Category: English

The new colleague, trying to establish her cute and naive persona, posted screenshots of my and other employees’ Valentine’s Day gift posts from Instagram to the company’s main group chat. “Ladies who showed off their gifts yesterday, time to take your morning-after pills!” she wrote, adding a giggling emoji. The male colleagues immediately followed up with a string of lewd emojis. Afterwards, my coworkers and I faced varying degrees of harassment. Others were forced to resign, while she played the victim, saying, “I’m just a bit straightforward.” As for me, I was stalked and brutally murdered on my way home from work. When I opened my eyes again, the new colleague was still tagging me in the group chat. “Why isn’t Lydia saying anything? Is she too exhausted to get up?” I let out a cold laugh and replied, “I’m busy planning your funeral.” My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. I snapped back to reality and looked at the messages flooding the company group chat. Chloe, the new girl at the office, had posted a series of screenshots from Instagram. Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, and all the women in the office with boyfriends had posted pictures of their gifts on Instagram. I had also shared a photo of flowers from a good friend. Chloe had compiled all these screenshots and shared them in the company’s main group chat, followed by a message: “Ladies who posted gift pics yesterday, time to take your morning-after pills!” She even added a giggling emoji. Someone immediately jumped in to reply, “Wow, looks like all the pretty girls in our company are taken.” The conversation started normally but quickly veered off in an unsavory direction. Chloe asked in the group, “Why is everyone so quiet?” By “everyone,” she meant us girls who had posted. A male colleague sent a leering emoji with an ambiguous comment, “They must be busy, I guess.” Soon, other male colleagues followed suit, flooding the chat with suggestive emojis. Someone asked Chloe, “Hey Chloe, we didn’t see you post anything on Instagram. We’re all curious about what your man looks like.” Others chimed in agreement. Since joining the company, Chloe had been marketing herself as a ditzy beauty. She would complain to people, pretending to be troubled, about how she had too many admirers in college and no personal space. She claimed guys would constantly confess their love under her dorm building, persisting even after rejection. In her stories, she had always been the prettiest girl in class, often voted as the class beauty. She’d wave her hand shyly and say, “It was just my classmates joking around. Take it as a funny story.” Plus, she was eager to make friends, adding almost half the company on social media, and her Instagram was full of sexy photos. Soon, male colleagues started jokingly calling her “the beauty.” Each time, she’d coyly deflect for a bit before accepting the nickname. Now, when asked about her love life, she sent a shy emoji. “Oh, no one’s pursuing me. Where would I find a boyfriend?” “Chloe, with your figure and looks, you’ll definitely find someone,” someone replied. “Yeah, some lucky guy is going to snag you up one day.” After a round of compliments, she finally spoke up. “Let’s not talk about me. Where’s Lydia? Why isn’t she saying anything?” “Is she still tired from last night?” she added, tagging me. Someone chimed in mischievously, “Lydia’s quite the looker too. I bet her man had a good time last night.” Chloe pretended to be angry, “What are you guys saying? There are ladies present!” Under her guidance, the group chat devolved into a sea of lewd comments, gradually spinning wild tales about us. A younger colleague messaged me privately, almost in tears, “Lydia, what should we do? I just had dinner with my boyfriend, but they’re making it sound so dirty!” Looking back at the group chat, it had turned into a frenzy centered around Chloe. I smirked and scrolled up to reply to the message that tagged me. “I’m busy picking out your grave.” The group chat suddenly went quiet. Two seconds later, Chloe sent a hurt emoji. “Lydia, I was just joking. Don’t be so mean.” “I’ll apologize if I have to,” she added in a voice message, her tone tinged with a sob, sounding quite pitiful. Others immediately jumped to her defense, turning on me. “Chloe was just trying to lighten the mood. Lydia, aren’t you making a mountain out of a molehill?” “Yeah, Chloe’s always been respectful to you. You’re being way too harsh.” “Lydia, that was uncalled for. You should apologize to Chloe.” Seeing how protective everyone was of her, my anger flared up even more. It was because of people like this that I and other female colleagues met such a terrible fate in my previous life. Chloe quickly tried to mediate, “Don’t defend me, guys. It’s my fault for upsetting Lydia. If she wants to scold me, I’ll take it.” “Thanks for having my back, everyone. I’ll treat you all to bubble tea when we’re back in the office,” she added, her voice soft and slightly nasal, dragging out the last syllable like a spoiled child. This made the male colleagues even more hostile towards me, comforting Chloe while criticizing me. “This isn’t your fault, Chloe. Lydia, I call you ‘Miss’ out of respect, but if you’re going to be like this, you’re losing everyone’s respect.” “Chloe didn’t mean any harm, Lydia. Don’t blow this out of proportion. It’s making everyone uncomfortable.” Their self-righteous comments made me sick to my stomach. I had joined the company right after graduation and worked my way up to my current position. Knowing how tough the journey was, I always tried to give new employees some guidance, hoping to help them avoid unnecessary pitfalls. People in the company called me “Miss Liu” not just because of my seniority, but because I had helped most of them in one way or another. But now, with just a few words from Chloe, they were turning on me. Some were even trying to use this opportunity to ask Chloe out. Didn’t they think she was just an innocent, ditzy beauty? Didn’t they believe Chloe’s words had no ill intent? Well, it was time to expose her true colors. “Chloe, everyone was just celebrating Valentine’s Day. Didn’t you and Jack book a hotel room?” “Why didn’t you show off the flowers and engagement ring Jack gave you?” My words sent the group chat into a frenzy, especially those who had been defending Chloe earlier. They seemed particularly agitated. “Chloe, didn’t you say you were single and spent Valentine’s Day alone?” “Jack’s proposing to you? When did you two start dating?” “Chloe, you turned me down when I asked you to hang out, saying you were worried about rumors. Was it because you were worried about Jack?” The most anxious were the male colleagues who had frequently asked Chloe out, only to be turned down with various excuses. Yet, she would still text them “goodnight” every day. Chloe hurriedly explained, “Jack just called me out yesterday saying it was urgent, so I met him briefly. There’s nothing between us, we’re just coworkers.” “You guys know who I’m closest to, right?” she added coyly. Seeing her stubborn denial, I dropped another bombshell. “Oh really? Last Saturday, I saw you two kissing in the stairwell. I thought you’d been together for a while. So you’re just playing around?” I feigned disappointment, “Poor Jack. He really likes you and wanted to propose on Valentine’s Day.” Chloe had always portrayed herself as popular but chaste at work. Despite having many admirers, she claimed to be single. She would always smile and say, “I just haven’t met the right person yet.” If pressed, she would blush and say, “I’m not comfortable with intimate contact with guys.” Playing the role of an innocent flower. This act had both single and married men in the office wanting to pluck this flower. Now, she either had to admit she had been secretly dating Jack, or confess to fooling around, exposing her promiscuous private life. Chloe was cornered, stammering and unable to respond. I understood her dilemma. After all, I knew her type. How could she continue to string along other men if she had a boyfriend? She wasn’t about to give up her harem of male admirers. After a few minutes, Chloe sent a series of messages. “Stop pressuring me. I didn’t say anything before because I was afraid you’d distance yourselves from me.” “I’m new to the company, and you guys are the only ones I’m close to. I didn’t want to lose you as friends.” “I know you probably won’t talk to me anymore after this. Thanks for taking care of me all this time.” After leaving these messages, she left the group chat. She was indeed skilled with words, painting herself as a victim of circumstances, while making the men she had been stringing along look inconsiderate. For a moment, they started blaming themselves for not being gentle enough, driving Chloe away. Watching them scramble to comfort Chloe, I couldn’t help but scoff. When Chloe first joined the company, the other women in our team were quite helpful to her, always ready to lend a hand. Now in her version, those male colleagues who brought her coffee became her only friends. Chloe had been juggling multiple male colleagues, and I had been aware of it all along. I never interfered because it was their personal business. But my negligence towards her behavior led to my tragic death in my previous life. In my previous life, it started just like this. Early in the morning, Chloe was spreading gossip about me and other colleagues in the group chat. I rarely checked the company’s casual chat groups. I just frowned and exited after a quick glance. However, the situation escalated rapidly afterward. Chloe, under the guise of joking, started spreading lewd rumors about me and others with the male colleagues. Soon, I began to feel hostile gazes in the office. Those male colleagues would openly ogle my body, and I could faintly hear their hushed conversations and snickers. “I never noticed before, but Lydia’s got quite the figure.” “I heard from Chloe that Lydia had several boyfriends in college. I guess that’s how she got that body, huh?” “Man, if I had known, I would’ve tried harder to get into Lydia’s college. What a missed opportunity!” Given my position in the company, I caught them and sternly reprimanded them. After that, they didn’t dare to be so blatant. Things seemed to calm down for a while, but then a young girl came to me asking to resign. When I asked her why, she broke down in tears in front of me, insisting on quitting without giving a reason. Seeing her distress, I approved her resignation. After that, more people came to me wanting to quit. Within a month, four employees had left. I finally realized something was wrong. After inquiring with other colleagues, I found out what they had been through. The other employees didn’t dare to act up in front of me, but they were ruthless towards the younger staff. Ever since Chloe started spreading rumors about them in the group chat, they had been constantly harassed. People would add them on social media and pester them, and some would even make lewd comments when they met in the office. Unable to bear it any longer, they locked their Instagram accounts and blocked friend requests, but they couldn’t stop the rumors from spreading. Chloe played a significant role in this, mingling with the male colleagues daily and gossiping about the women in the department. Some even went as far as contacting their boyfriends, discussing their private matters. This led to breakups, and their life at work became unbearable, forcing them to resign. They were all promising employees with bright futures in the company, and just like that, their careers were ruined. When I found out, I was furious and immediately confronted Chloe. However, Chloe put on an innocent face and said, “I’m just a bit straightforward. They asked, and I answered. How was I to know they were so fragile?” I was so angry I could barely contain myself. I sternly warned her that if she dared to spread any more inappropriate gossip in the company, I would fire her on the spot. She pouted and reluctantly agreed. However, that evening as I was leaving work, someone suddenly covered my mouth and nose. The person dragged me into a car parked in a corner of the parking lot. Reeking of alcohol, he tore at my clothes while cursing. “Damn it, we’ve all heard about your dirty little secrets. Stop pretending to be a prude!” He slapped me hard across the face and spat. “You’ve been working here for a few years and think you’re all that, huh? You even dare to scold Chloe? I’m gonna teach you a lesson today and get revenge for Chloe. I’ll show you who you can’t mess with!” Amidst his vulgar words, I realized Chloe had held a grudge against me. That night, she went out drinking with some male colleagues, crying and telling them I had insulted her. One of them, drunk and angry, immediately slammed the table and came to the company parking lot to ambush me, wanting to avenge her. I struggled desperately, but he grabbed my head and repeatedly slammed it against the car window, all the while yelling about getting revenge for Chloe. Amidst the intense pain, I gradually lost consciousness. Remembering my past life, a fire of anger burned in my chest. Chloe, I won’t let you off the hook this time. This time, I paid close attention to the gossip in the company and fired anyone who harassed female colleagues. As a result, no one resigned. There was an afternoon meeting, and other employees had already arrived early. Before entering the conference room, I paused for a couple of seconds at the door. Sure enough, I could hear Chloe’s voice from inside. After this incident, other female colleagues avoided her, afraid of being the subject of her gossip. At this moment, male colleagues surrounded her in the conference room, with Chloe sitting in the center, chatting and laughing. Others were complaining to her about how I had become too harsh lately, unlike her gentle demeanor. “Lydia must be going through menopause. I heard her husband has been out of town lately. It must be tough for her alone, we should be more understanding,” Chloe said. I had never dated, let alone gotten married, yet she spoke as if she knew everything. She smiled mysteriously, and the others immediately caught on. “I’m younger than Lydia, so naturally, I have a better attitude. If you guys get scolded by her, you can come to me for comfort,” she said, winking playfully. “We’re good friends, after all.” Thinking of the photos I had received, I couldn’t help but smirk sarcastically. If only they knew what kind of “good friend” she really was. I pushed the door open, and the room instantly fell silent. I didn’t even glance at them and directly announced the start of the meeting. When it was Chloe’s turn to present, she wore a short skirt that barely reached mid-thigh, and her stilettos made her legs look long and slender. Many male colleagues were staring intently. Chloe blushed and smiled, about to begin. Suddenly, the screen changed. Instead of her PowerPoint, it displayed a series of WeChat screenshots. The screenshots were all conversations between Chloe and male colleagues from the company. “Chloe, how’s your workout at the gym going?” Chloe had directly sent a sexy leg photo in response, “My legs are so sore.” She had sent these kinds of photos to everyone – black stockings, maid outfits, chokers, you name it. There were even videos. In the videos, the camera focused on her upper body, clearly showing her chest heaving. Her words were soft and breathy, perfectly arousing men’s desires. As you scrolled further, whatever the men asked for, she sent. The content became increasingly explicit. She also happily accepted large sums of money transfers from them, sweetly replying “Thank you, daddy.” It was impressive how she could call even 40-something-year-old men “daddy.” Chloe’s face turned pale. She frantically pressed the remote control, trying to turn off these images. However, the projector seemed to malfunction. The more frantically she pressed, the faster the images changed. The later photos were simply unbearable to look at. The conference room erupted into chaos.

