When Ethan came home after his night shift, I set his favorite pasta on the table.
I wanted to tell him that my mom had finally agreed to let us get married.
But he tossed his car keys on the table and said wearily, “I got married.”
“What?” I was confused.
“I married one of the new nurses. She’s pregnant. I have to take responsibility for her.”
My voice trembled.
“Then what were these eight years I spent with you?”
Ethan looked up at me and actually smiled.
“As long as you’re willing, we can still be family.”
I didn’t cry.
I just picked up that bowl of pasta, walked to the kitchen, and dumped it in the trash.
Ethan frowned.
“Sophia, I just worked an all-night shift. I hate it when you give me the silent treatment like this.”
I turned to look at him.
“When did you two get the marriage license?”
He rubbed his temples.
“Yesterday at noon.”
“Tara finished her night shift. City Hall wasn’t busy, so we just stopped by.”
Just stopped by.
Yesterday at noon, I was with my mom for her dialysis evaluation.
She lay in the hospital bed, gripping my hand, saying, “Sophia, I’ve thought it through. If you’re really set on Ethan, then marry him.”
I almost cried right then and immediately sent Ethan a message:
“My mom agreed to let us get married.”
He didn’t reply.
Turns out he was at City Hall taking wedding photos with another woman.
I asked, “Does she know about me?”
Ethan was silent for two seconds.
“Yes. She doesn’t mind. She’s young and insecure. She cried and said she didn’t want a wedding ceremony, just wanted to legally stand by my side.”
I laughed.
“Then after eight years with you, where am I supposed to stand?”
Ethan looked up at me.
“Sophia, you haven’t lost out these eight years. You’ve been living in my house rent-free.”
I finally understood.
His so-called compensation was letting me continue living here.
Continue cleaning up after him, continue taking care of him.
Just with my status changed from girlfriend to housekeeper.
I went into the bedroom to pack my things. When I opened the closet, my hand froze.
There was a row of unfamiliar women’s clothes inside.
Pink sweaters, dresses, a nurse’s jacket.
In the shoe cabinet was a pair of white sneakers.
On the bathroom counter was a new bottle of face wash.
On the nightstand was a thin hair tie.
I picked it up and asked him, “She’s moving in?”
Ethan stood in the doorway and said:
“Tara can’t sleep alone in the dorm.”
“So she’s sleeping in my bed from now on?”
I took off the ring he’d given me and placed it on the table.
It was a silver ring he’d bought the year he finished his hospital internship.
He said once he became a doctor, he’d replace it with a diamond ring.
Later, when he became a doctor, he said he’d buy me a ring after he bought a house.
But now, he was married.
I pulled out my suitcase.
Ethan suddenly panicked.
He wrapped his arms around me from behind.
“Sophia, I don’t want to lose you. I’m just settling Tara in first. She can’t live without me. You’re different. You’re mature. You understand me.”
Being held by him, I only felt nauseous.
The doorbell rang.
Tara stood at the door, her face small, her eyes red.
She was wearing a men’s jacket.
The one I’d waited in line for two hours to buy for Ethan last winter.
“Ethan, I came to get my marriage certificate.”
Then she looked at me and smiled. “Sophia, you’re here too.”
I said nothing.
She walked straight into the bedroom like she owned the place and opened my nightstand drawer.
The marriage certificate was pressed under an old photo album.
On top of the album was a letter.
A letter my mom had written to Ethan.
She’d just finished writing it yesterday and asked me to deliver it.
The first line on the paper read:
“Ethan, I’m entrusting Sophia to you from now on.”
Tara picked up the letter and blinked.
“Is this from your mom to you two? Sorry, should I not be reading this?”
I reached out to take it.
But Ethan grabbed it first.
A corner of the paper tore.
I watched him standing protectively in front of Tara and suddenly felt like this house was very unfamiliar.
I’d lived here for five years.
But now standing here, I felt like an outsider.
I forcibly snatched the letter back.
Tara hid behind Ethan.
Ethan’s face darkened.
“Sophia, you’re emotionally unstable right now. Don’t go to the hospital tomorrow.”
I looked at him.
“I’m the head of the lab department. I don’t answer to emergency room doctors.”
Tara’s tears fell instantly.
“Sophia, I really didn’t mean to take what’s yours. I just love Ethan too much.”
I laughed out loud.
“Well, you sure know how to loveāyou loved your way right into someone else’s home.”
Ethan lowered his voice.
“Don’t be so harsh.”
My phone rang.
It was the dialysis center.
“Ms. Walker, your mother is experiencing sudden chest tightness and unstable blood pressure. Please come immediately.”
I grabbed my bag and left.
Ethan instinctively followed.
My heart actually relaxed for a moment.
The next second, Tara clutched her stomach and crouched down.
“Ethan, I’m dizzy…”
“I didn’t eat last night. It might be low blood sugar.”
Ethan stopped in his tracks.
He glanced at me.
“You take a cab first.”
“I’ll take her to the ER. I’ll be right there.”
I said nothing.
As the elevator doors closed, I saw him pick Tara up in his arms.
In the taxi, I called him three times.
No one answered.
At the hospital, my mom’s face was ashen.
A nurse pushed a risk disclosure form in front of me.
“Sign this. She might need emergency dialysis or even resuscitation.”
My hand shook so much I couldn’t write my name.
For eight years, Ethan always said, “Your mom is my mom from now on.”
He said I didn’t need to be afraid.
He said he’d handle everything at the hospital.
But when the day finally came, I was the one signing.
Outside the emergency room, I opened my phone.
The first post on my feed was from Ethan.
In the photo, he and Tara were holding up their marriage certificate.
Caption: For the rest of our lives, please take care of me.
Posted at the exact time I made my third call.
A bunch of ER colleagues had liked it.
Tara replied: “Thank you everyone! Ethan says he’s treating everyone to a big dinner tonight.”
I stared at those words as my palms slowly went cold.
When my mom woke up, her first words were, “Where’s Ethan?”
I pressed my phone against my palm.
“He’s treating a critical patient.”
“Doctors are busy. I understand.”
The family member from the next bed suddenly leaned over.
“Isn’t your son-in-law Dr. Hayes? He got married, but the bride isn’t your daughter?”
She shoved her phone in front of my mom’s face.
I couldn’t stop her in time.
My mom saw the photo and her breathing suddenly became rapid.
The monitor immediately started beeping.
I rushed out to call a doctor.
Running to the nurses’ station, I saw Ethan.
He was holding Tara’s hand, handing out wedding invitations to the ER staff.
Someone teased, “Dr. Hayes, you kept this well hidden.”
Tara blushed and leaned against him.
Ethan saw me and frowned.
His first words were:
“How did you upset your mom like this?”
I stood there, still clutching my mom’s critical condition notice in my hand.
I threw the report in his face.
“Ethan Hayes, where do you get the nerve?”
The ER fell silent.
Tara’s tears fell again.
She said softly, “Sophia, don’t blame Ethan. It’s my fault.”
Ethan pulled her behind him.
“This is a hospital. Don’t make a scene.”
I looked at the invitation in his hand and suddenly found it hilarious.
I didn’t make a scene.
I just asked him in front of everyone:
“What right do you have to blame me?”
No one in the ER said a word.
Tara leaned against Ethan, crying softly.
Ethan lowered his voice.
“Sophia, don’t interfere with work.”
“You’re the one interfering with work.”
“My mom is in the observation room, and you’re here celebrating your marriage.”
Someone looked down, pretending to organize charts.
Tara suddenly covered her mouth.
“I feel sick…”
The ER colleagues immediately started making noise.
“Just got married and already pregnant? Dr. Hayes works fast.”
Ethan’s expression changed.
He immediately helped Tara up.
“Let’s draw blood first and check.”
My mom was still in the observation room.
But he stayed by Tara’s side every step of the way for the blood draw.
I stood at the lab window and watched him personally label the blood collection tubes.
His movements were carefully precise and piercing to watch.
She touched her belly, lowering her head with a smile.
“I hope the baby grows up healthy.”
Ethan said in front of his colleagues:
“Once we have a child, I’ll give you a proper home.”
I thought that sentence had nothing to do with me.
Until that evening, when I returned to that house and saw an agreement on the table.
Housing Arrangement Agreement.
It stated:
To facilitate Tara’s pregnancy, Sophia voluntarily moves out of the master bedroom.
Holding the paper, I laughed for a long time.
The down payment for that house was two hundred thousand dollarsāmoney I paid.
The renovation costsāI charged to my credit card.
For years, I’d transferred three thousand dollars to Ethan every month for the mortgage.
Only his name was on the deed.
Because he said doctors could get loans more easily.
He said, “Sophia, there’s no yours and mine between us.”
Now he was making it very clear.
The master bedroom for Tara.
I even had to give up my bed.
I asked, “What does this agreement mean?”
Ethan sat on the couch.
“Tara is pregnant. The master bedroom gets better sunlight. It’s better for the pregnancy.”
I spread the agreement in front of him.
“What about my two hundred thousand?”
“What about the mortgage payments?”
He frowned.
“Eight years together, don’t make it sound so ugly.”
Tara came out of the kitchen with a glass of water.
She was wearing an apron, looking like the lady of the house.
“Sophia, don’t worry. I won’t live here for free.”
“I’ll give you eight hundred a month. Is that okay?”
I almost laughed in disbelief.
“Eight hundred?”
“Are you joking?”
I picked up the agreement and tore it up.
Ethan suddenly grabbed my wrist.
“If you keep this up, I’ll have to transfer your mom to a regular ward first.”
I looked up at him.
He continued:
“And the dialysis scheduling doesn’t have to go through me either.”
The room was very quiet.
Tara stopped crying.
She stood behind Ethan, looking down at me.
Her expression was obedient.
And also smug.
I slowly pulled my hand away.
“Ethan Hayes, you’re threatening me with my mom’s life?”
He avoided my gaze.
“I just hope you’ll calm down.”
I nodded.
“Fine.”
“I’ll calm down enough to make you regret this.”
The next day, I went to the lab department as usual.
The first thing I did when I entered the office was export all the transfer records I’d made to Ethan over the years.
Including the expenses I’d covered when his father was hospitalized.
And the chat records showing he’d been managing my mom’s medical files.
I uploaded them all to the cloud, one by one.
Ethan sent me a message.
“Don’t make this bigger. Let’s talk tonight when you get home.”
I didn’t reply.
At ten in the morning, Tara came to the lab window.
She handed me a blood test order.
“Sophia, I’m pregnant. Can you expedite it for me?”
The office instantly went quiet.
I followed protocol and said, “Register, pay, and wait in line.”
Tara’s eyes reddened.
“Are you still mad at me?”
I pushed the order back.
“This is a hospital, not your living room.”
She bit her lip and left.
To avoid any conflict of interest, I personally handed the sample to a colleague for processing and recorded everything.
At noon, the results came out.
She wasn’t pregnant at all!
Tara looked at the results and her face changed completely.
Half an hour later, word came from the ER.
Tara had abdominal pain and bleeding between her legsāsuspected miscarriage.
Tara appeared, supported by a nurse.
Her face was pale, her hand covering her stomach.
“Sophia, you can hate me. But the baby is innocent.”
My colleagues looked at me differently.
The director came over too.
“Sophia, suspend your work for now and cooperate with the investigation.”
I said, “Check the surveillance and the records.”
Ethan interrupted me.
“Tara miscarried because she was traumatized.”
I looked at him:
“How can someone who isn’t pregnant have a miscarriage?”
Tara cried, trembling.
Ethan threw a stack of documents in front of me.
The papers scattered.
They were notices about my mom’s dialysis deposit and bed adjustment applications.
He looked at me coldly.
“Kneel and apologize to Tara right now. I’ll make sure your mom can use the machine tonight.”
Everyone in the department was watching me.
My professional reputation.
My mom’s life.
My eight years of devotion.
He compressed it all into one apology.
I bent down to pick up the documents.
At the bottom was a test order from another hospital.
Tara had it done last week.
It stated:
No evidence of pregnancy.
I looked up at him.
His face finally showed panic.
Tara screamed, “That’s not mine!”
The next second, the director’s office door was pushed open.
Someone from the hospital’s disciplinary office stood in the doorway.
“Sophia Walker, regarding your suspected tampering with lab reports, please immediately accept suspension pending investigation.”
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On my wedding night, I caught my good friend Judson and my wife Doman in bed together.
Crying, they claimed they were drunk and confused. They knelt at my door for three days and three nights.
When they saw I was determined to divorce, Doman slit her wrists, and Judson got a vasectomy.
Under the repeated persuasion of friends and family, I eventually softened.
For seven years, she was gentle and considerate. Everyone praised her for knowing her mistake and reforming.
Until my father-in-law Andrew’s birthday, when my six-year-old sister-in-law hugged Doman’s leg and asked:
“Where’s my daddy?”
I smiled and pointed at Andrew behind me:
“Jones, your dad is right there, isn’t he?”
Jones turned her head and said crisply:
“I’m talking about my real daddy.”
I froze and looked awkwardly at Doman.
Her expression remained calm as she looked up at me and said:
“Samuel, there’s something I never told you.
Actually, Jones isn’t my parents’ child. She’s mine and Judson’s daughter.”
I heard her words and froze in place.
My brain felt like someone had punched it hard. It was buzzing.
“What did you say?”
My voice was trembling, full of disbelief.
Doman put Jones down and patted her back:
“Be good, go to Grandma.”
Jones bounced over to my mother-in-law Eve. Eve scooped her up, her eyes darting away, not daring to look at me.
Doman turned around, her expression so calm it was chilling.
“Jones is mine and Judson’s child.
Judson got a vasectomy. He’ll never have children in this lifetime, so I gave birth to her.”
She paused, looking at Jones who was playing with Eve’s hair, her tone as casual as discussing what to eat today.
“I originally planned to keep it from you for life.”
I staggered back a step, grabbing the dining table behind me to keep from falling.
“Then you… why are you telling me now?”
My throat felt like it had been scraped with sandpaper. Every word tasted of blood.
Before Doman could speak, Andrew stood up.
He looked at me, his voice heavy:
“It was my idea.”
I jerked my head up to look at him.
“Jones is already six years old. Your mom and I are getting old. We can’t raise a child properly.”
“We don’t want to keep making this mistake!”
My chest felt like someone was squeezing it. I couldn’t breathe.
Eve suddenly put Jones down and pushed her toward the bedroom:
“Jones, be good, go play inside. I’ll come keep you company in a bit.”
When the bedroom door closed, she turned around. The expression on her face had completely changed.
“Samuel, don’t blame Doman. If you hadn’t insisted on divorce back then, Judson wouldn’t have gotten a vasectomy. We were the ones who told Doman to give birth.”
She paused, her tone self-righteous:
“Judson is our adopted son. We had to leave him an heir!”
My brain went blank.
Doman had said back then that Eve had a late-life pregnancy and was afraid of gossip, so she went to Europe to give birth. Doman went along to take care of her for a whole year.
I thought she was being filial.
It turned out it wasn’t Eve having a baby. It was her having a baby.
I raised my head and looked at Doman. This woman I had loved for ten years.
We met in college and married after graduation. I thought we were a perfect match.
But on our wedding night, she rolled into bed with her adoptive brother, my best friend.
I asked for a divorce. She knelt on the ground begging, her forehead hitting the floor with loud thuds.
Judson knelt beside her, a grown man trembling and crying.
Seeing I wouldn’t compromise, the next day, she slit her wrists.
When I rushed to the hospital, she lay in the bed, pale as paper, but gripping my hand tightly.
“Samuel, I was wrong… please don’t divorce me…”
“Without you, I’ll really die…”
I softened.
Judson also got a vasectomy that same day, saying he would spend the rest of his life atoning.
Everyone urged me:
“She slit her wrists, he got a vasectomy. What more do you want?”
I thought about it for a whole month, convincing myself to forgive her, convincing myself to forget that night, convincing myself to love her again.
I did it.
For seven years, I forgot about that incident and treated her sincerely.
I thought she had really changed. But now it seemed, all of this was just a joke!
After a long silence, I raised my head and stared coldly at Doman, saying word by word:
“Doman, let’s get divorced.”
My voice was so soft I could barely hear it myself.
When the words fell, Andrew and Eve’s expressions changed completely.
Doman also froze, her brows furrowing tighter.
“Over such a small matter?”
She turned her head, impatience in her tone.
I laughed, laughed until my eyes stung.
“Small matter?”
“Doman, you had someone else’s child and raised her right under my nose. That’s a small matter?”
She sighed, turned to look at me, her eyes calm.
“Samuel.”
She placed her hand on her lower abdomen.
“I’m pregnant.”
“Are you sure you want to divorce me?”
I froze at her words.
“What did you say?”
Doman removed her hand from her abdomen and looked up at me, her eyes as calm as a stagnant pool.
“Your dad has late-stage liver cancer. He doesn’t have much time left.”
“Before he dies, doesn’t he just want to see you have a child?”
I felt like all the strength had been drained from my body.
These past seven years, I had mentioned having a child to Doman countless times.
The first year, she said her career was just starting, to wait a bit longer.
The second year, she said she wanted to enjoy our two-person world for a few more years.
The third and fourth years, she always said she was busy, always said there was no rush.
I thought she didn’t want children.
I thought she was really planning for our future.
But now, she was using a child as leverage to threaten me.
In my mind, I saw my father in his hospital bed.
When I visited him last week, he was so thin he was unrecognizable, yet he still held my hand and smiled.
“Samuel, I don’t have many regrets in this life. I just want to see you have a child.”
“You and Doman have been together seven years. It’s time to have a child.”
I kept my head down, unable to speak.
He patted my hand, smiling with expectation.
“It’s okay, I can still hold on. I can still help you take care of the baby.”
I closed my eyes and clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms.
Eve came over, her tone softening.
“Samuel, you and Doman have been together so many years. Can you really bear to divorce?”
Andrew also walked over, his head down as he said in a muffled voice:
“Doman did wrong in this matter, but these years… how she’s treated you, you know in your heart.”
“For the child’s sake, both of you back down a bit.”
I opened my eyes suddenly, a bitter smile pulling at the corner of my mouth.
Had Doman treated me well?
Yes. After that incident, she was attentive to me in every way.
Every morning when I opened my eyes, there was always a pressed shirt at the bedside.
Whatever I liked to eat, she learned to make it at home. No matter how troublesome, she was willing to learn.
When I worked overtime until late at night, she always left a light on, with soup warming in the pot.
When I had a fever and was hospitalized, she stayed by my bed for three days and nights without closing her eyes.
Everyone said I was lucky.
“Your wife treats you so well. I’ve never seen anyone so considerate.”
“You two are such a perfect match. You’ll definitely grow old together.”
Even Andrew and Eve, because of that incident back then, were especially good to me.
During holidays, Andrew personally cooked my favorite dishes.
When my parents visited, Eve would accompany them shopping all day without complaining.
I thought she had really changed.
I thought the woman who knelt before me and slit her wrists was really spending the rest of her life in repentance.
But it turned out all of this was just an act performed for me.
I raised my head and looked at the three people in front of me, saying hoarsely:
“So, what do you want me to do?”
“Just acknowledge this child?”
As soon as I finished speaking, Doman pulled out a document from her bag and handed it to me.
“This is a property division agreement.”
I looked down. The content was painfully glaring.
It stated that no matter how many children Doman and I had in the future, 70% of the family assets would belong to Jones.
Including the old house my dad left me.
I was stunned and looked up at her in disbelief:
“You want me to leave most of my assets to your illegitimate daughter?”
Doman showed no guilt. She looked at me with complete self-righteousness.
“Samuel, you don’t like Jones. In the future, you definitely won’t be able to treat both children equally.”
“I’m just fighting for a bit more for Jones. Is that wrong?”
“I just want to give my child security.”
I opened my mouth but couldn’t speak for a moment. I just felt it was ridiculous.
She wanted to give her child security, so she had to sacrifice my interests and my child’s interests?
Why should I?
I was about to argue when the doorbell suddenly rang.
Eve walked over to open the door.
Standing outside was a man in casual clothes, with a faint smile on his face:
“I’m back.”
Judson’s voice carried into the living room. Everyone froze.
Andrew and Eve’s faces first flashed with disbelief, then were overtaken by enormous joy.
“Judson? Really?”
Doman was even more excited, her eyes reddening. She unconsciously walked a few steps toward the door.
Judson entered, first holding Eve’s hand and saying gently:
“Mom, I’m back.”
His gaze swept across the room. When he saw me, the smile at the corner of his mouth stiffened.
“Samuel, you’re here too.”
I forced out a smile that looked worse than crying.
Seven years. Judson seemed not to have changed at all, except for a bit more gentleness in his expression.
Did he know Doman had given birth to his child?
Just as I was thinking this, the bedroom door suddenly pushed open.
Jones, hearing the sound, ran out.
The moment she saw Judson, her eyes lit up. Like a little butterfly, she flew into his arms.
“Daddy! You’re finally here! I missed you so much!”
Judson quickly held the child in his arms, the affection in his eyes overflowing.
“I missed you too.”
Jones wrapped her arms around his neck and looked at Doman, saying in a sweet voice:
“Mommy missed you too. She looks at your photos every day.”
Hearing this, Judson looked up at Doman, his gaze tender as water.
Watching their happy family of three, I felt cold all over. Finally, I just laughed in anger.
So they had known all along.
Only I, like a fool, had been kept in the dark for seven whole years.
I looked at Judson, my voice cold as ice.
“Don’t you owe me an explanation?”
I stared at him hard, asking word by word:
“Didn’t you say you would never appear in front of me again?”
As soon as I finished speaking, the smile on Judson’s face froze.
He handed the child to Eve and looked at me, struggling to speak:
“Samuel, I’m sorry, I…”
“Enough!”
Before he could finish, Doman sharply interrupted.
She quickly walked to Judson’s side and glared at me:
“Samuel, Judson finally came back. Are you going to drive him away again?!”
Andrew and Eve also snapped out of it and immediately glowered at me.
“Samuel, Judson has been gone for seven years. What more do you want?”
“Exactly! This is our home. If anyone should leave, it’s you!”
Jones also broke free from Eve’s embrace, rushed over, and pushed me hard, screaming:
“You’re a bad person! Don’t bully my daddy!”
I looked at their united front, looked at Doman’s undisguised disgust toward me. The last trace of warmth in my heart was completely crushed.
“Fine, fine… I’ll leave!”
Eyes red, I slammed the door and left.
Leaving Andrew’s house, I drove toward the hospital.
While waiting at a red light, I scrolled to Doman’s Twitter. It was a photo of their family of three.
Judson holding Jones, Doman leaning against him, smiling radiantly.
The caption read: [A happy family]
I laughed, liked it, and left a comment under that post:
[Brother becomes lover, sister becomes daughter. Quite happy indeed.]
Less than a minute after posting the comment, Doman’s call came through.
As soon as I answered, her angry accusations came pouring out:
“Samuel, what do you mean?! Delete that comment right now!”
I laughed coldly:
“Isn’t what I said the truth?”
“You!” She was furious. “Fine! You’ll regret this!”
With that, she hung up.
I tossed my phone to the passenger seat and floored the gas pedal.
When I reached the hospital and went upstairs, I saw several nurses rushing a hospital bed toward the emergency room.
And lying on the bed was my dad.
I froze, my brain going blank.
After coming to my senses, I frantically called Doman.
“What did you do?!”
On the other end of the phone, her voice was cold and vicious.
“What did I do?”
“I just called your dad and told him I was going to abort the child in my belly!”
“That the Simon family will be without descendants forever!!!”
I was so angry my whole body shook. I roared into the phone:
“Doman, are you insane! Don’t you know my dad is sick? Don’t you know he can’t handle shock?”
“Get over here right now! Come tell my dad you were joking!”
Doman laughed coldly:
“Who told you to post that stuff on Twitter? Do you know how upset Judson was when he saw it?”
“Do you know how much determination it took for him to come back?!”
“Samuel, this is the price of speaking carelessly!”
With that, she hung up directly.
After that, no matter how many times I called, no one answered.
Twenty minutes later, the light in the emergency room went out.
The doctor came out, removed his mask, and shook his head at me.
“There’s not much time left. Go in and see him.”
All the strength in my body seemed to drain away. I staggered into the room and held my dad’s icy cold hand.
He could no longer speak. He just looked at me weakly, his lips moving slightly.
I understood from his lip movements.
“Doman… child…”
Tears burst from my eyes. I choked out:
“Dad, don’t worry, the child is still there!”
“She’s just mad at me, talking nonsense. Don’t take it seriously.”
In my dad’s cloudy eyes, there seemed to be a glimmer of light.
He struggled, as if wanting to say something.
I leaned my ear closer and heard him use his last bit of strength to say:
“Want… to see… Doman… and the child…”
He wanted to see Doman. He wanted to see that unborn child.
“Okay, okay, I’ll call her. I’ll call her right now!”
With trembling hands, I took out my phone and called Doman’s number over and over, called Andrew’s house… all went unanswered.
“Dad, wait, she’ll come soon, very soon…”
I held my father’s increasingly cold hand, tears falling in large drops onto the back of his hand.
I kept calling and texting, but there was never a response.
My dad kept looking toward the doorway, the light in his eyes dimming bit by bit, little by little.
Finally, I could only watch as my dad’s hand slowly dropped, watch as the line representing his heartbeat on the monitor became a flat line.
“Dadāā!!!”
I knelt by the hospital bed, letting out a beast-like wail.
Over the next few days, I handled my father’s funeral arrangements alone, without notifying anyone from Doman’s family.
It wasn’t until a week later that my phone screen lit up. It was a message from Doman.
[Tomorrow my parents are throwing a welcome party for Judson and announcing Jones’s identity. We’ll say Jones is our child to outsiders!]
I looked at the words on the screen, expressionless.
Seeing I didn’t reply, she sent a few more messages.
[Alright, I know you’re still angry.]
[Don’t worry, after the party ends, I’ll go with you to see Dad.]
[We’ll bring Jones too, to make him happy.]
[Remember to come tomorrow!]
Seeing her mention my dad, a cold smile pulled at the corner of my mouth.
I picked up my phone and replied with three words:
[Got it.]
After sending the message, I looked at the document envelope on the table.
Doman, don’t worry.
Not only will I come, I’ll prepare an unforgettable gift for all of you.
The next afternoon, I appeared at the party on time.
The hotel banquet hall was crowded. All the guests were relatives and friends from Doman’s side.
Andrew and Eve stood on stage, beaming.
“We’ve invited everyone here today to announce some great news!”
“Our adopted son Judson, after working overseas for seven years, has finally come home!”
Thunderous applause erupted below.
Judson stood to the side in a sharp suit, smiling and nodding.
Finally, Doman led Jones onto the stage.
She took the microphone, smiling gently and gracefully.
“There’s one more thing we want to share with everyone. Actually, Jones is mine and Samuel’s daughter.”
She followed yesterday’s script, relating Jones’s “background” in detail. Finally, she looked at me with deep affection and said softly:
“Now, let my husband, Samuel, say a few words too!”
I was about to stand when Eve leaned close to my ear and whispered threateningly:
“Don’t say anything crazy up there, or you’ll regret it!”
I smiled, picked up the document envelope, and walked onto the stage. I took the microphone from Doman’s hand.
Facing the crowd below, I said clearly, word by word:
“Thank you all for coming today to attend mine and Doman’sādivorce party.”
As soon as those words left my mouth, the entire room fell deathly silent.
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On the fifth day of my husband Owen’s business trip, his cousin Louise suddenly sent me a message.
“Bruna, I saw the obituary Owen posted on Ins.
I’m in postpartum confinement right now, so I can’t make it to your father’s funeral. Don’t be too sad. Take care of yourself and the baby.”
My whole body froze.
My dad was perfectly fine. What funeral?
Also, Owen and I were childfreeāwhere did this baby come from?
I suppressed my inner unease and gave her a brief reply.
Then I used a burner account, pretending to be his relative, and added Owen on Ins. Sure enough, I saw that obituary!
I immediately drove three hours to the funeral venue.
In the solemn funeral hall, I met Owen’s other “wife” from his Ins.
She looked at me with red-rimmed eyes, her voice choked with emotion:
“You must be Owen’s relative, right? Thank you so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to attend my father’s funeral.”
My heart surged with shock as I carefully examined the woman before me.
She wore an expensive black dress and only light makeup, yet it was clear she was extremely well-maintained.
I tried to calm myself down, but my voice still trembled uncontrollably:
“Where’s Owen?”
“He’s…”
“Mommy!”
Before Emily could finish, a five or six-year-old boy rushed right over to her.
My breath caught.
That face was like a miniature version of Owen.
Counting the time, I’d been married for five years.
That meant Owen had been juggling two women at almost the same time.
So, did she know about my existence?
Between her and me, who was the mistress?
After our marriage, Owen said he was afraid I’d work too hard, so he wanted us to be childfree.
His family never gave me trouble over this even once.
I’d always been touched by his thoughtfulness.
Never did I imagine the truth was that he’d had a son with another woman!
Emily crouched down and ruffled the child’s hair.
A smile appeared on her pale face:
“Jimmy, be good. I still have things to do. Go find Grandma.”
My heart jolted. Mother-in-law Antonelli actually knew about all this!
The boy nodded obediently and ran to an old lady.
That was none other than Antonelli, who had been “bedridden with chronic illness.”
Right now, she was holding her grandson and walking as spryly as could be.
In my memory, from the first time I met Antonelli, she’d been sickly.
Every day she took more pills than she ate food, and year-round she was practically a hospital regular.
The reimbursement receipts Owen submitted piled up like a small mountain.
My expression darkened, my voice trembling as I probed with a remark:
“The old lady seems really healthy.”
Emily didn’t notice my abnormal reaction. She sighed, her words carrying gratitude:
“Yes, Antonelli loves me like her own daughter. She raised the child.”
“I don’t work, and she gives me $20,000 in living expenses every month.”
My heart clenched violently, and a suffocating feeling instantly enveloped my entire body.
Owen lived with my family.
Shortly after our marriage, he’d had surgery for a severe herniated disc.
Since then, he’d been unemployed at home, responsible for taking care of household meals and chores.
To support the family, I threw myself into business trips and overtime.
I worked my way up from director to CEO, and naturally my salary rose accordingly.
My father-in-law passed away early, and Owen had depended on Antonelli.
To put his mind at ease, I’d suggested several times that we bring Antonelli to live with us, but he’d refused with various excuses.
So I transferred $22,000 to Antonelli every month for medical and living expenses.
It turned out this mother-son pair had been using it all to support his mistress and bastard child!
There were quite a few guests at the wake.
Emily didn’t notice my emotional state and brought me over to Owen’s relatives.
I looked at these people’s facesāeach one more unfamiliar than the last.
Yet they all acted very familiar with Emily.
“Emily, you’re the apple of Owen’s eye.”
“For him and the child, you must take care of yourself.”
Emily smiled bitterly, her left hand moving to her lower abdomen.
“Don’t worry, I will.”
They even had a second child on the way! I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms, yet I felt no pain.
Using the excuse that his hometown was too far, Owen had even kept our wedding simple.
After marriage, I’d never heard of him keeping in touch with any relatives.
I’d had my doubts.
But he would sigh heavily and say that after his father died early, those relatives bullied him and his mother.
Naturally, there wasn’t much point in keeping in touch.
Only now did I understandāthese relatives weren’t avoiding contact with him.
They were just avoiding contact with me!
In their eyes, they only recognized Emily as Owen’s wife.
Owen, what kind of enormous trap did you set for me?!
The relatives around them kept praising Emily:
“Owen is really good to you. I heard he claimed to be taking leave for surgery, but actually came home to keep you company. What a good man!”
“Such strong work capability, always the top salesperson, and he hands over all his money, even has to report his pocket money to you.”
“You don’t know how much we all envy you.”
Emily’s face flushed, happiness practically overflowing from her eyes.
“I’ve told him too that he needs to spend money when he’s out, and doesn’t need to be so hard on himself.”
“But he cares about me, says he’s afraid I won’t feel secure, and he’s willing to let me manage things.”
Only then did I realizeāthe surgery, being unemployedāit was all fake!
“I heard Owen is about to be promoted to director, right?”
“He’s so capable, he’ll definitely treat his wife even better in the future.”
My heart jolted again.
Director? How utterly ridiculous!
Owen had a job, and I didn’t know.
He had such a high salary, yet still felt entitled to spend my earnings.
I’d never even seen him bring home a single penny!
In reality, he’d given it all to another woman, supporting another household!
Emily’s tone was gentle as she continued:
“Owen is the best person I’ve ever met. Being able to marry him is the greatest blessing of my life.”
“When he heard something happened to my dad, he rushed over immediately and arranged this entire funeral.”
A few days ago, Owen had looked flustered, saying he needed to accompany a newly employed friend on a business trip.
In reality, he came to be this woman’s support.
And I’d thought he was being loyal to his friends.
Turns out, the clown was me all along.
“Not only that, everyone knows he’s afraid you’ll get tired, so he even hired a housekeeper for you.”
“Emily, look how well-maintained you are, like a girl in her early twenties. You don’t look like a mother at all.”
I thought of looking in the mirror before leavingāthe exhausted face staring back at me.
I was only thirty, but excessive overtime and running myself ragged for our small household had left me haggard.
Yet the woman before me had clear eyes, unburdened by daily necessities.
All because she had an Owen who loved her to the bone. But I didn’t.
Emily’s eyes curved into crescents, the grief from our first meeting already more than half gone.
“What touches me most is how good he is to my parentsāso much better than me, their own daughter.”
“He visits them every week, bringing all kinds of nutritional supplements. Each time he also transfers tens of thousands to them.”
Perhaps mentioning her late father, Emily couldn’t help but shed two more tears.
Because my dad was rather domineering, he disagreed with Owen and me being together from the start.
I was blind, insisting I had to marry him.
After marriage, to protect his pitiful little ego.
I resolutely moved out of my villa and bought a small two-bedroom to have our own little world.
Though it wasn’t far from my dad’s house, I rarely went back because of work.
Owen would only visit my dad during holidays, going through the motions perfunctorily.
It seemed cold, yet I couldn’t pick out any specific faults.
He spent four days almost every week visiting his “sick” mother Antonelli.
In reality, he came here to reunite with Emily’s family.
He even used the William family’s money to give to his “in-laws” here.
What a “good son-in-law”!
Owen called Emily:
“Honey, I’ve bought everything needed for the burial.”
“Don’t worry, everything for our dad is absolutely the best.”
“Stop crying so much. You need to take care of your health. Our family will depend on you from now on.”
Emily was moved to tears:
“Owen, you’re the one who works hardest for our family.”
“Don’t rush. There’s still time. Drive carefully and stay safe.”
After hanging up, an old lady in a wheelchair came to Emily’s side.
“Emily, where’s Owen?”
Emily wiped away her tears and forced a smile.
“Mom, he’ll be home soon.”
She looked at me again.
“I still have things to attend to. Could you help look after my mom?”
With that, she turned to greet other newly arrived guests.
Emily’s mother Laura sighed softly:
“Emily’s father passed away suddenly. Owen prepared this wheelchair for me, afraid I’d be overcome with grief.”
“He means well, so I can’t refuse this kindness.”
Mentioning Owen, Laura’s face filled with pride.
My heart had already gone numb with pain.
Inadvertently, I caught sight of the gold earrings on Laura’s earsāthey were my mother’s heirlooms!
