Category: English

When people gossiped about her, she always said, “I’m running a legitimate business. I earn my money through hard work.” Whenever I argued with her, she would scream, “I must have been blind to marry a useless loser like you!” But it was only because I loved her that I was willing to swallow my pride and play weak. Then the rumors started. People whispered that I was a parasite, living off her money. She chimed in, “Well, they aren’t wrong. I make way more than you do.” The truth was, my entire salary went toward our mortgage and bills, and I even bought her designer bags and clothes. As for her salary? I never saw a single dime of it. She had no idea that six months ago, I was promoted. My new package was a quarter-million dollars a year. I waited. I pamper-fed her through her pregnancy until the day she went into labor. That was the day I blocked her on everything and vanished… “Ethan, man, you really need to keep a leash on your wife.” My best friend warned me again. I just smiled, nodded, and brushed it off. My wife, Chloe, worked as a masseuse at a rather sketchy local spa. My friends had spotted customers getting way too touchy-feeling with her more than once. “Babe, don’t you trust me?” Chloe would ask, wrapping her arms around my neck, her face covered in heavy makeup. I’d just smile back. “Of course I do. You’re just doing your job. I’ve got your back.” Hearing this, Chloe would cuddle into my chest with a smug smile. Despite my quiet support, the rumors about her being a “cheap spa girl” only got worse. *I can’t believe Ethan lets Chloe support him.* *No wonder he doesn’t mind her giving him a neon green hat.* The gossip spread like wildfire. Eventually, everyone we knew began sneering at me, slowly freezing me out of our social circle. “Babe, maybe it’s time to look for a different job?” I suggested to Chloe one evening. “We are doing just fine,” she snapped, her face tightening. “People will talk no matter what. Besides, it’s a fact that I make way more than you.” The rumors were clearly getting to her head. She was starting to look down on me. To her, I was just a low-level office drone making $3,000 a month, while she was bringing home nearly $10,000. One afternoon, after running an errand near her spa, I decided to stop by and surprise her for lunch. “Stop calling me! I’m busy, damn it!” I walked toward her breakroom and called her name. No answer. Just as I reached for the doorknob, her irritated voice cut through the door. I waited outside for about twenty minutes. When Chloe finally stepped out, her hair was a mess, and her blouse was half-unbuttoned. “Oh, so this is your loser husband?” Before I could say a word, a bald man in a flashy suit walked out of the breakroom behind her. Instead of defending me, Chloe put on a sweet, flirty smile. “See you next time, Marcus!” My stomach churned. The appetite I had was completely gone. That night, we had a massive blowout. “I was blind to ever marry a broke loser like you!” Chloe screamed. Just because I asked her to quit that sketchy place, she lost her mind. She claimed I couldn’t afford the lifestyle she wanted. What lifestyle? When had I ever said no to her demands? She slammed the door and left. We didn’t see each other for two weeks. The only text she sent me was: *Let’s get a divorce.* Immediately after, she blocked my number and my Snapchat. I went to her spa to find her, but she refused to see me. I tried to save our marriage, but she was hell-bent on leaving. What else could I do? I agreed to the divorce. But once I agreed, she suddenly went silent. A month later, my phone rang. It was Chloe. “Ethan… I’m pregnant.” Her voice sounded incredibly sweet, almost overflowing with joy. “Really? That’s amazing, babe!” I forced a cheerful tone, but my face was dead cold. Chloe really took me for an idiot. She wanted a scapegoat to take the blame and raise another man’s kid while she kept messing around. “Babe, I’m so sorry about our fights. Actually, I have some good news too. I just got promoted to director. My new package is $250,000 a year. You can quit your job and focus on the baby.” Hearing about the money, Chloe didn’t hesitate. She quit her job the next day and stayed home. During her pregnancy, I treated her like a queen. I hired a private chef and a maid to pamper her. With five gourmet meals a day, her once-slender body quickly ballooned. She was completely intoxicated by this new luxurious life, eagerly waiting for the baby to arrive. Finally, the day came. “Where is the husband? Chloe Miller’s husband! The baby is too big, we need to do an emergency C-section!”

The doctor shouted anxiously in the hallway. I simply smiled, turned around, and walked out of the hospital. “Ethan! Where the hell are you?! I almost died giving birth to your son, and you pull a disappearing act?!” From the moment she popped the baby out, Chloe kept spamming my phone. I didn’t pick up once. A week later, I finally answered. “My son?” I chuckled. Seriously, how did she say that with a straight face? “What do you mean by that?! You have thirty minutes to get your ass over here, Ethan!” Chloe screamed through the receiver. I knew exactly why she was panicking. She didn’t even have the money to pay her hospital bills. “Sure. But while we’re at it, let’s run a DNA test to see whose kid that actually is.” The line went dead silent. I knew she was guilty. A few minutes after I hung up, she called back, her voice completely changed—soft and whimpering. “Babe… I know you still love me. Can we please just talk?” She was playing nice now. But I wasn’t an idiot. Raise another man’s kid? No way. “Sure,” I said smoothly. But instead of going to the hospital, I drove straight back to my office. On the way, I thought about how we met. An acquaintance had introduced us. Back then, she was just a certified pediatric massage therapist. We dated for a year before getting married. After the wedding, someone lured her into that shady spa. I didn’t find out until my friend told me. We had a huge fight about it. To convince me, she brainwashed me every day, even taking me to the spa to prove it was a “clean, professional business.” Just when I was about to believe her, I caught her in a lie. From that day on, I stopped trusting her. I hid my real income and never told her about my promotion. I gave her chances. I tried to pull her back. But she took my love as a license to play me for a fool. “Ethan, you are not a real man!” When I got home, Chloe was sitting in my living room, holding the baby. “So raising another man’s kid makes me a man?” I pulled off my tie and sat on the couch. “Ethan, I know you still love me. Can we just start over? If you love me, you have to accept my son too.” So, she was finally admitting it wasn’t mine. Looking at her now, easily weighing 180 pounds, I found the whole thing hilarious. “When I loved you, you treated me like trash. Now that I don’t, it’s over. I signed the divorce papers you wanted a month ago. Here.” I threw the papers on the coffee table. “No! You can’t do this to me!” she shrieked, losing her mind. “Why not? Am I supposed to just keep wearing the green hat you gave me?” If she wouldn’t sign them quietly, I’d let my lawyers handle it. Chloe knew she wouldn’t get a single penny if we went to court. She might even have to pay me back for all the money she spent. “Ethan, do you really have to be this cruel?” Chloe fell to her knees, grabbing my hand, tears streaming down her face. Disgusted, I shook her off. “If you don’t want to see this baby, I can give him away! Just don’t divorce me!” she cried, grabbing my leg. She was crying so loudly that the baby woke up, screaming at the top of his lungs. Annoyed, Chloe didn’t even look at the child. She just tossed him carelessly onto the couch. “Get out,” I said coldly. “Ethan! Even if we divorce, I’m entitled to half of everything! This house is half mine! I’m not going anywhere!”

Chloe stood up, pointing a finger at my face and screaming. In a normal marriage, yes, she might have a claim. But before we got married, she insisted on signing a prenuptial agreement because she was terrified she’d have to help me pay off my mortgage. “Then go ahead and sue me.” I grabbed her and the baby and pushed them both out of the door. But Chloe didn’t leave. She stood in the middle of our gated community, wailing at the top of her lungs about how heartless I was for kicking a woman and her newborn out just a week after she gave birth. Soon, a group of nosy older neighbors—classic Karens—couldn’t stand it anymore. They rallied behind Chloe and marched right up to my door. “You are a heartless monster! Abandoning your wife and newborn baby? karma will get you!” “She hasn’t even recovered from giving birth yet, and you throw her on the street?!” The moment I opened the door, the older women started barking at me. “Young man, marriage is about compromise. Don’t be so petty!” one of them lectured. “Oh really? What did she tell you guys?” I asked, genuinely curious about how Chloe had manipulated them. “You young people have such weird appetites. She literally just gave birth, of course she can’t sleep with you yet!” another lady chimed in. I almost burst out laughing. “Ethan, can we please just wait until I’m fully recovered?” Chloe whimpered, dropping hints to keep up the lie. “Ma’am,” I looked at the lead Karen. “If your daughter-in-law cheated on your son and tried to make him raise another man’s baby, would you still tell him to compromise?” The crowd went dead silent. “What?” The ladies blinked, completely stunned. Chloe’s face went pale. She hadn’t expected me to air our dirty laundry in public. “The baby isn’t mine. And we are already getting a divorce,” I stated clearly. “No! I didn’t sign those papers! You can’t just kick me out!” Chloe screamed. I had tried to give her a dignified exit, but she threw it away. “The house is my pre-marital asset. And before we got married, you were the one who insisted on a prenup. Did you forget?” The neighbors looked at each other, realizing they had been played. In America, nothing turns a crowd faster than finding out they supported a cheating gold-digger. “Oh my god, how shameless…” “Let’s go. Why are we defending a liar? You reap what you sow.” The crowd dispersed in seconds. Chloe slumped to the ground, holding the baby and crying hysterically. I closed the door and called security to have her removed for trespassing. Since she couldn’t show her face in our neighborhood anymore, she decided to bring the drama to my office. With so many corporate employees around, gossip traveled faster than light. *No way. Is Ethan really that kind of guy?* *He probably got rich and wanted to dump his wife.* By the time I arrived at work, the office was buzzing with rumors. I was used to it. After all, they used to whisper that I was a freeloader living off her. “Ethan, you bastard! You want to ruin my life? I’ll drag you down with me!” Chloe screamed in the lobby, drawing a massive crowd. I couldn’t just ignore this anymore. It was damaging my reputation and the company’s image. I signaled my assistant to get the files ready. Chloe thought I had no proof. She thought that if she made enough noise, I’d get fired. She miscalculated. “Chloe, this is your last warning. Stop this, leave, and take this $15,000.” I threw a check at her feet. “You think $15,000 is going to make me go away?! No way! You’re scared now, aren’t you, Ethan? Too late! I’m taking you down to hell with me!” Chloe threw the check back at my face, screaming like a lunatic. I had given her a chance. The surrounding crowd pressed closer, eager for more drama. Seeing my silence, Chloe grew bolder. She sat on the floor, ignoring the baby’s loud crying, and glared at me with pure venom. Suddenly, the giant presentation screen in the lobby flickered to life. A video started playing. *“Ooh, gentler, baby… you’re hurting me.”* *“You little slut. Aren’t you afraid your loser husband will find out?”*

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At our high school reunion, my wife’s first love looked me dead in the eye and asked, with a smug, teasing smile, “If Ethan and I had pursued you at the same time back then, Chloe, who would you have chosen?” To everyone’s absolute shock, my wife replied, “I would have chosen you.” The entire room went dead silent. Everyone stared at me. Right then, I decided to let them be together. I would let her pay the ultimate price of her entire life to finally see who this man really was. The reunion was in full swing in the grand ballroom of a luxury hotel. I looked around, watching my old classmates cluster together, laughing about the good old days and bragging about their current lives. I sat on a couch in the corner, holding a glass of scotch, my eyes searching the crowd for Chloe. When I finally spotted her, she was giggling and whispering with Marcus. A sharp, unnameable sting pierced my chest. I stood up and walked toward them. As I got closer, I heard Marcus telling her, “Chloe, you were our high school Prom Queen back then, and honestly? You’re still just as gorgeous today.” Chloe blushed, looking away shyly. “Stop it. I’m getting old.” Marcus looked at her with intense, lingering affection. “If you could do it all over again, would you marry me instead?” “Yes.” Chloe murmured the word, then lowered her head, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Hearing that, a bitter taste filled my mouth. I stepped into their space and cleared my throat loudly, cutting off their little moment. Both Chloe and Marcus snapped their heads toward me. When Chloe saw it was me, a flicker of panic flashed across her face. Marcus, on the other hand, just smirked mockingly. “Oh, you’re here,” Chloe stammered, trying to ease the tension. I looked at her, my voice cold. “Yeah, I’m here. I couldn’t miss our Prom Queen having such a great time with her ex, could I?” Marcus let out a soft laugh. “What? Are you jealous, Ethan? Relax, man. Chloe and I are just two old friends catching up.” I glared at him and scoffed. “Catching up? Does catching up require leaning in that close? If people didn’t know better, they’d think you two were the ones married.” Marcus stood up, confronting me face-to-face. “Watch your mouth, Ethan. Chloe and I are completely innocent. You, on the other hand, are just insecure. You don’t even have the most basic trust in your own wife.” His words set my temper ablaze. “I’m insecure? You two are practically sitting in each other’s laps, and the whole class is watching. Do you think everyone here is stupid, or just blind?” By now, the surrounding classmates had turned to look at us, whispering and pointing. Chloe stood up too, trying to play peacemaker. “Guys, come on. We’re all old friends. Let’s not ruin the night.” But neither Marcus nor I was backing down. We were both furious. Marcus seized the opportunity to play the victim. “Look at him, everyone! This is how petty he is. He doesn’t even trust his own wife.” Hearing him say “wife” only made me angrier. “Wife? Oh, so you know she’s my wife? Then why the hell are you hitting on her right in front of me?” Marcus faked a look of pure innocence. “Hitting on her? You need proof before you make accusations, man. Chloe and I were just having a normal conversation.” Chloe stood there awkwardly. She wanted to defend me, but she also didn’t want to offend her wealthy old classmates. She gently tugged at my sleeve. “Ethan, let’s just go home.” But I was too far gone. I brushed her hand off. “Go home? For what? At a reunion, this asshole is practically wrapping his arms around my wife, asking if you’d marry him if you could do it over, and you freaking said *yes*! If I tolerate this, am I even a man? Ask any guy in this room—who would put up with this shit?” Our shouting match grew louder. The crowd was buzzing. Some tried to intervene, some were just enjoying the drama, and a few even pulled out their phones to record. Marcus suddenly smirked. “Since you don’t trust Chloe anyway, why don’t you just divorce her? I’m sure once she leaves you, she’ll find a much better home.” My vision went red. I grabbed a nearby chair, ready to smash it over his head, but Tyler and a few other guys rushed in and held me back. Marcus didn’t even flinch. He just laughed. “You make barely forty grand a year at your dead-end desk job. Go home and buy a dog, or marry some ugly loser. What can you even give Chloe? I can give her the life she actually deserves. Houses, sports cars, black cards—whatever she wants.” Pure rage consumed me. I broke free and swung a fist at his face. But he was quick. He dodged it and punched me right back in the jaw. We clashed, tumbling to the floor. The rest of the guys scrambled to pull us apart. Chloe was frantic, pacing around and crying, but she was completely useless. It took four guys to finally drag us away from each other. I gave Marcus one last death glare and stormed out of the ballroom. Chloe reluctantly followed me, while Marcus shouted behind us, “Ethan! Chloe is going to be mine sooner or later! A broke loser like you doesn’t stand a chance!”

After we got home, Chloe and I entered a brutal cold war. I couldn’t accept what she and Marcus had done, and I honestly didn’t know how to look at her anymore. In the days that followed, Chloe’s phone rang constantly. Every time she answered, she would immediately walk into another room to avoid me. Eventually, she started putting on heavy makeup and going out late at night. One evening, unable to take it anymore, I tried to bring it up casually over dinner. “Chloe, you’ve been talking to Marcus a lot lately.” Chloe avoided my gaze, picking at her food. “Oh. He just texts me occasionally to chat.” “You know what happened between us. That ‘occasional’ texting seems to be taking up most of your day.” “Fine. I’ll stop talking to him.” Her response was flat, devoid of any real explanation. She shut down the conversation so fast that I couldn’t even say anything else. But I knew she was lying. Whenever she was home and had a free moment, she would lock herself in the bedroom. The second I walked in, she would pretend to be asleep. As time went on, her attitude toward me grew colder and colder, yet the moment her phone rang, her voice would light up with excitement. Finally, I hit my breaking point. I decided to do some digging. I needed to know exactly how far they had gone. One night, while Chloe was in the shower, I snuck over and unlocked her phone. Their Snapchat history was overflowing. The messages were incredibly intimate, filled with flirting and dirty talk. Worse, they were actively plotting how to get her to divorce me. This entire cold-shoulder routine? It was Marcus’s idea to force me to call it quits. My hands shook, and a raging fire burned in my chest. I couldn’t believe it. My own wife was actively conspiring against me with another man. In a fit of blind rage, I grabbed my keys, got into my car, and drove straight to Marcus’s apartment. When I found him, he was just about to leave his building. I slammed him against the wall, grabbing him by the collar. “Stay the hell away from Chloe! Don’t make me kill you.” Marcus didn’t look scared at all. He just looked at me with pure pitiless contempt. “Ethan, you’re pathetic. You can’t satisfy Chloe. You can’t give her real happiness.” “Shut your mouth!” I roared, throwing a hard punch right into his cheek. He dodged the brunt of it, grabbed my arm, and twisted it back. “Ethan, you’re a loser. Chloe stopped loving you a long time ago. She’s only staying with you because she pities you.” We fought like wild animals, kicking and punching our way from the lobby out onto the sidewalk. The neighbors heard the commotion and came out to watch. Someone called the cops. Within minutes, sirens wailed, and the police arrived, dragging both of us away—bloody, bruised, and handcuffed—to the local precinct. Sitting in the cold holding cell, the adrenaline wore off, and a chilling calm washed over me. I began to reflect on my marriage with Chloe. Maybe Marcus was right. I couldn’t give her the lavish lifestyle she craved. You can’t keep a heart that wants to leave. Why force it? Letting go was probably the best option. It was past midnight when Chloe finally showed up at the precinct. She bailed me out. We didn’t say a single word to each other on the drive home. The moment we walked through our front door, the suffocating silence exploded. “Why would you do that?” I demanded, my voice shaking with raw hurt. “Do you have any idea how much you and Marcus are destroying me?” But Chloe was unnervingly calm. “Ethan, you’ve never truly understood me. Do you even know what I want? Do you have any clue what goes on in my mind? Marcus gets me. He knows what I need.” Her words felt like a knife twisting in my heart. I had given her everything, and this was what I got. “So, you chose to betray me? To be with him?” Chloe stayed silent. But her silence was all the answer I needed. My devotion, my effort, my humble attempt to love her—it was all completely worthless to her. Suddenly, I burst into a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. I walked toward the study. “Go to him then. I’m done caring.” Before shutting the door, I poked my head back out. “By the way, let’s find a time to get a divorce. I’m setting you free.” Chloe gasped, staring at me with a complex mix of shock and confusion. I slept in the study that night. Shortly after I turned off the lights, I heard the front door click shut. She had gone to him. I smiled mockingly in the dark. Lying on the small sofa, tears silently rolled down my face. I told myself: *Just for tonight, let me be a coward.*

After that night, I threw myself entirely into my work. A few days later, a cousin of mine suddenly sent me a message: “Ethan, why is Chloe going around asking everyone in the family for loans? Did something happen to you guys?” I was shocked. I immediately sent a mass Snapchat message to all my relatives and friends: *Do not lend Chloe any money.* Then, I dialed her number. The moment she picked up, I suppressed my anger and demanded, “Why are you borrowing money from my family?” “I have an emergency,” Chloe replied, her tone icy and condescending. “This is a personal loan. It has nothing to do with you. And don’t worry, when I get rich off this, it won’t have anything to do with you either.” “Are you investing in something? Don’t let Marcus scam you!” I said urgently. “Yes, I invested in his new project. But that’s because I believe in his capability. It’s a high-yield opportunity. Not everyone is like you, Ethan, spending their whole lives working a miserable job. You call it ‘hard work,’ but honestly, it’s just slave labor.” “High-yield? Chloe, you know exactly how much savings we have. High-yield means high risk. It’s a scam!” My voice cracked with genuine worry. She dismissed me with a scoff. “No risk, no reward, Ethan. You can’t be a coward your whole life.” She hung up on me. But the dread in my stomach only grew. I decided to look into Marcus myself. I was done with Chloe, but I wasn’t going to let that bastard steal my hard-earned marital assets. Over the next few days, I used every connection I had to investigate Marcus’s background. As it turned out, his so-called “high-yield” project was nothing but a textbook Ponzi scheme. He was using money from new investors to pay off older ones, creating a fake illusion of high returns. And Chloe had not only dumped our entire joint savings into it, but she had also taken out massive loans from her friends and family. I felt like I had been struck by lightning. To protect whatever assets I had left, I went looking for them. I “coincidentally” ran into Chloe and Marcus at a high-end mall. They were holding hands, browsing the jewelry section of Tiffany & Co. like a blissful, wealthy couple. I couldn’t control myself. I marched right up and blocked their path. “Chloe, do you have any idea this guy is scamming you?” I yelled, pointing directly at Marcus. Chloe looked like I had poked a raw nerve. She instantly flared up. “Ethan, who the hell do you think you are? Marcus is a brilliant businessman! His project is fully vetted!” “Vetted? Vetted to steal people’s money?” My voice echoed through the department store, drawing stares from other shoppers. Marcus stood by, a smug, entertained grin on his face, as if watching a comedy show that had nothing to do with him. In that moment, I realized Chloe was completely brainwashed by his sweet talk. Anything I said would just sound like bitter jealousy. “Chloe, wake up! This man is using you!” I practically screamed. But she only gave me a look of pure disgust, took Marcus’s hand, and walked away without looking back. I felt a profound sense of helplessness. She was too far gone. When I got home, I sat quietly on the living room couch, waiting for her. The moment she walked through the door, I looked up. “Let’s get a divorce.” She froze, clearly not expecting me to pull the trigger so fast. “Ethan… what did you say?” her voice trembled.

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The day I was crushed to death by a semi-truck, my husband was busy walking his childhood sweetheart to her new job. He wouldn’t even pick up my emergency calls! At the crash site, he wrapped his arm around her, looked at my mangled, bloody body, and said, “I wish it was Chloe who died. Then she’d finally stop annoying me.” Later, my best friend crashed his engagement party to find me, but he turned around and reported my dead body to the police! *Bang!* I felt my soul rip out of my body. Suddenly, a crowd of bystanders swarmed the street. I turned around. Sure enough, there was another “me” lying on the cold asphalt. I desperately tried to throw myself back into my body, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t merge with it. Then the police arrived. They pronounced me dead on the spot. “Chief, I found a phone next to the victim!” “Call her family! Tell them to come and claim the body!” Before I could watch any longer, a strange force suddenly dragged me away. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing right next to Ethan. He was gently helping his childhood sweetheart, Vivian, out of his car. So, while I was being crushed to death, he was with Vivian the entire time. Why could he be so incredibly gentle to her, yet tell me to go die over the phone? “Ethan, you got what you wanted. The moment you hung up on me, I actually died.” Suddenly, Ethan’s phone lit up. But the moment he saw my contact name, he swiped decline without a second thought. “Ethan, pick up the phone! I’ve been in a car crash!” “Pick up, Ethan! I’m dead!” No matter how hysterically I screamed and thrashed beside him, he didn’t react at all. Only then did it hit me. I was just a ghost. No one here could see or hear me, including Ethan… Vivian trembled and threw herself into Ethan’s arms. “Ethan, I’m so scared. There looks like a horrible accident up ahead.” His phone rang again. This time, Ethan shut it off completely, his expression ice-cold. He held Vivian close, looking over at the bloody crash site in the distance, and muttered, “I wish it was Chloe who died. Then she’d finally stop annoying me.” It turned out that after five years together, he hated me this much. He truly wished for my death. I froze. The bitter smile on my face slowly faded, and my heart turned to ash. “You got your wish, Ethan! The person dead in that crash is me! I’ll never bother you again!” I watched the paramedics lift my body into the ambulance. I wanted to go with them, to accompany my physical self on her final journey, but that weird, magnetic pull kept me locked right by Ethan’s side. Actually, when Ethan and I first got married, we were very close. Back then, Ethan was twenty-five, fresh out of college. To secure his grip on Carter Group, he agreed to the family-pressured marriage between the Vance and Carter families. But as the Vance family’s business declined, Ethan’s attitude toward me grew colder by the day. Hoping for a peaceful ending, I had prepared a beautiful dinner yesterday and went to his office to celebrate his birthday with him one last time. But the moment I stepped inside, Ethan grabbed me by the neck and slammed me against the wall. “Chloe, what right do you have to come to my company? Stop acting so pathetic! If my mother hadn’t forced me to marry you, a cheap girl like you wouldn’t even be fit to wipe my shoes!” He let go of me and practically threw me out the door. “I’m giving you one last day. Pack your trash and get out of my house!” Just before the heavy oak door slammed shut, his cold words pierced my heart one last time. “And if you know what’s good for you, sign those divorce papers immediately!” Recalling this, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. I reached up to wipe away tears that could no longer fall. “Ethan, did you know? I already signed the divorce papers yesterday. The doctor told me I have leukemia. I only had a few days left anyway.”

Vivian looked up at Ethan with adoration in her eyes. “Ethan, the traffic is so bad. It looks like we’re going to be late. What should I do? It’s only my second day working at your company. If I’m late, I don’t know what the others will say behind my back!” Ethan replied, “I’m the CEO. Who dares say anything? If you hear even a whisper of gossip, come tell me immediately.” Vivian wrapped her arms tightly around him, beaming. “Ethan, you’re the best!” So, he had hired Vivian at his company. No wonder he was so furious when I showed up yesterday. He was probably terrified my presence would make people realize his precious childhood sweetheart was just a home-wrecker. As my corpse was driven away, traffic slowly cleared. Ethan and Vivian got back into the car. He walked her all the way to her department. Vivian playfully pushed him toward the door, giggling, “Go on, get back to work. No one’s going to bully me. If you stay any longer, people are going to say I only got this job through the back door!” After pushing him out, she waved cutely before shutting the door. But the moment the door closed, her sweet expression vanished. “Chloe Vance…” I heard her mumble my name. I wanted to stay and hear what she was up to, but as Ethan walked away, the invisible rope jerked me violently back to his side. Back in his office, Ethan buried himself in work. His assistant, Leo, knocked and walked in. “Sir, a package was delivered from your house.” As Ethan reached for it, my eyes fell on his ring finger. There was a faint, pale band where his wedding ring used to be. Right. We were getting divorced. What right did I have to care if he took off his ring? Besides, I was dead. Why did I still care? Ethan tore the package open, his face grim. I bet he thought I was playing another game to get his attention. But when the papers slid out and the bold words “Divorce Agreement” met his eyes, his brows furrowed deeply. As he scrolled down and saw that I had requested zero alimony, his face turned incredibly dark. By the time he reached the end and saw my signature, pure rage flared in his eyes. He slammed the papers onto his desk. … Before I could figure out why he was so angry, Vivian walked in unannounced. “Ethan, it’s lunchtime. Let’s get food! Your stomach is sensitive. If you don’t eat on time, you’ll get a terrible stomachache!” Then she noticed the papers scattered on the desk. “Ethan, what’s wrong?” Ethan glanced at the papers, grabbed his suit jacket from his chair, and wrapped his hand around Vivian’s waist. “It’s nothing. Just some trash. I’ll have the janitor throw it away.” Vivian linked her arm with his. “Where are we going to eat?” Ethan said, “Let’s go to Bistro Moderne. It’s your favorite.” My heart felt like it had been struck by a sledgehammer. Bistro Moderne… He had never taken me there. He always told me it was overpriced and overrated. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford it. I just wasn’t worth it to him. I smiled bitterly. As they walked out, I was dragged along behind them like a dog on a leash. Ethan kept his hand intimately on Vivian’s waist as they entered the restaurant. He pulled out her chair like a perfect gentleman and ordered all her favorite dishes. “Ethan, you actually remember what I like!”

Vivian smiled, and Ethan said softly, “Of course I do. But you have a sore throat today, so we’re keeping it bland.” So, he did know how to care for someone with a throat issue. Then why, when I had severe laryngitis last year, did he order a table full of spicy food and tell me to stop being dramatic and starve if I didn’t want to eat? He wasn’t incapable of caring. He just didn’t care about me. “Ethan, you’re so sweet. Chloe must be so happy to be married to you.” Vivian’s eyes suddenly dimmed. “I missed your wedding because I was sent abroad for therapy. I want to toast to you and Chloe with this water. I hope you two grow old together.” Ha. Happy? The only person who got to experience his kindness was her. And besides, I was already dead. How could we grow old together? “Why bring up an outsider during lunch? It ruins my appetite,” Ethan said coldly. Even though I was dead, and even though I had signed those papers, hearing him call me an “outsider” still sent a sharp pang through my chest. Vivian looked down, acting guilty. “Ethan, if Chloe finds out we had lunch together, she won’t be mad, will she?” “She has no right to be mad. Besides, we’re getting divorced anyway.” Standing beside him, I stared at the disgust in his eyes and let out a mocking laugh. *Ethan, I’m already dead. You can go straight to the courthouse and file for a death certificate.* I saw the triumphant smile Vivian couldn’t quite hide. “Really? Then we…” Suddenly, a waiter walked over. “Excuse me, sir, miss. We have a couple’s promotion today. If you take a romantic photo together, you get fifty percent off. Would you like to participate?” “Yes!” Vivian said. “No,” Ethan said simultaneously. I didn’t understand why he refused. Wasn’t he desperate to divorce me so they could be together publicly? While I was wondering, Vivian leaned in and kissed his cheek. Ethan froze for a second, then gently pulled her back into her seat. He leaned down and whispered, “Let me handle the situation with Chloe first. I don’t want people calling you a home-wrecker who stole someone else’s husband.” So that was the difference between love and indifference. When Vivian suddenly left the country five years ago, Ethan and I got married shortly after. Everyone in our social circle rumored that I had stolen him. I begged him to clarify things. But he had only said, *“Why care what they think? We’re the ones living our lives.”* Vivian blushed and smiled. “Okay! Then, Ethan, can we throw a little party tonight? To celebrate you becoming single again?” Looking at her eager face, Ethan hesitated for a moment before agreeing. Indeed, I was the only obstacle between them. Even before the divorce was official, they couldn’t wait to celebrate. … That night. Ethan held Vivian’s hand as they walked into the Hilton. They looked exactly like a deeply in-love couple. I didn’t want to watch them be intimate. But every time I tried to step away, the invisible force would yank me back, forcing me to stand right next to him. Ethan pushed open the VIP lounge door. Suddenly, party poppers went off, showering them in confetti and rose petals. Look at that. We didn’t even have this at our wedding. Looking at the beautiful couple standing together, it felt as if I were the villain who had wrongfully kept them apart for five years.

All night, Ethan accepted every drink offered to him. He didn’t stop smiling. It seemed that finally getting rid of me and being with the woman he loved made him truly happy. After a few drinks, Vivian seemed drunk. She leaned heavily against his chest. Seeing her struggle, Ethan excused them early and took her upstairs to a hotel suite. They fell onto the bed together. Vivian wrapped her arms around his neck. “Ethan, don’t leave me tonight.” I thought they were finally going to cross that line. But to my surprise, Ethan paused. He gently removed her hands. “Vivian, don’t.” He actually rejected her? Why? Before I could process my shock, Ethan gave the answer. “Be good. We aren’t officially together yet. I don’t want to ruin you.” How hilarious. When he wanted to sleep with me before we got married and I refused, what did he say? He called me prude and said we were getting married anyway, so what did it matter? That was the difference between love and lust. Suddenly, Ethan’s phone rang. His brows knit together when he saw the caller ID, and he instantly hung up. But the caller was persistent, calling back over and over. Annoyed, Ethan shut his phone off completely. A few minutes later, there was a furious banging on the hotel room door, accompanied by a screaming voice. “Ethan Carter! Don’t you dare hide in there! I know you’re in there with that bitch! You have the balls to play around, but you don’t have the balls to open the door?!”

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On my wedding day, a video of a girl about to commit suicide popped up on the big screen. And just like that, my groom ran out on me. That girl was his “white moonlight”—his precious ex. He said, “Chloe, we can have our wedding anytime, but her life is on the line.” Later, he literally cried his eyes out, begging me: “Baby, please give me another chance.” “Baby? You should call me Aunt Chloe!” Under the dazzling spotlights, I held my father’s arm, dragging the long train of my white wedding gown as I walked slowly onto the stage. At that moment, I was still fantasizing about our beautiful future together. But just as the officiant was about to start the vows, a girl suddenly appeared on the giant projector screen. “Ethan, I regret it. Please don’t leave me. Without you, my life has no meaning.” Gasps echoed through the crowd. In the video, the girl held a razor blade and slashed her own wrist. Ethan immediately let go of my hand. He turned to leave. “Ethan?” My eyes welled with tears as I called out to him. I didn’t want him to abandon me for another woman. “Chloe, we can have our wedding anytime, but her life is on the line.” With that, he left me standing there, running out of the venue without even looking back. In this gorgeous, lavish hall, I had become a laughingstock. I looked at the whispering guests below the stage. I snatched the microphone from the host. “Is there anyone in this room willing to marry me today?” I was probably losing my mind. Actually, no—I was just driven mad by Ethan’s sheer disrespect. I have the looks, the body, and a degree from a top-tier Ivy League business school. Why on earth should I act like he was my only choice? Our relationship wasn’t some epic love story. Our families had been doing business together for years and wanted to merge our empires through us. When I first met Ethan, I thought he was exactly my type. Six months later, he asked me out, and we naturally transitioned into a relationship. The entire hall fell dead silent. My parents, terrified that I was having a breakdown, rushed up to pull me back. I turned my head and noticed a devastatingly handsome man sitting in the corner, staring at me with cold, piercing eyes. “Damian Vance-Cole, would you marry me? Right now, today…” I shook off my parents’ hands, holding the mic tight as I walked toward him. He was Ethan’s young uncle. Though he was only five years older than me, he had already taken complete control of the Cole Group. The silence in the room grew almost suffocating. I stood tall, biting my lip as I locked eyes with Damian. Just when everyone was waiting to see me humiliate myself, Damian stood up. He walked over and took the microphone from my hand. “Miss Vance, it would be my honor. Let’s spend the rest of our lives together.” The moment the words left his mouth, the crowd went wild with disbelief. The Miller family, embarrassed out of their minds, spat out some angry words and stormed out of the hall. The rest of the wedding was a chaotic blur. My family wrapped things up in utter awkwardness. That night, out of pure spite, I went home with Damian. But the second we stepped into his mansion, regret washed over me. I barely even knew him. Sensing my discomfort, Damian told me I could have the master bedroom while he took the guest room. “Wait…” I called out to him. I wanted to explain my impulsive behavior. Damian seemed to understand. He gently patted my head and told me not to overthink it. Since we hadn’t signed the marriage papers yet, today was just a show. If I wanted to back out later, I could just tell him. I was stunned. Why didn’t he care about his own reputation? Why did he help me? All he said was that he would give me an answer in a month, and then he left. A million questions kept me awake all night. My brain kept replaying everything that had happened with Ethan. The next morning, Damian had already left for work. He left a note on the table. *I might be a bit late tonight. If you’re bored, feel free to visit your parents. I’ll pick you up after work.* He wrote his phone number at the bottom. For the first time, I felt like this marriage wasn’t such a bad idea after all. I took a cab back to my parents’ house. As soon as I walked in, I saw the anger on their faces. I thought they were mad at me for going home with Damian. But then I found out the Millers were actually using my “sudden marriage” as an excuse to demand compensation for their losses. They were even threatening to pull out of our business partnerships. So, Ethan was allowed to run off to save his precious ex, but I wasn’t allowed to find someone else? I talked to my dad and decided we should cut all ties with the Millers. In all our years of partnership, they were always the ones leeching off us anyway.

When the Millers realized we were actually serious about cutting them off, they panicked. That was when Ethan finally showed up after vanishing for days. “Chloe, you can hit me, you can scream at me, just don’t ignore me.” Seeing that I wasn’t responding, Ethan started playing the victim, reaching out to grab me. He kept pestering me, trying to block my path. I dodged him twice. “Chloe, you weren’t like this before. You wouldn’t even hurt an ant, yet a girl’s life was on the line! I know you can understand why I had to go, right?” Looking at him, I felt physically sick. My friends had already snapchatted me the truth. Ethan had spent the last few days constantly by Hailey’s side. If my father hadn’t threatened to cancel our contracts, I bet I wouldn’t have seen Ethan for the rest of my life. “Baby, give me another chance. I promise our next wedding will be way bigger and better.” Ethan grabbed my wrist, squeezing it tightly. “Baby? According to family ranking, you should be calling me Aunt Chloe.” I couldn’t shake him off, and my anger was boiling over. He abandoned me in front of everyone, and now he wanted forgiveness? Did he think I was some kind of saint? “Stop playing around. Damian is not a good guy. Don’t do this just to spite me.” Before he could finish, his phone started buzzing crazily in his pocket. I caught a glimpse of the caller ID. It was Hailey. He let go of me, mumbled that he would come back tomorrow, and rushed off to his car before I could even reply. I let out a cold laugh. That was the second time he had abandoned me for that woman. Originally, I had taken a six-month sabbatical for our honeymoon. Now, that was obviously off the table. Since our “wedding,” Damian had given me total freedom. He shared his schedule with me every single day and never pried into what I was doing. Whatever I wanted to do, he backed me up 100%. I was starting to think Damian was actually a great catch. A week later, I went back to work. The moment I sat down, the receptionist called, saying a Mr. Miller had sent a bouquet of flowers and asked if she should bring them up. I told her to reject any deliveries from him and never let him into the building again. But I underestimated how thick-skinned Ethan was. He actually went to the parking garage to corner me. Seeing him now only made me feel disgusted. There’s a saying that comparison is the thief of joy, but in this case, comparing Ethan to Damian only proved that Damian was lightyears better. “Chloe, how long are you going to keep this silent treatment up? Hailey and I are just friends. If your friend was in danger, would you just stand by and watch?” Ethan chased after me, desperately trying to explain. I had already blocked his number and Snapchat. “What does that have to do with me?” I scoffed. What was he so frantic about? “You’re the woman I want to spend my life with! I just want you to understand me, not let these little misunderstandings ruin us.” Little misunderstandings? To him, me being publicly humiliated at my own wedding was a “little thing”? His running off to his ex was a “misunderstanding”? Our values were so misaligned we couldn’t even speak the same language. Suddenly, Damian’s sleek black car pulled up right in front of us. Ethan instinctively took two steps back. I immediately hopped into the passenger seat, eager to escape. At first, I wanted to end things with Ethan gracefully, but I realized the Miller family had absolutely no shame. He literally camped outside my office building every day and kept calling me from burner numbers. Did he do it out of love? No. He just realized his family was losing the Vance family cash cow. “Do you need me to handle this?” Damian asked. This situation had given Damian a perfect excuse to drive me to work every day. But I felt bad dragging him into my mess. “No, it’s fine. I’ll handle it.”

Everyone thought I was just throwing a tantrum and waiting for the day I’d crawl back to Ethan. But I knew there was absolutely no turning back. Damian didn’t press the issue. He just patted my head—a gesture that had seemingly become his habit. It wasn’t that he didn’t care; I had simply told him I wanted to handle it myself. He just told me that if things got messy, he’d be there to clean up the aftermath. “Are you Chloe?” I was in the breakroom getting water when a girl in a pastel dress appeared in front of me. I recognized her instantly. It was Hailey. “Can I help you?” I had no intention of inviting her into my office. Suddenly, with a loud *thud*, Hailey dropped straight to her knees in front of me. It was lunchtime, and the breakroom was packed. The moment she fell, a crowd immediately gathered to watch the drama. “Chloe, it’s all my fault! Please, I beg you, don’t punish Ethan!” She looked like a normal person, so why was she talking like a lunatic? Hailey’s eyes were red, brimming with tears. Classic damsel-in-distress act. The onlookers started whispering among themselves. “Ethan and I could have been happy… if only his family didn’t force him into this business marriage…” Ah, I got it. She was blaming me for using my family’s wealth to tear them apart. “Are you done?” Even if I spoke plain English, she probably wouldn’t choose to understand. I didn’t want to waste my time on her. Let her say whatever she wanted; I had zero interest in Ethan anyway. In that very moment, I realized I had never actually loved Ethan that much. I had just thought we were a good match for marriage. I didn’t know what Hailey told Ethan, but the very next day, he came barging into my office to interrogate me. “Chloe, I already told you Hailey and I are just friends! Why did you have to humiliate her like that?” Wow. I couldn’t tell if Ethan was just a massive jerk or if Hailey was just a master manipulator. Yesterday’s drama had already been filmed by my colleagues and posted on Snapchat. Besides, I had made it clear multiple times that I was married now. “Chloe, I know you still love me. I really love you too. Can we please just give each other another chance?” His constant nagging was giving me a massive headache. Before I could react, Ethan lunged forward and locked me in a tight embrace. No matter how much I struggled, I couldn’t break free. “I know you don’t love Damian. You’re just using him to make me jealous. I don’t believe you could change your mind in just a few days!” I was still fighting to push him off. Ethan held me tighter, raising his voice. “Yes! I don’t love Damian! So what? I used him just to show you that I, Chloe Vance, don’t need you!” The second those words left my mouth, I froze. I looked past Ethan’s shoulder and saw Damian standing in the doorway. My heart sank. I had been set up. Ethan must have seen Damian coming and pulled this stunt on purpose. So, Damian had heard everything? He heard me say I didn’t love him and was just using him? For some reason, a wave of sheer panic rushed through me. “Damian!” The moment Damian turned around to leave, I used every ounce of my strength to shove Ethan away and ran after him. Gosh, I didn’t think Damian could be this petty. I didn’t see him for the next three days. Out of a strange sense of guilt, I actually initiated a call to his phone. It rang for a long time before going to voicemail. It seemed he was truly furious. Staring at my phone, I felt so childish. I decided I would wait for him to come home tonight and talk things out. But when I woke up the next morning, it was clear Damian was actively avoiding me. I decided to go to his company. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but without an appointment, I cannot let you up,” the receptionist said, her eyes filled with thinly veiled contempt.

I had already told her who I was, but she clearly didn’t care. “Chloe? What are you doing here?” Just as I was debating whether to call Damian again, Ethan suddenly appeared in the lobby of the Cole Group. I didn’t even bother giving him a glance. But men are truly pathetic—the colder you are, the harder they cling. “Chloe, you’re my wife. What is this messy affair you’re having with my uncle?” Ethan said loudly. I whipped my head around, staring at him in shock. “Wow, this girl is shameless. Jumping between Mr. Cole and his nephew?” “Exactly. Why would Mr. Cole want someone so loose?” Hearing the whispers from the employees nearby, I finally understood Ethan’s game. He was trying to ruin my reputation. “Chloe, my uncle might have power and money, but he can’t give you the love you actually want,” Ethan said, looking incredibly devoted. He was successfully painting me as a gold-digging heartbreaker who played with his feelings. He was humiliating himself just to drag me down with him. “Wow, the heir to the Miller family is so naive. Why is he begging a girl like that?” “I know, right? Why do the loyal guys always get hurt?” This was exactly what Ethan wanted. To throw dirt all over my name. But even if my reputation was dragged through the mud, I would never, ever go back to him. “What makes me so much worse than Damian?” Ethan snapped, visibly angered by my cold demeanor. He couldn’t understand why I still wouldn’t bow down to him. “What makes you worse? For starters, Damian doesn’t keep running back to his ex, and he didn’t abandon me at the altar.” My words made Ethan’s face turn pale. The loving, devoted persona he had just built began to crumble. “Chloe, why can’t you just let Hailey go? She already left the city! Why do you keep bringing her up?” Left the city? What a joke. He was probably only saying that to fool the onlookers. “Just come home with me. My uncle will never love you anyway. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” The crowd was swayed by Ethan’s acting again, completely ignoring what I had just said. Ethan stepped forward and grabbed my wrist, trying to drag me out by force. “Touch my woman again, and see what happens.” My other wrist was suddenly caught in a warm, firm grip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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I have been secretly married to my billionaire husband for six years. He has never been willing to reveal my identity or our son’s to the public. During a kindergarten family day, he became “Daddy” in another child’s eyes. My son clutched his activity card, standing frozen. He whispered, “Mommy, why can Uncle Ethan be that boy’s daddy, but not mine?” I didn’t answer. I just walked into the principal’s office and signed his transfer papers. I decided to get a divorce and take my son away forever. This time, no matter how much Ethan regrets it, my son and I will never look back. “Mrs. Vance, the transfer papers you requested are ready.” “Are you sure you want to finalize this now?” The principal sat behind her desk, looking at me with a hint of hesitation. Outside the window, bursts of laughter from the playground drifted into the office. Today was Pre-K Family Day. Just moments ago, Leo was standing by my side, eagerly staring at the entrance. Until Ethan Carter showed up. Before I could even react, a little boy rushed into his arms, looking up and shouting, “Daddy!” Ethan leaned down, patiently wiping the sweat from the boy’s forehead, and scooped him up into a warm hug. Chloe Jenkins stood beside them. The three of them looked exactly like a picture-perfect family. Meanwhile, my son stood next to me. He watched the scene in a daze, his tiny hands tightening around his activity card until the paper crumpled. After what felt like an eternity, he looked up and whispered, “Mommy, why is Uncle Ethan being someone else’s daddy?” At that moment, the words choked in my throat. I simply turned around and walked into the principal’s office. “Process the transfer now, please.” “Mrs. Vance, if you want to think about it for a bit longer…” “There’s no need.” I picked up the pen and signed my name on the final line of the form. My name was the only one on that line. It had always been just me. I handed the form back to the principal. “Also, please keep this confidential. I don’t want anyone to know about Leo’s transfer until we actually leave.” The principal stared at me for a moment before finally nodding. “Alright. I understand.” The moment I stepped out of the office, I ran straight into Ethan and Chloe. Ethan was my boss, and more importantly, the father of my child. Seven years ago, I was his executive assistant. After a wild, drunken night, we ended up having a baby. This year marked the sixth year of our secret marriage. It was also the sixth year he forced our son to call him “Uncle Ethan.” Ethan had one hand around Chloe’s waist while the other held the little boy’s hand. The scene was so sweet it burned my eyes. As we crossed paths, I couldn’t help but speak up. “Ethan…” He stopped in his tracks, his expression instantly turning icy. “Miss Vance.” His polite, distant tone carried a sharp warning, as if reminding me: *We aren’t close.* I understood his silent threat perfectly and swallowed my emotions. I let out a bitter, silent laugh. I had actually wanted to ask him to spend one last birthday with our son. But what was the point? He wouldn’t care anyway. My phone screen lit up. It was a text from my son’s smartwatch. [Mommy, did you tell Daddy to come home for my birthday tonight?] I froze, instinctively looking back. I saw Ethan leaning down, gently talking to Chloe’s son. The tenderness in his eyes was unmistakable. Swallowing the bitterness in my throat, I sent Ethan a text message anyway. [Today is Leo’s birthday. You promised you’d celebrate with him tonight.] I saw Ethan pick up his phone. He glanced at it for less than three seconds, set it back down, and showed absolutely no reaction. Staring at the silent chat screen, I smiled mockingly at myself. *Nora, what are you still expecting from a husband whose heart belongs to another woman?* I slid my phone back into my pocket, took a deep breath, and walked away. *Ethan, soon enough, you’ll only have one son left.*

I walked to the classroom door and picked up Leo. The moment he saw me, he ran over and excitedly grabbed my hand. “Mommy, today is my birthday! Can I finally call him Daddy tonight?” Standing in the middle of the crowded hallway, tears welled up in my eyes. “Your dad…” Before I could finish, my phone buzzed. Ethan had finally found the time to reply. [I’ll be home tonight.] I stared at the message for a few seconds, my heart completely numb. This would be the last time. I locked my phone, looked down at Leo, and said softly, “Daddy said he’ll be home tonight.” Leo’s eyes instantly lit up, his voice bursting with pure joy. “Really?” I nodded, forcing a smile. “Really.” That evening, I cooked a table full of his favorite dishes. Leo finished his homework early. He sat on the couch wearing his party hat, checking the front door every few minutes. At 7:00 PM, Ethan wasn’t home. At 8:00 PM, there was still no sound at the door. By 9:00 PM, the food on the table had gone completely cold. I sent text after text, asking where he was. But just like always, there was no reply. Leo seemed to realize what was happening. He looked at me timidly. “Mommy, is Daddy not coming back?” I walked over, pulled him into my arms, and gently stroked his hair. “I’m so sorry, baby.” Leo shook his head, obediently holding up his birthday hat. “Mommy, can you help me put it on?” I nodded. But as I reached for the hat, my eyes caught a new Instagram notification from Chloe. [Such a wonderful day. He took me and my baby out for a candlelit dinner. ❤️] Attached was a photo of a high-end restaurant. Even though his face was cropped out, I instantly recognized the wedding band on the man’s hand in the corner of the photo. It was the ring we had picked out together when we got married. How ironic. On his own son’s sixth birthday, he was having a romantic candlelit dinner with his mistress. I tapped the “like” button and put my phone down. I turned back and placed the birthday hat on my son’s head. “Happy birthday, Leo.” Under the warm glow of the single candle, Leo closed his eyes and folded his hands. “My birthday wish is to stay with Mommy forever.” I snapped a photo of him with my phone to capture the moment. “Okay. Mommy promises you.” That night, neither of us mentioned Ethan again. Once Leo fell asleep, I pulled out the divorce papers I had prepared beforehand from the drawer. The last shred of hesitation in my heart completely vanished. At 2:00 AM, Ethan finally came home. Seeing the half-eaten cake on the table, a flicker of guilt crossed his eyes. “Sorry, I lost track of time.” I almost laughed out loud. I had sent him dozens of texts. Did he really not see them? Or did celebrating another boy’s birthday make him forget everything else? I flipped the divorce papers to the signature page and handed them to him, trying to keep my voice steady. “Sign this…” Before I could finish, Ethan’s phone rang. Chloe’s panicked voice echoed through the quiet house. “Ethan, Mason has a fever. He won’t stop crying and keeps asking for you. I don’t know what to do…” Ethan stood up instantly, anxiety written all over his face. “Hold on, I’m coming right now.” Hanging up, he didn’t even look at what I handed him. He just scribbled his signature on the bottom line. I stepped back into the shadows and silently watched him rush out the door. *Ethan, you’re the one who abandoned this family.* *From now on, Leo and I will never wait for you again.*

The next day, Ethan came home and handed me a beautifully wrapped gift box. “A birthday present for Leo.” I looked up at him, took the box, and opened it. Inside was a remote-control car. I froze. Not because the gift was expensive, but because I had just seen this exact toy on Chloe’s Instagram story last night. Her caption had been: *He didn’t like it. Played with it for two minutes and threw it away.* So this was the “makeup” birthday gift Ethan brought for Leo. Giving his own biological son a toy that another woman’s child had discarded. I casually tossed the box onto the side table. My tone was flat. “Thanks, but he doesn’t need it.” Ethan gave me a strange look, but then he remembered something else. “One more thing.” “Mason had a fever last night, and Chloe can’t handle it alone. I’m planning to bring them here to stay for a few days until he gets better.” I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. “You mean you’re bringing Chloe and her son to live in our house?” Ethan’s expression was completely casual. “It’s just temporary. Just a few days.” “The kid is sick. He needs someone around.” I stared at him, feeling a cold shiver run down my spine. “What about Leo?” “Mason has a fever. Aren’t you worried he’ll pass it to Leo?” For once, Ethan hesitated. But he quickly came up with a thoughtless solution. “That’s why I want you to take Leo to a hotel for a few days.” “Once Mason is fully recovered, I’ll bring you both back.” I found it incredibly laughable. “Ethan Carter.” “Do you even hear yourself?” He frowned, seemingly annoyed by my reaction. “Nora, don’t be unreasonable.” “I’ll have my assistant book a nice hotel. I’ll cover all the expenses.” I suddenly burst into laughter. Even now, he actually thought I was upset about the cost of a hotel. I didn’t want to look at him anymore. “Fine.” “I’ll pack our bags and leave with Leo as soon as possible. We won’t get in your way.” Since we were leaving anyway, doing it a bit earlier made no difference. He opened his mouth, his tone softening slightly. “It won’t be long.” I didn’t look up. I just remained silent. I packed our suitcases and led Leo toward the door. But the moment I pushed the door open, I ran right into Ethan bringing them in. He was wheeling Chloe’s suitcase with one hand while holding her son in his other arm. When our eyes met, I saw a flash of panic in his eyes. Chloe gasped dramatically. “Nora? What are you doing here?” Hearing her, I immediately pulled Leo behind me, blocking his view. “I—” “They are my relatives. They’re just staying here temporarily,” Ethan cut in before I could speak. His grip on the suitcase handle tightened. It wasn’t the first time he had denied me, but every single time, it still felt like a knife twisting in my heart. Just as I was about to speak, Leo beat me to it. “Hello, Uncle Ethan.” I turned to look at my son in disbelief, only to see his eyes brimming with tears. “Mommy, let’s go,” Leo whispered. All my words choked in my throat. I squeezed his hand and replied softly, “Okay.” As we brushed past them, Ethan grabbed my wrist.

His grip was incredibly tight. “Nora.” “Did you teach him to say that on purpose?” I smiled, finding his anger deeply ironic. “Didn’t you say it yourself? In public, he is only allowed to call you Uncle.” Six years of secret marriage. Ethan hadn’t just hidden our relationship from the public. What was even more pathetic was that Leo was only allowed to call him “Daddy” on his birthday. Every year, seeing Leo so excited for his birthday just so he could call his own father “Daddy” broke my heart. I looked down and tried to wrench my hand free, but his grip didn’t budge. Ethan stared at me, his eyes filled with a complex emotion. “Give me a few days.” “I’ll explain things to Leo.” I reminded him coldly, “Chloe is waiting for you. Let go.” As if suddenly waking up, Ethan reluctantly released his grip. I let out a cold laugh and turned to walk away with Leo. But Ethan suddenly called out behind us. “Wait.” He ran back to his car and brought out a cake box, holding it out to me. “Leo, happy birthday.” Chloe chimed in right on cue. “Ethan originally bought this cake for Mason, but the poor thing has a fever and can’t eat anything.” “Your son might as well have it.” The cake in my hands suddenly felt like it weighed a ton. I wanted to throw it back at them, but then I saw the faint spark of hope in Leo’s eyes. He asked timidly, “Uncle Ethan, is this really for me?” Ethan gave a brief nod. Leo finally showed his first smile of the night. He pulled my hand, dragging me toward the living room. “Mommy, open it quick!” I silently untied the ribbon and opened the box. The very next second, my hands froze. Right in the center of the frosting, written in neat letters, was: *Happy Birthday, Mason!* The air in the room instantly turned ice-cold. The smile on Leo’s face slowly froze and crumbled. He stared at the words for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “Mommy… this isn’t my cake, is it?” My throat tightened, and my fingers began to tremble. Chloe gasped, covering her mouth as if she had just noticed. “Oh my god, how could the bakery forget to change the name?” I didn’t say a word. Because I knew very well that the bakery hadn’t “forgotten.” From the very beginning, this cake was never meant for Leo. Leo slowly lowered his head, his voice cracking. “I don’t want it.” “I don’t want things that other people threw away.” With that, my son buried his face deep into my chest, refusing to look at Ethan again. Without a second of hesitation, I picked up my son and walked out. Even as we walked out of the villa, I could still feel Ethan’s panicked, apologetic gaze on my back. But this time, neither my son nor I felt a single thing.

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1 On our seventh anniversary, Mike knelt with a velvet box. The proposal I’d waited seven years for was happening. But when he tried to slide the ring on, it caught painfully on my knuckle. I bit my lip, forcing a smile as the metal bit into my skin. Paige leaned in, tilting her head playfully. “Let me try?” she offered. The ring slipped down her slender finger, fitting as if tailor-made. She froze, eyes wide, tugging at it. Mike caught her wrist gently. “Don’t force it,” he murmured, tender. “Keep it—it fits perfectly.” Only then did he glance at me, sheepish. “Sorry, Nina. Must’ve used Paige’s size by mistake. Thought you two were similar.” Paige put her hands on her hips, scolding him. “Unbelievable! Take her tomorrow, upgrade it!” Watching them, a heavy ache bloomed in my chest. I knew his allergies, his shoe size, every milestone of seven years. He didn’t know my ring size. I withdrew my hand. “Don’t bother,” I said quietly. “The wedding’s off.” The laughter in the room died instantly. Mike’s face darkened, a sigh escaping his lips as he looked at me with weary exasperation. “Nina, you literally just said yes to my proposal. Now you’re calling off the wedding just because of a ring size?” “I know I messed up, and you have every right to be upset,” he continued, taking a step toward me. “But marriage isn’t a game. Stop throwing a tantrum, okay?” Paige quickly took my hand, her expression turning urgent and pleading. “She’s right, Nina. You two have been together for seven years. You can’t let a silly little mistake end everything.” One was my childhood sweetheart, the other my closest friend. They both belonged to the city’s wealthy social circles. In the early days, they had disliked each other thoroughly, Paige calling him an arrogant snob, and Mike dismissing her as shallow. But then came a college camping trip where I got lost in the woods late at night. They had split up to search for me, crossing paths in the dark forest and spending the entire night shouting my name together under the beam of their flashlights. After that night, they gradually grew closer. Eventually, whenever the three of us walked together, they would fall into step beside each other, leaving me a few paces behind. Sometimes they would look back, laughing as they called out, “Hurry up, slowpoke!” Seeing my silence, Paige grew visibly anxious. She shot Mike a harsh look, then turned to me, the playful demeanor completely gone. “Are you mad at me for being careless and putting the ring on? I’ll take it off right now.” She began to violently yank the ring from her finger. Because of the tight fit, the rough friction scraped her skin, drawing a thin line of blood. She let out a sharp gasp of pain but didn’t stop until the ring popped free. She held it out to me, her eyes brimming with tears. “Please don’t let me get in the way of your happiness. If you call off the wedding because of this, I’ll never forgive myself.” Mike’s brows furrowed deeply, his voice turning cold. “Nina, when did you become so petty? You are seriously throwing a fit over your best friend?” Looking at his face, a sudden wave of unfamiliarity washed over me. Because his mother preferred quiet, traditional women, I had spent years molding myself into a gentle, reserved version of myself. To marry him sooner, I had turned down graduate school and started working early, saving every penny, never even allowing myself the luxury of a five-dollar latte. Everyone in our circle assumed we would walk down the aisle. I had dreamed of his proposal a thousand times. But I never imagined that when the day finally arrived, I wouldn’t even be able to wear the ring. The humiliation and hurt pricked at my chest like a thousand tiny needles, making it hard to draw a full breath. Seeing the tears finally spill over my cheeks, Mike’s irritation melted into panic. He stepped forward to wipe my tears, then slowly pulled a small, beautifully wrapped box from his jacket pocket. Inside was a designer necklace I had admired for months but could never justify buying. “Nina, I was wrong,” he murmured, his eyes filled with sincere regret. “Please forgive me.” Looking at the apology in his eyes, my heart softened. For seven years, his kindness had always outnumbered his oversights. A crowd had gathered around us in the restaurant, and seeing my hesitation, they began to chant, “Say yes! Say yes!” In the end, my resolve crumbled, and I forgave him. Perhaps out of guilt, Mike became exceptionally attentive over the next few weeks. Slowly, the bitterness of that night faded, and I began to let myself look forward to our wedding day. Soon, our families arranged a dinner to finalize the wedding plans. My parents took a grueling nine-hour bus ride from our quiet upstate hometown, not even stopping for a drink of water before heading straight to the city. I was held up by an emergency at work and couldn’t leave, so I called Paige, begging her to pick up my parents and take them to the private dining room I had reserved. When I finally rushed into the restaurant, the scene inside made me freeze at the threshold. Paige was sitting right next to Mike and his mother, Mrs. Harrington. The four of them were laughing and talking, the atmosphere as warm and familiar as a holiday gathering. Meanwhile, my parents were squeezed into the far corner of the table. They sat stiffly, their hands resting awkwardly on their knees, offering hesitant, polite smiles. When the door opened and they saw me, their eyes lit up with instant relief. Before I could speak, Mrs. Harrington’s face darkened, her voice dripping with condescension. “Late to her own engagement dinner, and she couldn’t even bother to pick up her own parents? How incredibly irresponsible. I suppose this shows just how much she values family.” Mike frowned slightly. “Mom, Nina had a genuine emergency at work today.” His mother let out a dismissive scoff, rolling her eyes. “No work emergency is more important than family on a night like this.” She then turned, taking Paige’s hand in her own, her face instantly melting into a warm, affectionate smile. “You know, Paige, from the moment I met you, I knew we were kindred spirits. You are so sweet, well-mannered, and articulate. I only wish I were welcoming you into the family instead.” Paige waved her hands in modest embarrassment, offering a polite laugh. “Oh, Mrs. Harrington, please don’t say that. Nina was always top of our class, and she has a wonderful career. She is much more accomplished than I am.” Though she spoke highly of me, she made no move to shift out of the seat reserved for the bride-to-be, remaining nestled comfortably between Mike and his mother. My mother, missing the venom in the older woman’s words, leaned forward. She carefully reached into a canvas bag by her feet and pulled out a container of fresh peaches, presenting them with both hands in a gesture of eager accommodation. “Our Nina has always been a hard worker, Mrs. Harrington. She’s helped around the house since she was a little girl. These are fresh peaches from our tree back home, incredibly sweet. Please, try some.” Mrs. Harrington didn’t even look up, her tone entirely flat. “Oh, peaches. I nearly forgot, the supermarket down the block is running a sale on those, three pounds for two dollars.” My mother’s hands froze in mid-air. The peaches were plump and pristine. She had hand-picked them from our yard and carried them carefully on her lap through the entire bus ride to keep them from bruising. But to these people, they were just cheap, discounted produce. Seeing my mother slowly retract her hands, a fierce protective anger flared up in my chest. As I opened my mouth to speak, my father gently caught my wrist under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice quiet and gentle. “They come from a different world. It’s natural for them to be discerning. As long as he treats you well, a little slight to us is nothing. Our only worry is that if you face trouble in the future, we won’t be strong enough to stand behind you.” Looking at my parents’ weathered, kind faces, the urge to fight for this marriage suddenly evaporated. I looked back at the main table. I saw Paige sitting in my rightful spot, and Mike quietly sipping his tea without raising his voice to defend my family. In that moment, a cold clarity washed over me. It wasn’t just the ring. Some things simply do not fit, and they never will. The dinner ended awkwardly, the conversation drifting aimlessly without any actual wedding dates being set. Since my apartment was too small, I had booked a hotel room for my parents, planning to take them sightseeing the next morning. As we prepared to leave, Paige grabbed my hand, her eyes filled with concern. “Nina, you looked so pale during dinner. Are you alright?” Before I could answer, Mike cut in. “Paige, stop blaming yourself for everything. This isn’t your fault. My mother has always been particular, and she was just trying to see if Nina has the grace to handle it.” He then looked at me, his voice entirely casual. “Don’t take it to heart, Nina. My mother is all bark and no bite. If she really disliked you, she wouldn’t have shown up tonight at all.” I simply nodded, keeping my thoughts to myself. If Mike truly cared about me, how could he have remained silent while his mother humiliated my parents? By the time I settled my parents in their room and returned to our shared apartment, it was past nine in the evening. As I reached for my keys, I heard Mike’s voice carrying through the door. He was on the phone with his mother. “Out of all the women in the city, why do you have to throw your life away on Nina?” Mrs. Harrington’s sharp voice was audible even through the wood. “I thought you were just having fun, but you actually want to marry her! What do you see in her? Her impoverished background? Her unsophisticated parents?” “Mom, you can complain to me all you want, but please don’t say those things to her face,” Mike replied, his tone weary but yielding. “I love her, and I want to make this work.” He sounded as though he were defending me, but his words offered no real shield. He was merely managing his mother’s anger while reinforcing the narrative that he was a martyr for loving me. The final ember of hope in my heart went cold. I didn’t open the door. Instead, I walked back to the subway, returned to my parents’ hotel, and knocked on their door. “Mom, Dad,” I said when they opened it. “I’m going to take you around the city for a few days. And then, I’m coming home upstate with you.” “I am not marrying him.” That night, Mike sent dozens of text messages and tried calling me repeatedly. Even though I had resolved to leave, my heart still gave a involuntary flutter at the sight of his name on my screen. The first few messages were demanding to know where I was. But as I scrolled down, the tone shifted drastically. “Paige saw that you weren’t replying and didn’t come home. She was terrified something happened to you and went out to search. There’s been an accident!” My mind went completely blank. Driven by sheer instinct, I rushed out of the hotel, hailed a cab, and sped toward the hospital. Paige lay silently on the emergency room bed, her forehead wrapped in thick white gauze, her face pale. My knees buckled, and I let out a choked sob. Mike bolted up from his chair, his eyes bloodshot as he glared at me. “How do you have the nerve to cry?” he hissed, his voice trembling with rage. “If it weren’t for your childish stunt, Paige wouldn’t have gone out alone in the middle of the night to look for you. She ran into some drunks in an alley. When she tried to run, they threw a bottle at her head!” He clenched his fists, his knuckles white. “How old are you, Nina? Running away and ignoring messages over a minor disagreement? How can you be so incredibly selfish?” A heavy weight of guilt pressed down on my chest, but looking at his furious, accusatory gaze, the injustice of it all burned through me. “I am deeply sorry about Paige, and I will take full responsibility for her medical care,” I said, my voice steady despite the trembling in my hands. “But you have no right to lecture me.” “I’ve spent the night thinking things through. The wedding is off, Mike. We are done.” Mike’s jaw dropped, his expression turning to utter disbelief. “Are you seriously still playing games at a time like this?” “You think I’m playing games?” I whispered, my teeth clenched. “At dinner yesterday, my parents and I were treated like garbage, and you didn’t say a single word to protect us. Your mother openly wished Paige was her daughter-in-law while you sat there staring at your teacup. To anyone else in that room, she looked like your fiancée, not me!” Mike opened his mouth to argue, but before he could speak, a weak voice drifted from the hospital bed. “Nina…” Paige had opened her eyes, her gaze trembling and filled with tears. “I heard everything you just said.” “All this time, you’ve resented me. You think I’m the obstacle between you and Mike, don’t you?” I froze, caught off guard. Before I could explain, the tears began to stream down her face. “I always thought of you as my sister, Nina. I’ve done nothing but support you. Even after getting hurt tonight, I didn’t blame you for a second. I can’t believe you think so poorly of me.” “Maybe it’s better this way. At least now I see where I stand. We shouldn’t see each other anymore.” Right then, my phone began to vibrate violently in my hand. Before I could process Paige’s words, my mother’s sobbing voice came through the receiver, freezing the blood in my veins. “Nina… I went downstairs to grab some food, but as soon as I stepped out of the hotel, a group of people surrounded us. They were pointing and filming us with their phones, calling us grifters…” “Your father tried to reason with them, but they wouldn’t listen. Someone pushed him, Nina. He fell and hit his head on the concrete steps. We’re in the emergency room…” A cold dread washed over me. I opened my social media feed. Sitting at the top of the local trending page was my photo, accompanied by a scathing article accusing my family of attempting to extort a wealthy dynasty through a forced marriage. In an attached video clip, Mrs. Harrington sat gracefully in front of a camera, subtly but clearly exposing my parents’ names and our hometown address. The comment section was a toxic swamp of vitriol directed entirely at us. Slowly, I raised my phone, turning the screen toward Mike and Paige. “So, this is your idea of a compromise?” Mike glanced at the screen, then looked away, his expression hardening into defensive pride. “Don’t look at me like that. If you hadn’t behaved so terribly, my mother wouldn’t have felt the need to protect our family’s reputation.” “You brought this public scrutiny on yourself by hurting the people who cared about you.” Looking at him, he felt like a complete stranger. He hadn’t raised a finger to stop his mother. He had allowed it to happen. In that single moment, the very last trace of my love for him died. I turned toward the door. “Nina, this is your last chance,” Mike called out, his voice suddenly sharp. “If you walk out that door, we are finished.” I didn’t stop. My silence seemed to snap his restraint. “My mother was right! I spoiled you too much! Do you honestly believe you got that high-paying corporate job on your own merit? That company is a subsidiary of the Harrington Group! Do you think you could afford that beautiful downtown apartment on your salary? I was paying the landlord an extra three hundred dollars a month out of my own pocket!” “Everything you have is because of me! Without me, you are absolutely nothing!” His words washed over me, leaving me entirely cold. He spoke as if I should be deeply moved by his charity. But he didn’t understand. I never wanted a benefactor to secretly smooth my path only to use it as a leash to keep me subservient. Without looking back, I walked out of the hospital and ran to my parents. Fortunately, my father’s injury was minor. The next morning, I submitted my resignation, booked the earliest flight home, packed our belongings, and left the city behind. I transferred the full amount of Paige’s medical bills to her account, left a final message, and blocked Mike’s number permanently. But Mike, entirely unaware of what he had lost, remained convinced of his own power. He assumed I was simply throwing another tantrum and would eventually crawl back to him once my bank account ran dry. He even expected to find a warm dinner waiting for him when he returned to the apartment that evening. Instead, when he pushed open the front door, he froze.

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1 At our college graduation party, someone suggested we play “Me Through My Boyfriend’s Lens.” Every guy with a partner had to pull up three photos of his girlfriend from his camera roll. The cutest, the sexiest, and the funniest. When it was Austin’s turn, the crowd erupted, chanting his name and slamming their glasses. They declared him our star photographer and raised the stakes. Thirty pictures, they demanded, or he had to down his drink. Curious to see how he saw me, I leaned closer. But the moment I moved, Austin shut off his screen with a sharp, defensive flick. Without a word, he grabbed his glass and drained it. The laughter died, replaced by an awkward silence. Sensing the tension, Austin forced a casual laugh. “Caitlin is way too cute. I’m not sharing her with you guys.” The mood warmed back up. A friend nudged him, teasing that Austin had fried four memory cards shooting Brandi’s portfolios. There was no way he didn’t have thirty photos of his own girlfriend. He was just hoarding them. Brandi laughed it off, playfully hitting the guy. “Those were strictly for my portfolio!” The group chuckled and let the topic slide. I watched Austin release a slow, visible sigh of relief, his shoulders finally relaxing. My chest tightened, a cold weight settling in my stomach. Amidst the blaring music and clinking glasses, my voice cut through, flat and clear. “Austin, I want to see your camera roll.” The room went quiet again. Austin, sitting right next to me, went rigid. A second later, he recovered his smile and draped an arm around my shoulder, squeezing gently. “Come on, babe. I will show you when we get back home.” I shook my head. “I want to see it now. I am really curious to see what I look like through my boyfriend’s eyes.” I looked at him, forcing my lips to curve upward, though the warmth never reached my eyes. His grip on my shoulder tightened, his tone laced with soft exasperation. “Caitlin, don’t be like this. You know I have confidential family business files saved on there.” It was always the same excuse. In our three years of dating, I had never once looked through Austin’s phone. He had a locked vault on his device, and whenever I asked, he claimed it was filled with sensitive documents regarding his family’s logistics company. Since he had taken over a portion of the family business during our freshman year, I had never doubted him. I had respected his privacy and never brought it up again. But tonight, I did not want to be reasonable. His sheer panic made me desperate to know the truth. “I won’t look at your files,” I said, my voice steady. “Just text the photos to me.” “You don’t even have to send thirty. Just ten.” “We have been together for three years, Austin. Surely your phone has at least ten photos of me.” The more observant people in the room began to exchange knowing glances, their eyes gleaming with the anticipation of drama. As the silence stretched, my heart sank lower and lower. I had never imagined he would struggle to find even ten pictures. He could fill gigabytes of storage with Brandi’s modeling shoots, but he could not produce ten simple photos of the girl he supposedly loved. A wave of profound absurdity washed over me. I grabbed my bag from the booth, ready to walk out. Austin finally snapped out of his daze, reaching for my arm. “Caitlin, wait, let me explain…” Brandi stood up from across the table, quickly walking over to grab my hand. “Caitlin, is this because of what they said? Please don’t misunderstand.” “Don’t listen to them. You know I need to constantly update my social media for my modeling gigs, and Austin is the only decent photographer I know. It was purely professional. If it makes you uncomfortable, I will never ask him for help again.” “And who else is going to take them?” Austin suddenly snapped. His brow was furrowed, his voice dropping into a sharp, displeased register. “Did you forget that freelance photographer who stalked you to your apartment? What if you run into someone like that again?” Brandi shot him a desperate look, trying to signal him to stop talking, but he ignored her completely, his face tight with protective worry. “If anything happens to you, how am I supposed to face your mother?” The two of them stood there, arguing back and forth, entirely shutting me out of the conversation. Behind me, I caught the hushed whispers of two classmates. “Austin is still as protective of Brandi as ever.” “Well, they have been inseparable since middle school. If Brandi hadn’t dated that guy during freshman year, Austin probably would have confessed to her back then.” “Then what about Caitlin?” “Maybe she is just the placeholder? You know, the substitute for the dream girl.” My throat felt incredibly dry, my chest aching with a bitter, suffocating resentment. I wanted to speak, to defend myself, but as I parted my lips, I realized I had absolutely no ground to stand on. Austin finally finished his debate with Brandi. Having lost the argument, she huffed, crossing her arms as she walked to the far side of the room. When Austin turned his gaze back to me, the warmth was entirely gone, replaced by a cold, impatient irritation. “Caitlin, it was just a party game. Why do you have to ruin the mood like this?” “Brandi is my childhood friend. Am I supposed to stand by and watch her get hurt?” My hands clenched into tight fists at my sides. “I didn’t say that…” I just wanted to know if I mattered to you. But he cut me off, his voice flat. “You want photos? Fine. I will send them.” He tapped on his screen for a few moments. Soon, my phone buzzed with incoming notifications. Ten photos. Exactly ten, not a single one more. All of them featured me. A few curious onlookers peeked over my shoulder, letting out relieved chuckles as they patted my back. “See? He had them all along. Look at these, they are all candid shots. Austin was telling the truth, he just wanted to keep them for himself.” “Caitlin, you were totally overthinking it.” “Alright, drama over! Let’s get back to the music!” Nobody noticed that my fingers were gripping the phone so hard my knuckles had turned white. Yes, the photos were of me. But my eyes instantly locked onto the details at the edges of the frames. In one photo of me at a cafe, a familiar fabric peeked into the corner of the shot, the sleeve of the dress Brandi had worn that exact day. In another, a few stray locks of long, chestnut hair hovered in the margin. These weren’t candid photos Austin had taken of me because he found me beautiful. These were tightly cropped details, sliced out of larger photos he had taken of Brandi. My lungs felt tight, a sharp pain radiating through my chest. When he looked through that camera lens, who was he actually focusing on? Me, or the girl standing right beside me? A flood of memories rushed over me. We had started dating in the spring of our freshman year, and it wasn’t long before he introduced me to Brandi. At the time, she was still with her college boyfriend. The four of us would occasionally go out for dinners. Every single time we ordered, Austin would effortlessly recite Brandi’s favorite dishes, her exact spice tolerance, and her allergies. Once, Brandi’s boyfriend joked, “Austin, buddy, let me do the ordering next time, or Brandi is going to think I don’t care about her preferences.” Austin had laughed it off, promising to step back, but by the next dinner, he was right back to his old habits. Later, after Brandi broke up with her boyfriend, we still hung out constantly. Whenever I bought tickets for a movie or planned a weekend getaway, Austin would always add, “Great, let me text Brandi to see if she is free to join us.” When I voiced my discomfort, he would reassure me, saying that his mother had promised Brandi’s family to look after her. Since her family had helped him during his childhood, he felt obligated to repay the debt. I had swallowed my pride and endured it. Then Brandi started her modeling work, and her schedule became packed. I thought we would finally have some time to ourselves. Until that creepy photographer stalked her. The night she called him, terrified, Austin left me sitting alone in a dark movie theater to rush to her side. I understood the gravity of the situation, so I hadn’t complained. But after that night, Austin became her personal photographer. They spent more time together than we did. Across the room, the speakers blared a classic ballad about unrequited love. I looked over. Austin had reclaimed his seat next to Brandi, leaning in close to whisper something to her, his attention entirely consumed by her. In this crowded, noisy room, she was the only one who existed to him. A quiet, bitter laugh escaped my throat. I should have seen the signs long ago. I had simply chosen to remain blind. Without a sound, I slipped out of the room. I pulled out my phone. A text from my internship supervisor sat at the top of my notifications. The company wanted to offer me a permanent, full-time position. Austin came from a wealthy family and possessed incredible natural talent. I had desperately wanted to be successful enough to stand beside him as an equal. So, I had entered one of the most competitive firms in the city. Out of thirty interns, only one would be offered a contract. To secure my place in this city, I had worked myself to the bone. I had stayed up until dawn finalizing proposals even when running a high fever. I had planned to share this incredible news with him tonight. Now, I realized there was no point. My fingers tapped lightly against the glass screen. “Thank you for the opportunity, but I must respectfully decline. Please offer the position to someone else.” I was going back to Savannah. During our senior year, Austin had rented an apartment close to my office, and I had been living there with him. But that night, I didn’t go back. I went to my old dorm room instead. The next morning, I woke up to several missed calls and messages from him. “Why didn’t you come back last night?” “Caitlin, are you still throwing a tantrum?” “Brandi hired a female photographer, I won’t be shooting her portfolios anymore. Is that enough to satisfy you?” I read the texts, finding no trace of genuine remorse, only a tired, heavy annoyance. I began typing a reply, then deleted it. After some thought, I decided we needed to end this in person. I owed our three years together a proper conclusion. I sent him the address of a quiet cafe near campus. After waiting for thirty minutes, Austin arrived, but the familiar figure of Brandi was right behind him. Under the table, my fingers curled into tight fists. They walked over and sat down across from me. Austin picked up the menu, while Brandi offered a bright, cheerful wave. “Caitlin, you left so suddenly last night without saying goodbye.” “But oh my gosh, this cafe is absolutely beautiful! The lighting is perfect for a shoot. I should have asked my new photographer to come along. Oh well, Austin, you can just snap a few quick ones of me later.” Austin smiled, his tone a mix of indulgence and affection. “Whatever you say, princess.” He waved down the waiter. “A sweet latte, an iced americano, and…” He paused, finally looking at me. “Caitlin, what are you having?” A bitter pang went through my chest. Three years, and he still did not know my order. “Just a glass of water, please,” I told the waiter. Austin seemed to realize his mistake, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Are you sure? What about a cappuccino? Or a vanilla latte?” “Austin, it doesn’t matter,” I cut him off. “I asked you here because…” “Oh my gosh! Look at that sunlight!” Brandi squealed, pointing at the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Austin, quick, get the camera!” The sunlight streamed through the glass, catching the golden highlights in her hair, making her look radiant. Austin’s eyes lit up instantly. “That is perfect. Let me grab the camera.” He pulled out his phone, a vintage CCD camera, and his professional DSLR from his bag, carefully adjusting the settings as he began directing her poses. He was entirely absorbed in his work, treating it like a grand artistic endeavor. I remembered the times we had traveled together. When I asked him to take a single photo of me against a beautiful backdrop, he would snap a quick picture in three seconds flat, barely looking at the screen. He had never truly looked at me through that lens. As long as Brandi was in the room, his eyes would only ever find her. They continued their impromptu shoot, completely ignoring my presence. The waiter returned with the drinks, smiling warmly at them. “I don’t think I have ever seen a boyfriend so dedicated to taking photos of his girl.” “Yes, he is quite dedicated,” I said quietly. The waiter’s voice was clear, and Brandi’s eyes flickered in my direction. She had definitely heard him, but she made no effort to correct him. Instead, a subtle, smug triumph flashed deep within her eyes. “That expression is perfect!” Austin exclaimed, clicking the shutter. Whether he had heard the waiter or not, it didn’t matter anymore. I took a slow sip of my water, placing the glass back on the table with a soft click. “Austin, let’s break up.” Click. Austin took one last shot, reviewed the image on his screen, and finally turned his head to look at me. “What? Sorry, Caitlin, what did you say?” I glanced at Brandi, offering a faint smile. “Brandi heard me. You can ask her.” With that, I stood up and walked out of the cafe. On my way back to the dorms, my phone began to ring incessantly. I hesitated before picking up. A heavy silence stretched across the line for a full minute before his voice came through, low and tense. “Caitlin, you want to break up?” “Yes.” “Why? Have I not been good to you?” I was stunned by the question. He genuinely had no idea why I was leaving. If I looked at our relationship in a vacuum, Austin was a decent boyfriend. He bought me expensive gifts, helped me with career advice, and supported me whenever I faced challenges. But that was only when Brandi wasn’t involved. “Austin,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “Have you ever paused to think about who you actually love?” The line went dead silent, his breathing catching. “I am not going to spend my life playing second fiddle to someone else. Let’s just end it here.” I hung up, refusing to answer any of his subsequent calls or texts. The next few days passed in quiet isolation. On my final day at the internship, my supervisor pulled me into her office. “Caitlin, are you absolutely sure about this? Most graduates would kill for a starting position here.” I smiled gratefully. “Thank you, but my mind is made up.” I knew that with my qualifications, I could secure a good job back in Savannah. When I stepped out of the office building, I was surprised to find Austin leaning against his car, his eyes locked onto me. He strode over, grabbing my hand in a tight grip. “Caitlin, what did you mean by that phone call?” “You are my girlfriend. If you want to end things, you owe me a real explanation.” “I have already said everything I need to say,” I replied, pulling against his grip. “Please let go of me.” His fingers dug in deeper, a stubborn, frantic energy rolling off him. “Is this about the photography? I told you, she has a new photographer now. I am done shooting for her.” “But you still took her photos at the cafe, didn’t you?” I asked, a mocking smile on my face. He flinched, his voice faltering. “That was… an exception.” I did not want to waste another breath. I pulled away and walked quickly toward the bus stop. My bus back to campus was arriving. Suddenly, a loud engine roared from down the street. As the motorcycle sped past, a gloved hand reached out and violently snatched my bag from my shoulder. The force of the yank sent me crashing onto the concrete. My palms and knees scraped hard against the asphalt, blood welling up immediately. “Caitlin!” Austin rushed over, his face pale with panic as he knelt beside me, trying to pull up his phone to dial 911. Before he could dial, his phone began to ring. He glanced at the caller ID, freezing for a fraction of a second before answering. “Brandi…” Within seconds, Austin stood up, his face turning completely cold. “That creep came back to your place?” “Hang on, I am on my way!” I bit my lip against the throbbing pain, my bloody fingers reaching out to grab the hem of his coat. “Austin…” He looked down at me, a flash of conflict crossing his eyes. Then, he knelt back down, using his thumb to gently wipe some dirt from my cheek. “I called the ambulance, they will be here soon. Brandi is in immediate danger, I have to go help her. Caitlin, wait for me.” Before I could say a word, he turned and ran down the street, disappearing around the corner. I stared at his retreating back, slowly letting go of the breath in my throat. The question I wanted to ask him, Now do you see who you really love? remained unspoken. I thought my heart would break, but perhaps the physical pain of my scraped limbs numbed the ache. I felt incredibly, terrifyingly calm. When my parents heard the news, they drove through the night to reach the hospital. The police were efficient, apprehending the thief and returning my stolen belongings within a day. I spent three days recovering in the hospital. Many friends came to visit, but Austin was never one of them. Lying in bed, I scrolled through my feed and saw Brandi’s latest post. It was a picture of a harbor at sunset, with the caption: Grateful for the harbor that always waits for my ship. I tapped the heart icon and closed the app. The next day, Austin finally rushed into the hospital lobby. “I am looking for Caitlin. Which ward is she in?” The receptionist checked her computer and looked up. “I am sorry, she was discharged yesterday.” Unable to reach me by phone, he drove straight to my office, only for my supervisor to adjust her glasses and sigh. “Caitlin? She declined our offer, resigned from her internship, and left the city. She should be back in her hometown by now.” Her words hit him like a physical blow, pinning him to the spot. Austin’s face drained of all color.

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1It was the first day of preschool, but my daughter was nowhere to be found. My phone buzzed with a text from Patrick, my wife’s high school sweetheart. He asked if I could guess where she was. This was the fourth time he had pulled one of his twisted pranks on me. When Megan and I started dating, he made me believe she died in a car crash. I ran three miles down an icy road in tears. On our wedding day, they disappeared for twenty-four hours, leaving me humiliated before a hundred guests. When Sophie was born, he brought a fake DNA test to the hospital. I only got the truth after collapsing from a panic attack. Megan always defended him. She would cradle his face and scold me for being too sensitive. But this time, he was messing with our four-year-old. Shaking, I called Megan. She picked up sounding annoyed and said Patrick was just playing hide-and-seek. Then she hung up. I stared at my screen. The GPS tracker on my daughter’s profile glowed a steady red. The location was right in the middle of Blackwood River. The September river water was bone-chilling. I didn’t even bother kicking off my shoes. Following the red dot on my screen, I threw myself directly into the rapids. The freezing current instantly swallowed my chest, sending violent tremors down my spine. The mud at the riverbed was incredibly soft and slick. My foot slipped, and my entire head went under the murky, freezing water. “Sophie! Sophie, where are you!” I choked on a mouthful of dirty water, fighting desperately to stand up. My throat was so tight I could barely breathe. Up on the banks, people were shouting about a man jumping into the river. I could see the flashes of phone cameras pointing at me. I didn’t care about any of it. My mind was consumed by the image of Sophie’s bright smile when we left the house this morning. She was terrified of water. I usually had to spend half an hour just coaxing her into the bathtub. There was no way in hell she would willingly go near a rushing river. I bent over, plunging my bare hands into the freezing current, dragging my fingers through the rotting sludge. My fingernails tore against sharp rocks, but I couldn’t feel the pain. The blood welling from my fingers was instantly washed away by the current. Suddenly, my fingertips brushed against something soft. My heart violently contracted. I gripped the object with both hands and tore it out of the heavy mud. It was Sophie’s pink strawberry backpack. The fabric was completely waterlogged, making it as heavy as a brick. My hands shook uncontrollably as I ripped the zipper open. My daughter wasn’t inside. There was only a soggy, ruined coloring book. “Sophie!” I screamed at the top of my lungs at the empty river. My vocal cords tore, making me sound like a dying animal. There was nothing on the surface but floating dead leaves and garbage. Fear wrapped its icy fingers around my throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. I pulled my soaking wet phone from my pocket and dialed Patrick’s number. It rang for nearly a full minute before he finally picked up. “Patrick! Where is my daughter! Where the hell is she?!” The line went dead silent for a second. Then, a lazy, arrogant chuckle filtered through the speaker. “It’s hide-and-seek, man. You have to find a good hiding spot.” “Are you out of your psychotic mind! You don’t play games with a child’s life!” My entire body was convulsing. I couldn’t tell if it was from the freezing water or the blinding rage. “Stop yelling. I’ll text you the address. Come find us yourself.” My phone chimed. A location pin for a luxury downtown hotel popped up on the screen. My knuckles turned completely white as I gripped the steering wheel, pressing the gas pedal straight to the floor. Twenty minutes later, I kicked open the door to Room 8012. “Sophie!” I charged into the room with bloodshot eyes. The main lights were off, the blackout curtains drawn tight. The only illumination came from a dim, amber bedside lamp. Clothes were scattered across the carpet. A man’s dress shirt was heavily tangled in a woman’s silk slip dress. On the bed, Megan was frantically pulling the heavy duvet up to cover her bare chest. Patrick was leaning against the headboard, completely shirtless. There were fresh, faint red scratch marks trailing down his neck. When Megan saw me standing there, dripping muddy river water onto the expensive carpet, raw panic flashed across her face. But it only lasted a second. She quickly pulled a plush bathrobe over her shoulders, got out of bed, and pointed a manicured finger right in my face. “What the hell is wrong with you, Declan! Who told you to come here!” “Today is Sophie’s first day of preschool! Instead of staying with her, you’re tracking me down? Are you completely insane!” The absolute humiliation of her betrayal mixed with the boiling anger of being played. My temples throbbed so hard my vision blurred. But I didn’t have time to waste on her garbage. I didn’t even look at her. I locked my eyes onto Patrick, who was still lounging on the mattress, and forced the words out through gritted teeth. “I am going to ask you one last time. Where is Sophie.” Patrick instantly put on his signature innocent, victimized expression, shrinking back slightly behind Megan’s silhouette. “Whoa, Declan, calm down. The game ended hours ago.” “Sophie got tired, so I dropped her back off at the preschool.” I raised my arm and hurled the soaking wet strawberry backpack across the room. It hit the floor with a heavy, wet thud. “You dropped her off?” I pointed a trembling finger at the ruined bag. “I pulled that out of the deep mud at the bottom of the river! You expect me to believe you took her back?!” A brief flicker of guilt crossed Patrick’s eyes, but he quickly recovered, throwing his hands up in a casual shrug. “Well, maybe she dropped it in the water while she was playing. It’s just a cheap backpack. Buy her a new one. Do you really need to act like a psycho over this?” I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I lunged across the room, grabbed Patrick by the hair, and dragged him off the mattress, slamming him hard onto the floor. “Where the fuck did you leave her! That river has a deadly undercurrent! She is four years old!” Before I could land a punch, Megan threw herself at me. Her acrylic nails dug deep into my forearm, tearing off a strip of skin. “Declan, you are out of your mind! Let him go right now!” She shoved me backward with all her strength, immediately dropping to her knees to cradle Patrick’s head, checking his face for bruises. Then she looked up at me. Her eyes were so cold they felt completely alien to me. “Are you just using this as an excuse to throw a tantrum, Declan?” “You just said it yourself, the only thing in the river was her bag. Patrick was nice enough to take her out for some fresh air. So what if they lost a stupid backpack?” “Sophie is probably sitting in her classroom perfectly fine right now, and here you are, biting people like a rabid dog!” I stared at the woman kneeling on the floor. The biological mother of my child. I was standing in front of her, soaked in freezing mud, telling her I found our daughter’s belongings at the bottom of a rapid river. She didn’t show a single ounce of fear or concern for her child. Her only instinct was to protect the man she had just been sleeping with. A bone-deep chill washed over me. It was so cold that even the fire of my rage was extinguished. I turned around and walked out. Looking at her for one more second made me physically sick. Driving toward the preschool, I gripped the wheel so hard my hands went numb. My brain kept flashing back to the image of Sophie leaving the house. She was wearing her brand-new pale yellow autumn sweater, her hair tied in two little braids. She had wrapped her tiny arms around my neck and whispered, “Daddy, I’m going to be so good today. You have to be the first one to pick me up, okay?” I had kissed her soft cheek and promised I would. When I pulled up to the preschool gates, I didn’t even turn the engine off. I threw the door open and sprinted into the courtyard. “Sophie! Is Sophie Wright in her classroom!” Ms. Davis, the head teacher, jumped back in shock. “Mr. Wright? What happened to you? Why are you wet?” I grabbed her shoulders. “Where is she? Is she inside?” Ms. Davis froze, a look of pure confusion and rising panic crossing her face. “Mr. Wright… A man named Patrick came with your emergency pickup code. He took her home two hours ago.” A bomb went off in my skull. My legs completely gave out. I dropped straight to my knees on the playground asphalt. Patrick was lying. Megan was covering for him. My daughter was gone. “Call the police… please call the police…” I collapsed onto my hands, my freezing fingers fumbling frantically to pull out my phone. I couldn’t hit the right numbers on the screen. Ms. Davis had to dial 911 for me. Leaning heavily against the iron gates of the school, I dialed Patrick’s number one more time. “The school said she never came back. I just called the cops.” “Patrick, the police are on their way. Tell me exactly where you left her.” The line was dead silent for a long moment. When Patrick finally spoke, his voice was still infuriatingly lazy, but now he added a gross layer of fake victimization. “Why are you trying to frame me, Declan? I walked her right up to the front gates. If she ran off because she wanted to play, how is that my fault?” The phone was abruptly snatched away. Megan’s shrill voice pierced my ear. “Declan, I have had enough of your drama! Patrick said he brought her back, which means he brought her back.” “Why would he lie to you? Honestly, I think you hid her yourself just to get back at us.” “You actually called the cops? Stop embarrassing yourself and go home!” I hung up the phone. She was beyond saving. The patrol cars arrived in ten minutes. I rode with them straight to the precinct to pull the city security footage. The timeline rewound to two and a half hours ago. Patrick was holding Sophie’s hand as they walked out of the preschool gates. Sophie was wearing her pink strawberry backpack, skipping happily to keep up with his long strides, looking up at him and chatting. There was no audio on the cameras, but just looking at the footage, I could tell my daughter was smiling so sweetly. It felt like someone was twisting a jagged knife into my heart. The cameras tracked them down the river walk. They walked into a dense cluster of willow trees. That specific stretch of the riverbank was a blind spot for the cameras. There was only one distant camera that caught blurry shadows. Fifteen minutes later, Patrick walked out of the trees alone. His hands were completely empty. He stood on the curb, casually lighting a cigarette, before hailing a cab. I pressed my face against the glowing monitor, my eyes burning with dry heat, desperately praying to see what happened in those trees. But there was nothing. No footage of her falling in. No shadows of a struggle. He had just walked away, leaving a four-year-old girl alone on the edge of a deadly river. I sat completely frozen in the surveillance room for four hours. Every ticking second felt like someone was scraping the flesh off my bones. The muddy water had dried onto my clothes, turning them into a stiff, freezing shell. But the cold in my chest was infinitely worse. Just as the sun began to set, the lead detective pushed the door open. His police radio was buzzing with static. His face was incredibly grim. He looked at me, his lips pressing into a thin line. His eyes were full of absolute pity. “Mr. Wright… A local fisherman just called in from the lower basin, about six miles downstream…” “They found a little girl in the reeds. She matches the description.” The surveillance room fell dead silent. Nobody breathed. A loud, deafening ringing filled my ears, blocking out all other sound. I tried to stand up, but my legs were completely numb. I crashed hard onto the tile floor, then scrambled desperately to get back on my feet. “Take me to her.” My voice was so broken it didn’t even make a sound. “Take me… I need to see her.” The cruiser sirens wailed all the way to the lower riverbanks. It was pitch black outside. Yellow police tape blocked off the marsh. Red and blue emergency lights pulsed against the dark water. A few crime scene investigators were crouching around a small, white tarp. I don’t know how I walked over there. My legs felt like solid lead. With every step I took, I felt a piece of my soul die. The medical examiner looked up at me, let out a heavy sigh, and gently lifted the corner of the white plastic. Under the tarp was the pale yellow autumn sweater I had dressed her in that very morning. The beautiful fabric had been soaked into a repulsive grayish-brown. Her tiny face was bloated and paper-white. Her lips were a deep, bruised purple. Her eyebrows were furrowed tight. It looked like she had been so incredibly terrified in the water. I dropped to my knees. Reaching out, I gently wrapped my hand around her tiny fingers. They were so cold my heart practically stopped. There was thick black sludge packed under her fingernails. Strands of river weed were tangled around her knuckles. She must have been fighting the current, desperately trying to grab onto anything she could. But she caught nothing. The detectives were saying something to me. They were explaining that the current was too aggressive, that there was a hidden undertow, that once she fell in, she was swept away instantly. Because the cameras didn’t catch the fall, they had to classify it as an accidental drowning for now. I couldn’t hear any of it. I just kept my head bowed, using the cuff of my shirt to gently wipe the mud off her cold cheeks. I would wipe a spot, stain my sleeve, and use a clean patch of fabric to wipe again. “Don’t be scared, baby. Daddy is here.” There was a massive, suffocating lump in my throat. My voice shook violently. “Daddy is going to take you home. We’ll turn on the fireplace. You love sitting by the fire. Daddy will make you some hot pastries.” She didn’t move. From that exact second, my entire world stopped spinning. After they finished processing the scene, the coroner told me she had to be taken to the morgue’s cold storage while they waited for the investigation to close. I held onto Sophie and refused to let go. “No cold storage,” I shook my head frantically. “My daughter hates the cold. She’s terrified of the dark. It’s too freezing in there. She’ll be so scared.” I begged them for hours. Maybe they just took pity on a broken man. Eventually, the captain signed a special release form, allowing me to take her directly to the crematorium. The hallway was completely empty. I sat alone on a metal bench, staring blankly at the heavy iron doors. The phone in my pocket wouldn’t stop vibrating. I pulled it out. It was Megan. There were dozens of missed calls from the afternoon stretching into the night. She had finally realized her daughter hadn’t come home. Looking at the word ‘Wife’ flashing on the screen, it felt like I was looking at a complete stranger’s name. The heavy iron doors finally pushed open. The attendant handed me a wooden urn. It was still warm to the touch. That sickening warmth seeping through the wood was the absolute last trace of heat my daughter would ever leave in this world. I clutched the urn tightly to my chest and answered the phone. Megan’s voice immediately exploded through the speaker, high-pitched and frantic. “Declan! Where the hell did you take our daughter?!” “The preschool said you never brought her back yesterday! Are you out of your mind? Are you seriously using our child to scare me?!” The crematorium hallway was dead quiet, making her shrill voice echo off the tiles in a way that sounded utterly pathetic. I lowered my head, using my sleeve to gently dust off a speck of ash on the wooden box. “You don’t need to look for her anymore,” I said softly. Megan paused. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” “Sophie is dead.” I pressed my cheek against the warm wood and closed my eyes. “I am holding her ashes right now.”

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