The day before I was set to marry the city’s most sought-after heir, Blake Davies, his first love, the girl he never truly got over, came back home.
He completely ditched me, rushing off to be with her, leaving me stranded at our engagement party.
Utterly heartbroken and disillusioned, I finally decided to walk away.
But then, with his eyes red-rimmed, he gripped my arm and asked, “Skylar, are you really going to abandon me?”
0
Blake Davies and I were engaged.
Everyone in our social circle said I was incredibly clever, that I’d managed to make the notorious playboy heir finally settle down.
I just smiled.
I hadn’t played any games; I’d simply laid my heart bare, offering it to Blake without holding anything back.
I was mid-face mask when I heard the news that Seraphina Lawrence was back in the country.
Blake was in the shower, and his phone was buzzing relentlessly on the coffee table.
I picked it up and saw it was an unknown number. I answered.
Before I could even speak, a soft, gentle female voice chimed from the other end.
“Blake, I’m back.”
My heart lurched. I quickly hit the end call button.
There was a moment of silence on the other end, then the phone rang again.
I immediately silenced it.
0
I knew Blake had a first love who’d moved abroad.
Her name was Seraphina Lawrence, and she was his high school girlfriend.
But they’d broken up right after graduation, and she’d promptly left the country.
Blake, the Davies family heir, had been a wreck for a while after that, becoming even more of a playboy, living life like it was one big game, a pure reckless rich kid.
All of this was what I’d heard from others.
Before I knew Blake personally, my impression of him was just that he was the talk of the campus among my university classmates.
Blake’s striking looks, privileged background, and that dangerous, laid-back vibe made him a hot topic, attracting countless admirers.
He went through girlfriends one after another.
This made my initial impression of him less than stellar.
Then one day, my roommate and I went to a bar for her birthday and ended up getting harassed by a few guys.
They blocked our way, insisting we have a few drinks before we could leave.
Caught in a standoff, I was about to pull out my phone to call the cops when someone walked up beside us.
Blake stood in front of us, tall and imposing.
He looked down at the guys, a single cold word falling from his lips.
“Beat it.”
One of the guys, seeing how arrogant he was, threw a punch at Blake’s face, but Blake caught his wrist with a swift move.
Blake’s other hand clenched into a fist and he slammed it hard into the guy.
The man yelped, stumbling backward and knocking over a bottle from the table.
The sound of shattering glass drew many eyes from around the bar.
A server noticed the commotion and quickly came over with security.
He paused when he saw Blake.
The guys were still yelling, threatening to make Blake pay.
Blake looked at the server and said, “These guys are causing trouble. Get them out of here.”
The security guards nodded and dragged them outside.
Blake exchanged a few more words with the server, then glanced at us before leaving.
The server told us our entire tab for the night was on the house.
Later, I found out Blake was a co-owner of that bar.
From that day on, I seemed to see Blake everywhere at school.
0
When Blake came out of the shower, I handed him his phone and told him what had just happened.
He took it, stared at the number for a few seconds, then tossed it aside as if it were nothing.
I cautiously asked, “Aren’t you going to call her back?”
Blake looked at me, giving a nonchalant smile. “It’s nothing important.”
My heart, which had been in my throat, finally relaxed. I was so excited for our engagement party the next day.
The next morning, I woke up early and started getting my hair and makeup done.
I had been waiting for this day for a long time.
By the time everything was ready, it was already noon.
When I arrived at the venue, it was already packed.
Relatives, friends, and everyone from our social circle were there.
In the center of the hall, stood Blake, sharp in his suit.
I walked toward him, step by step, toward the man I had loved for six years.
Blake’s eyes were full of warmth, gazing back at me.
I can’t remember exactly when I started pursuing Blake.
I only remember the night we officially got together, the bar table covered in empty glasses.
Blake was sitting on the sofa, surrounded by his friends.
His eyes were deep, and he pointed at the drinks on the table, saying, “Drink all these, and I’ll be with you.”
My head was hot from the alcohol, and I grabbed a glass, pouring it down my throat.
By the third glass, Blake grabbed my wrist and took the glass away.
Then, amidst the cheers and catcalls of his friends, he pulled me up and led me out of the private room.
He pinned me against the wall in the hallway, his intense gaze fixed on me.
“You like me that much, huh?”
The alcohol was hitting me hard. My eyes were blurry, and I seemed to be processing his words slowly.
After a long moment, I nodded.
He cupped the back of my head, making me tilt my head back to look at him.
I mumbled, “I like… Blake.”
As soon as the words left my lips, they were covered by something warm.
When I was about to run out of breath, he let me go.
I gasped, watching his Adam’s apple bob.
That night, it felt natural for us to become a couple.
That was one year and three months into my pursuit of Blake.
0
Halfway through the engagement party, Blake’s phone rang.
Standing beside him, I watched him pull out his phone and frown.
He immediately hung up.
But then, the call came in again.
Once, twice, three times.
On the fourth call, Blake finally answered.
As soon as he picked up, a girl’s tearful voice rang out.
“Blake, I was in a car accident.”
In an instant, all the color drained from Blake’s face.
Ignoring the astonished gazes of everyone present, he bolted out of the hall in a desperate rush.
I stood there, utterly helpless, the pain in my chest feeling like a black hole, threatening to swallow me whole.
I clutched my stomach, feeling a wave of nausea.
I rushed to the restroom and dry heaved.
I turned on the faucet, not caring if my makeup would run, and splashed water on my face.
Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I looked at myself in the mirror, my hair disheveled, on the verge of breaking down.
After a long while in the restroom, I finally emerged.
Most of the guests had already left the engagement party; only my parents and my best friend, Ashley Shaw, were waiting for me.
Seeing my distraught appearance, they rushed over, surrounding me, their faces etched with worry.
“Skylar, what happened?”
My throat tightened, and I struggled to speak.
“I don’t want to get married anymore.”
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Six years of constant companionship and tender care made me believe I’d found my soulmate.
Until my twenty-second birthday.
That’s when he mercilessly exposed me, naked and vulnerable, to his family. The icy, emotionless look in his eyes shattered me.
Only then did I realize that everything, *every single thing*, had been a meticulously planned act of revenge.
Damien hated everyone connected to the Davies family.
Since a broken mirror can never be whole again,
it was time for us to never meet again.
Eight PM. Silverwood City General Hospital.
It had been three years since I last stepped foot in this city I’d called home for over two decades. Grandpa Arthur was seriously ill. The moment I got Mom’s call, I booked the first flight back.
Looking at Grandpa Arthur in his hospital bed, his face pale and frail, he seemed to have aged years overnight.
“Audrey, you’ve suffered so much all these years.”
I squeezed his weathered hands, trying to reassure him. “Grandpa, I haven’t suffered. You just need to get well, fast.”
Grandpa Arthur had a long-standing heart condition, kept stable by medication. This time, a crisis at the company had overwhelmed him, causing his heart condition to flare up and leading to his collapse.
Outside his room, on the hospital ground floor, I saw a familiar figure I hadn’t seen in three years.
Damien leaned against his car, a cigarette dangling from one hand, a suit jacket slung over the other arm. He looked effortlessly elegant, so arrogantly refined.
“Audrey, have you been well these past few years?”
His voice was low and hoarse, betraying no emotion.
“Thanks to my dear Uncle, I’ve been living a life worse than death.”
I met his gaze head-on, deliberately emphasizing the word “Uncle.”
He extinguished his cigarette, acting as if he didn’t see the fury blazing in my eyes. He opened the passenger door, turning his head slightly. “Get in. I’ll take you back.”
Hearing his calm, almost indifferent tone, a wave of repressed anger choked me.
“My dearest Uncle, where exactly are you taking me back to? The old Davies family estate or your Waterside villa?”
Yes, I had nowhere else to go.
My dad had an affair, my mom remarried, and I’d lived with Grandpa Arthur since birth. Even my last name was Davies.
Three years ago, Damien’s meticulously planned revenge made it impossible for me to stay at the Davies family estate. His mother, Grandpa Arthur’s second wife, couldn’t tolerate me there for a second.
Damien’s shirt sleeves were half-rolled up, his hands resting loosely on the steering wheel. He ignored my self-deprecation, speeding through the night.
The car stopped in front of his Waterside villa, but I made no move to get out.
“Is my Uncle planning another grand performance?”
As if sensing my resistance, he softened his tone. “You’ll stay here. I’ll go back to the estate.”
He always had that composed, calm expression, as if the shameful scheme from three years ago had never happened.
Three years ago, on the night of my twenty-second birthday.
It was late when I finished celebrating with friends.
I returned to the Waterside villa, and before I could even reach for the light switch, the room slowly filled with soft, twinkling lights. Candles flickered to life, one by one, and rose petals were scattered everywhere.
Damien stood there in the warm, yellow glow, holding a bouquet of flowers, gazing at me with such deep affection.
“Happy Birthday, Audrey.”
His eyes were filled with gentle adoration, completely captivating me.
Yes, I loved Damien, from sixteen to twenty-two. Six years of almost crazy infatuation, and he had never once reciprocated my feelings.
He’d always just pat my head, telling me I was too young, like he was comforting a child.
But that night, he stood before me like a prince, and I could no longer suppress the intense love bubbling within me.
“What do you want for your gift, my Audrey?”
Fueled by the last whispers of alcohol, I wrapped my arms around his neck, closed my eyes, and pressed my lips against his warm ones.
“Damien, I want you.”
Whether it was the numbing effect of the alcohol or the incredibly暧昧 atmosphere in the room, he didn’t push me away as he usually did. Instead, he spun me around and pinned me against the wall, deepening the kiss.
Some things, once they begin, can’t be stopped.
The flickering candlelight, the flowers scattered on the floor, and clothes strewn everywhere…
I whispered, over and over, into his ear, “Damien, I love you.”
But he, in a perverse twist, made me call him “Uncle.”
Lost in the euphoria of my long-standing unrequited love finally being returned,
I didn’t notice the fleeting, cold glint in Damien’s eyes.
The next morning, I was woken by an urgent pounding on the door.
I lay naked on Damien’s bedroom bed, covered by a thin sheet, barely concealing the unmistakable marks on my skin.
Damien, fully dressed and at ease, sat on the low couch by the bed. Seeing me wake, he smirked. “Audrey, you’re about to witness quite the show.”
He swept away any hint of tenderness from his gaze. When he looked at me, his eyes were sharp, merciless, and utterly cold.
No sooner had he spoken than the door was kicked open from the outside. Grandpa Arthur and Celeste, Damien’s mother, rushed in.
Before my brain could even process what was happening, a hand swung up and slapped me hard across the face.
My head reeled. All I could hear was Celeste’s vile curses, “Audrey Davies, have you no shame? You’ll crawl into anyone’s bed!”
Grandpa Arthur stopped her from saying more, closed the door, and turned to Damien, who remained seated and unmoving.
“Damien, you called us here just to see this? Is this your objective?”
Damien calmly adjusted his sleeve, stood up, and sneered, utterly unconcerned. “Nothing to explain. As you can see, your granddaughter loves me. Tell me, how should I address you from now on?”
I looked up at him in disbelief, as if the tenderness of last night had been nothing but a cruel illusion.
Grandpa Arthur, fuming, sat down on the bed, steadying himself. After a long moment, he said, full of disappointment, “You’re her uncle, Damien. Audrey is just a child. How could you be so heartless?”
“Why wouldn’t I be heartless? If it weren’t for you, my dad wouldn’t have died in that car accident. I hate everyone in your Davies family.”
His brows subtly twitched, and his deep, dark eyes held only indifference and distance.
“This is the retribution you deserve.”
His cold, mocking tone left me frozen, like a lightning strike, shattering my heart into a million pieces.
In that moment, I realized I had never truly known the man before me.
That day, Damien didn’t spare me another glance. He finished speaking and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
He left only one sentence: “Clean up this mess yourselves. I’m done.”
Watching his figure disappear beyond the door, a flood of memories rushed into my mind. All those moments where Damien had shown me such extreme indulgence, almost like affection.
And now, I finally had an answer.
I also learned that day that Damien’s father had died in a car crash while drunk, after discovering his wife’s affair. Celeste, Damien’s mother, married into the Davies family when Damien was twenty-six. Grandpa Arthur had given her a grand wedding. Everyone thought it was a love match after Damien’s father died.
But it turned out there was such a deep-seated hatred, fueled by the death of a loved one.
So, all these years, Damien had been systematically seeking revenge on everyone in the Davies family.
After a restless night, I woke up early the next day. This return trip meant a tough battle ahead, and I had no time to dwell on the past.
Over the past few years, Damien had leveraged the power of Davies Group to establish his own company. Bit by bit, he snatched away resources that rightfully belonged to Davies Group. Now, the Davies Group was little more than an empty shell, almost completely dismantled by him.
Grandpa Arthur couldn’t bear to see his life’s work vanish. He also couldn’t believe Damien could be so utterly ruthless. That’s why he hoped I could return to Davies Group and try to salvage what was left.
Grandpa Arthur truly overestimated me. I had already experienced Damien’s methods. Against him, I stood no chance.
Composing myself, I walked into the CEO’s office at Davies Group.
Damien stood with his back to the door, hands in his pockets, gazing out the bright, expansive floor-to-ceiling windows. From the 32nd floor, the city’s most bustling panorama stretched before him. He was like an ancient emperor, surveying the empire he had conquered.
Hearing the door open, he turned, unsurprised by my presence.
“Here to start your new job? You can begin as my assistant.”
He knew my intentions, yet he deliberately made things difficult.
“Do I have other options?”
“I want to go to the tech department.”
He chuckled softly. “Audrey, some things can’t be rushed. Why don’t we take our time? We have all the time in the world.”
But I didn’t have much time left. Davies Group wouldn’t last much longer.
“Then I want to attend all company executive meetings.”
“Also, I need to see the company’s financial reports from the past few years.”
Damien casually shuffled some documents on his desk, saying indifferently, “Naturally.”
Perhaps he truly didn’t need to care much about me. By now, no one could pose a threat to him.
Despite being given the title of assistant, I wasn’t assigned any real work. I wasn’t sure what his intention was, but my desk was placed right next to Damien’s. This was the spot I used to frequent, the place where I could look up and see Damien’s perfect profile.
Memories drifted like smoke.
After three years, we were somehow coexisting peacefully in the same space.
Damien was busy, glued to his computer all day, working. Aside from occasionally taking calls and ordering me to bring him tea or water, he was silent. He wore a crisp suit, with short bangs falling over his forehead, and his usual faint smile was gone. His composed, serious demeanor added a chilling edge to his handsome face. He was no longer the Damien I remembered.
When I first met Damien, he was aloof and arrogant, with an inherent coldness that kept people at a distance. Uncle Ryan, my mother’s older brother, had no interest in business and worked as a surgeon in a military hospital, rarely coming home. So, Grandpa Arthur wanted Damien to work at Davies Group.
Damien showed no resistance then. He unhesitatingly turned down high-paying offers from international corporations and readily joined Davies Group. From a junior employee to a branch manager, and then to the CEO of Davies Group, it only took him two years.
At twenty-eight, Damien, with his innate decisiveness, took over from Grandpa Arthur, officially becoming the successor to Davies Group.
It was from that day on that he gradually replaced the veterans who had worked with Grandpa Arthur for years, installing his own people. Now, Davies Group was entirely under Damien’s control. Grandpa Arthur had always known about this but never pursued it. “They’re family, let him do as he pleases,” was the comfort Grandpa Arthur offered himself.
My story with Damien began the day he joined Davies Group.
The Davies family estate was in the suburbs. To avoid the hassle of daily commutes, I moved into the Waterside villa near my school with Damien.
The Damien who was cold and distant in public was incredibly doting towards me, even though we had no blood relation. Outside of work, he’d take me out to dinner and movies, accompany me to amusement parks to ride the Ferris wheel, and even childishly play in the snow with me on cold winter days. He patiently indulged all my whims and unreasonable demands. He often brought me to his friends’ gatherings, proudly introducing me as his young niece.
Gradually, everyone in the circle knew that Damien had a beloved young niece he doted on.
In my youth, when my heart was first awakening to love, I naturally couldn’t resist his thoughtful, caring favoritism. Moreover, he was a man of undeniable charm, inherently attractive. My love for Damien was intense, almost to the point of madness, and I didn’t know where it stemmed from.
Perhaps it was the warm milk he handed me before bed, or his embrace as he shielded me from the rain. Or maybe it was his tender gaze at the top of the Ferris wheel on Valentine’s night.
…
I desperately sought out every trace of his love for me, yet after that one night, he brutally dragged me into hell.
