Category: English

Reborn to the day my best friend, Victoria, and I were to be married off to the heirs of the Rossi mafia empire. Victoria snatched my husband from my past life, Carlo Colombo, without hesitation. In my previous life, Carlo was the one who ultimately took over the entire Colombo crime family. She wrapped her arm snugly around Carlo’s, leaning in to whisper in my ear: “Dearest Sera, it’s my turn to be the Mafia Queen. I’ll let you have the heir who’s destined to die young.” So, she had been reborn too. But what she didn’t know was that Carlo only managed to conquer the mafia in our past life because of me. Because I could hear the inner voices of everyone around me. I woke up back on the day Victoria and I were choosing our partners. Across the mahogany table sat two men of similar age. One was Alessandro Rossi, the eldest son of the Rossi family—notoriously dubbed “Cold-Faced Alessandro”. The other was Carlo Colombo, the son of the family’s key business partner, who wore a deceptively gentle smile. [This time, the future Capo will be mine!] A sharp female voice echoed in my mind. It was Victoria. I looked over at her, but her lips weren’t moving. Her eyes were locked onto Carlo. [The crown of the Mafia Queen belongs to me this time.] Her voice rang out again. I realized then: I wasn’t just reborn. My mind-reading ability was back. And judging by her thoughts, Victoria had been reborn too. Otherwise, she couldn’t have known Carlo would eventually seize power. Sure enough, the next second, she elegantly glided over to Carlo’s side, flashing a sweet smile. “Hello, I’m Victoria. It’s an honor to meet you.” Our adoptive father, Don Lorenzo, who sat at the head of the table, spoke up. “Sera, since Victoria has chosen Carlo, you will marry Alessandro.” At those words, smugness flashed in Victoria’s eyes. She hugged me, whispering in my ear: “Dearest Sera, it’s my turn to be the Mafia Queen. I’ll let you have the heir who’s destined to die young.” She expected me to break down in despair, but all I felt was a cold, mocking laugh in my heart. In our past life, Victoria married Alessandro. Alessandro was the designated heir of the Rossi family, but his methods were too straightforward. He didn’t play dirty. Victoria tried to help him, but her amateur schemes only made things worse. Eventually, Alessandro lost the brutal power struggle within the family and was sidelined. Victoria suffered endless humiliation alongside him, until they were eventually banished. Meanwhile, Carlo, whom I married, was initially just an insignificant partner’s son. But I had the gift of mind-reading. I knew exactly what everyone thought—their deepest desires, their fears, and their darkest secrets. I used this gift to pave a golden path for Carlo. I knew who to bribe, who to eliminate, and when to make the perfect move. Within three years, Carlo climbed from a nobody to the seat of the Godfather. On the day he took over the family, he hugged me in front of the entire underworld. “Sera, I couldn’t have done any of this without you.” But that very night, I heard his true thoughts for the first time: [I don’t need her anymore.] Only then did I realize he had long discovered my ability. All his warmth and affection had been a facade. He had been practicing suppressing his surface thoughts, only letting me hear what he wanted me to hear. Later, he drugged my food. My mind-reading became glitchy and unreliable. He locked me up, torturing me in various ways to “test” the limits of my power. Victoria, consumed by jealousy over my power and status, seized her chance during one of my rare supervised outings. She personally drove her car directly into mine, pushing me off a cliff… As I plummeted into the freezing ocean, her ecstatic, twisted smile was the last thing I saw.

“Of course, Father. I actually quite like Alessandro,” I smiled gracefully, walking over to sit beside Alessandro. I had to admit, the man’s aura was terrifying. Just sitting next to him, I could feel the suffocating pressure radiating from him. I tried to read his mind, but I got nothing. Complete silence. This was different from my past life—back then, I could at least hear brief, fragmented thoughts from him. But when Carlo smiled at Victoria, I caught his inner voice. [Another plaything.] The voice was warm and gentle, exactly like it had been at the start of my previous life. But I knew it was all an act. Right now, he was calculating Victoria’s worth, planning how to exploit her. I knew his mask too well. Instinctively, I reached out and took Alessandro’s hand. Though his exterior was freezing, his hand was surprisingly warm. Startled by my sudden touch, he glanced down at me. I quickly let go, and he remained silent, offering no objection. Even though he seemed difficult and completely unreadable, I knew one thing: Carlo didn’t deserve that throne. It belonged to Alessandro, and I was the one who had built Carlo’s path. In this life, I would use my power to put the right man on the throne. Victoria and I had a double wedding. Just like in our past life. Back then, Alessandro hadn’t bothered to show up for the morning ceremony, whereas Carlo had arrived early, looking like a prince. Everyone praised Carlo for being a doting husband. As expected, this life played out the exact same way. Carlo, dressed in a sharp white tuxedo, eagerly walked up and took Victoria’s hand. As they passed me, Victoria gave me a triumphant look. “Sera, why hasn’t Alessandro come to pick you up yet?” I simply smiled. “Don’t worry about me. You should focus on yourself.” My words choked her, and her face fell. [Keep laughing. Let’s see if you can still smile when you’re being discarded later.] She sneered in her mind before walking toward the priest with Carlo. But it was too early to celebrate. Who would have the last laugh was still undecided. Alessandro’s absence, just like in our past life, sparked whispers and pitying glances from the crowd. Victoria’s smile grew wider. She couldn’t wait to whisper to Carlo, “I love you, darling.” Then, she pressed her lips to his, looking at me with absolute smugness. I knew she wanted to see me humiliated. But I wasn’t stupid. I wasn’t going to storm off in a rage like Victoria did in our past life. Doing that would only embarrass the family and make me look weak. I remembered how the elders had whispered back then that Victoria was too unstable to be the wife of the Rossi family’s eldest heir.

I picked up the microphone and smiled graciously at the guests. “Alessandro is currently closing a vital business deal for the family. I will be handling the toasts on his behalf today. I hope you all enjoy yourselves.” The moment I spoke, the whispering stopped. Donna Marta, sitting at the head table, gave me an approving nod. The Rossi family held immense power, and their reputation was everything. In moments like this, a wife couldn’t panic. She had to show the poise of a true matriarch. Victoria noticed Donna Marta’s look, and a flash of irritation crossed her face. [Disgusting b*tch. Just wait, I’ll make sure you embarrass yourself during the toasts!] Honestly, mind-reading was the best cheat code ever. It made everything so much easier. During the reception, I elegantly lifted my gown and walked toward Donna Marta’s table. Victoria approached me under the guise of offering a toast, but her hand “slipped,” and a full glass of red wine was about to splash all over my white dress. Thanks to my mind-reading, I anticipated it. I turned naturally to speak to a guest, flawlessly dodging her. The wine splashed onto the floor. “Oh my god, Sera, I’m so sorry! I was just so happy for you, my hand shook,” Victoria apologized instantly, her voice dripping with fake concern. “It’s fine,” I replied coldly. Carlo rushed over to support her. But in his mind, he hissed: [What a useless idiot!] All eyes were on us. Donna Marta looked utterly displeased. “Clumsy and embarrassing. Is this how a Colombo lady behaves?” “I’m… I’m so sorry, Mother. It was an accident,” Victoria stammered, though her eyes burned with resentment. If I were her, I would keep my head down and live quietly in this life. But since she wanted to make my life miserable, I wasn’t going to sit back and take it. Because of Victoria’s little stunt, the wedding ended abruptly. Donna Marta didn’t give her a single warm look for the rest of the night. But when she looked at me, her eyes were filled with pride. She squeezed my hand and said, “Sera, I will make sure Alessandro comes home to be with you tonight.” Sure enough, Alessandro returned that evening. He opened the door, loosening his tie, exhaustion written all over his face. I quickly stepped forward to take his coat. “Tough day, Alessandro?” He only spared me a glance and didn’t say a word. In our past life, the servants whispered that Alessandro hadn’t returned on his wedding night at all. Victoria had spent the night alone in the bridal suite, becoming the laughingstock of the estate. She had gone to Donna Marta to complain, only to get scolded for her own lack of charm. While Alessandro was in the shower, I made the bed and poured him a glass of scotch. Then, I grabbed some blankets and began fixing up the sofa for myself. When Alessandro walked out of the bathroom, he stared at me, a hint of surprise in his eyes. I quickly spoke up. “You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.” “Sera, what kind of game are you playing?” He narrowed his eyes at me. Since his bathrobe was loosely tied, his muscular chest was slightly exposed. I had to admit, he was incredibly fit. I quickly averted my eyes. “No game. We don’t have feelings for each other. Sleeping in the same bed would just be awkward for both of us.” “If possible, I’d like to propose a partnership.” “What do you mean?” “Our marriage is purely for family alliance. Many couples like us live separate private lives while keeping up appearances in public. I only married you for a stable life. I don’t expect love.” Hearing my words, a smirk played on his lips. “You’re smart.” “Fine by me. I agree.” I was just an ordinary girl. I didn’t have the grand delusion that I could easily control a powerful man’s heart. Besides, in this family, his attitude toward me dictated how others treated me. I didn’t want to end up like Victoria in our past life—ostracized and hated by everyone. That would serve me no good. And considering how ruthless he had been to Victoria back then, I had no desire to provoke him. A peaceful coexistence was the best path. In this life, I just wanted to make my own money, build my own empire, and rely entirely on myself!

I had Alessandro post a photo of us holding hands on his Instagram. The caption was simple: [Newlyweds.] My reasoning was to convince everyone that our marriage was perfect. I also noticed his Instagram was incredibly clean—aside from that post, there was nothing. A man like him probably lived a highly disciplined and boring life. That night, he actually took the bed and left me to sleep on the sofa. Zero gentlemanly instincts. Whatever, at least this arrangement worked. The next morning, Alessandro woke me up. At the crack of dawn, he was blasting music while doing push-ups. They say men who aren’t interested in women have boring private lives. But looking at his muscular, powerful frame… he was leagues ahead of Carlo. “Stop staring. I’m not interested in you,” he suddenly said, pushing himself up from the floor. “Get dressed. We’re having breakfast.” Translation: let’s go play the happy couple. Honestly, he wasn’t that hard to deal with. Why had he been so brutal to Victoria in our past life? Once I got ready, we walked out together. Almost immediately, we ran into Victoria and Carlo walking hand-in-hand. Victoria rushed over, grabbing my hand with fake concern. Her voice was just loud enough for the nearby servants to hear. “Sera, why is your wrist so bruised? Did you trip? Did Alessandro… do something to you?” She glanced at Alessandro, heavily implying I was being abused. Meanwhile, her own high-neck collar parted slightly, revealing dark purple handprint bruises on her throat. She looked incredibly smug as she sized me up. [Wrapped up so tightly, she must be hiding bruises from being beaten.] Her thoughts echoed in my head, followed by a triumphant laugh. “Sera, how was your wedding night?” Today, I was wearing a classy, modest maxi dress. Victoria seemed to have forgotten that Donna Marta despised any vulgar or overly revealing outfits in family areas. But I wasn’t about to correct her. I simply smiled. “Victoria, according to family hierarchy, you should address me as your superior.” Her face instantly soured, and she gritted her teeth. “Alessandro hasn’t even demanded that. What makes you think you have the right?” She then turned to Alessandro. “Alessandro, tell her!” I could feel the temperature around Alessandro instantly drop. In his mind, Carlo was roaring: [Stupid b*tch! Just wait till tonight, I’m going to ruin you!] Carlo yanked Victoria’s hand, signaling her to shut up. But she was still completely oblivious to the danger. “Carlo, what is the first rule of this family?” Alessandro asked, his voice low and dangerous. Carlo immediately bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I’ll correct her immediately.” The next second, a loud *SLAP* echoed as Carlo struck Victoria across the face. “Greet your superior right now!” Victoria’s face burned bright red from the blow. She looked like she was about to explode with rage. But knowing Alessandro was not someone to be messed with, she could only grit her teeth and mutter, “Good morning, Sera.” With that, Carlo dragged her away. I knew the rules. The absolute first rule of the Rossi family: never show disrespect to the heir or his wife. And Alessandro was the sole heir. In my past life, I had memorized every single rule just to survive. Back then, Victoria had bullied me constantly because I obeyed the rules and didn’t dare fight back. She probably thought she could do the same in this life, completely ignoring the family laws.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “448276”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

At the scene of the car crash, I pooled every last drop of my strength to beg my daughter for help. But she stepped right on my bleeding hand, walking past me to save her biological mother, who only had a few minor scratches. Shivering from the coldness of her betrayal, I choked out a question, asking her why. She just sneered, her eyes dripping with contempt: “Did you really think I didn’t know? You only adopted me to use me for your social status. My real mother is a billionaire. And you? You’re just a stepping stone on my way to the top.” I died in that cold street, consumed by hatred, while she went on to win fame and fortune, living the luxurious life of an heiress she had always dreamed of. But when I opened my eyes again, I had traveled back in time—right before the fatal crash. This time, I’m going to personally hand you back to them, Chloe. The excruciating pain of being crushed to death by a runaway truck still seemed to linger on my skin. The scream was still trapped in my throat. I gasped, my eyes flying open as I frantically took in my surroundings. I was in my own bedroom. Was I really dead? Was this the afterlife? My heart hammered against my ribs as I threw off the blanket, ready to put my shoes on and investigate. Suddenly, a haughty, annoyed voice drifted in from the doorway: “Jane, what is wrong with you? Why are you sleeping so late? I just got back from school and there’s no food on the table. I’m starving!” The face of the speaker flashed in my mind, and my fingers tightened around the bedsheets until my knuckles turned white. It was Chloe. Memories of the crash rushed back. When the truck hit us, she didn’t call 911 for me. She didn’t try to pull me out of the wreckage. Instead, she dragged her biological father—who only had a few scratches—away from the scene, leaving me to bleed out and die. The sheer anger in my chest was almost impossible to control. Seeing that I didn’t reply, she walked in, rolling her eyes: “Jane, are you listening to me? I’m talking to you!” I forced my voice to remain steady: “What year is it, Chloe?” Chloe gave me a weird, judgmental look: “Did you sleep your brain away? It’s 2025!” Rebirth. I actually came back. That realization snapped me back to reality. For the first time, I actually looked at this girl. I had raised her since she was three years old. Even at three, she knew I wasn’t her biological mother. No matter how much love, warmth, and patience I gave her, she refused to call me “Mom.” It was always just “Jane.” She never accepted me, but she certainly never hesitated to spend my money and leech off my resources. She had even used my position as the Chief of Surgery at the city’s top hospital to secretly dig into her biological parents’ background. It turned out she had never wanted to be by my side. She only tolerated me because of my high social status and wealth. The second she found out her biological parents were billionaire entrepreneurs who could offer her an even more lavish lifestyle, she checked out. I had no doubt that if her biological parents had been blue-collar workers, she would have pretended they didn’t exist. I still remembered my dying moments, the sheer desperation as I screamed at her with my last breath: “Chloe! I raised you for years! I gave you everything! How can you be so heartless?!” Chloe had stopped, looking back at me with a cold, disgusted expression: “You? You’re just a glorified doctor, an employee. How can you compare to my billionaire parents? If it weren’t for you holding me back, I would have been living the life of a trust-fund heiress long ago! Stop blocking my path to a better life!” With that, she walked away, leaving me with nothing but her cold, retreating back. Thinking of this, my heart ached again. Even though she had always been rude, demanding, and bratty, I had foolishly believed that a human heart wasn’t made of stone. I thought if I kept loving her, she would eventually accept me. But reality had slapped me hard in the face. No matter how hard I tried, she was a viper that could never be warmed. I took a deep breath, and a bright smile broke across my face. I waved her over to the bed: “Chloe, do you want to know who your biological parents are?” Since she wanted to go back to them so badly, why should I risk my life to stop her? But were her biological parents really the loving, perfect saviors she imagined them to be? Maybe not.

Hearing my question, a flicker of confusion crossed Chloe’s face. In this house, her adoption was a taboo subject. Even though we both knew she wasn’t mine, neither of us ever brought it up. Yet today, I was the one bringing it up. Her expression practically screamed, *Did you lose your mind?* But she couldn’t hide her excitement. If her biological parents were incredibly rich and powerful, her future would be set. She looked at me, pretending to be sweet: “Jane, you know that after all these years, I’ve always seen you as my real mom.” “Even though I’ve always wanted to know where I came from, it was just to get some closure. Don’t worry, you’ll always be number one in my heart.” Listening to her fake, hypocritical words, I had to hold back a cold laugh. She was just trying to play nice to get the information out of me. Once she had it, she would kick me to the curb without a second thought. To have such a scheming mind at such a young age—I really had been blind. I pulled up an article on my phone and slid it across the mattress toward her: “This conglomerate is one of the top enterprises in the country. The CEO, Richard Sterling, is your long-lost biological father.” Chloe froze. She stared at the screen, her eyes wide as she looked at the massive corporate headquarters shown in the article. A few seconds later, she snatched the phone wildly, scrolling down until she saw the Chairman’s headshot. Sure enough, she shared some striking physical resemblances with him. She instantly fell into a state of hysterical joy: “I knew it! I knew someone as beautiful and smart as me couldn’t have come from ordinary people!” Looking at her, I didn’t see the joy of a child finding her lost family. I only saw greed, lust for power, and money. I shook my head slightly. She was still too young, only seeing the glittering surface without realizing the dark truth behind it. Once the initial shock wore off, she didn’t even bother to hide her disdain for me anymore. She tossed my phone back onto the bed. “You knew who they were this whole time? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Were you trying to keep me here? Did you steal me from them in the first place?!” Her sudden accusation actually made me laugh out loud. I had legally adopted her with flawless paperwork. How did I suddenly become a kidnapper? I looked her dead in the eye: “Now you have your answer, and you seem thrilled with who your parents are. Why are you still standing in my room? Do you want to keep pretending we have a loving mother-daughter relationship?” Chloe rolled her eyes at me, then stuck her palm out: “Give me money. I need to go find them.” I seriously wondered what was inside her brain. “I gave you a massive allowance every month. Where did all that money go?” She scoffed, waving her hand dismissively: “That pocket change? What was I supposed to do with that? If you wanted to raise a billionaire’s child, you should have looked in the mirror first. Hurry up and give me cash, or I’ll tell my parents you abused me when I go back!” I stood up from the bed, took a ten-dollar bill from my nightstand, and slapped it right onto her face. “That’s all the money you’re getting from me. Given our ‘bond,’ even this is too much. Now get out of my house. Looking at you makes me sick.” I walked back into my room and slammed the door shut. Soon, the sound of her stomping footsteps faded from the hallway. *Chloe, your nightmare is about to begin.

That night, while I was in bed with a face mask on, reading a book, my best friend, Sarah, called me in a panic. “Jane! How can you be doing skincare right now? Turn on the TV, quick!” “Chloe is on the news! She’s crying on camera with her biological parents! God, anyone watching would think you kept her in a basement!” Intrigued, I turned on the TV. Sure enough, the screen showed Chloe hugging her chubby, middle-aged biological father. She was blinking rapidly, trying to squeeze out a few tears for the camera. “All these years away from my parents, I never gave up hope. I searched everywhere, trying every channel to find them.” “And finally, heaven answered my prayers. I’m back where I belong!” The reporter eagerly held out the microphone: “Miss Sterling, today is such a historic day for your family. Why isn’t your adoptive mother here?” “Is there tension between you? How does she feel about you finding your real family?” Chloe lied without blinking: “I don’t have an adoptive father, just a very ordinary adoptive mother.” “She’s never seen such a grand lifestyle, so she was too embarrassed to show her face today. I think she feels guilty for not being able to provide for me all these years.” “But I don’t blame her. In fact, I’m grateful to her.” My mouth twitched. Chloe’s words sounded polite, but they were actually a nasty dig, painting me as a poor, low-class woman who was too intimidated to step into high society. It was a clever play to make herself look elegant, mature, and forgiving. As Sarah ranted in my ear, my eyes remained glued to the interaction between Chloe and her parents. Her parents didn’t look like they had just found their long-lost daughter. Instead, they kept pushing her toward the cameras, making sure the lenses were focused on her pretty face. It felt like they were showing off a high-quality product rather than a child. But Chloe, blinded by her sudden wealth, didn’t notice anything wrong. She smiled and played along perfectly, her smile looking more like a brown-nosing employee trying to please her bosses rather than a girl reuniting with her parents. Her father even bragged to the reporters: “My daughter is only a teenager. She is young, fresh, beautiful, and attends an elite private school!” The phrasing made my skin crawl. What kind of father describes his own daughter as “fresh”? And if they loved her so much, why didn’t they even get her age right? A flash of awkwardness crossed Chloe’s face, but she quickly covered it up with a laugh: “My parents are just too excited. They’re even getting my age mixed up! I think I’ll have to punish them by making them go jogging with me tonight!” She reached out to grab her mother’s hand, trying to lean her head on her shoulder. But Eleanor, her mother, instinctively stepped back, pulling her hand away. For a second, both of their expressions stiffened. Though Eleanor quickly recovered and claimed she just wasn’t used to public displays of affection, it was obvious to anyone paying attention that there was zero bond between them. After the interview aired, a wave of online hate was directed at me. Netizens called me an irresponsible, neglectful adoptive mother, while praising Chloe for being sweet and beautiful. I didn’t care. Because I knew Chloe’s golden days were already numbered.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “447618”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The year Xavier Knight returned to the country, he had become a world-renowned billionaire. But everyone in New York’s elite circle knew he hated me to the bone. Three years ago, when his illness was at its worst, I took ten million dollars from his biggest rival, slapped him in public, and told him to get the hell out of my life. So when we met again, he used his power to force me into becoming his on-call secret mistress. He would sit in his VIP booth, sipping champagne and sneering as he watched me strip-dance at private parties just to make a few bucks from wealthy investors. “Eva, you abandoned me for money back then. Now, your pathetic body is only fit to crawl and beg for my pocket change.” That same night, he threw his engagement invitation to another wealthy heiress right in my face. I numbly wiped the blood from my forehead where the sharp edge of the card had cut me, and slowly picked it up. He thought I would throw away my remaining dignity and beg him to stay, just like I always did. But he didn’t know that I was running out of time. I had spent every single penny of that ten million dollars on his medical bills back then. And my right ear had been beaten to complete deafness years ago when I shielded him from a mob. Now, I was dying.

The blood from my forehead dripped down my eyelashes, staining the gold-trimmed red invitation. “Eva, the day after tomorrow is my engagement party with Melody.” “If you want to come and beg for some leftovers, I won’t stop you.” Xavier looked down at me from his height, his eyes filled with pure disgust. My right ear was ringing constantly. Only my left ear could barely catch his words. Melody was my sister—the biological, pampered daughter of the Sinclair family. While I was just a walking medical backup, adopted from an orphanage solely to keep her alive whenever her failing organs needed a match. “Silent?” Xavier ground the sole of his leather shoe onto my fingers. The pain shot straight to my heart, making me tremble violently. He bent down, pinching my chin with disgust, forcing me to look up. “You were so loud when you took the money and slapped me. What happened?” “Are you mute now?” “Or do you think you didn’t make enough from dancing tonight, so you’re playing hard to get again?” I used every ounce of my strength to pull my hand out from under his shoe. “You worry too much, Xavier.” “I’ll take the invitation. I wish you two… a lifetime of happiness.” He visibly froze. He probably didn’t expect me to be this calm. In the six months since we reunited, I had let him humiliate me like a dog just to pay off the massive debts I owed to the loan sharks. I had even knelt and bowed to the floor in public just for the thousands of dollars he carelessly tossed at me. He thought I would throw a fit, crying and begging him not to marry someone else. But he didn’t know that thanks to his cruel “generosity,” my debts were finally paid off. And just this morning, I had received my diagnosis: terminal brain cancer. The doctor said the blood clot in my brain was pressing against my nerves. I had two months left, at most. That clot was formed three years ago, when his rival pinned me against a concrete wall and beat my head repeatedly with a metal pipe. My right ear had gone completely deaf that night, too. But now, telling him would change nothing. “Eva, you’d better not play any tricks on me.” Xavier shoved my face away and aggressively wiped his hands with a wet wipe, as if he had touched something filthy. “A gold-digger like you doesn’t even deserve to be compared to a single hair on Melody’s head.” He threw the dirty wet wipe in my face and stormed out of the VIP room. The moment the door slammed shut, I collapsed onto the freezing floor. I was so tired. My hearing aid had been knocked out when he threw the invitation, rolling away into some dark corner. Just like me, forgotten by the world. Right then, the door opened again. Melody walked in, wearing a stunning designer gown. She looked down at me on the floor and giggled, covering her mouth. “Oh, Eva. Look at you. How pathetic.” She knelt down and lowered her voice. “Eva, haven’t you always wondered how Xavier managed to get that massive investment to launch his business abroad so easily back then?” I looked up at her blankly. “Because I intercepted the money you got for him and gave it to him under my own name.” Melody’s smile grew wider. “You were beaten half to death by the casino loan sharks just to pay his medical bills.” “And that ten million you sacrificed your life for? It became the very reason he hates you.” “Thanks for paving the way for me, Eva.” “Now, he’s all mine.”

I looked at Melody’s smug face, but I couldn’t even bring myself to be angry. What was the point of arguing anymore? It had been three years. If Xavier had trusted me even for a second, he would have checked the hospital payment records. Or he would have looked into why I was being hunted by loan sharks right after he left. But he never did. He only believed what he saw. He only believed that I took his rival’s check, slapped him, and told him to get lost. “Melody.” I supported myself against the wall and stood up, my head spinning. “He’s yours. Keep him.” My calmness made Melody’s face twitch. Just as she was about to snap, footsteps echoed in the hallway. “Melody, are you done?” Xavier pushed the door open and walked in. Melody’s eyes instantly welled with tears, and she deliberately threw herself toward the glass coffee table nearby. “Ah!” Her wrist scraped against the sharp edge of the table, leaving a bright red scratch. “Eva, why did you push me? I just wanted to make sure you got the invitation…” Xavier rushed over instantly, shielding Melody in his arms. He glared at me, his eyes filled with pure rage. “Eva, do you have a death wish?” Despite the sharp ringing in my ears, I found the situation utterly ridiculous. “I didn’t push her.” Xavier didn’t hesitate to strike my face. The force of his slap sent me crashing to the floor, and the taste of blood filled my mouth. My fragile brain nerves throbbed in excruciating pain, and my vision began to turn black. “That was to teach you some manners.” Xavier looked at me as if I were a piece of trash. “You threw me away like a dog when I was sick just for some cash, and now you’re jealous enough to hurt your own sister.” “Eva, you’re not just pathetic. You’re evil.” My left ear began to ring violently, too. The world instantly fell into dead silence. I saw his lips moving, but I couldn’t hear a single word he was saying. As it turned out, complete silence wasn’t scary. It was actually quite peaceful. Melody sobbed in his arms, and he gently picked her up, looking at her with deep worry. Before leaving, he threw a credit card onto my body. “There’s fifty thousand dollars in there. Consider this the final payoff to end whatever we had.” “Get out of New York and never show your face in front of Melody again. Otherwise, I have a thousand ways to make your life a living hell.” Money. It was always about money. I wiped the blood from my lip and slowly picked up the card. The contempt in Xavier’s eyes deepened as he carried Melody out of the room. The next day, I went back to the Sinclair estate. I only wanted to pack a few of my old clothes before checking myself into a quiet hospice care facility in the suburbs to spend my remaining days. As soon as I walked in, I heard Mrs. Sinclair talking on the phone in the living room, her voice dripping with flattery and joy. “Yes, yes, Melody and Xavier are getting engaged the day after tomorrow. You must come!” When she hung up and saw me, her smile instantly vanished. “What are you doing back here, you curse? Haven’t you embarrassed us enough?” Mrs. Sinclair snatched my bag and dumped everything onto the floor. A few faded old shirts fell out, along with an unlabeled bottle of painkillers. She poked my forehead aggressively with her finger and spat out insults. “You disgraced this family for a few dirty bucks back then!” “Now that Xavier is incredibly rich, you shamelessly crawl back to be his mistress!” “How did I give birth to a shameless whore like you!” “Why can’t you be more like your sister and behave yourself!” I numbly knelt down to pick up my clothes. Indeed, why couldn’t I be Melody? Why was it that despite being daughters of the same household, she was pampered like a princess while I was born only to provide bone marrow for her? Just as I reached for my pill bottle, Mrs. Sinclair’s high heel stomped heavily onto the back of my hand.

“Did you hear me talking to you? Are you trying to ruin your sister’s engagement party?” Her sharp heel ground viciously into my knuckles. My left ear had recovered a tiny bit of hearing, just in time to catch her shrill curses. “Mom, let it go.” Melody walked down the stairs, holding Xavier’s arm. They really were inseparable now. Melody walked over and gently pulled Mrs. Sinclair back, acting like a sweet, understanding angel. “Eva hasn’t had it easy lately. Even though she has a bad reputation for drinking and strip-dancing for men at VIP lounges, she’s just trying to survive.” When Xavier heard “drinking and strip-dancing,” his expression darkened. He was the one who had forced me to do those things. “Take your trash and get out.” Ignoring the blood dripping from the back of my hand, I grabbed my clothes and the pill bottle, turning to leave. Just as I reached the foyer, a sudden, blinding headache struck. It felt as though someone were drilling into my brain with a power tool. My knees buckled, and I crashed heavily to the floor. “Playing victim again?” Mrs. Sinclair sneered. “Eva, you’ve been playing this tragic act for twenty years. Aren’t you tired of it?” A metallic taste rose in my throat, and I bit my lip hard. I couldn’t throw up. I couldn’t spit blood in front of them. I forced myself to swallow the blood and used the doorframe to pull myself up. “I won’t bother you anymore.” I pushed the door open and stumbled out into the pouring rain. The cold wind and freezing rain beat against my body, chilling me to the bone. Once I ran past the gates of the wealthy estate, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I leaned against a trash can on the curb and threw up a massive pool of blood. The dark red blood mixed with the rainwater, looking terrifying on the wet concrete. I leaned against the brick wall, gasping for breath, and took out my phone. I transferred all the money I had saved over the past three years—including the fifty thousand dollars Xavier had thrown at me—to the director of the orphanage who had taken care of me when I was a child. “Director, please use this money for the kids. I’m going on a long trip, and I don’t think I’ll be coming back.” After sending the message, I threw my phone into the trash can. There was nothing left for me in this city. I found a cheap, remote motel and spent my days swallowing handfuls of cheap painkillers. My body decayed rapidly. My vision began to blur, my hearing completely vanished, and my world turned into a dark, silent void. It hurt. It hurt so much. Every night, I would writhe in agony on the cold motel floor. I dug my fingernails deep into my own flesh until they bled, using the sharp physical pain just to keep myself conscious. Eventually, I didn’t even have the strength to crawl to the sink for a cup of water. I knew my end was near. On the last day of my life, I dreamed of Xavier from three years ago. Back then, he wasn’t this cold and heartless. He was terribly sick, lying in our tiny rented basement, holding my hand tightly as he said: “Eva, once I get better, I’ll marry you.” “I’ll make sure you’re the happiest girl in New York.” Back then, I smiled like a fool. For those words, I willingly went to beg his dangerous, mob-connected rival. I let dozens of men pin me down, break my ribs, beat me until my ear bled, and force me to sign a massive high-interest loan. But I got the ten million dollars that saved his life. I went back to him covered in blood. To make sure he would focus on his treatment without worrying about me, I threw the money in his face and slapped him hard. “Xavier, you’re a useless cripple. I’m done playing house with you.” His eyes at that moment looked as desperate and broken as a dying animal. When I woke up from the dream, my body was twitching with pain. In the pitch black, I fumbled around and grabbed a small metal box from the nightstand. Inside was a blood-stained hospital critical condition notice from three years ago, and the loan contract that had long been paid off. I hugged the metal box tightly against my chest, as if holding onto my ridiculous, short life. If there is a next life, Xavier… I hope I never meet you again.

Today was the day of Xavier and Melody’s engagement party. In the grand ballroom of New York’s most luxurious five-star hotel, Mrs. Sinclair, dressed in an expensive designer gown, moved gracefully among the wealthy guests, basking in their compliments. “Mrs. Sinclair, you are so blessed. Melody is marrying Mr. Knight. She’s going to live like a queen for the rest of her life.” “Oh, thank you. Melody has always been a sweet girl, and Xavier is a very loyal man.” Mrs. Sinclair couldn’t stop smiling. Xavier stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, wearing a perfectly tailored black tuxedo and holding a glass of champagne. He stared out at the gloomy sky, feeling an inexplicable sense of anxiety. His eyelid had been twitching all morning. Since dawn, he had been waiting for Eva to call him. He knew Eva too well. That woman would do anything for money. She had no dignity left. On an occasion like this, she would definitely show up to make a scene, or kneel before him to beg for money. To prevent that, he had specifically hired a dozen extra security guards to patrol the entrance. If she dared to show up, he would crush her remaining self-respect right in front of New York’s high society. But the ceremony was about to start, and there was still no sign of Eva at the gates. “Xavier, what are you looking at?” Melody, dressed in a gorgeous white gown, walked over and sweetly wrapped her arms around his. Xavier snapped out of his thoughts, hiding his impatience. “Nothing.” “Are you waiting for Eva?” Melody pouted, her voice dripping with fake sadness. “Eva is so petty. I even sent her an invitation myself.” “Even if she’s mad at me, she shouldn’t play missing on such an important day.” Mrs. Sinclair walked over and let out a cold snort. “It’s better if she doesn’t show up!” “We don’t need her filthy, pathetic presence ruining our day!” “Why even mention that jinx on such a happy occasion?” Xavier tightened his grip on his champagne glass. Yes, it was better if she didn’t show up. But why did his chest feel so empty, as if a vital piece of his heart had been ripped out? The romantic music began to play, and the host took the stage to announce the start of the ceremony. Xavier set down his glass and took Melody’s hand. Right then, the heavy double doors of the ballroom were slammed open. Two police officers in uniform walked in, followed by a couple of forensic medical examiners in white coats. The noisy ballroom instantly fell silent. Everyone turned their eyes to the door. Xavier frowned, the uneasy feeling in his chest suddenly magnifying a hundred times. The officers walked straight to the stage, their eyes sweeping over the crowd before landing on Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair. “Are you the family of Eva Sinclair?” Mrs. Sinclair’s smile froze, and she immediately spat out in irritation: “What trouble did that useless girl cause this time?” “Officer, we kicked her out of our house a long time ago. Whatever she did has absolutely nothing to do with the Sinclair family!” Xavier let go of Melody’s hand and took a step forward, his voice suddenly tightening. “What happened to her?” The leading officer pulled out a transparent evidence bag. Inside was a rusted, blood-stained metal box and a broken, cheap hearing aid. “We found the body of Ms. Eva Sinclair in a cheap motel on the outskirts of the city.” “According to the preliminary forensic report, she passed away yesterday at approximately 2:00 AM. The cause of death was multiple organ failure caused by a severe, untreated blood clot in her brain.” “We couldn’t reach her emergency contact, so we had to trace her family registry to find you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “447619”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I stole three thousand dollars from my husband, Ethan Vance. That very night, he called the police and had me arrested. After learning about the situation, the police officer tried to persuade Ethan: “Your wife only took the money to pay for your son’s emergency surgery. Why don’t you let this go?” Ethan sneered, his voice cold as ice: “She has hands and feet. If she wants money, she can earn it herself. If I let her off easy this time, she will only get worse in the future.” I smiled bitterly. Ever since our wedding day, when I had urgently asked him for a hundred thousand dollars because my father was critically ill in the hospital, I had been branded as a greedy gold digger in his heart. After we got married, if my expenses exceeded even a single dollar, I had to file a request with his secretary, Scarlett Ward. And every single time, Scarlett rejected my request. Scarlett wrapped her arm around Ethan’s, looking at me with pity: “Chloe, if you needed money, you could have just asked me. You don’t have to keep using the baby as an excuse. Leo is only three and a half. How could you teach your own child to lie like this?” I glanced at the Hermès bag resting on Scarlett’s arm. It was a limited-edition piece Ethan had bought for her, with her name custom-engraved on the leather. The police officer whispered to me: “Three thousand dollars isn’t a massive crime. Just beg your husband. If he drops the charges, you can go home.” I looked at Ethan, then slowly shook my head. “I stole the three thousand dollars. I admit it.”

Ethan’s brow furrowed. His eyes filled with an even deeper, more intense disgust than before. I turned my head away, refusing to explain any further. The officer sighed: “Mrs. Vance, how about this? If you return the three thousand dollars right now, we can handle this with leniency.” “I can’t return it,” I said, staring out the window. “The money has already been paid to the hospital for my son’s surgery.” I looked calmly at the officer and then at Ethan: “I will take full responsibility for what I did.” Ethan’s frown deepened. Scarlett spoke up: “Chloe, you were the one who committed a crime in the first place, and now you have this attitude. Aren’t you just breaking Ethan’s heart?” “I don’t care,” I replied flatly. Ethan let out a cold laugh. “As expected, you haven’t changed a bit. Officer, take her away. Three thousand dollars is more than enough to press grand theft charges.” “Mr. Vance, please calm down,” a female officer stepped forward, holding baby Leo’s critical illness notice. Her eyes were red. While the other officers were questioning me, she had been standing to the side, reviewing my baby’s medical records, her face filled with unbearable pity. “I’m a mother too, and I understand your wife’s desperation. Your child’s critical illness notice is right here. Even if there is a misunderstanding between you two, this was an emergency. It shouldn’t be treated as criminal theft.” As she spoke, she urgently tried to hand the notice to Ethan. But in the next second, Ethan snatched it and tore it into shreds. I stared at him in utter shock. I had always known Ethan hated me. He hated me because I raised the price on our wedding day, making him lose face in front of high society. But how could he hate our own child…? I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. Ethan sneered at the female officer: “You don’t know her. On our wedding day, she forged her father’s critical illness notice just like this, blackmailing me for money.” I stared at him, my mind going completely blank. The female officer wanted to say more, but Ethan pulled out a notarized document—our prenuptial agreement. “It is written clearly here. After marriage, our finances are completely separate. There is no marital property. Her taking my money is theft, plain and simple!” The agreement was thrown carelessly in front of my face. This agreement was the condition he had set on our wedding day. To prove to him that I wasn’t a gold digger, I had signed it without hesitation. After our marriage, his billions had absolutely nothing to do with me. And the notary of this agreement was his secretary, Scarlett. The female officer looked at me: “Mrs. Vance, is there anything else you want to say?” I looked at the prenup on the floor and shook my head. The handcuffs were clicked onto my wrists. The male officer said, unable to bear the cruelty: “Mr. Vance, that’s your child after all. A theft charge will leave her with a permanent criminal record. It will ruin your wife’s reputation and traumatize your child for the rest of his life.” Scarlett immediately countered: “If a mother doesn’t set a good example, how can the child grow up to be an honest and upright person?” She glanced at Ethan, then added quickly, “I’m just speaking my mind, Ethan. This is your family matter, after all. You don’t have to listen to me.” Ethan looked at her, then turned to the police: “Please handle this strictly according to the law.” I kept my head down, refusing to say a word. As I walked past Ethan, the female officer tried one last time: “Mr. Vance, it will take some time to process the booking. If you regret this, you can still drop the charges before dawn.” Ethan said nothing. He watched me get into the police car, his expression unreadable. I sat in the cold cell of the police station all night. I never received Ethan’s notice to drop the charges. The female officer looked at me and sighed. I smiled bitterly and lowered my head.

During the entire interrogation process, I did not say a single word in my defense. Stealing the money. Saving my child. That was my motive. And that was my crime. I was locked up in the detention center for fifteen days. When I was released, nobody was there to pick me up. I walked all the way back to the mansion on foot. Ethan and Scarlett were sitting in the living room. Ethan held a heavy leather whip in his hand. He looked at me coldly: “As my wife, you actually committed theft. I must punish you so you learn your lesson.” My face remained blank. I had known about the Vance family’s strict traditions before I married him. Back then, to stop Ethan from marrying a poor girl like me, his mother had whipped me a hundred times. I loved Ethan so much back then that I actually endured it. His mother had never expected me to survive. Afterward, Ethan had held me close, crying, swearing he would marry me and love me for the rest of his life. Now, seeing this same man holding the whip himself, ready to strike me, I laughed at my own foolishness. It didn’t matter. My baby was alive. What did a few lashes matter? Ethan’s brow furrowed. Seconds passed. He still didn’t get the tearful begging and pleas for forgiveness he expected from me. He handed the whip to Scarlett: “Scarlett has been interning with me since she graduated. She’s like a sister to me. She will administer this punishment on behalf of the Vance family.” I froze. The whip was already in Scarlett’s hand. According to the Vance family rules, the punisher had to be a representative of the family. The whip struck my back fiercely. I lost my balance and fell forward, my hands slamming onto the cold floor. Before I could even scream, the second strike landed. “Ah!” I couldn’t hold back the scream of agony. “One hundred lashes. Not a single one less,” Ethan’s cold voice came from above. “Chloe, you can see your son after the punishment is finished.” Hearing my son’s name, I clenched my hands into fists. When the next strike fell, I bit my lip and didn’t make another sound. “While you’re being beaten, think about what you did wrong. Are you setting a good example for our son?” Ethan turned and walked away. Scarlett put her entire strength into every single blow. When she got tired, she handed the whip to the bodyguard she brought. The sound of the whip slicing through the air lasted for half an hour. “Chloe, have you learned your lesson yet?” Scarlett smiled playfully. I glared at her, refusing to speak. “Looks like you still don’t get it. Keep going!” “That’s already a hundred!” I struggled to stand up. But Scarlett pinned me down hard: “The point of the punishment is to make you admit your mistakes. Clearly, you haven’t. Keep whipping her.” “Let me go! I need to see my baby! Ah!” The whipping continued for another half hour. By the time they finally let me go, I was lying in a pool of blood, barely breathing. “Now, that’s what I call learning a lesson,” Scarlett smirked. I lay on the cold floor alone, shivering as I dragged myself up. I stumbled and crawled towards my baby’s nursery. “Leo…” When I pushed the door open, the sight before me made my blood run cold.

Fifteen days. I didn’t know how my baby had survived these fifteen days. When I left, he was a chubby, healthy little boy. Now, when I held him, his tiny bones poked painfully against my chest. His eyes were deeply sunken, his lips were cracked and bleeding, and dried vomit was crusted all over his clothes. “Where is the nanny? Where is the private nurse I hired for Leo?!” I grabbed the butler, Thomas, like a madwoman. To keep me from touching his money, Ethan made sure his fortune had nothing to do with me. Even the family maids were forbidden from serving me. I had paid for Leo’s private nurse with the money I earned from working part-time. But now, her phone wouldn’t even go through. “The nurse… she was dismissed, ma’am. Miss Scarlett said she was hired with stolen money, so she let her go. She said you should take care of your own child.” I stared at him in utter disbelief. Without a second thought, I scooped Leo up and headed for the door. “Where are you going, ma’am?” “To the hospital!” “Ma’am, Miss Scarlett said Leo cannot be taken anywhere.” “But look at him! He’s dying!” “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Thomas looked at me with pity. “Mr. Vance told us to obey Miss Scarlett’s orders.” “What?!” I looked around. The maids had gathered near the staircase. They pretended to do chores, but their eyes were fixed on me. If I tried to run, they would stop me. “Ma’am, please don’t make things difficult for us.” “Chloe, you just got whipped. Why are you making a scene again?” Scarlett suddenly appeared. Clutching Leo tightly, I gritted my teeth and slammed myself hard into Scarlett. “Ah! Chloe, what are you doing?!” “Miss Scarlett!” The maids rushed to help her, leaving the staircase wide open. I dashed down without hesitation. Suddenly, Scarlett started sobbing loudly: “Ethan, save me!” “Chloe?” Ethan was walking up the stairs. I was blocked once again. “Ethan! Save me!” Scarlett lay on the floor, crying as she reached out to him. “Chloe tried to kill me!” “Scarlett!” Ethan rushed to hold her, then barked at the guards, “Hold Chloe down!” “Let me go! I need to go to the hospital! Let me go!” I thrashed wildly. A dozen bodyguards easily pinned me to the floor. I screamed like a lunatic: “Ethan! She is trying to kill our son! I have to take Leo to the hospital! Tell them to—” Slap! A harsh slap cut me off. Ethan stood over me, looking down coldly: “I was the one who ordered Scarlett to punish you. If you want revenge, come at me!” “Mr. Vance! Your son!” a bodyguard gasped, holding Leo out to him. At first glance, Ethan’s pupils dilated in shock. “Chloe Vance!” Ethan lunged forward and choked me in a frenzy: “Is this how you take care of our child?! “Is this what you meant by ‘stealing money to cure him’?! “You used our own child just to extort money from me! “Is there anything you won’t do?!” My throat was squeezed so tight I couldn’t breathe. I could only make weak, choking sounds. “Thomas!” Ethan roared. “Give the baby to Scarlett!” My eyes widened. Ethan glared at me through gritted teeth: “You don’t deserve to be his mother. “From today on, Scarlett is Leo’s stepmother!” Scarlett’s eyes lit up, quickly hiding her smugness. She took Leo into her arms with a look of fake concern. “Ethan! Don’t give him to her! Give him back to me! Give Leo back!!” “Lock her in the basement!” Ethan growled. “No water for three days! Let her stay there until she realizes our child is not her cash cow!” Scarlett held Leo, her eyes red: “Don’t worry, Chloe. I’ll take good care of Leo for you.” “Ethan! No—ah!” A bodyguard shoved me down into the dark basement. The heavy door slammed shut, plunging me into complete darkness.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “447620”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

