Category: English

Three years into our marriage, Liam became obsessed with a college student. Their love was passionate and fiery. I, meanwhile, continued to play the role of the gentle, understanding socialite wife, even thoughtfully covering for him in front of both our parents. That is, until he went to a private club to find his disobedient little girl and saw me sitting on a male model’s lap, kissing him passionately. The usually aloof, dignified man saw red and smashed the club to pieces. 1 The little canary Liam was keeping on the side hadn’t been very well-behaved lately. She actually went behind Liam’s back and snuck over to the main estate, trying to get his grandfather to acknowledge her status. The old man was furious. I played along with Liam to defuse the situation, managing to get her out of there in one piece. The young girl followed behind us, her eyes red. The moment we stepped outside the carved iron gates of the estate, she immediately reached out and grabbed Liam’s sleeve: “Liam, I’m not with you for the money!” She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. She looked so delicate and pitiable; it was no wonder Liam was completely infatuated with her. Obviously, the attitude of his grandfather and parents made her realize how massive the gap was between her and the Thorne family, which was why she was so desperate to explain herself the second she got out. Liam frowned slightly, but ultimately couldn’t bring himself to scold her. He reached out and ruffled her hair, his tone a mix of helplessness and indulgence: “Alright, stop crying. I know.” With that, he looked at me, standing off to the side, looking a bit awkward: “She’s probably scared from what just happened. I’ll take her home first. You…” I had come here in his car, so if he was taking his new flame home, I naturally couldn’t go with them. But if I asked the estate driver to take me, the old man would definitely find out. I gave him a slight smile and proactively offered, “I’ll just call an Uber.” Liam was clearly very satisfied with my understanding nature. He nodded, wrapped an arm around the girl, and walked away without looking back. He didn’t even remember that the area around the main estate was some of the most expensive real estate in the city, exclusively residential. You couldn’t even get an Uber around here. 2 Liam didn’t come home until the following evening. He still had a few faded hickeys on his neck. They were intentionally placed right where his collar couldn’t hide them, like a bold declaration of ownership. Such childish little tricks; only a naive girl without an ounce of subtlety would do something like that. I lowered my eyes, pretending not to notice, and smiled as I took the coat he had just taken off, playing the role of the virtuous, perfect wife to the hilt. I even magnanimously showed concern for his mistress: “How is she?” He tugged at his collar, his tone light: “Just throwing a childish tantrum. A little coaxing and she was fine.” Seems like she was coaxed back to her senses. I hesitated for a moment, but finally decided to tell him what I had been considering for a long time: “Have you ever thought about giving her a proper title?” Liam’s tall frame froze in place. It took him a few seconds to process what I said. He asked, confused, “What do you mean?” “What I mean is, Liam, let’s get a divorce.” I was tired of playing the good wife. I didn’t want to do it anymore. 3 Clearly, Liam had never expected me to bring up divorce. He pinched the bridge of his nose, that handsome face I had swooned over for years now filled with irritation: “Chloe, you should know very well that divorce isn’t that simple for us.” I could hear that he was trying to suppress his frustration, keeping his voice as level as possible. In the past, this attitude meant he didn’t want to continue the conversation, and I should drop it. But this time, I was dead set on getting a divorce. My marriage to Liam was a corporate alliance. A divorce wasn’t just about the two of us; it involved both of our families. Getting a divorce really wouldn’t be easy. I bit my lower lip and continued, “It might be a little complicated, but…” “Enough!” He violently cut me off, reaching out and pulling me into his arms: “I know I’ve neglected you lately, and I’ll make it up to you, but don’t ever mention divorce again.” “Chloe, it feels like it’s been a long time since we…” With that, he lowered his head, his slightly parted lips moving closer to mine. I quickly slapped my hand over his mouth, making up an excuse: “It’s my time of the month! It’s not a good time!” Screw that! Who wants your sloppy seconds! Disgusting! 4 Since the divorce talk fell apart, I quickly packed my bags and moved out of the house. Liam, thinking I was just throwing a jealous fit, called me constantly. When I didn’t answer, he bombarded me with texts. Honestly, I was just worried he’d try to sleep with me again. As for jealousy… I’ll admit, when we first got married, any rumor about him made me physically ill. But as time went on, I slowly got used to it. My deep love for him was worn away by his constant betrayals. Still, I didn’t mind letting him misunderstand. I could use this opportunity to max out his credit cards, considering it my compensation for his infidelity. 5 A week after running away from home. My best friend, Sarah, and I walked into the most exclusive, high-end private club in the city. Naturally, Liam was footing the bill. As soon as we walked in, we ran into the little canary, wearing a server’s uniform and carrying a fruit platter: “You…” Never mind, I couldn’t even remember her name. I cleared my throat and asked, “What are you doing here?” The little canary pressed her lips together tightly, glaring at me with those pretty, big eyes, looking absolutely furious. Sarah hooked her arm through mine, looking her up and down: “Is this the little toy Liam keeps on the side?” “What, is Liam not giving her an allowance? Why is she working here?” The tray in the little canary’s hands trembled slightly. She looked like a cat with its back arched: “Liam and I are together because we love each other! It’s not for his money!” She directed her anger at me, continuing her outburst: “Liam says he only loves me! He’s only with you for the family business!” I waved my hand dismissively. “Got it, got it. Well, I wish you both happiness.” 6 I ignored her and led Sarah into our private room. Sarah laughed until she was breathless: “Where did Liam find this precious gem? Actually talking about ‘love’ with a married man in Liam’s social class.” “Does she actually think she can successfully replace you like that? She’d be better off taking whatever money she can get while she’s still young.” I smirked. “That’s why she’s young.” In old-money families like ours, legacy is more important than wealth. That’s why marriage is taken so seriously. If a marriage partner needs to have exceptional qualifications and a very high social standing, then it has to be a corporate alliance. Liam wasn’t stupid enough to give up everything he had for her, which is why he wouldn’t agree to the divorce. Sarah continued, “I heard that girl has been throwing tantrums with Liam the last couple of days.” “Apparently, because you moved out, you took up a lot of Liam’s attention, and the little girl wasn’t happy about it.” Our social circle is small; if someone wants to find something out, they will. I rolled my eyes at her. “You’re such a gossip.” 7 I have to say, spending my cheating husband’s money to hire male models is incredibly satisfying. Especially when the models are gorgeous, sweet-talking, and have amazing bodies. It would have been even better if my husband hadn’t caught me. When Liam kicked the door open, I was straddling a male model I had been seeing for the last couple of days, my arms wrapped around his neck, passionately kissing his face. I had on heavy, glamorous makeup, big, sexy waves, and a tight outfit that showed off my figure. Hearing the noise, I instinctively looked toward the door. Before the sultry look in my eyes could fade, I saw Liam’s face, dark as a thundercloud. I gave the male model one last peck on the lips before slowly climbing off him. Liam’s face was black as pitch, and he glared at the male model with a murderous intensity, looking like he wanted to hack him to pieces. I smoothed my hair, breaking the silence first: “Why are you here?” He ground his teeth, speaking in a low, slow drawl: “Chloe, how dare you?” “Why wouldn’t I dare? You play your games, I play mine.” The more I spoke, the guiltier I felt. “Let’s be fair, you have a mistress, and I never threw a fit about it.” I wasn’t guilty about being caught with a male model; I was just guilty because I was cheating on him using his money. 8 “Mr. Thorne, why are you over here? I was looking for you in the VIP lounge.” “I brought Mia here for you. I’m so sorry, I had no idea she was your girl.” I leaned sideways to look out the door. A chubby man was walking over, leading the little canary. Oh, so her name is Mia. Liam stood rooted to the spot, not even glancing in their direction. Mia, on the other hand, threw herself into his arms like a baby bird returning to the nest, crying: “Hubby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum, and I definitely shouldn’t have snuck out to work without telling you.” Me: “…” After her dramatic entrance, she followed Liam’s gaze and saw me. She pouted, shrinking back into Liam’s embrace, and acted like a spoiled child, whispering again, “Hubby.” A mistress calling my husband “hubby” right in front of me, the legal wife. That’s basically an open declaration of war, right? I didn’t really care. It was just a little nauseating. But I felt bad for the chubby man who had just walked up. Even though I didn’t know him, he seemed to recognize me. He looked at me, then at the clearly ravished male model next to me, then at the furious Liam and the little mistress in his arms. In just one minute, his facial expressions went through a dozen different changes. In families with corporate alliances, it’s normal for spouses to have their own side pieces. As long as they aren’t too blatant about it, they’ll usually turn a blind eye to maintain the facade for the sake of the business. A direct, face-to-face confrontation like ours was extremely rare. 9 Liam patted Mia’s back, suppressing his temper to coax her: “Be good, let the driver take you home first. I have some business to handle here.” Mia softly replied with an “Oh,” and slowly pulled away from Liam’s embrace. She looked me up and down, then casually remarked, “Are you talking about Miss Bennett’s business?” “When I first started working here a few days ago, I ran into Miss Bennett and her friend. I heard they hired the five most expensive guys.” “I was afraid you guys would fight, so I didn’t dare tell you.” I clicked my tongue. The little girl wasn’t as innocent as she looked. Liam’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He shifted his gaze to Mia, his eyes filled with the impatient fury he was trying to suppress: “I told you to go home. Did you not understand me?” Probably never having been spoken to like that by him before, Mia pouted and glared at him, tears welling in her eyes, acting like she was upset and waiting for him to coax her. However, Liam wasn’t in the mood to play her childish little games right now. For the first time, he lost his temper with his precious canary: “Get lost!” 10 Mia ran away crying. Liam stormed over to the couch I had just been sitting on with the male model and threw himself onto it: “Manager Chen, please bring… all the guys my wife ordered.” He ground his teeth, ultimately unable to say the words ‘male models’. The man addressed as Manager Chen wiped the sweat from his brow, bowing and nodding in agreement. As soon as he left, Liam smashed a crystal glass on the table: “Chloe, you’ve really outdone yourself!” He took off his suit jacket and threw it at me, the large garment covering my head. I could faintly smell the perfume Mia had left on it. I pulled it down, intending to throw it back at him. But he frowned, scanning me up and down before his gaze settled on my long, bare legs exposed by my miniskirt: “Put it on!” “And don’t you ever leave the house dressed like this again!” 11 He sure is bossy! I never noticed he was this possessive before. I calmly folded the jacket and looked him straight in the eye: “Liam, let’s just get a divorce. I’m truly sick of this.” Liam, who had been holding back this whole time, completely exploded after I said that. His eyes bloodshot, he kicked the table in front of him: “Haven’t I told you never to mention that word again?” I sighed, trying to communicate with him calmly: “You don’t even love me, why are you forcing this? This way, all three of us are miserable.” Liam froze for a moment, pointing at the male model who had been standing quietly to the side, his voice hoarse as if it had been scrubbed with sandpaper: “Miserable? You seem pretty happy messing around with this cheap trash!” The male model raised an eyebrow and shot back, “You tell me if she was happy. Just think about how happy you are when you’re messing around with your own cheap trash.” I silently gave him a thumbs-up. What a hero. 12 By the time Manager Chen brought in a line of male models, Liam had already smashed the private room to pieces. The flesh on the fat man’s face jiggled as he cautiously glanced at the hero standing in the ruins: “Mr. Thorne, what is…” Liam threw his cigarette on the floor, crushed it with his foot, and said flatly, “Calculate the damages and send the bill to our finance department.” With that, a cold sneer played on his lips as he surveyed the dozen or so handsome male models: “I didn’t realize you had such a big appetite.” “My fault, I guess I didn’t satisfy you!” I glared at him angrily: “Liam, are you sick? You’re humiliating them!” As soon as I yelled that, the sound of loud, sharp slaps echoed behind me. Liam’s sneer deepened: “Looks like they’re perfectly happy being humiliated by me.” I turned around stiffly. The guys Manager Chen brought in were slapping each other, but the hero who had talked back to Liam was still standing to the side, looking defiant. Truly the one I was most satisfied with so far. 13 Liam had no interest in watching them perform. He grabbed my arm, trying to drag me away, but was stopped by the hero who had been watching the spectacle. Liam narrowed his eyes: “Know your place. You’re just a cheap toy for people’s amusement. Get out of my way!” I frowned, annoyed: “Liam, do you have to be so nasty?” Liam, surprised that I was defending someone else, tightened his grip: “You’d better shut up and come home with me right now.” “Otherwise, I can’t guarantee what I might do!” The hero’s handsome face also darkened, looking like a storm was brewing. I was afraid they were going to start a fight, so I quickly shook my head at him. After all, I was still Liam’s legal wife, and given Liam’s social standing, dealing with a simple male model would be child’s play. I didn’t want to cause him any trouble. 14 Outside the club, Liam hailed a cab, shoved me into the backseat, and got in right behind me. The ride was silent. When we got home, he immediately locked the bedroom door, then pulled out his phone and made a call to someone: “Bring some guys and smash ‘The Oasis’ for me.” “And there’s a guy in there named…” He looked at me, and I quickly shook my head. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t tell him, I genuinely didn’t know his name. I was just there to spend money, why would I care what his name was? “Go find Manager Chen, he knows who it is. After you smash the place, find that kid and break his hands.” 15 Liam has a bad temper; I knew that. But he usually has incredible self-control, so I rarely saw him enraged. I certainly never expected him to be so ruthless. “He’s innocent, Liam, you can’t do this!” He leaned forward, pinning me down, his beautiful eyes filled with jagged, bloodshot veins: “He dared to set his sights on you, so he’s not innocent.” “Chloe, be good. Don’t let me hear you beg for him again.” “Otherwise, it might not just be his hands next time.” In the end, I had implicated an innocent person.

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My brother was the internet’s favorite punching bag, thoroughly blacklisted and desperate for any kind of traffic. To salvage his career, he dragged me onto a family reality show. Around others, he walked on eggshells, so terrified of the haters that he’d probably apologize to a stray dog if he bumped into it. But around the trolls? I chose violence. My brother: “Chloe, keep a low profile, I’m begging you.” The fans: “So satisfying, keep dragging them! We love to see it!” 01 I had just gotten back to the States from studying abroad when my brother accepted a gig on a family-oriented reality show. He invited our mom. She took a sip of her tea and said coldly, “I’m not going. It’s too embarrassing.” He invited our dad. Dad didn’t even look up from his mountain of paperwork. “For fifty million dollars a day, I’ll consider it.” My brother: “…” Left with no options, he turned his pleading eyes to me. I waved my hand dismissively. “It’s just a reality show. Your big sister will go with you.” Our mom looked at me with an expression that screamed you have no idea what you’re in for. My brother was so moved he practically sobbed, pulling me into a massive hug. “Chloe, you are the absolute best. I’m so grateful for you.” I patted his head affectionately. “Look at you, Hayes. You’re a big star now. Having a brother like you is my pride and joy.” Hayes flushed with embarrassment. “Um, Chloe… could you maybe check the internet first?” I had rushed back home so quickly that I wasn’t caught up on domestic entertainment news. Smiling, I opened up X. And my smile instantly froze. In a twisted sense of the word, he was indeed “popular.” Ever since he debuted two years ago, his name had been synonymous with mass cyberbullying. His singing and dancing were painfully average, yet he somehow secured a top debut spot on a massive idol survival show. The internet accused him of crying his way to the top and turned his dance practice videos into “senior citizen physical therapy” memes. In that moment, I deeply regretted saying, “You are my pride and joy.” And very soon, my brother would deeply regret saying, “I’m so grateful for you.” 02 The show, Dearest Family, was filmed at a luxury resort. It was a seven-day, 24/7 continuous livestream format. Drones followed us the second we stepped foot on the mountain path. When Hayes and I arrived at the base of the hill, another pair of guests was already waiting. The guy looked about twenty-five, tall with a slight tan, accompanied by a girl in casual activewear who looked visibly annoyed. They were whispering to each other, but the girl’s sour expression spoke volumes. When she saw us, she tilted her chin up and scoffed loudly. Hayes leaned in and whispered in my ear, “That’s Connor Vance. During the survival show two years ago, he ranked twelfth and got eliminated. The whole internet says I stole his spot in the final lineup.” I instantly understood. The producers were staging a bloodbath for ratings. As we walked over, Connor lowered his eyes, looking perfectly meek and subservient as he greeted us. Hayes, practically traumatized by the internet’s hatred, was walking on thin ice. He extended his hand, his smile bordering on desperate people-pleasing. Even so, the livestream chat was already tearing him apart: “Connor is so sweet. I can’t believe he has to film with the guy who stole his dream.” “Seeing Hayes’s fake, pretentious face makes me sick.” “Connor is too nice for initiating the greeting. Hayes has zero social awareness.” “Take away his pretty face, and what does Hayes even have against Connor?!” I stood there, completely deadpan, watching Connor flash a painfully “friendly” smile. “You must be Hayes’s sister,” Connor said. “I’m Connor, and this is my sister, Hailey. She won the National Youth Dance Championship last year.” Right on cue, Hailey smugly raised her chin, looking me up and down with sheer disdain. “Wow, I didn’t even know Hayes had a sister.” Connor quickly jumped in, playing the peacemaker. “Hayes doesn’t like bringing up his family in public. It’s totally normal you didn’t know.” Hailey scoffed again. “Makes sense. For someone who only debuted because of his face, his family probably isn’t much to brag about anyway.” 03 The Vance siblings came out swinging. Whether the producers had scripted this or not, the live chat was eating it up. “True, I tried looking up Hayes’s background online and found nothing.” “Some influencers analyzed it and said his family is probably poor, which is why he had to sell a sob story to debut.” My brow furrowed slightly. Seeing my reaction, Hayes secretly squeezed my hand. “Chloe, please bear with it. The fans are terrifying.” While we waited for the rest of the cast to arrive, Connor and Hailey fired off like a synchronized machine gun. “The Youth Dance Championship—do you even know what that is? Oh, sorry, I forgot you probably don’t study dance. Of course you wouldn’t know.” “A national title is just okay, I guess. My real goal is to take home an international trophy within five years.” The chat flooded with praise: “Connor’s family is elite. His sister is so talented!” “A dance champion! What a massive slap in the face to a certain someone who debuted with zero talent.” “His sister isn’t even defending him. Looks like that whole family is just empty heads and pretty faces.” The more Hailey talked, the more arrogant she got. Suddenly, I turned to Hayes. “Go grab me a water.” Hayes nodded obediently and scurried off to find a PA. The second he was out of earshot, I turned my deadpan gaze to Connor. “Connor, was it? Your sister is a dance champion. What about you? What titles do you hold? What honors have you won?” I pulled out my phone, opening a search engine right in front of him. “I just looked you up. The only thing attached to your name is ’12th place on a reality show.’ For someone who loves to show off this much, if you had a single other achievement, your PR team would have bought billboards for it by now.” Connor: “…” I smoothly pivoted to Hailey. “National dance champion? Which competition? Which circuit? What scale? Last I checked, there are over two dozen youth dance competitions in the States every year, and about fifteen of them hold less weight than your brother’s 12th place finish.” Hailey: “…” 04 Their faces went from flushed red to a sickly pale green. It was glorious. I casually looked away. Sigh. I should probably hold back a little. Don’t want to bully the kids too hard. I was ready to call a truce, but they weren’t. Hailey glared at me, refusing to back down. “That’s because my brother is humble! Everyone knows Connor carried Hayes on America’s Next Idol!” “Oh,” I replied flatly. She choked on her anger, taking a deep breath. “The title I won last year was for Dance Dynasty. That’s infinitely better than whatever you two losers have going on.” I actually remembered Dance Dynasty. My nine-year-old niece won it three years in a row. She actually declined their invitation last year because she thought the judging format was garbage. Listening to Hailey’s arrogant bragging, I frowned. A drone hovered above us, and a producer was standing just out of frame. I walked right up to him, pointing at Hailey. “She’s launching personal attacks. Is the production team not going to step in?” The producer made a hand gesture. “This is a live, unfiltered broadcast. The directing team does not interfere during recording.” I feigned a look of sudden realization. “So, no rules against cursing people out either?” “We are instructed to remain hands-off.” “Understood.” It was a simple, clarifying conversation, but the live chat lost its collective mind. “What is she doing? Tattling? Is she in kindergarten? So gross!” “Just like Hayes! Utterly pathetic.” “Hailey might be cocky, but at least she has the talent to back it up. Can this woman do anything besides cry to the producers?” “The show obviously wants drama. Snitching makes her look like a clown.” “Hailey is just being blunt and honest. Chloe is pulling sneaky, underhanded stunts.” 05 By the time I walked back, the last two pairs of guests had arrived. Hailey was currently giving an incredibly animated recount of her Dance Dynasty performance from last year. I listened for a moment before speaking up. “Dance Dynasty, huh? Sounds familiar.” Everyone subconsciously looked at me. Hailey’s smile stiffened, but she couldn’t hide her smugness. “Pretty impressive, right?” I smiled back. “They invited me, but I didn’t go.” “Why?” “Because I was overseas at the Global Apex Dance Championship.” I had completely hijacked her narrative. Her eyes went wide with disbelief. “What place did you get?!” Anyone in the industry knew the Apex Championship was the undisputed, most prestigious dance competition on the planet. The live chat erupted: “She’s totally bluffing. Does she even know the prestige of Apex?” “Only the absolute elite compete there. If she’s that good, why does Hayes suck so much?” I slowly lifted my gaze, meeting the expectant stares of everyone in the group. Deadpan, I replied, “Oh. I was a judge.” Hailey: “…” The silence hung in the air for a brutal ten seconds. Finally, Hailey’s voice cracked an octave. “You’re lying! You’re barely in your twenties. That’s impossible!” I tilted my head. “The Apex Championship is split into twelve regional divisions. I was just a judge for one of the regionals, not the grand finale.” I paused, my eyes drifting over to a shell-shocked Connor. I let out a soft chuckle. “Twelve divisions. So funny. It matches your rank exactly.” Connor: “…” Hailey was practically stomping her feet. “Impossible! You’re definitely making this up.” I looked at her like she was an idiot. “The judges’ roster is public record online. Oh, and right—my name is Chloe Sterling.” 06 At first, the audience reacted exactly like Hailey. A unified wall of denial, aggressively accusing me of being a pathological liar. Until someone posted a screenshot of the official Apex Championship judges’ roster. There it was. Under the Sixth Regional Division, right in the middle of a list of foreign veterans with impossibly long names, the crisp, simple name “Chloe Sterling” stood out like a beacon. “Holy sh*t. She’s actually a judge.” “My god. Just qualifying to compete there is insane. To be on the judging panel… how good is she?!” “Okay, she’s amazing, but Hayes still sucks, right? The fact that he stole Connor’s spot doesn’t change just because his sister is a prodigy.” “Exactly! Don’t lose focus! Chloe might be a god, but Hayes still belongs in the trash.” “Am I the only one who thinks Chloe is kind of savage? LMAO look at Connor’s face, he looks like he’s going to throw up.” The tension was broken when Hayes came jogging back, happily clutching a bottle of water. I took it naturally and twisted the cap off. “What took so long?” “The crew was short-handed with the set dressing, so I helped out a bit.” “Oh. Well, everyone’s here. Let’s head up.” Hayes finally looked around, flashing a polite, sunny smile at the new arrivals. Then, he shuffled closer to me, lowering his voice. “Chloe, is it just me, or is the vibe super weird? What did you guys talk about while I was gone?” Connor and Hailey’s venomous glares instantly burned into the side of my head. I remained perfectly unfazed, tilting my head innocently. “Huh? Weird vibe? Not at all. We’re getting along fabulously.” 07 The four pairs of guests—eight people in total—arrived at the resort right around noon. The estate was massive, featuring a luxury hotel up front and sprawling orchards and farms in the back. True to form, the production crew abandoned us the second we dropped our bags. We were entirely responsible for our own survival. According to the rules of the previous season, this was the moment where the cast divided up the chores. Connor stepped into the center of the room, wearing a warm, perfectly manufactured smile. “Hailey and I will take care of the cooking. Lexi, how about you and your mom hit the farm and harvest some vegetables? Marcus, would it be too much trouble for you and your girlfriend to wash the produce and prep the rice?” Everyone had just hiked up a mountain. They were exhausted, sprawled across the living room furniture, completely drained. Lexi, a young up-and-coming pop singer, was terrified of being branded “lazy” by the internet. She forced a pained smile. “Sure.” Marcus, a veteran actor who knew exactly how reality TV editing worked, didn’t argue either. Finally, Connor’s gaze landed on Hayes and me. I was curled up deep in the sofa. As the camera panned over, everyone in the room—and the thousands watching online—clearly heard my phone blast an enthusiastic digital voice: “Three of a kind! Read ’em and weep!” “…” Hayes was sitting bolt upright next to me, looking like a nervous middle-schooler on his first day of class. Seeing Connor stare at us, he anxiously tugged my sleeve. “Chloe. Time to work.” I was currently annihilating my opponents in Texas Hold’em. I ignored him. Hayes awkwardly stood up and asked Connor, “Is there anything we can help with?” Connor’s expression softened slightly, thinking he had won. “Would you guys mind taking care of the dishes after lunch?” “All in!” I happily tapped my screen. Without looking up, I said, “Yes, we would mind.” Connor’s brow furrowed. “Lunch is only meaningful if it’s a collaborative group effort.” “Are you out of your mind?” I shifted my weight, starting a new hand. “We eat to stay alive. You’re only standing there acting like the boss because the cameras are rolling and everyone here is too polite to tell you off. Try assigning chores like that in your own house and see if your mom doesn’t slap you across the face.” “…” 08 Connor was visibly suppressing a vein popping in his forehead. “It’s just washing the dishes. You won’t even do something that simple?” I shrugged. “If it’s so simple, you and your sister can do it.” Connor finally snapped. “Everyone else is contributing. Does your conscience really not bother you, sitting there playing games while we work?” “Weren’t you the one handing out the assignments from the jump?” I finally looked up, my expression the picture of innocence. “You’re exploiting their good manners. Don’t try to morally kidnap me, sweetheart. I don’t have any morals to kidnap.” “…” Seeing her brother getting publicly humiliated, Hailey stormed over. “Chloe Sterling! I don’t care if you’re a world-class judge, you don’t get to act like a diva here! You’re contributing nothing! Do you expect us to cook and serve it to you on a silver platter?” Hayes tried to intervene, but hearing Hailey insult me made his protective instincts flare. “My sister isn’t like that!” he argued quietly. The live chat was a warzone: “Chloe’s attitude is absolute trash.” “Is she seriously waiting for them to feed her?” “The Sterling siblings are both leeches. Yuck!” Connor took a deep breath, playing the exhausted martyr. “I’m not obligated to cook for you. Since you refuse to help, you two can figure out your own lunch.” “Figure it out on our own?!” Hayes panicked, looking at me with puppy-dog eyes. “Chloe, I didn’t even know you knew how to turn on a stove!” I stared at him. “Do you know how to wash dishes?” Before he could answer, I rolled my eyes. “You don’t even know how to wash your own socks.” Hayes: “…” Having delivered his ultimatum, Connor led the rest of the cast out to work. I nestled back into the couch and booted up another round of poker. Fifteen minutes later, Lexi returned with a basket, looking miserable. “There are chickens and fish out back, but my mom and I have no idea how to catch them.” Connor glanced at the pathetic pile of greens in her basket and offered a comforting smile. “It’s fine. A vegetarian meal is healthy.” He said that, but when a completely meatless, severely lacking spread of vegetables was finally placed on the dining table, everyone sat there awkwardly, unsure of how to pretend they were excited. Despite the depressing meal, Hailey couldn’t resist a victory lap. “Time to eat! My brother’s cooking is incredible, you guys have to try this.” She cast a pointed, mocking glance toward the living room where Hayes and I were sitting. “Looks like some people are going hungry today. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. I don’t feel sorry for them.” The second the words left her mouth, a booming voice echoed from the front lobby. “Delivery for Chloe Sterling?!” I kicked Hayes’s shin. “Go get it.” He looked bewildered. “Who is it, Chloe?” I was currently calculating pot odds, not looking up. “Oh. Uber Eats.” “…” 09 The dining table was massive, which only made the few plates of sad vegetables look even more pathetic. Hayes and I began unpacking the delivery, and within seconds, we had completely covered our half of the table. Crispy fried chicken, gourmet burgers, loaded spicy bowls, and a mountain of fries. The moment the lids came off, an overpowering, mouth-watering aroma hijacked the entire room. Hailey stared at us, her eyes practically bugging out of her head. “You… you can’t order delivery!” I happily bit into a piece of perfectly fried chicken. “Is there a rule that says I can’t?” Hailey choked. “No one has ever ordered takeout on a reality survival show!” I took a massive sip of my Coke and looked at Hayes. “Is that true?” He took a very polite, reserved bite of his spicy bowl. “Yeah, Chloe. Never.” “Well, whatever. The crew didn’t stop the driver.” Right then, I heard a very distinct, very loud gulp. It was Lexi. There was absolutely no way the two of us could finish this feast. I waved my hand at the others. “Come on over, there’s plenty!” Lexi looked like she might cry from gratitude. “Can we really?” “Of course you can.” By the end of it, even Marcus and his girlfriend had abandoned the boiled cabbage and joined our side of the table. Connor and Hailey’s faces looked like they had just swallowed live wasps. They sat in suffocating silence, glaring daggers at us. Finally, they snapped. They slammed their chopsticks down. “Chloe, you are crossing a line.” I elegantly wiped my mouth with a napkin. “What did I do?” Hailey pointed a trembling finger at the still-massive pile of food. “You ordered way more than you needed! You’re just trying to buy everyone off and isolate us!” I was genuinely speechless at the sheer audacity. I gave her a thumbs up. “Usually, when assholes talk sh*t, it’s just for laughs. But you? You’ve elevated it to an art form.” Hearing that, Hayes nearly dropped his chopsticks, frantically reaching for my arm. “Chloe, don’t—” Unfortunately for him, he forgot one crucial detail about me. When I’m full, I have way too much energy. And when I have too much energy, I like to start fires. 10 Hailey’s eyes instantly welled up with angry tears. Connor rushed to his sister’s defense, his “nice guy” mask slipping. “Chloe, she was just trying to be considerate. She didn’t want to see everyone’s hard work go to waste. You ordered an absurd amount of food for two people. It’s perfectly normal for Hailey to question your motives.” I couldn’t even be bothered to fully open my eyes. “Mind your own business. I spent my own money. What right do you have to police my bank account?” Hearing me indirectly call him a meddling dog, Connor’s perfectly manicured composure shattered. “I was just trying to reason with you! Why do you keep insulting us?” I let out an “Oh,” and looked him dead in the eye, perfectly serious. “Not only will I insult you to your face, but if you’re ever having trouble hearing me, I’ll happily carve it right into your tombstone.” “…” Connor and Hailey stormed off, absolutely seething. Hayes looked like he was preparing for the apocalypse. “We’re dead. Chloe, the audience is definitely calling for our heads right now.” Since I was full and had nothing better to do, I pulled out my phone and opened the livestream. He was right. A massive chunk of the chat was screaming for our blood. “Chloe is so arrogant! Connor was just trying to be a good team player!” “She does zero work and has the audacity to roast people. Where did the producers even find her?” “Get Hayes and Chloe off my screen. They are insufferable.” But surprisingly, a counter-wave was fighting back. “Honestly, she’s not wrong. The show literally didn’t ban delivery.” “Yeah, our poor Lexi was exhausted and still forced to go pick vegetables. It was hard to watch.” “Marcus is a total carnivore. Forcing him to eat plain lettuce is a crime against humanity.” “Am I the only one who thinks Chloe is kind of a badass LMAO. I think I’m falling in love.” I watched the scrolling text for two seconds, then leaned over and whispered to Hayes. “Did you actually steal Connor’s debut spot? Did Dad pull strings for you?” Hayes looked horrified. “No! I snuck off to do the show behind Dad’s back. I would never dare ask him to rig it.” “Then how did you…” “I honestly have no idea! During the initial evaluations, I was graded a ‘D’. Then the second ranking hit and suddenly I had hundreds of thousands of votes. They confiscated our phones, so I didn’t even know who was voting for me. I was completely clueless when they announced I was second.” 11 That afternoon, Connor loudly rallied the rest of the cast to go explore the resort grounds. Noticeably, he didn’t invite Hayes and me. We were currently huddled on the couch, scrolling through the voting analytics and comment sections from his time in the survival show’s boot camp. Connor and Hailey shot us looks of supreme pity before they left, treating us like absolute idiots. I knew exactly what they were thinking. Going out meant the drones and the main crew would follow them, guaranteeing maximum screen time and traffic. By staying in the hotel, we were actively sabotaging our own relevance. Connor practically strutted out the door. At 2:00 PM, after we had finished combing through the data, I shot Hayes a look. Hayes hesitated. “Chloe, is this really a good idea…?” “Hurry up. Stop stalling.” He took a deep breath and opened an app on his phone. At the exact same moment, I turned to the single, stationary camera left in the living room. “Hayes and I are going live on IG right now. Room 645183. Come through if you’re interested.” Live chat: ??? Three seconds later, a tidal wave of viewers crashed into the livestream. Hayes and I were comfortably lounging on the couch, cracking sunflower seeds. I watched the chaotic blur of the chat and smiled. “Slow down, ask one at a time. No need to rush.” There were thousands of people, and the vast majority opened with immediate, aggressive insults. I casually multi-tasked, banning accounts with one hand while addressing them with the other. “Your mouth is pretty filthy. Did you forget to wipe after you talked out of your ass?” Once I had thoroughly terrified the chat into a semblance of order, I started picking questions. Chat: “How do you justify your brother stealing Connor’s debut spot?” I countered with a question of my own. “If you beat the guy in second place, what place are you in?” Chat: “First.” I nodded. “Exactly. Connor ranked twelfth. Why aren’t you going after him for being completely useless and failing to beat the guy in eleventh place? What does his failure have to do with my brother?” Chat: “…Wait, that kind of makes sense?” Chat: “But Hayes can’t even sing or dance! He didn’t deserve to debut. If they kicked him out, Connor would have made the cut!” Their questions were sharp, and Hayes looked at me like a kicked puppy. I shifted my weight, a mocking smile playing on my lips. “Are you guys all Connor’s diehard fans?” Chat: “No, we’re just casual viewers! We just hate seeing injustice.” I laughed out loud. “So, casual viewers are allowed to hate my brother, but casual viewers aren’t allowed to like him? If random people can passionately defend Connor, why couldn’t random people passionately vote for Hayes to debut?” A few commenters panicked. “Hayes has no talent! What would casual viewers even like about him?” “His face,” I stated, completely deadpan. “If Connor’s aggressively average, tragically rushed face can somehow attract fans, why wouldn’t people vote for someone as gorgeous as my brother? Since when is being hot a crime?” Chat: “…Okay, fair point.” Because, objectively speaking, Hayes’s face was a lethal weapon.

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1 The thought of a second marriage shattered for good that night. The man who once pulled me from the depths of despair was now screaming at me, eyes blazing red. The acrid smell of the air freshener stung my eyes, my throat constricted, unable to utter a single word. “A used-up, second-hand woman, still pretending to be innocent with me every day?” “Your ex-husband sold two thousand of your five-dollar intimate photos!” “If you had half the passion in bed as you did in those photos, do you think I’d go looking for fun elsewhere?” He finally snapped, shoving me to the floor. The air freshener clattered, shattering into pieces. “And tonight? Did you have enough fun with that flower vendor again?!” “Last time you said you just ‘rubbed up against her’ and didn’t ‘go all the way,’ and then she got pregnant!” I pressed harder, like a madwoman, until streaks of blood seeped from his thigh. But tonight, the moment he walked in, the choking scent of flowers from his collar had assaulted my nose. Usually, when he felt guilty, he’d let me rage, let me be unreasonable, swearing repeatedly that he’d never do it again. Every day he came home, I’d drag him into the bathroom, armed with a scrubbing brush and disinfectant, furiously scrubbing the inside of his thighs. Since discovering Greg’s infidelity, I’d developed a severe scent aversion. I sat numbly on the floor, staring at this man who was both familiar and a stranger. … Before I realized the surge in my nose, drops of blood were already splattering onto the bathroom tiles. Greg’s face instantly went pale. He fumbled, wiping my face clumsily with his sleeve, his voice tinged with regret. “Darling… is it the psychosomatic symptoms again?” “I’m so sorry, I got carried away. Please don’t scare me; I’ll get your medicine right away.” He stumbled out of the bathroom, the sound of drawers being frantically pulled open and shut echoing from the living room. I pushed myself up, bracing against the cold sink, then collapsed weakly onto the sofa. On the coffee table, a vase held a bouquet of roses, already withered and black. I stared blankly at the dead flowers, lost in thought. Five years ago, I sat just like this in my ex-husband’s living room. To win back his childhood sweetheart who had returned from abroad, my ex-husband secretly took intimate photos of me. Five dollars a piece, he sold two thousand of them online. The torrent of disgusting, vulgar comments completely drowned me. Then Greg appeared, staying by my side every day as I faced the whispers and gossip. He pulled me out of the abyss, and we got married. To keep me happy, he’d bring me a bouquet of flowers every day after work. Sometimes roses, sometimes daisies. Until the day he didn’t come home all night, returning the next morning with a bouquet of lilies – flowers I was allergic to. Enduring the hives, I found explicit photos of the flower vendor on his phone. When confronted, he knelt by the bed, weeping, his eyes red-rimmed, begging for forgiveness. He claimed he’d been drunk after a work event, mistook her for me, and only hugged her in bed, never “going all the way.” I believed him. But not long after, the flower vendor showed up on our doorstep, heavily pregnant. Greg dragged her to the hospital to terminate the pregnancy. He held my trembling body, vowing he would never do it again. … “Iris, where’s the medicine? Why isn’t there anything in the drawer?” Greg’s frantic searching broke my trance. He stood in the living room, his face etched with worry. I slowly stood up, leaning against the sink, stuffing tissues into my nose. “The medicine ran out ages ago.” I looked at him, my voice eerily calm. “I haven’t seen a doctor in a long time.” Greg froze, the empty medicine box trembling in his hand. The living room fell silent, save for his heavy breathing. His eyes filled with remorse, and he quickly walked over to me. “I’m so sorry, Iris. I’ve been too busy lately.” He reached out to embrace me, his voice laced with self-reproach. “I’ll take tomorrow off. I’ll go with you for your check-ups every day from now on, okay?” The moment he finished speaking, his phone, resting on the coffee table, rang. An unsaved number flashed on the screen. Greg’s body stiffened. He glanced at me, then walked onto the balcony to answer. From the other end of the line, a woman’s tearful gasp could be heard. “Greg, someone’s causing trouble at the shop, please come help me!” Greg’s brow furrowed. He grabbed his jacket, speaking into the phone as he headed for the front door. “Just put some ice on it yourself for now. I’ll be right back as soon as I deal with this.” The sound of the door closing echoed, leaving me alone in the house. I laughed derisively, throwing the withered flowers into the trash. If her happiness took precedence over mine, then I might as well give up my position as his wife. 2 I tucked the early pregnancy test results, which I’d intended as a surprise, to the bottom of my bag. Then I pulled out my suitcase, ready to pack. But a glance at the critical condition notice on the table made me pause. My mother-in-law had severe kidney failure; the doctor said she didn’t have much time left. I thought back to these past few years, how she’d tearfully held my hand, calling me the savior of the Stone family. She swore that the Stones would only recognize me as their daughter-in-law and would cherish me like their own child. The year Greg cheated, she even beat him black and blue with her cane, declaring that even if my marriage with him ended, she would still consider me her goddaughter. My heart clenched. The next second, my phone vibrated. A message from a friend. “Iris, I finally managed to get hold of that expensive foreign miracle drug you wanted to acquire!” I sighed, and eventually picked up my car keys. I decided to see this mother-in-law bond through, hoping for a good outcome for everyone. My phone was dead, so I didn’t think much of it. Without warning, I drove directly to the private estate where my mother-in-law was convalescing. My clothes were drenched from the rain as I carefully shielded the box of life-saving medicine in my arms, pushing open the slightly ajar front door. Inside, the heating was on full blast, chasing away the chill of early winter. But the desolate scene of a gravely ill woman I’d imagined was nowhere to be found. I froze in the entryway, my mind momentarily blank. In the living room, my mother-in-law, who should have been bedridden, was glowing. She was holding a two-year-old boy wearing a birthday hat, beaming with joy. A nanny was cutting a two-tiered car-shaped cake nearby. I stood stiffly, instinctively stepping back to check the house number. I thought I had come to the wrong house, or perhaps some distant relatives had brought a child to visit. But the next second, my gaze swept past them, fixing on the family portrait in the center of the living room. Greg, my mother-in-law, Lily and the boy in her arms. Only I was missing. And this spot, whenever I had visited before, was always covered with a red cloth. My mother-in-law had simply said it was because the area got dirty easily… But now, what more was there to understand? An instant, violent ringing swallowed my hearing. I trembled all over, staring intently at the boy’s face. His features, his outline, were exactly like Greg’s. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Hearing the commotion, my mother-in-law turned and saw me, dripping wet. The smile on her face froze instantly, and panic flickered in her eyes. She hurried over, reaching for my hand. “Iris, what are you doing here suddenly…? Please let me explain, things aren’t what you think…” I stiffly lowered my head, desperately trying to suppress the tremors wracking my body. “Not what I think? Then whose child is this? And what about the photo on the wall?!” My mother-in-law opened her mouth, knowing that no amount of cover-up would work now. She sighed heavily and simply confessed. “Iris, since you’ve seen everything, I’ll tell you the truth.” She took a breath. “I truly pity you! You were ruined by those hooligans back then, unable to be touched by a man. But our Stone family can’t be without an heir!” I stood rooted to the spot, listening to my mother-in-law’s earnest pleas in my ear. “Greg was drunk and confused back then, but the child is innocent…” She went on, “Don’t worry, you’ll always be the Stone family’s only legitimate daughter-in-law! I’ve already signed an agreement with that woman; she’ll be a hidden joke for the rest of her life!” I pulled at the corners of my mouth. My gaze drifted to the healthy, lively child nearby, and for a moment, I didn’t know who the real joke was. So the “bastard child” Greg swore he’d aborted, not only was born, but was already two years old. I stared at her numbly, my heart feeling as if a large hole had been gouged out of it, cold wind rushing through. After a wave of nauseating sickness churned in my stomach, I pushed my mother-in-law away and rushed out without looking back. “Iris, what are you doing?!” My mother-in-law called out, her voice muffled as if through a film of water, completely distorted. I ignored her, plunging headfirst into the cold, rainy night. 3 Back home, I pulled out the suitcase I had prepared earlier, stuffing clothes into it with an expressionless face. But it wasn’t long before the front door clicked open with a passcode. I thought it was Greg, but to my surprise, Lily walked in casually with her child. Seeing me, a defiant glint flashed in her eyes. “Iris, Greg was too tired last night. He’s still sleeping at my place.” She settled onto the sofa as if she were the lady of the house. “I just came to get his ID.” She explained. “The little one will be starting preschool in a couple of years, and we need his father’s identification for early registration.” I fought against the churning nausea in my stomach, turning my back to her. “Grab what you need and get out.” She didn’t leave. Instead, she laughed even more brazenly. “Iris, don’t be so angry.” She continued, “Greg only has this one child, after all. This house will be mine and my son’s eventually. Is there anything wrong with me bringing my child here early to get familiar with the environment and learn the place?” The little boy was rampaging through the living room, smashing toy cars everywhere. I was about to step forward to stop him when I heard a sharp “crash!” A violent shattering of porcelain echoed from the balcony. That orchid, placed on the most prominent shelf, had been knocked to the ground by the little boy. Its vibrant green leaves were crushed, soil mixed with shattered pottery fragments splattering everywhere. My mind let out a deafening “buzz,” blood rushing to my head instantly. When I was little, my parents weren’t around. My grandmother was the only one who raised me. This orchid was the only relic she left me before she passed. It was my last cherished memory and source of warmth in this world. Red-eyed, I rushed over and shoved the boy, who was still carelessly stomping on the orchid leaves. “Get out! Get out with your bastard child!” The boy stumbled, fell to the ground, and burst into uncontrollable sobs. Lily’s face instantly changed. She rushed over, fiercely shielding the child. “Iris, what’s gotten into you?! A barren woman who can’t have children, how dare you lay a hand on my son!” She looked at me, trembling, her taunts growing crueler. “No wonder Greg said touching you made him sick. You’re just a dirty, second-hand woman!” She spat. “Greg even showed me those intimate photos of you being dragged into that alley. Five-dollar photos of you in 101 poses, bought by 2000 men who used them to ‘get off.’ You think I don’t know?” I felt as if struck by lightning, all the blood in my body flowing backward in that moment. Greg had clearly promised he would spend a lifetime healing my wounds. Now, he had personally torn open my scars and turned them into fodder for his mistress’s after-dinner entertainment! Overwhelming hurt and rage completely consumed my reason. I raised my hand, putting all my strength into it. I slapped her hard across the face. “Get out!” The sharp sound of the slap resonated throughout the living room. Lily’s head whipped to the side from the impact. She clutched her instantly reddened and swollen face, staring at me in disbelief. “You’re a complete lunatic…” she muttered. Then, clutching her child, she scurried out the door. The door slammed shut with a bang. I knelt amidst the muddy mess on the floor, frantically trying to pick up the shattered orchid leaves. Tears streamed down, blurring my vision completely. I couldn’t bear to stay in this disgusting marriage for another second. 4 My hands trembling, I swallowed my antidepressants, then headed out to deliver the divorce papers to Greg. Just as I reached the dimly lit utility room beside the corridor, familiar footsteps approached. Greg stormed from the stairwell, grabbing my neck and pinning me against the load-bearing wall. “Where did you hide little Leo?!” I struggled to break free from his grip, feeling the nausea that I had just suppressed return with full force. “Cough, cough, cough… What Leo? I don’t know…” “Still pretending!” His eyes were bloodshot, his voice echoing in the stairwell. “Lily said you went crazy and hit the child, and then he disappeared! Who else could it be but you?!” Blood rushed to my head. “I told you I haven’t seen him. If you don’t believe me, check the security footage!” “Iris, you’re just stalling!” He suddenly grabbed my hand, roughly dragging me into the abandoned storage room next to the rooftop. With a “bang,” the iron door slammed shut, plunging the room into instant darkness. I struggled to get up, but Greg pinned me down, his knee pressing hard against my leg. He violently ripped my skirt. The world before my eyes blurred, leaving only the ringing in my ears. “Let go of me!” He sneered, pulling out the high-concentration cleaning solution I carried in my bag, which had spilled on the floor. The next second, the cold, pungent cleaner was uncapped and brutally poured all over my thighs. A fiery, stinging pain instantly scorched my skin. “You can’t have children yourself, so you hurt someone else’s?!” He spat. “Let me see, this area of yours… it’s been touched by many people, hasn’t it?” He sneered, “What’s with the innocent victim act? After all those people used you, you probably loved every minute of it, didn’t you?!” I struggled, trying to run out, but Greg slapped me again, sending me crashing to the floor. “Didn’t you think about this day when you kidnapped Leo?” He growled. “I need to make you understand that my patience has limits!” The overpowering smell of chemicals, the man’s brutal restraint, the absolute darkness. Those vicious words instantly merged with my ex-husband’s curses. Countless dirty hands tearing at my clothes in that alley flashed madly through my mind. My stomach churned with overwhelming nausea, and I let out a desperate cry, kicking at him with all my might. In the violent struggle, my lower abdomen slammed hard against the sharp, rusted edge of an abandoned metal frame nearby. A muffled “thump.” An unbearable, searing pain instantly shot through my entire body. Warm blood, mixed with the pungent cleaner, slowly flowed down my thighs onto the cold concrete floor. I convulsed in pain, seemingly dragged back into that surreal world of memory. My ex-husband’s cold indifference as he allowed his beloved to leak my intimate photos, the overwhelming mockery from classmates and friends. “This stuff is strong; one sip and you’re out. Just shoot, any way you want!” “Such a loose woman, why don’t you just die?!” My vision flickered in and out, until the liquid beneath me felt hot, then tight and dry. Only then did Greg’s hands cease their brutal work. His phone suddenly rang in his pocket. He released his grip, answering the call and putting it on speaker. The hurried voice of the building security guard came through. “Mr. Stone, we found the child!” The security guard announced. “The little guy was playing around and got on a bus. He’s perfectly fine at the terminal; false alarm!” In the darkness, Greg was stunned for a moment. Then, with a relieved sigh, he pushed open the locked door. Sunlight streamed in, a little blinding. I looked up blankly. The rain had stopped, but the rooftop was still overcast. Faintly, I thought I saw my grandmother’s figure in the sky. Greg hung up the phone, remorsefully turning his head. He had just opened his mouth to say, “Iris… I’m sorry…” But I ignored him, gathering every ounce of strength, and suddenly rushed towards the edge of the rooftop! Greg’s face instantly went pale. “Iris!”

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I was right there when John dragged her ex-boyfriend, Lucas, into the hotel room. She turned to me, a cold sneer twisting her lips. “Haven’t you always doubted me?” “Well, now I’ll do everything right in front of you.” Soon, the room filled with the blush-inducing sounds of gasps and whispers. In that moment, I knew with chilling clarity that John and I were completely over. After that, no matter what she did, I never felt jealous again, nor did I ever confront her. Once, a broadcast reported a rumor about her and Lance. Hearing it, she immediately turned off the radio, eager to explain herself to me. I simply replied, nonchalantly, “I know. Those are all false.” But she still wasn’t reassured and continued to explain frantically. I couldn’t help but smile, telling her, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. I won’t tell Mom and Dad.” She slammed on the brakes, her face instantly turning ashen. 1. The moment John took Lance to that hotel room, our relationship ended. When I heard her and Lance’s names combined again, praising them as a match made in heaven, I didn’t crumble as I’d imagined. Lance was a social media influencer, gaining many followers by filming his daily life as an overseas student. A month ago, a live photo he posted on social media featured John. In the image, John’s figure flashed by, along with a box of condoms. Soon, someone dug up John’s identity. The live photo quickly became a trending topic. In Lance’s comment section, fans were asking: [Lance, tell us honestly, are you in love?] [This woman looks like the CEO of the Vinc Group.] [Wow, the woman in the GIF looks so beautiful.] Seeing these messages, I stood frozen. The conspicuous condoms in the photo brazenly declared the relationship between a man and a woman, and I felt a chill run through me. Back home, I waited for John’s explanation. She simply dismissed it in a few words. “Just a misunderstanding.” Seeing no reaction from me, she added: “I’ve already had them take down the trending topic.” After that, Lance’s name frequently appeared in my life. I heard colleagues gossiping at work. Every one of his posts was precisely pushed to me by big data. His and John’s rumors intensified. Netizens speculated widely about their relationship. 2. That weekend, John was away on a business trip. My best friend and I had made plans to go to a hot springs resort. There, I saw John and Lance. John was wearing a bikini, her perfect figure exposed to the air, with a suit jacket draped over her. Lance’s shirt collar was slightly open, his sleeves rolled up, and his suit trousers hugged his long legs, his posture casual and relaxed. Walking side by side, they looked like a match made in heaven in the eyes of others. John tilted her head slightly, listening to Lance speak. I don’t know what he said, but they both smiled in sync. I watched them enter the same private room. I followed, and inexplicably, pushed open the door. My mouth moved faster than my brain, uttering the accusing words: “John, you and Lance went to a room and slept together, didn’t you?” I froze on the spot. Everyone in the room turned to stare at me. John looked at me, her eyes indifferent. She withdrew her gaze, her thin lips parting slightly. “Assistant Chen, close the door.” I almost forgot how to breathe. John’s attitude made me feel embarrassed and humiliated. I lost all desire for the hot springs. After greeting my friend, I left the resort. John returned home that evening. I felt apologetic for what happened that morning, but I couldn’t help but feel wronged. A bitter sourness surged from deep within me, and I couldn’t suppress it. I couldn’t help but ask her. “John, did you cheat on me?” “What’s your relationship with him?” She glanced at me indifferently, her attitude cold and distant. “Ethan, what kind of relationship do you want me to have with him?” “In front of so many people, did you consider his future position?” My mind stalled, my heart sinking little by little. Her indifferent attitude was like a knife, piercing my heart without mercy. John glared at me coldly, then withdrew her gaze and disappeared from the living room. 3. After that, we fell into a cold war. John frequently went on business trips. The complete breakdown happened at one of John’s hotels. I saw Lance and John appear together in the hotel lobby. They took the elevator together to the penthouse suite. I followed them. “John.” She and Lance both stopped, turning to look at me. I asked her: “Your ‘business trip,’ was it actually taking your ex-boyfriend to a hotel room?” John just sneered. “Alright, haven’t you been suspecting me of cheating?” “Do you want me to show you everything, right in front of you?” She grabbed Lance’s arm and pulled him into the suite. Her eyes, dark and deep, fixed on me. “What, aren’t you going to come in and see what happens between him and me?” With that, John slammed the door shut. My eyes burned, my throat tightened, and for a moment, I couldn’t say anything. As I stepped into the elevator area, an unknown number called. The caller didn’t speak, only the faint, fragmented gasps of a woman came through. I froze for a long time… This ambiguous sound confirmed that John and Lance had crossed a line. My nose instantly stung with pain, and I knew John and I were truly over. I hailed a cab and left. Sitting in the car, I scrolled through Lance’s secondary social media account. His high school and college accounts had been dug up by netizens, and his relationship timeline with John had been meticulously compiled. He and John were high school classmates and started dating after graduating high school. They both went to King’s University, in different majors. Through Lance’s account, I seemed to see a different John. John would patiently accompany him to take photos at various trendy spots and even learned photography for him. She went with him to Disneyland, to the beach. Lance’s secondary account was filled with the pink sweetness of their love. The words he shared conveyed the strong affection between him and John. [She specially honed her photography skills for me; she loves me more than I love myself.] Under this post, someone commented: [Lance, I’m your junior, I also got into King’s from King’s First High. I heard about you and senior John in high school. You guys are so sweet, wishing you two forever.] John replied to the junior: [Thank you, he and I will be together happily.] The long-dormant King’s University forum buzzed with discussions about John and Lance again. [John and Lance were a match made in heaven at our school back then, but later Lance went to study abroad, and they seemed to break up.] [So, it’s a rekindled romance now?] [I have a bold guess: Lance seems to come from an ordinary family; it would be hard to afford his overseas studies, right? Could John have paid for it? That’s even more swoon-worthy, CEO John “working” domestically to support her husband.] John flew to California every year, and Lance’s alma mater was located in California. My hand, holding the phone, trembled slightly; I dared not overthink it. 4. Ten minutes after I arrived home, John also got back. Her clothes were neat, and she looked perfectly composed. My eyes were still a little red, and I didn’t meet her gaze directly. John stepped forward and took my hand. She explained to me. “Nothing happened between him and me.” “Tonight, those were just words spoken in anger.” She explained, but it was too late. I nodded gently. “I understand.” I didn’t speak to her for the entire evening. The next day, not feeling well, I took a cab to work at the hospital. When it was time to leave, I suddenly didn’t feel like going home. My colleague was on night duty but needed to attend his child’s parent-teacher conference, so I covered his shift. Tonight’s night shift was very busy. Several emergency patients were admitted. Only when I came out of the operating room did I see over a dozen missed calls on my phone. Liam, my colleague, rushed back after the parent-teacher conference. “Ethan, thanks a lot.” “I heard several emergencies came in tonight, and you did another surgery. You must be tired.” “I brought you a bubble tea.” I didn’t stand on ceremony with Liam; I took the bubble tea. “Thanks, Liam.” “I’m heading out then.” Liam smiled. “It’s I who should be thanking you.” It was almost midnight when I left the hospital. I had taken a cab in the morning, and I took one back now. After getting in the car, I properly checked my phone. All the missed calls were from John. She had sent messages: [Where are you?] [I’m waiting for you in the hospital parking garage.] I was already in the car. [No need.] [I’m on my way home.] Shortly after I arrived home, John also rushed back. Since that day, my feelings for her had changed. Her sudden return home made me feel a little lost. We stood facing each other, and I only felt extremely awkward. John’s gaze, however, was fixed tightly on me. I avoided her eyes. Seeing her, I would think of Lance. I would remember her pulling Lance into the hotel, and Lance’s call softly murmuring in my ear. I would remember everything about her and Lance’s relationship over the past few years. I used to share everything that happened at the hospital and what I ate each day with John. I was always the one trying to find topics to talk about. Now, I realized we had almost nothing to say to each other, making the entire space extremely quiet. It made me recall Lance’s diary entries during their relationship. [How can she talk so much? I’m almost falling asleep, and she’s still going on about what happened in the lab today.] Thinking of that, my heart suddenly tightened. John abruptly spoke. “Weren’t you on day shift today? Why are you so late?” I could feel her eyes on me. I didn’t meet her gaze, turning my back to her and walking to the dining table to pour water. “Mhm.” I didn’t explain, nor did I bother to. There was no need to be so clear with her. When I turned around, she was standing in front of me. Her thin lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something. I spoke first, and she swallowed her words. “I’m going to take a shower first.” When I came out, John was standing at the door. I was startled. Our eyes met unexpectedly, and I nodded awkwardly. Lying awake at night, my mind wandered. Just lying in the same bed made me feel uncomfortable. 5. John wakes early. By the time I wake up, she has already washed up and changed. Breakfast is laid out on the table. John’s expression is cool and aloof. Seeing the breakfast spread, I get a little lost in thought. I think of Lance’s social media posts again. [Last night I said I wanted a sandwich for breakfast, and when I woke up, I saw her in the kitchen preparing it for me.] [Her cooking is getting better and better.] Someone commented in the comments section: [Senior is so lucky.] Lance replied: [Hehe, I wish you could also find your own happiness.] Until John calls out: “Ethan.” “Breakfast is ready.” I snap back to reality and glance at the time. “You eat. I don’t have time.” A hand grips my arm. John’s narrow eyes look at me. Her gaze is deep. “There’s time. I’ll take you.” I sit down and eat a few bites casually. “Tonight, Grandpa wants us back at the old house for dinner.” “I’ll pick you up from the hospital in the evening.” I nod. “Okay.” As I stand up, John also rises. Her voice is rather cold. “I’ll take you.” I reject her without hesitation. “No need.” Her brow furrows slightly, and I immediately leave. 6. Liam and I ate lunch together in the cafeteria. Liam brought up the topic of going to Riverton for further study. He sighed. “Oh, my son has his college entrance exam this year, I don’t have time to go.” “Families like ours at the hospital certainly aren’t willing to go.” “And newly married doctors, it’s even less likely they’d go.” I said, “Liam, if you’re not going, I will.” Liam paused. “Ethan, are you sure?” I nod. “Yes, I want to take this opportunity to learn.” After lunch, I immediately contacted my supervisor and filled out the application form. Towards the end of my shift, John called me. I put it on speakerphone, and Liam and a few colleagues happened to walk by, looking at me with gossipy smiles. “Ethan, girlfriend?” I smiled, denying it. “No.” John said, “I’m in your hospital’s underground parking lot.” “Okay, I’ll be right down.” In the dim parking lot, a woman stood beside a black G-Wagon, her figure tall and slender, her back cool and aloof. I walked towards her. Unexpectedly, I ran into Liam in the parking lot. Liam smiled as he walked towards me, his eyebrow raised slightly. “Ethan, girlfriend?” “She’s not bad-looking.” My mind quickly whirred, and I spun a lie. “No, she’s my cousin.” John looked at me, her gaze deepening. Liam understood, losing his gossipy interest. “I’m heading off.” Once in the car, John’s throat subtly moved as she turned to face me. “Why did you say that just now?” I explained frankly. “I didn’t want my colleagues to misunderstand.” John paused slightly, her brow imperceptibly furrowing. “Misunderstand?” The car drove out of the parking lot. The familiar voice of a marketing account on the car’s entertainment channel was broadcasting. “Vinc Group CEO John Davies and influencer Lance Miller were recently spotted together at a new resort in Riverton. John was wearing a sexy bikini, and Lance draped his suit jacket over her. The two exuded immense sexual tension.” John immediately turned off the radio. She explained, “You were there that day, and there were other business partners present.” I replied, with a light, calm tone, “I know.” John spoke again. “Nothing happened between him and me.” I smiled thinly, assuming she was worried I’d tell our elders. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it a secret. I won’t tell Grandpa.” John slammed on the brakes, her face suddenly turning pale. She looked at me, emotions swirling in her eyes.

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My husband, Aaron, and I were supposed to go on our honeymoon to Bali. At the boarding gate, he suddenly stopped, his expression casual, and spoke. He said our love had received everyone’s blessings, so he wouldn’t be going on the honeymoon. I froze, completely unable to process it, only able to stare blankly and ask him what he meant. He smiled, took off the wedding ring from his ring finger, and gently placed it in my palm. He told me he had a “canary” he needed to tend to constantly and had already promised to be with her. He also said that marrying me had already made him indebted to that woman; I got the title of Mrs. Morris, and she got him, which he considered fair. My head buzzed, my lips bit until they bled, and I tremblingly asked him when this had happened. His tone carried a hint of apology, yet he seemed innocent, saying it had been going on for half a year. He hadn’t dared to bring it up because of my fiery temper. He said he’d wanted to marry me since he was a child, but a man couldn’t possibly love only one person his entire life. He even suggested that if I felt wronged, we could each “play the field,” and it pained him to see me upset. The wedding ring in my palm still gleamed with a pure white light, but the pregnancy test tucked in my pocket felt searing hot, as if about to burn. I smiled, though tears streamed down my face, and nodded at him. I said he was right; I shouldn’t wrong myself. 1 Aaron paused for two seconds, then smiled and ruffled my hair, a relieved chuckle escaping him. “Good, glad you’ve come to your senses. With your temper, I was genuinely worried you’d go after Rosalie.” “Oh, by the way, where did you put your wedding dress? I was a little too rough with her last night; her nail caught the lace on the skirt lining. She’s been meaning to fix it for you.” It felt as though someone had clamped their hand around my throat. A chill spread from the soles of my feet through my entire body. He, however, seemed oblivious, smiling apologetically. “She was crying, begging me to let her try on your wedding dress, wanting to be my bride just once. You’re both women, you can understand, right?” I looked at his flippant gaze, and three hours ago, I recalled how, supported by my best friend, I had been walked down the aisle, wearing this very wedding dress — a symbol of happiness now stained with my husband’s and his mistress’s lust — to be given to the man before me. A wave of sickening nausea instantly surged into my throat. The ring dug into my palm, and I trembled with pain. He took off his overcoat and draped it over my shoulders, gently embracing me, soothing, “Why are you shaking? Mrs. Morris will always be you.” Aaron’s charming eyes still held an impossibly deep affection. It was as if he wasn’t the one who had just casually mentioned messing around with another woman for a year, engaging in passionate embraces while she wore my wedding dress. A jarring sense of absurdity washed over me, leaving me gasping for air. He sighed in resignation. “I know you’re upset, but the young lady is willing to be with me without any status, and she’s even generous enough not to contend for your position as Mrs. Morris. If I don’t spend more time with her, what kind of man would I be?” “Rosalie is different from other women, very pure and self-respecting. If she didn’t truly love me, she would never be a ‘canary.’ She’s sacrificed so much for me; I can’t let her down. Even though you have a fiery temper, you’ve always been reasonable, you understand me, right?” Love? I almost laughed until tears came. I loved him too. My temper was indeed fiery, yet in front of him, I softened, making myself humble and accommodating. I was reasonable, yet I would stubbornly hound paparazzi over a scandalous rumor about him, arguing with respected elders to clear his name. My love he ignored, another woman’s love he cherished. I curled my cold fingers, closing my eyes in self-mockery. “If you’re so in love, then let’s get a divorce.” Aaron paused for two seconds, then chuckled softly. “I just complimented you on your improved temper, and now you’re going to make a scene?” “You’ve been with me since you were eighteen, and you’ve had two miscarriages. If you leave me, what man out there would dare take you on?” I stared at him, my heart feeling like a red-hot coal had rolled over it. Twenty-eight years. We’d escaped the orphanage together, slept under bridges, shared a single bowl of instant noodles. During our toughest times, we only had water to fill our stomachs. Because we had no money for birth control or abortions, I endured the freezing cold, climbing stairs only to fall down them, bearing the pain and crying until I was exhausted as I lost two children. Aaron knelt by my bedside, stabbing himself twice. His blood-stained hand tremblingly covered my eyes, his words ringing in my ears, “Charlotte, I promise I’ll give you a good life. If I ever wrong you, may I be struck by lightning.” The promise was heavy. I believed it for half my life and was willful for half my life. The physical harm, the mental stress, the mundane drudgery of everyday life… all meant I couldn’t always have a gentle temper. Until half an hour ago, when Aaron held me and solemnly promised our friend he’d be good to me forever, I thought following him had been worth it my entire life. My phone rang. The ringtone was distinctive. It had appeared many times in the night, and Aaron always said it was a client. Because I trusted him so much, I never doubted. Now I realized how foolish I’d been. He didn’t answer immediately, his voice calm, as if placating an unreasonable child. “Why bother with a mere distraction? Are we really going to abandon our twenty-eight years together because of an outsider?” “You’re not young anymore, Charlotte. No parents, no job. Only I will support you. Any more drama, and it won’t be appropriate.” He handed his luggage to his assistant. “I’ll have my assistant accompany you to relax. I’m going to be with Rosalie. Think carefully about what I’ve said.” The moment Aaron turned to leave, he answered the phone. “Baby, Daddy’s on his way…” That word, “Daddy,” felt like a slap, sharply stinging my face. I ran to the restroom, gagging until my face was streaked with tears. Taking out the searing hot pregnancy test from my pocket, I pulled out my phone and made a call. Aaron was right; I shouldn’t wrong myself. Too weak for a honeymoon, I dismissed the assistant and walked alone towards our marital home. Entering the password, I opened the door. A faint, intimate gasp from a man drifted out. “Could your uncle and aunt have been prescient? Naming you Rosalie is truly fitting.” “Ever since I’ve been with you, I’ve barely touched her. I told her I was ‘sexually repressed,’ except for that one time I tricked her into giving me the property deed to transfer the house to you.” “She’s pitiable? The position of Mrs. Morris is hers. The one I need to compensate now is you.” “So kind-hearted. How about Daddy gives you his life?” Each brazen, flippant word, laced with disdain, assaulted my ears. I stood frozen in the doorway, my body tingling as if shocked. Six months ago, Aaron had shown me a diagnosis report for “sexual repression,” his face full of apology. “Honey, our future marital life might be compromised. Please don’t leave me, okay?” I felt sorry for him, trying every way to please him, but it was always fruitless. Until two months ago, when he suddenly came home drunk and we were intimate. I thought my efforts had finally worked, but it was just a reluctant act for him to set up a property for his canary… That’s when I conceived the child. Though it was the warmest part of early spring, I felt as if I were in a world of ice and snow. An hour later, Aaron emerged from the bedroom, arm-in-arm with a strikingly beautiful woman. Seeing me in the living room, Rosalie reacted as if greatly startled, her eyes instantly reddening. “Sister, it’s all my fault. This is your and Aaron’s marital home. I shouldn’t have come here, but I really loved this villa so much. I thought you were away on vacation and wouldn’t run into me, but I didn’t expect…” She suddenly pouted, bursting into tears. “Please don’t blame Aaron, and please don’t kick me out. I truly love Aaron, I’m not here to break you two up, I’m here to join you.” With that, she dropped to her knees before me, kowtowing repeatedly. Aaron’s face instantly changed. He urgently pulled her into his arms, comforting and soothing her gently. “Didn’t I tell you not to hurt yourself no matter what you do? Why don’t you ever listen? It pains me.” “Oh, never mind. You’re naturally kind and simple; you’ll never change. I’ll just have to protect you more.” He looked at me, a flicker of complexity and impatience in his eyes. “Charlotte, you’ve scared her. I should have known you wouldn’t leave quietly. Now that you’ve caused a scene, are you happy?” The sudden rhetorical question left my mind blank for a moment. I hadn’t said a single word since I entered the house. This villa was Aaron’s and my marital home. I was his legally wedded wife, Mrs. Morris. Yet, for his canary, even witnessing the culprit who destroyed everything was a mistake. Seeing my sarcastic smile, Aaron’s eyes flickered. He suddenly released Rosalie and walked towards me, his voice softening. “Alright, both of you are my darlings. You’re both equally precious to me. From now on, the three of us will live in this villa together.” “This afternoon, there’s a banquet. Come with me.” Just as I was about to refuse, Aaron interrupted me. “Rosalie is going too. It’s her first time at such an event. You can help her with her dress and lend her some support.” I froze, finding it ridiculously amusing. Then, remembering the little time I had left, I didn’t argue further. Before the banquet, Rosalie claimed she had no suitable dress and picked out a unique couture gown and accessories from my wardrobe – the ones I had worn as Mrs. Morris for Aaron’s company’s IPO debut. She walked in, arm in arm with Aaron, while I held her train, becoming the center of attention. The guests’ ridicule followed me like a shadow. “Mr. Morris really knows how to manage a wife. His wife holds up his mistress’s skirt and dares not utter a peep.” “They call her Mrs. Morris, but really she’s just a glorified maid, worse than a dog.” “This Charlotte Price must be an idiot, used for over two decades and gained nothing. She might as well be dead.” I fled the banquet hall, wanting to hide in the restroom. Instead, a sharp slap landed on my face. Clutching my stinging cheek, I