After that day, Grandpa Arthur sent me abroad for three whole years. Before I left, Grandpa Arthur said to me, his voice heavy with heartache, “Audrey, go clear your head. I’ll handle things here.”
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Alice Ross, the new teacher at our school, claims she can understand what crows say and predict the future.
During final exams, she told our colleagues: “In half an hour, Dylan Fraser will be caught cheating by Luna and dragged out to stand as punishment. The humiliation will drive Dylan to jump off the building and commit suicide.” Luna Martin—that’s my name.
Soon enough, I discovered the small note Dylan had hidden in his pencil case. Under my harsh criticism, Dylan indeed jumped from the top floor in shame.
His parents, Harvey Fraser and Grace Fraser, believed I had driven him to his death.
They came to the school in fury, but Alice said: “The crows told me that parents consumed by grief will surely make Luna pay with her life.”
Once again, her prediction came true. Harvey and Grace pushed me down the stairs, leaving me severely injured.
My husband Carter Hunter was frantic and rushed me to the hospital. But Alice blocked the car door, saying: “You need to think this through. Your wife has been having an affair and has contracted AIDS.”
Carter believed her words, and sure enough, abnormalities were found in my blood test. In the end, Carter divorced me, and I died from excessive blood loss.
Alice’s step-by-step successful predictions made her an instant internet sensation. Many people paid big money just to get her prophecies.
When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Alice claimed she could understand crow language.
“Luna, I suggest you don’t go in to proctor the exam. Otherwise, you won’t be able to handle the consequences.” Alice rudely blocked me from entering the examination room.
“Alice, she’s the homeroom teacher. This is a major Christmas-level exam. You can’t stop her from proctoring,” said Albert Brown, another proctor.
Alice frowned and stamped her foot: “This concerns a student’s life. I must stop her.
“You all have to believe what I’m saying. I can understand what that crow in the school’s big tree is saying. It makes prophecies.
“Just now, it told me that half an hour after the exam starts, Luna will discover Dylan cheating, drag him out of the exam room, and criticize him publicly. In the end, Dylan will jump off the building and commit suicide.”
Hearing the familiar prophecy, I froze as I was about to enter the classroom. So I had been reborn.
I said: “Alice, I suspect you’ve been reading too many fairy tales.”
Faced with my skepticism, Alice sighed: “Haven’t you all noticed there are especially many crows today? They flew here because they know someone will die today.”
Albert was dismissive of her words and tugged at my sleeve: “Don’t pay attention to her. The exam is about to start.”
Sure enough, half an hour later, I noticed Dylan acting suspiciously. I opened his pencil case and found the small note covered with answers.
In my previous life, I had taken Dylan out of the classroom for criticism and education, made him stand as punishment for an hour, and confiscated his exam paper.
This time, I simply quietly took away the note. I brought him outside the classroom and spoke to him gently for a moment, then let him go back in to continue the exam.
All the students were focused on their test and didn’t notice what had happened.
I thought that by preserving Dylan’s dignity this time, he wouldn’t commit suicide again.
Just to be safe, I specifically ran to guard the teaching building where he had jumped in my previous life. But I didn’t see him there.
Just when I thought I could save Dylan in this life, commotion erupted from the direction of the laboratory building.
A teacher ran over in panic: “You need to go look quickly. A student jumped off the building, and it seems to be one of your students.”
My eyes widened as I rushed toward the laboratory building. Dylan lay on the ground covered in blood, still coughing up blood from his mouth.
Alice arrived at that moment too. Seeing the scene, she shoved me hard: “What did I tell you? I told you not to proctor the exam, not to hurt his self-esteem, but you just wouldn’t listen. Now what do you have to say?
“As a teacher, you need not only solid professional knowledge but also noble character and conduct. You criticized him publicly. How could his young heart possibly handle that?”
I wasn’t listening to what she was saying, only asking myself over and over: “Why did the tragedy still happen even though I was prepared? Where exactly did things go wrong?”
At that moment, the doctors arrived. They performed emergency measures on Dylan.
After a long ten minutes, they shook their heads and pronounced Dylan dead.
I leaned against the wall in silence, feeling utterly helpless.
Even though I had changed my approach, why couldn’t I change the inevitable outcome?
Albert, who was proctoring the exam with me, rushed over as well. Seeing Dylan’s lifeless body, he was in complete disbelief.
He patted my shoulder and said, “Try to look on the bright side.”
With tears in my eyes, I said, “I really didn’t criticize him. I even gave him a second chance to take the exam. But why did he still kill himself?”
Albert sighed and said, “Maybe everyone has their own destiny.”
After saying this, he looked at Alice with amazement in his eyes. He was beginning to believe that she could understand the crows and had prophetic abilities.
Seeing my dejected state, Alice said angrily, “When I told you to believe me, you chose to ignore my words. Now he’s dead. What good does your guilt do? You need to improve your teaching methods going forward.
“After his funeral is handled, his parents will definitely come to the school. You’d better think about what you’re going to say then.”
I slid down the wall to sit on the floor, holding my head, unable to understand any of it.
Yesterday, only Dylan and I knew about his cheating incident – it didn’t disturb anyone else in the exam room.
When we talked outside the classroom, I was very gentle. Not only did I forgive his cheating, but I also let him return to the exam.
I didn’t hurt his self-esteem at all, so there’s no way he would jump off a building because of this.
That day, I sat alone in my office in a daze when I heard a commotion outside.
Dylan’s mother Grace was grabbing Albert and crying loudly, “How old was my child? How could he suddenly die? What did your school do to drive my child to choose suicide? He’s just gone like that. How am I supposed to live?
“Next month would have been his birthday. We had planned to go to the amusement park together. If it weren’t for you people, how could he bear to leave me and kill himself?
“I entrusted my child to this school in good faith. Is this how responsible you are? How can you face the trust we parents placed in you?
“You must give me an explanation today. What exactly drove my child to suicide?”
I quickly ran outside and found that many people had already gathered outside the office.
Seeing Grace crying so miserably, I felt extremely guilty, but there was nothing I could do.
Albert looked at me with difficulty, “She’s Dylan’s homeroom teacher. She’ll explain the whole situation to you. I’m very sorry. We’re all deeply saddened by what happened.”
Grace let go of Albert and rushed toward me, pushing me to the ground.
She asked viciously, “Tell me! What exactly did you do to my son that made him not want to live anymore?”
Before I could get up to answer, Alice jumped in first and said, “Your child jumped because Luna publicly criticized him, and he was heartbroken.”
“What?” Dylan’s father Harvey kicked me as I lay on the ground after hearing the whole story.
I immediately curled up in pain.
Grace shouted with hatred, “You owe my son his life! As a teacher, how could you hurt a child’s self-esteem like that? Do you have any professional ethics at all?”
She grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the wall.
I tried to fight back, but Harvey joined in too. The two of them were too strong—I couldn’t resist at all.
Grace kept hitting me while cursing, “He’s our only son. You murderer killed him, so we want your life! If you have any conscience left, go to hell and apologize to him.”
At that moment, I heard Alice frantically grabbing Albert, saying, “What should we do? I just heard the crow again. It said if they keep beating her like this, they’ll definitely kill Luna.”
In my previous life, the office was located close to the stairwell. During the struggle, that’s where they pushed me down.
In this life, I deliberately stayed far from the stairwell. After all, when people get angry, they lose their rationality and might do anything.
Because he believed Alice’s prophecy, Albert hurried to pull Harvey and Grace apart, afraid that another tragedy would happen at the school.
Albert said while pulling them, “Please calm down. None of us wanted Dylan to get hurt, but what’s done is done. Even if you beat her to death, Dylan won’t come back to life.”
Harvey slapped him and roared, “You’re colleagues, of course you’d protect her. I’m warning you—as vice principal, you’re enabling your teachers to abuse children. If you don’t make her resign and apologize to my son, I’ll not only report you to the Department of Education, but I’ll also have your entire school shut down for investigation.”
Seeing Albert getting dragged into this unfairly, Alice quickly explained, “Dylan committed suicide. It has nothing to do with any of our school’s teachers. You can’t be this unreasonable.”
Seeing things escalating, Albert rushed out to call security.
Alice’s words completely enraged Harvey and Grace.
Harvey bellowed, “How could it have nothing to do with you? If you hadn’t said hurtful things to Dylan, would he have killed himself? What do you mean Dylan won’t come back to life? To you, he’s just one of many students. But to us, he was our entire world.”
Grace also cried out, “Don’t think you can easily escape responsibility. Especially you!”
She roared at me again, “You owe Dylan a life, so you have to pay with yours.”
With that, Grace pulled out a fruit knife from her bag and stabbed it toward my stomach without hesitation.
Just as I tried to dodge, Harvey pinned me down. The fruit knife instantly pierced through my body. The excruciating pain made it impossible for me to stand up.
I clutched my stomach, sitting on the ground, and explained through the agony, “I really didn’t criticize him. I just told him not to cheat again next time.”
Grace raised the knife like a madwoman, wanting to stab me again, “Who would believe a murderer like you?”
At that moment, the school security finally arrived. One held down Harvey while two others wrestled the knife away from Grace.
Even while being pinned down by security, Grace continued cursing at me. I’ll never forget the look of pure hatred in her eyes.
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“Ms. Hazel Nelson, are you certain you want to serve as the test subject for this research project? I must warn you upfront that participating in this project has only one outcome—you will travel to any random time and space, disappearing from the modern world. The company executives still hope you’ll reconsider…”
Before the staff member could finish, I cut him off: “No need to think about it. Disappearing is exactly what I want.”
Only this way would my husband Timothy Roberts and son Laurence Roberts be unable to find me.
The voice on the other end was clearly surprised, but maintained professional composure: “There’s one more thing I need to explain. After you disappear, everyone in this world except those who love you and those who hate you will forget you completely. Can you still accept this?”
I thought to myself: “Who in this world still loves me? Those who hate me… maybe there are some.”
I gave a self-mocking smile: “I can accept that.”
The staff member said: “Very well, Ms. Nelson. The project will officially launch in ten days. We look forward to your arrival.”
After hanging up, the tech company sent me an electronic liability waiver. This meant that even if I entered the time machine and died accidentally during the journey, the company wouldn’t bear any responsibility, and my family would have no right to pursue legal action—everything was voluntary on both sides. After a moment’s hesitation, I signed my name decisively. Once the project launched, Timothy, Laurence, and I would never meet again in life or death—exactly what I wanted.
Lost in thought, I returned to the bedroom from the balcony, only to be swept up by Timothy and placed on the bed. His eyes burned with desire, and what would happen next was obvious. Nausea rose in my stomach.
“I’m tired. I want to sleep early.”
In ten years of marriage, I had never refused him once, but this time, ignoring his bewildered expression, I turned my back to him and lay down.
He said: “Are you really angry? I admit I shouldn’t have skipped the movie with you over a little work issue. To make it up to you, I’ll have that brand you love most deliver their latest handbag collection to you tomorrow. Forgive me, okay?”
His tone was gentle and pleading. I gave a perfunctory “mm-hmm.”
“I knew you were easy to please.” His eyes were full of tenderness as he wrapped his arm around my waist and buried his head in the crook of my neck to sleep.
He would never know that a woman’s willingness to be appeased is built on her love for the man. But now, he had long passed the point where he could “appease” me, far beyond the line where I could forgive him.
Three nights ago, I groggily got up in the middle of the night to find my son Laurence—whom I had carried for ten months—holding a woman’s photograph, gazing at it with longing. The woman in the photo wasn’t me. Timothy looked on with satisfaction, praising: “You’ve really grown up, finally realizing how wonderful Lauren is.”
Laurence said: “Dad, every time you tell me stories about you and Lauren, I feel so happy. Not like that woman who only nags me about studying—she’s so annoying!”
The blood in my veins turned ice cold, and my heart clenched in pain. If I hadn’t heard it with my own ears, I never would have believed that my well-behaved, sweet Laurence despised me so completely in private. Watching Timothy open a thick German book and Laurence carefully slip the photograph inside, I finally understood why this book was always placed on the highest shelf, and why Timothy and Laurence claimed to hate German. They had repeated it several times because they knew that anything they disliked, I would never touch.
Using my love for them to hurt me—is this how my closest family punishes me? Tears streamed down my cheeks like broken pearls, yet I never found the courage to voice my questions. Only after Timothy and Laurence had fallen asleep did I gather the strength to examine that photograph carefully. The familiar spaghetti strap made my eyes widen instantly. Timothy’s friend’s words from our wedding day echoed endlessly in my ears: “More influential than a first love is a dead first love.”
It turned out that meaningful remark was meant for me, and today it was proven true. Because the woman in the photograph was Timothy’s deceased first love—Lauren Lynch. A bitter smile crossed my lips as everything became clear. Lauren was the first love Timothy could never forget. This name permeated every corner of my life, omnipresent. My son was named Laurence, Timothy’s computer password was “Lauren,” and even our wedding rings were engraved with the name Lauren. I had always thought this reflected Timothy’s deep love for our son, his cherishing of our love’s fruit. I had once felt sweet about it. Turns out everything he did was to commemorate his first love. My so-called sweetness was nothing but a complete joke.
Before meeting Timothy, I had already heard about his story with his first love. Given my personality, I wouldn’t pursue a man whose heart belonged to someone else. Not until Lauren died in a car accident. I was promoted to department manager after landing a major deal, and under my boss’s guidance, I participated in numerous business collaborations, including with Roberts Group. Through our interactions, Timothy and I became acquainted. He officially began pursuing me after Christmas.
Besides jewelry and accessories that women love, he also used business contracts to win my favor. Any collaboration that went through me, he would sign without even looking. To make him back down, I imposed many harsh conditions, all of which he agreed to. Projects that should have been highly profitable became losses, and he nearly got kicked out by his parents. I pretended not to know about his difficult situation. He remained gentle and soft-spoken as always, never speaking harshly to me, never showing impatience, indulging my reckless behavior in business dealings, which led to my rapid promotion from manager to company vice president in just a few months, my status rising dramatically.
Discovering my reservations about him, he even declared in a public interview that he would marry no one but me. Countless netizens cheered for our love story, and I had no choice but to give a definitive answer—I rejected Timothy. He couldn’t believe I was so resolute and insisted on knowing why. I said, “Your previous relationship was too passionate and dramatic. I don’t want my future husband to forever hold a place in his heart for his first love.”
Timothy said, “I can’t deny the facts of the past, but I can guarantee, Hazel, that you will be the only true love of my life.”
I asked, “Can you really forget her?”
He said, “Yes! For you, I can do anything.”
He made such sincere and passionate vows countless times. What truly moved me was an accident.
That day, we attended a jewelry gala together.
To secure a partnership with the Riffins couple, I brought the only memento my parents had left me—a hairpin adorned with a rare ruby.
Due to the makeup artist’s improper placement, the hairpin fell from mid-air just as Timothy and I got out of the car and walked toward the venue. By the time I noticed and turned back to look for it, it was too late.
A luxury car following closely behind was about to crush the hairpin. In that moment, I could almost hear the sound of the gemstone shattering.
At the critical moment, Timothy threw himself forward without hesitation and saved the hairpin.
But he didn’t escape unscathed. Three of his ribs were fractured, and his arm was bleeding profusely, the wound so deep you could see bone.
As he was being loaded into the ambulance, he specifically asked his personal assistant Alex Brewer to stay behind and help me complete the partnership deal. He was even worried that his parents would develop deeper prejudices against me because of this, so he went through the surgery and stitching all alone.
I actually believed he could forget his first love.
Under the dim glow of the night light, I could still clearly see that scar running across his arm.
Ten years had passed, yet that wound hadn’t faded in the slightest.
And my heart had long since died.
After tonight, there would be nine more days. Once I left, they could continue living with Lauren’s photograph.
I believed this would be a result everyone could accept.
In the morning, Timothy got up and tucked the covers around me, habitually giving me a gentle kiss on the forehead.
Laurence ran over and mimicked Timothy’s actions, then was promptly urged by him to go to school.
“Laurence, you’re going to be late again!” Timothy stood at the doorway, looking at us with helpless yet doting eyes.
Such ordinary, warm daily routines played out every day.
I used to think this was the happiest life possible. But now, I only found it ironic.
I thought that after making my decision, I could face them with complete composure, but I ultimately overestimated my control over my emotions.
Especially when the name Laurence came from Timothy’s mouth again and again, I felt as if I were being pierced by countless arrows, the pain making it impossible to breathe.
In the bathroom, I threw away the toothpaste Timothy squeezed out for me every day into the trash can. Just as I was about to turn and leave, I was drawn by some commotion in the living room and walked out.
The room was empty except for a pile of luxury handbags scattered across the living room.
Unfortunately, I had no desire whatsoever to open this roomful of “apology gifts” he had presumptively sent over.
As I turned to leave, I saw a note on the table.
[I wasn’t able to go to the movies with you before. I’ll clear my afternoon schedule to spend time with you. Hazel, wait for me to finish up, and I’ll come pick you up at the company.]
For these final days, let’s leave each other with some dignity. I had no intention of refusing, but since I was about to leave anyway, why bother continuing this charade with them?
I called Timothy. “You don’t need to pick me up at the company. I finished my resignation paperwork yesterday. Just come home to get me.”
He was momentarily stunned, then his voice clearly brightened with joy. “After all this time, you’ve finally decided to quit. You don’t know how happy I am every day when I come home from work and see you. From now on, I can keep you by my side every day.”
I let out a soft laugh, tinged with sarcasm.
Then cherish your so-called happiness.
Because starting today, I’ll be waiting for you to come home every night. After all, you only have a few days left in your life to experience this “happiness.”
That afternoon, he came back to pick me up. Our first stop was the movie theater, to make up for the film we hadn’t been able to see together. I had expected this, but I hadn’t anticipated how interesting the movie’s content would be.
The male protagonist in the film was emotionally unfaithful, unable to forget his former lover, wavering between two women. I stared masochistically at the screen, not missing a single frame.
As the plot progressed, Timothy’s expression grew increasingly cold. “How did Alex choose this movie? He can’t even handle such a simple task!”
“Really? I think it’s quite good.” I smiled faintly and turned to ask him, “If you were the male lead, who would you choose in the end?”
Timothy froze for a moment.
I continued, “Would you choose the passionate, enchanting former lover, beautiful as a rose, or the wife who has been by your side for years?”
He smiled then, his eyes full of affection. “I’m not the male lead, so I can’t make his choice for him. But Hazel, you know that without you, I couldn’t survive. No matter who you’re compared to, you’re my only answer.”
He indeed wasn’t the male lead. Compared to the protagonist in the film who deceived his wife while entangling himself with his first love, Timothy, this liar, was far more sophisticated in his methods.
I said, “Really? But from what I know about you, you seem to prefer that alluring, blooming rose.”
I wore a faint smile, as if it were just a casual remark, yet it made Timothy squirm uncomfortably.
After the movie ended, he hurriedly pulled me away, trying to cheer me up with thrilling activities at an amusement park. We rode the roller coaster and the drop tower, not missing a single ride.
I used to genuinely enjoy these things.
But honestly, he was terribly afraid of heights. The day he proposed to me years ago was at an amusement park.
I had jokingly said, “Want me to say yes to your proposal? Ride the roller coaster with me first.”
It was just a casual joke, but he took it seriously. After that four-minute roller coaster ride, he threw up for a full half hour. That was the only time he ever rode it with me.
Memories came flooding back, making my eyes well up with tears, nearly making me cry again.
I said, “Are you really willing to…”
“Ride it with me one more time?” Before I could finish the second half of my sentence, his phone rang and interrupted me.
I’d never been on a roller coaster, but I found myself in a taxi instead.
Timothy took a phone call and hurried off, leaving me standing there alone. This was the first time something like this had ever happened.
I told the driver to follow his car at a distance. The route became increasingly familiar, and eventually the car stopped at the entrance to our residential community. A security guard was blocking a mother and daughter from entering.
The guard said, “This is an upscale community. I know all the homeowners’ parents. You two are trying to impersonate family members, but you’ve come to the wrong place!”
The mother and daughter refused to back down. Just as the guard was at his wit’s end, Timothy walked over, and the guard finally breathed a sigh of relief, greeting him with a smile.
But Timothy walked straight toward the mother and daughter, his eyes full of concern: “Camila, Grace.”
They turned around, and I recognized them immediately—Camila Lynch and Grace Lynch, the mother and sister of Timothy’s beloved first love, Lauren.
It wasn’t for any other reason than that the young girl bore a face seventy percent similar to Lauren’s.
Before I could think further, she had already sweetly linked her arm through Timothy’s: “Timothy, if you hadn’t come, that security guard would have bullied us terribly!”
“It’s okay, don’t be afraid. I’m here now, aren’t I?” His tone was gentle, full of indulgence.
Facing that face, he couldn’t bring himself to say a single harsh word: “How did you two get here?”
Camila let out a heavy sigh: “It’s all Lauren’s father’s fault. He took all the money you gave us and gambled it away again—a whole million dollars! He lost every penny! What are we going to do next month?”
Grace shivered at just the right moment, making Timothy’s heart ache.
He said, “Don’t worry about the money. Let’s go inside and talk. Grace, you’re shivering from the cold.”
Grace said, “I like you the most! You care about me the most!”
She smiled like a blooming flower, momentarily captivating Timothy. At that moment, his mind was probably filled entirely with thoughts of his first love.
I watched helplessly as Timothy led them through our front door. I figured I’d be getting a text from him soon.
Sure enough, my phone buzzed shortly after.
[Hazel, I have some urgent business to handle, so I can’t spend time with you right now. But I’ve already sent Alex over—he’ll show you a good time.]
Your urgent business is entertaining Lauren’s family while having Alex distract me so I can’t come home?
I forced down the pain in my heart. The moment my phone screen went black, it reflected my pale face.
I could no longer deceive myself.
From the moment he saw them, from the moment he gazed at that face seventy percent similar to Lauren’s and fell into reminiscence, from the moment I realized he’d been secretly supporting Lauren’s family all these years—it had all been a slow, silent torture.
After our marriage, Timothy voluntarily handed over management of our household finances to me. I knew every expense. But every month, a million dollars would mysteriously disappear.
When I asked about it, he would gently wrap his arms around my waist from behind, looking aggrieved: “Those friends of mine have been picking on me. They’re jealous of my happy family, so they always make me pick up the tab.”
The places this group frequented were expensive, so spending a million dollars a month seemed reasonable enough.
But why was Timothy always the one paying? Did they think my husband was a pushover? I was indignant at the time and gave them a piece of my mind that very night, standing up for Timothy.
But that million-dollar monthly expense continued.
I began to suspect, but one sentence from him put my guard down again: “It’s fine, Hazel. Every million dollars we spend each month, I’ll earn back in business.”
I thought men’s affairs should be left for them to handle.
So I marked that million dollars as a fixed monthly expense, and it continued for ten whole years.
How ridiculous—our marital assets had been supporting his dead first love’s family all along.
Sharp pain shot through my palm. I unclenched my tightly gripped fist to find my palm covered in bloody marks.
But no matter how much it hurt, it couldn’t compare to even one ten-thousandth of the tearing pain in my heart.
Timothy called me: “Hazel, where are you? Alex is already at the amusement park but couldn’t find you.”
I said while walking upstairs, “It was too cold outside, so I came home first.”
“You went home?” His voice carried tension and panic.
“Yeah, I’m already at the front door,” I said.
As I fumbled for my keys to unlock the door, I heard Laurence’s anxious voice from inside: “What should we do? What if Mom kicks them out? Grace looks so much like Lauren—I don’t want her to leave!”
Timothy’s voice came softly, trying to comfort him: “Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to make them stay.”
The moment I pushed open the door, Laurence immediately put on his well-behaved act, taking my bag from my hands and running off to put it away.
Timothy personally helped me change into slippers: “Hazel, we have relatives visiting. I’ll introduce you to them in a bit.”
“So mysterious? Even I haven’t met them?” I forced a smile, maintaining basic courtesy.
But Laurence seemed afraid I’d get suspicious and quickly ran over to take my hand: “They’re Dad’s distant relatives! Mom, you know Dad’s family is huge—it’s totally normal that you haven’t met them.”
With that, he led me into the living room, where I immediately saw a mother and daughter. They sat there with the air of hosts, their gazes fixed directly on me with wariness and defiance, only quickly restraining themselves when Timothy looked their way.
I glanced at Timothy, and he seized the opportunity to introduce them according to his pre-rehearsed story: “This is my aunt Camila, and next to her is her daughter Grace. They’ve been back in the country for a while now, and they specially made time to visit us.”
Camila kept smiling—a smile that, to the uninformed, might seem genuine: “Yes, seeing how loving you two are as a couple puts my mind at ease!”
Then she pretended to check the time: “It’s getting late. Grace, we shouldn’t disturb their rest any longer.”
Just as she was about to get up and leave, Timothy and Laurence exchanged glances, and Laurence suddenly rushed over to hug Grace’s thigh: “Mom, I really like Grace the moment I saw her. Please let her stay!”
Timothy and Laurence took turns speaking, clearly having already made the decision for me.
Grace stayed, supposedly because she couldn’t bear to leave Laurence. But honestly, was it really my son she couldn’t bear to leave?
That evening, Grace sat on the sofa in revealing clothes, playing happily with Laurence while occasionally glancing at Timothy.
The fabric on her legs kept sliding down with her deliberate movements—I could even clearly see her underwear.
Timothy noticed her behavior too. With just one look, the nanny understood and took Laurence upstairs.
Before leaving, Laurence was still worried about Timothy and the woman who was seducing his father.
He said: “Dad, Mom’s definitely asleep by now. You better seize this opportunity!”
Only after Laurence’s figure disappeared at the top of the stairs did Timothy begin scolding Grace: “Lauren would never do something so degrading, let alone seduce a married man. As her sister…”
“Timothy, do you think I’m cheap? But I’m clearly trying to protect Lauren’s man for her.” Grace’s slender fingers gently traced across Timothy’s chest, her gaze seductive.
She said: “Why don’t you just pretend I’m Lauren? Looking at this face, don’t you want to do something to me?”
One moment, Timothy was speaking with righteous conviction and unwavering determination.
The next, he easily crossed his final moral boundary because of a face that bore a seventy percent resemblance to his first love.
In the room separated from my bedroom by only a wall, their intimate sounds drifted over intermittently, amplified endlessly in my ears.
My stomach immediately churned violently. I rushed to the bathroom, where physical discomfort mixed with psychological revulsion. I hunched over the toilet, dry heaving with reddened eyes. When I stood up, dizziness overwhelmed me, and I stumbled, knocking over an uncapped bottle of spaghetti sauce that scattered across the floor.
This happened to interrupt their passionate encounter.
The sultry moaning stopped abruptly. “What was that noise?”
Timothy seemed to remember something and suddenly grew tense. “Hazel?”
Footsteps approached, hurried and panicked. “Hazel?”
He ran over barefoot and, seeing the glass shards scattered everywhere, immediately pulled me into his arms. “How could you be so careless? Are you hurt?”
When I didn’t respond, he anxiously examined me from head to toe. A small cut on my hand made him extremely nervous. “You’re bleeding?”
I had been desperately suppressing my inner anguish, but a tear still silently fell onto the back of his hand. As if burned, he immediately looked up at me, anxious and heartbroken. “Hazel, don’t cry! I’ll get the first aid kit right now.”
He didn’t know that no medicine could heal the wound in my heart.
Taking advantage of Timothy’s absence, Grace walked in with a smile, the lingering flush on her face stinging my eyes.
She slowly crouched down in front of me, brazenly asserting her dominance right in front of me, his wife. “You’ve known who I am all along, haven’t you? Then you should also understand that Timothy was always mine. If Lauren hadn’t died when I was still young, how could Timothy have married you? So you’d better behave yourself and stop trying to get his attention.”
My long-suppressed grievances completely spiraled out of control after hearing these words, and I demanded, “What gives you the right to warn me? Just because of that face?”
As soon as the words left my mouth, a flash of shock and resentment crossed her face, and her gaze became aggressive, as if I were the one destroying someone else’s family.
She shouted, “That’s enough!”
Before I could react, I watched helplessly as she picked up a glass shard from the floor and unhesitatingly slashed it toward her face, followed by a piercing scream. “Don’t cut my face! Please! Don’t cut my face!”
Hearing the commotion, Timothy rushed in and went straight to Grace.
She cried pitifully. “Timothy, what should I do? Am I going to be disfigured?”
Timothy’s eyes were full of heartache, and without asking for any explanation, he scolded me: “When did you become so vicious?”
I said, “What if I told you I didn’t do it? Would you believe me?”
Timothy replied, “What woman would mess with her own face as a joke? If you didn’t do it, did she hurt herself?”
His tone—both questioning and accusatory—left me speechless for a moment.
I wanted to say “check the security footage,” but in the end, I kept quiet.
The man who once promised he’d always trust me gave me a cold look, picked up Grace, and left with the first aid kit.
Turns out his “always” had an expiration date too.
I watched them walk away, then slowly turned my gaze to the calendar on the corner of the table.
Three more days.
During this tense period between Timothy and me, it seemed like the lady of the house had been replaced.
Laurence and Timothy acted like I didn’t exist, while Grace laughed happily around the father and son. Only I felt like an outsider.
It wasn’t until the evening of the second day that Timothy reluctantly took my hand: “Hazel, this whole thing was your fault to begin with. Just apologize to Grace and we can put this behind us, okay?”
“You’re awfully eager for me to apologize. That doesn’t seem like typical concern from a cousin to his cousin,” I said flatly.
Timothy’s expression clearly stiffened: “Hazel, don’t let your imagination run wild. She’s finally visiting our home, and now her face is injured. If Camila finds out, it’ll disrupt family harmony.”
“Disrupt harmony?” I thought to myself. What you’re really worried about is whether that face—so similar to your first love—will be scarred.
Ever since Grace’s face was injured, she’d been deliberately making excuses not to get treatment, saying that since I couldn’t stand looking at her face, she simply wouldn’t bother treating it.
She was obviously trying to disgust me and force me to apologize. Timothy must have seen through this too, which is why he had no choice but to come to me today.
He said, “Hazel, just go apologize to Grace.”
I said, “Okay.”
He seemed surprised that I’d agreed so easily and was momentarily stunned.
A flicker of inexplicable unease crossed his mind, but it quickly disappeared, as if it had never been there.
He immediately returned to his usual intimacy: “That’s wonderful, Hazel. Don’t fight with us anymore, okay? You have no idea how upset we’ve been these past two days when you wouldn’t talk to us or acknowledge us. Laurence cried twice, and I’ve been miserable too.”
Timothy looked up at me, as if afraid something might affect my mood.
I said, “You know I’m a germaphobe—both physically and emotionally. Once something gets dirty, I won’t want it anymore.”
His expression grew tense, showing a panic I’d never seen before, and he immediately held me tight: “That won’t happen, Hazel. Don’t abandon Laurence and me. We can’t live without you.”
I smiled, my tone gentle but my eyes completely cold: “Of course I know that. You’re not that kind of person. You wouldn’t have feelings for someone else, and you’d never cheat. Laurence would never accept another woman as his mother either.”
As soon as I finished speaking, Timothy’s arms around me began to tremble slightly.
He tightened his embrace and said with reluctance yet determination: “Let’s have Grace go home tomorrow. I still hope our family of three won’t be disturbed by outsiders.”
I said: “Alright, then come home early. We’ll have dinner together—I’ll wait at home for you and Laurence.”
I agreed so readily because tomorrow was the day I would leave.
That dinner would be the last meal the three of us would share together.
On the morning of my departure, Laurence hugged me reluctantly: “Mom, see you tonight. I’ll think about you every moment at school.”
I nodded expressionlessly and quietly slipped a severance agreement into his backpack.
He asked curiously: “Mom, what did you put in my bag?”
I said: “A gift for you.”
He asked: “Does Dad have one too?”
I said: “Of course.”
After Laurence left, I quietly placed a divorce agreement on Timothy’s study desk.
At noon, I began thoroughly removing all traces of myself from the house: jewelry, clothes, hats, photos, paintings, even the fresh flowers I had arranged in the living room. Everything that belonged to me was packed up and sent to a disposal center.
What I needed to do was completely disappear from their lives.
After finishing all this, I spent the entire afternoon until evening preparing our final dinner together. However, when the appointed time came, neither of them returned home.
I made three phone calls, and Grace finally answered: “Are you annoying or what? Timothy came with me to the cemetery to visit Lauren, and he won’t be coming home tonight. If you want to wait, wait until dawn.”
I asked: “What about Laurence? He…”
She said: “He’s here too, of course.”
The call ended, and my arm slowly dropped. The appetizing dishes on the table now seemed glaringly irritating, so I dumped them all into the trash can.
The only brightness was extinguished. Looking around, the entire room was left with only black and white, and within this cold palette, traces of the laughter I once shared with Timothy and Laurence still lingered. Before I knew it, tears blurred my vision, only to be silently wiped away.
The clock struck eight with a soft “tick”—this was my final deadline to leave.
The tech specialist sent a message: [Ms. Nelson, time’s up. You still have a chance to change your mind.]
I replied: [No, I’m ready.]
Then I sent Timothy one final message: [I’m leaving. We’ll never see each other again.]
I decisively snapped my phone card in half, turned around without a trace of nostalgia, my eyes filled only with resolve.
The car carried me toward Sunrise Technology and toward an unknown future.
Since they chose to miss this final chance to see me, there would be no more chances.
Because from now on, I would no longer be Timothy’s wife, nor would I be Laurence’s mother.
I would simply be Hazel—the one who had completely disappeared.
From this day forward, no one would ever be able to find my trace again.
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Nine years ago, my three-year-old sister died in an accident at home.
In public, my parents wailed and lamented, as if they wished to follow her into the grave.
But behind closed doors, they’d only twist my thigh viciously, screaming, “You worthless piece of trash! Why didn’t you die with that little bitch?!”
And my younger brother, who seemed to have a monstrous streak born into him, would nonchalantly rip apart the only floral dress my sister had owned, muttering, “Who told you not to give it to me?”
I heard my mom’s hysterical screams as soon as I reached the apartment building entrance.
“You useless brat! Where the hell have you been?!”
The moment I slid the key into the lock, she yanked the door open. Her hand shot out, grabbing my hair with a brutal force, pulling me inside. “Goddammit, you little tramp! You dare play disappearing acts on me?! I’ll show you today…”
My mom had always been a woman of swift and brutal action.
She was the same when she hit me now, striking without a second thought. She didn’t care if the door was open or closed, how many neighbors were watching, or that I was a twenty-five-year-old woman with a right to some dignity.
I took it silently. Wherever she dragged my face, I followed, my body swaying like a rag doll under her blows. It wasn’t until she tired herself out that I finally got the chance to collapse on the floor, gasping for air.
She turned to spit a few times at the nosy neighbors in the hallway, then slammed the door shut and kicked me. “Speak up! Where have you been these past two days? Huh?!”
Every inch of my body was burning with pain, so I tried my best to press myself against the cold concrete floor, answering her in a voice that was surprisingly calm. “I had a minor surgery, in the city. My phone got lost, so I couldn’t…”
“Surgery?” My mom sneered, grabbing my hair again, and warned me, “Don’t you dare try anything funny!”
I didn’t say a word, keeping my eyes fixed on the clumps of dull, yellowish hair she’d ripped from my scalp, scattered on the floor.
“Go cook,” my mom said, assuming I’d surrendered. She rolled her eyes, turned, and plopped back onto the sofa. “Your brother’s about to be home from school. Hurry up.”
My name is Alice, and I’m a mukbang influencer.
My mom named me Alice. She always said it came from the word ‘worthless’ or ‘bitch’ because that’s what I was to her. When I was born, she tried to suffocate me in the fields, but a local official saw her and fined our family five dollars. When I was six, the village mandated compulsory schooling, and my mom was forced to pay the fifteen dollars for my textbooks that semester. When I got my first period at twelve, I cried, thinking I was dying. My mom kicked me once before tossing me a tattered rag. She said it cost five cents a foot. It wasn’t until my brother was born that my mom stopped calling me ‘worthless’ every single day.
Sometimes, when I held my baby brother and he bit my face, giggling afterward, my mom would actually praise me, saying I was at least useful for something, for comforting her precious boy. But honestly, I never liked my brother. My favorite was always my sister, a little girl who was soft and pink when she was born, who never bit my face, and whose first word was “big sister.”
But she died, nine years ago.
My mom said she crawled into the washing machine herself and was shredded to death. My mom even went to the appliance store in the city and caused a huge scene, sitting by the storefront for an entire month until she extorted fifty thousand dollars in compensation. Then, she and my brother moved into a new house in town. Even my dad, who’d been working out of state for years, rushed back, smoking premium cigars in the new house.
They were overjoyed, practically feasting on blood money, celebrating as a family.
But unfortunately, my parents were only good at spending money, not earning it.
So, they quickly set their sights on me.
They wanted to sell me off to some old widower in the village, but my brother, fiddling with his new phone, coldly suggested I cash in on the mukbang trend instead. He said it would bring in money more consistently in the long run. He held up my sister’s old possessions, almost as a threat, and looked at me with contempt. “She was worthless anyway, always eating weird things. It’ll make great content for your streams.”
I just stared at the things in his hand and silently agreed.
My streams took off, just as they’d envisioned.
They reveled in the growing numbers in their bank account each day, but they couldn’t see the scrolling insults and abuse that filled my live chat. The surgery I had this time, the one I kept secret from my mom, was because I’d eaten too much plastic. When I was discharged, the doctor told me to take good care of my body. I just smiled, not saying a word.
Because I knew my mom and the others wouldn’t tolerate it.
Sure enough, on the third day after I got home, my mom threw a handful of sunflower seed shells at my head. “Hey, useless! Why aren’t you streaming yet?”
I was sitting on a small stool in the kitchen, washing dishes, not daring to shake off the shells from my hair. “I had surgery. The doctor told me to…”
“Don’t you give me that,” she scoffed. “Tomorrow, I’m buying you a pig’s head for your stream. Oh, and your brother’s school needs tuition for his extra classes. Transfer the money to him right away!”
I nodded silently.
“And,” my mom added, without even looking back, “you still need to cook dinner on time. Don’t think that just because you’re making a little money from streaming, I’ll be serving you.”
I scrubbed hard at the grease on a plate, lowering my head. “Okay.”
The next morning, I sat down in front of my computer and started streaming.
On the table was the pig’s head my mom had carefully chosen, its skin singed and blackened, looking massive and greasy. I put on my practiced smile, ignoring the scrolling comments, and exaggeratedly said, “Oh, my darlings, looking at this pig’s head, aren’t your mouths watering? But don’t rush, don’t rush! For just one sports car, your streamer can eat it for you!”
My mom sat behind the computer, her eyes filled with undisguised greed. She eagerly anticipated the stream of gifts from previous broadcasts, but to her dismay, today’s viewers weren’t buying it. They just spammed random comments, and not a single sports car appeared. So I kept repeating the same phrases, trying to entice them, while my mom stared at me, her gaze a silent pressure.
I knew that if the camera weren’t there, she would have pounced on me, hitting me and screaming about what a worthless piece of trash I was. Perhaps from years of beatings, I unconsciously started to tremble in front of the camera.
【Is this girl poisoned from eating? LOL, why is she shaking?】
【Who knows, she’s disgusting to watch!】
【Can the mod ban her? This pig’s head is making me sick.】
I scanned the comments line by line, my smile unwavering. While repeating my lines, I subtly glanced at my mom. She signaled me to eat first to attract more traffic.
So I smiled flatteringly at the camera, putting on a sweet, high-pitched voice. “My darlings are chatting so happily! You all forgot to send Alice a sports car! But it’s okay, today’s a big giveaway stream! Alice will take a bite for all of you first, okay?”
【Is this girl blind?】
【She’s got some nerve.】
I adjusted the camera, zooming in on my bright red lips, and slowly bit into the singed, blackened ear of the pig’s head.
But in the next second, my brother burst in, and right in front of the camera, he slammed his hand across my face, hard. “Worthless bitch!”
I stumbled, collapsing to the floor. The pig’s head, with a smudge of my lipstick, rolled onto the ground.
Caleb was furious.
Slamming me to the ground wasn’t enough. He kicked me several times, spitting out the most vile insults. My mom rushed forward, immediately turning off the stream, then tenderly picked up the pig’s head, dusting it off. Her face darkened as she stood by, watching me writhe in pain on the floor.
After Caleb finally vented his anger, she came over and added another slap, punishing me for my poor streaming performance that day. She called me a “worthless good-for-nothing” before turning to ask Caleb, with concern, what was wrong.
Blood dripped steadily from my nose onto the floor. I didn’t bother to wipe it, just watched it slowly collect into a small pool.
“She transferred the money directly to my teacher!” Caleb shouted hysterically at my mom. “Didn’t I tell you to make her transfer it directly to ME?!”
He kicked over the ‘fairy chair’ I used for streaming, pacing furiously. “Now look what happened?! Jax and his guys were looking for me outside, demanding their money back! What am I going to do?! Huh?!”
He roared several more times, then his tone shifted, and he started to cry, pulling my mom’s hand and kneeling. “Mom, Mom, Mom, save me, save me… They’ll kill me! Please save me, please…”
I remained with my head turned, unmoving, but I knew my mom was surely heartbroken for Caleb right now, maybe even shedding a few tears.
“Okay, okay, Mom, Mom will save you,” my mom promised repeatedly, quickly helping Caleb up. After comforting him for a few more minutes, she came over and, without a word, started patting down my pockets.
My entire body ached so badly that I had no strength to resist. In the end, I could only watch helplessly as my mom took the six hundred twenty-five dollars I’d hidden in my bra. She gave it to Caleb, telling him to use it for an emergency, to go plead with Jax for a few more days of extension.
“Three days, just three days!” My mom held Caleb’s hand, her eyes filled with aching tenderness. “Mom will make sure this worthless good-for-nothing gets all the money for you, okay? Don’t be afraid, my little Caleb.”
Caleb and my mom left.
As he walked out, he didn’t forget to kick me one last time.
I lay on the floor, I don’t know how long, before struggling to get up. I reopened the computer, watching the rolling comments in the live stream room.
A notification chimed in the bottom right corner.
—My virus is pretty good, huh! Guaranteed your mom won’t know you’re still streaming ( ･⊝･∞)
I stretched my lips into an ugly smile and replied: Good.
Caleb gambling wasn’t anything new in my family. In fact, my mom often secretly gave him money to cover his debts. All because he was the son she held dear.
As for me, I was forced to display my severe pica to everyone daily, endure online abuse, and earn money for them, simply because I was a daughter. And my three-year-old sister, even after being tragically shredded to death in the washing machine, they weren’t sad at all. Her makeshift funeral was only for the sake of the reporters, also because she was a daughter.
They shamelessly enjoyed all the benefits my sister and I brought them, yet they were too stingy to give us anything in return. Why?
I calmly displayed my fresh wounds to the camera, without saying a word, then simply turned off the stream.
I made a rare post in the fan group the platform had created for me.
[Alice]: Darlings, see you tomorrow night!
The next morning, I handed my mom a crumpled bankbook.
My mom was overjoyed, quickly flipping it open. “How much is in here? Enough for Caleb to pay off his debts?”
I nodded. “Enough…”
“Good!” My mom excitedly stood up, clutching the bankbook, and put on her coat to leave. But as she was about to close the door, she turned back and shot me a venomous glare. “I knew you were hiding money! Just you wait till I get back, I’ll deal with you!”
I stood meekly in place, head bowed. Once my mom truly left, I picked out a gaudy, floral dress my mom had bought for my streams, put it on, and pushed open the front door.
This neighborhood was full of old apartment buildings, and a maze of alleyways snaked out the back. As I stepped into one, someone eagerly wrapped their arms around me from behind. The man’s scent instantly filled my nostrils, his stubbled face pressed tightly against mine. “Baby, you’re finally here. I missed you so much.”
I remained stiff in his embrace, my voice dripping with honey. “Here I am, aren’t I?”
The man chuckled, then moved to face me, lifting my chin to kiss me. But his eyes widened when he saw the bruise on my lip.
“Caleb did this?” His eyes filled with concern.
I lowered my gaze, not answering.
The man understood my silence and cursed loudly. “He came begging me for an extension this morning! And he dared to hit you! If I don’t beat the hell out of that bastard, what’s my name, Jax, even worth?!”
But I gently covered his mouth with my hand, shaking my head. “Don’t, Ash. He’s my brother.”
Jax held my hand, caressing it carefully. “Baby, you’re too kind! You treat him like a brother, but he doesn’t see you as a sister. He hit you so hard, it breaks my heart to see it!”
My face showed distress. After thinking for a moment, I stood on my tiptoes and lightly kissed the corner of his mouth, comforting him. “Be good.”
When I got home, my mom still wasn’t back. I went into the bathroom and stared blankly at my reflection in the mirror, then began scrubbing viciously at the spots Jax had touched.
So dirty, too dirty.
I didn’t stop until my skin was raw and broken. Only then did I feel a sense of relief.
Jax was the ‘Blade’ Caleb had mentioned. He was just a petty thug from our old village. After our family moved here, he followed, and he only got deeper into the underworld, becoming a small-time loan shark in this area.
But no one knew that Jax had liked me for many years.
A few years ago, when I met Jax again here, he saw with his own eyes how Caleb was beating me. He scared Caleb away, but I stopped him from retaliating. After Caleb fled in a panic, for the first time, I didn’t resist Jax’s touch. Instead, I weakly collapsed into his arms, crying and telling him how much I hurt.
Jax was startled and immediately wanted to take me to the hospital. But I told him all I needed was for him to hold me and stay with me. From then on, this unspoken relationship was established.
Although I never let Jax directly confront Caleb, every time I showed him my injuries, I knew Caleb would suffer a brutal beating. In fact, Caleb’s frequent visits to underground casinos and his reliance on high-interest loans since junior high were all Jax’s doing.
It’s quite laughable. Jax wasn’t a good person, yet he fell for someone like me, who only pretended to be good for him.
hat evening, the live stream started on time.
Tonight, my mom had given me a bag full of leaves. She’d picked them from the locust tree downstairs at the apartment building on her way back from the bank. Many of them still had dirt clinging to them. But my mom said that made them fresh, more interesting.
【Is this girl eating leaves today? Is she crazy?】
【Her pica is so severe, someone help her see a doctor.】
【She’s probably just using this for clicks! So shameless!】
I smiled, reading the comments, repeating my usual lines, but still, no one seemed willing to send gifts. My mom’s face grew anxious. She even stood up, as if she wanted to rush to the camera herself and urge the viewers to send gifts.
“Eat! Eat first!” she mouthed to me.
My smile didn’t falter. I immediately picked up a leaf, choosing the one with the most dirt on it, put it in my mouth, and chewed it with relish.
【Holy crap, she really ate it! Savage!】
【Won’t that cause health problems? Doesn’t she have family to stop her?】
【You must be new. Didn’t you watch last night’s stream, LOL?】
The strong, earthy taste of dirt spread in my mouth, but I didn’t even flinch. I had eaten dirt before, the gritty sand from our old village home. Because there was simply nothing else to eat.
My sister had just been born then, and my dad, working out of state, had been furious on the phone, yelling at my mom. So my mom was in a bad mood too. She ignored my sister’s wailing for milk and instead bought half a chicken to make soup for Caleb.
All I had was half a chicken head, earned with a slap to the face, which I traded with the grandma next door, who raised two sheep, for a small bowl of goat milk for my sister.
But I was so hungry. So, in my desperation, I scooped up the dirt from the ground and ate it. That’s when my pica tore open its first crack.
In front of the camera, just as I swallowed the leaf, someone finally sent a sports car. My mom’s face lit up with delight, signaling me to quickly thank them. So, I stretched my throat, hoarse from the dirt, and recited the long string of thank yous without pausing for breath. My mom wanted me to press on, to keep eating, but then, my stream was suddenly shut down.
In the end, my mom didn’t hit me, probably because of the sports car. She just gave me a cold glare and muttered “worthless good-for-nothing” as she closed the door. I sat in the chair, staring blankly at the black screen of my computer. The room was eerily quiet.
But not long after, I heard my brother’s cursing from his video game, followed by my mom’s solicitous fussing over him, and then, a faint aroma of chicken drifted in. I sniffed for a while, then couldn’t hold it back anymore and started to vomit. My stomach churned and lurched until I thought I’d thrown up all my stomach acid, then it finally stopped.
My phone, its screen cracked like a spiderweb, lit up. It was that person from yesterday, sing.
—I reported it just in time, right? ₍˄·͈༝·͈˄*₎◞ ̑̑
I ignored the message, then reopened my computer and posted in the fan group.
[Alice]: Darlings, I got reported! See you in three days, don’t miss it!
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I’d been by Julian’s side for thirteen years.
He had a never-ending parade of women by his side, while I lived in a desolate, lonely bubble for years.
Everyone said I, a new-money nobody, was out of my mind to even *think* about an old-money dynasty like his.
I never uttered a single word in response to their gossip.
Until, suddenly, a woman who looked exactly like me appeared by his side – she was about to become his fiancée.
A strange calm washed over me. And finally, I blurted out the words I’d held back from Julian for so long:
“I want to get married.”
He was silent for a moment. “What are you talking about, Harper?” he said.
Swallowing the bitter ache in my chest, I looked straight into his eyes. My voice was icy, devoid of any affection.
“Not to you.”
A cup of lukewarm water hit my face, but it chilled me to the bone.
The elegant, high-class woman across from me looked down, watching me. The teacup clattered against the table.
“Julian is about to get engaged to Isabella Zhao, the only daughter of the Zhao family. I don’t want anything to jeopardize their wedding.”
“I can overlook all the one-sided things you’ve done in the past, but I expect you, from now on…”
“Know what’s good for you, and stay far away from him.”
…
Her words still sliced through me, sharp and clear, echoing in my mind.
I jolted awake from my dream, my phone vibrating wildly on the nightstand.
I squinted, grabbed my phone without checking the caller ID, and hit the answer button.
The other end was incredibly noisy, a mix of music and voices, but the caller said nothing.
“Hello?”
Still silence.
I was so tired, I was about to hang up.
Then Julian’s deep voice cut through the clamor, hitting my eardrums directly.
“You’re back from your vacation?”
His voice was a little hoarse, like he’d just woken up.
Three months ago, I’d finally decided to quit my job, but Julian strongly objected. Still, my mind was made up. He ended up taking a roundabout approach, giving me three months off instead.
But I was using a roundabout approach too. I’d planned to simply never come back after those three months were up.
“…Come find me.”
Over the phone, he said that so casually, yet I could sense the simmering emotion underneath.
It made my ear tingle.
He probably had no idea why I suddenly wanted to quit or why I was drawing a line between us.
I still went.
People are strange. No matter how rational I try to be, sometimes I just can’t control myself.
Navigating the dimly lit bar, with music vibrating through the floor, I skillfully wove through the crowd and found Julian.
I never understood why he always chose the same booth, or why he liked this kind of noisy environment.
I saw him sitting in the center of the booth, half-asleep in an uncomfortable position. His lowered lashes cast shadows on his handsome, striking face, making him look quiet and surprisingly vulnerable.
Around him, people clinked glasses, laughing and chatting. It was such a lively scene.
Yet he seemed so utterly alone.
“Julian.”
At the sound of my voice, he lifted his eyelids. His gaze cut through the blurred faces and the dim, shifting lights, landing on me.
He spoke, his voice still hoarse, “You’re here.”
I sighed softly, pushing down the ache in my chest, and handed him the hotel key card.
His place was too far, so almost every time he got drunk, he’d end up staying at the same hotel. And he was so stubborn about these things.
Like always going to the same nightclub, always sitting in the same spot, and of course, always staying in his usual hotel room.
As his executive assistant, these daily chores were part of my job.
After three months off, he still assumed I was the same as before.
Julian squinted his tired eyes, signaling the woman beside him to take the key card from my hand.
As she reached out, the swaying light revealed a face that looked somewhat like mine.
My heart clenched.
My mind raced, wondering which new “confidante” this was by his side.
Out of professional instinct, I offered her a friendly smile, but I didn’t miss the flicker of malice in her eyes.
I felt a pang of helplessness, and for a moment, I was lost in thought.
He was about to get engaged, yet he was still hanging out with these other women? Mrs. Eleanor had even tracked *me* down, but she hadn’t reined in this ‘confidante’?
Handing her the key card, I felt a strange, undefinable mix of emotions.
I sat in the corner for a while. Julian had closed his eyes again, pretending to nap, occasionally leaning an ear to listen to someone talk. The woman beside him sat obediently.
The sight was actually quite pleasant.
I let out a self-deprecating laugh, grabbed my bag, and got ready to leave.
After all, I’d already made up my mind to quit. My presence here today was just a momentary lapse of emotion.
Before I could take a single step, a hand suddenly landed on my shoulder.
There were always a few clueless people around Julian who’d bump into me. Today, it was another one.
A drunk man suddenly leaned in, his eyes raking over me, a light, teasing smile on his face.
“Ms. Harper, long time no see?”
I narrowed my eyes slightly, unable to place him for a moment.
He familiar wrapped an arm around my shoulder, then subtly tilted his chin, gesturing toward the woman next to Julian.
“Do you know who she is? The Zhao family’s heiress. Beautiful, from a family perfectly matched with Mr. Julian’s, and so gentle and sweet.”
The Zhao family’s heiress?
My gaze snapped to the woman, and my heart felt like it was punctured by a needle, deflating, a wave of bitterness spreading through me. I was momentarily stunned.
I didn’t notice the man leaning closer, his mouth moving. I could barely hear him:
“Honestly, after all these years, you’ve been on call, always putting in the effort, and Mr. Julian has never even truly looked at you.”
“Why don’t you… find a new target?”
As he spoke, he suddenly touched my hand, his voice laced with insinuation. “Whatever Mr. Julian can give you, I can give you too.”
That flirty tone and look almost made me sick. I finally snapped back to reality, just as I was about to pull away.
A powerful force suddenly yanked me into Julian’s embrace.
Julian’s expression hadn’t changed, but the ruthlessness in his eyes was barely contained. He kicked the man who’d put his hands on me.
He simply waved his fingers in the air, not even frowning. Out of the shadows, several hidden bodyguards emerged, dragging the man away.
The man seemed to sober up then, crying out in despair, “Mr. Julian! Mr. Julian, please forgive me! I was drunk, Mr. Julian! Please, have mercy!”
His figure was dragged further and further away, his voice fading until it completely disappeared into the noisy background music.
No one dared to look over, no one dared to stop what they were doing. The music, the lights, the swaying dancers – everything continued. In just a few minutes, it was as if nothing had happened.
My shoulder was aching a little.
Julian’s fingers were practically digging into my flesh. He seemed genuinely angry.
Years of habit made me instinctively pat the back of his hand in an attempt to soothe him.
Seeing that he still hadn’t let go, I awkwardly wriggled free from his embrace.
I gave him a distant smile. “Thanks, Julian.”
His expression finally shifted, his brows furrowing slightly. “Harper, I only gave you three months off. Can’t you even talk properly anymore?”
Julian seemed stung by the detachment in my tone and actions.
I smiled faintly, then my gaze swept past him to the woman behind him, who was glaring at me with venomous eyes.
Isabella Zhao, the Zhao family’s heiress.
Recalling Mrs. Eleanor’s words, I sighed and gently pushed Julian. “Julian, the hotel is all set up. I have something else to do, so I’ll head out. You have fun.”
Julian kept feeling like I had changed since coming back from my three-month vacation.
No, actually, I had changed the moment I told him I was quitting.
Especially that push.
He suddenly felt like there was a thorn stuck in his throat, something he couldn’t swallow, making him uneasy no matter how he thought about it.
“What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting so strange today? Are you trying to annoy me the moment you get back from your vacation?”
I don’t know why, but usually I was so tolerant, endlessly patient with him. This time, however, I felt an inexplicable impatience, and I couldn’t control my tone. “How am I annoying you?”
Julian pursed his lips, staring at me with a dark, brooding expression.
Seeing his face, I sighed slightly. Subconsciously, I still couldn’t bring myself to lose my temper with him.
A smile returned to my face as I explained, “Julian, I just think it’s too noisy here.”
Julian glanced at the people in the booth, then back at me. “Too noisy?”
I nodded.
Without another word, he pulled my wrist and led me outside.
It was still a bit chilly in March, especially after stepping out of such a stiflingly hot environment.
The moment the cold air hit me, I couldn’t help but shiver.
Julian skillfully opened my shoulder bag, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. Smoke wafted around his face, creating a haze that obscured his expression.
He had just woken up, and his voice was still a bit husky.
He asked me, “Did you have fun?”
He was asking if I had a good time during my three-month vacation.
I really did.
I thought back, a smile unconsciously forming on my lips, and nodded. “Yeah, I had a great time.”
He looked at me, his smoking hand pausing.
Julian saw my smile and let out a small, mirthless laugh. “Where did you go? Just thinking about it makes you this happy.”
I spoke as if in contemplation. “I just went back to my hometown and met an old friend.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, keenly catching the phrase “old friend,” and he asked,
“A man?”
I hadn’t thought much about it, my smile still lingering, and nodded gently.
Maybe it was some kind of male sixth sense.
Seeing my expression, Julian’s heart felt like it was twisted, a surge of bitterness rising.
“Who is it?”
His tone tightened, carrying a hint of danger.
I didn’t notice his sudden shift in mood and waved a dismissive hand. “You wouldn’t know him.”
“Even I wouldn’t know him?” Julian narrowed his eyes slightly.
Honestly, I’d known him for so long that he probably assumed he knew all my friends.
“A friend from before I moved to Haicheng—I mean, out here. You wouldn’t know him…”
Suddenly, I spotted the white figure behind Julian.
Isabella had followed him outside.
I nodded and smiled at her.
Putting everything else aside, simply because she was Julian’s future wife, I felt compelled to greet her respectfully.
That familiar bitterness had been welling up like a spring since earlier tonight, and I bit my lip, forcing the emotion back down.
Then I said to Julian, “…I won’t bother you and Ms. Isabella anymore.”
Julian frowned, glanced at Isabella with an annoyed expression, then shifted his gaze back to me, about to speak.
Just then, my phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, I felt a little helpless, but a softness entered my eyes.
I didn’t see Julian’s expression as I turned and answered the call.
“Leo.”
Even through the phone, I could hear his voice, so gentle it felt like it could melt into a puddle.
I quickly walked a couple of steps away, sighing helplessly. “What’s up? Are you still awake this late?”
A soft laugh came from the other end. “What can I say? You left, and suddenly I can’t sleep.”
His blatant honesty made my earlobes warm, but I couldn’t bring myself to sound stern. I just said, with no real authority, “Talk properly.”
“How am I not talking properly?” His voice naturally carried a hint of tenderness that made my heart feel soft.
He pressed his advantage. “Harper, darling~ Harper, darling~ I miss you so much I can’t sleep…”
It’s true, when a man acts cute, most women find it hard to resist.
I felt a little embarrassed, but some rationality remained. I couldn’t help but glance back at Julian and quickly said, “Stop, stop! I’m still busy with some work here. I’ll hang up first.”
He sounded pitiful. “Oh… well, call me back when you’re done.”
I didn’t want to deal with him.
He then gave a completely unthreatening warning. “If you don’t call me, I’m coming over to your place later.”
I had no choice but to nod helplessly. “Okay, okay, I’ll call you back in a bit.”
After hanging up, I slowly exhaled, feeling utterly flushed and uncomfortable as I turned around.
I saw Julian, his eyes dark and deep like an ocean with hidden currents, so profound they seemed to threaten to pull me under.
For no reason, I felt a flicker of danger.
My movements paused as I shoved my phone into my bag. “…What’s wrong?”
His voice was even hoarser, as if the words were squeezed from his throat. “Who was that?”
“Huh?”
“Who was that person on the phone?” Julian said, each word distinct.
He looked like he was on the verge of exploding.
I was slightly bewildered, unsure why he was suddenly so angry.
“That guy, who is he?”
He repeated, as if afraid I hadn’t heard him clearly.
I opened my mouth. “Just a friend…”
He finally lost control, stepping forward and snatching my phone. He expertly typed in the password, opened my contacts, and seeing the name, repeated it with a dark expression. “Leo.”
“What does that have to do with you?” I was starting to get angry too. How dare he snatch my phone? What right did he have to question me?
His fiancée was standing right there, so what standing did *he* have to meddle in my affairs?
But more importantly, I was afraid he’d do something irrational.
Leo couldn’t handle Julian.
I ran my hand through my hair, and in a fit of pique, slapped the phone onto the ground. The screen cracked.
I yelled his name. “Julian!”
Almost pleading, “Can you stop acting like this?”
He looked at me, disbelieving. “Me, acting up?”
“Harper, *you’re* the one who started this drama the moment you brought up quitting!”
🌟 Continue the story here
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I said I wouldn’t date early, and Julian Hayes waited for me until graduation.
I said I didn’t like physics, and he gave up a brilliant academic future.
Later, on a stormy night, Julian chased my car like a madman.
“Chloe, my brother is getting engaged to you?”
I lowered my head, forcing myself not to look at him.
“…Yes, after all these years, I can finally be openly with him. Thank you.”
Julian Hayes has Dissociative Identity Disorder – he doesn’t actually have a brother.
I was probably the first to know about it. In my senior year of high school, I transferred to Maywood High. He was the class president and disciplinary committee member, tall and pale-skinned, standing in the classroom like a young, growing sapling.
Every day, he’d be picked up and dropped off by luxury cars, surrounded by friends decked out in designer brands, and cheesy love letters slipped through the back door.
At the time, I thought, *So what if he’s damn handsome? No substance, just a flashy rich kid.*
A while later, during the summer sports festival, he wore long sleeves and pants, completely covered up, his zipper pulled all the way to the top, not even showing his neck.
I complained to my new best friend, Hailey, “Rich kids are something else. They don’t even sweat. Does he think he’s some kind of fairy?”
Hailey didn’t laugh. She leaned in and whispered, “His parents did that to him.”
My eyes widened. “Why?”
“I guess there’s something seriously wrong with his family.”
Hailey made a zipping-her-mouth gesture at me. “Everyone keeps quiet about it. Don’t go around talking.”
I nodded.
Then, I inwardly marveled. Julian looked so unbothered day after day, despite everything. And he got first place on every test. He was truly something else.
On the last day of the sports festival, it was my turn for after-class clean-up.
After evening study hall, I finished wiping the blackboard and the podium. It was already pitch black outside.
The motion-sensor lights in the stairwell weren’t working, no matter how much noise I made.
I fumbled my way down the stairs, trembling and gripping the wall. Around the corner, I saw a silhouette and a flickering light.
“Class President?”
Julian exhaled a thick puff of smoke, staring at me without speaking.
I inexplicably felt an ominous aura from him; he was like a completely different person from his usual self.
“Julian, don’t you usually go home before evening study hall?”
He let out a cold laugh, then suddenly grabbed my arm, pinning me against the wall.
“I’m Jax, not that damn loser brother.”
“Watch this.”
He put the cigarette butt down and brutally ground it into the back of his hand.
The moment the fire disappeared, we were completely swallowed by darkness.
Julian’s voice was low. “He wouldn’t dare. He’s afraid of pain.”
“…You’re bleeding.”
I swallowed hard, scared, and fumbled through my bag, finally finding a band-aid.
“Here.”
Julian stared at the band-aid for a moment, then his hand suddenly trembled, and half the cigarette fell to the ground.
He blankly took the band-aid but didn’t move.
I tentatively called out, “Julian?”
“…I’m sorry.”
He abruptly stepped back, completely having forgotten what had just happened.
I waved my hand. “It’s fine. I’m going home now.”
Julian suddenly stopped me. “Chloe.”
I turned, looking up at him. “What is it?”
“I… have night blindness,” Julian whispered, leaning on the wall. “Can you lead me down?”
After that, I became the person in the world who understood Julian Hayes the most, overnight.
He had DID, night blindness, and possibly a subconscious self-destructive tendency.
But during the day, he was quiet, distant and pure like the moon.
“You don’t attend evening study hall because of night blindness?”
I passed him a small note.
He passed one back to me. “Yes.”
I started a new line. “Then I’ll walk with you from now on, or do you want to go home every day?”
—*If he’s getting beaten at home, no one would want to go back.*
Julian’s reply didn’t reach my hand until half a class later. I didn’t know what he was hesitating about, but the content was simple: “Okay.”
Our teacher, Mr. Davies, was teaching about the “Roche Limit.”
The Roche Limit for the Earth-Moon system is 9,000 kilometers. When the Moon gets too close to Earth, exceeding this limit, Earth’s strong tidal forces would rip the Moon apart, turning it into a ring orbiting the Earth.
I couldn’t truly understand it at the time.
Until one day, much later, I was leading Julian downstairs, and his father saw us.
Mr. Hayes kicked Julian in the stomach.
Julian tumbled down the stairs, clutching his head, his body curled tightly.
Like a stray animal, devoid of personality, just a life being wantonly abused.
“Bastard! I told you no early dating! I told you no early dating!”
“You’re so full of yourself!”
There was nothing I could do. I just felt that if he kept hitting Julian, Julian would die.
So I grabbed a large rock from the flower bed.
And threw it.
His father wailed, too much in pain to straighten up.
I pulled Julian up and we ran.
Much later, we collapsed in a dark alley by the roadside.
His arm was bleeding.
I was helpless, only able to ask, “…Does it hurt?”
Julian covered his face, silent for a very long time.
Finally, his voice trembled slightly. “Chloe, it hurts so much.”
My heart clenched. I leaned in and gently hugged him.
No one ever listened when he said he was in pain. Everyone just knowingly watched the so-called rich family’s drama unfold. But friends were fake, home was fake, everything was fake, only the pain was real.
Julian was the moon not allowed to approach other planets.
The distance he allowed me to close had long exceeded that limit.
He knew, deep down, that one day it would be discovered, and he’d face fury and physical abuse.
But he would shatter into a million pieces for one eternal embrace.
The next time I saw Jax Hayes, it was when I went to the police station with Julian.
Inside the station, he suddenly started twirling the black pen on the table, swaying slightly, and then pulled my hand to draw small flowers.
“Julian? You haven’t answered my question yet.”
I had already noticed he wasn’t himself. I quickly told the officer, “He needs a moment to recall. We’ll be right back.”
I dragged Jax out of the police station.
He smirked and whistled. “Well, hello there, pretty lady. Long time no see.”
I closed my eyes, then opened them, steeling my resolve. I slapped him hard.
No change. Julian didn’t come back.
Jax blinked, then laughed even harder.
“Such a fiery temper.”
“Be my girlfriend.”
He gripped my wrist, pulling me hard into his embrace.
I could only manage a shaky voice, shouting at him, “I won’t date early!”
Jax looked stunned. The concept of “early dating” seemed alien to him. He started clutching his stomach, as if about to burst out laughing. “You’re so cute.”
“Early what? Dating me, it’s nothing but regret you didn’t meet me sooner.”
He raised an eyebrow.
My lips moved, but I couldn’t think of a single thing to retort.
Jax roughly ruffled my hair. “Alright, alright, I’ll wait for you until graduation.”
“…Who wants you to wait?!”
I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Wait for what?”
The person in front of me was no longer a rogue. Only confusion remained in his eyes.
All my energy drained away. I said weakly, “Wait for a natural, clear day, I want to take you to the beach.”
Julian’s brow furrowed slightly.
I turned my head. “You haven’t heard that song?”
He blinked, looking gentle, humble, and polite. “No.”
“Silly.”
The police officer said things would get better.
We both believed it, and it turned out to be true. Half a month later, Julian’s parents lost custody, and his guardian became his grandmother, who lived abroad.
I asked Julian why he hadn’t saved himself all this time. Julian didn’t have an answer either.
He said he was just too tired.
Two months later, during the mock exams, Julian was dead last in his grade.
He crumpled the test paper into a ball and shoved it into Mr. Davies’s mouth.
I stopped doing my test. I reached out and grabbed him, almost begging in a whisper, “Jax, settle down. Apologize.”
*Don’t let everyone know, give Julian some space.*
But it was no use.
When Julian himself returned, the situation had escalated beyond calming. Even though the homeroom teacher was usually good-tempered, he couldn’t tolerate Jax’s extreme contempt. He made Julian stand in the hallway outside the classroom for the entire day.
This was an incredibly humiliating punishment.
Everyone who walked by would stare. And the once-glorious top student in the grade became the biggest topic of conversation that day.
“I think he’s… lost his mind too.”
“Right? How could he suddenly change so much, like a rabid dog, lashing out at everyone?”
I covered Julian’s ears.
He looked at me obediently, but his eyes held the bewildered confusion of someone who had caused immense trouble.
“You’re not sick, Julian. That was your brother. Not you.”
“Your brother’s name is Jax. He just causes trouble sometimes. It’s really no big deal, right? You’re always the master of this body.”
Julian mechanically repeated my words. “That was my brother.”
“I have DID. He’s my other personality.”
I was extremely reluctant to admit it, but I had to nod.
Julian was unusually calm.
He gave a faint smile and asked me, “So, you’d seen him before?”
My silence was the best answer.
He lowered his head, pushing me away with cold words. “Chloe, I don’t need your pity.”
I had a strange illusion that this summer had ended in that instant.
“Yeah, I was deluding myself.”
“It won’t happen again.”
I didn’t speak to him again until the college entrance exams.
Julian scored incredibly well. I didn’t pry into his exact score, but I heard our physics teacher was writing him a recommendation letter to study quantum mechanics at a top-tier Ivy League university abroad.
I performed normally, enough to get into a good university a few states over.
That night, the air was a bit cool. I had my bedroom window open, and Julian climbed in from outside.
“Hey there, pretty lady. Good thing your place is on the third floor, not the thirteenth.”
He panted, winking at me.
I was dumbfounded.
“You, how did you…?”
“How did you know where I live?”
Jax sat on the edge of my bed, propping his feet up. “I followed you, duh.”
“We’ve graduated. We can date now.”
He reminded me.
I pressed my lips together, cold. “I don’t remember.”
“Don’t remember?”
Jax stood up and pinned me against the desk.
“That won’t do.”
Saying that, he leaned in to kiss me. I covered my mouth with defiant resolve, blurting out without thinking, “I don’t like people who study physics!”
Jax stopped half an inch from me.
“My loser brother likes physics?”
I didn’t know; I just said it on a whim. But Jax clearly took it seriously. He mulled it over for a moment.
“Well, that won’t do. How could I let him have his way?”
I knew instantly he was going to cause trouble.
I knew he was crazy, but I didn’t expect him to actually do it.
Jax changed Julian’s university application. He filled in only one choice, and the major was non-negotiable: the same university and the same major as me.
After he finished, he sent me a SnapChat boasting, “Mission accomplished!”
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What would you do if you saw your husband kissing his mistress on the street?
Julian’s face tightened when he saw me. A cynical smile played on my lips as I raised my coffee cup in a mock toast to him.
**One**
Watching him, his face grim, his eyes flicking nervously between me and the young woman still clinging to his neck, I suddenly felt a twisted amusement. I knew he was terrified I’d snap again, storm over, and dump this coffee right onto that girl’s face, tearing into her until she was unrecognizable.
If this were the old me, I definitely would have. But now? It all just feels so pointless.
Outside the coffee shop, the girl tugged at Julian’s jacket, looking up at him like a spoiled child. Julian’s gaze darted my way for a second, then he lowered his head, a soft smile replacing his tension. He murmured sweet nothings to her, gripped her hand, and hurried away.
I stared at the coffee on the table for a long moment before finally picking it up and draining it in one gulp.
After so many years of marriage, we still had some warped understanding, apparently.
Julian, who hadn’t been home in six months, finally unlocked our front door today. I was already sitting on the couch, waiting for him.
I watched him hang his coat, then start to walk towards me, intending to sit beside me. I couldn’t help but inch away. Julian stiffened slightly, then casually settled onto the adjacent sofa.
I took a deep breath, my voice rough: “Julian, let’s get a divorce.”
The moment the words left my lips, a flicker of impatience crossed Julian’s face. His voice was cold, laced with annoyance: “Audrey, I have enough on my plate with company matters. I’m already stressed. Can you just not start this again?”
His reaction was exactly what I expected. After all, he’d calmly brought up divorce himself plenty of times when he was cheating. The only problem was, I’d always interrupted him with a hysterical outburst. Now that *I* was the one proposing it, he probably just saw it as my latest ploy to keep him.
I raised my hand, pulled the diamond ring off my ring finger, and tossed it onto the coffee table. The massive diamond flashed a cold brilliance under the light. “I’m serious. I’m not joking around.”
Julian finally took me a little more seriously. He raised an eyebrow, crossing his long legs, and looked at me with an air of casual amusement. “Reason?”
“I just find this life too boring. I want a new way to live.” I looked up at him, a cool, clear smile on my lips. I spoke each word distinctly: “After all, I’ve seen enough of your face.”
My words made Julian’s face fall. He stared at me intently, as if scrutinizing the truth behind my words. My expression remained calm, my demeanor serious.
Finally convinced I wasn’t just throwing another tantrum, he rubbed his temples in frustration, then patiently told me: “I don’t care how you spend your time when I’m not home. Divorce or not, it’s all the same. We’ve lived this way for so many years, why now? Why do you suddenly need to divorce?”
He looked at me, a hint of deeper meaning in his eyes, and reminded me: “Divorce is a big deal. You should think it through carefully, don’t just act on a whim.”
It was clear he still wasn’t taking me seriously. I knew he was warning me, reminding me that once we divorced, there’d be no turning back, urging me to think clearly. Too bad for his well-intentioned advice. This time, I genuinely had no desire to keep this charade going. It was just too exhausting.
Under my steady gaze, Julian abruptly stood up, walked to the door, grabbed his coat from the rack, and shrugged it on. The swing of his coat seemed to carry a hint of anger. “I’m not agreeing to a divorce.”
Then he walked out of the villa, slamming the front door shut behind him.
**Two**
Julian refusing a divorce completely blindsided me. I thought, given how much we clearly despised each other, he’d jump at the chance the moment I gave him an opening. After all, he should have been the one who wanted out the most.
Later, I tried calling him, but every time, it was his assistant, Sam, who answered. The last time, Sam sounded a bit awkward as he told me: “Ms. Audrey, the boss says he’s really busy. Uh, he doesn’t have time to deal with your… antics.” After that, I completely lost interest in calling him.
After thinking it over, I could only conclude that his refusal stemmed from our families’ intertwined business dealings, and how a divorce would impact our companies’ development. Strategic alliances between influential families are always complicated, and our intertwined businesses just made it worse, especially with the messy property division that would drag on for ages. Julian was incredibly ambitious, so his refusal to divorce was, I supposed, understandable.
Even though the divorce didn’t happen, it felt like a long-locked door in my heart had finally swung open.
At a social gathering, I casually accepted an invitation to a “Party” from my girls in the circle, which immediately drew surprised glances from everyone. In our crowd, arranged marriages were common. Some couples had open marriages, just keeping up appearances, while others genuinely loved each other. But someone like me, who’d caused such a public scene over her husband’s infidelity, completely losing all composure? That was rare.
Julian and I got engaged young. We were childhood sweethearts, and there was a time when our love was so intense, we thought we’d die for each other. After finishing our studies, we married as planned, a model couple in our social circle. I never indulged in the wild parties and lavish living that many rich kids did.
But everything changed after Julian started cheating.
In the beginning, I’d stormed his company, trashed his car, and even hunted down his girlfriends. It all ended with both our families losing face, and my father personally stepped in to stop me from continuing. At first, some people tried to talk me into joining their own fun, but I always refused. Over time, everyone just gave up, though they still invited me out of habit.
No one expected me to actually say yes today.
My friends flocked around me, ushering me into a private lounge. One of my girls nudged a guy to sit next to me, winking suggestively. “Audrey, this is a new one. Want to try him out? One night with him, and you won’t even remember that Julian guy’s name.”
I raised an eyebrow, taking it all in. Everyone in the room visibly relaxed. The guy next to me, sensing my closeness, tightened his lips, his hands clenched nervously on his knees. I let out a soft laugh, resting my hand on his clenched fist, and whispered, “Nervous?”
He nodded rapidly, then quickly shook his head. “N-no, not nervous.”
After years of Julian’s composed, almost cold face, even when I was screaming at him, seeing this fresh-faced college student with such an innocent reaction was surprisingly entertaining. He probably was faking it, but who cared? After tonight, we’d be nothing to each other. What did it matter if it was real or not?
Julian kicked open the lounge door. By then, my vision was blurry from drinks, and I was leaning against the college student’s shoulder, my lips brushing his ear as I asked, “What’s your name?”
The guy’s ears were a fiery red, but he’d grown bold enough to squeeze my hand. He answered shyly, “My name is Leo.”
The room suddenly fell silent. I turned my head, and there they were: a pair of expensive suit pants, perfectly tailored, standing right in front of me. I looked up further to find Julian glaring at me, his eyes dark with fury. Then, amidst a few gasps, he yanked me off the sofa and dragged me out of the lounge.
He was seething, practically radiating anger. He pulled me into the elevator, then down to the underground parking garage. He unlocked the car door and practically shoved me into the passenger seat. My wrist, where he’d gripped it, was throbbing, and I winced slightly.
The driver’s side door opened. Julian’s long legs swung in, and he slid behind the wheel. He pulled a few tissues from a box, his face grim as he pinched my chin and started wiping my lips. The vivid lipstick stained the tissue, and his eyes darkened, his grip tightening.
It hurt so much I struggled a few times but couldn’t break free. Finally, I just slapped him across the face!
*Smack!*
The sharp sound echoed in the car. Julian’s head snapped to the side from the impact. I casually pulled my hand back. “Hurting a lady isn’t exactly polite, Julian. Is that what your family taught you?”
Suddenly, those words sounded familiar. I remembered him standing in front of me, watching me coldly, asking me ‘Where’s your upbringing?’ when I’d been confronting his mistresses. I wasn’t afraid of having slapped him, nor did I feel guilty.
Julian didn’t seem to be in the mood to argue today. He just started the car, his face a thundercloud. The car slowly pulled out of the garage.
I rested my head against the window, watching the raindrops splatter on the glass, leaving trails. I was in a surprisingly good mood. “Today, you know, I got a taste of the life you usually lead. It’s pretty interesting, actually. Young guys really do have a lot of energy. Just watching them lifts your mood…”
“Stop talking.” Julian’s voice held a warning.
I ignored him and continued, “I’m starting to understand you now. You’re right, it’s incredibly boring looking at the same face year after year. It’s only natural for people to seek something new…”
“Audrey, I said stop talking!” Julian’s voice rose.
“That young guy today was so cute, all flushed. If you’d come a little later, I might have even tried to kiss him…”
Julian slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched against the pavement. My body lunged forward with the inertia, the seatbelt almost choking me. I turned to see Julian glaring at me, his eyes bloodshot and terrifying, his chest heaving.
I couldn’t understand what he was so angry about. He was the one who said he didn’t care, the one who told me I could do whatever I wanted. Now, he was acting like he’d caught *me* cheating, his fury swelling in a way that just made me want to laugh. In fact, his angry face looked so grotesque, almost ugly, that I just turned my gaze away.
Silence fell in the car, broken only by Julian’s heavy breathing. After a moment, he opened a pack of cigarettes and pulled out a lighter. I frowned. “Go outside if you’re going to smoke. I hate the smell.”
His hand paused. He unbuckled his seatbelt, pulled open the car door, and stepped out. It was pouring rain outside. Julian didn’t come back right away, instead standing in the downpour for a good while. When he finally got back in, he was soaked to the bone, a damp, bent cigarette still clutched between his fingers, unlit. He brought a chill and wetness with him, and I shifted further away.
Julian froze, then tossed the ruined cigarette onto the center console without a word, and restarted the car.
**Three**
After that unpleasant night, Julian seemed to change his ways. He started coming home every day. The house was joint marital property, so I had no reason to refuse him. I simply let him move back in.
I had a habit of reading after dinner. One evening, I opened the study door and saw him sitting behind the desk, his eyes on the screen, fingers flying across the keyboard. Sensing his subtle gaze, I paused, then casually closed the study door and went to the home gym.
A little while later, Julian walked in again. He stood in front of my treadmill, silently watching me for a long time before finally speaking. “The printer’s out of paper. I looked in the storage, but couldn’t find any. Where is it?”
I pressed stop on the treadmill, picked up the towel from my neck, and wiped the sweat from my forehead. “If it’s not there, it’s not there. I don’t use those things, so Mrs. Davis didn’t buy any. If you need some, tell Mrs. Davis to get them now.”
He shook his head. “Never mind.” Then he looked at me with a complex expression, opening his mouth as if to speak but stopping himself. I pretended not to notice. I had no interest in interacting with him at all. I got off the treadmill and walked past him directly into the shower.
The next morning, when I woke up and went for breakfast, Julian was already sitting at the table. Mrs. Davis brought out two bowls of noodle soup. The moment he saw it, he frowned. I loved hearty, saucy breakfast dishes like this. Julian had spent a long time abroad years ago and never ate this kind of food. Since he’d been cheating, he hadn’t been home, so Mrs. Davis, being new, had no idea what his eating habits were.
Noticing Mrs. Davis’s nervous glance, I finally cleared my throat. “Mrs. Davis, he doesn’t like these. Please take them away.”
Mrs. Davis quickly moved to take Julian’s bowl, but he suddenly reached out and stopped her. “No, this is fine.” He said, picking up a handful of noodles with his fork and putting them in his mouth.
Just then, his phone on the table rang. My curious gaze fell on it, just in time to see him fumble to hang up the call.
After finishing my last bite of noodles, I pulled out a tissue and wiped my mouth. Seeing Julian still struggling to eat his bowl, I said casually, “Julian, what’s the point? Forcing yourself to adapt to a life you’re not used to… there’s no need, right?”
I didn’t need to say it; he must have already realized how out of place he was in this home. Why bother doing something so meaningless?
Julian paused, then without another word, he rolled a large portion of noodles onto his fork, shoved them into his mouth, chewed briefly, swallowed, and only then said, “I don’t feel uncomfortable.”
I snorted and returned to my room.
Less than two minutes later, Julian burst into my room, his face flushed with irritation. He was clutching my phone, demanding, “Audrey, are you still in contact with those questionable people outside?”
The screen showed an unknown number, already disconnected. I didn’t even look at him. “Julian, what the hell is wrong with you, first thing in the morning?”
