Category: English

Naomi Sinclair and I grew up together at Willow Creek Orphanage. We knew each other, grew close, fell in love. Soon after she gave birth to our son, her birth parents found her. She became the only heiress to the Sinclair family name. Our son, from a young age, received an elite education and took on the Sinclair surname. Years later, when I handed Naomi the divorce papers, she looked a little impatient and asked why. I simply replied, “Because last night, the food I cooked went cold.” Content “Leave with nothing?” “Be sensible—there’s no way Aiden will go with you.” Naomi didn’t look up from her phone screen. Her company was about to go public. I had once been proud of all her accomplishments, but now, all I felt was a sense of brokenness. “I’ll give up custody of Aiden,” I said. “Before we married, all I had was that little house—the Starter Cottage. That’s all I want.” When I mentioned the tiny house we’d once shared, Naomi’s expression softened a bit. “Are you still upset that Dean Preston drove me home yesterday? He’s just a business associate.” Yeah, a business associate who knew she was married and still wouldn’t give up pursuing her. I said nothing, just looked at Naomi. I hadn’t had the chance to really look at her in a long time. She was immaculately dressed, her earrings studded with pink diamonds that probably cost more than a few months of our expenses back in the day. It only took a few years, and here we were, strangers. Seeing me shake my head, she looked irritated and asked why. I replied coolly, “Because last night, the food I cooked went cold.” Before Naomi had been reclaimed by the Sinclairs, I was a freelance writer with a passion for cooking. Naomi was working in finance, struggling on a low salary and barely having time to eat. I would pack meals for her and bring them to her office. She always said it was the best food she’d ever tasted. Then, Naomi got discovered by the Sinclair family. She kept their last name but insisted on staying married to me. I continued as usual, making her three meals a day. The first year, she told me she wanted to eat my cooking for the rest of her life. But only a few years later, she was coming home drunk, escorted by her admirers. I’d take her from another man’s arms, telling her to eat something to settle her stomach. Looking at the meal I’d made, she grimaced and said, “We have a chef here, so don’t bother making all this anymore.” “Why won’t you just go to the company? Are you really so idle every day?” I’d never had a knack for business and had no interest in the Sinclair empire. Aiden clung to her so much that he would only come down to eat when he heard her voice. When I handed him his food, he shook his head. I asked him why he wouldn’t eat, and Naomi snapped, saying I sounded too harsh. “He likes Western food. He’s tired of home-cooked meals, alright?” With her support, Aiden shoved the plate, sending hot soup and shattered porcelain splashing onto my arm. Naomi held him close, soothing him gently. Then she turned to me. “Just have the staff clean it up. I’m exhausted.”

I looked at Naomi’s confused gaze but felt no need to explain. In her eyes now, maybe the only things that mattered were the flow of millions of dollars. As for Aiden, he didn’t care much either. Raised in an elite world, he’d dreamed more than once of a “greater” father—a man who made waves in the business world, not a dad who liked being in the kitchen. In the daylight, Naomi noticed the burn on my arm from the night before. She called Aiden over. “Your dad hurt himself last night. Go give him some comfort.” Aiden was calm and collected at any public speaking event, but in front of me, he didn’t even try to hide his disdain. I’d grown up without a father and thought if I just loved my son enough, he’d love me back. But it turns out I don’t have that skill. Aiden just looked at me coldly, and except for a few babyish “daddy”s when he was little, I’d never heard him call me that again. “You don’t deserve to be my dad.” Naomi gently tapped his nose as if scolding him lightly. “The place on Greenfield Row is too old, and the paperwork will take a while. You’re welcome to stay here in the meantime,” she said. “Didn’t you love that cookware I gave you? It’s not like you can take it with you.” I’d packed everything I needed in a single suitcase the night before. “That cookware—if no one’s going to use it, just throw it away,” I said, then laughed. After all, the Sinclairs had chefs to handle everything. Without me, they wouldn’t even need a kitchen in that mansion, let alone high-end cookware. “Are you heading back to Greenfield Row?” “I can have Mr. Wills drive you,” she offered. I declined, looking at mother and son with a calm smile. “You both have a lot of allergies. Be sure to have the doctor test you again and give the chefs a list.” With that, I turned and walked out, without looking back at the two people I once loved most in the world.

I didn’t go back to Greenfield Row right away. Instead, I went to Willow Creek Orphanage, where I grew up. Naomi had wanted to visit with me, but the Sinclair family didn’t exactly consider it a place to show off, and the visit kept getting delayed. I had been sending part of my writing earnings to the orphanage over the years. As soon as I walked in, Ms. Ellery recognized me and greeted me warmly. She didn’t know yet that Naomi and I had divorced and pulled me into memories of our childhood. Naomi and I grew up here. She was a year younger than me, and we were both so small back then. Ms. Ellery pointed to the kitchen and laughed, saying I’d always been fascinated watching the cook. Naomi didn’t like garlic, but at Willow Creek, kids weren’t allowed to be picky. So, whenever I cooked, I’d leave the garlic out for her. Her reminiscing made me eager to cook. I accepted the offer to handle the kids’ lunch that day. As I chopped and cooked, a group of little ones crowded around, chattering excitedly. “Wow, you’re so cool, big brother! You can cook!” “It smells amazing! When I grow up, I’m going to be a chef, too! Ten stars!” Hearing their excitement reminded me of meeting Naomi’s parents for the first time. She’d been even more nervous than I was. When they found out I was a writer who loved to cook, if it hadn’t been for their upper-class manners and guilt over abandoning her, they would have practically shown me to the door. Her father simply remarked, “Useless skills, unfit for a man of worth.” Word spread fast in their circles. Naomi quickly gained plenty of new “friends.” Every guest who saw me cooking would chuckle and joke with her. “Your husband is rare—who’d think he could cook?” Dean Preston once frowned, asking, “Naomi, doesn’t the smell of cooking on him bother you? Is it hard to sleep at night?” After hearing that over and over, Naomi started to look uncomfortable about it. She didn’t want to embarrass me, though, and gently suggested, “When friends come over, maybe let the staff handle it.” “It’s not like the Sinclair family can’t afford a chef.” And soon, Aiden was picking up on all of it too. “My dad’s no ordinary cook. He’s supposed to be a hero.”

After a few days at Willow Creek, I went back to Greenfield Row. Everywhere I looked, there were memories I had to push down. When the Sinclairs took Naomi back, they insisted we leave everything behind; even our son’s things were replaced by theirs. Everything in that old house had stayed just as it was that day. I’d thought it was a stroke of luck, but it turned out to be the end of my dream. After clearing out everything that reminded me of Naomi, I went to sleep and didn’t wake up until noon. When I checked my phone, I saw a dozen missed calls—all from her. Just then, a new call came in from an unknown number. “Hello, is this Aiden Sinclair’s father?” the voice asked. “I’m Aiden’s teacher. He’s refusing to eat lunch, saying his dad usually packs it.” The voice paused, then continued politely, “Did you forget today was the start of the semester?” I frowned, not sure what game Aiden was playing. He attended one of the best schools, where they served well-balanced meals. More than once, he’d brought back the food I packed for him untouched. “Thank you, but he won’t be needing my lunches anymore. The family chef will handle his meals,” I said, then added, “I’m no longer Aiden’s father. Please contact his mother from now on.” Maybe the teacher had Aiden on speaker, because I heard someone yell, “Aiden, don’t run!” The teacher apologized and quickly hung up. I thought back to my own childhood—I hadn’t had one of these puzzling phases. Aiden, though, had always been pretty stable. His grandparents didn’t want him around me, so every summer, they’d take him away. And with each visit, he’d grow colder toward me. At first, he’d ask me: “Why do you always do servant’s work?” “Isn’t it a waste of your time?” “Other dads fly planes. Why do you stay home and cook?” Eventually, he stopped talking to me entirely, and I’d learn about his assignments through the parent group chats. The Sinclairs were more than happy to see him drifting away from me. I hung up and went to the mall. In the middle of comparing prices, Naomi’s call came through. “What did you say to Aiden? He’s refusing to eat.” “Can’t you come back? He still needs you.” Then I heard a low male voice suggest, “We can bring him to my new restaurant.” Naomi must’ve moved away from him because she continued, “That was just a colleague. Do you know where my allergy medicine is? The chef doesn’t know I’m allergic to carrots.” I could hear a slight plea in her voice. I sighed. “Naomi, if you can’t find it, buy it online or have the staff fetch it for you. It’ll be faster than waiting for my call.” “I asked you to have the doctor run allergy tests on both you and Aiden so we wouldn’t have this problem again.” After a pause, Naomi said, “Can you at least send your recipe? Grandpa misses your cooking.” “And Aiden’s project? I’m swamped with work.” I felt my resolve weaken at the mention of Grandpa Sinclair. He’d always been the only one in the family who fully supported me, and he truly loved my cooking. But I had no desire to get pulled back into their lives. “There are plenty of recipes online,” I replied. “Naomi, you know Aiden doesn’t consider me his father. It’s time I start my own life. Let’s each go our separate ways.”

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My Wife Swapped Our Baby to Inherit My Billion-Dollar Fortune My wife swapped our daughter with my brother-in-law’s daughter to ensure her family would inherit my billion-dollar fortune. I pretended not to know. I watched as my “niece” was mistreated and starved into a skeletal state at my brother-in-law’s house. Meanwhile, my “daughter” was raised by my wife to be rosy-cheeked, adorable, and blessed. On the day of my daughter’s coming-of-age ceremony, just after I had transferred company shares to her, my brother-in-law’s family burst in with my niece and a DNA test report. “The hospital mixed up the babies back then, brother-in-law. It’s time to switch them back!” Amid their triumphant gazes, I smiled through tears: “Sure.” “Zane! My water broke!” I was out of town closing a deal with a client when I received this message from my wife, Emily. The moment I saw those words, I immediately canceled all my upcoming tasks and replied: “Honey, I’m coming right away.” As I anxiously opened my phone to contact my assistant about available tickets, Emily sent another message. “Don’t worry, darling. No need to rush. My brother and sister-in-law are here. You focus on making money, and come back when you’re done. It’s fine.” I said okay, but the urge to return grew stronger by the minute. Just then, my assistant called. Her voice was full of apology. “Mr. Wilson, I’m so sorry. Due to the recent extreme weather, the airport is closed, and there are no train tickets available.” I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window of the hotel, not understanding why my heart was racing uncontrollably. But deep down, I had a feeling that I absolutely had to go back. “Sarah, what about a taxi? If I take a taxi back, how many hours would it take?” The assistant on the other end of the line paused for a moment, then responded professionally. “Mr. Wilson, if you take a ride-sharing service, it would take about six hours to get back.” I nodded in agreement and asked her to book one for me immediately. The taxi sped onto the highway through the heavy rain into the dark night. Even after getting in the car, that ominous feeling hadn’t dissipated. I could only ask the driver to go as fast as possible within the legal limits. On the way, I tried calling Emily, but there was no answer. Thinking it was probably because she was exhausted from giving birth, I rationalized that the bad feeling was probably just empathy for Emily’s pain during labor. At this point, I still thought I was in sync with Emily, and even wanted to give her a surprise, so I didn’t tell her I was coming. By the time I arrived at the hospital, it was already late at night. There weren’t many people around, just a few nurses dozing off here and there. I asked for Emily’s room number, and when I got there, I saw that she had indeed given birth and was sleeping, her face pale. Seeing her like that made my heart ache. I felt she had been through so much, and didn’t want to disturb her. Instead, I asked a nurse where the nursery was and headed there alone. There weren’t many people on the nursery floor at this hour. I remembered the number and walked to the door of one of the rooms. Just as my hand gripped the doorknob, I heard familiar voices whispering inside. “Honey, are we really going to do this?” I frowned as I listened carefully. It was the voice of my sister-in-law, Lily. If that was her husband, it must be Emily’s brother, Ryan. Sure enough, the next moment I heard my brother-in-law Ryan’s voice, with a hint of resolute determination. “Of course. We’ve come this far, do you want all our plans to go to waste?!” “But… but what if we get caught swapping the babies? And… that’s our daughter…” Lily’s voice was choked with sobs, clearly very reluctant. Ryan cursed her under his breath: “This is why women can’t get things done! Didn’t we agree to switch them from the start? This way, all of Zane Wilson’s money will belong to our family! Why are you crying now? Do you still want the money or not?!” “…I do,” Lily’s timid voice came after a while. Then the two of them opened the door to the inner sterilization room. They seemed about to come out, so I quickly retreated to the stairwell corner. I saw them sneak out, looking around cautiously before leaving. I stood there frozen, chilled to the bone. After a long while, I seemed to regain the warmth in my body. Then I also entered the nursery. After searching carefully, I found the incubator with Ryan and Lily’s names on it, separated by a few from the one with Emily’s and my names. Although the name on this incubator was Chloe Parker, the moment I saw the baby, I felt an instant connection. I immediately switched the babies back. As I was going downstairs, I passed by Emily’s room. She seemed to have woken up, and I could faintly hear her talking with Ryan and Lily. I stood to the side and eavesdropped. “Sis, I’ve switched the babies as you instructed.” I heard Ryan, barely able to contain his excitement. Then Emily’s weak voice came from the bed. “Thank you, Ryan. I promise I’ll take good care of your child and won’t let her suffer at all. Everything we’re doing now is so that we can ultimately get all of Zane’s assets.” Hearing this, I felt as if I had been struck by lightning. It was even more heartbreaking than discovering Ryan’s actions earlier. I had thought it was just Ryan and Lily’s malicious scheme, but now I discovered my own wife was involved. She was my partner, the person I shared my bed with! Then I heard very low sobbing from the room. “But… but I carried her for ten months, and now we’re just switching…” That was Lily, unable to part with her own flesh and blood. “What are you crying for?! She’s going to have a better life! Could we afford to raise her? Zane will raise her, she’ll get a better education and resources! What are you crying about?!” Ryan immediately scolded her. Lily could no longer hold back her tears and began to weep openly. “Lily, I understand. After all, it’s the child you carried. Anyone would be reluctant and heartbroken. But this is the only way now,” Emily sighed softly, seemingly holding Lily’s hand before continuing to comfort her. “When the child comes to our side, I can’t guarantee everything, but I can assure you she’ll want for nothing. In the future, no matter how well she does in school, even if she’s not very smart, it doesn’t matter. Zane will give her a good future. Can you provide that?” Lily sobbed and shook her head, finally giving in. “Alright, sis. We just came to let you know it’s done. You just gave birth, so get some rest,” Ryan’s voice came from inside. Seeing that the two were about to leave, I quickly hid in the nearby stairwell. The stairwell was dark. Outside, the heavy rain had just cleared, revealing a cold, round moon through the window. I looked at the moon, and tears suddenly fell. Emily and I met in college. Her family wasn’t well-off, and she worked part-time during university. I met her during a volunteer event. Back then, she was a shy girl who would politely greet me as “senior.” It was her shyness and the innocent look in her eyes when she looked up at me that made me start pursuing her. Dating during college was incredibly sweet. Emily came from a poor background, and I always felt sorry for her. So I took her to experience many things she had never experienced before. As for food and clothes, I never let her want for anything. She also seemed to love me very much, making me believe we would get married and spend our lives together. And we did get married. I proposed to her right after graduation, disregarding our difference in status and marrying her directly. I remember my family was against it at the time, saying there weren’t that many good girls in the world and warning me not to be deceived again. But they could see I really liked her, so in the end, they allowed the marriage. My married life with Emily seemed happy. I believed I treated her extremely well, but I didn’t notice that she was the first to change. After years of marriage, what I got in return wasn’t her love, but her scheme for my assets. And my brother-in-law, who could only afford to buy a house and get married because of me, would bow and scrape in front of me, but behind my back, he was plotting with Emily like this. No wonder I had that inexplicable urge to rush to the hospital. Fortunately, I made it back. I wanted to see what kind of trouble they could stir up! I didn’t go directly to Emily’s room that day. Instead, I found a place to stay near the hospital and only appeared before them the next day, pretending to be anxious. “Honey! How are you? I bought the earliest flight back, but I was still late!” I pushed open the door to the ward, my face deliberately showing signs of a hasty journey. Emily, seeing me arrive, immediately tried to sit up, smiling at me with an exhausted but happy expression. “Darling, you’re here?” “Brother-in-law is here!” “Brother-in-law.” Ryan and Lily, who were on another bed, seemed guilty and immediately stood up to greet me. Everyone was all smiles. “Lily, don’t move. You just gave birth a few days ago too, right? Don’t get up. Honey, how are you feeling now? It’s all my fault, I couldn’t get the fastest ticket back.” I sat by Emily’s bed, playing along with them, looking at Emily with apparent concern, but my heart was ice-cold. Because in this short interaction, I couldn’t detect any other intentions from them. Indeed, the Parker family were all actors, smiling tigers. “Brother-in-law, sister gave birth to an 8-pound little princess yesterday. Congratulations!” Ryan, seeing the situation, immediately chimed in with sweet words. “8 pounds? That’s quite heavy. It’s truly a joyous occasion,” I said, letting a hint of delight flash across my face, while coldly thinking to myself: If I had really come back this morning, I would have been completely fooled by you all. Just then, a nurse pushed in two babies. She placed each baby next to their mother’s bed before leaving. I hurriedly looked at the baby next to Emily. “Brother-in-law is so eager,” Ryan laughed, smoothing things over. Emily also smiled helplessly, seemingly amused by my boyish impatience. Everyone thought I was anxious to see my own daughter, but that wasn’t the case. After carefully examining the baby, I felt a weight lift from my heart. In my haste last night, I only had time to mark the baby’s leg with a dot using my pen as identification. Now I saw they hadn’t noticed anything amiss. The setup of the two cribs was vastly different. The one next to Emily was extremely luxurious, while the one on their side was quite simple. The cribs weren’t provided by the hospital. We had bought all the best baby products, both domestic and international, months in advance. Looking at the clearly hastily bought, makeshift crib on my sister-in-law’s side, I couldn’t help but ask with confusion: “Is using this crib…” “Oh, brother-in-law, our family is different from yours. We don’t need to use such good things for everything. This is good enough. I didn’t even have a crib when I was little,” Ryan waved his hand and laughed it off when he saw me asking. “You should still be careful with children’s things. They’re just born and have low immunity,” I only advised a couple of sentences. After all, it wasn’t my child. But I was grateful in my heart. If they had really switched the babies, my daughter would now be in a crib that was about to fall apart. I didn’t know how many hardships she would have to endure with them in the future. Looking at Emily, who was showering the baby beside her with love, I once again felt how heartless she was. How could she bear to give her own child to the other side, to that environment and those parents?! “Honey, why don’t you name her?” Emily looked up at me with a face full of happiness. I smiled back and responded: “Poppy Wilson.” After resting for a while longer, we were discharged from the hospital. Before parting, Ryan and Lily were reluctant to leave my daughter, with Lily on the verge of tears several times. “Brother-in-law, bring your niece to visit often.” “I will,” I responded outwardly, while inwardly sneering as I looked at their daughter, whom they couldn’t even be bothered to hold. You reap what you sow! I wanted to see exactly how they planned to get my assets by swapping the children! And I was even more eager to see their disappointed and devastated expressions when they found out their baby-swapping plan had failed!

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My sister was deceived by a married woman, losing both her money and her virtue, and ended up unexpectedly pregnant. She had no job and no savings. I advised her not to keep the baby, but she said she believed in God and absolutely couldn’t abort the child, or it would be sinful and affect her luck. Yet after the child was born, she dumped him on me to raise while she went off to see the world. I spent half my life struggling to raise my nephew until he went to college, then my sister came back! She told my nephew, “You don’t know, back then your aunt kept trying to convince me to abort you. Then after you were born, she hogged you all to herself… You’re the precious baby I gave birth to, how could I not love you?” My nephew hated me bitterly because of this. He got into a car accident. I desperately pushed him out of the way, and ended up being hit and thrown over 30 feet. As I lay dying, the dear nephew I had raised with such hardship cradled my broken body and sneered softly, “You almost prevented me from coming into this world, then kept me apart from my mom for so long, depriving me of maternal love since childhood! Your life and the compensation money can be your atonement!” A white light engulfed me, taking me back to the day my sister Diana knocked on my door, her belly just starting to show her pregnancy. I opened my eyes to find my sister Diana sitting in front of me, sobbing as she asked, “Sam, you’re all I have now. What do you think? Should I keep this baby or not?” I pulled a coin from my pocket and placed it in her hand. “Sis, don’t you believe in God? He’ll guide you to the right answer! Flip it!”

Diana stared at the coin in bewilderment, looking at me in disbelief. Based on her understanding of me, she expected that I would strongly advise her to terminate the pregnancy. But even if she insisted on keeping it, I would inevitably end up taking care of both her and the child. Once I became attached to the baby, she would exploit my guilt over initially suggesting an abortion to manipulate me into sacrificing everything for her. After all, this tactic had always worked for her in the past. Diana and I were only a year apart. Our parents passed away early, so we relied on relatives’ support and my scholarships to get by since middle school. I knew that education was the only way to change our fate, so except for part-time jobs on weekends and holidays, I devoted every minute to studying. Hard work pays off – I consistently ranked at the top of my class and won numerous scholarships. This money was even enough to cover our daily living expenses. But Diana was different. She loved reading romance novels and always fantasized about being the Mary Sue heroine in those stories. She focused all her attention on boys, only going to school to scout for potential “blue-chip stocks” among her male classmates who might be worth investing in for the long term. By the time college entrance exams rolled around, knowing her grades weren’t good enough for university and she could only get into a mediocre vocational school at best, her dreams of finding a campus “blue chip” were shattered. So she set her sights on “falling for a domineering CEO” and turned her attention to the real world instead. “Sam, with my grades, do you think there’s any point in continuing school? I feel like I might as well start working and save some money…” With core subject scores barely over 100 points combined, I judged from our living conditions at the time that there really wasn’t much point in her continuing her education. So I simply said “Okay,” not realizing I would pay a steep price for that one word for the rest of my life! When she couldn’t find a suitable job, she blamed me, saying if I had supported her continuing school, she would at least have a diploma. When she couldn’t find a suitable man, she also blamed me, saying if I had supported her continuing school, she wouldn’t be looked down upon by the guy’s family for her low education level… Out of guilt, I supported her through my work-study program in college. To save money, I didn’t even dare to date. Every holiday I worked multiple jobs like crazy, just so she could live a bit better while unemployed at home. It wasn’t until later that I found out she was using the money I worked so hard to earn, along with loans, to buy designer goods and create a fake rich girl persona to attract men… She had pulled this kind of stunt countless times since we were young – posing tricky questions to set me up, then using emotional blackmail when I fell for it. Unfortunately, in my past life, I valued our blood ties too much and willingly let her control me. But after I died, as my soul floated in the air, I saw that the car accident was actually orchestrated by her and her son. They gambled that I would certainly sacrifice my life for the nephew I had raised with my own hands. They took my compensation money and occupied my house… yet when they received my ashes, they immediately tossed the urn into the garbage. Everything from my past life flashed through my mind. The heartache and bone-deep hatred made me wish I could be reborn to tear them to pieces. Thankfully, heaven is just. My wish for rebirth came true.

“Sis, why aren’t you flipping it? Don’t you believe in God?” Seeing she still hadn’t reacted, I waved my hand in front of her face. She looked embarrassed and reluctantly picked up the coin, saying, “Fine then. God, please guide me – heads I keep it, tails I don’t!” The coin flew into the air and landed on the table. “It’s heads. God wants you to keep it! So go ahead and have the baby with confidence!” Diana used to work at a jewelry store and had an affair with her married boss. That sly old fox brainwashed her into becoming religious, then after she was hooked, he kept coming up with new religious items for her to buy and worship – bronze statues, jade figurines, all kinds of amulets… Not only did she spend all her wages, she often borrowed money from me too. I say “borrowed,” but I was used to her never paying me back. Now that she was pregnant, that man said his wife had found out and told Diana to move out of the apartment he had rented for her immediately. “But if I have the baby, neither of us will have anywhere to live.” Diana’s eyes greedily scanned the house I was currently living in, looking slightly pitiful as she spoke. This house was supposed to be the marital home for me and my boyfriend Kevin. In my past life, when Diana insisted on keeping the baby and had nowhere to go, she pulled out her usual emotional blackmail tactics to make me take her in. I was blind and foolish enough to agree, which led to a whole mess of trouble later on, ending in my untimely death. So this time, I had to nip it in the bud. “That’s easy to solve. Mom and Dad’s old house is still empty. What a coincidence – Aunt Zhang from next door called me the other day saying she opened a small convenience store and wants to hire someone to help run it. You can stay at the old house and help her mind the store. You’ll earn money while being able to rest during your pregnancy. After you give birth, if it’s a boy, won’t that jewelry store boss welcome you back home like a goddess?” Diana seemed to feel I was different from before. She looked at me with confusion in her eyes, but also seemed to think what I said made sense. To prevent her from overthinking it, I immediately called Aunt Zhang to finalize the arrangement. Now we just had to wait for Kevin to get off work and drive her back. “But I still feel…” Diana was still hesitating. I quickly cut her off, “Relax, don’t you think this is God’s will? His arrangements always have a reason. Everything happens for the best. You just need to go along with it…” After all, she used to brainwash me the same way in my past life. She caused chaos in my home with her pregnant belly, single-handedly ruining my relationship with Kevin’s family. In the end, Kevin and I were forced to break up and move out, but he left the house to me. She patted my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, God’s arrangements always have a reason. Everything happens for the best. He’s telling you Kevin isn’t right for you…” The night Kevin moved out, she immediately occupied my master bedroom, claiming the guest room was too uncomfortable for her big belly. This time, I absolutely would not allow such things to happen. I refuse to give up the man who loved me most in my past life, and the mother-in-law who treated me like her own daughter, for these two ungrateful wolves again.

After sending Diana back to the old house, I immediately dragged Kevin to get our marriage license. Kevin held the certificate, staring at me blankly. “Honey, pinch me. Am I dreaming?” This fool, in my past life after breaking up with me, actually stayed single and never remarried. When he heard the news of my death, unable to find my grave, he took the only coat of mine left at his place and made a simple memorial for me. He would talk to it at the “grave” every day. I had been holding back my emotions while Diana was here, afraid of giving myself away. Now that she was gone, I hugged Kevin and burst into tears. “It’s not you dreaming. I had a big dream, but thankfully I woke up.” I briefly told Kevin about my rebirth. At first, he didn’t quite believe it. I told him the company would send him on a business trip to Jiangzhou in a few days, and he must go no matter what. In my past life, Diana had only been living with us for a few days when Kevin’s mom came to visit. Diana went through our bedroom drawers while we were out and his mom caught her. They got into an argument. His mom held back since Diana was pregnant, but Diana kept pushing and ended up shoving her. His mom hit her head on the table corner… As a result, Kevin had to give up the business trip opportunity to another colleague to take care of his hospitalized mother. That colleague, who was inferior to Kevin in both seniority and ability, signed a multi-million dollar contract on the trip and got promoted upon return. He ended up suppressing Kevin at work for the next 20 years, leaving Kevin depressed and unfulfilled in his career. Sure enough, on the third day after his mother came to stay with us this time, Kevin received notice to go on the Jiangzhou business trip. This time, without Diana here, I got along great with his mom, so naturally there was nothing to interfere with his trip. Now Kevin fully believed my rebirth story. He had always listened to me when we were dating, and now he was even more attentive. To our surprise, just after we sent Kevin off to the airport, we saw Diana standing at our door with her luggage. “Sam! You’re finally back!” “Let me tell you, Aunt Zhang’s cooking is terrible. I’m used to your food!” “And you know what? Her convenience store opens at 9 am. You know I can’t get up that early as a pregnant woman!” “How can a pregnant woman live like that? It’s not right, is it…” She kept rambling non-stop as soon as she entered, until she saw the guest room – the one she used to stay in – now fully occupied with Kevin’s mom’s things. She finally closed her mouth and looked at me. “What’s this?” “Oh sis, I was going to call and tell you. Kevin and I got married! Mom has moved in to live with us!” I said with a smile, holding his mom’s hand. She was stunned for a moment. She had always brainwashed me, telling me that except for her, my in-laws were all outsiders, especially my future mother-in-law – getting close to her would make me miserable. Now that I had invited my mother-in-law to live with us, she looked at me with a “have you lost your mind” expression. Without even greeting Kevin’s mom, she pulled me into the bedroom to talk privately. “Seriously, Samantha? Did you completely ignore everything I told you? Didn’t I say Kevin’s mom is trouble? You even invited her to live here! Are you trying to get me killed?? And this house only has two bedrooms. If she’s staying here, where am I supposed to…” I made a “shh” gesture and pulled her to the bay window. I had set up a small altar there with a $5 jade Guanyin statue I bought online. “Sis, keep your voice down. Don’t disturb the Buddha…” “What’s this?” Diana looked confused again. No matter how she tried to brainwash me before, I always seemed immune to all that superstitious nonsense. I often advised her not to waste money on it. Now how had I suddenly become so devout? “Sis, you don’t know! Thanks to your faith, Buddha has blessed me too! He came to me in a dream and said Kevin is my true soulmate. He also said Kevin must live with his mother and be filial to receive blessings and success in his career.” “Guess what? I followed Buddha’s guidance and invited his mom to stay just a few days ago. Today Kevin was sent on a multi-million dollar project in Jiangzhou. If he closes the deal, not only is his promotion guaranteed, but there’s a big bonus too. We might even upgrade to a three-bedroom place soon…” “His mom is indeed difficult to please, but what can we do? She’s our money tree now. Even if you begged me, I wouldn’t want you to suffer her temper while pregnant.” “Besides, I heard the jewelry boss’s wife is looking for you everywhere. You listed my address when you applied for that job, right? What if she finds you here? All your efforts would be wasted.” “Stay at the old house a bit longer. I’ll bring you out when the time is right.” Hearing my grand promises, Diana’s previously dull eyes suddenly lit up with stars. Given how well she thought she could manipulate me, my husband getting rich was as good as her getting rich. When we came out of the bedroom, she looked at Kevin’s mom like she was the Queen Mother, bowing and scraping, calling her “Auntie” this and that. Now it was Kevin’s mom’s turn to look bewildered…

In reality, Kevin’s mom wasn’t difficult to please at all. She treated me better than my own mother. Thinking of how I had sided with Diana in my past life, disappointing her again and again… Yet even when Kevin wanted to leave me the house he had paid the down payment for after we broke up, she didn’t object. I felt so guilty and ashamed. After getting rid of Diana, I took my usually frugal mother-in-law on a shopping spree at the mall. “You two just got married. You’ll have plenty of expenses. Don’t waste money on me…” “Mom, don’t worry. Kevin and I are both getting promotions soon. Money won’t be an issue. But for the next year, we’ll need to go work in another city. Please help us take care of the house while we’re gone. Don’t let anyone in…” At this point, Kevin’s mom still hadn’t realized how awful Diana was. She only knew from our past interactions that I was a “sister enabler.” She had wanted to advise me through Kevin several times. Now seeing that I had woken up on my own, her eyes were full of relief. She assured us she would guard the house steadfastly while we were away. Soon, Kevin returned from his trip having successfully closed the deal as I predicted. The company wasted no time promoting and giving him a raise. The catch was a one-year training assignment at the Jiangzhou branch. This time, I didn’t hesitate to apply for a transfer to Jiangzhou with my company as well, so we could go together. Firstly, this way our relationship wouldn’t be affected by long distance. Secondly, it would help me avoid Diana’s frequent harassment during this time. Most importantly, I knew from my memories that the newly built industrial park in Jiangzhou would place a big order with our company branch in a few months due to production needs. In my past life, that order had fallen into the lap of a receptionist who happened to be filing her nails at the right time. This time, I prepared all the materials in advance and actively pitched to the procurement team at the industrial park before they even started looking for suppliers. I stayed in close contact with them and submitted my proposal to my company early. Opportunity favors the prepared. A few months later, I successfully landed that order as planned. A six-figure bonus was promptly deposited into my account. Of course, Diana hadn’t stopped bothering me during this time. I fended her off using God’s name each time. Aunt Zhang called me every few days, saying Diana was acting strange. She kept buying jade Buddha statues for the house, starving herself, and using all her wages on constant offerings, hoping God would bless her like He blessed me. A few months later, when she realized God hadn’t helped her at all and in fact made her life worse, she set all those jade Buddhas on fire in a rage! Knowing we had gone out of town and she couldn’t easily come find us with her big belly, Diana secretly went to our house. Who would have thought she’d open the door to find Kevin’s mom playing cards with his two aunts… Kevin’s mom is a smart woman – a retired executive from a state-owned enterprise who was known as an “iron lady” in her younger days. In my past life, she had voluntarily taken on the task of caring for Diana so I could focus on work, squeezing herself onto a tiny bed in less than 20 square feet by the entrance. Yet Diana kept coming up with new ways to make things difficult for her every day, trying to drive her away. To avoid making things awkward for me, Kevin’s mom kept putting up with it. This time, with my blessing, she went all out to fight back. Diana was no match for her at all and kept getting sent away defeated, unable to even set foot inside! A year later, Kevin’s training period ended. I also applied to return and compete for a leadership position in my department, based on my outstanding performance. Diana must have gotten wind of this somehow. She was already waiting at our doorstep with her three-month-old nephew when we arrived…

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Caleb Vaughn and I spent half our lives locked in a miserable marriage. Before the end, we glared at each other, hurling our most venomous curses, wishing to never meet again in another life. He hated me for tying him down with marriage and children, robbing him of his dream to move to Los Angeles and become a singer. I hated him for spending all his time partying while leaving his ailing parents and our two children solely in my care. And then, amid the resentment, we were reborn. Our eyes met across the crowd, and without hesitation, we turned and walked away in opposite directions. This time, I hope neither of us regrets it. Content The day I changed my college application, Dad walked into my room, glanced at my computer, and gave an approving nod. “Good. With grades like yours, you should go to a top university. Quit wasting your time running after that Vaughn kid. What’s so great about him anyway?” Mom, overhearing from the kitchen, rushed in and tugged Dad out of the room, giving him a sharp glare. I watched them leave, a bittersweet smile tugging at my lips before a sudden wave of sadness hit me. In my past life, I had run out late at night to the Willow Creek Train Depot to find Caleb. My parents, worried, went looking for me and were hit by a drunk truck driver. I never got to say goodbye. Swallowing my tears, I moved my mouse and pressed the confirm button on my application without hesitation.

In my past life, Caleb Vaughn, my childhood best friend, suddenly announced he wanted to become a singer and move to L.A. to chase his dreams. But before that, he had always said that staying together and attending the same college was his dream. For him, I threw away my near-perfect SAT score and applied to Greenfield Community College, the same small school he chose. But just two days before the acceptance letters arrived, he decided to leave for L.A. That night, Mrs. Eleanor Vaughn and Mr. Daniel Vaughn showed up at our door, begging me to find their son. I went. My parents, worried sick, followed and were killed in an accident. When I finally dragged Caleb back, his parents blamed him for my parents’ deaths and insisted he make amends by marrying me. So, I forced Caleb into an engagement. The plan was to marry after graduation, but by sophomore year, I was pregnant and had to drop out. The whirlwind of getting married, having a baby, and managing a household swallowed two years of my life. I was excited to return to school until Caleb’s parents fell ill and moved in with us. Caleb told me to be understanding. His parents had sacrificed so much for his education; now they needed care. He, of course, would be the breadwinner. I didn’t mention that his $1,500-a-month job barely covered formula and groceries. Eventually, I sold The Brooks Family Ranch to pay for his parents’ medical bills while raising two children. All the while, Caleb was out spending his measly salary on music equipment and partying with friends, claiming it was for his “dream.” When the burden of family life became unbearable, our arguments escalated. He accused me of being bitter and narrow-minded, blaming me for dragging him back from L.A. and ruining his shot at stardom. He even accused me of weaponizing my parents’ deaths to trap him into marriage. I hit back, calling him delusional for thinking his scratchy voice could ever make him a star. When he brought up my parents again, I snapped and lunged at him, only for him to shove me away violently. After that, Caleb started avoiding home altogether. His parents turned their frustrations on me, accusing me of being petty and difficult, conveniently forgetting how they had begged me to find their son. I worked myself to the bone doing odd jobs to keep the family afloat. But the children I raised with such effort still gravitated toward their father, who barely lifted a finger for them. I thought they’d understand one day, but that day never came. Even after they grew up and started their own families, they chose Caleb over me. “Mom, you were always too controlling. We’re done listening to you.” “Dad’s dreams were crushed because of you. He deserves another chance to go to L.A.” “Grandma and Grandpa were right. You just wanted to control everyone’s lives. You’re selfish!” Heartbroken, I went home only to find Caleb packing his bags with a smug grin, bragging about his “better future” now that he was leaving me behind. After devoting over two decades to this family, all I got was a label of being selfish and controlling. Why did Caleb get to walk away unscathed, hailed as the cool, understanding father? I snapped and shoved him. He grabbed a vase and swung it at me, snarling, “You dare lay a hand on me? I’ll kill you!” And that’s how we both died—mutual destruction. As I lay on the ground bleeding out, my last prayer was simple: If there’s another life, please, don’t let me meet Caleb Vaughn again.

I woke up on the day I was supposed to change my college application. Seeing my parents alive and well, I vowed to cut all ties with Caleb Vaughn. After the SATs, there were endless parties. At one of them, I spotted Caleb laughing with a group of friends nearby. “Did you hear Caleb Vaughn’s dropping out of school to go to L.A. and become a singer?” “Wow, he’s gonna be one of those L.A. Dreamers! We should get his autograph now before he’s famous.” “Leona, you and Caleb grew up together. Did you know he was planning this?” I felt a push from a friend, and my eyes locked with Caleb’s across the crowd. In that instant, I knew—Caleb had been reborn too. “I don’t know anything about it. I’ve got to go.” Without hesitation, I turned and walked away. If he wanted to go to L.A., fine. His life was no longer my concern.

As the day Caleb Vaughn planned to leave for Los Angeles drew closer, I sweet-talked my parents, saying I missed Grandma Mae and wanted to visit her to see the new ducklings on her farm. My parents, who always indulged me, packed up immediately without a second thought. Just as we were heading out, Mrs. Eleanor Vaughn opened her door and looked at us curiously. “Heading out?” she asked. My dad chuckled warmly. “The kid wants to visit her grandma. We’ll be gone for a few days.” Mrs. Vaughn smiled and nodded, her eyes trailing after us as we left. I kept my face neutral, though my fists clenched tightly in anger, nails digging into my palms. How foolish I had been in my previous life to think this woman genuinely cared for me. Only later did I realize her true intentions. She’d had her sights on our family home all along. After my parents passed in a tragic accident, she worked tirelessly to push me and Caleb into marriage, playing the role of the caring neighbor while manipulating the situation for her benefit. In those days, I was a grieving orphan, completely defenseless. Her sweet demeanor and constant care broke through my walls. And because I liked Caleb, I let myself be guided into the marriage. Little did I know, it had all been a calculated plan from the start. I exhaled slowly, suppressing the trembling born of anger. Smiling, I started talking to my parents about Grandma Mae’s new pony, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Caleb rushing by. He had likely realized I had also been reborn, forcing him to speed up his plans to leave. When we arrived at Grandma Mae’s, we sat down to a hearty dinner. The joy of being with my parents and grandma enveloped me, but then my mom’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, frowning. It was Mrs. Vaughn. “Caleb insists on going to Los Angeles to become a singer. He’s refusing to go to school, and now he’s threatening to leave no matter what. Daniel and I can’t convince him. Could Leona come back and talk to him? The two of them are so close—he’ll listen to her!” Mrs. Vaughn’s voice quivered with desperation. Her words mirrored those from my previous life. My mom looked at me, hesitant. Traveling back to Willow Creek at this time would be difficult. I placed my fork down calmly, took the phone, and replied. “Mrs. Vaughn, this is Caleb’s decision. I can’t interfere, and even if I tried, he’d only resent me for it. I think you should respect his choice.” Before she could respond, I hung up, swiftly blocking her number. My efficient actions left my parents stunned. Grandma Mae, ever wise, broke the silence. “Eat your dinner. Other people’s troubles are their own. We have no reason to get involved.” Her words resonated deeply with me. After dinner, I crouched in the yard, scratching our dog behind his ears while my parents approached hesitantly. “Leona,” my mom began, her tone cautious. “You’re different lately. What’s going on?” My dad, though silent, watched me with concern. Their worried faces made my chest tighten. I wiped at my eyes, surprised to feel the sting of tears. “Mom, Dad,” I said, my voice steady despite my emotions, “I had a dream.” I described it as a vivid nightmare, recounting every detail of my past life—the manipulation, the tragedies, and how I became a pawn in the Vaughns’ schemes. My dad’s face darkened as I spoke, his expression growing stormy with each word. When I explained how everything started with Caleb’s decision to leave and Mrs. Vaughn’s request, understanding dawned on their faces. “Sweetheart, you’ve been through so much,” my mom murmured, wrapping her arms around me protectively. Her tears wet my hair as she whispered reassurances. My dad, ever pragmatic, lit a cigarette and announced firmly, “That settles it. When we get back, we’re moving. We need to get as far away from the Vaughns as possible.” I hadn’t expected such unwavering support. Overcome with gratitude, I nodded, tears spilling freely. Hugging my mom tighter, I soaked in her warmth. We stayed at Grandma Mae’s for two blissful weeks. I got a bit of a tan from working outdoors, and when we returned, she sent us home with a carload of fresh produce. Before we moved, we spent a few more days in our old house. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, Mrs. Vaughn appeared, her tear-streaked face contorted with a mix of desperation and anger.

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A flash flood struck suddenly. My wife, Saylor, spent a fortune to have her first love rescued, leaving me alone in the car to await death hopelessly. After I managed to escape death, Saylor tearfully told me she felt indebted to me, but then turned around and held a wedding ceremony with her first love. On the day they were happily conducting their wedding ceremony, I invited Charlie’s wife, who had been dead for three years, to the scene. … As the nurse was changing my bandages, a news report on the TV caught my attention. The headline read: “Woman spends entire fortune searching for husband for days, couple now happily reunited.” Below, netizens were praising the depth of their marital love. They even hailed her as “America’s Best Wife.” The young nurse beside me looked envious: “Her husband is so lucky to have such a good wife.” “I heard she spent over a million dollars just to hire a private rescue team. They’re even staying in the VIP ward of our hospital now.” Listening to the nurse’s words, I curled my lips in self-mockery. She was indeed a good wife, good enough to spare no expense to rescue Charlie when the flash flood hit. Leaving me alone trapped in the car, waiting to die. Just then, my phone rang. It was a call from Saylor. After I answered, her anxious voice came through, “Ezra, didn’t I tell you to wait for me where you were? Where are you now?” I remained silent. She explained nervously: “The situation was urgent at the time, and there was limited space on the rescue boat. I could only get Charlie out first. I went back to look for you later.” I was too tired to listen anymore and interrupted her directly: “If that’s the case, you should stay with Charlie. Let’s get a divorce.” With that, I hung up the phone. But the next second, my phone rang again. I knew it was Saylor. I didn’t answer and put the phone on silent. She kept sending me messages: “I didn’t mean to leave you behind, please don’t be angry, okay?” “Where are you? I’ll come find you right now.” After some thought, I still sent her my hospital room number. Saylor replied instantly, “Wait for me for half an hour, I’m coming to see you right away.” But I waited until dark and still didn’t see her. Instead, I saw Charlie’s new Instagram post: “So blessed to have someone by my side 24/7.” The photo showed Saylor bending over to make his bed. I immediately deleted Charlie and blocked Saylor along with him. After turning off my phone, I covered myself with the blanket and fell into a deep sleep. The next day, the caregiver I hired was pushing me to get a check-up. Unexpectedly, we ran into Saylor pushing a wheelchair in the hallway. She was crouching down, gently covering Charlie’s legs with a blanket. When their eyes met, they looked so affectionate, like the perfect loving couple in others’ eyes. Even the caregiver behind me couldn’t help but sigh: “Isn’t that the national wife from the news? They really do look so in love.” Saylor heard the praise and looked up with a smile. But when her eyes met mine, her expression froze in place. “Ezra, why are you here?”

I tugged at the corner of my mouth, unable to hold back my sarcasm. “Why am I here? Don’t you know?” She frowned, looking at me with displeasure, “I had something come up yesterday and couldn’t come see you. Do you have to be so sarcastic?” “I’ve been worried sick about your safety. I see you’re fine and even have the energy to fight with me.” Listening to her complaints, I felt sick to my stomach. Not wanting to argue further, I urged the caregiver to push me away. Unexpectedly, several medical staff rushed out of the elevator behind us, pushing a rescue cart. “Make way!” the lead doctor shouted in our direction. Seeing the rescue cart about to crash into us, Saylor instinctively pushed Charlie’s wheelchair away. With a bang, I was hit hard and fell to the ground awkwardly. A sharp pain from my wound tearing open made me inhale sharply, furrowing my brow. Seeing this, Saylor ran over to help me up, her tone tinged with impatience. “If you’re injured, don’t run around. Just stay in your room and rest properly.” “I’ll take Charlie for his check-up first, then come see you later.” I forcefully pushed her hand away, saying coldly: “No need.” “Ezra, that’s enough. You got hurt running around on your own, why are you taking it out on others?” Saylor complained unhappily, simply standing up. She left me sitting on the ground and walked away without looking back, pushing Charlie. In the end, it was the caregiver who carefully helped me up and took me back to my room. I thought Saylor saying she’d see me later was just giving herself an out. I didn’t expect her to actually come. She was carrying several takeout boxes with cold food inside, her tone full of concern. “You’ve always been picky about food. I figured the hospital meals wouldn’t suit your taste.” “I specially ordered this dinner from a five-star restaurant. Come try it quick.” I glanced at the takeout bag where the delivery slip hadn’t been removed. The address column showed Charlie’s room number. The note even said flirtatiously: [Wishing the invincible handsome Charlie a speedy recovery!] So, she was trying to please me with the leftovers Charlie didn’t eat? Fighting the nausea in my stomach, I brought up divorce again. Saylor paused briefly, then sneered: “Ezra, when will you be done with this? You’re not young anymore, always talking about divorce. Don’t forget, you were the one who begged me to marry you.” With that, she stormed out. Hearing the door slam shut, I remained unmoved. Back then, I truly loved Saylor. To pursue her, I gave up a high-paying job and moved to her city. To make her happy, I learned to cook well. After she agreed to marry me, I silently vowed to treat her well for life. But what about her? To take care of her deceased best friend’s husband, she abandoned me again and again, trampling on my true feelings. This time, I won’t forgive her, nor will I look back. I contacted a lawyer to draft divorce papers. Then I opened our joint bank account, intending to transfer out my father’s death benefits. But I found that all the money in the account had been withdrawn. My heart sank as I recalled the news saying Saylor had spent millions to rescue Charlie. So, she used this money?

With trembling hands, I called Saylor. But the line was always busy. I guess she had blocked me. So I didn’t bother with my injuries and went straight to Charlie’s hospital room. Through the glass window, I saw Saylor sitting by Charlie’s bedside. She was tenderly peeling an apple, then feeding the cut pieces to Charlie. This gentle, soft-spoken image reminded me of when I was hospitalized before. Saylor said she had never taken care of anyone and wouldn’t even help wipe my face with a towel, instead scolding me for not being considerate of her. Lost in thought, Charlie noticed me standing at the door. “Are you here to see Saylor?” “I’m so sorry, Saylor is only here because she feels bad for me being all alone. You’re not angry, are you?” I ignored the provocation in Charlie’s eyes and walked in with a cold face, asking Saylor directly: “You withdrew the $3 million from our account. Why didn’t you tell me?” Saylor paused, turning her head in displeasure, speaking as if it was perfectly reasonable. “It was a matter of life and death. There was no time to discuss it.” “That money was just sitting there anyway. Might as well use it for something meaningful!” I laughed bitterly, my eyes gradually reddening. Six months ago, Saylor was caught in a mall fire. Because the fire was too intense, firefighters couldn’t enter. It was my dad who disregarded his own safety and carried the unconscious Saylor out of the fire. He himself died from his severe injuries. On his deathbed, he was still concerned about Saylor’s condition. This money was the government’s special compensation to honor him as a retired firefighter who died saving others. At the time, Saylor cried in my arms, saying she would definitely use this money to buy a high-end cemetery plot for my dad to rest in peace. Now, how could she have the nerve to say such things? Seeing her casually wetting a towel, preparing to wipe Charlie’s face, I felt like I had been blind. Just as I was about to leave, she called out to me again. “The day after tomorrow is your dad’s death anniversary. I won’t be going. I’m planning to hold a wedding ceremony with Charlie that day.” I turned back to look at her in surprise, my voice filled with disbelief. “What did you say?” Nominally, we weren’t divorced yet, but she was going to openly hold a wedding? And on my dad’s death anniversary no less! Saylor didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with it. She glanced at me impatiently and continued: “Charlie has always wanted to have his own wedding ceremony. But as you know, when he and Rachel got their marriage license, Rachel passed away before they could hold the ceremony.” “So now, I want to help him fulfill this wish in Rachel’s place.” I stared at Saylor for a long while before nodding: “Do whatever you want!” Seeing me agree so readily, Saylor’s eyes lit up with joy. She came over to hold my arm. “Ezra, I knew you’d understand me best.” “Don’t worry, this is just a fake wedding ceremony, going through the motions. You’ll always be the one I love most!” I stepped back to avoid her outstretched hand, leaving the hospital room without looking back. The next day, I completed the discharge procedures, preparing to go to the cemetery to pay respects to my parents. But just as I got into a taxi, I received a phone call. “Is this Ezra? This is Rachel, Saylor’s best friend. Do you remember me?” I held the phone in a daze, my mind going blank. Rachel, who was declared dead three years ago? She’s still alive?

She didn’t notice my shock and continued urgently: “I can’t reach Charlie or Saylor’s phones. Luckily I was able to contact you…” That’s when I learned that Rachel had fallen off a cliff back then but was rescued by kind strangers and sent to a local hospital. She had been in a coma for three whole years, nearly going into cardiac arrest several times. Now, after great difficulty finding her way back, she discovered Charlie had moved and his phone number was disconnected. I really didn’t know how to explain the situation to her, so I could only verbally agree to help her contact Charlie. After hanging up, I still couldn’t believe it. It took me a while to open WeChat, intending to message Saylor and tell her about Rachel’s return. But I received an alert from the pet monitoring app. I opened the live feed from the camera in my house. I saw my ragdoll cat hanging by a rope in the middle of the living room, its limbs twitching and struggling. Charlie stood in the center of the living room, clutching his arm with a pitiful expression. He seemed to notice the camera lens turning slightly and deliberately said: “Saylor, I think it’s dead. What should we do? Won’t Ezra be mad at you when he gets back?” Saylor was carefully bandaging his arm in front of him, not even looking up. “As long as you’re okay. This ungrateful beast might as well die early.” My hand holding the phone trembled. I quickly told the driver to turn back home, hoping I could still save it in time. But I was still a step too late. Little Love’s cold body lay on the floor. Its once neatly groomed white fur was now disheveled, splattered with blood. Even its hind legs were bent backwards unnaturally. I reached out with trembling hands, not daring to imagine what kind of torture Little Love had endured on my way back. Just then, Saylor’s indifferent voice came from behind. “I know you loved Little Love, but it bit someone. Even if it hadn’t died, I would have sent it away.” I turned around with red eyes to see her walking out of the next room wearing a pure white wedding dress. Seeing I didn’t speak, she came over to comfort me. “If you really want to keep a cat, I’ll go with you to buy another one another day.” I just shook my head, “No need.” With that, I carried Little Love’s body outside and buried it in the garden. Just as I finished, I received a text from Saylor. “Wedding ceremony tomorrow, remember to be on time.” After a long while, I emotionlessly replied “Okay.” When I arrived at the Starlight Hotel, the wedding was already underway. Seeing me appear, Saylor’s friends started teasing. “Ezra is here too! As the witness, you have to say a few words!” I knew they wanted to see me make a fool of myself. I didn’t refuse. Looking up at the sweet-faced couple on stage, I calmly walked up. Under everyone’s gaze, I curled my lips slightly. “As Saylor’s husband, when I learned she wanted to fulfill Charlie’s wish of holding a wedding ceremony, I was very touched.” “So today, I’ve also specially prepared a surprise for them.” As I finished speaking, Charlie looked at me smugly. While the smile on Saylor’s face grew even brighter. I took a deep breath and said loudly: “Next, let’s welcome Charlie’s wife, Rachel, to the stage!”

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Two speedboats collided, and I was left half-conscious, drowning in the open water. I was rushed to Riverside Memorial Hospital, where my wife, Serena Caldwell, worked. Instead of saving me, Serena chose to focus her efforts on operating on her high school ex-boyfriend, who suffered a broken leg in a car accident. She signed the Cremation Authorization Form, effectively sealing my fate. While I was being transported to Westbridge Funeral Home, she led her ex-boyfriend into the very emergency room meant for me. Content Chapter “Dr. Caldwell! This patient was in a boating accident near the coast. He can’t swim and was already unconscious when rescued. He needs immediate medical attention!” Through the fog of my fading consciousness, I felt someone pry open my eyelids. Seconds later, I recognized the cold, clinical voice of my wife, Serena Caldwell. “He’s brain dead. His body is deteriorating rapidly. There’s no point in continuing resuscitation.” “All of you, assist outside. A multi-car pileup just brought in a wave of trauma patients.” Brain dead? Deteriorating? I could still hear them. I was conscious! Recognizing the familiar scent of her perfume, I summoned every ounce of strength I had and curled my finger around the fabric of her scrubs. Serena, save me! She immediately grabbed my hand, her touch momentarily giving me hope. But then, she shoved my hand back onto the bed. She knows I’m conscious! Before I could rejoice, her heels clicked as she stepped away. I heard her instruct the team: “Prepare the OR. I’ll operate on Nathan Cross, the pileup victim with the fractured femur.” Her words sent a chill through me. Nathan Cross—her high school sweetheart. They’d dated in the past, breaking up before college but staying “just friends.” I had trusted Serena when she said she loved me, that she wanted to build a life together. But now, she had just declared me brain dead—so she could save Nathan instead. “Dr. Caldwell,” someone interjected, “According to protocol, we’re required to attempt resuscitation on all emergency arrivals. We also need consent from the patient’s family before discontinuing care. If his family challenges this later, the hospital could face serious consequences—” “Bring me the forms,” Serena cut him off. “I’m his wife. I am his family.” As I heard the swift scratching of pen on paper, alarms from a nearby monitor blared. Minutes later, I heard Serena’s detached voice. “Patient Ethan Clarke. Time of death: September 17, 2024, 1:54 PM. Jamie, draft the death certificate immediately.” “Yes, Dr. Caldwell.” It was absurd. I was alive! How could she declare me dead? Something was wrong. The faint movement I had managed earlier was now gone—I couldn’t move at all. What did Serena do to me? “Hello, Westbridge Funeral Home? My husband just passed. I’d like to arrange a cremation. The death certificate? Yes, I have it…” Her next words shattered my soul. Not only did she abandon me—she wanted to cremate me. When the death certificate arrived, Serena turned to someone nearby. “Give me two minutes to say goodbye to my husband.” I heard footsteps recede. Then Serena leaned close, her breath brushing my ear. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I can’t let Nathan lose his chance to walk again… I’m sorry…” Her voice faded as I slipped further into the abyss. Faintly, I felt hands lifting my body and placing me into a vehicle. “This guy isn’t stiff yet. We’ll keep him in cold storage until the wife finalizes the paperwork.” “Man, he looks young. What a waste.” Their conversation was the last thing I heard before I blacked out. Chapter

When I regained consciousness, I was freezing. The cold seeped into my bones as if I were lying in the snow, with icy winds cutting through me. My shallow breaths echoed faintly in what I now realized was a small, dark space. The air felt stale, and my own breathing was nearly imperceptible. They’d put me in a cold storage unit—a precursor to the cremation chamber. No one knew I was alive. I was trapped in an endless cycle of despair: either freeze to death here or get incinerated while still conscious. I hated Serena Caldwell. I hated her for abandoning me when she could have saved me. Why? Why would she choose him over me? I heard voices approaching, breaking the oppressive silence. The sound of a cabinet door creaking open startled me, followed by the sensation of being lifted. They moved me onto a gurney. “She’s that big-shot surgeon at Riverside, right? So busy her husband dies, and she doesn’t even show up?” “Yeah, someone sent over the death certificate. Time to prep for cremation.” Their casual conversation chilled me further. “Hold on!” A new voice interrupted. Moments later, I felt my gurney shift to the side as more people crowded into the elevator. As the elevator ascended, something brushed against my hand—fabric, different from my clothing. Someone was standing close to me. This was my last chance to signal that I was alive. I summoned every ounce of focus and willed my fingers to curl. Slowly, painstakingly, I managed to clutch the fabric. Ding. The elevator doors opened. “Holy crap! He’s grabbing my clothes!” “Look at his hand, man! He’s not dead!” Desperate, I tugged again, mustering whatever strength I had left. “He’s alive! Call emergency now!” The commotion faded as darkness engulfed me once more. When I woke up again, I was in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines and tubes. Voices echoed from the room’s entrance. “…The patient didn’t show fixed pupils—how did she sign a death certificate?” “Standard protocol requires resuscitation for drowning cases unless the heart completely stops. No one even tried chest compressions!” “A patient declared dead by Riverside somehow revives at Westbridge. What’s going on here?” The voice I recognized as Dr. Logan Mitchell cut in. “This was Dr. Caldwell’s husband. She personally declared him brain dead and signed the DNR form.” “Where is Dr. Caldwell?” someone demanded. “She’s performing surgery on a car accident victim… hasn’t come out yet.” Hearing this, my chest tightened, and tears pricked my eyes. Serena had been inches from me and still chose to save Nathan over me. The tension overwhelmed me. I gasped, unable to breathe. Machines blared with alarms. My vision blurred as the door swung open. Chapter

“The patient has developed cerebral edema. The swelling is compressing his nerves and affecting his breathing—we need to operate immediately!” “Get Dr. Caldwell in here for the neurosurgery. I’ll handle her external surgical cases,” said Dr. Logan Mitchell, urgency clear in his voice. A nurse sprinted out of the room to fetch Serena. Minutes later, hurried footsteps returned. “Dr. Mitchell, Dr. Caldwell said her husband is beyond saving. She insists on staying with her current patient because, in her words, she has to prioritize the living. She also said…” the nurse trailed off, hesitating. “Spit it out!” “She said if you insist on operating on her husband, you’re free to do so. She’s already signed the consent to discontinue care. And… she won’t hold it against you if your skills aren’t up to par.” Even though I already knew, deep down, that Serena valued Nathan Cross more than me, hearing her indifference from someone else stung. Serena was a top neurosurgeon. If she chose to perform my operation herself, my chances of survival—and avoiding severe complications—would significantly improve. But she wouldn’t. Maybe that’s the difference between love and indifference. All I could do now was hope I would survive this… “Prep the OR. I’ll do the surgery myself,” Dr. Mitchell declared firmly. I was wheeled into the operating room shortly after. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I heard the faint sound of a scalpel slicing through my scalp, followed by the rhythmic beeping of monitors and the frantic voices of the surgical team. The longer the operation went on, the colder I felt, like a fragile paper boat struggling against the stormy waves of a vast ocean. My body grew heavier with each passing moment. “Contact the blood bank! We need more units—stat!” “Cardiac arrest! Get the crash cart over here!” Amid the chaos, a voice cut through the noise, steady and resolute. “Stay with us. Don’t give up…” Those words were like an anchor, tethering my fading consciousness. I can’t die. I won’t die. I have to live! How long I fought, I couldn’t say. Eventually, my awareness dissolved into darkness. As I succumbed to the void, a single thought crossed my mind: Would I ever open my eyes to the world again? I hoped so. When I finally woke up, three days had passed. Like before, I couldn’t move or open my eyes, but I could hear the faint beeping of monitors and the hum of medical equipment. I was alive. The realization sent a surge of emotion through me. I had made it through another trial. The sound of a cart being wheeled into the room interrupted my thoughts. Two nurses came in, performing their routine checks and adjusting my IV. One of them tugged the blanket over me and sighed. “Dr. Caldwell’s husband still hasn’t woken up. If she hadn’t misjudged him, he wouldn’t be in this condition. Poor guy…” “He’s lucky to be alive at all,” the other nurse replied. “You know who really got the short end of the stick? Dr. Mitchell. He saved this man and still got suspended because of her complaint. Who knows what else might happen to him?” “I heard reporters are coming in to cover the car pileup and the boating accident. Dr. Mitchell’s suspension means all the attention will go to Dr. Caldwell—” “Shh! Someone’s here.” The nurses fell silent as the door swung open. “Dr. Caldwell!” “I’m just here to check on my husband. Is there anything you need my help with?” Serena’s voice was cool and composed. “N-no, not at all. We’ll check on the other patients,” one nurse stammered before both scurried out. Serena approached my bed. I had no idea what she planned to do, but her presence filled me with dread. Leaning over, she pried open one of my eyelids, then chuckled softly. I felt a wave of unease as she stepped back and pulled out her phone. “Hi, sweetheart. Ethan had the surgery, but his luck ran out—he’s a vegetable now.” Her voice was light, almost amused. “No, don’t worry. I don’t have to get my hands dirty. We’ll still get all of his money. Once everything’s settled, we can finally take that trip abroad…” Her sweet, almost tender tone didn’t match the venomous words she spoke. Serena whispered into the phone as she left the room, her heels clicking against the tile floor. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. She called someone else “sweetheart.” She was plotting my death. She wanted my money?! Chapter

Clang— The door to my hospital room closed, and Serena Caldwell’s footsteps echoed down the hallway until they disappeared entirely. My mind was a whirlwind of disbelief. I couldn’t reconcile the sweet, caring woman I’d married with the person I had just overheard. We’d met two years ago through mutual friends, bonded over our shared love of hiking, and quickly married. Though she had always been a bit distant due to her workaholic nature, she’d shown me moments of tenderness that I cherished. She’d cook me dinner whenever I returned from a business trip and bring me coffee late at night when I was buried in work, urging me to take better care of myself. I still vividly remember the moment I decided I wanted to marry her—just three months into our relationship. But it wasn’t me who proposed. Serena surprised me by dropping to one knee with a ring. She said she felt sorry that I’d lost my parents in high school and spent so much of my life alone. She wanted to give me a home. Back then, her words filled me with warmth, her actions proof of her devotion. But now, lying helpless in this hospital bed, trapped in a body that refused to obey, the truth stared me in the face. She’d never loved me. It was all a scheme. Her kindness, her affection—they were calculated moves to get her hands on the hefty life insurance payout my parents had left me. The love I thought we had was a lie, a con. And I had fallen for it—completely. My heart burned with equal parts rage and despair. Worse yet, her phone call had made it clear she was done waiting. Serena was ready to take the final step to claim my money—my life. I was a vegetable, completely at her mercy. If she wanted me dead, she could easily finish the job right here in the hospital. I couldn’t fight back. I couldn’t run. I could only wait. Wait for a miracle to pull me out of this nightmare. Time passed, and slowly, I began to notice faint signs of improvement. A twitch of a finger here, a subtle jerk of my leg there. The first time a nurse saw me move, she rushed to fetch a doctor. But his verdict dashed any hope: “It’s just a nerve reflex. Nothing to indicate recovery.” But I knew better. I could feel it. The heavy weight trapping my body was lifting—little by little. One day, after the doctor finished his rounds, commotion erupted in the hallway outside my room. Moments later, a group of people filed into my room. Among them was a reporter with a cheerful, melodic voice. “Dr. Caldwell, I understand that in addition to the multi-car pileup, there was a boating accident in the city that day. The victim of that accident… was your husband, correct?” “Yes,” Serena replied, her voice tinged with the perfect amount of sorrow. “My husband runs an advertising agency. That day, his company was organizing a speedboat promotion event. Unfortunately, there was an accident…” Her voice broke slightly, as if she were holding back tears. “Although the emergency team worked tirelessly, he was underwater for too long. He survived but is now in a vegetative state.” “Dr. Caldwell, this must have been devastating for you,” the reporter continued. “And on the same day you were leading the rescue efforts for the car crash victims, no less. The pressure must have been overwhelming.” Serena cleared her throat and let out a dramatic sigh. “We’ve only been married for two years. I never imagined I’d see my husband like this. Of course, it’s been hard. I wish I could take his place…” Her words dripped with faux sincerity, and I felt sick listening to her performance. My body, sensing my boiling anger, responded with sudden, jerking movements. Beep. Beep. Beep. The machines hooked to me sounded their alarms, sending the reporter into a panic. “Dr. Caldwell! What’s happening to him?!” “Nurse, help me!” Serena shouted, rushing to press down on my thrashing body. The nurse quickly checked the monitors and gasped. “Dr. Caldwell, his heart rate is spiking, and his blood pressure is dropping fast!” “Prepare for emergency resuscitation!” Serena barked, pulling the privacy curtain to block the view of the reporters. She knelt on the bed beside me and began performing CPR. Each compression felt like a boulder crushing my chest. I couldn’t breathe and was on the verge of blacking out. “Patient has gone into cardiac arrest…” someone muttered as the equipment was disconnected from my body. I heard Serena’s voice break as she sobbed over me. “Ethan…” Tears streamed down her face as she called my name again, her cries echoing through the room. “Dr. Caldwell, we’re so sorry for your loss. He wouldn’t want you to dwell on this,” one of the reporters tried to console her. “Exactly. Sometimes death is the kinder fate,” another chimed in. Serena wiped her tears and sniffled. “My husband loved life deeply. He even signed a body donation agreement. I’ll honor his wishes by giving his life a new purpose.” The reporter burst into tears, overwhelmed by Serena’s supposed selflessness. “Dr. Caldwell, you and your husband are true heroes. I’ll make sure your story reaches everyone—people deserve to know about your sacrifice.” Their words only added fuel to the fire inside me. This vile woman wasn’t just plotting my death and taking my money—she was using me to make herself famous. But my rage couldn’t move my body. I was still trapped. Still helpless. Until, in my fury, I felt it—a fist. My fist. Clenched tight. I could move. A surge of adrenaline shot through me. Summoning every ounce of strength, I forced my eyes open and sat upright. Serena’s horrified expression was priceless.

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The sixth time my husband mixed the used cooking oil with my homemade lard, I lost my temper. My son disapproved, “Mom, why are you so emotionally unstable? Dad just mixed up the oils.” When he asked to go to school during his vacation for the umpteenth time, I told him he didn’t care about family. My son complained that I was unsympathetic, “Dad’s earning money for the family, he must have his reasons.” Later, my husband became a renowned author and was interviewed for a documentary. After filming all the footage, the director casually interviewed me and asked about my wishes. I thought for a moment and said, “I hope I could live my life over again.” After the interview, the director said goodbye. I sat in the rocking chair, feeling lost. After a while, I found the divorce agreement hidden in the bottom drawer and placed it in front of James Quinn. James fiddled with the wooden carving in his hand, not even looking up. “What’s this?” “Can’t you see I’m busy?” “I’m going to school later, and I won’t be back for dinner.” I instantly lost the desire to communicate with him. I put on my coat, ready to pick up our son one last time. After picking up the child, I should leave. The school gate was bustling with activity. I stood there for a long time but didn’t see my son. Anxiously, I took out my phone and called his homeroom teacher. “Ryan? I saw him leave school alone quite early. Didn’t you see him?” I thanked the teacher and started searching along the small path next to the school. He used to walk this path when he was upset. At the end of the path was our secret hideout. Seeing Ryan there, I breathed a sigh of relief, but tensed up again the next second. An unfamiliar voice came from the bushes beside him. “This place is really nice, Ryan. Thank you for bringing me here.” My son’s voice was cheerful: “I’m glad you like it, Aunt Sophia. Next time if my dad upsets you again, I’ll bring you here.” The sound of their playful laughter seemed fitting for the scene. I stood not far away, watching the two of them. The woman noticed me and was startled. “Oh, I thought it was someone else. It’s just you, Abigail.” “I’m sorry, Ryan saw I wasn’t in a good mood and brought me here.” “He was being all mysterious, and I didn’t have time to tell you.” “Ryan, you should have told your mom. You made her worry for nothing.” Ryan saw me too and frowned: “Why are you here? Are you following me?” I watched the two of them put on a show, and turned to leave. Ryan followed, his tone softening: “I guess I misspoke. Next time, don’t come here uninvited.” I looked back at him and said softly, “Alright.” Memories surfaced of his chubby face as a baby, looking so much like James. He once held a private birthday party for me here. Holding flowers bought with his pocket money, he stood on tiptoes to kiss my cheek and said: “Mom, I love you. Even if dad doesn’t love you anymore, I still love you.” “Dad must have forgotten because he’s busy, but don’t worry, Ryan will keep you company.” “From now on, when you’re unhappy, Ryan will bring you here. This is our secret hideout.” The path came to an end, and the fragrance of flowers in my memory faded past their prime, scattering in the wind.

I returned home, and James opened the door for me. “You’re back? Come eat, I made your favorite sweet and sour pork.” Didn’t he say he wouldn’t be home for dinner? “Where’s our son? Didn’t you go pick him up?” “He’s with Sophia, probably right behind me.” I hung my coat on the rack, catching a glimpse of the unnatural expression on his face. I asked him, “What’s wrong?” He rubbed his nose, “Nothing, hurry and wash your hands for dinner.” At this point, the only thing I couldn’t put down in this life was my fork. Why not eat when someone has prepared the meal? I could pack my bags after dinner. While washing my hands in the kitchen, I habitually glanced at the stove. It was like this again. He seemed to never understand what I said. Every time he fried something, he would pour the used oil back into my newly rendered lard. Every time he did it, I reminded him every time. When he poured the oil into my sealed lard for the sixth time, I finally lost my temper. “Can’t you understand what I’m saying? Or are you deliberately going against me?” “Why do you have to pour the used oil into my new lard?” I was shrieking like a shrew, while he rolled up his sleeves, calm and composed. “It’s just pouring oil, can’t you talk nicely?” Haven’t I talked nicely? Did you ever take it to heart when I spoke nicely? Before I could voice my thoughts, our son spoke up. “Mom, why are you so emotionally unstable? Dad just mixed up the oils.” That was the first time Ryan complained about me. I felt hurt but assumed he didn’t understand the whole situation. As time passed, I forgot about it. Later, I learned online that James did it on purpose. As long as he messed things up, he could avoid me asking him to do it next time. But he cooked less than five times a month. I don’t know what got into him today. We were about to divorce, yet he voluntarily started cooking. At the dinner table, the three of us were silent. I looked at the red sweet and sour pork on the table and suddenly lost my appetite. He clearly knew I didn’t like sweet and sour pork made with ketchup. Sweet and sour pork with ketchup was Sophia’s favorite. Just as I was about to put down my utensils, I saw James open his mouth, seeming hesitant. But he chose to break the silence: “Look, we’ve been married for so long, can’t we just stop this petty argument?” “My book just came out, if news of our divorce spreads now…” Our son, who had been eating with his head down, suddenly looked up and said to me: “Mom, did you lose your temper with dad again?” “Are you going through menopause?” “Dad finally made it as a writer, don’t cause trouble.” He then turned to his father: “Dad, didn’t you say you were going to see Aunt Sophia?” “Aunt Sophia was crying earlier. You know her ex-husband is always harassing her.” The usually gentle and refined James suddenly changed his expression: “I… I’m going out for a bit, I’ll be back soon.” “You two eat first.” The temperature had dropped sharply recently, but he rushed out without even taking his coat. He came back a few seconds later, and I thought he was getting his coat. Instead, he took a brown object from the room and was about to leave again. I called out to him, “Hey.” He didn’t even turn around, impatiently saying, “I’ll be back soon, don’t meddle…” “Take your coat.” James stopped in his tracks: “…Thanks.” He turned and took the coat, put his hands on my shoulders, trying to kiss me. I instinctively stepped back, and he paused for a moment before quickly saying: “Calm down, we’ll talk when I get back.” I watched his receding figure, growing smaller, like my heart contracting in pain. The last time I saw him this flustered was when I was hospitalized due to exhaustion.

I married James Quinn when we were young, and we’ve been married for over twenty years. We met on campus. He was a respected teacher, and I was the owner of the small campus store. After getting married and having a child, I transferred the store and focused on raising our son. After having the baby, my health wasn’t as good as before. To avoid affecting James’s work, I chose to sleep in separate rooms. I shared a room with our child. But taking care of a child meant fragmented sleep, making it harder to maintain good health. James’s salary was stable but not high. To support the family and give our child a good education, we needed more money. To lighten the family’s burden, I took on a lot of handicraft work. The embroidery needles pricked my fingers, and it hurt. But seeing Ryan eat his favorite dishes, I felt satisfied. However, as time went on, I still collapsed from exhaustion. When I opened my eyes in the hospital, James was there with an unshaven face. He held my hand, his eyes red. “I should have noticed earlier, why didn’t you say anything?” “You should have said when you were tired, people need to rest…” He said he had taken time off work for a few days to stay with me and our son. Looking at his concerned face, I thought while lying in the hospital bed. It was all worth it. After that, he stopped constantly rushing to school. Until a year ago. He said his book was going to be published, but the editor wanted him to make some revisions. He probably wouldn’t be home much during this time. I was overjoyed and nodded eagerly. I said happily, “Focus on your writing, I’ll take care of everything at home.” After all, if the book was published, the burden on our shoulders would be much lighter. It seems that from then on, things started to go off track. The book was successfully published, but he became arrogant. After publication, James still often went out, always with excuses. “The school is having an inspection in a few days.” “I haven’t finished grading papers.” But how could there be so much work to do? He was already considered a senior teacher, and Mr. Carter, who was also in administration, could leave work on time every day. I often met him on the way to pick up our child. I couldn’t help but complain about James: “Always neglecting the family, when will you have time to spend with our son?” But he exploded like quicklime touched by water. He shouted at me: “What do you know? I’m out there making a name for myself, you just need to take care of the home.” “I’m earning money to support the family, you’re enjoying life at home, and you still have all these damn demands!” I didn’t understand. He wasn’t a businessman, he had a stable salary, and his book was published. What was he so busy with? Of course, I questioned him, but the response came from our son playing with his toys. “Dad’s earning money for the family, he must have his reasons.” “You shouldn’t meddle so much.” The voice from my memory overlapped with reality. Suddenly, Ryan in front of me seemed like a stranger. The child I carried for ten months, gave birth to, and raised. How did he turn into such an ungrateful brat in the blink of an eye? Ryan ate a few more bites of food and put down his utensils: “You clean up, I’m going to check on Aunt Sophia.” I suddenly became curious: “What’s wrong with your Aunt Sophia?” He coldly responded while putting on his shoes: “How can you not know? Isn’t it because of you that she’s like this?” “She was still smiling this afternoon, saying I made you worry.” He probably didn’t want to stay with me for even a second and quickly left. I couldn’t understand, so I went to the bedroom to find the answers I needed.

After rummaging through drawers and cabinets, I finally found a yellowed diary at the bottom of the wardrobe. It was more of a manuscript than a diary. This should be the manuscript of James’s published book. Busy with housework, I hadn’t read his book yet. Opening the first page, the handwriting was immature, different from his current flowing cursive. It recorded his bitter unrequited love from his youth, word by word. Coincidentally, the protagonists were Sophia and him. “I like her, but I feel I’m not good enough for her.” “Later, my junior was assigned to the same school as me. I thought this must be fate.” “I gathered the courage to confess to her, but she rejected me.” Touching the words on the notebook, I was lost in thought. I also had an unspoken crush once. The protagonists were James and me. I first saw him when he came to buy a broken red pen for a student. He was handsome, wearing a white shirt, and slim. His demeanor exuded scholarly charm. Perhaps it was love at first sight. From then on, I was impressed by this elegant man. The next time I saw him, he brought a box of stray kittens. “A student picked them up. I thought your place would be the most suitable to keep them. What do you think?” “They might help you catch mice.” As he spoke, he smiled, his eyes bright and teeth white. As if bewitched, I nodded. With the stray kittens, we saw each other more often. Later, after school one day, the janitor accidentally locked me in the bathroom. At that time, society wasn’t as safe, and there were many cases of robbery and violent crimes in the city. There were even robberies near the school, making everyone nervous. James couldn’t find me and was sweating profusely with worry. He finally heard my cries for help from the most remote bathroom in the school. He ran to the security office to get the key. As soon as he opened the door, he hugged me tightly. “You scared me to death… Do you know how worried I was?” After that incident, we confirmed our relationship. The reason I know Sophia is that James introduced her to me personally. After I got together with James, he brought me to meet Sophia. “This is my junior from university.” He put his arm around my shoulder, then looked up at Sophia. “This is my girlfriend.” I still remember the proud look in James’s eyes. Now that I think about it, it was just a young man’s revenge after being rejected. But I took it seriously. I stayed by his side for over twenty years.

Looking at those words full of love, they seemed to turn into sharp thorns, almost piercing my mind. I stumbled all the way to follow Ryan, arriving at a restaurant. Through the transparent glass window, I saw my husband raising glasses and laughing with another woman amidst the crowd. James rarely brought me to his gatherings. He would say, “You’re just a businesswoman. Don’t meddle in our intellectual gatherings.” “What do you women know? You have long hair but short wisdom. I’m afraid you’ll say something inappropriate if I bring you.” I had given him the cold shoulder for this before, but later when our son’s tuition was due and the electricity bill needed to be paid, I was the first to lower my head and talk to him. Most of these arguments ended with me giving in first. Later, I wondered how I had let my life become so pathetic. Even my son stood by, laughing. They looked more like a family of three. I couldn’t stay rational anymore, my expression distorted with jealousy. I rushed into the restaurant and slapped James hard across the face. Not satisfied, I raised my other hand and slapped him again. The room fell into a deathly silence. Only the red marks on James’s face told the story. After everyone reacted, the room erupted in chaos. “You hit me?” James covered his face, incredulous. Some people condemned, some tried to break it up. “Hey, lady, who are you? How can you just come in and hit someone?” “Where did this shrew come from?” Lady? I looked at the person speaking. She was clearly in her early forties too. I saw my reflection in the window. In my forties, there were already silver strands in my hair. I was wearing a hoodie that Ryan had discarded. My hair was messy from running all the way here. Looking back at James. Although middle-aged, he hardly had any wrinkles. Time seemed particularly kind to him. He matched well with the charming Sophia beside him. Sophia stroked James’s face tenderly, defending him: “Abigail, if you have something to say, can’t you discuss it calmly? Why resort to violence?” I interrupted her: “Shut up! What right do you have to lecture me!” Sophia was startled by me and closed her mouth, not daring to speak anymore. She hid behind James, her eyes quickly turning red, looking pitiful. James saw this and felt sorry for her. He stepped forward, grabbing my collar and pulling me outside: “If you have any issues, take them out on me. Why are you yelling at her?” “Look at yourself now, you’re not fit for polite society!” I stood there stunned. His words seemed to kill me, dissect me, and lay me out in front of everyone. Look, this is the man I’ve loved for twenty years. I struggled to find my voice. “…Is this how you see me?” “No, I-” he tried to refute. I cut him off: “You never brought me to meet your friends. You think I’m embarrassing, uneducated.” “Now I know it’s not just because I’m a woman, but because you look down on me from the bottom of your heart!” “You didn’t think I was embarrassing when you used my money to network with publishing houses, did you?” “Now that you’re famous, you find me embarrassing, so you’re out here living it up with your junior?” He was so angry his eyes bulged: “She’s different!” “If you have any complaints, you can tell me in private.” “I’m a public figure now, have you considered my reputation at all?” I laughed coldly inside. He could be criticized, but not his precious junior. He was certainly protective of her. I suddenly lost all energy: “Sign the divorce papers as soon as possible. Don’t wait for me to file a lawsuit.” “It won’t look good for anyone if it comes to that.”

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A True Goodbye Leaves Without a Farewell Brief My girlfriend, Sienna Lawson, had been abroad for three months. On the day she returned, she walked out of the airport arm in arm with a man who looked strikingly similar to me. That man was none other than her ex-boyfriend, Garrett Cain. The tenderness she showed him was something I had never seen before. It was then I realized I had been a stand-in for five years. So, I chose to leave and disappear from her life. In the end, Sienna, unable to find me, lost her mind. Content Watching Sienna step off the plane with Garrett Cain, the bouquet and umbrella in my hands slipped to the ground without me even noticing. Cold raindrops pelted my face, but they were nothing compared to the icy chill in my heart. I had seen a picture of Garrett in a suit on Sienna’s phone once. He looked a lot like me—maybe a 70% resemblance. But I knew I wasn’t in the photo; I never wore suits. Sienna had explained back then that she’d Photoshopped my face onto the image. Even before I started dating her, I knew she had an ex who looked like me. But after we got together, I figured the past was the past. She was with me now. Seeing Garrett in person, though, everything clicked. I’d been a substitute for five years. Friends who knew Garrett used to tease me: “Ryan, your style—your clothes, hair—it’s starting to look a lot like Sienna’s ex-boyfriend Garrett’s.” I had laughed it off then, thinking they were joking. Looking back now at everything Sienna had done, the truth hit me. In our five years together, she had me cut my hair the way she liked, dress the way she wanted, and eat the foods she liked. But it wasn’t until today, when I saw Garrett with my haircut, wearing clothes like mine, and holding the very same soda crackers that Sienna always encouraged me to snack on, that it all made sense. Standing in the rain, I felt like the fool in a viral internet meme. I had loved her for five years. I had been Garrett’s stand-in for five years. No wonder she went on frequent “business trips” abroad, sometimes for weeks. This time, it was three whole months. Because Garrett had been abroad all this time. During those three months, Sienna barely contacted me. I always sent “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” and “Good night,” sharing every detail of my day. Her replies were always the same: “Yeah” or “Okay.” It was exhausting. I picked up the roses I’d dropped, looked at Sienna and Garrett laughing together, and let out a self-deprecating chuckle. They were a perfect match. I set the bouquet on a nearby public bench and drove home. Once home, I took a hot shower to prevent a cold from being drenched in the rain, then collapsed into bed. Predictably, I woke up the next day with a fever and pounding headache. After taking cold medicine and notifying my boss I’d take the day off, I planned to rest. That’s when Sienna came home. She walked in and looked at me, surprised. “Why didn’t you go to work?” I glanced at her. “I took a sick day.” She dropped her shopping bag on the couch, sat down, and demanded, “Why didn’t you pick me up yesterday? I told you to.” My head throbbed, and I didn’t want to argue. “I’ve been busy. Forgot.” She turned her head away in a huff, a familiar gesture to coax me into apologizing. In the past, I’d rush to make things right within hours. But now, I didn’t see the point. The fever and exhaustion made me want only to sleep. I left her sulking and went to lie down. Minutes later, furious, she barged into my room and threw the shopping bag onto the bed. “I thought about you the whole time I was away. I ought you all these clothes, and you treat me like this?” I glanced at the bag’s contents and let out a bitter laugh. Of course. They were precisely Garrett’s style.

Seeing that I didn’t even bother opening the bag, she snapped, “Fine! Ignore me, huh? Don’t talk to me anymore! The company just opened a branch in Riverside, and you’re going there. You won’t see me for six months!” I paused, then understood. Garrett was back, and she wanted me out of the way. It suited me perfectly. I had been thinking about leaving anyway. Now, she’d given me the excuse. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll pack and leave right now.” She looked at me, stunned, not expecting me to agree so readily. I had clung to him for five years, desperate to spend every moment together. Whenever she went on trips, I’d practically beg to stay on the phone all day just to hear her voice. To her, I couldn’t function without her. Dragging my feverish body, I started packing. The effort left me coughing violently, my head spinning. Sienna frowned and rushed to steady me. “Are you okay?” I pushed her hand away. “I’m fine. Just caught a little rain.” I continued packing as she stood there, conflicted. After a moment, she offered, “Why don’t you wait a few days? I’ll drive you. You’re not well.” I cut her off. “No need. It’s just a cold.” Grabbing my toiletries, I returned to find my suitcase ransacked. Sienna glared at me. “Why didn’t you pack the new clothes I bought? You’re just taking your old, ugly stuff?” I calmly reorganized the bag. “I’m used to my old clothes. They’re comfortable.” “I didn’t know you’d be home so early. There’s no breakfast. Order takeout yourself. I’m leaving.” I set the house and car keys on the coffee table, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out. I had arrived with nothing. I was leaving the same way. Downstairs, as I waited for a ride, Sienna ran after me, breathless. “I’ll drive you,” she said. “The bus will be uncomfortable, and I need to check on the branch anyway.” The trip wasn’t far—just over 200 kilometers. No flights were available, and she hadn’t booked a train ticket for me. I’d have to take a cramped bus, which wasn’t ideal given my fever. I was about to agree when a black sedan pulled up. A man wearing sunglasses stepped out.

It was Garrett Cain. He walked up to Sienna Lawson, flashing her a warm smile. “Sienna, I’m here to drive you to work.” Then his gaze shifted to me. “And you must be… Ryan Lander? You do look quite a bit like me. Sienna mentioned it before, and I didn’t believe her. Now I do.” Sienna looked at me, a flicker of panic in her expression. She started to explain, “Ryan, this is—” I cut her off with a cold smile. “No need for introductions. I know him—the first picture in your phone’s ‘favorites’ album.” Of course, I recognized him. I had been his stand-in for five years. Her album only had two photos: one of Garrett and another of her and Garrett. Garrett laughed. “Didn’t expect you to keep my pictures, Sienna. To be fair, I didn’t delete yours either. Sometimes, late at night, I still look at them.” Sienna shot him a warning glare, clearly uneasy with me standing there. Garrett shrugged, unfazed, the two bantering like a couple deeply in love. And me? I was the extra in their little reunion. Garrett suddenly said, “Oh, Sienna, that luncheon at the Regency Grand Hotel this afternoon. We need to get there early to prep. You didn’t forget, did you?” Sienna slapped her forehead, looking torn. “I almost did! But I need to drive Ryan to Riverside…” She hesitated for a moment before glancing at me apologetically. “Ryan, the luncheon is crucial. Maybe you could—” “Go ahead. I’ll get there myself,” I interrupted, not giving her a chance to finish. A luncheon, huh? It is just an excuse to throw Garrett a welcome-back party. I had left a high-level corporate job to help her with her fledgling company. I remember the night she took me out for fried skewers by the roadside, and I spent no more than $20. And now, Garrett returns, and she books the city’s most luxurious hotel for him. Even the cheapest dish there costs thousands. It wasn’t the roadside food I minded. It wasn’t even the glorious celebration. It was realizing that five years of genuine love had been for nothing. As a cab pulled up, I waved it down, got in, and left. From the rearview mirror, I saw Garrett hand Sienna a dress she took with a shy smile before getting into his car. She didn’t spare a glance at the cab I had taken. There wasn’t even a text on my phone. But I didn’t care anymore. Rolling down the window, I let the morning breeze wash over me as I took one last look at the city I had stayed in for Sienna. Goodbye. No—good riddance. I would never return. Not for Sienna. Not for this city. I felt no attachment to either. As the saying goes, when you love someone, it’s soul-crushing. But when you despise them, everything about them—including where they live—becomes unbearable. The fever had me feeling lightheaded and sick to my stomach. Taking a long bus ride in this condition would probably kill me, so I asked the cab driver to take me across state lines. He agreed, for a price. When we arrived, the driver woke me up. “Where to exactly?” he asked. Groggy and feverish, I shook my head. “I don’t have a place yet.” The older man, probably in his fifties, looked at me with a hint of pity. “That young lady I saw earlier—your girlfriend, right? How could she let you travel while you’re this sick?” I shook my head again. “She’s not.” He didn’t press further, pulling out his phone and making a call before driving me toward town. I drifted off again. When I woke up, I was lying on a bed.

Still groggy, I felt an overwhelming thirst. I sat up, and just then, the door opened. A woman with a ponytail walked in, carrying a glass of water. She handed it to me with a small smile. “You must be thirsty. Here, drink some warm water.” I dumbly accepted the glass and downed it in two gulps. “Uh… is there more?” She stifled a laugh. “Of course, silly. It’s water—we’re not running out anytime soon.” She left and quickly returned with another glass, followed by the cab driver. The driver said, “I don’t know where you plan to work, but if you need a place to stay, this house is available for rent.” He explained that it was his old home, where he had lived with his family before they moved. After his daughter had a car accident that left her with mild brain trauma and depression, she couldn’t handle the noise and stress of the big city. He brought her back here, to this quiet little neighborhood. The area was serene, with courtyard-style houses. It suited me perfectly. I owed the man for helping me, so I rented the house and paid him three years’ rent upfront. The property was split into two small units connected by a walkway. His daughter, Cassidy Grace, lived on the left side, while I took the right. Before leaving, he said, “Take care of my daughter, will you?” I joked, “Aren’t you afraid I might run off with her?” He chuckled. “Kid, anyone who cries in their sleep for two hours isn’t someone I’d peg as a bad person.” I froze. So that’s why he’d asked earlier if Sienna was my girlfriend. With all his years of experience, this man had seen right through me. He took care of me while he asked me to look after Cassidy. She bought me medicine, made me meals, boiled water, and even gave me rides to work on her little electric scooter. Thankfully, my workplace was only a few miles away. I felt genuinely cared for for the first time, not coerced into compliance. During this time, Sienna didn’t call or text. I didn’t reach out either. Without her, life was better. It felt like I’d reclaimed the sunny, confident version of myself I had lost five years ago. Cassidy and I played badminton video games and spent time outdoors. I felt healthier than I had been sitting at a desk for years. She was forgetful as a result of the accident. Sometimes, she’d drop me off at work, only to return an hour late, thinking it was already time to pick me up. Her recovery would take time, possibly a lifetime. I had a friend in the medical field who had made significant breakthroughs. Once I resigned, I planned to take Cassidy to him for treatment. That was the least I could do to repay her kindness. One evening, as I lay in bed scrolling on my phone, I saw a new Instagram post from Sienna. It was a picture of her and Garrett at a hotel—he in a suit, she in a white gown. The caption read: “Powerhouse Collaboration: Here’s to the company’s future!” Anyone would’ve assumed it was a wedding photo if not for the background. Someone commented, “Wow, Ryan looks amazing in a suit! Never seen him dressed up like that.” Sienna replied: “That’s not Ryan. He’s… another friend of mine.”

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My dad had an affair with a washed-up model. My mom was devastated, cried her heart out, and demanded a divorce. In court, the judge asked me, a ten-year-old, to decide who I wanted to live with. Under my mom’s hopeful gaze, I chose my cheating dad. I rightly explained that it was my mom’s fault for not being able to have a baby brother. I was a girl, detail-oriented and responsible, and I needed to help my dad care for my unborn brother. Mom covered her face and wept bitterly. It was hilarious—she was faking it. Because we both knew the good days for me and my mom were just beginning. Content 0 In court, the judge asked who I wanted to stay with. Everyone assumed I’d choose my mom—for the stable home, loving care, and everything else that made sense. Instead, I picked my dad, who was nervously shielding his mistress, Vanessa Thorn, and her pregnant belly. Dad was stunned but quickly shrugged it off. After all, I was just a girl—his daughter, not a son. To him, girls were destined to marry out of the family eventually. When the judge asked for my reasoning, I put on my most innocent expression and said: “Dad’s had it so rough. He just wants to be with Aunt Vanessa. What did he do wrong?” “Dad’s busy making money, and Aunt Vanessa’s having a baby. I need to help Dad take care of my baby brother.” “Mom’s always busy teaching other kids. She couldn’t even have a baby brother and wouldn’t let Dad have one with someone else. That’s mean!” Beside me, Mom covered her face, her shoulders shaking as she “cried uncontrollably.” Only I knew the truth: she was laughing so hard it hurt. Mom cried on cue. No, she was acting. We had planned it this way—I’d put on the show, and she’d bring the tears. 0

Then, out of nowhere, everything went dark. When I opened my eyes, I realized I had somehow gone back in time to the year of my parents’ divorce. At this moment, Mom still hadn’t discovered Dad’s affair with Vanessa. She hadn’t confronted him yet or demanded a messy divorce. Though it was the middle of the night, I wasn’t sleepy at all. Time was of the essence. By tomorrow, Mom would find evidence of Dad’s cheating on his phone and blow up. She’d lose control, and the whole nightmare would begin again. I bolted upright, dashed out of bed, and banged on the door to the main bedroom. This was my only chance to rewrite the past and prevent the tragedy from repeating itself. Mom groggily opened the door, squinting in confusion. “Fiona, what’s going on? Why aren’t you asleep?” Like a slippery eel, I slipped past her, locked the door, and dragged her to sit on the bed. “Mom,” I said, “you need to listen.” Then, I spilled everything I remembered about the future without holding back. Why? Apart from myself, the woman who loved me most was the woman who gave me life. I left out the part about my death, though. Instead, I rambled on about how to outsmart Dad and Vanessa. Mom’s eyes were already red and brimming with tears when I looked up. She must have sensed the words I didn’t say. She wrapped her arms tightly around me, pulling me into her warm embrace. Snuggling into her, I finally felt safe. “Mom,” I whispered, “Dad’s been secretly installing cameras around the house. He thinks you might cheat on him, even though he’s the one cheating.” “There are hidden cameras in the living room. Thankfully, he hasn’t gone insane enough to put them in the bedroom.” I wouldn’t dare share any of this with Mom here at home if he had. “Start gathering evidence quietly,” I told her. “Then file for divorce. When the time comes, I’ll choose Dad in court.” Mom’s eyes grew misty, and looked like she wanted to say something. I reached out and pressed my hand against her cheek. “Mom, trust me. I’ll make sure we have a good life. I promise.” 0

After the court hearing, I moved in with Dad at the Riverside Mansion in Savannah. I played the part of a dutiful little girl who cared deeply for Dad’s happiness. I didn’t question why a supposedly broke man could suddenly afford a luxury mansion. Instead, I cheerfully declared, “Wow! This house is amazing! Aunt Vanessa will be so much more comfortable having the baby here!” I immediately ran to Dad, making a big show of my commitment to taking care of the unborn baby. Maybe Dad still had a tiny shred of fatherly love for me because he transferred $5,000 to my bank account without hesitation, telling me to use it as I wished. Then he hurried off, claiming he had work to do. Of course, I knew better. I wasn’t an actual child anymore. I knew exactly where he was going—and so did Vanessa. As soon as Dad left, Vanessa’s sweet façade crumbled. “You shameless little brat!” she snapped. “You’re old enough to know better. Stop mooching off your father!” There was something in her eyes—something dark and desperate I couldn’t quite read. She dug her sharp nails into my forehead, snatched my phone, and transferred the $5,000 into her account. Then, in her shrill, affected tone, she declared herself my “stepmother” and warned me not to breathe a word of this to “dear Daddy.” “If you do,” she hissed, “you’ll regret it.” I blinked up at her, feigning submission. “I won’t tell him,” I whispered timidly. Inside, I was laughing. Oh, Vanessa, you think I’ll stay quiet just because you told me to? 03 The following day, I got up early and set the breakfast table. The food was already waiting when Dad finally came downstairs after his morning routine. He stopped short at the sight of three bowls of bland oatmeal and two plates of pickles set on the costly cherrywood table. His lips twitched, trying—and failing—not to grimace. I could almost hear his thoughts: How am I supposed to stomach this pathetic excuse for breakfast? But I stared at him with my big, hopeful eyes, like a kid desperate for approval. After a moment of hesitation, he picked up a spoon and took a symbolic bite. He spat it out dramatically one mouthful later, his face contorting in absolute horror. Internally, I was dying of laughter. This was no ordinary oatmeal. Oh no, this was cursed oatmeal, something I’d “enhanced” to ensure maximum misery. It took Dad a while to recover, and when he did, he glared at me. “Where on earth did you get this garbage?” he snapped. “You’re old enough to know better. Can’t even buy a decent breakfast!” Then his eyes landed on my school uniform—too short and visibly worn out. His scowl deepened. “I gave you money yesterday. Can’t you at least buy yourself clothes that fit? Walking around like that makes me look bad!” His rant woke Vanessa, who waddled lazily out of the bedroom, her pregnant belly leading the way. Leaning against the railing, she smirked, clearly enjoying the show. I bit my lip and let my expression crumble into pure heartbreak. Internally, I was screaming with joy. Perfect. Everyone’s here. Showtime! Tears streamed down my face like tiny pearls, and my voice trembled as I turned to Dad. “Daddy, please don’t blame Aunt Vanessa for taking my money.” I gasped and covered my mouth. “Oh no, I wasn’t supposed to say that! Aunt Vanessa, I’m so sorry! Please don’t kick me out!” Then the waterworks started. I sobbed and stammered apologies to both of them, making myself look like a pitiful little victim. It was Oscar-worthy. Seriously, where’s my trophy? Maybe my performance was too good, or maybe Dad was fed up with Vanessa’s overbearing attitude. Either way, he rounded on her furiously. “You’re not even my wife yet! If you can’t give me a son, you can pack your bags and leave!” To appease me, he handed me his secondary credit card. I took it with wide, cautious eyes, pretending to be nervous. “Thank you, Daddy,” I murmured, earning a dismissive, “Don’t act so cheap” from him. Sure, I got scolded, but who cared? My grin was practically impossible to suppress. I figured Vanessa might back off after that public dressing down. I was wrong. Vanessa’s energy levels were infinite. After all, she’d clawed her way to the top of the mistress hierarchy to secure her pregnancy. The next day, she crushed peanuts and mixed them into my breakfast, knowing I had a mild allergy. Coincidentally, that was also the day of my entrance exams for school placement. I guess she really couldn’t stand the idea of me succeeding. Smiling coldly, I “accidentally” spilled most of the oatmeal onto her massive belly. It was fall, so the porridge wasn’t scalding hot, but the sudden sensation still startled her. She yelped, and her bladder betrayed her—pregnancy hormones and all. Watching Dad walk off in disgust while Vanessa’s trembling fingers clenched her dress was a chef’s kiss. A week later, she paid some of my classmates to bully me. What she didn’t know? I was the class president—unanimously elected; thank you very much. I took the hush money she’d given them, used it to treat the entire class to a barbecue feast, and turned the would-be bullies into my loyal allies. Two weeks later, she staged a dramatic fall, trying to frame me for hurting her unborn baby. I raised an eyebrow, pointed at the three newly installed security cameras overhead, and asked, “Are you okay?” Her eyes widened, and she scrambled to her feet, pretending nothing had happened. After that fiasco, I walked away without a scratch, while Dad became even more reluctant to come home. Vanessa officially became the “main wife” at home, but Dad’s flings were still in full swing elsewhere. Meanwhile, I happily went to school every day, playing the role of the sweet, innocent daughter whenever Dad was around. I even convinced him to drive me to school a few times personally. Thanks to that, the entire school knew I had a rich CEO dad, and no one dared mess with me anymore. 0

After that, Vanessa Thorn seemed to have finally quieted down. She stayed home every day, dutifully resting and preparing for the baby. Meanwhile, I used every spare moment to hang out with Mom. We went shopping, grabbed lunch, and just wandered around town—on Dad’s dime. Naturally, Dad noticed the constant drain on his bank account and wasn’t thrilled about it. So, every time I went back to his house, I made a detour to the Whitestone Antique Market outside the city. I’d pick up the cheapest trinket I could find, have the seller wrap it up like a treasure, and take it home. Then I’d dramatically inflate the price and rave about how rare and valuable it was. Boom—instant profit. But I knew this tactic wouldn’t last forever, so I started plotting a new hustle. Before I could fully put my plans into motion, Vanessa went into labor. It was chaos getting her to St. Mary’s Medical Center, but eventually, she gave birth to a bouncing 7-pound baby boy. Dad was over the moon. He’d been waiting for this moment forever—since I was born. Now, he finally had his long-awaited son. Fresh out of recovery, Vanessa wasted no time asking Dad to take her to the Denver County Courthouse to make their marriage official. I sighed. Men like him weren’t just disloyal to one woman—they were disloyal to all women equally. To be fair, Vanessa had striking features. If she’d gone into Hollywood, she wouldn’t have been overlooked. But everyone has their priorities, and hers was to play the “trophy wife” instead of chasing her dreams. Having outmaneuvered all the other mistresses, Vanessa used her “mother of his son” card to climb the ranks and become Dad’s official wife. Once the papers were signed, her attitude changed. She started lording her new status over me, acting like a queen in her kingdom. She even dared to complain that I was disturbing her precious baby boy. I seized the opportunity and went to Dad, crying that I wasn’t welcome at home. Vanessa had just secured her golden position, so Dad granted her every wish. That meant I got the “short end of the stick”—a five-bedroom townhouse in an elite school district and a generous monthly allowance. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind more if this were what “suffering” looked like. 0

With that kind of money, the possibilities were endless. I started by visiting a nearby known university. I found a few fresh-faced college students there and paid them to post flyers advertising tutoring services. After interviewing the applicants, I hired nine tutors to work for me. Next, I scouted for clients at middle school entrance prep classes and nearby high schools. To reel parents in, I performed impressive “party tricks”: reciting the digits of pi, reciting poetry, and solving advanced math problems on the spot. And just like that, my tutoring business took off. Even before I officially moved into my school district townhouse, I’d secured all the necessary permits to run my tutoring center legally. No shady business here—I was a model citizen. The money started pouring in. I claimed I was paying my tutors high wages, but most of it went straight into my pocket. Then, I gave some of the earnings to Mom, who quietly used the funds to buy up small shares in Dad’s company, Skyward Entertainment Group. Dad might have been the largest shareholder, but he was too busy chasing skirts to notice the details of his business. When Mom’s shares added up to make her the second-largest shareholder, I was already in high school, and Vanessa’s son was three years old. Kids grow fast, and he was no exception. I only visited the Riverside Mansion during holidays; I stayed away the rest of the time, claiming I was focused on studying and planning to skip grades. Dad didn’t believe me initially, thinking I was just being stubborn. He tried to compensate me by sending me more money, which I accepted with a “heartbroken” expression. Little did he know the saying “a crooked bamboo can sprout fine shoots” applied to me. I got so caught up in my studies that I accidentally excelled during exams. My teacher, impressed, dragged me to the principal, who fast-tracked me ahead by two grade levels. It was a win, but I couldn’t pretend to be a child prodigy anymore. Dad was stunned and stopped pressuring me to return home. Instead, he gave me even more freedom, which, in hindsight, I should’ve taken advantage of earlier. One day, I looked at Vanessa’s son. His features were undeniably delicate, but none of them resembled Dad’s. If anything, he looked suspiciously like a particular actor who rose to fame in my past life. I scratched my head—time to dig deeper. That night, I reached out to Master Alaric Whitlock online. His live streams, in which he spilled celebrity gossip and told fortunes, had become my guilty pleasure. Sending him Dad’s ID photo privately, I asked him to analyze Dad’s “lineage fortune.” The old man squinted at the picture and said, “Too much Photoshop. Send me a candid shot.” I froze. How did he know I was a girl? My profile used a random guy’s photo from school! This guy had some fundamental skills. I rushed downstairs, snapped many candid shots of Dad watching TV—front, profile, close-up, everything—and uploaded them. Dad looked utterly confused, but I mumbled a weak excuse and fled. When the photos popped up on Alaric’s livestream, he sighed. “Troublesome kid, wasting my storage space.” Soon after, he confirmed my suspicions: Dad’s “child fortune” only allowed for one offspring. Me. Oh, Vanessa was about to face some serious consequences. Just as I was preparing to unleash my evidence, the hospital called. Mom had been in an accident. I raced to St. Mary’s Medical Center, only to see her through a pane of glass, her body covered in tubes. A wave of pain consumed me, sharp and relentless, as fragmented memories flooded back. I saw my past self standing beside Mom in a hospital bed, the flatline on the monitor, and the gut-wrenching scream that tore through me. Then, the scene shifted—dark skies, bloody hands, and endless despair. I jolted awake, my vision blackened by rage. Everything came back to me.

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My father, Derek Hartman, was a DEA agent who gave his life on the front lines of the drug war. Since I was a kid, I had one dream: to restore his badge number and follow in his footsteps. When I learned my scores were good enough to get into the federal law enforcement academy, I called my mom immediately to share the news. Her response was harsh: “You? A cop? With your pathetic grades? Restore your father’s badge number. Don’t embarrass him. Get lost!” Her words hit like a sledgehammer. Devastated, I wandered home, only to be ambushed in Shadow Creek Alley by a group of thugs. “Word is your dad, Derek Hartman, was a DEA hotshot. Trained a bunch of agents and made life hell for us. Let’s talk about that, shall we?” I refused to go quietly, fighting with everything I had. But they were prepared. A knife pierced my lower back, draining me of all strength. As my consciousness faded, I thought of my mom’s last words. Mom… have I disgraced Dad? Content In the early hours of the morning, Bayport police received a report about large amounts of blood found in Shadow Creek Alley. No victim was in sight. The caller assumed it was a drunken brawl gone wrong and urged the police to find the injured person quickly. Officers arrived to find the heavy rain had washed the blood into a chaotic mess. There were no signs of a victim nearby. A thorough search of the area led them to Riverside Millworks, an abandoned factory where they discovered dismembered body parts scattered across the floor. In the autopsy room, harsh fluorescent lights flickered on. “What’s the situation with this case?” A calm, authoritative voice broke the silence as a woman in a crisp forensic uniform entered, followed by two young officers. It was Dr. Vanessa Sterling-Hartman—my mother and the most respected forensic examiner in Bayport. One of the officers said hesitantly, “Dr. Hartman, the victim’s condition is… bad. Maybe you should prepare yourself…” My mom waved them off. “I’ve seen everything there is to see. Let’s start the autopsy and solve this case quickly.” Indeed, my mother had seen it all in her two-decade career—decapitations, dismemberments, even bodies dissolved in cement. She was a consummate professional. But Mom… have you ever considered that the body on your autopsy table might be the son you’ve always ignored? Floating above, detached and invisible, I watched her work without emotion. When she unzipped the body bag, her brow furrowed deeply—not just because of the mangled remains, but because one critical part was missing. “Where’s the head?” “We searched the entire factory,” one officer stammered. “It’s likely the suspects took it.” “Fine. Let’s proceed.” She donned gloves and began sorting the remains—bones, flesh, fragments of fingers. Each piece she identified was meticulously placed in order. “The victim is male. He’s between eighteen and twenty-three, roughly five-foot-nine to six feet, based on the growth plates. Likely a student,” she narrated with clinical precision. “Judging by the condition of the cuts, the killers broke the victim’s finger bones, radius, ulna, humerus, tibia, and femur while he was still alive. Then, they dismembered the limbs. It seems they weren’t satisfied and used blunt tools—his ribs and vertebrae are almost entirely shattered.” Her grim analysis left one of the young officers pale and trembling. He clutched his stomach, barely holding back nausea. The unimaginable pain and despair the victim endured hung heavy in the room. Mom turned suddenly. “Were any weapons found at the scene?” “Yes… these,” the officer stammered, handing her photos of a rusted, bloodstained saw and a hammer caked in blood and flesh. The dull blade of the saw had been used to cut through every joint and bone. The pain it inflicted on a living person was beyond description.

Mom frowned deeply. “This isn’t random. What kind of grudge would drive someone to do this to a kid?” Even revenge killings didn’t usually escalate to this level of brutality. One of the officers responded respectfully, “Dr. Hartman, Detective Sam Boone’s preliminary investigation ruled out robbery and random violence. This is a revenge killing. The team is cross-checking recent cases of missing persons citywide.” “Good,” she replied tersely. She resumed reconstructing the remains, hoping to uncover clues. But her efforts were in vain. Even dental records—often a surefire way to identify a victim—were useless because the suspects had taken the head. Identifying a person from such a pulverized, unclothed body seemed impossible. Floating nearby, I felt a strange mix of relief and sorrow. At least Mom didn’t know it was me. If she did, she’d only call me a disappointment one last time… With a heavy sigh, she muttered, “Poor kid. Whatever grudge they had with his family, why take it out on him?” For a brief moment, her eyes shimmered with tears. This was the mom I didn’t recognize. The meticulous forensic examiner piecing together every shard of bone. The compassionate woman feels for an unknown victim. It felt so foreign. I’d always known Mom didn’t like me. I remember one rainy night when I was in elementary school. I had a fever, and Mom rushed me to the hospital, letting Dad—exhausted from days of overtime—rest at home. But she didn’t know Dad got an urgent call not long after we left. He ran out without even grabbing his gear. That same night, he was killed in a shootout with a cartel kingpin. Mom was the one who handled Dad’s autopsy. I was too young to understand death back then, but now I realize how traumatic that must have been for her. Maybe Mom blamed me. If I hadn’t fallen ill that night, Dad might still be alive. Looking at her now, I couldn’t blame her. Her focus was interrupted by a sudden ringtone. She stopped mid-motion, glaring at the two officers. “It’s not us,” they said quickly. Mom checked her phone. The call was from Rachel, my aunt. “I’m busy,” Mom answered curtly. “Vanessa, do you know where Elijah is? His phone’s off, and no one’s seen him.” “Elijah?” Mom frowned. “I don’t know. I yelled at him yesterday. He’s probably sulking in some gaming café. Leave him be.” Rachel’s voice grew concerned. “You yelled at him? Vanessa, he was so excited yesterday! His scores were good enough for the academy!” “Academy? That boy needs to get a job in IT or something. Is he becoming a cop? That would be an insult to the profession.” Her voice was as sharp as ever.

Rachel hesitated momentarily before saying, “It’s always been Elijah’s dream. He worked so hard to get those scores. I even planned to celebrate with a big dinner—I bought so much seafood…” Vanessa’s anger flared. “I don’t care! If he applies to that academy, he can forget about calling me his mother. He can go rot wherever he wants!” She ended the call abruptly, her chest rising and falling in frustration as she stood over the autopsy table, silent for a long time. I’m sorry, Mom. I won’t apply to the academy. Please don’t be mad. It’s not worth your health. I wanted so badly to tell her that. But as a wandering spirit, I could only hover above and watch helplessly. I wanted to cry, but ghosts have no tears. By now, Mom had reassembled most of the body, but something was missing—two fingers from the right hand. She frowned, instructing the nearby officer. “The right ring finger and pinky are missing. Tell the team at the scene to look again. If they’re not found…” My spirit tensed. When I was a kid, I had teased a police dog and gotten bitten. Those two fingers had scars so deep they were unmistakable. That dog had to retire early because of me, and Mom had berated me endlessly. Had she forgotten? Of course, she forgot. She never cared about me… No! Maybe it’s better if she doesn’t remember. I can’t let her know she’s the one who lost both Dad and me. The young officer saluted. “Understood! If we can’t find the fingers, it likely means they had distinctive markings.” Mom nodded. “Exactly. Focus on people with old injuries or tattoos on their hands.” She cut off a small piece of flesh. “Run a DNA test. Cross-reference it with the database. Find any immediate relatives.” I felt a wave of panic. If they ran DNA tests, they’d figure it out quickly. Mom! Don’t do it. Don’t run the DNA! Drop this case! Please! But my pleas fell on deaf ears. She couldn’t hear me. Mom worked tirelessly in the autopsy room for hours. She had arrived early, and it was already dark again when she stepped out. “Dr. Hartman, you’ve worked so hard,” one of the officers said. Mom nodded slightly, about to head home when she saw Rachel waiting anxiously near the station entrance. “Vanessa, Elijah’s been missing for more than a day now! I talked to his friends—they haven’t seen him! I even checked all the gaming cafés near the school, but he was nowhere. What do we do?” Mom’s face tightened with annoyance. “This is just one of his tricks to get me to let him apply to the academy! It’s not going to work. As long as he stays out of trouble and follows the law, that’s good enough. He’s not cut out to be a cop!” Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. “Forget his applications! His safety is the priority right now! I just heard there’s been a big case—a boy was dismembered. Aren’t you even worried it could be Elijah?” Mom’s frustration erupted. “Stop speculating about open cases that haven’t been made public! Elijah is eighteen. He’s old enough to take care of himself. If something happens to him, it’s his fault for being careless and wondering where he shouldn’t!” Rachel froze. “I’m not trying to dig for information. I’m just… scared for him.” Mom’s gaze hardened. “If he can’t manage basic risk assessment, he has no business applying to the academy. He might as well go get a job at some office instead.”

“Vanessa Sterling-Hartman! Do you hear yourself? Elijah lost his father when he was just a kid. He’s already been through enough! Instead of breaking him down, you should be building him up. What kind of person are you?” Rachel’s voice cracked as she yelled, tears streaming down her face. “You better pray that poor boy, in this case,e isn’t Elijah. Because if it is, you’ll never forgive yourself!” Her words sent a jolt of fear through me. Does she know? But the look on Rachel’s face wasn’t one of certainty. She was bluffing to provoke Mom. And it worked. Mom’s face went pale, her voice defensive. “Impossible! I would know if it was my son! That boy is not Elijah!” Rachel clenched her fists. “If it is Elijah, you’re not getting those remains. You don’t care about him anyway. He belongs to the Hartman family!” Mom shot back, “Take him! Do you think I care? I’ve had enough of that dead weight anyway!” Rachel shook with anger. “You’re unbelievable, Vanessa! Elijah is a great kid; all he’s ever gotten from you is cruelty. You’re heartless! I can’t even look at you!” I floated above them, unsure how to feel. Rachel had always been there for me, especially after Dad’s death. Mom only cared for my basic needs, but Rachel filled in the gaps. She gave me my first razor and my first pair of boxers. When I wanted to apply to the academy, Rachel secretly paid for my tutoring sessions. From school supplies to gadgets, she covered it all. To Rachel, I was practically her son. As she stormed out of the station, I followed, hovering close. She pulled out her phone, hands trembling, and began typing a message. Curious, I leaned in to see. Elijah, things are dangerous out there. No matter how upset you are with your mom, you must come home. And if you can’t face her, come to me. I’ll pay for your college. Forget your mom—my door is always open. Please be safe. Tears welled up as I read her words. Rachel lost her brother, my dad, that night in the rain. Yet, she never let bitterness take root. She gave all her love to me instead. I’m sorry, Aunt Rachel. I’m afraid I’ll only let you down. I followed her for a while, but the further we got from the police station, the weaker I felt. My body—what was left of it—kept me tethered there. When I returned, I found Mom slumped in a chair, staring blankly ahead. One of the young officers approached her cautiously. “Dr. Hartman, you’ve been working nonstop for twenty hours. Please, get some rest.” Mom shook her head. “No. I can’t let this case go. I’ll rest here briefly, then go over the remains again.” The officer hesitated but nodded. “Alright.” I watched Mom’s exhausted body waver, torn between her dedication and limits. “The DNA results are in!” The announcement electrified the station. Even I felt a surge of unease. Mom, who had spent the last two nights at the station, rushed to the records room. “Did the database find a match? Who’s the victim?” “They’re running the comparison now. Give it a moment,” an officer replied. Everyone crowded around the screen, watching the progress bar creep forward. 75%… 88%… 95%… 100%. Every breath in the room was held as they waited for the result.

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