Category: English

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?”

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I received an electricity bill for a villa I hadn’t visited in ages. Weird, right? So I drove over there. Pushing open the door, I found the place packed with my old college classmates! And right in the middle of the crowd, my fiancée was passionately making out with my arch-rival. Before I could even speak, my rival spotted me first. He had his arm around my fiancée, a sneer plastered across his face. “Liam, this isn’t a place for a nobody like you. Get lost!” My fiancée chimed in, equally annoyed. “Liam, seriously, stop hounding me. What we had was just a fling. A broke scrub like you could never be good enough for me.” I rolled my eyes, pulled out my phone, and dialed the police. “Hello, I’d like to report a break-in. Someone’s trespassing on private property.” The moment I pushed open the door, my college arch-rival, Brandon Pierce, had one hand gripping Chloe Davis’s butt, while they were locked in a passionate French kiss. Everyone froze when they saw me, then a wave of whispers swept through the room. “What’s Liam Caldwell doing here? Did anyone even invite him?” “I heard Liam was totally obsessed with Chloe back in college.” “He’s such a poor loser, how could he ever be worthy of Chloe?” “But wait, I heard Chloe was actually Liam’s fiancée?” … Honestly, I wasn’t supposed to be here at all. I’d booked a flight to go back home and see my parents, but just before I left, I got that utility bill. My first thought was some homeless person had broken in, so I decided to check it out. After all, this villa was supposed to be Chloe’s birthday gift, and it had only been renovated two months ago. I’d planned to tell her my real identity when I gave her the villa – that I wasn’t just some regular guy, but the heir to a multi-billion dollar empire. But who would’ve thought? She was cheating on me with another man in my villa, and that man was my arch-rival! Seeing my silence, Brandon aimed a spotlight at me, raising a microphone and shouting, “Liam, what are you doing crashing my party? I certainly didn’t invite you.” I frowned. “You didn’t, but this is my…” He cut me off before I could finish. Brandon sneered. “Since I didn’t invite you, how could you be so thick-skinned to show up at my place?! Or, after more than ten years, have you finally remembered to apologize to me?” Brandon and I were from two different worlds, but in our sophomore year, he came to me for help to pass an exam. He offered me five hundred bucks to help him cheat. The moment I took his money, I went straight to the professor and reported him. He got penalized by the school, and from then on, he became my sworn enemy, constantly trying to torment me. After graduation, we hadn’t had any contact. I shook my head. “Even if I had a hundred do-overs, I still wouldn’t help you cheat.” Though my words were firm, Brandon just thought I was being stubborn. “Don’t act so tough! I totally get people like you!” “Nerd! You thought you could make up for my family’s wealth by studying hard in school, only to realize once you entered the real world that even if you got into a prestigious university, you’d just end up as a lapdog for rich people like us.” “But, I won’t stoop to your level, you country bumpkin. Just kneel down, call me ‘Daddy,’ and lick my shoes clean, and I’ll forgive you.”

The crowd roared with laughter. These were the same people who used to follow Brandon around, bullying others in college. It was clear they hadn’t changed at all after graduation, only gotten worse. “They’re giving you a chance, why aren’t you taking it? One ‘Daddy’ could get you a lifetime of luxury!” “Why aren’t you on your knees licking his shoes and calling him ‘Daddy’ yet? This isn’t the time to be stupid, don’t do something you’ll regret again!” “Exactly, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Don’t let your pride make you forget why you’re here!” “Our Mr. Pierce doesn’t just let anyone in, you know. He’s clearly doing you a favor.” ….. I knew arguing with these kinds of people was pointless, so I stayed silent, fixing my gaze on Chloe. “I told you I wanted to take you to meet my parents, and you turned me down, saying you needed to spend the holidays with your family. So why are you here? Is Brandon your family now?” Brandon feigned surprise. “Oh, that’s why you’re at my place? Looking for the ‘goddess’ Chloe?” As he said this, Brandon hugged Chloe tighter, showing her off. “Honey, didn’t you say you were single and only loved me? Why is this broke scrub saying such things?” Chloe’s face had been dark ever since she saw me. Hearing Brandon’s question, she spat at me, then gritted her teeth and said, “God, you’re disgusting. Couldn’t you tell I was politely rejecting you? Did you really have to stalk me like this? I’d never be with a broke loser like you!” “I’ve been nice, for old times’ sake, not calling the police, not embarrassing you, but how can you be so incredibly self-absorbed? Why would I turn down Brandon to go see your parents who work construction?” “Let me tell you, Brandon is a thousand, a million times better than you. You’re not even worthy of the dirt on his shoes! This is my final warning: we are OVER. If you keep stalking me like a creep, don’t blame me for calling the police and having you arrested!” Brandon beamed, planting a kiss on Chloe. “That’s my girl! I love how you know what’s good for you!” Chloe didn’t look embarrassed at all. In fact, she looked relieved, as if she was afraid Brandon might misunderstand her relationship with me. I found it even more ridiculous. I’d thought my questions would make Chloe feel guilty, but I never imagined she’d belittle me like this, painting me as some twisted stalker. The image of the cool, aloof goddess she’d always presented to me shattered instantly. I felt ashamed that I’d fallen for a woman like this, wishing I could slap myself. Seeing my anger, Brandon found it even more amusing. He signaled to a few classmates, who immediately pushed and pulled me closer to him. Brandon put down the microphone and whispered in my ear, “Ever heard the saying, ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold’? You screwed me over and then just disappeared, leaving me to flunk and be ridiculed. You should’ve seen this day coming!” “I did this on purpose, you know. I knew you liked Chloe, that you were her simp, so I deliberately went after her. But she’s smarter than you; the moment she realized I was richer, she practically ripped off her clothes and jumped into my bed.” “I heard you and Chloe had a Platonic relationship? Never even slept together? Then you must have no idea how wild she is in bed, right?” I could tell Brandon wanted to provoke me into making a scene. Naturally, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I just smiled. “You know, I actually have to thank you. Thank you for helping me see Chloe, the gold digger, for who she really is.” “Because I was never Chloe’s simp, and I’m definitely not a stalker. She’s the one who’s been chasing me. It’s actually pretty funny, considering I even successfully proposed to her recently.”

At my words, the bustling party instantly fell silent. Everyone started whispering amongst themselves, but from their expressions, it didn’t look like they were talking about me being cheated on. More like they were calling Chloe two-faced and Brandon a fool for falling for her. Brandon hadn’t expected the truth to be this. He thought he was stealing my ‘goddess’ to teach me a lesson, but instead, he’d snatched himself a gold digger! “Chloe, what the hell is going on between you and Liam?” Brandon’s face was livid, and he shoved Chloe away from him. Chloe’s face went white with anger. She pulled out the large diamond ring I’d given her from her pocket, holding it up as she shouted, “Yes, that’s right! I was planning to marry you because I thought you were an honest guy.” “But I never imagined you’d be so pathetic, trying to trick me with a lab-grown diamond when you proposed! I can accept you being poor, but I can’t accept you being a liar!” “I was thinking the holidays were coming up, so I was going to break up with you after. But I never thought you’d stalk me here and ruin my reputation!” “Just because you lied to me, does that mean I have to keep being fooled?” I raised an eyebrow. “Who told you it was a lab-grown diamond?” Chloe scoffed. “Do I really need someone to tell me?” “This diamond is at least ten carats! How could a broke loser like you afford such an expensive ring to give me? Or can your construction worker parents afford it? If it’s not a lab-grown diamond, what is it, glass?” Chloe grew increasingly furious, flinging the large diamond ring onto the floor. Thankfully, the diamond was big and sparkly enough that it didn’t disappear completely. I was about to explain whether the diamond was real or fake, when a female classmate picked up the ring and spoke first. “I work in diamond sales! This is absolutely not a lab-grown diamond, this is a real South American diamond!!!” Chloe rolled her eyes, grabbing Brandon’s hand again, and said dismissively, “Don’t just make things up. Do you really think I don’t know if Liam can afford a diamond? ” “Do you think everyone is as rich as Brandon, able to buy a huge mansion just like that?” The female classmate seemed worried no one would believe her. Trembling, she put the ring in my hand and quickly continued, “Anyone who has me on SnapChat knows I sell jewelry. I can tell the difference between a real diamond and a lab-grown one with my eyes closed. I swear on my life, this is a genuine diamond.” Seeing the classmate speak so confidently about the diamond, Chloe’s face went white again. “But… but how is that possible? How could you have so much money to buy such an expensive diamond ring?” “You better explain yourself!” I didn’t really need to explain anything, but I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. “This diamond ring is…” Before I could finish, Brandon snatched the ring from my hand. “You stole it from me!” “I was wondering how you got into my house. Now I get it! You must have been one of the renovation workers! You stole a copy of my house key, took this huge diamond, and then gave it to Chloe!” As Brandon spoke, he slipped the diamond ring onto Chloe’s finger. “Chloe, I was mad at you for accepting his proposal. But now I realize, you must have sensed this ring was mine, and that’s why you said yes, for the sake of the ring, right?” Chloe, whether she truly believed him or was just playing along, immediately kissed Brandon, smiling and calling him, “Honey, yes, exactly! That’s it!” “It was fate.”

Although Brandon didn’t understand how I’d gotten the diamond ring, he was convinced I couldn’t afford such a large one, so he spoke without hesitation. “I was going to call the cops on you, but for old times’ sake, and since you helped me find such a great wife in Chloe, I’ll forgive you. Now get out!” Chloe chimed in, “Yeah, kick him out! Don’t let this garbage ruin our party!” I wanted to rip Brandon and Chloe’s mouths open, but seeing everyone in the room look at me with disdain, it wasn’t hard to imagine what would happen if I tried anything. With so many people, one slap from each of them could seriously injure me. So, I didn’t engage in a war of words. Instead, I swallowed my pride, lowered my head, and left the villa amidst their vicious, sickening laughter. Once outside, I immediately locked the gate, then stood to the side and called the police again. Since the villa wasn’t in the city center, the police couldn’t arrive immediately. Inside, people quickly realized the gate was locked and they couldn’t get out. They started yelling for me to open the door. Brandon, especially, was almost in tears. “Open the damn gate! I didn’t even press charges for you stealing, what right do you have to lock us in?” I smiled. “Stealing is a big deal, especially such a huge diamond ring. So, I proactively called the police to come and arrest me, the thief.” Hearing that I’d called the police, Brandon started slamming against the door frantically, trying to threaten and coax me. I wasn’t afraid of him; there was no way that gate could be forced open by human strength alone. Only when the police pulled up did I finally unlock it. Brandon’s legs nearly gave out when he saw the police, almost collapsing to his knees. Chloe, oblivious, snapped at me, “You’re so dead.” The officer turned on his body camera and asked sternly, “What’s going on here?” Seeing Brandon speechless, Chloe quickly stepped forward and pointed at me. “Officers, perfect timing! My boyfriend and I were just having a nice party in our villa!” “But this man first showed up uninvited and started harassing us!” “Then we discovered he’d stolen my boyfriend’s priceless diamond ring! After we caught him, he got embarrassed and ran out, but then he locked us all inside!” “I now have a very reasonable suspicion that he planned to set the whole place on fire and burn us all alive! So you need to arrest him immediately! People with anti-social personalities like him should be locked up, don’t you agree?” The classmates, who’d been locked in for a while and were fuming, immediately chimed in. “Yes, I can confirm, this guy is definitely bad news.” “He’s a thief, he stole Mr. Pierce’s ring from his house.” “That stolen ring could be worth tens of millions, bigger than a bird’s egg!” “Exactly, whoever called the police is a hero! They saved our lives!” The police officers were taken aback. With dozens of people present, if I really intended to commit arson, it would have been a hellish scene! One officer looked puzzled. “Wait, this dispatch says the call was for trespassing, not theft or arson.” Another officer nodded. He stepped forward and said loudly, “You’re all speaking too chaotically, I can’t understand. Who called the police? Please step forward and explain the situation clearly.” I cleared my throat and stepped out. “Officers, I called the police, and I locked the gate. But I didn’t lock it to set a fire. I locked it to prevent these trespassers from running away.”

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The call came just before the wedding, from our wedding planner Amy. Her voice buzzed with excitement. “Miss Seraphina, we’ve finished the edit of Mr. Blake Harrison’s proposal video. It’s stunning. May we share it on our company account for promotion?” I froze for a second, then smiled. Blake and I had been together seven years. Our proposal was simple and spontaneous, just a casual suggestion after dinner. I thought this video was his secret, romantic surprise for me. “Of course,” I agreed cheerfully. After hanging up, I clicked on the planner’s social media. The latest video’s thumbnail showed Blake’s handsome profile. The caption read: “A Timeless Love Story. Seven Years Strong, He Gave Her the Surprise Proposal of a Lifetime.” I pressed play. The video was beautifully shot. Blake’s eyes held deep affection, enough to drown in. Then the camera shifted to show the woman in front of him. She stood in a white dress, hands clasped over her mouth in delight. My breath caught. The woman wasn’t me.

Seraphina POV By the time I fully registered her face, all the blood in my veins ran cold. It was Willow. Blake’s “bestie,” the one he swore was “like a sister.” In the video, he was kneeling, sliding the diamond ring-my ring-onto her finger. The comments section drowned in heart emojis and cries of “True love goals!” I closed the app. Two weeks ago, Blake had said he needed to do a favor for Willow, who was “so scared of commitment.” So this was the favor. A proposal more elaborate than the one he’d ever given me. Right then, a notification lit up my screen. A message from Blake. “What should we do for dinner tonight?” I left it on read. I screenshotted their embrace and posted it on Ins. My caption was brutal: “Dreams come true. Congrats to my fiancé Blake Harrison and his ‘bestie’ on their happy ending. Enjoy!” Blake called instantly, his voice seething. “Seraphina! What is this? Delete it now!” “Who’s the crazy one here, you or me?” I fired back. “I told you! It was a favor for Willow! She wanted to experience it! As her best friend, how could I refuse?” When I stayed silent, Blake seemed to hear his own anger. He took a breath, softening his tone slightly. “You know Willow’s ‘anti-marriage.’ She’s family to all of us. Nothing is going on. Don’t be dramatic.” His words struck me as utterly absurd. “Dramatic? So, unless you help her ‘experience’ her wedding night too, I’m ‘dramatic’?!” Blake roared, his anger flaring. “Seraphina! Don’t be so disgusting! Do you think everyone’s as high-maintenance as you? Willow has always been upfront; she’s not as twisted as you are!” “Fine, I’m twisted. I’ve desecrated your sacred friendship.” At that moment, I just felt exhausted. “I’m not marrying you.” I couldn’t be bothered to argue anymore. I just hung up.

Seraphina POV Half an hour later, the door was swung open. Blake stormed in, rage burning in his eyes. “Seraphina!” He pointed at me, his eyes bloodshot. “Explain yourself! What do you mean, ‘not marrying you’?!” I sat on the sofa, not even glancing his way. Blake grew even angrier. “Delete that Ins post immediately and go apologize to Willow! Otherwise, this wedding…” He didn’t finish his sentence. I stood up and slammed our wedding invitations onto the coffee table in front of him. Blake froze. “What are you doing with those?” I didn’t answer. Right in front of him, I pulled out one card and tore it forcefully. “Are you insane?! Stop that!” Blake reacted, trying to snatch them away. It was too late. I didn’t stop. I shredded all the remaining invitations, then tossed the pieces into the air. I watched Blake’s stunned expression and calmly told him, “I said, I’m not marrying you. So these things are useless now.” Blake was completely stunned by my actions. His shock quickly turned into furious indignation. “Fine! Seraphina, this is your choice. Don’t you dare regret it!” He threw the harsh words at me, then slammed the door shut as he left. I looked at the mess on the floor and felt, instead, a sense of lightness. When did I start losing myself, becoming so utterly pathetic in this relationship? My own proposal was Blake’s casual “Let’s get married” after dinner. I even picked out my own ring. For seven years, I’d numbed myself with the excuse that “he’s just not romantic.” But that meticulously planned proposal for Willow on TikTok? It ripped my lies to shreds. He wasn’t unromantic; he just couldn’t be bothered to put in the effort for me. Memories flooded back. Willow always rode shotgun in Blake’s car. His excuse? “She gets motion sickness in the back.” We’d make plans for a movie, but one call from Willow saying her game needed another player, and he’d ditch me in an instant. The money we’d worked so hard to save? He even suggested we lend it to Willow first for her “startup.” My every complaint was met with Blake’s dismissive “Why are you always so petty?” Seven years. I changed so much for Blake, learned to tolerate so much. I didn’t lose to love. I lost to him, and to his best friend who clearly didn’t understand personal space. Now, I refused to tolerate it anymore. Picking up my phone, I started making calls, one by one, canceling everything related to the wedding. “Amy, I’m so sorry, the wedding is off. Please keep the deposit.” “Hello, I need to cancel the wedding banquet for next month.” With every call, a layer of that seven-year weight fell away. Seven years wasted on a dog, but at least it wasn’t a lifetime. The relief was real. I’d gotten out in time.

