Category: English

When I caught Julian with his mistress, after his car was rear-ended, he just leaned out the window and smiled at the paparazzi. “Got a scandal on your hands? Make sure you find my wife. She *loves* dealing with this kind of news.” Whenever my name, Mrs. Thorne, came up, everyone in the social circle would say the same thing, almost in unison: “She was a nobody who snagged a rich husband. She’d never dare to leave.” No one remembered that when Julian married me, he’d graciously introduced me, almost as if he was doing them a favor: “This is my wife. She’s young, so please be patient with her.” Everyone assumed I’d throw money at the paparazzi, just like I always did. They thought I’d smooth over the gossip, and keep up the facade of a loving power couple with Julian. But this time, I simply walked into Grandfather Thorne’s study. “It’s been three years. You should let me go.” There’s an unwritten rule among Hong Kong’s tabloids. If a entertainment reporter’s monthly performance isn’t up to par, they just need to stake out Julian Thorne, CEO of Concord Group. He cycles through a new lover every month, flaunting them openly, making it effortless to snap a picture. Men will be men, a little scandal is normal. But his wife, she has to maintain appearances, uphold her reputation. If you capture his latest affair, just take the evidence to her and name your price. She’ll pay for it all. However, old habits sometimes meet new circumstances. When a rookie paparazzo from the Daily Scoop brought a video to Julian, only to be sent to me, I had just arrived home from the office. My villa sat atop Victoria Peak, offering a panoramic view of the entire Victoria Harbour skyline. The voice on my phone continued, unskilled yet surprisingly shrewd, asking for an outrageous amount. “Mrs. Thorne, it’s just two million. That’s like, what you pay for a handbag, right? Just two million to buy off your husband’s scandal. Such a bargain! If you’ve decided, just call this number…” This paparazzo wasn’t very bright. His first time tailing Julian, and the second time he was brazen enough to knock on Julian’s car window. Julian’s cars were hard to identify; he changed them frequently, with hundreds in his garage. Yet, for those few days, he kept driving the same one. In the video the paparazzo sent me, Julian lowered his window. In the passenger seat sat a woman dressed provocatively. Last month, when I received photos, that seat was occupied by a rising starlet from mainland China. Julian took off his sunglasses, revealing an almost flawless face to the camera. He crooked a finger at the paparazzo. As the man approached, Julian’s voice was languid, coaxing him gently, “Newbie? So clueless. After you take the pictures, you go to my wife. I won’t give you a dime.” “Don’t have my wife’s contact information?” He pulled out a piece of paper, scribbled a few numbers, and casually tossed it into the paparazzo’s arms. Then, he glanced at the woman beside him and clicked his tongue, “Get out.” She leaned in, whining, “Mr. Thorne, didn’t you say three days? It’s only been a few hours…” Julian tossed a card at her, then pressed the unlock button. “You got caught in just a few hours. Get out, or do you want me to physically kick you out? Scram.” I turned off the video, my face calm, and sat at the dining table. The maid had meticulously laid out dinner, dish after dish. The clock in the grand hall chimed eight times.

I looked up at the clock, a gift Julian had brought me from France seven years ago, now swaying listlessly, looking worn. I applied to Hong Kong University at seventeen and met Julian when I was eighteen. Back then, he was understated, except for his perfectly sculpted face. He knew everything, but he’d pretend to be clumsy, saying he’d forgotten it all and needed me to teach him. After just half a month, people who knew him whispered to me, “You think he’s just a pretty face? He’s the heir to Concord Group, and his dad’s running for office.” Later, Julian left campus. He wouldn’t listen to reason, driving back and forth between Hong Kong University and Central every day. For those few years, we argued occasionally, but loved each other constantly. My heart would close, then open, then close again. At twenty-five, after countless obstacles, I married Julian. That wedding for the ages is still documented in old newspapers. One small tabloid, desperate for attention, ran a headline that overshadowed all the major papers. It was sensational, but completely disrespectful. Julian saw the paper the morning after our wedding. After reading it, he silently placed his water glass on top of the paper. I later learned that sensational paper turned out to be the last one that tabloid ever published. Looking back, piece by piece, I realized how deeply Julian and I had once been in love. But how did it all come to this, like that old clock, its swing utterly lifeless? In the quiet of the grand hall, the elevator’s digital display flickered, stopping at the third floor just as the doors slid open. Julian emerged, his suit jacket casually draped over his arm. Even the harsh overhead light in the elevator couldn’t diminish the sharp angles of his face. I glanced at him, then looked away, refocusing on the dishes before me. A minute later, I heard the soft thud of his jacket being tossed onto the sofa. Immediately, a hint of oud and the warmth of his body enveloped me. Julian stood behind me, hands braced on the table, as if he was about to pull me into an embrace. His voice was nonchalant, “Good evening, Mrs. Thorne. Let’s see, how much is this latest news worth?” My phone lay on the table. He tapped a few times, navigating to my messages. “Two million? Journalists’ appetites these days are smaller than your dinner bill. Anyone would think my net worth has depreciated.” I put down my forks, sitting up straight, maintaining a half-fist’s distance from his chest. Instead of answering, I changed the subject. “I won’t approve Anastasia’s direct placement as Head of Public Relations. Her application will be rejected.” Sure enough, at the mention of that name, Julian straightened up, the encompassing presence instantly vanishing. He sat opposite me, hands resting on the back of his chair, his gaze drifting to the beautiful night outside the window. “Her matters don’t concern you.” “Or perhaps…” Julian’s gaze shifted back, propping his chin, he looked at me, “You just don’t like her?” I looked straight into his eyes, searching for something, but found nothing. Outsiders only saw that Julian’s parade of lovers never stopped these past two years. No one knew he was actually using them as a smokescreen for Anastasia. Two years ago, Julian sent her abroad for a ‘gold-plating’ education, intending for her to be directly placed in the company upon her return. It wasn’t that I disliked her; I was simply being practical. Concord Group’s hiring criteria are incredibly strict. A candidate’s primary degree must be from a QS Top 30 university, otherwise, they’re not even considered. Anastasia only has a high school diploma. She worked at a department store at eighteen. The ‘gold-plating’ school was a diploma mill. There’s no way to justify her hiring, even if we were trying to make an exception for talent. My voice was faint. “I’m speaking about company business, not personal feelings.” Julian didn’t reply. After a moment, I heard a voice message from his phone. A voice, syrupy sweet and undeniably seductive: “Mr. Thorne, my little undies are still in your car. When would be a good time for me to pick them up?” The phone’s speaker seemed intentionally loud, the words echoed mockingly in my ears. Julian looked at me, raising the phone to his lips, his voice lazy, “Wrong number, miss.” I gazed at his indifferent expression, trying to recall how he used to love me.

In the beginning, Julian would still confess and apologize. The gift he sent Anastasia was incredibly valuable, and it inadvertently took the spot I’d originally reserved. The circle of the wealthy is too small; a single clue can unravel a massive scandal. Julian rushed home, handing over all his phone, bank cards, and a dozen other account passwords. “She helped me with a small favor. Alex picked out the gift. I’ll give him hell for it later.” He only offered a brief explanation, and I believed him. There was no reason not to. But that day, Anastasia, somehow learning about the big fight Julian and I had, appeared. On a rainy day, she knelt dramatically at the villa’s entrance: “Mrs. Thorne, there’s truly nothing between Mr. Thorne and me. You must believe us.” It was so clearly an attempt to cover up something, it just screamed ‘guilty!’ Anger burned away all rationality, so I didn’t see the flicker of pity in Julian’s eyes as he looked down from the floor-to-ceiling window that day. A man feeling pity for a woman might be the start of a romance for two, but for three, it’s a dangerous game. But none of that truly mattered; the hardest days were long behind me. If I remembered correctly, today was November 27th, leaving only a few days until my three-year term with Grandfather Thorne expired. I looked at Julian, about to speak. He suddenly received a call. The voice from the other end faintly leaked out. It was Anastasia’s voice: “The electricity in my house is out. It’s pitch black, and I’m a little scared.” “Wait there, I’m coming.” Julian stood up, glanced at me, and I swallowed the words on my tongue. Since I didn’t speak, he walked out without a backward glance. After Julian left, I drove to the Thorne family’s old estate. The Thorne estate was a sprawling compound of century-old mansions. Inside, the decor was a blend of East and West, a mix of antique and modern. Upon entering, Julian’s mother, Vivian, was sitting on the sofa, a maid massaging her shoulders. Hearing my arrival, she turned, glanced at me, then closed her eyes again. I didn’t bother her, going straight upstairs to the study. “Grandfather…” I considered my words carefully. “Three years have passed. I want to leave the Thorne family.” I knew then that Julian had outwardly sent Anastasia away, but in reality, he was sending her abroad to study. When I found out he was still flying back and forth between Hong Kong and Australia while I was hospitalized, I completely gave up hope. It was then that I sought out Grandfather Thorne, just as the Thorne family was facing internal turmoil. He asked me to stay for three more years, promising that if Julian remained incorrigible, he would personally arrange for me to leave the family. The armchair creaked softly. Grandfather Thorne opened his eyes, looking at me, and asked, “I thought three years would make you accustomed to things. Why do you still want to leave?” Seeing my silence, he sighed. “When you first wanted to marry into the Thorne family, you should have anticipated this. Look at Vivian. When she was young, she was even fiercer than you. Yet, in the end, didn’t she hold onto the title of Mrs. Thorne? All those illegitimate children couldn’t stir up a ripple, and the son she bore, Julian, is still the sole heir to the Thorne family.” Vivian was Julian’s mother, this woman, who now leads a life of quiet devotion, had an extraordinary force of personality in her youth. “Do you know what she relied on?” “What?” “She relied on my endorsement. As long as I say so, no one can steal your position as Mrs. Thorne. With my backing, those other women won’t threaten you.” “Besides, I’m not talking to you about feelings; I’m talking about a transaction. You’ve performed exceptionally well these past few years, both in the company and for the Thorne family. You’ve held everything together. It would take time and effort for us to cultivate another person like you. You can calculate whether leaving the Thorne family is worth it.” If we were to talk strictly about transactions and not feelings, this was undoubtedly the most advantageous deal. I poured him some tea and said softly, “You know, if it wasn’t about feelings, I wouldn’t even be here right now.” I had considered it too, holding firmly onto the title of legitimate wife, no matter how hard outsiders tried, they couldn’t enter the Thorne family’s doors. But I didn’t marry Julian to become Mrs. Thorne; I became Mrs. Thorne because I married Julian. Back then, I pushed him away, telling him his marriage wasn’t free, yet he still had the nerve to date me. Julian frowned, “What do you mean my marriage isn’t free? I have plenty of ways to marry you. You can’t go a day without seeing me, and you’re already talking about marrying someone else? Do you think I’m a good-for-nothing?” I didn’t believe him. What ‘ways’ could possibly bypass so many obstacles? Later, he didn’t bring it up again. He just gradually took over Concord Group, slowly integrating himself into the heart of the Thorne family. After graduation, I also successfully joined Concord Group, starting as an intern. Back then, I trained during the day, and Julian coached me personally at night, allowing me to grow incredibly fast. By the time we brought up marriage again, he was firmly established in the Thorne family, and no one dared to utter a word of dissent. He respected Grandfather Thorne, however, and the next day, he came up with a scheme to make the Old Master see reason. “You little rascal, did you really think I was old and senile, out of my mind?” Grandfather Thorne scoffed. “You dragged some pretty boy with slicked-back hair from an entertainment company, holding hands, ready to register their marriage. Did he think I’d be scared? I just turned a blind eye. I indulged you, and still you’re not satisfied.” “Now, after only a few years, you’re making a fuss about divorce again.” “Let me be clear. Once you leave the Thorne family, I won’t let you return. Think it over carefully before you decide.” I bowed my head, replaying the fleeting seven years of my marriage in my mind. “Leaving the Thorne family is something I’ve waited three years for.” He waved his hand. “Finish up your current affairs. Someone will contact you then.” When I came downstairs, Julian’s mother was still sitting on the sofa. I walked to the door, then turned back. “In the future, I won’t be able to offer you my well wishes. I hope you remain in good health.” After saying this, I turned and walked out. The living room of the Thorne estate was dimly lit. Vivian, shrouded in the dim light, looked straight ahead. All the light in the room seemed to be carried away by the figure walking swiftly out. As she watched, it was as if she saw a younger Vivian, walking out. Aunt Lee bent down and whispered in her ear, “Madam, it’s late. It’s time for bed.” The living room fell dim again. Vivian retracted her gaze. “Let’s go.” **TO BE CONTINUED…**

As I got into the car, I remembered I had to deal with my current affairs. I immediately arranged for the paparazzo to collect a check the next morning, buying off all of Julian’s gossip from today. The next time I received a message from Julian was a few days later. After Anastasia returned, he had reined himself in considerably. Remembering my deal with Grandfather Thorne, I told my driver to make a detour to pick Julian up. The door was open when we arrived. Inside, a group of people were playing cards, and Anastasia was among them. She had just won a big hand. The man opposite her flattered, “Ms. Anastasia, you’re on a roll tonight! You’re dominating the table; I’m about to lose my shirt. Have a heart, spare us!” Anastasia smiled, about to speak. Julian looked up and saw me at the doorway. He took a drag from his cigarette and scoffed, “The one standing at the door is your actual Mrs. Thorne. Are you blind, calling random women by her title? No wonder you can’t win a hand all night.” The man saw me and stood up in a panic. “M-Mrs. Thorne…” Anastasia, seeing me, paled. At this scene, I knew Julian was doing it on purpose. He always did this – deliberately made me watch, doing everything he could to force me into a divorce and make way, yet he’d stubbornly refuse to actually divorce me. His reason was simple enough: “She’s young and naive. I can keep her around for fun, but who would seriously marry her? One Mrs. Thorne is enough, and that’s you.” I surveyed the people in the room, left my driver behind, instructing him to pick up Julian later. Then I nodded politely and turned to leave. I had just reached the door when Anastasia blocked my path. The girl who was eighteen two years ago was now barely twenty, still fresh-faced and vibrant. She was slightly breathless, her voice a delicate whisper, “Mrs. Thorne, I’m so sorry. I truly didn’t mean to break up your family. I tried to leave, I tried to forget, but I couldn’t.” “I can’t forget Mr. Thorne. I love him very much, but please believe me, deep down, I really didn’t intend to destroy your family.” “Mr. Thorne and I… we just met too late. If he had met me back then, I would have been Mrs. Thorne…” “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. Anyway, I genuinely want to apologize to you. If there’s a next life, I’ll be your servant to atone.” “But in this life, I can’t give Mr. Thorne back to you. I’m sorry.” I looked her up and down. Two years ago, she could only afford clothes costing a few tens of dollars. Now, she was covered head to toe in understated luxury, a pair of shoes on her feet worth three years of her department store salary. There are many sparrows. I used to be one; now it’s Anastasia. I didn’t speak, and I wouldn’t stoop to speaking with her. I wouldn’t try to appeal to morality or conscience to awaken a mistress. If she knew how to spell ‘morals,’ she wouldn’t be so thrilled to be a mistress. “You should divorce Mr. Thorne!” Her voice called out behind me, “Release him!” Inside, the people exchanged glances. Someone dared to look at Julian, whose face was icy. “Julian, aren’t you going after Mrs. Thorne? When women get angry, they might actually file for divorce!” Julian looked at the image of the two-million-dollar check, lost in thought. After a moment, he chuckled, “Wouldn’t divorce be great? Free as a bird.”

Julian Thorne was the last in the family to find out about my divorce. When he heard the news, he raised an eyebrow at the person who delivered it. “What kind of joke is that?” Scarlett exaggerated, “What joke? Grandfather Thorne already agreed to it! Besides, you’ve been turning the house upside down these past two years, wasn’t it all just to get a divorce?” “If you ask me,” she leaned in conspiratorially, perched on the table, “if it’s over, it’s over. Men always end up despising a nagging wife.” She then added, “Kitty’s still waiting for you, you know? She hasn’t married all these years. If you divorce, maybe give her a chance?” Scarlett had always had a designated sister-in-law in mind, only for me to appear out of nowhere that year. On Julian’s wedding day, she was fuming with indignation, yet forced herself to smile and hand over a generous red envelope. Poor Kitty, she channeled her sorrow into strength from that day on, rejecting all men and becoming a workaholic. Julian, head aching, told her to get out. Scarlett grabbed her bag and shuffled out. As she exited, she bumped into Anastasia, who, perhaps having overheard their conversation, still had a smile lingering on her lips. Scarlett folded her arms and grinned. “Wow, that’s a wide grin. Like some kind of carnivorous plant. Are you going to eat babies? Delusional! Amelia could divorce eighteen times, and my sister-in-law’s position still wouldn’t be yours.” Anastasia’s expression remained unchanged, her tone gentle. “Then whose would it be? Your Kitty? She seems even more delusional.” Scarlett clapped her hands. “Typical mistress behavior, skin as thick as a fortress wall. You’re not fit to even tie Kitty’s shoelaces.” Anastasia watched her walk away, her gaze distant. Julian sent her abroad to study, bought her a house, and enabled her to live a high society life. And for her, he even fought with me for a divorce. First, it was Amelia; now, it was her. If Amelia could sit in the position of Mrs. Thorne, why couldn’t she? Two years ago, she knelt on Victoria Peak, gazing at the luxurious villa before her. Back then, she thought, one day, the doors of that villa would open for her.