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Chase and Marla had twins, and their bias toward their son meant they left their daughter Harmony completely neglected. In my past life, Mom couldn’t bear seeing Harmony burning with fever and passed out, so she brought her over to me, saying, “You make good money, and since you don’t plan to marry, take her in.” Pitying my niece, I agreed to raise her as my own. Despite pouring all my resources and energy into her, when she grew up, she aired her grievances online, saying I was controlling, that my love was suffocating, and that I wouldn’t even let her stay over at a friend’s house. Egged on by strangers, she rebelled and ran away to a friend’s place, where her friend’s brother assaulted her. When I wanted to report it, she cried and said it would ruin her reputation, and she cut ties with me to stay with her abuser. After they married, she was abused by him and mistreated by her mother-in-law. Over time, she became resentful and convinced him to kill me. He went to prison, and she finally had her freedom—lavishly living off my inheritance. Now, with a new chance at life, I won’t make those same mistakes. My heart has hardened; I’ll live solely for myself. Content

“Quinn, your niece has a terrible fever—she’s burning up! Come back and help me take her to the hospital!” Hearing my mom’s words, just as in my past life, I knew I’d been reborn. I vividly remembered my future niece, Harmony, standing there, watching her violent husband stab me over and over. I’d always been terrified of pain, but even so, I was covered in wounds, blood everywhere, the pain unbearable, and the biting chill seeped to my bones. Taking a deep breath, I steadied my tone and responded as calmly as possible, “Mom, if Harmony’s that sick, where are Chase and Marla?” “Your brother’s at work, and his job isn’t flexible. Marla’s with Tyler and can’t leave him.” I wasn’t the least bit surprised by this. My brother and his wife, with their favoritism, had never given their daughter a thought. In my past life, when my mother had called me in distress, I’d left work immediately, driven back to Pinegrove County, and rushed my niece to the hospital. I stayed days to care for her as she recovered. When Harmony was discharged, the doctor told us, “If you’d brought her any later, the fever might’ve caused brain damage. You were lucky to get her here in time.” Thinking about how Harmony eventually repaid me for raising her… This time, I wouldn’t get involved.

“Mom, I’m out of town on a work trip. I can’t get back quickly, so you should call Chase and have him take her to the hospital.” My response left Mom frantic. She ignored my suggestion about calling my brother and instead asked, “Well, how soon can you come home?” I already knew Mom had a strong preference for my brother, but I never thought she’d prioritize his $3,000-a-month job over her granddaughter’s urgent medical needs. And now, she expected me to drop my own work trip to get back? I held back my frustration and replied, “Mom, I’m far away on this trip, and flights are full. It’d take me eleven hours by train, and then three more hours of driving just to get to the county. Besides, this trip is important, and if I leave now, I might lose my job. And then I wouldn’t have any money left to help with your living expenses.” Hearing that my delay could affect her monthly allowance, Mom finally dropped the idea of me taking Harmony to the hospital. “Fine, I’ll wait until your brother gets off work, and we’ll take her together. But when you’re done with work, come visit your niece.” I agreed and hung up, feeling icy inside. In my mom’s eyes, “looking after Harmony” meant using the poor child as an excuse to drop the three-year-old on me, claiming, “You have a good salary; you can afford a nanny. Since you aren’t getting married, treat her as your own daughter—at least you’ll have someone to care for you when you’re old.” Years ago, I did tell my family I didn’t plan on marriage. When I was nineteen, they’d pushed for an arranged match, but I knew marriage would mean a life revolving around a man and children, losing myself in the process. So I told them I wasn’t interested and would focus on my career. Initially, Mom resisted, but when she realized marriage would end my financial support to her, she stopped pressuring me. In hindsight, Mom’s kindness over the years was purely because I still had financial value. She never cared about me otherwise, or she wouldn’t have dumped her “burden” of a granddaughter on me. Later, when I was thirty and considered dating, she convinced me to think of Harmony’s feelings. Harmony, looking so pitiful, had pleaded with me not to “leave her behind.” I’d felt for her, and, not being one for romantic ties, I never married. I raised Harmony like my own daughter, yet ultimately, she took my life.

After hanging up with Mom, I requested a work trip and left immediately, returning only a week later. During that time, Mom called me repeatedly, stressing Harmony’s critical condition. Each time, I’d ask, “Where are Chase and Marla?” Her parents couldn’t be bothered to tend to their sick daughter, so why should I, the aunt, bear the burden? Mom would cover for my brother, saying, “Your brother’s job doesn’t allow time off, and Marla’s busy with Tyler.” I’d excuse myself, claiming meetings, and hang up.

After a week in the hospital, Harmony was discharged with mild meningitis, likely from the prolonged fever. The doctor said her brain might have suffered some cognitive impact, but only time would tell. After returning from my trip, I made a brief stop in Pinegrove County, bringing fruit and milk for her. Before I left, I handed Marla a cash envelope in front of my mom and brother, maintaining a polite and generous demeanor. I stayed just long enough to avoid any complaints, leaving before Mom could ask about adopting Harmony. Three days later, Mom called again, saying she’d bring Harmony to Brookdale City for a visit over the weekend. I knew what was coming and had a plan.

It was a beautiful spring weekend when I picked up Mom and Harmony from Pinegrove Central Station. Growing up neglected, Harmony had become timid and overly sensitive; after her illness, she seemed even more withdrawn. Since Mom rarely visited, I made sure to play the role of a gracious host, taking them to a nice restaurant and booking a hotel for the night. Mom had wanted to stay at my apartment, but I politely declined, saying I only had one bed. After working for six years, I’d saved enough to buy a small one-bedroom apartment in Brookdale outright, and I never told my family about it until long after moving in. I knew that once Mom found out I’d saved for a house, she’d find ways to drain my funds, saying it was “for safekeeping.” But that “safekeeping” would ultimately go to Chase, so I pretended I’d only been able to afford a “mortgaged” apartment.

After two days of hosting, as I prepared to take Mom and Harmony back to Pinegrove County, Mom finally spoke up. “Quinn, Marla can’t manage two kids on her own, and it’s pitiful that Harmony was left uncared for with that fever…” I interrupted, “Mom, isn’t Harmony staying with you?” “Come on, as her grandma, I’ll do my part, but why can’t you help Marla out by looking after her?” Mom scoffed, “That’s impossible!” Realizing her response was too blunt, she quickly softened her tone. “My age is catching up with me, Quinn. I can help for now, but soon my back and legs will give me trouble. Harmony would do better in the city with you; you make good money, and she’s had it rough in the county.” She considered everyone’s needs but my own. I shook my head. “Mom, you can’t look after her, and I have a full-time job.” “Well, you can afford a nanny, can’t you? If Harmony lives with you, you can treat her as your own daughter. Besides, since you aren’t getting married, she’ll be there for you as you age.” I bit back a laugh, her suggestion too ironic. In my past life, following her words had led me to my death. I interrupted her, “Mom, just because I’m not planning to marry doesn’t mean I don’t want a family.” She looked at me, puzzled. “I’m not getting any younger,” I continued, “and last month, I went through with IVF. In a few months, I’ll have my own child, so I don’t need someone else’s to take care of me.” It was like I’d dropped a bomb, leaving her visibly shaken. After a moment of stunned silence, she stammered, “Something this big…why wouldn’t you discuss it with us?” Discuss? If I’d told them, they would’ve fought it every step of the way. My family didn’t see me as a person; to them, I was a tool. Ignoring her shock, I stated firmly, “Mom, I’ll soon have my own child. Don’t bring up adopting Harmony again.”

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I never thought my dad, the leader of our local search and rescue team, would find my bones buried in the snow during a training exercise. He immediately called my adopted sister Natalie to cancel her upcoming hiking trip, citing safety concerns. One of his team members reminded him, “Hey Trevor, shouldn’t you call your younger daughter Hazel too? I heard she was planning a hike as well.” But my dad’s face darkened as he snapped, “Why bring up that good-for-nothing? I hope that murderer dies out there!” Little did he know, I was already dead. Those broken bones they just uncovered? They were my remains. Yet my own father couldn’t even recognize his daughter’s bones. “The bones show signs of blunt force trauma and are incomplete,” observed one of the experienced officers at the scene. “This doesn’t look like an accident. It appears to be a homicide.” My dad nodded gravely, promising to search for any remaining bones. Before they began, he pulled out his phone to call Natalie, my adopted sister. “Sweetie, there’s been a murder on the mountain. Cancel your hiking plans and don’t go out for a few days, okay? Stay safe.” “Okay, Dad. I’ll be careful,” Natalie replied sweetly. My dad fussed over her for several more minutes until she playfully complained her ears were getting sore from all his warnings. After he hung up, one of his team members spoke up. “Hey Trevor, didn’t your younger daughter Hazel mention going on a hike soon too? Maybe give her a call as well?” My dad’s face instantly darkened. “Why bring up that monster?” he spat. “That girl killed her own mother. I hope she dies out there!” Though I was already dead, I felt an icy chill run through my non-existent body. So this was how much my father hated me. But if he hated me so much, how could he not recognize these pitiful bones as belonging to the daughter he despised? The search continued for a full day and night. The rescue team combed every inch of the mountain. My dad worked for 48 hours straight without sleep. But they found very few remains. When the police came to question my dad, his expression was even grimmer than before. “We’ve searched the entire mountain and only found one leg bone,” he reported. “I suspect the victim was dismembered and the parts scattered.” The officer looked shocked. “So the killer may have disposed of the remaining bones elsewhere?” “Not just bones,” my dad clarified. “Other body parts too. Remember, we’ve only found one leg bone so far.” “This was an extremely brutal murder. The killer is far more vicious than we initially thought.” The officer absorbed this information silently before replying, “I’ll call for more manpower and expand the search area.” Just then, a team member discovered a necklace hanging from a tree branch and brought it over. My spirits lifted at the sight of it. That necklace was a birthday gift from my dad three years ago. Surely he would remember! I eagerly awaited the moment my dad would recognize it and finally realize it was me. But his eyes barely glanced at the necklace before handing it to the officer, saying it might be a personal effect of the victim. He suggested taking photos to post online in hopes of identifying the deceased’s family. The team member who found it hesitated before speaking up. “Trevor, doesn’t this necklace look familiar? I think I’ve seen your younger daughter wearing something similar…” My dad’s brows furrowed in annoyance. “There are countless identical necklaces out there. Charlie, you’ve been acting strange today. Did that conniving Hazel put you up to this? Don’t fall for her tricks.” Uncle Charlie tried to say more, but my dad was called away. As I watched his busy figure retreat, my hopes sank to rock bottom. My dad didn’t used to be like this. He once loved me too. But ten years ago, his high school sweetheart died in a domestic violence incident, leaving behind a young daughter. My dad took her in against my mom’s wishes, treating her like his own child. My mom couldn’t accept it and wanted a divorce. After a huge fight, she took me to a high bridge, intending to jump with me. The wind was so strong and I was terrified. I begged her to put me down. In the end, my mom’s body was found in the icy river. But I survived. When my dad got the call from the recovery team, he slapped me twice without hesitation, calling me a murderer who killed my own mother. He declared Natalie was his only daughter now. I was even forced to change my last name. I could no longer be called Hazel Turner, only Hazel Hayes. I knew my dad hated me with every fiber of his being. Now that I was finally dead, was he happy? The search continued. My teacher called my dad, reporting that I was missing. “Hazel hasn’t been seen at school since yesterday evening. Her roommate said she wasn’t there all day yesterday either,” the teacher explained anxiously. “Mr. Turner, can you reach Hazel? If not, we should file a missing persons report.” My dad’s face showed nothing but irritation. “Ms. Sanders, Hazel has always been a liar. She often lies to skip class. Don’t worry about her. Once she’s done playing around, she’ll come back on her own.” “But…” the teacher tried to protest, but my dad had already hung up. Because Natalie was calling him. “Dad, I’m not feeling well. When will you be done with work?” she asked in a sweet voice. My dad’s furrowed brow instantly smoothed out as he patiently replied, “Daddy still needs some more time, sweetie. What’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you need me to take time off to stay with you?” His gentle tone and concerned questions made my heart ache. Since Mom died, Dad had never spoken to me so kindly again. He always called me a murderer, saying I was the reason our family fell apart. But Dad, I’m your real daughter. I want your care and concern too. Even if it’s just one sentence. That evening, my dad still took time off to go home. He gazed at Natalie lying in bed, surrounded by 24/7 caregivers and on-call doctors, his eyes brimming with worry. “How are you feeling, sweetie?” he asked softly. “Daddy!” Natalie’s face lit up with joy as she threw her arms around him in a big hug. Watching their affectionate scene, even my bodiless spirit felt a lump in my non-existent throat. But I had no tears to shed. I could only watch as my dad fussed over Natalie in bed. After a long while, Natalie looked up from my dad’s embrace, her eyes darting around as she cautiously asked, “Dad, didn’t you say the search would take several days? Did you find all the dismembered remains already?” My dad froze for a moment before reflexively asking, “How did you know the body was dismembered?” My dejected spirits suddenly perked up as I stared at my dad expectantly. Even though he didn’t recognize the necklace he gave me, surely he wouldn’t miss such an obvious clue? But Natalie easily defused the situation with one sentence: “I saw it on the news.” “Oh Dad, that poor person. I wonder how devastated their family must be to hear the news.” “It is tragic,” my dad agreed. “But we haven’t identified the victim yet, so their family… probably doesn’t know yet.” He echoed Natalie’s words, completely missing the flash of triumph in her eyes. The tiny spark of hope in my heart was snuffed out again. Dad, it’s me! You’ve already noticed something’s off. How can you still not recognize me? My dad stayed home with Natalie all day. It wasn’t until midnight that the rescue team called, saying they made a major discovery at the supply station at the base of the mountain. They needed him to come back immediately. My dad hurriedly got dressed to leave, but Natalie suddenly appeared clutching the doll he’d given her when she first came to live with us. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “Dad, there’s thunder outside. I’m scared…” she whimpered. My dad hesitated. Just as it seemed Natalie would successfully keep him from leaving, Uncle Charlie frantically sent over a dozen photos from the scene. My dad’s pupils constricted as he glanced at them. He quickly reassured Natalie, “Be good, sweetheart. Let the nanny stay with you. Daddy will be back soon.” Then he raced downstairs and sped to the scene. When my dad arrived at the supply station, Uncle Charlie tried to stop him from entering. “Trevor, I really don’t think you should go in there…” But my dad brushed him off. “I’ve been doing search and rescue for years. What haven’t I seen? Move aside!” The next second, he charged into the scene. But as soon as he saw the well cordoned off by police tape, he ran to the side and started violently retching. The stench of decay filled the air around the well. Bloated body parts had been fished out, now unrecognizable. Nearby sat a pile of sealed evidence bags containing various weapons: hammers, axes, saws. Even a grindstone. The police explained these were all tools the killer had used on the victim. And not just for dismemberment. “The victim was still alive when these tools were used on her,” an officer reported grimly. “We found multiple blood stains and tissue residue on nearby rocks, likely from the victim’s desperate attempts to resist the pain.” “She was tortured to death.” “We’ve also roughly determined the victim’s profile: female, tall build, with an old fracture on the left leg bone, likely from a dog bite. The victim probably had limited mobility…” With each word, my dad’s eyes grew darker and more haunted. Dad, are you finally feeling sad for me? The next second, Uncle Charlie suddenly spoke up. “Trevor, didn’t your younger daughter have a limp in her left leg? And her build… I remember it was similar to this child’s.” “Charlie!” The sympathy vanished from my dad’s eyes, replaced by anger and resentment. “What has that little bitch been telling you? You’ve been bringing her up way too often lately!” “I’ve told you, even if that bitch died out there, it has nothing to do with me!” “Besides, someone as vile as her who could watch her own mother die – how could she possibly be dead?” Uncle Charlie tried to say more, but my dad had already walked away. Just then, a nearby officer received a call from my teacher reporting me missing. “Boss, your daughter Hazel’s teacher filed a missing persons report. Says Hazel has been gone for days.” But my dad grabbed his phone and smashed it to the ground. “Enough! When will this end?” he roared. “The victim has already suffered such a horrible fate, yet you’re all still playing along with that little monster’s game of make-believe!” “If she wants to play at being missing, then let her! Solving this case is what’s important!” The officer tried to say more, but my dad’s phone suddenly rang. Natalie’s voice came through. “Dad, the thunder is so loud. I’m really scared…” Hearing Natalie’s whimpers, my dad immediately started soothing her. “It’s okay, sweetie. Daddy’s coming home right now.” But he had barely taken a few steps when the officer called him back. “Mr. Turner! Come back!” My dad was forced to stop. It turned out Ms. Sanders had braved the heavy rain to come in person. She brought the security footage of me leaving school that day. The red jacket I was wearing matched the victim’s exactly!

