Category: English

My daughter is a top-tier romance addict. For the sake of a man from a humble background, she wanted to sever our mother-daughter relationship. She even went as far as trying to kill me for the family fortune. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn! As I opened my eyes, I saw my love-obsessed daughter’s youthful face and the familiar face next to her. I realized I had been reborn. The panic of the car accident, the despair of being paralyzed in bed, and the body tormented day and night by illness – these memories kept flashing through my mind. The last image frozen in my life was my daughter’s horrifying face, twisted like a devil, accompanied by her vicious words. “Mom, I didn’t want to do this to you, but who told you not to hand over the company to Jack and me earlier? You could have enjoyed your retirement, and we would still be a happy family.” My daughter’s incessant voice in my ear made me feel disgusted and nauseated. I struggled to suppress the urge to slap her across the face. “Mom, why can’t you understand that Jack and I are truly in love?” Lily whined. “I know you look down on Jack because his family is poor and you think he’s not good enough for me. But Jack is an excellent student, hardworking, and will surely be successful in the future.” “You can’t look down on people just because they’re poor. It’s not his fault.” Hearing this, I knew it was the time when Jack first came to my house. Look down on him? I couldn’t help but chuckle. I did look down on him, but not because he was poor. To describe Jack in one sentence: Give him an inch, and he’ll take a mile. “Mrs. Wilson, I know I’m poor now, but I promise I’ll give Lily a good life and never let her suffer,” Jack immediately assured me. With his handsome looks and steady voice, coupled with his sincere expression, he could indeed easily deceive people. See! My love-obsessed daughter was immediately moved, staring at him with tears in her eyes. “Since your love is so strong, I won’t stand in your way. If you want to be together, then be together,” I said. Why would I stop them? A romance-crazed girl and a man from a humble background – perfect match, locked in, blessings! Of course, it would be even better if this guy didn’t keep eyeing my assets.

I own several properties, a few commercial shops, and a company, bringing in millions each year. While not extremely wealthy, I could be considered well-off. In my previous life, when Lily brought Jack home to meet me, I didn’t approve of their relationship. Lily thought I looked down on poor people and only loved wealth, resenting me deeply. But she didn’t know that I disliked Jack not because he was poor, but because of his terrible family situation. Jack came from a poor family in the countryside, the only son after three daughters. Rural families were generally not well-off, and Jack’s was no exception. They married off their eldest daughter to a man in his forties, using the bride price to send Jack to a good high school. For college tuition, they married the second daughter to a disabled man, and the third to an abusive alcoholic. In short, they married their daughters to whoever offered the highest bride price, blatantly selling their daughters. While some families favored sons over daughters, it was rare to see it taken to this extreme. Lily had been pampered by me since childhood, and I couldn’t bear to see her step into this fire pit. I told her about the situation, but to my surprise, she said she already knew. She claimed her sisters were willing to contribute to the family, proving the deep bond between siblings. Seeing that I couldn’t persuade her, I could only prove my disapproval through actions. As a result, she threatened to sever our mother-daughter relationship! Even worse, to get my assets, she caused me to have a car accident, leaving me paralyzed and immobile. Finally, she deliberately hired a caregiver who had a record of “taking care” of several employers to death. And then, I was “cared” to death!!

“I knew you cared about me the most, Mom. We’ll definitely take good care of you in the future,” Lily said, her expression quickly turning from cloudy to sunny as she heard my approval. She clung to my arm, acting coy. I dared not hope for their filial piety. If they want to be together, fine, just don’t spend my money. “Lily has been pampered by me since childhood, always having the best of everything. Her standard of living will certainly drop after being with you. I’ll cancel her cards first, so you can adapt to pre-marital life,” I said with a smile, looking at Jack. As expected, I saw his face immediately darken, though he quickly composed himself. Huh, quite the quick-change artist. How did I not notice how deeply he hid his true nature in my previous life? “Mom, what are you saying? Are you joking?” Lily’s voice immediately rose several octaves, nearly exploding. “I’m doing this for your own good, letting you adapt to pre-marital life. Surely you don’t expect me to support you after you’re married?” I calmly threw her previous words back at her. “But it’s different. We’re not short of money, why skimp on this?” Lily protested. “The money at home is what I earned. You can’t rely on me forever,” I replied. “Jack, I believe in Lily’s judgment. You must be an excellent young man. But if you want to marry Lily, you need to show me that you can live independently. Only then can I feel at ease,” I said directly to Jack, ignoring my love-obsessed daughter. I knew he would agree. As expected, after weighing the pros and cons, he agreed and even persuaded my disgruntled daughter. After they left, I immediately called to cancel all of Lily’s cards.

Jack was just a salaried worker with a modest income. Lily, used to living comfortably on my money, had no intention of working. After I canceled her cards, she still had some money left. She continued shopping everywhere, spending money without a second thought. She didn’t consider whether Jack’s salary could support her lifestyle once the money ran out. No, perhaps she had considered it but thought I would still be her safety net, or maybe she thought I was just trying to scare her. My love for her over the past twenty-plus years was her confidence. But this time, her calculations were wrong. Less than a month later, I started receiving calls from Lily. I set them all to silent and ignored her. I went on a business trip out of town, not giving her a chance to confront me in person. Seeing that she couldn’t reach me, she started playing the victim on social media, accusing me of being cold-hearted. I continued to ignore her, pretending not to see it. Since she called me cold-hearted, I had to live up to her words. Knowing the general trends of the industry from my previous life, I focused on making money. Dealing with this ungrateful pair was just a side task; one can’t always live in hatred. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay away forever and eventually had to return home. The day I returned, Lily immediately cornered me at home. She came crying, first accusing me of not answering her calls and being unreachable. Then she complained that because I had canceled her cards, she couldn’t afford expensive bags anymore. She couldn’t buy clothes in every color as she used to when she liked something. When dining out with friends, she discovered her card had no money, losing face and being mocked by her friends. She said her life had become very frustrating and she had suffered many grievances. The underlying message was clear: she wanted me to continue giving her money to spend. I ignored her complaints and entered sarcasm mode: “Oh, really? Well, you’ll have plenty more days like this after you get married.” “You need to get used to it gradually.” “I knew you were doing this on purpose. We have so much money at home, you’re just deliberately trying to force us to break up,” Lily reacted violently when she saw I showed no sympathy for her, questioning me loudly. “Do you have to be so cold-hearted? We’re all adults, is it wrong to pursue love?” “From childhood to adulthood, you only knew how to work. Have you ever truly cared about me or accompanied me? Have you ever given me the warmth of a family?” “You didn’t do any of these things, but Jack did them all. He does the laundry and cooks for me, cheers me up when I’m unhappy, takes me out to play. He makes me ginger tea when I have my period. He fulfilled my fantasy of what a family should be.” I felt my chest heaving with anger, wanting to slap her across the face immediately. What an ungrateful brat. I gave her a house, a car, money, poured my heart out for her, and it couldn’t compare to a man cooking a few meals and sweet-talking her.

When Lily was young, my husband had already passed away. It was a time when my career was on the rise, and I struggled to balance family and work. Despite my busy schedule, I made time to help her with homework, care for her health, and tried my best to spend time with her. I never expected her to say she hadn’t felt the warmth of family. Did she expect me to revolve around her every day? “I might not have done your laundry or cooked for you, but I hired a housekeeper. You could have whatever you wanted to eat.” “When you were unhappy, I might not have sweet-talked you, but I tried my best to solve the source of your unhappiness.” “I might not have made you ginger tea, but I found you a private doctor to take care of your health.” “I’ve done so much, and you say you haven’t felt the warmth of family. Then go feel it more at Jack’s place. After all, I’m cold-hearted.” I suppressed my anger and listed all these things I had done for her, feeling my years of dedication were unappreciated. It would have been fine if she just lacked gratitude. After all, I brought her into this world, and I only hoped for her to live happily. But I never expected her to harbor so much resentment towards me. “I’m not stopping you from pursuing love. I have the right to decide how to use the money I earned.” “Splurging my money everywhere while complaining that I didn’t give you family warmth – Lily, don’t be so shameless.” My daughter’s face turned as colorful as a spilled paint palette, alternating between pale and flushed. She immediately defended herself, her voice tinged with a hint of grievance: “Mom, I’m sorry. I just said the wrong thing in a moment of anger. How could you say such things to me?” “If I hadn’t been in a bad mood from being mocked for having no money, I wouldn’t have spoken carelessly and made you angry.” Look at this good daughter I raised. Even when apologizing, she still had to shift the responsibility onto me. “I really have no money. Look, I’m even allergic to these cheap clothes. Please restore my allowance,” my daughter said, looking at me pitifully with tears in her eyes, lifting her sleeve to show me her allergic arm. She hoped to evoke my sympathy. “You have enough new clothes to wear different ones every day until next year without repeating,” I coldly exposed her act of playing the victim. She did indeed have allergies to some fabric materials. But she had so many clothes that she wouldn’t worry about having nothing to wear. “I’m your only daughter. Won’t all this money be mine sooner or later anyway? You might as well give it to me in advance, isn’t it the same?” Lily said. “If you don’t give it to me, I’ll consider that I don’t have you as a mother. We’ll sever our mother-daughter relationship, and I won’t take care of you in your old age.” Lily said viciously to me, with a hint of embarrassed anger, using elderly care to threaten me. “Fine, let’s sever it then. I might as well have given birth to a roast pork,” I said, referring to a Chinese joke about useless children. “But verbal agreements are invalid. I’ll have someone draft an agreement, and you can sign it, Ms. Lily.” “As for elderly care, as long as I have money, there will be plenty of people to take care of me, certainly more filial than you.” I said with a smile, speaking very quickly, not accepting any threats. It’s really laughable. It’s the 21st century, and she’s still bringing up this issue. A young person living more conservatively than me. As for elderly care, I’m more worried that her version of care would be the kind that leads to premature death by several decades. Seeing that I spoke without any hesitation, Lily feared I would immediately have her sign the agreement. She left angrily. As she left, she didn’t forget to slam the door loudly.

After Lily left, I reflected on my education of her for a while. I couldn’t figure out where the problem was. Materially, I had given her the best within my abilities. I hadn’t neglected her in life either. During her university years, I let her get involved in the company’s affairs, but unfortunately, she really didn’t have the aptitude. She was also playful and lazy, so I didn’t force her. I thought I could still work hard, and later give her company shares directly. She would just need to wait for dividends and happily spend money, no need to work. Why did she turn out to be such an ungrateful person? After a long time, my reflection yielded no results, and I stopped dwelling on it. Rather than reflecting on myself, it’s better to blame others. I refuse to engage in mental exhaustion. In the evening, Jack brought a reluctant-looking Lily over. After work, Jack learned about what happened between Lily and me today, and immediately brought her to apologize and reconcile. Seeing Lily’s unwillingness to lower her pride, speaking words without sincerity, I remained silent. Jack tried to smooth things over, saying nice words. He still hoped to get my assets through Lily and didn’t want to fall out with me so quickly. I took the opportunity to step down, deciding to deal with people like them gradually, aiming for a single, decisive strike. After a period of peace, the company was thriving under my leadership. After being reborn, everything was getting better and better.

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My newlywed husband forced me, a terminal liver cancer patient, to drink hard liquor just to please his secretary. His little secretary staged an incident where she took a knife for him. She lost a lot of blood, so he urgently asked me to donate blood for her. I demanded a million dollars, to which he sneered, “Your blood sure is precious.” Of course, the blood of a liver cancer patient is precious. Later, his secretary and I got into a car accident. He mocked me: “You caused the accident on purpose, didn’t you? Stop pretending. You just want more money, right?” “Aria, you disgust me.” I’ve had enough. I wanted to get a divorce certificate before I died, but he looked down on me condescendingly: “Don’t use such low-level tactics to get my attention.” “You’re in no position to negotiate with me.” Forget it. When I’m dead, the marriage will naturally end. I stood hesitantly at the door of the private room, crumpling the paper in my hand. The bar was lively, and I felt a bit scared to go in. But he hadn’t been home for a month. Suddenly, the door opened and someone came out. He was on the phone and looked at me in surprise: “Mrs. Carter, why are you here?” His voice was just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, and they all turned to look at me. Lucas Carter’s hand was resting on the waist of the girl next to him. My heart felt like it was being stabbed with needles. “Come here,” he said coldly. I had trouble breathing and crumpled the paper in my hand even tighter. “Mrs. Carter is here, come sit, come sit.” The person next to Lucas quickly made room for me beside him, but I didn’t move. I just handed over the paper in my hand: “Sign it. I’m in a hurry.” For a moment, the room fell silent. They probably didn’t expect me to be so firm, after all, I was just a pathetic leech clinging to Lucas. Lucas sneered and put down his glass: “If you’re here to ask for money, at least act like it.” He glanced at the paper in my hand: “What illness did you make up at the hospital this time?” My face turned pale, and the paper trembled slightly in my hand. I did go to the hospital, but I didn’t make up any illness. My condition had worsened, and I was dying. He snatched the paper from my hand but froze when he saw the title. He angrily slammed the paper on the table, his eyes blazing: “Aria, you want a divorce?” “Is this what you were in a hurry for?” I nodded: “Just sign it.” “You don’t love me, and I don’t love you. I don’t want to be tied to you for life.” As soon as I finished speaking, there was a collective gasp in the room, and even the air seemed to turn cold. Lucas gritted his teeth: “Fine, finish this bottle of liquor, and I’ll sign.” I looked at him, my lips turning white. Someone quickly poured me a glass of alcohol. Liver cancer patients can’t drink alcohol. He was trying to kill me. “I… I’m not feeling well…” “What? Changed your mind about the divorce?” “Aria, stop playing games.” “If you want something, just say it. No need for these elaborate schemes to threaten me. You’re only making me sick…” It felt like a piece of my heart was being violently torn out. The pain made my whole body tremble. I grabbed the bottle from the table and poured it straight down my throat. It burned like fire, from my throat all the way to my stomach, igniting my broken organs.

I put down the empty bottle, and Lucas looked at me, suddenly smiling: “So, you can drink after all.” “Of course, after so many years abroad, who knows how many people you’ve drunk with. You must be able to handle your liquor by now.” “This one bottle is nothing.” I coughed a few times, trying hard to suppress the churning in my stomach: “Sign it.” “After it’s signed, I’ll move out.” But Lucas just grinned: “One bottle isn’t enough.” He patted the waist of the girl next to him and said, “Go get some more, open them all.” One bottle after another, I don’t even know when I lost consciousness. When I woke up with a stomach ache, I crawled up from the floor and rushed to the bathroom. I threw up violently, washed my face, and struggled to stand up. Looking in the mirror, I saw my haggard face, unnaturally yellow. I looked down and laughed bitterly. God still wasn’t ready to let me go easily. So pathetic, I should have just died abroad. “Mrs. Carter, are you okay?” Someone handed me a tissue. I looked around the room, it was empty. The divorce papers were lying on the table, soaked in alcohol, without Lucas’s signature. I frowned: “Where’s Lucas?” “Miss Simmons had a fever, so Mr. Carter left…” Left, huh… The man who used to be so worried he couldn’t stand it if I got even a small scratch, now doesn’t even bat an eye when I pass out. But for Miss Simmons, Lucas seems particularly caring. Claire Simmons, his newly kept mistress. Also the person who looks most like me, not the current me, but the high school me. I wiped the water stains on my clothes with the tissue and staggered out of the room. Every step I took, my body ached, and so did my heart. When I went abroad, Lucas cried heartbrokenly behind me: “If you leave, never come back.” But I didn’t listen. Now that I’m back, there’s no good ending for me.

Lucas was the poor student I sponsored in high school. He had excellent grades, standing tall among a bunch of misfits like a young white poplar. I liked him, but he was so poor he couldn’t even afford a meal. Because of a love letter someone gave him, he was bullied by the school thugs. In the bathroom, a group of people deliberately peed on his shoes, soaking them through. That day, the usually well-behaved Lucas got into a fight. When he came back to class with a bruised face, he was barefoot. In the sub-zero weather, his feet were red and swollen from the cold. My heart ached for him, and I immediately called my driver to bring a pair of socks and shoes. That was the first time I spoke to him. My throat tightened as I handed him the shoes: “Lucas, these are for you.” He looked up, his eyes red. I was still in a daze when I was woken up by the ringtone. Getting something and then having to give it up is really painful. The call was from Lucas’s assistant. I didn’t want to answer at first, but he kept calling, over and over. I tiredly sat up, took some painkillers, and just as I answered, his anxious voice came through: “The boss has been stabbed, come quickly!” My mind went blank, and I felt the world spinning. Was Lucas going to die? Without thinking further, I quickly threw on some clothes and rushed to the Carter family’s private hospital. Lucas was standing at the door of the operating room, his whole body tense. There was red blood on the cuff of his suit, but his eyes were fixed straight ahead. He was very nervous and worried. I remembered the year I had appendicitis surgery, he was so worried he almost cried. He was afraid I would be in pain, afraid I would be uncomfortable. He didn’t sleep all night and even slapped himself twice, blaming himself for letting me eat such a messy diet. My feet slowly came to a stop. Lucas turned his head, saw me, and walked over with big steps. His hand raised high but then fell back down with restraint. His eyes were all red as he shouted at me: “Aria, why did you do this?!” “You hired those people, didn’t you!” I stared at him blankly. His eyes were filled with hatred, not a trace of tenderness. My heart felt so tight I could barely breathe. I lowered my head to hide my pain, trying hard not to cry: “I don’t know what you’re talking about… it wasn’t me.” “Stop pretending!” Lucas looked at me, grinding his teeth, his chest heaving violently, his fists clenched. “They all pointed you out.” It felt like a piece of my heart was being violently torn out. I had taken painkillers before coming, so why did it still hurt so much? His voice was hoarse: “Since you hired people to do this, there’s not enough blood in the blood bank. You and Claire have the same RH negative blood type, go donate blood for her!” I looked at him, hardly believing my ears. The Lucas from before would gently cover my eyes even when I went for a routine blood test. Perhaps my gaze was too obvious, Lucas couldn’t look at me. He just turned to the doctor and said: “Take her to donate blood!” It turns out you can still laugh when your heart is shattered to the extreme. I curled my lips: “Sign the divorce papers, and I’ll go.” “Stop messing around, Aria.” He looked at me tiredly: “Malicious injury can land you in jail, you know.” “Will you sign or not?” I said coldly. Lucas’s face turned white, then he compromised as if he had lost a negotiation: “How much money do you want this time?” My heart hurt so much I could barely breathe. I laughed coldly: “One million dollars.” Enough for me to die properly. “Your blood sure is precious,” Lucas said sarcastically. How could the blood not be precious when the liver that produces it is full of tumors?

After donating 500cc, I felt so dizzy I could barely stand. Lucas looked at me coldly: “Stop pretending, you just want more money, don’t you?” He threw the card at me. It hit my chest lightly before falling to the ground. My eyes stung with tears. Even when I was at my worst, I had never insulted Lucas like this. I glared at him, tears streaming down my face. Lucas’s expression showed some regret. He said anxiously: “We’ll settle accounts when we get home!” I looked at the card on the ground, feeling stupid for rushing here like this. Lucas didn’t deserve my concern. I wiped away my tears and stepped on the card as I left. Lucas’s assistant picked up the card behind me and handed it to Lucas. I heard him say behind me: “All this drama, it’s just to get my attention.” “For the sake of you donating blood to Claire, I’ll come home on our wedding anniversary.” I had just stepped out of the hospital doors when I felt a wave of dizziness. Someone steadied me, and I was about to thank them when I heard a familiar voice: “Aria, what are you doing here?”

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For the sake of Roman White’s career, I willingly served time in prison for him. After I was released from prison three years later due to my good behavior, he gave me a cheap necklace. Just when I was feeling confused, I saw his secretary, Megan Smith, holding a necklace packaging box just like the one I had. I dismissed the doubts in my heart. Until the company’s year-end party was over, Megan updated her Instagram. [I received a high-end custom diamond necklace from Mr. White at the party. So happy!] Many people asked her when she would become Mrs. White, and Roman liked that post. I went to confront Roman, and the answer I got was that my identity was not honorable after I had served my sentence. He asked me to hide our marriage. Angrily, I called his enemy, Noah Adams, and said, “You said your company would always welcome me. Does that still hold true?” “You served time in prison for Roman for so long, and now you want to come to my company?” Noah joked, “Didn’t he say that when you were released from prison, the position of department manager would be yours?” I held up the cheap necklace in my hand, smiled self-deprecatingly at the light, and said, “I don’t want it anymore.” As soon as I finished speaking, Roman appeared at the door, looking at me in confusion and asking, “What don’t you want?” I calmly hung up the phone and confessed, “The department manager position.” His expression became complicated, but he quickly let out a sigh of relief and said, “Coincidentally, I was planning to give this position to Megan anyway. You can start as a clerk first.” I frowned. Three years ago, for the development of his company, I unhesitatingly took the blame for him. At that time, he promised me that when I was released from prison, the position of department manager would be mine. But now I had become a dispensable clerk. Roman had broken his promise from that year, yet there was not the slightest bit of guilt on his face. I felt heartbroken. Seeing that I didn’t say anything, he took out an agreement from his briefcase and threw it on the coffee table, saying nonchalantly, “This is the secret marriage agreement. Just think of doing this for the company.” The words “secret marriage agreement” were dazzling to me. Three years ago, the day before I went to prison, Roman and I got married. What supported me through the long prison term was my expectation of being with him after I was released. But now, I had become a stain on his company, and he even wanted me to disappear completely from his world. I smiled self-deprecatingly, picked up the pen, and signed without hesitation. Roman suddenly turned his head and looked at my hand that was about to put pen to paper, his brows furrowed. He thought, “How could she who once couldn’t wait to make our marriage public be so resolute?” He subconsciously stopped me and tentatively asked, “Aren’t you going to think about it at all?” I didn’t answer and directly signed my name. Roman held the signed agreement and fell silent. After a while, he cleared his throat and said gently, “Abigail, don’t worry. Once the situation of our company stabilizes, I will compensate you.” I responded perfunctorily. Just then, the notification sound of the company group chat rang. Megan was appointed as the first department manager of the company. Colleagues in the group congratulated her. [You have accompanied Mr. White and worked hard for these three years. We all think you deserve this position!] [I think Megan should be Mrs. White. We support you very much.] Then, Megan sent a shy emoji, tacitly agreeing with what everyone said. She wrote: [I still think Abigail is luckier. She served three years in prison and can still be a clerk in the company. Mr. White is so good to her!] Megan, who knew the inside story, was undoubtedly mocking me by saying this. I forced myself to endure the discomfort and looked away, only to catch a glimpse of Roman staring at his phone with a gentle smile. I couldn’t help but start to suspect that he chose to have a secret marriage with me because of Megan.

Moving into the guest room was the first step for Roman to fulfill the secret marriage agreement. Then, he drew the line. We didn’t take the same car, and we didn’t go together. I was only allowed to call him Mr. White in the company. Finally, he said that his relationship with Megan was just for show, and I wasn’t allowed to make a fuss about it. After saying these things to me, Roman disappeared for three days. Three days later, I took a sick leave because of a fever. He called me and said reproachfully, “I can’t believe you asked for leave when you just started. Go to the hospital by yourself. I’m on a business trip and busy.” I’d seen this coming. I gave a faint answer. But before his words were even finished, a coquettish voice sounded. “Roman, my zipper is stuck! Come and help me…” Roman hung up the phone in a hurry, and I heard his footsteps walking away. Then I saw that Megan’s Instagram had a new profile picture, which was a couple’s profile picture with Roman. Once, I always pestered Roman to change the couple’s profile picture with me, but he always made excuses, saying it was troublesome and childish. He just didn’t want to use the couple’s things with me. For some unknown reason, he started to send me messages and call me frequently. I only replied with one message: [It’s my rest time now. Mr. White, please understand.] After finishing the infusion, I returned to the company. My colleagues were still cold to me, and my desk was piled high with work documents. Probably in their eyes, I was just a lucky person who was taken in by Roman after serving my sentence, and I deserved this treatment. I adjusted my mood and packed the items in the storage cabinet into a black garbage bag. If I had known they would be useless, I wouldn’t have brought them into the company in the first place. Just as I was about to go out to throw away the garbage, Roman came back. Before I could react, he angrily dragged me into the stairwell. Seeing the garbage bag in my hand, his face darkened, and he said, “You have time to throw away the garbage, but you don’t have time to answer my phone calls?” The strong perfume smell on him made me instinctively take a step back, and I said calmly, “I have replied to your message.” My words angered him, and he questioned me, “Why do you call me Mr. White?” I thought, “What’s the difference between being on the phone and being in person? This was what he asked for. Why is he dissatisfied now?” Seeing that I was silent, he sneered, “You know I don’t like willful women. Don’t become the kind of person I hate.” After saying that, he snatched the garbage from my hand and threw it hard on the ground. A huge noise echoed in the stairwell. He walked away swaggeringly. Our photo together and the couple’s water cup were shattered all over the ground. Our relationship of many years seemed to be like these fragments, difficult to be restored. My heart ached faintly, as if it was also full of cracks. I silently cleaned up the garbage and called a lawyer, asking him to draw up a divorce agreement. Just as I was holding the printed document and about to knock on the door, Roman opened the door of his office one step ahead. Seeing his cold gaze, I calmly handed the document to him and said, “Sign it when you have time.” Roman didn’t look at the document. He directly turned to the last page and signed it, and then calmly handed it back to me, ordering me, “Go out for business entertainment with me later. Drink more wine.” I wondered in my heart, “His alcohol tolerance is always good. Why does he want me to drink more wine?” Before I could ask, Megan bounced out from behind him and said, “Mr. White is so considerate! Thank you for remembering that I can’t drink because of my cold.”

Megan was wrapped in a blanket and snuggled up on Roman’s shoulder. When she saw me, she frowned and said reluctantly, “Mr. White, you’re being too careful. I just have a cold. You won’t let me drink or let me go to work. If I hadn’t begged you all the time, you wouldn’t have brought me here.” Hearing this, Roman affectionately touched the tip of her nose with his fingertips and said indulgently, “Then don’t cry when you take your medicine.” The affectionate gestures between them were what only lovers in love should have. His gentle and humorous appearance made me feel so unfamiliar. I clenched the divorce agreement in my hand and instead felt relieved. When we arrived at the restaurant, Roman first exchanged a few pleasantries with the partner and then began to introduce Megan, saying, “This is Megan Smith, the department manager of our company.” When Roman introduced me, the president of the partner frowned and said disdainfully, “This lady, if I’m not mistaken, was imprisoned for defaulting on a loan, right? Mr. White is so nostalgic.” His body stiffened slightly. He glanced at me, finally smiled, and acquiesced. Roman’s and Megan’s seats were next to each other. During the meal, he kept giving me looks, indicating that I should take the initiative to please the partner. During the dinner, someone noticed the intimacy between them and joked with a smile, “Mr. White and Ms. Smith are a perfect match. Mr. White, may I ask if you’re married?” Roman looked at me, his eyes showing a hint of imperceptible hesitation. The next second, we almost answered at the same time, “No.” Although we said the same answer, he suddenly turned his head to look at me, his eyes full of shock. It wasn’t until the partner went to the restroom that he sent me a message to explain: [It’s just for show. Never mind.] Roman said he was just acting, but what I said was the truth. After all, he had already signed the divorce agreement. I glanced at the message and turned my phone screen down on the table. Seeing this, Roman was just about to stand up, but I stood up and went to the restroom first. When I came out of the cubicle, I ran into Megan. She folded her arms across her chest and said arrogantly, “Abigail, you’re pathetic. You’re being despised by your husband to this extent. I would be very ashamed if I were you.” I lowered my head to wash my hands. The sound of the running water covered up my indifferent words. I said, “Ms. Smith, this has nothing to do with you.” After drying my hands, I was about to leave. But Megan stepped sideways to block my way and scanned me from head to toe with her eyes. She said, “Mrs. White, why are you still wearing such old-fashioned clothes?” She chuckled and showed off, saying, “Oh, I forgot. Roman’s money was probably all used to buy me high-end, custom-made clothes. I’m really sorry.” Those expensive brand-name clothes on her were like a silent mockery, reminding me of the difference between a plastic necklace and a high-end custom diamond necklace. The pain that had been pent up for a long time made me almost flee in a hurry. When I got back to the private room, I picked up my bag and left. Roman quickly stepped forward to stop me and said patiently, “Don’t leave yet. I’ll send you back later.” Just as I was about to refuse him, Megan suddenly rushed in, crying, instantly attracting everyone’s attention. He immediately let go of my hand and stepped forward quickly, asking about the situation anxiously. Megan rummaged through her bag in a hurry and then searched all her pockets. She shouted in a panic, “My custom-made diamond ring is gone!”

The private room suddenly became noisy. Everyone was helping Megan look for the ring. As she searched, she said anxiously, “This is a birthday gift from Mr. White. It’s worth more than 30 million dollars. But I lost it!” I just wanted to leave this suffocating scene as soon as possible. When I was just at the door, Megan stopped me and said, “Abigail, let me check your bag. This way, you can clear your suspicion.” She seemed polite, but her eyes were full of provocation. I knew I didn’t take her ring, but I couldn’t defend myself. I said, “I’m tired. Ms. Smith, you can look for it yourself.” Seeing that I was determined to leave, Megan actually grabbed my bag. As we tugged, the things in my bag scattered all over the ground. In the mess, a huge diamond ring sparkled with a blinding light. I was stunned and looked at Megan in disbelief. She showed a triumphant smile. “Why are you framing me?” I looked at her angrily. I turned around and saw that everyone in the private room was looking at me with disdain. Roman frowned, and his disgusted gaze stabbed into my heart like a knife. “I didn’t take it!” I instinctively explained to him, but my voice was drowned out in the noise. Megan picked up the ring and burst into tears. “This ring means a great deal to me. How could you steal it, Abigail? I thought you had reformed, but I didn’t expect you to stop at nothing for money. I won’t dare to work with you in the future…” Her words made everyone’s faces in the room gloomy. The president of the partner showed a gloomy expression and said sternly to Roman, “Mr. White, our cooperation this time is over!” After saying that, he left angrily. I wanted to chase after him and explain, but Roman slapped me in the face. I covered my face and looked at him in disbelief. He said coldly, “I didn’t expect you to be such a greedy person! I brought you here not to embarrass me!” His actions and words let me down. I thought, “He should know my character. Has he forgotten why I went to prison in the first place?” Looking at his angry eyes, I knew he wouldn’t believe me. I smiled bitterly, took out my phone, and handed it to him, saying, “In that case, call the police.” He glanced down at the phone and then looked up at me. His eyes were complex, but he didn’t move. I seemed to know Roman more. “Unreasonable!” He snorted coldly and turned around to comfort Megan, gently putting the ring on her finger. I was left alone in the private room with a mess on the floor. I silently picked up the scattered items, without any hesitation, turned around and left, heading straight for the airport. The waiting hall at night was empty. I wanted to edit my resignation letter, but I received a dismissal notice from Roman first. [Don’t come to the company anymore. Reflect on your mistakes at home!] His words were full of anger, as if he was giving me charity. I looked at the phone screen and just thought it was ridiculous. Without hesitation, I took a photo of the divorce agreement that I had already signed and sent it to him. [Roman, I wish you and Megan a long life together! But the prerequisite is that you have to go through the divorce procedures with me first, otherwise, I’ll sue you for bigamy.] Soon, I received a call from Roman. I hung up all of his calls, and Roman sent me a lot of messages. [Abigail, are you kidding? When did I agree to the divorce?]

