Category: English

My best friend Chloe Carter was dead set on taking a road trip to Colorado during Memorial Day weekend. I was hesitant. As a woman three months pregnant, the idea of sitting in a car for hours didn’t exactly sound “fun” to me. I tried to politely decline, but my husband Harland Jackson wouldn’t let it go. “Come on, Andrea, don’t be a killjoy,” he snapped, his tone clearly annoyed. “Chloe went through all this trouble planning the trip. You have to go.” Before I could protest, he was already throwing our luggage into the trunk, and by nightfall, we were on the road. Things quickly went south. Chloe swore she knew the way, but ended up getting us lost somewhere off the highway. We eventually found ourselves deep in the Rocky Mountains, in an area completely deserted. The night was pitch black and bitterly cold, the kind of cold that seeps into your soul. Then we heard it—wolves howling. A pack of hungry wolves surrounded our car, their eyes gleaming in the headlights. Our food and water were running low, but Harland suddenly yanked the door open, trying to push me out of the car. “Andrea, you need to buy us some time,” his voice as cold as the night air. “We’ll go find help and come back for you. I promise.” I clung desperately to the door frame, begging, crying, “Harland, please, don’t!” But Chloe—my best friend—didn’t offer a helping hand. Instead, she grabbed a knife, slashed the back of my hand, and kicked me out of the car. I hit the ground hard, pain shooting through my body as she leaned out and said venomously, “Come on, Andrea, we’re friends, right? What’s a little sacrifice to save the rest of us?” The wolves were on me within seconds, tearing at my clothes, my skin. The worst was when one wolf clawed at my belly, and I felt my baby inside becoming their meal. In the distance, I heard the car engine roar as Harland and Chloe sped away. Chloe’s laughter echoed through the darkness, cruel and triumphant. “Pregnant women’s blood really does smell sweeter!” Then, darkness. When I snapped my eyes open, I was back in our living room. Chloe was sprawled lazily across the couch, her voice full of excitement. “So, Memorial Day—Colorado, here we come! The Rockies will be gorgeous, and we can hit the Denver Art Museum while we’re at it. Perfect!” She nudged me with her elbow, that playful jab making me stumble slightly. My heart jumped, a chill running down my spine. I suddenly realized I’d been reborn. I’d been given another chance to face that terrible day. I remained silent while Chloe worked her charm on my husband Harland. Her voice took on that sweet, wheedling tone she always used when she wanted to get her way. “Come on, Harland, you and Andrea have to say yes. It’s just a small favor—don’t tell me you’re going to disappoint me…” Harland frowned, clearly reluctant. “Memorial Day weekend is going to be packed everywhere, traffic will be a nightmare.” Chloe grinned smugly. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it all planned out. We’ll take the back roads, drive at night—nobody will be out slowing us down.” Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. A sickening sense of déjà vu washed over me. The last time—my previous life—it had started just like this. Chloe suggesting a road trip to Colorado. Me trying to politely decline. Harland not listening and dragging me into the car. Then Chloe’s “shortcut” getting us lost in the wilderness of the Rocky Mountains.

I stared at the insurance policy in my hand, my mind spinning. Chloe’s Colorado road trip wasn’t a spontaneous idea at all. The detour into the uninhabited area of the Rockies, the wolf pack—all of it had been planned. If I hadn’t been given this second chance at life, I would have fallen right into their trap. I clutched the paper tightly, rage nearly consuming me. My best friend. My husband. The two people closest to me had conspired to kill me. My phone vibrated, pulling me from the whirlpool of my thoughts. It was Harland’s mother, Evelyn. I took a deep breath and answered. Evelyn’s booming voice exploded through the speaker. “Andrea, I’m bringing over some homemade corn chowder tomorrow—got to keep my grandson healthy!” She paused, adding with a sneer, “If you weren’t carrying Harland’s child, you wouldn’t even deserve this soup.” Her words triggered memories from my previous life. At this exact moment, she had called then too, while Harland was packing my luggage. He had snatched my phone, desperately trying to keep his parents away. Evelyn might have no affection for me, but she adored Harland as if he could do no wrong. And after my death? Those two, who had lived frugally their entire lives, suddenly started living luxuriously. My insurance payout must have funded their golden years. I swallowed my hatred and feigned a heavy tone, pretending reluctance as I said, “Thanks, Evelyn, but Harland is taking me to Colorado tomorrow. Looks like I’ll miss your corn chowder.” As expected, Evelyn’s pitch rose by several octaves. “Colorado? And he’s not taking me and Alfred? What’s going on?” I deliberately let a hint of complaint enter my voice. “I don’t know either, Evelyn. Maybe Harland thinks bringing you would be too much trouble. Oh, I need to pack—talk later!” I hung up before she could respond. Knowing Evelyn and her need to be the center of attention, she would never allow Harland to leave her behind. Step one, complete. I took photos of the insurance policy, then headed straight to a law firm to start divorce proceedings. The lawyer, Daniel Chambers, carefully examined the insurance policy and the hotel receipts for the “Couples’ Suite,” then looked at me cautiously. “Ms. Smith, if you want to leave your husband with nothing—or behind bars—this evidence isn’t enough.” I clenched my jaw, frustration washing over me. He leaned forward, lowering his voice, “Listen, you say they’re planning to stage an accident. If you’re right, go on this trip. Keep your eyes open, collect evidence—anything that proves their intentions.” My grip on my phone tightened. It seemed the road trip was back on. I had no choice. Half an hour later, I walked into my house and froze. Harland was in the living room, throwing my clothes into a suitcase. “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice sharp. He didn’t even look up, his tone impatient. “I talked with Chloe, and we’re leaving first thing tomorrow. Don’t think being pregnant lets you throw tantrums.” I was about to explode when the front door suddenly swung open. Harland and I both turned to look. Evelyn and Harland’s father Alfred stood in the doorway, arms loaded with bags. Evelyn shot me a venomous glare, then began to wail dramatically, “Harland, you ungrateful boy! You forget your poor mother the moment you get a wife! Such a luxurious trip, and you didn’t even tell us?” Harland’s eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. “Mom, how did you find out about this?” Her face darkened, taking his question as proof of his deliberate secrecy. She collapsed dramatically onto the floor, crying so loudly the neighbors could probably hear. “I raised you, gave you my heart, and now all you care about is your wife! What’s the point of me even being alive?” Harland’s frown deepened, his shoulders tensing. I watched the scene unfold, a cold smile forming inside me. I stepped forward, affectionately linking my arm with Harland’s, my voice sweet as honey. “Harland, if Alfred and Evelyn want to come, why not let them join us? Make it a family trip.” I paused, then added, “And if they’re going, I’m coming too.”

Harland shot me a shocked look, but before he could speak, Evelyn got up from the floor and shoved me rudely. “Go pack your things,” she snapped, “don’t make my son do all the work.” The situation had completely spiraled out of control, and Harland had no choice but to comply. I took the suitcase from his hands and, while no one was looking, slipped a new backup phone into a hidden pocket. The next morning, Chloe arrived. Her eyes widened when she saw Alfred and Evelyn, but she quickly recovered, flashing her sweetest smile. “Mr. Jackson! Mrs. Jackson! How wonderful to see you!” Chloe had grown up in the same small town as Harland, so his parents were no strangers to her. Truthfully, Alfred and Evelyn had always preferred her over me. Evelyn’s face brightened. “Chloe, you’re so thoughtful to invite us on this trip.” She shot me a sideways glare. “Unlike some people—spoiled city girls who only think about themselves.” Chloe giggled behind her hand, her eyes gleaming with triumph when she glanced my way. “You’re too kind, Mrs. Jackson.” After the luggage was loaded, Chloe slid into the front passenger seat like she owned it. “Andrea, you’re pregnant—it’s safer for you in the back,” she said with fake concern in her voice. Harland nodded. “Chloe’s right.” I didn’t bother arguing. These two weren’t even pretending anymore, openly flaunting their game. We hit the road to Colorado, and I stared out the window at scenery identical to my previous life, down to the last tree. Anger, fear, and determination churned inside me. For days, Alfred and Evelyn, those penny-pinching misers, insisted we sleep at rest stops to save money. When I dared to complain, Evelyn whipped around, her face crumpling into a scowl, “What, you think you’re too good for this? My precious grandson isn’t complaining, but you want the red carpet treatment?” Evelyn, that iron-willed country woman, gripped like a vise when angry. Harland pulled me close and whispered, “Just bear with it, Andrea. You can rest when we get to Colorado.” I nearly laughed out loud. Rest? If I didn’t outsmart them, I wouldn’t live to see Colorado. The day arrived—the day I died in my previous life. At eight in the morning, my phone map showed we were just sixty miles from that damned wilderness edge. My heart racing, I pulled out my backup phone from my bag, clutched my stomach, and let out a gut-wrenching wail. “Oh God—my stomach! It hurts so bad!” I doubled over, my face pale, moaning in agony as if in extreme pain. Harland slammed on the brakes. “What the hell, Andrea? Can’t you just tough it out?” Tears streamed down my face as I sobbed, “Harland, what if the bumpy road did something to the baby? I don’t care about myself, but this is the Jackson family heir!” Evelyn’s eyes widened in panic. “Harland, find somewhere for her to rest, now!” Alfred chimed in, his voice tense, “I saw a clinic a few miles back. Take her there.” Harland stared at me, sweat beading on his forehead, but he didn’t seem suspicious. At the clinic, the doctor shook his head after examining me. “She’s exhausted. She needs rest and observation, or she might miscarry.” Harland frowned. “Can’t you just give her some medicine? We have a trip to continue.” The doctor’s face darkened. “This is about a pregnant woman’s health. She must stay, or you’re gambling with her life and the baby’s.” I put on a guilty expression. “Harland, you all go ahead. I’ll join you after I’ve rested. Alfred and Evelyn should enjoy their trip—don’t let me ruin it.” Evelyn waved impatiently. “She’s right, Harland. Let’s go to our destination. She can rent a car and catch up. The place is huge—she won’t get lost.” Harland hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the plan going off track. Before he could argue, I shoved my regular phone into his hand. “Here, Harland, take my phone, take my things, take everything. You know I’ll wait for you. Okay?” With Alfred and Evelyn nagging him to hurry up, Harland had no choice. He grabbed the phone, climbed into the car, and paused to call out, “I’ll come get you tomorrow.” I nodded, playing the dutiful wife. As their car disappeared down the road, a wave of relief washed over me. I wouldn’t be waiting until tomorrow. I pulled out my backup phone and made a call. “Hello, I’m at the clinic on Highway 287. Could you send a car to take me to the airport?” I didn’t look back. I caught the earliest flight and landed in my hometown at nine that evening. The taxi weaved through familiar streets as my stomach churned with anxiety. Years ago, during college, Chloe burst into my quiet life, insisting it needed shaking up. She was the one who introduced me to Harland. He was exactly my type—charming, handsome, the complete package. We dated for years, got engaged, and planned our life together. But my parents, Richard and Claire, didn’t approve. As their only daughter, they didn’t want me marrying a small-town man with no prospects. I was stubborn, though. I had a huge fight with them, stormed out, and barely contacted them after the wedding. Until my previous life—until my own death—I never realized they had seen through Harland from the beginning. When I knocked on their door, Richard and Claire were first shocked to see me standing there, then their faces lit up with joy. Their hair was grayer than I remembered, their faces etched with the passage of time. My throat tightened as I choked out, “Mom, Dad, I’m back.” Richard looked over my shoulder, noticing I was alone, and his expression darkened. “Andrea, where’s Harland?” I hesitated, not wanting to shock them too much. “He cheated,” I said softly. “I’m divorcing him. And… I’m terminating the pregnancy.” Richard’s face turned terrifyingly dark. “That bastard—” Claire’s eyes welled with tears, but she gripped my hand firmly, her tone resolute. “We’re here for you, baby. Whatever you need.” Tears spilled down my cheeks as I collapsed into their arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Two lifetimes of pain and betrayal poured out. I had expected anger toward me, or an “I told you so,” but all they gave me was love. The next morning, Richard and Claire took me to the hospital to arrange the procedure. When I emerged from the operating room, I was as pale as paper. I placed my hand on my now-flat stomach, feeling a hollow ache in my chest. “Find a better home, little one,” I whispered, fighting back sobs. Claire wiped away my tears, her voice gentle but firm. “What are you going to do next?” I clenched my fists. “I’m contacting a lawyer. I’m cutting Harland out of my life completely.” I didn’t know if Harland could make it back from the Rockies, but I couldn’t take chances. I had to act fast. Back home, I contacted my lawyer, Daniel, and sent him the evidence I’d collected. “Is this enough to leave Harland with nothing?” I asked. During each night of our road trip, I’d barely slept, constantly on edge, but it had paid off. I’d photographed Harland and Chloe sneaking off to rest stop bathrooms together. The night before last, while Harland was dead asleep, I went through his phone. The evidence was right there: text messages plotting to get rid of me, and photos of them embracing intimately. After reviewing everything, Daniel said without hesitation, “This is enough not only to leave him with nothing, but to send him to prison.” A wave of relief washed over me, like a beam of light piercing through the fog that had surrounded me for so long. When Richard and Claire saw the evidence, they were beyond furious. “Sue those bastards into oblivion!” Richard roared. “Those scumbags tried to hurt our daughter!” I was about to calm them down when my phone rang. I answered, and a deep, serious voice came through. “Ma’am, this is the Rocky Mountain Regional Police Department. We have an emergency. Your husband and his companion were attacked by wolves in a remote area and are in critical condition. Please come as soon as possible…”

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For Memorial Day weekend, I booked flights to take my family to Hawaii. But my dad, Richard Bennett, had other ideas. He grabbed my phone, smashed it on the floor, and kicked me hard, knocking me down. Then he grabbed his belt and started whipping me. “You ungrateful parasite!” he roared as the belt struck my skin. “Do you know how much those tickets cost? When I was your age, I jumped freight trains looking for work and got my head cracked open by cops without making a sound!” I screamed, my body covered in welts and bruises. My mom, Catherine Bennett, didn’t lift a finger to help me. Instead, she took out her phone, recorded my pitiful state, and posted the video to our family’s “Happy Together” group chat. Catherine: [Kids these days only think about pleasure. Can’t handle any hardship. Always flying somewhere for fun.] The group chat exploded immediately. My mom’s brother Thomas Whitman: [My daughter works her ass off even with a 103-degree fever.] My mom’s sister Elaine Holloway: [My son spends summer hauling bricks at construction sites to build character.] My dad’s sister Monica Ramsey: [My daughter’s husband takes the whole family to the dump to sort recyclables. While your spoiled daughter is here wasting money on vacations!] They took turns attacking my “spoiled” lifestyle, boasting about how their children thrived through toughness and sacrifice. So the next day, I canceled the tickets. With my beaten, limping leg, I printed out a registration form for “Back-to-Basics Boot Camp” and handed it over with a smile. If they wanted hardship, I’d let them taste the “good old days.” But five days later, they were crying and begging me to pick them up. ***** I opened the “Back-to-Basics Boot Camp” website, reading the program details line by line, each sentence more gut-wrenching than the last. Wake up at 4 AM for physical labor, rationed coarse meals, communal barracks for sleeping, and physical punishment for rule violations. My cursor hovered over the “Ultimate Hardship Package” for a long time. Then I decisively clicked “Confirm.” At breakfast, I slid the printed registration form across the table to Richard and Catherine. “Dad, Mom, choosing Hawaii was wrong,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “You’re right, we should all experience real hardship together.” Catherine’s eyes lit up. She snatched the form, took a photo, and posted it to the family group chat with a message. [Sophie signed us up for a “Taste of Tough Times” boot camp! Who else wants to join? Register now!] Richard smoked his cigarette, flicking ashes onto the stovetop I had just cleaned. He quickly replied to the group. [Like I’ve always said, kids today need a wake-up call. I gave her a good beating yesterday, and now she finally respects her elders.] Relatives swarmed in, flooding the chat with messages. Elaine was first: [We’re barely making ends meet. My son works hauling bricks in summer for extra cash. We can’t afford fancy vacations.] Monica’s voice message dripped with sarcasm. “Must be nice having the time and money to play around. Some of us have real responsibilities.” Richard and Catherine’s egos inflated from the provocation. Richard puffed out his chest and announced, “Since everyone’s so eager, let’s rent a bus and make this a family event. Everyone can taste the hard life!” Catherine hastily agreed, nodding vigorously. “Exactly! And Sophie will foot the bill—it’s time she showed some gratitude!” My heart sank. With over twenty relatives in the group, the cost would easily reach five figures. “Mom, I don’t have that kind of money,” I said with a trembling voice. “You can’t just—”