When I was being mutilated by illegal organ traffickers, my husband was in the hospital, gently wiping down his childhood sweetheart’s body. Right before I died, I dialed his number with my blood-covered hand. The call went through, but he only let out a cold sneer. “Finally ready to admit you’re wrong?!” “Just admit it, Clara! Your petty jealousy triggered Chloe’s heart attack! I am so sick of your constant tantrums. Unless you die, I will never forgive you!” The next second, he hung up. In pure despair, I closed my eyes forever. The next day, my husband was desperate to find a compatible heart for Chloe’s transplant. Luckily, he secured one. On the third day, as a forensic pathologist, he received a dismembered, unidentified Jane Doe from the police. But no matter how hard he examined the body, he couldn’t find her heart. The day after I died, Ethan finally managed to buy a heart through his black-market connections. He immediately scheduled the transplant surgery for Chloe. At the same time, the police delivered a newly found, dismembered corpse to the morgue. It was handed over to Ethan. Detective Carter said angrily, “The killer was a monster. How could anyone do something so brutal?” Ethan didn’t say a word. He just stared at the remains on the table. Suddenly, he let out a soft frown, picked up a brain tissue sample, and began examining it closely. When he finally stopped, Detective Carter quickly asked, “Did you find any clues?” Ethan furrowed his brows. “It’s been at least two days since she died, but there’s still some unusual cellular activity in the brain.” “This means the victim was tortured brutally before her death. Also… her heart is missing from these remains.” Ethan’s eyes flickered as he spoke. Detective Carter gasped and immediately turned to the officers behind him. “Hurry! Search the entire city! This is a major clue. Even if you have to dig up the whole town, find that missing heart!” “Dammit, the feds just launched a crackdown on organ trafficking, and these bastards still dare to do this? To murder someone so brutally… they have absolutely no respect for the law!” Then, he looked at Ethan with concern. “Ethan, I heard you and your wife had a fight?” A look of pure disgust flashed across Ethan’s cold face. “Don’t bring her up. She made Chloe suffer so much. It’s better if she just rots out there.” Hearing his words, my ghostly soul still felt a sharp, stabbing pain. He was still blaming Chloe’s heart attack on me. Detective Carter apologized, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that two days ago, your neighbors saw a strange car entering the neighborhood on security footage. That was the exact night Clara walked out after your fight.” “We’ve checked the surrounding areas. No one else is reported missing except your wife. Have you tried calling her to check in?” After a brief silence, Ethan’s frown relaxed, replaced by a mocking smirk. “Clara is just petty. She can’t stand me caring about anyone else. This isn’t the first time she’s thrown a tantrum. Every single time, she eventually crawls back and begs for my forgiveness. This time, she’s just trying to show me some pathetic display of her resolve.” “Detective, your focus should be on this brutal murder. A trivial matter like Clara doesn’t deserve your time.” Hearing this, Detective Carter swallowed his words. He shook his head, sighed, and went to deploy his team. I let out a bitter, ghostly laugh. I used to think our past arguments would make him realize my frustration. But now I saw the truth. To him, my pain was just a clown’s performance.

Ethan buried himself in the autopsy room. To reconstruct how my body had been dismembered and my organs harvested, Ethan worked for two days straight without sleep. It wasn’t until a pounding headache hit him that he finally stopped. Just then, his phone rang. It was the HR representative from my company. “Hello, is this Ethan? Clara has been MIA for three days now. If she doesn’t show up tomorrow, we’ll have to terminate her employment.” Ethan sneered, “She’s always been irresponsible. On top of that, she has violent tendencies. Go ahead and fire her. It’s for the best.” “Well, could you try to contact her for us? Her phone keeps going straight to voicemail…” “Sorry, I don’t have time. If she doesn’t go to work, just fire her.” Ethan added coldly, “And make sure she’s blacklisted. You wouldn’t want someone like her threatening the safety of your company anyway.” “…” The call disconnected. Detective Carter walked over. “Ethan, you should go home and get some rest. And call your wife. You two are married. You need to communicate to make things last.” Ethan wanted to refuse, but the sharp pain in his temples made it impossible to continue working. He reluctantly agreed. On the drive back, he opened his phone and glanced at his call logs. At the very top was Chloe’s number, saved under the contact name “My Sweetheart.” Looking at that name, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. He claimed to be obsessed with autopsies, yet even at the precinct, his mind was entirely focused on Chloe’s recovery. As for my last call, it was from three days ago. That day, Ethan had brought Chloe to our house. He had called me in advance to ask when I would be home. I had bought him a luxury watch he had been eyeing for a long time. To surprise him, I lied and told him I was working late. But the moment I unlocked the front door, I saw the two of them passionately kissing in the living room. Their clothes were half-off, tangled up in each other. Furious, I grabbed a heavy broom near the door and swung it at Chloe. But before I could even touch her, she collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. Ignoring my tears and questions, Ethan immediately called an ambulance and rushed her to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with a sudden heart attack. That night, Ethan stormed back home to yell at me. He blamed me, saying that if I hadn’t scared her, Chloe wouldn’t have almost died. But he was completely blind. I hadn’t even touched his mistress. She had collapsed from the sheer excitement of their own cheap affair. In a fit of rage, I walked out of the house. And I never made it back. Ethan’s finger hovered over my name on his screen. Surprisingly, he tapped it. I held my ghostly breath. Before I died, I had set up an emergency voice message on my phone and thrown it into the bushes with all my strength.

As long as the killers hadn’t found and destroyed my phone, Ethan would know I was dead the moment he called. But after a few seconds, he swiped his finger to cancel the call. He let out a cold smirk. “Playing hard to get again, Clara? Let’s see how long you can hold out before you come crawling back to beg.” “But even if you get down on your knees and beg Chloe for forgiveness this time, I won’t forgive you.” I smiled bitterly. He had no idea that I was already dead. Even if I wanted to apologize, I couldn’t. And why did he think his affair was so justified? He used my heart to save his mistress, yet he expected me to apologize to him indefinitely. I had tolerated him for too long, letting him stomp all over my dignity without a shred of respect. I screamed at him in rage, but he couldn’t hear me. Soon, Ethan arrived at the hospital. In the private suite, I saw a pale, fragile Chloe. Seeing Ethan, her eyes lit up. She tried to reach out to him but accidentally tumbled from the bed, coughing violently. Ethan rushed forward, catching her in his arms. He didn’t care about the spit and grime on her hospital gown as he gently lifted her back onto the bed. Watching this, a familiar ache pierced my dead heart. During our marriage, Ethan barely let me touch him. I always thought he had a severe case of OCD and hated physical contact. But now, looking at how he held her, I realized his OCD was selective. He just didn’t want to touch me. Ethan gently wiped Chloe’s mouth and said softly, “I’m sorry, Chloe. A brutal murder case came up at the precinct, and I had to focus on the investigation.” Chloe sighed. “If even you—the legend of the forensics department—find it difficult, I can’t imagine how horrific the case must be.” Hearing this, Ethan told her everything about the autopsy. When he mentioned that the victim’s heart was missing, Chloe instinctively touched her own chest. “Ethan… do you think… it could be the one inside me?” Ethan froze for a second, then pulled her into a tight hug. “Don’t overthink it, Chloe. The world isn’t that small. Besides, I obtained this heart through legitimate medical channels. It can’t possibly belong to that victim.” Chloe nodded happily, believing his lies. “Okay. If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead. I’ll believe anything you say.” Ethan smiled tenderly, nodding. They stared into each other’s eyes, dripping with affection. Then, a shadow of worry crossed Chloe’s face. Ethan asked, “What’s wrong, Chloe?” “Your wife is terrifying. We were just hugging after not seeing each other for so long, and she tried to kill me.” “Why did you even marry someone like her? Will she come back to hurt me again?” Ethan’s face darkened with anger. “She’s just a petty, narrow-minded woman who can’t stand me having any contact with you. But don’t worry, it won’t happen again. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Chloe’s eyes lit up. “Ethan, does that mean…” After a few seconds of silence, a look of resolve settled in Ethan’s eyes. “Once she comes back, I’m divorcing her.” “Really?!” Ethan looked at Chloe with pure adoration and nodded. Then, they leaned in for a deep kiss. When they pulled apart, Ethan pulled out his phone, found my contact info, and deleted it without hesitation. I stood there, dazed. He was actually divorcing me for Chloe. Our three-year marriage had officially come to an end. But since I was already dead, he would probably be thrilled. At least he wouldn’t have to go through the legal hassle of a divorce. Suddenly, Ethan’s phone rang. He whispered a few comforting words to Chloe before stepping out of the room to answer it. Detective Carter’s urgent voice came through the speaker. “Ethan, have you heard from Clara yet?” Hearing my name, Ethan frowned. “Detective, this is my personal life. I—” “I’m not trying to meddle in your marriage, Ethan,” Detective Carter interrupted, his voice grave. “We just got a lead on the victim’s missing heart.” “And it’s highly likely connected to your wife, Clara.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “447605”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Three days before my wedding with Ethan. My best friend, Chloe, sat crying on her couch, sobbing that she had fallen in love with someone she shouldn’t have. That night, I stayed with her and drank until we were both wasted. Then, I called Ethan to come pick us up. Half an hour later, I heard those familiar footsteps stop right beside me. Ethan leaned down, gently pinching my cheek just like he used to do whenever I got drunk. “Hazel?” he whispered. I bit back a smile and pretended to be asleep. I thought that once he realized I was faking, he’d let out a helpless sigh, scoop me up in his arms, and kiss me senseless as a “punishment.” Just like he had done a thousand times before. But the next second, he turned away from me and walked over to Chloe. “Chloe, why did you drink so much?” Chloe sleepily grabbed his sleeve. “Ethan…” He didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned down and cooed, “I’m right here.” I lay there, frozen on the couch. Every drop of alcohol in my system evaporated instantly. At that exact moment, I realized something. I knew exactly who Chloe was in love with.

Ethan carried Chloe to the front passenger seat first. His movements were practiced and natural. When he finally turned back to carry me, I slowly opened my eyes. “Ethan, why did you carry her first?” His steps paused. He looked down at me, his voice low and soothing. “She’s much drunker than you. You can stretch out and lie down in the back seat. It’s more comfortable.” I nodded slowly. His logic made sense. But for some reason, my chest still ached. I looked down, pretending the alcohol was hitting me again, and weakly grabbed the hem of his jacket. “Ethan.” He looked down at me. “Yeah?” “If you ever cheat on me, I’ll ruin you.” He let out a low chuckle, treating me like a drunk, unreasonable girl throwing a tantrum. “I could never. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” I didn’t say anything. I just slowly closed my eyes. The bridge of my nose stung with unshed tears. As we went through an intersection, a pedestrian suddenly ran across the street. Ethan slammed on the brakes. My forehead hit the back of the front seat. The pain made my vision go black for a second. His first instinct, however, was to reach out his arm to shield Chloe. Only after Chloe was securely settled did he look up, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror. I quickly shut my eyes. I didn’t even dare to analyze whether he was worried about me, or just trying to see if I was awake. Before I knew it, the car stopped in front of Chloe’s apartment building. Ethan got out, bent down, and carried Chloe inside. I slowly pushed the car door open and followed them. The hallway was quiet, with only the echo of our footsteps. I kept a few paces behind them. Over and over, I kept telling myself in my head: Maybe you’re just overthinking. But the next second, Ethan pressed his thumb against the biometric lock. The door clicked open. I froze, staring in absolute disbelief. Chloe stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Their silhouettes tangled together as they stepped backward into the apartment. In that single moment, I realized. Some questions didn’t need to be asked anymore. Through the half-open door, Ethan finally looked up. The moment he saw me standing there, it was as if he’d been slapped awake. He pushed Chloe away abruptly. “Chloe’s drunk. I was just helping her upstairs.” My gaze drifted to the biometric lock. I asked quietly, “Did you set up your fingerprint just to help her upstairs, too?” Ethan went silent for two long seconds before speaking in a low voice. “She needed help with wedding samples and client drafts before. I just helped her out a few times.” “Was kissing her also part of the job?” Chloe’s eyes were red as she spoke up. “Hazel, don’t blame him. It was all me…” “Chloe, since when is it your job to explain things for my fiancé?” Ethan immediately stepped forward, shielding Chloe behind his back. “Enough, Hazel. This has nothing to do with her.” I looked at him calmly and nodded. “Right, it has nothing to do with her. I shouldn’t have followed you up, I shouldn’t have seen it, and I shouldn’t have asked.” A flash of panic crossed Ethan’s eyes. “That’s not what I meant.” I shook my head. “I’ve spent the entire car ride making excuses for you.” “But I’m done lying to myself. We’re over.” With that, I turned around and walked away. Hurried footsteps echoed behind me. Ethan grabbed my wrist, his palm burning hot against my skin. “Hazel, stop talking out of anger, okay?” “We’ve been together for eight years, not eight days.” “The wedding dress is picked, the venue is booked. Our wedding is in three days.” “You were up until midnight yesterday editing our wedding video.” My steps halted. That video was a collection of proposal clips he had secretly recorded in countless places. From our college campus to street corners, from snowy mountains to the beach. Eight years of our lives, pieced together second by second by my own hands. My eyes welled with tears. At that moment, I almost wanted to ask him: Ethan, can you cut ties with Chloe right now? But before I could speak, a soft whimper came from inside the apartment. “Ethan…” The next second, his grip on my wrist loosened. “Her stomach is acting up. I need to go check on her.” He took two steps back inside, then paused, looking at me as if fearing I would actually disappear. “Hazel, wait for me downstairs.” “Wait till I get back, and we’ll talk.”

I looked at him and slowly pulled my hand away. “Okay.” Ethan visibly relaxed and turned back into the apartment. I stood there, pulling out my phone to open the WhatsApp wedding planning group. I suddenly remembered when Ethan first started out as an independent wedding planner. He had worked through the night, revising the itinerary over and over again. I had asked him, “It’s just one wedding. Why are you working so hard?” He had looked down and smiled. “Because every bride is trusting us with a once-in-a-lifetime dream.” “A wedding planner’s most important job is to never let the bride down.” Later, for our own wedding, he spent over three months tweaking the design. Chloe had also volunteered to be our wedding coordinator. I stared at the chat box, and finally sent out a single message: [The wedding is canceled.] In the back of the Uber, my phone buzzed continuously. This time, it was Chloe. I picked up. “Hazel, please don’t be reckless, okay?” Soon, the voice on the other end changed to Ethan’s. “I was wrong tonight.” “But you can’t throw away everyone’s hard work just because you’re mad at me.” I stared out the window and said softly, “Ethan.” “Do you remember what you told me when you planned your first wedding?” “Well, you’ve completely let your bride down.” With that, I hung up. My fingers clenched tightly around my phone. I couldn’t understand. Why did it have to be them? The two people closest to me had personally destroyed the future I had looked forward to for so long. I lowered my head, finally breaking down into tears. I didn’t go back to our shared apartment. All the wedding decorations were still there, along with everything we had prepared. But after tonight, I never wanted to step foot in that place again. By the time I made it to my flower studio, the sky was already turning gray. The next morning, Ethan’s call woke me up. “Hazel, Chloe lost the bridal bouquet you dropped off yesterday while she was doing inventory.” “Can you put together a replacement? I’ll come pick it up.” I held the phone, not answering immediately. If this had happened yesterday, I would have panicked. But now, I felt entirely numb. The contract was still active, and the final payment hadn’t been settled yet. “Okay,” I replied. I opened the walk-in cooler. Since my own wedding was supposed to be tomorrow, I hadn’t ordered any new inventory. The only flowers left inside were the ones I had saved for myself. Ethan had helped me pick them out, stem by stem. I pulled them out, trimming the stems, removing the thorns, and wrapping them with ribbon. With every cut of the shears, it felt like I was snipping away a piece of our past. Just as the bouquet was nearly finished, the doorbell rang. Ethan had arrived, with Chloe trailing right behind him. When Ethan saw the flowers on the table, his face fell. “Hazel, aren’t these…” He didn’t finish his sentence. I bent my head to tie the final ribbon. “Yeah, they were meant for my wedding tomorrow.” Ethan frowned. I handed the completed bouquet to him. “I don’t have anything else.” After a pause, I smiled faintly. “No more flowers, and no more wedding.” Just as he was about to speak, Chloe tugged at his sleeve. “Ethan, we’re going to be late.” Ultimately, he took the bouquet. “Hazel, wait for me to get back.” After watching them walk away, I opened my email on my phone. At the very top of my inbox was an admission letter from a prestigious floral design school in Paris, received three days ago. Honestly, I had waited for this opportunity for a long time. But Ethan had told me that once we were married, I shouldn’t go running off to other countries. I tapped the confirmation link again. And booked a one-way ticket leaving tonight. I began canceling everything related to the wedding. With every vendor chat I closed, it felt like I was tearing out a piece of my own soul from the last eight years. In the end, only the venue setup remained, which I didn’t have the authorization to cancel. By the time I arrived at the hotel to find Ethan, the bride’s reception was already underway. On stage, the bride held my bouquet, her face glowing with happiness. The bride choked up as she spoke into the mic: “The person I want to thank the most today is Chloe.” “My original bouquet was lost by the florist.” “But Chloe put this one together at the last minute so I wouldn’t have any regrets.”

Ethan spotted me in the banquet hall almost immediately. He walked over quickly, blocking my path. “This is the first wedding Chloe is coordinating on her own.” “She worked so hard on this. Don’t make a scene now.” I hadn’t said a single word. Yet in his eyes, my mere presence made me the villain who was there to ruin Chloe’s moment. I pulled out the floral delivery receipt from my bag. Chloe’s signature was clearly written on it. Chloe’s face turned pale, and she immediately reached out to grab it. “Hazel, can we talk about this after the wedding, please?” “I know you’re mad at me, but today is about the client…” Hearing the commotion, the bride’s mother walked over. “Is there a problem here?” Chloe lowered her head, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry, this is my fault.” “The bride was under a lot of stress, and there was an issue with the original bouquet. I just made a quick replacement.” With that one sentence, all eyes fell on me. I looked up at Ethan. But he only gently pressed down on my wrist. “Let’s just get through the wedding first.” I suddenly remembered how, in the past, whenever something went wrong, Ethan would always stand by my side without hesitation. Back then, even without proof, he believed me. Now, knowing the truth, he was telling me to back down. The bride’s mother looked at me cold-eyed. “Miss Brooks, today is my daughter’s wedding. Whatever business issues you have, they shouldn’t be brought here.” My mouth opened, but no words came out. I had already lost my own wedding. I didn’t want to ruin another bride’s day. Numbly, I sat down on a sofa outside the banquet hall. Through the half-open door, I saw Chloe’s manager scolding her with a dark expression. “You were in charge of inventory. You lost the bouquet and then had the client thank you publicly?” Chloe kept her head down, tears streaming down her face. Ethan stood beside her, making excuses on her behalf. Once the manager left, the hallway fell quiet again. Ethan turned and walked toward me. “Are you happy now, Hazel?” “Chloe worked herself to the bone for this.” “Did you really have to destroy all her hard work?” I suddenly burst out laughing. “Ethan, is Chloe really that important to you?” “So important that you can’t even tell right from wrong anymore?” Ethan seemed to finally register what he had said. His expression stiffened, and he took a step closer to me. “That’s not what I meant.” “Things were just too chaotic. I was stressed, and I took it out on you.” He was always like this during our past arguments. He’d make me cry first, then soften his voice to comfort me. And as long as he apologized, I would always cave. “Ethan, for work matters, contact my assistant.” “As for our personal life, we’re done.” Ethan let out a bitter, frustrated laugh. “Have you had enough of this tantrum?” Chloe also spoke up, her eyes red. “Hazel, this joke is going a bit too far.” Before the words could fully leave her mouth, a sudden commotion broke out inside the banquet hall. The groom stormed out, his face incredibly dark. The next second, he threw the bouquet violently on the floor right in front of us. “Didn’t we explicitly tell you guys that the bride is highly allergic to gardenias?” I instinctively looked down. Among the scattered white roses on the floor, there was a single gardenia stem.

Chloe froze, her face instantly losing all color. Tears fell from her eyes right on cue. “Hazel, I know you hate me.” “But the client is innocent…” Ethan frowned, turning his gaze to me. “Hazel, I never thought you could be this malicious.” I curled my lips into a bitter smile, staring straight back at him. “Me neither.” Ethan startled, clearly not expecting that response. He knit his brows, lowering his voice. “Hazel, now is not the time to be stubborn. Apologize to the client first.” Chloe chimed in softly, her eyes red. “Hazel, the bride is resting in the bridal suite. Just go apologize.” She made it sound like she was trying to help me. But every word she spoke was framing me for the crime. The groom was completely furious now, pointing a finger at us as he yelled, “Is this how you run a business?” “You’re quick to take credit, but when something goes wrong, you just point fingers?” Their family members quickly surrounded us, pushing and shoving, demanding an explanation. Chloe gasped, stumbling backward. Almost at the same time, someone shoved my shoulder hard. My foot slipped, and I fell onto the floor. As Ethan rushed over, I still looked up. In that split second, my body reacted faster than my brain. Eight years of habit made me believe he would check on me first. But the next second, he brushed right past me. He pulled Chloe into his arms, shielding her. “Stop pushing!” Just then, the paramedics arrived. The bride was wheeled out. Chloe held her wrist, her eyes brimming with tears. Ethan immediately supported her. “Chloe, I’ll take you to the hospital.” I pushed myself up from the floor, blood trickling down my leg from my scraped knee. A hotel staff member nearby handed me some napkins. “Miss Brooks, you should tend to your leg.” I looked at Ethan. He was busy adjusting Chloe’s coat, never once looking back. In the emergency room hallway. Chloe sat next to Ethan while he softly comforted her. I sat on the opposite bench, letting the nurse clean the scrapes on my knee. The alcohol stung, making my fingers tremble. It wasn’t until the nurse called out my name to sign the paperwork that Ethan seemed to remember I was there. “Hazel?” He walked over, his brows furrowing when he saw my bloody knee. “How did you get hurt like this?” I didn’t answer. “Hazel, tonight was too chaotic. Don’t overthink things.” “Go home and rest. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning to head to the venue.” I looked at him and slowly pulled my leg back. “Okay.” He turned and walked away. And I walked in the opposite direction. By the time my flight landed in Paris and I turned my phone back on, a flood of notifications rushed in.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “447621”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Five years into my marriage with billionaire Ethan Carter, we still didn’t have a marriage license. He told me it was a strict rule in his family—no signing the marriage license until we had a baby to secure the family trust. Five years had passed, and I still hadn’t gotten pregnant. I always thought it was my fault. But a sudden, random check by our insurance clerk shattered my entire world. Ethan had already signed a marriage license—with Serena Miller, his first love. I drove to his office, my heart in my throat, desperate for an explanation. But through the cracked door of his office, I heard him talking to his friend: “I’m never having a baby with Vivian. And I’m definitely not signing a marriage license with her. I had a vasectomy years ago.” “Everyone in high society knows Vivian as my wife. I’ve given her the social status of Mrs. Carter. That’s enough. The only thing I can give Serena is this marriage license. It’s what I owe her.” What Ethan didn’t know was that five years ago, I made a promise to his mother. If I couldn’t produce an heir within five years, I would leave him. And now, there were only three days left.

“What do you mean, my husband is already legally married?” “We’ve been married for five years. We just… haven’t finalized the legal paperwork yet. You must have made a mistake.” I looked at the insurance clerk standing in my living room, her face solemn. I was still desperately trying to convince myself this was a ridiculous error. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Carter—or rather, Ms. Sterling. We checked the public registry for your joint spousal policy. Mr. Ethan Carter is legally married to a woman named Serena Miller. Do you know her?” The polite smile on my face instantly froze. How could I not know that name? Serena Miller was the girl Ethan could never get over. Years ago, Serena left the country to pursue her dreams in Europe. Under pressure from Ethan’s mother, they were forced to break up. That was how I got the chance to stand by Ethan’s side. I knew Serena had returned to New York a few weeks ago, but I hadn’t thought much of it. On the day she landed, Ethan had confessed to me. “Vivian, I failed Serena back then. It was because of my family that she ended up marrying a toxic guy abroad and got abused. Now she’s back, and I just want to help her out, like family. Please don’t overthink it.” At the time, I was touched by his honesty. I generously told him I didn’t mind. But the moment the clerk left my house, I lost my mind. I grabbed my car keys and drove straight to the Carter Group headquarters. I needed to hear the truth. The employees all recognized me, so I walked straight to the executive floor without any interruption. Just as I reached the door of Ethan’s private office, I heard voices coming from inside. “Ethan, what the hell are you playing at?” It was his best friend, Marcus. “Five years ago, you threw a multi-million dollar commitment ceremony with Vivian but refused to sign the marriage license, claiming you needed a baby first. And now, you secretly went to City Hall and married Serena?” There was a long silence before Ethan’s cold, smooth voice echoed through the door. “I’m never having a baby with Vivian, Marcus. And I’m definitely not signing a marriage license with her. I had a vasectomy years ago.” “For five years, I’ve been waiting for Serena to come back.” “Everyone knows Vivian is my wife. I’ve given her the lifestyle, the title of Mrs. Carter. But the only thing I can give Serena is this piece of paper. It’s what I owe her.” Hearing those words, my chest tightened so hard it felt like my heart was being ripped out. I couldn’t even breathe. So, it was all a setup from the very beginning. Five years ago, right after Serena left, Ethan came to me and proposed. He said we could have a lavish wedding, but we couldn’t register the marriage license yet. He claimed the Carter family had a strict rule: an heir must be born before the wife is legally registered into the family lineage. Ethan knew how madly in love with him I was. He knew I wouldn’t say no. On our wedding day, I thought I was the happiest woman alive. I wore a custom white gown, standing next to the man I had adored for years. In the five years that followed, I never got pregnant. But I didn’t think it mattered because to the rest of the world, I was the undisputed Mrs. Carter. Still, I wanted to make it official. For five years, I went to countless fertility clinics. I endured endless rounds of IVF, took heavy hormone pills, and stabbed my stomach with painful needles every single day, vomiting until I was empty. But nothing worked. I thought my body was broken. I blamed myself constantly, remembering how fragile my health was as a child. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that Ethan had gotten a vasectomy before we even stood at the altar. No matter how many needles I took, no matter how much pain I endured, it was all a joke. “Ethan, you’re playing with fire here,” Marcus warned. “I’m not,” Ethan replied with absolute confidence. “Even if Vivian finds out, I’ll just buy her some jewelry and sweet-talk her. She’s too obsessed with me to leave. Besides, she already has the title she wants.” My hands shook violently outside the door. But what Ethan didn’t know was that five years ago, his mother made me sign an agreement. If I couldn’t produce an heir within five years, I had to pack my bags and walk away. And there were only three days left.

Five years ago, when Ethan first proposed to me, his mother, Helen Carter, paid me a private visit. “I don’t particularly like you, Vivian, but you’re at least from a decent background, unlike that gold-digger Serena. I stopped Ethan once, but I can’t stop him a second time,” Helen had said, her voice dripping with aristocratic disdain. “But let me make one thing clear. If you don’t have a baby within five years, and Ethan still refuses to sign your marriage license, you will pack your bags and leave him on your own. Deal?” Without hesitation, I had agreed. For me, just being able to stand beside Ethan was a dream come true. Every girl has a secret crush, and Ethan was mine. I had quietly chased after him for years, even when I knew his heart belonged to Serena. “Mrs. Carter? What are you doing here?” Ethan’s secretary suddenly walked up behind me, her voice breaking my trance. The movement outside caught the attention of the people inside. The office door swung open instantly. I looked up and met Ethan’s furrowed brows. A minute later, the office was cleared. It was just the two of us. “How much did you hear?” Ethan asked, his voice guarded. “Everything,” I said, my voice surprisingly flat. “I know you legally married Serena.” I didn’t bother playing dumb. “Since you know, I’m asking you to keep Serena out of this. It was my decision, not hers,” Ethan said, stepping closer, his tone turning into one of arrogant reassurance. “Don’t worry. To the public, you will always be Mrs. Carter.” I stood there, feeling a profound, chilling sadness wash over me. “Didn’t you tell me last week she was like family to you?” Faced with my question, Ethan remained silent. “So, tell me, Ethan. Between Serena and me… who is the actual mistress here?” “Serena is not a mistress!” Ethan snapped defensively. If Serena wasn’t the mistress, then who was? Me? The woman who had lived with him as his wife for five years? Ethan looked into my eyes, but he couldn’t hold my gaze. He looked away, his guilt quickly morphing into anger. “Enough, Vivian! I told you, you keep the title of Mrs. Carter. Isn’t that enough for you? Stop being so dramatic!” “Ethan, do you have any idea…” Just as I was about to tell him about the agreement I made with his mother, his phone rang. It was a custom ringtone. One he only used for her. He picked it up, and a sweet, whiny voice echoed through the speaker. “Babe! When are you coming home? I really want those cupcakes from the bakery near our old college campus. Can you go buy some for me now?” “Of course, sweetie. I’m leaving right now,” Ethan’s voice softened instantly into a tone he had never used with me. “Will this affect your work? I don’t want to get in the way.” “Never. Nothing is more important than my wife.” He hung up and grabbed his coat. As he walked past me, he seemed to finally remember I was still in the room. “Vivian, drop the attitude. I promise you, the title of Mrs. Carter will always be yours.” With that, Ethan turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him. I was left standing in the empty office. A bitter wave of tears finally spilled over, and I couldn’t stop them. I didn’t even remember how I walked out of that building. My body felt like an empty shell, hollowed out of all life.

Five years of self-deception. Five years of agonizing fertility treatments. Countless needles that left my stomach bruised, and hormone pills that made me vomit daily. All of it became a hilarious joke in the face of Ethan’s words: “I had a vasectomy years ago.” I didn’t go back to the penthouse we shared. Instead, I drove straight to the Carter Estate. Helen Carter was sitting in the grand living room, elegantly trimming imported roses. When she saw me walk in alone, her brows furrowed in annoyance. “Why are you here at this hour? Where is Ethan?” “He went to be with his legal wife,” I said, my voice dead calm. Helen’s hand slipped. A sharp rose thorn pricked her finger, but she didn’t even flinch. She looked up at me, eyes wide with shock. “What did you say?” I took a printed document from my bag and tossed it onto the glass coffee table. It was the registry search result showing Ethan’s active, legal marriage to Serena Miller. “Mrs. Carter. Or maybe I should just call you Helen,” I said, a faint smile playing on my lips. “Five years ago, I promised you that if I couldn’t have a baby in five years and Ethan refused to sign our marriage license, I would leave. Well… time is up.” Helen’s face flushed with a mixture of emotions. Although she had always looked down on my lack of an elite family pedigree, she couldn’t deny that I had taken flawless care of her son for five years. More than that, she never expected the submissive, quiet Vivian to speak to her with such cold defiance. “Vivian, you…” Helen opened her mouth, a brief flicker of guilt crossing her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by the cold calculation of a high-society matriarch. “Since you brought up our agreement, the Carter family won’t send you away empty-handed. However… my father-in-law’s 80th Birthday Gala is in three days. The entire New York elite will be there.” Helen sighed, her tone softening into a manipulative plea. “Grandpa Charles’s health is failing. He cannot handle any shocks. For his sake, and for the reputation of the Carter family, you must attend this gala as Ethan’s wife.” “Once the gala is over, you can leave. I won’t stop you.” I looked at the calculating woman in front of me, the last spark of warmth in my heart completely dying out. To the very end, all they cared about was their precious reputation. “Fine. I’ll play along for one last show,” I agreed instantly. Helen let out a massive sigh of relief. She immediately gestured to her assistant, who handed me a pre-written check. The amount was staggering—a multi-million dollar payoff. “Think of this as your severance package. Consider it my personal compensation to you.” I took the slip of paper, holding it lightly between my fingers. The smile on my face deepened. Helen thought she was buying my silence with a few million dollars. She had no idea that as the sole heiress of the Sterling Group, I could buy ten Carter estates with a snap of my fingers. I took the check only because it was the perfect, ironic receipt to close out the last five years of my humiliating devotion. I turned and walked out of the estate. As the cool night breeze hit my face, I felt lighter than I had in years.

The night before the gala, a heavy, suffocating silence hung over our penthouse. Ethan came home late. When he took off his shoes, his movements were unusually quiet. My behavior over the last few days had thrown him off. I hadn’t cried, I hadn’t screamed, and I hadn’t sent him a single angry text. This sudden loss of control made him anxious. He was used to me worshiping the ground he walked on. He walked over to the sofa and slid a velvet Cartier box onto the table. “It’s a limited-edition high jewelry necklace,” he said, his voice carrying his usual arrogant tone of charity. “Serena’s health is fragile, and she’s been through a lot. I only gave her the marriage license to protect her and give her a sense of security. Just be a good girl, Vivian. To the world, you are the only Mrs. Carter.” I looked at the sparkling diamonds in the box and felt absolutely nothing. Years ago, a single red rose from him would have made me cry with joy. Now, this multi-million dollar necklace only made me sick. But I didn’t blow up. Instead, I picked up the box with a gentle smile. I even stood up and reached out to adjust his silk tie, my fingers lightly grazing his neck. My touch was as gentle as it had been every morning for the past five years. Ethan relaxed, thinking I had succumbed to his wealth once again. He grabbed my hand, his grip tightening. “I knew you’d understand. Make sure everything goes smoothly at the gala tomorrow.” I smiled softly, my voice barely a whisper. “Don’t worry, Ethan. Tomorrow, I will play the part of Mrs. Carter perfectly.” The next evening, the Carter Estate was glittering with lights. The driveway was lined with Bentleys and Lamborghinis as the city’s billionaires, politicians, and socialites arrived for Grandpa Charles’s 80th Birthday Gala. Ethan, dressed in a bespoke Tom Ford tuxedo, walked in with me on his arm. I was wearing a stunning, backless crimson gown. The moment we entered, all eyes were on us. Ethan smirked, his ego thoroughly massaged by the envious stares of his peers. At the peak of the night, Grandpa Charles was helped onto the stage. He took Ethan’s hand and mine, smiling warmly. “Tonight is not just my 80th birthday. It also marks the fifth anniversary of Ethan and Vivian’s marriage. Vivian has been a blessing to our family. Tonight, as an anniversary gift, I am officially transferring 10% of Carter Group’s core shares to her!” The crowd erupted into applause. Helen’s face went stiff, but she had to force a polite smile. Ethan looked at me with deep, performative affection, as if we were the perfect power couple. But just as Grandpa Charles picked up the pen to sign the transfer document, the grand double doors of the ballroom were violently slammed open! A swarm of paparazzi and reporters rushed into the hall, their camera flashes blinding the crowd. And leading the press pack was Serena Miller, dressed in a tragic, flowing white dress, her face pale as a ghost. Suddenly, the giant projector screen behind the stage flickered. High-definition photos of Ethan and Serena kissing, cuddling, and entering luxury hotels filled the screen. The reporters instantly swarmed the stage, shoving microphones into Ethan’s face. “Mr. Carter! Are you having an affair? Has your wife been kept in the dark this entire time?” “Ms. Miller, are you trying to destroy a marriage? Are you his mistress?” Faced with the barrage, Serena burst into tears and held up a certified document. “I am not the mistress! I have our legal marriage certificate right here! I am Ethan Carter’s legal wife! Vivian Sterling is the actual homewrecker who stole my place!” The room fell into a dead, suffocating silence, followed by a wave of furious whispering. Grandpa Charles shook with rage, pointing a trembling finger at Ethan. “What… what is the meaning of this?!” Ethan’s face went completely pale under the flashing lights. He looked at Serena, then at me. Under the immense pressure of his family’s reputation and the live cameras, Ethan made a split-second decision to protect his beloved. He took a deep breath and spoke directly into the microphones. “Serena is telling the truth. She… is my legal wife.” With that single sentence, he officially branded me a mistress in front of the entire city. Ethan turned to look at me, his eyes pleading, silently begging me to play along and help him clean up this mess. But I just smiled. It was a radiant, breathtaking smile, entirely devoid of pain. I slowly opened my luxury clutch, pulled out a thick envelope of documents, and took the microphone from the stand. “Don’t worry about signing those shares over to me, Grandpa Charles,” my voice rang clear and steady through the speakers, echoing in every corner of the ballroom. “Since the legal Mrs. Carter has come to claim her title… I think my part in this play is officially over.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “447606”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I am the real heiress of the Sterling family. It wasn’t until I died in poverty in my past life that I realized I was actually the biological daughter of Arthur Sterling, the billionaire tycoon. After my death, a mystical System bound itself to my soul, offering me a second chance at life. When I was reborn, I went to the Sterling family and initiated the DNA test myself. But the moment I returned to the family, Chloe, the fake heiress who had stolen my life, left a suicide note and jumped into the ocean. She died, instantly becoming the untouchable, tragic “golden girl” in everyone’s hearts. And I, the biological daughter, became nothing but her miserable shadow. My parents wept, demanding to know why I had to come back and ruin everything. My brother, Julian, cursed me, asking why it wasn’t me who died instead. Even my husband, in our most intimate moments, would whisper her name. Now that my five-year quest had failed, the System told me it could grant me one last wish before I died for good. I smiled faintly. “Then bring their precious Chloe back to life.”

The System was silent for a long time. “Can’t you do it? Chloe didn’t actually die, did she?” I asked. “Clara, are you sure about this?” the System’s mechanical voice sounded almost sad. I exhaled slowly, my voice cold and resolute. “I’m absolutely sure.” I was done begging for their fleeting affection and love. The living can never compete with the dead. Even if that “dead” person was actually alive and hiding somewhere. In my past life, I was worked to death at a young age, tortured and exploited by my adoptive parents. After my death, my soul lingered. I heard my adoptive mother, Mrs. Miller, sighing with relief, saying that I was finally dead and could no longer pose a threat to her real daughter’s future. That was when I discovered the truth. I was the Sterlings’ real daughter. My biological mother had gone into premature labor while vacationing in our small town, sharing a hospital room with Mrs. Miller. Seeing how incredibly wealthy my mother was, Mrs. Miller secretly swapped our baby tags. My spirit drifted to the Sterling mansion. I watched the fake heiress living a life of luxury I couldn’t even dream of. Her bedroom was larger than my entire childhood home. Her walk-in closet was overflowing with designer clothes. She wore beautiful gowns, carried herself with elegant grace, and had a private chauffeur to take her everywhere. And my biological parents and brother absolutely adored her. I couldn’t help but think: *If only I had grown up in that house. They would have loved me just as much.* That was when the System bound with me. It offered to let me start over, but with one condition. I had five years to make my family and my husband truly love me. If I succeeded, I could stay in this world. If I failed, I would die permanently. I accepted the deal without hesitation. How could such a warm, loving family not love their own biological daughter? So, after being reborn, I took the initiative to find them. When my mother saw my face—so strikingly similar to hers—she broke down in tears of joy. But during my grand welcoming gala, Chloe left a tragic note and threw herself off a cliff into the ocean. “I wish Clara all the happiness. Let me, the one who stole her eighteen years of luxury, pay for my sins with my life.” From that day on, everyone blamed me for Chloe’s death. My parents grew cold and distant. Julian hated me for murdering his beloved sister. But I hadn’t done a single thing wrong. Later, my father forced me into an arranged marriage with the Vance family. Every fiber of my being wanted to refuse because Tristan Vance was originally Chloe’s fiancé. But I had spent years walking on eggshells, too terrified to speak up. To my surprise, Tristan agreed to the marriage without a fight. It had been five years since my rebirth, and I had been married to Tristan for two. Yet, in those two years, he had never given me a single warm look. My time was running out. If I couldn’t get my family or my husband to love me, I would disappear forever. I grabbed Tristan’s sleeve just as he was about to walk out the door. “Can you just say you love me? Just once.” His dark eyes stared down at me, turning icy cold before he violently shook my hand off. “Clara, you are truly disgusting.” “You know today is the anniversary of Chloe’s death, yet you stand here demanding I say I love you? Have you forgotten I was supposed to marry her?” “The woman I wanted to marry was never you. You stole her place and took things that never belonged to you. Don’t push your luck.” But I didn’t force him to marry me. The marriage was a business merger between the Sterling Group and the Vance Group. It was purely for profit. He married me for money, so why was I the one carrying all the blame? I was his wife. I just wanted to hear him say he loved me. Was that really such a crime? “I just want to see what kind of magic Chloe has that makes my family and my husband hate me so much. So, bring her back.” I wanted to see if they would feel even a shred of guilt when their precious Chloe appeared before them, perfectly fine. “Very well. I will grant your wish,” the System replied. I lay lazily on the lounge chair, trying to rest, when my mother called. She immediately started yelling at me, demanding to know why I hadn’t gone to Chloe’s grave to pay my respects. She said I owed her this. For the past five years, this day had felt like a public execution. I would be dragged out like a criminal while they wept over their memories of Chloe. “I have things to do today. I’m not coming,” I said coldly. The line went dead silent for a few seconds. She couldn’t believe that I, who had spent years desperately trying to please them, had actually rejected her. I didn’t have many days left to live. Why should I go back and let them treat me like garbage? Besides, their beloved Chloe was coming back anyway.

But my refusal to play along didn’t mean they were going to let me go. The next afternoon, Julian burst into my house, trembling with rage. “Clara! Why didn’t you come home yesterday? You made Mom cry her eyes out!” The fury in his eyes was so intense it looked like he wanted to burn me alive. I just stared at him, my expression completely blank. My lack of reaction only made him angrier. “I hate this fake, emotionless act of yours! Stop pretending!” “Do you have any idea what yesterday was? It was Chloe’s death anniversary! You killed her five years ago, and you don’t feel a single shred of remorse? You knew Mom would be devastated, and you didn’t even bother to come back and comfort her!” “You don’t deserve to be Mom’s daughter. You aren’t even worth a single hair on Chloe’s head. Why couldn’t it have been you who died?” Listening to his harsh words, I remembered how much it used to hurt. I used to cry and beg for his forgiveness, trying everything to make him like me. I wanted him to protect me the way other brothers protected their sisters. But five years of coldness had completely frozen my heart. I was done coddling them. After all, Chloe was on her way back. Suddenly, a sharp, stabbing pain flared in my chest. It was happening so fast. In my past life, this was the exact time I had died of bone cancer brought on by extreme exhaustion. Since I had failed the System’s mission, was my body reverting to its cancerous state? I clutched my chest, my face turning deathly pale as cold sweat broke out on my forehead. “Clara, cut the act. I’m not falling for your pathetic drama,” Julian sneered. I couldn’t help but laugh, a cold, mocking sound escaping my lips. “Wow, you’re so smart, Julian. You saw right through me.” “You’re right. I did it on purpose. I deliberately stayed away to ruin Mom’s day, and now I’m pretending to be sick just to annoy you.” I lifted my chin, looking at him with a spiteful glare I had never shown before. “Seeing how miserable and angry you all are… it actually makes me incredibly happy.” “If I had known this would be so much fun, I wouldn’t have spent the last five years acting like a kicked puppy. It’s such a pity that a horrible person like me is still alive…” “…while your precious, perfect Chloe is rotting in the ocean.” I curled my lips into a cruel smile. “Jumping off a cliff… that must have been so terrifying and painful. But honestly, she got off easy after stealing my wealth for eighteen years.” *SLAP!* A stinging slap landed squarely on my cheek. My face burned instantly, and my ears started ringing. Julian’s face went pale. He stared at his hand in shock, a brief flicker of regret crossing his eyes. His mouth opened slightly, and for a split second, I thought he was going to apologize. But the next moment, his arrogant, defensive mask slipped right back on. He pressed his lips together, looking down at me with disdain. “You brought this on yourself. You know Chloe is a topic you never touch, yet you deliberately brought her up to provoke me.” With that, he turned on his heel and slammed the door. Feeling the fiery pain on my face, I finally lost my battle with tears. To say it didn’t hurt would be a lie. I had desperately wanted a brother’s love. I remembered my childhood neighbor, Lily, who had an older brother. Whenever it rained, he would carry her on his back. When they walked, he would hold her hand. And whenever their parents scolded her, he would stand in front of her, shielding her. Every time Mrs. Miller beat me, I would pray to God that I had a brother who would protect me and stand by my side. But when I finally got a brother, Julian coldly told me that he only had one sister, and her name was Chloe. That was when I realized not all brothers were created equal. Still, I had tried so hard to please him. When Chloe “died,” Julian was so devastated he couldn’t eat or drink. I stayed up all night to bake his favorite chicken pot pie, only for him to smash the dish onto the floor. “You will never replace Chloe! Don’t you dare touch her recipes! Only Chloe is allowed to make this for me!” The scalding hot gravy had splattered all over my arms, breaking out into painful blisters. Tears had welled up in my eyes from the pain, but Julian had only sneered. “It was just a little splash. Stop acting so dramatic. Who are you trying to manipulate?” Back then, I had lowered my gaze, telling myself that he was just grieving the sister he had lived with for over a decade. I shouldn’t hold a grudge. As long as I kept treating him well, he would accept me eventually. But it was all just a foolish delusion. Some hearts are made of ice, and no amount of warmth can melt them. *** In my sleep, I felt a soft sigh brush against my ear. Then, a cool, soothing ointment was gently spread across my bruised cheek. “Why do you have to provoke Julian? You know his temper is always terrible around the anniversary.” “You’ve behaved yourself for five years. Why start trouble now?” I opened my eyes to see Tristan sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a tube of bruise cream. He clearly already knew what had happened. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you back to the Sterling mansion. I’ll make Julian apologize to you,” Tristan said. Looking at his hypocritical face, I let out a dry laugh. “Why are you pretending to be the good guy now? You’re no better than Julian.” “If you loved Chloe so much, why didn’t you jump off the cliff with her?” “Everyone says she died because of me, so why did you marry her supposed murderer? Oh, right. Because of the Vance Group’s profits. It was a business merger.” “Since you married me but treat me like garbage, making me live in her shadow every day, you’re actually worse than Julian.” “Do you have any idea how disgusting it is to watch you perform your tragic, loyal lover act in front of me?” Tristan stared at me, frozen, as if he were seeing me for the very first time. I provoked him further. “Do you want to know why Julian slapped me?” I leaned closer, my eyes flashing with absolute coldness. “I told him that Chloe deserved to die. I said she got what she deserved, that her death was…” “Clara!” Tristan growled, his hand wrapping around my throat, squeezing tightly until my face turned red from lack of oxygen. See? Chloe was their sacred goddess. No one could mention her, no one could criticize her, or they would turn into monsters. He suppressed his rage, his eyes wild. “What is wrong with you today? You already have everything that belonged to Chloe. Why can’t you just be satisfied? What more do you want before you stop acting up?” *Acting up.* A slight display of self-respect was considered “acting up” to him. Maybe because he saw how much I was struggling to breathe, he finally let go of my neck. I gasped for air, coughing violently, then looked at him with a mocking grin. “What do I want? What if I told you I want you to say you love me?” There was still time. If even one of them said they loved me, I could live. Tristan pressed his lips into a hard line, his eyes turning cold and dismissive. His silence spoke volumes. I burst out laughing, tears streaming down my face. His silence meant: *You stole Chloe’s husband. How dare you have the audacity to beg for my heart?* “Tristan, I really want to see the look on your face when you find out…” I cut myself off, staring at him with deep amusement. No, it would be much more fun if he discovered the truth himself. “Find out what?” he demanded. *Find out that Chloe isn’t dead. Find out why she staged her suicide.* But I didn’t say a word.

Ever since Chloe “died,” I had lived under a mountain of guilt. I kept asking myself if my return had truly driven an innocent girl to commit suicide. During my darkest moments, when I was on the verge of taking my own life, the System had intervened. “Chloe Sterling is not dead,” it told me. “She ran away with the school’s bad boy, Derrick Cooper, because she was pregnant with his baby.” She was too terrified of ruining her perfect image in front of her parents, so she didn’t dare confess the truth. But she also wanted to punish me. So, she played a brilliant final hand. She staged her suicide on the day of my welcoming gala, escaping with her lover while leaving a note that ruined my life. I truly couldn’t wait to see the look on Tristan’s face when he realized his beloved “pure” white angel had actually run away to play house with a deadbeat. “Clara.” Maybe the mockery on my face was too obvious. Tristan’s expression darkened. “You don’t deserve to speak her name.” “Every single day you draw breath, you must remember that you are the reason she is dead. You owe her for the rest of your life.” Tristan left, his face like stone. Just like Julian, this was the first time he had ever seen me fight back. That night, the excruciating pain returned. My bones felt like they were being pierced by thousands of tiny needles. I curled into a ball on the bed, unable to sleep a single wink. At dawn, I threw up a mouthful of blood. I asked the System how much longer I had. The System, which had spent five years with me, sounded like it was on the verge of tears. “Less than two weeks.” “Clara, don’t be sad.” I wasn’t sad. Before I came back to this family, I was filled with hope and excitement for the future. But these past five years of being treated like a murderer, of enduring their cold glares, had completely drained every ounce of hope I had. I actually regretted my choice. I should have just stayed dead in my previous life. I opened my bedroom door, and Tristan was standing there, his hand raised as if he were about to knock. It was rare for him to look for me so early. “Let’s get a divorce,” I said flatly. Tristan’s lips went pale, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What kind of game are you playing now?” “I don’t want to live with you anymore. You don’t love me, so why keep torturing each other?” “Don’t even think about it. You are never leaving me,” he snarled, turning and storming off. Right after he left, Julian arrived. He told me Mom was sick and demanded I come back to the Sterling mansion immediately. As we walked out, Julian looked down at me, his eyes filled with a cruel, smug satisfaction he couldn’t hide. Julian had a reason to be smug. Ever since Chloe’s “death,” our mother had been plagued by severe anxiety and persistent fevers. She was constantly trapped in nightmares, and no doctors could find a physical cause for her fevers. Later, a spiritual medium told the family that this was a sickness of the soul. The only way she could heal was if the person who caused her grief repented. Mom’s grief, of course, was Chloe. In her fever dreams, she would scream Chloe’s name, weeping and apologizing, saying she regretted ever bringing me back. She cried that she had let Chloe down. So, every time Mom fell ill, I was forced to kneel at her bedside, forbidden to stand until her fever broke. Over the past five years, I had lost count of how many times I had knelt there until I fainted from exhaustion. But this time, when I walked into Mom’s bedroom, I stood straight and kept my eyes lowered. I didn’t kneel. Our father, Arthur, glared at me with pure rage. “You ungrateful brat! Why aren’t you on your knees? Your mother gave birth to you! Have you no conscience? How can you stand there and watch her suffer?” I remained silent. My father grew even more furious, raising his hand to strike me. Julian stood by, watching the show with a smirk, mouthing silently: *Apologize to me, and I’ll help you.* I gave Julian a cold look, then voluntarily went down onto my knees. Whatever. I would kneel. The sooner I died, the sooner I could escape this wretched place. I never wanted to see these disgusting people ever again. We were living in the twenty-first century, yet they still believed in spiritual curses. Or maybe they didn’t believe it at all—they just wanted a scapegoat, and I was the perfect target. In the past, even when I was punished, they would at least feed me. But this time, Julian only sent up three bowls of plain watery congee a day. I wasn’t some weak-willed girl who thrived on scraps. I knew this was Julian’s doing. In the past, he would sneak in at night and let me rest. But this time, Julian stayed in the room, watching me through the night. His arrogant eyes seemed to say: *Beg me, and I’ll let you rest.* I didn’t give him a single glance. My knees had already gone completely numb. I closed my eyes and forced myself to think of happy memories. But no matter how hard I searched through both of my lifetimes, I couldn’t find a single moment of genuine happiness. From the moment I could remember, Mrs. Miller had treated me like a pack mule. Whenever I wasn’t at school, I had endless chores. And whenever she missed her real daughter, she would lock me in a room and starve me. After returning to my biological family, I thought I would finally be happy. Instead, I had plunged into an even darker abyss. I had spent five years tiptoeing around them, begging for just a tiny drop of love. But they couldn’t even give me that. I couldn’t win over a single one of them. I felt like an absolute failure. Sometimes, I wondered if I was just fundamentally unlovable.

Tristan actually showed up, but he only gave me a cold, passing glance before going to talk to Julian about Mom’s condition. He didn’t offer a single word of concern for me—his wife, who had been kneeling on the hard floor for days. “I told you not to be too soft on her. Look what she’s become. She actually thinks she can replace Chloe,” Julian’s mocking voice drifted over. Tristan let out a sharp, sarcastic laugh. “She could never replace Chloe. She isn’t even in the same league.” Julian purposely raised his voice so I could hear every word. “She spent years shamelessly begging for our attention. She even tried to bake chicken pot pies for me just like Chloe did. It was pathetic.” “She’s like a thief who stole Chloe’s family and Chloe’s husband. Now that a few years have passed, she’s finally showing her true, ugly colors.” So, my years of careful devotion were nothing but “shameless begging” and “disgusting” to them. This was supposed to be my family. How was I a thief? And marrying Tristan was never my choice. If he hated it so much, he could have refused. Why take his anger out on me? “Look at her, pretending to be pale and victimized. Who is she trying to fool?” Since falling ill, my entire body had been racked with constant pain. I was completely exhausted, yet they actually believed I was faking it. Tristan sneered, walking over and looking down at me. “I’ll give you one last chance. Apologize to me.” I slowly lifted my head, my face devoid of emotion. “Please, sign the divorce papers as soon as possible.” Tristan’s face contorted with rage. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me up roughly. “Clara, stop throwing these tantrums! Why do you think you got to marry me in the first place? If Chloe were still here, do you think I would have ever looked at you?” He squeezed my wrist tightly, his voice dripping with venom. “You better take those words back right—” Before he could finish his threat, my body reached its absolute limit. I coughed violently, and a dark spray of blood splattered onto his expensive shoes. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor. “Clara! What’s wrong with you?” “Clara! Why are you spitting blood?” “Stop pretending!” How hilarious. I actually heard a note of panic in their voices. My body felt weightless as someone lifted me into their arms. Almost at the exact same moment, frantic, ecstatic shouting echoed from the hallway outside. “Chloe is back! Miss Chloe isn’t dead! She’s alive!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “447622”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I was known as the ultimate black sheep among CEOs in our industry. While other companies treated interns like disposable, cheap labor, I did the exact opposite. I fought against the entire board’s objections. I made sure every single intern received one-on-one mentorship, paid training, housing stipends, and even fully reimbursed Uber rides for late-night overtime. The internship program was running incredibly well. But just as I was planning to expand it, a heavily edited audio clip went viral on TikTok and YouTube. They took my words completely out of context, spinning a narrative that I was only “fattening up” the interns now so I could ruthlessly exploit them later. Overnight, public opinion turned against me. The very people who had benefited from my generosity became my fiercest enemies. The office walls were spray-painted with the words: CAPITALIST LEECH. Standing in the main conference room, I opened a file that no one in the company expected me to have. And every single one of them was left utterly speechless.

Sandra Miller, our CFO, placed the Internship Program Budget Proposal on my desk. “Elena, are you absolutely sure you don’t want to reconsider this?” I didn’t say a word. Sandra flipped the budget sheet to the very last page. “For this batch alone—thirty-seven interns—between mentor fees, base salaries, housing stipends, and health insurance, we’re looking at nearly eight hundred thousand dollars. Elena, that’s practically our entire net profit from last year.” I finally looked up. “Sandra, our net profit last year was 1.2 million. I already cut this budget down from one million to eight hundred thousand. Some of our executives are mentoring on a volunteer basis, and we’re housing them in the company’s vacant corporate apartments. I’ve done the math. The actual out-of-pocket cost isn’t that high.” Sandra sighed, pushing the document a little closer to me. “Elena, I’m not saying it’s a bad program. I’m saying our current cash flow can’t support this level of charity.” Charity. Hearing that word sent a sharp, familiar ache through my chest. It brought me right back to my senior year of college. The December wind cut through the streets like a knife. I remembered wearing a thin, cheap black blazer and tight heels that blistered my feet, walking from office to office just to hand out my resume. An HR manager at one company had literally shredded my resume right in front of my face. He told me, “Ivy League Master’s grads are lining up for unpaid gigs. You’re a state school grad, and you actually expect a paycheck?” So, the moment I became my own boss, the very first thing I wanted to change was the toxic internship culture. Sandra didn’t argue. She knew that this eight hundred thousand dollars wasn’t just a budget line. It was my personal crusade. She hesitated. “The board… they might not back you on this.” I swept the file into my desk drawer. “I’ll handle the board. The internship program officially launches next Monday.”

At 9:00 AM on Monday, all thirty-seven interns gathered in the main conference room. I stood before them. “Welcome to the company. Starting today, you will begin a three-month paid internship. During this time, each of you will be paired with a dedicated mentor for one-on-one guidance. Your wages will be set at 120% of the industry average. We will also provide housing stipends, health insurance, and fully reimbursed Uber rides if you ever have to work late.” A sudden wave of whispers washed over the room. Some stared at me with wide eyes. Others turned to exchange skeptical glances. A few were quietly muttering that it sounded too good to be true. I waited a few seconds, then smiled. “I only have one requirement: learn fast, and work hard.” The thirty-seven interns were split across seven departments. I had handpicked every single mentor myself. At first, the mentors struggled to adapt. Marcus Gallagher, our Tech Director, complained privately to Sandra. “It takes me three years to properly train a junior developer. Now she wants them ready in three months? Elena is living in a fantasy world.” But it didn’t take long for Marcus to change his tune. By the second week, the intern assigned to him had independently coded an entire software module for their weekly review. The code was so clean that Marcus thought he was looking at a senior developer’s work. At the next weekly management meeting, Marcus couldn’t hide the pride in his voice. “The kid is a natural. I’ve only been coaching him for two weeks, and his coding habits are already cleaner than some of my mid-level developers.” The other departments soon reported similar successes. The marketing intern pitched a campaign strategy that the client approved on the spot. The design intern created a poster series that won first place in our internal design competition. The product intern compiled a user research report with data analysis so sharp it looked professional. I kept track of all these small victories in a little leather notebook. Every night before bed, I would flip through the pages. The program was succeeding beyond my wildest dreams. I decided it was time to scale up the initiative. But that was exactly when the trap snapped shut.

I was woken up by my phone vibrating violently. The sky was barely gray. I swiped the screen. Forty-seven missed calls. My Snapchat and messages were absolutely blowing up. I tapped on a voice note sent by Jane Vance, our HR Director. “Elena, have you looked at YouTube or TikTok? Someone leaked a voice recording of you from our executive meeting. It’s trending everywhere. PR is trying to contain it, but it’s spreading too fast!” I opened TikTok. The video already had over thirty million views. It was just an audio track set against a backdrop of heavily edited, unflattering security footage photos of me from the conference room. They made me look like an angry, greedy tyrant. I pressed play. My voice came through the speaker: “…The interns? It’s fine if we invest heavily in them early on. We feed them, we get them nice and fat, and once they sign those full-time contracts, we can handle them however we want. You have to understand—the more a person feels you’ve invested in them, the harder it is for them to ever leave you.” The clip cut off abruptly. The comments section was an absolute toxic wasteland. [So this is Elena Sterling, the supposedly ‘ethical’ CEO? Wow. The mask slipped fast.] [I knew those housing stipends and paid training were too good to be true. There’s no such thing as a free lunch in capitalism.] [Ex-employee here. I always felt something was off. No boss is that nice to interns unless they’re raising pigs for slaughter.] [Boost this, guys! Make this corporate vampire famous!] I threw my phone face down on the bed and closed my eyes. The recording was real. But it had been sliced to pieces. The first part of my original statement was actually me screaming at a department manager who had been treating interns like modern-day slaves. I had chewed him out for ten straight minutes. The second part was me explaining how we could retain top talent by actually investing in their career growth and showing them we cared, creating a mutual bond of trust. But in the edited version, my anger at the bad manager was gone. My explanation was gone. Only those few sentences remained, twisted into a malicious confession. It was a brilliantly executed hit job. I got up to wash my face. As I was brushing my teeth, Jane called again. “Elena, we traced the leak. The audio came from inside the office. The security cameras and the audio recording systems are on separate networks. Only the eight people in that executive meeting had access to the raw files…” With the toothbrush still in my mouth, I interrupted her. “I know.” “You know?” “The circle of people who could get that audio is tiny. Don’t panic, Jane. I’ll see you at the office.” I hung up and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a bit messy, my eyes were slightly bloodshot, but my expression was perfectly calm. I whispered to my reflection: Elena, just because you want to do something good doesn’t mean everyone wants to see you succeed.

The moment I stepped into the office lobby, the young receptionist looked at me, her eyes brimming with tears. She stood up as if to say something, but choked on her words and sat back down. I gave her a gentle nod and kept walking toward the elevator. When the elevator doors slid open on our floor, I was greeted by three-foot-high, dripping red letters spray-painted across the white hallway wall: CORPORATE VAMPIRE. The paint was still wet, running down the wall like blood. I stood there, staring at those words for ten long seconds. I heard footsteps behind me. It was Jane and Zach Carter, our Legal Counsel. Zach spoke first. “Elena, I’ve already contacted the police. This is vandalism and clear defamation—” “Don’t worry about the police yet,” I cut in. “Just take photos for evidence and leave it. If we make a huge scene now, the internet will just say we’re trying to intimidate people and cover our tracks.” Jane bit her lip. “But Elena… three interns already submitted their resignations this morning. And two of our full-time staff just quit, too.” “Which interns?” “Lily Evans, Tyler Brooks, and Chloe Martinez.” I paused. I remembered all three of them. Lily was from last year’s batch. She had performed beautifully and had transitioned to a full-time role just three months ago. Tyler was one of our newest hires. And Chloe… she was also from last year’s batch, and she was already leading her own sub-projects. I really hadn’t expected Chloe to quit. I sighed. “Hold their resignation letters for now. Follow standard company protocol—thirty days’ notice for transition. Don’t make it hard on them, but don’t give them special treatment either. Just go by the book.” I walked into my private office, closed the door, and opened my laptop. The internet was in an absolute frenzy. It wasn’t just the audio clip anymore. People were digging up fake “dirt” about me. There were posts claiming I withheld overtime pay, used the internship program to scam the government for tax write-offs, and even rumors that I was sleeping with one of the female interns. Every claim came with “evidence.” But when I looked closely, it was all fabricated. The post about withheld overtime pay showed a pay stub that didn’t even have our official company logo, and the formatting was completely wrong. But in the court of public opinion, facts didn’t matter. When a hate mob gets going, truth is always the first casualty. I leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes for a moment, and made a decision. I picked up the desk phone and dialed HR. “Jane, prep the main conference room. 10:00 AM. I want an all-hands meeting. Everyone, including the interns.” “Elena, some people online are talking about protesting outside our building. Should we—” “No need. Just run business as usual.” I hung up, opened my bottom desk drawer, and pulled out a thick, heavy manila envelope. It was stuffed to the brim. I didn’t open it. I just placed it on the desk. I had been compiling this file for three months. I had planned to reveal it at our annual company gala as a massive surprise for everyone. But it looked like the surprise was coming early.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “447607”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I had a beautiful daughter. She had just turned eighteen. Her closet was filled with all kinds of beautiful dresses, but because of a little monster, she would never have the chance to wear them again. The little monster stood there, flipping me the middle finger with a smug grin. “Your daughter’s life was cheap anyway. She got what she deserved! We’re minors. Our age is a get-out-of-jail-free card.” Marcus went mad. He grabbed a kitchen knife, wanting to trade his life for that bastard’s. But I held him back with all my strength. “One death is too easy for him. Both he and his mother must go to hell!” I had an eighteen-year-old daughter named Chloe. Her name meant blooming and full of life. She loved wearing dresses. Her closet was packed with them, all bought by Marcus and me. Marcus was the ultimate girl-dad, spoiling her every chance he got. But all of that was gone now. Chloe lay in the dirt, her torn white dress covered in mud and blood. She was frozen in time, forever eighteen. We realized Chloe was missing an hour after school ended. Marcus had came home holding a giant princess plushie, excited to surprise her. He waited and waited, but when she didn’t show up, he got anxious and told me to look for her. I hadn’t wanted Chloe to go out in the first place. The weather was terrible, and the sky was pitch black. “Mom, I promise I’ll be back in half an hour. I’ll definitely beat Dad home!” “I already made plans with Bella. You don’t want your daughter to be a liar, do you?” She had looked up at me with her innocent face, shaking my arm and begging. “No lies. The weather is bad today. Just play for a bit and come straight back!” I couldn’t say no to her. Chloe was smart. Whenever she pouted, Marcus and I would melt instantly. But an hour passed, and Chloe still wasn’t home. I decided to check their “secret hideout.” I knew the place well. It was a wooded area right next to the community park. Chloe and Bella had decorated it like a fairytale forest, pretending they were princesses living there. But when I arrived, no one was there. The decorations they had carefully set up were trashed, looking like they had been maliciously vandalized. “Chloe! Chloe!” I screamed her name, but there was only silence. Panic set in. I ran around the subdivision, shouting Chloe’s name over and over. By the time dusk fell, I went to Bella’s house. I knocked on the door for a long time before it finally opened. “Bella came home early. She was exhausted and already fell asleep,” Sarah, Bella’s mom, said. She only opened the door a crack, blocking my view. Before I could ask more, she hurriedly shut the door in my face. I completely lost it. Chloe never wandered off on her own, and she would never disappear for this long. I called 911, but the dispatcher told me they couldn’t do anything since she hadn’t been missing for 24 hours. Marcus arrived shortly after, and we rushed to the security office to check the cameras. The security guard, who usually bragged about “safety first,” acted like we were making a big deal out of nothing. He reluctantly logged into the system and slowly scrolled through the footage. “Sir, please, can you speed it up?” I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. Beside me, Marcus clenched his fists, his jaw tight. “What’s the rush? A girl that age doesn’t just vanish. She probably went to a party or something.” The guard’s careless attitude snapped my last nerve. Just as I was about to scream at him, Marcus grabbed my arm. “Sir, you’re a parent too. I’m sure you understand how we feel,” Marcus said, forcing a polite smile as he pulled two hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and slipped them into the guard’s pocket. “Ah, right. Yeah, parent to parent, I get it. Let’s see… is this the right time?” The guard’s eyes flickered. He smoothly pocketed the cash and quickly set the timestamp to 6:00 PM. On the screen, Chloe was skipping along, holding Bella’s hand as they entered the woods. Twenty minutes later, Bella ran out of the woods alone, looking terrified. The guard pulled up the cameras from all four surrounding angles, but Chloe was nowhere to be seen. A wave of dizziness hit me. I turned to Marcus. “I went to Bella’s house. Her mom said she was asleep and wouldn’t let me in.” Marcus’s voice shook. “Bella knows something. We have to make her talk.”

“I told you, she doesn’t know anything! Stop coming here. My kid has school tomorrow.” Sarah wouldn’t look me in the eye, still refusing to open the door. “Can we just talk to Bella for a second? I promise we won’t scare her. Just a few questions,” I begged, tears streaming down my face. “Just leave. She’s asleep. We don’t know anything.” She bit her lip, and right before slamming the door, she muttered, “It’s about to pour. You should ask someone who actually knows those woods.” Someone who knows those woods? “Mrs. Higgins!” Marcus said with absolute certainty. If anyone knew every corner of this neighborhood, it wasn’t the security guards or the HOA. It was Mrs. Higgins, the community’s head housekeeper. She knew every piece of gossip and every resident’s business. She knew the park area like the back of her hand. By the time we found Mrs. Higgins, Chloe had been missing for three hours. “Near the park woods?” Mrs. Higgins looked surprised. “There are only trees there. The cameras should have caught her leaving.” Could a living, breathing person just vanish? My legs gave out, and I could barely breathe. “Wait…” Mrs. Higgins suddenly gasped. “Are you sure you searched everywhere? Even the places off-camera?” When we nodded, she hesitated, her voice trembling. “There is one place… follow me.” Mrs. Higgins led us back into the dark woods. I stared at a massive, ancient oak tree with a hollow trunk. My mind went blank. Marcus, panting heavily, brushed aside the thick branches blocking the hollow. He froze. His eyes went wide, and then… “Ah! No! No!” He let out a guttural, agonizing scream, like a dying beast. He clawed at his hair, stumbling backward until he collapsed into the mud. “Marcus, it’s not Chloe, right? Tell me it’s not her,” I forced a laugh, trying to stay sane. But Marcus didn’t answer. He tried to stand up several times but kept falling. Finally, he crawled on his hands and knees toward the tree, sobbing hysterically. “Chloe… baby… Chloe…” It was my daughter. I stumbled forward and fell to my knees, paralyzed by the horror in front of me. My daughter, my sweet Chloe, was curled up in the hollow of the tree. Her torn white dress was covered in dirt. Her face, usually so full of smiles, was pale and stiff. Her fingernails were caked with dirt, showing how desperately she had clawed at the ground in fear. Her pink cartoon underwear was dragged down to her ankles… “Baby… Chloe… Mom is here. Let me hold you…” But the police officers who had just arrived dragged me back. They said they had to preserve the crime scene. They forced Marcus and me into separate rooms at the station to calm us down. But even though the scene was secured, it started to pour that night. The rain washed away almost everything. I couldn’t understand. Who would do this to my baby? Marcus and I were peaceful people. We never fought with our neighbors. I even bought food for the neighborhood stray cats. Chloe was a good girl. She only had a few close friends and never got into trouble. Her friend. Bella! I went back to Bella’s house, this time accompanied by the detectives. When Sarah opened the door, a flash of pity crossed her eyes, but she quickly hid it. She offered her condolences but insisted Bella came home early and knew nothing. She claimed we were traumatized and accusing an innocent child. Bella herself screamed and hid in her bedroom when she saw me.

The police had a duty to investigate, but they couldn’t force a child to speak without evidence. After a long standoff, I stared at Sarah. “Sarah, you’re a mother too. I know you can understand what I’m going through.” I paused, tears dripping from my chin. “My daughter was only eighteen. Her birthday was in a few days. I raised her with everything I had, and now…” I knew I looked pathetic, my eyes swollen shut, but I forced myself to lock eyes with her. “I’m begging you, help me. What happened? Why did Bella run out of the woods so terrified? Please, help a grieving mother.” Sarah looked away, her eyes darting around. She repeated the same cold line. “I’m sorry, Claire. We really don’t know anything.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Marcus snapped. He lunged forward, grabbing Sarah’s shoulders and shaking her violently. “You know! You damn well know! Tell me who did it! Who!” “You have a daughter too! If this was Bella, would you stay quiet?!” He was completely hysterical. It took two officers to finally restrain him. He thrashed until he passed out from pure exhaustion. The police advised us not to push too hard, warning us that it might backfire. They told us to wait until the rain stopped so they could look for other clues. But once the rain stopped, would there be any clues left? Just when Marcus and I were falling into utter despair, Sarah came to our house voluntarily. Bella stood behind her, crying and bowing to me. “I’m sorry, Claire.” My eyes were too swollen to open properly, but I strained to look at her. “Bella, sweetie, can you tell me what happened that day?” Bella burst into loud, sobbing tears. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It was Tyler! He said if I told anyone, he’d beat me to death! I was so scared. I didn’t want him to hurt me too!” Sarah immediately hugged Bella, dropping to her knees in front of me. “It’s not Bella’s fault. It’s mine! I was so scared of what Tyler would do to my family… but Bella kept asking me when we were going to save Chloe…” After Sarah finished explaining, I took a long, shaky breath. “Sarah, are you willing to let Bella testify?” “We were playing in the woods,” Bella sobbed, “and Tyler came over. He wanted to play ‘house.’ He said he was the dad, and we had to be his wives. He said Chloe’s dress was pretty, so he wanted to ‘play’ with her first. Chloe said it hurt and tried to run, but he beat her. He threw his jacket over her face to stop her from screaming. Then… Chloe stopped moving.” It felt like shattered glass piercing my chest. Every breath tore at my lungs. I listened to Bella’s trembling voice, shaking my head in disbelief. My daughter was only eighteen. She knew nothing of the cruelty of this world, and she was tortured to death. The police arrested Tyler quickly. He was sixteen, but he weighed 180 pounds and stood six feet tall. From behind, he looked like a fully grown man. When he saw us at the station, he shrank back. But a heavy, expensive-looking woman stepped in front of him, looking at us with utter disdain. “Fine, I heard what happened. We’ll pay for the funeral. How about that?” She pulled two thick stacks of hundred-dollar bills from her designer purse and threw them onto the table. To my horror, Marcus laughed. He walked over, picked up the cash, and stepped closer to her. “Twenty thousand? That’s it?” He shook his head. “How about I give you a hundred thousand, and I get to take your son’s life?” Before anyone could react, Marcus slammed the cash into her face, lunged at Tyler, and started hammering his fists into the boy’s face. Marcus was too fast. Within seconds, the officers tackled him to the ground, but Tyler’s nose was already smashed and bleeding. “Ah! You psychopath! Your daughter is already dead, and now you disfigured my son! He was supposed to go to a top private school!” I was shaking with rage. What did she mean, *your daughter is already dead*? Seeing Marcus pinned down, Brenda became even more arrogant. “My son told me everything. Your daughter loved wearing those revealing dresses. Wasn’t she just begging for attention?” “Honestly, she deserved it. She’s lucky it was my son. Otherwise, some homeless crackhead would have gotten to her!” I was speechless with shock.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “447623”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster