Category: English

Seven years after marrying Adam Brown, I find a girl named Natalie Walker in his chat history. She is innocent and lively, always sending cute emojis with her messages. Adam’s replies are all short and to the point, but that’s what is most odd about it. I pretend to be curious and ask who she is. He says she is someone he’s saved during a mission. Adam works as a lawyer but also volunteers for a rescue team. He tells me she is pitiful, and that is why he can’t ignore her messages. But Adam never likes small talk. That day, Natalie and I are both taken hostage by kidnappers, and he can only save one of us. At that moment, he hesitates. When Adam Brown showed up with our son Lucas Brown, I was busy with the final preparations for my performance. It was the first show of my dance tour, “Rhythms”, and the whole company was taking it very seriously. Lucas rushed into my arms like a little puppy, saying, “Mom, you look so beautiful today.” His eyes, full of admiration and affection, sparkled like grapes, and I couldn’t help but smile back. But that joy faded the moment I saw Adam. He gave a little sigh, walked over to me, and quietly said, “Don’t be mad, okay? I didn’t mean it that way, honey, forgive me.” His apology was sincere, but it did nothing to ease the frustration I’d felt the day before. It all started about two weeks ago when Adam was working late every night. One evening, I happened to be free, so I decided to make dinner and bring it to him. But when I got there, there was already another lunchbox on his desk, and the owner of that lunchbox was chatting nonstop with Adam, who looked exhausted. Still, he tolerated her rambling on about her wild ideas. And when she said something particularly interesting, I even saw him flash a small, barely noticeable smile. I knew who she was, Natalie Walker, the girl Adam had rescued during a mission a year ago. I stared, lost in thought. Adam was a serious, reserved man, and he only ever showed that kind of gentle expression to people he was really close to. When had he started hanging around with someone like her? A chill ran through me, and my gut told me this girl had ulterior motives. When Adam saw me, a flicker of panic flashed in his eyes, but he quickly regained his composure. “Chloe, what are you doing here?” “I brought you dinner.” I kept it short and simple, my gaze sweeping over the cute lunchbox on the desk. “But I guess mine might be a little unnecessary.” Adam frowned slightly. “No, not at all. I’m glad you brought me dinner.” Natalie’s face twisted into a displeased expression, and she bit her lip. “Adam…” Her expression was so fake, it made me feel sick, but Adam’s brow furrowed deeper. “Chloe, don’t overthink it. Adam saved me. I brought some food to thank him.” I snorted softly. She was too young, and her flimsy excuse seemed pathetic to me. “Have you studied social etiquette? Bringing someone dinner in the middle of the night isn’t exactly the best way to show your gratitude.” I didn’t like playing nice when I didn’t mean it, and I wasn’t afraid to speak my mind. Natalie’s eyes immediately filled with tears, and she looked helplessly at Adam. Adam stayed silent. Natalie’s face was a mix of confusion, resentment, and even a little hatred toward me. Typical of someone her age. She couldn’t keep her emotions in check. “Sorry, Chloe. I was too forward. Adam, I’m sorry for causing trouble.” Natalie quickly grabbed her lunchbox and rushed out of the office. After she left, Adam turned to me and met my eyes calmly. “She’s young, Chloe. You don’t need to be so hard on her.” His words were cold and flat, with no emotion behind them, but they made me shudder. From that moment on, Adam and I started a cold war. What was the cause of the silence between us? Was it just because of Adam’s offhand comment, which wasn’t even a real expression of anger? No, it was because Adam had defended another woman in front of me. He had started shifting the affection he once gave me onto someone else. The cold war was painful. Adam pretended to be consumed by work, staying out all night, and leaving all the household responsibilities to me. I was lost, unable to understand why sending away a girl who had feelings for him, just like I always had, would make him so angry. He had even once questioned my feelings for him just because I wasn’t the jealous type.

“Honey, please don’t be mad at me. The bed in my office is so cold and hard, I can’t get used to it. Please let me come home,” Adam said. “Oh, so now you want to come home? What, do you think I’d stop you?” I replied sarcastically. Adam rubbed his head against my neck, his usual way of trying to win me over, and my heart couldn’t help but soften. “Honey, I really am sorry. Don’t stay mad.” “I made a reservation at that restaurant. Let’s go after your show. They have your favorite blueberry cake today.” Adam kept rambling, and all the resentment I’d been holding onto seemed to deflate, like air escaping from a balloon, fading away completely. “Will you still argue with me over her?” I looked at him sideways. “No, I won’t. You’re the most important person in my life.” I didn’t respond to that. Instead, I simply said, “Their seats are in the second row. You take Lucas over there.” A smile crossed Adam’s face as he picked up Lucas in his arms and leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the lips. It was annoying. He smudged my lipstick, but I couldn’t stop the happiness from bubbling up inside me. I hated the coldness in a home, and I didn’t want to keep fighting with Adam. The “Rhythms” performance went wonderfully, with thunderous applause from the audience. As I left the backstage area, I overheard people excitedly discussing the show. At the door, Lucas was standing next to Adam, holding a bouquet of flowers that was almost as tall as he was. When he saw me, he turned his body and ran over. “Mom, these flowers are from me and Dad. Do you like them?” I took the flowers and gave Lucas a kiss on his soft, chubby cheek. “Thank you, Lucas. I love them.” Lucas, shy, covered his face with his hands and burrowed into Adam’s arms. In a little boy’s voice, he said, “Mom, I’m a big boy now. You can’t kiss my face like that anymore.” Adam and I exchanged a look, and in that instant, we both shared a quiet, amused smile. This was how things should be between Adam and me, not changed because of some woman who’d only been in the picture for a year. The meal was lovely, filled with Lucas’ childlike chatter. When Lucas had finished half of his cake, he smiled and made a wish. “I hope every day is like this, happy, and that Dad and Mom always love me.” The mood was peaceful and harmonious, until suddenly Adam’s phone rang, the caller ID showing an unknown number. Adam hesitated for a moment before he hung up, but the caller didn’t give up, dialing again twice more. I turned my head, a little confused, and asked, “Who’s calling? Why aren’t you answering?” “It’s someone unimportant. No need to pick up,” he said. Hearing this, I didn’t press the matter. But then, the phone rang again. And just as I turned my head, I clearly saw the name on the screen, Natalie. “Adam, there’s a power outage at my place. I’m so scared.” In an instant, I could picture Natalie’s pitiful expression. What kind of emotions must have been behind the words she’d sent? I could hear Lucas singing a childish song off-key in the background, but my gaze was fixed on Adam’s face, searching for any sign of change. His expression remained as calm and unreadable as ever. But Adam must have sensed my suspicion. He pulled me close into his arms, “Chloe, don’t overthink it. I won’t go see her. I know where my boundaries are. The person I want to spend my life with is you.” I leaned into him, the steady beat of his heart soothing against my ear. Was this reassurance meant for me, or for himself? That fleeting worry in his eyes… Was he afraid I’d be upset, or was he concerned about Natalie?

After that night, life with Adam seemed to return to normal. Kisses and hugs, flowers and gifts were a regular part of my life again, and we were once more the picture-perfect couple that everyone admired. I wanted to lose myself in this blissful illusion, but Adam’s phone kept ringing nonstop every day, with messages coming in one after another, constantly reminding me that Natalie hadn’t completely disappeared from my life. I asked Adam to delete her number. But Adam said, “Her background is pretty sad, and she’s sensitive and insecure. If I just delete her, it might hurt her feelings. Right now, she sees me as her savior. If I cut her off abruptly, it might make her overthink things. But Chloe, you have to trust me. There’s nothing between us.” I stared silently at Adam, my emotions unreadable. With a helpless sigh, Adam handed me his phone. “If you don’t believe me, check it yourself. I really don’t have anything to do with her.” I glanced at his phone, but just for a second before I quickly turned my head away. I’ve always believed that trust is the most important thing between a husband and wife. I’d never checked Adam’s phone before. “I don’t need to check. I trust you.” A smile tugged at Adam’s lips, and he pulled me into his arms. “Chloe, you’re the best.” I whispered, “But don’t let me down, okay?” “I won’t. I’ll never disappoint you.” Despite his reassurances, Adam’s phone continued to ping with messages from Natalie every now and then. Every time I saw Natalie’s messages, written in that sweet, almost playful tone, a wave of anger surged inside me. I had never seen someone so shameless. Adam had already made his feelings clear. Why couldn’t she just let it go? But I had forgotten that sometimes, a little pain can be the beginning of love, and I had underestimated the saying, “When a woman chases a man, even a thin layer of paper is a barrier.” So, Adam started getting busy again. On the night of my second performance, Adam had told me he was busy with work, even though I knew he had the evening free. Instead of joining me, he sent a bouquet of flowers. But later, I found out that he had actually left work early that day, and I had no idea where he went. He had lied to me. When Lucas got sick, Adam said he was busy, leaving me to take Lucas to the hospital alone. Lucas had a high fever and kept calling for his dad. I tried calling Adam, but he quickly hung up. Before he hung up, I heard a woman crying in the background. On Lucas’ fifth birthday, Adam had promised to get him a retired police dog. He’d even put in a request to the station early. With his position, getting a retired police dog should have been easy. But on Lucas’ birthday, Adam apologized to him, saying the dog hadn’t been approved yet, and asked him to wait a little longer. Lucas was disappointed, and the next day, I saw Natalie walking a retired police dog in the park. What really set me off, though, was when I found a woman’s lipstick mark on Adam’s shirt. The bright red imprint felt like a hammer hitting me in the head. All I could hear was a buzzing in my ears, and the blood seemed to drain from my body. Adam had cheated.

Adam stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing his damp hair. When he saw the shirt in my hands, his eyelids twitched involuntarily. He quickly walked over to me, and when he saw the lipstick stain on the shirt, his 6’3″ frame seemed suddenly stiff and awkward. I threw the shirt in his face, my voice trembling with fury. “What’s this? A challenge?” He steadied me with his hands, urgently saying, “Chloe, Chloe, I can explain!” “Explain what? Adam, do you really think I don’t know anything? Were you really working that night during the performance? The woman on the phone when Lucas was sick… Wasn’t that Natalie? And the retired police dog you promised Lucas… You gave it to Natalie, didn’t you? You promised you wouldn’t disappoint me, but everything you’ve done lately just breaks my heart! This lipstick mark? What did you two do? You hugged her, didn’t you? After that, did you do anything else?” This past month had been pure torture. I watched as Adam grew more and more involved with Natalie, and I kept forgiving him. But Adam didn’t wake up. He chose to lie to me, and I was on the edge of confronting him. I just never expected the disgusting truth would come out this way. My emotions were so intense I could hardly breathe. I gasped for air, my chest burning with pain as if I’d been stabbed. Adam’s touch made me feel sick. “I didn’t! I pushed her away! There’s nothing between us, I swear! She’s just so pitiful, alone and bullied by everyone. She didn’t even tell me at first, I only found out when I saw her being mistreated. I felt sorry for her, but that’s all. I just wanted to help her, nothing more!” “Then why lie to me?” “Because I was afraid you’d get angry! Chloe, you care so much about Natalie, and I didn’t want her to come between us.” “Do you even hear the nonsense you’re spouting? If there was nothing between you two, why would you be afraid of me getting mad? Can’t you see she’s trying to seduce you? Tell me. Do you swear you have no feelings for Natalie Walker?” By now, Adam’s face was no longer full of fear; it was replaced with irritation. He kicked the edge of the bed in frustration. “Do you have to speak like this? You’ve never been like this before!” I gave a bitter laugh. How could he still act so righteous after everything he’s done? “Remember that debate we had back in college? Whether emotional cheating was worse or physical cheating? You said it was all cheating, and that men like that weren’t worth anything. You promised me you’d never cheat, but look at what you’ve done now!” Did twenty-year-old Adam know that thirty-year-old Adam would completely forget those words? His face went pale, and his lips trembled uncontrollably. “Adam Brown, you’re disgusting.”

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In college, I dumped the most popular heiress on campus. Three years later, my apartment flooded in the middle of the night. I went to crash at my buddy’s place, but accidentally crawled into her bed instead. She smirked coldly: “What, trying to rekindle our old flame?” I panicked and tried to leave, but she grabbed me. “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t just show up and leave like that.” In my dream, I was holding a soft, warm body. Just as I was about to really enjoy myself, a sharp pain in my ear jolted me awake. I opened my eyes to find myself staring into those mesmerizing almond-shaped eyes I’d been dreaming about. The owner of those eyes was speaking: “Beckett, it’s been so long and this is how you choose to see me again? What, trying to rekindle our old flame?” Terrified, I quickly freed my ear from her grasp and jumped out of the bed, my face flushing red and pale in turns. Lark. My ex-girlfriend. How did I end up in bed with her?! Her long hair was loose, and she was wearing only a sheer nightgown that left little to the imagination. I stuttered, “W-what are you doing here?” “I could ask you the same thing!” she retorted. At this point, I was so embarrassed I just wanted to run away. But she grabbed me before I could escape. “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t just show up and leave like that.” How could I have possibly guessed that after my apartment flooded, I’d sneak into my buddy’s place in the middle of the night only to end up in my ex-girlfriend’s bed? The commotion woke up the owner of the house. Gideon came over in his pajamas, his voice preceding him: “Cousin, what’s all the noise about?” When he saw me, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. “What the hell? What are you doing here?” I gave a bitter smile. “My apartment flooded. I had nowhere else to go but your place.” My buddy pulled me aside and winked at me suggestively. “She’s my cousin. Did you two sleep together?” I was so embarrassed I wanted to crawl into a hole. She was the last person I ever wanted to see again. This girl I had once cared for with all my heart – we just weren’t meant to be.

Back in college, she was the untouchable ice queen of our school. I fell for her at first sight when I saw her at a club meeting. Everyone said she was a wealthy heiress with impossibly high standards. Then one day, she sprained her ankle in the locker room. She limped out, her face pale with pain and covered in cold sweat. I happened to be passing by and immediately carried her to the infirmary on my back. After that, we became friends. I discovered that although she seemed cold on the surface, she was actually quite warm and friendly in private. She was also quite forgetful and always losing things. She would often message me asking for help buying this or fetching that. She said I was the most attentive man in the world, remembering all her likes and dislikes and providing the best emotional support. She teased that I must have a girlfriend to be so experienced. I laughed and said no, she was my first. Her eyes sparkled as she quietly took my hand. The more I got to know her, I realized she wasn’t called the campus goddess just for her beauty. She was also the cream of the crop among the wealthy elite. They had their own exclusive social circle that partied together. It was a completely different world from mine. But she told me she hated the fakeness and pretension of that circle. She said I was the most real. That made me happy. I introduced her to down-to-earth experiences of ordinary life. When I earned some money from helping my professor with research, I would treat her to a big meal. Sometimes she offered to pay, but I refused. I told her, “Paying is a man’s job.” I might not be able to give her a better life, but I would do my best with what I had. During that time, we were as close as could be. It was just an ordinary relationship, unable to withstand even a bit of wind and rain.

One day, a guy named Kieran from another department approached me. “I’m her fiancé. Please stay away from Lark.” I was shocked. “Lark never told me she had a fiancé.” “Our parents arranged it long ago. You can’t possibly be her boyfriend.” “What can you offer her besides dragging her down?” I didn’t believe him and argued back. He arched an eyebrow haughtily. “Let me show you her real life.” He had me disguise myself and took me to a fancy mansion. There I saw her with perfect makeup and an elegant updo, wearing a designer evening gown. She moved gracefully through the party, charming and poised. As the hostess, she worked the room effortlessly, completely in her element. Indeed, she and I seemed to be from different worlds. “See, she’s like a queen on high. And you? You’re just an ant on the ground. She doesn’t need some guy to take her to street food stalls. She needs someone who can build an empire with her.” I looked down at my sneakers and jeans, so out of place in this setting. I argued stubbornly, “But she likes me just the way I am.” Kieran laughed. “There are plenty more like you. Want proof? Check her phone contacts.” “She has her contacts sorted into groups. Our circle is in one group, while you and others like you are in a separate group.” The next day when I met Lark, I checked her phone while she was in the bathroom. Sure enough, my contact was saved under a code name and number. There were 7-8 others with similar names, all grouped together. When she came back, I asked her directly. “Do you find being with me boring?” She blinked coyly. “Not at all. I love being with you. You let me relax and not have to keep up appearances all the time.” “Are there others like that too?” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “A few, I suppose.” My heart sank. “Will I be part of your life in the future?” “Of course! We’ll work together at the company. There’s a trendy term now – ‘live-in son-in-law.’ What do you think?” She looked at me mischievously, as if she had just made a harmless little joke. My heart plummeted. This wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted an equal partnership. Finally one day, we had just finished watching a sad movie. The plot left me feeling suddenly disillusioned. “Let’s break up,” I said. She looked at me in shock, her temper flaring. “Fine, let’s break up then. Don’t come crying back to me later!” After that, when she messaged me, I blocked her. We had no contact for three years. I heard she went abroad.

Gideon’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “So that’s what happened between you and my cousin! No wonder she was so depressed for a while, locking herself in her room and refusing to talk to anyone.” I couldn’t imagine her being heartbroken over me. Those 7-8 guys in her phone contacts, each with their own code name. I was just one of many. “Getting dumped always hurts. It’s not that surprising,” I said. I had to go to work the next day and also needed to get my apartment fixed. I left early in the morning, not wanting any more interaction with her. I’m now a project manager at an IT company. Today we had a meeting with a big corporation about a new project. My team and I rushed to the company, only to find that our contact person was none other than Lark, who I had just awkwardly parted ways with. My scalp tingled, but there was no avoiding her. “This project has a tight timeline and heavy workload. The team will need to work overtime often, and many business requirements will need to be confirmed with me in person,” she said. I nodded. “Since we’ve won the bid, we’ll give it our all.” She pointed at me. “Beckett, please come to my office to discuss some details.” I followed her into her office. It had an austere, elegant style that didn’t quite match her soft beauty. What suited her best was the sharp business suit that accentuated her figure as she walked. I steadied myself. She first went over the project details, which I responded to one by one. Then she suddenly asked, “Our project schedule is very tight. Will your girlfriend mind you getting home late?” I shook my head. For some reason, I found myself asking, “You’ll be working late with us too, right? Will your boyfriend mind?” She answered languidly, “My boyfriend? He has quite a temper. Very willful.” I guessed she meant Kieran. My heart twisted with an indescribable sourness. “Then you shouldn’t stay so late with us. I can report any issues to you the next day.” She stared at me for a moment, then suddenly stood up and sat down next to me.

I stiffly shifted away. She suddenly grabbed my sleeve. “Why did you block me? Even if we couldn’t be lovers, couldn’t we at least be friends?” My heart ached. As if I had a choice in the matter? She leaned in close, her sweet-smelling breath on my face. “Beckett, I…” Before she could finish, there was a knock and Kieran walked in. “Lark, sorry, I didn’t know you had someone here.” He turned and saw me, freezing in surprise. “Well if it isn’t our campus heartthrob Beckett! Long time no see. I hear you’re a project manager now.” Seeing him brought back memories of before, filling me with bitterness. He walked over and put his arm around Lark’s waist intimately. “What do you want for dinner? I’ve made a reservation.” He looked at me. “Beckett, want to join us?” I suddenly stood up. “Sorry, I have plans. My girlfriend made a reservation too. I’ll be going now!” Lark looked stunned. I fled under Kieran’s mocking gaze. My heart, which had long been frozen over, shattered completely at the sight of them together. This time hurt even more than in college. Back then, I had cut things off myself. This time, I was the one being cast aside. My heart turned cold. Kieran was right about one thing. The games of the wealthy were not for ordinary people like me to play.

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On the day my usually well-behaved son killed his classmate and jumped off the rooftop of his school, my sister was frantic, making hundreds of calls and even contacting my husband to involve the police, urging me to identify his body. I, his biological mother, was in no rush. Instead, I ordered a fried chicken feast and casually watched TV. In my previous life, I had poured everything into raising my son, Gabriel. I nurtured him with care and love, molding him into a humble, bright, and kind-hearted young man. I ensured he had a healthy diet, tended to his every need, and was physically perfect without a single scar on his skin. Yet, on the day of the SATs, he killed his classmate Logan and leaped from the rooftop of Ashwood High School. When I rushed to the scene, devastated, my younger sister Lauren suddenly broke down, accusing me of abusing Gabriel for 18 years. She cried loudly, claiming I had caused his death. The coroner lifted the shroud covering Gabriel’s body, revealing scars of varying ages. My husband, Nathan, erupted in rage, releasing videos of me strictly disciplining Gabriel. The internet exploded in outrage, painting me as a monster. Online hatred culminated in strangers finding my location. Fueled by fury, they stabbed me ten times. I died in pieces, unable to understand: Why did my beloved son, whom I had never laid a finger on, end up killing someone, jumping to his death, and bearing scars I never inflicted? When I opened my eyes again, it was the day before Gabriel’s SATs. …… Content

“Abby, relax. Gabe’s a bright kid; tomorrow’s SATs will be a breeze. I bet he’ll get into Harvard without breaking a sweat.” Lauren, my sister, patted my back with a warm smile, offering kind words. I froze for a moment. The phantom pain of ten stab wounds in my abdomen lingered, making my head spin. The shock of Gabriel’s broken body and the agony of being murdered left my vision bloodshot. Lauren pulled me into a hug. “You’re so stressed out. Just stay home and rest. You’ll only distract him if you go over there.” “Trust me, Abby. Tomorrow, you’ll see that all your hard work will pay off. Gabe’s going to make you proud.” Her words, full of confidence, left me trembling. The surreal feeling of déjà vu was overwhelming. Lauren was my only family left. We had always been close, so I could never have imagined that in my past life, she would stand by Gabriel’s shattered body and accuse me of abuse. I pushed her away gently, my eyes red but my smile firm. “Fine. We’ll wait and see.” I swore I would save my son and uncover the truth. In my previous life, I had listened to Lauren’s advice. To avoid distracting Gabe, I stayed home. I even bought him a Lego set and Universal Studios tickets as a surprise for when the exams were over. I had poured years of careful attention and boundless love into raising Gabe. As a full-time mom, I devoted my every moment to him. With Nathan always busy with work, I took it upon myself to manage everything for our son. I never let Gabe do chores, encouraging him to exercise while I handled everything at home. I cooked him balanced, nutritious meals, tailoring them to his tastes. I even studied various subjects to help him whenever he struggled. I raised him as a kind, moral, and brilliant young man—every parent’s dream child. On the day of the SATs, I was full of hope, waiting outside the exam hall. Instead of my smiling son, I was met with his broken body, unrecognizable after the fall. I collapsed, heartbroken. Lauren wailed beside me, accusing me, “Abby, why did you push Gabe so hard? Did his grades matter more than his happiness?” “You hit him and stressed him out so much that he killed someone and jumped off a building. Are you happy now?” I crumpled to the ground, pale and speechless. Around us, the parents of other students murmured harshly: “So that’s how her kid was so perfect. She must’ve been ruthless. No wonder he jumped.” “Poor boy. And what about the classmate he killed? What a tragedy.” Their cruel words were unbearable. My son’s success had already drawn jealousy, but now their malice was like a tidal wave. Nathan arrived, furious. He shoved me to the ground and, in front of everyone, played a video from our home cameras. In it, I was sternly telling Gabe to finish his homework before playing video games. That single clip unleashed a storm of hatred online. People branded me a tyrant who had robbed Gabe of his freedom. Driven by blind rage, strangers found my address. They stabbed me repeatedly. The physical pain paled in comparison to the agony of losing my son and being betrayed by those I loved most. I couldn’t comprehend why my cheerful, kind-hearted son had done such terrible things before taking his own life. I had to stop this from happening. I needed to go to Ashwood High School and prevent him from killing Logan. I needed to rewrite this tragedy.

Gabriel’s school had a rule: Students had to stay in the dorms for a week before the SATs. Lauren kept insisting I stay home and not bother Gabe. I forced a smile and agreed. “Alright, you go ahead. Tomorrow, we’ll pick Gabe up together.” She smiled warmly, giving me a reassuring hug. “Everything will be okay.” In my previous life, she had always supported me with kind words. After our parents passed, I dropped out of school early to work and support her education. My life before raising Gabe had been dedicated to her. Yet, in the end, she publicly accused me, revealing mysterious scars on her own body. “Abby, you used to beat me too. How could you do the same to your son?” Her accusations were a knife to my heart. Watching Lauren’s car drive away, I changed into fresh clothes and raced to my garage. The thought of Gabe’s broken body tortured me, making me slam the gas pedal. When I arrived at Ashwood High School Dormitory, I rushed to the entrance, where Mrs. Spencer, the dorm supervisor, stopped me. “Whoa there! Parents aren’t allowed in. It’s SAT week!” “Please, I need to see my son. It’s urgent!” I pleaded desperately. She shook her head. “Rules are rules. I can’t let you in.” I relented and asked if she could call Gabe down instead. Soon, I heard footsteps on the stairs. When I saw Gabe alive and standing before me, my tears fell uncontrollably. I grabbed his hands, trembling, and asked, “Have I ever made you unhappy with how strict I’ve been?” Gabe looked confused. “Mom, what’s wrong? Of course not. I know you’ve done so much for me, especially with Dad working so much. The least I can do is study hard to repay you.” He smiled and hugged me. “Tomorrow’s the SATs. Don’t worry. I’ll make you proud.” Shaking, I asked, “How are things with your classmates? If there’s anything wrong, you can tell me.” He looked puzzled. “Everything’s fine, Mom. I get along great with everyone.” Gabe had always been well-liked, playing basketball with his friends and being kind to everyone. So why would he ever kill someone? I stroked his hair. “Alright. I’ll stay at a hotel nearby and meet you first thing tomorrow, okay?” “Okay, Mom.” He gave me a curious look but agreed. As I watched his tall figure disappear up the stairs, I wondered. At eighteen, he was strong and confident. There was no way he was being bullied. So why would he murder Logan and then jump to his death? I couldn’t figure it out. Bound by the school’s rules, I booked a room at The Elmwood Inn, overlooking the exam hall. That night, I sat wide-eyed, unable to sleep. The following day, I watched Gabe enter the exam hall. Everything was calm until the final ten minutes. For a moment, I closed my eyes. But when I opened them again, I saw Gabe standing on the hallway ledge, holding a bloodied knife. His face twisted in agony as tears streamed down. I could see his lips moving, shouting something I couldn’t hear. Then he climbed the railing. The memory of his shattered body from my past life flashed through my mind. “No!” I screamed, my voice cracking with despair.

But he couldn’t hear me. He shouted something I couldn’t make out, then suddenly leaned forward and vaulted over the railing. I saw his tall, sunny figure plummet like a kite with its string cut, crashing to the ground below. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. A metallic taste rose in my throat, and I coughed up blood. Staring at the distant ground where my son lay, I was thrown back to the memory of my previous death—stabbed ten times by enraged strangers. My fingers gripped the railing as I followed Gabe’s path, leaping off without hesitation. The impact shattered my bones, and I felt my insides heave up through my throat in a wave of iron-sweet pain. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing by the window of my house. Down below, I could hear the hum of an engine as Lauren’s car prepared to leave. I clenched my fists as if bracing myself for an irreversible decision. I drove straight to Ashwood High School, reaching Gabe’s dormitory without delay. This time, I demanded that Mrs. Spencer bring him down. When Gabe appeared, I didn’t exchange pleasantries. I grabbed his hand and said, “You’re coming home with me.” He stared at me, shocked. “Mom, the SATs are tomorrow. Are you feeling alright? Do you have a fever?” He reached out to touch my forehead. I caught his hand. “Gabe, I’ve let you make your own decisions for years, but you’re going to listen to me this time.” Mrs. Spencer looked baffled and stepped forward. “Ma’am, you’ve got to be kidding. You’re pulling him out the night before the SATs?” I brushed past her. “I’m his parent. I have the right to take him.” Her jaw dropped. “With a mom like you, no wonder the kid’s doomed.” Gabe frowned but followed me home, clearly confused. “Mom, what’s going on? You’re acting like a completely different person.” “In my eyes, you’ve always been calm, graceful, and composed. I’ve never seen you like this before.” For years, I had solved every problem independently, never raising my voice or losing control. Now, I didn’t know how to explain to him that his life was at stake. Tears streamed down my face as I asked, “Tell me the truth. Have I ever pushed you too hard? Are you unhappy?” He hesitated, thinking. “Well, of course, there were times it was hard, but when I saw my grades improve, I felt good about it.” I hugged him tightly. “But Gabe, I’ve realized none of that matters. All I want is for you to be happy and healthy.” His confusion deepened. “Mom, I am happy.” I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Gabe, is there something you’re hiding from me? Please, just tell me!” Startled by my outburst, he shook his head. “Mom, you’re scaring me. Are you okay?” He brought me a glass of milk. “I’ll stay home tonight to calm you down, but tomorrow, I’m still taking the SATs.” I forced a smile and nodded. That night, I sat outside his bedroom, watching him sleep. Each time I closed my eyes, I saw him crying on that rooftop, jumping to his death. The SATs were the culmination of years of hard work. But what were their grades compared to his life? I grabbed his exam folder in the living room and tore his admission ticket. As long as tomorrow passed, Gabe would survive. I leaned against his bedroom door and closed my eyes. I was startled awake by the sound of shattering glass. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the window, and rain poured down in torrents. Gabe was standing on the windowsill, his figure silhouetted against the storm. He turned to look at me, his eyes filled with despair, tears streaming down his face. He forced a smile in the rain, then fell backward into the darkness. I lunged forward, screaming, “No!” But all I heard was the sickening thud of his body hitting the ground. I collapsed, sobbing, “Why? I brought you home. Why couldn’t I save you?” Despite everything I’d done—even giving up his SATs—he still chose this path.

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I was preparing to take my girlfriend to Alaska to see the Northern Lights when I found photos of her lying naked with her male best friend in my drawer. Along with the photos were a bunch of lab reports checking male fertility. The date on the reports was the same day I had my stomach cancer surgery. So when she said she was busy, she was actually busy testing her male best friend’s fertility. When I confronted her about it, she lashed out at me impatiently. “We were just lying together, nothing happened.” “This was purely medical treatment. Can’t you stop being so dirty-minded?” Looking at the explicit video that came through on my phone, my heart sank into dead silence. After a long pause, I called my parents. “Mom, Dad, I agree to come back and inherit the family business.” After I hung up the phone, there was a violent knocking at the door. The door shook with the urgent, grating knocks. Whoever was outside was clearly furious. “Nash, open the door!” It was my girlfriend Nadia’s voice. In the past, I would have rushed to open the door for her, helped her change into slippers, and welcomed her home. I always felt bad about how hard she worked managing the company and wanted to do whatever I could to take care of her and ease her worries. But today, I just sat there, my expression blank. Seeing no one was opening the door, Nadia had someone break it down. The first thing she did when she came in was rush to my side and slap me hard across the face. “Why did you attack Kieran?” “You know his health is poor. Why would you hurt him?” Looking at Nadia’s near-crazed expression, my heart clenched painfully. Today I had bought plane tickets, planning to come home and pack our bags to take her to see the Northern Lights in Alaska. I wanted to surprise her. Instead, I found those “treatment” photos of her and Kieran in the drawer. When I went to confront Kieran, I was beaten up by him and his friends. Now somehow I was the one who had attacked him. “Say something. Cat got your tongue?” Nadia’s pupils were bloodshot, her eyes looking like they wanted to kill me. “You dare to do it but not admit it? Some man you are.” I lowered my head with a self-mocking smile, no longer having the energy to argue with her. I just tossed the photos at her feet. “What is this?” When she saw the photos, a flash of guilt crossed Nadia’s eyes. Her hands involuntarily clenched, and she spoke with less confidence. “It’s not what you think.” “Kieran was diagnosed with fertility issues and might not be able to have children. I was just helping the doctor treat him.” What kind of medical treatment requires lying naked in bed with a woman? Such a ridiculous excuse, yet she believed it. I just found it laughable. But Nadia kept talking, becoming more convinced she was right. “That’s right, this was purely medical treatment. Kieran and I are completely innocent, heaven knows.” “How can your mind be so dirty? You really disgust me.” I looked at her, shocked and grieved. What was I still hoping for? I should have understood long ago, when she kept abandoning me for Kieran time after time, shouldn’t I? Nadia and I were college classmates. We went from campus sweethearts to where we are now, the model couple in everyone’s eyes. For her sake, I fought with my parents and stayed in this city. When she wanted to start a company, I emptied my pockets and worked hard with her to build the business from scratch. When she saw me vomiting uncontrollably after drinking too much at business dinners, she would hold me preciously, tears welling up in her eyes out of distress. “Nash, you’ve worked so hard. When we make it big, I’ll never let you push yourself like this again,” she would gently comfort me, wiping the sweat from my brow. “Then we’ll get married, have the wedding at the best hotel, the most luxurious ceremony.” “I’ll make everyone envy you.” Those words still rang in my ears, but the person before me was no longer the same. When she looked at me now, there was only disgust in her eyes. “I’ve already explained everything clearly. Stop being difficult,” Nadia said impatiently, reaching out to pull me. “No matter what, you were wrong to hit someone. Come with me now to apologize to Kieran.” Before I could break free, her phone rang. After answering, her expression instantly changed. She shot me a vicious glare. “Kieran is still coughing up blood from your beating. You’d better pray he’s okay, or I won’t let you off easy!” After Nadia left, I stared at the door that could no longer be closed and thought for an entire night. As dawn approached, I finally went inside to pack my bags. Something already broken can never be restored to its original state, no matter how much you try to fix it. I had always thought about what I could do to keep her, but I forgot that someone who doesn’t love you won’t stay no matter what. Taking one last look at the room I had lived in for years, no matter how reluctant and nostalgic I felt, I had to let go. It no longer belonged to me. Voices of laughter came from outside. When I opened the bedroom door, I was stunned by the scene before me. Nadia was helping Kieran sit down, her face full of concern and distress. But the moment she looked up and saw me, her expression instantly turned cold. “You slept well, didn’t you?” “Kieran couldn’t sleep all night because of you. I was so worried I didn’t sleep either. How dare you sleep?” Kieran patted her back soothingly. The atmosphere between them was so intimate, it seemed no third person could intrude. It made me, the real boyfriend, feel like the shameful mistress. My heart trembled with pain, and even my newly operated stomach began to ache faintly. Kieran took Nadia’s hand, smiling magnanimously. “Nadia, don’t blame Nash. He only hit me because he loves you too much.” Before I could say anything, Nadia couldn’t sit still. “You don’t need to speak up for him. I know him too well. He’s just a born bad seed, jealous and selfish, who can’t stand seeing me be good to anyone else.” Nadia completely ignored the pain in my eyes and continued righteously: “Kieran is in this state because of you. I brought him home to help you atone for your sins.” Saying this, her expression turned haughty, speaking as if granting me a favor. “These next few days, you’ll personally take care of Kieran. Once he recovers, I might forgive you.” “If you don’t agree, hmph, we’ll break up.” Her arrogant demeanor suggested she was certain I would give in. In the past, I would have already lowered myself to appease her. Because I loved her and couldn’t bear to see her suffer even a little bit of grievance. But all of my compromises and concessions had become leverage for her to manipulate me in her eyes. “Fine, then let’s break up.” Time seemed to freeze. Nadia’s smug expression instantly cracked, her whole being filled with disbelief. It took her a long time to react, pointing at me with trembling fingers. “What did you say?” Over the years, we had our quarrels and conflicts, but as long as she mentioned breaking up, no matter how angry I was, I would immediately calm down and beg her not to leave me. But today, this usually foolproof tactic wasn’t working. Nadia felt like she was losing control of something. Her eyes trembled fiercely. No longer wanting to argue with her, I picked up my suitcase and strode out. In the room, Nadia stood frozen. When she came to her senses and wanted to chase after me, Kieran stopped her. “You don’t need to go after him. He’ll naturally come back in a few days.” “He’s just doing this on purpose to get your attention. I’m a man too, I understand.” Seeing her still wavering, Kieran immediately put on a pitiful expression. “I’m still feeling unwell. Can you stay and keep me company?” With those words, he successfully kept Nadia from leaving. I went to the company dormitory, planning to go home after resigning. The company I’m currently working at is Nadia’s. All these years, I’ve worked myself to the bone to bring in business and secure investments for the company, striving tirelessly to realize her dreams. I thought that once her career was more established, we could go home together. Then my parents wouldn’t object to us being together anymore. Now it seems there’s no need for that anymore. I called my mother. Before I could speak, tears welled up in my eyes. Mom didn’t ask anything, just sighed. “My dear boy, you’ve suffered out there.” Like a child who had endured too much hardship finally returning to his mother’s embrace, I broke down sobbing. After I calmed down, I said softly, “Mom, I broke up.” She seemed to have guessed it already, her tone very calm. “If you’re tired, just come home. We’ll always be waiting for you.” Dad jumped up angrily when he heard the news, but was calmed down by Mom. “You calm down. I won’t let anyone who dares bully my son off easy.” My mind felt emptied. I hung up the phone, exhausted. After a few days, I went to the company and submitted my resignation. As soon as I submitted the resignation letter, my phone rang. When I answered, Nadia’s agitated voice came through. “Nash, what are you up to now?” “This project is very important for the company. You need to know your limits. Get back here and entertain the clients right away.” I cut off her words. “I’ve resigned. Find someone else to take over these things.” The other end of the line went quiet for a moment before erupting with even more intense emotions. “You really want to do this, huh?” “Fine, there are plenty of people who can do your job. Don’t think you can threaten me like this.” As if to punish me, Nadia immediately approved my resignation application. She thought I wouldn’t last half a day before begging her to take me back. But a whole morning passed, and I showed no signs of giving in. She started to get a bit antsy. She called my coworkers several times to pressure me. I ignored it all and continued doing my own work. It turns out when you stop caring about someone, nothing they do has any effect on you anymore. After lunch, I returned to my desk to find Kieran sitting in my chair, strutting around like he owned the place. My things had been thrown all over the floor. When he saw me, he slowly stood up. “Nash, this was all Nadia’s idea. She said to have me take over your position.” Then he walked over to me and lowered his voice next to my ear: “Who told you to be so stupid and resign? From now on, I’ll be the one enjoying the good life here.” Seeing his smug expression, I suddenly found it quite amusing. I don’t know where he got the confidence to say he could replace me. All these years, I’ve poured my heart and soul into maintaining this troubled company. Yet he thinks my position here was about enjoying the good life. Well then, I wish him success. Seeing his face fall, I forced a detached smile, took the box of belongings an employee had helped gather, thanked them, and strode out. I spent a few days saying goodbye to friends before bending down to pack my bags. From now on, I would be leaving this city for good. This place held my youth from recent years, as well as my first love that ended without closure. Bitterness welled up in my heart. I closed my eyes, forcing myself not to think about it anymore. My phone rang abruptly, Nadia’s furious voice coming through. “Nash, you’ve gone too far. You deliberately sabotaged things with the business partners, causing Kieran to be ostracized.” Before I could explain, she imperiously ordered me, “Get your ass back here right now. This big deal is crucial for the company’s performance in the second half of the year. If we lose it because of you, we’re finished.” Her absurd yet confident words made me feel truly ridiculous. What gave her the right to think I would still care? “Didn’t you say you’d be fine without me? Then go find someone else,” I said. Ignoring her angry tone, I hung up and blocked her number. Once everything was packed up, I opened the door and set off for the airport, about to say a final goodbye to the city I had lived in for so many years. I had barely left when a silver BMW cut me off. The door opened and Nadia rushed over, violently throwing her bag at me. It hit me right where I had just had surgery. My face instantly went pale as I gasped in pain. “Are you done throwing your tantrum?” she yelled furiously, kicking my luggage aside and grabbing my collar to slap me hard across the face. “Is your heart really that small? Just because the project wasn’t given to you, you had to sabotage it?” I was in so much pain I was sweating, but I gritted my teeth and bore it. “The deal falling through was because of Kieran’s own incompetence. It had nothing to do with me.” Nadia scoffed coldly, her eyes full of contempt. “You think I’d believe that?” “You could close the deal, how could Kieran possibly fail?” “I can see you’re just jealous of his abilities.” I laughed bitterly, my eyes bloodshot. “If he’s so capable, why don’t you just go to him? Why come find me?” On one hand she looked down on my abilities, on the other she wanted me to come back and work for her. Was I really that cheap in her eyes? The partnership she thought was so simple was actually the result of me pouring my heart and soul into it, disregarding my health to fight for it desperately. With one casual sentence, she negated all my years of effort, making all my hard work seem worthless. Nadia’s face cycled through shades of red and purple, looking extremely ugly. Seeing I was about to leave, she forcibly dragged me into the car. “No matter what you say today, you have to come with me.” I was already in so much pain I could barely move. I weakly begged her, “My stomach hurts. Can you take me to a pharmacy first?” She laughed mockingly. “Are you addicted to acting now?” “Even if you’re in pain to death today, you still have to go close this deal for me first.” My fingers had gone completely cold. I clutched my stomach with difficulty, looking at her in disbelief. The woman I had loved for so many years could actually say such things. She could actually watch me suffer to death without batting an eye. Fine. How lovely. Hatred surged in my heart. My eyes turned bloodshot as I stared at her fixedly.

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When the fire started, I saw with my own eyes how my mom rushed into the room to wake up my sister, carrying her on her back and running outside. All I got was a single shout to “Run!” She didn’t even glance at me. I looked downstairs at my dad, who stood there holding his computer, frozen. Then, without hesitation, I ran straight into the flames. “Is there anyone still upstairs?” the firefighter shouted to the group of residents who had escaped. My mom, along with the neighbors, responded quickly, “Everyone’s out, everyone’s out…” Everyone really was out. The five-story building had ten families, a total of 28 people. Twenty-seven made it out. The other was a ghost. I watched coldly as my dad, eyes only for my sister, patted my mom on the back. “You take care of her. I’m going to see if the computer still works.” Mom nodded quickly, her focus on soothing my sister, who was just waking up from the smoke, coughing hard. Even then, she called out to me, “Lily, come help us out.” I really did answer, but my mom couldn’t hear me anymore. When I didn’t respond, she finally turned, searching the crowd for me. “Lily? Lily! Where are you?” Her voice got louder and more frantic, moving from worry to anger, then to confusion. She suddenly grabbed Mrs. Roberts, our neighbor, asking, “Have you seen my younger daughter?” When she got a shake of the head, Mom’s expression changed. She’d frowned at me plenty before, but this time, it was different. She grabbed anyone she could find, her voice rising. “Has anyone seen Lily? My daughter? Anyone?” No one could give her the answer she wanted. Her eyes turned red as she ran toward the firetruck, grabbing the firefighter handling the hose. “My daughter is still inside! She’s still in there! Please, save her!” The firefighter looked panicked, shouting back at her, “Why didn’t you say so sooner?!” Two firefighters rushed into the burning building as I watched. Only then did my sister realize I hadn’t made it out. She stumbled over to my mom, asking over and over, “Lily hasn’t come out yet?” I’d never heard her speak so loudly before, and neither had Mom. Her eyes filled with tears as she hugged my trembling sister, and they cried together. By the time I floated back over from the burning building, I tried to tell the firefighters that I was already dead—that there was no point in rescuing me now. But, of course, they couldn’t hear me. Ten minutes ago, I was alive. Twenty minutes ago, I was dreaming. I hadn’t quite gotten used to being a ghost yet. That’s when my dad finally showed up, holding his precious computer, laughing as he ran. “It still works! We got lucky!” Mom wiped her tears and yelled at him, “Lucky?! Your daughter is still up there!” “What?” Dad looked from my crying sister and mom to the still-burning windows, and then he stomped his foot in frustration. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” “What good would that do? Could you go in and save her?” It looked like they were about to start arguing again, but the neighbors crowded around, trying to calm them down. Some tried to stop the fight, while others comforted my mom or checked on my sister. For once, the neighborhood had never seemed so united. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. The fire hasn’t been burning long. Those firefighters will bring your daughter down in no time.” The neighbor hadn’t even finished speaking when the fire was finally put out amidst the chaos. Mom saw the fire was gone and quickly handed my sister off to the neighbors. Ignoring everyone’s attempts to stop her, she tried to break through the police tape, but just before she could run inside, the two firefighters came out. I felt an intense pull, and everyone, including me, turned to look at the figure one of them was carrying. But it wasn’t quite right to call it a person anymore—it was a charred corpse. When the firefighter laid my body on the ground, I nearly vomited. The crowd gasped, and some even ran away, covering their mouths. My mom started to tremble all over. She fell to her knees, hunched over like she’d never be able to straighten up again. Her hands shook just above my burned body, barely daring to touch me. There wasn’t a single part of me left unharmed. In the silence, broken only by my sister’s wailing cries, my mom looked up at the firefighter who had brought me out. Her mouth hung open, wide and broken, but no words came out. Only after a long moment did a few scattered sobs escape from deep within her throat. The firefighter’s eyes were red, too, as he stammered, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” At those words, my mom seemed to snap back to reality. The tear that had been stuck in her eye finally fell, and she collapsed over my body. From where I floated, all I could see was her shaking shoulders, just like that mother cat I used to see walking her kittens home after school.

My mom refused to let them do an autopsy, and she called a car to take my body straight to Greenwood Funeral Home. Even the funeral home makeup artist, who had seen a lot, was shaken when she saw me. My burns were so severe that there was no point in even attempting makeup. They decided to leave it until the morning, when they’d go out to buy the Funeral Attire for me. My dad was in the security office at the funeral home, smoking. I used to be so proud to tell my friends how my dad didn’t smoke, especially when they talked about how their parents argued over it. It wasn’t until later that I found out he had quit for seventeen years because my sister was a preemie with fragile health. So, when some neighbors and relatives praised my dad for giving up smoking for his daughter, I always felt ashamed—because it had never been for me. But what I didn’t expect was that he’d break his seventeen-year streak for me. He didn’t have any cigarettes of his own. The security guard had given him one after hearing how I’d died in the fire. The old man shook his head in pity, talking about how tragic my death had been, assuming I’d been alone in the house when the fire started. My dad, trying to nod along, ended up choking on the smoke, coughing hard enough that he dropped the cigarette to the ground. He stared at the ember as it slowly died, then collapsed onto the desk and sobbed. My sister was sitting quietly in the corner, folding Paper Memorial Flowers in silence. I sat next to her for a long time, just like we used to sit and watch TV together. For a second, it felt like nothing had changed, like I wasn’t even dead. But the silent tears falling onto her jeans told me we couldn’t go back. I floated over to my mom. She was sitting in front of my coffin, mumbling to herself. “It’s all my fault. You were alone in that fire. Were you scared?… I told you to run, but you stayed behind. How could you not make it out?” Maybe Mom will never know the truth—that I didn’t stay behind because I couldn’t escape. I stayed on purpose. When Mom ran out with my sister on her back, not looking back, I waited, thinking my dad would come for me. I mean, that’s not unreasonable, right? Two parents, two kids. One takes one, the other takes the other. It made sense. But I waited so long and never saw him. When I finally decided to run on my own, I looked out the window and saw my dad, standing still, clutching his computer. A wave of despair hit me like never before. I knew my parents had always loved my sister more than me, but what I didn’t expect was that I wasn’t even as important as a computer. In those few short seconds, I could already imagine how my dad would dismiss me if I ran downstairs and asked him why he hadn’t come for me. “The computer doesn’t have legs, but you do, don’t you?” And if I had asked why my sister got carried out, while I was left to fend for myself, my mom would have given me that same disappointed look. “Your sister isn’t healthy. Can’t you understand that?” In the end, if I’d just stayed silent, quietly standing by their side like I had for the past fifteen years, nothing would have happened. But I couldn’t accept it anymore. I could endure everything for my sister, but I couldn’t live in a world where I wasn’t worth more than a computer. Even if I had to die, I wouldn’t live that way. By the time I realized how terrible that thought was, it was already too late. I had stepped into the fire. I did struggle. I didn’t want to die. But by then, it was too late. I died alone, in agony. In my last moments, I thought of the ACT Exam Results coming out in two days. I remembered how my dad had promised me we’d go out for dinner if I got into my first-choice high school.

None of them—Mom, Dad, or Jessica—slept that night. At dawn, my mom finally wiped away her tears, acting like nothing had happened. She woke up Jessica, who had fallen asleep against the wall, surrounded by folded Paper Memorial Flowers. “It’s cold here. Go upstairs and get some rest.” Jessica opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but in the end, she just stayed quiet and went upstairs. Once the morning light fully came in, Dad walked in with Grandpa and Grandma, who had hurried in from the countryside. Grandma took one look around and asked, “Where’s Jessica?” “She’s upstairs, asleep,” Mom replied. “We should be quiet then.” Jessica’s full name was Jessica Mitchell. My name was Lily Mitchell. But when they talked about their “precious daughter,” they were really only talking about Jessica. When I was in preschool, I used to hear other parents call their kids “baby” or “sweetheart,” and I thought everyone in my class was named “Baby.” I even believed that our preschool classes were divided based on our names. It wasn’t until I was a little older that I realized everyone else had a proper name. I was the only one stuck with just “Baby.” When I asked my mom why I didn’t have a real name, she smiled and said, “Baby is your name.” Back then, I didn’t understand why everyone else could use my name too. I wanted to ask more, to understand, but in the end, I pretended to get it and ran off. By the time I was in elementary school, my name had become my nightmare. The boys in my class started teasing me, calling me “Baby” in mocking voices. Even though I was young, I could tell they were making fun of me. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I tried to bring up changing my name at the dinner table. But my mom just said, “You and your sister together are our ‘precious babies.’ Isn’t that a great meaning?” Before I could say anything, my dad chimed in, laughing, “If you don’t want to be a precious baby, we could call you ‘Little Treasure.’” He thought it was so funny he almost choked on his rice. But I didn’t think it was funny. I didn’t want to be called “Baby” or “Little Treasure.” I wanted to ask why I had to be tied to my sister, why I couldn’t have a name of my own. But I kept quiet. Even years later, when my parents still used “Little Treasure” as a joke after dinner, I laughed along with them. Even though I didn’t find it funny. Even though I knew what it meant to be insulted. I still laughed with them, pretending to enjoy the joke. Looking back, I should have known from the start. My whole life, I was nothing more than an accessory to Jessica. Like buying a six-pack of milk and getting a free yogurt. If the yogurt wasn’t there, no one would care. And if it was, people might wonder if it was just thrown in because it was hard to sell on its own. On the first afternoon after I died, my parents had their first big argument since the fire.

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On New Year’s Day, Aunt Barbara’s entire family taught me a lesson. Her grandson burned my custom-made wedding dress, and her daughter stole my $15,000 diamond necklace. When I demanded compensation, Aunt Barbara slapped me and said, “What do you mean steal? Taking your stuff is doing you a favor!” So, I filed a lawsuit and took her entire family to court. On the day of the verdict, Aunt Barbara got down on her knees and begged for my forgiveness. I just smiled and said, “Forgive you? Taking you to court was doing you a favor.” My name is Emily Shaw, and I’m a designer specializing in custom wedding dresses. After wrapping up a project, I packed my car with gifts and drove home through the night. I finally made it just in time for New Year’s Day. Before I could even park the car, my phone rang. It was my mom. “Sweetheart, could you pick up a pack of chocolates on your way home?” I was confused. “Mom, since when do you eat chocolate?” She chuckled, “It’s not for me. Your Aunt Barbara is here with Zach, and he wants some chocolate.” Hearing this made my temples throb. Aunt Barbara hadn’t set foot in our house since my uncle passed away. Why had she shown up out of nowhere this year? Feeling uneasy, I stopped to buy the chocolate. The closer I got to the house, the stronger this sense of foreboding grew. And sure enough, the moment I opened the door, something rammed into my stomach. I stumbled backward, hitting the doorframe hard enough to make my head spin. Before I could recover, an obnoxious voice cut through the pain. “Worthless brat! Worthless brat!” Zach Wells, all right. At just 8 years old, this kid already weighed a solid 120 pounds. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought a pig had learned to fly. He snatched my bag, dumping everything out onto the floor, frantically searching for the chocolate. “Where’s my chocolate, you worthless brat?” I was too furious to respond, but when I didn’t react, Zach raised his foot, aiming for my hand. “Have you lost your mind?” I jerked my hand back just in time. The lipstick Zach had thrown earlier hit the ground and shattered, its bright red color splattering across the floor. If I had moved any slower, it wouldn’t have been the lipstick breaking—it would’ve been my bones. “I want chocolate! I want chocolate!” Zach’s ear-piercing shrieks overpowered the chatter in the living room. Finally, someone noticed the commotion at the front door. Aunt Barbara was the first to rush over, unleashing a string of curses before she even saw what was happening. “Are you out of your mind? Picking on my grandson on New Year’s!” I leaned against the doorframe, barely managing to stand. “Your grandson ran into me, dumped out my bag, couldn’t find the chocolate, and tried to stomp on my hand. Look at that lipstick—if I hadn’t moved fast enough, it would’ve been my hand!” Aunt Barbara paused for a second, surprised. “Zach, did you break that lipstick?” Zach, still nestled in her arms, boldly replied, “She didn’t give me the chocolate, so I stomped on it! I stomped on it!” I thought to myself, at least the kid’s honest. He admitted it; now let’s see what Aunt Barbara has to say. But once again, she surprised me. Aunt Barbara beamed and patted Zach on the head, “Wow, my clever boy! One stomp and it’s shattered!” I stared in disbelief as she continued to praise her grandson like he’d just won a trophy. I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. Aunt Barbara hadn’t changed one bit from the woman I hated as a child.

The noise in the living room brought the rest of the relatives over. Seeing me clutching my stomach in pain sent my mom into a panic. “Sweetheart, what happened to you?” I answered honestly, “Zach almost knocked me out cold.” Zach, emboldened by the adults around him, raised his chin and spat back, “Shut up, you worthless brat! You deserved it!” The room fell silent. Everyone was shocked that such venomous words had come out of an 8-year-old’s mouth. Aunt Diane gently patted Zach’s head, trying to calm him down. “Zach, you shouldn’t talk like that. She’s your elder.” But Zach wasn’t having it. He burst into tears. “You old hag! How dare you touch me! I’ll have my grandma beat you up!” At that, the house erupted. Even Aunt Diane, who was usually so patient, was speechless. But Aunt Barbara wasn’t even paying attention to us. The moment Zach started crying, she lost it. “What kind of elder is she supposed to be?” “Our Zach is the pride of the Wells family, the only real man left in the bloodline. And you think you, a woman married off, have the right to scold my grandson?” Aunt Diane’s hand trembled in mid-air, her bad heart clearly struggling with the stress. Sensing things were about to spiral, my mom jumped in to diffuse the tension. “They’re just kids, they don’t know any better. Let’s not ruin the holiday over this.” She gave me a look, signaling for me to help out. “Didn’t you say you missed Aunt Diane yesterday? Why don’t you two catch up?” I got the hint and helped Aunt Diane back to the living room. But Aunt Barbara wasn’t about to let us off the hook that easily. She stormed over and started yelling again. “Don’t pretend to be nice! If you’re not going to live long, hurry up and die already! Stop cursing my grandson with your bad luck!” That was the last straw for my mom. She stepped up to Aunt Barbara and firmly said, “Watch your mouth. You can’t just say anything that comes to mind.” “And who do you think you are, acting all high and mighty?” Before Aunt Barbara could throw out more insults, her daughter, Cassie, pulled her aside. For a brief moment, mother and daughter locked eyes, and Aunt Barbara’s anger seemed to simmer down. She sat down with Zach, stuffing his arms with candy like a peace offering. Ah, the magic of New Year’s. As long as no one crosses the line completely, there’s nothing a good “It’s the holidays” can’t fix. My mom led me into the bedroom. When she lifted my shirt, sure enough, a massive bruise covered my back. “Why are we even letting her stay after this?” I asked, frustrated. Mom sighed, “Ever since your uncle passed, life’s been hard for her. Plus, your cousin just went through a nasty divorce, so she’s not in a good place.” “Try to remember how she looked after you when you were little. Don’t hold it against her.” I bit my tongue as Mom went back to the living room to play the gracious host. But the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. When I was a kid, both my parents worked out of town, so I was left in Aunt Barbara’s care. With my uncle always busy, I spent most of my time with her. And all those buried memories, the ones I swore I’d forget, started resurfacing, making me sick to my stomach. I pulled out the chocolate I had just bought and tossed it into the trash without a second thought. She started it, and I sure wasn’t going to let it slide.

When I stepped back into the living room, the first thing I saw was Aunt Barbara sitting on the couch, barefoot, her feet propped up on the coffee table, spitting sunflower seeds everywhere. She was criticizing everyone and everything, bragging like her son was the only successful person in the world, while the rest of us were losers or good-for-nothings. But everyone knew the truth. Aunt Barbara had two kids. Jason had cheated on his wife and lost everything in the divorce, and Cassie had dropped out of high school and hadn’t found a job since. If I were her, I wouldn’t even have the nerve to open my mouth. Trying to keep my cool for the holiday, I decided to just ignore her. But of course, Cassie wasn’t about to let that happen. No sooner had I sat down than she sidled up next to me like a leech. “Emily, that bracelet you’re wearing is so beautiful. Could you give it to me?” I smiled but didn’t respond, instead calling over Buddy, our family dog. He trotted over, and his fluffy head landed right on my lap. Cassie wasn’t giving up. She pointed to my necklace and said, “Emily, that’s a diamond necklace, right? I love diamonds! How about giving it to me as a New Year’s gift?” I calmly stroked Buddy’s head, pretending Cassie wasn’t even there. After failing twice, her fake smile cracked. Raising her voice so everyone could hear, she shouted, “You’ve got so much jewelry, what’s one piece to give me? I bet you could get any man to buy you more in no time. Why be so stingy?” At that point, staying quiet would’ve been too polite. “No matter how much I have, it’s mine. What does that have to do with you?” “Do you think I owe you something just because you want it? Did I wrong your ancestors in a past life?” Cassie was stunned. She clearly didn’t expect me to hit back like that. “Emily, how can you say that? We’re family!” Family? When was that ever the case? I smirked and asked, “Weren’t you the one who said I was nothing but a dog your family raised? Told me to know my place and stay away from you? And now you’re stooping so low as to call me family?” Cassie’s face flushed red, her eyes welling up with tears. “At least… we grew up together. Doesn’t that count for something?” “Grew up together?” Back in elementary school, we were in the same class. She used to force me to do her homework, and if I ever hesitated, she’d run home crying to Aunt Barbara. What followed was always the same—starvation or a beating. One time, I took too long buying her a bottle of water, so she and three of her friends pinned me down and smashed my head against the ground. When blood started pouring down my face, they got scared and let me go to the teacher. Cassie even threatened me afterward, making me say I fell on my own or she’d have Aunt Barbara throw me out to freeze to death. I still have a scar by my left eye to remind me of our so-called “sisterhood.” “Crying won’t work on me. If you want someone to buy you a necklace, go cry to them.”

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“Dad! I… I’m over here!” “Nicky, cover your nose and mouth, stop talking.” By the time my son and I realized the building was on fire, the flames had already spread too far. All we could do was hide in our room. My husband, Ethan Cole, was the one leading the rescue team today. When Nicky and I saw him from upstairs, we thought our savior had arrived. I had texted him the hotel address and our room number before we went on the trip. But when Ethan made it to our floor, he passed right by our room and went straight to the next door—to rescue Allison and Lucas. Nicky couldn’t hold it in anymore. Crying, he asked me: “Mom, Ms. Allie is here too… and Dad only cares about them… Is he going to leave us again? Mom, I can’t… I can’t breathe… it’s too hard…” The room was full of smoke. Nicky was only five years old, and he was starting to lose strength. Frantically, I wet a towel and covered his mouth and nose, hugging him as I rushed to the door. “Ethan! Nicky can’t hold on much longer, please save us!” “Ethan, I’m begging you!” Just this once, could he turn around and look at us? Ethan passed right by our door again. I screamed at him, my voice raw and breaking, but he didn’t even stop. Through the roaring flames, all I could hear was him speaking softly to Allison. “Don’t worry, Allie. I’m here. You and Lucas are going to be okay.” The smoke was choking me, clouding my thoughts. I tried to cover Nicky’s ears, but it was too late. His eyes were filled with tears, and his pupils had already begun to fade. “Why… why can’t Dad ever see me?” “I… I yelled so… so loud…” Cough cough “Mom… I’m sorry I can’t… stay with you any longer…” “In my next life, Mom… please… give me a different Dad… okay?” Nicky’s hand went limp as he finished speaking. My mind went blank, a buzzing silence filled my head, leaving me with nothing but the sensation of nails being driven into my chest, the pain unbearable. I struggled to my feet, clinging tightly to his little body, tears flooding my eyes uncontrollably. “Okay, Mom will listen to you. Just don’t sleep, Nicky. Please, hold on a little longer. Mom’s going to get you out!” Thick smoke was everywhere. I couldn’t even see Nicky’s face anymore. The floor was scorching hot, and so was the door. Flames were eating away at my body, burning me and my son together. How much pain must my baby be in? I sobbed, trying desperately to put out the flames on his small body, but nothing worked. The smoke was overwhelming, and the fire was too big. When I couldn’t walk any further, I crawled. But it felt like the hallway was endless. In the end, it was the other firefighters who came and found us, pulling us out and taking us to the hospital. Ethan brought Allison and her son to the room next to ours. But just like at the fire, with a single wall between us, he never noticed Nicky and me. His whole world was consumed by Allison and her son. The doctors wanted to take me away to treat my burns. I refused. I knelt on the floor, begging them, over and over again, to save my son. “He’s just really tired. He’s only sleeping. Please, save him!” The doctors sighed as they took Nicky into the ER. The defibrillator shocked his little body again and again, but he never opened his eyes. One of the doctors said, “The child suffered a lot in the fire. Don’t make him suffer any more in death.” Yes… Nicky was always so afraid of pain. How could he bear this? I was severely burned all over, so I called my brother, Daniel, to handle Nicky’s funeral and to start the process for my divorce from Ethan. The divorce papers were ready the day I was injured, and I signed them immediately. But I couldn’t reach Ethan. His phone was off—just like it was the day of the fire. Then it hit me. He’d blocked me again. Whenever he was with Allison and Lucas and didn’t want to deal with me, he would block my number. When he was in a better mood, he’d unblock me. I’d put up with this for six years, but at that moment, I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion and disgust. Daniel went to the funeral home to arrange Nicky’s service, leaving just me and a nurse in my hospital room. I asked the nurse to help me into my wheelchair. I needed to go see Ethan next door. I couldn’t stand this ridiculous marriage for even one more second.

The room next door was a private room too. I come from money, and with my monthly salary of $20,000, I never needed to rely on Ethan’s income. With the little he makes as a firefighter, it’s a struggle just to support our family, let alone afford a private room for Allison and her son. They’d barely been singed by the fire, with only some smoke stains on their faces and a few minor burns, but Ethan was doting on them like it was the end of the world. I thought about Nicky’s charred, unrecognizable little body, and my chest tightened so painfully that I could hardly breathe. It’s true, love makes all the difference. “Ethan Cole!” I gritted my teeth, spitting out his name. Ethan turned his head to look at me, the smile on his face vanishing instantly, his brow furrowing. “Rachel, who said you could come in here? Get out!” I wore a hat and mask to cover my burns so I wouldn’t scare anyone. But I was in a hospital gown, sitting in a wheelchair—anyone with half a brain could see I wasn’t in good shape. Yet Ethan seemed blind to that. All he cared about was that I might disturb Allison and her son’s recovery. He immediately got up to push me out of the room, not forgetting to scold me on the way. “I’ve told you a thousand times, Allie and I are just friends. How many more times do I have to explain this? Her husband passed away years ago, and she doesn’t have any family to help. Can you stop being so petty and jealous every time?” I’ve heard these lectures so many times that I’ve grown numb to them. Allison didn’t have a husband, but she had Ethan. I had a husband too, but it felt like I didn’t. When the water pipes in our home burst and soaked through the downstairs ceiling, Ethan was at Allie’s house, changing her lightbulbs, telling me not to rely on him for every little thing. In the end, it was Derek Shaw who helped me. When I got into a car accident, Ethan was with Allie, helping her pick out baby clothes, telling me to stop causing problems. When Nicky had a high fever in the middle of the night and started seizing, Ethan stayed at Allie’s place, comforting her son Lucas, who had been scared by a horror movie, and told me not to make such a big deal. These kinds of things happened over and over again. Looking at Ethan now, standing there so righteously, I felt a wave of nausea. I didn’t even want to waste a word on him. “You sign these divorce papers, and I’ll leave. You won’t have to worry about me bothering your happy little family anymore.” I shoved the divorce papers toward him. But Ethan thought I was just trying to cause a scene. He didn’t take the papers, just said irritably, “When Allie and Lucas are better, I’ll come home. Can you stop with this nonsense?” He always promised me the same thing, but this time, I had no hope left: “If you don’t sign, I’ll have my lawyer take it to court. And by the way, Nicky’s funeral is in six days, you…” Before I could finish, Allison groaned softly from inside the room, “Ethan, it hurts…” “Don’t worry, I’m coming!” Ethan replied urgently, full of concern. Without even asking about his own son’s funeral, he rushed back into the room. I stared at the closed door, feeling like a thousand knives were stabbing me in the chest. I don’t even remember how I got back to my room—just the suffocating tightness in my lungs that wouldn’t let up. Ethan didn’t ask a single thing about Nicky, not even up until the day of the funeral. Even when the service was about to start, the father of the child still hadn’t shown up. The guests started whispering to each other— “Where is the father? Why isn’t he here yet?” “I heard he’s at the hospital with some woman and her kid. That woman’s supposed to be his ex.” “Still, how could he miss his own son’s funeral? That’s outrageous—this was his son!” Everyone looked at me with pity in their eyes. Some people, worried I might break down, came over to comfort me. I thought of all the times Nicky had looked at his dad with hopeful eyes, always waiting for him to spend time with him. It felt like thorns were crawling up my throat, every breath laced with pain. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into the blisters on my palms. The sharp pain was the only thing that helped me hold back the flood of anger. This was Nicky’s final farewell to the world. I couldn’t let it be ruined. I turned to my brother. “Dan, call Ethan. He’s blocked me again.” Dan’s face darkened as he dialed Ethan’s number. He got through quickly. “Ethan, today is Nicky’s funeral. You…” “Rachel, when are you going to stop? Allie and her son are in the hospital with burns and infections, and I’m here taking care of them, doing what’s right. Can you stop being so bitter and seeing everything as dirty? Did you really think you could lie to me about Nicky’s death just to get my attention? Unbelievable.” Ethan was angrier than I was. He hung up the phone right after saying that. No wonder he hadn’t reacted at all when I told him Nicky had died… He thought I was making it up. I’d been accused of being irrational and jealous so many times before, but this time, I was shaking with fury, too stunned to even speak. Ethan had been shouting so loud that Dan, standing right next to me, had heard everything. Dan grabbed the phone from me and sent Ethan a picture of Nicky’s death certificate, then called him again. Each word came out of his throat like a growl. “Ethan, do you see it now? Nicky has been dead for a week. You haven’t shown your face once, and you have the nerve to call yourself his father? Are you even human?!”

Dan had already said everything that needed to be said. Anyone with half a brain would know that Nicky’s funeral wasn’t some sick joke. I thought that once Ethan understood the truth, he would apologize, feel guilty, regretful. But instead, he hung up the phone without a word. He didn’t show up—not even after the funeral ended. I spent the entire service trying to hold myself together. I don’t remember who was there or what they said to me. Nothing registered. All I could do was sit in my wheelchair, staring at Nicky’s gravestone with his smiling picture on it, haunted by the sound of his voice, echoing in my ears. “Mom, it hurts so much!” “Mom, didn’t Dad know which room we were staying in? Then how did he remember Ms. Allie and Lucas were in the room next door?” “I yelled so loud, Mom… Why couldn’t Dad hear me? Mom, are we going to die?” Those words played on repeat, over and over, like invisible threads wrapping tightly around me, trapping me in a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. After the funeral, Dan took me straight to the emergency room. The burns on my body had become severely infected after spending so long outside. I had a high fever, and my mind was foggy, drifting in and out between reality and dreams. All I could remember was someone holding my hand and saying, over and over, “Rachel, don’t fall asleep!” When I finally stabilized and was moved to a regular room, ten days had already passed. Ethan was sitting by my hospital bed, his eyes ringed with exhaustion, his face unshaven. He looked nothing like the man I once knew. When he saw me wake up, his face lit up with relief. “Rachel, you’re finally awake! I…” As soon as I saw him, all the anger, the despair, the suffocating pain I’d been holding in exploded inside me, threatening to crush me. Slap! I sat up, gritting my teeth, and slapped Ethan hard across the face. How dare he show his face here?! His cheek swelled immediately, and his eyes filled with bitterness. “I know I should have gone to Nicky’s funeral. That was my fault. If you’re angry, take it out on me, but don’t keep it bottled up—it’s bad for your health.” Allison stepped forward, her face pale as she dropped to her knees in front of me. With a single blink, tears began streaming down her face. “I’m sorry, Rachel. If you need someone to blame, blame me. Lucas had a heart attack that day, and I was terrified. Ethan was just trying to take care of us, and that’s why he missed Nicky’s funeral.” “This is all my fault. You can hit me if you want, just please don’t ruin your marriage because of me!” Allison grabbed my hands and pressed them to her face. She had pulled this act so many times before, and every time I never knew how to respond. But this time— Slap! I slapped her across the face, and when that wasn’t enough, I slapped her again, harder. “You’re disgusting! Truly disgusting! Out of all the men in the world, you had to go after one that was already taken? Does stealing someone else’s husband make you feel good about yourself?” I was ready to hit her a third time when Ethan, face flushed with anger, grabbed my wrist. “That’s enough! I’ve told you a thousand times, Allie and I are just friends! She’s a single mother with no one else to help her. Why do you have to turn this into something dirty?” I yanked my hand out of his grip. I didn’t even have the energy to argue with him anymore. I just pointed toward the door, full of contempt. “Get out.” “Rachel, how can you treat Ethan like this? He’s only trying to…” Allison still tried to play innocent. I grabbed whatever I could reach and hurled it at them both. “Get out! Both of you!” Ethan looked at me with a complicated expression, but soon, he turned and shielded Allison as they left the room. I used to feel heartbroken watching scenes like that. Now, I just felt numb.

I was raised in a wealthy family, while Ethan Cole came from humble beginnings as a firefighter. We should never have crossed paths. But one night, my best friend, heartbroken from a breakup, dragged me out to a bar to drink. The bar caught fire, and in my most desperate moment, Ethan found me and risked his life to save me. He was handsome and had just saved my life. I became infatuated with him. When I found out he was single, I pursued him relentlessly. It took a while, but he eventually agreed to date me, and soon after, he proposed. Ethan was always a gentle man. He smiled at everyone and never let anyone or anything get under his skin. No matter how strange or chaotic the situation, he always remained calm. When you first met him, you’d think he was an open book—easy to approach. But over time, I realized just how hard it was to truly connect with him. After we got married, Ethan handed over his entire paycheck and took care of all the housework. Everyone said I’d married the perfect husband. But to me, his kindness felt more like politeness. Even when we were intimate, it felt like he was just going through the motions—like a duty. It was as if there was an invisible barrier between us. I thought he was like that with everyone. That is, until Allison came back from overseas after her divorce, and for the first time, I saw Ethan lose control. It was our wedding anniversary, but Ethan took the day off from work to spend it with Allison, and he didn’t even come home that night. That’s when I found out Allison was his ex-girlfriend. They’d started dating in middle school and were together for nearly ten years. They were deeply in love. Their families disapproved, though, and in the end, they were forced to break up. Ethan told me that Allison’s husband had passed away, and she was struggling to raise her child on her own. He was just trying to help her out, and he swore he’d never done anything to betray me. I believed him. And that’s why I lost so completely. I forgot that betrayal isn’t always physical infidelity. After Ethan left, he flooded me with messages—paragraphs of text, one after another. I didn’t bother reading a single one. I blocked his number and his social media and called my brother, Dan, to have him fire Allison from the company. At the time, I didn’t know she was Ethan’s ex. I’d heard she was a struggling single mom, and since she worked in media, I thought I was being generous by giving her a job at my company. Looking back, I’m sure plenty of people must’ve had a good laugh at my expense. The day after Allison got fired, Ethan came storming into the hospital. He was furious, his brows knitted together. “Rachel, if you want to be mad at me, fine! I can handle that. But firing Allie just because I’ve been helping her? You’re letting your jealousy get the better of you. She still has to provide for her son—how could you do this to her?” I stared at him coldly. “It’s my company. I can fire whoever I want. If you don’t like it, feel free to find your precious Allie a new job. I’m not stopping at firing her. Every penny you spent on her while we were still married—I want it back.” Be considerate of Allison? I was. And look where it got me. She was one step away from sleeping in my bed with my husband! Ethan’s face darkened. “Rachel, I’ve told you time and time again—I’ve done nothing to betray you. Allison is my ex, but I only see her as a friend now!” “Friend, friend, friend…” I was so sick of hearing that word. And sick of his self-righteous attitude. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “A friend more important than me and Nicky?!” “Nicky’s funeral was ten days ago, Ethan. If you cared even a little about me and our son, you’d know that he died in room 1217—right next to Allison’s room!” “Nicky screamed for you. He begged for his father while watching you break protocol, ignoring our room so you could save another woman and her child!” “I’m not asking you to favor us over them. But you could’ve at least asked if there was anyone else in the room when you saved them. Or maybe not tell the other firefighters that the floor was clear! If you had, Nicky might still be alive!” I was shouting, hysterical, pouring out all the anger and pain that had been festering inside me. Ethan just stood there, the frustration on his face fading into something dull and lifeless. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His eyes were suddenly full of pain and fear.

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“Jack, I’m taking Emmy downstairs for a bit!” Standing by the door with Emily in her stroller, I took one last look back at Jack, sprawled on the couch watching the game, and silently said goodbye to him in my heart: Rest in peace, Jack. Returning to work after maternity leave, I couldn’t wait to see my baby girl. I gave my manager a quick heads-up and left early to head home. As I approached our front door, voices drifted out from inside. “Don’t worry. She won’t be back for at least another two hours.” That voice belonged to my husband, Jack Hale. “Right. Says the guy who ignored me for half an hour last night to rock his little princess to sleep,” a woman’s voice teased. My mind went blank as I heard Jack soothingly reply, “Once she’s gone, Emily will be your daughter, too. She’s a baby; she won’t know the difference. After all, if you’ve got milk, you’re the mom.” Then, I heard sounds that left no room for doubt. Frozen in place, the devastating truth settled over me. Jack was cheating on me. We’d known each other since high school, growing together from prom to wedding vows. After three years of marriage, our lives had settled into a routine. Jack quit his big tech job earlier this year to open Jack’s Hardware, aiming to help with Emmy after she was born and spare me from solo parenting. I’d cried at his thoughtfulness, and the shop had done well enough that he hired a part-time employee. He’d been a doting partner through my entire recovery. Just last night, we’d been planning our move to the new house we’d remodeled, where the paint fumes had finally aired out. But now, under the searing late-afternoon August sun, reality struck me harder than anything before. Standing outside, I waited until I saw a tall woman with wavy hair strut out of the building. I ducked behind a car, catching my reflection in its window, noting how pregnancy had altered my once-trim figure. I’d always taken pride in my looks. Jack had always said that whether we had a boy or a girl, he just wanted a child of his own. I’d endured countless shots to keep our baby healthy, ultimately blessed with Emmy. At nearly six, I entered our apartment with groceries in hand. Hearing the door, Jack padded out in his slippers. “Hey, hon! I made some iced green bean soup—it’s in the fridge if you want a bowl.” “Sure, I’ll take one.” As I switched my shoes, his words from earlier echoed in my mind: Once she’s gone. Jack wanted me dead. And not only had he cheated, but he was planning to kill me. Somehow, though, my shock turned to an eerie calmness. Over dinner, Jack mentioned his mom wanting to come help with Emmy since I was back at work, and he was juggling the store and caring for her. I thought for a moment, then replied, “There’s only one bed here. When your mom comes, there won’t be space. How about we just move into the new house now?” But Jack hesitated, “I’ll take the couch. It’s summer; I’ll be fine there. You two can use the bed.” I nodded, “Sure, it’ll be nice to have her help.” I’d always found it odd how Jack had been so reluctant to move into the new house, even though it was ready ages ago. Turns out, he’d been planning to get rid of me and move in with her. After Emmy was asleep, Jack handed me an insurance form to sign. He’d mentioned getting life insurance back when I was pregnant, saying we needed to think about Emmy’s future and that this would protect her in case anything happened. So, we both got policies listing Emily as the sole beneficiary. “All right, so if I die in an accident, it’s a million?” I tightened my fingers around the paper. Right then, Carol Wilson, our neighbor, popped by with a few peaches. “A friend of ours brought over a whole box. Too much for us, so we thought of you!” She glanced at the insurance paperwork on the coffee table. “What are you two up to?” “Oh, I’m just talking with Megan about getting a policy,” Jack said smoothly. “Aunt Carol, does it really pay out a million?” I said, feigning innocence. “Jack’s looked at a bunch of policies and keeps bugging me to sign it before prices go up.” Carol’s interest piqued. “Honey, insurance is a pain to pay, but it sure comes in handy when you need it. Just last year, my husband’s cancer was covered under his policy, and we got thirty grand from it.” Jack shot me a look that said, See? “I don’t know much about insurance, but Jack says it’ll give us peace of mind,” I shrugged. “But maybe I’ll study up on it first.” Carol nodded approvingly, “You’re right to think it through. Accident insurance isn’t like health insurance. You’re far more likely to get sick in your life than to get in an accident.” She didn’t notice Jack’s face freeze for a moment as she said it. “Insurance is just a safety net. You never know what might happen tomorrow,” Jack joked, glancing at me. “If I die, at least I’d leave you and Emmy a little something.” I punched his shoulder, “Quit saying stuff like that.” “Don’t tempt fate, Jack!” Carol said, waving us off with a chuckle as she left. That night, I headed to the bathroom. There was a faint humming noise coming from the water heater. Our building was old, built in the early 2000s, and all the units used electric water heaters. Ours was secondhand, bought from the last tenants, and I’d wanted to replace it last year, but we’d planned to move, so we let it be. Holding my toothbrush, I stared thoughtfully at the worn appliance. Back in bed, Jack was scrolling on his phone. When I walked over, he quickly set it face down. On the nightstand, a baby monitor showed Emmy’s crib. “Jack, you really want that insurance?” I asked, raising my voice a bit. Jack rolled over, “It’s a solid policy. I’m telling you…” He launched into a long list of benefits. I yawned, agreeing casually, “All right, sure. Too late now, though. Tomorrow, then.” “Great!” In the dim light, I caught the gleam of excitement in his eyes. The next morning, I headed downstairs for work. Jack hurried out, waving the insurance form, and caught me as I was about to leave. Right then, Carol and some other neighbors walked by, bags of groceries in hand. “What’s the rush, Jack?” Carol asked, eyeing the form in his hand. “Oh, it’s that insurance from last night. He just wants me to sign it,” I said, signing my name with a smile. “Can’t help it; he calls the shots around here. Gotta run—almost late!” Riding away on my e-bike, I caught sight of Jack in my mirror, holding the paper with a grin, even giving it a celebratory kiss. At work, I texted him: Jack, the water heater at home seems off. Can you check it? Ten minutes later, he replied: Sure, babe. Got it. His careless response was exactly as expected. He was probably daydreaming about his life after a million-dollar payout with his new woman, far too busy to worry about an eight-year-old water heater. What causes a water heater to explode? I typed into the search bar, read through the results, and then cleared my history.

At 5:30, Julie, the new intern, noticed I hadn’t budged. “Megan, aren’t you in a rush to get home and see Emmy?” “Oh, Jack’s with her,” I replied, showing the baby monitor app on my phone, where Jack was entertaining Emmy. “I figured I’d stay late and finish up my report.” Julie gave me a wistful smile. “Must be nice! One day, I’m finding a guy who’ll pull his weight with the baby, too!” I just smiled back. Starting today, I wanted everyone to know that Jack and I were the picture of domestic bliss. After wrapping up, I was about to leave when Greg Summers from IT walked over. “Hey, just a heads up—don’t use company computers for personal stuff right now.” “What’s going on?” I asked. “With last quarter’s slump, leadership’s monitoring web use more than usual, like to see if people are shopping or browsing news sites…” Greg trailed off, then asked, “By the way, what’s up with your water heater? Saw you searching about it.” My pulse raced, but I kept calm. Why should I be anxious? It was completely reasonable to check out potential safety issues with an old appliance. “Oh, I saw this video about a heater exploding, and it freaked me out a bit,” I replied casually. Greg nodded. “I think they say to replace them every eight years or so.” His phone buzzed, and he walked away. My fingers shook as I gathered my things to leave. By the time I got home, it was almost eight. Jack was taking photos of Emmy on the couch. When he noticed me, he quickly looked away, seeming almost flustered. “Is that new?” I pointed at the outfit Emmy was wearing. “Yeah, it arrived today,” he set the camera down. “Hungry? Let’s go grab some noodles from that place downstairs.” “When’d you get a new camera? You didn’t mention it.” I reached over to pick it up, flipping through the photos. The quality was so professional; Jack had clearly gotten good at composition. Jack hesitated, “Well, I didn’t want you to think I was wasting money… I wanted to capture Emmy’s moments, you know?” “You could’ve asked me instead of hiding it,” I said, continuing to look through the photos. Jack snatched the camera from my hands. “Hon, you’ve been working all day; don’t get worked up over a small thing. Let me make it up to you. Here, strike a pose for me!” Then, Emmy started fussing. I quickly scooped her up. “Could you take out the trash? And grab us two noodle bowls on your way back?” “Sure.” Jack reached for his phone. “Leave it charging,” I said, pulling out some cash. “Here, just use this.” He shrugged, took the money, and grabbed the trash. The moment he was out of sight, I unlocked his phone—password, Emmy’s birth date, worked on the first try. I’d never felt the need to check his phone before, but now, there was no hesitation. He’d been so sure I’d never intrude on his privacy. One contact caught my eye: “AAA Style Master Linda Cross.” Her latest message read: Hiking’s the easiest way to create a happy little ‘accident.’ There’s no… The rest was hidden, and since Jack hadn’t opened it, I couldn’t read further. But I didn’t need to; the picture was clear enough. With the policy signed, they’d locked and loaded. I placed his phone back and resumed scrolling through the camera, finding photos of Emmy bundled in thick baby blankets. The focus wasn’t even on her, but rather the details of the clothing. Given the summer heat, Emmy’s hair was damp with sweat. When Jack returned, I confronted him, “Why wrap her up like this? It’s over 90 degrees out—she’ll overheat!” He froze, trying to recover, “They’re sending us another one for free if I post a picture with this one.” “So you’d risk her comfort for a cheap promo?” Jack’s anger flared, “She’s my daughter! You think I’d hurt her?” “Relax. I didn’t say that.” I pressed, raising my voice. Jack knocked the camera to the ground, slamming the door behind him. When he finally returned around midnight, he hugged me from behind, whispering, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” I said nothing. He softened, adding, “How about a weekend hiking trip, just the two of us? Mom can watch Emmy. It’s been forever since we had time alone.” There it was: that sickening sweetness, like when we first started dating. Even after years of building a life together, you can never fully know the person lying beside you. “Camping? But I thought you hated hiking?” I asked. “That was back then,” he chuckled, “But now we’re our own bosses with flexible schedules. Hiking’s a good way to stay fit.” “Which trail?” I tested. “Stonehill Ridge,” he said. “I read it’s less crowded, got beautiful old scenery, and is far from the city. They say the air there is amazing.” I nodded, “You really did your homework.” “Of course. I have to make it up to you.” He pulled me close. “We could get a tent and camp under the stars, just like college.” I pushed him back, “Fine. But if we go, it’ll be once your mom’s settled with Emmy.” He brightened, “Done!” The stronger he pressed, the firmer my resolve became. Around 2 a.m., I finished feeding Emmy and went to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, the water heater emitted its usual hum, old and worn. If its temperature controls, overheating protection, and pressure release valves were all damaged, well… anything could happen. I placed a hand under the hot stream, deep in thought.

Jack’s mom arrived a few days later, laden with bags and a crate of fresh eggs. “Well, well, standing there like a bump on a log,” she teased me, nudging Jack with a laugh. “For a new mom, you sure don’t know how to keep busy.” I took her bag, smiling. “Thanks for coming, Marge. You must be tired from the trip.” “Oh, don’t you worry about me,” she said, settling onto the couch with a grin that looked friendly enough but masked a pointed edge. She’d never quite approved of me, probably thinking Jack’s previous tech job could’ve won him a wife with “better” credentials. Jack handed her a cup of water, “Mom, Megan and I are planning a hiking trip this weekend. Think you could look after Emmy for a couple of days?” She muttered, “Yeah, sure, sure. Sounds miserable in this heat, but knock yourselves out.” Later that night, Jack insisted on picking up camping gear, practically glowing with excitement. “We’re just three days away!” he beamed. “Since you got pregnant, we haven’t been out together. You as excited as I am?” “Oh, I…” Just yesterday, I’d set the water heater to fifty degrees, only to find the water scalding when I used it. Its temperature controls must’ve completely failed. “Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it,” I replied. When we returned, Marge had already put Emmy to bed. The next morning, Jack left for the shop, and I dressed Emmy for the day before heading out. Marge, holding Emmy, grumbled about the baby monitor. “Staring at us all night, I couldn’t sleep with that thing on.” She set it on the shelf behind the TV. “Waste of money.” “Sure.” I said, as the doorbell rang. The appliance repairman I’d called had arrived. “Mr. Turner, right?” I stepped aside to let him in and led him to the bathroom. “Our water heater’s been making odd noises, and the temperature’s unpredictable. Could you check it?” He inspected it, knocking on the casing, “How long you had it?” “About eight years.” “Thing’s on its last legs. You’d be better off with a new one. That pressure relief valve’s not working either. This old heater could go anytime.” I feigned shock. “It’s worth maybe a hundred bucks,” he added. “If you decide to sell it, call me.” As he left, I suggested to Marge, “Maybe we should just get rid of it.” “He’s scamming you,” she scoffed. “That heater’s working fine; why bother?” “Let’s just unplug it when it’s not in use, then.” I put on my shoes, ready to head out for work. “Fancy-pants, aren’t we? You make three grand a month and act like royalty,” she sneered. I said nothing, pulling on my sun hat as I left. After work, I realized it had started raining, and I’d forgotten my umbrella. Slick pavement made riding my e-bike treacherous, but I gripped the handlebars tightly, squinting through the rain. Then, out of nowhere, a van careened toward me, and I froze. In those seconds, I felt nothing but terror—and a gnawing bitterness. Why did fate seem to favor Jack? The van stopped just in time, but in my panic, I swerved, crashing onto the sidewalk. Pain shot through my hip, and my knee scraped against the rough pavement. My arms were bloodied and caked with dirt. Bystanders helped me up as the van driver apologized profusely. When I finally got home, Marge was shelling beans, while Jack was scrolling through his phone. He sprang up when he saw my disheveled state. “What happened? Are you okay?” I shook my head. Seemingly relieved, Jack asked, “It’s not too bad, right? This won’t stop us from hiking this weekend?” I stared at him. “What do you think? I can barely walk.” My dear husband’s primary concern wasn’t my well-being; it was whether his plan would still work. As Marge cringed at my scraped knee, Jack stared blankly, as though he’d suffered a blow. I stepped into the bathroom, skipping the shower in favor of a basin of cold water. As I washed my knee, I glanced at the water heater. Bathing would be out of the question until I healed. At dinner, Jack was oddly quiet, lost in thought. Marge handed him a slice of omelet. “What’s on your mind?” “Babe, maybe I should take you to the hospital tomorrow, make sure you didn’t break anything,” Jack said, glancing at me. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on the weekend.” “Yes, that would be good,” I replied. The next day, Jack took me to get my wounds dressed. The doctor warned against letting the injuries get wet. Once back at work, I opened the baby monitor app, expecting to check on Emmy, only to find the screen filled with Jack and that woman, sprawled on my living room couch. They were all over each other, like animals incapable of self-control. Watching Jack with another woman, I felt nothing. But my gaze drifted to Emmy in her stroller nearby, tiny legs kicking in the air, oblivious to the scene around her. The sight made me feel sick. “Oh, there’s something about your place that really gets me going,” the woman purred. Jack, cigarette in hand, replied, “You’re the only one who makes me feel alive. Megan’s a mess now; her body’s wrecked. One look, and I’m done.” “Your daughter’s crying.” “Let her cry. Girls are a hassle, anyway. Just raising her for someone else. So, when are you giving me a son?” “When you get rid of her. Simple as that.” “Last night, I almost smothered her with a pillow,” Jack hissed through gritted teeth. “Can’t believe she didn’t die in that accident.” The screen cut to three loud knocks on the door.

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Because I challenged my wife’s untouchable “white knight,” she sent me to the Crawford Research Institute as an experimental subject. She said I was too consumed by jealousy and needed a small punishment. I was injected with unknown substances, force-fed drugs, given spoiled food, and beaten. After a year of inhuman torment, as she wished, I became obedient. She came as scheduled to pick me up, standing high above, staring at me coldly: “Have you learned your lesson?” A shudder rippled through me as I hastily dropped to my knees, admitting fault: “Master, I’ll be an obedient dog.” But she broke down. ###The harsh sting of slaps yanked me out of unconsciousness, the beeping of monitors a constant background noise. I curled up, my body pulling at the festering wounds, stinking of infection, each movement igniting a pain so intense that even a moan refused to escape my lips. I knew it was time for another injection. Needle marks covered my arms so densely that I couldn’t feel them anymore. I was too weakened by the pain to resist. “Not dead yet? If not, wake up—it’s time for your shot.” The man withdrew his hand, a mocking grin stretching across his face. A pair of sharp pincers dug into one of my open wounds, twisting mercilessly. I screamed, raw and primal. Another set of pincers stabbed into a different gash, silencing me instantly. I choked back the scream that had barely left my mouth. These monsters once told me that the louder I yelled, the more eager they’d be to torment me, pushing until I nearly died. Once, after being injected with an unknown serum, the pain felt like my insides were being torn apart. I screamed uncontrollably. Seeing my frenzied reaction, they grew more excited, injecting me with multiple substances until I passed out from the agony. They’d throw water on me to wake me up and then douse my back repeatedly with boiling water, calling it “artistic expression.” My back would blister, seeping thick, yellow pus. My teeth were knocked out long ago during slaps, and my hearing had been nearly destroyed. After that, I never dared scream again. No matter how excruciating, I swallowed my cries, praying silently, “Pass out soon. If I pass out, I won’t feel the pain.” “Look at you, clinging to life like a pathetic rat!” The man scoffed and kicked me hard in the wound, causing my breath to hitch and my face to go pale. Laughter erupted around me. “Still not dead? Just as we thought—worthless!” “Yes, yes, I’m nothing, just a lowly creature at your mercy,” I knelt and pleaded, echoing their words. Only when I played along did their mood improve, sparing me worse torment. After a year in this place, I’d grown used to such humiliation. When I first arrived, I was proud, defiant. I fought back, clashing with them. But a few enforcers pinned me down, tying me to the experimental table, injecting me with all manner of concoctions. I was force-fed drugs and even live insects. My stomach wrenched with pain every day. Over time, the relentless torture broke my spirit, turning me into an obedient tool. I knew these men were sent by Vanessa Hale, who watched over me through them. It was all her doing. She called me unruly and said I needed to be taught a lesson for challenging Marcus Sterling. So, she sent me here for “discipline.” And so, I endured inhuman abuse. ###

But this time was different. One of the guards pulled out a phone—I recognized it as mine, confiscated when I first arrived. “Your time’s almost up. You finally turned into the obedient dog Vanessa wanted. She said you could talk to her. She’ll be here soon.” The call connected quickly, her voice coming through, cold and void of emotion. “Zachary Monroe, after all this time, do you look forward to coming home?” Tears of relief ran down my face as I dropped to my knees. “Yes, yes, I can’t wait! If you tell me to go east, I won’t go west…” “I’m finally going to escape this place!” Vanessa seemed satisfied with my response and ended the call. The guards, knowing I was about to leave, seemed disappointed that their entertainment was over. They cracked their knuckles and spoke of a send-off. I was stripped and hung upside down at the entrance of the Crawford Research Institute. Every employee who passed by marked their arrival by lashing me with a whip laced with salt and chili powder. The deeper the welt, the bigger the bonus they received. They etched designs into my skin with surgical blades, calling it borderless art. When I passed out from the pain, they revived me with electric shocks, starting the torture all over again. I became nothing more than their toy. The day Vanessa Hale came to get me, they dressed me in the same clothes I wore when I arrived, wrapping my wounds in thick bandages to prevent blood from soaking through. After a year, I finally saw daylight again. I stumbled out of the building. Vanessa stood by her car, dressed impeccably, smoking a cigarette. When she saw me, her expression turned cold. “It’s been a year, Zachary. Have you learned your lesson?” The moment I heard her, I fell to my knees instinctively, knocking my forehead on the ground. “I was wrong, I’ll never go against you again, or Marcus. I’ll do anything you say.” I was terrified she’d send me back here. A fleeting look of surprise crossed her face before a smile appeared. She nodded approvingly. “Not bad. It seems this year wasn’t wasted. You’re obedient now.” “Keep it that way, or back here you go.” At those words, I hit my head on the ground harder, the impact splitting the skin, blood trickling down my face. Vanessa’s eyes showed a hint of disgust. “Get up. Don’t you care that the ground is filthy?” I didn’t. In this place, they’d force me to drink vile black serum, swallow live rats, and choke down concoctions teeming with bacteria and viruses. The mere memory made me retch. Unable to help it, I vomited in front of Vanessa, yellow-green bile mixed with blood spilling onto the ground. Eating those things had left my stomach writhing with pain daily. My body was now just a vessel of poison, ready to burst beyond repair. I sat by the car window, ashamed and distancing myself from her, afraid that my stench would offend her. Her expression softened. “What’s wrong? Stomach bothering you?” ###

Stomach pain was an understatement; my stomach had been corroded and ruined by what they had fed me. I knew all too well the number of times I had vomited blood. “You’ve changed a lot. Looks like sending you there was worth it,” Vanessa Hale remarked as she sat nearby, observing my compliant behavior. My body trembled instinctively. At the Crawford Research Institute, daily beatings were routine. They locked me in with pythons, just to see how much a human could endure before being devoured. If my reactions weren’t up to their expectations, they would escalate to electric shocks, rinse my eyes with pepper spray, burn my chest with searing irons, or let flesh-eating bees sting me until I passed out and needed resuscitation. The mere thought made me shudder, leaving me too scared to even consider disobedience. Perhaps noticing my fearful demeanor and the blood still clinging to my lips, Vanessa’s gaze softened. Her voice lost its harsh edge, turning into a gentle reprimand. “I sent you there to learn discipline, not to destroy yourself. Look at you now, your stomach is in shambles.” She reached out to cradle my face. To me, the gesture was as terrifying as a death sentence. I flinched, nearly losing control, and dropped to the floor, pleading. “Please, don’t hit me! I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll do whatever you say—just don’t hurt me again.” I was like a pitiful dog, desperately begging for her mercy. I wouldn’t dare desire my master anymore. When I was first sent to the institute, they warned me: never look at Vanessa Hale that way again—she belonged to Marcus Sterling. Back then, I was defiant, taking pride in the bond we shared, refusing to bow to anyone. The first round of beatings didn’t break me, nor did the second. But when Robert Lang, her trusted bodyguard, injected me with that vile black serum, my spirit shattered. Under their creative and unending torture, I became an object—a thing to be used and discarded. What right did someone like me have to get close to Vanessa Hale? Her outstretched hand froze midair, her eyes glimmering with anger and confusion. She stared at me, searching for answers in my face. I could only lower my head, unable to meet her eyes. A dog has no right to make eye contact with its master. I understood that well. Yet, Vanessa seemed even more infuriated. Why? Isn’t this what she wanted? To my surprise, instead of taking me back to Hale Estate, she drove me to Sterling Enterprises. Throughout the five years we had been together, she had never allowed me to set foot in that place. Even when I offered to visit, wanting to show support and deliver lunch to assert my position over Marcus, she had shut me down with cold finality. But now, she was taking me there willingly. The company was hosting a product launch, and the employees lined the halls, clapping as we arrived. Marcus Sterling stood front and center. He handed me a bouquet, his smile warm and welcoming. “Welcome back, brother.” That smile sent an icy wave down my spine, my legs trembling uncontrollably. I had seen that face too many times at Crawford Research Institute. Each time, he brought new, creative ways to torment me. The staff at the institute replicated his ideas, filming my screams and delirium as entertainment. “Hmm, not brutal enough.” “What about roasting his back until it oozes, then sprinkling chili powder on it?” “Dead rats are good, too. Should taste interesting.” They’d openly discuss the next method of torture, with no hint of remorse. ###

Vanessa Hale sending me to the Crawford Research Institute as an experimental subject was all because of him. I was her latest fascination, but Marcus Sterling was her “white knight,” holding a permanent place in her heart. So, she believed every word he said. Marcus narrowly escaped a car accident that almost disfigured him. He accused me, claiming I had cut his brake lines simply because his car was parked at the Hale Estate for a couple of days. Important documents went missing from his office, derailing a crucial business deal. The next day, those same documents mysteriously appeared in my room. A few days later, Marcus, with a noticeable limp, approached Vanessa and claimed it was all my doing. He said I had even hired people to beat him up, leaving him near death, almost taking him away from her forever. Vanessa didn’t hesitate; she believed him without question. She froze all my bank accounts and confined me to a room under round-the-clock surveillance. I couldn’t step outside, not even for the bathroom, without being watched. I was furious. It felt like a violation of my basic dignity. When Marcus showed up, gloating and smug, I grabbed a vase and threw it at him without thinking. I never expected him to stay rooted, making no move to dodge. The vase hit him squarely on the forehead. Blood trickled down slowly. The surveillance cameras captured everything in perfect clarity. For the first time, Vanessa Hale lost her composure. Her face was a storm of rage, but her hands were gentle as she touched Marcus’ bleeding head, before rushing him to Mercy Hill Medical Center. This time, there was no defense I could make. Vanessa listened to Marcus’ suggestion and sent me to Crawford for “training.” “You’ve really let me down this time, Zachary. I hope that when you come back, you’ll understand your mistakes,” she said, disappointment written all over her face. In the lab, I endured two brutal beatings before Marcus himself showed up. He ordered the guards to inject me with that black serum and forced a three-day-old dead rat into my mouth, making me swallow it. Then he lifted the mask off one of the guards. I knew that face well. It was Robert Lang, Vanessa’s personal bodyguard—and once mine. So, Vanessa had known all along. I felt my resolve disintegrate, my spirit crushed, leaving me an empty shell. My brokenness drew stares, and Vanessa’s expression grew displeased. She leaned in, whispering in my ear, “Zachary Monroe, I thought you’d changed, but you’re still the same. Do you want to go back to ‘training’?” Fear gripped me, and I almost dropped to my knees. But I realized we were standing at the entrance of Sterling Enterprises—I couldn’t embarrass her here. I swallowed my instinct and stayed upright. To Marcus, the whisper appeared intimate, and a shadow of jealousy darkened his face. He walked up quickly, pulling me into a strong embrace. But it wasn’t just an embrace. He squeezed my wounds with enough pressure to make my teeth clench, cold sweat trickling down my back. I didn’t dare react. Screaming meant punishment—it was instinctual now. Years of torment had hardwired that into me. “It’s all in the past now. Let’s make amends,” Marcus said, extending his hand. I hesitated, and Vanessa slapped my shoulder hard. “What’s wrong with you? He’s offering peace, and you’re standing there like a fool?” Her slap landed right on a painful spot. I felt the blood seeping slowly under my shirt, concealed only by the black fabric. The stumble didn’t go unnoticed by Marcus. He stepped closer, a sly smirk on his face, and punched me in the chest. “Looks like your training paid off, brother. Your chest is as solid as steel—it even hurt my hand,” he said, pretending to massage his knuckles. A muffled groan escaped my lips as I suppressed the pain. My chest, wrapped tightly in bandages, still bore the remnants of four broken ribs from the institute. Vanessa noticed my slight reaction and shot me a sharp glance. “Enough with the act. Get in, now,” she commanded. I followed her unsteadily. This was Sterling Enterprises’ luxury swimwear launch. Models in swimsuits strutted down the runway, showcasing the latest designs. A mischievous coworker called out, “Hey, I heard Mr. Monroe’s been training for a year. I bet he’d look better in a swimsuit than those models! Why not have him show off?” The crowd erupted with cheers. The playful culture of the company often saw employees and even executives participating in shows like this. Panic surged through me. Taking off my shirt meant exposing the network of scars covering my body. Would Vanessa really go that far? To my horror, after a moment’s contemplation, Vanessa agreed. Seeing my reluctance, she cast me a look of disdain before leading me backstage. Marcus, now visibly rattled, stepped in to intervene. “Vanessa, he doesn’t seem too eager. Why not let it go? You know my physique isn’t bad either!” he added, throwing in a wink. But Vanessa wasn’t swayed this time. “Marcus, stay out of this. He trained for a year; I need to see if it made a difference. He’ll be taking over eventually.” With that, she led me back toward the stage. No one saw the fleeting look of jealousy and worry that crossed Marcus’ face. Vanessa’s hand was as soft as I remembered from our early days, back when she confessed her feelings and gave me the hope I had clung to. But now, the warmth only felt suffocating. The memories of a year of torment stripped any comfort they once held. I clenched my fists, yanking my hand from hers. Her expression darkened with irritation. “Zachary, what’s your problem?” “This isn’t for you; it’s to pave the way for the future. Didn’t you once say we should face everything together?” For a moment, a touch of tenderness returned to her eyes. But I was trapped, whispering, “Shouldn’t it be Marcus standing with you for that?” Vanessa’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? I would never—” Before she could finish, I dropped to my knees, bowing my head. “Please, Ms. Hale, I’m just a lowly dog. I’m not worthy of you. Let me go.” “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have crossed Marcus. My jealousy was my downfall. I’ve paid for it. Treat me like the garbage I am and throw me away!” Vanessa’s eyes flared with anger. “Zachary Monroe, I didn’t send you to that place to come back as a broken man. Looks like you’re hopeless.” Her words struck a strange note. Was she saying that sending me there was supposed to be for my good? How absurd. Suppressing the bitter taste rising in my throat, I continued my act. “Yes, yes, I’m worthless. Marcus Sterling is the one worthy of you.” Before I could finish— “Enough, Zachary! You’re insufferable!” I staggered behind them, trying to keep up. This was Sterling Enterprises’ launch event for their new luxury swimwear line. The runway was full of models clad in sleek, high-end swimwear, showcasing the latest collection. Suddenly, one of the more mischievous colleagues shouted, “I heard Mr. Monroe’s been through a year of intense training. From the looks of it, his chest muscles put the models’ to shame. How about Mr. Monroe tries on a swimsuit and gives us a show?” The room erupted in laughter and chatter. Marcus Sterling’s confident expression faltered for the first time, his smile fading. Terror gripped me. Stripping down would mean exposing the web of scars that crisscrossed my body. Would Vanessa Hale really push me to that point, tearing away even this final shroud of dignity?