I thought I was seeing things, so I leaned closer to confirm several times.
Both earrings had scratches I’d accidentally made as a mischievous child.
In exactly the same positions!
I was certaināthese were my mother’s belongings!
Inner fury surged up, rushing straight to my head.
I reached out my hand, wanting nothing more than to rip them off right now and burn all bridges!
But ultimately reason prevailed over impulse, and I didn’t do it!
I did want to blow up this scene, but not to become a laughingstock!
Making a scene like that would only make people think I was crazy.
That would be too easy on Owen and this family.
I retracted my hand frozen in midair. Laura asked me:
“Are you married?”
I tried to keep my tone steady: “Yes.”
“How does your husband treat you?”
“He cheated on me, wouldn’t let me have children, but secretly had a bastard with some tramp.
He even used my family’s money to support that household.”
Laura was slightly stunned, seemingly not expecting me to say such things, then anger appeared on her face.
“Disgusting! That man is absolute trash, and that mistress and her family are no good either.”
Her words actually carried some indignation on my behalf.
“People like that belong in hell.”
“You can’t let them off easy, or they’ll think you’re a pushover.”
Coincidentally, that’s exactly what I was thinking.
Just then, Owen called me, his tone urgent:
“Bruna, something happened with my friend.”
“I urgently need fifty thousand dollars. Transfer it to me quickly!”
My hand holding the phone kept trembling. I suppressed my rage and asked back:
“What happened?”
“Did someone in the family die?”
Owen was stunned, seemingly not expecting me, who usually supported him unconditionally, to say such a thing:
“Why are you talking like that?”
“Is that harsh?”
“What do I care about their business?”
“Figure it out yourselves!”
After hanging up, within seconds, a new message from Owen came through.
[You usually act so understanding, but you’re actually this heartless.]
[Bruna William, don’t regret this!]
The next second, Emily’s phone chimed with a new message, and she walked over to Laura.
“Mom, Owen says he bought you some jewelry.”
Laura smiled and said, “That boy, so extravagant.”
While looking at the images Emily passed her on the phone.
When I saw that jewelry, I completely froze on the spot.
They were all my mother’s heirlooms!
I finally understood what he meant by telling me not to regret it.
This man wasn’t satisfied with just giving away the earringsāhe had to go this far!
It truly refreshed my understanding of him once again.
How could someone be so shameless?!
“Mom, Owen says it’s only right to be filial to you.”
“He also says after Dad’s funeral is over, he’ll take a few days off work to take you out to relax.”
“Even if just for us, you must take care of your health.”
Emily’s voice trembled, tears instantly welling up.
Laura’s eyes filled with tears as she gripped Emily’s hand and nodded firmly.
Seeing this scene, my emotions were incredibly complex.
A loving mother and filial daughter, a harmonious family.
Without all this mess, I might have admired them like everyone else.
But all these happy scenes were built on trampling the happiness of me and my entire family!
Emily gracefully attended to the guests like a competent hostess.
Laura in front of me sighed deeply again, as if talking to me, yet also to herself:
“Owen even suggested bringing me to live at his place.”
She pulled out a grayscale photo of her late husband from her pocket.
She touched the smiling face in the photo, a tear falling.
“Owen is a good man who knows how to care for people.”
“Emily is with him, so you can rest in peace.”
“Even I can close my eyes without worry now.”
I instinctively clenched my fists, my brows furrowing.
My heart felt like it was being stirred by something, unbearably painful.
But whatever is owed must be repaid, no matter who it is, right?
Images suddenly flashed through my mind.
When Mom was critically ill, I knelt crying by her bed, hands trembling as I accepted the jewelry box.
Mom said this was my dowry, and also a safeguard in marriage.
Dad had a huge fight with me, determined to stop me from marrying beneath myself to Owen.
When he learned I’d gotten married, he fell ill from anger.
But he still offered me an olive branch first, telling me if I ever suffered any grievance, he would always be my support.
In a trance, I seemed to see myself again, working late at the office that night.
My heart full of expectations for a happy marriage.
Now, the dream was completely shattered.
I couldn’t help clutching the pregnancy test in my bagāone I’d stroked so many times it was creased.
It read: Pregnant, eight weeks.
I’d planned to tell Owen this good news when he returned from his business trip.
But sadly…
“Emily, I’m here.” Owen’s shout brought me back from my thoughts.
I saw him gently embrace Emily, coaxing her like a child, wiping the tears from her eyes.
I’d never seen such deep affection in his eyes.
I was also hearing that tender tone for the first time.
“Don’t be afraid, I’m here for everything.”
I never knew he had such a responsible side.
As for the other secrets he was hiding, I had no interest in knowing anymore.
Watching the two of them openly display their affection, my heart felt no ripples.
Turns out when anger reaches its extreme, it becomes abnormally calm.
“By the way, where’s your mom?”
“One of your relatives is looking after her.”
Owen let out a long breath and nodded.
“Then we should really thank them.”
With that, his gaze pierced through the crowd and landed on a familiar figure.
And I walked up to the podium and picked up the microphone:
“Owen, my husband. How are you going to thank me?”
The entire funeral hall instantly fell dead silent.
His heart skipped a beat. Owen looked up in utter shock.
When his eyes met mine, his pupils contracted and all color drained from his face.
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I’d been with Ethan for seven years before my mom finally agreed to meet him.
At dinner, the moment my mom raised her cup, Ethan’s phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and gave my mom an apologetic smile. “Just a moment, I need to take this call.”
That moment turned into forty minutes.
The food on the table had long since gone cold.
When he came back, his jacket reeked of women’s perfume.
My mom said nothing. She just looked at me. The disappointment in her eyes hurt more than any words of blame ever could.
Ethan sat down beside me and ruffled my hair.
“Sorry about that. Had a last-minute issue with a project.”
I forced a smile.
A few days later, I got my marriage certificate. Only the groom wasn’t him.
When my mom left the restaurant, her back was slightly hunched.
A taxi waited by the curb.
Before she opened the door, she turned to look at me. “Rachel, just trust your own judgment.”
Nothing more.
I nodded and watched the taxi disappear into the night.
Ethan stood behind me, his hand on my shoulder. “Is your mom upset?”
“No,” I said.
“That’s good.” He let out a relieved breath. “Next time I’ll put my phone on silent. Today was really just an accident.”
I turned away, slipping out from under his hand. “What project?”
“Hmm?” He looked confused.
“You said there was an issue with a project,” I said, meeting his eyes. “What project requires you to step outside for a forty-minute phone call?”
He paused, then smiled. “Listen to that tone. You sound like you’re suspicious of me. It was Serena’s proposal—there was a problem with it. It’s her first time handling a project this big, and she panicked. I had to calm her down.”
Serena.
His assistant. Six months with the company. Twenty-three years old.
“That took forty minutes?”
“Well,” he said, pulling me close—this time I didn’t dodge. “It should’ve taken ten minutes, but she started crying. I couldn’t just leave her like that. You know how girls are—once the emotions start, it’s a whole thing.”
“Not like you, though.” He looked down at me, his gaze tender. “My Rachel always understands.”
A bitter taste spread through my chest.
It was always like this.
He always said I was the most understanding, then felt perfectly justified giving his time and patience to someone else.
“Ethan.”
“Yeah?”
“Today was the first time my mom met you.”
His hand stilled. “I know.”
“She dyed her hair specially for today.” My voice was flat. “She hasn’t dyed her hair in ten years.”
Ethan was silent for a few seconds.
Finally, he just patted my shoulder. “I know. That’s why I feel even worse. Next time, I promise I’ll make it up to her properly.”
“Let’s find a time. I’ll take her to that Italian place she likes. Sound good?”
He finished speaking and glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late. Let me take you home. I have an early meeting tomorrow.”
He raised his hand to hail a cab.
I stood there, watching his profile.
The streetlight stretched his shadow long across the pavement.
He was still the same Ethan—always saying things no one could fault.
But suddenly I remembered three years ago, when my mom first said she wanted to meet him.
Back then Ethan had said, “Let me get a bit more established first. I want to give her a better impression.”
Two years ago, my mom brought it up again.
He’d said, “Next year. Once this project wraps up, I’ll have more free time.”
Last year, he said he was preparing for it.
This year, they finally met.
And then came today.
The car stopped in front of my building.
Ethan unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over for a goodnight kiss.
I lowered my head, pretending to search through my bag, and avoided it.
“I’m tired. Drive safe.”
His hand froze mid-air. After a moment, he pulled it back. “Alright. Get some rest.”
I got out of the car.
The moment I closed the door, I heard his phone ring again.
He answered it, his voice warm with laughter. “Still awake? Don’t cry. I looked over the proposal for you…”
The car started and drove away.
I stood downstairs, watching the taillights disappear around the corner.
My phone buzzed.
A message from my mom:
“Are you asleep yet?”
My finger hovered over the screen for a moment, then I typed: “Not yet.”
After a while, she sent another message:
“Rachel, I’m not old-fashioned. If you really love him, I won’t stop you.”
“But I’ll say this once.”
“Don’t undervalue yourself.”
I sat on the couch until two in the morning.
Only a floor lamp lit the living room.
On the coffee table lay a photo of my mom and me, taken on her birthday last year.
In the picture, her eyes were crinkled into crescents from smiling, holding the scarf I’d given her.
I’d spent a month picking out that scarf. It cost half my monthly salary.
When Ethan saw the price tag, he’d said, “You’re buying her something this expensive? She won’t even have anywhere to wear it.”
I didn’t respond. I bought it anyway.
My mom was so happy when she received it, but she never wore it out.
She said she was saving it for an “important day.”
Like today.
I stared at her smiling face in the photo, feeling my throat tighten.
I got up and went to my bedroom, pulling an old tin box from the top shelf of the closet.
Inside were things from Ethan and me over the years.
Movie ticket stubs, amusement park passes, birthday cards he’d written.
At the very bottom was a yellowed sticky note he’d slipped into my backpack in college: “Once I graduate and start earning money, the first thing I’ll do is marry you, so your mom won’t worry.”
The handwriting was messy, but every word pressed hard into the paper.
I stuck the note back in the box and closed the lid.
My phone buzzed again.
A message from Ethan:
“Did you get home? Get some sleep.”
I stared at the message without replying.
Five minutes later, he sent another:
“Still mad?”
“I booked an Italian restaurant for tomorrow lunch. I’ll take your mom. You come too.”
I stared at the screen for a long time.
Finally, I typed: “No need.”
He replied quickly:
“What’s wrong? Are you really angry?”
“Rachel, I know I didn’t do well today, but you have to understand—Serena’s project is really important.”
“I’m at a critical point in my career right now. Once I get through this phase, I’ll give you all my time, okay?”
I didn’t respond.
I closed the chat window and scrolled to a contact labeled “Mrs. White.”
Three months ago, my mom had asked someone to set me up on a blind date. This was the mother of that potential match.
I’d refused immediately back then.
My mom had said, “Just keep the contact. You never know.”
I’d saved it but never planned to use it.
Now, I sent Mrs. White a message:
“Hello Mrs. White, this is Rachel. About what we discussed before—would that still be possible?”
After sending the message, I turned off my phone.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
My mind kept replaying my mom’s expression today.
And the perfume smell on Ethan’s jacket.
It wasn’t the brand I used.
The next morning, when I woke up, I had over a dozen messages on my phone.
Ethan had sent seven or eight, ranging from “good morning” to “why are you ignoring me” to “what’s wrong with you.”
Mrs. White had replied:
“Of course! The young man is wonderful. How about meeting this weekend?”
And one from my mom:
“Rachel, are you okay?”
I replied to my mom first:
“I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
Then Mrs. White:
“Yes, thank you Mrs. White.”
Finally, I opened Ethan’s chat window.
His latest message was from ten minutes ago:
“Rachel, aren’t you being too childish?”
“I already apologized. What more do you want?”
I stared at those two sentences, my finger hovering over the screen for a long time.
In the end, I typed: “Let’s break up.”
Ethan’s call came through three seconds later.
I didn’t answer.
He called five more times.
When the sixth call came in, I picked up.
Before I could speak, his voice came through. “Rachel, are you done throwing your tantrum?”
His tone was clearly impatient.
“I’m not throwing a tantrum,” I said. “I’m serious.”
“Serious?” He gave a cold laugh. “You’re joking about breaking up? Rachel, how old are you? Why are you still so immature?”
“I’m not joking.”
“Then what do you mean?” His voice rose. “Just because I took a phone call yesterday, you want to break up with me? Don’t you think that’s ridiculous?”
“It’s not because of yesterday,” I said calmly. “It’s because of these seven years.”
He paused.
“What seven years? What are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying,” I looked out the window, “I’m tired, Ethan.”
“I’ve waited seven years. You’re always waiting for the next time. Next time the project ends, next time things are more stable, next time you have more time.”
“But there’s never a next time.”
He was silent for a few seconds, then his voice softened. “Rachel, I know you feel wronged. But you have to understand—I’m at a critical point in my career right now…”
“I understand,” I interrupted him. “I’ve always understood.”
“So you—”
“But I don’t want to understand anymore.”
The line went quiet for a moment.
“Rachel,” his voice turned cold again, “did your mom say something to you?”
“I could see her expression yesterday. She clearly has a problem with me. Did she tell you to break up with me?”
My grip on the phone tightened.
“This has nothing to do with my mom.”
“How does it have nothing to do with her?” His tone carried a hint of sarcasm. “You were never like this before. You saw her yesterday and suddenly you changed.”
“Rachel, you’re twenty-nine years old. Can you stop listening to everything your mom says?”
I closed my eyes.
“Ethan, I’m meeting someone this weekend.”
“Who?”
“A blind date.”
The line went completely silent.
After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice full of disbelief. “What did you say?”
“I said I’m going on a blind date this weekend.”
“Rachel!” He practically shouted. “Do you even know what you’re saying?!”
“I do,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m completely clear-headed.”
“Clear-headed?” He laughed bitterly. “If you were clear-headed, you wouldn’t say something like this!”
“A blind date? You’ve been with me for seven years, and now you’re going on a blind date? Rachel, do you have any—”
“We’ve already broken up,” I interrupted. “As of right now.”
“So me going on a blind date is perfectly reasonable.”
“You—” He seemed too angry to speak.
After a long moment, he finally said, “Fine. Go.”
“Go on your blind date. Meet a hundred people if you want.”
“Rachel, I’ll be watching to see how long you can keep this act up.”
He hung up.
I put down the phone.
My hand was trembling slightly.
But my heart felt calm.
My mom called ten minutes later.
“Rachel, did you and Ethan have a fight?”
I was startled. “How do you know?”
“He just called me.” My mom’s voice sounded tired. “He said you’re going on a blind date and asked me to talk you out of it.”
“He also said you were influenced by me, and told me not to give you bad ideas.”
I closed my eyes. “Mom, don’t worry about it. This is my own decision.”
“I know.” She said, “I just wanted to ask if you’re serious about this.”
“Yes.”
The line was silent for a moment.
“Then I support you.” Her voice was soft. “You’re my only daughter. I just want you to be happy.”
“If he truly cared about you, I wouldn’t care about losing face yesterday.”
“But if he can’t even care that much, I can’t trust him with you.”
My eyes began to sting. “Mom…”
“Don’t cry.” Her voice carried a hint of a smile. “Why cry? This is a good thing.”
“I already asked Mrs. White about it. The man is a teacher—solid and reliable. Meet him this weekend. If it doesn’t work out, just think of it as making a friend.”
“And if it works out…” She paused. “I hope you won’t be deceived by a man again.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Mom, I disappointed you.”
“Silly child,” she sighed. “You’ve never disappointed me. I just feel bad for you.”
After hanging up, I sat on the couch in a daze for a long time.
My phone buzzed again.
A message from my best friend Sophie:
“I heard you’re going on a blind date?!!”
“Did that jerk Ethan call you?”
I replied:
“I’m the one who initiated the breakup.”
She responded instantly:
“You should’ve broken up ages ago!!”
“I’ve been side-eyeing him forever!!”
“Remember your birthday last time? He said he was on a business trip, but I saw his assistant’s location check-in on social media—she was in the same city!”
I stared at this message, my fingers going cold.
I called Sophie.
“When was this?”
“Last month, on your birthday.” Sophie said, “I wanted to tell you then, but you were swamped with that project. I didn’t want to distract you.”
“Wait, let me find it for you.”
Soon, she sent me several screenshots.
From Serena’s social media.
The photos showed a restaurant with candlelight and wine on the table.
The caption read: “Thanks to Mr. Hayes for the guidance. This newbie is finally making progress!”
The location showed our city.
Posted at 8 PM on my birthday.
That day, Ethan had told me he was on a business trip in another city. The project was urgent, and he’d have to work late.
He told me to celebrate my birthday without him and promised to make it up when he got back.
I stared at that photo for a long time.
Candlelight, wine, warm lighting.
And Serena’s eyes curved into crescents from smiling.
“Rachel, are you okay?” Sophie asked carefully.
“I’m fine.” I heard my own voice, completely calm. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Are you really going on this blind date?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m coming with you.” She said, “I’m not letting you go alone.”
I smiled slightly. “Okay.”
After hanging up, I opened my chat history with Ethan.
I scrolled up to a month ago.
That day I’d messaged him: “When are you coming back?”
He’d replied: “The project’s a bit tricky. Might be a couple days late. Happy birthday, babe. I’ll make it up to you when I get back.”
I’d responded with: “Okay.”
Looking at that message now.
Every word felt like a joke.
That weekend, Sophie came with me to meet the person Mrs. White had introduced.
His name was Nathan, thirty-one, a high school teacher.
He was a quiet person, didn’t talk much, but answered questions very earnestly.
He asked me, “Have you really broken up?”
I was taken aback.
He smiled. “I heard you had a boyfriend you were with for a long time. I don’t mind, but I want to know if you’ve really moved on. I don’t want to be anyone’s substitute.”
I looked at him, suddenly feeling this person was very sincere.
“I’ve moved on,” I said. “Or rather, I’m in the process of moving on.”
He nodded. “That’s good.”
“I can wait for you to fully move on.”
After the meeting ended, Sophie pulled me aside. “This guy’s pretty good. Way better than that scumbag Ethan.”
“And did you see how he looked at you? He genuinely likes you.”
I smiled without responding.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Ethan:
“Done with the blind date?”
“So, how was it? Meet your standards?”
His tone dripped with sarcasm.
I didn’t reply.
He sent another message:
“Rachel, I’m giving you three days to cool off.”
“If you don’t come back after three days, don’t blame me for what happens next.”
I looked at this message and smiled faintly.
I closed the chat window.
Opened my contacts and sent Nathan a message:
“Nathan, thank you for today. If it’s convenient, could we get our marriage certificate tomorrow?”
He replied quickly:
“Of course.”
I put away my phone.
Sophie leaned over. “What are you texting?”
“Getting married tomorrow.”
“So fast?!” Her eyes widened. “You’re serious?”
I looked across the street at a coffee shop.
Five years ago, Ethan had told me in that very place that once his career stabilized, he’d marry me.
“Yes. Completely serious.”
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After three years together, Xander set a rule: we couldn’t hold hands for more than three minutes a day.
He said we had to meet at the summit—that we absolutely couldn’t let ourselves get distracted before the SAT exams.
I believed him. I suppressed my desires and stayed up late studying with him.
The night the scores came out, there was a class party. I went to find him with my results—scores high enough to get into the same university as him.
But at the bar, I caught him pinning Summer, the worst student in our class, against the wall, kissing her with wild, unrestrained passion.
Summer gasped and pushed him away: “Xander, your girlfriend will be angry if she finds out…”
Xander laughed carelessly: “She’s obedient as a dog. I just need to buy her a gift and say a few sweet words, and she’ll be fine. She can’t leave me.”
Outside the door, my hands and feet went ice cold. My heart hurt so much I couldn’t breathe.
I thought he had a low sex drive. Turns out he just wasn’t interested in me.
I forced back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes and tore up that application form where I’d filled in the same choices as him, piece by piece.
I wiped away my tears, tossed the scraps into the trash, and walked back to our private room without looking back.
Five minutes later, Xander and Summer pushed through the door one after the other.
Xander’s expression was normal as he walked straight over to sit beside me, handing me a glass of water.
“Have some water. Your voice sounded a bit hoarse from singing earlier.”
I didn’t take it. My eyes were fixed on the faint red mark at the corner of his mouth.
He noticed my gaze and casually wiped the corner of his mouth with his sleeve.
“What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?”
He raised an eyebrow, his tone carrying a hint of indulgent helplessness.
I felt nauseous.
Before I could speak, a delicate cry suddenly came from the other end of the room.
“Oh no!”
Summer had fallen onto the sofa by the karaoke machine, her eyes rimmed with red.
“I think I twisted my ankle. It hurts so much…”
She clutched her ankle, but her gaze traveled over the crowd to land on Xander.
Several guys immediately rushed over with concern.
But Summer bit her lower lip and shook her head pitifully: “You don’t need to trouble yourselves. I’ll… I’ll just take a cab home.”
Xander set down the water glass, his brow furrowing slightly.
He stood up and turned to look at me.
“Mia, it’s not safe for Summer to take a cab alone. Let me take her home.”
I looked up at this face I’d loved for three years.
“She just twisted her ankle, not broken her leg. Can’t the classmate take her?”
A flash of impatience crossed his eyes, quickly suppressed. He reached out to ruffle my hair.
“Come on, we’re all classmates. It’s just helping each other out.”
“Don’t be so sensitive. Tomorrow I’ll go with you to submit your applications, and I’ll grab that Black Forest cake you love from my house, okay?”
I turned my head away, avoiding his hand.
This was the first time in three years I’d refused his touch.
Xander’s hand froze in mid-air.
“Xander, if Mia isn’t happy about it, forget it. I can manage on my own…”
Summer grabbed the hem of his shirt, her voice choked with tears.
Xander’s expression darkened.
Without looking at me again, he gripped Summer’s arm and helped her up.
“Let’s go. I’ll take you.”
He didn’t give me a single extra word of explanation before walking out of the room supporting Summer.
The moment the door closed, I heard classmates whispering: “Xander is way too good to Summer. I’m surprised Mia isn’t even mad?”
When the party ended, it was already ten at night. I walked the streets alone.
Passing by the corner convenience store that Xander and I used to frequent, my feet seemed nailed to the ground.
Through the glass, I saw a young couple in school uniforms huddled together working on homework.
The boy draped his jacket over the girl’s shoulders, saying something in a low voice.
I stood in the wind, my nails digging deep into the soft flesh of my palms.
The sharp pain came, and my eyes instantly rimmed red.
But I bit my lip hard, refusing to let the tears fall.
Back home, I turned on my computer by the light of the streetlamp streaming through the window.
The screen lit up. In the center of the desktop was a folder named “MIT Sprint.”
It contained scanned copies of every handwritten note Xander had made for me over these three years.
My hand gripped the mouse, the cursor hovering over that folder for a full thirty seconds.
Then I permanently deleted it.
Just then, my phone on the desk suddenly lit up.
It was a shopping link from Xander—a white floral dress.
Immediately, a second message popped up.
“Wear this dress tomorrow when we submit applications. I just bought it, it’ll look really good on you.”
I stared at the product photo. This dress looked way too familiar.
Last week, Summer had posted on Ins about receiving an early birthday gift—the exact same style.
I pulled at the corner of my mouth in an extremely short, cold laugh.
“I don’t want this so-called meeting at the summit anymore.”
“Mia, over here!”
The next morning, outside the school hallway.
Xander waved at me, holding a small cake box.
A little flag was stuck in the box with the words: “See you at MIT.”
I walked up to him, glanced at the cake, but didn’t take it.
“What time did you get home last night after taking Summer back?”
I looked into his eyes, my tone calm.
Xander’s gaze flickered for a moment, the smile at the corner of his mouth slightly fading.
“Around nine. Why?”
I pulled out my phone, brought up a screenshot, and held it in front of him.
“Then the message you sent her at 11:47 saying ‘home safe, remember to use the body wash I gave you’—were you sleepwalking when you sent that?”
Last night after clearing the folder, I casually checked my social media feed.
Summer had posted at 23:50 saying “Thanks Xander for taking me home, got the body wash.”
Though she deleted it two minutes later, I’d already taken a screenshot.
Xander panicked instantly, his fingers tightening on the edge of the cake box, but he quickly recovered.
“Stop making everything into a big deal. We were stressed for three years in senior year—can’t I relax a bit?”
“Or are you trying to control who I’m friends with too? Mia, when did you become so unreasonable?”
Hearing these words, my mind flashed to the week before finals in second semester of junior year.
Another guy in class had asked me to study together at the library on the weekend.
When Xander found out, he gave me the cold shoulder for two whole days.
In the end, I apologized first and deleted that guy’s contact, and only then did he return to normal.
He had always held double standards.
I’d just been too in love with him before, choosing selective blindness.
“Say whatever you want.”
I put away my phone and walked past him.
He called after me: “Cool off for a bit. Fill in MIT computer science major for your application like we agreed. Don’t gamble with your future out of spite.”
I stopped, looking back through the hallway’s glass window.
Right in front of me, he answered a phone call.
The name flashing on the screen was Summer.
When he answered, the corners of his mouth turned up, his voice softened, his steps became light.
Exactly like when he used to chase after me.
I withdrew my gaze and walked alone into the classroom, sitting down at the computer.
I logged into the application system.
On the screen, the first choice field blinked with an empty cursor.
I remembered when we first got together in freshman year, when Xander leaned on his desk and drew me a future plan.
Freshman year, take photos together at the MIT entrance. Junior year, intern together. Senior year, he’d propose.
I’d kept that draft paper tucked in my diary for three whole years.
The mouse clicked. First choice: MIT Computer Science and Technology.
I hit the backspace key.
Cleared it and typed again.
First choice: Harvard University, Law.
The South. Two thousand miles away.
This was my original dream when I started high school—the dream I’d personally abandoned to attend the same school as Xander.
My finger hovered above the submit button. My hand was shaking.
Not because I was hesitating, but because I suddenly realized that from this moment on, the boy who used to lean on his desk and draw me our future—he was truly dead.
I clicked submit.
Then I pulled out my backpack and extracted that future plan I’d saved for three years.
I folded it once, then again.
Then stuffed it into the paper bin in the corner of the classroom.
As I left the classroom, Summer’s voice came from the end of the hallway.
Around a corner, her voice floated over clearly.
“Xander, I sneaked a bite of the cake you just bought for Mia… She won’t be mad, will she?”
Then came Xander’s suppressed laughter: “You need to eat less sugar or your teeth will hurt again.”
I carried my bag and left through the hallway’s other exit.
Mid-August, the acceptance letters finally arrived.
Xander looked at the MIT acceptance letter in his hand, unable to suppress the smile spreading across his face.
He pulled out his phone, took a close-up shot of the acceptance letter, and prepared to send it to Mia.
He clicked send.
A red exclamation mark popped up on the screen.
Below it, a line of small text: “The other party has enabled friend verification. You are not yet their friend.”
Xander froze for two seconds, then let out a scoffing laugh.
He opened Ins. The message wouldn’t send.
He called. It went straight to voicemail.
But he didn’t panic. He even found it a bit amusing.
This was the first time Mia had escalated the cold war to blocking him across all platforms. She must be really angry this time.
But it didn’t matter. No matter how much of a fuss she made, wouldn’t she come back in the end?
Xander switched back to the group chat and typed: “Mia blocked me, hahaha, she’s really going all out this time.”
The group chat instantly exploded.
“Xander, you’re so bold. You ignored her for a whole month and you’re not even worried?”
“Mia’s such a good girl. If you just stand at her door with that MIT acceptance letter, won’t she just cry and throw herself into your arms?”
He looked at these messages, in high spirits.
He admitted that these past few months he’d gotten too close to Summer, and he felt a bit guilty.
But that was different. Summer was just novelty.
Mia was the one who truly understood him, who’d endured three years with him.
He thought to himself that once school started, he’d definitely make it up to her properly.
Xander rode his bike to the mall and walked into a flower shop.
“Give me a bouquet of your most expensive red roses.” He tapped the counter.
Payment: $399, more than double the $188 bouquet he’d bought for Summer.
Next, he went to the jewelry counter and picked out a silver necklace with small diamonds.
When he was paying, the clerk smiled and asked: “Sir, this necklace comes with free engraving. Would you like anything engraved?”
Xander thought for a moment, his mind flashing to the words he’d written on the corner of their desk freshman year.
“Engrave ‘Meet at the Summit.’”
He thought this arrangement was absolutely perfect.
He went home and changed into a dress shirt, checked his hair in the mirror, then pulled out his phone.
He sent Summer a message: “Got something to do today. I’ll contact you tonight.”
Summer instantly replied with a cute emoji.
“Okay. Contact me when you’re done, Xander!”
Xander smiled slightly and casually cleared his entire chat history with Summer.
Just in case Mia wanted to check his phone when they met later.
He rode his bicycle, holding that bouquet of gorgeous red roses with one hand.
In the rear storage basket sat the cake box and the necklace box.
He rode across the entire city toward Mia’s house.
In his mind, he was already imagining Mia’s expression when she opened the door and saw all this.
She’d probably keep a stern face at first, pretending to be unhappy.
Then when she saw “Meet at the Summit” engraved on the necklace, her eyes would slowly redden.
Finally, she’d reach out to take the flowers and quietly complain, “It’s good you know you were wrong.”
She was always like this.
For three years, he’d understood her too well. She couldn’t escape from the palm of his hand.
Two blocks from Mia’s house, his phone started vibrating violently in his pocket.
He stopped his bicycle, pulled out his phone and saw it was his high school teacher Mr. Johnson calling.
Xander answered the phone, his tone relaxed and cheerful: “Mr. Johnson, I received the acceptance letter. MIT Computer Science. Thank you for three years of guidance…”
Mr. Johnson cut him off directly.
“Xander, I’m not calling about you. I’m asking you—what’s going on with Mia?”
He frowned. “Mia? She should have received her MIT acceptance letter too, right?”
A heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone: “With her scores, getting into MIT would have been more than enough. I even told other teachers you two would definitely go together.”
“But when I got the final admissions list today…”
Mr. Johnson’s voice suddenly rose.
“Her application—she ended up choosing Harvard University Law School. That’s over two thousand miles from you.”
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On my way home, I picked up my last rideshare order.
A man with a six-year-old child was on the phone with his wife. “Honey, I’m in the car now. I’ll drop off our son and come right back to spend our anniversary with you.”
His wife’s voice came through. “Don’t we have a car at home? Stop taking rideshares. Those cars are filthy.”
My grip on the steering wheel suddenly tightened.
Not because of the insult in her words, but because the woman’s voice sounded exactly like my wife, Serena Moore.
After the man hung up, he said apologetically, “Sorry about that. My wife is a bit of a germaphobe.”
I nodded and probed cautiously, “What does your wife do for work?”
The child answered proudly, “My mom’s a professor at Harvard! Her name is Serena Moore! She’s amazing!”
The man stroked the boy’s hair affectionately. “My family would only let me marry a professor. She used to be a designer, but she became a professor for me.”
It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over me. My whole body went cold.
It really was her!
Seven years of marriage, and her illegitimate child from her affair was already six years old!
I suppressed my heartache and went home, only to overhear Serena on the phone.
“Mom, find a way to make Holden have a car accident. Once he loses his memory, I’ll bring Preston and the kid home.”
“I’ll arrange the best medical care for him, but he’s occupied Preston’s place for so long. It’s time he gave it back.”
I stood frozen in place, my heart finally turning cold. Then I pressed send.
[Dad, I agree to the arranged marriage, but the company has to go to me too.]
After finishing her shower, Serena placed a bowl of broth on the table.
“You’re home so late today. Were you busy?”
She was still playing the role of devoted wife, as if she wasn’t the one who had been cheating for six years.
Serena rarely had time to cook. Usually it was me rushing home to make dinner for her.
The old me would have been moved to tears by this bowl of soup.
But I didn’t touch it. I just sat down and looked at her quietly.
She sensed something was off, but still asked patiently, “What’s wrong? Bad day? Didn’t get any orders?”
“You don’t need to put so much pressure on yourself. The kid thing—we don’t need to rush it.”
I smiled bitterly to myself. Yeah, your kid is already that old. What’s the rush?
Throughout our marriage, Serena had used her career advancement as an excuse to avoid having children.
I thought she felt our life wasn’t stable enough, and I felt bad about how hard she worked as a professor, so I desperately took on orders to earn money, driving from 4 AM until midnight.
Now it was clear. She just didn’t want to have children with me.
Thinking of our seven years together, I held onto one last shred of hope.
“Serena, is there anything you’re hiding from me?”
“If you tell me now, I can pretend nothing happened.”
Serena’s body stiffened. Clearly I’d struck a nerve.
“What do you mean?”
I didn’t bother explaining further. “I mean, who are you cheating on me with?”
Suddenly, a slap landed hard across my face. Serena flew into a rage and knocked the broth to the floor.
“Holden Hayes, you sit around doing nothing all day and come up with this nonsense?”
“Imagining your own wife sleeping around—how disgusting are you?”
I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. The last trace of affection disappeared.
“I’m disgusting?”
“When you told your mom to hurt your own husband, didn’t you think you were disgusting?”
Serena froze for a moment, then frowned in disgust. “You eavesdropped on my phone call?”
After a few seconds, she calmed herself and looked at me coldly.
“Since you heard it, I’ll just say it straight.”
“Preston and I have been together for many years. If he hadn’t gone abroad that year, and if you hadn’t saved me—”
“How could I possibly have married someone as useless as you?”
Her phone screen lit up. Serena glanced at something and her face filled with happiness.
I laughed bitterly inside. So that man was still her true love.
A belated pain started in my chest, followed by a dull ache from my ribs.
That was a lingering injury from when I’d saved her.
My breathing grew labored. “Serena, help me get my medicine… My rib injury is flaring up…”
But Serena didn’t even glance at me. She grabbed her keys and walked out the door.
“Holden, holding a favor over someone’s head works once. It won’t work a second time.”
“You owe Preston so much. Apologize to him properly, and we can go back to how things were.”
“I’m going to spend our anniversary with Preston. Think it over, then come find me.”
My heart went completely numb. In her eyes, everything I’d done for her was just me holding a favor over her head.
The pain in my ribs intensified. I struggled to move and find my medicine.
Just as I took it, Lynn, my butler, called me.
“Mr. Hayes, the arranged marriage with Miss Jones is set for three days from now. Please prepare yourself.”
I packed my things to go home. A colleague sent me a text message.
“Holden, why is the platform full of bad reviews about you?”
“The company fired you and locked your car access.”
I felt no emotion. I knew without asking this was Serena’s doing.
She wanted to use this method to force me to apologize, to force me to endure.
But that was fine. I was going to resign anyway. This saved me the trouble.
But the next sentence truly stopped me in my tracks.
“Oh right, Miss Moore is actually the daughter of Mr. Moore, our chairman!”
Serena was the daughter of Steven Moore, the owner of the rideshare company?
My heart sank to rock bottom.
No wonder management always gave me trouble and assigned me barely any orders.
No wonder she could get her mother to sabotage me.
But from our marriage until now, she’d lied to me, saying her parents were farmers in the countryside who couldn’t conveniently come to the city.
I’d never met her parents. They hadn’t even attended our wedding.
I didn’t care about her background, but I couldn’t accept that she’d deceived me for five years.
From the very beginning, she never planned to accept me, and after all these years, she still hadn’t.
I was about to block Serena’s contact information when an unknown number called.
“Is this Holden Hayes? I’m Serena’s mother. Do you have time to come over for dinner?”
I thought about it and agreed. Our seven years together deserved some kind of closure.
I arrived at the Moore family mansion. Inside was lavishly decorated, filled with their relatives.
After dinner, out of respect, I volunteered to wash dishes and clean up.
That’s when I heard people around me gossiping.
“So this is the man Serena never brought home? He’s quite handsome, but he looks so shabby.”
“Oh honey, he’s just a rideshare driver who saved her once. How can he compare to Preston?”
“Exactly. Preston may not have a job, but his family background is so much better.”
I kept my expression unchanged, but my heart ached again.
Back then, for Serena’s sake, I’d refused the family’s arranged marriage. I’d fought bitterly with my father and been kicked out of the house.
I’d worked hard to give Serena the best life possible. She complained I was useless, yet the man she was devoted to was a freeloader who did nothing.
The difference between love and lack of love was indeed obvious.
Mrs. Moore sneered. “What husband? The marriage certificate is fake.”
“My daughter said he’s just a male housekeeper Serena hired.”
All the blood in my body seemed to freeze. I stood there rigid.
The marriage certificate was fake?
I thought of yesterday, when I’d taken out the marriage certificate to file for divorce, never imagining it was a fake document.
The year we got married, Serena and I walked out of the courthouse together.
She held that red booklet and smiled at me for the first time.
“Holden, I’ll treat you well.”
I’d been so excited I couldn’t sleep all night.
How moved I’d been then was how ironic it felt now.
Mrs. Moore even pulled out photos of their family of three and introduced them to everyone. “This is my real son-in-law. The child looks so much like his father, doesn’t he?”
Just then, a news segment played on the TV.
“The Moore family heiress has publicly revealed her longtime partner, Mr. Preston.”
“According to the couple, they will hold a wedding of the century at the end of this month.”
Looking at the TV screen showing the two of them smiling and snuggling sweetly together, I finally understood Mrs. Moore’s intentions.
She’d called me here just to make me leave on my own, to establish in front of everyone that I was the homewrecker destroying their family.
After gathering my things, I pushed open the door to leave, only to run straight into Serena, who’d just returned.
Behind her stood the child and Preston.
When she saw me, she slapped me without a word.
“Holden Hayes, how dare you make a scene at my house?”
“In front of all these people—what exactly are you trying to do?”
After all these years, she still jumped to conclusions without asking, never caring about my feelings.
My face stung painfully. I pulled at the corner of my mouth. Might as well make everything clear in front of everyone.
“Serena Moore, I came to tell you that not everyone is like your freeloader mistress.”
“I, Holden Hayes, never used a cent of your money or asked you for a single favor.”
“From now on, you and I have nothing to do with each other. Understand?”
Serena’s usually proud face showed a trace of disbelief and panic.
“What do you mean? You want a divorce?”
I laughed coldly.
“Divorce? The marriage certificate is fake. There’s no divorce to speak of, is there?”
“All these years with you, wasn’t I just a free housekeeper?”
The Moore family relatives started chiming in.
“Serena, this man just claimed to be your husband. What’s your relationship with him?”
Serena’s earlier panic vanished in a flash. She gripped Preston’s hand tightly behind her.
“How is that possible? Preston has always been my husband.”
“Would I, Serena Moore, ever like a rideshare driver?”
Then Preston smiled and put his arm around her shoulder, sizing me up.
“Oh, it’s you. That driver from the other day. I guess it’s true—dirty car, dirty person.”
I clenched my fists, holding back again and again.
Forget it. Arguing with these people was a waste of life.
But just as I passed by him, Preston lowered his voice and leaned close to my ear.
“She hasn’t let you touch her in a long time, right? Want to know why?”
“Because her body is covered with my marks. And you—you’re dirty and weak, can’t even hold onto your own woman.”
Hearing that, my anger finally exploded.
Though I no longer cared about Serena’s affair, I couldn’t stand the mistress’s constant provocations.
But before I could move, Preston suddenly let go and fell backward down the steps.
He slammed hard onto the ground in front of the mansion entrance, blood seeping from the back of his head.
The Moore family members screamed. Serena shoved me aside hard and ran down to hold Preston.
“Preston, Preston, are you okay… Does it hurt…”
Seeing her face full of concern, I found it laughable.
Years ago, when I’d saved her, I’d broken two ribs and used my body to pry open the crushed car door.
I’d been in so much pain that tears streamed involuntarily down my face, yet she’d said coldly, “You’re a grown man. Can’t handle a little pain? Do you need to cry about it?”
Serena turned her head and shouted at me with red eyes.
“Holden Hayes, have you lost your mind? To get me, you want to kill Preston?”
This was the first time I’d seen her this angry.
I said coldly, “He fell on his own. Are you blind?”
Before I finished speaking, a sharp pain shot through my hand.
It was Serena’s illegitimate son. He was hitting my arm with a scalding kettle of hot water.
“Bad man! Don’t bully my daddy!”
I frowned and pushed the child away.
But Serena suddenly rushed over and slapped me several times.
She held the child tightly behind her.
“You bastard, you even want to hurt my son?”
“Holden Hayes, do you really enjoy using these dirty tactics?”
Mrs. Moore pulled out her phone and pointed it at me. She was livestreaming.
“Everyone come see! The homewrecker is making trouble at the real wife’s house, trying to kill her husband and harm the child!”
I looked at this absurd scene and suddenly felt exhausted.
No matter how I explained, no one would believe me.
They didn’t care about the truth. They wanted to ruin my reputation.
Serena kept pounding on me, her eyes full of hatred.
“Holden Hayes, I must have been blind to show you any mercy!”
“You’ve occupied Preston’s place for so many years—how dare you lay a hand on him!”
“Get on your knees and apologize to him right now!”
I almost laughed in anger.
“Why should I apologize for something I didn’t do?”
“You chose to marry me. You chose to cheat. What do I owe Preston?”
I looked at them one last time, coldly.
“Serena Moore, you’ve lied to me for seven years. You’re the one who owes me.”
“I hope you never regret this for the rest of your life.”
With that, I ignored everyone’s curses and walked straight out.
After instructing Lynn to pick me up, I stood by the road waiting for the car.
But the next second, a black car suddenly came barreling toward me.
I couldn’t dodge in time and slammed directly into the hood.
When I woke again, I was lying in the Hayes family’s private hospital.
My head was dizzy, and my right leg hurt terribly.
But compared to when I’d saved Serena, this injury was nothing.
My father’s hoarse voice sounded. “You’re awake?”
I turned my head to see him sitting by the bed, his eyes red.
“Dad.”
Seven years. I’d finally seen my father again.
He touched my head, as if only then daring to confirm I was really awake.
“How long was I out?”
“Five days.”
Five days.
That’s when I learned that to get revenge on me, Serena had deliberately called a car to run me over.
Fortunately, Lynn had arrived in time and rushed me to the best hospital for emergency treatment, which was why I’d woken up.
Luckily there was no major injury—just a mild concussion and external wounds.
I tried to sit up, propping myself on my arms. A dull pain shot through my ribs.
Dad said he’d already sent people to deal with the hit-and-run driver, but as for those two people, he’d leave them to me.
I nodded without asking more. Of course I wouldn’t let them off easily, but not now.
Then I remembered something else.
“What about the arranged marriage with the Jones family?”
Lynn hesitated. “Miss Moore said we could wait a bit longer.”
I frowned and immediately threw off the covers to get out of bed.
“No waiting. Today.”
“Making a young lady wait so long—what kind of behavior is that?”
Dad came over and patted my shoulder gently, saying nothing.
Finally, I changed into a suit and got in the car heading to the Jones residence.
On the way, I opened my phone.
There was a message Serena had just sent.
I didn’t open it. I just deleted it.
When I arrived at the Jones residence, Amelia Jones was already waiting for me.
She wore a white dress.
Seeing me get out of the car, she paused slightly.
I walked over and extended my hand.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Jones.”
She smiled and placed her hand in my palm.
“Just call me Amelia.”
At the Moore mansion, Serena adjusted Preston’s collar.
“Preston, the Jones family’s young lady is getting married today. I’m going over to discuss a project.”
“Many elites will be there. It’s a perfect chance to introduce you around.”
She took Preston’s arm and got in the car heading to the Jones residence.
She opened her chat with Holden Hayes, still feeling uneasy.
“Have you finished throwing your tantrum? When you’ve thought it through, come apologize to Preston.”
“As long as you sincerely apologize, I can let it go. We can go back to how things were.”
But he hadn’t replied to a single message these past few days.
After thinking, she sent another one.
“I was wrong about the marriage certificate. Whatever compensation you want, I’ll give it to you.”
After sending it, she took Preston’s arm and entered the Jones family reception hall.
Inside, business elites packed the space.
Once everyone had arrived, the Jones family announced they would present the newlyweds.
Preston said enviously, “I heard the man marrying Miss Jones has an even better background. I wonder which Mr. Hayes it is.”
As soon as he finished speaking, I walked into the hall with a smile, holding Amelia Jones’s hand.
The guests below applauded to congratulate us.
After Serena saw my face clearly, she froze in place.
Her purse dropped to the floor with a thud.
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Once again, Ethan Pierce pinned me down and took what he wanted. When it was over, he stared at my face and whispered another woman’s name.
“Yolanda, I love you.”
Yolanda Reed was the woman he truly loved.
And I had been his secret lover for eight years.
I thought eight years by his side would finally make him love me. But the moment Yolanda came back, he got down on one knee and proposed on live television.
Ethan even made me, his assistant, present the engagement ring.
When I walked onstage holding the box, Yolanda leaned close to my ear and whispered with a soft laugh.
“Thanks for warming his bed for eight years. Now it’s time to give him back to his rightful owner.”
The crowd erupted in applause. The lights were blinding.
And that man who had me pinned beneath him just last night didn’t spare me a single glance as he kissed Yolanda passionately.
My heart turned to ash. It was finally time to leave.
Sienna POV
Ethan Pierce’s control over my body was as absolute as ever.
In the dark, castle-like master bedroom, he’d just finished another empty, emotionless round.
I barely had time to take the pill from the nightstand before exhaustion shut my eyes.
When I woke again, it was already the next morning.
A sharp ringtone jolted me awake.
I pulled on a robe and walked to the living room, only to find Ethan’s special assistant standing there with a freshly printed legal contract in hand.
“Miss Sienna Hayes, Mr. Pierce has instructed you to sign this copyright transfer agreement.”
The assistant’s voice was all business, devoid of any warmth.
I was a children’s book author.
During these eight years by Ethan’s side, I had written countless warm and healing fairy tales under the pen name Starlight.
The worlds I created were filled with light, miracles, and unwavering love.
But in reality, I was just Ethan’s secret lover who could never see the light of day.
I lowered my gaze to the contract.
“The Deer Above the Clouds.” This was my latest full-length fairy tale, three years in the making, my heart and soul poured into every word.
And in the transferee column, two words were printed clearly. Yolanda Reed.
“What is this supposed to mean?”
My fingertips went ice-cold instantly. My voice trembled uncontrollably.
Ethan emerged from his study wearing an impeccably tailored dark suit, his features cold and sharp, radiating aristocratic hauteur.
“Exactly what it says.”
He spoke casually, his tone matter-of-fact.
“Yolanda’s depression has gotten worse recently. She needs an opportunity to return to the public eye. This fairy tale has a very healing tone. Publishing it under her name will be good for both her condition and her image.”
My brain exploded with a roar.
I stared in disbelief at this man I had loved for eight years.
“Ethan, that’s my life’s work! Every single word, every single story. I stayed up countless nights writing it. Yolanda hasn’t even read it. What gives you the right to hand it over to her?”
Yolanda Reed, Ethan’s first love, the woman he cherished most.
A year ago, Yolanda’s career abroad hit rock bottom, and she came back carrying the label of “depression.”
From that day on, my life became absolute hell.
Whenever Yolanda was the slightest bit unhappy, Ethan would trample me underfoot without hesitation.
Ethan frowned slightly, as if displeased by my resistance.
“Sienna, don’t be unreasonable. You write fairy tales to make money, don’t you? I’ll compensate you ten times the royalties for this book. Yolanda is mentally fragile right now. She needs applause and flowers to rebuild her confidence. You’re just a ghostwriter. What use do you have for fame?”
I bit down hard on my lower lip until I tasted blood.
Ten times compensation?
To me, fairy tales were my only refuge in this broken life.
They were my soul. They were the light that kept me alive.
But Ethan was about to rip out my soul with casual ease and stitch it onto Yolanda’s false shell.
“I don’t want the money.”
I looked at him.
“I wrote this fairy tale for Oliver. I will never give it to anyone, especially not Yolanda!”
Oliver, Oliver Hayes, my younger brother who had autism.
Hearing my refusal, Ethan’s gaze turned ice-cold in an instant.
He stepped forward, his long fingers gripping my chin with force enough to crush bone.
“What makes you think you have the right to negotiate with me?”
Ethan looked down at me from above, his voice laced with frost.
“Everything you and your brother have had these past years. Who do you think paid for it? Now Yolanda needs it. So you’ll give it to her.”
My heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand. I couldn’t breathe from the pain.
Eight years.
When I was eighteen, my parents died, leaving me alone with my autistic brother with nowhere to turn.
Ethan descended like an angel and gave me a home.
I thought it was salvation, so I gave him my entire heart, my entire life.
I was the quiet, obedient woman by day and the bedmate he could take at will by night.
I thought if I was good enough, if I loved him enough, someday I could melt this iceberg.
Even in bed, in his most passionate moments, he had kissed my forehead and called my name.
Turned out it was all just a dream.
A tear fell from my eye onto the back of Ethan’s hand, scalding him into a brief pause. But he quickly released me in disgust.
“Sign it.”
Ethan took the fountain pen his assistant handed him and threw it on the coffee table.
“Don’t make me use other methods. You know Oliver is still at the care facility.”
My whole body trembled.
He was threatening me with my brother.
I closed my eyes as tears slid down my cheeks.
Eight years of devotion, and in the end, all I got was a calculated robbery with a price tag.
My hand shook as I picked up the pen and signed my name on the agreement.
Every stroke felt like carving flesh from my own body.
Sienna POV
Three days after signing the agreement, Yolanda made her high-profile comeback with “The Deer Above the Clouds.”
News articles flooded every outlet praising Yolanda as a “talented beauty author,” saying she used fairy tales to heal herself and the world.
I sat in my dim room, watching Yolanda’s radiant smile on the screen, my heart bleeding with every beat.
But I didn’t even have time to grieve.
The care facility called. Something had happened to Oliver.
I stumbled to the facility in a panic. When I arrived, Oliver was curled in the corner of the art room, trembling violently, clutching broken paintbrush shards in his hands. Torn papers littered the floor.
“Oliver!”
I rushed over and wrapped my brother tightly in my arms.
Oliver was an autistic savant. He couldn’t speak, so all his emotions came through in his art.
Every illustration in “The Deer Above the Clouds” had been drawn by Oliver, stroke by painstaking stroke.
“The deer… it’s gone…”
Oliver forced out a few words, his eyes filled with terror and despair.
My heart felt like it was tearing apart.
I turned around to see Yolanda standing at the art room door, with Ethan beside her.
Yolanda wore a pristine white dress, looking like an innocent angel.
She hid behind Ethan, her eyes rimmed with red.
“Ethan, I just wanted to visit Oliver and let him know his paintings would be published under my name from now on, so he wouldn’t worry. Who knew he’d suddenly go crazy and almost hurt me…”
My brain exploded with rage.
It wasn’t just the words. They were stealing Oliver’s artwork too!
“Yolanda Reed, do you have no conscience?!”
I stood up.
“Stealing my book wasn’t enough? You had to come provoke Oliver too? Those paintings are his life!”
I lunged forward to push Yolanda away, but Ethan grabbed my wrist and flung me aside violently.
I lost my balance and crashed hard onto the floor covered with torn paper. A broken paintbrush sliced open my palm, leaving a long gash that bled profusely.
Ethan looked down at me from above, his eyes full of warning.
“Sienna, have you lost your mind? Yolanda came here out of kindness to visit him, and your brother not only showed no gratitude but almost injured her hand. She’s a violinist. Don’t you know how important her hands are?”
I lay on the floor, staring at my bleeding palm, and laughed.
Yolanda’s hands mattered, but my brother’s life didn’t?
“Ethan, are you blind?”
I pointed at Oliver cowering and trembling in the corner.
“She came here to steal Oliver’s paintings! She’s the one who pushed him to this!”
“Enough!”
Ethan cut me off coldly.
“It seems this facility is no longer suitable for Oliver. I’ll arrange to send him to a closed psychiatric rehabilitation center abroad. There, he can receive proper discipline.”
I felt like I’d been plunged into ice water.
A closed rehabilitation center abroad. In other words, a psychiatric institution.
For someone like Oliver, going there was a death sentence.
“No! You can’t take Oliver away!”
Ignoring my injured hand, I crawled over and clutched Ethan’s legs desperately.
“Mr. Pierce, I’m begging you. I gave you the book, I gave you the paintings, let Yolanda take everything, all of it! Just please don’t send Oliver away. He’ll die without me!”
I abandoned every shred of dignity, humbling myself to dust.
Ethan looked down at me clinging to his legs, his brow furrowing slightly.
But then Yolanda gently tugged at his sleeve.
“Ethan, I’m so scared. Oliver looked terrifying just now…”
Yolanda leaned weakly against his shoulder.
Ethan’s gaze hardened once more.
He pried my fingers off one by one, his voice utterly flat.
“This isn’t up for discussion. Keeping him here will only make him a threat to Yolanda. Tomorrow morning, I’ll have someone pick him up.”
With that, he put his arm around Yolanda and left the art room without looking back.
I collapsed on the floor, watching their retreating figures, tears streaming down uncontrollably.
I had always thought that even though Ethan was cold, he at least had some compassion for me.
Now I understood. In Yolanda’s presence, my brother and I didn’t even qualify as human beings.
We were just stepping stones on Yolanda’s path to success, ready to be crushed at any moment.
I turned and held Oliver, burying my face in my brother’s thin shoulder, crying silently.
I had to find a way to save my brother.
Even if it cost me my life, I couldn’t let Ethan take Oliver away.
Sienna POV
To stop Oliver from being sent abroad, I stood outside Ethan’s villa all night.
The autumn night rain cut through me with bone-chilling cold. I was soaked to the skin, but I didn’t care.
It wasn’t until the next morning that Ethan’s black sedan finally pulled through the gate.
The car window rolled down. Ethan saw me standing in the rain, his brow furrowed deeply.
“Get inside.”
He threw out those cold words.
I followed him into the living room. Rainwater dripped from my hair onto the expensive carpet.
Ethan removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie, his sharp gaze fixed on me.
“Playing the victim? Sienna, when did you learn these underhanded tactics?”
I stood there numbly, my voice so hoarse I could barely speak.
“As long as you don’t send Oliver away, I’ll do anything.”
Ethan let out a cold laugh and walked up to me, his long fingers hooking open my soaked collar.
“Anything?”
His tone was mocking.
“Besides this body of yours, what else could possibly interest me?”
I closed my eyes and didn’t resist as he scooped me up and threw me onto the bedroom’s large bed.
What followed was a conquest without foreplay, only punishment.
Ethan seemed to be venting some unknown fury, his movements rough and brutal.
I gritted my teeth and didn’t cry out once in pain. Only silent tears slid from the corners of my eyes, soaking the pillow.
I let him tear into me.
When it was over, Ethan looked at me, his brow furrowing slightly.
“Oliver can stay for now.”
Ethan lit a cigarette, dispensing his mercy in the coldest tone possible.
“But you have to move out of your current apartment and live in my villa in the western suburbs. You’re not allowed to leave without my permission.”
The western suburb villa was where Ethan kept his “pets” in a gilded cage.
“Okay.”
I agreed without a moment’s hesitation.
As long as I could protect my brother, I would give up even my life, let alone my freedom.
For the next two weeks, I was completely confined.
Ethan came almost every night.
He adorned me with the most expensive jewelry and possessed me with the most extreme control.
He was trying to prove that I still belonged completely to him.
But during the day, I was forced to do the most humiliating work. Ghostwriting for Yolanda.
“The Deer Above the Clouds” was a huge success, and the publisher demanded Yolanda produce a sequel as soon as possible.
Yolanda couldn’t write a single word herself, so Ethan forced the task onto me.
“Ten thousand words per day. If you don’t finish, Oliver’s medical expenses stop.”
Those were Ethan’s exact words.
I sat at the computer, staring at the screen filled with fairy tale elements that should have been mine, now bearing someone else’s name. Every keystroke felt like a knife cutting into my heart.
I wrote faster and faster, but the stories grew sadder and sadder.
The princesses in my stories no longer had knights to protect them. They could only bleed alone in dark forests.
One afternoon, the villa door opened.
It wasn’t Ethan who entered, but Yolanda.
Yolanda looked at me, a triumphant smile playing on her lips.
“Sienna, do you think Ethan comes to see you every night because he loves you?”
Yolanda walked to the desk and casually flipped through my discarded drafts, her tone contemptuous.
“He just doesn’t want to hurt me. My wrist was injured, my body is delicate. He can’t bear to touch me. So he uses you as a tool to vent his frustrations instead.”
My fingers froze on the keyboard.
“Do you know Ethan bought me a wedding dress yesterday?”
Yolanda leaned closer, lowering her voice.
“At next month’s book launch, he’s going to propose to me. And you? You’ll always be nothing but a dirty woman who can’t see daylight, who doesn’t even deserve to have her name on her own work.”
I stared at the screen, my nails digging deep into my palms. I said nothing.
I thought my heart had already died, but hearing the word “propose” still made it convulse with pain.
Seeing that I wouldn’t fight back, Yolanda seemed to lose interest. She scoffed and left.
The room fell silent again.
I looked at the sentence on my screen. “The deer finally died on a night without stars.” I covered my face and let out a desperate, muffled cry.
Sienna POV
The launch event was dazzling, packed with media and celebrities.
I was supposed to be confined to the western suburb villa, but out of the blue, Ethan had someone deliver a haute couture gown and ordered me to attend.
“Yolanda’s signing session needs an assistant to hand her pens and organize manuscripts. You’re most familiar with this material. You’ll go.”
Ethan’s reasoning sounded official, but every word cut like a blade.
I wore an ill-fitting gray business suit and stood in the shadows where the spotlights couldn’t reach.
I watched the center of the stage.
Yolanda wore a white haute couture gown, looking every bit the fairy tale princess. She held the trophy that should have been mine, smiling gracefully and beautifully.
“This work wouldn’t exist without the most important person in my life.”
Yolanda spoke into the microphone, gazing affectionately at Ethan in the front row.
“He gave me inspiration, and he pulled me out of the abyss of depression.”
Thunderous applause erupted.
Ethan walked onstage and took the microphone from the host.
His usually stern face now wore an unusually gentle smile.
“Yolanda is a genius. She deserves the best of everything this world has to offer.”
Ethan looked at Yolanda, his voice deep and pleasant.
Then, before countless flashing cameras, he dropped to one knee and produced a dazzling diamond ring.
“Yolanda, marry me.”
The crowd went wild. Romantic confetti rained down from above.
I stood in the corner, coldly watching this scene unfold.
My heart had gone numb from pain. Even breathing tasted like blood.
Eight years.
I had accompanied him through his family’s most difficult power struggles, shielded him from harm in the business world, and even nursed him meticulously for a month when he had a bleeding ulcer.
I had naively thought that if I just kept waiting, someday he would turn around and truly see me.
But now, he was giving all his glory, favor, and promises to another woman.
And I had been personally pushed into the mud by his hands, forced to witness their happiness.
“Could the assistant please bring up the books for signing?”
The host’s voice suddenly rang out.
A spotlight hit me.
Every eye in the venue focused on me.
I froze in place.
Yolanda smiled and beckoned.
“Come on over, everyone’s waiting.”
Ethan also turned his head, his gaze locking coldly onto me with unquestionable authority.
I took a deep breath, picked up the thick stack of new books, and walked toward the stage step by step.
The book’s cover bore Yolanda’s name. The illustrations were Oliver’s. The words were mine.
This was my brother’s and my flesh and blood, now reduced to props for someone else’s romance.
When I reached Yolanda’s side, she suddenly lowered her voice to a volume only we could hear.
“Sienna, see? Your life’s work, your man. They’re all mine now. You’re nothing but a complete failure.”
My hands trembled violently. The books tumbled from my arms and scattered across the floor with a loud crash.
Gasps rippled through the audience.
“What kind of work is this? You can’t even do such a simple task!”
Ethan shouted harshly.
“Hurry up and pick them up! Apologize to Yolanda!”
I looked at the books scattered on the floor, at Ethan’s heartless face, and suddenly found it all absurd.
I didn’t bend down to pick up the books. Instead, I stood straight and looked directly at Ethan.
“Ethan, do you really love her?”
My voice wasn’t loud, but in the quiet venue, it rang out clearly.
Ethan’s brow furrowed tightly.
“What nonsense are you spouting? Security, get her out of here!”
“If you don’t love her, why did you steal my life to give to her?”
I smiled, the last light in my heart extinguishing completely.
“If you do love her, then why do you pin me down every night and call out her name?”
The moment those words left my mouth, the entire venue fell deathly silent.
Yolanda’s face went deathly pale. Ethan’s eyes churned with a terrifying storm.
“Shut her up and drag her out!”
Ethan exploded with rage.
Several security guards rushed forward, roughly twisting my arms behind my back and dragging me away.
I didn’t struggle. I just turned back and looked deeply at Ethan one last time.
In my heart, there was no more love, no more hate. Only the dead ashes of what once was.
Ethan, I don’t owe you anything anymore.
Sienna POV
After the launch event scandal, Ethan’s revenge became absolutely insane.
I was completely cut off from the outside world, locked in the western suburb villa like a real prisoner.
Every day, aside from being forced to write, I endured Ethan’s furious punishment at night.
Ethan used his actions to show me exactly what happened when I defied him.
But I didn’t care about any of it anymore. The only thing I still worried about was Oliver.
However, the thing I feared most still happened.
Late one night, the villa’s landline suddenly rang.
The servant watching over me wasn’t there, so I picked up the phone.
“Is this the family member of Oliver Hayes? This is the care facility. The patient’s condition is critical. Please come immediately!”
The doctor’s voice was extremely urgent.
My mind went completely blank.
I bolted out of the villa without thinking.
Rain poured down. I had no umbrella, no money, didn’t even have my shoes on properly. I ran barefoot through the storm for what felt like forever before finally flagging down a taxi.
When I reached the facility, Oliver had already been rushed into the emergency room.
“What happened? What’s wrong with Oliver?”
I grabbed the nurse’s hand, trembling uncontrollably.
The nurse sighed.
“This afternoon, a Miss Reed came to visit him. We don’t know what she showed him, but the patient suddenly lost complete emotional control, triggered severe stress-induced heart failure, and… and mutilated both his hands.”
I felt like I’d been struck by lightning.
Yolanda! It was Yolanda again!
I rushed into the hospital room and saw the floor covered with twisted, bloody drawings Oliver had made. Every single one screamed silently.
I collapsed in the pool of blood, my heart so broken I couldn’t even cry.
I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and dialed Ethan’s number.
Once, twice, three times… no answer.
Oliver needed to be transferred. He needed the top specialists for consultation. All of this required Ethan’s approval, required the Pierce family’s resources.
I had one last option. I called Ethan’s special assistant.
“Miss Hayes, Mr. Pierce is currently on a yacht celebrating Miss Reed’s birthday. He’s given strict orders not to be disturbed by anyone.”
The assistant’s voice was ice-cold.
“Please, just let me speak to him for one second! Oliver is dying. He needs to be transferred to another hospital. Please!”
I stood outside the emergency room, desperately pleading into the phone.
After a moment of silence, Ethan’s impatient voice finally came through.
“Sienna, what game are you playing now?”
Hearing his voice, I grasped at that sliver of light.
“Ethan, Oliver is dying! Yolanda went to provoke him. He went into heart failure and destroyed his hands! Please help me. Send a helicopter to get him to the best hospital. I’m begging you!”
I could hear Yolanda’s sweet laughter in the background, probably cutting cake.
Ethan’s voice instantly turned arctic.
“Sienna, there’s a limit to how much you can lie. Yolanda has been with me all day. How could she possibly have gone to the facility? Are you so desperate to ruin her birthday that you’d even curse your own brother’s life?”
“I’m not lying! Check the surveillance footage! Ethan, this is a human life!”
I screamed hoarsely, my throat filled with the taste of blood.
“Enough!”
Ethan cut me off brutally.
“Oliver going crazy is his own problem. Since he destroyed his own hands, he’s just a useless wreck now anyway. I don’t have time to deal with your mess.”
The call ended mercilessly.
I stared blankly as my phone screen went dark.
Useless wreck.
My brother was a genius who had been driven to this, step by step, by them!
Just then, the emergency room light went out.
The doctor emerged, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry, Miss Hayes. We did everything we could. The patient… didn’t make it.”
I didn’t cry.
I slowly stood up and watched as they wheeled out Oliver’s body, covered with a white sheet.
I pulled back the sheet and looked at his pale face and his hands, which he had bitten until they were mangled beyond recognition.
“Oliver, don’t be afraid. I’m taking you home.”
I gently stroked his ice-cold cheek.
My heart, in that moment, died completely.
Not even ashes remained.
Sienna POV
On the luxury yacht Ethan had chartered for Yolanda, lights blazed and elegantly dressed guests mingled.
Yolanda wore that starry gown, nestled against Ethan’s side, accepting everyone’s blessings and envious gazes.
I shoved the banquet hall doors open with force.
The cheerful music cut off abruptly. Every eye turned to me.
I wore a thin windbreaker soaked through with rain and mud, barefoot, the soles of my feet covered in bloody cuts.
The moment Ethan saw me, his expression darkened sharply.
“What are you doing here?”
Ethan strode over, trying to block everyone’s view, and hissed quietly in fury.
“Didn’t you embarrass yourself enough last time? Get out of here!”
I ignored him. I stared hard at Yolanda hiding behind him.
“Yolanda Reed, what did you show Oliver this afternoon?”
My voice was eerily calm.
Yolanda flinched and clutched Ethan’s sleeve tighter.
“Ethan, I’m scared… She looks like a lunatic…”
“Sienna! I told you, Yolanda was with me all day!”
Ethan grabbed my wrist, squeezing hard enough to shatter bone.
“Where’s security? Drag her out!”
I laughed.
I wrenched my hand free from Ethan’s grip and pulled a blood-stained phone from my pocket.
It was Oliver’s phone. Inside was a video Yolanda had sent him.
In the video, Yolanda threw Oliver’s original artwork into a fire pit one by one, burning them while telling him in the most vicious language:
“Your sister has been used up by Ethan. She’ll be thrown out of the Pierce family soon. You idiot, you do nothing but drag her down. These garbage drawings of yours are only good enough to be my stepping stones.”
I held the phone screen up to Ethan’s face.
“Ethan, look closely. This is the kind, fragile woman you’ve been protecting with your life!”
Ethan’s gaze fell on the screen. His face instantly darkened. He turned to look at Yolanda.
Yolanda panicked. Tears immediately started falling.
“Ethan, it’s not like that! That autistic boy went crazy first and tried to hit me. I just got upset and scared him a little… I really didn’t…”
“Scared him?”
I advanced step by step.
“Do you know that because you ‘scared’ him, he went into heart failure? He’s dead! Yolanda Reed, you killed my brother!”
The entire room gasped.
Ethan’s body went rigid.
He looked at me in disbelief.
I pulled a sharp knife from my sleeve and lunged straight at Yolanda.
“You’re going to pay for his life!”
Yolanda screamed and dodged.
In that critical moment, Ethan instinctively stepped in front of Yolanda.
With a sickening sound, the blade slashed Ethan’s arm. Blood immediately gushed out.
I froze.
I stared at the blood on the knife’s edge, then at how Ethan had protected Yolanda without hesitation. Suddenly, it all seemed laughably absurd.
“Have you lost your mind?!”
Ethan snatched the knife from my hand and shoved me violently to the ground.
I crashed hard onto the cold marble floor. My bones made a dull thud.
“Oliver is dead because he had bad luck. What does that have to do with Yolanda?”
Ethan looked down at me from above, his eyes utterly devoid of warmth.
“You actually dared to pull a knife and try to kill someone on my turf because of some autistic kid?”
“Bad luck?”
I lay on the floor, tilted my head back to look at him, and finally let the tears fall.
“Ethan, it wasn’t bad luck. It was meeting you! You enabled Yolanda. You personally cut off his path to survival!”
“Send him for cremation. I’ll cover the funeral expenses.”
Ethan cut me off impatiently and turned to order the security guards.
“Take Sienna back to the western suburb villa. Lock her in the basement. Without my permission, no one is to let her out. When she learns to apologize to Yolanda, then she can eat again!”
I didn’t struggle. I let the security guards drag me away.
I watched Ethan anxiously check whether Yolanda had been hurt, watched him cradle that murderer in his arms protectively.I closed my eyes and told myself:
Ethan, this is the last time I’ll cry for you.
From now on, we’ll never see each other again.
š Continue the story here
šš» š² Download the “NovelMaster” app
š search for “393699”, and watch the full series āØ!
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The call from the precinct was the crack that finally shattered the fragile peace of my remarriage to Adrian.
The detective on the line said Adrian was being detained on suspicion of sexual assault and battery. He told me to get down there immediately to cooperate with the investigation.
In the mediation room, the sight of Adrian and Sabrinaādisheveled, clothes half-torn, and radiating a guilty heatāseared into my retinas.
Sabrina was hysterical, sobbing that Adrian had to divorce me right then and there. If he didn’t, she threatened to “confess” everything about her pregnancy, claiming her husband would kill her and the baby if he found out.
Adrianās face went rigid. I watched the gears turn behind his eyes, the agonizing struggle of a man caught between two worlds. Finally, he nodded.
The moment his head dipped in agreement, I knew our marriage was over. For good this time.
I signed the mediation transcript without a word, ending the farce. With a few strokes of a pen, I drew a final, jagged line through ten years of shared history.
I looked at him and remembered how different heād seemed after we remarried. Heād stopped staying out all night; he stopped calling me “crazy” or “unstable.” Weād started living like a normal couple againādinners out, movies, planning for a future child while sitting on the porch swing, making wishes for a lifetime of happiness under the Fourth of July fireworks.
It was all a lie. The only reason heād changed was that Sabrina, his little mistress, had married another man out of spite.
…
The heavy door to the mediation room swung open, and my eyes met Adrianās.
“Claire? What are you doing here?”
He faltered when he saw my gaze drop to Sabrinaās protruding stomach. He let out a sharp, jagged breath.
“You… you saw. Fine. I wonāt lie to you anymore. Sabrina and I are back together. Iām the one who reached out to her.”
He stepped in front of her instinctively, shielding her as if he expected me to fly into the kind of hysterics I used to be known for. “Blame me if you want, but leave her out of it. Sheās innocent in all of this.”
Only when he realized I wasn’t screaming did he relax his guard and step toward me.
“Claire, Iām sorry. I know I broke my word. But her husband, Victor, is a goddamn lunatic. If he finds out about us, heāll kill her. And itās my faultāshe only married him to get back at me.”
He lowered his voice, his tone shifting into that manipulative, pleading register I knew so well. “The only way to get her away from him is if she leaves. But sheās pregnant and stubborn as hell. She refuses to leave Victor until she sees our divorce papers. So, Claire, can you just sign? Once sheās safe and the divorce is finalized, weāll find our way back to each other. Okay?”
In the three years since weād remarried, I thought Adrian had grown a soul. But looking at him now, all I saw was the familiar flicker of irritation and impatience.
When I didn’t answer immediately, his temper flared. “What are you waiting for? Claire, be realistic. Your grandmotherās medical bills, her physical therapyāIām the one paying for all of itā”
“Fine. Iāll sign.”
The words cut him off mid-sentence. I reached out and took the papers from his hand.
He stared at my signature, written in a steady, cold hand. He seemed stunned by how easy it was.
His voice softened instantly. “Thank you. You know you and Grandma are still the most important people in my life. Once Sabrina is safe, everything goes back to the way it was. Iāll make it up to you. Iāll take even better care of you both.”
I felt nothing. His promises had become white noise, static in the background of a life I no longer recognized.
Was it the first time I caught him cheating that the words lost their meaning? Or the night he knelt on the floor, begging me to remarry him, swearing heād never betray us again? It didn’t matter.
I nodded vacantly, paid the fine for his “disorderly conduct,” and turned to leave.
I hadn’t made it ten feet before Adrian lunged after me, dragging me back toward the station’s side exit.
“Someone leaked the story. The press is crawling all over the front entrance.”
He suddenly reached out, his fingers digging into the skin of my neck. He squeezed, hard enough to leave a mark, forcing a bruised discoloration to bloom on my throat.
“If Victor’s people see the footage, Sabrina is dead. Claire, I need you to do this for her. Just tell them… tell them it was you in the car with me last night. That you were the one the cops caught. Please?”
Before I could even gasp out a refusal, he shoved me through the doors and into the blinding flash of cameras.
“Mrs. Sterling! Were you the woman caught in the car on the bridge last night?”
“Whoās the other man? How could you do this to your husband?”
“Is it true you were recently released from a psychiatric ward? Did you really try to burn your own grandmother alive during a breakdown?”
“What did you say?” The rage hit me like a physical blow. “Don’t you dare mention my grandmother!”
I lashed out, knocking the microphone from the reporter’s hand. In the ensuing scuffle, a heavy camera lens swung toward me. It connected with my temple with a sickening thud.
Hot blood began to crawl down my face. I collapsed to the pavement, shivering and humiliated.
“Claire!”
Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Adrianās voice. He started to break through the crowd, rushing toward me.
“Adrian… my stomach… it hurts so much…”
Sabrinaās voice was a pathetic whimper, but it worked. Adrianās footsteps stopped instantly. He pivoted, turning his back on me to scoop her into his arms.
By the time he looked back, I had already crawled away. I stood up, wiped the blood from my eye, and pulled out my phone. I booked a one-way ticket out of the country.
Two days later, I checked myself out of the hospital early.
When I walked into the house, Adrian wasāfor the first time in yearsāstanding in the kitchen heating up milk. He froze when he saw the bandage on my head. A flicker of genuine guilt crossed his face.
He walked over, holding the mug out as if to feed me.
I stepped back. “Iām allergic to dairy, Adrian.”
The mug trembled in his hand. The guilt deepened.
Heād forgotten. Of course he had. Years ago, when we were “in love,” Iād eaten an entire cake heād baked for me just because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Iād ended up in the ICU with a throat so swollen I could barely breathe. Back then, heād held me and cried, swearing heād never forget as long as he lived.
But “as long as he lived” was apparently just a decade.
“Iām so sorry, Claire. These last few days… Iāve been buried. I know I put you through hell.”
He leaned in, pressing a soft, pacifying kiss to my bandaged temple. “Just trust me one more time? Once Sabrina gets her divorce and has the baby, Iāll set them up somewhere else. Iāll come back to you completely. Weāll take care of Grandma together, just like we planned.”
The same old script. Iād believed it a thousand times. Iād believed it at the altar. Iād believed it when my grandmother and I emptied our savings to fund his first start-up. Iād believed it when he knelt in the dirt three years ago.
Every single time, reality had slapped me across the face.
I looked past him into the hallway. I saw the door to the nurseryāthe room we had meticulously decorated for our son, Teddy. It had been a sanctuary. Now, the door hung open, revealing a wreckage.
I pushed him away, a cold, jagged laugh bubbling up in my throat. “Stop it! Stop acting! Itās disgusting!”
“You let her stay in Teddyās room. You knew exactly what that would do to me. We are done, Adrian!”
I stumbled toward the nursery, my heart breaking all over again. Teddyās little toddler bed had been kicked over and shoved into a corner. His favorite toy carsāthe ones heād played with the day he diedāwere smashed.
And the photos. The photos I had tucked away so carefully were shredded, scattered across the floor like confetti.
“Oh, Claire, Iām so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
Sabrina was sitting on the sofa, sipping her milk with a look of pure, predatory triumph.
“Adrian was so worried about me. He said this room got the best sunlight, that it was the best place for the baby. I didn’t know it was your sonās room. Adrian never mentioned him.”
The rage was a physical thing now, making my hands shake uncontrollably.
“Besides,” Sabrina said, her eyes glinting. “If Teddy were here, Iām sure heād want his new little brother or sister to have the room, right? Itās not like a dead kid can use it.”
I didn’t think. I lunged. My hand connected with her face in a crack that echoed through the house.
“If it weren’t for you and Adrian, Teddy would still be alive! How dare you? How dare you!”
The memory of my sonās final moments flooded my brain, stripping away my sanity. I struck her again and again, ignoring her screams.
Then, a shock of ice-cold water hit me.
I gasped, my body seizing as Adrian stood over me with an empty ice bucket. I slid to the floor, shivering and broken.
Adrianās hand was shaking, but his voice was hard. “Thatās enough, Claire! Teddyās death was an accident. Sabrina had nothing to do with it!”
“Iām grieving too, goddammit! But heās gone. Heās not coming back. Iāve done everything I can to make it up to youāwhat else do you want from me?”
“An accident? Innocent?” I was screaming now, my voice raw with salt and blood. “You left him! You left a three-year-old alone in the car because you had to go inside and see her! He got out… he wandered into the street… he was hit by a truck because you weren’t there! Tell me again whoās innocent!”
The scar I had tried so hard to stitch shut was ripped wide open. Every night, I wondered: If I hadn’t been sick that day… if I hadn’t trusted him with our son… would Teddy still be here?
“Iām sorry, Claire. I am.” Adrian reached down to pick me up, his voice softening again. “But we have to let the past go. When Sabrinaās baby is born, he can be your child too. We can be a family again.”
I shivered, but before his hands could touch me, Sabrina let out a sharp cry of pain.
“Adrian… my stomach. It hurts. My face…” She was sobbing, clutching her belly. “If you hadn’t come in, she would have killed the baby. What if she does something to me when youāre not around? What if she hurts me like she hurt her grandmother?”
I saw it then. The shift in Adrianās eyes. The pity for me vanished, replaced by a cold, sharpened fear.
After Teddy died, Iād been a ghost. Grief is a madness no one tells you about. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my sonās body broken on the asphalt. I didn’t sleep. I wandered the house clutching his favorite blanket, searching for him. I thought if I just kept looking, he wouldn’t really be gone.
But Adrian saw my grief as a liability.
“You already left your grandmother in a coma, Claire. Are you going to kill another person?”
He turned his back on me to cradle Sabrinaās face.
I stared at his spine. “Are you really sure I was the one who did that to Grandma?”
The sleepwalking. The fire in the kitchen. The night the world went up in flames. Grandma had run in to save me. But when we reached the door, it had been locked from the outside. With a heavy chain.
She had used her last bit of strength to shove me through a window. She had stayed behind, crushed by falling debris, her right leg lost, her body a map of third-degree burns.
When I finally woke up in the hospital, I had told the police exactly who I saw lurking in the shadows that night. Sabrina.
“It was her,” Iād sobbed into Adrianās chest. “I saw her. She locked us in!”
But Adrian had pushed me away. “Youāre delusional, Claire. Sabrina was with me. Why are you trying to ruin her life?”
Heād handed the police a hotel receiptāhis alibi for her. And then, heād used my “mental instability” to sign the papers that committed me to the state asylum.
“So what now?” I asked, my voice a dead whisper. “Are you going to send me back to the psych ward to protect her again?”
I stood up and ripped my sleeve back, then my collar. I bared my skin to him. It was a landscape of horrors. Cigarette burns, needle marks from forced sedatives, long-faded whip marks from the orderlies.
Adrian froze. His mouth hung open. He reached out to touch a jagged scar on my wrist, his fingers trembling.
“How… how did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”
His eyes welled with tears. “Claire, I didn’t know. I swear, if Iād known they were hurting you like this, I never would have sent you there.”
He moved to help me up. “Iāll take you to the hospital. Weāll get you the best plastic surgeons. I wonāt let these scars stay on you.”
“Adrian!” Sabrina screamed again. “It hurts! Help me!”
Without a second thought, he let go of my arm. He turned and ran to her, leaving me to fall back onto a pile of shattered glass from a broken picture frame.
As the blood pooled in my palm, I started to laugh. It was a hollow, jagged sound. Adrian would always choose the lie.
Two hours later, my phone buzzed with a text from him.
Iām so sorry, Claire. Sabrinaās having complications with the pregnancy, I canāt leave the hospital. I asked the housekeeper to make that herbal tea you like. Stay home and wait for me. Iāll be back as soon as I can…
I didn’t reply. I dragged my suitcase to the door and called an Uber.
He thought I was the same stupid girl who would wait forever. He didn’t know that Iād already moved Grandma to a private facility under a different name. I was leaving the pain behind.
But when I reached the airport, two officers stepped into my path.
“Claire Sterling? Youāre under arrest. Youāre a suspect in a homicide investigation. Come with us.”
The handcuffs were cold and heavy. At the station, the truth came out.
Sabrina had gotten into a fight with her husband, Victor. Sheād stabbed him. And to clear her name, Adrian had taken the murder weapon and hidden it in the trunk of my car.
“Claire, I know itās not fair.” Adrian stood on the other side of the bars, his face haggard. “But if Sabrina goes to prison, what happens to the baby? Thatās two lives, Claire.”
“And you have a history,” he continued, his voice low and desperate. “The judge will be lenient because of your mental health record. Iāve hired the best lawyers. You wonāt be in for long.”
“Once the heat dies down, Iāll get you out. Iāll make it up to you for the rest of my life. I swear.”
I listened to him, but the words felt like they were in a foreign language.
“You want me to take the fall for a murder? For her?” I stared at him, truly seeing him for the first time. The man who had promised to love me forever was gone. In his place was a monster wearing his skin.
“Just this once, Claire. The last time.” He was practically begging. “I already lost Teddy. I canāt lose another child. Do this for me.”
It was the first time heād ever humbled himself before me. And he was doing it for her.
I stayed silent for a long beat. Then, I smiled.
“No.”
Adrianās expression turned to one of pure, venomous disappointment. “How can you be so heartless? Youād watch a mother and her child die?”
“I’m sorry. I just can’t do it.”
“Fine,” he snapped. “Wait here. I’ll find a way to fix this, but don’t expect things to be ‘fine’ when you get out.”
When I get out? I laughed.
Youāre on your own, Adrian. You will never see me again.
After he left, I looked at my handsāhands that had been nearly broken by the guards in the asylum. I asked for my one phone call.
“The deal you offered,” I said into the receiver. “I accept.”
…
The next morning, Adrian hurried back to the station with a team of lawyers. As he stepped out of his car, he saw a black sedan speeding toward the airport.
His heart skipped a beat. A sudden, inexplicable dread washed over him. He rubbed his temples, trying to shake the feeling, but as he entered the lobby, the world fell out from under him.
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I time-traveled five years into the future.
I’m married to my now highly successful ex-boyfriend.
And I’m carrying his child.
But he seems to hate me.
When I took the initiative to cook, he refused to pick up his fork: “What kind of drug did you put in the food this time?”
When I offered myself in bed, he sneered: “Trying to get me aroused so you can shove another woman into my bed again?”
When I told him we should just live happily as a family of three…
This man instantly turned into a wronged puppy: “Are you still trying to use this child to humiliate me?”
Good lord, don’t tell me the kid isn’t his either?
1
Last night, Liam tossed and turned me until the early hours of the morning.
The insatiable bastard.
He nearly took half my life.
“Liam!”
I bossed him around out of habit: “Pour me a glass of water.”
But for a long time, no one answered.
The silk sheets slipped off as I sat up, revealing a slinky slip dress.
After tossing so hard last night, there wasn’t a single mark on my body.
Waitā
I stared at my lower abdomen in shock.
What was this slight bulge?
Am I… pregnant?
The room was incredibly unfamiliar, decorated in a white and gray palette, with luxury evident in every detail.
But I clearly remembered.
Last night, Liam and I were in his cramped, rented apartment.
A rickety wooden bed that squeaked all night along with his rough movements…
2
In a panic, I instinctively dialed Liam’s number.
“What is it?”
He sounded so cold.
I bit my lip, feeling panicked and wronged. “Where are you?”
“The office.”
“The auto repair shop?”
There was a pause.
Liam’s voice came through the line, chillingly cold.
“Are you planning to make a fuss about my past again?”
“What past?”
I was utterly baffled. “Don’t you work at the auto repair shop?”
“And last night we were clearly in your apartment, how come today…”
“Beep…”
Before I could finish, I heard the busy tone.
Liam had actually hung up on me.
That bastard!
I cursed him resentfully.
Just as I was about to call back, my eyes caught something on the screen.
2030…
Is it already five years later?
I stared stiffly at my bulging stomach, belatedly realizing that I might have time-traveled five years into the future.
And I was pregnant.
There was an old photo on the nightstand.
A brightly dressed me, and Liam wearing a sleeveless tank top, looking ruggedly handsome.
After calming my emotions, I called him back.
“Liam, we’re married, right?”
“How many years have we been married?”
“How did my dad agree to let me marry you?”
I desperately wanted to know what had happened in these five years.
However, Liam seemed to have misunderstood something.
He let out a bitter laugh: “Olivia, are you trying to tell me you regret it again?”
“This is the third time this month you’ve brought up divorce.”
He paused: “I’ve said it before, I will not agree to a divorce.”
3
“Who wants to divorce you?”
I was astonished.
With Liam’s face, his physique, his jackhammer-like stamina, and the fact that he seemed quite wealthy now…
How crazy would I have to be to want a divorce?
It was very quiet on the other end of the line.
So quiet that I could even hear his breathing suddenly accelerate.
A long time passed.
He said faintly: “Suit yourself.”
Before I could speak, the phone was hung up again.
Seriously, how is this man so temperamental now?
Probably spoiled by me.
You can’t spoil men.
Knowing that I was in my own home, the anxiety weighing on my heart finally settled.
I prepared to change my clothes and go downstairs.
Opening the closet, I froze instantly.
A riot of colors.
Each style more vulgar than the last.
Tsk.
Did future-me really have this kind of taste?
I reluctantly picked out a relatively plain dress, put it on, and shuffled downstairs in my slippers.
Unexpectedly, I ran into a familiar face downstairs.
“Martha?”
I was overjoyed. Martha had been a housekeeper for my family for over twenty years.
In an unfamiliar future, meeting someone close to me made me feel incredibly grounded.
“Perfect timing,” I affectionately linked my arm with hers. “I’m planning to cook a meal for Liam myself.”
“With you teaching me, I’m confident.”
Martha’s expression was a bit complex.
She hesitated, then softly advised, “Miss, are you… planning to torment Mr. Sterling again?”
Torment?
Thinking about my atrocious cooking skills…
That word wasn’t an exaggeration.
She wanted to say more, but I cut her off. “I know Liam.”
“Even if it tastes awful, he’ll force himself to finish it.”
4
In the kitchen, I beat around the bush and asked about the past five years.
Five years ago.
I ignored my family’s objections and married Liam.
After getting married, to give me a better life, Liam quit his job and started his own business.
Although my dad openly looked down on this poor son-in-law, he secretly provided a lot of support during the early stages of his startup.
And Liam indeed lived up to expectations.
In five years, he went from a poor kid to a rising star in New York.
According to Martha.
Liam’s current assets and status far exceeded my dad’s.
“It’s just…”
Martha helped me put the chicken soup on to simmer, hesitating to speak. “Miss, have you and that Carter guy… not broken it off yet?”
“Carter?”
I stirred the vegetables in the pan and casually asked, “Who’s that?”
Martha was clearly stunned. “Your… boyfriend.”
I nearly choked on my saliva.
We exchanged a look.
“I cheated?”
Martha nodded, heartbroken.
“He’s also a mechanic. You insisted on a divorce no matter what, you wanted to…”
Before she could finish her sentence.
Footsteps came from outside the door.
Martha stopped talking instantly.
I turned around and saw the Liam of five years later.
Dress pants wrapped around the man’s long legs, his shirt cuffs neatly buttoned to the second buttonāmature and uninhibited.
He had lost some weight.
His features looked even sharper.
Even though I already knew the man opposite me was my legal husband,
I still blushed a little at how handsome he was.
“You… you’re back.”
“Mm.”
So cold.
But thinking about it, it made sense. Since I cheated on him with a younger guy, it would be weird if he gave me a good attitude.
Taking a deep breath, I put on a smiling face, bracing myself to clean up the mess left by my future self.
“You must be tired. Go wait for me outside, dinner will be ready soon.”
Liam’s gaze swept over the apron loosely tied over my slightly bulging stomach.
His tone was flat.
“Not hungry.”
Saying that, he turned on the kitchen’s ventilation system.
And turned to leave.
“Liam!”
Holding a spatula, I stepped forward and couldn’t help acting coy. “Dinner will be ready in a minute, and it’s all your favorite dishes.”
“Just try a little, okay?”
“Not hungry.”
Liam turned and walked out the door.
Martha, standing next to me, asked cautiously, “Miss, should we… still cook these?”
I sighed, “Yes.”
5
Dinner was ready.
Four dishes and a soup, all home-cooked meals.
Liam, who had claimed he wasn’t hungry, still sat down at the dining table.
I thought to myself, I have a chance, and quickly put a shrimp into his bowl.
“Miss.”
Martha whispered a reminder from the side, “Mr. Sterling is allergic to shrimp.”
Crap.
I immediately took it back.
And replaced it with a piece of braised pork.
But Liam refused to pick up his chopsticks. He leaned back slightly, watching me with a calculated look.
“Spit it out.”
“What kind of drug did you put in the food this time?”
I was stunned. “I didn’t…”
Liam interrupted me with a mocking tone, “You’ve cooked twice this year. Once you put laxatives in the food, and the other time sleeping pills.”
“Just because I wouldn’t agree to a divorce.”
“Olivia, what drug is it this time?”
I looked at him in astonishment.
I couldn’t defend myself.
“I really didn’t drug it.”
To prove it, I frantically picked up a piece of meat and stuffed it into my mouth.
“There’s really no poison…”
“Ughā”
Liam’s face darkened, and he actually reached out to dig it out of my mouth.
He said gruffly, “I’ll eat it, okay?”
“Even if it’s poisoned, I’ll accept it. You don’t have to go this far.”
I pushed him away and swallowed the piece of meat whole.
“It’s really not poisoned, it’s just… a little gross.”
It had a strong, gamey meat smell.
Liam looked at me for a good while.
Then he sat back down.
I don’t know if it was an illusion, but it seemed like he curled his lips slightly.
Liam finally picked up his chopsticks.
I carefully observed his expression.
Sure enough.
The moment the food entered his mouth, despite his usual perfect expression management, he couldn’t help but frown.
But he had lived through hard times.
Even though it tasted awful, he still ate almost everything.
Seeing that he was in a good mood, I struck while the iron was hot. “Liam, I’d like to talk with you tonight.”
The hand holding the chopsticks stiffened.
“I don’t have time.”
His expression turned cold again.
He put his chopsticks down heavily. “I have to work late tonight. Whatever it is, we can talk about it later.”
6
I sat at the table, resting my chin on my hands, lamenting my bitter fate.
A five-year memory gap.
How is this any different from losing five years of my life?
And I still had to clean up the mess for my future self and grovel to win my husband back.
Liam, now a domineering CEO, was also moody, changing his face faster than turning a page in a book.
I sighed.
Martha hesitated and asked, “Miss, are you… still planning to bring up divorce with him tonight?”
I was stunned.
“You thought I wanted to talk to him about divorce tonight?”
“Is… isn’t that it?”
Martha murmured in astonishment, “For the past year, you’ve been dead set on divorcing him. Every time you see him, you either force him to sign the papers or persuade him to let go.”
I remembered Liam’s ugly expression just now.
So.
He suddenly changed his face and insisted he was busy tonight, just because he was afraid to hear me bring up divorce again?
What an idiot.
7
Liam worked in the study until late into the night.
Just as I was dozing off while waiting, footsteps sounded outside the door.
Stepping through the hazy night.
He stopped outside the door.
My sleepiness vanished instantly.
I got out of bed holding my pillow.
Opened the door.
And met Liam’s fragile, astonished gaze.
He froze for a moment and slowly put away the unlit cigarette between his fingers.
“Liam.”
I called him softly.
He gave me a complex look, his face dark as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I’m very tired.”
He paused. “Whatever it is, we’ll talk tomorrow.”
Saying that, he was about to leave again.
I gritted my teeth and followed him, holding the pillow with one hand and hooking my other arm through his.
Liam stiffened.
I looked up at him. “I don’t want to sleep alone. I’m scared.”
He turned his head away.
And rejected me again.
“I was working tonight. I’m very tired.”
“I won’t move around,” I promised sincerely. “I’ll just sleep next to you and do nothing.”
“I won’t bother you.”
Liam didn’t speak.
But his Adam’s apple bobbed quietly.
“Suit yourself.”
Holding my pillow, I happily followed him into his room.
What a bland room.
He’s a CEO, after all, but aside from a bed and a closet, there was nothing else in the room.
Hmm.
There was also an old photo of me on the nightstand.
I was about to take a closer look, but Liam was quick and shoved it under his pillow.
“Having nightmares lately.”
“Putting a photo by the bed wards off evil spirits.”
So stubborn, still so stubborn.
Liam lay down with his back to me, acting as if he was ignoring me.
I hesitated for a moment.
Then I just hugged his waist and pressed against him.
But the next second, my hand was thrown off by him.
Liam turned around, moonlight falling on his face, his expression sorrowful.
“Olivia.”
“Are you trying to arouse me again so you can shove another woman into my bed?”
He closed his eyes, suppressing his surging emotions.
“You’ve pulled these stunts so many times, just to leave me and go find him?”
I was completely stunned.
My heart ached, and I suddenly felt a little bad for Liam.
What exactly had I done to him over the past five years?
I didn’t know how to explain, so I carefully took his hand. “Liam, will you trust me? I don’t want a divorce.”
“We have a baby now. From now on, the three of us will live a good life together, okay?”
But my words seemed to hit Liam’s sore spot completely.
He pushed me away, trembling.
The sorrow in his eyes was so heavy it was almost overflowing.
“Olivia, are you still trying to use this child to humiliate me?”
Humiliate?
I suddenly remembered Martha’s hesitation, and a bad premonition arose in my heart.
Damn it.
Could this child… really not be Liam’s?
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The salesman stood there, pen hovering over the paperwork, waiting for my final word. I pointed to the sleek, matte-black silhouette of the luxury sedan in the center of the showroom and said, “This is the one. Iāll take it.”
Right then, my phone vibrated. It was my brother, Tyler. When I answered, his voice was a jagged mess of sobs and gasps, as if he were drowning on dry land.
He told me his two boysāmy nephewsāhad been kidnapped. The kidnappers were demanding two million dollars in ransom. He said he couldnāt scrape together even a fraction of it and begged me, his big brother, to save the kids.
He promised, over and over, that heād pay me back every cent the moment he had it.
As a rising star in the Silicon Valley tech scene, two million was roughly what I cleared in a good month. It was a staggering amount to most, but for me, it was a business expense.
But I didnāt hesitate. I didn’t even soften my voice. I told him, “No. Iām not giving you the money.”
01
“The MSRP on this model is two million, including the custom trim…”
The salesman froze, his mouth hanging open as he stared at me. On the other end of the line, Tylerās voice escalated into a raw, frantic scream.
“Logan! Youāre seriously telling me youād rather spend two million on a damn car than save Ben and Toby? Theyāre your own flesh and blood! Are those kids worth less than a piece of metal to you?”
Tylerās voice was so loud it bled through the speaker, echoing in the hushed, expensive silence of the dealership. People at the nearby espresso bar turned, their eyes narrowing as they caught the drift of the conversation.
I ignored them. I walked a slow circle around the car, admiring the carbon-fiber accents.
“Do you have this in any other colors?” I asked the salesman, my tone conversational.
“Weā¦ we have the ‘Midnight Amethyst’ as well. Itās stunning. One moment, let me pull up the spec sheet for you.”
“Don’t bother,” I said. “I’ll take that one too.”
The salesman blinked, convinced heād misheard. “Mr. Weaver? You meanā¦ you want two? Two identical cars in different colors?”
I nodded, my expression bored. “Exactly.”
“Right away! Iāllā¦ Iāll get the contracts drafted immediately!”
The salesmanās voice was a frantic, joyful chirp, a sickening contrast to the explosion of rage coming from my phone.
“Logan, have you lost your mind? Ben and Toby are waiting for that ransom! Youāre their uncleāhow can you just sit there and let this happen?”
“They have a father,” I said, my voice dropping into a cold, flat register. “Why is this my problem?”
There was a beat of silence. When Tyler spoke again, the rage had dissolved into a pathetic, watery whimper.
“Logan, please. You know Iām broke. Iāve lost everything on those bad investments. Iām drowning in debt. Just lend it to me. Iāll work for you, Iāll be your slave, Iāll do anything once the boys are safe.”
I didnāt say anything for a long time, just listened to the sound of my own footsteps on the polished marble floor.
“Logan,” he sobbed. “Iām begging you.”
“Stop crying,” I snapped, my patience finally hitting a wall. “They arenāt dead yet.”
I hung up.
But the silence didn’t last. Ten minutes later, the glass doors of the showroom swung open, and my mother, Martha, stormed in.
“Logan! You have to save your nephews! Theyāre just babies!” She lunged for me, grabbing my arm with a grip that was surprisingly strong for a woman her age, her face already a mask of tears.
Just then, the salesman returned, beaming as he held out the folders. “Mr. Weaver, here are the contracts for both vehicles. The total comes to four million. If you could just look these over…”
“Four million?” Martha gasped. She snatched the papers out of his hand, her eyes darting across the numbers.
When she saw the total, she looked like she was about to scream, but she caught herself. She forced her voice into a trembling, maternal plea. “Logan, honeyā¦ the boys have been kidnapped. Please, take this money and save them.”
I gave her a long, chilly look. “Whatās the rush? Let me finish buying the cars first.”
She stared at me as if I were a stranger. “They are your nephews! Your brother’s children! How can you be so heartless? Youāre standing here picking out paint colors while theyāre in some dark room terrified for their lives? They love you, Logan. How can you just watch them die?”
By now, a small crowd had gathered. In a high-end dealership like this, people usually minded their own business, but the drama was too juicy to ignore. Once they pieced together what was happening, the whispers started.
“He can afford four million for cars but won’t pay two to save kids? Thatās sick.”
“Most people in this zip code are cold, but this is a new low. Itās two lives.”
“I know himāthatās Logan Weaver. Heās that tech guy from the news. Worth a fortune. I guess he traded his soul for his bank account.”
I didn’t blink. I didn’t defend myself. I simply pulled out my black card and handed it to the salesman.
“Process it,” I said.
A young woman in a white sundress stepped out from the crowd, her face flushed with indignation. “Ma’am,” she said to Martha, “is there some kind of family feud? Why is he doing this to you?”
Martha played her part perfectly, her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Thereās no feud. Theyāve always been close. Logan, have you forgotten? When you were a kid and fell into the river, Tyler was the one who screamed for help until his lungs gave out. He saved you.”
She wiped her eyes, her voice cracking. “We were poor. When you got into that fancy university, Tyler gave up his own dreams. He went straight to work at the warehouse just to make sure you had tuition money. And now that youāre rich, you won’t even help him save his sons?”
I stayed silent. Because everything she said was technically true.
Tyler had been there when I fell. He had skipped college while I went.
Marthaās voice rose to a crescendo. “Logan, look, just consider it a loan. The second the boys are back, Iāll make Tyler and his wife move abroad. Theyāll work two jobs, three jobsātheyāll pay you back every cent. Just give them the chance to save their children!”
“Enough!” I barked. The sound echoed like a gunshot. “Itās a ‘no.’ Not a dime.”
I turned my back on her to look at the cars again.
Martha flew at me. The slap was loud, stinging my cheek and turning my face to the side. “You ungrateful monster!” she shrieked. “I wish Iād never given birth to you!”
The girl in the white dress joined in, her voice shaking with rage. “He saved your life! Those are his kids! Are you even human?”
“Mind your own business,” I snapped at her.
Her face turned a deep, blotchy red.
“Logan, please,” Martha sobbed, dropping to her knees on the cold floor. “Iām begging you. Iāll do anything.”
I didnāt move. I didn’t reach out to help her up. I just signaled for the security guards.
“Get her out of here,” I said coldly. “If thereās a kidnapping, call the cops. Don’t call me. Youāre wasting my time; Iām trying to buy a car.”
The salesman looked nauseous. “Mr. Weaverā¦ maybe you should take the money and go to the police? We can put the sale on hold…”
“No,” I said, my voice like iron. “Run the card.”
The transaction went through. As the machine beeped, the crowdās vitriol reached a fever pitch.
“His own mother is on her knees and he doesn’t care. Absolute scum.”
“All that money and heās still just a hollow shell of a man.”
“I hope those cars crash the moment he drives them off the lot.”
I turned to the room, a thin, polite smile on my face. “Anyone here is welcome to donate their own two million to the cause,” I said. “But as for me? Iām out.”
02
“Fine! Weāll do it! Itās just two millionāif we all chip in, we can save those boys!” someone shouted from the back. A murmur of agreement swept through the crowd.
“Iām in for twenty thousand!” a man in a tailored suit yelled.
“Iāll give ten!” another added.
The room was suddenly alive with the spirit of a lynch-mob-turned-charity-auction.
I let out a short, dry laugh. “You people are as gullible as you are self-righteous. But let me make one thing clear: If anyone in this room gives a single cent to this woman today, I will make it my personal mission to ensure your business is bankrupt by tomorrow. Try me.”
The room went deathly silent. In this city, my reputation preceded me. I had the capital and the connections to make that threat a reality.
“Right. Funās over,” I said, checking my watch. “I have a ribbon-cutting ceremony for a school I funded. Iād hate to be late.”
I walked toward the exit, the crowd parting like the Red Sea, their eyes burning holes in my back. But before I could reach my car, Tyler and his wife, Tiffany, blocked my path.
They weren’t alone. They had brought a swarm of reporters with them.
The moment they saw me, they threw themselves onto the pavement, sobbing hysterically.
“Logan! Please! Save our boys!”
Microphones were thrust into my face. Cameras flashed.
“Mr. Weaver, weāve heard you’re worth hundreds of millions. Why wonāt you pay a two-million-dollar ransom for your nephews?”
“Is it true your brother saved your life as a child? How can you turn your back on him now?”
“Is a luxury car really worth more to you than the lives of two innocent children?”
The questions pelted me like hail. I didn’t even try to push through.
“Are you done?” I asked, looking directly into the nearest lens. “Itās my money. I earned it. I spend it how I want. End of story.”
“But Mr. Weaver, youāre a known philanthropist,” a reporter pressed, her voice dripping with fake concern. “Youāve built schools in the Appalachian mountains. Are you really going to let your own family be killed?”
I leaned in closer to her mic. “Apparently so. I choose who gets my charity. And right now? I don’t feel charitable toward them.”
The reporters, sensing a viral moment, shifted gears. They started live-streaming, narrating my “villainy” to thousands of viewers in real-time.
Tyler and Tiffany continued their performance, their foreheads hitting the concrete as they bowed. “Logan, weāll do anything. Weāll be your servants for life. Just don’t let them kill Toby and Ben!”
By now, Tylerās forehead was actually bleeding. It was a hell of a show.
“If you have time to bleed on the sidewalk,” I said, looking down at him, “you have time to go to the bank and take out a mortgage. Or sell your cars. Maybe if you look pathetic enough, someone will give you a high-interest loan.”
Tyler froze for a second, his eyes flashing with something that wasn’t grief. Then the mask slipped back into place.
“I would sell everything!” he wailed. “But I have nothing! Our parents spent every cent they had putting you through school! Even my wedding money went to your tuition! Mom had to go door-to-door begging neighbors for loans just so I could get married, and weāre still paying them back!”
He looked at the cameras, his voice trembling. “Logan, if Iāve offended you, Iām sorry. Iāll change. Just pleaseā¦ don’t let them die.”
The crowd around us sighed in sympathy.
“Heās a monster. His family sacrificed everything for him and he won’t give back a penny.”
“Look at the poor guy. He has nothing because he gave it all to his brother.”
On the live-stream, the comments were a tidal wave of hate. Cancel him. Eat the rich. Hope he loses everything.
I didn’t get angry. I actually laughed.
“Youāre right,” I said, grinning at the cameras. “I am exactly what you think I am. Iām the ungrateful son. Iām the cold-hearted brother. I haven’t sent a dime home since the day I graduated. And guess what? Iām still not paying the ransom.”
03
The crowd turned feral. People started spitting toward me, throwing crumpled flyers and trash.
I calmly pulled out my phone and pointed it at them. “Keep it up. Iād love to see how many of you can afford the legal fees for an assault charge against me.”
“Who cares?” someone yelled. “People like you belong in jail anyway!”
A few people surged forward, fists clenched. Tyler and Tiffany jumped up, ostensibly to “protect” me, though they were really just positioning themselves for the cameras.
“Don’t hurt him! Heās still my brother!” Tyler cried. Then, leaning into my ear, he whispered, “Logan, just give us the money and this all goes away.”
“Not happening,” I whispered back.
Martha appeared again, her face wet with “old mother” tears. “Logan, I raised you. I gave you life. Just consider this two million your ‘repayment’ for all those years. Please.”
I looked at her, my smile fading. “Youāre right. I do owe a debt for my upbringing. But I won’t be paying it today.”
“Then when?” she screamed. “When they’re dead?”
My phone rang. It was my Chief of Staff.
“Logan, itās a disaster. The video is everywhere. The board is panicking, our stock is dipping, and the PR team is losing control. What do we do?”
The people nearby heard the panic in her voice and cheered.
“Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?”
“Lose it all! See how you like being broke like your brother!”
I paused, looked at the crowd, and then back at the camera. “Tell the team to schedule a press conference for tonight at eight. Iāll address everything then.”
I smiled. “The bigger the mess, the better the cleanup.”
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