Category: English

In the aftermath of my son’s birth, my breasts frequently swelled during the breastfeeding phase, intensifying my sexual desires. My husband was engrossed in work and couldn’t fulfill my needs, leading to escalating conflicts between us. In a bid to soothe his wounded pride, he accused me of postpartum syndrome, proposing a specialized therapy abroad to ease my symptoms. Upon our arrival, my husband escorted me to an exclusive physiotherapy clinic. To my surprise, my therapist was a strikingly handsome foreign man. In a moment of heightened emotion, he leaned close. His smile disarmed as he whispered, “Would you like to experience double happiness, madam?” He then proceeded to help me remove my disposable massage pants just as another handsome physiotherapist entered the room… I was a 26-year-old nursing mother. My name was Judy Johnson. After my maternity leave, I resumed my duties at the company, diligently expressing breast milk each day to store in the refrigerator, relying on my husband’s mother, Lily Johnson, to feed it to my son at the right times. Despite my efforts, my breasts would still swell painfully while at the office, forcing me to discreetly relieve the pressure in the bathroom. This predicament drew lewd stares from the single male colleagues, and their gazes made me profoundly uncomfortable. One day, after completing a report and delivering it to my supervisor, William Davis, for review and signature, he called me back. “Judy, your blouse has seen better days. Why don’t you head to the bathroom and freshen up?” With a gentle smile, William pointed to his chest to indicate a stain on my shirt. His kind reminder sent a flush of embarrassment through me. I hastily thanked him and retreated to the bathroom to clean up. Despite his unmarried status, William cut a striking figure, and his charm was not diminished by the fact that he had yet to reach his fortieth year. Yet, he possessed the unmistakable essence of manhood. Even his gentlest caution sent waves of embarrassment washing over me. Upon reaching the bathroom, I hastily grabbed a handful of tissues. With trembling hands, I wiped away the remnants of my disarray. Slipping into the fresh outfit I had brought along, I transformed not just my appearance but gathered my poise. Ready once more, I made my way back to William’s office. This time, standing before William, I felt an inexplicable awkwardness. His focus seemed solely on the report I had submitted. “Very well, no issues. Judy, keep up the good work,” he said. William grinned, signing off on the document. “Thanks!” As I expressed my gratitude and reached for the report, William sipped his coffee. He inquired, “Judy, the company is considering assigning me a new assistant next month. Would you be interested?” His words took me aback. I was aware his current assistant had resigned for personal reasons, but I hadn’t anticipated William would choose me as a replacement. The role didn’t demand exceptional qualifications, yet it offered double the salary and benefits of my current position, with a significantly higher year-end bonus. “Could I manage such a role?” I asked. My heart fluttered with unmistakable excitement. Indeed, such a chance was rare, and the allure was potent; what woman, particularly one who had embraced motherhood, could possibly resist this golden opportunity? “Of course, you’re more than capable.” William assured me with a smile, standing up and placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. His touch sent a jolt through me, prompting an instinctive step back. My heart raced. “But I’ve never been an assistant before. I’m afraid I might not be up to the task.” Despite my interest, I voiced my apprehension. “It’s quite simple, Judy. You’d just need to accompany me on the occasional business trip. Nothing more is required,” William answered. Sensing my concern, William moved closer without my notice. This time, he reached from behind, lightly touching my chin. His gesture, coupled with the suggestive look in his eyes, sent a shiver of fear through me.

“Mr. Davis, I…I need time to consider this,” I stammered. I was caught off guard and swiftly retreated, grabbing the report from the desk. Then I exited his office. In the corridor, I unexpectedly encountered William’s current assistant, Madelynn Smith. She had seen me emerge from William’s office and seemed to have overheard our conversation. With a glance to ensure we were alone, Madelynn pulled me aside and whispered, “Mr. Davis wants you as his assistant, doesn’t he? “But be warned, he’s quite perverse.” With that, she patted my shoulder and left, leaving me rooted in place. When I returned to my workstation, confusion clouded my thoughts. When the workday ended, I hurried home. Lily was in the kitchen, preparing dinner, while my son lay on the bed, wailing. I rushed to feed him and soothed him until he drifted off to sleep. As the clock neared eight, my husband, Jeremy Johnson, arrived. Over dinner, I broached the subject of becoming William’s assistant. After all, stepping into the role of an assistant would tether me to a demanding schedule. Overtime would spill into my evenings, and business trips would claim my weekends. The thought of not being able to return home for my son weighed heavily on my heart. Jeremy’s response was immediate and firm, “Mr. Davis? You mean William Davis? I’ve heard he’s a lecherous pervert. Aren’t you afraid he’ll harass you?” His words left me silent. I had never discussed William with Jeremy, yet Jeremy seemed to know of William. I had toyed with the notion of negotiating for a doubled salary or some such perk, but Jeremy dismissed the idea outright. He was firm, advising me to keep an eye out for new horizons and to switch companies when the moment was ripe. His stance was clear. Under no circumstances should I continue working in proximity to a man of William’s questionable character. With Jeremy’s disapproval, I let the matter rest. After dinner, I tended to our son and indulged in a hot bath before bed. I expected Jeremy to be waiting, but as soon as I slipped into bed, he turned off the lamp, murmuring, “It’s late. Let’s sleep.” I was taken aback. As I tried to snuggle closer, I found his back turned to me, a cold rebuff. This revelation plunged me into a well of dissatisfaction. Reflecting on the day’s earlier encounter, when William’s fingers had brushed against my chin, my lust was reignited. I immediately complained, “Jeremy, do you find me repulsive now? It’s been ages since we had sex. Don’t you desire me anymore?” “I’m just tired. I’m so tired lately,” Jeremy replied. His words immediately doused my ardor. I lay awake through the night. The next day, over lunch, I confided in my best friend, Sarah Blake. After listening, she paused and said, “Judy, could Jeremy be seeing someone else? What man could resist for so long?” Her words were a wake-up call. I pondered, “Could Jeremy really cheat on me?” I didn’t want to believe it, yet the thought gnawed at me. Seeing my distress, Sarah offered a mischievous smile, “If Jeremy won’t satisfy you, why not find someone else? We’re adults; can’t we enjoy ourselves?” “Absurd! I’m not that kind of person!” I interjected, appalled. Despite my turmoil, I remained committed to my values, unwilling to stray.

Two more days of anguish slipped by, with no thaw in the icy distance between Jeremy and me. He worked late, and I was often asleep by the time he returned. On that Thursday, as the workday neared its end, William informed me that a client was visiting and asked me to greet them. Yet, upon arriving at the restaurant, I found no client, only William, casually dressed and smiling in anticipation. “Mr. Davis, weren’t we supposed to meet a client?” I asked with a hint of irritation in my voice. “Judy, relax. Have a seat,” he replied smoothly. “I’ve heard about your recent troubles. The quarrels with your husband lead to your low spirits. How about this? I’ll add 5,000 dollars to your monthly pay, and you can spend weekends with me.” His proposal left me speechless. A whirlwind of confusion swirled within me. Sensing my hesitation, William rose with a smile and positioned himself behind me. His hands gently rested on my shoulders, and his face was inches from mine as he whispered slyly, “If you’re amenable, we could retire upstairs for a while.” As he spoke, his hand moved towards my chest. Panicked, I caught his wrist. In a twist of fate, this moment was witnessed by Jeremy. “Judy, what’s the meaning of this? Are you cheating on me?” Jeremy stormed over, cursing and shoving William to the ground. Fortunately, his two companions restrained him, averting further escalation. When we were back home, a tempestuous argument erupted. I poured out every detail to Jeremy, recounting the reasons for William’s offer. Overwhelmed by a surge of emotion, I found myself sobbing openly. The quarrel subsided, leaving Jeremy to realize the depth of his recent neglect and the injustices I had suffered. He acknowledged the possibility of postpartum syndrome and vowed to take me abroad for a restorative break. Swiftly, Jeremy booked us on a direct flight to Dovie Island for Saturday afternoon under the pretense of seeking postpartum therapy to alleviate my symptoms. I didn’t object, reasoning that a change of scenery might soothe my troubled mind. Upon our arrival in Dovie Island, we indulged in the local cuisine before Jeremy led me to an enigmatic therapy center that evening. The ambiance, including the enchanting lights and the subtle fragrance, instantly calmed and delighted me. “Good evening, Mrs. Johnson. I’m your personal physical therapist. May I begin?” To my surprise, no sooner had I settled onto the therapy couch than a strikingly handsome man with the classic features of foreign descent stepped into the room. His features were finely sculpted, and his accent carried the charm of imperfection. Moreover, his smile was disarmingly enchanting. His eyes, filled with allure, met mine, and I confessed, at that moment, I was utterly captivated. “Please don’t be shy, Mrs. Johnson. Your husband, Mr. Johnson, personally chose me for you,” he explained. Sensing my hesitation, he gently comforted me. As I relaxed, he continued with a smile, “Your husband is taking a stroll now. He’ll return for you in two hours.” I nodded, smiling. Why should I refuse what Jeremy had arranged? The young man’s massage technique was masterful. With every touch, I felt more at ease. Tension melted away. As he finished with my thighs and waist, he leaned close and whispered, “Would you like to experience our special service? It offers double happiness.” My face flushed at his words. Perhaps due to a trick of my hormones, I found myself nodding in agreement. With my silent consent, he smiled and began to remove my disposable massage shorts. At that moment, the door to the therapy room opened again, and another handsome foreign man entered, starting to disrobe.