I caught my breath. I had only intended for the older generation—those who constantly droned on about the “hard times”—to experience this. Dragging the entire family into it wasn’t part of the plan. I carefully replied in the group chat: [Everyone’s busy, right? Probably don’t have time for a trip.] But Richard wasn’t buying it. My attempt to dodge Thomas’s proposal had clearly angered him. “Don’t tell us how to raise our children,” he snapped. “This is a rare opportunity for all of you to learn some resilience. No one is allowed to miss it.” Catherine immediately chimed in: [Missing this would be an insult to the entire family!] I watched as likes popped up one after another in the chat, then silently turned off my phone. These stubborn old folks wouldn’t budge no matter what I said. Then Thomas called, excitement evident in his voice. His son Ethan Whitman had come home, and he wanted us to stop by his house for a gathering to discuss the details of the training camp. Richard agreed on the spot. Catherine yanked open my closet, and the musty smell of mothballs hit me in the face. For many Christmases, whenever I used my own salary to buy new clothes, she would scold me for “wasting money.” Once, she even tore apart all the clothes I had bought right in front of me to “teach me a lesson.” Now, my closet contained only worn-out secondhand clothes. I rummaged through and picked out the least tattered shirt. Catherine nodded with satisfaction. “Better to keep it simple. We don’t want your uncle thinking we’ve gone soft and forgotten our roots.” I held back a laugh. How amusing that they didn’t hesitate to spend my salary on renting a bus, but now they were all about “staying humble.” At Thomas’s house, a decoration reading “Hard Work, Perseverance” hung in the living room. My aunt Linda Whitman bustled about, setting up two distinctly different tables. The large round table was laden with steaks, roast chicken, and wine. The small square table was pushed to the side, with only a few hard dinner rolls and a plate of watery vegetables. I frowned, but Linda beamed at me. “Sophie, come try the ‘Taste of Tough Times’ meal I prepared for you and Ethan!” Before I could respond, Richard pushed me forward. “Go on, tell your uncle about this project you’ve arranged.” I rattled off the details in one breath: waking up at 4 AM for physical labor, rationed food, communal dormitories. Thomas slammed down his wine glass. “You call that hardship?” he roared. “Back in my day, I was shoveling manure at three in the morning!” His outburst startled Ethan, whose hand jerked, dropping his fork with a sharp clatter. Ethan had grown up under Thomas’s iron fist, either being yelled at or beaten, constantly indoctrinated with the “Spare the rod, spoil the child” philosophy. The guy was terrified of his father. After a few bites, Ethan put down his utensils and muttered, “I have exams next week, might need to study…” Thomas smashed his plate to the floor, shattering it. “You want to sneak off while your elders are still eating? Sit back down!” Ethan shrank back into his chair, lowering his head. After dinner, I was assigned to wash the dishes. Ethan slipped into the kitchen, complaining in a low voice, “Sophie, what the hell? This training camp was your lousy idea, and now we’re all being dragged into it.” I remembered what my cousin Clara Whitman had told me. She had tried reasoning with Thomas, saying times had changed and there was no need to make children relive past hardships. But Thomas wouldn’t listen. He was determined to force Ethan—a kid preparing for his SATs—to “experience the struggles of our generation.” I turned on the faucet, letting the water noise cover our conversation, and pulled out my phone. I opened the “Ultimate Hardship Package” page and grinned. “You don’t want to go, right? They think it’s not tough enough? Well, I have a plan…” Ethan glanced at the training camp description. His expression shifted from fear to disbelief, finally settling on a strange, almost excited look. That night, I sent a message to the family group chat: [Due to high demand, the bus is fully booked. To ensure the elders get the full experience, I’ll lead the younger generation in a separate free hardship program. We’ll go our separate ways and meet at the destination after five days.]

The family group chat erupted with complaints from the elders. Thomas shouted the loudest: “Separate? No way! You kids need someone watching you, otherwise you’ll just slack off and fool around!” Richard glared at me, his voice low and suspicious: “What scheme are you cooking up now?” I was prepared and replied calmly. “The boot camp heard that the elders wanted an authentic nostalgia trip, so they upgraded it to the ‘Silver Years Special’ package. A five-stop journey, going back in time from the 90s Christmas era all the way to the 50s Christmas era. You’re practically going to time travel.” The group chat exploded instantly. Monica couldn’t contain herself: “I’m going to wear overalls and a headscarf—perfect for Instagram photos!” Thomas chimed in: “Sophie, keep an eye on those little troublemakers, and don’t forget to send video updates!” Watching the conversation shift, I smiled slightly and typed: “No problem.” On Memorial Day, the whole family met at the gathering point, dragging enough luggage to sink a ship. “Sophie!” Catherine yelled at me while hauling an enormous suitcase. “Come help! These are all essentials!” I glanced at the suitcase. Thermos bottles, bags of snacks, and even a portable massager. I held back my laughter. Bring whatever you want—it’ll all be confiscated soon anyway. After confirming everyone had arrived, a dilapidated bus puttered up. The paint was peeling, and faded “Hard Work, Perseverance” stickers covered the windows. Richard wrinkled his nose. “What kind of junk is this? No air conditioning?” I shrugged. “Dad, this is all my salary can afford.” He scoffed. “Then you should get a second job. What’s a little hardship in your Christmas generation?” I didn’t bother responding. Since I started working, more than half my monthly salary went to my family. The rest, I saved bit by bit. After everyone boarded, I approached Dale Ward, the boot camp coordinator. “My relatives are here to suffer. Please give them the VIP treatment.” Dale gave me a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, our ‘Taste of Tough Times’ travel agency specializes in this.” The door slammed shut. I stood outside, waving with a bright smile. “Have fun!” As the bus rumbled away, I took out my phone and opened the “Back-to-Basics Boot Camp” livestream. On screen, Dale was rallying the group through a loudspeaker. “Everyone, our first stop is a 90s-era bar to relive the good old days!” Upon arrival, Dale led them into a campsite decorated with flickering lights, yellowed boy band posters, and a clunky rotary jukebox. The elders went wild. “The 90s were the best!” Richard shouted, grabbing the microphone. “I was busy with business then, hitting the bars every night!” He belted out an off-key grunge rock song, his voice hoarse but refusing to stop. Thomas climbed onto a coffee table, attempting to dance disco, nearly splitting his pants. Catherine stared at her phone, posting dozens of Instagram stories: “This is real nostalgia!” The livestream comment section exploded. “This doesn’t look like a boot camp, it’s an old folks’ rave!” “Uncle Thomas is dancing like he’s being electrocuted, his pants are about to burst!” “‘Hard Work, Perseverance’? More like ‘1999 Party Madness’!” I chuckled, typing in the comments: “Just wait, the real show is coming.” Three hours later, Dale led them to a dilapidated farmyard. Faded slogans covered the crumbling mud walls, with rusty pitchforks piled in the corner. Dale’s voice changed, becoming stern. “Alright, everyone, the real lesson begins now. Hand over all your personal belongings—immediately!” Catherine was the first to break down, clutching her suitcase like a lifeline. “Impossible! I need these things!” Dale stood in the center of the farm, expressionlessly pointing at her snacks and massager. “These are decadent luxuries! Sugar-coated traps!” Richard reluctantly removed his watch, muttering, “It’s just a watch, why make such a big deal?” I stared at the livestream, holding back laughter. Richard actually said “just a watch.” When I once saved up for a basic calculator, he called me a hopeless idiot who would never amount to anything. “Richard! Step forward!” Dale’s voice cracked like a whip. “That attitude is the worst form of self-indulgence! Run ten laps around the yard—now!” Richard’s face froze. Under everyone’s gaze, he had no choice but to start jogging, his pride trailing behind him. Finally, all their phones, backpacks, and suitcases were confiscated. The staff even found the lighter Richard had hidden in his sock. Dale’s voice was ice-cold. “From now on, call me Mr. Ward. You will complete all five stations—no one gets to quit halfway. Those are the rules.” I sprawled across the leather couch in the living room—the one I was never allowed to touch—and propped up my tablet to watch the livestream. The comment section was exploding. [These folks love bragging about resilience, but when they actually face hardship, they all want to run.] [This is just the beginning. They’re complaining about losing their stuff, wait until things get really tough.] I stretched lazily, enjoying the rare opportunity to hog the couch. In the livestream, Dale waved a metal megaphone. “Work assignments! Men shovel manure, women take hoes to the field!” Thomas stared at the manure bucket, his face turning green. “I’m a retired executive of a global company!” Dale handed him the bucket. “Executives lead by example. Ten buckets before you eat.” Once they all went to work, I hummed a tune while raiding the refrigerator. Richard and Catherine’s stockpile of gourmet fruit? All mine now. I filled a plate with strawberries and wandered over to Catherine’s vanity, sampling her high-end creams one by one. My phone buzzed. Ethan messaged: [Sophie! Quick—they’re about to eat!] The livestream cut to the cafeteria. The elders lined up with metal trays, receiving portions of coarse bread and watery vegetables. Linda gagged after one bite. “This stuff? Even pigs wouldn’t eat it!” Dale slammed the table. “Wasting food? People starved to death in the 60s!” Linda argued, “But we’re experiencing the 90s! Why bring up the 60s?” Dale smirked. “The decade doesn’t matter. You’re here to taste hardship. Complain again and you’ll skip dinner.” The comment section exploded: [This isn’t a training camp, it’s a labor reform school!] [Hypocrisy alert! They call kids spoiled, but they can’t even swallow a piece of bread!] [Oh, now you care about “decades”? Then stop forcing your outdated lectures on others!] The elders sat with mud-stained faces, glumly gnawing on dry bread. Catherine muttered, “The spinning wheel gave me bloody blisters. Even textile factories aren’t this cruel.” Richard sighed, “Eating this stuff? How are we supposed to have energy to work? I paid good money to come here, surely there must be real food.” Catherine’s eyes lit up. “What do you have in mind?” I drifted to the liquor cabinet and took out Richard’s treasured whiskey—once when I accidentally knocked it over, he made me kneel for three hours as punishment. I raised the bottle toward the livestream with a grin. “To my dear elders. I’ll drink first. You enjoy your ‘fun’ at your leisure.” That night, I sank into the bathtub after pouring in half a bag of Catherine’s luxury bath salts. While soaking, my phone suddenly rang. I answered, puzzled. Richard’s voice came through, trembling and tearful. “Sophie, I was wrong. No more fake hardship, please. Come get us, or I’m finished!”

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Three years after our wedding, my husband Caleb Reynolds forced me to accept an open marriage. He casually tossed out the idea, his voice light, almost joking. “I gave you the ring, the vows, all the commitments. But my body? That’s free. Don’t you want to live more excitingly this Christmas, see what else is out there?” He knew perfectly well I couldn’t do that. I have a condition—lactating despite never having children. It’s not something I can casually mention to strangers. Every time my breasts engorge, I’m miserable—not just embarrassed, but in pain. Without someone to relieve that pain, I completely fall apart. I flatly refused him. Caleb was unhappy. He stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. That night, the pain returned, sharp and merciless. My chest ached, I felt dizzy, barely able to think. Then I felt it—strong, warm hands, firmly placed on the soft curves of my waist. ***** Caleb’s palm struck my face hard, snapping my head to the side. The pain was hot and sharp, but I forced myself to look him in the eyes, tears welling up, stinging. “Caleb, I just want a normal marriage. Is that so wrong?” “Normal?” His gaze fell to my chest, his lips curling with contempt. “What’s normal about you?” As if on cue, my body betrayed me. A wet stain spread across my shirt, the rich scent of milk filling the air. I hurriedly covered my chest with my hands, my cheeks burning red, wishing I could disappear into the floor. “Why are you hiding it? You think I can’t tell you’re starting again?” Caleb’s sneer hit me like a punch to the stomach. He knew how shameful this was for me, this uninvited milk my deepest wound. His mother, Barbara Reynolds, spoke without hesitation, her voice full of venom. “If it weren’t for those wide hips of yours screaming ‘baby-maker,’ I would never have let Caleb marry you. Three years, and you can’t even produce a child.” She pointed at me, her words sharp. “Caleb is too good for you. We won’t let him waste his life being tied to you.” She grabbed his arm. “Come on, we’re going out to eat. I’ve arranged for you to meet several girls. You can pick one.” Caleb didn’t even look at me. He just followed her out, the door clicking shut behind him. I collapsed onto the floor, my heart as cold and hard as the tiles beneath me. It all started when I was barely out of my teens—milk leaking for no reason, no baby. Wherever I went, I could feel those stares, those whispers. I learned to wrap myself in layers, clothes upon clothes hiding my secret. When Caleb and I were dating, he discovered my secret by accident. His eyes lit up, not with disgust, but with something else—perhaps desire. “Serena,” he whispered, “I had no idea you were so… unique.” I curled against him in shame. “You don’t think I’m a freak?” He held me tight, so tight I could barely breathe. “A freak? This is a gift.” After that, he was obsessed with me. He showered me with affection, promised me the world. My body? He worshipped it, as if wanting to melt into me. But marriage changed him. As they say, people stop wanting what they have. My chest ached, not just from the memories, but from the pressure building inside. The milk was flowing faster now, soaking through my fingers. Panic rose in me. I stumbled to my feet, lurching into the bedroom, my heart racing wildly. In the past, when things got bad, Caleb would be there, helping relieve the pain. Now? I was alone, desperate. Trembling, I pulled out the small toy I kept hidden under my pillow, gritted my teeth, and positioned it, hoping to ease the pain. But it wasn’t enough. I felt my body’s heat growing even more intense, unbearable. I turned it to the highest setting, my body shaking until, exhausted, I passed out. In the haze between sleep and wakefulness, I felt hands—large and warm—sliding over my waist. The toy was yanked away, leaving emptiness and pain. “Caleb…” I murmured, pressing against his cool body. It slightly calmed the fire within me. He didn’t answer. His arm roughly pulled me closer, his breath hot against my chest, and he bit down, more roughly than ever before. It hurt, but God, I liked it. He was like a storm, releasing all his anger, working me over until dawn broke. When I woke up, Caleb was gone. The pain had disappeared too, leaving my mind clear, almost light. “Jerk,” I muttered, half-smiling. He was always like this—knocking me down, then bringing me back with moments like these. I climbed out of bed, cheeks flushed, picking up the scattered condoms from the floor and tossing them in the trash. I guess they’re right about arguments being the spark in a marriage. Last night, Caleb was… well, more than usual. Humming, I walked toward the kitchen to make him breakfast. But passing through the living room, I froze in my tracks. On the sofa sat three men, all strangers, each one completely different from the next, like day and night. I didn’t recognize any of them.