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Caleb Thorne, the cold CEO, pressed me against the mirror, his grip tight around my neck. He was lost in a haze of desire, his endearments, “babe,” growing more impassioned with each whisper. Before I met Caleb, I never imagined I had such a wild side. We’d been everywhere – his office desk in the CEO’s suite, in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows at art exhibitions, by the railings of a yacht… Whenever Caleb wanted me, I’d succumb to his every whim. But this time, after it was over, I felt like a discarded rag, carelessly tossed aside. Looking at my disheveled reflection in the mirror, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Then, I dialed Mr. Blackwood. “That disabled heir from the Hayes family? I’ll marry him.” … “Really?” His voice on the other end of the line was barely able to contain his excitement. “That’s my girl! You always were my good daughter, you…” “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” I cut him off. “I have conditions.” Mr. Blackwood was visibly stunned, a forced smile finally creeping onto his face a moment later. “Of course, darling. Name them, your father will agree to anything.” “We’ll discuss it when I get back.” With that, I hung up. I couldn’t stand to hear that sickening voice a second longer. “Who were you talking to just now?” Caleb walked out, towel-drying his hair, his tone lazy. “My best friend.” My indifferent reply made a flicker of surprise flash in Caleb’s eyes. But he quickly dismissed it. Perhaps I was just having a minor tantrum, and he could easily smooth it over with a few sweet words. But right now, he didn’t have time. “I’m heading out for a bit. Be a good girl and wait for me. I’ll bring you back some gourmet macarons.” Caleb buttoned the last button on his shirt, ready to leave. I let out a cold laugh. “Are you off for ‘business,’ or a date?” “What?” Caleb was busy replying to a message on his phone, a small smile playing on his lips every now and then. He wasn’t even listening to me. “Nothing. Drive safe. Don’t get hit by a car.” I kicked aside the shredded dress and changed into a more appropriate outfit. He looked up, seeing me give him a playful look, and chuckled. “Don’t be silly. I’ll make it up to you when I get back.” As I watched his back disappear, my eyes hardened. Just five hours earlier, at a banquet. I stepped onto the balcony to get some air when I was suddenly pulled into a warm embrace. “Caleb, what are you…” Before I could finish, his hand was already inside my dress. His hot breath on my face made me tremble uncontrollably. “This… this isn’t a good place…” I pleaded, shame coloring my cheeks, but he only intensified his movements. “Sweetheart, if you don’t want anyone to find us, and you don’t want me to ruin your dress, then be a good girl and listen.” The next second, I gave up all resistance, lost in his passionate kiss. The way I whispered “Caleb” in my passion only added to my allure. After it ended. I hugged him, cautiously asking, “Caleb, I’ll be twenty-eight next month. Are you going to marry me?” His body stiffened, his eyes regaining their usual calm and distant look. “Just a little longer, it’ll be soon.” “I’ve already picked out the wedding ring.” He finished, then kissed my forehead. Watching his figure disappear around the corner, a hint of joy spread across my face. I stumbled as I put my scattered clothes back on, then walked briskly towards the private room. But at the door, I heard laughter spilling out from inside. “I never would’ve thought Aria Blackwood was such a slut!” “How else could she be Caleb’s practice dummy?” I gasped, clamping a hand over my mouth, frozen in place. The voices from inside continued. “Thorne, it’s been long enough. You must have perfected your technique by now, right?” “In high school, you liked that girl, and we all offered to help you pursue her, but you insisted on finding someone to ‘practice’ with first, to give her the perfect romance experience.” “Now your first love is coming back. Isn’t it time for Aria Blackwood to make her exit?” Outside the door, my fingertips dug into my palms, I was so tense I didn’t even feel the pain. I was waiting for Caleb’s answer. But the private room remained silent for a long time, until someone couldn’t help but ask: “Thorne, you haven’t actually fallen for Aria Blackwood, have you?” “You’re not getting soft?” Caleb swirled his drink, the emotion in his eyes dark and unreadable. “She’s nothing but a tool I can discard anytime. Does she even deserve me to feel soft?” I felt like a heavy hammer had just struck my heart. I covered my ears, turned, and fled, returning home to bury my face in my pillow and sob. When Caleb came back, he didn’t ask why I was crying. He just forcibly pulled me up, saying he had to punish me severely for leaving without a word. I drove, following Caleb to the airport. I watched him escort a girl in a white dress into a car, the tenderness in his eyes enough to burn anyone who saw it. Finally, he put his arm around her waist and walked into a hotel. Watching his retreating back, my thoughts drifted back to the past. When I first met Caleb, he was a student three years my junior. I was the problem student my professor was desperate to get rid of, while he was the star student my professor adored. My professor introduced us. My first impression of him was simply that he was handsome. But beyond that, I had no other thoughts. Our paths crossed more often because our professor took a hands-off approach. After I graduated, our contact lessened. Until one time, I was heavily drunk, and I felt like I’d been drugged. My head was spinning fiercely. In a panic, I ran into the nearest hotel and unexpectedly bumped into Caleb. That night, as I was about to pass out, that innocent-looking young man became my antidote. The next morning, I woke up and looked at him sleeping, my cheeks burning crimson. It wasn’t shyness; it was guilt. I wanted to pretend nothing had happened and sneak away. But Caleb opened his eyes. “Hey, Professor, you slept with me and now you want to run? That’s irresponsible, isn’t it?” After that, I avoided him. But he, as if he’d discovered a new fascination, pursued me relentlessly. Finally, on a rainy night, he cornered me, his eyes serious: “Aria Blackwood, let’s give us a try?” I hesitated for a long time, but eventually couldn’t resist his wronged yet expectant gaze, and I nodded. We started dating, the kind everyone gossiped about. In our first year, his friends teased, “You two are so in love, when are you getting married?” Caleb replied indifferently, “No rush.” The second year, someone asked again, and he still said, “No rush.” The third year, when asked again, he remained silent. I didn’t care; I could wait. I waited and waited, until I uncovered this truth. Caleb had never intended for us to have a future. The person he truly loved wasn’t me. From beginning to end, I was just a practice dummy. My thoughts dispersed, I’d been waiting outside the hotel for two hours. My hands trembled as I dialed Caleb’s number, wanting to confront him, wanting an answer, but the call never connected. After a long time. I received an unfamiliar text message. [Caleb is too tired, he’s already asleep. Stop calling him.] The sender seemed to fear I wouldn’t believe them, so they also sent a picture of Caleb sleeping. I suddenly laughed out loud, my laughter sounding particularly harsh in the confined car. As I laughed, tears silently streamed down my face. I thought I was loved, and I’d been secretly happy for a long time. But it was all fake. In this vast world, love had only gifted me with hollow joy. From now on, I wouldn’t love anymore. I drove back to the Blackwood family home. Mr. Blackwood rushed to greet me, a wide, uncontrollable smile on his face. “Aria, did you really agree to marry Julian Hayes?” I glanced at Selena Reed, my father’s mistress, sitting on the sofa. I hated that homewrecker who had destroyed my parents’ relationship. But Selena just smiled at me, greed flickering in her eyes. “I told you, I have conditions.” “If you don’t agree, I won’t marry him.” After I spoke, Mr. Blackwood and Selena exchanged a look. Then he eagerly asked, “What conditions? Tell me!” I spoke each word clearly: “I want to sever all ties with the Blackwood family.” Mr. Blackwood’s pupils constricted. “And, I want half a billion dollars as my settlement.” The living room fell into a dead silence. The color drained from Mr. Blackwood’s face. He looked at me in disbelief: “You… what did you say?” “Are you insane?! Aria Blackwood! I’m your biological father!” “Do you think by cutting ties, you’re no longer my daughter?!” I scoffed. “Father?” “Have you ever fulfilled a father’s responsibilities?!” Mr. Blackwood choked. I swept a cold gaze over him: “When you, for the sake of this mistress, forced my mother to cut her wrists and die right in front of me, did you ever think you were my father?” “When you’re forcing me to marry that disabled man from the Hayes family, did you ever think you were my father?!” “What, now that you know my marriage to the Hayes family will bring you immense profit, you suddenly decide to act like a father?” “Don’t you think it’s a little too late?!” “Or, aren’t you afraid I might offend the Hayes family, incur their wrath, and drag you down with me?” I finished, crossing my arms, looking at him with scorn. Mr. Blackwood trembled with rage: “Fine! Sever ties, then! Fine!” “But that half a billion? You can forget about it!” “Alright, then I won’t get married.” I spread my hands, utterly unconcerned. Mr. Blackwood’s expression froze. He finally gritted his teeth and said: “I’ll give it to you!” “But the Hayes family said you have to marry him in two weeks!” I gave a casual nod and started heading upstairs. Selena seized the opportunity and suddenly spoke: “Darling, since Aria is getting married, can my niece move in?” “You know my niece; she lost her parents when she was little, and I’m her only family left.” “She just came back from overseas today and didn’t want to bother me, so she’s staying in a hotel.” Mr. Blackwood stared at my retreating back, raising his voice a few notches: “Is that so?” “Since Aria Blackwood no longer acknowledges me as her father, then let her move out tomorrow, and let your niece move in.” “That way your niece can keep you company.” I paused, my heart aching almost to the point of suffocation. “Perfect. Only a scumbag like you could abandon your own daughter to raise someone else’s child.” I continued upstairs, but Selena hypocritically grabbed my arm, feigning concern: “Aria, how can you talk to your father like that?” “We’re family, isn’t there anything we can’t overcome? If you don’t have the Blackwood family behind you…” I sharply yanked my hand away, looking at her coldly. “What? Do you think just because I’m getting married, you can finally marry this scumbag?” “Let me tell you, don’t dream about it.” “You’ll never escape the title of mistress your entire life!” “You’ll die as nothing more than Mr. Blackwood’s kept woman, never his legitimate wife!” Selena’s face instantly went ashen, and she stumbled back a few steps. She instinctively retorted, “Impossible…” I swept a dismissive glance over her. “Oh really? I’ll be watching.” I turned and walked away, each step feeling like it took all my strength. Only after I slammed the door shut did all my energy drain, my legs giving out as I slid onto the cold floor, burying my face in my knees, letting silent tears soak my arms. The next day, around noon. A cacophony of noise erupted outside my room. “What the hell is going on?” Annoyed, I threw open the door. “What are you doing, all of you! Can’t you keep it down?!” “You must be Aria, right?” “I’m so sorry, Aria, I’ll tell them to be quieter.” Daisy Miller blinked her eyes, feigning innocence, and spoke softly. I froze, my entire body stiffening, unable to move. I hadn’t expected that Selena’s niece, mentioned last night, would turn out to be Caleb Thorne’s beloved first love. This coincidence was truly laughable. “Nice to meet you, Aria. I’m Daisy Miller.” Daisy extended her hand, a sweet smile on her face. I glanced at her hand, scoffed, and turned to slam the door shut. “Aria Blackwood! Have you lost all your manners?!” Mr. Blackwood twisted the doorknob, found the door locked, and angrily pounded on the panel. “Get out! You said you’re cutting ties with me, so what are you still doing clinging on here?!” My nails dug deeply into my palms. I turned, grabbed my jacket from the sofa, pulled out my bank card from a drawer, and haphazardly stuffed them into my suitcase. Daisy’s soft, sweet voice suddenly squeezed through the door crack: “Uncle, is Aria angry?” Mr. Blackwood’s voice immediately softened: “Don’t mind her. I spoiled her growing up; she has no manners, unlike you, who’s so sensible.” “I… moving in so suddenly, it’s only natural for Aria to be angry… It’s just… I’m afraid she’ll resent me forever.” Daisy’s voice carried a hint of grievance. “She wouldn’t dare!” Mr. Blackwood’s voice suddenly rose, then quickly lowered. “Don’t worry, she’s getting married and moving to Northmont City soon. This house will be rid of her.” The suitcase zipper clicked shut. I dragged my luggage towards the door. “Move. Don’t block my way.” My voice was as cold as ice. Daisy seemed startled, instinctively stepping back a few paces, giving me enough room to leave. “Ungrateful daughter!” “Where do you think you’re going?!” “Don’t forget what you promised!” Mr. Blackwood roared. “The moment the money’s in my account, I’ll book my flight to Northmont City,” I replied without looking back. As I passed Daisy, I gave her a fleeting glance, catching a flicker of suppressed triumph in her eyes. Just as I suspected, she and her aunt were two of a kind. Caleb Thorne must be blind to cherish someone like her. News of me being kicked out of the Blackwood home quickly spread. Meanwhile, I was sitting in the most luxurious presidential suite in South City, pouring myself glass after glass of red wine. When I was ten, Mr. Blackwood had an affair, and my mother discovered it. My mother, who loved him deeply, was hysterical, sobbing until she almost fainted. But Mr. Blackwood showed no remorse, openly bringing Selena Reed in and out of the Blackwood mansion. For three whole years, they flaunted their affection shamelessly in front of my mother, deliberately provoking her. Finally, my mother, unable to bear it any longer, took her own life in front of thirteen-year-old me. From that day on, I hated Mr. Blackwood, and I hated Selena Reed. I even almost tried to kill my own father. But I was caught. I was forced to move out of the Blackwood home, attending school alone, eating alone, growing up alone. It wasn’t until I met Caleb Thorne that my loneliness ended. Though it was only for a short year, it left an indelible mark on my heart. I never dared to hope for Caleb, but he had once given me hope. It was only for a brief year, but it was enough to stir a ripple in my heart. I had never harbored wild fantasies about Caleb Thorne, but he had given me hope. The doorbell rang abruptly. I sat on the sofa, my eyes vacant. Hearing the sound, I paused slightly, struggled to my feet, my steps unsteady, and went to open the door. Standing outside was Caleb Thorne. A trace of imperceptible anxiety flickered in his brows, his gaze lingering on my slightly disheveled clothes and swollen eyes for a moment. “Caleb Thorne, you’re here.” I spoke softly, my voice hoarse from crying. Caleb didn’t immediately enter, instead taking in my state, his eyes complex. “Argued with your father again?” His voice was deep. “Got kicked out? What, still didn’t think to come to me?” His words made my nose sting, and my eyes instantly welled up. In the past, whenever I argued with Mr. Blackwood, Caleb would always be the first to find me, take me away from that suffocating environment, and bring me to his place. He would always say, “Aria, why are you trying to tough it out alone again? Why didn’t you come to me?” Back then, I always thought Caleb must be madly in love with me. Although he never said “I love you,” he was always silently by my side, doing many things only someone who loved me would do. Now that I think about it— Love that couldn’t be spoken, was it truly love? He clearly harbored feelings for Daisy Miller, and he was never short of other women. What did that make me? My eyes red, my pent-up emotions exploded. I raised my hand and slapped Caleb Thorne, hard and fast. Caleb clearly hadn’t expected me to act out like that. The crisp sound echoed as my hand connected with his cheek. He frowned, a flash of hurt and anger quickly crossing his face, but he suppressed it the next second. He didn’t hit back, nor did he speak. Instead, he simply wrapped one arm around my waist, lifting me into his arms. I struggled in shock, yelling, “Let me go! Get away from me, you damn scumbag!” Caleb carried me, letting me kick and hit him, and walked straight to the hotel’s large bed. The next day. I opened my eyes with a groan of discomfort. Suddenly, Caleb’s voice, thick with sleep but brooking no argument, resonated in my ears: “Sweetheart, come home with me.” I curled my hands, my eyes lowered, my voice still a little hoarse: “No need.” “Your place… isn’t my home.” “Besides, I’m only staying at this hotel for two weeks.” *In two weeks, I’ll be gone.* I left those words unsaid. Caleb’s brows instantly furrowed, a surge of inexplicable anger rising within him, as if I’d not only refused his kindness but something more. He suppressed the irritation and said lazily: “Suit yourself.” “I was only offering to take you in temporarily because you’re homeless now, out of pity.” Pity me? His words cut like a knife, and my heart gave a sharp pang. An inexplicable cold war began between us. It wasn’t until three days later that Caleb reached out to me, trying to mend things. “Sweetheart…” He had just started speaking when his phone rang with a special notification sound. Caleb immediately pulled out his phone to check it. I caught a glimpse of the contact name: Daisy. [Caleb, it’s been a while. Let’s have dinner together.] After reading the message, he turned and left without a word. As if he remembered something, he left me with a phrase: “Sweetheart, I have some things to take care of. I’ll come find you later.” I watched his eager back disappear, and let out a self-deprecating laugh. Late at night. I drifted off to sleep, but my hands were clutched to my stomach. My stomach was wracked with intense, cramping pain. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead, and my consciousness began to fade. I felt as though I was seeing flashbacks of our time together. Caleb would buy me priceless necklaces and personally put them on me, promising to buy me diamonds for a lifetime. Caleb would light fireworks across the city for three days and nights to celebrate my birthday, smiling as he said he would give me all he had, without reservation. Caleb would make a wish during a rare meteor shower, saying he would stay with me until the end of time, never letting go… His vows still echoed in my ears, but those words were just empty promises he used to appease me. He had never intended for us to grow old together. When Caleb arrived, he saw my pale face. “What’s wrong with you? You look awful!” He rushed forward, helping me up, a hint of panic in his voice. I weakly said, “My stomach… it hurts so much.” “Did you skip meals again?” He frowned, his voice carrying a hint of reproach. I looked at him, the stomach pain making it almost impossible to speak. “Never mind, I’ll take you to the hospital.” With that, Caleb picked me up on his back and started walking out. Halfway there, his phone rang again. Caleb saw it was Daisy calling, and answered without thinking. Immediately, sobs came from the other end. “Caleb, my… my aunt fainted… Uncle isn’t home… I don’t know what to do, can you please come help me?” Daisy’s voice clearly reached my ears. Caleb hung up, his eyes flickering with apology: “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry… something came up with the company… I have to go deal with it right away.” “Can you take a taxi to the hospital? I’ll come find you as soon as I’m done, okay?” “I’ll call a cab for you, it’ll be here right away.” Rain mixed with cold sweat, dripping from my forehead. I watched his car disappear into the rainy night, forcing a bitter smile. The icy rain instantly soaked my clothes, chilling my heart. I waited a long time, but the cab Caleb said he’d called never arrived. I struggled to pull out my phone to call one myself, but my hands were shaking too much to operate it. The intense stomach pain made it almost impossible to breathe; I could only gasp for air. Before I completely lost consciousness, I vaguely mumbled: “It’s a good thing I decided not to love you anymore, Caleb Thorne…” When I regained consciousness, I found myself in a hospital. A nurse informed me that a kind passerby had found me collapsed on the street and brought me in. Just then, Daisy’s voice, thick with suppressed sobs, came from outside the door: “It’s all my fault, I panicked in a crisis and instinctively called for your help, and as a result… Aria… she fainted outside…” “Caleb, how could you come help me first?” “Aria will be so angry when she finds out…” “She already doesn’t approve of me living at the Blackwood family home, now this…” Caleb’s warm fingers gently wiped away her tears. “It’s not your fault.” “Don’t be scared. If she bullies you, I’ll protect you.” His voice was exceptionally gentle, a warmth I had never felt from him. “If I had another chance, I’d still help you.” He murmured, “Who told her she couldn’t even take care of herself? Consider this a punishment.” I clutched my heart on the hospital bed. Just a little longer, and I’d be able to let go completely. One day, I wouldn’t love Caleb Thorne anymore. “You’ve been running around so much, you must be tired.” “Go back and rest.” Caleb softly coaxed her. After a long while, Daisy left with a hint of awkwardness. Once the hospital room door closed again, Caleb finally noticed that I was awake on the bed, staring intently at him. There was no trace of guilt on his face, and he asked as usual, “You’re awake? Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?” My face was pale, and I shook my head slightly. In the past, learning the truth of him abandoning me would have sent me into a rage, throwing things and chasing him out. But now, I was exceptionally calm, neither crying nor making a scene. Caleb frowned slightly, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “Are you angry?” He asked tentatively. I replied expressionlessly: “No.” As if the matter was truly over. I quietly recovered in the hospital, no longer trying to be close to him as before. Caleb, meanwhile, came to see me every day after work. On the day of my discharge, Mr. Blackwood suddenly called. “The money’s transferred to you, and I’ve booked your flight.” His voice was filled with suppressed anger. “Don’t forget what you promised!” A cold smile played on my lips: “Understood.” “Don’t be too upset.” I added lightly, “When I marry, the Hayes family’s betrothal gift is a staggering billion dollars. You’re not losing out.” Mr. Blackwood remained silent, simply hanging up the phone in a huff. When Caleb came to pick me up, he said to me, unprompted: “Aria, I know you’re still angry.” “I’ll take you somewhere fun; maybe that’ll cheer you up?” I frowned, just about to refuse, when he pulled me into the car. The club lights were dim and hazy. Entering suddenly, I felt a little disoriented. “Aria, you’re here!” “Caleb said there was an exciting show, so he invited me along.” Daisy suddenly appeared in front of me, affectionately linking her arm in mine. I paused, a mocking smile twisting my lips. *How ridiculous.* With Daisy here, how could he genuinely try to make *me* happy? But my heart, it seemed, didn’t ache as much as it used to. “Aria…” Daisy’s affected voice interrupted my thoughts. I frowned slightly, then forcefully shook off her hand. “Who’s your sister? Don’t try to claim kinship!” Daisy looked at Caleb with a wronged expression, biting her lip as she explained, “My aunt is your father’s wife, so naturally, you’re my older sister.” I let out a cold laugh: “Your aunt is Mr. Blackwood’s mistress, or rather, his homewrecker. But she certainly isn’t his wife!” “A mistress’s niece, where do you get off calling me your sister?” “It’s laughable!” Caleb saw Daisy’s pitiful expression and couldn’t help but snap: “Enough! Aria Blackwood!” “It’s just a title. Why be so petty?” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, said nothing, and walked straight to a seat. The two of them sat down beside me. Suddenly, a scream erupted from the stage. Staff pushed out an iron cage, where two adult Tibetan Mastiffs paced restlessly inside. “The special show is about to begin!” the excited host yelled. “Little Chili versus Big Dragon! Who do you think will win?” I frowned deeply. Such bloody fighting and betting shows were common at this club, but I always detested them. Just as I was about to leave, Daisy grabbed me: “Don’t you like watching, Aria?” “I absolutely love it.” I was about to retort when something suddenly went wrong. The latch on the iron cage holding the two Tibetan Mastiffs suddenly came loose. The two mastiffs crashed through the cage door and immediately lunged at the nearest person. The host was the first victim. The scene descended into chaos. I watched Caleb directly bypass me, grab Daisy’s hand, and shield her entirely in his embrace as he headed for the emergency exit. Meanwhile, I stood closest to one of the mastiffs, able to clearly see the drool dripping from its fangs. My eyes filled with terror, and I unconsciously cried out, “Caleb… save me…” Caleb, hearing my plea, merely shot a cold glance over his shoulder, then unhesitatingly protected Daisy and quickly left. The next second, the two mastiffs pounced on me, who was frozen in place. “Ah—!” Excruciating pain tore through me instantly. In a daze, I felt as though I was about to be devoured by the two beasts. “Bang! Bang!” Two gunshots pierced the deadly silence, and the two mastiffs collapsed to the ground. When I woke again, the pungent smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils, and I was back in a hospital bed. The first person I saw was Daisy Miller. “Aria, you’re finally awake.” Daisy feigned concern. “You scared me to death.” I scoffed, propped myself up, my gaze like a knife: “Daisy Miller, Caleb’s not here. Can you really keep up this act? It’s sickening.” Daisy’s lips twitched, and she instantly dropped her pretense: “Aria Blackwood, what are you so proud of?” “Caleb Thorne doesn’t care about you, and you can’t go back to the Blackwood family home. Who are you trying to impress?” “It must hurt, watching him protect me first, right?” She leaned closer, her voice laced with glee: “Too bad those beasts didn’t finish you off.” My eyes suddenly turned cold and sharp as I stared directly at her: “You’re the one who ordered those two mastiffs to be released, aren’t you?” Daisy met my gaze without flinching, a smile playing on her lips: “I did. What are you going to do about it?” “I want you dead. What can you do to stop me?” I slowly raised my eyelids and let out a scoff: “Daisy Miller, you dare to mess with me without checking my background?” “I’m the kind of person who would kill my own father.” Before I finished speaking, I moved suddenly, grabbing Daisy’s head and slamming it against the wall behind her. “Ah—!” Daisy let out a bloodcurdling scream. When Caleb Thorne returned to the hospital room, he saw Daisy lying on the ground, barely conscious. Seeing the situation, he immediately slapped me across the face, his expression livid: “Aria Blackwood! Are you crazy?!” “Just because I saved her first, you tried to kill her?” My eyes were bloodshot, and I forced down the metallic taste in my mouth, hissing, “She tried to kill me with those mastiffs!” “Even so, you can’t kill her!” Caleb roared. His words were like a poisoned knife, piercing my heart. I suddenly let out a desolate laugh. “Since I’ve already done it, Mr. Thorne, how do you plan to deal with me?” “A leg.” Caleb’s voice was as cold as ice. “Then I won’t pursue this matter any further.” I abruptly looked up, my eyes filled with disbelief. For Daisy Miller, he wanted to break my leg? I struggled desperately. But Caleb had already motioned for his bodyguards to step forward and restrain me tightly. “Sweetheart, this is what you owe Daisy.” Caleb’s voice was devoid of warmth. He finished, then picked up Daisy, his eyes filled with anxiety. I stared at his disappearing back, my eyes filled with despair. The rubber baton in the bodyguard’s hand suddenly fell, striking my knee heavily. Excruciating pain instantly spread through my entire body. My vision went black, and I almost fainted. I curled up on the ground, large tears mixing with cold sweat as they rolled down my face. Caleb Thorne was truly ruthless. When I woke again, my leg was in a cast. But I still felt an immense amount of pain. “Have you learned your lesson this time?” Caleb stood by the bed, his voice devoid of any emotion. I kept my lips tightly sealed, ignoring him completely. Caleb frowned deeply, and his lips moved as if to speak. But a nurse suddenly pushed the door open and announced, “Mr. Thorne, Ms. Miller is awake.” He glanced at me. “Wait for me to come back.” With that, he left without looking back. Watching his hurried retreating figure, I softly said: “Caleb Thorne, I won’t wait anymore.” Two hours later. Pushed in a wheelchair by a bodyguard, I arrived at the airport. After sending Caleb Thorne a breakup text, I tossed my phone into a trash can the moment the screen went dark. Then, resolutely, I boarded the flight to Northmont City.

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My grandma was 50 when she found out she was the true heiress of a powerful family. My whole family buzzed with excitement, already plotting how to cash in on Grandma’s newfound status. Grandpa dreamed of using the money to find a younger woman to dote on him. Uncle Shane calculated how to land a cushy executive position where he could line his pockets. Even my cousin, Kevin, just seven years old, was demanding a sprawling mansion in the most exclusive part of the city. Grandma, as always, agreed to everything. She smiled, looking at me, “Lily, what do *you* want?” But a cold dread washed over me. Because I saw it clearly. A flicker of murderous intent in Grandma’s eyes. When we found out Grandma was Eleanor Albright, the long-lost daughter of the Albright Group’s founder, our entire family went wild. Grandpa immediately started scheming: “Audrey’s back with the rich folks, and as her husband, I’m certainly coming along. I don’t need much over there, just a dedicated driver and a few nannies to cater to my every whim. No problem, right?” “Dad, that’s nothing!” Uncle Shane chuckled, puffing out his chest with ambitious pride. “Mom is the Albright Group CEO’s own daughter! Me, as her only son, I should at least be made a Vice President, shouldn’t I? And Kevin, he *has* to go to the best private school!” Kevin is my cousin, seven years old this year, and the only male heir in our generation. Right now, he was tugging on Grandma’s sleeve, yelling at the top of his lungs: “Old hag, a mansion! Buy me a mansion in the city center!” No one objected to this address. Because that’s exactly how they’d called Grandma for years. “Alright, whatever you want.” Grandma smiled, agreeing to every request. Everyone was ecstatic, imagining their lives were about to take off, like a sudden lottery win for the whole family. Only I stood silently in the corner, saying nothing. “Lily, is there anything you want?” Grandma asked me directly. I shook my head, only asking: “Grandma, two months ago, how did you survive?” The moment I spoke, my family’s faces instantly changed.

Two months ago, Grandma fell ill. But no one in the family paid any attention. Just like before, when Grandma was sick, they’d accuse her of faking illnesses to get out of chores. “She’s just an old woman, so what if she’s sick?” “She can tough it out herself, why waste money on a doctor?” There was always farm work to be done, the pigs were squealing from hunger, and a large family was still waiting to be fed. Grandma had no choice but to endure, and keep busy. Only I would help Grandma shoulder some of the burden. I often snuck to the back woods to gather wild herbs, which Grandma would chew and swallow. It eased the pain. But it was a temporary fix, never a real cure. Until two months ago— Kevin fell from a tree and was injured, needing a blood transfusion. Uncle Shane and Aunt Brenda were too stingy to buy blood from the blood bank, so they directly pushed Grandma forward. “Take hers, she’s tough as nails! She can handle it!” Grandma was already very weak then. But she was still pushed out like livestock. Blood was slowly drawn from her frail, withered arms. And it also drained Grandma’s last bit of strength. Grandma suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood. She collapsed like a helpless reed, swaying before it finally collapsed. “Worthless old woman!” “We were counting on you to take care of Kevin, and now you’re just being lazy again!” Even at this point, Uncle Shane and Aunt Brenda still refused to spend a single dime on Grandma’s medical care. They crowded around Kevin, showering him with concern. They left Grandma on the cold ground, left to her own devices. Ten days later, when Uncle Shane and Aunt Brenda returned from the county clinic, I found Grandma gone. “Where’s Grandma?” I asked them. “Don’t know, probably dead.” Aunt Brenda said indifferently. “She was coughing all the time, I was worried she’d infect Kevin.” Grandpa, upon hearing this, did show a flicker of concern. “If the old woman’s dead, who’ll feed the pigs? Who’ll cook? Who’ll take care of me?” Everyone’s eyes turned to me. “Daisy can do it. We’ve raised this good-for-nothing burden for so long, it’s time she did more work.” They all called me “Daisy.” Only Grandma called me “Lily.” She said I was a child they wished for. But in truth, no one wished for me, except her. My mother didn’t wish for me. Because she gave birth to a girl, she was constantly mocked in the village. She died in childbirth trying for a second baby. My father didn’t wish for me. After Mom died, he quickly remarried, dumping me on Grandma like unwanted baggage. Grandpa didn’t wish for me. He called me a good-for-nothing burden, wishing he could have just thrown me into the back woods to perish in the wilderness, like the other baby girls Grandma had given birth to. Uncle Shane and Aunt Brenda wished for me even less. Especially after Aunt Brenda gave birth to Kevin, I, this “superfluous” girl, wasn’t even fit to tie Kevin’s shoelaces in their eyes. Only Grandma truly wished for me and treated me well. I ignored my family’s curses, running out with my worn-out shoes. Gasping for breath, I ran for half a day. Finally, late at night, I reached the county clinic. I asked them if they had seen my Grandma. “A few days ago, an old woman did collapse here,” A nurse said. “Her family refused to pay for treatment. After she woke up, she walked off towards the mountains.” My heart sank. Some old people in the village, when they knew their end was near, would go into the mountains to wait for death. Was Grandma doing the same? “When did you last see her?” My voice trembled uncontrollably. “Roughly… seven or eight days ago.” Seven or eight days. If Grandma had had the strength, she would have returned home long ago. It was hard to imagine how she, penniless and severely ill, could have survived. I was filled with despair, believing I’d never see Grandma again. But unexpectedly, two months passed. Grandma not only returned. But also became Eleanor Albright, the true heiress of the Albright Group.

“Silly child, your Grandma has a strong will to live.” Facing my tearful questions, Grandma simply stroked my head calmly. She slowly explained— That day, she truly believed she wouldn’t make it, so she wanted to go into the mountains, to find a quiet place to lie down. But she hadn’t walked far before she was rescued. “The people who rescued me were sent by the Albright family. They said I left a record when my blood was drawn at the county clinic – something called Rh-negative blood, which is very rare. My biological parents’ genealogical agency had been searching for women with this blood type for years.” Subsequently, an emergency DNA comparison confirmed that Grandma was indeed the Albright Group CEO’s biological daughter, lost for fifty years. This experience left everyone gasping. Aunt Brenda’s eyes darted around, then she let out a sharp, fawning laugh, slapping her thigh in realization: “Oh my! So Mom being recognized by the wealthy family is all thanks to our Kevin, then! If it wasn’t for giving Kevin a blood transfusion, Mom would never have had the chance to leave a blood type record!” “Exactly!” Uncle Shane immediately puffed out his chest, as if he had performed a monumental service. “Mom was even hesitant about the blood draw! If we hadn’t been decisive and insisted on it, this staggering fortune would have been missed!” “That’s right, Audrey.” Grandpa knocked his pipe against the sole of his shoe, concluding self-righteously: “People shouldn’t forget their roots. Ultimately, our family was the reason you could return to a wealthy background, wasn’t it? You should really repay us well!” I couldn’t stand it anymore: “That’s nonsense! You never let Grandma see a doctor, otherwise, how could she have waited until she was 50 to be found? She was discovered the moment her blood was drawn, which means the Albright family had been looking for her all along! You’re the ones who held her back!” “You good-for-nothing brat, what do you know?!” Aunt Brenda immediately put her hands on her hips, spittle practically flying in my face. “Which woman in the village didn’t go through the same? Get a headache or fever and lie down like a lady? Who doesn’t just grab some wild herbs to deal with it? It’s still all thanks to Kevin! Otherwise, her?” She sneered, glancing dismissively at Grandma. “She could rot in some forgotten ditch and no one would even care!” I was shaking with anger. But Grandma gently raised a hand, stopping the argument. “Alright, alright, we’re family, let’s not fight.” She paused, her gaze slowly sweeping across their greedy faces. “The Albright family said that to thank you for taking care of me all these years, they specially booked a banquet at an exclusive restaurant in the city, and want our whole family to come.” The moment her words fell, the four pairs of eyes opposite her lit up instantly. “Go! Of course, we’ll go!” Uncle Shane rubbed his hands excitedly. “This is an invitation from the Albright Group!” Grandpa slapped his thigh: “Let’s go! Let the whole village see, our family is about to become rich and powerful!” Aunt Brenda was already planning what to wear. Even Kevin shook his head, clamoring to eat lobster. I looked at their ecstatic, greedy faces, and then at Grandma, calm as still water. Suddenly, I felt something was off. The Grandma who returned seemed different from before. Her eyes were no longer that numb, murky dead water. Instead, they were like a bottomless ancient well. Calm, yet holding a chilling, deep coldness.

That afternoon, the Albright family’s motorcade arrived on time. Three black Rolls-Royces lined up in front of our dilapidated village entrance. Half the village ran out to watch the spectacle. “Wow, this car must be worth tens of thousands!” “More than that! Look at the emblem, it’s easily over a million!” The chauffeur, impeccably dressed in a suit, respectfully opened the car door. Grandpa was the first to scramble in, flopping onto the leather seat, his hands running over the armrest: “This leather is softer than our cowhide!” He turned and shouted at the chauffeur: “Young man, how much is this car? Get me one too!” The chauffeur smiled politely: “Sir, this is a custom model, globally limited edition.” “Limited is good!” Grandpa laughed. “The more limited, the more prestigious! It matches my status!” Uncle Shane pulled Kevin into the second car and immediately pulled out his phone for a selfie: “Come on, Kevin, smile! This will be our standard ride from now on!” Kevin pressed his face against the window, showing off to the kids outside: “See? Luxury car pick-up! It’s all mine!” Aunt Brenda rummaged through the car’s mini-fridge, gasping in surprise: “Champagne! Imported chocolates! Oh my god, one bottle of this wine is enough for our family’s entire year’s expenses!” She unceremoniously opened a bottle and gulped down a few mouthfuls. “Drink slowly,” Uncle Shane pretended to caution her, but then reached out and grabbed a handful of chocolates, stuffing them into his pocket. Grandma and I sat in the third car. The car was quiet. Grandma closed her eyes, resting, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. “Grandma,” I whispered, “Are you really… taking them back to the city?” She opened her eyes, her gaze calmly falling on my face. “Lily,” she said, “Have you ever seen a monkey show?” I shook my head. “The monkeys jump and prance on stage, and the more delighted and ridiculous they are, the happier the audience becomes.” She paused, the light and shadows from outside the window flickering across her face. “They are performing a show now. We just need to watch carefully.”

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After graduation, my niece’s diary, titled “The Agony of Living Under Someone Else’s Roof,” went viral. She moved in with us right before her senior year. To make her feel comfortable, I’d occasionally ask her to help with some light chores. When graduation came, both she and my daughter got into Harvard University. News stations were clamoring to report on our story, asking how I managed to raise two straight-A students. Just as I was cheerfully sharing my parenting tips, my niece pulled out a diary. Its content: The Agony of Living Under Someone Else’s Roof. My niece became an internet sensation, while I was cyberbullied and doxxed by furious netizens. “Auntie, my parents sent you money for my expenses every month. So why did I have to live like a mouse in your house, tiptoeing around? You deserve everything that’s coming to you.” Ultimately, thanks to my niece’s “accidental” location reveal, “righteous” netizens pushed me into a river, and I drowned. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the moment my husband’s brother dropped his daughter off at our house. Heh, the pain of being a dependent, huh? This time, you’ll get to experience what *real* dependency feels like.

“Eleanor, I really appreciate your help. Skylar’s the same age as your Mia, and taking care of one kid is the same as taking care of two, right? I’ll transfer the living expenses to your account every month, so please bear with us.” Looking at the familiar SnapChat message from my husband’s brother, David, and the $100 deposit notification in my banking app, I finally confirmed I’d been reborn. I couldn’t help but chuckle at that $100. They really had it all figured out. Because my daughter was in her senior year, and I’m a freelance writer with a flexible schedule, I’d rented an apartment near the school so Mia could commute. David and his wife, Brenda, found out and used the excuse of going out of state for work to send Skylar to live with me. Then they said they’d give me $100 a month for her living expenses. I knew that $100 wasn’t even enough for her food. Not to mention all the extra expenses a teenage girl has. But she was family, a child I’d watched grow up since she was tiny. Could I really have refused? And just like that, Skylar moved in. Fearing the young girl would overthink things, I told her that her parents sent me money for her living expenses every month—though I didn’t tell her how much—and encouraged her to treat this place like her own home. And anything my daughter had, I’d buy one for her too. From small things like a single pen or school supply, to larger expenses like pocket money and tutoring classes. I never once treated her poorly just because she wasn’t my biological daughter. At first, when she volunteered to do chores, I’d even refuse. But later, I worried she’d feel useless and hurt her pride, so I agreed to let her do some light, quick tasks. Ultimately, both girls got into Harvard, and I was incredibly proud. I felt all the effort I’d put into caring for them both had paid off. But I never imagined it was all one-sided, my own wishful thinking. And that I’d raised an ungrateful viper. The memory of being cyberbullied and dying a terrible death in my previous life flashed through my mind. This time, I wouldn’t go soft on her again.

“Auntie, what did my dad tell you?” Skylar stretched her neck, craning closer to me. She was clearly trying to read my SnapChat conversation with her dad. In my last life, to keep her from finding out her heartless parents had dumped her on me with only $100, I quickly closed my phone, hiding the message. But she misinterpreted it, thinking I didn’t want her to know how much money her parents had given me. She believed I intended to pocket the money for Mia and myself. It wasn’t until after graduation, when our families completely fell apart, that I learned from Mia that Skylar often called her parents, crying about how terrible her life was here. And her parents would get furious on the other end, cursing me out and saying how I was supposedly treating their daughter so harshly despite receiving living expenses—but they never told Skylar that the “living expenses” were only $100. After yelling at me, they’d tell Skylar that this was just how it was when you lived at someone else’s house, and to “just bear with it until graduation.” Recalling all that, this time I simply handed her my phone, letting her see exactly what kind of parents she had. “Here, your parents said you could live at my house, but they only gave $100, which isn’t even enough for your rent.” Yes, $100 wasn’t even enough for *her* rent. Because it was an apartment in a highly-rated school district, rent was roughly three thousand dollars a month. If you divided it by person, it should be at least a thousand dollars a month. Yet, she lived here for three years for free and never appreciated it, showing no gratitude in the end. Then, I sighed dramatically. “This school district rent is so expensive, it’s about three thousand a month. I have no idea what your parents were thinking; $100 isn’t even enough for your food.” She was still a young girl, and her face instantly flushed red. “Auntie, I don’t eat much.” Mia, behind me, tugged quietly at my sleeve, signaling that maybe I was being too harsh. I patted Mia’s hand, then turned back to Skylar. “Anyway, I’m still your aunt. So, I won’t ask you for rent. Every month, you’ll eat with us; whatever we eat, you eat. But don’t expect anything extra.” “I understand, Auntie.” Seeing Skylar lower her head, looking pitiful, I almost felt soft again, to be honest. But wasn’t it exactly this innocent act that fooled me in my last life? Indeed, academic achievement doesn’t equal good character. Even if she got into the best university, it wouldn’t change the rotten core inside her.

After school started, It wasn’t long before the first act of me being the biggest fool in my last life came around. Both in my last life and this one, I still couldn’t understand. How could parents not even pay their child’s tuition? Were they really just expecting others to raise their kid? In my last life, I paid for Mia’s tuition on my phone. I had no idea Skylar’s tuition hadn’t been paid. Not until Skylar’s homeroom teacher called and asked me to come to school. That’s when I found out. Yes, David and Brenda had directly put *my* information in the child’s guardian contact section. When I arrived at school, I saw Skylar standing in the office, head down. It was clearly her parents’ fault, but she looked as if she’d committed some terrible mistake, and it broke my heart. I quickly paid her tuition. Then I told her to go back to class and study hard. “Auntie, why didn’t Mia’s homeroom teacher call you?” Looking at Skylar’s pitiful expression, How could I say: “I already paid my daughter’s tuition, who knew your parents simply don’t care about you?” Fearing she might resent her parents later, I suppressed my anger towards David and Brenda and patiently explained: “This is all Auntie’s fault. I paid Mia’s tuition a long time ago. Your parents just transferred your tuition to me yesterday, and I was so busy with you two starting school that I completely forgot!” Yet, later, in her public diary, she wrote this: “My parents clearly transferred my tuition and living expenses to Auntie a long time ago, but Auntie refused to pay my tuition until I was called out by the teacher in front of the whole class. Only then did she reluctantly pay the tuition that should have been settled before school even started. This small incident, however, became an unforgettable scar for me throughout my senior year.” After the second time I hung up on Skylar’s homeroom teacher, My phone once again showed a missed call notification. I finally picked it up, exasperated. “Hello, is this Skylar’s guardian?” “What’s wrong?” “It’s like this, we need you to come to school for a moment.” “I understand.” Although it was still unavoidable to go to their school, this time I wasn’t so flustered. I carefully tidied myself up. Then I went to a local bakery and bought a strawberry cake Mia liked, and ordered her a bubble tea. High school is stressful, and eating some favorite desserts can relieve it. But in the last life, because I had to raise two children, and when buying anything, I always had to buy two copies. Plus various tutoring fees, rent, etc., Mark and I were also under considerable financial pressure. So I rarely bought these non-essential treats for the kids. But this time I wouldn’t treat Skylar equally. So there was no need to save this little snack.

After leisurely taking care of all that, I arrived at Ms. Davison’s office about an hour and a half later. As soon as I stepped into the office, Skylar and the teacher’s eyes both turned to me. I casually placed the items I was holding on a nearby shelf before walking over. “Sorry, Ms. Davison, I’m a little late. Is there something wrong?” Perhaps because I was so slow, Ms. Davison seemed a bit impatient, and even though she maintained a polite facade, her tone was quite cold. “It’s like this, Skylar’s guardian. Classes officially started today, but we haven’t received the child’s tuition yet. Did you perhaps get too busy with work and forget to pay it?” “Oh?” I covered my mouth with both hands, feigning great surprise. My gasp made the other teachers in the office turn their heads to look at us. “Skylar hasn’t paid tuition?” “That’s right, Skylar’s guardian. This isn’t good for the school or for the child.” “Oh, Ms. Davison, I’m really not too clear about this. Her parents just dropped her off at my doorstep and then took off for out of state. They only gave me $100 for her living expenses; they didn’t transfer any other money, so I had no idea about this tuition. By the way, Ms. Davison, I’m not Skylar’s guardian, I’m just her aunt. My daughter is actually in your first-period class.” This school assigned classes based on entrance exam scores. My daughter, Mia, who I’d raised since she was little, ranked among the top ten in the entire city on her entrance exams, so she naturally got into the top class. Her grades had always been consistently excellent, never dropping out of the top tier, even by her senior year. Skylar, while not terrible, was in the fifth class, certainly not considered top-tier. In my last life, to improve her grades, watching her slowly climb from the fifth class to the first, I put in so much effort. I even often asked Mia to sacrifice her own study time to explain problems to Skylar. When Ms. Davison heard I was just a relative, not the parent, and that my own child was in their top class, her tone immediately softened considerably. “Is that so? I saw your contact information filled out in the child’s guardian section, so I naturally called you.” “Alright, Ms. Davison, I’ll call her parents right now.” I had just taken out my phone. Skylar suddenly tugged at my sleeve. “Auntie, did my parents not transfer my tuition to you?” “What nonsense are you talking about, child? Didn’t you see my SnapChat conversation with your dad yesterday? He only transferred $100, which isn’t even enough for food. How could it possibly cover tuition?” Perhaps the gazes of the surrounding teachers and the occasional student walking in were too intense. My niece’s face turned completely red. “How about you pay it for me first, Auntie? I’ll have my parents pay you back when I get home.” “Skylar, what are you saying? Tuition for the year is twelve thousand dollars! I just paid Mia’s tuition, plus rent and utilities. Rent alone is thirty-six thousand a year! I’m completely broke right now; all I have left is the $100 your parents transferred yesterday. How about I just give this $100 to Ms. Davison?” Ms. Davison saw what was happening. She pushed up her glasses and said to me, “How about you give her parents a call?” “Alright, Ms. Davison, I was just about to.” With that, I gently pulled Skylar’s hand away from mine, called David, and put him on speakerphone. “Hello, Eleanor.” “David, did you and Brenda get too busy and forget to pay Skylar’s tuition?” “Huh? Eleanor, isn’t Skylar living with you now?” Hearing that, I really wanted to peel off his face and see how thick his skin was. “Yes, she is! You two just drop her off without a word, and then expect me to cover everything. I’m her aunt, so I won’t charge for rent and utilities, but $100 a month? What kind of food can a child eat on that? I won’t even mention all that, but how could you forget something as important as tuition? I’m in the teacher’s office right now; you can explain it to her yourself.” He clearly hadn’t expected me to directly confront him and even bring up the $100. Ms. Davison greeted him several times with “Hello, parent,” before he finally reacted. “Oh, oh, hello, Ms. Davison. Um, well, my wife and I are out of state right now. We’ve entrusted Skylar’s care to her aunt. So, maybe…” Hearing that, I interjected. “David, even though Skylar isn’t my biological child, she’s family, I watched her grow up. I’d love to pay her tuition, but I just paid Mia’s tuition, and with rent and utilities, I’ve already spent over fifty thousand dollars. I genuinely don’t have any money left. “If you two can’t come up with it, maybe you should try borrowing from other relatives?” Ms. Davison also spoke up sternly. “Parent, according to school regulations, if tuition isn’t paid, the child may need to go home for self-study until the tuition is settled before returning to school.” “Alright, alright, I’ll transfer the tuition to her aunt right away, okay? Ms. Davison, please let Skylar take the phone.” Skylar tremblingly took the phone from Ms. Davison’s hand and carefully called out, “Dad.” “You little brat, always spending my money! You’ve cost me so much since you were little! I’m telling you, you better get into a good university after graduation, or you won’t be worthy of me or your mom.” After cursing her out, he hung up. And as soon as I received the tuition transfer from David, I didn’t waste a single second, immediately transferring it to Ms. Davison.

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I was trying to book a male escort online, but somehow I accidentally texted a hitman. Me: “How much per session?” Hitman: “How many people.” Whoa, group rates? Awesome! I hesitated, a blush creeping up, and typed my name. “O-only one person. Any chance of a discount?” It was the tenth day since the breakup, and my hormones were acting up again, just like every month, making me restless. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. So, in the middle of the night, I turned to the internet, looking for something to help me unwind. Clicking around, a powerfully striking photo suddenly scrolled across my screen. In my view, the man wore a dark helmet and mask, with only a pair of broad, strong hands, gripping a weapon, visible. His knuckles were sharply defined, veins bulging. The oversized weapon looked small and effortless in those palms. I couldn’t help but imagine his long fingers pulling the trigger. What if his fingertips weren’t on a trigger, but on… I instinctively covered my tingling nose. I instantly clicked into his profile, desperate for more eye candy. But most of the account’s content was hidden, requiring a paid subscription to unlock direct messages. Underneath, a flood of anonymous five-star reviews. “Totally worth it.” “Excellent and professional service!” “Clean, on point, no regrets.” I thought for a second and understood — It had to be OnlyFans! I did a quick mental calculation of the price and hissed through my teeth. It wasn’t cheap. This male model was truly expensive. Normally, I’d just drool for a bit and move on. But I was still furious about my cheating ex and desperately needed some good stuff to soothe my soul. We independent women deserve to treat ourselves. Money comes and goes, but I’d never again, in the prime of my twenties, alone, miss out on a masked, buff ‘daddy’ fantasy. I immediately splurged on the most expensive tier. Sure enough, a private message arrived quickly. “What service do you require.” His tone was as steady and cold as he was. I could almost picture him, stoic, giving me a sharp, knife-like glance. I touched my rapidly beating heart and bravely asked him. “How much for you to come out once?” He replied quickly: “How many people.” Whoa, group activities too? I was momentarily stunned by his wide range of services. Ugh, with the economy in the dumps, even us sugar mamas are feeling the pinch. My spirit animal must be a rusty old sponge – its flower language is pure, unadulterated suffering. I sighed for a moment: “Just one person.” I thought for a moment and then asked: “Any discounts?” The other side was silent for a moment, seemingly not expecting my question. After a brief pause, four bolded words popped up. “NO BARGAINING.” So cool and aloof. Business must be booming. He probably realized his tone was a bit stiff. A moment later, another message came. “Any special requests.” Me: ! Was the service *that* good? Paying definitely made a difference, making my mind race with naughty thoughts. My face flushed crimson, my brain like a wild horse, replaying every comic, video, and story I’d ever seen. It took me a long time to timidly type out my reply. “Anything goes?” The other side fell into a deep silence again, longer than before. Finally, after a long pause, two concise words appeared. “Extra charge.” …My inner fangirl suddenly keeled over. I instantly became pure and desireless: “Oh, then never mind.” After sending him my name, birthday, and a photo as requested, I casually asked. “What’s your name?” The cool guy’s reply was just as cool. “No need to know. Once the transaction is complete, we won’t be in touch again.” Wow, this is that legendary cold, hard cash transaction, isn’t it? Adulting is really something else. Me: “I need something to call you. A stage name?” He seemed to ponder, typing for a moment, then slowly replied. “Codename, Phoenix.”

On the appointed day. Excited, I grabbed my bag and rushed to the agreed-upon meeting spot. In the coffee shop, I couldn’t help my anxiety, checking the clock again and again. But after a long wait, he still didn’t show up. As the agreed time passed and no one appeared, my heart felt like a receding tide, slowly becoming dry and empty. Could I have been stood up? Before leaving in disappointment, I made one last desperate attempt, craning my neck to glance at the entrance. Both inside the coffee shop and right outside the door, there was no one. The road outside was also sparsely populated. Unwilling to give up, I repeatedly scanned my surroundings. Until my gaze landed on a tall figure in the shade of a distant tree across the street. Suddenly, my eyes lit up. The man had a slender build. Even the top button of his shirt was perfectly fastened, and he wore dark sunglasses and a mask, his entire body meticulously covered. Only a pair of distinctly jointed hands were the sole bright spot in the picture. Normally, without seeing a face, one couldn’t identify a person. But was I a normal person? I’m a seasoned connoisseur, capable of navigating countless websites and creating multiple accounts just to find the *really good stuff*! My instincts are never wrong! Damn it, those hands *had* to belong to my muscular god. I quickly ran over. Up close, I noticed he was even more robust, easily standing at six-foot-three. His pants pocket was bulging, making me wonder what treasures he might be hiding. That chest. Those legs. That absolute unit of a physique. My mouth watered, and my long wait’s annoyance significantly diminished. Maybe he got the location wrong? I tapped his shoulder: “What are you doing standing here? Why didn’t you come over?” The cool guy stiffened when I touched him. He looked bewildered for a second, then cautiously stepped back, eyeing me coldly. “You’ve got the wrong person.” I couldn’t help but rub my ear. His voice was amazing too, like the low thrum of a cello, every note scraped a delicious itch in my soul. Too bad it was so cold. I tried to explain again: “No, I haven’t. I’ve been waiting for you for ages. Since you didn’t come, I had to find you.” He was silent for a few seconds, his voice still distant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I instantly felt a little annoyed, putting my hands on my hips, huffing. “What’s wrong with you?! You got paid, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you’re backing out now, it’s too late!” The man was silent for a moment, his chest rising and falling as if he let out a long breath. He gave up and took off his sunglasses and mask, revealing a handsome face. One hand slid into his slightly bulging pants pocket, and he took a step closer to me. His narrow eyes flickered toward me, as if assessing my intentions. “Since you already know, what do you want?” Such a captivating beauty was now so close. I instantly forgot my anger. Shyly, I lowered my gaze, my eyes darting around. “I, um… booked a hotel room. We can talk inside.” I cleared my throat, gesturing around us. “There are too many people coming and going on the street, it’s not suitable for… business.” He didn’t move for a while. Afraid he might misunderstand, I quickly waved my hands in explanation. “Don’t worry, I don’t actually intend to *do* anything to you. It’s just, well, I just wanted to meet and talk.” My voice got softer and softer as I spoke. “As for other things, unless you’re willing…” He suddenly stepped forward and leaned over me. Suddenly, I was enveloped in his shadow. Compared to his strong, tall physique, I felt like a fragile doll that could break with a touch. I unconsciously held my breath. Seeing my reaction, a short smile flitted across his lips. For a moment, the ice melted. Revealing deep waters, dangerous and alluring. His low, magnetic male voice penetrated my eardrums. “I’m not worried. On the contrary, *you* should be worried about what *I* might do to you.” With that, he turned and walked towards the hotel. Leaving me standing there stunned. It took a long while for me to let out a little “Awooo” and cover my burning cheeks. Did I just get reverse-flirted? Is this the power of a professional male model? Terrifying!

On the big bed in the hotel room. Kaelen and I sat side by side, the atmosphere very silent. To liven things up, I had to find a random topic. “Why did you get into this line of work?” “Couldn’t do anything else.” I instantly imagined the classic tragic trope: a poor young man dropping out, losing his job, and finally ending up in the escort business. I tried to offer polite comfort. “Hey, this isn’t so bad either. It’s a long-standing profession with a rich history, you shouldn’t feel ashamed.” Kaelen seemed disinclined to talk about his job, frowning. “Let’s get to the point. What do you want to do?” Straight to business, huh? Wasn’t that a bit fast? I shyly rubbed my hands: “O-Okay. What can we do? Can we… get intimate?” His frown deepened: “*I* ‘intimate’ *you*?” Huh? What else? I asked confused: “Or, should *I* ‘intimate’ *you*?” “No.” “Then can I, uh, touch your… gun?” “No.” “How about just looking?” “No.” “Touching your pecs must be okay, right?” “Absolutely not!!” Kaelen’s suddenly raised voice startled me. I stared blankly at the man who had suddenly moved a step away, his ears flushed. Why so agitated? My previous requests weren’t any less scandalous, so perhaps his chest was a sensitive spot? I thought for a moment, then just asked directly: “You’re all about show, no… other services?” He thought for a moment: “Yes.” *What a chaste man*. Looks like tonight would be pure conversation under the covers. I yawned bored: “Alright, I’m going to take a shower. Make yourself at home.” He didn’t move, seemingly indifferent. When I came out wrapped in a towel. I saw Kaelen sitting on the bed, looking through my phone. “Hey! Don’t you have any professional ethics?!” I angrily pounced, trying to snatch it back. The man was tall with long legs, and with one arm raised, he easily evaded me, leaving his phone out of my reach even on tiptoes. Instead, it looked like I was throwing myself into his arms, rubbing and touching him. Several times, my face almost buried itself in his bulging chest. Kaelen pressed his lips tightly together, grabbing my wrists and pinning them to the headboard, immobilizing me. His voice was a little strained and hoarse. “You’re my client?” I froze for a moment, then suddenly understood. He had been looking through our chat history. Did he think someone else had booked the male model for me? What’s wrong with a woman booking a male model for herself? The Dark Ages are over, you old-fashioned conservative. I glared at him in dissatisfaction. “Yes, so what?!” The grip on my wrists loosened slightly. Kaelen frowned, looking at me sharply for a moment. His expression seemed to hold a hint of disappointment. He chastised me in a low voice: “So young, why are you so reckless?” I was startled by his scolding. When I came to my senses, I grew even more indignant— I was right! This guy was a total old-fashioned conservative!

“I’m not taking this job.” The man coldly tossed out the words, releasing me. I stared blankly as he turned and strode out. What did he mean? Was he looking down on me? A male model, daring to choose his clients. This was outrageous! How dare he choose his clients! I was going to leave him a five-hundred-word scathing review! Furious, I sprang from the bed. I threw on my clothes and chased him out, yelling. “If you won’t do it, plenty of others will! I’ll buy even better ones in a bit! Ten of them!” The figure ahead in the hallway suddenly paused. The man turned his head, his expression complex. “If I refuse, you’ll just buy someone else?” He crossed the distance between us in a few steps. His tone was almost heartbroken. “Can’t you think of something better? Give up that idea, do you *have* to… do *that*?” Why couldn’t I have some worldly desires? Men aren’t the only ones with needs, you know. Just as I was about to argue with him. A familiar, irritating voice suddenly sounded behind me. Someone called out with a smile: “Zara Campbell, what are you doing here?” I turned back, annoyed. Sure enough, I saw a handsome but utterly repulsive face – my ex-boyfriend, Bryce Coleman. Bryce’s silk robe was loosely tied. A trail of vivid red hickeys snaked from his neck down to his collarbone. Several ambiguous scratch marks were half-hidden beneath the fabric on his chest. Who knew whose bed he’d just gotten out of. Not long ago, I discovered he was frequently hooking up with other people. When I caught him in the act, he casually zipped up his trousers, leaned against the hotel headboard, and lit a cigar. He exhaled a perfectly formed smoke ring, smiling faintly at my furious questions. “It’s just for fun, don’t worry.” He reached out to take my hand, his voice almost gentle. “You’re my only real girlfriend.” It was like ice-cold water poured directly onto the magma of my surging anger. In that moment, I suddenly calmed down. Bryce might have looked human, just like me, but the chasm in our beliefs was wider than the gap between species. You can’t reason with a dog, and there was no point in arguing further. I pulled my hand away from his touch and slapped him hard across the face. “Not anymore.” As I left, I saw him standing there stunned. The cigar, which he’d been holding leisurely, fell to the carpet, burning small, irreparable black marks. I closed my eyes, trying to suppress the unpleasant memories that rose in my mind. But the dog across from me wouldn’t stop barking. Bryce eyed me, idly stroking his chin with interest. “Are you here to check up on me? You just said you wanted to break up, but you’re already regretting it?” He chuckled: “You little hypocrite.” …Oh my god! If I had committed a crime, the law should punish me, not put me through this torture by disgust. I felt so sick I wanted to throw up. Then I thought, I shouldn’t be the only one suffering. I looked around, grabbed Kaelen by the arm, and intimately linked mine with his. “Don’t say such silly things. My boyfriend will get mad.” Bryce was incredibly self-absorbed. He believed his little ex-girlfriend would be pining for him, so me quickly finding someone new was another slap in the face. Hearing my words, Bryce’s expression indeed stiffened. A moment later, a malicious smile suddenly appeared on his face. “Oh really? Well, then he should call me ‘senior.’ “After all, he’s just playing with my sloppy seconds.” “…!” I felt a chill run through my body. The next instant, my hand was suddenly enveloped in a warm grip. Kaelen took half a step forward, blocking Bryce’s slimy gaze from me. He coldly swept his eyes over the suggestive marks on Bryce’s body. “Are you calling yourself even sloppier?” Society taught women to be ashamed of their sexual experiences, but men boasted about how many women they’d slept with. Bryce probably never expected Kaelen, another man, to break that unspoken rule and judge him by the very standards society imposed on women. Bryce gaped for a long moment. Finally, unable to maintain his civilized facade, anger filled his eyes: “You…” “Want to fight?” Kaelen cut him off, stepping forward until he was right in front of Bryce. His six-foot-three frame and imposing, muscular build instantly made Bryce look like a scrawny stick. Bryce stared at him darkly. After a long pause, his gaze went past Kaelen’s shoulder and landed on me. The intensity in his eyes seemed to want to flay me alive. “Fine. I’ll remember this.”

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After successfully winning over the brooding male lead, I chose to immediately leave that world. Even though he begged me, desperate and broken, to stay, I didn’t spare him a single second. Later, back in the real world, things weren’t going well for me. The System found me, offering five million to return to the story and win him over again. I was about to agree when, suddenly, live comments flooded my vision: “OMG, the ex-wife, who dumped our guy, is back!” “Lol, she can’t seriously think he still loves her, right?” “The second girl who came to win him over didn’t just manage to reduce his darkness level to negative one hundred; she willingly stayed, giving him the complete family he always yearned for.” “Now the happy couple is about to get married. Can’t the ex-wife just have some dignity and leave them alone?” It took me a long time to process. The “ex-wife” the comments were talking about was me. Beside me, the System was still chattering away, trying to sell me on the deal. “You just need to make Damien Thorne fall in love with you again, and you’ll get five million. Even if you fail, you’ll get fifty thousand for your effort. How about it? A good deal, right?” It was a good deal. And right now, I really needed that money. But remembering the live comments, I fell silent for a moment, saying I needed to think about it. So, the System decided to send me back into the story first. To be precise, it sent me back to the home Damien and I once shared. The small apartment, just a few hundred square feet, was old but cozy, just as I remembered it three years ago. Damien hadn’t touched any of my things. Even the dress I’d accidentally stained before leaving, he’d somehow cleaned and hung neatly in the closet. I remembered that dress was from a trendy designer label back then. When Damien secretly bought it for me, I’d scolded him fiercely for spending so much. He wouldn’t argue, just lowered his gaze obediently, waiting for my anger to fade. Then he’d gently coax me into trying it on. I lowered my head, looking at the silky fabric in my hands. Taking a deep breath. If Damien had really forgotten about me. Then why was he still keeping this apartment? I looked up again, surveying the small room. My gaze was suddenly drawn to a white sheet of paper taped to the window. On the translucent sheet of paper, a few scrawled words stood out: “HOUSE FOR SALE. NEGOTIABLE. URGENT.” The sharp, decisive handwriting was unmistakably Damien’s.

Again, dense lines of text appeared before my eyes: “Hahaha, the ex-wife must be stunned, huh? Our guy isn’t holding onto their past; he just hasn’t gotten around to selling the place yet.” “The ex-wife still thinks Damien loves her like before, but nope! With Chloe, he wouldn’t spare her a second glance.” “The System only made her come back to cause trouble for Damien and Chloe. The ex-wife is just setting herself up for public humiliation.” I pursed my lips. So, that was it. The System dared to offer five million because it was utterly convinced I’d fail. Its real goal was to make me the villainess, an obstacle to the main couple’s love story. It just got my labor for fifty thousand, practically for free. Fifty thousand. I gave a self-deprecating laugh. Being a clown for fifty grand wasn’t nothing. It was a week’s worth of ICU treatment, after all. I called out to the System and readily agreed to the deal. The System beamed, giving me a large sum of money for my expenses during this time, though it could only be used in this world. Since Damien was so eager to sell this apartment. Why don’t I just buy it? I clutched my phone, dialing the familiar number from memory. It took half a minute for someone to pick up. A clear, youthful voice chimed from the other end: “Hello, who is this?” I froze for a second. I looked down to confirm, it was indeed Damien’s number. “I was passing by and saw the ‘for sale’ sign on the window…” “You want to buy the house?” The person on the other end exclaimed with surprise: “That’s great! Someone finally wants this place.” I cautiously asked: “Are you the owner?” “I’m the owner’s girlfriend. You can just call me Chloe.” So, she was the second System Host. In my moment of distraction, there was a brief commotion on the other end, like two people whispering. It seemed like a long time passed. Someone picked up the phone again. Damien’s cold voice came through clearly: “Hello, would it be convenient to meet and discuss?”

I waited restlessly in the coffee shop for a long time. Until a low-key luxury car pulled up in front. The car door opened, and a stunning couple emerged. Three years hadn’t changed Damien’s striking looks. The youthful innocence in his eyes had faded, replaced by the calm composure that came with power and wealth. He leaned casually against the car door. Chloe must have said something, because he smiled and ruffled her hair. Even from a distance, his eyes flickered in my direction. It was only for a second, a brief, dismissive glance, before his gaze went utterly blank again, like a still pond. Chloe sat across from me while I was still lost in thought. She smiled apologetically at me: “My boyfriend had an appointment, so he could only drop me off. I’m here to handle this for him.” I nodded genuinely: “I can see you two have a great relationship.” Chloe’s smile deepened: “My boyfriend runs a tech company; his pure profit alone is over a hundred million a year. We don’t really need the money from this house; we just don’t want to keep it anymore.” Her tone carried a hint of subtle superiority. I nodded, and, following protocol, asked to see the house. Chloe hesitated, a flicker of awkwardness in her eyes: “The house key isn’t with me. If you want to see it, my boyfriend will have to take you personally.” I was slightly surprised, confused: “He didn’t give you the key before you came?” Logically, buying and selling a house always involves a viewing. Damien couldn’t possibly not know that. Chloe sighed with a苦笑 (bitter smile): “I asked for the key, but he wouldn’t give it to me, and he’s never taken me there either.” She lowered her voice: “To be honest with you, this is where he lived with his ex-wife when he started out, and honestly, it just gives me the creeps, so I really want to sell it fast.” I said “Oh.” “In that case, I don’t need to see the house. Let’s just sign the contract.” Chloe was overjoyed. Afraid I might change my mind, she immediately pulled out the sales agreement. However, she didn’t have the property deed, so the transfer couldn’t happen immediately. We still had to wait for Damien. Sitting idly, bored. Looking at this other System Host, just like me. I curiously probed: “How did you two get together?” Actually, I wanted to know how she managed to win Damien over. The System had told me. After I left that world, Damien briefly spiraled into a secondary dark phase. He slit his wrists, attempted suicide, and his darkness level became so extreme it threatened the very stability of this world. Chloe came into his life at that time. She not only reduced his darkness level but completely replaced me in his heart. Damien wasn’t an easy person to win over. She must have gone through a lot. Yet Chloe said with a beaming smile: “He had just been abandoned by his ex-wife then and was completely disheartened. I kept comforting him, and we confirmed our relationship not long after.” It was that simple? I could barely believe it. Again, a flood of mocking comments appeared before me: “Hahaha, the ex-wife must be so triggered, right? Damien just has no resistance to our girl!” “Don’t forget the ex-wife spent ten whole years trying to win him over, throwing herself at him countless times before he finally, reluctantly, got with her.” “Chloe just talked to him a bit, and all the ex-wife’s years of effort went to waste. That’s the power of true love!” … I silently read the sarcastic remarks. They were right. My process of winning Damien over had indeed been incredibly difficult. So difficult that I never wanted to go through it again.