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At nine years old, I met Adrian at the foster home. He had been abandoned by child traffickers. I took beatings for him, shared my food with him, and we begged together on the streets. Later, when Adrian’s family found him, he insisted on bringing me back with him. I thought Adrian would marry me as he had promised. But he ended up proposing to his business partner’s daughter instead. He said, “She’s just a filthy, stinking beggar. Nothing but a burden.” Clutching my brain tumor diagnosis, I numbly thought: In a month, you’ll finally be rid of me for good. “Do I really only have a month left?” I asked the doctor. The doctor nodded gravely, “At most a month before the tumor in your brain ruptures.” “During this month, headaches, nosebleeds, and temporary blindness are all normal symptoms.” I nodded, gripping the diagnosis paper tightly. The doctor asked, “Where’s your family? It’s best to have loved ones with you at a time like this.” Hearing this, my heart ached like it had been stabbed with needles. I forced a smile and told the doctor, “He’s busy with work… he couldn’t come.” If Adrian knew I was dying, would he be sad? He probably… would be, right? After all, he did love me once. But if he loved me, why did he abandon me on the way to my medical check-up just because of one call from Rosalie? Maybe my death would be a relief for him? When I returned to Adrian’s house, I found a crowd gathered in the garden. It seemed like a party was being held. Although I had lived in Adrian’s house for several years, the young ladies and gentlemen from wealthy families always looked down on me because of my past as a beggar. Before, Adrian would protect me, even beating up those who despised me. But rumors and gossip can be hurtful, and he gradually grew distant and began to despise me too. I didn’t want to draw attention, just hoping to quietly return to my room. Rosalie, who had been basking in everyone’s attention, suddenly called out to me: “Sister Lily!” She came over, feigning affection as she linked arms with me, showing me the necklace around her neck. “Look, Adrian gave this to me to celebrate my award at school!” “Isn’t it beautiful?” So that’s why Adrian had abandoned me – to celebrate Rosalie’s school award. The huge pink diamond on the necklace reflected light, somewhat dazzling. I suddenly felt a bit dizzy. I could only stiffly reply, “It’s beautiful.” The people around us burst into laughter. “Look at her dumb expression, she must be so jealous!” “Oh please, don’t flatter her. A dirty beggar like her wouldn’t even know what she’s looking at!” “How dare a street rat compare herself to Rosalie?” I was used to their mockery and Rosalie’s smug looks by now, and had no intention of arguing. The dizziness was slowly turning into a headache. Numbly, I asked, “Can I go now?” Rosalie flashed me a sly smile. The next second, she threw the necklace directly into the lake! “Ah!” Rosalie let out a piercing scream, clutching my sleeve tightly. Her sharp nails dug into my arm, causing a stinging pain. “Sister Lily! This was a gift from Adrian! Even if you’re jealous of me, you shouldn’t throw the necklace into the lake!” I struggled to break free from her grip: “I didn’t!” Blood trickled down my arm where Rosalie had grabbed me. I tried to cover it, but the blood wouldn’t stop flowing. At that moment, Adrian appeared, pulling Rosalie into his arms and roughly pushing me away! Rosalie sobbed quietly in Adrian’s embrace. Adrian lowered his head to kiss her, softly comforting her. Earlier at the hospital, when the doctor told me I didn’t have long to live, I had managed to accept the fact calmly. But seeing Adrian now, an indescribable feeling of grievance washed over me. My eyes reddened. “I…” I wanted to say, Adrian, the doctor says I’m sick. I’m dying. I’m in so much pain. But I was cut off before I could finish. Adrian coldly said, “Go fish it out.” The lake water was truly cold on that early winter night. The chill felt like sharp needles stabbing into my legs. My hands searched back and forth in the water. By the time I found the necklace, over an hour had passed since I jumped into the lake. The headache was getting worse, as if a sharp knife was being twisted inside my skull. I crawled up to the shore, enduring the pain as I shakily handed the necklace to Rosalie. But Rosalie recoiled as if she’d seen garbage, shrinking into Adrian’s arms. “I don’t want it, it’s too dirty now.” Adrian was amused by her little tantrum, holding her even tighter. “Then we won’t keep it.” He glanced at me, “What are you still standing there for? Get lost!” I tossed the necklace aside and turned to leave. I had barely taken a few steps when an intense pain shot through my head. The next second, I lost consciousness. In my hazy state, I felt someone carrying me. That embrace was so warm, just like Adrian’s embrace from many years ago. When I was nine, I met Adrian at the foster home. The caretaker at the time, Mr. Thompson, was greedy and made a rule that children over seven had to do forced labor every day to “earn their keep”. As for how seven-year-olds were supposed to do this work, that wasn’t important. Begging, stealing, robbing, or conning – it didn’t matter, as long as they did the work. If they couldn’t, the lightest punishment was no food. The worst was being beaten half to death. Adrian was different from those of us who had grown up in the foster system. He came later. Apparently, Adrian had been kidnapped first, but when he got a fever that wouldn’t break, the traffickers dumped him on the roadside where Mr. Thompson found him. Adrian was proud and could never do enough work to satisfy Mr. Thompson, so he was always getting beaten. I felt sorry for him. So when he couldn’t bring himself to beg, I would give him all the money I had scraped together. Even the sandwiches I secretly saved up to buy, I would share half with him. The one getting beaten became me instead. Late at night, Adrian would cry looking at the bruises on my body. I comforted him: “I’m used to the beatings now, it doesn’t hurt!” But how could it not hurt? I grew up under the shadow of those beatings, even trembling at the sight of a stick. I just didn’t want him to feel guilty or sad for me. On cold winter nights, he would hold me as we huddled in a corner. He said: Lily, when I find my family, I’ll give you all the best things in the world. He said: Lily, I’ll protect you forever and ever. He said: Lily, I love you. When we go home, I’ll marry you. I thought it was just silly talk from a little boy and didn’t take it to heart. A few years later, someone really did come looking for Adrian. Adrian’s parents came, bringing a whole fleet of cars. It was quite a spectacle. Those cars were so spacious and grand, unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Adrian wanted to take me with him. But I was scared. Everything about Adrian’s family was foreign to me, like a whole different world. I said I didn’t want to go. The corrupt caretaker had been fired, and the foster home got a new person in charge – a kind and gentle lady. I wanted to stay and help her take care of the younger kids. But Adrian said he couldn’t leave without me. In the end, I softened. When we got to Adrian’s home, he treated me really well at first. I didn’t understand anything and made a lot of silly mistakes. The servants would secretly laugh at me behind my back. When Adrian found out, he beat them up and threw them out of the house. He even had a big fight with his parents and replaced all the servants and nannies. Adrian did love me once, I knew that better than anyone. But unfortunately, that love couldn’t withstand the rumors and gossip. My background gradually spread throughout their social circle. Adrian was mocked because of me. He seemed to get tired of it all and slowly distanced himself from me. When Rosalie appeared, he tossed me aside like garbage. I became their laughingstock. But it’s okay, because it will all be over soon. “What will be over?” A cold, hoarse voice came from beside me. I jerked awake. Adrian was sitting next to me, wiping my face. Hearing my sleep-talking, his eyes were cold. “Nothing,” I turned my face away, avoiding his touch. Adrian’s expression grew colder. He gripped my arm and repeated, “I asked you, what’s going to be over? Or where are you planning to go?” “Ouch—” I sucked in a sharp breath. Adrian’s hand was pressing right on the wound on my arm. He pulled up my sleeve, looking at the now dried wound. “Did Rosalie do this?” I didn’t say anything. “Don’t blame her,” Adrian said. “Rosalie’s just a young girl, it’s normal for her to lose control of her strength when she’s upset.” “Besides, you were in the wrong first in this matter.” I sat up straight and said, “I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t throw the necklace, she threw it in herself.” “Nonsense,” Adrian frowned. “When did you learn to lie like this?” “Rosalie loves me so much, how could she possibly throw away something I gave her?!” “Go apologize to Rosalie tomorrow. She’s good-natured and won’t hold it against you.” I said firmly, “I won’t!” Adrian stood up angrily. “Lily, you’re getting more and more rebellious. It seems I’ve really spoiled you!” He thought for a moment and decided to punish me: “You’re not allowed to eat for the next few days. Take some time to reflect on your behavior!” Five days after being given my death sentence, I huddled in a corner, trying to ignore my hunger pangs. I was starving, so I snuck downstairs at night to find some food, only to discover the huge kitchen completely empty. All the food had been locked away. After searching for a while, I finally found half a bowl of leftover rice in a corner of the cupboard. It must have been overlooked by the servants and accidentally left there. I wolfed it down ravenously. There were no forks, so I had to use my hands. For a moment, it felt like I was back at the foster home, never having enough to eat. Suddenly, there was a loud “boom”, and a huge firework burst open in the dark sky. It was followed by a second, then a third. Countless fireworks shot into the night sky, exploding in a dazzling display that lit up my face. I suddenly remembered something and ran out of the house with a smile. Adrian actually remembered our promise! Back at the foster home, someone had set off fireworks during New Year’s. I thought they were beautiful but couldn’t afford them, so I could only watch longingly. Adrian had promised me that he would set off fireworks for my birthday every year in the future. I thought he had forgotten that promise after Rosalie came along. I never expected him to still remember. I kept telling myself over and over that I couldn’t love Adrian anymore. But at that moment, the feeling called love began to spread uncontrollably in my heart once again. Overjoyed, I ran into the garden. Adrian was already there. “Adrian…” I started to call out to him. But I stopped short when I saw Rosalie standing across from him. Adrian noticed me but only gave me a cold glance before turning away. He got down on one knee in front of Rosalie. Amidst the spectacular fireworks, he said softly: “Rosalie, will you marry me?” The people around them burst into cheers, chanting: “Kiss! Kiss!” Adrian lowered his head and gently kissed Rosalie’s lips. Rosalie wrapped her arms around his neck, passionately returning the kiss. The cheers from the others grew even louder. I stood in the shadows under a tree, staring blankly at them. Someone noticed me. The mocking whispers started up again. “She doesn’t think the fireworks were for her, does she?” “Where does she get the nerve?” “Talk about thick-skinned.” I fled in panic. A few days later, as I was tidying up my room, I felt the diagnosis paper in my bag. Should I tell Adrian? I had been foolishly hoping that if Adrian knew I was sick, he would feel sorry for me. But now that Adrian and Rosalie were engaged, my death would probably just be a relief for him. Still clinging to that foolish hope, I hesitated for a moment before placing the diagnosis on the table. Let fate decide. Just then, Adrian pushed open the door and came in. I panicked for a second and said, “Why didn’t you knock?” Adrian smiled, “Back at the foster home, we used to sleep in the same bed. What’s the big deal?” I calmed down and said, “You’re engaged now. It’s not appropriate.” Adrian raised his hand and gently stroked my face. “Are you still mad at me?” I stepped back a few paces: “No.” “I was wrong to be upset about Rosalie before. It won’t happen again.” Adrian lowered his hand, looking quite displeased. He used to always think I wasn’t well-behaved enough, that I embarrassed him. Now that I was being obedient, he still didn’t seem happy. Adrian seemed to remember something and took a deep breath to calm himself. “Forget it, you haven’t been feeling well lately. I won’t argue with you.” “How did your check-up go the other day? What did the doctor say?” So Adrian did still care about me. I stared at the test results on the table not far away, and decided to tell the truth. “The doctor said…” Before I could finish, Adrian’s phone rang. Rosalie’s coquettish voice came through from the other end. “Adrian, where are you? Didn’t you say you’d come have dinner with me?” Adrian coaxed her: “I’ll be right there.” I grabbed Adrian’s sleeve: “I wasn’t done talking.” After hanging up, Adrian irritably swatted my hand away: “I have something to do now. We’ll talk when I get back.” With that, he hurried out the door. He was really in a rush to have dinner with Rosalie, swatting my hand quite forcefully. He really seemed to love Rosalie. My hand was red and swollen in no time. I rubbed my swollen hand, unsure if it was my hand or my heart that hurt more. I spent a week knitting a scarf for Adrian. This was one of the promises between us. When I first came to Adrian’s house, his birthday was coming up. I had no money since Adrian’s family provided everything for me, so I couldn’t afford expensive gifts like the other young ladies and gentlemen. Adrian was always cold. After much thought, I knitted him a scarf. After that, giving him a scarf on his birthday became a tradition. Adrian’s birthday was still two months away, but I only had half a month left, so I wouldn’t be able to give it to him on his actual birthday. I had to prepare it early. I knitted and unraveled the scarf over and over, never quite satisfied, afraid Adrian wouldn’t like it. I took the scarf and went downstairs to find Adrian. At the turn of the staircase, I heard many people talking. “Adrian, now that you’re engaged to Rosalie, why don’t you give that Lily girl to me!” “She may be a beggar, but she’s not bad looking!” “You’re not picky at all. Aren’t you afraid she’ll stink, coming from such a lowly background?” Adrian’s voice was lazy: “She’s just a filthy, stinking beggar. Nothing but a burden. If you’re not afraid of your dad skinning you alive, feel free to take her.” Amidst their raucous laughter, I walked over and handed Adrian the box containing the scarf. Seeing me, Adrian’s face became a bit unnatural. “What’s this?” “A birthday gift,” I replied calmly. Adrian looked confused and very uneasy: “Why not wait until my actual birthday to give it to me?” “I saw some nice yarn and decided to knit it.” Adrian was about to say something when Rosalie interrupted. “What nice thing is it? Let me see!” She opened the box and pinched the gray scarf between two fingers. It was a very disdainful gesture. But she said, “Lily, you’re so skilled!” She turned to Adrian and said, “Adrian, I really like this scarf. Give it to me!” Adrian glanced at me and said softly to her, “This scarf is just cheap stuff. I’ll buy you a nice one tomorrow.” Rosalie pouted and whined, “No, I want this one!” Adrian was amused by her act. “Alright, alright. It’s yours. You can play with it.” With that, he personally put the scarf around Rosalie’s neck. I said, “Adrian, that’s something I gave to you. If you don’t like it, give it back to me.” “Lily, aren’t you happy that I got the gift?” Rosalie blinked her eyes, looking innocently at me. Adrian’s expression became stern: “Lily, don’t be so petty.” My heart was pounding, and I could feel the blood rushing to my head. The familiar headache came back. I rushed into my bedroom, found a pair of scissors, grabbed the scarf around Rosalie’s neck, and started cutting furiously! “Ah—” Rosalie thought I was trying to kill her and let out a piercing scream. Adrian hurried over to pull me away. “Lily, stop! Don’t go crazy!” In the struggle, the scissors left a bloody scratch on Rosalie’s face. It also cut my hand, blood flowing freely. With a loud rip, the scarf tore in two. Adrian grabbed my hand and slapped me hard across the face! I fell to the ground. “Lily, don’t push it too far!” “It’s just a piece of trash, I don’t want it anymore, okay?!” Rosalie yelled as she tore off the ruined scarf and threw it in the trash. Then she came over and kicked me several times to vent her anger. Adrian held her back and coldly told me: “Get out!” This was the second time Adrian had told me to “get out.” I tried to get up, but I had no strength. I wasn’t sure if it was because of Adrian’s slap or because of the tumor. My nose felt hot, and then blood started gushing out uncontrollably. My vision flickered, and everything became blurry. I couldn’t see anymore. Adrian’s expression changed when he saw me covered in blood. I lay in the hospital bed, my vision completely dark. I waved my hand in front of my face but couldn’t see anything. Death was getting closer and closer. Adrian was talking to his assistant outside the hospital room. The assistant said: “Don’t worry, sir. The country’s top dermatologists and plastic surgeons are on their way here.” “They’ll examine Miss Rosalie as soon as they arrive and make sure she doesn’t have any scars on her face.” Adrian grunted in acknowledgment. “Lily went too far this time. She needs to be warned properly, or who knows what trouble she might cause in the future!” The assistant listened quietly. Adrian casually asked: “When will Lily’s test results be ready?” The assistant replied: “In about twenty minutes.” Adrian pushed open the door and entered the room. I had my eyes open but couldn’t see him. Adrian started berating me. “Lily, you’re really out of line!” “Rosalie is young and finds everything new and exciting. What’s wrong with indulging her a bit?!” “It’s just a scarf, not worth anything. What’s the big deal about giving it to her?!” I struggled to sit up, facing Adrian’s direction. “Adrian, I can’t see.” Adrian sighed. “Lily, stop trying to gain sympathy now!” “There’s a limit to how much you can lie!” “Back then you took so many beatings and never got sick. How come you’ve become so delicate since coming to my house?!” “What, are you trying to say I haven’t taken good care of you?!” I suddenly felt like laughing. Oh, Adrian. Of course you never saw me get sick. Because I was afraid you’d feel guilty and blame yourself. Back at the foster home, I’d kneel in the snow with a fever after taking punishments for you. After coming to your house, I always endured when I was sick, afraid of causing you trouble. In the end, I became nothing but a joke to you. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I won’t cause you any more trouble in the future.” “I wish you and Rosalie a lifetime of happiness.” Adrian seemed unaccustomed to my calmness. I could sense him staring at me. Perhaps with a hint of concern. At that moment, the assistant pushed open the door. “Mr. Gu, the doctors have arrived and are waiting for you.” Adrian said to me: “I’ll come back to talk to you after I take care of Rosalie’s situation.” The assistant added: “The doctor said Miss Lily’s test results are ready. He seemed quite urgent and is on his way here now.” Adrian paused for a moment, but he had already left the room: “That’s not urgent, we’ll deal with it later.” He and the assistant had just entered the elevator when the doctor arrived with my test results and knocked on the door. They just missed each other. “Your condition is very serious. It’s best if you’re admitted for treatment.” I laughed bitterly: “No thanks, I don’t have much money.” “Could you just prescribe me some painkillers? My head hurts so much, I can’t stand it.” My heart was aching constantly too. I stayed in the hospital for a few days, leaving once I could vaguely see things again. Adrian wasn’t around. Not seeing him and Rosalie gave me a rare moment of peace. That afternoon, I received a video call from Adrian. “Guess where I am now?” Adrian panned the camera around, looking quite happy. I didn’t recognize the buildings around him, only realizing where he was when I saw a large oak tree at the street corner. This tree was all too familiar to me. Adrian said: “Remember when Mr. Thompson used to beat me? You’d help me run away, and when we couldn’t run anymore, we’d hide in this oak tree.” Looking at the tree, I felt a bit dazed, as if I’d gone back to when Adrian and I only had each other as children. My heart softened, and I continued his thought: “In the summer when you were too hot, since there was no air conditioning at the home, I’d bring you up here to cool off.” These memories should have been painful. But now, with death approaching, they felt warm somehow. Adrian said: “We should come back here for a visit sometime.” I smiled and agreed. But the next second, Rosalie suddenly appeared on screen. “Wow! Lily, you’re so amazing! You can even climb trees. Not like me, I’m too scared. Adrian has to carry me up!” “Adrian, I want to climb the tree too. Carry me up!” Adrian smiled and pinched her nose: “No way, what if you fall?” Rosalie pouted: “But Lily can climb up, I’m sure I can too!” Adrian coaxed her gently: “She’s tough, she won’t get hurt if she falls. If you got hurt, I’d be heartbroken.” “Okay then.” I watched them being affectionate on screen, feeling only bitterness in my heart. After hanging up, I curled up in the corner of my bed, enduring the unbearable pain. In the past, I always thought the time Adrian and I spent relying on each other was unique and irreplaceable. Now, Adrian and Rosalie were creating sweeter memories under that oak tree. I no longer had any value to him. By now, twenty days had passed since my diagnosis. Maybe it was because of the tumor in my brain, but I’d been sleeping more and more lately. Most of the time, it was less like sleeping and more like being unconscious. When I woke up, it was already afternoon. Surprisingly, Rosalie was sitting by my bed. I looked at her warily: “What are you doing here?” Rosalie held up a piece of paper, smiling smugly. It was the diagnosis I had left on the table earlier. “So you really are dying. I thought you were just faking it for Adrian’s attention.” “Look at you, a lowly beggar is still a lowly beggar. Coveting things that don’t belong to you will only bring retribution.” “Adrian’s been sick of you for ages. You dying would actually be doing him a favor.”

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I “killed” my sister-in-law and made my brother hate me for six years. For those six years, the words I heard from him most often were, “Why don’t you just die?” He humiliated me every chance he got and even adopted a “sister” in front of me—someone he allowed to bully me relentlessly. That girl made me kneel on broken glass for pictures, forced me to drink nine bottles of vodka despite my advanced stomach cancer, and strip naked to dance for her birthday. I didn’t fight back. But on the final day of my life, I gifted my own death to my brother as a birthday present. Brother, this time, will you finally forgive me? “Nancy, are you out of your mind?!” The sound of my best friend Lily’s choked scream echoed through the hospital room. “You have three days left to live, and you’re telling me you’re still going to track down the people who killed your sister-in-law?! Are you insane?” She didn’t stop there—her face was red with fury. “Your brother? That coward? He had no right to blame you for what happened back then! None of this was your fault!” I ignored Lily’s anger and forced myself to sit up despite the stabbing pain in my stomach. A faint smile tugged at my lips as I replied hoarsely, “Don’t blame him. This was my fault from start to finish.” My brother had hated me for six years. Six years of burning resentment because I was the reason my sister-in-law, Charlotte, was dead. Charlotte had been my brother’s first love. They were inseparable—gentle, loving, and never once raising their voices at each other. She was warm, kind, and endlessly patient. Every time she saw me, she would bring me gifts, sit with me, help me with my homework, play games with me, or take me shopping for clothes. Her favorite thing to say to me was, “Our little Nancy is the best gift your brother ever gave me. She’s the best girl in the whole world.” And to me, Charlotte was the best sister-in-law anyone could ask for. But I killed her. It was my brother’s birthday, a cold and rainy night. Charlotte and I had gone out to buy him a LEGO set he’d been wanting for months. We wanted it to be a surprise, so I took her through a shortcut I often used—a dark alley I thought I knew like the back of my hand. The rest of the night is a blur. The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital, my brother standing over me with rage in his bloodshot eyes. He slapped me across the face—hard—twelve times. His voice was hoarse with grief and fury as he screamed, “Nancy, are you even human?! Why would you do this to her?!” “Charlotte loved you so much—why would you betray her like this?! You knew she was afraid of the dark!” That’s when I learned the truth. There had been twelve drunk men in that alley. When they saw us, they surrounded us like predators closing in on prey. Charlotte had stepped in front of me, shielding me with her body. She begged them to let me go. But those monsters didn’t care. They beat me unconscious and dragged her away. Charlotte endured horrors I can barely imagine. They assaulted her, then stabbed her 33 times. Her thigh bone was snapped in half, and the injuries to her body were so severe the doctors couldn’t even stitch her back together. I remember kneeling in the morgue, staring at her lifeless body, unable to move or think. I had killed her. My brother was never the same after that night. The man who once adored me now drowned himself in alcohol and avoided our home entirely. The words he used to say the most were: “Why aren’t you in hell yet, Nancy? If you died, Charlotte could finally rest in peace.” “Did you know? She didn’t even close her eyes when she died. She couldn’t rest because of you.” “Don’t you hear her crying at night? How do you have the audacity to still be alive?” He was right. If Charlotte hadn’t gone out with me that night, none of this would have happened. If I hadn’t insisted on taking that shortcut, she’d still be alive. The guilt and shame consumed me. I spiraled into depression, but I didn’t dare end my life—not yet. I had to find the men who killed Charlotte. I had to bring them to justice. Only then could I face her. Two weeks ago, I finally got a lead. The private investigator I’d hired told me those twelve men had resurfaced in Bay City after committing other crimes. And two weeks ago, I was also diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. It felt like fate. This was my last chance to make things right—for Charlotte, for my brother, and for myself. I didn’t have much time left, but I didn’t need much. All I needed was to finish this. Then I could let go.

When I returned home, I found all my belongings thrown out onto the front lawn. I looked up to see Renee Grant smirking down at me from the porch. “This room’s mine now,” she said with practiced arrogance. “Take your junk and get lost.” I glanced at Renee. She was the girl my brother, Nathan, had taken in as a “little sister.” When Renee first came to live with us, she was shy and timid. But after seeing how Nathan constantly humiliated me, her attitude toward me shifted. I bent down, picking up my things, ready to move them to the storage room. But as I passed the trash can, something made me stop in my tracks. There, buried among the garbage, was my necklace. I frantically pulled it out, only to find that the pink gemstone in the center had been shattered. A buzzing sound filled my ears. Charlotte, my sister-in-law, had given me so many gifts when she was alive. But after her death, Nathan had taken them all away, saying I didn’t deserve to keep anything that reminded him of her. That necklace was the only thing I’d managed to hold on to. It was the last piece of Charlotte I had left. And now it was broken. I held the ruined necklace up, my anger boiling over as I turned to Renee. “Who gave you permission to touch my stuff?” I demanded, my voice shaking with fury. Renee rolled her eyes. “My brother said everything in this house is mine now. I can throw out whatever I want. What’s it to you?” “This necklace was a birthday gift from Charlotte!” I spat, emphasizing every word. Renee didn’t even flinch. Instead, she sneered, “So what? She’s dead. What’s the point of keeping it?” Before I could respond, she smirked and added, “And anyway, it’s only a matter of time before I’m more than just Nathan’s ‘sister.’ I’ll be the next Charlotte. Go ahead, call me—” She didn’t get to finish. I slapped her so hard she stumbled back, clutching her cheek. “Nancy!” Renee shrieked. “How dare you hit me? Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell Nathan?!” Rage surged through me. How dare she insult Charlotte like that? But before I could raise my hand again, I was shoved back with such force that I slammed into the windowsill, knocking over a large vase. The vase shattered on impact, shards of glass cutting into my face and arms. I looked up, dazed, to see Nathan standing there, his face dark with fury. “Nancy,” he said coldly, “have you completely lost your mind? Now you’re bullying your family too?” I opened my mouth, my voice trembling. “Nathan, she was the one who—” “Brother, please don’t blame her!” Renee interrupted, tears streaming down her face as she played the victim. “I shouldn’t have assumed I could stay in Charlotte’s room. If Nancy doesn’t want me here, I’ll just leave.” She turned, pretending to walk away, but Nathan grabbed her arm and stopped her. “You’re my sister,” he said firmly. “No one has the right to make you leave.” A sharp pain shot through my chest. Before I could say anything, Nathan turned his icy glare on me. “Some people clearly don’t know how to behave,” he said. “If that’s the case, you can kneel here all night. Don’t get up until Renee feels better.” Renee’s tears disappeared in an instant. She smirked, triumphant, and said sweetly, “Well, if that’s what you say, Nathan, I guess I’ll listen.” The pain in my stomach grew sharper, but I said nothing. I knew there was no point in arguing. I lowered myself onto the glass-covered floor, feeling the shards dig into my knees. Blood began to seep through my jeans, but I kept my head down. Nathan snorted and walked upstairs without another word. Renee lingered for a moment, pulling out her phone to take pictures of me kneeling on the broken glass. After snapping a few shots, she stuck out her tongue and skipped up the stairs. The house soon fell silent. The cold seeped into my bones, and the stabbing pain in my stomach became unbearable. I reached for my painkillers but collapsed before I could inject myself. I was jolted awake by a splash of icy water. I opened my eyes to see Nathan standing over me, his expression full of disgust. “Cut the act,” he said sharply. “You didn’t look so pitiful when you killed Charlotte or bullied Renee.” He sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “Today’s Renee’s birthday. I sent you the party details. Your job is to make sure she has a good time.” Before leaving, he added with a bitter laugh, “Don’t think acting all guilty will make me forgive you. You owe Charlotte too much, and you haven’t even started to pay it back.” As he walked away, I smiled bitterly and whispered to myself, “Soon, Nathan. Very soon, I’ll pay it all back.” There was only one day left.

I injected the last two doses of painkillers into my arm, each one barely dulling the searing ache in my stomach. After tidying myself up as best I could, I limped to the curb and hailed a cab. By the time I arrived at the bar, Renee’s birthday party was already in full swing. The room was packed with her friends—loud, laughing, and buzzing with energy. But what caught me off guard was seeing Nathan there, seated right in the middle of the group. Nathan—my brother. The same man who never once showed up to my birthday parties, claiming he had no interest in “wasting time with kids.” And yet, here he was, happily celebrating Renee’s birthday. The bitterness in my chest spread like poison. Renee spotted me from across the room and immediately put on her fake, saccharine smile. She hurried over, looping her arm through mine as though we were the closest of sisters. “There you are, sis! I’ve been waiting forever for you! My birthday wouldn’t be complete without you!” She dragged me to the center of the room, where everyone’s eyes were on us. “This is my sister,” Renee announced with mock affection. “She’s an amazing dancer. I’ve always been so jealous of her!” Her friends laughed, their faces full of mischief and malice. Something felt off. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, like I was walking straight into a trap. Sure enough, one of the guys in the group spoke up. “Since she’s such a great dancer, why doesn’t she perform for us? You know, as a birthday gift for you, Renee!” “Yeah!” a girl chimed in, her grin wicked. “How about something sexy? Like the kind of dances those girls at the clubs do?” I clenched the fabric of my shirt in my fists and turned to Nathan, silently begging him to intervene. But he didn’t even glance at me. His attention was entirely on Renee, his expression soft and indulgent. “Please, sis,” Renee pouted, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “It’s my birthday. Can’t you do this for me? Just this once?” Her eyes sparkled with malice that only I could see. Before I could respond, another voice chimed in. “Dancing is better with a little liquid courage!” Suddenly, nine bottles of vodka were slammed onto the table in front of me. One of the guys winked at me. “Drink up, pretty lady. We’re all friends here. Don’t be shy—this’ll make it more fun!” I froze, unsure of what to do. Renee’s expression turned solemn. She lowered her eyes, pretending to be hurt. “Maybe we should forget it,” she said softly, turning to Nathan. “I shouldn’t have asked. I forgot that my sister doesn’t really like me.” Nathan finally looked at me, his gaze cold and indifferent. “Nancy,” he said in a low, commanding voice, “did you forget what I told you to do?” The air seemed to leave my lungs. I swallowed hard, tightened my fists, and picked up the first bottle. The vodka burned like fire as it traveled down my throat, the sensation spreading through my chest and into my stomach. The painkillers I’d taken earlier seemed completely useless now, the alcohol amplifying the stabbing pain in my gut. But I didn’t stop. As Renee’s friends cheered and laughed, I drank bottle after bottle until all nine were empty. By the time I finished, my vision was blurry, and my legs felt like jelly. “Take it off! Take it off!” someone shouted, and the chant quickly spread through the group. Though I was drunk, the humiliation was sharp and clear. But Nathan didn’t say a word. He just sat there, watching as if none of this had anything to do with him. My chest ached, but not from the pain—it was something deeper, something hollow and cold. I staggered to my feet and began removing my clothes, piece by piece. Renee and her friends erupted in laughter and cheers as I stripped down to my underwear. One of the guys pulled out his phone and started recording, his face twisted in a cruel grin. Then, suddenly, the sound of a bottle shattering on the floor silenced the room. I blinked through my haze and saw Nathan standing, his expression one of pure disgust. “You’re pathetic,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “You’ve ruined Renee’s birthday. Get out.” The words stung, but at the same time, I felt a strange sense of relief. I grabbed my clothes and stumbled out of the room, the vodka and pain in my stomach making every step heavier than the last. I wanted to stop somewhere—anywhere—to buy more painkillers, but my body gave out before I could. Everything went black. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Nathan was sitting in the chair beside me, his arms crossed and his face a mask of irritation. “Get up,” he said coldly. “You’re fine. Stop wasting my money lying here.” His tone was sharp, full of disdain. “You were drunk, not dying. Stop making it look like the end of the world—it’s pathetic.” My lips parted to speak, but the words caught in my throat. He didn’t even bother to get me checked out. To him, I was just an inconvenience. “Brother,” I said softly, my voice trembling with desperation. “What can I do to make you forgive me?” Nathan laughed bitterly, his eyes filled with cruelty. “Nancy,” he said, “how many times do I have to tell you? If you want my forgiveness, then just die.” With that, he stood and walked out of the room. I stared at his retreating back, my hands trembling as I whispered, “I’ll grant your wish, brother. Soon.” There was only one day left.

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On the day of our wedding, my mother-in-law jumped from the second floor and died instantly. From that moment on, Anthony Reed hated me. The security footage showed that his mother had seen me shortly before she jumped. But I was in the bridal suite, getting my makeup done. I never even saw her. No matter how much I explained, he refused to believe me. He locked me in the mansion, tormenting me however he pleased, while parading woman after woman in front of me. At my breaking point, a fire consumed everything. When I opened my eyes again, I was back—back on the day of our wedding. “Quinn, I finally get to marry you. I’m not dreaming, am I?” A voice filled with excitement sounded next to my ear. The next second, I was pulled into a warm embrace. The familiar scent made my entire body freeze. I shoved him away with all my strength, raising my hand to slap him across the face. “Get your hands off me. You make me sick.” The crisp sound of the slap echoed through the room. Anthony stared at me, stunned. “Quinn, what’s wrong? Why did you hit me?” My pupils shrank as I looked down at my trembling hand, red from the force of the slap. My gaze swept the room in confusion. This… was the bridal suite? Had I been reborn? Anthony frowned, concern flashing across his face. He reached out to check my forehead. “Quinn, did you not sleep well last night? Why don’t you rest for a bit? The ceremony won’t start for a while.” In my last life, it was on this very day that Anthony’s mother died. I could still see him holding her lifeless body, sobbing uncontrollably. When he watched the security footage, he completely lost his mind. The wedding I had once looked forward to became the start of my personal hell. Taking a deep breath, I suppressed the fear rising in my chest and grabbed Anthony’s hand tightly. “Anthony, listen to me. There are a lot of people here today, and things could get chaotic. Please, keep an eye on your mom. Don’t let her out of your sight, okay?” He frowned, confused by my serious tone, but eventually nodded. “Don’t worry, Quinn. I’ll make sure she’s fine. You’ve been working so hard to prepare for this wedding—you must be exhausted. Leave everything else to me and just focus on resting.” As soon as Anthony left, I collapsed into the chair, my legs weak. My mind was a mess. What if something happened to her again? I couldn’t go through the same nightmare twice. If only I’d been reborn a few days earlier, maybe I could’ve stopped this wedding altogether. But fate had thrown me back to today, forcing me to face it all over again. I paced back and forth in the room, anxiety eating away at me. It wasn’t until the officiant’s voice echoed through the venue that I finally exhaled in relief. In my past life, Anthony’s mother had jumped before the wedding began. It seemed Anthony had taken my words seriously and kept an eye on her, preventing the tragedy. After the ceremony, I finally let my guard down. Anthony wrapped me in his arms, gently massaging my shoulders. “You were so tense, Quinn. See? The wedding wasn’t as bad as you thought, was it?” “From now on, my mom has fully accepted you. We’re a family now. Remember, you can always share what’s on your mind. I want to know how you feel, no matter what.” I nodded, a weight lifting off my chest. That night, Anthony brought me a warm glass of milk, as he always did. Noticing my low spirits, he didn’t press me or try to get intimate. Half-asleep, I was startled awake by the sound of my phone buzzing. Anthony answered it, frowning slightly. He sighed, leaned down to kiss my forehead, and whispered, “Quinn, something came up at the office. I need to head out for a bit. You rest, okay?” The door clicked shut behind him, and I drifted back into a deep sleep. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I was abruptly yanked awake. Rubbing my drowsy eyes, I looked up to see Anthony’s furious face hovering above me. “Quinn Taylor,” he spat, his voice trembling with anger, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I stared blankly, frozen in confusion. Anthony Reed didn’t care that I was wearing nothing but a thin nightgown. He grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the bedroom forcefully. Panicked, I clutched my chest to keep myself covered, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. No matter how much I screamed or begged him to stop, he didn’t listen. He was like a man possessed, his grip unrelenting as he pulled me through the house. The mansion was fully lit, and the household staff stood in two neat rows, their faces tense and uneasy. Anthony flung me down the stairs. I tumbled, rolling down step after step, until I finally hit the cold, hard floor. Disoriented and aching all over, my hand brushed against something icy and wet. Ignoring the pain, I turned my head to look. What I saw made my breath catch in my throat. It was… my mother-in-law. She lay in a pool of blood, her lifeless eyes wide open, her pupils dull and dilated. Her face was twisted in terror, as if even in death, she couldn’t find peace. How was this possible? The wedding had gone perfectly. She had survived that day. How could she be dead now, in our home? I couldn’t understand. Why, despite my second chance, had she still died? Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my scalp. Anthony grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back to force me to look at him. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might crack. “Quinn Taylor,” he hissed, “don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” “My mom had finally come around to accepting you. She even gave you the family heirloom bracelet to show she welcomed you into the Reed family. What more could you possibly want? How could you be so cruel?” I sobbed, shaking my head violently. “It wasn’t me, Anthony! I swear, it wasn’t me! I was asleep! When you left, I was already asleep—I couldn’t have done anything to her!” The Reeds were a prominent family, wealthy and powerful. My family, by comparison, was ordinary—completely out of their league. At first, my mother-in-law was vehemently against our relationship. Anthony, however, was determined to marry me. He defied her, rejected every woman she tried to set him up with, and even threatened to give up his position as the heir to the Reed family fortune. This only made her hatred for me grow stronger. She once declared that I would only enter the Reed family “over her dead body.” But Anthony’s resolve didn’t waver. If anything, her opposition only strengthened his commitment to me. Later, when his mother fell ill and needed a bone marrow transplant, I turned out to be a match. When she learned that I was her donor, her attitude softened. Slowly, she began to accept me. I had saved her life. How could I possibly be the one to harm her? Anthony let out a bitter laugh and shoved my head away. “Oh, really? So you’re saying the security footage is lying to me?” He glared at me with disgust, his voice dripping with venom. “Quinn Taylor, I never thought you’d be the kind of person to stab someone in the back. To act so respectful and obedient in front of my mom, only to turn around and kill her behind closed doors. Look at this, and tell me it’s not you!” My head hit the floor with a thud, leaving me dizzy and in pain. Anthony held up his phone, showing me a surveillance video. On the screen, a woman wearing a nightgown identical to mine appeared. Her build, her face—everything about her screamed that it was me. In the footage, the woman said something to my mother-in-law, causing her expression to change drastically. She raised her hand as if to strike the woman, but the woman shoved her instead. My mother-in-law stumbled backward, falling down the stairs. She landed hard at the bottom, groaning in pain. But the woman didn’t stop there. She picked up a vase and smashed it over my mother-in-law’s head. Again and again. Finally, my mother-in-law’s neck twisted at an unnatural angle, and she stopped moving. The woman stood there, disheveled and cold-eyed, before calmly walking back upstairs to the master bedroom. I watched in horror, my body trembling uncontrollably. Anthony grabbed me by the throat, his grip tightening as he leaned in close. “Look at yourself,” he snarled. “There’s blood on your nightgown—my mom’s blood. And it matches exactly with the video. Are you still going to deny it, Quinn? Are you still going to pretend you didn’t kill her?” My eyes dropped to my white nightgown, and sure enough, there was a large stain of dried blood on it. It was in the exact same spot as the bloodstain on the woman’s nightgown in the video. How… how could this be? Was it possible that I really had killed her? I clung to Anthony’s shirt, tears streaming down my face as I broke into uncontrollable sobs. “Anthony, I… I think I’m sick. I don’t remember anything—I don’t remember! I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” In my first life, I had been so sure of my innocence. Even after being reborn, I had clung to that belief. But now? Now I wasn’t so sure.

Anthony Reed tilted my chin up, his voice hoarse and bitter: “Quinn Taylor, you’ve finally admitted it, haven’t you? Tell me—how can you be so heartless? How could you do something so cruel?” Tears streamed down my face as I gasped for air, barely able to breathe. Scenes from my previous life flashed through my mind like a nightmare I couldn’t escape. In that past life, Anthony had locked me away, forcing me to share a cage with the dogs I was terrified of. He had replayed the footage of his mother jumping to her death over and over, making sure I saw it every waking moment. He knew I loved him, so he brought women into the house, flaunting them in front of me, using them to humiliate me. My body trembled uncontrollably as the memories suffocated me. The world around me seemed to darken. Anthony stood up, towering over me with cold indifference. “Quinn,” he said, his voice sharp and cutting, “you didn’t just ruin my mother’s life. You destroyed my sister’s as well. Lila came home from school just to meet you, her new sister-in-law. But what did she see the moment she walked through the door? She saw you kill our mom with her own eyes.” His words hit me like a punch to the gut. “When you pushed her,” Anthony continued, “did you even notice Lila standing there? No, of course not. You scared her so badly she fainted on the spot. Do you know how long she lay there, unconscious? Do you know she’s still in the hospital, in a coma?” He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “You need to atone, Quinn. You need to beg forgiveness—from my mom, from my sister.” Lila Reed. In my past life, she had been a graduate student studying abroad. By the time she returned home, her mother was already gone. I had only met her once—at the funeral. She had seemed so sweet and gentle, but when she attacked me, her strength was terrifying. If Anthony hadn’t stopped her, I had no doubt she would have beaten me to death. She hated Anthony for not handing me over to the police. She thought he spared me because he still loved me. She didn’t know the truth—that he kept me around only to exact his own revenge. Anthony never explained himself to her. Furious and heartbroken, Lila cut ties with him and left the country. She never came back. This time, though, Lila hadn’t left. Maybe that was the reason Anthony didn’t lock me up like before. Instead, he dragged me to the hospital and made me serve as Lila’s caretaker—his way of punishing me until she recovered. After I calmed down, I asked Anthony to take me to a psychiatrist. I needed answers. I needed to know if I was sick—if there was something wrong with me that could explain everything. Anthony’s lips curled into a mocking sneer. “Oh, I see. You want to fake a mental illness now? Is that your plan, Quinn?” He leaned in closer, his voice dripping with venom. “Don’t think for a second that claiming insanity will get you out of this. Even if you were diagnosed, I wouldn’t let you off the hook.” His words cut deep, but I forced myself to push past the pain. “Anthony,” I said, my voice trembling, “I know you hate me right now. But we’ve been together for years. You know the kind of person I am. “When your mom hated me, I still donated my bone marrow to save her. She finally accepted me, and we were happy. Why would I hurt her after everything? “I love you, Anthony. And I love your family. I just want to know the truth. Please, let me do this.” For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—hesitation, maybe even guilt. But it was gone as quickly as it came. He sighed, his jaw tight, and finally relented. The test results came back a few days later. I wasn’t mentally ill. My heart sank as I stared at the report. If I wasn’t sick, then why… why had I done something so monstrous? Before I could process what that meant, Anthony snatched the papers from my hands. His expression darkened, and the air around us seemed to grow heavier. “Well?” he snarled. “What’s your excuse now?” He threw the report onto the table, his voice rising. “Quinn Taylor, stop lying to me. You killed my mom. Just admit it!” “No!” I shouted back, tears streaming down my face. “It wasn’t me, Anthony! I swear!” My voice cracked as I pleaded with him. “Please, just wait. Lila saw everything. She might wake up and prove my innocence. Please, Anthony, I’m begging you—just give me one last chance. I don’t want our relationship to end in nothing but hatred.” Anthony’s jaw tightened, his eyes bloodshot. Finally, he growled through gritted teeth, “Fine. One last chance, Quinn. Just one.”

I looked at Lila Reed, still unconscious in her hospital bed. Maybe, just maybe, this time, she was the miracle sent to save me. For three long days, I stayed by her side. During that time, Anthony was busy organizing his mother’s funeral. He only came by occasionally to check on things. He wasn’t worried about me escaping. He’d rented out the entire hospital floor and stationed guards everywhere to watch my every move. The security was airtight—nothing could get in or out, not even a bird. When Lila finally woke up, Anthony happened to walk into the room. I barely had time to feel relieved before she suddenly let out a blood-curdling scream. Her eyes were wide with terror as she pointed at me, her hand trembling. “You… You’re the murderer!” “Anthony, it’s her! She killed Mom! It was her!” She clung to Anthony’s arm, sobbing uncontrollably. “Why is she here? She killed Mom! Why is she still here?” I stood frozen, unable to react. A chill ran down my spine, leaving me paralyzed. Anthony held his panicked sister tightly, gently stroking her back to calm her. “It’s okay, Lila. You’re safe now. Don’t get upset.” “Call the police, Anthony! Arrest her! She killed Mom—you have to call the police!” “Lila, look at me,” I pleaded desperately. “That night, it wasn’t me. Please, look carefully—it wasn’t me!” I inched closer, hoping for her to see reason, to remember something that could clear my name. But the closer I got, the more hysterical she became. The room descended into chaos. Nurses rushed in, trying to restrain her. Then, out of nowhere, a sharp slap echoed through the room. Pain erupted in my left cheek. I stood there, stunned, the side of my face burning. Anthony’s voice cut through the air, cold and furious: “Get out, you murderer.” His finger pointed toward the door, his eyes blazing with hatred. I felt as though I’d fallen into an abyss of ice. My last shred of hope was gone. At his mother’s funeral, Anthony forced me to my knees in front of the grave. The guards pressed down on my head, making me bow again and again against the cold, unforgiving tombstone. Every time my forehead hit the hard stone, stars burst in my vision. But until Anthony gave the order, the bowing wouldn’t stop. I didn’t know how long it went on. My head was spinning, my entire body weak from the blood rushing to my head. Just when I thought I couldn’t take another second, someone shoved the guards aside and pulled me into their arms. “Anthony Reed, have you lost your mind? What are you doing to Quinn? If you want revenge, go find the real killer instead of torturing her like this!” I forced my swollen eyes open just enough to see the figure standing over me. It was Lily Hart—my best friend, my sister in everything but blood. From high school to now, Lily had always treated me like family, protecting me no matter what. “Lily,” I whimpered, tears finally streaming down my face. “You believe me, don’t you? I didn’t kill her. I didn’t kill his mom.” Lily’s eyes filled with tears as she gently wiped the blood off my face. “I know, Quinn. I believe you. You’d never do something like that.” The cemetery was almost empty now, only a few people lingering. Anthony waved his hand, and the guards immediately separated me from Lily. Barely able to support myself, I leaned on the ground to keep from collapsing. Anthony let out a cold laugh. “How touching. Sisterhood at its finest.” He leaned down, his voice low and venomous. “Quinn Taylor, if you think this is the end, you’re sorely mistaken. My revenge is far from over.” I was dragged back to the mansion and locked in the same cage as before—just like in my previous life. The security footage of that night played on a loop in front of me, over and over. I began to have visceral reactions. My body would shake uncontrollably, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw his mother’s bloody face, accusing me, asking why I killed her. “I didn’t,” I whispered into the darkness. “I didn’t kill you. I swear I didn’t.” I didn’t know how much time had passed. My nerves were frayed beyond recognition. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. The nightmares never stopped. My body withered. My reflection in the mirror was barely recognizable—gaunt, hollow-eyed, and lifeless. One day, I collapsed in the cage. When the maids found me, I was unconscious. Anthony had me taken out of the cage and put on an IV drip. But even as my body recovered slightly, my mind remained a fractured mess. That afternoon, I wandered near the window, staring listlessly outside. Then I saw them. A figure in the distance, slipping through the garden. My heart stopped. My pupils dilated, and my chest tightened as my breath caught in my throat. There they were—the real murderer. The one who had killed Anthony’s mother.

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In the middle of the night, my girlfriend sent me a chilling message: “I just looked out the peephole, and there’s a maniac with a knife in the hallway! He’s going crazy and killing people! He noticed me! He’s trying to get in!” I panicked and immediately texted her back: “No matter what, don’t open the door. I’m coming over right now.” I rushed to get back to her place as quickly as I could. But as I was on my way, she sent me three more messages: “Wait, are you actually coming? I was just kidding! You didn’t take it seriously, did you? Haha.” “There’s no killer, I was just messing with you.” “Go back home!” For a moment, I felt my heart drop. By then, I was already in a cab, my nerves on edge. I saw her messages and texted back, trying to calm myself down: “You almost gave me a heart attack! You should’ve told me right away that you were joking.” Her response was casual, almost dismissive: “How was I supposed to know you’d actually come over? I was just playing around. What’s the big deal? You’re not mad, are you? Haha.” I sighed. “No, it’s fine. I’m just glad you’re okay. But seriously, don’t joke about stuff like this again—it’s scary, especially at night.” She replied: “Okay, I won’t. Haha.” Even though she said it was fine, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. Just to be sure, I decided to video call her. To my surprise, the call only rang once before she declined it. I texted her immediately: “Why didn’t you answer?” Her reply came quickly: “I’m going to bed—I’m so tired. Haha.” I stared at the screen, unsettled. That “haha” felt off. “What are you laughing about?” I asked. She replied: “Nothing, I’m just in a good mood tonight.” That’s when I started to feel like something was seriously wrong. Normally, my girlfriend was pretty serious—she wasn’t the type to use “haha” or act playful in her texts. A terrifying thought crossed my mind: What if someone else was using her phone? The moment that thought hit me, a chill ran down my spine. I immediately tried calling her again—this time, she didn’t decline the video call, but it rang for a long time without anyone picking up. I switched to a regular phone call. To my surprise, she answered. Her voice sounded tired. “What do you want? I told you, I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted.” I pressed her: “Why didn’t you pick up the video call?” She repeated, almost mechanically: “I’m going to bed. I’m so tired.” Before I could say anything else, she hung up. The cab driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Hey man, are you okay? You don’t look so good.” I caught my reflection in the mirror—my face was pale, my hands trembling. The sense of dread was overwhelming. I told the driver, “Please, drive faster. I think my girlfriend’s in trouble.” Sensing my urgency, the driver didn’t hesitate. He stepped on the gas and sped toward her apartment. As we drove, I sent her another text: “Say something—anything.” This time, she sent back a voice message. Her voice was flat, almost robotic: “Say what? I told you, I’m going to bed. I’m so tired.” 2 Hearing her voice, I let out a long breath of relief. “Didn’t you say there was a guy with a knife outside your door? You even said he was killing people! You scared the hell out of me.” She texted back: “I told you, it was just a prank. Relax, I was just messing with you.” “That’s really not funny,” I replied, still uneasy. She didn’t respond again. The more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed. Sure, she’d answered my call earlier, but what if she’d been forced to? What if there really was a knife-wielding maniac, and he had gotten inside? What if he was threatening her, making her pretend everything was fine? Maybe when I called, he had the knife to her throat, and she had no choice but to act normal. As I spiraled, she sent another message: “I’m going to bed. I’m so tired. Just go home.” I started typing a response, but before I could hit send, another message popped up: “Haha.” That “haha” again. Those two letters were driving me insane. Before I left for her place, I had already called the police. Now, I was even more convinced something was wrong, so I called them again. The dispatcher assured me that officers were already en route and would arrive at her apartment complex in about 25 minutes. I asked the driver how long it would take us to get there. He sighed and pointed ahead. “There’s been an accident on the overpass. It’s going to take a while.” My anxiety spiked as I stared out the window at the sea of red brake lights. I tried calling her again, but this time, I sent a video call. It rang for what felt like forever before she declined it again. I texted her: “Let me see you. I’m at your building. If you don’t pick up, I’m coming upstairs.” She started typing immediately, but no new messages came through. At this point, I was barely holding it together. The driver glanced at me. “Look, man, there’s nothing we can do. Even if you got out now, you’d be stuck on this overpass for an hour.” I looked ahead. The overpass was jammed with cars, all crawling forward at a snail’s pace because of the accident. The driver inched forward, but it was agonizingly slow. Finally, a new message came through: “You actually came here?” “Yes, I’m downstairs. I’m coming up!” I replied. Her response came quickly: “Don’t. I have company.” “Who?” “A coworker. You don’t know her. She’s another girl. It’s just… not convenient right now.” I insisted: “Then turn on your camera.” She replied: “We’re all in bed already.” I didn’t dare tell her I had called the police. If someone really had her at knifepoint, I didn’t want to provoke them into doing something reckless. But then, she sent another text: “Did you call the cops?” I froze. She continued: “The building manager just called me. Apparently, the police received a report about a knife-wielding murderer in the hallway outside my apartment. They asked the building manager to confirm it. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was? I had to explain everything to the manager.” “The building manager and security already came to my door. They scolded me for causing trouble. I told you—it was a joke! Why did you take it so seriously?” “Just call the police back and cancel it. You know filing a false report can get you arrested, right?” Her messages kept coming, urging me to cancel the report. The more she texted, the more uneasy I felt. Something still didn’t sit right. She sent another message: “You’re being ridiculous. It’s the middle of the night, and you’re freaking out over some imaginary killer. What’s wrong with you? This is a civilized country. You don’t actually believe there’s a murderer with a knife roaming the halls, do you? It’s absurd!” Just as I was reading her latest message, my phone buzzed with an incoming video call—from her. Oddly enough, instead of calming me, the call made me even more nervous. The driver glanced back at me. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” I took a deep breath and hesitated before answering. What if the person on the other end of the call wasn’t her? What if it was the killer, calling me as some sick joke? What if, the moment I answered, I’d be staring at her lifeless, bloodied body? My hands shook as I accepted the call. The video connection lagged for a few seconds because of the bad signal on the overpass. When it finally connected, the room on the other end was dimly lit, with only a bedside lamp casting a faint glow. Her voice came through first: “I told you, I’m tired.” But the camera wasn’t on her—it was pointed at the ceiling. “Let me see you,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. There was a pause. For a moment, I was convinced it wasn’t her on the other end—that the killer had her phone. But then she adjusted the camera, and her face came into view. She was wearing a sheet mask, looking annoyed. “I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted.” She tilted the camera slightly, and I saw another woman in the background, sitting at a vanity in light blue pajamas. “See? My coworker’s here. That’s why I didn’t want you coming up,” she said, sounding exasperated. I sat there, stunned. So there really wasn’t a killer? It had all been a stupid prank? And she hadn’t wanted me to come up because her coworker was staying over? Before I could say anything, she ended the call and sent me a follow-up text: “Happy now?” She attached a photo of her living room. In the picture, the building manager—wearing a baseball cap and holding a clipboard—stood by the door, probably confirming the police report. It seemed like everything was fine. But for some reason, I still couldn’t shake the unease in my chest. 3The driver hesitated before asking cautiously, “Was that your girlfriend on the call? She looked fine. Seems like she was just joking around. Do we still need to go? The traffic’s awful up ahead.” I hesitated. Should I call off the police? Should I just head home? Meanwhile, my girlfriend sent another message: “Cancel the police already! The building manager called me again to confirm the report. This is getting so annoying!” I replied firmly: “I’m almost there, and the police should be there soon too. This could be serious, so I’ll just explain everything to the officers in person.” She didn’t respond immediately. After about half a minute, though, she sent another message: “Don’t you dare come over!” I froze. Just then, my phone vibrated again. It was a message from her younger sister, Jackie: “Hey, are you there yet?” I was taken aback. “Wait, you’re there too?” Jackie replied, sounding anxious: “You’re not there yet? My sister texted me saying there’s a guy with a knife outside her door, so I rushed over!” I froze, confused. “She told you that too?” Jackie pressed on: “Why aren’t you there already? You were closer than me! Don’t tell me you didn’t come.” I quickly explained: “I’m stuck in traffic on the overpass!” Jackie’s reply came fast: “Hurry up! Something’s seriously wrong with her!” “She told me it was just a joke,” I replied, my hands starting to tremble. “She said not to come over, that she had company, and even FaceTimed me to prove it.” Jackie’s response was sharp: “She said the same thing to me. Told me the guy with the knife wasn’t real, that it was all a joke, and to stay home.” “And?” “Then she told me not to call the police.” I was stunned. “She told you that too?” “Yeah,” Jackie replied. “She’s in trouble. I’m sure of it.” “How can you be so sure?” I asked, my pulse racing. Jackie responded with urgency: “Because we have a code phrase. If she’s ever in danger, she’ll send me this phrase.” “What phrase?” Jackie’s next message sent chills down my spine: “I’m going to sleep. I’m so tired.” My heart stopped. I scrolled back through our messages, my hands shaking. “What do you want? I’m going to sleep. I’m so tired.” “Say something. I’m going to sleep. I’m so tired.” “I’m going to sleep. I’m so tired. Just go home.” I felt a cold sweat break out across my body. She had been begging for help the whole time. Jackie sent another message, sharing her conversation with my girlfriend: Jackie: Is the guy with the knife still outside? Girlfriend: No, I’m going to sleep. I’m so tired. Jackie: I’m on my way over. Girlfriend: Don’t come. I’m going to sleep. I’m so tired. Jackie: Okay, I’ll go back home then. Girlfriend: Yeah, I’m going to sleep. I’m so tired. Jackie texted again: “I’m at the building now, but the front door is locked, and the call box is broken.” She sent a photo of the building’s front entrance. The door was locked tight, and the call box looked like someone had smashed it with a knife. I asked quickly: “You didn’t tell her you were coming, did you?” “No,” Jackie replied. “I’m sure she’s being threatened by that guy, so I didn’t say anything!” “Are you alone?” “Of course not! I brought my boyfriend, Nate. He went to find the building manager and security.” I told her: “Stay hidden somewhere safe. The police should be there soon. I’m still stuck in traffic, but don’t go upstairs alone! That guy could be wandering the halls, and if he sees you…” “I know! I’m waiting for Nate,” she replied. “Has he found anyone yet? If not, let me add him. Send me his contact info.” I had only met Nate twice before, and we didn’t have each other’s numbers. Jackie quickly sent me his profile. His avatar was a cartoon sheep. I sent him a friend request: “Hey, I’m Jackie’s brother-in-law. I’m on my way. Add me.” The request just sat there, unanswered. The driver let out a frustrated sigh as the car crawled forward. The overpass was still a sea of brake lights, and we were barely moving. I messaged Jackie: “Why isn’t Nate adding me?” She didn’t respond immediately. I thought about calling her but worried that a ringing phone might alert the guy with the knife if he was nearby. After a few agonizing minutes, Jackie finally texted back: “It’s bad. Nate just texted me—there’s no one in the property management office.” She sent a short video Nate had taken. The office, marked with a “Building Management” sign, was completely dark. The door was locked, and the lights were off. “What now?” Jackie asked, her panic clear in her typing. “The manager’s not there, and the security guards are nowhere to be found!” I replied: “Tell Nate to stop wandering around and add me already.” “I told him! He’s adding you now. Just wait a second,” Jackie said. I waited tensely, staring at my phone. A notification finally popped up—but it wasn’t Nate accepting my friend request. It was another message from Jackie. “Nate just messaged me. He says he found someone from property management.” 4 “Where did Nate find them?” I asked Jackie. She quickly responded: “He ran into them downstairs near the apartment complex. The property manager was doing rounds, and Nate happened to catch them. He explained everything, and they seemed shocked to hear about a killer in the building. They said it was the first time they’d ever encountered something like this. Nate wants me to meet him in the management office so we can go check on my sister together. The security guard is there too, so we should be fine. Don’t worry, I’ll text you if anything happens.” I panicked and quickly typed: “Wait! Don’t go yet!” While trying to stop her, I scrolled back through my previous messages. When my girlfriend had insisted I cancel the police report earlier, she had said the property manager had already come to her apartment to verify the situation. She’d even sent me a photo of the manager standing in her living room, taking notes with a clipboard. But this raised a critical question: If the property manager had already gone to her apartment to confirm the situation, why would they act surprised when Nate told them about a killer in the building? Shouldn’t they already know about it from my girlfriend? I explained my thoughts to Jackie: **”Listen to me carefully. It doesn’t matter if your sister is being threatened or not. If the property manager actually went to her place, there are only two possible outcomes: 1. She told them the truth—that there’s a blood-covered killer outside her door. 2. She lied because she was being coerced and said the killer was just a prank. Either way, the property manager would have known something was going on. So why would they act completely clueless when Nate told them about it? That’s the biggest red flag here!”** Jackie hesitated but eventually countered: “Maybe my sister was too scared to say anything! Maybe the killer was threatening her, so she couldn’t tell them the truth. That would explain why the property manager didn’t know.” I typed back urgently: “You’re missing the point! Even if she lied to them, the property manager would still know there was some story about a killer in the building. They wouldn’t act like it was the first time they’d heard about it!” As I was explaining this, I remembered something else my girlfriend had said: she claimed the police had contacted the property manager to verify the situation. To confirm, I called the police again. The dispatcher confirmed that they had called the property manager and informed them about the report. This meant one thing: the real property manager was already aware of the situation. The people Nate had met weren’t the property staff at all. My heart raced as I quickly sent Jackie another message: “Don’t go! Those aren’t the real property managers!” But Jackie didn’t reply. I couldn’t wait anymore. Ignoring the risk of my phone’s ringtone attracting attention, I called her directly. The line rang and rang, but no one answered. I tried again. And again. Each time, my calls went unanswered. Finally, as the car inched past the worst of the traffic, I sent her a flurry of messages: “Don’t go to the office!” “Those aren’t the real property managers!” “Please, just respond!” Just as I hit send, my phone buzzed with an incoming message. It was Jackie: “Sorry, I put my phone on silent because I was afraid a ringtone might make too much noise. That’s why I missed your calls. What’s going on?” I quickly typed: “Don’t go to the office! Hide somewhere safe. I’m almost there. Wait for me!” Her reply sent a chill down my spine: “It’s too late. I’m already at the office, but Nate’s not here. There’s no one here. Where are they?” I could feel her fear through the screen. Anyone in her situation—being lured into an empty office under false pretenses—would be terrified. Her messages kept coming, her panic growing: “Nate isn’t answering his phone. I can’t get in touch with him at all. The office is completely empty. What do I do? My sister just texted me asking if I’ve gone home yet. She says she’s coming to find me. How does she know I’m here? Should I reply? I’m hiding in the storage room behind the office. I told Nate to come find me, but he hasn’t responded. Is he okay?” I typed back quickly, my hands shaking: “No! Don’t tell him where you are! The fake property managers will know if you do! Get out of there, now!” But just as I sent the message, another one came in from her: “Nate’s here. He came to find me.” My heart sank. I replied immediately: “Don’t go out! That’s not Nate! It’s the killer! Hide somewhere else, now!” But there was no response. In the car, clutching my phone, I opened my girlfriend’s chat. The last message she’d sent still lingered on the screen: “Don’t you dare come over!” Then, my phone buzzed again. It wasn’t Jackie. It was a new message from my girlfriend: “What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy? Why would you get my sister and Nate involved in this?”

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Four months after marriage, my husband took in his pregnant and divorced distant cousin. He killed the dog my late mother left to keep me company and used it to nourish her body. He gave her our meticulously decorated newlywed room, which he had prepared for me, and made me sleep on the couch. When I got angry, he scolded me, saying he was just doing what a brother should do. But he didn’t know that I also had a childhood friend who was like a brother to me. When he heard I was wronged, he flew back from abroad specifically for me. Late at night, after returning from the hospital where I had been cleaning up after my mother-in-law, I discovered that my husband had killed the dog I had raised for nine years to nourish his pregnant cousin. I grabbed the bones I found in the trash and rushed into what used to be our wedding room. There, I saw my husband pressing his ear against Zoe’s belly, grinning like an idiot. “Mia, ‘Buddy’ was so smart,” Zoe taunted me. “He was barking non-stop when Jack was killing him, but he quieted down when he heard your voice recording. Haha, I’m sure it’ll be very nutritious for my baby. Jack just said the baby enjoyed it.” I clenched my fists, tears in my eyes, as I looked at Jack. The smile he had worn earlier while watching me call out for “Buddy” in the yard was still lingering on his face. “Alright, Mia. I’ll buy you another dog after Zoe gives birth. Now, go prepare a basin of warm water for Zoe to soak her feet,” Jack said dismissively. I stared at him in disbelief, as if I had never known him before. I had found Buddy seven years ago when I first got into college and brought him home. My mom had taken care of him for seven years. She said when she missed me, she would pet Buddy, and it was as if she was seeing me. Eight months ago, she passed away in a car accident, and Buddy became like my mom’s presence accompanying me. Just four months ago at our wedding, Jack had ignored the mocking voices of others and publicly offered a toast to “Buddy,” tearfully promising to take care of me for life. But now, just four months into our marriage, he easily killed Buddy for Zoe. Enraged, I threw the bones at Zoe’s belly. Jack reacted quickly, pushing me to the ground and shielding Zoe behind him. He scolded me angrily, “Enough, Mia Russell! Are you really treating this dog as your mother? Your mom is long dead, why are you throwing a fit here?” I glared at him coldly. Since the first day of our marriage, my mother-in-law had fallen ill and been hospitalized. I had been running back and forth between the hospital and home, while Jack focused all his attention on Zoe. Every time I returned home late at night, only Buddy was waiting for me at the dark alley entrance. I stood up angrily, glaring at Jack, and ran to the living room where we kept his father’s ashes. I grabbed a handful and sprinkled it over their heads, coldly saying to them, “Zoe, didn’t you want snow? Here, I’ll give you some.” I recalled the social media post Zoe had made earlier that day in the hospital room. Jack’s hand was holding hers, touching her belly, with the caption: “When we were young, you held an umbrella for me in the snow. Now there’s no snow, but you still shield me from the world’s hardships.” I continued sprinkling the ashes in a frenzy. Jack angrily grabbed my hand, shouting if I had gone mad. “Your dad died even earlier. Are you really treating this urn as your father?” I mimicked his tone. His face darkened as he yelled at me to get out. Zoe took the opportunity to cling to Jack, saying she was scared. I looked around the messy room. Just half a month ago, Jack had covered my eyes and proudly showed me the scene he had meticulously prepared for a week. The memory was still vivid. Now, our wedding photo on the wall had been replaced by Zoe’s shoes, and the “double happiness” decorations we had laughingly put up on the windowsill were quietly lying in the trash can. The blanket they were using was hand-sewn by my mother. Perhaps our relationship, like this wedding room, had already been in shambles since Zoe’s arrival. With a dead heart, I uttered the word “divorce” to Jack. He didn’t try to stop me but instead roared “Get out!”

Braving the cold wind, I returned to my mother’s old home. I curled up on her old bed, nestling in her lingering scent. I kept saying “I’m sorry” over and over, and then repeatedly murmuring how much I missed her. In my daze, the phone rang. I answered to hear William’s voice. He was the son of my mother’s friend, a childhood friend who grew up with me like a brother. He had gone abroad in his second year of high school. “Congratulations on your marriage, Mia. I sent some gifts…” he said softly. I held back my tears and forced myself to respond, then hung up, claiming I was tired. He had surgery just last month, and I didn’t want him to worry about me again. The next day when I woke up, my mother-in-law called. She said angrily that she knew everything now. She cursed Jack for being so cruel and begged me to come to the hospital to talk. I initially wanted to refuse harshly, but hearing her weak cough, my heart softened, and I rushed to the hospital. Throughout the long period I had been dating Jack, she had always been kind to me, saying many times that if Jack and I didn’t work out, she would adopt me as her goddaughter. When I arrived at the hospital room, I found Jack and Zoe already there, and my mother-in-law was happily touching Zoe’s belly. Seeing me, she quickly grabbed my hand. Before I could speak, she snatched the jade bracelet from my wrist and gave it to Zoe. “Zoe, this is our family heirloom. Keep it as a gift for the baby,” she said fawningly. Looking at her expression, I was stunned for a moment, bitterly smiling at what this “talk” she mentioned on the phone had turned out to be. “Mom, I’m your daughter-in-law,” I said with a heavy heart. But my mother-in-law angrily shouted at me. “How dare you! Don’t think I’ve accepted you just because you’ve taken care of me for a few days. Even a nurse can clean up shit and piss. A hen that can’t lay eggs has no right to crow!” It felt like a knife stabbing deep into my heart. I looked at Jack with a bitter smile, but he just held Zoe’s hand tightly and turned his head away. I ran out of the hospital room, with Jack following closely behind. He cornered me at the door and said softly, “Mia, to tell you the truth, the child in Zoe’s belly is mine. Mom’s illness is psychological; she’s always wanted a grandchild. I can’t be unfilial, can I? Zoe is already four months pregnant. You’re the only one in my heart. After the child is born and Mom’s psychological issues are resolved, we can raise the child together, okay?” I laughed bitterly and looked at him with contempt, asking if he had forgotten who had deprived me of the right to be a mother. During our years of dating before marriage, I had been pregnant eight or nine times, all of which Jack had forced me to abort with excuses like “I’m busy with my career” or “We’re not ready yet.” My mother-in-law had also told me to focus on taking care of Jack, comforting me that I could have children anytime. Now, it had become very difficult for me to get pregnant again. Jack had once comforted me, saying not to force myself and that we could always adopt. But now that it had come to this point, he was already discarding me. Jack tried to hug me with some guilt, but I dodged him. He reproached me, saying it was just a bracelet and that he could buy me ten more. I rushed to the hospital room door, took off my wedding ring, and threw it at them before turning to leave. “Where do you think you can go? Your dad is in jail, your mom is dead, and all your relatives think you’re bad luck. Who else can you rely on besides me?” Jack said indifferently. I gritted my teeth but had no words to refute. “She has me.” A figure emerged from the corridor nearby, grabbing my hand and looking at me with concern.

“I’m late, Mia. You’ve been wronged. Let’s go,” William said, holding me in his arms and taking me away. I looked at him in surprise, shocked to see him here. Suddenly, tears started flowing, and I sobbed in his embrace. Jack angrily asked who he was. He was about to step forward when his mother cried out that Zoe’s stomach was hurting, calling him back urgently. He left with a parting shot: “Mia Russell, go home now, or we’re getting divorced.” William and I sat in a coffee shop. I asked him why he suddenly came back to the country. He said with a heavy heart, “How could I not hear that you were crying?” I laughed awkwardly, bitterly recounting the heartaches of the past four months since my marriage. I tried to make it sound like a joke, but William’s furrowed brow showed only concern and pain for me. “This isn’t funny at all,” he said. He asked if I would be willing to go abroad with him. I politely declined, saying I hoped to reopen my mother’s beauty salon. He didn’t insist but said he wanted to help me. I murmured a thank you. After spending a night in my mother’s old home, I woke up to find my phone bombarded with messages from Jack. “Zoe’s pregnancy was affected by your scare the other day. Come back and take care of her!” “Mom still needs someone to look after her. Mia Russell, you’re really something, spending the night with that strange man. Now we’re even, okay?” “Where are my suit and tie? Don’t you know I have an important meeting today?” … All I could see were reproaches. Annoyed, I broke my SIM card and flushed it down the toilet. William arrived early at my mother’s beauty salon. As I looked at the familiar scenes, memories flooded back. This was my mother’s lifelong effort. But after my father went to jail, her health deteriorated, and she closed the shop soon after. William and I carefully wiped every corner. Looking at a faded lipstick mark in the corner, I fell into deep thought. It was during a college break when Jack had traveled 1000 kilometers to secretly find me at the shop and was discovered by my mom. He pretended to be a customer, and I was doing his makeup. He tilted his head back, smiling at me, saying I was beautiful. He suddenly tried to kiss me, but I dodged, causing him to stumble and hit the wall, leaving that mark. At the time, we stared at the lip print and laughed for a long time. He smiled and said that when we were 80 years old, we would bring our grandchildren to see this trace of our love. I sniffled and wiped it clean with a cloth, severing ties with my past completely. Halfway through cleaning, Jack inopportunely walked in. He looked at me with displeasure and shouted, “Mia Russell, are you serious? Leaving all the housework undone to come and fix up this rundown shop? Come home with me now.” He reached out to grab my hand, but William stepped in front of me protectively. “Who are you? This is our family matter,” Jack said angrily. William smirked and made a phone call, then looked at Jack with disdain, saying he would know who he was soon enough. Confused, Jack’s phone rang. After answering, he looked at William with surprise, then hurriedly left, but not before throwing one last comment: “Mia Russell, you’ve gone too far. We’re getting divorced tomorrow.” William explained to me that he had just notified his company to cut off business with Jack’s company. I was surprised that he had business dealings with Jack’s company. “It’s because of you. And every time I sent gifts to Jack’s company under the guise of ‘Mrs. Gordon,’ they were actually specially chosen for you,” he said, looking at me without hesitation. I turned my head away, feeling unworthy. Even a blind person could see how good William had been to me since childhood, but I had always only seen him as a brother. Now that I had gone through a failed marriage, I naturally felt even more undeserving of him. Suddenly, he clutched his chest, his face pale. He had had heart surgery a few days ago. Frightened, I immediately took a taxi to take him to the hospital. After registering, while waiting in the corridor, I saw a pregnant woman being rushed to the emergency room on a stretcher. Looking closer, I saw Jack following behind with an anxious face. The doctor said William needed to rest in the coming days. After he thanked the doctor and prepared to leave, I curiously pulled him to the emergency room door. As we arrived, we saw Jack yelling at the doctor. “You tell me she miscarried, but why is the baby Asian? Why is my child Asian?!”

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When I turned sixty, I joined the ranks of the divorced. All because my husband berated me for spending two dollars to take the bus. My daughter and her husband didn’t understand, thinking I was being too dramatic. However, what they didn’t know was that very day on the bus, I happened to see her dear father dining with his sweetheart at a restaurant that cost five figures per person. I resolutely chose to divorce him. But a week later, they came crying, begging me to come back. ***** “Enough, stop watching TV there. All you do is waste electricity!” Jackson said impatiently as soon as he entered the house. “Go bring me today’s bills.” “Okay.” I got up, went back to the bedroom, and took out an account book. Ever since we got married, Jackson required me to record every penny I spent. Of course, it only applied to my salary. As for Jackson’s salary, I never saw it in forty years of marriage. I handed the account book to Jackson, and he began to scrutinize it. “Aubrey, you spent two dollars taking the bus today?” Jackson looked up at me, frowning. “Don’t you have a senior card?” “I forgot to bring it,” I explained softly. “Forgot? Are you stupid?” Jackson glared. “Don’t you know these two dollars could buy a big bundle of vegetables! “Besides, couldn’t you have walked back if you forgot it? You have nothing to do all day. Why are you even taking the bus!” At this, I froze in place. In addition to taking on all the housework, I also had to take care of Ella, Dylan, and my grandson, and cater to Jackson. I was so exhausted that my back ached and I couldn’t straighten up, yet Jackson actually said I had nothing to do. Most importantly, these two dollars came from my retirement salary. I felt even more upset and looked at Jackson with growing coldness. “All these years, the money spent has been from my salary. Where’s yours?” At this, a flash of unease showed in Jackson’s eyes. “What do you mean, yours and mine? Isn’t it all for this family? “Aubrey, you’re sixty years old. Can’t you stop being so petty?” I thought, “Petty? If I was really like that, Jackson wouldn’t be dining with Madison in such a fancy restaurant today!” Thinking of how my decades of hard work were met with scolding for spending two dollars to take the bus, I couldn’t bear it anymore. I glared at Jackson. “Jackson! You will hand over your salary details to me today!” At that, Jackson instantly became enraged with shame. “Aubrey, are you out of your mind, making a big fuss over such a small thing? “Do you still care about me or this family at all? “Money, money, money, that’s all you think about!” At this, a hint of mockery flashed in my eyes. I thought, “Did Jackson forget how he just insulted me over a mere two dollars?” I suddenly felt the man I had been with for decades was a complete stranger. But thinking of Ella and her family, I decided to give Jackson one last chance. I said coldly, “Where did you go today?” “Why… why are you asking that?” Jackson’s eyes flashed with a hint of unease. “Why do I feel like there’s a scent of perfume on you.” I moved closer to Jackson step by step, my tone meaningful. However, Jackson still refused to tell me the truth. “Enough, stop making wild accusations! “I played cards with Mason Blake and the others all day. How could there be perfume on me.” With that, Jackson tugged at his collar and sniffed. “Stirring up trouble every day. Why don’t you spend more time reading or catching up on the news instead? “Uneducated bumpkin!” With that, Jackson headed towards the bedroom. Watching his back, I stood frozen, my eyes brimming with deep disappointment. Even now, he was still unwilling to be honest with me. And he even looked down on me for being uneducated! Back when I got into graduate school, it was Jackson who begged me to drop out, begged me to keep the child in my belly. Now, he looked down on me for lacking education. I was utterly heartbroken, my heart slowly turning cold and hard. At that moment, I realized that this marriage, this man, was no longer worth it.

Early the next morning, before dawn, Jackson yanked me out of bed. “Aubrey, didn’t I tell you a few days ago that Mason wanted to drink the meat soup you stew! “Why aren’t you hurrying to go make it? “I’m going to take it with me when I go play cards later!” At this, I didn’t say anything but looked at the clock on the wall. The hands just pointed to four o’clock! I instantly felt a burst of anger! This was already the eighth time this month Jackson had woken me up before 5 AM to make nutritious breakfasts for his few card-playing buddies. “Aubrey, why aren’t you moving? There won’t be enough time later!” “Why should I make it for your card buddies? Make it yourself!” I said unhappily and crawled back under the covers. Anyway, I had already made up my mind to leave Jackson, so why should I still serve him? At that, Jackson’s face instantly darkened. “Aubrey! Are you making it or not!” “No!” The next second, Jackson went directly to the bathroom, got a whole basin of cold water, and poured it on my head. “Are you crazy!” I glared at Jackson, my body shivering uncontrollably from the cold. “Do you know how cold that water is!” At this, Jackson said coldly, “Serves you right! “If you had obediently gotten up to make the soup, would I be doing this? “This is punishment for your disobedience!” At this, I froze in place. I didn’t expect Jackson to be so cruel to me. I only rebelled against him once, and he punished me like this. Perhaps in his heart, he never treated me as a wife. My heart ached terribly. I was heartbroken to the extreme, and my eyes reddened. “Alright! Get to the kitchen!” Jackson urged impatiently. I walked silently to the kitchen. I really didn’t want to have any interaction with Jackson anymore. I stewed soup for a full two hours in my wet clothes, and my heart completely turned cold and hard. After Jackson left with the lunch boxes, I didn’t hesitate to start packing my things, clothes, shoes… Only then did I realize how pitifully few things I had, not even a single piece of jewelry. My heart grew more and more bitter. I didn’t understand how I had lived so poorly for the past few decades. Just then, the phone rang. I quickly looked at the screen. Seeing it was Jackson’s number, I hesitated for a few seconds but still pressed the answer button! “Hey! Hurry and bring 10 thousand dollars to the hospital!” Jackson sounded extremely agitated. “What happened?” I couldn’t help frowning. “Don’t ask! Just hurry and bring the money! It’s a life or death situation!” With that, Jackson hung up the phone. After struggling for a few minutes, I sent Ella a message, then hurried to the bank to withdraw 10 thousand dollars and rushed to the hospital. However, when I arrived at the hospital out of breath, I saw Jackson in the ward carefully peeling an apple for Madison, who was lying in the hospital bed. I froze, a strong bitterness welling up in my heart. Since knowing Jackson, this was the first time I had seen him be so gentle and attentive. It was a pity that side of him only belonged to Madison, the sweetheart who had remained unshakable in Jackson’s heart for decades! Seeing that nothing serious had happened to Jackson, I turned to leave with the money in hand. Just then, Madison saw me and waved at me through the ward door. “Aubrey, come in!” At that, a hint of struggle flashed across my face. I hesitated for a few seconds but still pushed open the door before me.

“Aubrey, what took you so long!” Seeing me, Jackson frowned, his tone filled with impatience. I ignored him and looked at the diamond necklace around Madison’s neck. I had seen it before, in the drawer of Jackson’s study. I thought it was a surprise Jackson had prepared for me and was happy for a long time. It turned out I was deluding myself. It was never meant for me. I was so sad as if a huge hand was tightly gripping my heart, suffocating me! “Enough! What are you waiting for? Hurry up and take out the money!” Jackson’s voice rang out, only then bringing me back to my senses. “What exactly happened? Why do you need so much money!” I asked as I unzipped my bag. “It’s nothing, Aubrey.” Madison looked at me, smiling from the hospital bed. “I just want an eyebrow lift, and Jackson insisted on paying for the surgery.” At this, I paused and looked at Madison in disbelief and then at Jackson. “Eyebrow lift surgery?” “Yes, I feel like my eyebrows are drooping…” Madison went on and on, and my face grew paler and paler. Last night, Jackson flew into a rage at me for spending two dollars, but today, he could so generously take out 10 thousand dollars. It turned out the difference between loving someone and not was really obvious. I was utterly disappointed! I silently zipped the bag back up halfway. Jackson’s eyes widened in surprise at this. “What are you doing?” “Are you really going to use my salary for your lover’s surgery?” I looked at Jackson and said coldly. At this, Jackson’s face immediately darkened. Madison saw this and raised an eyebrow. “Jackson, if Aubrey is unwilling, then forget it. “But I’m a little curious. How could you let Aubrey, a rural woman, control the finances in your family?” My eyes turned cold. “What’s wrong with being a rural woman? “Without farmers, where would the food you eat come from?” At this, Madison looked at Jackson, her eyes instantly reddening, and she looked quite aggrieved. “Jackson, Aubrey is angry. Should I apologize to her?” “No need!” Jackson glared at me viciously. “Was Madison wrong? “Aren’t you a rural woman? “Look at how you dress, worse than a beggar on the street. “Always embarrassing me!” At this, my nose soured, and my eyes turned red. “Jackson, what did you say? “Since being with you, I haven’t even bought a single new piece of clothing! “Everything I wear is old clothes others don’t want!” “You deserve it!” Jackson said impatiently. “Have you looked at yourself, and you still want to learn from others and wear new clothes!” At this, I froze in place. So this was my place in Jackson’s heart. “Alright, give me the money!” With that, Jackson reached to grab my bag. At that, I quickly held the bag tightly to my chest. Jackson instantly flew into a rage. “Aubrey, do you want to die? “How blind was I back then to marry someone like you! “Give me the money!” “No!” My eyes were red, and I gripped the bag tightly with both hands. Jackson saw this and spat, cursing, “Aubrey, you’re just as tightfisted as your dead mother!” “Shut up! Don’t talk about my mother!” I shouted, shaking uncontrollably from extreme anger. “What? Did I say something wrong? “Back then, I just wanted her to give a few pieces of furniture as a wedding gift, and you saw how difficult she made it! As if I was asking for her life! “Good thing she died early. Otherwise, who knows how much alimony she’d be trying to swindle from me now!” At this, my eyes turned bloodshot. Unable to restrain the resentment in my heart any longer, I fiercely slapped Jackson across the face.

The ward instantly fell silent. Jackson looked at me, his eyes red, filled with hatred. “Aubrey, how dare you hit me! I’ll really beat you to death today!” Jackson said through gritted teeth. I didn’t say anything, my heart breaking completely. This was the man I had loved for decades! I was completely disillusioned, no longer harboring any fantasies about Jackson in my heart. I looked at him coldly. “Jackson, if you dare lay a finger on me, I will immediately report you to the police for domestic violence.” “You… Clearly, you hit me first!” Jackson’s face instantly turned red in the face from anger and he was unable to speak. Just then, Madison, who had been watching, suddenly spoke up, “Aubrey, a little quarrel doesn’t need to be taken to the police station, right? “Besides, Jackson was just talking, but you really slapped him!” At this, I couldn’t help but smile mockingly, “Madison, if I were you, I would choose to shut up. “That diamond necklace you’re wearing is still a shared property of our marriage!” At this, Madison’s eyes flashed with resentment. Then she turned to look at Jackson beside her, her eyes instantly reddening, and she looked very aggrieved. “Jackson! Look at her! I kindly advised her, and she actually said that to me!” At this, a hint of heartache flashed in Jackson’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Madison. It’s my fault for implicating you and making you suffer.” Looking at the affectionate gaze between the two, I only felt my stomach churning, disgusted to the extreme. I couldn’t stay in this ward for another minute. I turned to leave. Just then, the door to the ward was pushed open. “Dad! Mom! What exactly happened!” Ella and Dylan walked in, looking very worried. “Ella, why are you here?” Jackson saw this, a trace of confusion in his eyes. “Mom sent me a text! “She said you had an accident and were in the hospital! Told us to hurry over!” With that, Ella looked at me reproachfully. “I even took time off work for this! “Now look! No full attendance!” Dylan heard this and gently pushed her shoulder. “Why are you saying that? “Your parents are more important than full attendance.” With that, Dylan looked at Jackson and me, carefully asking, “Hurry and tell us, what exactly happened?” Just then, Ella noticed Madison lying in the hospital bed, a hint of confusion flashing in her eyes. “Who is this…” At this, Jackson said somewhat awkwardly, “Ella, this is my friend, just call her Madison.” “Friend?” I laughed coldly and looked at Ella. “Ella, she is the sweetheart your dad has kept deep in his heart for so many years! “Your dad urgently called me to the hospital today just to have me take out 10 thousand dollars to pay for his sweetheart’s eyebrow lift surgery.” At this, a hint of dissatisfaction flashed across Ella’s face. “Mom, you called me to the hospital just for this?” I froze for a moment, not quite understanding Ella’s attitude. “Do you know how busy I was today? How could you waste my time on such a trivial matter?” Ella said unhappily. At this, I was stunned, unable to understand. I never imagined that Ella would actually say something like this. I thought, “Couldn’t she see how awful Jackson’s actions were!” I was devastated. “Ella is right!” Jackson glared at me fiercely! “It’s just a small matter of 10 thousand dollars, and you even called them over. You really don’t consider them at all!” “Jackson, you can’t blame Aubrey for this. She’s just a rural woman. She doesn’t understand much,” Madison added. “It’s just 10 thousand dollars! I’ll pay for it!” Dylan waved his hand very generously. At this, my heart ached terribly. I didn’t understand why everyone was blaming me. I thought, “Why was even my own daughter standing on the opposite side of me? Clearly, the one in the wrong was Jackson!”

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I’m a Blind Girl, But I Never Imagined I Was the Long-lost Billionaire’s Daughter My brothers found me begging on the streets. They brought me home, promising to take good care of me. But on the very first day, the fake daughter attempted suicide. Everyone rushed to her side, taking her to the hospital, leaving me alone at home. After that, the fake daughter kept having accidents, and all evidence pointed to me. Everyone despised me. Until one day, I was kidnapped. The kidnapper called my oldest brother, demanding a ten-million-dollar ransom. He scoffed on the other end of the line: “Lily, what are you up to now? I don’t have time for your games.” At that moment, I felt utterly hopeless. But when I climbed to the rooftop, the kidnapper panicked. “Girl, you’re going to off yourself? Hey, have you considered my feelings?” When I woke up, I found myself tied to a chair. Being blind, I couldn’t see anything, but I could smell the damp, musty air around me. I tried to move my limbs, and the chair creaked. Then, I heard footsteps. “Awake?” It was a deep male voice, sounding young but dangerous. I didn’t dare move or respond. He didn’t bother with small talk. A hand gripped my neck, forcing my head up. I tilted my head back but had no idea where he was, my gaze vacant. After a moment, he asked, “Blind?” I closed my eyes and let out a soft “Mm-hmm.” His grip loosened, and after a pause, he said, “Blind or not, don’t expect any pity from me. I’m going to call your family now. You’d better do as I say, or I’ll kill you!” I nodded obediently and said, “Okay.” I don’t know what he did next, but I assume he took my phone, unlocked it with facial recognition, and called the top contact in my list. After a brief dial tone, I heard my oldest brother’s voice. He sounded casual and slightly annoyed: “Hello? What is it now?” Kidnapper: “Is this Alexander James? I’ve got your sister. You have two days to get a million dollars, or I’ll kill her!” Alexander was silent for two seconds, then scoffed: “Nice act. Tell her that it’s Rosalie’s birthday tonight. If she doesn’t come back, she shouldn’t bother coming back at all.” Then he hung up. The kidnapper seemed incredulous and asked me, “Who’s Rosalie?” I was at a loss for words, unsure how to explain. Rosalie James was the adopted daughter of the James family. When I was very young, I was kidnapped by my family’s enemies and sold to human traffickers. My mother was devastated by the loss of her daughter and became mentally unstable. To comfort her, my father adopted Rosalie from an orphanage and changed her birthday to match mine, convincing my mother that she was me. Over time, everyone seemed to accept that she was me, the pampered little princess of the James family. It wasn’t until my parents passed away that my father, on his deathbed, told my brothers to find me. The day I returned home, my brothers surrounded me, calling me “Rosalie” over and over. My birth name was Lily, and Rosalie’s name was given to her by my father, meaning that seeing her would remind him of me. When Rosalie found out about this, she attempted suicide in a moment of despair. After that, no one dared to call me “Rosalie” anymore. My second brother gave me a new name, Lily James. He said, “You’re so small and thin, let’s call you Lily. It’s pretty and easy to remember.” What he didn’t know was that I was small because of malnutrition from a young age, and thin because I had rarely eaten a full meal. During those years away from home, I was sold to human traffickers. They said I had a nice voice, so they blinded me and taught me to sing begging songs. I only got to eat when I earned money. But my brothers didn’t care about any of this. They only cared about whether Rosalie would feel hurt.

The kidnapper still wouldn’t give up. He called two or three more times, but my oldest brother kept hanging up. He didn’t even get a chance to show Alexander the photos of me being kidnapped. On the last call, Alexander finally exploded, yelling into the phone: “Lily, what are you playing at? I don’t have time for your games!” Then he not only hung up but also blocked my number. The room fell into a deathly silence, and the smell of cheap tobacco slowly wafted into my nostrils. He must have been frustrated, smoking and questioning his life choices. After a long while, I calmly asked, “Are you going to kill me?” He slowly said, “Huh?” Then he started trying to reassure me: “Girl, don’t rush. You’ve got several other contacts. I’ll call them one by one. Someone’s bound to pay the ransom, right?” I gave a bitter smile. Would they? My contacts were only my brothers, and they were probably all gathered around Rosalie right now, celebrating her birthday. No one would care about my life or death. Sure enough, when he called my second brother, William immediately questioned me: “Lily, it’s one thing to be rebellious normally, but today is Rosalie’s birthday. Can’t you let her have this day? Do you have to fight for attention right now?” “Who’s Rosalie? Her or me?” For the first time, I fought back: “Is there a possibility that today is my birthday too?” William was silent for a long time. In the background, I could hear the “Happy Birthday” song and the sound of people laughing and cheering. Rosalie’s voice was particularly sweet: “William! Come cut the cake!” He seemed to snap back to reality and lowered his voice: “Lily, stop this nonsense. Come back quickly, don’t ruin everyone’s mood.” Then he hurriedly hung up. At that moment, I felt utterly pointless. If I had known it would be like this, why did they even bother bringing me back? It would have been better if they had let me die out there, pretending I never existed. Wouldn’t that make them happier? The kidnapper was still making calls, but I stopped him. “Don’t bother, no one will pay the ransom. Just let me go, and I’ll transfer you my savings.” When I first came home, Alexander gave me a card. He said Rosalie got $2 million in pocket money every month, so I should have the same. He’d been transferring money to me monthly. I had never seen so much money before and didn’t know how to spend it, so I just saved it all. The card was linked to online banking, so I gave the kidnapper the password and told him to transfer it himself. He was quite principled and immediately untied me, letting me go. Before I left, he suddenly asked, “Girl, do you want me to take you home? Will you be okay on your own?” I waved him off with a smile, saying, “No need, I have somewhere to go.”

I left and felt my way up to the rooftop. The wind was strong up there, making me sway. I slowly walked forward, the wind getting stronger with each step, until my foot hit a low wall. I crouched down to feel it, and after touching the top of the wall, I managed to sit on it with great effort. The street must be right below, right? I couldn’t see, but I hoped I wouldn’t land on anyone if I jumped. As I clasped my hands together and said a silent prayer, a familiar male voice came from behind me. “Girl, you’re going to off yourself? Hey, have you considered my feelings?” The kidnapper’s voice sounded a bit nervous. It made sense. He had my phone and had made ransom calls to my brothers. If I died, they might really think he killed me when the ransom failed. Well, since I was going to die anyway, I might as well do one last good deed. I sighed and said to him, “Brother, can you bring me my phone? I’ll record a message as a suicide note. That way, my death won’t be connected to you.” He sighed too: “Girl, it’s not just that. There’s also a daily transfer limit on your bank card. It’s only ten thousand a day. Why don’t you come down, and tomorrow we can go to the bank together to withdraw the money?” I remained sitting on the edge of the rooftop, not moving. The kidnapper’s voice softened, as if coaxing a child: “Girl, help me out one last time, okay?” After a moment of standoff, the kidnapper moved behind me, gave me a quick chop to the neck, and then grabbed my waist to pull me back. Halfway through, I covered my neck and said to him, “Brother, I was about to come down anyway. You didn’t need to hit me, it hurts.” “Oh, you didn’t pass out?” He apologized: “Sorry, girl. I saw on TV that people always pass out when you do that.” “Watch less TV.” “Got it.” I was taken back to the kidnapper’s place, but this time he didn’t tie me up. He even got me a towel to put on my neck. The kidnapper’s name was Jack Wilson, a very ordinary name that matched his simple personality. I wondered how he ever got the courage to attempt a kidnapping. After he finished tending to my neck, he asked what I wanted to eat. I thought for a moment and said, “I’d like some cake.” I had only eaten cake once before, on the day I first returned home. My brothers had prepared a welcome cake for me. But that cake had only been cut once before the housekeeper let out a scream, and then everyone rushed upstairs. I couldn’t see, but from their conversation, I learned that Rosalie had attempted suicide, and there was blood everywhere. Alexander carried her into the ambulance, with everyone else following closely behind. I wanted to go too, but William stopped me. He said, “Rosalie is afraid of you. She was shaking just looking at you. You’d better stay home.” So I was left alone in the empty house. I ate a few bites of the cake, but perhaps because I had been used to eating stale food and had never had cream before, I suddenly felt sick from eating too much. I threw up terribly but managed to clean everything up before everyone returned, not wanting them to notice. They were my family, and I didn’t want to worry them. Nor did I want them to think I was a burden. I carefully maintained my relationship with everyone like this, trying to fit in. But in the end, I realized that no matter how well-behaved and understanding I was, it couldn’t compare to a single tear from Rosalie. I was really tired.

Jack went out to buy me a cake, reminding me not to wander off before he left. With nothing else to do, and not wanting to eat his cake for free, I felt my way around the room and made the bed. When he returned, there was a hint of surprise in his voice: “You can do housework?” “A little bit. I can manage by feeling around,” I smiled and asked, “Impressive, right?” As I smiled, I lowered my head, and the corners of my mouth slowly turned down. Actually, I knew I wasn’t just keeping busy; I was deliberately trying to please. Over the years, I had grown accustomed to smiling at everyone. I tried to do whatever I could, humbly pleasing everyone. Afraid of causing trouble for others, afraid of being disliked, afraid of being abandoned again… Just like a stray dog that had been taken in, carefully observing the owner’s expression every day, not daring to eat even an extra bite of food. Thinking that this way, I could hold onto a bit of warmth. I lowered my eyes, not saying a word. Jack seemed to notice my low mood and pushed a piece of cut cake towards my hand. “Girl, eat some cake. Don’t think too much. Those brothers of yours are sick in the head. If I had a sister like you, I’d cherish you more than anything.” I suddenly froze. The soft cream slowly melted in my mouth, but I couldn’t taste any sweetness. Tears fell from the corners of my eyes, sliding down my cheeks and past my lips. They were salty. At that moment, even I was shocked. I was actually crying. Before, I didn’t cry when the traffickers beat me, I didn’t cry when I couldn’t beg for money and had nothing to eat, and I didn’t even cry when my brothers abandoned me. But now I was crying because of a kind word from a stranger. I really was useless. I bit my lip, trying to hold back, but the tears were like a broken dam, unstoppable. “Hey, girl, why are you crying?” A rough hand brushed across my cheek, and I instinctively flinched, saying, “Don’t hit me.” The hand froze instantly, then moved away. I wiped my tears and explained with a smile, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I just remembered some bad things.” Perhaps because I had cried, the atmosphere became particularly heavy. For some reason, I suddenly asked, “Brother, if I pay you, can you be my brother for a day? Just one day.” Before Jack could respond, my phone rang. I fumbled to answer it, and my third brother Christopher’s cold voice came through: “Lily! Where the hell are you? Do you know Rosalie has been waiting for you all day? Why do you always have to cause trouble for us?” “I’m not coming back,” I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice calm. “I won’t bother you anymore from now on.” “You think you’re all grown up now, huh? If it weren’t for Dad’s dying wish, do you think anyone would want to take care of you? I’ll give you one hour. If you’re not back by then, I’ll tell Alexander to cut off your allowance!” I wanted to argue back, but I couldn’t help but burst into tears. Just as I didn’t know how to respond, someone took the phone from me. Jack’s angry voice came from beside me: “Didn’t you hear her say she’s not coming back? What’s with all the questions? Go to hell!” Hearing a man’s voice, Christopher was stunned for a moment, then his tone became somewhat anxious: “Who are you? Why are you with my sister? What have you done to her?” Jack’s tone was hostile: “Who I am is none of your business! And she’s not your sister anymore. Don’t call again! Get lost!” The call ended, and the person beside me sighed, handing me a pack of tissues. “You don’t even know how to argue, just crying. It’s okay, I told him off for you.” Something ruffled the top of my head, very gently, like petting a cat. “Girl, from now on, I’m your brother.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “296204”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance