Category: English

After my husband left for his business trip, I got a call: “Hello, I’m a clerk from a sex toy store. May I speak with Mrs. Miller? Your husband’s payment for the sex toy he bought yesterday afternoon failed. Could you please complete the payment?” I immediately called Alex, my husband, probing: “Weren’t you on a business trip yesterday? Why were you buying a sex toy yesterday afternoon?” He paused for a second, then chuckled lightly: “Oh, I was going to surprise you, but I guess you found out early.” After we got married, Alex had always been so proper in bed, never once buying any sex toys. He hadn’t even given a second glance to the sheer nightgown I bought last week. I hung up, then called the sex toy store again: “Send me your address. I’ll come down and pay now.” When I arrived at the sex toy store, the clerk pulled out the bill and said: “Hello, that’ll be $200.” I didn’t pay immediately. Instead, I said to the clerk: “I’d like to see the security footage first, just to confirm it was my husband who made the purchase.” The clerk looked surprised for a moment, then nodded. “Of course, please wait a moment.” He pulled up the monitor, and a familiar figure quickly appeared on the screen. It was Alex, my husband. Beside him stood a young woman, wearing a tight-fitting bodycon dress that highlighted her sensual curves. Alex and the young woman picked out handcuffs, a whip, candles, and even a nurse’s uniform. The woman gave a shy smile. Alex gently stroked her head. My heart instantly twisted into a knot. On the screen, the woman’s necklace caught my eye. My gaze locked. The pendant on that necklace was the letter “A”. I had designed the sketch myself and had it custom-made. It was one of a kind. It was my wedding anniversary gift to him. I made sure to save the footage. Then I handed the clerk my bank card: “It’s definitely my husband! Take the payment!” Back home, silence hung heavy in the air. I walked into Alex’s study, opened the company’s internal messaging app, and clicked on the list of female employees. One young face after another scrolled by. Finally, my finger stopped on the profile picture of a woman named Chloe Young. It was the same woman from the security footage. I closed the app and made a call. My best friend, Bella King, answered on the other end: “Hey, Rory, what’s up? How come you’re free to call today?” “I need you to look someone up for me, a new intern at our company, Chloe Young.” My voice was eerily calm. “Also, pull up all of Alex’s private account statements, hotel records, and immigration information from the last six months. Don’t miss a single detail.” Bella was quiet for two seconds. “…Did something happen with Alex?” “Worse than that.” After I hung up, Alex’s call came through. “Rory, are you busy?” His usual gentle voice came through. “No, just got off work.” “How was your day? Tired?” “It was fine.” “I’ll be back tomorrow. I brought you a gift, I promise you’ll love it.” He was still using that gentle tone. Listening to him, my stomach churned. The next day, as soon as I arrived at the office, Bella’s encrypted email landed in my inbox. “Everything you asked for. See for yourself.” I opened the attachment. It was Chloe’s social media account. The latest post featured *my* necklace. The caption read: “Boyfriend says I’m his muse. I absolutely adore this necklace.” I scrolled down further. One photo showed her in the background of our living room, holding my cat, grinning innocently. “Cuddling with my boyfriend’s cat at his place. Feeling totally cured.” Another showed her in my car, holding my favorite car diffuser. “Boyfriend’s car smells so good. He says it’s his sanctuary.” Every photo, every word, was a blatant claim of ownership. I closed the photos, my face expressionless, and opened another folder. It was Chloe’s background, dug up by Bella. A regular university, a completely unremarkable resume. Getting an internship at a top-tier design firm like ours was nothing short of a miracle. Her only notable achievement was a first-place prize in a campus competition for a city landscape design report. That report sparked a memory. I scrolled further, and when I saw the last photo, my body stiffened. In the picture, Chloe was holding a printed design sketch, a look of triumphant satisfaction on her face. The title on the blueprint was unmistakably – “South Side Project.” This was the core design proposal I had poured my heart and soul into for three months, for the company’s most important annual bid. It was the most crucial project of my entire career.

The next day, I arrived at the company’s annual key project proposal meeting. I found an inconspicuous corner and sat down, watching Alex lead Chloe to the most central seats in the front row. He was impeccably dressed in a bespoke suit, his hair neatly combed. He leaned over, talking to a client representative beside him, completely at ease. Chloe sat next to him, clad in a white professional suit, her face adorned with exquisite makeup. Gone was her previous innocent look, replaced by the sharp competence of a rising professional. The way she looked at Alex was filled with adoration and worship. The two chatted and laughed, looking every bit like a dazzling duo working in perfect sync. Soon, the presentation began. Chloe, as the lead presenter for the “South Side Project,” walked onto the stage. She took a deep breath and began to articulate the design concept. “The core of our South Side Project lies in its unique ‘ecological sky bridge’ design. It will act like a vibrant, green artery…” These were the exact words I had told Alex on countless late nights, fueled by coffee. I had once believed those conversations were our deepest connection, a true meeting of minds. Now, I realized he was just the most patient thief. Chloe’s presentation was a success. When the final renderings were displayed on the PPT, a collective gasp of admiration rippled through the room. The presentation ended, followed by thunderous applause. The host stepped onto the stage: “Thank you, Ms. Young, for your brilliant presentation! Now, let’s move on to the Q&A session.” In the audience, a distinguished real estate mogul, Mr. Davis from City Development Group, raised his hand. He was known in the industry for his incredibly sharp eye. “Ms. Young, hello,” Mr. Davis began. “Given the importance of this project, isn’t it a bit risky to have a newcomer lead it? I recall Ms. Vance’s previous ‘Riverside Gate’ project was an industry benchmark.” Chloe’s face visibly faltered for a moment, but she quickly composed herself, glancing pleadingly at Alex in the audience. Alex gave her a reassuring smile, then picked up the microphone in front of him. “Mr. Davis, thank you for your question.” He stood up, his gaze sweeping across the room, finally resting on Chloe, full of pride. “Aurora Vance, my wife, is indeed very seasoned in design. But architecture needs new life. Chloe’s proposal, its biggest highlight, is its creativity—something experience alone can’t replicate.” The entire room fell silent. Then, an even more enthusiastic round of applause erupted. My world went silent, save for the dull thudding of my heart in my chest. I never imagined my husband would publicly discredit me. Mr. Davis raised an eyebrow but said no more, taking his seat. The host smiled, taking over: “It seems Mr. Miller has great confidence in Ms. Young! So, are there any other guests who would like to ask a question?” The room remained quiet. After Alex’s full endorsement of Chloe, it seemed no one else had anything to ask. Chloe bowed on stage, her face radiating undisguised triumph and joy. I put away my phone and picked up the microphone on the table. Instantly, all eyes turned to me. The host paused, bewildered: “Ma’am, may I ask who you are?” The smile on Alex’s face froze. Chloe’s gaze, directed at me, also held a hint of wariness.

I didn’t answer the host, walking directly to the podium. My heels clicked crisply and rhythmically on the polished floor. Each step echoed, striking a chord in Alex and Chloe’s hearts. The host on stage looked a little flustered, instinctively trying to stop me. I merely gave him a look, and he pulled his hand back. I took the microphone from him. “Hello, everyone.” My voice, amplified through the speakers, filled the entire room, clear and steady. “First, I’d like to thank Mr. Davis for his excellent question earlier.” I paused, my gaze sweeping past everyone, landing precisely on my husband, Alex. “Secondly, I’d like to add a point to Mr. Miller’s recent statement.” I turned to face Chloe, whose face had already started to pale, and smiled. “Ms. Young, I’m delighted that you have such a deep understanding of the South Side Project. As the original creator of this project, I am truly gratified.” *Boom!* The entire room erupted into a stunned murmur. Countless eyes darted between me, Alex, and Chloe. Alex’s face instantly turned ashen with fury. “Aurora! What are you talking about!” he hissed in a low, furious whisper. Chloe panicked too, hastily explaining: “No, everyone, don’t listen to her nonsense, this proposal is mine…” “Is it yours?” I cut her off. I gestured for my assistant to connect my USB drive to the projector. On the large screen behind me, Chloe’s exquisite renderings vanished. They were replaced by the original files from my computer. Folder after folder, neatly arranged by date. “This is the first conceptual model for the South Side Project, created in October of last year.” I clicked open the earliest folder, revealing rough sketches brimming with raw, original ideas. “This is the first version, and this is the second version.” Each file I opened, Chloe’s face grew a shade paler. Finally, I clicked open the blueprint page for the “ecological sky bridge” core structure design. “As for the ecological sky bridge that Ms. Young so proudly showcased, I have the complete data calculation process. Since you claim this was your inspiration, perhaps you can explain it to everyone?” All eyes in the room shot towards Chloe. She stood there, her lips trembling, her meticulously made-up face flushed crimson, unable to utter a single word. She wouldn’t understand any of it. Alex finally couldn’t sit still. He quickly strode onto the stage. “Enough, Aurora!” he squeezed out, his voice laced with a warning, “Is this a company internal matter you have to cause a scene about here?” He wanted to dismiss it as a marital dispute and an internal company problem. “Internal matter?” I picked up the microphone. “Mr. Miller, have you forgotten how you publicly assessed me just now?” He choked. Immediately, he tried to compose himself and turned to the client representatives in the audience, attempting to smooth things over. “Everyone, my apologies, this is just a private matter between my wife and me.” “Private matter?” I held up the microphone. “Director Miller claimed that he spent the past few days in a neighboring city conducting final on-site inspections for the South Side Project.” I paused, watching his eyes widen in terror. “But I just received news that Director Miller and his intern have been staying in the Presidential Suite at the Ritz-Carlton here in the city for the past few days. I wonder what ‘project’ the two of you were ‘inspecting’ in the hotel?” At the same time, I played the security video from the sex toy store. The sex toys in their hands made the entire room erupt into chaos.

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Mom always said my birthday was her day of suffering, so she never allowed me to celebrate it. But Chloe… she always had a grand birthday party every year. I cried, begging Mom to let me celebrate just once. Mom, however, pulled out the annual statement and threw it in front of me: “This year, I’ve spent a whopping five thousand eight hundred fifty dollars and six cents on you.” “You useless burden, after all the money I’ve poured into you, you still expect a birthday celebration?” I didn’t understand. Our family wasn’t poor, yet Mom remembered every penny, even the cost of an ice cream. “If it weren’t for having you, how would my body be ruined and covered in stretch marks? How else would your father have gone out and found a mistress?” “All my suffering, it’s because of you. If you truly want to repay me, you should just die.” “I almost died in the operating room giving birth to you, and not only are you ungrateful, but you want to celebrate my suffering? Do you even have conscience?” I pulled the covers tightly over myself, afraid to even cry out loud. To make Mom happy, I jumped from the rooftop. But even after I truly died, Mom and Dad still weren’t happy.

Mom angrily threw the annual statement in front of me. My eyes were swollen from crying, and I knelt on the floor, sobbing continuously. “Mom, I’ll earn money when I grow up and pay you back…” Mom didn’t even hesitate, slapping me across the face. A burning pain flared on my cheek, followed by Mom’s furious roar. “Pay back? Can you ever pay back all the years of youth and energy I spent raising you?” “If you really want to pay me back, you should just die sooner and set me free.” Mom smashed everything she could get her hands on, then left the house with Chloe, leaving me alone, kneeling amidst a pile of shattered debris. I could only pin my hopes on Dad. Dad came home drunk, flopping onto the couch to scroll on his phone. I stopped cleaning the mess and got up to get him some water. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Mom’s SnapChat Story on his phone. In the photo, Mom was embracing Chloe, smiling happily, as if nothing had happened moments ago. The caption read: “No matter what happens, never bring your bad mood to your child! That’s our promise!” She couldn’t bring her bad mood to Chloe, but she could unleash all her fury on me. My hand, holding the glass, trembled, and the water spilled directly onto Dad. Dad quickly lifted his phone away, looking up at me angrily, his voice sharp as he yelled. “Lily, are your hands useless? You can’t even do a simple chore right. What good are you?” My nose stung, and tears welled up again. “Dad… I didn’t mean to…” Dad shot me an impatient glance, pointing at the door and shouting, “Oh shut up with the crying, you’re annoying as hell, just get out!” I sobbed, trying to explain to Dad, but he didn’t give me a chance, getting up and heading upstairs. I mustered all my courage and yelled after him, “Dad, today… it’s my birthday.” Dad’s footsteps on the stairs stopped. He turned to look at me, and I thought he finally remembered, that he would celebrate my birthday just once. I watched him, filled with hope and anxiety, but what Dad said was, “Birthday? What birthday?” “I never even heard of birthdays when I was a kid. You just haven’t known hardship.” Dad went upstairs without another look. I sobbed my way out of the house and knelt in the snow. Mom and Dad, you always said I was a jinx, that I was your curse, that you fought every day because of me… So, Mom and Dad, if I leave, will you stop fighting?