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I was Amy Lane’s scapegoat, the friend who always took the fall. She wore hickeys on her neck like badges of honor, but when her mother, Cameron Diaz, asked about them, she laughed it off, claiming I was just messing around. While Amy and her boyfriend were out partying, she told everyone it was all for my birthday. When her grades slipped, she pointed fingers at me, insisting I was failing, too. And when Amy found out she was pregnant, she sobbed to Cameron, saying I had dragged her to a bar and slipped something into her drink. Cameron didn’t take kindly to that. She rallied a group of people and came after me, leaving me for dead. But then, I got a second chance at life. Now, Cameron was back at my door, looking like she was ready to throw down again. I couldn’t help but smile, “Yeah, it was me who kissed her, and it was me who drugged her! And you know what? My grades were pretty terrible too. That kid of hers? Who knows, it might just be a loser like her. Better off gone!” ***** Amy was all over her boyfriend, yet she had told Cameron she was spending my birthday at my place. The phone kept ringing. It was Cameron calling. A chill ran through me as Cameron’s voice came through loud and clear. “Felicity, you’re a high school student. Why are you pulling these stunts? Amy has classes tomorrow, and you’re making her stay at your place? “You two are students and should focus on your studies. Even if you’re not interested in learning, you shouldn’t be a distraction to Amy. Amy’s goal is to get into a good university. “And for heaven’s sake, if she’s at your place, at least keep her phone on! We’re worried sick as it is. How can you be so thoughtless?” As I listened to the endless stream of accusations and scorn, my anger simmered. In my past life, I was Amy’s scapegoat, the one her mother always blamed. I remembered a time I went to Amy’s house to drop off some homework. Cameron had seen the love bite on Amy’s neck and asked, “Is that a mosquito bite?” Without missing a beat, Cameron pointed at me and said, “Felicity did that while goofing around.” Cameron gave me a strange look, then told Amy to help in the kitchen, but she really scolded Amy for half an hour. I could hear their conversation from the living room. Most of it was meant to be heard by me, and I was so embarrassed I ran out of the house. Cameron suspected me of being lesbian and didn’t consider me a good student. She just wanted Amy to stay away from me. After that, I had little contact with Amy, but she kept using me as her fall guy. I ended up bearing the brunt of her lies. I ended up bearing the brunt of her lies. Now Cameron was calling again, and I knew without a doubt that Amy had been out with her troublemaker boyfriend again and was using me as her excuse. “Felicity, are you even listening? Have Amy answer the phone!” I snapped out of my thoughts and shouted, “Am…” The phone hit the floor with a thud, and Cameron’s voice grew frantic on the other end. “Felicity? Felicity? Are you there?” I picked up the phone and turned it off. I hummed as I grabbed my bathrobe and headed to the bathroom. Just as I finished drying my hair, there was a pounding at the door. Cameron burst in, followed closely by Amy’s father, Barry Lane. “Amy? Amy? Get out here, you brat!” Facing the aggressive woman, I clenched my fists and took a deep breath. Turning around with a forced smile, I asked, “Mrs. Lane, what brings you here?” “Felicity, what’s going on? Why did you hang up in the middle of our call? Where’s my Amy? Where are you hiding her? Get her out here now!” My eyes were blazing red with fury, and I couldn’t help but sneer, thinking, “How could I possibly hide her?” The truth was hard to keep under wraps. In my past life, Amy ended up pregnant. She sobbed to her mother, blaming me for tricking her into going to a bar and drugging her. Before the police could even start their investigation, her mother had hired people to beat me to death. The pain from that beating was something I could never forget. I had been set for a bright future with my dream university lined up, but Amy’s family had destroyed everything. How could I not harbor hatred?

“Mrs. Lane, how on earth did Amy end up at my place?” I knew that no matter how I tried to explain, it would be pointless. Just like in my past life, Cameron was convinced I had ruined Amy’s life, and she was ready to take her frustrations out on me with her fists. Now, she had made up her mind that I was the one encouraging Amy to stay out late, that I was the bad influence on her daughter. “Felicity, I’m giving you one last chance to hand over my daughter,” Cameron said, her voice dripping with menace. “Mrs. Lane, are you losing your marbles? I didn’t kidnap your daughter. What’s with the late-night drama at my house?” Before I could catch my breath, Amy’s dad, Barry, slapped me hard across the face. The force of it left me dazed, a buzzing echo ringing in my ears. He immediately pulled out a camera and started recording. “I don’t care whose daughter you’re; your dad’s not disciplining you. I’m here to set things straight. And what kind of teachers are we dealing with? Letting someone like you stay in school? I’m calling for your expulsion!” With a swift motion, he sent the video flying into the class group chat. The chat exploded with messages, everyone eager to know what was happening. It seemed Cameron had found her weapon against me, thrusting her phone into my face as she recorded. “This girl is nothing but trouble. My daughter, Amy, has always been a good kid. Felicity was shy and didn’t have many friends, which is why I encouraged Amy to befriend Felicity. But I had no idea she was hiding a heart full of malice, trying to lead my daughter astray! “Let’s not forget the facts. Now she’s encouraging my daughter to stay out all night, turning Amy’s phone off. As a parent, how am I supposed to feel? I’m worried sick about my girl!” Cameron was pleased with the reaction. The chat was flooded with support for her side. [Senior year is crucial; if she gets derailed now, it could ruin her future!] [Absolutely! If my daughter hung out with someone like that, I’d have a meltdown!] [Some parents really don’t take responsibility. Parents should keep a close eye on their kids; there are too many bad influences out there nowadays.] [Children are like delicate flowers, and if they’re getting poisoned, what a shame!] Maybe it was the crowd’s cheers that gave Barry the courage to jump into a group video call. Parents flooded in, eager to watch the spectacle unfold. “Her parents aren’t doing their job, so I’m stepping in,” Cameron declared, grabbing a feather duster from beside the TV. “If you don’t hand over my daughter right now, I won’t hold back!” He pointed the duster at me, his face twisted with rage, as if he wanted to tear me apart. Suddenly, Barry shifted the camera, focusing it on an antique vase in my living room. Someone in the chat recognized it. “Whoa, that vase looks like it’s got some history!” Barry, noticing the shift in attention, scoffed. “What does history matter? Look at how messed up their family is! Who knows how they even got their hands on that vase?” Barry was a construction foreman, used to barking orders at laborers, and he had that typical ‘big man on campus’ attitude. With a flick of his wrist, he smashed the vase, muttering, “Just doing my part to rid the world of scum.” The parents in the video erupted in cheers, finding it all incredibly satisfying. I stood by, watching as he got egged on by the crowd, smashing more of my things. In a moment of desperation, I tried to reason with them, saying, “Amy isn’t even here! You barged into my house and are destroying my property. I’ve already called the police!” Upon hearing that, the crowd fell silent, but a few fearless souls continued to watch the chaos unfold. Cameron, convinced I was hiding Amy, planted her hands on her hips, her arrogance unyielding. “Calling the cops? Good! Maybe they’ll lock you up, and my daughter can finally get back to her studies in peace!”

Most of the parents in the group chat were just there for the drama, ready to watch the chaos unfold. Suddenly, a woman’s voice cut through the noise. “My daughter just told me that this girl doesn’t even live at school! She’s being picked up in luxury cars every day!” That sent shockwaves through the chat, igniting a flurry of comments. I glanced at my phone and saw the name. Nancy Dona’s mom? Nancy was the class activities coordinator, the one who’d once asked me to dress up as a dog for a school event. I found that demeaning and refused, only for her to run to the teacher and report me for skipping out on activities. I’d rather write lines than crawl around like a dog! Nancy and her little clique often snickered at me behind my back, and whenever I got close, they’d burst into laughter and give me those weird looks. If Nancy and I weren’t on good terms, how could she possibly say anything nice to her mother about me? Barry grinned, showing all his teeth. “No wonder you live in a fancy apartment! You’re being spoiled by some sugar daddy! At your age, you should be focused on studying, but I’ll teach you a lesson!” With that, he grabbed a baseball bat from the cupboard and started swinging it around. Within minutes, my living room was a disaster zone, and the noise attracted neighbors who came to see what was going on. Cameron was shouting at the neighbors about how terrible I was, smashing my crystal cabinet with a vengeance. “Look at this! She’s a bad influence on my daughter! If I don’t teach her a lesson today, I’m not called Cameron!” I noticed the teachers were online but completely ignoring the mayhem, and my heart sank. In my past life, I had kept my distance from Amy, but because the teacher had some connection with her family, I was forced to tutor her and even sit next to her in class. That gave Amy countless opportunities to set me up. I managed a tight smile as I picked up my phone and tried calling the teacher. The phone rang endlessly without an answer. I sent him a barrage of desperate messages, but there was no response. After all, he was Amy’s uncle; why would he help me? Then, a lightbulb went off in my head. I decided to announce in the group chat that I was going to give away a big cash prize. Sure enough, it got everyone buzzing, and soon, Charles Quentin popped up in the chat. I quickly typed: [Mr. Quentin, please help me explain to Amy’s parents!] Charles responded almost immediately: [Felicity, you and Amy have always been close. Just tell her parents where she is, and they won’t give you a hard time.] The group erupted in agreement. [Who wants to argue with a young girl late at night? We’re all parents here; let’s put ourselves in her shoes. Just tell us where you’ve taken the kid.] [Exactly! Our kids are sheltered and wouldn’t know how to handle someone with a devious mind.] [Can we get her expelled? One bad apple spoils the bunch!] [Kids today are nothing like we were; when I was a kid, I had to help around the house. Nowadays, they’re pampered and just want shortcuts.] [Let’s not generalize; my kid is well-behaved. If I had a daughter like that, I’d cut ties immediately.] The situation escalated quickly, with parents taking screenshots and recording videos to post online, blaming someone for leading their children astray. The trending topic “Desperate Parents Searching for Their Children” went viral, and discussions about how “humans are inherently good, but poor choices in friends lead to trouble” shot to the top of social media.

Someone in the group chat said, “Hey, let’s go live! Amy’s dad, you should start a stream. If her parents aren’t going to keep an eye on her, we’ll use the internet to hold her accountable. This is getting juicy; we can’t let her keep messing with our kids!” Barry’s eyes lit up, a greedy glint shining through as he eagerly opened the live-streaming app. With his booming voice and righteous indignation, he quickly drew in viewers, the numbers climbing rapidly. The narrative shifted to me being a manipulative villain, a bully targeting innocent girls, and how I was supposedly being supported by some sugar daddy. The online crowd was all too eager to jump on the bandwagon, transforming snippets of hearsay and their limited knowledge into a crusade for justice. They were all too ready to hit that like button, thinking it might just make a difference. Before long, the stream hit the headlines, racking up over 100 thousand viewers. But I felt nothing. I thought to myself, “I’ve already died once. If I’m going to get my revenge, it’s got to be big. I’ve done nothing wrong. Why should I hide? Why should I feel guilty?” I had no regrets about my past; I just wanted to make my voice heard. [Look at this fancy apartment! This little girl is living large and probably being spoiled and rotten! Who knows how much her sugar daddy is giving her each month?] [Parents in our group have already shared that she’s always being picked up by some old guy in a luxury car. I even saw them hugging. So cozy!] [Our kids are so young! How can they resist such temptations? That’s how she’s leading them astray!] Most of the viewers were parents sharing their own stories about how their once-obedient children had turned rebellious after befriending the wrong crowd. One mom lamented: [My kid has gotten so lazy! All his classmates don’t do chores at home, and now he won’t even wash his own underwear!] Then there was the bizarre tale of another parent who had sent their child back to their hometown to live with the grandparents, claiming those kids in their hometown were sheltered and naive, which made their own child overly timid and hesitant. “Today, I’m going to teach this materialistic girl a lesson! Look at her, wasting her youth! Watch me smash her little golden nest!” Barry declared, and his enthusiasm fueled by the stream’s growing popularity. Cameron pinned me to the couch while Barry grinned ear to ear, clearly enjoying the flood of gifts and comments rolling in. He had completely forgotten about his own daughter, blinded by the attention. As I watched him swagger toward my art studio, which housed not only my practice pieces but also some genuine masterpieces, I panicked. “Don’t you dare smash that room! If you do, I won’t let you get away with it!” The more frantic I became, the more excited Barry looked, shooting me a provocative glance. “There’s got to be something juicy in that room! If you want me to kick the door down, just send a big gift!” The sound of notifications chimed incessantly from his phone, and he was practically salivating at the screen. Then, with a loud crash, he kicked the door open. “Now do you believe me, folks? I told you she’s no good! Look at these painting, so disgusting, filthy!” Barry shouted, revealing a mix of scenic landscapes and tasteful nude art. To them, it was all just “filthy.” I fought to keep my composure, desperate to make myself heard. “You’re not even here to find Amy! You’re vandalizing my home, and that’s considered intentional damage! These paintings are worth a lot, and if you ruin them, you’ll be paying for it for years!”

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To save my father, Sean Collins, who was suffering from leukemia, I had an abortion after five months of pregnancy and donated my bone marrow. However, I later discovered that my younger brother, Jack Collins, was also a compatible match. Everyone had been lying to me. Then, I was reborn, back to the day when I was supposed to donate my bone marrow.

When I was diagnosed with acute leukemia, my husband was on vacation with his mistress. He generously gifted his mistress a $2 million watch, but when I asked for $300,000 for treatment, he refused. On the phone, his voice was icy cold. “Alivia, just hearing your voice makes me sick. Do you understand?” “If you want to die, just go ahead. Once you’re gone, I can marry Sofia without the hassle of a divorce!” In that moment, my heart shattered…

Paige Recently, I found myself plagued by an intense itchiness in my most private area, accompanied by an unfamiliar discharge. It had me scared. Shockingly, online search results suggested it might have been due to frequent sexual activity or having multiple partners. But that didn’t make sense. I didn’t even have a boyfriend. The more I read, the more uneasy I felt. I couldn’t bring myself to confide in anyone as I was terrified of the judgmental stares. So, I snuck off to the hospital for a check-up. What I hadn’t anticipated was that my best friend’s brother, Cannon Roth would be the one to see me! Discreetly, I opened my phone, located my friend Allie’s chat, and meticulously compared the photo she had sent me. It confirmed my worst fear. Instantly, embarrassment flooded my cheeks. How could there be a male doctor in gynecology? And to make matters worse, it was Allie’s brother! I had only ever heard Allie mention that her brother was a doctor, but she had never specified gynecology. At that moment, I wanted to bolt. It was just too awkward. But before I could even turn, the door to the consultation room swung open. “Paige Johnson!” I instinctively let out a sound, feeling everyone’s gaze, including Cannon’s. I wished I could just disappear. But leaving then would have only made things worse. With a deep breath, I stepped into the consultation room. Thankfully, Cannon didn’t recognize me. Allie, Cannon, and I had been pretty much inseparable growing up, but after we’d moved on and left for college, I hadn’t kept in touch with him at all. After all these years, we don’t know each other anymore. Thinking this way, I felt a small sense of relief. I would just treat it like any other check-up with a stranger. Just as I began to feel a bit relieved, he dropped a bombshell. “Take off your skirt and lie on the bed,” Cannon said, eyeing my skirt. “I… I have to take off my skirt?” I was beyond shocked. What if he found out I was Allie’s friend? And what if Allie found out? How could I let Cannon do this kind of thing? But now I was caught in a dilemma. I couldn’t just say I was Allie’s friend and refuse his treatment. Then how would he see me in the future? Would he think I led a chaotic private life? And if he happened to develop negative feelings towards Allie in the process, my guilt would be even greater. “It’s just a routine check-up to rule out any potential underlying issues. Early detection leads to early treatment.” He paused for a moment. “In a doctor’s eyes, there’s only the patient, no distinction between genders,” he added, perhaps trying to ease my embarrassment and concern over his gender. At this point, I had run out of excuses to avoid the situation. So, I braced myself. After all, he didn’t know me, and I could pretend not to know him. Plus, what if my condition was serious? What if delaying treatment worsened it? Lying on the hospital bed, I closed my eyes. “Take off your skirt and your underwear.” His voice snapped me back to reality. My face flushed red, and I awkwardly complied, feeling like the whole world was watching. It was as if everyone knew, and my mind was in turmoil. Here I was, undressing in front of Allie’s brother. I wished I could disappear, wished nobody knew me. “Spread your legs.” Oh god! Was I going to expose myself like this to Cannon? Reluctantly, I complied and exposed my most intimate part. I felt mortified, and at that moment, I could sense the intrusion of something.

I felt like a cold instrument was prying open the most private part of me, a place never before seen by a man. The chill sent shivers down my spine. And then it hit me. I needed to pee! At that moment, I wished the ground would swallow me whole. I tried my best to hold it in, but Cannon gave me a reassuring pat. “Relax.” I trembled, almost losing control. Thankfully, Cannon’s examination was gentle. Unlike what I’d read online about doctors being rough, he was nothing like that. His touch was soft, gradually calming me down. But my mind couldn’t stop racing. What if Cannon found out my identity? What if Allie found out? Panic and an indescribable thrill consumed me. No one could be in a more awkward situation than I was at that moment. Unable to resist, I cautiously peeked through the gaps between my fingers, which were covering my eyes. I had to admit Allie’s brother had an excellent face. Even with a mask on, he still looked great. I had seen Cannon’s photos before. He looked handsome in pictures, but in person, he was even more striking, with a remarkable presence. He conducted the examination meticulously and earnestly, treating me like any other patient without a hint of impure thoughts. However, when his fingers entered for the examination, the stark contrast between their warmth and the coldness of the instrument sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t help but tremble, feeling my strength drain away. My body involuntarily squirmed, and his fingers seemed to stick to me like suction cups. It was a sensation I had never experienced before, leaving me feeling light-headed and almost weightless, as if I were floating, disconnected from my body. So, this was what it felt like between a man and a woman during lovemaking. And to think, he was Allie’s brother! My mind, as if a floodgate had been opened, began to entertain increasingly bold thoughts as his examination continued. What if Cannon and I…

My cheeks were burning, probably as red as a tomato. I could feel the heat radiating off them. Would he be more forward if he knew who I was? Would it be even more exhilarating? No one outside could fathom the unique relationship between me and the doctor inside. Suddenly, through the gaps between my fingers, I noticed stains on the blue disposable mattress. The discovery stunned me. I had wet myself in front of Cannon! How could I be so sensitive? I was here for a medical examination. Cannon was just doing his job. How could I react like this? This discovery sent me into a panic, making me feel like the world was slipping away from me. I wanted to get up, but Cannon’s hand gently pressed against my abdomen, the warmth of his palm draining my resistance. I lay back on the hospital bed, feeling too weak to even consider the implications of my relationship with Cannon or think about the future orAllie. All I wanted was for him to have something that could truly come inside, embrace me, melt me, and make us one. My mind went blank, and I didn’t even realize I was biting my lip, letting out soft moans. It was as if I was urging him, tempting him to take control, even if he was Cannon. All I could feel was the incredible comfort below my abdomen, tingling and soothing. It was like my soul had drifted away. I couldn’t believe how uninhibited I had become. Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I spotted Cannon holding a mirror, which he had somehow retrieved without me noticing, aimed at my private area. I saw my most intimate parts. It startled me, bringing me back to reality. And then, I realized that the source of my comfort was Cannon’s hand. The instrument had been removed without me noticing. His fingers were completely enveloped by the delicate folds of my flesh, giving me an overwhelming sense of fulfillment. As his fingers moved within me, it felt like they were touching my soul. All I could think about was pulling him close, merging our bodies. As I quivered, I couldn’t help but wonder what was Cannon planning. This was way beyond what a doctor should be doing. I had some vague suspicions, but I didn’t dare to dwell on them too much. He had been Allie’s brother, after all! Despite wanting to resist, my body kept responding to him. It was incredible how comforting this sensation could be. But in my haze, I noticed Michael’s white coat had disappeared, and he stood before me completely naked. His movements became rougher, and his eyes seemed bloodshot and excited like he wanted to consume me. Listening to his heavy breaths and deep voice, I trembled. Even though he was Allie’s brother, I couldn’t bring myself to care anymore. Suddenly, I felt a surge of rush . As long as I kept quiet, who would know? I looked up, my gaze soft. Suddenly, my legs instinctively wrapped around Cannon’s waist. He leaned in closer, locking eyes with me, his expression carrying a hint of an unreadable smile. “Paige, You’re soaked…”

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Margot“Daddy, please don’t do this.” My father ignores my pleas and shrugs off my hand, grimacing and brushing his sleeve as if my fingers have dirtied him. The one man in my life who is supposed to love and protect me no matter what has betrayed me. Again. My father pushes me out of the SUV’s open door. I fall to my knees on the dirt road in front of a huge warehouse. I glimpse the busted-out, cracked windows lined with brown paper bags. My heart pounds, and my vision swims. This can’t be happening. He yanks me to my feet. “Get the fuck up.” There’s nothing. No sign, no cars, no people. And no lights other than the full moon and a single red light above the door. His grip pushes the thin gold bracelet deep into my wrist. I’ve worn it for the past five years. Ever since I was thirteen—when I was supposed to get my dragon. It’s kept me from reaching her ever since. I don’t even know if I can, if I even have a dragon. I’ve read that some people born to dragon shifters never get their dragon because our genes aren’t strong enough anymore. “Please,” I whisper. “Why does it have to be me?” He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me close to speak into my ear. “Keep your mouth shut.” I already know the answer. It’s because I remind him too much of my mother. My stepmother and her daughters have taken any scraps of love my father might have had for me and used them all up. Just like they’ve used up all of his wealth. I’m not the one who’s put him in debt, but I’m the one he’s going to sell to get out of it. Dragons are supposed to be possessive, to protect and hoard their belongings. But it’s clear my father didn’t get that gene when it came to me. As soon as I turned eighteen, my father announced he was selling me. At the enormous metal door, he knocks. A small window slides open. “Name?” comes a male voice from inside. “Winston Brummel.” The window snaps shut, and the door opens toward us. My father yanks me in behind him. A skinny man with tattoos up his neck and slicked-back dark hair sits behind a podium. I catch of a glimpse of his dragon in his eyes as he looks me over and his pupils turn to vertical slits. He has a little black notebook in his hand and turns to my father. “Item number Fifty-Two,” my father says. The man eyes the bruises on my arm, makes a notation in his little black book, and motions my father to head down a long, dark hallway. It opens into a large room that takes my breath away. Sparkling crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and bottles of fancy-looking liquor line the mirrored back bar in the corner. Barely dressed women are making drinks for men in expensive tuxedos. Opposite us is a large stage in front of rows of plush loveseats, high-back chairs, and assorted couches. I’ve always known my father was rich—most dragons are—but this is more than I could have imagined. An older man walks up, leering at me as a server passes by with drinks on a black acrylic tray. The man reaches out and grabs her ass, but she doesn’t so much as glance our way, just continues walking as if his assault is expected. He has a thin black line of mustache and a balding head that shines under the lights. I shudder as he flicks his tongue out at me repeatedly like a snake trying to taste its prey. I haven’t been around humans much. This man looks…weak, is the only way I can describe him. But also like he’s used to getting whatever he wants. However he wants it. He’s wealthy, like my father, and the men he invites to our home. “I heard you were bringing a treat to the auction tonight, and you didn’t disappoint, Winston. This one looks delightful.” The man licks his thin lips and scans the bruises on my arms, souvenirs from my stepmother and half-sisters. “She even looks a little broken in, too. Just like I prefer them. How do you make the marks stay, though? She is of your kind, isn’t she?” I don’t want this man to like me, and I try to step behind my father even though I know he’ll offer no protection. The man reaches out to stroke a chilly finger along my arm. Not surprisingly, Father lets him. He grins. “She’s definitely of my kind.” He lifts my arm to show off my bracelet. “Hexed gold with a dragon slayer’s blood in the core. She’s powerless to access her dragon.” Klaus looks intrigued. “Can she remove it?” My father snorts. “Not a chance. It’s permanent, and I killed the witch who placed it to be doubly sure.” Klaus swipes his tongue over his lips. “Any restrictions on the merchandise?” “None. Once it’s sold, I never want to see or hear about it again. Do what you please. No returns, of course.” “Of course,” Klaus coos. “So, I can dispose of it in any means I desire. That’s promising.” The blood rushes out of my head, and the room starts spinning. I knew I was being auctioned off to become a rich man’s sex slave, but this is worse. Anyone who buys me can do whatever they want with me. Even kill me. For years, I’ve yearned to be free of my father’s rage and the abuse from his beloved second family…but not like this. “You never want to see it again? Did I hear you correctly, Brummel?” A new voice. Deep, dripping with chocolate and honey and savage, almost like a growl. Unexpected warmth rushes through me and stirs low in my belly. The gold bracelet burns me. I have practice holding back my cries when I’m being hurt, but I’ve never felt a pain like this. This man swivels to look at the sound of my tiny whimper. His blue eyes pierce mine. Another slow roll of sensation centers between my thighs. Fresh pain stings me, but this time, a pleasure echoes with it. I barely suppress a moan that I can’t tell is of fear…or something else. This man is more dangerous than Klaus.

MargotI can’t stop staring at him. Hair the color of black licorice brushes the cheekbones of his perfectly tanned face, and his suit looks stupidly expensive. His white button-up shirt shows a peek of a chiseled chest, and I’m angry with myself for not looking away. He intrigues me and disgusts me at the same time. I fight the butterflies swirling in my stomach as he looks me up and down, his eyes flashing amber with his dragon. As if he’s hungry. And…is that a hint of smoke coming from his nostrils? “Whoever wins her can do whatever they want with her.” Father gives the man a snide grin. “If you want her, you’ll have to pay big, Harrison. No returns or refunds on this one.” The sound of disgust in his voice sends wave after wave of shame boiling inside me. If my own father despises me enough to do this, to sell me, what are the chances anyone here will find enough value in me to buy me? And what will he do to me then, if I can’t even earn him the money he needs? Harrison steps toward me. He’s so close I can feel his body heat as he slides a finger down my cheek. A swirl of emotion twists around my spine before he pinches my chin between his fingers. His grip is hard, just shy of hurting me. A look I can’t interpret shines in his eyes. That hidden spot between my thighs tingles, and his nostrils flare—definitely a wisp of smoke this time. Almost imperceptible. Embarrassed heat floods me. He’s scenting me, and the sensation between my legs tells me exactly what he can smell. Again, my wrist burns. I don’t understand what’s happening to me—only that I want it to stop and also wish it will never go away. “I can’t imagine possessing something as exquisite as this and ever letting it go.” He squeezes my chin just a bit harder, until my lips part. He studies my open mouth with narrowed eyes. Assessing. Calculating. Roughly, he pushes my face away from his touch, and I almost stumble. Without a word, Harrison stalks toward the black leather couch near the center of the stage. He sits in the middle, his ankle over his knee and one arm draped across the back of the couch as he looks at his phone. “You might be worth more than I thought, Margot.” “Who was that?” “Shut up.” Father yanks me to a chair in front of the stage. “Bidding’s about to begin.” A man in a long, black, hooded robe steps up to a podium holding a black gavel. “First up, we have Item Thirty-Seven, a seventeen-year-old virgin. Human. Natural red hair and blue eyes. And yes, the carpet does indeed match the drapes.” There’s a smattering of chuckles, and my stomach rolls. They’re selling humans here, too, not just dragons? I look around at the men and women in their expensive clothes, laughing like this is some kind of party. I guess to them, it is. No more outrageous than buying a painting or a pony. “This item is lease-only for thirty days. Item must be returned to the owner without any permanent marks, tattoos, or scars of any kind. Item has a clean bill of health. As with all of our auction items tonight, our doctor can verify innocence for a small fee before leaving the premises if the winning bidder so desires.” No returns. Father’s words echo in my head. Terror dries my throat and freezes me solid. Wildly, I look around and spot Harrison on the black couch. He’s not looking at his phone now. His avid gaze, flashing amber, is pinned… On me. The ringing in my ears drowns out everything, and I can’t focus on anything happening around me. Girl after girl is paraded across the stage, the auctioneer listing their “attributes.” Virgin. Slightly broken-in. Experienced in extreme BDSM. Permanent marks permitted on torso only. Lease-to-own available. I don’t understand any of this. Who are these women? Some human, some dragons, all beautiful and terrified and broken. They can’t all belong to rich families down on their luck, can they? I hate the moment of hope that fills me at the thought—that I am not alone in my humiliation. “For our final auction, we present…Item Fifty-Two. Bidding starts at one hundred. Do I have one hundred thousand?” My legs are jelly as Father hands me off to the escort who leads me onstage. I don’t want to, but I look out into the crowd. I need to see what sort of people are out there and who will bid on me. Who might own me. Men and women of all ages stare back at me, assessing me, judging me, whispering to each other. One woman even holds a baby, and bile chokes me. Some prepare numbered signs to place a bid, including that man, Harrison. “Five hundred thousand!” Klaus yells, and I cringe. “Do I hear six hundred thousand?” The auctioneer pauses, and another sign pops up. “Do I see seven hundred thousand? Does anyone want to pay seven hundred thousand for this premium virgin? She’s yours to keep! No returns on this item.” “One million!” Klaus raises his number. My breath catches. Dear Goddess, please don’t let him win me. I close my eyes, to stop myself from fainting. “I am personally taking Item Fifty-Two as a Tribute,” Harrison’s dark honey and chocolate voice says. I open my eyes. Icy fire burns my wrist. My moan is lost as gasps scatter around the room, the whispers rising to a suffocating white noise. Tribute? What does that even mean?

Harrison What the fuck did I just do? Do I really intend to take this woman—the daughter of one of the most despicable pieces of shit I’ve ever met, as a Tribute? “Tribute? Harrison, be reasonable!” the dirtbag whines. “She’s worth a mill—” I take two steps toward him as my dragon rumbles, shining through my eyes, black scales rippling across the backs of my hands. I’m bigger than this prick. Stronger. Faster. I could lengthen my claws and tear him to shreds in seconds, and he knows it. I wouldn’t even need my fire against a pitiful shit like him. Incredibly, he whirls to face the auctioneer. “She had bids! There was money on the table!” “You know the rules, Brummel,” I say coldly. This asshole isn’t worth raising my voice for. “Yes, I know the rules, but—” “No buts. Hand the item over, or you know what happens.” The woman’s been silent this entire time. Her pale eyes are open wide. So’s her mouth. And fuck me to the darkest depths and back again, it’s that mouth that had me stepping up to declare that I was taking her. That and those lush curves, just aching for my hands on them. The moment I saw her, my dragon had surged, heating up and rising for her. I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to taste that untouched treasure between her thighs. It’s too much. I’m suspicious of it. I came here tonight to keep an eye on things at Laurent’s request, but none of the items up for bids tonight caused such a reaction in me or my dragon. The fact she’s Brummel’s daughter is enough for me to assume there’s something wrong with her. Virgin? Not likely. The man’s a cheat, through and through. I could change my mind. Send her off with Klaus, that disgusting weasel. He’ll use her, abuse her, might even do worse than that, but at least with him she’ll have a chance at surviving. If I take her as a Tribute to compete in the Games, I can almost guarantee she’s not going to make it. Not with those slender limbs, that weak constitution. She’s trembling. Can’t even meet my gaze head-on. I’m surprised she’s still on her feet, based on the way she’s swaying. “It’s unorthodox but completely within the regulations, Mr. Brummel,” the auctioneer says apologetically. “Unless you wish, as the property owner, to purchase the item yourself at an approved increment beyond the last bid…” Brummel goes pale. Obviously, he doesn’t have the money, which is why he’s selling off his daughter in the first place. He can’t match the price, which means— “She’s mine.” The growl ripples up my throat. The woman flinches at the sound of it, her eyes closing. She sags, then tumbles to the ground in a slow, graceful spiral. I’m aware of all eyes on us as her father bends to slap her face over and over, until I catch his hand on the upswing. I haul him off of her and shove him back. “Enough!” I growl, a low warning that has anyone near me taking a step away. Brummel sprawls on the floor, staring up at me in surprise. He opens his mouth to say something, but I growl again, and he abruptly closes it. One of the item escorts rushes forward with a bucket of water and a cloth. It’s not the first time an item has fainted on the auction floor. The escort dabs her face with the cloth, and another comes to rub her arms. “Everyone, please adjourn to the reception room,” the auctioneer announces to get people moving. “Winners, please visit the desk to settle up your accounts. Enjoy the rest of the evening!” This crowd loves a good drama, but they love free booze and food more. And many are eager to make it home with their new prizes. They disperse, some to the reception hall, others to the office. I’m left standing over Brummel’s daughter, who sits up with a woozy expression. Brummel struggles to his feet. I hold myself back from punching him back to the ground and letting my dragon out to rip him apart. Instead, I reach for the Tribute’s wrist to haul her upright. “The fuck is this?” I hold her against me since she’s still clearly unable to stand on her own. I hold out her arm and the gold band encircling it. No wonder she’s so weak. Brummel gives me a greasy grin. “Hexed. Means you can do whatever you want to her, and she can’t—” “Defend herself,” I say through gritted jaws. “Protect herself.” It makes her a lovely little slave, especially for the humans who get off on using our kind, but it makes her basically useless as a Tribute. As she presses against me, her scent rises. Arousal. Terror. Confusion, too. But more than that. That bracelet means she can’t access her dragon, which means mine can’t reach her. I have no clue what this connection could be, but I fucking hate it. I shove her off me but keep a grip on her arm until I’m sure she’s not going to keel over again. I wait until she looks into my eyes, her own hazed with uncertainty. “Let’s go,” I order. “We’re leaving.” She doesn’t move. Her gaze flickers from me to her father and then back again. She has no idea what’s about to happen to her. “It’s time to begin your training.”

Margot “What’s your name?” “Margot.” I stutter it out as I manage to follow. His legs are twice as long as mine, and I almost have to run to keep up. I’m afraid of what will happen if I don’t. “Don’t know why I’m even asking. Should just call you Fifty-Two,” he mutters. My stomach twists. I don’t know what a Tribute is, but the way my father reacted, I have to wonder if it’s worse than being sold off to Klaus. “Mr. Blackstone!” a voice calls. He stops so fast I run into his back. He holds me at a distance. His eyes are full of disdain. I’m still woozy, but I manage to stand—if only so Harrison doesn’t have to hold me up. I send one last look over my shoulder at Father. I wish I could believe he’s shaking with grief at losing me, but I know it’s with anger that he’s not getting paid for selling me. I don’t want to go back home, but at least there, I know what I’m getting. I can put up with the beatings, the chores. But the unknown of what this man might do to me… I rush to my father, tears streaming down my face. “Please don’t let him take me!” Father shoves me away. I reach for his arm, but he pulls it away as if my touch will burn him. “You’re his now. His…” He pauses, and then says, as if choking on the word, “Tribute.” Tribute. There’s that word again. With that, Father turns and walks away. I cover my face with my hands as I sob. Rough fingers bite into my bruised flesh and pull me away. “Stop. You’re making a fool of yourself.” I start to respond but somehow know better and shut my mouth. My body moves as if on autopilot. Harrison leads me out of the building. A black stretch limo waits outside, and Harrison opens the door. He raises an eyebrow at me, but I hesitate for too long; he pushes me into the backseat before coming in behind me. Before I can sit, he smacks my ass. Hard. Like I’m being spanked. Punished. My stomach flutters. A pulse centers between my legs. “Faster next time. Never hesitate when I tell you to do something.” I crawl to the farthest corner away from him. His lip curls as if I amuse him. I maneuver my body into a ball, making myself as small as possible. Harrison’s unbothered. He settles in the leather seat and pours a whiskey from the bar. Bright-red neon lights the interior in strange ways that give me an even bigger headache. My bottom still throbs from the slap. He opens a small icebox and drops a couple of cubes into his drink, swirling it around while eyeing me, the ice tinkling loudly in the silence. “Are you a virgin?” I nod. “You know I’ll check?” I nod again, wondering how he’ll do that. “Have you ever kissed a boy?” I shake my head. “What about a man?” He takes a swig of whiskey and narrows his eyes when I shake my head again. Is he going to kiss me? I squeeze my arms tighter around my legs. His eyes flash amber, and I can tell he likes that I’m afraid of him, of everything. “When we arrive at the compound, you do what you’re told—and immediately—when you’re told. You are not to ask questions, and you keep your eyes down. Do not look anyone in the eyes unless they tell you to. If you disobey any single one command, your punishment will be swift and harsh. Disobedience will not be tolerated. Is that understood?” “What will I be asked to do?” Harrison’s knuckles whiten around the glass. “I just told you not to ask questions. I’ve claimed you, so you belong to me. You have no agency, no autonomy, and never forget, you’re just one of many. You can be easily discarded if you are more trouble than you are worth.” He pauses for a drink and then enunciates each word he speaks next. “Is. That. Clear?” I swallow and nod. “Yes, sir.” One of many, I think. At least I won’t be alone. Harrison is silent for the rest of the ride, ignoring me. He refills his glass several more times and chugs each one in such a distinctly powerful way I can’t keep my eyes off him. The windows are tinted so dark that I can’t see much except city lights in the distance. It’s hard to tell how long we’ve been driving. Every quiet minute with Harrison feels like an eternity, and I don’t know if it’s been ten minutes or ten hours. But it doesn’t matter. The longer we’re in the car, the longer I can put off whatever is about to happen when we get to the compound he mentioned. I’ve almost started to nod off when the limo stops. Harrison opens the back door, a fresh drink in his hand as he unfolds his tall, muscular frame and exits the vehicle. “Get out. Now.” I don’t hesitate. I inch from my corner, terrified to leave the limo and be…wherever we are. “I said out.” His voice is gruffer. “Now.” I almost fall back into the limo when I see I’m standing in front of a literal castle. With towers and everything. I can’t hold back my gasp. It’s beautiful. But what does that matter? I’ll probably have to sleep in the basement with the rats. Harrison begins walking toward the massive wooden double doors. One of them opens as he gets close, and he turns his head slightly to look back at me. “It’s time to get ready for Master. And he’s very…particular.”

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My best friend was Rachel Parker. After her family went bankrupt, I begged my dad to support her and even took the initiative to let her move into my house. I didn’t expect that she would live the life of a young lady in my family. Rachel still arrogantly treated me as a maid, arbitrarily instructed me, rolled her eyes, and scolded me. “If it weren’t for your pity, who would want to be your friend? “So what if you support me? You have money, and isn’t this what you should do? And you will also get a reputation as a philanthropist.” Later, she coveted my family’s property and teamed up with my boyfriend, Yves Whitman, to push me off the mountain and kill me. He once comforted and cared for my parents in front of them, always accompanying them, and finally recognized them as godparents as he wished. Opening my eyes again, I returned to university shortly after the start of the semester. Rachel showed off her shopping order on Facebook and in the group and then asked me to pay for it. I smiled indifferently, “Aren’t you a young lady in Sollke? Why can’t you even afford a bag worth 100,000 dollars?” On the first day of entering university, Rachel became famous throughout the university. Just because she sent the message in the freshman group: [Does our university have a helipad? My home is far away, so my parents arranged a helicopter to bring me here.] Finished sending this, Rachel received countless ridicule, and many students accused her of being pretentious in establishing her persona. But she didn’t care and transferred nearly 10,000 dollars to everyone in the group, thus earning the title of wealthy lady. Rachel casually booked a private room at a restaurant for an average of 4,999 dollars per person while our roommates were planning to go out for dinner together. Facing the admiring gazes of our two roommates, she said perfunctorily, “It’s okay. This little money is not even enough for me to buy a pair of shoes.” Our roommates were even more excited. But Rachel took advantage of their inattention, came over, lowered her voice, and said, “Transfer me 20,000 dollars. “I have spent all my living expenses this month. Can you ask your dad to give me more money next month?” It was at this moment that I realized that I was reborn. Rachel, who was in front of me, seemed annoyed that I didn’t answer, and there was anger in her low voice. “Ellie Collins, are you deaf? I ask you to transfer money but you didn’t understand, right? Why are you pretending?” As Rachel’s family went bankrupt, her parents owed tens of millions of dollars in debt and were almost unable to pay even her tuition. I felt sorry for her, so I asked my father to support her and specifically requested the school to arrange for us to stay in the same dormitory. In her previous life, in order to maintain her image as a young lady, she always spent money recklessly outside. Rachel casually bought bags worth tens of thousands of dollars. Before clicking to pay, she took a screenshot, posted it on Facebook and in the group to show off, and then ordered me to pay. Sometimes, as I transferred money slowly, I would get a scolding from Rachel. “Is your arm broken? Why does it take so long to transfer money? Ellie, are you unwilling to give me the money? “Okay, if you don’t give me money, then we can’t even be friends anymore. Get out of here as soon as you can.” Considering our years of relationship, I could only sigh and agree to all of her requests. But I didn’t expect that she would actually covet my family’s property. After teaming up with Yves and accidentally falling to my death during a trip, Rachel cried more miserably in front of my parents than anyone else. This made them shake their heads in regret, marveling at how good our relationship was. It took two years for her to become my parents’ goddaughter. Rachel also inherited my family company as she wished and became a true wealthy lady. With the blessings of my parents, relatives, and friends, she and Yves got married. I died in the damp and cold mountain, my rotting body covered with moss, and I could not rest in peace. Now reborn, of course, I would not continue to be the kind fool in the eyes of others like in my previous life. As Rachel frowned and called my name with anger in her voice, I deliberately showed a puzzled expression. “Ms. Parker, if you don’t have living expenses, just ask your parents for it. Why do you want me to transfer money to you? “So, am I your mother?”

Rachel was determined to save face, even deliberately lowering her voice to the lightest when asking for money just now. Now, I was not hiding my voice at all, causing unease and tension to appear on her face. Subconsciously, she turned her head to look at my two roommates and saw that they were confused but didn’t ask any further questions. Then, Rachel grabbed my wrist tightly and threatened, “Why are you talking so loudly? Are you trying to embarrass me? “If you embarrass me, I will never be friends with you again, no matter how much you beg me!” Because of my experience of being bullied in high school, I paid special attention to Rachel. Regardless of whether she did anything wrong or not, if she used this threat, I would promise to apologize to her immediately. She had been using this trick for three years and had already mastered it. It was a pity that I was no longer the same as I was in my previous life. Staring at the strange looks from the other two roommates, I didn’t respond to her threat and shook off her hand. “Aren’t you the wealthy lady in Sollke, Rachel? Why do you want me to give you even 20,000 dollars? “If you don’t have money, don’t pretend to be a wealthy lady. What’s wrong with you having to act like that?” She was stunned. After all, Rachel hadn’t paid the bill for the private room in the restaurant where we had dinner. Over the past few years, I had been her ATM machine for taking whatever she wanted. Suddenly, I stopped transferring money to her, which made Rachel very anxious. And those two roommates had long been blinded by her wealthy persona and were determined to be her most loyal bootlicker. In my previous life, I did not know how many times they excluded and isolated me at Rachel’s suggestion. As they saw me targeting her, they couldn’t stand it and immediately showed expressions of disgust. “Ellie, have you read too many romantic novels and thought you are the wealthy lady?” “If you have delusions, go get treatment. Don’t bother Rachel. She’s the one who treated us to this meal today. If you have the guts, don’t eat it.” As they said this, they pushed me away and rolled their eyes at me. “You spend her money and still scold her. Ellie, you are such an ungrateful person.” It was clearly my roommates who said those insults to me, but they were all directed at Rachel. Her face turned awkward. Rachel wanted to speak up for me when our roommates were targeting me. But I interrupted her in time. I smiled, “Okay, I won’t join the dinner party today. Just have fun.” Then, I turned around and walked out of the restaurant quickly. Even Rachel didn’t react. Later, she called me several times, but I ignored her. As I walked further away, I could still hear our two roommates deliberately raising their voices to speak ill of me. “Rachel, you are just too nice. But she is an ungrateful person and will never remember your kindness!” She clearly knew whether it was a favor or a hate. I took a taxi back to school, and halfway through, countless calls popped up on my phone, all from Rachel. I blacklisted all her contact information and watched videos leisurely in the dormitory. However, less than half an hour after I returned to the dormitory, with a beep, Rache and the others also came back. Compared to the bright smile on her face before going out, Rachel’s gloomy expression made me feel even happier at this moment. I even deliberately provoked her and showed a puzzled expression. “Why are you back so soon? Is the food not tasty?” My roommate, Amy Brooks, let out a loud scoff. “The food is delicious, but we also need to be able to afford it. “How could Ms. Parker do things like this? She said she wanted to treat us, but in the end, it became a Dutch treatment.” Rachel was very angry and had a bad temper, so she slapped Amy in the back. “Who do you think you are? How dare you be so sarcastic to me? “My family is much richer than yours. Believe it or not, I will make sure you can’t survive in the university!”

Amy was not a good-tempered person either. Amy gave in to Rachel before because she thought Rachel was a lady from some wealthy family who came to live on campus to experience life. As a result, Rachel had to pretend to be a wealthy lady, but she couldn’t come up with much money. As she was exposed, she became angry and embarrassed. Amy also got angry and grabbed Rachel’s hair and started wrestling with her. I was just taking advantage of the situation. While pretending to stop the fight, I secretly kicked Rachel several times. Her only pair of brand-name shoes was covered with footprints. As Amy finally let go, Rachel’s noble and elegant look as a wealthy lady had long disappeared. There were traces of blood on her delicately made-up face, and her hair and clothes were messy. She gritted her teeth and glared at us fiercely. “You’re ganging up on me, right? Wait, this isn’t over yet!” Rachel was the first to file a complaint and called the teacher, saying that we were bullying her. As she went to the teacher’s office, quite a few students saw her. In the freshman group, where messages were scrolling rapidly, a girl suddenly appeared. She said that she saw Rachel in the teacher’s office. [Her eyes are red, and she seems to be bullied by someone.] [Isn’t she a wealthy lady? How dare someone bully her?] It was hard to say whether anyone dared to bully Rachel. But right after these messages, another message popped up asking which building and which room the teacher’s office was located in. It was my boyfriend, Yves. His tone was extremely anxious, urging the girl to reply quickly. As she called out the office number, he fell silent as if he had already left halfway. When we first arrived at the teacher’s office, we saw Yves come over panting, and his eyes fixed on Rachel. Finishing making sure she was okay, he saw me and frowned. I stood leisurely by and watched them exchange glances. In my previous life, I must have been blind and mentally ill to think there was nothing wrong with them. I also believed that he took special care of Rachel. Yves even explained it to me as he peeled the prawn for her personally. “Isn’t she your good friend? Then, it’s only right that I treat her well.” The teacher coughed at the right time. “You are Rachel’s roommates, right? Did you know that she wants to change dormitory?” Before Amy and I could answer, Yves asked first, “Why did she change the dormitory? Was she bullied?” Amy rolled her eyes snidely. Rachel’s eyes were red. She looked at me cautiously at first, then shook her head, her voice soft and aggrieved. “No, they didn’t bully me.” Hypocrisy filled the entire office. But Yves couldn’t see it. His eyes were full of heartache, and he sighed deeply, “Rachel, you are just too kind.” He stood in front of her like a protector and ordered me to apologize to her. “Ellie, Rachel is kind-hearted, so she asked her parents to support you for so many years. “I didn’t expect you to be such an ungrateful person, repaying her kindness with hatred!” As this crime was brought against me, not only me but also Amy was dumbfounded. I looked at Yves, who had an angry face, and then at Rachel, who was hiding behind him with a smug look on her face. I couldn’t help but sneer. Because of his protection, I couldn’t slap her. Then, I had to settle for the next best thing and slap Yves. As he looked at me with his hands covering his face in disbelief, I took out my cell phone and called my dad. Then, the call was connected. Seeing Rachel’s pale face, I slowly called out, “Dad.” My dad responded. There was sarcasm in his deep voice. “It’s really interesting. I have been supporting Rachel for more than ten years. I didn’t expect that in other people’s eyes, my daughter was the one being supported.”

As Rachel heard what my father said, her eyes changed again and again, and she rushed over and snatched my phone. She saw the call-in-progress display on the screen. Then, Rachel glared at me with her eyes as if they were filled with poison and forced a flattering smile. “Mr. Collins, don’t believe what Ellie said. We were just joking.” This kind of talk might be enough to fool a brainless person like Yves, but how could a shrewd man like my father believe it? I did not know what my father said, but Rachel’s lips became pale. She bit her lips and took a long time to utter the word “okay”. As soon as she hung up the phone, Yves’s question came one after another. He frowned and asked, “Rachel, what happened? Why do you look so unhappy? “Also, aren’t you Ms. Parker? Ellie is just a poor student sponsored by your family. How dare she talk to you like that?” I knew it a long time ago. Rachel never told others that it was my parents who sponsored her. Instead, she said that she sponsored me. Due to Rachel’s kindness, I could get into the car that arranged to pick us up and drop us off during the holidays. Her friends had mocked me with jealousy and envy countless times. They thought that I was so lucky to have Rachel’s support. She hinted several times that I was dissatisfied with her and even stole the gifts her parents gave me. Then, her friends accused me, and the abusive words were like a wave, drowning me completely. [You ungrateful bastard! Rachel is so good to you, but you actually harmed her. You are such a piece of shit.] [Ellie, how come you don’t even understand what it means to be a bootlicker?] [People like you who don’t know how to be grateful should die sooner!] I explained it and also wanted to prove that I was the one who actually funded her. I wanted to tell them that Rachel was not the so-called rich lady at all. I was the one. But as they looked at the evidence I produced, the malice in their eyes became even more obvious. [What’s the point of using your wallet balance and these brand-name items as proof? They must have been bought for you by Rachel.] [Even if you really bought it yourself, we don’t even know where the money came from. It’s dirty and disgusting!] If it weren’t for this massive cyber violence, I might not agree with Rachel’s proposal to go traveling with her to relax. Nor would I die at the foot of the mountain and slowly stop breathing. I didn’t listen carefully to her explanation to Yves in a panic. I just glanced at my phone and saw it was a message from my family driver. He said he still had half an hour to arrive at my university. The teacher also received a call. She answered with a strange look on her face, bent down, wrote two leave requests, and handed them to me. “Your family contacted the school and said something happened at home. I have already written you a note for leave.”

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It was the seventh year I had been with Bruce Green. I decided to drop by his office, but as I approached, I overheard him chatting with someone. “Seven years with Mia, huh? Must be pretty happy, right?” Bruce replied coolly, “I’ve never loved her. Do you believe it?” “Come on, you can’t be serious. Seven years without love? You’re not still hung up on Felicity, are you? She’s been gone for years.” “Don’t say that. Felicity and I are ancient history…”

On Christmas Eve, my parents took me home on the last bus. I cried loudly and insisted on leaving, so Farrell and Malinda had no choice but to take me out of the bus. The bus then had an accident that night. Farrell and Malinda were shocked.

My tendons were cut, my eyes gouged out, and I was tortured to death. Yet when my father spoke of me, he still cursed. “I never had such a son! It’s better he died out there!” He’d beat me mercilessly with his belt and throw away the health tonics I bought him. In front of the neighbors, he’d slap me hard across the face, roaring at me to get lost. But when my body was brought to him, dressed in a police uniform and adorned with medals carried by my fellow officers, this veteran broke down, wailing uncontrollably. “Son… God, I’m so sorry!” ***** I was dead. My tendons severed, my eyes blinded, my body beaten beyond recognition. The final blow struck my chest, ending my life for good. By the end, staying alive had become the real hell. Every second, I silently begged those two psychos to just finish me off. When the last blade pierced my heart, I barely felt a thing. Hours of agony had numbed me to the pain. Darkness enveloped me, but my soul felt brighter than ever. I knew my message had reached my team. They’d be here soon. This massive drug operation would finally be shut down for good. Ten long years undercover, and my mission was complete at last. Slowly, the cold grip of blood loss faded away. Suddenly, I felt myself drift upward, my spirit separating from my body. Below, I saw my own battered corpse and the two heartless bastards standing over it. One of them kicked my lifeless body. Realizing I was truly dead, he spat viciously. “Fucking finally. Tough son of a bitch lasted way longer than I thought. My arms are killing me from all that pounding. Come on, give me a hand. Let’s dump this poor schmuck in that junkyard over the hill!” I watched helplessly as they hauled my body away, tossing it into the desolate scrapyard like yesterday’s trash. Then, as if pulled by an invisible force, my spirit drifted across half the city, back to the old neighborhood I once called home. There, hunched and frail, a familiar figure shuffled slowly down the sidewalk. My eyes stung with ghostly tears as I choked out, “Dad…” James Henderson, my father, walked on, deaf to my words. Our neighbor, Larry, spotted him and called out with a smile, “Hey James, where’s that boy of yours? Haven’t seen him around in ages.” Dad’s friendly expression darkened instantly. He exploded, “I haven’t had a son for ten years! Even if I did, he’s probably dead in a ditch somewhere by now!” “How could anyone have such a good-for-nothing child? The day that plague dies will be the day the Henderson name is finally clean!” My chest tightened, the knife wound burning like it was freshly poisoned. I’d barely set foot in my hometown for the past ten years, but every time I did, I heard the same hateful words. Two Christmases ago, I headed home with bags of groceries, hoping to spend the holiday with my father. As soon as I opened the door, he slapped me hard across the face. “Get out! I don’t want anything from you!” I forced a smile, trying to placate him. “Dad… please, just let me stay for dinner. I’ll leave right after.” To my shock, he grabbed the trash bag by the door and dumped its contents over my head, right in front of the neighbors. “Don’t you dare call me Dad!” he bellowed. “No son of mine would turn out to be such a monster! You’re better off dead in a ditch somewhere, and don’t ever show your face around here again!” I stood there, reeking garbage and leftover food covering me from head to toe, as the neighbors muttered and whispered around us. “Man, James sure is cold-hearted,” someone muttered. “What do you know?” another voice snapped. “His son is nothing but trouble – drugs, stealing, messing around. He got what he deserved!” My face burned with shame. On Christmas, I sat alone on the freezing street, covered in garbage, for the entire night. It snowed that night, but my heart was colder than the ice. The mocking laughter in front of me broke through my thoughts. I knew the neighbors were doing it on purpose. Everyone in the neighborhood knew that James’ son had been kicked out of the police academy for drug use, and his bright future had gone up in smoke. And James, who had once bragged about me to anyone who would listen when I got into the academy, had become the laughingstock of the entire community. Years ago, when Larry was young, he’d harassed some women. My dad, a military veteran, had taught him a lesson with his fists. Their relationship had been icy ever since, and Larry knew just how to get under my dad’s skin. When Larry heard my dad’s words, he smirked. “Come on, James. That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? Like it or not, he’s still your flesh and blood. Your son.” My father’s face turned livid, his jaw clenched tight. “I have no such son,” he spat out. “That piece of garbage… Why doesn’t God do us all a favor and strike him down with lightning?” With that, my father stormed off. I hovered near the old man, watching as the corners of his mouth trembled almost imperceptibly. Slowly, his eyes welled up with tears. The pain in my heart was sharper than any knife. As tears started to roll down my own cheeks, I finally whispered the words I’d been choking back for what felt like an eternity, “Dad… I’m sorry.”

Dad stumbled through the front door, collapsing onto the couch with a wheezy exhale. He sat there, staring into space, for what felt like hours. Finally, he struggled to his feet and shuffled to the bookshelf. Bending down, he pulled out a small booklet from the bottom shelf. It took me a moment to realize it was my old police academy acceptance letter. With trembling hands, Dad opened it. His weathered fingers traced the words as he read aloud in a soft, shaky voice. “David… accepted to our academy… as a police officer trainee.” A lump formed in my throat. Grief washed over me like a tidal wave, leaving me breathless. Memories from that day came flooding back. I remembered racing home, waving that letter like a victory flag. “Dad!” I had shouted. “Dad! I got in!” Back then, my father was still young. He rushed out of the stairwell to greet me, grinning from ear to ear. His large hands cradled my acceptance letter, reading it over and over. “Well done, son! You’re my pride. I couldn’t be more proud of you!” That day, his laughter echoed throughout the entire neighborhood. The neighbors all said, “Like father, like son. James’ boy is truly something special, becoming a police officer!” But no one could have predicted that I’d be expelled for drug use during my second semester of freshman year. The day I came home with my bags packed, I fell to my knees. My father, eyes red with anger and disappointment, beat me until his belt broke. From that day on, he could never again hold his head high among the neighbors. His once-proud posture, straight for decades, crumpled because of me. My dad, always chatty and social, stopped playing chess and shooting the breeze with neighbors. He was afraid they’d bring me up, afraid to hear their pity or opinions about me, even if well-meaning. This cheerful old man, who’d been outgoing his whole life, started spending his days cooped up at home, cutting off contact with everyone. This went on for ten long years. Meanwhile, I was spiraling out of control, hanging with a rough crowd, and sinking deeper into a world of trouble. At first, Dad tried scolding and hitting me. But eventually, he realized nothing could keep me in line. That was when the light went out in his eyes. He stopped reaching out to me. He wouldn’t even open the door when I came home. Father and son had become enemies, and our relationship was severed completely. When I saw that acceptance letter, I could hardly believe it. I never imagined he’d kept it all this time. A wave of bitterness, hidden in my heart for a decade, washed over me. I could almost see him, night after night, holding that letter and weeping. The image hit me like a bullet between the eyes, nearly killing me all over again.

Feona Henderson, my sister, walked in just as Dad was wiping away his tears. She’d known the truth for years but pretended not to notice. “Dad, what would you like for dinner? I’ll cook.” He just shook his head, silent. Feona walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Her face fell as she saw it packed with groceries. “Dad, has David been here?” My dad’s expression darkened, his voice turning cold. “He showed up three days ago. Bought a bunch of stuff we didn’t ask for. Who needs his charity? Eating his food would probably take years off my life!” Feona sighed, “David hardly ever comes around these days. And when he does, you either take a swing at him or bite his head off. Why do you two keep doing this to each other?” It was true. In the ten years since I’d dropped out of the police academy, I could count my visits home on one hand. But three days ago, for reasons I’d rather not explain, I made what I knew would be my last trip home. I’d loaded up on groceries, more than I could carry, and crammed them all into the fridge. James glared at me with undisguised contempt. “Take your stuff and get out! Everything you touch is poison. It could kill me if I eat it!” His words were harsh, but I pretended not to hear. I quietly prepared a table full of dishes, then sheepishly said, “Dad, it’s been ten years since we had a drink together. Let me keep you company for a few rounds.” Surprisingly, James didn’t chase me out with a broom that day. Instead, he sat down at the table, his face grim. I raised my glass and spoke softly. “Dad, it’s been ten years. I know I’ve disappointed you and brought shame to you. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but I had my reasons. I didn’t have a choice.” James slammed his cup down on the table with a loud crack, breaking the cup. “Didn’t have a choice? I might be old, but I’m not blind! What kind of circumstances would make you quit being a cop to do drugs? What circumstances would keep you away from home for ten years? What circumstances would turn my son into a social outcast?” My forehead throbbed with shame, but I couldn’t utter a word in my defense. Several times, I tried to speak, but each time, I swallowed my words. My father’s thin, weathered hand slammed against the table as he fired off his questions, each word dripping with anguish. “Answer me! What did I always tell you when you were a kid? What should a Henderson do?” I kept my head down, fighting back tears. “We may not change the world, but we must do the right things.” As soon as the words left my mouth, my father lost control. His hand flew across my face in a stinging slap. “And what have you done? Tell me, can you live with yourself?” he growled. My ears rang as ten years of pent-up emotions exploded in an instant. I leaped to my feet, shouting uncontrollably, “I don’t regret a damn thing I did, you hear me?!” My father froze, staring at me in despair as if I were a stranger he couldn’t comprehend. After a moment of stunned silence, he finally accepted that the person before him was no longer the son he had cherished since childhood. His hands trembled at his sides, clenching into fists before he shook his head weakly. “Get out,” he said, his voice cold. “You are not my son. From now on, my son is dead to me. Get out of my sight. I never want to see you again!” And so, my final meeting with my father ended in bitter discord. I bolted from the house in a daze, somehow ending up at the old park where Dad used to push me on the swings. With trembling fingers, I pulled out my phone and dialed that number. “Captain,” I choked out, barely holding it together. “Please. I’m begging you. Let this be my final mission. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.” My voice cracked as I whispered, “I just want to go home.”

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