Seraphina POV After Blake stormed out, my Instagram notifications blew up. Willow had just posted. The photos were a series of goofy selfies of her and Blake, but their poses screamed intimacy. The caption was a masterpiece of fake nonchalance: “Oops, got a little carried away living out a ‘what-if’ scenario! So sorry if it confused anyone. We’re just two chronically single besties who got a bit too into the bit. Back to our regularly scheduled programming!” Immediately, my phone began to ring off the hook. The messages were all from our mutual friends, their wording almost identical. “Seraphina, it was just a joke, don’t take it seriously.” “Seven years of a relationship isn’t easy, delete your Ins post and give Blake a way out.” “You know Willow’s personality, she’s like one of the guys, don’t overthink it.” I looked at these messages and let out a cold laugh. Everyone was on their moral high horse, telling me to “be the bigger person.” I saw it clearly: they were protecting that little circle centered around Blake. These people were Blake’s and Willow’s friends, never mine. I didn’t reply to a single message. I opened each chat, found their names, and blocked them, one by one, with resolute finality. After purging them, my phone rang again. It was Mrs. Harrison, Blake’s mother. I answered. “Hello.” On the other end, Mrs. Harrison’s voice was laced with that familiar maternal pressure. “Seraphina, Blake told me you two had a fight. Why are you breaking up over a silly little joke?” “It wasn’t a joke.” “Willow’s like a daughter to us, I watched her grow up. She and Blake have always been a bit wild together, you should be more understanding.” Mrs. Harrison’s words were all about defending Willow. “As Blake’s future wife, you need to be more understanding.” “Listen to me, delete that Ins post, and this whole thing can be over. Don’t let relatives and friends make fun of us.” And just like that, I understood exactly where Blake’s complete lack of boundaries came from. Willow’s presence was openly condoned. If I actually married him, the future was suffocating just to imagine. I cut her off. “This isn’t a joke; it’s a matter of principle. Blake and I have broken up. This decision won’t change.” Mrs. Harrison’s displeasure was palpable. “You child, why are you being so unreasonable?” I didn’t want to argue anymore. “Sorry, I have to go.” I hung up and blocked her number too.

Seraphina POV After hanging up with Mrs. Harrison, I thought of the wedding dress. It was my main gown, the one I’d personally helped design, making over a dozen trips to the studio. Now that I’d decided to break things off, I needed to deal with it-at least pay the final balance or see if it could be returned. I took a cab to the haute couture bridal shop. As I approached the VIP fitting room, before I even pushed the door open, I heard a familiar laugh from inside. “Wow, Blake, does it look good?” My hand froze on the doorknob. It was Willow’s voice. Then came Blake’s voice, full of doting affection. “Gorgeous! It looks custom-made for you, Willow. You’re beautiful in a wedding dress.” I shoved the door open. In front of the full-length mirror, Willow was twirling around, wearing my fishtail white gown. The layers of lace, the intricate details-I’d stayed up late sketching and refining those. Now, they were on another woman. And my fiancé, Blake, was holding his phone, finding angles to photograph her. Hearing the door, they both turned. Seeing me, a flicker of awkwardness crossed Blake’s face. “Seraphina? What are you doing here?” Willow, holding up her skirt, approached me with a sickeningly innocent smile. “Seraphina, don’t get the wrong idea! I just saw this dress. It was too beautiful not to try. You know I’m against marriage. I’ll never have a real wedding. So I thought, why not have a little pretend moment before yours?” She twirled, her skirt brushing my feet. “Seraphina, you don’t mind, do you? I’ll only wear it for ten minutes.” I looked at her, then at Blake. “Take it off.” Blake frowned. “Seraphina, what’s with the temper tantrum again? Willow was just curious; it’s not like she’ll ruin it.” “This is my wedding dress,” I stared at Blake. “It was custom-made for me. I was going to wear it on my wedding day. Blake, do you have any sense of decency at all?” “Are you done yet?” Blake impatiently put down his phone. “Willow is my best friend. It’s just a dress. Is it really worth getting so angry over? Fine, maybe I’ll just give her this dress for her to take pictures in later.” Give it to her? I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. My custom-made wedding dress, in his mouth, had become an item to appease another woman. “Oh no, Blake, don’t yell at Seraphina, it’s all my fault.” Willow put on a tearful act, trying to grab my hand in feigned panic. Just then, the glass of bright red strawberry fruit tea in her hand slipped. The red tea splashed out, most of it spilling onto the pristine white skirt of the wedding dress. Large, dark red stains rapidly bloomed across the snow-white lace. “Ah!” Willow shrieked, covering her mouth. “I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to!” Blake’s first reaction wasn’t even to look at the dress. He immediately pulled Willow closer, anxiously checking her hands and clothes. “Are you okay? Not burned, are you? Did you get your clothes dirty?” After confirming Willow was fine, he finally turned to the ruined dress and frowned at me. “See what you did? You had to come over and yell at her, scaring Willow so much she couldn’t even hold her cup steady. It’s fine. It’s just a little fruit tea stain, the staff can just send it for dry cleaning. Don’t make such a fuss.” I looked at the destroyed dress, my heart sinking further. “No need to clean it.” I looked up. “I find things that have been dirtied disgusting.” Blake froze. “What do you mean?” I turned, walked directly to the counter, and slapped the unpaid balance receipt onto the table. “Manager, I’m not returning this wedding dress. I’m paying the full balance now.” “Since Miss Willow likes it so much and also stained it, then Mr. Harrison can pay for it in full. Blake, didn’t you just say you wanted to give it to her for photos? Pay up.” Blake’s eyes widened. “Seraphina, are you insane? That’s hundreds of thousands of dollars!” “What? You don’t want to spend money on your dear ‘sister’?” I said. “Weren’t you so generous just now?” The surrounding staff and customers all stared, whispering and pointing. Blake gritted his teeth, pulled out his credit card, and slammed it onto the table. “Swipe it! It’s just a damn dress! Only you would treat it like a treasure! I’m buying it for Willow, so you can stop being sarcastic.” The card went through. Willow was still feigning reluctance. “Blake, it’s too expensive, I can’t take it…” “Take it!” Blake, scrambling to salvage the situation, barked the order. “Wear the damn thing whenever you like!” I met his gaze and gave a single, slow nod. “Remember you said that. The dress is yours now.” Then I turned and walked out of the bridal salon His frustrated shout chased after me. “Seraphina! Get back here! What is this now? You’re being impossible!” I didn’t stop. Tears fell, but I quickly wiped them away.

Seraphina POV When I got home at night, I felt a chill seep into my bones, and my stomach churned with spasmodic pain. Perhaps the anger from the bridal shop, combined with not eating all day, had triggered my chronic gastritis. I forced myself into the bedroom and pulled out my suitcase. I didn’t want to stay in this house for another minute. I began to shove my clothes into the bag. The cramping in my stomach continued, and I just wanted to finish packing quickly. Just then, I heard the sound of the key turning in the front door. Blake was home. He was carrying a few takeout containers. Seeing me pack, Blake paused, then a flicker of impatience crossed his face. “What now? I bought the dress, I paid for it, and you’re still not over it? Are you running away from home now?” In his mind, I was merely throwing a childish tantrum. I barely had the strength to argue with him. Clutching my stomach, I slowly sank to the floor. “Blake, do we have any medicine? Can you get me some water?” Blake frowned, walking over. “Don’t act like this. You were fine at the store earlier. How are you suddenly sick now that you’re home?” “My stomach hurts.” “It really hurts.” Blake scoffed. “Save it, Seraphina. How many times have you played the sick card when we argue? Can’t you come up with something new?” Though he said this, he still placed the takeout on the table and turned to get some water. Just then, his phone rang. Blake’s expression changed instantly. He answered the call. “Hello, Willow?” Willow’s tearful voice came through the phone. “Blake, the power suddenly went out at my place, I’m so scared…” Blake’s voice instantly softened. He patiently cooed, “Don’t be scared, I’ll be right there!” Blake hung up, grabbed his car keys, and started to rush out. “Blake…” I lay sprawled by the bed, using the last of my strength to tug on his pant leg. “I really don’t feel well, take me to the hospital…” Blake stopped, looking down at me. He spoke with irritation. “Stop faking it!” He roughly shook off my hand. “The power’s out at Willow’s, and she has claustrophobia. What if something happens to her? You just have a stomach ache. There’s stomach medicine in the cabinet; you can take a couple of pills yourself. Are you really going to die?” “You just had to put on a show right now. There’s a time and place for drama!” With that, he didn’t spare me another glance, striding out of the bedroom. BANG! The front door slammed shut. The pain in my stomach felt like it was tearing me apart, but the coldness in my heart was far worse than the physical agony. I curled into a ball on the floor, tears silently soaking into the carpet. It turned out that in Blake’s heart, half of my life was less important than a power outage at Willow’s place. This was the man I had loved for seven years. This was the man I wanted to spend my life with. After a long while, my hand trembling, I dialed 911. “Hello, emergency services, I’m having severe stomach cramps, my address is…” After hanging up, I struggled to my feet, rummaged through a drawer for painkillers, and dry-swallowed two pills. A bitter taste spread in my mouth. I looked at the empty room and suddenly laughed. Blake, since you love being with her so much, then stay with her forever. This home, this place, I don’t want it anymore. By the time the ambulance arrived, I had regained a sliver of strength. I refused the stretcher and walked into the ambulance myself. I was on an IV until midnight at the hospital before the stomach pain finally subsided. I pulled out the needle and went home alone.

Seraphina POV The next morning, Blake pushed the door open. I sat on the sofa, not even looking at him. Blake announced as he changed his shoes, “Willow was scared last night, so she’s staying in our guest room for a few days.” No sooner had he spoken than Willow poked her head out, wearing Blake’s oversized shirt and carrying the bag with the stained wedding dress. “Morning, Seraphina! Blake gave me this dress, I’m thinking of shortening it to wear as a party dress. You don’t mind, do you?” I glanced at the loose men’s shirt; it was Blake’s, now on someone else. I smiled. “Not at all. If you like picking up other people’s unwanted old clothes, keep it.” Willow’s face stiffened. She hadn’t expected me to hit back. Blake frowned, rebuking me with displeasure. “Seraphina, don’t be so nasty. It’s just a dress.” I scoffed, too tired for further argument, and turned to go back to my room. That evening, a pungent, spicy aroma filled the living room. Blake emerged carrying two bowls of noodles. Willow, already seated at the table, eagerly took one. “It smells amazing! Blake, you’re the best, you knew I was craving this.” Blake placed the other bowl in front of me. “There’s plain porridge in the pot, help yourself. Your stomach isn’t well, so no spicy food for you.” Willow ate, sighing dramatically. “Poor Seraphina, can’t even eat this delicious ramen, stuck with tasteless porridge.” I stood at the bedroom door, looking at the starkly divided dinner, and suddenly burst out laughing. I walked to the dining table and looked at Blake. My laughter clearly unnerved him. He impatiently looked up. “What are you laughing at?” “I’m laughing at your bad memory,” I said. “Blake, who told you I naturally love bland porridge?” Blake froze, then slammed his cutlery onto the table. “What new tantrum is this? You’ve been eating like this for three years! I’m doing this for your health, don’t be ungrateful.” “For my health?” I said. “I spent three years eating nothing but bland food with you. Did you seriously think I enjoyed it?” I leaned down, staring into Blake’s eyes, enunciating each word. “Blake, in these three years, did you ever once ask me if I wanted spicy food?” Blake was speechless, his mouth opening and closing. Then, he flushed with anger. “If you don’t want to eat it, then don’t! Eat it or don’t, I don’t care!” I straightened up. “Indeed. Things I don’t like, I won’t touch again.” With that, I turned to leave. “Wait.” Blake stopped me, his tone shifting to a calmer one. “Liam and the others are having dinner tomorrow night, at the usual spot. You should come too.” I paused, my back to him, saying nothing. Blake, assuming I was being stubborn, grew impatient again. “Don’t be difficult. This whole wedding dress thing has upset everyone. If you come tomorrow, it’s the perfect chance to make up with Willow, and then we can just move past all this.” He expected me to quietly show up tomorrow, bow my head, and then he’d forgive my “unreasonable behavior” of the past few days. Willow’s saccharine voice chimed in from behind him. “Exactly, Seraphina. Everyone’s waiting. Don’t be rude.” I turned to face them, this sudden united front. “Alright.” I looked at Blake and smiled. He frowned, but at my agreement, some of the tension left his shoulders. “Good. You’re finally being reasonable.” I didn’t answer and turned back to my room. Go? Of course I’m going. I had seven years of messy history to settle. Why would I leave out the supporting cast? I was going to let everyone know what kind of jerk Blake really was!

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After Jason lost his memory in a car crash, he forgot our ten years of love. He was welcomed back by his powerful birth family, matched with a perfect fiancée, and I became the gold-digging stranger clinging to his past. My flower shop was destroyed. He watched coldly as his fiancée pushed me to the floor. The child in my womb became a pool of blood. He only wrinkled his nose in disgust. “A gold-digger’s daughter, daring to dream above your station.” When fire trapped us both, he rushed to his fiancée without hesitation. As flames burned my skin, I heard his final dismissive words. “Amber, I never lost my memory. You owed me this.” “If there’s a next life, I hope we never meet.” In the darkness, I heard a sterile, mechanical voice. “Jason Thompson has traded his life for your rebirth.” I opened my eyes again. I found myself back to the day he woke up from the car crash, his memory gone. This time, I didn’t cry. I didn’t try to prove I was his girlfriend. Instead, I offered a calm smile. “Mr. Thompson. I am Amber Reed, your patron.”

“What did you say?” Jason stared at me, rigid, as if taken aback by my answer. Next to him, his fiancée, Sarah, scoffed. “Who are you?! A pauper like you, sponsoring someone? Don’t bring your stench of poverty around us.” But this time, I spoke clearly. “I am Mr. Thompson’s patron from the past ten years.” “The itemized expenses for the last ten years come to one hundred twenty thousand. My lawyer will send you the breakdown.” In my previous life, I’d cried, grasping his hand, recounting our decade of memories over and over, begging him to look at our matching rings. Who would have thought the man who swore to love me forever would publicly rip off his ring and toss it into the trash? Then, he had his bodyguards drag me to the police station, where I was held for 24 hours. The hospital room fell silent, everyone staring at me in shock. Jason’s face shifted, his hands unconsciously clenching into fists. He must have expected me to break down like before, begging him to remember me. That way, he could comfortably use his so-called amnesia like a knife, torturing me without end. His fiancée, Sarah, spoke up. “Is money all you care about?” “Exactly. Between him and me, it’s purely a financial arrangement.” I smiled, then turned to leave. Just then, my phone buzzed, the screen flashing to life, displaying a cherished photo of Jason and me as the wallpaper. Sarah snatched my phone with startling speed, smashing it to pieces, just like my ten years of youth. Then, a cup of scalding hot coffee was poured down, drenching me from head to toe. The hot liquid trickled down my hair and neck, a burning pain that made me tremble. “Who do you think you are, aspiring to his money?” I gasped, about to retaliate, but Sarah shoved me hard. Jason didn’t stir. Suddenly, I felt utterly bored. I pulled a set of keys from my pocket and tossed them at him. “This is the place you used to live. Get your things out within twenty-four hours.” “Otherwise, I’ll treat them as trash.” Jason, still on the hospital bed, his expression frozen. It was just that I’d been so deluded in my previous life that I hadn’t noticed these obvious cracks in his story. He opened his mouth, as if to speak. But I walked out of the room without looking back. A hand grabbed my arm from behind. “Amber!” I stopped, turning back to him. “Didn’t you lose your memory? How do you know my name?” A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes, but he asked again, “Was our relationship just about sponsorship?” I nodded. Isn’t this what he wanted? Last life, he denied our love. This life, I gave him what he wished for. The hospital room door wasn’t fully closed, and Sarah’s voice drifted out. “Jason, would you really settle for someone like that?” The room was silent for a moment. Then, Jason sighed. “Back then, I was dependent on their charity, with no real say.” “Calling her my girlfriend is generous; it’s more like I was a pet their family had ‘adopted’ and controlled.” He hurled insults at me, one after another, from my personality to my daily habits, as if demeaning me would solidify his current status. I remembered him once saying he couldn’t live without me. Burning his hands, leaving them covered in blisters, just to cook for me. Scrimping and saving for months just to buy me the necklace I liked. Yet, he could watch our eagerly awaited child turn into a pool of blood right before him and remain utterly indifferent. I touched my lower abdomen, tears silently falling to the ground.