That night, I came down with a high fever. I tried to ignore the discomfort, crawled out of my room, and knocked on Mom’s door. Mom impatiently yanked the door open, her voice full of annoyance: “What now? Keeping people awake in the middle of the night? Are you happy only when I drop dead from exhaustion?” I quickly shook my head, explaining, “No, Mom, I just feel really unwell, I wanted to…” Before I could finish, she cut me off: “Unwell? What’s there to feel unwell about? Chloe fell and hurt her leg today, and she didn’t say she was unwell. Why are you acting unwell?” Chloe’s crying came from inside the room. Mom quickly rushed in, holding Chloe and comforting her. “Chloe, what’s wrong? Does it still hurt?” Chloe buried her head in Mom’s arms, sobbing, “Mom, it hurts! It’s all Lily’s fault for fighting with you today. I was so upset, I wasn’t watching where I was going, and that’s why I fell…” Mom wiped her tears, her angry gaze turning to me: “It’s all your fault. You’re just a jinx. Why don’t you just die?” Tears blurred my vision. I heard Mom close the door, and I lay there on the floor all night. Before, when Mom used to hit me for Chloe, I thought it was just because Chloe looked like Mom, so Mom doted on her especially. But my appearance wasn’t something I could control, so I tried to achieve perfection in other things. From the time I started school, my grades were always at the top of the class, but when I showed my report card to Mom, Mom was busy comforting Chloe, who had ranked last in her class. My report card, showing I was first in the whole school, was casually tossed into the trash. I made many more efforts, winning countless awards, but in Mom’s eyes, there was still only Chloe. The teacher assigned an essay about our mothers. I wrote and tore, tore and wrote on the paper. I could never remember a single time Mom had been gentle or caring towards me… In the end, I turned in a blank piece of paper. The teacher made me stand at the front of the class for an entire period and lectured me in front of everyone, saying I was heartless. I stood there, listening to all my classmates’ essays, and thought for the whole class if Mom truly loved me. As I got older, I gradually began to understand that Mom didn’t love me, not because I wasn’t good enough. It was because she simply didn’t like me, didn’t like my existence. I thought I was going to die, but I didn’t. I continued to live cautiously like that in the house for half a year. Half a month before Chloe’s birthday, Mom started preparing everything for Chloe’s party and her birthday gifts. My eyes red, I walked past her. Mom sighed helplessly, then called me back. “Who are you putting on that long face for?” “Chloe’s birthday is in a few days. You better be happy. Don’t let me see that sour expression on your face again.” I wanted to ask Mom why she held such grand birthday parties for Chloe every year but wouldn’t allow me even a small celebration. But the words caught in my throat. I nodded obediently and returned to my room. Behind me, Mom happily hummed a tune, continuing to prepare. Chloe merely mentioned wanting Dad to celebrate her birthday with her, and Mom, who usually fought with Dad the moment she saw him, actually cooked a meal herself and humbly invited Dad to the birthday party. Even more surprisingly, Dad agreed. I crouched in the kitchen, crying silently, tears dripping into my rice bowl. I lost all appetite. So I just poured the remaining rice and pickles into the trash. Mom, furious, smashed my bowl, pointing at my nose and yelling, “Lily, if you don’t want to eat, get out! What do you mean by secretly throwing it away? Is my cooking not good enough for your royal taste?” I looked at the shattered pieces on the floor, trying to explain, “No, I just wasn’t hungry…” Before I could finish, a stinging slap landed squarely on my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw many pieces of meat, barely touched, discarded on Chloe’s plate…

At the birthday party, Chloe invited many classmates and friends. I carefully presented a thoughtfully chosen gift to Chloe. Chloe didn’t even look, knocking the gift box to the floor. “What is this junk? I’m your older sister, and this is how you treat my birthday?” “Have you forgotten how many pretty dresses I gave you for your birthday?” Chloe did give me many dresses, but among them, not a single one was new. They were all dresses Chloe had worn, or her friends and classmates had worn… I sobbed, picking up the gift and wiping off the dust with my sleeve. “Chloe, you look best with hair clips.” “I saved money for months to buy this. Please take it…” My words were again cut off by Chloe. She forcefully snatched the box and threw it to the ground, her eyes full of disdain. Watching the hair clip fall to the floor, my heart suddenly twisted in pain, making it hard to breathe. I crouched down, trembling, reaching out to pick it up. But then I saw Chloe stomp on the hair clip several times until it broke into two pieces. Chloe stood with her arms crossed, looking down at me with contempt. “Mom says you’re a jinx. If I wear a hair clip from you, who knows what bad things might happen!” “A jinx like you should take all your bad luck and get out of our house.” “Mom and Dad have lived such good lives, I don’t know how we ended up with a jinx like you. You even almost killed Mom in the operating room. Ugh, a jinx!” I collapsed to the floor, Chloe’s voice becoming increasingly muffled in my ears. When I woke up, Mom and Chloe were sitting by the bed, waiting. I was incredibly excited. This was the first time Mom had stepped into my room since I could remember. But before I could even speak, Mom slapped me hard. I looked at her, confused, tears flowing against my will. “Mom…” I hadn’t done anything wrong, why… “Don’t call me Mom. I don’t have a jinx daughter like you. Look what you’ve done! If you’re going to die, do it outside! What’s the deal with dying at Chloe’s birthday party?” “Your dad finally agreed to celebrate Chloe’s birthday, and now it’s all ruined because of you.” My smile froze. So Mom came into the room not to care for me, but to punish me for Chloe. I tried to get up from the bed but accidentally fell off. I just stayed there, kneeling in front of Mom. I carefully reached out and tugged at Mom’s clothes: “Mom, I… I didn’t mean to.” Mom kicked me hard. My head hit the corner of the bed, and a lot of blood flowed. But Mom showed no remorse, turning and rushing out of the room. When Mom came back in, I saw a torn piece where I had tugged at her clothes. Mom, I’m not dirty. I shower every day. Do you despise me that much? Chloe is your child, and I’m also flesh and blood from you… Why don’t you feel any pity for me at all? Mom, you always said I should die. If I die, will you finally be happy? And Dad, will he stop fighting with you? If that’s the case, then I’m willing to die.

I wanted to say goodbye to Mom in person, so I covered my still-bleeding head and went to the banquet hall. When Mom saw me, her eyes were filled with nothing but anger. “What are you doing here? What happened to your head?” Hearing Mom care about me, I was overjoyed. “I’m fine…” My words hadn’t even fully left my mouth when Mom cut me off. “How unlucky. It’s Chloe’s birthday party today. What are you trying to do, making yourself look like this on purpose?” “Do you want our whole family to catch your bad luck? A perfectly good birthday party, and you’ve ruined the atmosphere. I shouldn’t have brought you.” Mom glared at me, then turned and went into the banquet hall. The doors closed. As the doors shut, I saw through the gap Mom gently putting a birthday hat on Chloe’s head. I had ruined the birthday party Mom had painstakingly prepared for Chloe, and made Mom angry. I wanted to make Mom happy again. I asked many people, and they said that death meant one’s soul flew to heaven. So I climbed onto the rooftop. It was so close to the sky here. If I jumped from here, would I fly to heaven? Just as I was about to jump, someone called out to me. I turned to look, and it was a very beautiful woman. Her voice trembled uncontrollably: “Child, you can’t play there. Come here, Auntie will take you to your mom and dad.” I politely thanked her, then asked, “Auntie, if I jump from here, will I fly to heaven?” “I asked many people, and they all said dying means flying to heaven.” “Mom always says I’m a jinx and tells me to die. I don’t want Mom to be unhappy all the time…” The woman was scared but didn’t dare to make any sudden moves. She extended her hand towards me: “Child, come here, Auntie will take you home.” I shook my head: “No, Auntie, Mom will be unhappy if she sees me again. I don’t want Mom to be unhappy.” I didn’t say anything more, gathering strength and leaping towards the sky. Mom, don’t be angry. I listened to you. I’m obediently going to die. But it wasn’t quite what I imagined. My body plummeted rapidly. Through the window, I saw Mom affectionately kiss Chloe’s forehead. Mom’s gaze briefly flickered towards the window. I wanted to wave to Mom, but the speed of my descent was too fast. Before I could even reach out, Mom disappeared from my sight. A flicker of shock crossed Mom’s eyes. Someone beside her shouted, “Someone jumped!” Mom seemed disbelieving: “Chloe, where’s your sister?” Mom scanned the banquet hall, but didn’t see me anywhere. She panicked, quickly running to the window to look. As my eyelids closed, I saw Mom. Her eyes seemed to be filled with tears, and her lips were moving. Mom, did I do something wrong again? If not, then why are there tears in your eyes?

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After Dad went bankrupt, Mom was demanding a divorce. I didn’t fight or argue, just watched coldly as my younger brother Asher pushed me aside and ran to Dad: “Don’t be sad, Dad. I’m here for you!” In my past life, after Mom and Dad split up, Asher went with our wealthy mother while I stayed with our bankrupt father. But Mom remarried a real loser who not only squandered all her money but kicked her out too. Asher suffered right along with her. Meanwhile, Dad built a successful business and got rich again. Consumed by jealousy over my good fortune, Asher caused my death in a car crash. When I opened my eyes again, we’d both gone back to the day the divorce was finalized. This time, Asher gave me a provocative smile and quickly announced, “I love Dad, and I want to go with him.” He had no idea I was smiling even wider inside. I was so done with running and hiding all the time! Asher looped his arm through Dad’s, pouting playfully. “Dad, please let me stay with you! I love you more than anyone, and I’m not scared of hard times.” Coming from Asher—who’d been spoiled rotten and totally self-centered his whole life—those words actually moved Dad. He didn’t even notice Mom’s furious expression beside them. “No way! Asher will suffer if he stays with you. The court will side with me for custody,” Mom stepped forward to object. So Asher would suffer with Dad, but I was just some afterthought? Disposable? In the courtroom, they fought tooth and nail over Asher’s custody, with lawyers throwing around all kinds of documents. I might as well have been invisible—a ghost in the room, completely ignored. In the end, maybe it was Asher’s own firm declaration to the judge that made the difference. Mom reluctantly settled on me, like an afterthought. I got into my stepfather Mr. Waylon’s sleek luxury car with Mom. Asher skipped along, holding Dad’s hand. Before we left, he shot me a smug, challenging look. I didn’t care one bit. After all, Mom was loaded now, and Dad’s situation was a total disaster. In my past life, he dragged me from one hideout to another every day just to avoid creditors. I couldn’t focus on school at all. The business failure and Mom leaving hit him really hard. He completely checked out, drowning himself in cheap booze in our run-down apartment, ignoring everything. Even though I was a straight-A student, I couldn’t afford tuition and had to take care of him, forcing me to drop out early and get a job. Asher, though? He had it way easier than me. He was good-looking and knew how to charm our parents. They both spoiled him rotten. Plus, being the younger one, they always used that old line: I was the big sister, so I had to be responsible and always put my little brother first. Even after the divorce, both parents only wanted him. But this time, he ultimately chose Dad, giving Dad a moment of petty triumph in front of Mom. Sitting in the car, Mom immediately started complaining. “You’re always so quiet and withdrawn. Now that we’re moving in with Mr. Waylon, you need to learn to be more flexible, more clever.” Whatever. The car pulled into an upscale neighborhood with mansions. I knew Mr. Waylon was rich in my past life, but I hadn’t realized he was this loaded. Mr. Waylon enrolled me in the city’s most prestigious private school. I had a private driver taking me to and from school every day. To make up for the education I’d lost in my past life, I hit the books hard. I excelled, maintaining a perfect GPA. Mom, who’d always ignored me before, suddenly couldn’t wait to attend parent-teacher conferences. When she went, other parents would envy her, and teachers would praise her for having such an outstanding kid. And since Mr. Waylon had no kids of his own, I was living pretty comfortably here. I also started thinking about studying abroad. “You’re too young to go overseas. Don’t think good grades mean you can actually take care of yourself.” Before Mr. Waylon could even say anything, my own mother was already shooting down the idea. Later, I learned that real hatred doesn’t need a reason. Not even between a mother and her child.

Mr. Waylon wasn’t the moody, controlling, violent monster Mom and Asher had made him out to be in my past life. In fact, he was incredibly sharp—though definitely proud and strong-willed. It didn’t take long after we moved in for his issues with Mom to surface. Mom was a total trophy wife—all looks, no substance. Honestly, her and Dad had been perfect for each other. Dad had been a trust fund kid with more money than sense. He’d landed Mom purely with his charm and fat wallet. When Grandpa and Grandma were alive, they kept everything together. After they passed, Dad got roped into terrible investments by his so-called “friends.” He gambled away his entire inheritance—everything Grandpa and Grandma left him. Mom immediately found a new sugar daddy and divorced him. My study abroad plans were on hold thanks to Mom’s meddling. But with my grades, I was confident I could get into a top local university. “Asher’s here!” “Ms. Evans, is Mom home?” “Your mom went shopping, but your sister’s upstairs reading.” I heard Asher’s footsteps heading toward my room. He opened my door without knocking. “Leo, cut the act. Nobody’s home—who are you trying to impress with all this studying?” He walked right in and snatched my books. Asher was supposed to be living with Dad, yet almost every month he’d show up demanding money from Mom, plus jewelry and clothes. Every time he left, his car would be loaded up. But the next month, he’d still be wearing ratty clothes. Dad, now a full-blown gambling addict, had long since pawned all his nice stuff for cash to blow. In this life, Dad wasn’t just a drunk—he was a gambler too. Mom actually felt sorry for Asher living such a hard life with Dad. She even talked to Mr. Waylon about letting Asher move in with us. Mr. Waylon actually agreed, but surprisingly, Dad refused to let Asher go. After all, he was using Asher to milk Mom for stuff to fund his lifestyle now. “You’ve studied yourself stupid. What’s the point of all these books? You’re not as good-looking as me, and even Mom and Dad don’t really like you.” “And this good life you’re living? I handed it to you on a silver platter. Enjoy it while it lasts, ’cause it won’t.” He started rummaging through my stuff like he owned the place. He wasn’t wrong—this room had been his in my past life. He searched everywhere. “You don’t even know how to enjoy the good life. What kind of crap is this you’ve got?” “All you do is bury your head in these books every day.” I ignored him, letting him throw his little tantrum. “Is that my sweet Asher I hear?” I watched coldly as they put on their ‘loving mother and son’ act. Mom saw my room was completely trashed. “What good stuff could you find in her room? Come on, let’s go to my room—I just bought tons of clothes and jewelry. Take whatever you want.” With that, she dragged Asher out. She didn’t even look at me, let alone say something like “Are you okay?” Ms. Evans, the housekeeper, brought up a glass of fresh orange juice. She came into my room and started tidying up like it was nothing. “I’ve never seen such a biased mother.” Whatever. Her good times were about to run out anyway.