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In my previous life, my mother, who worked as a live-in housekeeper for an affluent family, was given the opportunity to send one of her daughters to study alongside their son. They claimed my sister, Ivy, wasn’t as good at academics as I was and insisted she should be the one to study with him. As a result, Ivy went to Oakridge Academy, the elite private school, while I attended Westbrook High, the local public school. Years later, I became a renowned software designer, while Ivy met a tragic end, dying in a foreign country, bruised and broken. On my way to retrieve her ashes, the plane I was on crashed. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day we had to choose schools. This time, Ivy, with fear written all over her face, chose Westbrook High. And I became Spencer Whitlock’s study partner. That’s when I realized: Ivy had been reborn too. Content It was rare for both my parents to be home, but they were today, their faces glowing with excitement as they prepared a table full of good food. I glanced at the calendar—it was the day. “Violet,” my mother said, tugging Ivy toward her, ignoring the way Ivy tried to pull away. “I’ve got great news.” Her smile was wide, nearly triumphant. “Mrs. Whitlock, the lady I work for, said we can send one of you girls to study with her son at Oakridge Academy.” Ivy’s brow immediately furrowed. I stayed quiet, watching from the sidelines. As expected, my father spoke up next. “Rae’s grades are good enough to succeed anywhere. Ivy, this is your chance. You should take it.” Just like my past life, they weren’t even giving me a choice. The only difference this time? Ivy, who had once fought tooth and nail to be Spencer’s study partner, now shook her head violently, panic flashing in her eyes. “I’m not going!” Her voice was so loud it startled me. “Mom, I can’t go. My grades are bad—what if they look down on me? Or bully me? Please don’t make me go! Let Rae go instead!” she pleaded, her hands clutching at my mother’s arms. Mom seemed hesitant, but Dad’s expression turned dark with irritation. “What are you saying? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! How can you—” He stopped mid-sentence, glancing at me. I stayed calm, continuing to eat the rare feast on the table without so much as a glance in their direction. “Dad, I mean it! This is a terrible idea, and if you force me to go, I’ll… I’ll kill myself!” Ivy screamed, tears streaming down her face. Her outburst left our parents momentarily speechless, unsure of how to handle her hysteria. But they couldn’t stand the idea of letting this golden opportunity slip by without someone in the family taking it. It wasn’t until Ivy grabbed a fruit knife and pressed it to her throat that they finally caved. Smirking triumphantly, Ivy shot me a victorious glance from behind our parents. I knew then: Ivy had also been reborn. What she didn’t realize was that so had I.

My mother worked as a housekeeper for the prominent Whitlock family in Crestwood, earning their favor for her excellent care of their son, Spencer. In my past life, she had rushed home with news of the opportunity, eager to share it with Ivy. Ivy had been terrified I might steal her chance to climb the social ladder, practically moving into the Whitlock Estate that same night. Little did she know, I didn’t care about the opportunity at all. I had already secured a full scholarship to Oakridge Academy with my stellar grades. I hadn’t told my parents because I didn’t want to be in the same school as Ivy. But now that she was altering her choice, it worked perfectly in my favor. Once the matter was settled, my enrollment process went smoothly. Before school started, Ivy shot me a cold glare and sneered. “Violet, make sure you enjoy your new life.” I smiled internally. Spencer Whitlock? Ivy, you’ve got it all wrong. He’s just a spoiled, entitled rich kid. He’s hardly worth my attention. This time, I wasn’t just going to change my fate—I was going to rewrite the rules entirely.

“You’re the one my mom brought in as a glorified maid?” Spencer Whitlock’s disdain was evident from the second he laid eyes on me. His words, as rude as his expression, were as shallow as his personality. It was clear Ivy hadn’t had it easy under him in the last life. But that was her choice, not mine. His group of cronies erupted in laughter at his insult and began circling me. “Wow, someone really sent their kid here to be a servant?” “Hey Spencer, is this your childhood bride?” “She’s not bad looking. Why don’t you keep her around?” Their taunts didn’t faze me. I met Spencer’s gaze calmly, which seemed to irritate him even more. “Hey! What are you staring at, you brat?” “At an idiot,” I replied flatly. Before I knew it, I was gripping the finger he had pointed at me, ready to snap it. He yelped, his face contorted in pain, while his entourage froze in disbelief. “Even without your family’s connections, I’d still be here on my own merit. So drop the superiority complex—it makes you look ridiculous.” With that, I turned on my heel and walked toward the principal’s office. Unbeknownst to the Whitlocks, I had been accepted into Oakridge Academy on their prestigious scholarship program. They had bypassed proper admissions channels for me, but I had every intention of claiming what was mine. The principal greeted me warmly, even escorting me personally to Ms. Vanessa Harper, my homeroom teacher. “She’s one of our star students,” he explained with a smile. “Please see to it that she’s given every opportunity to thrive.” Ms. Harper nodded, seating me next to another scholarship student, Skye Langston. Skye was a quiet, frail-looking girl who seemed vaguely familiar, though I couldn’t place her. Regardless, I was determined to carve out a different path this time. Unfortunately, Spencer wasn’t going to make it easy. He pulled one juvenile prank after another. Dead bugs in my locker. Ruined lunches. Random spills of ink or water. But the last straw came when he dumped a bucket of dirty water over my desk. Grabbing a mop, I marched over and shoved it in his face. The shocked look on his smug features was almost worth it. “Violet Sullivan! Have you lost your mind?” he bellowed. I shoved the mop further, cutting off his rant. “Spencer Whitlock, push me one more time, and next time, it won’t just be a mop.” The class went silent as he fled to the restroom. Meanwhile, I calmly cleaned my desk and returned to my seat. Skye looked at me with wide-eyed admiration. That’s when Ms. Harper entered, motioning for me to follow her out.

I followed Ms. Harper silently down the hallway to the office. Inside, Spencer Whitlock stood with his arms crossed, a smug smirk plastered across his face. “Violet Sullivan, Spencer says he needs a one-on-one tutor,” Ms. Harper said, her tone neutral. “He claims you’ve been incredibly helpful and specifically requested you.” I glanced at him. That infuriating smirk deepened, his arched brow practically daring me to react. Such an immature stunt—exactly what I’d expect from someone like Spencer. He’d handed himself over to me on a silver platter. Why would I say no? The first tutoring session was in the library. I walked in with my books in hand, only to see Spencer seated at the table, wearing a faintly mischievous grin. He really couldn’t hide anything. Every thought he had was written all over his face. The moment I sat down, he snatched my pen and stuffed it up his sleeve, adopting an exaggerated look of innocence. “Did you forget to bring a pen?” he asked. I raised an eyebrow, then calmly pulled another pen from my pocket. “I always come prepared,” I replied dryly. Undeterred, he swiped at my books, sending them tumbling to the floor with a loud crash that drew annoyed looks from nearby students. “Oops,” he said with a mock shrug. As I bent to pick up my books, I said, “Do you ever get tired of this?” “Not really,” he replied with an infuriating grin. Just as I straightened, he snatched my notebook and pretended to fling it across the room. I calmly reached into my bag and pulled out a pair of scissors, stabbing them into the table right in front of him. “If you keep this up, my hand might slip next time,” I said coldly. Spencer’s face drained of color, his confidence crumbling under my glare. The second tutoring session was during study hall. This time, he smeared glue on my chair before I arrived. I immediately noticed the faint gleam of glue but said nothing. Circling behind him, I waited for my chance. When his guard was down, I grabbed his backpack and dumped all its contents onto the floor. “Violet Sullivan, are you crazy?” Spencer barked, leaping to his feet. He seemed ready to throw a punch but froze when I held up my scissors, a wicked smile on my face. “You enjoy playing games, right? Let’s see how you like it.” His face turned bright red, but he didn’t dare retaliate. By the time his lackeys scurried to help him gather his belongings, Spencer had completely forgotten about the glue. He sat down without thinking and immediately regretted it. I strolled up and leaned against his desk, grinning. “Remember what I told you? ‘What goes around comes around.’” Spencer gaped at me, unable to form a coherent response. After failing twice to humiliate me, he finally gave up on his childish antics. To my surprise, he started taking his studies seriously. And when he did, the results were astounding. By the next exam, he ranked in the top ten of the class. Ms. Harper practically beamed as she waved his score report in the air. Even the Whitlocks were astonished at his sudden transformation. A month later, I was invited to the Whitlock Estate. It was the first time I’d seen my mother since school began. Ivy was there too, glaring daggers at me with a venomous expression. Spencer, on the other hand, greeted me with a shy, almost endearing smile as he led me to his study. 4. At dinner, I finally met Mrs. Eleanor Whitlock, the lady of the house. She exuded cold authority, but when speaking to me, her demeanor softened into something resembling kindness. I knew better. She only saw me as useful. Spencer chatted with me amiably throughout the meal, while Ivy silently fumed, her hands clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. Afterward, Ivy pulled me aside into the garden. Her expression was icy, her voice sharp. “How are you doing this?” I tilted my head in mock confusion. “Doing what, Ivy?” Of course, I knew exactly what she meant. In our previous life, she had been sent to Oakridge Academy as Spencer’s study partner. But Ivy had never been good at academics. She couldn’t keep up with the rigorous curriculum, let alone help Spencer. Instead, she had suffered constant pranks and humiliation. Too timid to stand up for herself, Ivy endured everything in silence, terrified of losing the Whitlocks’ support. That fear had only emboldened Spencer, who escalated his torment until it culminated in an unforgivable act. Drunk and careless, Spencer assaulted her before their senior year. The Whitlocks had whisked them both away to Europe, trying to bury the scandal. But Ivy’s suffering didn’t end there. She clung to Spencer like a lifeline, enduring unspeakable abuse until her death. And yet, none of that had anything to do with me. Back then, I’d had no choice—just as I hadn’t been given a choice now. Our parents had always handed Ivy the best of everything, leaving me with scraps. Even this time, Ivy had tried to push me into the fire, hoping I’d burn in her place. But now that Spencer treated me with respect, her carefully hidden malice had finally spilled out. “You think Spencer Whitlock is a good person? The Whitlocks don’t care about you. You’re just smart, that’s all. Stop acting so smug.” I stared at her trembling, furious face. “Is that all you’ve got to say, Ivy?” Spencer appeared out of nowhere, his voice cold. “Whatever you have to say about Violet is irrelevant. She’s under my protection.” Ivy’s face went pale. Her fear of Spencer was deeply ingrained from our past life. Watching their exchange, I felt nothing but disgust. Without another word, I turned and went back inside, leaving them in the garden. Watching my mother flatter Mrs. Eleanor Whitlock, showering her with praise about how “talented” her other daughter was, made me feel sick. She was shamelessly pleading for Ivy Sullivan to be transferred to Oakridge Academy as well. After relentless cajoling, Mrs. Whitlock finally relented, though her furrowed brow showed her displeasure. I stood there, cold and detached, watching this farce unfold. The wheels of fate had already turned. As long as I was in control, nothing would ever go back to how it was. As for my so-called parents? Let them pin their hopes on their favorite daughter. All I wanted was to live my life on my own terms.

