Category: English

The day I miscarried and hemorrhaged, my parents rushed to the hospital through heavy rain and got into a car accident on the way. I lay on the operating table and signed their surgery consent forms with blood-stained hands. I couldn’t save the baby. I couldn’t save my parents either. The man whose calls I couldn’t get through posted a celebratory Instagram post. 【Congratulations to Mia’s dog for working hard all night and finally becoming a mother.】 I weakly liked the post, and he immediately sent me a text message. “Unlike it.” I sent him my hospital location. “Come to the hospital. I need to talk to you in person.” “I have something important to do, I can’t make it! Get your parents to go with you for the prenatal checkup. They’re free anyway.” “Your so-called important matter is delivering puppies for her dog?” “How did you turn into such a jealous woman just from being pregnant? You’re even jealous of a dog?” I had no strength left to argue with him. Since he wouldn’t come, he could talk to my lawyer instead.

By the time I finished handling my parents’ funeral arrangements, it was already the next evening. I dragged my exhausted body through the door. The carefully tidied house had become a complete mess. Jason was rummaging through things with his head down, carelessly tossing items onto the floor. Like he was used to it, confident that someone would always clean up after him. Hearing the door, he didn’t even look up, his tone tinged with dissatisfaction. “Where have you been all day on the weekend? I even had to order takeout for lunch.” I froze. So he didn’t come home last night either. These past two years, he’d always been like this. When Mia’s apartment light broke, he could get up in the middle of the night to fix it for her. But he’d forget to lock our door properly, letting a drunk stranger stumble in and giving me nightmares for an entire month. When Mia’s dog was about to give birth, he could refuse to accompany me to my prenatal checkup. But he’d take a week off work to stay with her, even though that was supposed to be the vet’s job. Getting no response, Jason finally looked at me, surprise flooding his eyes. “Your face is so pale. Is the baby giving you trouble again?” I stepped back, avoiding his hand reaching toward my abdomen, my tone flat. “I called you seventy-six times yesterday. Why didn’t you answer?” Jason’s hand hung in midair. He frowned at my words. “Hermione, are you interrogating me?” “Mia and I are childhood friends. Her dog Snowball is different from the other pets in her shop—she’s raised it since it was small. They have a deep bond.” “Snowball was giving birth and Mia was worried sick. I had to help with the delivery. At such a critical moment of life and death, how could I have time to answer your pointless calls?” “It’s just a prenatal checkup. Plenty of pregnant women go by themselves. At worst, you had your parents. They’re free anyway. What difference does it make if I’m not there?” Looking at his self-righteous expression. I really wanted to ask—what about my parents? That car accident was terrible. Dad had no vital signs by the time he reached the hospital. Mom was rushed into surgery for emergency treatment, but her injuries were severe and complex. Jason’s colleague said that only if Jason performed the surgery himself would there be any chance of saving her. He said he was too busy to answer my calls, yet when I liked that Instagram post, he immediately ordered me to unlike it. Afraid Mia might read too much into it. “Are you really just childhood friends?” “But Jason, I saw you kiss her.” At the very restaurant where he’d proposed to me. Even sitting in the exact same seats. In my mental haze, I didn’t see the motorcycle speeding toward me. Although the driver braked in time, the tiny life inside me that was barely three months old was still lost.

Panic flashed through Jason’s usually calm eyes. “Mia was too worried about Snowball, so I took her out to relax. She had a few too many drinks and…” His tone softened slightly. “Alright, let’s not talk about this. Next checkup, I’ll definitely go with you.” Here we go again. Using a lame excuse to brush me off, then offering a consolation prize, as if nothing had happened. But Jason, you’ll never need to accompany me to another prenatal checkup. “No need. Let’s get divorced.” Jason froze, then spoke angrily, humiliated. “Hermione, do all you journalists like to blow things out of proportion? I told you it was an accident. Is this really necessary?” “Besides, you’re just doing odd jobs in the TV station’s logistics department now. You’re almost thirty, pregnant, and other than me, who else would want you?” “I work myself to the bone at the hospital every day for this family, not to come home to your unreasonable tantrums!” He stormed toward the door. As he passed the entrance, he suddenly noticed a document peeking out of my bag. The words “Death Certificate” were clearly visible. Jason turned back, confused. “Who died?” Jason was about to pull it out for a closer look. But his phone suddenly rang. Mia’s helpless, choked voice came through. “Jason, one of the puppies seems to be choking on milk, and I still have customers in the shop. I’m completely overwhelmed.” “It’s not going to die, is it? I’m so scared…” Jason’s face filled with concern. “Don’t cry. I’ll be right there.” With that, he rushed off without looking back. He even forgot to lock his study, which he normally never let me enter. As if possessed, I walked in, only to be stabbed in the eyes by what was under the desk. That year, I was the station’s most promising new reporter, assigned to interview the old director. But the old man was arrogant and turned me away. After several days of working overtime, I had low blood sugar and fainted in the garden. Jason was the one who saved me. He said the old director was stubborn and wouldn’t change his mind once it was made up. I hung my head in disappointment. The next second, an orange candy was pushed into my mouth. Jason winked at me playfully. “But I admire people who work hard, so interview me instead.” Later I learned he was the city’s youngest medical professor. So many people wanted to interview this genius heartthrob of the medical world but couldn’t, yet he made an exception for me alone. That’s how Jason and I became connected. Later, we each got busier and busier. Jason looked at me with difficulty. “Hermione, I know becoming a top reporter is your dream.” “But the elders in our family need someone to care for them. Could you resign? I promise I’ll treat you well for the rest of my life.” And I knew equally well that becoming an outstanding doctor was his dream too. So I compromised. I didn’t resign, but transferred to the relaxed logistics department. At least that way I could stay close to the work I loved. On many sleepless nights, I’d trace my reporter’s badge under the lamp. Every time Jason caught me, he’d feel incredibly guilty and promise over and over that he’d treat me well. But now, that reporter’s badge I treasured so much was being used by him to level a table leg. I used Mia’s birthday to open his safe. On top was a thick kraft paper envelope. Inside were all kinds of photos of the two of them together. Hugging, kissing, walking hand in hand on the beach. There were also receipts for him buying Mia a house, funding her business startup, paying for renovations. Even though the shop lost money every month, he kept subsidizing her.

The words on the envelope’s cover were in Jason’s handwriting. “Forever willing to forge ahead through thorns for your dreams.” I stared at those words for a very long time. My mind flashed through these five years of caring for his parents, doing laundry and cooking, cleaning the house. I thought of the envy and heartache I felt watching my former colleagues full of passion, working overtime preparing interview manuscripts. Suddenly I laughed out loud. So he did know how to protect someone’s dreams after all. I photographed everything and put it back in place, finally making my decision. “Hello, Ms. Kelly. I heard the station is selecting someone to go to Central Asia as a war correspondent, and no one has signed up yet.” “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go.” Kelly paused, then said happily. “Great! I thought it was such a shame when you applied to transfer to logistics. This is a rare opportunity. It might be a bit dangerous, but your resume will be completely different when you return.” “Prepare yourself well then. You’ll be leaving in the next few days.” Hanging up the phone, I started packing. There was nothing left in this house that I cared about. Except for the sweater Mom had knitted for me before she died—I had to take that. She’d knitted me plenty of clothes when I was young, but later I grew up and Mom grew old, her eyesight not what it used to be. I didn’t want her to strain herself, so I told her not to knit anymore. After I got pregnant, I suddenly became very sensitive to cold. Mom secretly knitted me a sweater anyway. Her eyes were red from straining them, but she waved it off casually. “Homemade ones are warmer. I picked out good yarn.” “You care about the child in your belly, and I care about my child too.” I was both touched and heartbroken. I’d never brought myself to wear it. But now, that sweater was gone. Remembering the scene when I came home, I was about to call Jason to ask. But then I saw Mia had posted on Instagram. “Hehe, I just mentioned the babies were cold since they were just born, and someone brought over sweaters~ Thanks on behalf of the babies, Daddy~ Of course, this mommy’s alteration skills aren’t bad either, if I do say so myself.” So Jason had gone to celebrate those puppies’ birth with her. In the picture, they had their heads together, bodies pressed close. Each held three puppies in their arms. And I recognized at a glance. The ‘dog clothes’ those puppies wore were altered from the sweater Mom had knitted for me. When I pushed open the pet shop’s glass door, I happened to catch Jason and Mia eating cake with the same spoon. Jason had severe germophobia. At home, his dishes had to be disinfected and stored separately, and serving utensils had to be used when sharing food. Once, after cleaning the house all day, I was exhausted and parched, so I drank from his cup. He didn’t say anything at the time, but that night, the cup appeared in the trash. Afterward, Jason explained to me that it was an occupational habit from working at the hospital. Turns out it depends on the person. Seeing me, Mia raised an eyebrow and smiled sarcastically. “Hermione’s here? Jason and I have never drawn boundaries since childhood—I hope you don’t mind.” “Jason, what did I tell you? There’s no way she’d divorce you.” “After all, a woman who failed in her career and can only rely on handouts from her husband—without you, how would she support her child and take care of her parents? She followed you all the way here. She’s really clingy.” “Sigh, compared to her, I’m just too thin-skinned. Guess I’ll just have to keep being a strong independent woman~” Jason affectionately pinched her nose. “Fine, you’re the smartest, okay? You’ve been clever since childhood.” Then he looked at me, as if forgiving a child who didn’t know any better.

“Alright, Hermione. Since you came to make peace, I’ll pretend I never heard about the divorce.” “Go home and clean up the house first. These puppies were just born and their condition is unstable. I need to stay with Mia for a few more days to observe them.” Listening to these two people talk, I found it laughable. One being a mistress so righteously. One whitewashing his affair so sanctimoniously. I ignored Jason and smiled sarcastically. “Since Miss Mia is so capable, stealing another woman’s man is one thing, but why did you conspire with my husband to steal my clothes?” “Dare I ask what kind of ‘strong woman’ you are? The mistress kind?” Several female customers who were selecting pet supplies looked at Mia in surprise. “So this handsome guy isn’t your boyfriend? But you were using the same spoon… that’s not very appropriate, is it?” “Yeah, I just complimented you two on being a good match and you didn’t deny it. Turns out he has a wife?” Mia’s face flushed red as she was cornered. Seeing her like this, the women curled their lips in disdain, put down the items they’d already selected, and hurried out. Mia’s eyes reddened as she complained to Jason pitifully. “Jason, is Hermione deliberately here to sabotage my business?” “I just thought that sweater was warm and soft, perfect for the puppies. She’s already spent so much of your money—what clothes doesn’t she have? Why does she have to slander me like this?” “Those were all my regular customers. How will they see me now? Can I even keep doing business?” Jason tenderly wiped her tears, then turned to glare at me angrily. “Hermione, I’m the one who took the clothes. Why are you taking it out on Mia? It’s not like it’s worth that much money. When did you become so petty?” “You’ll gain weight later in your pregnancy anyway and won’t be able to wear it. Just have your mom knit you another one.” “It’s not like it’s made by some international master craftsman. Why are you treating it like it’s so precious?!” Looking at his condescending expression and the disdain in his eyes. I couldn’t help but slap him across the face, roaring. “Yes, what my mother made IS precious! Because she can never knit me clothes again!” “While you two were being all lovey-dovey, and you’d rather accompany her dog through labor than answer my calls for help, my parents died!” Jason’s eyes flew wide open. He instinctively released Mia. “What did you say? How could…” Before he could finish, Mia suddenly shoved me hard. “How dare you hit someone?!” “It’s just a crappy sweater! Who cares? I’ll give it back to you!” She stripped the clothes off the puppies and viciously threw them into a litter box the employee was about to take out. “Saying your parents died—I just saw your uncle and aunt at the supermarket this morning!” “I just can’t stand women like you who use pregnancy to lie and manipulate, making scenes and doing everything possible to control your husband. You’re a parasite, a disgrace to women everywhere!” The litter box hadn’t been cleaned yet. The clumped feces stuck to the sweater, giving off a foul smell. Mom’s love had ultimately been ruined beyond recognition. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know the boss would…” The employee was frightened by my bloodshot eyes, looking completely helpless. Anger and hatred burned my internal organs. I turned toward the instigator and raised my hand high. But before my palm could land on Mia’s face. Jason’s slap struck me. It made a crisp sound in the quiet shop.

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I’m a top-tier Hollywood star, the youngest Oscar-winning actress, and the apple of the eye of the Fletcher family’s billionaire heir. He not only opened a talent agency specifically to manage me alone, but even humbled himself to become my assistant out of love. The entire entertainment industry knows that crossing me means crossing the Fletcher family. However, no one expected that in the latest S-tier production film, my role as the female lead that was already a done deal would be stolen by an unknown D-list actress. People placed bets overnight on how long it would take for Charles Fletcher to blacklist that actress named Nia across the entire internet. But instead, what came was an official announcement from Fletcher Family Media: [Welcome our company’s second signed artist, Nia] [In the future, Miss Nia will walk hand in hand with the Fletcher Group.] The entire industry was shaken, mocking me for falling out of favor, forcing a dignified Oscar winner to play second fiddle to a newcomer. On set, watching Nia’s terrible acting, I coldly gave her a stage slap according to the script, but Nia fell to the ground in tears, accusing me of using my position to settle personal scores. Charles ordered people to pin me to the ground, and had the crew add a hundred slapping scenes for me. By the end, I had been slapped until my right ear went deaf, my face swollen almost beyond recognition.

By the fiftieth scene, my right cheek was swollen high, looking terrifyingly grotesque. Blood kept flowing from my nose and mouth, dripping onto my clothes and the ground. The director’s voice trembled slightly, “Mr. Fletcher, shouldn’t we stop here?” “If we keep going and something happens…” “What’s the rush?” Charles curved his lips, he walked over, slowly crouched in front of me, lifted my chin with his hand, and gently wiped the bloody filth from my face, “Bella, I know you’re angry with me for replacing you as the female lead.” “But now everyone knows that Nia is the second person the Fletcher family wants to promote. You deliberately targeting her on set will make me look bad.” “Be good, apologize to Nia, and this will all be over.” I raised my head with difficulty, looking into Charles’s eyes, “I did nothing wrong.” “That scene just now, I stage-slapped her. I didn’t even touch her.” Nia immediately covered her face and started crying, “Since Miss Bella says it was a stage slap, then it was a stage slap.” “I understand, I’m just a newcomer, Miss Bella is an Oscar winner. I deserve to endure some grievances…” “Charles, please don’t make things difficult for Miss Bella. She’s just being professional, she definitely didn’t mean to target me.” I stared at her tear-stained face, couldn’t help but want to laugh. During the scene earlier, she couldn’t even cry, but now she was acting so convincingly. Charles frowned, “Unrepentant. Do you really think you’re some high and mighty Oscar winner?” His tone turned cold, “I could make the first one, I can make a second one too.” He looked at me, “Nia says you’re professional. Since you’re so professional, give the whole crew a demonstration.” “The remaining fifty scenes, continue.” My breathing caught, my heart felt like it was being squeezed tight. Back when I was still a small-time actress, when I accidentally scraped my skin during wire work, Charles was so distressed, warning the director that if I got hurt again, he’d dismantle the entire set. Now, because of one baseless provocation, he wanted me to endure a full hundred slaps. The slaps fell again, a heavy metallic taste filled my mouth. I looked toward Charles. His expression was indifferent, like he was watching a play that had nothing to do with him. By the eightieth scene, there wasn’t a patch of unmarked skin left on my face. “Baby, still won’t admit your mistake?” Charles looked at me with amusement. I pulled at the corner of my mouth, but said nothing. Charles’s eyes darkened further, “Continue.” At the hundredth scene, Charles called for a stop, and walked up himself. He raised his hand high. That hand had once held mine, wiped away my tears, and traced my features over and over again in the deep of night. “Baby, this last scene is to teach you that I don’t like women who make their own decisions.” The force of his palm struck heavily across my face. My right ear rang with a loud buzz, and then I couldn’t hear anything at all. My consciousness gradually blurred. Someone grabbed my hair and lifted my face. The camera focused on my wretched appearance. Charles’s indifferent voice came through, “Post this video online as my debut gift to Nia.” “What about Miss Bella… should we deal with her?” Charles’s gaze swept over coldly, and the person hurriedly lowered their head. “Stop trying to guess what I’m thinking. Today is just to teach her a lesson, so she doesn’t think she can do whatever she wants just because I spoil her.” “However, Bella will still be the Fletcher family’s only lady.” “Oh, and find the best medicine. I don’t want scars left on that face.” Hearing this, I laughed coldly. Then my consciousness completely fell into darkness.

When I woke up again, I was already lying in bed. My face felt cool, clearly medicine had been applied. I looked around, recognizing this as the luxury apartment Charles had bought for me near the set to make filming more convenient. My phone kept buzzing beside me. As soon as I opened it, messages flooded in like a tidal wave. Number one on trending: [Bella Acts Like a Diva on Set and Gets Taught a Lesson] [Bella Slaps Newcomer] [Nia Breaks Down in Tears on Scene] I clicked on the video. It was the scene where I stage-slapped Nia. Edited to remove the beginning and end, only showing the one second where my hand moved toward her face. Then it cut to me being pinned to the ground, slapped a full hundred times. The caption read: [Oscar winner Bella bullies newcomer on set, gets harshly punished by righteous people] The comment section had already broken twenty thousand. “Serves her right, I’ve heard she has a terrible temper.” “What’s so great about being an Oscar winner? Bullying newcomers is shameful.” “I heard she slept her way to the top. She’s been throwing her weight around, and now she’s hit an iron plate.” “Bully girl, ugly freak, get out of the entertainment industry!” I scrolled through one comment after another. An overwhelming wave of hate comments. Normally, Fletcher family legal would have stepped in by now, but now there was only silence. I smiled self-mockingly. At 3 AM, another trending topic shot to the top. #Fletcher Family Media Supports Nia# I clicked in. It was an official statement from Fletcher Family Media, a still of Nia from the show, with only one line of text: “Pearls should not be covered in dust.” Immediately after, Charles’s personal account liked and reposted this statement. The comment section erupted again. “Oh my god, Mr. Fletcher personally got involved. Has Bella completely fallen out of favor?” “It’s about time she was replaced. I’m sick of looking at Bella’s old face.” “Finally someone has noticed our wonderful Nia!” I smiled bitterly. Pearls covered in dust… When Charles and I were at our best, he withstood enormous pressure from his family, insisting that his company would only sign me. He always stayed by my side. He once held my hand, his eyes determined, “Bella, pearls are never covered in dust. I will definitely take you to the top.” I didn’t disappoint his expectations either. I won three major Best Actress awards in one sweep, made his company incredibly profitable, proving his judgment was right. Now, he used those same words on another woman. Charles, you really are sparing no effort to prove that you’re the one in control of this relationship… Just then, someone pushed the door open. Charles walked in carrying a bowl of hot food, “Bella, you’re awake?” I said nothing. He sat down beside me, coaxing like one would an unreasonable child, “I made you some food. The doctor said you need to take good care of your face. I’ve canceled all your upcoming schedules.” “Be good, open your mouth.” His movements were gentle, looking at me affectionately, as if he were a completely different person from the man who had arrogantly slapped me. Too bad I could smell on him the exact same perfume that Nia wore. I knocked the food out of his hands, “Charles, are you done with your act?” “Don’t touch me with your dirty hands that have touched someone else!” Charles was caught off guard and burned his hand. The smile faded from his face, “Bella, you’re too uptight.” “Haven’t I been with you long enough? Look around the industry—who stays faithful to one woman?” His tone softened as he reached out to touch my face, “Stop being angry. I just think the girl is kind of interesting, just playing around. She’s no threat to you.” Just playing around. Those words were like a knife stabbing deep into my heart. I turned my head away from his hand, “Get out.” Charles’s hand hung in mid-air, his eyes turning cold. “Bella, have I spoiled you too much? Do you really dare to order me around like an assistant?” He stood up, “Fine, I’m giving you a way out and you won’t take it. I’ll wait for you to come crying and begging me later.” Watching Charles’s retreating back, my heart suddenly felt empty, aching faintly. After a long while, I reached up to wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes, took out my phone, and scrolled to a number. The call connected. “Mr. Simon Brandt, I agree to the arranged marriage with you.”

