Category: English

On his birthday, Alex Thornton, the frat boy sponsored by my wife, Vanessa Caldwell, posted on Twitter: “Happy 22nd birthday to me! Nobody else remembered, but my superstar sister sure did!” The post was tagged at a couples-themed restaurant. The picture attached was a selfie of him with my wife—faces practically touching. The top comment read, “Wow, spending your birthday with Vanessa Caldwell? And at that restaurant? Are you two together?” Alex replied directly to that comment: “Hehe, almost there.” I used my verified account to like the comment, and within minutes, Vanessa called me, furious. “Why are you liking that comment with your official account? It’s just a birthday dinner with Alex! Don’t be so petty. Just say it was an accident—fans are asking questions!” I could faintly hear Alex’s voice in the background, “If it makes him happy to see me getting hate online, that’s fine. After all, he’s just a former Academy Award Winner.” I hung up. What she didn’t remember was that it was also my birthday. I had spent three years building Vanessa’s career, three more years stepping back from the spotlight to do it, and two years in a secret marriage to protect her public image. Eight years of loving her. But now, I was done. It was time for me to make a comeback. …… Content

When Vanessa came home that night, I was playing with the kitten I’d just bought. Vanessa hated cats and dogs. Years ago, she’d secretly gotten rid of the cat I’d raised for five years. Since then, I hadn’t dared to bring another pet home. “Ethan, what the hell is this? You know I hate cats!” Vanessa shrieked. I glanced at her, unfazed, and continued petting the kitten. “Oh, stop sulking already! Alex just graduated and needs my help. Why are you jealous of him? I’ll make it up to you later, okay?” she said, pinching her nose like she was doing me a favor. When I ignored her, she got mad. She grabbed the kitten roughly and threw it aside, then shoved me. “Apologize to Alex! You’re a grown man throwing tantrums over a frat boy!” The kitten let out a sharp cry, scrambled back to me, and hissed at her. I hadn’t expected Vanessa to shove me that hard. My stomach hit the edge of the table, and a sharp pain flared up—my chronic gastric condition was back. I hadn’t eaten dinner, hoping Vanessa would come home to celebrate my birthday. Seeing Alex’s tweet had ruined my appetite entirely. Now, the stress had triggered the pain, leaving me speechless. My gastric issues had started during those years of pushing Vanessa’s career. Long nights drinking with producers and directors, always taking a backseat to let her shine—it had worn me down. Vanessa’s expression wavered when she saw my face pale. “Where’s your medication? I’ll get it,” she said, rummaging through the living room. “I thought it was here… but—” She froze, her face shifting guiltily. She remembered. The day before, she’d taken my medication to Alex. “Alex crashed his car, Ethan! Where’s the first aid kit?” she had yelled as she burst through the door. Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed the box where I kept my gastric meds. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll take this for now!” she had said, rushing out. Normally, I would’ve been angry, demanding why my medication was going to Alex. But today, I was just tired—tired in every way. “I’ll run out and buy more. Hold on,” Vanessa said, voice uneasy. She tried to help me to the couch, but the kitten hissed, and she backed off. “I don’t know why you bought this stupid thing,” she muttered. Keys in hand, she headed for the door but stopped when her phone rang. “Vanessa! Those debt collectors are at my place again,” Alex sobbed on the other end. “They said if I don’t pay up tonight, they’ll break my hand! Please, help me!” “What?!” Vanessa’s delicate face showed panic she’d never had for me. “They dare mess with my people? I’ll be right there!” “But it’s so late… won’t Ethan get mad?” Alex whimpered. “Like I care what he thinks!” Vanessa snapped. She glanced at me before stepping out. “I’ll buy your meds later. Alex is in danger.” I wanted to tell her I wanted a divorce. Instead, I watched her leave, clutching a business card I had meant to use as a surprise. It was from an internationally renowned director, someone Vanessa had admired for years. I tore it into pieces.

It was past midnight, and Vanessa still wasn’t home. The kitten curled up beside me, licking my hand as if sensing my pain. I knew she wouldn’t come back, but part of me couldn’t help hoping. Eventually, the pain forced me to order medicine through a delivery app. While waiting, a notification popped up—another post from Alex on Twitter. This time, it was a photo of Vanessa standing protectively in front of him, shielding him from a group of men. “Those debt collectors finally left after Vanessa threw money and threats at them,” he wrote. “I got a little hurt, but Vanessa’s taking me to the hospital now.” The comments were buzzing. “Is that Vanessa Caldwell again? She and that frat boy are such a cute pair!” Alex replied, “Thanks for the support! Keep shipping us—we’ve got plenty of sweet moments for you!” My heart twisted. Vanessa had insisted on keeping our marriage a secret, claiming it would hurt her career. Yet here she was, flaunting an ambiguous relationship with Alex in public. Did this not hurt her career? Alex had only suffered a small injury, and Vanessa was frantic. But just a month ago, at the Golden Laurel Award ceremony, Vanessa had stepped over me—literally. I’d gotten her that award through relentless networking and favors. As she accepted her trophy, I was cornered by men whose toes Vanessa’s rise had stepped on. “A washed-up actor trying to snag resources from our boss?” the leader sneered before his group beat me down. Through the haze of pain, I saw Vanessa holding Alex’s hand, walking by without even stopping. That night, bruised and battered, I confronted her at home. “Why didn’t you help me? Why didn’t you call the police?” “I didn’t think it was that serious,” she stammered, avoiding my eyes. “You were scared they’d hurt Alex, weren’t you?” Vanessa didn’t deny it. “Come with me to file a report. You saw it happen—you and Alex can testify.” “Oh, come on, Ethan. It was just a scuffle! You’re fine, aren’t you?” she snapped. That night, I realized how much I had lost—not just my health but my dignity. The next day, I called my old agent. “I’m ready to come back. Got any roles for me?”

When I woke up, Vanessa Caldwell was already home. She sat on the couch, scrolling through her phone. As soon as she saw me, she barked, “Your medicine’s on the table. Looks like you survived the night without it. Why were you acting so dramatic?” I gave her a faint smile. “I already bought some.” Vanessa visibly relaxed, then said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, “Well, since you’re fine, take me to Pinewood Studios. My new film starts today. By the way, what happened with that international director you were supposed to connect me with? I knew you’d mess it up. You’re more useless every day.” I always drove Vanessa to her set openings. Even though I had left the industry, I was still respected as a former Academy Award Winner. People knew about our relationship and would give her extra attention because of me. But as I thought about the director’s card I tore up last night, a quiet satisfaction settled in my chest. On the way to Pinewood, Vanessa started whining about wanting iced water. I reached into the backseat to get it for her, only to spot a pair of men’s boxers lying there. Vanessa sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes darting nervously to mine. If this had been the past, I would’ve demanded to know whose they were, pressed her to keep Alex Thornton away. But now, I just smiled faintly and said nothing. “Alex got caught in the rain once,” she began hastily. “I went to pick him up, and he changed in the car. I didn’t realize he left… that… behind.” “Vanessa,” I interrupted, keeping my voice calm. “Did you know that Alex’s birthday is the same day as mine?” Her face froze. Her gaze wavered, guilt flickering across her features. “I… I forgot. I’ll make it up to you later, okay?” I didn’t respond, just handed her the water and resumed driving. She didn’t realize there wouldn’t be a “later” for us. At the studio, staff glanced at us with unease, their curiosity palpable. Then the pain hit me again—sharp and relentless. I took a deep breath, willing myself to endure it. A co-star of Vanessa’s, someone she was friendly with, couldn’t hold back any longer. She walked over and asked, “Vanessa, what’s going on with you and that frat boy? And what about Ethan?” Vanessa shot me a quick, nervous look before saying, “One for home, one for fun. Why wouldn’t I go for someone younger and more energetic?” The actress looked stunned, then glanced at me with a mix of disbelief and pity before walking away. Once she left, Vanessa grabbed my hand, her tone urgent. “You know how it is. Alex just graduated, and he wants to break into the industry. With me and you supporting him, it’s good for all of us.” I nodded absently, noncommittal. Sitting through Vanessa’s scenes was tedious. Her acting had once been terrible, and I had painstakingly coached her until she could make it through a take without mistakes. Even her public image, once abysmal, had been molded by me. She was like a rose I had nurtured—beautiful, yes, but now her thorns were tearing me apart. During the most pivotal scene of the day, Vanessa’s phone rang. She dropped everything to answer it, halting the entire production. “Vanessa!” Alex’s pitiful voice rang out over the quiet set. “I went to audition for that role you recommended me for, but the team doesn’t take me seriously. They don’t think I’m good enough. Can you come and back me up?” “How dare they! I’ll be right there!” Vanessa snapped, grabbing her purse to leave. “Mrs. Caldwell, we’re not done here…” the director began, trying to stop her. Vanessa ignored him entirely. I stepped in, grabbing her wrist. “If you walk out of this set now, your reputation will be ruined,” I warned. Her face darkened. “Are you threatening me? Did you not hear Alex needs me?” “Alex, Alex, Alex,” I murmured bitterly. “If you leave this set, we’re getting divorced,” I said, my voice cold and final. Vanessa looked at me in shock, then scoffed. “Using divorce as a threat, Ethan? Nice try. We’ll talk about this later.” She yanked her arm free, shoving me hard as she stormed off. My stomach, already on fire, couldn’t take the force. I fell to the ground, the pain unbearable. “Ethan, are you okay?” The crew rushed to help me. Vanessa, do you see this? Strangers care more for me than you ever have. Why am I still holding on? I took my medication, forcing the pain down, and turned to the director. “This film just started production, right? Not much has been shot?” The director nodded hesitantly. “Replace Vanessa’s scenes. I’ll take her role and fund the project myself,” I said firmly.

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My dad, Captain Logan Turner, is the leader of a search-and-rescue team. During a field training exercise at Glacier Ridge, Montana, his team discovered skeletal remains buried in the snow. After calling the police, he immediately phoned my adoptive sister, Heather Blake, instructing her to cancel her upcoming hiking trip. One of the team members reminded him, “Shouldn’t you call Melanie, too?” But he snapped, “Why bother with that wretched monster? Better if she’s dead out there!” What he didn’t know was that I had already died. Those broken bones in front of him—they were my remains. And yet, he failed to recognize his own daughter. Content 0 “The bones show multiple impact marks from sharp objects, and they’re incomplete,” said one of the experienced officers at the scene. “This doesn’t look like an accident—it seems like murder.” My skeletal remains were uncovered from the snow. The officer made his judgment immediately. My dad nodded gravely, promising to recover the rest of the remains. Before taking action, he pulled out his phone and called Heather. “Heather, there’s been a murder up on the mountain. Cancel that hiking trip you signed up for. Stay home for the next few days and be careful.” “Yes, Dad, I will,” Heather replied sweetly. But Dad still couldn’t rest easy and gave her a few more warnings until she playfully complained, “Dad, you’ve said it a million times—I got it!” Only then did he hang up. One of his team members, Paul Harrison, spoke up. “Hey, Captain, didn’t I hear your younger daughter mention she was planning a hiking trip, too? Maybe give her a call?” My dad’s face instantly darkened with irritation. “Why bring up that worthless brat?” “That heartless monster who stood by as her own mother died? I’d be glad if she dropped dead out there.” Even though I was already dead, a cold gust seemed to pierce through me. I shivered. So, this is how much my dad hates me. But why didn’t he recognize me? Didn’t he realize that these pitiful bones in front of him belonged to the daughter he despised so much? 0

The search lasted a full day and night. The team combed every inch of the mountain. My dad worked tirelessly for 48 hours without rest. Yet, despite all their efforts, they had found very little of me. When the police questioned him, his face was heavier than before. “We’ve searched the entire mountain and found only a single leg bone.” “I suspect the victim’s body was dismembered and scattered here deliberately.” The officer was stunned. “So, the perpetrator likely disposed of the remaining body parts elsewhere?” “Not just body parts—there’s still a lot of tissue missing. All we have so far is one leg bone,” my dad explained grimly. “This was a vicious, premeditated killing. The murderer is far more brutal than we imagined.” The officer paused before replying, “I’ll call for more reinforcements and expand the search area.” At that moment, one of the team members found a necklace hanging on a tree branch and handed it over. When I saw it, a spark of hope ignited within me. It was the necklace Dad had given me years ago for my birthday. Surely, he would remember! He had to! Dad examined it briefly before handing it to the officer. “This might have belonged to the victim,” he said. “Take photos and upload them online. Let’s see if we can find the next of kin to identify the body.” Paul glanced at the necklace and hesitated. Then he said, “Logan, doesn’t this look familiar? I think I’ve seen it on your younger daughter before…” Dad’s brow furrowed in irritation. “Identical necklaces are everywhere. Paul, you’re acting strange today. Did Melanie put you up to this nonsense?” “She’s always been manipulative. Don’t fall for her tricks.” Paul tried to say more, but Dad was called away. Watching his retreating back, I felt my hope sink. Dad wasn’t always like this. He used to love me. But ten years ago, his high school sweetheart passed away after years of domestic abuse, leaving behind a daughter—Heather. Dad took Heather in, despite my mom’s protests, and treated her like his own. My mom couldn’t accept it and demanded a divorce. After a heated argument, she climbed Blackwater Bridge with me in her arms, threatening to jump. The wind on the bridge was strong. I was terrified and begged her to put me down. In the end, she leapt into the icy Silver Creek River, leaving me alive but forever marked by that night. When the recovery team found her body, Dad slapped me twice without hesitation, calling me a murderer. From then on, he only had one daughter: Heather Blake. I was even forced to change my last name. I became Melanie, the unwanted. Dad hated me, and now that I was dead, he should finally be happy, right? 0

The search continued. Meanwhile, a teacher from Crestwood High School called Dad. “Melanie has been missing since last night. Her roommates said she was gone even before noon yesterday.” “Mr. Turner, can you contact her? If not, we may need to file a missing person report.” The teacher’s tone was urgent, but Dad only sounded annoyed. “Mrs. Quinn, Melanie is always lying.” “She’s skipped class before. Don’t worry. She’ll come back when she’s had enough fun.” “But…” Mrs. Quinn tried to argue, but Dad had already hung up. Heather was calling. “Dad, I don’t feel so well. When will you be done?” she asked softly. The frustration on Dad’s face melted away instantly. “It might take a little longer, honey. What’s wrong? Are you okay? Should I take some time off and come home to you?” His voice was gentle, his concern palpable. Listening to him, I felt a bitter pang. Since my mom’s death, Dad had never spoken to me with that kind of warmth. He always said I was a murderer—that I had destroyed our family. But Dad, I’m your real daughter. Couldn’t you care for me, even just a little? That night, he took time off and rushed home. Heather, lying in bed with round-the-clock care and a personal doctor on standby, was his sole focus. His eyes were filled with worry. “Heather, how are you feeling?” “Dad!” she exclaimed with joy, throwing her arms around him. As I watched their affectionate exchange, even as a spirit, I felt my nose sting with emotion. But no tears would come. I could only stand there, invisible, while Dad fussed over her. Eventually, Heather lifted her head from his embrace, her bright eyes shifting cunningly. She tested the waters. “Dad, didn’t you say the search would take several more days?” “Have they already found all the body parts?” Dad froze, startled. “How did you know the body was dismembered?” My dimmed hope flickered to life again. The necklace hadn’t done it, but this was an obvious clue. Surely, Dad would piece it together! But Heather shrugged it off with a casual, “I saw it on the news.” “Whoever she was, it’s so tragic. I can’t imagine how her family must feel.” Dad nodded, completely missing the flicker of satisfaction in Heather’s eyes. “Yes, it’s awful. But we haven’t identified her yet. Her family might not even know she’s gone.” That small spark of hope within me was extinguished once more. Dad, it’s me. Can’t you recognize me, even now? 0

Dad stayed home with Heather Blake all day. It wasn’t until late that night that his phone buzzed with a call from the team. Someone at Timberline Outpost had made a major discovery, and he was needed immediately. Dad quickly threw on his gear to leave, but Heather, clutching the doll he’d given her as a welcome-home gift, suddenly appeared. Her wide eyes filled with tears as she whispered, “Dad, it’s thundering outside. I’m scared…” For a moment, hesitation flashed in Dad’s eyes. Just as Heather’s plea seemed to anchor him, his phone vibrated again. Tom Larson had sent dozens of photos from the scene. One glance, and Dad’s pupils dilated in shock. He turned back to Heather and said gently, “Sweetheart, be good. Stay with your aunt, and Daddy will be back soon.” He dashed down the stairs and out the door, heading straight for the outpost. When he arrived, he pushed past the line of police tape. But Tom Larson stopped him at the entrance. “Logan, I don’t think you should go in there…” Dad brushed him aside, snapping, “I’ve been in search-and-rescue for years. I’ve seen everything.” “Move.” Yet the moment he stepped inside and caught sight of the well at the center of the scene, he staggered back and retched violently. The air was thick with decay. Pieces of flesh, dismembered and unrecognizable, had been fished out of the well. The soaked remains lay in bags on the ground. Nearby, sealed evidence bags held the tools of the crime: a hammer, an axe, a saw—and even a grindstone. The officer at the scene began explaining grimly, “These tools weren’t just used for dismemberment.” “They were used on the victim while she was still alive.” “We’ve found traces of blood and skin tissue on the stones—marks left by her struggle against the pain.” “This was torture.” “And based on preliminary findings, the victim was a tall woman. Her left leg shows an old fracture, likely from a dog attack. She might have had trouble walking.” With each word, Dad’s face grew darker. His lips pressed into a firm line. Was he grieving for me? Then, suddenly, Tom Larson spoke up, his voice hesitant. “Logan, I can’t shake the feeling… wasn’t your youngest daughter’s left leg also injured? And her build… it’s a match, isn’t it?” “Tom!” Dad roared, his expression hardening into anger. The fleeting softness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a deep fury. “What lies has that little monster been feeding you? You’ve been bringing her up a lot lately!” “I’ve already said, even if she’s dead out there, it has nothing to do with me.” “And anyway, a coward like her? She’d never die. She’s too selfish.” Tom opened his mouth to say more, but Dad had already stormed off. Nearby, another officer received a call. “Logan,” the officer called, stopping him. “Your younger daughter’s teacher just reported her missing.” Dad grabbed his phone and hurled it to the ground, his voice echoing through the space. “Enough! Enough already!” “The victim is in pieces, and you’re playing this ridiculous game with that brat!” “If she wants to go missing, let her! Finding the killer matters more.” The officer started to speak again, but Dad’s phone suddenly rang. Heather’s voice came through, trembling. “Daddy, the thunder’s so loud… I’m so scared.” The gentleness returned to Dad’s face instantly. “Sweetheart, Daddy will be home soon.” But before he could leave, the officer stopped him. “Logan! Come back!” Turning, Dad saw Mrs. Rachel Quinn, my teacher, standing in the rain, soaked to the bone. She had come personally and brought surveillance footage. The video showed a figure in a red winter parka—the exact one found on the victim.

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My father forced me to marry a disabled billionaire to spare his little princess from an unwanted marriage. I agreed immediately. Not long after, my stepsister changed her mind. She pointed at me and said, “Dad, I want my brother-in-law. Make her get lost!” Pfft. My husband laughed. I heard that night, their whole family packed up and fled in a hurry. My stepsister was crying her eyes out, refusing to marry Hugo Edwards. My dad, feeling sorry for this stepdaughter who shared no blood relation with him, immediately declared that he would never let her suffer. “Nancy, you’ll marry him instead of your sister.” He said this as casually as if he were commenting on the nice weather. Without a second thought, I replied, “Sure.” My stepsister immediately stopped crying. Even my stepmother looked at me in shock. Her shrewd eyes darted around, probably trying to guess if I had some hidden agenda. Indeed, I did have other plans. Natalie despised Hugo Edwards for being disabled. I didn’t. Because what I valued was his family background. Our Collins family was considered prestigious in Sea City. Well, to be precise, the Collins family basked in the glory of my maternal grandparents’ family. My mother’s family, the Shen family, had made their fortune during the Qing Dynasty. A century-old enterprise with vast wealth. Unfortunately, my mom was blind in love and chose my dad, a man who climbed the social ladder through marriage. No matter how much my maternal grandparents tried to stop them, they couldn’t sever their bond. Later, my mom gave birth to me and brought my dad back to her family, hanging her head in shame. My grandmother took pity on him and used her personal savings to support my dad in starting his business. He leveraged my maternal grandfather’s reputation and connections to make a considerable fortune. As his business grew, my mom saw less and less of him. Later, when my maternal grandparents passed away, my mom inherited their family fortune. That’s when my dad came back, sweet-talking his way into getting all the money from my mom. He transformed himself into Sea City’s top tycoon and wanted to divorce my mom. My mom couldn’t take it and jumped from a building, ending her life. I was ten years old that year. Before the seventh day of mourning for my mom had passed, my dad brought my stepmother and stepsister home. He claimed it was to take care of me, but in reality, the two of them were having an affair. They turned a blind eye when Natalie tried to steal my things. If I hadn’t been so young, I would have slapped him hard for my mom, even that wouldn’t have been enough to vent my anger! Heaven has eyes. Ever since my dad married this woman, his business took a nosedive. Just recently, he was on the brink of declaring bankruptcy. And now, out of nowhere, he dug up some old marriage agreement between the Shen family and the Edwards family. He wanted his stepdaughter to marry into wealth, but she refused. The atmosphere was tense. After a long while, my stepmother finally spoke: “Nancy, are you… serious?” “Of course. I can also choose not to marry. Why don’t we let Natalie marry him instead!” Natalie immediately grabbed my dad’s arm, crying like a fountain. “Daddy, I don’t want to marry Hugo Edwards!”

On our wedding night, as Hugo sat on the bed, I gently asked, “Do you need help getting up?” The soft orange light cast on his chiseled face made him look exceptionally handsome and refined. He glanced at me and said in a deep voice, “No need to trouble yourself.” With that, he easily stood up and strode towards the bathroom with his long legs. What? Wasn’t he supposed to be lame? I curiously peeked around the doorframe into the bathroom. The man was about to take off his shirt. Probably sensing my burning gaze, he spoke without turning around. “Seen enough?” My face flushed hot, and I quickly pulled back. “Sorry, please continue!” While he was showering, I searched again for all the gossip about Hugo Edwards. At a previous public event, Hugo Edwards had been seen in a wheelchair. Because he usually kept a low profile with little information leaked, rumors spread about his disability. But tonight’s Hugo Edwards could not only walk normally, he hadn’t tried to hide it from me. Suddenly, a wild thought popped into my head: Could he be an impostor pretending to be Hugo Edwards? Thinking this, I couldn’t help but sneak another peek through the bathroom door, squinting my eyes to see inside. In the steam-filled bathroom, I noticed a dark purple circular birthmark on the man’s waist. Hmm—it really was Hugo Edwards! Suddenly, the man turned around. Long, slender legs, a flawless V-line, and those eight-pack abs—who wouldn’t be mesmerized by that sight? “Get out!” As soon as he spoke, a large bath towel landed precisely on my head. “Sorry!” Now that I had confirmed his identity, I started to feel uneasy. Seeing him naked the first time we met wasn’t exactly appropriate, was it? We were married, not strangers, right? No, wait. We hadn’t even met before the wedding, so we were practically strangers! The sound of water stopped, and my heart skipped a beat. Whatever, I thought. If I die, I die. Worst case, I’ll let him see me too! Hugo came out wrapped in a towel, drying his hair as he walked. Droplets of water trickled down his exposed broad shoulders. He raised his dark eyes and asked with a frown, “Why are you still here?” I froze for a moment, “Where should I be?” “Mrs. Sun!” A minute later, Mrs. Sun led me to the room next door. “Ma’am, this will be your room from now on.” I think I finally understood where Hugo Edwards was “disabled”!

I don’t have trouble sleeping in new places. In fact, I felt more at ease here than at my family home. I fell asleep as soon as I hit the bed and slept until dawn when Mrs. Sun knocked on the door to call me down for breakfast. In the living room, a tall figure was leaning back in a chair, long legs crossed. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was reading a newspaper? It suddenly reminded me of my maternal grandfather who passed away over a decade ago. The old man loved to sit in his chair, basking in the sunlight while reading the newspaper. Tsk, how old-fashioned. The man suddenly turned his head, his dark eyes as deep as an ancient well. “What are you looking at?” I snickered, “You’re clearly a normal person, so why do you always use a wheelchair?” Hugo didn’t explain because he had already started to enjoy the breakfast Mrs. Sun brought over. “Ma’am, please eat.” Uh… I felt a bit uncomfortable and smiled, asking the kind Mrs. Sun, “Mrs. Sun, you don’t need to call me ma’am in the future. It’s too formal. Just call me Nancy!” “But…” Hugo frowned unconsciously, “Mrs. Sun, just do as she says.” Just then, a black luxury car silently pulled into the courtyard, and an elderly woman with white hair stepped out. This elderly lady was Hugo’s grandmother, whom everyone called the Old Madam. Hugo and I quickly got up to greet her at the door. “Grandma!” “Good, good, good. You were eating, weren’t you?” The Old Madam smiled, looking us up and down, then had someone open the thermal container she brought. A faint medicinal smell wafted from the steaming container. “Hugo, drink this quickly.” Hugo wrinkled his nose, his expression just like a child being forced to take medicine by their parents. I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. “Grandma, what is this now?” The old lady took my hand and patted it gently. “Nancy, dear, don’t mind this. This old woman doesn’t know how many days she has left. I’ve waited so long for Hugo to get married, and seeing you two so well-matched makes me happy.” I smiled sweetly, “Grandma, please don’t say such things. You’re in good health and will surely live to be a hundred. Hugo and I will take care of you together!” My words delighted the old lady so much she couldn’t stop smiling. “This child is so much better than that blockhead.” The “blockhead” Hugo showed no sign of anger at being called that. “Grandma, why are you telling her all this?” The Old Madam pretended to be angry, glaring at him lovingly. “You! Such a good girl like Nancy marrying you. If you dare to upset her, I’ll break your legs myself!” Hugo was also surprised that the Old Madam liked me so much. “Drink the medicine quickly, it’s good for your health.” Hugo had no choice but to pick up the bowl and down it in one go. I felt bitter just watching him, but he didn’t even frown, as if he was used to it. “Ah—that’s more like it. Get your body strong and healthy, so you can hurry up and have children!” Hugo, who was wiping his mouth, started coughing, his face suddenly turning unpleasant. “Grandma, you… you haven’t believed those online rumors, have you?” As a bystander who knew more than the general public, I knew Hugo wasn’t lame at all, he was actually… hmm!

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My sister has always been strange. She often tells me that her future self has called her on the phone. Everyone thinks she’s gone mad. Only I understand that she’s not lying. 0 In elementary school, my sister was the tallest in her class, so she often helped the teacher maintain discipline. One day, a new student transferred to their class. His name was “Stinky”. The teacher publicly instructed the class, saying that Stinky had been in a car accident and suffered brain damage that hadn’t fully healed. She encouraged everyone to take extra care of him. The students all chorused “Okay,” but undercurrents were already stirring beneath the surface. The teacher’s well-intentioned instructions had fully activated the “evil” in some people’s hearts. Now everyone knew that Stinky was a mentally challenged child. From then on, he was subjected to all sorts of “special care”. Some people secretly poured urine into his water bottle and tricked him into drinking it; Others dragged him into a group of girls and publicly pulled down his pants; Some spread Super Glue on paper and stuck it to his back, with “I’m a retard” written in red ink. Perhaps Stinky really was mentally challenged. In the face of these personal insults, he seemed as if nothing had happened and still came to school happily every day. My sister, being righteous, saw how terribly Stinky was being bullied and used her height advantage to stand up for him multiple times. Little did she know that after that, it was as if she had opened Pandora’s box. 0

Sewing needles were stuffed into the apple flesh of the apple my sister kept in her desk drawer; When she opened her backpack, a nest of live cockroaches crawled out from the lining; A bloody sanitary pad appeared in her lunchbox; From time to time, she received notes written in red ink, filled with obscenities. My sister completely broke down. When the teacher found out about the situation, she was furious and didn’t hesitate to suspend classes to investigate the truth. But the whole class remained silent, and the investigation reached a deadlock. Later, the class president came up with an idea to use anonymous voting to let everyone report the culprit. The voting results came out, and Stinky received almost all the votes. The teacher opened his pencil case on the spot and found a whole pack of sewing needles inside. There was a nest of cockroaches kept in a plastic box in his backpack, two unopened packages of sanitary pads, and several pornographic magazines. After Stinky was caught, the classmates began to discuss his other dirty behaviors. Someone revealed that during morning exercises, Stinky would secretly run back to the classroom and lick my sister’s cup. Someone else said that after school, Stinky would secretly suck on my sister’s chair. Even worse, she saw Stinky staring at my sister and drooling during nap time, while touching himself down there. After hearing this news, my sister ran to the bathroom and couldn’t stop retching. For a whole month after that, my sister stayed at home and wouldn’t go anywhere, especially refusing to go to school. The homeroom teacher brought several class officers to visit my sister and told her that the school had seriously dealt with Stinky. Stinky’s parents had already transferred him to another school, and similar incidents would never happen again. After much comfort and assurance from various parties, my sister decided to return to class. Stinky was indeed gone, and life seemed to return to normal. But the psychological trauma left on my sister never healed. She often described to us what happened in her dreams. My sister always dreamed that in a pitch-black tunnel, there was a pair of men’s eyes staring at her intently. She ran forward with all her might, never reaching the end, and never escaping those eyes. Because of this dream, my sister never dared to wear attractive clothes, never dared to go out after dark, and even feared boys. But life is full of unexpected turns, and an incident during her sophomore year of high school changed her life forever. 0

That day, a typhoon suddenly hit, with dark clouds rolling and thunder booming. At five o’clock, it was as dark as midnight. As usual, dad drove to pick up my sister. But halfway there, he encountered flooding, and the car stalled. My sister waited at the school gate for a long time, and a hurried passerby knocked her phone into a puddle. The phone fell into the water and immediately went black. As it got later and later, fewer and fewer people were around. After much consideration, my sister opened her umbrella and decided to walk home by herself. The branches along the road rustled loudly, and there were fewer and fewer people on the street. My sister kept her eyes and ears open, trying to avoid any danger. Usually, my sister would take a narrow shortcut, but this time she didn’t. She chose to take the long way on the main road, wanting to avoid all possible dangers. But even so, what was meant to happen couldn’t be avoided. A man appeared behind my sister. He was about thirty meters behind her, seemingly deliberately maintaining this distance. In the reflection of a store window, my sister saw that he was wearing an all-black hooded windbreaker. He was also wearing a mask, so his face couldn’t be seen. When my sister walked forward, he also walked forward; When my sister stopped to pretend to tie her shoelaces, he also stopped and didn’t move. By then, there was no one else on the street. My sister was scared out of her wits, her limbs trembling. Around that time, there had been a series of rape and murder cases near my sister’s school, all occurring during stormy weather, with the perpetrator still at large. My sister tried to suppress her fear and keep walking, but suddenly the man sped up, and the distance between them grew shorter and shorter. Driven by a strong survival instinct, my sister mustered all her strength and ran towards a fruit store at the corner. Closing her eyes, my sister crashed through the door with her shoulder. The store owner, an old man with silver hair, was almost scared into a heart attack. My sister fell to her knees, gasping for breath. In a hoarse voice, she shouted to the old man: “Someone is following me.” The silver-haired old man’s expression immediately became serious. He got up to look outside and indeed saw a man in black, like a ghost. The old man shouted angrily at the man in black: “If you don’t leave now, I’m calling the police!” The man hesitated for a moment, then turned and left. The store owner poured my sister a cup of hot water and called to contact her family. Perhaps because of the typhoon, all communication in the area was down, and the call couldn’t go through. Seeing that my sister had calmed down somewhat, the old man offered to take her home. Who could have guessed that they would encounter an accident on the way. At another intersection, the old man suggested taking a shortcut. Before my sister could consider it, a dark figure rushed out from the side, knocking them both to the ground. My sister opened her eyes through the pain, but the dark figure had already run far away. As she turned her gaze, my sister’s body and mind instantly froze. The old man was lying on the ground, both hands clutching his throat, blood spurting between his fingers. A bolt of lightning split the sky, turning everything as bright as day. The old man’s mouth was wide open, his eyes staring fixedly at my sister, but his pupils had already dilated. My sister said she would never forget that scene. 0

After that day, my sister was admitted to the psychiatric ward. She couldn’t take the SAT, and the killer was never found. Even after my sister was discharged from the hospital, this knot in her heart remained untied. Our family wanted my sister to try going back to school, but after just two weeks, she chose to drop out. She cried and begged our parents not to make her go to school. As soon as she entered the school, she was reminded of Stinky from before, and that terrifying typhoon night. Our parents had no choice but to let my sister rest at home. But my sister’s psychological issues didn’t improve. Whenever it was windy and rainy, she would curl up in a corner wrapped in a blanket, saying strange things. Everyone thought she was talking nonsense, but only I was willing to listen to her carefully. My sister told me that she had waited for 5 years, just to make everything happen again. My sister said that in three days, there would be a typhoon and heavy rain. This typhoon would be as big as the one 5 years ago. I didn’t really believe it at first, but who would have thought that three days later, a typhoon really did hit, with dark clouds rolling and thunder booming outside. I looked at her in disbelief, asking how she knew. She told me that on this day 5 years ago, she had received a phone call. At that time, she was standing at the school gate, waiting for dad to pick her up by car. The surroundings were noisy, with the sound of the fierce wind unceasing. The phone signal was also terribly poor. A woman’s voice came through the receiver, telling my sister: “You’re going to be in danger, find someone to help you right now!” The next second, my sister’s phone was knocked into a puddle by a passerby and immediately went black. She thought it was just a prank call and didn’t take it seriously, still waiting for dad to pick her up. It got later and later, and there were fewer and fewer people. After much consideration, my sister opened her umbrella and decided to walk home by herself. Then she was followed by the man in black, then hid in the fruit store, met the old man… and then, everything that happened afterward. So… I listened quietly to her description, then asked her: “Who was the woman who called you?” “Myself,” my sister replied calmly. 0

“I can’t forget that number, it’s exactly the same as our home landline number.” I looked at the old landline phone on the wooden cabinet, several of its buttons already broken. Mom and dad had wanted to throw it away long ago, but only my sister insisted on keeping it. “If anyone dares to touch this phone again, I’ll kill myself right away!” My sister had become hysterical many times over this old phone, and our parents could only give in. I never understood why she was like this, but now I know. Maybe she had been waiting for this day all along. “If I’m not mistaken, after I make this call, I can change everything.” My sister’s hands trembled as she picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Hello, the situation is urgent now, you must do as I say!” My sister’s tone was unprecedentedly serious. “A passerby is about to rush over, hold onto your phone tightly!” “Don’t ask! Just do it!” I watched my sister’s actions from the side, not daring to breathe. My sister still looked solemn. “Good, now hold onto your phone, don’t hang up.” “What I’m about to say next is crucial, you must…” Before she could finish, my sister stopped and cursed: “Idiot!” I asked her what happened. My sister told me that her past self didn’t believe her and hung up the phone. My sister, who was angry just now, suddenly closed her eyes, as if lost in memories. The next moment, my sister suddenly looked up at me, excitedly grabbing my shoulders. I was startled by my sister’s behavior. “It changed, it really changed!” my sister said excitedly. “What happened?” “Because the phone wasn’t knocked into the puddle by the passerby 5 years ago, I called dad.” “He said the car had stalled and he couldn’t pick me up, so I didn’t wait any longer and went home with a classmate instead.” My sister rarely showed a relaxed smile. “Is that so! Then everything afterward changed too, right?” After hearing my question, my sister closed her eyes again, lost in memories. When she opened her eyes again, the smile on her face had completely disappeared. 0

“I met my best friend Nora at the school gate, she was just about to go home alone.” “Nora and I live in the same direction, she didn’t bring an umbrella, so we shared one umbrella and went home together.” “Because we didn’t have the warning from that initial phone call, we weren’t alert to our surroundings, we only remember passing by that fruit store, the old man was reading a newspaper.” “Did that old man survive later?” I asked, though I couldn’t quite understand, I still followed my sister’s train of thought. “He survived,” my sister said. I breathed a sigh of relief. But at this moment, my sister started crying. I instantly felt that things weren’t as simple as I had imagined. “Not long after passing the fruit store, Nora took another road.” “That day, the killer’s next target was Nora.” My sister’s tears kept falling. “What happened to the killer?” “They didn’t find him, it became a cold case.” Suddenly, my sister’s body shook, her eyes staring at some unknown place: “The killer was Stinky.” That elementary school classmate, the man who had plunged my sister into nightmares. After Stinky transferred schools that year, he disappeared without a trace. But the scary incidents didn’t stop. The lockers in my sister’s school changing room were often broken into, and then urine was poured inside; On the classroom windows, skull heads were drawn with red paint, it was terrifying. Everyone thought it was Stinky, only he would be psychotic enough to do these things. Every day when they entered the school, everyone was on edge. There were even rumors that Stinky had been killed and turned into a vengeful ghost to get revenge on everyone. Those who had bullied him before now had chills running down their spines. Although my sister hadn’t bullied Stinky, she was still a girl and was particularly afraid of “ghost stories”. So dad would personally pick her up and drop her off every day. After entering junior high, everyone thought they had escaped from Stinky. But after just one month of peace, something happened. According to the boarding students at the time, a lot of girls’ underwear was stolen in large quantities; There were also girls who were always followed by someone when walking on the road at night… The discipline teacher led a group of teachers to investigate collectively, but they could never find the result. Later, strange rumors appeared again: “Stinky actually didn’t die. He just completely became mentally ill, specifically following young girls, stealing their underwear, and then stalking and molesting them.” Rumors are just rumors, even if everyone was a bit scared, they still didn’t really believe it rationally. Who could have guessed that Stinky really appeared later. 0

At a corner of an alley near the school, Stinky beat someone until their head was bleeding profusely. The boy who was beaten was someone who had bullied Stinky in elementary school. The subsequent perverted rumors about Stinky were all spread by him. By the time the parents found the beaten boy, Stinky had long disappeared. The beaten boy perhaps knew he was in the wrong, and in the end didn’t report it to the police. But Stinky’s reappearance undoubtedly became a nightmare for the girls nearby. Especially for my sister. Because that day, at the corner of the alley, my sister had encountered him. At that time, his hands were covered in blood, his eyes were also blood-red, his whole body filled with killing intent. When their gazes met, both of them were stunned for a moment. Then Stinky suddenly rushed over and forcefully kissed my sister’s forehead. My sister remembered that he kissed very hard, and she smelled a strong stench of blood. Stinky didn’t really harm my sister, after kissing her he ran away without saying a word. My sister was scared half to death on the spot, stood there dazed for a long time before she reacted, then she collapsed to the ground and cried loudly. At the front of the alley corner, that boy beaten by Stinky was lying motionless on the ground, almost like he was dead. My sister told me that she would never forget those scenes. That night, my sister had nightmares repeatedly. The content of the dreams always involved a dark tunnel, being stared at fixedly by a man in black, no matter how she ran she couldn’t shake him off. My sister endured through these nightmares until her second year of junior high, and in that year, the infamous rape and murder cases happened here. A 13-year-old junior high school girl was brutally raped and murdered on her way home from school. As soon as the incident was reported, everyone thought it was Stinky who did it. That period was also the most torturous time for my sister. No matter where she went, wherever she was, she always felt a pair of eyes staring at her. My sister described to me that the feeling those eyes gave her was none other than Stinky. Wherever my sister went, there was Stinky! Fortunately, a month later, the case was solved, the culprit was an unemployed vagrant who committed the crime on impulse after seeing the girl. But my sister’s pain didn’t disappear. From then on, Stinky had become an inescapable nightmare for my sister. 0

In the room, my sister looked up at the wall clock: “There’s still time!” Then she dialed another phone call. “Hello! Listen, I’m you from five years in the future. Your best friend Nora will die in 30 minutes, only you can save her!” My sister seemed to be listening to the other side speak, paused for a moment and then continued: “In a few more steps, you need to be alert to the man in black behind you.” “That person is Stinky, your elementary school classmate.” “He’s going to commit a crime against you, you must run!” After saying this, a bolt of lightning flashed outside, and the room was as bright as day. My sister put down the phone dejectedly. I asked my sister what happened. She said the signal on the other side was cut off. Then, my sister closed her eyes again, her brows furrowed, obviously in extreme pain. I hurriedly asked, “What changes happened this time?” My sister answered me: “That day, not long after Nora and I left the school gate, a man in black indeed appeared behind us. When we passed by that fruit store, we specifically asked the old man for help. The old man was very kind and personally escorted us home.” “On the way, he also chatted with us, saying that his granddaughter was studying in another city, about the same age as us, with excellent grades, always in the top three of her grade.” “He also talked about how when he was young, conditions were poor and he had no chance to go to school, entering society early and always staying at the bottom. Now having such a good granddaughter was truly a blessing from heaven.” “When the old man said these things, his face was full of kindness.” “But in the blink of an eye, we had walked to the corner of the alley, and a dark figure suddenly jumped out from somewhere, thin in build but particularly tall.” “Under the dim streetlight, he pulled out a knife and slashed it across the old man’s throat.” “The movement was clean and swift, blood spraying two meters away.” “Nora was so scared she lost her soul, and I instinctively called out his name.” “Stinky!” “The man in black was startled and turned his head.” “Just then, a bolt of lightning struck, and I saw his face clearly.” “Cold and weathered, full of killing intent.” “It was Stinky!” “Even though we hadn’t seen each other for many years, I was still certain it was him.” “Then he forcefully kissed my forehead, so hard it seemed he wanted to suck out my brain marrow.” “I was so scared by this kiss that I forgot to resist, but Nora was the first to come to her senses, picking up her thermos and heavily smashing it against Stinky’s head.” “Perhaps Stinky was disoriented by the blow, or maybe he was afraid the commotion would attract passersby. Stinky didn’t harm us further and ran away.” “But after that day, Nora was deeply traumatized and unable to continue studying. Later she developed schizophrenia and was sent to a mental hospital by her family.” 0

At this moment, my sister’s expression was full of sadness and loss. That wasn’t the kind of world-weariness a young woman should have. I fell silent because I didn’t know what to say. Outside, the typhoon was still howling, and it had started pouring rain. The occasional flashes of lightning made the atmosphere in the room even more eerie. “Sis… are you going to call again?” I asked. My sister bit her lip, hesitating. So far, it seemed that each call was making things worse. I didn’t know if she dared to make another call. After a while, my sister said she wanted a Coke. I quickly got up and fetched a can of cold Coke from the fridge. “Hello, listen carefully, no matter what, you can’t hang up this call!” my sister said into the phone. I stood nearby holding the Coke, not daring to make a sound. “In five minutes, when you pass by the fruit store, you’ll see the store owner reading a newspaper.” “You need to run over quickly and tell him that there’s a killer outside, he must close the door and hide in the store immediately, don’t go out!” “Then you and Nora turn back and run to the nearest police station to report the case.” “Tell the police that Stinky is the serial rapist and murderer.” “Remember! Take the main road and run to the police station as fast as you can!” My sister kept the phone to her ear, her face full of anxiety. I slowly sat down, still not daring to interrupt. Suddenly my sister’s brows furrowed even tighter, she shouted into the phone: “Put the old man on, I’ll tell him!” I guessed that the fruit store owner didn’t believe this phone call. “Grandpa, listen to me first. You have a granddaughter with excellent grades, always in the top three of her grade.” “When you were young, conditions were poor and you had no chance to study. You feel you’ve never made anything of yourself. Your granddaughter is heaven’s blessing to you.” “Please believe me, I really am from five years in the future.” “The serial killer is nearby, everyone present will be in danger!” “Please close the door and hide in the fruit store, don’t come out. Nora and I will go to the police station to report the case immediately.” “But… this way you’ll be in danger too!” I saw my sister’s expression become troubled. After a moment of silence, my sister seemed to have made a decision. “If that’s the case, thank you then.” I asked my sister if the old man did as she said. My sister told me that the old man obviously believed her, and even actively offered to protect them all the way to the police station. The wind and rain were fierce along the way, making it very difficult to walk. The three of them walked very slowly. My sister kept reminding them to take the main road and be careful of what’s behind them. But the old man seemed fearless. He didn’t seem afraid of the so-called serial killer at all. Compared to the immediate danger, he was more interested in the world five years later. He asked several times about how advanced technology would be in five years, whether the serial killer would be caught, and whether more sophisticated forensic methods would emerge. Although my sister found it strange, she answered as best she could. Finally, the three of them came to the corner of the alley again, that nightmare corner.

The old man suggested taking a shortcut because the weather was too bad, and the sooner they got to the police station, the sooner they’d be safe. The shortcut was to turn into a deep, dark alley where all the streetlights were broken, pitch black. As they hesitated, the phone cut off. I saw my sister freeze there again, not coming back to her senses for a long time. “Sis? Sis? Did something happen again?” I asked, both worried and scared. The wind outside was still howling, but it had lessened somewhat, and the rain was gradually stopping. Perhaps the typhoon was about to pass. My sister woke up as if from a big dream and started dialing the phone frantically. She tried four or five times in a row, but couldn’t get through. My sister’s eyes were full of despair. “It’s over, everything’s over.” “What exactly happened?” I was concerned about my sister’s state, and also curious about what happened next. My sister’s voice was weak, but her logic was very clear. At that time, the phone was actively hung up by the old man, who turned it off before giving it back to my sister, saying it wasn’t safe to use phones during a thunderstorm. Then, the three of them took the shortcut, turning into that pitch-black alley. The small road was full of potholes, and my sister’s shoes and socks were already soaked through. The three of them continued deeper, as if walking into the throat of a giant beast. At this point, the old man’s pace became slower and slower. My sister had a bad feeling, always feeling that something was about to happen. She instinctively turned on her phone, ready to call for help at any time, while the old man had completely stopped walking. Another bolt of lightning struck, and the old man’s usual kindness was gone, replaced by a sinister expression. “Give me the phone.” The old man’s voice was eerie and terrifying, as if coming from hell. My sister was about to run away, but the old man snatched the phone first, then smashed it hard on the ground, shattering it to pieces. It turned out that when the old man turned off the phone earlier, he intentionally cut off the connection with the future. This way, what was supposed to happen in the past wouldn’t change. And naturally, no one could stop the crime he was about to commit. The old man’s sudden change of face caught my sister and Nora off guard. He pulled out red ropes from his pocket and tightly bound my sister’s hands and feet. Later, after repeatedly recalling, my sister realized that those ropes weren’t originally red, they were covered in dried blood. It was the blood of the girls who had been raped and murdered before!

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At the company’s celebration banquet, bonuses were being distributed. My wife and father-in-law publicly called me useless, saying I was a failure who only dragged everyone down. Violet They even forcibly gave my nearly completed Dubai royal family project to her first love. I didn’t get angry, but laughed instead, directly handing over my CEO position to him as well. “Staring at these damn drones all day is exhausting. I’ll just let you be CEO!” Everyone in the company thought I had gone mad with anger. But what they didn’t know was that the core algorithm for drone swarm control was in my hands. Without me, their golden goose drone fleet would turn into a swarm of man-eating locusts. The company would face a billion-dollar liability from the Dubai royal family, going bankrupt overnight! “Adam, your contributions to Thompson Robotics have been invaluable. This year’s bonus is all yours,” Violet said sweetly, handing Quentin a $5 million check. The applause was deafening. Mr. Thompson nodded approvingly while my colleagues crowded around them, cheering. “With Quentin overseeing operations, our company will soon be a global leader!” “Mrs. Thompson and the board really have an eye for talent. She and Quentin make such a great team, even better than most married couples!” I stood at the edge of the crowd, watching this joyous scene with a crumpled technical proposal in my hand. Today was supposed to be the company’s annual bonus distribution party. But just as I arrived at the conference hall, Violet received a phone call. She said there was a malfunction in the drone system that required my immediate attention at the test flight base. After years of marriage, I naturally trusted her without question. Before I could even grab a bite to eat, I rushed to the base. Under the scorching heat of nearly 104°F, I led the team in troubleshooting for an entire day. But when I saw Violet give all the bonuses to Quentin, an intern who had been here for less than a month, everything became clear. The system malfunction was just an excuse to get me out of the way. She just wanted to hand over the fruits of my three years of hard work to her unforgotten first love. Quentin seemed to notice me casually, feigning surprise: “Oh, Mr. Brown, you’re finally here?” “We thought you had other business and couldn’t make it, so we started early. You don’t mind, do you?” His words were polite, but his eyes were full of mockery. He even deliberately waved the check in front of me. Violet glanced at me impatiently: “Adam, what’s with that expression? Did you expect the board and everyone else to wait just for you?” “No wonder you dragged your feet on bidding for that project before. You’re useless, always holding everyone back.” “Since you’re here, you might as well hand over the Dubai project directly to Quentin. Save us from any more of your slip-ups.” Hearing her high-handed commands, I clenched my fists, feeling utterly disappointed. The Dubai project she mentioned was a big contract I had spent three years preparing and bidding for, practically my life’s work. The Dubai prince had been generous, giving a $5 million deposit upfront. But to ensure the stability of ten thousand drones operating simultaneously in the desert environment, I had pulled countless all-nighters. I had traveled back and forth to Dubai countless times, jet-lagged and suffering from stomach bleeds several times. Just as the project was in its final stages, Violet casually decided to take away my achievements and hand them to her first love with a few careless words. I couldn’t help but laugh at my own dedication. Ten years ago, Thompson Robotics was on the brink of bankruptcy, unable even to pay workers’ wages. When Violet took over, she was determined to transform the company, saying she wanted to get into drones. I didn’t hesitate to quit my job at a big tech firm, investing all my savings to start from scratch with her. But with her background in fashion design, she couldn’t even understand basic control codes, let alone develop drones. Over the years, I had been the sole support for the company’s core technology. Every algorithm patent was my invention. All technical problems had to be solved by me personally. During the early stages when funds were tight, Mr. Thompson refused to help because he looked down on me. It was my parents who sold our old family house and their hard-earned savings for my wedding to keep the company afloat. Only after that did my marriage to Violet get put on the agenda. My father-in-law, Mr. Thompson, had always looked down on my background. He thought letting me marry into their family was already a great favor. Every time we met, he would make snide remarks about how I relied on his daughter, and that a son-in-law should know his place. At the time, I didn’t care because I loved Violet too much. I loved her enough to sacrifice everything for her. But I never imagined that after Quentin accompanied Violet on just a few overseas business trips, he could effortlessly take credit for all my hard work. I had been married to Violet for ten years. In the end, I still couldn’t compare to her first love who had once abandoned her. Today, she had finally worn away the last shred of affection between us. After a long silence, I spoke calmly: “Fine, do as you please.” Quentin couldn’t hide his smug smile, still pretending to be modest: “Mr. Brown, I’m just an amateur in this field. How could I dare to take over such an international billion-dollar project from you?” “I heard you’ve been working on it for almost three years without success. I just wanted to lend a hand.” Violet gently put her hand on his shoulder: “Quentin, you’re an Ivy League graduate. If you can’t handle it, no one in the company can!” Mr. Thompson chimed in authoritatively: “Exactly. Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re far better than that good-for-nothing son-in-law.” I almost laughed out loud. Quentin’s degree was just an empty shell. During his interview, he couldn’t even grasp basic control theory. The Thompsons were just obsessed with propping him up, paying him an exorbitant salary. After comforting Quentin, Violet turned to mock me: “Adam, if it weren’t for me, could you have reached your current position?” “You’ve had it too good for too long. You don’t even know your own limitations anymore, do you?” “I ask you to hand over a project and you’re being petty about it. If it weren’t for Quentin putting in a good word for you, Dad and I would have fired you long ago!” I laughed coldly to myself. Violet seemed to have completely forgotten that when the company couldn’t even handle basic drone models, I was the one solving every technical problem. Not only did I contribute patents, but I also trained the technical team from scratch. Now that the Thompsons had made it big, they not only turned their backs on me but also saw me as a burden. They kept rambling on, as if I had become the Thompson family’s greatest shame. I took a deep breath and walked towards Quentin under Violet’s contemptuous gaze. Everyone’s eyes darted between us, thinking this spineless son-in-law was finally going to explode. But I just smiled calmly. I took out a CEO transfer document from my bag and threw it at Quentin’s feet. “Staring at a few thousand drones all day is exhausting. I’ll just let you be CEO!” For a moment, everyone in the hall stared at me with wide eyes, unable to believe what they had just heard. The executives of Thompson Robotics whispered among themselves, all thinking I must have gone mad from the pressure. After all, everyone in the company knew that it was my ten years of selfless dedication that had brought us to where we were today. “Mr. Brown, you’re the second-in-command of our company. It’s just one project, don’t ruin your career over a moment of anger!” Hearing this, Violet seemed to think I was trying to blackmail her. She immediately flew into a rage: “Adam, have you lost your mind?” “I criticize you a little and you dare to throw a tantrum? You’ve really crossed the line!” “Let me remind you, you’re just a figurehead CEO. I’m the real controller of this company!” I laughed inwardly. She should be happy that I was handing over the CEO position. Isn’t letting her precious first love rise to the top exactly what Violet had always dreamed of? Quentin clutched the CEO transfer document tightly, his eyes flashing with greed. But he put on an act of selflessness: “Mr. Brown, are you just saying this because you’re angry about giving up the CEO position?” “Please don’t misunderstand. Violet just wanted me to give you a hand to speed things up. It’s all for the good of Thompson Robotics.” “Besides, how could I dare to replace you? You’re a company veteran. The CEO position belongs to no one but you.” “Everyone knows how much you’ve devoted to the company over the years. The CEO role is rightfully yours.” As he spoke, Quentin made a show of trying to return the document to me. But his hand pressed firmly on the paper, as if afraid I might really take it back. Seeing his act, I smiled faintly: “What’s there to be angry about?” “You’re the Ivy League graduate. With fresh blood in the company, I couldn’t be happier.” “You as CEO? I couldn’t be more relieved.” Violet looked at me suspiciously, then snorted coldly: “Quentin, since he’s voluntarily stepping down, just accept it.” “With your abilities, the CEO position would be yours sooner or later anyway. There’s nothing unsuitable about it.” “Everyone’s here to witness it.” As soon as she finished speaking, Quentin stopped pretending to refuse. He hugged the transfer document tightly, his eyes almost overflowing with greed. Seeing his behavior, I laughed coldly to myself. Violet was always making eyes at Quentin, completely unaware of how technically challenging the Dubai project really was. I had researched for a whole year before finally breaking through the swarm control algorithm for the desert environment. But they didn’t know that this core program was still in my encrypted hard drive, not yet handed over. Even if they tried to steal it, without even the basic annotations, it would take them half a year just to crack it. Without me, how could they complete the aerial performance with tens of thousands of drones? Their golden goose drone fleet would turn into a swarm of man-eating locusts! Moreover, Quentin probably didn’t know that the CEO position wasn’t so easy to sit in. Controlling core technology also meant bearing all responsibilities. For this Dubai project, we had already received a $5 million deposit. If the performance failed, not only would we have to refund in full, but we’d also face the wrath of the royal family. Not to mention how fierce the competition is in this industry. One misstep and the company would be completely crushed by rivals. Since they already saw me as useless, I naturally had no obligation to kindly remind them. When the project fails, it will be the day the Thompson family falls into ruin. Seeing how readily I gave up my position, Violet seemed to feel a bit guilty. She coughed awkwardly, then said arrogantly: “Alright, Adam, you don’t need to stand here anymore.” “Since the program needs to be handed over anyway, and we’re having a celebration for Quentin tonight, seeing as you’re being so sensible, why don’t you come along?” Her condescending tone almost made me laugh out loud. If the Dubai project succeeded, the profit share would be at least tens of millions of dollars. Yet they excluded me from the bonus distribution, and now they want to appease me with just a dinner. What a brilliant calculation! The thought of having to dine at the same table as a scoundrel like Quentin made me nauseous. I was about to refuse when Quentin chimed in with false modesty: “Oh dear, when I booked the private room earlier, Mr. Brown wasn’t around. I completely forgot to save a seat for you.” “It’s all my fault for not considering thoroughly. Although I twisted my ankle earlier today, I should still take responsibility.” “You sit first, Mr. Brown. I’ll go outside to grab a chair and some drinks in a bit.” I knew he was deliberately playing weak, trying to score points with the Thompsons. Sure enough, as soon as Violet heard he was injured, she immediately stopped him with concern, helping him to a chair. “Quentin, you’ve done more than enough for the company.” “Such a big project is relying on you. How can we let you run errands like this?” As she spoke, she glared at me with disgust: “What are you standing there for? No sense of propriety at all. What a waste of all these years in the company.” “Either go buy drinks or don’t come at all!” Seeing her blatant double standards, I couldn’t help but laugh coldly. Violet had always taken me for granted. In the past, I would work overtime day and night at the company, but was never included in team dinners. As if I was begging for a meal. Quentin pushed his luck further, smiling and saying: “Mr. Brown, I’m really sorry to trouble you like this.” “I’ll definitely toast to you later…” Before he could finish, I laughed coldly and kicked over the leather executive chair he was sitting on. In the next instant, Quentin hurriedly tried to dodge, but tripped over the chair. He hit his head on the million-dollar holographic projection equipment, the sound of shattering glass piercing the air. I watched as he struggled to get up, not even bothering to wipe the blood from his forehead, and couldn’t help but sneer: “What’s this? Has the Ivy League graduate’s ankle injury miraculously healed?” “Not bad reflexes. Were you a tap dancer in a past life?” Violet stood frozen, as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over her head. She quickly rushed to support Quentin, then turned to yell at me: “Adam, have you gone fucking insane?” “What if Quentin’s head is injured? What about the Dubai project?” “I finally understand what’s going on with you today.” “You’re just jealous that Quentin is more capable than you, deliberately trying to sabotage this project, aren’t you?” I scoffed, my face full of disdain: “Me? Jealous of an idiot?” “And…” “I’ve already resigned. Don’t put on airs in front of me anymore. This young master won’t play along!” Violet trembled with anger, her eyes reddening as she was about to say something more. I turned and strode out of the conference room without looking back. Leaving the noise and Mr. Thompson’s angry shouts fading behind me. I packed up my things in the office, my gaze falling on a velvet gift box on the desk, lost in thought for a moment. It was a custom-made bracelet I had ordered from abroad in advance. Originally intended as an anniversary gift for Violet. Now it just seemed ridiculous. Looking at the bracelet, I couldn’t help but recall the past. In college, I had always seen Violet as a goddess. I knew that with my humble background, I wasn’t worthy of her, the rich heiress. I could only silently protect her, running errands, buying her meals, and helping with her homework. She naturally took me for granted as her backup plan. That day when I found her discarded silver bracelet and wanted to return it. She threw it into a gutter and directly promoted me from backup to boyfriend. My classmates all said it was because her first love had dumped her, and she was just taking revenge. But I refused to believe it, treating her even better, believing that one day she would be moved by my sincerity. I was like a loyal puppy, revolving around her 24/7. Finding new ways to give her gifts, unchanged even after ten years of marriage. Our wedding anniversary was always marked in my planner. Even though Violet never remembered or celebrated it. I knew she had always been lukewarm towards me. But I always believed that she loved me. Perhaps that was just her way of expressing love. So I willingly accepted being a figurehead CEO at the company and a son-in-law in the Thompson family. I thought our life would always be this blissfully happy. But I underestimated the weight of first love in her heart. It wasn’t until I saw her attitude towards Quentin and her undisguised affection that I realized. Perhaps from the very beginning, Quentin had always lived in Violet’s heart. I was just a dispensable substitute. Just as I was about to throw away the gift, Violet and the others happened to return. “Well, well, Adam. Weren’t you quite capable just now?” “Can’t a grown man be less petty? Using such underhanded methods against me?” At the door, Violet was arm in arm with Quentin, with several executives following behind. Huh, these two cheaters were really brazen. Quentin gently tugged at Violet’s sleeve, pretending to be considerate: “Violet, Mr. Brown must want to apologize to you.” “Look at the bracelet in his hand. He probably prepared it specially to beg for your forgiveness!” Violet was stunned for a moment, then sneered: “Huh, you think buying a cheap bracelet can win me over?” “If it weren’t for Quentin stopping me, I would have called security long ago…” As she spoke, she reached out to take the bracelet from my hand. I frowned and quickly threw the bracelet into the trash can. “You’re sick. Even wanting garbage.” “You should get treatment for your habit of wishful thinking.”

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Everyone said my father, Henley Davidson, was a good man. The neighbor’s son couldn’t find a job after graduation. Without a second thought, my father gave him my mother’s job, and when my mother wanted to get it back, he scolded her. “What’s wrong with helping out neighbors? How could you go and ask for it back? You’re just making me look bad! Later, my father lost his job because of a mistake at work. And then, he started giving away our savings to keep his image as a “good man”. When my sister, Lynne Davidson, was sick, we didn’t have the money to treat her illness, and my mother had to watch her daughter die in her arms helplessly. After graduating from college, I worked hard and finally saved enough money to buy a house. However, my father asked me to give it to his brother, Terry Davidson’s son, Percy Davidson, who was getting married. I refused, and my father pointed his finger at me, yelling, “We’re family! What’s wrong with helping each other out? All those years of studying, and you haven’t learned anything useful, have you?” Looking at his self-righteous expression, I couldn’t help but laugh. He probably didn’t know that everyone called him a fool or a sucker behind his back.

“Rosina, you should listen to me. You should give the house to Percy. He’s getting married and needs it urgently. We’re relatives. Don’t make a fuss over it.” My father sat on the sofa, one hand holding a cigarette, the other gesturing at me. Seeing I didn’t look willing to give them the house, Terry, who was sitting next to me, poured me a cup of coffee and smiled as he set it in front of me. “Henley has a point. As a family, we should support each other. Percy’s girlfriend insists that he buy a house before they marry. Considering you don’t require the house at present, perhaps you could give it to him. It makes sense to lend it to let him use it for now.” I glanced at the coffee on the table but didn’t say a word. Anger was boiling inside me. In my mind, I thought, “Here we go again. Dad does it again, playing the role of the good guy.” Last month, after receiving my paycheck, I’d finally saved up enough to buy the house I’d been eyeing for a long time. It was a house near a good school district. The first thing I did after buying the house was call my mom, wanting to share this good news with her. But after hearing my words, my mom warned me, “You should hide it from your father. Don’t let him know you bought the house. You know how he is. If he finds out, he’ll want to give it away to someone else.” We all knew that my dad would do everything within or without his power to help others. A long time ago, when our neighbor’s son couldn’t find a job after graduating, my father didn’t hesitate to give away my mother’s job. At that time, my mother had just given birth to my sister Lynne and was resting at home. Without saying a word, my father handed over her job. When my mother found out, she went crazy, demanding that he get it back. But my father was reluctant, mumbling, “We’re neighbors. What’s wrong with helping each other out? It’s already done. How can I ask for it back? What kind of man would I be? And besides, I have a job. You can stay home and take care of the kids.” My mother glanced at my baby sister, crying in her arms, then at me, bent over at the table doing my homework, and said nothing. However, after that, my father didn’t take his work seriously anymore. He started showing up late, leaving early and kept making mistakes in his work. Eventually, the company lost a major contract because of him. His boss had had enough and fired him. That year, my sister fell ill and needed to be hospitalized. My mother, holding the bank card, stared at it in disbelief. She was told that there wasn’t a penny left. It turned out that my father had loaned it all out to “help” others. He had given away all our savings. My mother had to go door to door, begging them to return the money. However, by the time she got the money back, it was too late. She had to watch helplessly as my sister died in her arms. When we got home, my father raged at my mother, blaming her for asking others for money. He said she had embarrassed him. After I bought the house, I took my mother’s advice and didn’t even post about it on Twitter, so when my father called my company and asked me to go home, I had no idea how my father found out about it. It seemed like Terry was afraid I wouldn’t give it to them, and he smiled, “I know you just bought the house, and it’s not renovated yet. Don’t worry about that. We’ll handle the renovations ourselves. When Percy gets married, he’ll thank you properly.” I was stunned, thinking, “What kind of nonsense was that?” I opened my mouth, wanting to say something. I couldn’t figure out how someone could be so shameless. He was the one who wanted someone else’s house, and yet he made it sound like I was taking advantage of him. He wanted to take my house, which was worth 1.6 million dollars, and he thought that all he had to do was say thank you? I looked at the two of them sitting on the sofa, and suddenly, I laughed. “Fine. You can have the house. “It is worth one million and six hundred thousand dollars. Do you want to pay it by card or in cash?”

My father’s face immediately darkened, and he slammed his hand on the table. “Rosina, how dare you say that? Is giving the house to Percy so hard for you? Don’t you know you should support your family? “Do you really think it’s appropriate to ask your uncle for that much money? How heartless can you be? I’m not dead yet! This family is still under my control! Now go give your house to Percy!” I thought, “It’s easy for you, huh?” I had already seen the pattern. I knew that my father would give anything that wasn’t his to others without hesitation. My house was like the job he gave away from my mother and the money he loaned out from our savings. He’d give away whatever others wanted. Other people’s problems always came first. If the neighbor’s water pipe broke, he would get out of bed in the middle of the night to fix it. If the streetlight outside someone’s house went out, he would change it promptly, even in the dead of night. Everyone thought my mom had married a “family-oriented” man, and they called my father the local “good guy”. When my mom married him, it seemed like she was in for a life of comfort. Unfortunately, things didn’t develop that way. At our own house, my dad just gave us the runaround. When my mom asked him to do something, he always said, “I’ll take care of it soon,” but he never actually did. Later, my mom broke her leg going upstairs in the dark, and he didn’t bother to replace the light bulb. When I finally made it to college, just before tuition was due, my father gave my tuition money to a friend’s kid instead. That man was hardly his friend, it was just someone he knew from the bar. When it was time for me to pay my tuition, he couldn’t come up with the money. After he couldn’t hide it any longer, he finally admitted he’d lent it to a person who was almost a stranger. It was a sunny September day, but after hearing his words, my mother and I were drenched in cold sweat. At that time, we were outside, surrounded by many people. My mother grabbed my father by the collar and glared at him. “Did you give the money away again? That is Rosina’s tuition!” My father looked everywhere but at us, too guilty to speak. My mother and I cried helplessly at the gate of the university, and it was only with the help of a senior that I managed to apply for a student loan and finally got into university. I never understood why people always called my father a “good man”. They said it with smiles, but there was always a mocking undertone. It was as I grew up that I understood why my mother became more and more silent when she heard someone else say that and why everyone’s face always had that same sarcastic expression when they talked about my father. Now, he was attempting to win favor by pretending to be generous with my house. Hearing my father’s words, Terry sighed and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I understand if Rosina doesn’t want to give it to us. Everyone knows you’re the kindest person around, a real friend. That’s why I came to you for help. Since it isn’t your call, we’ll let it go. Percy’s wedding can be delayed for a few years.” The more he said, the lower my father’s head dropped and the angrier he looked at me. I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. “Uncle Terry, you should know better. As Percy’s father, you are responsible for getting him the house. I have never heard anyone come to their niece for a house. If I give you my house, people would think Percy is my son!” No sooner had I finished speaking than my father slapped me across the face. “How dare you talk like that to your uncle? How dare you call Percy your son? It’s just a house! How dare you disobey your father? “Rosina, as long as I’m alive, I’m the one in charge of this house! You’re going to give that house to Percy whether you like it or not!” Looking at my father, all righteous and indignant, I trembled with anger. “If he wants the house, let him buy it himself! I’m not giving it!” No wonder my mom had warned me so many times not to let my dad know about the house. She had already predicted someone would come asking for it. It had always been like this. Whenever anyone had a problem, they’d come to my father, and he wouldn’t turn anyone down. He was known as Mr. Nice Guy, but in reality, people saw him as a pushover.

After I left home, I stood on the street and called my mom to tell her what had happened. She sighed on the other end of the line. “Your dad won’t give up. He hates being called a hypocrite. Don’t go back home for now. Why don’t you come to stay with me for a few days instead?” I thought for a moment and said no. Maybe it was because my mom had put up with my father so much for so long. By the time I went to college, my mom finally exploded. After I was settled in, she and my dad had a huge argument. That same day, they went to file for divorce. By the time I was in my third year of college, my mom had remarried. Now, it didn’t feel quite right to visit her. I hesitated for a long while, and in the end, I rented a small apartment near my company. I knew I couldn’t go back to live at home. When my parents divorced, my dad’s sole stipulation was that I should live with him, ensuring that I would take care of him when he was old. He wanted me to live with him solely for his own benefit. I thought that if I just kept my distance, it would be fine. But I had seriously underestimated how far my dad was willing to go to maintain his image of the “good guy” in front of others. One day, while I was at work, I received a call from the property management of my house. I hadn’t been back home for a long time because of the house situation. They had been quiet these past few days. After I scolded them once, they didn’t bother me again. I really thought they had given up on trying to take my house. But when I heard what the person on the phone said, I realized just how naive I had been. “Ms. Davidson, a gentleman who claims to be your father is here with a group of people and is demanding that we open your door. Do you know about this?” My head was spinning. After days of work, I felt dizzy at this news. I didn’t expect they would be so crazy. “Don’t open the door. Stop them. I’ll be there soon.” I took the rest of the day off and rushed back to my house. When I arrived, the scene at the door was chaos. “Why won’t you open the door? If you don’t, I’ll file a complaint! I’m her father. Don’t I have the right to enter my daughter’s house? “If you don’t open it, I’ll have my daughter fire you!” There was pushing and shoving. The situation was quickly spiraling out of control. I walked over and stood in front of the door, coldly eyeing the crowd. “What do you think you’re doing?” My dad looked guilty. He couldn’t bring himself to look at me and remained silent. “Ah, so this is Rosina. Long time no see. “When you were little, your dad always said you’d do well in school and have a bright future. He even said you’d help our family one day. Looks like he was right!” I looked at the man speaking with a cold gaze. I gave him a once-over before dismissively looking away. Judging by his tone and the people around him, I could tell this was Percy, the son of Terry, the one who was getting married. “What are you doing here?” I asked coldly. He chuckled, running his hands through his greasy hair. “We’re here to take over the house!” For a moment, I was stunned, unable to process what he meant. “This is my house,” I said slowly, still trying to wrap my head around it. “Well, I should really thank you and Uncle Henley for this,” he said. “If Uncle Henley hadn’t agreed to give me this house, I wouldn’t have been able to get married! We’re just here to see how we’ll renovate it. “By the way, Rosina, the property management here is really unreliable! They block us at the door. Once we move in, I’m going to file a complaint!” At that moment, everything clicked. My dad had decided to act first and deal with the consequences later!

I took a deep breath at the door, trying to calm myself. I’d been working overtime for days. The sudden anger made my heart ache. My dad stood in front of me. “Rosina, look, everyone’s here now. You should open the door so they can come in. We can’t just let everyone stand out here, can we?” His words were the final straw. Terry’s wife, Martha Davidson, who had been standing beside him, squeezed past and grabbed my hand, her eyes filled with barely contained mockery and glee. “Exactly! I’ve always said that you two are nice people. No one in this whole area can match your generosity! “Your dad’s been helping so many people over the years, and he’s basically a saint! Who knows, he might even end up in the county history book!” She spoke the words as if they were compliments, but all I could think of was the memory of her laughing behind our backs, calling us “goody-goody”. I sneered. Slowly, I pulled my hand out of her grasp. “Did you hear that, Rosina? Open the door and let everyone in! You are my daughter, and you should be more considerate of others! “You really shouldn’t be so money-obsessed! Don’t make such a big deal out of it. When family or friends are in need, you should always lend a hand.” I was stunned. I didn’t know how I could have given him the impression that I was so money-obsessed. I raised an eyebrow, my gaze cold as ice. I took a slow breath and said, “If I give you the house, where can I live?” I wanted to see how shameless they could get. As expected, their faces lit up at my words. They thought I’d finally agreed to give them the house. They smiled wider, pretending to care about me. “You’re so successful, so why would you need this house? You could easily buy another one!” “We won’t just take it from you. After Percy gets married and has a kid, his kid will take care of you in your old age. You’ll be their favorite aunt!” “But, you’ll need to help take care of the kid. You can pay for things like formula, diapers, and the tuition fees.” I felt they were all out of their minds. I thought, “If money is so easy to make, why don’t you buy your own house?” Meanwhile, my dad stood to the side, soaking up their praise, his head swelling with every compliment. He looked like he was floating on air. “Did you hear that, Rosina? Hurry up and let us in!” I thought, “Oh, he likes being the good guy, doesn’t he? Fine. Let’s see how generous you are when it comes to your own benefit!” “But Uncle Terry, taking my house won’t do you any good,” I said with a sly smile. “Why not take my dad’s instead? Haven’t you heard? They’re planning to demolish that neighborhood. That house is worth over ten million dollars now!” The words hit them like a thunderclap.

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After days of silence, Landon Drake suddenly invited me to our Hidden Creek Hideout on our ninth anniversary. When I arrived, rose petals fluttered like snow, and 999 heartfelt letters descended from above. Overwhelmed with joy, I opened one of the letters, only to see the words: “To my dearest love, Talia.” Before I could ask Landon what was going on, I saw Talia Monroe’s Instagram Story: “When the right person loves you, you shine bright! P.S.: Sorry, old lady, for stealing your surprise, but my darling’s love is untouchable!” Is the picture attached? A deed for a house—my wedding house. Stunned, I barely registered Landon storming in, only to launch into a tirade. “She’s just a kid who wanted some romance! Do you have to be so jealous?” Calmly, I tossed the letters and the house keys into his hands. “Well then, congratulations on your wedding. Enjoy.” Content Landon’s grip faltered, and the letters and keys clattered. The sound of the fake keys hitting the ground felt like a dagger to my chest. Fake. Even the keys were fake. A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but it quickly morphed into righteous indignation. “Maisie, how old are you? And you’re still fighting over stuff meant for a kid? You’ve let me down.” A kid? If I remember correctly, Talia Monroe is two years older than me. It turns out that when loved enough, someone can be pampered like children, no matter their age. I found it laughable and didn’t bother responding. Turning on my heel, I walked away. As I left, memories of the past nine years flooded my mind. We have met in college and have been together since. There have been no dramatic highs or soul-crushing lows, just steady, quiet happiness. Friends often told me to hold on tight to Landon. “He might be a bit old-fashioned, but he’s a good man—faithful and thoughtful in the little things.” And I believed it. His lack of romantic gestures was just part of his personality. Now I realize it wasn’t a matter of personality. I simply wasn’t worth the effort. I called and canceled everything for the wedding. Afterward, I went to Brewer’s Haven Café. I ordered a coffee and a slice of cake. The sweet cream melted on my tongue, a taste I hadn’t indulged in for years. It made my chest ache, and tears rolled down my face uncontrollably. This was my favorite cake. I stopped eating it because Landon said I was getting fat, like a pig. I’ve shortchanged myself so much for so long. I’d barely taken a second bite when Landon called. “Did you just use my Couples Pay account?” I froze, checked my phone, and realized I had accidentally used $58 from his account while paying. I remembered begging him to set up that account with me. The limit was only $100, but I had clung to it, desperate for proof of his love. “Sorry,” I said softly, transferring the money back immediately before unlinking myself from the account. There was a pause. “It’s not about the money,” he said finally. “I’m just trying to teach you to be more independent. Women who rely on men aren’t attractive.” I said nothing. Sensing the awkwardness, he switched topics. “The hotel just called. Did you cancel the wedding banquet?” “Yes.” I took another bite of cake. “Good call,” he said, a rare note of approval in his voice. “Life’s about sincerity, not these meaningless formalities. I’m glad you’re starting to understand.” His shamelessness no longer surprised me. Before I could respond, a message from Talia Monroe popped up on my phone. Landon had taken her for a bridal photo shoot to make up for the surprise he’d promised her. The attached picture showed them holding hands, laughing blissfully. It’s amazing how he found the time to scold me about $58 while doting on her. I let out a bitter laugh. “Landon Drake,” I said aloud, “I thought you’d gotten the message. But since you didn’t, let me clarify. We’re done. Do you understand now?”

I hung up before he could respond. Sipping my coffee, I allowed myself to enjoy a rare moment of peace. I’d expected heartbreak, but what I felt instead was calm—a quiet acceptance of the end of our nine years together. Letting go, for the first time, felt liberating. The phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Landon. His parents. My dad. My stepmother. I silenced everything, turned off my phone, and enjoyed the silence for the first time in years. That night, I returned home, only for Landon to arrive shortly after. He held a takeout box with half-eaten steak inside. “I brought you some steak,” he announced, placing it on the table. It was leftover from Talia Monroe. I’d seen her Instagram Story: A luxury restaurant where a meal costs at least ten grand. She’d written: “Couldn’t finish it, so might as well feed the stray dogs!” And I was the stray dog. The cold, greasy meat made my stomach churn. The stench of leftover sauce hit my nose, and I couldn’t hold it in—I ran to the sink and retched. “Take it away!” Landon frowned. Only when he saw me vomiting did he finally remove it. “You’re so dramatic.” “Maisie, money doesn’t grow on trees. You’ll need to learn to be frugal when we’re married, right?” I rinsed my mouth and wiped my face. “Be frugal? So you and Talia can enjoy the savings?” His face darkened. Sensing the change, he hesitated before pulling a gift box from behind his back and tossing it toward me. The unsealed box tumbled open, revealing a white lace veil. It was stained. “Talia has great taste. She picked this for you. Consider it my gift—no need for you to pay me back.” He stepped forward, intending to place it on my head, but I stepped back, eyes burning. Landon Drake had never once treated me like a person. “Keep it,” I said, my voice steady. “You’ll need it.” Turning, I headed to the bedroom to pack my things. Before I could close the door, he grabbed my arm with bruising force. I cried out as blood seeped from an old wound on my arm—a knife wound from two weeks ago when I’d shielded him in a fight. The pain was sharp, but his words had cut deeper that day. “Talia was scared,” he had said. “Go to the hospital yourself. I’ll cover half the bill.” Tonight, his eyes showed a fleeting trace of guilt before his phone buzzed, and he hurriedly left the room. Minutes later, Talia’s message lit up my phone: “Can’t sleep. My darling came to tuck me in.” I replied coldly: “Take him. A bitch and her dog—may you last forever.”

After finishing packing, I called Cassidy Bloom. “Maisie, happy birthday! Did you get the gift I sent you?” Cassidy’s cheerful voice bubbled through the phone. Hearing her, my nose stung, and moments later, tears streamed down my face. It was my birthday. Even I had almost forgotten. “What’s wrong, Maisie?” Cassidy’s tone grew concerned, picking up on my sniffles. “I’m just touched. Thank you, Cassidy,” I replied softly. “I want to come to you as soon as I can. Can we finalize the paperwork quickly? Everything else is already sorted, and I don’t need to be there for the rest.” Cassidy’s company had been shifting its operations abroad. Half a month ago, I’d agreed to work overseas with her. I had planned to tell Landon, but after getting hurt, I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to him. Even this morning, at Hidden Creek Hideout, I hesitated. Maybe I shouldn’t go. Perhaps he does love me. Looking back, I realize I was deluding myself. Cassidy paused on the other end of the line but didn’t press me. “I’ll get everything ready,” she said decisively. After hanging up, I hired movers to clear out everything I had decorated in the house. It was laughable. Landon had always insisted on splitting everything equally, yet he constantly implied I was freeloading. The truth? I had paid for most of it. I worked late into the night, finishing just after 2 a.m. As the movers left, Cassidy called to confirm my flight. Three days. Standing in the now-empty room, I exhaled deeply, feeling an unexpected weight lift. Then my phone buzzed. Landon. “Talia’s stomach is upset. That soup you make is great for that—could you cook some and bring it over?” “Don’t overthink it. I just saw her as a kid. Spend more time with her—you’ll see. Wouldn’t having a kid as pretty as her someday be great?” “I wouldn’t mind if you had one with her,” I said flatly. There was a long silence on the other end. Landon seemed at a loss for words, perhaps even preparing to yell at me, but restrained himself, likely thinking of Talia. “Don’t be like this, Maisie. If I did have one with her, you’d probably cry your eyes out,” he said with a sigh. “I just want you to be kinder.” I ended the call without another word, knowing he fully expected me to attend. But I didn’t. Instead, I slept soundly for the first time in weeks. The following day, I drove to Silverstone, Indiana—back to my hometown. I bought my mom’s favorite bouquet of lilies and placed them at her grave. “Mom,” I whispered, gently tracing her photo. I hadn’t planned to cry, but the moment I saw her face, the tears came unbidden. “I might not be coming back. Maybe not ever.” My voice cracked. “Forgive me, Mom.” The words had barely left my lips when a sharp pain jolted through my scalp. I was yanked backward and slammed to the ground. It was Laura Braxton. SLAP. She struck me hard across the face. “Don’t mess with me! I’ve already taken Landon’s dowry. If it gets taken back, I’ll kill you!” Clutching my stinging cheek, I stood and grabbed a handful of her hair in return. Before I could retaliate further, Frank Bellamy stormed over and slapped me across the face again. “You ungrateful little brat!” he roared. “Listen to your mother—she only wants what’s best for you.” I stared at their twisted faces, and in a haze, I saw Landon standing in the distance. He was watching, smirking at my misery. I heard his voice, calm and cruel. “Maisie Bellamy, no one else will ever want you.”

I fixed my gaze on Landon, my mind swirling with disbelief. “What’s with that look?” he snapped. “Maisie, you’re almost thirty and still act so immature.” “Do you know what your stepmother said to me?” he continued. “She said if you don’t marry me, she’ll marry you off to Kendrick. Do you remember when he forced himself on you while your dad just stood there? That desperation you felt?” “Maisie, don’t forget—it wasn’t me begging to marry you. It was you chasing after me.” He smirked, his eyes glinting with mockery. His words cut deep, but I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. I had once called him my knight in shining armor. Someone who had swooped in, dazzling and brave, to rescue me from the darkness. But that same knight had returned, not to save me, but to join my tormentors. The irony was almost too much. But Landon seemed to have forgotten one thing. Before I met him, I had been perfectly capable of defending myself—fighting back against those who tried to hurt me. Right then, his phone rang, and Talia Monroe’s voice came through, high-pitched and demanding. “Baby, you promised to bring her here to apologize. Everyone’s waiting! Don’t disappoint me, or I’ll be mad at you!” Landon lowered his voice, soothing her before hanging up and turning to me. “She’s sensitive about appearances,” he explained. “You upset her stomach yesterday. All I’m asking is for you to apologize and smooth things over. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” So this wasn’t even about me. It was about salvaging her pride. I’d always known my place in his life, but after nine years, the pain still hit with surprising force. He dragged me to the car before I could protest and drove me to the restaurant. All eyes turned to me inside the private suite, their gazes filled with amusement. “Well, it looks like Maisie decided to skip makeup today. Did she slap herself for some color?” Talia sneered, sending the room into laughter. Landon’s grip on my arm tightened, but I didn’t fight it. I let him lead me to a seat on the sofa. I glanced at Talia, my tone calm and detached. “I’m 28. You’re 30, aren’t you? Talia, the crow’s feet are already showing. Stop pretending to be younger than you are—you’re fooling no one.” Her face blanched, and tears welled in her eyes. She turned to Landon, clutching his arm dramatically. “See? This is what you call an apology? She’s doing this on purpose to humiliate me!” “Maisie, apologize!” Landon barked, his tone icy. I stayed silent. Sighing, he turned to Talia with exaggerated gentleness. “Baby, don’t cry. It’s my fault, okay? Punish me however you like.” “Really?” she sniffled, a sly smile creeping onto her lips. “You said Maisie’s hair always clogs the floor and drives you crazy. Why not shave it off for her?”

When Kendrick Braxton tried to force himself on me, I made a massive scene. Laura Braxton’s carefully curated image as the “sweet, caring stepmom” crumbled in front of everyone. Furious, she accused me of seducing her son. She then had my father tie me up like an animal and shave my hair off with scissors. She even scraped off my eyebrows. If my screams hadn’t drawn the neighbors’ attention, she might have gone through with her threat to carve words into my face. From then on, every strand of hair that fell to the floor earned me another beating. I spent years with a cropped head, my humiliation on full display. People looked down on me. Ridiculed me. When I shared this with Landon Drake, I had hoped for sympathy, but he turned my suffering into a joke for Talia Monroe’s amusement. Nine years. I thought he might hesitate. But he immediately called for scissors when he realized shaving my head would make Talia happy. Instinctively, I moved toward the door, but his friends blocked my path. “What are you doing?” I demanded. “Maisie, you upset the little princess. You deserve to be punished.” Landon walked toward me, calm and unbothered. “It’s just hair. It’ll grow back. But making her smile? That’s priceless.” At his signal, his friends pinned me down. I thrashed and struggled as Talia gleefully approached, her eyes glinting triumphantly. My anger boiled over, and as I flailed, my nail accidentally grazed her arm. It didn’t even leave a mark. But that tiny scratch was enough to send Landon into a rage. He stormed over and kicked me in the stomach so hard I flew into the door. Pain erupted through my abdomen, a sharp, unbearable cramp spreading. I felt something warm and wet pooling beneath me. At that moment, I knew. Grabbing Landon’s arm, I begged him through tears, “Please, save our baby.” But he didn’t care. He stayed focused on Talia, holding her hand while cutting my hair. The blades scraped against my scalp, the pain excruciating. Warm blood trickled down my face, mixing with my tears. A gasp broke through the laughter. “Blood! She’s bleeding!” Landon didn’t even glance back. “It’s just a scratch. Patch it up later.” “No, Landon—look at the floor! There’s so much blood!” His tone faltered as he finally turned around. The sight of the blood pooling beneath me made him freeze. “Maisie…” I lifted my tear-streaked face to look at him, blood and sorrow blurring my vision. “Congratulations, Landon Drake.” “You’ve just killed your child.”

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Because of a jar of chocolate, I asked Vivienne Shaw for a divorce. It was in the seventh year of our marriage. She looked at me, annoyed. “I’m really tired, can you stop making a fuss?” I calmly looked at her, then picked up what I had prepared long ago: “This is the divorce agreement.” While doing laundry, I found half-eaten chocolate in Vivienne’s coat pocket. I froze. How could she have something like this? Vivienne had always been strict about her appearance, working in the fashion industry. To keep her skin clear and her figure slim, she avoided sugar religiously. She wouldn’t even eat many carbs, let alone something as sugary and indulgent as a jar of M&M’s Minis. I remembered finding a small packet of cookies in the car a few days ago. She said a coworker gave it to her. But all her coworkers knew she avoided sugar. Why would anyone give her cookies? After hesitating for a long time, I finally went down to the garage to check the car’s dashcam. The sound of the car door closing played, followed by a cheerful, familiar male voice: “You’re the best, Vivienne. Thanks for waiting for me.” The voice was warm, bright—pleasant to the ears. But all I felt was a chilling sensation spreading through my body, and my heart ached as if struck by a hammer. Vivienne let out a light laugh. “Everyone else is working late, aren’t you worried they’ll talk since you left early?” Jaxon, pretending to be cocky, replied, “I’m part of the new generation! Besides, everyone knows you were waiting for me. With you around, why should I care what they think?” Vivienne laughed heartily, amused by his youthful arrogance. I was suddenly reminded of when Vivienne and I used to work together, back when our marriage wasn’t public knowledge. Whenever we crossed paths in the office, she would walk right past me as if she didn’t know me at all. Whenever I brought it up, she would get impatient: “Don’t you know the company policy? If people find out about us, do you think I’ll still have a chance at a promotion?” At that time, my world revolved around Vivienne, but for Vivienne, her world was all about work. As she rose higher in her career and got busier, I ended up quitting my job to become a full-time homemaker, taking care of everything for her. But now, she didn’t seem worried about jeopardizing her promotion at all. There was a soft “pop” as Jaxon opened something. “Vivienne, have some chocolate.” Vivienne chuckled. “No thanks, kid. I don’t eat stuff like that. You go ahead.” “But I want to feed it to you!” Jaxon whined. I snapped back to reality, smiling bitterly at myself as I listened to the sound of Vivienne crunching on the M&M’s. After she finished the chocolate, she said, “Don’t eat too much. I’ll take you somewhere nice for dinner.” I turned off the dashcam. I couldn’t listen any longer. My head throbbed, and I wanted to open the window to get some fresh air, but my body felt drained, like I couldn’t even lift a finger. I thought back to the past. I used to cook all kinds of meals for Vivienne to help her eat better. Within a year, I went from being a kitchen rookie to knowing how to make dishes from several cuisines. One Thanksgiving, I made a honey-glazed ham. Vivienne didn’t get home until nearly midnight. When she saw the dish, she threw down her fork. “This is so greasy, so sweet! How am I supposed to eat this?” Then she got up and went to the bedroom, leaving me sitting alone at the dinner table, stunned. I had just wanted to make something festive for the holiday, but it ended in an argument. I knew she was stressed from work. At the time, I regretted being so careless, making her go hungry on a holiday. But I had forgotten that the table was full of dishes, not just the ham. But now, she had eaten half a jar of chocolate. Turns out, it wasn’t the sugar that was the problem. It was me. I found the divorce papers I had tucked away. I’d printed them a long time ago, but I hadn’t wanted to bring them out. I admit, I wasn’t ready to let go of our marriage. I’d liked Vivienne for so long. From the moment I first saw her, my heart raced, and she became the most beautiful color in my youth. But she had fallen for the campus heartthrob. He came from a wealthy family, and his mother didn’t approve of Vivienne. Instead, they arranged for him to marry a well-off debutante. Vivienne was heartbroken, so she settled for me, the guy who had always been by her side. I knew all of this, and I didn’t care. I kept waiting. Waiting for her to see me. Waiting for her to fall in love with me. But I failed. From the moment I saw Jaxon, I felt uneasy. He reminded me too much of the type Vivienne liked. They both had that sunny, clean-cut look, playful and lively, always the center of attention—unlike me, who was content to stand quietly in her shadow. The first time I felt something was off was when Jaxon called late one night. He was just an intern, and while they talked about work, there was nothing urgent. Why would an intern call the department director late at night instead of speaking to colleagues or other supervisors? It didn’t make sense. Vivienne was lying on the couch at the time. She had neck problems and sometimes headaches. I was giving her a massage to help her relax when she suddenly sat up, rushing to answer the phone. I could feel her excitement, and even a hint of nervousness. “Just go for it, don’t overthink it. We’re in a creative industry; you don’t need to hold back.” She listened patiently as he rambled about work. The entire time, the corners of Vivienne’s mouth lifted into a soft smile. After she hung up, she seemed in a great mood, even humming a tune while putting on a face mask. I sat there in the living room, feeling like my heart was being ripped apart. I didn’t think Vivienne intended to hurt our family at first. She tried to restrain herself. Every time Jaxon called, she kept it professional. But emotions are probably the hardest thing to control. Even if you cover your mouth, they find a way out through your eyes. Soon, her phone was always in her hand, and she started laughing to herself for no reason. She worked late more and more often. When I finally brought it up, she looked at me with disdain and said coldly, “Elliott, you’re a grown man who does nothing all day and obsesses over the smallest things. It’s pathetic.” Her words deflated me like a punctured balloon. I no longer had the courage to confront her. It wasn’t her fault, though. I had always known—I wasn’t the one being loved. But my heart hurt so much that I became numb, and in that numbness, I realized something: I deserve to be loved, too. Divorcing over a jar of chocolate might sound ridiculous. But I was tired. I didn’t want to be the loyal dog anymore. Even if no one else loved me, I could still love myself.

I took a deep breath and handed the divorce papers to Vivienne. She was at her desk, typing away on her computer, and she irritably swatted them out of my hand. “Elliott, can’t you see I’m working?” “How many times have I told you not to bother me when I’m busy—” This time, I didn’t stay silent. I cut her off: “These are the divorce papers. Look them over. If everything’s fine, just sign.” Vivienne was stunned for a moment, then she let out a mocking laugh. “Elliott, I see you’ve grown some backbone. What’s this? You think I haven’t given you enough, so now you want to push me into pampering you even more? You want to mooch off me?” I met her gaze calmly. “Did you forget? Back when we graduated, I had better options. It was you who said you needed me by your side, so I took a job at a company I didn’t even like. You excelled in your field, worked late every day, to the point where you had stomach ulcers. That’s why I quit to take care of you. How much does a live-in housekeeper in New York City cost per month? Would the money you spent on me even come close? Don’t paint yourself as a saint. It’s me, Elliott Reid, who’s been taking care of you—not the other way around.” Vivienne’s eyes widened in shock. She never expected me to say something like that. Then she swept the unsigned divorce papers to the floor in anger, yelling at me: “What the hell is wrong with you? Acting all high and mighty now? Do you think I’m too old and ugly for you, is that it? Is that why you want a divorce?” I simply replied, “The chocolate in your pocket—you ate half of it.” “What?” Vivienne’s face hardened, then suddenly, as if realizing something, her expression grew nervous. “You’re divorcing me over chocolate?” I looked at her, nodding seriously. “Yes.” I paused before adding, “Whether you agree or not doesn’t matter. If you refuse, I’ll file for divorce. I’m a stay-at-home husband, Vivienne—I’ve got all the time in the world.” Vivienne glared at me, then let out a bitter laugh. She picked up the crumpled divorce papers from the floor, signed them, and threw them back at me. “Get out!” she shouted, pointing at the door. I didn’t even look back. I turned and left. “Elliott, don’t come crawling back to me like a dog. Once you walk out that door, there’s no turning back,” Vivienne spat venomously at my back. My face flushed, my chest felt tight, and my heart throbbed with pain. I’d threatened divorce before in moments of despair, but I always backed down. I couldn’t bear to leave this home we’d built, couldn’t bear to leave the woman I had loved for so many years. She always knew where to hit me the hardest. She might forget my birthday, but she sure knew how to hurt me. I grabbed my jacket and said, “Let’s go. We’ve got time now; we can head to the courthouse.” Vivienne didn’t continue insulting me. She stood up and yelled, “Elliott, are you seriously doing this?”

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When I went back home for Thanksgiving, I discovered that my 60-year-old mother-in-law was pregnant with her third child. After finding out, she tried to manipulate me into paying for everything and helping her out. When I finally confronted them, Blake, my husband, excused his mom, saying she’s had a hard life. His true nature as a mama’s boy was revealed. They really thought they could take advantage of me. No way. I filed for divorce, leaving my husband to live with his mom for the rest of his life. Let them figure it out. At the end of the year, Blake and I hurried back to the Whitford Family Home, with our daughter, Violet, to celebrate Thanksgiving. But the moment I saw my mother-in-law, Evelyn, something felt off. She used to be around 90 pounds, but now she looked like she had easily gained more than 20 pounds. What struck me more was how drastically her attitude toward me had changed. She warmly held my hand, looked at my eight-month-pregnant belly, and asked, “Have you been getting your prenatal checkups regularly?” I thought maybe Evelyn was finally changing her cold attitude from when I had given birth the last time. Feeling touched, I replied, “Yes, I’ve done all my prenatal checkups.” Then, Evelyn asked, “I’m curious, when women get older, do they need an amniocentesis test?” Why was she asking me this out of the blue? Just then, Violet pointed at Evelyn’s belly and asked, “Grandma, is there a baby in your belly?” I quickly glanced at Evelyn’s midsection. Sure enough, her waistline had expanded noticeably. Flustered, Evelyn said, “Oh, I’m 60 years old! There’s no baby here, I’ve just put on some weight.” I sighed in relief. But when I walked into the house, I saw baby clothes, a crib, and… prenatal vitamins. I was the only pregnant woman in the house. Colton, my brother-in-law, had a girlfriend, but she wasn’t staying with us. So, who were those baby supplies for? I didn’t want to think too much about it. That night, I told Blake about my suspicions. Blake rubbed my belly and reassured me, “That’s Mom’s stuff. Prenatal vitamins are easier to absorb, and her immune system isn’t great. She’s been drinking them to boost her health. Didn’t you notice she’s gained weight?” Even though Blake had explained it away, and I could rationalize that maybe Evelyn was giving the baby stuff to someone else, I still felt uneasy. So, I started paying closer attention to Evelyn. I saw Grant, my father-in-law, place his hand on Evelyn’s belly when he came home from work, and Evelyn would shyly look down. I noticed that when Evelyn bent down to pick things up, she unconsciously protected her stomach. Even Violet mentioned that Grandma had been eating a lot of sour foods lately. All signs pointed to the fact that Evelyn, my 60-year-old mother-in-law, was pregnant. But the whole family was keeping it from me. No one wanted to tell me. During dinner one night, I asked Evelyn, “Mom, you never used to like vinegar. Why are you eating so many sour things now?” Before Evelyn could respond, Blake interrupted, “What Mom likes to eat is her business. Why are you, as her daughter-in-law, getting so nosy?” I shot Blake a look that made him go quiet. Still, without an answer from Evelyn, I couldn’t even finish my meal. I kept asking Evelyn why she liked sour foods now. Suddenly, Grant slammed his utensils on the table. “Your mother is pregnant! So what if she didn’t tell you? It’s her right to be pregnant. Does she need your permission?” Blake tried to calm me down, saying, “You shouldn’t be upset. You’re not supposed to tell anyone in the first three months of pregnancy, and that’s why Mom kept it a secret.” So, they all knew? They all knew Evelyn was pregnant, and I was left in the dark? A 60-year-old mother-in-law and I pregnant at the same time? I would be the laughingstock of the town! But I couldn’t get mad because of my own pregnancy. I took deep breaths to calm myself. After a while, I gently said to Evelyn, “Mom, you’re not even three months in yet. Maybe it’s time to consider ending the pregnancy.” Evelyn clutched her belly and shrieked, “The baby inside me is an innocent life! Why is it okay for you to have a baby but not me?” I remained calm. “Because you can’t have this baby. You’re 60. It’s bad for your health, and frankly, it’s embarrassing to tell others.” “Plus, how are you going to raise a child? Do you and Dad have a retirement fund or pension? Blake and I are the ones paying for your vitamins and health insurance. Are we supposed to take care of this baby too?” I got a little worked up. Evelyn burst into tears, holding her belly and saying she didn’t feel well. Grant helped her up and glared at me. Grant added, “Do you think it’s easy for us to have a third child? We love kids. Why can’t we have one? And you’re just a stay-at-home mom. You get to spend Blake’s money, so why can’t we as his parents?” I was livid. I stormed off to the bedroom to calm myself, reminding myself not to get too angry for the sake of my baby. As I thought back on what Grant had said, I realized every word was an accusation. But calling me a stay-at-home mom who lived off Blake’s money? That was way off base. My family had given a generous dowry when we married, and I worked part-time to help with expenses. Half of the household costs came from me. So why did Evelyn and Grant act like I was some useless freeloader? Later that night, Blake tried to justify his parents’ behavior. “My parents have had a hard life. And you know, older folks believe that the more kids you have, the better. It makes the family lively, and more family is never a bad thing, right?” I scoffed, “Your mom’s hardships weren’t caused by me, were they? Did she have it easy before I married into this family? Am I the reason for all her struggles?” Blake fell silent. Whenever he went quiet like that, I knew he felt guilty. Before we got married, Blake would always defend me. He wouldn’t let his mom say a single bad thing about me. But after we tied the knot, every time Evelyn and I clashed, Blake would say, “My mom’s had a hard life.” Luckily, we didn’t live with his parents. Now I realize Blake was just a mama’s boy in disguise. If I had seen through him before the wedding, I never would have married him. But for my own sake, I had to stay calm. I was eight months pregnant. I couldn’t let myself get worked up. But the Whitford family wasn’t making it easy. The next day, Blake’s relatives showed up at the house, all rallying around Evelyn. One by one, they said things like, “It’s not easy for an older woman to get pregnant. This baby is a blessing from God. And having more kids makes for a livelier family.” “Exactly. When you marry into the Whitford family, you become part of the family. You should put the family first. What’s so wrong with your mother-in-law being pregnant at 60? How many women can even get pregnant at that age?” Evelyn’s relatives were acting like this was some kind of miracle and almost expected me to bow in gratitude for the blessing of a new brother- or sister-in-law. When they had finally worn themselves out, I calmly responded, “If having a baby at 60 is such a good thing, why don’t you have your mother or your daughters spend the postpartum recovery period with her?” They were speechless. But they didn’t give up that easily. They kept going on about how more kids would bring more energy and prosperity to the family. I sarcastically asked, “So am I done having babies?” At this point, Blake felt a bit embarrassed. He pulled me aside and said, “Honey, you should show some respect to the elders. That’s just basic manners.” I didn’t care what the rest of the Whitford family said, but Blake siding with them? That disgusted me. What a fool I was to marry him. But I was too pregnant to keep fighting and didn’t want to stress myself out. That night, when Blake was in the shower, I saw a notification pop up on his phone. He had transferred $2,000 to an online baby store. Curious, I snuck over to Evelyn’s bedroom and overheard her talking to Grant. “Did I order everything right online? I’ve bought so many baby supplies. Thank goodness Blake is such a good son and linked his bank card to mine. That way, it’ll be easier when I get the prenatal test and during my recovery.” Grant said with satisfaction, “That’s right. Having a good son is better than anything.” Evelyn hesitated for a moment and asked, “But what if Sloane makes a fuss about getting a divorce?” Grant replied, “Then let her divorce. We’ll be just fine as long as our family stays together. Who needs outsiders?” I felt like I had been struck by lightning. My whole body went numb. The baby in my belly must’ve sensed my distress and started kicking furiously. I rubbed my stomach to try and calm the baby down, but the kicking only grew more intense. I quickly lay down, waiting for Blake to come back and bring me some prenatal medicine. But when he returned, Blake said, “Taking too much prenatal medicine isn’t good for you. You’re just overthinking this and stressing yourself out.” I threw a pillow at Blake, shouting, “Am I overthinking things, or have you and your family been hiding all this from me? How many ‘good deeds’ have you been keeping from me?” Blake jumped up, accusing me, “You’ve been brainwashed by those online articles, haven’t you? You’re having a baby, and so is Mom. You’re younger, so you’ll recover quickly. When Mom has the baby, you can help her with the postpartum care.” He said it so seriously, like it was the most logical thing in the world. I had been shocked earlier by what I’d heard from Grant and Evelyn. But now, Blake was pushing me to my breaking point. I felt sick and dizzy, and my stomach began to hurt. I waved him off, too overwhelmed to even argue. But the next day, Blake told his mom, “Mom, don’t worry about a thing. Sloane is totally on board with you having the baby. We’ll take care of the costs and the postpartum recovery.” I didn’t agree to any of that! Blake had completely twisted what happened. I had only waved him off because I was feeling unwell. But I didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. Thanksgiving was in three days, and I decided to go back to the Monroe Family Estate to recover. I’d deal with everything else after the baby was born. I called my mom, and when I told her what was happening, she immediately exploded. “Evelyn has the nerve to get pregnant? And then expects you and Blake to raise the child?” Thank goodness my mom was on my side. She assumed Blake supported me, so I didn’t bother explaining. I just asked her to come and pick me up. Luckily, I didn’t live too far from my parents. It was only a two-hour drive. That evening, my parents arrived, and I quickly packed my things to leave. But just as we were about to go, Blake and his parents blocked the door. Evelyn turned to my mom and said, “You’re a mother too. You can’t be selfish…” My mom was not one to back down. She rolled up her sleeves and snapped back, “Well, I’m pregnant too. If your son is going to take care of your baby, then my daughter will take care of mine.”

Evelyn’s face turned pale as a ghost. “You’re too old to be pregnant! Don’t you have any shame?” My mom scoffed, rolling her eyes and spitting on the ground in disgust. “I’m only a few years younger than you. You think I’m too old, but you, at 60, can still be pregnant? You’re the one without shame!” Evelyn was left speechless, her expression as sour as if she’d just eaten something rotten. Watching the scene unfold, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction bubbling up inside me. My dad pulled Blake aside for a private talk. He had probably expected Blake to take my side, but what he didn’t expect was for Blake to say, “Sloane’s been moody during her pregnancy. I get that, it’s normal, but life’s never perfect, right?” When my dad heard Blake’s words, he realized there was no point in continuing the conversation. He walked back to the car, pulling me along with him. On the drive back, the tension in my belly worsened. The stress and anger had caused complications, and I was in serious pain. Worried, my parents rushed me to Riverview Medical Center. The doctors examined me and said I needed to be hospitalized. They warned that due to my unstable emotions, I was showing signs of a potential miscarriage. They recommended an immediate C-section to save the baby. On the first night after my surgery, Blake showed up at the hospital. The first words out of his mouth were, “Why are you picking a fight with my parents? Now the whole neighborhood is talking about what a joke they are. Sloane, you have no heart!” I was lying in a hospital bed, recovering from a C-section, and Blake had the nerve to come and berate me? The sight of him made my stomach turn. If I weren’t still healing, I swear I would’ve slapped him across the face. But my silence only made Blake think I was feeling guilty. He sneered, “You’re such a wicked woman. You have no kindness in you. It’s almost Thanksgiving, and instead of staying with your husband’s family, you ran off with your parents. Do you know how much shame you’ve brought to my parents and me?” His face was twisted with anger, and I could see the exhaustion in his eyes. It was clear he was losing sleep over the situation, but I couldn’t care less. I sat up slightly and said, “Fine, Blake, think of me as the bad guy. After I recover and give birth, we’re getting a divorce. You, your parents, and your new sibling can all live happily ever after without me. In fact, why don’t you let your mom have ten more kids? Why did you even bother getting married?” If I weren’t so physically drained, I would’ve given him a much bigger piece of my mind. Blake stared at me, dumbfounded, for a moment. Then, like a child throwing a tantrum, he pointed a finger in my face, yelling, “You’re disrespectful and ungrateful! How dare you speak to me like that!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I lunged forward, intending to bite his finger, but before I could, Blake shoved me hard. Being so heavy with pregnancy, I lost my balance and crashed to the floor. The impact made my head spin, and I felt like I was sinking into deep water, drowning in dizziness. Through the haze, I faintly heard my mom’s desperate screams and the doctors rushing in for an emergency.

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When I was a kid, a newlywed couple moved in next door. My parents were warm and welcoming, and after our families became close, Jennifer Thompson, the gentle and kind lady next door, would often bring me little snacks. Her sweet nature immediately made me like her. As the years passed and I hit my teenage years, I began to grow curious about relationships. I spent a lot of time at their house and often saw Jennifer taking care of her baby. Her curvy figure naturally became the source of my daydreams, and she firmly planted herself in my mind. But one time, while I was watching Jennifer feed her child, lost in thought, her husband caught me staring. He whispered something to her, and I saw her blush immediately. After that, he made up an excuse to send me home. From that point on, I felt that Jennifer started to distance herself from me, and the closeness between our families slowly faded away. This growing distance didn’t change how I felt. In fact, it only made me like her even more. When I was nineteen, during my first summer break from college, their marriage hit the rocks, and one day they had a huge fight. I saw Jennifer run out, crying, and head for the rooftop of the Westwood Apartments. I was really worried she might do something drastic, so I followed her. When I got to the rooftop, I found Jennifer huddled in a corner, sobbing uncontrollably, her whole body shaking. Seeing her like that broke my heart. I hated her husband at that moment—how could he not appreciate such an amazing woman? I summoned all my courage and approached her. “Jennifer, don’t cry. That man isn’t worth your tears.” She looked up, surprised to see me there. Seeing her face covered in tears, I couldn’t bear it. I don’t know what came over me, but I blurted out, “Jennifer, don’t cry! He doesn’t deserve you!” “What…?” Jennifer looked at me in shock. Gathering more courage, I dropped the formalities. “Jennifer, why don’t you just divorce him? When I graduate, I’ll marry you!” She was stunned, looking at me in complete disbelief. “What are you talking about?” she finally asked. “I… I like you!” I said, my heart racing. I had no idea where this boldness came from, but I’ll never forget the look of shock on her face. “You’re just a kid. You don’t understand anything,” Jennifer said as she stood up, trying to leave. But just as she passed by, I grabbed her hand. “Let go!” she demanded, her face flushed with embarrassment as she tried to pull away. “What are you doing?” “I…” I was so nervous I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know why I was being so impulsive, but in that moment, I made a bold decision. I pulled her into a hug and kissed her.

That kiss was my first, but it wasn’t sweet. Suddenly, Jennifer bit my lip. “Ouch!” I yelped in pain, immediately letting her go. Before I could say anything else— “You little jerk!” Smack! Jennifer slapped me hard across the face and ran off, crying. That slap snapped me back to reality. I was filled with regret, constantly replaying the scene in my head, asking myself, What the hell did I just do? I was terrified she would tell my parents or, worse, her husband. I couldn’t go home that night. Instead, I spent the entire night on the rooftop, too scared to face anyone. It wasn’t until late that night that my worried parents came looking for me. Jennifer came along with them. “Luke, what’s gotten into you?” my mom asked, panicked. “Luke, don’t scare us like this! Sure, you didn’t get into your dream college, but life is long…” They assumed I was upset about not getting into the college I wanted and thought I was in a dark place. Their concern was touching, but all I could think about was Jennifer. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. When our gazes met, she quickly looked away and left without a word. But I knew—she hadn’t told anyone about what happened. When I started college, I ended up dating a girl named Amy Summers. She was from the same city as me, and we went to school together. It didn’t take long for us to become a couple. For a while, I thought I’d moved on from Jennifer. But when I came home during the summer break, things next door had gotten worse. The fights between Jennifer and her husband were getting louder and more frequent. I could even hear the sounds of things breaking. Suddenly, all the memories of Jennifer came flooding back. I realized I had never truly forgotten her, and every moment we shared was still etched in my mind. At dinner, I casually asked, “What’s going on with Mr. and Mrs. Thompson? They seem to be fighting a lot lately.” “The seven-year itch, maybe,” my dad said with a shrug. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” my mom chimed in, shaking her head. “It’s because he failed at his business.” “Business?” I asked. “Yeah, he and a friend tried to start an import/export company, but it went under. They lost everything and now owe tens of thousands.” My mom added, “I even saw a realtor showing their house earlier today—they’re selling it to pay off the debt.” Hearing this, I felt awful. I wanted to help her. That night, I reached out to a friend, and we found summer jobs. My parents were supportive, seeing me so motivated. At the end of the month, I earned my first paycheck—$2,800. Most people would probably use that money to treat themselves or buy something nice. But I stood in front of their house, pacing at the stairs, clutching that money in my hands. When her husband left the house, I knocked on the door. Jennifer answered, looking exhausted. “What’s up?” she asked when she saw me standing there. “I…” I couldn’t help but think back to that night on the rooftop, and my face turned red. I handed her an envelope filled with cash. “Jennifer, I’m sorry for how I acted before. I was immature. I know your family is struggling financially right now. I earned this money working this summer—please, take it.” I stuffed the money into her hands and bolted back to my house. Little did I know that this simple gesture would change everything between us—and turn me into a man.

After giving Jennifer the money, I rushed home and tried to sleep early that night. But I couldn’t. The next morning, when my parents had left for work, the doorbell rang. “Who is it?” I asked as I opened the door. Jennifer stood there, looking at me with a soft smile. “You silly boy,” she said, handing me back the envelope of money. “I appreciate your kindness, but you need to keep this.” I tried to refuse, but she wouldn’t hear it. As we both tugged at the envelope, I accidentally brushed against her. My face flushed instantly. She, too, stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to say. “If you keep this up, I’ll get mad,” she finally said, trying to stay serious. “I just really want to help you get through this,” I replied earnestly. “You’re such a sweet boy. If only he were half as thoughtful as you…” Her words trailed off, and I could see a deep sadness in her eyes. Seeing her like that tugged at my heart. For a moment, the air between us was still. Neither of us said anything. Finally, I stammered, “Why don’t you come in and sit down for a while?” “I can’t take the money, though,” she insisted, handing the envelope back. I didn’t push it. Instead, I invited her inside. She sat down on the couch, looking around. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in your house.” “Yeah,” I agreed with a smile. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?” “You have coffee?” she asked, surprised. “I do. I picked up some while working at the grocery store. Let me make you a cup.” “Thanks,” she said with a nod. I went to the kitchen and brewed her some coffee. When I brought it back, she took the cup, but instead of drinking, she stared at it for a moment before placing it on the table. “Time flies, doesn’t it? I remember when we first moved here, you were just a little kid. And now, you’re about to finish your second year of college,” she said softly. “Yeah, I’ll be twenty soon,” I replied. “Your birthday’s coming up, right?” “Yep. My parents are throwing a small party for me next Sunday.” Jennifer looked at me with her usual warmth. “Do you want anything special for your birthday? Maybe I can get you a gift.” Hearing that, my heart skipped a beat. “I’d just like you to come to the party. I don’t really need a gift.” “Are you sure?” Jennifer smiled gently. “You don’t want anything else?” “Well…” I hesitated. Given her financial situation, I didn’t want to burden her with getting me a present. But deep down, I still wanted something from her—it would mean more to me than any other gift. Before I could figure out what to say, she stood up and said, “I’ve never seen your room before. Mind showing me around?” “Sure,” I replied without thinking, leading her to my room. “Sorry for the mess,” I said awkwardly, glancing around. When I turned back to look at her, I was shocked. Jennifer was leaning against the door—and she had locked it behind her.

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