in a rage, looking vicious. “You conscienceless bastard! With so many witnesses present, you still want to deny it!” “Pin down his hands. A villain like this can never be allowed to harm other innocent patients again.” “Today, in front of the supervisor and everyone here, I will eliminate you—this scum with no medical ethics—for society!” The security guards held my hands out to her. I started to panic. A doctor’s hands are equivalent to our lives. If they’re damaged, I’ll be cut off from medicine for the rest of my life. I struggled desperately. Just as I was about to break free, John and James personally came over to restrain me. Four large men held me firmly in place. The next second, sharp pain shot through my hands. Blood splattered onto Mom’s white coat, but there wasn’t a trace of heartache on her face. I couldn’t help but shout: “You already caused Dad’s death—do you want to destroy me too?” Judy paused, then quickly recovered. “Your father died because of his own bad luck. What does it have to do with me? No matter how much you beg today, I will carry out this punishment to the end!” After several more stab wounds, I said trembling: “Stop! I admit it! I performed that surgery! Stop now!” But amid everyone’s cheers, Judy seemed not to hear and grew more and more excited. I don’t know how much time passed, but my hands had gone numb with pain, blood pooling on the floor. Just as John was about to hand me over to the police, a nurse pushed a hospital bed over. “Honey…” A weak voice awakened the supervisor from his grief. He tremblingly walked over, and when he saw his beloved lying there, he broke down crying: “My dear! Thank God, you’re still alive!”

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“Diana, take Cecilia’s place. Go to prison.” When Damian said those words, he couldn’t even look me in the eye. Three years of marriage, and he’d worn me down from a proud heiress to the joke of our social circle. He bought Cecilia houses. Spent nights with her. Shielded her from everything. And yet he wanted me to take her place behind bars. I agreed. After I signed the divorce papers, I turned around and dialed 911. “I’d like to report a hit-and-run. Cecilia Martin fled the scene.” He caught up with me at the airport just as the security gate was slowly closing. “Diana! You lied to me!” I didn’t look back. Later, the truth came out. I heard he searched the world for me like a madman. I heard he finally saw that woman’s true colors. I heard he collapsed from kneeling outside my shop. I never went out. Not until someone pushed the door open. The man who once made me take the fall for Cecilia now knelt before me on broken porcelain, holding up a diamond ring. “Diana, can we remarry?”

Diana’s POV In the dim light of the reunion party’s private room, someone brought up old stories. A red-faced drunk swayed to his feet, wine glass in hand. “If you ask me, Damian is truly devoted!” “Back when Diana cheated and guilt-tripped him into a divorce, he actually drove through the night in freezing weather just to chase after her. If it were me…” Before he could finish, the chatter in the room died instantly. Several glances flickered in my direction. Damian’s fingers tightened around his wine glass. He immediately turned to look at me. I acted as if I hadn’t heard, simply raising my glass to drain the remaining wine. When Damian didn’t respond, the drunk grew bolder, chuckling as he continued. “If you ask me, Damian, you should have married Cecilia back then!” “Cecilia is so gentle and kind. If you two had gotten together, you’d have kids in school by now, right?” He finished with a suggestive wink at Cecilia in the crowd. Damian looked over. Cecilia sat in the brightest spot, wearing a simple white dress, her long hair flowing softly over her shoulders. The light made her look especially pure. She seemed flustered, biting her lower lip slightly. Time seemed to stretch and freeze in that instant. He looked at her. She looked back at him. Neither looked away first. In that silent gaze, a thousand unspoken words seemed to flow between them, or perhaps it was just the haze of alcohol. A full minute passed. “See! I knew you still have feelings for Cecilia!” The drunk let out a whistle, shattering the silence. Someone beside him went pale. They lunged to cover his mouth. “What are you talking about? Shut up if you’re drunk.” Only then did Damian seem to snap awake, quickly turning to look at me. I had already stood up. Without looking at anyone, I simply grabbed my purse from the sofa and walked toward the door. Damian instinctively stood up. His feet moved, as if he wanted to follow. In the end, he stayed where he was. When I got home, I took a long shower. The warm water rushed over my skin but couldn’t drive away the chill in my bones. I was towel-drying my hair as I walked out of the bathroom. It was already late at night. Finally, the sound of keys turning came from the entrance, followed by muffled voices and stumbling footsteps. The door opened. Damian was practically being carried in by Cecilia. He was very drunk, mumbling incoherently. “Cecilia, don’t… don’t go…” The man’s murmurs came in fragments, carrying unconscious dependence. Cecilia struggled to support him. Looking up and seeing me, she seemed not to notice my outstretched hand. Guilt and unease appeared on her face. “Diana, I’m sorry. Damian drank too much. The others asked me to bring him home. Let me help him to bed first?” I said nothing, withdrawing my hand and stepping aside. Cecilia helped him into the master bedroom. Rustling sounds came from inside. The man occasionally groaned in discomfort. The woman soothed him in gentle tones. After a while, Cecilia tiptoed out, nodded to me, and hurriedly left. The door closed again. The house returned to silence. I walked to the bedroom doorway without turning on the light. Using the light leaking in from outside the window, I watched the man sleeping on the bed. I walked over and sat down in the single armchair by the bed. I don’t know how much time passed before Damian frowned and groaned with thirst, instinctively reaching for the nightstand. In the past, whenever he came home drunk, I always left a glass of honey water at just the right temperature there. Tonight I hadn’t prepared any. His hand found nothing. His frown deepened as he propped himself up on his arms. His tone carried the impatience of a hangover and an air of entitlement. “Why didn’t you pour me water?”

Diana’s POV I didn’t answer, only looked at him. Damian seemed uncomfortable under my stare. Rubbing his throbbing temples, he sighed. “Today was an accident. I drank too much, so I had Cecilia bring me home.” “After all, you left early. I had no choice but to trouble Cecilia.” I remained silent. His patience finally exhausted, Damian’s voice grew heavy with anger. “I’ve already cut off all ties with her for you. The baby in her belly is gone too!” “Diana, what more do you want from me? Do I have to kill her before you’re satisfied?!” After saying this, he seemed to realize his words were too harsh. He looked away, his voice lowering with guilt. “Cecilia’s family helped me when I had nothing. Without her father’s support, I never could have gone from nothing to where I am today.” “Diana, didn’t you always tell me that people should repay kindness?” Those words were like a key, instantly unlocking the floodgates of memory and extinguishing the last light in my heart. I finally spoke. “You don’t need to explain. I understand everything.” Yes, I understood. I had believed every excuse like this in the past. So I could tolerate endlessly how he cared for Cecilia in every aspect of his life, often bypassing me, his wife. I could tolerate when I had a fever of nearly 104 degrees, curled up in bed burning hot, and he left without hesitation after receiving a call from Cecilia saying she was “scared because the power went out.” I could tolerate carefully dressing up each time, eagerly preparing to attend important events with him, only to receive his slightly apologetic “Cecilia will go in your place tonight. She’s new and needs more exposure.” I used to be a proud heiress with my own stubborn principles in relationships. I loved Damian, which was why I endured again and again. Each time I told myself that Damian loved me-he only pitied Cecilia, which was why he always sided with her. Until that time when I had another argument with him over Cecilia and went straight back to my parents’ house, but returned early because I was worried about his sensitive stomach. When I opened the door, I saw overlapping figures in the kitchen. He was still wearing his loungewear, and Cecilia’s skirt was hiked up. In that moment, I completely lost it. I smashed every expensive piece of porcelain I could see, rushed up and slapped Cecilia hard several times. I screamed at Damian to divorce me immediately, or I’d make this scandal known to everyone. I thought with this evidence, Damian would have to leave with nothing. But I never expected fate to deliver its heaviest blow so soon. My family was framed. The company had financial problems uncovered. My parents faced prison. They had poor health, years of chronic illness. With bodies like that, if they went to prison, they might not even survive the year. The once-glorious family empire collapsed overnight. All assets were frozen, all connections severed. With nowhere else to turn, I could only beg my newly divorced ex-husband Damian. At the time, after hearing my tearful plea, he barely lifted his eyelids. “Diana.” He called my name, but it was as distant as addressing a stranger. “I don’t know in what capacity I should help your parents. After all, we’re just divorced strangers now.” I knelt on the ground, clutching at his pant leg, begging him to remarry me. But he still wasn’t satisfied, his fingertips lightly tapping the table. He sighed, his tone troubled, but his eyes full of calculation. “You know your family’s situation is quite complicated. I don’t have enough authority to pull many strings. Many things are beyond my power.” “But I’m getting promoted at the end of the month. Then things will be easier.” “However, you should understand-infidelity really damages one’s reputation. It’s bad for me and for Cecilia.” I understood. Damian wanted me to take all the blame for the affair, to whitewash him and Cecilia. I finally said those words: “It was all my fault. Nothing happened between you and Cecilia.” My entire being seemed to have its spine removed, wilting instantly. And he finally bent down, pulling me into his arms, kissing my cold forehead. “I promise you, I won’t see Cecilia again.” Just like that, I carried all the insults and contempt from our circle and remarried him. While he became the devoted husband everyone praised, never abandoning his unfaithful wife, so loyal and honorable. Only I knew what sordid truth lay beneath this devoted performance. Perhaps Damian had some feelings for me-otherwise he wouldn’t have agreed to remarry and give my parents a lifeline. But the one he truly loved was always Cecilia, that heavy “debt of gratitude” he spoke of, his carefully calculated future. Just like today. He could let the whole world speak ill of me, but couldn’t stand anyone saying a bad word about Cecilia. I stopped looking at the man on the bed. Just as the silence in the bedroom was about to freeze the air, a shrill ringtone shattered it.

Diana’s POV Damian practically shot up, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up, showing the contact name as “Friend.” His expression changed. The lingering drunkenness and irritation were instantly replaced by urgency. He threw off the covers and got out of bed, his movements almost frantic. While hastily pulling on his jacket, he spoke rapidly to me. “My friend has an emergency. I need to go. I’ll be back soon.” I remained seated in the chair, unmoving, silent. I knew whose number that was. He thought he’d hidden it well, changing “Cecilia Martin” to this safe contact name, erasing all traces. He didn’t know-or didn’t care-that I actually knew everything. I just didn’t care anymore. Damian, fully dressed, walked to the door, then seemed to remember something and came back. He leaned down and affectionately kissed my forehead. “Wait for me.” His breath brushed against my skin, tickling. “I’ll be back soon. Tomorrow I’ll take you to meet the person in charge.” “Your parents’ situation-we need to talk face-to-face to have any room for negotiation.” After saying this, without another glance at me, he turned, opened the door, and his figure quickly disappeared into the dim hallway light. I slowly raised my hand, touching the spot on my forehead that still seemed slightly damp, and smiled. Be back soon? Every time he received a call from Cecilia, he said the same thing. But every time, there was a different reason for him to stay there. She was in a bad mood. She wasn’t feeling well. Her electrical circuit broke. She had a nightmare… I used to wait like a fool, from deep night until daybreak, from hope until heartbreak. Damian clearly knew I was more afraid of the dark than Cecilia. Because when I was young, my parents were busy with work and hired an irresponsible nanny. That woman locked me in a dark, damp basement for hours at a time. That terror of being swallowed by endless darkness was carved into my bones. Before I met Damian, I never dared sleep with the lights off. It was him, bit by bit, holding my hand and telling boring stories, who helped me through those endless nights. So that later, I finally dared to turn off the lights and sleep peacefully in our bedroom. But he seemed to have forgotten. He only remembered that Cecilia was afraid of the dark-one phone call and he’d rush over to be the “hero” who dispelled the darkness. The entrance became completely quiet. I stood up and walked to the window, watching the familiar car below light up its taillights and quickly drive away. We met at a charity gala. Across the noisy crowd, he saw me at a glance, and I happened to look back. That moment was just like a slow-motion scene in a movie. Friends beside me sneered that Damian was just a poor nobody with no background, hardly worthy of me. Even my parents firmly objected, afraid I’d suffer with him. But I was so foolish, so brave then. I threw myself at him without hesitation, moved into the shabby little apartment he rented. And he was truly good to me once, wholeheartedly good. When his salary was meager, he could hand it all to me without keeping a cent. He had no bad habits. Wherever he went, he reported to me, openly introducing me to everyone as “my wife, Diana.” He handled all the housework. Even after running around all day, coming home late at night, he’d draw hot water to wash my feet. The most heart-stopping time, I was taken hostage by criminals, my life hanging by a thread. He stepped forward without hesitation, offering to exchange himself for me. In the end, I was unharmed, but he took several stab wounds and struggled in the emergency room for three days and nights before barely surviving. With this life-risking devotion, he finally passed my parents’ test. In our family’s small garden, he knelt on one knee, offering all his savings. He was so nervous his palms sweated, his words clumsy but sincere. “Diana, I’m not good with fancy words, but everything I have is yours.” I cried uncontrollably, thinking I’d grasped the most solid happiness in the world. But what happened later? Later, this same man who once loved me like life itself gently explained to me when bringing Cecilia here. “Cecilia is a girl living alone. Dorms aren’t safe, and the environment is complicated.” Then he took almost all the savings we’d built together over the years. And he bought Cecilia a nice house. Cozy. Beautiful. The favoritism was so blatant, it was almost beyond belief.

