Category: English

I found myself inside a story, tasked with saving my mother from domestic abuse, only to face her relentless disdain because I resembled my father. When I shielded her from my father’s blows, she pushed me away. “You’re disgusting with your fake concern,” she’d hiss. I worked tirelessly to ensure she could live comfortably, yet she lounged through book clubs without care. “If it weren’t for having you, I wouldn’t have ended up like this. Your hard work is what you owe me.” One day, the system informed me I could go home. I stopped sacrificing for her and nagging her to take care of herself. That’s when she began to panic. Content “They’re saying Felicity Archer is repeating her senior year for the third time! What’s the point? That girl’s a lost cause!” “And her mom? I can’t figure her out either. She’s got such a brilliant, hardworking younger daughter but insists on pampering the older one. How many years has she wasted babysitting her through school?” News of my sister Felicity repeating her senior year spread like wildfire through Oakwood Subdivision, where gossip was practically the local pastime. Everyone knew Felicity was good at drinking, fighting, and making trouble—anything but schoolwork. But my mom was stubborn. No matter how many years it took, Felicity had to get into an Ivy League school. Why? Because I, Savannah Harper, already had. Felicity was my mom’s daughter from her first marriage. Her father, George Archer, had passed away from an illness, and my mom remarried my dad, Thomas Harper. Then I came along. The difference between Felicity and me couldn’t be more obvious. Felicity was the diamond, and I was the grass beneath her feet. But my dad didn’t treat her well. He was an abusive, alcoholic wreck. No matter how much I tried to protect Felicity, standing between her and the violence, she still hated me. In her eyes, my blood—his blood—made me just like him. I couldn’t measure up to even a fraction of her in my mom’s eyes. When I got home from my job at Uncle Jerry’s Smokehouse, the smell of BBQ clung to me like a second skin. When I walked through the door, my mom sprayed air freshener at me, scrunching her nose. “Why do you always have to make things worse? Out of all the places to work, you pick the smokiest one. Can’t you learn from Felicity and take care of your appearance?” I raised my arms without a word, letting her do her thing. She seemed to have forgotten everything I’d done since she divorced my dad—her depression, Felicity’s constant brawls. I’d lost countless part-time jobs running around trying to fix their lives. Only Uncle Jerry was kind enough to keep me on. Not only was I paying for our living expenses, but I was also covering for Felicity’s constant messes. This time, I was scrambling because rent was due soon. I scrubbed my skin raw in the shower, hoping to wash away the smoky smell. When we first moved here, neighbors praised my mom for raising two kids so well. They called her strong and independent. But behind her back, they whispered about me, the skinny one. “She should give that one away, sell her even. Wouldn’t drag the family down.” But the one earning money? That was me. The one keeping the family afloat? Also me. The one who took the hits when my dad returned, fists flying? Still me. When I first arrived in this world, my mom was kind. She’d sing me lullabies and sneak me food. But as I grew older and my features took after my father’s, her gaze twisted into something unrecognizable. Her hatred for him? It found its outlet in me. Just last night, the system informed me my dad had drunk himself to death. The threat was finally gone. I was free to leave. As water streamed down my face, I closed my eyes. Soon, this nightmare would be over. A knock interrupted my thoughts. “I heard someone saw Felicity at The Silver Oak Bar tonight. Just… cover for me, will you? I need to go get her.” “And about your birthday… well, you understand, right? That kind of place isn’t safe…” I dried my face, catching my calm reflection in the mirror. “Take care of yourself,” I replied evenly. The silhouette outside the door froze.

“You’ve grown up, Savannah.” Yeah, I used to argue with her. Plead with her to stop sacrificing herself for Felicity. But now? I felt nothing. I slowly dressed, stepped out, and walked past my mom into the kitchen. It’s time to make some pancakes for myself. It was funny. My birthday was the same as my real-life one. We could celebrate. My mom followed me, hesitated, then spoke. “Careful not to burn yourself.” I nodded indifferently. I was here because of a car accident. The Taskkeeper Program told me if I completed my mission, I could wake up again. I couldn’t bear losing my real family, so I agreed. When I arrived, Savannah Harper was seven years old. Even then, she knew how to cook and clean like it was muscle memory—skills that passed on to me. I went from the pampered Gabrielle Hackett to Savannah, who could chop vegetables blindfolded and endure beatings without crying. But that simple “be careful”… That was the first time I’d heard those words from her in over a decade. My mom left in a hurry, forgetting her purse. When she came back and saw me eating, she froze. Ignoring her, I continued. She finally spoke through gritted teeth. “I spoke to your teacher. For Felicity, a tutoring program might help. About your paycheck…” I looked up. I’d lost count of how many times this had happened. At first, she’d made excuses, promising to save the money for me. But it always turned into new dresses for Felicity. Later, she stopped pretending, demanding I hand it over outright. And so I did—rent, groceries, even trash bags. I came home from a late shift, splashed cold water on my face more nights than I could count, and headed straight to school. Half the time, I’d fall asleep in class, earning detention notices my mom ignored. The day she told my teacher, “I don’t care about that kid. Do whatever you want with her,” I copied lines until 4 a.m. That shift cost me my third job. Returning home, the fridge was empty as always. Not even leftovers. Every dollar I handed over ended up on Felicity—her new shoes, her shiny hair clips. At first, I protested. Now, I was numb. “Because you have his blood!” she’d scream. “Everything you do, you owe me!” I stood, staring into her tired, lined face. Before she could speak, I pulled out a small bundle from my pocket—all the money I had left. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t take it back to the real world anyway. I washed my dishes and left her stunned in the kitchen, unsure what to do.

After washing the dishes, I turned to find my mom still staring at me. Confused, I asked, “If you don’t leave now, Felicity will sneak off again.” She blinked as if snapping out of a daze, her brow furrowing. “Savannah Harper, are you doing this to spite me?” There was a time when I might have been. I used to argue with her, pleading for her to wake up. I’d tell her Felicity was an adult who needed to take responsibility for herself. “It’s not a parent’s job to shield their child from every mistake,” I’d say. “You’re only pushing her further away. Some lessons, she’ll have to learn the hard way.” But she’d fly into a rage, grabbing whatever was nearby to hit me with. “Savannah, you’re just jealous of your sister!” she’d scream. “You’re so twisted with envy I don’t even know how you turned out like this!” Over time, the whispers from neighbors and relatives grew louder. “She’s just a jealous, bitter child,” they’d say. During holidays, they’d quietly tell my mom, “Stop being so nice. You should send her away. It’s better for everyone.” But I was the family’s breadwinner. She’d never send me away, no matter how much she wanted to. And now, when I finally kept quiet, I was still in the wrong. I shook my head, denying her accusation. Her frustration boiled over. She slammed her hand on the table. “If you hadn’t gotten sick during Felicity’s SATs, she wouldn’t have been so worried she missed the test!” “You owe her so much. What’s wrong with making it up to her?” I couldn’t help but laugh. This argument had become a broken record, played too many times for me to muster anger. Felicity missing her SATs was my fault. Felicity dating troublemakers? My fault for being a bad influence. Felicity sneaking off to bars? My fault for being too annoying at home. Everything was my fault. The truth? She overslept the morning of her SATs. I had been delirious with a fever so high I couldn’t move, begging her to bring me a glass of water. The test had already started when she finally came to check on me. And her dating history? Her so-called boyfriend was a notorious delinquent at school. I overheard her bragging to friends about how being with him made every girl step aside for her. As for the bars, I was too busy juggling work and school to be in her way. But no matter how often I explained, my mom refused to listen, drowning me with blame. Honestly, I could understand. After two failed marriages, she needed someone to focus her anger on. But I was tired. I’m too tired to defend myself anymore. I met her gaze evenly. “Felicity missed the SATs because she overslept. She barely even attended class. Do you think she’d have done well even if she showed up?” Years ago, Felicity’s teachers constantly called my mom in for meetings. Afterward, she sat on the couch, staring into space. I’d try to comfort her, holding her hand. She’d sigh, “Savannah, just try to make things easier for me, okay?” So, I worked even harder—studying as fiercely as I worked to earn money. I soaked up knowledge like a sponge, determined to grow beyond my circumstances. When I handed her my college acceptance letter, I expected pride. Instead, she looked at me with resentment I didn’t understand. “Felicity doesn’t have a future like this. Why should you?” She only stopped short of tearing it up because I was sobbing and begging her not to. Even then, she made it clear she wouldn’t support me going. All I had wanted was a simple “well done.” Her scales had tipped so far in Felicity’s favor that not even a grain of recognition was left for me. She blinked, startled by my directness. Before she could speak again, I walked into my room, grabbed a stack of tutoring program pamphlets, and handed them to her. “These look good. You should check them out.” Then I ushered her toward the door. She clung to the frame, her fingers turning white. “I’ll make you a roast chicken for dinner when I return, okay? For your birthday.”

I’d heard promises like that more times than I could count. “Score in the top ten, and I’ll get you that doll.” “When Felicity’s tired of her dresses, you can have them.” “After we return from the store, I’ll bring you some candy.” At first, I believed her. Then, I learned the truth. Empty words to soothe a child. But it didn’t matter. I was going home soon. With thoughts of my real family, my eyes stung with tears as I fell asleep. The following day, I went to take out the trash. Voices drifted from the street. “My son didn’t come home again last night,” one neighbor said. “I called him, and he said that troublemaker from the Harper house got into another fight at the bar. A bunch of them caused a stir at the police station!” “Had him working overtime cleaning up the mess,” she continued. “If I were Savannah’s mom, I’d have kicked her out ages ago. But Marilyn spoils her rotten.” “Marilyn even apologized for her last night! She was on her knees, begging the other party for forgiveness. And that girl just ran off again!” “Can you imagine? What a shame.” Ms. Clara nudged Ms. Nora’s arm when she noticed me. “You shouldn’t be saying this in front of her.” But Ms. Nora waved her off. “What does it matter? Everyone knows the Harper kids. One’s a troublemaker, and the other’s a quiet little doormat.” They weren’t entirely wrong. I wasn’t always this quiet. When I laughed, Mom called me annoying and threw things at me to shut me up. When I cried, she said I was bringing bad vibes into the house. Over time, I learned to be silent—a wooden doll that didn’t cry or laugh. Standing by the trash cans, I scuffed circles into the dirt with my toe, thinking. Then, without a word, I turned and walked away. Behind me, someone muttered, “There goes that little fool, off to bail her mom out again.” “She’s a good kid, though. Maybe life would be easier for her on her own.” But I wasn’t going to the police station. I went home. I gathered my uniform from Uncle Jerry’s Smokehouse off the line, neatly folded and clean with the scent of sunlight. I packed it carefully into a bag with a handwritten thank-you note and some candies—the best gift I could manage. Walking to the smokehouse, I found Mr. Jerry soaking in the sun by the door. With my first genuine smile in years, I handed him the bag. “Mr. Jerry, thank you for everything.” He ruffled my hair. “You’re a good kid, Savannah. I’m sure the road ahead will be smooth for you.” I nodded firmly. Behind me, I heard someone call softly, “Savannah?”

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Mom gave us two choices. Go with her to the Brown family, where we could attend the best high school with the young master, but only go to domestic universities. Or stay in our hometown for school, with the option to study abroad after high school graduation. Chloe quickly spoke up. “Mom, I want to go with you to the Brown family.” Mom smiled with satisfaction and turned to look at me. “Your sister should let you go abroad. That way, I’ll have fulfilled my duty as a mother.” Seeing Chloe clinging to Mom with an expectant look, I knew. She had also been reborn. Unfortunately, Vaughn would never fall for her. “Adeline, the employer’s house is busy. Your sister and I are leaving today. Take care of yourself at home, okay?” Mom finished packing and left with Chloe. It wasn’t like last time when she stayed an extra ten days trying to convince Chloe to go with her to the Brown family. In my previous life, after Mom presented the two choices, Chloe had also rushed to choose, but she chose to study abroad. After my parents divorced, I was given to Dad. For ten whole years, Mom never came to see me, but I thought about her every day. It wasn’t until Dad passed away and the police brought me to Mom’s place that I was reunited with her. I was so happy when Chloe chose to study abroad. I could finally be with Mom day and night. But Mom wanted to take Chloe more. She stayed at home for ten days, constantly trying to persuade Chloe to go with her. Chloe firmly believed abroad was better, and even when the employer urged Mom to return, she never changed her mind. So, I went with Mom to the Brown family and met Vaughn. He was handsome, cold, and noble, and excelled in his studies. He was the prince charming in every girl’s heart at school. I couldn’t help but fall for him too. I understood we were worlds apart, so I could only bury that love in my heart. Until after the SAT exam, when Vaughn, drunk after a party, pinned me against the wall. “Adeline, will you study abroad with me?” I turned my face away, trying to control myself. “I don’t have money.” Vaughn smiled, and the whole basement seemed to light up. “I’ll pay for you.” At that moment, I realized. The boy I had secretly loved for three years liked me too. Overwhelmed with happiness, I excitedly told Mom that the young master wanted to take me abroad to study. But what I got was a heavy slap from Mom. “You’re not allowed to go. When you chose to come to the Brown family with me, you gave up the option to study abroad. I’ve been saving that money for Chloe to go abroad.” I held my face and tried to explain. “The young master said I don’t need to pay. He’ll cover my tuition.” Mom sneered, looking at me with disdain. “You’re so shameless, climbing into bed for money. Have you considered your position? Who are you, and who is he? “If someone like the young master is interested in you, once he gets bored of you, I’ll still have to pay. “Don’t even think about going abroad. If you dare disobey, don’t ever call me Mom again. “Also, you’d better stay far away from the young master. Don’t affect my work.” Perhaps because I lacked maternal love since childhood, my greatest fear was losing Mom. I dejectedly rejected Vaughn. But Vaughn solemnly told me. “Distance isn’t a problem. I have money to buy plane tickets.” After starting college, we began a long-distance relationship. He flew back every month to see me. The sweetness of love filled me with hope for the future. When Mom found out we were really dating, she secretly asked Vaughn to take care of Chloe, who was also abroad. Vaughn, unaware of our family situation, naively took care of Chloe as a brother-in-law would. Unexpectedly, one day in my senior year, I received a message from Chloe, along with a photo. In the picture, Chloe was topless, hugging Vaughn’s neck, lying on a hotel bed. [Sis, Vaughn and I are together now. Stop clinging to him.] Having dated Vaughn for three years, I knew he would never betray me. My first thought was that Vaughn had been set up. I angrily called Chloe. But I didn’t notice the truck rushing towards me. After my soul left my body, I heard Mom and Chloe’s conversation. “It’s good that your sister died. Hurry and capture the young master’s heart. You’ll be the future mistress of the Brown family.” Chloe laughed smugly. “Mom, you’re so farsighted. Letting Vaughn take care of me abroad gave me the chance to take that photo when he was drunk. “I originally wanted Adeline to give up voluntarily, but she ended up dying directly. Heaven really is on our side. “After Vaughn gets over his grief, I’ll go and offer myself to him.” I had always thought that even if Mom was biased, she would still see me as her daughter. I never expected that she wouldn’t even be sad about my death. Heartbroken, I floated to find Vaughn. Only to discover that Vaughn had taken his own life in the bathtub, holding my photo. It was then that I realized. Vaughn’s love for me was beyond life itself. I went mad, using all my strength to trip Chloe as she was going downstairs. I watched as Chloe fell to her death on the stairs. Only then did my soul dissipate. Unexpectedly, I returned to the day we chose our destinies. Only this time, Chloe chose to go to the Brown family. She thought that as long as she went to the Brown family, Vaughn would fall for her. Unfortunately, she was wrong. Vaughn would never like her. And I would make them pay for what they did in the previous life.