A few days later, I heard a huge argument downstairs. “You absolute disgrace! Living off my money, wearing my clothes, and you still have the nerve to cheat on me!” Mr. Waylon backhanded Mom hard across the face. Asher immediately jumped in to break it up. Mr. Waylon was so mad he shoved Asher to the floor. “And don’t get me started on your precious son! Didn’t we agree—one kid each?” “Why does he keep showing up here, and every time he does, half my stuff goes missing!” Mom shot back, “My son is taking my things. It’s none of your business!” “Yours? Look at yourself! Everything you’re wearing, every piece of jewelry—I bought it all! Now I have to support your whole freeloading family?!” “Mr. Waylon, how dare you lecture me! If you weren’t sterile, would I even be in this mess?!” Mom’s words pushed Mr. Waylon over the edge. He lost it completely, grabbing Mom’s stuff and throwing it everywhere. She tried to stop him but ended up getting pushed down too. No one in the house dared to interfere. Asher hid in the corner, too scared to move. Mr. Waylon had married Mom because she was beautiful and already had two kids. After we moved in, he treated me more like a protégé—someone he could mentor and trust. But in my past life, Mom had taken advantage of that trust, recklessly wasting Mr. Waylon’s money. Asher, good-looking as he was, had zero common sense. That alone wouldn’t have been so bad. But these two—greedy and stupid… Not only was Mom cheating, but Asher was going around telling everyone Mr. Waylon’s entire fortune would one day be his. Word got back to Mr. Waylon fast. He wasn’t even dead yet, and they were already eyeing his money. Anyone would be ticked off. Mr. Waylon had no choice but to bring in his niece Rachel to train as his business assistant, and kick Mom and Asher out. In this life, Mom still got thrown out. But Mr. Waylon didn’t kick me out. “Leo, you’re better off with me than with your short-sighted, ignorant birth mother.” All my hard work had paid off. Mr. Waylon knew I was smart, driven, and had good judgment. I always put his interests first, consulting him before making any big decisions. I even casually mentioned that I saw him more like a father figure. Of course, my shopaholic mother had no clue about any of this, and she didn’t care anyway. Mom refused to leave, saying she’d rather die than step out of the house. She had no idea who she was dealing with. A self-made man like Mr. Waylon was nothing like my spineless trust-fund father. He wouldn’t fall for her little games. “Ms. Evans, go to the bedroom and pack some of her clothes.” Then he called security. And just like that, Mom and Asher got escorted out. As Mr. Waylon walked past my room, he patted my shoulder. “Leo, focus on your studies. This grown-up drama isn’t your problem.” I nodded. Idiots. No matter how many chances they got, they’d always be this stupid. My life wasn’t affected at all—in fact, Mr. Waylon started trusting me even more. Mom tried to get me to beg Mr. Waylon to take her back. Of course I said no. She called every day, screaming the most horrible things at me. Ms. Evans heard her once and wondered if I was even her real kid. In Mom’s eyes, only Asher existed. Without Mom’s money, Asher’s life got rough. He flunked all his classes and hated school. Dad just let him drop out. But Dad was drowning in debt, and their lives were a total mess. I was focused on studying for college entrance exams. Mr. Waylon had been super busy lately, barely ever home. Not long after, some thugs jumped me on my way to school. Our car was in the shop that day, so I was walking home alone. Right after school, a woman blocked my path. “You Leo?” Before I could answer, someone covered my mouth from behind and dragged me into an old warehouse. As soon as they took the blindfold off, someone kicked me to the floor. “Well, well, big brother. Enjoying life in that fancy house?” Asher walked over, looking down at me like I was dirt.

Asher backhanded me hard. “You bastard. I seriously underestimated you. That old man treats you like a king, and you’re still living there even after Mom got kicked out.” “I want to know exactly what you did to pull this off.” He pulled out a pocket knife, waving it inches from my face. When they saw he had a real knife, the other girls got nervous and stepped in. Maya was Asher’s delinquent girlfriend. Those other girls might have been troublemakers, but they weren’t about to get mixed up with weapons. Maya stepped in to break it up. “Asher, knock it off with the knife. He’s still your brother.” “This piece of trash? He’s not my brother.” He spat right in my face. But he did put the knife away, at least. They beat me until I couldn’t stand, then finally let me go. I limped to a taxi and headed back to the mansion. Only Ms. Evans was home, and she looked horrified when she saw me. “You left this morning perfectly fine. What happened to you?” I was covered in bruises. She cleaned me up gently. That evening, Mr. Waylon showed up after being gone for a while—with Mom, all dressed up like nothing had happened. They’d gotten back together. When Mr. Waylon saw me, he asked what happened. Mom, standing next to him, snapped: “Always getting into trouble. Never learning. Not like your brother, who knows how to behave.” He had his goons beat me up this afternoon, and now he’s walking around our house like he owns the place. “Mom, why don’t you ask who did this to me?” I shot back, angry. “Who else? You must have been messing with the wrong people…” “Leo, what happened?” Mom kept badmouthing me, but Mr. Waylon cut her off. I pointed at Asher. “He had a bunch of guys jump me right outside school.” “Are you crazy? What kind of lies are you telling?” Asher acted all innocent, trying to turn it around on me. I told Mr. Waylon and the police there might be security cameras near the school entrance and the warehouse. The police checked the footage and found Asher’s group on camera. They didn’t catch the actual beating, but it was enough to show what happened. Mr. Waylon looked shocked. He couldn’t believe someone would hire people to kidnap and beat their own brother. “This is sick. This isn’t just some prank.” “How does that prove Asher did it? Leo, you’re unbelievable! I know I haven’t been around much lately, but you don’t have to frame your brother like this!” Mom tried to turn it around, blaming me instead. “Asher, do you know these people?” Asher denied it, saying he was just passing by and had nothing to do with it. “Mom, you have to believe me.” Asher, looking even more upset, suddenly slapped me. I didn’t see it coming. After hitting me, he collapsed into fake sobs. The whole time, he played the victim while I was the one who’d been beaten. “Look what you did! You made your brother pass out! You’re so cruel—I don’t know why I ever had a monster like you!” She helped Asher to his room and even called the family doctor. I was hurt and bleeding, and she didn’t even say a word to me.

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On our wedding night, my wife, Sarah, wouldn’t let me touch her. She said she was too tired and asked me to wait a while. But every night, in the dead of night, she’d sneak downstairs to the basement. When she returned, she’d always shower, and an eerie, unsettling smell would cling to her. I asked her what she was doing. She said she was doing yoga. Yoga in the middle of the night? I couldn’t take it anymore. One night, I secretly followed her down to the basement. She spotted me, spun around, and grabbed the collar of my pajamas, yelling: “Get up here!” “You can’t go into the basement!” “Otherwise, we’re getting a divorce!” I clutched the stair railing, trembling with anger. My parents bought this house for us as a wedding gift. This is my home! Why can’t I go into my own basement? As my wife, who does she think she is talking to me like that? I took a deep breath, trying to keep my cool. “Sarah, is that how you talk to me?” Sarah still had a tight grip on my pajama collar, her slender fingers surprisingly strong. “Mark, let’s go upstairs first. I’ll explain everything in the bedroom.” “You can’t explain it here?” I pointed to the pitch-black basement below. “Why can’t I go down there? Don’t I have a right to know?” “I’m doing yoga, and that’s my private space down there. It’s not time to share it yet.” She stepped down a few stairs, blocking my path with her body. “Why?” “Because it’s just not the right time. When it’s ready for you to see, I promise I’ll show you!” My gut twisted with frustration. I took another deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. “If that’s the case, did you really have to snap at me like that?” “I…” She bit her lip. “I was just a little worked up, you know? Besides, you know I’m direct; you’re used to that.” I scoffed and turned to go upstairs. Fine, I’d wait until she left for work tomorrow, then I’d check out what was really going on down there. Back in bed, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. There had to be something fishy going on in that basement, something serious. Was it a secret Sarah didn’t want anyone to know? I looked at her. She was also awake, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. I remembered how shocked I’d been when she first asked me out. She was so beautiful, with so many guys after her, while I was just an average-looking guy. What did she even see in me? She’d said she liked my kindness, my quiet demeanor, and the sense of calm I brought her. I believed her. But if that was true, why did she push me away every night? I’m her husband, after all. Was this normal? Finally, I couldn’t hold back. I reached out, wanting to gently caress her cheek. “What are you doing?!” She pulled away like she’d been burned, glaring at me with disgust. The kind of look you give something revolting. I suddenly got it, and angrily turned away. But I couldn’t let that insult slide. If she didn’t have feelings for me, why did she ask me out? Why marry me?! Thinking that, I spun around, glaring at her. “You said you needed time, that we couldn’t be too intimate yet, and I get that. But why such a strong reaction when I just touched you?” “How many times have I explained this? It’s a psychological thing. I’m looking for a therapist, aren’t I? You need to be patient.” Sarah picked up her phone and gently tapped my shoulder with the back of it—she wouldn’t even touch me with her hand. “Mark, please, just give me six months, okay? After six months, I promise I’ll be better.” She tapped me with her phone, not even her hand. Was I really that repulsive to her? Could I even believe her? But right then, I had no choice but to wait. I sighed and rolled over. Truth is, I’d given her everything. From the start of our relationship, I’d done whatever she wanted. She said she liked jewelry, so I bought her expensive necklaces. She wanted to travel, so I took her everywhere. She mentioned investing, so I supported her learning about finance. I gave her everything I had, did my best to get her whatever she wanted. But this is what I got after the wedding. It all had to connect to that basement! I had to find out what was going on!

Morning came. As usual, I made breakfast—Sarah’s favorite. She stayed distant, eating silently without a word to me. Felt like I was her maid, not her husband. After breakfast, I drove her to work. We both worked in sales at the same perfume company, Serenity Scents. After parking, she walked into the building. Once she was out of sight, I quickly told a coworker I’d be out and left the office. I didn’t take my car—instead, I hailed a cab home. I unlocked the front door, rushed into the living room, and headed straight for the basement. When I got there, I froze. The basement door was different! At some point, it had been replaced with a reinforced door with a combination lock! Without the code, there was no way in! I pulled out my phone, took a picture of the door, and started looking up how to open this kind of lock. “What are you doing?!” Sarah suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, yelling. She hadn’t trusted me and had followed me home! She practically ran down the stairs and slapped me hard across the face. “What did I tell you?!” “You hit me?!” I held my stinging cheek. She continued to yell, “What did I tell you?!” I yelled back, “This is my house! Don’t I have the right to go in? And you couldn’t even tell me you were changing the door?!” “I was just about to tell you!” She raised her hand, ready to strike again. I dodged the slap and pulled out my phone. “I’m calling the cops!” My cheek burned, and I was shaking with anger. We’d barely been married, and she was already hitting me? What was going to happen next?! Sarah panicked immediately, grabbing my hand. “Why are you calling the police?” “This is my house, why won’t you let me in? Why did you hit me just now? Why can’t I call the police?!” I insisted on dialing 911. “Mark, don’t get so upset.” Her voice softened. “I… I was just acting on impulse.” “You get impulsive, so you hit me?” I pulled my hand away. “Let go! I’m calling the police!” She grabbed my hand again. “Mark, is calling the police really necessary? If you think this isn’t working, we can get a divorce.” Divorce?! Hearing that, I stepped back and fell silent. Things were bad, but I didn’t think we were at divorce level yet. Besides, if we split, this house—marital property—would probably get divided, and my parents’ investment would go to waste! There was no way I was letting that happen! “If we get divorced, I’ll get half this house,” Sarah added. “If you don’t want a divorce, we keep things the way they were. Now go back to work.” After thinking it over, I shot her a dirty look and headed upstairs. I had no choice—I couldn’t let my parents’ savings go to waste! “Come back!” I stopped and turned around. “You disrespected me. Don’t you think you owe me an apology? And a promise?” Sarah demanded. I was so mad I punched the stair railing. Blood started gushing from my hand. I gave her one last angry look and left quickly. “Mark, what’s up? You look terrible.” When I got back to the office, my coworker David asked. I mumbled I was fine, sat down, and opened my laptop. My right hand was bandaged, so I had to use my left. I kept my right hand under the desk so David wouldn’t see it. “Hey!” David came over, sat next to me, clapped my shoulder, and winked. “Don’t overdo it on the honeymoon, man. You look exhausted.” I forced a laugh. If only that were the problem. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, and we’ve got that team-building thing. It’s family-friendly, so they want everyone to bring their spouse or partner,” David reminded me. “Missing the main activities could mess with our team’s evaluation and bonus.” I didn’t care about team-building, but I didn’t want to lose my bonus. Sarah, though, loved this stuff—she never missed company events. “If Sarah goes, I’ll go,” I said. “I just asked her, and she’s not going. If that’s the case, you two will lose this month’s bonus!” “I’ll go talk to her.” I stood up and walked to the next cubicle area where she worked. I went in and saw her chatting with two female coworkers. Two months ago, there was a hit-and-run right outside our building—some driver hit a few coworkers and took off. They still hadn’t caught him. The girls were talking about it casually. I walked right up to Sarah and quietly asked, “Are you going to the company team-building event?” “No,” she answered coldly. I whispered again, “If you don’t go, we’ll lose our bonus.” “So what if we do?” “I just don’t think we need to throw away money over this—” “Are you serious?!” Sarah suddenly yelled. “I’m staying home, end of story!” Her voice echoed through the office, and everything went quiet. All the coworkers stared at me, shocked. My face burned—I wanted to crawl under a rock. She’d just yelled at me like that in front of everyone at work! What else could I say? I hung my head and walked away. In that moment, all my fantasies about Sarah died. “Mark, hey, sorry I pushed you about that earlier.” When I got back to my desk, David put his arm around my shoulder and apologized quietly. “It’s fine.” I suddenly remembered something, picked up my phone, and sent him a picture. “David, you know a lot of people. Can you help me figure out how to open this kind of reinforced combination lock door?” David checked his phone, looked at it for a second, and nodded. “Sure, I know a guy who does this stuff. I’ll ask him for you.”