Diana’s POV I did ask, question, and make a fuss. But every time, he looked at me with those eyes that once held nothing but love for me, earnestly. Then spoke that impeccable excuse. “Diana, without the support of Cecilia’s parents, I would have starved to death on the streets. How could I be where I am today?” “They’re like parents to me who gave me life. Cecilia is like my real sister. Don’t worry. The person I love most will always be you.” I loved him too much back then. Loved him enough to numb myself. Loved him enough to believe that lie, that gratitude and love are two different things. That bit of discomfort in my heart was forcibly suppressed by overwhelming love. Even after our first divorce, he still had the flower shop deliver a bouquet of my favorite white roses every single day without fail. When everyone misunderstood that I’d cheated, they thought Damian going to the flower shop every day to carefully select roses for me was so devoted and affectionate. But only I knew this relationship had finally rotted. Even though he agreed to remarry and promised not to have excessive contact with Cecilia. I knew they never truly cut off contact privately. Those changed contact names, late-night phone calls, occasionally glimpsed walks side by side. All silently mocking my self-deception. I thought, once my parents’ situation was resolved, maybe I should finally let go. I would fulfill them and release myself. I didn’t want to be caught between them anymore, enduring the slut-shaming day after day, living like a joke. I’d already written and submitted the divorce application. This time I’d leave with nothing-this house, this empire he’d built, I wanted none of it. Consider it payment for his help resolving the problem. After all, asking strangers for favors always requires paying a price. But Damian, once he left, didn’t return for several days. Calls went straight to busy signals or no answer. I tried finding him at his company but was politely stopped at the entrance. When I tried to ask around, those faces that used to fawn and flatter were now cold and distant. No one wanted to get involved. I even lost my mind and went to his rural hometown, only to find it overgrown with weeds from long neglect. Time passed anxiously, bit by bit. I forgot to count the days. Until I stumbled back to the city in a daze and received devastating news. My parents had been sentenced to ten years in prison, to be executed immediately. No delay, no cancellation, no room for negotiation. Damian never appeared. No notification came. I completely panicked. Like a madwoman, I called everyone everywhere, begging with a hoarse voice. But only evasions, dismissals, and silent hang-ups answered me. I couldn’t find him. That man who swore he’d help me, who said he loved me, had vanished like he’d evaporated from the world. No one helped me. I couldn’t even get visitation rights. After the massive panic came only numbness. I stopped looking for Damian. I returned to that empty, cold house and waited like a ghost. One day, two days… A month passed. Damian had no news. My parents’ side had no news either. The next time I heard about my parents, a prison guard delivered two small boxes. Inside were two handfuls of light, weightless ashes. The guard said my parents were caught up in a prison brawl. An inmate picked up a table and smashed it on them. Despite resuscitation efforts, they were declared dead. I didn’t cry. I accepted the boxes, set up a simple memorial altar. In the black-and-white photos, my parents’ smiles were still gentle. I lit candles and knelt on the cushion, staring blankly at the wisps of smoke. Just then, the door lock sounded. Damian had returned. He wore a light-colored casual outfit, his face showing contentment. He was even carrying a paper bag printed with a resort destination logo. Pushing open the door, he was obviously stunned. “Diana?” He spoke uncertainly, his brows knitting. “What are you doing?” I slowly turned my head. When I saw the displeasure on his face, the volcano I’d been suppressing finally erupted. I shot up from the floor. Rushed to Damian and, with all my strength, swung my hand viciously across his face! Smack! The crisp sound of slaps was especially harsh in the silent memorial hall. One after another, without rhythm, only pouring out hatred and despair. “Damian! You bastard!” I cried out, my voice broken and hoarse. “What did you promise me?! You said you’d help me! You’d save my parents!” “Where were you?! Where the hell did you disappear to?! My parents are dead! They’re dead, do you understand?!!” Damian’s face was knocked to the side from my blows, red swollen handprints quickly appearing. He was stunned by the beating.

Diana’s POV He tilted his head, taking several deep breaths. “Diana, calm down!” He grabbed my wrist as I swung again, his grip strong, painfully tight. “Listen to my explanation! I left in a hurry and forgot to explain in detail.” “About your parents-I inquired carefully later. They’re watching it closely from above. There’s almost no room to maneuver, it’s basically set in stone…” His tone was urgent, carrying an eagerness to shirk responsibility. “It just so happened the psychologist said Cecilia had serious emotional and mental problems from the abortion, with signs of depression. It would be best to change environments and relax.” “I had no choice. If something happened to her in that state, how could I face her deceased parents? So I took her away to clear her head…” He even sighed helplessly, as if bearing tremendous grievance and helplessness. “I know you’ve been anxious this whole time, but things have priorities.” “Cecilia’s situation was critical. Your parents’ matter was already settled.” “Besides, you can’t have children anyway. How could you understand Cecilia’s pain of losing a baby?” All my movements froze in that instant. I couldn’t help murmuring. “I don’t have children…” I looked at this man who once promised me a lifetime. His face still bore the red marks from my slaps, yet such heart-piercing words came from his mouth. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, crushed, every fragment stabbing into my flesh, the pain making it almost impossible to breathe. I wanted to cry out loud, to demand how he could say such things. But my throat seemed blocked by something. I couldn’t make a sound. Only my body trembled slightly, beyond my control. I dug my nails deep into my palm with all my might. I don’t have children… Yes, I could conceive once too. Who was it that, when he fought for his future at drinking tables, felt sorry for him fighting alone? Who drank glass after glass by his side, blocking drinks for him, navigating among all kinds of people? And who was it that, through years of such entertaining and alcohol erosion, gradually broke down physically and lost the qualification to be a mother? He now pitied Cecilia’s pain of losing a child-but what about my pain? What I lost was far more than an unborn child. It was my hope for a future family, a part of my body. He forgot. He forgot it all. My whole body shook violently. I raised my head and stared at Damian. Then I grabbed the water glass beside me and hurled it viciously at him. Damian was caught off guard as hot water splashed his face, choking him into stumbling backward. But this was just the beginning. I grabbed and threw whatever I could reach without caring. “Get out! Damian! Get out! Get out!!” I screamed. Damian dodged frantically while trying to stop me. “Diana! Are you crazy! Stop it!” In the chaos, I found a ceramic vase. It was a gift Damian gave me the first time he earned “big money” years ago. I once treasured it, displaying it in the most prominent place in our home. Now, I only found it disgusting. I raised the vase high with both hands and hurled it at Damian with all my life’s strength. Damian dodged to the side hastily. “Crash!!” The vase grazed his shoulder and flew past, missing him. But it struck solidly the figure who had just pushed the door open behind him. Immediately followed by a woman’s piercing scream and the dull thud of something hitting the floor. Time seemed to freeze for an instant. I gasped for breath, looking over. Cecilia pressed her hand to her forehead, staggering against the doorframe. Bright red blood seeped between her fingers. A delicate paper bag lay torn at her feet, its contents spilling out. Her face was pale as death. Tears sprang to her eyes, instant and real. Yet she still forced herself to look up into the room, her voice catching with sobs. “Sorry… Damian, Diana… I came at a bad time…” Damian turned around, absolutely furious. He spun around abruptly, strode up to me in a few steps, and before I could react, raised his hand and slapped me hard! Two extremely loud slaps, delivered with full force.

Diana’s POV I covered my face as blood seeped through my fingers. I looked at Damian’s back and smiled. “We’re completely finished.” But Damian didn’t turn around at all. He grabbed Cecilia’s wrist. “Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital.” He didn’t even glance at me. Just like that, supporting the softly sobbing Cecilia, he disappeared outside the door without looking back. The room became completely quiet. Only me, and that lonely paper bag lying at the doorway. I slowly walked over and bent down to pick it up. The bag’s opening gaped open. Inside was a pair of men’s underwear. Familiar style, familiar color. My fingers trembled. The paper bag slipped from my palm. The underwear fell to the floor too, like a glaring stain. I cried. At first silently, only my shoulders shaking lightly. Then I couldn’t suppress it anymore. I bent over and crouched down, burying my face in my knees, sobbing loudly. I don’t know how long I cried. Not until my throat was too hoarse to make sound and my tears seemed dried up did I fall asleep against the wall. In my dream was a night from many years ago. Damian clumsily climbed up to my family’s windowsill, carefully protecting a somewhat wilted bouquet of roses in his arms. Moonlight fell on his flushed face. He was so nervous his voice trembled. “I’m sorry, Diana. I can’t afford good ones now, but someday I’ll buy you all the roses in the city.”In the dream, I smiled as I accepted that less-than-fresh bouquet and gently tucked it into my hair, looking up at him. “You’ve already given me the most beautiful roses in the world.” The breeze was light then, and his eyes were bright. I truly believed we would go on like that forever. But dreams eventually end. I was awakened by the sound of the door opening. Curled up on the floor, I opened my eyes to see Damian walking toward me. His face showed fatigue, his eyes bloodshot. He silently bent down, picked me up from the floor, and gently placed me back on the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed. Only oppression remained between us. After a long while, Damian finally spoke in a low voice. “Diana, I never thought we’d become like this.” He reached out as if to touch my face, but stopped mid-air and finally withdrew his hand. “I was too impulsive yesterday. I apologize.” His voice was hoarse. “But you know Cecilia’s parents were kind to me.” “They died early. I’m all she has left. I can’t help but take extra care of her.” I slowly raised my eyes. “Cecilia doesn’t have parents…” My voice was soft. “What about my parents? They’re gone too, aren’t they? I won’t have parents who love me anymore either.” I paused, my breathing slightly trembling. “I trusted you so much, Damian. I placed all my hope in you, but you betrayed my trust.” Damian sighed and lowered his eyes. “It’s all my fault. Whatever anger, whatever hatred you have, direct it at me. Don’t do anything to Cecilia. She’s suffered enough already.” I looked at him quietly, as if truly seeing this person for the first time. For Cecilia, he could actually go this far. “Let’s divorce.” I heard my own voice. “I don’t want anything.” Damian’s expression changed drastically. He grabbed my hand tightly. “I can agree to anything except divorce.” “Diana, I love you. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t keep coming back, and I certainly wouldn’t have chosen to remarry you.” “Is this what you call love?” I laughed out loud. The atmosphere instantly froze. Just then, Damian’s phone rang. He answered. Cecilia’s panicked voice came through, full of tears. “Damian, I woke up in the hospital and didn’t see you. I was so worried, I tried to find you myself.” “But there was a rear-end collision on the road. I think I hit someone.” Damian’s expression instantly tensed. He stood up abruptly. “Don’t panic. Stay where you are. I’m coming right now!” He hung up and turned to look at me. “Wait for me at home. I’ll be back soon.” After saying this, without even waiting for my response, he turned and hurriedly left. I didn’t want to wait anymore. The story between us should have ended long ago. Since he wouldn’t leave, I’d do it myself. I picked up my phone, found the lawyer’s number, and dialed. When the call connected, my voice was unusually calm. “Hello, Mr. Lee. I want to retain you to handle my divorce.” “I’ll wait at home. Please bring the agreement when it’s ready.” After hanging up, I looked out at the darkening sky. This time, I would never look back. But the lawyer never came. Damian came first. When he pushed the door open, his face was haggard. Unshaven. Eyes threaded with red. He stood at the entrance to the living room, his voice raw. “Diana, let’s talk.”

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On our wedding anniversary, my wife Clara was at a bar kissing a male model. Her friends were even complaining on her behalf: “Clara, you can’t be such a pushover! You’re already CEO—why don’t you just dump that old man of yours?” Clara reluctantly let go of the male model, though his hand was still roaming over her thigh. “I’d love to! But I only got to where I am today because of him! He also holds half the company shares.” The male model’s eyes gleamed. “Have your friends gang up on him later. Get him drunk, then trick him into gambling his shares away while he’s wasted!” Everyone burst into laughter at that. Standing outside the door, I clenched my fists so hard they trembled. I’d been with Clara since we had nothing. Now that she’d made it big, she wanted to throw me away? Since she was heartless, don’t blame me for being ruthless. Today was our wedding anniversary. I’d made a whole table of dishes, wanting to celebrate with my wife. But the food went cold, and still she didn’t come home. Close to midnight, I received a message and address from a client. “Adrian, you’d better keep an eye on your wife. I just saw her fooling around with some guy in the men’s bathroom. The noise was so loud it made me blush.” In the photo, Clara was draped all over this man, her face showing pure satisfaction. I gripped my phone so hard I thought it might crack. Furious, I changed clothes and headed to the address. When I found the private room, what I saw through the glass door made my stomach turn. The room was thick with smoke—pure decadence. Clara was sitting on the male model’s lap. Every time she lost at dice, according to their bet, she had to do something intimate with him in various positions. The whole room roared with laughter. The male model was indeed young and handsome, wearing my custom-made suit. To please him, Clara had given him my clothes to wear while she put horns on my head. Just as I was about to kick the door open, the laughter inside suddenly stopped. “Sigh, you single people have it so good!” “Not like me—now that I’m married, I have to sneak around even when I’m cheating.” As soon as she said this, she planted a kiss on the male model’s lips. The pretty boy eagerly pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. They made out passionately as if no one else existed, while everyone around them acted like it was perfectly normal. “I’m telling you, Clara, you can’t be such a failure as a woman. You’re already the company CEO with thousands of employees depending on you.” “If you want to hook up with young, handsome guys, just dump that old man at home!” “Exactly! Look at me—I live so freely!” Clara reluctantly released the male model, but he slipped his hand under her skirt, clearly displeased. “I’d love to dump him for someone younger and hotter, but I only got where I am today because of him. Plus he holds half the company shares. If I dump him, he gets to take half the money.” The model’s eyes gleamed cunningly. “So that’s the only reason you won’t dump him!” “Easy then. Call him out here right now. You and your girlfriends can gang up on him, get him drunk, then when he’s wasted, trick him into gambling. You can subtly lure him into betting his half of the company shares.” “After all, he loves Clara so much. He trusts her one hundred percent and won’t suspect a thing.” At this, everyone laughed shamelessly.

Standing outside, I clenched my fists until they shook. What I saw and heard stabbed like knives into my eyes and scraped across my heart. Clara and I had been married for seven years. From having nothing to reaching today’s success, I’d borne all the hardships alone. Now her wings had grown strong. Now that she’d made it rich, she wanted to dump me for a young, handsome model. Since she was heartless, don’t blame me for being ruthless. My phone rang—Clara’s deadly call. I quickly muted it and walked away to answer. “Hey, Adrian, come to the bar and hang out with me.” Ha. She had no idea I’d been outside her room this whole time. “I’m sending you the address. Come quick!” After ending her call, I immediately called my private lawyer. “Prepare a divorce agreement for me. Clara leaves with nothing.” “What! Mr. Adrian, what’s going on?” Sensing my cold tone, he didn’t dare say more and simply did as I asked. I stood outside in the cold wind, smoking two cigarettes before turning back. Walking into the private room made my stomach churn, but I had to suppress my emotions and act oblivious. My arrival triggered a room full of sly, mocking laughter. What they were thinking right now was obvious. Clara straightened her clothes and stood up. Just like usual, she affectionately took my arm and acted cute. “Adrian, you’re finally here.” “I missed you so much!” She still reeked of another man. You don’t pick up that scent without intimate contact. Disgusted, I coldly pushed her away slightly. That male model had been looking at me with pure contempt and jealousy since I walked in. How dare he be jealous of me—she was my legal wife. Clara seemed startled when I pushed her away. “Adrian, what’s wrong? You look weird.” Because you disgust me. But I had to lie. “Nothing. My coat’s cold from outside. Don’t want you to catch a chill.” Clara smiled smugly, thinking I couldn’t live without her. “Oh Adrian, come sit!” “You’re always so busy, it’s hard to even see you.” “Since everyone’s free today, and it’s our anniversary, why not relax and have some fun?” The speaker was Yasmin, the woman who’d taught Clara how to cheat. I didn’t stand on ceremony. I walked over and sat down. “Yeah, I’m too busy. Managing such a big company alone—it’s more exhausting than being a dog.” Clara lounged around all day, leaving all the company affairs to me while she enjoyed the benefits. Now she wanted to trick me into losing my shares. Where in the world does that kind of calculation work? “Adrian’s finally willing to play with us.” Clara smiled mockingly, pulling the male model closer. “Adrian, this is my new assistant, Lucas.” Lucas greeted me with a challenging smile. I just nodded coldly. Clara didn’t care and sat down with him. Yasmin laughed and pushed the dice cup toward me. “Adrian, let’s play dice!” I looked up at them. They were dice experts, regularly destroying opponents at bars. But since I was already here, I had to see it through. “How do we play?”

“Honey, we’ll play easy—got to take care of my husband. Nobody bully him, okay?” “Yes ma’am!” “Never seen a woman who loves her husband more than you. You’re so considerate.” Clara leaned her head on mine. I stood up. “Then let’s go. If we’re playing, doing it outside would be more exciting. With so many witnesses, the atmosphere’s better.” Yasmin and Clara exchanged glances, then quickly agreed. In their minds, gambling outside meant even if they lost, they couldn’t back out with so many witnesses. We chose a table near the dance floor. Lucas sat with Clara, while Yasmin sat beside me. “Old rules—losers drink, plus a penalty.” “What penalty?” Yasmin grinned at Clara. “Make out with someone. But you can’t pick your own spouse.” At this, people nearby couldn’t help but come watch. I glanced coldly at Clara and nodded in agreement. The server brought over a case of alcohol. The bet was about to begin. I picked up the dice cup and shook it clumsily. My awkward movements made others sneer. “Don’t laugh at my husband. He’s such a good boy—he doesn’t really know how to play dice, so it’s normal.” As Clara defended me, she shook her dice cup with one hand while her other hand touched Lucas’s banana. Rage surged through me, but I held it back. “Ready?” “Adrian goes first!” I looked down at my five dice—three threes, one six, one four. “Five threes!” Yasmin: “Six sixes!” Clara: “Seven fives!” “Alright, calls are in. Open!” When the cups lifted, Clara had lost. She made a sad face as everyone jeered: “A bet’s a bet. Drink and kiss him.” Her friends all pointed at Lucas—giving her an excuse to cheat openly. “Honey, we can’t break the rules.” I smiled understandingly. “Go ahead!” “Haha, Adrian respects the rules too.” I pulled out a cigarette and lit it, smoking while watching Clara and Lucas make out. “Tsk tsk tsk, interesting. Gambling openly, then openly honoring the bet by kissing another man.” “And her husband’s sitting right there.” “Hahaha, it’s like blatant cheating right in his face. They really know how to play.” Yasmin glanced at those friends, who all laughed wickedly. To keep me from getting angry and leaving, Yasmin had Lucas join the game too. Now four of us were playing. “Let’s consider Adrian’s feelings, okay? No kissing this round. This time we bet drinks and money. Starting at three hundred thousand, six shots of hard liquor.” “You can bet money!” Those degenerate friends pulled out their expensive accessories as stakes. “Round two begins.” The dice cups hit the table. Calls rang out. Yasmin: “Four sixes!” Lucas: “Five threes!” Clara: “I’ll add one—six threes!” I glanced at mine—two threes. Since they all called threes, there must be some. “I’ll add one too. Seven threes.” “Good! Who are you betting on?” “Yasmin!” “Alright, open!” The cups lifted. They had no threes. Only I had two. “Hahaha, Adrian, you lost.” “You only have two threes—how did you dare call seven?” “Hahaha, they’re just playing him.” They were all experts who could signal each other with glances. They’d coordinated this, hadn’t they? Shot after shot of hard liquor went down, making my head grow heavier.

The gambling continued. I lost two more rounds, drank three full bottles of hard liquor, and lost a million dollars. “Honey, are you okay?” Clara looked at my slightly drunk state, the corners of her mouth constantly rising. This was their goal—get me drunk, then when I’m wasted, lure me into betting more in desperation, and then go for my shares. I don’t understand Clara. Why does a person’s heart change just like that? All these years of marriage, I gave in to her in everything, yielded to her, couldn’t bear to hit or scold her. Yet she conspired with her friends to scam me. “I’m fine. Continue.” Yasmin and the others started exchanging glances. Those looks clearly said: don’t let Adrian lose again—let him win a couple rounds so he’ll willingly bet his shares. I unconsciously clenched my fists. My chest felt blocked by a stone, making it hard to breathe. I sat up straight and continued shaking the dice cup. “Let’s start!” “What are we betting this round?” I laughed coldly. “Let’s go big. My limited edition luxury car outside—just picked it up a few days ago. As for you all, bet your subsidiary company assets?” “How about it?” Everyone exchanged glances, gasping sharply. I leaned back. “If you don’t want to bet, then leave. If we keep playing and I lose again, I’m done gambling.” They’d worked so hard to lure me into gambling. Walking away halfway would be pointless. Perhaps they were arrogant, thinking I was just a rookie who posed no threat. Clara shook my hand. “Honey, maybe bet something else?” “Ha, fine. We’ll leave right now then.” Clara fell silent. Yasmin’s husband stepped forward. “Bet! What’s there to fear?” “This kind of bet should be between men.” So it became me, Lucas, and Yasmin’s husband—three men gambling. Seeing us bet so big, the whole place quieted down. No more dancing, drinking, or picking up girls. Several hundred pairs of eyes surrounded us. The bet began. Yasmin winked at her husband. As if saying: Honey, let him win once—it’s fine. Next time when we bet for his shares, we’ll win it back. Clara will return it to us anyway. Nice eye contact. They could be actors. As for Lucas, he was betting his Cartier watch and a million in cash. The dice cups rattled. The room was so quiet you could hear the dice rolling. “Alright, calls are locked.” “Who goes first?” I glanced at my dice. “Three twos.” Lucas: “Five twos.” Yasmin’s husband: “Seven sixes.” “Open!” This round, they deliberately let me win. Lucas looked at Clara somewhat aggrieved. She reassured him with her eyes—it’s fine, she had plenty of money. “Haha, I won, honey!” I acted like an idiot, while they looked at me with pure contempt. “Oh honey, your luck’s turning! Let’s bet big.” “This is the last round. Let’s bet while the luck’s hot.” Yasmin’s husband: “Bet! I’m not afraid. Say it—what are we betting?” Clara smiled and pushed my hand. “Honey, put up your company shares and bet with him.” The whole place erupted: “Damn, betting that big! This is exciting!” “I didn’t come here for nothing. Forget the girls—I’m watching this bet.” I nodded drunkenly. “Whatever my wife says. But honey, you join too! If I’m going to lose my shares, I want to lose them to you!” Yasmin: “Hahaha, I’m taking you both down.” I smiled cunningly. “I’m already betting all my shares, so you all need to put up everything you own too.” “Holy shit, a life-or-death bet!” Yasmin, her husband, and Clara all laughed with pure mockery. I looked at Lucas. “You’re out of money, right? So bet your manhood. How about it?” The whole place roared with laughter. “Damn, that’s brutal!” “Without that thing, being a man would be pointless.” Lucas blew smoke in my face. “Bet! If you lose, you’re the one getting castrated.” Everyone laughed at me. To prevent backing out, we called in lawyers and drew up documents. “Alright, final round determines everything. Begin.” We shook our dice cups. “Bang!” “Who goes first?” Yasmin and group: “Four sixes!” Lucas: “Five threes!” Clara: “I’ll add one three!” They smiled confidently while everyone held their breath watching me. “Adrian, your turn!” I smiled. “Seven ones!” As soon as I spoke, they all laughed mockingly. “You’ve lost for sure. Open!” Yasmin only had two sixes, then one one, one five, one two. Clara had three threes, one four, one one. Lucas had one three, one two, two fives, one six. He looked nervously at Clara. “Adrian, we only have two ones total. Hahaha, if you don’t have five ones, you’re dead.” “He’s so bad—he’s not a gambling god. How could he possibly roll five ones?” “Open it!” I flicked away my cigarette, then lifted my dice cup. Everyone craned their necks. Suddenly, shocked exclamations erupted: “Ahhhh!! How is this possible?”

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When I saw my husband Ryan and the intern Quinn having sex against the mirror in the company break room, I didn’t burst in screaming and making a scene. Instead, I went to the legal department, printed out divorce papers, and waited in the office for them to finish. When they emerged, Ryan had Quinn wrapped up tight, shielding her behind him. “I couldn’t control myself in the heat of the moment. It’s my fault. Name your terms, but leave her out of this.” The way he protected that intern was exactly like how he’d stood before my parents defending me ten years ago. “If you won’t treat her, I will! It’s just cancer, isn’t it? I’ll spend every penny I have to cure her! If you don’t want her, I do! From now on, I’ll be her only family!” I smiled through the pain in my chest. Calmly, I pushed the divorce agreement toward him. “Consider this divorce agreement repayment for saving my life back then. Now we’re even.” Quinn’s trembling moans announced the end of their session. Ryan Miller slowly led Quinn out, his movements casual. When he saw me, panic flashed in his eyes. But he quickly regained his composure. He settled Quinn, her steps unsteady, onto the couch, his expression indifferent. “I was planning to find the right time to tell you, but since you found out first, I’ll just be honest.” “I’ve lost the passion of love for you. All that’s left is the habit of companionship. As long as you can accept her, we can continue as before.” His words cut through my heart like a knife. I never imagined he could be so brazen—as if cheating wasn’t even wrong. I clenched my fists, my voice shaking. “How long has this been going on?” He played with the wedding ring on his finger. “A year and a half.” Right when I finished my last round of chemotherapy. I opened my mouth to say something. Suddenly, Quinn clutched her stomach. “Ryan, I… my stomach hurts.” Ryan didn’t bother asking what I wanted to say. He immediately called the family doctor. Within fifteen minutes, Dr. Smith arrived. After checking her pulse, his expression grew troubled, and he glanced at me inadvertently. “Quinn is pregnant. It’s probably from overstimulation due to excessive intercourse. She should go to the hospital for a proper checkup.” Quinn’s eyes reddened as she complained coquettishly. “It’s all your fault! You didn’t use protection last time! And just now you were so rough, going so many times. I told you I couldn’t take it anymore but you wouldn’t stop!” Ryan apologized without a care for anyone watching. “My fault. I won’t do it again.” The doting tone in his voice made my heart tremble. He hadn’t spoken to me so gently in a very long time. I gripped my palms hard to hold back tears. Only then did Quinn seem to notice me. She pulled away from his embrace, her voice full of grievance. “Ryan, don’t do this in front of her. She’ll be hurt. Maybe we shouldn’t keep this baby after all. It’s not legitimate anyway.” Ryan frowned and grabbed her hand. “What do you mean we shouldn’t keep it! If I got you pregnant, I’ll take responsibility! You focus on your pregnancy and having this baby. Don’t worry about anything else. We’re going to the hospital right now!” Ryan hurriedly carried her out. As he rushed past, the wind from his clothes knocked me over. He paused for just a moment but didn’t look back. “Go home first. Don’t come to the office unless necessary—she gets scared easily.” The pain I’d been suppressing spread through my body from where I’d been knocked down. Tears flowed like water, but he was completely oblivious. I knew I was no longer the person whose single tear would make him panic. Looking at the office filled with traces of a young girl— Condoms in the drawer. Quinn’s complete sets of intimate clothing. Several tubes of bright-colored lipstick that had appeared in the pen holder. Cute labels on the file rack that read “Think of me today too.” His evasiveness at home, the phone he wouldn’t let me see. His constant late-night excuses to go out—it was all because he had someone more important. And the fact that I owed him my life meant I couldn’t even rightfully ask “why” when faced with betrayal. I laughed bitterly at myself. I dialed the lawyer’s number. “Help me draft divorce papers. I’ll leave with nothing.”

I sat alone on the couch waiting until late at night before Ryan came home. When he saw my face, his smile faded. Out of habit, he got my sleeping pills. “Can’t sleep again? Didn’t I tell you not to stay up late?” I didn’t respond. I handed him the signed divorce agreement. My voice was hoarse. “She’s pregnant. I thought about it for a long time. Since you like her, I’ll step aside. Consider it repayment for saving my life.” Ryan paused. A flash of barely perceptible anger crossed his eyes. He tore the agreement to shreds in a few quick motions. “Her pregnancy was within my expectations. Your health hasn’t been good these years—you can’t have children. Her child will be your child in the future.” “I won’t divorce you. After all these years, you only have me. I’ll give you dignity and respect, but as for love—I’ll give it all to her as compensation.” “I’ve already talked to her. She doesn’t want status, she just wants to be with me. You don’t need to worry about her affecting your position. Just wait to raise the child. Don’t think about meaningless things.” A belated sharp pain stabbed through my heart. I could never connect this distant man before me with the boy who once sat by my bedside promising he’d never let go of my hand. Right after college graduation, I was diagnosed with early-stage cancer. My parents, who had wanted to marry me off for money, abandoned me when they found out I was sick. Ryan gave up graduate school and entered the business world. He worked his way up from nobody to CEO of a publicly traded company. He gave me the best medical resources, allowing us a few more years of love together. During that time, Ryan’s mother repeatedly tried to make me leave. He threatened to die, saying I would be his only wife in this lifetime, that he would only ever love me. I once thought this was the perfect ending to a fairy tale—the hero and heroine overcoming countless hardships to finally be together. But reality delivered a crushing blow just when I thought I could be happy forever. Seeing my pale face, Ryan softened his tone. “You’re wonderful. I just don’t have feelings anymore.” “It’s late. Get some rest. I’ve assigned Dr. Smith to take care of her. Your health is mostly recovered now—if there’s a problem, just go to the hospital.” Dr. Smith had taken care of me for five years. Ryan had hired him at great expense as my personal physician. I’d mentioned before that my health was mostly recovered and I didn’t need a family doctor anymore. He’d said my condition could never be taken lightly. I said nothing and carried my things to the guest bedroom. Ryan instinctively grabbed my hand, then paused. “That’s fine actually. She’s pregnant and emotionally unstable. Sleeping separately will give her security. Move all your things to the guest room tomorrow.” During chemotherapy, I’d been in so much pain I couldn’t sleep all night, disturbing his rest too. I’d tried sneaking to another room in the middle of the night once, but he got very angry and carried me back. He said he couldn’t rest easy without staying by my side. He said he couldn’t sleep without breathing in my scent. From then on, for over two thousand nights, we slept in each other’s arms. Not even arguments or cold wars separated us. Now, he was preserving himself for someone else. I bit my lip hard, each step feeling like walking on nails as I left the bedroom that held the weight of our relationship. That night, tears soaked my pillow. I’d lost the last person in the world who loved me. The next morning, I went to Ryan’s mother’s house with a pounding headache, bringing the divorce agreement. She’d never liked me, thinking I was a burden to her son. Hearing that Quinn was pregnant with their grandchild made her even more eager for me to leave. She happily prepared a new divorce agreement. Out of her “generosity” for my “self-awareness,” she gave me ten percent of the assets. She subtly warned me not to pester Ryan after taking the money. I didn’t refuse. After all, half a month ago, I’d been diagnosed with a recurrent tumor. They still weren’t sure if it was benign or malignant. She couldn’t be bothered with small talk. Unusually, she spoke with some softness. “I’ll use every method possible to make him sign. You prepare for your future.”

After being politely escorted out of the family estate by the butler, I walked home numbly. But before I could even enter, Ryan’s people grabbed me and dragged me to the hospital. Outside the operating room, his eyes bloodshot, he slapped me hard across the face. “Who told you to tell my mother about Quinn’s pregnancy? Don’t you know she hates illegitimate children most of all! If I’d been one minute later, she would have dragged Quinn to get an abortion!” “Yesterday you acted like you didn’t care—turns out you were playing hard to get! If anything happens to her, what will you compensate me with?” After the burning pain on my cheek came numbness and shock. Ever since he took that slap from my father for me years ago, he said he’d never let anyone hurt me again in this lifetime. But in the end, he was the one who struck me without mercy. I held back tears and was about to explain when the operating room doors opened. He looked more anxious than when I’d miscarried a year ago. The doctor’s expression was grave. “The patient is showing signs of bleeding. She’s still being treated. The family should prepare a blood source immediately.” He stared at me hard, fury spilling from his eyes. “Are you satisfied now! If anything happens to her and the baby, you won’t get off easy either!” He dragged me to the blood donation room. “She has the same blood type as the patient. Draw hers for backup.” I looked at him in disbelief. A year ago, we’d had a child too. But because of my poor health and severe anemia, not long after the pregnancy was discovered, I bled and miscarried. Dr. Smith frowned. “Mr. Miller, your wife’s health isn’t good either. Last time she hemorrhaged… why don’t you use mine instead?” Ryan’s eyes flickered with hesitation, but under the doctor’s urging, he gave the order coldly. “Use hers. The blood type matches.” The needle stirred in my vein. I trembled from the pain. But his eyes remained fixed on the operating room door, not sparing me a single glance. When the surgery light finally went out and voices began exchanging information nearby, my consciousness had faded so much I couldn’t hear. After a long while, when I thought I could finally leave, someone pinned my arms down. Another needle was inserted into my other arm. Ryan’s urgent voice rang in my ears. Not because I was losing consciousness. But because— “Don’t switch donors! Quinn is weak. It’s best if one person provides all the blood to avoid complications. However much it takes, I only care about keeping mother and child safe!” As my consciousness blurred, I almost wished I would just die. Return this life to him. Then we’d be even. But somehow I survived. When I woke again, it was evening at dusk. I started to sit up when rustling sounds came from beside me. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t been so insecure back then, insisting you terminate her pregnancy, she wouldn’t have hemorrhaged and her health wouldn’t have declined so much.” “You already lied to her for me. Now you’ve hurt her again because of me. I feel so guilty.” Ryan sighed. “Terminating her pregnancy had nothing to do with you. I didn’t want it myself. Her health was poor—keeping that baby would’ve been a burden. Besides, I can’t give you status anymore. My child can only be born by you.” “If you really feel guilty, then from now on, protect our child well.” Listening to their intimate voices, my heart felt like someone had gouged out a piece of flesh. The pain was suffocating. He’d said even without a child, we’d be just as happy together. He’d said having me alone in this lifetime was enough. I never imagined the child whose loss tormented me through countless nights had actually been terminated by the person I loved most—just to appease his mistress. I gripped the bedsheet tightly, but tears still fell. After the muffled sound of water hitting the floor, the privacy curtain was pulled open. Meeting my desperate, anguished eyes, guilt flashed through Ryan’s expression. He reached out to wipe away my tears. But I dodged him. He sighed almost imperceptibly. “Since you heard, I have nothing to explain. Your health was already poor. Losing the baby was for your own good. Rest well. I’m taking her to the new ward.” The door closed. I finally broke down sobbing. Like a madwoman, I smashed everything in the hospital room. The IV needle twisted in my vein, piercing through my skin. But I felt no pain. If I could choose, I wished I’d died on the operating table during that cancer surgery years ago. Instead of being here, helpless as the person I loved most stabbed me again and again.

Perhaps out of guilt, during the week I was hospitalized, nutritional IVs, various supplements, custom meals, and luxury jewelry flowed into my room like water. But Ryan himself never appeared. According to the doctors, he’d been by Quinn’s side constantly these past days. He hadn’t slept for several nights and hadn’t gone to the company either. On the day of my discharge, he came to pick me up. When he reached out to help me up, I dodged him. His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t insist. “I know you’re upset. I’ll take you to an auction tonight. Bid on whatever you like.” “Try to be more understanding. Don’t worry about saving money for me—it’s the only thing I can give you now anyway.” That evening, the driver picked me up for the auction. As I got out of the car, he was helping Quinn out of another vehicle. Their movements were intimate, exactly like us during our honeymoon phase. I numbly followed them to our seats. As if venting, I participated in bidding for every item. Even items worth ten thousand dollars I drove up to hundreds of thousands. But from start to finish, Ryan kept his attention on Quinn and the items she liked. He didn’t look at me once. In that moment, disgust and resentment consumed me. I couldn’t calm down. I put down my bidding paddle and ran to the restroom. I splashed ice-cold water on my face and looked at my sallow, emaciated reflection in the mirror. Quinn appeared behind me at some point. Her skin was white as jade, her face full of youthful collagen. We were worlds apart. I said nothing and turned to leave, but she grabbed me. She touched her still-flat belly. “I said those things that day on purpose for you to hear.” “As you can see, his heart and eyes are full of me now. If not for years of emotional attachment and responsibility, he would’ve left you long ago.” “If you’re smart, you’ll leave while he still has a shred of feeling for you. Don’t obstruct our happiness.” I paused. The words “as you wish” were on the tip of my tongue, but seeing her provocative expression, I swallowed them. I laughed coldly. “I know you’re desperate to get rid of me and take my place, but your desperation is useless. As long as I’m here, you’ll be a mistress for life, and the baby in your belly will be illegitimate forever.” “He’ll have to call me Mom. He’ll have to support me in old age. I’ll teach him from childhood that mistresses are the most despicable people in the world. Do you think that kind of life will be happy?” Quinn’s anger was visible. Her eyes turned red as she glared at me. “You just won’t face reality! Fine. Keep being stubborn. Since you won’t leave, I’ll send you off myself!” I ignored her empty threats. When I went back out, I saw Ryan’s worried eyes—which turned to wariness when he saw it was me. Only when he saw Quinn emerge unharmed did he relax. After the auction ended, Ryan received a work call. He had the driver ensure both Quinn and I got home safely. He got in another car to go work overtime at the company. We rode in silence the whole way. But I noticed this route wasn’t heading home or to Quinn’s place. I was about to speak when someone struck me hard on the back of the neck with a chop. When I woke again, the roar of ocean waves filled my ears, making me shiver. My arms were tied behind my back. No matter how I struggled, I couldn’t break free. I looked up to see several masked figures playing with knives, standing before us. Quinn was also tied up, standing beside me on the cliff’s edge. But she looked completely at ease, not at all like someone who’d been kidnapped. “What are you doing!” She laughed mockingly. “Making sure you die with full understanding, of course.” As she spoke, thick tape sealed my mouth. They grabbed ropes and suspended us both over the cliff. A phone rang across the empty ocean. Ryan’s anxious voice came through. “What do you want? Come at me! Let them go!” The man laughed, scraping his sharp blade against the rope. “Revenge, of course. You really screwed me over back then.” “Now I have both your wife and your mistress with your child. Choose one. I’ll push the other one down to feed the sharks.” Quinn cried rivers of tears. “Ryan, don’t worry about me! You’re a rising star in business—so many people are watching you. I can’t let you bear the stigma of cheating and abandoning your wife and child.” “Natalie, I’m willing to die for Ryan! Please make this farce stop!” Her words instantly enraged Ryan. “Natalie! You’re getting more and more shameless with your jealous schemes! I already said I won’t divorce you. What more do you want?” “Now you’re staging a fake kidnapping to threaten me! I don’t have time for your games. If Quinn loses a single hair, I’ll make you pay!” I couldn’t speak. I could only cry. The kidnapper looked at me sinisterly. “So you’re choosing to let your wife feed the sharks?” Ryan paused, unease growing in his heart. But the flicker of hesitation and doubt in his eyes vanished the moment he saw Quinn’s terrified expression. “Stop pretending! I’m not falling for reverse psychology! If she wants to jump, let her jump! It’ll wash clean her filthy heart! Just send Quinn back to me in one piece!” I never imagined that in his eyes, I’d become someone whose life could be wagered. I struggled to explain. But the tape sealed my mouth tight. The rope frayed bit by bit. Looking at Ryan’s still unmoved expression, the feeling of free fall and suffocation didn’t seem so unbearable anymore. Tears blown by the wind landed on the screen. His brow twitched. Just as he was about to speak, with a whoosh, I plunged into the abyss. Watching his anxious face in the camera grow more and more blurred, I closed my eyes. But the moment I truly fell into the depths of the ocean, I heard him screaming my name with heart-wrenching despair.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “360719”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller #重生Reborn

At my best friend’s wedding, the bouquet fell into a bridesmaid’s arms, then bounced and landed in mine. Every eye in the room turned to my boyfriend, Ethan, and the crowd started chanting: “Marry her! Marry her!” The crowd pushed Ethan forward until he stood right in front of me. My face flushed red as I waited quietly for those words—”I’ll marry you.” But he just calmly pulled the bouquet from my hands. Then turned and casually handed it to that bridesmaid. “She caught it first. Should give it back to her. Next time I’ll buy you flowers myself.” He ruffled my hair, his voice gentle as always. I watched that bridesmaid’s expression—surprised and bashful—and let out a cold laugh. Ethan didn’t know there wouldn’t be a next time. My wedding was scheduled for next week. Layla’s face darkened instantly. I grabbed her hand before it could fly up. She turned back, her eyes even redder than mine: “That woman did it on purpose! I told all the bridesmaids clearly that the bouquet was meant for you…” “Layla.” I gently interrupted her. “The wedding isn’t over yet.” The crowd’s attention had already shifted away from Ethan and me. Following that bouquet, it now rested on the face of the bridesmaid named Quinn Rivers. She held the flowers, gazing at Ethan with eyes full of meaning. Ethan had already retreated calmly to the edge of the crowd. The MC was experienced. A few witty remarks and the atmosphere heated up again. Layla finally turned away with a huff and continued with the ceremony. Throughout the entire banquet, I sat at the main table with my best friend’s family. Enduring sympathetic or curious glances from all directions. Ethan sat at another table, laughing and chatting with his friends. Quinn sat close to him—far too close for what a secretary’s distance should be. She wasn’t originally supposed to be a bridesmaid. The groom’s side suddenly had an extra groomsman, so they had her fill in. Ethan often brought her to various events, calling it “professional development.” He even brought her to my best friend’s wedding. During the toast, Layla came to our table with her new husband. She hugged me tightly and whispered in my ear, her voice low enough for only us to hear: “That woman has been scheming her way close to your Ethan for half a year. I had someone look into her—she’s ruthless. Ethan, he…” “Layla,” I patted her back, cutting off what came next. “Today you’re the most beautiful bride. Don’t talk about that stuff.” She huffed but said nothing more. As the banquet ended and guests gradually dispersed, Ethan finally walked over casually. “Ready to go home?” He naturally took my handbag and habitually reached to put his arm around my shoulders. I shifted slightly, avoiding him. “You’ve been drinking. I’ll call a rideshare.” He didn’t seem to mind and nodded. “That works.” The car drove into the night. The window reflected my face dimly. My makeup was perfect, but couldn’t hide the exhaustion in my eyes. “Quinn caught the bouquet first today. She probably wanted some good luck.” He suddenly spoke. “Returning it to its rightful owner—don’t take it too personally.” I didn’t respond, just watched the neon lights flying backward outside the window. He waited a moment, then finally looked up from his phone screen toward me. “Are you angry?” He leaned closer. “Didn’t we agree? Next time for sure?” His fingers threaded through my loose hair, rubbing the back of my neck. Like soothing a temperamental cat. “Our wedding will definitely be even better than Layla’s. You can have as many bouquets as you want, okay?” A layer of bitterness spread through my heart. It was always like this. Using a gentle tone to make vague promises about “next time.” Then taking for granted that the storm should simply pass. “Ethan.” I looked at his reflection in the window. “Hmm?” “Layla and I made a promise when we were kids.” My voice was calm. “Whoever gets married first, the other one’s wedding can’t be more than a week later.” “We’d wear each other’s bridesmaid dresses and be the first to witness each other’s happiness.” The car fell silent for a moment. His hand rubbing my neck stopped. “You’re taking childhood jokes seriously?” He laughed. That hand started moving again, with a perfunctory quality. “Plans can’t keep up with changes these days. Hotels, dates, arrangements—all of that needs six months to a year of preparation.” “We’ll plan it properly and give you the most perfect wedding. What’s the rush?” He didn’t explain why he hadn’t dared to publicly promise to marry me. Instead, he jumped straight to “how to plan a perfect wedding.” I suddenly remembered a month before Layla’s wedding. She excitedly dragged me to try on the bridesmaid dress she’d designed herself. Pale champagne tulle with tiny pearls sewn along the waistline. When I put it on, Layla’s eyes lit up, then inexplicably reddened. “Riley, you look amazing in this.” “I made it especially for you. When you get married, I’ll make you an even more beautiful wedding dress!” Ethan had been there too. He was looking down at work messages, and when he heard this, he glanced up and smiled. “Not bad.” Then his eyes dropped back to the screen, fingers tapping rapidly. In that instant, besides feeling happy for my friend about to be married, I also felt desolate about my own eight-year relationship with no results. The car slowly pulled into the residential complex and stopped. Ethan unbuckled his seatbelt. Seeming to think the conversation in the car had closed that little episode, he very naturally leaned over, wanting to give me a kiss. I raised my hand and gently pressed against his shoulder. He froze. “I’m tired, Ethan.”

He looked at me, silent for several seconds. Finally, he just patted my shoulder. “Being a bridesmaid is exhausting. Get some rest early.” “Quinn said she can’t get a car. It’s not safe for a young woman alone—I’m going back to pick her up.” “Okay.” My voice was flat and emotionless. He didn’t move immediately. He seemed to be waiting for me to remind him to be safe like usual. Or to complain with a trace of grievance that “it’s so late and you’re still going out.” But I just pulled open the car door. And got out. The driver slowly started the car again. After closing the door, I collapsed on the sofa. After a long time, I finally got up and walked toward the bedroom. Passing that “children’s room,” my steps paused. This had been planned when we bought the house four years ago. Now there were no children, just piles of miscellaneous items. I walked in. From the dusty crib, I pulled out a thick stack of things. His handwritten love letters, movie ticket stubs, amusement park tickets, instant photos from trips together… At the very bottom was one from our college graduation. He carried me on his back under a cherry blossom tree, my arms around his neck. My long hair and cherry blossom petals flying together. On the back of the photo, he’d written boldly: “I’ll carry you for a lifetime. I mean it.” The weak light from the living room fell on those words, cold. Like a silent mockery. Downstairs, the faint sound of a car entering the garage drifted up. My movements stopped. I didn’t move, just listened. The sound of keys turning in the lock, deliberately lightened footsteps. After a while, the door was gently pushed open. He stood in the doorway. “Still not asleep?” I didn’t turn around, still crouching by the crib. “Mm.” “Why’d you dig all this stuff out?” he asked, his tone casual. “Feeling nostalgic?” I didn’t answer his question, just quietly asked, “Did you drop her off?” He paused, then explained: “Yeah, dropped her off. She lives pretty far out—not easy to get a car.” “Oh.” I lowered my head again, carefully folding the photos and putting them back. “It’s late. Let’s sleep.” He spoke again, this time extending his hand, wanting to pull me up. I didn’t offer my hand. Instead, I braced against my knees and stood up somewhat laboriously. My legs had gone numb from crouching, making me sway. “Ethan.” “Hmm?” His footsteps paused. “Let’s break up.” He stopped moving, looked at me for two seconds, then laughed. He raised his hand and loosened his tie. “Still thinking about the bouquet? Don’t be petty.” His tone held that exasperation of humoring a temperamental child. “Alright, I’ll order you a bigger one tomorrow, okay? Now wash up and sleep—I have an early meeting tomorrow.” He finished speaking and turned toward the bathroom. “Within a week,” I said to his back, my voice not loud, “I’m getting married.” His hand, just touching the bathroom door handle, froze. Several seconds later, he turned around. The perfunctory warmth on his face finally peeled away completely. “Riley, stop playing around.” He pressed his temples. “Marriage is serious. You don’t just get married out of spite.” “October 28th.” I supplied the date. “The hotel’s booked. The wedding dress is chosen.” He suddenly laughed coldly. “Did Layla say something to you today? Just because she had a whirlwind marriage, she thinks everyone should be as impulsive as her?” “Riley, wake up. Don’t let her lead you astray. After all these years we’ve been together…” “Ethan,” I interrupted him. “The invitations start printing tomorrow.” The muscles in his face twitched subtly. “Riley, you think this is going to work? This just makes me think you’re immature and unreasonable!” “I’m in a critical phase of my career right now. This would only distract me and disrupt all my plans and arrangements.” “Are you really that desperate to get married?” His words hit like stones. Once, his attitude would have made me panic, made me rush to explain and back down. But now, only calm remained in my heart. His attention had always been expensive. It had to be divided among important projects and given to his “capable” secretary—late-night check-ins, birthday surprises, and hot spring trips that just happened to extend business trips by half a day… Naturally, little remained for me, the “old timer.” Meeting his gaze, I nodded: “Yes. My friends are all married. I want to get married too.”

After saying this, I turned and went into the bedroom. On the nightstand sat a fashion magazine from six months ago, its cover headline bold: Bride-to-Be Must Read! The Perfect Three-Month Wedding Planning Guide. I’d bought it enthusiastically back then, flipped through a few pages, then set it aside after his “no rush” and never opened it again. In the darkness, I stared at the blurred ceiling. My phone vibrated softly. The screen lit up automatically—a message from Layla: Are you asleep? I’m so upset. Just thinking about that woman makes me furious. What’s wrong with Ethan? What’s wrong? Nothing’s wrong. In this world, not every wait ends with flowers blooming. She continued with a long message: Remember we said our weddings couldn’t be more than a week apart? Who knew your guy would be like a block of wood—the bouquet literally landed in your hands and he still had no sense. You’ve been together eight years, not eight months! Forget it. This time, I’ll allow you to break our promise. My fingertip paused slightly. I gently typed a few words: When have I ever broken a promise to you? Ethan moved to the small apartment near his company for emergency overtime. Probably my sudden wedding plan made him feel suffocated, and he went there for some peace. Fine. We both got some breathing room. I quietly handled everything. Listed our current house on real estate websites. The afternoon I handed the keys to the agent, I was at home sorting through odds and ends. I found a project file tucked into an old magazine. A glance showed it was one Ethan was currently working on. After hesitating, I decided to take it to him. When I arrived, the apartment door was tightly shut. Inside came the faint sound of laughter—clearly more than one person. I raised my hand about to knock. A familiar female voice rose up, sounding troubled: “Mr. Ethan, it’s all my fault. First time catching a bouquet—I had no experience. Now the company group chat is going wild. Several colleagues have privately asked me if Mr. Ethan and I…” “You really need to clarify in the group, or I’ll be too embarrassed to show my face.” My raised hand froze mid-air. Before Ethan could respond, one of his buddies cut in with a teasing laugh: “I say, Secretary Rivers, do you really want our Mr. Ethan to clarify, or are you hinting you want to hear him say something else?” A round of knowing laughter. Quinn protested “stop it” coyly, but her voice held no real annoyance. “Alright, stop teasing her.” Ethan’s voice came through, with a kind of casual indulgence. “Don’t worry too much about that kind of thing. In a while, everyone will naturally forget.” In a while, they’ll forget… These words unexpectedly unlocked a certain memory. Back when I went to the company to help him with miscellaneous tasks, he’d casually put his arm around my shoulders, forgetting the setting. A colleague happened to see it. That afternoon, he made a brief clarification in the company group chat. Told everyone not to misunderstand and to focus on work. At the time, I understood. To avoid unnecessary gossip, I stopped going to the company. My fingertips felt slightly cold. Turns out what he minded might never have been “office romance” itself. But rather… being seen with me! A woman who couldn’t really help his career. Another buddy asked with confusion: “Speaking of which, Ethan, how’d you handle things with Riley in the end? I actually got a wedding invitation from her this morning—this is way too sudden!” Brief silence. Ethan laughed lightly, without warmth. “Let her do what she wants.” “I usually indulge her little tantrums. But this time, I need to let her understand on her own that some things don’t work just because you make a fuss.” “Whoa,” someone egged him on. “So you mean this groom is definitely planning to be a no-show?” Ethan didn’t speak, essentially confirming it. Until another buddy, with slight uncertainty, probed: “Ethan, you really gonna let it get this bad? You and Riley have been together so many years. All us guys have been waiting to toast at your wedding—our necks are getting long…” He paused here, his tone taking on a half-joking speculation: “You’re being so stubborn about this… could it be you really have other plans? Like… our Secretary Rivers here?” “Mr. Lee~” Quinn laughed coyly, drawing out her words. “Please don’t joke about me like that. Mr. Ethan… he knows what’s in his heart.” Those last few words, she said softly yet meaningfully. Ethan didn’t explain. A round of knowing low laughter rose up. Another male voice chimed in, full of agreement: “If you ask me, Ethan’s already devoted enough. All these years—anyone else would’ve lost patience long ago.” “Besides making a fuss, what can Riley actually help with? Not like our Quinn here—smart, sensible, and can really step up when it matters…” Quinn cut him off coyly: “Don’t talk nonsense!” The motion-sensor light in the hallway had gone out at some point. The corridor was completely dark. I gently set the document envelope on the floor by the door and used my toe to push it toward the gap beneath. Then I turned and left.

Ethan checked his phone screen again. The chat window with Riley still stopped at the last message he’d sent her: When you’ve thought it through, I’ll come back. Something wasn’t right. He knew Riley. In the past, even during cold wars, her silence always carried some small tactic to get his attention. But he’d moved out five days ago, and she hadn’t even posted on social media. “Ethan,” a mutual friend held his phone up to him, tone full of amazement. “Whoa, your girl’s wedding photos… absolutely stunning.” Ethan snapped back to attention. It was Layla’s post—nine photos in a grid. In the center photo, Riley wore a wedding dress. She stood before a floor-to-ceiling window of pure clarity. Sunlight poured down, coating her in a soft, warm glow. Her head tilted slightly down, gaze resting on her hand lightly touching the satin of the wedding dress. A faint curve graced her lips. Beautiful. A kind of beauty he hadn’t seen in her for a long time. Washed clean of all anxiety, settled into a serene beauty. Below, likes and comments from mutual friends flooded in: “Riley looks absolutely gorgeous!” “That Ethan guy is so lucky!” “Congratulations! Finally!” Layla’s social media had always blocked him. He couldn’t see it directly. But he could glimpse this commotion through others’ phones. Along with it came an inexplicable anger. She’s actually going through with it? And making such a big production of it? “Tch, she’s really putting on quite a show.” He twisted his lips. “Let her make a scene. I’m not going.” His friend laughed awkwardly. “Ethan, why…” “Some things, you can’t indulge.” Ethan cut him off. “Especially when someone’s fanning the flames. After this is over,” He paused, meaningfully. “I’ll make her understand who she needs to keep her distance from.” In his mind, Layla had long been classified as a “bad influence on Riley”—someone who needed to be isolated. October 28th. The second day after that photo set was posted. Ethan woke early. Earlier this year, Riley’s parents had come over for dinner. During the meal, they’d mentioned this was the most suitable day for a wedding. He never imagined Riley would actually schedule it for this day! Calls and messages from several buddies came in successively. “Ethan, you really not going? We’re all ready—just waiting for your word to head over!” “Should we arrange the car convoy? If we leave now, we can still make it.” He scoffed and replied in the group chat: “What’s the rush? Let her wait.” He imagined Riley right now in her wedding dress, sitting anxiously in the decorated bridal suite, checking the time over and over, expectant yet anxious… That sense of punitive satisfaction swelled in his heart. She needed to taste what real panic felt like, so she wouldn’t pull this again. Until someone suddenly dropped a screenshot in the group—Layla’s latest post. The image showed a warmly decorated bedroom full of wedding atmosphere. Heart-shaped balloons floated about. Rose petals scattered across the bed. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, warm and brimming with sweet atmosphere. The caption read: My girl must be happy! Groom, hurry up and come! The group chat exploded instantly. “Holy crap, she actually set everything up!” “This atmosphere… Ethan, if you don’t go I really can’t watch this anymore!” “Ethan! Be a man and get moving! Don’t really screw this up!” “Address! Address! Brothers will go with you!” The light from the screen reflected on Ethan’s face. He stared at that photo, his fingers tightening slightly. Every detail in that room called for the groom’s arrival. He imagined himself pushing open the door, seeing her surprised and delighted eyes amid everyone’s cheers… He turned his head toward the closet. That custom-tailored suit hung in the most prominent position. Tie, cufflinks, shoes—all complete. A week ago, for some reason, he’d somehow had his assistant prepare it all. Now, with his buddies pressuring him relentlessly, that taut string in his heart seemed to loosen a bit. He spoke into his phone, tone still reluctantly annoyed: “Alright, alright, what’s all the noise about?” As if he had no choice but to compromise under his friends’ urging: “Wait for me to change.” He stood and walked toward the closet, his steps faster than usual, though he didn’t realize it. Buttoning the last button on his shirt, about to put on the suit jacket, his phone rang. It was one of the buddies who’d gone ahead to scout: “Ethan, why was your and Riley’s place sold? Where are we supposed to pick up the bride?”

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When Mrs. Thompson called both Peyton and me to her office, the two kids were standing against the wall, faces marked with scratches and bruises. He spoke first. “Long time no see.” I replied politely, “Long time no see.” Mrs. Thompson’s words floated past lightly, and she had us each take our child home. I turned right with my daughter. He turned left with his son. This was our first meeting six years after the divorce. …… I was in the middle of a site inspection when the call came. Even the roar of the excavator couldn’t drown out Mrs. Thompson’s piercing voice. My daughter had gotten into a fight at school. With the school board chairman’s son, no less. By the time I arrived at the school, the other parent was already there. A tall figure in a suit, his back straight and refined. I glanced down at my mud-splattered shoes and the jeans ripped by a nail during my site rounds. Silently regretting my choice. I should have changed into something more presentable. Mrs. Thompson waved me over when she saw me. The other parent turned around at the sound. The person I thought I’d never cross paths with again appeared before me without warning. “Long time no see.” I responded politely. “Long time no see.” Mrs. Thompson let out a long sigh of relief. “The two children had a little disagreement.” “Since you and Chairman Hart already know each other, why don’t you settle this privately?” As soon as we left the school building, my daughter told me that Maxwell Hart used his father’s position as the school’s investor to bully other students regularly. I asked softly, “Did he bully you?” My daughter paused. “He said I’m a bastard, a kid without a father.” “I got angry and fought with him.” I paused for a moment, then gave her a thumbs up. “Good for you.” Peyton dragged Maxwell over, chasing after us. He pressed down on Maxwell’s head, demanding he apologize to my daughter. A sharp, affected voice cut through the air. “Why should my son apologize?” Serena clicked over in her high heels, her face flushed with urgency. She had transformed completely from before. Draped in designer labels from head to toe, no trace left of her former awkwardness. When she saw it was me, she froze for a moment. “I already asked the teacher about this.” “Our Maxwell was just having a normal conversation with a classmate.” “This little girl suddenly rushed over and pushed him!” She looked up at Peyton. “If anyone should apologize, it’s her to our son.” My daughter pulled her hand from mine and looked at Peyton too. “He said I’m a bastard, that I don’t have a father.” “That’s why… I pushed him.” Peyton’s eyes flickered across from us. “Sweetie, who says you don’t have a father?” A calm, measured voice sounded beside my ear as a hand gently took my trembling one. Warmth spread from that broad palm, bringing an inexplicable sense of security. “Dad!” My daughter rushed toward Zach, who caught her up in his arms. “I’ve just been busy with work lately and haven’t had time to come to school.” “I had no idea my daughter was being called fatherless.” Silence stretched the moment out. Peyton looked at me and spoke slowly. “Today was our fault.” “I’ll make sure to educate him properly when we get home.” I nodded. I ushered Zach and my daughter into the car. “Vivian Hart, this time we’ll let it go.” “But don’t go around calling people dad.” “Call him Zach.” I turned to Zach. “How did you get here?” Vivian covered her phone watch. “When our Sweetie gets bullied, I have to come back her up.” Zach turned around and winked at her. The two of them laughed together, sweeping away the gloom from the school incident. I glanced out the window where Serena was still saying something. Peyton ignored her, looking annoyed as he turned left out of the school gate with his child. Zach jerked his chin in their direction. “Is that her?” I nodded. Back then, she was just our housekeeper. Yet she made Peyton divorce me without a second thought.

When I first started at the school, Peyton’s company was just getting off the ground. We both grabbed meals on the run. The small diner near our apartment became our regular dinner spot. Serena was a kitchen helper there back then. She often sat on a plastic stool by the door, reading books. When she learned I was a teacher, her eyes lit up. She told me she wanted to take the self-study university exam. She hoped to get a degree so she could establish herself in the city. At the time, I admired her tenacity. Only later did I realize the ambition and ruthlessness beneath that determination. That day, Peyton and I walked to the small diner as usual. From a distance, we saw the rolling shutter pulled down. Serena was crouched on the stone steps by the entrance, shoulders shaking as she cried. It turned out the owner had run off. She had nowhere to go and still owed rent. She cried and begged me to help her get a job in the school cafeteria. I couldn’t help her with that, but I felt sorry for how hard things were for someone so young. So I asked if she’d be willing to come cook at our place. She threw her arms around me, overjoyed. “Claire, I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.” When we got home, Peyton frowned and told me, “I don’t like having outsiders in the house.” I took his hand. “The girl’s having a hard time. Just let her come cook for us. She’ll leave right after. Okay?” He sighed softly. He turned his hand over and clasped mine. “Whatever you want…” The neighbor I was friendly with saw that a young woman had been coming to our place. She pulled me aside and quietly warned me to be careful. I laughed and waved it off. My relationship with Peyton had spanned our entire youth. From childhood to adolescence all the way to marriage. Plenty of girls had chased him. He never even bothered to look up. I knew him. Once he decided on something, he was single-minded. Serena’s meals were different every day, balanced with meat and vegetables. She was very attentive. She memorized all of Peyton’s and my preferences. Going far beyond what her job required. A cup of hot tea handed to us after dinner gradually melted Peyton’s cold expression. His attitude toward Serena became much warmer. I treated her like a younger sister. But when she said the rent outside was too expensive and asked if she could set up a cot in the storage room, I hesitated. After all, having a live-in was somewhat inconvenient. Serena put on a pleading smile. “Claire, I’ll take care of everything at home.” “You and Peyton can just focus on your careers.” While I was still hesitating, Peyton came home. He took the hot tea Serena handed him. “Living here works. I’m busy with work, so you and Claire can look out for each other.” Serena happily shook Peyton’s hand. “Thank you, Peyton. I’ll definitely take good care of Claire.” Serena truly lived up to her word. She didn’t let me worry about a single household task. The bedding was fluffy and soft, smelling of sunshine. Even the cracks in the corners were spotless. Most importantly, she had a good sense of boundaries. After finishing her tasks, she’d return to her room to study. So quiet you’d forget there was another person in the house. My concerns gradually dissolved day by day. On Serena’s birthday, I brought Peyton along to buy her gifts and a cake. We came home early wanting to surprise her. When we opened the door, she looked completely flustered. Her face was as red as the red halter dress she was wearing. That was a dress Peyton had given me when we were dating. I’d thought it was too revealing and never wore it. “Claire, I was sorting through seasonal clothes today and saw this dress.” “I thought it looked nice so I tried it on.” “I’m sorry…” Though she was speaking to me, her eyes were on Peyton. Tears hung at the corners of her eyes, with a coquettishness unique to young girls. Peyton beside me cleared his throat twice. “I forgot something in the car. Going down to get it.” Young girls liking pretty things was understandable. Serena usually wore faded plaid shirts. I just hadn’t expected someone so simple to like this style. I set aside the gift we’d picked for her that afternoon. “Peyton and I chose a dress for you.” “Though it seems it’s not your style.” She picked up the shopping bag, her eyes full of eagerness to please. “I like it, I like it. I love anything you give me.” Peyton was gone for a long time. When he finally came back, the unnatural flush on his face still hadn’t faded. I didn’t think much of this little incident. But afterward, Serena started wearing makeup. From time to time, she’d go to the study to ask Peyton questions. Peyton, who usually had no patience for incompetence, was extraordinarily patient with her. He’d even disassemble models I wasn’t allowed to touch to show her. The atmosphere in our home began to change subtly. Zach beside me asked, “Is that when they got together?” I shook my head. “Not long after, I let her go.” The reason I fired her was… A peach.

“Serena, did you receive the two boxes of peaches today?” Serena, who was cooking, responded. “Got them. I put them all in the fridge.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Just in time. I’d specially asked a friend to air-ship these Okayama white peaches from Japan. The client Peyton was meeting with tomorrow loved these. When I opened the fridge, I noticed the box had been opened. There had been six peaches originally. Now there were only five. Serena turned around just then, carrying a dish. I looked into her eyes. “Did you touch the peaches in the box?” Her hand holding the soup bowl jerked violently. The ceramic bowl slipped, and hot soup spilled everywhere. Peyton rushed over almost immediately when he heard the noise. He passed right by me. Grabbing her wrist, his voice full of concern. “Did you get burned?” “Did you cut yourself?” “How could you be so careless?” He carefully blew on her hand. “Quick, run it under cold water.” He half-supported, half-carried her to the bathroom. He didn’t even look back at me. Didn’t even glance at my foot scalded by the hot soup. Serena’s trembling voice drifted from the bathroom, broken and halting. “Peyton, I’m sorry…” “I cleaned inside and out all day today, so busy I forgot to eat lunch…” “Later I was so hungry, I saw the peaches in the fridge.” “I thought… just one peach, it should be fine…” “I really didn’t think… that Claire would care so much…” I laughed coldly to myself. There was so much fruit in the house. I’d specifically told her just yesterday that these peaches were for a client. Yet she still took one. Peyton’s voice carried a coaxing tone. “It’s fine. Eat them if you want.” When he came out and saw my expression, his face darkened. “Claire, is it really necessary over one peach?” I said coldly, “Peyton, these were specially prepared for your client visit.” “Do you know how many favors I called in to get these from Japan?” His tone was full of impatience, as if I were being unreasonable. “I’ll handle the client situation myself. You don’t need to worry about it.” “Serena can eat the peaches if she wants. She can eat as many as she likes.” He paused. “I’m taking Serena to the hospital to treat her burn.” “Peyton!” I stepped forward, enunciating each word. “If you walk out that door now, don’t come back.” He stopped in his tracks, his anger deflating by half. In the end, he stayed where he was. He didn’t move another step. Didn’t turn around either. Early the next morning, I called in sick to the school. I stopped Peyton as he was getting ready for work. I turned to Serena, who was holding Peyton’s briefcase. “Serena, you’ll be starting school soon.” I pulled out a manila envelope. “This money is for you. It’s enough for tuition and basic living expenses.” Serena’s face went pale instantly. “Claire… what do you mean?” “What I mean is—” I met her gaze. “We don’t need help at home anymore.” “Claire!” Serena rushed over in a few steps. “Yesterday was my fault!” “I was greedy and ate the peach!” “I made you angry!” “Please let me stay, okay?” “I don’t have many classes. I absolutely won’t neglect the housework.” She got more and more agitated as she spoke. Finally her knees started to buckle. “Serena!” Peyton finally spoke up, stepping forward quickly to catch her. But I stopped him with a look. I watched her knees hovering in mid-air and laughed coldly. “Claire!” Peyton’s voice carried anger. “How did you become like this?” He turned to look at the tearful Serena. His voice softened. “You don’t have to go anywhere. Just stay home.” I felt a surge of rage rush from the bottom of my heart straight to my head. Before I knew it, I’d slammed the teacup down hard on the table. The fragments shattered everywhere, cutting my hand bloody, though I barely noticed. “Peyton, you’re crossing the line!” In all our years of marriage, this was the first time I’d ever slammed anything in front of him. Silence spread through the room. After a long moment, he finally spoke. “Serena, focus on your studies at school.” Zach was even more curious. He parked the car and turned to ask me. “So when did you two get divorced?” I smiled slightly. I’d naively thought that firing her would make life return to normal. But she’d already taken root deep in Peyton’s heart. I glanced at my daughter, who was listening to music with her earbuds in. I said lightly, “Three years later.” “The day I found out I was pregnant.”

After dropping my daughter off at her tutoring class, we came to the coffee shop downstairs. Zach insisted on hearing the rest of the story. He brought over two cups of coffee. I began slowly. By then, Peyton had already made his business successful and stable. I wasn’t as busy as when I first started at the school either. We both wanted a child. We’d done all the tests. Nothing wrong, but no pregnancy either. One year, two years. Peyton smiled and told me to relax. But I knew how many events he’d turned down that he shouldn’t have, just to focus on trying for a baby. On the seventh morning after my period was late, I stared at the three pregnancy tests on the table, each showing two clear lines. I rubbed my finger over Peyton’s name on my phone but didn’t call. Not until I held the pregnancy report at the hospital. I bought his favorite grapefruit cake. I decided to go to his company and surprise him in person. Just as I stepped into the elevator, two girls in work uniforms carrying coffee walked in. The tall girl looked around and lowered her voice to her companion. “Hey, did you hear? Even someone like Mr. Hart…” “I really don’t believe in love anymore!” The girl with the ponytail was excited with gossip. “Which Mr. Hart?” “How many Mr. Harts does our company have? The one on the top floor!” “I heard Mrs. Hart is even a university professor. How could he fall for that intern?” “Right! She didn’t even graduate from a proper university. Using… well, you know. Now she follows Mr. Hart in and out every day. Who doesn’t know what’s going on?” The elevator stopped at the nineteenth floor. The two girls’ voices cut off abruptly as they exited. And I stood there trembling as I pressed the button for the top floor. Just as I reached Peyton’s office door, his secretary Jordan stopped me. “Claire, Mr. Hart is in a meeting.” I tried the handle. “A meeting with who? What kind of meeting requires locking the office door?” Jordan smiled awkwardly. I didn’t look at him again. I used all my strength to kick open that heavy wooden door. The scene inside made me unable to breathe. On the office desk was a disheveled Serena. Peyton stood beside her, his chest heaving violently. When he heard the door, he whipped around. The moment our eyes met, the lust in his eyes was instantly replaced by fear. His Adam’s apple bobbed frantically. “Claire, let me explain.” He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Serena cowered behind him. I looked at this place I’d visited countless times. Now it felt so filthy and unbearable. “Explain what?” “Explain how she came to work at your company?” “How she became your assistant?” “Or… how she ended up on your desk?” I thought I would cry, that I’d become hysterical. But when I actually spoke, my voice was as calm as a stagnant pool. I walked toward the silver trash can by the desk. I lifted my hand and threw the grapefruit cake into it. Peyton hadn’t even noticed the cake in my hand. He thought I was going to approach Serena. In two or three steps, he was in front of me. Arms spread wide, shielding Serena behind him. That posture suddenly struck me as ridiculous. “Peyton, don’t worry.” “I find trash too disgusting to even look at, let alone touch.” I didn’t spare them another glance. I turned and left. The moment I stepped through the door, my legs felt like all their strength had been drained. I collapsed heavily onto the cold floor. Tears broke free. That day, I felt like all my organs had gone numb. Time and space dissolved into nothing. The sky gradually darkened, then gradually lightened again. Peyton didn’t come home. This man I’d thought only had eyes for me was completely absent. Not until the divorce papers I sent him showed as delivered did the lock finally turn. He looked well. His expression held no trace of guilt. Only a kind of impatience at being disturbed. “Claire, we don’t need to make this ugly. As long as you don’t divorce me, I’ll never divorce you.”

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The company was facing bankruptcy, and my husband asked for a divorce, wanting to shoulder all the debts alone. I didn’t agree. I worked eight jobs a day like a beast of burden, working from dawn to dusk to help him get through the crisis. When I finally scraped together enough money and went to the company to find my husband, I accidentally witnessed him flirting with his young secretary. “When is that old hag going to stop clinging to you?” “What can I do? I sent thugs to threaten her, to intimidate her, but she still won’t leave.” Turns out my husband never went bankrupt at all. He even used my hard-earned money to buy the secretary a car, a house, and was planning a grand wedding for her. I gritted my teeth, my eyes red with hatred. When my husband proposed divorce once again, I signed the divorce agreement without hesitation, registered the patent first, and then reported his company for product infringement. You like pretending to be bankrupt? I’ll make you truly bankrupt!

“Quinn, the company really can’t hold on anymore. Bankruptcy is imminent. I don’t want to divorce you either, but as the legal representative of the company, I have to take responsibility. Only by divorcing can I avoid dragging you down with me.” In the office, my husband Adrian handed me the divorce agreement he had prepared long ago. His words and expression were so sincere that I should have been deeply moved. But I dug my nails into my palms, my heart growing colder inch by inch. Because I had already seen through the massive lie beneath his devotion. A month ago, the company faced bankruptcy. To avoid dragging me down, Adrian proposed divorcing me, wanting to shoulder all the debts alone. I didn’t agree. I worked eight jobs a day like a beast of burden, working from dawn to dusk to help him get through the crisis. To save money, I sold off all my possessions, ate nothing but bread soaked in water for every meal, and passed out several times from low blood sugar at work, only to continue earning money after waking up. But when I finally scraped together enough money and went to the company to find my husband, I accidentally witnessed him flirting with his young secretary. Turns out my husband never went bankrupt at all. He was only pretending to be bankrupt to give his mistress a proper status. He even used my hard-earned money to buy the secretary a car, a house, and was planning a grand wedding for her. Now, looking at my husband’s fake devoted expression, I just felt nauseous. Seeing my silence, Adrian thought I disagreed again, and his tone became even more earnest. “As my wife, you should understand my good intentions. Otherwise, I married you for nothing. Don’t worry, this is just a fake divorce. Once the company gets through this crisis, I’ll remarry you immediately.” Before he could finish, I interrupted coldly, “Fine, let’s divorce then.” Before he could react, I grabbed the divorce agreement and signed it cleanly. After seeing through Adrian’s true face, I didn’t want to be entangled with him for even a moment longer. Adrian was shocked by my decisiveness. After all, he had been pressuring me to divorce for half a month. He had even sent debt collectors to my house to smash things and intimidate me. When I was trembling with fear, he would appear with deep affection, proposing divorce under the pretense of not wanting me to suffer. But that only made me more determined to stick it out with him. Thinking about it now, it was truly laughable. Just as Adrian was about to speak, Melissa’s pained cry came from outside the door. The man rushed out to check on her. Melissa held her scalded hand pitifully. “Mr. Grant, I’m fine.” Clearly not even her skin was red, yet Adrian’s eyes were full of concern. “How can you be fine? I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” Watching Adrian’s retreating figure without a backward glance, I smiled bitterly. In five years of marriage, he had never treated me this way. In the early days of our startup, when I fainted from period pain after working overtime, he blamed me for dirtying the chair. But now, he didn’t blame Melissa for clumsily spilling coffee. Instead, he worried about whether she was burned. I was so stupid before. The two of them were so obvious, yet I didn’t see their affair. I even ran around outside for their love, using my hard-earned money to build their future together. After Adrian left, I walked out of the office. Instantly, the envious and congratulatory looks my colleagues had been directing at the two of them turned into mockery and ridicule aimed at me. “Did that old hag get scolded by Mr. Grant again?” “She clings to Mr. Grant like glue every day. At her age, she has no shame. What makes her think she can compete with Miss Hart with that old face?” “Miss Hart is ten times younger and prettier than her, a perfect match for Mr. Grant. As for her, she smells of old age and can’t compare to a single strand of Miss Hart’s hair!” … This wasn’t the first time my colleagues had mocked me to my face. I had been married to Adrian for five years, but he refused to make it public, claiming he was worried people at the company would say I got in through the back door. To avoid suspicion, he wouldn’t pick me up after work, making me take the subway and bus by myself. He was always cold and impartial to me at the company. My colleagues were convinced Adrian hated me and often targeted me to curry favor with him. Facing this humiliation, Adrian had always watched coldly, telling me this was his way of tempering my will. Before, I firmly believed he still had feelings for me and swallowed my grievances in silence. Now, I had seen through his true face! I laughed lightly. “A bunch of people who can’t meet their targets—what right do you have to mock me, the top performer? If I were you, I’d be too ashamed to even stay at this company.” After shutting them down, I ignored their livid expressions and returned to my workstation. As soon as I sat down, Adrian called, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Quinn, Melissa needs to be hospitalized for rest and can’t work. As her colleague, you should share her workload. Hurry up and deliver the files to Mr. Lee at Sanctum.” Then Melissa’s gloating voice came through. “Mr. Grant, that’s not appropriate. You know what Mr. Lee is like. Quinn will be taken advantage of.” Adrian sneered. “He’s just an old pervert. It’s not like she hasn’t dealt with this kind of man before. Besides, she’s in her thirties—what man would want to take advantage of an old woman? You, on the other hand, are the one most likely to be taken advantage of.” Without waiting for my refusal, Adrian hung up and sent me a message telling me where the files were. All along, Adrian had pushed projects involving sleazy old men onto me, afraid Melissa would be sullied in the slightest. After I finished the business while holding back my disgust, he would give all the credit and bonuses to Melissa. Thinking of this, I deleted Adrian from my messages. I took out my phone and sent a message to the relevant personnel. [Hello, I want to register a patent.] The staff accepted it immediately. The reason the company developed so quickly was entirely due to the patent I held. I had originally wanted to use this patent to help Adrian pay off the company’s debts, but now he didn’t deserve it. This time, I would register it first and completely monopolize the patent rights. Then all the products his company produced would be infringing. You like pretending to be bankrupt? I’ll make you truly bankrupt!

After finishing all this, I was about to rest when my colleagues habitually dumped their unfinished work on my desk. They ordered me to complete it for them as if it were a matter of course. Someone even stuck a sticky note on my head telling me to go downstairs and buy things for them. I had complained about this several times before, but each time Adrian told me to be more generous, saying my colleagues were just showing their trust in me. And I would brainwash myself and accept it resignedly. After all, this was a company I had built with my own hands. I didn’t want it to be destroyed. But over time, in their eyes, I became a soft persimmon they could bully and order around at will. But I wasn’t a soft persimmon. I had just loved the wrong person. I swept my cold gaze over these people and threw the documents on my desk into the trash, tearing the sticky note to pieces. “The company doesn’t support useless people, and I’m not your mother to clean up your messes!” “If you can’t do anything, what are you doing at work? You might as well be reborn and start over!” “If you put garbage on my desk again, I’ll throw it directly into the shredder, grind it into powder, and stuff it in your mouths!” My colleagues stood frozen in shock. As the atmosphere grew tense, Adrian returned, supporting Melissa. Seeing me, Adrian stormed over angrily and shoved his phone in my face. “I told you to deliver the files to Mr. Lee, but you’re here slacking off instead. Because of you, Mr. Lee gave Melissa a tongue-lashing!” Looking up, I saw the phone screen displayed a conversation. Because I didn’t arrive at the restaurant at the time Adrian specified. Mr. Lee sent a sarcastic message to Adrian: [Mr. Grant, if Miss Hart doesn’t want to meet with me, you can just say so. There’s no need to leave me hanging here. It seems your company’s sincerity about this cooperation isn’t very high.] Adrian immediately apologized to Mr. Lee. Mr. Lee blocked him directly. Coming back to reality, Melissa stood nearby, crying. “Quinn, you can hate me, but you don’t need to jeopardize everyone’s jobs at the company, do you?” “Mr. Grant, I should personally apologize to Mr. Lee. I’m not like some people who are selfish and take their salary for nothing…” Adrian slammed the table hard upon hearing this. “You don’t need to apologize. Someone else needs to!” Seeing my complete indifference, Adrian roared again, “Quinn, you’ve done something that harms the company’s interests. Shouldn’t you apologize to everyone?” My colleagues gloated and nodded in agreement. I sneered back, “Isn’t Melissa the one harming the company’s interests? Mr. Lee specifically asked to meet with her to discuss cooperation, but she didn’t go because of a minor injury and made me, someone who wasn’t even involved in the project, do it for her. Isn’t this her shirking work and responsibility?” Everyone was speechless. They wanted to refute me, but I had presented solid reasoning they couldn’t find fault with. Melissa’s eyes quickly reddened as she returned to her workstation to pack her things. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I’m sorry, everyone. It’s all my fault. I’ll leave and won’t get in Quinn’s way anymore.” Adrian grabbed her wrist. My colleagues also comforted her, saying it wasn’t her fault, while making veiled accusations against me. “Mr. Grant, Quinn is twisting the truth. Miss Hart must have had a valid reason. And just now Quinn yelled at everyone like a lunatic, even accusing and threatening us.” Adrian immediately glared at me. “Quinn, apologize to everyone right now, or you can get lost!!” Everyone was certain I would cave, looking down at me with raised chins, waiting for my humble apology. At that moment, my phone received a notification. [Miss Quinn, your patent application has been approved.] I smiled. “Suit yourself.” Anyway, the patent application had been approved. After reporting the infringement, the company’s bankruptcy was just a matter of time. Even if they begged me to stay, I wouldn’t. As my words fell, everyone looked shocked. Melissa took the opportunity to add fuel to the fire. “Quinn, you did something like this and you still have the nerve to smile? Do you not take Mr. Grant seriously at all?” Everyone nodded in agreement. Just as everyone expected Adrian to fire me on the spot, he suddenly took a deep breath. “Quinn, considering that at your age it would be hard to find another job, I’ll only dock one month’s salary and won’t hold it against you. Come to my office.”

Melissa glared at me resentfully, not expecting Adrian to side with me. I followed Adrian into the office with a skeptical look, thinking he had changed. But he hadn’t. He was just slapping me before giving me a piece of candy. In the office, Adrian held my hand with a look of helplessness. “As my wife, why can’t you be as considerate as Melissa? The fake divorce is to avoid dragging you down!” “It’s one thing if you don’t understand my good intentions, but you embarrassed me in front of so many people.” “Didn’t I tell you? Once the company gets through this, I’ll remarry you immediately.” I shook off his hand, my face cold with a sneer. He really was a master at pretending to be devoted, still thinking he could fool me completely. But the company was indeed about to go bankrupt as he wished. I hoped he could remain this calm when that time came. Seeing my silence, Adrian thought he had convinced me and took out a stack of documents from his drawer for me to sign. I pretended to be confused, and he patted my head earnestly. “This is a project transfer agreement. I want you to transfer all your projects to Melissa.” “Didn’t you say before that you wanted to prepare for pregnancy and have a child? You shouldn’t overwork yourself and need to rest well. Don’t worry, I’ll give you compensation, and Melissa will do her best to complete the projects for you.” No wonder he suddenly spoke up for me. There was profit in it. I was worried about how to handle these hot potatoes after the company went bankrupt. Now someone was willing to shoulder the burden for me—why not? I signed with a smile. Adrian was very satisfied. After transferring the money to me, he called Melissa in. In front of Adrian, Melissa expressed her thanks with false sincerity, a hint of triumph flashing in her eyes. I ignored her and pretended to walk out of the office. In reality, I hid by the door, carefully eavesdropping. As soon as I left, Melissa couldn’t wait to rush into Adrian’s arms, hooking her arms around his neck and swaying as she pouted. “Adrian, I’m angry. You actually sided with that old hag instead of helping me!” “Baby, how could she deserve my help? I was paving the way for you. I just tricked the old woman into transferring all her projects to you.” “I finally kicked her out. Later I can get our marriage license with you and use her money to buy you a big mansion. How about that?” Melissa kissed his face hard. “Honey, you’re amazing!” Watching their inseparable figures. I turned around, leaving while taking out my phone to decisively report Adrian’s company for infringement to the relevant authorities. Processing would take some time. When the time came, Adrian’s and the company’s death would not be far off. Returning to my workstation, I ignored my colleagues’ mocking expressions. Instead of working hard as usual, I slacked off the entire day. … As soon as it was time to clock out, I went straight home to pack my luggage, planning to move out and cut ties with Adrian completely. As soon as I entered, I saw two brand-new marriage certificates on the table. In the wedding photo, Adrian and Melissa were smiling brightly. The bedroom door was wide open. Adrian had his back to me, tangled with Melissa on the bedsheets I had carefully chosen. Seeing me, Melissa smugly showed off the wedding ring on her hand, several times larger than the one I had when I got married. If this were before, I would have been jealous and lost my mind. But now, I was expressionless and turned to leave. It was even better that they were married. That way, when the company went bankrupt, neither of them could escape! That night, I slept comfortably in a hotel. The next day, I arrived early at the new product launch venue, only to be stopped outside. Melissa walked out smugly, her face full of mockery. “Quinn, on behalf of Mr. Grant, I’m officially notifying you that you’ve been fired.” “Haha, today is the launch of the new product you developed, but it’s a pity you can’t see it anymore. Your husband has handed everything over to me. From now on, I’ll replace you, become famous, and make a fortune!” Adrian came looking for Melissa and showed no emotion when he saw me. “What are you doing here making a fool of yourself?” “The product inside is what I designed.” “What do you mean ‘your product’? This is a product jointly developed by our company, and you’re no longer part of the company. Leave now!” What a perfect example of discarding someone after using them. But not only was I not angry, I smiled. Melissa thought I had gone crazy. “What are you laughing at?” “Of course I’m laughing at your imminent doom.” This morning, the report had been processed, and news of the company’s infringement quickly climbed to the top of the trending topics. Just as I was about to speak, a group of reporters arrived at the venue. Adrian thought they were here to interview him and immediately puffed out his chest. “I didn’t expect you to arrive so quickly. Our new product launch won’t start for a while.” Melissa took his arm, looking at me coldly. “Security, kick out the irrelevant people who have nothing to do with the launch. Don’t block my camera.” The two stood in front of the camera together, ready to speak at length. The next second, a reporter asked. “Mr. Grant, what is your opinion on your company’s infringement of a private patent?”

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On New Year’s Day, my childhood friend Paul asked for the passcode to my new house. When I went to check on the place that weekend, I opened the door only to be shocked by over a dozen strangers inside. Paul walked over to me with a smile: “Lena, what brings you here? Come on in—you’re in luck. I’m hosting a family dinner right now.” I stood there completely bewildered. Before I could even voice my confusion, his girlfriend snapped: “Why does she have your house passcode and can just waltz in whenever she wants?” Paul immediately explained: “She said she got into a fight with her family and got kicked out with nowhere to stay, so I let her crash here for a few days.” Upon hearing this, his girlfriend’s face filled with contempt: “How shameless! Who knows how many men she’s begged to get what she wants.” Paul gave her a thumbs up: “You’re absolutely right! Last time she wanted to buy some designer bag she liked, she stripped naked and begged me for it.” His girlfriend covered her mouth, stifling a laugh. Seeing Paul lie so shamelessly, I rushed forward and slapped him hard across the face: “Who the hell do you think you are? You take over my house and slander me—get out!”

The moment I opened the door, the dozen or so people standing in the living room froze in unison, looking just as shocked as I was. “A thief?” A woman in her fifties shrieked first: “Breaking into my house in broad daylight—how audacious! Grab her and beat her senseless.” She was turning the tables on me. How shameless. Furious, I pulled out pepper spray from my bag: “This is MY house. You’re all trespassing, and if you lay a hand on me, that’s illegal. I’m calling the police to sort this out.” The people who’d rushed forward hastily retreated, cursing under their breath: “She’s got tricks up her sleeve. Get the mop—I don’t believe we can’t handle her.” Just as those words left her mouth, Paul burst out of the kitchen to stop them: “Don’t call the police, don’t fight—this is all a misunderstanding.” He smiled as he tried to calm the others down, then walked toward me while shooting me meaningful looks: “Lena, what are you doing here? Come on in—you’ve got great timing. You caught us right in the middle of our family dinner.” I frowned, completely confused. Before I could ask my questions, his girlfriend Lauren leaned against the doorframe and suddenly said in a mocking tone: “Paul, is this childhood friend of yours especially sweet-tongued or something?” Paul stopped in his tracks and raised an eyebrow at her: “Babe, I don’t even need to taste to know—her mouth isn’t one ten-thousandth as sweet as yours.” Lauren shot him a coy glare: “Stop it, I wasn’t talking about that.” Their public flirting drew a round of laughter from everyone else. I felt sick to my stomach—like a trusted partner had pushed me out to be used as a stepping stone. At that thought, my voice rose sharply in confrontation: “Paul, you brought outsiders here without my permission…” But before I could finish, Lauren cut me off with a shrill interruption: “Paul, I’m really curious how she sweet-talked you into giving her your door code. If we hadn’t been here today, what was she planning to do with you?” The smile vanished from Paul’s face instantly, replaced by a grave expression: “Whatever she was planning, I’d never give her any opportunity. You’re the only one in my eyes.” “She didn’t sweet-talk the code out of me—she got on her knees and begged for it. Said she fought with her family, got kicked out, and had nowhere to go. You know I’ve always been soft-hearted, so I gave it to her without thinking much about it.” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. We’d grown up together, and this was the first time I’d witnessed him openly fabricate lies, destroying someone’s reputation in seconds. I was too stunned to react for a long moment. Lauren’s face filled with contempt: “Most girls couldn’t be this shameless. Who knows how many men she’s begged to get what she wants.” Paul gave her a thumbs up: “Babe, you’re so smart. Last time she wanted to buy some bag she liked, she stripped naked and begged me. I told you about it afterward.” At this, Lauren covered her mouth to suppress her laughter: “Oh, so it was her. How shameless.” Lauren’s mother led the others in loud mockery: “Her figure can’t be that great, right?” Paul wrinkled his nose and shook his head: “I didn’t look. Probably like a fat pig, though.” After saying this, he looked at his girlfriend expectantly. Lauren smiled and praised him: “That’s my man—knows where to draw the line.” “Looking at a woman with that kind of body would be painful.” Their back-and-forth ridicule, treating me like a plaything for their amusement, was utterly disgusting. I suppressed the fury burning in my chest: “Paul, for your mother’s sake, I’ll give you one more chance. Take them and get the hell out. I can pretend this never happened—otherwise, I’m sending all of you to prison.”

“Big talk from you. I’m so scared.” Lauren sneered: “Oh right, I forgot you’re some hotshot lawyer who crawls out of god-knows-whose bed every morning, throwing your weight around at us ordinary people.” Paul’s eyes flashed with panic as he tugged at her sleeve: “There are so many people here—give her some face.” Lauren yanked her arm away forcefully, shouting in displeasure: “What, you feel sorry for her?” “Or am I wrong? She snuck in here today to seduce you, didn’t she?” Lauren’s mother chimed in: “Exactly. One look at her face and you can tell she’s a shameless homewrecker who sleeps her way to the top.” The others joined in the mockery, each more foul-mouthed than the last. What I couldn’t accept most was Lauren constantly emphasizing this was her house. The fury in my chest kept churning. With a dark expression, I warned: “According to the law, spreading sexual rumors and trespassing can get you sentenced to 1-5 years in prison.” If it weren’t for your mother being colleagues with my parents, having such a good relationship, and our families being neighbors for years, I would never waste words with them—I’d go straight to the police. “Paul, I don’t care what reason you had for bringing these people to my house, but apologizing and leaving now is still an option.” Upon hearing this, Lauren acted like she’d heard the funniest joke: “Your house? Keep dreaming.” “You’re so used to being the other woman that now you want to steal my boyfriend and take over his house? Let me tell you, he’ll never marry a slut like you who’s been passed around by everyone.” At that moment, I nearly couldn’t resist spraying her with pepper spray, but legally speaking, whoever strikes first is in the wrong. I could only rebut angrily: “I’ve always conducted myself properly, unlike you who’s been with countless men. Only trash like Paul would be a match for you.” “I’ll say it one more time—I bought this house for $150,000. It’s not your place to act out here.” With that, I pulled out my phone to call the police. But Paul, whose eyes had been darting around nervously, suddenly went crazy and snatched my phone, smashing it violently on the ground while roaring at me: “Lena, don’t push your luck!” “What do you mean ‘your house’? You transferred it to me last month to settle a debt. Don’t even think about going back on it.” Lauren’s eyes widened instantly: “What? This house was transferred to settle a debt?” She looked disgusted: “I don’t want some dump where this slut has lived. Who knows how many men she’s brought back here. So gross.” Lauren’s mother and the others fanned the flames: “Paul, do you look down on our Lauren? The wedding house is secondhand? Without $66,000 in betrothal gifts, forget about marrying her.” Hearing this, Paul frantically apologized: “Everyone, I didn’t explain clearly. This is a brand new house, definitely not secondhand. If you don’t believe me, you can check online or even ask the property management—it was just handed over last month.” When he turned to look at me, hatred roiled in his eyes, each word dripping with venom: “Lena, no matter how much you make a scene, it’s useless. I could never like trash like you.” “If you’re really that desperate for a man, Lauren’s uncle happens to be single. For old times’ sake, I’ll introduce you to him first.” Lauren’s uncle’s eyes lit up with a lecherous smile: “Sure! I don’t mind that she sleeps around.” He reached out to grab me: “Come on, let’s find somewhere private for some fun.” His words sparked a round of laughter. Seeing Paul’s disgusting face joining in the mockery, the fury in my chest erupted completely. I rushed forward and slapped him hard: “Who the hell do you think you are? You take over my house, slander me—wait for the lawsuit.”

Paul clutched his face in disbelief: “You actually dare to hit me?” I was shaking with rage, trying my best to stay calm as I argued: “You brought over a dozen people to occupy my property and refuse to leave. You led wave after wave of verbal abuse against me and deliberately had people grope me. I had no choice but to defend myself.” Hearing this, Lauren furiously raised her foot to kick me: “Lena, you dare touch my man? You’re asking for death!” Since I dodged quickly, she lunged into empty air and fell heavily to the ground, screaming in pain. This caused complete chaos. Lauren’s mother and her relatives chased after me: “Bitch!” To avoid getting hurt, I ran from the stairs all the way down to the ground floor, shouting in terror: “Fire! Someone help!” The tactic worked. Soon people walking in the neighborhood gathered around. I immediately changed my story in panic: “No wait—it’s murder! Someone’s trying to kill me to take over my house.” At that moment, Lauren’s mother and the others came running down with kitchen knives and mops. Seeing me hiding behind a group of neighbors, they jumped up and down in frustration: “Bitch, you found more men to protect you in the blink of an eye. Come here if you dare.” The neighbors—both men and women—were immediately offended and started arguing with them. I said quietly: “Please call the police. They broke my phone.” Just then, Paul came down supporting Lauren. Seeing the situation, he immediately played the victim and explained to the neighbors: “Everyone, the truth is she owes me $200,000 and used this $150,000 house to settle the debt. Now she’s shamelessly trying to take it back.” “I have the transfer agreement in black and white with her signature—Lena’s name is right on it.” He pulled out a stack of documents to show everyone. The neighbors crowded forward. After reading the contents, they turned to me: “Are you Lena?” I sensed trouble: “That transfer agreement is definitely fake. I never signed it.” As soon as I said this, the neighbors’ expressions changed, their eyes filling with more wariness. Lauren then shouted indignantly: “She’s a pathological liar. Everyone stay away from her, or she’ll seduce your husbands next.” “If I hadn’t been home today, she would have stripped naked and thrown herself at my boyfriend. Absolutely shameless.” “When that didn’t work, she threatened to burn down the house. Tell me, doesn’t someone like her deserve a beating?” Under her baseless slander, the neighbors immediately turned against me, cursing me out: “You almost tricked us into wrongly accusing good people. How despicable.” Some of her relatives mixed into the crowd and shouted: “Yeah, someone like her needs a good beating to teach her a lesson so she won’t dare seduce other people’s men again.” One sentence made everyone clench their fists, ready to attack me. I tried to explain, but Lauren suddenly attacked from behind, kicking me hard: “That’s for trying to set a fire earlier! If it had actually caught, think of all the property damage. You don’t care because it’s not yours, right?” Her angry tone sounded righteous, making those who didn’t know the truth believe her, though her eyes couldn’t hide her smugness. Paul chimed in: “My girlfriend is absolutely right. This person grew up with me, and she’s not only a compulsive liar but also a gambling addict. Who knows how many men she’s been with for money. Everyone should watch out for trash like her.” After speaking, he put on a pained expression—utterly disgusting. I was in so much pain that cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Clutching my stomach, I struggled to stand: “Paul, every word you say carries legal consequences.” “Everyone, please call the property management. I never did any property transfer—one check will prove it.” Hearing this, Paul smirked: “Call them then. Who’s afraid? Only liars get nervous.”

The property management staff arrived quickly. Seeing thirty-plus people surrounding me so tightly I couldn’t move, they immediately realized the seriousness of the situation and hurried to understand what happened. “The owner registered here is Paul.” The property manager looked me up and down: “You… I think I’ve seen you more than once coming and going with different male owners from Phase Two.” His one sentence caused an immediate uproar. Especially those neighbors—with several of Lauren’s relatives constantly adding fuel to the fire, they unanimously viewed me as a homewrecker everyone should condemn. “Shameless! No wonder when she ran over just now, she crowded around the men. Turns out she’s a repeat offender.” “Exactly. So damn arrogant. We owners need to unite against sluts like her.” Accompanied by insults and abuse coming in waves, these people’s emotions grew increasingly angry, the scene nearly spiraling out of control. No matter how I explained, they wouldn’t listen. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the property manager and Paul exchanging knowing smirks. That’s when I remembered—when I bought the house, Paul had pushed hard to recommend this neighborhood. Clearly, he’d been planning to seize my property all along. How despicable. “Everyone, please listen to me…” I shouted with all my strength, but suddenly an old woman attacked me with spit: “Ptui! What more do you want to say? Stop playing tricks—we won’t fall for it.” The stench of her breath hit me in the face. I nearly vomited and had to quickly back away, but Lauren’s uncle grabbed my arm. “Right, this little slut is good at playing the victim to deceive people. A few days ago she said she had no money for food and would keep me company for two hours for just two hundred bucks. Scary.” Pretending to be an angry resident, he kept pushing and shoving me while taking the opportunity to grope me. I was furious and slapped him across the face. “You’re slandering me. I will sue…” Before I could finish, his face twisted viciously as he swung his fist at me. I tried to dodge, but two of Lauren’s relatives grabbed me directly, restraining my hands behind my back so I couldn’t move. He slapped me twice across the face, immediately making my mouth bleed. Paul applauded: “Well done! Trash like her deserves a good lesson. Everyone line up to slap her.” Hearing this, Lauren’s mother led her relatives to act first, slaps raining down one after another. Lauren covered her mouth and laughed from the side, shouting: “Bitch, you deserve this! This is what you get for seducing someone’s boyfriend.” Hearing this, Paul publicly kissed her: “Having a girlfriend to protect me is such bliss.” My face was swollen and painful from the beating. I kept struggling and explaining that the property transfer was fake, but no one would listen. “Paul, I have the property deed for this house. Do you?” Hearing my roar, Paul immediately had them stop: “Everyone hold on a moment. This woman still won’t give up—she insists on producing her property deed to slap me in the face.” “Should we give her one more chance?” Lauren and her group clearly didn’t want to, but under my adamant defense and some neighbors’ insistence, Paul showed some conscience and helped me call my parents. After waiting about half an hour, my parents and Paul’s mother rushed over. Before they could say a word to me, they hurried to produce the property deed. Opening it, everyone immediately panicked: “Let’s see you try to weasel out of this now!” Paul and Lauren exchanged glances, both their faces showing triumphant smiles. “Lena, we’ve been more than fair—gave you more than one chance. Your parents brought this property deed themselves. What more do you have to say?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “360723”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller #重生Reborn