Category: English

I am a demolition engineer. When the safety officer reported that someone might be in the hills and the blast should be delayed, I pressed the button anyway. Dozens were killed or injured, the site painted in blood and echoing with cries and wails. While my colleagues scrambled to rescue the victims, I calmly scrolled on my phone, telling them not to rush. In my previous life, after the disaster, my childhood friend accused me of negligence. My pregnant wife wept, calling me cruel and accusing me of premeditating it all. The furious villagers beat me to death. And my childhood friend married my wife, cashed in on the insurance payout, and lived a happy life. Then, I opened my eyes and found myself back to the moment when my childhood friend handed me the papers to sign right before the blast. …… Content “Carter, sign here. I’ve checked everything; it’s all good!” That familiar voice pulled me from my daze. I hesitated, staring at the pen and the stack of papers before me. “What’s the holdup, Hobbs? Don’t worry! I’ve double-checked everything. Everyone else has already signed—just waiting on you!” I turned to see the eager smile of Lucas Kendrick, a face I’d known for nearly thirty years. My childhood friend. My subordinate. In my past life, I’d never hesitated to sign whatever Lucas handed me. My signature on these papers had pushed me into an abyss I couldn’t climb. I signed and approved the demolition, and the blast killed dozens on the mountain. The furious families beat me to death. The memory of my previous life, of being battered until my body was unrecognizable, sent a shiver down my spine. This time, I picked up the papers and began reading them thoroughly. Every line of approvals, designs, blueprints, and explosive placements seemed flawless. But why did investigators in my last life conclude that these plans had a fatal flaw that caused the catastrophe? Seeing my hesitation, Lucas chuckled. “Come on, Carter. It’s just paperwork. We’re on a tight schedule here. Don’t tell me you’re considering revising the plan now—it’s been vetted already.” There were less than thirty minutes before the scheduled blast. If the demolition didn’t proceed on time, I’d face scrutiny, the company would suffer heavy financial losses, and I’d jeopardize this hard-fought project that could save us all. In my career, I’d overseen dozens of complex demolition projects. This one was supposed to be straightforward. But the “sure thing” had spiraled into a nightmare. Lucas pulled a bottle from his bag. “Fine, take your time. Meanwhile, I’ll open this up. This is a rare vintage, Carter—aged over a decade. You’ll owe me a toast after this!” As he turned to uncork the bottle, unease prickled in my gut. His casual demeanor almost assumed I’d sign without question. Could there be nothing wrong with these documents? Before I could decide, several colleagues entered the room. They saw me holding the papers and urged me to hurry. After my signature, these documents still required the company seal and additional processing. After combing through them, finding nothing out of place, I reluctantly signed. As Lucas took the papers, his smug expression made my heart skip a beat. Could he…? But the documents needed to be more spotless. I opened my mouth to call him back, but another colleague interrupted. “Carter, it’s time for the Ceremonial Toast.”

The Ceremonial Toast was a pre-demolition ritual we always observed. While some dismissed it as superstition, it had become ingrained in our team’s culture. Everyone would drink a small cup of liquor as part of the ceremony. In my past life, I only had one drink. Yet, the police later found excessive alcohol in my system and concluded that my intoxication contributed to the disaster. This time, I held the cup to my nose. It smelled like ordinary whiskey—a good bottle with a warm, inviting aroma. With my tolerance, one cup wouldn’t even leave me buzzed. But why had the tests only flagged me? Lucas’s expression tensed when I didn’t drink. Was there something wrong with this cup? “Carter, what’s the matter? Too fancy for you? I brought out the good stuff just for today!” Lucas teased. Everyone else turned to look at me in surprise. I’d never turned down a drink, not even the cheap moonshine the crew sometimes brought. “Carter, come on—it’s one drink. I won’t mess up a thing. With your tolerance, this won’t even scratch the surface.” “This whiskey’s smooth, rich, and warm. Just try it, and you’ll want the whole bottle!” Under their eager gazes, I raised the cup and downed it. But I wasn’t done yet. There was still time before the blast. I needed to be thorough. This time, I’d ensure every detail was checked. I instructed the observers to fly the drones over the site again, ensuring no one was in the blast zone. My mind raced, focused on finding the people who’d died in my past life. Back then, I’d died waiting for answers, never knowing where the fatal error had occurred. Not this time. I returned to the Operations Command Center, reviewing the feeds from every camera. As the countdown to the blast ticked closer, sweat beaded on my forehead. Suddenly, it hit me: Could the explosives themselves be tampered with? I rushed out of the command center, heading toward the blast site. Just as I reached the exit, Vivienne appeared, clutching her stomach. “Carter! It hurts! The baby—something’s wrong! You need to take me to the hospital!” I stared at her, my mind churning. Why was she doing this to me? She was six months pregnant; soon, we’d have a child together. How could she be willing to leave that child fatherless? When I didn’t react, Vivienne snapped, “Is your job more important than our child? I’m telling you—I need help! Take me to the hospital!” In my past life, she hadn’t been in any pain. She’d stood at the scene, scolding me. But now, her sudden distress seemed suspicious. Could Lucas have seen through my hesitation and enlisted her to distract me? Vivienne wasn’t supposed to be here. She’d insisted on accompanying me, claiming she wanted to see my work before the baby came. I’d broken protocol to bring her along, trusting her. But when did Lucas and Vivienne start working together? Their desperation to sideline me could only mean one thing: there was something they didn’t want me to find.

Vivienne clutched her belly, crying out in pain. Lucas Kendrick rushed in, his face a mask of concern. “Carter, you need to take Vivi to the hospital! I’ll handle things here. Don’t worry; I’ve got it covered. Just look at her—she’s as pale as a sheet!” Lucas and I had grown up together, always having each other’s backs. It was second nature for us to help each other in any situation. Usually, I’d have considered my wife and our unborn child my top priority. But this time, knowing what lay ahead, I wasn’t about to let my life slip away in confusion again. “Lucas,” I said, fixing him with a steady gaze, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this blast. I need to stay here and oversee it. Please take Vivi to the hospital. I trust you to look after her.” Vivienne’s cries faltered for a brief moment. Lucas also froze before stammering, “Me? Take her? Carter, it’s better if you go. What if something happens to her on the way? I can’t take that kind of responsibility.” Vivienne grabbed my shirt, sobbing hysterically. “Carter Hobbs! I can’t believe you’re this kind of man. What if something happens to our baby? Can you live with that?” I frowned. “I told you before—this site is dangerous. You insisted on coming. You said you wouldn’t blame me no matter what. So why the drama now? I’ll have an assistant take you to the hospital.” I had no time to argue. I had to uncover the problem before the blast. I called for an assistant to drive Vivienne, but she clung to my clothes, refusing to let me go. Frustrated, I pulled off my jacket, left her holding it, and walked out in my T-shirt. Behind me, Vivienne wailed loudly, and Lucas sighed theatrically. “Carter, man, I’m telling you, marriage is about patience. You’ve got to show her more understanding.” I shot him a cold glare. “Funny. You’re not married yet, but you seem to know about relationships and how to handle women.” The memory of their betrayal in my past life made my fists clench involuntarily. I wanted nothing more than to punch them, but I had no proof. The countdown to the blast was already underway. Reports from the site indicated everything was in order. My mind raced as I reviewed what could have caused the accident in my previous life. Where could the critical error have occurred? I walked to the nearest blast point and ordered the safety officer to retrieve the explosives for reinspection. The officer stared at me, bewildered. “We’ve got half an hour left, Carter,” he protested. “Removing the explosives and resetting them will take forever.” Lucas put on a puzzled face. “What’s going on, Carter? You’re acting strange today.” “Follow my orders,” I barked. Reluctantly, the safety officer complied and dug up the explosives. I inspected everything meticulously. The explosives were acceptable. The placement was flawless. I moved to another location and repeated the process. Still, nothing was wrong. By the time I finished, only ten minutes were left until the scheduled detonation. What the hell is going on? I broke out in a cold sweat when the observers reported all clear. The control room buzzed in, urging me to return for final preparations. Hoarsely, I replied, “I’m requesting a delay. I believe there’s a potential danger in proceeding with the blast.”

The room fell silent. Everyone stared at me in shock. Lucas grabbed my sleeve, leaning in to whisper, “Carter, what’s wrong? We’ve gone over everything multiple times. Nothing’s out of place. If you want to delay, you must give a reason.” I met his gaze with a cold stare. Lucas had been the first to accuse me in my past life, claiming that my design was flawed. He had testified that he’d spotted issues during construction but that I had ignored his warnings, leading to the deaths of so many people. Looking back, it was clear that he had orchestrated everything. All those lives—didn’t they haunt him in his dreams? The deputy chief engineer, Harrison Greer, cleared his throat. “Carter, did you find something during your inspection?” I couldn’t respond. What could I say? That in a past life, this seemingly routine demolition had turned catastrophic? But in this life, I had no evidence. A sharp pain twisted in my gut, and I clutched my stomach. Lucas hurried to my side, offering a bottle of antacid and a glass of water. “Stomach acting up again? Here, take this. Relax, Carter. We’ve handled far more complex projects than this one. It’s a walk in the park for us veterans.” I swallowed the medication, and the warm water eased the pain slightly. Harrison spoke again. “Carter, if you’ve identified a problem, I’ll back the delay. But without a concrete reason, I can’t approve it. The schedule is tight, and if we don’t detonate today, the weather forecast will prevent us from doing it for several more days.” Lucas chimed in, trying to smooth things over. “Carter’s been under a lot of stress. Probably just sleep-deprived, right?” The countdown continued. Three minutes left. The control room was silent, all eyes on me. With one minute remaining, my phone buzzed. It was a call from the project’s upper management. The stern voice on the other end demanded to know why the detonation hadn’t started. Under the pressure of his authority, I finally relented. “The blast will proceed as scheduled.” My eyes scanned the faces of my colleagues in the control room—men and women I had trusted in my previous life. Who else among them had been part of my betrayal? When the clock hit zero, I issued the command to detonate. My finger hovered briefly over the button before pressing it. As the blast rang out in waves, I caught a flicker of satisfaction on Lucas’s face. The observers began reporting in. “Point 1, successful detonation. All clear.” “Point 2, successful detonation. All clear.” With each confirmation, my tension mounted. My heart felt like it was about to burst. Finally, after Point 6’s report, the radio fell silent. Point 7 hadn’t checked in. My gut sank. Something had gone wrong.

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During a basketball game at Westfield, I accidentally broke the Cartier watch of Chelsea White, one of the most popular, wealthy girls at school. Tyler, my boyfriend, rushed over to her, carefully cradling her wrist as he scolded me, “Harper, can’t you be more careful? Can you even afford to replace this?” Just a Cartier? Please. I have a drawer full of Vacheron Constantins and Rolexes at home, yet I’ve never seen him worry over me like this. The Student Council organized a girls’ basketball game, and during the match, my elbow collided with something hard as I fought Chelsea for the ball. I didn’t think much of it—bumps and hits are just part of the game. But she screeched, “Stop! Harper, you broke my watch!” It’s just a watch. What’s she so worked up about? The game was intense, and we were close to winning. I wasn’t about to stop over this. “Sorry, I’ll cover it, okay? Let’s just finish the game first.” But Chelsea, in all her self-righteousness, snatched the ball right out of my hands and tossed it out of bounds, forcing the game to stop. I wasn’t thrilled. She held her chin high and announced, “Harper, this is a Cartier.” I glanced at her wrist. Watches aren’t really my thing—I don’t usually wear one. I could tell it was Cartier, but I had no idea which model or its price. Definitely didn’t look vintage, so maybe a few thousand. Fixing a watch face isn’t even a big expense. Her dramatic reaction wasn’t necessary. Everyone huddled around. “Oh my God, Chelsea, what are you going to do?” “Look at that shattered face! Oh, it makes me cringe.” Seeing everyone look so worried, I asked, “Is this thing really that expensive?” Someone who clearly knew their stuff spoke up, “Of course! It’s a Ballon Bleu!” Chelsea shoved her wrist in my face. “Over four thousand dollars!” Everyone gasped. That was way off from the tens of thousands I’d imagined. For that price, getting the glass repaired shouldn’t cost more than a couple hundred at most. She grimaced. “I’ll have to send it to a Cartier store, and then they’ll ship it to Switzerland for repairs. It’ll take at least a month!” What a hassle. “Tell you what, I’ll get you a new one,” I offered. Though I doubted she’d like a Vacheron. My parents have given me watches that start at ten grand, but I don’t wear them, so they’re all just sitting at home. Might as well give her one of those. “A new one?” She looked scornful. “This isn’t some knock-off, you know! My dad brought this straight from Switzerland!” It’s not like I planned on giving her a fake. This girl was unbelievable. I’d heard her family had some money. She carried a different Louis Vuitton or Chanel bag every day and treated people to bubble tea pretty often. But my family isn’t exactly struggling. That new building on campus? My dad donated that. I asked, “So, what do you want to do about it?” My boyfriend, Tyler, had just come back with water for me and was caught up on the whole situation. He turned to me with this look of blame, “Harper, couldn’t you be more careful?!” How was I supposed to know someone would be wearing a watch while playing basketball? Doesn’t it feel uncomfortable? Doesn’t it get in the way? “Harper, look at yourself. Can you even afford this?” Tyler had never spoken to me like this before. He gently held Chelsea’s wrist as if it was something precious. It’s just a broken watch. And my elbow’s still throbbing. “All right, Chelsea, how do you want to handle this? How much is it going to cost?” She still looked mournful. “I’ll have to get it checked at the store first.” Fine. “Just send me the receipt once it’s checked, and I’ll wire you the money.” Seemed like a reasonable solution. With all this fuss, I didn’t even feel like playing anymore. Neither did anyone else; they were too busy gossiping. “Wow, how’s Harper so calm about this? That’s going to be at least a few thousand. She’ll need to skip meals for months to pay that off.” “She doesn’t even know what it’ll cost to replace the glass! She probably thinks it’s just a piece of cheap glass.” I keep a low profile at Westfield. I don’t flaunt my wealth, and though my clothes and dorm decor are nice, they’re discreet with no big logos. Most people can’t tell what brand anything is. In situations like this, I can’t just flash my bank balance and yell, “I’ve got money.” Whatever. I couldn’t care less what they thought. I grabbed my stuff and walked off the court.

Tyler caught up to me and put his arm around my shoulder. “Harper, are you upset?” It would be a lie to say I wasn’t. He hadn’t given my feelings a second thought. “Don’t be mad, okay? I did it all for you. Didn’t you notice I was giving you the ‘play along’ look?” I honestly hadn’t. “By calling you out, I was trying to get Chelsea to drop it. As long as I showed I was on her side, she wouldn’t make it worse for you.” Is that how it worked? I wasn’t convinced. “Besides, I kept stressing that you couldn’t afford it, thinking Chelsea would let it go. But you didn’t get my hint at all and offered to pay right away!” It’s just a bit of money. Our cook spends more than that on groceries. Why waste time arguing? “Look, Harper, I’ll cover half of it for you.” I waved him off. “No need.” “We’re a couple. When we get married, it’ll all be shared assets anyway. Half and half sounds about right.” He took my hand and smiled sweetly. Turns out his “planning” was really just his practical thinking for our future together. Nice to know. I leaned into him. “What are our plans for tomorrow?” Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day, and my family didn’t know I was dating anyone. My brother, Damon, who swore we two single “loners” needed to stick together, wanted to take me out. Tyler sighed, “Harper, I have to tutor tomorrow.” Oh. I had hoped he’d meet my brother. I felt a bit let down. But he looked determined. “It’s all for our future.” Tyler was always working so hard. As his girlfriend, it made sense to support him. “All right, then.”

Early Valentine’s Day, Tyler asked me to come downstairs. He was holding a bouquet of red roses and a beautifully wrapped gift bag. The moment he saw me, he gave me a big hug. “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe. I can’t stay long, but we had to keep the tradition going, right?” I thought I wouldn’t get to see him, but he’d clearly prepared a gift in advance. We chatted briefly, and he left. I happily went back to my dorm and opened the gift. It was a YSL gift set. My roommates gasped. “Wow, Harper, your boyfriend really spoils you!” “He must’ve spent a lot. No wonder he’s been so busy. He’s been working extra to afford this!” Tyler had given me what he thought was his very best. I was pleased. Jessie, my roommate and a beauty blogger, gave the box a long look but stayed quiet. She had a sharp eye for quality, so when she didn’t react, the other two hesitated to keep praising. “Jessie, is there something wrong?” I asked. She picked up the lipstick, examining it with a hint of reluctance. “I’m not completely sure. Let me check with a friend.” My heart sank. I’d never thought much about fake products or the difference between genuine and counterfeit. But if Jessie had doubts, there was a strong chance it was a fake. Out of consideration, she offered to double-check with someone. My other roommate consoled me, “Harper, maybe Tyler doesn’t know about luxury brands and got scammed.” “Yeah, straight guys can’t tell the difference between real and fake products.” They had a point. I messaged Tyler, “Where did you buy this gift set?” A few minutes later, he replied, “From the official store.” He even attached a screenshot of the purchase record. Could fake items show up in an official store? Or maybe Jessie was wrong this time? Tyler: “Is something wrong, babe? Don’t you like it?” Me: “No, it’s great. Thank you.” Tyler: “As long as you’re happy. I have to go tutor now, but let’s talk later, okay?” Damon took me to Lakeside Amusement Park, but my thoughts were elsewhere. Then, Jessie sent me another message, “It’s fake.” She shared some comparison photos of real and fake products. “Tyler probably bought it from an off-brand store.” She even sent a link to a $100 YSL gift set that matched mine exactly. “If he told you the truth, maybe he really thought YSL was that cheap. But if he’s lying, you should think twice about staying with him.” I was at a loss for words. I asked her, “Could the official store sell fakes?” “No way. This set is so obviously fake. If an official store ever sold counterfeit goods, they’d at least make it harder to spot.” But Tyler really did have a screenshot from the official store. I sent it to Jessie. She replied, “What if the official store gift wasn’t meant for you?” Good point. What if Tyler bought one from an off-brand store and one from the official store, one for me and one for someone else? That would explain it. But no—Tyler would never do something so low, right? We’d been together for over a year. We were solid. He’d never betray me like that. But just then, I spotted a familiar figure in the crowd. It looked like Tyler. Wasn’t he supposed to be tutoring? What was he doing here?

I was about to go after him when Damon returned with an ice cream cone. “What’s up?” he asked, noticing my expression. “I thought I saw a friend.” But in the blink of an eye, that familiar figure vanished. I licked my ice cream, then texted Tyler: “Where are you?” It took him half an hour to reply: “I’m tutoring.” Almost as if to prove it, he sent a picture of a kid bent over their homework. “Miss me already? I’ll come find you when I’m done, okay?” Once a seed of doubt is planted, it takes root quickly. I wanted to video call him right then. But with Damon next to me, I held off. After turning down yet another girl who asked for his number, Damon finally turned to me. “You don’t seem too happy, Harper.” “Mhm.” “No Valentine’s gift?” he guessed. I shook my head. Damon didn’t care what I was thinking, though, and snapped his fingers. Out of nowhere, a whole bunch of guys dressed like wannabe “princes” surrounded me. “Pick one, or a few, and they’ll keep you entertained.” This was classic Damon—wild and unpredictable. I mean, how was I supposed to handle ten of them? “Hey, Damon, I…” He gasped in mock surprise, “What?! You want all of them?” “When did I say that?!” He shrugged. “Fine, fine, only kids choose. We’ll take them all!” I rolled my eyes. “Let’s just go grab dinner, Damon,” I said, trying to keep my irritation in check. The guys he brought in were attractive, sure, but I had a boyfriend. It didn’t feel right. That was, until Jessie texted me again. Jessie: “Harper, aren’t you with Tyler today?” Me: “Nope. He’s tutoring. I’m out with Damon.” But then she sent me a photo. It was Tyler and Chelsea at the claw machine in the same amusement park. The amusement park we were currently in. And this place isn’t cheap—at most places, tokens are a dollar each, but here, they’re ten. Every round at the machine costs twenty. Chelsea’s arms were full of stuffed animals. Knowing Tyler’s skills, it’d probably taken him at least ten tries to win each one. So he’s spending hundreds on claw machines for Chelsea, while he bought me a $100 knock-off YSL gift set? Jessie: “Do you want me to keep an eye on them? I can stay back.” Me: “Don’t worry about it, Jessie. I’ll handle it myself.” I’d had enough. I called Tyler, and after four unanswered calls, he finally picked up on the fifth. “Harper, what are you doing? I’m tutoring, and the kid’s parents are sitting right here!” he said, sounding irritated. I took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. “Video call me.” “I’m busy, Harper. Do you know how tiring tutoring is? Can you please not be so unreasonable?” His frustration was obvious. He wasn’t even trying to hide his irritation anymore. “So, am I the one being unreasonable, or are you feeling guilty about something?” I asked, my voice cool. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m working hard for our future, and here you are questioning me?” Our future? His idea of a future meant cozying up to a wealthy girl like Chelsea? Not on my watch. I hung up, sending him the link to the off-brand gift set and the photo of him with Chelsea. I left one final message: “We’re done.” And then I blocked him across the board. How long had this been going on with Chelsea? And that YSL set—the real one was for her, wasn’t it? Chelsea, the so-called high-and-mighty rich girl who claims she hates secondhand and vintage. Isn’t it funny that she’d go for someone else’s boyfriend?

After dinner, Damon drove me back to campus. I’d barely made it a few steps when a bank notification came through. It was a transfer of fifty grand from Damon. Damon: “Sis, just a little spending money—retail therapy makes everything better, right?” I was still grinning at my phone when I heard a loud shout behind me. “Harper! Never thought you’d turn out to be such a gold digger!” It was Tyler. My smile vanished as I turned around, expression already set. I tried to walk away, but he grabbed my arm, refusing to let go. “I saw you getting out of that Maybach! Who the hell were you with today?” Was he seriously pulling this? Fine. He wanted a confrontation? I’d give him one. “You never went to tutor anyone today, did you?” He let out a slow breath. “No, I was with Chelsea. I figured if I made her happy, she’d let the whole watch thing slide.” I couldn’t believe this excuse. Did he really expect me to believe he was doing this “for me”? And on Valentine’s Day, of all days? Softening his tone, he tried again, “Harper, I did it for you.” I let out a laugh, cold and sharp. “For me? Did I ask you to pay her back for that watch? Did I ask you to waste money at the amusement park with her? Or to get her a bunch of claw machine toys?” He froze, speechless for a moment. I continued, “Tyler, the next time you try to pass the blame, do me a favor—find a better excuse.” I took a step back, putting space between us. But he reached for my hand, gazing at me like he thought he could sweet-talk his way out of this. “Harper, I care about you.” Now, I felt nothing but disgust. “I just…look, I’ll be a senior soon. And I need to start getting serious about finding a good internship.” Right. And Chelsea’s family ran a business. I understood exactly what he was getting at. “Oh, Harper, you know what they say: a relationship without financial stability is just like sand—it blows away with the first breeze. I’m only trying to build a better life for us.” I almost burst out laughing. Tyler Young, quoting The Big Dream like he thought he’d get brownie points for it. “Cut the crap, Tyler. Just admit you’re after the easy route. Using ‘a better life’ as your excuse is nothing but a smokescreen to hide your own insecurity and selfishness.” “Us? No way. You can keep your knock-off Valentine’s Day gift set. I’ll give it back tomorrow,” I said. “My parents gave me enough real things—I don’t need some dollar-store mascara. I mean, the cheap junk might just give me a rash.” “I showed you the receipt! Who told you it was a knock-off, anyway? That ‘influencer’ roommate of yours? She’s just jealous!” His voice was rising, his face twisting with anger in a way I’d never seen before. You know the saying: “The louder the voice, the weaker the argument”? That was him, in a nutshell. Tyler assumed I couldn’t tell the difference between real and fake brands, and that I’d just believe whatever he said. As if Jessie would be jealous over a fake $100 set. She received PR packages from brands all the time. What would she need to envy? “The real set—the one you bought at the flagship store—you gave it to Chelsea, right? Buying knock-offs and passing them off as high-end? That’s some impressive penny-pinching.” Tyler finally snapped. “Once you give a gift, there’s no taking it back!” I smirked. “Oh, perfect. Then I’ll toss it in the trash.” “Transfer me back the $138!” Was he serious? Sure, it was a hundred bucks, something I’d normally never think twice about. But this wasn’t about the money—it was about not putting up with his nonsense. I scoffed, “Wait—did you forget to buy shipping insurance on it?” He froze. Of course, he had. “Tell you what—I’ll let Jessie return it tomorrow. I’m not sending you a dime.” He pointed a finger in my face, furious. “Harper, you’re just a greedy, materialistic user! Cheap and pathetic!” Oh, so he wasn’t broke—he just thought I wasn’t worth spending anything decent on. I looked down at myself. A custom bag worth over $30K, a pair of shoes that ran close to nine…my outfit alone could cover a down payment on a house in some cities. And he thought I wasn’t “worth it”? “You couldn’t even shine Chelsea’s shoes!” he spat, and for a second, my throat went tight with tears. This was how he really saw me—as a discount option. Staying there any longer, I’d only embarrass myself. I turned and walked away. But even as I tried to leave, he wouldn’t stop. “Harper! Nobody else will treat you like I did! Everyone else just wants to mess around with you! You think you’ll find someone who actually cares?” “Forget ever seeing me again! Chelsea’s already agreed to be with me! You’ll come crying back, just watch!” I sped up, mortified. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be shouting. I might be embarrassed, but not as much as he should have been.

Heartbreak? That’s what shopping sprees are for. Damon really got it—retail therapy was the cure. Afterward, I headed back to the dorms, arms full of bags, and handed out gifts to my roommates. Jessie was holding a brand-new Dior bag, eyes wide. “Harper, where did you hit the jackpot?” I just smiled and kept quiet. Jessie was seriously loyal. The second she heard about Tyler’s betrayal, she made a video about it, telling her followers every ridiculous detail. She left out the names but let her followers know she was a student at Westfield. Now, everyone was trying to piece together who this cheapskate was. Someone even brought it up on the Westfield Confessions Board. Tyler better lay low for a while, or someone would inevitably connect the dots. On Friday afternoon, I headed over to the student council meeting. As I reached the door, I heard voices already chatting inside. “Wonder how she got so much money to buy all those bags—her ex Tyler says she’s been playing both sides. She’s got a rich guy giving her gifts but won’t let go of ‘ol Tyler the up-and-coming success story either.” Only Tyler would say something like that. Referring to himself as a “rising star,” what a joke. “Even if she is getting bags from some rich dude, she wouldn’t flaunt it so obviously, right? I bet that bag’s fake…” “Yeah, exactly! She said she’d buy Chelsea a new watch after breaking her old one. That was a Cartier, not a cheap knock-off!” I was enjoying listening in when someone suddenly tapped my shoulder. Before I could react, they covered my mouth to stifle my yelp. I turned around—it was Logan, the student council president. He motioned for me to stay quiet, letting go of my mouth before standing by the door to eavesdrop with me. Wasn’t Logan usually all business and aloof? I never expected him to join me in something like this. The conversation inside didn’t seem to be going anywhere, though, and after a few minutes, Logan leaned in and whispered, “Had enough?” I nodded. He gestured for me to step aside, then pushed the door open and strode in. The room fell silent immediately. I waited a moment before following him inside. Chelsea’s friends, who shared her department, looked me up and down. I casually placed my brand-new Hermès bag on the table right next to Chelsea’s LV, making a clear statement. This wasn’t about competing; it was about cutting Chelsea down a peg. She couldn’t handle it. “Harper, can I see your bag?” she asked, forcing a smile. “Go ahead.” She inspected it thoroughly, practically needing a magnifying glass for every detail. Finally, she looked up and asked, “Where’d you get it? The details look surprisingly realistic.” The not-so-subtle implication was clear. “Oh, it’s authentic,” I replied, sipping my bubble tea. “I picked it up at the mall. But you—usually carrying LV and Chanel—how come you know so much about Hermès?” Who says I couldn’t throw some shade? Chelsea’s bags were all entry-level. The idea she could spot a fake Hermès was laughable. Her face turned red as she stammered, “My mom’s a big fan of Hermès.” “Oh, then it’s your mom who’d know what’s real—not you, right?” Her expression darkened. Seeing her at a loss for words, her friends jumped in to back her up. “If you can afford Hermès, Harper, why haven’t you paid Chelsea back for her watch? It’s been fixed for weeks. Are you hoping she’ll just forget about it?” “Yeah, Harper, don’t be generous with yourself and stingy with others.” Chelsea had never shown me the receipt for that repair. And right then, it all clicked. She wasn’t upset about the watch or looking to be reimbursed. She wanted to humiliate me. Who plays basketball wearing a pricey watch, anyway? She’d set the whole thing up to make me look bad. The thing is, I wasn’t the “broke student” she imagined. I could pay. “What’s the cost, Chelsea? I’ll send it over now,” I said, pulling out my phone. With a smug expression, she tilted her head. “$7431. But I’ll knock off a few bucks—just make it an even $7400.” I wasn’t about to let her act like she was doing me a favor. I intended to pay down to the last penny. But just as I began typing in my password, a hand covered my phone screen. “That won’t be necessary.”

Logan, who’d been busy setting up the projector, was now beside me. “According to the US Civil Code, Section 1176, anyone who participates in an activity with inherent risks isn’t entitled to claim damages for accidents caused by others during that activity,” he said calmly. “Unless there was intent or gross negligence involved, that is.” He continued, “A cracked watch face doesn’t amount to ‘gross negligence,’ and Harper had no intention of causing damage.” His voice was clear, each word sharp and precise. I was floored. This was a solution I’d never considered. Logan had been away at a competition the day of the game—how did he know so much about it? Chelsea hadn’t expected Logan to interject, and despite her nerves, she put up a front. “You weren’t even there! How would you know she didn’t do it on purpose?” she blurted. Logan didn’t so much as flinch. If anything, he looked amused. “Several New Media staff members were at the game, and some of them recorded it on video.” He held up a USB. “I’ve already downloaded the footage. If you’d like, I can play it for everyone.” Chelsea’s face turned ghostly pale. Logan didn’t hold back, adding, “If anyone acted on purpose, it would’ve been you, Chelsea, angling to bump into Harper.” The student council president wasn’t just logical—he was relentless. He finished with one last comment: “Before you try pulling stunts like this, Chelsea, you might want to brush up on the law.” The entire room erupted in whispers. “She really thought Harper would be an easy mark!” “I mean, Chelsea’s got money. Would she really do all this over a few thousand?” “Oh, come on—haven’t you heard? Tyler, Harper’s ex? He’s been hanging around Chelsea non-stop…” That hit the nail on the head. “People are saying that viral post about the world’s stingiest boyfriend? They think it’s Tyler! I mean, who does that? Buying legit gifts for the side chick and scamming his girlfriend with fakes? Guy’s a piece of work.” “I saw Jessie’s video about it too. I couldn’t stop laughing—he really thinks people are that dumb? He probably thought a knock-off would pass as the real deal!” “Those two can just stay together. Please, don’t let them drag anyone else down!” Chelsea’s face turned a dark shade of red. Her glare was cold enough to freeze a room, aimed straight at me like I was her sworn enemy. I simply looked back, unfazed. Finally, she muttered something about feeling unwell and bolted out of the room. Once she’d left, Logan turned to me, smiling faintly. “Doesn’t the air seem a bit fresher now?” I flashed him a thumbs-up.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294936”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #擦边Steamy #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School

“Honey, the baby and I are heading out,” I called, standing at the door with the stroller. I took one last look at my husband, sprawled on the couch watching a football game. Silently, I bid him farewell in my heart: Oh, darling, may you rest in peace. Chapter 1 “Honey, Xixi and I are heading out,” I called, pushing the stroller towards the door. I took one last look at Yannick sprawled on the couch watching the game. Silently, I bid him farewell in my heart: Goodbye, dear husband. Have a nice trip to hell. Back at work after maternity leave, I was missing my baby girl terribly. Unable to wait until the end of the day, I made an excuse to my manager and headed home early. As I approached our apartment door, I heard voices inside. “Don’t worry, she won’t be back for at least another two hours,” a man said. It was my husband, Yannick. “Hmph, who was it that spent half an hour putting your precious daughter to sleep last night, neglecting me?” a woman replied coyly. My mind went blank. I heard Yannick patiently coaxing her: “Once she’s dead, my daughter will be your daughter too. The baby’s too young to know any better – whoever feeds her is her mom.” Soon, unmistakable sounds of intimacy reached my ears. I stood frozen, realizing with horror that my husband was cheating on me. Yannick and I were high school sweethearts. We went from school uniforms to wedding gowns. After three years of marriage, life had settled into a quiet routine. Earlier this year, he quit his programming job to open a small shop, saying he wanted to help care for our daughter after she was born. He didn’t want me to be a “widow with a child” – raising our baby alone while he worked long hours. I was moved to tears at the time. Business at the shop was decent, and Yannick hired an assistant. During my pregnancy, he doted on me endlessly. Just last night, we were planning to move out of this apartment building next month. We had already finished renovating our new house and the formaldehyde smell had dissipated. I was full of hope for our future together. I never imagined reality would hit me like a ton of bricks. It was a scorching August afternoon, the sun merciless at 3pm. I don’t know how long I stood there before I saw a tall woman with wavy hair walk out of the building. I hid behind a car, catching my reflection in the window – my postpartum body looked swollen and out of shape. There was a time when I too was slim and took pride in my appearance. Yannick had weak sperm. He said he didn’t care if we had a boy or girl, as long as we had a child of our own. Otherwise his life would be meaningless. For that, I endured hundreds of hormone injections before we finally conceived our daughter. It was nearly 6pm when I returned home with groceries. Hearing me, Yannick shuffled out in his slippers. “You’re back, honey. I made some mung bean soup – it’s in the fridge. Want some?” “Sure, pour me a bowl,” I replied casually as I changed my shoes. But my mind was reeling from what I’d overheard earlier: “Once she’s dead.” Yannick wanted to kill me. Not only was he cheating, he wanted me dead. Perhaps the shock had numbed me, but I felt eerily calm. At dinner, Yannick mentioned his mom wanted to come help with the baby, since I was back at work and he was busy with the shop. I thought for a moment and asked, “But we only have one bed. Where would your mom sleep? Why don’t we just move to the new house in the next couple days?” To my surprise, Yannick fell silent. “I can sleep on the couch. It’s fine for summer. You two can take the bed.” I nodded. “Alright, it’ll be nice to have your mom’s help.” I’d found it strange before – our new house had been ready for a while, but Yannick kept putting off moving in. Now I understood. He was planning to move in with his mistress after getting rid of me. After cleaning up, I put Xixi to sleep. Yannick pulled out an insurance policy for me to sign. He’d first brought up insurance when I got pregnant, saying we needed to plan ahead now that we were parents. An accidental death policy would provide security for our child. So his policy and mine both listed our daughter as the sole beneficiary. It sounded perfectly reasonable. “The accidental death benefit is $100,000?” I asked, looking at the payout amount on the policy while secretly clenching my fist.

Just then, our neighbor Mrs. Wilson dropped off some peaches. She said a friend had given her a whole crate and she couldn’t eat them all. “What are you two up to?” Mrs. Wilson adjusted her reading glasses, her gaze falling on the insurance papers on the coffee table. Yannick explained, “Oh, Chloe and I are thinking of getting some accident insurance.” “Look, it says here it pays out $100,000. Is that for real?” I asked in a deliberately naive tone. “Yannick compared several insurance companies and says we should buy now before the prices go up. He’s been pestering me to sign.” Mrs. Wilson’s interest was piqued. “Oh my, insurance is painful to pay for but really comes through when you need it. My husband was diagnosed with lung cancer recently and the critical illness policy our son bought paid out $30,000!” Yannick gave me a “see, I told you so” look. “I don’t know much about insurance. He says it’ll give us peace of mind,” I shrugged. “Maybe we should think about it some more.” Mrs. Wilson agreed with me: “Accident insurance isn’t the same as health insurance. In life, you’re much more likely to get sick than have an accident.” Mrs. Wilson didn’t notice, but Yannick’s expression froze for a few seconds when she said that. “Insurance is all about protection. You never know if tomorrow or an accident will come first,” Yannick joked. “If I die, at least I can leave some money for you and Xixi.” I punched his arm. “Don’t say things like that.” “Tsk tsk, you shouldn’t joke about such things,” Mrs. Wilson waved her hand. She chatted with us a bit more before leaving. Before bed, I went to the bathroom to wash up. “Bzzt bzzt” – A faint noise came from the water heater. This water heater was quite old. We’d bought it used from the previous tenants when we moved in. Last year we’d talked about replacing it with a new one, but since we were planning to move to the new house soon, we’d been making do with it. I stood there holding my toothbrush cup, staring at the old water heater lost in thought. Back in bed, Yannick was still on his phone. When he saw me come in, he quickly flipped the screen face down on the sheets. There was a baby monitor on the bedside table so I could check on Xixi while at work. “Honey, do you really want to buy that accident insurance?” I asked, raising my voice slightly. Hearing me say that, Yannick suddenly rolled over. “That insurance is really good, let me tell you…” He launched into a long analysis of the benefits. I yawned. “Alright, it’s too late now. Let’s sign tomorrow.” “Okay!” In the dim light, I saw Yannick’s eyes gleaming with excitement. The next morning, I went downstairs and was about to ride my electric scooter to work when Yannick rushed out holding the insurance papers, urging me to sign. Just then, Mrs. Wilson and some other neighbors were returning from the morning market. Seeing us, they asked, “What’s Yannick holding there? He looks in such a hurry.” “It’s that insurance from last night. He wants me to sign it,” I said as I wrote my name ‘Chloe Sharp’. I smiled at the neighbors, “What can I do? He makes the big decisions in our family. Gotta run, I’m going to be late for work!” I rode off on my scooter. In the rearview mirror, I saw Yannick holding up the signed paper and kissing it, his whole demeanor radiating joy. At work, I sent Yannick a text: Honey, the water heater at home seems broken. Can you take a look? Ten minutes later Yannick replied: OK, got it. The perfunctory response was expected. He was probably daydreaming about moving into a big house with his new wife after getting the huge insurance payout. How could he be bothered about a water heater we’d used for 7-8 years? I typed into the search bar: “What causes a water heater to explode?” After browsing the results, I deleted all my search history.

At 5:30pm, the new intern Yonng noticed I hadn’t moved and asked with a smile, “Chloe, aren’t you in a hurry to get home to your little sweetheart today?” “My husband’s looking after her,” I said, waving my phone which showed the bedroom camera feed. Yannick was bent over the crib, playing with Xixi. “I’m going to stay late and finish the monthly report.” “Ugh, you’re making us single people jealous again!” Yonng said enviously. “I need to find a husband who’s willing to look after kids too!” I smiled without responding. From now on, I wanted everyone around me to think Yannick and I were blissfully in love. After finishing the report, I was about to leave when Sam from IT walked over and whispered, “Just a heads up – don’t use the company computers for personal stuff these days.” “Why not?” I asked. “Well, with the company’s performance down last quarter, management’s cracking down on discipline. They’ve got us monitoring the backend to see if anyone’s browsing shopping sites or celebrity gossip during work hours…” Sam shook his head helplessly. Then he seemed to remember something and asked, “By the way, what’s wrong with your water heater? I saw you searched about it quite a bit.” I froze, my whole body tensing up. Then I realized – why should I be nervous? I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was just concerned about potential safety hazards with our home appliances, that’s all. “Oh, I came across some videos of water heaters exploding. It was pretty scary. And our water heater at home is pretty old too,” I said casually. “Water heaters should be replaced after about 8 years, right?” Sam said. His phone rang and he turned away to answer it. I clenched my slightly trembling fingers and left with my bag. It was almost 8pm by the time I got home. Yannick was humming a tune and taking photos of Xixi curled up on the sofa with a camera. When he saw me come in, a flash of unease crossed his face. “Did you buy that?” I asked, pointing at the new outfit Xixi was wearing. “Yeah, just got it delivered today,” he said, putting down the camera. “Are you hungry? Want to go eat at the restaurant downstairs?” “When did you buy a camera? You never mentioned it,” I walked over to the sofa and picked up the camera, flipping through the photos. I noticed Yannick’s composition was really professional, even better than the professional photographer we hired for Xixi’s one-month photos. Yannick’s expression turned hesitant. “I… I was afraid you’d say I was wasting money… But babies change so much every day, I wanted to document her growth.” “You could have discussed it with me. Just don’t keep secrets,” I said, still scrolling through the photos. Suddenly Yannick snatched the camera away. He had me sit on the sofa and started massaging my shoulders. “Honey, you’ve had a long day at work. Don’t get upset over little things like this. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the camera, okay?” I looked at the man in front of me. “I never knew you were so good at photography.” “I just learned recently. It’s not that hard,” Yannick said, picking up the camera again. “Honey, strike a pose. Let me take a few shots of you.” Just then, Xixi suddenly started crying. I quickly went to pick her up. “Go take out the trash,” I told Yannick. “And pick up two takeout meals on the way back.” “Okay,” Yannick was about to grab his phone. “Leave it charging,” I said, pulling some cash out of my pocket. “Here’s some money. Might as well use it up.” Yannick took the money without hesitation and left with the trash bag. I watched from the window until he exited the complex, then immediately grabbed Yannick’s phone and unlocked it. The password was Xixi’s birthday. Out of trust, I had never checked Yannick’s phone before. This was the first time. He was so confident leaving his phone at home, certain that I would never invade his privacy. I opened WeChat and saw several new messages from a contact named “AAA Alina – Bloom Kidswear”.

The latest one said: “Hiking is the easiest way to create an accident. There’s no one in the mountains…” I couldn’t see the rest of the message since Yannick hadn’t opened it yet. I couldn’t click in to view the full chat history, but I could guess what it was about. The insurance policy was just signed, and they were already itching to put their plan into action. I put the phone back and picked up the camera to continue looking through the photos I’d been viewing earlier. I noticed several shots of Xixi wearing a thick baby sleeping bag. From the camera angle, it seemed the focus wasn’t on Xixi, but on the clothes themselves. Babies actually have a higher body temperature than adults. In several photos, Xixi’s hair was damp with sweat. Anger boiled inside me. Just then, Yannick returned. “Why did you take these? It’s 30-40 degrees out – what if she overheats?” I demanded, holding up the camera. Yannick froze for several seconds before walking over to explain: “The seller said they’d send another sleeping bag for free if I posted photos. Don’t worry honey, I had the AC on when I took the pictures.” I stared straight into his eyes. “You made our daughter sweat buckets just for a free piece of clothing?” Yannick’s anger flared. “What the hell, Chloe? What are you implying? She’s my own daughter – you think I’d abuse her?” “Why are you getting so defensive? Did I say you were abusing her?” I shoved the camera in his face, raising my voice. Yannick knocked the camera out of my hand and stormed out. SLAM! The door slammed shut. I closed my eyes and comforted Xixi, who was startled by the noise. Yannick didn’t return until almost midnight. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’m sorry honey. I shouldn’t have lost my temper at you.” I didn’t respond. Soon, he spoke again: “Let’s go hiking in a few days. Once my mom gets here, she can watch Xixi. It’s been so long since we’ve had time to ourselves.” Yannick’s tone was almost pleading, reminiscent of when we first started dating. Indeed, you can never truly know what’s in a person’s heart. Even with years of shared history, it’s impossible to see through someone’s facade to their true nature. When a man falls out of love, he can turn into a demon, wearing a mask of false kindness as he plots to take your life. “Hiking?” I feigned confusion. “I thought you didn’t like hiking.” “That was before. What programmer likes hiking? We’re exhausted enough as it is,” Yannick said wistfully. “But now that I run my own little business, I can manage my own time. It’s good to get out and exercise.” Yannick continued, “I looked it up – there’s a mountain nearby that doesn’t get many tourists. The scenery hasn’t been modernized, and it’s far from the city center. People online say the air there is amazing!” I listened silently. “You’ve really done your research.” “Of course! I upset my dear wife, so I have to make it up to her,” Yannick hugged me tight. “We can buy a tent and go camping outdoors, just like in college. We’ll stargaze and watch the sunrise. It’ll be wonderful. What do you say, honey?” “Get off, it’s too hot,” I pushed him away. “Let’s decide after your mom gets here. I’m worried she won’t be able to handle Xixi on her own.” Yannick said confidently, “As long as you want to go, my mom won’t be a problem!” I stared silently at the ceiling, inwardly scoffing. He sure was eager to get rid of me. At 2am, after feeding Xixi, I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. I turned on the shower. The water rushed loudly, and the old water heater emitted a low hum. Water heater explosions are probabilistic – there’s no way to guarantee an accident will happen at a specific time. Although our unit had reached its maximum lifespan, that didn’t mean it would definitely explode. But if the thermostat, overheat protection, and pressure relief valve were all damaged, who knows what could happen. I tested the water temperature with my fingertips, lost in thought.

Yannick’s mother arrived a few days later, laden with bags and a basket of farm-fresh eggs. “Look at you, just standing there,” she said to me with a smirk, then jokingly scolded Yannick: “She’s a mother now but still doesn’t know how to be helpful around the house.” I took the woven bag from her hands. “Mom, you must be tired from traveling all day. Don’t get upset over little things – it’s bad for your health.” My mother-in-law sat on the sofa with a smile. “My health is just fine. Don’t jinx me!” I was at a loss for words. My mother-in-law always had a smile on her face when she spoke, but her tone was cutting. She always left me feeling stung, not knowing how to respond. She had never approved of me, thinking her son who worked at a prestigious tech company could find a woman with better prospects. Yannick brought his mother a glass of water. “Mom, Chloe and I are planning to go hiking this weekend. Can you look after Xixi for a couple days?” “Fine, fine,” she muttered. “It’s so hot out. You two must be bored out of your minds.” That evening after dinner, Yannick insisted on taking me shopping for camping gear. He seemed unusually excited. “We’re leaving in three days! We haven’t been on a trip together since you got pregnant. I can’t wait! Are you excited too, honey?” “Me? Well…” Last night I had adjusted the water heater temperature to 50°C, but when I used it today the actual water temperature was much higher. As I suspected, the thermostat was broken. No wonder the water had been so scalding hot lately. The overheat protection had clearly failed too, causing it to keep heating continuously. Looking into Yannick’s eyes, I smiled and nodded. “I’m looking forward to it too.” When we got home, Yannick’s mom and Xixi were already asleep. The next day Yannick went to mind the shop. I dressed Xixi and started eating breakfast. “Let’s put this in the living room. I can’t sleep well with it watching me,” my mother-in-law said, moving the baby monitor that was originally on the bedroom nightstand to a shelf behind the TV. She muttered, “What a waste of money, buying useless gadgets.” “Mm, okay,” I had barely finished speaking when there was a knock at the door. It was Mr. Lee, the repairman I’d called to check our appliances. “You must be Mr. Lee,” I said, stepping aside to let him in. I led him to the cramped bathroom. “Our water heater’s been making strange noises lately and the temperature is unstable. Can you take a look and see what’s wrong?” Mr. Lee looked up at the wall-mounted unit. “How long have you had it?” “Almost 8 years,” I said.

“Daisy, mommy’s going to the restroom. You stay right here and wait for me, okay?” I looked at the young Janine Brooks, barely in her twenties, and felt a moment of confusion. Seeing me remain silent, she let out an awkward laugh. “My little Daisy isn’t much of a talker,” she explained to the people around us before disappearing into the crowd. It all came rushing back to me. She didn’t dare sell me outright, so she found an excuse to leave me here. In reality, she was calling the traffickers. In my previous life, I didn’t know this. I believed she had really gone to the restroom and waited obediently like a fool. Soon after, a woman dressed similarly to her came and took me away. I was terrified and cried desperately, but the woman insisted that I was just throwing a tantrum after waiting too long. No one around us thought anything was strange. That’s how I ended up shoved into a car, taken to the traffickers’ hideout. They blinded me and threw me onto the streets to beg. At the time, I truly believed it was just bad luck. I kept hoping she would come back to save me. I waited for five years. During the freezing winter, I knelt in the snow with thin clothes, my hands and feet blistered from the cold. The summer was worse. Sweat would trickle into my open wounds, the sharp sting making me cry out in pain. That’s when I realized that crying could make people feel sorry for me. A little blind girl, as skinny as a stick, crying nonstop — it tugged at people’s hearts. I became good at it, and the money I begged for gradually increased. Slowly, I was able to eat, and the beatings went from daily to every three days. But the darkness around me wasn’t just physical. It consumed my entire life. I had nothing left to hope for. My entire being became numb, like the walking dead. I got very sick, a sickness that went deep into my bones. When the traffickers were about to sell me to a gang in rural Mexico, a group of police officers stormed in. That’s when I found out that the little boy who had been following me around, limping, was Ryan Pierce, the youngest son of the Pierce family. For five years, Michael and Linda Pierce never gave up looking for him, and they took down a number of human trafficking rings in the process. This time, they finally found Ryan — and they saved me too. Ryan told them that without me, he wouldn’t have survived. To thank me, Michael Pierce gave me the name Ellie Pierce and adopted me. Ellie, like the first light of dawn. Linda Pierce felt sorry for me and hired the world’s best doctors to perform surgery, restoring my sight. But Ryan’s leg could never be fixed. I snapped back to reality and glanced at the clock hanging in the mall, breaking out in a cold sweat. Five minutes had passed. The traffickers Janine Brooks contacted would be here any moment! I turned and ran. This time, I would never fall into their hands again! “Hey? Where are you going? Didn’t your mom tell you to wait for her?” People around me tried to stop me. But I knew if I didn’t run, I’d be doomed to the same tragic fate as before. I had forgotten, though — I was only four years old! My legs were short, and my stamina was weak. A man easily grabbed me. “Daisy, where do you think you’re going?” My scalp tingled with fear. That voice — it was the same man who had blinded me! I wanted to scream for help, but my throat felt like it was blocked. Years of terror made me instinctively start trembling. Tears rolled down my cheeks in big, silent drops. The man smiled and pulled me into his arms. “Daddy’s here, Daisy. Be good, don’t cry.” He sounded like a kind, loving father. No one around us doubted his words. Because I had run, the woman from my previous life didn’t show up. Instead, they sent a man, stronger and more determined. They were sure they would get me this time. Was I really out of options? Would I have to live through that nightmare again? Despair engulfed me, making me cry even harder. Suddenly, I spotted the newly opened KFC in the mall. I forced myself to stop crying and yelled out, “Daddy! I want French fries!” The man hesitated for a moment, clearly not expecting me to call him ‘daddy.’ His brow furrowed, and he started walking faster. When he ignored me, I screamed even louder. “I want French fries! Bad daddy! You bought some for my brother, but not for me!” “I have my own money! Let me go, I’ll buy them myself!” I started thrashing, reaching out to pull a nearby woman’s hair. “Auntie! Buy me some fries! I’ve got money! My dad is being unfair!” The woman yelped in pain. “Let go of me!” She glared at the man. “What kind of father are you? It’s just fries. How could you deny your own daughter something so small?” She tried to pry my hands out of her hair. The man got angry. “Mind your own business!” He yanked me up, squeezing my waist hard. His other hand reached for my flailing arm. I screamed, let go of the woman, and clung to the man’s head, blocking his face with my body as I thrashed around. “If you don’t give me fries, we’ll die together!” The fries were just an excuse. What I really wanted was to end it all with him. I’d rather die than live through that endless darkness again! Fueled by sheer willpower, I found strength beyond my small body. I yanked his hair, pinched his ears, and covered his nose. “Why can my brother have KFC, but not me? I haven’t eaten in two days!” The man stumbled, struggling to keep his balance. “You little brat, let go of me!” I cried even harder, grabbing his head with both hands. “Daddy doesn’t love me!” A crowd had gathered, all pointing at the man. “How can people still act like this in this day and age?” “This isn’t just favoring boys over girls, this is abuse!” The man was enraged and in pain. As he finally began to fall, he reached out to grab me. “You little—” I screamed and thrashed, “Daddy, don’t kill me!” I kicked him hard in the eyes. “My eyes!” he yelled. I almost laughed. How much damage could a four-year-old really do? Unfortunately, I couldn’t blind him for real. But I kept up my terrified act, scrambling away. Finally, some bystanders intervened, holding back the furious man. “It’s just a kid, and all she did was kick you! No need to go overboard!” “Yeah, don’t take your anger out on a child. Your eyes aren’t even injured.” “Relax, this mall is super safe. No one’s getting kidnapped here.” I zigzagged through the crowd and hid in a small storage room. The painful memories of my previous life flooded back. No. I wouldn’t go through that again. I still had to save Ryan, and my adoptive parents. Back then, when I was thrown into that van, there were already several other children inside. One of them was Ryan, and his legs were still intact. By the time we were brought back to the hideout that night, there were over ten of us, and none left unharmed.

At the time, I fought desperately, but it was useless. A sharp pain hit me, and my eyes closed. I passed out. When I woke up, a small child was leaning against my back. When I moved, he woke up and started crying softly. I was used to soothing my baby brother, so I instinctively patted his back and asked, “Baby, are you hungry?” The baby was Lucas Brooks, my little brother. He was the family’s treasure, while I was the extra baggage. Whenever he cried, I got scared. If I didn’t calm him down quickly, I would get beaten for no reason. But this child was easier to soothe than my brother. He immediately stopped crying and touched my eyelids. “Does it hurt?” Did it hurt? No one had ever asked me that before. Tears started pouring down my face. “Yes.” I hadn’t realized it before, but being cared for made me feel weak. I didn’t even know you could cry without having eyes. Panicking, the boy wiped away my tears with his small hands. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. Your wounds will get infected.” “Don’t worry, I can still see.” “Are you hungry?” He spoke softly, and then he put something in my mouth. It was sweet and delicious, something I had never tasted before. “What is this?” I asked. “Chocolate. I have lots at home. When we get out of here, I’ll give it all to you.” I smiled through my sniffles. “You should keep it.” I had a feeling we might never make it out, and worse, we might not survive at all. That night, two children didn’t make it. I overheard them talking about selling our organs. Hearts, lungs… everything had a price. I trembled in fear. People were just like pigs to them, sold off in pieces. “Check if there are any more who won’t make it. We’ll send them all off together.” Someone began checking each of us. The boy next to me was burning up. I knew he had a fever. I kept putting my hands on the cold floor and then pressing them to his forehead. Soon, the men reached us. “This girl is well-behaved and pretty. She could be useful in a few years.” “Heh, even the little ones now?” They grabbed my chin, discussing me with disgusting smiles. When they’d had enough of their jokes, they pushed me aside. I held onto his hand tightly. I was afraid that if I let go, I wouldn’t be able to find him again. Sure enough, one of the men said, “This boy’s got a fever.” “Of course he does, you broke his leg!” “It’s not too bad. Let’s keep him a couple more days.” Their voices faded as they walked away. I breathed a sigh of relief and loosened the boy’s shirt. “Are you okay? Loosen your clothes a bit, and the fever will go down.” He seemed to still be conscious, turning over to cooperate. “You know how to cool someone down?” he asked weakly. “I’ve done it for my brother.” I looked after him for three days. We were ‘lucky’ enough to survive. We watched out for each other and made it through five years. I searched my memory. We had been taken away in a white van. If I could find that van, I could save Ryan! But with my small body, I’d be caught the moment they saw me. Not to mention Janine Brooks was still out there. If I escaped, would the traffickers send her to get me? She was my legal guardian. No one would question her if she took me. But what if I wasn’t me anymore? An idea flashed through my mind, and I started searching the storage room. I found a pair of clippers. I shaved off all my hair and turned my clothes inside out. I looked like a scrappy little boy now. I stuffed a sharp tool into my pocket and quietly slipped out, heading for the mall’s back entrance. The traffickers wouldn’t park at the main entrance. If I was lucky, I’d find the van soon, memorize the license plate, and call the police. Not just Ryan — all the kids could be saved! But luck wasn’t on my side. I’d barely taken a few steps when Janine Brooks spotted me. She grabbed me by the collar and yanked me up. “You little brat, think you can run away?” In the air, I grabbed onto the leg of the woman I’d pulled hair from earlier. “Help me! I don’t know her!” I looked up and realized it was the same woman. She blinked at me in surprise. Then she pulled me into her arms. “You’re not her mother! She came here with her dad!” I clung to her like she was my lifeline. “Sister, help me! My mom is the wife of Michael Pierce! Can I borrow your phone?” “She’s a trafficker! She wants to sell me!” Janine Brooks’ face turned pale. “What nonsense are you spouting? I’m your mother!” I quickly spoke up. “Sister, she shaved my head to make me look like a boy! Help me, my mom is rich. She’ll thank you!” The woman took pity on me. “I’ll call your mom right away.” She believed me and pulled out her phone. “Do you know her number?” I nodded vigorously. In my past life, after Ryan disappeared, my parents never changed their numbers, hoping for any call with news. Janine Brooks stared at me in disbelief and called my name again, “Daisy?” I ignored her and clung to my savior, crying. “Sister, the traffickers parked a white van by the back door! There are lots of kids inside. Please help them!” I was so specific that everyone thought I’d just escaped from there. In a flash, they all rushed to the back door, and sure enough, there was a white van. Even the security guards gathered, and after hearing what was going on, they pried the van open. But it was empty. Everyone looked at each other in confusion, and I froze. Did they leave early because I escaped? Panic washed over me, my palms clammy with cold sweat. Janine Brooks, who had been terrified just moments ago, regained her composure. She rushed forward, trying to grab me again. “I told you she was making it all up! You’ve all been tricked by a little kid! There were never any traffickers!”

The woman holding me took a few steps back, avoiding any confrontation. “Don’t lay a hand on me. Even if the van is empty, this still isn’t your kid!” Having seen me with my ‘dad’ and hearing my phone call, she had no doubts about the identity I had created. I clung to her, full of gratitude. “Thank you so much! My mom is on her way!” Involving Ryan meant I knew Linda Pierce was already en route. Janine Brooks rolled her eyes at me. “You little brat, I just went to the restroom, and now you’re running around calling random people ‘Mom’? You’ve really lost it!” She flashed a photo from her phone. It was one she had accidentally taken of me while trying to capture a picture of her precious son. “Look at this! I took this at home!” she said, showing the picture. In the photo, four-year-old me was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing it clean, while a little boy lounged on the couch, stuffing strawberries into his mouth with one hand and tossing the strawberry tops at me with the other. A few people around us couldn’t help but look uncomfortable at the sight. “Even if she’s your kid, isn’t it a bit much to have someone this young doing that kind of work?” “Yeah, that looks like child abuse.” Someone pieced things together from the earlier incident with the man. “So you are her mom, and you’re just like her dad!” Janine didn’t bother defending herself anymore. She lunged toward me, trying to grab me back. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re trying to steal my kid?” Seeing the woman holding me hesitate, I decided to shout, “You took money from the traffickers! You want to sell me! This is child trafficking, and you’re going to jail for it!” “Shut your mouth!” Janine’s face turned red as her scheme was exposed. “You tricked me into going to the restroom, but you were actually calling the traffickers! Deleting the call logs won’t help — the cops will find out!” As everyone gasped, I threw in another bombshell. This was something Janine had once boasted about to me in my past life, just before drugging me. By then, the Pierce Corporation had been divided, and everything had fallen under the control of Michael Pierce’s brother. Janine had revealed all her deceit to me while I was slipping into unconsciousness. It was then I realized how foolish I’d been to wait five whole years, expecting the person who had orchestrated it all to come and save me. But now, before Linda arrived, news came that the entire mall had been locked down. Not just this one — the entire shopping district was sealed off temporarily. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth in my chest. The Pierce family had already made their move! With no one able to leave, the crowd settled in to watch the drama unfold. It didn’t take long for the security guards to detain Janine. “Until Mrs. Pierce arrives, you’re not going anywhere,” one of them said. Janine didn’t believe I actually knew anyone important, but there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “Why are you restricting my freedom?” Suddenly, the sound of screeching tires pierced through the noise. A deep purple Rolls-Royce Cullinan roared into view, stopping with a dramatic spin right in front of everyone. The door flew open, and Linda Pierce jumped out of the driver’s seat. “Who made the call?” she demanded. She was as bold as ever, but her flawless makeup had started to smudge, revealing a hint of exhaustion beneath her strong demeanor. In my previous life, she hadn’t crumbled when Ryan went missing. Instead, she encouraged her husband to continue the search, and together, they combed the entire country. It was her perseverance that eventually saved us. Could someone like her really have suffered from depression and taken her own life? Doubts began creeping into my mind, but I shoved them aside for now. I scrambled over to her. “Mom! I know where Ryan is! He was taken in a white van, and if we don’t hurry, they’ll break his leg!” A flash of panic crossed Linda’s face, and she quickly pulled out her phone. “Contact Chief Thompson immediately! Block every white van that left Midtown Shopping Center in the past hour.” After giving the orders, she turned to the crowd. “Thank you all for helping us find a lead. Each of you will receive a $10,000 reward. Please wait a moment while I speak with…” She looked at me. I straightened up and replied, “My name is Ellie!” I much preferred Ellie over the name Daisy. She nodded, picking me up and placing me in the car. “I need to have a word with Ellie.” The promise of money sent the crowd into a cheer, and some even nudged Janine toward the security guards. I quickly added, “Mom, she’s working with the traffickers! She just called them!” Linda didn’t even have to respond. The security guards jumped in eagerly, taking Janine into custody. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Pierce. We’ve got her.” Linda nodded, then closed the car door and turned to me, her face full of concern. “You’ve seen Ryan? He gave you my number? Did you escape from the van? Why didn’t he come with you?” The questions came fast and hard. But seeing my mom alive and well for the first time again made me choke up. I threw myself into her arms, tears flowing uncontrollably. After a long moment, I finally managed to speak through my sobs. “Mom… I missed you so much!” Linda froze for a moment as she held me. “What did you just call me?” she asked, her voice soft but surprised. “N-Nothing.” I quickly pulled away from her embrace, stumbling over my words. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Pierce. I just really like you.” Linda chuckled softly. “Well, even though it’s our first time meeting, I like you too.” She handed me a bottle of water and said kindly, “Take a drink. When you’re feeling better, tell me everything that happened, okay?” “Okay!” Her warmth soothed my nerves, and I slowly recounted how Janine had tricked me and how I had escaped from the man. I also told her about Ryan, pretending that I had overheard everything while being held by the man. “How did you know my phone number?” she asked. I smiled. “I saw it on TV.” As the vice president of Pierce Corporation, she naturally had a public contact number. Linda pulled me into another hug. “Ellie, you’re amazing!” Her praise was genuine. After all, who would expect a four-year-old to remember a phone number from a brief TV appearance? Once she had reassured me, Linda made a few more phone calls. It didn’t take long before the police arrived and joined the security guards in the mall’s surveillance room. Within minutes, Janine Brooks was handcuffed. She hurled insults at me as they dragged her away. “You ungrateful brat! I raised you, and this is how you repay me?” “You should’ve gone with them willingly — at least you’d be of some use!” “She’s my daughter! If I want to sell her, I can! What right do you have to arrest me?” Every word stabbed deep, revealing her cruelty and stupidity. And every word was evidence. Linda covered my ears. “Don’t worry, Ellie. Your mom’s here now.” I hugged her back, my heart aching and filled with gratitude. Mom, this time, I won’t let you suffer from depression! As much as Janine hated it, the police took her away. The crowd cheered and looked at me with sympathetic eyes. Linda carried me to the car, ready to offer me some words of comfort, but then her phone rang. The good news was that there had been only one white van leaving Midtown Shopping Center in that time frame. The bad news was that the van had already left the city limits, and they’d lost it on surveillance.

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The pervert senior who plays very well × the frustrated substitute me In the utility room, he, who was drunk, pressed me on the table. The sports rope I had intended to give him now bound my wrist with an unyielding grip. No matter how much I pleaded, he showed no mercy. With a firm hold, he removed my glasses, waving them mockingly before tossing them out the window. Then he pulled my shoulder hard and said to me in a threatening tone, “I told you, this is more like her.” I cried and watched him leave teeth marks all over the place, feeling heartbroken. He is my senior, Liam Brown. We first met in the Go club, and he and I were assigned to the same group. I knew that he had a fierce style of play, and one would loose repeatedly as soon as he started playing. At that moment, I was wiping the sweat from my brow while stealing glances at his face. My hands shook as I played, anxiety flooding me. I didn’t expect that he would suddenly hold my chess-playing hand, tilt his head and smile, then handsomely help me move the chess piece to the correct position. The chess pieces were cold, but his fingertips were warm. The strange touch shocked my pupils. He is…so charming! As a boy, I fell madly in love with another boy! To pursue Liam Brown, I dedicated myself to my studies and successfully gained admission to his university. The bad news is that the person he likes is a girl. But the good news was that she had rejected him and was planning to go abroad. I knew my chance had finally come, but I never expected it would mark the beginning of my suffering. hat day, I used all my savings to treat my senior to an extravagant dinner. He smiled and said to me, “You’ve made a fortune.” But there was an undeniable loneliness in his eyes. I nervously sat next to the senior and poured him a glass of wine. Let him cry to me about how much he likes that goddess. That was my first time drinking foreign liquor. The blend of bitterness and sweetness coursed through my already fragile stomach, but for the sake of my senior, I downed it anyway, ignoring my stomach’s protests. And he drank a lot. Of course, I had my own intentions. I want to get my senior drunk so that I can get him. After I downed more than ten cups, my senior was completely drunk. I removed my glasses and finally found the courage to speak my heart. A little boy tells all his secret love for another boy without any scruples. I cried and pleaded with Liam Brown not to hate me, desperately asking if he could find it in his heart to accept me. I expected the senior to refuse me. But he opened his eyes wide and grabbed my shoulders. He kept repeating the goddess’ name, Vivian. Then he kissed me without any hesitation, “Don’t go.” That night, we booked a room at the hotel near the school gate. He was drunk and transformed into a different person—tying me up and gripping my throat with anger, demanding to know why I wanted to leave. I really want him to sober up, but I know that he will definitely hate me when he really wakes up. After all, I turned him gay when he was drunk. So, I hugged the unconscious senior and told him that I was Vivian. In that moment, I thought it might be nice to experience some affection from him, even if it was fleeting, so I let him treat me however he pleased. When I woke up the next day, my senior looked at me with disgust. Then he asked another girl out to hang out. Before leaving, she left a message: “If you weren’t a bit like her, I wouldn’t even say a word to you, die.” I held my aching waist and thought it was all over. Who would have known that from then on, whenever the senior drank too much, he would come to me, Same room, same bondage, and ferocity, The difference was that Liam Brown kissed me more often in the following encounters. He proposed to me that we should develop a secret relationship until Vivian came back. “Why me? What about those girls who are chasing you?” I asked. He leaned against the bed, smoked a cigarette, squinted his eyes and said, “With you, no one will suspect anything.” “Of course, I can still have fun with other girls at the same time..” At that moment, I realized that Liam Brown was not the man I imagined. He was not the gentle boy who plays chess in the afternoon, but a scheming, selfish, playboy scumbag. But I still said nothing, just nodded silently and let him continue. I still feel a little guilty, after all, I was the one who got him drunk and forced him to have sex. Deep down, I knew that every time he treated me roughly, it was because he had someone else in his heart. But he said he wouldn’t be so nice to Viviani, so these are specially prepared for me, So overall, he still likes me a little bit. I remained silent, a flash of happiness flashed through my heart. I naively thought that the companionship of the later comers really touched him. Until I saw Vivian, wearing branded clothes, walk up to Liam Brown and say confidently, “I’m back. You said you liked me before, does that still count?” Liam Brown pushed away my hand on his shoulder and said, “Of course it counts.” It was then that I came to my senses and realized that I had always been a substitute. He deleted my contact information without even looking back. I turned to my goddess and told her I was just an annoying classmate, not even a friend. The goddess smiled and said, “Of course, how could you possibly want to be friends with him? He’s obviously a jerk.” “Of course.” Liam Brown glanced at me, without any emotion in his eyes. At that moment, what I heard was not only the sound of a broken heart, but also the sound of a broken dignity. That night, I couldn’t help but vomit into the toilet. It was the first time I felt so miserable. At first, I thought I was just emotionally hurt and didn’t take it seriously. Until later, I started to vomit constantly, couldn’t eat anything, often felt dazed, and lost weight. I went to the hospital, where the doctor delivered the devastating news: I had gastrointestinal cancer and needed to be hospitalized immediately for treatment. The doctor noticed my dazed expression and reassured me, saying, “Don’t worry; it’s not in the late stage yet. If you cooperate with the treatment, you’ll be fine.” I held the medical record in my hand and thought about how I had to force myself to drink with Liam Brown every time. I felt it was not worth it. I also thought about how Liam Brown always gave me whatever I wanted, and I found it ridiculous. I shook my head and laughed at myself, and my heart ached slightly. Look, she insisted on chasing after a scumbag, only to be abandoned without a single glance back and left with a terminal illness. I left the hospital in a daze and squatted at the hospital entrance, but the first person I wanted to contact was Liam Brown. I felt like a jerk, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to say goodbye to him. After all, this is the first boy I liked, and he is the Go boy in my memory. Just as I was about to dial his number, I saw his name flash across my phone screen. Why was he calling me? Was he finally going to apologize? I took a breath and told myself that I should never forgive him, but say goodbye cleanly and start over. But when I picked up the phone, Liam Brown’s drunken voice slurred through the receiver. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer my calls? Come to the school utility room. I’ll be waiting for you here.” I thought he would have a change of heart, and even brought a farewell gift so that we could part ways amicably. The result was that they were forced to have sex in the utility room…

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My girlfriend’s mother was in a car accident and was admitted to the ICU. I sold my RV and helped her pay for all the surgery costs. But she turned and threw herself into the arms of her first love. I started to question her, but I didn’t expect her to get angry with me directly: “What qualifications do you have to interfere in my private life? You don’t have a car or a house; you don’t deserve to be by my side!” My girlfriend’s mother also blamed me. Later, she and her first love dominated the hot searches due to bad news. I was sitting at my desk, signing a thirty million dollar contract. Sharon has been acting strange these past few days. She often goes out early and comes back late, leaving her mother, who just woke up from a car accident, for me to take care of. At night, when I leaned in close to her collar, she sighed and said tiredly, “I’m tired. I don’t want to now.” With that, she turned away. I couldn’t understand why she was being so cold. The next morning, while Sharon was still sleeping, I got up to make breakfast and prepared a pot of chicken soup for her mother. Taking advantage of this time, I decided to tidy up the mess in the house. Sharon has a habit of leaving things scattered everywhere, and when I picked up her bag, I unexpectedly found a bottle of lubricant inside. Why would Sharon have something like this? In that moment, my blood boiled with anger. I woke Sharon up from her sleep and demanded, “What is this? Tell me, what did you do when you went out last night?” To my surprise, Sharon snapped back, “Who told you to go through my things?” I was infuriated. No matter what, I am still a man. Now, my dignity feels like it’s being trampled underfoot. I couldn’t take it anymore and said, “Sharon, your mother is still in the hospital, and you’re out here doing this kind of thing. Are you even worthy of me?” Sharon snapped and turned against me directly, sneering contemptuously: “What qualifications do you have to interfere in my private life? You don’t have a car or a house. Look at yourself—how can you be worthy of me?” Just then, Sharon’s cell phone rang. It was her mother calling. Not wanting to make this situation any more embarrassing for my elders, I decided to stay silent for the moment. Once the call connected, Sharon’s mother’s dissatisfied voice came through: “What time is it? Why hasn’t Luke come to bring me breakfast?” Sharon responded angrily, “Who knows what’s wrong with him? He got up so early this morning and had to argue with me. I haven’t even woken up yet…” “What?” her mother snapped, “Give him the phone! I’ll talk to him!” Sharon handed me the phone. I was about to explain, but her mother cut me off: “Luke, I’m not saying anything bad about you, but how can you argue with our Sharon? You don’t have a car or a house right now, and our Sharon is working hard all by herself. You need to understand…” Her words pierced my heart like sharp knives. My whole body shook. It turned out that in the minds of this mother and daughter, I was nothing but a coward. But the reason I sold the RV was to help Sharon’s mother pay for her six-month ICU expenses. Now I have nothing, and this mother-daughter duo is trying to burn my bridges! “Okay, bring me breakfast quickly. I’m hungry!” Sharon’s mother ordered me like I was her servant, then hung up the phone. As I handed the phone back to Sharon, I suddenly noticed a message pop up on the screen. “Baby, how was your rest last night?”

And the sender of that message was Simon. Sharon immediately snatched the phone away, her guilt evident as she frantically pressed the screen. “Don’t look at it! Why are you still standing there like an idiot?” she said, her discomfort palpable. After a moment, she stood up angrily. “Okay, so you want to be stubborn today, right? If you won’t leave, then I will!” With that, she put on her coat, slammed the door, and stormed out. It was midsummer, but I felt like I had fallen into an icy cave. How did Sharon and I get to this point? I didn’t know Simon well, but I knew enough about him. He was Sharon’s first love. The only time I had met him was at a class reunion dinner when he returned to China a year ago. At that time, Sharon had enthusiastically introduced us: “Luke, this is Simon. We’re friends now. Let’s have a drink together later.” I was so jealous that I pulled Sharon over and glared at Simon, as if to declare my territory. Simon just smiled faintly, adjusted his collar, and said in a low voice, “No need, buddy. No matter how much you cherish her, Sharon is still someone I used to play with, isn’t she?” I was furious and wanted to teach Simon a lesson. Unexpectedly, Sharon pushed me away and said sternly, “Luke, today is a class reunion. There are so many important people here. Can you please not embarrass yourself?” I looked at her in disbelief, not understanding why she was so unconditionally biased towards Simon. Simon seemed to have anticipated Sharon’s reaction. He paused, smiled, and pulled her away. As he turned, he said loudly, “Is it really too much for me to have a drink with my good friend?” Whether they were friends or something more was self-evident. Later, after Simon went abroad, Sharon spent every day getting drunk at the bar. On several occasions, I had to pick her up when she was too intoxicated to stand. One night, as I was about to leave, Sharon hooked her finger around my neck and pleaded, “Don’t go, don’t go…” I admit that I am selfish. I had a crush on Sharon back in college. When a man and a woman are alone in a room, things are bound to happen. Even though Sharon still had feelings for Simon, he was far away, and they had no chance to be together. I stubbornly wanted to keep Sharon by my side. The next day, we naturally established a relationship. But the good times didn’t last long. A year later, during a trip, Sharon’s mother was involved in a car accident and fell into a coma. She became a vegetative state, with extremely low chances of waking up. She needed daily ICU care to stay alive. She cried as she hugged me, saying in despair, “What should I do? I don’t think I can save my mother… I’ll be alone from now on.” Coming from a single-parent family, Sharon was raised by her mother, so I can’t imagine how devastating it would be for her if her mother died. Without hesitation, I sold the RV and transferred five million directly into Sharon’s account. With that money, her mother stayed in the ICU for six months and underwent four major and minor surgeries. Perhaps it was God’s blessing that Sharon’s mother finally woke up. I was genuinely happy for her. I naively believed that we had overcome all obstacles and that Sharon and I would continue to live happily ever after. But with Simon’s return, all of that became a distant dream. It was time to end this humble relationship. I could accept everything about Sharon, but I would never tolerate her betrayal. The chicken soup I had made was ready, but I poured it into the trash can. After packing my things, I broke up with Sharon on WeChat. She didn’t even try to keep me. Her response was direct and decisive: “Okay! Then get out of my house!” For our final breakup, I didn’t want to cause a scene. Respectability was my last gift to her. Before leaving, I swapped out the lubricant for super glue.

I didn’t know where to start my new life. Once upon a time, everything about me revolved around Sharon. After some thought, I bought a ticket to the city where my best friend Liam lived. When Liam learned I was coming to Riverdale, he rushed to the airport to pick me up without hesitation. In the car, I lit a cigarette, feeling dejected. Liam noticed something was off and, after a moment, asked, “What’s wrong? This isn’t like you. Didn’t you quit smoking?” “What’s going on between you and your girlfriend?” he asked, hitting the nail on the head. I replied calmly, “We broke up.” “Oh,” he laughed. “No big deal, man. Pull yourself together.” Then he took me to his apartment and said, “You can stay here for now. If it doesn’t feel right, you can move out when you find a place.” I nodded in appreciation. Liam continued, “What do you want to do about work? Start over, or…” I glanced at the ten million balance in my bank account and said, “Let’s start over.” During college, I had majored in Finance. I loved everything related to numbers—stocks, investments, trading… As for that balance, it was the money I earned by calculating the appreciation of real estate values. The third anniversary of my relationship with Sharon coincided with the twentieth day since her mother had been admitted to the ICU. I cooked a large feast and inserted my bank card, containing all my assets, into a cake. I wanted to tell Sharon that I could bring her happiness and that she shouldn’t lose faith in life because of her mother’s hospitalization. But Sharon didn’t come home. She forgot our anniversary and only called me at 8 PM, coldly saying, “I have something to do tonight and can’t leave. I won’t be back.” Before I could respond, she hung up. Looking back, maybe it was because Simon had returned to China. I smiled bitterly. Just then, my phone vibrated. It was a reminder from the monitoring system I had installed at home. “Master, a stranger’s face has been detected.” I paused for a moment, but out of concern for Sharon’s safety, I clicked on the screen. After all, Sharon lives alone now, and it would be dangerous if a criminal broke in. Fortunately, Sharon was safe. But the funny thing was, the stranger’s face on the screen was Simon’s. I froze, watching the two of them enter the room together, looking affectionate.

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In my third paralysed year, my husband’s female partner gave me a pair of high heels. They were a beautiful pair of high heels. I looked at my skinny legs and angrily threw the shoes at her. My husband got angry. “You think Rose was taunting you by giving you the shoes?” “She doesn’t see you as disabled at all! It’s respect!” ChapterI sat in my wheelchair and opened the door. The crowd in the living room fell silent. My husband Joel and his gymnastics team members held their glasses and turned their heads to look at me in unison. Joel was shocked, “How did you… come out?” I was disappointed. I helped make this celebration happen. The gymnastics team won an international award, and I was the key designer of the program. No one cared if I was there. The atmosphere was awkward. My husband’s partner, Rosalie Hans, smiled at me condescendingly. “Jeanne, we won’t disturb you.” “This is a gift from the gymnastics team.” She held a gift box in front of me. The high heels in the box were covered with diamonds and shone in the light. “We chose this together. Do you like it?” My heart suddenly ached. I held down my unconscious legs, and the bones under my palms reminded me that these legs had long lost the ability to stand. They knew my legs were ruined and I couldn’t stand, and they still chose such a gift. But before I could open my mouth, Joel said, “Why don’t you thank Rose? ” I took a deep breath, looked up and asked him, “You know this gift, right? You gave high heels to a paralysed person! How dare you!” “Your feet aren’t broken, can’t you wear these? We don’t treat you like a disabled person. It’s called respect.” “You know what’s in your heart!” I yelled. He got impatient and said, “Don’t blame Rose.” “She asked about your hobbies and found out you have lots of high heels. That’s why she chose this gift.” He got it wrong. Before I was paralysed, I liked buying shoes. But since I’ve been paralysed, I can only throw all my high heels into the cupboard. My heart is sore. Chapter

When I was paralysed, he hugged me and said, “I love you no matter what.” When I was scared, he said, “I’ll be your legs from now on.” He bathed and massaged me every day and sent me for acupuncture and massage. This went on for three years. One day, he said the name Rosalie Hans. We had less and less to talk about, and he came back later and later every day. He became detached and cold. He even forgot the day of my treatment. We had a qurrel one day. Rosalie came to calm us down. “Alright, Joel, I’m scared when you’re like this.” She stroked Joel’s chest, then squatted in front of my wheelchair. “Jeanne, don’t think about sad things. Let me help you try on your shoes.” She grabbed my legs without waiting for my consent. Then she lifted the hem of the dress. A withered, bony leg appeared. Joel had not accompanied me for rehab for more than two years because recovery was hopeless. He closed his eyes when he saw my legs. Joel turned away, disgusted. “You can see pressure sores all over your legs. Hurry up and put down your clothes.” “Shame on you!” She laughed, seeing me staring at her. “Don’t talk about Jeanne like that. She was a very good dancer.” With envy in her mouth, she forcefully twisted my leg outward at a strange angle. “Try on the shoes. Joel and I chose them together.” The high heel sits empty on my foot, mocking my ungainly leg bones. The taunts came and went. I clenched my fists and bit my lip. I snatched the high heels and slammed them into her face. “Get out!” “Don’t touch me!” She let out a scream and turned to rush into Joel’s arms, crying with tears streaming down her face. Joel grabbed her and kicked my wheelchair. I was pushed back towards the table with drinks. The glass broke on my head. I also fell out of the wheelchair. I reflexively reached out to Joel, hoping he could give me a hand. But he looked disgusted. “Rose gave you a shoe fitting, don’t be ungrateful!” I was angry and wanted to hit something. “Joel, you guys are too much! Bullying me for being disabled?” “You’re unbelievable. Who bullied you? Our gift is respect!” “You’re wicked.” I was shocked and speechless. That’s what he thought of me. He wouldn’t let me go to the banquet today. To stop me going to the living room. Joel even changed my cold medicine to sleeping pills. He thought I didn’t know. But for three years, over a thousand sleepless nights, I relied on this tiny pill to fall asleep. After taking too much medicine, one develops patience. I can’t sleep deeply with just one pill now. My eyes grew moist. When we first fell in love, he was able to wait for hours outside the theatre to introduce me to his best friend. I knew that hearts change, but it still hurt when it came to this day. Chapter

Three years ago, we saw a mudslide on the road. A boulder hit Joel in the back, and blood spilled out. I was only a little hurt sitting in the back. I cried and asked the system again. “Can he stand up now?” “No, his nerves are damaged.” What can we do? He’s young and his gymnastics career has just started. How can he die in this accident? I can’t bear the thought of him suffering. I asked the system, “Can I still use the points earned from previous?” “What do you want?” “I want to trade my legs to him.” “Host, are you crazy? If you give it to him, you’ll never dance again.” I nodded. “I’d rather suffer than see him suffer.” I’d rather see him healthy and happy. I cleared all my points and had the system switch my leg to him. From then on, I was paralysed in bed. Joel was lucky to be alive after being pressed under a boulder. He didn’t know I was the price he paid for everything. I was paralysed for a month. I was in pain and confused. I had no sleep and lost hair. Joel took a month off to take care of me. He supported me through my darkest time and our bond grew stronger. I got used to living in a wheelchair. Joel’s gymnastics career improved and we moved from a small house to a big villa. I taught myself program design in a wheelchair. I couldn’t dance, but I could design dance moves on the computer. Second year paralysed. I designed unique moves for their team. They did really well at the National Gymnastics Competition and are going to represent the USA at the World Championships next month. I called the system “The legs we switched back then, can we change them back?” “Yes, but there aren’t enough points left.” “How do I get the points?” “You’ll get points when you complete a random mission.” Chapter

I went to the stage at Pleasant Plaza in my wheelchair. There”s an open-air interview today. The couple are Joel and Rose, the golden pair of gymnasts. The host said the woman should touch Joel’s chest for the fans. Rose covered her face and then extended her hand. Joel looked at her with love, not backing away. He said he and Rose were only sponsoring the gymnastics team and nothing more. I kept seeing Rose’s name. “Rose did another difficult manoeuvre today!” “Rose and I work well together!” “Rose …” Some fans noticed me. “This is Joel’s wife?” “He’s got a wife.” “She’s pathetic. I heard she used to be a dancer.” “She’s still a cripple, she’s not good enough for him.” I ignored the comments. The director called the camera crew off and told the two men to continue filming after they’d solved their problems. Joel ran up, angry, and asked, “Why are you here?” I tilted my head and said, “I came to watch your interview.” “Go home! ” Joel’s disciple, Adam said loudly, “Hey, what are you doing here?” Rose came over and apologised, “Sorry, Jeanne. I was shooting and didn’t think. ” The crowd was unhappy that I didn”t accept her apology. “What’s with her face? Rose apologised and she still looks angry.” Some fans started a live broadcast, making things worse. Adam stared at me and laughed. “Why does it smell like urine? Is someone incontinent again?” “It really smells.” “It”s disgusting.” I laughed. Joel looked at me with contempt. “Joel, they’re insulting your wife.” He frowned, “Wife? We’re divorced.” He didn’t look at me. I sneered, “When did we get divorced?” There was more commotion. “You’re divorced and you’re still here, aren’t you?” “Get lost!” The crowd pushed me and I lost my balance. I fell forward and someone stepped on my leg. I thought I heard bones clicking and breaking. Adam scolded me, “You should have gone home.” Joel didn’t stop. He sneered, “I know what you want to see.” He gave Rose’s hand to me. I realised they were wearing the same couple watch. What’s not to understand? We had a watch like this. We were just starting out in our careers. We earned less and spent more. We saved money to get married. In summer, we went to the mall, sat in the air conditioning, ate ice cream. We shared it. He got a part-time job and bought two watches. This watch has been worn for several years. One day, his wrist was empty. He said he couldn’t find it. Joel is wearing a watch again. It wasn’t the original one. I said coldly, “Is that your answer?” Joel looked away. “I’ve done my best for you.” “See you at the Civil Affairs Bureau.”

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The moment we finalized a high-society marriage, the true daughter showed up, claiming that the richest couple were her real parents. Even my successful fiancé, she said, was supposed to be hers. I just nodded and smiled. Without my “Charm of Fortune,” would they even be the richest? Could my fiancé have become a rising star in business? Content My fiancé and I, childhood sweethearts, were nearing our wedding day when someone unexpected showed up at our home. She claimed to be my mom’s long-lost biological daughter, saying I’d stolen her life as an imposter heiress. After a DNA test, her story checked out. That night at dinner, Delilah Monroe slammed her chopsticks down and pointed at me, shouting, “Get out of my house! You don’t belong here!” My mom frowned, her voice soft as she said, “Delilah, don’t be so rude to your sister. Jojo may not be my biological daughter, but I raised her.” Delilah threw her bowl to the floor and burst into tears, flinging herself into my mom’s arms. She cried about how hard her life had been, growing up on her own. My mom’s eyes grew red as she listened to Delilah’s story of hardship. “But Jojo isn’t our real daughter. She shouldn’t bear our family name or live here,” Delilah insisted. Mom frowned but stayed silent. I finished my last shrimp and stood, “Well, if that’s how it is, I’ll move out for now. That way, you can spend time with Mom.” Delilah gave me a sharp glare. Mom, clearly heartbroken, slipped a debit card into my hand. “The PIN is your birthday.” Delilah saw the whole thing and broke into loud, panicked sobs. I made a call to Delilah’s brother—oh, I guess I should call him my brother now. Supposedly, a nurse had mixed us up at birth. When the call connected, I heard a gentle, refined male voice on the other end. “Yes, who’s this?” “I’m your sister—the one you’ve never met but are definitely related to. Could you come pick me up?” Half an hour later, a car pulled up at the front door. Delilah shoved me toward it. “Hurry up and leave. Don’t come back!” Mom kept reminding me to take care of myself as I left. I turned and saw my new brother, who had thoughtfully packed my luggage. Glancing at Delilah’s smug expression, I gave her a knowing smirk. “Hope you’re ready. Just don’t regret it later.” After that, I got into the car with my brother, who occasionally stole glances at me while he drove. “Our place is a little small. I hope that’s okay,” he said. “Not a problem! We’re siblings now—we’ll support each other!” I replied, beaming. The car stopped outside an apartment building. No elevator, just stairs. My brother carried my suitcase and had barely reached the door when his phone rang. After a few words, he started smiling and thanked the caller repeatedly. “What’s going on?” I asked when he hung up. “One of my coding projects just won an international award—there’s a $100,000 prize!” he said, clearly overjoyed. I congratulated him with a smile. “I never thought I’d win. I knew they’d pretty much picked the winner, so I just submitted it for fun. But it turns out the favorite dropped out, and I actually won.” I wasn’t surprised, really. I’ve had this “Charm of Fortune” since I was little, and it tends to rub off on those around me.

As a kid, I’d ace multiple-choice questions even with my eyes shut. “Get one free” bottle caps? A regular thing. I’d want ice cream, and suddenly, I’d find five dollars on the sidewalk. I even bought a lottery ticket once on a whim and won thirty million dollars. My parents took that windfall and started investing, so I got in on it too and bought a stock. The stock shot up, and we made a small fortune. From that point on, Mom and Dad’s business boomed. My fiancé, Zach, got his own share of the luck, becoming a rising star in the business world. I patted my brother on the shoulder. “You’ll be even richer soon.” He grinned and said he’d treat me to a nice dinner once the prize money came through. When he finally got it, he didn’t waste a moment before taking me out. During dinner, he mentioned how at work, everyone else had been slacking off while he worked hard, and his boss had noticed—he might even be getting a promotion and a raise. “Jojo, what do you think is up with my luck lately?” he asked. We went to a high-end restaurant, and just as we were ordering, in walked two familiar faces: Zach and Delilah. Delilah froze when she saw me, then angrily pointed at my brother. “Matthew Sinclair, what’s the deal? You’ve never taken me anywhere like this.” I grabbed her finger and twisted it upward with a grin, making her wince in pain. “That’s because we’re actual siblings,” I said, finally letting go as her face paled. “Jojo, it’s been a while,” Zach greeted me. Delilah immediately clung to his arm. “You’re my fiancé! Why are you talking to her?” Zach glanced at me, looking a little embarrassed as he pulled his arm free. “Jojo and I were engaged first. Even if you’re Mr. Carter’s biological daughter, our engagement still doesn’t count.” Delilah stiffened, her eyes welling with tears. “Why? She took everything that was supposed to be mine—Mom and Dad, and you too!” I chuckled and sat back down. Delilah found a seat too, sniffling as Zach’s gaze darted between us. “Jojo, did your parents really kick you out?” he asked. I nodded. “Didn’t you notice I’m here eating with my brother?” Looking uncomfortable, Zach made his way over to Delilah’s side. He still needed the Carter family’s help in business, after all. Now that I was no longer the “Carter heiress,” I’d lost that advantage. After we finished eating, I took my brother to check out some lottery tickets. Scanning the prizes, I picked the one with the biggest payout, while he jokingly scolded me. “Jojo, stop trying to make easy money. It’s better to earn it the hard way.” “I know, but in the face of real skill, everything else is just luck,” I teased. Luck is its own kind of strength, after all. I bought a ticket for two dollars. A week later, I hit the jackpot. After taxes and a donation, I pocketed a cool fifteen million. Matthew’s jaw practically dropped. “Are you… reincarnated as some kind of lucky charm?” To be honest, I’d wondered the same. It seemed pretty likely. Without a second thought, I bought a house right across from the Monroe Estate and moved in with glee. Even Delilah’s dog, who’d been in her arms, ran right over to me, wagging its tail like crazy. “What are you doing here? Get out of my house!” Delilah screeched. I pointed to the house across the street. “Funny you should mention it—that’s my place.” Delilah didn’t believe me until I threw the property deed in her face. My parents didn’t seem surprised in the slightest. After all, they’d built their fortune because I once bought a scratch-off ticket on a whim and won. They even invited me over for dinner.

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My sister has always been strange. She keeps telling me that she’s received phone calls from her future self. Everyone else thinks she’s crazy, but I know she’s not lying. Content 0When my sister, Vivian, was in elementary school, she was the tallest in her class, so she got chosen as the class monitor. One day, a new student transferred into her class—a boy named Jacob Thorn, though everyone would later call him “Thorn.” The teacher introduced him in front of the whole class, adding that Jacob had been in a bad accident and hadn’t fully recovered. She encouraged everyone to look out for him. Everyone politely nodded in agreement, but beneath the surface, something sinister had already been set in motion. Now everyone knew: Jacob had learning disabilities. That knowledge made him a target. Some students would secretly urinate into his water bottle and trick him into drinking it. Others dragged him over to the girls’ section, pulling his pants down in front of everyone. Some smeared superglue on paper, pressed it onto his back, and wrote in big red letters, “I’m brain-dead.” Maybe they all truly thought Jacob was “brain-dead” because he never fought back, only showed up day after day with a smile on his face, as if none of it fazed him. Vivian, as the monitor, was proud and upright. Seeing the way Jacob was tormented, she used her height and authority to intervene. She defended him time and again. But little did she know, by doing so, she was about to unleash a Pandora’s box. 0

After that, her things started to get tampered with. An apple she’d left on her desk was found with sewing needles stuffed inside the flesh. Her backpack—opened to find cockroaches crawling out from its hidden compartment. Someone even planted a blood-stained sanitary napkin in her lunchbox. And every so often, she’d find notes in red pen, covered in vile, hateful words. Eventually, Vivian couldn’t take it anymore and completely broke down. Her teacher, outraged upon discovering this, immediately halted classes to investigate. But the class remained silent; nobody spoke up, and the investigation reached a dead end. The class monitor, Tyson Carden, suggested an anonymous vote. Maybe then, someone would reveal the culprit. And sure enough, when the votes came in, nearly every one of them pointed to Jacob Thorn. Right there in class, the teacher searched Jacob’s pencil case and found a whole pack of needles, a container full of cockroaches, two unopened sanitary pads, and several adult magazines. With Jacob condemned, the stories about his “other dirty habits” started to circulate. Someone claimed he’d sneak back to the classroom during morning exercises to lick Vivian’s cup. Another said he would linger around her desk after school, sniffing her chair. Someone else swore they’d seen him staring at her while she slept, drooling, and rubbing himself. Hearing this, Vivian ran to the bathroom, retching for what felt like hours. She refused to leave home for a month, too traumatized to return to school. Her homeroom teacher, Ms. Loretta Banks, along with a few other class leaders, came to visit her, promising that Jacob had been “handled.” His parents had taken him out of school, and he wouldn’t ever be coming back. With enough reassurance, Vivian finally returned to school. Jacob was gone, and things seemed normal again. But the psychological scars he left on her would never heal. Vivian started having recurring nightmares. She’d describe to us in detail how, in her dreams, she’d be trapped in a dark tunnel with a pair of eyes staring relentlessly at her. No matter how hard she ran, there was no end, no escape from that gaze. Because of these nightmares, Vivian stopped wearing bright clothes, refused to go out after dark, and began to fear even the presence of boys. But, as fate would have it, one day during high school, everything changed. 0

On that day, a fierce storm hit—dark clouds rolling in, thunder crashing. By five in the afternoon, it was as dark as midnight. Dad, as usual, was on his way to pick her up, but he got stuck in rising floodwater, and the car stalled. Vivian waited at the school gate, watching as a hurried passerby accidentally knocked her phone from her hand, sending it splashing into a puddle. The screen instantly fizzled out. As it got later and the streets emptied, Vivian decided to brave the walk home on her own, opening her umbrella and staying on high alert. Normally, she’d take a shortcut down a narrow alley, but not today. She chose the main road, avoiding every possible risk. But despite all precautions, fate still caught up with her. A man appeared, trailing her from about thirty feet back, keeping a steady distance. She glanced at his reflection in a shop window and saw him—a man in a black hoodie, face covered by a mask. If she stopped to tie her shoe, he stopped. If she quickened her pace, he matched it. By now, the street was completely deserted, and her whole body began to shake. It wasn’t the first time her school had heard of incidents like this. There had been a string of assault cases, all in stormy weather, and the perpetrator had yet to be caught. But instead of letting her fear paralyze her, Vivian kept moving, though her heart was racing. As the man started to close the distance, Vivian used every ounce of strength she had to dash toward a fruit shop at the corner. Without thinking, she threw herself against the door, forcing it open with her shoulder. The shop owner, Mr. Ellis Grant—a silver-haired old man—nearly had a heart attack. Vivian dropped to her knees, gasping for air, and with a hoarse voice, told him, “Someone’s following me.” The old man’s face grew serious as he stepped outside. Sure enough, there stood the man in black, a specter lingering just beyond. Mr. Grant pointed at him and shouted, “You get out of here before I call the police!” The man hesitated for a second, then turned and vanished into the storm. Relieved, Mr. Grant handed Vivian a cup of hot water and attempted to call her family, but all the phones were down—the storm had knocked out local service. When she’d calmed down, he offered to walk her home himself. But as they turned a corner on the way, a shadow rushed out of nowhere, barreling into them with force. Vivian fell, dazed, but when she looked up, horror rooted her in place. Mr. Grant lay on the ground, clutching his neck, blood pouring from between his fingers. A bolt of lightning illuminated the street like daylight, and his face was frozen in a grimace of shock as his eyes stared, unseeing, straight at her. Vivian said she’d never forget that sight. 0

After that, Vivian was admitted to Rosehill Psychiatric Center. She couldn’t take her exams, and the police never found her attacker. Even after her release, she couldn’t shake the trauma. Our family tried to get her back to school, but after only two weeks, she begged our parents to let her stay home. Just walking into the building reminded her of Jacob Thorn and that stormy night. With no other choice, they agreed. But her fears never went away. Every time it rained, she’d curl up in a corner, muttering strange things. Everyone thought she was just spouting nonsense—everyone but me. I listened, taking her words seriously. Vivian told me that she’d waited five years for a second chance to set things right. She said that three days from now, another storm—just like that one—would come. I didn’t believe her, but sure enough, three days later, the Pacific storm hit. Dark clouds rolled in, thunder boomed, just like she said. I stared at her in disbelief, and she explained. Five years ago to the day, she’d received a phone call. She had been waiting at the school gate for Dad, with the wind howling around her, making it hard to hear. The signal was awful, but she heard a woman’s voice telling her, “You’re in danger. Find help now!” A second later, the passerby bumped into her, and her phone ended up in the puddle. I listened in silence before finally asking her, “Who was the woman that called you?” “It was me,” she said calmly. 0“I could never forget that number; it’s exactly the same as the one for our landline at home.”

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In the dead of night, I got pulled into the County Jailhouse on a misunderstanding while selling goods on the street. The officer looked at my ID and, with a strange expression, said, “Wait, you graduated from Washington Ivy College. What are you doing selling things on the street at this hour?” I realized with a shock—the ID number on the file was mine, but the photo wasn’t. It was Claire Bright’s. Twenty years ago, I had been accepted into Washington Ivy! I stumbled back home, dazed, only to overhear my husband Damon Everett on the phone saying, “Claire, don’t worry about Callie Reid bothering you. You just go ahead and move overseas.” It was him! Damon Everett had helped Claire Bright take over my life! My stomach churned. I turned to confront him and reveal the truth, but Damon caught me off guard, strangling me to death with his belt. His last words rang out coldly, “Sorry, Callie, but you can’t get in the way of Claire’s future.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back in high school, right in the classroom as my teacher handed out the college application forms. This time, I’m taking my life back. Content

“Callie, have you decided where you want to apply yet?” I snapped out of the pain-filled memories and turned to my desk mate. His young face seemed so strange and innocent. That’s when I realized: I’d been given a second chance. “Callie, what’s up with you?” he asked, worried. I smiled and shook my head to reassure him, a burst of joy flaring inside me. Our teacher—Mr. Everett, Damon’s father—began speaking. “Go ahead and fill out your forms so I can get an idea of your plans,” he said. I fixed my eyes on Mr. Everett. It struck me now—he was helping Damon scout out prospects for Claire. We already knew our test scores, so there was no reason to gather in class to fill out paper forms. But he was calling everyone here, probably just to pick out the best for Claire. I clenched my fists, remembering how Damon had started pursuing me around this same time in my last life. I filled out the form randomly, ignoring his instructions. When I glanced up, I caught Mr. Everett watching me with a look I couldn’t quite read. Sure enough, after I turned in the form, Mr. Everett called out, “Callie Reid, come to my office.” He took my form and walked off without another word. “You scored the highest in the class this time, Callie. You’re definitely going to Washington Ivy,” my desk mate said. I had scored 702 points, the highest in class, and still didn’t get in last time. I had gone to Mr. Everett so many times, desperate to know why, and he had blamed my rejection on overreaching, saying I’d aimed too high with his recommendation for the Pre-Law Program. I glanced over at Damon, who was napping in the corner. I nodded to my desk mate. No way would I fall for this twice. I pushed open the office door, and Mr. Everett looked up. “Callie, you scored very well. Why did you choose these schools?” I had listed community colleges, one after another. “High employment rate,” I answered, spacing out each word. Mr. Everett went silent, then softened his tone. “You don’t need to aim low, Callie. It’s better for a young woman to study law.” He opened his laptop, pulling up the application portal for me. I stared at the screen, holding back a sarcastic laugh. He thought he could push me into filling it out his way? Did he think I’d willingly pave the way for Claire again? “No thanks, Mr. Everett. I’d rather drive a tractor,” I said, and turned to go, nearly bumping into Damon in the doorway. “Callie Reid, if you need help with the applications, just let me know. I’ve always wanted to study law.” Hearing this, I felt a spark of suspicion. So that’s it—they’re both trying to steer me toward law, hoping I’ll fall into their trap. “No, thanks,” I said calmly. “I already know what I want.” Damon gave a faint smile. “Alright, then.” I left the office in a hurry, catching Damon as he closed the door and leaned against it to eavesdrop. “Dad, if Callie doesn’t cooperate, can’t we just pick someone else?” I froze. Damon was willing to ruin someone else’s life too if I didn’t go along with it? “Callie’s got the highest score. She’s the safest bet,” Mr. Everett replied in a cold tone. “We owe Claire this chance. You know that.” I walked away, shaking my head. Owe Claire? So now my future’s the currency they’re paying with?

In my past life, I gave up everything for Damon, putting in endless hours to retake the college exams. Damon said he’d register me but later claimed he couldn’t because of some new regulations. I believed him. Later, I wanted to try for the adult college exam, but he said it was pointless. I decided to take it anyway, but on the test day, my alarm didn’t go off. I confronted him, and he insisted he’d turned it off to let me sleep. I was furious, but he held me close, saying, “Callie, let’s just get married. I’ll love you whether or not you go to college.” I cried in his arms, dreams of my future slipping away. But he was happy to let them. Damon later claimed he’d racked up debt from a work project, so I took on three, four jobs a day to help him repay it. Looking back, he must have seen me as an obstacle in Claire’s path, something to be controlled. Back in the classroom, I packed my things and headed home, ignoring a message from my desk mate saying Damon had been looking for me. He wasn’t giving up. My parents worked out of town, and when they heard about my score, they sent me some money and ordered a cake for me, though they wouldn’t be back until next month. I understood them—they were out there working construction jobs, every day on the job meaning one more day’s pay. I wasn’t in any rush to submit my college preferences; there were still two days left. But some people were getting antsy. That night, I went for a walk and ran into Damon. “Fancy meeting you here, Callie.” “Don’t you live on the west side?” I asked, already annoyed. Damon shrugged. “I had some errands over here. Want some company?” “No,” I said icily. “Stay away from me.” Damon looked stunned, then hurt. “Do you…hate me?” I stared at him. “Yes. So stay away from me.” Damon took a sharp breath. With his looks and popularity, he probably couldn’t fathom why I’d hate him so much. If it wasn’t illegal, I’d have knifed him already and been done with it. “Callie, if you hate me, at least tell me why.” Damon’s voice was low, his gaze intense. It was true—Damon was handsome. Otherwise, how would he have had me wrapped around his finger before? A voice called from nearby. “Damon, what are you doing here?” Claire Bright ran over and clung to his arm. I saw him tense up, just barely, but I noticed. It was my first close look at the woman who stole my future. “Who’s this?” Claire’s eyes narrowed at me. I smiled. “Callie Reid, Damon’s classmate.” Claire’s face shifted slightly. “Didn’t you say you were going to get me some snacks?” So, they’d just happened to bump into each other. Damon smoothly replied, “I forgot. You go home; I’ve got something to handle here.” Claire’s voice sharpened. “Damon, what do you mean?” He ushered her off, then turned back to me, his expression serious. “She’s just my mom’s friend’s daughter.” “Why tell me?” I asked. Damon’s tone was earnest. “I like you. I don’t want you to misunderstand.” I felt a wave of revulsion. Here we go again. “Well, I don’t like you,” I shot back. “You make me sick.” Damon’s face paled as he clenched his fists. “What did I do wrong?” “Your face is ugly,” I snapped, starting to walk away. “Callie Reid!” he shouted after me. “I’m not giving up!” I laughed coldly to myself. Only two days left. What could he possibly do?

The next day, I got home after school to find dozens of roses outside my door. Damon stood in the hallway, his tall figure cutting an impressive silhouette. “Callie, I know my confession was rushed yesterday. I want to do it properly this time.” “No matter how ‘proper’ you make it, I’ll never like you,” I replied coldly. “Well, who do you like then?” His voice was almost desperate. “Is there anyone better looking than me?” I fished out my keys, ignoring him. “Damon, I don’t like you, and I never will. You’re trash.” “Callie, you don’t have to be so harsh,” he said, trying to control his temper. I stared him down, saying nothing. “If you’re serious about law, you should submit your application soon.” I smirked, feeling a wicked sense of mischief. “Nah. I think I’d rather drive a tractor.” I watched as a vein throbbed in Damon’s temple. I unlocked the door, swinging it closed so forcefully that it nearly hit him in the nose. The next day, I got flooded with messages. Word had spread that “the heartthrob” had confessed to me, and everyone knew. Of course, Damon was the one spreading it. Mr. Everett called me multiple times, and after I ignored him, he finally got through. “Callie, you’re a good kid. I have no problem with you dating Damon.” He hadn’t minded in my past life either. Back then, I’d been happy he didn’t hold it against me that I hadn’t gotten into college. “My son has always wanted to study law and become a top lawyer. I’d love it if you could join him in that effort.” I smiled, a spark lighting up my eyes. “Sure.” Mr. Everett hesitated, then chuckled. “You agreeing is fantastic news.” I hung up and laughed. Playing along with them was going to be fun. Without me, Claire Bright would have no hope. I’d make sure no one else fell into their trap. Damon heard I’d agreed to be with him and rushed over. “Did you submit your application yet?” he asked immediately. “Not yet. Tomorrow.” Damon relaxed, looking relieved. “Want to come out with me?” Damon asked. “My friends are having a little get-together.” I nodded. “Sure.” Damon studied me, clearly thrown off by my sudden change in attitude. But that didn’t matter. He was the one with a time limit now, not me. Claire Bright was there too, and when she spotted me, she shot a dramatic eye-roll in my direction. I looked straight at her. “Claire, you got something wrong with your eye?” “What?” Claire blinked, caught off guard. “Why’re you rolling your eyes at me? Do it again, and I’ll poke them out for you.” Claire jerked to her feet, fuming, but Damon pushed her back down. “Claire, have some manners.” Her face turned red with anger. “Damon, I can’t believe you’d talk to me like that!” I raised my hand and slapped her across the face. Everyone froze, shocked. Claire cupped her cheek, and Damon’s expression changed immediately. “Callie Reid! How dare you hit me!”

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