Category: English

In my sophomore year, my webcomic blew up online. Fans quickly pieced together that the male lead was based on Kingsley University’s campus heartthrob, Jonathan. The online friend I had chatted with for ten years sent me a message: “The hero is based on me. Is the heroine based on you? Are you a girl?” Jonathan insisted on meeting me in person. So I set the date for three weeks later, the day the final chapter of my comic was scheduled to drop. But the day before we were supposed to meet, my roommate Emma confessed her feelings to Jonathan. She used the exact same grand gesture from the ending of my comic. And they got together. Emma gave me an apologetic smile. “Sorry for borrowing your comic’s idea! He and I will buy you dinner sometime.” Quietly, I pulled out my phone and texted Jonathan: “Emma isn’t me.” 01 When the message went through, Emma was still staring at me. “Or is there something you’ve wanted but couldn’t afford? I can have my boyfriend buy it for you.” My other two roommates couldn’t take it anymore. “We all know Sadie has a crush on Jonathan. How could you just steal her idea?” “Yeah, that’s not borrowing. That’s plagiarism.” Emma’s eyes welled with tears, but nobody comforted her. I had been serializing my comic Sleepless Hours since high school graduation. After starting college, I used my drawing tablet in our dorm all the time. So the three of them knew I was the author, and they promised to keep it a secret. In return, I frequently bought them gifts using my royalties. I just never expected the comic to go viral or for readers to figure out that Jonathan was the inspiration behind the male lead. Back then, Emma had asked me, “Sadie, you don’t actually like Jonathan, do you?” I hadn’t answered. She had laughed. “He’s been the golden boy since freshman year, top ten in the math department, endless girls chasing him. But you probably don’t understand guys like him. Good-looking, wealthy… even if he claims he’s single, he’s definitely got a crowd of girls he flirts with on the side.” Without thinking, I had cut her off. “He’s not like that.” They realized then that I was harboring a secret crush. Emma had gasped. “Oh my god, I’m totally shipping you two!” Then she badgered me until I let her see the ending I had drawn in advance. I hadn’t thought much of it, only reminding them to keep it strictly confidential. It wasn’t until tonight, when a roommate called me and told me to check the main campus group chat, that I realized what had happened. The group chat was flooded with videos taken from different angles. A radiant girl standing under the golden twilight on the East Quad, stepping right into the path of the handsome golden boy. She had orchestrated a grand, romantic, public confession. Just like the female lead in my comic. At the end of the video, Emma asked Jonathan with tear-brimmed eyes, “I’ve never done anything like this for anyone else. All my courage and love belong only to you. Will you be with me?” Those words were the exact dialogue from the comic’s finale. Jonathan didn’t wrap his arms around her like the hero in my drawing. He simply raised his hand and wiped away her tears. The crowd around them erupted into wild cheers. Everyone was chanting, “Say yes! Say yes!” And in the video, I heard his response crystal clear. He said, “Okay.” On May 20th, 2026, they became a couple. 02 “My campus goddess has been pining over someone else for two years?! I am heartbroken!” “Am I the only one who thinks her confession was insanely touching? Being so vulnerable about her past is usually something guys do!” “Plus one! They’re each other’s first love, oh my god!” “Is anyone else reading Sleepless Hours? Holy crap, it’s like the comic came to life!” In a group chat with thousands of students, messages flashed past at breakneck speed. Inside the dorm, Emma wiped her tears, her voice stubborn and defensive. “I just wanted to be brave for once in my life. Is that really a crime?” “Please don’t let this ruin our friendship, okay?” I held back my roomies who were ready to tear into her, looking at her with cold eyes. “You and I are done being friends.” Emma ran out of the room crying, not returning until curfew. The moment the lights went out, Jonathan replied. “Huh?” “Why would you think I mistook her for you?” I froze. His messages kept coming. “When Emma said those things showing how well she knew me, for a second I thought you had come to meet me early.” “But once she talked about her past, I knew it wasn’t you.” I stared at Jonathan’s words. The initial wave of anger and humiliation slowly drained away, replaced by an unbearable, burning shame. Still, I couldn’t swallow what I needed to say. I quickly typed: “Emma saw the ending of my comic. She copied the exact scene for her confession.” Afraid he wouldn’t believe me, I switched apps to send him the raw digital files. Before I could attach them, a notification popped up. Jonathan: “I know.” “She ran out of her dorm to find me earlier. She confessed that her idea came from her roommate’s comic.” 03 I canceled the upload and backed out to the chat window. Below his text, the typing indicator stayed active for a long time. I was typing too: “Everything she knows about you, the words that touched your heart… they all came from my comic…” I typed it out, then deleted it letter by letter. In that moment, I felt like a bitter villain trying to tear the main couple apart. Jonathan’s next block of text finally arrived. “I don’t care about the rest. All I’ve ever wanted is a devotion that belongs solely to me, pure and without ulterior motives. She told me…” It was a long paragraph describing exactly how Emma had touched his heart. It didn’t sound like his usual way of talking. For the past ten years, most of our conversations were about complex math problems, with occasional snippets of our daily lives. Whether it was a brutal exam question or a personal crisis, he always preferred giving conclusions, brushing over the process. Yet right now, he kept sending wall after wall of text. “Two years ago, you thanked me for letting you use me as a model for your comic.” “Now, I want to thank you. Because of you, my real-life heroine has walked into my story.” My fingers hovered over the screen, paralyzed. I realized then that he didn’t need anything I had to say. When the comic was at its peak, Jonathan had asked me: “I saw the comic. The hero is me, right? Is the heroine you? So you’re actually a girl?” My account had always used default settings from when I registered, showing no gender. I had told him that aside from gender, the heroine was the exact opposite of who I really was. He had replied, “Then I want to get to know you even more.” Now, through the cold glow of the screen, he told me: “I’m really lucky to have you as a friend. Under normal circumstances, I ought to buy you a proper dinner.” “But I just got a girlfriend. I can’t do anything that would make her jealous or insecure. So I think it’s better if we don’t meet tomorrow after all.” “What do you think?” 04 Jonathan wasn’t asking for my opinion. Nor was he suggesting we reschedule. He was simply saving me from total humiliation, preserving the last shred of my dignity. I thought to myself, staring at a phone in the dark really ruins your eyes. A hot, bitter tear slipped down my cheek and splashed onto the glass screen. I typed back: “Haha, yeah. Makes sense.” He sent a huge digital cash gift, with a note: I’m sorry. I tapped refund. “No need for that.” I quickly added: “It’s late. Get some sleep.” He replied: “Yeah.” We tacitly stopped saying goodnight like we used to. Intimate words like that didn’t belong between us anymore. I stared at the timestamp in the corner of the screen: 2026/05/21 01:17:26 AM. The thin thread connecting my life to his, built carefully over eleven years, snapped right here. Easily, absurdly, completely. I lay in bed, tossing and turning in a haze. The next morning, I barely scraped together enough energy to make it through my early lecture. With no afternoon classes, I went straight back to the dorm to sleep off the exhaustion. Voices leaking through my bed curtain woke me up. “When I filmed that video for you, I knew it would go viral, but wow!” “Emma, you are unbelievable! You actually bagged the math department’s unattainable prince!” “By the way, you went looking for him again last night, didn’t you? So? Did you guys kiss?” It was Emma’s friends visiting her room. Emma squeaked in a playful, coy tone, “Oh, stop it, we haven’t gone that far yet…” They giggled for a bit before heading out for dinner. The door clicked shut, leaving the room quiet once more. I opened my video app. Her confession was the very first video on my feed. Golden hour, a romantic speech, and the caption: Second year of loving him. My secret crush is finally over. 05 With the hype of an elite university and two insanely attractive leads, the video had crossed a million likes within twenty-four hours. Emma, who used to have barely two thousand followers, gained a hundred thousand overnight. As the video looped a second time, I hit pause and scrolled to the comments. Top comment: congratulations and heart emojis. Second top comment was a lengthy paragraph: “I rewatched this video a dozen times, and it feels EXACTLY like the confession scene from Sleepless Hours! The author dropped the final chapter at 6 AM today, but this video was posted yesterday. Dare I guess… you’re the author, aren’t you?! Are you bringing the comic’s love story into real life? I’m crying my eyes out T_T” Replies below it were filled with “Great analysis!” and “Keep her identity secret!” That comment had been up for eight hours. Emma hadn’t denied it. The top search tag in the comment section was: Sleepless Hours author successfully confesses. I logged into my author dashboard. My inbox was overflowing: “Author! @LittleEmmaIsTaken is you, right? This is so sweet!” “Begging for a sequel about your daily dating life ORZ” … I picked one comment and replied: “The author has never been in a relationship, so there won’t be a sequel.” I put my phone down. Silence reclaimed the room. In my comic, the female lead was named Aria. She was a ray of sunshine, raised in a loving, wealthy home. She wasn’t the smartest student, but everybody adored her. Optimistic and bright, she grew up blissfully alongside her childhood best friend, the male lead. I realized my mistake. I should never have confused fiction with reality. I tried doing math problems to distract myself. I stared at a complex proof for hours without a single breakthrough. In the past, I would have snapped a picture and sent it to Jonathan. Now… Irritated, I snapped my notebook shut, pulled out my phone, and doom-scrolled to force my brain into a dopamine hit. The next video was tagged at Kingsley University, recorded from a stealthy angle. Two figures were walking side by side down a tree-lined campus path. Even from behind, I recognized Jonathan instantly. In two years at the same college, I rarely bumped into him. Luck was never on my side. Even in large general education lectures, our schedules never overlapped. Except for one semester in Ordinary Differential Equations. Jonathan’s roommate liked to reserve seats in the second-to-last row by the window. So that was the only class where I sat in the very back row. For three hours every week, all I had to do was raise my head, and his back would be right there in my sight. In the video, his back was turned to the camera. The girl beside him, barely reaching his shoulder, reached out and gently brushed his hand. He pulled his hand back in surprise, but his ears flushed a brilliant crimson. 06 The camera zoomed in on his blushing ear. Big bold text flashed on screen: MY SHIP IS SO PURE AND BLUSHING! Caption: Ran into our campus’s newest power couple on their way to dinner! I tapped the creator’s profile. It belonged to one of Emma’s close classmates who frequently hung out in our dorm. I uninstalled the app. Over the next few weeks, I forced myself into my old routine. Studying hard, eating, sleeping. Life went on. Except occasionally, I would overhear classmates gushing during breaks. “I saw Jonathan bringing his girlfriend to class this morning. She’s even prettier in person than in the video!” “Total power couple vibes! So sweet!” “I heard he bought each of her best friends a Bvlgari necklace. Can you please find a boyfriend like that for my sake?” “Good luck finding another Jonathan!” I kept my head down, still wrestling with that unsolved problem. I wasn’t in a rush. I knew every problem had an answer eventually. Class ended, and I packed my bag quickly to leave. “Move, move, I’m starving!” Someone bumped into me from behind. Not hard, but the loose scratch paper tucked inside my notebook scattered across the floor. The guy apologized profusely. His friend waiting at the door stepped over to help pick them up. “Sorry about that, my roommate’s a klutz.” My heart skipped a beat. As I bent down, my hand brushed against his. I snatched my hand back instantly. He picked up the paper, his voice filled with surprise. “You’re working on this proof too?” I forced myself to look up into Jonathan’s eyes. In my original daydreams, our first real meeting would be under the golden sunset on the East Quad. Grand, romantic, and under the open sky. Not this clumsy, awkward mess. Yet the moment Jonathan saw my face, his eyes lit up. “Sadie! It’s you.” “Did you solve it yet?” 07 I froze. “You know who I am?” Jonathan smiled, sunlight filtering through the window and catching in his eyes. “First lecture of Honors Math freshman year. That brutal problem the TA gave us to scare everyone? You were the only one who solved it on the spot. Trust me, half the department knows who you are.” I had no idea his eyes had ever rested on me. “We… had the same math class?” Jonathan gave a helpless chuckle, pointing to the guy next to him. “He’s my roommate. He can never wake up for morning lectures, and my math class was in the afternoon, so… you get the idea.” The roommate rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Until the professor caught us in week three.” “Ah. I see.” “So, Sadie, did you solve this proof? I’ve been stuck on it for days…” Before he could finish, a sharp, piercing voice cut him off from behind. “What are you two doing?!” I didn’t turn around. Jonathan gave me an apologetic look as he handed back my scratch paper. “Sorry, my girlfriend’s here. Might be a misunderstanding.” I took the paper. Emma was already sprinting over like a storm. His roommate quickly chimed in, “Hey, Emma, I swear Jonathan didn’t say a word to any other girl! He was just helping me clean up my mess!” Emma glared between us, suspicious and insecure, before wrapping her arms tightly around Jonathan’s arm. “Let me take you to dinner, come on, let’s go!” Jonathan was dragged forward, turning back to nod apologetically at me. Then he pulled a chocolate bar from his pocket and handed it to Emma. “Eat this first, or your blood sugar will drop again.” His roommate trailed behind them, tossing a quick explanation my way. “Don’t mind her. He spoils her way too much.” As they walked off, Jonathan’s indulgent voice drifted back through the breeze: “You get jealous so easily. What would you do if you weren’t with me…” I took the stairs on the opposite side of the building. I remembered chatting with Jonathan back in high school. He had said he hated chocolate, even though it was the gift he received most often. I had told him I had never even tasted real chocolate before. Much later, he sent me a photo. In the picture were various unwrapped chocolates, each with handwritten notes describing the flavor and texture. He had written: Tasted them all for you for now. You should still try them yourself when you get the chance. Who knows, you might actually like it. So… was chocolate actually sweet? By the time I reached the bottom floor, my phone buzzed. A message from Emma: “I’m begging you, have some self-respect. Stop throwing yourself at him.” The midday sun beat down relentlessly. I shut my eyes tightly. Block. Delete. Then I stepped out into the light. Jonathan. If loving someone means loving everything about them, does hating their choices mean hating them too?

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On my birthday, Wes insisted on buying me flowers. Knowing his family struggled financially, I deliberately picked a modest $15 bouquet. That very same afternoon, a massive delivery of red roses arrived for my roommate, filling nearly half our room. When she picked up her phone to express her thanks, a man’s voice filtered softly through the speaker. “I am glad you like them.” The tone was lazy and warm, ending on a slightly upturned, husky trail. The entire dorm erupted into teasing squeals, but I froze in place. That voice belonged to Wes. 1 At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. However, I had always been hyper-sensitive to sound. Wes had a distinct timbre, especially the subtle, rising pitch at the end of his sentences. Leah hung up the phone and offered a casual explanation to the room. “The flowers were from my fiancé.” A sudden hush fell over the room. Leah had been chasing the star athlete from the neighboring department for over three years. Where had a fiancé suddenly materialized from? Leah shrugged nonchalantly. “It is an arranged marriage between our families. He is handsome and wealthy enough, but neither of us wanted to settle down with just one person before getting hitched. So, we made a deal: until the wedding, we each play the field.” She plucked a single stem from the bouquet, her tone breezy. “He took on a new girlfriend earlier this year. We agreed that whatever he buys for her, he has to compensate me with a version worth a hundred times the price.” In the lower right corner of the flower wrapper, a price tag remained partially unpeeled. $1,500. Leah flicked the tag with her manicured fingernail, letting out a sharp scoff. “Tsk. Imagine giving a girl a paltry $15 bouquet. That poor girl must be completely brainless, suffering alongside a wealthy heir pretending to be broke, actually believing she found true love.” Her voice held no pity, only cruel amusement. With those words, her gaze drifted toward the stems in my arms. “Audrey, you got flowers too, didn’t you? The petals do not look very fresh, though. How much were they?” Not a dollar more, not a dollar less. They were exactly fifteen dollars. 2 In truth, those were not the flowers I had originally chosen. Earlier that day, as I passed a local florist, a gorgeous arrangement in the display window caught my eye. Soft strawberry almond spray roses paired with delicate white violets, fluffy and light, like a cloud dipped in sunset glow. I fell in love with them at first sight. The clerk informed me the bouquet cost $60. Wes had taken my hand, looking into my eyes with a tender smile. “Audrey, it is your birthday. If you love them, let us get them. I still have a bit of cash left.” He hesitated briefly before adding in a soft voice, “Though, after buying these, I might have to live on instant noodles for the next month. But do not worry about me. Your happiness matters more than anything.” I knew how difficult his life supposedly was. His mother had passed away early, and his father was buried under gambling debts. Nearly every cent Wes earned went toward clearing those loans. We had met during our senior internships. He arrived later than I did, frequently approaching me with questions about work. As the days went by, those questions turned into a quiet, earnest pursuit. He was exactly my type, modest yet brimming with quiet ambition. So, I accepted his confession. I thought we were two kindred spirits, working tirelessly to build a life together in a cold, massive city. How could I ever bear to let him eat instant noodles for a month? So, as much as I adored those strawberry almond roses, I pulled Wes away from the shop. We stood at a late-night street stall, bargaining for a long time before settling on a simple bouquet of cheap alstroemeria. When he paid, Wes looked deeply moved. The warm streetlamp cast a soft glow across his features. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, his voice thick with emotion. “Audrey, you suffer so much just by being with me. I promise I will work hard to give you everything you deserve.” At the time, I threw my arms around him, my heart overflowing with sweetness. I had no idea that while holding me in his arms, he was quietly placing an order for another girl, paying a hundred times the price. Nor did I know that his surname belonged to the Kensington family, the prominent dynasty behind the very conglomerate where I was interning. 3 I did not linger in the dorm. My internship location was far from campus, requiring a two-hour commute each way. To save time, Wes and I had rented a modest apartment near the office. By the time I carried my files back to the apartment, it was already nine at night. The mouth-watering aroma of home-cooked food rushed out to meet me as I opened the door. A small cake sat in the center of the dining table. Wes emerged from the kitchen carrying two hot dishes, offering me a bright smile. “You came back right on time. The food is freshly cooked, just waiting for you.” I had always been an avoidant personality type. On the subway ride over, I had envisioned confronting Wes, demanding to know why he lied, screaming at him through tears before walking away for good. Yet, seeing him fussing around the apartment for my sake, I felt only an overwhelming sense of numbness. Why would a billionaire heir squeeze into a tiny, cramped rental, meticulously acting the part of a destitute soul? The candles were lit, and a party hat was placed on my head. I clasped my hands together, closed my eyes, and made a silent wish. When I opened my eyes, Wes was staring intently at his phone. The pale light of the screen illuminated his face, catching a subtle, lingering smile at the corner of his lips. Moments later, my phone vibrated with a notification from the dorm group chat. Leah had posted a screenshot of a bank transfer for $2,500. She wrote: My fiancé just sent me more money. This time, it is to cover the cake he bought for that girl. Honestly, he is celebrating someone else’s birthday and still remembers me. Isn’t he worried his little girlfriend will get jealous? Below her message, my other roommates flooded the chat with praise, calling her the absolute queen of the relationship. My eyes remained fixed on the profile picture in the screenshot. It was a shot of a man’s back on a beach, his white shirt billowing in the sea breeze. I was the one who had taken that photo for Wes. “What are you staring at so intently?” Wes reached over, lightly smudging a dab of cream onto my forehead. His eyes darkened as he leaned closer, his voice dropping into a raspy whisper. “Audrey, let us move to the bedroom, alright?” We had been together for six months. We held hands and kissed, but we had never taken that final step. I was afraid of pain, and he had never forced me, always holding me tightly through the night while quietly enduring his own restraint. Tonight, I had originally intended to give myself to him completely. After buying the flowers, I had even stopped by a convenience store to buy a box of ultra-thin protection. It was sitting right on the entryway table. However, the thought that Wes was Leah’s fiancé made my stomach turn with violent revulsion. I pushed him away, turned around, and began packing my belongings. Coincidentally, our monthly lease expired tomorrow. “I am moving back to the dorms. I will not be renewing the lease.” He froze slightly. “Why the sudden decision to move back? Audrey, if you are unhappy, can you tell me why?” I ignored him, continuing to fold my clothes into my suitcase. Raised as a spoiled heir accustomed to being catered to, his patience quickly ran thin. “Audrey, your mood has been off ever since you got home tonight. I spent the entire evening cooking, and you have not taken a single bite. Is this all because I did not buy you that $60 bouquet? When did you become so materialistic, throwing a tantrum just because you did not get a present?” How fascinating that in an economic downturn, opting out of a sixty-dollar purchase could get someone labeled as materialistic. I raised my head and met his gaze dead-on. “Wes, is there anything you are keeping from me?” He went still for a second, then shook his head smoothly. “No. Nothing at all.” 4 I did not rip off the mask right then and there. Kensington Corp belonged to his family, and it was the top firm in my field nationwide. I had worked as an intern for six months, fighting fiercely for a full-time offer. My team lead had quietly assured me that my evaluations were stellar, and my spot was practically guaranteed. Yet on the day the final hiring list was posted, I searched from top to bottom three separate times, unable to find my name anywhere. I walked into my team lead’s office to ask for an explanation. With a conflicted expression, she pulled me into a private breakroom and lowered her voice. “Audrey, did you happen to offend someone higher up?” I looked at her in confusion. “What do you mean?” “Your name was originally on the approved list. Yesterday, a high-level executive made a personal call and had your name crossed off directly.” Stepping out of the breakroom, I saw Wes sitting at his intern desk. Naturally, his name was not on the list either. A wealthy heir interning was merely a casual game to pass the time. He offered me a paper cup of warm tea, speaking in a soothing, gentle tone. “Audrey, it is alright. There are plenty of great companies out there, you do not have to stay at Kensington. Take your time searching. With your talent, you will shine anywhere.” My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was the dorm group chat again. Leah had directly tagged me. @Audrey, Kensington posted their full-time offers today, right? Did you make the cut? My fiancé’s girlfriend was interning there too. I do not know if you know her, but she definitely did not get the job. I told my fiancé before that outside flings are fine for fun, but no outside woman steps foot into the family firm. It was set in stone, but my fiancé wiped her name out with a single word. Isn’t he obedient? My fingers tightened around my phone until my knuckles turned stark white. Wes knew how desperately I wanted this job. He knew how many nights I had slept