On the other end of the phone, Simon’s cool voice came through, “Miss Bella, you’ve made up your mind?” “Yes, I’ve decided.” “Alright, confirm the time and I’ll come to Los Angeles to pick you up.” Inexplicably, I actually detected a hint of excitement in Simon’s voice. Putting down my phone, my thoughts drifted back three years. I’m the only daughter of the Anthony family in Manhattan, New York. My family arranged a marriage alliance with the Brandt family to help me better inherit the Anthony family in the future. I didn’t want to marry a stranger, even though I knew he was of good character, one of the rare clean-living men in high society circles. I came to Hollywood in Los Angeles alone to break into the entertainment industry. But without my family’s support, I couldn’t move an inch in the entertainment world. I could only do bit parts, playing extras without even any lines. During one audition, I was almost taken advantage of. It was Charles who saved me. He not only helped send the producer who harassed me to prison, but also helped me land the first role of my life, though it was just a supporting role. When Charles decided to personally become my assistant, it shocked the entire industry. Everyone speculated he was just acting on a whim, that he’d get bored and move on. But he persisted for three years. My food, clothing, housing, and transportation were all his responsibility. All endorsements and film contracts were personally selected by him and presented to me. Every time I joined a crew, he would push aside all other matters to stay by my side wholeheartedly. Originally, I planned to finish filming this movie, then come clean to Charles about my identity. But I never expected this to happen… Since I’d decided to go home for the arranged marriage, I decided to withdraw from the entertainment industry. I opened my laptop and typed out my retirement statement. But I hadn’t sent it yet. I wanted to finish filming one last movie before leaving. The redness and swelling on my face hadn’t completely subsided yet. As soon as I stepped onto the set, everyone’s eyes swept over to me. There was mockery, pity, and more than anything, schadenfreude. I lowered my head and quickened my pace toward the makeup room. “Miss Bella.” I stopped. A crew member blocked my way, wearing a professionally polite fake smile. “That makeup room, Mr. Fletcher has instructed that it’s for Miss Nia from now on.” He gestured to the side, “Miss Bella, you can use that one over there.” I followed where he was pointing. Next to a pile of miscellaneous items at the far end, a broken door stood half-open. Inside were dusty prop boxes and discarded light stands. I said nothing in the end and walked in. But I waited a long time. The time for my next scene was approaching, but my makeup artist still hadn’t arrived. I got up to find someone, only to see my makeup artist standing next to Nia, touching up her makeup. I froze. Only then did Nia seem to remember something, covering her mouth as she giggled, “Oops, I forgot to tell Miss Bella.” “Charles gave me your makeup artist too. From now on, she’s my personal makeup artist.” “He said my face is precious and needs the best makeup artist and the best cosmetics.” She tilted her head and glanced to the side. Immediately someone threw several paper boxes at my feet, spilling out cheap foundation and eyeshadow palettes. “Charles also said Miss Bella is getting on in years, so just make do with whatever.” Nia looked at me with eyes full of malice. I looked down at the pile of items. Charles knew I had sensitive skin and could only use specific cosmetics. He used to have people test the ingredients even if I switched brands. I stood up and walked toward the studio. “Miss Bella, you haven’t put on makeup yet!” I didn’t look back, only said coldly, “I’m not doing it.” Immediately people started slandering me. “Acting like such a diva.” “Still being difficult even now. No wonder Charles dumped her.” But Nia’s smile remained unchanged. “It’s fine. Once she sees the new script, she won’t be so arrogant anymore.” I walked into the studio. The next scene was supposed to be between me and the male lead. I calmed myself and went through the script, but the actor playing the male lead never showed up. I was about to find someone to ask when I saw the director walking toward me furiously. “Bella!” He grabbed my hand and dragged me outside. “What are you doing slacking off here? We’ve been calling you forever. Are you deaf?!” “Director, isn’t the next scene supposed to be between me and the male lead?” He waved his hand impatiently, “All those scenes have been cut.” “Your next scene,” “is a drowning scene.”

I stood there stunned. When I was young, I accidentally fell into water and nearly drowned. Ever since, I’ve been terrified of water. Once water rises above my chest, I start having heart palpitations. After Charles learned about this, every contract he signed for me included the same clause: prohibiting any form of drowning scenes. “Is there a mistake?” My voice was tight. “This scene isn’t in my script.” The director rolled his eyes. “This was specially added for you by Miss Nia.” “She said she was worried you’d feel you didn’t have enough scenes and feel unbalanced, so she kindly added some screen time for you.” “Charles knows about it too.” Charles… My heart sank to the bottom. This was the largest indoor pool at the studio. I stood by the pool’s edge, my whole body already soaked through. “Cut!” The director shouted. “No good. Bella, that expression just now was wrong. Too fake. Do it again.” I was pushed into the water again. “Cut! Your struggling is too exaggerated. Who drowns like that? Again.” Pushed down again. Climbed up again. “Cut! Not enough emotion. Your eyes need to show despair!” “Cut! Your body is too stiff. Again.” I hung on the pool’s edge, soaking wet, hair plastered to my face, gasping for breath. “Maybe the pool isn’t deep enough, that’s why Miss Bella can’t make it look real.” Nia tilted her head, suggesting innocently, “Why don’t we switch to the deep end? That way we can capture that desperate feeling of drowning.” My heart dropped. “I’m not going to the deep end!” But no one listened to me. Two hands reached from behind, gripping my arms on either side. I struggled desperately as my body was dragged forward, until below me was an unfathomably deep blackness. Nia walked up behind me. She leaned close to my ear, her voice very low, “Bella, Charles is mine. Go die.” She pushed hard. My body fell backward. In that moment the world flipped before my eyes. Water surged toward me from all directions. My body was sinking. Water pressed against my lungs from every side. I kept my eyes open, watching the water’s surface grow farther and farther away. My consciousness began to scatter. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier, my body lighter and lighter. Just as I was about to close my eyes, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me out of the water. I struggled to open my eyes and saw the person before me. I was dazed. “…Charles.” “Hahahaha did you guys see how she looked just now?” “Like a drowned rat, so funny.” “And she’s supposed to be an Oscar winner? Can’t even do a simple drowning scene.” Nia clung to Charles’s arm, laughing so hard she was bent over. “Charles, look how scared she was. Your idea was so fun.” Charles laughed too. I stared at him blankly, suddenly feeling cold all over. Charles approached me. “See that? Without me promoting you, you’re nothing.” “In this industry, anyone can step on you.” He crouched down, leaning close to my face, his manner intimate. “As long as you admit your mistake, I can act like none of this ever happened. You’ll still be Bella, still the Oscar winner everyone adores.” He was waiting for me to bow my head. Nia also walked over, opening her mouth falsely, “Miss Bella, I’m not trying to break you and Charles up. I’m here to join this family.” “Don’t be hostile toward me.” I lifted my head and spat right in both their faces. Nia screamed. Charles was furious. “Bella, have you lost your mind!” He turned and left with Nia. That evening, the production’s official account posted a statement. “Actress Bella refuses to follow production management, repeatedly acts like a diva, seriously affecting filming progress. After deliberation, the production has decided to immediately terminate cooperation with Bella. All filmed content will be deleted.” Attached was an image of the termination letter from the production, stamped with a red seal. Immediately after, Fletcher Family Media reposted this statement. “Resist problematic artists. No one is above the rules.” I instantly became a pariah everyone wanted to attack. All endorsements and film contracts were terminated. While Nia, stepping on my corpse, gained countless fans and a good reputation. On my phone, I received a text from Charles. [As long as you beg me, I can suppress all the negative public opinion against you.] I knew Charles was forcing my hand. He was betting that without him, I had no way out. I stared at the retirement statement I’d already drafted on the screen. My finger hovered over the send button. 3, 2, 1. I pressed it. Within seconds, the comment count began to skyrocket. One hundred, one thousand, a hundred thousand, ten million…

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After getting pregnant by accident, I dragged my suitcase to the door, ready to run. The moment I opened it, a stream of text floated before my eyes. [Why are you running? If you run, you’re dead!] [Raven Smith has no brain. She’s carrying the only bloodline of the Morrison family and she dares to hide?] [After the male lead Matthias Morrison’s car accident, his fertility was damaged. The child in Raven’s belly is the Morrison family’s only heir.] [Once Raven runs, the child will be taken by Juliet White. Juliet will marry into the Morrison family with a ready-made kid and rise to power through her son.] I froze mid-step. Half a minute later, I kicked my suitcase back into the walk-in closet. Clutching the pregnancy test, I stormed into the top floor of Morrison Corporation. Matthias Morrison was in a meeting. I pushed open the conference room doors and slammed the report in front of him. “Matthias Morrison, I’m pregnant. It’s yours.” The conference room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. Dozens of eyes turned to stare at me. Matthias sat at the head of the table, his black shirt buttoned all the way to the top, his eyes cold and indifferent. Three years ago, a car accident nearly took his life. After he survived, the Morrison family’s private hospital issued a diagnosis. Matthias Morrison would have extreme difficulty having children. The Morrison family had been passing down a single heir for thirteen generations. The old matriarch of the family, Lillian Morrison, was so anxious she consulted every renowned doctor. She even secretly arranged blind dates for him, but he coldly sent them all away. So when I threw out this pregnancy test, the faces of the executives in the room were even more spectacular than mine had been when I first saw those floating words. Matthias picked up the report and looked at it for two seconds. “Miss Raven, please leave.” I choked. “You don’t believe me?” He looked up at me, his gaze utterly devoid of warmth. “What do you want?” That sentence hurt more than a slap to the face. I, Raven Smith, the pampered youngest daughter of the Smith family, had been spoiled and arrogant since childhood. I’d certainly done plenty of outrageous things. Like chasing after Grayson Jones for ten years. Like getting drugged at a party and, trying to make Grayson jealous, accidentally pushing myself onto Matthias Morrison instead. And then, after waking up, crying and cursing him for taking advantage of me. Matthias never explained. He just draped his coat over me and had his driver take me home. Half a month later, I found out I was pregnant. My first reaction was to run. After all, if my parents saw this report, they’d tear apart both the baby’s father and me. But the floating text said if I ran, I would die. The child would be taken by Juliet White. Juliet White was the original novel’s female lead—pure and resilient, gentle and kind. She would become the apple of Matthias Morrison’s eye. And I was just cannon fodder paving the way for them. More text floated by. [Raven, cry now! Cry hard—Matthias responds to softness, not force!] [Don’t back down. She’s the only one who’s ever gotten pregnant with Matthias Morrison’s child.] [Juliet has already been earning favor with Lillian. Wait any longer and you’ll lose both the husband and the child!] I pinched my palm, my eyes reddening. “Matthias Morrison, you sleep with me and then deny it?” Someone in the conference room sucked in a sharp breath. Matthias’s eyes flickered slightly, as if suppressing something. I walked around the table to his side and pressed his hand against my lower abdomen. “You don’t have to believe me… but you need to take care of me first.” Matthias’s fingers stiffened. I looked at him, my heart pounding painfully. His gaze lingered on my face for a long time. “Meeting dismissed.” Everyone immediately lowered their heads and filed out. The door closed. He withdrew his hand and pulled out his phone to dial an internal line. “Send the head of obstetrics and gynecology up here.” I had just started to relax. The conference room door suddenly opened again. A woman in a white dress stood in the doorway, holding a food container. “Matthias, did I come at a bad time?” The floating text exploded instantly. [Juliet White is here!]

Juliet White looked very wholesome. White dress, black hair, soft eyes. Standing next to someone as cold as Matthias Morrison, she really did seem like a ray of light. She saw the pregnancy test in my hand, and her eyelashes trembled. “Miss Raven, are you feeling unwell?” I hid the pregnancy test behind my back, my tone stubborn. “What’s it to you?” Juliet’s face paled. “I’m just concerned.” Matthias asked her, “Who let you come up here?” Juliet bit her lip lightly. “Lillian asked me to bring you soup. The doctor said your stomach hasn’t been well lately.” Matthias’s expression grew even colder. “Put it down and leave.” “Matthias, Lillian also said she wants you to come back to the old mansion tonight.” The text scrolled rapidly. [Here it comes—Lillian is going to set up Juliet and Matthias.] [Juliet saved Lillian’s life. Lillian loves her now.] [If Raven acts up even a little, Matthias will find her annoying.] I immediately moved closer to Matthias. “You can’t go tonight.” Matthias looked down at me. “You think you can control me?” I tilted my face up. “I’m carrying your child. Of course I can control you.” Juliet’s face grew even paler. Matthias looked at me, his expression calm, as if examining a contract full of loopholes. “Raven Smith, you’d better understand the consequences of lying to me.” I was afraid of him. But I was more afraid of dying. I straightened my back, trying to appear righteous. “Then check now.” Ten minutes later, the head of obstetrics and gynecology, Dr. Riley, arrived at the CEO’s lounge with equipment and nurses. Blood draw, urine test, ultrasound. I lay on the bed, my skirt covering my lower abdomen, my palms covered in sweat. Matthias stood by the window, his back straight. Juliet didn’t leave. She stood outside the door, looking in through the half-open entrance. The examination ended. Dr. Riley held the test results, her expression very complicated. “Mr. Morrison, Miss Raven is indeed pregnant.” Matthias froze. Dr. Riley continued, “Based on the gestational age, the timing also matches up.” I immediately sat up. “Did you hear that?” But Matthias kept staring at Dr. Riley. “Can the father be confirmed?” Dr. Riley looked uncomfortable under his gaze. “Invasive testing isn’t recommended in early pregnancy, but non-invasive prenatal paternity testing can be arranged later.” The smile on my face stiffened. “Matthias Morrison, you still doubt me?” He said nothing. Juliet suddenly walked in, her voice as gentle as water. “Miss Raven, don’t be angry. Matthias’s physical condition is special. It’s normal for him to be cautious.” I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Juliet stumbled back half a step, her eyes instantly reddening. Matthias frowned. My heart ached. I immediately threw off the blanket and got out of bed. “Fine. I’m leaving.” My foot had just touched the floor when my lower abdomen suddenly cramped. I bent over in pain. Matthias stepped forward in one stride, scooping me up, his voice urgent. “Doctor!” I gripped his collar, tears rolling down uncontrollably. “Don’t touch me.” Matthias’s body stiffened. The next second, the sound of a cane tapping on the floor came from outside. Lillian had arrived. As soon as she entered, her eyes went straight to my belly. “Who’s pregnant with my Morrison family’s child?”

Lillian was in her seventies, with a full head of silver hair and a very straight spine. Matthias was holding me. I wanted to get down. He tightened his arms. “Don’t move.” Lillian walked quickly to the bedside. “How many weeks?” Dr. Riley immediately answered, “Around six weeks.” Lillian’s hands trembled. “Really pregnant?” Dr. Riley nodded. Lillian’s eyes suddenly reddened. Juliet supported her, saying softly, “Lillian, don’t get excited yet. The child’s paternity still needs to be confirmed.” The joy on Lillian’s face froze. She looked at Matthias. Matthias placed me back on the bed and pulled a thin blanket over my legs. “It’s early pregnancy. Risky tests can’t be done.” My heart gave a small jolt. The man who had just doubted me was now protecting me. Lillian frowned. “Matthias, this concerns the Morrison family bloodline.” Matthias’s voice was cold and low. “Her body concerns a human life.” The room fell silent. The text drifted slowly by. [Matthias is protecting her now. Juliet is panicking.] [In the original novel, Lillian trained Juliet as her grandson’s wife. Now Raven has barged in pregnant.] [Raven, don’t get cocky. The Morrison family branch members are about to fight for inheritance rights.] Lillian sat down beside my bed and held my hand. “Raven, what do you want to eat? Where do you want to live? The old mansion has dedicated nutritionists and doctors.” I was about to say whatever. But Juliet spoke first. “The old mansion is quiet, suitable for pregnancy. I can keep Miss Raven company. I actually studied nursing.” I sneered. “You keep me company?” Juliet nodded. “I’m afraid you won’t be comfortable alone.” I looked at Matthias. “I’m not going to the old mansion.” Lillian’s expression soured. She asked why. My eyes reddened, my voice immediately softening. “I’m scared.” “Scared of what?” I pointed at Juliet. “Scared of her.” Juliet’s face stiffened. Lillian was also stunned. I lowered my head and touched my lower abdomen. “As soon as she came in, she talked about confirming the child’s paternity. Then she wanted me to go to the old mansion. What if I fall asleep and something happens to the baby?” Juliet hurriedly explained, “Miss Raven, you’ve misunderstood me.” I shrank into Matthias’s embrace. “See? She’s glaring at me again.” Juliet: “…” Matthias looked down at me, a hint of amusement seeming to flash in his eyes before he quickly suppressed it. Lillian looked at Juliet, her expression cooling somewhat. “Juliet, you should go back first.” Juliet’s lips turned pale. “Lillian.” “Go back.” Juliet left carrying the food container. As soon as the door closed, Lillian immediately changed her expression, gripping my hand. “Raven, you can live wherever you want.” I looked at Matthias. “I want to live at his place.” Matthias’s brow furrowed slightly. Lillian immediately nodded. “Fine, live at his place.” Matthias said coldly, “I didn’t agree.” Lillian tapped her cane heavily. “You shut up.” I almost laughed out loud. Text floated by. [Step one of rising to power through her son: Success.] [Too bad the Smith family hasn’t made their move yet.] The next second, my phone rang. My mom’s name appeared on the screen.

I didn’t dare answer. Matthias glanced at me. “Afraid of your family?” I spoke stubbornly. “Who’s afraid?” The phone stopped for two seconds, then rang again. This time it was my dad. If I didn’t answer, the Smith family would storm straight to Morrison Corporation. I took a deep breath and pressed answer. My mom’s voice was shrill and terrifying. “Raven Smith, where are you?” I glanced at Matthias. “Shopping.” “Shopping all the way up to the Morrison Corporation top floor?” My scalp tingled. Did Grayson Jones snitch… Sure enough, my mom’s next words confirmed it. “Grayson said you went to find Matthias Morrison with a pregnancy test.” I held the phone away from my ear. She continued yelling, “You’re pregnant?” Lillian’s ears were sharper than anyone’s. She immediately leaned in. I closed my eyes. “Yes.” Silence on the other end of the line for three seconds. My mom started crying. “Have you lost your mind? How old are you? What’s going on between you and Matthias Morrison?” Before I could speak, Matthias took the phone. “Mrs. Smith, I will take responsibility.” My mom on the other end went quiet. Then my dad’s voice came through. “Matthias Morrison, let Raven come home.” Matthias looked at me. I immediately shook my head. He said into the phone, “She’s not in a condition to travel right now.” My dad laughed coldly. “You have no right to keep my daughter.” Matthias’s expression was indifferent. “If she wants to leave, I won’t stop her.” I immediately grabbed his sleeve. “I’m not leaving.” The sound of a glass shattering came from the other end. My mom’s voice shook with anger. “Raven Smith, you just wait.” The call ended. I buried my face in the blanket. I was done for. Lillian patted my hand. “Don’t be afraid. The Morrison family will protect you.” I looked at her wearily. “You wanted me to go to the old mansion and verify the child just a moment ago.” Lillian was rendered speechless. Matthias cleared his throat lightly. “Come back to my place first.” I knew he lived in a luxury home. But when the car drove into the exclusive villa district, I couldn’t help but gasp. My mood improved instantly. “Matthias Morrison, your place is actually pretty suitable for pregnancy.” He loosened his tie. “The master bedroom is yours.” I sat on the sofa holding a cushion. “Where will you sleep?” “Guest room.” I frowned. “If you’re too far away, what do I do if I get hungry in the middle of the night?” Matthias looked at me. “Where do you want me to sleep?” I pointed at the master bedroom’s king-size bed. “The bed is very big.” His eyes darkened. “Raven Smith, don’t provoke me.” I immediately shut my mouth. That night, I woke up hungry and padded barefoot to the kitchen looking for food. The refrigerator was full of premium ingredients. I didn’t know how to cook any of them. I dug out a box of strawberries and had just bitten into one when Matthias’s voice came from behind me. “Why aren’t you wearing shoes?” I was so startled the strawberry fell to the floor. He walked over, lifted me onto the kitchen island, and knelt down to wipe my feet. His movements were very gentle. I looked at his lowered brows and eyes, my heartbeat going out of control for a moment. Text suddenly appeared. [Friendly reminder: Grayson Jones is downstairs.] [He brought the Smith family with him.] The doorbell rang.