I looked around, searching for Caleb, but he was nowhere to be found. My stomach churned as uneasiness crept into my heart. The three men on the sofa stared at me in unison, their gazes heavy, as if I had wandered into a nest of vipers. I quickly tightened my robe, suddenly acutely aware of how thin the fabric was. This was probably just another batch of Caleb’s friends. He always loved bringing friends home without warning, making me play the dutiful hostess, running around like a maid. I cleared my throat and put on my well-practiced smile of a gentle wife. “Hey, can I get you—” Before I could finish, the front door was pushed open forcefully. Caleb strode in, his eyes narrowing when he saw me. He smoothly took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. “Serena, we have guests. Why are you wandering around practically naked?” My eyes caught the fresh scratch marks on his neck, and relief washed over me. Even though we had fought last night, he hadn’t left me alone. My heart softened, sweet as honey. I pulled his still-warm jacket tighter around me, my voice slightly teasing. “I thought it was just the two of us.” He simply pushed me toward the bedroom. “Go change into something decent.” I nodded, completely compliant, and slipped back to the bedroom to change. When I returned, the men were scattered on the sofa, drinking coffee and chatting like old friends. Caleb waved me over to sit beside him, directly facing the three men. He introduced them one by one, “Victor Harlan, a renowned lawyer. Samuel Trent, a doctor. And Leonard Finch—my college classmate I’ve mentioned before, he’s a professor.” I nodded politely in acknowledgment, remaining silent as they conversed. I mentally gave Caleb credit—these friends were clearly a cut above the rest. His previous friends were loud, filled the house with cigarette smoke, and bragged about things that never added up. These three seemed more sophisticated. I smiled to myself as I walked into the kitchen to prepare lunch. Just as I turned on the faucet, the door creaked open. Victor walked in uninvited. “Mr. Harlan, do you need something?” I asked, confused. He rolled up his sleeves, flashing a relaxed smile. “Can’t let you do all the work alone.” Before I could refuse, he took the vegetables from my hands and began washing them, his movements as practiced as if he owned the kitchen. He chopped with precision and confidence, like a professional chef. His controlling demeanor triggered a memory—last night, Caleb had been rough. After easing my pain, he wanted more, and when I begged him to stop, he pinned my legs down, each thrust harder than the last. My cries nearly shook the walls. I pleaded until he finally stopped… “Serena?” Victor’s voice pulled me back to reality, his hand waving in front of my face. I coughed, my cheeks burning as I stammered, “What is it?” “Your pot is about to burn.” I jumped, suddenly aware the stove was still on, and hurriedly poured oil into the pan. The oil sizzled, but I heard his soft laughter—gentle, almost intimate. My heart raced, and my face grew hotter. I shook my head, trying to focus on cooking, silently cursing myself for being so flustered. The men came in one by one to carry dishes to the table, with Caleb, as usual, sauntering in last and doing the least. Instead of apologizing, he grinned. “So, how do you think they’re doing?” I glared at him, annoyed at his laziness. “They’re great. Much better than you.” His laughter sent a chill down my spine, all teeth and no warmth. After lunch, the sky split open as torrential rain poured down. The weather forecast warned of thunderstorms for the next few hours. The men exchanged worried glances. Caleb, ever the king of the house, waved his hand dismissively. “The roads will be slippery. Serena, prepare the guest rooms. They’re staying tonight.”

I pressed my lips together, holding back a sigh. Caleb always put his friends before family. He knew perfectly well I was going through a sensitive period, when I’d rather hide away than deal with strangers. But my hints meant nothing to him. He patted the three men on their shoulders, grinning widely. “Order whatever you want, Serena will get fresh sheets ready for you.” I let out a small huff, resigned to playing the good wife role as I headed toward the guest room to prepare. The spare blankets were stacked on the top shelf, out of my reach. I climbed onto the bed, my legs slightly shaky—thanks to Caleb’s overzealous performance last night. I cursed under my breath, blaming him for my sore muscles. As I yanked down a blanket, my foot slipped. Before I could hit the floor, someone rushed in and caught me, strong arms steadying my body. Thinking it was Caleb, I complained without hesitation, “Oh, now you come to help? Were you waiting for me to break my neck?” After a moment of silence, a low chuckle came from behind me. “Hey, I’m helping now, aren’t I?” That wasn’t Caleb’s voice. I jerked back, my heart racing, to find Leonard standing there, grinning like a kid caught stealing cookies. I was mortified, realizing he’d heard every complaint. “I—I thought you were… I didn’t know it was you.” “Caleb, right? No worries, I don’t mind,” he laughed easily, waving away my embarrassment. His smile was bright and carefree, as if he never had a serious moment. It was hard to imagine him as a professor, lecturing in front of a class. I managed a terse “Good to know,” grabbing the blanket, eager to escape. My instincts told me we had nothing to talk about. But as I walked toward the guest room, I heard his footsteps following behind me. I gave him a questioning look. He shrugged. “They’re playing poker in the living room, getting pretty intense. I’m not much of a card shark. Thought I’d help you out.” I glanced toward the living room, seeing Caleb pulling out his worn limited-edition deck, laughing with Victor and Samuel like they were storming a battlefield. Irritation churned in my stomach, but with Leonard right there, I swallowed my anger to avoid embarrassing Caleb. Leonard proved surprisingly competent, focusing on making the bed with an attention to detail I hadn’t expected from him. He talked like a slacker but worked meticulously. I couldn’t help comparing him to Caleb and blurted out, “If Caleb were half as considerate as you, my life would be so much easier.” Without missing a beat, he responded, “Well, maybe you should trade him in for me then.” My eyes widened, and I laughed nervously. “Don’t joke like that. I’m Caleb’s wife.” I took it as a joke. I thought, “This must be guy humor, right? Friends don’t steal each other’s partners, and we just met. He can’t possibly be serious.” But as I busied myself with the sheets, I could feel his gaze, heavy and warm, drilling into my back. It didn’t feel like a joke. I froze, mumbled an excuse, and fled the room. I cornered Caleb in the bathroom, whispering, “You and Leonard—are you close?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why the sudden interest?” I hesitated, then forced myself to say, “He… he’s making passes at me!” Caleb burst out laughing, loud and unconcerned. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. “That’s a good thing,” he continued laughing. “Means you’re attractive.” His nonchalance stung. No jealousy, no concern—just that dismissive shrug. I suddenly remembered his advocacy for open marriage, and my heart sank. Of course he didn’t care. A guy like him who fooled around probably hoped I would too. Why would he worry about me cheating? Angry, I pushed him out of the bathroom. “Fine! Keep laughing and see how I make a joke out of you!” I collapsed onto the toilet, my thoughts in chaos. My body, the traitor, began responding to the emotional turmoil again. A soft moan escaped before I could stop it. “Caleb…” I bit my lip, hating how much I needed him. That’s why he had control over me—he always knew how to make me come back. The pain in my chest intensified, my shirt already soaked through. I couldn’t face him like this. I stripped off my clothes and turned the shower to cold, hoping the icy water would extinguish the heat inside me. It didn’t work. In desperation, I began touching myself, letting out a cry I was sure would be covered by the rain and water noise. No one would hear. Lost in the haze, I didn’t notice until a warm, solid body pressed against me from behind. I screamed, lunging forward, but the figure behind me held me tight, keeping me firmly in place. His rough hands made me tremble all over. No one else could touch me like that—it had to be Caleb. Still stinging from his earlier coldness, I muttered, “Stay away from me…” But my body had other ideas, leaning into him as if craving his warmth. He didn’t respond to my half-hearted protest, just brushed his lips against the back of my neck, igniting a heat that made my knees weak. If he hadn’t held me up, I would have collapsed to the floor. Perhaps because of our earlier argument, he was different tonight—gentle, almost careful. Each touch was light and teasing, but not enough to extinguish the fire raging inside me. I turned impatiently to face him. “Caleb, what’s going on? Can you just—” He gripped my chin, preventing me from seeing his face. I let out an impatient huff. “Caleb, stop playing games. Hurry up.” His hand froze. A cool chuckle brushed against my ear, then his kiss came like a storm, fierce and unyielding. The water had turned warm, and I couldn’t tell if the flush on my cheeks was from the steam or his touch. The pain in my chest subsided, replaced by a bone-deep satisfaction, even as my back pressed hard against the tiles. Exhausted, I collapsed into his arms. He carried me out of the bathroom, and I curled against him, suddenly shy knowing his friends were still in the house. Back in the bedroom, I dove under the covers like a nervous teenager, my cheeks burning. His low laughter filtered through the blanket, and I felt him kiss my forehead before quietly leaving. I peeked out; the rain outside was still tapping against the windows, but my heart felt lighter than it had in days. I drifted into a satisfied sleep. A clap of thunder jolted me awake. I reached for Caleb, but the bed was cold—he hadn’t returned. “What’s wrong?” his voice came from across the room, and I sighed with relief, turning to answer. But there he was, lounging casually in the armchair, phone pressed to his ear. He chuckled softly, warm and intimate. “Want me to come over and keep you company? Hmm?” My heart stopped, a jagged crack splitting it open. Whatever the person on the other end said made the corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement. He whispered a few sweet nothings, then said, “Wait for me, I’m on my way.” He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door without hesitation. I couldn’t help calling out, “Caleb!” He didn’t even pause, just walked straight out. The door clicked shut, followed by a deafening thunderclap, as if the sky itself was mocking me. Tears streamed down my face, hot and unstoppable. Seven years together—our first love, our everything. He used to love my quirks, my differences. Now he despised them. I’d been blaming myself, wondering if I should have given in to his ridiculous open marriage proposal. But now I understood. He had someone else, someone he’d drop everything for at just a phone call. His so-called “freedom” was just an excuse for his unfaithful heart. What had these seven years meant? A joke? The passionate days we’d just shared only made me feel more like a fool. I cried until my chest ached, until I could barely breathe, until sleep dragged me under once more. I didn’t hear the door open, but someone was there, their weight pressing down on me. Hands roughly grabbed my chest, making me wince. A small gasp escaped me, and the touch immediately softened. Fingers lifted my chin, and a possessive kiss stole my breath, making me dizzy until I forgot to resist. Then lightning split the sky, the white flash jolting me awake. Caleb—he had left. So who was this? I forced my eyes open, staring at the person above me, head lowered, still moving. My breath caught as my eyes widened in shock.

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Dominic Reid is my stepfather’s brother, my uncle, and the entire city knows he loves me deeply. At least that’s what they think. The day he proposed to me with a diamond ring, a sonogram of his former lover Vivian Blake spread like wildfire across social media. She was pregnant. Despite my objections, he insisted on turning our wedding into a bizarre threesome. “Vivian needs me. I must marry her too.” Tears stung my eyes, but I nodded, my heart shattering into pieces. However, on our wedding day, Dominic didn’t walk me down the aisle. Instead, he made me lead a filthy mutt, leashed and panting, while I stood frozen in my wedding dress. The internet exploded, countless memes and mockery making me the laughingstock of Christmas. My mind crumbled under the humiliation. To salvage a shred of dignity, I exposed Vivian’s dirty secrets in front of everyone—every sordid detail laid bare. Vivian stormed out furiously. Hours later, news came that she had gotten into an altercation with some thugs. They beat her bloody, leaving her dead in an alley. Dominic disappeared for a week. When he reappeared, he clung to me tightly, his eyes hollow yet uncompromising. I thought perhaps he had returned to me. Then came the day I gave birth. In a cold operating room, Dominic loomed over me, his hands steady as he cut open my abdomen. No anesthesia. Just the cold blade. He removed the stillborn—our child—and replaced it with the freshly dead body of a Teddy dog. Then, he stitched my flesh closed with rough sutures, each one deliberate. “Vivian suffered a hundred times worse that night,” he growled softly, “you deserve this.” I screamed until my voice gave out, blood pooling beneath me, my vision fading. I died with my eyes wide open, staring at the man I once loved deeply. My soul didn’t rest. It lingered, watching Dominic address countless cameras at a press conference. “Evelyn Crowe gave birth to a deformed child,” he said flatly, “she deserves to be buried with dogs.” Then, somehow, my eyes snapped open. I was back on my wedding day. ***** “Vivian is afraid of dogs. She can’t handle this pressure. Take this dog and go in.” Before I could process his words, Dominic shoved the rough hemp leash into my palm. At the other end was a filthy dog, reeking and smearing dirt on my pristine white gown with its matted fur. A chill ran through my entire body. I was stunned—thrown back to that nightmare wedding. In my previous life, I had stumbled down this path, dragging this stinking dog, becoming their laughingstock. Not this time. Heaven gave me a second chance, and I wouldn’t waste it. Without hesitation, I threw the leash to the ground. “This wedding is canceled.” I looked Dominic straight in the eyes. “If you’re so eager to marry Vivian, then go ahead. The ceremony is yours.” With that, I tore off my veil, lifted my skirt, and strode toward the exit. Vivian’s eyes moistened, her delicate fingers clutching Dominic’s sleeve like wilting flowers. “Dominic, maybe I should leave…” “Evelyn!”

“I want to see Grandpa Silas!” I shouted, struggling to break free from Dominic’s grip. His fingers tightened, as if threatening to crush the bones in my wrist. He leaned in close, his voice low. “The wedding isn’t over yet. What’s wrong with you?” He stepped even closer, his eyes flashing with menace. “Walk out now, and I’ll make sure the Crowe family never holds their heads up again. You know what I’m capable of.” I held my breath, my gaze locked with his. A chill crept up my spine. I’d seen that look before—in high school, when bullies surrounded me. Dominic had flown in from overseas and forced each kid who tormented me and their parents to line up and apologize. By nightfall, their family businesses had collapsed, swallowed by Dominic’s empire. But now, I was the target of his threats. The man who once protected me was long gone. Vivian stepped forward, her eyes brimming with fake tears. “If Evelyn doesn’t bless our union, I…” Before she could finish, Dominic’s fingers tightened—a silent command. “Say it.” I bit my lip until I tasted blood, forcing myself to speak. “Congratulations on your marriage. May you have lasting happiness.” His hand loosened, but his eyes lingered on me with something unreadable in their depths. The reception dragged on, the buzz of toasts and laughter fading into dull background noise. As guests began to disperse, two burly men in black suits appeared behind me, shoving me toward a small storage room. A rough push sent me crashing to the floor, my knees slamming against concrete, pain shooting through my body. My hand touched something wet and foul—saliva from that filthy dog now crouching in front of me, the source of my public humiliation. I pounded on the door, my voice growing hoarse. “Let me out!” Dominic’s voice penetrated through, cold as winter wind. “Stay put and think about what you’ve done. After Vivian is settled, I’ll decide what to do with you.” Then, hurried footsteps broke the silence outside. “Mr. Reid! The hospital just called… they say the elder Mr. Reid won’t make it…” Dominic’s response came slow and deliberate, punctuated by the sound of a kick. “He was jogging in the garden this morning. You’re telling me he’s dying?” Fear surged in my chest. I pounded harder, blood seeping from my torn palms, but I didn’t stop. “Dominic, please… let me see Grandpa Silas!” Only receding footsteps answered me. Despair consumed me. I collapsed on the floor, time blurring into a haze. Finally, a janitor pried the door open. I rushed out half-crazed, racing toward the hospital. When I reached the second floor, muffled sobs pierced my ears. My legs weakened. A gurney rolled past, covered with a white sheet over a motionless figure. “Grandpa Silas…” My mother Clara lunged at me, slamming me against the wall. My head cracked against it, warm blood trickling down my neck. “If you hadn’t dragged us into your scandal, Mr. Reid would still be alive!” she shrieked. “You’re a curse on this family—get out!” I opened my mouth but couldn’t make a sound. Relatives pushed me toward the exit, their stares more cutting than any blade. Outside, rain poured down, soaking my wedding dress until it clung to me like lead. Numbly, I pushed open the door to the home Dominic and I shared. Vivian’s sugary giggle greeted me. “I don’t want that,” she cooed. In the living room, Dominic was feeding her a spoonful of food, his eyes tender with a gentleness I hadn’t seen in years. Seeing me standing in the doorway, drenched and shivering, he froze, his smile vanishing. “Vivian will be staying here during her pregnancy. You’ll take on the role of housekeeper. After the child is born, I’ll consider fulfilling our engagement.”

Silas had just left, yet they acted as if nothing had happened. My throat tightened, tears blurring my vision. “Do you know that Grandpa Silas—” Dominic didn’t even look up, his tone as casual as if ordering coffee. “What about him? Oh right, Vivian hasn’t eaten. Go make her some soup.” I hadn’t eaten a bite since morning, my stomach aching with emptiness. But I swallowed my words and silently walked to the kitchen, where I prepared a pot of soup. When I placed the steaming bowl on the table, Dominic snatched the spoon from my hand, gently blew on it to cool it down, and brought it to Vivian’s lips. “Careful, it’s hot.” His voice was tender and affectionate—like a dull knife, slowly tearing my heart apart. Once, when I was sick, he had cared for me with the same attentiveness. But since Vivian appeared, all his warmth had been reserved for her. I took a shaky breath and turned to leave, but Dominic’s voice froze me in place. “Bring your violin.” I stood stunned, my fingers trembling. “That violin means a lot to me. I…” He cut me off, his brow furrowing with impatience. “The best obstetrics team in the country doesn’t come cheap. The hospital director’s grandson is learning to play, and your violin would be perfect for him. It’s just a violin. I’ll buy you a dozen more.” My ears buzzed as the world around me fell silent. That violin wasn’t just an instrument. It was an Italian antique that Silas had gone to great lengths to acquire from a European auction for my seventh birthday. Now that he was gone, it was the last thing he had left me. Vivian sobbed, her voice quivering, “It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for keeping this baby… don’t make Evelyn uncomfortable.” Dominic’s expression darkened. He wiped away her tears, whispering reassurances, then barked at a maid, “Go to the music room and bring the violin.” I gripped the stair railing, my knuckles turning white. Moments later, the violin that held twenty Christmases worth of memories—its wood marked with the passage of time—was carelessly placed in Vivian’s hands. She smiled secretly, a flash of satisfaction I wasn’t supposed to see. “This violin is beautiful…” Then, she deliberately let it slip from her grasp. The violin crashed to the floor, shattering into jagged pieces. I fell to my knees, clutching the remains, my fingers trembling as they traced the broken strings. A heart-wrenching scream erupted from my throat. Dominic yanked me up by the arm. “Enough! It’s just a broken violin, is it worth this hysteria? Vivian didn’t mean to. What are you making such a fuss about?” Vivian cowered behind him, wiping her tears as she said, “Now that the violin is ruined, what about the hospital director…” Dominic gave me a cold glance, putting his arm around her as they headed upstairs. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.” Their figures disappeared around the staircase, leaving me to stare at the shattered pieces of my past. Even my last connection to Silas was destroyed, beyond repair. I dragged myself back to my room like a ghost, only to freeze at the sight before me. The swing in the corner—its ropes neatly cut—lay on the floor like discarded trash. My space, once a sanctuary, was now filled with brand-new baby items. Dominic had converted my bedroom into a nursery. That swing… he had made it with his own hands, promising this room would always be my castle. Yet in an instant, to please his new love, he had torn it down himself. The door was kicked open. Dominic burst in carrying Vivian, his face like storm clouds. “Evelyn, what did you put in the soup?” Vivian let out a shrill wail, her face pale as she clutched her stomach. “It hurts… my baby…” I instinctively moved toward her, but Dominic shoved me to the ground. My head hit the coffee table, stars exploding before my eyes. A small white bottle rolled out of my pocket, landing at his feet. He picked up the bottle, reading the label, his face contorting. “Abortion pills? You tried to kill Vivian’s baby?” “They’re not mine!” I grabbed his pant leg, shaking my head frantically. “I don’t know where they came from!” A slap silenced me, the stinging pain swallowing my words. Dominic carried Vivian out, giving me one last ice-cold glance. “Evelyn, you’ve gone too far. If anything happens to this child, you’re finished.” In the hospital room, I knelt in the corner, my knees long since numb. Dominic stayed by Vivian’s side all night, only breathing a sigh of relief when she finally woke up. “You’re okay,” he whispered, his voice gentle with relief. “The baby is fine too.” Vivian’s hand moved to her stomach, her voice trembling, “I thought we lost it…” His expression immediately hardened. He carefully adjusted her pillow, but when his gaze swept toward me, it was cold as steel. “Come here. Apologize to Vivian.” Just then, my phone vibrated, the screen lighting up with a message: [Sir Reid’s funeral is being held today.] My heart clenched. I gritted my teeth, struggling to stand, but my legs gave out and I collapsed back onto the floor. Dominic’s fists tightened, his jaw clenched. “Stop playing the victim. It won’t work on me. Apologize, or you’re not going anywhere.” Humiliation swept through me like a raging fire, hotter than any pain I’d ever felt. Tears slid down my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I choked out. His hand paused for a moment, but he didn’t look at me. “Go to the church. Pray for Vivian and the baby’s safety.” With that, he sat back down beside her, gently feeding her soup with a spoon, his tenderness completely erasing my existence. Their world was all whispers and loving gazes, as if I had never existed. I staggered to my feet and stumbled into the biting cold of the street. My only thought was to get to Silas, to say goodbye one last time. My phone vibrated, jarring in the silence. I answered with trembling hands, my breath catching. “Ms. Crowe? I’m the Crowe family driver. Today is Sir Reid’s funeral. I’m here to pick you up.” Minutes later, a black sedan pulled up slowly in front of me. The driver handed me a bottle of water. “You look pale. Have some water.” I took it, tears welling up as I clutched the bottle tightly. Silas was gone. The person who loved me unconditionally would never come back. The cold water slid down my throat, but my vision blurred, my thoughts foggy. I vaguely noticed the scenery outside becoming unfamiliar, but my tongue felt too heavy to speak. When I opened my eyes again, before I could make sense of my surroundings, a heavy weight pinned me down. The stench of tobacco and alcohol hit my nostrils as hot breath grazed my neck. My clothes were half torn away. A rough hand covered my screams. The man grabbed my chin, grinning maliciously. “Mr. Reid said if you behave, I might go easy on you.” Cold terror washed over me like a tide, drowning me completely. For Vivian’s sake, Dominic had pushed me into hell. Tears blurred my vision. My hands desperately searched behind me until they gripped a rusty iron bar. I squeezed my eyes shut and swung the bar with all my strength, smashing it against his forehead. Once. Then again. He hadn’t expected me to fight back. Blood ran down his face as he collapsed to the ground, motionless. Clutching my torn clothes, iron bar in hand, I stumbled out the door. Blinding light greeted me, and I blinked in confusion. Not far away, the golden sign of Reid Group gleamed coldly in the daylight. Three Christmases ago, on a stormy night, I got lost in this factory. Dominic had searched the entire city like a madman to find me. I could still remember how he held me in his arms, soaking wet and eyes full of worry, swearing he would never let me go again. Now, he had deliberately trapped me here. I stared at the twisted old tree by the parking lot, a bitter laugh rising through my tears. With trembling fingers, I dialed a number. “Please… save me…” ***** Videos of the factory fire were already spreading wildly online. Dominic’s assistant Liam rushed in to report. “Mr. Reid, something’s happened! The factory’s on fire, and Ms. Crowe’s last location shows she was inside!”

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On the second Christmas and Mother’s Day since I began closed research at a national security agency, I requested a video call with my mother, Malia Frazier. “Bryson, when are you coming back?” Malia asked. I noticed that Malia had aged considerably, and what upset me more was the bruise at the corner of her eye. Looking closer, I saw she was wearing old clothes, and her hair was thin and gray. Just as I was feeling concerned, I received a message from the caregiver Thea asking for money. She said Malia needed a new wheelchair, costing $200,000. But Malia had never had problems with her legs, so why would she suddenly need a wheelchair? I called the nursing home, but the director impatiently said it was normal for elderly people to need wheelchairs at Christmas time. Sensing something was wrong, I pulled some strings to access the nursing home’s surveillance footage, and what I saw filled me with rage. I returned to my dorm from the lab and quickly called Malia. “Bryson, when are you coming back? I miss you.” Seeing Malia’s red eyes on my phone screen, I felt instant guilt. Malia had raised my sister and me on her own, and now I couldn’t personally take care of her because I was busy with work. Suddenly, I noticed Malia cautiously glancing outside. The bruise at the corner of her eye was obvious, which alarmed me. I realized something was wrong. The clothes Malia was wearing were ones I’d seen a few Christmases ago. They had a large hole in the waist back then, which was why she had put them away, but now she was wearing them again. Thinking Malia was just being frugal about buying new clothes, I fought back tears and said, “Mom, don’t wear old clothes anymore. I have money now, so you don’t need to save. Be good to yourself. I earn money for you to spend.” She shook her head hesitantly and was about to speak when there was a distinct noise from her end. The next second, the video call was abruptly disconnected. A moment later, Thea called me. “Mr. Frazier, did you just call Mrs. Malia Frazier? Perfect timing. Please transfer some more money. Mrs. Malia Frazier has run out of health supplements, and she’s also asking for a new wheelchair.” I frowned and asked, “What happened to the $300,000 I sent last month?” “Mr. Frazier, my friend happens to be in the medical equipment business. He’s willing to sell us the best wheelchair at the lowest price, just $200,000.” Are wheelchairs that expensive now? And I remembered Malia had always been healthy, so why would she suddenly need a wheelchair? Sensing something was wrong, I immediately called my sister, Nicole Frazier. The background on her end was noisy, like she was in a bar. Nicole impatiently said, “Isn’t it normal for elderly people to have difficulty walking? If Mom wants it, just buy it.” A voice came from her end: “Nicole, what are you doing? Come back and continue…” Before I could hear clearly, the call was suddenly disconnected. I stared at my dark phone screen, deep in thought. Nicole’s attitude now was completely different from when she initially suggested moving Malia to the nursing home. Back then, she said she would take care of our mother carefully, but Malia wasn’t doing well, while Nicole was out partying at bars. Remembering news about elderly people being abused by caregivers in nursing homes, I felt extremely uneasy and immediately asked my supervisor for leave to go home. On the way, I searched online for the medical equipment company Thea mentioned, but found nothing beyond its name. So I contacted a friend in the industry. Soon, I received my friend’s reply. Reading the message, my face immediately darkened. [This is a shell company disguised as a medical equipment seller, but they actually sell insurance. This company used to be a housekeeping service and made the news for scamming consolation money.] I quickly asked: [What’s consolation money?] My friend replied: [It’s when employers hire caregivers for elderly people, and if the elderly person dies accidentally, they must pay the caregivers their full wages. Some caregivers deliberately cause the death of elderly people to scam this money.] I immediately sensed danger. But Thea was introduced by Nicole, who had vouched for the caregiver’s character. I had even paid over $2 million in entrance fees for the nursing home Nicole recommended, with annual fees calculated separately. Nicole had handled everything. Could she have deliberately arranged for a malicious caregiver to look after our mother?

The news of my return home was communicated by the government to the official institutions in my hometown. The mayor immediately planned to send special security personnel to receive me, but I declined. I parked my car near the nursing home and entered alone, without letting the security guards follow me. It was lunchtime, and I remembered Malia’s room number. After notifying the doorman, I entered the residential area of the nursing home. But Malia wasn’t in her room. Only a luxurious coat lay on the bed. I picked it up and examined it carefully—it wasn’t Malia’s size. Suddenly, I heard familiar coughing from the staircase. Malia had a lung condition; my sister and I had fallen asleep to that cough since childhood. I immediately ran to the staircase and found Malia curled up asleep in the narrow hallway. In that moment, my heart shattered. I approached carefully, but before I could call out to her, she jolted awake. Malia looked at me warily, as if I were a stranger. Confused, I asked, “What’s wrong, Mom?” Malia stared at me dully, as if she couldn’t see me clearly. I quickly took her hand and repeated, “Mom! Don’t you recognize me? I’m Bryson.” Only then did she finally recognize me. She reached out to touch my face, tears sliding down her deeply wrinkled cheeks. “Son…” I pressed my face against her palm. “Yes, it’s me. I’m back.” Malia had lost so much weight, and her temples, which hadn’t had much gray hair before, were now completely white. Fighting back tears, I asked, “Mom, why are you sleeping here?” Malia hesitated, about to answer when a strange woman’s surprised voice came from behind us. “Mr. Frazier, you’re back? Why didn’t you inform us in advance?” I noticed Malia shrinking at the sound of this voice, looking frightened. I turned around to see Thea standing there with a coat hanger. I demanded, “What kind of care is this? Did I hire you to leave my mother sleeping on the floor?” Thea was visibly flustered for a moment, explaining awkwardly, “Mr. Frazier, you misunderstand. Mrs. Malia Frazier felt hot and insisted on sleeping on the staircase.” She shouted at Malia, “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Malia Frazier?” Malia nodded quickly, but never dared to look at her. I found this strange. Malia had always been kind, but never this submissive. Thea suddenly approached and grabbed Malia’s hand. “Mrs. Malia Frazier, let me help you inside.” At that moment, Malia gripped my hand tightly. I noticed Malia’s entire body trying to avoid the coat hanger in Thea’s hand. If I hadn’t been supporting her, she would have fallen. I pushed Thea away. “I’ll stay here with my mother. You can go.” Thea withdrew her hand but kept staring at Malia. I could feel Malia’s hand trembling in mine. Thea added, “Mrs. Malia Frazier has been talking nonsense lately. Don’t mind her if you hear anything strange.” My dissatisfaction peaked, and I said impatiently, “Whatever my mother and I discuss is none of your business. Leave!” Thea left awkwardly. Once I was sure she was gone, I carefully held Malia’s hand. “Mom, why were you sleeping on the staircase? And what happened to your face?” But Malia just shook her head fearfully, unwilling to say anything more. I could only change the subject. “Has Nicole visited you recently?” At the mention of my sister, Malia’s face froze for a moment, but she nodded. “Yes, Nicole visits me often.” Yet her expression didn’t soften at all as she said this. Seeing her like this, my heart sank. I suddenly realized that Malia wasn’t being properly cared for. If that was the case, I’d rather take an ordinary job and stay by Malia’s side to care for her myself.

I helped Malia back to her room to rest. On the way, I noticed she was limping badly, walking with great difficulty. It seemed she really needed a wheelchair. But I felt the wheelchair issue wasn’t so simple, so after Malia fell asleep, I decided to find the director to ask about it. The nursing home’s layout was confusing, and after walking for quite some time, I ended up near the kitchen. Nicole had handled our mother’s admission paperwork. She had exaggerated how wonderful this place was, but I hadn’t inspected it myself yet. Since I had the opportunity now, I decided to walk in and take a look. The kitchen wasn’t as clean as I had imagined. Garbage and dirty water were visible everywhere on the floor. The stoves were covered in grime, looking like they hadn’t been cleaned in ages. Mealtime at the nursing home was early, and several cooks had already started preparing food. When they saw me enter, they mistook me for a staff member, and one cook told me to hurry and take the prepared dishes to the dining hall. I was about to explain when I noticed the food intended for the elderly residents was placed right next to an opened bag of rat poison. I couldn’t contain my anger and pointed at the rat poison, demanding: “How can you put food for people next to rat poison?” The cook responded impatiently: “Better than finding rat droppings in their food, right? Besides, they’re about to die anyway, so what does it matter if they die from this?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “How can you be so cruel? Don’t you have parents of your own?” The cook immediately became angry and told me to get out, cursing me for meddling. Several people pushed me out of the kitchen, which made me even more furious. I immediately called Nicole. Suppressing my anger, I asked, “Nicole, have you been visiting Mom?” Nicole yawned, her tone dismissive: “Of course, I just visited Mom yesterday. This nursing home is so nice, I’d like to move in myself. Why do you always worry about so many things? Why don’t you give me more money so I can hire more people to take care of Mom?” Finding this ridiculous, I hung up and decided to take Malia away today. On my way back, I passed by the elderly residents’ lounge downstairs, where the scene once again infuriated me. An elderly man was tied to a wheelchair, crying out in pain, while a caregiver sat with legs crossed, browsing on her phone. When annoyed by the noise, the caregiver skillfully slapped the old man. Then she took a dirty diaper from a nearby trash can and pressed it directly against the old man’s face, forcibly silencing him. I couldn’t help but intervene: “What are you doing!” The caregiver heard my voice, immediately released her grip, and turned to look at me with terror on her face. I yanked her away and untied the ropes binding the old man to the wheelchair. While I was distracted, the caregiver quickly ran away, but I had already memorized her face. After being rescued, the old man continued sobbing. Seeing him made me wonder if my mother had suffered the same treatment. I immediately asked, “Do you know Malia who lives in Room 6100 on the sixth floor? Is this how caregivers normally treat all of you?” The old man struggled to speak: “I don’t know Malia. I only know there’s an elderly woman on the sixth floor whose son supposedly works for the government. Once I saw a caregiver beating her mercilessly with a clothes hanger. She was covered in blood.” I pressed further: “What about her family? Has no one ever visited her?” The old man tried hard to remember: “I think a wealthy-looking woman came yesterday. But it seemed like she was there to demand money from the old woman.” Hearing this, I had to clench my teeth to suppress my rage. I had transferred so much money to Nicole every month, asking her to look after our mother and buy her gifts. Was this how she was treating our mother? Finally, I called Calvin, the police officer waiting outside: “Calvin, come in. I need your help.” Calvin quickly found me using the tracker on my body. I said, “Calvin, please find a technician to retrieve all the surveillance footage from this nursing home over the past two Christmases.” I needed to gather crucial evidence for the police. This nursing home’s behavior was absolutely despicable, and I couldn’t let them off easily. The technician quickly sent over the videos. I located the footage from Room 6100 and witnessed something that filled me with rage. On the night Malia first moved into the nursing home, Thea dragged her to the bathroom and locked her inside just because Malia’s coughing had woken her up. As I continued watching, I discovered that Thea frequently beat and verbally abused Malia. Even when Malia cried and begged her to stop, she continued to assault the defenseless elderly woman. Not once did anyone intervene to stop this abuse. What broke my heart even more was that over the past Christmas season, my sister Nicole had only visited our mother once—yesterday. She even discarded her luxurious coat in disgust just because our mother had touched her sleeve. By the end of the footage, I was filled with rage and guilt. If I hadn’t taken time off to come back, I would never have known even if Malia had been tortured to death, and I would have continued sending them money. Our mother raised us, yet Nicole not only showed no gratitude but actively pushed her into this nightmare. I sent the surveillance footage to the mayor, then returned to the room to help Malia pack her belongings so I could take her home. Just as I reached the doorway, I heard Nicole’s shrill voice: “Why do you need so much pension money when you’re already living in a nursing home? Sign the papers now!” I burst into the room to see Nicole directing two male orderlies to restrain Malia and force her to sign. Malia’s face was streaked with tears, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Without thinking, I kicked the two men away. “Get away from my mom!” I shielded Malia behind me and glared at Nicole. “Is this how you take care of our mother when I’m not around?” Nicole looked terrified. “Bryson, why are you back so suddenly?” I roared, “If I hadn’t come back, what else would you have done to Mom? Steal her pension? You’re heartless!” She tried to defend herself: “I was just going to hold onto it for Mom’s sake.” I cut her off. “I’m taking Mom away from here, and I won’t give you another cent!” Nicole immediately panicked. “Bryson, have you lost your mind? Mom doesn’t have much time left. After she dies, this money will come to us anyway. What’s wrong with me taking some now?” I didn’t want to argue about such a ridiculous issue. I lifted Malia onto my back and prepared to leave. Then, I heard Nicole’s voice behind me: “That’s him! He’s causing trouble here. Don’t let him leave!” I felt disappointed and incredulous. Nicole had brought a group of thugs. She stood behind them, looking at me as if I were her enemy. Malia struggled to get down from my back, desperately trying to protect me. “Don’t hurt my son! Beat me instead if you must!” I held Malia tightly and stared coldly at Nicole. “Nicole, think carefully. If you do this, we’re no longer siblings.” Nicole stared back intensely. “You can leave, but only if Mom gives me the money.” “Absolutely not!” Nicole’s expression darkened. “Grab him. If he dies, I’ll take responsibility!” One man immediately lunged at me, but Calvin, who had been hiding nearby, suddenly appeared and pinned him to the ground. The group was startled by Calvin’s appearance and froze momentarily. Nicole quickly said, “Don’t be afraid. There are only three of them. Attack together!” With so many opponents, Calvin could only focus on protecting me. In my carelessness, I suddenly realized Malia was no longer on my back. I anxiously looked back and saw Nicole dragging Malia toward a window in the hallway. Malia, with tears in her eyes, said to her, “Nicole, I’m your mother…” “Only money is my mother!” Nicole snapped. As she finished speaking, the old security window behind Malia suddenly came loose. In the next second, Nicole, with a twisted expression, pushed Malia forward. Malia immediately fell out the window.

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My husband, Ivan Sutton, mysteriously dies every time on our Christmas wedding anniversary. To save him, I’ve been reborn ninety-nine times. On my ninety-ninth resurrection, I exhausted myself trying to convince Ivan of all this before our anniversary. He embraced me and promised, “Molly, thank you. If I survive, I’ll be good to you!” Later, in a sudden car accident, I was impaled by a steel rod while protecting Ivan. He held me with tearful eyes, shouting, “Save her! Take my life if you have to!” Everyone thought Ivan deeply loved me. But when I woke up after my near-death experience, I suddenly heard Ivan’s thoughts. He looked concerned, but was thinking with contempt, “I’ve faked my death ninety-nine times, and she still manages to survive. She’s so lucky!” I was shocked, thinking I must have misheard. But his next thought devastated me. He thought, “What method of death should I use this time to escape and run away with Lauren? Lauren’s already pregnant, and I can’t let her live in hardship. Molly has already died ninety-nine times to save me, one more time won’t matter!” All along, Ivan had been cheating. Everything he did was to run away with his mistress. If that’s the case, I’ll turn his carefully planned fake death into a real one. Seeing my silence, Ivan pretended to be concerned and held my hand. “Molly, are you feeling unwell? I was terrified then, I thought you…” The next second, he impatiently thought, “This is so annoying. She’s wasting my time, Lauren must be getting anxious.” I pulled my hand away, making the IV needle in my hand sting slightly. “Ivan, I told you I would make sure you survive.” Ivan tenderly kissed my face. “Molly, thank you. I promise I won’t let you suffer anymore.” I pretended to be moved. Ivan sneered in his mind, “Fool! The next time I fake my death, I’ll make you disappear completely. Don’t think you can stop Lauren and me from running away.” I felt breathless. Before I could speak, a ringtone sounded. Ivan hurriedly glanced at the caller and immediately hung up. But a message notification chimed. He looked at it, unconsciously swallowing, desire flashing in his eyes. Putting away his phone, Ivan gave me a troubled look. “Molly, there’s an emergency at the company. I need to handle it.” With that, he left. After Ivan left, I contacted a private investigator to follow him, only to discover he went to a villa. In the video, I saw a beautiful pregnant woman welcoming Ivan inside. I stared intently at the footage. This villa was my coming-of-age gift, which I rarely used because of its remote location. Ivan had offered to rent it out for me, and I agreed without giving it much thought. Now it had become the place where he kept his mistress. I forced myself to calm down and called a real estate agent. “Hello, I want to sell a villa at a greatly reduced price, to be sold today.” Soon after, the agent called me back. “Ms. Marsh, the people inside won’t open the door. I can’t bring clients in.” I smirked coldly, “I don’t know who’s inside. Just threaten them with trespassing charges to make them leave.” Half an hour later, I received a signed sales contract for the house. I clutched the contract thinking, “This is just the beginning.” Three days later, I checked out of the hospital early and tried to contact Ivan, but he wouldn’t answer his phone. As soon as I opened the door, I saw a man and woman sitting intimately on the couch, as I expected. Seeing me, Ivan hurriedly stood up. “Molly? Why didn’t you tell me you were being discharged?” I feigned surprise. “Ivan, who is she?” Ivan’s face turned unnatural, but he tried to appear calm as he came over to support me. “This is my cousin, Lauren Flynn. She’s pregnant, but her boyfriend won’t acknowledge it. She has nowhere to stay, so I thought she could stay with us for a few days.” In reality, he was thinking, “It’s all because of this damn woman who suddenly sold the house, leaving Lauren homeless! Anyway, once she dies for me, all her assets will belong to Lauren and me!” Lauren pleaded pitifully, “Molly, please let me stay here for a few days. I promise I won’t disturb you and Ivan.” I had no patience for their performance, so I smiled and said, “In that case, you can stay.” Ivan looked very touched. “Molly, you’re so considerate.” This time I didn’t hear his thoughts; perhaps he thought my response suited his plans perfectly. That night, I woke up to find Ivan wasn’t in the bedroom. I walked out and saw the bathroom light on, with sounds of lovemaking coming from inside. “This is so exciting. Aren’t you afraid Molly will find out?” “What’s there to fear? She loves me so much she’s willing to die for me. She’ll believe anything I say! Lauren, three days from now, I’ll take the fake death drug early, and you’ll give me the antidote before Molly takes me away.” Lauren moaned and asked, “Are you sure it’s foolproof?” “Don’t worry, that fool falls for it every time.” Hatred surged within me. I sacrificed everything to save Ivan, yet he betrayed and insulted me. I slowly composed myself and knocked on the door. “Ivan, are you in there? Why do I hear a woman’s voice?”

The bathroom fell silent instantly. After a while, Ivan opened the door wrapped in a towel. Seeing me, he looked surprised. “Honey, what are you doing here? It’s just me in the bathroom…” Ivan’s tone was calm, but I noticed his trembling fingertips. I pretended to be casual, “Is that so?” I moved to push the door open. In the next second, Ivan grabbed my wrist. “Molly, you just got out of the hospital. You should rest early.” I didn’t expose his trick. “Okay.” My interruption killed Ivan’s mood to continue having sex with Lauren. Back in our bedroom, as soon as Ivan lay down, he started caressing me. I felt disgusted and avoided his touch. “I just got out of the hospital. I don’t want to do it.” Ivan’s enthusiasm dampened. He felt dissatisfied but still pretended to be considerate, “Then rest well and go to sleep.” But his inner voice said, “If I hadn’t been interrupted earlier, I wouldn’t even want to touch you. You’re nothing compared to Lauren. Not pretty enough, not a good body either. No man would be interested in you except me!” With my eyes closed, tears slid down from the corners of my eyes. We had loved each other for many Christmases and been married for ten. The man who once deeply loved me no longer existed. Ivan thought I was asleep and quietly got out of bed, thinking, “I can’t hold back anymore. I’ll find Lauren to help me take care of this.” Hearing the door gently close, I laughed at myself mockingly. The first time Ivan was close to death, I had been kidnapped. He begged the kidnappers not to hurt me, offering himself in exchange for my life. At that time, Ivan’s eyes were red with tears as he told me to live on bravely. I was nearly broken when I learned from the police that Ivan had indeed been killed. I lived like a walking corpse, wishing I had been the one to die, until on the seventh day after Ivan’s death, I suddenly found myself reborn three days before our wedding anniversary. I thought fate had given me a chance to save my beloved, so I risked everything to save Ivan, but I could never succeed. So I kept traveling through these fragments of time, repeating everything over and over. What I never expected was that in the end, it was all a scam. Looking back now, perhaps fate thought I was too stupid and gave me a chance to discover the truth. Early the next morning, I woke up to continuous notifications of purchases at makeup and clothing stores from the supplementary credit card I had given Ivan. I let out a cold laugh. Ivan was certainly generous, using my card to spend on Lauren. Taking a deep breath, I called to freeze that card. Using my money to keep a mistress? Impossible. An hour later, Ivan returned home with a red-eyed Lauren. Seeing me eating breakfast, he angrily demanded, “Why did you freeze the card you gave me? Lauren was in the middle of shopping, and she couldn’t pay! The store clerks laughed at her!” I met Ivan’s angry eyes and heard his thoughts. “I was planning to withdraw the money to use after I left her, and this bitch froze it! Could she have discovered something?” I smiled and said helplessly, “By the way, all my cards have been frozen and won’t be usable for a few days.” Lauren suddenly blurted out, “Didn’t you sell the house yesterday? How come your cards are frozen today?” I frowned and looked at her coldly. “How do you know I sold the house yesterday?”

Lauren froze. Ivan quickly explained, “Yesterday when I planned to have Lauren stay at your villa, I found out you’d already sold the house.” I forced a smile. “I see.” I noticed Lauren caressing her swollen belly and pretended to be envious. “I’m so jealous. Ivan and I have been married for ten years without getting pregnant.” Lauren smiled, looking at me smugly. “I got pregnant less than a year after getting together with my boyfriend. Don’t worry, Molly. Ivan loves you so much, I’m sure you’ll get pregnant too.” Ivan’s contemptuous thoughts immediately followed. “Molly will never have my child! I put drugs in her milk every day specifically to prevent her from getting pregnant!” I was stunned, my gaze falling on the half-empty glass of milk on the table. For ten years, I hadn’t gotten pregnant, and whenever I wanted to go to the hospital for a check-up, Ivan would stop me with loving concern. He said there was no rush to have a baby, that having me was enough. Only now did I understand that Ivan had been scheming against me all along. I suppressed my emotions and said, “I need to go out for a while.” Ivan pretended to be reluctant, but inwardly he was already celebrating my departure. After giving him one long look, I left and headed straight to the hospital. After completing the examination, I anxiously asked the doctor, “I’ve been married for ten years but haven’t been able to get pregnant.” The doctor carefully examined my test results and frowned. “You’ve been taking contraceptives all this time. How could you possibly get pregnant? Moreover, due to the long-term medication, even if you stop now, it will be very difficult for you to conceive in the future.” My suspicions confirmed, my heart ached as tears welled up in my eyes. Even though Ivan had a mistress, I never doubted that he had once loved me. After all, throughout these years, his tenderness and the love in his eyes had never changed. Yet beneath that facade, he had been drugging me for years. Leaving the consultation room, I was about to exit the building when I glimpsed a familiar figure. Looking closer, it was Ivan. Hatred surged within me as I quietly followed him. After carefully surveying his surroundings, Ivan quickly entered a small room. I crept closer, hiding behind the partially open door, and saw Ivan talking with a man wearing a baseball cap. Ivan spoke in a hushed, urgent tone. “Did you bring the stuff?” The man in the cap pulled out a small black vial from his pocket and handed it to him. “Mr. Sutton, both the antidote and the death-simulating drug are inside. After taking it, your pulse and breathing will stop, but you’ll still be able to hear everything around you.” Ivan took the vial. “This is the down payment. You’ll get the rest when it’s done.” The man took the bank card and left. Ivan examined the vial carefully, thinking smugly, “Tomorrow I’ll take the fake death drug and pretend to die of heart failure. After Molly commits suicide to save me, I can run away with Lauren!” I stared intently at the fake death drug in Ivan’s hand, a wave of grief washing over me. So this was how I had been deceived every time. I clenched my fists and turned to leave, but accidentally stepped on a can, making a crisp noise. Ivan quickly pocketed the vial and shouted in my direction, “Who’s there?” I was startled and quickly left before Ivan could discover me. By the time I had composed myself and returned home, Ivan was already back, sitting on the couch as if nothing had happened. “Molly, what took you so long?” I forced myself to tear up and hugged him. “Ivan, tomorrow is our wedding anniversary. Let’s just stay home and celebrate. You’ll be safe that way.” Ivan appeared deeply touched. “Whatever you want.” But in his mind, he was thinking: “You fool, tomorrow is when I’ll finally be rid of you!” A cold glint flashed in my eyes. If Ivan wanted to fake his death to escape, I’d make his fake death a real one. The next day, I was awakened by Lauren’s scream. When I rushed downstairs, I found Ivan lying motionless on the floor. Lauren pretended to be frightened, crying, “What’s wrong with Ivan? I’ve been calling him for ages but he won’t wake up.” I cried out in shock, checked Ivan’s breathing, then collapsed onto him in disbelief, sobbing. “Ivan, you were right beside me all this time. Why did you still die? How am I supposed to live without you? Why couldn’t I protect you?” I frantically called an ambulance. Soon, Ivan was rushed to the hospital. After the surgery light went off, the doctor came out with a regretful expression. “The patient has been confirmed dead. Cause of death was sudden cardiac arrest.” He handed me the death certificate. I accepted it with grief, asking repeatedly, “Is my husband really dead?” This doctor was the one who had conspired with them to fake Ivan’s death. He avoided my gaze, offering false consolation: “Mr. Sutton has passed away. Please accept my condolences.” I immediately collapsed to the floor in apparent devastation, my face pale, looking exactly like someone unable to accept such a shock. At that moment, Ivan’s body was wheeled out. Lauren wiped away fake tears and approached me. “Molly, let’s take Ivan to the funeral home.” I just shook my head tearfully. “Let’s send him directly to the crematorium. Since Ivan is confirmed dead, I can reset time and save him.” I immediately called the crematorium. Others might think I was talking nonsense from excessive grief, but Lauren clearly knew about my ability to reset time. She panicked and tried to dissuade me. “Molly, your parents haven’t even arrived yet. Surely you should let them see Ivan one last time.” I refused with a pained expression. “Seeing Ivan’s body would only devastate them. Besides, I don’t have time to wait. I need Ivan cremated so I can reset time! Don’t you want him to live again?” Lauren froze. I had the staff load Ivan into the vehicle. At the crematorium, I immediately signed up for a membership and requested priority cremation for Ivan. The staff eagerly agreed and hurried to have Ivan’s body unloaded. Lauren finally broke down, begging me: “Ivan is just pretending to be dead! He’s still alive! I’m pregnant with his child. We planned to fake his death so we could run away together!” I looked at her pitifully. “You must be overcome with grief. Aren’t you Ivan’s cousin?” Lauren looked desperate. Seeing I didn’t believe her, she frantically tried to stop the staff and pulled out an antidote from her pocket, shouting, “This is the antidote! I can bring Ivan back to life!” Other families waiting grew impatient and urged, “What are you doing? We’re waiting! If you’re not going to cremate him, then leave!” I firmly restrained Lauren, preventing her from approaching the cremation chamber. Only after Ivan was placed in the cremation chamber did I explain to the waiting people, “She’s my husband’s cousin. She can’t accept his death.” Everyone around us suddenly understood and moved to hold Lauren back, consoling her: “We know you’re heartbroken, but now that your cousin is gone, he needs to be cremated and laid to rest.” “No, he’s still alive! You can’t burn him!” Lauren struggled desperately, lost her balance, and accidentally hit the ignition button. Flames instantly erupted, engulfing Ivan. Lauren’s eyes widened as she screamed, “No!”

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On my son Oscar Whitman’s first birthday, my husband Yves Whitman’s company was exposed for tax issues, and he faced three years in prison. His parents were seriously ill, and Oscar was still very young. To keep our family together, I tearfully took the blame for him and served three years in prison in his place. When I was released and returned home, I discovered Yves hosting a party for his son, celebrating his one-month birthday. But Oscar was already four years old, not one month old. Then, Yves walked out wearing a suit. Beside him was his childhood friend Tiffany Mitchell, dressed in a designer gown. They were holding their son Brian Whitman, smiling happily as they put a sapphire pendant around his neck. “Mr. Whitman is truly remarkable! Three years ago, he lost all his assets after being framed. For the sake of his wife, he built his fortune from scratch and became a billionaire.” “They say on the day Brian Whitman was born, Mr. Whitman prayed outside the delivery room for two days and two nights, hoping his wife and son would be safe!” Listening to the admiring comments around me, I felt devastated. I thought, “Everyone praises how loving Yves and Tiffany are, but what about all the pain I endured in prison for him these three years? And why is my four-year-old son nowhere to be seen?” ***** I angrily rushed forward and snatched the sapphire pendant from Yves’ hand. “This is the sapphire pendant I had specially made for my son, isn’t it? Why are you giving it to someone else?” This sapphire pendant was crafted with the finest sapphire for Oscar, with a small tiger charm on it. There was only one like it in all of New York! Seeing me suddenly appear, Yves blurted out in panic, “Leah? How did you get back?” My expression immediately turned cold. Before I could speak, a middle-aged woman wearing luxurious jewelry from the crowd, Tiffany’s mother Hannah Mitchell, shouted at me, “Who are you, beggar? How dare you crash the Whitman family party and steal my grandson’s sapphire pendant! “Yves, call security and throw her out!” The guests also began to condemn me with contempt. “Who is she? Today is Brian Whitman’s birthday party. How dare she cause trouble at the Whitman mansion.” “She’s probably a gold-digger trying to seduce Mr. Whitman.” “Her clothes are so shabby. How did she even have the nerve to come in?” I clenched my fists, glancing at my faded clothes. Since no one came to pick me up after my release, I was still wearing the outdated clothes from three years ago. I had rushed over without telling anyone because I missed Yves and Oscar, but I never expected to witness this scene. Hearing the guests’ comments about me, I let out a cold laugh. “Would Yves dare?” Yves met my gaze, then quickly looked away. I knew he was afraid I would reveal that I had gone to prison for him three years ago. He grabbed me and whispered, “Leah, don’t make a scene! Whatever you need to discuss can wait until after the party.” I stared at him coldly, saying nothing. Nearby, Tiffany looked at me with jealousy, then said pitifully, “Miss Wilson, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t be here. I’ll leave.” As she spoke, she gently shook her hand, revealing the diamond bracelet on her wrist. My expression immediately darkened. This bracelet was an heirloom from my mother. Even during the most difficult times three years ago, I never sold it. Before going to prison, I asked Yves’ mother, Melissa Whitman, to keep it safe for me. I wondered how it ended up on Tiffany’s wrist. Angrily, I stepped forward and grabbed Tiffany’s wrist. “This bracelet was a gift from my mother. Who gave you permission to take it?” She cried out in pain. Yves rushed forward and pushed me away, embracing her protectively. “Today is Brian’s birthday party. Tiffany was so busy she forgot to buy jewelry, so I gave her this bracelet to wear so she wouldn’t look underdressed. “Do you really need to be so petty?” Tiffany’s eyes welled with tears as she tried to remove the bracelet from her wrist. “This belongs to Miss Wilson. I should return it to her.” Yves stopped her, his face angry. “This is my house, and I am the head of this family! “I said I gave it to you. So it’s yours!” Tiffany leaned against Yves gratefully. The surrounding guests praised him for loving his wife while criticizing me as a beggar trying to ruin their relationship. I sneered. Just as I was about to speak, two uniformed police officers walked in from the door. Everyone looked at each other in confusion. Then the two officers walked straight up to me. They handed me a piece of paper and said seriously, “Leah, you forgot to take your release certificate. We brought it to you.”

I took the certificate and thanked the two police officers. As soon as they left, everyone around me burst into mocking laughter. “So she’s been to prison!” “She actually dares to come to the Whitman Villa! She might be a thief who targets events like this.” “Where are the security guards? Why haven’t they thrown her out yet?” Hannah looked at me with disgust and snapped, “What kind of criminal are you? How dare you show up at my grandson’s birthday party and cause trouble! Apologize to my precious daughter and grandson right now. Otherwise, I’ll send you back to prison!” I stared at her in her luxurious outfit, arrogant and domineering. I remembered when Christmas first came to New York, she was timid and insecure. Now that version of her was completely gone. I turned to Yves and demanded, “Yves, isn’t our son already four years old? Whose birthday party are you hosting today? When did you have another son?” He frowned and replied as if it were perfectly normal, “During the three Christmases you were in prison, I rebuilt my life from scratch. I needed a wife to support me.” My anger intensified. Just as I was about to confront Yves, a security guard rushed forward and covered my mouth. Yves glanced at me, then turned to the guests with a smile. “I apologize, everyone. That was just an unfortunate incident. Let’s continue with the party!” After saying this, he tried to snatch the sapphire pendant from my hand, but I clutched it tightly, refusing to let go. Tiffany pleaded desperately, “Ms. Wilson, please give me the sapphire pendant. I was too careless and forgot to prepare jewelry. Today is Brian’s birthday party. He must wear this pendant.” I bit the security guard’s hand hard. He yelped in pain and released me. I stepped forward and slapped Tiffany across the face. “You shameless bitch. You stole my bracelet and now you want to steal my son’s sapphire pendant too!” Hannah rushed to support Tiffany and yelled at me, “You’re just a criminal who’s been to prison. How dare you hit my daughter! She’s Yves’s wife!” “Tiffany is Yves’s wife?” I couldn’t help but sneer as I looked at Yves. “If I remember correctly, we’re still married, aren’t we?” He awkwardly avoided my gaze and said helplessly, “Leah, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but this is how things are now. Can’t you just bear with it? I’ll explain everything to you after the birthday party.” Hearing Yves’s words, I felt a chill run down my spine. Back then, my family and his were of equal status. Shortly after our marriage, my parents died unexpectedly. Yves handled everything for me and promised that he would be my family from then on, always protecting me. But the good times didn’t last. On Oscar’s first birthday, Yves was suddenly arrested because his company had tax issues. I worked tirelessly to help him, even exhausting my family fortune, but he was still facing prison time. His elderly parents were ill, and Oscar was still just a baby. Yves had always been good to me. Once he went to prison, he would never be able to rebuild his career. After thinking all night, I made up my mind to take the blame for him. Tiffany returned during that time. She cried, saying her family had gone bankrupt and that she saw Yves as a brother and would always respect me. I softened and arranged for her to stay. Before going to prison, I asked Tiffany to take care of my family. I never imagined she would steal my husband.

My conversation with Yves was misunderstood by onlookers. Someone stared at me and asked, “Is she Mr. Whitman’s mistress?” “No! Isn’t she Mr. Whitman’s ex-wife?” “I heard Mr. Whitman say that when he had his accident at Christmas, she abandoned them and ran off with all their assets.” “She probably couldn’t make it on her own out there. Now that Mr. Whitman is successful, she’s back to cash in.” I looked at Yves in shock, trembling with anger. I had suffered for him, yet he told everyone I had abandoned them and taken all their assets. How ridiculous! I had staked my future on this selfish, unreliable man! Then, those people turned to Tiffany with flattering tones, “Ms. Mitchell, you’ve been by Mr. Whitman’s side all along, helping him through the hard times.” She smiled smugly, feigning modesty with a wave of her hand. “Please, don’t mention it. We’re friends after all. “After the party ends, I’ll give her some money to help her get by.” Then she leaned close to my ear and whispered mockingly, “You used to look down on me. Now your man is mine, and the Whitman family will belong to my son in the future.” I looked up in disbelief and demanded, “When did I ever look down on you?” Tiffany glared at me hatefully and growled, “You always acted like you were giving me charity. Did you really think I wanted your handouts? Everything you had, I’m going to take it all!” I pushed her away, feeling a bitter amusement. I had pitied Tiffany for her poor background. Because of that, whenever I bought something for myself, I would get one for her too. I never imagined my kindness would be misinterpreted as charity. Just as I was about to speak, the ballroom doors suddenly opened. My uncle, Yohan Wilson, walked in with steady steps. Dressed in an impeccable custom suit, he carried himself with the authority of someone in power. We hadn’t seen each other for three Christmases, but he looked the same as before. A glimmer of hope rose within me, but Tiffany affectionately went forward to take Yohan’s arm, saying he was her godfather. “Yohan, you’re here!” I stood frozen, not understanding when Tiffany had made Yohan her godfather. Yves quickly went to greet him. “Yohan, you’ve arrived just in time. Leah misunderstood my relationship with Tiffany. She caused a scene at the party and even hit Tiffany.” My face darkened. Yohan glanced at me and snapped impatiently, “Leah, you’re making a scene in front of everyone over such a trivial matter. You’re bringing shame to our family! “The Whitman family has close business ties with our family. If you ruin this partnership, can you take responsibility?” Tiffany cried even harder, sobbing, “Yohan, Ms. Wilson just insulted Yves and hit me.” Yohan’s expression grew even darker, his gaze cutting into me like a knife. “The Whitman family is now a powerful family, and many of our family’s business ventures depend on cooperation with them! “Apologize immediately!” I felt bitter. “Yohan, why won’t you listen to my explanation?” Yohan snorted coldly, his face full of contempt. “Explanation? At Christmas, you ran off with the money out of vanity. If it weren’t for Yves’s generosity, would we even be standing here like this?” I controlled my anger and said, word by word, “I did nothing wrong. As for the truth, are you just going to believe Yves’ one-sided story?” Yohan was furious. Tiffany stepped forward innocently, sobbing, “Leah, Yves and I are truly in love. Please stop making things difficult for us.” I just laughed coldly and said, “Is that so? But Yves and I aren’t even divorced. How is it that you already have a child together?” Despite his guilt, Yves remained defiant, “You’re my wife. However, during my three most difficult Christmases, you weren’t by my side. All that time, Tiffany was taking care of me. I only made a mistake that any man would make.” My gaze turned icy. “Do you remember the agreement you signed in front of my parents?” Yves suddenly panicked. “What agreement?” I stared at him, answering slowly, “That if you ever cheated, you would voluntarily transfer all your assets to me. Yves, you solemnly swore in front of my parents that you would never betray me!” Yves seemed to remember now, his face darkening. “Your parents are dead. That agreement means nothing.” Hannah also complained angrily, “The Whitman family fortune will belong to Brian in the future, not a penny will go to a bitch like you! Your son has been sent away. Yves promised the Whitman family would go to Brian. Don’t you dare covet it!” My heart suddenly ached. I demanded, “What did you say?!” Tiffany stood up straight, pretending to be wronged, “Leah, ever since Oscar found out I was pregnant, he kept deliberately bumping into me, trying to harm my baby. When he wouldn’t stop despite warnings, Yves disciplined him and sent him to a juvenile detention center.” Oscar is my son. I had thought he was in his room, but I never imagined he’d been sent away. I was instantly furious, grabbing Yves’ clothes tightly. “Where is my son?” Yves frowned at me and forcefully pushed me away. “Oscar has a vicious mind despite his young age. He kept hurting Tiffany, so I sent him to a juvenile detention center. If he doesn’t learn to behave, does he want to end up in prison like you? Tiffany and I are doing this for his own good!” I was in disbelief, nearly losing my balance. My beloved Oscar had been bullied by this family! I gritted my teeth, finally unable to contain my anger. “Yves, I went to prison for you. Yet you torture your own son because of Tiffany. How dare you! You faithless coward, do you believe I’ll take everything you’ve done to court!” Yves hadn’t expected me to say such things in the main hall. His face turned completely dark. “Leah, your parents are both dead, and you’ve enjoyed the Whitman family’s wealth for so long. Even if you went to prison for me, it was your duty! You raised Oscar to be so ill-mannered. Tiffany kindly helped discipline him, yet you show no gratitude. Besides, he’s my son. It’s perfectly reasonable for me to discipline him!” Tiffany also spoke in a delicate voice, though her eyes were venomous, “Leah, you were the one who asked me to take good care of your family! How can you blame us now!” Their words made my chest hurt with rage. I wanted to kill them. Just then, a familiar childish voice came from behind me. “Mom, you’re finally back. I’ve missed you so much!”

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I told Quentin Palmer I was pregnant as soon as I found out—first month. I was over the moon.He wasn’t.Instead, he just frowned, all moody and weird. When I asked when we were getting married, he panicked and changed the subject.So yeah, I went to the hospital alone today for a checkup.And ran smack into Rainee Layton—his so-called childhood friend.That’s when I found out the real story: they were already married. And she was pregnant too.”You little rascal,” she cooed to her bump. “Be good and grow strong so Mommy doesn’t suffer. Or Daddy’s gonna punish you when you’re out!”Quentin stepped out of the exam room holding prenatal meds—for pregnant women.His face? All soft and glowing like some proud dad.He rubbed Rainee’s belly, smiling. “The baby doesn’t even get what you’re saying, and you’re already threatening it?”Then the machine called my name.I stood up from a corner. He turned. Our eyes met.He froze—totally caught off guard.Bet he never thought he’d run into me here, same day, same place.I’d asked him just yesterday to come with me. He said he was busy.And I bought it. No questions.Booked the appointment myself. Came alone.Turns out, “busy” meant playing perfect husband to Rainee, like I didn’t even exist.I walked over slow, staring at Rainee’s slightly rounded belly. My face? Blank. Dead calm.”How far along are you?”Quentin clamped his mouth shut, wouldn’t even look at me.Rainee, though? She smiled like she’d won. “Almost two months. It’s mine and Quentin’s baby.”I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.Same as mine. Two months.It felt like something cracked wide open inside me. Tears started falling, and I couldn’t stop them.I looked up at him, voice barely hanging on. “Aren’t you gonna explain?”Quentin’s face twisted. He rushed over, pulling me in. “I’m sorry. I lied. Yeah, I came with her—but the baby’s not mine. I just didn’t want anything to happen to her alone.”Behind him, Rainee smirked, then turned on the waterworks. “But Quentin, you promised you’d be this baby’s dad. We’re married. Once the baby’s here, you have to give it your surname.”

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it hit like a bomb in my chest.I snapped my head up and shoved him off me.Stared him down, hoping—begging—for something. Anything.But he just looked away, eyes on the floor. Guilty as hell.I pointed at Rainee, my voice shaking. “So it’s true? You married her? Then what about me? What about our baby? You’re ditching your own kid to play dad to one that doesn’t even know who their real father is?”Before I could even finish, Rainee started sobbing. “My baby’s not a bastard! He has a dad!”Quentin freaked out.Then—he slapped me.The crack echoed. My cheek lit up like fire.He looked at me like I was nothing. Pulled his hand back like it didn’t just hit me. His eyes were cold, disgusted. “Vivienne Watson, have you completely lost it? Do you even realize how much damage your words could do to Rainee?”I didn’t know how much it could hurt her. All I knew was Quentin wasn’t the guy I used to love.I wiped the blood off my lip, the metallic taste thick in my mouth.Every time it came to Rainee, he lost it.My voice cracked. “What do you want me to say? My fiancé ditched me and our baby. He’s playing house with someone else and raising her kid. You want me to throw confetti or something?”I couldn’t hold back anymore. My voice rose, raw and sharp.Quentin paused—just for a second. Guilt flickered in his eyes.Then he said, calm like this was some logical deal, “Rainee’s not like you. I’m all she’s got. She can’t handle the gossip. Just wait, Vivienne. After she has the baby, I’ll marry you.”He pulled me in like that was a promise. “Trust me. A year from now, I’ll give you the wedding you deserve.”I didn’t say a word.Then Rainee cut in, annoyed. “Quentin, the baby’s hungry. Let’s go home.”His body stiffened. But he didn’t hesitate.He let me go, patted my head, and walked off with her—leaving me standing there.Watching them disappear, it hit me. Love and indifference? They’re not that hard to tell apart.***After the checkup, I went home.Alone.The place felt like a freezer.I showered, crawled into bed, completely out of it.Then the door clicked. Quentin’s voice drifted in, tired. “Your hair’s wet. You’ll catch a cold.”I didn’t budge.He sighed, picked me up, and sat me in front of the vanity.The hair dryer whirred to life. He ran his fingers through my hair, drying it.Still, I said nothing.”What’s wrong? Still mad about today?” he asked. “Didn’t I say I’d marry you after this is all sorted?”He knew exactly where to dig.He leaned in, warm breath brushing my ear. Goosebumps.I bit back. “What if I say no?”His face shifted, all shadow. “I’m not asking—I’m telling you how it is.”Then came the switch—softer, like that made it better. “Rainee’s got no one. I’m all she has. I can’t just ditch her.”He grabbed a suitcase and started throwing stuff in.Didn’t take long before it was packed and ready.At the door, he turned. “Her morning sickness is bad. I’ll stay a few days. Call if you need something.”The suitcase clicked over the threshold.That’s when I felt the tears.So this was it.He knew I had no one. Knew I was sick, sleepless, wrecked.He just didn’t care.Next to Rainee, I was nothing.

After that day, Quentin gradually left my life.He was all-in with Rainee, only texting late at night with a half-hearted [how are you?].I ignored him, so the messages stopped.Then I hit three months.Ran into Quentin’s sister, Cecilia Palmer, at the hospital.Cecilia looked stunned, then snatched my report like it burned her.”You’re cheating on Quentin? Pregnant with some random guy’s baby?”I blinked. “This baby’s Quentin’s. I didn’t cheat.”She just laughed, sharp and cold. “Still lying? You look all sweet, but you’re trash underneath. Got knocked up and now you’re trying to scam your way into our family?”Yeah, I knew she didn’t like me.But I didn’t think she’d come at me like that.No filter. Just pure hate.A crowd started forming.Whispers. Pointing.I bit my lip till it bled, chest tight like I couldn’t breathe.Tried to leave. Over and over.But Cecilia blocked me every time.I finally snapped. “What do you want? I told you, this baby’s Quentin’s. Call him if you don’t believe me.”She scoffed. “Cut the act. Rainee’s the one having Quentin’s baby. He’s with her right now. “You think if this kid was his, he’d leave you here alone? You cheated and got pregnant. Now get ready—our family doesn’t let trash like you walk away clean.”She waved her hand.Bodyguards showed up like it was all planned.Heart pounding, I grabbed my phone.Didn’t even get to dial—Smack.Her slap lit my cheek on fire, my phone hit the floor.She yanked my hair, eyes icy. “Still think Quentin’s coming for you? Keep dreaming.”Next thing I knew, I was shoved into her car.Headed straight for the Palmer estate.***Quentin and Rainee were chilling in the living room—he was feeding her cream soup like some doting husband. She looked smug, glowing.I looked wrecked. Hair everywhere, blood at my lip, clothes wrinkled and stained.Cecilia marched in, full-on triumphant. “Quentin, she cheated on you. Knocked up with someone else’s kid. I caught her red-handed.”I lifted my head, lips pale, cheek still burning.I thought he’d say something. Anything.But he didn’t even glance my way.His voice was cold. “Lock her in the attic. No one opens that door unless I say so.” That was it. My heart just… snapped.I stared at him one last time.No begging. No hope left.Then I was in the attic, locked up like I was nothing.Night fell. Rats scratched in the corners.One of them waddled right up to me.Then—creak.The attic door started to open.The rat bolted.Rainee’s smug face popped into the doorway.No one else around, so she dropped the sweet act and went full venom.”Look at you now. I told you Quentin was mine. But you? You actually thought you could steal him? Marry him? Please. You were just his side project.”That grin lit a fire in me.I grabbed something off the floor—launched it at her.She screamed and hit the ground.Then I saw it. A rat.Footsteps thundered upstairs. Quentin and Cecilia stormed in.Rainee was on the floor, clutching her stomach, sobbing like she was dying.”Quentin! My belly—what if something happened to the baby? I was just being nice, offering Vivienne food, and she threw a rat at me!”She turned up the waterworks, sobbing louder, milking it.And just like that, they all believed her.Cecilia looked like she was about to lunge, but Quentin held her back.His eyes—pure ice.”I can’t believe you, Vivienne,” he said. “I let you stay here so it’d be easier to take care of you, but clearly, you can’t be under the same roof as Rainee.”I shut my eyes, drained. The hopelessness was crushing.”Live together? Please. Everyone thinks Rainee’s carrying your kid and I’m just the girl who ‘CHEATED’ and got knocked up. Why would I belong here?”His jaw tightened. Annoyed but trying to keep it together.”Just… focus on your pregnancy, okay? Keep the baby safe. Stop picking fights with Rainee.”I didn’t say a word. Just let out a cold, bitter laugh.He snapped. Slammed the door.”You’re staying in the attic. Maybe some time alone will help you think. I’ll have food brought up.”***I was stuck in that gross, airless attic for days—rats included.Rainee stopped picking fights, probably because Quentin warned her.But a month in, she walked by, and she made sure to say loud enough for me to hear, “Quentin’s taking me to my check-up tomorrow!”That night, I played it cool. When Quentin dropped off my food, I said, “It’s been a month. The baby needs tests.”He smiled, like I was finally the version of me he wanted.”If you’d been like this earlier, things wouldn’t have been so hard. Don’t worry—I’ll take you tomorrow.”He didn’t.He went with Rainee.I got stuck with Cecilia, who barely looked up from her phone the whole ride.At the hospital, she didn’t even catch when I asked about ending the pregnancy.The doctor helped me go through with it.Quentin showed up late. Rainee was already done.”Where’s Vivienne? She’s still not out?”He pushed open the door—froze.Blood-soaked sheets. Tissue on the floor.His face went gray. Lips shaking.”V-Vivienne, what did you do?”

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On the day Ethan Moore and I are supposed to marry, his adoptive sister, Hazel Moore, threatens to jump off a building. Ethan abandons me in my wedding dress and leaves me jilted for her. As the guests watch me mockingly, I boldly announce, “I’ll marry anyone who dares walk down this aisle to me!” Three years later, Ethan returns to the Moore residence with Hazel. I’m seated on the couch and enjoying some oatmeal while watching TV. Ethan stares at my baby bump and snarls, “Who’s the father of that child in your belly?” I sip my oatmeal and smile faintly. “A member of the Moore family, of course.” *** Ethan Moore stormed over, his face twisted with rage as he yanked me off the couch. “Shameless! I left with Hazel on our wedding day. I haven’t stepped foot in this place for three years. How could that child in your belly be mine?” I almost laughed. I never said it was his. He wasn’t the only man in the Moore family. “Of course, it’s not your child. You’re not even worthy of being his father,” I said. Hazel Moore’s face twisted in shock. “Audrey Smith, even if Ethan ran away from the wedding, he still left you with the title of Mrs. Moore. You’ve been living a life of luxury in the Moore family. How could you shamelessly get pregnant with someone else’s child?” I glanced at her. “You’re the adopted daughter of the Moore family, and you had the nerve to seduce your own brother. If we’re talking about being shameless, who could possibly beat the two of you?” Hazel’s voice turned pitiful as she looked at Ethan. “Ethan, for the past three years, we’ve kept things respectful. Yet, she’s carrying someone else’s child and cheated on you.” The moment he heard her words, Ethan’s fury exploded. He raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. “You filthy woman! You get knocked up by someone else and still dare to drag me and Hazel into it? Get out now!” he shouted. The sharp pain bloomed across my cheek. My head went blank for a second from the force of the slap. Ethan ran off with Hazel three years ago, leaving me alone to face all the whispers and laughter at our wedding. Driven by rage, I called for a groom on the spot. It was his uncle, Jeremiah Moore, who stepped up and married me that same day. In Beverton City, Jeremiah was known as the Frost King. Everyone has treated me with the utmost respect ever since I married him. After I got pregnant, he spoiled me even more. He wouldn’t let a strand of my hair be harmed. Blood would have been spilled if he had known what Ethan had just done. To avoid a full-blown family tragedy and for the sake of the child in my belly, I said coldly, “If you both leave now, I’ll pretend this never happened.” However, they didn’t appreciate the offer. Hazel lunged forward and yanked my hair. “Ethan, this woman is scared. She wants us to leave now so she can use that child to take everything from the Moores!” Ethan snapped, “So that’s what this is about! Well, I’m not letting it happen!” I twisted away from Hazel’s grip and said coldly, “David disowned you the day you two ran off. You had nothing to do with this family from that moment on.” Hazel let out a scoff. “That was just Grandpa venting. Ethan’s the only grandson of the Moore family. Do you really think he’s going to stay disowned forever?” Ethan’s expression turned smug. “Grandpa already said everything belongs to me.” I placed a hand over my belly, my voice icy. “Not anymore. This child is also a member of the Moore family.” I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear. However, Ethan’s eyes flared with rage as he stared at me. “So you’re planning to pass that illegitimate child off as a Moore? I’ll teach you a lesson now!” His slap landed even harder this time. I clutched my belly as I collapsed to the floor. Upon seeing the twisted hatred on their faces, panic surged inside me. I couldn’t let them hurt the baby. I said desperately, “He is not an illegitimate child. He is…”

