Category: English

My mum had been widowed for years, but all of a sudden, she turned into a hopeless romantic. She became the other woman, fully aware of the man’s marriage, and in the end, she actually succeeded in winning over a married man. After living through it once, I swore I wouldn’t let my family be her emotional collateral again. But then, she ended up killing the man she loved with her own hands. 1、 Granny sighed with both concern and frustration. “What on earth is your mum thinking? Leaving you at home with a fever like this and running off, completely neglecting you.” I lay weakly on the hospital bed. “Mum’s gone to bring food to Mr. Dean. Granny, don’t be too hard on her.” “It’s just a fever,” I muttered, trying to make excuses for her, “I’ll be fine after taking some medicine.” I was pale, my voice hoarse, yet I still defended my mum. Mr. Dean was Mum’s new match from an arranged date. After my dad passed away two years ago, Granny had introduced James Dean to her. Mum fell for James at first sight, but she had no idea he already had a wife. James’s wife, Martha, was terminally ill. She wanted to find him a good woman who could take care of him and their son after she passed. It was her dying wish. And so, James had reluctantly agreed to start dating again. As absurd as the whole situation was, Mum sympathized with James. She thought it showed he had a strong sense of responsibility. Granny had scolded everyone involved—Mum, James, and the matchmaker. If it hadn’t been for me ending up in the hospital with a fever, Granny might have never found out they were still seeing each other. Mrs. Daisy Fletcher, our neighbour, sighed as she stood nearby. “If that poor child hadn’t crawled out of the house on her own, who knows what would’ve happened.” “She hasn’t even gotten a new stepdad yet, but it seems she’s already got a new stepmum.” Granny stroked my head gently and sighed again. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I lowered my head. But inside, I was laughing coldly. In my past life, Mum had thrown one sentence at me before rushing out of the door: “Lizzy, you’re old enough now to understand. Mr. Dean needs me, and I’ve got to help him.” She’d hurried off to bring James his food, leaving me at home, burning up with a fever that wouldn’t break. I’d tried to call for an ambulance, but I couldn’t find my phone. By the time she’d taken me to the hospital, the damage was done—my brain was permanently affected, and I became… slow. But this time, I’d fought through the fever, dragged myself to the door, and crawled out into the hallway, where I was lucky enough to run into Mrs. Fletcher… The door to my hospital room creaked open, and Mum barged in, already complaining. “Mum, why didn’t anyone tell me Lizzy had been taken to the hospital?” Mrs. Fletcher, who had long lost patience with Mum, didn’t hold back, not even in front of Granny. “All you ever think about is men. You’ve got no time for your daughter, do you?” “If I hadn’t found Lizzy when I did, her brain might have been damaged beyond repair, and you’d be none the wiser.” “You’re so desperate to please that man, you don’t even care about your own daughter anymore?” Feeling the stares of everyone in the room, Mum flushed with embarrassment but stayed silent. Granny, though annoyed, tried to soften things. “Well, Lizzy said she couldn’t find her phone. Why don’t you give her a call?” Mum, quick to take the lifeline, pretended to rummage through her bag. When she finally pulled out her phone, mine tumbled out with it. A look of guilt flashed across her face. “Ah, I must’ve picked it up by mistake.” And then I understood. Mum knew full well I was burning up with a high fever. But to avoid being disturbed, she’d taken my phone, cutting off my only way to call for help. Granny immediately grasped the situation, her expression turning thunderous. Mrs. Fletcher let out a loud, cold laugh. 2、 During my hospital stay, no one treated Mum with any kindness. After the first couple of days, when she made a brief visit to see me, she spent most of her time rushing off to see James, almost forgetting I existed. Soon enough, I was discharged from the hospital. On that day, Granny made sure to call Mum, warning her to come and collect me. Mum showed up reluctantly. Thanks to Mrs. Fletcher’s talent for gossip, it wasn’t long before Mum’s affair became the talk of Maplewood Estate. As we walked in, I could hear the neighbours gossiping. “I heard from Daisy that Lizzy’s mum’s seeing someone new.” “Well, that’s her choice, but couldn’t she find someone who wasn’t married with kids? Shameful.” “When her husband was alive, he treated her so well. And now she’s neglecting poor Lizzy like this. Disgraceful.” “Ah, she’s back. Best not say more…” Mum, though fuming, couldn’t deny the truth of their words. Granny’s expression grew darker, her silence ominous like the calm before a storm. In my past life, after I became slow, Mum had played the victim, always crying about how tough life was for a widow with a daughter to raise. Everyone pitied her. No one knew that when I’d had a raging fever, Mum was busy trying to please James and his family. Back at home, Granny finally confronted Mum. “So, what’s really going on between you and James Dean?” Mum shifted uncomfortably. “James has had it hard, you know. His wife can’t bear to leave him and their son behind. He just wants to give her peace of mind.” “Mum, do you have any idea how rare it is to find such a responsible man? He’s been so good to his wife, even as she’s dying. Just think how happy we’ll be once we’re married.” “I have to help him, Mum. I can’t let him carry the burden alone.” Mum’s face radiated determination, as if she were some kind of saint. Granny’s legs wobbled, and she sank into the sofa. “This is being a homewrecker. People will talk behind your back for the rest of your life.” “James might be struggling, but what about Lizzy? Doesn’t she deserve better?” By this point, Mum had heard enough. The guilt she’d been carrying had long been replaced by irritation. “James is a single father. He has to work and look after his wife and child. He’s exhausted. I’m just helping out by bringing him food and doing a bit of housework.” “And besides, Lizzy’s fine, isn’t she?” Mum had been spoiled growing up, never having lifted a finger to do chores. Even after marriage, Dad had treated her like a queen, and she’d rarely had to do much housework. Now, out of some misplaced sense of affection, she was playing housekeeper for a man who wasn’t even her husband. What a grand display of love. Granny lost her temper and slapped Mum hard across the face. Mum clutched her cheek, stunned. Then she burst into tears, lamenting how hard it had been since Dad died. While they were distracted, I grabbed Mum’s phone and scrolled through the records. Dozens of bank transfers. Some for thousands, some for tens of thousands. All paid to the hospital. “Mum, Dad’s gone. I can’t lose you too.” Mum panicked, but I held tight, refusing to let her take the phone back. Granny’s anger dissolved as she took the phone from me, her hands trembling. She scanned the screen, reading the records carefully. Her expression softened as she squeezed Mum’s hand. “Don’t be afraid. If you’re ill, we’ll get you treated, even if we have to spend everything we have.” Mum looked down, her lips pressed together in discomfort. 3、 Granny was frantic. She immediately demanded to see Mum’s medical records. Mum, of course, had nothing to show. She stammered and fumbled for an explanation. Granny, not suspecting anything, grabbed her arm. “Come on then, we’re going to the hospital. There’s nothing to be afraid of, Mum’s here with you.” Terrified of the humiliation, Mum glared at me before finally admitting the truth. She had spent Dad’s compensation money. The day Dad died, he’d been driving by The Thames Riverbank when he spotted a child drowning. He saved the boy but didn’t have enough strength left for himself. He drowned. The boy’s parents were wealthy and influential. They gave Mum a two-million-pound compensation payment in private. She hadn’t told anyone about it. That money should have lasted her comfortably for years. But Mum’s romantic obsession had taken over. One day, she found James crying, guilt-ridden that he didn’t have enough money to treat Martha. Seeing him vulnerable, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. So, she decided to help. That was how it started, and soon she had spent over a million on his wife’s medical bills. Later, when Granny and the family struggled financially, Mum didn’t offer a single penny. I only discovered all of this after I died. My soul had wandered aimlessly, watching as Mum and James stood hand-in-hand at Martha’s grave. James had gazed at Mum with deep affection. “Thank goodness for your late husband’s inheritance, Lizzy. It made sure Martha left us with dignity. You’re an angel to our family.” Mum blushed and leaned on James’s shoulder. I had wanted to tear her apart. But my soul slowly faded away… Granny, after hearing the whole story, didn’t even seem angry anymore. Just… disappointed. In her youth, she had lived through the hardships of the post-war period and had seen plenty of men abandon their responsibilities. So, she had always taught me and Mum to love ourselves first before loving anyone else. But Mum clearly hadn’t absorbed that lesson. “Your late husband’s life paid for that money. And this is how you’ve wasted it? Even if you’ve lost your senses, how could you not think of Lizzy?” Granny dragged Mum to The Royal Bank, forcing her to transfer half of the compensation to me. That was one million pounds. I had already looked at Mum’s spending history, though. She had poured hundreds of thousands into Martha’s hospital bills. After transferring that one million, there was hardly anything left. Perhaps realising this, Mum began struggling in front of the cashier. “This is life-saving money! Why are you taking it from me?” she wailed as if she were the victim of a terrible injustice. The bank fell silent. People began taking out their phones to record us. One woman, with a face full of righteousness, stepped in front of Mum to defend her. “Girl, if you’re being wronged, just call the police. This is a law-abiding society; we’ve got nothing to fear!” Granny seemed momentarily stunned by the situation. But I quickly caught on, and my tears began to flow. “Mum, this is Dad’s compensation. Granny said it should be saved for my education. Why did you spend it all on Mr. Dean? Dad, I miss you so much. If you were here, I could go to university…” Sobs wracked my body as I struggled to speak. The people around us began whispering. Their eyes now turned suspiciously towards Mum. Mum, growing desperate, snapped, “Lizzy! Mr. Dean is my friend. What’s wrong with spending some money to help his wife?” “This is all my fault for spoiling you and making you so selfish.” I pretended to be frightened and kept my voice steady. “But you’ve already spent half a million. Last time, you even said Mr. Dean was going to be my new dad. But I don’t want him to be!” Mum, speechless, stood frozen at the counter, weeping uncontrollably. The security guard tried to calm her down, but it was no use. The bank had no choice but to call the police. When the officers arrived, I took the opportunity to speak up. “Officer, I believe my mum is being scammed.” The officers grew serious and escorted us to the police station. James Dean was also summoned. He looked every bit the part of a nondescript middle-aged man—dishevelled hair, a worn expression, and nowhere near as distinguished as Dad had been. I explained the situation simply. “I think he’s been manipulating my mum, tricking her into paying for his wife’s treatment.” Mum was even more panicked than James. “No, no! It was my choice! He didn’t trick me.” Granny glared at James with disgust. “Officer, this man has been using some kind of charm to make my daughter lose her senses. It’s like she’s not herself anymore.” The officer fixed his stern gaze on Mum. “Was this a loan or a gift?” If Mum admitted it was a gift, the police would dig deeper into the case. After all, Mum had no family ties to James, and they’d only known each other for a short time. To anyone looking, this would seem like a clear case of fraud. But James spoke first. “I borrowed it from Sarah.” I interjected. “Where’s the IOU, then?” James hesitated. “It was a verbal agreement. I’ll write one up now.” After that ordeal, Mum looked at me with a coldness that cut deep. Funny, wasn’t it? Her own daughter had become a stranger to her. In my past life, James had spent Mum’s money without a second thought, never once mentioning paying it back. Mum had been delighted, thinking it meant he didn’t see her as an outsider. With the police’s mediation, Mum reluctantly completed the transfer. Granny, not trusting her, insisted that both of us move back into her house. Mum, still bitter, refused. Later, I heard that she couldn’t stand the neighbourhood gossip anymore and had moved into James’s house. She loved him and wanted to save him. So, she began living in his house, paying the bills, doing the laundry, cooking, and looking after his children, all while covering Martha’s medical expenses. People even praised her for it, calling her a “selfless lover.” But, Mum… now that half your money’s gone, will you still be the hero? 4、 That summer, I found peace living at Granny’s house. Without Mum around to constantly drone on about James, my world was finally calm. And Granny made sure to spoil me with delicious meals every day. I was content, focused only on distancing myself from Mum and respecting the fate of others. Uncle Rob still lived with Granny as well. “Big news!” he shouted one morning, bursting into the room with a wide grin. “I finally got the job!” Uncle Rob had just finished his master’s degree and had been job-hunting for months. Ironically, the company that hired him was the same one James worked for. At the time, Martha’s health was deteriorating fast, and James was frequently taking time off to visit the hospital. It seemed like he was on the verge of being fired. Mum had pitifully begged Uncle Rob to help James with his workload. Out of sibling loyalty, Uncle Rob had agreed. But, just as in my past life, the constant overwork had taken a toll on his health. He’d worked himself into the ground with months of overtime. And then he’d dropped dead. Grief-stricken, Grandpa had a stroke, leaving him paralysed. Granny’s hair had turned white overnight. Mum had shed a few tears before returning to James’s side, taking care of him and his family, saying, “James is really struggling with everything. Someone needs to be there for him.” She had left us to handle Uncle Rob’s funeral on our own. I remembered those days vividly—Uncle Rob bringing back treats for me, Granny dressing me up in pretty clothes, and Grandpa taking me for long walks in the park. This time, I would protect my family. That day, someone had recorded Mum’s outburst at The Royal Bank and posted it on TikTok. The marketing accounts quickly picked it up, twisting the story into sensational headlines: “Woman Becomes the Other Woman for Love – What’s So Special About This Man?” “Widow Spends Her Late Husband’s Million-Pound Compensation to Save Her Lover’s Terminally Ill Wife.” The marketing accounts must have paid well because Mum actually agreed to give her side of the story, providing an audio interview for the added drama. “I don’t care if my family doesn’t understand,” she said. “Yes, I love James Dean, but I still have my dignity. I’m not some homewrecker. I just wanted to help fulfil Martha’s final wish.” “The medical bills, I paid them willingly. It was my choice. I just wanted to ease James’s burden a little. He works so hard.” “I know I’m not being scammed. Martha told me herself, before she passed, that James and his son would rely on me after she’s gone.” The interview quickly made the rounds among people who knew Mum. Soon, familiar faces began calling. Grandpa, furious, could barely contain himself. He’d always been a man of pride, and now people were mocking the family, saying we had no moral compass. Granny, too, regretted not raising Mum with more discipline. She’d believed girls should be spoiled, never made to do housework, and given the best of everything. When she’d vetted Dad, she had tested him harshly, only agreeing to the marriage because he was responsible and kind-hearted. Granny had been so sure that Mum, having experienced the best kind of love, wouldn’t fall for some shallow fling. But despite it all, Mum had gone completely off course. 5、 After the summer holidays, I entered my final year of Sixth Form. If everything went well, I could get an automatic offer to university. Returning to school was tough. I wasn’t sure I could maintain my previous academic level, but I knew I had to give it my all. I moved into the school dorms, only coming home once every two weeks. When I did, Uncle Rob joked that I was becoming a rare sight, like a national treasure. But the dark circles under his eyes told a different story. “I’ve been working for two weeks straight,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Finally got a break.” Instantly, I grew anxious and insisted that we go to the hospital for a check-up. The results were as expected—I was simply tired, but Uncle Rob’s health was riddled with problems. He hadn’t even been working that long, but he already looked like he was being ground down. Uncle Rob shrugged it off. “Every young person’s got a bit of wear and tear these days.” But I refused to take it lightly. In my past life, it was overwork that had killed him. I pressed him for details about his job, not letting him get away with vague answers. Uncle Rob hesitated for a while, then finally told me the truth about the overtime. Immediately, I ran to Grandpa and Granny to report what was happening. Granny picked up the phone and called Mum, giving her an earful. Mum broke down into sobs. “Martha’s had several close calls, Mum. James is struggling so much. He’s terrified of not being there for her final moments.” “It’s all going to be one family in the end anyway. Can’t you help me help him?” Granny couldn’t hold back the curses any longer. “Are you out of your mind? What’s James Dean got to do with us? Your brother is young, but his health is falling apart, and you don’t even care?” Mum tried to justify herself. “He’s young. He’ll recover. Mum, are you sure I’m really your daughter?”

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Chris Harper and I had been married for five years, and in that time, he had dated at least ten girlfriends. So when Lily Parker showed up at his side, my friends all told me: “Chris is just having fun. Don’t take it seriously.” But I knew better. Chris was serious this time. More serious than anyone realized. “Hey, I heard it’s your wedding anniversary with Chris today.” “How about we make a bet? Let’s see who can keep Chris. Whoever loses will gracefully step aside.” That popped up in my text messages. It was a challenge from Lily Parker, Chris’s new girlfriend. I thought it was childish, so I didn’t respond. Instead, I smiled and returned to the Grand Ballroom at The Waldorf Astoria, where all eyes were on the star of the night. Chris noticed me immediately and smiled as he walked over, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You don’t look well.” Our friends nearby cheered us on, saying how Chris and I were still as in love as ever, how our marriage had withstood the test of time. Some joked, urging Chris to treat me well and not regret anything later. Chris navigated the crowd effortlessly, like a fish in water. I stayed by his side, the perfect accessory, putting on the appropriate smile. Halfway through the night, the host grabbed the microphone and invited Chris to come up and say a few words. Chris nodded and turned to me. “I have a gift for you,” he said. I smiled back. “Great.” The next second, his phone rang. The ringtone was jarring. Chris paused, hesitant, but after a moment, he continued toward the stage, picked up the microphone, and finished his greetings to the crowd. His eyes then locked onto mine. “Today is our fifth wedding anniversary.” “You once mentioned liking an island.” “I bought it for you as an anniversary gift.” His assistant handed him a contract, but as soon as it was in his hands, the phone rang again. The ringtone cut through the atmosphere like a knife, and I saw a flash of panic in Chris’s eyes. I turned to look behind me, and my heart skipped a beat. Standing on the outskirts of the crowd was the girl from the profile picture—the one I’d seen in the text message. She stood there, holding her phone, silently mouthing, “Answer it.” Her eyes were bright, but there was a faint mist over them. She mouthed the words again, “Answer the call.” Against my better judgment, I turned back toward Chris. The contract slipped from Chris’s hands as he answered the call. The girl’s voice, strained with emotion, echoed through the ballroom. “Chris.” “I’m breaking up with you.” There was a pause, then she dropped the bomb. “And I’m getting rid of this baby.” “Chris,” she continued in a soft, broken voice. “I don’t want you anymore.” And then, she hung up. The whole room went silent. No one noticed the girl in the simple white dress turning to leave after delivering her message. But Chris did. Not only did he notice, but without hesitation, he threw down the microphone and rushed out of the ballroom. The girl’s earlier challenge echoed in my mind: How about we make a bet? Let’s see who can keep Chris. Suddenly panicked, I lost all sense of decorum. Lifting the hem of my dress, I ran after him. I grabbed his hand, pleading, “Don’t go.” “Chris.” “Please, don’t leave.” I had always been composed, always the graceful Mrs. Harper. I was the girl Chris picked out of all the others in the foster care home, the one he chose to be the wife of the Harper family. I was the one who stayed by his side, even though I knew that our relationship was based more on years of growing up together than on passion. Yet, despite it all, I had fallen hopelessly in love with him. “Chris.” Tears streamed down my face. My voice broke. “Please, don’t leave.”

I held onto Chris’s hand so tightly that I was shaking. Then, I saw the disappointment in his eyes as he turned to face me. “Sarah,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “She’s different from you. She has nothing without me.” “You have everything,” Chris said, gently prying my fingers off. “But she only has me.” He let go of my hand. I fell to the floor, my newly done nails scraping against the carpet, splitting open as blood welled up from the cuts. The pain left me speechless. Chris hesitated for a moment when he saw me on the ground, but then, he turned and walked away. I couldn’t stop him, and I became the joke of the evening. Everyone tried to comfort me. “Chris is just used to running wild. He’s always had his flings.” “If he was going to settle down, he would have done it already.” “Sarah, don’t be upset. You and Chris grew up together. You’ve got years of history. No one can replace that.” “That girl’s just trying to use the baby to climb her way up. You’ve seen girls like her before. Don’t let it bother you.” Everyone kept telling me not to take it seriously. That Chris was just playing around. They told me not to invest my emotions. Some even suggested that I should play the same game, act weak, and beat the other woman at her own game. Everyone had an excuse for Chris. No one wanted to admit that Chris had actually fallen for her. But I knew. Chris was more invested than he’d ever been. The party ended early, and when I got home, Chris still wasn’t back. The maid had already made ginger tea and left it on the dining table. Beside it was a bouquet of roses Chris had bought earlier. The vibrant red of the roses only made me feel more pathetic in the quiet night. I went to the bedroom and saw our wedding photo. For a moment, I felt dazed. I walked over to the nightstand, took down the photo, and began cutting it into pieces with a pair of scissors. Then I smashed everything in the carefully decorated room in a fit of rage. Finally, I collapsed on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. I cried until midnight, when the room was pitch dark. The only light came from my phone, the screen piercing my eyes. I opened the message. It was from Lily. A picture of her and Chris holding hands. Then, a voice message. And some text. The voice message was their conversation. She asked him, “When you left your wife behind, do you think she’ll blame you? Am I being too selfish, forgetting my place?” Without hesitation, Chris responded, “No one is more important than you.” “As long as you’re okay.” “That’s all that matters.” Chris’s voice felt like a thousand needles piercing my body. My chest tightened in pain as I read Lily’s text. You lost. Chris doesn’t love you. Give up your place as Mrs. Harper. Don’t make this messier than it has to be. Chris didn’t come home that night. I didn’t care anymore. I’d cried myself dry. The years we spent growing up together were over, and I was the only one left clinging to the past. It was laughable. As I packed my bags to leave, my phone rang. Chris’s voice came through, hoarse. “Sarah, Lily’s young and immature. You’ve always been the understanding one, but last night, you really crossed the line.” “How could you embarrass me like that?” “I don’t want this to happen again.”

I used to love hearing Chris’s voice. My father was a gambler, and after he lost everything, he tried to force my mother to sell herself to pay off his debts. She refused, and one stormy night, she fled with me. My father chased us through the streets with a knife. In the end, she hid me in a trash bin at the alleyway’s edge, and I watched as my father hacked her to death that night. The downpour. The endless lightning. And my father’s eerie whistling, coaxing me out. Those moments haunted my nightmares for years. Every time there was a thunderstorm, Chris would hold me tight, gently patting my back, whispering, “Sarah, don’t be scared.” “I’m here.” For those years, Chris became my only emotional anchor. Naturally, he became the only light in my life. But last night, even with the storm raging outside and lightning flashing, Chris wasn’t the one comforting me anymore. He’d forgotten that I get scared, forgotten that I need someone too. He could wake up the next morning without any remorse, blaming me for making him look bad. If love is something that builds over time, then not loving is like flipping an hourglass. My hand trembled as I held my phone, staring at the now-clear sky, tears still spilling, my chest aching. But I had to maintain my dignity. I had to hold onto what little composure I had left. So I said to Chris: “The divorce papers are on the table.” “I’ll only take what’s rightfully mine. Nothing more.” Before he could respond, I hung up. I blocked his number and deleted his contact, breathing heavily as I realized that cutting ties with someone you’ve loved for so long was like weaning a child off milk. But that’s okay. I was willing to let time heal me. I was ready to move forward. I’d booked the next available flight. To Portland, Maine. The place I’d once dreamed of moving to with Chris, where I’d imagined us living a simple life. I had asked him once, naively, if we could ever just be a regular couple, living in a small town together until we grew old. Chris had laughed at my innocence but then turned serious. “I don’t want to be ordinary.” “Small-town life comes with no room for error, no risks to take.” “I want to be somebody.” “I want to make you somebody, someone everyone looks up to.” Back then, Chris seemed to glow like a hero—a real-life hero, at least to me. He achieved everything he set out to do. Even though he drifted through countless flings during our five years of marriage, no one dared to speak ill of me. He always protected me, never letting me get hurt by the women who came and went. We had an unspoken agreement. I would fulfill my role as Mrs. Harper, and he would always keep me in the most important spot in his life. That was enough. But I had forgotten something. Human nature is easily tempted. And when a new woman lights a fire in Chris, the flames will spread uncontrollably. My once-brave knight no longer fought for me but instead turned his sword toward me. I chose not to fight back. I chose to walk away, giving them what they wanted. And giving myself the freedom I needed.

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My mother favored my cousin and sent me away to a strict boarding school for “character building.” I was kidnapped, lost my legs to a cruel old man, and she remained indifferent. Only after death did I learn that she and my uncle were high school sweethearts, secretly involved for nearly twenty years. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to being six years old. I burst into the bedroom, exposing their affair, and immediately spread the news around the neighborhood. Mom panicked, while I was overjoyed. This time, I’ll make you pay for your sins! I was reborn, back to when I was six years old. The moment I realized I had been reborn, I sent the nanny away and tiptoed to open the bedroom door. Just as I thought! I saw my uncle Garrett naked, on top of a woman. The pearl bracelet on her wrist clearly revealed her identity – my mother! No wonder in my previous life, she had hired a nanny specifically for me, watching me 24/7, taking care of my every need. Later, she even sent me to a strict boarding school, claiming it was to “build character.” Eight years later, when I saw my mother again, I was in a hospital gown, sobbing as I rushed towards her, only to be pushed away. The disgust and embarrassment on her face made me doubt if I was even her child. It wasn’t until after I died that I learned the truth – she was afraid I might accidentally expose their affair, so she tried every way to keep me away! How about you taste the fear of public shame? In the bedroom were the intertwined shadows of a man and a woman. Looking at the condom wrapper on the floor, I picked it up, fighting back nausea, and ran excitedly to the neighborhood playground. “Look! I found a new balloon!” I shouted. A group of children gathered around me, asking all at once: “You’re lying! That’s not a balloon! My mom says it’s a bad thing! Throw it away!” “Eww, why is there so much goo inside?” Adults nearby also came over. Seeing what I was holding, their faces changed: “Aria, where did you get that? Don’t rummage through the trash!” “Aria, throw it away now!” I obediently did as they said, wiping my fingers on my clothes several times before raising my voice in feigned disappointment: “Mom and Uncle Garrett were playing with this balloon in the room and told me to go away. So I secretly took one, but it turns out it’s broken!”

As soon as I finished speaking, the elderly folks exercising nearby gathered around. The grandmas who had been chatting moments ago now focused intently on me, while parents hurriedly shooed their children away. “Your mom and your uncle? Are you sure you didn’t see wrong?” I stomped my foot as if angered, staring at the person who spoke, my childish voice making it impossible not to believe me: “How could I see wrong! They weren’t just playing with balloons, they were also playing a stacking game, with their backs to me, telling me to go away. They wouldn’t play with me. It’s so mean!” Someone in the crowd let out a snicker, followed by endless “pfft” and “haha” sounds. Mrs. Johnson, the most popular resident in our gated community, grabbed my hand and asked earnestly: “Aria, tell us more clearly so we can believe you. Then we can help teach your mom a lesson!” Hearing this, I was delighted. Teach her a lesson? I couldn’t wait! “I saw Uncle Garrett lying on top of Mom playing the stacking game. They messed up the whole bed, but… Mrs. Johnson, why do they have to be naked to play the stacking game?” Everyone suddenly had meaningful looks on their faces, exchanging glances and smiles, all seeming to understand. “What? Bullying our little Aria! We must have a word with them!” With that, Mrs. Johnson led a large group of people marching towards our house. Just before reaching the staircase, Mrs. Johnson called out: “Vanessa! Why are you angry with the child? Look, the poor thing is soaked in sweat!” Her footsteps quickened, “I’m coming up to get some clothes for the child!” The half-closed door was pushed open. The man was putting on his clothes, his bare upper body covered in sweat and scratch marks. The woman was wearing a dress, her eyes moist and face flushed. There was also an indescribable smell in the room. Everyone immediately understood what was going on, watching the drama unfold before their eyes. Mom clutched her chest and screamed, “Who told you to come in without knocking? This is trespassing, don’t you know?” Mrs. Johnson covered her eyes and exclaimed, “Oh my, at least put on some clothes before talking!” Someone couldn’t hold back, and suddenly the room was filled with stifled laughter.

My mom’s face turned beet red, while Uncle Garrett, now fully dressed, stood stiffly by the bed, his head hanging so low it almost touched the ground. I couldn’t help but smirk. Indeed, the most vicious wolves often wear sheep’s clothing. Uncle Garrett was financially dependent on his wife’s family. Usually timid and submissive, even his own son could walk all over him. Who would have thought he was the one who had fooled our entire family? “Her brother passed away, and Vanessa still let her husband live with her sister-in-law. I said it wasn’t appropriate. Look what happened, they ended up together!” someone in the crowd muttered. The words rang clearly in the silent room. Uncle Garrett silently tried to slip into the bathroom, but the gossip-hungry crowd wouldn’t let him leave. They held him back, asking in a friendly tone, “Garrett, what were you doing in Vanessa’s room? Are those red marks on your neck from mosquito bites?” Garrett kept his mouth shut, not saying a word. My mom, however, flew into a rage, throwing pillows from the bed at us one by one: “Get out! All of you get out! This is my house! You didn’t see anything! Don’t you dare say a word!” Only then did everyone leave, whispering and gossiping. No doubt this story would soon spread throughout the entire community. The door closed tightly, and their gazes fell on me – one furious, one vicious. “It’s all because of you! You little brat! Bringing them all here! Where’s Fiona? How was she watching you?” I was knocked down by a slap, and Mom grabbed my neck, asking hoarsely. The choking sensation in my throat brought no pain, only familiarity – Every time I made her angry, every time something didn’t go her way, she would use me as a punching bag. Once, I was almost strangled to death. In my previous life, I had also caught them having an affair and asked at the dinner table what they were doing in bed. The next day, I was sent to a strict boarding school under the guise of “character building,” to prevent me from saying anything in front of my aunt and others. My cousin had also heard it at the dinner table, and they decided to send Lucas to “toughen up” as well.

That was the beginning of all my nightmares. Later, I was tricked away, forced to be a child bride in someone else’s home, sleeping on grass, doing the work of oxen, and fighting with pigs for food. I was dragged to a pigsty by an old pervert in the village and molested. In my dazed state, I was caught in a hay baler, losing both my legs. It wasn’t until I made the local news that my aunt found out about all this and sent her people to find me. After returning home, I cried to my mother about the miserable experiences of those years, lamenting my lost legs. Mom just carelessly admired her new manicure, saying as if listening to a play, “Sounds like you had quite an adventure out there.” I was incredulous. In my emotional state, I couldn’t control my body, and urine spread beneath me, making her scream in disgust, calling me revolting. I grabbed her clothes, not letting her leave, but I fell to the ground. The filth under my hands and the pain in my body were nothing compared to the despair brought by her leaving without looking back. “Why, Mom? I’m your daughter!” I even secretly did a DNA test, which showed she was indeed my mother. The physical disability, the pain of not being able to take care of myself, the frustration of being illiterate – all of it plunged me into an emotional quagmire. Would Mom not be so disgusted with me if I were normal? Later, I actively worked on rehabilitation and studied hard. After coming of age, I took over the shares my father had left behind and formed a strong alliance with my aunt, who was expanding the business overseas. Mom started treating me with a smile, and I seemed to have a successful career and a happy family. Only I knew how many suicide attempts were hidden in the scars on my disgusting stumps and my scarred wrists. I could never get love. Even my cousin, who excelled in gambling and debauchery, could get the true love of Mom and Uncle Garrett. Why couldn’t I? It wasn’t until I died and became a spirit that I learned the truth. Mom and Uncle Garrett were high school sweethearts. They were just waiting for my cousin to grow up and my aunt to pass away so they could take over the company. They actually did it – they caused my aunt’s death, made my cousin listen only to them, and even brought back their own biological son. No wonder! No wonder! The year that child was born was the year I was kidnapped! While they were rejoicing in the birth of a new life, I was crawling and crying in darkness. “If you had another chance, could you change all this?” I heard a question from the depths of my soul. “I want them to suffer a fate worse than death!”

“It’s my fault for not watching Aria closely. Punish me!” Fiona’s voice pulled me out of my memories. I saw Mom and Uncle Garrett, dressed as impeccably as always, looking down at Fiona and me with unconcealed contempt and disgust in their eyes. “Get out, all of you!” Fiona carried me out of the room, applying medicine to my face with a worried expression. “Aria, why did you provoke her? Didn’t I tell you not to say anything in front of her? Oh dear, your face is all swollen.” Looking at her young face, I remembered that in my previous life, she blamed herself for not taking good care of me, leading to my kidnapping. She had resolutely devoted herself to the cause of finding missing children. After I was found, she took care of me meticulously, enduring all my unbearable behavior. “It’s okay, Fiona. Don’t cry,” I wiped the tears from her face. In this life, I won’t give those two scumbags any chance. Sure enough, gossip spreads faster than anything else. Even on my way to and from school, I could feel people whispering and looking at me with surprise and schadenfreude. I also became the center of attention in kindergarten – “Aria, is your uncle going to be your new daddy?” “Then you’ll have a new brother, right? That’s not good at all. I hate having a brother.” The innocent words of the children made me laugh, but they also revealed the information adults had been spreading. Having an affair with your brother-in-law was something the people in our community couldn’t accept. The aunties who used to play cards and go to beauty salons with Mom no longer called. Uncle Garrett didn’t even dare to leave the house, probably concocting some excuse to fool my aunt. Moreover, the residents of this community were either rich or powerful. The Ye Corporation was just an ordinary presence among them. They had only been extra kind to us because they pitied my aunt Imogen for losing her brother. Now they would avoid us like the plague, some even forbidding their children from playing with me. With an adult’s soul, I naturally didn’t care, but my cousin Lucas was different. He threw a tantrum in front of Mom and Uncle Garrett, rolling on the floor demanding they play with him. Uncle Garrett waved his hand grandly, “Lucas, do you want to see little ducklings? How about we go to Daddy’s hometown to see little pigs and ducklings?”

My cousin and I were sent to the village, but unlike my previous life, this time Fiona didn’t come with me. Before leaving, Fiona sewed a pocket inside my jacket and filled it with change. “Aria, if you can’t get used to the food there, remember to buy some snacks. Don’t go hungry.” When we first arrived, the villagers were all very nice to us. Even though Uncle Garrett’s mother didn’t take much care of us, she ensured we had three meals a day. However, I still went to the general store to buy things, quietly waiting for that moment to come. “Callum, come home for dinner!” someone called. A child next to me asked, “Aria, why doesn’t Callum have the same last name as Uncle Garrett?” “Because his dad is the bride who married into our family!” I replied. Callum angrily pounced on me, the strength of a four-year-old already too much for me to struggle free. “You bitch! My dad is not a bride!” I fought back, and we started wrestling. “Quick, go call Grandma!” The other kids all ran home to call for help, leaving only me and my cousin fighting at the edge of the woods. Suddenly, someone picked us up, one in each hand. It was him! Without hesitation, I took out the small knife from my pocket, seized the opportunity to slash him, and ran into the woods as he let go. Callum! It’s your turn this time! In my previous life, I had a chance to escape but didn’t have the heart to leave him behind when I heard him crying. I never imagined that the moment he was released, he would push me towards the kidnapper and run away himself! That moment of betrayal was etched in my memory, never to be forgotten. Later, I was sold to a mountain village, forced to be a wife to a mentally disabled man. Daily chores and beatings were common. I ate their leftovers, and on unlucky days, I could only lick the sauce from the bottom of their bowls or fight with livestock for pig feed. As I grew older, a nearly seventy-year-old widower in the village tried to take advantage of me. He dragged me to the fields to torture me, using the roar of a hay baler to cover the sounds. It was during that struggle that I lost my legs. When I woke up again, I was in a hospital. Looking at the emptiness below half of my thighs, I couldn’t process it. “Your legs were caught in the hay baler. Luckily, the machine malfunctioned and broke down, or it would have been questionable if you’d even survive.” “When we were matching blood types, we discovered you were listed as a missing person. Your family is on their way.” And so, at the cost of my disability, I escaped that hell.

In this life, Callum was kidnapped by the trafficker. I hid in the woods until the villagers came looking for us. “It’s terrible! Callum was taken away by a strange man! I couldn’t catch up with him!” I was brought back home. My mom cursed me all day, saying why couldn’t it have been me who was taken away. As she spoke, she and Uncle Garrett hugged each other for comfort. They seemed to have stopped hiding it altogether, going out on dates and trips together shamelessly, leaving me alone at home with Fiona. “Fiona, has Aunt Imogen said when she’s coming back?” I had Fiona call my aunt abroad immediately, telling her about the affair and Callum’s disappearance. Unfortunately, Aunt Imogen was in the middle of a big project and only instructed her assistant to file a police report and search for Callum. I wasn’t surprised by her coldness. In my previous life, even when Callum lost millions gambling and attended parties every day, she would only cut off his allowance. I used to think she was heartless, but after I died, she was the only one who cried for me. A week later, I came home from school as usual and saw Aunt Imogen standing on the second floor of the house. I approached curiously, only then hearing the chaotic sounds from the room. “Aria, go back to your room and don’t come out.” I went back to my room but didn’t listen to her. I left the door ajar and used a mirror to peek. I saw Aunt Imogen holding up her phone, seemingly recording video as she pushed open the door. Then there was a commotion, Mom’s screams, Uncle Garrett’s repentance, and the rustling of clothes being put on. “Garrett, let’s get a divorce.” Aunt Imogen’s voice was very calm, without a hint of sadness or anger. As an outsider, I couldn’t help but wonder – was there ever any real affection between them? “Imogen, it’s not what you think. It’s… it’s her who couldn’t stand the loneliness and seduced me. I was just confused for a moment. I’ve always loved you!” Uncle Garrett explained desperately, his tone as if the sky was falling. I couldn’t help but admire his acting skills. As expected of a professional freeloader. Hearing this, Mom cursed Uncle Garrett for slandering her, then cried about how she had remained faithful to my father for so many years without remarrying, how she had given birth to the eldest daughter for the Ye family, implying that even if she had no merit, she had suffered. Her words were all about money and shares. In her emotional state, she actually fainted.

“Vanessa, you’re two months pregnant,” Aunt Imogen calmly told my mom. I saw surprise, panic, and finally feigned regret and sorrow flash across Uncle Garrett’s face. “Imogen, this is all an accident. I didn’t mean to…” “Stop pretending, Garrett. Can’t you see she doesn’t care? She didn’t even care when Callum went missing, let alone about you!” Vanessa interrupted Uncle Garrett, looking smugly at Aunt Imogen. Ignoring Uncle Garrett’s attempts to stop her, she blurted out: “Since you’ve found out anyway, we won’t hide it anymore. Give me the shares your brother left before he died, and give Garrett half of your assets. We’ll leave immediately.” Aunt Imogen seemed to have heard a joke and smiled, “My brother left all his estate to Aria long before he passed away. As for Garrett and me, we signed a prenuptial agreement. He knows that.” Uncle Garrett’s face had turned ashen, but he still struggled desperately, “Callum, Callum can’t be without a father.” “It’s fine, I’ll find him a stepfather,” Aunt Imogen replied. Hearing Aunt Imogen walking towards the door, I quietly returned to my room. “Aria, would you be okay with Fiona taking care of you from now on?” Aunt Imogen knelt down to look at me. I nodded, but couldn’t help asking, “What about my brother? Aren’t you worried about him, Aunt Imogen?” A flash of disgust crossed Aunt Imogen’s face, but she didn’t lie to me, “Your brother has a genetic condition that scientists say can make people become bad. I don’t like him.” So that’s why! In my previous life, when I was found and gave my statement to the police, I discovered that my brother had never mentioned his experience of encountering the kidnapper with me, nor had he provided any clues. When I confronted Callum, he turned the tables on me, asking if I had ill intentions and wanted him to be kidnapped too. Mom and Uncle Garrett hid him behind them, looking at me with hatred. As if I were some kind of trafficking criminal. Later, when I learned he was involved in drugs and gambling, I thought it was because of Uncle Garrett’s indulgence. I never imagined it was a genetic issue! “I don’t like him either. He often hits me,” I smiled at Aunt Imogen, but couldn’t help testing her, “Does Aunt Imogen like me?” Aunt Imogen hugged me, “How could I not like Aria? You’re our Ye family’s precious treasure!”

Mom and Uncle Garrett, no, I should say Vanessa and Garrett, were kicked out of the Ye family. Aunt Imogen didn’t go to extremes. She gave them enough wealth that ordinary people would dream of, sufficient for them to live comfortably into old age. I started elementary school and, thanks to my memories from my previous life, I skipped grades repeatedly. By the age of twelve, I was already in high school. I showed a unique sensitivity to the market, and Aunt Imogen agreed to let me audit company affairs. After I offered several key insights, I gained everyone’s recognition. At a young age, I led the Ye Corporation’s domestic business to double in size. This also lightened the burden on Aunt Imogen, who now frequently returned to the country to see me. Through our interactions, I gradually came to understand Aunt Imogen – She was not only cold on the outside and warm on the inside, but also had a strong sense of responsibility. Every year on my father’s death anniversary, she would take me to pay respects, reminiscing about her childhood moments with her brother. Miss Jones “When we were young, you said we’d team up and crush other companies. Now your daughter has done it, but it’s a pity you can’t see it,” she would always say, with a hint of unfulfilled regret. The year I successfully entered the country’s top university at fifteen, the Ye Corporation had already become the leading enterprise in the area, and I was respectfully referred to as “Young Miss Jones.” My college admission celebration also invited many CEOs, all praising me for my achievements at such a young age. “Miss, there’s a man and a woman outside begging to see you. They say they’re your mother and uncle,” an assistant informed me. I raised an eyebrow, gave a few quiet instructions, then picked up my wine glass and continued chatting and laughing with the guests. After the party ended, I went to the storage room. “Miss, they’re tied up inside,” the assistant reported.

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To avoid harassment from my ex-boyfriend, I planned to stay at my brother’s apartment for a few days. I didn’t expect to be blocked at the door by my brother’s girlfriend, who then slapped me hard across the face. She spoke to me in a sarcastic tone, “Wow, what a boundary-less sister-in-law! How dare you stay in your brother’s place?” “A total deadbeat, not working hard to help Nathan earn a dowry, just sleeping in all day.” “You must be messing around out there, which is why your boyfriend dumped you…” Seriously?! What a psycho! This property title is in my name, okay? My brother Nathan Freitt is seven years younger than me and currently in college. Six months ago, he asked if he could borrow my two-bedroom apartment in Chapel Hill because his roommate snores and keeps him up at night. Since the place was sitting empty, I gave him two spare keys and told him to stay in the guest room and not to enter my room. He eagerly agreed. A couple of days ago, I discovered that my ex-boyfriend cheated on me. After the breakup, he kept showing up outside my office building and my apartment complex every day. To get some peace, I handed over my work to my assistant and decided to stay at my brother’s place for a while. On Thursday afternoon at 4 PM, Nathan should still be in class, so I didn’t tell him and just dragged my suitcase over. But to my surprise, I found that no matter how hard I tried, my key wouldn’t unlock the door. Could Nathan have changed the locks without telling me? Just as I was about to pull out my phone to ask Nathan what was going on, the door suddenly clicked open. Standing there was a girl with perfect makeup, wearing a cute, fuzzy pink bunny onesie. That onesie looked familiar; it seemed like something I had bought as a spare. But right now, I didn’t have time to figure out why this girl was wearing what looked like my pajamas. What I really needed to know was why she was in my home! As I frowned at her, she looked me up and down with an expression that was anything but friendly. “Hi…” I tried to ask what was going on, but she interrupted me. “Are you serious?! You’re here trying to break into my house? Do you think I won’t call the cops and have you arrested?” ??? I stood there, confused and taken aback. Just as I pulled off my scarf to show my face and understand what was happening, I felt a sharp sting on my left cheek. At the same moment, the door slammed shut, sending a breeze across my burning face. I was seething with anger as I took out my phone. My gut told me this was all Nathan’s doing. [Me: Nathan, what did you do with my house?!] [Nathan: Sis? What’s wrong?] [Me: I just got slapped by a woman in my pajamas who’s in my house.] [Nathan: Why did you show up so suddenly?] [Me: You better explain this to me quickly.] Nathan seemed surprised and panicked, taking a few minutes to respond. [Nathan: Sis, there’s probably a misunderstanding. I had my girlfriend open the door for you. I’ll explain when I get back from class; don’t be mad.] Don’t be mad? How am I supposed to not be mad after being slapped and locked out of my own house? Wait… girlfriend? Nathan is dating someone? And they’re living together? In my house?!

I waited outside for another ten minutes, but Nathan’s girlfriend still didn’t come to let me in. As a graduate from a prestigious university who started a successful business with my best friend, I was now a bona fide female CEO. With my impressive grades and affluent background, I had always been pampered growing up. It was the first time someone had disrespected me like this, and I couldn’t just let it go. Unfortunately, I really couldn’t get into the house, so I dragged my suitcase to a coffee shop downstairs to wait for Nathan. During this time, Nathan kept sending me apology messages. [Nathan: Sis, she definitely didn’t mean it; don’t be mad.] [Nathan: There must be some misunderstanding; just calm down.] I ignored him. An hour later, a disheveled Nathan rushed into the coffee shop, scanning the room until he quickly spotted me in the corner. He approached me with a smile plastered on his face. “My lovely, charming sister, I knew you wouldn’t be upstairs, so I figured you’d be here!” Nathan grabbed my suitcase, saying, “Let’s go, Sis.” I shot him a glare, my anger bubbling under the surface, and followed him upstairs. In the elevator, Nathan kept trying to charm me. “Sis, I just got back and had a talk with Amber. Don’t be mad; don’t stoop to her level.” Seeing him like this, I could understand; after all, they were supposed to be enjoying their time together as a couple, and me showing up probably made things awkward for them. But this girl was taking it a bit too far. I decided that if she apologized sincerely, I could overlook this whole incident. Nathan quickly agreed. Once we entered the apartment, I found Amber lounging on the sofa, her bare feet propped up on the coffee table I had meticulously chosen during renovations. She was munching on sunflower seeds and watching some reality show, laughing out loud from time to time. Sunflower seed shells were scattered everywhere, and there were piles of orange peels and several empty soda cans on the table. The elegant artwork that once hung in the living room had been replaced with posters of boy bands I didn’t even recognize. I couldn’t believe this was the apartment I had handed over to Nathan. “Amber, this is my sister, Jessica,” Nathan said, giving her a knowing glance before turning to me with a nervous smile. “Jessica, this is my girlfriend, Amber Johnson.” I regarded the girl before me, who was practically the definition of rude. “Hi, sister,” Amber said, barely looking at me. “I asked you to let my sister in; why didn’t you?” Nathan asked her, glancing nervously at my expression. “And about that misunderstanding, hurry up and apologize to my sister!” Only then did Amber glance my way. After scanning between me and Nathan, she smirked, “I didn’t realize your sister liked to wear matching scarves with you!” That’s when I noticed Nathan was wearing the scarf I had given him. I hadn’t purposely given him that scarf; it was a mix-up when I ordered a couple online. The seller mistakenly sent me two, and since I didn’t want to deal with returning it, I just kept both. I had planned to give the extra one to my best friend, but Nathan had seen it and said he needed one, so I just handed it over. Siblings wearing matching scarves isn’t that strange, right? And because of this, I was slapped and locked out of my own home? Unbelievable…

After hearing that explanation, I could somewhat understand Amber’s actions; she probably thought I was a homewrecker. She was just a bit petty, being in the honeymoon phase of her relationship, so I forced myself to be understanding. I turned to Nathan and asked why he had changed the locks. If my key had worked, none of this would have happened, and I wouldn’t have gotten slapped for no reason. Nathan hesitated before explaining, “Well… I forgot my keys at school the other day and had to call a locksmith. For safety’s sake, I had the locks changed.” Amber chimed in sarcastically, “Who would feel safe knowing someone else has a key to our place?” The only keys to this apartment, besides Nathan’s, are mine. Not even our parents have a key. This is my house; am I an outsider? She really doesn’t see herself as an outsider? Seeing I was about to explode, Nathan quickly jumped in to defend Amber. “Hey, sis, don’t think too much about it. Amber just meant the locksmith.” Looking at Nathan’s panicked defense of Amber, it was clear he really liked her. Nathan was twenty years old, and this was the first time I realized he was dating someone. Oh well, as long as he likes her. Amber probably just had low emotional intelligence and a lack of manners. Besides, it’s not like I’d be living with her; if Nathan can handle it, that’s all that matters. I didn’t say anything and pulled my suitcase toward the master bedroom. The door was open, revealing a messy space filled with signs of life. Before I moved out, I had left an entire set of unopened La Mer skincare products on my vanity, but now it was all used up. The clothes, shoes, bags, and jewelry I had prepared in the closet had all been used, and given that Amber was wearing my pajamas, it was clear that Nathan and Amber had moved into my room. “Amber, since Nathan calls you that, I’ll call you that too,” I said, peeking into the master bedroom with a polite smile. “If you need skincare products, clothes, shoes, bags, or jewelry, just let me know. I can give you some that suit you, but using my things without permission—how am I supposed to use them when I arrive?” Surprisingly, Amber didn’t show any sign of remorse or intent to apologize. Instead, she looked at me and said, “You’re so calculating.” “Well, you’re not married yet. No matter how much you earn, it’s all for Nathan’s wedding. I’m his girlfriend, so everything here technically belongs to me, right?” I swear I’ve never met someone as shameless as Amber. Not a person, but a whole different species! Nathan rushed over to pull me into the master bedroom, whispering, “Sis, Amber’s upbringing is rough. Her family favors boys over girls, so she’s a bit starved for love. Don’t take it too personally!” I held back my frustration and ordered Nathan, “Quick, gather your things and move them to the guest room!” Nathan nodded eagerly, “Okay, okay!” As Nathan moved their things from the master bedroom to the guest room, Amber repeatedly tried to say something but was stopped by Nathan’s glare. She then plopped down on the sofa and started rolling her eyes dramatically. I was worried she might actually flip herself over.

I thought Amber would finally calm down. After all, I was only planning to stay a few days. If I weren’t allergic to pet hair, I would’ve gone to my best friend’s place directly, but her boyfriend’s dog was temporarily staying there, so I had to come here. I didn’t mind Nathan dating; I was too busy to keep tabs on them. With my relentless encouragement, Nathan had developed impressive cooking skills, so naturally, he prepared dinner. The table was filled with all my favorite dishes: Southern-style pork, sweet and sour ribs, roasted chicken, stir-fried chives and eggs, cauliflower with ham, braised lamb, and my favorite spicy shrimp! “Eating so heavy at night? No wonder you got dumped!” “Why are there chives? They get stuck in your teeth!” “Nathan! Why did you make lamb? The smell is unbearable!” As soon as the dishes were served, Nathan hadn’t even had a chance to take off his apron when Amber started picking food off the plate and shoving it into her mouth. While we weren’t a rich family, we still had decent manners. I frowned slightly at Amber’s behavior but said nothing. Everyone comes from different backgrounds, and lifestyle habits vary; those can change over time. Hearing Amber complain, I thought maybe Nathan overlooked her tastes since he wanted to impress me and had ignored what she liked. Just as I was about to reprimand Nathan for his lack of etiquette, he spoke up. “Didn’t you ask for at least two meat and two vegetable dishes for dinner? It’s been a while since my sister ate my cooking, so I made a few extra dishes.” “Didn’t you say eating chives is good for your health and you should have them every day?” “Didn’t you say yesterday you wanted to eat braised lamb?” Oh, great! So this whole dinner was a subtle attack aimed at me! Under Nathan’s silent pleading, I decided not to stoop to Amber’s level and put on some disposable gloves to start peeling shrimp. Maybe I hadn’t given Amber the reaction she was hoping for because, after just a few bites, she started acting up again. “Nathan, I want shrimp!” Nathan patiently peeled a few shrimp and placed them on her plate. “This girl needs peeled shrimp; peeling shrimp herself is too low-class!” Was that a direct jab at me? If I cater to you, I might as well take your last name! But before I could swallow my shrimp and say anything, I witnessed something that shocked me to my core.

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After a month of relentless heat and drought, the temperature finally began to drop. Karen, my neighbor, saw me moving out and sneered, “What’s this? Finally decided to get lost?” Little did she know that our neighborhood was about to become an isolated zone of high-temperature acid rain. Those who couldn’t escape were doomed to die. I woke up from a nightmare, the pain of acid rain corroding my skin and bones still lingering, causing me to shiver uncontrollably. In the dream, a strange acid rain fell, residents scattered to escape, only to find that the neighborhood was covered by an invisible dome. Those inside couldn’t get out, and those outside couldn’t get in. I’ve always had a habit of hoarding things, so I could barely manage with the food I had at home. Karen, the neighbor downstairs, had a good relationship with me, so when I heard her plea for food, I immediately opened the door. But I never expected that Karen’s family was waiting at the door. As soon as I opened a crack, they violently pushed their way in. They ransacked my stored food and drinking water, tied me up, and pushed me out of the building. The acid rain fell on my body, corroding my skin into blisters. I cried out in pain and despair in the rain, trying to awaken a shred of conscience in them. They just gave me a cold look, “You little bitch, you were hiding quite a lot! It’s enough for our family to live on for a while!” My voice gradually grew weaker. The laughter of Karen’s family was still piercing, mixing with the sound of rain to form a horrifying symphony. Since heaven has given me this chance, I must survive at all costs.

After graduating from college, I went to work in another city. My parents, wanting me to live comfortably, bought a small two-bedroom apartment near my workplace. On the first day I moved in, Karen, the neighbor, came to talk to me proactively. She was the security guard for this area, her husband worked at the same company as me, and she had a son in high school preparing for his final exams. Being new to the city, Karen’s enthusiasm made me feel welcome. After learning that her husband worked with me, I let my guard down even more. Our company had good benefits, often distributing fruits and flour during holidays. I always used the excuse of living alone to give part of my benefits to her family. She would always accept them with a smile, not forgetting to compliment me. Looking back now, Karen seemed to always be taking things from me, but never gave me anything in return. Those light compliments were far less substantial than actual material goods. I couldn’t help but recall the pain of slowly losing my life in the acid rain in my dream. The moonlight outside the window flowed slowly, the neighborhood was peaceful, showing no signs of the hell on earth that would come in half a month. Karen’s cursing voice next door was particularly clear: “I must have been blind to marry into this family, I’m so unlucky to live with you people, a husband who doesn’t strive for success, a son who doesn’t study, how can my life be so miserable!” Then came the sound of dishes and bowls being smashed. I took out my phone and sent Karen a voice message on SnapChat, “You’re really noisy, even if your family life is bad, you shouldn’t disturb others in the middle of the night.”

Perhaps my sudden change surprised Karen for a moment. After half a minute of silence, Karen started smashing tables and chairs at home with renewed vigor. “Fine, you all bully me, and you, little bitch next door, don’t be so smug, you’ll have your day of misfortune!” Neighbors nearby were gradually woken up by the noise, but everyone tacitly remained silent. I should have realized earlier that in this neighborhood, no one associated with this family. Only I was still foolishly being kind to them. Realizing that no one was responding to her, Karen’s noise gradually died down. As soon as I woke up, I sent a message to a real estate agency, asking them to keep an eye out for a house nearby but in a different neighborhood. I needed to move. In the days before moving, I definitely couldn’t let Karen’s family have a comfortable life. The pain I suffered had to be returned in full.

The high temperature of over 40°C (104°F) had lasted for more than half a month. The company boss, considering the difficulty of employees coming to work, had arranged for an early vacation. I set an alarm for 4 AM, planning to go to a distant market to buy some living supplies first. Even though the days of acid rain might not affect me after moving out, I still needed to prepare for the abnormally high temperatures in the coming months. Although it was still half dark when I left home, I felt a wave of high temperature as soon as I stepped out. I quickly drove to the market, bought freeze-dried vegetables, sausages, and bottled water from several scattered stalls, then went to supermarkets and convenience stores to buy instant food and sanitary napkins and other daily necessities. Only after filling the trunk and back seat to the brim did I finally feel at ease. On the way back to the city, the real estate agent called me, saying there was a house for sale nearby. It wasn’t large, and because it was old, the price was cheap. I stopped the car by the roadside and talked to the agent on the phone, roughly understanding the situation of the house. The owner of the house lived abroad permanently and had only recently thought of selling the house. The landlord was cheerful and said that if I decided to buy, I could move in first, and the transfer procedures could be completed after he returned to the country. After repeatedly thanking the landlord, I moved the supplies I had bought into the new house.

When I returned to the neighborhood after moving the supplies, Karen was sitting in the shade of a tree to cool off. The continuous high temperature made the rooms very stuffy, and Karen, being of a stingy nature, absolutely wouldn’t turn on the air conditioning. Karen glanced at me coldly, muttering to herself, “You little bitch, still wandering around in such hot weather, you’ll be cooked into an idiot sooner or later.” I didn’t respond to her. Seeing this, Karen immediately became smug, “Little bitch, you don’t dare to speak after being scolded a couple of times. You’ve clearly been educated into stupidity, not as smart as my son.” I stood still under my parasol, staring at her. Karen became a bit nervous, “Little bitch, what are you standing there like a stick for?” I took out my phone, pointed at the camera by the building, and said, “When I first moved in, I was worried about the security here, so I paid to install this camera. I’ve recorded all the videos of you cursing just now. You wouldn’t want this video to appear in the neighborhood group chat and your husband’s work group, would you?” Karen stood up at once, looking like a short, dumpy bread man. She angrily pointed at me for a while: “You… you…” I replied with a smile: “Pretending to stutter isn’t good.” Karen was so angry that she wanted to walk out of the shade to hit me, but her legs were numb from sitting for too long. She tripped over her own feet, losing balance and falling flat on her face. Her left cheek touched the ground directly, and the scorching ground immediately blistered her skin. She tried to support herself up with her hands, grimacing, but her arm strength was simply not enough to support her body. The parts of her palms and arms that touched the ground quickly turned red, and she instinctively cried out “Ouch, ouch!” Her “good” son heard the commotion upstairs and ran down in slippers. There was a small step at the entrance of the building, and he stumbled, falling right on top of Karen. I couldn’t help but gasp, “What a beautiful scene.” Karen was in too much pain to speak now. She tried to push her son away, but the weight of a 200-pound grown man was not something an old woman could move. I sighed, took my phone, and went upstairs. Half an hour later, the property management staff found Karen and her son, and it took a great effort to pull them up. I roughly understood from the intermittent cursing from downstairs. — Karen’s son had fractured a bone, and the two of them had been baked into human jerky before someone came to rescue them.

Just as night fell, I heard someone frantically knocking on the door. I knew right away that it must be Karen’s family coming to make trouble. I bit into an ice pop and went to the door, looking through the peephole. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud when I saw two people wrapped up like mummies. Hearing my laughter, Karen angrily slapped her thigh. Probably because her eyesight was poor after the fall, she slapped her son’s freshly fractured leg. A high-pitched male soprano lit up the motion-sensor lights of the entire building. The man who had just returned from work looked helplessly at their farce, “Have you had enough? If you’ve had enough, hurry back home. Are you trying to make sure everyone at our company knows about your misdeeds?” Karen cried out, “What have we done? It’s clearly this little bitch who’s shameless! She’s the one who cursed us for no reason! You heartless man, instead of standing up for us, you’re helping outsiders!” The man angrily slapped Karen’s arm, “The property management has already told me everything. You were clearly the one who cursed her first! I’m still trying to get ahead in the company, hurry up and get downstairs.” The man cursed as he led Karen downstairs, the son hopping alone behind them. Looking at the state of their family, the anger in my heart subsided a bit. The acid rain was coming soon, and I needed to move out in the shortest time possible.

In the following days, I went out early every day to purchase living supplies, and packed my luggage late at night, completely reversing my schedule with others. Looking at the refreshed old house, I breathed a sigh of relief. The north-facing bedroom had been converted into a storage room, filled to the brim with various necessities. In my spare time, I prepared power banks and books, and downloaded many songs, variety shows, and web dramas onto a hard drive. After all, I didn’t know how long the high temperature weather would last, and I needed to find something to do. With everything prepared, I started to casually hint to nearby neighbors that my work was being transferred and I would soon be living in a new city. These days, the temperature seemed to be dropping slightly, and I knew that the acid rain was coming. Finally, on the day before the acid rain came, I loaded the remaining items into the car, ready to bid farewell to this place for good. Karen was still sitting in the shade of the tree, eyeing me sideways. The burns on her face hadn’t healed properly, making her look particularly comical: “What? Finally going to get lost?” I said, “Yes, you’ll never see me again.” Sitting on the sofa in my new home, a light rain started to fall. The rain had finally come.

Through the rain curtain, I could see a transparent barrier rising around the neighborhood I used to live in, extending from the ground all the way up into the cloud layer. The leaves quickly turned yellow and fell off under the rain’s wash. As raindrops hit the cement ground, a strange white smoke rose. The internet was in an uproar, and the local police department quickly issued several announcements. “Due to the current abnormal weather, please stay quietly at home and wait for further notice. Do not go out! Do not go out! Do not go out!” Karen quickly commented under the announcement: “You tell me not to go out and I won’t go out? My family’s living expenses depend on my husband going to work! You heartless police, just trying to avoid responsibility by troubling the citizens!” The police department ignored her and continued to post messages calling for people to stay indoors. Seeing no one responding to her, Karen became even more agitated: “I’m going out anyway, it’s so cool outside in the rain!” The police department finally got annoyed: “Dear netizen, it’s acid rain outside. For your own safety, please stay at home.” Karen continued to bombard with comments: “You say it’s acid rain and it’s acid rain? I’m going out anyway! I’m going to start a live stream, I’ll fight it out with those bastards at the police department today!” With that, Karen posted a live stream link to the neighborhood group chat. I switched to a small account and clicked into the live stream. There were already dozens of viewers in the stream, and looking at the nicknames, they were mostly residents of the neighborhood. Karen went downstairs holding her phone, not even bothering with an umbrella. “Hello everyone in the live stream, I’m going out in the rain now. Why won’t the police let us go out!”

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Because of my kindness toward a dog, I was gifted $5 billion. All I had to do was spend it, and my liver cancer would miraculously disappear. I stared at the balance on my phone, wiping away my tears. If I could spend to my heart’s content before I die, it was worth it! The day I was diagnosed with liver cancer was Christmas. The streets were filled with the sound of Christmas carols, and the atmosphere was lively and cheerful. I drifted down the street with the lab results in my hand. “Liver cancer, late-stage” were the words glaring at me from the medical report. The doctor’s words still echoed in my mind. “If there’s something you want to do, do it quickly.” “Treatment isn’t going to help you. You only have a few months.” I had sensed something was wrong with my body for a while, so the news wasn’t a surprise. There was just this feeling of, “Well, that figures.” Maybe it was the years of overworking. Maybe it was all the dinners and drinks with clients. Maybe it was the malnutrition from my teenage years catching up to me. My phone screen lit up. It was a message from my boyfriend, Tyler Martin. [Baby, I have to work late tonight. I can’t spend Christmas with you.] I looked up and saw two people locked in an embrace, not far away. So, this was what he meant by “working late.” Suddenly, being cheated on didn’t seem like such a big deal in the face of death. But did he really have to flaunt it in front of me? I walked up to them and yanked the two of them apart. A loud slap landed square on Tyler’s face. “Working late?” He looked stunned. He turned to see me, his eyes wide with shock, and just as he was about to explode in anger, I slapped him again, this time across his right cheek. “Working late with her face?” I had fallen for that gentle, nerdy face of his. He seemed cultured and sweet. Sure, he had his faults—he wasn’t exactly strong, and he had a ton of quirks—but I liked him anyway. So, I played the naïve girlfriend for three years. Who would’ve thought he’d turn out to be such scum? I still wasn’t satisfied. I raised my hand and slapped him once more. This time, he lost it, clenching his fists and charging at me, breathless with rage. I kicked him square in the chest, and he stumbled back a few steps, gasping for air, unable to form coherent words. “Carrie Mitchell, are you insane?!” I smirked. “Yeah, I am. I’m dying, actually.” I kicked him again, sending him sprawling to the ground. Tyler lay there, groaning in pain, barely able to breathe. I stepped on him, grinding my foot into his chest for good measure, and glanced around at the crowd forming nearby. People were starting to gather, some even pulling out their phones to record the scene. “I’m just dealing with a cheating scumbag. Any of you want to defend him, or do you want to be next?” As soon as the words left my mouth, the crowd scattered. Soon, it was just me and the pale-faced girl standing there. She looked young, probably just graduated from college. “How long have you been dating him?” She mumbled, “Not even six months.” “Did you know he had a girlfriend?” The girl shook her head furiously, eyes wide. “No! Not until now! I’m done with him! I swear!” I nodded in approval. “Then what are you waiting for? Leave.” “Right! Right, I’m going! Wishing you—” I cut her off, annoyed. “Don’t bother wishing me anything. I don’t have a thing for secondhand men.” Once the girl was gone, I grabbed Tyler by the collar and dragged him to the railing. I was strong by nature, and a few years of martial arts training had made sure I could handle someone like him without breaking a sweat. “Now let’s talk about us.” “We’ve been together for three years. How much have I spent on you?” Tyler’s face was swollen and red, looking nothing like the clean-cut guy I used to like. “Uh… maybe $30,000? No, wait, $50,000.” “Are you sure?” “And the $30,000 you loaned me. So, $80,000 total.” “No interest?” Tyler quickly changed his answer. “Okay, okay! $100,000! I owe you $100,000!” I stuffed my medical report back into my coat pocket. “Pay up. Cash or transfer?” “Transfer, transfer!” I stared coldly at him. “Don’t forget to add a note.” He flinched and immediately added a note before shakily entering his password to make the transfer. My phone buzzed with the notification. $100,000 received, labeled as “Repayment.”

Before leaving, I gave him one last chance. “Do you need me to call the cops for you?” Tyler was trembling like a leaf, looking pitiful. “No! I, uh, fell. I haven’t seen you today!” I lost interest. “Fine then.” “I like your hands. It’d be a shame if they got broken because you didn’t behave.” “Now get lost.” Tyler stumbled to his feet and fled. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my body, and I could barely stand. Sweat poured down my face as I crouched, hugging my knees. It took a while for the pain to pass. I slowly made my way home, but then my mom called. “Carrie, you haven’t sent this month’s money yet.” My heart sank to the bottom. I finally realized how meaningless all my efforts for my family had been. I was dying. Yet the only thing my family cared about was why I hadn’t sent money this month. These were the people I’d been planning to leave my inheritance to. “What, is $5,000 a month not enough for you and Dad?” “It’s enough, but your brother just graduated. He needs to pay rent, and he’s got a car loan. He’s short on cash.” I scoffed coldly, “So now I’m the ATM? What am I, his parent?” Her voice immediately rose. “Carrie Mitchell, how can you say that? Don’t forget, when you were a kid, your brother saved your life!” Saved me? David was two years younger than me but always better fed and healthier. He pushed me into the river because I wouldn’t let him ride on my back like a horse. Mom, Ellen, knew the truth. But she had used that story to guilt-trip me my whole life, making me feel like I owed them everything. Out of love for my family, I kept quiet about it. But now, I no longer had to. I cut her off, “Do you think I don’t remember?” “Maybe I should ask Uncle Wayne, the one who actually saved me, what he thinks.” Mom fell silent. She tried to start yelling again, but I didn’t give her the chance. “I’ve kept records of every transfer. I paid for the house’s down payment and mortgage too.” “I’ve repaid what you spent raising me. You’ve got enough for retirement.” “If you still want to make a fuss, I’ll make sure your precious son pays for it.” “We’ll see who cares more.” Her angry curses filled the phone. I hung up and blocked all contact with them. A sense of calm settled over me. All the resentment I’d bottled up for years suddenly seemed insignificant in the face of death. In my final months, all I wanted was to treat myself better. As I walked through Briarwood Alley, I heard a rustling behind me. Under the dim streetlight, a hulking man with a scruffy beard was approaching, holding a knife. Despite his efforts to seem calm, his hands were shaking. A newbie? I said, “Are you robbing me?” “Y-yeah, but aren’t you scared?” I cut him off. “Would $5,000 be enough? Give me your number, I’ll send it over.” Better to give it to this guy than let my family drain me dry. The man looked confused. I grabbed his hand, fished out his phone, and pulled up the payment screen, transferring $5,000 to him. He still hadn’t recovered from the shock. I frowned. “Is $5,000 not enough? Asking for more would be rude.” “W-why are you being so cooperative?” Honestly, he seemed kind of dumb—like a big bear with a scruffy face. I pulled out my medical report. “See this? Stage four liver cancer. I’m terminal.” The man’s face changed, and tears welled up in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away and transferred the money back to me. Then, he pulled out a wad of cash from his pockets and stuffed it into my hands. “I’m sorry, sis! My grandpa had cancer too. I didn’t know what else to do.” “Please, get treatment! You’ll be okay, I swear!” He hurried off, still crying. I stared at the crumpled bills in my hands, feeling a lump rise in my throat. A stranger had more compassion for me than my own family ever did.

Near the trash cans by Oakwood Apartments, I found a stray dog, its fur matted and filthy. Something tugged at my heart. I took off my coat, wrapped the little dog in it, and rushed it to the Brooklyn Veterinary Clinic. Thankfully, I brought it in just in time, and they managed to save its life. As I was carrying the little dog back home, I noticed someone following me. Another mugger? I spun around. It was an older man, his hair streaked with gray, and he looked tired and worn out. His eyes were locked on the little puppy in my arms, filled with a strange mix of pain, sorrow, and… relief? Something about him felt off. “Miss, can I have my grandson back?” I clutched the puppy tighter. “And how do you plan to prove it?” His throat made a strange, guttural noise, almost inhuman, sending a shiver down my spine. Then, the puppy, which had been barely moving, perked up. It opened its eyes and started wriggling in his direction, its little paws reaching out. The man took the dog and stroked its head gently. “Thank you for saving him, miss. Let me offer you a reward for your trouble.” I shook my head. “No need. I’m dying soon anyway, so money’s not much use to me.” The man’s eyes shifted color—his once dark pupils turned a glowing green, scanning me up and down as if he could see straight through me. My skin crawled. “Good deeds don’t go unrewarded. You saved my grandson, and for that, my family is forever grateful.” “If you can spend this money within three months, your illness will be cured.” I blinked in confusion. “What?” My phone buzzed, and when I looked at the screen, a new account had appeared, linked to a Chase Platinum Card. I did a quick count. $5 billion. I glanced back at the man and the dog, but they were already gone. My coat pocket felt heavier than before. I reached in and pulled out a sleek black credit card. Was this some kind of joke? Curious, I decided to test it. I emptied my Amazon cart, hitting checkout, expecting it to fail—but the transaction went through. That man wasn’t lying! I flagged down an Uber and headed straight for the city center. If I was going to die, I might as well go out in style. I arrived at the Galleria on Fifth Avenue, looking as pale as a ghost, with my clothes still covered in dirt from the dog. Even the little dog had gotten my coat all dirty. The sales associate who approached me looked barely older than twenty, nervous and shy. Probably new on the job, otherwise, they wouldn’t have sent her to deal with me. She seemed nice enough, though. She even offered me a cup of hot water when she noticed I didn’t have a jacket. I pointed to two coats and asked her to ring them up. “Don’t you want to try them on first, miss?” she asked hesitantly. I shook my head. “No need. Just bill me.” After the transaction, I pulled out my phone to check the balance. Sure enough, the card had worked, and a tiny progress bar had appeared on my phone screen. It read: 99.98%. I called out to another sales associate who had been watching me from the moment I stepped in, her nose high in the air. She barely hid her disdain as she sauntered over. “Excuse me, could I—” She cut me off with a sneer, rolling her eyes. “We don’t accept returns or exchanges on purchases here.” I raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t asking for that.” “You’re blocking my view.” Turning to the first girl, who seemed much kinder, I waved her over. “Miss, can you help me out?” “Of course! What would you like?” I pointed to several bags on display. “You see those three rows of bags? Grab the second one on the first row, the first one on the second row, and the fourth one on the third row.” The girl hurried off to retrieve them. “Would you like them gift-wrapped?” “No, thanks.” The snooty sales associate looked like she was about to say something again, but before she could open her mouth, I continued. “I’ll take everything else in those three rows. Pack them up, and put them all on her sale.” I pointed to the kind associate.

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My husband, Ryan Thompson, is a well-known celebrity hairstylist in the industry. His clients? All wealthy, high-society women. Late at night, he comes home, strips off his clothes, and falls straight into bed. But tonight, I found a receipt in his jacket pocket. Only one item was listed—condoms. It was purchased at 8:16 p.m. tonight. I froze. Ryan and I hadn’t been intimate in months. So who was he planning to use them with? My name is Melissa Thompson, 26 years old. After graduating, I started working at a bank, mostly dealing with investments and financial planning. My parents are both teachers, and they were always strict with me growing up. They never imagined I’d marry someone from a completely different background than mine. Ryan was the kind of guy any woman would fall for at first glance—handsome, charming, with an easy smile. At the time, he worked as a stylist at a high-end salon near my office. I would often stop by for a haircut after work. Over time, we got to know each other. Ryan’s good looks and sharp sense of humor stood out. He was mature and composed, totally different from the loud, immature guys I knew in college. I fell for him, and soon we started dating. When my father found out, he was furious. He yelled at me for hours. I cried so hard, and my mother, seeing how much pain I was in, finally stepped in to mediate between us. In the end, my father gave in reluctantly. I thought being with the man I loved would be like living in a fairytale, but after we got married, the stress started to pile up. I couldn’t sleep, had nightmares, my hair started falling out, and I looked more and more exhausted every day. Every time I looked in the mirror, it was like staring at a ghost. I’d glance over at Ryan, sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone, his toned abs peeking out from under his shirt. Next to him, I felt worse than ever. My parents were heartbroken when they saw how I looked. After our wedding, they spent most of their savings to buy us a house in a good school district. They even gave Ryan money to help him attend a hairdressing course. The training paid off. Ryan quickly became the star of the salon, eventually being promoted to Lead Stylist. But once he became Lead Stylist, he only got busier. He was out early, back late, and I rarely saw him anymore. When he did come home late, he reeked of alcohol and perfume, too tired to even take off his clothes before passing out in bed. That night was no different. Ryan came home in the middle of the night, collapsed onto the bed without taking off his jacket, and was snoring almost immediately. I felt bad for him, so I reached out to take off his jacket. As I shook it loose, a few strands of long, red, curly hair fell to the floor. I didn’t think much of it at the time—after all, Ryan worked as a stylist and was always covered in different women’s hair. I was used to it by now. I picked up the strands and tossed them in the trash, then hung his jacket over a chair. But then something fell out of his pocket—a crumpled piece of paper. Curious, I unfolded it and saw it was a receipt from the supermarket. Only one item was listed: condoms. It was purchased at 8:16 p.m. that evening. I froze. Ryan and I hadn’t been intimate in ages, so who were the condoms for? Once the thought crossed my mind, it started to take root. I grabbed his jacket and began searching through it more carefully. Finally, I spotted a deep red lipstick stain on the collar. Ryan had always told me how many women were around him at work—flirty receptionists, young clients, and charming female stylists. But his most frequent clients? Wealthy, married women.

From the day we got married, I chose to trust him. I never questioned his work or what he did. But seeing that lipstick stain and the condoms… I couldn’t help it. My mind was racing, spinning out of control. It started affecting my work, so I took a day off and headed straight for Westside Hair Salon. I’d never visited Ryan at work since we got married, and he never invited me to any of his social events. Over time, I realized I didn’t know any of his friends or coworkers. After some asking around, I found the salon at Westfield Century City, taking up a large space on the fifth floor with clear glass walls. As soon as I stepped off the elevator, I saw the huge “Westside Hair Salon” sign. Through the glass doors, I could see a girl with short green hair leaning over the front desk, laughing with Ryan. Ryan had a mischievous grin on his face as he ran his fingers through her hair, making her smile even wider. His eyes trailed over her body, and then he playfully pinched her waist. The girl didn’t pull away. In fact, she leaned into his hand, pressing closer. The chemistry between them was unmistakable. I was frozen in place. Is this what my husband does at work? It felt like my legs were filled with lead. I couldn’t move. Ryan whispered something in the girl’s ear, then turned and walked deeper into the salon. I quickly walked inside, my eyes following him as he disappeared into the VIP suite. The girl at the front desk glanced at me, her face twisting in disdain. “Are you here for a cut or color? Do you have a regular stylist?” I shook my head. “No, just find me whoever’s available.” She called out loudly, “Kevin! A client’s here. Wash her hair.” A slim guy with dyed blonde hair came out from the back. His features were delicate, almost feminine. He smiled at me. “Hey, beautiful. Come with me.” As I followed him, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I looked like a mess, and hearing him call me “beautiful” felt like a cruel joke. How could anyone in this business lie so easily? Kevin quickly washed my hair and seated me in a chair tucked away in a corner. He placed a white towel over my face and asked, “How do you want your hair cut?” “Whatever,” I muttered. He let my hair down and started cutting, making small talk as he worked. I took the opportunity to get some information. “How’d you hear about us?” he asked. “A friend recommended this place. She’s one of Ryan’s clients. But I didn’t see him out front,” I said, trying to sound casual. Kevin scoffed, clearly irritated. “Ryan? Oh, he’s busy. You need this,” he rubbed his fingers together, implying money. “Oh?” I feigned curiosity. “How much are we talking?” Kevin studied my face for a moment before lowering his voice and leaning in. “Look, you seem nice. You don’t want to get involved in this.”

It was clear Kevin knew a lot. I looked at his face in the mirror and said, “Tell me what you know about Ryan, and I’ll sign up for a VIP membership right here.” Kevin’s eyes lit up, and he grinned. “You got a thing for Ryan too? Trust me, you’re not the only one. His clients are all over him. They drive the nicest cars.” He kept talking as he cut my hair, telling me everything. Apparently, Ryan only handled VIP clients, and to get into the VIP suite, you had to have spent over $100,000 at the salon. “That much?” I asked, surprised. Kevin shrugged, like it was no big deal. “Ryan’s worth it. He’s got a way with those rich women. They just hand him their money.” His voice dripped with jealousy. I looked at Kevin. He was younger and not bad-looking. “You’re good-looking too. I bet those women like your type.” Kevin paused, then burst out laughing. “You’re funny.” He set down the scissors and leaned closer to me. “Ryan has a way of making those women fall for him. They give him whatever he wants.” I raised my eyebrows. “How does he manage that?” Kevin sighed and shook his head, clearly exasperated. “It’s his game. He doesn’t do emotions. If a woman’s hot, he uses her for sex. If she’s rich, he uses her for money.” Just then, we heard a voice from the front. “I want Ryan! I know he’s here. No one else will do.” A young woman was standing at the front desk, arms crossed, shouting. No one seemed to care, continuing with their work. I was shocked. “Aren’t you going to do something?” Kevin hushed me. “This happens all the time. Just wait—someone will always show up looking for Ryan.” I glanced at the girl, her face flushed with anger. No matter how much she yelled, no one paid her any attention. Finally, the green-haired receptionist snapped at her, “If you really want Ryan, I can book you an appointment.” The girl exploded. “Book an appointment? Are you serious? Do you even know what we are to each other?” She waved her finger in the air. “Let me tell you, I slept with him last night. And now he won’t even acknowledge me!” Kevin snorted, trying to stifle a laugh. But I couldn’t laugh. My mind was reeling—my husband, Ryan, was cheating on me. I sat there, staring at the scene, too numb to process it. While I was still in shock, Ryan came out of the VIP suite. The girl immediately dropped her attitude and rushed over to him, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Baby, I’ve been looking for you all day. Why didn’t you come out sooner?” Ryan scowled at her. “This is my workplace. Don’t make a scene.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294742”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #校园School #魔幻Magic #励志Inspiring #惊悚Thriller #浪漫Romance #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn

When the apocalypse arrived, the zombie outbreak began. I sat comfortably in the cool, old, abandoned Cold War bunker, watching the people who had bullied me in school now turning on each other like dogs fighting over scraps. The sight filled me with satisfaction, so I sent them a picture of me enjoying a warm bowl of chicken soup while my dogs, Max and Bella, happily gnawed on steaks. “Want some?” I asked, posting it in our class group chat. I watched their threats turn into desperate pleas, and all I responded with was: “Idiots. Keep dreaming.” 1 October 21, 2021 It’s been three days since the zombie outbreak, and the stable order at Ridgewood High School was already beginning to crumble. On the first day, the school had frantically called us all into the designated safe house, giving us a brief sense of safety. They provided us with a week’s worth of food. But human nature is unpredictable. Some students stole extra food to secure their own survival, and as supplies dwindled, the tension rose. Soon, our connection to the outside world was completely cut off, and fear began to dominate everyone’s minds. What started as solidarity quickly gave way to a breakdown in humanity. Fights broke out over how much food someone had eaten, and today was no different. “Let Chloe go outside. She’s brave enough to handle it, right?” Vanessa Gray’s voice pierced the room, just loud enough for everyone to hear. All eyes turned to me. “Yeah, Chloe’s dad was a weirdo, right? Bet she’s not scared of this kind of stuff.” “She’s tall, too. Maybe she could carry back a lot of supplies.” The whispers around me grew louder. They all stared at me like I was their ticket to salvation, speaking so casually, yet their eyes were filled with threat. They must’ve forgotten I’m just a girl. Before I could react, someone shoved me toward the door, pretending to cheer me on, “You got this!” I glanced outside at the zombie horde, then back at the people inside. They stood there, expressionless, more terrifying than the undead. They pushed me out the door as I fought to stay, the noise attracting the attention of nearby zombies. They stumbled toward me, and the people behind me locked the door tight. Through the crack in the door, I saw Vanessa smirking at me. Her face was gleeful as I took hesitant steps toward the zombies… 2 The sharp pain woke me up suddenly, and I jumped to my feet. The entire class turned to look at me, some stifling their laughter. “Chloe Reed! What are you doing?!” The voice of my English teacher cut through the confusion still lingering from the dream, and I realized I was back in the classroom. Was it all just a dream? That sickeningly familiar voice from the side interrupted my thoughts, dripping with sarcasm, “Maybe Chloe’s dad sent her a message from the afterlife. Isn’t he dead?” The whole class burst into laughter. “Enough! Chloe, take your book and go stand at the back of the room!” Mrs. Miller slammed her desk to regain control. I quietly grabbed my things and moved to the back of the classroom. My mind was still racing, trying to process that dream. If it was just a dream, why did it feel so real? The sensation of the zombies biting me still lingered in my hand. As soon as class ended, I rushed to the bathroom, pulling out my phone to search the internet for anything about zombies. Sure enough, I found a video. In it, a man stumbled toward the camera. His body was covered in blood, his face barely recognizable. His skin was veined with black and green. I knew immediately—he wasn’t human anymore. He was a zombie. Exactly like in my dream. I wasn’t dreaming at all. I had been reborn. I quickly checked the date on my phone: September 28, 202

There was still a month before the zombie outbreak. I had one month to find a safe place. Bang bang bang! The door to the bathroom rattled as someone banged on it. “Chloe, hurry up!” It was Vanessa. I clenched my fists, remembering everything she did in my past life. She was more than capable of it all. I forced myself to stay calm. It wasn’t the right time yet. I stepped out of the stall, facing her and her two lackeys. Vanessa smacked me across the face without hesitation, her voice dripping with cold disdain, “Move faster next time!” “You were in there forever. Did a ghost drag you down?” her sidekick, Ashley, sneered. “Why would she be scared? Maybe she inherited her dad’s psychic powers,” Vanessa added, her mocking smile twisting her face. They only said I wasn’t afraid because my dad used to tell fortunes. My mom died when I was young, so it was just my dad and me. I never felt ashamed of what he did for a living, but I learned early on to avoid the subject around my classmates. Then my dad died of stomach cancer, and Vanessa, pretending to care, came to my house with the principal, Mrs. Miller, in tow. When I returned to school, I became the target of their jokes. They didn’t care that I was now an orphan. To them, it was just fun. Vanessa led the charge. During gym, they threw balls at me. Once one person started, the rest followed. They even poured toilet water into my water bottle. They smeared glue on my chair, wrote disgusting things on my desk. Every time I tried to get help, the bullying only got worse. Some people suffer in silence. I was one of those people. I ignored them and walked out of the bathroom. Their filthy insults grew louder behind me. I went straight to Mrs. Miller’s office. “Mrs. Miller, I’ve been feeling really off lately. I’d like to take a few days off.” My voice shook slightly. I knew exactly why I was trembling. In my last life, I ended up dead because of them. I wasn’t about to let that happen again. Mrs. Miller noticed the red mark on my face, probably assuming I was self-harming. She quickly signed the leave form, granting me a week off, and told me to take time to relax. I took the slip, thanked her, and walked out of the school. There was no way I was going back to that nightmare of a class. 3 Everyone knew Vanessa was bullying me, but no one ever stepped in to help. I wasn’t some saint. I just wanted to get as far away from them as possible. Their survival wasn’t my concern. I walked out of the school gates and called for a taxi to take me home. My dad may have been an eccentric fortune teller, but he had helped countless wealthy executives. These people were all generous with their money. Over the years, my dad had saved up a small fortune for me. When I got home, I pulled out the two savings books he’d given me before he passed away. One was the dowry he’d been putting aside for me, and the other was a hefty life insurance policy he had taken out, which would pay me $10 million after his death. Together, the two accounts amounted to $17 million. At his funeral, all kinds of people came to pay their respects. Many of them owed their success to my father’s guidance. Seeing I was now alone, they decided to band together and set up an education fund for me. At first, I didn’t want to accept the money, but they insisted. Now, I was grateful. They’d given me $300,000. I looked around at the modest house. It wasn’t big, but it was in the heart of Ridgewood, so it was worth a fortune. A city center home was no longer safe. I had to sell it and find somewhere safer. I quickly contacted a real estate agency and asked them to sell the house within three days, even if it meant lowering the price. Next up was finding a safe place to lay low. 4 I took out my phone and searched for homes in the rural areas outside the city. I figured the farther I was from people, the fewer zombies there would be. While browsing listings, I stumbled upon something interesting: an old abandoned Cold War bunker was up for sale. I didn’t hesitate. I decided to buy it immediately. It was huge, naturally cool in the summer and warm in the winter, and way cheaper than any small suburban house! I contacted the seller and told him I wanted to buy it on the spot. I needed to inspect it immediately. To avoid raising suspicion, I lied, saying I wanted to convert it into a weekend retreat and asked him to keep it a secret. He seemed convinced by my enthusiasm and assured me no one else would find out. We quickly signed the contract. With 29 days left until the outbreak, I had found my safe house. Now, I just needed to fill it with supplies. For the next two days, I worked non-stop, furnishing my new bunker. Paranoia set in, so I made sure to contact the largest construction market in the next city and gave them strict instructions. I replaced the bunker’s entrance with the best security doors available—three layers thick. I hired workers to build a two-story house inside the bunker, to be completed within 10 days, with the finest materials available. The foreman gave me a confused look, so I lied again, telling him I was building a private luxury hotel to ensure my guests’ privacy. I paid him so well that he didn’t ask any more questions. He just shook his head and said, “Rich people sure know how to have fun.” In my past life, I died early, so I didn’t know how long the apocalypse would last. To make sure I survived this time, I started stockpiling supplies like crazy. I ordered 50 solar-powered batteries in case the power went out. Cooking was another issue, so I bought 100 gas canisters and a stove. To be safe, I bought 50 boxes of charcoal. While the bunker was being renovated, I focused on buying essential supplies, self-defense items, and things to pass the time. Sitting in my room, I made a list of everything I needed. Toilet paper runs out faster than you think, so I ordered 2,000 rolls. 200 boxes of tampons, too. Since I wouldn’t be going out once the zombies arrived, I bought five sets of pajamas for each season. I stocked up on underwear, laundry detergent, toothpaste, toothbrushes, shampoo, body wash, face wash, and skincare products, enough to last me three years. Satisfied with my list, I finally fell asleep, planning to head to the wholesale market first thing in the morning. 5 On the third day after my rebirth, I woke up and immediately checked the time on my phone. I was still paranoid that this might all be a dream. Seeing the date reassured me. I quickly got dressed and headed to the wholesale market. On my way, I stopped by my favorite breakfast place. I ordered my usual, savoring the taste. Who knew when I’d be able to enjoy something like this again? At the market, I bought everything on my list, instructing the merchants to deliver everything in a week. The owner’s face lit up at my large order, smiling from ear to ear. After I finished shopping, I got a call from the real estate agent. “Hello, Ms. Reed. I’m happy to inform you that we’ve found a buyer for your house.” “Can they pay in full?” I asked, getting straight to the point. I knew the house would sell quickly, but what I needed was cash. The agent’s voice was practically buzzing with excitement. “Yes, the buyer can pay the full amount upfront.” I sighed in relief. “Great. You handle the rest. I’ll move out within the week.” As soon as I hung up, my phone buzzed with a new text. The message was from an unknown number: “Chloe, don’t think you can escape just because you’re taking a break. I know where you live. You better come back soon. Without you, we don’t have anyone to pick on.” I didn’t need to guess. It was Vanessa. My body tensed with fear, my hand trembling as I held the phone. Vanessa always knew how to get under my skin. She said she knew my address, and for now, I had nowhere to hide. Remembering the school’s so-called “safe house” from my past life, I had an idea. I’d be back in a few days. Two days later, I had finalized the sale of my house. With that settled, I checked into a hotel for the time being and returned to school with some of my belongings. As expected, Vanessa “welcomed” me with one of her signature moves—garbage raining down on me as soon as I walked through the door. No one in the class helped. In fact, they found it amusing. They laughed, mocking my disheveled appearance. I clenched my fists and held it together. Their reckoning was coming, and soon. I made my way to my desk. Just before the bell rang, I picked up my backpack and walked out of the classroom. I knew they’d go and tell the teacher, but I didn’t care. I headed straight to the so-called “safe house,” which was really just the school auditorium. In my last life, this auditorium had been set up by emergency responders as a temporary shelter before they left to assist others. Only 80 of us survived in this very hall. I remembered how some of the teachers, desperate to reunite with their families, left and turned into zombies on the way home. Others stayed to help maintain order, working with the military. Flashes of those memories played in my mind. This was the place where they shoved me into the horde. I opened my backpack and pulled out ten hidden cameras I had purchased, discreetly setting them up in different corners of the auditorium. Once they were all in place, I left the school, satisfied. Just as I stepped outside, I got a call from the foreman handling the bunker renovations. He informed me that everything was done to my specifications and the place was spotless, ready for my inspection. I paid them well, so the work was done quickly and efficiently. I couldn’t help but think, Money really does solve everything. I called the manager at the wholesale market, letting him know they could deliver my supplies the next day. He practically jumped at the opportunity and assured me it would all be delivered on time. Next on my list was more furniture shopping. I headed to the furniture store and bought plenty of soft furnishings—top-quality sofas, beds, everything. Since the $1.2 million from the house sale was now in my account, I had no problem splurging on what I needed. Afterward, I stopped by an electronics store and bought two laptops, three tablets, and fifty portable chargers. Feeling accomplished, I took a cab straight to the bunker. As I stepped into the bunker, I marveled at the work. Money really can buy anything. I was beyond pleased with the results. I even gave each worker an extra $1,000 as a bonus. They seemed surprised and insisted they were just doing their job. Before they left, I couldn’t resist giving them a small warning. “Hey, with the pandemic and everything going on, it might be a good idea to stock up on some essentials. I heard the next town over is seeing a resurgence of cases.” I said it casually, looking off in the distance like it was no big deal. I couldn’t save everyone. In my last life, I died because of people. This time, I was saving myself. After the renovation crew left, the deliveries from the wholesale and furniture stores arrived. I used the same cover story to explain the massive amount of supplies being delivered, and no one questioned me. Once everything was inside and organized, I felt a wave of calm wash over me. 6 With 10 days left until the zombie outbreak, I knew it was time to stock up on long-lasting supplies. Fresh produce could wait until later. As I headed down the hill, I noticed two small dogs trailing behind me, their tails wagging excitedly. Looking at their playful, curious faces, I thought maybe adopting them would be a good idea. It might add a bit of joy to this otherwise grim existence. I called them over, and the little ones ran right up to me—one black, one white. They were so small I could easily carry one in each hand. After settling them into their new home, I headed straight to the largest market in town. This market had everything—whatever you could think of in terms of food and essentials, they had it. And the best part? No one cared how much you bought. It was exactly what I needed. I bought 50 cases of instant noodles, 100 cases of soda, 10 cases each of various canned goods, 100 bags of rice, 50 jugs of cooking oil, 10 cases of dehydrated vegetables, 20 bottles of each type of seasoning, plus tons of flour, pasta, and peanuts. Then came the fun part—snacks. I grabbed 20 bags each of almond milk, black sesame paste, milk, and yogurt. For treats, I loaded up on chocolate, nuts, sunflower seeds, chips, jerky, dried beef, and fruit snacks, ten cases of each. Of course, I couldn’t forget the dogs. I ordered 50 large bags of dog food, 20 cans of puppy formula, and 5 cases of other dog treats. I watched in satisfaction as the vendors loaded everything onto two large trucks. I instructed the drivers to head straight to the bunker. Fortunately, my cover story worked, and no one questioned the enormous order. Once everything was delivered, I felt a sense of calm. The supplies were all safely inside, and the bunker doors were tightly shut. As a final precaution, I decided to install additional cameras outside, just in case anything unexpected happened. With everything finally in order, I lay down on the bed and took a deep breath, finally able to relax. While the power and internet were still working, I signed up for every streaming service I could and downloaded all my favorite shows, along with ones I hadn’t watched yet, onto my laptops, tablets, and USB drives. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, my phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID—it was Vanessa. I answered the call with a blank expression. The moment I answered, I heard her mocking laughter, like she was showing off to someone. “See? I told you she wouldn’t dare ignore me.” I stayed silent. Her voice grew even more smug. “Chloe, did you forget the message I sent you? You forget what it feels like to get your ass beat?” I listened quietly, clenching my fist, but kept my cool. It wasn’t time yet. I needed to wait until they were truly desperate before I struck back. When I didn’t respond, Vanessa grew frustrated. “You think you can just stay quiet? Don’t forget, I’ve got dirt on you, b****!” That was it. I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Vanessa, have you forgotten you’re 18 now? Everything you’ve done is a criminal offense. One call to the cops and you’re done.” My voice was cold and steady. 7 Vanessa had repeated a grade. She should’ve been a senior by now, but because of her terrible grades, she was held back. To save face, she took a year off, so now, at 18, she was still a freshman. Hearing my words, Vanessa stammered a bit but quickly raised her voice to save face. “You think you’re so tough? You don’t know who you’re messing with! I’ll post your photos in the group chat!” “Do it,” I challenged. “We’ll meet at the police station after that.” I hung up before she could respond. She wouldn’t post the photos. Bullies like her were all bark and no bite when it came to facing real consequences. She understood the reality of her being 18 now. She was scared, and I knew she wouldn’t follow through. The photos Vanessa had were from when she and her gang dragged me into the bathroom, beat me, tore off my clothes, and took the most humiliating pictures they could. Back then, I was too afraid to fight back. I was alone, no family to turn to. But with the zombie outbreak on the horizon, fear was a thing of the past. Thinking back to that day, I couldn’t help but cry. Sensing my distress, the two little dogs came over, gently licking my face. Their presence calmed me, and I quickly fell asleep. The next day, I woke up knowing it was time for my final round of shopping. I returned to the market and bought a whole cow, two pigs, thirty chickens, twenty ducks, and an assortment of frozen fish and seafood. When the butcher delivered everything, I stocked my two massive freezers to the brim, feeling completely satisfied. Now, all that was left to do was wait. 8 On the second day in the bunker, with just five days left until the outbreak, I got a call from Mrs. Miller, my homeroom teacher. I hesitated but decided to answer. Her voice was gentle, cautious. “Chloe, are you feeling any better?” I could tell she was worried about my emotional state. Rubbing my nose, I responded, “I’m doing much better, but I’d like to take another week off. I’ll study from home.” She quickly jumped in. “No, no, Chloe. I’m not worried about your grades. I care more about how you’re feeling. It’s okay to take a break and focus on yourself.” Her concern hit me hard, and my throat tightened with emotion. Since my dad’s death, no one had shown this kind of care for me. My relatives kept their distance, worried I’d become a burden. With a slight sniffle, I replied, “Thank you, Mrs. Miller. I’ll work on taking care of myself.” She sighed in relief, her voice soft. “Good. Just rest at home, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’ll let you go now.” “Wait!” I blurted out before she could hang up. “What is it?” I hesitated. “Mrs. Miller, with everything going on, it might be a good idea to stock up on food. Just in case.” She chuckled lightly. “I’ll take your advice, Chloe. Thank you.” After we hung up, I turned my attention to the remaining cameras I hadn’t yet installed. Even with the reinforced doors, you could never be too careful. I decided to place them at the front entrance, so I could keep an eye on anything—or anyone—approaching. The little dogs followed closely as I stepped outside to install the cameras. Once the cameras were set up, I did another inventory check of my supplies. And that’s when I realized—I hadn’t stocked up on water. I nearly panicked at the oversight. Looking around the empty landscape, I wondered if it was possible to dig a well. I immediately called the same foreman who had helped with the bunker, asking him about it. He assured me it was doable and would only take a day. With time running out, I offered him extra money to get the job done as quickly as possible. Three hours later, the crew arrived with their equipment. The foreman smiled as he set up. “This won’t take long, but it’s going to be loud.” I waved off his concerns. “Don’t worry about the noise. I’m in a hurry, just get it done.” The team quickly got to work, and I stood by, watching. I couldn’t help but feel a strange fascination with the machinery. It wasn’t just boys who found this stuff cool—girls could too. Max and Bella, however, were terrified of the noise and ran inside to hide. By 11:30 that night, water started flowing from the well. I couldn’t help but laugh in relief. The foreman even placed stones around the well and installed a proper cover for me. I tipped him generously, and with a grin, he waved and left. Once he was gone, I settled into life in the bunker. Today, steak. Tomorrow, lamb. I was living the life. But as time passed, fear crept back in. Even though I had survived the last zombie massacre, I couldn’t shake the dread that came with knowing what was about to happen. 9 The day before the zombie outbreak, a video titled “Real-Life Train to Busan” suddenly trended online. But within less than a minute, it was taken down. I knew this was the government’s way of trying to keep the public calm. My hands started to tremble, and a cold chill ran through my body. Sensing that something was wrong, the two little pups came over and nuzzled my hands. Their warmth slowly brought me back to reality. I opened the feed from the cameras I had set up in the school’s safe house, just to check if anyone had entered yet, and what I saw made my stomach turn. It was evening, during study hall, and Vanessa and a senior boy walked into the school auditorium. I knew this boy all too well. In my previous life, he was the one who shoved me out into the crowd of zombies. I could never forget his face. But what made it worse was that I remembered this boy, Jason, had a girlfriend. His girlfriend knew Vanessa too. They used to be in the same grade, but Vanessa got held back and was now two years behind them. As soon as they stepped into the auditorium, Jason pinned Vanessa against the door, and they immediately started making out. The spot where they were standing happened to be right in front of one of the hidden cameras I’d installed. Their movements became more heated, and soon, the sounds coming from the camera were disgusting. I almost gagged. I’d always known Vanessa was vile, but I didn’t expect this. Doing something this repulsive, in the school, no less. Despite my nausea, I kept the camera rolling, recording the whole thing. Then, I heard their conversation. Vanessa, breathless, asked, “Did you… did you tell that b**** yet?” Jason, sounding greedy and impatient, replied, “Her family’s rich. I’m keeping her around for that.” They continued their sleazy activities, but the noise finally stopped. Vanessa, lying in Jason’s arms, let out a satisfied sigh, “Good. I was worried you actually had feelings for her.” Jason kissed her, clearly irritated, “No way. She doesn’t have your body, and she’s stuck up. It’s only because she’s loaded. Otherwise, I wouldn’t bother with her.” Listening to their whispers made me feel sick all over again. I edited the video, making sure to capture all the worst parts. To destroy someone, death wasn’t enough. Letting them die would be too easy. With 12 hours left until the outbreak, I sat comfortably on my bed, watching the news. At the 10-hour mark, reports came in from the neighboring city. Zombies were starting to emerge from hiding, but our town was still quiet. With 8 hours remaining, every student and teacher at Ridgewood High received a video on their phones—everyone except Vanessa, Jason, and their friends. At the 6-hour mark, Vanessa arrived at school. Her classmates gave her dirty looks, and people whispered as she walked by, pointing and smirking. By the 5-hour mark, Vanessa was fuming. “Who the hell filmed this?!” That’s when she got a text: Vanessa, enjoying yourself? At the 4-hour mark, the principal stormed into our classroom, his face red with anger. “Vanessa Gray! Get to my office! And call your parents—now!” By the 3-hour mark, Vanessa found Jason in the auditorium, panicked, “Jason, what do we do?” Jason snapped at her, his face twisted with annoyance. “Why the hell are you here? Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?” Vanessa, seeing his reaction, became furious. “Jason! You sure enjoyed yourself when we were doing it! Now you’re turning on me?” Their argument grew louder and more heated. Then, Jason’s girlfriend, Madison, walked over, her face twisted in a mocking smile. “So this is the trash you’ve been with? Pathetic.” Her words weren’t outright vicious, but they dripped with humiliation. Vanessa’s face turned pale, then red with rage. With only 1 hour until the outbreak, a man in hiking gear appeared on a street in the city center. His movements were slow and jerky as he stumbled toward the nearest person. 10 At first, no one noticed him. Until… he staggered toward a girl at the bus stop, listening to music while waiting for her ride, and bit into her neck. That’s when people saw his face. His eyes were clouded, with no pupils, just pale blue sclera. His skin was marbled with dark, bulging veins. He let out a horrifying scream, his teeth jagged like chainsaw blades, sending people running in all directions. He tore into the girl’s neck, ripping and swallowing chunks of her flesh. Many people fled, but a few reckless ones stayed behind to record it on their phones. His body, now rejuvenated from feeding, moved faster. He sprinted toward one of the bystanders, sinking his teeth into the man’s skull. Meanwhile, the girl he had attacked earlier, now a bloody, exposed skeleton, started to stir. She shouldn’t have been able to move—yet she did. The zombie outbreak had officially begun. I sat in my safe house, watching everything unfold through multiple perspectives on my phone. 11 At the same time, back at the school, a bloodcurdling scream shattered the silence, bringing Vanessa and Jason’s argument to an abrupt halt. On the field, people who had collapsed moments before were rising again. Their movements were slow, but they marched in unison, heading toward the crowded classrooms. I switched to the camera feed from inside the auditorium. The school reacted quickly, moving some of the students and staff into the safe house. Among those evacuated were, of course, Vanessa and her lackeys, along with Jason. I scanned the faces on the camera, seeing the same people as in my previous life, except for one new face—a classmate of mine who, like me, had been a victim of Vanessa’s bullying. Chills ran down my spine. It hit me: my rebirth hadn’t changed anything. I may have escaped my fate, but now someone else was paying the price. Just like last time, the school distributed what little food they had to the survivors in the auditorium, telling them to wait for rescue. I couldn’t bear to watch as some of the teachers, desperate to see their families one last time, tried to leave the safe house. Some stayed behind to help, while others ran, only to meet their doom. This time, I wasn’t going to sit back and suffer. I had the power to protect myself, and I wasn’t about to let anyone else decide my fate.

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I died, and the killer turned my corpse into a wax figure, giving it to my brother as a birthday gift. That day, they celebrated wildly next to my body, even smearing cake on my face, laughing and saying “Happy Birthday.” It’s as if they remembered today was my birthday too, but how could they remember? After all, they didn’t even know I was dead, and even if they did, they probably wouldn’t care. The day I died, it was raining heavily, probably heavier than any storm you’ve ever seen. I felt like even my floating soul was soaked through. I hurried back home, hesitating at the doorstep, afraid that water droplets from my body would stain the doormat and Mom would yell at me again. Oh right, I’m a ghost now. Even if I had water on me, it wouldn’t drip onto the mat. I don’t have to fear Mom scolding me anymore. I happily stomped on the doormat, and when I was done, I entered the house. The living room was warm with the heater on. It felt so cozy. My brother suddenly looked in my direction, tilted his head in confusion, then went back to playing his game. The aroma of braised pork and cola chicken wings wafted from the kitchen, along with Mom’s voice. “Leo, call Lily. Why isn’t she back yet?” Mom still cares about me. “If she doesn’t come back soon, tell her to never come back. Just asking her to buy a gift for Ryan, and she’s making such a fuss. It would’ve been better to raise a pig than to raise her.” I had earned $1,200 for tuition from part-time jobs and summer work, and Mom wanted me to give $1,000 to buy a phone for my brother. She even asked me to pay $200 for household expenses, not leaving me a single penny, indirectly forcing me to drop out of school. “If it weren’t for her, Ryan wouldn’t be… like this…” Mom started mumbling complaints about how I caused my brother to become mentally challenged. I could recite it by heart now. It was always about how I stole my brother’s nutrients in the womb, and how I rushed to be born first, causing my brother to be born later and suffer oxygen deprivation. I weighed five pounds at birth, while my brother was just over three pounds. But I was just a fetus then, what did I know? I sat on the sofa, looking up at the Ultraman-themed birthday backdrop. It read “Happy 20th Birthday Ryan” and had his photo printed on it. My brother and I were born on the same day. It was raining that day, so I was named Lily Rain. Because my brother was born a minute later than me, he suffered oxygen deprivation and almost didn’t make it. Mom and Dad named him Ryan Long, hoping he would live a long life. Dad was unpacking a very tall and large package: “We can’t have raised her for over a decade for nothing. She still needs to come back to take care of Ryan. Otherwise, what will happen to Ryan after we’re gone?” My brother was playing Snake on his phone. He was really good at it, the snake’s body quickly filling up the phone screen, reaching first place. “Ah!” Dad’s scream startled Mom who was cooking in the kitchen and my brother, who was so shocked that his snake hit another snake, ending the game. He stomped his feet, shouting and throwing a tantrum, “I’m dead, I’m dead.” Dad quickly tried to calm him down: “Don’t say such unlucky things. Even if your sister dies, you won’t.” Mom came out and was also startled, because Dad had finished unpacking that big package. It was a wax figure, a lifelike wax figure that looked exactly like me, as if crafted by a master wax artist. I looked at the smiling wax figure and trembled in fear. This wasn’t a wax figure, it was my corpse!

Looking at my corpse wax figure, smiling but unable to hide the fear, still holding a phone in its right hand. I remembered. I remembered how I died. I was working as a housekeeper to earn money, and the killer was the client I worked for yesterday. He wore glasses and looked gentle and refined, seeming very kind. He said he had been looking forward to meeting me for a long time. He said tomorrow was my birthday, so he wanted to make me a birthday gift. I asked him strangely if we knew each other. The killer said he knew me from a post titled “What does it feel like when your parents don’t love you?”. My answer was “Probably that if I died somewhere, they wouldn’t know for a month, and even if they did, they wouldn’t care.” Because of a casual answer, I was targeted by the killer. Really, it’s so helpless and scary to be alone on the internet. The killer looked gentle, and even when he killed me, he was gentle. He was afraid I would be in pain, so he fed me sleeping pills, gave me anesthesia, and then drained my blood. He was even gentler than when my parents beat me. He really made me cry to death. Before I died, he let me call my parents. He said if they called me “precious daughter” just once, he would let me go. But Dad didn’t answer. I called ten times, and he never picked up. Mom answered quickly, but she started scolding me as soon as she picked up, yelling at me for not coming home to cook and for not taking good care of my brother. She cried and scolded, “How did I give birth to such a jinx like you? I should have drowned you in the toilet when you were born.” With the anesthesia, I couldn’t feel the pain in my wrists, but waves of pain kept hitting my heart. “Mom, I’m dying. Can you call me your precious daughter just once?” Mom cursed again, mixed with the sound of her cooking. “If you want to die, buy your brother’s phone first, then go die. Even if you die, I’ll arrange a ghost marriage for you and use the bride price to find a wife for your brother.” “Precious daughter? What a joke. You’re nothing but a jinx.” The call ended, and with it, my chance to live. As my blood drained away, my corpse still held the phone. Dad received a timed text message sent from my phone by the killer and read it out loud. “Mom, Dad, this is the last gift I’ll ever give to my brother, an unforgettable gift. Do you like it?” Mom, holding a spatula, stared at my corpse wax figure, very angry. “Yesterday she said she was going to die, and today she sends a wax figure back. Why didn’t she send her corpse back? I could have at least burned some money for her.” I stood next to the corpse wax figure, mimicking its pose of holding up a phone. Mom, this is my corpse. Mom, please burn more money for me. I was already so poor when I was alive, having to work as a child laborer since middle school. I don’t want to have to work after death too. Mom, you need to burn some clothes for me too. My clothes are all wet, and it’s very cold. I’ve tried to wring out my clothes several times, but they’re still soaking wet. Good thing I’m a ghost, the water droplets on my clothes stay on me forever. Otherwise, if they dripped on the floor, Mom would scold me again. Like when I was little, it was raining outside, and I waited until dark, but Mom never came to pick me up. I walked home in the rain by myself, and the water dripping from my body dirtied the doormat and wet the floor. When my brother came out, he slipped and fell, and Mom scolded me, beating me hard with a clothes hanger. Dad just stood by, smoking, and advised Mom. “Don’t hit the kid’s face. If you leave scars, we won’t be able to sell her for a good price when she grows up.” He talked about me like I was a pig being raised for slaughter. Oh, in their eyes, I was even less than a pig. After all, a pig doesn’t come out of Mom’s belly, doesn’t steal nutrients from a brother in Mom’s womb. Dad looked at my corpse wax figure and cursed it as unlucky, wanting to throw it away. But my brother liked it very much, hugging the corpse wax figure and not letting go. “This is my sister, my sister. We can’t throw her away. I want to play with my sister.” Because my brother was mentally challenged, as innocent as a child, our sibling relationship was still okay. In fact, it was my brother’s innocence that repeatedly healed the wounds I suffered in this family. When Mom hit me, my brother would clumsily protect me, saying, “No hit… sister… hurt.” When Mom wouldn’t give me food, my brother would secretly hide chicken legs for me to eat, always getting his clothes greasy. When Dad forced me to drop out of school to work, and I cried all night, it was still my brother who clumsily comforted me, making me laugh, threatening to run away from home to force Dad to let me go to school. My suffering wasn’t because of my brother, but because of my parents who didn’t love me. My brother wanted to keep my corpse wax figure, and our parents, who indulged him in everything, certainly had no objection. My brother happily brought out his paints and started coloring the wax figure. He tilted his head and looked at me, as if he could see me, and asked, “What color does sister like?” “Green.” I answered, and my brother picked out green paint. I like green because it symbolizes endless life. Mom stared at the wax figure for a long time, until she smelled something burning in the kitchen and cursed as she walked away. Dad took out his phone and called me. “Ring… Ring…” The sound of the call connecting was like my heartbeat. I became hopeful. The phone in the hand of the corpse wax figure wasn’t a model, it was my phone! Would Mom and Dad discover that I was dead, that this was my corpse? Would they regret it? Would they kneel in front of my corpse, crying bitterly, regretting how they never treated me well in these twenty years?

Unfortunately, the phone didn’t ring, and the screen didn’t light up. Dad tried calling twice and then gave up, only cursing that I didn’t even come back for my brother’s birthday, not caring about my safety or whether I was alive or dead. They wouldn’t wait for me to come back for dinner, let alone wait for me to cut the cake together. They ate the tender braised pork knuckles and delicious cola chicken wings. My brother even had a bowl of longevity noodles and two red eggs. I sat next to my brother, pretending I was part of this family, my hand passing through the chopsticks, pretending to pick up a piece of braised pork to eat. I closed my eyes, imagining how delicious it must be. It should taste similar to restaurant food. I had never eaten Mom’s cooking, and I wasn’t allowed at the table. Mom would only put the gnawed bones and leftover food in a copper basin, like feeding a dog, and leave it for me to eat. Indeed, all these years they had treated me like a dog. To them, giving birth to me and raising me was the greatest kindness, and I should be grateful and not ask for more. I wondered if they discovered I was dead, would they make me a birthday feast too, order a cake for me? Before they finished eating, my brother started clamoring for cake. Mom and Dad put a birthday crown on my brother, lit the birthday candles, and sang the birthday song. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…” “Happy 20th birthday, Ryan. Make a wish quickly, be sure to wish that you’ll become smart, exchange your sister’s life for your intelligence.” I stood by, smiling bitterly. My brother and I were twins, and every year on our birthday, Mom and Dad would mention me, but not to wish me well. Instead, they would have my brother make a birthday wish every year to exchange my life for his intelligence. In the past, I was always hurt by such words, but this time I sincerely hoped my brother’s wish would come true. I was already dead, it shouldn’t be for nothing, right? “Mom, this time brother’s wish will come true.” But my brother shook his head, “Don’t want sister to die, want sister to have happy birthday.” In this family, only my brother remembered that today was my birthday too. Mom and Dad remembered too, but they didn’t care, which hurt me even more. Mom angrily said with a stern face: “You can’t. You can only wish to exchange your sister’s life for your intelligence.” My brother didn’t understand what “life” meant, but he was very stubborn. This year, he just wouldn’t make that wish. It’s strange, when I was alive, my naive brother happily made this wish every year. Now that I’m dead, my brother refuses to make this wish. My brother insisted on not making the wish, and Mom got so angry she hit the back of his hand. My brother cried pitifully and suddenly lay on the ground, rolling around. My six-foot-tall, handsome brother was lying on the ground, throwing a tantrum and crying like a three-year-old. It really didn’t look good, and it wasn’t right. It was painful to watch. I crouched next to my brother, comforting him like I used to. “Brother, make the wish quickly. Sister is already dead, this time the wish will surely come true.” My kind and innocent brother should get better, should become smart. I don’t know if my brother heard what I said, he just kept throwing a tantrum. “I don’t want to be smart, I just want sister, I want sister.” Mom was so distressed she wiped away tears, then started cursing me again with all sorts of nasty words. Dad looked at my brother rolling on the ground, very annoyed. “It’s just a wish. We’ve been making this wish for twenty years, and we haven’t seen Lily die or Ryan become smart.” “If wishes really came true, I would have killed Lily long ago.” Dad angrily grabbed a handful of cake and smeared it on the neck of the corpse wax figure, the action really looked like killing someone. It’s not surprising. If they could choose, they would have preferred that I was the one who came out late, that I was the one who suffered oxygen deprivation and became mentally challenged. If I had been born later that year, if I had been the one with brain damage, would they have treated me the way they treated my brother, never giving up, spending all their money to give me rehabilitation training? Look at them, they know today is my birthday too, but they don’t bless me at all. Instead, they wish they could kill me. Seeing Dad’s action, my brother stopped crying, got up and grabbed some cake to smear on the wax figure’s mouth. “It’s sister’s birthday, eat cake, sister, eat cake quickly.” My brother was happy, and so were Mom and Dad. They all grabbed cake and smeared it on the wax figure. They were very happy, they were celebrating wildly. Perhaps they felt relieved that I was dead, and were celebrating. I didn’t care. I just pretended they were celebrating my birthday. This was the first time Dad, Mom, and my brother celebrated my birthday together. I happily sang the birthday song to myself: “Happy 20th birthday, Lily Rain.” “My wish is…” I seemed to have no wishes. I guess a dead person’s wish would probably be to have a better life in the next reincarnation. But I don’t want to be human anymore. So I’ll wish that in my next life, I won’t be human. I’ll be a cat or a dog, even a pig or a duck, anything but human. Being human is too tiring. After making my wish, I closed my eyes to blow out the candles. The candles went out, and the room suddenly went dark. When candles go out, wishes are supposed to come true. Ding dong. The sudden sharp doorbell sound startled my parents again. Dad pushed Mom out, telling her to answer the door. I followed behind Mom to open the door. Mom only opened half the door, saw it was a strange man, and asked warily, “Who are you looking for?” Seeing who it was, I fearfully stepped in front of Mom. Because this was the killer who murdered me!

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My husband’s mistress died, murdered after being raped. That afternoon, my husband and I were taken to the police station. I actually had no idea my husband was having an affair. If it weren’t for this murder case, I might have been kept in the dark forever. To investigate the killer, the police took our fingerprints and asked about our whereabouts during the time of the victim’s death. The victim, Mandy Brooks, was 28 years old and an employee at a certain company. She died around 11 PM on July 30, 2019. The cause of death was a severed carotid artery, resulting in death from excessive blood loss. It had been three days since Mandy’s death. With only three days having passed, I naturally remembered the time frame clearly. I distinctly recalled that my husband was with me that night, sleeping very deeply, so I told the truth without hesitation. My husband and I were questioned separately by the police. I was questioned by a man and a woman. The man, Mike Lee, was around thirty years old and the deputy leader of the major crimes unit. The woman, Sharon West, looked to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight and was quite beautiful. Perhaps because they saw I was pregnant and had just learned about my husband’s infidelity, seeing my red-rimmed eyes, they were afraid I couldn’t handle it psychologically. They were very gentle when questioning me. Sharon, in particular, looked at me with gentle eyes and asked, “Mrs. Thompson, please think carefully. Are you absolutely sure your husband didn’t leave the house that night? Or is it possible that he snuck out while you were sound asleep?” I was taken aback by her question. After considering for a moment, I said, “Officer West, since becoming pregnant, I’ve been sleeping more heavily. So I go to bed early every night. All I can say is that my husband was there when I fell asleep and when I woke up.” Sharon and Mike exchanged glances, and I curiously asked, “Officer West, isn’t it possible to extract DNA left in the victim’s body? If you suspect my husband, you can test for that.” As I said this, I was thinking to myself, they were already having an affair, why would he need to rape her? The killer definitely wasn’t my husband. Seeing my question, Sharon shook her head and said, “The killer was clever and didn’t leave any useful evidence, so this case is a bit complicated to investigate.” I let out an “oh,” and Sharon asked how far along I was in my pregnancy. I told her four and a half months. She smiled and looked at my belly, saying it looked quite large and might be twins. After saying this, she comforted me, saying pregnant women are prone to emotional outbursts and that I should try to stay positive about some things and take good care of myself at home. I was very touched by Sharon’s words and chatted with her for a few more minutes before leaving the police station. I thought my husband would be returning home with me, but Officer Lee told me that my husband still needed to assist with their investigation and couldn’t leave yet. With no other choice, I had to return home alone. Back in our neighborhood, I learned from neighbors that several police officers had come and retrieved surveillance footage from the complex. They had also questioned our neighbors, asking if they had heard our door open between 9 PM and early morning on July 30th. I asked the neighbor how she responded, and she said she hadn’t heard anything, so she answered truthfully. Hearing this, I felt very reassured. I thought my husband would be spending the night at the police station, and when I called him, he didn’t answer. Unexpectedly, just as I had finished dinner and was about to go to bed, he returned. He still had his usual cold demeanor. When I got up to heat some food for him, he stopped me. I asked, “Honey, why didn’t you answer my call earlier?” He said the police had taken his phone to copy his chat history and call records. Thinking about all the lovey-dovey messages between him and that woman on his phone, I felt some disgust. But considering the baby in my belly, I swallowed my feelings. After all, that woman was already dead, what more did I have to fret about? But I was wrong. My lack of concern didn’t mean others wouldn’t care. Just as I was falling asleep, I suddenly felt a violent choking sensation in my throat. Opening my eyes, I realized my husband was frantically squeezing my neck, trying to kill me.

I struggled desperately, pushing against him while gasping out, “Honey… I’m carrying your child… Do you… Do you really want both of us to die?” At the critical moment, my words had an effect. He slowly released my neck, forcefully gripping my shoulders instead. With bloodshot eyes glaring at me, he shouted, “Lyric, tell me, did you hire someone to kill Mandy Brooks?” His enraged appearance terrified me, and I hurriedly explained, “Honey, you’re… you’re wrong about me. I don’t have the guts to do something like that.” “Hmph! Is that so? You’d better hope I don’t find out it was you. Otherwise, I’ll strangle you with my own hands.” After saying this, my husband glared at me viciously one last time before getting off the bed and leaving. That night, he didn’t return to our bedroom, and I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. My mind was filled with images of his furious face. It wasn’t until nearly dawn that I finally dozed off fitfully. The next time I woke up was to the sound of the doorbell ringing. After listening for a while and realizing no one was answering the door, I lazily got out of bed, intending to go downstairs and open it myself. But when I walked down the stairs and saw the state of the living room, I let out a scream of terror. Because I saw my husband, Ethan. He was now motionless, slumped against the sofa, and at his feet was a large pool of blood. My husband had slit his wrists in an apparent suicide, and a bloody scalpel lay discarded on the coffee table. Seeing this horrifying scene, I let out another scream. I didn’t dare look a second time because the image was too terrible. I only felt my whole body go weak and limp, collapsing to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. The doorbell outside kept ringing. Hearing my screams, the ringing became even more urgent. I wanted to go open the door, but I found I had no strength at all. I could only sit on the floor, sobbing. After who knows how long, the door was pried open from the outside. Sharon and Mike entered, followed by two uniformed police officers. When they saw my husband, they were all startled. Mike immediately called for the medical examiner, while Sharon, seeing me sitting on the floor crying, helped me up. The medical examiner arrived quickly and made a preliminary determination that my husband had committed suicide. The estimated time of death was around 2 AM. He didn’t die peacefully; his face was somewhat contorted as if he had experienced something terrifying just before death. Mike told me that my husband was indeed the killer of Mandy Brooks. I found it hard to believe, but he said the evidence was conclusive. He explained that the police had retrieved surveillance footage from both our complex and Mandy’s neighborhood. Although he had managed to avoid the cameras in our complex by using blind spots, because he wasn’t as familiar with the area where Mandy lived, they had captured footage of him at around 10 PM on the night of the incident on one of the cameras. I listened in disbelief as Mike continued, saying that they had found SnapChat messages between my husband and Mandy on his phone, confirming they had planned to meet during those days. So they initially concluded that my husband had committed suicide out of guilt. Hearing this, I felt overwhelmed with grief. I crouched down on the floor, my body shaking uncontrollably like a sieve. My husband’s body was taken away by the police, who said they needed to conduct further examinations. Our home had become a crime scene, with the entire living room cordoned off by police tape. Especially that pool of blood on the floor – it made me feel terrified just looking at it. After I finished giving my statement, Sharon seemed very sympathetic towards me. She put her hand on my shoulder to comfort me, then asked in a low voice, “Lyric, I see bruises on your neck. Did Ethan abuse you?” Her question reminded me of last night’s events. I wiped away my tears and cautiously said, “Last night I confronted him about the affair. He was in a bad mood, so he got physical with me.” Sharon listened thoughtfully, then after a moment of silence said, “The neck is a vital area. He was trying to kill you. Why didn’t you call the police?”

Sharon’s words startled me. I took a deep breath and said, covering my neck, “Officer West, he was my husband, the father of my unborn child.” Seeing me respond this way, Sharon didn’t say anything more. As they prepared to leave, Sharon advised me that if I felt scared staying at home, I could temporarily move to a nearby hotel. She also told me to call her if anything came up. I nodded in agreement and saw them off. I’m a girl from the countryside. My parents still live in our rural hometown, quite far from here. Ethan’s parents are from Concord. After university, both Ethan and I found jobs here, so we bought our marital home in this city. I just never imagined that this spacious 2000 square foot house would now be occupied by me alone. Thinking about this made me feel incredibly sad. I could only go upstairs to pack a few changes of clothes and check into a nearby hotel. After eating a little something, I took out several of my husband’s bank cards and called the online banking customer service. When I checked the balances, I was shocked to discover that my husband had over $5 million in savings across his accounts. Actually, I didn’t know the PINs for my husband’s bank cards. But recently, I had deliberately asked him to take me shopping for baby items at the supermarket. During those repeated payment transactions, I secretly memorized his mobile payment PIN. I guessed that most people, like me, use the same PIN across their mobile payment apps and bank cards to avoid forgetting. Sure enough, my guess was correct – it worked on the first try. Ever since I became pregnant, I had suffered from severe morning sickness, forcing me to quit my job as a makeup artist at a photo studio. My husband was very guarded about money and only gave me $300 a month for living expenses. This was something that really bothered me. After securing the bank cards, feeling exhausted and tired, I unconsciously dozed off on the bed. I ended up having a nightmare. In my dream, I was lying on the bed unable to move, while Mandy Brooks and my husband Ethan were both grinning at me eerily, reaching out their hands to choke me. I suddenly woke up, realizing it was just a dream. Feeling parched, I was about to get up for some water when my phone on the bedside table rang. I picked it up and saw it was Sharon calling, which made my heart skip a beat. I took a deep breath before answering the call. Sharon asked which hotel I was staying at, saying there were some more things they needed to understand. I could only tell her the hotel name. About half an hour later, Sharon arrived, this time by herself without Mike. I let her into the room, and Sharon smiled, asking, “Mrs. Thompson, although your husband’s cause of death appears to be suicide, the autopsy found traces of alprazolam in his system, and quite a high dose at that. Did he usually suffer from any related conditions?” “Alprazolam?” I pondered the drug name for a moment before realizing, “Oh, you mean the sleeping medication? My husband had insomnia. He would only take two pills when he couldn’t sleep.” “Is that so? But the amount detected in your husband’s body wasn’t just two pills. It was at least a dose of five pills. How do you explain that?” Hearing Sharon’s words, I smiled.

I smiled in a way that was more painful than crying. Sighing, I said, “Officer West, if you put yourself in his shoes – if you were my husband and your lover had suddenly died in such a manner, could you sleep peacefully? If he didn’t want to suffer, given his pre-existing insomnia, wouldn’t it make sense to increase the dosage?” My words left Sharon speechless. After a while, she gave me a meaningful look and said, “Mrs. Thompson, I thought that with your husband just deceased, you would be at a loss and deeply saddened. I didn’t expect you to immediately check your husband’s account balances.” Sharon’s words startled me. She continued, “According to our investigation, your husband’s parents are still alive. Now that their only son has died, shouldn’t you notify them?” “My in-laws are elderly. I haven’t figured out how to break the news to them yet. I’m pregnant now, and there will be many expenses in the future. I have to plan ahead. Officer West, the police seem to be quite involved in many aspects.” My tone was not at all polite. Sharon probably didn’t expect someone who looked as gentle and weak as me to speak so firmly. She smiled awkwardly and apologized. Before leaving, she revealed one piece of information to me. She said that a security camera had been installed on the building opposite ours. Due to a recent circuit malfunction in that household, the camera had somehow ended up pointing towards our living room window, capturing partial footage of our living room. She gave me a meaningful smile before departing. Her words left me tossing and turning all night, unable to sleep well. Sure enough, the next day I received another call from Sharon, asking me to come to the police station. She said there were new developments regarding my husband’s cause of death. With an anxious heart, I arrived at the police station and was taken directly to the interrogation room. The interrogators were still Sharon and Mike. I sat silently, waiting for them to speak first. Mike played a video clip on the large screen behind him. It showed a woman wearing a cheongsam. The image was a bit blurry, but the woman’s entire face was captured. She had long, messy hair and looked quite terrifying, like a female ghost. In the footage, she slowly came down the stairs, walked to the window, and drew the curtains. Then nothing more could be seen. I watched in confusion, but even though the living room image wasn’t very clear, I could tell at a glance that it was my home. After watching the video, I asked perplexedly, “Officer West, Officer Lee, who is this woman? How did she get into my house?” Hearing my words, Sharon and Mike exchanged smiles. Sharon said, “Mrs. Thompson, on the night before last, which was when your husband died, only you and he were at home. Are you saying this person isn’t you?” “But that’s not me,” I said angrily. “It doesn’t look like you, but if someone whitened their face and deliberately applied ghost-like makeup, it’s not impossible,” Mike said. “But I’m pregnant. The person in the photo couldn’t be me.” My words left Sharon and Mike looking at each other, unable to refute. Seeing my reaction, Sharon said firmly, “The person in the photo does look very much like the deceased Mandy Brooks, but we absolutely don’t believe in ghosts or spirits. Lyric, can you let me see your belly?” Hearing this, I laughed bitterly, “So you suspect I’m faking my pregnancy?”

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