As soon as Mom and Chloe left, my aunt, using the excuse of renovating the room, asked me to move into the school dorms early. Before, when Mom worked as a housekeeper for the Brown family, she let us stay at my uncle’s house. She would give my aunt a monthly allowance. In my previous life, after Mom and I went to the Brown family, Mom increased the allowance and asked them to take good care of Chloe. Chloe lived well at my uncle’s house. Now it seems Mom had stopped giving my aunt the allowance. I didn’t argue, packed my things, and left. Before school started, I had another place to go. After leaving my aunt’s house, I went to the bank. Every year on my birthday, Dad would save some money for me. Only I knew about that money. I withdrew it and took a long-distance bus. I arrived at a remote cemetery. It was a stormy day. I wrapped myself in a raincoat and hid behind a tree, waiting. As it was getting dark, 16-year-old Vaughn rushed in, braving the rain. Several bodyguards followed behind him. Vaughn was soaked, his narrow eyes cold, but his steps were particularly determined. He walked to a grave and frantically started digging through the grass beside it. “Young master, in this heavy rain, it must have been washed away. Let’s come back when the rain stops.” Vaughn seemed not to hear, continuing until he was exhausted and in despair. I walked out from behind the tree. “Excuse me, are you looking for this?” I pulled out a necklace from my pocket. Vaughn’s eyes lit up, and he quickly walked over. Seeing him soaked, I raised my umbrella higher to shield him from the rain. Vaughn took the necklace with trembling hands, his expression relaxing. “How did you get this?” In my previous life, after Vaughn and I got together, he once said that his greatest regret in life was losing the necklace he made with his mother in the summer when he was sixteen. So, I came to the cemetery. To help him make up for that regret, and to meet him. I shrugged and smiled. “The rain washed it down just now. I picked it up and saw you searching for a while, so I thought it might be yours.” “Thank you. This necklace is very important to me. What reward would you like?” Vaughn said thanks, but still maintained a distant attitude. I shivered and said, “How about you treat me to some instant noodles? I’m cold and hungry.” Vaughn was stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Okay!” Half an hour later, at my insistence, Vaughn and I ate his first cup of instant noodles together. “I never knew instant noodles could be so delicious.” When we were together before, his favorite food was instant noodles. After eating, Vaughn wanted to keep my contact information to thank me. I smiled and refused. “If fate allows, we’ll meet again.” As I turned away, I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore. I wanted so badly to run over and hug him, to tell him everything about the previous life. To tell him how much I missed him, to the point of madness. But that would surely make me seem crazy. I didn’t leave my contact information because I knew all his movements after high school. We would meet again. Vaughn would think it was all fate. Not premeditation.

Finally, school started. The high school curriculum was really simple. I started planning my second meeting with Vaughn. During the National Day holiday, I found a part-time job cleaning at an ice hockey rink. On the third morning, Vaughn came to practice. I secretly watched him from behind. When he was almost done practicing, I spoke softly. “You should twist your wrist a bit when passing the puck.” Vaughn suddenly turned around. I couldn’t see his eyes under his hat. But I could feel his shock. “It’s you! You can see my weakness?” How could I? He told me himself. I played dumb. “I can see a little bit. Do we know each other?” Vaughn took off his hat, his eyes sparkling with joy. I exaggeratedly opened my mouth wide. “Oh, it’s you!” We had lunch together at noon. “You’re underage, how come you’re working here?” “Shh! Don’t let the boss find out. I’m pretending to be an adult.” “Do you really need money that badly?” “My dad died in a car accident. Mom took all the money and left with my sister. How else can I survive if I don’t work?” Vaughn was silent for a moment. “Why don’t you practice ice hockey with me later?” I hesitated. “But I still need to clean…” “Five thousand per hour.” “Alright, sugar daddy!” Vaughn laughed again, almost spitting out his food. After playing hockey in the afternoon, Vaughn invited me to dinner again. I was about to agree when I saw Chloe looking around outside the rink. “Let’s make it next time! I have to go now.” When paying me, we exchanged contact information. After returning to the hotel, Vaughn sent me a message. [Did you get home safely?] I couldn’t help but smile. But I only replied with a simple “yes”.

After the holiday, I started preparing to sign up for the debate competition. In my previous life, although Vaughn and I knew each other, at school, he was in the top class while I was in the lowest. At home, he lived on the top floor, and I lived in the basement. We were two people who would never have crossed paths. It was because of a debate competition that Vaughn noticed me. This time, I wanted to shine even brighter in the debate competition. But when I prepared all the materials, I found out that my hometown high school had no plans to participate. Frustrated, I directly rolled up my bedding and slept in the hallway outside the principal’s house. The principal couldn’t resist my persistence and finally agreed to help me form a team and register, but we had to cover the costs ourselves. Fortunately, there were many students in the school who wanted to participate. We prepared and competed together, busy but happy. Vaughn would sometimes send me messages. Every time, I would stop what I was doing and read each word several times. In the end, I would patiently reply with just a few words. Before the winter break of our first year, I led the debate team into the finals. Vaughn spotted me immediately. “You found another part-time job here?” I flashed my school badge. “I’m here for the finals.” Vaughn glanced at the badge, his eyes widening. “You’re the legendary debater from Maple Leaf High School.” “Legendary?” Vaughn’s expression changed, his gaze intense. “With your school’s level, making it to the finals is like divine intervention. “Half of today’s audience is here for your team captain. Introduce me to your captain later.” At this moment, my teammate ran over. “Captain, our seats are over there. Let’s go!” Vaughn was stunned, his gaze towards me seemed to be changing.

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I spent ten years trying to win over Tristan Wilder. The only way I could avoid being erased by the system was to marry him before he turned twenty-eight. But on our wedding day, the female officiant made a mistake. Instead of asking, “Do you take her to be your wife?” she asked, “Do you take me to be your wife?” The audience burst into laughter, but Tristan’s eyes turned red. Without a second thought, he took the officiant by the hand and left the wedding, saying, “I do.” That’s when I realized: Tristan had always been in love with someone else—his first love. And now, she’s back. Everything is over. 0″Do you take me to be your wife?” “I do.” When Tristan said those words, his eyes were red, and the entire room went dead silent. But he ignored everyone. He turned, took the hand of the woman in the white dress, who looked eerily like me, and walked out of the wedding. It was supposed to be my wedding. Yet, I stood there like a spectator, feeling the despair well up in my eyes. It’s all over. The system’s voice, tinged with regret, echoed in my head. “That’s Tristan’s first love. Ten years ago, she left to study abroad.” “And now she’s back.” “Your mission… it’s failed.” The wedding venue erupted into chaos: Guests whispering, the officiant trying to restore order, my friends furiously cursing under their breath… But to me, everything was eerily quiet. Yes. It was all over. My mission had failed, and I was going to die. I had spent the last ten years trying to win over Tristan Wilder. I was there for him when he had nothing. I watched him climb his way up to become the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the country. During the hard times, I stayed up late making him soup, nursed him back home after drunken business meetings, and shared meals of mac and cheese with him. I thought my companionship was the greatest act of love. I thought I had made my way into Tristan’s heart. But now, it all feels like a joke. A first love is always a first love. She didn’t need to do anything. All she had to do was stand there, and Tristan would follow her. I’m sorry, host, the system said, with a faint trace of sadness. “You only have three days left to stay in this world…” I took a deep breath, my chest tightening as though two heavy stones were crushing it. My friend held my hand and gently rubbed my back, trying to comfort me. “Lana, don’t worry about it. That jerk isn’t worth it…” I shook my head and sent the guests home. I declined the sympathy from family and friends, and left the wedding alone. Dressed in my pristine white wedding gown, I waved down a cab on the street. The driver looked at me in shock, but I held back my tears. “Take me to Gull Cove.” Gull Cove was where I first met Tristan, where we started his business together. There was an old, run-down apartment there—our first home and where all my fond memories were stored. I only had three days left. I wanted to die there. 0

The driver was silent for a long time, probably confused by the sight of a bride leaving a chapel alone. When we finally arrived at Gull Cove, I pulled out my phone to pay, but the driver waved it away. “No need. Miss, take it easy. As long as you’re still alive, there’s no obstacle you can’t overcome…” I didn’t cry when Tristan left with his first love. I didn’t cry under the weight of all the judgmental stares at the wedding. But the driver’s unexpected, kind words shattered my defenses. Once he left, I collapsed on the ground and cried, my heart aching with every sob. Yes, there’s no obstacle I can’t overcome. But I’m about to die. I walked along the muddy path at Gull Cove for a long time until I finally reached the familiar, run-down apartment building. Room 20

That’s where Tristan and I spent our hardest three years. Dragging my mud-stained wedding dress, I silently pulled out the key and twisted it in the rusty lock. It creaked, loudly, as the door finally opened. The door next to me swung open too. Mrs. Hattie Greene, the woman with her hair in rollers, peeked her head out, looking me up and down for a while. Suddenly, her eyes lit up as she asked, “Lana?” I forced a smile and nodded. Mrs. Greene rushed out, her apron still on, grabbing my hand with warmth. “Do you remember me?” “I’m Mrs. Greene! I lived next door when you two stayed here…” Of course, I remembered. Back then, Tristan and I would come home late from work. On nights we were too tired to cook, Mrs. Greene would pull us into her house to eat dinner with her. She was warm and kind, reminiscing about old times. “So, where’s that young man? You two must be married by now, right?” As she continued talking, her gaze finally landed on my pale face, tear-filled eyes, and the mud-streaked wedding gown. She stood there, stunned for a long moment, before gently patting my back. “It’s okay, dear. There are plenty of good men out there.” “Don’t worry, I’ll find someone better for you.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced back the tears that threatened to fall. After saying goodbye to Mrs. Greene, I stepped into the tiny apartment. This place, full of memories Tristan and I shared… The room was small. Just a double bed, a dust-covered table, and a worn-out panda plushie. This was everything Tristan had given me. I sat on the bed, running my fingers over the stuffed panda, and tears poured out. “Don’t cry, Lana. Tristan was wrong.” “Don’t cry, Lana. Tristan was wrong.” The broken, mechanical voice repeated, blinking its dim light. It was from my first birthday with Tristan. I had cooked noodles at home, waiting excitedly for him to come back. But he never showed up that night. When he finally returned the next afternoon, his eyes were red, and he looked completely worn out. Maybe out of guilt, he gave me the panda plushie. I was so happy back then. Tristan’s panda… I loved it so much. But later, I found out his first love’s name was Rachel Whitmore. The panda said “Lana,” but it wasn’t for me. It was for Rachel. That night wasn’t just my birthday. It was also Rachel’s birthday. He had spent the whole night running around, trying to ship the panda overseas to her. But because the plushie had a lithium battery inside, he couldn’t send it by air. So Tristan brought it back and threw it to me like trash. The panda was pitiful, discarded like garbage. And my love? Just as worthless. 03. That night, I lay on the bed where Tristan and I had once slept together, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Seven years had passed, and the faint scent of lemon still lingered on the sheets—Tristan’s scent. I used to love that smell. But now, it only made me feel sick. Our text conversation was still open from the night before. “Babe, babe, we’re getting married tomorrow. I’m so nervous! What if I can’t sleep?” “Don’t worry, after the wedding, you’ll control the money, and I’ll do all the housework…” How laughable. Last night, Tristan was still anxious about our wedding. And today, he chose to leave me, walking out hand-in-hand with someone else. He didn’t even look back at me when he left. Of course, he never really saw me at all. I was just a stand-in for Rachel. Now that she’s back, he doesn’t need me anymore. Tristan was probably somewhere right now, happily walking in the moonlight with his first love. Pathetically, I stared at my phone. Through blurred tears, I saw a message pop up: “Lana Brooks! Where are you? So, we didn’t get married, big deal!” “Are you really going to disappear and throw a fit over this?” “Don’t you get it? I’ve never loved you!” “I transferred $300,000 to your account.” “Take the money and leave. If you want to die, then go ahead!” The pain in my heart stabbed like a knife. Tristan’s cold words were just as harsh as the day we first met. He couldn’t even muster an apology. $300,000? I had spent ten years helping him build his business, standing by his side as he went from a broke young man to a successful entrepreneur. What we earned together was far more than that. But… When you truly love someone, do you really care about money? Then go ahead and die… Those words clouded my mind like a dark storm. But Tristan, I’m really going to die soon. Tears welled up again, but I swallowed them down. I hovered over the keyboard, trying to think of something to say. But in the end, I had nothing left. With a final breath, I clicked the “delete contact” button. Goodbye, Tristan. The Tristan I’ve loved for the last ten years. 0