I processed the flower shop transfer and contacted a private investigator. Back home, everything was still familiar. The wind chimes he made by hand hung in the living room, and the succulents on the balcony were neatly arranged-plants he watered every weekend. The fridge was filled with my favorite drinks, plastered with sticky notes. “Remember to eat breakfast.” “Temperature dropped today, wear more layers…” I traced those yellowing notes, then peeled them off one by one and tossed them into the trash. That night, I dreamt. In the dream, we still lived in this little house. He was in the kitchen, wearing an apron, experimenting with delicious recipes for me. I wanted to help, but he shooed me away to watch TV. He never let me get involved in household chores. He’d even wash fruit and bring it right to my mouth. When our passion burned brightest, we’d spend entire days nestled together at home, lost in each other’s kisses and embraces. I didn’t want to wake up until the doorbell jolted me. When I opened the door, a bank card slapped against my face. “Here’s your money.” “I’m here to get my things.” Jason stood there in a sharp suit, his face cold and unyielding, a completely different man from the one in my dream, wearing an apron. He had brought Sarah with him. The giant wedding photo in the living room hadn’t been taken down yet. Jason paused for a moment as he walked past it. If I hadn’t wanted to postpone our wedding after my parents passed, we would have been married last year. Everything was ready, just one step away from the final ceremony and registering our marriage at the government office. “You even manipulated Jason into taking wedding photos, still fantasizing about marrying into wealth, huh?” Seeing this, I grabbed the baseball bat from the corner and swung it hard. The glass of the photo frame shattered across the floor. “Amber! What are you doing?!” Jason’s face darkened. He instinctively grabbed Sarah, pulling her behind him, as if afraid I’d swing the bat at her. He pushed me away with his hand. I instinctively protected my stomach, and as I fell, my hand accidentally landed on the shattered glass. He looked at the twisted, broken wedding photo and scoffed. “So why were you faking it at the hospital?!” His gaze landed on me, as if asking why I wasn’t confessing. I didn’t speak, enduring the pain, and pulled all his belongings out in a heap. “Jason Thompson, do you still want this junk?” Sarah emerged from behind Jason, walking over in her heels, and kicked over a box. It was the first gift he ever bought me, a music box with a dancing figurine inside. The music box hit the floor with a crisp, shattering sound. Something I usually cherished fiercely was now split in half, but I felt nothing. Jason never answered, only instructing his bodyguards to move everything out. It wasn’t until he was leaving that he asked in a low voice, “Are you really going to let me go so easily?” I lowered my head and gave a bitter laugh. “Mr. Thompson, you’re joking. Isn’t this what you wanted?” In my previous life, if he’d just been honest, said he was tired of me, I wouldn’t have clung on. But he chose to act, giving me cold shoulders, letting Sarah target and humiliate me. Even when I had a miscarriage right there, he didn’t hold Sarah accountable. Instead, he blamed me for scaring her and demanded I apologize. He played me for a fool, tormenting me, and I could feel a subtle undercurrent of hatred from him. But I never knew where that hatred came from. Sarah grabbed my arm then, thinking I was still clinging to him. I couldn’t resist, and slapped her across the face. The slap echoed sharply, and the next second, Jason’s hand swung out. “What the hell are you doing?!” My head snapped to the side from the impact, my vision went black for two seconds, and my stomach throbbed faintly. My hand trembled, but I managed a smile. “You’ve got your things. Now get out.” I pushed them out the door, tears tracing the red mark on my cheek. My chest ached with pain and nausea. I couldn’t help but rush to the bathroom and retch. That slap felt like it settled the score for Sarah pushing me into miscarriage in my last life. Jason and I were finally even.

Sitting on a cold bench in the OB-GYN department hallway, I waited for my number to be called for my prenatal check-up. “What are you doing here?” Hearing Jason’s familiar voice, I clutched my three-month pregnancy check-up report tightly in my hand. “Doctor’s appointment.” He stared at the OB-GYN sign, his face changing, a hesitant look in his eyes. Just as he was about to say something, Sarah interrupted him. “Jason!” She scurried over in flats, grabbing his arm. “The doctor said you need to come in with me.” “My baby is three months along, and the doctor wants to go over some things with you, the expectant father…” My breath hitched. Three months. So early. In my past life, three months ago was the peak of his startup’s struggle. He was out constantly, and I’d felt so sorry for him, I’d even put my own flower shop on hold. I learned to cook all his favorite meals, tried to make things easier. It wasn’t the business that was consuming him. He had already found his wealthy birth family. He already had a child with another woman. No wonder he was so frantic when I struck Sarah. And in my past life, when I lost our baby…he showed nothing. No grief, no anger. He already had a spare. Sarah noticed me, her expression mocking. “What, are you pregnant too?!” “Don’t think you can come to the hospital with some fake report and trick your way into marrying Jason Thompson.” I forced a smile. “Ms. Sinclair, if you have trust issues, you should see a psychiatrist. Not everyone is desperate for your man.” Sarah’s face instantly flushed, and she started to play the victim. “Jason, why is she talking to me like that?” “Last time, if it weren’t for her slap, I wouldn’t have had unexplained stomach pain and bleeding!” Jason’s face was colder than ice. Then, with his silent permission, two bodyguard-like men walked towards me and dragged me into the stairwell. Without a word, they grabbed my hair, forcing my head back. A loud slap landed on my face, and another bodyguard raised his leg, aiming for my stomach. I’m pregnant too! I struggled desperately, but the bodyguards slapped me several times. I closed my eyes in despair, instinctively protecting my lower abdomen. But it was useless. They kicked my stomach with full force. My stomach hurt so badly. Sarah still wasn’t satisfied. But Jason stepped in front of me first. “Sera, the doctor said you shouldn’t get too agitated; it’s not good for the baby. Let’s leave it at that for now.” Jason’s voice was gentle as he held her shoulder, half coaxing, half escorting her away. He never once glanced at me, curled up on the ground. Blood flowed all over the floor beneath me, my stomach was in agony, and I felt the tiny life inside me slowly fading away. Finally, a passing nurse found me and helped me onto a stretcher. Ding. My phone screen lit up. It was a message from Jason. I didn’t open it; I just dragged his number straight into my blacklist. I lay on the hospital bed, tears silently tracing paths down my face. My baby was gone. I stayed in the hospital for two days, until my flower shop employee called me, saying someone had trashed my store. My body hadn’t fully recovered, but I endured the pain and rushed over. … Just like in my previous life, Sarah came to the flower shop to cause trouble. Even after what happened at the hospital. She wasn’t someone who would let things go. I stood at the doorway, calmly watching everything unfold. Sarah imperiously directed everyone, smashing my flower shop to smithereens. Glass shards exploded, grazing my calves, but I felt no pain. I remembered once, while arranging roses, my finger was pricked by a thorn, and a bead of blood appeared. Jason saw it, held my hand, his brow deeply furrowed. He ran to find a bandage, muttering for me to be careful in the future. But now, he merely stood beside Sarah, oblivious to the destruction, letting her vent. His gaze fell on me, devoid of guilt or concern. In his eyes, I saw a struggling resentment. He hated me. I didn’t know what he hated me for. Did he resent our seemingly unequal relationship from the past? Or did he resent my family for having sponsored him, making him feel indebted and unable to hold his head high? I looked up, meeting Sarah’s gaze. “When you’re done smashing everything, remember to pay for the damages.” Sarah laughed as if she’d heard a joke. “Pay? Jason, did you hear that? She actually wants money. Is this cheap woman insane from poverty?” As she spoke, she grabbed an unbroken vase nearby and threw it at my head. I dodged, and the vase shattered against the wall behind me. I stepped forward, intending to fight back, but Jason’s hand clamped down on my wrist. Jason’s eyes blazed with fury, and he roared, “What right do you have to fight back?!”

He shoved me hard, and I laughed. “Jason, I never intended to cling to you. Why won’t you just leave me alone?” “I’ll be leaving here soon, and I won’t appear again…” Jason’s eyes, however, were full of doubt and disbelief. Sarah scoffed. “Who are you trying to fool? You think you’ll give up that easily?” “And your deadbeat parents, using sponsorship as an excuse to force Jason to marry you. Your whole family was scheming against him.” “Let me tell you, if you dare show your face in front of Jason again, I’ll have someone desecrate your parents’ graves.” My face turned cold. This time, I grabbed Sarah’s hair and slammed her head into the mangled, scattered roses. She shrieked. Her eyes were dangerously close to being pricked by the thorns. Jason wrapped his arms around me from behind, dragging me back. Finally, the bodyguards who rushed in pinned me to the ground, screaming hysterically. Sarah took the opportunity to play the victim, crying as she hugged Jason. “Jason, I’m so scared! She tried to kill me and our baby…” “If you touch my parents’ graves, I swear I won’t let you go!” Jason held her tightly. His face was cold, his eyes like ice. “Amber, how do you know I wouldn’t?” My pupils contracted. My parents had brought Jason home, sponsored his education, and treated him like their own son. He had knelt before their ashes, sobbing, vowing through tears that he would never forget their grace, that he would protect me until his last breath. But now, his words were utterly merciless. I had thought, at the very least, he would spare their memory. It wasn’t until a bodyguard handed him a phone, displaying a picture of my parents’ desecrated graves, the tombstone shattered. Jason’s eyes showed no flicker of emotion, silently condoning the insult. My heart wrenched, and my whole body convulsed with pain. My eyes, fixed on him, felt like they would bleed. “Jason, why?! What did they do wrong…” What did I ever owe him? He shifted his gaze, avoiding my question. “You provoked Sera. She’s carrying my child.” I laughed. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. Despair, powerlessness, and suffocation drowned me. Even a second life didn’t make me worthy of the truth. “Just let me go. I won’t bother you again.” Jason’s gaze wavered for a fraction of a second. Then it hardened. “Sera will cover the cost. But you will apologize to her.” I took a deep breath and stood up. Under his doubtful gaze, I slapped him hard across the face. He looked at me in disbelief, mixed with anger and hurt. But I’d had enough of his performance. I turned and left the flower shop. Jason moved to follow me, but Sarah cried out that she felt faint. He had to quickly scoop her up and get into the car. Then, he pulled out his phone and sent a message to his assistant. “Check Amber Reed’s hospital records.” … Days later, en route to the airport, the investigator’s encrypted file hit my inbox. As I read the contents of the first page, my hand trembled violently, and my blood ran cold. So that was why. That was why he’d changed overnight, faking amnesia to look me in the eye and lie. That was why he’d tossed away a decade like it was nothing!

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I heard that the girl Kamran Thorne was interested in this time had been with her struggling boyfriend for years. Kamran was relentless in pursuing her, taking what he wanted, by force if necessary, no matter the consequences. The girl fought back like a cornered Monster, refusing to yield, even if it meant her ruin. The night he finally got her, fireworks burst over the ocean, blooming for them all night long. The next day, expensive jewelry and lavish gifts flooded her home, as if money were no object. My friends told me all this when they came to the mental hospital to drop off my clothes. I coughed up a mouthful of blood, then suddenly passed out. When I woke up, Kamran, whom I hadn’t seen in six months, stood by my hospital bed, giving me a warning. “Angela, as long as you promise not to bother her, I can let you come home and enjoy all the privileges you deserve as Mrs. Thorne.” Finally, I nodded weakly in agreement. Because just before I collapsed, I’d learned my brother Nealon had lost everything in an investment last month, saddled with massive debt. Only with Kamran’s financial support had Nealon avoided ruin. It’s just cheating, isn’t it? For Nealon’s sake, I wouldn’t make a fuss anymore.

On the way home, my driver got into a rear-end collision. The car flipped, the driver was unconscious instantly, and I was severely injured. As the ambulance rushed to the scene, I suddenly regained a flicker of consciousness. With what little awareness I had left, I instinctively fumbled for my phone and called Kamran. It rang for a long time before someone picked up. I swallowed the metallic taste of blood welling in my throat and spoke with difficulty: “Kamran, I…” Kamran’s voice held an edge of impatience. “Didn’t I already send a driver to pick you up? I told you I’m busy, Angela. Can’t you be more understanding?” The phone’s receiver suddenly filled with noise. A familiar voice. The girl’s desperate cry came through: “Kamran, you can do whatever you want to me, but why would you hurt *him*?” Kamran’s voice was calm, but his words sent a chill down my spine. “Seraphina, I told you. If you dared to accept his proposal, I’d make sure he spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair.” So, the sweet, innocent-looking girl Kamran was so desperately protecting was named Seraphina. I suddenly remembered why that voice sounded so familiar. It was the sound I’d made the first time I discovered Kamran was cheating, smashing everything in sight. Kamran always knew how to drive people insane. On the other end of the line, Seraphina was crying, begging Kamran to spare her boyfriend. Before I completely lost consciousness, I heard Seraphina’s pleas. “Please, be gentle…” Her cries shifted from enraged curses to soft, broken whimpers. When I woke up, Kamran was sitting on a sofa nearby, fiddling with his phone. He noticed my gaze. He hesitated, then reached out as if to check my forehead for a fever. I turned my head away, my voice hoarse. “I’m fine.” Kamran scoffed, pulling his hand back abruptly. “Angela, you just got out, and already you’re pulling stunts like a car crash. Haven’t you learned your lesson?” My mind went blank. “I’ve told you many times, no one will ever threaten your position. You are my only wife, Angela Thorne.” “What good does it do you, fighting with some young girl fresh out of college, only to end up covered in injuries?” He thought my car accident was a desperate tactic to win his affection against Seraphina. I opened my mouth, but found anything I could say would sound weak and useless. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” After all, I knew I had no right to argue now. Kamran seemed pleased by my surrender. My brother called to tell me Kamran had pre-paid his next month’s debt. See? If I just disappeared into the background, if I knew my place, Kamran would take care of all our problems. “If you’re so miserable, Angela, then leave him. Divorce him.” “I’ll figure out the money, I promise.” My arm ached from holding the phone. I’d heard it all. Our family’s assets had been seized and put up for auction. Cars, houses—everything vanished overnight, and it still wasn’t enough to fill the hole. My brother, Nealon, had been beaten by debt collectors, moved from our palatial riverside mansion to a dark, damp basement in just three days. I heard that when Kamran found him, Nealon was curled up on a cramped twin bed, eyes closed, face pale, blood on his lips. His blanket didn’t even cover his legs. On the floor lay an unopened takeout box. We were utterly ruined, with no other choice. Now Kamran was offering cars, a house, and endless funds. All I had to do was turn a blind eye and let him have his ‘beautiful love’ with Seraphina. In our current situation, what right did we have to refuse? I managed a weak smile. “I’m not miserable. Just being blind, that’s all. I can do it.” After being discharged, I tried to be a dutiful wife. I stopped asking about Kamran’s whereabouts or his spending. When Kamran needed a ride home after drinking at a business dinner, I gave the driver Seraphina’s number. When Kamran said he wanted my homemade mushroom soup, I expertly dialed Seraphina’s number and asked her to deliver it. When Kamran complained his newly tailored cufflinks didn’t have a matching suit, I told Seraphina to contact Kamran’s private tailor. Until three months later, Kamran, uncharacteristically, called me himself. He said he was coming home for dinner tonight.