Damien’s parents didn’t love him. At a young age, they abandoned him at a psychiatric institution, leaving him at the mercy of abusive staff and relentless bullying. The patients confined there were lunatics and violent maniacs; the entire institution was like a prison, heavily guarded. So, even with the System’s help. When I rescued him from the psychiatric institution, I almost lost half my life. I brought Damien to an unfamiliar city. I wanted him to study, to lead a normal, decent life. I even arranged expensive psychological counseling for him every week. I did all of this because I wanted him to completely trust me. But Damien was too smart. He easily saw through the truth of this world, including my identity and purpose. After high school, Damien became the top student in the state. I happily celebrated with him. But he subtly pulled my arm, his expression cold, with a hint of self-mockery that was hard to detect. “You’re doing all this for me because you want to win me over, right?” After the initial shock. I sighed, choked up, and said: “I like you. That’s my purpose.” Damien snorted lightly, clearly not believing me. I felt a little nervous, but still rested my head on his chest, muttering softly: “Damien, don’t dwell on all those trivial things. These past few years have been so hard for me; you need to make my life easier soon.” “I truly like you. Please don’t question me like this anymore; it really hurts.” … After college graduation, Damien started his own business. We moved into that small, old apartment. There was no heating in the winter. I’ve always been sensitive to the cold, and my feet would get stiff and ache. Every night, Damien would rub my feet, silently, his eyes red with concern. By that time, we were already married. His life’s ambition shifted from founding a tech company to, well, destroying the world, to the rather mundane goal of just making enough money to buy his wife a house. We hustled during the day and nestled together on that small bed at night. When I was trying to secure investments, one CEO made things incredibly difficult for me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Damien, so I just walked the streets alone, crying. And when faced with deliberate retaliation from competitors, I firmly shielded Damien, protecting him, while I ended up in the operating room myself. I can’t even count how many times I went through things like that. That’s how long it took for Damien to slowly, finally, fall in love with me. Compared to my ten-year effort to win him over. Chloe only took three short weeks. To reduce Damien’s darkness level to negative one hundred. And raise his affection level to one hundred percent. 6. Chloe was still telling me about the sweet details of her relationship with Damien. She said Damien fell in love with her at first sight. I suppressed a pang of sadness and took a sip of my milkshake. “Did he… ever mention his ex-wife to you?” Chloe thought for a moment, then smiled triumphantly: “Never. He must have moved on from her long ago.” I nodded. I hoped so. I didn’t want to genuinely sabotage their relationship either. When Damien arrived, I’d pretend to be regretful, throwing myself at him. Knowing his personality, he’d probably be disgusted and avoid me at all costs, right? Once he rejected me, I’d take my fifty grand and happily leave this world. As I was planning this, Chloe suddenly got a call and told me excitedly: “My boyfriend just finished his meeting and is coming to pick me up now. We’re going on a date, so let’s talk about the house tomorrow.” I froze for a second, forcing a smile and nodding: “Then I’ll just go…” Chloe affectionately took my arm: “Where do you live? I’ll have my boyfriend drop you off.” My smile froze. Chloe was so enthusiastic. So much so that by the time I realized what was happening, the car door was already closed. A cool, crisp pine scent, like an expensive cologne, slowly permeated the air. Beside me, Chloe’s voice was playful as she showed Damien her freshly done manicure. Damien was sitting in front of me. From my angle, I could see his distinct, bony fingers on the steering wheel. He focused intently on the road, yet responded to her every word. Watching the man’s striking features in the rearview mirror, I felt a momentary blur. Damien was never this patient with me. When we were together, he was always so insecure, afraid of losing me. Every night, he would wake up abruptly, frantically reaching for my side of the bed. I could only, tiredly, reassure him again and again: “I won’t leave you alone. I love you, and it has nothing to do with the mission.” I kept telling him that lie until the moment I left that world. Damien wept, clutching my hand, begging me not to go, begging me to stay a little longer, to spend a few more years with him. I sighed, refusing him every time. His face was pale, his eyes swirling with pain and madness: “Why? Don’t you love me? How can you bear to leave me? Didn’t you say you’d never leave me alone?” I gave a bitter smile: “I have my own love in the real world.” … Catching my gaze, Damien frowned and slowly lifted his eyes. Our eyes met. The car lurched forward violently—a sudden brake. I wasn’t prepared and hit my forehead hard against the window, leaving a red mark. “Sorry.” Damien’s voice sounded somewhat hoarse. He turned his head slightly: “We’re at your place.” I finally realized, said “Oh,” and thanked him. When I got in the car, Chloe had asked for my address, and I’d just randomly picked a neighborhood. I made plans to meet Chloe again and then got out of the car. Damien kept his eyes down, never looking back at me. He didn’t hesitate for a second; the car’s tail disappeared from sight in an instant. At the entrance of the bustling neighborhood. I slowly crouched down, hugging myself. Who knows how much more time passed. The familiar luxury car silently and forcefully pulled up in front of me. The car window slowly rolled down, revealing the sharply defined profile of a man. Damien just calmly looked at me: “Get in.” 7. I’d thought Damien would find a way to see me. But I never imagined it would be so soon. So fast that I hadn’t even had time to prepare myself to face him. During the standoff, Damien lit a cigarette. I frowned abruptly. I didn’t like Damien smoking. In the past, I would have snatched it away and stomped it out without a word. And back then, Damien was always obedient. If I said quit smoking, he wouldn’t touch another cigarette. He would never have acted like this. Staring at me unabashedly through the pale tendrils of smoke. I held back, just about to speak. The live comments once again flooded the screen: “Why is the ex-wife acting so demure? Does she seriously think Damien still has feelings for her?” “Damien already knows she’s back, but he didn’t want to make Chloe overthink, so he didn’t reveal her identity in the car.” “If it weren’t to warn her not to say anything stupid in front of Chloe, Damien wouldn’t bother meeting her alone.” I stood silently. It was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over me. That momentary impulse vanished without a trace. Now, I didn’t care about his status. The cool, pale hand resting on the car window dropped lazily. Damien pulled his eyes away, expressionless. Lost in thought, he put out the cigarette with a hint of sarcasm. “You wanted to buy the house, right? Get in, I’ll take you to see it.” 8. The drive was silent. Damien showed no inclination to speak. But the comments in my vision were a cacophony. “Good thing the ex-wife is smart enough to know the passenger seat is for the girlfriend. She voluntarily sat in the back.” “Damien’s supposed to be warning the ex-wife, so why is he taking her to their old house?” “Don’t worry, upstairs! Damien just doesn’t know the ex-wife’s little schemes yet. Once her true colors are exposed, he’ll hate her even more.” … At the door. I couldn’t help but ask: “Don’t you have anything… to ask me?” Damien’s hand, holding the key, paused. He looked down, raised an eyebrow, and quietly waited for me to continue. I gathered my courage: “Like why I came back, how long I’ll stay, or… what my purpose is in buying this house.” “Not interested.” Damien withdrew his gaze, his tone indifferent: “I don’t care who buys this place; I’ll erase everything associated with you. As for why you came back…” With his hands in his pockets, he seemed to let out a small, mocking laugh: “It wouldn’t be to win me over again, would it?” I was silent for a second: “What if it is?” 9. “You’re welcome to try.” Damien raised his hand and pushed the door open. *Creak*. Everything inside the room was once again clearly laid out before me. A shaft of slanted light, dust motes dancing. Damien stood behind me and to my left, his clothes brushing against my sleeve. He didn’t speak, nor did I. In the silence, it felt like we were back in an ordinary afternoon after we got married. We were returning home from the grocery store. His fingers were laden with plastic bags full of all my favorite foods and snacks. We laughed and joked all the way. When the door closed. I jumped onto him, wrapping my arms around his neck, giggling as I sought his lips. Damien leaned back helplessly. Until his back was pressed against the door, he held my waist and kissed me back, gently. … My wrist was suddenly seized. My body stiffened. Damien quickly let go, his expression returning to normal: “Take a look. Selling it to you is fine; it saves me the trouble of cleaning the place.” I nodded, casually walked around, and came back: “No problem. I’ve already arranged with Chloe to transfer the deed tomorrow. Just give her the property deed, you don’t need to show up.” “Alright.” Damien agreed readily. His tone paused for a second, then he said with slow, mocking sarcasm: “You don’t need to be so guarded with me. If I could, I’d wish to never see you again.” “This private meeting with you is because I was afraid you’d say something stupid in front of Chloe,” he raised an eyebrow at me, “I don’t want her to be unhappy, do you understand?” I took a quiet, deep breath: “I won’t mention our relationship to Chloe.” “Good.” Silence again. With things said to this extent. I knew, of course, that I should discreetly leave. But for those fifty thousand dollars. I still spoke, my voice a little choked: “Damien, I was wrong back then. I shouldn’t have abandoned you and left.” A ripple appeared in Damien’s dark, deep eyes. He narrowed his eyes, staring at me, seemingly lost in thought: “Go on.” “I came back this time because I wanted to make it up to you, and I realized I still like you. Can you…” I nervously looked at him: “Consider me… just one more time?” 9. The room fell into a dead silence. As soon as I finished speaking, my vision was practically drowned in an overwhelming flood of mocking comments. I closed my eyes in shame. My face was burning, hot with embarrassment. After a long moment. Someone in the room let out a low chuckle: “What? Did your husband in the real world finally die, and now you’re coming back to your eternal backup?” I snapped my head up, my eye twitching for a moment. My lips trembled slightly with anger. All of this registered in Damien’s dark eyes. He raised an eyebrow: “My apologies, didn’t you notice? I have my own love now.” His tone was light and dismissive. Yet, those dark pupils were fixed intently on me. My eyes felt a little dry; I blinked hard: “I know.” Damien seemed to smile faintly, or perhaps there was no emotion at all. Finally, he just left, pushing the door open, leaving me with his retreating back. “YES! God knows how long I’ve waited for this moment!” “Hahahaha, the boomerang finally came back to hit the ex-wife!” “The ex-wife should just leave the System already. Even if she saves Damien a hundred more times, he’ll never love her again.” “But Damien still went soft on her, leaving the house key so she wouldn’t be homeless… Wait, what’s under the key?” I stiffened slightly, looking at the table covered with a clear tablecloth. Damien had indeed left the apartment key behind before he left. Under the old, yellowish key, there was a red booklet. “OMG! Am I seeing things? It’s the property deed!” “Why would Damien leave the property deed to the ex-wife?! Shouldn’t such an important document be given to Chloe?!” I tremblingly opened the property deed. Suddenly, the comments went silent. Only my name was written on the property deed. 10. I suddenly remembered. When we bought this apartment, Damien handled all the paperwork. I knew I would eventually leave, and to avoid future complications, I specifically instructed him to only put my name on it. I didn’t expect him to only listen halfway. He did indeed only write one name, but that person was me. So this was my apartment all along; there was no need for me to buy it. The comments became lively again: “I get it! Damien must not want the ex-wife to meet Chloe again, so he pulled this trick.” “Makes sense. Damien is now a billionaire, a self-made tech mogul. A house worth a few hundred thousand is nothing to him; it’s less than a single piece of jewelry for Chloe!” “Ah, I’m dying of sweetness! Damien’s love for Chloe is so obvious! They’ve been together for over a year, and he still can’t bear to even touch her hand…” I gave a self-deprecating laugh. So that was it. I called out to the System: “I failed to win him over. Can I go back to my original world now?” The System slowly typed out a question mark: “You’re too perfunctory, aren’t you? You think a simple confession is enough to make him fall in love with you again? Where’s the relentless drive you used to have to win him over?” I sighed: “I did my best. So, what would constitute ‘not perfunctory’?” The System was silent for a moment: “You actively kiss the male lead.” “What?” I was startled. “If the male lead pushes you away, we’ll consider it a failed attempt to win him over. You can exit the world and receive fifty thousand.” “If he doesn’t push you away…” The System paused: “Then you’ll have to stay in this world until you win him over again.” ***PAYWALL SECTION START*** 11. “Has this damn System lost its mind?” “The ex-wife actually agreed. What a bitch.” “Waaah, I don’t want Damien and Chloe to have problems, nooooo!” I remained silent. In this story, someone always had to be the villain. If not me, then someone else. I haggled: “Since you’ve made a demand, I want more in return. One hundred thousand, not a cent less.” For the System, this amount was negligible. It agreed, but with some doubt: “Are you really that short on cash?” “Of course.” The System continued to ask: “Is it worth sacrificing the rest of your life for someone who will never wake up?” A pale face flashed before my eyes. I said: “You wouldn’t understand.” The next day, Chloe invited me to lunch to thank me for solving her big headache. “I think, even if he doesn’t say it, he still cares about her,” Chloe whispered her complaints to me. “Honestly, many people asked about buying this house over the years, but he didn’t want to sell it, which is why it dragged on until now.” I paused, then shook my head: “You’re overthinking it. If he really didn’t want to sell it, why would he put up a ‘for sale’ sign?” Chloe gave me a knowing look, then leaned in mysteriously, sighing: “Let me be frank with you, actually…” Her words were cut short as the glass next to our table suddenly shattered. A massive roar followed. Glass shards flew everywhere; I quickly pulled Chloe behind me. A middle-aged man drove an oversized excavator straight into the restaurant. “OMG, OMG! The villain’s here! Here comes the legendary hero to the rescue!” “Who will Damien save first~ So hard to guess~” “Can the villain just kill the ex-wife already? Her pretentious act is so annoying!” In the bumpy trunk of a car. Chloe was terrified and panicked, her eyes red like a little white rabbit. A year ago, when she met Damien, he had already built a vast business empire. On the surface, he was merely a tech magnate, but in this city, where his influence stretched far beyond the law, he was practically untouchable. Under his protection, Chloe had experienced virtually no hardships. But I was different. During the years I spent trying to win Damien over, he hadn’t yet become as powerful as he was today, and he couldn’t always protect me. In the business world, it was all open hostility and underhanded tactics. Being kidnapped, I was already… used to it. I struggled to turn around, gently touched her forehead, signaling her to calm down. Meanwhile, the villain had stopped the car in a desolate wasteland. He picked up an iron bar from the passenger seat and walked coldly towards us. “Whoa, he’s going to hit someone with a bar that thick?” “That looks so scary, it’ll hurt so much, don’t hurt our girl, noooo!” “It’s not going to be a bad ending, right? If Chloe dies, Damien will probably go insane again.” “Exactly, when the ex-wife left, Damien nearly destroyed himself. If Chloe gets hurt again…” Watching Chloe curl up in fear. I closed my eyes. Chloe saved Damien. She rescued him, giving him the motivation to live a good life. If she died too… The moment the weapon swung towards Chloe, I moved, pushing myself in front of her. 12. Piercing police sirens cut through the howling wind. The weapon paused in mid-air, an inch from my face, frozen in panic. Amidst a flurry of “????????”, I remained in a posture that felt like I was about to be decapitated any second, difficultly looking into the distance. Several police cars surrounded the desolate area. The car door opened, and Damien almost leaped out, his eyes immediately fixed on me. In my peripheral vision, his expression went blank for a moment, his eyelashes trembling, yet his face remained emotionless. Only his eyes, in that instant, turned completely red. The villain quickly made a decision between me and Chloe. He grabbed Chloe, holding a sharp box cutter to her carotid artery. Amidst her screams, he dragged her quickly backward, moving further and further away from me, even further than from the police. The police rapidly surrounded him, confronting the villain. I seemed to be safe. Still shaken, I tried to stand up. The next second. Someone lunged forward and embraced me. 13. Damien was trembling. He held me in a death grip, so tight I could barely breathe. My neck slowly became soaked. I almost wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t. I could only, as I had done countless times before, stroke his back, gently: “It’s okay, see? I’m fine. I told you I’d be okay, why don’t you believe me?” The person in my arms remained silent. That wildly beating heart finally calmed down under my soothing touch. “?? Damien hates the ex-wife, so why was his first instinct to hug her?” “Hate my ass! Subconscious reactions don’t lie; he clearly loves her to death!” “So what about our girl? Chloe’s still with the bad guy!!!” My heart sank. I pulled away: “Let go. Everyone’s watching. Chloe is still with the bad guy; we need to save her first…” “At a time like this, you’re still thinking about someone else?” Damien cut me off abruptly, his cold, rough voice trembling uncontrollably: “Why did you shield her? If I had been even a second late…” “I won’t die,” I whispered. “Even if I die here, at most, I’ll just return to reality.” But Chloe was different. Once a System Host decides to remain in this world, their real-world body automatically dies, and they can only live out the rest of their days within the story. Chloe dying in this world meant she was truly dead, in every sense. Damien’s expression slowly faded. Even his breathing seemed to turn cold, leaving only a moist red mark at the corner of his eye. He lowered his head slightly, looking at his trembling hands, giving a self-deprecating laugh: “How pathetic. I worried for nothing. I almost forgot you don’t belong here.” “Right, you have a precious husband in a vegetative state back in the real world. You can’t wait to leave here and go back to him.” After successfully winning over the brooding male lead, I chose to immediately leave that world. Even though he begged me, desperate and broken, to stay, I didn’t spare him a single second. Later, back in the real world, things weren’t going well for me. The System found me, offering five million to return to the story and win him over again. I was about to agree when, suddenly, live comments flooded my vision: “OMG, the ex-wife, who dumped our guy, is back!” “Lol, she can’t seriously think he still loves her, right?” “The second girl who came to win him over didn’t just manage to reduce his darkness level to negative one hundred; she willingly stayed, giving him the complete family he always yearned for.” “Now the happy couple is about to get married. Can’t the ex-wife just have some dignity and leave them alone?” 1. It took me a long time to process. The “ex-wife” the comments were talking about was me. Beside me, the System was still chattering away, trying to sell me on the deal. “You just need to make Damien Thorne fall in love with you again, and you’ll get five million. Even if you fail, you’ll get fifty thousand for your effort. How about it? A good deal, right?” It was a good deal. And right now, I really needed that money. But remembering the live comments, I fell silent for a moment, saying I needed to think about it. So, the System decided to send me back into the story first. To be precise, it sent me back to the home Damien and I once shared. The small apartment, just a few hundred square feet, was old but cozy, just as I remembered it three years ago. Damien hadn’t touched any of my things. Even the dress I’d accidentally stained before leaving, he’d somehow cleaned and hung neatly in the closet. I remembered that dress was from a trendy designer label back then. When Damien secretly bought it for me, I’d scolded him fiercely for spending so much. He wouldn’t argue, just lowered his gaze obediently, waiting for my anger to fade. Then he’d gently coax me into trying it on. I lowered my head, looking at the silky fabric in my hands. Taking a deep breath. If Damien had really forgotten about me. Then why was he still keeping this apartment? I looked up again, surveying the small room. My gaze was suddenly drawn to a white sheet of paper taped to the window. On the translucent sheet of paper, a few scrawled words stood out: “HOUSE FOR SALE. NEGOTIABLE. URGENT.” The sharp, decisive handwriting was unmistakably Damien’s. 2. Again, dense lines of text appeared before my eyes: “Hahaha, the ex-wife must be stunned, huh? Our guy isn’t holding onto their past; he just hasn’t gotten around to selling the place yet.” “The ex-wife still thinks Damien loves her like before, but nope! With Chloe, he wouldn’t spare her a second glance.” “The System only made her come back to cause trouble for Damien and Chloe. The ex-wife is just setting herself up for public humiliation.” I pursed my lips. So, that was it. The System dared to offer five million because it was utterly convinced I’d fail. Its real goal was to make me the villainess, an obstacle to the main couple’s love story. It just got my labor for fifty thousand, practically for free. Fifty thousand. I gave a self-deprecating laugh. Being a clown for fifty grand wasn’t nothing. It was a week’s worth of ICU treatment, after all. I called out to the System and readily agreed to the deal. The System beamed, giving me a large sum of money for my expenses during this time, though it could only be used in this world. Since Damien was so eager to sell this apartment. Why don’t I just buy it? I clutched my phone, dialing the familiar number from memory. It took half a minute for someone to pick up. A clear, youthful voice chimed from the other end: “Hello, who is this?” I froze for a second. I looked down to confirm, it was indeed Damien’s number. “I was passing by and saw the ‘for sale’ sign on the window…” “You want to buy the house?” The person on the other end exclaimed with surprise: “That’s great! Someone finally wants this place.” I cautiously asked: “Are you the owner?” “I’m the owner’s girlfriend. You can just call me Chloe.” So, she was the second System Host. In my moment of distraction, there was a brief commotion on the other end, like two people whispering. It seemed like a long time passed. Someone picked up the phone again. Damien’s cold voice came through clearly: “Hello, would it be convenient to meet and discuss?” 3. I waited restlessly in the coffee shop for a long time. Until a low-key luxury car pulled up in front. The car door opened, and a stunning couple emerged. Three years hadn’t changed Damien’s striking looks. The youthful innocence in his eyes had faded, replaced by the calm composure that came with power and wealth. He leaned casually against the car door. Chloe must have said something, because he smiled and ruffled her hair. Even from a distance, his eyes flickered in my direction. It was only for a second, a brief, dismissive glance, before his gaze went utterly blank again, like a still pond. Chloe sat across from me while I was still lost in thought. She smiled apologetically at me: “My boyfriend had an appointment, so he could only drop me off. I’m here to handle this for him.” I nodded genuinely: “I can see you two have a great relationship.” Chloe’s smile deepened: “My boyfriend runs a tech company; his pure profit alone is over a hundred million a year. We don’t really need the money from this house; we just don’t want to keep it anymore.” Her tone carried a hint of subtle superiority. I nodded, and, following protocol, asked to see the house. Chloe hesitated, a flicker of awkwardness in her eyes: “The house key isn’t with me. If you want to see it, my boyfriend will have to take you personally.” I was slightly surprised, confused: “He didn’t give you the key before you came?” Logically, buying and selling a house always involves a viewing. Damien couldn’t possibly not know that. Chloe sighed with a bitter smile: “I asked for the key, but he wouldn’t give it to me, and he’s never taken me there either.” She lowered her voice: “To be honest with you, this is where he lived with his ex-wife when he started out, and honestly, it just gives me the creeps, so I really want to sell it fast.” I said “Oh.” “In that case, I don’t need to see the house. Let’s just sign the contract.” Chloe was overjoyed. Afraid I might change my mind, she immediately pulled out the sales agreement. However, she didn’t have the property deed, so the transfer couldn’t happen immediately. We still had to wait for Damien. Sitting idly, bored. Looking at this other System Host, just like me. I curiously probed: “How did you two get together?” Actually, I wanted to know how she managed to win Damien over. The System had told me. After I left that world, Damien briefly spiraled into a secondary dark phase. He slit his wrists, attempted suicide, and his darkness level became so extreme it threatened the very stability of this world. Chloe came into his life at that time. She not only reduced his darkness level but completely replaced me in his heart. Damien wasn’t an easy person to win over. She must have gone through a lot. Yet Chloe said with a beaming smile: “He had just been abandoned by his ex-wife then and was completely disheartened. I kept comforting him, and we confirmed our relationship not long after.” It was that simple? I could barely believe it. Again, a flood of mocking comments appeared before me: “Hahaha, the ex-wife must be so triggered, right? Damien just has no resistance to our girl!” “Don’t forget the ex-wife spent ten whole years trying to win him over, throwing herself at him countless times before he finally, reluctantly, got with her.” “Chloe just talked to him a bit, and all the ex-wife’s years of effort went to waste. That’s the power of true love!” … I silently read the sarcastic remarks. They were right. My process of winning Damien over had indeed been incredibly difficult. So difficult that I never wanted to go through it again. 4. Damien’s parents didn’t love him. At a young age, they abandoned him at a psychiatric institution, leaving him at the mercy of abusive staff and relentless bullying. The patients confined there were lunatics and violent maniacs; the entire institution was like a prison, heavily guarded. So, even with the System’s help. When I rescued him from the psychiatric institution, I almost lost half my life. I brought Damien to an unfamiliar city. I wanted him to study, to lead a normal, decent life. I even arranged expensive psychological counseling for him every week. I did all of this because I wanted him to completely trust me. But Damien was too smart. He easily saw through the truth of this world, including my identity and purpose. After high school, Damien became the top student in the state. I happily celebrated with him. But he subtly pulled my arm, his expression cold, with a hint of self-mockery that was hard to detect. “You’re doing all this for me because you want to win me over, right?” After the initial shock. I sighed, choked up, and said: “I like you. That’s my purpose.” Damien snorted lightly, clearly not believing me. I felt a little nervous, but still rested my head on his chest, muttering softly: “Damien, don’t dwell on all those trivial things. These past few years have been so hard for me; you need to make my life easier soon.” “I truly like you. Please don’t question me like this anymore; it really hurts.” … After college graduation, Damien started his own business. We moved into that small, old apartment. There was no heating in the winter. I’ve always been sensitive to the cold, and my feet would get stiff and ache. Every night, Damien would rub my feet, silently, his eyes red with concern. By that time, we were already married. His life’s ambition shifted from founding a tech company to, well, destroying the world, to the rather mundane goal of just making enough money to buy his wife a house. We hustled during the day and nestled together on that small bed at night. When I was trying to secure investments, one CEO made things incredibly difficult for me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Damien, so I just walked the streets alone, crying. And when faced with deliberate retaliation from competitors, I firmly shielded Damien, protecting him, while I ended up in the operating room myself. I can’t even count how many times I went through things like that. That’s how long it took for Damien to slowly, finally, fall in love with me. Compared to my ten-year effort to win him over. Chloe only took three short weeks. To reduce Damien’s darkness level to negative one hundred. And raise his affection level to one hundred percent. 6. Chloe was still telling me about the sweet details of her relationship with Damien. She said Damien fell in love with her at first sight. I suppressed a pang of sadness and took a sip of my milkshake. “Did he… ever mention his ex-wife to you?” Chloe thought for a moment, then smiled triumphantly: “Never. He must have moved on from her long ago.” I nodded. I hoped so. I didn’t want to genuinely sabotage their relationship either. When Damien arrived, I’d pretend to be regretful, throwing myself at him. Knowing his personality, he’d probably be disgusted and avoid me at all costs, right? Once he rejected me, I’d take my fifty grand and happily leave this world. As I was planning this, Chloe suddenly got a call and told me excitedly: “My boyfriend just finished his meeting and is coming to pick me up now. We’re going on a date, so let’s talk about the house tomorrow.” I froze for a second, forcing a smile and nodding: “Then I’ll just go…” Chloe affectionately took my arm: “Where do you live? I’ll have my boyfriend drop you off.” My smile froze. Chloe was so enthusiastic. So much so that by the time I realized what was happening, the car door was already closed. A cool, crisp pine scent, like an expensive cologne, slowly permeated the air. Beside me, Chloe’s voice was playful as she showed Damien her freshly done manicure. Damien was sitting in front of me. From my angle, I could see his distinct, bony fingers on the steering wheel. He focused intently on the road, yet responded to her every word. Watching the man’s striking features in the rearview mirror, I felt a momentary blur. Damien was never this patient with me. When we were together, he was always so insecure, afraid of losing me. Every night, he would wake up abruptly, frantically reaching for my side of the bed. I could only, tiredly, reassure him again and again: “I won’t leave you alone. I love you, and it has nothing to do with the mission.” I kept telling him that lie until the moment I left that world. Damien wept, clutching my hand, begging me not to go, begging me to stay a little longer, to spend a few more years with him. I sighed, refusing him every time. His face was pale, his eyes swirling with pain and madness: “Why? Don’t you love me? How can you bear to leave me? Didn’t you say you’d never leave me alone?” I gave a bitter smile: “I have my own love in the real world.” … Catching my gaze, Damien frowned and slowly lifted his eyes. Our eyes met. The car lurched forward violently—a sudden brake. I wasn’t prepared and hit my forehead hard against the window, leaving a red mark. “Sorry.” Damien’s voice sounded somewhat hoarse. He turned his head slightly: “We’re at your place.” I finally realized, said “Oh,” and thanked him. When I got in the car, Chloe had asked for my address, and I’d just randomly picked a neighborhood. I made plans to meet Chloe again and then got out of the car. Damien kept his eyes down, never looking back at me. He didn’t hesitate for a second; the car’s tail disappeared from sight in an instant. At the entrance of the bustling neighborhood. I slowly crouched down, hugging myself. Who knows how much more time passed. The familiar luxury car silently and forcefully pulled up in front of me. The car window slowly rolled down, revealing the sharply defined profile of a man. Damien just calmly looked at me: “Get in.” 7. I’d thought Damien would find a way to see me. But I never imagined it would be so soon. So fast that I hadn’t even had time to prepare myself to face him. During the standoff, Damien lit a cigarette. I frowned abruptly. I didn’t like Damien smoking. In the past, I would have snatched it away and stomped it out without a word. And back then, Damien was always obedient. If I said quit smoking, he wouldn’t touch another cigarette. He would never have acted like this. Staring at me unabashedly through the pale tendrils of smoke. I held back, just about to speak. The live comments once again flooded the screen: “Why is the ex-wife acting so demure? Does she seriously think Damien still has feelings for her?” “Damien already knows she’s back, but he didn’t want to make Chloe overthink, so he didn’t reveal her identity in the car.” “If it weren’t to warn her not to say anything stupid in front of Chloe, Damien wouldn’t bother meeting her alone.” I stood silently. It was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over me. That momentary impulse vanished without a trace. Now, I didn’t care about his status. The cool, pale hand resting on the car window dropped lazily. Damien pulled his eyes away, expressionless. Lost in thought, he put out the cigarette with a hint of sarcasm. “You wanted to buy the house, right? Get in, I’ll take you to see it.” 8. The drive was silent. Damien showed no inclination to speak. But the comments in my vision were a cacophony. “Good thing the ex-wife is smart enough to know the passenger seat is for the girlfriend. She voluntarily sat in the back.” “Damien’s supposed to be warning the ex-wife, so why is he taking her to their old house?” “Don’t worry, upstairs! Damien just doesn’t know the ex-wife’s little schemes yet. Once her true colors are exposed, he’ll hate her even more.” … At the door. I couldn’t help but ask: “Don’t you have anything… to ask me?” Damien’s hand, holding the key, paused. He looked down, raised an eyebrow, and quietly waited for me to continue. I gathered my courage: “Like why I came back, how long I’ll stay, or… what my purpose is in buying this house.” “Not interested.” Damien withdrew his gaze, his tone indifferent: “I don’t care who buys this place; I’ll erase everything associated with you. As for why you came back…” With his hands in his pockets, he seemed to let out a small, mocking laugh: “It wouldn’t be to win me over again, would it?” I was silent for a second: “What if it is?” 9. “You’re welcome to try.” Damien raised his hand and pushed the door open. *Creak*. Everything inside the room was once again clearly laid out before me. A shaft of slanted light, dust motes dancing. Damien stood behind me and to my left, his clothes brushing against my sleeve. He didn’t speak, nor did I. In the silence, it felt like we were back in an ordinary afternoon after we got married. We were returning home from the grocery store. His fingers were laden with plastic bags full of all my favorite foods and snacks. We laughed and joked all the way. When the door closed. I jumped onto him, wrapping my arms around his neck, giggling as I sought his lips. Damien leaned back helplessly. Until his back was pressed against the door, he held my waist and kissed me back, gently. … My wrist was suddenly seized. My body stiffened. Damien quickly let go, his expression returning to normal: “Take a look. Selling it to you is fine; it saves me the trouble of cleaning the place.” I nodded, casually walked around, and came back: “No problem. I’ve already arranged with Chloe to transfer the deed tomorrow. Just give her the property deed, you don’t need to show up.” “Alright.” Damien agreed readily. His tone paused for a second, then he said with slow, mocking sarcasm: “You don’t need to be so guarded with me. If I could, I’d wish to never see you again.” “This private meeting with you is because I was afraid you’d say something stupid in front of Chloe,” he raised an eyebrow at me, “I don’t want her to be unhappy, do you understand?” I took a quiet, deep breath: “I won’t mention our relationship to Chloe.” “Good.” Silence again. With things said to this extent. I knew, of course, that I should discreetly leave. But for those fifty thousand dollars. I still spoke, my voice a little choked: “Damien, I was wrong back then. I shouldn’t have abandoned you and left.” A ripple appeared in Damien’s dark, deep eyes. He眯ed his eyes, staring at me, seemingly lost in thought: “Go on.” “I came back this time because I wanted to make it up to you, and I realized I still like you. Can you…” I nervously looked at him: “Consider me… just one more time?” 9. The room fell into a dead silence. As soon as I finished speaking, my vision was practically drowned in an overwhelming flood of mocking comments. I closed my eyes in shame. My face was burning, hot with embarrassment. After a long moment. Someone in the room let out a low chuckle: “What? Did your husband in the real world finally die, and now you’re coming back to your eternal backup?” I snapped my head up, my eye twitching for a moment. My lips trembled slightly with anger. All of this registered in Damien’s dark eyes. He raised an eyebrow: “My apologies, didn’t you notice? I have my own love now.” His tone was light and dismissive. Yet, those dark pupils were fixed intently on me. My eyes felt a little dry; I blinked hard: “I know.” Damien seemed to smile faintly, or perhaps there was no emotion at all. Finally, he just left, pushing the door open, leaving me with his retreating back. “YES! God knows how long I’ve waited for this moment!” “Hahahaha, the boomerang finally came back to hit the ex-wife!” “The ex-wife should just leave the System already. Even if she saves Damien a hundred more times, he’ll never love her again.” “But Damien still went soft on her, leaving the house key so she wouldn’t be homeless… Wait, what’s under the key?” I stiffened slightly, looking at the table covered with a clear tablecloth. Damien had indeed left the apartment key behind before he left. Under the old, yellowish key, there was a red booklet. “OMG! Am I seeing things? It’s the property deed!” “Why would Damien leave the property deed to the ex-wife?! Shouldn’t such an important document be given to Chloe?!” I tremblingly opened the property deed. Suddenly, the comments went silent. Only my name was written on the property deed. 10. I suddenly remembered. When we bought this apartment, Damien handled all the paperwork. I knew I would eventually leave, and to avoid future complications, I specifically instructed him to only put my name on it. I didn’t expect him to only listen halfway. He did indeed only write one name, but that person was me. So this was my apartment all along; there was no need for me to buy it. The comments became lively again: “I get it! Damien must not want the ex-wife to meet Chloe again, so he pulled this trick.” “Makes sense. Damien is now a billionaire, a self-made tech mogul. A house worth a few hundred thousand is nothing to him; it’s less than a single piece of jewelry for Chloe!” “Ah, I’m dying of sweetness! Damien’s love for Chloe is so obvious! They’ve been together for over a year, and he still can’t bear to even touch her hand…” I gave a self-deprecating laugh. So that was it. I called out to the System: “I failed to win him over. Can I go back to my original world now?” The System slowly typed out a question mark: “You’re too perfunctory, aren’t you? You think a simple confession is enough to make him fall in love with you again? Where’s the relentless drive you used to have to win him over?” I sighed: “I did my best. So, what would constitute ‘not perfunctory’?” The System was silent for a moment: “You actively kiss the male lead.” “What?” I was startled. “If the male lead pushes you away, we’ll consider it a failed attempt to win him over. You can exit the world and receive fifty thousand.” “If he doesn’t push you away…” The System paused: “Then you’ll have to stay in this world, until you win him over again.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “298787”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic

At my 28th birthday party, Julian publicly carried Serena, who had fallen into the pool, back to her room. Everyone thought I’d just swallow the insult and stay silent. Instead, I trashed the banquet hall and demanded a divorce. Julian turned to look at me, a smirk on his face, utterly despicable. “Are you sure about this? There’s no turning back with me.” I nodded. “I know.” Three years after I left, I went to pick up my doctor boyfriend from work. But I bumped into Julian, holding an adorable little girl, consulting Asher about her condition. The moment our eyes met, he gave a cold sneer, pointed at me, and said to the little girl: “Looking for your mom? That’s her.” The hallway was bustling with people, the clinic door already closed by the patient who’d just entered. Julian’s long strides stopped right in front of me. His chiseled face was as cold and rigid as I remembered. His impeccably tailored suit outlined his perfectly proportioned, model-like physique. And the little girl in his arms, wearing a couture princess dress, was absolutely adorable. She clung to Julian’s neck, timidly eyeing me up and down. “What, don’t recognize your own child?” Julian’s thin lips curved, but no warmth reached his eyes. “Right, you haven’t seen her in years. How could you possibly recognize her?” I stiffened, a bitter feeling instantly flooding my heart. Back then, to get the divorce finalized quickly, I asked for nothing, not even the baby, who was still in diapers. Everyone called me heartless. Even my own parents thought so. The first time I brought up divorce, my mom specifically called me home. “You’re getting divorced, why didn’t you take the child? She’s your own flesh and blood, how could you be so cruel?” Seeing me look down and stay silent, she grew frantic: “Once you divorce, your stepsister will marry Julian before long. Are you just going to let her be your daughter’s stepmom?” I clenched my icy fingers. Turns out, in her heart, this marriage had always belonged to Serena. And I was nothing more than a temporary occupant, a stranger. But Serena wasn’t my biological sister. Fate played a cruel trick on us; she and I were swapped at birth. When I was finally brought home, the arranged marriage with Julian fell to me. Serena was forced to separate from Julian. In a fit of anger, she moved abroad and stopped contacting the family. I don’t know how they convinced Julian, but he eventually agreed to marry me. For two years, we maintained a civil, almost cordial relationship, relatively harmonious. But everyone knew Julian was still looking for Serena.

The day I received news about Serena was my due date. I woke up in pain in the middle of the night, instinctively reaching for Julian, only to find him on the balcony, talking on the phone. He was coaxing someone on the other end, his voice soft and tender: “I’ll come get you myself. Don’t worry, no one will dare say anything… Okay, I’m leaving now.” The moment he turned, our eyes met. I spoke calmly. “My stomach hurts a little. Can you take me to the hospital first?” He paused briefly, then continued walking out. “I’ll have the driver take you.” As he neared the door, I called out to him again. Julian’s gaze wasn’t warm. “Something else?” The tightening sensation in my abdomen made my voice tremble: “Julian,” I said, “if you walk out that door today, we’re done.” Julian’s expression instantly darkened. “What are you trying to pull now?” “Scarlett, I’m just going to pick her up. Why are you so dramatic?” He paused, then added, “Don’t forget, this marriage was originally hers, you snatched it.” His words hit me like a bucket of ice water. Two years of marriage, and while Julian didn’t necessarily love me, he never mistreated me. It even made me believe he had moved on from Serena and wanted to build a life with me. But now, I realized it was all just an illusion. My abdomen tightened again, forcing me to bend over and gasp for air. Serena’s cold voice came from Julian’s phone: “If she doesn’t want me here, I’ll buy a ticket and go back right now.” Julian’s face tightened. He spun around and hurried out. “Don’t be difficult, I’ll be there in a minute… Serena, don’t you dare leave…” As he spoke, he was already out the door. The door opened and closed, shutting away all his dominance and favoritism. I leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, trying to ease the pain. But the pain didn’t subside; instead, my stomach felt a heavy pull. Then, a warm liquid trickled down my thighs. Panicked, I dialed Julian’s number. The moment I spoke, I heard Julian’s chilling voice: “How long are you going to keep this up?” I said, my voice trembling, “I’m bleeding, the baby…” “Enough!” he cut me off sharply, scoffing, “I thought you were different from them. I didn’t expect you to use such low-class tactics.” “Whatever it is, we’ll talk when I get back.” With that, he hung up. Decisive and ruthless. Before we got married, my adoptive parents had told me, “If you don’t want to marry him, then don’t. Your mom and dad will support you for life.” Back then, I thought that with family interests binding us, Julian wouldn’t be so cruel. Later, I learned you can’t expect someone who never intended to love you seriously to put you first. The idea of divorce started then.

That day, an ambulance came for me. Lying on the operating table, clinging to life, I remembered many things. I remembered when we first got married, Julian and I had a sweet period. He’d take me to see the ocean at dawn, and we’d kiss when he was tipsy. Every evening and late night after we got our marriage license, he’d make love to me. My friends would say enviously, “Your husband really spoils you.” But that lasted only six months. The day I noticed something was off, I overheard him talking to his friend. His friend asked him, “Are you flaunting your affection like this to force Serena back? Looks like it’s not working.” Julian leaned against the railing, a faint, mocking smile playing on his lips: “Then let’s see how long she can endure.” “But your wife is pretty great in every way. No feelings for her?” Julian took a sip of his drink and chuckled dismissively. “It’s all for appearances, nothing I ever truly felt.” The indifference in his eyes stung me terribly, every single day after that. I tried the silent treatment with him. He was such a perceptive man; he’d always notice my unhappiness immediately and coax me in a low voice. As he coaxed me, I started coaxing myself. He couldn’t let go of Serena, he was just unwilling to admit it. If possible, he could pretend to be good to me for a lifetime, and I could play along. I didn’t know then that time is never the cure; reunion is. The operation was reaching its critical point; the medical staff’s movements suddenly became frantic. As my consciousness gradually blurred, I remembered something else. After my marriage to Julian was set, Serena went on a hunger strike and eventually fainted from low blood sugar. On that rainy night, Julian rushed her into the emergency room, cradling her. His white shirt was soaked through, but he didn’t seem to notice, only gripping her hand, calling out “Serena” again and again. I followed behind, holding the payment slip, watching him tremble as he pulled out fruit candies from his pocket, carefully peeled the wrapper, and slipped one into her pale lips. I stood by the IV stand, watching as he bent over, revealing the back of his neck, where sweat and rainwater mingled and dripped. That day, he was also sweating cold from a stomachache. But because Serena couldn’t be left alone, he gritted his teeth and stayed in the emergency room all night. And I, suffering from placental abruption and clinging to life, couldn’t even get him on the phone. Love is one thing, but if it requires too much humility, I don’t want it. Perhaps heaven had pity on me; in the end, I narrowly survived. It was five days later when I came out of the ICU. Before I even saw Julian, I heard news of him from my nurse. Turns out, while I was on the operating table, fighting for my life, he was throwing a lavish welcome party for Serena. He even arranged a spectacular fireworks display for her. Under the dazzling fireworks, the two exchanged glances, their expressions deep and restrained. In this marriage, I forgave many unforgivable things, thinking it would lead to happiness. Later, I discovered he had already predetermined our ending. No matter what I did, happiness was impossible. So, the first thing I did after being discharged was tell him I wanted a divorce. He was silent for a long time. “Don’t overthink this. Just focus on recovering.” He thought I was making this decision due to postpartum hormones. It wasn’t until three months later, at my birthday party, that I brought up divorce again. He was holding a soaking wet Serena, walking towards a room. Hearing my words, he turned back to look at me, his smile utterly despicable: “Are you sure about this? There’s no turning back with me.” I nodded calmly. “Okay.”

“Julian, my little Lily~” Serena’s voice pulled me back to the present. She was wearing elaborate makeup and high heels, stopping beside Julian. “What did the doctor say?” “Surgery is scheduled for next month.” Serena breathed a sigh of relief, smiling. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to get an appointment with Dr. Asher! Now our little Lily will have…” She suddenly paused, as if just noticing me, and exclaimed in surprise: “Scarlett?” Before I could speak, she continued, “Did you come back because you knew Lily was sick? Well, you are Lily’s birth mother, after all.” After she spoke, I heard Julian say coldly, “Birth mother? Does she even deserve that title?” I froze, instinctively looking at the child in his arms. But I saw in her eyes a look of disappointment and sadness that I dared not face. In that moment, my chest felt like a handful of shattered glass had been kneaded into it, the dense, throbbing pain instantly spreading to my limbs. Julian had initially agreed to let me take the child. But he changed his mind. I questioned why he went back on his word. The man lounged on the sofa, his long legs casually stretched out: “Serena is afraid of ruining her figure and doesn’t want to have children.” I was furious. “That’s *my* child!” “She’s my child too. Don’t worry, Serena will treat her like her own.” I disagreed, but he used all sorts of tactics to pressure me. No matter what he said, I wouldn’t budge. Finally, he looked at me with cold eyes. “Scarlett, don’t forget how your adoptive parents got their jobs.” At that moment, I suddenly understood that I had no power to fight against him. During the standoff, Serena tugged on Julian’s sleeve, trying to smooth things over: “How about we all have dinner together? We can catch up. Julian, what do you say?” Julian glanced at me, his eyes indifferent. “I don’t make a habit of catching up with ex-wives.” He turned and strode away. Serena chased him for a few steps, then turned back. “You’re not back to snatch Lily from me, are you?” “No. I’m back to get married.” She gasped briefly. “You’re getting married?” Her shock was understandable. Julian and I had been divorced for two years, and they still hadn’t registered their marriage or held a wedding. And I was once again ahead of her. But she unusually breathed a sigh of relief. “Congratulations! Have you set a date?” “The eighth of next month.” She hesitated for a moment, then asked, “You haven’t told our parents about this, have you? Why don’t you ask for their opinion?” “We’ll see.” However, that evening, I received a call from my parents, asking me to come home. The moment I walked in, Brenda’s face was drawn as she demanded: “Why are you back? Didn’t you act so tough when you left, saying you’d never return?” “And who are you marrying? What’s his family like? Does he know you’ve been married and have a child?”

I once thought home was a safe harbor. But all the storms I’d weathered over the years were brought by this very home. Parents usually wish their children well, but my biological parents were experts at rubbing salt in my wounds. Though I already knew they disliked me, hearing those words, I couldn’t help but feel my eyes redden, a suffocating pain pressing down on me. Seeing me silent, Serena quickly pulled Brenda away, but her words were directed at me: “Scarlett, just say something. Mom’s just looking out for you. If he doesn’t know, you should tell him soon.” I curled my lips, my voice laced with sarcasm: “Don’t compare him to you all. You don’t deserve it.” As I spoke, my parents simultaneously yelled: “What are you saying?” “Say that again!” At the same time, Julian’s voice echoed: “What’s going on?” Following the sound, I saw Julian standing at the stair landing, holding Lily’s hand. Serena went up to him, naturally took Lily’s hand, and said to Julian: “Julian, Scarlett is getting married.” Julian’s voice was as indifferent as ever. “Oh, congratulations.” Serena: “That’s what I said too, congratulations on finding true love. By the way, Scarlett, why didn’t you bring your boyfriend back today?” “Dinner isn’t necessary, he’s very busy.” I placed our wedding invitation on the coffee table. “Here’s our invitation. Whether you come or not is up to you.” “And please, don’t call me back unless it’s really necessary.” As I turned to leave, my eyes met Lily’s. I paused. She moved her lips, as if saying, “Mommy.” I clenched my hand, and after tens of seconds of inner struggle, I expressionlessly shifted my gaze and walked away.

While waiting for Asher White at the apartment complex entrance, a car slowly pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Julian’s sharp, cold face. “Get in.” I politely refused. “No, thank you. My boyfriend is coming to pick me up.” He let out a soft laugh. “Scarlett, didn’t you do some research?” I was puzzled. “Research what?” “Bigamy is illegal.” “We’re already divorced.” “Are we?” He casually tapped the steering wheel with his long, slender fingers, speaking lazily, “What if I never signed the papers?” I could barely believe my ears. “What did you say?” He answered evasively, “Get in the car.” I didn’t move, trying to calmly talk to him. “Why didn’t you sign?” Julian rested one hand on the car window, looking relaxed and defiant. “Want to know? Then get in.” They say some people’s love is only a fraction, yet they pretend it’s overflowing to make you fall. Julian was one of those people. Even though we were divorced, he still acted like a victim. “Julian,” I said, fixing my gaze on him, “you’re not still hung up on me, are you?” At my words, a flicker of astonishment crossed his deep dark eyes, quickly vanishing. It was replaced by sarcasm. “Do you deserve that?” “Oh? Then why haven’t you married Serena yet?” He smiled faintly, his eyes devoid of warmth. “Not playing innocent anymore?” I was taken aback. “What?” “You’ve been asking around about when Serena and I are getting married. Wasn’t that because you wanted to get back together with me?” I didn’t deny it. Recently, I had indeed been inquiring about him and Serena. But not for the reason he suggested. I wasn’t looking to reconcile; I was coming back to fight for Lily’s custody. Because not long ago, I received an anonymous email containing a recording of a conversation between Serena and my biological mother. Serena said: “Mom, Scarlett is already getting remarried. Why hasn’t Julian married me yet? Do you think he doesn’t love me anymore?” My biological mother replied: “If he doesn’t love you, who would he love? You just overthink things.” Serena: “For the past three years, he’s been so focused on the child; he hasn’t spent much time with me.” “You’re silly, why don’t you use some tactics? If all else fails, just have his son, and he won’t even look at that girl again.” “But I said I didn’t want to have children…” “Wasn’t that just a lie to prevent Julian and Scarlett from having lingering ties? Just listen to me, have a son for him as soon as possible, and secure your position through your child.” Serena was swayed and remarked, “Mommy is so good to me. Back then, I thought that once Scarlett came back, you would all favor her.” “Don’t overthink it. There’s a difference between your biological child and the one you raised yourself…” The recording ended there. That night, I stayed awake until dawn. Finally, I made a decision. I was going to get my child back. Before returning, I had planned everything. The one thing I hadn’t expected was that Julian hadn’t signed the divorce papers. “You have one minute to think about it.” Julian cut off my thoughts. I lowered my gaze to him. “What exactly do you want?” He still didn’t answer directly. “Lily wants to go to the amusement park. I’m busy tomorrow; you take her.” The refusal died on my lips. Julian’s cunning eyes were sharp and perceptive; nothing could be hidden from him. “Tomorrow morning at nine. Don’t disappoint her.”

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When they told me I was the real heiress, I was already 45. Married, with three kids. The day I was supposed to return, before seeing my elderly biological parents, I overheard a conversation between my biological younger brother and the fake heiress: “Why bother bringing her and those mutts back? She’s been out there for decades; who knows what she’s become, what kind of man she married, or what kind of no-good degenerates her kids are?” “You’re the only sister I’ve ever known…” Mutts? No-good degenerates? Were they talking about my son, a celebrity who’s been a household name since he was 20? Or my twin daughters, who enrolled in an elite university’s accelerated program in their early teens? I was 45 when the police department informed me that my biological parents had finally found me. I stood there stunned for a long time after hearing the news. I found out I wasn’t their biological child when I was 20. My adoptive parents said they found me as a newborn, just a few days old. They initially tried to find my family, so my information was always in a DNA database. But after years with no news, they legally adopted me. Now, decades later, I was told I was born into a prominent family. How could a wealthy family abandon their child? There had to be some hidden secret I didn’t know about. My husband was currently on a business trip abroad, and my son was busy with his national concert tour. So, it was my two daughters who specifically took time off from school to accompany me to meet my blood relatives. “Mom!” “Mom, mom, mom…” My 15-year-old girls chattered excitedly. Soon after we met, all I heard were repeated calls of “Mom.” It was quite a twist of fate. When my son was four, Julian and I discussed having a second child, preferably a boy and a girl, but two boys would also be fine. When I got pregnant and went for a check-up, it turned out to be twins. I spent my entire pregnancy on edge, terrified I’d end up a mom to three boys – it felt like the equivalent of raising three wild wolves at home. Thankfully, they were two girls. Just as rambunctious, though. But adorable. Raising three healthy, beautiful children took a lot of effort, but at least they all turned out successful. When Caleb was little, his celebrity aunt took him to a film set. A director spotted him and cast him in a child role, and since then, acting offers kept pouring in. Julian and I saw that our son loved it, so we let him pursue it. After all, it’s good to develop in every aspect. Later, he picked up other talents; now he’s a triple threat: singing, dancing, and acting. As for his two younger sisters, they’re like Julian and me—smart. That kind of intelligence clearly superior to other kids their age. They skipped grades from a young age and are now both in an elite university’s accelerated program. “Ms. Hayes, please step into the car.” It was a chauffeur sent by my biological parents, and the car was a luxury model. Chloe and Maya were used to riding in similarly priced cars, but they still excitedly looked around, chattering away. “Mom,” Chloe poked me, “you’re going to meet your biological parents. I heard they’re really rich. Aren’t you excited?” “…” Just their childlike enthusiasm. They’d been studying for ages and finally got a chance to go out. They were treating the Maxwell family visit more like a fun trip to an acquaintance’s home. But from an adult perspective, if they really cared, they wouldn’t have just sent a chauffeur.

Julian, my husband, messaged me, asking if I’d arrived at the Maxwell estate. He also sent over some information about the family. Along with several pictures of designer handbags. He asked which ones I didn’t like, so he wouldn’t bring those back as gifts from his trip. Neither of us was taking this “reunion” very seriously. Of course, if this had happened when I was in my early twenties, I probably would have been more emotionally volatile. But I was 45. My adoptive parents raised me from infancy until their deaths, never waiting for anyone to claim me. I already fully belonged to one family and had built my own. The pursuit of my original family had dwindled in importance over the years. We arrived at the Maxwell family mansion. My two daughters and I got out of the car. Mr. Jenkins, the family’s butler, came to greet us. He looked at me with a hint of surprise but didn’t say much. “Miss Seraphina, please allow me to show you the way.” The way he addressed me was… telling. Clearly, someone else had been called “Miss Eleanor” for over forty years, making me the “Miss Seraphina.” Even more intriguing, the butler led us not to the main hall, but to what appeared to be a side parlor in the mansion. Before we even got close, we heard voices. “I have no idea why Dad and Mom insisted on bringing her and those mutts back. She’s been out there for decades; who knows what she’s become, what kind of man she married, or what kind of no-good degenerates her kids are?” “You’re the only sister I need, Eleanor. If this gets out, who knows what people will say about the Maxwells…” Mr. Jenkins cleared his throat. The conversation inside abruptly stopped. I was ushered forward, officially meeting the relatives I shared blood with. There were three people in front of me. My 40-year-old biological younger brother, Aaron Maxwell. I’d seen his picture before, and now, seeing him in person, he certainly had the polished, sharp look of someone groomed for wealth and power, a true product of an elite family. Next to him was Eleanor Maxwell, the fake heiress who had taken my place. She was elegant, like most society ladies. The young woman sitting beside Eleanor was likely her daughter, in her early twenties. Eleanor Maxwell – that was the name I was supposed to have. It wasn’t a bad name. But I felt no connection to it. The mix-up between us wasn’t her fault, of course, but her biological mother’s. Apparently, Evelyn Maxwell’s friend from decades ago, when Evelyn was happily married and pregnant with her first daughter, suffered a reversal of fortune. Her partner left her, and she found herself pregnant. Driven by a desperate desire to ensure her child would remain among the elite, she gave birth. It was also a girl. I don’t know the specifics of how the babies were swapped, but she took me and, instead of raising me, abandoned me. Back then, abandoning a female infant was tragically easy. But even with the truth now revealed, it changed nothing. Forty-five years, more than half a lifetime, had passed. Eleanor Maxwell’s biological mother had emigrated years ago and passed away a few years prior. Their scrutinizing gazes fell on me and my two daughters. I clearly saw the shock in all three of their eyes. They hadn’t bothered to learn much about me, naturally assuming that a mediocre middle-aged woman would show up today. Even as family, after decades of being “out there,” they expected me to be ordinary, vulgar, or perhaps bitter and resentful. But I wasn’t. I was very content with myself.

“Excuse me, are Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell not here?” I asked calmly amidst their silent appraisal. More than my siblings, I wanted to see my biological parents. Though the brother and sister had stopped their conversation, they didn’t seem to care whether I’d heard it. That deep-seated arrogance, I’d witnessed it many times before. Back when I was younger, just starting my career. By now, very few people dared to look at me or my children with such disdain. “Mom and Dad aren’t feeling well; they’re still at the sanatorium today, but they should be on their way back,” my biological younger brother said. He looked at me and finally introduced himself. “I’m Aaron Maxwell, your biological younger brother.” He then introduced the others: “This is my sister, Eleanor Maxwell, and this is her only daughter, Isabelle Thorne.” The scene was eerily awkward. After about two seconds of tense silence, Eleanor was the first to act. She stood up, walked over, and took my hand, speaking earnestly: “Sister, you’ve suffered all these years.” My gaze fell on her well-manicured hand, adorned with a dazzling, massive diamond ring. In contrast, the wedding band on my left ring finger had no pavé diamonds, looking pathetically plain. I hadn’t suffered, not really. It was just thinking about the truth behind my background that left a bitter taste in my mouth, a deep sense of unease. “Izzy, these are your aunt and cousins. Say hello,” I heard the woman holding my hand tell her daughter. Then, the equally polished and impeccably dressed young lady reluctantly said, “Aunt.” Her eyes weren’t even looking at me. Her arrogance surpassed her mother’s. It was simple: her mother was the fake heiress, but *she* wasn’t. The Maxwells were undoubtedly one of the wealthiest families in the area, and Eleanor Maxwell’s husband naturally came from a family of equal standing. Aaron, my brother, now held a position of power within the Maxwell corporation. He said: “We’ll host a welcome dinner for you tonight. Mr. Jenkins will show you to your rooms to rest soon.” He kept me in the side parlor for a few extra minutes, though. My biological younger brother told me, “No matter what happened in the past, it’s over now. My sister is a victim too. If Dad and Mom hadn’t had everyone in the family tested on a whim this year, we would never have known about this.” He explained that after discovering the daughter they’d raised for years wasn’t their biological child, my parents immediately reported it to the authorities. Because my information had been in the DNA database all along, they were able to contact me quickly. The search process wasn’t difficult at all; in fact, it was surprisingly simple. Compared to other families who had lost children. “My sister has been with us since birth. She’s always been a Maxwell, not to mention she’s Mrs. Thorne. The one who made the mistake was her biological mother, not her.” They clearly had a strong bond, these two siblings. I smiled at him and asked a question: “She’s a victim, but what exactly did she lose in these 45 years?” Aaron opened his mouth, but no words came out. “The one who was abandoned and nearly died was me.” I only said that much, but it was far from the whole truth. She had enjoyed a life of luxury that rightfully belonged to someone else, claimed my family, and in doing so, received an excellent education and an enviable marriage. Forty-five years of usurpation – how long is a person’s life, really? And how many people don’t even live past 45? Had I endured a life of hardship and instability, this 45-year-delayed truth would undoubtedly have been a double torment, both mentally and physically. Could my good fortune somehow cancel out the harm done to me?

I met my biological parents in the evening. The moment I saw them, I understood why Aaron and Eleanor had looked so startled when they first saw me. I looked very much like my biological mother, Evelyn Maxwell. I could even see my own reflection, twenty years in the future, on Evelyn’s face. “Seraphina, my daughter.” She tremblingly touched my face, and she and my biological father looked me over. The sheer resemblance was enough to confirm our relationship. This scene was quite emotional; even though I didn’t care much, a pang of sadness still welled up inside me. They were curious about my past, especially Evelyn. Her face, even with fine lines etched on it, held an unnamed hope. A hope that her culpable friend had given me up for adoption to a good family. “My adoptive parents found me in a remote suburb. I was close to dying then,” I said calmly. The faces of those around us shifted. Clearly, Eleanor Maxwell’s biological mother hadn’t intended for me to survive and cause trouble for her biological daughter. At this moment, Eleanor and her daughter weren’t present. I briefly talked about my life over the years. Nothing particularly noteworthy—adopted, went to school, worked, married, had children, all in due course. From their perspective, it was a relatively ordinary life. “Seraphina, I know you’ve suffered out there, but this matter isn’t suitable for public knowledge. We don’t want outsiders making our family a laughingstock.” Richard Maxwell, my biological father, spoke. “Although Eleanor isn’t your mother’s or my biological child, she’s been our daughter for decades. She’s also Mrs. Thorne now, and her biological mother has passed away. If this gets out, it will affect both families.” He paused, then continued, “We’ll tell everyone we took you in as our goddaughter because of fate. We’ll bring your children back too. How about your mother and I compensate you in other ways?” Before I could react, my older daughter, Chloe, spoke up: “If you weren’t planning on acknowledging my mom, then why bother finding her in the first place?” Her tone was not good. The two girls had been whispering to each other all afternoon, clearly dissatisfied with the family’s attitude. Aaron Maxwell’s voice cut in: “Who said you could interrupt when your elders are speaking? Where are your manners?” He looked down on my daughters. In other words, he looked down on me. It was rare for my two girls to have their manners questioned. Maya also spoke up for her sister: “You’re not being fair, and we can’t say anything? My mom is the victim, but you’re protecting the daughter of the one who harmed her.” “Seraphina Hayes, is this how you raise your daughters?” Aaron’s face flushed with anger, and he stood up, glaring at me. I looked at him calmly: “My daughters have excellent manners. They don’t stay silent when their mother is being bullied. And you? By what right do you presume to lecture my daughters? As their uncle?” “I was never raised by my biological parents,” I looked at Evelyn and Richard. “And my daughters have never received any care from you. Even as guests here today, we certainly don’t deserve to be criticized and lectured by someone using their ‘elder’ status, do we?” One sentence turned the faces of the three of them white, then red.

“Aaron, apologize to your sister!” Richard Maxwell glared at his son. Over forty and being told by his own father to apologize to someone else, this heir to a prominent family seemed to lose face. “What did I say wrong? All of this is someone else’s fault! Aren’t we victims here?” Aaron said coldly, “If she’s so full of resentment, why even come back?” Why come back? Good question. I didn’t bother with whether Aaron would apologize or not. Instead, I looked at my so-called parents and asked very seriously, “What kind of compensation were you referring to earlier?” Upon hearing this, Aaron revealed a “just as I expected” expression, and the contempt in his eyes reappeared. My elderly but distinguished parents, however, remained relatively calm. Evelyn took out two cards. “Seraphina, this card has five million dollars, which you can use as you wish. The other is my supplementary card; you can use it for your daily expenses. Also, if you’re willing, you can move back into the house, or we can arrange a place for you.” Five million, a supplementary card, a house. For an average working-class family, this might indeed be a sincere offer of compensation. But from Aaron’s expression, it was clear he didn’t think much of these offerings. Five million was less than the luxury car that brought me here. Not to mention, it paled in comparison to the money they had spent on their other two children. They didn’t see a hint of joy on my face, nor the expected reaction on my twin daughters’ faces. I smiled. “I thought compensation, at the very least, should be comparable to what your other children received. Like company shares, for example.” Aaron immediately became agitated. “Seraphina Hayes, don’t be so greedy! You just got back and you’re already demanding shares?” “Isn’t this what I should rightfully receive?” I retorted, “I heard Eleanor also has 5%. Shouldn’t I have at least as much as her?” “Dad, Mom, you see? I told you! She only came back for the Maxwells’ money!” I found it amusing. “If you don’t care about money, why are you so agitated?” “You—” According to what I’d gathered, the Maxwell Group was still largely under Richard Maxwell’s control; he hadn’t fully transferred his shares and equity to his son. Eleanor was never the elders’ preferred heir. Although she held a position in the Maxwell Group, it was mostly honorary. Everyone assumed the succession would primarily fall to Aaron. My recognition as a biological daughter meant one more person to divide things among. Eleanor had no standing to object, but Aaron did. Clearly, when it came to their own interests, no one could sit still. “Enough,” Richard Maxwell finally spoke. “Seraphina, take these for now. The other things can’t be sorted out immediately. Let’s just have the welcome dinner for you and the children first.” It was his way of ending the discussion. He didn’t say yes, nor did he say no, dangling a carrot to keep us intrigued. The Maxwell family’s welcome dinner was merely a family affair. As they had said, they didn’t intend to make my identity public, nor would they publicly reveal Eleanor’s true identity. As people age, the reunion with their biological child brings a certain sentimentality. Moreover, the appearance of my daughters and me wasn’t exactly embarrassing. But wanting both their biological daughter and grandchildren close, *and* wanting peace and prosperity for the family? Such a perfect scenario was impossible.

I scanned the people present. Besides my biological parents, there was Aaron Maxwell and his family of three – his wife and middle-school-aged son – as well as Eleanor Maxwell’s family of three. Her husband, Robert Thorne, the head of the Thorne family, was also there. The rest were just me and my two daughters. They weren’t shy at all. Even in this environment, where they clearly weren’t entirely welcome, they were perfectly at ease. This was due to their personalities and their upbringing. The Maxwell family chose to protect Eleanor’s identity, partly for their reputation and partly because they had to consider the Thorne family, their in-laws of over twenty years. Even though Eleanor and Robert were both in their forties, their intertwined interests ran deep, and they had a daughter together. Regardless of whether there was love when they married, social standing was certainly a factor. Announcing now that the wife of many years was a fake heiress would cause both families to lose face. So, considering their combined interests, they decided to slight me, the daughter they’d just found and with whom they had no real emotional bond. At 45, no matter how emotional one might be, it’s hard to be as naive as in youth, to blindly believe in “blood ties” or “family.” It was hard to develop deep feelings for them. They probably just couldn’t fool me anymore. The dinner table was interesting, a lavish feast. A ridiculous semblance of peace was maintained, under the guise of a happy occasion. It was essentially a group of middle-aged people trying to appease two elderly ones. Aaron and his wife, Vivian, were clearly unwelcoming. Their son, Sam, and Eleanor’s daughter, Izzy, were good friends, sitting together in a clear alliance. As for Eleanor’s identity, it seemed less critical now. Even she was confident that her situation wouldn’t worsen just because she wasn’t a biological Maxwell. So, they didn’t pay much mind to me, the “real heiress.” “Seraphina, I heard you also have a husband and a son. Where are they? For such an important reunion, why didn’t they come along?” It was Eleanor’s voice. I paused, noticing everyone else’s eyes on me. “They’re both busy with work right now and couldn’t spare the time,” I replied. “Work?” Vivian Maxwell, Aaron’s wife, exclaimed, “Eleanor, I heard your son is only 20. He’s already busy with work? Did he not even get a college degree?” “No, he didn’t,” I said, stating the truth. That kid was only in his second year of university. He was so busy with work that the leave he’d taken from school was so long, I worried he’d be asked to leave. I saw some of them exchange knowing, almost mocking smiles. “Well, there’s no need for a child to start working so young. Why not have him come back to the family company? We can arrange a position for him?” Eleanor’s daughter, Izzy Thorne, who had been quiet until now, spoke up: “Doesn’t Uncle Aaron’s company require at least a bachelor’s degree for most hires now?” “Not at all, there are some positions that don’t depend on academic qualifications,” Aaron and his niece chimed in, exchanging a glance at me. “I just don’t know if my ‘sister’ here would even consider those roles. If not, we can arrange something for your husband too.” I looked at Richard and Evelyn Maxwell, the heads of the family. They nominally scolded their children twice, but it was just lip service. “No, thank you,” I gave them a chilly smile. “They’re doing perfectly fine as they are.”

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My brother Gideon Edwards was killed in a car accident on his way to the mall to buy me, Natalia Edwards, the birthday gift I’d been longing for. His car plunged into the river, and his body was never found. Ever since then, every Christmas on my birthday, my parents would force me to kneel at Gideon’s grave and beg for forgiveness. Until my eighteenth birthday, when I was being stalked by a creep on my way home from work. In panic, I called my parents for help. My mother Maeve Edwards was furious on the other end of the line: “Stop making excuses to avoid it! You just don’t want to repent to Gideon! After all these years, how wonderful it would be if Gideon were still alive. Why wasn’t it you who died instead, you burden!” With that, she hung up without hesitation. In the end, I was brutally murdered, my body carelessly dumped in the city’s landfill. The police officer assigned to the case was my father Ezra Edwards, but even when faced with my mutilated remains, he couldn’t recognize me. Later, Gideon returned with his wife Phoebe Michell, whom he’d eloped with eight years ago. When they learned of my death, they all went insane. ***** On Wednesday, the city’s garbage was transported by trucks to the suburban landfill for disposal. This was how old lady Camille Watkins made her living. On lucky days, she could find plenty of cardboard boxes and bottles to exchange for money. But today, she hadn’t found many bottles. Instead, she discovered a black garbage bag filled with meat. Camille looked at the meat in the bag with delight, leaning in to smell it. No foul odor. The pork was clean and tender, with perfect marbling of fat and lean. Without thinking twice, she grabbed the bag and hurried home. Her family was so poor that she hadn’t eaten meat in nearly half a year. Camille lit the stove and boiled water, putting all the meat in the pot to blanch. She said excitedly, “I’m so lucky today.” Soon, an enticing aroma of meat filled the entire room. But just as she was ladling the meat from the pot, she noticed something oddly shaped in the basin. Camille’s eyesight wasn’t good. Squinting, she picked it up with a fork to examine it. The moment she saw what it was, she collapsed to the floor in shock. “Ahhhh!” A piercing scream tore through the sky. She scrambled and crawled out of her house. What lay steaming on the ground was a cooked human hand. That’s when I saw Ezra. On the third day after my death, I finally saw him again. I just never expected we’d reunite this way. He bent down to pick up the cooked remains, his expression grave. Ezra was a veteran police officer who had solved countless cases and upheld justice. But even so, faced with such a scene, he couldn’t help but change color. He gritted his teeth and cursed angrily: “What a monster! We’ll give this case everything we’ve got. We must get justice for the victim!” Hearing those resolute words, I felt momentarily dazed. I wondered: “If Dad knew this corpse belonged to the daughter he’d hated for ten years, would he still be so determined?” Soon, the coroner took my remains back to the police station. Unfortunately, the body parts had been cooked, making it impossible to extract viable DNA. The only things they could determine were that the corpse belonged to a teenage girl, and there was a scar on the palm of one of the hands. The forensics team identified that the scar had existed for many years, approximately ten years. Hearing this, Ezra’s colleague instinctively looked at him, frowning: “Ezra, I remember Natalia has a similar scar on her palm, and she just turned eighteen this year…” Ezra’s face instantly changed. “Impossible!” he blurted out. “How could that jinx be dead?” Hearing those words, my chest suddenly ached, and even my soul trembled. Memories kept alternating between ten years ago and yesterday. I seemed to hear that demon’s whisper in my ears again: “Your father killed my brother, so I wanted him to taste what it’s like to lose a daughter. Too bad, after I caught you, I realized your father doesn’t love you at all.” I shook my head desperately. No, my father does love me. It’s because I did something wrong that they hate me. It’s my fault. Before I turned ten, I had a happy family with a loving brother and devoted parents. They cherished me like a princess, holding me in the palm of their hands. But everything changed on my tenth birthday. Gideon was killed in a car accident on his way to buy me that birthday gift I’d been longing for. His car plunged into the river, and his body was never found. From that day on, my parents’ attitude toward me completely changed.

Every Christmas birthday, Mom and Dad would take me to Gideon’s grave. “Kneel down! Confess to your brother!” I knelt on the hard ground, kowtowing over and over until my forehead bled. Maeve stood beside me crying, cursing nonstop: “You’re the jinx who killed my son. Why don’t you just die!” This scene continued for ten whole years. My knees became disabled from excessive kneeling, and I could never dance again. On ordinary days, the atmosphere at home was suffocatingly oppressive. During meals, Mom and Dad would place Gideon’s portrait next to me, then put all the food in front of it. If I so much as glanced at that food, Ezra would slam his fork on the table and glare at me: “How dare you even think about eating? This is all for your brother. You don’t deserve it!” Maeve would chime in: “Exactly. You living is just a waste of food. You might as well die.” Maeve had actually tried to make that happen. She firmly believed I had killed Gideon, even fantasizing that if I died, Gideon would come back to life. So she deliberately locked me in my room without giving me even a drop of water. I starved for three whole days, dizzy and weak, pleading with them, only to receive cold stares and merciless mockery. “I think you’re just pretending. Some people can go five days without food. You’ve only been three days – how can you not endure it?” Finally, I was so hungry I couldn’t stand it anymore and actually bit my own hand. Ezra was startled when he saw my bloody, mangled arm and finally let me out. That day, the way Mom and Dad looked at me changed. “You really are a jinx. Not only did you kill your brother, you won’t even spare yourself!” I wanted to explain that I was just too hungry. But they wouldn’t listen at all. They called my teacher directly, saying I had always had self-harm tendencies and was mentally unhealthy, asking the teacher to keep an eye on me. Just as they wished, news that I was “mentally ill” spread quickly. My classmates began bullying me relentlessly. When I walked by, they would deliberately stick out their feet to trip me, watching me fall pathetically to the ground as they burst into laughter. At the time, I didn’t know all of this was deliberately spread by Mom and Dad. I foolishly ran to them crying about being bullied. Their reaction was unusually cold. “Look at you, embarrassing us outside, and you still have the nerve to come back?” Ezra’s scolding never stopped. “How did I give birth to such a useless thing? You killed your brother – you should go to hell!” Maeve wasn’t to be outdone. I lived through such painful days for ten whole years. The scar on my palm was left from that time. The first year after Gideon died, Maeve suffered from hysteria because she missed him so much. She even chased me with a knife, saying she wanted my life for his. I was lucky – my palm was sliced through, but I didn’t die after all. Just then, Ezra’s phone rang. It was Maeve calling. Maeve asked: “Are you coming home for dinner today?” Ezra said: “No, there’s a case here. A teenage girl was murdered. Sigh, what a shame – a perfectly good girl chopped into pieces.” Hearing this, Maeve sighed and comforted him: “It’s okay, don’t worry too much. You’ll definitely catch the killer.” Thinking of something, she suddenly spoke with an angry tone: “By the way, Natalia ran out to play and still hasn’t come back.” Hearing this, my soul seemed to tremble. I thought: “So Mom still remembers me?”