Evening came again. While making dinner, I checked the security camera app on my phone. Just like this morning, the camera was still broken. Had Sarah done this on purpose? I finished cooking and brought the food to the dining room. Sarah got home carrying a cake, but she was acting weird—hiding it from me, tucking it away in the pantry. I caught a glimpse anyway: a fancy French mousse cake. I paused. It wasn’t her birthday or mine. What was she up to? She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. During dinner, we barely spoke. She acted like a restaurant customer, me like the server. By bedtime, my right hand needed a new bandage. I carefully unwrapped it, put on antiseptic cream, and re-bandaged it myself. Sarah lay next to me, completely ignoring me. “By the way, Mark, what have you decided?” Sarah suddenly asked. I was startled. “Decided about what?” “About the divorce, I mean. Have you thought about it?” she asked again. I scoffed. What was she really after? Did she marry me just for this? I shot back, “What do you think? Do you want a divorce?” Sarah stayed quiet. “If you’re not happy with our marriage, just say so,” I said flatly. “I won’t stop you.” Sarah’s expression darkened. She suddenly turned away from me. “Go to sleep, just go to sleep!” “You said to give you time, that once your psychological issues got better, things would be fine. Remember?” I said pointedly. “We’ll see,” she said sharply. “I’m tired, just go to sleep!” I finished getting ready for bed, turned off the light, and lay down. We shared a bed but lived separate lives—this was pure torture. But for now, I had to tough it out. I must have dozed off without realizing it. Maybe it was muscle memory or just my subconscious at work, but I woke up in the middle of the night. Moonlight filtered into the bedroom—not bright, but enough to see by. I turned my head, and Sarah was gone! She must have snuck down to the basement for her “yoga” again. As I rolled over to get up, I heard a clink and my left wrist suddenly felt heavy! I tugged, and saw a silver handcuff locked around it—the other end chained tightly to the bedpost! Clank! I pulled with all my strength; my wrist burned, but it wouldn’t budge! “Are you kidding me?!” I was livid! Sarah had handcuffed me just to go to the basement! She wasn’t even treating me like a person! Just then, I heard footsteps outside! Sarah was back! In a split second, I flopped back down, pretending to be sound asleep. A minute later, Sarah tiptoed over and sat carefully on the edge of the bed. She gently lifted my left hand, unlocked the cuff, unhooked the chain from the bed, and stashed it away—hardly making a sound. When she was done, she lay back down. Like she was checking if I was awake, she tapped my shoulder lightly with her phone. I didn’t move, keeping up the “asleep” act. She exhaled, apparently relieved, and finally settled in. I caught a whiff of her shower gel, plus a faint cake smell. And mixed in with those was that weird, unidentifiable odor. Had Sarah taken the cake to the basement? Was she eating cake during her “yoga”? Or was there something else hidden down there? I couldn’t make sense of it. Soon, she was breathing softly. I couldn’t sleep though—just lay there staring at the ceiling. Morning came. When I looked in the mirror, I had huge dark circles. I wasn’t exactly a model, but I usually kept myself presentable. Seeing how run-down I looked made me feel even worse. I had to end this—if things kept going like this, the stress would break me. After breakfast, I checked the living room trash can specifically. There was a cake box in there! It was definitely the one Sarah brought home last night! So who ate the cake? Was someone hiding in the basement?! My heart raced. Was Sarah hiding someone down there? Her lover?

“Mark, I heard back from my friend!” David grabbed my arm as soon as I got to the office, talking loudly. With other coworkers around, I quickly shushed him. He laughed, covering his mouth, then leaned in close. “My friend says she can get that door open!” Perfect! I was thrilled. Once the nearby coworkers left, I pulled David over and whispered, “David, I need a favor.” He raised an eyebrow. “C’mon, we’re friends—just say the word!” I checked the office door to make sure no one was coming, then put my arm around his shoulder and murmured in his ear. He nodded as I spoke. “Leave it to me!” We talked it over for ten minutes, then he took off. I stayed at the office, waiting. While I waited, I noticed Sarah sneaking glances my way a few times. She was obviously keeping an eye on me, making sure I wasn’t planning to sneak home again like before. At eleven, David texted: Sorry, couldn’t get the door open. Felt like someone was inside—right when we almost had it, they locked it again. My stomach dropped. We’d underestimated Sarah! Now what? Should I call the cops? If I didn’t, whatever was in that basement would stay a secret forever. But if I did… what if there was nothing? Our relationship would be totally ruined! What was I supposed to do? Quitting time came again. I drove Sarah back to the house. As soon as I pulled into the driveway, she lunged at me—scratching my face, yanking my hair. No warning, just attacking me out of nowhere! “What the hell are you doing?!” I yelled, covering my face. She didn’t say a word—just kept hitting me harder and harder. My face and head burned; I was scared she might actually hurt me badly if this kept up. I fumbled with the seatbelt, unbuckled it, and tried to open the door to get out. She latched onto my arm with one hand to stop me, while the other kept attacking—scratching, punching, hitting my face and body! The pain was too much, so I started yelling for help. She clamped her hand over my mouth to muffle me. Then I remembered the small scissors in the glove compartment. I fumbled it open, grabbed them, and held them up toward her! “Ah!” She yelped and finally backed off. I gasped for air, glaring at her. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she was clutching her left wrist—it was bleeding badly, cut by the scissors! My face throbbed and my head was spinning. “Why the hell did you attack me?” I shouted. “You had it coming!” she snapped. “Had what coming?” “You know exactly why!” Then it hit me—she must have found out I tried to get someone to open the basement door! “You sneaky bastard!” She pointed at me, venom in her voice. “I warned you to stay away from the basement, to leave it alone!” “This is my house! My parents bought it!” I shot back. “And I told you to give me six months! That after six months, things would get better! Don’t you remember?” “I don’t believe a word you say! With that attitude, in six more months you’ll probably kill me!” I’d hit my breaking point. When you can’t take it anymore, you just can’t.

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Adrian has a saliva allergy. Even the slightest contact with someone’s lips would cause his whole body to break out in hives. At our wedding, when the officiant asked us to kiss, just one light touch sent him into shock and straight to the hospital. During sex at night, he makes me wear a mask, terrified of coming into contact with my saliva. Rumors spread like wildfire. People said I had bad breath, that I carried bacteria, that I was the reason a perfectly good man had to be so cautious. To protect his pride, I silently endured all the speculation. Later, at a New Year’s party, he lost a game and took his punishment—holding alcohol in his mouth and passing it directly into his girl best friend’s mouth. After the drink was passed, they kept kissing. Adrian’s eyes were full of desire. Watching the lipstick mark on his lips and the strand of saliva between them, my heart sank. That’s when I realized his saliva allergy was only for me. If I hadn’t happened to be at that bar that night, I never would have seen it. Adrian, who claimed to be working overtime at the office, was now holding alcohol in his mouth and passing it without hesitation into Jessica’s mouth. After the drink was transferred, everyone around them started chanting, “Kiss! Kiss!” And Adrian actually did it, egged on by the crowd. He closed his eyes and they changed positions several times. When things got heated, he even used his tongue. I froze. At our wedding, a crowd had also chanted for Adrian to kiss me, but he’d flatly refused, citing his saliva allergy. Fighting back tears, I walked toward them. I hadn’t gone far when I bumped into the bar counter and fell. Glasses shattered everywhere with a loud crash. Everyone’s eyes shot in my direction. The two people who’d been making out stopped. Jessica walked over like a victor, reaching out as if to help me up. “Clara? What happened? Did you fall?” I slapped her hand away. “Get away from me!” But Jessica put on a pitiful expression. “Clara, please don’t be angry. We were just playing a game. You know Adrian and I have been like this since we were kids…” I swung my hand to slap her, but Adrian showed no regard for my situation and pulled Jessica behind him. “This is just a casual gathering with friends and there are so many people here. Have you made enough of a scene? Go home!” I laughed bitterly and walked step by step to sit among that group of friends. “A gathering with friends? As your wife, don’t I deserve a seat at the table?” Instantly everyone fell silent. The two people sitting closest to me instinctively pulled away. “She has bad breath and H. pylori, and she still has the nerve to play games with us! Aren’t you afraid of infecting us?” One of Jessica’s girlfriends spoke up indignantly. The others exchanged glances. I looked at Adrian. He sat next to Jessica, laughing along. Because Adrian had refused to be intimate with me all these years, rumors about me having bacteria and bad breath had run rampant. For the sake of his reputation, I’d never explained or defended myself. Yet now his friends could mock me with these private matters as if they were jokes. And he wouldn’t stand up to defend me. I pulled out my medical records. “Look closely. I don’t have any bacteria or bad breath. So I’m playing this game too!” Adrian jumped in to stop me. “Don’t be ridiculous! You’re pregnant!” “And you have a saliva allergy! But that didn’t stop you from kissing whoever you wanted!” Instantly, many curious eyes turned our way. Adrian’s ears turned bright red. He grabbed my arm, trying to shut me up. I stayed silent, and he stopped trying to prevent me from joining. The dice shook violently in my hand. I casually lifted the cup. “Three sixes!” The highest possible roll. Everyone was stunned, including Adrian. He rarely brought me to gatherings with friends. He had no idea I was good at this. “I won!” Jessica, who’d been sitting on Adrian’s lap moments ago, now looked like a startled chicken. “Jessica, I noticed you really enjoy mouth-to-mouth action. How about doing it with Marcus too!” The game rules were simple: the winner could make anyone present do a dare. She couldn’t refuse, but clearly didn’t want to. Adrian had told me that Marcus used to be Jessica’s devoted admirer. It would be nice to let him have his wish. But Adrian spoke up for her. “Clara, Jessica’s shy. Let’s skip this round!” I heard my own voice crack. “A deal’s a deal! Why is it okay for Jessica to kiss you but not someone else?” Jessica’s fists clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms. “Clara, it’s just a game. Don’t make things difficult for Jessica!” To plead for her, Adrian pushed me into the villain’s role. My lower abdomen started cramping again, but I couldn’t back down now. “She just had bad luck. How is that my fault?” Jessica couldn’t take it anymore. She ran out in fury. Adrian stood up too, leaving only one vicious sentence: “Happy now?” Then he chased after her. The whole gathering fell apart because of me. But strangely, I felt no victor’s joy—only growing emptiness. I staggered to my feet. The pain in my abdomen grew more intense. When I stumbled to the bathroom in panic, I discovered I was bleeding.

I don’t know how I got to the hospital. When I woke up, the doctor was already waiting impatiently by my ear. “Mrs. Lee, you’re hemorrhaging badly. We need to know whether to save you or the baby. Your husband needs to come sign the papers immediately!” I didn’t want to contact Adrian anymore. “Doctor… can I… sign myself?” The doctor shook her head. She said my own condition was critical—how could I make this decision? I could only force myself to call Adrian despite my nausea. At first the phone rang, but then it went straight to voicemail. “Bed 18! What are you doing? Where is he? Is he coming or not?” I helplessly dialed again and again. Ironically, while Adrian wouldn’t answer my calls, he posted on social media. It read: “Best friends till death!” The picture showed his and Jessica’s backs as they drank together. My head throbbed. My heart was dying. Soon after, Jessica sent me a video. In the video, on the bed I cleaned every day, torn clothes were scattered everywhere. Adrian and Jessica were tangled together. At the end, Jessica didn’t forget to text: “Clara, is something wrong? Adrian’s exhausted and fell asleep!” I hung up. A tear slid onto the white pillow. “Bed 18, your condition can’t wait any longer. You’re hemorrhaging badly. When is your husband coming?” The nurse was anxious again. I shook my head. “No one’s coming. My husband… he just died.” At my words, the nurse’s impatient expression turned to shock and sympathy. In the end, I signed the consent form for the abortion procedure alone and was wheeled into the operating room. I don’t know how long the surgery took. When I opened my eyes, my phone wouldn’t stop ringing. I looked—of course it was Adrian. I didn’t call back. I blocked his contact instead. During the four or five days I was hospitalized, no one came to my bedside. A nurse finally couldn’t stand it and hired a caregiver for me. While taking care of me, she asked, “Where’s your family?” My eyes went blank, staring into the distance. “In Harbor City. It’s far, and they’re old. I didn’t want them to make the difficult trip.” The caregiver patted my hand without saying anything. I suddenly missed home. My hand reached for my phone and unconsciously dialed Dad’s number. When I realized what I’d done, I quickly hung up. He must be frantically dealing with problems in Harbor City. I couldn’t let him see me like this. Soon, my father called back. I suppressed my longing and let it ring out. After being discharged, I rushed home to pack my things and leave. But I had the bad luck of running into Jessica.

When I opened the door and saw her, she was casually sitting in my usual spot on the sofa, sunflower seed shells scattered all over the floor. She wasn’t surprised to see me. She even invited me to sit down, as if she were the lady of the house. I kicked aside her shoes that were carelessly left by the door and walked straight to the bedroom without acknowledging her. She followed me in. “Clara, haven’t seen Adrian these past few days? Are you upset?” I treated her like air and opened the closet, only to discover that my belongings were just a few scattered items. “Don’t worry, Adrian’s doing great with me! He doesn’t really want to come back here either.” I still ignored her, silently filling my suitcase. Seeing my silence, she became irritated instead. She pointed at my nose and declared her territory: “Clara, I’m pregnant with Adrian’s baby. Step aside!” I really couldn’t understand this woman. One moment she said she and Adrian were just friends, the next she was telling me to step aside. But when she mentioned the baby, I thought of the little life that had belonged to me just days ago. My nose stung. I fought back the moisture in my eyes and forced a smile. “Really? Then congratulations!” “Clara, you’re really pathetic. I’m pregnant with his child and you still won’t leave? You can tolerate even this?” Slap! I struck her across the face, finally making up for what I’d missed at the bar that night. “Actually, I can’t tolerate it.” I said expressionlessly, “Even if I leave, it doesn’t mean you’ll ever get to climb above me.” Just then, I heard a key turning in the door. Perfect timing—Adrian had arrived. As soon as he saw the handprint on Jessica’s cheek, he started lecturing me without a second thought. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t answer calls, you don’t come home, and Jessica was worried about you and waited here for days. Now you’re bullying her again without even asking what happened!” “I’m bullying her?” I was too angry to have strength. I was too tired to explain. “Fine. Since you’re so protective of her, go be with her then!” At this point, Jessica started playing innocent again. “Adrian, is it because I’m here that Clara’s uncomfortable? She can’t stand me. I’ll just leave!” He grabbed Jessica’s hand. “Look at you, acting so childish when you’re about to be a mom. I’ve told you many times—Jessica and I are just friends. If there was something between us, would you even be in the picture?” He always said that. But whenever Jessica had a problem, he could drop everything and rush to her. On our engagement day, Jessica had just returned from abroad. One phone call and Adrian left all our relatives to pick her up at the airport. On our wedding day, Jessica couldn’t stand seeing us intimate. She threw a tantrum and disappeared. He stopped the entire wedding ceremony and searched every corner of the venue just to find her. This time was no different.

“Adrian, since you think I’m so childish, let’s get divorced!” “What did you say?” His tone was incredulous with a hint of mockery. “Sign the papers. Divorce. Isn’t Jessica pregnant with your child? She can legitimately become a mother!” I pulled out the divorce agreement I’d written in the hospital. “Clara, stop making a scene. How could Jessica be pregnant with my child!” Seeing my unwavering stance, he actually laughed. “Clara, you really want a divorce? Have you forgotten what your father told you?” He actually had the nerve to bring up my father! If Dad hadn’t been targeted by loan sharks back then, there’s no way Adrian would have gotten that funding from my father. There’s no way Adrian could have made a comeback and achieved his business success today. Back then, with his status, he never could have married me. It was Dad who asked Adrian to take me away from Harbor City, saying not to come back unless there was an emergency. So for these five years, no matter what trouble I encountered, I never went back. I obediently stayed by Adrian’s side, playing the role of his good wife. He knew this, which is why he was so unrestrained with me. Seeing no reaction from me, Adrian perked up. “Besides, even if you don’t think about yourself, you have to think about the baby in your belly. Following you around from place to place—would that be a good life?” Finally, he tore up my divorce agreement piece by piece. “So forget about divorce. Just be Mrs. Adrian and live carefree. Isn’t that nice?” “Fine!” I looked at Jessica without emotion. Her face looked terrible. She threw another tantrum for Adrian to comfort. I silently picked up those paper scraps and threw them in the trash. I knew Adrian too well. He would never sign this divorce agreement. So I stopped trying to get Adrian to agree to divorce. He thought I’d given up and let his guard down. While he was away on business, I hesitated for a long time before finally calling Dad. “Dad, your daughter’s in trouble. She really wants to come home.” In that instant, emotions I’d suppressed for so long finally poured out. I didn’t tell him what happened. He just said with infinite regret that he’d pick me up at the airport. I took one last look at this city I’d lived in for five years and entered the boarding gate.

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My wife Sera had started a new company in Britain and was looking for my investment. I went in undercover as a new hire to see it for myself. On my first day, I spotted a young man sauntering past, a cigar dangling from his lips, a glass of whiskey in his hand, swirling the ice. I stepped forward and confronted him. “Company policy strictly prohibits smoking and drinking in the office.” But the young man just threw the whiskey right in my face. “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?” I was about to retaliate, but the HR manager quickly stepped in to hold me back. Mr. Henderson cringed, bowing slightly toward the young man. “Mr. Shaw, my apologies! He’s a new employee who just started today and doesn’t know the rules!” Then, Mr. Henderson tugged at my sleeve. “Apologize to Mr. Shaw right now! Mr. Shaw is our CEO, Ms. Vance’s husband.” I just smiled and immediately sent Sera a message: “So you have a new husband. I assume he’ll be funding your company then?” Mr. Henderson’s face was plastered with a sycophantic grin as he turned to Damian. “Please don’t mind the new guy. I just bought a bottle of Lafite yesterday; I’ll have someone send it to your office.” Then, he shot me a warning glance and pulled me aside. “You have a full day’s work ahead. You’re not leaving until it’s done!” With that, Mr. Henderson ushered me into his office. Once the door was shut, he let out a sigh. “We desperately need someone with your talent. But remember, whatever you do, do not cross Damian Shaw in this company. He’s our Vice President and our CEO’s husband.” I nodded, not ready to reveal the truth just yet. But just as I sat down and started reviewing some financial statements, Damian’s angry shouts echoed from outside. “Sera Vance chased me for years, practically begged me to be her VP, and only then did I deign to marry her. And you, a worthless newbie, actually dared to disrespect me?” With that, the office door was kicked open. Damian, clearly drunk, propped his foot up on an office chair. He pointed to his Italian handmade leather shoes and sneered, “Newbie, wipe the dust off my shoes. Do that, and I’ll generously forgive you for this morning’s stunt!” Damian’s foot dangled provocatively in front of me. The sole just so happened to reveal a long, stamped serial number. Weren’t those the custom pair I’d had made for last month’s Global Investment Forum? I’d only worn them once before misplacing them somewhere. A smirk played on my lips. “How desperate are you, clinging to my sloppy seconds? You act like you’ve found gold.” “Custom shoes mold to the first wearer. They never fit another.” Damian’s face flushed crimson like a fighting rooster’s. He roared, “You broken loser, what the hell do you know? My wife, Sera Vance, bought these especially for me!” I scoffed. “Still second-hand!” Snickers from employees outside occasionally drifted in. Damian jumped up, yelling at Mr. Henderson. “Company regulations state that new employees must first intern on the production line. He walks in and dives straight into an office? Are you playing favorites? Do you want me to tell Sera Vance right now and get you fired too?!” After that, Damian stormed out of the office, shouting to the crowd outside. “Who the hell wants to get fired? Laughing during work hours? If I catch you, you’re GONE!” Done yelling, he flipped me off. “Go haul boxes in the factory, pretty boy! I’ll make you sweat blood till you beg for mercy!” With a final slam, he shut the office door. Mr. Henderson frowned, looking distressed. “Why’d you have to stir up trouble with that walking nightmare?” “You’ll have to go through the factory tour anyway. Just bear with him a little. Our company really needs talent like you. The benefits are good.” I actually wanted to see the factory. Vance Corp going bankrupt was inevitable. If I could acquire this entire facility for my own company, it would save me a ton of hassle. As soon as I stepped onto the factory floor, Damian had already arrived, yelling, “Come on out, everyone! New guy’s here! Come teach this newbie how to behave!” At this, many employees lowered their heads, nodding respectfully towards Damian. Just as Damian was basking in his glory, he noticed one employee hadn’t moved. He immediately started scolding Leo Maxwell, the production manager. “Didn’t you see everyone else bowing to welcome their boss? Why isn’t that employee moving from their station when they see me?” Leo patiently explained, “That station is crucial, it needs to be manned 24/7, or the production line will shut down!” Damian walked up and slapped Leo across the face. “I said, get him over here!”

Leo clutched his face, his eyes, initially filled with hurt, slowly hardening into anger. He shouted, his voice ringing out, “Security! Get Damian Shaw out of here! He’s disrupting production!” I secretly gave Leo a mental thumbs-up. This guy, I wanted him. Damian pulled out his phone, filming the workshop as he threatened, “Let’s see who dares? I’m Sera Vance’s husband!” Leo pointed at Damian’s phone. “Get his phone! Filming is strictly prohibited in the factory!” Damian kicked me in the butt. “Go beat up that ignorant idiot, and I’ll promote you to production manager today!” This guy, Damian, actually wanted to use me to do his dirty work? If I had really been just an intern, caught in this impossible situation, he might have actually trapped me. The kick sent me staggering forward a couple of steps before I regained my balance. I spun around and landed a punch on Damian. Damian roared in fury, giving an order. “Hit him!” The office building was already filled with Damian’s lackeys. At his command, they all rushed out, surrounding me in a thick crowd. I grabbed Damian by his collar and slammed his head into a rubber baton held by one of his bodyguards. Damian was on a video call with Sera, whining and complaining, “Sera, maybe I should just resign! Not only is that puny production manager messing with me, but even the new intern is bullying me!” Just then, Damian’s head hit the rubber baton with a dull THUD. Damian shrieked, “Ow! He’s killing me! This intern is trying to murder the CEO’s husband!” His phone clattered to the floor. Sera Vance, on the video call, had a face like thunder. She roared, “You’ve all lost your minds! Manager Maxwell from production is suspended, and that new intern is fired immediately! I have a very important meeting right now, I’ll deal with you all when I get back!” I leaned into the phone’s view for a moment, my voice calm. “If I were you, I’d come back right away. This meeting of yours isn’t important anymore. Vance Corp’s biggest problem isn’t finding investors, it’s how many days it has left.” Sera was stunned. “Why are you at the factory?” I spoke as evenly as I could. “I’m the intern you just fired!” “Get here within ten minutes. And you’d better explain why your ‘husband’ here is named Shaw.” Damian snatched my phone and smashed it to the ground, yelling at everyone in the factory, “Everyone at Vance Corp saw it!” “Mess with me, and my wife comes flying to my rescue. Now, you all kill this arrogant intern, and I’ll make sure there are no repercussions!” Even if I was a good fighter, being surrounded meant I was at a serious disadvantage. I quickly speed-dialed my bodyguards to hurry over. Damian grinned maliciously, signaling his bodyguards to swarm me. Several men pinned me down, forcing me to my knees. “So tough now, are you? Why aren’t you so tough anymore?” Damian punched me in the stomach. I gritted my teeth, glaring fiercely at him. “Still defiant? Get me a steel pipe!” Damian grabbed my hair, driving a fist into my face. “Let’s see how tough you are after I break your arm.” Just as he raised the steel pipe, a woman’s voice cut through the air, stopping him cold. “Alexander!”

It was Sera. Through the bodyguards, I saw her rushing in, her sky-high heels clicking frantically. “Where’s that intern?” “Right here.” Damian smugly stepped aside. “What’s this, any riff-raff can get into Vance Corp now?” “This bastard even dared to impersonate your husband.” Damian put his arm around Sera, not noticing her pale face. Sera pulled away from Damian’s arm, stumbling as she walked towards me. “Let me explain…” I spat out a mouthful of blood, staring intensely at her. “Explain what? Explain that you’re keeping a mistress on the side?” “Sera, what are you scared of?” Damian frowned. “He’s just an intern. It’d be easy to crush him, wouldn’t it?” “Shut up!” Sera roared, then SLAP, she slapped Damian across the face. Her voice trembled. “He’s the Chairman of our company!” “How dare you provoke him?!” Damian’s eyes widened in horror. “Chairman?! Then…” “So what?!” Damian’s expression changed. “Even if he’s the Chairman, we’re out here in the middle of nowhere. If we quietly get rid of him, who would ever know?” He slowly tried to coax her, “Are you content always being beneath him? If he dies, that position is yours.” A flicker of struggle crossed Sera’s eyes. I realized something was wrong and yelled, “Sera Vance, don’t you dare!” “What’s there to not dare?” Damian’s lips curled into a smile, and he viciously kicked me in the knee. “I told you, out here, I’m the law.” “You mess with me, you’ll go in walking, but you’ll be carried out in a body bag!” I looked at Sera, giving her one last chance. But she avoided my gaze, took the steel pipe Damian handed her, Her voice was thick with a conflicted regret. “You brought this on yourself.” “Don’t blame me.” “Blame yourself for showing up at the wrong time.” Just as she swung the steel pipe, a red dot appeared on Sera’s forehead. A violent gust of wind roared through, and a helicopter touched down on the lawn outside. One by one, armed bodyguards spilled out of the aircraft. “Nobody move!” My people had arrived!

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My husband came home with a nanny one day, and she had a five-year-old boy in tow. He told me the child was adopted from an orphanage. But late that night, in the basement, I saw Michael savagely making out with the nanny. “Thank you, my love, for giving me a son.” The nanny trembled, whimpering softly. “So when are you finally going to divorce her and marry me?” Five years ago, I was badly burned on my back saving Michael from a fire, leaving me unable to have children. He had held me then, crying hysterically, repeating over and over that it didn’t matter if we never had children, as long as he had me. It was all a lie. I stood in the shadows, a cold, mocking smile twisting my lips. That kind of man, tainted to the core, was not worth keeping. Victoria POV Michael and I had been married for nine years, known in our social circle as the quintessential power couple. That perception shattered completely the moment I saw Michael holding a five-year-old boy. The reason was simple: that child wasn’t mine. Michael, usually so aloof in public, was now softly coaxing the child in a doting tone. “Alex, listen to your mom.” My mind went blank with a loud buzz, as if I couldn’t hear anything else. Five years ago, I was badly burned on my back saving Michael from a fire, and I lost the ability to have children after that. I remember Michael kneeling by my hospital bed, clutching my hand tightly, his eyes red as he swore, “I don’t want children, Victoria, I only want you.” Those vows still echoed in my ears, yet the scene before me crushed everything. He was holding a child, a child he had with another woman, calling his name so tenderly. I clamped a hand over my mouth, desperate to stifle my sobs, and spun on my heel, fleeing. At the gallery entrance, my friend Jennifer looked startled by my pale face. I held her, my fingertips cold, my voice dry and hoarse. “Jennifer, I need you to look into Michael. He might have a son.” Only then did I finally understand: all these years he had held me like a precious treasure, it was all just a sweet, cruel deception. When I got home, I received a text from Michael. “Three more days until my business trip ends. Miss me?” followed by a kiss emoji. I stared at the message, tears streaming down my face. For the past five years, he’d always gone to Europe for a month every autumn. I always thought he was working tirelessly for his business empire, but now I understood. That month was for his other family. Outside, snow had begun to fall, silently blanketing the old oak trees beyond my window. I scrolled through the files Jennifer had sent. The woman’s name was Emma, and she’d grown up with Michael. He’d once gotten into a fight for her on the football field, breaking a bone. He’d bought her a rare antique wristwatch. He’d even defied his entire family to marry her. All those grand, dramatic gestures from our past… they just twisted the knife deeper into the gaping wound of his betrayal. My phone rang, Michael’s name flashing on the screen. I bit my lip hard, letting it ring again and again, but eventually, I answered with a trembling hand. “Why did it take you so long to pick up?” His voice on the other end was as gentle as ever. “Are you being disobedient again, not eating properly?” My fingers curled into fists. He used to hold me like this too, laughing softly as he asked, “Are you not eating properly again? If you get too thin, I’ll worry sick.” I shook my head. “No.” He would then kiss my earlobe, whispering with a low laugh, “Such a naughty girl? Victoria, do I need to keep an eye on you at all times?” I used to think we’d be like this forever. For the first time, I lied to him, my voice muffled, like I was genuinely sick. “A bit of a cold. I’m already in bed.” “A cold?” His tone immediately tensed. “Is it serious? I’ll fly back right now.” “No need.” I quickly stopped him, a hint of detachment in my voice that I hadn’t even realized was there. “I’ve taken medicine. I’ll be fine after a good sleep.” I was about to hang up when a woman’s languid, intimate voice came through the receiver. “Michael, Alex is asleep. We can-” The call was abruptly disconnected by Michael. He was with that woman right now. I stared at my silent phone, unable to hold back any longer, and burst into tears. Jennifer rushed into the room, pulling me into a heartbroken embrace. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here.”

Victoria POV When I opened my eyes again, the window outside was dazzlingly white. “Victoria, how are you feeling? Is there anything else bothering you?” I heard a familiar voice, and as soon as my eyes opened, I saw Jennifer’s face, etched with worry. Jennifer sat by the bed, her eyes bloodshot. She must have stayed up all night watching over me. “I’m fine.” Memories from before I passed out flooded my mind, and I forced myself to sit up. “I’m sorry to have worried you.” Jennifer nodded, her voice filled with lingering fear. “You scared me half to death yesterday. I was genuinely afraid you’d do something drastic.” Mid-sentence, my phone rang. I answered, my voice already calm. “Richard.” “Victoria, why is your voice a little hoarse? Did you pull another all-nighter?” “No, Richard. Isn’t the Zurich branch short on staff? I’d like to go help out there.” My father on the other end paused. “Why the sudden urge to go to Switzerland?” “I want a change of scenery.” I glanced out the window. “Jennifer is also going back next month. I want to go with her.” My father was silent for a long time, then finally sighed. “Alright, whatever you want.” I hung up, and Jennifer looked at me worriedly. “Are you really sure about this?” I nodded. The lawyer had emailed the draft of our divorce papers. I stared at the screen, every word stinging my eyes. I still hadn’t figured out how to bring it up with Michael. Too much bound us together: the business alliance between our families, decades of friendship. As I was leaving Jennifer’s apartment and getting into my car, I saw a familiar figure. Michael. Why was he here? Wasn’t he supposed to be away for three more days? The man wore a perfectly tailored custom suit, his figure tall and lean, but his eyes showed signs of fatigue. He walked quickly, opening the car door. “Your voice sounded off on the phone. I was worried, so I flew back last night.” He said, pulling me into his embrace. That embrace, which once brought me immense comfort, now made me tremble uncontrollably. My mind was filled with Emma’s voice and the image of that child calling him “Daddy.” I clenched my hands, forcing myself not to push him away. He used to hold me like this too, laughing softly as he asked, “What are you overthinking now? Hm?” I shook my head. “Nothing.” He pulled me closer, whispering with a low laugh in my ear, “My sweet little liar, you’re never allowed to leave me. No matter where you run, I’ll find you. Understand?” I used to think I could never escape, but this time, I wanted to leave on my own. “You look like you’ve lost weight.” He caressed my cheek with his thumb, his eyes full of tenderness. “Are you not eating properly again when I’m not home?” I couldn’t understand how a man who’d been with his mistress the night before could so calmly say such things to his wife. I didn’t want to explain, just shook my head. “No, I’m just a little tired.” I could see he was about to say more, but my gaze caught a slender figure standing a short distance away. Emma. She was in a white dress, her long hair loose over her shoulders, looking utterly fragile. Just then, Michael’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen; I saw it too. It was Emma calling. Michael’s face looked troubled. He quickly hung up and kissed my forehead apologetically. “Something urgent came up at the office. I have to go there. You wait for me at home, and tonight I’ll take you to your favorite Italian restaurant.” With that, he hurried into his car. After the car drove away, Emma slowly walked towards me in her high heels. “Ms. Victoria,” she said, introducing herself with a smile, her eyes full of scrutiny and challenge. Seeing me, Emma knew I had figured everything out, and the smile on her lips deepened. “It seems Ms. Victoria already knows about Alex and me.” She paused, her voice brimming with ill-concealed triumph. “Ms. Victoria, Michael’s wife will only ever be me.”

Victoria POV I took a taxi and followed Emma’s car to a private clinic. Her car had just pulled up to the entrance. I paid the driver and followed her inside. I walked to the end of the hallway and saw a boy lying in a hospital room. It was Alex. His face was pale, an IV drip in his arm. Michael was yelling at a doctor in a white coat. “Why did he suddenly get a high fever? Is this how you take care of patients?!” “Michael, calm down!” The doctor seemed quite familiar with Michael and tried to reason with him. “What good does it do to yell at me?!” I hid behind the wall, my heart growing colder with every word I heard. “I told you long ago, if you only want one child, you shouldn’t keep Emma around! And now? The child cries without her, and you can’t bring yourself to be firm. What kind of mess is this?” “Victoria is the only woman I love, but the family cannot be without an heir.” Michael’s voice was weary. “Emma… she did bear me a child, after all. I can’t treat her badly.” The moment he finished speaking, the hospital room door opened. Emma walked in, carrying a cup of water, her eyes red. As soon as she saw the child on the bed, tears began to fall. “It’s all my fault… I should’ve looked after Alex better.” She sobbed, shoulders trembling, looking utterly helpless. Michael’s heart softened. He stepped forward and pulled her into his embrace, murmuring comfort. “Don’t blame yourself. Alex is our child. I will find the best doctor.” “Our child.” The words hit me like a blow, crushing my heart. Emma leaned into his embrace, sobbing, “Michael, I know I shouldn’t ask for anything, but as long as I can be with Alex as he grows up, I’ll be perfectly content…” Michael was touched by her words and raised his thumb to wipe away her tears. That intimate gesture stung my eyes. I clenched my hands, my fingernails digging into my flesh, but I felt no pain. The pain in my heart had already overshadowed everything else. I turned and left, my steps numb. Snow had started falling again outside. The flakes landed on my face, melting into icy streaks, making it impossible to tell if they were snow or tears. I walked into the corporate building, drenched. The receptionist looked up, startled by my disheveled appearance. “Ms. Victoria, what happened? Should I call Mr. Michael? He’ll be heartbroken if he sees you like this.” Those words, which would sound normal to anyone else, were the greatest irony to me. Heartbroken? He was busy being heartbroken over another woman right now. I said nothing, walking directly into the conference room and locking the door. I leaned against the door, slowly sliding down until I was on the floor. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I buried my face in my knees and wept uncontrollably. I thought I had become numb, but seeing that little family of three with my own eyes had completely broken me. Nine years of love, a childhood sweetheart connection, those moments of life-and-death reliance… it all meant nothing compared to “the family cannot be without an heir.” I don’t know how long I cried. Only when my tears ran dry did I lean against the wall and stand up. I walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. My eyes were raw, my skin bloodless. A laugh escaped me. What was the point of crying? I changed into a spare business suit, transforming back into the aloof corporate heiress. I didn’t even glance at the string of messages and missed calls from Michael on my phone. In the evening, I dragged my exhausted body back to the mansion. I had decided: I would pack my things and leave tonight. But when I pushed open the front door, I saw Emma and Alex sitting in my living room.

Victoria POV The crystal chandelier in the living room shone brilliantly, but my gaze was utterly cold. Emma, dressed in a brand-new maid’s uniform, stood up immediately when she saw me and curtsied respectfully. “You’re back.” And the boy named Alex was busy smashing a limited-edition model car against the floor. It was from my favorite collection, one I’d worked hard to complete. “What is going on here?” My voice was as cold as ice. Michael hurried down from upstairs, forcing an unnatural smile. “Victoria, you’re back. This is… a nanny sent by my mother. She said the house was too empty, and she’s here to look after this child.” He gestured towards Alex, telling a pathetic lie. “My mother brought this child back from an orphanage. She felt sorry for him, so she brought him home to raise.” I was trembling with rage. “An orphanage? Michael, do you take me for a fool?” I pointed at the child, who was practically a carbon copy of him, my voice shaking. “Do you find it amusing to carve away at my heart, piece by piece, like this?” Seeing my genuine anger, Michael panicked. He stepped forward and grabbed my hand. “Victoria, don’t be angry,” he pleaded, eager to state his position. “If you don’t like him, I’ll send him away immediately!” His phony love only disgusted me. Alex seemed startled and suddenly burst into tears, pointing at me and screaming, “Bad woman! You’re bullying my mommy!” “Alex!” Michael snapped sternly. Emma immediately rushed over and hugged her son, then looked at Michael with red-rimmed eyes. “Sir, please don’t blame him. He’s just… he’s just shy around strangers.” Michael’s tone indeed softened. I looked at the glaring scene before me, feeling a chill run through my entire body. I yanked my hand free from Michael’s grasp and walked upstairs without a word. The bedroom door slammed shut, cutting off everything. Michael stood by the door for a while, murmuring a few comforting words, but when he heard no response, he turned and left. Not long after, my phone received a message. It was from Emma: “Ms. Victoria, if you lock Michael out, don’t blame him for coming to me for comfort.” I deleted the message and got up to leave the bedroom. The villa was quiet. I found myself walking towards the basement wine cellar door. It was ajar, a dim yellow light spilling out. I drew closer and distinctly heard a woman’s gasps and a man’s low grunts coming from inside. “Michael… be gentle… it hurts…” “Isn’t this what you asked for? Afraid of pain, yet you still tried to lure me down here?” Michael’s voice was hoarse and impatient, but his actions didn’t stop. “I’m warning you, Emma. Don’t provoke Victoria again, otherwise…” The woman’s moans drowned out the rest of his words. I froze in place, utterly cold. I lay back in bed just before dawn, staring blankly at the ceiling. Nine years of love, a whirlwind courtship. All of it shattered in this moment. This time, I was the one who didn’t want him.

Victoria POV The next morning, when I went downstairs, Emma had already taken off that irritating maid’s uniform. She wore a sea-green silk dress, her curves exquisitely outlined. Only then did I notice that Emma’s eyes and brows bore a slight resemblance to mine. No wonder Michael had chosen her. “You’re awake? Come have breakfast.” Emma greeted me warmly, as if she were the lady of the house. As she spoke, she deliberately turned sideways, revealing faint red marks on her neck, intimate and jarring. But what truly made my pupils constrict was the brooch pinned to her chest. A vintage brooch, set with a pigeon-blood ruby, dazzling and radiant. I recognized it. It was Michael’s family heirloom, passed down only to the lady of the house. I remembered years ago, Michael had asked his mother for this brooch for me, only to be coldly refused because I couldn’t have children. “A woman who can’t even bear children, how dare she wear our family’s heirloom?” His mother’s cutting words still echoed in my ears. And now, this brooch, symbolizing status and acceptance, was blatantly worn on the chest of a mistress. In that moment, I finally woke up. My previous notion of sparing the families decades of friendship, of not wanting to make things too ugly, seemed utterly ridiculous. It turned out that in his mother’s eyes, and even the entire family’s, Emma, the woman who could bear an heir, was already their recognized daughter-in-law. And I was merely a clown, kept in the dark, clinging to a position that wasn’t truly mine. Michael walked downstairs, dressed in fresh loungewear. He first exchanged a knowing glance with Emma, then quickly approached me, reaching out to feel my forehead, his face full of concern. “Why is your face so pale? Did you catch a chill last night? Don’t go to the office today, I’ll stay and keep you company.” I watched his brilliant acting, feeling a wave of nausea rise in my stomach. Staying with him for even one more second made me feel suffocated. He felt… dirty. “No need.” I coldly pushed his hand away. “There’s still a lot to do at the office.” Just then, Emma walked over with a cup of coffee, saying softly, “Michael, your coffee.” She naturally reached out to straighten his slightly disheveled collar. And Michael instinctively lowered his head, accommodating her actions. It was an incredibly familiar, habitual gesture. More hurtful than any deliberate display. The surrounding staff all gasped audibly. Michael also seemed to realize the impropriety and immediately stepped back, creating distance between himself and Emma. He picked up his jacket, walked to my side, and leaned down to press a light kiss on my forehead. “Wait for me to come back.” He used the same doting tone he had used last night in the wine cellar when speaking to the other woman.

Victoria POV After Michael left, I calmly finished my breakfast. I didn’t spare Emma another glance, walking straight upstairs to pack my luggage. All the things Michael had given me, filling an entire walk-in closet, were packed one by one. I called my assistant and instructed him to send them all to an auction house. “All proceeds are to be donated to charity in my name.” If I was going to cut ties, I would cut them completely. “Ms. Victoria, are you planning to run away from home?” Emma appeared behind me at some point, leaning against the doorframe, a triumphant smile on her face. “Well, a woman who can’t have children, occupying Michael’s wife’s position for so many years, it’s about time she made way.” Her words hit me squarely in my most painful spot. In the past, I might have been furious, lost control. But now, I just looked at her calmly. “Michael’s wife’s position? If you want it so badly, take it.” I pulled the already signed divorce papers from my bag and handed them to Emma. “Here.” Emma’s smile froze, her face a mask of shock as she stared at the document. I looked down at her, a hint of amusement in my voice. “You know how deep Michael’s feelings are for me. Getting him to willingly sign this won’t be easy.” I spoke like a queen bestowing a favor upon a petty schemer. “I’m giving you the divorce papers. If you’re capable, get him to sign it and bring it to me. If you’re not, then be prepared to be an unseen mistress for the rest of your life!” Emma’s face changed colors, but ultimately, temptation won over reason. She snatched the divorce papers, her eyes gleaming with greed and ecstasy. Though she felt suspicious of my swift and decisive relinquishment, she believed even more strongly that I was merely bluffing. How could a woman Michael had doted on for so many years truly be willing to let go? Watching Emma rush away with the document, a flicker of mockery crossed my eyes. After packing my last piece of luggage, I sat in the living room, quietly waiting for Jennifer to pick me up. My gaze swept across the empty living room, and I suddenly realized that I hadn’t seen Alex, the child, since morning. A faint unease stirred within me. Just then, the villa’s front door was violently pushed open from outside. Michael burst in, frantic, followed by his mother, Eleanor, her face ashen, and… Emma, weeping bitterly. “Victoria!” Emma came at me like a feral thing, slamming me hard toward the sharp corner of the side table. “Where is my Alex? What did you do to him?” The blow dazed me. My vision blurred as sharp pain shot through my elbow. I steadied myself and stared coldly at the frantic woman. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “How dare you lie!” Emma suddenly grabbed a fruit knife from the bowl, pressing its sharp tip to my throat. “You can’t stand my child because of some divorce papers? Victoria, how can you be so evil?”

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The company decided to downsize using what seemed like a fair method—an anonymous online vote. Whoever got the most votes would be let go. The boss gave us one day to cast our ballots. The next day, when Mr. Reid announced the results, I was shocked. The entire company had only 198 employees. All 197 votes went to me. I stood up with a bitter smile, ready to process my termination. But Mr. Reid stopped me. “Wait. Look at this first.” He opened the online voting system’s records. All 197 votes had been cast in the exact same second. I understood immediately—this wasn’t a fair vote at all! Mr. Harrison Reid announced: “The layoff is suspended for now. IT department, investigate this voting system first.” Then Harrison glanced at me. “Clara, you stay.” Vivian Matthews, the project manager, was the last to leave. As she passed by, she lightly patted my shoulder. “Clara, don’t worry. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.” I nodded. When only Mr. Reid and I remained in the conference room, he placed a document in front of me. “This is your performance record for the past six months.” I looked down. My rating was “Outstanding.” “Why do you think an employee with perfect performance reviews would be unanimously voted out by the entire company?” Harrison’s question hung in the air. I stayed silent, my mind racing. Vivian always presented my PowerPoint presentations during work reports as “our team’s results.” Technical problems I’d solved after working until midnight were claimed as her achievements the next day. Last quarter’s most important project—she screwed it up, and I pulled three all-nighters to salvage it. I thought if I just worked hard and treated people kindly, I’d eventually earn recognition. Turns out, in their eyes, my tolerance just meant I could be pushed around. “Mr. Reid, why are you helping me?” I looked up at Harrison. Harrison leaned back in his chair. “I’m not helping you. I’m helping the company eliminate parasites. This company needs real talent.” I understood immediately. “I’m giving you one week,” Harrison said. “Find the parasite.” “I’ll need help.” I looked at him and stated my condition. Harrison seemed to have expected this. “IT will cooperate with you. Officially, starting now, you’ve been suspended and need to process your termination immediately.” “Alright.” I nodded. When I walked out of Harrison’s office, my coworkers’ laughter stopped abruptly. Vivian was the first to react. She walked over with her coffee mug. “Clara, finished talking with the boss? How’d it go? Everything okay?” I looked at her and smiled. “It’s fine.” “Mr. Reid asked me to resign. I’m leaving.” I clearly saw a flash of barely concealed triumph in her eyes. “What? How could this happen…” She covered her mouth dramatically, pretending to be dismayed. “Well, don’t be too upset. Think of it as a vacation. You can find work anywhere, right?” The surrounding coworkers chimed in. “Yeah, Clara, don’t take it to heart.” “Vivian’s right. A new job might be better for you anyway.” I looked at these people. They were like vultures circling. “Thanks for your concern, everyone.” After speaking, I turned and went back to my desk.

Early the next morning, I began processing my so-called termination. According to procedure, I needed to transfer all my unfinished work to the project manager—Vivian Matthews. She sat at my workstation with a handover checklist, like an inspector. The project she was responsible for—I’d pulled several all-nighters last month to finish it. “Why does this data look wrong?” Vivian pointed at a report on the screen. My heart sank. I leaned in to look. That was the final version I’d submitted last Friday. I’d checked it at least ten times. There couldn’t be any problems. “I remember everything was fine when I handed it to you.” “Really?” Vivian raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I’m misremembering, or maybe you accidentally messed it up?” She turned to a coworker at the next desk and smiled. “Well, Clara’s been under a lot of stress lately. Mistakes are understandable.” She said “understandable,” but her expression clearly said “see, she’s just incompetent.” “But it’s a small issue. I’ll fix it.” She appeared very magnanimous, picking up the mouse to help me correct it. I watched her randomly modify my spreadsheet, and a bad feeling rose in my chest. I couldn’t confront her on the spot. I needed evidence. I straightened up and casually picked up my water glass. “I’m going to get some water.” I turned toward the break room. She didn’t know I’d already started the screen recording function on my computer. Her every move was being captured. I lingered in the break area for a moment before returning to my desk. She had “found” three of my “mistakes.” By the end, I’d become a waste of space with questionable abilities in the entire department’s eyes. And she was the perfect manager who’d salvaged everything and showed mercy to her incompetent subordinate. The handover finished. I carried my small cardboard box, ready to leave. Vivian even “kindly” walked me to the elevator. “Clara, let’s keep in touch.” She waved at me with a smile, triumph practically overflowing from her eyes. I walked to a coffee shop at the corner across from the company and found the most secluded seat. I pulled out my USB drive and copied the video I’d just recorded. Putting on headphones, I slowed the playback speed to one-third. At exactly fifteen minutes and three seconds into the video. I clearly saw Vivian’s fingers, in the gap between rapidly switching windows. Precisely click open a subfolder in my work files. Then she selected a document named “Final Backup – DO NOT TOUCH.” Without hesitation, she pressed Delete. That document was the most original, most complete backup of real data for the project she was responsible for. My heartbeat nearly stopped in that instant.

I extracted that crucial video segment and sent it to Harrison via encrypted email. Five minutes later, my phone vibrated. It was Harrison’s brief reply. “Continue.” Very much his style. He didn’t want the process. He wanted results. One video could only prove Vivian was guilty of deleting my files, but it wasn’t enough to directly link her to those 197 votes. I needed more direct evidence. I pulled out my work phone and dialed an encrypted number. The call was answered quickly. “Hello, Clara.” It was Lucas Gray from IT, the person Harrison had assigned to help with my investigation. He was a recent college grad with great technical skills but an introverted personality. He rarely spoke at the company. I’d once helped him out when older employees were giving him a hard time. “Lucas, can you check if there were any unusual operations on Vivian’s work computer yesterday between nine and ten AM?” I asked in a low voice. “Sure, give me a moment.” Lucas agreed readily. I picked up the now-cold coffee in front of me. My brain was like a machine running at high speed, replaying every detail of the situation. Why would Vivian do this? Just to get rid of me and eliminate a potential competitor? No, the cost was too high. The file she deleted must hide a bigger secret. Half an hour later, Lucas called back. “Clara, I checked. There’s nothing.” His voice sounded a bit dejected. “She just sent and received emails, browsed the intranet—exactly like a normal employee.” The lead had gone cold. But I wasn’t giving up. I leaned back on the coffee shop sofa, forcing myself to calm down. Same-second voting. That absolutely couldn’t be 197 people manually clicking. It must have used some kind of script or program that completed all operations instantly through a single command. If there was no problem with Vivian’s own computer… Then where was the “server” that executed this program? That platform that could centrally control, or rather, could be exploited for unified operations… A thought suddenly flashed through my mind. Cloud server! The company had rented a large cloud server so employees could work remotely anytime, anywhere. All employee accounts could log in through specific ports and authorizations. That platform had extremely high permissions. Theoretically, if someone obtained high enough access, they could absolutely perform batch operations. I immediately grabbed my phone and called Lucas again. “Lucas, don’t check individual computers! Check the cloud server! Check all backend login logs at exactly 9:31 AM yesterday!”

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I was reborn at the exact moment I picked up the wrong glass—the one meant for my boss, Dominic Reed, laced with aphrodisiac drug. This time, I didn’t take the wrong glass. I watched him drink it down, then dial the woman he truly loved: Celeste. In my past life, I was Dominic’s secretary. And I fell in love with him. When the drug hit my system, I didn’t care that he needed to get to Celeste. I grabbed his belt and made him stay. Not long after, I found out I was pregnant. Dominic was forced to marry me. But on the day I went into labor with complications, he got the news—Celeste had thrown herself off a building, destroyed by grief. He stormed into the delivery room and sent the doctors away. Then he watched me die. The last thing I heard was his voice: “If you hadn’t gotten pregnant, I never would’ve been forced to marry you. Celeste wouldn’t have killed herself. You deserve this…” When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the day I drank that drugged wine. “Iris! Call Celeste right now!” Hearing that familiar command again, I jolted awake. I’d been reborn. Without hesitation, I grabbed my phone and dialed Celeste’s number. Dominic’s face was flushed, his eyes burning with desire. The drug was kicking in. In my past life, I was the one who drank from that glass. I was the one who lost control. And it led to my death. This time, I watched coldly as he downed the entire glass. As the drug began to take hold and he looked at me with struggling, hazy eyes, I quickly finished dialing Celeste. “Dominic, just hang on. Celeste will be here in ten minutes.” The moment I closed the door behind me, I thought I heard him call my name. But I pretended not to hear. I shut the door firmly and waited at the end of the hallway. Ten minutes later, Celeste arrived in a rush. She looked at me with a complicated expression. When she saw that my clothes were intact and I was perfectly composed, relief washed over her face. Before pushing open the door, she glanced at me. “You can leave now. I don’t need you here.” I turned and took the elevator down, called a car, and went back to my apartment. The next morning, Celeste appeared in the executive office. Dominic lifted his coffee, took a sip, then casually announced to the core management team: “From now on, Celeste is my fiancée. She’s also an important future partner for the company. You will all treat her with respect.” Then he looked directly at me, pointing with his pen. “Especially you, Iris.” I nodded blankly. Celeste smirked, flashing me a triumphant smile. I pretended not to notice. I gathered the meeting notes and started to leave the office. But just as I stood up, I heard Celeste’s voice, soft and wounded: “Dominic… does Iris not want me involved in company affairs? I know how important she is to you. If she’s unhappy with me being here, maybe I shouldn’t come to the office anymore.” Her eyes glistened with tears. She looked as pitiful as possible. Dominic frowned. Before he could say anything, I replied: “Of course not. But if you’re not satisfied with me, I’ll make sure to stay out of your sight from now on.” Without waiting for Dominic’s reaction, I walked straight back to my office. Half an hour later, my office door swung open. And there he was—Dominic, staring at me with dark, stormy eyes.

Instinctively, I wanted to close the door. I didn’t want to deal with him. But Dominic blocked it with his arm, frowning as he looked at me. “Are you avoiding me? Why?” He leaned in closer, studying my face. “Are you upset? Because of Celeste?” I quickly shook my head. “No. I’m happy for you. You and Celeste finally get to be together.” His eyes flickered with something unreadable. He seemed… dissatisfied with my answer. “Is that the truth? Or are you just being passive-aggressive?” Then he scoffed. “Iris, don’t tell me you still haven’t gotten over me. Three years ago at the company party, you kissed me when you were drunk. You think I didn’t notice?” “All these years, those little hints you tucked into your reports. That encrypted folder on your computer—the personal journal? I’ve read all of it. You thought you were hiding it so well. But the way you look at me? Everyone in this company can see you’re in love with me.” “The smartest thing you ever did was never confess. Because if you had? I would’ve laughed in your face. Laughed at how pathetic and delusional you are.” He chuckled to himself, then walked over to my desk and yanked open the bottom drawer. He grabbed a thick stack of printed journal pages and scattered them across the floor, stepping on them. “Iris, I handpicked you fresh out of college. I trained you. I gave you everything. And this is how you repay me? You knew I only loved Celeste. But you still wrote all this… feelings you had no right to have. Do you know how embarrassing this is? For both of us?” He leaned down close to my ear, his voice low. “I came here to tell you something. Yesterday, when I drank that wine, I saw the look in your eyes. You wanted to be the one to ‘help’ me, didn’t you? Thank God you didn’t. Because if you had, I would’ve been disgusted for the rest of my life. You’re not worth it.” My heart clenched painfully. Even though I’d decided not to love him in this life, hearing those cruel words still hurt. After warning me to stay away from him and not make Celeste uncomfortable, Dominic slammed the door and left. I didn’t want to be in their way anymore. I had to go out and finalize my transfer paperwork anyway, so I packed up and left. That night, I deliberately waited until almost 10 p.m. to return to the office to pick up some things. The moment I stepped into my office, I noticed something was wrong. My custom ergonomic chair—gone. Then I saw it. Celeste had posted on social media: a selfie of herself sitting in a luxurious office chair. The caption read: “I just mentioned my back was sore, and he immediately gave me the best chair in the whole company. This is why it’s so important to find a man with power, money, and thoughtfulness!” She’d taken the chair Dominic had custom-ordered for me. Earlier this year, when my back injury flared up, Dominic had specially approved a budget of over $20,000 for a chair designed for long hours at a desk—because I was his “chief secretary.” He used to be so good to me. He knew what it meant to show that kind of special attention to a female subordinate. And yet, he let me fall for him. But now, from his position of power, he was telling me I had no right to love him. And now? Celeste made one offhand comment, and Dominic didn’t even bother telling me before he had my chair taken away. Hearing me return, Dominic stood in my doorway and said coolly, “Celeste has back problems. I gave her your chair. Your injury’s healed anyway. Any chair will do for you now.” I didn’t even look up. “Mm,” I murmured. Dominic’s frown deepened. He stared at me intently. “Iris, didn’t you used to hate it when I was nice to other people? Why aren’t you throwing a tantrum now?” “Are you plotting something?” “I’m warning you—if you dare do anything to Celeste, I’ll make sure you never work in this industry again.” I finally looked up. “I’m not trying to do anything to anyone. I just want to be left alone. And isn’t this what you always wanted? For me to be more professional? You should be happy.” Dominic pressed his lips together. Then, almost like a sulking child, he repeated, “Fine. Fine. Fine. Iris, you’re just great.” He slammed the door on his way back to his office. Whenever he said things like that, it meant he was angry. But I wasn’t going to comfort him anymore. Whether he was angry or not didn’t matter. Because soon, I’d be gone.

The next few weeks passed simply. Celeste came to the office every day to flaunt their relationship. Dominic was still sulking. And this time, I wasn’t going to be the one to fix it. A month later, Celeste announced she was pregnant. Dominic was over the moon. He wanted to tell the whole world. The wedding was moved up immediately. Everyone in the company was gossiping about the upcoming ceremony. In this life, the one who got pregnant was the woman he actually loved. And I decided to let them have it. As soon as my transfer paperwork was finalized, I booked a flight to Italy—scheduled for the same day as their wedding. Dominic finally broke and came to find me. He waited until Celeste wasn’t at the office, then pushed open my door. He pulled out his phone, opened an email from HR, and shoved it in my face. “You applied for an overseas transfer? What, you’re so devastated by my wedding that you’re running away?” My heart skipped. But his next words eased my tension a little. When I didn’t answer, his tone turned cold. “Iris, are you done with this tantrum?” “Ever since Celeste started coming to the office, you’ve been avoiding me.” “But I’m going to marry her eventually. So what, you’re planning to keep avoiding me even after the wedding?” I shook my head. “Dominic, I think you misunderstand. I only see you as the boss who mentored me. I’m grateful. That’s all.” He laughed. Like I’d just told the funniest joke. “Grateful? Iris, everyone in this company knows you’re hopelessly in love with me. Who’s going to believe you’re just ‘grateful’? Do you even believe that yourself?” He glanced at the bookshelf in my office and smirked. “All these gifts I gave you over the years—you’ve kept them so carefully. And you’re telling me you don’t love me?” He walked over and picked up the items one by one. A limited-edition pen. A brooch. A watch. Then he said seriously: “You should put all this stuff away. I’m about to marry Celeste. You need to stop holding onto these ridiculous fantasies. We’re just boss and employee. I will never love you. And Celeste is pregnant now. If she sees these things, it might upset her. I can’t have anything happen to my fiancée or my son.” “Mm,” I said, and immediately started packing everything into a cardboard box. I was planning to get rid of it all before leaving the country anyway. Might as well do it now. Seeing how calm I was, Dominic frowned and grabbed my wrist. “Iris, can’t you be more careful? Look, you bent the nib on this pen!” I glanced at the luxury pen in his hand. It was the first gift he ever gave me—the day I passed my probation and officially became his secretary. For years, I treasured it. I wouldn’t let anyone else even touch it. But now, I’d just tossed it carelessly into a box. And Dominic couldn’t stand it. “Iris, you’re clearly devastated about me marrying Celeste. You’re running away. But now you’re pretending you don’t love me anymore?” He exhaled sharply. “Fine. Maybe it’s good for you to cool off overseas. Celeste is in a delicate stage of her pregnancy. It’s better if you’re not around anyway.” Dominic pulled out his phone and transferred $10,000 to me. “Take this. Get yourself settled in Italy. After work, travel around a bit. Take a month to clear your head. By then, Celeste’s pregnancy will be stable.” He looked at me meaningfully. “Adjust your mindset while you’re abroad. Don’t miss me too much. I’m going to be a married man. You need to get used to it. Otherwise, working together later is going to be awkward.” Dominic gave me a few more instructions about the overseas assignment. But he didn’t know—I’d been reborn. And this time, I was really leaving. On Dominic’s wedding day, both the hotel and the company headquarters were bustling early in the morning. While everyone was focused on the ceremony, I quietly grabbed my suitcase, got in a cab, and headed straight to the airport.

Dominic had changed into his wedding suit, but he didn’t leave with the groomsmen to pick up the bride. For some reason, he found himself walking to Iris’s office. He wanted to see her one last time. But when he got there, the office was empty. All her personal belongings were gone. The only thing left on her desk was a standard resignation handover checklist. His heart skipped a beat. He assumed she must have gone to the wedding venue early to help with preparations. That thought calmed him down enough to go pick up Celeste. He was beyond excited today. He was finally marrying the love of his life. And soon, they’d have a child together. Just thinking about it made him smile uncontrollably. The moment he saw Celeste, he couldn’t look away. She looked breathtaking in her white wedding gown. This was the woman he’d been in love with for years. But he wasn’t the only one staring. There was another man—Celeste’s close friend. Dominic didn’t see him as a threat. The guy was good-looking and charming, sure. But other than that? Completely mediocre. He made a point of kissing Celeste in front of the man before carrying her to the wedding car. The ceremony began. But Dominic still didn’t see Iris anywhere. He understood. She couldn’t bear to watch him marry someone else. That’s why she didn’t show up. The day after the wedding, he took Celeste on their honeymoon. He completely forgot about Iris. It wasn’t until two weeks later, when he returned to the office, that he noticed she still wasn’t there. He finally called his assistant to ask about her. That’s when he found out—she’d flown to Italy on his wedding day. He vaguely remembered approving her transfer. He’d even sent her $10,000 to help her settle in. He figured she must’ve started at the overseas branch by now. He made a mental note to remind her not to be so obvious about her feelings. Celeste was pregnant and emotionally sensitive. He couldn’t let anyone upset her. Not even Iris. A month later, during the overseas branch’s monthly report, Iris didn’t join the video meeting. Another month passed. She still didn’t appear in any international conference calls. Dominic started to feel uneasy. He finally tried calling her. But her number had been disconnected. That’s when it hit him. She’d really left. And she hadn’t even said goodbye. She’d changed her number so he couldn’t reach her. Dominic felt a strange discomfort in his chest. She’d actually let him go. She’d walked away without a word. But then he reminded himself—she probably left because he got married and was having a baby. She had no choice. Besides, he’d married the woman of his dreams. Whether Iris came back or not didn’t matter anymore. It was better this way. He could finally have some peace.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “343213”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn

I’d been undercover for five years with crime boss Damien Thorne. My mission was finally supposed to end. Then, my captain told me the plan was postponed. “There’s a bigger fish behind Damien. We have to wait.” I looked down in silence at the corpse on the floor. Just moments ago, Damien had killed one of his own men in a fit of rage, all to protect me. He walked over, his arm gently wrapping around my waist, coaxing me. “Don’t be scared. As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you. What restaurant do you want to go to tonight?” That night, after Damien had dropped me off in my room, I sent a secure message to my captain: “Captain Miller, we really can’t wait any longer. If we do, I’ll end up marrying a crime boss.” In a derelict building, I finally met my captain, David Miller. He rubbed his temples. “Kira, I know your situation is dangerous right now. But you absolutely have to hold on a little longer.” I gave a bitter smile. He always said that. My phone rang. I answered it. I immediately switched to a sweet, saccharine voice. “Hello? Damien, honey, what’s up? I’m just getting my nails done. Okay, I’m coming right back, don’t be mad, darling.” Captain Miller was probably startled by my feigned sweetness. After all, I was known for being ruthless and cold-hearted back at the station. I shot Captain Miller a glare. “Captain, we agreed. This is the last time. Whether the mission succeeds or not, you have to let me go back.” When I returned to the mansion, I pushed open the front door to a floor covered in blood. “Kira.” Damien stood in a pool of blood, speaking unhurriedly. “They both said you were an undercover cop.” He even ran a blood-stained finger through my hair. “I wouldn’t want anyone falsely accusing you of being a cop. So, I took care of them for you.” A chill ran down my spine. Damien, do you really love me, or is this all an act? That night, after I got back to my room, I secretly called Captain Miller. “I’m coming back. After this job, I’m out. Captain!” “I know. Your flight’s already booked. As long as we catch who Damien is dealing with this time, your mission will be complete.” Captain Miller assured me over the phone. But this time, my patience had run out. “You can’t lie to me this time, Captain. Damien just killed two more people right in front of me today. I don’t even know if he’s sane anymore.” “Alright, I gotta go. Don’t blow your cover.” All I got in reply was the dial tone. I sighed, took out the SIM card, snapped it, and threw it into the bushes below. No sooner had I finished than someone embraced me from behind. “Did I scare you today, huh?” The man carried the faint scent of tropical plants. That scent always brought back memories of home. Damien knew I liked that scent. I wrapped my arms around his waist. My ear pressed against his chest, I was disappointed to hear his heart beating strongly. “I’m fine.” “It’s just… how are you going to explain killing Jax to your men…?” He gripped my chin, tilting my head up. “If I didn’t kill him, should I have killed you instead?” Damien was a complete madman, I knew that. He pressed me against the balcony railing, the night wind soft and lingering. He kissed me, just as gently. As if his hands had never held countless lives, as if he wasn’t the most notorious crime boss to the police. Until his dagger slid under my clothes, slowly moving up, then cutting open my shirt. “No matter what anyone says about you, I believe you.”

The early autumn sun was beautiful. I followed Damien to his deal. His contact this time was infamous, known as “Black Panther.” Based on the intel I passed on, the police should have already set up at the transaction site. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Damien never shied away from my presence at any major event. I couldn’t stop thinking, I could finally go home. Finally, I wouldn’t have to stand in the shadows. Finally, I could go home. I couldn’t even imagine how happy I’d be when I pulled out my gun, pressed it against Damien’s head, and told him, “I’m a cop.” Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Both Damien and Black Panther frowned. The door was kicked open simultaneously. I instantly drew my gun and pressed it against the forehead of the man sitting beside me. “I’m sorry, I’m a po—” Before I could finish, Captain Miller’s voice crackled through my hidden earpiece. “Operation terminated. Kira, you cannot arrest this man.” “…The police are here.” My pistol barely grazed Damien’s forehead, the bullet hitting the wall behind the door. Immediately, everything erupted into chaos. These anti-drug officers who stormed in weren’t actually there to catch fugitives; they were putting on a show. What’s more, their firepower wasn’t even as strong as what Damien and Black Panther had brought. “Kira, your primary mission is to protect Damien.” “He’s a key witness. We can’t lose our lead with you.” The final order came through my earpiece. Damien grabbed me and ran. The anti-drug police were lenient with Black Panther’s men, but for Damien, it was real bullets. As whistling bullets flew past, I stumbled, still wearing my heels. “Move!” Damien practically grit his teeth as he dragged me, uttering that. But I stood there, unmoving. “Go!!” His voice was almost hoarse from shouting. Amidst the commotion, I turned to where my Captain stood, gun raised, pointing it at me. I admit, for a moment. I didn’t want to be this damn undercover agent anymore. If I just took that step, if I fully exposed myself, I wouldn’t be undercover anymore. Captain Miller would surely take me back. But the moment I hesitated, Captain Miller didn’t hesitate to fire a shot at me. In that critical moment, Damien pulled me aside. But he was hit by a bullet. Instantly, blood gushed from his abdomen. Yet he still gripped my hand tightly, pulling me to run outside. “I’m sorry, Damien, I didn’t know…” But before I could finish, Molly, Damien’s step-sister, slapped me. “This is all because of you! My brother is so badly hurt because of you! You’re such a bitch!” She yanked my hair. My scalp stung from the pulling, but I didn’t dare say another word. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Damien in the backseat, his head bowed as he tended to his wound. He didn’t even glance at me. Before, if anyone dared to hit me, he would have ended their life. “I was just… so scared.” I kept my head down, explaining non-stop. There was nothing else I could do; I was back here, and I had to fight for my survival. I still had a mission. Showing weakness, playing coy — those were my usual tactics against him. He always used to go soft on me. But this time… After bandaging his wound, he finally looked up. He pulled out a gun and pressed it against my forehead. “Just now, I distinctly heard you say you were a cop. Care to explain, Ms. Kira?”

My hands and feet were bound. Everything was dark. What methods did these people use to deal with traitors? Cutting off hands and feet, drawn-out torture, throwing them into a ditch to feed rats… Until the blindfold was removed. A bare bulb swung overhead. I looked up, staring at Damien, who was wearing goggles. Was it to prevent blood from splattering on his face? He gripped my chin, forcing my head up. “Do you know what kind of punishment awaits you?” he asked me. I stared at him in silence. He gave me a small smile. “Why are you trembling?” Then, he took out his phone, set it on a stand, and aimed the camera at us. “Kira, I told you, you wouldn’t be a traitor.” …But he took the torture tool and brought it down on his own hand. I had seen many gruesome scenes, but this was the first time I was truly terrified. Then, I heard Molly say, “Damien can’t bear to punish you. But rules are rules, Ms. Kira. The mistake you made can only be borne by Damien in your place.” “I truly don’t understand why Damien ever fell in love with you!” …Soon, Damien couldn’t hold on any longer. The next second, he collapsed onto my lap. Blood was everywhere. I stared at his finger, now on the floor. Until he chuckled softly. “What are you crying for? We’ll just reattach it.” White-clad medical personnel rushed in, collected his severed finger, and lifted him onto a stretcher. Before they left, I heard his soft sigh. “Stay with me, okay, Kira? Forget your old life. If you betray me again, I swear to God, I won’t be able to take it.” Later, I was locked in Damien’s room. I remembered when he first took me in. I was wearing ragged clothes, standing among a line of girls for them to look over. He had never taken an interest in me; I had provoked him step by step. I needed to extract information, and before coming here, I had studied how to become his lover. And then he fell in love with me. “Who are you starving yourself for?” Outside, the rain relentlessly lashed against the window. The man, his hand wrapped in gauze, leaned against the doorframe, watching me. I hugged my knees. Until he walked to the bed and pushed me back onto the blankets. “Do I look like I’m in the mood to coax you?” Angry, he gripped my head, forcing me to face him. “Do I need to feed you?” I took a breath. He picked up a nearby bowl of soup, took a mouthful, and forced it into me. I just felt his body was burning hot, searing me until I couldn’t breathe. “Kira, what in God’s name are you thinking?” He stopped feeding me halfway, then gripped my throat. He asked me viciously. I stared into his eyes, deep and mesmerizing. “Damien, how’s your hand injury?” I held his fingers. The severed finger had been reattached, but terrifying scars remained at the base of each finger. And he probably wouldn’t have the same dexterity as before. As the howling wind swept into the room, I realized he was only wearing a thin shirt. “Damien, did the powerful figure behind you punish you?” I asked him softly. He leaned on my shoulder, seeming tired, with heavy dark circles under his eyes. “Yes.” “Do you regret it?” I asked him. He chuckled softly, then sat upright. “Regret what? Regret meeting you? I regret it to death. But what can I do? Could I ever bring myself to kill you?”

I was locked in Damien’s room, with no way to contact the outside world. So every night, he’d demand me fiercely. He wouldn’t let me use birth control. Finally, I couldn’t hold back and asked him, “Can you please let me go out? It’s so stifling being stuck in your room all day.” “Go out and do what? Test if your homemade communication device works?” he scoffed. I was indeed using whatever I could find in the room to make communication devices; I had to find a way to contact Captain Miller. But I made those devices in the bathroom. “Damien, you pervert, you put cameras in the bathroom!” He raised an eyebrow, neither confirming nor denying. The next second, he smashed the device I’d hidden behind a picture frame onto the floor, gripped my throat, and pinned me against the wall. “I told you not to leave, not to leave, why do you always disobey me?” I lied: “It’s not a communication device. It’s a birthday gift for you.” Anyway, you smashed it, so you can’t tell what it is. The moment I said that, he released me. I didn’t expect him to crouch down and pick up the broken device piece by piece. “It’s a little robot.” I could only force myself to explain. But he picked it up as if it were a treasure. He wiped the dust off with his sleeve and tucked it into his chest pocket. When he suddenly pulled me into a hug. “I’m sorry, Kira. My fault, I misunderstood you.” His prominent nose brushed against my neck; his emotions shifted so rapidly, I suspected he hadn’t taken his medication today. That night, as he held me close. I called his name over and over. I finally earned the right to go out. He’d been strange these past few days, often sitting alone in the living room, lost in thought. One night, he burst into my room, gripping my shoulders. “Kira, I messed up, I’m too late.” His eyes held a flicker of panic as he hugged me and cried. I didn’t know why he was so upset. He held me tightly, and after a long moment, I realized it was his body’s instinct begging for help. The next day, he was acting as if nothing had happened, kissing the corner of my mouth and wishing me good morning. I suspected his mental illness was getting worse. But it didn’t matter. I had already contacted Captain Miller. The next time we met, it would be in a police interrogation room. “Kira, I keep having the same dream lately,” he suddenly told me. “What dream?” He didn’t answer me, just smiled. Tiny kisses brushed my earlobe, and he whispered, “Kira, tell me, will we have a baby?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “343214”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn