Category: English

When I found out I was the stereotypical evil side character in some cheesy showbiz romance story, I didn’t waste a second. I dumped the overly devoted second male lead and got the hell out of there. Where did I go? Down south—to start a pig farm. And guess what? I crushed it. The farm grew, business boomed, and eventually, a popular reality show decided to feature me. But here’s the kicker: why on earth are the male lead, the female lead, and my ex-boyfriend all part of the cast?! Now, they’re standing around in my barn, having a very serious discussion about postpartum care for sows. Meanwhile, the internet is blowing up. People are saying stuff like, ”OMG, Ryan can’t stop staring at Nancy! There’s definitely something going on between them!” What the hell?! Why are you people so good at spotting drama where there is none?! When I signed the contract, they told me the job was simple: raise pigs, live a quiet life, and do the bare minimum. Easy, right? But barely a few months in, the farm became ridiculously successful. So successful, in fact, that it caught the attention of a reality TV show. My boss, ever the opportunist, decided to cash in on the hype. Before I knew it, I was shoved into the cast as a “resident NPC” and pig farming consultant. And that’s how, at the crack of dawn, I found myself staring down a camera crew that had barged into my house uninvited. I peeled off my face mask, tied my hair into a messy bun, and waved at the cameras with the weary resignation of someone who had already given up on life. [Wait, this is the pig farming consultant???] [OMG, she’s stunning! I’m obsessed! Queen, hug me!] [No way this is real life. Did they plant her here? How does a pig farm have someone this gorgeous?] I glanced at the livestream comments and smirked. Look, as the designated villainess of this story, I have zero interest in showbiz drama. That’s right—I know exactly where I am. This isn’t just a pig farm. I’ve landed smack dab in the middle of a cliché-filled romance novel. The plot? A classic setup. The male lead, a big-shot actor, falls head-over-heels for the female lead, a sweet, effortlessly charming rising star. Together, they take the entertainment world by storm. The female lead is exactly what you’d expect: a natural-born sweetheart adored by every man who crosses her path. The male lead? Obsessed. The second male lead? Devoted. The third, fourth, and fifth male leads? All hopelessly in love with her, too. And then there’s me. The villainess. I’m gorgeous, sure, but my role is to be jealous, petty, and endlessly humiliated by the female lead’s natural charm. Oh, and my boyfriend? Ryan. He’s the loyal second male lead, the one who pines after the female lead the hardest. In the original story, Ryan and I had been inseparable since middle school. Desk mates, classmates, and later, a couple. He was my protector. I was his girl. Everyone thought we were the perfect match. But then, during our senior year of college, Ryan met Sandra. Sandra was… well, Sandra. Beautiful, sweet, and impossibly kind. The perfect heroine. Suddenly, everything was about Sandra. Sandra was amazing. Sandra was adorable. Sandra could do no wrong. On my birthday, Ryan left me stranded on the side of the road to answer Sandra’s call. That’s when I snapped. In the original novel, I spiraled. I created a fake account to spread rumors about Sandra, accusing her of being a homewrecker. When I got caught, Ryan and I had a massive fight. After that, our relationship fell apart, and my resentment for Sandra only grew. Sandra went on to become a rising star in the entertainment industry. I, on the other hand, became the bitter ex-girlfriend who tried to sabotage her at every turn—stealing her roles, spreading rumors about plastic surgery, and even tampering with her stunt harness. Eventually, Ryan dumped me. He and Kenneth joined forces to protect Sandra, leaving me to self-destruct. Consumed by jealousy, I lost my mind. In a final act of desperation, I attacked Sandra with acid at a press event. Ryan pushed me down a flight of stairs, and I was gone. Not peacefully. Not gracefully. I have gone with my eyes wide open, full of regret and rage.

The day I “woke up” and remembered all this? I laughed. What kind of garbage plot was this? If Ryan ever dared to fall for someone else, I wouldn’t waste my time scheming. I’d slap him, kick him to the curb, and move on. And honestly? The idea of Ryan liking someone else was ridiculous. This is the same Ryan who barely knows five people outside of me. The guy who probably couldn’t even name our homeroom teacher. If he wasn’t drawing, he was glued to my side—buying me lunch, saving me a seat in class, doing my laundry, walking me home. When would he even have time to meet Sandra? At first, I thought this was all just some bizarre nightmare. But then, the senior year started, and I saw her. Sandra. She was exactly as the story described: radiant, dazzling, and full of life. Even in a crowd, she was the center of attention. Something inside me twisted. A bad feeling crept up my spine, but I pushed it down and told myself it was nothing. Still, I couldn’t help it. I got annoyed and told Ryan to stay away from her. He laughed, kissed my cheek, and promised he would. But then they started running into each other more and more. And before I knew it, Ryan’s eyes lingered on her longer than they should have. He didn’t even realize it himself, but suddenly, every other sentence out of his mouth was about Sandra. “Why are you so desperate to be friends with her?” I finally snapped. Ryan’s smile faded. “I’ll explain later,” he said quietly. But the knot of dread in my chest wouldn’t go away. I started dreaming about falling down those stairs. On my birthday, Sandra called Ryan. He left me by the side of the road and walked away. I stared after him, my heart breaking. That’s when I knew I couldn’t change my fate. So I ran. I broke up with Ryan over text, packed my bags, and disappeared. I moved to a place where no one could find me. I poured myself into my work, using everything I knew to become a research specialist at a nationally renowned pig farm. I dedicated my life to raising the best, most beautiful pigs in the country. And just when I thought I’d finally escaped, fate caught up with me again. The reality show moved in, and so did my past. Fine. Let the wheels of destiny turn. If I pretend well enough, maybe this nonsense will pass me by. I gave the crew a tour of the farm and returned to the set where the cast was waiting. And then I saw him. Ryan. He was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, his face cold and distant. Next to him was Sandra, radiant in a white dress, her long black hair flowing like a heroine fresh out of a romance novel. Leaning lazily against the wall was Kenneth, the male lead, smirking as Sandra chatted away. Sandra saw me and lit up. “Oh, a new face! Come here, come here!” She was as lively and sweet as ever, and her excitement drew everyone’s attention to me. Ryan’s eyes locked onto mine, sharp and icy. The chat exploded. [OMG, look at these visuals! Everyone here is gorgeous!] [Sandra is so adorable! She’s the perfect heroine!] [Kenneth looks so soft when he looks at Sandra. I’m obsessed with this ship!] [Wait, isn’t Ryan a famous painter? And Sandra personally invited him to the show? I’m here for this couple!] My heart ached, but I forced a smile. Sandra ran over and grabbed my hand. Ryan smiled, too—but there wasn’t a shred of warmth in his eyes. A shiver ran down my spine. Oh, he’s pissed.

The first segment of the livestream kicked off with the host introducing me as “Nancy, a world-renowned pig farming expert.” I waved my hand with a smile, trying to play it down. “Not world-renowned, and definitely not an expert.” When I went to find a seat, I realized the only spot left was, of course, between Ryan and Sandra. Nope. Not happening. Instead, I calmly grabbed a stool from the side, set it down, and sat on it like a well-behaved student. The host then revealed the episode’s main task: teams of two would adopt and care for a piglet. To make the pairings fair, we’d play a game of “I Have, You Haven’t.” It started off easy enough, with everyone throwing out pretty generic experiences. Then, it was Ryan’s turn. He leaned back, expression cold, and said, “I’ve been dumped before.” The room fell silent, followed by the faint sound of people whispering, “Really? That’s it?” Two guests raised their hands, admitting they’d been dumped before, too. Meanwhile, the livestream chat was going wild: [Wait, WHAT?! Who would dump Ryan? He’s perfect!] [Drop their name. We’ll handle it.] I rested my chin on my hand, smirking to myself. It was me. But Ryan’s eyes didn’t leave me. He kept staring, and it was starting to make me uncomfortable. Sure, technically, I dumped him, but let’s not kid ourselves—if I hadn’t run first, he would’ve done it eventually. I snorted softly and waited for my turn. When it came, I casually said, “I’ve dealt with a cheating ex before. But don’t worry, I woke up in time and dumped him.” The room erupted into applause. People clapped, some even praising me for being smart enough to cut my losses. Ryan blinked, momentarily stunned. Then his expression darkened. I tilted my head, giving him a smug little smile. Yeah, that’s right. I’m talking about you, you jerk. Before I could enjoy the moment, someone handed me a piece of candy. It was Anthony, the pretty boy idol with a face that looked like it had been handcrafted by angels. He smiled warmly and said, “Nancy, you’re so stunning. I can’t believe someone would be stupid enough to cheat on you.” The “stupid cheater” in question? Ryan. And Ryan? Oh, his mood instantly soured. The air around him practically dropped ten degrees as he glared at Anthony with the intensity of a thousand suns. Anthony, clearly feeling the tension, hesitated before glancing nervously at Ryan. “Uh, don’t you agree, Ryan? I mean, how could anyone let Nancy go? That’s just… dumb.” Then, turning back to me, Anthony added with a wink, “If it were me, I’d never do that. I’m the loyal type.” The livestream chat lost its mind: [OMG, I ship it! They look so good together!] [Anthony’s never been this bold before. Is this a confession?!] [Lock it in! Anthony and Nancy forever!] Ryan’s face? Blacker than a thundercloud.

In the end, I got paired with Sandra, while Ryan ended up with Kenneth, the male lead. Watching the two of them—a brooding Ryan and a laid-back Kenneth—forced to work together was pure entertainment. It was like watching a soap opera in real-time. Ryan, however, seemed less amused. His eyes kept darting between me and Kenneth. Finally, he stood up and positioned himself directly in my line of sight as if to shield me from Kenneth’s presence. I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw the back of my skull. What was his deal? When I turned my head, I noticed Anthony chatting and laughing with another female guest. Ryan noticed, too. His jaw clenched, and before I could blink, he marched over and planted himself between me and Anthony. The livestream chat was eating it up: [Ryan’s acting way too obvious! What’s going on?] [What’s going on? Nancy is clearly his ex. Duh.] [This isn’t a love story. This is love denied.] [I’m living for this drama!] I felt my lips twitch, holding back a laugh. Okay, this was getting ridiculous. I decided to retreat to my room before things spiraled even further. The afternoon task was simple: tour the farm and pick a piglet to adopt. I left the decision-making to Sandra, telling her she could pick whichever piglet she liked. Meanwhile, I stayed behind to reorganize my room. It may have been overkill, but by the time Sandra returned, my room looked like something out of a Pinterest board—pink curtains, matching bedding, everything perfectly arranged. Sandra gasped the moment she walked in. “Wow, Nancy! You’re incredible! How did you do all this so fast?” Sandra was the textbook sweet romance heroine: gorgeous, pure-hearted, completely useless when it came to practical tasks, and always sticking her nose in other people’s business. Before I could stop her, she grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s go help Ryan!” Help Ryan? Why would I want to help him? Sandra dragged me to Ryan’s room, and the moment we stepped inside, I froze. It was a disaster. Clothes were everywhere, the bed was unmade, and random junk was scattered across the floor. This didn’t make sense. Ryan might’ve been a spoiled rich kid, but he was always neat and put together. Ryan spotted me and instantly stiffened. “What are you doing here?” he asked, voice tight. Sandra, oblivious as ever, beamed at him. “Nancy and I came to help! Didn’t you say you didn’t know how to organize this stuff?” What was she doing? This was her moment to bond with the male lead—or at least Ryan. Why drag me into it? I immediately turned to leave, but Ryan grabbed my wrist. “What now?” I snapped. “If you’re so helpless, hurry up and finish so you can go help Sandra.” His grip loosened, and he muttered, “I’m not helping Sandra.” Sandra, standing by the door, rolled her eyes playfully. “As if I’d need his help! He’s useless!” She then skipped off, probably to find Kenneth. The livestream chat exploded: [The ship is sinking…] [Was it ever floating? LOL.] [Look at Ryan’s stubborn, lovesick expression. I’m shipping it harder than ever!] I froze, suddenly realizing something. This wasn’t how the story was supposed to go.

In the original storyline, Ryan was supposed to treat Sandra like a princess. Sandra, who could barely manage basic life skills, relied on Ryan for everything. And Ryan? He didn’t just tolerate it—he embraced it. For her, he was willing to step out of his comfort zone. The guy hated being in the spotlight, but he still joined a reality show just to keep her company. On the show, he was endlessly patient, helping her with even the smallest things. The audience loved it. They shipped them as if their lives depended on it. Fans practically went to war over this “perfect couple.” Even Kenneth, the male lead, got jealous, which led to a little drama with Sandra—exactly the kind of tension that pushed the romance plot forward. But now? Something was off. Ryan didn’t even help her change her bedding. Worse, he flat-out told her he didn’t know how to do it. I stared, completely dumbfounded. My brain refused to connect the dots. Ryan, meanwhile, shoved his suitcase into the closet, and then grabbed my hand and started dragging me toward my room. When we got there, his eyes swept over the neatly arranged space. His brows furrowed. “Who set all this up for you?” “I did,” I said, louder than I meant to. I was about to add, I’m not helpless, you know, but the words caught in my throat. For a second, I froze. Back when we were together, I used to pretend I couldn’t do anything—playing the damsel, acting all pitiful—so he’d take care of everything. And it worked. He never complained. But now, Ryan’s expression shifted. His tone was sharp. “You know how to do this? You’ve been lying to me this whole time?” Oh, crap.

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On a reality TV show, the guests were assigned to feed animals at the zoo. I was supposed to feed the monkeys. I held a small bucket and extended a banana in a friendly manner. The monkey yelled at me, “Get lost, you idiot!” I ate the banana myself and engaged in a heated argument with the monkey for two hours. Bystanders were stunned, the director was shocked, and so were the viewers watching the live stream. My name is Eloise Quinn. In my junior year of college, I was spotted by a talent scout and filmed a commercial. Among a group of beautiful girls with oval faces, I quickly stood out with my distinctively round face. The internet made me, and I became the so-called national sweetheart. The internet also ruined me, as I was falsely accused of being a two-faced bitch and a homewrecker. The reason was simply that Luke Young, a male actor I had worked with, drunkenly confessed his love for me in public, which was caught by paparazzi. The actor’s girlfriend was Wendy Sullivan, the daughter of Sullivan Group. She relentlessly pursued me, spreading rumors, throwing dirt, and launching an online bullying campaign. I’m sorry, I’m useless, I’m weak, I couldn’t bear the overwhelming malice. Under pressure from Sullivan Group, I was shelved by my company, Millennium Entertainment, and stripped of my right to speak on the internet… I chose to plan a grand finale with my death.

Standing on the 20th-floor rooftop of Sullivan Group, I held an amplified megaphone. “Bastards! You’re all bastards! You’re trying to drive me to death!” It was the peak of rush hour, and soon a crowd gathered below. “I’m Eloise Quinn, I’m not a homewrecker! I’m not a two-faced bitch!” The crowd below was in chaos, seemingly shouting something. I couldn’t hear them. They didn’t have megaphones. The wind on the rooftop was strong. I opened my mouth wide and roared. The wind rushed into my mouth, making me feel a bit nauseous. I cried and retched at the same time. Paparazzi, alerted by the commotion, set up their cameras. The flashes were dazzling, even in broad daylight. “Ugh— You’re all bullying me! I swear to God! I’ve never done anything wrong. Those who hurt me recklessly, I curse you with my life, may you all die a horrible death— ugh—” Soon, police cars arrived with their sirens blaring. They set up an air cushion below, but jumping from the 20th floor, even an air cushion wouldn’t help. If the posture was wrong, death was inevitable. People from Sullivan Group emerged behind me. A man in a suit extended his hand: “Miss Quinn, please calm down. We can negotiate whatever you want.” I recognized him, the head of the marketing department of Sullivan Group. He was the one who led the online attacks against me. He was afraid I would die here. “Scum! Bastard! Sullivan Group, you’ll go bankrupt sooner or later!” I shouted into the megaphone, my saliva splattering on it in excitement. “Ah, don’t come closer, don’t push me! Help—” I stared cruelly at the marketing head with a smile, then leaped off. You’re good at throwing dirt? I’ll cover you in dirt even with my death!

Death is a long moment of stillness. The first twenty-three years of my life unfurled before me like a scroll. “How pathetic, my descendant is such a disgrace.” An old, sighing voice sounded. A red-haired old man in a crimson robe appeared before me. Calling him an old man didn’t seem quite right; his face was weathered, but his muscles were well-developed, resembling King Kong. “I am the Wild Boar Spirit. In past ages, I was the one who cursed others. How times have changed, for my descendant to be cursed like this by others.” The muscular old man snorted coldly at me, “Well, I’ll pass on my ultimate skill to you. Don’t waste it.” With that, a red light shot into my forehead.

When I opened my eyes again, I smelled the pungent odor of disinfectant. It was a hospital. Accompanied by nurses’ screams of “She’s alive! She’s actually alive!”, a bunch of doctors in white coats rushed into the ward. “It’s a medical miracle! Her heart stopped for five minutes, and she’s still alive!” “Quick, hook her up to the machines! I need to write an eight-thousand-word report on this.” “Dr. Li, please calm down, take it easy.” Following a young doctor’s words, an elderly man with graying hair excitedly stared at the machines, fiddling with them. He announced: everything was normal. Then, he himself fainted. Later I learned that Dr. Lee, in his sixties, had worked tirelessly for sixteen hours without sleep to save me. Life is so precious in the eyes of these medical staff, yet I had taken it lightly. I regretted it, I felt ashamed. However, more than that was anger. If anger could turn into flames, it would surely burn the entire Sullivan Group to ashes.

Soon after I woke up, the hallway outside my room was surrounded by reporters. I mustered up my courage, put on a “dying but still persevering” makeup, and opened the door. “Hello, Miss Quinn, what do you think about making the front page of the social news?” “Miss Quinn, are you putting on a show or making threats?” “Miss Quinn, do you have a secret relationship with Luke Young? Are you a homewrecker?” The more you say, the more mistakes you make. The less you say, the fewer mistakes you make. Say nothing, and you make no mistakes. I fell headfirst onto the nearest reporter’s DSLR camera – the one who had been shouting the loudest insults. She was startled and hurriedly protected her camera. But other reporters caught this on camera, and the next day, an unreliable tabloid reported: “Shocking! Eloise Quinn Faints in Public, Look What Happened to Her!” The cover photo was of the reporter pushing me away to protect her camera. An eye for an eye, I’ll get my revenge and be done with it.

After recovering, I returned to my apartment to recuperate, only to find a middle-aged couple standing at the door of the small room rented by my company. They were hunched over. The man was holding a mud-stained sack, and the woman was holding a familiar thermos. It was my parents. I threw myself into their arms and burst into tears. Since the incident, I hadn’t shed a single tear, but seeing them, my tears broke through the dam. “Child, how could you do such a thing!” My parents cried while scolding me. I felt a bit wronged and was about to explain that I wasn’t a homewrecker, that I hadn’t done anything wrong, when Mom gently tugged at my ear: “Why did you want to end your life? It’s better to live a hard life than to die.” “Your mom is right! If you can’t make it in the city, you can always come back home and inherit our small supermarket at the village entrance!” Dad put the sack down at the entrance and started taking things out. “You’re so foolish!” “Your mom is right! Honey, give the child that ginseng soup before you scold her.”

After eating, my parents said they wanted to take me back to our hometown. I said no, I wasn’t ready to give up. I wasn’t ready to leave with this identity, bearing this kind of infamy. “Don’t worry, I have a plan,” I said. Dad said we need to use magic to defeat magic. We need to use capital to defeat capital.

I was invited to the CEO’s office of Blue Corp, Sullivan Group’s arch-rival. Sitting across from me was an elegant lady in her thirties. She thoughtfully had her secretary bring some stomach-soothing tea. “I’m sorry, Miss Quinn. My mother has a weak stomach, so my office always keeps stomach-soothing tea on hand.” This person is decent, I quickly concluded. People who are good to their parents are usually not bad people. “Shall we cooperate?” Ms. Blue smiled at me, not looking like someone in her thirties at all, but more like a mischievous little fox. Smart people don’t need to talk in detail. I firmly shook her hand: “Let’s cooperate.” She would give me resources and help me speak out, while I would expose all the bad things Sullivan Group had done. This was a win-win situation.

I was sent to participate in a challenging reality show that was live-streamed across the internet. The show had five guests, covering five areas: music, stand-up comedy, acting, internet celebrity, and ordinary person. Luke Young as a singer and Wendy Sullivan as an ordinary person also participated. As soon as the guests appeared, the bullet comments exploded. [What kind of large-scale drama is this?] [Isn’t Eloise Quinn a homewrecker? How dare a tainted artist come?] [The one above is outdated. Eloise Quinn has clarified, it was on the front page of social news. She might really have been slandered.] [This sister is brave, isn’t she here to fight?] [Homewreckers must die, right?] [I’m here to see the sweet love between the male artist and the rich daughter, I’m satisfied.] Luke Young secretly glanced at me twice, then lowered his head. Wendy Sullivan glared at me fiercely, but restrained herself due to the cameras. She stepped forward, effectively separating me from Luke Young. The host arrived fashionably late, holding a handful of task cards. She waved them at us: “Come and draw your task cards, everyone.” She took the opportunity to advertise: “Hello, dear audience. Thanks to our generous sponsors, choose your favorite guest and vote for them!” “Today we’ve come to the zoo, where our guests will spend a delightful day with the adorable animals.” I looked at the task card in my hand and fell into deep thought. Task One: Feed the monkeys.

I ran to Monkey Hill with a basket of fruits and vegetables. A golden-haired monkey with a red face shouted at me from behind the fence. The strange thing was, I could understand what it was saying! Had I gone crazy, or had the world gone mad, or had the monkey gone insane? It said: “Another ugly, hairless human is here.” I stared at the cameraman in surprise, but he showed no strange reaction. Instead, I saw dense bullet comments flooding the screen. [Hahaha, they actually let a beauty feed the monkeys.] [Are these the monkeys from Mount Emei? They look fierce.] [Just quietly watching what tricks the homewrecker will pull.] [What are you pretending for, with that two-faced look? Is feeding monkeys beneath you?] Responses echoed from Monkey Hill. “We can tease humans again.” “This time I’m going to hit a human’s nose hard.” “I’m going to steal the human’s bag and give it to Sasha.” Me: ??? Trembling heart, Parkinson’s hands. I extended a banana, trembling and trying to be friendly. The largest monkey in the group roared: “Get lost, you idiot.” That set me off. I peeled the banana and shoved it into my mouth in three seconds, letting the monkey curse at me for two hours. “If you don’t eat it, I will!” I shouted at the monkey. The monkey group exploded. Although to others, they were just making meaningless howls; to me, they were cursing very dirty. As expected of those who slipped through the cracks of nine years of compulsory education, they had no manners at all. The largest monkey king was so excited that his saliva almost sprayed on my face, while the other monkeys even wanted to rush out and beat me. I gloated: “Come on, come and hit me if you can. You can’t reach me.” “What do you mean by ugly, hairless humans? Those with hair are ugly, you’re the ugly ones!” The more I spoke, the angrier I got. I put down the fruit basket, put my hands on my hips, and argued with a group of monkeys opposite me. “Don’t you have a mirror to look at yourself? What? You don’t know what a mirror is? It’s something invented by great and intelligent humans, your IQ probably isn’t enough to understand it, right?” “So monkeys all like to eat shit, no wonder your mouths are full of crap!” This isn’t right, my mouth has a mind of its own, my mouth is out of control! I wouldn’t normally do this kind of thing! After arguing for two hours, I battled the group of monkeys verbally, undefeated. Suddenly, the monkey king let out a mournful cry to the sky and respectfully bent his back. “You win. From today on, you are the new monkey king of our group.” Me: ???

I glanced at the bullet comments, which were full of “Hahaha”. The atmosphere had changed from “What is this woman thinking? Arguing with monkeys? Is she trying to create some strange persona?” to “Is Eloise Quinn here to be funny? Can someone really argue with monkeys?” Now, the bullet comments were developing in a strange direction. [This Eloise Quinn woman has got something.] [Look, the monkeys are bowing to her.] [Live version of ‘The Birth of the Monkey King’.] [I’m honored to witness the birth of the Monkey King, all hail the Monkey King!] [Hahaha this woman is killing me.] [For those who don’t understand and are asking, are those people calling Eloise Quinn a two-faced bitch using it as a compliment for her fighting ability?] [I may be a two-faced bitch but I can argue with monkeys for two hours and become the new Monkey King.]

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty, please bestow food upon us.” Voices rose from the monkey group. I hesitantly threw a few fruits in. The monkeys excitedly went to catch them. Half a day passed, and all the vegetables and fruits were fed. The atmosphere was peaceful and quiet. The zoo director came over and excitedly shook my hand: “Miss Quinn, would you be willing to work at our zoo?” “Good benefits, good treatment, five insurances and one fund, and a permanent position,” he added. Thanks for the invitation. Later I found out that this group of monkeys were wild monkeys from Mount Emei. They usually bullied the keepers and even dared to beat up tourists. They had a bad reputation, but were also second-class protected animals.

I’m dumbfounded. I originally wanted to participate in a live reality show to directly expose the scumbag with evidence on the show, but unexpectedly I went viral? And in such a strange way. I don’t know why I can suddenly understand monkey language. Is it because of the muscular old man who appeared in front of me on the day I jumped off the building?

The first episode has been recorded, and I took some time to catch up on the bullet comments. After feeding the monkeys, my second task was to bathe them. For me, who had already become the Monkey King, it was of course a piece of cake. Under my orderly command, each monkey washed itself clean. I led the cameraman into Monkey Hill and enjoyed the treatment of a king. When I sat at the highest point of Monkey Hill, looking down on everything, the bullet comments were saying: [Are you King Kong?] [King Kong, go fight Godzilla!] In just one day, I made three trending topics. Actually, it’s not that I’m amazing, it’s mainly due to the contrast with my peers. Wendy Sullivan and Luke Young’s performances were too controversial. Wendy Sullivan clung to Luke Young the whole time, acting coquettish and asking for hugs. However, this is reality, not an idol drama. Wendy Sullivan became the new representative of “cringeworthy behavior”. “Brother, I don’t want to feed the peacocks. I’m afraid of birds with sharp beaks,” Wendy Sullivan clung to Luke Young’s neck. The bullet comments were a mess. [So cringy.] [I came to watch their love story, not to watch them get it on.] [This is a zoo! Not a bedroom!] [Don’t say that, I’m a stray dog and I love to watch, bring it on!] [Everyone go to Eloise Quinn’s live stream! She’s become the Monkey King!] Whoosh, a large chunk of bullet comments disappeared. Probably all gone to my live stream.

“Miss Quinn, I really didn’t expect to see this side of you on the internet,” Ms. Blue said. I lowered my head embarrassedly. The development of events had exceeded my expectations. “I have a question, can you really understand what the monkeys are saying?” Ms. Blue asked. I instinctively shook my head. Being able to understand animal speech and all that, I was afraid of being taken away as a specimen. Ms. Blue shook her head disappointedly, but her eyes were fixed on me: “Ah, I thought I had met a kindred spirit, like someone who had awakened a beast bloodline or something.” My heart shook, and I blurted out: “You too?” Ms. Blue smiled: “Good vigilance. It’s not me, it’s my brother.” As soon as she finished speaking, there was a knock on the door, and a young man walked in. I looked up and was immediately captivated by a pair of eyes. What bewitching eyes they were, slightly upturned at the corners, with a hint of red. The pitch-black pupils were like whirlpools, with deep blue oil-like light dancing inside. I suddenly jolted: “What a fox spirit!” Then I came to my senses. Standing in front of me was a young man. To describe this man as handsome would be an insult. “How did you know?” He was startled and took a small step back. What did I know? I thought back, fox spirit? “Hello, my name is Silas Lewis. I’ve awakened the bloodline of the nine-tailed fox beast,” the young man glanced at me. How to describe this glance? One glance for a thousand years. With this glance, I had the illusion that I had known him for tens of thousands of years. I’ve already decided where we’ll be buried together in this life.

Ms. Blue left the office to me and Silas, and very thoughtfully closed the door. “What beast bloodline did you awaken?” Silas asked. I answered honestly, it was a wild boar. He gave me a comforting smile. “That’s good,” he said. Don’t think I didn’t see that! You were secretly laughing just now, weren’t you! “I awakened when I was ten, so I’ve done some research on awakening,” Silas explained. “Actually, many humans carry gene fragments of these beasts in their genes, but most people’s special genes won’t be expressed.” “The expression of these genes is what we call ‘awakening’. Those who awaken will possess a special ability, which I call ‘skills’ and ‘passives’.” I thought for a moment: “It sounds like a game.” “Exactly, but unfortunately the sample size is too small. In all these years, besides myself, you’re the only awakened person I’ve met.” His eyes looked at me intensely, like a fox staring at its prey. I fled in panic.

To figure out what my “skill” and “passive” were, I went to a pet store. Strangely, I couldn’t understand the meows and barks of cats and dogs. But when I passed a dog cage, a dog barked at me loudly: “What are you looking at! Human! Watch out or I’ll scratch you.” Suddenly, I had a bold guess: it seems that I can only understand other creatures when they’re cursing at me. Just as I was lost in thought, my mouth went out of control: “Just looking at you, come out and scratch me if you dare!” I hurriedly covered my mouth and stepped back. Well, I think I know my “passive” now: I can never lose an argument. Why does Silas’s skill allow him to charm any creature, with a passive of uncontrollably charming any creature, while mine is arguing with others?

During the second episode, the location was set at Sullivan Group. Before the broadcast started, Wendy Sullivan blocked my way and gave me a malicious smile: “Eloise Quinn, what do you have to fight against me!” How dare she speak to the Monkey King like this! In my eyes, Wendy Sullivan was just a spoiled and stupid elementary school student. Arguing with her was both meaningless and a waste of time. But my mouth wouldn’t back down: “I’ll fight you with my life. If you push me too far, I’ll drag you down with me.” I approached Wendy Sullivan and pulled a creepy smile. “You… you psycho.” Wendy Sullivan stepped back in fear. “I’m going to tell my daddy!” See, I told you she’s an elementary school student. Go ahead and tell. Someday, your dad won’t be able to protect you anymore. You’ll have to pay a painful price for your mistakes eventually.

The theme of the second episode was office workers, and the guests had to complete various tasks assigned by the boss. I was assigned to the sales department. While others were sitting in the office, I couldn’t help but look up at the cameraman and give an apologetic smile: “I’m sorry, you’ll have to run around with me again today.” The cameraman gave me an “OK” hand sign, then shook his camera. A flood of bullet comments poured in. [Up close, Eloise Quinn’s face really can withstand high-definition cameras!] [Is it just me, or does sister Eloise seem so sad and wronged?] [She must have been targeted by a certain rich girl. Everyone else gets to sit in the office, while she has to run around.] [I don’t know if anyone noticed, but Eloise is wearing the high heels provided by the show. She has to run around all day, just thinking about it is scary.] There were those who sympathized with me, and of course, those who disliked me. [Not everyone is born a princess like Wendy.] [Being poor is a sin, who told you to offend the capitalists?] [A homewrecker, coming to the territory of the rightful girlfriend, still prancing around?] [Eloise Quinn is really playing the moral high ground card. Does she think jumping off a building can cover up the fact that she’s a homewrecker?] The harsher they curse now, the more I’ll make them regret it in the future.

After getting ready, I arrived at the sales office and changed into the sales uniform. Soon, a customer came – a muscular, tattooed guy. The other salespeople quickly pushed the customer towards me. I enthusiastically went to greet him. After looking at the house plans, I was about to take the keys to show the guy around. Unexpectedly, a thin, small girl walked over and pinched the tattooed guy hard: “You said you came to look at houses, but you’re here to look at pretty girls, aren’t you!” Then she stared at me with hostility. “You must be Mrs. Gold? Hello.” I confidently went up to her. “Mr. Gold just looked at many house plans, I have them all here. Would you like to take a look now?” You can’t judge people by their appearance. Although the man looked fierce and the woman was petite, based on my experience, the one in charge at home must be the woman. “Mrs. Gold, look, these two houses are quite nice. They face the sun on three sides and have large balconies…” The tattooed guy was left alone on the side. The other salesgirls nearby had a look of watching a good show, seemingly waiting for the tattooed guy to explode. Unexpectedly, the tattooed guy looked at his wife adoringly, without saying a word. After a while, as if bored, he gruffly said to the other salesgirls in the distance: “Bring two glasses of water.” Soon, two glasses of warm water were brought over tremblingly. “Mrs. Gold, your husband is really gentle and considerate,” I whispered to the girl. She immediately blushed: “You’re the first one to say that. Everyone around us was against us being together. We’ve been married for eight years now, and he’s always been very good to me.” Their eyes met, and the tattooed guy pursed his lips, looking even fiercer, enough to make a child cry: “You’re my woman, of course I’m good to you.” If it weren’t for his ears turning red, I might have been scared too. “Let’s go take a look at the house,” I took Mrs. Gold’s hand. On the way, Mrs. Gold asked me happily: “Are you filming a show? Why is someone always filming you? Are you a celebrity?” I nodded. “You’re so pretty, and so nice. You must be very famous. I can’t believe I just got out of the hospital and met a big star.” I patted her hand and mouthed to her, avoiding the camera: “I will be in the future.” Five minutes later, we sat in a tour car to the new house. It was a large flat, 240 square meters, luxuriously decorated. I took the couple around, and the cameraman also did close-ups of the house. Mrs. Gold said with a smile: “It looks suitable, I’ll buy it. The commission should go to you, right?” The tattooed guy frowned but didn’t say anything. I said: “Don’t buy it. This is my first time seeing this house too, and it’s not good.” Hearing this, Mrs. Gold looked at me puzzled, and the tattooed guy was also a bit surprised. “This house was terrible,” I said.

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I Just Returned to my hometown, and a Male Classmate I Haven’t Seen in Years Confessed to Me—With His Wife Right Behind Him ### The moment I stepped off the plane, a college classmate I barely knew threw her arms around me. “Dorothy! I’ve missed you so much!” she exclaimed dramatically. Before I could even process what was happening, another woman stormed over and slapped me. Hard. Several times. “You home-wrecking tramp!” she snarled, her voice dripping with venom. Then, she turned to the man standing nearby and demanded, “Brandon, this is the ‘overtime’ you were talking about?” I was lying on the ground, stunned. My cheek throbbed, but something even stranger happened—flashes of text appeared in front of my eyes, like a scene out of a glitchy video game: “Wow, those slaps were iconic! Queen energy!” “The ‘perfect ex’ is giving major manipulative vibes!” “Uh-oh, the second female lead is about to wake up!” That’s when it hit me. I wasn’t me. I was the tragic second female lead in a romance novel. Apparently, I was the so-called “first love” of the male lead, the one everyone loved to hate. Well, no thanks. I immediately pulled out my phone and dialed 911, my voice trembling with faux panic. “Officer, please help me! I’m being assaulted!” The male and female leads froze, staring at me in disbelief. The woman gawked. “Wait, what? This is just… a relationship dispute.” The man stammered, “How did this escalate to… a criminal case?”

When the police arrived, they took one look at the bright red handprint on my face and immediately escorted both Brandon and Lydia to the station. After gathering all the details, the officers concluded that my injuries didn’t meet the threshold for serious harm. Their verdict? Either Lydia paid me compensation privately, or she’d face five days in detention. Brandon turned to me with a pained expression. “Dorothy, are you okay? Does it hurt?” As he reached out to touch my face, I slapped his hand away, irritated. Lydia, his wife, was livid. “But she’s a homewrecker! Am I not allowed to slap the woman trying to steal my husband?” And then, like clockwork, those strange floating words appeared again: “This ‘perfect ex’ really isn’t easy to deal with.” “She’s the one ruining someone’s marriage, and now she has the audacity to call the cops?” “Girl, just divorce him and let this trashy couple be together!” I frowned and said coldly, “I don’t want her money. Go ahead and detain her.” Without waiting for their reaction, I walked out of the station, leaving the chaos behind. I thought that would be the last time I’d ever have to deal with those two. But that same evening, I was added to a group chat. To my annoyance, Brandon was in it—along with a few of his old college buddies. Brandon immediately started apologizing profusely, flooding the chat with messages about how much he cared for me. His friends chimed in like a chorus, egging me on to forgive him. “Come on, Dorothy, give Brandon a break! Everyone knows how much he loves you.” “Yeah, he’s been into you since college—he’s waited for you all these years!” “Now that you’re back, maybe it’s time to give him a chance?” Their words made me suspicious. I opened my chat history with Brandon, trying to make sense of it all. Back in college, I was part of the student council, so I had everyone’s contact info—but I barely remembered talking to him. When I scrolled through our message history, memories came rushing back. Brandon was that guy. The one who had arranged a giant heart made of rose petals outside my dorm building. At the time, I’d been completely caught off guard. My only thought was to get back to my room before anyone noticed, but his friends had blocked my way and dragged me into the middle of the petal heart. Surrounded by a crowd of classmates chanting, “Say yes! Say yes!” Brandon had confessed his feelings to me in front of everyone. I felt so cornered. Looking at this guy I barely knew, I politely declined. “I’m sorry, it’s not you. It’s me—I’m just not ready for a relationship right now.” After that, I muted his messages and never thought about him again. Now, scrolling through our years of one-sided chats, I realized he never stopped texting me. And the message he sent most often? “I’ll wait for you. When you’re ready to date, we’ll be together.” Back in college, I had turned Brandon down politely because of all the classmates watching. I never imagined he’d interpret that as me asking him to wait for me. For a moment, I genuinely couldn’t comprehend how some men’s minds work. If subtlety didn’t get through to him, it was time to be blunt. I typed a message into the group chat: “I don’t like Brandon. Please stop bothering me about him.” Then, without waiting for a response, I left the group. But soon, I realized it wasn’t about how I phrased my rejection—whether polite or direct. Some people will always twist your words into the version they want to hear. The next day, I went to my father’s company. The reason I had returned to the country was because of my father’s declining health. As his only child, I needed to step in and take over the family business. I hadn’t expected to run into Brandon outside the office as he was leaving for the day. The moment I spotted him, I quickened my pace, silently praying he wouldn’t notice me. Of course, things didn’t go my way. “Dorothy!” he called out, his voice overly cheerful. “Do you work here too?” I let out a small sigh of relief—at least he didn’t seem to know this was my father’s company. “No,” I replied quickly, “I’m just passing by.” He gave me a long look, then smiled. “I’m the director here.” I had no idea why he thought I’d care, but I nodded politely, hoping to end the conversation. No one had asked, but sure, Brandon, go ahead and brag. Sensing the awkwardness, he quickly turned to the little boy holding his hand. “Xavier, say hello to Miss Dorothy.” Then, as if this situation couldn’t get any worse, he added, “This is the Dorothy I told you about. Isn’t she beautiful?” That’s when it hit me—he had a kid. I turned to leave, unwilling to be part of this absurd scene any longer. But as I walked away, the boy suddenly wrapped himself around my leg and declared, “Miss Dorothy is beautiful! Way prettier than Mommy!” I froze, glaring at Brandon. It was obvious he’d taught his son to say that. And then, those strange floating words appeared again: “Like father, like son! This family really is something else.” “Laugh now, kid. Just wait till your mom kicks you and your dad out—you’ll be crying then.” “Can’t wait to see both father and son groveling when the tables turn.” I peeled the boy off me and looked Brandon straight in the eye. “You have a family now. Stop trying to involve me in your life.” I continued firmly, “I’ve already made it clear that I don’t like you. If you keep bothering me, I won’t hesitate to call the police.” Brandon seemed stunned by my words. He didn’t say anything, just took his son and walked away. Since Brandon worked at my father’s company, I knew I’d run into him again eventually. I had prepared myself for that. But over the next few days, Brandon didn’t appear. Instead, his wife, Lydia, came looking for me. 3 I was sitting in a coffee shop near the office, working on my laptop, when Lydia suddenly appeared and plopped down across from me. Her eyes were red and puffy, and before I could react, she started crying. Loudly. “Dorothy, why can’t you just leave my family alone?” she sobbed, her voice trembling. Her dramatic outburst immediately drew the attention of the people around us. She didn’t seem to care about the stares, though. Instead, she leaned closer, tears streaming down her face, and continued: “You knew my husband works here, yet you still had to come to the same company?” “And it’s not enough that you’re stealing my husband—now even my son comes home saying you’re prettier than me! He calls me an ugly mom and says he wants you to be his new mom instead!” I stared at her, completely baffled. It was so absurd I didn’t even know where to start. Still, trying to keep my cool, I decided to be sympathetic—woman to woman. “Maybe your son’s behavior says more about Brandon than it does about you,” I said calmly. “Honestly, you should think about divorcing him. Brandon isn’t worth it, and staying with someone like him will only set a bad example for your son. If you’re not careful, he’ll grow up to be just like his dad.” The second I mentioned the word divorce, Lydia’s expression changed completely. Her tears stopped, and she sat up straight, glaring at me with suspicion. “You want me to divorce him, don’t you? So you can take my place? You’re unbelievable!” she spat, her voice sharp and accusatory. She shot up from her chair, her anger boiling over. “Let me tell you something, you homewrecker—people like you never get a happy ending. You think just because he calls you his ‘first love’ that he’ll still care about you once he marries you? Think again.” I couldn’t help but laugh, though it was more out of frustration than amusement. “I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t touch Brandon with a ten-foot pole.” “Besides,” I added, “I’ve only just returned to the country. I have nothing to do with him.” Lydia let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, really? Then why did you even come back? You were doing just fine abroad, weren’t you? What, you couldn’t resist the urge to chase after Brandon?” At this point, I was starting to lose my patience. “Look,” I said, trying to stay calm, “I didn’t come back because of him. I didn’t even tell him I was back. Maybe he saw it because I posted something on social media…” I trailed off as I realized how that sounded. It was like I was accidentally defending myself to her—falling right into her trap. I frowned and shook my head. “Whether I stay abroad or come back is my business. It has nothing to do with him.” But Lydia didn’t care about my explanation. To her, everything I said was just proof that I was provoking her. Without warning, she grabbed the glass of water in front of her and tossed it in my face. Water dripped from my hair and onto my clothes as Lydia leaned in one last time, her voice full of venom. “Just you wait. You’ll get what’s coming to you!” She stormed off, leaving me sitting there, wiping my face with a napkin. As I dabbed at the water, those strange text bubbles appeared again: “Yes! The female lead is finally fighting back! Rip that homewrecker apart!” “But seriously, why hasn’t she divorced the male lead yet? She knows he’s hung up on his ex!” “Oh, you poor innocent soul. If she divorces him now, she’s just letting these two trash bags win.” “Exactly. She needs to gather evidence, take the house, the car, and all his money. Make him regret everything!” I sighed, wondering how I’d managed to get tangled up in this mess. 4 When my close girlfriends found out I was back in the country, they insisted on throwing me a welcome-back party. After spending extra time getting ready, I arrived at the venue only to discover that Brandon and his group of buddies were also there. The moment Brandon saw me, he hurried over like an eager puppy. He poured me a drink, handed me napkins, and hovered far too close for comfort. I instinctively stepped away and made a point of sitting at the farthest corner of the table, putting as much distance between us as possible. Sensing my discomfort, one of my friends leaned over and explained with a grin, “Oh, Dorothy, you haven’t heard, have you?” “Yue is dating one of Brandon’s friends now!” It turned out one of my girlfriends was seeing someone from Brandon’s circle of friends. Since I hadn’t seen my friends in years, I didn’t want to ruin the mood, so I kept quiet and stayed polite. But Brandon’s buddies weren’t content to sit around—they suggested playing drinking games to “liven things up.” I lost several rounds in a row and ended up downing more drinks than I could handle. Just as I was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, Brandon swooped in, grabbed my glass, and drank it for me. His friends erupted into cheers, teasing him about being such a “gentleman” and how he was clearly “protecting Dorothy like the treasure she is.” Meanwhile, I was holding back the urge to vomit—both from the alcohol and the sheer disgust I felt. Seizing the opportunity, Brandon slid into the seat next to me and even had the audacity to wrap his arm around my shoulders. “Dorothy,” he said softly, leaning closer, “you know how long I’ve loved you. I’ve been waiting for you all these years.” I immediately tried to push him away, glaring at him. “What do you mean, you’ve been waiting for me? You’re married! Do you hear yourself?” “And stop this self-delusional nonsense! Stop acting like you’ve sacrificed everything for me—it’s disgusting.” Before I could finish, I was shoved to the ground. Lydia had shown up, her phone camera flashing as she furiously filmed the scene. “I knew it! You just LOVE being a homewrecker, don’t you?” she shouted, her voice trembling with rage. Then she turned on Brandon, her fury spilling over. “And you, Brandon—what’s wrong with you? Is the food I cook at home not good enough? Does everything outside suddenly look better to you? You’re unbelievable!” Brandon instinctively reached out to help me up but quickly changed course when he saw Lydia’s escalating anger. He rushed over to calm her down, but it was too late. Lydia’s entire body was shaking. “I’m done, Brandon. I’m divorcing you!” she screamed. “And don’t think you’re getting off easy. You call yourself a ‘director’? Fine, but after the divorce, I want $10,000 a month in child support!” “Oh, and your car? Your house? They’re mine now too!” As soon as she finished her tirade, the strange floating words appeared again, filling the air like a live commentary: “YES! Finally! The female lead is divorcing him!” “Look at the trashy male lead’s shocked face—cue the ‘chasing-the-wife’ drama!” “Ha! So much for the ‘perfect ex.’ She’s about to get dumped, too!” I stood up, fists clenched, watching this chaotic scene unfold in front of me.

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I had just won $5 million in the lottery, and my husband Frank was planning to buy us a mansion. But on the day we moved into our new home, his ex-girlfriend Lily suddenly showed up with a child, crying that her husband had died and they had nowhere to go. Frank was overcome with sympathy and immediately invited her to stay in our master bedroom. Suddenly, there was an extra person in our marital bed – his ex-girlfriend of seven years. I exploded in anger, but he accused me of being heartless: “You know she’s a poor widow now. How can you be so cruel as to let them live on the streets? When did you become so cold-hearted?” My usually kind mother-in-law also changed her tune: “I’ve heard that rich men all have four or five wives. My son is rich now, so he can afford to marry another woman. By order of arrival, it’s only fair for you to be the second wife!” Seeing my husband nodding in agreement, I called my lawyer. He thought I had given in and happily showed his ex around our new mansion. But he forgot – I was the one who won that $5 million. I’d rather donate all that money than let him use it to support his mistress!

Just after I got off the phone with my lawyer, Frank suddenly appeared behind me, trying to persuade me: “If it wasn’t for picking you up from work back then, how would I have missed Lily’s wedding and caused her to marry that short-lived bastard? Now that her husband is dead and she has a child to care for, isn’t she struggling? If I don’t take care of them, who will?” Listening to Frank’s nonsensical logic, I was in disbelief. “What’s the point of letting her stay in the master bedroom? Are the three of us going to sleep together? Why can’t they stay at a hotel? Why do they have to live here and make everyone uncomfortable?” Lily might be struggling with a child, but wasn’t I struggling too, taking care of his mother and our daughter? Frank narrowed his eyes impatiently: “Amber, why have you become so unreasonable? Lily and I are long over. If it wasn’t for her husband’s sudden death leaving her unable to pay rent, I wouldn’t have let her move in. Why are you always targeting her?” Lily and Frank had dated from high school through college, a seven-year relationship that ended due to long-distance work. Less than two months after their breakup, Lily married a rich old man. I met Frank at a bar where he was drowning his sorrows. I thought he was handsome and loyal, and I liked him. Later, we ran into each other at work. Feeling it was fate, I added him on SnapChat. As we got to know each other, he gradually moved past his heartbreak, and we had a whirlwind wedding. I remember on our wedding day, he declared in front of all our family and friends that I had saved him from despair and was the only love of his life. But now, Frank would rather make me cry than turn away Lily and her child. Clutching my chest, I took a deep breath and said: “Are you sure you want Lily to move in?” Frank hesitated for a moment before gritting his teeth: “It’s not like I’m making her my wife. Why are you so angry? That child calls me godfather, so I have a responsibility to take care of them. Besides, now that I have money, only I can give Lily happiness.” He ignored my increasingly upset expression, still sympathizing with another woman. “She’s a widow now. How can I not worry about her being alone outside with a child? Moreover, we just won the lottery so we can afford to support them. Lily even said she’s willing to do all the housework, cooking, and childcare. What more do you want?” Only love could make him care for her so much and pity her so deeply. Frank seemed to have arranged the household duties – he would work outside while she managed the home. And I, the lawful wife, felt like an outsider who didn’t belong. Faced with this, I was full of disappointment, but I didn’t know what to say. Seeing me lower my head in silence, Frank’s tone became harsher: “You know she’s a poor widow now. How can you be so vicious as to let them live on the streets? When did you become so cold-hearted?” I looked up in disbelief, only to meet his furious eyes. There was no imagined guilt or apology towards me, only endless anger and disgust. At that moment, my heart turned to ashes, and I spoke softly: “Fine, she can stay as long as she wants.” Hearing this, Frank was slightly stunned, then smiled and said: “See, if you had been more understanding from the start, we wouldn’t have argued for so long. Come help Lily with her luggage.” I shook my head and refused: “I wish you two a happy life together. I’ll be staying at my mom’s for now.” Frank’s face immediately darkened as he quickly stepped forward to block me. “What do you mean by that?” “What else could I mean? I’m no longer interested in you.” I took our four-year-old daughter’s hand and walked past him towards the stairs, but my mother-in-law suddenly appeared. She glared at me angrily: “You want to take my granddaughter back to your mother’s house and let people gossip about my son? You’re not going anywhere. Stay put at home like a good wife!” I snorted coldly: “You mean you want me to stay home and serve the mistress?”

My mother-in-law stared at me disapprovingly: “Don’t use such harsh words like ‘mistress’. If we’re going by who came first, you’re the mistress!” “Rich men all have four or five wives. My son is rich now, so why can’t he support another woman? Lily is prettier and better suited for social occasions. You can just stay home and do the housework for us.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Winning $5 million and suddenly they think they’re on par with the truly wealthy? What are you comparing yourself to, with that underdeveloped brain of yours? I mocked her loudly: “Oh yes, you may be ugly, but you sure have big dreams!” My mother-in-law immediately flew into a rage, pointing her finger at my nose and cursing: “How dare you speak to me like that, you ill-mannered brat! You’ve lived in this new house for so long and still don’t know how to cook or follow the rules. My son really has bad luck marrying you!” Frank silently walked to his mother’s side, glaring at me coldly. Like mother, like son – they were cut from the same cloth. I put my hands on my hips and said coldly: “Didn’t your new daughter-in-law say she’d take care of all the housework? Let her do it!” Lily, who had just entered, heard this and started crying as if she had suffered some great injustice, running into the kitchen sobbing. Seeing this, Frank immediately became anxious. “All of you, stop talking! I’m just letting Lily stay here temporarily to take care of her. Amber, can you stop being such a jealous woman and targeting her? We have a child together, are you afraid I’ll rekindle things with her?” “If I really couldn’t let her go, would I have let you bear my child?” Hearing this, I was stunned, my nose stinging with unshed tears. “Fine, let her stay comfortably. I’m leaving.” My mother-in-law heard this and glared at me again, full of anger: “You ungrateful wretch! Lily arrived yesterday and immediately had her child call me grandma. She even massaged my legs and shoulders to show her filial piety. Look at that mute daughter of yours who can’t even speak!” My daughter is not mute. When she was little, she got lost while out shopping with my mother-in-law due to her negligence. I searched for a day and a night before finding my daughter. She had been curled up asleep in a garbage bin. The police checked the security footage and found out my daughter had been clever enough to hide in the bin to escape from kidnappers when they weren’t paying attention. But due to the psychological trauma, my daughter became withdrawn and couldn’t speak. My mother-in-law felt very guilty afterwards and doted on my daughter even more. When the neighbor’s child just made a face at my daughter, my mother-in-law scolded them until they cried. But now, one “grandma” from an outsider was enough to make her change her attitude completely, speaking harshly to us. Looking at the obvious disgust on Frank and his mother’s faces, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, yes, whoever wants to be the grandchild in this family can be. It has nothing to do with me anymore.” Frank wanted to have his cake and eat it too, but I had no intention of being his second wife. Whoever wanted to be a daughter-in-law in the Foster family could go ahead. As for me, I wouldn’t lower myself for such trash. Seeing my softened tone, Frank also lowered his voice to lecture me: “Look, if you take the child back to your mother’s house, won’t people gossip that I’m abusive or cheating? When your husband’s reputation is in tatters, will you be happy then?” I couldn’t help but sneer at Frank. Hadn’t he already cheated? Why keep up this pretense? But whenever I called Lily a mistress, he and his mother would act like proper people and accuse me of being narrow-minded and not understanding the rules. At this point, Frank took out his phone and transferred me $10,000, sighing: “I got a bit emotional earlier and shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. But aren’t you just making a fuss for some spending money? Now that I’ve given you money, I advise you to quit while you’re ahead and don’t push your luck.” “Also, control that jealousy of yours. Next time, I may not forgive you so easily.” In the past, whenever we argued, he would always end things by putting me down and then giving me money, saying he forgave me. I used to think that money not taken was wasted, so I wouldn’t make a big deal out of his provocations. But after marriage and having a child, he became increasingly overbearing towards me. Now I see that I should never have tolerated his repeated challenges and tests.

Ignoring Frank, I immediately picked up our child and headed downstairs, but Lily suddenly appeared at the front door. She had changed into a French maid outfit that accentuated her curves. She was proudly wielding a broom in front of me. The floor was indeed spotlessly clean. My mother-in-law was very satisfied with this sight and immediately clapped her hands in praise: “Lily is indeed beautiful and hardworking, unlike some women who don’t even know how to use a mop.” Lily gave Frank a flirtatious look and smiled shyly: “I just have a bit of OCD and always want to keep the house spotless, so the person I love can live comfortably.” Seeing her blocking the way, I pushed past her without changing my expression. “Excuse me, good dogs don’t block the road.” After all, some people who have been on their knees for too long find it hard to stand up straight. Seeing my harsh tone, my mother-in-law immediately showed her displeasure on her face. “Amber, look at how Lily has been cleaning since early morning, sweating profusely. You don’t even thank her for sharing the housework, and you keep humiliating her. You’re really a disgrace to us women!” Hearing this, I sneered: “She hasn’t paid me any rent or food expenses, and you expect me to be grateful just because she swept the floor? Is it your brain that’s not working properly, or have I gone crazy?” As soon as I finished speaking, Lily’s tears dropped to the ground with a plop. “I’m sorry… It’s just my bad luck that my husband… Frank, I should leave. I don’t want to cause misunderstandings with your wife.” Seeing Lily crying inconsolably, Frank immediately became furious: “That’s enough! Amber!” I rolled my eyes and shouted back: “Enough of what? This is just the beginning! I’m not the one who asked her to come to my house to sweep and do housework!” As soon as I finished speaking, my father-in-law suddenly rushed over and snatched the broom, throwing it to the ground: “What are you all arguing about!” The atmosphere instantly became tense. At this point, those three stood in a row, eyeing me – the outsider – like tigers watching their prey. From the moment Lily entered the house until now, they didn’t intervene when my mother-in-law was sarcastic towards me, nor when Frank yelled at me. But as soon as I raised my voice a little, they stepped in to stop me. When we got married, I gave Frank a car and a house as a dowry. My in-laws had repeatedly assured me that if Frank ever mistreated me, they would definitely teach him a lesson. They even told me to treat their home as my own and do whatever I wanted. But now, if you didn’t know better, you’d think they were a family of four! I snorted coldly, planning to send my daughter away first before dealing with this. Unexpectedly, Lily suddenly fell to her knees in front of me and said: “Amber, please don’t blame Mrs. Foster and Frank. If you must blame someone, blame me. It’s all my fault. If I wasn’t at my wit’s end, I would never have come to Frank’s house.” “I’ll take my child and leave now. We can sleep under a bridge if we have to. I don’t want to cause any more fights in your family.” Lily staggered to her feet, saying she would leave, but her body honestly leaned towards Frank. Frank made no effort to hide it, directly hugging her tightly from behind. “Amber, I really misjudged you. I’ve already said that Lily is just temporarily staying here with her child. You still want to drive them out to live on the streets? You’re a mother yourself, how can you not have any sympathy for them?” “If you want to vent your anger, vent it on me. What’s the point of bullying a widow and orphan?” Lily nestled in Frank’s arms with her back to him, her eyes full of undisguised triumph. Heh, Frank still hadn’t figured out who really couldn’t tolerate whom. My father-in-law chimed in: “Argue, argue, argue. You’ve been arguing non-stop since moving into the new house. You’ll scare away the God of Wealth at this rate!” Looking at the strangely united family in front of me, I couldn’t help but wonder if they would still be standing together so calmly without the $5 million I had won.

I nodded obediently at my father-in-law, pretending to be submissive. “Yes, Dad, you’re right. I don’t want to argue in front of the child either. But since there’s already a new daughter-in-law in the family, I’ll take my daughter to stay at my parents’ house for a few days.” The smugness in Lily’s eyes was about to overflow, but she still pretended to persuade me: “Sister, you can’t leave. How can I take care of Frank by myself if you go?” Frank was stunned for a moment, then looked at me impatiently: “What game are you playing now? Can’t you hear the child’s stomach growling with hunger? Hurry up and make dinner, and stop thinking about going back to your parents’ house to spite me!” I rolled my eyes, picked up my daughter, and walked towards our newly bought car. As I was leaving, I heard Lily cautiously advising Frank: “Sister loves you so much, how can you just let her leave like this?” Frank sneered coldly: “Don’t worry, she’ll come crawling back within three days. After all, she’s already fallen out with her family for my sake.” I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly to myself. This was the man who once couldn’t bear to leave my side even when I had a slight fever. Now he knows I might not even be able to enter my family’s house. Yet he still welcomes his ex-girlfriend into our new home on the very first day, letting me leave without a care. This was a blatant test of my obedience. If I stayed any longer, who knows how this family would order me around and torment me in the future. They might even make me serve the mistress during her pregnancy! So when you encounter a scumbag, run! Run as fast as you can! Soon, I had my daughter settled in the passenger seat and loaded my luggage into the car. Seeing this, Lily came over again to put on an act: “Amber, don’t be angry anymore. Just apologize to Frank and it will all blow over. Why bother going back to your parents’ house in such a sorry state?” Frank stood by arrogantly: “Amber, think it through carefully. You can still bring your luggage back into the house now. If you can’t get into your parents’ house and end up on the streets with our child, don’t come back begging me!” I completely ignored the nonsense from these two. Satisfied with my stubborn expression, Lily went back into the house. After loading the luggage, I opened the car door and sat in the driver’s seat. Suddenly, Frank blocked the car door with his hand, his face gloomy: “Amber! Don’t regret this.” I snorted coldly and slammed the car door shut, finally getting rid of him. The next second, Frank’s phone rang. He looked down and was instantly shocked. He started banging on my car window frantically. “Honey, which bank card did you deposit the lottery winnings into?”

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I lie in a hospital bed, battling a severe illness, while my wife races to the airport to pick up her first love, who just returned from abroad. She spends her days drinking with him, picking fights, and chasing every reckless thrill they can find. She forgets our wedding anniversary entirely, and when she decides to end our child’s life, she keeps it from me—like I don’t deserve to know. Even when I end up in a car accident, broken and bleeding, she doesn’t bother to visit. Despair sets in, and on the operating table, I take my last breath. Only later, when the truth comes out, does she realize the depth of her betrayal. But by then, it’s too late—her regret consumes her, driving her to the edge of madness. Vanessa Frost and I had been married for five years, but between her relentless work schedule and constant traveling, the time we spent together could barely fill a day. This year, things finally seemed to take a turn. “Rowan, let’s start over,” she said. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I lay awake, imagining a future where we grew old together, content and in love. But everything unraveled again just as quickly. Yesterday, I was rushed to the hospital with a sudden case of appendicitis. The doctor said I needed emergency surgery. I called Vanessa over and over—no answer. Lying on that hospital bed, staring at the blank white ceiling, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Lately, she had been acting strange. She’d disappear without explanation and ignore my calls and messages. I opened our chat history. Message after message, all from me. The last one was sent just before I went into surgery. Rowan: [Honey, I’m in the hospital. The doctor says it’s appendicitis, and I need surgery. Can you come be with me?] No response. Maybe she was busy. Maybe she hadn’t seen it yet. I didn’t know. Hesitating, I sent another message. Rowan: [The surgery’s over now. You don’t need to worry.] Just as I put my phone down, a notification popped up—a friend request. I recognized the profile picture immediately. Ethan Wells. My wife’s first love. I didn’t know why he was trying to add me in the middle of the night, but I accepted anyway. He didn’t say anything. Instead, I clicked into his Instagram out of curiosity. One post caught my eye. Ethan: [When someone loves you, they’ll cross mountains and oceans to reach you.] The photo showed a woman standing in an airport terminal, her back to the camera. I knew that silhouette. It was Vanessa. The post had been uploaded at 10 PM, just ten minutes after I’d sent my last message. At that exact moment, I was on the operating table. And just like that, I understood why he had added me.

Before I saw that Instagram post, I had come up with every excuse I could think of to defend Vanessa. She must have been busy. Maybe she was caught up at work, or stuck in a meeting, or out for drinks with clients… It had to be work. That was why she didn’t reply. But that post shattered everything I’d believed. No wonder she hadn’t picked up. No wonder my texts went unanswered. Her first love was back in town. And I? I was the fool, lying there in a sterile hospital room, thinking she cared. My hand tightened around my phone, veins rising against my skin. I opened the dialer and stared at her number for what felt like hours, my eyes dry and aching. In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to press call. I lay there, numb, scrolling through Ethan’s posts—punishing myself with every word. Unlike Vanessa’s spotless and empty page, Ethan’s feed was alive. He posted everything: random thoughts, moments from his day, reflections on life. The one thing they all had in common? A heart emoji at the end of every caption. He never mentioned her directly, but she was there in every post. Suddenly, I remembered how Vanessa always checked Instagram and how her mood would shift afterward. I used to ask what she was looking at, only for her to shut her phone and glare at me. “Don’t invade my privacy,” she’d said coldly. And I never asked again. I scrolled further and froze when I saw another post. Ethan announcing his engagement. He was leaving the country for good. That was the same day Vanessa turned to me and said, “Let’s start over.”

Ethan Wells. Vanessa’s college classmate and the love she could never let go. Back then, she practically revolved around him. If Ethan mentioned a favorite breakfast, Vanessa would cross half the city to bring it to him. They weren’t even in the same major, so she switched. Ethan liked clubs, so she learned to drink and smoke. Anything he liked, she made herself like too—no matter the cost. Everyone knew how far she would go for him. But they never ended up together. In his senior year, Ethan announced he was leaving the country to study abroad. Vanessa chased him all the way to the airport. No one knew what he said to her that day, but after she came back, she locked herself away for weeks. I was there for her through it all. And when she finally agreed to marry me, it felt like a miracle. Even on our wedding day, I couldn’t believe it was real. When I slipped the ring on her finger, I cried like a child. She didn’t love me the way I loved her—I knew that. But I didn’t care. People called me pathetic, a fool. But she was my exception. For years, I thought loving her was enough. But I started to realize… maybe it wasn’t.

The doctor came to check on me, frowning when he saw I was alone. “You need to call a family member to stay with you,” he said sternly. My parents had passed away years ago. Vanessa was all I had. I called her again. This time, her phone was off. I laughed bitterly to myself. What was I expecting? Ethan was back. Of course she didn’t care. So I called Ryan Hale, my oldest friend. He arrived not long after, stopping short when he saw me. “Rowan? Jesus, you look terrible.” One sleepless night had left me pale and hollow-eyed. “Where’s Vanessa? You’re in the hospital, and she’s not here? What kind of wife does that? She’s got you wrapped around her finger, man.” I stared at him, his anger echoing my own thoughts. Maybe he was right. My love—my blind devotion—had only made it easier for her to hurt me. I took a steady breath. “Ethan’s back.” Ryan froze, the apple he’d been peeling forgotten in his hand. “That bastard came back?” “I think I’m going to file for divorce.” Ryan’s face shifted, his mouth opening as if to say something, but he stopped. Finally, he muttered, “Maybe that’s for the best.” I already knew it was. I’d known for years that Vanessa never let Ethan go. Once, I’d brought her a coat she forgot at home. I found her at a friend’s gathering, and as I reached the door, I overheard her friend’s voice. “You’re married to Rowan, but you’re still hung up on Ethan?” Vanessa’s voice had been calm, almost cold. “It’s different. Ethan is Ethan. I’ll never forget him. Rowan? He’s just what I settled for.” I stood there, frozen, though I wore layers to keep out the cold. But nothing had ever felt so cold as that moment. That was when I knew—I would never be enough.

It wasn’t until I returned home from the hospital that I realized the truth. During the days I had been recovering alone, Vanessa hadn’t just ignored my messages and calls—she hadn’t even come home once. The house was empty, the furniture covered in a thin layer of dust. I sat there for a long time, staring at the lifeless space around me. She must’ve been having the time of her life these past few days. I pulled out my phone and opened Ethan’s Instagram again. The newest post was a video. The lights were dim, the music loud and distorted, the crowd twisting and swaying on a dance floor. Vanessa was there—pressed close to Ethan, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm to the beat. As the song ended, Ethan’s arm slid tighter around her waist. Vanessa tilted her head up, her gaze hazy, her expression soft. Her eyes were locked on him. Ethan leaned down and kissed her—deeply, completely—as though they were the only two people in the world. The video ended there, but I kept scrolling. More videos, more posts. They were everywhere. Dancing at nightclubs, drinking and brawling at street food stalls, racing motorcycles down empty roads in the dead of night. All the things they used to love when they were young. While I lay alone in a hospital bed, this was how she had spent her time—reliving her past with him. The thought was laughable. Vanessa was my wife, yet the only way I could see her was through another man’s Instagram feed.

I had just finished cleaning up the house when I heard the door unlock. I looked up and saw her walk in. She froze when our eyes met, clearly surprised to see me there. “You’re home? You got discharged already?” So she did know I had been in the hospital. For some reason, I’d assumed she hadn’t even noticed. I picked up a cloth and wiped the table again, pretending to ask casually, “Did you have fun these past few days? With Ethan?” She looked confused, like she hadn’t understood what I meant. “What are you talking about?” Without a word, I pulled out my phone, opened Ethan’s Instagram, and held it out to her. Vanessa took the phone and scrolled through it for a moment, and I watched as the color drained from her face—red to pale, pale to gray—until finally, in a burst of anger, she slammed the phone onto the table. And just like that, the biggest fight we’d ever had erupted. “Are you questioning me?” she shouted. “Yes! I was with Ethan these past few days. And you know what? I was happy—happier than I’ve been in years. These were the best days I’ve had in a long time. So what?” The calm I’d been holding onto shattered, replaced by a sharp, aching pain. I lifted my head to look at her, my voice quiet, broken. “Didn’t you say you wanted to start over with me?” She avoided my gaze, her voice faltering. “I did say that. But… I only said it because I thought Ethan wasn’t coming back.” I tilted my head back to stop the tears burning in my eyes. My voice was thick when I asked, “So that’s it? Now that he’s back, you’re just going to throw me away?” I pressed on, my words cutting through the silence. “We’ve been married for years. No matter what I do for you, no matter how good I try to be, I’ll never compare to him, will I? Even when I was sick, lying in a hospital bed, you thought picking him up at the airport was more important, didn’t you? Even knowing I was there, you still chose to ignore me, didn’t you?” Vanessa stood there, silent. Her silence was what hurt the most. It was always like this—me chasing, her refusing to turn around. “Even knowing how worthless he is, you still love him?” That did it. Her expression sharpened, her voice cold. “Enough. I don’t want to hear you talk about him like that. You don’t have the right.” That broke me completely. “Why?” I shouted, my voice cracking. “Why can’t you love me the way you love him? Even just a little. A fraction of what you give him.” I must’ve looked so pitiful—like a dog left out in the rain, crying and begging to be let back inside. Vanessa’s expression shifted. For the first time, I saw hesitation in her eyes. After a long pause, she said, “I just want us to part peacefully, Rowan. You know how I was after Ethan left. I’ve been miserable for so long. Now that he’s back, I don’t want to have any more regrets.”

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After being Klein Barrison’s secret lover for three years, I found out I was pregnant. He made it clear he didn’t like children and was preparing to marry a wealthy socialite of equal status. Not wanting to lose my child, I packed my things, took his money, and fled Rey City overnight. For four years, I raised my child alone, away from that world. My little one grew up stunningly beautiful that he accidentally went viral online. I started live-streaming with my son and managed to build a thriving career from it. When people dug into my background and realized I was a single mom, I had to save face by explaining, “Well, I’m widowed.” Life without a man turned out just fine. I gained a devoted following of independent women who admired my strength. Then one day, I noticed something familiar about the profile picture and IP address of the top donor on my streams. Looking closer, I thought, “No way. This can’t be real.” Klein? Watching short videos? With his uptight, serious demeanor? Impossible. But then he showed up at my doorstep in the middle of the night. He cornered me against the wall, his eyes dark and dangerous, and growled through clenched teeth, “Widowed? Funny, I don’t recall dying.” He grabbed my son, Edmund Croft, by the collar, dragging him forward. His bloodshot eyes burned into mine as he demanded, “And what about this? Care to explain?”

My name was Labia Croft, and I used to be the secret lover of Rey City’s most prominent CEO, Klein. For three years, our arrangement had been… satisfactory. Until today. Holding my pregnancy report, I felt a mix of excitement and anxiety as I went to his office to see him. Klein was still in a meeting, so his secretary told me to wait. As I sat in his office, my eyes fell on a bridal magazine lying near his computer. Since when did Klein start looking at wedding dresses? Could it be because I’d casually mentioned wanting to take wedding photos before? A small, hopeful flutter stirred in my heart. Maybe I did mean something to him after all. But then I caught sight of him through the office window, walking with a tall, elegant woman who clung to his arm. I recognized her immediately. I’d seen her photo in Klein’s private album before. It was his first love. My heart sank as I lowered my gaze and smiled bitterly. Of course. Klein would never remember something I said in passing. His true love was back, and he was choosing a wedding dress for her. Was he going to marry her? I grew up in a blended family. After my mom passed, my dad remarried and had a son with his new wife, leaving me to be raised by my grandfather in the countryside. When my grandfather suffered a stroke and became paralyzed, I took on the responsibility of paying his medical bills. By the time I was in college, I was supporting myself and him entirely. During my junior year, someone told me nightclub jobs paid well. What I could earn in one night there was equivalent to three or four days working at a café. Desperate, I applied and got a job as a server. That was how I met Klein. That night, he was drunk and heartbroken. I happened to be serving his private room. He pulled me into his suite, and the next morning, I could barely walk. My manager assumed I’d slacked off and ignored my duties all night. Without hearing me out, they fired me. I couldn’t explain the truth, nor did I dare to. So I asked Klein to compensate me for my lost wages. Surprisingly, he was generous and offered me a lucrative job instead: as his companion. If I kept him satisfied, I could earn tens of thousands a month. The arrangement was degrading, but what choice did I have? I couldn’t let pride stand in the way of survival. I’d already given Klein my first night; there was no point being sentimental about it. Besides, he was tall, fit, and ridiculously handsome, with bronzed skin and abs like a model straight out of an action movie. If I had to sleep with someone, it might as well be him. After two seconds of deliberation, I accepted. We signed a contract. Three hundred thousand a month, on the condition that I was at his beck and call. When we signed the agreement, he made one thing clear. “Don’t fall in love with me. I won’t take responsibility,” he said. He didn’t want love, and I pretended not to either. For three years, I played my part, hiding my feelings while we kept things strictly transactional. But now, the woman he truly loved had returned, and he was ready to settle down. He didn’t need me anymore. Not as a lover. Not even as a transaction. And to top it all off, I was pregnant. The timing couldn’t have been worse. I quietly folded the ultrasound report and slipped it into my bag just as Klein walked into the office. I looked up at him. He seemed immaculate as always, his tailored suit sharp against his cool, chiseled features. Sitting down at his desk, he asked, “What do you need?” I’d come to tell him about the pregnancy, but now… what was the point? He was getting engaged. Our arrangement was ending. There was no way he’d let me keep this baby. But after three years of being hidden in the shadows for him, I wasn’t the naïve girl I used to be. Besides, I knew I wouldn’t fall for another man. This baby might be the only family I’d ever have. And I wasn’t about to lose that. I walked over to Klein and poured him a glass of water, feigning ease as I made up an excuse. “I saw a jewelry set I liked.” Klein extended his arm, pulling me into his embrace. His deep, magnetic voice brushed against my ear. “What jewelry? Wasn’t the last set I bought you enough?” “Orvis just released a new emerald-diamond necklace. It’s not too expensive, just over 200 thousand. I really want it,” I replied playfully. “Have Mars take you to get it later,” he said without hesitation. Feigning delight, I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Klein.” A barely perceptible smile played on his handsome features. His warm fingertips brushed across my cheek as his thick lashes lowered slightly. His gaze slid down to my lips, smoldering with suggestiveness. “That’s all you wanted?” As someone who had been his mistress for three years, I’d learned how to read his mind. Catching on immediately, I giggled softly, feigning shyness as I climbed onto his lap. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I tilted my head upward to kiss him, cautiously yet seductively. Even when he was sitting still, his presence was overwhelming, exuding a quiet intensity. As our lips met, the faint scent of pinewood filled the air around him. Before long, he took control, tightening his hold on my waist and prying my lips apart with the heat of his tongue. Breath mingling, I could feel the warmth of his exhale against my skin, his restraint unraveling as he carried me into the lounge and pressed me onto the sofa. Just as he leaned over me, a sharp pang shot through my lower abdomen. The sudden discomfort jolted me back to clarity. Protectively cradling my belly, I pushed him away with all my strength. He frowned, his annoyance evident as he stared at me. “I… I’m on my period,” I quickly lied, offering an awkward smile. “It should be the next week, isn’t it?” His scrutinizing gaze pinned me down as if he could see right through me. Flustered, I forced myself to sound confident. “I’ve been staying up too late recently. My hormones are all over the place. Can’t I have an irregular cycle?” He sighed softly and shifted off me, a rare trace of complaint lacing his tone. “And yet you still tried to seduce me.” Adjusting his disheveled tie, he sat up and smoothed out his suit. I followed suit, fixing my own appearance, and hesitated before asking, “Klein, do you like children?” “No,” he answered without a second’s thought. The chill in my chest deepened. Of course. Then, lifting his gaze, he asked, “Why the sudden question?” Feigning nonchalance, I chuckled. My voice came out soft and slightly hoarse. “Oh, it’s nothing. I just ran into a lost little boy at my apartment earlier. He was adorable.” His eyes narrowed slightly, studying me. “You want a child?” “Not at all. I just think they’re cute. If I had to have one, I’d pass,” I replied casually. “Good,” Klein said coldly as he got up, straightened his suit jacket, and left the lounge. I trailed behind him, hurrying to leave the company. Once outside, my resolve solidified. I had to leave. Checking my bank account, I realized I only had 500 thousand. It wasn’t nearly enough. My grandfather was still in the hospital, and I had to ensure his medical bills were covered before disappearing. I had to leave my 500 thousand to him. After all, I wouldn’t come back until I gave birth to my baby a year later. So, I must get all the money I needed from Klein. This seemed to be an urgent mission that was impossible to complete. I was already pregnant, and it wouldn’t take long before my belly became obvious. My time with him was running up. After much consideration, I decided to sell all the jewelry and handbags Klein had given me over the years. At the shop, the owner appraised everything, tallying up the amount. “Five hundred thousand,” she said. Shock rippled through me. These were luxury items, some even limited editions that Klein had spent millions on. How could she only offer me 500 thousand? The owner explained that second-hand items depreciated significantly in value compared to gold, which retained its worth. Though disappointed, I gave her my account information and waited for the transfer. Once the money was in my account, I turned to leave. That was when a well-dressed, dignified middle-aged woman called out to me. Turning around, my stomach knotted. It was Klein’s mother, Marina. “Labia, are you that desperate for money? Looks like my son doesn’t treat you very well,” she sneered. “Not at all,” I murmured softly, overwhelmed by the oppressive aura of an elite matriarch. Instinctively, I wanted to walk away. “Wait,” Marina said, stopping me. “I need to talk to you.” In a nearby café, she casually slid a check across the table and said in disdain, “Klein’s engagement is imminent. Here’s a million. Leave him.” My heart leapt. I snatched the check eagerly, unable to suppress my joy. With this million, along with the 500 thousand I already had, I could start fresh with my baby. Marina’s eyes flickered, her expression shifting from scornful to mocking. “A million was all it took? I thought you’d demand far more.” I didn’t care about her opinion. All I could think about was the money in my hand. Now, I could leave Klein as quickly as possible. “Thank you, Mrs. Barrison. I’ll keep my word and ensure there’s no further…” “Nothing further between us?” A voice, as cold as ice, cut through the air. Turning my head, I froze. Klein’s flawless face loomed before me, his sharp features carved with an icy chill. My body stiffened as I inhaled sharply. “What kind of deal are we discussing?” Klein’s gaze flicked to the check in my hand. His lips pressed tightly together, his eyes filled with frost. I immediately looked down, avoiding his piercing stare.

Marina’s voice was sharp with arrogance. “See? This woman is willing to leave you for just a million. She’s only after our family’s money.” Klein let out a sneer, gripping my wrist tightly as he dragged me out to his car. Once inside, he turned to me, his gaze icy. “The check.” I didn’t dare make a sound and handed it over with trembling hands. Without hesitation, he tore the check into pieces, letting the scraps fall to the floor. My heart clenched at the sight, but I didn’t dare protest. Klein’s eyes darkened, his voice laced with mockery. “Feeling bad for it? Tell me, Labia, is that all I’m worth to you? Just one million?” My chest tightened, his words slicing through me. Was this supposed to be some grand act of wounded pride? The same man who once told me we were only a transaction was now upset that I treated it like one. He was the one getting engaged. What right did he have to scold me? I stayed silent. A million meant nothing to him, but to me, it was life-changing. I bit back my frustration, knowing I couldn’t afford to upset him just yet. The money wasn’t in my account. “You’re getting engaged, aren’t you?” I asked softly, my eyes filling with tears. I made sure I looked as pitiful as possible, a picture of heartbreak. Klein’s cold demeanor faltered. His eyes softened, guilt flickering in their depths. After a long silence, he finally muttered, “Maybe.” Maybe? That was laughable. He was clearly getting married, yet here he was, acting conflicted. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I forced a tremble into my voice. “We’ve been together for three years. I didn’t expect to feel so deeply for you, but I respect your decision. I just… hope you’ll be happy.” Now I had the upper hand, making him the one who needed to apologize. Klein’s guilt hit him in full force. His grip on me tightened as he whispered, “I’m sorry. “I know my mother is the one pressuring you to leave. But if there’s anyone who should compensate you, it’s me. I’ll transfer one million to you.” Yes! My guilt worked perfectly. Relief washed over me. The deal was still intact. We sat in silence for a while before he finally looked up, his expression hesitant. “How about… we break up next month?” Seriously? A scheduled breakup? What kind of person would treat relationships like a business calendar? Rage simmered beneath my calm exterior, but I forced it down. After all, the money wasn’t in my account yet. I leaned into him, playing the obedient, heartbroken lover. “Even though it hurts, I’ll do whatever you say.” Klein’s guilt deepened at my words. He brushed his cheek against mine, his voice soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

The next few days passed with me pretending nothing had changed, dutifully playing the perfect companion. Today was Klein’s birthday. He had a refined palate and would only eat the custom cakes from the Crown Hotel. Months ago, I’d secretly taken lessons from the hotel’s private kitchen to learn how to bake his favorite cake, hoping to surprise him. That morning, I headed to the Crown Hotel to make the cake myself. But fate seemed determined to toy with me. Before I even started, I ran into Christie Anderson, Klein’s first love. I instinctively turned to leave, but she spotted me immediately. “Labia, isn’t it?” she said, her tone carrying a hint of superiority. Since she knew who I was, hiding would be pointless. Someone of her status could uncover my identity with ease. “I didn’t think you’d know me,” I replied casually, picking up the baking tools and ingredients as if unfazed. “Are you making a cake for Klein?” she asked, her tone tightening when I didn’t give her the attention she wanted. “Mm-hmm,” I answered indifferently. “I’ve already ordered his birthday cake. There’s no need for you to make another. It’ll just go to waste,” she said with an air of authority. Her words lit a fire in me. “How do you know it’ll go to waste? He can eat yours during the day and mine at night. After all, he spends every night at my place. I’d say our relationship is far more intimate than yours.” Her face turned pale, then red. “How rude! How could Klein have anything to do with someone like you?” “And yet, here we are,” I shot back with a smirk. “If you have a problem, take it up with him.” Ignoring her, I returned to my baking, leaving her fuming as she stomped off. For the past three years, I’d been the one celebrating Klein’s birthday. Now that his first love was back, I was clearly no longer needed. But that was fine. If he didn’t eat the cake, I would. I’d been craving sweets anyway. Baking wasn’t easy. It took me over a dozen tries to get the decorations right, but I found the process oddly satisfying. The chefs were also patient, teaching me repeatedly. When I finally finished and brought the cake home, it was already late afternoon. Exhausted from the morning’s effort and my pregnancy, I collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep immediately. When I woke, the sky outside was dark. A wave of loneliness swept over me as I lay in the quiet, empty house. Klein hadn’t come home. Of course, Christie was more important to him now. He was probably with her, celebrating his birthday, blowing out candles together. I closed my eyes, trying to will myself back to sleep. But then the mattress dipped beside me, and the familiar scent of pinewood filled the air. I opened my eyes to find Klein’s face inches from mine. “Awake?” His deep, magnetic voice carried a surprising warmth. “Were you planning to skip my birthday entirely?” His familiar yet distant face blurred as my chest tightened. My nose stung, and tears welled up in my eyes. I asked, my voice thick with emotion, “Why did you come back so late?” Klein raised an eyebrow. “I left work at 4:30 and came straight home. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. It’s already past six.” “I thought… you weren’t coming back,” I murmured. “Why wouldn’t I? You mentioned you had a surprise for me. Don’t tell me you didn’t prepare anything.” “Of course I did!” I exclaimed, quickly getting up. I went to the living room, opened the fridge, and pulled out the cake I’d worked so hard on. “Ta-da! I made this just for you. Isn’t it a nice surprise?” I asked with a bright smile. Klein’s gaze softened as he looked at the cake. “You put in a lot of effort, didn’t you?” “Of course! So, where’s my reward?” I teased, leaning closer playfully. “Later, I’ll have Mars transfer a million to your account,” he said casually, “and the title to this property as well.” My heart leaped at the unexpected bonus, but I kept my excitement hidden behind a facade of sorrow. “Klein, I don’t care about things like that,” I said, pretending to be emotional. He cupped my face gently and kissed me. “But I care. I want to make it up to you.” We ate the cake together, laughing and chatting, and ended up curled up on the couch watching a show. Klein, who usually only had a small piece of cake on his birthdays, surprised me by eating more than half this time. I lay with my head on his lap, gazing up at his perfect jawline. He might not be a good man, but he was undeniably the epitome of male beauty. As I thought about it, my hand instinctively moved to my flat stomach. If my baby inherited his looks, they’d surely be stunning. Klein had said he came straight home after work. Did that mean he didn’t spend his birthday with Christie? Could it be… I still had a place in his heart? The thought made my heart stir, and I couldn’t help but call his name. He was engrossed in the movie but still responded with a soft, indulgent grunt. “If I got pregnant… would you want the baby?” I asked tentatively. His focus finally shifted, and he looked down at me, placing a warm hand on my stomach. “You’re pregnant?” My heart raced at the sensation of his hand against me. “No… I mean, what if?” Klein thought for a few moments before answering. “I don’t want kids, and I don’t like them. But if…” I hung on to his every word, waiting for the rest of his answer. But just then, his phone rang, cutting through the moment. He glanced at the caller ID, hesitated briefly, then picked up. From the faint sound on the other end, I recognized Christie’s voice. My heart sank. Klein kept his tone neutral, speaking only a few words before hanging up. I couldn’t help but wonder. Had they argued? Was that why he came back to me? As if confirming my suspicion, Klein turned to me after the call and said, “Labia, I need to stop by the family estate. Don’t wait up.” I forced a lighthearted “Okay” as he left, the sound of the door closing echoing in the silent apartment. He was probably going to be with Christie now.

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As Emma, my girlfriend, received the Best Esports Coach award, she tearfully said she wanted to thank her love. Just as I was about to step onto the stage, Jack, her newly recruited player, beat me to it. He embraced Emma and taunted me, “Captain, I’ve always respected my seniors, but don’t you think some old-timers should know when to step down?” Emma didn’t refute him. Instead, she praised his ambition and hung the medal around his neck as if they were a couple. The whole audience cheered for this esports power couple. But I just smiled, tossing the captain’s badge directly to Jack. I applauded and said, “You’re right. You’re the captain now. Don’t disappoint everyone at the World Championship.” My words left everyone in the room stunned. They all knew about my injured hand, how I had competed multiple times while on painkillers, risking everything. They also knew how dedicated and responsible I was as a captain. On stage, Jack fingered the edge of the captain’s badge, smirking as he pushed further, “What’s the use of this captain position to me? Ryan, don’t you think you’re too old and slow now? You’re holding the team back.” I knew what he meant. He wanted me to quit the competition altogether. In his youthful arrogance, he believed the team’s successive victories were all thanks to him. But Emma knew better than anyone who had elevated this ordinary team to the World Championship. Yet now, Emma just hid behind Jack, her eyes dark as she silently clenched her fists, not saying a word. Seeing her awkward state, I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at myself. Three years ago, I could have become the first person in esports history to lead a team to the World Championship title with an undefeated record. But to save Emma from being hit by a car, I injured my hand, ending my professional career. Some even accused me of faking the injury to avoid competition. Back then, Emma hugged me, crying her eyes out, saying she owed me and would spend her life by my side. From that day on, she said she would be my hands. Six months ago, she asked me to make a comeback. I finally led the team to the World Championship stage, and she successfully won the Best Esports Coach honor. Yet now, at a time like this, she didn’t say a word in my defense, allowing Jack to mock and ridicule me. Coming back to my senses, I took a deep breath, rolled up the sleeve of my right arm, revealing the ugly, centipede-like scar extending from my wrist to the back of my hand. I casually told everyone, “Well, my old injury has flared up. I won’t be holding you back in the competition anymore.” With that, I turned and left the venue. The weather was bad today, and my wrist was throbbing with pain, cold and sore to the bone. To make my comeback, I had trained twice as hard, disregarding my injury. I was already at my limit. I knew that with my current injury, even if I made it to the finals, my hand would be ruined by then. I reached into my pocket, intending to take another painkiller, but my fingers touched a velvet box instead. Taking out the box, inside was a shimmering diamond ring, reflecting tiny sparkles of light. Originally, I had planned to propose to Emma today, but it seems that was all for nothing now. I probably wouldn’t need it in the future either. I lowered my eyes and walked to a trash can, about to throw the diamond ring away. From behind, Jack’s sarcastic voice came: “Oh, come on, you weren’t planning to propose to Emma, were you?” I turned around, facing Jack’s undisguised malice and mockery. “Emma is the Best Esports Coach, with a long future ahead of her. Ryan, what about you? A has-been who should have completely left the esports world three years ago, do you think you’re worthy of proposing to her?” Emma saw the diamond ring in my hand, her pupils suddenly constricting. She was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice, “You shouldn’t have quit the competition out of anger. I’ll tell everyone later that you were just joking earlier.” Seeing her evasive expression, I casually stuffed the ring back into my pocket. I changed my mind. Instead of throwing the ring away, I might as well sell it and recoup some of my losses. After all, I had spent over a million dollars custom-making it. Jack bumped Emma’s shoulder, chuckling, “Emma, you insisted he come back to help me win the competition, but now it seems completely unnecessary. I didn’t find him that impressive at all!” I was a bit stunned. So, six months ago, when Emma suddenly proposed my comeback, it was only because Jack needed a stepping stone. Such blatant favoritism. In the past, I might have been upset or angry about this realization, maybe even argued with Emma. But now, I found it utterly boring. I ignored Jack’s provocation and headed home with my head down. Unexpectedly, as I turned a corner, I was suddenly struck on the back with a blunt object. Before I could react, I was kicked hard in the back of my knees. My legs gave way, and I half-knelt on the ground, my knees scraping painfully against the surface. The next second, a sharp pain shot through my right wrist, as if a needle was traveling through my entire body along my blood vessels. The person who attacked me moved in front of me. It was Jack. He was holding a baseball bat, making a couple of practice swings as he said with a smile, “Ryan, since you’re quitting the competition, let me send you off properly. Don’t thank me too much.” I belatedly realized that my right hand had been deliberately broken by the baseball bat. But now, I was covered in cold sweat, my face pale, my chest and back soaked through. I couldn’t utter a word. Suddenly, Emma’s voice called out, “Jack, where did you go? Didn’t you ask me to buy you a drink? How did you end up here!” Seeing me half-kneeling on the ground, cradling my broken hand, Emma dropped the water she was holding. She rushed over in panic, staring at my limp hand with wide eyes, and asked in a lost voice, “Your… your hand?!” My chest heaved twice as I stared hard at Jack, the culprit. Emma looked uncertain, her eyes darting between Jack and me. Jack quickly jumped in, “Emma, a group of people suddenly came out and attacked Ryan. I wanted to save him, but I was a step too late…” He lowered his eyes like a child who had done something wrong, deliberately hiding his hands behind his back. Emma’s attention was drawn away. She straightened up and said urgently, “Are you hurt too? Let me see quickly!” Jack reluctantly showed his hand, which had a few scrapes on it, probably from deliberately bumping into something. Despite the shallow wounds, Emma blew on them gently, then let out a long sigh, almost relieved as she said, “Thank goodness, they were targeting Ryan. You only got scratched…” Seeing the near-relieved smile on Emma’s face, I was a bit dazed. In the past, she had been most concerned about my hand, even more worried about my injury than I was myself. She never let me carry heavy things, and on rainy days, she would stay by my side to keep my hands warm, knitting countless gloves for me. Even when I occasionally did some housework and got a few red marks on my hands, she would cry out of concern, saying she hadn’t taken good care of me. Now, she was condoning Jack breaking my hand. In front of me, Jack held Emma’s hand and reminded her, “Emma, it’s almost training time. I want to practice a few more formations.” Emma nodded. Turning around, she took out her wallet and threw a few bills at me, instructing, “Ryan, the competition is coming up soon, and training is important. I’ll take Jack back to the base first. You go to the hospital to treat your wound yourself, I’ll come find you later.” I watched as she left for the base with Jack without any hesitation. After a long while, I let out a cold laugh and took a taxi to the hospital alone. The doctor told me that my hand had suffered a comminuted fracture, and with my old injury, it was as good as useless. I felt no waves of emotion about this. I had known this day would come, hadn’t I? On the way home, I called Mark, the owner of the team’s club. When I was famous before, I had earned quite a bit of money and invested in this then-unknown small team. On the surface, Mark was the boss, but in reality, I was the one who held the real power of life and death. On the other end of the phone, the boss was so shocked he spat out a mouthful of water, exclaiming, “What? You want to withdraw your investment? But the team is about to win the World Championship, and we’ll be rolling in money then. Isn’t it too much of a loss to withdraw now? Besides, this team is your brainchild!” Yes, all of this was my hard work, and also the beautiful memories I shared with Emma. But now, I didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. I said in a low voice, “I’ve made up my mind. I’ll sign the contract tomorrow.” Mark sighed deeply, very regretful, but could only agree in the end. After discussing this matter, I unconsciously walked to my front door. I felt utterly exhausted and just fell onto the bed, drifting off to sleep. I was awakened by the pain in my hand. Opening my eyes, I saw Emma gently cradling my fixed hand. Her eyes were downcast as she softly kissed my exposed fingers. “I’m sorry, I forgot today was a rainy day. No wonder you were in a bad mood.” This wasn’t the first time. For the past six months, on every rainy day, I was in so much pain that I couldn’t sit still, tossing and turning all night. Now, I didn’t care about any of this anymore. Seeing that I didn’t speak, she didn’t get angry. Instead, she smiled and said, “Ryan, are you hungry? I bought a lot of ingredients to cook you a feast, okay?” With that, she went out on her own. I took out my phone, and the screen was full of news praising how great Jack was and how high the chances were for Jack’s team to win the championship. Before I could scroll through much, I heard Emma calling me for dinner. A table full of delicacies: blanched prawns, steamed crab, a seafood feast. I didn’t touch a single dish because I’m allergic to seafood and hate the fishy smell. Emma urged, “Why aren’t you eating? It won’t be as fresh and sweet if it gets cold.” Seeing that I still didn’t speak, her brows furrowed, and she looked displeased. Just then, there was a knock at the door. Emma went to open it, and the next second, her previously impatient expression turned excited: “Jack, you’re finally here. I’ve been waiting for you for so long.” Jack walked in with his shoes on, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the food on the table. He even hugged Emma directly: “Emma, you really understand me. These are all my favorites!” In an instant, I understood everything. It turned out Emma had mainly cooked for Jack, and I was just an afterthought. I didn’t say anything, quietly leaving the table and walking to the balcony to smoke. Operating with one hand, the lighter’s blue flame was extinguished by the wind several times before I managed to light up with difficulty. In the haze of smoke, I remembered how Emma used to love me so much, able to remember every minute detail of my food preferences. When she took me out to eat, she would even specially instruct the chef for half an hour on how to cook the dishes, how much seasoning to use. Every time, the waiter would praise her for being a top-notch girlfriend, saying I was lucky. But now, everything had changed. The person in her heart had been replaced. Coming back to my senses, the cigarette had burned to its end. My finger flinched from the burn, and the cigarette butt fell to the ground. “Didn’t I tell you to smoke less? It’s not good for your health.” From behind, Emma’s slightly reproachful voice sounded. My heart tightened. Usually, when she said this, it would be followed by a torrent of nagging that would make my ears ache. But the next second, Emma suddenly hugged me from behind, intimate and gentle. Because her head was pressed against my back as she spoke, her voice was a bit muffled as she asked in confusion: “Ryan, are you jealous of Jack? Why?” “Don’t you think Jack is very similar to you? I’m doing all this to make up for your regrets from back then!” “You missed out on the World Championship for my sake back then. Now Jack is trained by me, if he wins, it’s like you winning too!” I rubbed my finger that had just been burned, feeling absurd. Is the way to make up for regrets to let me watch her transfer her love, admiration, and care for me to another man? I once comforted her, saying that even if it happened a hundred times again, no matter the cost, I would still save her in that car accident. It was she who couldn’t let go, couldn’t see it clearly. Now it was clearly she who had a change of heart, yet she was the one acting all righteous and saying it was for my sake. I was about to pull her hands away. But Jack barged onto the balcony, sneering: “Alright Emma, what’s the point of talking to someone like him? I just thought of a new strategy, come back to the base with me and see if we can use it!” This time, I didn’t have to take the initiative. Emma let go of her hands directly. She turned to wipe the grease from the corner of Jack’s mouth with a handkerchief, smiling indulgently: “Okay, I’ll go with you.” As if suddenly remembering me, she frowned slightly and said seriously: “Ryan, think carefully about what I said. Stay at home and reflect on it.” I rolled my eyes inwardly and just mumbled a response. As soon as they left, I contacted a moving company. I had lived here for over twenty years, and I wasn’t about to leave town just because I was breaking up with Emma. More importantly, a new rookie esports team in the city heard that I had quit the competition and contacted me to be their coach. I agreed immediately, planning to move into the dormitory they had prepared for me. I had always loved esports. If it weren’t for helping Emma, I might have opened an esports training school to nurture talent long ago. Tonight, as usual, Emma didn’t come back. Every time Jack came up with a new game strategy, Emma would spend the whole night researching it with him, sleeping directly at the base. In the past, I would worry and sleep at the base with her. Now, I was busy packing. After packing everything, I went to the base to sign the divestment contract with Mark. But as soon as I stepped into the base, I heard a commotion. “As expected of Jack, this is what a true genius is like. Having you is a blessing for our team!” “That’s right! I’ve long thought you should be the captain. That Ryan guy only made it to the World Championship riding on your coattails. He got too cocky!” Emma’s eyes sparkled, looking at Jack’s profile with near infatuation, praising him incessantly: “Jack, you’re truly brilliant. You’re the most outstanding esports player I’ve ever seen.” Catching sight of me from the corner of his eye, Jack deliberately said loudly, “This is nothing, it’s just discovering a better jungling route. How can it compare to our almost-world-champion Ryan?” His tone was full of sarcasm and ridicule. Emma only then noticed me. She came over smiling and said, “Ryan, you’ve come at the right time. Jack needs a training partner, and you’re perfect for it!” I frowned: “No training.” Was she blind? Couldn’t she see my hand was still in a cast? Emma didn’t take my words seriously. She grabbed my injured hand, gently squeezing my fingers, and said in a wheedling tone, “Just this once, okay? Jack really has talent, his potential is even higher than yours. He can go further than you!” I raised the corner of my lips in a mocking smile. In the past, she had said that even if I hadn’t won the World Championship, I was still the perfect esports player in her heart, an uncrowned king. She said the reason she was still in the esports world, striving to be an esports coach, was to make sure people didn’t forget me, to clear my name. But since my comeback, Emma had been treating me like a training tool. My training load was several times higher than others. Several times I was so exhausted I couldn’t lift my hand, yet she never showed any concern. In her heart, Jack, this more perfect, younger player, was much more valuable than me, an already washed-up person. Coming back to my senses, I shook off her hand, still shaking my head in refusal. She clenched her suddenly empty hand, her eyes suddenly turning suspicious as she bit her lip and said, “Ryan, how did you become so irresponsible? Have you forgotten how ambitious you used to be?” “Or is it that you’re jealous Jack is more talented than you, and you deliberately don’t want him to surpass your achievements? How are you any different from those who kicked you when you were down back then!” As soon as she finished speaking, her face turned pale, knowing she had said too much. Indeed, the knife cuts deepest when wielded by those closest to you. Back when I was injured and lost the competition regrettably, everyone said I was faking the injury out of fear of strong opponents. Some even suspected I had taken money to throw the game. Even teammates who had once fought side by side with me mocked me as useless, even giving me insulting nicknames. Being misunderstood and ridiculed had always been an indelible shadow in my heart. Emma had been even more indignant than me, vowing to make those people eat their words. But now, for Jack’s sake, Emma was stabbing me in the heart again. Jack put his arm around Emma’s shoulders, rolling his eyes arrogantly: “Forget it, I don’t want to train with someone like him anyway. When I win the World Championship, I just hope certain people won’t go around bragging under my name!” Emma shook her head, looking at me with disappointment: “Ryan, you’ve disappointed me so much. Do you know what you’ve missed? You’ve missed the chance to win the World Championship. This might have been your last chance.” “With your current age and skill level, do you think you still have the ability to compete in the arena? If we weren’t a couple, I wouldn’t have even recruited you into my team!” Her chest heaved twice, her eyes turning sharp, her voice cold: “Ryan, I’m giving you one last chance. Go be Jack’s training partner, or else, let’s break up!” I laughed bitterly. Since when had Emma started looking down on me like this? Even if my physical abilities had declined, my game sense was still far above all other esports players in the country. Over the past six months, for Jack’s sake, this wasn’t the first time she had threatened me with breaking up. In the past, I would have been terrified, agreeing to all her unreasonable demands, afraid of her leaving me. Now, I said indifferently: “Fine, let’s break up then.” Emma’s previously smug expression froze. She bit her lower lip, her beautiful eyes widening, about to speak. Just as the tension was reaching its peak, Mark came out of the office, asking puzzled: “Ryan, why didn’t you say you were here? Come in and sign the contract!” Everyone present looked a bit confused. Mark smiled and explained: “You don’t know yet? Ryan is an investor in our team.” Jack sneered, jumping in: “How much could he possibly invest? I think someone just can’t face staying in the team anymore and is running away with his tail between his legs.” Others chimed in to mock me: “Jack is the rising star. Our team doesn’t need Ryan’s little bit of money.” “That’s right, Jack can earn that back with just one advertisement!” Mark frowned deeply, about to rebuke them. I looked at their smug faces and curled my lips into a smile. Because I suddenly thought of a better time to withdraw my investment. Before Mark could speak, I interrupted: “Mr. Li, I’ve reconsidered. I won’t withdraw my investment for now.” Hearing this, Mark’s expression changed from anger to joy. He repeatedly praised the decision, rubbing his hands as he said: “Ryan, you’ve finally come to your senses. Our team is about to win the World Championship, we’ll make several small fortunes at least!” Emma’s expression, however, was somewhat unpredictable. Although she didn’t know how much I had invested, she seemed to realize that my quitting the competition and withdrawing my investment, along with our previous argument, was different this time. I was truly angry. Thinking of something, she came back to her senses, took a deep breath, and said softly: “Ryan, you know our team has a promising future. Given that you’ve come to your senses, come back. I’ll have Jack give you back the captain position.” “If you want, I can agree to marry you on the day we win the World Championship.” She knew how to manipulate me, knowing that I had always dreamed of marrying her. But now, I didn’t believe her anymore. I shook my head. “No need for all that trouble. Let’s break up. I’ll leave you the house we live in, consider it a breakup fee.” With that, I ignored Emma’s suddenly ashen face, not waiting for her to speak before turning to leave. Time flew by, and before we knew it, it was the day of the competition. I deliberately dressed in a high-end suit and styled my hair before heading to the competition venue. While retrieving something, I passed by the rest area. Emma was carefully massaging Jack’s hands, helping him relax his muscles. She lowered her head with a serious expression, tirelessly reminding him, “If you get nervous during the match, just take a sip of water, but don’t drink too much.” This scene was just like how she used to treat me before each of my matches. Jack smiled and said, “Emma, you’re so considerate. How about this? After I win the World Championship, I’ll shout your name on stage and confess my love to you. What do you think?” Emma’s face turned crimson. She lightly punched Jack’s chest, coyly saying, “After winning the World Championship, you can’t be as outspoken as you are now. You’ll be in the public eye, with many endorsement deals. A lot of people will be watching your every move!” The others let out a collective “Ooh,” loudly teasing, “Sister Emma, why don’t we get the same treatment as Brother Jack? You’re playing favorites!” “Brother Jack, don’t forget to help us out in the future. When you two get married, I’ll be your groomsman!” I looked away, raising an eyebrow. Laugh while you can. They won’t be laughing for long. … Not long after, the competition was about to officially begin. All the players were seated in their positions, ready and waiting. Just as the host was introducing the team names and participating members, I took one step and jumped onto the stage. The host looked at me uncertainly. Jack took off his headphones and suddenly stood up, frowning as he said, “Ryan, didn’t you quit the competition? What are you doing here? This is not a place for someone like you. Get off the stage!” Emma also emerged from the rest area, grabbing my arm and saying sternly, “Ryan, you chose to quit yourself. Now, no matter how much you beg, I won’t let you compete. This is your lesson. Now get down quickly!” The audience, seeing this turn of events, wore mocking and scornful expressions: “Certain people who faked injuries three years ago and are still faking injuries now should stop embarrassing themselves.” “I’ve never seen someone so thick-skinned. Is he that desperate for esports attention? Someone should just retire already!” I rolled my eyes inwardly. These people sure have active imaginations. I shook off Emma’s hand and laughed coldly: “No need to compete.” Hearing this, Jack sneered: “Who do you think you are? You say we don’t compete and we don’t? Do you know the strength of our Storm team?” Emma frowned deeply: “Ryan, stop disrupting the competition!” Even the host looked at me with confusion, hesitating as he said, “Mr. Han, if you continue like this, I’ll have to call security.” I smiled, pulling out my divestment contract and showing it to the entire audience. “I am Storm team’s largest investor. I hereby announce my divestment, and Storm team is disbanded effective immediately!”

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A deadly heatwave swept across the city. My husband, ever so compassionate toward the single mother and her child next door, took all the purified water I had carefully stockpiled and gave it to them. When I confronted him, anger burning in my chest, he exploded, stomping his foot like a child throwing a tantrum. “The taps still run, don’t they? Stop being so delicate! Are you really going to fight a kid over water?” Days later, the water supply was cut off. The neighbors, grateful only to him, offered him water but left me out in the scorching heat. Desperate and parched, I ventured out to find water, only to collapse from heatstroke and dehydration. My husband and the neighbor thrived. They used the very supplies I had hoarded, surviving together and eventually building a new life together. But fate had other plans. I woke up right before the heat wave hit. This time, my husband was once again dismissive of my preparations. I smiled sweetly, nodding as if he’d delivered the wisdom of the century. “You’re absolutely right, dear.” But in my heart, I vowed that this time, I wouldn’t lift a finger. Let him see how long they could survive without me.

“Severe heatwaves will continue sweeping the nation over the next two weeks. Residents are urged to stay alert, avoid going outdoors, and take precautions against heatstroke!” The familiar news alert sent chills down my spine. In my last life, I had collapsed from heatstroke and dehydration, left to die under the relentless sun. The memory of my skin burning came rushing back. I shuddered, trying to shake off the haunting images as I wolfed down ten popsicles in a desperate attempt to cool my body and mind. Then my phone rang. My husband, Liam Carter, barked at me before I could even say hello. “Jane! What’s your problem with Clara and her daughter now? Are you seriously picking on a kid who doesn’t even have a dad? How petty can you be?” His relentless accusations, devoid of logic or fairness, momentarily stunned me. No matter the situation, Liam always prioritized the mother-daughter duo next door. He was a doctor, and years ago, a friend had died of a heart attack while he stood helplessly by. Guilt-ridden, he had spent every day since trying to “make up” for it. That was how Clara and her daughter ended up living next door on his dime. Leaky pipes, clogged drains, a crying child… big or small, he was always at their beck and call. In my past life, I had taken the looming heatwave seriously. I had asked Liam to come with me to stockpile food and water. But when the time came, he brushed me off, saying he needed to spend time with their daughter, Mia. “You’re overreacting,” he had said, dismissing my concerns as paranoia. Frustrated, I texted Clara, asking her to let me have my husband for just one day. But my message only made her cry. Liam, ever the knight in shining armor, called me moments later to tear me apart over the phone. Left with no other choice, I went to the supermarket alone, battling the crowds of desperate shoppers for supplies. My arms were bruised and scratched by the time I hauled cartloads of goods back home. But before I could catch my breath, Liam had already ordered workers to deliver everything to the house next door. “Clara and her daughter are too frail to go out shopping,” he explained. “Think of this as a good deed; it’s good karma for you.” When the extreme heat made stepping outside unbearable, he didn’t hesitate to give our last five gallons of purified water to the neighbors. I confronted him, furious. “What about me? Do I not matter to you at all?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “There’s still water in the pipes, isn’t there? What are you, royalty? Fighting with a child over water, how selfish can you be?” By the sixth day of the heatwave, the pipes ran dry. When I went to Clara for help, she hesitated, biting her lip. “Jane, I’d really love to help, but we’re running low on supplies, too. It’s not that I’m being selfish, but Liam has done so much for us over the years…” I didn’t let her finish. “Don’t you dare! Those supplies are mine! I bought them!” But Liam didn’t care. He praised her for her “kindness” while berating me for being difficult. “Stop making things hard for her. If you need water, go figure it out yourself!” It was as if they’d both forgotten who had stockpiled the supplies in the first place. Without me, neither of them would have survived. Unable to argue or fight my way through, I left to search for water on my own, only to collapse and die in the suffocating heat. But this time? I wouldn’t be their scapegoat again. I decided to take care of myself. “Liam, you’re absolutely right,” I said sweetly, cutting into his tirade. He seemed pleased with my compliance. “Good. Mia has no dad, so I need to look after them. Don’t make things harder than they need to be.” I nodded along, keeping my tone docile. “Of course, I understand.” The moment I hung up, I wasted no time calling a real estate agent. If he wanted to play hero, fine. But I wouldn’t let him drag me down with him.

Extreme weather lays bare the true nature of people. I urged the real estate agent to quickly secure a villa in the suburbs, assuring them that price was no object. First, a pricier residence meant better security and more refined neighbors, an essential filter against potential threats when living alone. Second, the suburban location promised fewer people and better greenery, a perfect haven from the heat. The agent was efficient. The villa’s owner had settled overseas, ensuring no disturbances to my carefully planned month of survival. With the property secured, I wasted no time. I headed straight to the supermarket to stock up. In my last life, I had died of dehydration. This time, watching barrels of water delivered to the villa, I felt the weight in my chest finally ease. Truckloads of instant food, grains, oils, and meat soon followed, filling every corner of the house. Thankfully, the villa came equipped with large freezers, making food storage much easier. At the time, most people dismissed the importance of fruits and vegetables, deeming them too perishable. When they saw me loading cart after cart with fresh produce, their reactions ranged from scoffs to outright laughter. But I knew better. I turned the vegetables into pickles or froze them in the massive freezers. No one foresaw how vital these would become. Soon, fruits and vegetables would be the last viable source of vitamin C. The relentless heat would wither crops in the fields, leaving nothing but rot in its wake. For six long months, even after temperatures normalized, fresh produce would remain an impossible luxury. Many who survived the heatwave would later succumb to scurvy and its devastating complications, like brain hemorrhages. But food wasn’t my only priority. I also bought out the bulk of the city’s stock of blankets, down coats, hand warmers, candles, lighters, and matches. On top of that, I hauled in charcoal and firewood. While most people assumed that surviving the heatwave meant the worst was over, I knew better. Extreme weather was rarely an isolated event. It often signaled the arrival of other calamities. After my death in my previous life, my lingering spirit had watched as the city erupted in joyous celebration when the heatwave finally ended. But their relief was premature. Nobody saw what was coming next. Without warning, a week of utter darkness descended upon the earth. A once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon caused by geomagnetic disruptions kept the sun from rising. The darkness was suffocating, and the cold was unbearable. But it wasn’t the cold that broke people. It was the endless, maddening blackness that unleashed the ugliest parts of human nature. The city’s electricity grid, already strained from the heatwave, collapsed under the demand for heating. Solar panels and batteries were an option, but their limited capacity rendered them almost useless. Instead, the simplicity of candles and firewood proved far more reliable. I also stocked up on essential medicines from the pharmacy. To avoid drawing attention, I hired different drivers to deliver each truckload of supplies. It had been only two days since I began my preparations. Then, as if he’d suddenly remembered my existence, Liam called from next door, where he was happily playing surrogate father to Clara and Mia. “Jane, are you out partying so much you’ve forgotten your way home? Tomorrow’s going to hit 117°F! You’d better get out there and stock up on food and water for Clara and Mia before it’s too late!”

I found it laughable. Liam, who had spent the past two days practically living at Clara’s house, had the audacity to accuse me of neglecting my own home. Enjoying the bliss of playing husband and father to his “adopted” family, it seemed he had finally realized the looming danger of the heatwave. “Jane! Are you listening? Where are you? Go stock up on food and water before Clara and Mia starve!” His exasperated tone practically dripped through the phone. “Why can’t you be more like Clara? She knows how to take care of a family!” The irony wasn’t lost on me. Clara certainly knew how to “care” for a family, just never her own. And Liam had outdone himself with his double standards. When I prepared for the heatwave last time, I was “overreacting.” When I didn’t buy anything, I was “irresponsible.” It seemed that no matter what I did, I’d always be the villain in his eyes. A walking scapegoat for all his problems. He had probably despised me for long. After all, my existence prevented him from living with Clara and Mia. If that was the case, why not live life on my own terms? I didn’t bother arguing. “Didn’t you see my message? I’m out of town on business and can’t get away. Besides, the stores are almost emptied by now. Why don’t you and Clara try a few more places? You might get lucky.” I figured this would be my last act of kindness. After all, we had been married for years. Tomorrow, the temperature was set to soar to 124°F, hot enough to fry an egg on the pavement. For safety reasons, stores would close, and people would barricade themselves indoors. But Liam couldn’t care less. He was still preoccupied with doting on his “goddaughter.” “It’s Mia’s first Children’s Day since her father passed,” he said stubbornly. “Clara and I promised to spend it with her. If you can’t handle a simple task like this, don’t bother coming home!” “Oh, so I’m still your wife when you need a servant?” I thought. I rolled my eyes, hung up, and unwrapped a popsicle. Let him make his choice. Playtime or survival? I wasn’t about to save someone so determined to dig his own grave. The first day of the heatwave arrived, and the government announced a halt to work and school. Strangely, some people saw this as a cause for celebration. Under the searing sun, they danced and partied in the streets. It didn’t take long for the first person to collapse. Then, the second. And the third. Panic spread. People began to realize this wasn’t something worth celebrating. Animals lay dead on the streets, their bodies bloated and scorched. The stench of decay filled the air, forcing people indoors. By the second day, whispers of prayer and chants for salvation began to echo in the silence. Meanwhile, I sat in the guest room of my well-stocked villa, savoring delicious food with the AC on full blast while watching the surveillance footage. Then, I found out that Clara and Mia had already moved into my house.

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It was 11 PM and my wife Natalia hadn’t returned home yet. When I called, she hesitated, claiming to be caught up in a company gathering and couldn’t leave. I didn’t confront her. Instead, I quietly watched as she, the woman I had dated for four years and married for five, entered a bar hand-in-hand with another man. “I’ll probably be a few more hours. Don’t wait up for me; go to sleep,” she said in a rush and hung up. This was her eleventh late return this month, and it was the last chance I was willing to give her. At 4 AM, Natalia came home. She immediately rushed to the bathroom to shower. The clothes she carelessly threw on the sofa were missing the stockings she had worn out. I sighed, picked up the clothes to wash, and went to the kitchen to make some sobering soup. “You’re the best, Gerold!” she exclaimed suddenly, embracing me from behind. Her voice was still sweet. “Staying up late to make soup for me? Aww, you’ll spoil me.” My usual warmth was gone; I pushed her away coldly. “Have some soup first. You have stomach problems, and without this, you’ll have trouble sleeping tonight.” Natalia smiled, settling down like an obedient cat, sipping the soup bit by bit while muttering, “Work has been so hectic recently, always either overtime or gatherings. Looks like I won’t get a break this weekend either, it’s killing me…” I remembered she had said the same last week. When I worried about her irregular meals and brought her lunch, I discovered she never stayed late at work. Her empty desk held only a photo frame that included a picture of her and Jason. Her colleague told me the frame hadn’t been changed in years. “If you’re tired of hiding it, just stop.” “Hiding what?” Natalia’s eyes widened in an instant. “Your thing with Jason. It must be exhausting to lie every day, drinking late into the night, then having to scheme around me. It’s really not necessary.” As I spoke, I poured the soup into a prepared dish, pointing out each ingredient, instructing her to remember how to make it. “Next time you drink, you might need to learn to make it yourself.” “Gerold, stop it!” “Are you saying you won’t make soup for me anymore? You don’t want me anymore?” Natalia clung to my arm, her eyes beginning to redden. Years of marriage had me holding back my anger. “You cheated on me, and I failed to win your heart even after nine long years. I think that’s enough.” “What are you talking about? I’m not that kind of woman!” Natalia released my arm and glared at me furiously. “Haven’t I explained it to you? Jason and I are just friends. He recently came back from abroad, with no place or job settled, so I met with him a few times to help. “Can’t you just man up? Stop being so irrationally jealous. It’s really unbecoming!” She frowned in disgust. The last time I caught her lying about a date with Jason, she had used a similar excuse. But if it was just a friendship, why the repeated lies? Why were her returns home getting later and later? I sighed, no longer able to tolerate it. “Then let’s get a divorce. Go find your classy Jason!” Her childhood friend for many years was nothing but a jobless leech, living off his parents and spending his nights at bars and clubs. Yet inexplicably, she was drawn to him.

“Divorce? “Gerold, you can’t just act like a jealous prick! Just because I come home late, you throw around the word divorce? That just makes me dislike you more!” Natalia grabbed the soup bowl and smashed it on the floor. “And I’m your wife, not your pet. I don’t need your permission to see people! “Instead of watching me like a hawk every day, you should spend some time improving yourself!” She yelled and then stormed into the bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind her. The heart I thought could no longer ache twisted painfully once more. For nine years, I cooked for her because of her poor stomach. Every holiday, I never forgot to give her gifts. Whatever she wanted, I went out of my way to provide. Yet none of that could replace the photo of her childhood sweetheart on her desk at work. “Enough is enough,” I sighed deeply and began to pack my bags. [Gerold, it’s been so long. Why haven’t you come to make up with me?] [No matter how mad I was, you never left me alone for more than 10 minutes. Do you really not want me anymore?] I could visualize her tear-stained, pitiful face from the texts on my phone. I remembered the weekend last month when she lied about working overtime. I saw her at a 24-hour bar, nestled in Jason’s arms, their embrace too intimate for just friends. At that moment, I felt insane with jealousy as I grabbed Jason by the collar to confront him. Natalia frantically pushed me away, protecting Jason. “He’s just a good friend! Let’s talk about it when we get back. Don’t embarrass Jason right here!” Her determination to defend Jason mirrored the way I had always defended her. Later, she left with Jason, leaving me stranded, a husband watching his wife walk away with another man. It felt like a cruel joke. That incident had planted the idea of divorce in my mind. But when I brought it up, Natalia locked herself in the bedroom, crying. She claimed I was the one she loved most. She didn’t want to upset me, which was why she hid her meetings with an old friend. Then, she said she had stomach pains from drinking. After nine years of love, her tears shattered my resolve. I chose to believe her one more time. But there would not be a second. “Gerold, you know I can’t sleep. Why didn’t you come to coax me? “Nothing happened between Jason and me, I swear. From now on, I won’t hide our meetings to avoid your suspicions. “My stomach hurts again. I didn’t drink much of the soup. Could you make me another bowl, please?” When Natalia came to me with tears in her eyes, I was writing her a note. It listed her favorite recipes, her menstrual cycle schedule, where the stomach medicine was kept, and the dosage she needed… She had never paid attention to these details, accustomed to my constant care. “Didn’t I already tell you how to make the soup?” I handed her the note. “From now on… you’ll need to learn to take care of yourself.”

Natalia froze in place, not reaching for the note I placed on the table. I stood up, grabbed my suitcase, and started to leave. Only then did she react, lightly tugging at me, her eyes brimming with tears. “You’ve packed your bags already? You really don’t want me anymore? You want a divorce?” Her tears began to fall. In the past, her crying would instantly soften my heart. But this time, I simply said calmly, “Yes, Natalia, I gave you chances. But now, I’ve had enough.” I pushed her hand away without a second thought. “Are you never done, Gerold?! How many times do I have to tell you? Jason is my best friend. I haven’t betrayed you, or done anything inappropriate!” Natalia suddenly burst out yelling, “I might have been closer to him, and yes, we had something in the past, but that’s all it was! “If I really couldn’t let go of him, why wouldn’t I just divorce you and be with Jason?” She pushed me in frustration. I hadn’t yet cleared the broken pieces of the bowl from earlier, and a shard pierced through my shoe and deep into my foot. Blood began to seep out, reflecting my tall but frail figure. For nine years, I prioritized Natalia above all else. I worked tirelessly to provide a better life for her, taking on all household duties after long hours at work. Gradually, my back began to stoop from the strain. “Perhaps it’s because you’re used to being taken care of. You see me more as a caretaker than a partner…” I couldn’t think of any other reason. “It’s not that, Gerold, it’s not. “I chose to be with you because of love. I can’t bear to leave you…” Natalia’s voice trembled slightly as she spoke, kneeling to inspect the wound on my foot, a flicker of pain crossing her eyes. “Gerold, I’ll get the first aid kit to bandage that up.” She stood to rush to the living room and just opened the cabinet when her phone rang. She instantly forgot about my injury and ran to the bathroom to answer the call. The voice on the other end was loud enough for me to hear. It was Jason, and he was drunk. “Do you have any money left, Natalia? I missed you so much I couldn’t sleep, so I went to the bar for a few drinks. But I drank too much, and now I’m short on cash…” As Jason’s voice faded, Natalia rushed out of the bathroom, urgency in her eyes as she hurried to the foyer to change her shoes. Opening the door, she remembered me for a moment, casting a casual glance back. “Gerold, can you bandage it yourself for now? I have an emergency. I need to go out; it’s important.” I couldn’t help but smirk bitterly. “Go ahead, and remember to make some food when you get back. You’ve been drinking all night without sleep; your stomach must be…” She didn’t have the patience to let me finish and rushed off toward Jason. It was clear who mattered more to her. The blood from my foot spread further, forming the shape of a flower. It seemed to serve as a memorial to our marriage that had now thoroughly perished. Goodbye. Natalia. I pushed the suitcase, waving farewell to the home we had shared for five years, leaving without a backward glance.

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## Winning $5 million in the lottery was supposed to be a turning point for our family. My husband, Ryan, promised to buy me a beautiful new house—a symbol of our success and a fresh start. But on the very day we moved in, his first love waltzed through the door, clutching her son, tears streaming down her face. She claimed her husband had recently passed away and that she had nowhere else to go. Before I could even react, Ryan’s face filled with pity, and he ushered her and her son into the house without so much as a second thought. And not just anywhere—he moved her into the master bedroom. Yes, our bedroom. Now there were three of us in the house, except one of us happened to be the woman Ryan dated for seven years. When I lost my temper, yelling and demanding an explanation, Ryan didn’t apologize. Instead, he turned on me, full of righteous indignation. “Emily, how could you be so cruel? You know her husband just died! She’s a widow with a child. You want me to throw them out on the street? When did you become so heartless?” Even Ryan’s mom, who had always acted like the sweet, doting grandma, suddenly revealed her true colors. “Look at all those rich men with four or five wives,” she said with a smug smile. “My son’s a millionaire now—it’s only natural he’d take in another woman. And since she was here first, it’s perfectly fair to let you be the second wife. You should consider yourself lucky!” I looked at Ryan, hoping he’d at least argue against his mother’s outrageous claims, but instead, he nodded quietly in agreement. That was it. I picked up my phone and called my lawyer. Ryan assumed I was giving in. He even had the audacity to walk around the house with his ex, Michelle, gleefully showing her the villa as if they were a happy couple buying their dream home. But what Ryan forgot—what Michelle didn’t know—was that the $5 million was my lottery win. And I’d rather donate every last cent to charity than let him spend a dime on his mistress.

I had just hung up the phone with my lawyer when Ryan appeared behind me, his tone full of forced patience, as if I were the one being unreasonable. “Emily, listen,” he began, his voice dripping with condescension. “If I hadn’t been picking you up from work that day years ago, I wouldn’t have missed Michelle’s wedding. She wouldn’t have ended up marrying that jerk, and maybe he wouldn’t have died so young. Now she’s a widow, and she has a kid to take care of. If I don’t help them, who will?” I turned to look at him, stunned by his twisted reasoning. “And moving her into our bedroom? What’s the plan, Ryan—should the three of us all sleep together now? Or would a hotel not work for her? Does she have to live here just to make me uncomfortable?” Ryan’s face darkened with irritation. “Emily, why are you being so irrational? Michelle and I are history, you know that. If her husband hadn’t died suddenly, she wouldn’t even be here. She’s out of options—I’m just doing what any decent person would. Why are you so obsessed with targeting her?” Targeting her? That was rich. Michelle and Ryan had been high school sweethearts, dating all the way through college for seven years until their relationship fell apart because of long-distance jobs. Two months after their breakup, she married an older, wealthy businessman. When I met Ryan, he was drowning his sorrows in a bar, heartbroken and bitter over Michelle’s betrayal. He seemed like a loyal, devoted man, so much so that I actually felt bad for him. We reconnected a few weeks later at work, and I took it as a sign—fate, even. I added him on social media, and over time, we became close. Eventually, he moved on from Michelle and fell for me. We had a whirlwind romance, and just months later, we got married. I still remember our wedding day vividly. Ryan stood in front of all our family and friends, holding my hands as he said I was the one who had saved him, the love of his life, and the reason he believed in happiness again. But now, here he was, willing to make me cry just so Michelle and her son could live in our home. I clutched my chest, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “So, you’re really insisting on letting Michelle move in?” I asked, my voice calm but cold. Ryan hesitated for a moment, then clenched his jaw and said, “It’s not like I’m making her my wife, Emily. Why are you blowing this out of proportion? Her son calls me Uncle Ryan—I have a responsibility to them. And now that we’ve won the lottery, I’m the only one who can give Michelle the life she deserves.” I stared at him, my heart sinking further with every word. “She’s a widow, Emily,” he continued, completely blind to how hurt I was. “How can I leave her out there, alone, struggling to raise her child? And it’s not like we can’t afford it. Michelle even said she’d handle all the housework—cleaning, cooking, taking care of our daughter. What else do you want?” It was clear to me now. Ryan had already decided how this new arrangement would work. He’d play the role of the generous provider, Michelle would be the homemaker, and I—his actual wife—was apparently just a bystander in my own marriage. I remained silent, unable to find the words to express how betrayed I felt. Seeing me hesitate, Ryan’s tone grew sharper, more aggressive. “You know her husband just died!” he snapped. “And you still want to throw her onto the streets? When did you become so cruel, Emily? When did you turn into such a heartless, selfish woman?” I lifted my head to meet his gaze, expecting to see regret or even shame in his eyes. But there was none. Instead, he looked at me with anger and disgust, as if I were the one in the wrong. In that moment, something inside me broke. I felt nothing but emptiness. “Fine,” I said quietly, my voice void of emotion. “She can stay as long as she wants.” Ryan blinked, caught off guard by my sudden change in tone. Then, a triumphant smirk spread across his face. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “If you’d just been reasonable from the start, we wouldn’t have had to argue. Now come help Michelle bring in her bags.” I shook my head and looked him dead in the eye. “Congratulations, Ryan. I hope you and Michelle have a long and happy life together. I’ll be heading back to my parents’ house for now.” His smile disappeared in an instant. He stepped forward, blocking my path, his face dark with anger. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he demanded. “It means,” I said evenly, “that I’m done. With you. With this marriage. With all of it.” I reached for my four-year-old daughter’s hand and started toward the stairs, but before I could make it, Ryan’s mother stormed into the room, her face twisted with fury. “You’re not taking my granddaughter anywhere!” she shrieked. “What will people say if you walk out on my son? Do you want to ruin his reputation? You’ll stay right here where you belong!” I let out a bitter laugh, meeting her glare with one of my own. “Oh, I see,” I said sarcastically. “You want me to stay so I can play maid to your son’s mistress? How thoughtful of you.”

Ryan’s mom stared at me with utter disdain, her voice dripping with mockery. “Who are you calling a mistress? Watch your mouth! If we’re going by who came first, you’re the other woman!” She crossed her arms smugly and continued, “Look at all those casino tycoons with four or five wives. My son’s rich now—what’s so wrong with him taking care of another woman? Michelle’s prettier and better suited to represent the family in public anyway. Why don’t you just stay home, do the chores, and serve us?” Her audacity left me speechless for a moment, then I laughed. “All this over $5 million? You’re comparing yourselves to billionaires? What are you even bringing to the table—your half-baked ideas and your underdeveloped brain?” I laughed louder than I should have, but I didn’t care. “Ah, yes, you’re ugly, but at least you’ve got delusions of grandeur!” That was all it took for Ryan’s mom to lose it. She jabbed her finger in my face, her voice shrill and furious. “How dare you talk to me like that? No manners at all! You’ve been in this new house for weeks, and you still don’t know how to cook! You have no respect for the family. My son must have been cursed in his past life to end up with someone like you!” Ryan, of course, silently took her side, stepping closer to her with a cold glare aimed at me. Like mother, like son. The same rotten attitude. I crossed my arms, my gaze icy as I stood my ground. “Didn’t your new bride promise to handle all the housework? Let her do it!” Michelle must have overheard me, because she immediately appeared in the doorway, tears welling up in her eyes. She let out a pitiful sob and bolted for the kitchen, as if I’d just shattered her fragile world. Seeing this, Ryan instantly panicked. “Can’t you all just stop? I only let Michelle stay here temporarily to help her out! Emily, why do you have to act so jealous and petty? You’re the one I married, and we even have a child together! Do you really think I’d ever go back to her?” He paused, then added with a sneer, “If I couldn’t let her go, do you really think you’d be the one having my kid?” His words hit me like a slap in the face. My chest tightened, and I had to fight the sting of tears. “Fine,” I said, my voice trembling but firm. “Let her settle in as much as she wants. I’m leaving.” Ryan’s mom’s face twisted with fury. “You ungrateful brat! Michelle just moved in yesterday, and her son’s already calling me grandma. She even massaged my legs and shoulders to show her respect. And look at your daughter—what a mute little thing! She can’t even speak properly!” Her words nearly pushed me over the edge. My daughter was not mute. When she was little, Ryan’s mom had taken her out shopping and lost her. I searched for an entire day and night before finally finding her curled up, unconscious, in a filthy dumpster. The police later reviewed the security footage and discovered that my daughter had cleverly hidden there to escape a trafficker who had been trying to snatch her. The trauma left her unable to speak for months. Ryan’s mom had been wracked with guilt back then, spoiling my daughter endlessly to make up for what had happened. She even tore into the neighbor’s kid once for making a silly face at her. But now? Now she was willing to turn on us the moment some “new grandson” came along. I looked at Ryan and his mother, both radiating open disdain for me, and I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “Sure, sure,” I said. “Anyone who wants to play the doting grandparent or obedient child can go ahead. It’s got nothing to do with me.” Ryan, sensing that I was softening, tried a different approach. His voice dropped, sounding almost reasonable now. “Emily, think about this. If you take our daughter and go back to your parents’ house, people are going to start talking. They’ll say I’m abusive or cheating on you. Is that what you want? For your husband’s reputation to be ruined? Does that make you happy?” I stared at him, a cold smile curling at the edges of my lips. “Cheating? Ryan, weren’t you already doing that? Why pretend otherwise?” But I didn’t say it out loud. I knew his game too well. Every time I called Michelle what she really was—a mistress—Ryan and his mother would suddenly act like paragons of virtue, scolding me for being “petty” and “unreasonable.” Ryan sighed, pulling out his phone. A moment later, he transferred $10,000 into my account, his tone softening as he handed me his “apology.” “I shouldn’t have said those things earlier,” he said. “I got carried away. But isn’t this what you wanted? Some extra spending money? There, you’ve got it now. Be satisfied and don’t push your luck.” He frowned and added, “And tone down your jealousy, Emily. Next time, I won’t be so forgiving.” Ah, the classic Ryan move: insult me, then throw some money at me and expect everything to be fine. This was how he dealt with every argument—cut me down, then act like the bigger person once he’d tossed me a small bribe. For years, I let it slide. I told myself it wasn’t worth fighting over. But after we got married and had a child, his behavior only got worse, his disrespect more blatant. Now? Now I realized I should’ve stood my ground the first time he crossed the line. Because people like Ryan don’t change—they just keep testing how much you’re willing to tolerate. And I was finally done tolerating him.

Ignoring Ryan completely, I picked up my daughter and headed downstairs. But as I reached the door, Michelle appeared out of nowhere, blocking my path. She had somehow changed into a maid costume—yes, a literal maid costume—that hugged her curves in all the right places. She stood in front of me with a broom in hand, a smug look on her face as if she owned the house. The floor around her? Spotless. Naturally, Ryan’s mom was beyond impressed. She clapped her hands and beamed. “Now this is what a real woman looks like! Michelle is not only beautiful but hardworking too. Not like some people who don’t even know how to use a mop!” Michelle gave Ryan a shy, flirtatious smile and said softly, “Oh, I just have a little thing about cleanliness. I like to keep the house spotless, especially since I want the people I care about to feel happy and comfortable here.” I stared at her, completely unbothered, and shoved her to the side. “Move.” Because honestly, some people kneel so much, they forget how to stand up. Ryan’s mom’s face twisted with anger, her disapproval written all over her. “Emily! Look at Michelle—she’s been cleaning all morning, sweating her heart out to make your house look nice. You should be thanking her for helping you, not insulting her. Honestly, you’re a disgrace to women everywhere!” I snorted, unable to hold back a laugh. “Thank her? For what? She’s been living here rent-free, eating food she didn’t pay for, and now she wants a gold medal for sweeping the floor? Are you out of your mind, or do you just think I’ve lost mine?” The words were barely out of my mouth when Michelle’s big crocodile tears started to fall. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” she whimpered, her voice trembling as she looked at Ryan with watery eyes. “Ryan, maybe I should just leave. I don’t want to ruin your marriage or make your wife misunderstand me.” Ryan’s face immediately darkened, his anger bubbling to the surface. “That’s enough, Emily!” he roared. I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. “Enough? Are you kidding me? I didn’t invite her here to clean or play house! If she wants to leave, she knows where the door is!” Suddenly, Ryan’s father stormed into the room, snatched the broom out of Michelle’s hands, and threw it to the ground. “Enough with the yelling!” he bellowed. The room fell into an awkward silence, but the tension was suffocating. Michelle, Ryan, and Ryan’s mom stood in a neat little line, their expressions united in their disdain for me, the outsider. Funny, wasn’t it? From the moment Michelle showed up, Ryan’s mom had been throwing snide remarks my way. Ryan had been shouting at me as if I was the problem. And now that I raised my voice for once, that’s when my father-in-law decided to step in and play referee. When we got married, I didn’t ask for a dowry. I even brought a car and a house as part of my dowry. Back then, Ryan’s parents promised me that if their son ever mistreated me, they’d make sure to keep him in line. They told me to treat their home as my own, to do whatever made me happy. But looking at them now, their loyalty was clear. This wasn’t my family—it was theirs. I might as well have been a stranger in their perfect little picture. I let out a bitter laugh and turned to leave, intending to drop my daughter off somewhere safe before dealing with this circus. But before I could take another step, Michelle suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me, blocking my path once again. “Please, Emily,” she begged, her voice trembling. “Don’t blame Ryan or his mom. This is all my fault. If I wasn’t so desperate, I never would’ve come here. I’ll leave right now. I’ll take my son and sleep under a bridge if I have to. I don’t want to be the reason your family is falling apart.” Her words might have sounded self-sacrificing, but her body betrayed her. Instead of leaving, she stumbled to her feet and leaned into Ryan, practically collapsing into his arms. Ryan didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as if she were the most fragile thing in the world. “Emily,” he said, his voice dripping with disappointment, “I can’t believe you. Michelle and her son are only staying here temporarily. How can you, as a mother yourself, be so heartless? Do you really want to throw them out onto the streets? If you’re angry, take it out on me, not on a single mom who’s already been through so much!” Michelle, now nestled comfortably in Ryan’s embrace, tilted her head ever so slightly, just enough to give me a smug, triumphant smile. Ryan’s father chimed in, his tone exasperated. “All this arguing is ridiculous! It’s the first day in the new house, and you’re already making a scene. You’re going to scare away the good fortune!” I looked at the three of them—Michelle, Ryan, and my in-laws—all standing together like a united front. And I couldn’t help but wonder: if I hadn’t scratched off that $5 million lottery ticket, if I hadn’t brought this money into their lives, would they still have the nerve to act so smug, so self-satisfied? Would they still stand there, so confident and secure, as if the world owed them everything?

I gave my father-in-law my sweetest, most obedient smile and nodded. “You’re absolutely right, Dad. I don’t want to argue in front of the kids. But since there’s already a new ‘wife’ in the house, I think I’ll take my daughter and spend a few days with my family.” Michelle’s eyes lit up with satisfaction, though she quickly replaced her smug expression with a faux-concerned look. “Emily, you can’t leave! If you go, how will I ever manage to take care of Ryan all by myself?” Ryan frowned, clearly annoyed with me. “What kind of game are you playing now? Don’t you hear your kid’s stomach growling? Go make dinner instead of running off and trying to piss me off!” I rolled my eyes, picked up my daughter, and walked straight to the new car I had just bought. As I opened the door, Michelle turned to Ryan, feigning helplessness. “Ryan, what if she doesn’t come back? Emily loves you so much—how are you just letting her leave like this?” Ryan let out a cold laugh, brushing off her dramatics. “Don’t worry. She’ll come crawling back in less than three days. She’s got nowhere else to go, especially after cutting ties with her family for me.” I couldn’t help but scoff inwardly at how ridiculous he sounded. This was the same man who used to stay by my bedside for hours when I had the flu, worried sick about me. Now? He knew full well I might not even have a place to go, and yet he was standing here, willing to let me walk out the door just so he could keep his ex-girlfriend in the house. This wasn’t love. It was a test—a blatant, shameless test of how much humiliation I’d take before I finally broke. If I stayed, it wouldn’t stop here. Someday, they’d expect me to take care of the mistress, her child, and maybe even the baby she’d eventually have with Ryan. No thanks. When it comes to toxic men, the only solution is to run. I got my daughter settled in the passenger seat, grabbed my suitcase, and started loading it into the trunk. Michelle, of course, couldn’t resist one last jab as she stood in the doorway, pretending to care. “Emily, don’t take this too far. Just apologize to Ryan, and everything will go back to normal. Why embarrass yourself by running back to your parents?” Ryan stood next to her, arms crossed, looking smug. “Emily, think this through. If you grab that suitcase and leave now, you might not even be able to get into your parents’ house. You and the kid might end up wandering the streets. Don’t come crying to me when that happens.” I ignored both of them, not wasting a single word on their nonsense. Michelle, seeing my determined expression, smirked to herself and turned to go back inside, clearly pleased with how things were unfolding. I finished packing, climbed into the driver’s seat, and started the car. But just as I was about to pull out of the driveway, Ryan stepped in front of my car, slamming his hand on the window. His face was dark, his voice low and threatening. “Emily, if you leave now, don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’ll regret this.” I let out a cold laugh, slammed the door shut, and drove off, finally leaving him in my rearview mirror. A second later, I heard his phone buzz. Ryan glanced down at the screen, and his expression changed instantly. His eyes widened in panic as he ran toward my car, pounding on the window. “Emily! Wait! Where’s the lottery money? Which account did you transfer it to?”

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