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The first time Sophia Reed met Damien Cross was in the filthiest clinic in Riverside City. She knelt on the floor, clutching the hospital payment slip. Her mother’s kidney failure had reached its final stage. Dialysis cost thirty thousand a month. She had two hundred dollars left. The clinic owner, an old man in a dusty gray suit, slid a contract across to her. “Sign it, and your mother will be transferred to a private hospital. I’ll cover everything.” The contract read: Three years as Damien Cross’s personal caretaker. “Just a caretaker?” Sophia asked. The old man smiled. “You’ll take care of everything for him. Including his needs in bed.” The first time Sophia Reed met Damien Cross was in the filthiest clinic in Riverside City. She knelt on the floor, clutching the hospital payment slip in her hand. Her mother’s kidney failure had reached its final stage. Dialysis cost thirty thousand dollars a month. And in her pocket, she only had two hundred dollars left. The owner of the clinic was named Cross. A man in his sixties wearing a dusty gray suit. He looked at Sophia and slid a contract across to her. “Sign it, and your mother will be transferred to a private hospital immediately. I’ll cover all the expenses.” Sophia took the contract. Her fingers trembled. The contract read: Voluntary agreement to serve as Damien’s personal caretaker for a term of three years. “Just a caretaker?” She looked up and asked. Mr. Cross smiled. “Not just a caretaker. My son has a special condition. You’ll need to take care of everything for him.” “Everything?” “Yes. You’ll take care of everything for him. Including his needs in bed.” Sophia’s face went deathly pale. She understood exactly what those four words meant. Mr. Cross sighed. “My son’s name is Damien Cross. When he was twenty-two, someone poisoned him. The toxins haven’t been completely cleared from his body, and they flare up once every seven days.” “When they do, he’s in excruciating pain, loses control of himself, and needs someone to help him through it.” “I used to hire girls from outside, but he’s become increasingly resistant to that.” “I need someone fixed, clean, and able to keep her mouth shut.” Sophia’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the contract. “Why me?” “Because you’re clean. I’ve investigated you. You’ve never been in a relationship, your mother is your only living relative, and you desperately need money.” Mr. Cross’s gaze was cold. “And you’re beautiful. He’ll like you.” Sophia closed her eyes. In her mind, she saw her mother lying in a hospital bed, tubes running everywhere through her body. She stayed silent for a long time, then finally signed her name. …… Six months later, Damien sat on the living room sofa while Sophia knelt beside his leg, changing his bandages. He had a knife wound on his thigh from last night’s gang fight. Sophia’s movements were gentle, afraid of hurting him. But Damien still frowned and kicked her shoulder. Sophia fell backward from the kick, her forehead hitting the corner of the coffee table. A large bump immediately swelled up. She didn’t make a sound. She got up and continued changing his bandages. “Does it hurt?” She asked softly. Damien glanced at her but said nothing. In the past six months, he’d never really looked at her properly. In his eyes, Sophia was just a tool Mr. Cross had bought with money. A talking sex doll. But Sophia didn’t think of it that way. She remembered that rainy night three months ago. The toxins in Damien’s body had flared up. He curled up on the floor in agony, drenched in cold sweat. She followed the method Mr. Cross had taught her and helped him through it. Afterward, Damien held her and called out a name. “Claire.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck and cried like a child. Sophia held him and gently patted his back. In that moment, she felt needed. Even though the name he called was someone else’s. From that day on, Sophia secretly began to fall for this man. She would tie his necktie for him before he went out. She would make him hot sobering soup when he came home drunk. She memorized all his little habits. Like how he preferred his steak medium-rare, drank his Americano, and hated rainy days. She thought that if she was good enough, one day he would finally see her. But she didn’t know. The woman named Claire was about to come back. …… Damien was on the phone when Sophia was in the kitchen cooking his steak. “Claire’s back?” His voice came from the living room, carrying an excitement she’d never heard before. Sophia’s spatula paused mid-air. “Where are you? I’ll come right away.” Damien hung up and headed straight for the door. Sophia rushed out, still holding the freshly cooked steak. “Where are you going?” Damien didn’t look back. “None of your business.” The door slammed shut. Sophia stood there, looking at the still-steaming steak in her hands. She suddenly felt her eyes sting. Just then, her phone buzzed. It was a message from the Cross family’s private doctor. “Miss Reed, your pregnancy test results are in. You’re two weeks pregnant. I recommend you avoid excessive physical strain in the coming period.” Sophia stared at the message. Her hand trembled. She was pregnant. She hadn’t had a chance to tell Damien yet. And Damien had already left to find another woman. She leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to a crouch. Tears fell onto the floor without a sound. She heard something inside her heart crack open.

Damien didn’t come home all night. Sophia sat on the living room sofa, waiting from eight in the evening until three in the morning. She called him seven times. All went to voicemail. On the eighth call, someone finally picked up. But it wasn’t Damien. “Hello?” It was a woman’s voice. Soft and pleasant. “Are you looking for Damien? He’s in the shower.” Sophia’s throat felt like someone had wrapped a hand around it. “Who are you…?” “I’m Claire Bennett. You’re Sophia, right? Damien told me about you.” The woman’s voice carried a smile. “Thank you for taking care of him all this time. Now that I’m back, I won’t trouble you anymore.” The call ended. Sophia stared at her phone screen showing “Call Ended.” She suddenly felt so cold. Cold down to her bones. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and sat on the sofa all night. The next morning, Damien came home. A woman stood beside him. She wore a white dress, her long hair flowing over her shoulders. When she smiled, two shallow dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth. This was Claire Bennett. Sophia had seen her photo in Damien’s wallet before. She was even more beautiful in person, more gentle. “Sophia, this is Claire.” Damien’s tone was casual, like he was introducing an ordinary friend. But Sophia saw the tenderness in his eyes. The kind of tenderness she’d never seen in the past six months. “Claire just got back from abroad. She’ll be staying with us for a while.” Sophia opened her mouth, but before she could speak, she heard Claire ask: “Damien, is she your housekeeper?” Damien paused. “Something like that.” Those words stabbed into Sophia’s heart like a knife. She stood in the kitchen doorway, still holding the porridge she’d just finished making. She’d gotten up early to make it for Damien, worried his stomach would hurt after drinking last night. Now she felt like a complete joke. “I’ll go upstairs and tidy the room.” Sophia kept her head down and turned toward the stairs. She heard Claire laughing behind her. “Damien, this housekeeper is quite diligent.” He didn’t contradict her. Sophia bit her lip so hard her nails dug crescents into her palms, drawing blood. She didn’t cry. Her tears had long since dried up.

On Claire’s first day moving in, she took over Sophia’s room. “Damien, I like this room. The sunlight is wonderful.” Claire pointed at Sophia’s room, smiling innocently. Damien glanced at it. Sophia’s room had the best natural light in the entire villa. Mr. Cross had specifically arranged it because she was anemic and needed more sun exposure. “Fine, you can have this one.” Damien nodded, then turned to Sophia. “You move to the storage room on the first floor.” Sophia froze. The first-floor storage room didn’t even have a window. It could barely fit a cot. “I…” She wanted to say she was pregnant and couldn’t live in a place like that. But before the words left her mouth, Claire wrapped her arm around Damien’s. “You’re so good to me, Damien.” Damien looked down at her, a smile on his lips. “As long as you’re happy.” Sophia watched the two of them being intimate and swallowed back everything she wanted to say. She moved her belongings to the first-floor storage room by herself. The storage room was crammed with cleaning supplies and smelled of mildew. She sat on the cot, hand resting on her flat stomach. “I’m sorry. Mommy can’t give you a comfortable place right now.” She whispered. That evening, Damien sat in the living room watching TV with Claire. Sophia prepared dinner in the kitchen. She made many dishes, all Damien’s favorites. When the food was brought to the table, Claire frowned. “Damien, I can’t eat spicy food.” Sophia’s hand paused. Three of the dishes on the table were spicy. Because Damien liked spicy food. “It’s fine. Have her remake them.” Damien pushed the three plates aside. “Sophia, take away the spicy ones and make them again.” Sophia stood there, still wearing her apron. She looked at Damien. The man’s gaze was fixed on Claire. He didn’t even glance at her. “Okay.” She said quietly. She took the three dishes back to the kitchen and started over. The smell of oil made her nauseous. But she held it in. Midway through, she snuck to the bathroom and dry-heaved a few times. No one noticed. When the new dishes were served, Claire took a bite and smiled with satisfaction. “Mm, this tastes much better.” “Then eat more.” Damien served her food with his chopsticks. Sophia stood to the side, watching her husband serve food to his old flame. She suddenly felt so tired. A bone-deep exhaustion. That night, Damien slept in the guest room. Because Claire was afraid to sleep alone at night and wanted him to keep her company. Sophia lay alone on the cot in the storage room, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep all night. She started counting down in her mind. Twelve more days until the contract expired.

The next day, Damien took Claire to the gang’s annual gala. The gala was held at Riverside City’s most luxurious hotel, and all the high-ranking members attended. By custom, Damien should have brought his woman. But he brought Claire. Sophia learned about it from Marcus. Marcus was Damien’s driver and the only person in the Cross household she could talk to. “Sophia, don’t overthink it. Damien just…” Marcus tried to comfort her, but halfway through, even he couldn’t continue. Sophia shook her head. “It’s fine.” She no longer felt hurt. Or rather, she’d been hurt so much she’d gone numb. Three days later, Claire demanded that Sophia hand-wash her underwear. Sophia didn’t refuse. She took Claire’s underwear to the laundry room and scrubbed each piece by hand. The door suddenly swung open behind her. Startled, she turned around and met a pair of cold eyes. Damien leaned against the doorframe, a cigar between his fingers. Through the curling smoke, she couldn’t make out his expression. “Marcus told me you’re pregnant?” Sophia’s hand trembled. She hadn’t wanted Damien to know. At least not yet. She clutched the underwear tighter and nodded. “Yes. Two weeks.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” The man’s voice was heavy. “I was going to wait until after the gala, when things calmed down, and we could…” “Get rid of it.” Sophia froze in place. She jerked her head up, thinking she’d misheard. “What did you say?” “I said, get rid of the baby.” Damien’s tone was flat, like he was discussing something trivial. “But why… It’s your child…” “Claire’s depression is severe. She can’t handle stress.” Damien exhaled a stream of smoke. “If she finds out you’re pregnant, she’ll have a breakdown. You can get pregnant again later. It’s not like this is your only chance.” Sophia felt her blood flowing backward. She opened her mouth but couldn’t speak a single word. So her child, in Damien’s eyes, was something that could be discarded at any time. All because Claire couldn’t handle stress. “I made an appointment with a doctor for you. Tomorrow morning at nine.” Damien turned to leave. “Damien.” Sophia called out to him. Her voice was hoarse. “Let me ask you one question.” “Go ahead.” “In these past six months, have you ever, even for a single day, liked me?” Damien’s footsteps stopped. He didn’t turn around. “My heart only has room for one person.” He pushed open the door and walked out. In the empty laundry room, Sophia suddenly laughed. She touched her flat stomach. Her eyes burned and swelled. “I’m sorry.” She whispered. Then she lowered her head and continued scrubbing the underwear in her hands. Her movements were slow and careful. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, falling on her pale face. Her eyes were dry. Not a single tear fell.

Seven days until the contract expired. Sophia didn’t go to the hospital. She went about her routine as usual. Washing clothes, cooking, cleaning. She just spoke less. Damien didn’t bring up the abortion again. Perhaps he thought Sophia wouldn’t dare disobey his orders. These past few days, Damien spent every day with Claire. He took her to see the night view by the river, went shopping with her, accompanied her to art exhibitions she liked. He never did these things with Sophia. Sophia remembered once gathering the courage to ask Damien if he could take her to a movie. Damien hadn’t even looked up. “I’m busy.” He said he was busy. But now he had plenty of time to spend with another woman. Sophia looked at the photos Claire posted on social media and deleted them one by one. Claire posted new photos. In them, Damien had his arm around her waist. The two of them were kissing against a sunset backdrop by the ocean. The caption read: The best kind of love is when no matter how long you’re apart, you’re still the same to me. Posted thirteen minutes ago. Sophia turned off her phone screen and tossed it on the sofa. She suddenly felt nauseous. She didn’t know if it was morning sickness or if the last bit of hope inside her had finally rotted away. Just then, the living room door swung open. Claire walked in wearing high heels, arms laden with shopping bags from luxury brands. “Sophia, come help me with these.” Sophia walked over and took the bags from her. Claire removed her sunglasses and looked her up and down. “I heard you’re pregnant?” Sophia’s movements paused. “None of your business.” Claire laughed. “Do you know what Damien told me yesterday?” She leaned close to Sophia’s ear and lowered her voice. “He said he’s just waiting for you to have the baby so you can pack your things and get out of the Cross house.” Sophia’s pupils contracted sharply. Claire smiled and stepped back. “So don’t think that just because you’re pregnant, you can hold onto him.” “In his eyes, you’re just a tool.” “A tool that can bear children.” Sophia stood there, still holding Claire’s shopping bags. She said nothing. After a long while, she finally spoke softly. “Are you done?” Claire raised an eyebrow. “I’m done.” “Then move.” Sophia walked past her carrying the bags. Her movements were calm. So calm it was as if every word Claire said hadn’t hurt her at all. But only she knew. Her palms had four bloody crescent marks from her nails. …… That evening, Damien came home. He’d been drinking heavily. The smell of alcohol clung to him. Sophia helped him remove his coat and hung it on the rack. “Did you go to the hospital today?” Damien leaned against the sofa, eyes closed, and asked. “No.” Sophia’s voice was calm. Damien opened his eyes and frowned at her. “Why aren’t you listening?” Sophia didn’t answer that question. Instead, she asked one of her own. “Damien, if I were to leave, would you miss me at all?” Damien froze. He looked at Sophia. The woman’s face was haggard, heavy dark circles under her eyes, lips chapped, her hair just carelessly pulled into a ponytail. She looked nothing like the girl from six months ago. The one who’d knelt in that back-alley clinic with defiant eyes. He stayed silent for a long time. “Where would you go?” He didn’t answer her question. He asked one instead. Sophia suddenly smiled. She understood. “The bath is ready. Go wash up.” She turned and went into the bathroom. Damien stared at her back, feeling something wasn’t right. But he’d drunk too much. His mind was fuzzy and he couldn’t figure it out. He leaned back on the sofa and soon fell asleep. Sophia came out of the bathroom and draped a blanket over him. She crouched beside the sofa, looking at Damien’s sleeping face. She reached out and gently traced his eyebrows. Her touch was light, as if afraid of waking him. “Damien.” She called his name softly. “I know you never cared.” “But I really, really liked you.” “Liked you so much that I lost myself completely.” Her eyes finally reddened. But she didn’t cry out loud. She forced the tears back, stood up, and returned to her storage room. She picked up her phone and dialed a number. “Mr. Cross, I’ve made up my mind.” There was a moment of silence on the other end. “You really want to leave?” “Yes.” Sophia’s voice was calm. “The contract expires in seven days.” “After seven days, I’ll have nothing to do with the Cross family ever again.”

The next morning, Sophia was jolted awake by severe abdominal pain. She opened her eyes. The sheets beneath her were stained red. She froze completely. Fear washed over her like a tidal wave. “The baby…” She braced herself and crawled off the cot, stumbling toward the door. In the living room, Damien and Claire were eating breakfast. Claire wore Damien’s white dress shirt, laughing cheerfully. “Damien, can you take me shopping later? I want to buy…” Her words cut off when she saw Sophia stumble out of the storage room. Sophia’s pants were soaked with blood. It ran down her thighs. Claire screamed. “Ah!” Damien shot to his feet. The coffee cup in his hand fell to the floor and shattered. “Sophia?!” Sophia clutched her stomach, her face white as a sheet. “Hospital… please… take me to the hospital…” Her voice trembled. Damien rushed over and swept her into his arms. The woman in his arms was impossibly light, like a bundle of bones. Only then did he realize how much weight Sophia had lost. “Marcus! Get the car! Now!” Marcus ran in from outside and froze at the sight. “Damien, the car’s right outside!” Damien carried Sophia out. Claire chased after him. “Damien! Where are you going? You promised you’d stay with me!” Damien’s steps faltered. He looked back at Claire, then down at the blood-soaked Sophia in his arms. Sophia’s consciousness was already fading. She clung desperately to his collar, her nails digging into the fabric. “The baby… save the baby…” Her voice was barely a whisper. Then her eyes closed. Her hand went limp and fell to her side. Damien felt something violently wrench his heart. He didn’t hesitate any longer. He got in the car with Sophia. “Drive! Now!” Marcus floored the gas pedal. The car shot forward like an arrow. Damien looked down at the woman in his arms and wiped the tears from her face with his thumb. Only then did he realize his own hands were shaking. “Sophia, don’t fall asleep. Don’t sleep, you hear me?” His voice was hoarse. But Sophia didn’t respond. She lay in Damien’s arms, her face white as paper. When the car hit a speed bump, it jolted. Sophia’s hand slipped from her body, and something rolled from her palm. Damien looked down. It was a ring. A cheap silver ring with worn-down patterns. It was the one he’d carelessly thrown in the trash three months ago. Sophia had secretly retrieved it. Damien stared at the ring. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He picked up the ring and gripped it tightly in his fist.

The emergency room light stayed on all night. Damien sat in a hallway chair, completely still. His white shirt was still stained with Sophia’s blood, now dried to a dark brown. Marcus stood nearby, not daring to breathe too loudly or say a word. Near dawn, the doctor emerged. Damien shot to his feet. “How is she?” The doctor removed his mask. His expression was complicated. “We saved her, but the baby didn’t make it. Her body was in terrible condition. Severe anemia combined with malnutrition. It’s a miracle she lasted this long.” Damien stood frozen. “And…” The doctor added another statement. “She appears to have had a previous cesarean section. The incision placement was wrong. It looks like she went through it without anesthesia. There’s permanent damage to her rectus abdominis muscles. They’ll never fully recover.” Damien’s mind went blank with a buzzing sound. “Without anesthesia?” Marcus spoke quietly from the side. “Damien, Mr. Cross mentioned before that when Sophia was giving birth, you were at an art exhibition with Miss Bennett.” “We called you over twenty times. You didn’t answer once.” Damien completely froze. He opened his mouth but couldn’t speak. The day Sophia gave birth. He was with Claire. She was in the delivery room, shaking from pain, nearly dying on the operating table. And he was at an art exhibition, explaining painting schools to another woman. He remembered now. He remembered coming back to the hospital that day. Sophia was alone in the hospital bed. Not a single family member by her side. When she saw him enter, she smiled. “The baby is healthy.” That was all she said. Damien had nodded, glanced at the baby, and then left. He didn’t even ask if she was in pain. Didn’t ask why her lips were completely bitten raw. He asked nothing. Because at that time, his mind was full of whether Claire was happy that day. Damien’s body swayed. He leaned against the wall and slowly sank down. He buried his face in his palms. “Sophia…” His voice leaked through his fingers, trembling with suppression. Marcus looked at his boss, not daring to say a word. He’d never seen Damien like this. The man who commanded fear throughout Riverside’s underworld, who made swift and decisive judgments. Now he was curled up in a hospital hallway corner like a trapped beast with its spine ripped out.

When Sophia woke up, she smelled disinfectant. White ceiling, white sheets, white curtains. The sunlight was blinding. She squinted. The pain in her abdomen reminded her of what she’d lost. She touched her flat stomach. Her eyes immediately burned. But she didn’t cry. What good would crying do? The baby wasn’t coming back. She turned her face to the side, looking at the bare tree branches outside the window. The window was cracked open slightly. Cold wind poured in, making the curtains sway gently. She heard footsteps outside. Damien pushed the door open and walked in. He looked terrible. Dark circles under his eyes, blue stubble on his chin. He approached the bed and reached out to touch her forehead. Sophia turned her head away. Damien’s hand froze mid-air. After a long moment, he withdrew it. “About the baby… I’m very sorry.” His voice was heavy. “I know.” Sophia’s voice was calm. Damien looked at her, feeling a tightness in his chest. He’d rather she yell at him, hit him, throw things, cry hysterically. But she did none of that. She just lay in the hospital bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, as if her soul had already left her body. “When you’re better, we’ll start over.” Damien spoke. Sophia slowly turned her head and looked into his eyes. “Start over?” She laughed. That laugh made Damien’s heart contract painfully. “Damien.” She called his name, her voice soft, as if using every bit of strength she had left. “My baby is gone.” Damien shut his mouth. He stood there like a wooden post nailed to the floor. After Sophia said those words, she closed her eyes. A single tear rolled from the corner of her eye, silently falling onto the white pillow and spreading into a small wet spot.

Three days later, Sophia was discharged from the hospital. She returned to the Cross villa and immediately began packing her things. Actually, there wasn’t much to pack. She had very little. A few old clothes, a pair of canvas shoes she’d worn for two years, and the silver ring she’d retrieved from the trash. She hesitated, then left the ring on the nightstand. Claire leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a victorious smile on her lips. “Finally seeing sense? You should have left ages ago. What’s the point of staying at the Cross house? You’re just a housekeeper.” Sophia ignored her and continued packing. Claire spoke again. “Oh, by the way, I know about the contract you signed with Damien. Basically just using you as a tool, right? Now that he’s tired of playing, it’s time for a replacement.” Sophia’s movements stopped. She slowly straightened and turned to look at Claire. “Claire.” “Yes?” “Do you really like Damien that much?” Claire raised an eyebrow. “Of course.” “Then do you know why he broke up with you back then?” Claire’s smile stiffened. “What are you talking about?” Sophia looked at her coolly. “He didn’t break up with you because you went abroad.” “It was because you slept with his best friend.” Claire’s expression changed instantly. “You’re talking nonsense!” “Whether I’m talking nonsense or not, go ask Damien.” Sophia’s tone remained calm, as if discussing ancient history that had nothing to do with her. “You think he loves you that much? He’s only in pain from being betrayed, so he idealized you into a perfect phantom.” “He doesn’t love you. He loves the Claire Bennett in his imagination.”” Sophia zipped up her suitcase. The sound was especially clear in the quiet room. “I’m giving Damien to you. I wish you both happiness.” She dragged her suitcase and walked past Claire. When she reached the door, she paused. She didn’t turn back. “Oh, and when you two get married, remember to send me an invitation.” Her voice was as light as a breeze. “I won’t be coming.” Then she pushed open the door and walked out. In the living room, Damien stood there. He watched her drag her suitcase. His chest felt like someone had punched it hard. “Sophia.” He called her name. Sophia didn’t stop. As she passed by him, Damien reached out and grabbed her arm. “Don’t go.” His voice was hoarse. Sophia looked down at his hand gripping her arm, then raised her head to meet his eyes. “Damien, the contract has expired.” She pried his fingers open one by one. After all these years, she finally saw something indescribable in Damien’s face. Panic.