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Have You Ever Sold Anything on a Secondhand Platform? I’m a dedicated Lolita fashion enthusiast with a closet full of beautiful dresses. Due to the sheer number of styles and new pre-orders coming in, I often sell my older Lolita dresses online. One day while I was at work, my phone buzzed with a message. A user with a blank profile picture commented under one of my listings: “What kind of dress do you want? As long as you satisfy me, I can give you anything.” I immediately blocked him. What a creep. That evening, when I returned to my apartment, I found an opened package at my doorstep. Inside was a brand new “Heavenly Maiden” dress – the exact dress I had been eyeing but couldn’t afford… Looking at the exquisite dress on the floor, I immediately thought of that blank profile from earlier. There have been many such cases in the Lolita fashion community. Girls who love beautiful clothes but can’t afford them sometimes resort to selling their bodies in exchange for coveted collector’s items. This has created opportunities for ill-intentioned people who disguise themselves as wealthy benefactors on various secondhand platforms to prey on vulnerable girls. Why choose secondhand platforms? Simple. Brand new authentic pieces are too expensive for most to afford. But the “Heavenly Maiden” dress before me still had its tags attached, showing no signs of wear! Just then, my phone buzzed with a new friend request on SnapChat. The message attached made my blood run cold: “Did you receive the dress you like? I’m coming to collect my payment tomorrow. Make sure to wear it – I love seeing you in dresses.” The same blank profile picture, the same tone. How did he know I wanted the “Heavenly Maiden” dress? This Japanese version costs over $1000 on the market, considered the holy grail of Lolita fashion. I had never told anyone I wanted it, yet this mysterious person with the blank profile knew! Even more terrifying was the second half of his message. He’s coming tomorrow to collect payment! What kind of “payment” does he have in mind? Is it… me? Just then, I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairwell. The footsteps grew louder. Terrified, I quickly opened my door and secured the deadbolt. Before I could fully lock the door, the footsteps suddenly accelerated towards my apartment. A powerful force pushed against the door, straining the deadbolt. Through the narrow gap, I saw a pair of bloodshot eyes in a twisted face. “Ahh!” I couldn’t help but scream. Pushing back against his brute force, I used my last ounce of strength to turn the key and lock the door. After securing the lock, I collapsed to the floor. The violent pounding on the door continued, each thud hammering my frayed nerves. There’s a security camera in the hallway. With trembling hands, I took out my phone to check the feed. I saw a man nearly 6 feet tall wearing a hoodie and mask looking straight at the camera. He pulled down his mask, flashing an evil smile at the lens. There was a deep scar on his jaw, like an ugly centipede clinging to his neck, making him look sinister and terrifying. Then, he began mouthing words slowly, as if deliberately letting me read his lips. He said: “I want to fuck you.” I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I called my friend Kelly from the Lolita community. When she heard what happened, she immediately offered to come over. “No, I don’t know if he’s left yet. It’s too dangerous for you to come alone,” I said quietly, eyes still glued to the security feed. Kelly on the other end sounded angry but didn’t insist after hearing my strong objection. “Then keep in constant contact with me. Don’t hang up. I’ll bring people to check on you first thing in the morning.” It was already past midnight. Most of my friends were asleep except for night owl Kelly. All I could do was wait for dawn. Suddenly, I noticed some disturbed dust on the table in front of me, along with two cigarette butts smoked down to the filter. I don’t smoke, and I’ve been single for all 24 years of my life. So who do these belong to? My nerves instantly went on high alert. Kelly, sensing my silence, anxiously asked: “What’s wrong? Did something happen, Tina?” My voice trembled as I replied: “A man was in my apartment. There’s cigarette ash on the table…” Just as I finished speaking, the security feed flickered. A marble smashed into the camera, turning the screen to static. The sudden change startled me. My whole body shook uncontrollably. “I’m calling the police!” Kelly said before hanging up. The police arrived quickly. I showed them the security footage I had recorded. Though it was dark and unclear, the prominent scar on the man’s neck was unmistakable. “We’ll investigate and locate this person as soon as possible. We’ll also increase patrols in your area,” the young officer said. I nodded numbly. “Is anyone still outside?” “No.” I followed the officers out of my apartment. The sky was just starting to lighten. Apart from the diligent street cleaners, there wasn’t a soul in sight. “I’m sorry for troubling you,” I said, forcing a smile. The young officer waved it off. “No trouble at all. Call us anytime if anything happens.” I didn’t dare stay in my apartment any longer. Kelly offered to let me stay with her. So, with the officers’ escort, I quickly packed some essentials and moved in with Kelly. The next day passed uneventfully. Just as I was starting to relax, my landlord called, immediately launching into an angry tirade. “Tina! Is this how you treat the apartment I rented to you?” I was confused. “I’ve been staying at a friend’s place. I haven’t even been back…” The landlord hung up and quickly sent some photos on SnapChat. They showed my living room in complete disarray, and even the bedding was torn to shreds. I broke out in a cold sweat. If I had been home last night, would I now be a cold corpse? Kelly saw the horrifying images too and kept trying to comfort me. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re safe here.” Hearing her gentle reassurances, I gradually calmed down, leaning on her shoulder. The police were working quickly to find the suspect, but unfortunately hadn’t made any progress yet. I hadn’t dared go to work for two days, afraid the psycho might follow me and cause trouble for Kelly. But my worst fear came true anyway. That night, Kelly and I had changed into pajamas and were about to go to sleep after finishing a TV show. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. All traces of sleepiness vanished instantly. I instinctively moved closer to Kelly. “Don’t be scared. I installed a deadbolt. He can’t get in,” Kelly said, stroking my hair reassuringly. The knocking didn’t stop. Instead, it grew more forceful. Bang! Bang! Bang! Fists pounded against the security door, the sound like the footsteps of the Grim Reaper closing in through the night. Kelly pulled up the security camera feed on her phone. It was the same man with the ugly scar on his neck. He grinned at the camera, baring his teeth. Then he took out a can of spray paint and scrawled a crude message on the wall: “Don’t hide from me. I love you.” He placed a package at the door, then put on a hat and mask, repeatedly looking up at the camera. Then the phone screen suddenly turned to static as the hallway camera crackled with electricity. Same person, same Lolita dress, same destroyed camera. As the electric crackling faded, my body began to shake uncontrollably. Kelly gripped my hand and placed a taser in my palm. She whispered soothingly: “It’s okay. He can’t get in.” Once again, I didn’t sleep a wink that night. Kelly called the police, but the culprit was highly vigilant and disappeared into the night after destroying the camera. The same young officer came. He looked gravely at the spray-painted message on the wall, then turned to me with a serious expression. “Miss Tina, please come to the station to give a statement. I’ll request additional police protection from my superiors.” I nodded. Kelly stayed by my side the whole time, constantly trying to calm my frayed nerves. At the police station, I slowly regained my composure. The young officer asked a few questions. When he learned that I didn’t know the stalker, he frowned slightly. “If you don’t know him, Miss Tina, how did he get your address?” Hearing the officer’s question, I thought carefully before shaking my head firmly. “I would never give out my address.” Then I suddenly remembered my account on the secondhand sales platform. The blank profile appeared and completely disrupted my peaceful life. I took out my phone, found my account on the platform, and handed it to the officer. “Could it be related to my package deliveries? I have a lot of Lolita dresses at home, so I often sell them here.” The young officer’s eyes lit up when he heard this. He carefully examined my account. With my permission, he transferred the account to the police department’s phone before arranging for someone to take Kelly and me back to her place. That night, neither Kelly nor I could sleep. So she took some beer from the fridge, turned on a comedy on the projector, and snapped a photo to post on her social media. Kelly is a minor internet celebrity who often shares daily life and Lolita fashion photos on platforms like Instagram and TikTok. I grabbed a bottle and slowly sipped it while watching the comedy. Kelly was replying to followers’ comments on her apps. The comedy failed to hold my interest. Feeling bored, I also opened Kelly’s social media to look at the comments and reposts. Suddenly, my finger froze. Among the viewers, I saw an all too familiar blank profile picture. With trembling fingers, I tapped on it. When I saw the bio, a cold sweat instantly broke out on my back. The phone slipped from my hand. Before the screen went dark, Kelly saw the message: “Stop looking. Let me love you properly!” The profile picture was a selfie of me! Kelly’s face went pale when she saw the message. We’re close friends who love taking selfies together when we hang out. So at least a third of the content on her Instagram features me. But this innocent habit between girlfriends had now landed us in such a predicament. I didn’t dare think about it anymore. After sending this account to the young officer, I tried to calm myself down. Kelly quickly deactivated her account without even posting an explanation. An indescribable chill seeped into my bones. I felt like I was going crazy. Every time I closed my eyes, I couldn’t help but picture that terrifying man with the centipede-like scar on his neck. He was advancing towards me step by step. His bloodshot eyes stared at me intently, like a predator eyeing its prey. Lunging at me frantically! When I opened my eyes, I was drenched in cold sweat. Kelly was sitting by the bed, looking at me with concern. “We’re not going anywhere for a while. We’ll stay here until that psycho is caught,” she said. She’s always been gentle and understanding. I managed a weak smile and agreed. I didn’t give much explanation to my company, just using feeling unwell as an excuse to take an extended leave. Kelly is a freelancer who can work from home. To avoid any incidents, we minimized going out. After buying nearly two weeks’ worth of groceries, we locked ourselves in. Nothing unusual happened for the next few days. The young officer also messaged me, saying they had tracked the IP address and would catch the culprit in a few days. A week passed like this. Just when I thought we were finally safe… Early that morning, a coworker I rarely talk to outside of work suddenly sent me a photo. The woman in the picture was seductive and alluring, with a curvaceous figure and fair thighs spread wide open as if inviting sin. Then, like a floodgate opening, more and more explicit photos came pouring in. Various poses, all designed to inflame desire. Most importantly, the face in the photos… Was mine. Seeing the photos, I felt like I had been doused with a bucket of ice water. My coworker’s messages kept coming: “Is this really you in the photos?” “I never knew you were so wild.” “How much for one night? 200 bucks for the whole night, what do you say?” Fighting back nausea, I blocked him and broke down crying. As a Lolita fashion enthusiast, I’m quite the selfie expert. But I would never take photos like these. Someone clearly used my photos for malicious photoshopping! There had been no trace of that man for a week. But I was certain – it must be him! Messages on my phone kept pouring in. I steeled myself to look at the screen. It was from my manager. “Tina! I didn’t say anything about your extended leave, but now you’re bringing your private affairs to tarnish the company’s reputation? What are you trying to do?” “Don’t bother coming back. Go to HR to collect your final paycheck and get out!” Each message felt like a tidal wave, shattering my already broken heart into even smaller pieces. It was as if the last shred of dignity covering me had been ripped away, exposing my raw wounds to the air, making my whole body ache and tremble with pain. Kelly heard the commotion and rushed over. When she saw those photos, her face grew very serious. As my best friend for three years, she of course knew I had never taken such photos. But it didn’t matter. The rumor mill is unstoppable. When she accompanied me back to the company to collect my things, All my coworkers kept stealing glances at me. Those looks… Contempt, boldness, disgust. Even some usually quiet male colleagues came up and lewdly asked if I was available. Kelly kicked that guy away and escorted me out of the company. After going through so much, my nerves were completely shot. I became afraid of sunlight and didn’t dare go out. I stayed home all day, staring blankly at the walls. Kelly understood my changes and patiently kept me company. My sleep quality plummeted. I couldn’t sleep for nights on end. Another sleepless night. I walked out of the bedroom to get some water from the living room. The pale moonlight shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows cast an eerie glow on the living room. I didn’t turn on the lights, following the moonlight to find the water dispenser. Suddenly, a clothes hanger fell from the balcony. Ding. At that moment, a dark shadow blocked the moonlight in front of me. That shadow… was a person! My heart started racing uncontrollably. My hand holding the glass began to shake. Accompanied by the crisp sound of glass shattering on the floor, I slowly raised my head. The shadow instantly blocked all the moonlight. In the darkness, our eyes met. His eyes glinted with a predatory light. In the faint moonlight, I vaguely saw his face. One glance was enough to make me scream at the top of my lungs! The man was clearly startled by my scream. Then, he dove off the balcony! My terror froze in an instant. Kelly heard my scream and rushed out of the bedroom in a panic. Still in shock, I recounted what had just happened. She turned on the lights and grimly led me to the balcony, where we saw dirty footprints. Kelly sucked in a sharp breath. “I live on the 12th floor.” To preserve evidence, we didn’t clean up the footprints. Instead, we called the police to handle it. Normally, jumping from the 12th floor would result in hitting the ground within five seconds. The impact of a body hitting the ground would make a dull thud, but I hadn’t heard any sound. Could someone actually fly? Learning from the two previous incidents, the police responded very quickly. They also brought good news. “We’ve identified the person who’s been stalking Miss Tina,” said Officer James, spreading out the collected information in front of me. His face showed visible fatigue, but couldn’t hide his joy. “His name is Eric Lee. He was imprisoned three years ago for attempted assault and released last year. He has a criminal record.” “He’s an orphan who usually makes a living through robbery and scams. I tracked the account you gave us and found that you always ship packages from near your home.” “Coincidentally, Eric lives in the same city as Miss Tina, so he staked out the shipping locations, disguised himself as a delivery man to enter your complex and scout it out, and finally determined your home and work addresses.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295011”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #魔幻Magic #重生Reborn #校园School #惊悚Thriller