on the office sofa just to refine project proposals. He knew my grandmother was waiting in our rural hometown for me to secure a stable job so I could bring her to the city for medical care. Yet with a single casual sentence, he erased half a year of my relentless effort. Then he turned around, put on a mask of complete innocence, and stood in front of me offering tender consolation. The hot tea in my paper cup steamed softly, scalding my fingertips with a sharp sting. Unable to contain it any longer, I grabbed the hot cup and splashed the liquid straight into his face. “Wes, are you out of your mind?!” The entire open-plan office fell so silent that only the hum of the air conditioner remained. Wes stood stunned for two seconds. He pulled out a tissue, wiped the tea from his skin, and forced down his rising temper as he looked at me. “Audrey, I know you are upset about the job, but you need to maintain your professional composure in public. Once we get home, you can throw whatever tantrum you want. You can hit me or yell at me. Let me take you out for dinner tonight, alright? Please stop being angry.” His tone remained impossibly gentle, as though he were not the very person orchestrating my downfall behind my back. Since I was not getting the job anyway, there was no need to maintain any professional courtesy in this building. I scooped up a heavy stack of printed project files from the desk and slammed them hard against his chest. “We are broken up.” Without another word, I threw my bag over my shoulder and walked out. Wes’s voice chased after me, heavy with suppressed anger. “Audrey, are you really going to hold a grudge forever just because I did not buy those strawberry almond roses? Throwing this kind of temper at me… with such fragile emotional control, it is no wonder the company did not keep you! You need to reflect on your own issues!” Stepping out of the corporate tower, torrential rain was pouring from the sky. The path toward the subway station was already flooded with deep water. In the past, whenever it rained along this road, Wes would crouch down and lift me onto his back. Audrey loves wearing white sneakers, I cannot let Audrey’s shoes get dirty. Back then, I would wrap one arm tightly around his neck, holding an umbrella high over both our heads with the other, chatting happily about our future. Now, heavy raindrops slammed into the murky puddles, shattering the water into countless tiny ripples. I rolled up my pant legs and stepped straight into the freezing water. Rain washed over my face, cool and damp. I tilted my head toward the gray sky, letting out a long, slow breath. My grandmother had always taught me that one must know when to hold on, and when to let go. A breakup was nothing to despair over. Cutting one’s losses in time was all that mattered. Everything would be fine. 5 I moved back into the dormitory. Leah owned a private apartment near campus, but upon hearing I had returned, she moved back into the dorm as well. Suddenly, she became exceedingly chatty. “My fiancé has been in a terrible mood lately. That girl suddenly broke up with him out of nowhere. My fiancé was just playing around, but getting abruptly dumped while he was still entertained threw him for a loop. Since he is my man, he came to vent to me, so I just had to bear with it.” Right as she finished speaking, Leah’s phone rang. A weary male voice echoed through the room, the ending tone trailing upward with a subtle rise. “I am planning a vacation to Europe. Is there anything you want me to bring back?” Leah did not answer immediately, letting out a light chuckle instead. “Why the sudden trip to Europe? Done trying to coax your little girlfriend back?” “If she wants to throw a fit, let her. Once her emotions settle down in a few weeks, I will go back and calm her down.” Leah toyed with the luxury watch on her wrist, casting a deliberate glance in my direction. “Aren’t you afraid that by the time you come back, she will be completely done with you?” “No. She loves me very much.” Through the speaker, the man’s tone sounded impossibly certain. “She takes relationships very seriously, unlike you. If you do not tell me what you want, I will just pick something out for you randomly.” After the call ended, Leah strolled over to my desk. Crossing her arms, she looked down at me with a sweet, mocking smile. “Audrey, my fiancé is heading to Europe. Is there anything you want? I can have him pick it up for you.” Before I could answer, she let out a sigh. “Ah, forget it. My fiancé is quite lazy. He never bothers with other people’s requests, he only brings things back for me.” No matter how detached I tried to be, I could clearly hear the boastful provocation in her words. The feud between Leah and me had taken root long ago. During our freshman year, both of us entered a national entrepreneurship competition. She claimed to have hired top industry mentors, boasting that her entry would easily secure first place. When the results were posted, my name sat at the top for first prize, while she took second. From that day on, her eyes held a constant layer of hostility whenever she looked at me. Later, when I was voted the face of the campus autumn fashion showcase, her resentment only deepened. However, since she rarely stayed on campus back then, our paths seldom crossed, and I simply let things slide. Listening to her sharp taunts now, I raised my eyes to meet hers. “Your fiancé certainly treats you well. It is just a pity that despite being so good to you, he was still on his knees elsewhere, begging another girl to stay.” Leah’s face turned pale. “What nonsense are you talking about?” “Didn’t you say he had a girlfriend? Between a couple, kissing and holding each other is completely normal, isn’t it? What, you can’t even stomach that, yet you still want to play the dignified wife?” A dull thud echoed behind me as a luxury watch was slammed onto the desk. Wealthy people certainly had money to burn, throwing around a six-figure timepiece the moment they lost their temper. Yet her anger evaporated just as quickly. By evening, she returned to the dorm in high spirits, eager to share her news with the room. “Guess who I just ran into outside the library? Elyes! He was standing right under the streetlight waiting for the shuttle, tall, broad-shouldered, with impossibly long legs. I stared for so long I could barely move my feet. I am definitely going to win him over.” Elyes was the guy Leah had been pursuing since freshman year, the one she remained utterly obsessed with. Our roommates crowded around her to look at the stealthy photo she had taken. Meanwhile, I sat at my desk, tapping open a message on my phone screen. It was from Elyes. Audrey, I heard you moved back to the dorms. Are you free to grab dinner sometime? I was not particularly close with Elyes. Back when I worked a part-time job at the campus dining hall, he used to frequent my station. Unlike the typical dining staff whose hands shook while serving, I always served generous portions of meat. Over time, we exchanged contact information, and he would casually message me about daily menu updates. Once I started my internship and began dating Wes, our communication naturally faded away. Until today, when he suddenly sent this message out of the blue. After a moment of thought, I politely declined. Sorry, I am quite busy sending out resumes lately. Elyes did not push further, simply replying: No rush. Whenever you are free for a meal, just let me know. The following days passed without incident. I shuttled between various corporate interviews across the city. Wes never reached out to me once. The last message in our chat history was from several days ago: Audrey, I know losing the offer was hard on you. I am giving you space to vent. I never replied. I assumed we would never cross paths again. Until one afternoon, when an urgent call arrived from my hometown. It was our neighbor. “Audrey, I passed by your yard today and saw your grandmother collapsed on the ground! I couldn’t wake her up no matter what I tried! I called an ambulance to take her to the county hospital, can you come back right away?” I booked an overnight train ticket and rushed back home immediately. The doctor diagnosed her with an aortic dissection, stating that emergency surgery was required right away. The cost was roughly twenty thousand dollars, and a deposit had to be paid before the procedure. My grandmother was a simple melon farmer with virtually no savings. Even combining my work-study funds, I was nowhere near twenty thousand dollars. Pride means nothing when a human life is on the line. So, sitting in the cold hospital hallway, I dialed Wes’s number. I wanted to borrow the money from him. After a long wait, the call finally went through. His voice sounded lazy, tinged with a faint, amused smile. “Finally cooled off? You are finally willing to call me?” I kept my voice low. “Wes, I need to borrow some money from you. Twenty thousand dollars. My grandmother is severely ill…” Before I could finish my sentence, he cut me off abruptly. “Audrey, are you joking with me? You know my family situation, where would I ever get that kind of money? I just started a new part-time job and I am on the clock right now. My coworkers are calling me, I have to go.” In the background, someone was indeed shouting for him, mentioning that the private yacht was about to set sail and telling him to hurry aboard. He offered a brief reply and hung up the phone. He blocked every word I had left to say. I tried dialing his number again. At first, the line was busy, and then his phone was switched off entirely. At that exact moment, the dorm group chat popped up with a new image. Leah had shared a photo of an exquisite emerald bracelet. Is it pretty? My fiancé won it for me at an auction. Imperial green jade, a rare royal collection piece valued at eight hundred thousand dollars. In the photo, the emerald gleamed with a deep, translucent luster, as clear as moonlight caught in ice. I sat alone on a bench in the hospital corridor, the sharp, sterile stench of disinfectant filling my lungs. In this world, people live in vastly different realities. Someone could spend eight hundred thousand dollars without blinking an eye, while someone else was driven to utter desperation over twenty thousand. I looked through the glass window at my grandmother lying motionless on the hospital bed. I remembered telling her not long ago that I had found a man who loved me deeply, that we were going to work hard together toward a bright future, and that I would bring him home to meet her after graduation. It turned out my eyes had been completely blind. Just as I pulled out my phone to search for alternative ways to raise the funds, a tall figure appeared at the far end of the corridor. It was Elyes. Usually immaculately groomed, he looked noticeably windblown and travel-weary. “My academic advisor mentioned there was an emergency at your home, so I took the liberty of coming down,” he said softly. “Is there anything I can do to help? Whether you need funds or assistance, just say the word.”

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1 My wife was supposed to have died in a tragic plane crash, leaving behind a brief final note. She claimed she didn’t want to be a burden, telling me to take our child and start over without her. I was sobbing uncontrollably when I suddenly heard a voice inside my head. It belonged to my daughter, who was supposed to be completely non-verbal. Dad, stop crying. Mom isn’t dead at all. She is a complete piece of trash. She cheated on you with her high school sweetheart, and they both faked her death to flee the country for a tropical honeymoon. I know exactly where her secret stash is hidden. Before she gets back, let’s drain her accounts, grab the money, and run. We’ll be set for life! The hallway outside the morgue stretched out endlessly under the harsh, blinding glow of fluorescent lights. Ellie’s business partner handed me a crumpled slip of paper. Her last words. Take the baby. Start over. I clutched the note, my fingers trembling violently. Just thirty minutes ago, I had received the phone call. Ellie’s flight had gone down. No survivors. I had rushed to the hospital, only to be met with cold, solemn faces telling me to accept my grief. And now, even in death, she was passing a message through an intermediary, telling me to rebuild my life. Tears dripped onto the paper, smudging the ink line by line. My father stood beside me, his hand on my shoulder, eyes rimmed with red. “Gavin, please. Don’t do this to yourself. You still have your baby to live for.” “Dad, I just need a moment alone.” The hallway fell quiet as he stepped away. I slumped against the cold wall, slowly sliding down until I was crouching with my face buried in my knees. That was when I heard a childish, high-pitched voice speaking with a chilling composure that didn’t belong to a kid. Dad, stop crying. Mom isn’t dead at all. My entire body froze. She’s a piece of trash. She cheated on you with her first love, and the two of them ran off overseas to live it up on a honeymoon. I snapped my head up. The corridor was utterly empty. There wasn’t a single soul around. I thought grief was making me lose my mind. Taking a deep breath, I tried to push myself up. The voice returned, clearer this time. It’s me, Dad. Mom told you to take me and start over because she was terrified you’d claim a share of her estate. She thinks you have no clue how much money she really has. My knuckles turned white as I clutched my pants. This wasn’t a hallucination. The voice was echoing straight inside my head. I stared down at my lap, my lips quivering. “Baby?” Yep, it’s me. Stop crying for a second and hear me out. Mom never boarded that plane. She paid top dollar to forge the passenger manifest. Tristan is her ex. They’ve been secretly back together for six months. She wanted you to abort me not because she cared about your struggles, but because she didn’t want another heir cutting into her fortune. A violent buzz echoed in my brain. Check the hidden compartment in the study. Right under the third floorboard. Three account books, two USB drives, and a one-way ticket to the Maldives under Tristan’s name. Go see for yourself. My fingernails dug deep into my palms. There is also a bank card loaded with twenty million dollars, registered under Tristan’s name. She used him to offload her assets. Dad, that’s our money now. Let’s spend it. I know where all her secret vaults are. Before she gets back, we take everything and vanish. Our future will be completely secured! I didn’t utter a word. Footsteps clattered down the far end of the hallway. Ellie’s partner, Vivian, was walking back toward me. “Gavin, are you holding up alright? You know what Ellie wanted. As for the baby… you need to make a decision soon.” Her eyes brimmed with gentle concern, yet beneath it lay an unspoken push. I stood up, tears still glistening on my cheeks. I looked down at my stomach, placing a hand over it. “Thank you, Vivian. I’ll think about it.” She nodded softly and turned to leave. Nia’s voice floated back into my mind, smooth and unhurried. Yeah, keep that exact look on your face. Dad, let’s destroy her. Standing in the dimly lit hallway, I rested my hand firmly over my bump, tuning into her thoughts. “Baby.” Yeah? “Did you say she went to the Maldives?” Mm-hmm. Two tickets, both booked under Tristan’s name. “When is she coming back?” In two weeks. I wiped my face clean of tears. Two weeks. That was more than enough time. When I got home from the hospital, I went straight into the study. Behind the bookshelf, Nia’s voice sounded coolly. There’s a safe. I hadn’t even known a safe existed in our house. It was built into the wall, secured with a six-digit combination lock. The code is Tristan’s birthday. June 15, 1992. 920615. I paused for a second. 920615. I typed in the digits. The heavy lock clicked open. There wasn’t much inside. A bank passbook, two thick stacks of cash, and a thick kraft paper envelope. I pulled out the envelope first and opened it. A stack of photographs fell out. Tristan walking along a sandy beach. Tristan sipping coffee by a window. Tristan smiling warmly into the camera. The shots were taken from various angles, looking almost candid, almost secret. Tucked beneath the stack was a folded sheet of paper. Unfolding it, I recognized Ellie’s sleek handwriting. Wait for me, Tristan. Just four words. The strokes were heavy, pressed so hard into the paper that the back was deeply indented. She had written it with fierce conviction. I slipped the photos and the note back into the envelope without altering a thing. Next, I opened the passbook. The holder’s name was Tristan. Every single deposit exceeded fifty thousand dollars, transferred regularly from Ellie under the label “Living Expenses.” The most recent transaction was from a month ago: a flat one hundred thousand dollars. Dad, there’s more stuff on her laptop, Nia chimed in. I sat down at the desk. Ellie’s laptop required both biometric verification and a password. My fingerprint cleared the first security check. The second check was a six-digit code. 920615. I entered it. The desktop loaded instantly. Check the Recycle Bin. The bin icon showed empty. I opened it anyway, but nothing was listed. She cleared it before leaving, Nia noted. But clearing it doesn’t mean it’s permanently gone. Follow my instructions and restore the files. I executed my daughter’s step-by-step instructions. Ten minutes later, over three hundred deleted files reappeared in the bin. I opened the folder labeled Chat Logs. Conversations with “Tristan” over the past three months. I clicked on the top thread. Ellie: Tickets are locked in for the 15th next month. Tristan: Are you sure he won’t suspect anything? Ellie: Not a chance. I told him it’s just a business trip. Tristan: What about the baby? Have you talked to him yet? Ellie: Not yet. It’ll be easier for him to accept once I “disappear.” Tristan: How are you going to pull off “disappearing”? Ellie: I’ve got it all arranged. Don’t panic when it happens, just follow my lead. I scrolled down line by line. Every phrase felt like a sharp needle, stabbing lightly but relentlessly. Tristan asked, When are you going to come clean with him? She replied, No need to come clean. I’ll make sure he walks away on his own. Tristan said, I’m worried he’ll make a scene. She replied, He won’t. He has no spine. I snapped the laptop shut. Dad, there’s another card hidden in the false bottom of the box, Nia reminded me. I felt around the interior of the safe until my fingers caught on a small groove. Sure enough, a plastic card popped out. “Whose card is this?” I asked silently. Tristan’s. It’s under his name, but the money is Mom’s. She stashed part of her wealth with him before leaving so you wouldn’t track it down. I held the card between my fingers, examining it carefully. “How much is on it?” Over four million. I pocketed the card in silence. My legs felt numb when I tried to stand, forcing me to lean against the edge of the desk for support. Dad, aren’t you going to the funeral home? Nia asked softly. “Yeah.” I put on a plain black shirt and didn’t bother fixing my messy hair or face. In the mirror, the man looking back had swollen red eyes and a deathly pale face. I looked every bit the grieving widower. Good. I wouldn’t even have to pretend. When I arrived at the memorial center, reporters were already waiting outside. Ellie’s “belongings” were brought out in a silver suitcase: a few casual outfits, a leather wallet, and her passport. My hands trembled as the staff member passed the suitcase to me. I recognized the clothes inside. There was a grey cashmere sweater I had bought her last winter. She had told me back then, “This is way too expensive, you should return it.” I had smiled and replied, “It looks beautiful on you.” She had kept it, but she had never worn it once. Now, that very sweater had taken a fake trip around the airport with a woman who faked her death, only to be delivered right back to my hands. I cradled the suitcase, tears splashing onto the metallic surface. Reporters crowded around, shoving microphones toward my face. “Mr. Lin, is there anything you’d like to say to your late wife?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My father supported me from the side, tears streaming down his own face. Relatives whispered around us, sighing in pity. “Poor guy… left all alone with a child on the way.” I doubled over, sobbing so hard I could barely stand. By evening, my picture was plastered across the local news headlines. Grieving Husband Collapses at Memorial for Finance Executive Killed in Air Disaster. When we returned home, I shut the door, tossed the suitcase onto the floor, and slid down against the wooden panel. Nia’s voice bubbled up in my mind. Dad, you really put on a show today. Careful, or your eyes are gonna swell shut. I let out a long sigh. “I was genuinely heartbroken. That cashmere sweater set me back over twelve hundred dollars.” …Dad, you were crying over a sweater? “It was my hard-earned money! Twelve hundred bucks! If I knew she’d never wear it, I wouldn’t have spent a dime.” Nia sounded entirely speechless. Tomorrow, we start hunting down Mom’s secret stash. Her total assets aren’t just twelve hundred, they’re at least eight million. Over the next few days, I put on the performance of a devastated, broken husband, making sure nobody doubted my grief. I didn’t even need to force the emotions; reading through Ellie’s text messages with Tristan was enough to keep me miserable. On the third day, Ellie’s business partner, Vivian, came by the house. She sat on the living room sofa, looking solemn and heavy-hearted. I wore a wrinkled hoodie, hadn’t washed my hair in days, and my eyes were swollen to slits. “Gavin… about Ellie… we are all deeply saddened. But you know what her final wishes were. You need to let go. Holding on like this will ruin your health.” “I know,” I murmured, keeping my head low, voice shaking. “I’ve arranged everything with the hospital. The top specialist will handle the procedure. It’s completely safe.” I raised my head to look at her, my eyes bloodshot. “Vivian, can you give me a little more time to think?” She scrutinized me for a moment, sighed softly, and stood up to leave. The instant the front door clicked shut, Nia’s voice rang out clearly. Dad, she’s pushing you to abort me because Mom instructed her to. As long as I’m here, you’re entitled to a share of the estate. If I’m gone, you get kicked out with nothing. “I know.” Then why didn’t you put her in her place just now? “The timing isn’t right yet.” I stood up and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. The man in the mirror was pale, exhausted, and covered in tear stains. I pulled a bottle of moisturizer from the drawer, tested a drop on my hand, and then set it back down. Not yet. By the fourth day, I began making phone calls. “Hello, Ms. Scott? This is Gavin, Ellie’s husband… Yes, I’d like to consult you regarding marital assets.” Ms. Scott was one of the sharpest family law attorneys in the city. Her voice lowered over the receiver. “Mr. Lin, is it convenient for you to speak right now?” “It is. My wife passed away.” Silence stretched over the line for two seconds. “…My condolences.” I recited a detailed list of every asset registered under Ellie’s name that I could track. When I finished, Ms. Scott asked, “Are you certain these are all of them?” “I’m not. That’s why I’m calling you.” After hanging up, I contacted financial advisors and bank representatives. I didn’t know the access codes to most of Ellie’s private accounts, but Nia did. Dad, her off-grid account at Grand Trust uses Tristan’s birthday as the PIN. Call them directly and request an emergency balance inquiry. They’ll release it to the legal spouse upon verification. I picked up my phone, my fingers hovering briefly. “What else?” Her Porsche was bought on a loan. Don’t touch it, let her credit take the hit. The suburban house is under her mother’s name, so forget about that one. But the downtown apartment was bought after marriage, and it’s solely under her name. You own half of that. “What’s it worth?” Market value is around five hundred thousand. List it for a quick sale at forty thousand below market. It’ll sell within a week. I took notes as she spoke, filling seventeen items in my phone’s memo app. Stocks, mutual funds, savings, real estate, each paired with precise instructions on how to liquidate them. On the fifth day, I went to Ellie’s corporate office to pack up her “personal belongings.” Vivian escorted me into the spacious office. As the door closed, I could hear employees whispering outside. “Poor Mr. Lin, coming all the way here to pack up her things while expecting…” I stood in front of Ellie’s mahogany desk for a long moment before picking up a framed picture. It was our wedding photo. In it, she had her arm wrapped around my waist, and I was beaming at the camera. I placed the frame into a cardboard box, letting a fresh tear fall. Vivian stood near the doorway, hesitating. “Gavin… if you need any help at all, don’t hesitate to ask.” “Thank you, Vivian,” I wiped my eyes. “Can I stay in here alone for a few minutes?” “Of course.” Once the door clicked shut, I knelt down, pulled the photo frame out of the box, and popped open the back panel. There was nothing hidden inside. I wasn’t actually looking for anything. I just wanted to confirm that she hadn’t bothered to leave behind a single genuine memory. I took only three things from her office: our wedding photo, a five-year-old worn leather notebook, and a fountain pen she never used. I carried the box home and set it beside my bed. On the evening of the sixth day, I lay in bed, reviewing my phone memo from top to bottom. Six million dollars. That was the total sum Nia had calculated. Dad, are you nervous? “Not at all.” Your heart rate is at a hundred and ten. “…Maybe a little.” Don’t be. Everything you’re doing is completely legal. Marital assets left behind by a ‘deceased’ spouse are inherited by the surviving partner. Her faking a plane crash is her crime; you liquidating assets is your right. The two don’t conflict. I rolled onto my side, resting a hand gently over my stomach. “Nia, thank you.” Silence stretched for two seconds. Dad, don’t thank me yet. Wait until I help you win this entire game. Seven days ago, I was weeping in a funeral hall. Seven days later, every liquid dollar under Ellie’s name was officially en route to accounts she couldn’t touch. Nia’s voice echoed in my mind, relaxed and steady. Dad, the Sinclairs are coming tomorrow. “I know.” Are you ready for them? I stroked my bump gently. “What do you think?” Early the next morning, Tristan’s family showed up right on schedule. At ten o’clock sharp, the doorbell rang. I peeked through the peephole. Tristan’s parents were standing outside alongside a middle-aged woman in a sharp business suit, holding a leather briefcase. I opened the door. I didn’t need to fake my exhaustion; over the past eight days, I had lost nearly ten pounds. “Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair?” Tristan’s father forced a sympathetic smile. “Gavin, son. We came to check on you. We were worried about you managing all alone.” He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. Mrs. Sinclair slipped in behind him, and the suit-clad woman followed, pulling the door shut behind them. I closed the latch and remained standing in the entryway. Mr. Sinclair took a seat on the sofa, surveying the room before letting out a dramatic sigh. “Gavin, we heard about Ellie. It’s such a tragedy… a true shock.” He dabbed at the corner of his eyes, though there wasn’t a single tear. Mrs. Sinclair sat beside him and cleared her throat. “Ellie was always so good to our family. She even sent us monthly living allowances…” I nodded slowly. “She certainly was generous. Three thousand dollars a month for three straight years. That comes out to over a hundred thousand dollars.” Mr. Sinclair’s smile stiffened for a fraction of a second before recovering. “Yes, well, she was a dutiful girl…” “Extremely dutiful,” I replied smoothly. “If people didn’t know better, they’d think you two were her actual in-laws.” The living room instantly fell dead silent. Mr. Sinclair’s mouth hovered open. Mrs. Sinclair’s expression hardened. The woman in the suit cleared her throat and opened her briefcase. “Mr. Lin, we’re here today to discuss a prior commitment made by Ms. Ellie.” “What commitment?” She pulled out a neatly folded document and smoothed it onto the coffee table. “This is an IOU signed personally by Ms. Ellie for seventy-five thousand dollars. The loan was co-signed by her and Mr. Tristan Sinclair to support Mrs. Sinclair’s business ventures. Now that Ms. Ellie has tragically passed, this liability falls onto you as her sole estate heir.” I walked over, picked up the paper, and scanned it. It was indeed Ellie’s handwriting. The signature was authentic, dated a year ago. Tristan’s elegant signature sat right next to hers. The attorney pulled another stack of papers from her bag. “Additionally, Ms. Ellie pledged to provide Mr. Tristan’s parents with three thousand dollars monthly until their passing. Here are screenshots of their chat logs confirming her personal commitment.” I set the IOU back on the table and looked straight at Mr. Sinclair. “Sir, did you come here today expecting cash?” Mr. Sinclair let out a soft sigh, his tone turning as soft as cotton. “Gavin, we didn’t want to come. But with Ellie gone, Tristan has no steady support… We rely on these funds in our old age. You know his mother’s health isn’t great…” “Health isn’t great, yet you let your daughter-in-law fund your lifestyle?” I interrupted coldly. Mr. Sinclair’s face drained of color. “Who bought the BMW your daughter drives? Who paid for the designer belt your son wears? And who covered the down payment on your three-bedroom house?” I spoke deliberately, letting every word cut through the air. “Ellie did.” Mrs. Sinclair stood up defensively. “Gavin, watch your tone—” “I am watching my tone,” I glared at her. “Ma’am, the vacation home you built in your hometown cost over a hundred thousand dollars. Where did that money come from?” Her mouth worked silently, unable to form an answer. I pulled a stack of financial statements from the side drawer and tossed them onto the table. Page after page of itemized bank transfer records. “These are all the transfers Ellie made to your family over the years. The monthly allowances plus various ‘loans’ total over two hundred thousand dollars.” Mr. Sinclair stared at the numbers, his lips trembling. “Gavin… this was given voluntarily by Ellie…” “Voluntarily,” I agreed with a slight nod. “Then by all means, go ask her for it.” Silence descended upon the room once again. The lawyer coughed nervously. “Mr. Lin, even if these transfers are accurate, they do not invalidate the legal binding of the signed IOU. As the estate heir—” “As the estate heir,” I cut her off, “I have the right to divide our marital property first.” “And once divided, that money is mine.” “Furthermore, I have a question I’d like to consult a prosecutor about.” I locked eyes with Mr. Sinclair, my voice quiet yet piercing. “Over the past three years, does the two hundred thousand dollars your family received count as unjust enrichment or illegal asset concealment?” Mr. Sinclair’s face turned completely ghost-white. Mrs. Sinclair grabbed his arm, practically dragging him toward the front door. I leaned back against the sofa, resting my hand against my chest. My heart was pounding fast, not out of fear, but sheer adrenaline. Dad. “Yeah?” Tomorrow, your wife comes back from the dead. “She’s not my wife anymore.” Right. Tomorrow, the dead woman comes back to life. I pulled out my phone and checked the calendar. Day fourteen. It was time for her return.

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Seven years after I got sucked into a trashy romance novel, my best friend finally gave up and divorced the story’s secondary male lead. I spent weeks taking her to wild night clubs, bungee jumping off snowy peaks, and holding her hand until we ended up at the beach. She finally wiped away a tear as she hurled her platinum wedding ring far into the ocean waves. “Fine. That’s it,” she muttered, her voice raw. “He and that golden female lead can torture each other for the rest of their lives. I am done playing the sacrificial wife. Come on, let’s go home.” She paused, staring at my hand with a puzzled frown. “Wait, why are you still wearing yours? Don’t tell me you still have feelings for Matthew?” I casually slipped off my diamond band and gave it a soft toss into the foam. Unlike her dramatic gesture, mine was completely effortless. “I just realized there is no point in wasting my energy on this person or any of his drama anymore. It’s completely meaningless.” True moving on happens without a sound. Mackenzie’s explosive anger only proved she still cared deep down. Me? I simply didn’t love Matthew anymore. Mackenzie froze at my words, then burst into uncontrollable sobs. I turned around with a sigh, stepping forward to wrap her in a hug. That was when I noticed Matthew standing right behind us. The notoriously cold, stoic billionaire stood under the moonlight, his thin lips trembling almost imperceptibly. “Is that so?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Am I truly that meaningless to you now?” 1 Getting caught talking trash behind someone’s back is usually embarrassing. Yet, as I met Matthew’s pitch-black eyes, every trace of awkwardness simply died inside me, replaced by a hollow calm. I pulled my stone-drunk best friend up by her arm and started walking toward the coastal hotel. It was past midnight. The ocean breeze blew sharp and cold, carrying the dark hum of the tide. Moonlight washed over Matthew as he leaned against the door of his sleek sports car. As I brushed past him, the faint scent of tobacco hit my nose. I used to hate it when he smoked, so he had quit for years just for me. But the night the novel’s female lead, Betty, returned from abroad, he had stood on the balcony puffing through an entire pack. When dawn broke, he turned to me after I had stayed awake all night and whispered a quiet, “I’m sorry.” Sorry for what? Back then, I didn’t dare dig deeper. I didn’t truly understand until Betty pulled strings to steal the prime news anchor position I had poured three years of sweat into. She even came to my house to gloat, casually throwing the rescue cat Matthew and I had raised together right out of the second-story window. When I lost my mind and reached out to slap her, a massive surge of force pinned my wrist and shoved me down onto the hardwood floor. Matthew had shielded Betty, looking down at me like a stranger. “No matter what happens, you have no right to touch her.” That was the moment I finally understood his apology. He was telling me he had chosen Betty, completely discarding my seven years of devotion. “Let me drive you,” Matthew called out behind us. His voice was raspy from the sea wind. Sensing I was about to refuse, he added quickly, “You two have been drinking. You can’t drive, and walking back to the hotel at this hour isn’t safe.” I couldn’t read his shadow-draped expression, but Mackenzie was still weeping against my shoulder, muttering nonsense. “Fine,” I said softly. “Thanks, Mr. Crawford.” Matthew’s hand froze as he reached for the door handle. 2 The interior of the car was suffocatingly quiet. Mackenzie was completely passed out in the backseat, leaving me stuck in the passenger side. The atmosphere stretched tight with unspoken tension. Ever since our fallout, Matthew and I hadn’t seen each other for months. Sitting side by side felt entirely foreign. Gancing at the rearview mirror, Matthew broke the silence. “Jerry has been looking everywhere for the two of you.” Jerry was the secondary male lead Mackenzie had loved to the point of foolishness. It was because of him that Mackenzie, just like me, had given up the chance to return to our real world three years ago. “I know,” I replied neutrally. Seeing my indifferent response, Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand on the steering wheel, letting out a heavy sigh. “Jerry and Betty aren’t what you think. They are just foster siblings…” “I said I know,” I cut him off cleanly. When Mackenzie and I first glitched into this book, a system error left us completely unaware of the plot. We had to rely on each other, treating this place as our reality. By the time the system finally activated, we had already fallen deeply in love with Matthew and Jerry. Even when the system offered us a ticket back to our real lives, we chose to stay behind. Young women in love always do reckless, heartbreaking things for the men they cherish. But every wall hits back. I had turned around, and now I was just waiting for Mackenzie to make her final choice. “If you’re trying to get me to convince Mackenzie to take Jerry back, you are barking up the wrong tree,” I said, my voice hardening. “Even if Jerry and Betty were pure as snow, I would never take his side or do anything to hurt Mackenzie. Besides…” I let out a cold laugh. “They aren’t innocent at all.” Mackenzie had found Betty’s secret diary inside a lockbox in Jerry’s private study, a room he had explicitly forbidden Mackenzie from entering. It was filled with Betty’s obsessive feelings for her foster brother, along with an unsent reply written by Jerry himself. Line after line detailed his unspeakable love for Betty, explicitly noting how Mackenzie’s personality and expressive eyes reminded him so much of his true love. After reading it, Mackenzie had vomited right beside the safe. She called me weeping uncontrollably: “Get me out of here. Please, Sam, get me away from him.” Mackenzie used to care about her appearance more than anything. But for the past two weeks, she had drowned herself in booze, crying in her sleep until her face was swollen beyond recognition. Yet she looked in the mirror yesterday and asked me, “Do I look less like Betty now?” 3 When we arrived at the hotel, I tucked Mackenzie into bed, wiped off her makeup, and changed her into pajamas. When I stepped back out, I realized Matthew was still standing outside the room. Meeting my surprised gaze, he hurriedly put out the cigarette burning between his fingers. “Is there anything else, Mr. Crawford?” He opened his mouth, his voice dropping low. “Jerry is on his way up.” My expression went icy. I turned around to slam the door shut, but his hand clamped around my wrist. “What are you doing?” I snapped. Matthew stared at me, his dark eyes laced with faint red veins, looking utterly exhausted. “He knows he was wrong,” he murmured. “He deeply regrets it. He just wants to apologize.” “An apology fixes everything?” I scoffed. “Does he not realize how repulsive his actions were? What a total scumbag.” It is nearly impossible to be polite to the trashy husband of your best friend. I thought I was holding back, but Matthew’s face still visibly paled. His usual cool composure cracked, revealing a raw flicker of panic in his eyes. He lowered his head, hiding his expression. Taking advantage of his hesitation, I snatched my wrist back and went to shut the door. At the very last second, his large, pale hand caught the edge of the frame, using his own flesh to block the door from closing. The hallway light was dim. “Sam,” his voice was barely a whisper. “Today is my birthday.” I pretended not to hear. “Today is my birthday,” he repeated, his tone laced with a stubborn, desperate edge. “You said you would always celebrate my birthday with me.” 4 Matthew leaned his head closer, an unconscious habit from when he used to seek affection from me. His eyes looked exactly the same as they did seven years ago when I first fell for him: dark, intense, hiding a fiery wildness beneath a layer of frost. “Matthew,” I called his name. A flicker of genuine hope lit up his eyes. But before I could say another word, his phone vibrated violently. The caller ID displayed a single name: Betty. Matthew’s lips parted, his movements stalling with hesitation. “Because of Mackenzie’s social media post, Betty’s career is taking a massive hit…” Betty had majored in broadcast journalism, just like me. The moment she returned to the country, she snagged my primetime show and built a massive following as a star anchor, heavily backed by both Matthew and Jerry. I didn’t bother looking at him again. “Go ahead, answer it.” Matthew stood frozen. He didn’t pick up the call. The hallway clock ticked steadily toward midnight. In a rare display of vulnerability, his voice sounded painfully strained, as if he knew what he was about to ask was completely unreasonable. “Sam… can I ask for a birthday gift?” I had spent the whole day running around with Mackenzie and was far too exhausted to keep playing these emotional games. I offered a lazy nod. The customized ringtone kept chiming in his pocket. Matthew swallowed hard. “Can we… not get divorced?” I noticed his fingers clenching into a tight fist, his knuckles turning stark white. He was probably thinking about Betty’s public image again. After all, the heads of the Crawford and Vance families couldn’t both go through a high-profile divorce because of the same woman. “Sure,” I agreed smoothly. A rare wave of pure relief washed over Matthew’s face, a visible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He took a step back, finally letting go of the door frame. With tender eyes, he traced the features of my face, looking at me the exact same way he did when we first got together. I used to think that look meant love. Before turning around to answer the phone, he left me with a final phrase, his voice bubbling with a bizarre, child-like excitement. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sam.” 5 I shut the door quietly. It didn’t matter anyway. I had already struck a deal with the system: the moment Mackenzie gave the word, we would leave this world together for good. Divorce or no divorce, it didn’t mean a thing to me anymore. 6 The next morning, Mackenzie was still fast asleep. I went downstairs to the hotel kitchen to borrow their blender and make her some warm honey soy milk. When I stepped back into the hallway, a sharp, terrified scream shattered the quiet. “Ahhh! Get off me!” “Don’t touch me!” I sprinted into the room. Jerry and Betty were already standing inside. I had overlooked the fact that hotel security wouldn’t dare block a billionaire like Jerry Vance. Jerry’s brows were pulled into a tight frown, his expression a mix of confusion and mounting irritation. “That’s all in the past, Mackenzie! Betty and I are foster siblings. Acting out like this ruins our family name! Do you have any idea what people are saying online about Betty?” He grabbed her arm firmly. “She is a public figure! Do you realize your little tantrum is throwing away years of her hard work? How did you become so unreasonable? Come home with me and post a statement saying it was all a misunderstanding.” Betty dabbed at the nonexistent tears in the corners of her eyes, putting on a picture of tragic innocence. “Jerry, don’t blame Sister Mackenzie. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have been so foolish when I was younger, writing those embarrassing things in my diary…” She let out a soft, mournful sigh. “I realized my mistake long ago, and I’ve completely let go of those feelings.” Jerry’s hand on Mackenzie’s arm suddenly stiffened. The plot of this book was painfully simple. Betty and Jerry shared a taboo, foster-sibling romance, caught between moral boundaries and undeniable desire. Meanwhile, her dynamic with Matthew was a tragic story of childhood salvation and second chances. When Betty returned to the country, she was supposed to engage in a high-stakes, angsty love triangle with both men. Except Mackenzie and I had glitched into the narrative. Jerry had never truly gotten over his taboo obsession, and his possessiveness over Betty went far beyond sibling affection. Hearing her deny her feelings for him right there caused his composure to crack, an instant flash of hurt washing over his face. Watching their silent exchange, Mackenzie laughed through her tears. Her hair was a messy nest, wet tear tracks staining her cheeks. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” she sobbed. “Why do I have to be a spectator to your epic romance? What am I to you? What were my seven years worth?!” Jerry and Betty stood there in their immaculate designer clothes, looking down at her like she was a hysterical madwoman. 7 I couldn’t stand it for another second. I rushed forward, but a long arm reached out and caught me by the shoulder. Matthew towered over me, his dark eyes devoid of warmth. “This is between them,” he said coldly. “Sam, can you stop putting Mackenzie above us every single time? We have our own lives to fix…” He paused, adding smoothly, “Besides, Betty is at the peak of her media career. Mackenzie shouldn’t be sabotaging her right now.” I almost couldn’t believe my ears, but a cold wave of realization settled in quickly. He was the male lead, and she was the female lead. Ever since Betty rescued him from a dark alley when he was just a rebellious teenager, he had been irrevocably in love with her. To him, anyone else’s agony was nothing compared to a single strand of Betty’s hair. “Stop making a scene,” Matthew said, looking back at Mackenzie. “If Mackenzie posts a public apology to Betty online, we can put this all behind us. I won’t hold your recent behavior against you either. Let’s all just go home, alright?” As if remembering something pleasant, Matthew’s expression softened slightly, a faint flicker of warmth gracing his eyes. “Bella is waiting for us at home. You’re so heartless, leaving her behind for so long without coming back to check on her.” Bella was the rescue cat Matthew and I had adopted together. Seven years ago, while hiking, I saved Matthew after he was ambushed and severely injured by his family’s business rivals. At the exact same time, I rescued a tiny, stray calico cat that had been mauled by wild dogs. Back then, Bella was terrified of everyone, refusing to let anyone near her except me. I used to joke that she was just like Matthew, always wearing a fierce glare and refusing to let anyone touch her besides her owner. Matthew would stare at the kitten coldly, turning his head with an annoyed huff. Bella couldn’t care less, rubbing her tail against my ankles with purrs. In the end, Matthew would lose his patience, scoop me into his arms, and glare at the tiny cat: “Get lost! Don’t you have your own wife?!” I used to laugh until my stomach hurt. Back then, I thought those moments were ordinary happiness. Who could have guessed that a few years later, when Betty returned and tried to kick me with her high heels, Bella would leap up to protect me? She scratched Betty’s arm. Betty had flown into a psychotic rage. “Do you really think Matthew cares about you?! You are nothing more than my temporary replacement! Now that I am back, he won’t even look at you! And this miserable cat!” She grabbed Bella and threw her straight out the second-story window. Enraged, I tried to fight back, but Matthew tackled me to the ground, holding me down. He then escorted Betty out of the house, letting her ride away triumphantly in the pink sports car he had bought for her. I crawled down the stairs, bleeding and limping, searching frantically in the rain for Bella. Eventually, both the cat and I collapsed from blood loss. I was rushed to the hospital. When I woke up with a sharp, dragging pain in my lower abdomen, the doctor scolded me harshly: “How could you be so careless? You’re pregnant! You almost had a miscarriage, do you realize that?!” In a daze, I asked him, “Bella… where is my cat?” The doctor frowned. “What cat? You were completely alone when the paramedics brought you in.” When I finally returned to the house, Bella’s body was still soft, but icy cold. She would never stand up to rub against my ankles again. 8 Without a word, I tipped the thermos and poured the boiling honey soy milk straight over Matthew’s hand. Scalded, he instinctively snatched his hand back, his gaze instantly turning dark and dangerous. “What is wrong with you?!” “I should ask what the hell is wrong with you!” I yelled, my voice shaking with pure fury. “Bella has been dead for months! I sent you dozens of messages and you ignored every single one of them! How dare you bring her up like she’s still alive?!” Matthew’s face went through a bizarre transformation. “What are you talking about? How could Bella be dead? I explicitly told Betty to go over and feed her every single day…” He whipped his head toward Betty. Betty nervously shifted her gaze away, not daring to meet his eyes. All the color drained from Matthew’s face. Steels of panic returned to his eyes, and he tried to grab my arm again. “Whatever happened, let me explain when we get home, okay?” I slapped his hand away with everything I had. “Get out!” I dashed over and shielded Mackenzie like a mother hen, turning around and landing two brutal slaps right across Jerry’s face. The pampered billionaire was completely stunned by the impact. Red handprints swelled on his cheek. He stared at me in shock, then turned to Mackenzie with a furious, disbelieving glare. “You’re just going to let her hit me?!” They all knew Mackenzie and I were closer than biological sisters. My actions were a direct reflection of her feelings. Jerry simply couldn’t accept it. Mackenzie didn’t even look at him. She closed her eyes, tears flowing silently down her cheeks, her hands trembling violently as she clutched the hem of my shirt. “Mr. Vance, take your trash and leave,” I said coldly. “She is never going back with you. Nothing you have done makes you worth another second of her time. You don’t deserve her love.” Betty tried to step forward to play the victim again. “How could you hit my brother?! You’re just taking your anger out on him because of Matthew…” I fixed her with a glare that could kill. “Take one more step toward us, and I won’t just slap you. I will post the footage of what you did to my cat online for the entire world to see. Try me, Betty.” Betty stomped her foot, turning to the men. “Jerry! Matthew! Look at her!” Surprisingly, both Matthew and Jerry remained dead silent, ignoring her dramatic whines. 9 Once the door shut and they were gone, I wrapped my arms around Mackenzie. “It’s over, it’s over now. I’m here. I’m taking you home.” Mackenzie sobbed so hard she seemed almost delirious. “Can we really go home?” “Yes,” I whispered gently. She pulled back, staring at me with a sudden flash of clarity in her eyes. “Wait… the system said the interdimensional portal was closed! What price did you pay to open it?!” 10 After burying Bella, I spent weeks in the hospital undergoing intensive treatments to save my pregnancy. Every single message I sent to Matthew vanished into the void. Day after day, long needles were pushed into my veins. I hid under the thin hospital blanket every night, weeping until my eyes were raw. A nurse recognized me as a former TV news anchor and asked for an autograph. On the wall-mounted TV, my old show was airing, but Betty was the one hosting it, smiling radiantly under the studio lights. “So you stepped down because you got pregnant!” the nurse chattered happily. “I was wondering why Betty suddenly took over your spot. Hey, you industry insiders must know all the juicy gossip, right? Is it true that Betty secretly married the CEO of the Crawford Group?” My hands froze. I opened my phone and saw Betty’s latest social media update. She had posted a picture of the pink sports car Matthew gave her, tagging him publicly with the caption: A eighteenth birthday gift finally received at twenty-five. She had also shared videos of a grand firework show and a custom drone light display. The icy billionaire had bent over backward to make her smile, unfazed by how cliché it was. Then came a video of her cradling a fluffy, expensive kitten, tagging Matthew playfully: The very first life we are raising together. Followed by an influx of comments asking about the backstory, Betty responded mysteriously: Shh! That’s a secret between Matthew and me! Shortly after, internet sleuths dug up an old photograph of a teenage Matthew and Betty feeding a stray calico cat behind an abandoned school building. The tender smile on young Matthew’s face was something I had never seen in my seven years with him. So, he was capable of smiling at a tiny creature. He didn’t hate Bella because she was a cat; he hated her because her owner was me. It all made sense now. Love was never something logical. I had given Matthew seven years of my life, pouring my whole heart out for him. Yet the moment Betty walked back into the room, she won everything without even trying.

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1 For five years of marriage, Andrew never let me win. I once stood on our penthouse balcony, threatening to jump just to stop a million-dollar wire he sent to Minnie. In retaliation, he dropped ten million on a pink diamond for her the next day. When I locked Minnie in an abandoned warehouse, he had me committed to a psychiatric ward for a month. I broke when I found the lingerie he bought me was the same set he’d already undressed Minnie in. I locked myself on the roof, toes over the edge. Ready to jump, Andrew fell to his knees below, sobbing and holding up the silver guardian angel pendant he’d once prayed for at a cathedral for me. “Nora, I was wrong! I swear I’m done with Minnie. Come down and I’ll spend my life making it up to you.” I smiled bitterly. For the first time, I’d won. That afternoon, Minnie was put on a flight to Australia. Andrew changed. He updated me on his whereabouts, came home for dinner, took me on vacation. On the beach, he smiled and said, “Nora, we’re going to be this happy forever.” I was stupid enough to believe a dead tree could bloom again. Until our anniversary. The flower shop my late mother left me was trashed by thugs. At the police precinct, the desk sergeant pushed a file toward me. “The orchestrators are a married couple. Husband Andrew, wife Minnie. They legally registered their marriage in Australia.” Plunged into a frozen lake, I realized I’d been the outsider all along. This time, I suddenly didn’t want to win anymore. … When I returned from the precinct, my heart was so utterly shattered I could not even speak. Andrew had a cigarette clamped between his lips. His tone was laced with heavily suppressed annoyance. “I admit the flower shop was a mistake…” “But Minnie has been struggling in a foreign country. She does not know anyone there. It does not compare to you sitting comfortably here, enjoying the luxury of being my wife.” “I stayed with you for our anniversary, so it is completely normal that she felt unbalanced and upset!” “Just let her vent her frustration this one time, okay?” I did not say a word. I just stared at him in total silence. This was the man I had loved and hated for five years. Every word falling from his mouth felt like a microscopic needle plunging into my rotting, hole ridden heart. “Struggling in a foreign country?” A hollow laugh escaped my lips. “Andrew, you personally handled her immigration to Australia. You hired a private translator for her. You bought her a luxury villa.” “The monthly allowance you send her is enough to feed a family of three for five years!” A flicker of unnatural guilt crossed Andrew’s face. “Nora, do you really have to be this aggressive?” “Minnie is pregnant. I could not leave her all alone overseas. Her only condition for agreeing to come back was trashing that shop.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. Years ago, I ruined my health eating instant noodles and working myself to the bone to help Andrew build his startup. I developed severe anemia. Right when his business took off, I was kidnapped by one of his corporate rivals. The trauma caused me to lose my first baby. Since then, no matter how many treatments I endured, I could never get pregnant again. I remembered Andrew holding me as I cried, looking at the bruised needle marks all over my arms. “We are done trying, Nora. I am going to get a vasectomy. We can just be child free.” My heart had swelled with so much overwhelming gratitude. I thought that even without children, we could hold onto each other for a lifetime. I stopped him from getting the surgery and finally let go of my obsession with having a baby. Yet now, he and Minnie were having a child. “So you just gave her the green light to destroy the shop my mother left me?” My voice trembled uncontrollably. “Andrew, my mother held my hand on her deathbed and begged me to protect that store.” “It was the only thing she left me in this entire world!” He took a step forward, reaching out to grab my hand. “I will have a crew restore it tomorrow. I will compensate you double.” “Nora, just give me some time. Once Minnie’s emotions stabilize during the pregnancy, I will handle everything and we can go back to living our lives.” In that moment, I lost all desire to scream or fight. For five years, I had fought him and Minnie like an absolute lunatic. Every time I thought I had finally won, reality delivered a brutal slap to my face. The moon was incredibly bright tonight, hanging in the sky like a giant, glowing tear. I had originally planned a romantic dinner to tell him that against all odds, I was pregnant again. Now, those words were permanently lodged in my throat. His phone rang. It was Minnie. “Minnie brought her dog back from Australia and he is not adjusting well to the climate. I need to go check on them.” “I will make up for the anniversary later.” I watched him pack a bag full of expensive pet supplements and premium treats for Minnie’s dog. My mind instantly flashed to Barnaby, the little Bichon Frise I used to raise. Andrew despised him. He claimed he was deathly allergic to dog hair. To protect his health, I sent Barnaby to live in the country. Watching his anxious, hurried movements, a massive wave of hatred and resentment pushed me out the door. I quietly followed him to Minnie’s villa. Through the cracked door, I saw the man who claimed to be allergic to dogs. He was personally trimming a poodle’s nails, feeding it treats, and cuddling it against his chest. My fingernails dug violently into my palms. Gritting my teeth, I kicked the door open and stormed inside. Minnie was lounging on the sofa, eating a bowl of fresh fruit. The poodle was resting on Andrew’s lap while he carefully clipped its paws. The angle of his jaw highlighted that gentle, tender expression I used to know so well. On the night I had to send Barnaby away, he had held me just like that while I sobbed. “Nora, thank you for understanding. I promise I will never make you sad again.” Now, that exact same tenderness was being wasted on Minnie’s dog. The blood rushed straight to my head, making my vision pulse. “Andrew, I thought you were allergic to dogs.” I marched forward, pointing a shaking finger at the poodle rolling playfully in his lap. “You are holding that thing pretty tight. You look perfectly fine to me!” Minnie slowly chewed a piece of fruit, a lazy, arrogant smirk resting on her lips. “Nora, perfect timing. I was actually meaning to tell you.” “Barnaby apparently knocked over Andrew’s grandmother upstate. So she dropped him off at a county pound. He was put down.” My eyes widened in pure horror. Put down? For three whole years, I had refused to visit Barnaby. I was terrified that if I saw him, my heart would break and I would bring him back, making Andrew suffer. Andrew constantly assured me that Barnaby was running wild and free in the country, living a much happier life. He promised that once his allergies cleared up, we would go pick him up together. I waited like an absolute idiot for that day. I never realized our goodbye three years ago was permanent. Andrew’s eyes flickered with guilt. “Barnaby accidentally tripped my grandmother, and she…” I let out a broken laugh as hot tears spilled down my cheeks. “Andrew, your grandmother has been bedridden in a nursing home for three years! She cannot even walk!” “You expect me to believe she drove upstate to dump my dog at a kill shelter?” He did not answer. Minnie’s lips curled higher. “Oh, do not blame Andrew!” “I was the one who had him disposed of. That mutt was too loud, and I need absolute peace and quiet for my pregnancy.” Andrew did not utter a single word of defense. In that fraction of a second, the sickening truth settled into my bones. He had authorized Barnaby’s death. As long as Minnie was unhappy, Andrew would effortlessly clear away any obstacle in her path. His silence was a serrated blade twisting deep into my chest. “Give me my dog back!” I let out a bloodcurdling scream and lunged forward. Minnie shrieked in fake terror, pushing Andrew out of the way to use herself as a shield. “Hit me if you want! Andrew has nothing to do with this!” Five years of suffocating injustice erupted like a volcano. I grabbed a handful of her hair and brought my hand across her cheek, slapping her over and over again. “You stole my husband! You destroyed my mother’s shop! And you murdered my dog!” Minnie wailed, curling into a tight ball on the floor. Andrew charged forward and delivered a brutal kick to my side, sending me flying backwards. The terrified poodle lunged at me, sinking its teeth sharply into my calf. Agony flared up my leg. I screamed as my balance failed completely. I fell backwards. Andrew instinctively reached out his hand to catch me. But Minnie let out a piercing cry and clutched her stomach. “Andrew, my baby… my stomach hurts.” Andrew instantly retracted his hand, spinning around to catch the falling Minnie instead. With a deafening crash, I slammed backward into a glass display cabinet. The heavy panes shattered, raining jagged shards of glass over me like a shower of knives. Andrew did not even look back. He just clutched Minnie against his chest, his voice trembling with sheer panic. “Minnie! Are you okay? Where does it hurt?” Minnie buried her face in his shirt. “My stomach is cramping so badly. Is the baby going to be okay?” Andrew finally lifted his head to look at me, his eyes boiling with absolute rage and disgust. “Nora, are you done acting like a psychopath?!” My ears were ringing violently from his screaming. Dozens of deep cuts were bleeding freely across my arms and back, staining my clothes and dripping onto the expensive rug. “Just because you are incapable of being a mother, you have to ruin Minnie’s chances too?!” That sentence was a sledgehammer smashing directly into my soul. He knew perfectly well that I lost my baby because of his corporate enemies. Yet he weaponized my deepest, most agonizing trauma just to defend another woman. “Andrew, do you have the guts to look me in the eye and say that again?” “Did I say something wrong? Nora, how many doctors have I taken you to over the last five years?” “Top specialists, holistic clinics, everything! The fact you cannot get pregnant is your own biological failure. Have I ever blamed you for it?” “You knew Minnie was pregnant, and you still attacked her. How vicious can you possibly be?” I clenched my fists so tight my nails pierced the flesh of my palms. “Call yourself a cab to the hospital. If you need anything, it will have to wait until I get Minnie checked out.” Andrew scooped Minnie into his arms and walked out the door without looking back. I sat in a pool of shattered glass, my heart squeezed so tightly I could not pull air into my lungs. A sharp, throbbing cramp started pulsating in my lower abdomen. I looked around the luxurious villa, a masochistic urge forcing me to take in the details. The floor to ceiling windows were massive. The curtains were the exact shade of cream I had always dreamed of. That winter, when Andrew and I lived in a freezing basement apartment, we used to eat instant noodles while sketching out architectural blueprints for our future. The kitchen was an open concept, featuring three warm yellow pendant lights hanging over the island. He used to hold his cheap bowl of noodles and say, “When we strike it rich, I am going to build my baby a massive white kitchen!” “You can bake cakes in there, and I will be your handsome assistant!” The steam from the noodles had clouded my face as I watched him smile like an absolute fool. He kept his promise. He built the exact house. Only, he built it for Minnie. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I had not called in a very long time. “Lucas. I regret everything. Can you come pick me up?” I was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. By the time they loaded me onto the stretcher, the pain in my stomach was so agonizing I could not straighten my spine. It felt like the baby inside me realized what was happening and was slowly tearing its way downward. As the paramedics rushed the stretcher through the ER lobby, I instantly spotted Andrew holding Minnie. They wheeled me right past them. Minnie lifted her head and locked eyes with me. Suddenly, she let out a hysterical scream. “Nora, please let me go! I am so sorry!” She violently ripped herself from Andrew’s embrace and dropped heavily onto her knees right on the hospital tiles. She bowed her head frantically toward my moving stretcher. “Nora, the baby is innocent!” “If you want to hit me or curse me, do it! Just please do not hurt my child!” Every single person in the waiting room turned to stare at us. Minnie wept uncontrollably. “I have absolutely nothing! This baby is all I have!” “Please just let him live!” Andrew rushed forward and wrapped his arms protectively around her, glaring at me with pure venom. “Nora, what the hell do you want from us?” The cramping in my stomach was escalating into a blinding agony. I did not even have the energy to speak. Right at that moment, a nurse standing nearby gasped loudly, staring at her phone. “Wait, isn’t this the homewrecker trending on Twitter right now?” The trending hashtag featured a batch of censored, explicit photos. The censorship barely covered anything, and the face belonged undeniably to Minnie. The caption read in bold letters: “Knew he was married, still spread her legs!” Andrew snatched the phone from the nurse, took one look at the screen, and his face turned to absolute ice. “You posted this.” He did not ask. He had already convicted me in his mind. I wanted to tell him it was not me. I had absolutely nothing to do with those photos. But my abdomen violently contracted. A massive rush of warm liquid soaked through my clothes, instantly staining the white sheets of the stretcher dark red. “Andrew, I am losing…” “You storm into her house and assault her, and now you are putting on this pathetic show in the ER?” “Nora, when are you going to stop this psychotic behavior?” He grabbed my wrist in a vice grip and violently yanked me right off the stretcher. I was dragged out of the sliding glass doors of the hospital like a broken ragdoll. It was the peak of a grueling summer heatwave. The asphalt was baking in the hundred degree sun. He threw me forward. I collapsed directly onto a heavy, cast iron utility cover embedded in the pavement. The metal cover had been soaking up the brutal sun all day. It was as hot as a frying pan. The second my bare palms hit the iron, the skin instantly blistered and burned. A horrific, searing pain shot up my arms. I screamed in agony, desperately trying to push myself up. But a tearing, explosive pain ripped through my abdomen at the exact same time. “Andrew… the baby. I am pregnant with your baby…” My voice was so weak it barely registered above a whisper. Andrew stood two steps away, looking down at me with arctic coldness. “How long are you going to keep lying?” “Five years ago, you couldn’t get pregnant, so you fabricated a kidnapping story. Now that Minnie is pregnant, you fabricate your own pregnancy!” “Nora, the fact you can confidently spit out these sick lies proves you have absolutely no boundaries left.” I lay gasping on the blistering utility cover, the skin of my palms practically fusing to the hot metal. The twisting agony in my stomach felt like someone was physically ripping my organs out. Blood pooled onto the iron surface, seeping into the cracks. A nurse burst through the ER doors, screaming at the top of her lungs. “Sir! Stop dragging her! She is having a miscarriage!” Andrew finally turned his head. He took half a step forward. Just then, Minnie stumbled out the doors, leaning weakly against the frame. “Andrew, do not fall for it!” Her voice was incredibly soft and frail. “Nora knows you have a soft heart! She pulls this exact stunt every single time!” “She obviously bribed that nurse to fake a miscarriage!” “How could she possibly be pregnant? The best doctors in the country said she was barren five years ago!” The tiny sliver of panic in Andrew’s eyes vanished, freezing over into solid ice once again. “You are right. I almost let her play me again.” He let out a cruel sneer and pulled a bright red marriage certificate from his jacket, throwing it directly at my face. “Let me tell you the truth. The certificate I gave you five years ago was a prop. It does not even have a state seal.” “Take a good look and tell me who the real mistress is.” A deafening explosion went off in my brain. Everything faded to white. After we got our certificate, Andrew said he wanted to keep it in a safe to protect it, so he took my copy. After Minnie came along, he constantly gaslighted me, claiming I had the official title of Mrs. Andrew, so I needed to be more forgiving of Minnie. But in the end, my entire marriage was a pathetic hallucination. A ragged, rattling gasp tore from my throat. I desperately tried to speak, but not a single word came out. “Andrew, let’s go home. I am so tired, and it is way too hot out here!” Minnie cast a fleeting glance down at me. The triumphant smirk on her face was partially hidden by her hair. “Nora, please stop lying. The more you do this, the more Andrew is going to hate you.” When I finally woke up, I was lying in a sterile hospital room. My right palm was wrapped in thick layers of white gauze. My abdomen felt hollow and terribly empty. A nurse was sitting by my bed. “We couldn’t save the baby. Where is your family?” I stared blankly at the ceiling and weakly shook my head. The man I had lived with for five years was legally married to another woman. Andrew was no longer my family. On the day I was discharged, I took a cab straight to the house to pack my bags. The moment I opened my closet, I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Two uniformed police officers stopped at the bedroom door. “Are you Nora? We received a report that you are trespassing and illegally occupying a private residence. Please come with us.” My entire body froze. This was the home I had lived in for five years. When we supposedly got married, Andrew promised my name was on the deed. I trusted him so completely I never even checked the paperwork. The officer handed me a copy of the property registry. The owner section clearly displayed one name: Minnie. The purchase date was exactly five years ago. “Ms. Minnie has requested you vacate the premises within three days. You are legally prohibited from removing any assets that do not belong to you.” I stared at the piece of paper, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my chest. What in this house actually belonged to me? I poured my blood, sweat, and money into renovating this place. All the gold jewelry and diamonds I had saved up over the last five years legally belonged to Minnie. With trembling fingers, I finally dialed Andrew’s number. “Hello?” “Andrew, I am at the police precinct. They said I am trespassing and the house belongs to Minnie. Explain this to me right now.” Dead silence stretched across the line. Finally, he spoke. “Nora, Minnie has a very important business dinner tonight. Just go home for now…” “Go home to where?” I cut him off, my voice shaking violently. “Tell me where I am supposed to go! Andrew, I lived in that house for five years, and you are telling me it was never mine?” He did not say anything. Through the phone, I heard Minnie’s sweet voice. “Andrew, come zip up my evening gown for me…” The call abruptly disconnected. A notification popped up on my phone screen. Andrew had just posted a new update on his corporate social media. It was a high resolution scan of his Australian marriage certificate. The names, the date, the official government seal. Everything was crystal clear. The caption was a single sentence: “Tolerated it for five years. She was never my wife.” I clicked on the comment section. Pure, unfiltered malice flooded my screen. “Look at Nora acting like a lunatic. Total schizophrenia!” “The real boss finally speaks up!” “Mr. Andrew protecting his actual wife is so hot!” “Women like her are rats in the gutter. If she can’t have him, she tries to destroy him!” I sat on the cold plastic chair in the precinct, gripping my phone as the warmth drained entirely from my fingertips. A female officer handed me a paper cup of hot water. “Ma’am, are you going to be okay?” I took the cup. The dam finally broke, and I completely fell apart, sobbing uncontrollably right there in the police station. By the time I walked out of the precinct, the sky was pitch black. My phone lit up again. Another message from Andrew. “Nora, Minnie was just throwing a little tantrum. Once she calms down, I will take you house hunting!” I stared at the text message and let out a broken, raspy laugh. I waited five years for a man who never existed. I was done waiting. I pressed down on the message, swiped left, and hit delete. Then, I permanently blocked his number. The next morning, I handed a meticulously crafted presentation and my official medical miscarriage report to Minnie’s assistant, Lily. I also transferred a massive sum of money into her account. I explicitly instructed her to project it onto the main screen during Minnie’s massive celebration banquet. The presentation documented the exact timeline of Andrew and my relationship, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt who the real mistress was. It was enough to permanently destroy Minnie’s reputation. After putting the final nail in her coffin, I boarded a one way flight to Italy. For the rest of my life, I would never look back. Hours later, Andrew walked into the house. His eyes instantly locked onto a piece of paper resting on the kitchen counter, stamped with a bright red hospital seal. Patient: Nora. Seven weeks pregnant. Miscarriage due to blunt force trauma. Date: The day of our anniversary. The color vanished entirely from his face…

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1 The night before we were supposed to get our marriage license, I walked in on my fiancé and my best friend kissing on our wedding bed. In a state of sheer panic, I tumbled down the stairs, suffering a severe traumatic brain injury. When I finally woke up, I had developed a rare form of intermittent amnesia. My memory was trapped on the day I first tried on my wedding dress, resetting automatically every seven days. For the past six months, my fiancé and my best friend stayed by my side. Alongside my parents, they showered me with meticulous, unwavering care. I truly believed I was surrounded by love. Until today, when I overheard Amanda’s hushed voice through the crack in the door. “What if Summer sees you kissing me like this?” Lucas gave a soft, careless laugh. “What is there to fear? Tomorrow is the seventh day. She will wake up and forget everything all over again. In her heart, we will always be the people who love her most.” My hands trembled violently around the glass tumbler I was holding. He had no idea that my memory had fully returned. I did not just remember the betrayal on the eve of our marriage. I remembered every detail of the past six months. I remembered how they had used the flaws in my mind to shamelessly carry on their affair right under my nose. I turned around, walked quietly back to my room, and booked a one-way ticket to Europe for tomorrow. From now on, no matter how vast the world was, they would no longer be a part of my life. … “Good morning, Summer. How did you sleep last night?” Amanda stood in the doorway, holding a glass of warm milk, her face beaming with a sweet, innocent smile. I flipped my phone face down onto the desk, concealing the confirmation text for my flight. I raised my head and looked at her innocent face. Six months ago, this exact face was tilted up on my wedding bed, welcoming Lucas’s kiss. “I slept fine,” I said, my voice completely flat. Amanda walked over and set the milk beside my hand. Her eyes darted around my desk, scanning for anything unusual. Finding nothing, her smile widened. “Lucas said you had a high fever last night. He specifically asked me to warm up some milk for you. Drink it while it’s hot. Don’t let our good intentions go to waste.” She emphasized the words “good intentions” with deliberate weight. I looked at the steaming glass. A sudden wave of nausea churned in my stomach. Ever since I got sick, Lucas had stayed by my bedside every single time I ran a fever, staying awake through the night to care for me. I used to think that was devotion. Until last night, when I reviewed the security footage from our house and heard him tell Amanda: “Her lucid periods are getting longer lately. I will take her to the clinic next week. Let us increase the dosage on that medication the doctor mentioned.” Amanda had nestled into his chest, her tone dripping with mock pity. “It must be so hard on you, having to manage this invalid.” “It is no trouble,” Lucas had replied smoothly. “For you, I am willing to do anything.” Listening to them exchange sweet vows of devotion had torn my heart to shreds. The tender care I had cherished was nothing more than Lucas monitoring a broken machine that threatened to malfunction at any moment. Lucas walked into the room. Seeing Amanda so close to me, his brow furrowed slightly. “Why are you still in here? Summer needs her rest,” he said. Amanda turned to leave. As she passed Lucas, her fingers subtly brushed against the hem of his jacket. Lucas’s gaze darkened, but he did not pull away. Every single gesture fell directly into my eyes. Once the door closed, only Lucas and I remained in the room. He stepped up to me, naturally reaching out to press the back of his hand against my forehead. “Fever is gone,” he exhaled softly, his tone laced with heart-wrenching tenderness. “Summer, do you have any idea how terrified I was last night?” I stared into his affectionate eyes. For the past six months, those eyes had been my only anchor. Whenever I faced the terrifying unknown of my memory loss, he was the one who held my hand and whispered that everything would be alright. He told me I was his world, that we would have the grandest wedding imaginable. Back then, I was moved to tears. Now, a bone-chilling cold swept through me. “Lucas,” I murmured. “If one day I remembered everything, would you be happy?” Lucas’s fingertips went stiff. A flash of panic darted through the depths of his eyes, though he masked it almost instantly behind a warm, smooth smile. He pulled me into his chest, resting his chin lightly on the crown of my head. “Silly girl. Whether you remember or not, you are my wife. As long as you stay by my side, I am happy.” I rested against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Suddenly, everything felt utterly meaningless. I pushed him away gently. “I am tired. I want to sleep for a bit.” Lucas caught off guard. Normally, I would cling to him at this hour, asking endless questions about our wedding preparations. But he did not dwell on it. He simply tucked the duvet neatly around my shoulders. “Alright, get some rest. Tomorrow, I will take you to try on your wedding dress.” He leaned down, intending to kiss my forehead. I turned my head away, avoiding his touch. His lips brushed uselessly against my cheek. He looked at me, a flicker of scrutiny creeping into his gaze. “Summer, what is wrong?” I closed my eyes. “Just a slight headache.” Lucas remained silent for a moment. “Alright, I will let you rest.” He turned and walked out. The moment the door clicked shut, I opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Tomorrow would be the seventh day. It would also be the day I vanished. Lucas, your little game is over. In the afternoon, my parents arrived. My mother carried a thermal flask while my father followed behind with boxes of health supplements. Amanda walked closely alongside them, affectionately holding my father’s arm. “Dad, Summer just recovered from a fever. She shouldn’t eat anything too greasy,” Amanda said softly. My father patted the back of her hand with a fond smile. “Amanda is always so thoughtful.” I leaned back against the sofa, watching the three of them project an image of familial warmth without a trace of emotion. Six months ago, the accident had damaged my brain. Fearing my parents would sink into deep despair, Amanda had volunteered to become their goddaughter, promising to care for them in their old age. At first, I was touched. Amanda and I had been like sisters, after all. It did not take long for me to realize how catastrophically wrong I had been. Amanda appeared in front of my parents more and more frequently, subtly eroding my place in the family. What truly broke my heart, however, was my parents’ attitude. In the security footage I had recovered, my mother had smiled warmly at Amanda and Lucas. “Dear, don’t you think Amanda and Lucas look so much better together? Summer’s condition isn’t fit for marriage anyway. Why not just bless these two instead?” My father had nodded repeatedly in agreement. All four of them had laughed together, completely unconcerned about me as I lay upstairs, unconscious with a raging fever. My mother poured the soup into a bowl and brought it over to me. “Summer, sweetheart, have a taste.” The maternal devotion in her eyes was almost overflowing. Yet this was the very mother who had handed my love to someone else on a silver platter, forcing me to live as a hidden third wheel for six long months. “I don’t want it,” I replied coldly. My mother froze, her hands hovering awkwardly in the air, unsure of whether to pull the bowl back or push it forward. Lucas stepped in smoothly to diffuse the tension. “Mom, Summer isn’t feeling well today. I was actually just about to take her to the clinic for a checkup. She can drink your soup when she feels better.” His words were seamless, and Amanda chimed in seamlessly right on cue. Sitting beside them, I felt like a puppet being casually arranged. Lucas looked down at me, his tone dripping with sweetness. “Let’s go, Summer. I’ll take you to the clinic. We still have to try on your dress tomorrow, so we can’t afford any delays.” I looked at the four people who used to be closest to me in the world. My parents, my fiancé, my godsister. They had banded together to deceive a helpless invalid. After all, I had fluid on my brain. After all, my memory could only hold seven days. A faint smile touched my lips. I turned to look at Lucas with a vacant expression. “Alright, let me get my coat.” When we arrived at the clinic, Lucas went through his usual routine, seeking out the doctor for a private consultation, putting on a flawless display of deep concern. If I hadn’t collapsed on the street two weeks ago and been rushed to a real hospital by a kind stranger, I never would have known the truth. During emergency treatment, the doctors cleared the fluid pressing against my nerves, restoring my memory. I never would have discovered that Lucas had spent a fortune building a mock clinic setup just to keep me under control. Every single medical staff member here was an actor hired to keep the lie alive. After a series of fake examinations, Lucas returned holding a strip of pills, his face clouded with worry. “Summer, the doctor said your condition is worsening. The fluid has spread again. Starting today, we have to double your dosage.” I looked at the dozen pills of various shapes and sizes in his palm. A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Lucas, do I really have to take these? You said it didn’t matter if I ever remembered, that you would love me forever…” Before I could finish, Lucas raised his voice slightly, cutting me off. “Summer, this is no time to throw a tantrum! Tomorrow is the dress fitting, and the wedding is next week. This is critical!” I stared at his unyielding expression, chose not to push further, and swallowed the handful of pills at once. Only then did a satisfied smile return to his face. He pulled out his phone, stepping aside as he spoke. “Rest here for a moment while I call your parents to let them know you’re alright.” Watching his back, I walked into the restroom, jammed my fingers down my throat, and threw up until my stomach turned inside out. The pills washed down the drain. I stared at my pale reflection in the mirror, my resolve hardening into steel. Yes, the dress fitting was important, and the wedding was important too. It was just a pity that Lucas would never get to see me wear that dress. That evening, Lucas took me to a high-end private restaurant. It was a habit he had built over the past six months. On the night of the sixth day, he would always take me out for a lavish dinner, claiming it was to celebrate our upcoming wedding. In reality, it was just to keep me calm and ensure I would reset smoothly the following day, just like forcing me to swallow those suppressants. The restaurant had been reserved exclusively for us. A grand piano sat quietly in the center of the dining hall. Lucas held my hand as he guided me to a table. “Take a look and see what you like,” he said, handing me the menu. I didn’t take it. “You order. I like whatever you pick.” Lucas paused, looking at me with a subtle, sharp scrutiny hiding beneath his eyes. “Summer, you are acting very strange today. Usually, you would be begging for the beef Wellington here.” I picked up my water glass and took a small sip. “Is that so? Maybe I just don’t have much of an appetite today.” Lucas didn’t probe any further. He ordered a few dishes I used to favor. While we waited for the food, Amanda arrived. She wore a tailored designer dress and pulled out the chair next to Lucas without an ounce of hesitation. “Lucas, Summer,” she greeted, settling in comfortably. “I just finished fitting my bridesmaid dress and thought I’d drop by for a bite. You don’t mind, do you, Summer?” I looked at her. “Not at all.” Amanda seemed slightly caught off guard by my composure. She raised an eyebrow, her gaze landing on my bare wrist. “Summer, where is the diamond bracelet Lucas gave you? Didn’t you say you’d wear it every single day?” I set my glass down. “I took it off.” “Why?” she asked, putting on an exaggerated look of surprise. “It felt too heavy,” I replied casually. “It was cutting into my skin.” Lucas’s expression darkened instantly. That bracelet was something he had personally bid on during a business trip to South Africa last month. He had told me it represented a love that was one of a kind. “Summer, do you not like it anymore?” His tone carried a subtle edge of danger. I met his gaze dead-on. “It’s not that I dislike it. I just feel like it doesn’t suit me anymore.” Lucas stared at me intently, as if searching my face for the slightest crack in my composure. But he found nothing. Seeing the tension rising, Amanda immediately stepped in to play the peacemaker. “Oh, Summer is probably just tired of wearing the same thing. Lucas, you can just buy her a better one tomorrow, right?” She turned toward me, pointing at her own neck. “Summer, look at this necklace. Does it look good on me?” It was a ruby necklace Lucas had bought at an auction six months ago. Originally, it was meant to be my wedding gift. But after my accident, it found its way onto Amanda’s neck instead. “It looks nice,” I said softly. Amanda smiled triumphantly. “Lucas said the shade really complements my skin tone. Summer, when you try on your wedding dress tomorrow, could you lend me your glass slippers? I have a major audition tomorrow, and I need a pair of statement shoes to hold the floor.” She had finally revealed her true motive. Those glass slippers were custom bridal shoes I had personally helped design. They were one of a kind in the entire world. Lucas frowned. “Amanda, stop causing trouble. Those are Summer’s wedding shoes.” Amanda pouted, tugging gently on Lucas’s sleeve. “But after Summer tries them on tomorrow, she won’t be wearing them again for a while. Leaving them in the closet will just collect dust. Why not let me borrow them? Summer and I are best friends, she definitely won’t mind. Lucas, please just say yes!” Lucas glanced at me. I could see the gears turning in his head, weighing whether to protect the dignity of his memory-impaired fiancée or satisfy the vanity of his secret lover. In the end, he chose the latter. “Summer,” he said, taking my hand and softening his tone. “Amanda is your best friend and our parents’ goddaughter. As her older sister, just let her have her way this once. Tomorrow at the fitting, I will have a new pair sent over.” His hand was warm, but my heart was cold as ice. “Sure,” I pulled my hand back gently. “If she likes them so much, she can just have them.” Lucas froze. Amanda was equally stunned. Neither of them had expected me to yield so easily. “Summer, are you serious?” Lucas asked, genuine disbelief in his voice. “I am,” I looked straight into his eyes. “They’re just a pair of shoes. I don’t want them anymore.” Not just the shoes. I don’t want you anymore, either. The two of them carried on chatting and laughing across the table, but I paid them no mind. Let them play their game. My countdown was almost up anyway. When we left the restaurant, the sky had turned pitch black. Lucas drove us home. The ride was suffocatingly quiet. He didn’t turn on the radio, nor did he initiate a conversation. He simply kept checking on me through the rearview mirror every few minutes. I leaned against the window, watching the city lights blur past. I had traveled this same road for six months, every cycle filled with naive anticipation for a wedding dress fitting, only to wake up in despair again. The car pulled into the underground garage. Lucas parked, but he didn’t unbuckle his seatbelt right away. He turned his body toward me. “Summer. What is wrong with you today?” A hint of suppressed irritation leaked into his voice. “In the past, you would never give your things away to anyone else. And you would never look at me with those eyes.” I met his gaze. “What kind of eyes?” Lucas fell silent, struggling to find the right words. “Like you are looking at a total stranger,” he finally said. I let out a soft laugh. “Lucas, you are overthinking. I just feel like since we are getting married, there is no need to fuss over minor details.” Lucas stared at me, his brows tightly knit. Suddenly, he leaned over, unbuckled my seatbelt, and pulled me into a tight embrace. “Summer, don’t scare me,” he muttered, burying his face into the crook of my neck, his voice trembling slightly. “You are all I have left.” A faint trace of perfume hit my nose. It was Amanda’s signature scent. I closed my eyes, hiding the repulsion flooding my chest, and gently patted his back. “Lucas, let’s go upstairs. I am really tired.” Lucas released me, searching my eyes as if trying to confirm whether I was truly alright. Finally, he nodded. “Okay.” Back inside the house, Lucas drew my bathwater just as he always did, then brought out the hairdryer to dry my hair. His movements were gentle, his fingers running through my strands with comforting warmth. “Summer,” he spoke over the hum of the dryer. “Tomorrow, right after the fitting, we will go get our marriage license.” I looked at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were focused, dripping with apparent devotion. If my memory hadn’t returned, if I hadn’t overheard his conversation this morning, I truly would have believed he loved me to his core. “Alright,” I whispered to my reflection. Once my hair was dry, Lucas carried me to bed and pressed a kiss onto my forehead. “Goodnight, my future Mrs. Crawford.” I shut my eyes. “Goodnight.” I waited until I heard the door close and his footsteps fade down the hallway before opening my eyes. I pulled back the covers and stepped out of bed, pulling a pre-packed suitcase from beneath the frame. Inside were just a few basic pieces of clothing and my passport. Then, I slid the engagement ring off my left ring finger. It was a five-carat pink diamond. Lucas had once claimed it represented his unconditional love for me. I placed the ring directly on top of the original purchase receipt on the nightstand. Finally, I pulled out my phone and blocked every single contact number belonging to Lucas, Amanda, and my parents. When everything was done, I checked the wall clock. Three in the morning. Four hours until my flight. I sat on the edge of the bed, looking around the room where I had been confined for the last six months. It was filled with traces of Lucas: the plush toys he bought, the curtains he picked, the wooden carvings he crafted by hand. I used to think this was my safe haven. Only now did I realize it was a meticulously constructed cage. I stood up, took the handle of my suitcase, and walked toward the door without a single trace of hesitation. Lucas, your “seventh day” will never come again.

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1 Finn forced my phone down on a busy sidewalk, face carved from ice. “Amy, delete the post. Stop being so desperate for attention.” Tears stinging, I deleted our anniversary photo in front of the weekend crowd. Only then did his tension thaw. He sighed and pulled me close. “Be a good girl. We don’t need to post online to prove anything.” For three years, his shadow vanished from my social media. Friends asked if I was even dating. I smiled and said he liked privacy. Even our digital wedding invitations next month used only a sunset photo. Until last night, when the algorithm pushed a pet influencer’s video. Finn held a girl by the waist, eyes crinkling with a genuine smile. Over ten thousand comments raved about how sweet Ollie and his wifey were. I scrolled through every video. The first post dated back eight months into our relationship. The pinned comment: the girl complaining, “He insists on filming every single day. So annoying lol.” He didn’t hate being recorded. He just hated being recorded with me. Face numb, I opened my chat with the wedding planner. “The wedding is off.” … After I sent that message, I sat at the desk in my home office, my hands and feet freezing cold. The glowing screen illuminated a meticulously documented timeline. One thousand and ninety-five days of updates. He was in every single one of them. Sometimes it was just his side profile. Sometimes a shot of his back. Sometimes he was holding a fluffy Ragdoll cat named Casper, flashing a gentle, melting smile at the camera. I locked my phone. The living room lights were still on. It was a habit I had kept for five years, always leaving a light on for his late nights. I heard the key turn in the front door. Finn walked in, shrugging off his jacket. He walked straight up to me, his brow furrowed in that familiar expression of mild annoyance. “Is the intro video for the reception not done yet?” He did not offer a single word about why he was home past midnight. He did not notice the total lack of emotion in my eyes. I looked at him calmly. “Yeah. Almost done.” He did not catch the coldness in my voice. He just kept talking. “I need it by tomorrow. Don’t forget.” He casually tossed his heavy camera bag onto the sofa. A small, black camera remote rolled out of the side pocket and dropped onto the rug. My heart felt like it hit the floor with it. It was the exact same remote. In countless videos, that girl named Sophie would hold it up, laughing as she yelled at the man off screen, “Ollie, we are rolling!” He was never passively caught on film. He was the one personally hitting the shutter. Finn bent down to pick up the remote. Catching my stare, he quickly shoved it back into the bag. “Why are you looking at that?” I swallowed the sharp lump in my throat. “Finn, what is that pet account all about?” Irritation instantly flooded his face. “I already told you, it is just work. It is a collaborative project for a pet brand.” “Does a work project require you to be on camera every day? For three years?” “What crazy narrative are you spinning in your head now?” He raised his voice, his patience totally gone. “Amy, can you act like an adult for once? Stop dragging my professional life into your emotional insecurities.” “I just wanted to…” “You don’t need to know,” he cut me off sharply. “Just do what you are supposed to do. Finish cutting the wedding video.” It was always like this. He always threw around words like mature, work, and desperate to completely invalidate my feelings. In the past, I would have immediately apologized and reflected on my behavior. But tonight, I just gave him a slow nod. “Okay.” He looked incredibly satisfied with my obedience and turned to walk into the bathroom. Listening to the sound of the shower running, I opened my messages. The curator had just sent a final confirmation. “Amy, regarding the two year film restoration residency at the Portland Vintage Film Archive, are you absolutely sure you want to take it? You previously turned it down because of your upcoming wedding.” To protect the home Finn always talked about, I had given up my absolute dream job. Tonight, I was taking it back. “I am sure. Thank you for keeping the spot open for me.” The next morning, Finn realized his camera batteries were not charged. His daily shooting scripts were not neatly laid out on the kitchen island like usual. He started rummaging through the living room, clearly annoyed. “Amy, where is my backup battery?” I was on the floor, carefully packing my delicate film restoration tools in bubble wrap. I did not even look up. “I don’t know. Find it yourself.” He froze, staring at me in complete disbelief. I ignored him. I opened my banking app and began transferring the returned vendor deposits to cover the cancellation penalties. He had always used work as an excuse to avoid the wedding planning. All the vendors only had my contact information. That made it incredibly convenient for me to sever everything cleanly. The venue, the officiant, the catering, the luxury car rentals. I chopped away every single connection with my own hands. Finally, I logged into the studio security portal and requested to revoke my own access badge. “Confirm termination of access?” I clicked yes. My phone buzzed with an incoming email from Portland. “Welcome aboard, Amy. Your residency check-in date is in seven days.” I opened the digital seating chart for the reception. I clicked on the bride’s designated chair and hit delete. The wedding was still perfectly intact inside Finn’s head. But his bride had already quietly left the stage. The next day, I drove over to the animal rescue base. Officially, I was there to return some lighting equipment the wedding studio had borrowed. All the volunteers at the base knew Finn. And they all knew the wifey from his videos. The second I set the heavy equipment cases down, a young college girl practically skipped over to me. “Oh, you must be Ollie’s friend! Is he coming by today?” I shook my head. “I am just here to drop this off.” “Aw, okay,” she said, looking a bit deflated before her smile returned. “That is fine, the missus is here anyway. Those two always show up together.” Another volunteer tossing treats to a tabby cat chimed in. “Seriously, Ollie and his lady are literally relationship goals. They are so cute together.” The missus. His lady. The words echoed in my head like television static. I turned around and finally saw her in person. Sophie. She was surrounded by a few volunteers, laughing brightly. “Oh stop teasing me, guys! We are strictly work partners.” She said the words, but there was not a single trace of awkwardness or denial on her face. Right on cue, Finn walked through the double doors. He was carrying a massive box of premium canned cat food. He walked straight past everyone and naturally took a spot right next to Sophie. The volunteers immediately started cheering. “Look who it is! Ollie taking his girl on another charity date!” Finn just chuckled. He did not clarify a thing. Not a single word. His eyes swept across the room and landed on me. He froze for a fraction of a second. The charity sponsor representative happened to walk by and looked at me curiously. “Hey Ollie, who is this?” For exactly one second, my pathetic heart held onto a sliver of hope. I foolishly hoped he would say, this is my fiancée. Instead, Finn kept his voice perfectly flat and casual. “Just a friend. She is handling the videography for our wedding.” A friend. Weeks before our supposed wedding, standing in a room full of people who assumed he was dating Sophie, he effortlessly reduced me to a random vendor. I vividly remembered an award ceremony three years ago. He had won a massive industry prize. The press was swarming him at the afterparty. I had instinctively taken a step forward to stand by his side. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me into a dark hallway. “There are too many people and too many cameras. Go wait in the car.” Back then, I thought he was just protecting me from the stress of public life. Now I understood. His obsession with hiding me was a strictly enforced rule. A rule that only applied to me. Across the room, they were prepping the set for a live broadcast. Sophie’s lapel microphone was sitting slightly crooked. Finn naturally stepped into her personal space, leaning down to carefully clip it to the perfect spot on her collar. His movements were incredibly fluid and intimate. He had clearly done this a thousand times. Sophie looked up at him with a pout. “That ring light almost blinded me earlier.” Finn immediately spun around to yell at the lighting tech. “Swap it out for a softbox! Her eyes are sensitive to harsh light.” Then he adjusted the main camera, telling Sophie to lean her head against his shoulder to test the framing. The utter devotion and tenderness in his eyes was the exact same look I had seen in a thousand different videos. The moment the stream went live, Sophie pulled a shiny piece of metal from her pocket and held it up to the lens. “Ta-da! Look at our new custom collar tags!” It was a silver tag shaped like a bone. Engraved on the metal were their initials. O & S. Finn laughed, took the tag from her fingers, and personally clipped it onto the thin silver chain around Sophie’s neck. The live chat exploded across the monitor. “OMG IS THIS THE HARD LAUNCH?!” “Locking this ship down! Throwing away the key!” I could not watch another second. I turned around and walked out the door. When I got back to our apartment, I booted up my laptop and logged into our shared cloud drive. Five years together. We had traveled the world. We had taken countless photos. I opened the master folder sorted by date. I scrolled back exactly three years, to the day their account was created. Folder after folder. Thousands of high resolution photos and video clips. It was all Sophie. Her laughing, her crying over a stray kitten, her sleeping peacefully against Finn’s shoulder on a train. He had meticulously organized and color-corrected every single piece of her existence. And me? I typed my own name into the archive search bar. Zero results. The only proof I even existed in this massive digital library was one corrupted file from three years ago. It was a blurry photo I took of his back as he walked away from me, right after he demanded I never point a lens at his face. I gave this man five years of my youth, and in his permanent memory, I was nothing but empty space. I shut the laptop and dragged a heavy plastic storage bin out of the closet. I had bought these bins planning to use them for moving into a bigger house after the wedding. Now, I was using them to pack up my corpse of a relationship. My film reels. My chemical kits. My grandmother’s brass camera. Every single item that belonged to me went into the plastic shell. I did not leave a note to explain what I was doing. I no longer needed a spot in his lens. I no longer needed his validation. When I clicked remove account on the shared cloud drive, the system gave me a warning pop-up. “You will permanently lose access to over 4,000 files.” I didn’t back anything up. I clicked confirm. The final family photoshoot was booked at Finn’s private studio. His mother, the woman who had always treated me with cold, polite distance, was practically glowing with warmth today. But that warmth was not meant for me. “Sophie, come here honey! Stand right next to Ollie.” His mother grabbed Sophie’s hand and pulled her directly into the center of the frame, pressing their shoulders together. Sophie looked a little embarrassed and glanced in my direction. “I don’t know, Mrs. Hayes… Amy is right there.” “Oh nonsense! You have been Ollie’s partner for years. You are practically family at this point. It is just a photo!” His mother waved her hand dismissively, then pointed at me. “Amy, you know cameras. Do us a favor and hold that heavy reflector board for the lighting guy.” With one sentence, I went from future daughter-in-law to unpaid intern. I stood in the shadows just outside the bright set lights, gripping the heavy metal frame of the reflector. Finn’s father, his mother, Finn, and Sophie. They stood shoulder to shoulder, laughing. The perfect, happy family. And I was the hired help standing outside the frame. My chest felt incredibly tight. A bitter, acidic ache crawled up my throat. His mother must have noticed the dead look in my eyes. She called out over the flash of the camera. “Amy, smile a little! Don’t ruin the happy mood with that face.” To her, my silent grief was just an inconvenience. I looked at Finn, desperately hoping he would defend me. Just once. Instead, his eyebrows pulled together. He looked right at me and mouthed three words. “Look at the big picture.” Always the same excuse. Using family duty and professional courtesy as weapons to force me back into my corner. The lighting tech adjusted a massive strobe, and a beam of harsh white light accidentally caught Sophie right in the face. She squeezed her eyes shut. Finn instantly broke his pose. “Turn that down! Swap it for a softer grid! I told you she hates bright lights!” He remembered she was sensitive to light. He remembered her tiniest, most insignificant quirks. But he completely forgot that my right wrist had permanent nerve damage, and I could not hold heavy objects for more than five minutes. The metal reflector felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. A sharp, familiar spike of agony shot up my forearm. I got that injury three years ago. Finn had almost dropped a rare, vintage Leica lens. I dove across concrete stairs to catch it, fracturing my wrist in the process. I still remembered the pure panic on his face back then. He sat outside the urgent care room all night. He spent a week modifying a heavy duty camera strap to take the weight off my arm. He used to insist on carrying all my gear cases. That same modified strap was currently wrapped around a microphone stand in Sophie’s broadcasting room. He said it looked cool on camera. The memories made my lungs burn. The stabbing pain in my wrist finally hit a breaking point. My fingers went numb, and the heavy metal reflector crashed onto the hardwood floor. The loud bang echoed through the studio. Everyone turned to stare at me. Finn practically stomped over. He didn’t even look at my trembling hand. He bent down to inspect the reflector frame. “What is your problem? Can we even finish this shoot?” I stared at his face, hot tears threatening to spill over my eyelashes. “My wrist hurts.” He finally noticed the angry red swelling around my joint. His scowl only deepened. “Why are you always so careless?” There was no sympathy. Just annoyance. “Is this going to delay the edit for the channel?” he demanded. In that exact second, whatever love I had left for this man flatlined. He gave his gentleness to another woman. His memory was entirely selective. I shook my head slowly and pushed myself up from the floor. “I’m done shooting.” I turned my back on him and walked straight toward the equipment staging area. I didn’t look back once. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was the Portland project coordinator. “Hi Amy. Due to a massive storm front moving in, your scheduled train has been bumped up to tomorrow night. Please be ready.” Perfect timing. I stopped at the workbench and undid the velcro on the black wrist brace I had worn for three years. He had carefully strapped it onto my arm all those years ago. Now, I was giving it back to him. I left it sitting next to a pile of dead batteries. The lead photographer handed a digital tablet to Finn for final approval. In the picture, his family and Sophie were beaming. If you looked very closely at the glass window behind them, you could barely make out a distorted, blurry shadow standing in the dark. That was me. On my final day in the city, I calmly handled all the handover paperwork for the studio. The freight company had already loaded my storage bins onto a truck bound for Portland. The digital access code for my new studio apartment was saved on my brand new phone. I moved through the apartment like a hotel guest checking out, scrubbing away every single trace I had ever lived there. When Finn finally walked through the door, I was sitting at my desk, deleting the final files from my hard drive. It was the wedding reception video. I had scrubbed every single photo of us, replacing them with generic drone footage of mountains and oceans. He saw my swollen wrist, and muscle memory kicked in. He grabbed a tube of medical ointment from the bathroom cabinet and began rubbing it into my skin. For a brief, stupid second, his gentle touch almost made me hesitate. Maybe deep down, there was still a part of him that cared. Then he opened his mouth and shattered the illusion. “Does it feel better? If you are done pouting, go fix the color grading on the wedding video. The tones are way too cold.” He legitimately believed the wedding was still happening. I pulled my arm away from his grip and asked him one final question. “Finn. Have you ever considered what happens if I refuse to keep doing this?” He looked at me like I had just told a terrible joke. “Refuse? Amy, are you really not done throwing this tantrum?” He stood up, looking down at me with pure condescension. “You delete the photos from the reception hall. You walk out of the family shoot. What is this? Are you trying to hold a gun to my head so I announce our relationship online?” “Let me make this clear. I despise being threatened.” So that was it. All my heartbreak, all my endless sacrifices, all my silent suffering. To him, it was just a calculated tantrum to get attention. I actually laughed. I laughed so hard my ribs ached. Right as I did, his phone started ringing frantically. It was the manager at the pet rescue base. He was shouting so loud I could hear it from the chair. “Ollie! Get down here! A heavy lighting rig just collapsed during Sophie’s livestream. She dove to protect a cat and got hit!” All the color drained from Finn’s face. He grabbed his car keys and sprinted out the front door without even looking at me. He completely forgot that we were supposed to do the final venue walkthrough with the catering manager in twenty minutes. Once again, for Sophie, he simply abandoned me. I didn’t run after him. I opened my laptop and clicked on their livestream link. The camera was knocked sideways, showing a chaotic, dusty floor. People were shouting in the background. Then, I saw him. Finn sprinted into the frame. He grabbed Sophie from the floor and pulled her violently against his chest, wrapping his entire body around hers to shield her from any falling debris. He was running his hands through her hair, checking her for injuries. His voice was shaking with absolute raw terror. “Are you okay? Did it hit your head? Talk to me!” Even after the staff confirmed she was just bruised and scared, he refused to let her go. With over twenty thousand people watching live, he buried his face in her neck and held her in a desperate, clinging embrace. A tech rushed over, reaching for the camera. “Should I kill the feed?” “Leave it!” Finn barked, glaring at the guy. “Don’t ruin the engagement metrics!” Three years ago, he screamed at me in the middle of a public street and made me cry just to delete a photo. Today, he was broadcasting his desperate embrace of another woman to tens of thousands of strangers for internet points. He didn’t hate the camera. He just hated the idea of the world knowing I belonged to him. The live chat was going absolutely insane. “HOLY CRAP THE WARDOG ENERGY!” “They are so real for this! This isn’t scripted!” “Please get married right now!” I stared at those comments. I moved my mouse, clicked the little heart icon on the top comment, and closed the window. I popped the SIM card out of my old phone and dropped it into the trash can. I grabbed my coat, walked over to the front door, and placed my metal keycard neatly on the shoe rack. Goodbye, Finn. I pulled the door shut behind me, knowing I would never walk through it again. The night was pitch black. I stood alone on the train platform, the freezing wind whipping through my hair. The second I stepped into the train car, I used my new number to send a mass text message to every single guest on our list. The wedding is cancelled. The train lurched forward. The neon lights of the city blurred into colorful streaks, fading faster and faster into the distance. Miles away, Finn had just finished calming Sophie down. He was pulling his phone out, probably ready to call and yell at me for not caring about the accident. Instead, a notification popped up from the luxury wedding studio. “Dear Mr. Finn. As per the bride, Ms. Amy’s instructions from seven days ago, all wedding services have been permanently terminated. The cancellation notices to your guests have just been deployed. Have a nice evening.” Outside my window, the world was dark and peaceful. While he was burning with anxiety over another woman’s scratched knee, he had permanently lost his bride.

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1 To secure my daughter Poppy an internship, I came out of retirement and traded my proprietary core algorithm with my best friend’s firm for a three-month spot. Eager to impress, Poppy offered to help a male coworker organize files one evening. By the next morning, rumors exploded. She was accused of seduction and wrecking a marriage. Garrett’s wife slapped her in front of the entire office, weeping and threatening to jump. The team rallied around Garrett, calling Poppy a home-wrecker. I pulled her out, but that night his wife posted a carefully edited video that triggered a tidal wave of cyberbullying. Poppy just said she was tired and wanted to sleep. By the time I sensed something was wrong, she’d swallowed a lethal dose of sleeping pills and fell into a vegetative state. I suffered a catastrophic brain hemorrhage and was left paralyzed. In the months that followed, Garrett’s wife built a massive online following as the brave, faithful wife, dragging him onto reality shows and monetizing our tragedy. While my family was destroyed, I died in agony. When I opened my eyes again, my phone buzzed with a text from Poppy. … [I’m working late tonight to help a colleague sort some files.] My breathing hitched. My hands shook uncontrollably. Another message popped up instantly, accompanied by a cute sticker. [Mom worked so hard to get me this spot. I have to prove myself and make you proud!] My heart hammered against my ribs. I typed back at lightning speed. [It’s an emergency! Come home right now!] This time, under no circumstances would I let Poppy be alone with Garrett again! Minutes later, the front door unlocked. Poppy rushed inside, panic written all over her face, not even stopping to kick off her shoes. “What happened to Dad? Is everything okay?” Looking at her glowing, youthful face, tears nearly spilled from my eyes. In my past life, Poppy became a breathing corpse in a hospital bed. Everyone knew she was brain-dead and urged us to pull the plug. My husband and I refused to give up. We watched our vibrant, beautiful daughter swell up, lifeless and fading. It tore my heart into shreds. My mother-in-law brought old photos of Poppy to my bedside, sobbing as she begged me to let ourselves and the child go. I hesitated, paralyzed by grief. Until someone leaked Poppy’s hospital room address online. Trolls invaded the ICU, taking crude, humiliating photos of her limp body and spreading them across social media. The headlines screamed: Karma Hits Hard and The Fate of a Home-Wrecker. Garrett’s wife pinned Poppy’s face to her live-stream cover to drive traffic for her online shop. She put on a hypocritical show in her live streams, sighing heavily and telling her viewers not to be too harsh, right before pitching her products. The chat was filled with praises for her big heart and vicious insults claiming my daughter deserved to die. Her sales smashed new records. I was so consumed by rage that I suffered another stroke, completely paralyzed. Once a top-tier tech architect holding core industry patents, I was reduced to a drooling, helpless invalid. Eventually, our family couldn’t afford the medical bills for two bedridden patients. We had to bring Poppy home to let nature take its course. My mother-in-law died of heartbreak during the harsh winter. My husband’s hair turned completely white as he struggled to care for me, only to be crushed by a semi-truck on his way to fetch my medication, leaving nothing behind. By the time the police identified his remains, I had already suffered a fatal heart attack, dying alone in our cold apartment. Recalling every nightmare of that past life made my blood run cold. The culprits behind this tragedy weren’t just Garrett and his wife. There was also my so-called best friend. I masked the cold fury in my eyes and took my daughter’s hands. “Your father cooked a feast to celebrate your new job.” “That is the most important emergency right now.” In the previous life, when Poppy started her internship, David and I made a lavish dinner. We waited with excitement, only to get her text about working late. We knew how hard the job market was. Even though our savings could support her comfortably for the rest of her life, she wanted her own career and wanted to make us proud. We understood that. To avoid burdening her, we said nothing and never forced her to come home. We had no idea that silent understanding would lead to our total destruction. In this life, to hell with working overtime! Instead of being set up by snakes, we were going to sit down as a family and enjoy a proper meal. I scooped a huge portion of fish onto Poppy’s plate. She blinked, looking at me with a helpless smile. “How do I explain this to my coworker tomorrow?” “I promised to help, and now I’m at home eating a feast.” “He went through so much trouble to get me permission to enter the secure document vault. He’s going to be furious if I bail.” I raised an eyebrow and served her another piece of fish. “He’s just a colleague. Why do you owe him an explanation?” “Everyone at the office knows you have connections. You should use that pull to set boundaries.” “It’s a rare chance to put your foot down. Don’t waste it and end up taking the blame for someone else’s work.” Poppy blinked, biting her chopstick as she pondered my words. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She had always kept her struggles to herself so we wouldn’t worry. It wasn’t until everything collapsed in the past life that I realized the unbearable pressure she faced at work. Enduring psychological abuse just to build a resume was never worth it. I placed my hand over hers and met her eyes with absolute certainty. “You are your parents’ precious daughter. No one gets to bully you.” “Tomorrow, I’m taking you to resign. We can take our time finding a job. There’s no rush.” “If you want, I’ll teach you programming step by step myself!” Poppy froze, her expression torn, looking down in silence. Suddenly, her phone rang. Poppy casually hit the speakerphone button. Garrett’s anxious, sharp voice blared through the speaker. [Why did you leave? Didn’t you say you were going to help me?] [Who taught you to handle work like this!] [You only got this job through connections anyway! Aren’t you embarrassed to embarrass your family like this!] I snatched the phone straight out of my daughter’s hand and let out a cold laugh. “Helping you was an act of courtesy, not an invitation to walk all over her!” “If you can’t even finish your own basic workload, no wonder Ms. Mercer keeps denying your promotion!” “Looks like you’re the one next on the layoff list!” The line went completely dead before he abruptly hung up. Poppy stared at me in shock, swallowing hard. She reached out to take her phone back, but I held my hand over it firmly. She went back to eating her dinner in silence before taking a shower. As I was rinsing the dishes, the water running in the sink, a chime sounded. I glanced down at the screen. It was a text from Garrett. [Poppy, I was just overwhelmed earlier. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you.] [The workload is huge and I really can’t handle it alone. Please come back and help me!] [When the team has our next dinner, I’ll make sure you get integrated into the group.] [Don’t tell your mom. Just slip out quietly and come over.] I sneered. I immediately backed up the messages to my cloud drive and blocked Garrett’s number on her phone. I cut off his ability to harass Poppy once and for all. The next morning, I accompanied Poppy to the office. The moment we stepped through the glass doors of the suite, a shrill, hysterical screech erupted from the open floor. “Where is Poppy? Where is the little slut trying to seduce my husband!” “The Valley Firecracker isn’t someone you can mess with!” I frowned. Tessa was standing in the middle of the room, her eyes wide and scanning the cubicles like a mad dog. She held a phone recording in one hand while dragging a terrified female employee with the other. The employee was trembling, and the moment she saw Poppy, she pointed frantically. “That’s her! She’s Poppy!” Tessa snapped her head toward us, charging forward with terrifying speed. Whispers instantly broke out among the surrounding employees. “That’s what happens with nepo babies. They have zero skills, so they rely on cheap tricks to get ahead.” “The manager asked Garrett to train her, and Garrett took her everywhere last week. She probably thought he had big pull!” “She offered to work late with him yesterday. Two people in a closed room, she probably couldn’t wait to jump a married man!” “How shameless. Here I thought she was just an innocent little rookie.” I shot a freezing glare at the two gossiping women and tightened my grip on my heavy leather handbag. The two women instantly shrank back, shutting their mouths and looking away. Poppy was shaking violently beside me. She shook her head, looking at her colleagues in utter desperation. “I didn’t! That’s not true!” “I offered to help because Garrett was mentoring me recently!” “I wanted to pull my weight and show I was working hard!” “I had a family emergency yesterday, so I went straight home! We were never alone together!” Her colleagues exchanged knowing, sarcastic smirks. They stood on the sidelines, enjoying the drama and tossing fuel on the fire. It was the exact same scene from my past life. Except this time, I didn’t burst into helpless tears while trying to explain. I held Poppy’s trembling hand tightly, looking at her with immovable strength. “A bunch of clueless bystanders. Talking to them is a waste of breath.” “You did nothing wrong. You don’t owe them an explanation!” “Stay calm!” She froze, bit her lip, and gave me a firm nod. Suddenly, Tessa lunged forward aggressively, calling Poppy a lying whore and reaching out to grab her hair. Without a second thought, I swung my heavy leather tote with full force, smashing it straight into Tessa’s phone and sending it flying across the room. Tessa turned to me in a murderous fury, spewing a torrent of profanities. I swung the bag a second time, slamming it directly into her mouth. Tessa staggered back, falling onto her butt on the carpet, holding her bloody lip in absolute shock. I swept a freezing glance across the open office. “A company this size doesn’t even have security?” “What are we paying you useless people for!” Dead silence descended upon the floor. The security guards who should have been on duty were nowhere to be seen. Garrett’s face turned pale as he rushed forward to embrace his crying wife. “We’re just small fish, how could we ever compete with people like you?” “She has Ms. Mercer backing her! If we cross them, we’ll be blacklisted from the entire industry!” “Poppy, let me give you one last piece of advice!” “Focus on honest work instead of using seduction to climb the corporate ladder!” Garrett shook his head with dramatic disappointment. Poppy was shaking with rage. I walked straight up to Garrett with an icy face. The moment he raised his head, I raised my palm and slapped him across the face. “What kind of garbage are you! Take a look in the mirror!” “You look like a bloated pig! Only a pig-obsessed woman like your wife would think you’re a prize!” Garrett’s expression darkened instantly. He scrambled to his feet, yelling that I was committing assault. Tessa went completely insane, grabbing a heavy potted plant from a desk and smashing it onto the floor. The office turned into pure chaos. Security was nowhere in sight, and the coworkers stood by doing nothing. Tessa sobbed hysterically, screaming that we were abusing our power, threatening to jump out of the eighteenth-floor window. I walked over and pushed the window wide open for her. “Jump!” Tessa faltered, her hands slipping slightly from the window frame. Seeing this, Garrett rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Honey, don’t do anything crazy!” “She’s the one who destroyed our family and sent you provocative texts to rub it in!” “Just because her mother is a big shot, are we supposed to suffer in silence?” “Our life is ruined by her! Why should she get away with it? Let’s expose her online!” Heavy footsteps sounded from the hallway. My best friend, Mia, walked in, her brow furrowed in deep annoyance. “What is all this noise!” “The CEO is coming by for an inspection shortly. Do you all want to get fired!” The moment she spoke, the employees scrambled back to their cubicles. Garrett held his wife, tears streaming down his face, acting as if the entire world owed them justice. Mia turned to me, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “Evelyn? What are you doing here?” I looked at her, my smile not reaching my eyes. “As an executive, is this how you manage your staff?” “Garrett begged my daughter for help, and now he fabricates lies out of thin air to slander her! How do you even hire people like this!” Mia’s eyes widened slightly. She immediately snapped at Garrett. Garrett’s face shifted, and he pulled out his phone. “I didn’t want to ruin her completely, but your mother refuses to let it go.” “Your own mother is destroying your reputation! I’ve been more than generous!” Garrett opened a text message thread. On the screen was an explicit image of a scantily clad woman. And the face belonged to my daughter. “Look for yourselves!” “She has no shame! She sent this photo directly to my phone!” “Look closely at the sender’s number!” Gasping sounds rippled through the office. Poppy snatched the phone, all color draining from her face. She broke down in tears, protesting that she never took or sent such a picture. But the phone number matched hers perfectly. Mia let out a loud cough, signaling Garrett to put the phone away. She shot a look at my daughter, her face filled with undisguised disgust. “You really have no self-respect.” “He has a happy family. Why do you have to ruin it, and get exposed in public?” “If I were you, I’d jump out that window right now!” Poppy’s knees buckled in terror as she wept uncontrollably. I pulled her into my arms, standing as steady as a mountain. Garrett held his swollen cheek and spoke up again. “The CEO asked me to mentor the new intern, so of course I tried my best. Who knew it would turn into a nightmare!” “Ever since she started, Poppy constantly tried to be alone with me!” “Once we got familiar, she started making physical contact!” “Yesterday when I was drowning in work, she volunteered to help. Everyone in the office heard her!” “I thought she was being helpful, so I put in a request for archive access.” “She knew the secure document vault didn’t have security cameras inside, so she took advantage of it! She stripped completely naked right in front of me!” “She said if I gave her a good review to ensure her full-time conversion, she’d make it worth my while! I refused, so she tried to force herself on me! Then she sent me this photo, threatening to send it to my wife!” “I have a happy marriage! Why are you trying to ruin me!” Garrett looked utterly broken. I felt nauseous listening to his ridiculous lies. I held my trembling daughter tight, holding back the urge to tear him apart with my bare hands! Mia coughed softly again, signaling Garrett to stop talking. Across the room, the employees pretended to work while staring intently at my daughter. Their gazes were like sharp daggers, flaying her alive. “Evelyn, take Poppy home for now.” “Everyone needs to calm down. Making a scene benefits no one.” “The CEO is arriving later. I’ll explain the situation to her.” “Though as for your daughter’s internship… I’m afraid…” Mia put on an apologetic, helpless smile. “I’m just worried about the firm’s reputation. Even though you’re old friends with Ms. Mercer, ruining the company’s image leaves us no choice but to take strict disciplinary action.” I ignored Mia’s words entirely, keeping Poppy securely behind my back. I stood tall, looking down at Garrett with icy contempt. “The document vault holds our core proprietary assets. Access permissions require multi-tiered administrative approvals.” “If anyone enters without authorization, the system administrator receives an immediate alert.” “When we had a near-data leak previously, Ms. Mercer held multiple meetings demanding an upgrade to the security architecture, but even you, Mia, failed to solve the vulnerability.” “Yet just days before Poppy joined, a breakthrough miraculously occurred.” “Tell me, who built that system upgrade?” “I am the top system administrator of this entire company!” I folded my arms, letting out a cold, mocking laugh at Garrett. “I never approved Poppy’s request to enter the document vault last night.” “So how exactly did she enter?” “You sound so confident claiming her access was approved, without even verifying the system logs.” “The previous administrator was Mia. Do the two of you share some dirty little secret?”

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1 I was booking a table for our seventh anniversary when glowing text appeared: [Would you like to join a Loyalty Game? We’ll awaken a System for your wife. If she tells you, you win one million dollars.] Married seven years, I had no doubt. That million was mine. Curious, I thought: [What if I lose?] [Then we grant you a mysterious grand prize to reboot your life. Cost: you’ll be broadcast to another dimension.] I didn’t care about the prize. I was already picturing the luxury apartment I’d buy my wife. I hit accept and rushed home. Walking through the door, Kathy looked panicked. She brushed me off and sprinted into the study. Through the oak door, I heard her on the phone with her childhood best friend Noah. “Noah, I just awakened a Doomsday System. The apocalypse is coming! I’m building a safe house. I promise I’ll keep you safe. I am absolutely not telling Henry. The person I want to survive with is you.” I froze. Her Doomsday System was fake. But the countdown for my mysterious grand prize had definitely just started. … Right at that moment, the glowing chat feed popped up in front of my eyes again. [Look at Henry standing there all shocked. His wife and Noah have been hooking up for years. They’ve worn out the mattress by now.] [Bro was literally booking an anniversary dinner, not knowing his wife and Noah are celebrating their four year cheating anniversary tomorrow.] [I just hope this guy wakes up and gets a divorce. The last few guys who lost the game walked away with at least five million in cash. The prizes keep getting better. I can’t even imagine what his grand prize is going to be.] The chat was going wild, guessing if I was about to become insanely rich overnight. I couldn’t focus on any of that. My knuckles turned bone-white as I gripped my phone. My chest tightened so hard I could barely pull air into my lungs. Ever since our third anniversary, when I got stuck at work and missed midnight, Kathy had thrown a fit every single year. She flat out refused to celebrate with me anymore. I thought I had deeply hurt her, so I worked myself to the bone, grinding for bonuses just to make it up to her. Only today did the ugly truth finally hit me. Every time she stormed out on our anniversary, she was just making an excuse to go celebrate with him. I gritted my teeth, tasting copper in my mouth. Inside the study, Kathy was already plotting her post-apocalyptic life with Noah. “We can just buy one of those abandoned warehouses out by the rust belt. It won’t cost much, but retrofitting it and stocking up on supplies will be expensive. How much cash do you have on hand?” “I’m broke.” Kathy sounded frantic. “What do you mean? I just transferred thirty thousand to you last month!” “I bought a new truck and went on a road trip. That thirty grand is long gone.” Their words felt like a serrated blade twisting directly into my heart. After we got married, Kathy insisted we needed to save for a bigger house. She took control of our finances. I was making twelve thousand a month, but she only let me keep two hundred bucks for pocket money. Everything else went straight to her. Seven years. I had been scraping by, denying myself everything for seven damn years, only to find out my hard earned money was funding Noah’s luxury lifestyle. Just last month, my mom was rushed to the ER for acute appendicitis. The surgery cost over thirty thousand dollars. I begged Kathy for the money. She looked me dead in the eye and said it was locked in a fixed term mutual fund. She told me to figure it out myself. It was a sweltering heatwave that day. I was so stressed about the medical bills that I walked all the way home from the office to save on gas. When I passed the convenience store by our neighborhood, I was sweating through my shirt. The cheap slushies in the freezer were exactly one dollar. I stood in front of that glass door for a full minute before walking away. I told myself that every dollar saved was a dollar closer to paying for my mom’s surgery. I was starving myself to save my mother’s life. And she was using my blood, sweat, and tears to bankroll her lover for four years. The suffocating agony of betrayal instantly hardened into pure, unadulterated hatred. Noah was already brainstorming new ways for Kathy to get cash. “Just max out a bunch of payday loans. The world is ending anyway. Once society collapses, who cares about a credit score? Any money we can borrow right now is basically free cash.” “We’ll each take out five hundred grand first. Then make your husband borrow a couple million.” A dark, bitter laugh escaped my lips. Even now, they were still trying to bleed me dry. Kathy went silent for a few seconds. “Henry might not agree to that.” “Plus, we’re legally married. He’s going to find out about the massive debt. What do we do then?” A long pause stretched through the door before Noah finally spoke. “There’s only one way. We scorch the earth.” Before Kathy could ask what he meant, Noah hung up. Kathy stayed locked in the study. Fifteen minutes later, the front doorbell rang. It was Noah. He stood on my porch, looking down his nose at me with a sickening smirk. “Henry. We need to talk.” Without waiting for an invitation, he pushed past me into the living room. He stood right in the center, looking around the place like he was inspecting his future property. Hearing the commotion, Kathy rushed out of the study. She looked at him in total panic. “What are you doing here so late?” She kept shooting him desperate looks, but Noah ignored her completely. He turned to me. “Henry, I’ll give it to you straight. Kathy and I have been together for four years.” “Noah, are you insane?” Kathy screamed at him, then frantically grabbed my arm. “Honey, please don’t listen to his bullshit.” “I’m not bullshitting!” Noah roared back. “Kathy, look at the time! We don’t need to hide this anymore.” “Henry, the only reason Kathy even married you was because I was going abroad for college, and her mom was stuck in the hospital. You were the pathetic idiot running around fetching things for them.” “Her mom thought you were safe. That’s why she pushed Kathy to marry you.” “If it wasn’t for keeping her sick mother happy, she never would have looked twice at you. You were just Option B while I was gone. Do you get it now?” Seven years ago, Kathy’s mom had a severe tumor that required major surgery. I worked all day and spent every night sleeping on a plastic chair in her hospital room for twelve days straight. The day her mom was discharged, she held my hands with tears in her eyes. “Henry, you are a good man. I feel completely safe leaving my daughter in your hands.” Kathy had stood next to us, her head bowed in silence. I thought she was just shy. Turns out, she was disgusted by the idea of marrying me. A hollow smile crept onto my face. I thought I couldn’t feel any more pain after hearing they had been sleeping together. But hearing that I was never loved to begin with, that my entire marriage was a setup, felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water directly over my soul. I looked at Kathy one last time. “Is he telling the truth?” Her lips trembled. Her eyes darted frantically between me and Noah, weighing her options for the end of the world. “Then let’s get a divorce.” My face was completely completely blank, but my mind was doing the math. She was going to start applying for payday loans tomorrow. Three or four platforms at once, probably pulling in a few hundred thousand dollars minimum. If I filed the papers before she signed those loans, that mountain of debt wouldn’t have a damn thing to do with me. “No!” Tears spilled down Kathy’s cheeks. I was stunned. Noah looked equally shocked. Kathy sobbed, clutching her chest. “I won’t divorce you!” “Henry, I know how good you’ve been to me all these years. You warm my milk every night. You rub my shoulders. You always have dinner waiting no matter how late I get home. I just cannot lose you.” “How about this. You keep the title of my husband, but my heart belongs to him.” “We can keep living exactly like we used to. I’ll just go out and see him sometimes.” “Shut up.” I cut her off. Bile was rising in my throat. Swallowing down the absolute disgust, I turned to glare at Noah. “She clearly has no shame, but surely you have some?” “She is still my legal wife. Who the hell are you to come into my house?” “A neighbor? A buddy? The side piece?” “You act so tough, but you can’t even get her to commit to you publicly. You really think she loves you?” Noah’s face contorted into something ugly. He whipped around to glare at Kathy. “What the hell does this mean?” “Did you forget what happens in a month? If you don’t divorce him, he’ll freeze your assets and you won’t be able to pull out the cash! What are you going to do then?” Seeing Kathy still hesitating, I seized the opening. “What happens in a month? Why do you need so much cash?” Kathy turned pale as a ghost and shot Noah a lethal glare. She turned to me, words tumbling out in a rush. “It has nothing to do with you!” “Kathy, we are legally married. How does massive financial movement have nothing to do with me?” “Fine! We’ll divorce!” The exact second the words left her mouth, a line of text floated across my vision. [Hidden Reward Triggered: Successfully divorce within thirty-five days to double the prize pool.] The prize pool doubled, but I couldn’t find it in myself to smile. Even now, she was lying to my face to protect her fake Doomsday System. I walked straight into the study and grabbed a pen and paper. “If we’re doing this, we do it right now. We write down exactly how the assets are split in black and white.” “You’ve been hoarding both our paychecks for years. There has to be at least half a million in there. I won’t even ask you to leave with nothing. Just give me my half.” Kathy panicked and looked at Noah for help. Noah pulled her aside and hissed in a harsh whisper. “Don’t fight him on this. I’ll take out a million dollar loan right now. Give him three hundred grand so he shuts up and gets out of our way. We have bigger things to prepare for.” “Besides, a month from now, even if we owe ten million dollars, the banks won’t exist to collect it.” Reassured by Noah’s delusional logic, Kathy signed the makeshift agreement without another word. The very next morning, Noah wired three hundred thousand dollars into my account. When he showed me the transfer screen, he purposely let me see his balance. It wasn’t one million. It was two million. He smirked and told me he had cash to burn, as long as I got lost. I just smiled back. I sincerely hoped he would keep that same energy in a month when the debt collectors came knocking. After finalizing the paperwork, I took a few days off work. It was the most peaceful stretch of time I had experienced in seven years. I didn’t have to wait on Kathy hand and foot. I slept until noon. I ate whatever I wanted. And I had a live feed of their impending disaster via the dimensional chat. They bought an abandoned industrial warehouse on the outskirts of the city and blew a fortune turning it into a fortress. Then came the panic buying. Pallets of rice, oil, and flour. Mountains of medical supplies. They even spent eighty thousand dollars on military surplus MREs, which the chat gleefully informed me were three years expired. Their initial two million dried up fast. Working together, they took out another two million in high interest loans. Four million dollars of toxic debt hanging over their heads, and they were completely oblivious, working day and night with bright smiles on their faces. I was genuinely counting down the days to see their faces when the sky didn’t fall. I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with them until then. Then my phone rang. It was my mother. “Henry, there are men at the door! They’re saying our house has been put up for collateral and they want me out. What is going on?” My vision went white. The chat scrolled rapidly, putting the pieces together for me. Kathy and Noah had run out of cash. The lenders wouldn’t give them another dime, so Kathy secretly forged documents to mortgage my mother’s house! My entire body shook with rage. “Mom, do not open that door. I am on my way!” When I pulled up, four massive guys in leather jackets were blocking the porch. One of them was raising a crowbar to the lock. “Back off!” I roared, sprinting across the lawn. “This is my property. What the hell are you doing?” The lead guy, a bald brute with a neck tattoo, looked me up and down. He shoved a crumpled contract against my chest. “Who the hell are you?” “Open your eyes and read. Kathy put this house up as collateral for a three hundred thousand dollar bridge loan. We’re here to do the pre-loan inspection.” I looked down at the signature. It was Kathy’s handwriting. “You mortgaged my mother’s house?” I spun around, finding Kathy standing near a rented truck with Noah. She didn’t even flinch. “I just need the liquidity right now. The divorce isn’t totally finalized in the system yet. What’s the big deal if I use it for a bit?” “I’m going to pay it back before the due date anyway. It’s not like I’m actually kicking your mom out.” “You can’t touch this house even if we were still married!” I screamed. “Legally, this property belongs to my mother. You have zero claim to it. Using forged documents to get a loan is felony fraud!” Hearing the word fraud, the loan sharks immediately stepped back, their expressions hardening. Noah saw his money slipping away and lunged forward. “Shut your mouth, Henry! The paperwork is real!” He grabbed me by the collar and dropped his voice to a venomous whisper. “Listen to me, you pathetic loser. In one month, society is going to burn. Nobody is going to care about this dusty old house.” “But if you ruin my cash flow today, I swear to God I will beat you to death right here.” “Try it.” I stared dead into his eyes. Hearing the screaming outside, my mom got terrified that I was getting hurt. She unbolted the door. She reached out to pull me inside, but one of the thugs used the opening to shove his way in. The heavy wooden door slammed backward. It caught my mom right in the chest, sending her flying backward. The back of her head cracked sickeningly against the sharp edge of the doorframe. “Mom!” I shoved Noah back and dove to catch her. Blood was instantly pooling on the floorboards. The loan sharks realized things had escalated way out of control and bolted for their cars. Noah, terrified of getting arrested right before his precious apocalypse, grabbed Kathy and fled the scene. I pressed my trembling hands against the gash on my mother’s head and dialed 911. The ambulance arrived in minutes. After a frantic hour in the ER, the doctor confirmed the bleeding was stopped and there was no severe brain damage. But when she woke up, my mother just cried, gripping my shirt, begging me not to let Kathy take her home. I held her fragile hands tightly. “Mom, I promise you. Nobody is taking your house. And the people who did this to you are going to pay. Every single one of them.” While she slept, I got on the phone with the most ruthless litigation lawyer in the city. The forged contract was a slam dunk. Getting the deed cleared was just a matter of time. I was planning to let them enjoy their delusion for a few more days before dropping the hammer. But the very people who put my mother in the hospital decided to come for me first. The day before my mom was scheduled for discharge, I walked out of the hospital lobby. A beaten up cargo van suddenly slid to a halt next to me. The side door flew open. Before I could even register the threat, something heavy and metal slammed into the back of my skull. Everything went black. When I finally opened my eyes, the smell of diesel and stale air hit me first. I was tied tightly to a metal chair. I recognized the space immediately. It was the warehouse Kathy and Noah had bought for the end of the world. Noah was standing in front of me, decked out in full tactical gear like he was cosplaying a warlord from a bad movie. Behind him stood Kathy and about eight massive, mean looking guys who looked like hired muscle. I yanked at the zip ties, screaming at him. “Are you out of your mind, Noah? This is kidnapping! You’re going to rot in a cell!” Noah just threw his head back and laughed. He glanced back at Kathy. Kathy looked at me with cold, dead eyes. “Half an hour left.” “Half an hour until what?” I spat blood onto the concrete. Noah took a slow, theatrical step toward me. “Henry, did you notice the weather today? Pretty strange, right?” “It’s a localized storm front, you idiot! The clouds will clear in an hour.” “Wrong!” Noah screamed, his face twisting with manic joy. “It’s not a storm. It’s the apocalypse. The world ends in exactly thirty minutes.” “Kathy and I got the intel a month ago. Since you used to be her husband, and you practically funded our lives for years, I’m feeling generous. I’ll let you stay in our safe house.” “But only if you get on your knees right now and slam your forehead into the concrete one hundred times.” “You need psychiatric help! What apocalypse? You’ve completely lost your mind!” Before I could finish, Noah’s tactical glove cracked across my jaw. I thrashed against the chair, trying to kick him, but two of the hired goons slammed me down against the floor. Noah knelt over me, digging his fingers brutally into my jaw. “Say one more word, and I’ll shatter every bone in your face!” “Do it!” I snarled through the pain. “I have a dead man’s switch on my phone app. The cops already have my location. If you touch me again, you’re going to spend the rest of your life in federal prison!” The goons holding my arms flinched, their grips loosening slightly. Noah just scoffed. “Call the cops! Call the military! The world is ending! The cops are going to be too busy eating each other to care about you!” “What are you idiots standing around for?” he yelled at his muscle. “Did he actually scare you?” “The rules are gone! Even if you kill him right now, no judge will ever see you! But if you go easy on him, I’ll lock you all outside when the fallout hits!” That was all it took. The hired muscle swarmed me. Heavy steel toed boots rained down on my ribs, my back, my legs. I curled into a tight ball, trying to protect my head, but there were too many of them. Just as the agonizing pain pushed me right to the edge of blacking out, Kathy let out a piercing shriek. “The timer! Ten seconds! The apocalypse is here!” Instantly, the warehouse went dead silent. The boots stopped. Everyone stared at Kathy, holding their breath. Three. Two. One! Outside the high frosted windows, nothing happened. A ray of golden sunlight actually broke through the clouds. But a second later, a massive, deafening crash echoed through the building. “It’s here! The end of the world is here!” Noah screamed in sheer ecstasy. Then came the voice. “FREEZE! POLICE! GET ON THE GROUND!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “618646”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Vincent’s strict rules took effect on the second day of our marriage. “Monthly personal spending is capped at fifteen hundred dollars.” “Any single purchase over one hundred dollars requires a receipt and my prior approval.” “I’m not being stingy, Nina. I’m helping you build good financial habits. You’ve always been reckless with money.” Back then, I thought he made sense. So for three years, I deliberated for half a month over buying a jacket, and waited days for his text approval just to replace my contact lenses. Until last month, when I found a credit card statement tucked inside the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Cardholder: Brooke, his executive coordinator. Transactions from the past three months: A luxury boutique: $12,000. A high-end SPA annual membership: $4,500. A Michelin-starred restaurant: $2,000. The total exceeded my personal allowance for two whole years. I folded the statement and slipped it back into his pocket, exactly as I had found it. When he came home that evening, he saw me writing in my ledger. “How much did you spend today?” he asked casually. I didn’t even look up. “One hundred and twenty dollars. Sixty-three for groceries, fifty-seven for utilities.” He hummed in satisfaction and walked into his study. What I wrote on the last page of that ledger wasn’t a set of numbers. It was my signature. Signed at the bottom of a divorce agreement he hadn’t seen yet. … The next morning, Vincent flipped to the last page of my ledger. The divorce papers were tucked underneath the drawer lining, so he missed them. He only saw the rows of meticulously written figures. “Why were the utilities twelve dollars higher yesterday than last month?” He tapped his finger against the page, his voice completely calm. “It was cold. The water heater ran a little longer.” “Nina, twelve dollars isn’t much, but bad habits start small.” He pulled out his fountain pen and wrote next to the entry: Control consumption. I stared at those words, suddenly feeling that three years was an eternity. Long enough for him to forget that before our marriage, I had never kept a single ledger in my life. My mother called right then. She coughed twice and asked gently, “Nina, the hospital said the follow-up MRI needs a contrast injection. Six hundred and eighty dollars seems so expensive. Maybe a regular scan is enough?” I gripped my phone tight. “It’s not too expensive, Mom. Get the contrast scan.” Vincent glanced up at me. Once the call ended, he opened our shared family account app on his phone with practiced ease. “What scan?” “My mom’s post-op checkup. Six hundred and eighty dollars.” “Didn’t she just get checked last month?” “The doctor saw a shadow and wants to confirm.” Vincent frowned. “Let her do the basic one first. Contrast scans are just hospitals trying to boost revenue. She’s getting older, and contrast dye is hard on the kidneys anyway.” With a flick of his thumb, he tapped Reject. I stared at him. “The specialist explicitly recommended the contrast.” “The specialist isn’t paying the bills.” He set his phone face down on the table. “You always let your anxiety take over and believe whatever people tell you.” The landline in his study rang. Vincent answered it, his tone visibly softening. “Brooke, what’s wrong?” Her voice leaked through the speaker. “Vincent, about that necklace for the brand launch? The jeweler says the security deposit is three thousand dollars. Should I pay out of pocket first?” “No need. Swipe the corporate secondary card.” “Won’t finance flag me for going over budget?” Vincent chuckled softly. “It’s for work. Don’t waste time worrying about small change.” I lowered my head and transferred six hundred and eighty dollars to my mother. The money came from an old bank account I had kept from before our marriage. The moment the transfer went through, Vincent’s phone buzzed with a notification. He saw the alert on the family asset management app, and his face instantly darkened. “Where did you get that money?” “It was left over from before we got married.” “Didn’t I tell you all household funds need to be managed together?” “That money is for my mother’s test.” “I never said I wouldn’t pay. I just wanted to verify if it was necessary first.” He snatched my phone and linked my old account into the shared family portal. “Don’t spend money behind my back again, Nina. Honesty is the foundation of a marriage.” He sounded so righteous. As if I were the one who had committed a crime. Before Vincent left for work, I habitually reached out to adjust his tie. The moment my fingers brushed his collar, the memory of that secondary card statement flashed in my mind. My hand slowly pulled back. He didn’t notice. He just glanced at his watch. “I have rehearsals for the launch event tonight, so I won’t be back for dinner. Don’t buy too many groceries, food spoils if left too long.” After the door clicked shut, I booked the appointment for my mother. That afternoon, an invitation to a brand launch arrived in my inbox. It was Davenport Group’s new line of high jewelry, named Lumina. The lead designer listed on the invitation was Brooke. I opened the digital brochure. The cover feature was a half-moon crescent brooch. It was identical to the sketch locked in my study drawer. Beneath the image was a single line of text: [Created by Brooke after three quiet years, dedicated to every woman trapped inside a marriage.] I pushed open the study door. The drawer holding my sketches was completely empty. “I told Brooke to take those sketches.” Vincent didn’t deny it when he returned home. “You were just sitting around doing nothing anyway. Brooke can turn them into real pieces. It’s not a waste.” I stood by the dining table. “I drew those.” “I know.” “Why is her name on the booklet?” Vincent studied me for a few seconds, as if weighing how to explain a simple concept to a child. “Because she handled the sourcing, the production, and the marketing. Nina, a few loose sketches aren’t a final product. Stop confusing a casual hobby with a professional career.” “I was a jewelry designer before we got married.” “Your little boutique turned a net profit of less than a hundred and fifty thousand a year.” His voice was indifferent. “Davenport Group invested five million in this launch. Could you afford the cost of failure?” I gave no answer. Three years ago, when he asked me to close down my studio, he used the exact same excuse. He said it was for my own good. He said my stomach was fragile and I shouldn’t pull late nights. He said he could provide for me. Back then, I handed over my client lists, locked my keys in the drawer, and truly believed I had been blessed with the safest marriage in the world. Only now did I realize that someone who is kept has no right to claim ownership. “Add my name as co-designer,” I said. Vincent picked up a glass of water, his tone growing cool. “We can discuss it after the launch.” “I want it changed now.” “Nina, stop acting throwing a tantrum at a time like this.” He set the glass down. The water sloshed inside. “Brooke has worked herself to the bone for four months for this event. If you jump out now to demand credit, how will the team look at her?” “She worked for four months. I drew for four years.” “So what?” Vincent looked up, his eyes cold and logical. “You want everyone to know that the CEO’s wife sat idle at home for three years and suddenly popped up to ride her husband’s coattails?” My nails dug deep into my palms. He always had a way of twisting things, wrapping my legitimate work into something shameful. The next day, I went to Davenport headquarters. Brooke was inside the main conference room trying on jewelry. Seeing me, she raised her wrist, showing off a delicate, translucent jade bangle. It was my mother’s wedding gift to me. “Mrs. Davenport, you arrived just in time. Could you check if this piece suits the featured set?” I walked over. “Take it off.” Her smile stiffened slightly. “Vincent said the showcase needed a touch of classic heritage. He let me borrow it for a few days.” “That belongs to me.” “I know.” She gently stroked the polished surface, her voice dropping to a whisper. “But Vincent said leaving it in your jewelry box just collects dust. It’s better off creating real value.” There were over a dozen staff members sitting around the table. Some pretended to read documents, while others stared straight ahead, pretending to be deaf. When Vincent pushed the door open, Brooke was pretending to slip the bangle off. “What’s going on?” With tear-filled eyes, she whispered, “Nina doesn’t like me wearing it. I’m taking it off right now.” Vincent placed a hand over hers, stopping her. “The promotional shoot starts in ten minutes. Changing the look now will ruin the schedule.” Only then did he turn to me. “It’s just a bracelet. She’ll return it as soon as the launch ends.” “It belongs to my mother.” “Your mother gave it to you, which makes it yours. Lending it to a colleague for a day isn’t something to throw a fit over.” Brooke chimed in softly, “Vincent, please don’t argue with Nina because of me. It’s fine if we skip my promo shots.” “The whole production team has been waiting for two hours. How can we just cancel?” Vincent handed her a corporate expense slip. “The deposit for the necklace is approved. I added seven thousand to your wardrobe budget as well. Don’t scrimp.” He turned back to me, as if suddenly remembering something. “Did your mother’s test results come back?” “This afternoon.” “If there’s no major issue, stop making her run to the hospital over nothing. Travel expenses add up.” The room fell dead silent. Brooke lowered her eyes, but a subtle curl lingered at the corner of her lips. My phone rang. It was the hospital. The doctor informed me that the shadow looked suspicious. They advised immediate hospitalization for surgery, requiring a four-thousand-five-hundred-dollar deposit. I submitted the expense request right in front of Vincent. He glanced at the notification on his screen. “Four thousand five hundred dollars is not a small sum. I’ll talk to the specialist first.” “The surgical bed is only held until this afternoon.” “Then let them release it. If it were truly an emergency, they wouldn’t turn a patient away over a deposit delay.” He tapped Hold Approval. A brand assistant hurried over right then. “Brooke, the rush fee for the couture gown logistics comes out to seven thousand dollars.” Brooke pulled out a card and handed it over. “Charge it here.” As the POS machine spat out the receipt, Vincent’s phone screen lit up. A notification popped up: Secondary Card Transaction: $7,000. He glanced at it once, then casually flipped his phone face down on the table. I went straight to a jeweler and sold my diamond wedding ring. The buyout offer was six thousand dollars, just enough to cover my mother’s hospital deposit. As the clerk placed the ring into a sealed bag, she asked, “Are you sure you want to go through with this? There’s an inscription inside the band.” I shook my head. “It’s fine.” That ring had originally cost forty thousand dollars. Vincent had placed it on my finger himself, promising he would never let me worry about money again. Now, it was worth just enough for one surgery. When I returned from the hospital, Vincent was sitting in the living room. The buyback receipt from the pawn shop sat on the glass coffee table. “Where is your ring?” “Sold.” “Why couldn’t you wait for my approval?” “My mother couldn’t wait.” His jaw tightened. “I spoke with a consultant. The surgery could easily have been postponed by a week.” “They would have given the bed to someone else today.” “Then we would have found another hospital.” “The lead surgeon only had availability this week.” I bent down to change my shoes, my voice barely audible. “I paid for it with my own ring. You don’t have to bear a single cent.” Vincent stood up and grabbed my wrist. His grip wasn’t painful, but it held me firmly in place. “Nina, do you really have to push me like this?” “Pushing you how?” “Pushing me to play the bad guy who doesn’t care about your mother, forcing me to bow my head to you over a few thousand dollars!” I looked at him, completely speechless. So in his eyes, my mother’s life was nothing more than a bargaining chip for me to win an argument. Vincent let go of my wrist and pulled a black metal card from his wallet. “There’s fifty thousand in this account. The PIN is your birthday. Go buy the ring back. Don’t make the Davenport family look like a joke to outsiders.” My reflexes moved faster than my mind. I reached out to take it. Just then, his phone screen flashed. Brooke sent a picture of herself wearing my jade bangle alongside the twelve-thousand-dollar necklace. Her message read: Vincent, will you come with me to meet the investors tonight? I’m nervous going alone. Vincent withdrew the card and slid it back into his wallet. “Go to the hospital first. I have a business dinner tonight.” “My mother has surgery tomorrow morning. A family member needs to sign the consent form.” “Your signature is enough.” “She’s been asking to see you.” “After the launch.” He grabbed his jacket, stepping toward the door before pausing. “Come to the showcase tomorrow night. Brooke said having the designer’s family present creates better press. Don’t wear anything too shabby. I’ll have my assistant send over a dress.” The evening before my mother’s surgery, Simon came to the hospital. He was a former legal advisor to my late father, and someone I had known since childhood. He handed me a thick manila folder. “Your father left you a proxy trust for thirty-two percent of Davenport Group shares. It expires next month. You never reached out, so I had to bring it to you in person.” I froze. “What shares?” “Thirty-two percent,” Simon said, looking into my eyes. “When Vincent was starting the business, your father provided the initial seed capital under your name. After your wedding, you signed a proxy agreement transferring voting rights to Vincent for three years.” Memories flooded back. Right before our wedding, Vincent had brought me a stack of papers. He told me they were for setting up a joint account and updating insurance beneficiaries. I hadn’t read a single line. I had just signed where he pointed. “And when the three years are up?” “You can choose to renew it, or you can revoke it immediately.” The hospital room door swung open. Vincent stood at the entrance, his eyes locking onto the document folder in Simon’s hand. “What are you doing here?” Simon stood up calmly. “I’m helping Nina sign the surgical consent form.” “She has a husband. She doesn’t need your help.” Vincent walked in, placing another set of documents on the table in front of me. “The brand launch requires a formal design release. Sign this, and I’ll have accounting reimburse all of your mother’s medical expenses.” I flipped to the final page. The scope of the release covered all of my design work, both before and after our marriage, granting perpetual rights to the company. “And if I don’t sign?” Vincent’s expression remained completely unbothered. “Then we follow company policy for reimbursement requests. I can’t guarantee every medication your mother needs will pass approval.” My mother’s quiet voice came from behind the privacy curtain. “Nina, is Vincent here?” Hearing the faint sound of gurneys rolling down the hallway outside, I picked up the pen. Vincent held down the edge of the paper, reminding me softly, “Sign your full name, Nina. Don’t make a mistake.” I wrote out Nina Shen, stroke by stroke. As the tip of the pen lifted off the paper, my mother let out a quiet, heavy sigh from behind the curtain. “Nina, I allowed you to marry him back then because he promised me he would never make you bow your head.” Vincent’s fingers rigidified slightly. A nurse pushed open the door. “Family members please step back, we’re moving the patient to the operating room.” He snatched up the signed agreement, avoiding my eyes. Before the launch event began, the assistant delivered a dress that was a size too large at the waist. The price tag still bore Brooke’s name. It was a piece she had tried on and rejected. I didn’t wear it. Instead, I wore a simple black dress I had bought three years ago. The collar was slightly faded. Vincent stood behind me, clasping a simple necklace around my neck. “Don’t mention design credits tonight, and don’t bring up your mother’s hospitalization.” “Investors don’t like founders with complicated baggage.” In the mirror, he was standing behind me, his touch as meticulous as ever. For a fleeting second, I almost forced myself to believe that he was just overly focused on his career. Until Brooke pushed the door open. She was dressed in the Lumina series’ showpiece gown, my mother’s jade bangle gleaming on her wrist. “Vincent, the press has arrived.” Vincent fastened the final hidden button on my dress and stepped back. “Nina, take a seat in the second row. If reporters ask, tell them you’ve always supported Brooke’s creative vision.” I turned around. “Those designs are mine.” “You signed the release contract.” “I signed an authorization, not a waiver of authorship.” Brooke inhaled softly. “Maybe we should just credit Nina publicly tonight. Even if the brand gets pulled from the showcase and investors sue us, I don’t want Nina to feel mistreated.” Vincent turned his gaze on me, his tone dropping below freezing. “Are you satisfied now?” Those four words felt like a brutal slap across the face. I didn’t argue further. Halfway through the presentation, the host invited Brooke onto the stage. The massive LED screens displayed twenty-four pieces of high jewelry, one by one. Every single one of them originated from my sketches. Finally, the centerpiece appeared on screen, a crescent brooch named Homeward. I had drawn it right after my father passed away. Vincent had once held me close and whispered that we would never sell this piece; we would save it for our future daughter. On stage, Brooke smiled brightly into the cameras. “Homeward was a gift from Vincent to me. He once told me that a woman can live without a marriage, but she can never live without her own identity.” Applause erupted across the auditorium. Vincent sat in the front row, looking up at her with admiration, a look I hadn’t seen directed at me in three years. Suddenly, the host walked down the aisle and handed me the microphone. “Mrs. Davenport, we hear you also come from a design background. How would you evaluate Ms. Brooke’s creation?” Every lens in the room pivoted to cover my face. Vincent leaned over, whispering a terse warning, “Answer the way we agreed.” I held the microphone. “It feels very familiar.” A few light chuckles echoed through the crowd. The host pressed on. “Familiar in terms of style?” Brooke spoke up first, her voice dripping with artificial grace. “Nina often looked through my draft folders at home. Our tastes naturally influenced each other.” She sounded modest, yet she skillfully flipped the accusation of plagiarism onto me. Vincent took the microphone from my hand. “My wife hasn’t worked professionally in design since our marriage. She occasionally doodles at home, and Brooke shares concepts with her so she doesn’t feel isolated.” I looked directly into his eyes. “Vincent, are you entirely sure about that?” He frowned. “Don’t cause a scene.” Right then, the main screen flipped to a side-by-side promotional shot. In the photo, Brooke wore my jade bangle, standing side by side with Vincent under the headline: Davenport Group’s Ultimate Creative Partners. Someone in the crowd yelled out jokingly, “Vincent, with Ms. Brooke understanding you so deeply, isn’t your wife jealous?” Vincent offered a polite smile. “Nina is very mature. She knows how to keep work and personal life separate.” Brooke walked over with two glasses of champagne and handed one toward me. “Nina, thank you for your understanding over these past three years. Vincent always says that without you keeping the home running smoothly, he couldn’t throw himself entirely into supporting my work.” As she leaned in, her voice dropped so low only I could hear: “The fifteen-hundred-dollar monthly rule? I suggested it to him.” “I told him that when a woman has no financial freedom, she can’t run away. Vincent thought it was brilliant.” I looked up at her. She smiled with immaculate sweet malice. “Oh, and that perpetual design release? I drafted it myself. When you signed it, you must have been so worried about your mother, right?” The glass in my hand trembled slightly. I didn’t throw the drink in her face. Vincent stepped over and took the glass from my hand. “Your stomach is weak. Don’t drink alcohol.” I looked at him calmly. “Did you restrict my money because you were afraid I’d leave?” “I restricted it because you lack financial discipline.” “And handing my work to her was also for my own good?” His patience finally snapped. He lowered his voice to a hiss. “Nina, as the CEO’s wife, you are already luckier than ninety-nine percent of women out there. Stop trying to have everything.” “And what if I insist?” “Then feel free to try walking away.” Vincent smoothed down my shoulder strap, his gesture appearing intimate while his words burned with ice. “No job, no client network, and your mother’s ongoing medical expenses racking up every day. How far do you honestly think you can walk?” I stared at his face, and suddenly, I smiled. It wasn’t out of spite, nor was I waiting for him to pull me back. I simply realized that these three years had officially come to an end. I pulled the signed divorce papers from my evening clutch and slipped them into the front pocket of his suit jacket. “Vincent, remember to approve it.” He assumed it was just another itemized receipt and didn’t even bother to look down. I turned and walked straight out of the convention hall. Simon was waiting outside by his car. I handed him my three years of expense ledgers. Tucked inside the last page was the formal revocation of my share proxy. “Deliver this directly to the board of directors.” He took the ledgers. “What about the brand launch inside?” Inside the auditorium, the stage screen began counting down for the grand reveal. Five. Four. Three. I tapped the confirmation button on my phone, sending a remote command linked directly to the venue’s broadcast server.

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