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Married for five years, my wife, Madison Shore, went on a six-month trip and returned with her “true love,” Jeremy Langston. Madison is now over three months pregnant. Jeremy claimed he was worried I wouldn’t take proper care of her and shamelessly asked to move into my house. I refused, and Madison lashed out at me, calling me ungrateful. She glared at me with contempt, forgetting that I’m the one who gave her a life of luxury and indulgence. Did they really think they could walk all over me and rule my house? This time, I’ll make them experience what it means to fall from grace. I called my secretary with a smirk, “Draft a divorce settlement immediately. I’m kicking that pretty boy and the gold digger out with nothing.” Content 1， Last night, Madison called to say she was coming home after her six-month “vacation.” I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep. Early this morning, I had Auntie Linda prepare a table full of her favorite dishes. When the door swung open, Madison walked in, arm in arm with another man, flaunting their closeness as they approached me. I froze in shock, staring at the inappropriate intimacy between them. My eyes landed on Madison’s slightly rounded belly. “Andrew, you’ve gotten more handsome while I was away,” she said with a playful smile. I stared at her, my face dark with fury. Sensing my anger, Madison quickly let go of Jeremy’s hand and approached me, pouting. “Andrew, don’t be like that. You know you’re… incapable in that area, right?” “Jeremy is highly educated, comes from a good family, and we’ve known each other forever. A child from him would be healthier, wouldn’t it?” “And you wouldn’t want me to suffer through IVF, would you?” Her words lodged like a thorn in my chest. She made her betrayal sound so reasonable, even virtuous. I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to strike her. Jeremy stepped forward protectively, pulling Madison behind him, his face full of false humility. “Mr. Whitmore, Madison has told me everything. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” “We’ve been close since childhood. If the three of us live together, I don’t mind.” My anger surged. Madison, however, gazed at Jeremy with tenderness. “Jeremy, you’re always so considerate,” she said sweetly. Five years of marriage, and she had never looked at me like that. She leaned into Jeremy’s embrace like a delicate bird, pointing to the upstairs bedroom. “We’ll be staying up there,” she announced. I watched as they ascended the stairs, my fists clenched so tightly my knuckles turned white. Soon after, a driver carried in three large suitcases. Following closely were Madison’s parents, Ronald and Patricia Shore. Without even glancing at me, they marched upstairs. If upstairs was where the action was, I decided to join them. I found Madison stroking her belly, speaking softly to her parents. “I wasn’t trying to keep this from you, but you know the rule about not announcing a pregnancy before three months. Jeremy was just worried about my safety.” The sight made my heart ache. For five years, every time her parents and I disagreed, Madison sided with them, scolding me to “respect their age” and “be more understanding.” I thought she was just a sensitive person. But seeing how fiercely she defended Jeremy, I realized what a fool I had been. Jeremy took Patricia’s hand confidently. “Mrs. Shore, you’ve always known how much I love Madison. My intentions are genuine, and I hope you and Mr. Shore can understand.” Patricia’s frown softened as she turned to scrutinize me. I could see her weighing her options—me, or Jeremy. In our five years of marriage, I had bought the Shores a villa to replace their old house. I sent them a monthly allowance to cover all their expenses. But seeing Patricia hesitate, my heart sank. Madison, my wife, had not only conceived another man’s child but also paraded him into my home to humiliate me. Did she really think I loved her so much I’d tolerate anything—even this? Sensing the tension, Madison suddenly burst into tears. “The baby is innocent! No matter what you say about me, I’m keeping it!” Her tears were pitiful, tugging at everyone’s hearts. Jeremy immediately dropped to his knees before Patricia. “Mrs. Shore, that’s your grandchild Madison is carrying.” “She only did this because she couldn’t conceive for five years and was worried the Whitmores would blame her. Please understand…” The Shores had pressured Madison to have a child ever since we got married. When nothing happened, we found out the problem was with me. Although I couldn’t conceive naturally, IVF was still an option. I had already accepted my shortcomings and done everything to make up for it. But what Madison did was beyond forgiveness. Ronald finally spoke. “Since she’s already pregnant, let her have the baby. No matter whose child it is, Madison will be its mother.” Then he turned to me. “That settles it.” I laughed coldly. “Settles it?” “What makes you think you get to decide?” Madison frowned at me. “We’ve said what needed to be said. What’s your problem now?” I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. I’d spent tens of thousands of dollars for her to enjoy herself on vacation, and she came back with a baby—and a man. What right did she have to act so entitled? Jeremy feigned discomfort, playing the martyr. “I know this is because of me. I can leave if you want, but please take good care of Madison.” Patricia immediately protested. “You can’t leave! Madison is happy with you around. Besides, the baby needs its father to grow up healthy.” Madison shot me a glare. “If Jeremy has to go, I’m leaving too.” Patricia chimed in, wrapping her arm around Madison protectively. “No one is going anywhere! This is my daughter’s home now, and I call the shots here.” Jeremy gave Patricia a smug grin, confident in his position. Watching their cozy little scene, I couldn’t bear it anymore. I walked away. 2， I spent the entire afternoon in my study, Madison’s laughter echoing intermittently from the living room below. After lunch, Auntie Linda came to see me. “Jeremy Langston tried to take over your study, but Mrs. Shore stopped him,” she said matter-of-factly. “She told him, ‘Andrew is the CEO of Whitmore Industries. The family depends on him for everything, so don’t go overboard.’ That’s the only reason he backed down.” Auntie Linda, who had cared for me since childhood, knew my temper well. She glanced at me, hesitating before continuing. “Mrs. Shore also said all of Madison’s pregnancy expenses would still come from you. After all, you can’t have kids yourself, so this is a good chance for you to ‘experience the joy of fatherhood.’” I clenched my fists, my expression darkening. “Is there more?” Auntie Linda nodded, lowering her voice. “They’re saying that since you don’t have an heir, this child could be adopted under your name. That way, the Whitmore family fortune will pass to him.” I let out a sharp laugh, cold as ice. The Shores were utterly shameless. If that’s the game they wanted to play, I would humor them—for now. By the time evening rolled around, the sound of a car starting outside jolted me back to five years ago, when my obsession with Madison began. Back then, I had been determined to marry Madison, no matter how hard my parents tried to dissuade me. At the time, my parents had already arranged a potential union with the Holden family, which they fully supported. After all, the Whitmore and Holden families were the pinnacle of Hampton Ridge’s elite—who wouldn’t want that match? But I had no romantic interest in Sierra Holden. To me, she was like a little sister. From the moment I first met Madison, my entire heart belonged to her, and I lost all interest in Sierra. I constantly told my parents, “Madison isn’t like other girls. Give her a chance, and you’ll see for yourselves how special she is.” But they insisted I had given Sierra false hope, which explained why she kept finding excuses to visit our house. At the time, I didn’t care what Sierra felt. All I wanted was to marry Madison as soon as possible. The day I met Madison, it was pouring rain. She stood under a tree, drenched in her white dress, her hair plastered to her face from the rain. Her wide eyes looked so innocent and vulnerable, like a startled doe. Ignoring the mockery of my college roommates, I grabbed an umbrella and ran to her, offering to walk her back to her dorm in the downpour. She thanked me, but I boldly asked for her number, claiming it was only fair. That evening, I added her on social media. When I introduced myself, she sent back a voice message that sounded like bells ringing in springtime: “Oh, Andrew Whitmore—I’ve heard so much about you.” From then on, I made every excuse to bump into her outside her dorm. I even dragged myself to early morning classes just to sit near her—something I’d never done before. It only took one look to seal my fate. I was head over heels, willingly becoming Madison’s loyal knight. 3， After our wedding, Madison said she didn’t want to be a stay-at-home wife. She wanted to work at my company, even if it was as a low-level employee. How could I let her settle for a mere desk job? I made her my personal secretary. Madison was quick to learn, grasping every concept effortlessly. With my guidance, she soon made small strides in investment management. She said she wanted to achieve something bigger and stand beside me as an equal. I believed I should support her dreams, though my parents and friends urged caution. Before the wedding, my parents had warned me repeatedly that Madison wasn’t the right match. But I didn’t care. All I wanted was her love. After we got married, her parents’ lives improved drastically. They quit their low-paying jobs and relied entirely on the generous monthly allowances I sent. They enjoyed an early retirement, living comfortably and bragging about their daughter’s status as Whitmore Industries’ Vice President—claiming she’d soon take over as CEO. Even distant relatives who hadn’t spoken to the Shores in generations came knocking, asking Madison for favors. She was too polite to refuse, so I stepped in to solve every problem for her. From family weddings to funerals, I supported all their needs. I didn’t mind these demands—after all, with the resources of the Whitmore family, they were insignificant. But Madison never knew the truth. Just days before our wedding, Sierra Holden came to see me. She offered to transfer 10% of her family’s holdings to me, saying that if I ever regretted my decision, she’d always be there waiting. I laughed at her, saying, “You’re overthinking this. I’ve always had impeccable taste, and I’m not wrong about Madison either.” I couldn’t have been more wrong. Everyone else saw Madison for what she truly was, but I was blinded. After the wedding, I did everything to make her happy. I quit smoking and drinking, gave up late-night business meetings, and went straight home after work. I even hired chefs from all over the world to prepare meals for her, hoping to win her favor. My best friend, Tyler Morgan, often teased me, saying I’d become a “24-karat husband” under Madison’s thumb. Her parents sang my praises to anyone who would listen, telling everyone how lucky Madison was to have me. But no matter what I did, Madison always found fault in me. I thought it was because I wasn’t good enough. Now I realize she only saw me as a stepping stone for her own ambitions. She never loved me. No matter how hard I tried, I would never be enough. 4， Despite my objections, they allowed Jeremy Langston to move into my house. That evening, Jeremy knocked on my study door, asking me to join them for dinner. When I ignored him, he turned on his fake sincerity. “Mr. Whitmore, are you still upset with me? Everything I’ve done has been for Madison’s sake. If you can’t stand me, I’ll stay out of your way.” I opened the door, annoyed, and saw Jeremy with his usual pitiful expression, acting like a victim. Madison came upstairs, clutching the railing as if climbing Everest, and scolded me for “harassing” Jeremy. “It’s not his fault,” she said, giving him a tender look. “Go downstairs and eat. Don’t let him ruin your appetite.” Jeremy hesitated but eventually pulled a cheap-looking watch from his pocket. “This is something I modified myself,” he said. “I know it’s not up to your standards, Mr. Whitmore, but consider it a gift. Let’s get along for Madison’s sake.” I sneered. “If you can’t even give a proper gift, don’t embarrass yourself.” Madison’s face twisted with fury, and she slapped me hard. “Andrew Whitmore! Jeremy is trying so hard to make peace, and you humiliate him like this?!” “I’m pregnant, and I can’t afford to get upset. If you keep pushing Jeremy, you’re trying to kill me and the baby!” Her self-righteousness obliterated any lingering affection I had for her. I looked at the pair of them with cold disdain and struck Jeremy twice, hard enough to draw blood. Madison screamed, “How dare you hit him!” “If it weren’t for your pregnancy, I’d have slapped you instead,” I growled. “Do you think I, Andrew Whitmore, will tolerate this humiliation?” Hearing the commotion, Patricia rushed upstairs to mediate. “Andrew, Madison is pregnant and emotional. Don’t take it to heart.” When I remained silent, Patricia tugged on Madison’s sleeve, urging her to apologize. “Apologize to Andrew. You went too far.” Madison pouted, refusing to back down. Apologizing wasn’t in her nature. “Madison!” Patricia snapped, giving her a light slap. Finally, Madison muttered through gritted teeth, “Fine. I shouldn’t have hit you, but you shouldn’t have hit Jeremy either.” Her “apology” only deepened my disappointment. That night, I stayed locked in my study, ignoring the world. Auntie Linda brought me dinner out of pity. 5， The next day, I stayed in bed until noon, finally waking up to the sounds of them preparing lunch downstairs. Without sparing them a glance, I grabbed my keys and left the house. At work, my secretary informed me that rumors had spread. Somehow, everyone now knew Madison had gone off for six months and returned pregnant. The whispers in the office were relentless, full of ridicule and gossip. Shortly after leaving the office, Madison texted me, demanding I bring her some health supplements. “Oh, and don’t forget to grab that new designer bag that came out yesterday,” she added. “It’ll make me feel better.” Reading her message, I could almost see her haughty expression, as though she was still the queen of the castle. Once, I would have done anything to keep her happy. Now? She’s no one to me. I quickly replied, “Ask the baby’s father to buy it for you. It’ll be more fitting.” Not long after I sent the message, Auntie Linda called me. “Jeremy just helped himself to the supplements your mother sent over this morning. He said it’s for the baby’s health.” I clenched the phone. “And what else?” Auntie Linda let out an annoyed huff. “Madison’s parents didn’t say a word to stop him. They even seemed proud, telling him, ‘If Madison can eat it, it’s fair game.’” My chest tightened. My health had never been great, and my mother would occasionally send me carefully chosen supplements to help me stay strong. But now, her love and care were being exploited by these leeches. Even Patricia, who always prided herself on manners, condoned it. If they were this shameless, there was no need for me to keep up appearances. I returned to the office, called an emergency board meeting, and reorganized key responsibilities. Then, I made the final announcement: “Effective immediately, Madison Shore is removed from her position as Vice President. She is no longer authorized to enter company premises.”

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Dominic Blackwell shared a picture of me showering in the Boys’ Group Chat. “Pregnancy is such a hassle—look, no touch,” he quipped. The comments that followed were vile, riddled with filth. But Dominic didn’t seem to care. He joined right in, letting them scrutinize and joke about my body. One of them teased, “Well, isn’t there a certain starlet to keep you entertained?” That made him furious. Because Celeste Monroe was his untouchable “white moonlight,” a pedestal-bound goddess no one could disrespect. Later, I lost the baby. Calmly, I filed for divorce. The Blackwell family had sponsored my education, but in these five years of marriage, I’d repaid that debt in full. But Dominic regretted it. Content “Audrey usually dresses so conservatively. Who would’ve thought she’s got such a killer figure under all that?” “Dom, you’re so generous—sharing this bombshell with us!” “I’m making this my screensaver for sure.” The photo they were discussing was one Dominic had just posted. It showed the bathroom, with my silhouette clearly visible through the frosted glass as I showered. Dominic didn’t react to their remarks. He even chimed in, laughing along. “You guys have no idea. Audrey’s skin is so smooth and pale. Shame she’s pregnant now—I can only look, not touch.” It was my second month of pregnancy. My belly hadn’t started showing yet. The doctor had warned us the baby was fragile, and we needed to be extra cautious. After showering, I felt a bit of discomfort in my stomach, so I grabbed Dominic’s phone to call the doctor. That’s when I saw the chat. Amid the lewd remarks, someone teased: “What’s the big deal? You’ve still got Celeste Monroe joining you for lunch at the office every day.” “Exactly, that starlet’s body is flawless.” Faced with this wave of agreement, Dominic suddenly changed his tone. Fury replaced his earlier casual attitude as he fiercely defended Celeste. “Watch your mouths. If I hear anyone disrespecting Celeste like that again, we’re done being friends!”