Three days ago, while dusting Gideon’s portrait, I accidentally knocked over the frame. Maeve rushed over and slapped me across the face, then began punching and kicking me. I couldn’t take it anymore and broke down crying. “Mom! Why are you treating me like this? I’m heartbroken about Gideon’s death too, but I’m also your daughter. Can’t you be a little kinder to me?” But I’ll never forget the expression on Maeve’s face that day. She looked at me as if I were something utterly repulsive to her. She said, “Do you deserve it? “What murderer has the right to ask for forgiveness? “You think you’re having a hard time? Have you ever thought about Gideon, who you killed with your own hands? “If I could, I wish I’d only ever had Gideon as my son!” I staggered backward and fled through the door. I knew my parents hated me. I just never expected that in their hearts, I truly had no place at all. I felt utterly devastated. But now, Maeve had actually brought me up. Had she sensed something? Did she still care about me after all? However, when Maeve asked her question, Ezra just sneered coldly: “If she’s got any backbone, she’ll never come back. Better if she dies out there.” I smiled bitterly, thinking to myself: “There I go again, reading too much into things. Of course—I killed Gideon. How could I expect them to love me like before? But Dad, Mom, I really am already dead out there.” Due to the brutal and shocking nature of the case, police launched a massive search, hoping to find my other missing body parts. Soon, they discovered bags filled with body parts scattered throughout various corners of the city. Unfortunately, the remaining pieces had already decomposed into rotting flesh, providing no useful clues. Ezra rubbed his head and said, “For a body to be chopped up this badly, could the killer have had a grudge against the victim? Could this be a revenge killing?” Typically, killers dismember bodies to make disposal easier. But to this extent was completely unnecessary. I stared at those chunks of rotting flesh, and my soul suddenly felt excruciating pain. When he cut my body apart piece by piece, I was still alive. In the end, I bled out completely—I died from the sheer agony. But my father had answered my call for help. That night, when I noticed someone following me, I dialed his number. He picked up, but all that came out was scolding: “Natalia, haven’t you lied enough? How many more lies are you going to make up to get our attention?” His voice was frighteningly cold: “If you want to die, just hurry up and do it. Stop bothering me!” So later, I really did die. That evening, when Ezra came home, Maeve had already prepared dinner—a table full of seafood, with crabs and shrimp. She peeled two shrimp for Ezra, then placed two more on Gideon’s plate. While wiping the sauce from her hands, she complained: “Natalia’s really gotten bold—she won’t even answer when I call her. She used to complain that we didn’t love her, and now that I’ve bought such expensive seafood, she’s off somewhere and won’t come home!” Watching Maeve’s disgusted expression, I felt somewhat sad. How long would it take her to remember that it was Gideon who loved seafood, not me? Once, Maeve had peeled shrimp for me, and I said I didn’t want to eat it. She pointed at my nose and cursed me out. I ended up eating it anyway, and had such a severe allergic reaction I could barely breathe. She said dismissively: “You’re just having an allergic reaction. You won’t die. Gideon came to me in a dream last night saying he wanted the latest gaming console. Let’s hurry to the mall before it closes.” I thought at the time: “No! Dad, Mom, don’t leave me behind! I don’t want to die—save me!” The living room door slammed shut with a bang, and I was completely abandoned. I thought desperately: “Fine, maybe if I die, it won’t hurt so much anymore.” I curled up in the corner.   I didn’t die that day. At the critical moment, I jumped out the window and was rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment. The doctor said it was fortunate I was brought in time—a few minutes later, and I probably wouldn’t have made it. A woman sitting beside her daughter’s bed was peeling an orange while saying to me, “Thank goodness you’re okay. Otherwise, your parents would be so worried.” I watched enviously as she fed the orange segments to her daughter, piece by piece. Reflected in the glass window was my lonely figure. I comforted myself, mimicking Christian’s way of announcing to everyone, laughing loudly as I said, “Yes, my mom and dad love me very, very much.” Just then, the hospital room door was suddenly pushed open. Ezra and Maeve rushed toward me. My heart filled with grievance. Fighting through the pain, I struggled to sit up, tears falling to the floor one by one. “Dad, Mom…” I thought to myself: “I was so scared, really scared of dying like that. Could you hold me? Just once, just once would be enough.” But Maeve suddenly grabbed my collar, yanked me from the hospital bed, and threw me to the floor. The IV needle was torn out, blood spraying everywhere. She cursed, “You little bitch! Stop playing the victim! You deliberately ate something you’re allergic to, then jumped off a building to make a scene for everyone to see. Are you trying to make the whole world think your dad and I mistreat you, to ruin our reputation? Why didn’t you just jump to your death!” I curled up, covering my head as my body was kicked and beaten repeatedly. I never meant to harm them. I just didn’t want to die. I had gambled on the height of the third floor and won, but I lost the bet on their hatred for me. I saw Ezra’s reflection in the glass, leaning against the wall, coldly watching as Maeve clawed at me with her nails. I also saw the woman in the next bed holding her frightened daughter, gently comforting her. The onlookers at the door looked at me with contempt and disdain, as if Christian were saying what a vicious child I was. The fantasy of “Mom and Dad love me” that I had barely mustered the courage to build was completely shattered in front of everyone. I had lied to them. My parents didn’t love me—they loved me least of all. After that, they cut off my living expenses, and I could only apply to live at school. Every day I ate free vegetable soup and slept in a sixteen-person dormitory on a thin mattress. My room and board depended entirely on the scholarships I desperately fought for each semester. As I progressed through middle school and high school, the boarding fees kept increasing. I could only study day and night, just to score a few more points and keep my scholarship to survive. I always believed that if I became excellent enough, someday Ezra and Maeve would love me again. But when I came home with nearly perfect test scores and relatives praised me, Maeve coldly retorted with a sneer, “She’s dumb as rocks. How could she possibly score that well?” Then a sharp slap landed on my face. “Tell me, did you cheat on the test?” My face burned with pain, but my heart hurt even more. I wanted to disappear immediately. Later, when the teacher called to confirm my grades, Maeve just glanced at the torn test paper in the trash and said with disgust, “You only scored that much—what’s there to brag about? Your brother always got perfect scores at Christmas, unlike you with no promise. How embarrassing!” Along with the test paper, my heart was also torn to pieces. Ezra and Maeve liked children like Gideon, so I tried desperately to erase myself and become like Gideon. I studied even harder. Through the changing seasons, the harsh study environment continued to torment me. After graduating high school, I finally had a chance to prove I was an excellent child like Gideon. I thought: “Dad, Mom, you’ll start loving me now, won’t you?” But I died the night before the results were announced. Even in death, I never became the child loved by my parents, like Gideon. I watched as Ezra and Maeve filled Gideon’s bowl with food. This scene had repeated day after day for eight years. Wasn’t it Gideon, who died because of me, who had turned Ezra and Maeve into what they are now? I thought perhaps I deserved to die too. A knock came at the door, and a familiar voice called out: “Dad, Mom, open up! I brought my wife home!” I saw the usually cautious Ezra jump up in panic, knocking over a plate. The usually quick-moving Maeve collapsed in her chair, tears streaming uncontrollably as she asked Ezra over and over: “Is it him? Is it him?” Ezra walked to the door almost helplessly, gripping the handle for a long time before finally turning it. The door slowly opened, revealing the tall man outside. I saw him—my older brother Gideon, whom I had killed eight years ago.

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I’m a world-class cardiac surgeon. To help me save patients more efficiently, the U.S. government gave me a special vehicle with the license plate “1111.” This car is exclusively for my use. Whenever this special vehicle hits the road, the traffic system clears the path and creates corridors for me, providing full escort with green lights all the way to ensure smooth passage. After receiving the car, I kept it at my fiancé Jayden Thomas’s house, letting him maintain the vehicle for me. Until one day, I received an urgent mission to perform a heart transplant on a leader who held critical state secrets. I immediately rushed to the Thomas mansion to get the car. As I was preparing to leave, a strange woman yanked open the car door and slid into the back seat. She said rudely, “Drive me to the mall for a manicure first, then go pick up the ice cream Jayden ordered for me. If that ice cream melts even a little, I’ll kill you.” Thinking she had mistaken me for someone else, I said gently, “This is my car. I have an emergency and need to get to the airport. Please get out of the car immediately.” She cursed, “Bullshit! How dare a driver pretend to be the owner? Open your eyes and look at the license plate!” At that moment, the nearby maid Alice Reed looked at me sideways and said, “You’re in the wrong here. Everyone in the city knows Mr. Thomas loves taking Miss Cox out for rides in this car. Nobody dares to mess with them.” I was stunned. Jayden actually dared to use this special vehicle to take her out for fun? This was extremely serious. ***** Using this special vehicle without my permission was equivalent to misappropriating U.S. government property. This offense alone carried a minimum sentence of three years in prison. Not to mention that Jayden was secretly using my car to take another woman for joyrides behind my back. This would add another charge to his existing offense. If the Thomas family knew how to read the situation and had Jayden properly apologize to me, considering he was my fiancé, I might still plead with the government for leniency. But… I looked at the woman arrogantly occupying the back seat. This “Miss Cox” who came out of nowhere had committed too serious an offense to be salvaged. She refused to get out, and I had no mood to continue arguing with her. I simply looked away, started the car immediately, and prepared to head to the airport. Saving lives was the priority. As for this mess, I’d have Jayden come explain everything to me personally after I completed my mission. After starting the car, I gripped the steering wheel, ready to leave. “Are you insane?” the woman screamed. She lunged forward from the back seat, frantically grabbing at my steering wheel. “How dare you drive without my permission?” The car instantly lost control, heading straight for the wall. Just as the car was about to hit the wall, I regained control of the steering wheel. I slammed on the brakes while jerking the wheel hard. The car swerved, crashed into a flower bed, and stalled. Still shaken from the scare, I blurted out, “Are you crazy?” “You’re the one messing with my car.” She rolled her eyes and said, “If you ever do something like this again, I’ll chop off your hands. Bitch!” I didn’t want to deal with her and immediately got out to check the dented hood. Fortunately, the car’s driving functions were all normal. Just as I was about to get back in, the Thomas family bodyguards rushed over and pushed me away. Under the woman’s smug gaze, the bodyguards took over the driver’s seat. “After offending Miss Cox, you still dare to run?” one bodyguard snarled viciously. “Watch out or we’ll skin you alive today!” I hadn’t expected the Thomas family bodyguards to be so obedient to her like dogs. I looked at Alice, who was coldly watching the drama unfold, and asked, “Who is she?” “You don’t know Miss Cox?” Alice looked at me like I was a joke. “She’s Mr. Thomas’s most beloved intern assistant, Layla Cox.” I laughed bitterly. She was just an intern assistant, yet she dared to flaunt her power and bully others here. I felt the Thomas family’s management was terrible. “I’ll ask Jayden myself.” I pulled out my phone helplessly. Layla immediately tensed up, staring at me intently. Since Layla was spoiled by Jayden, I wanted to see how he’d handle this. The phone rang for a long time before being answered. “Jayden, you’ve already committed a crime against public safety by using my car for joyrides without permission,” I said directly. “Now, have your intern assistant and bodyguards get out of my car immediately so they don’t interfere with my mission. After this is over, I might still put in a good word for you so you won’t have to go to prison.” There was a long silence on the other end. He chuckled coldly and said, “Josephine, what right do you have to make me wrong Layla for your sake? You want to compete with her for the car? Are you worthy?” Josephine Brown is my name. I was instantly stunned. Originally, the Thomas family had begged me to marry Jayden to repay me for saving their lives. They said Jayden was handsome with a great physique and would wholeheartedly take care of me. At the time, I was focused entirely on my work. After seeing Jayden’s photos, I was satisfied and immediately agreed to the engagement. I never expected he would side with Layla. Didn’t he know that if he couldn’t marry me, the Thomas family would go bankrupt? It was only because of me that the government was willing to give the Thomas family so many premium contracts.

Jayden was being completely unreasonable. “You’d better think about the consequences,” I warned him, suppressing my anger. “If you delay me, Sir Thomas’s heart transplant surgery will be too late.” Tonight, I had already scheduled to perform heart transplant surgery on Jayden’s grandfather, William Thomas. But if I couldn’t successfully save the leader and get back in time, William would just have to wait in the ICU. Every minute he waited meant more danger. “Enough!” Jayden cut me off harshly. “Don’t think I don’t know you’ve been lying all along!” “I’ve done my research. The first heart surgery you did on my grandfather was just a minor procedure that any doctor could perform.” He sneered. “You lied to my grandfather, claiming only you could make the surgery successful, just so you could use this opportunity to become part of the Thomas family, didn’t you?” “Well, you succeeded.” Jayden continued through gritted teeth. “I won’t break off our engagement, but I’ll never let you touch my grandfather again.” My heart lurched. My instincts as a doctor made me try to stop him. “No. This heart transplant surgery really can only be done by me…” “You’re still pretending.” Jayden’s tone was casual, completely unconcerned. “Layla has already brought in a heart specialist from abroad. I’ve moved up the surgery time. You don’t need to worry about it anymore, Dr. Brown.” The surgery time had been moved up, and no one had bothered to notify me, the lead surgeon. If I didn’t have this mission to save the leader, I could rush back to the hospital immediately to stop them. But right now, I was on duty and couldn’t go back. “If something goes wrong with the surgery, can you take responsibility?” I asked angrily. In this world, there were countless people begging me to perform surgery on them. William was lucky to have gotten this precious surgical opportunity by chance. Otherwise, with his status, he wouldn’t even qualify to meet me. Since Jayden insisted on not letting me save William, I didn’t want to deal with it anymore. The person on the other end of the phone paused. Jayden probably hadn’t expected me to agree so readily. “Nothing could possibly go wrong,” he said angrily. “If something does go wrong, I’ll take full responsibility.” With that, he hung up. Seeing that Jayden wouldn’t help me, Alice, who had been waiting to watch me make a fool of myself, couldn’t help but mock me. “Now you regret it, don’t you?” She rolled her eyes. “Ms. Cox isn’t just an intern assistant. She’s only been at the company for a month, but Mr. Thomas has already brought her home and dotes on her day and night. Mr. Thomas even ordered everyone to call her Mrs. Thomas. None of us dare to mess with her. Who do you think you are?” I thought I’d misheard. Before I even became part of the Thomas family, they already had a “Mrs. Thomas”? “Don’t you all know that Mr. Thomas has a fiancée?” I couldn’t help asking. “Ha!” Alice said sarcastically. “Mr. Thomas has already said that once that stupid woman marries him, he’ll kick her out. He only wants Ms. Cox to be Mrs. Thomas.” Layla breathed a sigh of relief, looked at me smugly, and deliberately flashed the diamond ring on her ring finger to show off. I was so angry I laughed. The Thomas family was completely dishonest. If I had known Jayden was this kind of person, I never would have agreed to marry him. I glanced at the time and saw there were thirty minutes left before the plane took off. If I didn’t leave now, I really would be too late. “I’m warning you one last time,” I said seriously. “You can’t handle the consequences of delaying my work. If you come to your senses now and give me the car, I can still put in a good word for you, forgive your mistake, and not punish you.” Layla’s eyes widened. “A driver’s Christmas bonus couldn’t even buy one of my shoes,” she mocked. “Even if I beat you to death, I can afford to pay for your worthless life.” I didn’t have time to argue with her. Seeing her hogging the car, I decided to go outside and hail a taxi. I could coordinate everything else on the way and try to get to the airport within thirty minutes. Just as I was about to reach the door, a tremendous force suddenly kicked me in the stomach, and my phone instantly flew out of my hand. I was completely unprepared and got kicked to the ground. The organs in my stomach felt like they were being crushed. A metallic taste surged up my throat, and then I coughed up a mouthful of blood. Layla sauntered over and pressed her high heel against my face. She said, “How dare you try to leave without apologizing to me?”

The excruciating pain left me unable to move. Layla aimed the sharp tip of her stiletto heel directly at my eye. One forceful stomp and my eyeball would burst instantly. Jayden’s bodyguards gripped baseball bats, surrounding her while glaring at me menacingly. There was no way I could take on this many people. “I’m sorry, Miss Cox.” To save my life, I struggled to apologize. “I really do have patients who need treatment. Please let me go.” A flicker of surprise crossed Layla’s eyes. She let out a cold laugh, then suddenly bent down and grabbed my hair, slamming my head against the ground with force. Layla said arrogantly, “You’re about to die and you still dare lie to me? “Is pretending to be a doctor fun? Even if you weren’t just a rideshare driver, even if you really were a doctor, I could easily kill you.” I struggled desperately, trying to protect my head with my hands. But Layla stomped down hard on my fingers. I screamed in agony, only able to tremble while repeatedly whispering “I’m sorry.” As a doctor, my hands were my most precious asset. If my hands were injured, I might never be able to perform delicate surgeries again. “Scared now?” Layla taunted. “Too late.” She pointed at my car and said, “You wanted to drive, didn’t you? I’ve thought of a more interesting game.” Layla signaled to the bodyguards, who immediately rushed forward and tied me to the rear of the car. I realized her intention, and my entire body began trembling violently. “I’ll die.” The fear of death made my breathing rapid. “You can’t do this.” Slap! A loud smack landed across my face. Then a stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills was thrown at me. “That’s twenty thousand dollars to buy your worthless life,” one bodyguard mocked. “Miss Cox once killed someone driving this car without a license and only paid ten thousand in compensation. You should feel satisfied.” The car engine started. I lay on the scorching asphalt, instantly dragged forward by the moving vehicle. Layla, behind the wheel, deliberately accelerated and took sharp turns. Only when she saw me thrown into a rose bush full of thorns did she laugh with satisfaction. My exposed skin was slashed with bloody cuts from the rose thorns. I was only wearing thin casual clothes. If this continued, I would surely die. Suddenly, the car stopped. Layla opened the driver’s door and jumped out. “I thought you’d be so scared you’d wet yourself,” she said, deliberately putting on a delicate act. “I’ve used this method to teach five people a lesson. You’re the most boring one.” I couldn’t argue with her. The bodyguards had already sealed my mouth completely with duct tape. Layla was satisfied with this. She jumped back into the car and started the engine again. She deliberately drove onto a dirt road. Fine grains of sand tore through my skin, burrowing deep into my flesh. My elbows and ankles had already been ground down to expose white bone. The excruciating pain began to blur my consciousness. I even hoped my heart would just stop beating so I could die immediately and suffer less. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, Layla suddenly slammed on the brakes.   “Jayden!” Layla ran excitedly toward the car. I struggled to lift my head, wanting to demand an explanation from my fiancé Jayden. But the person who got out of Jayden’s car wasn’t him—it was his secretary, Miles Cooper. Layla immediately put on a wronged expression. She said, “Someone really upset me today, and I couldn’t even get my nails done. Is he just sending you to brush me off? I don’t care—he has to come comfort me himself.” “Mr. Thomas is accompanying Sir Thomas through surgery and can’t leave,” Miles explained. “So what? The doctor I hired is a foreign expert—there’s no way the surgery could go wrong.” Layla pouted, saying dissatisfiedly, “He just won’t come be with me.” Miles frowned deeply. The moment our eyes met, his whole body shook—he clearly recognized me. He quickly walked to my side. Seeing me covered in blood and wounds all over my body, his eyes filled with shock. Miles said, “Mr. Thomas instructed me to take her to the hospital immediately.” He reached out to untie the ropes binding me. Barely clinging to life, I found this situation utterly ironic. William’s heart surgery must have gone wrong, and now they wanted to find me for help again. That surgery was extremely dangerous—no one but me could successfully complete it. “Her?” Layla looked at me in disbelief, her eyes full of jealousy. She said, “No wonder you dared break into the Thomas family villa. So you used being a designated driver as an excuse to provoke me! Tell me! How dare you seduce Jayden behind my back? You shameless woman!” Layla yanked away Miles’s hands as he was untying the ropes. She sneered, “You think you can take my place? “I’ve seen plenty of women like you! Jayden just plays around with you people. Once he’s had his fun, he always hands you over to me to deal with. “Even if I torture you to death, he’ll only praise me for doing well.” Consumed by jealousy, Layla ran back to the driver’s seat like a madwoman. The car roared to life. She floored the gas pedal, and the speed instantly shot up. Miles, who had tried to save me, was left far behind. In an instant, I felt the skin on my back being torn away along with my clothes by the asphalt. My wrists were also scraped raw, the wounds so deep you could see bone. “Ah!” Suddenly, Layla let out a scream. With a “bang,” the car stopped. Miles had rammed his car into hers to force her to stop. “Have you caused enough trouble?” Miles’s chest heaved, clearly furious. “Mr. Thomas said to take her away.” “Doesn’t he love me anymore?” Layla started crying, saying, “He’d rather be seduced by this low-class woman than come comfort me.” While she was crying and making a scene, I seized the opportunity and used my last breath to break free from the severed ropes. I lunged toward Miles and grabbed his phone. My hands were already mangled beyond recognition—I could never hold a scalpel again. There was no way I could complete the medical mission. Losing too much blood, I forced myself to stay conscious. Enduring excruciating pain, I used my hands with exposed finger bones to send a text to my superior in Washington: [I am incompetent and have failed the organization’s trust. I can only atone in the next life.]

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