After dinner, as I mechanically prepared his suit for tomorrow, He suddenly pinned me beneath him. “You’ve been so quiet lately, almost… unlike yourself…” As a flurry of kisses rained down on my face, Seraphina’s usual gardenia perfume quickly filled my nostrils. The room’s temperature abruptly rose, making the scent even more intense. A strong wave of nausea suddenly surged in my throat. I forced myself to hold it back. But then, at the peak of it all, Kamran whispered *Seraphina’s* name. My mind went blank, my knuckles white as I gripped the pillow. The next second, I found a surge of strength from somewhere, pushed Kamran away with all my might, And rushed to the bathroom, dry-heaving over the toilet bowl. Kamran followed me closely. Seeing my actions, the lust in his eyes instantly vanished. He leaned against the doorframe, a slight frown on his brow, his tone impatient. “What’s wrong with you?” I didn’t answer him, the continuous retching echoing through the bathroom. He lost patience, simply dropping a line: “Go to the doctor tomorrow for a check-up.” The roar of his car faded downstairs, taking my sleepiness with it. I curled up in the corner of the bed, desperately trying to suppress the physical discomfort. But it seemed useless. So I got out of bed. Rummaging through drawers, trying to find some medicine, I found a pearl necklace in the back of the cabinet. It looked cheap, its metal settings faded. The cold metal in my palm suddenly grew hot, burning me so badly I almost dropped it. I remembered Kamran’s toughest year. We were twenty-two. To test his abilities, his family cut off all his financial resources, forcing him to start from the bottom. The pampered heir who used to blow millions a month was now earning a meager salary, wearing cheap, off-the-rack clothes, squeezed into a crowded employee dorm. My heart ached for him, and I secretly gave him half of my allowance. Under the moonlight, his voice choked. “Angela, it’s so good to have you.” To earn money to buy me a birthday present, He took on every odd job he could, working until he was seeing stars, refusing to stop. When he handed me a pearl necklace, his face was flushed. “The quality of this pearl is definitely nothing compared to what you have in your closet, Angela. If you don’t like it, you can just say so…” I didn’t refuse. I took off my latest designer necklace and wore that pearl necklace year after year. Many times later, that necklace became Kamran’s token to soften my heart. Snapping out of the memory, I clutched the necklace and walked to the balcony, flinging it forcefully into the air. The pearl necklace disappeared into the flowerbed, out of sight. Two months later. Someone arrived at the door. Seraphina. She wore a chic, designer-style suit, and an expensive watch adorned her wrist. Even her earrings were the ones Kamran had bought at auction for a fortune recently. I knew she had accepted Kamran’s possessive love. Like many women, she had come to make me step aside from Kamran’s marriage. “He doesn’t love you anymore. There’s no point in you holding onto this position.” “And I need the title of Mrs. Thorne to shed the label of ‘mistress’.” But now, *I* also needed that title. I only had my brother left. I could give way on everything else, but not this. Seeing no reaction from me, a flicker of hatred crossed her eyes. She slammed her hand on the table and stood up. “Angela, why can’t you keep Kamran in check?” “Why did you let him drive me and my boyfriend to the brink?” “I’m like this because of your incompetence! You’re the one who ruined me!” “If I’m not happy, then you and Kamran, you won’t be either, you disgusting cheats!” She lunged at me, her full weight pressing down on me. My lower back slammed against the metal-edged table corner, the intense pain making me momentarily speechless. I tried to push her away. But before I could even apply force, she suddenly fell to the floor herself, sending plates and silverware crashing to the floor. I turned around and saw Seraphina clutching her stomach in pain. The fabric beneath her quickly stained red with blood. She… was pregnant? The screams of the house staff echoed in my ears, and Kamran’s panicked shouts came from the entryway. The next second, a swift, brutal slap landed across my face. The blow was so hard I tasted blood on my lips. “Angela!” “I thought bringing you back these past few months meant you’d learned your lesson. I never thought you’d still be so stubborn!” An indescribable bitterness surged, rising to my throat, thick with the metallic taste of blood. My voice hoarse, I defended myself: “I didn’t push her…” Kamran didn’t listen to my explanation. He scooped Seraphina up, holding her close, and bolted out the door, his composure shattered. The man who usually remained unflappable even at the negotiation table now had a back that trembled subtly with fear. A week later, I received a call from my brother. “Angela, can you please ask Kamran why he suddenly disconnected the bank account for repayments?” “If it’s too much trouble, then forget it…”

I mumbled a reply, understanding in my heart that Nealon was always too proud. He wouldn’t have called me unless he was truly desperate. When I called Kamran, he picked up quickly, as if he’d been waiting for my call. “What card? Oh… that one. I thought it might have been compromised, so I unlinked it. Is there a problem?” Kamran’s tone was dismissive. But his words felt like a heavy hammer blow to my heart. My hands twisted my shirt hem nervously, and I forced myself to speak. “But Nealon can’t wait, Kamran. Please, can’t you be considerate of me, just this once, like you used to be…” *Kamran*. It had been a long time since I’d called him that. Kamran fell silent for a moment. After a rustling sound, Seraphina’s voice came through. “Angela, don’t you know the company is facing financial strain lately? You and your brother are like bottomless pits; no matter how much money is given, it’s never enough. You’ll drag him down eventually.” Financial strain… The headlines I saw this morning suddenly flashed in my mind. “CEO Kamran Thorne Lavishes Millions for Love! Multi-Million Dollar Mansion, Luxury Car Titles All Registered to Seraphina Hayes!” Financial strain, it was because of this, wasn’t it? An endless bitterness spread across my tongue, like insects gnawing relentlessly, making my heart tremble with pain. “Kamran has left this matter to me. If you can appease me enough, he’ll naturally repay your brother’s debt.” I agreed without hesitation. “I’ll send you an address. Come find me tomorrow, and I’ll tell you.” I never expected Seraphina to send me the address of *my* old family home. Standing at the gate, looking at the familiar exterior, I felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as if stepping into a different lifetime. The cherry tree outside the door was in bloom. When Kamran and I planted this cherry tree together, he asked me, “Do you know what cherry blossoms symbolize?” I shook my head. He leaned down, gently biting my left ear, his hot breath on my earlobe making my heart pound. “Angela, I’m your prisoner of love.” A spring breeze blew, bringing me back to reality. I gave a self-deprecating smile. Entering the courtyard. In front of the massive French windows, the sunlight made the indoor furniture gleam, filtered through the white sheer curtains. I saw two intertwined bodies sprawled on the very chair my mother cherished most. Kamran’s breathing was ragged, his voice laced with both seduction and a hint of punishment. “So, you promised you wouldn’t go too far.” Seraphina playfully pushed his shoulder, giggling. “You gave me this house. Why are you still telling me what to do?” What did she mean… he *gave* her this house? I rushed into the house, distraught, and confronted him: “This house, did you really give it to her?” Kamran got up from Seraphina, slowly wrapping his bathrobe around himself. “Yes, the paperwork is being processed.” The moment those words left his mouth, my ears buzzed. I couldn’t hold back my emotions anymore. Like a madwoman, I lunged at Kamran, hitting him. “Why would you give it to her! You promised that as long as I listened to you, this house would be returned to me!” “Kamran, why did you give it to her, why?!” He grabbed my flailing hands and shoved me roughly onto the sofa. Even though the sofa was soft, a dull ache still throbbed in my lower abdomen when I hit it. “She lost a baby. This house is my compensation to her.” “If you had lost a baby that day, I would have compensated you too.” “And Angela, don’t forget why you’re here today.” In an instant, I forgot how to cry, how to shout, how to hate. When a sliver of rationality returned, Seraphina had also gotten dressed. “Angela, I haven’t quite decided how to punish you. How about… you get down on your knees and beg me?” Meeting Seraphina’s haughty gaze, a powerful sense of humiliation instantly erupted within me. But I knew I couldn’t refuse. The room fell silent. For a moment, I only heard a soft, muffled thud. It wasn’t my knees. It was my spine, straight for twenty-six years, that snapped completely in that moment. Seraphina smiled. “I don’t have all day to spend here with you.” “This is your house. You must know where the security cameras are, right? If I check the security footage and don’t see you on your knees, then I probably can’t help your brother.” With that, she linked her arm with Kamran’s and left. My abdominal pain grew worse. I was in too much pain to straighten up. Every time I tried to stand and catch my breath, The security camera in the corner would subtly shift. The person behind the camera seemed to be reminding me, over and over, that if I dared to run, dared to stand, My brother would be ruined. As night fell, I suddenly felt a warm gush between my legs. By the moonlight, I saw my pants were already stained crimson. Terrified, I called my brother. I cried, telling him I was dying, that I was bleeding so much. My brother, Nealon, arrived. He was still in his uniform from his part-time job. He trembled as he scooped me up and ran towards the ambulance. “Angela, don’t sleep! Keep your eyes open for me!” “Angela! Don’t you dare fall asleep!” Before I was wheeled into the operating room, dimly, I saw Kamran. It was the first time I’d seen him so distraught since we got married. The man who usually kept every strand of hair perfectly in place now wore his coat inside out in his carelessness. Could he actually look so panicked for me? But I didn’t want to see him anymore.

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My husband, Liam, had been taking me, eight months pregnant, to this cheap fried chicken place daily. He always ordered the same $4.99 combo. I told him I was sick of fried chicken and asked him to get me a salad instead. He slammed the fried chicken right into my face, his eyes practically spitting fire. “I drive a cab every day to support you, and you still dare to be picky? Ungrateful bitch!” Then he immediately turned, flashing a fawning smile at Tiffany, the curvy, sexy owner of the fried chicken shop. “My apologies! My wife is just being extra about that! Tonight, all the fried chicken in the shop is on me!” With that, he snatched $1000 from me and handed it to Tiffany. That $1000 was for my prenatal checkup today. I forced a bitter smile. I remembered how, ever since we got married, Liam and I had moved into a cramped, dark basement apartment, scrimping on every single penny. Liam always used to reassure me: “When I make it big, I’ll treat you and our child like royalty.” But I never expected him to cheat before he even made it big. Sobbing, I ran to the Dean’s office and collapsed into his arms. “Dad, I’m so sorry. I want a divorce!”

“Bang!” The fried chicken smacked hard against my head, sauce dripping down my hair and into my collar. Before I could even react, a swift slap sent my head reeling to the side. My head was buzzing. I pointed at him, utterly incredulous. “You just hit me?!” Tiffany, the owner, who had been busy in the back, rushed over with a worried look. “What’s going on? Liam, your wife is pregnant, and pregnant women are so emotional. If she did something wrong, you just need to be more understanding.” She shot me a sly glance, a smug smirk playing on her lips in the shadows. Liam, who had just been furious, instantly plastered on a smile. “Yes, you’re right. You’re so thoughtful.” Did something wrong? All I said was I didn’t want fried chicken anymore. I just wanted a salad! For a pregnant woman, eating fried chicken every single day was totally unhealthy. Tears welled up in my eyes, unbidden, as I clutched my enormous belly, feeling completely lost. The whispers around me grew louder, and Liam awkwardly cleared his throat. “Chloe, I’m trying so hard. Look, even for fried chicken today, I only ordered one for you. I didn’t even get one for myself.” The cheap perfume Tiffany wore, mixed with the greasy smell of the fried chicken shop, grated on my nerves. But my good manners, however, wouldn’t let me make a scene. I took a deep breath, hastily wiped my face with a tissue, and started to leave. Tiffany, still grinning, stopped Liam. “Liam, what about this broken plate…?” “Oh, my bad. It messed up your business. I’ll pay for the plate.” He spoke fawningly, then turned to everyone in the shop. “My apologies, everyone! My treat tonight, order whatever you want!” The customers cheered and clapped. “What a generous guy!” “We know a man’s struggles!” “Another 10 bottles of beer over here!” Cheers erupted, mixed with boisterous shouts, drowning out everything else. My steps faltered, and my hands, hidden in my sleeves, clenched into fists. For the first time in my life, I didn’t wait for him. I hailed a cab and left alone.

It was a thirty-minute drive, and already past ten at night. I, a heavily pregnant woman in her third trimester, took a cab from downtown to the suburbs, and Liam hadn’t sent a single text apologizing or asking if I was okay. Clutching my phone, my stomach gave a sharp, painful lurch. The taxi slowly pulled up to a muddy, narrow alley. I was just about to pull out my phone to pay when I heard a “ding!” “Your bank card has been debited $1000.” I stared at the message that popped up, my mind going blank with a sudden “boom.” “Come on, pay up! Stop dawdling, I’ve got another fare waiting!” the driver impatiently snapped. “Right, right, sorry.” My hands trembled as I entered my PIN, but the machine flashed “insufficient balance.” “How about this, sir? I’ll run upstairs and get you cash.” The driver slammed a fist on the steering wheel, furious. “Hurry up! If you don’t have money, why call a cab? What a freakin’ pain in the butt at this hour!” I bit back tears and hurried upstairs, got the money, and sent the driver off. Even as he drove away, I could hear him muttering curses about me. Choking on the exhaust fumes, I slumped onto the curb, utterly defeated, burying my head in my arms and sobbing. I don’t know how long passed before someone hugged me from behind. A wave of stale alcohol hit me. “Get lost,” I pushed him away. Liam didn’t pull back; instead, he rested his chin on my shoulder, nuzzling gently. “Baby, driving a taxi has been so stressful lately. I’ve been neglecting you, I’m sorry.” My body stiffened. He used to do that back when we were dating, a little trick to charm me. It meant he was hoping for forgiveness, no matter how badly he’d screwed up. I touched my belly and sighed deeply. Maybe he really was under too much pressure. Back home, I immediately turned on the heater and started to shower. Halfway through, the light went out. A cold draft swept through, and I couldn’t stop sneezing. I yelled outside: “Liam, why did the heater turn off! Did we run out of electricity credits?” I called again and again, but silence. What was going on? Our apartment was tiny, barely 500 square feet. Was he deaf? No choice, I quickly finished my shower and went out – the water heater was off. “Liam! Liam! Get out here, now!” I stomped my foot, screaming, so angry I could barely breathe. He hurried out, wearing an apron, a chef’s knife still dripping water in his hand. “Did you turn off the water heater?” I asked, softening my tone. “Sorry… electricity is just too expensive. You’re not that delicate, are you?” “I’ll make you a bowl of hot noodle soup to warm you up.” He then ducked back into the kitchen. While I waited at the table for five minutes, I checked our remaining electricity credits. Sure enough, we were in arrears again. A wave of sadness washed over me. Watching Liam busy in the kitchen, my chest felt tight and uncomfortable. The noodles were brought out – just clear broth and plain noodles, not even a single green vegetable. I took a bite. It was bland and tasteless, like he’d forgotten the salt. Liam, wiping his hands on his apron, looked at me expectantly. “How is it? Good?” I ate two bites, then couldn’t manage any more. I looked around our cramped apartment, feeling even more stifled. “I’m going to go wait tables at the restaurant. I need to earn back the electricity money.” Liam nodded like a bobblehead.

My main job was a nurse; the restaurant work was a side hustle, from 10 PM to 11 PM, for $10 an hour for the graveyard shift. The icy water was brutal, making my chapped hands ache and turn a painful red, constantly splashing onto my belly. My baby seemed to protest too, a few sharp kicks against my ribs. Dirt and grime clung to my fingers, and I saw what looked like a customer’s vomit. My hand trembled. “Crack!” The plate slipped from my grasp and shattered on the floor. Mr. Henderson, the manager, stood with his hands on his hips, jabbing his finger hard into my temple, his voice booming. “What do you think you’re doing?! Get out! You’re not working today!” I sharply raised my head, tears blurring my vision. “Please, no! You know my situation…” Mr. Henderson glanced at the leftovers on a nearby plate, grabbed a random plastic bag from the floor, and started dumping the food in. Greens, roasted chicken, sweet soup… all mixed together, it looked like pig slop. The tied-up plastic bag was unceremoniously tossed to the floor. “Take this and get out! Aren’t you always pulling these little stunts?!” Mr. Henderson sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, intentionally raising his voice to mock me. I walked home like a zombie, my stomach aching with hunger. Clutching my lower back, I went to the kitchen and found the noodle bowl and forks still sitting in the sink, unwashed. I headed straight to the bedroom. What greeted me was a room in utter disarray: clothes, shoes, instant noodle cups… everywhere. Liam was sprawled on the bed, sleeping soundly, snoring like a freight train. Was he that tired? I was exhausted too… Enduring the aches, I washed the dishes in the kitchen. When I went to throw out the trash, I saw two eggshells at the bottom of the bin. The tears I’d held back for so long burst forth when I saw those two eggshells. He’d put two eggs in his noodles earlier—but hadn’t spared a single one for me. Hadn’t he always sworn he’d suffer before he’d let me suffer? My heart ached with sharp, pulling pains. I placed a hand on my belly and took deep breaths, trying to calm myself. After washing up, I curled into a small corner of the bed. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I remembered my anomaly scan appointment for tomorrow. I pushed Liam hard twice, but he didn’t react, only mumbled something, rolled over, and continued sleeping. Unable to take it anymore, I slapped him across the face. “Liam! You used my card to pay that tramp, what about my prenatal checkup tomorrow?!” He suddenly threw off the covers and sat up, glaring at me and roaring. “Figure it out yourself! All you ever talk about is money, money, money! If you need money, you figure it out!” “You’re just a gold-digger, and you’re calling that hardworking woman names? You’re the pathetic one!” Me, a gold-digger? I broke ties with my family to be with him! I gave up my career as a resident physician to become a registered nurse, and now I don’t even have money for my prenatal checkup, and somehow it’s my fault? “Get out! I don’t want to see you!” I screamed, my voice hoarse. He only raised an eyebrow, a mocking look on his face. “If anyone’s getting out, it’s you. Don’t you dare forget who actually paid the rent this month!” “You…” A sudden, intense pain shot through my stomach. I clutched my belly, gasping for air. Instinctively reaching out for help, my hand trembled, but then I heard Liam scoff. “Faking it again, huh? You loved playing the victim when we were dating. Looks like old habits die hard, even now.” Then he pulled the covers over his head and went back to sleep.

My heart sank. I could only sit on the bed, groaning in pain, waiting for the agony to subside. “Are you serious? You’re still faking it?” He sat up again, looking annoyed. But when he saw my cold sweat and my body trembling, his expression changed. “What’s wrong with you? Let’s go, I’ll take you to the hospital. This is my first kid, and I’m not risking bad luck by losing it!” He bent over, and the jacket from his suit slid off the bed and fell to the floor. A stack of white papers spilled out. The word “Contract” was clearly visible. What contract? Alarm bells went off in my head. Along with Liam’s startled cry, I quickly reached out and snatched them up. The title boldly proclaimed: Contract for the Acquisition of a Fried Chicken Restaurant Chain. Party A: Liam Smith. Party B: Tiffany Jones. Liam snatched the contract from my hands, his face frantic, his words tumbling out incoherently. “Chloe, I didn’t mean to pretend to be poor. I was just testing if your love for me was true.” “I’ll transfer the money to you right now.” “Your PayPal account has received $10,000.” Ten thousand? I scoffed, turning my face away. To think that our marriage, which meant more than anything to me, was just a game in Liam’s eyes. I was nothing but a fool! Seeing I didn’t react, Liam suddenly dropped to his knees with a thud and began to hit his head on the floor, begging. Again and again, and soon his forehead was streaked with blood. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I’ll give you my debit card right away.” He’d never cried in front of me before, but now tears streamed down his face, and he was sobbing like a child. “Will you come with me for my prenatal checkup tomorrow?” My father would definitely check the results of my checkup. He wouldn’t be at ease if I went alone. Liam’s face clouded over again, and he scratched his head. “But tomorrow I have a very important company meeting.” Furious, I threw a pillow hard at him, and he just gave a silly laugh. I lay down, ignoring him, trying to sleep, but he insisted on pressing close to me. He plastered on that familiar, shamelessly eager-to-please expression, just like when we first got married. Unfortunately, we could never go back. Clutching my swollen belly, I walked alone down the corridor of the obstetrics and gynecology department. Everywhere I looked, there were couples. From time to time, people would look at me and sigh. “How pitiful, so far along in her pregnancy and alone at the hospital.” “Yeah, her husband is so irresponsible. He probably won’t take care of her after the baby is born either.” Their whispers felt like daggers in my back, and I quickened my pace. In the office, Dr. Davis, the head of obstetrics and gynecology, praised me while performing my ultrasound. “The baby is very healthy.” Seeing me keep my head down and say nothing, he added: “Your dad still cares about you. He knew you were coming today and specifically asked me to be here to look after you.” “Really?” My voice caught in my throat. I had wronged my father, hurting him for a scumbag. But I was also so confused. After all, the baby hadn’t been born yet, and Liam had promised to change. “By the way, what’s your husband’s name? Why isn’t he here today?” I gave an awkward laugh. “He has business at work. His name is Liam Smith.” Dr. Davis suddenly fell silent, unmoving, frowning in thought. My heart skipped a beat. “What’s wrong, Dr. Davis? Is there something wrong with the baby?” “Oh! I just remembered, there was another pregnant woman whose husband had the same name earlier.” “That couple was so sweet. The husband even spent a fortune to book a luxury VIP suite at the hospital for his wife.” I froze, a dreadful premonition rising within me. After asking for the room number, I politely but firmly refused Dr. Davis’s offer to accompany me. I had to go alone. By the time I reached the hospital room door, I could barely stand, steadying myself by gripping the doorknob. What if it wasn’t him? Maybe it was just a coincidence. There are so many people with the same name in the world. I quietly pushed the door open a crack. The moment I saw the familiar figures inside, I collapsed to the floor. There, intimately close on the hospital bed, were Liam and Tiffany. Liam rushed over in a panic to help me up, but I violently shook off his hand. “Get lost! You’re disgusting!” With that, I stumbled to my feet and ran toward the Dean’s office. Tears streamed down my face. By the time I saw my father, I was sobbing uncontrollably, throwing myself into his arms with overwhelming grief. “Dad, I’m so sorry, I was wrong! I want a divorce!”

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My daughter was hit by an entitled rich kid speeding on a pedestrian walkway. He was drunk. Multiple rib fractures, and her thigh bone was shattered. She’s still in a coma. His parents want to settle. He was arrogant, utterly self-righteous: “Sign this legal waiver. Don’t ruin my son’s future.” Rage burned away my sanity. I grabbed the waiver and slapped it across his face. “You wish!” Mr. Sterling smirked, his gaze sweeping over me from head to toe. “The law says compensation for a fatality is barely a million. And your daughter isn’t even dead. How about two million, plus medical expenses?” As he spoke, he pulled out a bank card, a smug look on his face. “Don’t recognize it, do you? This is an exclusive global black card.” My eyes landed on the card. It had the unique pattern I knew so well. It was the birthday gift I’d given my wife. In that instant, my eyes turned blood red with fury, a gaze that could kill. “How much is your son’s life worth? Name your price. I’ll buy it.”

When I rushed to the hospital, my legs were so weak I could barely stand. My daughter,Belle, was covered in bandages, lying silently and unmoving in the ICU. The traffic police showed me photos from the scene. Chloe and two other girls looked like broken dolls, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles, white shirts soaked crimson. The doctor said she’d had a brush with hell, just barely made it. After three days of keeping vigil byBelle’s side, I received a call from her school. The driver’s parents wanted to meet. I arrived at the school to find a man in an expensive suit scrolling on his phone on the sofa. He barely lifted an eyelid, saying casually, “You must beBelle’s dad. Have a seat.” As he spoke, Mr. Sterling handed me a legal waiver. “Don’t waste time. Just sign it. Don’t mess with my son’s future.” He was so arrogant, so entitled. Overwhelming rage threatened to consume what little sanity I had left. The image ofBelle, drenched in blood, kept flashing in my mind. I clenched my jaw, my hands trembling violently. I tore the so-called waiver into pieces and threw them at his face. “Your son is unforgivable. Dream on!” I instinctively lunged at him, throwing a punch, wanting to smash this man in front of me to pieces too! How dare the perpetrator act so high and mighty, so rude! But the school teachers quickly held me back, acting as if they were blind. “Mr. David, please calm down. Blake’s parents are sincerely here to seek your understanding.” Mr. Sterling gently brushed the paper scraps from his face, his eyes full of arrogant mockery. “I’ve looked into it. Your daughter only wears clothes that cost a few hundred bucks to school, no brands. I guess your family is just working-class.” “The law says compensation for a fatality is barely a million. And your daughter isn’t even dead. How about two million, plus medical expenses?” “Two million for a family like yours must be a fortune. Saving a hundred thousand a year would take twenty years. Getting two million from one car accident is both my goodwill and your family’s luck. What more could you possibly want? Don’t be so greedy.” I stared at him with boundless hatred and murderous intent, my whole body trembling as I yelled: “Your son was drunk driving and speeding on a pedestrian street, causing three serious injuries and dozens of minor ones! He deserves to spend the rest of his life in prison!” Mr. Sterling feigned a raised eyebrow, then curved his lips into a sneer. “Ever heard the saying, money can solve everything? Besides, I have power backing me. Otherwise, why isn’t there a single ripple about this incident online? Because I…” He raised his hand and made a downward pressing motion. “Paid people to suppress it.” As he spoke, he flashed an exclusive black card again, his pride and arrogance fully on display. “Know what this is? A top-tier global black card. Only those with assets in the hundreds of billions qualify. It’s a number you’ll never even imagine in your lifetime.” Seeing the familiar, unique pattern on the black card, my already shattered heart plummeted. That was the supplementary card I’d given my wife, Valerie! Now, Valerie’s lover wants to use the card I gave him to buy off my daughter’s life! Memories flooded back clearly: A month ago, Valerie had asked for a birthday gift, wanting an expensive car. I agreed. The model matched the one that hit my daughter. Three days ago, the head of PR said Valerie, Ms. Valerie, needed help controlling public opinion. WithBelle injured, I was too distraught to care and silently agreed. In that instant, a metallic taste filled my throat, but I swallowed it back. My eyes were murderous, my voice chilling. “Then how much is your son’s life worth? Name your price. I’ll buy it.”

Mr. Sterling’s face showed a flicker of surprise, then he “hehe-ed” with a laugh. “I know you’re upset your daughter is hurt, but being hotheaded won’t solve your family’s problems. Besides, how much money could you possibly have?” I just stared at him, my gaze grim. “Name your price.” Mr. Sterling looked even more surprised, then seemed to understand. “You think our compensation is too little, huh? How about three million? Any more than that, and your daughter just isn’t worth it.” I repeated myself. “I said, I want to buy your son’s life. Name your price.” He looked me up and down, then burst into laughter, as if joking. “Ten million. If you can afford ten million, you can have my son’s life. Haha, too bad people like you couldn’t save up that much money in this lifetime, let alone the next.” I nodded. “Ten million. It’s a bit expensive for someone like him, but I’ll buy his life.” With that, I sent a message to my assistant. Mr. Sterling scoffed, and even the teachers tried to dissuade me. “Mr. David, snap out of it. Blake’s family isn’t someone you can afford to offend. You might not even be able to pay for your daughter’s medical bills, and you’ll lose your job.” I usually taughtBelle to be modest, but I never expected the teachers at this elite private school to be so disgusting. No one knew I was the chairman behind Veritas Group. Valerie, as CEO, was just a figurehead. “I’ve recorded everything you just said. And I’d like the teachers to be witnesses.” Mr. Sterling was thoroughly annoyed. “Fine, so you refuse to sign no matter what, huh? Then you won’t get a single penny. I’m telling you, my wife has already dispatched Mr. Hayes, Veritas Group’s Chief Legal Expert, he’s never lost a case.” I nodded again. “Perfect.” The surrounding teachers looked at me with extremely strange expressions. “This guy must have gone crazy from his daughter being hit, how pathetic. What a shame, he’s up against the husband of Veritas Group’s CEO. Everyone in New York knows Veritas Group.” As Mr. Sterling grew more triumphant, the parents of another victim arrived. Mr. Sterling repeated the same demands to them. The child’s parents looked torn. The child’s mother cried, “We can’t sign it! Our child is injured all over, how can we just let the perpetrator off? I can’t accept it!” The father sighed, “But treatment costs money. And how can we fight against a wealthy family like theirs? If we don’t sign, we might not get a single cent!” The mother cried even harder. “My poor child, why are you so unlucky?” Just as they hesitated, about to sign, I stood up and stopped them. “Don’t sign. He doesn’t have the money to compensate you. And I’ll cover your children’s medical expenses and all future treatment.” The parents looked at me in surprise. Mr. Sterling glared at me, annoyed and mocking. “What are you talking about? With this black card, two million, even ten million, is a matter of minutes.” Even a teacher grabbed my arm, frowning. “If you don’t take the money, don’t stop others. They’re much wiser than you.” My gaze was ice-cold, but a smile played on my lips. “So confident, huh?” I turned and gripped the father’s hand, looking at their sorrowful faces. Tears streamed down my face. We were all parents. “Have Mr. Sterling swipe the card right now. Otherwise, he doesn’t have the money.” The father squeezed my hand back, nodding through his grief. The elite private school’s finance department quickly brought a POS machine. “Swipe the card first. The school will transfer it to the parents’ accounts.” Mr. Sterling arrogantly raised his hand and swiped the black card on the POS machine. “Your bank card has been frozen.”

He swiped it again, but the mechanical female voice just kept repeating, “Your bank card has been frozen.” “How is this possible?” Mr. Sterling’s eyes widened in shock. The other parents looked at me, grateful. “Thank you for the warning, otherwise we wouldn’t have gotten the money and that jerk would have walked free!” Mr. Sterling, humiliated, irritably ran his fingers through his hair, then dialed Valerie’s number. A young man’s voice answered. “Dad, aren’t you done yet? Mom and I are waiting for you to come back and eat at the new five-star hotel. Are those poor people asking for too much money? Damn it, they’re really trying to take advantage!” “Get your mom on the phone, fast.” Then I heard a familiar voice, a voice that for the past twenty years had said good morning to me every single day. I clenched my fists, my heart bleeding. I swore to send this and their Asshole child to hell! Mr. Sterling hung up, his expression still arrogant. “You’ll definitely get the money, just a bit later. Hurry up and sign.” The parents shook their heads firmly. “We won’t sign. We’ve decided, we want that jerk to pay for what he did!” The mother wiped her tears, her lips trembling with indignation. “How can my daughter’s life hang in the balance while that jerk casually talks about which hotel to eat at? My daughter is a living, breathing person! Our family isn’t rich, but our daughter is our life!” Every word from the mother struck a chord in my heart. I wanted to ask the same thing: How can this be? I patted the father’s shoulder, stating confidently, “Don’t worry about the costs.” Mr. Sterling scoffed. “I’m telling you, my lawyer will be here any minute. By then, you won’t get a single cent. Your children can just wait to die.” Even the teachers tried to help him. “I say, don’t fight with rich people. While Mr. Sterling hasn’t changed his mind, quickly take the money and sign. Do you really believe this man’s crazy talk? If there’s truly no money for treatment, what good are his words? The child’s future will truly be ruined.” The mother trembled with anger. “I’ve never seen so much blood in my life. I keep wondering if all the blood in her body has drained out. I want that jerk to pay blood for blood!” As she spoke, I saw the same horrifying scene in my mind. I swallowed my tears, each one like a knife. Just then, a well-dressed, bespectacled man knocked on the door. Mr. Sterling’s face lit up. “You must be Mr. Hayes, the Chief Legal Expert of the group.” Mr. Sterling was beaming with pride, glancing at us. “My lawyer is here. My son won’t suffer any consequences, and you won’t get a single cent.” The parents clenched their fists, glaring at the newcomer with resentment. I glanced over, a sarcastic curl on my lips. “Oh really?” My people should be arriving soon too.

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Jillian planted 9,999 roses herself to propose to me. When the 9,999th rose finally bloomed, I was moved. On our first day of marriage, I prepared 99 reconciliation coupons. We agreed: whenever she made me angry, she could use one coupon to make amends. Over seven years of marriage, every time she upset me over childhood friend matters, she would hand me a coupon. It wasn’t until the 97th card that Jillian noticed something had changed. I stopped nagging her to be careful or acting like I needed her. I just grabbed her arm when she left me for her childhood friend again and asked, “If you go to him, can I use a card to cancel that decision?” Jillian hesitated for a moment, then looked at me with a helpless sigh. “Go ahead and use it. There’s still plenty left anyway.” I nodded quietly, watching her walk away. She still thought those cards were infinite, that she could keep using them forever. But she had no idea, there are only two remained. Today was the gala for our company’s biggest client. It was also exactly one week after my appendectomy. Jillian’s childhood friend Jason spilled red wine on the client’s CEO. Jillian’s first concern was checking if Jason was okay. Then she turned to me. “Liam, go apologize to Mr. Johnson.” I stared at her in shock. The CEO was dabbing at his suit, clearly furious. “So your company likes dodging responsibility, huh? The one who should apologize is hiding.” Jason’s eyes watered as he leaned on Jillian’s shoulder, acting like he was the one who’d been wronged. Jillian put her hand on his shoulder and fixed me with a serious look. “Why aren’t you apologizing? What are you standing there for?” “Go toast with Mr. Johnson. We can’t let this partnership fall through, no matter what!” She forgot I was still recovering from surgery and strictly forbidden from drinking alcohol. Or maybe she just didn’t care about my health at all. Jason smirked at me with provocation in his eyes. He’d known all along Jillian would push me to take the fall. He also knew Jillian would always protect him, never letting him face the consequences. I wasn’t about to take the blame for his mistake, but Jillian suddenly leaned in and whispered: “One Get Out of Jail Free card.” To marry me, she’d planted those 9,999 roses herself. Each one was supposed to prove her devotion. When the last rose bloomed, I said yes at our engagement party surrounded by family and friends. That’s when she promised: “Liam, you’re the love of my life! If I ever betray you, I swear…” I covered her mouth before she could finish. Watching her make that vow among the flowers, I was completely captivated. Wanting to match her gesture, I had a friend design 99 Get Out of Jail Free cards. I told her, “When these run out, I’m gone for good!” In the early years of our marriage, Jillian guarded those cards like they were gold, terrified I’d cash one in during an argument. But after her childhood friend moved back from overseas, she burned through 97 of them in just one year. This was the 97th. I bent slightly, wincing from the pain in my abdomen as I addressed the CEO. “Mr. Johnson, I sincerely apologize for what happened.” The CEO glanced at me, shaking his head with a sigh—no real hard feelings. As I bowed, I caught Jillian straightening Jason’s collar. “Be more careful next time. What if you’d hit a table corner and gotten hurt?” “Got it, Jill. You always look out for me.” “Always?” Pain spread from my surgical incision, draining the color from my face. Just a little longer. She had two chances left.

After the party, all I wanted was to head straight home, but there was Jillian standing with Jason—they looked like the picture-perfect couple. She turned to me with a cold expression. “Liam, you’ll have to grab a cab back. Jason twisted his ankle; I need to get him to urgent care first.” It was like she’d completely forgotten I was hurt too. Her eyes were filled with worry—for Jason. Back in the day, I would’ve probably gone on about how much pain I was in, begging her to take me to the ER too. I would’ve cried, asking why I had to apologize when I hadn’t done anything wrong. But now, I just nodded quietly. “Sure.” Jillian visibly relaxed, her expression softening slightly. “Liam, be careful getting home alone.” No sooner had she spoken than Jason stepped forward and took her arm. “Jill, my ankle’s killing me. Can we please hurry?” Jillian’s blazer was draped over his shoulders, and he was practically leaning his full weight on her. She didn’t spare me a second glance—even though I was pale and in pain myself. She just helped him to the car and got him settled in the passenger seat. “Stay still, don’t jostle it.” It wasn’t until she’d gotten him settled and was about to drive off that she finally looked over at me standing on the side. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, Liam. He’s basically family. Just head on home.” I managed a faint, bitter smile. “Right. Family.” Afraid she’d think I was mad, I quickly added, “You already used one of our get-out-of-jail-free cards. I’m fine.” Jillian hesitated, as if she wanted to say something. Jason let out an overdramatic groan, and she immediately turned back to him. “We’re leaving now.” With that, Jillian drove off, leaving me standing alone at the hotel entrance. I pulled my jacket tighter against the chill. Once home, I grabbed the reconciliation vouchers from the side table. The stack Jillian used to keep locked safely in a safe now just sat there casually. I stamped the 97th voucher, then pulled out the divorce papers I’d prepared earlier. Having trouble finding a lawyer, I decided to call my old professor. “Professor Hayes, if I’m looking to get divorced, do you have any lawyer recommendations?” Professor Hayes sounded shocked. “Divorce? You? Who’s getting divorced here?” “I remember you two were the campus sweethearts. It’s only been a few years. What happened?” Professor Hayes had even witnessed our proposal. How did we ever get here? There’s no going back now. From the first time she chose others over me. From all the inside jokes she shared with Jason—jokes I couldn’t even join in on. From the nights she stayed out with Jason instead of coming home. A third wheel always spells the end for a relationship. We’d grown too far apart. There was no fixing this. Professor Hayes sighed. “Leave this with me. I’ll have someone reach out soon. Just tell them what you need.” I stared at the last two vouchers in my hand and said slowly, “Okay, thanks Professor.” Jillian walked in just then. “Who were you talking to? Professor Hayes?” She was carrying a shopping bag, which she set on the table. I hung up and turned to her. “Nothing important, just asking about something.” Jillian frowned, eyeing me suspiciously. “What kind of questions? At this hour?” I furrowed my brow. “Nothing important, just some lab data.” She finally sat on the couch and pushed the bag toward me. “Here, this is for you.” The bag was from my favorite French patisserie. Jillian used to bring me desserts from there all the time. That place was always packed—lines out the door daily. She’d wake up early and wait for hours, just because I mentioned wanting to try it once. I never wanted her going through all that hassle. But she’d just kiss my forehead and smile. “If you want it, I’ll get it myself. Even if you wanted the stars, I’d find a way to grab ’em for you.” We really did have some great memories, back in the day. “How did you… What’s this?” I opened the bag. No desserts inside—definitely not what I was expecting. Just a stained shirt and a crumpled bedsheet. I looked at Jillian. She shifted uncomfortably under my stare. “Jason’s clothes got dirty, and the bedsheet has a bad stain. He hurt his hand, so he can’t get it wet. I thought I’d bring them home and ask you to take care of it.” The more she talked, the more defensive she sounded. Her expression hardened. “Don’t be so difficult, Liam. You’re both guys—you get it. If it’s too much trouble, just use another get-out-of-jail-free card.” I couldn’t even find the words to respond. I’d just had surgery myself and couldn’t overdo it, but she didn’t seem to remember that at all. And there she went again, bringing up those stupid vouchers. Only one left. But with that indifferent look on her face, I bit back my objections. Jason’s clothes were expensive tailored suits—each piece needed special care. Looking back, I’d been so naive. All that so-called “thoughtful care” I prided myself on? Honestly, it would’ve been easier to just take them to the dry cleaner.

I left the shirt and sheets by the door to take to the cleaners tomorrow, then headed back to our bedroom. Jillian looked up, smiling when she saw me. “My amazing husband, you took care of that so quickly! That’s Jason’s favorite shirt—make sure it gets perfectly cleaned.” I nodded and reached for my face mask. I also grabbed the iPad from the nightstand to watch something. Jillian was typing furiously on her phone, clearly texting someone. A notification popped up on my iPad. I tapped it and realized Jillian’s iMessages were syncing to my device. “Jill, you’re the best shopper! I haven’t had real desserts like these in forever.” “That place always has such a long line. You must have gone through so much trouble.” Jillian glanced at me, then kept typing. “Glad you liked them. I’ll pick up more next time.” “What can I say? You’re the best little sister!” Jason replied right away: “What about my sheets? Is it really okay to make Liam clean those stains? If he minds, don’t worry about it.” Jillian smiled, looking completely smitten. “It’s fine. Stubborn stains need special treatment, and I can’t stand the thought of you doing it. He’s used to handling this stuff.” I froze, staring at Jillian. Since we got married, I’d handled every chore around the house—from changing lightbulbs to fixing leaky pipes. No wonder she thought I was “used to it.” I set the iPad down, unable to read another word of their conversation. After I washed off my mask, Jillian suddenly leaned in and whispered: “Liam, Jason needs me for something. You get some rest.” I curled up in bed and mumbled a response. As she put on her jacket, I asked quietly: “Jillian, if you don’t come home tonight, I’m using another Get Out of Jail Free card, okay?” I looked at her, my voice cracking with sadness. She didn’t even pause while adjusting her collar. She smiled like always: “Go ahead and use it.” Jillian brushed her hair back, completely unbothered. “I’ll be back soon. You probably won’t even need to use that card today!” Watching her casual attitude, I looked away coldly. “Okay.” It was 10 PM. She’d said she’d be back soon. I ordered my favorite dessert from that bakery using a delivery app. Meanwhile, Jason posted on Instagram, celebrating a date with his girlfriend. Right then, Jillian texted me: “Found Jason. Heading back soon.” It was almost midnight. I pulled up an old post on my phone—the one I made after accepting Jillian’s proposal. I hit “share” to my story. “Time really flies.” Jillian commented with a heart emoji. Then she sent me a photo of an office desk. “Still at work. Miss you.” I closed our chat. I didn’t bother replying. She must have forgotten I took that photo with her phone last month. It wasn’t even taken today. She was lying to me and trying to pacify me at the same time. Jason posted another update, like he was sending me a message: “You promised we’d get married when we grew up. You broke that promise, but said you regretted it.” In the photo, their hands were clasped together—Jillian’s small mole on her index finger was clearly visible. I sat on the couch, watching the proposal video Jillian had made while eating the dessert I’d ordered. The dessert I used to love tasted empty, flavorless. Maybe I didn’t like it anymore. And it wasn’t just the dessert I’d fallen out of love with. Jillian didn’t send any more messages. I put my phone on the coffee table and started packing my things. It was past midnight. I was about to use the last Get Out of Jail Free card. My phone suddenly rang. It was Jillian. “Liam, are you asleep? Don’t wait up. Something came up, and I won’t be home tonight.” “Go ahead and use the card. I’ll bring you dessert tomorrow. I’m busy here, gotta go.” Jillian hung up before I could respond. The dial tone brought me back to reality. As I put my phone back on the coffee table, I knocked over a cup. The custom mug we’d made together after getting engaged shattered into pieces. Maybe it was a sign our relationship should end cleanly too. I opened my messages and found Jillian’s chat. “I didn’t get to tell you earlier, but the Get Out of Jail Free cards are all used up.” “Let’s get a divorce.” My phone immediately started blowing up with calls.

I didn’t answer or reply. I put it on silent and let it buzz beside me. And just like that, our relationship was completely over. At Jason’s apartment, Jillian panicked when she saw that message. She bombarded me with calls and texts. “What are you talking about? There should still be plenty of cards left! Stop being dramatic, okay?” “Is this because I wasn’t home? I’ll explain everything when I get back.” “Why aren’t you answering! Liam, even if you’re mad, you can’t do this.” “Answer the phone! I’m serious!” She couldn’t believe I would just leave like that, sending message after message. After countless calls and texts, dread settled in Jillian’s chest. “How could this happen… We agreed not to fight about this. Why isn’t he answering…” She started remembering how I’d seemed distant every time I used a card. Things that should have made me angry got no reaction at all. Realizing she was losing control, Jillian kept calling as she headed for the door. Jason suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pressing his face against her back. “Jill, where are you going? You promised to spend the whole day with me.” Jillian pried his arms off, pushed him away, and ran out the door. She sped home, ignoring the speed limits. When she opened the front door, everything looked normal—but she still couldn’t relax. Walking further in, she saw ceramic shards scattered across the floor. She knelt down and picked one up— It was our custom mug. The mug lay shattered, our faces on it broken beyond recognition. She gathered the pieces, then stood up and pushed open the bedroom door to find me. It wasn’t until she saw all my things were gone that reality finally hit her. Jillian sat on the bed, staring at the empty room, completely lost. The iPad’s lock screen was our photo. She reached out, wanting to touch it. She wondered where I could have gone. Where else did I have to go after leaving here? She kept searching, and her eyes landed on something on the table. They were the Get Out of Jail Free cards I’d made—every single one stamped. Her hands shaking, she spread the stack of cards across the table. She tried to rub off the red stamps, but they wouldn’t budge. She counted them—all 99 of them. Jillian remembered our wedding day, when she’d confidently told me: “Liam, I’ll never use a single one of these! I’ll love you forever.” Another memory flashed—her standing next to Jason, impatiently telling me to use a card. Years of love, carelessly thrown away in the year Jason came back. She who once hated seeing me upset had used those cards recklessly, never thinking twice. Every time, she’d used this shortcut to get my forgiveness, then tossed me some gifts as so-called compensation. She never thought our relationship would actually have problems. After all, every time she used a Get Out of Jail Free card, she’d still symbolically buy me something. She saw it as compensation for me and a reward for my “not making a fuss.” With that thought, she opened my closet. Inside, neatly arranged, were all the things she’d given me. I hadn’t taken a single one. A few duplicate shirts, an unworn watch. She thought of the gifts she’d given Jason—she always knew he loved a certain brand of limited edition sneakers. So she’d pre-ordered every new seasonal release and had them delivered to his apartment. Those sneakers cost a fortune, each pair. They were nothing like these thoughtless, generic gifts she’d given me. Seeing it all clearly, Jillian fell silent. How had our once passionate love become so careless? She sat on the couch, unable to sleep all night, slowly piecing together how we’d gotten here. The next day, as soon as Jillian got to the office, Jason followed her in. “Jill, rough night? Here’s your coffee. And this is the new partnership proposal.” Jason set the coffee on her desk and reached to massage her shoulders. She used to love feeling needed like that. But thinking about my leaving, her expression darkened even more. She dodged his hand, pushed the coffee aside, and started looking at the proposal on her desk. As she read through it, she realized it was completely unfocused. It was unreadable—a total mess. If this went to a client, we’d not only lose the partnership but tank the company’s reputation too. Jillian set the proposal down, silent for a moment before speaking: “Who wrote this? How dare they hand me something like this?” “Where’s Liam? Didn’t he review this?”

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Today, Julian’s first love, Valerie, returned. The same Valerie who, three months ago, falsely accused me of pushing her down the stairs. Now I was on the floor. One of the men stepped closer, his hands going to his belt. “Mr. Sterling, this is your wife. You’re really just throw her away?” Julian turned his back and walked away. “When you’re finished, dump her in the ocean.” Cloth tore. Cold air bit into the exposed skin of my back.. Seven days. Just seven more days. Until my brother’s surgery was over. Until the five million hit the offshore account. Then, Seraphina Sterling would cease to exist. Seraphina POV Even the roar of the casino floor couldn’t drown out the wet, sickening crunch of breaking bones. My right pinky finger was crushed under a leather shoe. Mr. Hayes’ jowly face quivered, and a glob of thick, yellow phlegm landed with a wet smack on my hand. “Already can’t take it, Mrs. Sterling? Julian told us that besides playing the piano, those hands are amazing at… pleasuring men.” The room was packed with onlookers. Some held up their phones, recording, others whistled and jeered. I didn’t scream. I bit down hard on my lower lip until it bled. I looked up. Julian stood by the railing of the VIP lounge on the second floor, swirling a half-empty glass of red wine. His voice, flat and emotionless, echoed through the speakers. “Mr. Hayes, enjoy yourself. After all, if Seraphina can’t pay back the debts her family ran up, those hands are useless anyway.” Another sickening crack. This time, it was my ring finger. Mr. Hayes pressed down, grinding his heel from side to side. “Julian is truly generous! Then I won’t hold back!” I felt icy sweat trickle down my forehead, soaking into the strands of hair plastered to the grimy floor. I stared at the figure on the second floor. Three years ago, it was these very hands Julian had cupped, making a solemn vow. “Seraphina, if anyone dares to touch your hands, I’ll take their life.” Now, he was the one twisting the knife. Because this morning, Valerie had returned from overseas. His ‘first love’, the one who’d accused me of pushing her down the stairs three months ago, was back after two months of ‘treatment’ abroad. For months, Julian had ‘atoned’ for Valerie’s ‘suffering’ by inflicting double the torment on me. I watched from the floor as Mr. Hayes unbuckled his belt. The laughter around me grew louder. “Julian, this is your wife, supposedly. Are you really throwing her away?” Someone shouted up to the second floor. Julian turned. “She’s broken. Dump her in the ocean, let the fish have her.” That was his answer. My breath hitched. My left hand, braced on the floor beside me, clawed into the thick carpet. Two of my fingernails tore off with sickening pops. Mr. Hayes bent down, his greasy hand reaching for my collar. “Hear that? Your husband doesn’t want you.” Fabric ripped. Large swaths of my skin were exposed to the cold air. With my good left hand, I fumbled inside my shirt, pulling out a perfectly folded piece of paper. A hospital bill. The ICU, twenty thousand a day. That was my brother, Caleb’s, life. Mr. Hayes paused, seeing me clutch the paper to my chest as if guarding my very last breath. “Two million.” I said, “Mr. Hayes, if I survive this ‘game,’ I want two million.” Mr. Hayes stared for a second, then burst into roaring laughter. “Mrs. Sterling, are you trying to cut a deal with me? Fine! If you down this bottle of liquor and then crawl through my legs, I’ll give you five million, not just two!” He kicked a bottle of potent vodka towards me. The bottle slammed into my broken fingers. Agony ripped through me, making my entire body convulse uncontrollably. I emptied the bottle. My stomach felt like it was ablaze, the burning sensation momentarily eclipsing the pain of my shattered fingers. I crawled on the floor, inch by agonizing inch. And slowly, I passed between Mr. Hayes’s spread legs. The entire room fell silent. Only the frantic clicks of camera shutters filled the air. Mr. Hayes hadn’t expected me to actually do it. His face twisted into a furious scowl. He pulled a checkbook from his jacket, scribbled on a check, and slapped it onto my face. “Go buy yourself a coffin!” I picked up the check with my left hand and saw the number. Five million. Enough. Enough for Caleb’s surgery next week, enough to keep him stable for another six months. I stumbled to my feet, clutching the bloodstained check. No one cared about me. The crowd dispersed, moving on to the next round of revelry. I staggered out of the hall and reached the edge of the deck. My phone buzzed. A bank transfer alert popped up, followed by a screen full of missed FaceTime calls from ‘Julian’-that was before yesterday. Then, a new alert flashed. From the contact saved as L. “Package secured. New identity at the dead drop. Wheels up in seven. This is your last window.” I lifted my gaze to the endless, swallowing dark of the open sea. I took a photo of the five-million-dollar check and sent it to Dr. Miller at the hospital. In the chat box, I typed a single word. “Okay.” Seven days. I had to endure him for seven more days. Just until Caleb’s surgery was complete. Until that money was clean and resting in an offshore account. Then, Seraphina would cease to be.

Seraphina POV At three in the morning, I pushed open the front door. The house was dark. My right hand, still untreated, was crudely wrapped in a bandage. A figure sat on the living room sofa. “Finally decided to come home?” Julian’s voice was hoarse, laced with mockery. The lights flared on. I raised my hand to shield my eyes, a movement that pulled at my fresh wound. Julian wore a black shirt, his collar open, revealing a dark red hickey on his collarbone. It was new. “What’s wrong? Didn’t please Mr. Hayes enough? Got kicked out?” Julian stood, stepping closer, one slow stride after another. A wave of stale cigarette smoke, tainted with a cloying, unfamiliar woman’s perfume, hit me like a physical blow. I said nothing, trying to walk past him and go upstairs. He grabbed my wrist, his fingers clamping down right on the shattered bones of my hand. A raw scream ripped from my throat. My reaction seemed to enrage Julian further, and he tightened his grip. “What are you playing at? Three months ago, when you pushed Valerie down the stairs, I didn’t see you acting so fragile.” “I didn’t.” It was a phrase I’d repeated countless times over the past three years. “Didn’t?” Julian flung my hand away. I slammed into the entryway console, my right hand taking another heavy blow. I curled into a ball, cold sweat dripping onto the floor. Julian loomed over me. “The doctor said Valerie’s leg has permanent damage; she’ll never dance again. Seraphina, your hand being broken is just karma. You deserve it.” He picked up a document from the coffee table and threw it at me. The sharp corner of the paper grazed my cheek. “Sign it.” I picked up the document with my left hand. A ‘Cornea Donor Consent Form’. Recipient: Valerie. I looked up at Julian. “What happened to her eyes?” “Complications from her car accident a year ago. Retinal detachment. She needs a transplant.” Julian’s tone was flat. “Your cornea is the highest match.” “I won’t sign.” I threw the document back at him. “You don’t have a choice.” Julian bent down, pinching my chin. “Caleb’s still in the ICU at St. Jude’s, isn’t he? Time for his surgery payment this week, too?” The five million was still processing; it wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow at the earliest. If Julian cut off the hospital’s medication now… “You’re a monster.” “Not as much as you.” Julian released my chin, then meticulously wiped his fingers on a tissue as if I was something vile. “Back then, to marry me, you drugged Grandpa, forcing Valerie to leave the country. What part of that wasn’t despicable?” I opened my mouth. Explain? Explain that Valerie swapped Grandpa’s meds? Explain that she skipped town because she got paid off by Sterling Corporation, Julian’s biggest rival? It was useless. All the evidence had been destroyed. Only Valerie’s perfectly crafted, fake ‘diary’ survived. Julian only believed what he saw. “Sign it, and I’ll cover Caleb’s surgery.” Julian said, his final words. I looked at the document. One cornea. For Caleb’s life. It was a fair trade. What did it matter? I’d be gone in seven days. One less eye wouldn’t stop my disappearance. “Okay.” Julian’s movements froze. He frowned, looking at me. “Pen.” I extended my left hand. Julian handed me the pen. I scrawled my name clumsily in the signature box. The handwriting was ugly, the messy scrawl of a useless lefty. “When is the surgery scheduled?” I asked. “Next Monday.” Next Monday. The seventh day. I calculated the timing in my head. If I could just delay until the last moment before the surgery, Valerie wouldn’t get the cornea, and Julian would be so preoccupied with the surgery preparations that his guard would be down. Perfect. “Fine.” I handed him the document. “But I have a condition.” “You’re in no position to bargain.” “These next few days, I’m staying in the guest room. Also, find me a doctor to set my hand.” I held up my hand, swollen like a pastry. “Otherwise, if it gets infected, it’ll mess with my vitals, and the cornea quality will drop. You want that?” Julian stared at my hand for a few seconds. “Mr. Davies will bring a doctor.” He snatched the document and turned to leave. He stopped at the staircase, not looking back. “Valerie moves in tomorrow. You’d better stay out of her way. Don’t let me catch sight of that grim expression on your face.” “Got it.” Julian’s back stiffened for a moment, then he strode upstairs. The master bedroom door slammed shut, shaking the house. I slid down the wall, collapsing to the floor. I pulled out my phone and sent a message to “Liam”. “Plan change. Evacuation moved to Sunday night.” Sunday night. The eve of the surgery. That would be when Julian was least vigilant, and most consumed by his fury. I glanced at the closed door upstairs. Julian, you want atonement? Here it is. But you’ll never get this eye.

Seraphina POV In the early morning, the mansion’s front doors were slammed open. A dozen movers poured in, bustling in and out of the house. My belongings were tossed out one by one. My piano scores, my orchids, even our wedding photo hanging in the entryway-all were bundled up and thrown into the trash can in the yard. Pink shag carpets, giant diffusers, and a pristine white Steinway grand piano were hauled inside. I sat on the small balcony of the guest room, a glass of water in my left hand. A sweet, tinkling laugh floated up from downstairs. “Julian, does this vase look good here? Is it in the way?” Valerie sat in a wheelchair, dressed in a white lace dress, a delicate porcelain doll. Julian stood behind her, pushing her wheelchair, his eyes soft with tenderness. “Whatever you like. The whole house is yours, change it however you want.” “But… won’t Seraphina be upset?” Valerie looked up timidly. “There’s no Seraphina here,” Julian said. “Only a maid who’s about to be kicked to the curb.” I heard every word clearly. A maid. Indeed, in three years of marriage, the most I’d done was serve him. Just then, a knock came at the door. Mr. Davies stood there, holding a maid’s uniform. “Ms. Seraphina.” Mr. Davies’s tone shifted quickly. “Julian has instructed that there’s a party tonight, and we’re short-staffed. He wants you to change into this and help with serving drinks.” I looked at the ridiculously skimpy maid’s uniform. “I’m injured.” I pointed to my casted hand. “Julian said that if one hand’s useless, you still have the other.” Mr. Davies placed the clothes on the bed. “If you don’t change, Caleb’s situation…” Caleb, again. I closed my eyes. “Get out.” After Mr. Davies left, I changed into the uniform with one hand. The dress was tight, making it hard to breathe. I looked at myself in the mirror. Pale, gaunt, like a ghost. Good. The more pitiful I looked, the more Julian would relish it, and the less he’d suspect me. At six in the evening, guests poured into the house, Julian and Valerie’s entire social circle. These were the same people who, back then, had scoffed at me as a “desperate hanger-on.” Now, their eyes were filled with smug amusement and thinly veiled contempt. “Well, well, isn’t that the former piano prodigy? Look at her, dressed like that!” “Heard she sold her husband for money? Still clinging to the house?” “Utterly shameless.” Valerie was surrounded by guests, smiling, radiating happiness. When she saw me approach with a tray, a flicker of pure malice darted through her eyes. “Seraphina, darling, could you fetch me a glass of red wine?” Valerie’s voice was soft. I walked over, my left hand holding the wine glass steady. Just as I handed it to Valerie, her hand suddenly trembled. Red wine splashed across Valerie’s pristine white dress. “Ah!” Valerie shrieked, her eyes welling up. “My leg… it’s so cold…” “What happened!” Julian shoved through the crowd, practically throwing me aside. Losing my balance, I fell to the floor. My casted hand slammed against the table corner. The agony made my vision swim, then black out for a second. “Seraphina! Are you trying to die?!” Julian knelt to check Valerie’s leg. “Julian, don’t blame Seraphina… I just lost my grip…” Valerie sobbed, tears streaming down her face. “Seraphina must be upset that I’m getting her cornea. She’s just so angry…” The room erupted. “What? She won’t donate?” “Valerie got her leg injured because Seraphina pushed her, and now her eyes are going bad, and she’s still so selfish?” “Exactly! She took Mrs. Sterling’s place for three years, and she’s still not satisfied!” Julian suddenly turned, glaring at me. “Apologize.” I lay on the floor, pushing myself up to a sitting position. I looked at the ‘couple’. Apologize? Fine. I slowly got up and walked to Valerie. “I’m sorry.” “I didn’t hear you!” Julian roared. I took a deep breath, bent at the waist, a deep, mocking bow. “I’m sorry, Miss Valerie. I shouldn’t have spilled wine on you.” “I shouldn’t have taken Mrs. Sterling’s place.” “I shouldn’t even be alive, bothering your perfect lives.” “Get to the kitchen.” Julian ordered. “Don’t come out until the party’s over.” I turned and walked away. No looking back, no tears. Back in the kitchen, I closed the door, shutting out the noise from outside. I pulled a tiny USB drive from the pocket of my apron. I’d slipped it from Julian’s suit pocket during the chaos of my fall. It contained Julian’s company’s most sensitive data. Exactly what Liam needed. I found a piece of raw meat, shoved the USB drive deep into it, then tossed it into the very bottom of the freezer. After that, I leaned against the freezer door, gasping for breath. My right hand throbbed as if it had broken all over again. But I smiled. Julian, if you’d just checked the security footage, you’d see Valerie deliberately spilled that wine herself. But you wouldn’t check. You would never believe me. My phone vibrated. A bank transfer notification. Five million. It had arrived. I immediately transferred the money to the offshore account I’d been preparing for three years. Then, I factory-reset my phone and tossed it into the churning garbage disposal. The phone shattered into fragments. That was the first connection I severed.

Seraphina POV To appease a ‘traumatized’ Valerie, Julian decided to host a charity auction on Friday night. It was philanthropy in name only. In truth, it was a stage: to generate publicity for Valerie and formally reintroduce her as the woman of Julian’s house. The evening’s centerpiece was an antique grand piano. It was the grand piano Julian had given me for my eighteenth birthday, after I won the International Chopin Gold Medal. Now, he was auctioning off that very piano, with all proceeds going to a foundation for the visually impaired, in Valerie’s name. How ironic. Using his ex-wife’s most cherished possession to pave the way for his current flame. I was ordered to attend. The reason: as the piano’s original owner, I was needed for the final “handover” ceremony. Humiliation. Pure, unadulterated humiliation. Backstage at the venue, I stood in a corner, wearing a faded, ill-fitting old gown. Valerie, in a custom-made gown shimmering like a night sky, was getting her makeup touched up, a princess reborn. “Seraphina, I’m truly sorry for you.” Valerie watched me in the mirror. “Julian said you can’t play this piano anymore, and it’s just taking up space at home, so it’s better to use it for charity.” I looked at the black Steinway grand being wheeled onto the stage. A faint scratch marred the lid, a tiny mark I’d made with my hairpin when I’d collapsed from exhaustion during practice. Back then, Julian had been heartbroken, holding me tight, whispering reassurances all night long. Now, he was selling that memory. “Good for something, I guess,” I said. Valerie’s smile faltered for a moment, then she recovered her sweet demeanor. “Seraphina, you’re so philosophical. Oh, Julian said he wants to play ‘Wedding of Love’ with me tonight. You don’t mind, do you?” ‘Wedding of Love.’ It was the song from Julian’s and my wedding. I said nothing, just lowered my gaze to my casted hand. From the front, the host’s voice boomed. “And now, please welcome Julian and Valerie, as they bring us our opening performance!” Thunderous applause. The curtain swept open, and two spotlights illuminated the center of the stage. Julian sat on one side of the piano bench, Valerie on the other. A four-hand duet. The scene was picture-perfect. I stood in the shadows behind the curtain, watching it all unfold. Once, the one sitting there had been me. The music began. Valerie’s technique was mediocre at best, riddled with wrong notes, her rhythm unsteady. But Julian matched her, slowing his pace, using his masterful skill to cover her flaws. When Valerie made a mistake, he would even turn to her, a doting smile in his eyes. I felt sick. I remembered three years ago, how my fingers were raw, covered in angry blisters, from practicing this very song. Julian had carefully pricked my blisters, whispering, “Seraphina, from now on, play only for me.” Liar. They were all liars. The piece ended. The applause was endless. The host rushed onto the stage, thrilled. “Simply breathtaking! This is what true love looks like! Next, we will be auctioning off this piano, a witness to Julian’s love story! Starting bid: five million!” “Ten million!” The first bid sent a ripple of shock through the room. Everyone turned. A tall man in a gray suit, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, walked in from the entrance, holding up a bidding paddle. Cyrus. Cyrus Sterling, the head of the Sterling Corporation and Julian’s fiercest rival in the business world. And my former classmate. The smile on Julian’s face vanished instantly. He stood up and walked to the front of the stage. “Cyrus, what the hell are you playing at?” “No particular reason,” Cyrus said, adjusting his glasses. “Some things, if the original owner doesn’t appreciate them, are better off with someone who does.” Julian saw me. “Twenty million.” Julian spoke. He clearly regretted putting it up for auction. “Thirty million,” Cyrus said without hesitation. “Fifty million!” Julian gritted his teeth. The entire room gasped. Fifty million for a piano was an astronomical sum. Cyrus smiled, then put down his paddle. “Julian, you’re as rich as they say. But…” Cyrus’s tone shifted. “Some things, you can’t hold onto forever.” With that, he gave me a deep, knowing look, then turned and left. In that fleeting glance, I saw a hidden message. I understood. Cyrus was helping me. He was using this method to tell Julian that someone was watching this piano, watching me. And it meant Julian, for the sake of his ego, would never let that piano leave his possession. The piano went unsold, remaining with Julian. Backstage, Julian dragged me into a dressing room. The door locked with a heavy click. “What’s your relationship with Cyrus?” Julian pinned me against the wall, his eyes bloodshot. “Nothing.” “Nothing? Then why would he spend thirty million on your damn piano?” Julian’s grip on my chin was so tight, I thought my jaw would shatter. “Seraphina, have you already found someone new? That affair three years ago, are you still so shameless?” “I didn’t.” I shook my head. “If you believe I cheated, and now I have someone else, then let me go.” I met his gaze directly. “You need to make room for Valerie anyway, and I’ve signed the donation papers.” “Never!” Julian snarled. “You want to leave? Dream on!” Julian’s teeth were clenched. “As long as I say no, you’re bound to me, in life and in death!” He tore my gown. “You want a man? Fine. I’ll give you one!” There was no prelude. Just a brutal, punitive assault. I bit down hard on the plaster cast on my arm, choking back every sound. My tears had long dried. My heart was dead. When it was over, Julian adjusted his clothes. “Go to the hospital for pre-op checks tomorrow. Don’t go anywhere these next few days.” He slammed the door shut and left. I lay on the cold floor, my body aching. I waited. Waited for the signal Cyrus had left me. When I’d been shoved earlier, I’d felt a slip of paper pressed into my pocket by Cyrus. My trembling fingers pulled it out. It contained only a short line of text and a tiny key. “Tomorrow night, midnight, back door delivery truck. Locker 302.” The key to my freedom. Or a one-way ticket to hell. If I failed, I’d have my legs broken and be locked away forever by Julian. But I had no choice. I swallowed the paper and hid the key in the crevices of my cast. Julian, you left me no choice.

Seraphina POV The hospital corridor reeked of antiseptic. I followed behind Julian, led into the VIP ophthalmology clinic. Valerie sat in the examination chair, and Julian was leaning down, kissing her forehead. “Don’t be scared. Dr. Miller is personally performing the surgery. You’ll be able to see again tomorrow.” Valerie clutched Julian’s coat, shrinking back just a little. “Seraphina is really willing? After all, it’s removing an eyeball…” “She doesn’t have a choice.” Julian turned, his tone devoid of warmth. “Sign it.” On the table lay the ‘Surgical Consent Form’. I picked up the pen with my left hand. Dr. Miller adjusted his glasses, his voice professional and flat. “Ms. Seraphina, after the left eyeball is removed, a prosthetic eye will be fitted. There’s a risk of rejection, but it won’t affect your appearance. Please sign if you confirm.” My pen hovered over the line. “I need to use the restroom.” Julian frowned. “Always so difficult.” “I want to go too.” Valerie suddenly stood up, fumbling for Julian’s hand. “Julian, I want to touch up my makeup. I don’t want you to see me looking tired.” Julian’s gaze softened. “Okay, I’ll help you.” “No need, just Seraphina can come with me.” Valerie smiled sweetly. Inside the restroom. The stall door locked. Valerie stood in front of the mirror, reaching up to take off her large sunglasses. Her eyes, clear as glass, held no hint of impairment. She pulled lipstick from her bag and, gazing into the mirror, meticulously outlined her lips. Not a single smudge. “Just as I thought,” I said. “Surprised?” Valerie pursed her lips, turning to face me, her eyes filled with malice. “Seraphina, I never actually needed your cornea. I just wanted to make you blind.” My left hand, in my pocket, gripped the tiny key I’d retrieved from my cast. “Caleb’s surgery fee, Julian already paid it,” I said. “Did he?” Valerie chuckled softly, pulling out her phone and playing a video. In the video, the oxygen tube in Caleb’s ICU room was half-pulled out. The monitor blared a piercing alarm, and nurses scrambled to save him. I lunged to snatch the phone. Valerie sidestepped, then slapped me across the face. I slammed into the sink, my casted hand taking another brutal hit. “Your brother’s pathetic life? It’s in my hands now.” Valerie leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Tomorrow’s surgery, if you dare to run, or say anything, I’ll have them pull the plug entirely.” I glared at her. “What do you want?” “I want you to die on the operating table.” Valerie pulled an eyebrow razor from her bag and shoved it into the crevices of my cast. “Anesthesia complications, cardiac arrest – these things happen all the time in surgery. I want you dead on that table, clearing the way for me to be Mrs. Sterling.” A knock came at the door. Julian’s voice. “Valerie? Are you ready?” Valerie’s face instantly transformed. She swept the hand soap bottle off the sink, letting it crash to the floor. “Seraphina, no!” She shrieked, throwing herself to the ground. The door burst open. Julian rushed in, seeing Valerie sprawled on the floor and me ‘holding’ an eyebrow razor. “Seraphina!” Julian’s foot connected hard with my stomach. I flew backward, my back slamming against the edge of the toilet, and I crumpled to the floor, pain curling me into a ball. “Julian… Seraphina said if I could see again, you wouldn’t want her… She wanted to ruin my face…” Valerie sobbed, burying her face in Julian’s chest. Julian picked up Valerie, his eyes on me, as if looking at a corpse. “Lock her in the morgue,” Julian ordered the security guards who’d rushed in. “Let her have a good reality check.” The guards came forward, dragging me out as I coughed up blood. I didn’t struggle. As they pulled me through the door, I saw Valerie, clinging to Julian’s shoulder, silently mouthed two words at me: “Die. Bitch.” The morgue was freezing. I was thrown between the stainless steel gurneys. The icy chill seeped deep into my bones. I huddled in the corner, pulling out the tiny voice recorder I’d prepared earlier. Everything in the restroom had been recorded. This was my last card. It was meant for negotiating with Julian, but now, it would be Valerie’s funeral song. My phone buzzed. A message from “Liam”. “Caleb’s been moved. Cyrus’s people have him now. You can proceed.” I looked at the screen and laughed. I laughed, tears streaming down my face. Valerie, your biggest mistake was believing I still cared about Julian. I sat in the morgue’s frigid air all night. Until dawn, when the guards opened the door. “Come out. Julian wants you home to prepare for surgery.”

Seraphina POV I’d returned from the morgue with a raging fever. Julian only gave me one fever reducer. His reason: “You’re having general anesthesia tomorrow. Too many meds will mess with your metabolism.” Julian came down from his study, dressed in a black suit, his tie knotted without a single wrinkle. He surveyed the dishes on the table. “Sit. Eat with me.” “I’m not hungry.” “I said sit down.” Julian pulled out a chair, his words brooking no argument. I obeyed, sitting down. Valerie picked up a shrimp and offered it to Julian, her voice sweet and soft. “Julian, this dish Seraphina made, it used to be your favorite. Try it?” Julian opened his mouth, chewed twice, then spat it into the bone plate. “Too salty.” He set his fork down with a sharp click. “Seraphina, are you doing this on purpose?” I looked at the white rice in my bowl. “My hand was shaking. Couldn’t control the salt.” “Shaking?” Julian grabbed my casted arm. “I saw you playing for your lover. You seemed steady enough then.” His fingers tightened. Excruciating pain ripped through me, making my body twitch involuntarily. Cold sweat drenched the back of my shirt, but I didn’t make a sound. “After the surgery tomorrow, this hand will be useless anyway.” Julian flung my hand away. “I’ll arrange for you to be sent to a sanitarium. You won’t leave without my permission.” It was a sentence of soft imprisonment. I picked up my spoon and calmly took a sip of soup. Fourteen more hours. After dinner, a document was thrown onto the table in front of me. A ‘Divorce Settlement Agreement’. “Sign it.” Julian lit a cigarette. “Giving Valerie her rightful place is the last thing you can do.” I opened the agreement. Zero assets. I’d be leaving with nothing. Even the small house my mother left me was already legally Julian’s. “Okay.” I picked up the pen and signed my name. Julian’s fingers, clutching the cigarette, paused. “Aren’t you going to read the terms?” “No need.” I closed the document. “Whatever makes you happy, Julian.” My indifferent attitude was the final spark that ignited Julian’s simmering rage. He stubbed out his cigarette and pushed me onto the sofa. “Seraphina, are you hoping Cyrus is going to ride in and save you? I’m telling you, the Sterling Corporation is in crisis. Cyrus is already on a flight to Europe tonight, trying to save his own ass.” My breath hitched. Cyrus was gone? Then what about tomorrow’s pickup…? “Desperate?” Julian’s finger traced my cheek. “Just hand over the cornea, and I might consider making your life in the sanitarium more comfortable.” He finished speaking, picked up the agreement, and went upstairs. I lay on the sofa, staring silently at the ceiling. My phone was shattered; I couldn’t contact anyone. If Cyrus really was gone, this was a checkmate. Two in the morning. Rain lashed against the windows. I fished a paperclip from deep within the couch cushions. Barefoot, I avoided the blind spots of the hallway cameras and slipped into the first-floor study. Julian’s safe was in the study. With my left hand, I manipulated the paperclip into the keyhole. Click. The old-fashioned mechanical lock clicked open with a soft snick. I didn’t take any money, nor did I touch any sensitive documents. I placed the voice recorder, along with the ‘real vision test report’ Valerie had torn up and meticulously taped back together, deep inside the safe. Julian always opened it first thing in the morning to retrieve his watch. Mission accomplished, I closed the safe. Back in the guest room, I carefully unwound the bandage over my cast. Hidden inside, a single line of text was inked: Cyrus’s contingency plan. “If Plan A fails, initiate Plan B: The Funeral.” I re-bandaged the cast, even tying it tighter than before, using the pain to keep my nerves buzzing, to stay awake. Outside, thunder growled. I stood by the window, watching the distant lightning tear across the night sky.

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My husband died protecting the border. I took our three-year-old son on a train to bring his ashes home. My son couldn’t hold back his quiet sobs. The couple next to us exploded. “Can’t you control your brat child?!” They snatched my son, dragged him to the bathroom to punish him, slapping him, and even filmed it. They sneered: “His dad died? ” “So no one to teach him? We’ll do it!” Along with the video, the news of my husband’s heroic sacrifice trended online. The military command was furious, and the entire internet erupted! My three-year-old son clung tightly to my arm, sobbing softly. “Mommy, they said I’ll never see Daddy again. What does that mean?” “Aren’t we going to bring Daddy home this time?” I stroked his head, my own eyes welling up with tears. Yesterday, General Thompson himself called me, informing me that my husband, Major Jake Miller, had died in the line of duty. “Enemy forces secretly crossed the border. He fought bravely to protect his comrades—” The General’s voice choked up. He said they had already bought our train tickets, so we could go say our final goodbyes to Jake. After hanging up, I couldn’t control my emotions and broke down in tears. My three-year-old son didn’t fully understand death, but he seemed to grasp that he might never see his dad again. Leo bit his lip, his little shoulders trembling. “My birthday is next month. Is Daddy not going to send me a toy gun anymore?” Just as I opened my mouth, a young woman in the seat in front of us suddenly stood up, turned around, and yelled at my son, her face contorted with anger: “So noisy! Do you have any manners?!” Leo flinched in fear, instinctively apologizing. She didn’t back down. “Talking nonstop, and now crying endlessly! I’ve been putting up with you two for ages!” I gripped my son’s hand tightly. “I’m sorry, we’ll be more careful.” Leo huddled beside me, trembling with fear. The woman glared at him, clenching her fist in warning. “Cry again, and I’ll call the police to take you away!” Leo immediately covered his mouth with both hands and buried himself in my arms. Only then did the woman scoff triumphantly and sit back down. I glanced around the train car. A few rows ahead, a man was loudly scrolling through TikTok videos, laughing heartily as he watched. In the back, two middle-aged women were passionately gossiping about their family issues. Before leaving with Leo, I had specifically told him not to be loud on the train. So, we both spoke softer than usual. Many people were louder than us, but this woman didn’t say a word to anyone else, only glaring at my son and me. I felt uneasy. But when you’re out alone, especially with such a young child, it’s not worth getting into an argument. It wouldn’t be good for Leo. I softly comforted my son. “Why don’t you try to sleep for a bit?” Leo covered his mouth, his eyes red, and shook his head. “I can’t stop thinking about Daddy. I’m still so sad.” Both of us were deliberately lowering our voices, almost whispering, so quietly you’d barely hear us if you weren’t actively listening. Suddenly, the woman in front flared up again. “Are you kidding me? Does this mom ever shut up?!” She walked over directly, stood next to our row of seats, and viciously kicked my chair. “Try making another sound, I dare you!” “Mommy, I’m scared!” Leo was so startled by her action that he started to wail. I hugged Leo and couldn’t help but retort: “Miss, we weren’t making noise.” “We’ve been speaking very softly.” The woman screamed, craning her neck: “This isn’t noisy?! He’s crying loud enough to make my head explode!” “You scared him, the child is still young—” “Young, my foot! No matter how little he is, he’s not my kid. Who’s obligated to put up with him?!” “Attendant! Attendant!” Just then, a train attendant appeared at the end of the car. The woman loudly called her over. “This brat won’t stop crying! Do something about him!”

“Little one, stop crying right now!” The attendant, Mia, frowned and scolded. I explained: “He wasn’t crying just now. This woman came over and kicked my chair, which scared him—” “Don’t make so many excuses!” The young attendant impatiently cut me off. “I’ve seen plenty of parents like you. Be mindful of others and don’t disturb anyone.” Big tears rolled down Leo’s cheeks. “I’m not a bad kid…” He was timid and usually suffered in silence when wronged. But the accusation of being a “bad kid” shattered him. He couldn’t stop his quiet sobs. “You’re seriously disturbing other passengers. Please take your child to the connecting area between cars to calm him down.” Mia said coldly. The young woman smugly agreed. “Hear that? Now scram!” “Mommy, I’ve been very good, I spoke very quietly…” My son cried, trembling all over. “Mommy knows Leo is the best boy.” I hugged him tightly, my heart aching, and stood up to grab our bag, ready to take him away. But then the young woman suddenly reached out and yanked Leo’s arm! “I told you to scram, why are you dawdling?!” Her long, pointed nail dug viciously into Leo’s delicate skin, instantly leaving a red, bruised mark. “Mommy, it hurts so much!” Leo cried out in pain. I immediately slapped her hand away. “What are you doing?! Let go of my son!” My strength wasn’t great, but the woman let out an exaggerated shriek. “You dare to hit me?! Chad!” From the front, a tall man with dyed blonde hair and a skull ring on his finger stood up. His face red with fury, he rushed over and slapped me hard across the face. “You filthy bitch! How dare you touch my girlfriend!” He swung his hand again, then grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the seat back. I saw stars, my cheek cut by his ring, blood beginning to seep. And in my arms, Leo had been snatched away by the woman! She grabbed the child by the neck with one hand and dragged him forward, walking quickly. “You don’t want to teach your kid, huh? No wonder his dad’s gone, leaving such a badly behaved kid! I’ll teach him for you!” I tried to chase, but the punk held me back by my hair, dragging me back to the seat. “What are you doing? Still trying to chase her and hit her?” “Let go of me! She snatched my child!” My eyes were burning with urgency. “She’s helping you teach your kid out of kindness, and you’re not grateful? You don’t know what’s good for you!” The punk forcefully pressed down on my shoulders. I struggled desperately, pleading with Mia: “Are you just going to watch him hit me? Call the police! Someone’s stealing my child!”

Mia pursed her lips. “He’s just holding you down. I didn’t see him hit anyone.” The two women from the front rows couldn’t stand it anymore. “Her face is bleeding! How can you lie with a straight face?!” “Let her go!” Mia’s expression finally changed. “Maybe I wasn’t paying attention… I’ll go call the police.” She then slowly pushed her service cart and walked away. I seized the opportunity to push the punk away and sprinted forward. From the bathroom at the end of the car, Leo’s piercing cry rang out: “Mommy, help me—” I rushed to the door and pounded on it. “Come for me! Open the door, let my son out!” Inside, the young woman’s curses could be heard: “Don’t you dare cry! Cry again and I’ll beat you to death!” The train bathroom’s metal door was very sturdy, unmoving. I pleaded with the surrounding passengers to call the police, but the punk followed me, glaring menacingly. “I’d like to see who dares interfere! My girlfriend is just helping him teach his son a lesson. If a brat is so noisy, the police will side with us!” Some passengers in the front car, not knowing the full truth, even agreed, saying they hated unruly children and a little scare was good. “My son is not a bad kid!” I cried out, pounding on the door. At that moment, Mrs. Stone and Mrs. Clark squeezed over. “Miss, is this child in the video your son?” I looked down and gasped. In the video, Leo was cowering in the corner, a hand with long, manicured nails grabbing his chin, forcing him to face the camera: “Say it! Your dad’s an Monster, and your mom’s a slut!” Leo’s face was red with finger marks, and he cried out: “My daddy is a hero!” “Ptooey!” A mouthful of spit landed on his face. The woman tightened her grip. “You lying brat!” Only then did I realize it was a live stream. The top of the screen read: “Train passenger losing it over noisy kid, live-streaming to teach him a lesson!” The comment section was filled with cheers, and some doubts, the chat a chaotic mess. The woman excitedly grabbed my son’s face and slammed his head back. “You little punk, speak up!” Thump! Leo’s face turned pale. My heart ached with intense pain. I cried out, pounding on the door: “Stop it!” “Quick, say your parents are trash!” The woman pressed his cheek against the wall. Leo’s face was ashen, but he stubbornly shouted: “Mommy said my daddy is a big hero! And I wasn’t noisy!” His tears poured down, which only enraged the woman further. She sneered, turning the camera to the trash can next to the squat toilet. “Not going to say it, huh? Lying brats get their mouths wiped with toilet paper!” With that, she picked out a piece of used toilet paper with brownish-yellow stains. Through the screen, I could almost smell the stench. I screamed in agony: “You can’t do this! Open the door!” Leo also cried in terror. “Don’t wipe my mouth with poop! It’s disgusting!” He had always been a clean child. Now, his face was pressed against a public toilet wall, a dirty piece of paper shoved in front of him. He cried out in fear, eyes shut: “Mommy, please help me—” The woman grew even more excited. “Oh, you think it’s dirty, do you? Then hurry up and say your parents are both trash and scum, and you won’t have to use this paper, how about that?”

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