Dominic’s words hit me like a punch to the chest, sharp and bitter. He’d shared a private photo of his wife for their amusement but drew the line when it came to Celeste Monroe. He knew exactly what disrespect looked like. Yet he let his friends say such things about me without a second thought. My hands shook as anger and humiliation burned through me. I wanted to storm into the bathroom and confront him. But the stabbing pain in my stomach spread to my chest, and tears started streaming down my face. From the moment I met Dominic, Celeste Monroe had always been a shadow between us. She was his childhood sweetheart. Everyone loved to tell me stories about how happy they’d been together. The first time I saw her was at my wedding to Dominic. During our vows, she showed up, her eyes red and glassy. The usually composed Dominic faltered, staring at her like the ground had shifted beneath him. He barely held himself back from running to her. The officiant had to remind him three times to say, “I do.” When he finally did, it was impatient and curt. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s move on.” After the wedding, he disappeared for an entire day without offering a single explanation. It was Dominic’s grandfather, Mr. Blackwell, who comforted me. He told me not to worry, that as long as the two of us focused on building a life together, everything would be fine. I said nothing, and the matter was swept under the rug. Not just because I loved Dominic. But because the elderly man who stood before me had funded ten years of my education, pulling me from a childhood of abandonment in Willow Creek Village to graduate from an Ivy League school. From then on, Dominic seemed to settle down. It was as though Celeste Monroe had never existed. For five years, Dominic and I became the perfect couple in the public eye—a paragon of harmony and love. Until last year, when Mr. Blackwell retired and Dominic took over Blackwell Enterprises. That’s when I heard her name again.

The sound of water stopped. Dominic Blackwell walked out of the bathroom, a towel carelessly slung around his waist. Seeing me in tears, he looked genuinely concerned. “What’s wrong? Is your stomach bothering you?” His worry felt so real, so sincere, that it was hard to connect him with the man from the messages I’d just read. Wordlessly, I handed him his phone. The screen was still lit, displaying the Boys’ Group Chat. Dominic instantly understood. Wrapping an arm around me affectionately, he began to explain. “It’s just some banter between friends—nothing serious.” “If it bothers you, I’ll have them delete the picture right now.” He sent a message to the chat and showed me the screen to prove it. Then he added, “Celeste’s a public figure, you know. I didn’t want it to get out and cause trouble.” Dominic always did this—picking up on my emotions quickly and offering an apology. It used to give me the illusion that he cared. I pushed his arm away and bolted to the bathroom. The double-faced act made me feel physically ill. Dominic followed, about to say something, but a notification from his phone interrupted him. By the time I came out, he had already changed clothes and was ready to leave. “Audrey, there’s an issue at the office I need to handle,” he said as he adjusted his coat. Before heading out, he gently touched my head. “Don’t dwell on what happened earlier. I’ve sent you the doctor’s number—call if you feel unwell.” He left in a rush without looking back. No sooner had Dominic stepped out than I received a message from Celeste Monroe. We’d connected on social media after the wedding but never exchanged more than pleasantries. Yet for the past two months, she’d religiously posted pictures of her lunches in her Instagram Stories. Now, it all made sense—she was dining with my husband. Her message included a screenshot of her chat with Dominic. She’d taken a moody photo from her sofa, the dim light highlighting her legs. “Dom, there’s a blackout at my place. I’m feeling a little scared—can you come over?” It was a cliché move, but Dominic had fallen for it. At midnight, while I was struggling with pregnancy nausea, he left me alone to comfort another woman.

After Dominic left, I sat in our bedroom for a long time. My tears had dried, leaving a tight, stiff feeling across my face. Once I calmed down, I called Julian Blake, our family lawyer, to draft a divorce agreement. Then, I started researching volunteer teaching programs online. I had grown up in the Appalachian Highlands, and it was always my dream to return home to teach after graduating. But in college, Dominic had said he fell for me at first sight. We dated for four years before getting married under Mr. Blackwell’s blessing. Now, I wanted to finish what I’d once left undone. I rested a hand on my stomach, a pang of guilt rising within me. Since I’d decided to leave Dominic, keeping the baby wasn’t an option. The idea of being a single mother felt absurd in real life. Better to make the tough decision now while it was still early.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. The photo on the wall seemed to glare back at me. It wasn’t a wedding picture hanging in our bedroom but an image from a media interview. I was beaming, while Dominic gazed down at me with what seemed to be love in his eyes. The press called Dominic a “wife-worshiper,” someone who wouldn’t let anyone so much as look at me the wrong way. That interview happened right after I became Mrs. Blackwell. The media’s questions were sharp, zeroing in on my past. A reporter shoved a microphone in my face: “Is it true that Mrs. Blackwell was abandoned in the Appalachian Highlands by her parents?” It wasn’t the first time I’d been asked this. Though I was labeled a “latchkey child,” the truth was my parents never came back for me. The villagers whispered behind my back, saying my family didn’t want me. But hearing it in public, framed as entertainment, still left me tongue-tied. As I stammered, Dominic stepped in, wrapping his arm around me protectively. “My wife is and always has been a treasure in my eyes. There’s no such thing as abandonment,” he said firmly. “And I’m doing everything I can to find her parents.” He looked at me with so much warmth before turning to the reporter, his expression steely. “I’ll be having a conversation with your company about professional boundaries.” After the interview, I tearfully thanked him for saving me. Awkwardly patting my back, he said, “That wasn’t just for show—I meant every word.” Looking into my eyes, he added, “How could anyone ever abandon someone as beautiful and capable as you? You’re the best thing in my life.” At that moment, my tears wouldn’t stop. Deep down, we both knew the truth. I was abandoned. My parents had left because I was born a girl. When news of my engagement to Dominic spread, they’d come looking for me. But Mr. Blackwell quietly handled it, ensuring it never reached the public. The media was flooded with stories about our “perfect love.” Dominic’s devotion fooled everyone. Even me.

In the middle of the night, Dominic texted me: “Work’s insane. I won’t be home tonight. Let’s grab dinner tomorrow to make it up to you.” I was packing my suitcase when I casually replied, “Okay.” Dinner would be the perfect time to discuss our divorce. I thought back to the first time I met Dominic Blackwell. I had brought homegrown apples to Blackwell Manor to thank Mr. Blackwell, but the security guard at the gate wouldn’t let me in. It was Dominic who happened to pass by and brought me inside. He sat on the couch, bit into one of the apples, and said, “This is so sweet. Did you grow it yourself?” I nodded shyly. “That’s impressive,” he remarked casually. Back then, the polite, distant boy left a deep impression on me. The second time we met was at the Lakeside Mart where I worked part-time. Dominic suddenly announced his feelings for me in front of everyone, saying he wanted to date me. I didn’t take him seriously. Between school and work, I barely had time to breathe, let alone entertain a relationship. But Dominic started working at the store alongside me, silently helping out for an entire semester. At the end of it, he used his earnings to buy me a necklace. It wasn’t expensive, but it was thoughtful. No one could say no to such sincerity, and neither could I. It wasn’t until much later, after we’d been together for a while, that I learned the truth. The store was owned by Celeste Monroe’s cousin. Celeste had just gone abroad at the time. Dominic’s elaborate courtship was simply a ploy to get her attention, hoping her cousin would spread the news and lure her back. What he hadn’t counted on was that Celeste stayed away for four years. By the time we graduated, Mr. Blackwell had arranged our marriage. We’d argued about this after we got married, but Dominic always brushed it off: “That’s all in the past. Let’s not bring it up again.” But it wasn’t in the past. The moment Celeste showed up at our wedding, it all came rushing back. Thinking about it now, I reached for the necklace around my neck, taking it off and placing it in the drawer. I’d worn it ever since Dominic gave it to me. Now, I didn’t want it anymore. My luggage wasn’t much—just a small suitcase tucked in the corner. Once I finalized the divorce with Dominic, I could leave anytime.

The next morning, Dominic was all over the entertainment news. “Rising Starlet Caught in Midnight Rendezvous with Mystery Man!” The photo was blurry, but I could recognize Dominic’s car from the night before. When he got home, he had already changed clothes. I slipped the divorce agreement from my lawyer into my bag, planning to bring it up after dinner. Dominic opened the car door for me with an apologetic smile. “Work’s been crazy. Let me take you somewhere nice to make it up to you for yesterday.” I didn’t respond. My mind was entirely on the divorce. Dominic, mistaking my silence for lingering anger over the photo incident, tried to lighten the mood by touching my hand. I avoided his touch. The thought of him treating Celeste the same way made my stomach turn. After a few failed attempts, he gave up and drove in silence. I stared out the window, rain streaking across the glass like a blur, feeling a wave of regret for wasting five years of my life. It wasn’t until Dominic pulled over to the side of the road that I snapped out of my thoughts. “Audrey, wait here for the driver to pick you up. Something came up with Celeste—I need to go get her,” he said urgently, unbuckling my seatbelt before I could react. I had caught snippets of his phone conversation earlier, but now it was clear—Celeste had called him. I glanced at him coldly, refusing to move. “I have something important to discuss with you today.” Dominic leaned over to open my door, indifferent to the rain pouring outside or the fact that I was pregnant. “Celeste is being hounded by the press. Whatever you want to talk about can wait until I’m back.” I knew the media frenzy was because of the photos from the night before. But I couldn’t wait any longer. The longer this pregnancy went on, the harder it would be to leave. Calmly, I said, “Dominic, I want a divorce.” “Audrey, can you stop being so unreasonable? Don’t make a scene!” He pushed me lightly, trying to get me out of the car. But as I was reaching into my bag for the divorce papers, his shove threw me off balance. I fell out of the car, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Pain exploded in my head, and I felt something wet pooling beneath me. “Audrey—” Through the haze, I saw Dominic’s panicked figure rushing toward me.

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I was a scholarship student, while my roommate was a wealthy heiress. As soon as we started college, she insisted on being friends with me. She took me out to fancy restaurants and parties, and even introduced me to her childhood friend, William Carter. But when William and I actually got together, the heiress wasn’t happy anymore. She deliberately spilled my ramen noodles, claiming she burned herself and demanded I pay for it. After I gave her all my money, she spread rumors that I had sticky fingers and stole her Louis Vuitton wallet. The school disciplined me, my classmates avoided me, and even William wanted to break up with me. He said I was just an ugly duckling who had a taste of the good life and delusionally thought I could become a swan. I couldn’t defend myself, was ostracized and cyberbullied until I dropped out. In my mental breakdown, I fell into a river and drowned. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment she introduced me to William Carter. “William, this is Wren, my best friend at college. Isn’t she pretty?” Jessica’s teasing voice and the deafening music around us brought me back to reality. This was when I first met William Carter. He didn’t think much of me then, and it was the same now. He didn’t even glance at me, just kept drinking his whiskey. Jessica had one arm around my shoulders, grinning as she asked, “Wren, what do you think of our William?” “William’s family is in real estate. They’re the richest in the city.” I lowered my head and smiled shyly, pretending to be embarrassed. “He seems nice. I need to use the restroom real quick.” Jessica clearly liked William, yet she kept trying to push him towards me. William was a jerk too, getting together with me even though he didn’t like me. I was just a pawn in their little game. I raised my head from the cold water, taking off my thick black-framed glasses. This time, I refuse to be their plaything. Who says an ugly duckling can’t become a swan? I left without saying goodbye, and sure enough, I ran into William at the entrance. He was sitting alone on a hidden bench near the door, head down as if looking at something. In my previous life, I learned a lot about his past from Jessica. Today was his birthday, but also the anniversary of his mother’s death. In my past life, everyone urged me to toast William, but he mocked me for not knowing the difference between brandy and whiskey, then left me standing there. I kept my head down and took out a box of strawberry milk from my bag. It was supposed to be my breakfast, but now it would have to serve as a prop. “Here, drinking alcohol all night isn’t good for your stomach.” William gave me a cold look. “I don’t need your pity.” I didn’t get angry, I just set it down and said, “If you hurt your stomach, your mom would be sad.” With that, I turned and left, ignoring the curious gaze behind me. Rich kids like him and Jessica would never take someone like me seriously. But this time, I’m not just going to make him take me seriously, I’m going to make him and Jessica turn against each other. When Jessica came back, she complained about me leaving without a word. I sweet-talked her as usual, fawning over her. If she skipped class, I’d mark her present. If she was too lazy to get food, I’d bring it to her. If she thought the dorm washing machines were dirty, I’d hand-wash her clothes one by one. The other roommates called me a bootlicker behind my back, saying no matter how much I sucked up, she’d never give me a penny. I pretended not to hear, playing the role of Jessica’s little follower. Every day, besides doing chores for her, I had to listen to her bragging. She’d say the cafeteria food was barely fit for pigs, and that her dad should just open a food processing plant right here on campus. Sometimes William would come visit her, bringing flowers, gifts, food, and all sorts of little trinkets – there’d even be something for me. I’d suck up to him too, bringing him food when I brought Jessica’s.

Jessica boasted proudly, “William’s great, isn’t he? So many girls like him. Do you like him?” I quickly shook my head, saying shyly, “How could I be worthy of him? I think William only has eyes for you.” I’d hit Jessica’s sweet spot, and she smiled with satisfaction. Jessica knew William liked her, but she didn’t want to be tied down so quickly. Soon after, at the college sports day, she was supposed to be a flag bearer, but accidentally tripped on her dress and sprained her ankle. An athlete from the sports team carried her to the infirmary. That day, William would end up confessing to me out of jealousy. But on the day of the sports meet, I managed to sprain my ankle first. Fighting through the pain, I limped over to bring Jessica her makeup bag. Jessica showed no concern for me at all, instead complaining that I was late. “You’re so slow just bringing something over. If your foot hurts, just deal with it. What if you made us late for the parade?” I lowered my head and apologized, acting like a total pushover. It was that muscular athlete again: “Hey, are you okay? Let me take you to the infirmary.” I blushed and waved my hands, saying it wasn’t necessary, but nearly fell over. He still picked me up bridal style, insisting on taking me. Suddenly, a cold gaze fell on us. I looked up to see William. Jessica called out excitedly, “William, don’t I look pretty today?” But William didn’t answer, he just looked at me. “Get down, I’ll take you.” Jessica’s face immediately fell. “William, I’m supposed to be in the parade soon. What are you doing?” I quickly tried to smooth things over. “You don’t need to take me, this guy can do it. Don’t mess up Jessica’s plans.” At the infirmary, the nurse said the injury was a bit serious and told me to avoid walking for a while. I thanked the athlete, and learned his name was Rowan. Rowan was about to leave, but turned back at the door. “Um, can I get your number? In case you need help with anything later.” I looked at his red-tipped ears, not quite understanding. Not long after I arrived at the infirmary, news came that Jessica had fallen. William personally brought her over. She was wearing a long tulle dress, like a princess, with William as her handsome knight. Rowan came back with an ice pack, looking confused when he saw the two of them. Jessica was screaming in pain, and the nurse said she needed to ice it first. She rudely pointed at Rowan, telling him to give her the ice pack. I meekly said as usual, “Give it to Jessica first, I can get another one later.” Rowan looked annoyed, but still gave it to her. “Then I’ll take you back to the dorm first, and I’ll buy you one later.” “Wren, can’t you do anything yourself? Do you need others to run around for you?” William’s face was cold, his words unkind. But he actually took the ice pack and personally put it on my swollen ankle. Jessica stared in disbelief: “William! I haven’t even used it yet! How could you give it to her?” William ignored her, instead looking up at me: “Wren, don’t you like me? Let’s be together.” I used surprise to cover the coldness in my eyes. William wouldn’t fall for me so easily. He was mostly trying to make Jessica jealous. I didn’t agree right away, stammering nervously: “I- I never said I liked you.” I fled back to the dorm, where Jessica’s attitude towards me did a complete 180. She spoke with biting sarcasm: “Well, well, I didn’t know you actually hooked up with William. You’ve really got skills, getting together with him. I guess you’ve made it big now.” I kept my head down, saying it wasn’t true. But Jessica escalated: “Stop pretending! You must like William, right? I’ve seen plenty of girls like you.” “Always trying to climb the social ladder, not knowing your place. Even if William likes you, his family would never approve!” This was far from enough. What I wanted was much more than just his affection.

William actually started pursuing me in earnest. He’d pick me up for class in the morning, eat lunch with me, and invite me for walks in the evening. Because of my injured foot, I stopped running errands for Jessica. No one in the dorm talked to either of us, so she simply moved out to live off-campus. Gradually, in others’ eyes, it seemed I had truly fallen for William. I’d blush when I saw him, give him little handmade gifts, and even share food from my part-time job with him. I’d send him good morning and goodnight messages, share my daily life with him, whether he replied or not. I got rid of my clunky glasses, grew out my hair, and while my clothes were still simple, I could pass for a pretty girl when I looked in the mirror. Slowly, I could feel William’s gaze on me changing. He’d deliberately get close to make me blush, kiss me under an umbrella on rainy days. We seemed like a real couple. Until the day Jessica got drunk and burst into the dorm, knocking over the ramen I was eating. I dodged quickly, but she burned her own wrist. Even though she immediately shook it off, it left a red mark. She glared at me through gritted teeth: “Wren Fisher, I treated you like a friend, but you seduced William. Aren’t you ashamed?” I kept up my innocent act: “What do you mean seduced? Were you two together before?” Jessica suddenly went quiet, then pointed at me threateningly: “Just you wait. You really think William would fall for you? He’s just playing with you.” I was just playing with him too, and I’d already gotten what I wanted. Breaking up wasn’t a big deal. Sure enough, William came to lecture me for her sake. Just like in my past life, he dragged me into a private room, filled with his rich friends. William told me to apologize: “Be sensible. Jessica’s never been hurt before, and she got burned because of you.” Jessica smugly folded her arms and snorted: “Have her apologize? I wouldn’t dare. She’s William Carter’s girlfriend after all.” William looked a bit exasperated, teasing her: “You’re still jealous about that? Weren’t you the one who introduced her to me?” Jessica pointed at a row of liquor bottles: “Fine, if you sincerely want to apologize, drink all of these and I’ll forgive you.” William didn’t object, personally handing me a glass. “A whole row is too much. Just one glass.” I took the glass, but with a flick of my wrist, poured the liquid on the floor. “I won’t drink a single drop.” In my past life, no matter how I tried to explain, all I got was mockery. They didn’t care about the truth, they just wanted to laugh at me. I was the ugly duckling, the loser, someone not in their social class. I was forced to drink a whole row of shots, ending up vomiting on the spot. Jessica covered her nose, while William disgustedly had someone throw me out. This time, after pouring out the drink, I threw the glass on the table. With a loud clatter, I only explained once: “You got burned because you deliberately spilled my ramen. You deserved it.” Jessica jumped up furiously, pointing and screaming: “How dare you say I deserved it! Weren’t you always so timid? Finally showing your true colors, huh? I knew you were a green tea bitch all along!” “I’m telling you, if you don’t drink this whole row of shots and apologize today, I’ll have you kicked out of school tomorrow!” William frowned, looking at me disapprovingly. “Wren, did you forget what I said? It’s just an apology, why make it so difficult?” I gave a slightly mocking smile: “I did nothing wrong, so I won’t apologize.” William didn’t expect me to be so stubborn today. He grabbed my wrist, staring at me. “What if I insist you apologize to her?” I gritted my teeth and shook off his hand: “Then let’s break up.”

William’s face immediately darkened. Jessica quickly said: “Wren Fisher, you really think you’re that pretty? William was just playing with you. If anyone’s dumping anyone, it’s him dumping you!” But William stepped towards me menacingly: “You want to break up with me? You don’t have that right.” “Whether I have the right or not isn’t for you to decide.” I turned to leave without a backward glance. The people in the room tried to lighten the mood: “Come on, she’s just a country bumpkin. It was just a fling, William, don’t take it to heart.” “She’s just got an attitude. Don’t worry, in three days tops, she’ll come crawling back to you.” Jessica’s mood improved quite a bit. She offered William a drink. “You’re not really angry, are you? Wren Fisher just doesn’t know her place.” But William smashed the glass, the loud noise instantly silencing the room. After a moment, he spoke slowly: “It’s fine. Keep drinking.” But that night, he checked his phone many times, never receiving my usual goodnight message. Jessica wasn’t just talking. She really intended to get me expelled. The inevitable finally came. I took a day off, hiding behind the bed curtain, watching Jessica who should have been in class sneaking into the dorm. She was holding a brand new Louis Vuitton wallet. I quickly took out my phone, recording a video of her putting the wallet in my locker. At noon, Jessica cornered me in the classroom with a group of people. She stared at me confidently, asking: “Wren Fisher, my wallet’s gone missing. You’re always closest to me, did you take it?” The classroom was packed, even the doorway was crowded with people. I calmly explained: “Do you have any proof?” Jessica sneered: “Proof? Of course I do. Your family’s the poorest, of course you couldn’t resist when you saw something nice.” “If you’d asked nicely I would have given it to you. But you had to steal. If that’s not having sticky fingers, what is it?” People around us whispered, many students taking out their phones to record. Theft was a scandal anywhere, especially in college! “Fine, it’s just a wallet. I’ll pay you for it.” William’s voice came from outside, the crowd parting to let him through. He seemed to be coming to my defense. But I hadn’t done anything wrong, why should I be falsely accused? I insisted: “Jessica, do you have any proof?” William frowned at me: “Wren, don’t make a big deal out of this. I can’t help you if you do.” Jessica exploded: “William Carter, are you really going to take her side? What’s so great about this poor scholarship student that you like? Without me, she’d never even have met you in this lifetime!” He wasn’t really on my side. He clearly didn’t believe me either, just wanted to save face by stepping in. But Jessica recklessly pressed on: “I’ll tell you what, I’ve already found the wallet in her locker.” Her friends also testified: “We really saw the wallet in her locker with our own eyes.” “Wren Fisher, what else do you have to say for yourself!” “Someone with sticky fingers like you doesn’t deserve to be at our school! You should be expelled!” The accusatory gazes around me felt like nails being driven in. Jessica walked up to me haughtily, whispering: “You’re not worthy of competing with me!” But I just smiled, directly connecting my phone to the classroom’s big screen. “Then let everyone see how the wallet ended up in my locker.”

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My sister-in-law and I were pregnant at the same time. After giving birth, she constantly borrowed baby supplies from me. I advised her that every baby is different and needs individual care, but she mocked me for being stingy. Later, she unknowingly took some baby food from me that contained peanuts. Her child had a severe allergic reaction, with throat swelling leading to suffocation and death. In her grief-stricken state, she stabbed me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day I gave birth. “Snow, where did you put that pregnancy oil?” My husband had just returned home with a bag when Amber, my sister-in-law, barged in uninvited. Seeing her rummaging through my room, I instinctively shrank back. Just ten minutes ago, I had died at Amber’s hands. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in the late stages of pregnancy. When we first found out we were pregnant, my mother-in-law was grinning from ear to ear, clapping her hands and saying it was a double blessing. Only after reliving this life did I realize that this was the beginning of all misfortune. “Snow, come on, help me look for it!” Amber urged impatiently, searching through my things as if she were in her own home. Taking things from me had become her habit. My nails dug into my palms as I suppressed the hatred welling up inside me, trying to keep my voice calm. “Amber, we’re out of pregnancy oil. If you like it, I can send you the link to buy it later.” She paused and turned to look at me, her tone dissatisfied: “I’m worried about the safety of that pregnancy oil, so I’m just trying to test it out for you. We’re family, why are you being so defensive?” “Besides, you’ve already bought it, why should I buy another one? Isn’t that a waste of money?” This was the excuse she always used when taking things from me. She claimed she was kindly testing things for me, but when something actually went wrong, she took my life without hesitation. Living this life again, I didn’t want to lose my life because of her penny-pinching habits. I tried to reason with her politely: “I just ran out, actually. I feel like my stretch marks have faded quite a bit lately, so I’m not buying any more for now.” Amber’s face changed, a hint of anger in her voice: “If you’re not buying any, what am I supposed to use? Surely Kevin’s not so tight on money?” I feigned confusion: “Can’t you just buy your own? Didn’t Eric just buy a BMW last week? Surely he can afford a bottle of oil.” Hearing this, Amber turned to face me, her tone boastful: “My husband can afford a BMW because I’m frugal and save money wherever I can. Not like you, spending over a hundred dollars on a bottle of oil.” I laughed inwardly. So taking things from me was your way of saving money.

Just as she finished speaking, Kevin came out of the bathroom and opened the door, catching the end of Amber’s words. Acting as if he hadn’t seen her, he handed me the bag he was carrying. A hint of tenderness spread across his face as he kissed my forehead: “You’ve been working hard, honey. I noticed you ran out of oil yesterday, so I stopped by the mall after work and bought you a new bottle. I’ll help you apply it later.” My eyes welled up, and I nuzzled against him affectionately. Actually, Kevin had never supported Amber taking things from me. It was just that I was too soft-hearted and could never refuse Amber’s requests. Kevin never blamed me for it. Instead, he started buying two of everything, worried that I wouldn’t have anything left after Amber took things. A few times when he forgot, Amber would mock him with cold sarcasm, saying he had no sense of responsibility. Causing both families to go without. Kevin was an upright person who wouldn’t argue with a woman, let alone gossip about his brother. He was left red-faced and embarrassed several times by her scolding. Even though it was Amber who was taking things from us, she made both of us hang our heads in shame. The losses I suffered in my previous life, I would pay back in full this time around. Amber had been staring intently at the shopping bag since Kevin entered. Hearing his words, she chimed in again inappropriately: “So you did buy a new one? Kevin’s so generous, willing to spend money on you.” “Let me help you open it.” She started walking towards me. I quickly covered the bag in my hands: “Actually, this is a gift for one of Kevin’s big clients. His wife is pregnant, and Kevin just closed a deal with him, so it’s a bit of a personal favor.” I winked at Kevin: “Right, honey?” Kevin immediately understood my meaning and nodded repeatedly. “That’s right, I was able to meet my target this quarter thanks to that client.” Amber frowned: “What a coincidence?” “How come when I ask to borrow something, you say it’s a gift? You’re not just trying to avoid lending it to me, are you?” I raised my voice, pretending to be angry: “Amber, how can you think that of me? When have I ever refused to give you something you asked for? How about this: I’ll give you this bottle of oil, and if Kevin doesn’t meet his sales target next quarter and doesn’t get his bonus, we’ll just borrow some money from Eric to pay the mortgage. How’s that?” Hearing that we might ask to borrow money from her family, Amber withdrew her outstretched hand. “Forget it, I’m not the kind of person who takes advantage of others.” With that, she hurriedly left, afraid we might ask to borrow money the next second. Hearing the front door close, I finally let out a sigh of relief.

Getting rid of her once doesn’t mean getting rid of her for life. Maybe it was due to pregnancy hormones, but after being reborn, I kept having nightmares. The fear of dying under a barrage of knife strikes in my previous life turned into an abyss pulling at my body every night. “Honey, wake up.” I escaped from the nightmare, cold sweat streaming down my body. Kevin’s face gradually came into focus under the bedside lamp, and I finally broke down in tears. I’m not a strong-willed person. Even after being reborn, I could only cautiously deal with Amber. So I spilled everything about my previous life to Kevin. Kevin patted my back soothingly. I cried for a long time before lifting my head from his embrace. “Do you believe me?” Rebirth is such an absurd thing to talk about, I wasn’t sure if Kevin would look at me strangely. Kevin sighed and wiped the sweat from my forehead. “The branch in Sun City has sent transfer orders several times. I’ve been refusing because I was worried about you traveling while pregnant.” “Since that’s the case, let’s move!” The next day, Amber came knocking on our door early in the morning. I opened the door groggily to see Amber reaching out her hand to me. “Give me your car keys. My brother says he wants to go on a road trip.” “Oh, and the gas tank is full, right?” I was still a bit dazed from just waking up. Seeing no response from me, Amber walked right in and sat on our couch, shoes and all. “What are you waiting for? Hurry up and give them to me.” I suddenly remembered that in my previous life, Amber had borrowed my car too. Her brother had just graduated from college and was clamoring to go on a road trip to Xinjiang with his classmates. Because I was pregnant and didn’t have much chance to drive, I simply lent it to her. But I never expected Amber to be so presumptuous. Not only did she make me fill up the gas tank, but she also repeatedly asked me to transfer money to her brother for gas during the trip, threatening to abandon the car on the road and make her brother take the high-speed rail back if I didn’t. The car was a wedding gift from my family, so I couldn’t possibly let her abandon it on the road. I had no choice but to give in and send money for gas. When her brother returned, the car was filthy and the seats were badly damaged. When I sent it to the repair shop, Amber disappeared. The next time we met, she didn’t mention compensation at all. I calmly replied: “Didn’t Eric just buy a new car?” “My husband’s car is too expensive to lend to my brother for such a long trip. Your car isn’t worth much, so it’s perfect for him to practice with.” “Don’t you have your own car?” “I need my car too. If I lend it to him, what am I supposed to drive?” I almost laughed at her words. Amber really knew how to be generous with other people’s possessions. “I can’t lend you the car. I’m planning to sell it at the used car dealership tomorrow.” This was true. After discussing moving with Kevin, I had decided to sell the car. Amber was stunned, her tone agitated: “Why are you selling the car?” She looked as if I was selling her car. “The economy’s been tough this year, and our income has dropped. I want to help lighten Kevin’s burden a bit.” “How about this then: wait until my brother gets back from his road trip before you sell it? It won’t make much difference to wait a bit longer.” She spoke reasonably, but I hadn’t forgotten. The sorry state of the car after lending it to her in my previous life meant I would have to sell it at a huge discount even if I could sell it. An idea came to me: “How about this: if your brother really needs a car urgently, I can sell it to him at a discount. What do you think?” “I bought this car for 188,000, and it only has about 10,000 miles on it. I’ll give you a friendly price of 160,000.” Amber fell silent, muttering: “Forget it, forget it. Can’t count on you for anything.” Then she turned and left our house. I watched her retreating back, feeling a sense of satisfaction welling up inside me. It turns out that refusing unreasonable requests from others feels so good!

When Kevin came home that evening, he told me he had accepted the company’s transfer order. In half a month, after handing over his work, we could leave this place. Originally, it would have been most stable for Kevin to stay local. If it weren’t for my constant yielding, it wouldn’t have fueled Amber’s arrogant behavior. From the time we first got married, when she proposed sharing the wedding venue to save money. But she used the venue I had carefully selected to hold her ceremony first. By the time Kevin and I walked down the aisle, the guests had already started to leave. Later, when I was pregnant and bought a lot of supplements due to my poor health, she naturally took some away. Time and time again, taking things from me became a matter of course. If I hadn’t been reborn, I probably would have continued to give in. The next day, just as I was about to drive the car to the used car dealership, I found several deep scratches on the body, as if made by some sharp object. A large patch of paint had also fallen off the surface. I looked around and noticed that the security camera facing the parking spot was blocked by a balloon. It was clearly planned by someone. Just yesterday I said I was going to sell the car, and today this happened. I steadied myself, holding my belly, trying to stay calm. Just as I was about to call the insurance company to report it, Amber came running from afar. When she saw the car, a flash of satisfaction crossed her eyes. “Snow, what happened to your car?” “I don’t know, someone scratched it.” She smirked, her eyes fixed on the car body: “How careless. With the car scratched like this, can you even sell it today?” Seeing her like this, I suddenly wasn’t angry anymore. I waved my hand at her: “It’s fine. Kevin installed a dashcam for safety when I got pregnant. This is clearly malicious damage. Once I send the dashcam footage to the insurance company, they’ll easily find the culprit.” Amber froze. Seeing that I was about to make a call, she panicked and pressed down on my hand: “Snow, don’t be so hasty to call the insurance company. The scratches don’t look that deep. You can just touch up the paint yourself.” I pretended to be angry and raised my voice: “Amber, what are you saying? Malicious damage to someone else’s property is a crime. It could even lead to jail time. How can I let someone like that continue to commit crimes? Besides, with the car scratched like this, I probably can’t get a good price even if I sell it.” Hearing me mention crime, Amber’s face turned even paler:

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I rushed to the hospital with homemade chicken noodle soup after my boyfriend fell ill, only to overhear his conversation with a friend: “Now that the one that got away is back, it’s time for the stand-in of three years to exit the stage, right?” “After you break up with her, let me have a go. I’ve never been with a girl like that before.” There was no expected rebuttal. Arlo’s tone was indifferent. “Sure, she’s pretty easy anyway. Just sweet talk her a bit and you can get her into bed.” That night, I discovered his secret Instagram account. It documented years of pining for his first love. Without confrontation or entanglement, I calmly booked a flight to Paris. On our third anniversary, Arlo slipped and fell at work, spraining his ankle. I rushed to the hospital after getting his call. He explained he was hurrying to the restaurant, afraid I’d wait too long, and accidentally fell. I took a few days off work to stay by his bedside and take care of him. On the day he was discharged, some friends came to visit. I went home to make chicken noodle soup, feeling reassured. The thermos in my arms held freshly made soup as I hurried back to the hospital, timing it perfectly. The door to the room was ajar. As I approached, I overheard voices inside. Arlo’s good friend Milo was patting his shoulder, his expression amused. “You didn’t have to be so excited just because Sage’s back. Rushing to pick her up from the airport and falling down the stairs?” Hearing the name “Sage”, my heart skipped a beat. She was part of Arlo’s close-knit group of friends from college – three guys and one girl. Sage was Arlo’s college girlfriend. They dated for two years before breaking up when she went abroad. Even so, everyone in their group still considered them a perfect match. I’d occasionally hear the other two guys tease Arlo about it. In their eyes, if Sage hadn’t left, there’s no way I would have ended up with Arlo. He used to always refute those comments. But this time, perhaps because I wasn’t around, Arlo remained silent. Milo was still grinning: “Now that the one that got away is back, when are you going to dump the stand-in?” “After you break up, can I go after her? I’ve never been with a girl like that.” Arlo finally looked up at this, frowning as he smacked Milo’s arm. “Sage hasn’t said anything yet. What’s the rush?” “Besides, I’m not fully recovered. I still need her to take care of me at home.” My ears were ringing. After the initial shock came a numb daze. Milo didn’t seem to care much. He casually peeled an orange I had bought. “She looks so innocent, but you always tell me how wild she is in bed.” “I’m really curious about that contrast.” I stood there clutching the warm thermos, in the warm hospital room, yet felt like I’d been plunged into ice water. I never imagined my boyfriend of three years would disparage me like this behind my back. Arlo’s voice came through the door, cold and devoid of any warmth: “If you want to pursue her, go ahead. She’s desperate for love anyway, easy to get.” “I just had to sweet talk her a bit back then, and I got her into bed.” My breath caught, a knife twisting in my chest. I heard the two of them chuckling softly in the room, and suddenly felt nauseous. I covered my mouth and ran to the bathroom, retching a few times as tears streamed down my face. So the man I’d loved deeply for three years only saw me as a replacement for the one that got away. I thought he just didn’t love me as much, but I never imagined he despised me to this extent behind my back. He not only didn’t love me, but didn’t even see me as a person. To him, I seemed no different than trash on the street. As the illusion shattered, I could hardly believe the man I wanted to spend my life with could be so despicable at his core. Looking back, Arlo’s friends always felt free to joke about him and other women right in front of me. Who knows how they talked about me behind my back. When his friends came over, they always treated me like a maid. And his friends disrespecting me was essentially done with his permission and encouragement. He only put on an act of being upright in front of me. I wiped away my tears and threw the chicken noodle soup I’d spent two hours making into the trash. The thought of breaking up had never been so clear as in this moment. When I walked into the hospital room, I had mostly steadied my emotions. Arlo frowned when he saw me return empty-handed, clearly displeased: “Didn’t you say you were going home to make soup for me? Why did you come back empty-handed?” Milo chimed in. “Yeah Zinnia, Arlo was just telling me how thoughtful you are.” Milo had a look of anticipation as he added meaningfully: “Zinnia, you might not have many chances left to make soup for Arlo.” I instinctively looked at Arlo, but saw he had no intention of stopping Milo. I guess now that Sage was back, he wanted to dump me right away. Arlo wasn’t even bothering to pretend anymore, or maybe he wanted to “punish” me a bit for my “disobedience”. I remained silent, my eyes fixed on Arlo. This was the man I had loved deeply for three years. I used to think that even if Arlo didn’t love me enough, my love for him would be sufficient. Or maybe one day he would be moved by my devotion? But everything was mocking how naive I had been. “It didn’t turn out well today. I drank it all myself.” I smiled, picking up the lightest bag as I hurried out of the room. “Let’s pack up and go home.” I no longer wanted to lug all the luggage like a servant, as I had always done before. The atmosphere was cold on the way home. Arlo was still angry with me. But I had no intention of appeasing him. I needed time to soothe my own emotions too. As soon as we got home, Arlo’s other friend Ryan showed up. He was carrying a cat in his arms, grinning as he barged in. I’ve had severe cat allergies since childhood. Startled, I covered my nose and backed away. “Arlo, didn’t you tell them I’m allergic to cats?!” I frowned, staring intently at the ragdoll cat in Ryan’s arms, not daring to let my guard down for a moment. When I was little, I accidentally hugged a neighbor’s cat and ended up in the hospital for a whole week. “Zinnia, why are you so delicate?” Before Arlo could speak, Ryan rolled his eyes at me. “This is Sage’s ragdoll cat. It’s super expensive, imported from abroad. I begged her for days to let me bring it over to play with.” “Zinnia Wilson, don’t be so inconsiderate.” Arlo had been unhappy with my attitude, feeling he’d lost face in front of his friend. Now he finally found an outlet for his frustration. His expression was icy. “It’s just a cat, it’s not going to kill you, is it?” He no longer hid his disdain for me, even trying to shove the cat Ryan was holding into my arms. “I’m going to break you of this habit. What’s the big deal about a cat?” Arlo knew full well how severe my allergic reactions could be, but at this moment he didn’t care about me at all. I kept dodging as Arlo kept advancing. The ragdoll cat, its neck pinched painfully by Arlo, let out a sharp cry and lunged at me out of control. Even though I reacted immediately, the cat’s claws still left a mark on my neck, and I inhaled a mouthful of cat fur. Half a minute later, I started having difficulty breathing, my heart racing, and breaking out in a cold sweat. “Quick… call an ambulance.” Arlo scoffed: “Zinnia Wilson, stop pretending.” It was Ryan who noticed my face growing increasingly pale and spoke up. “Arlo, Zinnia doesn’t look like she’s faking. We should call 911 quickly!” In the moment of hesitation, I collapsed heavily to the ground. Before losing consciousness, I saw Arlo’s panicked expression as he, Ryan and Milo scrambled to call an ambulance. When I woke up, I was alone in a dark hospital room. Because of their so-called prank, I had nearly gone into shock and been rushed to the hospital. And now there wasn’t a single person by my side. A nurse came in and turned on the lights, helping me change my IV drip. “Your cat allergy symptoms are extremely severe. You absolutely must avoid contact with cats in the future.” I smiled bitterly and asked: “Nurse, may I ask when the people who brought me in left?” “You mean those three men?” The nurse frowned. “They left once they knew your life wasn’t in danger.” Her expression was one of disbelief: “Weren’t they just strangers who happened to help?” I forced a smile: “One of them is my boyfriend.” “Though not for much longer.” I opened my phone to see a message from Arlo. “We went out for dinner. If you’re fine, just go home on your own.” Milo had posted on Instagram 20 minutes ago. “So happy to reunite with old friends!” The photo showed the four of them, with Arlo gazing lovingly at the girl beside him. He and Sage seemed to be looking at each other adoringly, their eyes full of undisguised affection. Looking at this photo, I finally couldn’t hold back my tears, my chest aching to the point of suffocation. At this point, I had no reason left to deceive myself. The person Arlo truly liked was Sage. To him, if Sage was willing to come back to him, I would lose all value. I suddenly remembered that Arlo would often type on Instagram, but I had never seen him post anything. A possibility arose in my mind, and I searched for clues in his social media accounts. Arlo’s Instagram was empty, but I found an account called “Remembering Her” in his following list. With trembling hands, I clicked on it and found that the IP matched. This user had been updating continuously for six years, with hundreds of dense posts. It was like I had accidentally opened Pandora’s box. The contents inside left me speechless. It was all about Sage, every word and line filled with suppressed love and obsession. The account started as a record of their romance, and later became Arlo’s endless pining for Sage. “November 9, 2021: I’m with someone else now. I won’t wait for you anymore.” That was the day I don’t know how many times I had actively confessed to him, and Arlo finally agreed to be with me. It turns out it wasn’t because he was moved by me, but because Sage had left the country that day. “March 10, 2022: I slept with someone else. It’s your fault for dating other people.” I remember Arlo was drunk that night, clinging to me and not letting me leave. In the end, he sweet-talked me into sleeping with him. “May 16, 2023: Are you really not coming back? I hate you. I’ll never forgive you!” That year, Arlo held me tight and took out a diamond ring from his pocket to put on my finger. He looked at me tenderly and promised: “Zinnia, I will marry you.” I took a deep breath, not having the courage to read on. I scrolled directly to the most recent update, which was from not long ago: “I’ve lost to you again. After all these years, I still can’t let go. I will always love only you.” The accompanying photo was of the two of them together. They were holding hands tightly, smiles of happiness on their faces. Tears fell uncontrollably, dripping onto my phone screen and blurring my vision. The deception and betrayal cut me to the core, leaving my heart bleeding. It turns out that throughout our three years together, not a moment of Arlo’s love belonged to me. Young love burns hot and true, persisting for many years. Arlo was willing to overcome all obstacles, just to have Sage again. Even though she had left him for so many years, abandoned him, he still gladly offered up his heart. But what about me? My whole body shook as realization dawned. No wonder Arlo never argued with me – he simply didn’t care. No wonder Arlo never cared about my state – I just wasn’t important to him. No wonder he got so excited he fell down the stairs and broke his leg – it wasn’t because he was rushing to see me, but because Sage’s sudden return had thrown his heart into chaos. I barely steadied my thoughts and took screenshots of everything, preserving the evidence. This is for the best. At least I won’t soften my resolve now. If I hadn’t accidentally overheard him talking about me like that behind my back today, if I hadn’t found his secret Instagram account, I might have been kept in the dark my whole life, mistakenly thinking he had truly given up on the one that got away. I’ve now seen through Arlo’s cultured facade to his filthy inner self, and learned that all those intimate moments of love were just an illusion. Now there’s no reason left to continue this relationship. At that moment, my boss called. I took a deep breath, trying not to let anything show in my voice. “Zinnia, there’s an opportunity to work at our Paris branch office. I wanted to ask if you’d be interested.” “You’d start directly as a director. It’s quite a rare opportunity.” My boss tried to persuade me. Actually, this wasn’t the first time a promotion opportunity had landed on me. Last time, because I wanted to settle down with Arlo, I righteously refused the chance to go to France, even though it had been a dream I once cherished. But now, there was no reason left worth giving up my dreams for. “Thank you for this opportunity. I’d be happy to work in Paris.” The determination to break up had never been so strong. My brain was urgently sending signals of self-preservation. Even if my heart was being cut to pieces, I was willing to endure this pain. After hanging up, I immediately booked a flight to Paris for a few days later. After being discharged, I went straight home to pack all my belongings. During this time, I didn’t run into Arlo. He was probably still busy accompanying Sage. The next day, sitting in the taxi to the airport, I saw Arlo’s secret Instagram account had updated last night: “Meeting again, emotions beyond control.” The photo showed him and Sage holding hands. I calmly scrolled past, but my heart still ached dully. Arlo suddenly texted me, probably having noticed the changes at home. “You were discharged yesterday? Where are you?” I didn’t respond. He called countless times, all of which I hung up on. Until one minute before boarding the plane, an unknown number called. I answered, hearing Arlo’s anxious voice: “Zinnia Wilson, where did you go? When did you come home?” I laughed silently, calmly replying. “Arlo, I know Sage is back.” “She’s the one you truly love, right?” I smirked self-mockingly, mercilessly exposing his scheme. “Now that the one that got away is back, it’s natural for the stand-in to exit the stage.” The boarding announcement came at just the right moment. I heard Arlo gritting his teeth as he demanded: “Zinnia Wilson, where exactly are you?”

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It was a stormy night. The school bus driver had called in sick, unable to take the children home. As the class advisor, I remained unmoved as the children cried and begged me to drive them home. In my previous life, I had given in to my daughter’s pleas and chose to drive the children home myself. As an inexperienced driver, I had managed to successfully deliver each child to their home, trembling with nervousness the entire time. The next day, the entire class collectively boycotted school. Not a single student showed up. A crowd of parents stormed the school, accusing me of failing to protect their children as the class advisor. My beaten colleagues vented their frustrations on me. “Didn’t you promise to get the children home safely? Why have they all disappeared?” they demanded. “Child trafficker! You deserve to die!” someone shouted. I desperately tried to defend myself, but the police arrived with criminals in tow who accused me of being their accomplice. Even my own daughter tearfully stood up and accused me of violently abusing the children. I stared at my daughter in shock as she produced a surveillance video. The footage showed me wielding a cane, bringing it down hard on the children as they cried out in pain. The people around me angrily denounced me as a monster. My husband even provided a video of me privately cursing the children. I found myself universally condemned. Despite multiple appeals to prove my innocence, the surveillance footage and videos nailed me to the pillar of shame. I was immediately sentenced to death. When I opened my eyes again, I had somehow returned to that fateful rainy night. My daughter, Tiana Quinn, looked at me pleadingly. “Mom, Miss Yolanda said only you can drive the school bus. Please help my classmates, okay?” Outside the office, over twenty children stood pitifully in the rain, their eyes glistening with tears. They begged, “Mrs. White, please help us. Otherwise, we’ll have to stay at school in the rain all night.” I couldn’t help but think of the tragic outcome from my previous life, my body trembling uncontrollably. I shook my head repeatedly. “No, I’m just the class advisor. I don’t have approval to use the school bus. I can’t possibly drive it.” The children’s expressions dimmed. They hung their heads dejectedly. My office colleagues finally couldn’t bear to watch any longer. “Mrs. Brown, the children are getting soaked. Who cares about approval at a time like this?” one said. “Exactly! How can you be so cold-hearted as their class advisor?” another chimed in. “If I knew how to drive, I’d definitely take the children home myself,” a third added. A chorus of complaints and accusations suddenly flooded my ears. I was momentarily speechless, my gaze suddenly fixed on the window outside. My husband, Ezra Quinn, came rushing in, the smile on his face instantly turning to concern when he met my eyes. “Your school bus driver has a high fever and can’t pick up the kids. We’ve coordinated with our side,” he explained. “We can’t spare anyone from our company at the moment, so I went ahead and got approval from your school leaders. Can you fill in for now?” I stared hard at Ezra. That was awfully quick. My daughter instantly brightened. “That’s great, Mom! Now that you have approval, you can take my classmates home, right?” I still refused. Looking at Ezra, I said apologetically, “I only recently learned to drive. I’m afraid something might happen with such a big bus full of students.” “Why don’t you do it? I remember you know how to drive the school bus too.” Ezra’s expression froze. When he recovered, he shook his head repeatedly. “No, no, I haven’t driven a big vehicle in over a decade. It would be truly irresponsible if I tried.” His expression gradually turned strange. “I know you’ve never liked these kids much, but you’re their class advisor. It’s your responsibility to get them home safely.” My heart skipped a beat. Seeing Ezra about to take out his phone, my eyes darkened. “I’ll make sure to get the children home safely,” I said. My husband instantly relaxed. He smiled and picked up our daughter. “Then I’ll take our daughter home first to wait for you.” Tiana’s face lit up with a big smile. “Bye, Mom!” That strange feeling crept over me again. Nevertheless, I led the group of children onto the bus. The bus was covered in cobwebs, looking as if it hadn’t been driven in years. As I sat in the driver’s seat, a stinging sensation spread across my arm. The next moment, a rash of tiny bumps erupted all over my skin. I paused, looking at my exposed arm. In my previous life, the same thing had happened when I boarded the bus – a rash of tiny bumps appeared, and I developed a fever while on the bus. I had assumed it was from getting rained on. After a moment’s thought, I immediately called an old classmate. The children’s impatient voices came from behind me: “Mrs. Brown, when can we leave?” I snapped back to reality. I turned to face them with a smile. “Don’t worry, everyone. I promise I’ll get you all home safely!” Cheers erupted from behind me as I decisively drove the bus in the opposite direction. At the hospital entrance, I stopped the bus. My old classmate hurried over to take over. “I’ve got the students from here. You go on ahead,” he said. Twenty minutes later, I received a call from Ezra. He sounded like he’d taken the wrong medication: “Why haven’t you delivered everyone yet?” “Don’t you know all the parents have been calling?” “Where are you right now?” I looked up at the emergency room sign and replied curtly, “Hospital emergency room.” He paused, then said urgently, “I’m coming to find you!” The call ended with just a busy signal. Coming out of the emergency room, I ran right into Ezra. His face was grim as he launched into a tirade: “Which is more important, the kids or you? Not taking the children home first is literally gambling with their lives!” “Letting someone like you be a teacher – they must be blind!” My heart sank lower and lower. I had heard such words countless times before. “Lark Brown, you’re a disgrace to the teaching profession!” “You’re so useless, don’t corrupt those children!” “The school leaders must be blind to let someone like you be a teacher!” Each word stabbed at my heart. I had once fallen into depression and anxiety because of such words, questioning myself over and over again. I had taken antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication by the handful. Hearing it now, I just found it somewhat amusing. I gave Ezra a cold look. His expression froze. He seemed somewhat embarrassed and angry. “You’re glaring at me now! Am I not telling the truth?” he demanded. “Look at yourself! How did you insult those children behind their backs?” “You even said you’d sell the children! I bet you meant it!” His heated words drew quite a crowd. The phone video clearly transmitted my abusive language to everyone’s ears. The onlookers grew furious. “What kind of teacher are you? The children have become a burden in your eyes?” “You don’t deserve to be a teacher!” “Which school do you teach at? We’ll make sure to spread the word!” The accusations left me feeling suffocated. The world seemed to sway before my eyes. In my daze, I thought I saw Ezra smile. Then he bowed deeply to the crowd. “I’m terribly sorry for upsetting everyone.” “But the school bus driver is sick today, and my wife is the only one who can drive the big bus.” “Please give my wife a chance. Let her take those children home first.” I unconsciously followed Ezra’s lead and bowed as well. As I bent over, a child nearby crashed into me hard, knocking me to the ground. I suddenly came to my senses. Although the crowd was still angry, when they heard there were children waiting for me to take them home, they didn’t rebuke me further. I vaguely heard someone say, “It’s a good thing this teacher’s husband is sensible. Otherwise those poor children would really be in trouble.” Ezra looked at me imperiously. “Hurry up and go take the children home. What are you standing around for?” I didn’t move. Ezra’s expression became strangely bewildered. I finally explained, “I have a fever. If I force myself to drive, an accident could easily happen.” “I can’t be responsible for so many children’s lives!” With that, Ezra’s face darkened completely. One of his fists was clenched tight, while the other hand was hidden behind his back. After a moment, he sneered, “Still pretending to be sick? I bet you’re just trying to meet up with someone.” “After all, you have a record of contacting suspects.” My husband kept producing evidence to corroborate my alleged contact with suspects. The crowd’s chatter had already nailed me as a child trafficker. Someone even called the police to arrest me. I bit my lip, not knowing how to defend myself. At some point, Yolanda had hurried over. She was soaking wet, her exposed skin flushed red. When she reached me, she broke into a fit of heavy coughing, doubling over. After a long while, she finally straightened up. With reddened eyes, she bowed deeply to me. “Mrs. Brown, please don’t be angry. I’m so sorry,” she said. “It’s my fault for getting sick. I’ll take over the school bus now and get the children home safely.” Her nasally voice immediately swayed everyone’s sympathy towards her. “Is this the school bus driver?” “Look what this teacher has reduced the poor driver to.” “If you ask me, she’s just jealous that this driver is younger and prettier than her. She wants to make her lose her job.” There was a hint of triumph in Yolanda’s eyes. She asked, “Mrs. Brown, where are the children? Can you take me to pick them up first?” “I just went to the school bus and saw it was empty—” With those words, everyone exploded. They all stared at me in disbelief: “You really sold the children?” Yolanda also looked incredulous, her eyes wide and tearful. “Mrs. Brown, how could you do this?” “Those children adored you the most!” They didn’t give me a chance to respond. Several parents rushed over. With bloodshot eyes, they grabbed my collar: “Lark Brown! What did my child ever do to you that you had to sell them?” “I always thought you were a good teacher! I was so wrong about you!” With that, a fist mercilessly slammed into my eye. I winced in pain, frowning deeply. The person holding me clearly had no intention of letting go. They only wanted their children back now: “Lark Brown, give me back my child!” “He’s my only child, you’re destroying our whole family!” Behind me, an old woman’s heart-wrenching cries rang out with genuine emotion. For the sake of her grandchild, she knelt down before me. She kept kowtowing, begging: “Mrs. Brown, if it’s money you want, I’ll give you as much as you ask. I’m begging you, please give my grandchild back to me.” At this moment, my throat felt painfully constricted. The people attacking me kept beating me, while the old woman kept crying and shouting. The scene was utter chaos. “Grandma, please get up! This teacher with no ethics doesn’t deserve your kneeling!” someone urged. “Get up quickly, there are so many of us here. We won’t let a child trafficker escape!” “That’s right, how could we let one person get away with trafficking children?” The old woman ignored all this. She cried and shouted for me to release her grandson. Her forehead was already bleeding. The crowd’s anger towards me grew heavier and heavier. Until I was beaten within an inch of my life. Someone grabbed me by the collar and lifted me up. “Come on, I’m taking this child trafficker to the police station. I want to see how long she can keep acting tough!” We had only reached the hospital entrance when a group of police officers blocked our path. “Who is Lark Brown?” one asked. “Someone reported you for human trafficking crimes!” “Officer, she’s right here!” someone called out. I was thrown to the ground. At last I could finally catch my breath. After a long while, I managed to climb to my feet with a bitter smile. “Officer, I reported myself. I may have been involved in human trafficking.” Someone finally couldn’t hold back: “If you were involved then you were involved, what do you mean ‘may have been’!” “The police are already here, are you still trying to deny it?” “What? You think using vague words means you don’t have to face legal consequences?” Angry, they kicked me. I staggered and fell to the ground. The police officer swept his gaze over the crowd and said coldly, “Calm down!” He looked down at me and had someone help me up. “What happened? Explain yourself!” After a long while, I shook my head to clear the double vision. “I was poisoned which caused hallucinations. I was going to sell the children.” The old woman rushed over and grabbed my collar, demanding: “You really sold the children? Are you even human!” “Poisoned? Do you look like someone who’s been poisoned?” Ezra gave a cold laugh. I didn’t respond to him, but stood up and handed the medical report I had gotten from the emergency room to the police officer. “You can take a look. The poison wasn’t severe, but enough to cause a high fever and hallucinations.” “In an unclear state of mind, I may have acted in ways that went against my true intentions.” The police officer looked shocked as he examined the report. After staring at it for a long time, he said, “We’ll thoroughly verify the information you’ve provided.” “We’ll take you home first.” The crowd stared at the police officer in shock. “Officer, she sold children. Why can she go home?” “Shouldn’t she be taken to the station at a time like this?” Ezra panicked and hurriedly blocked the police officer’s path.

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