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Ethan’s mistress killed my brother. But he pushed a settlement agreement in front of me. “Stella has depression. She can’t handle prison.” “Sign it. Your grandmother’s heart surgery will proceed as planned. Don’t sign, and that heart goes to someone else immediately.” We loved each other for ten years, and now he’s using my grandmother’s life to buy his mistress’s freedom. I signed. Later, Grandma died anyway. Because Stella went to the hospital and told her personally. “I’m the one who ran over your grandson. Oh, and your granddaughter’s husband? He’s mine now too.” Grandma couldn’t catch her breath. Resuscitation failed. I rushed into the Sinclair mansion with a knife. Before I could even reach Stella, Ethan slapped me across the face. “What the hell is wrong with you!” That night, I jumped from a yacht into the deep sea. Cold seawater flooded my lungs. I didn’t struggle. I thought that was the end. Then Adrian Yale saved me. “Some fools will regret losing you.” He knelt on one knee. “And I’ve waited three years for you. Give me a chance, will you?”

Vivian POV My brother Derek’s body was still cold in the morgue, while his killer laughed openly in court. “Vivian, sign this settlement agreement and this case ends here.” A deep, cold male voice sounded in my ear. I stared at the man before me. He was the all-powerful tycoon of this city, and also my husband of three years in a secret marriage. Ethan Sinclair. At this moment, he stood beside the defendant’s seat, his gold-rimmed glasses reflecting cold light as he pushed a document toward me. “Ethan, have you lost your mind?” I trembled all over. “Stella was street racing and ran a red light. The surveillance caught everything! Derek was only nineteen. He was thrown over thirty feet! And now you want me to sign a settlement?” Ethan frowned slightly, his tone impatient. “The surveillance has been destroyed. No one can prove Stella was driving. Vivian, stop making a scene. Stella has depression. She can’t handle imprisonment.” “She has depression, so my brother deserved to die?!” I stood up, my nails digging deep into my palms. I couldn’t understand. Three years ago, Ethan loved me to the bone. If I casually mentioned wanting to see snow, he’d cancel a billion-dollar merger and charter a private jet to take me to Switzerland. When I injured my wrist while painting, this powerful CEO would humbly apply warm compresses and massage it for me every day. To marry me, an orphan with no background, he convinced all his relatives and even took a beating for it. But ever since six months ago, when his childhood friend Stella returned from abroad, everything changed. He said Stella once saved his life, and he owed her an enormous debt. So he could indulge Stella’s arrogance, and now, he was even using my brother’s life to cover for Stella! “Vivian, my patience has limits.” Ethan looked at me coldly, his eyes devoid of warmth. “Your grandmother is still lying in the ICU. Her heart transplant surgery is scheduled for tomorrow. As long as you sign, the surgery proceeds as planned. But if you refuse…” He paused, his voice cruel. “That heart will immediately go to someone else.” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, my mind going blank. “You’re threatening me with Grandma’s life?” I cried. “Ethan, are you even human!” “I only care about results.” Ethan remained unmoved. “You have one minute. Sign or don’t sign?” The courtroom fell deathly silent. Stella sat in the defendant’s seat, provocatively curling her lips at me. Looking at Ethan’s familiar yet strange face, my heart felt like it was being ground in a meat grinder. I had no way out. My brother was already dead. I couldn’t lose Grandma too. With trembling hands, I picked up the pen and signed my name on the settlement agreement. Every stroke felt like it was cutting my flesh. “Satisfied now?” I slammed the pen onto the table. Ethan collected the documents, handed them to his lawyer, and said indifferently. “That’s better. Go see your grandmother at the hospital. I’ve already paid for the surgery.” Then he turned and walked toward Stella, removing his designer suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders, his voice sickeningly gentle. “It’s over. I’m taking you home.” I collapsed powerlessly into the chair, watching their intertwined figures leave, tears falling silently onto my hands. Ethan, you’ve personally killed the last trace of my love for you.

Vivian POV After visiting Grandma at the hospital, I pushed open the door to the villa. In the foyer, there was an extra pair of women’s high heels. In the living room, Stella was lounging on the sofa in my silk pajamas, casually drinking coffee. “What are you doing here? Get out!” My voice was cold. Stella put down her coffee cup, smiling cheerfully. “Ethan said I was traumatized and needed someone to take care of me, so he told me to move in. What’s wrong, Vivian? Don’t you understand yet? It’s time for you to give up your position as Mrs. Sinclair.” “As long as I don’t sign divorce papers, you’re nothing but a homewrecker who can’t show her face.” I walked over and snatched the cup from her hand. It was a mug Ethan had handmade for me, with our initials carved on the bottom. Stella’s eyes flashed. She suddenly cried out, falling backward and sweeping the nearby floor vase down with her. A loud crash. Shards flew everywhere. “What happened?” The door burst open and Ethan strode in. “Ethan…” Stella sat on the floor, pale-faced, clutching her wrist with tears barely contained. “I just wanted some water. Vivian might be in a bad mood and pushed me… I don’t blame her. After all, with Derek’s situation…” “Vivian!” Ethan cut her off sharply, striding over to scoop Stella into his arms. He turned to glare at me. “What’s wrong with you? Haven’t you caused enough trouble in court?” I looked at his anxious expression and found it absurd. “I pushed her? Ethan, there are cameras here. Check them yourself!” “Enough!” Ethan wouldn’t listen. “Stella’s health is already fragile. Do you have to push her to death before you’re satisfied?” Just then, Stella clutched her chest, her face turning deathly pale as she fainted. “Stella!” Ethan’s expression changed dramatically. He immediately carried her out to the car. Half an hour later, at the private hospital. The doctor came out holding a report, his expression urgent. “Mr. Sinclair, Stella fainted from severe anemia. Combined with her blood clotting disorder, she urgently needs a transfusion. But she has RH negative blood, and our blood bank is critically low. Getting blood from other hospitals will take at least two hours. She can’t wait that long!” Ethan’s head snapped around, his gaze piercing straight at me. I instinctively took a step back. My blood type was compatible. Ethan knew. “Take hers.” Ethan pointed at me, his tone utterly flat, as if discussing an object. “Ethan, have you lost your mind? I haven’t rested properly in days. Drawing blood could kill me!” I looked at him in disbelief. “It won’t kill you.” Ethan grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the blood draw room. “Stella got sick saving my life. You owe her. Today you must repay it!” “I don’t owe her anything! Who’s going to repay my brother’s life?!” I struggled desperately, but couldn’t match a man’s strength. I was forcibly strapped to the blood draw chair. The cold needle pierced my vein. Bright red blood flowed through the tube. I looked at Ethan’s cold profile, a chill spreading from my heart through my entire body. They drew a full 400cc. My vision darkened repeatedly, cold sweat covering me. When the nurse removed the needle, I didn’t even have the strength to stand. I slumped to the floor. Ethan didn’t even glance at me. He took the blood bag and strode toward the emergency room. I leaned against the cold wall, watching his anxious retreating figure, and laughed. Ethan, what is your heart made of?

Vivian POV I recovered on the hospital corridor bench for a full two hours before I could barely stand. I didn’t return to the villa. Instead, I took a cab to my art studio. In three days, my solo exhibition, which I’d been preparing for three years, would open. This was my dream as an illustrator, the result of countless sleepless nights. Pushing open the studio door, the scene before me left me frozen. The floor was covered with torn sketches, paint splattered everywhere. Several large-scale oil paintings, my main pieces, had been slashed to ribbons with a knife. Stella stood there with several socialite friends, holding box cutters, smiling at me. “Oh my, Vivian’s here.” Stella tossed aside her knife and dusted off her hands. “Sorry about that. My hand slipped earlier and I damaged a few of your paintings. But don’t worry, Ethan will compensate you.” “Stella!” I rushed forward and grabbed her collar. “You psycho! Can you even afford to compensate?!” These were three years of my heart and soul! Every brushstroke contained my spirit! “Let go! You’re hurting me!” Stella struggled, then her eyes flashed. She suddenly jerked backward, her back slamming hard into an easel. The easel collapsed. Sharp wooden splinters tore through Stella’s arm. Blood gushed out instantly. Stella screamed. The studio door burst open at that exact moment. Ethan strode in. Seeing the scene, his pupils contracted sharply. “Stella!” He rushed over and shoved me aside. Already weakened, I slammed into the wall from his push. Pain exploded in the back of my head. My vision went black. “Ethan, it hurts…” Stella leaned against Ethan, crying with tears streaming down her face. “I just wanted to see Vivian’s paintings, but she suddenly went crazy…” Ethan looked at the blood on Stella’s arm, his expression terrifyingly dark. He turned to look at me, his eyes like poisoned daggers. “Vivian, do you think I’ve been too lenient with you?” I steadied myself against the wall, pointing at the destruction everywhere, my voice shaking. “Ethan, are you blind? She destroyed my exhibition! Destroyed my life’s work!” “They’re just some worthless paintings!” Ethan cut me off coldly. “If Stella’s hand scars, you couldn’t repay it with your life!” Just some worthless paintings. My heart convulsed violently. Once, even my casual sketches, he would carefully frame and hang in his study. He said my paintings were priceless treasures. Now he said they were just worthless paintings. “Someone get in here.” Ethan ordered the bodyguards outside. “Burn everything left here. Since she can’t control herself, she shouldn’t paint anymore.” “Ethan, don’t you dare!” I lunged forward but was held down firmly by the bodyguards. I could only watch helplessly as the bodyguards lit a fire barrel and threw my remaining sketches in one by one. The flames reflected in my eyes, burning away my last tears. I didn’t cry. I didn’t struggle anymore. I just stared at Ethan. Ethan carried Stella and left without looking back. “Vivian, you brought this on yourself.” Only the crackling sound of burning flames remained in the studio. I knelt before the ashes and laughed. Laughed until my heart broke, laughed with tears streaming down my face. The exhibition was completely ruined. I locked myself in my apartment for three days. On the fourth day, Ethan’s assistant knocked on my door and handed me a gilded invitation. “Mr. Sinclair is holding an engagement party for Stella next month. Mr. Sinclair said she really admires your artistic style. He hopes you can hand-paint a ten-foot-tall portrait backdrop for their engagement party.”

Vivian POV I looked at that invitation, finding it utterly absurd. “He wants me to paint an engagement portrait for him and his mistress?” I laughed coldly. “Is his brain damaged, or does he think I have no dignity?” The assistant lowered his head, his tone businesslike. “Mr. Sinclair said if you refuse, your grandmother’s private care room might need to be reassigned.” Grandma again. Ethan always knew how to exploit my weakness. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Fine, I’ll paint it.” For the next two weeks, I stood before the canvas day and night. A ten-foot oil painting required enormous physical strength and wrist endurance. My wrist already had severe tendonitis, and after being forced to give blood, my body was at its limit. Every brushstroke felt like needles stabbing my wrist. Halfway through, Ethan brought Stella to “inspect” the work. Stella looked at the canvas showing the two of them embracing and smiled with satisfaction. “Vivian paints so well. You made Ethan look so handsome. But the color of my dress train here, isn’t it too dark? Could you change it?” My hand holding the brush trembled uncontrollably. Cold sweat soaked my back. I ignored Stella and mechanically mixed colors. The brush slipped from my shaking hand and fell to the floor. Ethan frowned, looking at my trembling hand, annoyance flashing in his eyes. “Vivian, what are you pretending now? It’s just painting. Are you that aggrieved?” I bent down to pick up the brush, my voice eerily calm. “Not aggrieved. Mr. Sinclair pays, I deliver. As it should be.” Ethan snorted coldly. “Better be. The painting must be finished before the engagement party. If you delay Stella’s event, I’ll hold you accountable.” After they left, I collapsed on the floor, clutching my spasming wrist, gasping for breath. I looked at Ethan’s affectionate face on the canvas and suddenly felt nauseous. I grabbed the palette knife nearby, wanting desperately to slash the painting to shreds. But I held back. Grandma was still in the hospital. I couldn’t be impulsive. Two weeks later, the painting was finally complete. My wrist was swollen like a dumpling. I couldn’t even hold utensils. I delivered the painting to Ethan’s assistant, then went to visit Grandma at the hospital. Grandma’s condition had stabilized considerably. She held my hand and asked. “Vivian, why hasn’t Ethan come to see me in so long?” I forced back the bitterness and smiled. “He’s been busy with the company lately. He’ll visit you in a few days.” Walking out of the room, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes wearily. Soon. Once Grandma finished her final checkup, I’d take her and leave this city. Leave Ethan forever. On the day of the engagement party, Ethan rented out the city’s largest seven-star hotel. I didn’t go. Instead, I stayed in my apartment packing. Suddenly, my phone vibrated frantically. It was the hospital calling. “Vivian, your grandmother’s condition suddenly deteriorated. She’s having acute heart failure. She’s being resuscitated now. We need family members here immediately to sign consent forms!” My mind went blank with a buzz. I nearly dropped my phone. “I’m coming right now! Please, you must save her!” I rushed out of the apartment, only to find it was pouring rain outside. I couldn’t get a cab. Ethan had confiscated my car keys days ago, saying I was emotionally unstable and shouldn’t drive. I bit my lip and ran through the rain toward the engagement party hotel. It was the closest place where I could find Ethan. When I burst into the banquet hall, soaking wet, everyone’s eyes turned to me. Ethan wore a white designer suit, gently placing an engagement ring on Stella’s finger. “Ethan!” I rushed over and grabbed his arm, my voice desperate. “Give me the car keys! Grandma’s being resuscitated. I need to get to the hospital!” Ethan looked at my bedraggled appearance, frowning deeply, and shook off my hand. “Vivian, haven’t you made enough of a scene? Do you not realize what day this is?” “I’m begging you, give me the car keys!” I was crying desperately. “Grandma’s dying. I need to see her one last time!” Seeing this, Stella immediately put on a frightened expression and hid in Ethan’s arms. “Ethan, Vivian is so scary…” Ethan’s eyes went completely cold. “Vivian, you’d make up this kind of lie just to ruin my engagement party? Your grandmother was fine yesterday!” “I’m not lying! The hospital just called!” I sobbed desperately. I tried to grab the keys from Ethan’s pocket, but Stella deliberately blocked my way. As we struggled, Stella screamed and fell to the ground. “Stella!” Ethan flew into a rage and kicked me in the shoulder. I was sent flying backward, crashing heavily into a champagne tower. Glass shattered everywhere, shards piercing my palms and back. Blood mixed with rainwater flowed. “Someone!” Ethan looked down at me, his eyes ice-cold. “Lock her in the upstairs storage room! No one lets her out without my permission!” “Ethan! You can’t do this to me! Grandma’s waiting for me!” I struggled desperately, but two bodyguards dragged me away. The storage room door slammed shut. Inside, there were no lights. Complete darkness. I had severe claustrophobia. The darkness swallowed me like a tide. I pounded on the door, crying until my voice was hoarse. “Let me out… please let me out…” Outside came the cheerful music from the banquet hall and guests’ congratulations. I don’t know how long passed before my phone rang. I answered with trembling hands. “Vivian, I’m sorry. We did everything we could. Your grandmother… didn’t make it.” The phone slipped from my hand. I sat paralyzed in the darkness. I didn’t cry. I didn’t shout. My world had completely collapsed.

Vivian POV The storage room door didn’t open until the next morning. I was curled in the corner. The bodyguard looked at my condition with some sympathy. “Mrs. Sinclair, Mr. Sinclair says you can go now.” I said nothing. I stood up shakily and walked out of the hotel step by step. When I reached the hospital, I only saw a body on a gurney covered with a white sheet. I didn’t cry. I just stood there quietly, looking at Grandma’s peaceful face. The attending physician approached, his expression complicated, hesitant to speak. “Vivian, actually… your grandmother’s condition was very stable. But yesterday afternoon, a woman came to her room. We don’t know what she said to her, but her emotions became agitated, which triggered the heart failure…” I raised my head. In my deadened heart, a towering hatred instantly ignited. Stella! It was her! She killed Grandma! I turned and rushed out of the hospital. At a hardware store on the roadside, I bought a fruit knife and went straight to the Sinclair mansion. At the villa, Ethan was having breakfast with Stella. “Stella, go to hell!” I lunged at Stella with the knife. Stella screamed and dodged. Ethan reacted lightning-fast, pulling Stella behind him and catching the blade with his bare hand. Blood instantly flowed between his fingers. “Vivian, have you completely lost your mind?!” Ethan wrenched away the knife and backhanded me with a vicious slap. He used his full strength. I was knocked to the floor, blood trickling from my mouth, half my face instantly swelling. “She killed Grandma!” I pointed at Stella, screaming hoarsely. “She went to the hospital yesterday and provoked Grandma! Ethan, she’s a murderer!” Stella hid behind Ethan, crying and trembling. “I didn’t… Ethan, I was trying on my dress all day yesterday. I never went to the hospital. Is Vivian hallucinating from too much stress?” “You’re still lying!” I struggled to get up. “Enough!” Ethan cut me off sharply, looking at me with disgust and disappointment. “Vivian, I’m grieved about your grandmother’s death too, but you can’t attack people like a rabid dog! Stella was with me all yesterday. How could she go to the hospital?” I froze. Looking at Ethan’s certain expression, I suddenly understood. He was covering for her. To protect Stella, he could even erase Grandma’s death. “Ethan, you disgust me.” I looked at him and said nothing more. “Since you’re clearly unhinged, go cool off in the basement for a few days!” Ethan ordered the bodyguards coldly. “Lock her in the basement. Without my orders, no one feeds her!” The basement. No windows. No light. It was the place I feared most. Ethan knew perfectly well that I was kidnapped and locked in a dark room as a child, leaving me with severe psychological trauma. The bodyguards dragged me into the basement. The iron door slammed shut with a bang. Darkness instantly consumed me. I huddled in the corner, clutching myself tightly. Ethan, I’ve repaid everything I owed you. The darkness of the basement was like an invisible giant hand, strangling my throat. On the first day, I trembled with fear, sweat soaking my clothes. My mind kept flashing back to being kidnapped as a child, and Grandma’s face under the white sheet. On the second day, I developed a high fever. My wounds became infected. I fell into a semi-conscious state.

Vivian POV In extreme pain, I dreamed of Ethan from three years ago. Back then, because I was afraid of the dark, I had to leave a light on when sleeping. Once during a power outage, Ethan ran through the pouring rain across three streets to buy candles to fill the room. He held me in his arms, kissing my forehead over and over. “Don’t be afraid, Vivian. I’m here. I’ll never let you stay in the dark again.” How ridiculous. The person who said he’d never let me stay in the dark personally pushed me into the deepest abyss. On the third day, my fever broke. Fear and despair were exhausted. What remained was only the calm of stagnant water. I felt around in the dark for a sharp stone and carved marks on the wall. Each mark was a piece of my dying love for Ethan. When the iron door opened again, the blinding light made me instinctively close my eyes. Ethan stood in the doorway, looking down at me. I slowly stood up, brushed the dust off myself. My heart was as calm as a pool of dead water. No hate, no love. “Have you calmed down?” Ethan frowned. “I’ve calmed down.” My voice was hoarse but unusually steady. “Ethan, let’s get divorced.” Ethan paused, then sneered. “Divorce? Vivian, what game are you playing now to get my attention? You think threatening me with divorce will make me forgive you for attacking someone with a knife?” I didn’t argue. I simply walked past him and went upstairs. I returned to the master bedroom, took out a divorce agreement I’d drafted long ago, signed my name, and handed it to Ethan who had followed. “I’ll leave with nothing. Just sign it.” Ethan looked at the agreement, his expression instantly darkening. He snatched it away, tore it to shreds, and threw the pieces in my face. “Vivian, get this straight. When this marriage begins and ends is my decision! You want a divorce? Dream on!” I looked at the scattered paper on the floor. I wasn’t angry. I just said calmly. “Whatever you say.” I turned and walked into the bathroom, washing away the blood and grime. When I came out, I picked up my phone and dialed an encrypted number. “Mr. Yale, it’s me.” “The ‘fake death rescue’ service I booked, can we move it up? I don’t want to stay another day.” On the other end, Adrian Yale’s deep voice came through. “Yes. In a month, at Stella’s yacht party. That’s a good opportunity. I’ll arrange everything.” “Thank you.” I hung up and looked at myself in the mirror. Ethan, since you don’t want a divorce, I’ll just have to become a widow. For the following days, I was abnormally quiet. I no longer argued with Stella, no longer questioned Ethan. Like nothing had happened, I ate and slept on schedule every day. “Ethan, Vivian’s been so strange lately.” I heard Stella lean against Ethan, saying coquettishly. “Is she plotting something? Why don’t you make her move out of the master bedroom? I’m scared looking at her.” Ethan frowned. Looking at Stella’s aggrieved expression, he still nodded. That night, Ethan entered the master bedroom and told me coldly. “Move to the guest room. Stella hasn’t been sleeping well lately. The master bedroom mattress suits her better.” I nodded calmly. “Okay.” I opened the closet and only took a few changes of clothes. I didn’t even glance at the expensive jewelry and designer dresses Ethan once gave me. At the door, I stopped, removed my wedding ring, and casually tossed it in the nearby trash can. “What are you doing?!” Ethan rushed over and looked at the diamond ring in the trash, furious. “It’s dirty. Don’t want it anymore.” My tone was flat. Not just the wedding ring. The trash also contained love letters he once wrote me, dried flowers he gave me, even all our photos together. I threw away everything about him. “Vivian!” Ethan grabbed my wrist, his eyes churning with anger and panic. “What tantrum are you throwing now? I already compensated you for your grandmother. What more do you want?!” “Compensation?” I laughed until tears came. “Ethan, can human life be compensated? Let go of me. You disgust me.” I shook off his hand and walked into the guest room without looking back. Final countdown. Three days. To celebrate her engagement, Stella rented a luxury yacht for a party. She specifically had someone send me an invitation, saying the reason was “the family should be together.” I looked at the invitation and smiled. I’d been waiting for this day for a long time. The night of the yacht party, the sea breeze was cool. I wore a simple black dress, standing in the shadows on the deck. I watched Stella, the center of attention in the banquet hall, with Ethan beside her, looking distracted. I touched the mini voice recorder and camera hidden in my dress. Tonight, I’d make Stella admit she killed Derek and caused Grandma’s death. Then I would jump from this yacht and completely disappear from Ethan’s world. Ethan, get ready for your personal hell.

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On my birthday, Sean, the Alpha of Black Pack, was once again summoned away by his adopted daughter Lila. Furious, I posted a declaration on the werewolf forum: “The best birthday gift Sean gave me is his promise that I’ll become the Luna of Black Pack this year.” The next second, a provocative message from Lila popped up. It was a sex tape of Lila and Sean. In the video, all the buttons on her clothes had been violently torn open. Beneath her disheveled garments, glaring hickeys trailed down from her collarbone. And the broad-shouldered figure of the man on top of her—I could recognize him with my eyes closed. Below the video was a caption: “I gave my first time to my beloved Sean.” My phone screen froze on Lila’s provocative video. Behind the frosted glass, Sean’s silhouette in the shower pierced my heart like a thorn. On my 29th birthday, Sean left me alone in an empty villa and took his adopted daughter to a hotel. Looking at the post I’d made half an hour ago—visible only to him—I felt nothing but bitter irony. Unwillingness sprouted wildly in my chest like weeds. I grabbed my car keys and rushed out the door. His assistant said he was at the golf course today, playing with several Pack Alphas. I needed to ask him face-to-face what these ten years had meant. The golf course lawn was scorching hot. The caddy was about to announce my arrival when I raised my hand to stop him. I wanted to see how he’d explain today’s events in front of his brothers. I’d just walked behind the palm trees near the rest area when Sean’s voice drifted over, grating on my nerves: “I’m done with this hole. Lila just messaged saying she’s awake at the hotel and wants me to come back for brunch with her.” The Alphas playing with him burst into laughter. One of them slapped the table and teased: “Sean’s got eyes for no one but his adopted daughter these days. Last time we played, he took one call from Lila, dropped his club, and left. We were all stunned.” Another chimed in: “Speaking of which, Lila’s really blossomed into a beauty—tiny waist, long legs. Don’t tell me you’re not tempted, seeing her every day?” “Tempted?” His tone dripped with undisguised pride. He leaned back in his chair with a lazy, arrogant posture. “More than tempted. I took her virginity. She gave herself to me on her coming-of-age night.” As his words landed, the Alphas erupted in laughter, exchanging knowing glances. “Way to go, Sean! You know how to play it! Raised a girl for over a decade and made her yours in the end!” “I raised her all these years—what’s wrong with collecting a little interest?” Sean scoffed, his tone matter-of-fact. “Besides, her father died saving me back then. I owe her that much. Better she gives her first time to me than to some rogue or inferior Alpha out there.” Casual words, making his immoral possession sound like a grand favor. Someone laughed and added: “Aren’t you worried Elara will find out? Last time I saw her, she looked terrible. She’s probably sensed something.” At the mention of me, Sean’s tone turned cold, laced with undisguised disgust and impatience: “Her? What can she do even if she finds out? She’s nearly thirty, an Omega with no parents, no pack. Without me, she doesn’t even have a place to live. Does she dare make a scene?” He paused, as if remembering something, and scoffed with contempt: “Besides, who knows if she’s even clean? Ten years ago, she was in that alley with three rogue wolves for so long, her clothes all torn. Who knows what happened? I’m being generous by keeping her around. She should be grateful.” “Lila’s better,” he said, swirling his strawberry milkshake. His tone softened with a tenderness I’d never heard from him. “She grew up by my side. I know everything about her. She’s clean and well-behaved. She doesn’t nag me all day like Elara does. So damn annoying.” The Alphas chimed in one after another: “Exactly! A home-raised Omega is way better than a wild one! Clean and obedient!” “Elara’s so ungrateful. An Alpha willing to take her in is generous enough, and she still tries to control everything!” “If you ask me, Alpha, you should’ve dumped her long ago. Marry Lila—you’ll also win over her father’s old subordinates. Two birds with one stone!” Sean impatiently cut off the conversation, his tone suggesting even mentioning me was a mood-killer: “Enough, enough. Stop bringing her up. Why even talk about her?” “Let’s keep playing. Lila’s driving over to pick me up later. Don’t want to keep her waiting.”

I stood behind the palm tree, my entire body freezing cold. So my ten years of companionship were nothing but charity in his eyes. The night I nearly got killed by rogues trying to save my sister Eirlys had become evidence of my uncleanliness in his mouth. Memory yanked me back ten years to that chaotic night. Wind whipped at my loose hair. In a daze, I was transported to that cold, rainy border dusk a decade ago. I was nineteen. Eirlys, who grew up with me in the orphanage, had been lured to the northern border by three wandering rogues. No one at the orphanage cared if we lived or died. The police didn’t take it seriously. I clutched the money I’d saved from six months of part-time work, bought the cheapest bus ticket, and chased after her to the border alone. When I crept into the warehouse, Eirlys was tied to a pillar, her face badly swollen, her clothes torn to shreds. Three rogues surrounded her, taunting her with vile words. My vision went red. I grabbed a rusty steel pipe by the door and charged in, swinging wildly at them like a madwoman. As an Omega, I was no match for three adult Alphas. I was quickly kicked to the ground. Fists and feet rained down on me. The pain was excruciating. But I shielded Eirlys behind me, gritting my teeth, refusing to retreat even half a step. Even if I died, I couldn’t let them touch my sister. Just as the lead rogue raised his club to smash my head, the warehouse door was kicked open. “BANG!” Sean stood at the entrance with Black Pack’s border patrol. His black tactical uniform was soaked with rain, his eyes cold as ice. He merely raised his hand, and the guards behind him rushed forward, pinning the three rogues to the ground. He walked up to me and paused. I was covered in injuries, my face smeared with mud and blood. Though I was trembling with fear, I still shielded my sister behind me. When I looked up at him, tears mixed with rainwater streamed down my face. He crouched down and reached out to wipe the mud from my face: “It’s okay now. You’re safe.” He brought Eirlys and me back to the border camp, found us clean clothes, and called the medical officer to treat our wounds. I sat by the campfire, watching him crouch in front of me, cleaning the wounds on my hands. “You’re an Omega, and you dared to break into a rogue den alone? Have a death wish?” He looked up at me, his eyes carrying a hint of reproach, but more than that, undeniable emotion. I bit my lip, my voice hoarse: “Eirlys and I both grew up in an orphanage. No parents, no one to care about us. She’s my only family. I couldn’t lose her.” His hand cleaning his gun suddenly froze. He looked up at me. For the first time, the sharp edge in his gaze softened, replaced by something indescribable. That night, he gave Eirlys and me his room while he and his team stayed in tents outside, keeping watch all night. Everyone in the camp knew Sean never let anyone into his room. We were the first. The next day when he returned from patrol, he had a handful of milk candies and wildflowers picked from the roadside: “The herder’s kids gave these to me. Brought them for you to try.” The usually cold Alpha’s ears turned red as he handed me the flowers. I stayed at the camp for five days. He avenged us, wiped out that group of rogues, and even found Eirlys a proper office job in Chicago, renting a small apartment with a balcony for her. The day I left, he leaned against his SUV, looking at me with a deep, serious gaze: “Elara, come back to Chicago with me.” “From now on, Black Pack will be your support. Anyone under my protection—no one in Chicago will dare touch them.” He paused, reaching out to ruffle my hair. The gesture was dominant yet gentle. “I’ll give you a home.” In my nineteen years, no one had ever said such words to me. Orphanage kids were always abandoned. No one cared if we lived or died. I looked into his eyes, nodded, and tears fell. He removed the wolf fang pendant he’d worn for over a decade from his neck and personally placed it around mine. “This is for you. When I’m not around, it’ll protect you in my place.” On my first birthday back in Chicago, he—an Alpha—personally baked me a cake. Back then, he sat across from me, smiling: “From now on, I’ll bake you a cake every birthday. We’ll be together forever.” The memory receded like a tide. Ten years. He lured me in with the promise of home, dulled my claws with Black Pack’s protection. In the end, he joined others in mocking my origins and questioning my purity. I steadied myself against the cold wall and slowly straightened up. I glanced one last time at the man laughing and chatting in the main seat, then without hesitation, threw the pendant around my neck into the trash. Sean, it was you who let go first.

I turned and left the golf course, walking aimlessly along the coastline. The sea breeze carried a salty tang, making the tear tracks on my face feel ice-cold. Ten years of genuine devotion wasted. Even hatred felt superfluous now—only endless exhaustion and emptiness remained. I walked to a secluded rocky beach, a place Sean and I used to visit often. He’d once promised me a home here. Ironically, now only I remained. Just as I crouched down to pick up a stone to throw into the sea, footsteps sounded behind me. I turned around. Three men in black hoodies surrounded me, their eyes vicious—clearly not good people. “You’re Sean’s Omega?” The leader sneered. “Our boss got ruined by Sean. Today we’re taking it out on you!” They were sent by one of Sean’s business rivals. My heart sank. I turned to run but they blocked my path. “Where do you think you’re going?” The man reached for my hair. “Sean’s so arrogant, isn’t he? Why isn’t anyone here to save you now?” I struggled desperately but was kicked hard in the stomach by one of them. Searing pain hit instantly. I curled up on the ground, drenched in cold sweat. Seeing I couldn’t move, they became even more brazen, reaching to tear my clothes. Just then, a figure stepped in front of me. A powerful Alpha aura erupted, instantly forcing the three rogues to their knees. “You dare cause trouble on Black Pack territory?” A deep voice came from above my head. I looked up to see a man in a dark blue suit. Behind him stood several guards in Black Pack uniforms, guns drawn and aimed at the three men. The man crouched down, reaching out to help me. His voice was steady: “Are you alright?” I tried to stand with his help, but another wave of abdominal pain struck. Everything went black. The last thing I felt was my body falling forward uncontrollably. I woke to the smell of disinfectant in a hospital. I moved slightly. A clear, heavy pain came from my lower abdomen. The medical officer approached, voice calm: “Elara, you’ve had a miscarriage.” I blinked, staring at the ceiling lights. I didn’t cry or break down. It felt like the moment I heard Sean’s words, my heart had already died. What I’d lost now was simply a child who should never have come into this world. The door opened. The man who’d saved me walked in, holding my examination report. The hospital room door opened gently. The man who saved me entered, my examination report in hand. “You’re awake.” He poured a glass of warm water and handed it to me, his movements gentlemanly, maintaining an appropriate distance. “I’m Kael.” So this was the legitimate Black Pack heir Sean had always been wary of. I took the water glass and said softly: “Thank you.” “Security has taken those three men away. They were sent by one of Sean’s business rivals.” He paused, looking at me. “Do you need to contact your Alpha?” Sean? I thought of how he’d bragged about sleeping with his adopted daughter at the golf course, mocking my uncleanliness. I shook my head. “No need.” Kael looked at me but didn’t press. “I’ve already paid the medical bills. You need to rest. Miscarriages are very hard on an Omega’s body.” I looked at him and suddenly smiled: “Kael, how should I thank you?” He paused, then shook his head: “No need. Protecting Omegas is every Alpha’s responsibility.” He left a business card and turned to leave the room. I was alone in the hospital room. Waves of pain from my lower abdomen kept coming, as if reminding me of my past foolishness. I picked up my phone and opened Sean’s chat interface. The last message was one he’d sent this morning: “There’s a family dinner tonight. Wear that white dress I bought you. Don’t be late.” I stared at those words for a long time. Then my finger slid across the screen. Block, delete, done. From the moment he said those words at the golf course, we were already over. This child’s departure simply gave me a reason to let go completely. I would never look back. Sean, we’re even now.

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I married my best friend Ethan Cole’s sister, Frost. I was addicted to her for three years, but ever since she gave birth to our daughter, she refused to share a bed with me. When she had needs, she’d rather take care of it herself than come near me. I once suspected something was wrong with me. When I was drinking with Ethan to drown my sorrows, I complained about it. The next evening, I saw Frost pin Ethan against the wall. “You know I’m in love with you! I already did what you told me to—I married Zachary, even gave him a daughter. And now you want me to be intimate with him too? Do you really not care if I live or die?!” Our daughter was wiping away tears beside them. “I like Uncle Ethan too. I want Uncle Ethan to be my daddy.” The veins on Ethan’s forehead bulged as he pulled them both into a tight embrace. “Frost, you’re in my heart too. I want to raise Emma as well. But we’re siblings on the same household register. What would people think if I married you?” “Besides, Zachary saved your life during that earthquake. You married him. You two should just live a good life together from now on.” “Emma, be a good girl. Your daddy gave you his kidney. You need to honor him from now on, understand?” Frost covered his mouth forcefully. “Isn’t giving him a child enough?!” “I can stay married to him, but letting him touch me is impossible. Except for you, I won’t let anyone touch me.” So my wife wasn’t frigid after all. Her body would only submit to another man.

I didn’t want to see or hear what came next. I walked home alone, lost and hollow. My chest hurt so badly I swallowed several painkillers. I barely made it through the night. At dawn, I contacted a lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. The lawyer asked me, “Do you want to fight for custody? Your daughter is only six years old. The chances of custody going to the mother are very high.” I didn’t know. I had poured everything into Emma, but she didn’t want me as her father. I could only tell the lawyer, “Let me think about it.” The front door burst open. Frost came home with our daughter. I was about to bring up the divorce when my daughter suddenly wrapped her arms around my leg. Her innocent little face was full of pleading. “Daddy, Uncle Ethan’s company suddenly got scammed out of fifty million dollars. It’s about to go bankrupt. Can you sell the house and lend him the money?” These weren’t words a six-year-old should be saying. Seeing I didn’t react, Frost’s usually cold and distant face showed a panic and nervousness I’d never seen before. “Please, Zachary. If you help, I’ll do anything you want.” I lowered my eyes, not looking at her, my heart bitter. “You’ll do anything? Then if I ask you to give me another child, would you agree to that too?” “Yes!” My nails dug into my palms. I went to the bedroom and took out the property deed. “But think carefully. I’m down one kidney. I can’t work overtime or do physical labor. This house is the last safety net for you and Emma.” Frost didn’t hesitate for a second. She grabbed the deed and left. She mortgaged the house and spent days by Ethan’s side. I didn’t interfere. I just took my daughter to the hospital for another checkup. The doctor said she was very healthy after receiving my kidney and could live normally from now on. Leaving pediatrics, I stopped by nephrology for my regular checkup. I’d had to come every six months since donating my kidney. The doctor looked at my lab results, his brow furrowing tighter and tighter. “Mr. Spencer, you’re down to one kidney, and now this one is showing signs of mild failure. Your creatinine levels are elevated, and your urine protein is abnormal. You absolutely cannot overwork yourself, drink alcohol, or do strenuous exercise from now on, or you might need long-term dialysis.” My heart sank, but I kept my expression neutral. “Do I need medication?” “I’ll prescribe a course of out-of-pocket drugs. Three thousand dollars a box, taken continuously for three months. Your constitution was never very strong to begin with, and with all the stress lately…” The doctor sighed. “You must rest.” I walked out of the consultation room with my report and asked my daughter, “If Mommy and Daddy get divorced, who would you want to live with?” “Mommy.” My daughter answered without hesitation, looking at me happily. “Daddy, are you going to divorce Mommy? Then Mommy’s wish will finally come true.” A bitter taste filled my mouth. I notified the lawyer to give up custody. As I left the hospital, I spotted Frost’s car at the entrance. She looked at me with surprise. “Are you not feeling well? Or is Emma sick? Why didn’t you call me? I could have come with you.” I said flatly, “Emma’s checkup. Nothing serious. Aren’t you supposed to be with Ethan? What are you doing at the hospital?” Frost was silent for a moment, her eyes showing something like guilt. Then she pulled out an appointment slip. “I came to ask about IVF.” “You said you wanted a child. I’ll keep my promise.” For Ethan’s sake, she really was committed to preserving her chastity. She could give me a child through IVF, but she wouldn’t sleep with me. I tore the appointment slip in half. “Never mind. I thought about it. Emma doesn’t want a sibling anyway. Let me change my request.” Frost visibly relaxed. “That’s great. What do you want instead?” I handed her the divorce agreement where I’d given up custody. “Just sign this. That’s all I’m asking you to do.” Frost flipped straight to the last page. Before signing, she was about to look at what was written on the previous pages. The next second, her phone rang. “Frost, did you get the fever medicine? I think my temperature’s up to 102.” “I’ll be right there. Let me ask the doctor about precautions first, then I’ll come over.” She soothed the man on the other end while rapidly signing the agreement. My daughter was clamoring to see her uncle. Frost took her and left, telling me to get a cab home myself. So she didn’t come to the hospital for IVF after all. She came because Ethan had a fever.

I followed Frost to Ethan’s hospital room. I stood at the door like some shameful voyeur, peering through the gap. I could see everything inside clearly. Frost’s face wore the gentle smile I hadn’t seen in so long as she bent down to take Ethan’s temperature. Her movements were delicate, like handling fragile porcelain. After checking his temperature, she turned to pour water, tested its warmth, then counted out two pills from the medicine box and placed them in Ethan’s palm. Ethan lounged lazily on the sofa. He took the pills but didn’t swallow them right away. Instead, he pulled Frost into his arms and kissed her forehead. Frost smiled and pushed him away—that smile I’d never seen at home. The corners of her eyes curved, her lips turned up, looking like a girl acting coquettish. She held the water glass to Ethan’s lips and watched as he obediently swallowed the pills before nodding with satisfaction. I stood outside the hospital room, the cold wind in the corridor blowing through me. My heart felt frozen. After donating my kidney to my daughter, my health had deteriorated. Fevers of 104 degrees were common. She had never treated me with such tenderness. She would never smile at me like that. Never speak my name with honey in her voice. She would only call “Zachary” in that flat tone, like addressing a casual neighbor. She wouldn’t take my temperature or feed me medicine—she’d just tell me to take fever reducers, then sleep in a separate room. The difference between love and indifference was so painfully obvious. I pocketed my phone and turned to leave. Back home, I opened my mobile banking app to check if last month’s salary had been deposited. The kidney failure medication cost three thousand dollars a box. I needed to scrape together the money. The number on the screen made me freeze for a full ten seconds. Balance: $87.42 I checked the transaction history again. Besides the money transferred to Ethan for his “company emergency,” there were several recent purchases: Department store shopping $32,000, phone store $9,900, luxury boutique $21,000… all charged to my credit card. I collapsed onto the sofa and called Frost. It rang for a long time before she answered. “What is it?” Frost sounded impatient. “The credit card charges—was that you?” “Oh, I bought Ethan a suit and a phone. He has to meet with investors. He can’t look shabby.” “But you used my money. It’s almost seventy thousand dollars.” “You’re a grown man. Why are you so petty?” Frost’s tone was like scolding an unreasonable child. “Ethan’s company is going bankrupt. He needs decent clothes for business negotiations.” “Your medicine? Just borrow some money from your parents.” Ethan’s voice came through the phone, lazy and casual: “Come on, Zachary, don’t be so stingy. When my company recovers, I’ll pay you back tenfold.” I hung up and called Frost’s father. “Dad, my kidney is failing. The medication costs…” Her father was silent for a long time, then sighed. “I know you’re struggling financially, but your mom and I aren’t well-off either. We just helped your brother-in-law pay his mortgage a few days ago. We don’t have much left.” “We can give you two thousand at most. That’s it. You’ll have to figure out the rest yourself.” My phone vibrated. It was a transfer notification from Frost’s father. I sat in the empty living room. Sunlight streamed through the window onto me, but I felt no warmth at all. My phone vibrated again. A collection notice from the bank. I stared at the words “minimum payment due” on the screen and suddenly felt like a complete joke. The next day, I went out in my old jacket. Passing a street corner, a homeless man sat on the ground with a paper cup in front of him. I instinctively reached into my pocket and found only two coins. As I bent down to drop them in, a passerby looked at me with pity and also threw two dollars into the cup. I crouched on the curb, staring at those two coins, and laughed for a long time. I laughed until tears choked out of me.

Frost’s social media feed had become all about Ethan. Every caption was a prayer for his recovery, for his company to overcome its difficulties. In the photos, my daughter always nestled against Ethan, as if they were the family of three. I called a cleaning service to clear out everything I didn’t need. The clothes and gaming console she’d given me, the necklace and watch I’d given her, the stuffed animals and toys I’d bought for my daughter. The cleaner kept asking if I was really sure I wanted to throw it all away. I never changed my mind. After everything was tossed out, Frost came home. She stared at the empty house, her face full of shock. “Why did you throw everything away?” “The house is being sold anyway. We won’t need any of this. Why are you suddenly back?” Frost’s first words were a complaint. “Today is Emma’s birthday. Mom and Dad reserved a private room at a restaurant. Did you really forget?” How could I forget my own daughter’s birthday? It’s just that Frost’s parents didn’t like me. Every time, it was just the two siblings taking my daughter. There was never a place for me. When we entered the private room, we found a strange young woman already sitting inside. Frost’s mother beckoned to Ethan to sit down. “Ethan, look at your sister’s kid—she’s already six years old, and you still don’t even have a girlfriend. How can that be?” “This is my colleague’s daughter. You young people should get to know each other. If you’re compatible, get engaged quickly. I’m still waiting to hold a grandson.” Frost’s face immediately turned ugly. She gripped her daughter’s hand tightly, her eyes reddening. “Mom! You want a grandson—isn’t Emma right here? Why are you forcing Ethan to marry someone he doesn’t love!” “What nonsense. Who says he doesn’t love her? Feelings develop over time, just like you and Zachary. Didn’t you two have a good life after marriage?” “What I want is a grandson. What you gave birth to can only be considered a granddaughter from your side of the family.” Frost broke down crying: “That’s because you don’t know how miserable I’ve been since getting married!” “And I specifically let my daughter take my last name. She’s a Cole child. If Ethan agrees, I’ll let Emma call him Daddy!” My daughter crisply called out “Daddy.” Smoothly, as if she’d practiced it a thousand times. My heart felt crushed by a boulder. The surgical incision from the kidney donation throbbed with phantom pain, but I knew it was all in my head. What really hurt was my heart. Frost’s father, who had been silent, finally rebuked her. “You are you, and your brother is your brother. What does it mean for your daughter to call your brother Daddy?” “Sit down and eat properly. Stop making a spectacle in front of this young lady.” Tears streamed down Frost’s face. She turned to leave but didn’t notice the server entering with a stew. The server stumbled several steps from the collision, and scalding soup splashed everywhere. In that critical moment, both Frost and my daughter lunged toward Ethan. And I, forgotten where I stood, was drenched head-on with boiling water close to 200 degrees Fahrenheit. My skin burned with searing pain, like being roasted over a fire. After struggling for a few seconds, I lost consciousness. I don’t know how long passed before I heard voices. My eyelids felt sewn shut, but my ears could still hear. It was Frost’s mother’s voice. “Zachary, are you awake?” I felt someone grasp my hand—rough, warm hands. “The doctor said you have second-degree burns on your face and body. It’ll take months to heal. Mom feels terrible for you, but…” She paused, her voice becoming cautious. “We parents can see what’s going on between Frost and Ethan.” “But Ethan is the only son of the Cole family. You can’t ruin his reputation.” “You’ve already married Frost and had a daughter. Just turn a blind eye. Men need to be magnanimous.” I wanted to speak, but my throat felt stuffed with cotton. Frost’s father’s voice joined in, low and stern. “That’s right. Ethan said when you’re discharged, he’ll give you some money. You can find a woman on the side.” “As long as you don’t divorce, we’re still one family.” “Dad knows you’re being wronged. But think about it—Emma is still young. She can’t be without her mother.” “If you really divorce, you definitely won’t get custody. You’re in kidney failure. You can’t even support yourself.” Tears seeped from beneath my bandages, rolling over my burned skin. It hurt like being cut with a knife. But I couldn’t tell if it was the wound that hurt, or if my heart hurt more.

When I woke again, my daughter was leaning over my bed, her round eyes staring at me. I was about to comfort her that I was fine. But my daughter sighed regretfully. “Daddy, you slept for so long. I thought you died.” “If you had died, that would have been great. Then Mommy could be with Uncle Ethan.” “They’re in the living room talking right now. Mommy is crying so sadly.” My heart was torn open by her innocent tone. Enduring the pain throughout my body, I pushed open the bedroom door. Frost’s voice stabbed sharply into my skull. “Ethan Cole, let’s come clean to Mom and Dad. So what if they know we like each other!” “I can’t accept another woman being by your side. I’ll go crazy.” “As long as you’re willing to leave with me, I can even leave Emma behind. We’ll go somewhere where no one knows us!” Ethan flatly refused. “That won’t work. Have you thought about Zachary? Zachary is my best friend and your husband. I can’t let him lose both of us.” “Then why did you force me to marry him!” “Do you know that I used to feel guilty toward Zachary, but every single second of being married to him, I’ve hated him. You’re the one who made him lose us!” A pathetic groan escaped my throat. The bandaged area slammed hard against the door frame. Ethan’s expression changed drastically. He rushed over to support my shoulders. “Zachary, you’re awake. Does it hurt? Frost and I were just rehearsing a script. The screenwriter sent it earlier saying the emotions weren’t full enough, so we were practicing.” I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead and forced a smile. “Is that so? I heard everything just now. I thought you both did very well.” Ethan helped me back to the hospital bed and gave a few instructions to “rest well” before hurriedly leaving with Frost. The moment the door closed, soft laughter drifted from the hallway. She was laughing, as if those words had never been spoken. I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The wound started hurting again. It felt like fire burning beneath the bandages, but I didn’t even have the strength to cry out in pain. The door cracked open. Emma’s little head poked through. When her round eyes confirmed I was alone, she swaggered in. “Daddy.” She stood by the bed, clutching a pink hair clip in her hand—the one Ethan had given her last week. “What is it?” My voice was so hoarse it was barely audible. Emma climbed onto the chair by the bed, her legs swinging back and forth. She tilted her head and stared at me for a while before suddenly asking, “Daddy, when are you moving out?” I froze. “Uncle Ethan said his new house is ready. It has a bigger yard where we can have a dog. Mommy said she’s moving there too.” Emma counted on her fingers. “Grandma said after that, I can see Uncle Ethan every day.” “Daddy, can you move out quickly? Once you’re gone, we can live in the big house.” Her tone was as light as discussing tomorrow’s breakfast. There was no reluctance in her eyes, only pure anticipation. “Emma,” I tried to reach out to touch her face, “if Daddy leaves, no one will tell you bedtime stories.” “Uncle Ethan will!” She proudly lifted her chin. “Uncle Ethan tells better stories than you.” I withdrew my hand, my fingertips trembling slightly. Emma jumped off the chair and ran to the door. Then she turned back and seriously reminded me: “Daddy, when you leave, take all your stuff with you. Mommy said not to leave anything here. It takes up space.” With that, she ran off. The patter of footsteps in the hallway grew fainter and fainter. I slowly closed my eyes. Takes up space. So in her eyes, even my existence was superfluous. The string that had been stretched taut finally snapped in that moment. I fumbled under my pillow for my phone and sent a message to the lawyer: “Process the divorce agreement as originally drafted. I don’t want a penny. Just make it fast.”

My face and body were wrapped in bandages. I stayed home for many days without going out. I thought Frost would be thrilled. She could brazenly cling to Ethan without worrying I’d find out. But she didn’t. Instead, she stayed home taking care of me. She’d wake early in the morning to make chicken soup, then call me to eat after I woke up. She’d patiently help me apply medicine, and when the wounds were exposed, she’d even have our daughter blow on them gently. I couldn’t understand what she was trying to do. Until I discovered she had transferred our last bit of savings to Ethan as well. Frost could never give me any emotional response. The better she treated me, the more it meant she was hurting me. But fortunately, I didn’t need that money. The seven years I’d been married to Frost were probably the poorest seven years of my life. I just quietly urged the lawyer to process the divorce paperwork. Every night after I went to bed, Frost would quietly leave by car. She thought I didn’t know, but I was awake every time. Even Emma knew. Emma asked me, “Daddy, aren’t you angry that Mommy goes out?” I just shook my head with a smile. I knew where Frost went. The year Emma was born, we had exchanged GPS locations—just a small feature that was easy to forget. Now every day I could see her location appearing at Ethan’s house. That evening, Frost’s mother called about a family dinner to celebrate Ethan’s company “overcoming its difficulties.” I wanted to refuse, but Frost gently persuaded me: “The bandages are off your face. It would be good for you to get out. Besides, Emma wants you to come.” I knew Emma didn’t want me there, but I still put on my cleanest shirt to cover the scars on my neck. At the restaurant’s private room, there was Frost’s father and mother, Ethan, Frost, Emma, and that blind date woman from last time. The atmosphere was much better than before. Ethan wore his new suit, looking spirited as he poured drinks for everyone. Emma wore a pink princess dress today with two little buns. Frost had done her hair. Frost’s mother suggested having Emma pass around cookies to the elders. “Come on, Emma. Start with Grandma.” Emma helped pass around a plate of cookies and walked over, saying sweetly, “Grandma, please have cookies.” Frost’s mother beamed with joy. “Now serve one to your uncle.” Frost’s mother pointed at Ethan with a smile. Emma walked up to Ethan, and suddenly called out crisply: “Daddy, please have cookies.” The entire room fell silent for a moment. The sound of knives and forks dropping on the table was particularly clear. Frost’s mother paused, then smoothed things over. “This child, why are you calling people the wrong names?” Emma said seriously, as if she’d rehearsed it many times, “Mommy said Uncle Ethan is my new daddy. Daddy is moving out soon.” Everyone’s eyes turned to me. My hand holding the water glass was trembling. Scalding water splashed out and burned the back of my hand, but I felt nothing. I looked at Frost. She was looking down at her phone, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned with a trace of smug satisfaction. Ethan, on the other hand, acted magnanimous, pulling Emma close and kissing her cheek. “Emma is such a good girl. Uncle Ethan will be good to you from now on.” Then he looked up, meeting my eyes, and said with a smile: “Zachary, don’t take it to heart. Kids are young and don’t understand.” I opened my mouth, wanting to say something. Frost’s mother across from me sighed, looking at me with an expression that said “why are you so stubborn”: “Zachary, the child made a mistake. Don’t take it personally.” I lowered my head, looking at the water glass in my hands. The water reflected my face—half covered with red marks from the burns, like an ugly birthmark. I suddenly felt a bitter taste in my mouth. More bitter than kidney failure medication. I set down the water glass and said quietly, “She’s right. I am moving out soon.” Then I stood up, grabbed my jacket, and walked out of the private room. Behind me came Emma’s cheers: “Yay! Old Daddy is finally leaving!” Then Frost’s soft laugh, Ethan’s “Come on, let’s keep eating,” and Frost’s mother’s “Don’t worry about him. That’s just his temperament.” I stood outside the restaurant entrance. The night wind poured into my collar, blowing against the scars on my neck—painful and itchy. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Frost. “It’s better that you left. With you there for Emma’s birthday, everyone felt awkward.” I didn’t reply.

My injuries improved day by day. The lawyer finally contacted me. “Mr. Spencer, your divorce certificate has been processed. I’ll send it to you by courier.” I immediately stopped him. “Don’t send it by courier. I’ll pick it up in person.” I couldn’t wait even one more day. Two thin pieces of paper—what I’d been desperately waiting for. I gave Emma the one that belonged to Frost. “When your mommy comes home, show her this document.” Just as I was about to leave for the airport, I suddenly received a call from Ethan. “Zachary, come quick! Something happened to Frost!” I arrived at the bar where Frost was. After asking many people, I finally found the second-floor public restroom. I saw Frost’s thighs wrapped around Ethan’s waist. She was continuously rubbing and kissing the man’s neck, trying to unbutton his shirt. Her voice was sickeningly sweet as she murmured. “Ethan, do you know how happy I’ve been these past days with you? It’s like a dream.” “Accept me. Let’s be together forever.” In the open space, Ethan spotted me immediately. His voice was gentle and coaxing. “What about Zachary? He’d risk his life for you. He’d be devastated to hear you say this.” Frost’s voice carried a sobbing tone. “I don’t care about him. Do you know, when I gave birth to our daughter, I wanted to strangle her?” “I can’t accept that Zachary and I have a child together!” “If only he hadn’t saved me back then. We’d still have a chance to be together, wouldn’t we?” I’d heard these words so many times I’d lost count. Besides feeling sorry for my daughter, I couldn’t summon a single emotion. Ethan called me over. “Zachary, don’t listen to Frost’s nonsense. She drank something spiked just now. She’s confused.” “Take her aside and help her with the antidote.” He said this, but his hands made no motion to push her away. He just watched as Frost’s hand gradually reached for his belt. She even waved her hand to slap me. “Don’t touch me. I don’t want you. Get away.” I laughed. “The antidote, right? Fine, I’ll help you both.” The moment I finished that sentence, before I could make any move, several people in uniforms suddenly rushed up the stairs. “Zachary Spencer? Someone reported that you’ve been domestically abusing your wife long-term and threatening to harm your wife and daughter. Please come with us to the station for investigation.” Two officers grabbed me from both sides, twisting my arms behind my back. “I never abused anyone!” I struggled and shouted. Frost suddenly “sobered up,” tears streaming down her face as she rushed to the police: “Officers, it’s him! After he was disfigured, his temper got worse and worse. He hits me constantly.” “Today he got drunk and said he’d take our daughter with him to die. I was terrified, so I called the police!” She cried hysterically, her shoulders shaking, looking like someone who’d been victimized for a long time. I stared wide-eyed at her performance, unable to say a single word. What broke me even more was that my daughter Emma appeared from nowhere, tugging at Frost’s clothes, tears in her eyes as she told the police: “Police officers, my daddy hits my mommy and said he’d kill me.” She said it so naturally, without a single stammer. I crouched down, trying to touch her face. “Emma, when did Daddy ever—” “Don’t touch me!” Emma screamed and dodged, hiding in Ethan’s arms. Ethan looked pained as he told the police: “Officers, I’m her brother. My sister hasn’t had a single good day since marrying him. Today he got drunk and followed us here to cause trouble. We really had no choice.” Under Ethan and Frost’s accusations, I was handcuffed and taken to the police station. I sat in the interrogation room for two hours while a young officer kept repeating the same questions. “Do you admit to domestic violence?” “I didn’t do it.” “Your wife and daughter both identified you. Neighbors also reported hearing arguments from your home.” “Arguments don’t equal domestic violence.” “Then how do you explain the bruises on your wife’s body?” I froze. Frost had bruises on her body?

After staying in the interrogation room for 24 hours, when I walked out of the police station, I felt like I’d been through another lifetime. Ethan’s car was parked at the police station entrance. He got out and walked toward me.He patted my shoulder, his voice as warm as a true brother’s. “Zachary, just revise the property division in the divorce agreement. Give the house and savings to Frost.” “Then I’ll have them drop the case. Otherwise, as a domestic abuser, you can forget about ever seeing your daughter again.” The night wind blew through me. I was chilled to the bone. “You’re the one who called the police.” I said. Ethan didn’t deny it. He just smiled. “Zachary, I’m doing this for your own good. Look, your health isn’t great. Wouldn’t living alone be easier? The assets are useless to you anyway. Give them to Frost and Emma, and they’ll remember your kindness.” I looked at him. At this man I’d once considered my brother. The streetlight stretched his shadow long, like a twisted vine. I signed the case withdrawal agreement. The house went to Frost. The savings went to Frost. Custody of my daughter went to Frost. I left with nothing. Ethan drove away with Frost and Emma. As they passed me, Frost rolled down the window and said flatly, “Smart choice.” Emma pressed against the car window and made a face at me. I stood at the police station entrance, clutching that thin divorce certificate. The night wind blew, and the paper’s corner dug into my palm. It didn’t hurt. I’d already endured worse pain than this. The streetlight stretched my shadow long and faint, like ink that could dissolve at any moment. I remembered the day three years ago when we got our marriage license. Frost didn’t smile once. When the clerk said “congratulations,” she just hummed in response. I thought she was shy at the time. Now I understood—that was the politeness of someone completely indifferent to another person. My phone vibrated. I looked down. It was a voice message from Frost’s mother. I hesitated for two seconds before opening it. “Zachary, Mom knows you signed the papers today.” Her voice was low, as if hiding from someone. “Mom wants to tell you something from the heart—it’s actually better that you’re leaving.” “Your face and neck are covered in scars. Emma’s still young. If she sees them too much, she’ll have nightmares.” “Don’t come to the house anymore, and don’t come see the child. Let her slowly forget you. It’s better for her.” My hand holding the phone trembled. My throat felt blocked by something. I wanted to say: Mom, those scars are from donating a kidney to save your granddaughter. Those scars are from protecting your daughter when boiling water scalded me. But I said nothing, because I knew it would be useless. The voice message finished playing. The screen lit up again—Frost’s mother had recalled the message. A few seconds later, she sent a new one: “Zachary, Mom sent the wrong message just now. Take care of yourself while you heal.” I didn’t reply. I looked up and saw a 24-hour fast food restaurant across from the police station, warm yellow light glowing through the glass windows. Inside sat a family of three. The parents were wiping their child’s mouth. The child laughed and burrowed into the mother’s arms. I watched for a few seconds, then reached into my pocket for my phone and removed the SIM card. I bent down and threw it into a storm drain by the road. When the card fell, it made no sound at all—like a complete and utter silence. I straightened up and hailed a cab. “Where to?” the driver asked. “Airport.”

The car started moving. Through the rearview mirror, I watched the police station gate grow smaller and more distant, finally becoming a point of light that disappeared into the night. Outside the window, this city’s thousands of lights were like a silent river. I sent no messages. I made no calls. Not because I feared they’d ask me to stay, but because I knew too clearly—no one would ask me to stay anyway. So be it. From today on, Zachary Spencer had no more weaknesses. After flying back to New York, I checked into the best hospital. No information leaked out. My grandfather’s people cleared the entire floor. Even the nurses had to sign confidentiality agreements before being allowed in. It wasn’t the Spencer family being ostentatious—I just didn’t want anyone to know where I was. Especially not the Coles. Top dermatology experts came to consult on my case, making sure not a single scar would remain on my body. It wasn’t about vanity or saving face. It was because even the slightest trace proving Frost’s existence made me feel sick. The expert team conducted three consultations. Each time they took dozens of photos and used instruments to scan every inch of burned skin. Professor Smith, who led the team, was a national authority in burn treatment. After examining my wounds, he frowned for a long time before finally saying: “Mr. Spencer, your burns weren’t treated promptly enough at the time. Some areas have already formed scar tissue. To remove them completely will require at least three laser surgeries.” I said, “Do it. I’ll pay whatever it costs.” Professor Smith nodded, then hesitated and asked, “These scars… how did you get them?” I didn’t answer. He probably read something in my expression and didn’t press further. On the third day of hospitalization, I underwent a comprehensive physical examination. When the results came out, the attending physician called me to his office with a grave expression. “Mr. Spencer, your current physical condition isn’t very optimistic.” “You’re down to one kidney, and that kidney’s function indicators have been steadily declining. If we don’t find a suitable kidney source soon, within three to five years, you’ll likely need long-term dialysis.” I sat in the consultation room, looking at the kidney anatomy diagram on the wall, and suddenly felt like laughing. I gave my daughter a kidney, and now even my remaining one was failing. The doctor continued, “The good news is we’ve registered you in the national organ donation system.” “With Mr. Spencer Senior’s network, we could find a matching kidney source within three months at the fastest. However…” He paused, looking at me. “However what?” “However, you need to prepare yourself mentally. After kidney transplant surgery, you’ll need to take anti-rejection drugs for life. You can’t overwork yourself, can’t exercise strenuously, and your immune system will be much weaker than a normal person’s.” “Moreover, a second kidney transplant carries much higher risks than the first.” I was silent for a long time. The sunlight outside was beautiful, shining on the white sheets, so bright it hurt the eyes. I remembered three years ago, lying on the operating table at another hospital. Before the anesthesia was administered, I looked at Frost one last time. She stood outside the operating room with no expression on her face. Before the operating room doors closed, I wanted to say something to her, but the anesthesia had already kicked in. My mouth wouldn’t open. When I woke up, there was a four-inch scar on my side and one less kidney in my body. Frost sat by the bed. When she saw me wake up, the first thing she said was, “The surgery was quite successful. Emma is in the ICU for observation now.” No “does it hurt.” No “thank you.” As if I’d just gone to donate blood—perfectly natural. “Mr. Spencer?” The doctor called me. I came back to myself and nodded. “I understand. Schedule the surgery as soon as possible.” As I walked out of the consultation room, I stood in the hallway for a long time. My phone rang. It was a message from my grandfather: “Rest up properly. Don’t think about useless things. The Spencer bloodline doesn’t fall down so easily.” Looking at that message, my nose suddenly stung. Right. We don’t fall down so easily. I’d already fallen once. I wouldn’t fall a second time. The doctor also said my current physical condition was too poor. Surviving on just one kidney, there would come a day when it exceeded its capacity. But fortunately, I waited less than three months before finding a suitable kidney source. The day I came out of the operating room, the old man had been waiting in my hospital room for half a day. As soon as he saw me, his face darkened. “Do you know what you did wrong?”

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Seven years together. At our engagement gala for the company’s anniversary, my fiancé Ethan Brown put that priceless ten-million-dollar heirloom pink diamond on my best friend Chloe’s finger—right in front of all the city’s elite. He said it matter-of-factly: “Chloe’s depression is acting up. She feels insecure. It’s just a ring. Be reasonable and I’ll buy you another one next time.” My best friend hid in his arms, her smile openly mocking. Looking at this pair of shameless scumbags, I didn’t compromise like I used to. I calmly took the microphone and publicly announced the cancellation of our engagement. Then I turned and walked toward his most formidable rival seated below—the powerful mogul Ethan Brown feared most, Xavier Holt. “Mr. Holt, need a Mrs. Holt? How about me?” Ethan Brown, since you gave the ring to someone else, my groom should change too. The tenth anniversary gala of Brown Corporation was also the day Ethan Brown would publicly announce our engagement. I wore a starry evening gown I’d spent half a month designing myself, standing on stage with a heart full of joy, waiting for the man I’d loved for seven years to put the wedding ring on my finger. But when the attendant carried that rare pink diamond onto the stage, Ethan walked right past me. He went straight to Chloe, who stood at the edge of the stage clutching her chest, swaying as if about to collapse. Before all the guests’ shocked eyes, Ethan didn’t hesitate to take Chloe’s hand and slip that pink diamond—the symbol of the Brown family matriarch’s status—onto her ring finger. The hall fell deathly silent. I stood frozen, feeling like all the blood in my body was flowing backward. Ethan turned his head, lowering his voice with his usual tone of entitlement: “Summer, Chloe almost fainted backstage just now. The doctor said she has severe depression and desperately needs security right now.” “She was crying, saying no one loves her, no one cares about her, that she can’t go on living. How could I just stand by and watch her suffer?” “Today’s just a ceremony. Be the bigger person and don’t throw a tantrum. It’s just a ring. Tomorrow I’ll have my assistant take you to pick out a bigger one.” Chloe leaned against Ethan’s shoulder, tears still clinging to the corners of her eyes, but her lips curved into a smug arc. In a voice only the three of us could hear, she cooed: “Summer, if you really feel you can’t save face, that valet at the door is pretty cute. Want me to have him play along with you? You’re not picky anyway.” Looking at this disgustingly coordinated pair, I suddenly felt nauseated. I remembered seven years ago, when Ethan had just started his business and was so poor he couldn’t afford to eat. I gave him all my living expenses. I survived on crackers for a month and ended up in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer. He sat by my hospital bed with red-rimmed eyes and swore: “Summer, if I, Ethan Brown, ever let you suffer even the slightest grievance, may I die a horrible death!” But now, the person humiliating me most, trampling my dignity into the ground, was him. I took a deep breath and met Ethan’s warning gaze. “Didn’t you say it yourself? It’s just a ceremony.” Ethan’s brow furrowed tightly as he grabbed my wrist: “Summer Lynn, what are you trying to do? I’m warning you, there are lots of media here today. Don’t you dare embarrass me!” “Embarrass you?” I couldn’t help but laugh coldly. Who exactly was the one being embarrassing? Seeing this, Chloe immediately tugged timidly at Ethan’s sleeve: “Ethan, this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have been scared. Summer has every right to be angry. Go comfort her. I’ll just give the ring back to her…” As she spoke, she pretended to remove the ring, but “accidentally” her eyes reddened. Ethan immediately pulled her protectively behind him, his eyes full of heartache. When he looked at me again, his gaze held only disappointment and disgust. “Summer, Chloe is already this sick, and you have to make a scene with her today of all days? Where’s your kindness?” Watching him shield Chloe, that part of my heart that once burned hot for him turned completely cold. I didn’t lose it. I didn’t become hysterical. I simply shook off his hand calmly and walked toward center stage.

I snatched the microphone from the host’s hand. The harsh electrical feedback instantly drowned out the murmuring crowd. I looked at the sea of people below, my voice cold and clear, every word deliberate: “Distinguished guests, members of the media, I apologize for interrupting your evening.” “Here and now, I, Summer Lynn, formally announce the dissolution of my engagement to Mr. Ethan Brown. From this moment on, whether he marries or stays single, whoever I marry—we are completely unrelated!” The moment those words left my mouth, the hall erupted. Ethan’s face turned iron-blue. He strode over, trying to grab my microphone: “Summer! Have you lost your mind? Do you even know what you’re saying!” I dodged to the side, my gaze passing over him to land directly on the man seated at the VIP main table below. Xavier Holt. A top business mogul, head of the Holt Financial Group, and Ethan Brown’s greatest nemesis in this lifetime. Today he wore a custom-tailored black suit, lounging lazily against his chair back, playing with a wine glass in his hand. Those deep, narrow eyes watched the farce on stage with an amused, mocking expression. I lifted my gown and walked down the steps one by one, going straight to Xavier Holt. Every eye in the hall followed my movement. Even breathing seemed to stop. I stood before him, looking down at him, a brilliant smile curving my lips. “Mr. Holt, I hear your grandmother’s been pressuring you about marriage lately?” “How about me? Need a Mrs. Holt?” Ethan rushed down from the stage, shouting in exasperation: “Summer! Get back here! You’re usually such a reasonable person—why are you making a spectacle of yourself today!” “Of all people, you go to Xavier Holt? You think he’d even look at you!” I ignored the barking behind me, only staring intently at Xavier Holt. The air seemed to freeze. After a long moment, Xavier let out a low laugh, the sound devastatingly seductive. He set down his wine glass and stood up deliberately. His six-foot-two frame immediately created an overwhelming sense of presence. He leaned down slightly, warm breath falling on my ear, his voice low and certain: “Alright.” Then, in front of all the guests, he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a dazzling blue diamond ring. It was the “Heart of the Ocean,” which had sold for three hundred million at a Sotheby’s auction not long ago. Xavier knelt on one knee, took my hand, and slowly slid the blue diamond onto my ring finger. “Miss Lynn, I’ve had this ring prepared for quite some time.” “Now that it’s on your finger, I, Xavier Holt, won’t be taking it back.”

After agreeing to meet Xavier tomorrow, I took a cab back to the penthouse apartment Ethan and I shared. I pushed open the door. In the entryway hung wedding photos we’d just taken a few days ago. In the photo, Ethan held me from behind, smiling with deep affection. I still remembered him solemnly whispering in my ear that day: “Summer, once the tenth anniversary gala is over and your status is established, we’ll go register our marriage immediately!” Those promises still echoed in my ears, yet the person had rotted through completely. I looked coldly at that photo, then walked forward and yanked it from the wall without hesitation, smashing it hard on the floor. The sound of shattering glass was especially jarring in the empty living room. I found a suitcase and started packing my things. Clothes, laptop, design drafts. Anything Ethan had bought, I left behind. About half an hour later, the door’s electronic lock beeped. Ethan walked in carrying an elegant cake box, with Chloe following behind him, holding a beautifully wrapped bouquet of red roses. Seeing the shattered wedding photo glass all over the floor, Ethan froze. His brow furrowed instinctively, his tone carrying a hint of superior irritation. “Summer, have you had enough of this tantrum? We’ll have to get the photo reprinted tomorrow if you smashed it.” I zipped up my suitcase, my voice completely flat: “No need to reprint it. Just clearing out the trash.” Ethan clearly didn’t catch the deeper meaning in my words. Or rather, he was so confident in my seven years of love that he didn’t believe I would actually leave him. He strode over and set the cake box on the dining table. “Alright, stop sulking. Come eat something.” His tone was gentle, as if nothing had happened—employing his usual tactic of humiliating you first, then offering some trivial gesture of kindness. “Chloe specially went to that popular bakery in the south district and waited in line to buy you mango mousse. You used to love this place, didn’t you?” I released the suitcase handle, pulled out a wet wipe, and carefully cleaned my fingers before turning to look at them. Chloe held out the roses, her face showing careful, flattering concern. “Summer, don’t be mad at Ethan about tonight.” “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have been scared because of my condition.” I didn’t take the flowers, just quietly watched her hypocritical face. “You’re right about one thing—you shouldn’t have. After all, stealing someone else’s fiancé is pretty shameless.” Chloe’s eyes immediately reddened. Her hand holding the flowers froze in midair as tears started falling, and she looked to Ethan for help. Ethan’s face immediately darkened. He pulled Chloe behind him and looked at me accusingingly: “Summer, that’s enough!” “Chloe already humbled herself to apologize to you. How long are you going to keep this up?” He took a deep breath, suppressing his anger, his tone condescending. “Fine, you were wronged at the gala tonight. But she waited in line for two hours to buy this mango mousse. At least take a bite, won’t you?” As he spoke, he opened the cake box himself and cut a piece to hand to me. A thick, sickeningly sweet mango smell hit me in the face. Looking at that piece of cake, I suddenly felt utterly absurd and couldn’t help but laugh. Ethan frowned, his expression confused: “What are you laughing at?” I looked into his eyes and asked, word by word: “Ethan Brown, do you still remember that I’m allergic to mango?”

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The night before getting my marriage license, I had a dream. A woman who looked exactly like me swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills with a pale face, then stared at me intently. I asked her in a trembling voice who she was. The woman smiled grotesquely. “I’m you seven years from now, Chloe. You’re a complete fool! Played like a dog by Ethan and Lily, and you’re willing to accept it all.” “The one Ethan really wants to marry is his foster sister. He’s only with you because the Johnson family won’t approve of them being together. Your marriage to him is fake, and you’re still overjoyed, taking care of Lily with him.” “You couldn’t even protect your own child, and ended up raising Lily’s child for six years.” “In the end, when Ethan’s parents died, they didn’t need you as their shield anymore. They kicked you out without giving you a single penny, and you had no choice but to swallow pills and kill yourself like me!” She finally coughed up blood that sprayed onto my face. I jerked awake, my back soaked in cold sweat.

The moonlight outside the window was like gauze, layer upon layer pressing down on me until I could barely breathe. I clutched my chest and took deep breaths for a while before I felt like I’d come back to life. Ethan, who should have been lying next to me in bed, was nowhere to be seen. The sheets were cold as ice. He’d been gone for quite a while. My mind still echoed with my future self’s desperate screams—that Ethan married me not out of love, but to use me as a shield for his affair with the Johnson family’s foster daughter, Lily. My heart grew cold. This was too much of a coincidence. Ever since Lily came home from college for break and moved into the new house Ethan and I shared, he’d been disappearing at night. I used to ask him where he was going. Ethan would smile and pinch the tip of my nose. “Just going out for a smoke. You have rhinitis and can’t stand the smell, and I can’t bear to make you uncomfortable.” The hand he reached out indeed carried a faint scent of tobacco. Usually at times like this, I’d be deeply moved, thinking Ethan was gentle and considerate. But now… I quietly got up, pushed open the master bedroom door, and approached Lily’s guest room, trying to hear something that would confirm the prophecy my dream-self had given me. There was no sound at all, only the hum of the refrigerator still running in the deep night. “Chloe, what are you doing?” A voice suddenly sounded behind me. I shuddered all over and turned to see Ethan standing in the shadows holding the inner pot of a rice cooker, his expression unclear. I clenched my fists to suppress my heart that nearly jumped out of my chest, and slowly spoke. “I had a nightmare and woke up scared. When I didn’t see you, I came to find you.” “Silly girl, dreams are fake.” Ethan chuckled lightly, walked out from the shadows, and stood in front of me with gentle eyes, raising his hand to ruffle my hair. “At dinner you said you wanted eight-treasure porridge for breakfast. I forgot to set it before bed, and only remembered while smoking in the middle of the night, so I rushed to program the rice cooker for tomorrow’s breakfast. That’s why I was late getting back.” “You go back to bed first. I’ll come back after I put the pot away. Don’t be scared.” I lowered my eyes and indeed saw rice with water added in the rice cooker. Because I didn’t like peanuts, Ethan had even carefully picked out the peanuts that came pre-mixed with the rice. Just a casual remark, yet someone had taken it so seriously to heart. My nose stung, and I felt very guilty. It was just a dream, yet I’d started suspecting my lover of having an affair with his foster sister. Ethan’s kindness to me was the kind that everyone who heard about it would envy. Whenever I needed him, he’d appear by my side immediately—whether I had menstrual cramps or when my car got scratched and a male driver stood outside my car pointing at my nose and cursing. I only needed to call Ethan. “Ethan, I’m so scared.” He would always respond with two words. “Wait for me.” So as long as I was with Ethan, I had endless security. He was also very generous with me. When gold prices were at their highest, I casually mentioned wanting a gold bracelet. The next day, that bracelet would appear on my wrist, along with a matching necklace and ring. When I said it was too expensive, moved, Ethan would hold me and comfort me indulgently. “As long as Chloe is happy, these pieces of jewelry have value.” And in my impression, although Ethan doted on his foster sister Lily, he’d always maintained clear boundaries with her. I’d seen their chat records—they were all very mundane, like his parents calling him home for dinner, or Lily wanting him to bring something home, ending with a “thank you.” When eating at the Johnson house, the shrimp Ethan peeled would first appear in my bowl, with Lily getting the second one. Even when alone together in the same room, every time I pushed open the door, I’d see them sitting far apart. I once jokingly teased them. “Why are you sitting so far apart? You’re not strangers.” Afterward, Ethan pulled me into his arms and explained carefully. “Men and women should maintain distance. What’s more, Lily is just my foster sister—I need to keep even more distance from her. Besides, wouldn’t you be jealous if Lily and I sat close together? Don’t tell me my little jealous baby wouldn’t cry about it later.” My heart warmed, and I pouted, saying I wouldn’t be jealous at all. Lily was also very polite to me. Every time we met, she’d call me “sister-in-law.” Even if she wanted to go out to eat alone with Ethan, she’d tell me in advance. So when she suggested staying at Ethan’s and my new house for a while during her break, I agreed without hesitation. Perhaps dreams and reality really are opposites.

I bit my lip, lifted my head to kiss Ethan on the lips, then nodded while yawning. “Okay, I’ll go back to bed and wait for you.” But the moment I closed the door, my legs gave out and I collapsed on the floor. After a long while, I raised my trembling hand. My fingertip brushed across my lips, where a bit of rose-scented lip balm stuck to it, sticky and nauseating. I didn’t wear lip balm at night, and neither did Ethan. Only Lily, because she was prone to cheilitis, would apply a thick layer of lip balm to her lips every night. That lip balm was even a birthday gift from me. I’d specifically asked Ethan. “What should I get Lily for her birthday? Give me some recommendations.” Ethan had answered without hesitation. “Lip balm. She has cheilitis and needs to use it often.” Then I carefully selected a rose-scented lip balm and gave it to Lily. But I never imagined it would end up on Ethan’s lips today. My heart felt like it was being squeezed. I covered my stomach and dry-heaved a few times, even bringing moisture to the corners of my eyes. But years of feelings still made me immediately reject my own thoughts. I shook my head frantically, murmuring to myself. “It can’t be, it can’t be.” Yet my body stood up and walked toward the master bathroom window, which was very close to the kitchen window. Usually it was closed, but when opened, you could hear sounds from the kitchen. I slowly placed my hand on it. After a long while, I finally worked up the courage to push it open. “Mmm~ Brother.” A suppressed moan reached my ears. The color drained from my face instantly. It was Lily and Ethan. “Lily, if you can’t hold back, you can bite my shoulder.” “Do you… do this with… sister-in-law too?” “Every night… ah… do you… bully people like this?” Lily was clearly being pushed too hard, her voice carrying a sob, yet she was still jealous of me. Ethan gave a muffled laugh. “If it weren’t to keep her from getting suspicious, I wouldn’t even want to touch her. Lily, you’re the only one I like. Once Mom and Dad are too old to control me, I’ll kick Chloe out.” No wonder Ethan only agreed to be with me once a month. No matter how I tried to seduce him the rest of the time, he remained unmoved. I thought he had a low sex drive, but it turned out he was using all his energy on Lily. The things I’d done in the past were like slaps to my face, drowning me in shame and humiliation. “Lily, we’ll be together forever.” Lily answered softly. “Okay, brother, we’ll be together forever.” I dug my nails into my palms until they turned white, yet calmly ended the recording on my phone. In my past life, they not only used me as a shield to avoid suspicion, but also caused the death of me and my child. This couldn’t just be forgotten. I lowered my eyes and stiffly lay back in bed. I don’t know how long passed before someone rustled into bed beside me. I forced down my nausea and kept my eyes open until dawn. Early the next morning, I went to eat the eight-treasure porridge Ethan had used as an excuse, sporting two dark circles under my eyes. The temperature was neither too hot nor too cold—just right for eating. Ethan was always so considerate, which was also why I fell in love with him and was willing to marry him. But this consideration had now become the sharpest knife, cutting me to pieces. I stared blankly at the food in front of me, forcing myself not to cry. “What’s wrong, Chloe? Are you not feeling well? Do you need to go to the hospital?” Ethan leaned over and reached out to feel my forehead. I instinctively dodged and lowered my head to make an excuse. “Last night’s nightmare kept me from sleeping well. It’s nothing, I don’t need to go to the hospital.” As I spoke, Lily opened her door and walked out, though her posture was a bit awkward. This time I knew the reason. Many times before, Lily would stiffen when I touched her. I used to think she didn’t like being touched by people, but now I knew it was because Ethan had loved her too intensely. I didn’t turn my head and continued picking up my chopsticks to stir the eight-treasure porridge in my bowl. Seeing this, Ethan immediately stood up and got a cushion, placing it on the chair. Through the reflection on the kitchen glass door, I saw Lily pinch Ethan’s arm in embarrassment. Ethan immediately raised both hands in surrender and gently rubbed her waist. Only then did Lily give a light huff and sit down. Everything was so natural. Their distance in front of me had all been an act. In places I couldn’t see, the two were intimate and sweet, like a pair of natural lovers. I couldn’t help it—a bitter smile appeared at the corner of my mouth, a self-mocking one aimed at myself. Mocking myself for being fooled like an idiot for so many years, dying unjustly in the end. Even my soul after death couldn’t rest, crossing time to warn myself in a dream to stay away.

“Sister-in-law.” Lily called me sweetly, looking completely innocent. No one would know that last night she was still jealous about her brother’s intimate moments with me. I gave a very light “mm,” and Lily continued speaking. “Sister-in-law, don’t be too nervous. Ethan is a good person. After you get your license today, you’ll definitely be happy together.” Her eyes looked at me brightly. “Mom said that tonight after getting the license, both families’ parents should have dinner together. Uncle and Aunt have already been picked up and brought to the house. Mom said sister-in-law hasn’t replied to her messages, so she asked me to tell you.” Mrs. Johnson. I’d almost forgotten about her, and remembered how more than once, she’d hinted to me. “Chloe, what do you think of Ethan and Lily’s relationship?” At that time, I couldn’t hear the probing behind those words and answered honestly. “Lily and Ethan have a very good relationship and are very proper with boundaries. Mrs. Johnson, your two children are both excellent.” She looked at me for a long time, staring until I felt confused, before nodding lightly. “Yes, they’re both excellent. Chloe, thank you for being willing to marry Ethan.” So she’d known the truth all along and had been testing me repeatedly. Knowing that her foster daughter and son had an unspeakable secret, she still couldn’t bear to send either of them away. Instead, she dragged me into this quagmire, ultimately leading to my death. I gripped my chopsticks tightly, then looked up with a gentle smile on my lips. “Okay, I happen to have a surprise I want to give Uncle and Aunt.” “Mm!” Lily nodded vigorously. After she finished eating, Ethan drove both Lily and me to the civil affairs bureau. When we got out of the car, Lily waved at us. “Ethan, sister-in-law, you go get your license. I’ll wait for you in the car.” Ethan nodded and told her not to wander off, then took my hand into the civil affairs bureau. When taking photos, he cupped my face, his eyes full of tenderness. “Chloe, I’m really so happy.” “We can be together for a lifetime from now on. Live together, die together, never parting until our hair turns white.” I looked into his eyes. My face was clearly smiling, but my throat was filled with countless bitter feelings, choking me until I could barely speak. I desperately bit my tongue to avoid showing anything unusual, and responded lightly. “Mm, never parting until our hair turns white.” Just not with me as the partner. The staff brought over two forms. I filled them out in order, verified them at the window, and Ethan helped me to a seat to rest. “Chloe, you don’t look well. I’ll go get the marriage certificates. Just wait here for me.” My hand gripping his sleeve tightened and loosened repeatedly. After a long while, I finally let go and smiled. “Okay.” I didn’t wait long before Ethan came back with two red booklets. I opened them to look—the official seal was clear, and the photo was the one we’d just taken. Very authentic. But no matter how real a fake looks, it can never be genuine. I lowered my head and suddenly spoke. “Ethan, I want to use the restroom. Can you wait for me in the car?” He agreed without hesitation. Only after I couldn’t see his back anymore did I return to the window with the marriage certificate, determined to see the final truth with my own eyes. I couldn’t give up until then. The staff member took what I handed over and looked at it carefully for a while before stating with certainty. “Although it looks very similar, this marriage certificate is fake. In the system, Mr. Ethan Johnson’s registered spouse is Miss Lily Johnson. Miss Chloe, I think you’ve been deceived.” The staff member looked at me with pity. I felt all the strength drain from my body and slumped in the chair, my face wet—tears were falling uncontrollably. Yes, I’d been deceived. My body felt like it had been torn into pieces by my feelings for Ethan. The pain made my face turn pale, but after the pain came relief and a sense of liberation. At least I wouldn’t be fooled again. The staff member quickly handed me tissues. I thanked them hoarsely, forced myself to calm down, used cold water to reduce the redness in my eyes, and then returned to the car. Ethan drove back to the Johnson house. Mrs. Johnson enthusiastically came up to me, holding my hand and praising me as a good girl. My parents stood behind, looking at us with relief. Mom even wiped the corner of her eye. My throat tightened—I felt I’d let my parents down. This dinner was destined not to go well. She pulled me into the living room. The table was filled with foods I liked to eat—you could tell the Johnson family had put in great effort. After we all sat down, Mr. Johnson raised his wine glass and happily announced. “From today on, the Johnsons and the Parkers are one family!” “In-laws, rest assured, from now on we’ll love Chloe like our own daughter and absolutely won’t let her suffer any grievance.” Mrs. Johnson said with a smile. “If Ethan makes you angry, Chloe, just tell us. Mom and Dad will back you up.” My parents also immediately stood up, smiling and nodding. “It’s Chloe’s blessing to marry Ethan. We just hope that in the future, the young couple will have a happy and fulfilling life.” Lily also congratulated me, but I heard a trace of jealousy in her voice. “Sister-in-law, happy wedding.” Ethan raised his wine glass, looking at me affectionately. “Chloe, from now on, I’ll walk the road ahead with you.” Everyone looked at me, their faces wearing real or fake smiles. Only I sat steadily in my chair, surveying everyone present, and gave a light laugh. “Uncle, Aunt, you’re calling the wrong person.” In the suddenly quiet air, only my voice continued calmly and unhurriedly. “Ethan’s legal wife isn’t me, but your other child—Lily.” As soon as the words fell, a moan came from my phone.

That suppressed moan was exactly what I’d recorded last night by the bathroom window. Ethan’s coaxing, Lily’s moans—in the silent living room, they were particularly jarring. Ethan’s face instantly turned deathly pale. The wine glass in his hand crashed onto the table with a clang. “Chloe! Have you lost your mind? Where did this nonsense come from!” He shot to his feet, his eyes filled only with panic and violence. Lily was scared into trembling all over, her face paler than paper. She grabbed Ethan’s arm hard, her eyes brimming with tears, her voice carrying a sob: “Brother, it’s not true. Sister-in-law is slandering us. We didn’t…” My parents’ faces turned ashen. Dad clenched his fists. Mom stepped forward and grabbed my hand, her voice trembling: “Chloe, what’s going on? Explain this clearly!” Mr. and Mrs. Johnson had also lost their earlier enthusiasm. Mrs. Johnson forced herself to stay calm and sternly rebuked me: “Chloe, stop this nonsense! Ethan and Lily are siblings. How can you fabricate such filthy lies and ruin their reputations!” I gave a cold laugh, released Mom’s hand, pulled the fake marriage certificate from my bag, and slammed it hard on the table. “Nonsense?” I picked up the marriage certificate and flipped to the page with the official seal: “At the civil affairs bureau earlier, the staff clearly told me this is fake! Ethan’s registered spouse in the system is Lily, not me!” I clicked on the recording on my phone again and continued playing it. The later content was even more explicit—Ethan saying “once Mom and Dad are old, I’ll kick Chloe out,” and Lily’s coquettish jealousy, all clearly audible. The living room fell into complete silence. The Johnson family’s faces turned alternately green and white. Mr. Johnson was so angry his whole body shook. He pointed at Ethan, unable to say a word for a long time. Seeing she couldn’t hide it anymore, Lily simply gave up, released Ethan’s arm, and cried out: “So what if it’s true! Brother and I are in love! If you all hadn’t disagreed, we would have been together long ago!” “Chloe is just a shield! A tool you use to deal with outsiders. Why should she get to stand openly by my brother’s side while I have to hide in the shadows?” Ethan stopped pretending too and glared at me viciously: “Chloe, since you know everything, I won’t hide it anymore. Lily and I truly love each other. Marrying you was just a stopgap measure. If you’re smart, you’ll bow out voluntarily. Don’t force me to be rude to you.” Looking at this pair of scum in front of me, I felt nothing but disgust. I raised an eyebrow: “Why should I bow out? You deceived my feelings, used me as a shield, even plotted to kick me out once Mr. and Mrs. Johnson died. Did you really think I was a soft persimmon you could squeeze?” I turned to look at my parents, my eyes reddening: “Mom, Dad, I’m sorry for disappointing you. I almost jumped into this fire pit. But please believe me—today I will get justice.” Dad patted my shoulder, his eyes firm: “Chloe, don’t be afraid. Mom and Dad are here. No one can bully you! The Johnson family deceived you like this—we absolutely won’t let this go!” Seeing this, Mrs. Johnson immediately softened her tone and grabbed my hand pleadingly: “Chloe, Aunt was wrong. We were confused. Please forgive Ethan and Lily just this once, okay? We’ll compensate you. Any amount of money is fine.” I shook off her hand: “I was deceived by you all for so many years. Can money make up for the feelings and sincerity I gave? Seven years from now, you drove me to swallow pills and kill myself. I couldn’t even protect my own child. How will you repay this debt?” This statement was like a thunderbolt, shocking the Johnson family speechless. Ethan’s face changed dramatically: “You… how do you know all this?” I didn’t answer him. I just took out my phone and clicked on the recording I’d prepared earlier. It was the civil affairs bureau staff member’s confirmation, plus the confession I’d just recorded from Lily and Ethan. “Today, either you publicly apologize and compensate me for my emotional damages, or I’ll hand over these recordings and the fake marriage certificate to the media and let everyone see the Johnson family’s true face!”

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My desk was occupied by someone else. On the last day of my maternity leave, I came to the office early to report back. When I pushed open the project department door, a woman with a ponytail was typing at my computer at my workstation. The desk nameplate had been changed. Three words on it—Vivian Moore. Below it was a smaller line: Project Director. Before my maternity leave, I had been Project Manager. I’d never heard this name before. **1.** I stood at the entrance to the project department, carrying the celebration cookies I’d brought for my colleagues. The nameplate was newly made—the plastic cover still had its protective film on. My personal belongings—my mug, photo frame, desk calendar—had been packed into a moving box and tossed in the corner of the break room. A sticky note on the box read “Emma Sullivan · Personal Items · Awaiting Pickup.” The handwriting belonged to Lisa, the receptionist. I didn’t touch the box. I turned and headed to HR. Rachel was inside. The company’s HR Director, in her early forties with pearl earrings, always spoke with a smile. “Emma! You’re here? Sit, sit, sit.” She poured me a glass of water. I said, “Someone else is sitting at my desk.” She smiled slightly. “The company did a restructuring in Q3. Your position was consolidated.” “Consolidated?” “The Horizon Project now reports to Vivian Moore. She’s our new Project Director. Your Project Manager position has been eliminated.” I stared at her. “The employment contract I signed before my maternity leave listed my position as Project Manager.” “Contracts can be amended.” Rachel pulled a document from her drawer and pushed it toward me. “The company has arranged a new position for you—Administrative Support Specialist. Take a look.” I looked down at the transfer agreement. Monthly salary: $6,500. Before my maternity leave, my monthly salary had been $18,000. I said, “My position is Project Manager with a salary of $18,000. It’s clearly stated in my employment contract.” Rachel’s smile faded. “Emma, let me be frank. You’ve been gone for 98 days. The company doesn’t support freeloaders. Projects can’t stop, clients can’t wait. During the three months you were away, the team has established a new rhythm.” She pushed the transfer agreement closer to me. “Administrative Specialist is also a formal position. It’s stable, no overtime, suitable for your current situation.” “What situation?” “You just had a baby.” She smiled. “Managing projects is stressful. What if your milk supply—” I didn’t let her finish. “When did I sign a position change notice?” “Well…” “When did the company consult with me about the transfer?” “We’re consulting now, aren’t we?” “Consulting isn’t notifying me of a decision that’s already been made.” Rachel’s smile remained, but her eyebrow twitched. “Emma, don’t take this so seriously. The transfer is based on the company’s business needs. Look over the agreement and consider it.” I didn’t take the pen. I pushed the agreement back, untouched. “I’ve considered it.” “Yes?” “I’m not signing.” I stood up. Before leaving, I took out my phone, opened the recording app, and pressed pause. The recording had been running since the moment I entered HR. This was a conversation I participated in. I had the right to record it. Walking to the break room, I crouched down and opened the box. My mug was still there. On the bottom of my cup was a small note I’d stuck there before my maternity leave—with the phone number of my college friend, Michelle Chase. Michelle, a labor attorney. During my third trimester, we’d had dinner and she said something: “If the company messes with your position when you return from maternity leave, call me immediately.” I’d laughed at her for being paranoid then. I dialed. She answered after three rings. “Michelle, I’m back from maternity leave. My position is gone.” “Did you record it?” “Yes.” “Did you sign the transfer agreement?” “No.” “Good.” Her voice was steady. “Photograph the agreement and send it to me. I’ll review it tonight and call you back.” After hanging up, I moved the box to the cabinet at the back of the break room. I didn’t take it with me. I walked back to the project department. The woman named Vivian Moore was still typing at my workstation. I didn’t look at her. I opened my phone and logged into the company’s project management system. Horizon Group Smart Logistics Platform Project—the project I’d led for eight months. I clicked on the project details page. The project lead section had a different photo. An unfamiliar face. Below it, the name: Vivian Moore. **2.** I sat in the coffee shop on the ground floor of the office building and took screenshots of the project system pages. Sent them to Michelle. Then sent another message: “I managed this project from initiation to contract signing. $3.8 million.” Michelle replied with three words: “Keep digging.” I opened WhatsApp and searched for the project group chat. “Horizon Group Project Team”—I’d been removed. When I tried to access it, there was only one gray line: “You have been removed from this group by the administrator.” I checked when I’d been removed. April 17th. Day 15 of my maternity leave. That was three days after I’d left the postpartum care center. My phone vibrated. Jenny. Jenny was a junior project manager in the project department. I’d mentored her for six months. Before my maternity leave, she’d helped me follow up on the final payment confirmation for the Horizon Project. The message was brief: “Emma, you’re back? Can we talk?” I replied: “I’m at the coffee shop downstairs.” Five minutes later, she came down. She sat down, stirring her coffee, not looking at me. “Emma, there’s something I don’t know if I should tell you.” “Tell me.” She opened her phone, searched for a while, then pulled up a photo and handed it to me. It was from last Friday’s project review meeting—a photo of the projection screen. The PPT cover read: **Horizon Group Smart Logistics Platform Project Review Report** The bottom right corner credited: Project Director Vivian Moore I said, “Scroll through.” She flipped to page 7. Client pain point analysis diagram. I’d drawn it. A month before my maternity leave, I’d worked from home until 2 AM, creating three versions in Visio before settling on the third. Flipped to page 12. Technical solution comparison matrix. Every vendor’s score, weight, and unit price—I’d filled them in line by line. Flipped to page 23. Project Phase II expansion plan. I’d written this during my last week before maternity leave. I finished at 3 AM. Contractions had already started. Every page had the same credit in the bottom right corner: Vivian Moore. Jenny didn’t dare look at me. “At the review meeting, Vivian presented everything. Deputy Director Anderson sat below, nodding the whole time.” “During the presentation, did she mention my name at all?” Jenny shook her head. “What about the others?” “Nobody mentioned you.” I handed her phone back. “Emma, what are you going to do?” “Can you do me a favor?” “Name it.” “The review meeting PPT—can you get me the electronic file somehow?” Jenny hesitated, then said, “It’s archived in the meeting system. I don’t have access… but I can photograph all the projected slides for you.” “That’s enough.” I continued, “One more thing.” “Yes?” “You’ve worked in the project department for six months. You followed the Horizon Project from initiation to contract signing. You know who wrote the proposal?” “Of course you wrote it.” Jenny said, “Every time we revised the proposal, you sent it to me to verify the data. I still have all the versions you sent in my email.” “Keep those emails safe.” “Emma…” “I’m not asking you to pick sides. I only need one fact—who created this proposal? If one day you need to tell the truth, would you be willing?” Jenny looked at me for three seconds. “Yes.” I got home, nursed the baby, and put her to sleep. I opened my personal email account. Before my maternity leave, I’d forwarded all Horizon Project correspondence to my personal email. Not because I anticipated today. But because after working on a project for eight months, these materials felt like a diary to me. I opened the first email. Date: July 6th, last year. Subject: Horizon Group Smart Logistics Platform Project · Initiation Application. Sender: Emma Sullivan. Recipients: Deputy Director Anderson, CEO Shaw from Horizon Group. This email was dated eight full months before Vivian Moore’s hire date. I opened the last email before my maternity leave. Date: March 12th this year, 2:07 AM. Subject: Horizon Project Phase II Expansion Plan (Final Draft). Sender: Emma Sullivan. Recipient: CEO Shaw, Horizon Group. CC: None. Three days later, I started my maternity leave. I sorted all the emails by timestamp and took screenshots one by one. Then I opened the photos of the projected PPT and looked for the file properties. Jenny had photographed carefully. The file properties showed one line: Created by: Emma Sullivan. Last modified by: Vivian Moore. Modified date: May 20th. Day 35 of my maternity leave. She’d changed my attribution, used my proposal, and reported my achievements. I packaged all the screenshots and sent them to Michelle. Michelle replied ten minutes later: “The evidence chain is basically formed. But I need you to confirm one more thing—can you still log into your company email?” I tried. Password incorrect. Tried again. Account locked by administrator. My heart sank. I immediately opened my personal email and searched for all the forwarded Horizon Project emails. They were all there. Not one missing. But the original emails in my company account were now inaccessible. Someone with administrator privileges had accessed my email. **3.** Michelle said, “You’re certain all the emails you forwarded before maternity leave are intact?” “All there. My personal email has complete forwarding records with complete timestamps.” “Good. Don’t make a fuss about the locked company email yet. You need to do something now—check your company email login records.” “I can’t log in anymore.” “You don’t need to log in. Log into the WhatsApp admin backend and check the operation logs using your employee ID. Your ID hasn’t been deactivated, right?” I tried. My employee ID was still active. I navigated to the company email operation logs. April 18th, 10:14 AM. Operator: System Administrator. Operation: Batch delete emails (filter condition: contains keyword “Horizon”). Number deleted: 47 emails. I stared at that number. 47 emails. From project initiation to contract signing, all correspondence. All deleted. The operator was System Administrator. Only two people in the company had company email administrator privileges—IT Manager Ryan Lee and HR Director Rachel. I took a screenshot. Then scrolled down. April 18th, 10:31 AM. Operator: System Administrator. Operation: Changed password for user “Emma Sullivan.” April 18th, 10:33 AM. Operator: System Administrator. Operation: Locked company email for user “Emma Sullivan.” Seventeen minutes total. Delete emails, change password, lock account. Day 16 of my maternity leave. That morning at ten o’clock, I’d been at the postpartum center changing my baby’s diaper. Michelle said, “Send me the screenshots. This operation record itself is evidence—it shows the other party deliberately destroyed your work trail.” “But the administrator privileges belong to the IT manager and HR. How do I prove who ordered it?” “You don’t need to prove who ordered it. You only need to prove two things: First, 47 work emails were deleted from your company email without your knowledge. Second, your personal email has complete forwarded backups with timestamps earlier than the deletion time.” “What does that prove?” “It proves someone systematically erased your work trail during your maternity leave. Combined with the position adjustment, project attribution changes, and salary reduction, this is a coordinated attack.” I put down my phone. The baby slept peacefully beside me. I picked up a pen and wrote a line in my notebook: “Day 15 of maternity leave: removed from project group. Day 16: email deleted and locked. Day 35: PPT attribution changed. Day 98: workstation gone.” Four timestamps. One line. This wasn’t “restructuring.” This was a pre-planned purge. The next day I went to the company. Didn’t go to the project department. Went straight to the IT department in the administrative building. Ryan was at his workstation. I didn’t mention the email issue. I smiled and said, “Ryan, I can’t log into the system after returning from maternity leave. Could you check my employee ID status?” Ryan clicked his mouse a few times. “Your ID is still active, but your email is locked.” “Who locked it?” Ryan hesitated. “It was an administrator operation. I can’t see from here whose directive it was.” “Did you do it?” He shook his head. “Not me. I was on a business trip for a week during that time. I gave my password to administration.” “Who in administration?” “Someone from Rachel’s team.” I didn’t ask more. I thanked him and left. Downstairs, I documented Ryan’s words in text, noting the date, time, and location. Sent it to Michelle. Michelle replied with one word: “Solid.” That evening, Jenny sent me a new screenshot. It was from an internal department group chat. Date: April 15th. Day 13 of my maternity leave. Deputy Director Anderson had posted a message: “All of Emma Sullivan’s project permissions are transferred to Vivian Moore, effective immediately. All future Horizon Group coordination will be handled by Vivian Moore.” Below, Rachel replied: “Processed.” Further down, Vivian responded with a “received” emoji. In the entire message chain, no one mentioned “whether Emma knows.” No one mentioned “handover.” Nobody @’d me. Because I’d already been removed from that group. **4.** I didn’t act immediately. Michelle said to gather all evidence first and not alert them. I spent three days doing one thing. I compiled all my work from the eight months before maternity leave. Every email, every version of the proposal, every client meeting minutes—I had forwarded backups in my personal email. 47 emails total. Additionally, I pulled up my SnapChat conversation history with CEO Shaw from Horizon Group. From our first meeting to contract signing, all communication was here. CEO Shaw had only worked with one person throughout—me. I didn’t contact CEO Shaw. Not the right time. I was doing something else. I looked up Vivian Moore’s hire date. The company intranet directory still showed it. Vivian Moore, hire date: March 8th. My due date was March 22nd. I started maternity leave on March 15th. Which meant— Vivian Moore was hired during my last week at the office. She was hired while I was still working at the company. I recalled the situation during that last week. March 12th, I sent the Phase II proposal final draft at 2 AM. March 13th, I had my last project briefing with Deputy Director Anderson before maternity leave. That day, Deputy Director Anderson said: “Don’t worry about the project while you’re on leave. I’ll keep an eye on it.” March 14th, I organized handover documents at my workstation. That afternoon, an administrator brought a new person to the project department. Ponytail, polite smile. “This is our new hire, Vivian Moore. She’s getting familiar with the environment.” I nodded at her. Didn’t think much of it. I assumed she was a new project assistant. March 15th, I started maternity leave. Looking back now— Vivian Moore hired March 8th. Deputy Director Anderson tells me on March 13th “I’ll keep an eye on the project.” I leave March 15th. April 15th—day 13 of my leave—Deputy Director Anderson posts in the group that project permissions are transferred to Vivian Moore. April 18th, my email is wiped. May 20th, PPT attribution changed. July 1st, I return. My workstation is gone. The entire timeline was crystal clear. This wasn’t a “temporary arrangement” after I left. This was arranged before I even left. I organized the timeline into a table and sent it to Michelle. Michelle sent back a long message: “This is worse than I anticipated. This isn’t simple maternity leave discrimination. This is premeditated position replacement. They arranged someone to be hired, waited for you to leave, then transferred permissions, deleted traces, changed attributions, and finally forced you to transfer or resign. The evidence chain is sufficient to initiate labor arbitration, but you still need one key piece of evidence—motive. You need to figure out Vivian Moore’s background and why Deputy Director Anderson would do this.” That evening, Jenny sent me another message. “Emma, I found something out.” “What?” “Vivian Moore used to be a project assistant at Prosperity Tech. The VP at Prosperity Tech is college friends with Deputy Director Anderson.” “You’re sure?” “Positive. At the department dinner last month, Vivian got drunk and said it herself. She said she got this job because ‘Director Anderson put in a good word.’” I closed my eyes. Deputy Director Anderson brought in his own person, pushed me out of my position, and used my project achievements to elevate her. I’d been set up. From the day I got pregnant.

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