Before I could say another word, Ethan bent down and grabbed the shattered porcelain bowl of oatmeal off the floor. He shoved the shards and oatmeal straight into my mouth. “Hazel and I have struggled to survive for the past three years. Yet, you’ve been leeching off the Moore family, living in comfort with that child in your belly! Well, let me make sure you get your fill today!” he barked. I instantly choked, unable to speak. The sharp pieces of porcelain cut into the inside of my mouth, and blood gushed across my tongue. I raised a hand to resist, but Hazel stomped her stiletto heel down hard on my hand. Pain shot up my arm, and my hand trembled uncontrollably. I couldn’t even cry out. Ethan spat in my face after stuffing every bit of that oatmeal into my mouth. He then clapped his hands and stood up. Hazel’s stiletto heel shifted toward my swollen belly. Terror gripped me. I grabbed her ankle with all the strength I had, trying desperately to stop her from stepping down. Jeremiah has been infertile since birth. We finally conceived this child after we visited the best doctors across the country and abroad for three years. Hazel looked down at me with a sneer. “Audrey, you look just like a dog protecting her pup. Pathetic.” Ethan frowned at my belly. “If word gets out that I’ve been cheated on like this, how am I supposed to show my face in Beverton City? Step on it, Hazel. Crush that illegitimate child before it’s born!” I shook my head like mad. Blood and vomit spilled from my mouth as I choked out the words. “This baby… This baby is Jeremiah’s…” Ethan froze before bursting into a maniacal laugh. “Are you kidding me, Audrey? Everyone in Beverton knows my uncle has never touched a woman. He can’t even have kids! Right now, I’m the only one left in the Moore family to carry on the bloodline. That’s why Grandpa desperately wanted me to marry you and have kids.” Hazel chimed in, “Ethan is the only heir. Grandpa even cut off all his cards to force him back home and inherit the estate. Audrey, you’re beyond shameless. How dare you drag Uncle Jeremiah into it after we’ve exposed you?” Ethan had eloped with Hazel for three years and hadn’t contacted the family once. His grandpa, David Moore, had given up on him completely. He had frozen all Ethan’s accounts because he wanted to disown him. But now, clearly, neither of them was in the right state of mind. To avoid provoking them, I didn’t argue back. I repeated, “I’m not lying. This baby really is Jeremiah’s. I’ll call him right now if you don’t believe me.” I covered my belly with one hand and reached for the phone on the table with the other. My baby and I would be safe if I could reach Jeremiah. He would come immediately to save me. But just as I grabbed the phone, Ethan snatched it from my hand and smashed it. The screen cracked into pieces, and I felt my heart sink with it. He grabbed my chin and said, “My uncle’s temper is unpredictable. Everyone in Beverton fears him. If he finds out I can’t even handle a cheating wife, he’ll think I’m worthless. He’ll never hand the company over to me. Audrey, that’s why you were trying to call him, right?” I shook my head frantically. “No, the baby is…” Before I could finish, Hazel stepped on my belly with the tip of her high heel. “Why are you even wasting time on this woman, Ethan? Let’s kill that baby and go earn some credit with Grandpa.” A wave of searing pain shot through my abdomen. I could feel the baby twisting in panic inside me, and terror—unlike anything I’d ever known—flooded my chest. I looked up at them, pleading. “Please… Don’t hurt my baby…” Hazel lifted her phone and aimed it at me, saying, “Get on your knees, bark like a dog, and say you’re filthy. Do that, and maybe I’ll spare your baby.”

For the sake of the child in my belly, I could no longer care about my pride or dignity. I turned and dropped to my knees. I let out two barking sounds, my voice trembling as I said, “I’m filthy.” Hazel leaned down as she curled her lips into a triumphant smile. “Audrey, when I once kneeled in front of you and begged you not to marry Ethan, did you ever imagine you’d end up like this?” Hazel had come to plead with me back then, saying she and Ethan were in love, and asked me to call off the engagement. The marriage between the Moore and the Smith families had been arranged by our elders, bound by countless business interests. If I were to end it, the blame would fall squarely on my family—we’d be the ones suffering the consequences. So, I rejected her request. I never thought she’d hold that grudge for this long. But I had no strength left to argue about the past. I looked up at them, pleading, “Please call an ambulance…” Ethan stomped down hard on my back. “Audrey, you really are shameless! You’d do anything for that disreputable child!” I was crushed to the ground, my belly slamming against the hard floor. Pain exploded across my belly like wildfire. “You said you’d spare the baby…” I muttered. Hazel’s tone was nonchalant as she remarked, “I said I’d let the child go. Ethan didn’t say a thing, did he?” “You’ve got some nerve to use that child and my name to lie your way into the Moore family. Do you think I’d let you off that easily? Dream on!” Ethan snapped. Ethan kicked me square in the stomach. Pain shot through me like lightning, and bright red blood began to stream down my legs. I could feel the baby in my belly stop moving bit by bit. Despair surged through me, and the hatred in my eyes as I looked at them cut deeper than a blade. “Ethan, Hazel, you’re going to regret it!” I shouted. Hazel stood next to Ethan, her gaze full of venom. “Ethan, she still doesn’t know how to repent. Clearly, she still hasn’t learned her lesson.” Ethan sneered. “We’ll see who ends up regretting this. Hazel, go get a rope.” Hazel understood instantly. She rummaged in the living room, returned with a rope, and walked toward me. I dragged my bloodied body and retreated. My eyes were filled with terror as I asked, “What are you doing?” But all I got in return were their faces twisted with excitement. They tied my hands and feet together. They then dragged me out of the house by the rope. Blood smeared the floor behind me in a long, terrible trail. They dragged me to the edge of the pool. Ethan kicked me into the water. I couldn’t move with my limbs bound, so I sank straight to the bottom in despair. The pool water rushed into my nose and mouth—I was suffocating. Just when I thought I was going to die, Ethan yanked the rope and pulled me back up. “Have you learned your lesson, Audrey? Do you dare to cheat on me again?” I gasped for air, but the pain in my abdomen kept sinking deeper and deeper. I had taken prenatal classes with Jeremiah. I knew what was happening. The trauma had triggered early labor. Although I knew the chances of saving the baby were slim, I couldn’t give up hope. I begged Ethan again. “I was wrong. I’ll never do it again. Please, spare me and the baby. I’m going into labor. Please call an ambulance. I’m begging you…” Ethan spat at me. “Even now, you’re still thinking about that child? You clearly haven’t learned a lesson! There’s no way I’m letting that child leave the Moore residence alive!” With that, he raised his foot again, ready to kick me back into the pool. I closed my eyes in despair. Fear of drowning filled my heart. Just then, the front door of the villa slammed open. Jeremiah rushed over, panic written all over his face as he shouted, “Stop right there!”

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I’ve been married to Special Forces Commander David Miller for six years. He’s always been attentive to me, yet he did three things that shattered my heart. The first was when our son Jacob Miller died of illness. That day, David brought back a boy who resembled him from Texas. David said, “This is Ethan. He’ll be our son from now on.” The second was on the day of Jacob’s funeral, when David threw a lavish birthday party for Ethan Wilson. The third was during Jacob’s burial, when David took Ethan and his birth mother Jennifer Cooper to a restaurant, not even coming to see Jacob one last time. Holding Jacob’s urn, I felt utterly desperate. In the end, I used the Purple Heart medal my father had earned to exchange for divorce papers from the Pentagon. This marriage that began with gratitude was now over. ***** After getting the divorce papers from the Pentagon’s Personnel Department, I voluntarily applied for a transfer to a military base in Alaska. Even as he walked me out, Personnel Manager Owen Johnson was still trying to persuade me: “Sophia, you’ve been married to Colonel Miller for six years, and he’s about to be promoted to Brigadier General. Why insist on divorcing him and going to such a remote base? “Colonel Miller is deeply in love with you. After the divorce, finding another suitable partner won’t be easy!” Hearing his words, I tried to force a smile, but my heart was breaking. If I hadn’t gone to ask David to pull strings for a specialist when Jacob was critically ill that day, accidentally overhearing his conversation with his aide Quinn Smith, I might still think he was a loyal and honorable man. Quinn asked, “Sir, we’ve brought Jennifer’s child here, but how do we explain this to Sophia?” David frowned and said coldly, “Ethan is my child. I absolutely cannot let him grow up elsewhere! “Keep it from Sophia for now. Tell her Ethan is the orphaned child of my fallen comrade.” Quinn hesitated, “But if Sophia discovers the truth…” David sneered, “Even if she finds out, what can she do? Her parents are dead, and she has a sick child. She can only rely on me. “If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll remain my wife!” Those words stabbed into my heart like knives, making me wish I were dead. David had been having an affair all along, while I was still giving him everything. I was so angry that I coughed up blood. Looking at the blood in my palm, I suddenly remembered what happened three years ago. Back then, David was ambushed during an anti-terrorism mission in Texas. I was pregnant at the time, but I moved stone after stone with my bare hands, scraping them raw and bloody, to rescue him. After returning home, I went into premature labor. Jacob was sickly from birth. My health deteriorated too, and the military doctor said I could never have children again. At that time, David swore in front of his leaders and comrades that he would never betray me. His superiors admired his performance and devotion, promoting him to commander. I never imagined it was all an elaborate performance! David did all this for his career, so his mistress and illegitimate son could live well. Thinking of this, I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and said firmly, “Mr. Johnson, thank you for your concern, but my mind is made up.” Owen sighed, “Since you’ve decided, take care of Jacob’s affairs and leave as soon as possible.” Hearing Jacob’s name, I felt a stab of pain. He was only three years old. I still remember how he smiled at me just a while ago. Now, only his body remains. He will never smile at me again. David still doesn’t know that Jacob has passed away. He’s still with Jennifer and Ethan. I folded the divorce papers and put them in my pocket, then turned to leave. After Jacob’s cremation tomorrow, I can take him and leave this place.

I had just returned to the apartment when David walked in. Seeing my pale face, he frowned, took my hand and said, “Why are your hands so cold? I’ll have the chef make you some hot soup tonight.” His hands were still broad and warm, but that warmth could no longer melt my frozen heart. David looked around and asked, “Where’s Jacob?” Just when I thought he was finally going to realize Jacob had passed away, he continued on his own, “Is his cold still not better? Is he still in the hospital? Never mind. Do you still have that pure silver cross pendant your mother left you? I want to give it to Ethan.” He spoke in a calm tone, adding, “If it weren’t for his father Mark saving me last Christmas, I would have been dead by now.” I lowered my head, quietly withdrew my hands, and said, “I understand. I’ll go get it now.” Seeing my gloomy expression, David held my shoulders and reassured me, “Sophia, don’t misunderstand. I just want to help Jennifer and Ethan since they have no one to rely on.” My heart ached, but I forced a smile and said, “I understand, don’t worry.” Jacob was gone now, and none of this mattered to me anymore. Hearing this, David visibly relaxed. I turned and walked into the bedroom, retrieving the cross pendant from the deepest part of the drawer. The cold silver pendant lay heavy in my palm, carrying too many of my memories. The day Jacob left, I had taken it off and never dared to look at it again. And now, David wanted to give it to someone else’s child. When I returned to the living room with the pendant, I found David had already taken out several brand-new winter clothes. “These cashmere coats are good quality. Jennifer should like them.” I watched coldly as he collected the new clothes I had purchased with several months’ salary, laughing bitterly inside. In our six years of marriage, David had never shown such care for me. With heavy steps, I handed him the cross pendant and the newly processed adoption documents. I said, “Ethan’s adoption paperwork is complete. It will be convenient for his schooling and medical care from now on.” David froze, then exclaimed with delight, “Sophia, I knew you’d understand me best!” Seeming to realize his overreaction, he quickly cleared his throat to cover it up. “Regardless, I only love you and Jacob in my heart. Once I’ve settled them, I’ll focus on taking care of you both.” With that, he planted a routine kiss on my cheek. But this time, I no longer felt that flutter in my heart. After getting the pendant, David rushed off to Jennifer’s apartment. Watching his hurried silhouette disappear, I felt painful, recalling Jacob’s final moments. Back then, I thought David was truly busy with military duties when I took Jacob to the hospital alone. I stayed by Jacob’s side until he weakly said he wanted to see David, and only then did I hurry to find him. But I never expected to witness that scene. Jennifer holding David’s hand on one side and Ethan’s on the other, shopping. Ethan called David “Dad.” They looked like a happy family. Only when I called out to him did David hastily let go. I was disappointed but didn’t have time to question him, only urging him to go see Jacob at the hospital. But he made excuses again: “I’m busy right now. Let the doctor prescribe some medicine for him. I’ll go see him another day.” David never visited Jacob before he passed away. My trust and love for him collapsed in an instant. Before Jacob died, he held my hand and asked, “Mom, why doesn’t Dad come to see me? Does he hate me?” Before he could finish, he took his last breath. My heart ached so much I couldn’t breathe. I wanted so badly to tell him that his father already had a new family and didn’t want us anymore. But I couldn’t bring myself to say those words, I could only hold his gradually cooling hand and weep.

After composing myself, I began packing my belongings. I had only packed half of my things when David eagerly brought Jennifer and Ethan into the apartment. When I walked into the living room, I saw David directing workers to cut down the oak tree in the yard. That tree was planted together on our wedding Christmas, symbolizing that our love would flourish and endure like an oak. David saw me and hurriedly looked away, pretending not to notice me. Jennifer, however, walked over with Ethan under her protection. She was wearing the cashmere coat David had taken from me this morning. And around Ethan’s neck hung the cross pendant that should have belonged to Jacob. Jennifer smiled and said gently, “I just casually mentioned to David that Ethan has been allergic to oak pollen since he was little, and he immediately had the tree cut down. Sophia, please don’t be upset. I’m sorry.” Jennifer made herself sound innocent, making me appear unreasonable. David shielded her behind him before looking at me, saying perfunctorily, “Sophia, don’t misunderstand. Jennifer and Ethan moved in for convenience with school. We’re all family.” I thought, “For Ethan’s school convenience? What about Jacob? He didn’t even get to taste his father’s spaghetti before he died.” Looking at Jennifer and Ethan hiding behind David, I couldn’t help but smirk coldly. That Christmas, my parents sacrificed themselves to save David’s parents. At their grave, he swore to take care of me for life. Out of gratitude to the Miller family, I willingly married him. But now, for Jennifer and Ethan, he had discarded our past. Even Jacob had lost his life in this sham of a marriage. Seeing my silence, David added, “Why are you wearing black today? We’re having a birthday party for Ethan tonight. Remember to change into something nice.” I jerked my head up, staring at him in disbelief. Today was Jacob’s funeral, yet he wanted to throw someone else a birthday party. In that moment, David seemed frighteningly unfamiliar, as if I had never truly known him. “I’m not interested,” I said. As I turned to leave, David grabbed my wrist. He said impatiently, “Sophia, can you stop making a scene? I’m very busy lately and don’t have time to cater to your emotions. Tonight at eight, we’re having a party here. Remember to bring Jacob too.” My whole body trembled as I thought, “If he knew Jacob was gone and today was his funeral, would David still say such things?” Just as I was about to reveal this, Jennifer suddenly approached and grabbed my hand. She said, “Sophia, your bracelet is beautiful. Which jewelry store did you buy it from?” She smiled, acting friendly, but her eyes flashed with challenge and calculation. I coldly withdrew my hand and heard David say, “This bracelet isn’t worth much. I’ll take you to buy a better one another day.” Jennifer lowered her head and said softly, “But I really like Sophia’s.” David fell silent for a moment, looking at me tentatively. Before he could speak, I took off the bracelet and handed it to her. In that moment, I clearly saw David’s surprised expression. “Sophia, you…” Jennifer took the bracelet but “accidentally” dropped it, breaking it. She said, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” I smirked without saying anything. This bracelet was personally designed by David as a Christmas gift to me. It was good that it broke now, marking the end of our six-Christmas marriage. I smiled bitterly, the last lingering attachment in my heart now gone. Seeing my expression, David quickly said, “If Jacob isn’t feeling well, he doesn’t have to come tonight. I’ll take you both out another day.” I didn’t answer and turned to leave. I thought, “There won’t be a next time. After today, we’ll never see each other again in this lifetime.”

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