The night had grown late. A cold wind blew in through the poorly sealed window, chilling me to the bone. Ten years ago, when Tristan and I lived here, the window was always like this—never fully closed. Every night, the room would grow cold, almost unbearably so. Back then, Tristan would hold me close, his body pressed against mine, sharing his warmth with me. Those winters were harsh, but with Tristan by my side, they always felt like spring—bright, warm, and full of promise. Now, lying alone in this bed, all I feel is the biting cold. A dull, relentless ache spread through my chest. I lay there, staring blankly into the darkness. Maybe I’ll just die here like this. By the time my body turns cold and rigid, Tristan will be in bed with his first love, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, just like he used to do with me. The phone on the nightstand buzzed suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts. I picked it up, and a friend request appeared on the screen. It wasn’t from Tristan. The request was from a person with a name that made my heart sink: Rachel Whitmore. Rachel Whitmore… Tristan’s first love, the “Lana” that the panda plush had referred to all along. The woman who had truly won Tristan’s heart. I accepted the request, my curiosity getting the best of me, and immediately went to look through her posts. I couldn’t help but wonder. Why? Why did this woman, who resembled me in so many ways, deserve Tristan’s entire heart without lifting a finger? Why had I given everything, only to end up with nothing? Why did I have to pay with my life? What made her so much better than me? Her most recent post was a nine-picture collage. In every photo, Tristan was smiling, looking at Rachel with a tenderness that I’d never seen before. His grip on her hand was tight, as if he feared losing her again. And to top it off, Tristan was wearing the same suit he had worn to our wedding. So, the moment he left me at the altar, he rushed to her, embracing his first love and taking these pictures. They looked so happy. As if I had never existed at all. The caption that accompanied the photos was like a knife dipped in poison, stabbing deep into my heart. “After ten years, you’re still you, and I’m still me. (Oh, by the way, we’re getting married in three days~)” Three days? I let out a bitter laugh. Three days was when my mission would fail, and I’d be erased by the system. It was also when Tristan would marry Rachel Whitmore. The system’s voice suddenly echoed in my head. “Disgusting…” Even the system sounded angry. I shook my head. The system continued, its tone softening. “Lana Brooks, I can see it. You’ve done everything you could over these ten years.” “I’ll give you a choice—choose how you want to die…” Choose how I want to die? I sighed. Since I was going to die anyway, it didn’t matter how it happened. The phone buzzed again. It was a message from Rachel Whitmore. She sent me an address. “We’re getting married in three days. I hope you’ll come.” Staring at those words, an idea started to form in my mind.

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I am a blind young woman. Living alone, a man broke into my home one night to steal, but he also tried to assault me, slowly undoing my clothes, muttering about taking more than my body… he wanted my heart, too. Today is June 7th. It’s been exactly 1,095 days since I lost my sight. My name is Emily Shaw, and I’m twenty-one years old. But my life, my future—it all got destroyed three years ago. It was June 7th then, too, and I was on my way to the SATs, mumbling bits of the poems I’d reviewed that morning. That’s when I heard a young girl crying. Instinct told me that the man rushing off with her had to be trafficking her. People nearby ignored it all, but I couldn’t. I ran toward them. In a narrow alley, I fought to free the little girl from him. That’s where the man’s knife struck, stabbing into my eyes, blinding me for good. I was blinded by a sudden rush of blood. The pain was unbearable, yet I held that girl as tightly as I could. Later, her family dropped to their knees to thank me. The police awarded me a Community Bravery Award and $1,500. I was praised as a hero. But my life, my beautiful future, had ended there. At first, the family I saved would visit occasionally, bringing the little girl. But eventually, they stopped coming altogether. I remember the last time Maddie came. She giggled as she pressed a few coins into my hand and said, “You can go beg under the bridge someday, okay? My mom says if I don’t study hard or go blind like you, I’ll end up begging too!” My lips quivered, and I fought back my tears. Once, I was my mom’s precious girl, the light of her life. If I could do it all over again, I would never step in like that. I would rather be an indifferent stranger than give up the happiness of a lifetime. Since losing my sight, every day has felt like a year. I’ve had to depend on my mother, and she was the only family I had. A week ago, she passed away from illness, and though relatives came for the funeral, they soon left. Now, I am truly the loneliest person alive. It’s so empty that I don’t even know why I keep living. Since losing my sight, my other senses have only sharpened. My hearing has become so acute that I can hear the exact spot where a needle drops to the floor. I’ve memorized how many steps it is to the kitchen, the bathroom, the nearest fast-food place. I live carefully, counting my steps. But I keep on surviving because of one person. There’s someone I care for. His name is Daniel Hart, my high school boyfriend. Even after what happened, he didn’t break up with me. He would still come by and check on me, giving me a shred of comfort in my broken world. This afternoon, I was practicing my Braille dictionary in the living room when I heard a knock on the door. With my guide stick in hand, I started slowly toward the door, but the knocking became louder and more aggressive. “Hold on, hold on…,” I said quietly, but the person kept pounding on the door. “Hey, if you don’t open up, I’m leaving. I’m here to fix the pipes for free, and you’re just letting me wait. You think I’m—” The door swung open, and his rant cut off when he saw me. The draft chilled me, and I couldn’t help but shiver. I apologized, “Sorry, I’m blind. It took a bit to get over here.” He paused, mumbling after a moment, “Oh, that’s fine. You’re Ms. Shaw in 302, right? I’m Norman Brooks, the repairman they called in to check the pipes.” He reached out and touched my hand. Though reluctant, I shook it lightly. “Hello.” Norman was diligent and polite, finishing the repair, then even offering to clean up my bathroom for me. “Stay for tea?” I offered, politely. I heard him scratch his head and awkwardly decline. Just as he was leaving, I heard a key in the lock, and the door opened. “Emily, I brought you something good to eat!” I instantly recognized Daniel’s bright, comforting voice. My heart warmed, and I threw myself into his arms. “You’re finally here.” In my memory, Daniel still looked like he did at eighteen, his face warm and bright. Every time he came, I would trace my fingers over his face, his lips, his Adam’s apple. I was terrified of forgetting the face of the one I loved most. After all, he was all I had left in the world. We kissed, oblivious to Norman, who cleared his throat, reminding us he was still there. Blushing, I pulled away from Daniel. “Uh, Ms. Shaw, I’ll take off now. If your pipes act up again, just have maintenance call me. I’ll leave you two alone,” Norman said, sounding irritated. “Yes…Daniel, could you see him out?” I urged Daniel toward the door, but he stayed still, keeping me in his arms as if to prove a point. “Just a plumber,” he said quietly, “We paid him to do his job. No need to see him out.” I wanted to tell him that Norman had come voluntarily, without charging a thing, but I heard Norman already leaving. Daniel didn’t seem to care. I smelled the fresh bouquet of flowers he brought and heard him place them gently in a glass vase. “Emily, you have to keep living,” he said softly. “One day, I’ll marry you.” Daniel had gone off to Georgetown and was now prepping for grad school. I was happy for him; he was getting the life I never could. On our rare visits, Daniel would hold me as I drifted off to sleep. When he thought I was asleep, he would finally slip out. But this time, as he left, he took a call in the living room, and I heard everything. The familiar warmth of his voice had a different tone: “Hey, baby. I’m just here because she’s alone all the time, and the reporters still hang around every now and then. Don’t worry. I’ll get the last bit of her support check, cover my tuition, and after that, I’m out of here.” “A dumb, pathetic blind girl,” he said, chuckling. “I’m just using her. I’ve never loved her.” The shock flooded through me, bringing a searing pain, like a bolt from a clear sky. Daniel had felt disgust for me this whole time?

I had feared that Daniel might leave, but I never expected it would happen in such a cold, brutal way. I stopped reaching out to him, and true to his word, he never came back. Even if I knew he had cheated… what could I do? I couldn’t rage or stop him from seeking better choices. From then on, it felt as if the life had drained from me. I cried every day. Without sight, without family, and without love, only the dark and this empty building kept me company. One afternoon, I was in the shower, cleaning myself up as if for some final act. When I rinsed off the soap, I heard the sound of someone swallowing from somewhere in the room. My sharpened senses picked it up right away—a low, heavy sound, like a man’s breath. The darkness around me magnified my fear. “Who’s there? Who?” My voice wavered as I asked, tension tightening my chest. No answer came, only silence. Panicked, I fumbled for a robe, buttoning it with trembling fingers, and reached to lock the bathroom door. Just as I was about to lock it, I realized—it had been opened from the outside. The cold air filled my throat, squeezing it tight. My heart sank. Terrified, I slipped and fell, my robe catching on the handle, leaving me exposed on the cold floor. I heard the front door close from the inside. Someone was here. Two hands reached down and pulled me up, wrapping around my waist, his warm palm pressed against me. My teeth chattered, but the gentleness was an illusion. The next second, I felt the cold edge of a knife at my neck, a faint scent of blood in the air. He was injured. “Where’s the money?” he said in a gruff voice. From his voice and breath, I knew right away who it was—Norman Brooks, the plumber from earlier. My mind went into overdrive. He must have been trying to rob me, furious over some previous theft gone wrong, choosing me, the blind woman, as the easy target. “My mom has my savings…there’s no money here. Please, let me go,” I begged, though my mother had been gone for weeks. In reality, I had no savings left. I’d used up everything for Mom’s medical bills. Only a few emergency bills remained under my mattress. Norman scoffed, his sweat close to my ear. “Next time, then, little blind girl. If you tell anyone, you’ll be sorry.” I nodded, drenched in cold sweat. After that, he resumed his search, dragging me with him, looting my router, TV box, and an old vase, boxing up everything. Held by the neck, I couldn’t call out for help. The room was filled with the unbearable sound of water dripping from the kitchen sink. When he finally let me go, he brushed against me, making me shiver. His hands were rough and calloused from years of hard work. He paused and handed me my robe after a moment. As I dressed, I could feel his gaze on me. A blush rose to my cheeks, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. “You’re…very beautiful,” he said suddenly, voice low. “I’ve never seen a woman’s body before. This is the first time.”

After he left, I took a moment to catch my breath, reaching out to check the lock on my door. It hadn’t been forced open. He had used a key. And the only spare key was with Daniel. Panic hit me as I screamed, blindly lashing out, knocking over the vase Daniel had placed so delicately in the living room. Glass shattered around me, and I stepped right onto a shard, but I didn’t feel the pain. Norman had stolen almost everything valuable from my home, leaving the place empty and mocking. Even my phone, my only way of reaching anyone, was gone. A voice in my head, cold and cutting, asked: Emily Shaw, what do you have left? Why are you still here? But another voice within me pushed back, fierce and defiant. No. I’m not going to let them break me. Not after everything. If I had to go down, I would take someone with me. I wiped away my tears and slowly made my way downstairs to the small convenience store to ask for help. The shop owner, Linda Carson, was there playing cards with some other women. Their laughter echoed through the summer air, completely ignoring me. Nervous, I held out five dollars and said quietly, “Please, I need help. There’s been a break-in at my place, and the man tried to assault me. Can you call the police?” The women went silent, and Linda Carson looked at me with mock sympathy before saying, “Oh, honey, who’d rob a place like yours? They’d be more likely to leave you some coins to survive on.” They burst into laughter, as if mocking my misery was a pastime. I clenched my fists, shame burning in my chest. It dawned on me how helpless I was—trapped, blind, with no one to turn to. Linda tossed a moldy loaf of bread at me, shouting, “Here, now take that and get lost. You’re in the way.” The stale bread struck my forehead, the pain blossoming. I reached up to hold my head, anger boiling over. “I might be blind, but I can see who you really are,” I snapped back. “I’m not some beggar you can insult as you please.” I was about to turn away when Linda shoved me back, dousing me in hot tea. “Here’s some sunshine for you, honey,” she sneered. The tea scalded my chest, searing through my skin, a painful reminder of how powerless I was. Tears stung my eyes as I thought of my mother, of Daniel, of everything that had led me here. Just then, a familiar deep voice cut through the crowd. “What the hell are you doing? She’s blind, for God’s sake. And you’re treating her like this?” It was Norman. My heart skipped a beat. Fear twisted inside me, knowing he was here. “You all better have some damn decency,” he barked, smashing Linda’s sign. She slammed down her shutters as the women scurried off, casting wary glances at him. Finally, we were alone, and I felt his presence near, his breathing still heavy from anger. “Ms. Shaw, are you okay?” His tone softened as he turned to me, a strange contrast to the fury moments before. “Yeah, yes…thank you.” My voice trembled. “What were you doing here anyway?” he asked, curiosity tinged with something else. I hesitated. I couldn’t tell him I was trying to report him for harassment and theft. “I…came for food,” I said softly. “Well, isn’t that convenient,” he chuckled. “I just stocked up on canned meat. Let’s go, I’ll walk you home.” When we returned to my apartment, he even swept up the glass shards on the floor. After he noticed the burn on my chest, he rummaged through my things until he found an ointment, carefully applying it to my skin. Sitting on the sofa, I felt strangely out of place in my own home, as if I were the guest, and he was the host. Fear and confusion tangled inside me, knowing how he’d helped me today but also remembering his threats. When it was time to take my medication, I swallowed it with water, hoping it would calm my nerves. I’d been on anti-anxiety meds since I lost my sight, a routine meant to keep me grounded. “Was it here where you got burned?” Norman asked, his fingers brushing my collarbone. “Yes, but…” I tried to stop him, but it was too late. He gave a sharp tug, pulling my strap down to examine the burn. His grip was firm, and a soft blush spread across my skin. “Don’t move. I’ve seen it all before,” he murmured, pressing the ointment into my skin, his fingers surprisingly gentle. My heart hammered, and I could hear the slight hitch in his breathing as he worked. “If anyone messes with you again, let me know,” he said softly. “I don’t have family. Got nothing to lose.” I moved to pull his hand away, and that’s when I noticed it—his leg. Or rather, the lack of it. His left leg was a prosthetic. I didn’t know what had happened to him, but it made me uneasy, a chill crawling up my spine. “Norman, I… I really don’t have any money. Please, don’t come back here again.” I forced the words out, my voice trembling. The air between us froze, his hand stilled, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, with a slow smile, he whispered, “No money? You’ve still got something else.” I tensed, unsure of what he meant. Before I could react, he pinned my arms over my head, pushing me down onto the sofa. His lips, cold and rough, found mine in a bruising kiss. Shock and terror pulsed through me, spreading like fire from my spine to my limbs. His kiss was brutal, forceful, more of an assault than an embrace, his breath heavy and primal. I thrashed, trying to break free, but his strength far outweighed mine. And as I felt his body’s shift, a deeper, more primitive fear took root inside me. Even blind, I knew what he intended to do.

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A Childhood Nightmare I was the imposter heiress of the Scott family. When the real heiress, Edna Scott, returned, everyone blamed me for stealing ten years of her life and forced me to atone for it. They despised me, even cursed me to die. Eventually, I did die, and everyone lost their minds. The boy who used to love bullying me knelt at my grave, crying and begging me to wait for him—to marry him in the next life. My parents and brother, who had always insulted me, also knelt there, crying, and apologizing for all the harm they’d done to me. But it was too late. I was dead. My body was shattered from the accident, but even then, I still clutched the grocery bags in my hands. Inside them was the dinner I was supposed to cook for the family. My spirit floated above the scene, numb, as I watched the driver panic and hurriedly load my body into the car. I laughed bitterly to myself. Who would’ve thought that my eighteenth year would end in death? I drifted aimlessly for a while. Then, without realizing it, I found myself floating back to the front of my house. When I got home, Dad and Rick hadn’t returned from work yet. Edna and Mom were sitting in the living room, discussing the latest designer handbags. Each bag’s price was more than I could ever dream of spending. After some time, Edna pouted and said, “Mom, I’m hungry. Why isn’t Sunny back yet?” Mom glanced at the clock, her tone full of irritation. “Where the hell is that Sunny? It’s been forever, and she still hasn’t returned with the groceries!” “Sweetheart, how about I take you out for dinner instead?” she offered. But Edna stuck out her lower lip. “No, no, I want to eat the dinner my sister makes for me. Let’s pretend we’re supporting her effort.” I knew she didn’t actually want to eat anything I cooked. She just didn’t want to miss another opportunity to humiliate me. Mom shook her head with a smile full of affection. “You’re too kind-hearted. Even now, you’re trying to support her.” Edna had always been like this—at school, she was a rebellious teen, but at home, she played the role of an innocent angel. Another hour passed, and finally, there was some noise at the door. Mom couldn’t hold back her anger anymore. “You worthless girl! Do you want to starve Edna to death by showing up this late?” But the door opened to reveal Rick and Dad instead. The moment I saw Rick, a lump formed in my throat. He was the person I cared about most in this family, but it had been so long since he even looked at me. “Dad! Rick!” Edna excitedly ran over to greet them, snuggling her head into their chests. Dad patted her head affectionately. “Edna, you’re all grown up now, but you still love clinging to your old dad, huh? Once you get married, you’ll cry your eyes out.” “Well, then I won’t get married! I’ll stay by your side forever.” Her sweet words made Dad burst out laughing. Rick tugged casually at his tie, every move effortlessly attractive. He didn’t pay any attention to Edna, though, and frowned as he asked Mom, “Where’s Sunny?” “You mean that fraud?” Mom couldn’t hide the disgust in her eyes. “I bet she’s up to no good. She can’t even manage a simple grocery trip, and she’s probably starving my Edna on purpose.” Dad’s face darkened with anger. “I’m calling her right now to see what the hell is going on. Does she think she can get away with making my precious daughter hungry? She’s been out of that basement for too long.” Even though I was dead, hearing those words made my soul tremble. The basement was my nightmare. Edna had been brought back into the family when I was ten. I couldn’t accept that there was suddenly another girl in our house, or the abrupt change in my parents’ behavior. I threw tantrums and even demanded they send Edna away. That night, I got slapped several times and was locked in the basement.

I Died, and No One Knew The basement was cluttered with unused items, and the whole room reeked of mildew. That night, I cried so much that I lost my voice. By the next day, I had developed a high fever. My parents locked me in my room and ignored me. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, it was fifteen-year-old Rick who left a bottle of fever medicine and a glass of water on my bedside table. He left without a word, but I grabbed onto that lifeline, somehow finding the strength to sit up and take the medicine. After several days of suffering, I finally recovered. Rick became the bright spot of my youth, my one source of hope. If it weren’t for him, I probably would’ve died long ago. But soon, Dad awkwardly realized that no one in the family had my contact information. Neither Edna nor Mom had it, either. In the end, Dad took Edna and Mom out to dinner, while Rick stayed behind, claiming work as an excuse. Edna smiled brightly. “Rick, you better work hard so you can earn lots of money to take care of me in the future.” For the first time in a while, Rick’s face softened into a smile. “Don’t worry. The Scott family business will always be your strongest support.” Watching this, I was consumed with jealousy, but when Rick said he wouldn’t go to dinner with them, I got anxious. “Hey, Rick! You have stomach problems—you can’t skip meals! When I was alive, I reminded you three times a day to eat and take your medicine. How have you still not formed the habit?” Rick had severe stomach issues, and I often saw him in pain, his face pale. I worried about his health constantly, even though I knew he was annoyed by me. Still, I pushed myself to send him reminders every day, even though he never once responded. After they left, Rick retreated to his study to work late into the night. I stayed by his side, watching him go through documents I didn’t understand. A focused man is truly at his best, and in that moment, Rick exuded the charm of a successful man. I felt a swell of pride in my chest. See? My brother is the most handsome man in the world. Several hours later, I heard a noise downstairs. I floated out to check. When I saw their empty hands, I knew they had forgotten to bring Rick anything to eat. I started to panic. What would happen if his stomach problems flared up? But then I stopped and laughed bitterly to myself. I was dead. What could I possibly do, even if I worried myself to death? I floated back to his side to watch him work. Finally, at 1 a.m., Rick closed his laptop and stood up. Suddenly, there was a noise outside his study window. Someone was throwing small stones at the glass. Rick walked over to the window, his face cold. Curious, I peeked out too, and saw Dylan Brooks grinning like a troublemaker. “Hey, Rick, why didn’t I see Sunny come home today?” In the dead of night, his voice cut through the silence, too loud. I had always hated Dylan. He constantly bullied me. Whenever I went out to buy groceries, he would whistle at me. Even though he was the only son of the Brooks family, he spent his days doing nothing and was known around town as a spoiled brat. Rick responded coldly, “If you keep disturbing my family, I’ll tell Mr. Brooks tomorrow.” At the mention of his grandfather, Dylan’s cocky expression wavered. He muttered a few curses under his breath before leaving. To my surprise, I felt a tiny bit of warmth. I couldn’t believe the first person to notice my absence was Dylan, the guy I hated most! Rick closed the window, freshened up, and was about to head to bed. But as he passed the hallway, he made a sudden turn toward my bedroom door. What was he up to? Rick first cracked the door open slightly, but when he saw the room was empty, he pushed it open with force. He turned on the light, and the entire room came into view. A bed, a desk, and a wardrobe—this was my entire world. Rick frowned even deeper, then closed the door and turned off the light. He went to sit on the living room sofa. I suddenly felt nervous. Was he waiting for me? But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I dismissed it. How could it be? Rick Scott, the busy and admired businessman, waiting for someone as insignificant as me?

He waited for a while, occasionally lifting his arm to check his watch. Finally, he took out his phone, staring at the screen as if trying to make a decision. Curious, I floated closer. It was our chat window. He was the only person in the family who had my contact information. The conversation was filled with messages sent only by me—reminding him to take his medication on time. After hesitating for a moment, he dialed my number. Of course, I could never answer it. Annoyed, Rick lit a cigarette, but just then, his phone buzzed with a message. “Don’t call me. I’m busy.” I was shocked. The hit-and-run driver was using my phone to message Rick! Rick smirked in anger, put out the cigarette, and immediately deleted my contact from his phone. “Ungrateful, just like a stray dog. No wonder Mom and Dad always said she couldn’t be trusted,” he muttered before heading off to bed. Hearing that felt like a dagger to my heart. I couldn’t believe it. Even my favorite brother was talking behind my back like that. The next morning, Rick came down for breakfast. As he ate, he casually asked, “Edna, why didn’t you make soup for me this morning? Are you not caring for your brother anymore?” Edna’s eyes flashed with panic for a second, but she quickly regained her composure. She put on a pitiful face and replied, “Oh, I’m sorry, Rick! I was so worried about Sunny last night that I couldn’t sleep. I completely forgot to make your soup today. You’re not mad at me, are you?” Rick gave her a soft smile. “Of course not. You work hard every morning. You don’t need to make soup next time. If you tire yourself out, Mom and Dad will be mad at me.” How shameless! I couldn’t help but curse under my breath. Only now did I realize that Edna had taken credit for my efforts. Rick had a sensitive stomach, so I would wake up early every day to make chicken soup for him. I thought that even though I never said anything, he’d know it was me. After all, Edna was never the type to be diligent, yet she managed to steal all the credit. As soon as they mentioned me, Edna continued, “I’m so worried about Sunny. You know how she’s always been a loner, with no friends and no money. Who knows where she stayed last night? What if some old man tricked her?” Mom scoffed. “Why bother worrying about her? As long as she doesn’t come back pregnant, that’s all I care about.” They joked about me like it was nothing, and Rick just sat there, emotionless, continuing to eat. Then the news came on: “Today, an unidentified female body was found in the woods on the west side of town. The victim appears to be around 18 years old. No missing person report has been filed, and authorities are working to confirm her identity.” Seeing the blurred-out body on the screen, I was overwhelmed with sorrow. Sunny Scott, you really have the worst luck. The police already know you’re dead, but the family you lived with for eighteen years thinks you’re out messing around with some man. Dad couldn’t help but sigh, “What a shame. Such a young life, gone just like that.” Mom, however, looked more alarmed. “Edna, from now on, you need to have two bodyguards with you at all times when you go out. If something happened to you, how would I go on?” Just then, there was a loud knock at the door. “Is Mr. Scott home?” a voice called. Dad frowned, clearly irritated. “What’s that troublemaker doing here? I’ve seen him hanging around outside for days. He better not have his eyes on my Edna.”

At Dad’s remark, Edna actually blushed. “Dad, don’t say that! Dylan Brooks probably has something important to talk about.” I had known for a while that Edna liked Dylan. As much as I disliked Dylan, I had to admit, his rebellious attitude and good looks made him popular with girls our age. In the end, Dad let Dylan in. Dylan scanned the living room and asked directly, “Mr. Scott, hasn’t Sunny come home yet?” Edna visibly paled. I couldn’t help but find his question odd, and I muttered, “Dylan, are you seriously here just to ask about me? Can’t you survive a day without bullying me?” Edna forced a smile, her voice rising in false sweetness. “Sunny ran off with some guy last night, Dylan. I’m not sure why you’re looking for her.” Rick, who had been quiet until now, suddenly snapped. “Edna, watch your mouth.” Edna looked hurt. “Are you doubting me, Rick? I know Sunny better than anyone—we go to the same school.” Mom jumped to Edna’s defense. “Edna wouldn’t lie about something like that. Besides, we’ve always treated Sunny well. We’ve given her food and shelter, and this is how she repays us—running off without a word.” Treated me well? I laughed bitterly. In their eyes, I probably did live in luxury. Rick had stomach issues, so I always made chicken soup for him in the mornings and reminded him to take his meds. Dad had such picky tastes that I’d spend hours researching recipes just to satisfy him. Mom loved wearing designer clothes, and it was me who hand-washed all of them. And Edna? At home, she was the innocent princess, but at school, she led the pack of bullies who tormented me daily. Dylan exploded with anger. “You ugly little liar! I know exactly what kind of person Sunny is. You don’t get to slander her like that!” Then he turned to address everyone in the room. “What’s wrong with you people? Sunny has lived with you for eighteen years! She didn’t come home last night, and instead of worrying, you make up filthy rumors about her? You don’t deserve to call yourselves her family!” With that, he stormed out, leaving Dad fuming. “I’ve spent decades in business, and now I’m being lectured by some kid? I’m calling Mr. Brooks to deal with this!” Dad yelled, slamming his chopsticks down. My heart sank. Dylan was definitely going to get in trouble tonight. Even though I didn’t like him, the thought of him being punished because of me didn’t sit well. I followed Dylan back to his house. The Brooks estate was the polar opposite of the Scott Manor. The Brooks family’s home was all understated elegance, with every piece of art on the walls worth a fortune. In comparison, our home, with its overly lavish decor, looked tacky—like a nouveau riche caricature. Dylan entered his room, kicked a chair in frustration, and picked up his phone. “Hey, Officer King, I heard you’ve been promoted recently. Can I ask a favor? I need you to find someone named Sunny Scott. She’s eighteen, and she went missing yesterday. She was last seen wearing a white shirt and blue jeans.” I was stunned by how well Dylan remembered the details. If he used that memory in his career, Mr. Brooks would be overjoyed. “No problem, Mr. Brooks,” Officer King said on the other end. “I’ll make sure to send a team out to look for her.” Then there was a pause before he added, “Wait a minute… a white shirt and blue jeans? Was she also wearing sneakers when she went missing?” Dylan’s voice grew excited. “Yes! How did you know? Have you seen her? Where is she?” Officer King hesitated. “Mr. Brooks, you’d better come down here in person.” It was clear that Dylan realized what was going on. He hung up immediately, jumped into his pink Lamborghini, and raced toward the police station.

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I thought I would love him forever… if only I hadn’t heard those words. On the second day of giving Thomas the silent treatment, I decided to go to his place to make up. As soon as the door opened, I heard a familiar female voice: “What? Don’t tell me you’ve actually fallen for her?” “Don’t forget, you were the one who said you wanted to get revenge for me!” That voice… it once plunged me into hell. As evening fell, I hurried towards the elevator, clutching a box of fresh cake. This was the second day of my silent treatment with Thomas, which also happened to be his birthday. I had finally found an excuse to rush over to his place with a cake. Usually, I had to let Thomas know before going to his place. Otherwise, he’d accuse me of messing with his things. Even though that one time, I hadn’t touched anything, just sat on the sofa waiting for him. But this time was an exception. It was a surprise. Surely he wouldn’t be angry… The elevator finally arrived. I nervously picked up the cake and walked towards Thomas’s door. Suddenly, a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks. “What? Don’t tell me you’ve actually fallen for her?” “Don’t forget, you were the one who said you wanted to get revenge for me!” Hearing this voice, I felt as if I’d been plunged into an icy abyss. How did Thomas know her?! Before I could even think of an excuse for him, his urgent voice came through: “Don’t be angry. How could I possibly like her?” “I’m just playing with her, how could you take it seriously!” “Don’t worry, I’ve already proposed to her. Soon she’ll be at your mercy!” … Every word felt like a knife to my heart! I don’t know how long it took, but Thomas finally managed to placate Mia. Her final words were, “Well, I want to be there when you two get engaged. I want her parents to know what a shameless homewrecker their daughter is!” Thomas reassured her, “Of course you’ll be there. You have to witness the moment of victory!” My boyfriend was planning to use our engagement party as a tool to please another woman… I tugged at the corners of my mouth, unable to even muster a bitter smile. I stood there stupidly at the door, masochistically listening to them belittle me until my legs went numb, and they still weren’t done. Finally, Mia said she had to leave. Only then did I come to my senses and frantically ran towards the stairwell. I crouched by the stairwell door, peeking through the small gap to watch Thomas fawning over Mia. My heart felt as if it had been slashed by a knife, the pain piercing to my very core! After seeing Mia off, Thomas’s face immediately darkened. I saw him pick up his phone, messaging someone while muttering, “Getting too big for her boots…” When I picked up my phone, I realized that his gloomy face had been directed at me. He said, “It’s my birthday today, did you forget?” “Who are you having dinner with again?! Even I, as a director, am not as busy as you!” “Let me tell you, if you’re not here by 8 PM, we’re breaking up!” … This overconfident attitude was something I had indulged over many days. Although Thomas was two years older than me, he often acted childishly in our relationship. It was all due to being spoiled by his family, and I was happy to indulge him too. But now… I laughed bitterly. So this is what it feels like to reap what you sow… I looked at the cake in my hand, suddenly feeling as if it weighed a thousand pounds, too heavy for me to lift. I left that cake in the stairwell, along with the ring Thomas had given me. The first time I met Mia was at my previous company. At that time, my boss Lucas was explaining to me how to improve a project proposal. Inadvertently, our shoulders brushed against each other as he leaned over to look at the computer screen. To an outsider, it might have looked intimate. But in reality, we didn’t have much physical contact, so neither of us thought anything of it and continued our discussion. However, someone with too much time on their hands took a photo of this moment and sent it to Mia. The next day at work, as soon as I sat down at my desk, Mia, who had been waiting for a long time, rushed up to me like a madwoman and slapped me across the face. “You bitch! How dare you seduce my husband!” I was stunned by her slap, aware of nothing but the intense pain on my face… Mia was about to strike again, but luckily Lucas grabbed her hand. “What are you doing here?!” Mia, gritting her teeth, pointed at me and shouted at Lucas, “Because of this slut, you’re yelling at me?! Are you really protecting this homewrecker?!” Lucas had no idea what she was talking about. He could only desperately block her, shielding me from Mia’s frenzied attacks. Afterwards, Lucas publicly apologized to me and dealt with the person who took the photo. But from that moment on, Mia had her sights set on me. I don’t know if she suffered from paranoid delusions, but every time I showed up at the company, she would stand at the company entrance, staring at me intently, as if afraid I would have any intimate interaction with Lucas. Her behavior drove me to the brink of a nervous breakdown, so I voluntarily resigned. On the day I left, packing up my things, Mia snorted coldly and finally moved away from the company entrance. The new job I found was at Thomas’s company. I remember that day when he asked me why I left my previous job. I calmly gave him a rehearsed answer. At the time, he looked at me with a meaningful gaze. I thought he found my answer too perfunctory. Looking back now, I realize all the signs were there from the beginning. I returned home like a walking corpse. As soon as I got home, Thomas called. I stared at the vibrating phone, a glimmer of hope in my heart. Maybe he had seen the cake? Maybe he was calling to explain… I made excuses for him, answering the phone with a hint of expectation, only to be met with Thomas’s sarcastic tone: “Oh, so you’re finally free to answer the phone! Who are you having dinner with this time?” I was stunned by his mocking tone, taking a while to remember the “guy” he was referring to. Previously, a long-term client of the company had invited me to dinner. I thought it was to discuss a contract, but it turned out he wanted to confess his feelings for me. Although I had always claimed I wasn’t single, no one at the company had ever seen my boyfriend. They probably thought it was just an excuse I used to avoid dating. Someone must have told him. I awkwardly watched him smiling and holding out flowers, wracking my brain for a polite way to reject him, not noticing that Thomas was sitting behind me at the time. He mistook my momentary silence for interest, so he immediately bought a ring to tie me down. At the time, he leaned on the sofa, roughly slipping the ring onto my finger, arrogantly saying, “Now they’ll have to believe you!” Although I didn’t want to get engaged so early, seeing how much he cared about me, I could only happily accept. The ring he bought was that season’s new design. After that, anyone with any sense never bothered me again. However, what came with it was my team leader frequently hinting at me, asking if I was getting married. I knew what she meant – she was afraid I would start taking time off work. Every time, I would exhaustively explain, afraid of being misunderstood. But Thomas became unhappy, thinking I didn’t love him, and started giving me the silent treatment. At the time, I lamented that although he was two years older than me, he was still so childish in our relationship. But now, I couldn’t help but think, it wasn’t that he couldn’t see my difficulties, he just didn’t care. He was simply trying to trip me up… I suddenly thought, did he buy me the ring because he was afraid I’d run away, afraid he couldn’t get revenge for Mia… On the other end of the phone, Thomas was still waiting for my response. Even though I had already sentenced him to death in my mind, I still wanted to get to the truth. “Thomas, do you love me?” There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by a nonchalant tone, “Of course I love you, why else would I be with you?” “Then what about Mia? Do you love her?” His breathing on the other end became erratic. In an instant, my heart turned cold. “The ring is in the stairwell of your building. Let’s break up.”

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“Eliza, would you come with me?” The wedding hall fell into complete silence as I stood there, stunned, with the ring halfway onto Eliza Monroe’s finger. Her long-lost love, Julian Hart, stood up yet again, shouting across the room at her. “Eliza, I’m here to take you away. Will you come with me?” Without a moment’s hesitation, Eliza pulled her hand away from mine, lifted her dress, and walked gracefully toward Julian. Tears glistened in her eyes, filled with an emotion I hadn’t seen before, as if Julian were the one she was meant to marry today. And there I stood, the actual groom, under the glaring spotlight, reduced to nothing more than a clown in a suit. With conviction, Eliza extended her hand to Julian, her voice ringing loud and clear for everyone to hear. “Julian, I will!” ###It couldn’t be more evident. Eliza Monroe, the woman I loved, had been swept away by her long-lost love, Julian Hart. But I didn’t feel angry. Instead, there was a strange sense of inevitability. After all, this was the third time in a month that my wedding had been interrupted by Julian. I let the ring fall from my hand, its imprint digging sharply into my palm. No one moved to stop them—not even Douglas and Vivian Monroe, who sat unmoving at the head table. I just stood there, watching their little drama unfold. The first time Julian crashed our wedding, I was furious. I shouted at him with every ounce of rage I had. This was supposed to be Eliza’s and my day. I had planned it meticulously, and I couldn’t let him ruin it. Red-eyed, I rushed to tackle Julian, intent on stopping him from stealing the woman who’d promised to be my wife. But our relatives blocked my path. Julian, standing protectively beside Eliza, smirked and said: “See? He flies off the handle at the smallest thing. He’s bound to hurt you one day.” “Be glad I’m testing this for you. Otherwise, think of how much you’d suffer in the future!” In that moment, the crowd turned against me. Their whispers painted me not as the groom but as the villain. The voices surrounding me scolded me, saying it was just a test, and I had overreacted. It ended with me handing out a few hefty checks, and Eliza reluctantly agreeing to marry me again. The second time, I didn’t shout. I didn’t lose my temper. I fell to my knees, holding Eliza’s dress, pleading with her not to leave. I loved her, and I recounted every single reason why. Julian pointed at me, disdainful. “Pathetic. You think you can manipulate Eliza with this show of weakness? You’re just a coward. What do you bring to the table besides clinging to her?” Once again, I was judged and condemned. Everyone there was one of Eliza’s friends or relatives. I had no family—no one to stand by me. The verbal onslaught came from every side, and Eliza simply nestled into Julian’s embrace, a sweet smile on her lips. Anger wasn’t enough. Begging wasn’t enough. Everything I did was wrong. So, I chose to do nothing. I stood in silence, watching. Julian’s voice cut through the room once more. “See? Blake Carrington doesn’t even care enough to fight for you. How could you marry a man like that?” “He’s failed all three tests. He’s not worth marrying.” Anger failed. Pleading failed. Indifference failed. What do you want me to do? Eliza’s eyes flicked back to me, and she threw the bouquet at my chest. “Blake! What are you doing just standing there? I’m being taken from you!” “You don’t care at all, do you? You never loved me!” Her expression was a mixture of rage and frustration. But I merely brushed off the flowers clinging to my suit, straightened my tie, and walked toward the emcee, taking the microphone from him. “Eliza, go. This wedding is over.” ###

When I finished speaking, the entire wedding venue fell into silence. Everyone assumed Eliza Monroe had me completely under her control—that no matter what she did, I wouldn’t end things. Eliza snapped out of her shock quickly, her eyes narrowing in rage. She grabbed a champagne glass and threw it at me, soaking my custom suit, one I had bought specifically for this day. “Blake Carrington, have you lost your mind?” she shouted. “How dare you say the wedding is off? You’ve got some nerve!” “You didn’t even pass a single test, and now you say something like that?” Tests? A single wedding costing tens of thousands of dollars. Dresses, photography, the emcee, flowers, venues. Three weddings, costing millions in total. I laughed bitterly. Every cent came from me. “Oh, so they were tests, not real weddings? Fine.” “All three weddings came to four hundred fifty thousand. Pay it back—can you do that?” Eliza’s face fell. She couldn’t possibly pay it back. Every dress, every piece of jewelry she owned—I paid for. The house her parents lived in, the car they drove, even their jobs at my company—they all came from me. She wouldn’t be able to come up with that money, no matter what. The luxurious life Eliza enjoyed was funded solely by me, but none of that mattered to her. Instead, she doubled down, eyes blazing as she grabbed another glass and hurled it at me. “Spending money on me is a privilege!” “What do you have besides a pile of cash? You think that will tie me down? And now you dare to demand it back? I’ll make you regret it!” With that, she stormed out, wedding gown trailing behind her, and Julian Hart followed close, casting a triumphant smirk my way as they exited. I watched them go, a hollow feeling taking root in my chest. Five years of love, and this was who she really was. I glanced down at the wedding band still pressed into my palm, its outline sharp against my skin, and finally, the tears fell. Eliza and Julian had been together before. When her family fell from wealth, Julian had walked away. That’s when I came in, loving her fiercely, supporting her through everything. When she accepted me as her partner, I thought my love had won. Then Julian came back from overseas, ruining everything in an instant. Eliza fell for him again without a second thought. She stopped caring about me, my objections—everything except my money. She only cared about Julian. She used my love as a pawn for his gain, trampling over my feelings and dignity. The relationship had been decaying for a long time. I’d just been too naive to see it. I reclaimed the money I had given to her parents as a bride price and told the emcee to clear the guests from the hall. I changed out of my soaked suit, grabbed my car keys, and prepared to head home when one of Eliza’s relatives grabbed my arm, sneering. “Blake, so when’s the next wedding?” he said, laughing at my expense. They thought it was a joke—that I would never truly leave her. I said nothing, walking straight to my car. There wouldn’t be another wedding. ###

I drove back to my house, determined to remove every trace of Eliza Monroe from my life. The house was filled with memories—proof that at one point, there had been love between us. As I looked around, my mind drifted back to my childhood. I was an orphan, with no family to care for me, scavenging for food on the streets. One day, I found a scrap of meat and held it up, triumphant. Suddenly, a starving dog lunged, grabbing it from me. Desperate, I fought it, wrestling the animal with everything I had. I sat against a dumpster, bruised and bleeding, chewing on what was left of that meat while watching children pass by, holding their parents’ hands and laughing with candy in their grasp. I wished I knew what that tasted like. A little girl in a princess dress noticed me. She let go of her mother’s hand and came over, holding out a piece of candy. “Here, this will make the pain go away,” she said, her smile radiant, angelic. That smile and that moment stayed with me, etched deeply into my heart. Years later, in college, I saw a woman who looked like the grown-up version of that little girl. Her name was Eliza Monroe, but she was already with Julian Hart. I buried my feelings, never daring to hope. When her family lost everything and Julian left, I stepped in. My company, Carrington Holdings, was just taking off, and I used every dollar I had to help her family. Her parents invited me to dinner, and that night, they sent Eliza into my arms. I knew they were after my money, but I had enough to spend a lifetime, and I was willing to use it for the woman I believed to be my angel. No matter what they wanted, I complied. I believed that if I loved her enough, I could take Julian’s place in her heart. I saw her as my sun, blinding myself to reality. But today, reality burned me to the core. I looked around the room, filled with remnants of our time together. Tears fell once more. I remembered the day we bought this house. Eliza had stood next to me, wearing a mask, her wide eyes sparkling as she gazed up at it and talked excitedly about the future. I had thought I’d won her heart completely. But she had probably been thinking of Julian even then. My phone buzzed with an alert—a hotel charge. Eliza didn’t have her own card; every expense went through mine. I knew exactly where she was: at The Grand Union Hotel, still in her wedding gown with Julian. Just hours earlier, I had been holding her hand, asking her if she’d marry me. How could the angel I once adored have turned into this? I sank onto the sofa, hands over my face, as tears came once more. Three days later, after packing up all the reminders of our relationship, I sat in the now-bare living room, waiting for the moving truck. The front door opened unexpectedly. Eliza walked in, laughing with Julian, their happiness like a knife in my heart. ###

Eliza froze when she saw the empty room. She pulled away from Julian, storming up to me. “Blake Carrington, what do you think you’re doing? Haven’t you caused enough trouble at the wedding?” she snapped. “How dare you turn our house into this? Are you out of your mind?” Julian, ever the actor, chimed in with mock regret. “Eliza told you, those weddings were just tests. I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been so concerned for her.” He shifted the blame neatly onto me, painting me as the unreasonable one. I stared at them, the smirk barely hidden on Julian’s face and the superiority in Eliza’s eyes, and I laughed. “Let me guess, I’m supposed to beg for your forgiveness?” “Should I apologize for being humiliated and then apologize again for the inconvenience?” Eliza didn’t catch the sarcasm, nodding as if satisfied. “If you’d just apologize properly, we might be able to work this out,” she said, looking me up and down before adding, “But like this? Never.” “Blake Carrington, we’re going to file for divorce tomorrow.” Eliza had used the threat of divorce before, and each time, I’d caved for the sake of love. Not this time. Julian, sensing my silence, egged me on. “See? He’s too proud, too weak. Can’t even apologize for his wife.” I chuckled, the absurdity of it all finally sinking in. If Eliza had been my wife in the true sense, I would have apologized for anything. I’d fought stray dogs for scraps; there was no humiliation I couldn’t endure. But she wasn’t my wife. She had just come from a hotel room with Julian, her face still flushed from whatever they’d done. And they expected me to apologize. “Fine, you want an apology?” I said, eyes locked on hers. “Tell me, Eliza, where were you these past two days?” Her face paled, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on her brow. She knew that without me, she was nothing. She tried to sound fierce. “I was at my parents’. What, I can’t visit them when I’m upset? At least Julian cares enough to check on me. Have you ever done that?” Even now, she was trying to manipulate me, turning my love against me. I pulled out my phone and held it up for her to see. “Look closely. The hotel room charge is right here. Still want to lie to me?” She slapped the phone out of my hand, shouting, “Hotel? I don’t know anything about that!” “Blake, if you’d just come to your senses, maybe I’d forgive you! Even if you leave, you’re leaving the house and the dowry. That’s my compensation for wasted years.” Compensation? For what? Since we started dating, she hadn’t spent a single cent of her own. Now, millions in wedding expenses down the drain because of Julian’s provocations, and she dared to demand money from me? I reached into my bag, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted, and tossed them at her feet. “Here’s your compensation.” “Trash belongs with trash. I hope you both have a long, miserable life together.”

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In the sixth year of our marriage, Jason cheated on me. I found a long, chestnut-colored hair on his underwear that didn’t belong to me. Huh, looks like he’s been having some fun. That bastard couldn’t even give me the decency of a seven-year itch excuse. I stormed into the living room and threw the hair into Jason’s bowl as he was having a late-night snack. Then, I packed my things as quickly as possible and called my best friend Rachel to help me move my luggage. After that, I left the home we had shared for six years without looking back. Jason just watched me coldly, not saying a word, let alone trying to stop me. “Congrats on escaping that hellhole, sis. Where should we go to celebrate tonight?” Rachel asked, driving her new G-Wagon with one hand while pushing her black sunglasses up her nose with the other.

I leaned back in my seat, staring blankly at the river under the bridge. My facade of strength and coolness was fading, and emotions were starting to take over. Jason and I had known each other for ten years, been in love for eight, and married for six. We had built everything from scratch, from having nothing to our company being on the verge of going public. We had seen so many broken marriages among our relatives and friends. I always believed that Jason and I were the perfect soulmates. The only flaw was that we had been sleeping in separate beds for all these years. But that was Jason’s choice. He said love was just love, the purest and most sacred human emotion. Anything done in the name of love was moral blackmail against love itself. I believed him, but now? A single strand of hair shattered my eight years of self-deception. “Damn it! Lily, if you dare cry, I swear I’ll drive this car straight into the river!” Rachel exclaimed dramatically. My carefully cultivated emotions instantly crumbled. I glared at her, annoyed. “Can you please act like a normal human being? I just got cheated on, can’t you let me wallow for a bit?” Rachel scoffed, twisting her mouth in disdain. “Remember when we were the two campus beauties back in law school? So many guys chasing after us, but you wouldn’t give them the time of day. Then you fell for Jason from the Finance department. What did he have going for him besides his looks?” “Being handsome is the biggest advantage. Even if he did nothing but lie in bed, just looking at his face was enough to make me happy.” Rachel let out a loud “Fuck!” and tossed her sunglasses into the backseat. “You’re hopeless. Think about it – he had a bombshell like you by his side for eight years and didn’t sleep with you. I bet he’s impotent.” I let out a cold laugh. If he was impotent, how could he cheat? Hiding hair in his underwear and playing such dirty games – I was utterly disgusted. “Maybe I’ve become ugly now, and he can’t get it up for me anymore.” Rachel’s jaw dropped in shock, and she reflexively slapped the steering wheel. “Damn that Jason! What kind of twisted ideas has he been feeding you? If I were a guy, I’d drag you to the backseat right now.” True friends are the real deal. “Just focus on your driving,” I spat, continuing to stare out at the river. It wasn’t until Rachel slammed on the brakes that I realized we weren’t at my villa in the south of the city. Jason and I had bought a villa there in my name. We had planned to invite his parents from the countryside to live with us after the New Year, but now it seemed that wouldn’t be happening. “A nightclub? It’s too noisy, I don’t want to go,” I said, looking at the large, flashing neon sign that read “Light Years” at the entrance. “Miss White, you’re here!” A tall, skinny young man with green hair, wearing tight pants and loafers, came out of the club and greeted Rachel intimately. Rachel turned off the engine and got out, tossing her keys to him from a distance. “Two tasks: first, get that beauty out of the passenger seat; second, park the car in the garage.” “You got it.” The green-haired young man caught the keys mid-air, opened the driver’s door, and sat down. Then he turned to look at me, leaning in closer. “Sister~” he called out, his voice dripping with charm and coquettishness. I pulled my coat tighter around me. “I’m getting out now.” Rachel saw how flustered I was and chuckled, hooking her arm around my neck as we walked in. It had been years since I’d been to a nightclub after marrying Jason. Just like I remembered, as soon as we pushed open the glass door that seemed like a barrier, deafening music flooded my eardrums. I frowned and turned to leave, but Rachel held me tight. I had no choice but to cover my ears and follow her inside.

We made our way through the crowd of wildly dancing people to a booth. Rachel ordered drinks with familiarity, and soon the table was filled with an array of colorful cocktails. “No men tonight, I’m here to keep you company. Here, Lily.” Rachel handed me a bottle of alcohol with a grand gesture, then grabbed one for herself and took a swig. I swirled the blue liquid in the bottle, wondering when drinks had become so pretty. I took a sip and licked my lips. Not bad, it was sweet and sour. It was more like an alcoholic beverage than actual liquor. Seeing me start to drink, Rachel burst into laughter. “Ladies, why drink alone? Want to play a game with us?” A cool-looking guy with a flashy thick chain around his neck and black gemstone earrings tilted his head and invited us. I glanced at the sofa next to us and shook my head. A bunch of kids who looked barely of age – what fun could that be? “My baby just got cheated on and isn’t in the mood. Maybe next time,” Rachel waved her hand, declining as well. “No way! Even a beauty like you gets cheated on? Congrats, sis, you’re free now.” The guy gave me a thumbs up. If it weren’t for his sincere expression that didn’t seem mocking, I would have smacked him with the bottle. He was congratulating me for being cheated on? How brain-dead do you have to be to say something like that? Seeing that we really weren’t interested, the guy shrugged and left. I leaned back on the sofa and took out my phone from my bag, turning on the screen. “Hmph, that bastard hasn’t even called or messaged once.” I angrily tossed my phone onto the seat next to me and kicked off my high heels. From the corner of my eye, I caught a burning gaze. I turned to look. It came from the table next to us, from a handsome guy sitting next to the chain-wearing guy from earlier. The guy was staring right at me, and when he saw me looking, he boldly raised an eyebrow instead of looking away. I rolled my eyes and turned away. He was pretty handsome, not much worse than Jason. But were young guys these days all so confident and sleazy? For a while after that, I could feel that unabashed, burning gaze from the next table every now and then. I really didn’t like the feeling and was about to get up and tell Rachel we should leave. Suddenly, the booming music that had been filling the air stopped, as if someone had hit pause. But immediately after, everyone started rushing towards the dance floor. I didn’t know what was happening and looked around in confusion. Then I saw the handsome guy from the next table who had been staring at me walk straight over, the corner of his lips curled up in a smile as he extended his hand to me. “You seem down today. It’s midnight now, want to go wild on the dance floor?” “Let’s go, Lily! It’s midnight, time to party!” Rachel jumped up from the sofa. “No thanks, I’ll wait for you here. We can leave after you’re done partying.” I shook my head in refusal. Rachel knew my personality well. Seeing my firm attitude, she didn’t push further and ran off to the dance floor herself. The handsome guy raised an eyebrow, withdrew his hand, and turned to head towards… the stage. So the DJ was this handsome! The guy was operating the turntables on stage, with the crazy crowd going wild on the dance floor in front of him. As I was staring at him curiously, unable to look away, he suddenly looked over at me and pointed his finger straight at me. Everyone on the dance floor turned to look at me, and I suddenly felt very uncomfortable and self-conscious. A few girls in matching outfits ran over and forcibly pulled me onto the dance floor, dancing around me. Oh god, this must be what they call “hype girls,” right? I stood there awkwardly among them, moving stiffly and feeling utterly embarrassed. People on the dance floor started snickering, and I angrily glared at the instigator on stage. But I saw that he also looked shocked, forgetting to DJ for a moment. It was as if he had never seen such an uncoordinated newbie at a club before. Luckily, Rachel saved me. She let out a loud yell, drawing everyone’s attention, and started swaying her hips. The music on stage started up again. People once again lost themselves in the frenzy of the atmosphere. Rachel was really getting into it, pulling out her hair clip and letting her long hair cascade down. Her chestnut-colored curls seemed to come alive, swaying with her movements – it looked amazing. Suddenly, my heart skipped a beat. In a flash of insight, I felt like I had grasped something. Chestnut-colored curls? Bathroom? Jason’s underwear? I pushed my way through the crowd in front of me, not caring about anything else, and rushed to Rachel’s side, grabbing her tightly. Rachel was startled and quickly stopped dancing. “Lily, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” I stared at her intently, licking my dry lips, and asked, “Rachel, the day before yesterday when Jason wasn’t home, after you showered at my place, did you use my hair dryer?” Rachel nodded, “Yeah, why? Did it go missing? I left it on top of the washing machine.” I looked at her for a long moment, then suddenly burst out laughing. “So it was you! The laundry basket next to the washing machine had Jason’s unwashed underwear in it. You must have shed some hair!” Jason hadn’t cheated on me! I had misunderstood him! Thinking about how I had thrown the hair into his bowl, I felt a pang of regret. Jason had severe germaphobia. Oh god, what had I done? I needed to go home right away. I needed to tell him that I had misunderstood him. He hadn’t betrayed me. It was all my fault for jumping to conclusions without thinking. I needed to apologize to him. “You keep partying, I have to go,” I said, letting go of Rachel and running towards the exit. The taxi dropped me off at the entrance of our neighborhood. It was only then that I realized I had left my phone and bag at the nightclub. Fortunately, the security guard recognized me and helped me pay for the taxi. I jogged into the complex, feeling guilty and excited as I ran towards our home. Just as I was about to turn the corner to our building, a gentle male voice stopped me in my tracks. The voice sounded crystal clear in the silent night. “Babe, why did you come here?” Jason! This voice had become a part of my life, but I had never heard Jason speak in such a tender and affectionate tone. For a moment, I thought Jason had seen me. But the female voice that followed completely shattered my illusion.

“I heard something was off in your voice on the phone, so I was worried and came to check on you. What’s wrong? Is she… upstairs?” “She left. She found out I betrayed her.” “How is that possible?” The woman seemed incredulous. “We always go to my place, and you clean up thoroughly afterward. How could she know?” “It’s all because of you,” Jason’s voice was husky, the same raspy tone he used when he could barely control himself while holding me. “You were too wild that day, and your hair… got stuck in my underwear. Olivia, I loved how you were that day. Come upstairs with me. She won’t be back tonight.” Jason’s voice was full of desire. But what shocked me most was the name Olivia. Jason’s girlfriend from eight years ago, so long ago that I didn’t recognize her voice at first. Ten years ago, when I fell for Jason, he had a girlfriend from his hometown. Somehow, they broke up two years later. I pursued Jason right after he became single. When I first got together with Jason, Olivia came to make a scene once, crying and causing a commotion outside our classroom. In the end, Jason came to pick me up and sternly warned her off. I never saw her again after that. “I can’t stay long. That idiot husband of mine will be back from overtime soon, and the kid is still sleeping. I need to hurry back.” Damn, I cursed inwardly. She has a family and a child, yet she’s out here cheating. “Olivia, don’t go. I want you, just once. I promise I’ll be quick.” Then, in the darkness, I heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down, followed by some indescribable impact sounds. I wanted to leave, but my feet seemed rooted to the ground, unable to move. With a low growl from Jason, Olivia let out a surprised gasp. Then everything went quiet, with only the panting of those two animals rising and falling. I felt nauseous. Eight years! So it wasn’t that Jason didn’t like sex, he just didn’t like having sex with me. My heart turned ice cold, and my whole body shook violently. The heartache made it hard to stand. I leaned against the wall and bent over. “Jason, pull out. You said just once, and I need to go,” Olivia said, breathlessly. “I’d never lie to you. I said once, and I’ll let you go soon.” “Haha, that was pretty quick indeed. Quite honest of you, big brother.” Suddenly, a mocking male voice sounded behind me. “Who’s there?!” Jason shouted sternly, with sounds of frantic movement in the darkness. I was startled and quickly turned around. In the darkness, I could only see a tall figure, unable to make out the face. Suddenly, a flashlight beam shone over. “Lily?” Jason’s voice trembled slightly, as if in disbelief. And I, following the light he shone, saw clearly who was behind me. It was the handsome DJ guy from the club!

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When Brandon Ashford’s old flame came back into his life, I took our son and flew to America. People said I didn’t even register on their radar, that I was nothing but a worthless, spoiled wife, hiding from a fight like an ostrich with its head in the sand. But someday, I’d walk tall and watch them all eat their words beneath my feet. 0Brandon’s high school sweetheart, Claire, is back. Back in senior year, he entered the Young Innovators Award and met Claire Emerson. I’d heard she was pretty, clever, outgoing, and came from an affluent family. The two of them were young, in love, and even planned to go to the same university. But things didn’t work out that way—Brandon was accepted to Harvard, but Claire… who knows what happened with her? I figured they broke up because of the distance. But then a mutual friend dropped the real story on me. “Jazz, didn’t you know? That girl tried to blackmail Brandon by threatening to end her own life if he went to Harvard! She actually tried to trap him into staying with her.” Blackmail? Threats? Giving up Harvard? I shook my head. This story sounded like something out of a cheesy romance novel. Brandon and I, meanwhile, were childhood friends. Our families had been partners in business for generations. Years ago, when my father’s mistress showed up, taunting my mom over the phone, my mom flew back to the U.S. in the middle of the night. That led me to apply to Harvard, where Brandon and I ended up in the same program. When I saw him again, I was taken aback by how much he’d grown into his looks. But strangely, I didn’t feel any of those romantic sparks. Our connection was more like an unspoken understanding—a bond that felt familiar, like the relationship between our parents. I’d thought my mom would divorce my dad, but she didn’t. She told me, “Love and marriage aren’t the same. We’ve been married for years, and we trust each other. We’re also tied together by shared businesses and a social network that isn’t easily untangled. And if that other woman’s showing up at our door, it just proves her stupidity. If your father had any intention of being with her, she wouldn’t have had to resort to that.” “But Dad still cheated,” I whispered, looking down. “You always told me, ‘Once a cheater, always a cheater.’” My mom just smiled knowingly. “Maybe so, but remember, that woman claimed your father was with her at Lakewood Hot Springs on the day he was actually in Hong Kong with your grandparents.” I blinked. My mind was spinning. “Jazz, no matter whom you marry—business partner or not—remember this: love clouds reason. Never act on impulse.” “Then why did you storm back to the States that time?” I asked, grinning. She laughed again. “Otherwise, how would I have gotten you to give up Charleston and go to Harvard?” 0

I’d been played. All my life, I’d dreamed of the romantic charm of Charleston, of living on a sprawling estate in the middle of a sea of lavender. But as the sole heir of the Eastwood Family business, I had to put in the effort if I wanted the freedom to live as I pleased. So, when Claire asked me to meet up, I agreed. She came bursting with excitement, eager to show me her memories with Brandon and their matching tattoos. She preened like a proud peacock, and I barely contained my laughter. “It’s rare to see a mistress be this bold,” scoffed my friend Erica, my childhood friend with a firecracker temper and a sharp tongue. “Bold?” Claire arched an eyebrow. “This is love. What’s bold about that? I came here to make you face reality, stop hiding, and pretending I don’t exist. Brandon told me I’m the one he loves, the one he cares about, the one he can’t live without. You two have nothing in common, yet you cling to the title of Mrs. Ashford? Why not just let him go? I’ll make sure Brandon gives you a generous settlement. You’re still young…” “Smack!” Erica’s face went red with fury, and her hand landed across Claire’s face. Claire blinked in shock, then clutched her cheek and screeched, “How dare you hit me?” Her shouting pierced the quiet of the private room, and curious staff couldn’t help peeking in to check if we needed assistance. I was stunned—not because Erica hit her, but because Claire was screaming like a madwoman, even reaching to grab Erica’s hair. And she actually had the nerve to say I was “clinging” to the title of Mrs. Ashford? That I was just a housewife? “Tell Brandon to ask for a divorce if that’s what he wants. I’ll walk away on the spot,” I said calmly, letting the chaos simmer down. Claire looked taken aback. “All this, and you’re still holding on? I didn’t realize you were so stubborn.” She gave a smug smile. “Fine, I’ll have Brandon come to you, then. Just don’t cry and refuse when he asks for it.” I nodded, pulled Erica to her feet, and left. “Hey, you haven’t paid!” Claire called out. I glanced at the untouched tea, totaling over $400. Smiling, I replied, “The owner is a friend of mine, so it’s on my tab. If you can’t finish, feel free to take it home.” 0

In the days that followed, Brandon never mentioned a word about divorce. Everything seemed normal—except he started coming home a bit later than usual. I asked him about it, and he said an old friend wanted to start a new project and was looking for investors. He was still considering it. I asked him to send over the details. Sure enough, when I opened the file, Claire Emerson was listed as one of the founders. And after looking through the pitiful revenue and chaotic financials, I just shook my head. Here she was, trying to get investors for this disaster of a company, in an economy where everyone else was tightening their belts. She had some nerve. “What do you think?” Brandon asked. I hadn’t let on yet that Claire had already come to see me. We’d been married for years now, and we already had a son. We were even considering trying for a girl. A nice, balanced family. But here comes Claire, dropping back into our lives, just as my mother would call it—a disruption to what was really a business alliance between our families. Childhood friends, families with deeply interwoven ties—it was complicated. So complicated that a single change could pull everything apart. I just couldn’t believe Brandon would cheat, let alone get a divorce. “I think it’s best to be cautious,” I replied. “Since you’re more familiar with this field, you should handle it.” Relieved, I handed him a bowl of special soup I’d made for his stomach issues. He took it with a smile, not needing to ask what it was. The next day, I came to the office with a fully prepared proposal. I’d hardly been in the office recently, with us trying for another child, so the long-time employees looked at me with surprise, clearly curious. The newer employees didn’t even know who I was. Just as I reached Brandon’s office, I heard Claire’s familiar voice, pleading, “Brandon, please, you’ve got to help me. This is my dream!” Brandon didn’t reply. I knocked and opened the door. Claire was sitting next to him on the sofa, casually leaning close. Her low-cut dress practically invited the world to see her bra. I ignored her, calmly setting my papers on the desk. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything?” “Not at all, babe! This is Claire, the one I told you about,” Brandon replied quickly, standing up like he’d been shocked and moving to my side. I caught the flash of irritation in Claire’s eyes as she looked innocently at Brandon. “Jazz, you’re gorgeous! I’m surprised he never mentioned you.” Right. As if my existence was something she had to be “informed” about. After all, she managed to walk right in, didn’t she? Brandon looked uncomfortable, and I smirked. “Since when do people talk about their families with strangers?” I handed him a thermos. “I heard you have a drinking event tonight, so I made this for you. I’ve got plans to meet Mrs. Young for tea later.” He smiled gratefully; he didn’t even need to open it to know what was inside. But Claire didn’t let it go. “Oh, I’ll be at that dinner too! Jazz, what’s in the thermos? Could I try some?” Brandon frowned, setting the thermos aside. “This isn’t something just anyone should drink, Claire.” “Is it some kind of miracle hangover remedy?” She laughed lightly, pouting, “I thought all those housewives making home remedies was a soap opera trope, but I guess it’s real after all…” Neither of us laughed, and the room grew tense. Brandon’s grandmother, after all, was a well-known herbalist, and she’d created that particular recipe just for his stomach. Obviously, Claire had no idea. I sighed, realizing that this woman didn’t seem to have much upstairs. Nothing about her added up, and she wasn’t at all the type I’d imagine Brandon would like. With anyone else, he’d probably have already blown up at them. But for Claire, his patience seemed endless. After an uncomfortable silence, he looked at her with an unreadable expression. “Jazz knows a lot about the food industry, Claire. If you really want to go forward with this, why don’t you talk it over with her?” Huh? I was surprised. I could see why he wouldn’t want to reject her outright, but what was this about food? According to the file, her company was all about couples’ apps, nothing to do with the restaurant industry. But Claire missed my surprise and went on, oblivious. “Brandon, do you really think that someone who spends all her time having lunches and afternoon teas has industry knowledge? This is different. Plus, I’m opening a cat café targeting young professionals and students…” She looked at me with a challenging gleam in her eye. “You and I can handle the business discussions, Jazz. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your busy schedule of lunch dates.” I almost laughed. Was she serious? She couldn’t have done any real research if she thought she could look down on me like this. I, Jasmine Eastwood, eldest of the Eastwood Family and a Harvard economics PhD, “just” did lunches and teas? Did she have any idea how much a class taught by me would cost? I stared at her, amused by her smugness, even as I saw a hint of irritation in Brandon’s face. Why was he holding back? Was it because of his lingering feelings for her? He glanced at me apologetically. “I have a meeting soon, Claire. Talk to Jazz about it, as I suggested.” With that, he answered his phone and hurried out, leaving just the two of us. Claire dropped her act, sneering at me. “You really are something else, putting on this whole act to get his sympathy, showing up with soup and your pretty face. But Brandon and I are in this together. You? You can cook him soup. A housekeeper could do the same. Aside from spending his money, what else can you do?” “Talk business with you, obviously,” I said dryly, nodding toward the documents on the desk. “Brandon’s orders.” “Oh, come on,” she scoffed, her voice dripping with contempt. “He’s just being polite, letting you save face so you don’t accuse him of transferring your assets to me. You think he respects you? He’s just afraid you’ll embarrass him and drag the company down.” I stared at her, hardly believing her arrogance. The fact that she felt so comfortable speaking about “transferring assets” showed me she really didn’t know much. My silence made her bolder. “Brandon is so good to me, and not just with this. Tonight, at that big event, he’s taking me with him. Did you know I’m the first woman he’s brought along? It shows I’m the one he truly loves. You’re just sad, really. Married to him all these years and he’s never invited you. Poor thing…” She looked at me triumphantly. “It must be humiliating, huh? Go ahead, cry if you want to. Failed love, a failed marriage—it’s not the end of the world. You’re still pretty enough, and even if your family background’s not as great, Brandon would still give you a decent payout. Just let go. If you make a scene, you might not even get alimony.” I couldn’t help myself; I burst out laughing. I wasn’t just amused by her ridiculous logic but by her complete inability to understand what mattered to me. Love, feelings—those were trivial. What I cared about was control, and I had plenty of it. My career, my finances, my status—and yes, even my marriage. I had a child with Brandon, after all. And the fate of her so-called project was entirely in my hands. I looked at her blandly. “Stop dreaming. That glitch-riddled app or your cat café? Neither is getting any funding from us.” But Claire smiled, undeterred. “Jazz, don’t kid yourself. If I’m here, and if Brandon’s letting me ask in front of you, then it’s important to him. He’ll say yes.” I watched her saunter out and opened the window, letting the strong scent of her perfume blow away. With it went any uncertainty I might have felt. That night, I waited for Brandon to come home. At four in the morning, he stumbled in, reeking of alcohol and perfume—Dior J’adore, which I’d never worn. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Williams, shook her head in disapproval as she helped him into the bedroom. “I’ll make some sobering soup for him, Jazz,” she offered, seeing my expression. “Sweetheart,” he mumbled, trying to pull me into a hug. “Sit down. We need to talk,” I said, brushing him off. Claire had already confronted me, hinting at a romance and asking me to divorce him. His arm went stiff, but all he did was slur, “I love you, babe,” before passing out. I sighed. You can’t wake someone who’s faking sleep. The next morning, he’d already left for a sudden business trip to Seattle. But things took a turn when Mrs. Williams came to me, looking worried. “Jazz, I think Evan has a fever.” 0

I hurriedly called for a driver, and we rushed Evan to the hospital with Mrs. Williams by my side. Thankfully, it wasn’t flu season, so the private hospital was fairly empty, and the admission process went smoothly. I stayed with Evan until he fell asleep, then handed him over to Mrs. Williams so I could grab a quick bite in the small waiting room. Erica, who’d shown up by then, was furious. She slapped the table in frustration. “Jazz, I’m telling you—there’s something going on with Brandon and that woman. Call him right now. I don’t care about any business deal; he needs to get back here! Let’s see if he values money more than you and his son.” “It’s hardly comparable,” I replied, trying to keep my calm. Despite my own frustration, I’d been holding back. “He can’t hide forever; we can wait a couple of days.” “But Evan is sick!” “Evan has a doctor. It’s not as if Brandon’s one himself.” “See, that’s the problem!” Erica groaned, exasperated. “You’ve let him get too comfortable, Jazz. You’re way too good to him!” “Am I?” I chuckled to myself. This wasn’t about being good to Brandon; it was about protecting my son and myself. I wasn’t about to explode without solid evidence and give Claire—or anyone else—the satisfaction of seeing me unravel. Making a scene would just leave me looking petty and hysterical. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure he’s alone,” Erica muttered darkly, giving me a pointed look. “I bet he’s on this trip with her.” “Maybe not,” I said, finishing my cake and motioning toward the door. “Look—speak of the devil.” “What?” Still steaming, Erica whipped open the door and saw Claire approaching. Without missing a beat, she let loose. “You must have a bloodhound’s sense of smell to sniff out an opportunity like this!” Claire didn’t flinch. If anything, she smiled pleasantly, putting down a gift-wrapped drone on the table. “I heard Evan wasn’t well, and with Brandon out of town, I thought I’d drop by to visit and bring him a little gift.” She glanced at me, eyes twinkling. “Rough night, Jazz? Looks like you didn’t get much sleep. I guess Brandon told you he’s decided to invest in my cat café?” “Excuse me?” Her words took me by surprise, but I kept my face neutral. “He didn’t mention that. But if he plans to make any decisions, he’ll need the approval of the majority shareholder.” I pushed the drone back toward her. “Take this with you. My son doesn’t need your gifts.” “Really?” She feigned shock, flashing a syrupy smile. “Funny, he seemed to like the sneakers, the overalls, and the Lego set that Brandon picked out with me. Didn’t he tell you?” Her words hit me like a punch, tearing down any patience I had left. I felt a surge of heat, and in that instant, every shred of composure shattered. All the principles of self-control and dignity flew out the window. She had no right to even look at my son, much less give him anything! I was shaking as I grabbed the box and hurled it at her.

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My son Noah is three years old, but he doesn’t resemble my husband at all. My father-in-law, Mr. Leonard Carter, became suspicious and took Noah for a DNA test without telling anyone. The test results? No biological connection between them. Furious and humiliated, Mr. Carter yelled at me, even threatening to harm both me and my son. Then my husband Eric hit me, shouting, “You shameless woman! You’ve made me raise another man’s child for three years!” But then I revealed another DNA report—the one showing that Eric and Leonard Carter weren’t biologically related either. They were stunned as I chuckled, “Looks like it’s not so clear who’s really unrelated in this family…” — When Mr. Carter called, I was swamped with work at Hamilton & Co. Enterprises. His voice blared through the phone, “Jocelyn Carter, get home now! Or don’t blame me when your dirty secrets come out!” Before I could respond, he hung up, leaving me confused. I finished my tasks, grabbed my bag, and rushed home. As soon as I opened the door, he was there, sitting stiffly on the couch. Two papers were spread out on the table in front of him. I took off my shoes and asked, “Dad, what’s the emergency?” He sneered at me. “You really don’t know what you’ve done? Do I need to spell it out?” Frustration bubbled up inside me. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Just tell me.” He slammed the papers into my face. “Look for yourself! We hit rock bottom when Eric married you.” I glanced down and saw the bold text on the report: No biological relationship. The names listed were Leonard Carter and Noah Carter. I was shocked, realizing Mr. Carter had taken Noah for a paternity test. Anger flared within me as I retorted, “Dad, you’ve been saying Noah doesn’t look like Eric since he was born. I didn’t think much of it because Eric never complained. But you went behind our backs to get a DNA test—he’s only three!” Mr. Carter ignored my words, shouting, “And what’s wrong with that? If I hadn’t done it, who knows how long you would’ve kept us in the dark? Tell me—who’s his father? You’ve had us raising someone else’s kid for three years! My son is too trusting; if I weren’t sharp, you would’ve fooled us forever.” I tried to stay calm. “Dad, Noah is Eric’s son, and he’s your grandson. I haven’t betrayed anyone. There has to be something wrong with that report!” Mr. Carter’s rage escalated. He threw his cup to the floor, pointing a trembling finger at me. “You’re still lying! I took him to St. Vincent’s Medical Center myself and watched them draw his blood. Do you think I faked it? We can go again if you don’t believe me!” I didn’t know how to respond. Just then, Mrs. Helen Carter entered with groceries. Seeing the tense scene, she asked, “What’s going on? I just stepped out, and now it’s chaotic in here. What are you two fighting about?” Mr. Carter shot back, “You picked her for Eric. Look what she’s done—letting us raise someone else’s kid for three years! Where were your eyes back then?”

Mrs. Carter froze, her gaze landing on the report on the floor. I saw panic flash across her face, but before I could react, she slapped me. “Noah isn’t our grandson? How could you do this? Eric has been nothing but good to you! How could you betray us like this?” Mr. Carter chimed in. “Call your parents! I want to know what kind of people raised such a daughter. How dare you do something so disgraceful!” I struggled to keep my cool. “I’m telling you for the last time—Noah is Eric’s son. If you don’t believe me, wait for Eric to come home. He’ll take another DNA test with Noah, and we’ll settle this once and for all.” Mr. Carter glared but stayed silent, while Mrs. Carter yelled, “You’re acting shamelessly, still insisting on your innocence. Even if Eric comes back, he won’t forgive you! Why another test when the answer is clear? If Noah were Eric’s son, he’d have to be related to Mr. Carter. Do you think the hospital is helping you lie to us?” Just then, Noah appeared from his room. “Grandpa, Grandma, Mom, why are you fighting? Is dinner ready?” Seeing him, Mr. Carter snapped, “Who are you calling Grandpa and Grandma? We don’t even know whose kid you are. Get out!” Noah, confused by the sudden hostility, ran to me in tears. His crying only irritated Mr. Carter more. He yanked Noah away from me and gripped his shoulders. “What are you crying for? You’re not welcome here. Go find your real dad—get out of our house!” Mrs. Carter stood frozen, saying nothing. Seeing Noah’s face turn red, I pried Mr. Carter’s hand off him and held him close. Tears streamed down my face. “Let’s wait for Eric. He’ll know if Noah is his son.” Finally, Mr. Carter released Noah, shot me a disdainful look, and stomped back to his room. I took Noah to our bedroom and quickly texted Eric about everything that happened. His reply was just four cold words: I’m on my way. That brief message filled me with dread. Eric arrived around midnight. Hearing the front door open, I covered Noah and went to meet him. All my pent-up frustration spilled out. “Do you know what your dad did to Noah today? He nearly choked him! Are you even going to say something?” “Can you give it a rest? I just got home. Let me breathe, will you?” One look at his detached expression made my heart sink. The DNA report lay on the table, but he didn’t seem interested in it at all. He was ready to accept it without question. By now, both Mr. and Mrs. Carter had joined us. Mrs. Carter spoke first, “Eric, thank God you’re back. If you’d been any later, our family would’ve fallen apart! Ask her whose child she brought into this house.” Mr. Carter stood there, furious but silent. Finally, Eric broke the silence, “Where’s the child?”

He called Noah “the child,” not even using his name. That stung because I realized he didn’t believe Noah was his son. I took a deep breath. “Eric, we’ve been married for four years and known each other for six. Don’t you know what kind of person I am? If you won’t believe me, at least trust Noah.” Eric replied, “Four years doesn’t mean anything. Besides, Noah has never looked like me. Everyone says it. What else can I think?” I was left speechless, realizing I had no way to reason with them. “Fine. If none of you believe Noah is your son, let’s go to the hospital for another DNA test. Right now. I’ll get Noah.” As I turned to go to our room, Eric grabbed my arm. “Enough! You really want to drag this to the hospital? Aren’t you ashamed of this mess?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Why would I be ashamed? I have a clear conscience. If you’re so sure, let’s confirm it with another test.” In the silence of the night, my words hung in the air with a weight I hadn’t felt before. Eric looked ready to argue, but Mrs. Carter interrupted. “Why go to the hospital? We have a report right here! Or is Jocelyn claiming her own husband and father-in-law are framing her? That’s rich—how long have you been setting us up, Jocelyn?” Her accusation, so irrational and cruel, shocked me. I had never seen Mrs. Carter so cold and heartless. Realizing nothing I said would make a difference, I clenched my fists. After a long silence, Eric finally picked up the DNA report, barely glanced at it, and tossed it at me. “It’s all here in black and white. Noah isn’t Dad’s blood relative. If he’s my son, he’d have to be related to him. Anything to add? Or are you suggesting the hospital faked this?” I bit my lip. “I don’t know what went wrong with that report, but there’s definitely something…” I bit my lip, feeling the tension in the air. “I can’t pinpoint what’s wrong with this report, but something definitely is. If you trust me even a little, let’s have Noah take another test. We can clear this up.” Eric scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Why would I believe you over my own father?” His words hit me hard, freezing me in place. I knew he wouldn’t take my side, but hearing him say it stung more than I expected. “So, what happens now?” I asked, my voice shaky. “Are you going to kick us out of this house?” Mr. Carter exploded, shooting up from his chair. “So you admit it! I knew Eric made a mistake marrying you. Raising another man’s child for three years! How are you going to repay us for that?” Mrs. Carter chimed in, “Exactly. I treated you and Noah like family, only to find out I was being deceived. Do you even feel any shame?” I couldn’t hold back anymore. “When did I admit to anything? You’re just throwing accusations without any evidence. What do you want from me?” Smack! Eric’s hand struck my face in a sharp slap. He glared at me, rage boiling over. “I’m giving you one last chance to tell the truth. Who is Noah’s father? If you don’t speak up, I’ll make sure everyone in town knows exactly what you’ve done.” I rubbed my stinging cheek, defiance flooding my voice. “Go ahead and spread the word. I have nothing to hide.” Eric yanked my collar, venom dripping from his words. “You think you can play me for a fool? How long has this been going on? I should have known better than to marry someone like you!” I closed my eyes, feeling defeated. “Fine. Let’s get a divorce. I’ll take Noah since none of you care about him anyway.” The mention of divorce seemed to push Eric over the edge. “Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Take your illegitimate child and leave. Get out! I never want to see either of you again. I should have gotten rid of him at birth.” I was shocked. I had never heard Eric say anything so cruel before. Before I could respond, Mrs. Carter stormed into our bedroom, tossing my belongings into the hallway. The noise startled Noah awake. He stumbled out of his room and, seeing Eric, ran to him. “Daddy! You’re back! I missed you…” But before he could finish, Eric shoved him away. Noah crashed against the edge of the table, and I saw blood trickle from his forehead. I gathered Noah into my arms, my heart breaking as he sobbed. “Eric! He’s just three years old! How could you do this?” Eric’s expression was stone cold. “Why should I care? I don’t even know who he is. If I didn’t hurt him more, it was out of pity. You have no right to judge me.” The room fell silent. I was seeing this family’s true colors. Mr. Carter pointed toward the door. “Get out. You and your brat don’t belong here.” Mrs. Carter threw my ID on the floor. “Didn’t you hear him? Leave, and take your bastard with you!” I wiped Noah’s tears away, still holding him close. I took one last look around the room and said, “Eric, just know this will come back to haunt you.” With that, I carried Noah out. Even as the door closed behind us, their hateful words echoed in my ears, each one sharper than the last. After taking Noah to St. Vincent’s Medical Center for stitches, I rented a room at The Briarwood Inn for the night. He eventually fell asleep, his little face so innocent and unaware of the chaos around him. I couldn’t shake the thought of how he had no genetic ties to Mr. Carter. Grandparents and grandchildren share some DNA, so something didn’t add up. After some thought, I decided to head to Memorial Public Hospital to ask a few questions. The next day, after dropping Noah off at Little Pines Preschool, I went to the hospital. While waiting, I looked over a chart about blood types and heredity and noticed something odd. I remembered the health reports of Mr. and Mrs. Carter. Both were type O, which meant their children should also be type O. But Eric’s last screening—one I had helped him fill out—showed him as type A. It hit me like a ton of bricks. How could that be possible? I froze for a moment, then it clicked—Mrs. Carter knew. That’s why she was so desperate to get me out of the family and block any retesting for Eric and Noah. She was hiding something. A laugh bubbled up. It felt like a twist from some soap opera, the kind of story you’d never believe could actually happen. If Mr. Carter and Eric discovered this, the entire family would implode. After everything they’d put me and Noah through, I was determined to make things right. With a new sense of purpose, I headed to Brooks & Wallace Law Firm to sort out my finances and finalize the divorce paperwork. Besides getting Eric to sign, there was one more thing I needed to do.

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