stared incredulously at the woman before me. Rosalie flexed her wrist, the facade of gentleness stripped away from her face. “Aaron and I were like that right in front of you, and you still shamelessly cling to him. Aren’t you pathetic?!” “You garbage, born of no mother and raised by no one, divorce Aaron quickly, or one day, you might lose an arm or a leg, and that wouldn’t be good…” My head buzzed. All I saw was the woman’s sharp, vicious face, her mouth constantly opening and closing. I laughed in fury, but Rosalie didn’t give me a chance to retaliate. She suddenly shrieked, tore open the chest of her gown, and fell backward. “Charlotte Price!” Aaron rushed over from the center of the banquet, helping Rosalie up and pulling her into his embrace. She cried, unable to stand, tears flowing instantly. “Aaron, I know I’m the other woman, and I ruined your marriage with Miss Price. I already know I was wrong. I shouldn’t have appeared. I’m a vicious wretch!” With that, she repeated her trick, slapping herself twice hard across the face. Aaron grabbed her hands, his jaw clenched. “Who said those things?” Rosalie bit her lip, clutching her clothes tightly. “Please, don’t ask.” But as her eyes swept over me, her body trembled. “Someone like me can’t afford to offend rich and powerful ladies like you. Aaron, I was too naive, thinking love could conquer all. I’m not worthy of you. Please let me go. I don’t want to be inexplicably killed one day.” Aaron’s brows knitted tightly, his gaze fixed on me, hostile. “Explain!” I lowered my hand, revealing my swollen, red cheek. “You should ask her what she said.” “Miss Price!” Rosalie shrieked, her voice sharp and piercing. “Yes, I slapped you, but that was because you threatened my parents’ lives! They’re just ordinary people. If you’re still not satisfied, let me hit you back. Please, don’t hurt them.” My eyes turned red with anger. “You’re lying! It was clearly you…” “Enough.” Aaron cut me off coldly, looking at me with disappointment. “Charlotte, I’ve spoiled you rotten.” “Do you think because you have no parents, I can’t touch you?” Perhaps I had expected it, or perhaps I had already grown disheartened. I offered a futile smile, my eyes burning with pain. “So, how do you plan to protect your darling?” He slowly walked towards me, deliberately pulling off the good luck charm he had personally made for me, the one around my neck, when he earned his first fortune. He turned and instructed his assistant, “Call the police. Mrs. Morris has committed theft, caught red-handed.” I forgot how to move, my mind a blank. Aaron’s path to success hadn’t been easy; he was accustomed to ruthlessness. I was his only weakness. Regardless of right or wrong, he had always taken my side over what was logical. But now, he was the one plunging the knife into my heart. Aaron caressed the good luck charm, his cold features growing increasingly unfamiliar in my blurred vision. “Charlotte, you’ve been a very naughty girl. Go inside and reflect for a few days.” “Don’t worry, it won’t be long. When you come out, I’ll put the good luck charm back on you myself.” I gave a sarcastic twist of my lips. As the police officer walked in, handcuffing me, I expressionlessly pulled my hand from his grip. The sudden emptiness of the touch made Aaron frown uneasily. He stared at my retreating back, a nagging feeling that he could never hold onto me again. Just as he was about to step forward, Rosalie took his arm first. “Aaron, thank you for sticking up for me. I was so scared just now.” Aaron clicked his tongue, playfully pinching her cheek. “What do you want as compensation?” Rosalie smiled, taking the good luck charm from his hand and tossing it into the trash. Seeing his face change, she immediately pouted, her eyes reddening with feigned grievance. “Is it that important?” Rosalie made a move to rummage through the trash. “Then I’ll help you find it. After all, it’s a memento from your childhood. Even if she hurt me, I don’t want you to be troubled.” Aaron put his arm around her waist, completely softened. “You’re much more important. Don’t get your hands dirty. Here’s my black card, buy whatever you want.” Rosalie defiantly refused. “I don’t want your money, I only love you.” “Yes, yes, I want to spend money on my darling. If you don’t spend it, I’m not happy.” Rosalie then reluctantly accepted. Three days later, I was disoriented as I was led out of the confined room. I was escorted straight into a private room at a club. Pushing the door open, Aaron and Rosalie were sharing a grape in the center of the sofa. The grape dropped, and they leaned in, kissing passionately. The cheers and catcalls of the men and women around them almost blew the roof off. I don’t know how long passed before Aaron finally saw me standing in the doorway. He stared at my gaunt, pale face, his expression immediately darkening. “What’s wrong? Did someone bully you in there?” Before I could speak, Rosalie let out a derisive snort. “Sister Charlotte really knows how to manipulate men. With your relationship with Aaron, who would dare bully you? That sickly makeup you’ve put on looks so realistic; it must have taken you ages.” Aaron, who was about to stand up, settled back down at her words. He took out a cigarette, lighting it with the flame Rosalie offered. The smoke blurred his features; only his eyes, looking at me, showed suppressed impatience. “Since you’ve reflected enough, come over and apologize to Rosalie.” Rosalie, dressed in white, sat obediently nestled in Aaron’s arms, swirling a glass of unknown strength liquor. “Actually, I don’t want to make things difficult for you either.” “But you insulted my parents and threatened to kill them. Anyone would be upset, right?” She paused, then, remembering something, let out a strange exclamation. “Oh, I forgot. Your parents abandoned you when you were little. If it weren’t for Aaron, you would have starved to death by now.” I said nothing. Aaron’s face was grim, and he remained silent. Rosalie placed her drink on the coffee table and smiled. “Drink up.” I lowered my head. “I’m sorry.” Rosalie shook her head. “Just saying it isn’t sincere enough. This drink is 120 proof. You should drink it.” I stared at the bubbling green liquid, instinctively looking at Aaron. In the years I helped him build his empire, I had already developed a perforated stomach from drinking at business functions. Every time I drank, I ended up in the ICU. From then on, Aaron never let me touch alcohol again. But the man before me now merely exhaled a puff of smoke, his indifferent expression as if saying the weather was nice today. “Charlotte, it’s just one drink. Your tolerance isn’t that bad.” I had long given up hope, but my heart still tightened uncontrollably. I picked it up and swallowed. The scorching pain seared from my throat down to my stomach. My lower abdomen sank, and I stumbled, doubled over in pain. “Miss Price’s alcohol tolerance is so good, then drink a few more glasses.” Rosalie pointed to a row of colorful drinks on the table. My face went cold. Rosalie looked at Aaron, her expression aggrieved. “Aaron, I was called a mistress, threatened with my parents’ death, and suffered such immense emotional damage. Is it too much to ask for this small compensation?” “Of course not too much,” Aaron said, putting his arm around her, grinding his cigarette butt into the ashtray. “Charlotte, I want to help you too, but you went too far. Listen to Rosalie. Once she’s appeased, you can atone.” I nodded calmly. Clutching my stomach, which felt like it was being twisted by a knife, I picked up the decanter on the table. “A few drinks aren’t enough for atonement. I’ll chug the bottle.” When the bottle hit the floor, I couldn’t help but cough up blood, collapsing weakly onto the ground. Rosalie recoiled several steps in disgust. “Miss Price, it was just one bottle of wine. Do you really need to use a blood bag?” Aaron was also convinced by this reasoning, his brow furrowing impatiently. “Alright, how long are you going to keep up this act? Rosalie has been merciful enough to you. Stop making a spectacle of yourself and get up.” I said nothing, looking up at him. The woman closest to me suddenly shrieked, “Blood! Her pants are covered in blood! This is… she’s having a miscarriage…” I met Aaron’s instantly bloodless face, revealing my most genuine smile of the day. “Your child is also compensated to her. Is that enough?”

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Three years ago, my family sent me to the “Perfect Husband Academy.” It began when my wife, Jenny, brought home an AI butler named Caspian. After that, I became a ghost in my own home. Jenny said I only cared about work. My daughter, Annie, thought I wasn’t as good as “Papa Caspian” with homework or technology. Even my parents would say if I were half as steady as him, they’d be enjoying their retirement. Once, during an argument, I broke Caspian’s processor. Jenny screamed at me, pushing me away. Annie looked at me with fear and dislike. My father said I couldn’t handle work or family, and had a terrible temper—I was worse than a machine. They said I didn’t know how to be a husband, father, or son, so they sent me to the academy to learn. I was forced to this correctional facility for men, swapping places with Caspian. Now, three years later, my “rehabilitation” is done. My wife, daughter, and parents have come to pick me up for “graduation.” They call my name through the glass. I sit quietly, posture erect, showing no reaction. The dean reminds them that to speak to a qualified perfect husband, they must use the wake-up phrase. He says, “Please say: Perfect Husband Mode, activate.” … 1 Jenny stands outside the car. My parents stand beside her, their eyes a little red. Ten-year-old Annie peeks out from behind Jenny, her eyes curious. “Perfect Husband Mode, activate!” I blink, stand straight, hands at my sides, and bow ninety degrees. “Perfect Husband Mode activated. Please state your command.” My voice is flat, like an electronic announcement. Jenny stares at me for three seconds before saying, “Get in the car. We’re going home.” On the way back, my mother’s voice trembles. “Ash, my boy, how have you been these past three years… in there?” I don’t answer. “Ash.” Jenny’s brows furrow. “Mom is asking you a question.” “Interrogative sentences are not valid commands,” I say, looking at the road ahead. “To retrieve information, please use clear, imperative statements.” My father coughs sharply. After a moment, Jenny utters two dry words. “Report.” “Yes.” I respond instantly, like a recording playing. “Student Ash, number 7749, has completed all core courses, including ‘Efficient Income Generation and Asset Planning,’ ‘Absolute Emotional Management and Stress Endurance,’ ‘Family Needs Prediction and One Hundred Percent Responsibility Implementation,’ and ‘Integration of Traditional Husbandly Duties and Modern Family Roles.’ Graduation comprehensive assessment: Excellent. Academy evaluation: A model perfect husband for the new era, excelling in both career and family, recommended as a benchmark for promotion.” Every word is precise, steady, and cold. My mother’s eyes widen in astonishment. Annie whispers, “Daddy sounds just like Uncle Caspian.” Jenny’s knuckles whiten as she grips the steering wheel. When we arrive home, Caspian stands at the door, a perfectly polite smile on his face. “Madam is back.” His voice is gentle as he takes Jenny’s bag. “Annie got a perfect score on her math test today; the paper has been put away. Dad, Mom, your herbal tea is brewed; have some to relax.” Finally, he looks at me, his smile impeccable. “Ash, welcome home.” I don’t respond. He hasn’t used a command. “Ash,” Jenny’s voice deepens. “Caspian is welcoming you.” “No command for response or greeting received,” I reply. Jenny’s voice rises. “Here’s your command now: Thank Caspian! Thank him for taking care of the family during this time.” I turn to Caspian and nod. “Thank you.” Caspian’s smile doesn’t waver. “It’s my pleasure.” Dinner is an eight-course meal with soup, prepared by Caspian. In the past, they always complained that I was a workaholic, either working late or dealing with work at home, forgetting family birthdays, neglecting household chores, not being a “qualified” husband and father. “Caspian’s cooking gets better and better,” my father says. “It really does, even more refined than a high-end restaurant,” my mother agrees. Annie eats with her cheeks puffed out. “Uncle Caspian’s food is the best!” Jenny picks up a piece of spare rib and places it in my bowl. “Eat.” “Command confirmed: Ingest.” I pick up my chopsticks, take the spare rib, put it in my mouth, chew twenty times, swallow, put down my chopsticks, place my hands back on my knees, and wait. Everyone at the table stares at me. “Just… just one piece?” My mother’s voice is dry. “Academy rule: Dinner intake not to exceed two hundred grams. This piece of spare rib is approximately one hundred twenty grams, exceeding the limit, and will be deducted from tomorrow’s breakfast portion,” I reply. Jenny slams her chopsticks on the table. The whole family falls silent for a moment. After dinner, I stand up to clear the dishes. Caspian tries to help, but I step aside. “Please do not interfere with task execution,” I say. Caspian withdraws his hand and looks at Jenny, a hint of appropriate helplessness in his eyes. Jenny rubs her temples. “Let him do it.” I enter the kitchen and take over the dishwashing. Water flow, temperature, detergent ratio, wiping frequency… I strictly follow the academy’s standard procedures. The dishes gleam like new, the sink counter spotless. My mother leans against the kitchen doorway for a long time, finally unable to resist. “Ash, you… you don’t have to be so…” “Cleaning task completed. What is the next command?” I turn off the faucet, pivot, my hands at my sides. Her words catch in her throat, and she eventually just waves her hand. Later that night, Jenny lies beside me. I can smell her faint perfume, a floral-fruity scent I bought for her three years ago. “Ash.” Her voice softens. “Look at me.” I turn to her, my gaze direct, devoid of emotion. “Do you hate me?” she asks. 2 I respond, “Command unclear, unable to execute.” Jenny starts to speak, then stops. She turns to face me, trying to get closer. I immediately tense my body, even holding my breath. She sees my eyes, empty, without warmth or desire, only a blankness awaiting a command. “What…” Her voice is hoarse. “What did they do to you at the academy?” I don’t answer. It’s not a command. She turns away in frustration, her voice low, as if talking to herself. “…Never mind, let’s sleep.” The next day is Annie’s school sports day. She starts complaining early in the morning. “Daddy, please don’t be like before, just talking on the phone about work, or making a stern face saying my movements aren’t standard. It’s so embarrassing.” I put down my chopsticks. “Command confirmed: Maintain focus in public, do not handle work communications, do not provide technical guidance. Would you like me to simulate Caspian’s behavior? Data shows he typically offers encouraging smiles, provides electrolyte drinks after races, and says, ‘Annie’s happiness is most important, rank doesn’t matter.’” “Daddy! I don’t want you to be like him!” Annie’s eyes redden. I nod. “Command modified. According to the schedule, the sports day begins at nine sharp. I will now prepare related items.” As I leave the dining table, I hear Annie’s choked sobs of grievance. “Daddy’s so weird, old Daddy never talked to me like this, I want Daddy to go back to how he was!” Midway through the sports day, while helping Annie organize her things, an old injury flares up. It was from a few years ago when Annie was running around a shopping mall and almost hit by a falling decoration. I dove to shield her, and a sharp object pierced my lower left abdomen. I lost a lot of blood and stayed in the hospital for a long time. Jenny cried many times by my bedside, calling me her and Annie’s hero. A sharp pain shoots through my lower back, but in the academy, such unnecessary pain must be suppressed or ignored to maintain a hundred percent family pillar status. When I first entered the academy, I was punished with electric shocks for moaning in pain during training. Any display of weakness or failure in emotional control would result in more severe physical punishment. I stand on the sidelines, my face pale, watching Annie and Caspian run a “father-son” relay race. Caspian’s movements are standard and full of vitality. Onlookers say enviously to Jenny, “Your husband is amazing. Successful in his career, yet so dedicated to his family, and great at sports too.” Jenny just forces a smile. Caspian walks over, holding Annie’s hand. “Is Ash feeling unwell?” He looks at me, his eyes showing concern. “You look a bit pale.” “Negative. My physical system is operating normally,” I say, standing straighter, even though it exacerbates the pain. “Do you have any commands?” Jenny sees the cold sweat on my forehead and my tightly pressed lips. She suddenly reaches out, wanting to touch my forehead. I react as if struck by an electric current, recoiling sharply and bumping against the railing with a dull thud. People around us look over. Jenny’s face is terribly strained. “Mommy! Daddy, Daddy’s bleeding!” Annie suddenly points at my wound, alarmed. Jenny and she seem to remember something, not even bothering with others, rushing to take me to the hospital. On the way home from the hospital, Annie insists on sitting next to me, pressing close. She’s grown taller than three years ago. Her gaze on my wound becomes careful and hesitant. “Daddy, does it still hurt?” “You don’t even say if it hurts,” Jenny says, staring straight ahead, her voice stiff. “Pain perception does not affect task execution,” I reply. “According to the ‘Perfect Husband Code’: Males should properly manage their own health and emotions, avoiding their impact on family atmosphere and members’ moods. Recommendation: Ignore.” “Shut up!” Jenny suddenly roars, slamming her fist on the steering wheel. The car instantly falls silent, Annie too scared to speak. After a long moment, Jenny says in a hoarse voice, “Command: You are permitted to express discomfort.” “Yes,” I reply immediately. “Current lower back old injury pain index is approximately 7, within tolerable range. Recommendation: Use academy-provided muscle relaxant patch. Expected relief within forty-eight hours, will not affect fulfillment of family responsibilities. Recommendation: Ignore.” Jenny says nothing more, just drives the car faster. When we arrive home, Caspian prepares ointment and hot water for me. My father says with concern, “Look how thoughtful Caspian is. You, you never knew how to take care of yourself before, and now you…” I don’t hold it steadily, and the scalding hot water spills on my hand. My father exclaims, “Quick, get the first-aid kit! Ash, that must hurt so much!” My face is expressionless. “Command error, unable to execute.” A large blister forms on the back of my hand. My father is shaking with anger. “What’s with the commands, you’re a human being, can’t you feel pain?!” “Caspian, quickly help Ash with this.” Caspian walks over and professionally treats my burn, a perfect and reliable smile on his face. That night, I hear them discussing, deciding to contact the academy to find out what went wrong with me. 3 The academy’s response is that I am this year’s most outstanding graduate of the Perfect Husband Academy, and all my actions are to support the family. But my mechanized language and emotionless responses make them uncomfortable. “This is all normal. Only this way can he be the most perfect husband, father, and son in your eyes.” They are skeptical, but for the next few days, they follow the dean’s instructions. I wake up at five to prepare breakfast for the family, drop off and pick up Annie from school, work efficiently remotely during the day, check Annie’s homework in the evening, give my parents massages, and at night, fulfill my husbandly duties to Jenny according to “commands.” Her body is warm. I used to love holding her to sleep, but now I feel nothing. In a moment of intimacy, she feels something isn’t right on my hand and quickly turns on the light. My hand, burned that day, hadn’t received follow-up treatment and is now inflamed and festering. “Ash! Your hand!” I look up and ask, “Task completed. What is the next command?” She freezes, then drives like a madwoman to take me to the hospital. While the doctor treats me, I don’t make a sound, not even a frown, just calmly describe the state of my wound. The doctor looks at me in surprise, then at Jenny, his expression complex. After treating the wound, the doctor says the infection is deep; any later, and the function of this hand might have been impaired. Back home, my father looks at me, his eyes red. This man, usually so stern. “Ash…” His voice chokes as he reaches out to pat my shoulder. I step back, avoiding his touch. “Non-essential physical contact may interfere with task execution efficiency and stable image,” I say. “Recommendation: Control emotions to avoid impacting family atmosphere.” My father’s hand freezes in mid-air. He looks at me as if I were a strange machine. He suddenly turns to Jenny, his voice trembling. “Jenny, you signed the papers back then! You sent him in! Now he’s like this, it’s all your fault!” Jenny’s face pales. My mother sobs, her eyes red. “It’s my fault too! Why didn’t I stop you then! Why did I believe that academy’s nonsense! Saying they could teach Ash to be a pillar… a perfect husband…” “Look at him now!” She points at me, her finger shaking. “Does he even resemble a human anymore?! He’s like a machine! Like a puppet with a set program! Is this my son?! Is this the son I raised?!” My father embraces her. “Don’t say it… don’t say it…” “I will say it!” My mother struggles, tears streaming down her old face. “I can’t take it anymore! Seeing him like that, I hurt! My heart aches! I’d rather he was like before! At least he had a temper! He’d talk back! He’d argue with us! At least he was a living person! And now? What is he now?!” She collapses onto the sofa, covering her face and weeping bitterly. After that, they start being “nice” to me. My parents tell me not to work too hard. Annie plays simple games with me. Jenny no longer tries to be intimate with me, just gently leans against me. Their attention seems to have fully returned to me, and Caspian is often “idle.” The day Annie gets first place in her midterm exam, she throws her arms around my arm, cooing playfully. “Daddy hasn’t taken me out in ages. I got first place this time, and I want to go to the amusement park and eat the cotton candy you buy.” Caspian tries to follow, but Annie refuses, and my parents also tell him to stay home. He stands in the entryway, his expression completely unchanged. When Jenny returns home early from work, I’ve just handed the cotton candy I bought to Annie. After a few bites, Annie suddenly clutches her stomach, curling up and groaning, her face paling. The whole family panics. Caspian initiates a scan. “Detecting unidentified allergen residue in food.” He looks at me because I bought and provided the cotton candy. Jenny, holding Annie, is both shocked and furious. “Ash, is there something wrong with the cotton candy you bought?!” “Command confirmed, food was purchased and provided by me.” “I’m asking if you added anything or bought the wrong thing!” Jenny yells. My parents have already called emergency services. Caspian retrieves the shopping records and family health database, which shows I “ignored” Annie’s history of allergy to a certain dye, and purchased cotton candy containing that ingredient. Jenny, livid, slaps me across the face. “Ash, I thought three years of training would have changed you, but you’re still so careless! No, you’re heartless now! Annie has a history of allergies!” My mother pushes me, crying, “We’ve been so careful with you, how could you still make such a mistake! What did you even learn, how to harm your own daughter?!” My face swollen, I repeat again and again, “Command error, no harmful action executed. According to purchase command, chosen highest-rated store.” Jenny trembles, roaring, “Shut up! You useless piece of trash who can’t even take care of his own daughter, why don’t you just die!” “Just die!” I blink, look at their hateful faces, and respond calmly. “Command confirmed.” “Die.” Amidst their cries, I turn and walk towards the kitchen.

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1 That evening, a message popped up from the kid my mother was sponsoring. He sent a sheepish text explaining that he’d changed our Wi-Fi password when he came over to drop something off for Evelyn. He said he was just bored. He followed it up with a string of letters: CluelessOldFossil. I remembered how the Wi-Fi had suddenly cut out earlier that day, flashing a “wrong password” error. I’d asked Evelyn about it, but she just said it was probably a glitch. She was buried in her work, so I let it go. I didn’t reply to his text. That night, I had dinner with Evelyn, just like always. The next day, I changed the password again. At the morning meeting, I made a point of looking right at the kid. “By the way, the new Wi-Fi password is ‘HomeWrecker.’ Make sure you type it in right next time.” … Evelyn held it together for the entire day. The moment we got home, she exploded. “What the hell was that at the meeting this morning? Now everyone at the office thinks something is going on between me and Liam. Are you happy now?” “So you admit he was in our house while I was gone,” I said, my eyes fixed on the financial news flickering across the TV. I didn’t have to look at her to picture the storm brewing on her face. A second later, she stormed over and snapped the TV off. “Don’t forget, you’re the one who got him the job. He’s an employee, and he was here to deliver work files. What’s the big deal?” she shot back. “And what about that time on the bus? You humiliated him in public. Did you even once think about how that made me feel?” That time. I’d seen it with my own eyes: the cool, ever-composed Evelyn, squeezing onto a crowded city bus right alongside Liam. The old me would never have been able to imagine such a scene. For our anniversary last year, I’d planned a sunset bike ride. It was supposed to be romantic. Instead, she trailed me in her sports car, practically idling, watching me pedal by myself like an idiot. Finally, she’d just rolled down the window and said, “God, could you be any more cliché?” The memory soured in my mouth, and I fought to keep the rage out of my voice. “How long has it been going on between you two?” Silence stretched between us. She tilted her head back and let out a long, weary sigh. “I told you, it’s just work. Do you have to turn everything into a fight?” She paused, a cruel smirk twisting her lips. “You’re becoming more and more like your father. Always looking for trouble where there isn’t any.” My blood ran cold. Eight years ago, my mother began sponsoring Liam and his mom. My father became convinced they were having an affair. The suspicion drove him mad. He slit his wrists in the bathtub. The water turned a deep, sickening crimson, spilling over the edge to lick at my feet. It felt scalding, and my whole body shook. Evelyn rushed over when she got the call. She wrestled the blade from my hand as I tried to follow him, her arm taking the cut meant for me. She just held me, repeating over and over, “It’s okay, it’s okay…” It’s the nightmare that has haunted me my entire life. And now, she was using it to shut me up. By the time I surfaced from the memory, Evelyn was already in the bathroom. Her phone, left on the table, was open to Liam’s social media feed. She’d just liked his latest post. [Did a good deed with the boss today! She was so scared of needles she buried her face in my chest! Guess I’m the only one who’s seen her this vulnerable] The screen was a blur of flower and heart emojis, each one a weight crushing the air from my lungs. Evelyn has a severe phobia of blood. I know this better than anyone. When I was in that car accident, bleeding out, she was a perfect match. But she just stood there, watching me writhe in agony, sweat pouring down my face. She wouldn’t give a single drop. By the time the hospital found a compatible donor, I was already in the ICU. The doctor told me a few more minutes and I would have been gone. The comments section was a party. [Dude, details on the “buried her face” part?] [Her own husband almost died and she wouldn’t give him a drop of blood. How’d you manage this?] [Liam, you’re a legend!] Liam’s replies were flirty and vague, but I couldn’t really see them through the haze in my eyes. The only thing in focus was Evelyn’s thumbs-up. Her “like.” I tilted my head back, wiped the moisture from my eyes, and dialed my lawyer. “I need you to draw up divorce papers.” At 3 a.m., Evelyn shook me awake. “I just learned how to make dumplings. Get up and have some.” She dragged me into the kitchen. Flour dusted every surface, and bits of filling were scattered like confetti. It was my father’s recipe, the one he always used to recite from memory. She’d never stepped foot in the kitchen before. She used to complain about the smell of cooking oil on my clothes. Now, here she was, her face smudged with flour, her hands clumsily but intently folding the dough. The old me would have snapped a nine-photo collage for social media: [My wife made me dumplings by hand. I’m the luckiest man alive.] But now, I just fought back a yawn. “Have you ever cooked for him?” Her hands stilled. She shot me a look that screamed, Here we go again. “I made you food. I said nice things. What more do you want from me?” The next second, the bag of flour hit the floor with a soft thud. The dam inside me broke. “You let him come and go from our house as he pleases, you go with him to donate blood, everyone in the company is whispering about you two—” “Enough!” Her voice shot up, sharp and cracking. “You are my husband, Ryan, not some low-life picking fights in an alley. Look at yourself! Look at how crazy you’ve become!” She wasn’t done. “Liam comes from nothing, but he works hard and everyone at the company loves him. But you? The employees can’t stand you. Maybe you should take a look in the mirror and ask yourself why!” As she spoke, she was already typing on her phone. A notification popped up in the company-wide group chat. An official announcement firing me from my position. It took me five years to climb from an entry-level position to director. It took her one second to erase it all. “There. Are you satisfied?” she spat, yanking off her apron. “Now you won’t have to see any of this so-called ‘gossip’ from your employees anymore!” She stormed out of the house, leaving her phone on the counter. Some dark impulse made me pick it up. I opened her chat with Liam. Liam: [Did the trick I taught you work? Even the most stubborn old fossil can be tamed, right? ;)] Evelyn: [Haha, not so sure it’ll work on Ryan.] So, the dumplings were his idea. And she agreed with him. I was the stubborn, old fossil. Evelyn didn’t come home that night. Instead, she appeared in a live photo on Liam’s social media feed. Two shadowy figures, tangled together in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of her CEO office. The sound of a kiss, just for a second, was a knife twisting in my ear. The comments flooded in. [Is the boss getting a new husband?] [Finally! Maybe we can get rid of that old fossil for good. Things will be so much better at work!] She had to have known he was filming. She had to. She wanted me to see it. She wanted me to know that without the title of ‘Evelyn’s husband,’ I was nothing. No one would respect me. I had no right to question her. I would end up just like my father. My hand trembled as I liked the post. I went back to our bedroom, opened a suitcase, and started packing. The framed photo of us on the nightstand went straight into the trash. I was done. I was done with all of it. I sat awake until the early hours of the morning, when the email from my lawyer finally arrived. The divorce papers. I opened the file, signed my name without a moment’s hesitation, and asked him to have a physical copy delivered. I don’t know how long she’d been standing there, but suddenly Evelyn was behind me, a confused frown on her face. “Who’s getting a divorce?” “A friend,” I said, my voice flat, my expression unmoving. The tension instantly drained from her shoulders. She let out a knowing little laugh. “I figured,” she said. “Your father is dead. Your mother is drowning in debt from a lifetime of charity, needing her son’s wife just to pay her hospital bills. What right could you possibly have to ask for a divorce? I was worried for nothing.” Every word was a razor blade slicing me open. I said nothing. Her tone softened slightly. “As long as you play the part of my husband and stop with these baseless suspicions, I can give you anything you want.” She turned to leave, tossing one last comment over her shoulder. “The company’s promotion ceremony is tomorrow. It wouldn’t look right if you didn’t go.” For a split second, my heart fluttered. A foolish, desperate part of me fantasized that she was going to acknowledge my five years of hard work. I stayed up all night preparing a speech. I tried on the custom-tailored suit she had bought for me. The next day, the banquet hall was buzzing, glasses clinking. I stepped inside, and the condescending stares that met me wiped the practiced smile right off my face. Up on the brightly lit stage, Evelyn personally announced Liam as the new director. My replacement. “Oh, good, you’re here,” she said, her eyes finding me in the crowd. Her tone was casual, breezy. “If Liam has any questions moving forward, you can help him out. You’ll have plenty of free time at home, might as well do something useful.” A wave of snickers rippled through the room. The whispers found their way to my ears. “Looks like we were right. There’s no place for him at the company anymore.” “Not just the company. I bet there won’t be a place for him in the family for much longer either.” “He used to be Mr. Walker, Director Walker, throwing his weight around. Now look at him. He’s nothing! Ha!” … Evelyn heard them. She had to have heard them. She didn’t say a word to defend me. She stepped down from the stage and leaned in close, her voice a low murmur. “This promotion was Liam’s birthday wish. I had to make it happen.” “Besides,” she added, “you won’t have to work so hard anymore. Isn’t it better to just stay home?” She asked it so matter-of-factly, so certain I would just nod and agree. “But I…” But I poured my soul into this for five years to get to this point. She didn’t have the patience to hear me finish. She was already turning away, taking Liam by the arm to introduce him to industry executives, to all the important players. Just like she used to do with me. But that was then. She handed my project proposals to Liam, coaching him line by line on how to handle the executives’ toughest questions. The whole thing was a grotesque farce. I couldn’t stand it for another second. As I turned to leave, Liam’s voice stopped me. “Ryan,” he said, grabbing my arm, his grip deliberately tight. “You’re not mad at me for taking your job, are you? Please don’t hate me.” The innocent, grateful boy my mother had sponsored was gone. In his place was this… thing, his eyes glinting with provocation. I looked down, a bitter laugh escaping my lips, then met his gaze. “My mother sponsored you, paid for your college, supported you and your mom. It wasn’t so you could steal my wife.” The smile on Liam’s face froze for an instant, then returned, wider and uglier. “Well, may the best man win.” With that, he let out a sharp cry and stumbled backward, collapsing right into Evelyn’s arms. “Evelyn,” he whimpered, “seeing Ryan… it’s bringing back all the nightmares from college.” His voice broke. “His mother… she took advantage of me! She used the sponsorship as an excuse to…” The room erupted. Every head turned, every pair of eyes stared at me, filled with shock and disgust. My nerves screamed. My voice rose an octave. “What are you talking about? My mom would never do something like that!” Liam just clung to Evelyn, trembling like a frightened child. “I was always too scared to say anything,” he sobbed. “But now that Ryan’s not at the company anymore… I finally feel safe enough to tell the truth…” Evelyn’s head snapped up. Her eyes were chips of ice. I stared at her, my brow furrowed in disbelief. “You believe him?” Her gaze was venomous. “Your mother,” she said, each word a hammer blow, “knows exactly what she did.” And just like that, it was fact. In the eyes of everyone there, my mother was a predator. And I was her son. “Using charity as a cover for that? What kind of monster does that?” “And him? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” “No wonder he was always going after Liam. He was afraid the truth would come out!” “To think someone like that was working right beside us. It’s terrifying.” The faces around me twisted into ugly masks. The accusations rained down. I shook my head, helpless. “No, you’re wrong. My mom would never…” I lunged for Liam, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. “Tell them! Tell them the truth! My mom gave up everything for you! She went without new clothes, she worked while she was sick, just so you could go to college!” A hand shoved me back. It was Evelyn, her face a cold, hard mask of fury. “How dare you threaten him to change his story?” she snarled. “Liam is a good, honest person. Why would he ever lie about something that shames him like this? I think you’re just angry you got caught!” Right there, in front of everyone, she pulled out her phone and called the hospital. “Stop all payments for my husband’s mother’s care, effective immediately. A person like that doesn’t deserve to live.” My world collapsed. Wine glasses and pieces of cake flew through the air, pelting me. The words “predator’s son” echoed from all sides. “His mother doesn’t deserve to live, and neither does he!” “Just go die already!” Fists and palms rained down on my face. They spat on me. Someone slashed my cheek with a broken piece of a glass. Through the chaos, Evelyn started to move toward me, but Liam let out a sudden cry of pain. “My head… it hurts so much! I think… I think I see him coming for me…” Without a second thought, Evelyn had someone hoist Liam up and rush him to the hospital. The shouts and curses around me faded into a dull roar. All I could see was my mother’s face, her expression of anguish when she heard the lie. Amid the kicks and punches, I fumbled for my phone, desperately dialing the hospital. The voice on the other end was calm, clinical. “Mr. Walker, I’m very sorry for your loss. Your mother received several abusive phone calls a short while ago. Her heart gave out. She passed away moments ago.” The fight drained out of me. I went limp, letting the blows fall where they may. The voice on the phone said to “take care,” but I couldn’t shed a single tear. I don’t know how much time passed. The crowd eventually dispersed. My phone rang. It was Evelyn. “I’ve sent some money to your mother’s account. She won’t die just yet. As for the truth, we’ll let the police handle it.” Her voice was tired. “I think you’ve caused enough trouble. Stay home and think about what you’ve done. I won’t be back for three days.” “Okay,” I whispered into the phone. After hanging up, I deleted her number. I deleted everything. I went home, picked up my packed suitcase, and placed the signed divorce papers on the coffee table. I said goodbye to the home I had lived in for nearly ten years. One last stop. I picked up my mother’s ashes from the hospital and boarded a flight that night. Evelyn, this is goodbye. For good. Three days later, Evelyn came home carrying groceries and a bouquet of fresh flowers. The moment she pushed open the door, she froze.

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1 Three years ago, that ridiculous game of Truth or Dare completely derailed the lives of Blake and I. Her childhood friend suddenly proposed a cruel wager, claiming he wanted to test the authenticity of our love. The condition was that after our divorce, we wouldn’t see each other for three years. I honestly thought she’d refuse such an outrageous demand. After all, we’d argued about it countless times. Her inappropriate closeness with her childhood friend had always been a thorn in our side. But she agreed without hesitation, even confidently telling everyone that she believed I was hers for life and we’d remarry in three years. I remained silent then, knowing in my heart that it was the last chance I’d ever give her. Now, three years have passed. She stands before me, a bouquet of roses in her arms, a confident smile on her face as she calls me “honey” and says she kept her word, she’s back for our remarriage. … Blake’s lips curved into a confident, slight smirk. “Are you mad?” “Alright, alright, I’m here, aren’t I?” “Come on, don’t be mad.” Her voice was sweet, doting, assuming I was just being childish and upset for attention. Just like old times, she reached out to embrace me. I took another step back, my expression hardening. “Ms. Blake, please keep your distance!” Her hand froze in mid-air, her gentle gaze still fixed on my face. “Really mad this time, huh?” “Name your price. Whatever it takes to make it up to you, I’ll do it.” She still confidently believed that a few sweet words would win me over, just like before. As she spoke, she took another step closer. Each step she took, I mirrored, retreating further. The conquering glint in her eyes intensified. “Blake, three years is a long time. Enough to change many things.” She nodded in agreement. “Indeed.” I backed up until I hit the wall, no more room to maneuver, my back pressed against the cool plaster. She placed her hands on either side of my head, cornering me, playing that old game again. Back when we were dating, she loved to pin me against a wall like this, kissing me deeply under the moonlight. Three years ago, after losing the dare, she’d divorced me at her friend’s insistence. Three years of no contact, not a single text or call. And now, she presumes I’d just sit around, waiting for her to come back and remarry me! A cynical smile touched my lips. Before I could speak, her phone rang. She pulled it out. The screen displayed a contact: “My Little Prince.” It was her special name for Brody. I’d seen it countless times, just as I’d seen her lovingly stroke his head, saying he’d always been her “little prince” since they were kids! Completely oblivious to my feelings as her husband then. She answered immediately. “Vivi, boo hoo hoo, come quick, my stomach hurts so bad.” Brody’s whiny cry came through the phone. Blake’s eyes instantly filled with worry. “Don’t be scared, I’m coming right back.” She hung up, then quickly brushed her hand over the top of my head, as if soothing a docile cat. “I need to check on Brody first. I’ll come find you later.” Before the words fully registered, she was gone. Brody, ever the showman, flaunted their relationship on social media, as he always did. The photo showed him lying with a sweat-drenched forehead on Blake’s lap. She was gently rubbing his stomach. His caption read: “She’s always loved me most, ever since we were kids. No matter how important the event, or how important the person, if I’m not feeling well, she’s always the first to rush to my side, offering care and love. She truly is the best woman in the world!!!” I casually tapped the ‘like’ button. Not just on this one, but on every single one of his posts over the past three years. Three years, 1095 posts showing off their “love,” and I’d liked them 1095 times. He found new ways to show them off every day. For instance, he didn’t work; Blake gave him a secondary credit card to spend as he pleased. He could live in the house Blake and I once shared. My belongings, he’d use if he wanted, or toss if he didn’t. In these three years, he and Blake had done everything a couple would do. I knew he posted them specifically for me to see. Each ‘like’ was my way of showing contempt and indifference. But Brody, in his warped mind, thought I was jealous, furious, desperately trying to get attention. The next time I saw Blake, she was with Brody, drinking coffee at my café. They wore matching caramel-colored outfits. Blake, who usually favored formal business attire, was dressed in trendy, casual clothes today. I used to suggest we wear matching outfits, but she’d always say she was used to suits and didn’t want to change her style. Brody surveyed my café with a look of surprise. Blake, puzzled, asked me, “I gave you so much money, why are you doing such hard work?” When we divorced, I asked for half of our assets. She gave them without a moment’s hesitation. I stopped making the coffee, my gaze flat as I looked at her. “Because I want to. And it’s none of your business.” Blake’s expression didn’t change. She still thought I was just mad at her. Brody offered a disingenuous greeting. “Hey, Ash, long time no see. How’s it going?” “Good.” Brody seemed surprised by my calm. Blake’s phone rang, and she turned to step outside to take the call. With just Brody and me left, his pretense dropped. His smile transformed into a triumphant sneer of provocation. “Don’t play hard to get. But don’t get too happy either.” He looked down on me, a slight chuckle on his lips. “Even if you remarry Vivi this time, what good will it do?!” “Her mother doesn’t like you. Her ideal son-in-law has always been me.” “Vivi only wants to remarry you out of a sense of obligation.” “Even this remarriage, she sought my approval first.” “And you’ll have to sign a prenuptial agreement.” “Oh, and I personally drafted that agreement.” He pulled a prenuptial agreement from his bag and placed it in front of me. I glanced at it dismissively. One clause stated that all of the Blake family’s assets were none of my concern. After marriage, I wasn’t allowed to call Blake’s mother “Mom,” only “Madam.” In public, I couldn’t claim to be the patriarch of the Blake family; I had to declare myself merely her ex-husband. These outrageous terms made me laugh sardonically. I pushed the agreement back to him. “If Blake’s mother likes you so much, why are you still without a title?” “Three years, and Blake still hasn’t committed to you. How pathetic.” Brody, furious and embarrassed, instinctively raised his hand to slap me. But just then, Blake’s approaching footsteps sounded behind him. He changed his expression faster than flipping a page, tears welling up, a mix of aggrieved and understanding. “Ash, I truly hope you can remarry Vivi.” “As her childhood friend, I just want her to be happy.” “This prenuptial agreement is just a formality. Don’t be mad, okay?” He was still as dramatic as he was three years ago. The moment Blake saw him cry, her mind would turn to mush, unable to distinguish right from wrong. “Brody, what’s wrong?” Blake pulled him closer, her eyes filled with concern for him. Brody shook his head, feigning a wronged expression. “Nothing, it’s my fault. Don’t blame Ash.” The more he spoke like this, the more Blake believed I’d bullied him. “Ash!” she snapped, her face cold. “Apologize!” Her tone was an undeniable command, like ordering a servant. A cold laugh touched my lips. She frowned in displeasure and chastised me. “Brody and I grew up together, he’s like a brother to me!” “He’s a very important person to me. Can you please stop being so hostile towards him every time!” “Even if it’s for my sake, can you be kinder to him, please?!” My face remained expressionless. I’d seen this scene countless times over the past three years. I was utterly sick of it! Just as I was about to ask them to leave, my phone on the counter vibrated with a video call. The screen displayed: “My Sweetheart Daughter.” I quickly grabbed the phone, and my two-year-old daughter’s adorable face appeared in the video. “Daddy, I miss you.” I quickly exchanged a few words with her. As Blake reached for my phone to talk to my daughter, I ended the call. “What daughter?! Ash, you have a daughter?!” Blake’s eyes widened. She reached for my phone again, but I dodged her. My face was cold as I spoke to her seriously once more. “Don’t bother me. You two are twisted, crazy people!” She didn’t get angry; instead, she just indulged her self-serving belief. “Alright, don’t be mad.” “I know you’re doing this to annoy me. That call was on purpose, wasn’t it?” I instantly understood that a person as self-absorbed as her wouldn’t believe I no longer loved her until she saw my wife with her own eyes. Suddenly, she spoke to me. “Mom’s birthday is in a few days.” “Your cooking is excellent. Prepare some of her favorite dishes.” “Use this opportunity to mend your relationship with her.” So, she knew. During our three years of marriage, I had been bullied by her mother for three years. Blake’s mother looked down on me, someone from a humble background. Even though I was Blake’s legal husband, Blake’s mother never allowed me to attend any Blake family dinners. In fact, if she was present, I wasn’t allowed to sit at the table. I didn’t like her either. Our relationship was precarious, a mutual state of ignoring each other. In that dynamic, Blake had always remained silent. A mocking curve touched my lips. I deliberately asked, “Blake, just hypothetically.” “What if I cooked a feast, and your mother still wouldn’t let me sit at the table?” She hesitated before replying, “You’re the junior, just say a few nice words to butter her up.” “You know how my mom is. All bark, no bite.” Brody deliberately suggested, “Ash, it’s not beneath a junior to beg an elder. Madam is most susceptible to being begged on her knees.” He was being sarcastic, implying I should kneel. I chuckled derisively, my eyes fixed on Blake’s dark ones, my voice serious and earnest. “Blake, three years. Things have long changed.” “I’m married, and I have a child.” Then, I turned to Brody. “Perhaps you should do more begging. You might just get into the Blake family.” Brody burst into tears, feigning distress. “It’s my fault for speaking out of turn.” He covered his mouth and ran out. Blake’s face suddenly turned ugly. She snapped at me, “How much longer are you going to be stubborn?!” Then she rushed out to chase Brody. My phone vibrated. It was a text from my wife: “Honey, project finished. Home tomorrow afternoon.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought, once Blake saw Eleanor herself, she wouldn’t be so self-absorbed about me anymore. The next day, as soon as I arrived at the café, the preschool teacher suddenly called. She said my daughter had been taken by someone claiming to be her biological mother and godfather. My heart leaped into my throat. I raced to the Blake family estate. There, I saw Brody had put my daughter in a dog kennel, playing with dogs and cats. My daughter was allergic to animal fur. She couldn’t touch either dogs or cats. My daughter was crying uncontrollably, her face flushed to her neck. Red allergy spots were already appearing on her neck. Brody ignored my daughter’s distress. Instead, he pushed the cat towards my daughter’s arms. “Don’t be scared, Annie. This cat is three years old, so she’s like your big sister.” “She’s your godfather’s favorite cat. Give her a hug, don’t be rude. Crying so loudly will scare the kitty.” My daughter raised her hands in fear, trying to avoid it. The black cat’s sharp claws scratched several marks on my daughter’s face. My daughter cried even louder. Brody said gently, “You’ve scared the cat,” but his eyes held a threatening glint as he glared at my daughter. “Who told you to touch my daughter?!” I charged forward, enraged. I was just about to reach for my daughter when Blake suddenly appeared, wrapping her arms around me from behind, pulling me back a few steps. “Brody was just being kind, trying to give her more playmates.” “Ash, you adopted this child, didn’t you? It must be hard raising her alone.” My eyes were bloodshot with fury. I spun around and slapped her. A clear handprint bloomed on her face, which was already on the verge of “cracking.” “My daughter is allergic to cat and dog fur!” “Her playmates are never animals!” I turned again to pick up my daughter, but Blake grabbed my wrist with a firm grip. Brody wore a pitifully innocent expression as he looked at me. “It’s my cat’s third birthday today. She really likes playing with kids.” “I just thought, with Annie coming back to the Blake family, they should get acquainted first.” As he spoke, his black cat clawed wildly at my daughter. It left crisscrossing scratch marks on my daughter’s arms, neck, and face. He deliberately added, “Don’t worry, my cats and dogs are regularly vaccinated. They’re very clean.” “I even sleep with my cat every day.” Seeing my daughter’s face, crying so hard she was almost gasping for breath, my heart raced with anxiety. I struggled against Blake’s grip. She held me tighter, soothingly. “Children shouldn’t be raised too delicately.” “The Blake family fortune will be hers someday. We need to build her courage, she shouldn’t be afraid of a mere cat.” Suddenly, my daughter’s eyes closed, and she collapsed. I screamed in panic, “She’s going into anaphylactic shock!” Blake finally realized the seriousness of the situation. I rushed over, picked up my daughter, and ran to the hospital. Blake and Brody followed. While my daughter was being treated in the emergency room, the doctor handed me a consent form for risks. “Please, the child’s father or mother needs to sign this.” Blake eagerly spoke up. “I’m the child’s mother. I’ll sign it!” As she reached for the consent form, a commanding voice echoed from behind. “Since when was my daughter your daughter?!”

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I once believed the five years Victor gave me were a testament to true love. He laid the best of the world at my feet. It wasn’t until I was holding the positive pregnancy test, bursting with joy and ready to surprise him, that I stumbled upon the truth. Everything he had done, every grand gesture, was a calculated move to help his sister steal the man I truly loved. When I confronted him, Victor offered me two choices, as if tossing scraps to a beggar: take ten million dollars and disappear forever, or pretend nothing had happened and continue to bask in the warmth of his “love.” Everyone thought I would choose the latter. After all, I had loved him so deeply. But without a moment’s hesitation, I chose the money. That’s when Victor truly panicked. He grabbed my hand, his voice cracking as he pleaded, “Zoe, why can’t you just love me one more time?” I pulled my hand away and told him, my voice calm and steady, “Victor, I don’t want you anymore. This time, I’m choosing to love myself.” 1 For thirty consecutive days, Victor had sent me extravagant, one-of-a-kind gifts. Today, he burst through the door covered in blood, cradling a single, delicate flower in his hands. I recognized it. It was the same type of flower that had been the only splash of color in our bleak world that winter we lived under a bridge. “Zoe, the flower, it bloomed again! I brought it back for you!” His face was alight with a desperate hope, as if this single blossom could erase all the darkness between us. I watched him, my expression a mask of ice. The light in his eyes slowly died. Without a word, he forced a smile, found a vase, and placed the flower on the windowsill where I often sat. I wanted to tell him that his smile was more painful to look at than any tears. Two of his bodyguards rushed in after him, their faces etched with anxiety. “Mr. Augustine, you’re injured! You need to go to the hospital, now!” A drop of blood trickled from his forehead and landed on a pristine white petal. “Zoe, I’ll wipe it off,” he said, his voice frantic. His hands were smeared with blood. I remembered that winter, how he had tried to pick one of those flowers for me then, too. He’d scratched his hands and twisted his ankle in the process. I had thought those were scars of our love. Now I knew they were just part of the act, another scene in the play designed to win my devotion. My gaze was cold. The crimson on the white petal was jarring. “Don’t bother,” I said. “Once it’s stained, it’s stained.” I turned to my housekeeper. “Mrs. Gable, throw it out.” Victor’s hand froze mid-air. His face went white as he watched Mrs. Gable take the vase and toss the flower out the window. He wanted to stop her, but he was powerless. He turned back to me, that painful smile returning. “Zoe, I’ll… I’ll come back tomorrow?” It was a placating question, an attempt to pretend this horror wasn’t happening, just as he had always done after hurting me. The once-dashing tycoon, now covered in mud and blood, looked pathetic. I sighed, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “Victor, don’t come back. I never want to see you again.” He stumbled, as if every ounce of strength had been drained from his body. But his guards caught him, and he managed to straighten up, that awful smile still plastered on his face. “You must be tired, Zoe. Get some rest.” Then, as if fearing another rejection, he practically fled. Mrs. Gable looked from his retreating back to me, then went outside and retrieved the flower, placing it back on the windowsill. “I don’t know what happened between you two,” she said, her tone reproachful, “but I can see that Mr. Augustine is truly sorry. He really loves you. Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive him?” I looked at her, my smile full of a weary sadness. “But, Mrs. Gable,” I whispered, “I don’t have the chance to forgive him anymore.” That very morning, I had lost my sense of taste completely. 2 Five years ago, two men stood before me, and I chose Victor. We were together for five years. At our lowest, we lived under a bridge, scavenged for food, and slept under the open sky. I was with him through poverty and despair, all the way to his triumphant return, when he reclaimed his family’s empire. For those five years, he would have given me the stars from the sky and the moon from the water. He made his devotion to me a public spectacle, a love so grand it overshadowed even the affection he had for his precious sister, Amelia. I believed it was real. Until… The day I found out I was pregnant. I rushed to find him, the test results clutched in my hand, ready to share the joyful surprise. But I found him with Amelia wrapped in his arms. “Victor,” she was saying, “Noah finally proposed! Thank you. If you hadn’t sacrificed yourself to win over Zoe, I might have waited forever for this day!” Victor stroked her hair, his smile gentle. “As long as you’re happy, my sacrifice was worth it.” A lightning bolt struck, and all the strength drained out of me. The pregnancy test slipped from my fingers, but I felt nothing. [Host, you have failed.] Years ago, I had gone against the System’s warnings and changed my mission target to him. The System had been clear: [He is not your destined one. Failure to complete the mission will result in your annihilation.] I had traversed many worlds, completed many missions. This was the first time I had ever let personal feelings interfere. “I want to make a choice for myself, just once,” I had told the System. I lost. I accept that. But… I laid a hand on my flat stomach. A new life was growing there, a life I had yearned for. “Can’t you…” [No! You know the rules!] I laughed, covering my eyes as hot tears streamed through my fingers. 3 In the private room, everyone was celebrating Amelia’s engagement and Victor’s “liberation.” “Vic, once Amelia marries into the Sterling family, Zoe will be useless. What are you going to do with her?” “Hey, how about you give her to me? I’m not ambitious. I just want a taste of the woman who could captivate Noah Sterling and keep you entertained for five years…” “Get lost!” Laughter filled the room. My tears had run dry. I looked at the people inside and pushed the door open. The room fell silent. When they saw it was me, strange, knowing smiles spread across their faces. I’d seen those smiles before, but only now did I understand their true meaning. It was the look of the wealthy elite observing a plaything they had tired of. Victor’s hand, holding a glass of wine, paused. He looked at me, his eyes devoid of emotion. “You heard?” “Yes.” “How much?” “Everything.” A brief, tense silence. Everyone looked at Victor, waiting to see how he would dispose of his “plaything.” He set his glass down, his voice cold and unfamiliar. “Two choices. One, take ten million dollars and disappear. Never show your face in front of Noah Sterling again. We go our separate ways.” “Or two…” He paused, walking over to me. He gently stroked my hair, the coldness in his eyes replaced by a deep, seductive affection. “You can choose to stay with me. We’ll pretend this never happened. I’ll continue to be good to you.” The same old tenderness, as if nothing had changed. Amelia couldn’t help but let out a sneer. “Zoe, you really are pathetic.” Everyone, including Victor, probably thought I would choose the second option. After all, I had loved him so much. I had stayed with him when he had nothing, living under a bridge for six months, surviving on instant noodles for three, ruining my health to the point that getting pregnant was a miracle. I looked at the man I had loved with all my heart for five years and managed a faint smile. I took a step back, out of the warmth of his hand, away from the embrace I had once craved. “I choose option one.” 4 The answer stunned everyone. Victor’s face changed, his hand freezing in mid-air before slowly clenching into a fist. By the time he tucked it into his pocket, his expression was once again cool and detached. I suppose it didn’t really matter to him. One plaything gone, another could be found. He was a prince, after all, his pride untouchable. “Since it’s your choice, I respect it.” I walked out of that room like a zombie. … Back at the villa, I began to put my affairs in order. That evening, Victor arrived with his friends to move his things out. “This villa was bought for you,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s yours.” I didn’t look up, just grunted in acknowledgment. He stood there for a long moment, waiting for a reaction. When he got none, he stormed upstairs, the sounds of him packing echoing through the house like angry thunder. I ignored it. I was busy writing, trying to jot everything down before my memory failed me completely. Mrs. Gable had taken care of this house for years. She was getting older and had arthritis. I would leave most of the cash to her, hoping she could live out her remaining years in comfort. My neighbor, a woman starting her own business, needed designer clothes and bags to make a good impression. She had borrowed from me before, always returning them with a small gift, her face flushed with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. I understood her struggle. I had been there, too. Victor had bought me countless designer items over the years, most of which I’d never even used. They would all go to her. The jewelry, I decided, would be donated to charity. I doubted Victor would object. My biggest worry was Pip. He was a stray dog we’d adopted during our time under the bridge. A scruffy mutt of indeterminate heritage, with a perpetually messy coat, a bad temper, and a comical underbite. If I was gone, what would happen to him? Who would tolerate his moods, who would love him despite his scruffy appearance? Pip and Victor had been close. I considered leaving him with Victor, but Amelia despised him. She only liked purebred show dogs and would openly kick Pip away if he got too close, even in front of me. If I were gone, all it would take was a word from her, and Victor would probably abandon him. Pip was old. How long would he survive on the streets? I stroked the fur of the dog curled at my feet. “Maybe you should come with me, Pip? At least you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore…” For a moment, I understood the mothers in the news who took their own lives and their children’s with them. I quickly pushed the horrifying thought away. I would ask my friends at the dog park. Surely one of them would take him. Lastly, I signed an organ donation form. In the end, I would leave nothing of myself behind in this world.

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1 The day my grandson was admitted, I jolted awake—back before it all fell apart. My daughter-in-law, Evelyn, died in the line of duty when Toby was just one. My son, Daniel, and I raised him. He was our whole world. Just before the holiday, I’d arranged for a specialist to do Toby’s surgery. I personally handed the doctor ninety-nine thousand dollars. But that night, Daniel’s voice thundered over the phone: “Dad! Toby’s surgery is tomorrow—why haven’t you paid?!” I didn’t question how the money disappeared. I just wired it again. The next day, the hospital still claimed they hadn’t received payment and were canceling the surgery. Sweating, I pulled the doctor to the billing office. The clerk showed my balance: zero. The specialist scowled. “If you don’t want the surgery, just say so. Don’t waste my time.” Terrified of delaying Toby’s care, I withdrew cash that evening and delivered it myself. But it was too late. The next day, my grandson died because his surgery was postponed. Daniel clutched Toby’s cold little body, sobbing, “Dad, did you hate him that much?” That night, my son set a fire and burned us all alive. Even as the flames took me, I still didn’t understand why the hospital never got my money. … “Grandpa, will the surgery hurt?” A gentle touch on my leg brought me back. I looked down at my grandson’s pale little face and pulled him into a hug, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. He was so small. How could he have died on that cold hospital bed? My mind raced. Why did the money I gave the hospital vanish into thin air? I had checked the card myself. With that thought, I grabbed my son and marched him to the nearest ATM. I confirmed the card held over $100,000 for the treatment. Only then did I feel a sliver of relief. Together, we went to the billing office and handed the card to the clerk on duty. “We’ve paid the fee,” I said, my voice trembling with hope. “Does this mean he can have the surgery tomorrow?” I watched with my own eyes as the clerk processed the payment. A wave of relief washed over me. “Thank God. My grandson is going to be okay.” Daniel wrapped his arms around me. “Dad, thank goodness you’re here.” Toby had a rare disease, and our only hope was a consulting surgeon from Chicago. She was a kind woman who refused any extra payment, only urging me to settle the hospital fees quickly. I just never understood why, in my past life, there was never any record of my payment, letting my grandson’s life slip away. This time, I wouldn’t let history repeat itself. I sent Daniel home to rest and stayed at the hospital by Toby’s side. The next morning, I woke to my phone ringing. It was Daniel, his voice frantic. “Dad, there’s no money on your card! The hospital just called and said I need to pay immediately. If we don’t pay soon, they’re going to cancel his spot!” For a moment, I thought I was mishearing him, trapped in a nightmare. How could the same thing be happening all over again? Before I could hang up, a doctor walked into the room. “You need to go pay the fee now, or it will be too late for the surgery.” I didn’t have time to think. I bolted for the billing office. But when the clerk pulled up my account, the balance was zero. Impossible. Daniel and I had just checked it yesterday! I made the clerk print out the account statement, checking it word by word. It was correct. There was just no money. “There’s something shady going on in this hospital!” I yelled, slamming my hand on the counter. “The card I gave you yesterday was loaded! Give me back my money! That’s my grandson’s lifeline!” The other families in line turned to stare. The clerk’s face flushed with anger. “Don’t make wild accusations, sir. Our system is monitored. We couldn’t take a cent of your money if we wanted to! Look for yourself, you haven’t paid a single bill since you were admitted. We were being generous just letting you stay!” He gestured to the line behind me. “There are other people waiting. Can you please not cause a scene?” The other families, assuming I was harassing the clerk, started to shove me away. I was an old man; I couldn’t argue with a crowd. They pushed me out, and I stood there helplessly, my mind a complete blank. The clerk sighed and led me back to his office. He opened the main system. “Sir, look for yourself. It shows no payment has been made.” “I came here yesterday afternoon,” I pleaded, shaking my head. “Check the security footage. I was really here, with my son. We even checked the balance at the ATM first.” He reluctantly submitted a request to his supervisor. The logs confirmed that I had indeed come to the billing office. But the cameras had a blind spot; they couldn’t confirm if the card I’d handed over was the same one we’d checked at the ATM. I wouldn’t give up. The clerk’s patience wore thin. “Sir, if you’re still concerned, you should call the police.” That’s what I was thinking. The police could see details others missed. But before I could dial, Daniel’s call came through. “Dad, you’ve ruined everything,” he choked out. “The surgeon just booked a flight back to Chicago. It leaves in two hours. My son’s surgery is off!” I ran like a madman to the inpatient wing and caught the surgeon just as she was getting into the elevator. She was pulling a suitcase, a look of annoyance on her face. “Sir, it’s not that I don’t want to save your grandson, but the hospital says you haven’t paid. I can’t very well fund the surgery myself, can I?” I grabbed the handle of her suitcase, tears streaming down my face. “Doctor, please, give us one more chance. I’ll pay right now. I’ll do a direct transfer this time, so there’s a record!” She hesitated, glancing at her watch. “My flight boards in an hour and a half. If you can get it done before then, I’ll cancel my ticket.” I thanked her profusely and sprinted back towards the billing office, calling my son on the way. “Daniel, send me your account number! I’ll transfer the money to you directly, and you go pay!” His voice trembled. “Dad, isn’t your card empty?” “It’s not! The hospital’s system is messed up. I’m sending you the money now. The second you get it, go to the billing office. I’m heading there too.” I hung up, opened my banking app, and transferred the last of my savings—over eighty thousand dollars—plus another twenty I’d borrowed from relatives. I sent the full one hundred thousand to Daniel’s account. I took a screenshot and saved it. Panting, I reached the billing office and slapped the counter. “My son is coming to pay right now! Please, hold my grandson’s spot for the surgery!” The clerk looked up. It was the same one from yesterday. He sighed. “Sir, there really is no money in your account. Our system…” “I know, I know! We’re not using that account. My son is paying with his card directly.” Just then, my phone rang. It was Daniel. “Dad, how much did you send?” “One hundred thousand exactly. Did you get it?” He checked his phone. “Got it!” he said, a wave of relief in his voice. “I’m on my way to pay now!” The clerk looked relieved too. “Then have him hurry over.” Ten minutes later, Daniel arrived. I urged him to the counter. The clerk took the card, inserted it into the machine, and immediately pulled it out. “There are no funds on this card. Try another one.” Daniel froze, then shot me a furious glare. “Dad, when are you going to stop this nonsense? You said you transferred the money, but you were just lying to me again!” “But you just said you received it…” I stammered. “That was the pension payment for Evelyn’s fallen colleague!” he roared. “It wasn’t your money at all!” He shoved me aside and stormed back toward the ward. “Your system has to be the problem!” I yelled, grabbing the clerk. “You saw me transfer the money to my son! How can the card be empty the moment you touch it?” The clerk stood up, his face cold. “Sir, if you continue to cause a disturbance, I will call the police.” “Go ahead! Let the police see how your hospital steals a patient’s life savings!” The police arrived quickly. They calmed me down, then logged into the system and contacted the bank to verify my transaction history. The truth came out swiftly. “Sir, you’re mistaken,” the officer said gently. “Your account has no recent transfer records. Your behavior constitutes a public disturbance, but considering your age and the circumstances, the hospital has agreed not to press charges. Please, just focus on getting the money for the surgery.” I collapsed. How could this be happening? Where did my money go? Daniel, hearing the commotion, rushed back, his face a mask of fury. “Dad, can you just stop?! My son is sick, I can barely eat or sleep, and you’re making these scenes! If I hadn’t donated all my savings, I wouldn’t need you to pay for this! If you keep this up, you can stop being my father!” I grabbed his arm desperately. “I’m not making a scene! I really did transfer the money! Son, when have I ever lied to you?” He hesitated for a second, but his anger quickly returned. “Should I believe you, or should I believe the system? You know what, ever since Mom died, you’ve gotten stranger and stranger. I’ll figure this out myself. I don’t need you.” He was the child I had cherished my entire life. His words, “I don’t need you,” shattered me. I grabbed him and pulled him towards the exit. “Cash! Son, we’ll get cash and pay. There can’t be any problems then!” I dragged him into the bank. He was fuming, but he followed me to the counter. I slapped my passbook on the counter. “I need to withdraw one hundred thousand dollars. All of it. In cash.” This was my retirement account. It was the last of my money. The teller looked at me, typed a few things into her computer, and confirmed, “Sir, your account balance is $100,370. You’d like to withdraw an even one hundred thousand?” I nodded, my fingers digging into the edge of the counter. She counted the bills, bundled them, and placed a thick stack of currency in the tray. “Please count it, sir.” I didn’t. I pushed it toward my son. “You count it.” He stared for a moment, then counted it, bundle by bundle. “$100,000. It’s all here.” I stuffed the money into a canvas bag, clutched it to my chest, and ran with him back to the hospital. It was the same clerk at the billing office. I put the bag on the counter and pulled out the stacks of cash. “One hundred thousand dollars. Cash. You see it? Now give me a receipt. My grandson’s surgery cannot be delayed again.” The clerk looked at me, then at the money. He ran a few stacks through the bill counter. Everything checked out. He nodded, typed into his computer, and handed me a thin payment voucher. “Alright, it’s paid. I’ll make a note on the surgical schedule. Just wait for the notification.” I held that flimsy piece of paper, my hands shaking. I turned and threw my arms around my son, the tears finally coming. “Daniel, look! It’s paid! Toby is saved!” Daniel cried too, holding me tight. That night, I stayed by Toby’s bedside, not daring to leave for a second. He slept soundly, his little hand wrapped around my finger. Seeing him like that, I saw a vision of Daniel as a child, so small, clinging to my hand when he had a fever, refusing to let me go. If Toby could just get through this, he would grow up strong, just like his father. My heart filled with hope. I didn’t sleep a wink. I stared at the clock on my phone, praying for morning, for the nurse to come with the surgery time. Just as the sky began to lighten, I heard footsteps in the hall. Thinking it was the nurse, I jumped to my feet. The door opened. It was Daniel. His face was as white as a sheet, his eyes red and swollen. He was clutching his phone, looking completely hollowed out. “Dad.” My heart seized. “When is the surgery?” He didn’t answer. He just handed me his phone. On the screen was a text message from the hospital: 【Dear patient family, your surgical fees have not yet been paid. Please proceed to the billing office as soon as possible to avoid treatment delays.】 I stared in disbelief. “That’s impossible! I paid $100,000 in cash yesterday! They gave me a receipt!” Daniel angrily pulled the hospital payment card from his bag and threw it at me. “I checked this morning! There’s not a single cent in the account! This is your fault! You told me to deposit the money into this account! Why didn’t you tell me there was a problem with it? Why did you have to risk Toby’s surgery?” The phone buzzed. A message from the surgeon: 【Sir, I’m sorry, I can’t wait any longer. The surgery is canceled. I wish your son a speedy recovery.】 Down the hall, I heard the sound of a suitcase rolling away, growing fainter and fainter. Daniel sank to the floor, covered his face, and let out a strangled sob. “Dad, if Toby… if he doesn’t make it because of this… I will never, ever forgive you! I hate you!” I stood frozen, a chill spreading through my entire body. His words were knives, but I didn’t have time for the pain. I immediately called the surgeon. “Doctor, please, just one more chance. I’ll sell my house. I’ll have the money then. I swear I’ll pay the fee.” There was a pause on the other end. “Sir, do you know how many times I’ve rescheduled my flight? Four times. I have other patients to save. This back and forth… are you truly serious about getting your child treatment, or…?” She didn’t finish, but her meaning was clear. “I swear, Doctor,” I begged. “This time it’s real. I’m going to sell the house right now. Just give me one more day. Just one.” A sigh. “Alright. One last day.” I didn’t have time to grieve. After promising Daniel I’d fix it, I rushed to the police station. But after reviewing everything, they found nothing wrong. By the time I left, it was dark. I thought of the relatives I’d borrowed from and started calling. “Arthur, I heard what happened. You need to take care of that boy, stop making up these wild stories.” “Your son told me everything. You knew you had no money, but you insisted the hospital stole it and even got the police involved. Arthur, are you getting senile?” “Let me give you some advice. Be good to that child. Otherwise, you’ll end up old and alone with no one to even bury you.” Every single one of them refused me. I squatted on the sidewalk and cried for a long time. When I stood up, the world tilted. I almost collapsed. Late that night, I finally made it back to my small rental apartment. Daniel and Toby lived in the small house I’d bought for them, the down payment made with my life’s savings, the deed in my son’s name. As dawn broke, an idea came to me. I washed my face and went back to the hospital. Daniel was sitting by the bed, staring at me. His eyes were lifeless, as if he’d been completely hollowed out. I didn’t notice. I was too consumed by my plan. “Daniel, I have an idea.” He looked up, no light in his eyes. “We can take out a mortgage on your house,” I said, the words tumbling out. “We’ll pay it back as soon as I get my money back.” “It’s no use…” he mumbled. “What are you talking about? If we just try one more time, we can save Toby!” I insisted. “Go, don’t waste any more time. I already told the surgeon to wait one more day.” He remained motionless. Seeing his despair, I felt a surge of frustration and threw the property deed at him. “Stop moping and go!” He mechanically opened the deed. After one glance, he ripped it in half and threw it back at me. “Dad, how many years have you been lying to me?” I was stunned. “What’s wrong?” “This house! The name on the deed isn’t mine! And it’s not yours either! Dad, you told me you bought this for me with your life savings! The deed is a fake! What else have you been hiding from me?” His voice grew louder, drawing nurses and other patients. “You wanted me to mortgage it? Were you trying to humiliate me? Did you ever even want to save Toby?” “No, Daniel, I swear I didn’t know…” “Enough!” He buried his face in his hands, his whole body shaking with sobs. “It doesn’t matter now! Nothing matters!” Before I could react, he yanked the blanket off Toby. “He’s gone! He couldn’t wait for your money anymore! Dad, just go. I don’t ever want to see you again. You’ve never told me the truth about anything. If it weren’t for you, my son wouldn’t have had to die!” I collapsed to the floor. How? How could he still be dead after I’d been given a second chance? Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Daniel was completely broken. He lunged for the window. “Toby’s gone, I don’t want to live anymore!” In that split second, a memory flashed in my mind, so sharp it was like a physical blow. “Stop! I know where the money went!”

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