Category: English

For our fifth wedding anniversary, Julian’s ‘gift’ to Eleanor was forcing her to drink nine hundred ninety-nine bottles of strong liquor. “Julian, I really can’t drink any more…” I pleaded, my voice hoarse. He scoffed, leaning closer to me. “Your parents loved drinking so much, didn’t they? Loved it enough to drive drunk and wipe out my entire family. As their daughter, you must share their passion.” “I’m so sorry.” My eyes burned with desperate tears. “Sorry” – I’d said it a million times, it was a habit now. “But my parents already paid for their sin with their lives. Isn’t that… isn’t that enough?” “Their deaths won’t bring my family back!” He savagely squeezed my jaw, his grip so powerful it felt like my bones would shatter. “Eleanor Vance, it’s only been five years. Are you already giving up?” He released me, then flicked his eyes at the bodyguards behind him. “Force her.” Two men in black suits stepped forward. One pinned my shoulders, the other pried open my mouth. The icy liquor poured down my throat, making me choke, tears streaming down my face. I was powerless to fight back. I slumped to the floor, my face flushed with agony, my clothes drenched in alcohol. When would this torment finally end? I didn’t know. “Julian, weren’t we supposed to have a romantic candlelit dinner? What’s going on here?” A clear female voice suddenly chimed in from the doorway. Through my tear-filled eyes, I saw Vivian Hayes standing there, dressed in a white dress, her long hair cascading over her shoulders, her face as beautiful as a painting. My breath hitched. A wave of profound sadness washed over me. Vivian… she really did look exactly like my twenty-two-year-old self. No wonder Julian chose to keep her by his side. Seeing Vivian, Julian’s expression softened instantly. “Sweetheart, could you wait a moment? Today is my wedding anniversary with Eleanor, and I’m giving her a gift.” Hearing this, Vivian cast a disdainful glance at me, then tugged playfully on Julian’s sleeve. “Don’t waste your time on someone so unworthy, okay?” Julian fell silent. Clearly, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. So he gently changed the subject. “Come on, are you hungry? I’ll take you to dinner right now.” With that, he took Vivian’s hand and walked towards the exit. However, as they passed me, Vivian deliberately reached out, knocking over the stack of countless liquor bottles piled beside her. *CRASH!* The bottle tower collapsed with a deafening roar. Glass shards flew everywhere, showering down on me. I instinctively shielded my head and face, but I was still cut and bruised all over. “Oh!” Vivian gasped. “I didn’t mean to! Should we send her to the hospital?” Julian didn’t even spare me a glance. “Don’t bother with her.” He lifted Vivian’s hand, his brow furrowed. “You cut your hand.” It was just a shallow red mark, not even bleeding, yet Julian treated it like fragile porcelain, gently kissing her fingertips. “Does it hurt?” Vivian wrapped her arms around his neck, initiating a kiss. “Not anymore, not like this.” Julian quickly took control, deepening the kiss. I lay in a pool of my own blood, listening to the sounds of their lips intertwining, my heart twisting in agony. “Vivian…” In the throes of passion, Julian whispered Vivian’s pet name. Vivian. Eleanor. How similar the names sounded. The kiss ended, and Julian, now consumed by desire, swept Vivian into his arms. Without looking back, he told the bodyguards, “Clean this up. Don’t let her die.” He paused, his voice as cold as ice. “Her body is the only thing left of her that’s worth tormenting.” I watched him carry Vivian away, my heart torn in two. Things had changed, people were gone, and everything was over. Tears flowed before I could even speak. The love we once shared felt like a distant, faded memory. Five years ago today, we should have been the happiest newlyweds. Julian would have held me close, kissed my forehead, and said, “Eleanor, I finally married you.” But now, he held another woman in his arms. We grew up together, childhood sweethearts, inseparable from kindergarten all the way through university. Everyone knew how deeply Julian loved Eleanor. If I casually mentioned wanting a cake from across town late at night, he’d drive two hours through a blizzard to get it. When I had period cramps, he’d stay up all night, gently rubbing my stomach. On the day he proposed, he knelt to put shoes on my feet, promising to cherish me like a princess for the rest of my life. Then, the car accident on our wedding day changed everything. My parents, driving under the influence, killed Julian’s entire family. That day, our wedding turned into a funeral, and my lover became my enemy. He lost his father, his mother, and his sister. The Blackwood family, utterly obliterated, with only his name left. His hatred was boundless. He immediately sent my parents to prison, specifically instructing people to give them “special attention.” The last time I saw them was when I was notified that my parents had taken their own lives. In prison, the elderly couple had already been tortured beyond recognition, skeletal and covered in wounds. After their resolute act of slitting their wrists, they were barely clinging to life, with only a final breath left. They gently caressed my face, their voices choked with sobs. “Ellie, your father and I did something wrong. We deserve to go and atone to the Blackwood family. But you did nothing wrong. You must live well…” “Julian hates you, but he also deeply loved you once… Your father and I are begging you, no matter what happens, you must endure for five years. If after five years, you still find no hope for living, then… then come join us.” That day, my parents died. And I became the one to continue paying for the Blackwood family’s atonement. Five years, over eighteen hundred days and nights, I was tormented by Julian in every conceivable way. Kneeling in the snow during the bitterest winter, locked in a scorching room without AC in the dead of summer, forced to eat foods I was deathly allergic to… Countless times, I contemplated suicide, but that five-year promise repeatedly pulled me back from the brink of death. Until three months ago, when Vivian appeared. She looked like me, her name sounded like mine – she was Julian’s carefully selected replacement. He poured all his love into this substitute, while unleashing all his torment upon me, the original. His methods of torture were always bizarre, and I should have been used to it. But watching them kiss countless times, hearing him call her “Vivian,” witnessing him showering her with the same affection he once showed me, I still felt a suffocating pain. Now, only seven days remained until the five-year term was up. Lying in a pool of blood, I fumbled for the family photo tucked inside my clothes. Blood seeped from my fingertips, staining the picture. The three people in the photo smiled brightly, a dream now unreachable. “Mom… Dad…” I whispered softly. “I’ll hold on for just seven more days… After seven days… I’ll come find you…” When I next awoke, it was the following day. I was lying in the guest room bed, my wounds already treated and wrapped in clean, white bandages. I touched the family photo over my heart, remembering the five-year promise to my parents— Six days left. I had to listen to them and try to find a reason to live. Seeing the circled date on the calendar, I remembered it was Julian’s birthday. One last try, I told myself. I forced myself to ignore the pain in my hands, busying myself in the kitchen all day. When my fingers blistered from burns, I simply bandaged them and kept going. The cake batter burnt twice, but I patiently started over each time. Finally, by evening, a delicate chocolate cake was finished. I then pulled out a photo album, cherished for years, and selected a few old pictures of Julian and me from our youth, assembling them into a handmade album. Finally, I mustered the courage to text Julian: [Julian, I’m waiting for you at our old spot. There’s something I want to tell you.] After the message sent successfully, I left the house and drove to the restaurant we used to frequent. I arrived half an hour early, placing the cake and gift on the table, nervously waiting. Julian was an hour late. When he pushed open the door, he was impeccably dressed in a suit, his expression cold and stern. His face instantly darkened upon seeing the cake on the table. “Did you forget I don’t celebrate my birthday after my family died?” he said icily, then swept the cake off the table. Cream splattered onto my dress, but I didn’t flinch. “I know… but it’s been so many years. My parents paid with their lives, and I’ve suffered so much…” My voice trembled. “Can we just let go of each other and start over?” “No!” Julian’s answer was definitive. “The torment you’ve endured is nowhere near a tenth of what I experienced.” He leaned in close, his eyes blazing with an inferno of hatred. “Eleanor Vance, because your parents drove drunk, I watched my mom, dad, and sister die right in front of me. My loving grandfather saw their bodies, was heartbroken, and suffered a fatal brain hemorrhage. Overnight, my family was destroyed.” He gripped my chin. “You want me to let it go? How could I possibly do that?” Tears streamed down my face. “I’m so sorry… I really…” “Julian!” A sweet voice interrupted me. Vivian ran in, wearing a white dress, holding a glass jar filled with colorful origami cranes. “Happy Birthday!” She smiled brightly, handing the jar to Julian. “I folded them myself, a thousand of them. From now on, every time you take one out, you can make a wish to me.” Julian froze. My heart felt like it was being brutally squeezed by an invisible hand. The scene was all too familiar. When I was eighteen, I had given Julian a jar of origami cranes just like that, and said the exact same words. “Vivian…” Julian’s voice was hoarse. He took the jar, his fingertips gently tracing the glass surface, his gaze distant, as if seeing someone else through Vivian. The next second, he suddenly pulled Vivian into a hug. “I love this gift.” Vivian shot me a triumphant glance, then hugged Julian back. “I’m glad you like it.” I sat by myself, my fingers unconsciously tracing the neglected photo album. My heart felt like it was being slowly carved out with a blunt knife, bleeding and torn in an instant. I never imagined that my defeat wouldn’t come from another, but from my past self. Julian would always hate the current Eleanor. But he deeply loved the girl named ‘Ellie’ in his memories. Watching them embrace intimately, I didn’t have the courage to look any longer. I got up, left the restaurant, and drove into the night. The neon lights outside the car window blurred into streaks, and tears fell uncontrollably. I wiped them away, but new tears kept welling up, endless. I thought I had long gone numb, but it still hurt. Just then, a white figure suddenly darted out from the roadside. “BANG!” A loud crash, and the car screeched to a halt. I trembled, looking up to see a figure thrown into the air by the impact, then falling heavily to the ground in front of my car. It was… Vivian?! I scrambled out of the car, my legs weak, and ran over. Sure enough, Vivian lay on the ground, a shocking pool of blood spreading beneath her. “Vivian!” Julian’s roar came from behind me. He rushed over like a madman, scooped up the unconscious Vivian, and glared at me with eyes that promised murder. “Eleanor Vance, wasn’t it enough that your family killed all of mine? Why can’t you leave even her alone?!” I trembled all over. “It wasn’t me… she ran out into the road herself…” Julian didn’t listen. He carried Vivian into the car that had just pulled up, his eyes red as he threw one last icy command: “Take her to the hospital! Make her kneel outside the ER and atone!” Two bodyguards grabbed me, roughly shoving me into another car. Outside the emergency room, Julian stood at the end of the corridor, his back rigid, like a drawn sword ready to kill. I was forced to my knees on the cold floor, my knees throbbing, but I didn’t dare move. “If anything happens to her, Eleanor Vance, I’ll make you pay with your life.” Julian’s voice was like ice, every word a knife plunging into my heart. I hung my head, tears silently splashing onto the floor. *Tick-tock, tick-tock…* Minutes dragged on, then finally, the emergency room light went out. The doctor walked out, pulling off his mask, his expression grave. “Mr. Blackwood, Ms. Hayes’s kidney was damaged in the accident. She needs a transplant immediately, or her life will be in danger.” Julian’s face changed instantly. “Arrange a matching test at once!” The doctor nodded. “Ms. Hayes has B-type blood. We need a matching donor.” Julian’s gaze shifted to me, his voice chilling. “She and Vivian have the same blood type. Make her do the matching test.” I suddenly looked up, my body trembling as I stared at him. He wanted me… to donate a kidney to Vivian? I stumbled, trying to run, but the bodyguards instantly pinned me down. Julian walked over, looking down at me, his eyes devoid of warmth. “Eleanor Vance, this is what you owe me, what you owe her. You have no right to refuse!” I trembled all over, tears blurring my vision. “Julian…” My voice choked. “Are you really going to do this to me?” He didn’t answer, just turned away coldly and told the doctor, “Arrange the surgery immediately!” Before I was wheeled into the operating room, Julian signed the consent form as my spouse. I lay on the operating table, staring at the glaring surgical lights above, my mind drifting back to the past. Fifteen-year-old Julian, carrying me with a fever, running three blocks to the hospital; eighteen-year-old Julian, heartbroken when I cut my hand chopping vegetables, never letting me into the kitchen again; twenty-year-old Julian, staying up all night to apply cream when I broke out in an allergic rash. Once upon a time, if I felt even the slightest discomfort, his eyes would redden with worry, wishing he could suffer in my place. “Ellie, I’ll protect you from now on. You’ll never be hurt again.” But now, it was also him who personally sent me to the operating table. After the surgery, I was wheeled back to the ward. The anesthesia slowly wore off, and the pain in my wound made me tremble all over. I bit my lip, refusing to cry out. The nurses, while applying my medicine, quietly gossiped: “Mr. Blackwood is so good to his wife. He stayed outside the operating room the whole time, never leaving her side.” “I know, right? Such a handsome and rich man, and so devoted to his wife. I really envy their relationship. Ms. Hayes is truly blessed.” Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I weakly mumbled, “I’m his wife…” The nurses froze, then quickly and awkwardly left. Silence returned to the ward, broken only by the drip of the IV. I struggled to prop myself up, wanting to go to the bathroom. But as soon as I got out of bed, my legs gave way, and I collapsed to the floor, my wound hitting the bed frame. The pain made my vision swim. The ward door opened a crack. Julian stood outside, subconsciously taking a step forward. But when he saw me struggling to get up, he abruptly stopped. He withdrew his hand, turned, and walked away. His assistant followed, puzzled. “Mr. Blackwood, you clearly care about Ms. Vance, so why…” Julian paused, his voice icy. “This is her torment. She deserves it.” The assistant hesitated, then spoke again. “But it wasn’t Ms. Vance’s fault back then. Her parents already paid with their lives, and you’ve tormented her for five years. Isn’t that enough?” Julian remained silent for a long time, finally replying, “If I let her go, who will let me go?” After that, I remained in the hospital, and no one came to visit me. Until the buzzing of my phone startled me awake from a hazy sleep. I struggled to find my phone. The screen displayed a message from an unknown number: [Your kidney is working great for me~ From now on, not just your kidney, but everything you have—including Julian—will be mine!] Attached below was a photo: Vivian’s slender wrist, prominently adorned with the emerald heirloom bracelet my mother had left me. That was… the last relic my parents had left me. My blood ran cold instantly. I violently yanked out the IV needle. Blood spurted from the back of my hand, but I didn’t bother to wipe it, stumbling and rushing towards Vivian’s ward. When I pushed open the door, Vivian was leisurely leaning against the headboard. Seeing me enter, a triumphant smile curved her lips. “Well, well, isn’t it our kidney-donating hero? What, here to visit your kidney?” I stared intently at the bracelet on her wrist, my voice trembling. “Give it back to me!” Vivian lightly caressed the bracelet, smiling innocently. “Why should I give it to you? Julian said it looks beautiful on me, and that it makes me look a lot like the old you, so he gave it to me.” I felt a chill spread through me. I reached out to grab it, but stopped myself abruptly, afraid of damaging the bracelet. I swallowed my pride and pleaded, “This bracelet means a lot to me. I can exchange it for anything else you want, anything I can give you…” Vivian tilted her head, feigning innocence as she thought. “There’s nothing I really want. The only thing I’m missing… is the title of Mrs. Blackwood.” She chuckled. “How about you give that position to me?” I closed my eyes for a moment, my voice hoarse. “Okay. As long as you give me the bracelet back, I’ll let you become Mrs. Blackwood!” The words had barely left my lips when the ward door was violently pushed open. Julian stood in the doorway, his face terrifyingly dark. “Eleanor Vance, in your eyes, my wife’s title is less important than a lifeless object?” I froze, my throat tight. “This is the last thing my parents… left me.” “Parents?” Julian sneered, hatred surging in his eyes. He ripped the bracelet from Vivian’s wrist. “I almost forgot, anything related to your parents, I want to destroy!” With that, he turned and walked towards the window, raising his hand to throw the bracelet down! “No!” I shrieked, throwing myself forward without a second thought. The moment I collided with Julian, the bracelet flew from his hand, and I, too, tumbled out the window— “Eleanor Vance!” Julian’s voice was almost a撕裂. He reached out to grab me, but only clutched at empty air. “THUD!” I crashed heavily onto the lawn below. The bracelet shattered beside me, emerald fragments piercing my palm, but I felt no pain. In a haze, I saw Julian rush downstairs like a madman, kneeling beside me, trembling as he gathered me into his arms: “Eleanor Vance! Eleanor Vance!” His voice held a panic I’d never heard before, just like that fire many years ago when he rushed into the flames to find me, calling my name just like this. “Doctor! Call a doctor, fast!” My consciousness blurred. A faint glimmer of hope ignited in my heart— Did he still care about me? Was it possible… that he still cared about me just a little? When I next awoke, my whole body ached as if it had been crushed and reassembled. In the ward, the doctor was speaking softly with Julian. “Mrs. Blackwood has multiple fractures and internal organ damage. She needs careful rest, or there will be lasting complications.” Julian ordered coldly, “Give her the best medicine.” The doctor nodded and left. Julian turned, his eyes meeting mine as I opened them. Our eyes locked. The concern in his instantly vanished, replaced by coldness. “Don’t think that just because I’m giving you the best medicine means I still care about you.” He walked closer, looking down at me, his voice cruel. “I just want you to live longer, so I can torment you better.” “The moment your parents killed my family, our fate was sealed—” “It will only be an endless cycle of suffering until death!” I stared at him blankly, tears silently falling. So… I had just been fooling myself. I slowly closed my eyes and whispered, “Okay, then I’ll just die.” My voice was too soft; Julian didn’t hear me clearly. He frowned, leaning closer. “What did you just say?” I opened my mouth, about to repeat myself, when the ward door suddenly burst open. A nurse rushed in. “Mr. Blackwood, Ms. Hayes needs to go for her check-up, but she can’t find you and refuses to cooperate…” Julian’s brow furrowed. He turned and left, not sparing me even a glance. … The moment the ward door closed, I pulled out my IV needle. Ignoring the excruciating pain and the doctor’s protests, I checked myself out of the hospital. My time was running out. Since I had decided to die, I should take care of some arrangements beforehand. I gave a bitter smile. Julian… he wouldn’t even claim my body. I went to a photography studio and had a memorial photo taken. Then I bought a burial plot and chose a small urn. When I returned to the villa, the sound of padding paws came from the living room. A golden retriever joyfully bounded over, its tail wagging like a propeller, its wet nose rubbing against my leg. My eyes welled up. I crouched down and hugged it. “Buddy…” This was the dog Julian and I had adopted together when we were eighteen. Back then, we had just moved in together. He held this little puppy, smiling, and said, “Ellie, from now on, we’re a family of three. We’ll grow old together.” But now, the family was gone, the love was gone, and growing old together was just a pipe dream. “Woof!” Buddy brought over a toy ball, looking at me expectantly. I stroked his head. “Good boy. Mama will make you something delicious.” I forced myself to cook Buddy some meat porridge. Watching him gobble it down, my heart ached. I would be leaving this world in three days. Buddy was getting old; I had to find him a good home. After searching all day, I finally found a suitable adopter. A retired couple, with a yard, experienced in raising golden retrievers. I packed Buddy’s toys and dog food. Just as I was about to take Buddy out, the villa door suddenly swung open. Vivian walked in, high heels clicking, her gaze falling on Buddy, a cold smile curving her lips. “Eleanor Vance, Julian hates you and has destroyed most of the things you cherish. Now… only this dog is left, right?” My body tensed. I instinctively shielded Buddy behind me. “What do you want?” “Julian hasn’t even said anything, you have no right to touch him!” My voice trembled. “This is our dog, we’ve had him for ten years. He cares about him too, he won’t let you hurt him!” Vivian scoffed. “You’re too naive. He hates you, and everything connected to you!” She clapped her hands, and two bodyguards immediately rushed in, roughly grabbing Buddy’s collar! “No!” I lunged forward to stop them, but was shoved aside. My forehead hit the coffee table, and blood instantly streamed down. Buddy, startled, struggled wildly to protect me, but he was struck by a stun baton and collapsed, whimpering. “Buddy!” I screamed, my heart tearing apart. I desperately pushed past the bodyguards to hold my dog, accidentally bumping into Vivian. “Ah!” Vivian tumbled down the stairs, a pool of blood instantly spreading on the floor. “What are you doing?!” Julian’s voice roared from the doorway. Seeing the scene, he instantly strode over, scooped up Vivian, and glared at me with icy eyes. “You pushed her? She just had a kidney transplant, are you trying to kill her?!” My face was covered in blood. I trembled, pointing at the dying Buddy. “She beat Buddy to death first! He didn’t do anything wrong!” Julian paused, his gaze falling on Buddy’s lifeless body, his eyes momentarily distant. But soon, he said coldly, “It’s better that he’s dead.” “Any proof of our love should not remain.” Those words utterly shattered me. I looked at him in agony, tears flowing uncontrollably. He was right… nothing should remain. After all, he didn’t even love *me* anymore. “Julian…” Vivian weakly leaned in his arms. “My leg hurts so much…” Julian kissed her forehead, his eyes full of tenderness. “Hold on. I’ll take you to the hospital right away. Before we go, think about how you want to punish her?” Vivian leaned in his embrace, her voice weak. “How about… we lock her in the basement and starve her for a day? Let her reflect properly.” “Okay,” Julian said, picking up Vivian and leaving without a backward glance. “Lock her in.” I was locked in the basement. It was dark, damp, and freezing cold. After an unknown amount of time, the door opened. Vivian walked in, carrying a small jar, a sweet smile on her face. “Hungry? Weren’t you so attached to that dog?” She lifted the lid. Inside was a pile of greyish-white powder— “Come, I’m sending you to be reunited.” My pupils constricted. Before I could react, Vivian grabbed my chin, forcing the ashes into my mouth! “Mmm… No… Don’t…” I struggled desperately, but I was too weak to resist, forced to swallow several mouthfuls. “Does it taste good?” Vivian’s smile was twisted. “This is your beloved ‘Buddy’!” Only when the jar was empty did Vivian pat her hands in satisfaction, clean up the scene, and leave. “Buddy… Buddy…” I was in unbearable agony, collapsing in dry heaves, but nothing came up. I curled up on the floor, my tears long gone, my consciousness slowly fading. A high fever made my body burn, and my wounds began to get infected. In a daze, I felt someone gently pick me up, wipe the grime from my face with a wet towel, and carefully apply medicine to the wound on my forehead. “Ellie…” A familiar voice whispered in my ear, carrying a tenderness I hadn’t heard in so long. Was it a dream? I tried hard to open my eyes, but only saw a blurry outline— Julian, his eyes red, was gently feeding me medicine. My eyelashes trembled. I didn’t dare fully open my eyes, fearing that the next second, he would simply leave. Perhaps, after all, we couldn’t completely hate each other. But love… that was also impossible now. Julian’s phone suddenly rang, breaking the oppressive silence in the room. He released the hand that was supporting me and walked aside to answer the call. On the other end, Vivian’s voice held undisguised excitement. “Julian, I… I haven’t had my period in over a month. I went to the hospital for a check-up, and do you think… we’re going to have a baby?” Her voice was soft, with a careful, hopeful tone. “I’ve already thought of names. If it’s a boy, we’ll call him Nathan Blackwood, and if it’s a girl, Naomi Blackwood. How does that sound?” Julian’s fingers tightened sharply around his phone. Nathan Blackwood. Naomi Blackwood. These names were like a blunt knife, savagely stabbing into his heart. He vaguely remembered five years ago, I had leaned against him, my eyes sparkling as I said, “Julian, how about we have two children in the future? A boy named Nathan, a girl named Naomi. That way, even when we’re old, we’ll always remember how much we loved each other now…” Back then, I had smiled so sweetly, as if our future would be forever happy. “Julian? Are you listening?” Vivian’s voice pulled him back to reality. Julian’s throat bobbed. He subconsciously replied, “Okay, those names are fine.” He paused, his voice low. “I’m coming to the hospital now.” Hanging up the phone, Julian glanced back at me, sleeping in the bed. I had opened my eyes at some point, quietly watching him, my gaze as lifeless as a dried-up well. Julian felt a strange pang in his heart. He wanted to say something, but in the end, he just turned and left. The moment the door closed, I slowly closed my eyes. How wonderful, he had new hope… And I, I could finally die. After that, Julian never came back. Until the last day of the five-year promise, I could finally die. I forced myself out of bed and called a delivery service for a bouquet of white lilies and some offerings. It had been too long since I visited my parents. After they died, Julian hated them so much that he never allowed me to mourn them. Now that I was about to die, I should at least go see them. “Where are you going?” Just as I reached the door, Julian returned, his face dark as he stared at the lilies in my hand. My voice was very soft. “One last time… let me go see them.” “Please,” I looked up, tears in my eyes, “I also want to visit your parents, too…” “You still have the nerve to mention them?!” Julian violently gripped my neck, his eyes burning with boundless hatred. “Your parents killed them, how dare you go to their graves?!” I struggled to breathe, my face slowly turning pale, but I didn’t fight back. I just looked at him silently, as if waiting for release. Julian’s heart suddenly trembled. He instinctively loosened his grip. I fell to the floor, coughing violently, a stark red mark left on my pale neck. Julian stared at me, his voice icy. “Fine. You can go to their graves.” “But you’ll go from here, crawling on your knees, step by painful step, all the way to their graves. With every kneel, you’ll shout—’I am a sinner, I deserve to die a thousand deaths!’” He leaned down, pinching my chin, his eyes full of mockery. “After all, your parents are dead. The only one left to atone… is you.” I looked at him, slowly nodding. “Okay.” The scorching sun beat down. I knelt on the burning ground, my forehead hitting the earth heavily. “I am a sinner, I deserve to die a thousand deaths!” “I am a sinner, I deserve to die a thousand deaths!” “I am a sinner, I deserve to die a thousand deaths!” My voice was hoarse, but each shout was clearer than the last. One step, one kneel, one bow. From the villa to the cemetery, a full ten kilometers. Passersby stared, some pointing, some pulling out their phones to record. But I seemed oblivious to the outside world, mechanically repeating the ritual of kneeling and bowing. My knees were raw, a bloody mess, blood seeping through my pants. My knees were worn out, the blood mixing with sweat and stinging my eyes. But I never stopped. Julian drove slowly behind me. He watched my frail figure inch forward under the blazing sun, watched the trail of blood from my knees stretch into a long red mark, watched how every bow seemed to drain all the strength from my body… His fingers unconsciously tightened on the steering wheel, veins bulging. From day to night, I finally crawled to the cemetery. My knees were a bloody mess, my forehead bore a thin crust of dried blood over the wounds. I swayed, on the verge of collapsing at any moment. But I forced myself, step by step, to Julian’s parents’ tombstone. “Sir, Madam…” My voice was hoarse. “I’m so sorry…” Again and again. Julian stood by, his eyes cold. “Do you think apologies are useful? Even if you say it a thousand, ten thousand times, it won’t bring them back. Your entire family are sinners.” I didn’t argue. I just struggled to move to my parents’ tombstone again. In the photo, my parents smiled gently, as if looking at me. I gently caressed the tombstone, tears silently falling. Dad, Mom… I’m coming to find you. What our family owed him, I’ll pay with my life. I can’t hold on anymore. Let me be free, and let him, Let himself go. After the memorial, night had fallen deep. Julian drove in silence. I sat in the passenger seat, the blood on my knees and forehead dry, my entire being like a hollow shell, as if my soul had been drained. Halfway there, Vivian’s call came in. “Julian, the test results are back, I’m pregnant!” Her voice held undisguised excitement. “The doctor said the baby is very healthy. Can you come pick me up from the hospital, please?” Julian’s fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel. He subconsciously glanced at me beside him. My gaze was empty, staring out the window, as if completely unaware of everything. “Okay, I’ll be right there,” he finally said. The car pulled over. Julian said coldly, “Go home yourself.” I didn’t respond, just quietly pushed open the car door and stepped out into the night. The car door closed, and the engine sound faded into the distance. I lowered my head to look at my phone— 00:00. The five-year term was up. I looked at the brightly lit bridge spanning the river in the distance, and suddenly smiled. These past five years, Julian and I had gone from love to hatred. I couldn’t blame him, but I couldn’t blame my parents either. No one wanted that accident to happen. Just as Julian said, between us, it was an endless cycle of suffering. Now that I was dead, everything could finally end. The night wind ruffled my long hair. I walked step by step towards the edge of the bridge. The river surface, dark as ink, mirrored the scattered city lights. It was as if another world was beckoning me. I stood by the railing, taking one last look back at the city lights. “Julian,” I whispered in my heart, “Goodbye forever.” The next second, I let go, and plunged down— “SPLASH!” The icy river instantly swallowed me. The immense impact felt like my internal organs were being crushed. Darkness, suffocation, and bone-chilling cold swept over me… But I felt an unprecedented sense of relief. Finally… freed.

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Elara Hayes found herself back at 27, reborn. She had two children, a son and a daughter, and was married to Dominic Thorne, the global billionaire. The man who consistently topped the Forbes list, was hailed by *Time* magazine as “the world’s most desirable bachelor,” and whom even the British monarchy reportedly wished to marry off their princess to. Everyone said she was incredibly lucky. Yet, the first thing she did was take a divorce agreement to his first love. She slid the papers across the table to Cassandra Sterling, her voice calm. “I want a divorce. Dominic is yours. The children are yours too.” Cassandra stared at her, stunned, unable to believe that the woman who’d occupied the “Mrs. Thorne” title for six years would suddenly give it up so willingly. Elara simply added, a faint weariness in her tone, “Since they both prefer you, I’ll grant your wishes. Just get Dominic to sign, and once the mandatory waiting period is over, I’ll leave.” This time, she refused to repeat her past mistakes. She refused to remain the invisible Mrs. Thorne, overlooked by everyone. Cassandra’s fingers unconsciously traced the rim of her coffee cup, her brow furrowed. “Elara, what game are you playing?” Elara watched the shifting expressions on Cassandra’s face, repeating calmly, “No game. I’m just fed up.” “Elara, do you have any idea how many women out there would kill for your position?” “I do.” Elara met her gaze. “Which is why I’m giving it to you.” A crack finally appeared in Cassandra’s composure. She stared at the agreement for a long time, then finally picked it up. “Alright. Since you’re so generous, I won’t refuse.” “But remember, what I get my hands on, I never let go of.” “Don’t worry,” Elara offered a small smile. “I won’t regret it. Not ever.” After all, in her previous life, she’d already tasted the bitterness of a solitary existence. Cassandra rose and moved to another table in the coffee shop. With an elegant flick of her wrist, she pulled out her phone, her fingers dancing across the screen. When the call connected, her voice instantly softened. “Dominic, I’m at the Blue Mountain Café. Can you come pick me up?” Elara sat nearby, a bitter smile playing on her lips. Once upon a time, when she called Dominic, his assistant answered nine out of ten times. Now, in less than twenty minutes, the man who was perpetually “in a meeting” appeared at the café entrance. Through the glass, Elara watched Dominic stride into the café, his broad shoulders and narrow waist accentuated by his custom-tailored black suit. Six-year-old Leo and four-year-old Mia instantly rushed to Cassandra, showering her with hugs and kisses. “Auntie Cassie!” Mia chirped sweetly, rubbing her little face against Cassandra’s arm. Dominic placed a cake box on the table, his long fingers gently pushing it toward her. “Your favorite matcha. I specifically asked the chef to go easy on the sugar.” Cassandra’s eyes lit up. “You always remember.” Elara sat in the corner, her fingers unconsciously digging into her palm. Six years of marriage, and Dominic didn’t even know her favorite flavor. Last life, when she was hospitalized and craved strawberry cake, he had his assistant buy a random one. It turned out to be mango, which she was allergic to. “What do you want for dinner tonight?” Dominic’s voice was deep. “French, or Italian?” Cassandra smiled, taking the divorce agreement from her bag. “Before that, there’s a document I’d like you to see.” She opened the agreement to the signature page. “I’ve set my sights on a villa, but I’m a bit short on liquid funds. Could you…?” Dominic took the pen, signing without even glancing at the contents. “Between us, why be so formal?” “Auntie Cassie, are you buying a new house?” Leo asked, looking up. “Dad, why don’t you buy one next door? Mia and I want to move in with Auntie Cassie. We don’t want to stay with Mom every day.” Dominic’s brow furrowed slightly, but seeing the children’s expectant faces, he relented. “Alright, I’ll buy one.” “No need for such trouble,” Cassandra quickly said. “I’ll just leave three rooms for Leo and Mia… and you. You can come and stay whenever you like.” The children cheered with delight. Mia even hugged Cassandra’s neck and gave her a kiss. “Auntie Cassie is the best! A thousand times better than Mom!” Elara’s heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, a dull ache that made it almost impossible to breathe. She saw the slight upward curve of Dominic’s lips—a gentle smile he had never once given her. Unable to watch any longer, she grabbed her bag and walked out. The moment she stepped outside, memories of her previous life flooded back. In her past life, she and Dominic had an arranged business marriage. She bore him a son and a daughter, lived to 62, but was never truly happy. All because Dominic’s heart had always belonged to his childhood sweetheart, Cassandra Sterling. After their breakup years ago, Cassandra went abroad. Dominic drowned his sorrows for a few days, but being too proud to beg her to stay, he soon agreed to his family’s arranged marriage. Dominic had been her teenage dream, as noble as a god. Every socialite in the city dreamed of marrying the head of the Thorne family. So, when she learned of their impending marriage, she was overjoyed. But after the wedding, despite pouring her entire heart into loving him, all she received was Dominic’s perpetual distance and coldness. It wasn’t until Cassandra returned home. He never mentioned divorce to Elara, yet his gaze never left Cassandra. Even worse, both children grew fond of Cassandra and gradually distanced themselves from her. In her later years, Elara was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Dominic, under the guise of “quiet recuperation,” abandoned her alone in the old mansion. On her birthday, she shakily dialed her husband and children, only to learn they were with Cassandra on vacation in the Maldives. She tried to make herself a special birthday meal, but her confused memory made her forget to turn off the stove… As the flames consumed her, the last thing Elara remembered was Dominic’s icy gaze when he placed the wedding ring on her finger. She closed her eyes in agony, her sole wish being that if there was a next life, she would never again sacrifice her entire existence for him. It was late when Elara returned to the mansion. Instead of resting, she immediately began to clear out her belongings. Dominic’s suits and shirts, the children’s toys, family photos… one by one, everything was tossed into cardboard boxes. “What are you doing?” Dominic’s voice suddenly echoed behind her. Elara turned to see him standing at the doorway, holding the children’s hands, his brow deeply furrowed. “Mommy, why are you throwing away our stuff!” Mia ran over, her little face red with anger at seeing her teddy bear in a box. Leo also glared at her furiously. “We just went to play with Auntie Cassie for a bit. Do you have to be so upset?” Dominic looked at her, his gaze as cold as ever. “The children like being with Cassandra. Do you really have such a tantrum over something so trivial?” “I’m not upset,” Elara said calmly. “Liar!” Mia shrieked. “You’re just jealous of Auntie Cassie! That’s why you threw away my teddy bear. You’re a bad mommy!” “When I grow up, I’m moving in with Auntie Cassie,” Leo said, pulling his sister’s hand, his voice venomous. “I’ll never come back to see you!” Dominic didn’t stop the children’s shouting. He merely frowned slightly, his deep eyes briefly sweeping over Elara. His gaze was like that of someone looking at an unreasonable stranger. “Enough.” His thin lips parted, his deep voice carrying an inherent air of nobility. His long fingers absently adjusted his cuff links. “I have a video conference for the board. Throw whatever you want, just don’t make a scene.” The moment the door closed, Elara’s tears finally fell. Her heart felt torn to shreds, every breath tasting of blood. She wiped away her tears, looked at the mess around her, and suddenly laughed. Don’t worry, she wouldn’t bother him. Not for the rest of her life. From the moment the divorce agreement was signed, Elara stopped managing the household. She no longer woke up at five in the morning to prepare nutritious breakfasts for the children. She no longer waited up for Dominic to return from his late-night engagements to make him a hangover remedy. All the chores she once considered her duty were now left to the housekeepers. At first, no one noticed anything amiss. Until Leo was late for school and reprimanded by his teacher, Mia couldn’t find her homework, and Dominic’s pocket watch stopped ticking. The housekeepers fumbled around, yet could never meet the standards of the lady of the house. Unwashed dishes piled up in the kitchen, children’s toys lay scattered in the living room, and the ironed shirts were never quite smooth enough. The once meticulously organized home gradually descended into chaos. When Dominic pushed open the bedroom door, Elara was leaning by the window, reading. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting dappled patterns on her. “How long are you going to keep this up?” He stood at the doorway, his voice low. Elara closed her book, looking up at him. “I’m not ‘keeping anything up.’” “Then why aren’t you managing the household anymore?” He took a few steps closer, the subtle, expensive scent of his cologne filling the air. “Are you still upset about what happened last time?” “I’m not upset.” She placed the book aside. “I just don’t want to anymore.” Dominic narrowed his eyes, his long fingers lightly tapping the tabletop. “Reason.” “I’m tired,” she said calmly. “We have housekeepers. I don’t need to do it.” She remembered her previous life, waking before dawn every day. Dominic’s coffee had to be exactly 185°F, his sandwiches toasted golden and crispy. The children’s clothes had to be hand-washed, even their socks ironed flat. But what had it all been for? For Dominic’s tenderness towards Cassandra, for the children’s closeness to “Auntie Cassie,” for her lonely death on her sixty-second birthday. “Elara.” His voice turned cold. “If you’re having a tantrum, just say so. Don’t act like a three-year-old.” She tugged at the corner of her lips. “I’m not having a tantrum. I just want to rest.” Before the words fully left her mouth, the door was suddenly flung open. Leo and Mia burst in, their small faces etched with fury. “Mommy’s too lazy!” Mia shrieked. “We want Auntie Cassie to take care of us!” Leo echoed, “Auntie Cassie is gentler than you, more diligent than you, a million times better than you!” Dominic’s gaze remained fixed on Elara’s face, as if waiting for her to concede. But she simply took a deep breath and said softly, “If you think she’s so great, then invite her to stay. I have no objections.” The air instantly froze. Dominic’s face darkened completely. “Are you sure?” Elara took another deep breath. “Absolutely.” “Dad, let’s go!” Mia eagerly tugged on Dominic’s sleeve. “I want Auntie Cassie to come over right now!” “With Auntie Cassie, we don’t need you anymore!” Leo made a face at Elara. “Go away! Leave this house!” Dominic gave Elara one last look. Seeing her still unmoved, he turned and strode out with the children. Elara stood rooted to the spot, listening to the sound of the car engine fading into the distance, and gently closed her eyes. Soon, she would grant their wish. To leave them completely, to leave this home. The day Cassandra moved in, she immediately directed the housekeepers to redecorate the living room. “This sofa set is too somber,” she said, her slender fingers lightly brushing the leather. She turned to Dominic with a soft smile. “Dominic, how about we get a cream-colored one?” Dominic didn’t bat an eye, simply instructing Mrs. Gable, “Do as Ms. Sterling says.” Elara stood at the top of the stairs, watching the workers carry out the sofa she had carefully chosen just six months prior. Leo and Mia trailed behind Cassandra like two excited puppies, pointing and exclaiming, “Auntie Cassie, this cushion needs to go too! Mommy’s was so ugly!” Cassandra gently stroked their heads. “Alright, we’ll change everything.” Elara’s fingers tightened slightly, but then quickly relaxed. Those cushions were ones she had painstakingly sewn stitch by stitch during her pregnancy, stuffed with hypoallergenic down because the children had sensitive skin when they were little. Now, they were unceremoniously tossed into the trash. Over the next few days, the house grew increasingly unfamiliar. At the dining table, Cassandra sat in Elara’s usual spot, gently serving the children. Dominic would occasionally pour her a cup of coffee himself, his long fingers gently pushing it toward her, his eyes holding a softness Elara had never received. In the evenings, the living room lights would dim, and the four of them would crowd onto the sofa to watch movies. Mia would be curled in Cassandra’s lap, Leo leaning against Dominic’s shoulder, their laughter echoing through the room. When Elara walked past, they wouldn’t even glance at her, as if she were invisible. Even more absurd, Dominic, Leo, and Mia had once been meticulously particular about their quality of life. But now? She watched Cassandra casually toss his multi-million dollar Patek Philippe watch face down on the coffee table, and he just indulgently let her; she watched the children happily wear their school uniforms, thrown into the washing machine by Cassandra, with yesterday’s sauce still clinging to the collars; she watched Cassandra pour takeout onto plates and claim she cooked it, and no one ever called her out. Even more ridiculously, they doted on Cassandra as if she were a princess. “Cassandra, don’t bother with these chores.” Dominic stopped Cassandra as she reached for the tea set, his long fingers gently pressing on her wrist. “Your hands are meant for playing the piano.” “Auntie Cassie, I’ll get your bag!” Leo eagerly took Cassandra’s limited-edition handbag, an obsequious look on his face Elara had never seen directed at herself. “Ms. Sterling simply needs to rest,” Mrs. Gable respectfully offered a pair of Italian handmade slippers. “Leave everything else to us.” How ironic. She had been a housekeeper in this home for six years, and they hadn’t noticed. But Cassandra, upon arrival, became the center of their world, a princess adored by all. The housekeepers, too, whispered amongst themselves. “Mr. Thorne is so good to Ms. Sterling. I’ve never seen him treat the Mrs. like this.” “The children are so attached to her. I think, this house will have a new mistress sooner or later!” Elara was already heartbroken and indifferent, managing nothing, simply packing her own belongings in silence. Until that afternoon, her phone suddenly vibrated wildly. “Mrs. Hayes! The young master and young lady had an allergic reaction at school! The ambulance just took them to the hospital!” When Elara arrived at the hospital, both children had already been rushed into the emergency room. Dominic stood in the hallway, his suit jacket casually draped over his arm, his tie loose around his neck, his eyes burning with cold fury. “Elara.” His voice was low, filled with suppressed anger. “What exactly have you been doing?” Elara froze. “What?” “They’re allergic to mango, didn’t you know?” Dominic stepped closer, his tall figure looming over her. “Why did you let them drink mango juice?” “It wasn’t me!” Elara met his gaze. “I never buy mangoes for the house.” Ever since the children were first hospitalized for mango allergy, she had been extremely careful, repeatedly cautioning everyone not to give them mangoes, even personally reviewing the school cafeteria menu. How could she possibly make such a basic mistake? “Not you?” Dominic sneered. “Then who? The housekeepers? Or did they try to kill themselves?” Elara opened her mouth, about to speak, when a nurse pushed open the door. “The children are awake.” Inside the ward, Leo and Mia lay pale on their hospital beds. Seeing them enter, their eyes flickered. “What happened?” Dominic asked in a low voice. The two children exchanged a glance, then suddenly pointed at Elara. “It was Mommy! She bought snacks with mango in them!” Elara froze, looking at them in disbelief. “What are you saying?” “It was Mommy!” Mia cried, her voice choked with tears. “She knew we were allergic, but she still deliberately fed it to us!” Leo nodded emphatically. “She’s so mean!” Elara’s fingers gripped the doorframe tightly, her knuckles white. “Leo, Mia, do you know what you’re saying? You’d better tell the truth right now!” “Enough!” Dominic abruptly stood up, grabbing her wrist, his grip so strong it felt like he was about to crush her bones. “Elara, is this how you mother? Not only harming them, but forcing them to lie?” “I didn’t…” Elara’s voice trembled slightly. “Are you trying to say they’re framing you?” He scoffed. “How old are they? If they can’t even take responsibility for that, do you deserve to be a mother?” The two children suddenly burst into tears. Dominic immediately released her and turned to comfort them. But they cried even harder, their small faces turning red. “Daddy…” Mia whimpered. “We feel so bad…” “What can I do to make you feel better?” Dominic asked softly, gently wiping away her tears. Leo, his eyes red, looked at Elara. “She’s allergic to mangoes too. Make her drink mango juice! Make her suffer too!” A chill spread through Elara’s heart. She looked at Dominic, the coldness in his eyes making her shiver. “Alright.” He straightened up, snapped his fingers, and two bodyguards immediately entered the room. “Hold her down.” Before Elara could react, she was pinned to a chair. A bodyguard pinched her chin, forcing her mouth open. A liter of mango juice was poured down her throat. The sweet, cloying liquid choked her, and she coughed violently, her throat burning. Red rashes appeared on her skin at a visible pace, her face began to swell, and breathing became increasingly difficult. She clawed desperately at her neck, her vision blurring, as she looked towards Dominic. He stood there, watching with cold indifference, showing no intention of stopping them. The children had stopped crying, excitedly clapping their hands. “Serves her right! She deserves to suffer too!” Before darkness fully enveloped her, the last thing Elara saw was Dominic’s icy gaze. … Elara woke up in a hospital bed, an unknown amount of time later. Her throat burned, and her face was still covered in allergic rashes.

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“I need you to fake a private jet crash for me. A way out. A clean break from Julian Blackwood.” My best friend, Chloe, looked like her jaw was about to unhinge. She probably thought she was hallucinating. It was the same shock I’d felt when they announced Julian and I were getting married. A poor girl from a forgotten town, an heir from one of the city’s most powerful families—they were worlds apart. Nobody ever imagined they’d end up together. People gossiped, of course. Some whispered Julian was just looking for a new thrill. Others speculated I was nothing more than a stand-in for some ‘unattainable first love’ he couldn’t have. There were even rumors he’d married me on a dare. But after three years of marriage, Julian Blackwood proved them all wrong. He showed that there was no other reason for our wedding, except for his insane love for me. And he loved me to the point of madness. Julian fell for me at first sight and launched a relentless pursuit. Beyond showering me with gifts, he donated hundreds of millions to major charities in my name, and built elementary schools across the globe, all uniformly named ‘Anya’s School.’ He wanted everyone in the world to know me, to appreciate me, so if I ever faced trouble, countless hands would reach out to help. To spend more time with me, he joined me in my odd jobs: catering, handing out flyers, sorting packages… This pampered heir, who’d never even washed his own clothes, gritted his teeth and worked by my side for two whole years. The slender hands that once played the violin were now calloused and rough. That unwavering sincerity finally won me over. But the gap between our families was immense, and his parents absolutely forbade our relationship. To get their approval, he endured countless family punishments, physical ones that left him bruised and battered, even whip marks on his back. When he realized that wasn’t working, he simply gave up all his inheritance, striking out on his own to build an empire from scratch. No one was going to dictate his choices in love. His friends in the elite circles thought he’d completely lost his mind. This brilliant, sharp man, throwing away a fortune he couldn’t spend in ten lifetimes, all for one woman. His family had no choice but to finally agree to our marriage. After we married, he replaced all his staff with men. Even though I never asked him to, he meticulously reported his every move, installed a GPS tracker, even, just so I could check up on him. Online, people raved about our ‘fairy tale love,’ calling it the ultimate win for true romantics. Our ‘couple’s popularity’ skyrocketed, eclipsing even major celebrities. But no one, except for me, knew that this perfect husband had secretly fathered twins with another woman and built a second family behind my back. When I found out, the pain ripped through me so violently I felt like I was choking on my own heart, and then everything went black. Hearing the news, Julian canceled a multi-million-dollar deal and rushed back home, staying by my side for two days and nights without rest. When I woke up, he was there, watching over me with a worried expression, warming the IV fluid in his hand before it reached me. “You’re awake? You scared the hell out of me.” Julian pressed my hand to his face, looking on the verge of tears. He’d faced down armed men in business deals without batting an eye, but the news of my illness made his legs turn to jelly. Looking at his eyes, brimming with worry and anxiety, my heart felt like it was being torn to shreds. The love in his eyes was undeniable; he truly loved me. But did this man, who loved me so genuinely, look at Seraphina the same way? Whisper those same sweet nothings to her? Seraphina was the woman he cheated with, his childhood friend. When news of Julian pursuing me got out, Seraphina led a group to bully me at school. She’d then harassed me at my part-time jobs, ruining several of them, and even hired thugs to humiliate me. Julian caught them red-handed when he came to confess his feelings. He utterly disregarded their long-standing family ties, bankrupting Seraphina’s family without a second thought. If his mother hadn’t intervened, he would have ruined her life completely, maybe even worse. So, if I hadn’t seen those disgusting videos and the DNA test results with my own eyes, I would never have believed Julian cheated, let alone that the children were already a year old. I closed my eyes and turned away, tears streaming down my face, soaking a large patch of the pillow. Julian didn’t notice my tears, thinking I was just tired. “Anya, the doctor just checked you and found out you’re two months pregnant! We’re going to have our own baby!” The usually cold and dignified man was now as giddy as a child. “Our anniversary is in five days, and now you’re pregnant! It’s like double the celebration!” My eyes shot open. When I was a child, my father had thrown me into an icy river, causing injuries that many doctors said would make it impossible for me to ever conceive. Because of this, Julian’s parents, already not thrilled with me, had given me the cold shoulder more than once. I had tolerated it because they were Julian’s parents, but Julian refused to see me suffer for his sake. He’d declared, “Anya is the woman I love. Her choosing to be with me is a blessing I earned in a past life. If you dare give her any grief over this baby issue, then we’ll cut ties completely, and you’ll never see me again.” I gently touched my belly, unable to hold back the sobs that wracked my body. This baby… why now? Why couldn’t you have come at a different time? Julian pulled me into his arms, murmuring softly. “Why are you crying all of a sudden? Who upset you? Your husband will make them pay.” But at that moment, I smelled a faint, unfamiliar perfume on him, mixed with the distinct smell of baby formula. I shoved Julian away and leaned over the bed, vomiting. Julian thought it was morning sickness and instinctively cupped his hands beneath my chin, unafraid of me throwing up on him. He looked at me with worry. Of course, he was happy I was pregnant, but he’d been with Seraphina throughout her pregnancy and childbirth. He knew how much women suffered through pregnancy, labor, and postpartum recovery. I stared at Julian, stunned. I knew how much he hated anything dirty, yet he was willing to do this for me. He even hand-washed all my clothes and shoes, always. He’d given me three years of his wholehearted love, and I had done the same. I truly couldn’t imagine life without him. For a moment, I almost threw all my principles out the window. If Julian would just cut ties with Seraphina, maybe we could go back to how things were. But the next moment, he received a text, said there was an urgent company matter, and hurried off. Half an hour later, Seraphina sent me a photo. In it, Julian was holding the twins, leaning down to kiss their foreheads. That single photo shattered all my illusions. After leaving the hospital, I went to Chloe, asking her to fake a private jet crash for me. Because I knew Julian. He would never agree to a divorce, never let me go. He would simply lose his mind. After returning from Chloe’s, I immediately booked an abortion appointment in another state. The Blackwood family had eyes and ears everywhere, extremely powerful. If I stayed in this city, Julian would know before I even made it to the operating table.

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My credit card had been maxed out. Someone had stolen my identity. I called the police. Mid-way through giving my statement at the police station, I saw my husband, Rhys Davies, who was supposed to be away on a business trip. Trailing behind him, face flushed crimson, was Lila Stone – his first love. “Aria, is this how you waste police resources?” A withdrawal of charges statement was slapped onto the table by Rhys. “Just sign it, quickly. I don’t have time to argue with you about this nonsense.” I looked at the amount displayed on the statement—it was equivalent to three years of Rhys’s salary. I smiled. “You want me to sign it?” “Fine,” I said, meeting the smug, assured faces of Rhys and his first love. I picked up the statement. “Get on your knees and beg for forgiveness.” “Grovel at my feet.” “You missed a step.” My voice dropped, icy. “No deal.” My lawyer, who had come with me, immediately spoke up. “According to the law, fraudulently using someone else’s credit card for over $50,000 constitutes a felony—” “Enough!” Rhys brutally interrupted my lawyer, then turned, his eyes burning into me. “Aria! We’re married! Don’t make this ugly. If you push me, *you’ll* be the one regretting it, not me!” Lila, Rhys’s first love, immediately burst into tears. “Aria, I know you resent me and Rhys being together for three years. I know my presence makes you uncomfortable, but you have to be reasonable. Rhys and I met and were together first. Just because you married him doesn’t mean you can cut off all his ties with me.” Lila’s voice was choked with sobs, yet it cut through the air, sharp as a blade. “My son needed to get into a good school, and I couldn’t afford the tuition! That’s why I asked Rhys for help! Do you think I *wanted* to use your credit card? Do you think I felt good about it? It was humiliating for me too, okay?” Lila cried, her eyes red. “Before I came here with Rhys, do you know where I was? Trying to enroll my son in school! Now, the whole school knows I’m a credit card fraudster! Are you happy now?” Lila screamed the last sentence, then crumpled into Rhys’s arms. He gently stroked her back, comforting her. “It’s okay.” “I’m right here.” “As long as I’m here, I won’t let anyone mess with you or the kid,” Rhys said, still soothing Lila but not forgetting to warn me. “Aria, do you see? Even a sweet, gentle person like Lila has been driven to this by you! I advise you to sign the damn papers and clear things up with Lila. Tell everyone this was just a misunderstanding! Otherwise, how will she and her son ever live this down?” I looked at Rhys’s self-righteous, indignant face. I remembered when I first found out my credit card was stolen. I’d even wondered if something terrible had happened to Rhys. After all, Rhys hadn’t been home for a while, always claiming he was handling some big project out of town. Even for our anniversary, all I got was a cold, terse text: ‘Happy Anniversary, Wife.’ No gift. No call. He just disappeared for the entire day. Now, seeing Rhys stand there, defending another woman, I finally realized all my worries were for nothing. And if that’s the case, why should I care about his ‘face’? I walked over to Rhys, grabbed Lila’s hair, and slapped her hard. As Lila shrieked, I raised my hand again, delivering a stinging slap across Rhys’s face. I then declared, “Now, I’m not just dealing with credit card fraud.” I turned to my lawyer. “I want to accuse my husband of possible bigamy, of having another family and even an illegitimate child behind my back.”

“As for the credit card fraud,” I sneered, “since they refuse to admit their wrongdoing, we’ll proceed strictly according to the rules.” My lawyer, following my instructions, noted all my demands and was about to approach the police, but Rhys blocked his path. “Aria!” Rhys stood in front of my lawyer, his eyes like daggers, fixed on me. “Are you out of your mind? Bigamy? An illegitimate child? Do you have *any idea* how much damage your words are doing to me and Lila?” “And you,” Rhys said, looking at my lawyer with disgust. “How much did Aria pay you to do her dirty work? Do you know I’m her husband? Every penny she spends is our joint marital property! You’re using *my* money to sue *me*? Are you really that naive?” Lila, too, joined Rhys in shoving and pushing my lawyer. “How dare you sue me!” “I’ll sue Aria for assault!” Lila cried, clutching half her face, staring at me. “Don’t blame Rhys for not liking you! You’re so domineering, no man wants a woman like that! You deserve to be alone forever!” Listening to Lila’s commentary, and seeing Rhys’s fleeting flicker of guilt, I understood everything. Behind my back, this is how Rhys described me. If that’s the case, why should I put myself through any more trouble? I smiled at Lila, then looked at Rhys and nodded earnestly. “You’ve got a point.” Rhys thought Lila had convinced me. He was about to speak. “You—” But I cut him off. “After all, I’m not a morally bankrupt person like you,” I said, changing my tone. “I’m not the kind of person who’d step over their morals even if they were lying on the ground.” I pointed to my face. “If you want to sue, go ahead!” “But for now,” I smiled, “enjoy your fifteen days in lockup and the hefty compensation bill.” After all. Buying a house for Lila’s son’s schooling. If he had to pay that back, it would practically kill Rhys. I walked out of the police station and got into Finn Hayes’ car. The car radio was playing a breakup song, the singer crooning, “Happy breakup, wish you happiness, you can find someone better.” Finn handed me a green hat, asking, “Like it?” I looked at the green hat in my lap, a bitter laugh escaping me. I slapped Finn on the head. “Drive, unless you have a death wish.” I sat in the two-bedroom condo Rhys had bought for Lila. Inside the house. The layout was cozy, with a family portrait hanging in the living room: Rhys with his arm around Lila and a child. The kid, Leo, was probably at school right now, oblivious to the fact that both his parents were cooling their heels in jail. From the bills in the living room, I saw Rhys’s expenses for Lila over the past few years. From a single dollar to hundreds, then thousands, tens of thousands, and even hundreds of thousands. The figures were staggering. I remembered that in our three years of marriage, Rhys and I were often apart. He’d always use that line: “I want to be worthy of you.” This excuse stifled all my simmering resentment about our lukewarm relationship. Then, I noticed a USB drive in the TV stand drawer. In bold, block letters, it read: [Rhys Davies x Lila Stone]. I inserted the USB drive into the projector. The timeline on the screen showed last year. It was Thanksgiving weekend. My parents and I had waited for Rhys all day at our family estate. He finally showed up, festive treats in hand, apologizing about being too busy, hoping we weren’t mad. Now, watching the projected content from the USB drive, I felt as if I’d been plunged into an ice bath.

In the video, Rhys was on one knee before Lila, a bouquet of flowers in his hand, his eyes red. “All the romantic gestures I never gave you back then,” he choked out, “I’m giving it to you now.” “This house is my ultimate proof of love for you.” The background was this very house, packed with Rhys’s family. Everyone was saying, “Rhys finally caught a break.” “Seriously!” “Rhys has been through so much these past few years, living with *that woman* just to give Lila a home.” “Lila’s so lucky, so loved by Rhys. Even though he doesn’t love *that other woman*, he was willing to ‘sleep next to her’ just for the money, all for Lila.” Lila cried, her eyes red, and nodded, saying she accepted. Then, a tear-jerking kiss, a moment that moved everyone, ended with Leo’s delighted cheers. I finally understood why, even when Rhys and I were in the throes of passion, he was always so controlled. And when I brought up having a child, he’d just give me this vague, distant look. “Aria.” “We’re still young. We have plenty of time to think about kids. But your family is so powerful, so wealthy. I don’t want to just be seen as a kept man. I want people to talk about me and make you proud.” On that Thanksgiving weekend, Rhys had come home smelling of strange perfume. I wasn’t oblivious, but Rhys would always explain, “It’s just a client’s wife’s perfume. If you don’t like it, I’ll drop the deal.” Rhys was a master of disguise, and he’d protected Lila so well. Even when I knew of Lila’s existence, he’d just tell me, “If it weren’t for Lila, I wouldn’t know how to love.” “They say a woman who helps a man grow up often gets replaced by a later one. I never believed it before.” Rhys held me in his arms. “But now, I’m truly grateful for my ex. Without her, how would I have learned to appreciate such a wonderful wife.” It was all a trap. All deliberate. My fingertips went numb, and even in the blazing summer heat, shivers ran down my spine. Finn, who was sitting beside me, hadn’t dared to utter a sound until the video ended, when he gently patted my shoulder. My body reacted instinctively. I pushed Finn away and rushed to the toilet, throwing up until my head spun. As I reached for a tissue, I noticed that even the tissues were the same brand I used. I remembered someone asking Rhys at the end of the video: “Aria won’t really find out, will she?” “She’s so sensitive and suspicious.” But Rhys was utterly confident. “I’ve covered every angle. She won’t find a single flaw.” Everything—from the tissues and toiletries to the pillowcases and kitchenware—was identical to mine. Even the skincare products and perfume on the vanity were my brand. Every detail was meticulously copied, as if Rhys were truly living, loving, and marrying the same person. No wonder I never suspected anything. I thought of Lila at the police station—her hair color was *exactly* like mine. Identical. It sent a chill down my spine, but then a soft jacket was draped over my shoulders. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do?” I turned, meeting Finn’s unusually concerned gaze, and squeezed out a smile. “Of course.” My mom always said if you get hit, you hit back. If someone wrongs you, you make them feel worse. I wasn’t raised to quietly endure. My education was always about fighting fire with fire. I grabbed the deeds to this house, listed it online for 70% below market value, with one condition. The buyer had to be aggressive. Ruthless. Then, I had Finn use his connections to apply pressure, launching a full investigation into Lila’s son’s school enrollment. After that, I arranged for hair samples from Rhys and Leo to be used for a DNA paternity test.

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After marrying billionaire Alex Thorne, he gave his heart to me, but his fortune to his childhood flame, Sera Maxwell. “You claim to like me? How am I supposed to know you’re not just a gold-digger?” “For three years, I won’t give you a single penny. I want you to prove yourself!” I never wanted Alex’s money, so I stubbornly set out to prove him wrong. For three long years, I worked three jobs, doing food deliveries under scorching 104-degree heat. To save every penny, when I gave birth to Leo, I couldn’t even afford an epidural. Until our wedding anniversary, when Leo was bullied by Sera Maxwell’s son, simply because we were poor. Caleb was shielded by Alex, with his soft skin, fancy clothes, and extravagant lifestyle. Alex, without question, took his side, no matter what. And Leo? He was bruised and miserable, huddled in my arms like a frightened kitten. That’s when it hit me. “Today is the last day. Mr. Thorne, let’s get a divorce.” Alex stared at me for a moment after I spoke, silent. Then, a scoff escaped his lips: “Divorce? You can actually bring yourself to do it?” “You’ve endured three years of hardship. Tomorrow, you’ll be the undisputed Mrs. Thorne, with a twenty-million-dollar monthly allowance. You’re really going to throw away such a good life.” “All because of this minor incident, you want a divorce?” I ignored him, lowering my head to gently blow on Leo’s wounds. He’d been pushed to the ground, his knees and arms scraped raw and bloody. The large dabs of antiseptic made the wounds look even more gruesome. Leo didn’t cry. He bit back his tears, as if he’d grown used to such injustice. It tore at my heart even more. I looked up and saw the culprit, shielded behind Alex. My anger flared, completely uncontrollable: “This isn’t a minor incident! You saw the security footage, Alex. Your own child was beaten, yet you’re protecting someone else’s! Alex Thorne, do you have any heart at all?!” I rarely lost my temper. My sudden outburst seemed to startle Alex. The atmosphere grew tense, bordering on hostile. And right then, Sera Maxwell stepped in to smooth things over. “Children are so young, what do they know? Caleb already realizes he was wrong. I apologize to your Leo on his behalf, Aria.” “Aria, please don’t be angry.” I looked at Caleb, clinging to Sera’s hand, still making defiant faces at us. He didn’t look sorry in the slightest. My face darkened, and I didn’t accept her apology: “He made the mistake, he should apologize himself. As his mother, you can’t do it for him.” Sera was used to her fragile act. At my slight harshness, her lips instantly drooped, and tears welled up. She turned to Alex: “Alex…” Alex was already annoyed by my outburst, and seeing Sera’s tears made him even angrier. He snapped at me: “Enough! Kids play rough, bumps and scrapes happen. Why are you making such a big deal out of a child’s antics?” “Besides, Sera has already apologized. Don’t be so relentless.” Before I could retort. Leo, in my arms, spoke up first. “Dad, why do you always take Caleb’s side? You saw it! Caleb called Mom names first. I couldn’t stand it, so I went to get the teacher. He aggressively pushed me, and I didn’t even push back.” “Dad, do you… do you not love me?” The raw disappointment in my child’s innocent eyes stung Alex. He instinctively moved forward to offer a few comforting words, but Caleb, from behind him, grabbed onto his leg. “You’re only just figuring that out?!” “Everyone in our class knows Mr. Thorne doesn’t like you, you little beggar son. Even my mom says it! Your mom’s a beggar, and you’re a little beggar. Beggars like you don’t belong in the same school as me, and you and your mom will be kicked out of the Thorne mansion eventually!” “Then Mom and I can move in and live a good life…” Caleb’s words were cut short. Sera’s hand shot out, smacking him hard on the back of his head. “Caleb Maxwell, what nonsense are you spewing?! Apologize to Leo right now!” Caleb opened his mouth to cry and throw a tantrum, but Sera shot him a warning glance. With tears still streaming, he reluctantly walked over to us, sniffling as he mumbled: “Leo Thorne, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you or made fun of you and your mom.” Leo glanced at him, softly responded: “It’s okay.” Then he buried his face back in my arms, his voice muffled: “Mom, I don’t want to go to school here anymore.” “It’s really expensive, and Dad doesn’t give us money, so you work so hard, Mom. The other kids here don’t like me either.” Leo’s words broke my heart. I stroked his head, comforting him in a low voice: “Alright, then we won’t study here. I’ll arrange your transfer later.” The bell rang for class. The incident was over, and the two children were led back to their classrooms by the teacher. Perhaps Leo’s words had stirred a rare warmth in Alex’s heart today. As he was leaving, he offered to give me a ride. “Don’t take the bus. It’s hot; I’ll drive you.” The man leaned out of his million-dollar luxury car. According to my previous mindset, I should have refused, should have continued to wait for the bus under the scorching sun. To prove to Alex that I wasn’t a gold-digger. But I looked down at myself, still wearing my worn-out delivery uniform, and remembered Leo’s faded sneakers. Meanwhile, Sera in the passenger seat was impeccably dressed, and Caleb was covered in designer brands. The stubborn lump in my throat suddenly dissolved. Alex, proving anything didn’t matter anymore. Love did. I pulled open the car door, something I’d never done before, and got in. Alex raised an eyebrow in surprise, letting out a soft laugh: “Not playing hard to get anymore? I knew it. With the three years up, and twenty million a month starting tomorrow, how could you bear to leave me?” “Alright, where am I taking you?” I looked at Alex, my voice calm: “To the courthouse. We’re filing for divorce.”

Alex’s pupils widened slightly. He thought I was just throwing a tantrum, and a furious laugh escaped him. “Fine, fine, fine! Don’t you dare regret this!” I said nothing, staying silent the entire ride. We quietly completed all the paperwork. It wasn’t until we walked out of the courthouse that I slowly spoke: “In thirty days, we’ll come back to finalize the divorce. I’ll go home and pack; Leo and I will be leaving later.” Before Alex could respond, I flagged down a taxi and left. Sera, standing nearby, seized the opportunity to fan the flames: “Alex, don’t chase her. It’s probably good for Aria to cool down. Once that twenty million allowance hits her account tomorrow, someone who’s lived such a hard life will surely never be able to leave. But for her to constantly bring up divorce, even forcing you to come here…” “It’s truly ungrateful of her!” Alex coldly glanced at Sera’s hand clutching his arm. He pulled away, his eyes narrowed as he warned: “Stay out of my business with Aria.” “Grandpa has old ties with your family, which is why he asked me to look after you and Caleb. So, stay in your lane. I told you before: you can try to ‘test’ or ‘provoke’ Aria and Leo all you want, but don’t you dare touch my son. I don’t want to hear Caleb say those things again.” “Otherwise, I’ll pull all my investments from Maxwell Enterprises.” Sera was furious, but she still had to maintain her pitiful facade: “Alex, don’t think that of me. Kids say silly things, they don’t mean it. I was just worried that Aria was a gold-digger and wanted to help you test her. I won’t do it again.” “Speaking of Grandpa, could you drop me off at the old mansion? We can have dinner with him.” Alex ignored her, getting straight into his car: “It’s not on my way. I’m going back to the office.” “It’s hard to get a cab near the school, that’s why you asked me to give you a ride. This is downtown; you can handle yourself.” He floored the gas pedal. Sera could only watch the receding taillights, fuming. After some thought, Sera finally dialed her phone: “Hello, Grandpa, it’s Sera. Do you know, Aria suddenly filed for divorce! And she said she’s taking Leo with her!” “She’s trying to keep you from seeing your grandson, trying to threaten the Thorne family…” Alex’s car stopped at the last traffic light near his office, watching the countdown. He inexplicably thought of our marriage, now counting down its final thirty days. We definitely wouldn’t divorce. Both my son and I loved him fiercely, enduring three years of hardship without a word of leaving. But then he remembered Leo’s disappointed eyes and my utterly cold expression at the courthouse entrance. The more Alex thought about it, the more agitated he became, a strange panic slowly rising within him. He slammed his fist on the steering wheel in frustration, then turned the car around, heading home to find me. When Alex returned, I was tossing our wedding photos into a box. Calling them wedding photos was generous; they were just selfies taken with a veil. Because we had no money, I couldn’t afford proper wedding photos. I bought a cheap veil for a few bucks on Wish, then dragged Alex to take a quick selfie in front of the courthouse. In the photo, Alex’s face was stone-cold, and even though he seemed reluctant, he obediently let me rest my head on his shoulder for the shot. Later, when he saw that awkward photo hanging on the wall, he didn’t say anything. I thought then that Alex loved me. But his love was tinged with doubt and suspicion, and I just needed to try harder to make him believe. So later, no matter how much I suffered, a glance at that photo was enough to make me endure it all. I reached out, gently touching Alex’s face in the photo. “I knew you couldn’t let me go.” “Aria, let’s withdraw the divorce application.”

*Thud.* The moment Alex spoke, I dropped the photo into the box. I frowned, looking at him: “Why are you back so early?” “Didn’t the teacher say you took Caleb to the old mansion to see Grandpa?” My words caught Alex off guard. I looked at the empty space behind Alex and immediately realized something. I called the teacher, and after my repeated questioning, the teacher reluctantly revealed the truth: “It was… it was Mr. Thorne Sr. He took the child.” “He told us not to tell you, and said Leo would never live with you again.” No way! Leo was my entire world. I didn’t care about anything else now. I told Alex to drive me to the old mansion. When I arrived, Leo was crying pitifully. “I want my mom, I want to go home. Grandpa, she’s not my mom!” Grandpa Thorne pressed Leo into Sera’s arms: “This is your home.” “What’s so good about that mother of yours? She’s so common, so petty. She only married Alex for his money.” “Grandpa will get you a new mom. Sera is educated and gentle. She’ll not only be good to you, but she’ll also nurture you. You’ll have a bright future!” I rushed forward, pulled Leo out, and hugged him, whispering reassurances. Then I looked up, glaring fiercely at Grandpa Thorne: “Leo is my son! No one can take him from me!” “Grandpa Thorne, aren’t you going too far?!” Grandpa Thorne had always looked down on me, and now he felt it was beneath him to even speak to me. He simply looked at Alex, his face cold, and commanded: “Get rid of her. Give her some money and send her away. Consider it compensation for her youth and for having a child these past few years.” “If Sera hadn’t told me you two were fighting about divorce, I wouldn’t have known!” “Let me tell you, I’ve seen countless women like her. She’s ‘demanding a divorce’ now, but it’s just a tactic to use the child’s custody to extort money from you, endlessly!” Alex shot Sera a furious glare. Then he turned to his grandfather, trying to explain: “We’re just having a small disagreement, Grandpa. Aria isn’t like that.” Grandpa Thorne only grew more impassioned: “Not like that? Not like that, then why did you ‘test’ her for three years? You still doubted her, didn’t you?” “Alex, you don’t love her, you just pity her. If that’s the case, don’t let this woman monopolize the Mrs. Thorne title. Leo stays, and you give her some money for a divorce.” “I’m your father, I wouldn’t harm you. Listen to me!” The bodyguards on the side stepped forward, ready to snatch Leo from me. I looked at Alex, tears streaming down my face: “Alex, say something!” “These three years of marriage, am I a gold-digger or not? Don’t you know, deep down?” “I was sincere with you, and even more so with Leo!” Alex remained silent. He still doubted me. I stared at him in disbelief, my heart aching as if it had been ripped from my chest. “You… you still don’t believe me after all this time?” “These three years, have I spent a single penny of your money, Alex Thorne? Even when I gave birth to Leo, I couldn’t afford an epidural, so I endured the pain without it. Delivering packages, cleaning offices—I literally let my dignity be trampled on for those jobs. Yet I never once reached out to you for help.” “Alex Thorne, you truly have no heart.” I didn’t want to say anything more. I took Leo and turned to leave. The bodyguards weren’t thugs. The child was small; if anything happened, Grandpa Thorne would surely blame them. Just as I was about to walk out the front door. Sera’s startled cry suddenly came from behind me. “Oh no, Grandpa Thorne fell!” Although I didn’t like Grandpa Thorne, he was still an elder. I held Leo and accompanied him all the way to the hospital. I just didn’t expect that the mess he’d caused by falling would have to be repaid with my son’s blood.

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I was eighteen when Damon Blackwood stormed into my house and stabbed my father eighteen times. As the police led him away, he smiled into the camera. “Why would I regret it? “No beast will ever again hide behind the guise of family to torment her. “From now on, she’s the freest woman in the world, Sera Maxwell!” When he got out of prison, he found me broke, my resume rejected again. He extinguished his cigarette. He plunged himself into the city’s elite circles, clawing his way up until he became Mr. Blackwood. After we married, every single one of his passwords was my birthday. I scrolled through his photo album, seeing pictures of a strange woman. Over eighteen hundred photos, and not a single one of them was me. He seemed to remember then. Without a flicker of emotion, he deleted all eighteen hundred pictures and tossed his phone back to me. “It’s all in the past. Just pretend you didn’t see it.” I pushed the divorce papers across the table. “I told you, sign them.” He threw down his pen. “I told you, there’s no divorce between us. Only widowhood.” … Damon Blackwood didn’t sign. Between us, there was only widowhood, no divorce. We’d said those words when we got married. He didn’t even look at the divorce papers before storming out, slamming the door behind him. Not long after he left, an unknown number popped up on my phone. “You’re Sera Maxwell, right? “You must have seen them too. He’s been collecting my photos since I was still in school. “Damon loves me, not you. If you don’t step aside now, he’ll make you regret it later!” The girl’s voice held an innocence and boldness untouched by the world. Or perhaps, Damon Blackwood had just protected her too well. Before I could reply, she sent me over a dozen photos. The girl had a perfect waist-to-hip ratio, a delicate chain casually draped around her midriff. The large hand resting lightly on her waist sometimes forgot to remove *our* wedding ring. Only when her belly began to swell did the chain disappear. “Sera Maxwell, you couldn’t give Damon a child in three years of marriage, but he let me carry his baby. “Don’t you get it? What’s the point of clinging on? “I’m telling you, if you don’t back off, I’ll move into your house. We’ll see then whose side Damon takes!” When Damon Blackwood returned, he found the SnapChat history and a house full of shattered crystal and porcelain. He merely raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have anything to explain?” My ragged breathing mixed with the scent of his cigar. He let out a soft laugh, sighing as he blew a smoke ring. “She’s just a naive kid, Sera. Why bother stooping to her level?” His tone was so dismissive. As if the bloody battles he fought expanding his empire in those elite circles hadn’t fallen on us, but on that little girl and him. “The little girl certainly is foolish.” A miscarriage report landed on the table. He immediately sat up straight. I let my next words fall light as a feather. “So, I took the liberty of teaching her a lesson.” “Sera Maxwell!” His large hands gripped my shoulders, digging in so hard I thought they’d shatter. My back was pressed tightly against the wall, and I smiled, enjoying the furious red in his eyes. He’d only had red eyes twice in his life. Once was in senior year, when my father dragged me by my hair, half-naked, to the side of the road, threatening to drown me in the river. He stabbed my father eighteen times. The second time was now, because that girl had a miscarriage. He clutched my shoulders, accusing me of being “repugnant.” “How rare, to see Mr. Blackwood so distressed.” My smile held no trace of remorse. “You’re a woman… how could you do something like that to her?!” “You also said, between us, there’s no divorce, only widowhood.” I leaned closer to him. “Mr. Blackwood, if you can’t kill me, then I’ll just have to kill both of you!” Blood dripped onto the floor. Only then did he notice my hand, cut when I was smashing things. He slowly released my shoulders. “Good hit. I didn’t want that child anyway.” He took my hand, gently wiping away the blood. When the iodine was pressed onto the wound, he blew softly, just as he always did. He was used to treating my wounds this way. Because back then, when my father beat me black and blue, he could only find alcohol to disinfect my cuts. Even now, without needing alcohol, he was always careful not to hurt me. A bloody handprint appeared on his face. “Don’t. It’s dirty.” His face tilted slightly to the side. He didn’t argue whether I meant the blood was dirty or if he was. He simply called for Mr. Davies, the butler, and handed him the first-aid kit. The girl’s name was Chloe Thorne. When I tried to dig deeper, I found nothing. I knew Damon Blackwood was protecting her. If I hadn’t moved fast, I might not have even known her name. I confronted Damon Blackwood. “You like her so much you’re even blocking her information from me?” He sighed. “Sera, what’s the point of fixating on her?” The divorce papers landed in front of him again. “Sign them, and I’ll naturally let her go.” The divorce papers lasted less than two seconds in his hands. They were torn into shreds. He tossed them, and confetti of paper scattered across the floor. “I told you, between us, there’s no divorce, only widowhood.” I smiled. The next second, a wine bottle smashed against his head. Red liquid streamed down his face, impossible to tell if it was wine or blood. I grabbed a dagger from the table and lunged. He gripped my wrist tightly, resisting the downward force. “Damon Blackwood.” Less than an inch separated us. “Do you really think I wouldn’t dare?” Both our hands were trembling, but I wouldn’t back down. “Divorce, or one of us dies?” The standoff lasted only a few more seconds. With a soft laugh. He guided my hand towards himself. My hand, still clasped by his, plunged the dagger deep into his shoulder. Blood splattered onto my face. “I told you, I won’t let you die before me.” “Damon Blackwood!” Through my gritted teeth, he released my hand. “Go on, Sera.” I yanked the dagger out. He grunted, and my face was stained with blood. The metallic smell of blood dragged my thoughts back to that rainy night in senior year. I swayed, stumbled, and he caught me with lightning speed. “Don’t be afraid, it’s okay, I’m here.” His fingers gently stroked my cheek. I watched the beads of blood from his forehead drip onto my face. His eyes showed no concern for his own wound. Only worry for me. In the countless nights my father beat me raw, he’d held me just like this. He used his back to shield me from my father’s bottles, chairs, even kitchen knives. Amidst my father’s curses, he’d grin at me. “Don’t be afraid, it’s okay, I’m here.” We had embraced in blood, kissed in downpours. When love reaches its peak, betrayal becomes even more monstrous. I pushed him away. “Don’t touch me.” Stumbling, I left the blood-soaked room. We lived separate, peaceful lives for a while. The girl was still well-protected by him; I couldn’t find a single piece of information about her. But the girl was young, after all. She couldn’t hold back and came to find me herself. “Have you been looking for Damon recently? I’ll just tell you directly, he’s with me.” She was dressed in haute couture, full of smug triumph. “Do you think knocking off my baby solved everything?” She leaned in, her smile brimming with glee. “As long as his love is with me, no matter how many babies you make me lose, he’ll only love me more. “He’s been working even harder recently, actually. I should really thank you for the assist, sis.” Her high-slit top showcased her flawless neck and partially exposed cleavage. Countless hickeys loudly declared— how Damon Blackwood had loved this girl without reservation, deeply and passionately. She clutched her flat stomach, pride radiating from her. “Too bad, I’m pregnant again.” I calmly took a sip of my coffee. She sat directly on my freshly ordered couch, propping her chin in her hands. “I heard you haven’t had any children in three years of marriage, sis. “And you finally got pregnant with one.” She seemed to think of something hilarious. “Ha! And you couldn’t even keep it! “Sometimes, you really can’t blame the man.” The coffee cup met the tabletop with a sharp clink. Accompanied by her scream. My bodyguards silently watched Chloe Thorne on the floor, clutching her belly, blood seeping from below. “Sera Maxwell! May you rot in hell!” Amidst her heartbreaking screams, the bodyguards dragged her out the door. “Sera Maxwell! Aren’t you afraid Damon will get back at you for this?!” My fingers tapped lightly on the marble table. I spoke. “You should know, the position of Mrs. Blackwood isn’t something you get just by having a man’s love.” That night, Damon Blackwood came home. With dozens of men. They filled an entire floor. He only ever went to such lengths when facing a truly formidable opponent. This was the first time he’d been so openly hostile towards me. We sat at opposite ends of the negotiation table, dozens of men standing behind each of us. “Twice now.” His distinct knuckles tapped lightly on the marble tabletop. “Sera, you should apologize to her.” “An idiot who shows up on my doorstep and dares to barge in should take responsibility for her own recklessness.” Half of Damon Blackwood’s face was cloaked in shadow, his expression unreadable. “Does Mr. Blackwood truly think his wife is so docile she’ll do nothing when a mistress shows up?” The flicker of a lighter in the dark illuminated the lady’s cigarette between my lips. “Mr. Blackwood, you should know, in all these years clawing our way through the elite circles, I bled alongside you. “To pit a pampered pet like that against me—are you insane, or is she?” The divorce papers were once again placed before him. I blew out a smoke ring. “This is your last chance.” The moonlight on the marble table couldn’t reflect either of our expressions. We stared at each other in the darkness. “From childhood, you killed my beast of a father for me, you stormed into the lions’ den for me. “I lost a child for you, bled myself dry for you. “Mr. Blackwood, let’s part ways, owing each other nothing. “This is the best outcome for us.” “The best outcome…” Damon Blackwood’s soft laugh echoed in the darkness. He picked up the divorce papers. Using the lighter he used to light his cigar, the divorce papers turned to ash. “From now on, she won’t appear before you.” The ash scattered with the wind. He stood up, leading dozens of men, and left the estate in a grand procession. A sharp pain twisted in my lower abdomen. I hunched over, clutching my stomach. My bodyguards immediately rushed forward to support me. “Ms. Maxwell!” “It’s fine…”

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During crunch time for grad school applications, a spot in the library was more valuable than gold. That day, I woke up at 5 AM just to claim one. I went to the restroom for five minutes, and when I came back, all my books and notes were dumped on the floor. A girl was comfortably sitting in my spot, scrolling on her phone. I swallowed my anger. “Excuse me, someone’s sitting here.” She didn’t even look up. “Where? I don’t see anyone.” “You’re the worst kind of person, just leaving a few books to hog a spot all day. I’m here to put an end to that kind of entitlement.” I pointed at my scattered books. “I was in the restroom for five minutes. What gives you the right to steal my spot and throw my stuff?” “Five minutes? For all I know, you were off hooking up in the bathroom!” “Watch your mouth! Hooking up in the bathroom? Sounds like you do that often, doesn’t it?” As if I’d hit a nerve, she grabbed the coffee cup from the desk and splashed it straight into my face. “Here’s a little something to cool you down. Don’t go around barking like a mad dog. This spot is mine now.” The scalding coffee streamed down my face, burning painfully.

I glared at her, feeling my skin sear. The library was dead silent. Everyone was stunned by the sudden scene. Brittany, the girl who had just assaulted me, carelessly tossed the coffee cup. It hit the floor with a loud clatter. She crossed her arms, chin held high, her eyes full of scorn and provocation. “What are you looking at? Got a problem?” “What gives you the right to throw coffee on me?” My voice trembled with rage. Brittany scoffed, a sharp, piercing sound. “Because you’re just hogging a spot you’re not even using, and it’s messing with my grad school prep!” “I’m telling you again, I was only gone for the bathroom!” “Who’d believe that?” She rolled her eyes. “I can’t stand people like you. You don’t put in the effort, and you stop others from doing so.” I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms. A guy with glasses, Liam, couldn’t stand it anymore. He whispered, “Hey, that’s really out of line. She was here first.” Brittany immediately turned her venom on him. “Who asked you, huh? Trying to play hero? Take a good look in the mirror, buddy! You’re just another stressed-out grad student wannabe, so mind your own business!” Liam’s face flushed crimson. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t get a single word out. Finally, he just bowed his head, pretending to read. Seeing his reaction, Brittany became even more emboldened. She turned back, her gaze locking onto me. “Hear that? That’s called knowing when to back down. I’m telling you, I want this spot, so it’s mine. Now get lost, you’re bothering me.” I stared at her incredibly arrogant face, a wave of humiliated hatred surging from deep within me. I didn’t move. I just watched her with icy cold eyes. “What if I don’t leave?” Brittany froze for a second, apparently surprised I dared to talk back. Her eyes hardened. She grabbed my textbook, the one she’d thrown on the floor, and began tearing it page by page into tiny pieces. The sound of paper ripping was shockingly loud in the quiet library. “Not leaving? This is what you get!” She showered me with the scraps of paper, like a malicious rain. “Are you going to leave, or what?” Tears welled up in my eyes, but I forced them back. I couldn’t cry. Crying meant giving up. Just then, Ms. Albright, the librarian, rushed over, drawn by the commotion. “What’s going on? Why are you two making so much noise in the library?”

Seeing Ms. Albright, I felt a surge of hope, like grasping a lifeline. But Brittany beat me to it. Her face instantly crumpled into a mask of tearful injustice, her voice catching as she appeared utterly helpless. “Teacher, she’s bullying me!” She pointed at me, sobbing. “I just wanted to study quietly for my grad school applications. I saw this spot was empty, so I sat down.” “Who knew she’d start screaming at me, saying I stole her spot, and calling me names…” As she spoke, tears streamed down her face like a broken faucet. “…She even said people like me would never get into grad school and should just go back to the sticks and farm. I got upset and argued back, and then she just…” She cried, secretly glancing at me from the corner of her eye, a triumphant smirk hidden beneath her tears. Ms. Albright, a stern-looking woman in her fifties with bifocals, frowned as she listened to Brittany’s tearful account. Then she turned to me, her eyes filled with disapproval. “Look, I understand everyone’s under a lot of stress with grad school applications. But you can’t be so aggressive over a study spot.” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Teacher, *she* stole my spot first, she threw my books on the floor, she poured coffee on me, and she ripped my book!” I pointed at the mess on the floor and the coffee stains on my face, trying to prove I was telling the truth. Ms. Albright pushed up her glasses, her tone laced with impatience. “It’s just a spot, what’s the big deal? Why couldn’t you just let her have it? You’re a university student, for crying out loud. Where’s your composure?” She then turned to Brittany, her voice instantly softening. “Now, now, sweetie, don’t cry. Just sit down and study. Don’t let a small thing like this ruin your mood. Grad school is important.” Brittany immediately stopped crying, flashing me a victorious smile, then calmly sat down and opened her study materials. I stood there, frozen, feeling like a complete fool. My chest felt crushed by a giant boulder, making it hard to breathe. When did the world become so twisted, where the bad guy cries foul first and gets support? “Teacher, there are security cameras here! You can check the footage!” I said, clutching at a last shred of hope. Ms. Albright waved her hand, a ‘don’t bother me’ expression on her face. “Check what footage? It’s not worth the hassle for such a petty squabble.” “Alright, alright, everyone back to what you were doing. Don’t disturb other students.” With that, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone, subjected to the strange stares of those around me. Some held sympathy, some contempt, but most were just curious onlookers. I looked at Brittany’s smug face, at my ripped-up book on the floor, at the coffee stains drying on my skin. A chill ran from my feet straight to the top of my head. Slowly, I knelt down, picking up the torn pieces one by one. Each fragment felt like a knife twisting in my heart. Brittany’s friend, Courtney, another grad school applicant, walked past me with a water bottle. She feigned an “oops,” tilting the bottle, and half its contents spilled all over the wet paper I’d just gathered. “Oh, my bad, butterfingers,” she said, though a smirk played on her lips. Brittany laughed too. “Well, now. You won’t be able to piece *that* back together.” I looked up, my eyes bloodshot, glaring intensely at them. The two girls flinched under my stare, their smiles fading, and they quickly walked away. I stopped picking up the pieces. Instead, I slowly stood up and walked to Brittany’s desk. “I’m going to say this one last time. Get out of my spot.” My voice was quiet, but it was colder than ice. Brittany was momentarily taken aback by my intensity, but quickly regained her arrogant composure. “Who are you trying to scare? I’m not moving. What are you going to…” She didn’t get to finish her sentence. I grabbed the thick grad school English vocabulary book from her desk and slammed it straight into her face.

“Ah!” Brittany shrieked. The corner of the book hit her forehead squarely, instantly leaving a large red mark. Everyone in the library stood up in shock. “You hit me?” Brittany clutched her forehead, her face a mask of disbelief. Her friend, Courtney, reacted too, screaming as she lunged at me: “You psycho! How dare you hit Brittany? I’ll tear you apart!” I sidestepped, and she missed, crashing into a bookshelf. Books went “thud, clatter” everywhere. The scene descended into chaos. Ms. Albright and several campus security officers rushed over, forcibly pulling us apart. “Everyone, stop right there! What on earth is going on?! This is a library, not your personal arena!” We were taken to the university’s campus security office. Brittany sat in a chair, crying theatrically, as if she had suffered the greatest injustice. “Officers, look what she did to me!” “My head is throbbing, I need to go to the hospital. I’m definitely concussed!” She pointed at the red mark on her forehead, wailing to Officer Miller. “She’s just jealous! Jealous of my youth, jealous that I’m a better student! She can’t get into grad school herself, so she wants to ruin everyone else! People like her should be expelled!” Courtney chimed in, adding fuel to the fire: “Exactly! We all saw it, she threw the first punch! Brittany just wanted her to stop hogging the spot, and she went absolutely crazy!” Officer Miller, a grizzled, near-retirement security officer, listened to their twisted accusations, his brow furrowed into a deep ‘V’. He turned to me, his tone stern. “Alright, what really happened, young lady? Did you hit her first?” I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “She stole my spot first, splashed coffee on me, and ripped my book.” “I asked her to leave, she refused, so I…” “I did not!” Brittany instantly cut me off, her voice an octave higher. “You’re lying! The coffee was an accident! You ripped your own book and are trying to blame me!” “You’re a total liar and a psycho!” Officer Miller rubbed his temples, annoyed by the bickering, and rapped his knuckles on the desk. “Alright, that’s enough, both of you!” He looked at me, speaking in a long-suffering tone. “Look, Chloe, no matter the reason, hitting someone is wrong.” “You’re a bright student, aren’t you? Why be so impulsive?” A cold dread settled in my heart. It was the same old story. This kind of spineless mediation, where they just sweep things under the rug and side with the troublemaker, without bothering to find out what really happened. “Officer, there are cameras in the library,” I repeated, clinging to my last hope. Officer Miller sighed. “I already checked. Your spot is a blind spot, nothing was caught.” My heart sank. How could that be such a coincidence? First the cameras in my neighborhood, now even the library cameras? Brittany’s eyes flickered with a hint of triumph when she heard that. She cried even harder. “Officer, my head really hurts, I need to go to the hospital…” “If this injury affects my grad school applications, she has to take full responsibility!” Officer Miller was clearly fed up with her tears. He waved his hand. “Alright, go to the campus clinic for now.” “As for you, Chloe, what’s your name and department? You’ll need to come with us to file a report. The university will handle this seriously.” I gave him my name and department: Chloe, PhD candidate, Life Sciences Department. When I said “PhD candidate,” Brittany and Courtney’s expressions noticeably stiffened. Officer Miller also paused, pushing up his glasses and looking at me again. “You’re… a PhD student?” “Yes.” His attitude seemed to shift subtly, but ultimately he maintained his official tone. “Still, hitting someone requires disciplinary action. Please come with us.” I was led to another office to give a detailed account of what happened. Brittany, meanwhile, was dramatically “fainting” her way to the campus clinic, supported by Courtney.

By the time I finished giving my statement, it was already dark. I dragged my exhausted body back to the lab. Professor Thompson, my advisor, was still waiting for me. Seeing my haggard face and the uncleaned coffee stains, he frowned. “Chloe, what happened?” I recounted everything that had happened at the library, from start to finish. Professor Thompson’s face darkened as he listened. He paced silently in his office. The lab was eerily quiet, save for the low hum of the instruments. After a long while, he stopped and looked at me. “The samples are ruined?” I nodded, my voice hoarse. “They were soaked. Probably gone.” Those were experimental samples I’d been preparing for three weeks, for a critical national research project. Now, everything would have to start from scratch. Professor Thompson sighed heavily and patted my shoulder. “At least you’re okay. Samples can be remade, we’ll make up the time. But this, this cannot stand.” I looked at my advisor’s determined gaze, my nose stung, and I almost cried again. “Professor, campus security said that spot was a blind spot for the cameras.” “Blind spot?” Professor Thompson scoffed. “That grad study area has the best spots in the entire library, top-notch views and light. The university wouldn’t install cameras there? They’re trying to fool us.” My heart skipped a beat. “Professor, are you saying…?” “Don’t worry about it, I’ll handle this.” Professor Thompson picked up his phone. “You go home, get some rest, and clear your head. Remember, we researchers don’t look for trouble, but we never back down from it.” The next day, I received a call from Mr. Harrison, my academic counselor, asking me to come to the department office. In the office, besides Mr. Harrison and me, were Brittany and her counselor, Ms. Hayes. Brittany had a huge bandage on her forehead, and her face was pale. When she saw me, she immediately cowered behind Ms. Hayes, like a frightened deer. Ms. Hayes, a shrewd-looking young woman, instantly shielded her, glaring at me. “Chloe, is it? Is this how you act as an older student? Causing a student in my department to suffer a mild concussion over a study spot? Do you have any sense of responsibility?” I looked at her calmly and asked, “Excuse me, has the concussion diagnosis report been issued yet?” The woman choked for a moment, then retorted forcefully, “The doctor said she needs to stay for observation! This is the consequence of your violent behavior!” My counselor, Mr. Harrison, a mild-mannered middle-aged man, quickly tried to smooth things over. “Ms. Hayes, please don’t get agitated. Chloe didn’t do it on purpose, there must be a misunderstanding here.” “Misunderstanding? Is the injury on my student’s head a misunderstanding?” Ms. Hayes pressed on, “Our student, Brittany, is an excellent student, a top candidate for grad school this year.” “Now, after this incident, she’s suffered immense emotional trauma, and her study progress will be affected. Who will bear this responsibility?” She turned to me, delivering an ultimatum. “This matter is non-negotiable!” “Either you publicly apologize to Brittany and compensate her for all medical expenses, nutritional costs, and emotional distress, totaling twenty thousand dollars.” “Or, we will report this to the university and you’ll receive a major disciplinary action! You choose!” I almost laughed from sheer indignation. What a masterful act of twisting facts! Before I could speak, Mr. Harrison frowned. “Ms. Hayes, twenty thousand dollars? Isn’t that a bit…” “Too much? I don’t think so at all!” Ms. Hayes cut him off. “So what if she’s a PhD student? Does that give PhD students the right to bully our undergraduates?” “I’m telling you, if this isn’t resolved today, we’re not dropping it!” Brittany, hiding behind her counselor, started to sob on cue, her shoulders shaking, looking utterly pitiful. Watching this teacher and student duo perform their coordinated act, the anger inside me flared up again. Just then, the office door was pushed open. My advisor, Professor Thompson, walked in. Behind him were Officer Miller from campus security and a middle-aged man I didn’t recognize. Professor Thompson’s face was grim. He didn’t even glance at the other two, walking straight to me. “Chloe, come on. We have something to see.” He took my arm and started to lead me out. As we passed Ms. Hayes, he coldly dropped a line. “Ms. Hayes, isn’t it? I hope you’ll still be able to sound so self-righteous in a moment.” We all went to the campus security’s monitoring room. The middle-aged man, who turned out to be Mr. Jones, the Director of Information Center, skillfully operated the computer, bringing up a screen. It was footage of that exact corner of the library from yesterday. The video showed me leaving my spot. A few minutes later, Brittany walked over, unhesitatingly sweeping my books and materials onto the floor, then casually taking my seat. Then, I returned, and we began to argue. The footage clearly recorded how she provoked me with her arrogant tone, how she picked up the coffee and splashed it onto my face, how she ripped my textbook page by page… Every detail was crystal clear, undeniable. Officer Miller stood to the side, cold sweat beading on his forehead, his face paler than paper. “P-Professor Thompson, this… how did this…” Professor Thompson snorted. “How did we get this angle of the camera, is that it?” The truth was, the camera in that area did exist, but Officer Miller had deliberately claimed it was a “blind spot” and deleted the recording to avoid trouble. Professor Thompson had recovered the video through Mr. Jones, the Director of Information Center, from a server backup or with higher access privileges. Officer Miller’s legs buckled, and he nearly fell. Ms. Hayes and Brittany were also called into the monitoring room. When the full video played on the large screen, Brittany’s face drained of all color, turning ashen.

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I was reborn at fourteen. My father, his voice soft, asked me, “Do you want to stay here with your mother, or go abroad, and I’ll give you two hundred million dollars?” In my past life, I cried, “I want my mom.” Then I watched him, clear as day, keep an executive as his mistress, hire a nanny, and have three illegitimate children, all to spite my mother. She spent half her life in misery, couldn’t even get a fair divorce, and walked away with nothing. As for me, I was manipulated, ridiculed, utterly destitute, and died alone in a foreign country. My friends had to pool money just to buy my flight ticket home. This time, I smiled and signed the papers. “Two hundred million dollars, I’m taking it.” It wasn’t that I was heartless. It was that I finally saw the truth: in this family, no one genuinely cared about my mother or me. I refused to be that weak, pathetic girl again. This life, I’d earn the money, I’d protect my life, and I’d orchestrate the whole game myself. My mother? When I’ve won everything, when she no longer needs to beg anyone, I’ll personally bring her home.

I was reborn at fourteen. My father, Richard Vance, had just returned from a board meeting, impeccably dressed in a sharp suit, his tie perfectly knotted. He sat on the study sofa in the old Vance family estate, a legal agreement resting on the table beside him. I stood before him, my school uniform wrinkled, my hair a mess. I’d just come back from a late study session, looking like a naive teenager oblivious to the family drama unfolding. “Eleanor,” he said, calling my name gently. “Your mother has been a little emotional lately. You can choose to stay here and be with her, or you can go abroad to the school you like. After graduation, you can return, and a portion of the company’s shares can be given to you to manage ahead of time.” He spoke sincerely and softly, like an understanding father. “I’ve already prepared the living expenses for your time abroad. Two hundred million dollars, transferred directly to your personal account, for your full discretion.” In my past life, when I stood in this exact spot, I was stunned. Two hundred million dollars. Such a massive sum. It was a massive sum, yes, but now I knew, it was just a way to discreetly transfer assets. Mom sat on the living room sofa, saying nothing, her eyes red and raw. I cried as I tore the agreement into tiny shreds, throwing them at my father’s feet, my eyes blazing as I yelled, “I want my mom!” I truly believed I had won then. Looking back now, I was so incredibly foolish. That year, I naively chose to stay with my mother. And what happened? Less than six months later, my father still sent me abroad, packing me off to his executive mistress, Seraphina Hayes’s house in America. He claimed it was to broaden my horizons and groom me as a future successor. I became the only person in that grand villa without a true ally, eventually even the nannies started ordering me around. Seraphina’s boy-girl twins, seemingly harmless, were actually my father’s illegitimate children, utterly spoiled and entitled. They eventually tried to snatch the family inheritance, and to think I once considered them my own siblings. And me? In the end, no one even remembered that I was the eldest daughter of the Vance family. My mother remained here, alone in the old estate, desperately trying to contact schools, learn English, hire lawyers, all to bring me back. She thought she was the legitimate wife, that she still had a right to speak up. Until one day, she received a lawyer’s letter. The house deed was being reclaimed. She didn’t move out. She sat in the empty living room, not even bothering to boil water, eating cold food, bite by bite, saying, “I’ll wait for Eleanor to come home.” I heard the soft clink of pill bottles in her room over the phone, and that’s when I knew she was so depressed she was afraid to sleep. I graduated at nineteen, and my first job was scrubbing floors in a diner in Melbourne. My second was cleaning kennels for a wealthy family. The day my mother was admitted to the hospital, I was handing out flyers in a parking garage. The doctor called me from overseas, “She attempted to jump from the building three times tonight, but we don’t have your father’s authorization for forced treatment.” I stood downstairs from the hospital, my phone pressed to my ear, unable to utter a single word. The last time I saw her was five minutes before her cremation. She couldn’t hear me call her name anymore. It was then I finally understood. She didn’t lose to Richard Vance; she lost because of me. The daughter she spent her entire life protecting simply wasn’t strong enough. This life, the agreement was laid before me again. I didn’t cry. I simply picked up the pen and, with a decisive flourish, signed my name, ‘Eleanor Vance’. My father raised an eyebrow, as if truly looking at me for the first time. “Are you sure about this?” “Completely sure.” I looked at him, my voice calm. I paused, then added, “As your *only* child, I really should go out and gain some experience.” I let the word ‘only’ hang in the air, a subtle challenge. He froze for two seconds, then chuckled softly. “You truly are my daughter, Eleanor. Ambitious.” I smiled too. But my smile was far more knowing than his. He thought I had finally come to my senses, willing to be obedient. But I knew in my heart that sending me away was merely a prelude to him fostering his illegitimate children. By getting rid of me, he could easily divorce Elara and officially legitimize his executive mistress. My mother, tragically, would never understand. She was still living in a dream, believing he would eventually come back to her. She didn’t know that once I signed this agreement, she and I were both completely kicked out of the Vance family game. That night, I returned to my room. The door closed, and the moon outside was cold and distant. I didn’t cry. I just opened my laptop and logged into my exclusive bank account. Two hundred million dollars. Deposited. I stared at the balance for a minute, then pulled open a drawer and took out a notebook. On the first page, I wrote: * Richard Vance’s illegitimate children: Dominic Hayes, Briar Hayes, born in New York. * Richard Vance’s offshore trust accounts: To be investigated. * Elara Vance’s dowry company shares flow: To be investigated. * Goal: Within four years, reclaim everything that belongs to my mother and me. I clicked on a picture of my mom. Her youthful smiling face was still vivid in my mind, wearing a ten-year-old trench coat, smiling so innocently. She later gave that trench coat to a nanny, saying the woman’s family wasn’t well-off. Later, I saw it in the trash, streaked with cake crumbs and smeared with dirty footprints. This life, I wouldn’t believe anything anymore. It wasn’t that I was heartless; it was that I finally saw the truth—in this family, no one genuinely cared about my mother or me. From today on, I, Eleanor Vance, will use these two hundred million dollars to completely dismantle the Vance empire, piece by agonizing piece.

The night I signed the papers, it was very dark, but the living room light remained on. As I went upstairs, I looked back from the landing and saw my mother still sitting there. Her eyes were red and swollen, like she’d been crying for hours, and she clutched the pencil case I used as a child. On it were the stickers I’d used to spell out my name: Eleanor Vance. She looked as though she wanted to say something, then closed her mouth, lowering her head, as if in a daze, or perhaps trying to convince herself of something. I didn’t say a word, turning and going back to my room. The door closed, and silence instantly enveloped me. But my heartbeat roared in my ears. I lay on my bed, eyes closed, counting to five hundred. The moon outside remained still, and she hadn’t slept either. I heard rustling from her room, the soft clink of pill bottles, the sound of a glass hitting the floor, and a whisper so faint I could barely make it out: “She’s changed…” She, of course, had no idea that what changed in me was an entire lifetime of regret and tears. At 2 AM, I crept downstairs. She was still on the sofa, propped against a cushion, eyes wide open, like a doll whose batteries had run out. I walked over and gently draped a thin blanket over her. She seemed startled, lifting her head slightly. “You’re still awake?” Her voice was a raw whisper, barely audible. “Writing applications,” I paused, telling a small lie. She nodded. I looked at her, and she looked back at me, as if searching my face for a hint of softening, a flicker of hesitation. But there was none. The hope in her eyes slowly extinguished, like the final drizzle of a fading summer. “Are you angry with me?” she asked, her voice strained. “No,” I said. She gave a bitter laugh. “Your father didn’t just suddenly offer you two hundred million. He doesn’t want to send you abroad; he wants to send you away.” “I know.” She looked up at me, her eyes frighteningly bright. “Then why did you sign it?” I didn’t answer. Because I couldn’t explain it to her—explain that I’d already lived through how she lost, explain that if I didn’t leave now, it would be too late for everything. She clutched a copy of the agreement, and tears splattered onto the paper, pinning me to the spot. “It’s not that I didn’t try,” she murmured. “I truly fought with all my might, but he never intended to let me win.” In that moment, I truly wanted to hug her, to tell her that this time, I would protect her. But I didn’t move. I just watched her slowly curl back onto the sofa, wiping away tears and biting her lip, living like a child thrown out of their home. My chest tightened. But I couldn’t afford to be soft. I knew, in my past life, it was a hug on this very night that pulled me back into an emotional quicksand. I let her emotions guide me, and the result was her eventually jumping from the building, while I had to work odd jobs to save up for a flight ticket home just to attend her funeral. This time, I couldn’t give in. I turned and went back to my room. At 4:30 AM, she finally fell asleep. But I wasn’t sleepy at all. I opened my email and began preparing my documents for going abroad: transfer applications, visa materials, transfer plans before account freezing, and the Plan B list my mother never knew about: * List of executives for Vance Group’s subsidiary companies; * Records of property transfers; * Contract loopholes; * Offshore asset management trust windows; * And – the future heir training program list, first entry: Dominic Hayes, 3, slated for a prestigious New York prep school. I gently bit the end of my pen, circling “Dominic” three times. Dominic. How utterly pathetic. To think that years from now, the renowned Vance Group, publicly boasting only one child, cherished by its father, would secretly be grooming *him*. It made me want to vomit. In my past life, I watched him join the group, sign contracts, lead projects, and be praised by the media as a young prodigy, all while the public ignored the fact that he was illegitimate. This life, he’d have to deal with me first. At 7 AM, my mom woke up, her eyes puffy, her face a sallow yellow. I finished getting ready to leave, but she stood by the door, blocking me. “Eleanor,” she called, her voice trembling slightly, “It’s not too late to change your mind.” I stopped and turned back. “Not this time,” I said. “I’m going out to win, and then I’ll bring you back.” She looked at me for a long time without speaking. Finally, she nodded, not a single tear falling from her eyes. She simply said, “Then don’t lose.” I smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” I closed the door. The moment I stepped out of the Vance family home, the sun was bright, the sky was blue, and the wind was a little cold.

The day I left the country, Richard Vance himself drove me to the airport. My mother was in the car too, sitting in the passenger seat, silent. She’d spent three hours doing her makeup; her lipstick was bright red, her powder too heavy, and her face looked ashen, as if she’d lost blood. She stared out the window the entire time, watching the road she’d traveled countless times, as if sealing herself off into her memories. Richard wore a slightly worn, navy blue suit, his smile perfectly polite. To outsiders, he looked like the ideal husband and father. He gripped the steering wheel, talking to me about the school while turning to tell my mother, “I’ve arranged Eleanor’s accommodation. Seraphina will take care of her. The child will be much more settled at her place.” My mother didn’t respond, only clutching the strap of her handbag, her knuckles white. She, of course, knew exactly who Seraphina was. The youngest female executive at the company, thirty-five years old, with two MBA degrees, beautiful, sweet-talking, and most importantly – she had given birth to Richard’s boy-girl twins three years prior. The Vance Group’s HR even had a nickname for her: the Corporate Crown Princess. My mother wasn’t oblivious; she just pretended not to know. Just like now, she was wearing her most expensive champagne-gold dress, supposedly the first valuable item my father bought her after he made his fortune. Mom sat bolt upright in the passenger seat. She would see me off, and she would do it like a true Mrs. Vance. Even if, after I left, she would become a woman no one remembered. At the airport, my father’s driver was already waiting at the VIP channel, pulling my luggage. My mother held my hand, softly asking, “Did you bring your passport? Do you have any cold medicine? Don’t forget that cashmere scarf…” I nodded, watching her eyes well up. She tried hard to smile but couldn’t keep it up. Her voice was tight, “If it’s cold over there, FaceTime me, and I’ll send you clothes…” My eyes felt a little warm, but I held back my tears. This wasn’t just saying goodbye; it was a parting. My father stepped forward, gently putting his arm around her shoulder, and smiled at me. “Your mother worries so much; she hasn’t slept well these past few nights.” Mom’s eyes widened, clearly disoriented by the phrase “your mother.” Her eyes actually welled up, as if she was being loved again. I looked at her, both angry and heartbroken. This was her. Even knowing she had been betrayed so completely, she still desperately tried to snatch a tiny bit of security from any scraps of false affection. Perhaps it was because her entire youth had been spent by his side. I stood up. Before I entered the boarding gate, Mom suddenly hugged me. “Eleanor…” She buried her face in my shoulder, her voice trembling uncontrollably. “If it’s too hard over there, just come home. Mom will always be here.” I patted her back. “Mom, just wait for me.” “Wait for what?” “Wait for me to come back and take back everything that belongs to you.” I whispered in her ear. She paused, her eyes momentarily blank, then nodded. “Okay… Mom will wait for you.” When I looked back, I saw my father still holding her, looking like an affectionate old couple, reluctantly sending their daughter abroad. Only I knew that in his office drawer, he had a photo of Seraphina and the two children at Disney, smiling more genuinely than in any family photo he’d taken with us. Only I knew that this wouldn’t stop him from giving all his family fortune to his illegitimate children decades later. I entered the VIP lounge. Seraphina sat on a sofa, waiting for me. She wore a camel trench coat, her makeup impeccable, her lipstick a cool rose-red. Her Chanel earrings gleamed, clearly a new design. My dad must have given her quite a lot of money. She stood up, extending her hand with a welcoming smile. “Eleanor, it’s so good to see you again. Your father has told me so much about you.” I didn’t shake her hand, only nodded. “Thank you for going through all this trouble.” She didn’t seem to mind, turning her hand to pick up her handbag. “No trouble at all. From now on, you can think of me as family here in America. Just tell me if you need anything.” I smiled. She thought I didn’t know who she was. In my past life, I lived in her house for four years. I knew which drawer held the children’s vaccination records, which passport was hidden in the safe, how many nannies she’d replaced, and at what time of night she liked to call Richard Vance. I knew everything. She thought I didn’t remember anything. She didn’t know I was back to settle scores. Seraphina took me onto a private jet. The seats were spacious, the flight attendants bowed as they offered water; everything felt like a fairy tale. I sat down and didn’t say a word. I just inserted the new SIM card into my phone, activated location services, internet, recording permissions, and bound my financial accounts to SMS verification. I knew that by leaving, I was completely saying goodbye to my identity as the eldest daughter of the Vance family. They could raise their illegitimate children in peace. But soon, they would realize I wasn’t a daughter sent away. I was a creditor returning to collect.

I landed at 5 AM. The Los Angeles sky hadn’t yet brightened; outside the cabin, it was a quiet, pale blue. I pulled my suitcase, following behind Seraphina. Her smile was gentle, her stride confident, like the perfectly composed caretaker. “Eleanor, you didn’t get much rest last night, did you? We’ll grab breakfast first. Do you prefer American or international cuisine?” She asked affectionately, as if she truly thought of me as her own daughter. I offered a faint smile. “Either is fine, thank you, Aunt Seraphina.” Her eyes flickered, a hint of surprise that I called her ‘Aunt Seraphina’. She didn’t know that ‘Aunt’ was a title I’d forced myself to say for three years in my past life, and it was the first chip I’d play in this life to collect my interest. The car was her own, a black Porsche Cayenne, clean, luxurious. The trunk was neatly organized, already stocked with a toiletries bag, school uniform-style information packets, and a comprehensive lifestyle guide. I got in the car, and as the window rolled up, everything fell silent. Seraphina talked the entire way, asking what color room I liked, if I wanted a tutor, if I was interested in learning horse riding, tennis, or golf. Her words were beautiful, every sentence seemingly for my benefit, but I didn’t believe a single word. She claimed I’d be like her own daughter in her home, but her *real* children were sleeping in the kids’ rooms of her suburban villa, their custom English names on the doors, their rooms filled with thousands of dollars’ worth of picture books and toys. They were boy-girl twins, born in America by Seraphina the year Richard Vance turned forty-two. She did it quietly. They were only three now, too young to bother me, too young to appear on social media, and certainly too young for Elara Vance to ever know about them. Seraphina was a clever woman. She knew Richard Vance wasn’t divorced yet, and she knew Elara Vance still held voting rights on the board. So, she hid everything well—her children, her ambition, and her grand plan for the entire Vance Group to fall into her son’s hands. I was merely a pawn in her elaborate cover-up. She believed I was good in school, soft-spoken, easy to control, and obedient and sensible. Sending me abroad was just Richard Vance finally giving in to her constant nagging. “Your father says you’re very intelligent, not like some children who just bury their heads in books,” she said, studying me with a smile. “I’ll tell you honestly, he thinks highly of you.” I smiled back. “Really? I had no idea.” She paused, then softened her voice. “Don’t overthink it. Your father just isn’t good at expressing himself. Men, you know, their minds are on their careers. You focus on your studies now, and when he sorts things out, you’ll get everything that’s coming to you.” “After all, you’re his only daughter.” I nodded. “Thank you, Aunt Seraphina. I’ll listen to you more from now on.” Her brows relaxed; she seemed to let her guard down completely. “Good girl.” I lowered my gaze, my fingernails digging into my palm. I was just as ‘good’ in my past life, living in her house for four years, as invisible as a shadow. She’d celebrate my birthday every year, inviting a few children of my father’s friends for dinner. Her own daughter was always among them. The little girl looked like Richard Vance. At three, she could already call me ‘Big Sister,’ but she never truly accepted me as one. She just watched the adults laugh at how redundant I was. And my mother, at that time, was already living in a psychiatric ward, repeating my name over and over. This life, I wouldn’t be a ‘good girl’ anymore. But on the surface, I’d pretend to be even better than anyone else. Seraphina’s house was decorated like a showroom, even the dinnerware was a limited edition. She arranged for me to stay in the guest room; outside the window was a pool, and on the French doors, a “Welcome Eleanor” sign, like a meticulously planned grand gesture. I came out after showering and saw that she had already set out my enrollment materials for tomorrow, even thoughtfully printing out the school’s introduction and course schedule. “Get some rest, adjust to the time difference. I’ll drive you to school tomorrow; someone should be with you on your first day,” she said softly. I nodded. “Thank you, Aunt Seraphina.” She smiled, satisfied. At 11 PM, the lights in her room went out. But I sat at the guest room desk, opening the small laptop I’d brought with me, and began synchronizing my memories from my past life with my current plans. I stared at the screen for a long time, until the moon rose outside the window, and the night deepened like still water. This life, I wasn’t here to live under someone else’s roof. I was here to overturn their entire world.

Seraphina knocked on my door promptly at 6:30 AM the next day. I was already awake. “Eleanor, time to wake up. Breakfast is downstairs.” Her voice was gentle, like coaxing a small animal. I sat up in bed and casually opened the door. “Morning, Aunt Seraphina.” She paused, probably not expecting me to be so quick to adapt. “Such a good girl,” she chuckled. “Come down for breakfast. I’ll drive you to school in a bit.” On the table were milk, sandwiches, cereal, and an exquisitely sliced fruit salad. As I sat down, a small shadow darted out from the living room. “Mommy, I want a hug.” The little girl threw herself into Seraphina’s arms, her words saccharine sweet. I looked over. She was wearing pink Daisy Duck pajamas, her hair soft, her eyes a little timid, and there was a bit of milk on the corner of her mouth. It was then I noticed her eyebrows and eyes were quite similar to my father’s. She looked up and saw me, instantly quieting, her eyes darting over me as she softly asked, “Who is she?” Seraphina stroked her hair. “She’s your big sister.” “Big sister?” The little girl tilted her head, then looked at me again. “Why don’t you look like me?” I lowered my gaze and smiled, my voice gentle. “Because my mommy and daddy are different from yours.” She bit her straw, nodding as if she understood, but only I noticed the flicker of displeasure in Seraphina’s eyes. Just then, the little boy came down the stairs, clutching a very cute bunny toy. He didn’t speak, only stood on the steps, watching me, his eyes as wary as a cat’s. I smiled at him. “Good morning, Dominic.” He ignored me, just lifting his bunny a little higher, as if asserting his dominance. Seraphina looked slightly embarrassed. “They’re a bit shy around new people, don’t mind them.” “It’s fine, they’ll get used to it,” I said, still smiling. “They’re still so young.” I spooned some cereal, lowered my head, and took a bite, hiding the turmoil in my eyes. Seraphina wasn’t even bothering to hide it. Did she truly think I was stupid? Both children had Richard Vance’s surname, yet she kept saying their father worked abroad. In my past life, I ate breakfast like this too, watching one call her ‘Mommy’ and the other ignore me. Four years. I went from being a sister to an unwanted Vance, then to a guest, and finally not even a guest. My school enrollment was inexplicably canceled, and I even needed their approval to apply to go back home. Not this time. This time, I’d make them hand over their future themselves. Before Seraphina drove me to school, she didn’t forget to pull the two children closer and say, “Come, say goodbye to your big sister.” “Goodbye, big sister!” The little girl waved cheerfully. The boy didn’t speak, just grunted softly. I looked back at them, smiling and nodding. “Goodbye, good children.” That ‘good children’ was meant for them, and for Seraphina too. I knew she was smart, and highly perceptive. She would notice my every glance, every word, even my posture. So I had to act even more harmless than she did. As she dropped me off at the school gate, she helped me with my bag, then started to fuss again. “The school provides lunch, remember to stay hydrated, Los Angeles is dry. Call me anytime if you need anything…” I watched her, her eyes gentle, her smile perfectly poised, thinking she was a natural-born actress. I pretended to listen intently. “I’ve got it, Aunt Seraphina, thank you.” She nodded, satisfied. Before I walked through the school gates, her last words were almost a whisper, right by my ear: “Eleanor, you need to know that abroad, no one will protect you. You have to rely on yourself.” I paused, then smiled faintly. “Yes, I understand.” I walked through the school gates with my backpack, the sunlight so bright it made me squint. Ahead lay new classmates, new teachers, new courses, and the entirely new game I was meticulously planning. But I wasn’t afraid. Because I wasn’t here to hide from the storm. I was here to lay the mines. At lunchtime, I didn’t go home. Instead, I went to a nearby library to meet a former schoolmate I’d already contacted – a student in accounting who had worked on Vance Group’s North American accounts in my past life. “You’re saying there were false accounts in that Vance Americas acquisition?” I asked in a low voice. He nodded, his eyes darting nervously. “I don’t want to get too involved. I was just asked to modify two invoices; it was definitely a money-laundering channel. I can’t say who…” I pulled out a business card. On it was the logo of the headhunting firm he would seek out in his future. “I know whose desk your future resume will land on, and I know which company you’ll intern at after graduation. Whether you get your career off the ground depends on how much you say today.” His face went pale. “…Who are you?” “I am Eleanor Vance, daughter of Richard Vance of the Vance Group,” I said slowly. “The legitimate, rightful, Elara Vance’s daughter.” He hesitated no longer, sending the two hidden false account documents to my email. As I received the files, I couldn’t help but smile. This life, I was no longer ‘good’. Nor was I slow. I would use every rule they taught me to nail them to the table, one by one. When I returned, I would make Richard Vance, Seraphina Hayes, and her little prince and princess know: I wasn’t a pawn they’d hidden in America. I was a hunter they’d unwittingly raised.

Time flew by in America. I immersed myself completely in my demanding studies. Besides my school courses, I also used my status as the eldest legitimate daughter to learn many things. I had to admit, Seraphina took excellent care of me – at least on the surface. I lived in the guest room she meticulously prepared, the curtains were my favorite cream color, the desk always had fresh stationery and a daily planner, the kitchen fridge was always fully stocked, and she was always at the school gate promptly after dismissal. Just like a real mother. She was also very cooperative with the things I needed to learn. She had to be. After all, according to my past life’s trajectory, I, the capable but naive older sister, was supposed to pave the way for her son. She never gave me a cold shoulder. In fact, she often praised me for being independent, smart, and well-mannered, often introducing me to others as the future corporate successor. Sometimes, I had to admire her acting skills. Even more natural than Seraphina were the twins. They had completely come to see me as their one and only big sister. Every night, the little girl insisted I tell her a bedtime story; the little boy would only go to sleep if I helped him arrange his toys, and he even liked me to carry him to wash his hands. They clung to me like ivy to a tree, cautiously yet with all their might. But I knew it wasn’t out of love – it was because they were still so young. They didn’t know who I was, didn’t know I wasn’t part of their ‘family of three.’ They also didn’t know that as they slowly grew up, Seraphina would personally pull me down from this ‘big sister’ position, little by little, until I was trampled into the dirt. But for now, I wasn’t in a hurry. The more they loved me now, the more it would hurt them later. I drew with them, played the piano, read English picture books, played role-playing games. In their eyes, I was the best, kindest, most thoughtful big sister. They called me ‘Eleanor Big Sister.’ In kindergarten, they even argued with other children, saying, “My big sister is the prettiest, and she protects me.” I always smiled and ruffled their hair. “Of course, I’ll protect you for your whole lives, okay?” I wasn’t lying. I would protect them – until they understood how their mother ‘protected’ my mother. That evening, I was curled up on the sofa doing homework, and a business interview program was on TV. A familiar logo flashed, and the host said enthusiastically: “Today, we’re honored to have Mr. Richard Vance, Chairman of the Vance Group! Welcome!” The camera zoomed in. My father was still in his well-tailored suit, his smile gentle, sitting primly in front of the camera. I stared at his face for a few seconds. It was so familiar it reminded me of watching cartoons in the living room as a child, when he’d stroke my head and say, “Eleanor, you’ll go to an Ivy League someday.” The host smiled and asked, “Mr. Vance, we hear you have a happy and fulfilling family life, with one daughter, Ms. Eleanor Vance. Is it true she’s currently studying in the States?” My father nodded, his smile unwavering. “Yes, I only have one child.” The host teased, “Oh dear, with so many businesses, such a vast empire, Ms. Vance will have quite a lot of pressure to take on all by herself.” My father paused for a moment, his smile faltering slightly. “Hmm… yes, but I believe she can do it.” I straightened up, staring at the familiar face on the screen, a faint smile playing on my lips. This was Richard Vance. In front of the camera, he was as perfect and impenetrable as always. But I saw the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, a trace of… guilt. That subconscious evasion, only I could understand. It wasn’t that he was reluctant for me to take over alone. It was that he longed to tell the world: “Actually, I have a son.” “The true heir isn’t her.” I turned off the TV, sitting in the dark for a long time without moving. Until my phone screen lit up with a reminder from here at home: the quarterly board meeting live stream was about to begin; Vance Group planned to launch its next round of overseas acquisitions. I clicked into the live stream, entering my hidden access password. On the screen were contracts, gambling clauses, fund flow reports, and pages of executive speeches from Vance Group. I scanned the list of executives, and a smile once again touched my lips. —Seraphina Hayes’s name was prominently listed. Her title had been upgraded to Global Strategic Executive Advisor, and she was a core member of the overseas acquisition team. Everything was just as it had been in my past life. She climbed the corporate ladder step by step, pacifying me, pretending to be a benefactor, doing it all flawlessly. And on my end, I, too, systematically pressed the sync button, saving all meeting records to my private cloud drive. Including the internal employee performance evaluation she had submitted last time – signed by her own hand – recommending that my mother’s former nominal shares and voting rights in the group be classified as “historical issues pending resolution.” I laughed. She was acting. And I was acting too. Only our scripts were different. She thought I was a horse, that once I was bridled, she could lead me anywhere. But I was just waiting – waiting for her to run faster and faster, so I could trip her and send her tumbling to the ground. At 2 AM, I sat at my desk, the lamplight falling on my notebook. The screen displayed names, profiles, and timelines. I wrote a line: “Eleanor Vance, now sixteen years old, Vance’s sole legitimate heir, assets in preparation for return.” Four years, not too long, not too short. The sunsets in Los Angeles were still golden, but I knew it was time for me to go. On my college graduation day, I didn’t invite my father. I only invited my mother.

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“Dad, I’ve agreed to move to France for the arranged marriage. We need to move fast, or I’ll change my mind.” Mr. Sterling’s reply was immediate: “My sweet girl, it will be handled within a month, tops!” Lily Sterling silently wiped away her tears and put her phone away. Just an hour ago, Damon Cunningham’s kisses had coaxed soft moans from her. The Bentley’s partition was up, isolating the back seat, so the driver heard nothing. Damon deepened the kiss, taking what he wanted. Lily loved him fiercely, irrevocably. She was utterly consumed by him. They had been together for three years, trying every possible scenario, and the car was a frequent setting. Damon’s phone buzzed. He scowled at the interruption, but his expression softened slightly when he saw the caller ID. He answered. Lily glimpsed the name on the screen—a foreign one. Georgian. A rare language; few people outside of Georgia understood it. “Calling at a time like this!” Damon snapped, his tone cold. “What, are you busy with something important?” the voice on the other end chuckled. Damon’s fingers tightened on Lily’s slender waist, a silent command in his touch. He spoke with a cool, lazy drawl: “You know I am, so get to the point.” “Tell me,” the voice mused, a hint of gossip in his tone, “how much does she resemble Seraphina?” Damon traced Lily’s delicate face with a dismissive touch. “About seventy percent.” “Damn it, you absolute bastard!” the man swore with a laugh. “What’s so great about this chick?” Damon kissed Lily’s neck. “Pure. Like a docile little puppy. Her eyes are clear, almost foolishly innocent. Clean.” The man’s breathing grew heavy. Damon frowned, annoyed. “Enough of that, you sick bastard. Get to the point or I’m hanging up!” “Seraphina’s flying back tomorrow,” the man quickly blurted, “to launch her career here!” Damon froze, his breath catching. “Really?!” “Seraphina wanted to keep it a secret, but I thought I’d give you a heads-up, didn’t I? Your first love, the one that got away, is back. You won’t have trouble ditching the stand-in, will you?” “There’s nothing money can’t solve,” Damon replied, his voice flat and detached. He tossed the phone aside and continued his actions. Lily’s head was half-bowed, hidden by the seat, but she saw the phone lying on the floor mat, still connected. Damon didn’t know she understood Georgian. Her family had business dealings in Georgia; she had studied the language for over five years. She understood perfectly. Tears welled up, a burning flood that soaked into her hair as she slumped. Three years of genuine devotion. In his eyes, she was nothing more than a dog. The sun shone brightly. It felt as though summer had arrived early. The three-story European-style villa was bathed in the morning light. Damon descended the stairs, leisurely fastening the diamond buttons of his custom-tailored shirt. He was Damon Cunningham, the younger heir of the Cunningham Group, a global top 100 conglomerate. He managed several of the family’s entertainment and media companies. His figure was tall and lean, exuding a cool, detached elegance, carrying the aloofness typical of a successful man. Three years ago, she was a freshman in college. The moment she first saw him, she was completely captivated. He had noticed her in the crowd too, his eyes lighting up. He pursued her relentlessly, and though she held him at arm’s length for three months, she eventually gave in. From then on, her heart and soul belonged to him. She had lost herself. But… Lily turned her head, her expression blank. Damon didn’t notice her unusual silence. He cupped her face and kissed her hard. “I’m off to a meeting at the office. You be a good girl and wait for me here. I’ll bring you some dessert.” With that, he turned and left. His tall frame, now retreating, held a curious hint of haste. Lily offered a bitter smile and began to organize her belongings. She started by systematically discarding every item that declared their love: matching mugs, toothbrushes, keychains, scarves, T-shirts, stuffed animals – all tossed into the trash. They seemed scattered and insignificant when she wasn’t paying attention, but gathering them filled a surprising number of boxes, leaving her sweaty from the effort. Returning after throwing out a box, she saw the living room TV broadcasting news about international star Seraphina Thorne’s return to the country. The airport lobby was swamped with fans, their screams and shouts echoing. Her hair was styled in glamorous waves, her figure tall and statuesque, her features perfectly sculpted. She possessed an undeniable, camera-ready beauty from every angle, smiling and waving for the cameras, eliciting another wave of cheers from her fans. As the camera panned, Lily caught a glimpse of a familiar figure in a corner of the airport lobby. *Ding, ding, ding.* A SnapChat notification pinged on the laptop. Damon never bothered to log out, his SnapChat still open on the screen. Lily walked over and clicked on it. *Sera darling: Damon, where are you? I don’t see you anywhere.* *Damon: I’m back in the car. Too many fans, I don’t want to be seen.* *Sera darling: Then I’ll meet you at the hotel.* Damon sent an OK emoji. *Sera darling: It’s been five years, I’m so excited to see you.* Lily gave a mocking laugh and went back to throwing things away. Damon didn’t return late. He’d been drinking; a hint of lingering amusement softened his usual cool, detached expression. He held a large bouquet of red roses, his voice a deep, resonant rumble: “I’m home.” Lily was curled up on the sofa, uploading photos to an online marketplace for designer pre-owned items. She was selling off her valuables, planning to donate the proceeds. Hearing his voice, she closed her laptop and looked up. Damon walked over, tucked the flowers into her arms, then wrapped her and the bouquet in a tight embrace, kissing her lips. “What’s wrong? Miss me?” Lily kept her lips pressed together, silent, as she lowered her head to smell the roses. Damon, as if performing a magic trick, pulled a long, narrow box from the wrapping paper of the roses and opened it. His eyes, the kind that could make anyone feel like the center of the universe, were now fixed on her, intensely alluring. Lily saw it was a diamond necklace she’d admired, worth over three hundred thousand dollars. A few days ago, when they were shopping, she had only glanced at it. She hadn’t expected him to buy it today. Seeing her staring at the necklace in a daze, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “So happy you’re speechless? Let me put it on you!” Lily’s long, slender white fingers caressed the necklace. She said, flatly, “Roses, diamonds… I almost thought you were going to propose.” Damon’s hands stilled. He shot Lily a sharp glance. His voice cooled. “When I propose, there’ll be something even better.” The smile had vanished from Damon’s face, replaced by a cold glint in his deep eyes. Lily looked away, reaching to unclasp the necklace. Damon seized her hand, then crushed her lips with his, pushing her onto the sofa. Her body instantly tensed. She turned her head, avoiding his mouth, and pushed at his hands. “I… I’m not comfortable.” Damon’s voice was imperious and cold: “Don’t play coy with me, Lily. I know your period just ended.” With that, he grabbed her hands again. Panic flared in Lily’s chest. Just then, Damon’s phone rang. Lily quickly pushed him. “Your phone! Answer it!” Damon let out an annoyed sigh, pulling his phone from his pants pocket. Lily, beneath him, could see the screen clearly. Caller ID: Sera darling. Damon quickly flipped the phone face-down on the sofa. He swept a detached glance over Lily, saw her expression was normal, and stood up. “I’ll take this call.” Then, he adjusted his pants, picked up his phone, and went upstairs. A short while later, he came back down, dressed in a different custom-tailored suit. “A buddy of mine ran into some trouble, I’m going to help him out. You go to sleep first.” He didn’t notice, not once, how many small items were missing from the villa, making it feel strangely empty. Damon hadn’t returned in three days. He’d called, saying he was busy with work. Lily’s mood was surprisingly calm. Still, she couldn’t help but check Seraphina Thorne’s social media. Updates every day. The first day’s photo showed two hands clinking two glasses of red wine, with the caption: *Some friendships are like fine wine, growing richer with age.* One of the hands was a man’s. Lily recognized that long, elegant hand, and the ring on its ring finger – a custom-made couple’s ring, identical to the one on her own hand. She slipped her ring off, a bitter smile on her face. “I’m so used to wearing it, I forgot to sell it.” The second day’s photo was of a sunset by the sea. Caption: *I wish I could grow old here, slowly.* Lily recognized the two coconut trees leaning against each other in the photo. She and Damon had planted them together on the beach near his seaside villa, and she had hung a handcrafted charm on one of them. The third day was a photo at an airport, where Damon’s tall, imposing figure could be seen among the bustling crowd. Seraphina’s fans went wild, asking if she was in love. She replied to all: *No, just feeling reflective, being back in a familiar place.* Lily suppressed the bitterness in her heart. She methodically mailed off the sold items to their buyers and donated the money to a prominent celebrity charity foundation. Some extremely valuable pieces of jewelry were too high-end for the online marketplaces, so she took them to an auction house. She also went to her university, completing the withdrawal procedures for her graduate program. Then she visited the immigration office, had her photo taken, and gave her fingerprints. She deactivated her rarely used social media and online shopping accounts, keeping only two frequently used ones, which she planned to deactivate before getting on the plane. Today was her birthday. After midnight, messages and calls of congratulations poured in without a break. Her parents, brother, sister, classmates, friends, mentors, professors… But not a single word from Damon. Lily glanced up at the picture frame on the wall. She was nestled in Damon’s arms, smiling sweetly, happily, utterly content, as if she possessed the entire world. Damon’s handsome face, however, was cold and deep-set, utterly expressionless. She let out a self-deprecating laugh, pulled over a chair, and reached up to take down the frame. Suddenly, the door opened. Damon walked in. His handsome face was dark and stormy, exuding an aura that warned people to keep their distance. He saw Lily perched on the chair, rushed over, and frowned. “What are you doing up so high?” Lily offered a faint smile. “Why are you back?” Damon lifted her from the chair, kissed her lips. “Silly girl, forgot what day it is?” A sudden pang of sorrow tightened Lily’s chest, and her eyes uncontrollably reddened. Damon cupped her face, kissing her eyes. “No more sadness, I remembered, see?” Lily lowered her long lashes, pushing him away in protest. He held her tightly, chuckling softly. “Think you’re not getting a gift? Come on, let’s go see your gift.” He pulled her hand, leading her towards the door. He pushed the door open, revealing a bright red Ferrari parked in the driveway. The car, costing over a million dollars, was perfect for a young woman like her. He placed the keys in her hand, his voice affectionate. “Your birthday gift. Do you like it?” “I love it,” Lily said, smiling. She wanted to ask: *Is this my severance package?* Damon bent down to kiss her ear… His touch, through her thin clothes, brushed against her body. His breathing grew heavier. He bent, picked her up, and carried her inside. Lily frowned, wondering how to refuse, when his phone rang again. A wave of self-mockery washed over Lily. She didn’t even need to think of an excuse to refuse; the phone always rang at the most opportune moment. He set her down, ruffled her hair, and said, “Go change into a dress. I’ll take you somewhere in a bit.” Lily felt like she’d been granted a reprieve. She turned and went upstairs. Behind her, she heard him answer the phone: “Hello, Sera…” Lily went back to her room and changed into a sapphire blue silk gown. The skirt fell past her knees, revealing only a hint of cleavage, but the largely exposed back was covered by her long, dark hair. She applied light makeup, put on a pair of pearl stud earrings, and went downstairs. Damon was still on the phone. He watched her descend the stairs, his eyes locking on her. Sapphire blue was a challenging color, but Lily’s skin was exquisitely fair, making her appear noble and elegant. A form-fitting silk dress easily exposed figure flaws, but Lily’s figure was perfect, without a single imperfection. Her features were delicate, her demeanor refined, captivating attention even without elaborate jewelry. Damon hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket. He reached for her waist, pulled her close, and kissed her lips, his touch possessive. “Why aren’t you wearing the diamond necklace?” “It’s too precious,” Lily said, her smile faint. “I bought it for you to wear,” Damon sighed. “Tomorrow, I’ll buy you an even better one.” Lily held up the car keys. “Let’s go. I can’t wait to drive my new car.” Damon affectionately ruffled the back of her head. “Alright, let’s go.” Once in the car, Damon sat in the passenger seat, setting the navigation. Lily noticed the destination was an exclusive club in the suburbs, open only to members, with an annual fee of half a million dollars. They had been there last year for Damon’s birthday. Just the two of them, for two days, they hadn’t even left the room. He had been so exhausted he’d gotten a nosebleed, and she’d ended up in the hospital. Lily frowned, realizing he intended to celebrate her birthday the same way. But she no longer had the passion or the desire. The thought made her feel sick. All the way there, she could only think about how to escape. The drive felt incredibly short. The electric gate opened, and the red Ferrari slowly drove in, stopping in front of an antique-style two-story building. Damon got out first. He walked around to the driver’s side, holding Lily’s high heels, and placed them on the ground. Lily took his arm to get out of the car, then slipped on her heels. As she stood upright, she heard two loud *bangs!* Lily jumped. A shower of red rose petals drifted down, creating a dreamlike scene. Damon pulled her close, shielding her with his arm. The handsome couple, locked in an embrace, was bathed in a rain of roses. “Oh! Hahahaha…” Many people rushed out from all directions, laughing and cheering joyfully. “Happy birthday, Lily!” “Happy birthday!” “You’re so beautiful, no wonder Mr. Cunningham kept you hidden so well!” “What a perfect couple!” Lily felt bewildered. For three years, Damon had never introduced her to his parents, relatives, or friends. He claimed that, dealing with celebrities and being part of the entertainment industry, he couldn’t make their relationship public. She had wanted to introduce him to her family, but he always said the time wasn’t right. What was happening now? Was the time finally right? Lily was in a daze, as Damon led her, arm in arm, into the grand ballroom. Music swelled, lights sparkled, rose petals floated down from the ceiling, and waiters in suits and bow ties wheeled out a birthday cake taller than a man. “Cut the cake!” In the joyous commotion, a cake knife was placed in Lily’s hand. Damon wrapped his arm around Lily, his hand over hers, whispering in her ear, “We’ll cut it together.” He found a spot, and the cake knife sliced down… “Am I late?” A tall figure appeared at the doorway. Damon’s hand froze, his eyes changing instantly. Lily looked up and saw Seraphina Thorne, backlit, radiant and dazzling, approaching. Many smiles in the room faltered – those who were in the know. Some who weren’t, paused for a moment, then erupted in excitement. “Seraphina Thorne!” “It’s Seraphina Thorne! The international star!” Many people swarmed Seraphina, taking photos, asking for autographs, and posing for selfies. Reporters and media personnel, in particular, began to pull out their equipment for interviews. Suddenly, Seraphina became the center of attention. A reporter asked, “Seraphina, why are you here? Do you know Mr. Cunningham?” Seraphina smiled gracefully and confidently. “Mr. Cunningham and I have been friends for years. I heard he was celebrating his girlfriend’s birthday, so I came to offer my blessings.” Another reporter asked, “From your Ins posts, it seems you’ve been with a mysterious man since returning to the country. Are you in a relationship?” Seraphina looked at Damon in front of her and said, “No, that was just a very, very good old friend.” A reporter teased, “Old friends can also fall in love and get married. Would you consider that mysterious man?” Seraphina looked directly at Damon and said, slowly and deliberately, “No. I. Wouldn’t.” Damon’s arm around Lily’s waist tightened, his gaze icy, his face darkening. The sudden chill in the air stiffened everyone’s smiles, and the lively atmosphere instantly cooled. “Today is my girlfriend’s birthday party,” Damon stated coldly, “not a press conference for the great Seraphina Thorne.” The event organizer quickly tried to smooth things over. “Right, right! Let’s cut the cake! Music!” These were all industry veterans; the atmosphere immediately livened up again. Lily took the first slice of cake and offered it to Seraphina, smiling. “Welcome, great Seraphina, have some cake.” Seraphina took the cake, staring at Lily’s face intently. “Why do I feel like we look a little alike?” she asked, surprised. She turned to the people around them. “What do you think?” Those in the know offered awkward smiles, trying to deflect. “Beautiful people often look similar, similar enough, haha.” Those who weren’t aware began to murmur. “Oh, she’s right, there’s a resemblance.” “At first glance, yes, but not so much upon closer inspection.” “Different styles. One is like a peony, dazzling and incomparable; the other, pure and elegant, like an orchid.” Lily smiled calmly. “What a coincidence. Even when I was little, people used to say I looked like the great star, Seraphina Thorne.” Those who understood the underlying meaning of her words exchanged knowing glances. Indeed, Lily was very young, only twenty-one, just graduated from college. Her beauty was natural, pure, and untouched by the world. She came from a privileged background, receiving the finest education and upbringing since childhood. That innate elegance, grace, confidence, and poise made her shine. Seraphina, on the other hand, wasn’t much older, only twenty-nine. But years of cosmetic procedures and navigating the entertainment industry had left her with a certain worldliness that no amount of acting could erase. Moreover, she came from an ordinary family, starting art school and joining the entertainment industry at a very young age, with insufficient academic training. This often gave people the impression of superficiality. Class and presence were qualities that radiated from within, and they were starkly evident when compared side-by-side. Someone intervened to break the tension. “Everyone, help yourselves to the buffet! Red wine, white wine, drink as much as you like.” The crowd dispersed, glasses in hand, mingling and chatting in small groups. Damon’s arm was around Lily’s waist. He whispered, “What would you like to eat? Or drink?” In such settings, no one was truly there to eat or drink. Lily didn’t know anyone and felt incredibly awkward. “Let’s sit by the French windows.” Damon brought her favorite red wine and dessert and stayed by her side, but his eyes kept drifting to Seraphina Thorne, who was skillfully working the room. Seraphina, with her radiant smile, was in her element. She chatted with reporters and independent media first, then clinked glasses with several producers and screenwriters. After that, she engaged in conversation with two powerful directors from the film industry. She wanted to build her career here, and cultivating relationships with these top directors was crucial. Under the influence of alcohol, men and women, all chasing fame and fortune, inevitably found themselves being plied with drinks, groped, and having their boundaries tested. Damon’s face grew darker, his aura colder. Initially, he made an effort to exchange a few words with Lily, but soon he couldn’t even manage that. Lily saw one director’s hand move to Seraphina’s lower back, while another handed her a large glass of brandy. Damon could no longer sit still. He abruptly stood up, strode over, snatched the glass of alcohol away, and said with a cold face, “Have you forgotten what the doctor said? And you’re still drinking!” His voice was so stern that the surroundings instantly fell silent. Everyone turned to look. Seraphina, slightly tipsy, smiled, making her even more enchanting. “Damon, you’re still so careful. Don’t worry, I know my limits.” The director, already quite drunk, chuckled. “Mr. Cunningham is deeply devoted to you, Seraphina! Back then, when you had a kiss scene, he even caused a scene on set!” A tipsy friend also laughed. “Exactly! Damon is a true romantic. Once he loves, it’s etched in stone, forever and always!” Seraphina quickly interjected, “Don’t talk nonsense, everyone. My stomach is very sensitive; he’s just worried I’ll get another stomach bleed.” Damon instinctively glanced at Lily, then at the gossiping eyes around them. He grabbed Seraphina’s hand and pulled her towards the exit. “Let’s talk outside!” Lily’s heart felt a complex mix of bitterness and sorrow. Damon was five years older than her, always composed, dignified, and capable of handling anything with calm detachment. She never imagined he would lose his composure like this, especially in public! She felt everyone’s eyes on her, filled with a strange mixture of curiosity and pity. She felt utterly uncomfortable. She stood up and went to the terrace. The wind was cool. There were no lights out here. The light from the main hall cast long, shifting shadows. She found a chair in a corner and sat down. Looking up, she saw Damon and Seraphina arguing fiercely by a flowerbed. Finally, Damon, furious, turned to leave. Seraphina reached out to grab him. He angrily shook her hand off. Seraphina, unsteady in her high heels, twisted her ankle and stumbled into the flowerbed. Hearing the commotion, Damon rushed over and pulled her out. She seemed quite injured, and her ankle was sprained. Damon picked Seraphina up and ran towards the red Ferrari. He placed her in the passenger seat, then drove off. By the flowerbed, a single silver high heel lay forgotten. With the main characters gone, people in the ballroom gradually started to leave. Lily returned to the ballroom. Leftovers and cold dishes, the party was over. The waiters, tidying up, looked at her with pity and a hint of gossip. Lily’s white high heels crunched over a carpet of red rose petals as she slowly walked out of the ballroom. The Ferrari was gone, driven away by Damon. “Ma’am,” a man’s voice called from behind her. Lily’s heart jumped. The voice sounded somewhat familiar. She turned to see a man with blond hair, appearing to be in his thirties, a mix of European and Asian descent, with deep-set eyes and a high nose—a rather handsome face. But his eyes held a lewd, unsettling glint. He extended his hand. “I’m Yuri, a Georgian-American.” Lily didn’t shake his hand. She turned away. Yuri awkwardly retracted his hand. “I’m a friend of Damon’s. It’s hard to get a cab here. I can give you a ride back.” Lily politely declined. “No need. The club has cars.” With an annual membership fee of half a million, the club offered chauffeured services. Lily walked towards a parked car in the distance. Yuri watched her perfectly curved silhouette, tilted his head, licked his lips, and flashed a predatory, confident smile. *The woman who could hold Damon’s attention for three years was indeed exceptional.* Lily felt his gaze like daggers in her back. As she settled into the club’s private car, she saw Yuri still standing there, watching her, his face filled with ill intent. Remembering his phone call with Damon earlier, a wave of disgust washed over her. She gave the driver her address and urged, “Let’s go.” Bored in the car, she picked up her phone. Online, the trending topics were exploding. The top four were all about Damon, Seraphina, and her. *DAMON CUNNINGHAM SPOTTED AT CITY HOSPITAL WITH SERAPHINA THORNE, LOOKING DISTRAUGHT, RAISING CONCERNS OF SERAPHINA’S SEVERE INJURIES/DISFIGUREMENT!* *DAMON CUNNINGHAM THROWS BIRTHDAY BASH FOR NEW GIRLFRIEND, EX-GIRLFRIEND SERAPHINA THORNE ATTENDS TO OFFER BLESSINGS, PRIVATE MEETING IN GARDEN, EARLY DEPARTURE!* *DAMON CUNNINGHAM’S NEW GIRLFRIEND 70% RESEMBLES SERAPHINA THORNE, A REAL-LIFE ‘STAND-IN’ DRAMA UNFOLDS!* *SIX YEARS APART, ARE SERAPHINA THORNE AND THE CUNNINGHAM HEIR STILL TOGETHER OR HAVE THEY REKINDLED AN OLD FLAME?!* The posts came with photos, videos, and “truth.” One particularly clear photo showed Lily offering cake to Seraphina, the two standing side-by-side. Seraphina’s fans flooded the comments. Some wished the couple well, hoping they’d finally be together. Others directly called out Damon’s new girlfriend, telling her to know her place and stop being a third wheel. Many fans suspected Seraphina’s injury was Lily’s jealous retaliation, hurling vile insults at her. Only a handful of sympathetic comments trickled in for Damon’s new girlfriend. Lily’s body trembled with rage. *How dare they publish her photos without her permission?* At such a high-end club, guest privacy was paramount. Information wouldn’t be released without explicit consent! This meant that Damon, as the host, had at least agreed to it. Lily immediately sent legal notices to the relevant websites, pursuing action for infringing on her likeness rights. Within two minutes, some of her photos and videos were deleted. But it was too late; thousands had already downloaded them, continuing to spread them in comment sections and private accounts. Lily wasn’t angry for long. By the time she returned to the villa, she had calmed down. Stepping into the living room, she saw their shared photos everywhere, finding them deeply ironic. She kicked off her high heels, tossed her bag aside, and began taking down all the picture frames. She removed the photos and burned them, then threw away the frames. She hadn’t realized how many photos there were. In the living room, the hallways, bedrooms, study, gym, on the walls, cabinets, and tables of the walk-in closet… The phone rang. Lily picked it up and saw it was her father. As soon as she answered, Mr. Sterling’s angry voice boomed: “Lily, what’s going on online? Why are you embroiled in a scandal at a time like this?” Lily sank onto the carpet, exhausted. “Dad…” Her nose stung, and her throat choked up. Mr. Sterling’s voice instantly softened. “My sweet girl, don’t cry, don’t cry! Dad’s here! We won’t be pushed around! Leave the websites to me, I’ll tear them apart!” Her family’s love instantly crumbled Lily’s composure. She covered her mouth, the evening’s accumulated grievances spilling out in choked sobs. “It’s no use crying now, honey,” Mr. Sterling sighed. “But Dad will teach that bastard Damon and that woman a lesson!” Lily wiped away her tears. “No, it’s fine. I was too foolish and naive, I brought this upon myself. I’ve already decided to emigrate and leave, so let’s just let it go.” “You, you never learn!” Mr. Sterling exclaimed, frustrated. He wanted to scold her, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could only sigh with heartache. Lily asked about the progress of her immigration application, then hung up. She took a shower and went to sleep. Damon didn’t come back all night. No calls, no messages. She woke up to the late morning sun. First, she grabbed her phone. All her photos and videos had vanished without a trace. Damon returned during breakfast. He wore yesterday’s clothes, his hair slightly disheveled, red veins in his eyes, and a shadow of stubble. Clearly, he hadn’t slept all night. He sat across from Lily, his voice heavy as he demanded, “The online stuff, did you send legal notices and sue?” Lily dabbed her lips with a napkin, meeting his gaze directly. “Yes, I did. I need to protect my rights.” Damon spoke in a businesslike tone: “The company has already signed Seraphina Thorne. She just returned to the country and needs publicity. I’ll give you fifty million dollars to withdraw your lawsuit against the websites and allow them to use your photos and videos for promotion.” A mocking smile touched Lily’s lips. “Mr. Cunningham, I’m not an employee of your company. I have no obligation, nor any need, to cooperate with your publicity stunts.” Damon’s eyebrows furrowed. He slammed the glass of milk he’d just picked up back onto the table, his cold eyes scrutinizing her. “Are you jealous? Are you mad about me leaving you last night? Seraphina injured her face and foot last night, that’s why I rushed her to the hospital. Her career depends on her looks; she can’t be disfigured.” “I’m not angry,” Lily smiled. “How you choose to promote her is irrelevant. Just don’t involve me. Understand?” Damon’s eyes sharpened, his voice chilling. “You’ve always been so obedient, so sensible. I hope you won’t disappoint me.” “I apologize if I’ve disappointed you, Mr. Cunningham,” Lily said flatly, “but I stand by my principles.” Damon looked at her, baffled, as if he’d punched a pillow. He lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and slowly exhaled a plume of smoke. His handsome, weary face, shrouded in smoke, took on an air of aristocratic melancholy. After a few drags, he calmed down. He stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray, walked over, and sat next to Lily. He pulled her into his embrace. “Alright, we won’t use your photos and videos. Don’t be angry anymore. How about twenty million dollars if you withdraw the lawsuit? Offending those reporters and independent media will also harm the company’s reputation.” As he spoke, he kissed her ear. His hand moved to her collar. Since it was Damon’s company that had orchestrated it, Lily decided to agree to withdraw the lawsuit. She would consider it payment for his companionship these past three years. After all, he had always been… attentive. Just as she was about to nod, Damon’s phone rang. He kept one arm around her, pulled out his phone, glanced at it, and answered. He spoke in Georgian. “Yuri, what’s up?” Yuri’s voice was insidious and malicious. “Have you smoothed things over with Lily? Has she agreed to withdraw the lawsuit? Those reporters and independent media are hounding Seraphina for responsibility, she’s practically in tears.” Damon said, lazily, “Why wouldn’t she agree?” Yuri chuckled darkly. “Man, I’m really envious. I’ve truly fallen for Lily. You’ve got Seraphina now, why don’t you let me have Lily? Just to… satisfy a craving.” Damon’s arm around Lily tightened. He snarled, “Get lost!” She was so close, Lily heard every word clearly. Damon’s previous words had been ambiguous, making her think it was his company’s operation. She hadn’t realized it was Seraphina Thorne’s doing. Damon hung up, kissed Lily’s face, and urged, “Call your lawyer and withdraw the lawsuit.” “I’m not withdrawing it,” Lily said, her voice cold. Damon’s face instantly darkened. He stood up, towering over her. “Don’t be dramatic, alright? My company will suffer losses. What good does that do you?” Lily held firm. “Your team and those reporters and independent media—they all know about privacy and likeness rights, don’t they? Yet they knowingly broke the law. Why? I was bullied, and instead of holding them accountable, you come to me to make a deal. Why?” Damon’s icy eyes stared at her. “I barely recognize you like this,” he said, disappointed. “Jealousy really distorts a person.” With that, he pushed his dining chair back and went upstairs. The chair scraped loudly, a testament to his anger. Whenever Seraphina was involved, he couldn’t remain calm. Lily lowered her eyes, continuing to slowly sip her bird’s nest porridge. A moment later, Damon came back downstairs. He had changed clothes, and his hair was still damp, indicating he had showered. He paused at the restaurant entrance, turning to look at Lily. “I’ll still transfer the twenty million to you. I apologize for the trouble I’ve caused.” He was perfectly polite. But Lily keenly sensed his coldness and detachment. She didn’t care. More orders had come in on the online marketplace. She packed everything and shipped them off. For seven days straight, Damon didn’t return, nor did he send any messages. That morning, her phone suddenly rang. Lily was startled awake. She fumbled for her phone and saw it was Damon. Her brows furrowed slightly as she answered. Damon’s voice was slurred, his words thick; he must have been heavily drunk. “Lily, quick… come pick me up, take me… home.” Lily heard loud music in the background. “Where are you?” she asked. “Lust Nightclub,” Damon slurred. “VIP Room eighty-eight.” “Alright,” Lily said. She quickly got up, pulling on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. After a moment’s thought, she found a pair of sparkling black stud earrings and put them on. She went downstairs to the garage. The red Ferrari was parked at the very front. The car wasn’t registered under her name yet, so she hadn’t sold it. Lily opened the driver’s side door and slid in. But she noticed a pair of black stockings on the passenger seat, and a silver high heel on the floor mat. She recognized the high heel; it was a match for the one Seraphina had dropped by the club’s flowerbed on her birthday. A wave of nausea washed over her. She got out and found her BMW Mini among Damon’s dozen luxury cars. It was past two in the morning. She arrived at Lust Nightclub’s underground parking garage. Just as she parked, a middle-aged man emerged from behind a dark pillar and blocked her way. “Hey, miss! Can I borrow some tissues? I’m in a hurry and forgot my own.” Lily was highly wary of strangers approaching her. “No,” she refused. “I lost my phone,” the man tried again. “Can you spare some money? For tissues, and for a ride home.” “No!” Lily said, her voice cold. With that, she turned and walked away. As the elevator doors opened, deafening music blasted out. Flashing lights were dazzling. Men and women swayed together, drinking, singing, flirting… Lily disliked such noisy scenes. She asked the front desk attendant for directions, then went through a soundproof door into a hallway. High-end VIP rooms lined both sides of the hallway, their thick doors keeping the corridor quiet. Lily found VIP Room 88 and pressed the doorbell. The thick soundproof door opened, and a wave of ear-splitting dance music poured out. It was bright outside, but dark inside. Lily couldn’t quite make out the situation within. She stepped inside. The door suddenly closed behind her. Lily gasped, spinning around abruptly, coming face-to-face with Yuri’s lecherous eyes. At the same moment, Yuri raised his hand and *hissed* twice, spraying something at her. Lily tried to dodge, but it was too late. A subtly sweet scent enveloped her, and she inhaled several breaths. Yuri blocked the door, leaving her no choice but to retreat further into the room. “What do you want?” she asked warily. “I want you!” Yuri chuckled darkly. He then *hissed* several more times, spraying her with the substance. Lily felt a flush of heat, her heart pounding, her legs weak, her eyes swimming from the disco lights. As expected, Yuri was spraying her with a despicable drug! Nightclub VIP rooms prized soundproofing and privacy; there was only one soundproof door and no windows. With the music blaring, Lily could scream her lungs out, and no one would hear her! Yuri, who must have taken an antidote beforehand, lunged forward in a few steps, grabbed her, and pressed a kiss on her. “My darling, Big Brother finally has you!” Lily was both horrified and furious. She struggled and fought. “Let go of me! This is a crime!” Yuri grabbed her arm, flung her onto the sofa booth, and pounced on her like a starving wolf. Lily was terrified. She lifted her leg to kick him. But he anticipated her move, leaning forward to pin her down. His hands pinched and squeezed, and he gritted his teeth. “Crime? It’s just the two of us here, no cameras. I’ll say you drank too much and were willing, then woke up and tried to accuse me. Who will the judge believe? It’ll just be dismissed!” Despair washed over Lily. She struggled weakly. “Damon won’t let you get away with this!” Yuri held her down, unbuttoning her jeans, his laughter wild and perverse. “Silly girl, Damon sent you to me! Didn’t he call you here? He’s probably having a good time with Seraphina next door!” Lily felt like she’d been struck by lightning. Tears of heartbreak and indignation streamed down her face. Yuri unzipped her jeans, pulling them down. “Tonight, I’ll show you what Big Brother can do. I’m better than Damon! Seraphina has been in the West for six years, she’s into all sorts of things. Damon will definitely come back to you! By then, after you’ve been with me, you won’t even look at him! Heh heh…” Lily snapped back from the shock, her pants already pulled down to her hips. She raised her hand and slapped Yuri across the face. *Snap!* The sound was sharp and loud. Yuri’s expression changed instantly, but then he twisted it into a sick smile. “A feisty one, I like that!” Lily raised her right hand to strike again, but he caught her wrist. She raised her left hand, and he seized that wrist too. Yuri’s eyes flashed menacingly. “Your little struggles are just foreplay! Once the drug fully kicks in, you’ll be crying and begging for Big Brother!” With that, he bent down to kiss her, like a mad dog. Lily felt a burning heat in her abdomen, her entire body too weak to resist. In the adjacent VIP room, Seraphina held a glass of red wine, admiring the footage on her phone. She smiled at her assistant beside her. “If Lily hadn’t worn pants today, Yuri would have already succeeded. But this is even better; it will only further ignite Yuri’s animalistic urges.” “What if Lily reports Yuri?” the assistant asked, worried. Seraphina scoffed. “Report Yuri? What does that have to do with me? I didn’t do anything. I just suggested Damon call Lily to pick him up.” The assistant looked at her with admiration and awe. Seraphina smiled triumphantly. “With these videos, Lily *has* to withdraw her lawsuit. Otherwise, I’ll release them online! Let’s see who’s willing to sacrifice everything!” With that, she excitedly clenched her fist at her phone. “Yuri, take off her pants, go! Go, go, go!” Damon, lying on the sofa, stirred. “Water, Lily, get me a glass of water,” he slurred. Seraphina’s body stiffened. She turned to look at Damon’s handsome face, a flicker of jealousy in her eyes. “Coming.” She turned off her phone screen and went to get Damon some water. Next door, in the VIP room, Lily felt that her night was about to end in disaster. As Yuri loosened his grip on her hands to pull off her pants, she fought desperately, scratching his face and neck until they were raw. Yuri, like a beast, growled, “Little wildcat, you’ve only made Big Brother more interested! Soon, I’ll record your wild antics for your own viewing pleasure!” With that, he pulled Lily off the sofa booth. Lily’s legs were weak and useless. She crumpled to her knees on the carpet. She reached out to push Yuri, who was pressing down on her. Lily’s eyes were moist, her cheeks flushed, her body already losing control. Sounds escaped her throat, muffled whimpers… No! She couldn’t just give up! She bit down hard on her tongue. The sharp pain brought back some clarity. She abruptly raised her leg and slammed her knee into Yuri’s nose. Yuri was half-kneeling on the carpet, head bent, pulling at her skinny jeans. He hadn’t expected Lily to still have the strength to fight back, and his nose took a direct hit. “Ah!” he screamed, instinctively letting go of Lily’s hands, and sat on the floor, clutching his nose. Lily quickly scrambled to her feet, bit her tongue hard again to stay conscious, and delivered a powerful kick to Yuri’s groin. “Aow!” Yuri shrieked, curling up and rolling on the floor. Lily saw a small spray bottle peeking out of his back pocket. She decisively grabbed it, held her breath, and sprayed him in the face repeatedly, *hiss, hiss, hiss, hiss, hiss!* Then she stumbled and crawled towards the door. Opening the VIP room door, a gust of cold air rushed over her, bringing back more of her senses. She quickly wiped her fingerprints off the bottle with her T-shirt, threw it back into the room, slammed the door shut, and ran out. But her legs were weak; even holding onto the wall, she couldn’t run fast. She felt a burning heat throughout her body, with only one thought: *find a man!* She knew that if this continued, something terrible would happen. Either she’d strip naked and make a public spectacle of herself, or some other man would pick her up. Call the police? High-end nightclubs like this had powerful connections. If they got wind of it, they’d deal with her first! Call friends for help? Too late! What to do? What could she possibly do?! *Click!* A door opened. Lily spun around, startled, and saw the door to VIP Room 88, next door, open. Her scalp prickled. If Damon caught her, he would surely send her back to Yuri! Lily’s heart raced with anxiety. The best option was to find an empty VIP room, hide, douse herself in cold water, and try to ride it out! So, she quickly pushed open the door of the nearest VIP room. The door actually swung open. She didn’t hesitate, quickly slipping inside and closing the door behind her. Just as the door shut, she saw Seraphina emerge from her own room and head towards VIP Room 88. Seraphina had barely pushed open the door when someone yanked her inside, and she let out a scream. Lily locked the door from the inside and even hooked the chain. The VIP room was dark and silent; it seemed empty. She felt a wave of relief, immediately followed by the overwhelming sensation of burning heat. She slumped against the wall, slowly sliding to the floor, pulling off her T-shirt to cool herself down. She heard her own ragged breathing and pounding heartbeat. Her entire body felt as if ants were crawling over her, an unbearable agony. She couldn’t help but let out suppressed moans. Suddenly! *Click!* The lights flickered on. Lily’s consciousness was already hazy. Through the fog, she saw a tall, handsome man slowly approach her. The man appeared to be in his thirties, with striking features, deep-set eyes, a high nose, and a mixed European-Asian heritage. Lily, like a dying traveler in the desert who spots an oasis, crawled towards him. “Help me! Please, help me…” She was naturally beautiful; not just her face, but her figure was exceptional. Now, her hair was soaked, her eyes watery, her voice soft and alluring… The man’s sapphire blue eyes darkened. “Madam, should I call the police for you, or an ambulance?” Lily wanted him to help her to the restroom for cold water. “Water, cold water…” She clung to his leg, using it to pull herself to her knees. The moment her body made contact with his, *bang!* Her tightly strung rationality snapped. She had only one thought now: *I need this man!* She was like someone starved for seven days seeing bread. She embraced him, pleading, “Help me! I’ll pay you!” The man’s body stiffened. He reached down, pulled her up, his voice a deep rumble. “I’ll take you to the hospital.” Her ears were ringing, she couldn’t hear anything anymore. Her whole body felt like it had been boiling in water, her blood surging. Another second, and her heart would explode. She stood on her toes, tilted her head, and kissed him, winding around his tall, lean body like a snake, her trembling hands reaching for his casual pants. The man’s eyes instantly darkened. “This is *your* request!” He abruptly bent down, scooped her into his arms, tossed her onto the sofa booth, and with one hand, started to pull down her pants. This time, Lily was entirely cooperative. The man moved like a cheetah hunting prey on the savanna, full of primal ferocity and power. She didn’t know how much time passed until Lily gradually regained consciousness, utterly exhausted. But this place was too dangerous; anyone could walk in at any moment. Lily crawled around, gathering her scattered clothes and shoes, and dressed with trembling hands. The man’s hair was damp, his athletic body covered in a fine sheen of sweat, almost shimmering. Lily couldn’t help but glance at him a few more times. She picked up her phone, intending to transfer money to him. But then she thought, in this situation, it would be safer not to leave any digital trace. After a moment’s consideration, she took off her wristwatch and placed it on the man’s abs. “This watch is worth over five million. It’s your payment.” The man’s face instantly darkened. He picked up the watch and sat up, staring intently at her. Lily, fearing he would demand more, quickly ran out. Five million for one night—that was plenty! Afraid of running into Damon and his group, she avoided the main lobby and took the fire escape. Exiting the doors of Lust Nightclub, she found that dawn had broken. The streets were bustling with cars and hurried pedestrians, already starting their day. She took a deep breath, descended the steps, and walked towards the parking lot. “Lily!” Damon’s voice called from behind her. Lily’s body stiffened. She slowly turned around and saw Damon emerge from Lust Nightclub, his face dark and brooding. Seraphina Thorne, clinging to his arm, walked with graceful allure. A scarf was wrapped around her neck. She looked tired but offered a polite, weary smile. “Ms. Sterling, hello, we meet again.” Damon’s eyes were like ice. He’d blacked out last night, completely forgetting he had called Lily. He demanded, his voice cold, “What are you doing here?” Lily’s fury turned to a mocking laugh. “Where else should I be? In Yuri’s bed?” *Was he angry because his plan hadn’t worked?* Damon’s chest swelled with rage. So early, Lily’s hair was disheveled, her expression exhausted. It looked like she had spent the night at Lust! He desperately wanted to know what Lily had been doing at Lust all night! But he didn’t want to confront Lily in public. He walked over and grabbed her wrist. “Let’s talk back home.” His grip was strong, hurting Lily. Lily frowned, struggling. “Let go! You’re hurting me!” Damon’s expression was grim. “Behave!” he ordered, his voice deep. Seraphina caught up, gently advising, “Damon, don’t get angry. Let’s talk calmly.” Suddenly, a middle-aged man carrying a bucket of paint rushed over. “Seraphina Thorne! You harlot! Shameless!” With that, he lifted the paint bucket and hurled its contents at Seraphina. The three of them were standing close together; there was a lot of paint, and no one could escape it. In a flash of panic, Damon released Lily’s wrist, pulled Seraphina into his arms, spun around, and shielded her. At the same time, Lily instinctively raised her arm to block her face and turned away. Bright red paint splattered Damon’s back, and covered Lily’s head and body. “Ah!” “Ah!” “Ah!” Lily, Seraphina, and bystanders all screamed simultaneously. Damon roared, furious, to the Lust security guards: “Grab him!” Lily recognized the paint-wielding man as the same middle-aged man she had encountered in the parking lot last night. At the same time, the middle-aged man threw down the paint bucket, pulled out a boning knife, and lunged towards Seraphina. “You home-wrecker! You whore!” Damon had some self-defense training. He shielded the terrified Seraphina behind him and kicked out at the middle-aged man. The direction of his kick was precisely towards Lily! The middle-aged man was struck and stumbled towards Lily, the tip of the boning knife aimed directly at her! Her legs felt like jelly, and she reeled back in fear, but tripped over the steps behind her, falling backward. The middle-aged man also toppled forward. If he landed on her, Lily would surely be dead or severely injured. “Lily!” Damon shouted, his heart pounding with anxiety, but he couldn’t reach her in time. In that split second! A flowerpot fell from an upper floor of Lust Nightclub, striking the middle-aged man directly on the head. The man’s body lurched. The Lust security guards seized the opportunity, rushed forward, tackled him, and restrained him. Lily lay on the steps, her body aching, her tailbone numb. She couldn’t get up immediately. “Lily!” Damon ran over, picking her up. “Are you alright?” Tears streamed down Lily’s face from the pain. “It hurts.” “Don’t be scared,” Damon said. “We’re going to the hospital.” The middle-aged man, restrained by security, roared at her: “Lily Sterling! You can’t leave! You haven’t paid me yet! You said you’d make sure I was fine!” Damon’s steps faltered, his face instantly darkening. By now, a crowd had gathered to watch. Many held up their phones, taking photos and videos. Seraphina looked at the middle-aged man, utterly incredulous. “What are you talking about?” The middle-aged man frantically explained, “Don’t arrest me, don’t hit me! Lily Sterling promised me a hundred thousand to teach Seraphina Thorne, that bitch who stole her boyfriend, a lesson! She said she’d guarantee I wouldn’t get into trouble, that’s why I did it!” *Boom!* The gossiping crowd erupted. This scandal was massive! Two women fighting over one man, driven by jealousy, hiring someone to inflict harm! Damon’s arm loosened, and he looked down at Lily with a cold, contemptuous gaze, filled with disappointment. Lily slipped from his arms, standing on the ground, her heart plummeting into icy water. He didn’t believe her! She looked at Damon, her voice weak as she explained, “I didn’t.” Seraphina, however, nodded earnestly. “Ms. Sterling, I believe you’re not that kind of person!” She turned to the middle-aged man. “This is impossible, I don’t believe it. Do you have any evidence?” “We made the deal right here in the parking lot,” the middle-aged man insisted. “There must be security footage of it!” Lily understood everything then. It was a setup. Police cars arrived at that moment. A kind citizen had called them. The entire group was invited into the police cars. Lily sat in the police car, looking up. She saw a man standing at the window of the sixth-floor stairwell of Lust. It was the mixed-race man. Had he thrown the flowerpot and saved her? At the police station, Lily and the middle-aged man each presented their conflicting accounts. As for what happened inside Lust Nightclub, it was deemed irrelevant to the case, so no details were inquired about. Detectives went to retrieve the parking lot’s surveillance video. Damon remained seated beside Seraphina, his cold gaze fixed on Lily, clearly showing where his loyalties lay. Feeling suffocated, Lily stood up and went to the restroom. Her elbows and palms were scraped from falling on the steps. As she washed them, she trembled with pain. Her hair, neck, and white T-shirt were all covered in red paint. Water wouldn’t wash it off, leaving her in a disheveled state. Seraphina walked in, opened each stall door to confirm no one else was there, and then began to wash her hands. She had been well-protected by Damon; only a few drops of paint had splattered on her shoes. She looked at Lily’s reflection in the mirror, a triumphant smile on her face. “Look at you, what a mess! You’re disgusting. Damon protected me, not caring if you lived or died. You were together for three years, and he still doesn’t trust you. How does that feel? Does it hurt?” Lily met her gaze in the mirror, utterly silent. Seraphina let out a scornful chuckle. “Little sister, you’re so foolish and naive. Do you think I did all this for Damon?” Lily turned to her. “Then why?” Seraphina took a lipstick out of her twenty-thousand-dollar purse and twisted it up. “Who told you to be so ungrateful? Using an unknown like you for publicity was a compliment, and you sued! Damon offered you twenty million, and you still refused to withdraw the lawsuit.” “Damon doesn’t like scheming women,” Lily said calmly. “If he knew what you’ve done, he’d be disgusted with you.” Seraphina laughed as if she’d heard something hilarious. “No wonder Damon says you’re as dumb as a puppy! You have no idea what a ‘first love’ means to a man, do you? So what if I left him to pursue my career abroad? So what if we haven’t spoken in five or six years? All I have to do is snap my fingers, and he’ll come running back like a loyal golden retriever.” Lily’s heart filled with irony. Damon thought she was a puppy. Seraphina thought *he* was a golden retriever. Was this karma? Seraphina looked at her coldly. “If you’re smart, you’ll withdraw the lawsuit immediately.” “And if I don’t?” Seraphina tapped her phone a few times and held it out. “Look. What’s this?” Lily’s mind went *buzz!* when she saw it. It was a video of her and Yuri in VIP Room 88! Seraphina had edited the video cleverly. Yuri was pressing her down, pulling off her pants. Yuri’s back was to the camera, but Lily’s expression was clearly visible. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her eyes watery and dazed, looking utterly submissive. The music in the VIP room was loud, drowning out any spoken words. So, it looked as though she was completely willing. Lily was incandescent with rage. She reached out to snatch the phone, but Seraphina quickly pulled it away. “Stealing my phone won’t help. I have plenty of copies.” Lily trembled with anger, leaning weakly against the sink, glaring at her with hatred. Seraphina smiled. “Tell me, if I post this video on international social media, and it gets shared back here, what do you think will happen? There aren’t as many ‘rules’ on international platforms. These kinds of videos are common. You won’t be able to sue.” “If you’re so capable,” Lily said, her voice cold, “post the *entire* video. When I left, I sprayed Yuri with an entire bottle of that drug. He must have gone crazy, right? And then you walked into VIP Room 88. Did you enjoy what happened next?” Seraphina’s face darkened. She remembered how Yuri had acted like a beast towards her last night, and she shivered involuntarily, gritting her teeth. “What are you so proud of? The video is in my hands; I can post whatever segment I want!” Lily looked at the bruised, purple marks visible through the gap in Seraphina’s scarf. “Look at that. How intense was last night? Even a scarf can’t hide it.” Seraphina quickly adjusted her scarf in the mirror, a triumphant look on her face. “Those are from Damon!” “You and Damon can believe that,” Lily said flatly. With that, she walked out of the restroom. The police officers’ gazes were complex and unreadable. Damon was on the phone, his face grim. “Contact the websites, tell them to delete all the videos!” Lily pulled out her phone. Sure enough, today’s incident had also topped the trending searches, claiming the first and second spots. *INTERNATIONAL STAR SERAPHINA THORNE DOUSE DIN PAINT, NEARLY STABBED! ATTACKER ALLEGES LILY STERLING HIRED HIM!* *SERAPHINA THORNE AND DAMON CUNNINGHAM SPEND NIGHT AT NIGHTCLUB, DAMON’S GIRLFRIEND HIRES ATTACKER TO THROW PAINT!* Beneath these, many related videos had been uploaded. There had been too many people at the scene; videos from every angle were available. Each post was flooded with comments. Seraphina’s fans were practically spewing venom through their screens. *Die! Go to jail! Why wasn’t she stabbed to death?! Lock her in a dog pound and let the dogs have her…* Damon hung up his phone and walked over, his voice deep with condemnation. “Why did you do something so stupid? Now this is impossible to fix!” Seraphina rushed over, trying to soothe him. “Damon, don’t worry, we’ll find a way.” Damon’s voice was like an ice blade. “What way? These trending searches are real data!” A police officer commented, “This has become a public incident. Too many people are posting; it’s hard to suppress. Suing for privacy and likeness infringement in a case like this isn’t easy to manage.” Lily clutched her phone, head bowed, silent, offering no defense. Just then, the officer who went to retrieve the parking lot surveillance video returned. The date was recent, so it was easy to find. The video showed the two having some contact and speaking, but there was no audio, so the content was unknown. Fortunately, there were quite a few cameras in the parking lot, capturing both their backs and fronts. Moreover, Lily hadn’t given the middle-aged man anything. If she had exchanged a few more words or given him tissues or money, she would have been beyond refute. “Please look at my lips,” Lily argued. “I said only four words: ‘No, I don’t.’ My own name is only three syllables; how could I have communicated so much with him?” The middle-aged man’s eyes flickered, and he changed his story. “This was our second meeting. The first wasn’t here. Everything was made clear during that first conversation.” “Where did this first meeting take place?” Lily asked, her voice calm. “My home, my neighborhood, my university – they all have surveillance cameras. We can establish an alibi.” The middle-aged man heard this and couldn’t concoct another lie. “The time, the time was too long ago, I forgot the exact date!” “Do you remember the location?” the officer asked. The middle-aged man’s eyes darted around, his voice uncertain. “In, in the small grove by the river. No cameras there.” With no surveillance footage, no witnesses, and no concrete evidence of transfer or transaction, Lily was ultimately released due to insufficient evidence. “I want to sue him for defamation,” Lily said, her voice cold. “I want to sue him for endangering public safety and intentional assault!” The middle-aged man panicked, shouting in protest, “No! I’m telling the truth! It’s the truth!” “Regardless of whether you’re telling the truth,” the officer stated in a businesslike manner, “intentional assault and disturbing public safety are actions you committed. These are established criminal facts.” The middle-aged man lowered his head and was taken into custody for disturbing public safety. Other charges would be investigated further. Seraphina smiled sheepishly. “I knew it wasn’t Ms. Sterling’s doing. I’m sorry to have dragged you into this and caused you distress.” Damon also looked annoyed. “Let’s go home,” he said grimly. Lily didn’t spare either of them a glance. She told the investigating officer, “I will entrust all subsequent matters to my lawyer.” With that, she turned and walked away. Damon quickly followed, his brows furrowed, his face dark. Seraphina hurried after them, her eyes flashing with cold malice. *This Lily Sterling was really difficult to deal with!* *Hmph! Just wait until I destroy you!* She pulled out her phone, tapped a few times, and a triumphant, cold smile played on her lips. Reaching the elevator bank, Damon quickly pressed the down arrow. Lily stepped back two paces, not wanting to be too close to him. Damon frowned, looking at her, his ‘peach blossom’ eyes flashing with an apology. *Ding…* A message arrived on his phone. He glanced at the screen. The elevator arrived, empty. The three of them stepped inside. Lily stood in the innermost corner, her face devoid of emotion. Damon stood nearest the door, making a phone call, his mind elsewhere. “What is it?” He didn’t know what the person on the other end said. His expression hardened. “What did you say?!” Seraphina stood behind Damon, arms crossed, casting a sidelong glance at Lily, a smirk playing on her lips. Damon hung up and started looking at his phone, his face as dark and terrifying as the sky before a storm. “Damon,” Seraphina asked, concerned, “why do you look so terrible? Has something happened?” Damon didn’t speak until a video opened on his phone. The disco music from inside blasted out. Lily looked at Seraphina, meeting her triumphant, chilling gaze head-on. Damon’s eyes turned bloodshot. He seized Lily by the collar, yanking her towards him. He thrust the phone in front of her face. “What is this?!” he demanded, his voice trembling with fury. Lily saw the exact video Seraphina had shown her earlier. “You called me to Lust,” she said, her voice flat. “You tell me what’s going on.” Her indifferent attitude only fueled Damon’s rage. He lost all control, raising his hand and slapping Lily across the face. *Smack!* The sound, in the confined elevator, was exceptionally sharp and loud. Lily reeled from the blow, stumbling back against the elevator wall. Her face burned with pain. Her ears rang. The metallic taste of blood spread in her mouth. Tears streamed uncontrollably from her eyes. A flicker of satisfaction crossed Seraphina’s eyes. She quickly clutched Damon’s arm, feigning concern. “Damon, calm down! Let’s talk things through, don’t resort to violence!” Damon’s ‘peach blossom’ eyes blazed with fury, as if he wanted to incinerate Lily. He gritted his teeth, his words forced through them: “I can’t believe… how low you are!” Lily wiped a trickle of blood from her lip with the back of her hand, her gaze icy as she met his. She surged forward, raising her hand, and slapped him back with equal force. Damon’s face was knocked sideways. Seraphina shrieked, clutching his arm. “Damon, are you okay?!” “I’m low?” Lily’s voice was cold. “You called me to Lust, delivered me to Yuri, and you call *me* low?!” Seraphina’s eyes flickered. “How could you hit Damon? He’s never been slapped in the face before!” The elevator doors opened, revealing a crowd of people outside. Their eyes gleamed with gossipy interest as they saw the paint-splattered individuals inside. Lily stepped out first. Damon and Seraphina, their faces dark, also emerged. As the three walked out of the police station, they were swarmed by an eager crowd of fans, reporters, paparazzi, and independent media. They pressed forward relentlessly, like starved, rabid dogs. “Lily Sterling, why are you out? Did you really hire someone to harm Seraphina Thorne?” “Mr. Cunningham, two women fighting over you to the point of hiring someone for assault – what are your thoughts?” “Mr. Cunningham, do you prefer Seraphina Thorne or Lily Sterling? After all, they look so similar!” “Seraphina Thorne, did Lily Sterling really try to hurt you? Will you press charges to the fullest, or choose to forgive?” None of the three spoke. Damon, his face dark, shielded Seraphina and pushed his way out. Lily forced her way through the crowd alone. Suddenly, a rotten egg splattered against Lily’s forehead. Seraphina’s fans screamed in fury, “Whore! You snake! Apologize to Sera!” “You bitch! Go to hell!” “Slut! Whore! Selling yourself at a nightclub and still bullying our goddess!” Seraphina, her face a mask of terror, stepped in front of her fans, pleading, “Lily, please don’t be angry! These fans are just too worried about me; they didn’t mean it. Take your anger out on me, just please, don’t hurt my fans, I beg you…” Her voice was laced with a tearful, mournful, tender, and kind quality. The fans’ anger surged even higher. Another rotten egg smashed against Lily’s head. The egg burst, inevitably splattering onto Seraphina. Damon pulled her into his arms, his voice grim. “Let’s go, we need to leave here now!” He glanced at Lily, his gaze like an arctic glacier, cold and merciless. Another rotten egg splattered on Lily’s face, its foul stench burning her nostrils. She numbly watched Damon shield Seraphina, push through the chaotic crowd, get into Seraphina’s personal car, and drive away. She stood like a withered leaf in the frigid wind, solitary and cold. Fortunately, they were at the police station entrance. Officers responded swiftly, and the crowd scattered like flies. A kind, middle-aged female officer handed Lily a towel, sighing with pity. “Here, wipe yourself. I’ll drive you back.” Lily took the towel, wiping the rotten egg off her face. “Thank you,” she said softly. Covered in red paint and rotten egg, she probably wouldn’t even be able to hail a cab. The kind female officer drove her to Lust Nightclub’s parking lot. As Lily got into her own car and locked the doors, feeling safe, the overwhelming wave of injustice and heartbreak finally washed over her. She slumped over the steering wheel, sobbing uncontrollably. She had already decided to leave, already mentally prepared, yet the pain and humiliation were still overwhelming. Her phone rang. Lily grabbed a tissue, wiped her tears and snot, and answered. “Dad…” Mr. Sterling immediately knew she was crying from her voice. “My sweet girl,” he said gently, “I know about the online mess. Don’t worry, your old man will make them pay!” Tears streamed from Lily’s eyes like a fountain. She sniffled. “Dad,” she choked out, “no, let me handle this myself this time.” “You’re just a young woman,” Mr. Sterling sighed, his voice full of heartache. “What can you handle? Let Dad do it!” Lily’s tears flowed into her mouth. She tilted her head back, gasping for air like a fish out of water, trying to suppress her broken sobs. Mr. Sterling’s anxious voice came through the phone: “My girl, Dad’s here, don’t be scared. Dad will protect you! No matter what happens, you’ll always be Dad’s sweet girl, Dad’s good girl.” Lily was finally able to speak. “Dad, I’m okay. Your little girl has grown up; she can handle things herself now.” Mr. Sterling’s voice also choked up. “Good girl, Dad will listen to you. But if you need help, you *must* tell Dad. Don’t try to bear it alone, understand?” “Mmm,” Lily murmured. “The immigration application has been approved,” Mr. Sterling said, his voice thick. “The villa in Paris has been ready for a while. Come over quickly.” “Mmm,” Lily said, wiping away her tears with her sleeve.

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The day I was taken into the operating room, my family and boyfriend were all with my adoptive sister, watching her competition. That day, my surgery had complications. The tumor in my brain was removed, but my nerves were damaged. I lost the ability to feel emotions like a normal person. ****** I had a tumor in my brain. I initially wanted to tell my parents and boyfriend about it. But my parents were busy buying plane tickets to accompany my adoptive sister abroad for a dance competition. My boyfriend was also working overtime a lot lately. My finger hovered over the message for a long time before I chose to delete it. I knew that anything about me, even if I said it, wouldn’t matter to anyone. After all, in everyone’s eyes, my existence isn’t even a fraction as important as my adoptive sister’s.   My adoptive sister Rose is the daughter of Dad’s comrade. When she was six, a car accident unexpectedly took her parents’ lives. Rose was driven away and shunned by her relatives. She ended up dirty and wandering the streets until Dad, who came to pay his respects to an old friend, found her. From then on, she became the second daughter in our family. That year, I was ten, and Rose was six. Dad and Mom told me, “Crystal, you’re already a big kid. You need to learn to take care of your sister.” I wasn’t sure how to take care of a sister. All I knew was that Rose always seemed so fragile. She didn’t have to do anything but stand there and look at me with her tear-reddened eyes. Everything of mine would become hers. At ten, I lost my bedroom and moved into the guest room. At twelve, my piano lessons were canceled, and the piano at home was sold. The empty music room became Rose’s dance studio. After fifteen, I never wore new clothes again, always alternating between two school uniforms. My parents didn’t care. They dressed Rose beautifully and praised her looks to everyone they met. From that time, I rarely went home. The year I was about to graduate from college, Rose went to another city for university. My parents briefly remembered me. They often called to ask about my life, sometimes sending me job postings from my city. Raising a comrade’s orphan to college was Dad’s greatest achievement. He was in high spirits, saying he wanted to visit me in my city and help me see if my boyfriend of three years was reliable. I no longer had any expectations of them. But I still booked a hotel and restaurant for their visit, not expecting Rose to show up with them. That day, her smile was as pure as when she first came to our home. She smiled at my boyfriend like that all evening. Later, I saw Rose’s avatar pinned at the top of my boyfriend Tom’s Snapchat chat.

Before being taken into the operating room, I couldn’t hold back and called my parents. The call only lasted three seconds, with Mom and Dad’s anxious voices on the line: “Crystal, we’re about to board. Your sister’s competition is important. Whatever it is, wait until we get back.” I didn’t even manage to say a word before the call was cut off. I stared at my phone screen, dazed. Just then, I saw a new post from my boyfriend Tom. He said he was off to chase his dreams, with a picture of a plane ticket showing the country where Rose’s competition was. I stared at the screen until Aunt couldn’t stand it and took my phone away. ” Aunt has signed the consent form for you. Don’t worry, whatever happens, Aunt will take care of it,” she lovingly patted my head and sighed, “Brother has been foolish all these years, poor you… Go on, child, I’ll be waiting for you outside.” I was taken into the operating room as the anesthesia gradually took effect. Before losing consciousness, I couldn’t help but wonder if I died in this surgery, would my parents shed a tear for me? And Tom, I thought, once I come out, I must tell him. I knew he had changed his heart long ago. This time, I decided I don’t want him anymore.   The story of Tom and me wasn’t very dramatic, but back in college, it was well-regarded among teachers and classmates. The story started typically. The student council president, who had a great family background and looks, helped an exhausted logistics member who fainted from low blood sugar at an orientation event. The second time we met, he had two candies in his pocket just for me. From then on, keeping candies in his pocket for me became Tom’s habit. He saw me as fragile. He would always look at me worriedly and say, “Crystal, I’ve never been so afraid of losing someone.” He said I meant something different to him than anyone else. There was always a special place for me by his side. Just like he always had candies ready for me in his coat pocket. But the last time, after pulling two all-nighters for meetings, I reached into Tom’s coat pocket. All I found was a strange lipstick, Chanel silver tube 116, Rose’s favorite shade. Silently, I put the lipstick back in his pocket and learned to carry my own candies from then on.

My life changed drastically with ten as the dividing line. From ten, I was trying to get used to living without relying on anyone. I lowered my expectations of everyone. As long as I didn’t have expectations, I wouldn’t be disappointed, nor would I fall into despair when disappointments piled up. But after all, I’m human and can’t be as carefree as I imagined. Tom pursued me for a year and cared for me for the next three. In total, he spent four years gradually moving me, making me feel I had someone to rely on. But stories are always so cliché. Just when I thought I had found someone I could truly trust, he changed his heart. He fell for my adoptive sister. Initially, it was sympathy for her childhood background. Then it was her lively and charming personality, which deeply attracted his attention. Later, listening to Rose talk about her passion for dance and witnessing her excellence on stage, he realized his true feelings. Tom said he had never seen someone so special, as sincere as a flame. Because of her, he discovered that love should burn passionately. With me, it was more of a familial attachment and a habit in life. This was Tom’s drunken confession. After that, he started preparing to pursue Rose and break up with me. Of course, I was also preparing for the same thing. I would exit their world, just trying to do it as gracefully as possible. This was something I often did in the first twenty years of my life, getting used to being unnoticed and quietly stepping back. But these thoughts changed entirely the moment I opened my eyes after surgery. I realized it shouldn’t be me who steps back.   Aunt was the first to notice my change. She sat by my hospital bed, peeling an apple and sharing stories to comfort me. Then she realized I didn’t seem to need comforting. In her eyes, I was always quiet and rarely expressed my needs. But she could always see from my eyes that I still longed for my parents’ attention, for the complete family affection that should have been mine. But now, that longing was gone.

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