A vein throbbed in Julian’s temple. He suppressed his anger and said, “What’s wrong with *me*? You tell me, why is a man calling you this early?”
I let out an exasperated “Tsk.” “Are you *sure* you want to discuss this? You know perfectly well who called *you* just now, don’t you?”
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When Mark married me, he didn’t spend a dime, and all our neighbors praised me for being such a good wife.
Little did I know, in the first year of our marriage, he was already keeping a college student mistress. The day I gave birth, he was still fooling around with the company’s receptionist.
When our daughter turned six, he told me, “Clara, we’re not a good match. Let’s get a divorce.”
I barely managed to suppress the smirk threatening to break free, and without a second’s hesitation, I agreed, “Okay.”
Six years of silent endurance were finally about to pay off.
Our family has a generations-old curse.
The more one partner sacrifices, the more the other is cursed to repay, manifold, once the marriage ends.
That’s why, when I found out about Mark’s affairs, I never made a fuss.
“Clara, Mom says you dumped her chicken broth. She slaved over it for three hours! You have no respect for your elders!” Mark burst out, just a month after he hadn’t been home, immediately launching into accusations.
I had just given birth and was still breastfeeding. I frowned, “That broth was from your last visit, Mark. It was just scraps, left in the fridge for thirty days. It was molded and stank.”
“Oh, my son, you truly married a *gem* of a wife!” Denise, my mother-in-law, wailed dramatically from the side. “I barely touched it myself! What business was it of hers to just throw it out? She has no manners!”
Mark’s face immediately hardened. “My mom is thrifty! If she wants to save it, let her save it! The fridge is big enough. What’s wrong with letting her keep it?”
I was furious. “The fridge is packed with fresh breast milk! If that broth went bad and contaminated the milk, and our daughter got sick, would you be the one taking her to the hospital?”
“If the milk goes bad, just pump more, what’s the big deal?” Mark said dismissively, not even bothering to consider how much pain I’d gone through to clear my ducts, or how much time I’d spent carefully storing all that fresh breast milk.
Denise chimed in with Mark, her voice sharp with accusation. “If our granddaughter gets sick, it’s *your* fault! What’s the point of earning barely enough to cover your coffee budget? You’re completely dependent on my son! And you graduated with a Master’s from a top-tier university? Your weekly wage is less than my niece who only finished middle school!”
My vision swam with anger.
Of course, your niece, working twelve hours a day on the production line, can earn that much.
My weekly wage is peanuts because the month after we got our marriage license, your son *punctured* the condoms, leading to an unplanned pregnancy.
I had just started a new job, still in my probation period, when I found out I was pregnant. My boss wasn’t happy, of course. They sidelined me and cut my entire year-end bonus.
He had promised me before we got married that we’d wait a few years to have kids.
When I first found out I was pregnant with our daughter, I thought he’d come with me to get an abortion.
But the next day, Robert and Denise showed up, both urging me to keep the baby, while Mark just stood by, silent.
My heart ached with frustration, but then he held my hand and said, “Clara, please, for me, for this family, let’s keep the baby, okay?”
My heart softened, and I agreed. I suggested hiring a postpartum nurse, and Robert and Denise promised me the world.
But when my due date neared, Mark started to waver.
“A stranger won’t care for the baby as well as family.”
“Why pay someone else when my mom can earn that money?”
“My mom raised me alone, and I turned out fine – two arms, two legs, perfectly healthy!”
“Clara, your salary is low now, and I’m the sole breadwinner. A postpartum nurse is expensive, and I’m under a lot of pressure. Besides, my parents have already moved in, there’s no room for anyone else…”
I was young and naive then, truly believing I would receive meticulous care.
Little did I know, when Denise found out I’d given birth to a girl, she completely abandoned me.
I lay weakly on the delivery bed, while Mark worked endless overtime. I couldn’t even get up to use the restroom in the middle of the night without help; I had to beg the nurses.
I kept telling myself Mark was working hard, and no matter how unhappy I was, I just gritted my teeth and endured.
Until one day, I went to grab groceries and saw him leaning against his car, intimately chatting with a pretty college student. The student even gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
After she left, he lit a cigarette and smugly chatted with the apartment building’s security guard.
“What do you think? Eighteen years old. Way younger than my wife.”
“My wife’s an Ivy League grad, and what good did that do her? She still pops out kids for me, mops floors, and washes dishes.”
“I’m not going home. If I go home, I’ll have to help with the kid, right? It’s so annoying…”
“You wouldn’t believe it. After giving birth, her body just swelled up, ugh. Doesn’t wear makeup, doesn’t wash her hair. She’s a total mess. Just looking at her makes me sick.”
Every word was a gut punch.
Each sentence hit me like a ton of bricks, pressing heavily on my shoulders.
He seemed to have forgotten.
The down payment for our apartment, the one we lived in, was paid using money he *borrowed* from my wedding funds. He still hadn’t paid me back.
I couldn’t take it. I stormed over to confront him, but he just saw it as losing face. Right in front of the security guard, he slapped me hard, twice, then kicked me. “You damn bitch, is that how you talk to your husband? You need to remember who supports this family! Who gives you the money you spend!”
That’s right. As soon as my maternity leave ended, the company fired me.
Now, I was just a full-time stay-at-home mom, completely dependent on my husband.
I touched my face, swollen like a balloon, and burst into uncontrollable sobs.
Only one thought consumed my mind.
Revenge.
I wanted him to experience the suffering I had endured, the pain I had felt.
I wanted him to lie helpless on a delivery bed.
I wanted him to feel the sting of betrayal.
I wanted him to lose everything, to drown in endless despair.
The next day, I called my mom. She seemed to have expected it. Her voice was calm. “You two only had a wedding reception, you never even got your marriage license. The curse’s power will be halved. If you leave him now, he’ll only get gastritis for a year and have his reputation dragged through the mud. That’s nothing compared to what you’ve suffered.”
I calmed down. She was right. I couldn’t leave him yet.
Not only would I not leave, but I had to get our marriage license.
The more he owed me, the more he messed up, the more he’d have to repay.
My ten months of pregnancy for a year of stomach issues?
No way.
I wanted to tear him apart inside, to make him writhe in agony.
For six years, he thought I couldn’t live without him, and he grew increasingly brazen.
He would hit and verbally abuse me at the slightest provocation.
Finally, when our daughter turned six, and Mark proposed divorce, the time was ripe.
I did the math.
With all the debts and wrongdoings he’d accumulated during our marriage, he definitely wouldn’t escape death.
I deliberately suggested dividing our marital assets.
As expected, he exploded, raging that I was malicious, his face purple with rage. “Have you earned a single dime for this family all these years? Let me tell you, the house is already in my mom’s name, and I don’t have a penny to my name! And I want full custody of our daughter!”
Denise also pointed her finger at me, yelling, “You pathetic hanger-on! If you hadn’t clung to my son, he wouldn’t have been soft-hearted enough to marry you! It’s *your* fault we’re divorcing, you didn’t take good care of him! And now you’re dreaming of our family’s assets? No chance!”
Seeing them so eager to dig their own graves, I felt at ease. “Fine, I don’t want anything. I’ll walk away with nothing.”
Denise was ecstatic, rushing Mark to book an appointment at the divorce office as if afraid I’d change my mind.
The divorce process was unusually smooth.
As soon as the cooling-off period was over, the official papers were in hand.
Stepping out of the divorce office, he was now my ex-husband.
My ex-husband warned me not to spread news of our divorce. He probably had an image of a happy, stable family to maintain for his clients and superiors; if they found out, it could harm his career.
Maybe he always thought I was easy to manipulate.
Submissive, only capable of crying when hit or verbally abused.
Even after divorce, he surely expected me to obey him.
“Who knows?” I curved my lips into a small smile, shedding my usual docile image. “It depends on my mood.”
He was shocked by my attitude, then his face contorted in furious embarrassment. “You damn bitch, talking to your husband like that! No wonder I divorced you!”
He was always like this, acting like a king, expecting everyone to flatter and please him.
Little did he know, my years of docility were simply a means to ensure a tenfold repayment.
My ex-husband raised his fist, intending to strike my head as he used to, to vent his fury.
But this time, he didn’t get his way.
I raised my slender arm and grabbed his wrist. “We’re right outside the divorce office, Mark. There are cameras everywhere. Touch me, and I’ll make sure you go to jail.”
His jaw twitched violently. Suddenly, a look of agony crossed his face. He gagged, then threw up.
Forgetting to lecture me, he spun around and rushed towards the restroom.
Not long after, an ambulance pulled up to the divorce office.
My ex-husband, pale as a sheet, was carried away on a stretcher.
He was always so strong, juggling two mistresses and a wife, working round the clock, yet always full of energy.
Now, he was foaming at the mouth, collapsing in the bathroom.
The curse had triggered so fast.
Under the brilliant sunshine, I finally burst out laughing.
🌟 Continue the story here
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#NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic
In my past life, my sister was adopted by a wealthy family, while I was taken in by a cleaner.
It turned out the rich family was embroiled in fierce internal power struggles. Their parents were cold, and the brother was a bully. In the end, my sister left with nothing.
My home, however, was warm and harmonious. The wealthy young master even fell for me, the poor but pure-hearted girl. Everything unfolded just like a romantic movie.
My sister, consumed by hatred, killed me, and we both returned to the day we were adopted.
This time, she threw herself into the cleaner’s arms first:
“Sister, this time, the teen movie lead is mine.”
But she didn’t know that the lead became the lead not because of her background.
My sister and I were reborn, back to the day we were to be adopted from the orphanage.
Two families stood in Director Hayes’s office: the Sterlings and the Finches.
All three members of the Sterling family were impeccably dressed.
The man wore a tailored suit, the woman was dripping with diamonds.
Their only son, Julian Sterling, wore a high school uniform, but his feet were shod in limited-edition, global-release sneakers.
This was the city’s most prominent Sterling family. Mr. Sterling was a business magnate, his enterprises contributing the largest tax revenue to the city. Mrs. Sterling was a socialite, frequently seen at jewelry auctions and charity galas, rubbing shoulders with A-list celebrities.
Their son, Julian Sterling, was known as the city’s golden boy.
In contrast, the Finch family next to them looked rough.
The man and woman’s hands were covered in the marks of manual labor. Their clothes were probably their best, but still showed unwashed sweat stains.
According to Director Hayes, both husband and wife worked at the city’s top high school; the husband was a janitor, and the wife was a cleaner.
In my previous life, my sister, Seraphina, had unhesitatingly chosen the Sterlings.
Yet, in this moment, almost as if afraid to be late, she dove into the cleaner’s embrace:
“Mom, please take me! I want to be your daughter!”
“From now on, my name is Seraphina Finch!”
Amidst my sister’s excited cries, I walked towards the Sterling family.
And so, the choices were made, and we were taken away by our respective families.
As I left the orphanage, I heard Director Hayes murmuring to herself in confusion:
“Strange, Seraphina has always been fiercely competitive, always wanting to be on top. Before, with other potential adopters, if they were plainly dressed, she wouldn’t even glance at them.”
“This time, the real wealthy family came, but why did she refuse them?”
Director Hayes didn’t understand.
But I did.
In the last life, my sister went to great lengths to be adopted by the Sterlings first, becoming Seraphina Sterling.
She believed a princess-like life awaited her.
Not to mention Julian Sterling, the city’s golden boy, becoming her brother.
After all, a wealthy young master and an adopted daughter — that was the most common pairing in romantic novels. Living under the same roof, it was easy for feelings to develop over time.
However, Seraphina never expected that Julian would not only show no hint of a gentle older brother, but on the contrary, he detested her:
“I hate opportunistic people the most in this life. Don’t think I can’t see through you, you manipulative little schemer. All you want is our family’s money, isn’t it?”
At home, Julian bullied Seraphina.
At school, he brought a group of followers and tormented her.
Even if Mr. and Mrs. Sterling knew, they would at most reprimand him half-heartedly.
They had no affection for Seraphina. They adopted her only because a fortune teller told Mr. Sterling that adopting a daughter would bring him great fortune for the next decade.
Between an adopted daughter and their biological son, the Sterlings naturally favored their son.
While Julian bullied Seraphina, he was incredibly kind to me, who had been adopted by the Finch family.
He saw me receiving scholarships, always ranking first in exams, attending school during the day, and helping my adoptive mother clean at night. I lived a tough life but never complained.
“Anya Finch, that girl, she’s really something.”
Just like in a teen drama, the rebellious rich boy fell for the resilient, poor but pure-hearted girl.
Later, when Mr. and Mrs. Sterling passed away and the inheritance was being divided, Julian, with his team of lawyers, completely outmaneuvered Seraphina, leaving her with nothing. She walked away empty-handed, without a single penny of the family fortune.
Months later, Julian married me.
He even openly declared at the wedding, “Anya Finch, from now on, what’s mine is yours.”
Unfortunately, I never got to enjoy Julian’s wealth either.
Because a few days later, Seraphina, driven to desperate madness, ran me over with her car.
Reborn into this life, my sister unhesitatingly chose the Finch family.
Though there was no immense wealth, there was also no scheming or infighting. She could enjoy her parents’ complete love and grow up in a happy family.
And because of this background, she would be pitied and protected by the rich young master, eventually getting a fairy tale wedding of the century.
She smiled at me, saying:
“Sister, this time, the romantic drama lead is mine to play.”
“And you, you should taste everything I went through.”
Seraphina’s prediction wasn’t wrong. In fact, Julian’s bullying came even earlier than in the previous life.
At school, my head was shoved into a sink, surrounded by the mocking laughter of a group of boys.
Just as I was about to run out of breath, someone grabbed my neck and pulled me up. Julian looked at me with a smirk:
“You want my family’s money? Fine.”
“Drink all the water from the toilet. Drink one gulp and I’ll give you ten thousand. How about it?”
His followers cheered, excited.
I looked at Julian.
This person, who had gently declared his love for me in the previous life, was now unrestrainedly unleashing his malice upon me.
But Julian wasn’t looking at me.
His gaze swept past me, looking behind me.
I knew Seraphina Finch was there, bending over to scrub the floor.
“Isn’t that Seraphina Finch?”
“Why is she still scrubbing the floor?”
One of his followers told Julian, “Seraphina’s mom is the school cleaner, you know. She goes to school during the day, but at night, she has to help her mom with work.”
A flicker of shock, then a hint of pity, crossed Julian’s eyes.
He called out loudly to Seraphina, “Hey! It’s so cold, stop scrubbing. Nobody’s checking anyway.”
Seraphina straightened up, her black hair cascading over her shoulders, a stubborn expression on her delicate face.
She shook her head, “I can’t.”
“If someone comes to check and finds the floor isn’t clean, Mom will have a hundred dollars deducted from her pay.”
“I know a hundred dollars is nothing to a rich kid like you, but for my family, it’s a week’s worth of groceries.”
With that, Seraphina bent down and continued scrubbing the floor.
Honestly, Seraphina’s intentions were obvious. With so much floor, she specifically chose to scrub in front of Julian.
She even deliberately let her hair down and found the right angle to present herself in the most beautiful way.
Too bad for her, Julian fell for it completely.
Sure enough, Julian walked over, gently helped Seraphina up, snatched the rag from her hand, and tossed it to his followers:
“You guys, help her scrub the rest of the floor.”
He glanced at Seraphina’s red, frozen hands, then, after a moment’s thought, draped his jacket over her shoulders:
“It’s too late. How are you getting home later?”
“I’ll bike.”
“You’re biking in this freezing weather?” Julian was shocked, then said without room for argument, “Go wait downstairs. I’ll have my driver take you home.”
Seraphina left, shielded by Julian.
As she walked away, she didn’t forget to discreetly glance back, giving a mocking smile to my disheveled self.
A moment later, everyone dispersed, leaving only me by the sink.
Struggling to get to my feet, I used my sleeve to wipe the water dripping from my hair.
“Use this.”
A cool, clear voice sounded from behind me.
I turned my head. It was Hazel, our class representative.
She was a quiet girl, very diligent in her studies, always wearing long sleeves regardless of the season.
In my previous life, she had also helped Seraphina when she was bullied.
She offered Seraphina a towel and advised her to expose Julian’s bullying.
But Seraphina slapped her hand away:
“What do you know? He’s my brother!”
At that time, Seraphina was still dreaming of making Julian fall in love with her.
So later, Hazel stopped bothering with her and continued her silent, solitary existence.
Even later, just before graduation, Hazel took her own life.
It was then we learned her family was incredibly poor. Her grandmother had been bedridden for years, and her father was a gambler who not only regularly abused her but also tried to sell her to pay off debts.
Now, she stood beside me, a clean towel in her hand.
I paused, then took it.
She said nothing more, turning to leave.
She probably felt there was nothing to say to a rich girl like me.
Just as her back was about to disappear, I suddenly spoke:
“Hazel!”
Her steps halted.
I scratched my head, “Uh, listen, I just transferred, and I don’t know my way around yet.”
“Where’s the cafeteria? Can you take me there?”
On the cafeteria table were four dishes and a soup.
Braised pork ribs, steamed minced meat with egg, Coca-Cola chicken wings, stir-fried greens, and clam and winter melon soup.
It truly was the best high school in the city; their cafeteria food was always something to be proud of.
I scratched my head again, “Ah, I accidentally ordered too much.”
“Waste is shameful, and you haven’t had dinner yet, have you? Want to eat with me?”
Hazel was silent for a moment, then finally picked up her forks and began to eat in small bites.
I looked at her wrist, peeking out from her school uniform sleeve, so thin it looked fragile.
Honestly, girls like Hazel were the ones who truly needed help.
But they weren’t pretty, they didn’t cry out in pain, so they would only become barren weeds in the memories of youth, not even qualifying to be the lead in a romantic drama.
This life, I wouldn’t just save myself; I would save her too.
My mind made up, I spoke:
“Ugh, conic sections are just so hard, I completely don’t get them.”
“Hazel, you’re so good at studying, why don’t you tutor me?”
Hazel, with a piece of braised pork rib in her mouth, looked utterly shocked, as if to say, “Are we even that close?”
I didn’t give her a chance to refuse.
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders cheerfully, “It’s decided then! I’ll pay you for tutoring!”
I gave a portion of my allowance to Hazel, calling it “pre-paid tutoring fees.”
She stared at the hundred dollar bills in the envelope, too stunned to speak.
In both my past and present lives, the Sterling family never skimped on their adopted daughter’s basic necessities, living expenses, or allowance.
But what was pocket change for Julian was enough for Hazel to buy medicine for her grandmother and pay hospital fees.
She could even rent a small apartment off-campus, away from her abusive father.
After arranging a tutoring time with Hazel for the next day, I returned home.
The luxurious villa was empty. Mr. Sterling was out on business, and Mrs. Sterling was at the beauty salon.
As for Julian, he was probably having dinner at the Finch’s house right now.
In my previous life, Julian had the driver drop me off at home, and when my adoptive parents, the Finches, saw him, they enthusiastically invited him to stay for dinner.
Then, just like a standard scene in a romantic drama, one dinner allowed the young master, who had grown up in the cold, opulent world of a wealthy family, to experience the strong family warmth of a modest home.
The simple smiles always on the Finch parents’ faces.
The cramped, rundown but lively room.
All these made Julian yearn for their life, and he grew even fonder of the pure-hearted, struggling girl from such a family.
At this moment, even though he and Seraphina were eating simple, unadorned food, they were probably both very happy.
I slowly put on my Hermès bathrobe, washed my face with Chanel cleanser, and ate a bowl of rock sugar bird’s nest soup brought by the housekeeper, a cold smile playing on my lips.
No one knew that the Finch couple, though poor, were not simple-hearted.
The couple favored sons over daughters and had originally wanted to adopt a boy.
But there were no non-disabled boys in the orphanage, so they settled for a beautiful daughter, hoping she’d attract a promising son-in-law someday.
When they saw Julian dropping their daughter off, the couple’s blood must have boiled with excitement. They immediately “captured” this potential high-flying prospect for a son-in-law and treated him lavishly.
The so-called warmth, the so-called lively atmosphere, it was all just an act.
After all, to impress a young master from a wealthy family, these were the only things they had to offer.
And in my previous life, when I told them I didn’t want to marry Julian, my adoptive mother locked me in my room, and my adoptive father beat me half to death with a table leg and a belt.
Seraphina thought this life she had entered paradise, but she didn’t know there was no true paradise in this world.
The Sterling home was a rich hell, and the Finch home was a poor hell.
And who could crawl out of hell alive, that depended on one’s own capabilities.
In the days that followed, Julian’s malice intensified.
The lunch prepared by the housekeeper, when I opened the lunchbox, was filled with thumbtacks.
My facial cleanser and toothpaste would have dead spiders squeezed into them.
My dresses in the closet were covered in cigarette burns.
And every time I was startled and looked up, I’d meet Julian’s malicious grin.
He mouthed to me: *Anya Sterling, you deserve it.*
Julian thought I would cry.
But I calmly poured out the thumbtacks, threw the spiders into the trash, and folded the damaged dresses neatly away.
Julian’s smile vanished.
He stared at me, almost gritting his teeth as he said, “Let’s see how long you can keep up this act.”
…
Fortunately, this time, although I had to endure Julian’s malice, the Sterling family’s resources were entirely at my disposal.
I no longer had to spend my days at school and my evenings helping my adoptive mother work.
Instead, a housekeeper took care of me, a driver picked me up and dropped me off, and I only needed to focus on my studies.
In my previous life, to buy extra study materials, I had to save money for a long time, and still had to worry about my adoptive father taking my money to buy alcohol and gamble.
Now, my closet was filled with designer dresses, and my jewelry box held Van Cleef & Arpels and Cartier pieces, all casually given by Mrs. Sterling, requiring no money from me.
In addition, at the beginning of each month, I received fifty thousand dollars in cash allowance and a credit card with a hundred thousand dollar limit. If I spent it all, I only needed to tell the butler, and new funds would be transferred to the card within half an hour.
And the difficult life I had experienced in the past now completely fell upon Seraphina.
I saw her sleeping through classes, utterly exhausted from helping her adoptive mother with work at night.
Gradually, she stopped doing homework and started submitting blank test papers.
In my past life, I lived on black coffee, and when I was truly exhausted, I’d prick myself with a pen to stay awake, studying with all my might.
But Seraphina had lived a life of pampering and comfort in her previous life; she lacked that drive and perseverance. Not to mention, she didn’t care about her studies.
In her view, becoming the Sterling heir’s fiancée was far more valuable than getting into any top-tier university.
So, Seraphina focused all her energy on making Julian like her more.
She didn’t listen in math class, instead secretly writing a diary meant only for Julian.
She skipped dance rehearsals, sneaking out of school to drive around and stargaze with Julian.
The result was, on the eve of the dance showcase…
She sat outside the rehearsal room, crying.
I assume Seraphina had specifically studied how romantic drama leads cry: gazing up at the sky at a forty-five-degree angle, tears welling in her eyes, stubbornly refusing to fall.
And then, Julian happened to pass by and saw her.
The moment Julian asked what was wrong, Seraphina’s long-suppressed tears finally spilled over.
She threw herself into Julian’s arms and burst into sobs:
“Julian, I lost my spot on stage.”
“All the girls in the class are performing, but Anya wouldn’t let me participate…”
Julian already hated me to the core, and hearing this, he immediately flared up:
“Why?”
Seraphina bit her lip, trying desperately to stop crying, but still couldn’t help but whimper:
“She said my mom is just a cleaner, and my dad is just a janitor.”
“She said I couldn’t even afford a costume, and didn’t deserve to be on stage.”
Julian’s face grew uglier and uglier.
He looked at Seraphina, who was gasping for breath from crying, and whispered, “It’s just a costume, isn’t it? I’ll buy it for you.”
Seraphina shook her head, radiating the righteous aura of a pure-hearted, struggling girl: “No, one costs eight hundred dollars. I can’t accept such an expensive gift from you.”
Julian was absolutely furious and heartbroken:
“How dare Anya Sterling do that?”
He blurted out in anger.
Seraphina, teary-eyed, shook her head: “She is your sister, after all, the Sterling heiress.”
“Several buildings in the school were donated by your family, and your father is an honorary school board member. Even if the teachers know she bullies, what can they do…”
Seraphina didn’t notice that at that moment, a reporter conducting interviews at the school happened to pass behind her.
Peeking his head in, the reporter, like a shark smelling blood, sensitively asked:
“Bullying? What bullying?”
Things suddenly escalated like that.
In the school’s largest conference room, a crowd of people stood silently.
The principal, vice principal, dean of students, and homeroom teacher.
Reporters from various news agencies.
Both the Sterling and Finch parents were present. Mr. and Mrs. Finch stood in a corner of the conference room, protecting a tear-streaked Seraphina, their faces filled with grievance and indignation.
Mr. and Mrs. Sterling had initially received the call and heard it was about me, and they hadn’t wanted to come.
It wasn’t until they heard that even the newly appointed Director of the Education Board had arrived that they rushed over.
The city’s top high school was a prime example for the Education Board.
Mr. Sterling and the Director of the Education Board clearly had a past acquaintance. As soon as he entered, Mr. Sterling went to the Director’s side and smoothly began:
“Such a small matter, it even disturbed Director Miller.”
“Actually, it’s just children having a spat…”
But Director Miller was very principled and completely unmoved:
“Mr. Sterling, bullying is never a small matter.”
“I know Anya Sterling is your daughter, but to me, all children are students, they are saplings. I cannot stand by and watch them grow crooked.”
With words spoken to that extent, Mr. Sterling could say no more, only offering a smile: “Yes, yes, we are also unclear what happened. Please investigate thoroughly.”
Returning to Mrs. Sterling’s side, the two exchanged a silent glance.
I understood.
If my bullying was truly confirmed, the Sterling family would immediately abandon me, their adopted daughter for whom they felt no affection, and completely cut ties with me.
If Mr. and Mrs. Sterling’s attitude was already like this, what about Julian…
He stood beside the constantly sobbing Seraphina, softly comforting her, occasionally raising his dark eyes to give me a cold glance.
Seeing that everyone had arrived, the principal spoke, asking Seraphina:
“Seraphina, please tell us what happened.”
Seraphina raised her red, tear-filled eyes and quietly repeated what she had told Julian.
The reporters were already indignant.
One person quickly said: “Our preliminary investigation shows that Anya Sterling and Seraphina Finch were once friends from the same orphanage, even calling each other sisters.”
“Later, Anya Sterling was adopted by the Sterling Group, while Seraphina Finch’s adoptive parents were just ordinary school employees.”
“Anya Sterling, just because you entered a wealthy family, does that mean you can bully your former friend and steal opportunities that originally belonged to her?”
A heavy silence fell.
All the reporters’ eyes were on me, and the red lights of the cameras flickered incessantly.
No one wanted to miss out on a sensational scoop.
After all, this was a very sensitive social issue – in an era where social strata were gradually solidifying, if children from wealthy families continued to steal educational resources that originally belonged to impoverished children, blocking their path upwards, it could provoke considerable public outrage.
Not to mention the protagonists of the news story were me and Seraphina, a dramatic contrast.
In the pin-drop silent office, I suddenly let out a small laugh, the sound surprisingly abrupt.
All the reporters exchanged confused glances.
“Esteemed reporter, I read in a book that news professionals need to cross-verify and fact-check all information they receive.”
“Why? Are you now skipping work steps just to rush out a sensational news story?”
Immediately, the reporter’s face turned beet red.
I stood up and pointed coldly at Seraphina:
“Right now, she is the only source of information. Everything is just her side of the story.”
I looked at Seraphina, whose face was pale from crying.
I did once consider you my sister.
But in the past life, you killed me out of jealousy.
In this life, you climb by framing me.
So if I destroy you, it’s your own doing.
“Since the esteemed reporter is asking me now, I’ll tell you what I know.”
“Seraphina is jealous of me. She feels that even though we both started the same, and she’s even prettier and smarter than me, why do I now live a better life than her?”
“Out of jealousy and hatred, she fabricated this story to frame me.”
At these words, Julian immediately retorted:
“But…”
He wanted to say that Seraphina had actively chosen the poor Finch family.
Therefore, she couldn’t be someone who only cared about wealth, and my explanation was clearly twisting the facts.
But before he could finish, the principal’s office door was suddenly flung open.
Standing outside was a thin figure, with short hair, silent, like an inconspicuous weed.
Our homeroom teacher recognized her: “Hazel? What are you doing here?”
In the previous life, Hazel had already taken her own life by this time.
But in this life, she was alive.
Step by step, Hazel walked in and stood beside me.
She said softly, “I’m here to testify.”
She entered so abruptly that the reporters were momentarily stunned.
Someone asked, “Student, are you here to testify that Anya Sterling bullied Seraphina Finch?”
After all, judging by her appearance, Hazel was clearly not from a wealthy family. At a glance, she seemed more like Seraphina.
Hazel looked at the person who asked the question and shook her head.
She said, “I’m here to testify *for* Anya Sterling.”
I looked at Hazel in surprise.
To be honest, I had prepared a lot for today’s confrontation.
But Hazel was not a witness I had planned for.
After all, we weren’t really that close.
The last time I gave her money, she looked up the current market rates for tutoring, calculated it based on an hour a day, and then returned all the excess money to me.
She taught me math for one hour every day, then promptly packed her bag and left, like some perfectly programmed AI robot.
In my previous life, Hazel had jumped from a building right before college entrance exams.
All her hopes were pinned on getting into a good university and earning money quickly to treat her grandmother’s illness.
But a month before the exams, her father lost money gambling, drank a few bottles of rotgut alcohol, came home, and gave Hazel the worst beating of her life.
Hazel’s right hand was broken.
It was her writing hand.
No one knew what else Hazel’s father did that day, or what else the bruised and battered Hazel endured.
When people found her again, this perpetually silent girl had already jumped from the rooftop.
In this life, even though Hazel and I hadn’t become close friends, I still wanted to save her.
So, I paid two thugs to beat Hazel’s father into the hospital.
That way, at least until the college entrance exams were over, that man wouldn’t be able to abuse her.
To meticulously plan this, I had, for the first time, missed an evening study session.
When I returned, Hazel, who was in charge of attendance records, caught me red-handed.
She asked me, “Why did you skip evening study?”
I scratched my head, desperately trying to think of an excuse.
After all, I looked perfectly healthy, no sickness or injury, so I couldn’t exactly tell her, “Skipped class to beat up your dad.”
Just then, Hazel was called out by the reception teacher: “Hazel, you have a call.”
It was news about Hazel’s father.
Five minutes later, Hazel returned, her face still bland and expressionless.
She picked up the attendance sheet again, then put it down.
“I won’t mark it this time,” she said calmly. “Don’t be absent again.”
At that time, I breathed a sigh of relief and scurried back to my seat to study.
Now, as Hazel used that same calm tone to say, “I’m here to testify for Anya Sterling.”
It was then I realized that perhaps she knew.
Facing the gazes of everyone in the room, Hazel pulled out a stack of forms and placed them on the table.
Seraphina’s face instantly turned ashen.
To enter the dance studio for rehearsal, according to school regulations, one had to fill out a form: what time the room was borrowed, who used it—everything was on the form.
But this rule wasn’t strictly enforced, and filling it out was a hassle, so later, almost no one bothered; they just notified the dance teacher and went.
No one expected that Hazel meticulously filled out the form every single time and kept all the records.
So, under everyone’s watchful eyes, they could clearly see that out of over thirty forms, Seraphina’s name appeared in the “Users of the Classroom” section on only two.
Meaning, out of more than thirty rehearsals, she had only attended twice.
Hazel saw that everyone had clearly seen the forms, and then she slowly began to speak:
“Seraphina said that Anya Sterling mocked her for not being able to afford a costume, and that’s why she wouldn’t let her on stage.”
“But when I told Anya Sterling I couldn’t afford a costume and didn’t want to participate, she told me to continue rehearsing.”
“The next day, I found out she had bought costumes for everyone.”
“Seraphina also said that Anya Sterling bullied her because her father is a janitor and her mother is a cleaner.”
“But my father doesn’t even have a proper job. My whole family relies on my grandmother’s meager pension.”
Hazel looked at me: “If you bully poor people, why didn’t you bully me?”
This kind of self-deprecating confession stunned everyone present.
In the silence, I sighed, took out my phone, and played a video on speaker.
In this video, everyone could see Seraphina missing beats, forgetting moves, and falling behind.
Among everyone, she was clearly the worst.
Well, after all, during previous rehearsals, she had been out stargazing with Julian.
Actually, Seraphina hadn’t really wanted to participate in this showcase, but seeing that I had dropped her, she went to Julian to twist the truth and play the victim, making Julian like her more and hate me more.
She hadn’t expected the matter to escalate so much, nor that I would have such complete human and material evidence.
“Originally, I shouldn’t have taken the liberty of dropping Seraphina.”
“However, this dance showcase offers special admission points, and two girls in our group are specialty students who are relying on these points for college admission.”
“If I still let Seraphina participate, it would jeopardize the future of those two girls. Therefore, I had no choice but to make this decision.”
🌟 Continue the story here
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