Category: English

I dedicated two years to caring for Julian, who was paralyzed. Everyone believed the first thing he’d do after standing again was marry me. Only I, on the night his surgery succeeded, asked, “Do you still want to marry me?” He hesitated. That simple answer, he never quite said it. I let out a soft laugh. “I get it.” I took off the ring and, that very night, left the place I’d called home for two years without a second thought. **1** “Do you still want to marry me?” Julian froze slightly at my words, staring at his legs for a long moment before speaking. The commotion from outside drifted in through the slightly ajar door. “The doctor said Julian’s surgery was a huge success. He’ll be back to normal in less than half a month.” “I seriously never thought he’d recover. Two years ago, he’d practically given up on himself.” “Thanks to Elara, sticking by him through thick and thin. They’re definitely getting married, right? We should start preparing wedding gifts.” … Julian heard these teasing congratulations, but he still didn’t say anything. An awkward silence hung in the air. Finally, I stood up, kneading his knees and calves like I always did. I gently offered him an out, “Is this pressure okay?” That broke the uncomfortable quiet. His tense body gradually relaxed. I softly asked again, just like I had for two years, “Are you uncomfortable?” He shook his head, then earnestly replied, “No, you’re better than any physical therapist.” I stared at my hands, massaging his legs. Honestly, when I started, I had no idea what I was doing. He couldn’t stand being touched by professional physical therapists. Whenever one arrived, he’d throw a fit and send them away. But massage was crucial for his legs, so I spent three months learning from a local wellness center owner. From experimenting with different lotions and techniques on myself, sometimes to the point of soreness, I finally cautiously began massaging his legs. The first time, I only dared to massage him when he was asleep. But he was a light sleeper, and he still caught me. He erupted, “Get out!” I didn’t leave. I followed the pressure points the wellness center owner had taught me, massaging him again. His legs couldn’t move, so he threw his pillow at my head. I didn’t flinch. He just started throwing anything he could grab within reach. Finally, a photo frame flew towards me. Inside was a picture from his college days: one hand holding a trophy, the other clenched in a fist, full of youthful vigor. When warm blood trickled down my forehead, he stared at me, struggling to get to my side, but his restricted legs made him helpless. Finally, he covered his face and suddenly sobbed. “Go. Just go. Don’t stay with me. “It’s useless. I can’t feel anything. No matter how much you massage, it’s no use.” **2** Back then, he’d completely given up on himself. I’d come over every day, rain or shine, to massage him. Until his mother found him after he’d taken sleeping pills and rushed him to the hospital. His mother was at her wit’s end with him. I knelt in front of him and said, “Look at me.” He quietly looked up. I told him, “Everything’s going to be okay. Trust me.” At that moment, I had no idea where I found that confidence. From that day on, I moved into his house. Mrs. Davies cried, thanking me over and over, saying how lucky they were to have me. She seemed to hesitate, and I knew what she wanted to ask. So I said, “As long as Julian doesn’t tell me to leave, I’ll stay by his side.” But the truth was, even if he *had* told me to leave, I still wouldn’t have gone. Another time, when the massage seemed to have no effect, he exploded. “Get out! All of you, get out!” By then, he was in a wheelchair. His entire bedroom was smashed to pieces. But at least, he finally avoided throwing things at me. After he’d finished venting, I knelt beside him. I said it again, “Julian, trust me.” That simple phrase, I said it for two whole years. Gradually, he began to feel the pressure in his legs, and then slowly, he could do some simple movements. Until yesterday’s surgery, even the doctors were amazed, saying it was a great success. If all went well, he’d be able to stand again. **3** When Mrs. Davies heard the news, she slipped a bank card into my hand. I stared at the card, feeling dazed. These past two years, I wasn’t doing it for a bank card. Julian’s friends all called me ‘sister-in-law,’ but only I knew the truth. I wasn’t a ‘sister-in-law’ at all. We never even talked about being together, let alone made things official. But at least I had Julian’s promise: “Elara, once my legs are better, we’ll get married right away.” That was during his first treatment session. The doctor had regretfully implied a bleak outlook, and I was pushing him home. He completely broke down the moment he entered the house. The golden boy, who once had it all, suddenly found his world shattered. No one could accept that. I hugged him tightly. He bit down on my shoulder. He bit so hard and deep, the marks are still on my shoulder even now. When he saw the blood, he snapped back to reality, panicked, and said, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” After he apologized, I massaged his calves like always, and that’s when he said it. No, he also asked, “Elara, do you have a crush on me?” I didn’t just nod. I looked at him and said, “Yes.” He looked at me for a long time before saying he’d marry me. But everything I did wasn’t for an equal exchange. I just wanted him to feel the same way I did, praying that one day he might love me too. At that moment, I stood up like I always did, poured the massage oil into my palms, warmed it up, and then touched his calves. I knew he was watching me. After a long silence, his voice came from above my head. “Elara, you don’t have to do these things anymore.” My hands paused, but I continued with the massage. I looked up, asking again, still holding onto a sliver of hope, “Julian, do you still want to marry me?” He looked like he wanted to speak, but he kept his mouth shut. I could only laugh at myself for being so foolishly hopeful. But the ring on my ring finger, he had put it there himself. I’d had a crush on him for so many years; how could I not be foolishly hopeful? **4** I stood up and washed the massage oil off my hands. The ring on my ring finger felt like it was digging into my heart. He spoke from outside the door, “Elara, you’re like a sister to me.” Tears splashed into the water, and I quickly wiped them away. Don’t say that. Those words were too cruel to me. When I pushed open the bathroom door and stepped out, the living room was still noisy. I looked down at Julian’s eyes, and with effort, I slipped the ring off. The fit was off, it was a size too small. I didn’t know if he was careless or if it wasn’t meant for me in the first place. But I knew I’d forced it on, even though it pinched my finger. Before, I could still lie to myself that rings were supposed to be like that. When I finally took it off, my finger felt a sense of relief. I almost regretted why I hadn’t taken it off sooner. Julian’s gaze flickered away. I held the ring out to him. “Here, take it back.” The red mark on my finger was still clear. I added, “It was a size too small.” He tried to say something, but I waved him off. Then I pushed his wheelchair towards the door.

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On the ninety-ninth day after I died, Chloe brought her new boyfriend to visit my grave. She held a vibrant bouquet of flowers, nestled in his arms, and forced out two measly tears. The sight of it tore my heart to shreds. I immediately cursed the heavens for being so unfair. Even after death, I had to watch my wife flaunt her new love with another man. As my curses grew fouler, a voice suddenly echoed in front of me. **System:** [Ding! Congratulations, Host, for unlocking a stage quest. Complete it on time to earn three days in the mortal realm.] [Quest One: Make the new boyfriend dance wildly at your grave.] I instantly closed my eyes and blurted out: [Just let me stay dead.] **System:** [Rise, my love! Rise!] [Can you please give me some quests that are actually doable for a living person?] I snarled, my brow furrowed, teeth gritted. **System:** [Welcome to the underworld.] Oh right, I almost forgot. I was already dead. Now, I was just a wisp of a soul, drifting around the human world. [But this… this quest? Unless I can knock him out, drag him to the grave, and force him to dance…] **System:** [Where there’s a will, there’s a way.] Fine! Fine! Fine!

This was my ninety-ninth day after death, and my hundredth day since passing was just around the corner. I never imagined Chloe would find a new boyfriend so quickly. They walked hand-in-hand, like a groom and bride, slowly approaching me. For a moment, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I blinked, then blinked again. Nope, no tricks. This new guy was actually quite handsome, but nowhere near a fraction of how good I was. Pretty faces are a dime a dozen, but a truly interesting soul? That’s one in a million. Chloe stood at my grave, her eyes instantly welling up. As she placed the bouquet down, she gracefully knelt. “Liam, I’ve come to see you. Are you doing well over there? I’m doing quite well. You try to take care of yourself too. Remember to eat well, rest well, and don’t overwork yourself…” Chloe’s voice choked. If she hadn’t brought Julian today, if this wasn’t the first time she’d visited me since I died, I almost would’ve believed her. Bad woman! You promised you’d only love me for this lifetime. Look how fast you found someone new. Julian gazed at Chloe’s tearful face, his heart aching. He then pulled her into his embrace, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “This is the last time you cry for him. Don’t let me see it again, okay?” Chloe nestled obediently against him, a little bird seeking shelter, nodding her head. The two of them then walked away from my grave, side by side. A gust of wind swept by, and I shivered instantly. I didn’t know if it was real coldness hitting me or just a wave of disgust washing over my soul.

Julian, I actually knew him. He and Chloe had known each other since childhood, born in the same year, same month, same day. You could say they were childhood sweethearts, the kind that made everyone envious. They say a sudden, fated love can never truly win against a childhood sweetheart. But hey, didn’t I just prove them wrong? Chloe and Julian were as close as could be, thick as thieves, sharing everything. My appearance completely severed their connection, right when their “more than friends, less than lovers” phase was heating up. Chloe fell hard for my slicked-back hair, my skinny ripped jeans, and my designer loafers back then. Her eyes sparkling, she told me, “Liam, I’ll marry no one but you in this life!” And I believed her. After all, for years of marriage, we truly were deeply in love. Passersby would almost gag from how sweet we were. And Julian? I could see the suppressed anguish in his eyes, the resentment of someone whose cherished person was snatched away by me. Isn’t that just how love works? Totally unexpected, yet somehow, exactly what you’d expect. So when Chloe brought a new man, and that new man happened to be Julian… I admit, I totally lost it. Julian was practically cuddling with my wife right over my grave. I seriously wanted to bust out a song right there and then. “I could sing ‘I Will Always Love You’… nah, scratch that. How about ‘Since U Been Gone’? Or ‘Irreplaceable’? ‘Happy breakup, hope you find someone better!’” Clearly, they couldn’t hear me.

I floated out of the grave and followed them all the way back to what used to be our home. In just a short time, the place had undergone a complete transformation. I liked warm colors, but Chloe was the opposite; she loved black, white, and gray. Our tastes truly clashed. When we decorated our marital home, to satisfy both of us, half was my preference, half was hers. Now, the entire house was a dark, gloomy color. The balcony curtains were heavily drawn, letting in not a single ray of light. It looked incredibly depressing. The three wedding photos of us hanging on the wall were gone too. Taking the opportunity, I floated into the bedroom for a look. Ugh, seriously… everything was gone. Every single trace of me had completely vanished. I suddenly felt so helpless as a ghost, forced to witness these infuriating things. Chloe had been curled up on the sofa since they got back, looking sickly and down, her face pale. A few beads of sweat occasionally appeared on her forehead. This familiar sight immediately told me: her period had arrived. She had always been a bit delicate, and when her period came, it always hurt terribly. She’d always complain and lean into my arms, asking me to warm her belly. I instinctively floated over, wanting to warm her belly for her. Julian, I don’t know when, appeared with a warm herbal tea. “Chloe, drink this while it’s hot. You’ll feel better. What would you do without me, huh? You never know how to take care of yourself…” Julian said, his voice full of concern, as he helped her up and personally fed her the tea. I looked at my own translucent, ethereal hand floating in the air, feeling a little dazed. Had I forgotten something again? Julian kept chattering away as he tended to her. I wanted to slap him. Why was this guy so chatty? So fussy… But then I remembered, I used to say even more than him. “Chloe, your time of the month is coming up! Drink fewer cold drinks, eat fewer snacks! Especially ice cream—” I peered over the computer screen to see a petite figure sneaking away from the fridge, a chocolate ice cream in her hand. “Chloe! Put that thing back where it belongs, right now!” I couldn’t help but roar. Chloe immediately stopped, looking all pitiful, eyes glistening with tears. “You don’t love me anymore! You said you’d be good to me forever, and you won’t even let me have ice cream?” Ah, here we go again with that routine. I stared at her, not angry, but smiling instead. “Just one bite, don’t push it. You know how much it hurts you every month. I don’t want to nag, but… I’m just worried you’ll be in pain, okay? When you hurt, you cry, and when you cry, I have to comfort you, and then I worry you’ll cry your eyes out or tire yourself…” I prattled on, my words like a machine gun. See? Not one bit less than Julian.

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At the wedding reception, Seraphina, in her wedding gown, walked straight to her ex-boyfriend. “Brad, I can’t marry you.” “You really think Seraphina would marry a cripple like him?” the man beside her sneered. “You’re just the Sterling family’s lapdog.” I didn’t care. I simply shrugged, slipping the ring off my finger and offering it back. Later, Seraphina begged me, claiming she loved me, that she wanted to marry me. But in this new life, the debt I owed was finally paid. I looked at her, my words measured: “Seraphina, I actually never wanted to marry you.” I didn’t use my cane for the wedding ceremony. My leg was definitely getting tired now. But what truly drained me was dealing with the scene playing out. Guests whispered around us, but my fiancée had her arm wrapped around another man. I knew him. She’d dated him for three years, and after he left, she’d cried for him night after night. And now, Brad, right in front of me, was practically shouting: “You actually thought Seraphina would marry a cripple?” “Leo, you’re just the Sterling family’s lapdog. How could Miss Seraphina marry a poor nobody like you?” “Now that I’m back, you can get lost.” I looked at Seraphina, my gaze unwavering. “Seraphina, is this what you want too?” Her eyes welled up with tears, but she looked at me with conviction and said, “Leo, I can’t marry you.” “If you felt bad, you wouldn’t be doing this on our wedding day.” She could’ve called off the engagement weeks ago. But no, she had to satisfy her first love’s pathetic ego, turning me into the biggest joke of the night. “I’m sorry, Leo. You’re really a good person. You’ll find someone who loves you.” “Who’d want him, a cripple? And look at how broke he is.” Brad spoke without filter, as if that would somehow crush me. I slipped the ring off my finger and handed it to her. “You two can keep this. Maybe for your future.” Then I walked away. But what they didn’t know was, I secretly sighed in relief. I owed her a life, and now it was paid. I was finally free.

“Leo, what the hell happened?” My best friend, Mike, was ready to fight for me. “Didn’t Miss Seraphina Sterling practically beg to marry you?” “Is she treating marriage like a game?” “You almost lost your leg for her, and she’s actually dumping you for it!” I’d handled all the wedding arrangements and procedures myself. I hadn’t slept well in days, and all I wanted was to catch up on sleep. “Just let me sleep for a bit longer.” “You’re still sleeping?” Mike ripped the blanket off me. “Your fiancée just ran off with another guy, and you’re still thinking about sleep?” “Didn’t you dislike Seraphina anyway? Shouldn’t you be throwing a party now that she’s gone?” Sleep was clearly out of the question, so I sat up, annoyed. “Well, yeah, that’s true, but didn’t *you* like her?” “Mike, you probably won’t believe me, but I actually never liked her.” One look at his face, and I knew he didn’t believe me. Honestly, if I didn’t know the truth myself, I wouldn’t have either. Because the entire city knew I was madly in love with Seraphina. And my willingness to be her obedient lapdog, all for “love,” had already become the laughingstock of our entire circle. Everyone thought my days as a simp were finally over, but who’d have thought this wedding would brand me as the ultimate laughingstock? Just then, my phone rang. It was Seraphina. I didn’t want to answer, but Mike snatched it. He answered directly, “I want to hear what this heartless woman has to say.” A groggy voice came from the other end. Seraphina sounded half-asleep. “Leo, pick me up at ten. I have a beauty appointment today.” I hadn’t even spoken yet when Mike snapped, “Miss Seraphina, why don’t you have your husband pick you up? What? Did his leg break overnight?” Seraphina seemed to wake up then and quickly mumbled, “I forgot…” I chuckled. “It’s fine, Miss Seraphina. Please don’t contact me again.” “Leo, do you really have to be so formal with me? You can’t even call me by my name anymore?” She sounded so wronged. “I know you’re mad, but I really love him. You always knew that…” “Miss Seraphina, there’s no need to discuss our relationship anymore.” With that, I hung up. And blocked her on every single platform. “Leo, you actually blocked her?” Mike’s surprise made me laugh. “Why wouldn’t I?” “Come on, you always gave in when you two argued. She’s probably waiting for you to apologize. Let’s see how long you can resist contacting her this time.” “Forever.”

“You absolute disgrace!” Mr. Sterling smashed an antique right in front of me. It shattered into pieces. I didn’t even see what it was. “You really are a menace! How could you let her behave like that?” Mr. Sterling was clearly furious, his face red and his neck veins bulging. But more than anything, he was angry that we had embarrassed the family. His words sounded like he was scolding Seraphina, but they were mostly aimed at me. Scolding me for not controlling Seraphina, and for not being able to win her over from another man. “Mr. Sterling, I’m not sure what Mr. and Mrs. Sterling meant.” In other words, Seraphina’s parents were there that day, and no one intervened. They just let me be humiliated. Why was it my fault now? “Get her back here! If she doesn’t come, tell her never to bother coming back!” Mr. Sterling yelled at his son. “This is a huge scandal. If she’s not ashamed, I am.” “That… what’s his name, Brad? Wasn’t he the one who went abroad before?” Mrs. Sterling quickly nodded. “That Brad, I don’t know what kind of spell he cast on our Sera. I’m just about to lose my mind…” She started crying. Mr. Sterling tried to comfort her while speaking to Mr. Sterling senior. “I’ll make sure to discipline her properly later.” Once we left the Sterling family mansion, Mrs. Sterling immediately stopped crying. She turned to me. “You useless thing! I entrusted my precious daughter to you, and you let her run off with another man?” “Mrs. Sterling, Seraphina has always loved Brad.” “That just proves how useless you are! I don’t care what you do, even if you have to grovel, get her to come back!” I shook my head, pulled a card from my wallet, and handed it over. “Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, I’m grateful for all these years you’ve taken me in. This is the money you spent on me. I saved it for a long time. Consider it repayment for your kindness.” “Leo, what’s the meaning of this?” Mr. Sterling’s face clouded with displeasure. “Are you trying to cut ties with the Sterling family?” “No, Mr. Sterling, it’s not that. It’s just that Seraphina doesn’t want to marry me, and I don’t want to force her.” With that, I said my goodbyes and left. Cutting ties was definitely necessary, but the Sterling Corporation would still need me. I patted my leg. To save Seraphina back then, my leg was almost crippled. Now, it was almost fully recovered. I never said I’d be a cripple forever, but they seemed to take it as gospel truth. I took off my glasses and tossed them directly into a trash can. Seraphina used to say she liked quiet, bookish guys. So I’d forced myself to wear glasses, to act refined and polite, all because I owed her a life. But now, there was no need to pretend anymore. So that night, when I was drinking at a bar, Seraphina stormed over, clearly furious. “Alright, Leo, aren’t you allergic to alcohol? What on earth are you drinking?” I swirled the glass in my hand, unfazed. “Just a little something. What’s it look like? Booze.” “You took off your glasses… are you not even nearsighted?” “Miss Seraphina, I just don’t want to wear glasses. You also once said you only wanted to marry me. What’s your excuse now?” I stood up. “We’re all con artists here, so let’s not debate who’s better at it, shall we?” I hadn’t expected to see Seraphina here, and more importantly, the young woman she’d brought with her looked familiar. She just seemed completely out of place in this bar. “Leo, I thought we were still friends.” Seraphina suddenly softened her tone. “I know I was impulsive this time. Please don’t talk to me like this. Can you forgive me?” “Miss Seraphina, there’s no need for any of that between us. Let’s just live our own lives from now on.” Just then, Brad appeared. He charged at me, shouting, “What a lowlife you are! Sera doesn’t even like you, yet you’re still clinging to her!” I didn’t utter a single word of persuasion, but I certainly delivered a punch. Brad was all height and no fighting skill. How could he be a match for someone like me, who grew up in an orphanage? I knocked him to the ground, and he was still shouting, “Leo, you’re just a low-class hooligan! I’ll make sure you get kicked out of Sterling Corp!” “Oh yeah? I’m waiting.” I rolled up my sleeves after hitting him. “But Brad, if you pull that stunt again, I’ll beat you every time I see you.” Seraphina looked like she’d never seen me so arrogant before. She was terrified, helping Brad up, unable to speak. “Leo, I’m so disappointed in you! I never thought you’d be like this. You’re from the Sterling family! How can you just resort to violence at the drop of a hat? What kind of behavior is that?” Seraphina clearly still thought I was the old me, the one who’d lower his voice and constantly pamper her. She instinctively spoke from a position of moral high ground, scolding me. “Miss Seraphina, you probably don’t know me very well. This is who I really am.” Besides, there was a lot more she couldn’t accept. For example, I was adopted by the Sterlings. And she, wasn’t even the real heiress.

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Six months after my death, Mom’s leukemia relapsed. My brother, Liam, came to my apartment, demanding I donate bone marrow to her. My landlady, Martha, told him, “Chloe’s already dead.” Liam scoffed, a sneer twisting his lips. “Chloe Kingston, always so dramatic! Always pulling stunts for attention. She’s just rotten to the core, nothing like Serena. You tell her to stop playing games and go donate bone marrow to Mom, or I’ll make her regret it!” Martha, her hair a wispy white, flared up in anger. She grabbed a broom and chased Liam out. “I told you, Chloe’s dead! You, her family, killed her! “Chloe’s been gone for six months now! How exactly are you going to ‘make her regret it’? “Chloe truly had the worst luck, cursed with a family like yours!” The realization that I was genuinely dead seemed to hit Liam then. His face turned ashen, and he fled in a panic. I’d been dead for six months, but I hadn’t moved on. My soul clung uncontrollably to the Kingston family. Day after day, I watched the four of them, happy as ever. Serena Davis and Ryan Thompson were getting married. The date and venue were already booked. That’s when they finally remembered me. “Is Chloe still mad? Will she come to my wedding with Ryan?” “If she doesn’t come, I won’t acknowledge her as my daughter anymore.” “See? She wasn’t raised by us; she’ll never truly be family.” “I told you back then, we shouldn’t have brought her back. Just let things be.” My dad, Robert, my mom, Vivian, and my brother, Liam, sat there, talking about my faults. I saw Serena’s eyes well up, but a tiny smirk played on her lips. She’d won. I, the real daughter, had nothing left, not even my life. The family took turns calling my phone, but it just went straight to voicemail. It had been six months; my phone battery had died ages ago. After failing to reach me, they cursed me out collectively, then dismissed me from their thoughts again. Even if they occasionally remembered me, it was only to add another insult. Mom went with Serena to try on wedding dresses. Serena’s eyes landed on a gown displayed in a glass case. “Mom, look! This dress is so beautiful.” I looked at the dress too, and for a moment, I was lost in a daze. Just then, Mom had already called a store assistant over, asking to take the dress out. “I’m so sorry, but this gown is a custom order.” Serena loved the dress and kept asking about the client who’d ordered it. Finally, the assistant checked her records: “It’s Miss Chloe Kingston. She provided the design herself, and our company helped create it.” Serena immediately covered her mouth, choked up. “Sister still can’t let go of Ryan, can she? Maybe I should just give him back to her.” Give him back to me? A bitter laugh escaped my ethereal form. Ryan and I were childhood sweethearts, once the most envied couple. But then I was recognized by the Kingstons, and I met Serena. Everyone loved Serena. My childhood sweetheart loved her too. This wedding dress… yes, I designed it for myself. Once, filled with so much love, I poured my heart into this design. I thought I’d wear it, that I’d marry Ryan. But now, that dress was something I could only ever dream of, forever out of reach.

Serena Davis always got what she wanted. “Mom decided,” Vivian declared. “This dress is yours, a wedding gift from her.” Serena feigned modesty. “Won’t Chloe be upset?” “What’s there for her to be upset about? Matters of the heart can’t be forced. It’s her own fault for being ill-tempered and malicious. Ryan not liking her is her just deserts. What does it have to do with you? She always used to bully you; giving you a wedding dress is the least she could do.” Serena happily slipped into the gown, twirling joyfully in front of the mirror. Mom watched Serena with a look of profound satisfaction. That was a look I could only ever wish for, never attain. For Serena, Mom was always hands-on, meticulous about every detail. She said she wanted her precious daughter’s big day to be perfect in every way. As for me, after being stolen as a baby, I was simply an extra person, a nuisance. I watched Mom, day and night, altering Serena’s wedding dress. Serena was a bit heavier than me, and she refused to pick another dress. Mom, who loved her daughter more than life itself, disregarded her own health, insisting on altering the gown personally. My mom, Vivian, was a highly sought-after fashion designer in the industry. Serena, year-round, pretty much wore only clothes designed by Mom. I never had that privilege. Later, I became a designer myself, designing my own clothes. No one loved me, so I learned to love myself. The night the wedding dress was finished, Mom collapsed. She was rushed to the hospital, and her condition was critical. “The patient’s leukemia has relapsed.”

Dad swayed, nearly losing his balance. “How can this be? Wasn’t she recovering well before?” “Has the patient experienced any unusual symptoms recently?” “Well, our daughter is getting married, so my wife has been busy running around. Maybe she’s just tired. Recently, she even pulled two all-nighters to alter the wedding dress for our daughter.” “Foolish! Is she trying to die? Her body just recovered; how could it withstand such strain?” “Then, Doctor, what do we do now? Please, you have to save my mother.” Serena’s eyes brimmed with tears as she looked at the doctor. The doctor’s expression turned grim. “We need to prepare for a second bone marrow transplant.” “Then quickly call Chloe Kingston to come here!” Immediately, they all remembered me again, frantically calling my phone. “Hello, the number you have dialed is temporarily unavailable…” Listening to the automated voice on the phone, their faces all darkened. Serena cried, “Sister must still be mad at me. I’ll go beg her. As long as she’s willing to save Mom, I’ll leave Ryan, I’ll leave the Kingston family.” “That b*tch, Chloe Kingston! Mom’s critically ill, and she still won’t answer the phone! She’s truly a malicious b*tch!” I watched Liam. My brother, with whom I shared blood, thought of me as a b*tch. Dad, Robert, sneered. “She thinks she’s got us cornered, waiting for us to beg her.” “I don’t want her bone marrow anymore, that unfilial daughter. Since she doesn’t care if I live or die, I’ll pretend I never had a daughter like her.” Mom, upon waking from her coma, also joined in, expressing her disgust and condemning me. Liam angrily punched the wall. “I’ll go find her.”

I followed Liam to the apartment where I had lived before I died. *Bang! Bang! Bang!* Liam pounded on the door, his face etched with disgust and impatience. He hammered on the door for a long time, but no one answered. Just as he was about to leave, Martha, my landlady, came out. The old lady lived right across the hall; she must have heard the commotion. “Where’s Chloe Kingston?” Liam demanded. Martha paused. “Chloe? Such a sweet girl. What a pity she had such bad luck and died so young.” “Died? How could that be! “Old lady, you’re quite a joker.” Liam burst out laughing, completely disbelieving. Yes, in his eyes, I was a menace. And a menace, they say, lives a thousand years. How could I possibly die so easily? But this time, I truly was dead. “Who would joke about something like that?! Chloe really is dead.” Liam continued to scoff. “Chloe Kingston, always so dramatic! Always pulling stunts for attention. I’m her brother; I know exactly what kind of person she is. “She’s just rotten to the core, nothing like Serena. You tell her to stop playing games and go donate bone marrow to Mom, or I’ll make her regret it!” Martha, her hair a wispy white, flared up in anger. She grabbed a broom and chased Liam out. “I told you, Chloe’s dead! You, her family, killed her! “Chloe’s been gone for six months now! How exactly are you going to ‘make her regret it’? “Chloe truly had the worst luck, cursed with a family like yours!” Liam, who had been dodging, froze. “You’re not joking? Chloe Kingston is really dead? How… how can that be?” “Get out! Get out! You heartless monster!” Liam fled in a panic.

I followed Liam into his car. Liam lit a cigarette, and through the swirling smoke, I saw his face was dark with troubled thoughts. Knowing I was dead, did a tiny bit of sadness touch him? In the flickering light of the cigarette, Liam’s phone rang. He glanced down at it. The contact name read: “Serena Darling.” Huh. Serena was “Serena Darling.” And me? Oh, I was the “bane of their existence.” That was the note the entire family had for me in their phones, surprisingly consistent. Liam answered the call. Serena’s voice, slightly choked and hoarse, came through. “Brother, what did Sister say? Is she still angry? Please don’t argue with her. I’ll go apologize to her myself. Sister is stubborn. After donating bone marrow last time, she said she’d never acknowledge us again, that even if she died outside, it would be none of our business. I’m scared Sister might do something foolish.” At her words, Liam’s dark brows instantly smoothed out. “Heh! Chloe Kingston is quite impressive now, even faking her own death!” I froze right there. My brother thought I was faking my death. No investigation, no verification. Yes, they simply didn’t care about me. Always their own subjective assumptions. “Then what do we do? Mom’s body can’t wait.” “I don’t believe it. There has to be another suitable donor besides Chloe Kingston.” Yes, I was always the one who shouldn’t exist.

When Liam returned, he exaggerated my “faking my death” story, adding his own nasty twists. The whole family instantly launched into a tirade against me. “Just as I thought, an ungrateful wretch, only thinking of herself.” “How could I have given birth to such a heartless creature?” “Sister is still angry with me. I’ll go apologize, I’ll make amends.” The tirade reached its peak amidst Serena’s sobbing. They comforted Serena, while using even more vicious words to curse me. Ryan half-embraced Serena, gently patting her back to soothe her. “Serena, it’s not your fault. Kindness isn’t a reason for Chloe Kingston to bully you. A malicious person like her is destined to be disliked by everyone.” Serena quietly sobbed in Ryan’s arms. But then, I remembered some things from the past. Years ago, after Serena’s mother stole me, she dumped me in a trash can. I was picked up by human traffickers, who sold me to a couple who had been childless for years. Less than a year after adopting me, that couple had a set of boy-girl twins. After that, my once ordinary life turned into a living hell. At just three years old, I had to start learning to do chores. I also had to take care of my younger brother and sister. If anything went wrong, my father’s heavy hand was waiting for me. Simple things like eating enough and having warm clothes were luxuries for me. In those bitter days, Ryan was one of the few sources of light in my life. He would secretly slip me a protein bar on the way to school. He would tend to my wounds after my father hit me. We got into college together, and naturally, we became a couple. I dreamed of spending my whole life with him, but then he got together with Serena. “I shouldn’t have pitied her back then; she’s just a heartless, ungrateful monster.” Ryan’s harsh words pulled me back to the present. So, being with me was out of pity? When I used to tutor Ryan, he once praised me: “Chloe, you’re truly the most wonderful girl in the world.” After we both started college, there was an opportunity to study abroad for three months. The school had me in mind for it. But Ryan really wanted to go. He hugged me, begging me to give him the opportunity. When I nodded, he happily spun me around. “Chloe, don’t worry. All this hard work is so I can give you a better life in the future. I want you to walk down the aisle to me in style.” Ryan discarded his promises like trash. Only I clung to them, refusing to let go. Even when what I held in my hand had rotted away, I clutched it like a lifeline. But Ryan had long forgotten.

Dad and Liam pulled every string they had, trying to find another suitable bone marrow donor for Mom. But a suitable donor wasn’t easy to find. In just half a month, the doctor delivered an ultimatum. A suitable donor had to be found as soon as possible. Otherwise, Mom would be in grave danger. So, they started calling me again. Still no answer. They exchanged glances, realizing that besides calling me, they had no other way to reach me. Dad cleared his throat. “Do any of you have any of Chloe Kingston’s friends’ or classmates’ numbers?” All their gazes fell on Ryan. Ryan pulled out his phone and called a few classmates and friends he remembered I was close to. “Chloe Kingston? I haven’t heard from her in almost a year.” Liam’s face darkened. “That Chloe Kingston is such a freak. She doesn’t even have any close friends or classmates. Who knows where she’s hiding, completely inconsiderate. She deserves to be disliked.” A bitter taste filled my mouth. If I could, I wouldn’t want to be here either. I didn’t want to be disliked. I wanted everyone to adore me, just like Serena.

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In this world, failing the Grand National Exam meant immediate consignment to the lowest caste, becoming nothing more than an indentured servant. After my rebirth, I burned all my revision notes. Only because in my previous life, my so-called best friend used a system to spy through my vision. I’d poured my heart and soul into those exam notes, burning the midnight oil for two years straight. They were my ultimate guide to passing. She printed them out and freely handed them to every other student around us, but I was the only one kept in the dark. During the exam, she used her system to copy all my answers, then reported *me* to the Ogre Overseers for cheating off *her*. Staring at the identical exam papers, I was dragged away by the brutal Enforcers, condemned to become the lowest form of servant. Meanwhile, she became the top scorer, elevated to the world’s elite. I begged her to expose the truth, but she just laughed in my face: “Luna Sterling, isn’t this just karma for your cheating? What could I possibly prove?” Brandon, the guy I was totally crushing on, sneered when he heard: “You copied Vivian’s paper, and now you’re forcing her to vouch for you? Don’t you have any shame?” Because of that cheating accusation, I was tortured to death by the servant overseers, left to rot in a garbage dump. And Vivian Vance? She became renowned, the pillar of the elite. Fine. If that’s how it is, you two conniving snakes, I will make sure you taste the true depths of hell!

Watching the charred paper scraps dissolve in the fire pit, my tense body finally relaxed. First step, accomplished. This time, I would absolutely tear those two despicable scumbags limb from limb! My eyes began to ache, my head throbbed, and cold sweat trickled down my neck. This feeling was all too familiar. In this life, she was already starting to use her ability. I calmly kicked over the fire pit, and the flames were instantly smothered by the sand. Love to spy, do you? I’ll give you an eyeful. I went home, collapsed on the sofa, and pulled up one of the world’s top 10 horror movies. Just then, my phone buzzed incessantly. Brandon Hayes, my dream guy, was flooding me with messages. [Babe, did you study today? The exam is coming up, gotta study hard~] [Send me a pic, I’ll supervise you.] Hah. Supervising me now? In my previous life, I had eagerly accepted his “kindness.” Whenever I struggled with a problem, he’d rush over with a mountain of study materials. It truly sends shivers down my spine just thinking about it! I simply switched off my buzzing phone and went back to my horror movie. All the knowledge was stored in my head. Now, they were the ones who should be panicking. A moment later, the lock on my front door clicked, eerily, as it opened. I stared, wide-eyed and terrified. Brandon walked into my house, carrying coffee, his eyes softly tender. “How do you have my house code?!” “You told me last time when we were studying~” He spoke calmly, without a hint of rush. Vivian must have given it to him! She was the only other person who knew my code! Without batting an eyelid, I changed the door lock code on my phone. I smiled sweetly at him. “You came all the way to bring me coffee? You really want me to pull an all-nighter studying?” He sat beside me, reaching out to brush my hair. “Isn’t it for your future?” I subtly shifted, “accidentally” spilling my iced coffee all over his pristine white shirt. “Didn’t you often tell Vivian I was a bookworm, no fun, boring? A woman with only studying on her mind?” “I had a revelation today. We only have, what, three thousand days on this planet? Gotta relax a little, right?” Brandon carefully dabbed his white shirt with a tissue. His friendly expression froze instantly at my words. “You…” Those were the very words he’d spat at me when I was on my deathbed. He looked at me, visibly guilty. Suddenly, a piercing ringtone blared. Brandon shot me a quick glance, then stepped outside to answer. When he returned, he gazed at me with a look of reluctance. “I’m only thinking of you, Luna. You’re the person I love most. But I have an urgent matter to attend to now. I’ll have to leave.” Hah. My little puppy dog was off to lick my “bestie” again. “Wait!” I grabbed the other cup of coffee, then executed a perfect “fake trip,” spilling it precisely on the still-clean part of his white shirt. His face contorted in rage. “You…!” I pressed a hand to my forehead, delicately slumping onto the sofa. “Oh, it must be all this study stress lately. So clumsy of me~ But you love me the most, right? You wouldn’t mind?” At the mention of “study,” his expression softened. “Right. Well, I’m off then. See you at school tomorrow.” The moment the door clicked shut, I burst out laughing. Hahahaha! That idiot! Just as I’d suspected, that was the white suit he’d spent half his allowance on, planning to confess to Vivian today! What sweet revenge! I walked into my bedroom, turned off the lights, and put on my eye mask, all in one smooth motion. “You little sneak, enjoy the black screen! All my knowledge is locked right inside my brain!” In the middle of the night, a shrill ringtone jolted me. I rolled my eyes and answered the video call. “How *dare* you go to sleep?!” Vivian’s voice exploded.

I watched, utterly satisfied, as her face turned scarlet with fury. Slowly and deliberately, I spoke: “Vivian, what’s with the sudden call?” Her eyes were practically bulging out of her head. Today, she had scheduled a session with an off-campus tutor to demonstrate her problem-solving skills. For this, she’d even sent me the agreed-upon problems the day before, instructing me to solve them at a specific time today. She copied the first few problems, feeling smug about her precious system. But halfway through, she saw me using the scrap paper – *her* scrap paper – to wipe my dog’s rear. Nothing left to copy. The tutors, seeing her unable to continue, assumed she was messing with them and immediately revoked her eligibility for the National Math Olympiad. I met her eyes, which were filled with a desire to devour me. I warned her. “Playing dirty will only backfire on you! This is the first time, and it will be the last. Next time… I’ll make sure you don’t get off easy.” She looked at me with a complex expression. Then, she suddenly rubbed her eyes, feigning a yawn: “Oh, what’s going on? Luna, darling, why are we on the phone?” “My sleepwalking must have kicked in again, how terribly annoying~ Don’t be mad at me, okay~” She hung up immediately after saying that, then sent me a message. [Good night, Luna! Let’s walk to school together tomorrow~] Still treating me like the naïve fool from my past life? Last time, she used her “sleepwalking” excuse to steal thirty limited-edition designer bags. Looking at her pathetic excuse, I blocked and deleted her number. The next day, as I opened my front door, I saw Vivian and Brandon standing there. Brandon still had a smudge of lipstick near his mouth. Looks like they’d just finished a “session.” Vivian sidled up to me, oozing flattery. “Luna, why did you change your house code? I kept trying, but couldn’t get in.” “Trespassing? Looking for a jail cell?” I walked straight past them. Vivian didn’t seem annoyed. Instead, she solicitously held out a bag full of breakfast items, asking what I wanted. Oh, right. The money they spent? It all came from *my* linked payment account. In my past life, Brandon publicly acted like he disdained using my account, but secretly spent hundreds of thousands. Vivian, even worse, would flaunt spending my money in public, then privately call me an animal. Brandon frowned. “Vivian’s talking to you. Are you deaf?” “I’m spending my own money, and I’m supposed to applaud you for it?” I looked at Vivian. “Since you’re being so thoughtful, leave all the breakfast for me.” Vivian’s eyes instantly reddened, and she bit her lip. “Luna, I’m sorry. I know I’m spending your money, but today… I haven’t eaten breakfast either.” Brandon stepped in front of Vivian, shielding her. “Luna Sterling! Don’t be so arrogant! Vivian was kind enough to buy you breakfast, and this is how you treat her?” I stepped closer to Vivian. “Didn’t you offer it to me?” “You insisted on giving it, and I kindly accepted. Now I’m the ungrateful one?” My finger tapped her shoulder, one by one. “If you don’t want to give, don’t pretend. You dare to offer, I dare to take. After all, it’s all my money, isn’t it?” I turned to look at the man I once adored. In my previous life, I never tired of looking at him. But now, he looked hideous, like a disgusting, slimy swamp creature. The next second, Vivian covered her face and ran off, crying. Brandon, when I wasn’t looking, viciously slapped me across the face. “This is all your fault! You better write out a detailed exam study plan by tonight! Or I won’t let you get away with this!” Brandon glared at me, then turned to chase Vivian. I immediately lifted my foot and delivered a solid kick to his backside. He sprawled on the ground, his face twisted in rage, eyes almost popping out. He looked ready to unleash a torrent of curses, but then he suddenly looked at me with pity, as if he understood something. “I know you like me a lot, but you can’t hurt Vivian just because you’re jealous, can you?” “Go on, apologize to Vivian, and give her your newly written exam problem-solving notes. She’ll probably forgive you.” I walked over to him, grabbing a handful of his hair. “Oh, I will. Just you wait. I’ll make sure you’re both ‘satisfied.’”

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My best friend, Zara, had studied magic performance in Las Vegas for half a year. When she came back, she shot to stardom. To make more money, she loved performing extreme stunts at every live show. At first, I earnestly warned her to be careful, but she completely ignored me, becoming even more obsessed. I gradually realized something was terribly wrong. When she performed a chain escape act on stage, my shoulder inexplicably dislocated. When she locked herself in a water tank for an extreme escape, I felt an intense pressure in my chest and uncontrollably spewed water at the dinner table. The most terrifying time, she showed the audience her razor blade swallowing act. My esophagus was horrifically lacerated by some foreign object, rotting all the way down to my stomach. From my hospital bed, I tearfully pleaded with my husband, Noah, who was her magic assistant. He, however, lectured me, “Zara went to study magic, not black magic. You’re pregnant; why aren’t you being more careful? What does her magic have to do with you? Just stay home and focus on your pregnancy.” I sat there, stunned, reflecting. Was it really just prenatal depression? Then came Zara’s national tour, with the grand finale act: sawing a person in half. Six long knives were plunged into the box she had entered. She emerged unharmed, but I was stabbed through my pregnant belly, killing both me and my unborn child in my own home. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of Zara’s first performance after returning home.

A soul-shattering pain radiated from every part of my body. I instinctively touched my eight-month pregnant belly… empty? I looked down; there was no blood, no baby bump. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Master Zara, here to bring you her highly anticipated comeback show!” The host’s booming voice on stage yanked me back to reality. I was reborn. Reborn back to the day of Zara’s comeback show. My baby was only three months old in my womb. Everything was still salvageable. In my previous life, I was tidying up at home, holding my stomach, when I accidentally stumbled upon a photo of my best friend and my husband. Before I could even take a closer look, I was stabbed to death. In the photo, they were naked and in a highly intimate embrace. I didn’t even have time to confirm if it was really them. This time, I had to rush home and find out what that photo was all about. Before Zara even went on stage, I frantically packed my bag and tried to leave from backstage. The next second, Noah blocked my way. “Mia, where are you going? Zara’s about to go on stage.” Seeing Noah’s furrowed brow, he clearly wasn’t happy about me leaving right now. Seemingly realizing his attitude was off, Noah quickly put his hand on my arm and smiled. “Honey, Zara is your best friend. She studied abroad for so long, finally achieved something. Of course, you have to be here for her first show. Aren’t you happy for her?” I stared at Noah’s face. My best friend’s performance seemed to make him happier than me. “Oh, it hurts so much!” I pretended to clutch my stomach, a pained expression on my face. This was exactly the second week after I found out I was pregnant. Noah was still absorbed in the joy of becoming a father, and he was incredibly doting on me. “Are you okay, honey? Is the baby kicking you?” I playfully tapped his chest. “Oh, darling, don’t be silly. The baby’s only three months old; it doesn’t even have feet yet!” Noah chuckled, taking my fist and pulling it to his chest. But I used the momentum to push him away, stepped back, and clutched my stomach. “I probably ate something bad for lunch. I need to find a restroom right away.” “I’ll go with you!” He said, trying to put his arm around me and lead me towards the backstage exit. Zara’s sickeningly sweet voice floated from behind me: “Noah, darling, get ready, we’re on!” He froze. Noah had just taken a step before letting go of my hand, a look of apology on his face. “Mia, I have to go on stage. You go by yourself.” I forced a fake smile and waved at them. “Go on, I’ll be back to watch your show in a bit. Good luck!” Zara jogged over and playfully swung my hand. “Mia, this is my first show back home. Having you here makes me feel so much better~” I sneered inwardly. *You feel better, alright. All the cuts and pain were landing squarely on me.* Once I found out what methods you used, that would be the day you perished. For the two lives they stole, for my unborn child, I swore I’d make them pay! I left the backstage area and immediately hailed a taxi home. Relying on my memory, I found the secret compartment under the double bed Noah and I shared. The compartment opened to reveal that very photo, along with a dozen love letters, full of flowery words. And the entwined figures in the photo were Zara and Noah…

The tearing pain of being stabbed through once again surged through me. My heart felt like it was being ripped apart. I clutched my chest and sank to the floor. The photo slipped, face down. On the back, a row of small, handwritten words: “My eternal love, forever in my heart.” I recognized the handwriting instantly as Noah’s, bold and flowing script. He used to love writing me love letters in that very hand when he was pursuing me. The date was November 2023, three months after Noah and I got married. In the throes of our honeymoon phase, he was in bed with my best friend, claiming “eternal love”? Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit me. I clutched my chest and dry-heaved. I couldn’t tell if it was morning sickness or just pure disgust. My hands trembling, I picked up a few of the love letters and read them. Some felt familiar, others I’d never seen. Familiar because the content was identical to the letters Noah used to write to me. But judging by the dates, he wrote Zara’s first, and then simply copied them for mine. After facing the harsh reality, I put everything back in place, pretending I hadn’t touched anything. I immediately ran out the door and hailed a taxi to the hospital. At the same time, Zara’s magic performance had already begun. “Driver, hurry to the county women’s and children’s hospital!” Before the driver could even step on the gas, my shoulder suddenly flared with pain, and blood started to seep through. I knew it was Zara and Noah performing the blindfolded knife-throwing act. In my previous life, no matter how off-target Noah threw the knives, Zara would always come off stage completely unharmed. Noah had even bragged to me about it multiple times. “Honey, I’m a magic prodigy! Zara and I are a match made in heaven as stage partners!” More and more bloody lines appeared on my body. The driver was so scared he floored it to almost 120 mph. “Miss, are you okay! This… this looks really serious!” I covered my wounds with tissue paper and spoke weakly, “I’m fine, I’m fine, driver. Please, just go faster.” Luckily, the blindfolded knife-throwing only involved three knives, so they didn’t hit any vital organs. I got out of the taxi, covered in blood, and even gave the driver an extra two hundred dollars for car cleaning. I rushed into the hospital lobby, yelling for a doctor. At this moment, the hospital’s TV was also broadcasting Zara’s magic debut live. After a quick cleanup and bandage in the emergency room, I scheduled an abortion for the obstetrics and gynecology department. Noah, that scumbag, didn’t deserve to have a child with me! His child had already been stabbed through by his own six knives in my previous life. As I lay on the operating table, sedated. Zara was preparing to perform her underwater escape act. While the doctor was performing the surgery, I suddenly started convulsing and spitting up water. The doctor was so startled they didn’t dare continue. I took deep breaths and tried to reassure them. “It’s okay, Doctor, please continue… *cough, cough*…” Large amounts of clear water gushed from my mouth and nose. This was the second time I had experienced the sensation of almost drowning. The doctor had never seen such a scene, but at my insistence, they had no choice but to complete the surgery. Half an hour later, the surgery was done, and I lay weakly in the hospital room. The young nurses came in, making their rounds, gushing about Zara’s magic performance. “That Master Zara’s underwater escape just now was truly spectacular!” “Yeah, she was trapped in that water tank for five whole minutes and wasn’t hurt at all, she escaped successfully.” “A master who came back from abroad is just on another level. She even dropped the key to the lock but wasn’t in a hurry to pick it up. She was so calm, like a real-life mermaid.” I clenched my fists, swearing that no matter what evil methods she used, this time I would not let her harm me in the slightest. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Noah calling.

I decisively rejected the call and replied to him on SnapChat. “Honey, company just scheduled an unexpected business trip for me. I’ll be gone for a few days.” Worried he’d notice something was off, I added another line: “Love you, remember to miss me and baby, and wish Zara success on her debut~” After that, I bought a flight ticket to a country known for its mysticism. I had to find out where Zara had really learned her magic. After some investigation, I learned that she hadn’t been studying in the UK for the past six months at all. Instead, she had gone to a country in Southeast Asia, a land steeped in ancient, forbidden magic… I caught a connecting flight. The moment I landed, I saw an old woman faint. The old woman was shabbily dressed, clutching a worn-out bag in her hand. I gave her some water and fanned her. She finally woke up. Just as I was about to leave, the old woman grabbed my hand. “Don’t go, young lady. We’re destined to meet, and I can help you.” Before I could answer, she abruptly snapped the chain of the small gold charm pendant around my neck. “Hey! What are you—” I frowned, about to scold her. But I saw her twist open the gold charm. This gold charm was a wedding anniversary gift from Noah this year. I had no idea this decorative locket could even open. The old woman pulled out a small piece of paper from inside. It was clearly a hex paper. She tsk-tsked, shaking her head. “My dear, someone put a hex on you.” … That afternoon, I felt disoriented. Even on the flight home, I hadn’t fully recovered. The old woman’s words kept echoing in my mind. *A hex…* If Zara put a hex on me, then why was the gold charm from Noah? Could he have known all along about Zara using this hex to transfer the harm to me? Like I was possessed, I found myself heading home, only to find Noah and Zara panting softly, entwined in the bathroom. Zara was even wearing the designer shirt I had bought Noah for our wedding anniversary. Seeing me return, they were clearly startled. Noah quickly straightened his clothes and came out, hugging me and trying to explain. “Mia, Zara got hurt during her performance today. I was just helping her with her wound.” I glanced at Zara; there was a nearly healed scratch on her collarbone. Suddenly, Noah’s grip tightened on my wrist. He glared at me, demanding, “Mia! Where’s the gold charm I gave you? How could you take it off?! No wonder Zara got hurt!” His grip was so tight it hurt, and tears welled up in my eyes. Realizing his outburst, he quickly let go and spoke gently, coaxing me. “Honey, that’s not what I meant. I meant this gold necklace is a symbol of our love, you can’t just take it off.” At this moment, I finally believed that he must have known about the hex paper hidden inside the charm. I pulled the broken chain and pendant from my bag, my face expressionless. “The chain broke. I can’t wear it.” The next second, Zara directly took off the gold chain from her own neck and handed it to me. “Mia, that’s such a shame. Then use my chain, darling. After all, it’s your wedding anniversary gift from Noah. Noah would surely be upset if you didn’t wear it.” Without waiting for my agreement, Zara picked up the gold charm, went to the side, and threaded it onto her gold chain. In the reflection of the mirror, I saw her whispering something to Noah. They opened the gold charm to confirm the hex paper was still inside, then pretended nothing was amiss. “Come on, honey. See how generous Zara is? She just gave you her gold chain. It’s hard to find a best friend like that.” Watching Noah put the almost identical gold chain around my neck, it was hard not to suspect he had bought two chains from the start—one for me, one for Zara. Too disgusted to say more, I walked straight into the bedroom. Carefully, I picked up the long strand of hair on the bed that didn’t belong to me.

Soon, it was time for Zara’s next live performance. By now, she was incredibly famous, with many fans traveling from out of town just to see her perform. She had already hyped it up online: today, she would perform the incredibly difficult grand finale act, sawing a person in half. The sensationalism and marketing had already been unleashed. Many magic enthusiasts gathered in the theater, eagerly awaiting her groundbreaking show. “I’ve been a magician for over ten years, and this is the first time I’ve seen a flawless performance like Master Zara’s.” “She’s truly a prodigy! I definitely need to ask her for some tips after the show.” These professional magicians couldn’t stop praising her. In just one month since returning home, Zara had become a legend in the magic world. I sat in the first row of the audience, clutching my phone tightly. I had mailed Zara’s long strand of hair to the old woman days ago, but I hadn’t heard from her. *Had I been scammed?* I took a deep breath, telling myself not to overthink. I’d already died once. At worst, it would be an all-out war with these two bastards. Cold sweat drenched my back, and my body trembled uncontrollably. Ten more minutes, and the show would begin. Zara’s opening act today was swallowing razor blades. I kept staring at my phone, the seconds ticking by. Zara and Noah came onto the stage, greeting the audience, who erupted in cheers. “Master Zara is a magic goddess!” “A legendary newcomer in magic! A dark horse!” “Flawless, astounding performance! We love you!” The applause lasted for a full three minutes before finally quieting down. Zara smiled gracefully, waving to acknowledge them. “Ladies and gentlemen, please settle down. Thank you all so much for coming to my show~” She deliberately spoke in a saccharine sweet voice. You could literally see the men in the audience melt. Noah on stage melted too. “To thank you all for your support, today’s opening act will be one of my signature skills~” “Razor blade swallowing!” Before she even finished, fans in the audience were already shouting it out for her. Zara smiled brightly, raising her hand to take a tray of blades Noah brought onto the stage. A whopping eighteen blades. Noah and Zara exchanged a knowing glance, then both looked at me simultaneously. A feeling of suffocation crawled over me. *Were they… planning to kill me directly?* But if they killed me, how would Zara perform the sawing a person in half trick? Zara’s overly sweet voice sounded again. “Just kidding with you all, I can’t swallow eighteen blades! I’ll only swallow three today~” Before the words fully left her mouth, she picked up a blade and swallowed it whole, without even chewing. The piercing pain of a sharp object tearing through my throat flared, and I clutched my neck, unable to speak. My phone rang. It was the old woman! I quickly pressed the answer button, but then I heard a piercing scream from the stage. Ah—

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I had just returned from a specialized fellowship abroad, stepping out of the operating room after successfully completing a complex organ transplant. The air still buzzed with the aftermath of intense focus. But then, Dr. Chloe Davis, my husband’s intern, blocked the hallway. She looked smug, arrogant, and stopped me dead in my tracks. Her voice, sharp and loud enough for everyone to hear, sliced through the quiet. “Who gave you permission to use Operating Room 3? Effective immediately, you’re suspended!” I froze for a split second, then a smirk touched my lips. “Oh? And who, exactly, gave *you* that authority?” She scoffed, a cold, harsh sound. Right in front of me, she snatched the departmental schedule from the nurses’ station and ripped it in half with a dramatic flourish. “The Director did,” she spat, tossing the shreds onto the floor. I nodded slowly, pulling out my phone. I immediately shot a text to Patient 001’s private contact. “Apologies, my surgical privileges have been revoked. It seems I won’t be able to perform your wife’s tumor surgery.”

I instantly opened my husband, Dr. Brandon Miller’s, SnapChat. “Brandon Miller, get to the hospital. Chloe Davis is trying to suspend me.” Chloe glanced at me, then burst into a shrill, mocking laugh. She grabbed the surgical plan I’d just laid down and, with a vicious tear, ripped it in two. My eyes narrowed, watching her arrogant display. That plan was for the mayor’s pre-op tomorrow. Brandon himself had emphasized its critical importance. What truly baffled me was the reaction of the surrounding medical staff. Not only did no one intervene, but someone even eagerly offered her a paper shredder. My brow furrowed. Had I been away from the hospital for so long that Brandon’s strict protocols had become utterly meaningless? No way. I knew him. He never compromised on patient safety. Chloe savored my expression, a sneer on her face, and triumphantly scattered the shredded paper onto my face. “What’s wrong, Dr. Hayes? Surprised?” She sank into a nearby chair, idly playing with her manicured nails. “Your era is over,” she declared, her voice booming. “Brandon said that effective today, the VIP wing is entirely under my command. As for you, you’re relegated to night shift nurse duty.” The head nurse standing nearby immediately chimed in. “Exactly! Dr. Davis is a specially approved international talent, brought in by the Director himself!” “Some people occupy a Head of Department position for two years without doing any real work. How dare she show her face back here?” It was clear. In the past two years, this hospital had lost its way. I snatched a patient file she was about to pull away. “Chloe Davis, listen up. I am Brandon Miller’s legal wife, and a lifetime honorary professor at this hospital!” “Professor?” She burst out laughing, turning to the bewildered crowd. “Do you know how she got that professor title?” She roughly tore down my specialist profile photo from the hallway display. “A glorified trophy wife who got her title by clinging to her Director husband? She thinks she can pull rank on me?!” Chloe straightened her spine proudly. “I, on the other hand, am a Harvard Medical School Ph.D. personally mentored by Brandon! He used a special talent fund, dropped millions to poach me as a cardiothoracic specialist!” Suddenly, she grabbed the instrument cart a nurse was pushing, sweeping my dedicated surgical instruments to the floor with a loud clang. “Now, get on your knees and pick these up.” “Are you insane?” I stared at the scattered precision instruments for heart surgery. “These are sterile…” “Kneel! And! Pick!” She enunciated each word, her eyes gleaming with contempt and malice. The people around us suddenly erupted. “Kneel already! Why act so high and mighty?!” “Does she really think she’s still the legendary heart surgeon? Dr. Davis has been carrying this department for the past two years!” I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my skin. “For the past five years, 87% of all heart transplant surgeries in this hospital were performed by me. That’s verifiable data.” “Without those successful cases, this hospital would never have been accredited as a National Center of Excellence, let alone acquired the latest medical equipment.” A young doctor I had personally mentored stepped forward. A warmth spread through me. Someone still remembered. But the next second, he brutally stomped on my stethoscope, crushing it. “Professor Hayes, don’t push your luck!” “Dr. Davis is being merciful by telling you to kneel!” “Exactly! Kneel! Now!” The shouts around me grew louder and louder. Just then, the fire exit door burst open. I saw Brandon Miller’s figure, and a tiny sigh of relief escaped me. He arrived faster than I expected. Amid Chloe’s triumphant smirk, I looked at Brandon and said, “Brandon, Chloe said…”

*SMACK.* A brutal slap across my face. The force sent me crashing into the test tubes behind me. Glass shattered, scattering across the floor. I clutched my stinging cheek, looking up at Brandon’s hand, still suspended in mid-air, a look of utter disbelief on my face. “Amelia Hayes! Who gave you the audacity to treat Chloe like that?!” He snatched my ID badge and threw it to the ground. “She’s the Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery whom I spent a fortune to poach from the Mayo Clinic! She’s the medical expert I cultivated with five years of painstaking effort! What right do you have to defy her?!” “It’s just an operating room, isn’t it? If Chloe says you can’t use it, you can’t. Now, get on your knees and apologize to her immediately!” Brandon’s face, contorted in rage, suddenly felt incredibly alien to me. Wait, what did he say? Mayo Clinic? I looked closely at Chloe Davis, and a realization hit me. Wasn’t she that nurse who sold counterfeit drugs five years ago and was jailed for six months? How did someone with barely a middle school education become my peer, let alone a chief of surgery? Brandon suddenly turned, his voice soft with concern as he spoke to Chloe. “Why aren’t you wearing the gloves I got for you? These spilled instruments will get on you.” “And next time, if you want to suspend someone, don’t get all worked up yourself. Don’t let it happen again.” Chloe immediately took off her mask, letting out a few fake tears. “Brandon, maybe I should just resign. With Dr. Hayes like this, how can I possibly lead the heart transplant surgeries?” Brandon’s voice instantly shifted back to a furious roar directed at me. “Apologize to Dr. Davis right now! If you dare to obstruct her work again, you’ll be transferred to laundry duty in the maintenance department!” The surrounding area fell silent. The watching medical staff immediately began whispering. “Dr. Davis is the Director’s pet!” “Exactly, she’s a genuinely talented, highly educated expert!” “Unlike some people who have no real skills, only relying on being the Director’s wife.” “Shameless!” I stared at Brandon Miller, the man who once swore he’d always support and love me unconditionally, now publicly humiliating me. But he still wasn’t done. He pointed at me. “Effective today, you’re demoted to a physician’s assistant. You’ll do rounds at 5 AM every day, and handle all departmental night shifts, patient records, and autopsy reports.” “Once you’ve reflected enough and learned how to be an assistant, then we’ll talk.” He grabbed the white coat Chloe had just taken off and tossed it at me. “Now, handwash Dr. Davis’s scrubs!”

*Ha.* I burst out laughing, a hollow sound. My mind flashed through countless nights of collapsing in exhaustion at the operating table. The bloodshot eyes from perfecting my techniques, the thousands of papers I’d devoured to push the limits of surgery… All just to ensure every operation was safe, to make Harmony Medical Center’s stellar reputation shine even brighter. I practically lived in the on-call room and the library, sacrificing countless moments we could have shared. Even starting a family was constantly postponed because he always said: “Amelia, our hospital’s development has just begun.” And now? Now, after I’d just completed the nation’s first transcatheter mitral valve repair, anticipating an embrace from him, I walked in on him holding hands with the intern he was supposed to be mentoring. I watched Chloe lean against his white coat, her face streaked with tears that couldn’t hide a triumphant smile. I watched Brandon look down at her with a tenderness and indulgence he had *never* shown me. This relationship, it should have ended a long time ago. I took off my stethoscope and tossed it onto the desk. “Let’s get a divorce.” Brandon remained utterly calm, not even a blink. He pulled two documents from his desk. The first, a ‘Research Project Lead Change Request,’ had my name neatly crossed out. The second, a ‘Physician Practice Location Change Consent Form,’ was already signed with his full name. “Sign it,” he said, slapping the papers onto the desk. “Once you sign, go to medical administration and transfer Patient 001’s tumor surgery team to Chloe.” “Why should I?!” “I spent a month preparing this surgical plan, staying up night after night.” “Yours?” He suddenly laughed, his hand pointing sharply at the ‘Hospital Management Regulations’ posted on the wall. “Amelia Hayes, please open your eyes and read the hospital bylaws clearly. All medical teams and research outcomes belong to the hospital’s legal representative. Participating physicians only retain the right to be credited.” My eyes widened in shock. I stared, utterly fixated, at the familiar signature on that ‘Physician Practice Change Consent Form.’ Back then, during a crucial phase of the hospital’s restructuring, Brandon had held that document, his fingers slightly trembling beneath his white coat. “Amelia, you know the risks involved in hospital reform. This agreement is just to satisfy the state medical board’s inspection. If our accreditation fails, it will at least protect your practice license.” His eyes were red-rimmed as he gripped my hand. “And those conservative old guard on the board… they need a clear statement. Trust me, it’s just a piece of paper, do we really need this between us?” “I love you, and I don’t want to drag you down.” At that time, I was completely swept up in Brandon’s so-called fake love, even touched by his supposed thoughtfulness. That thirty-page professional document… I hadn’t even bothered to scrutinize the fine print clauses. I, the person who could spot a 0.5mm nodule on a CT scan, had ironically missed the malignant tumor growing in my own life. How incredibly ironic… Amelia Hayes, nicknamed the living atlas of cardiac surgery, whose most frequent advice during mentorship was to meticulously study every single word of a pre-op surgical plan. My heart and soul, poured into my medical career, even rejecting top-tier offers from international institutions. Now, it had all culminated in betrayal, leaving me with absolutely nothing.

The surrounding medical staff immediately started whispering, their voices laced with sarcasm and mockery. “I heard even the patent for the heart valve she developed belongs to the hospital now.” “Serves her right. Someone needed to humble her arrogance.” I unpinned my ID badge and dropped it onto the floor. “Brandon Miller.” “I’ll sign it.” “As you wish, I’ll leave.” I turned, my white coat brushing against a bottle of iodine, sending it tumbling. Brandon’s voice instantly rang out. “Stop right there!” I paused, but didn’t turn back. “Amelia Hayes, you think resigning is the end of it?” “You haven’t completed your handover yet!” “Tomorrow’s community outreach clinic, you’ll show up and do your work, no questions asked.” “If you dare to skip, I’ll make sure the entire medical system knows that the esteemed cardiac surgery specialist refused to even take a poor old man’s blood pressure.” I slammed to a halt, utterly incredulous. Stealing all my credit wasn’t enough? He wanted me to stay and be publicly humiliated even further? A cold smirk played on Brandon’s lips. “Perfect, Chloe just won the Golden Scalpel Award for Young Physicians. She needs an assistant who’s familiar with the procedures. Starting today, you’re in charge of her award ceremony preparations.” He slapped a patient chart against my chest. “If anything goes wrong at the awards ceremony…” “You know what the Medical Malpractice Investigations Unit has been looking into lately.” Chloe immediately smiled, her eyes sharp as knives. “Don’t worry, Brandon. I’ll make sure to ‘guide’ Assistant Hayes properly.” The next few days were pure hell. I became her speechwriter, even her awards gown alteration seamstress. Every time she wanted to humiliate me, she chose the daily general meeting, making the entire hospital staff watch as she tossed away the research materials I had organized overnight, treating them like trash. On the day of the awards ceremony. The host’s voice boomed, inviting Chloe Davis to the stage to deliver her speech. Chloe, beaming with smug satisfaction, strutted onto the stage in her high heels. “Thank you to all the esteemed fellows and leaders for your guidance! This breakthrough in minimally invasive cardiac surgery, first and foremost, I must thank my fiancé, Mr. Brandon Miller.” That was fast. The divorce cooling-off period wasn’t even over, and she was already wearing an engagement ring. She gazed deeply at Brandon, who was seated in the front row, prompting a round of applause from the entire audience. Suddenly, she changed her tone, bringing up a set of data charts. “To be honest, leading this nation’s first transapical mitral valve repair surgery, I was quite apprehensive.” “You see, in the preliminary research, the traditional surgical approach had a 30% risk of valve displacement.” “If it weren’t for our team discovering the risk of valve anchor detachment during the surgery and promptly switching to traditional suturing techniques…” She casually dismissed my decade of hard work as a potential medical accident, subtly implying that she had stepped in to save the day. The hall immediately erupted in whispers. “So, Amelia Hayes’s patent was that dangerous.” “No wonder Patient 3 had reflux after surgery last time.” “Dr. Davis truly has a compassionate heart.” After the meeting, she cornered me by the elevator, holding out her hand. “Hand over the USB drive. Patient 001’s surgery, I’m the lead surgeon now. Give me his private contact information. I need to personally discuss the surgical plan. As for you…” She scoffed disdainfully. “You can go to HR and pick up your resignation forms.”

So that’s it. I stared at the surgery approval form in Chloe Davis’s hand, stamped with the red designation “001.” It suddenly clicked. Their target, all along, was Madam 001’s heart transplant surgery. This was the kind of elite surgery that could immortalize an entire medical team and secure national special grants. I slowly lifted my head. Chloe’s eyes were filled with pure greed, while Brandon Miller, standing nearby, wore a cold expression, clearly condoning everything. This was their trap. No wonder they waited until now to divorce me, no wonder they were only just now kicking me out. Because there were regulations stating that once a surgery of this caliber was completed, the lead surgeon would directly qualify for an academy fellowship nomination. They probably thought that if they dragged it out past the public announcement period, that honor would be securely placed on Chloe’s head. I burst out laughing. Brandon’s face turned grim. “What are you laughing at? Chloe Davis is a top expert trained at a world-renowned university! She’s performed surgeries for multiple important U.S. figures! Her abilities are a million times stronger than yours!” “Amelia Hayes, without Harmony Medical Center, you are nothing. The title of national master surgeon will soon be Chloe’s.” I smiled, handing over the encrypted USB drive. “Dr. Davis, I wish you a smooth surgery for Patient 001.” I couldn’t wait to see how someone who had faked her way into the medical system would pass Patient 001’s pre-operative review. I’d forgotten to tell them: Patient 001’s medical file was personally established by my father back in the day. That night, a black sedan slid silently to a stop. The window rolled down, revealing Professor Maxwell’s eyes – wrinkled, yet still sharp. He was the Head of Patient 001’s Security Detail, and my beloved mentor.

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My fiancé’s new intern actually suggested serving chips and soda to the CEO of a multi-million dollar company’s wedding guests. Could you believe it? And the whole company, mind you, cheered for it. They called it “innovative and cute,” “so creative.” I instantly shot it down, only to be mocked as “old-fashioned” and “out of touch with young people.” To protect our reputation, I secretly swapped back to the high-end menu. The wedding, in the end, was a smashing success. But the very next day, the intern went live on TikTok, crying and accusing me of “workplace bullying” and “stealing her credit.” And my fiancé, Alexander, didn’t say a word, tacitly agreeing with every single one of her accusations. Clients cancelled contracts, partnerships ended, our company’s reputation was dragged through the mud. Employees, jobless and furious, unleashed all their anger on me. I was beaten black and blue, subjected to a brutal online hate mob. My parents collapsed from stress and were hospitalized, and I ultimately drowned, my heart overflowing with bitter hatred. Reborn into this life, I’ve learned my lesson. No stopping them, no advising them, no saving them. A ridiculous “snack banquet”? I’ll make sure it crashes and burns, spectacularly. It’ll be an absolute nightmare. I sat in my familiar office. The intern’s proposal, signed by my fiancé, lay quietly on my desk. I coldly sneered and sold off all my shares. “This time,” I muttered, “I’m just here to watch the show unfold.” 0

It was only early autumn, but the lake water was already ice-cold, biting. I felt my lungs squeeze, the last bit of air forced out of my body. I drowned three days after that wedding. Bruised and battered, with claw marks from my ‘colleagues’ still stinging my face. The laid-off employees, furious and jobless, screamed that I deserved it, that I’d brought it all upon myself. The mob beating, the online hate, the contract cancellations, the shredded agreements – all because of one phrase: “I won’t approve the snack banquet.” Chloe cried a river of fake tears, claiming I bullied her, stole her brilliant idea. Alexander watched me surrounded, trapped, and didn’t utter a single word. My soul floated above, watching, as my father burst from his hospital room, his arm still connected to an IV drip, pulling my mother down to their knees to beg Alexander for one more chance for me. I died so quietly, yet I became the top trending topic: **[B*tch Finally Gets What She Deserves, Good Riddance]** Then, I opened my eyes again. I was sitting in the familiar conference room. The intern, Chloe, was in the corner, suddenly speaking. Her eyes sparkled, her voice cloyingly sweet: “All those fancy dishes are so old-fashioned! Who still eats dry roast beef, rubbery lobster, and boring champagne at a wedding?” “How about we switch to fried chicken, chips, and soda instead? It’s more down-to-earth, and it looks young and vibrant!” The conference room fell silent. The next second, laughter erupted. “Hahaha, how novel!” “You know, young people really prefer this stuff.” “That’s hilarious, I’m all for it!” The sensation of the lake water choking me was still so vivid. I clutched my chest, gulping down the long-lost air. I turned my head. Alexander and the various shareholders were all looking at me impatiently. Everything was exactly as it had happened in my memories. I… I was reborn? Gently closing my folder, I quickly accepted this gift of fate, smiling faintly: “I actually think soda with fried chicken could create quite the vibe.” Chloe nodded, beaming: “See? That’s what I’m saying! Who eats fancy stuff anymore? It’s so greasy~” She was wearing a frilly, sweet-looking dress, like the mean girl from a high school drama. I remembered her from my past life, too. She’d pop up softly, a knife in her hand, plastered with pink stickers, but it would stab you right where it hurt most. Alexander leaned back in his chair, lazily, his gaze full of doting affection for her: “Sounds interesting. The client said they wanted something ‘unique,’ right? This definitely fits the bill.” A chaotic circus of approval erupted as the group laughed and applauded. I lowered my eyes, then nodded: “We can give it a try.” As soon as I said that, the entire room seemed to relax, as if they’d been waiting for me to start a fight. Too bad. I wasn’t taking the bait this time. “Then I’ll re-arrange the schedule. I’ll also coordinate with the audio and presentation teams.” I said, gathering the documents on my desk. No one thought anything was unusual about me. They thought I had given up. Only I knew that what I needed to do now wasn’t to argue, but to plant the bombs. This planning company was founded by Alexander and me. I poured nearly all my savings into it, even my parents’ retirement fund. In the early days, to secure investments, I’d entertained clients until I was hospitalized multiple times. Alexander and I crammed into a tiny studio, working from dawn till dusk, never daring to slack off. In my previous life, worried about all our hard work going to waste, I had changed the menu before the wedding, ensuring its smooth execution. But I never imagined I’d die with a tainted reputation, and that my parents would fall ill because of me. This time, I wouldn’t stop them. Let them fill a high-society wedding, attended by the nation’s most prominent figures, with their bubble tea, fried chicken, and chips. Let them crash and burn, be humiliated, and perish. Caldwell Enterprises, that massive client, I’ll devour all by myself. I will settle every single score. 0

I locked my office door and dialed a long-uncalled number. “Victoria, I’m in. I’m joining your team.” “I need you to assemble a full-service, high-end banquet team within three days.” “Don’t ask why. I’ll explain the specifics when we meet. Just follow the proposal I’ve sent for now.” There was a few seconds of silence on the other end, then a cheerful agreement. “We’ve been waiting a long time to hear that from you.” This team was connected through my university senior, Victoria. She had already moved half her business to a high-end wedding planning firm abroad. They had invited me to join them several times, but in my previous life, for the sake of “partner balance” with Alexander and our company, I had painfully declined. This life, I wouldn’t give way. I wasn’t just here to save this one wedding; I was paving my own path. Alexander could be a partner, but I could also dismantle this mess and rebuild a new “Scarlett Events” without him. I instructed Victoria to sign contracts under a new name, directly with the hotel channels. At the same time, I quietly established my new company: legal registration, entity formation, and process approvals – all done in one swift motion. With my second chance at life, I was launching my second venture. I deliberately stayed late at the office, working overtime until everyone else had left. I returned alone to the projector control room, locked the door, and turned off the lights. In the glow of the screen, I pulled a specially designed USB drive from my bag— This USB could subtly switch signal channels and control playback content without detection. In my previous life, they’d used this exact setup to play a “Thank You Team” video that was, on the surface, glamorous, but secretly contained Chloe’s self-serving “innovation speech.” This time, I would make her personally tear off her masked face. I turned on the sound testing equipment, connecting the USB while simultaneously activating my voice recorder. Over the next few days, I would prepare a clear, complete gift for Alexander and Chloe. 0

The next morning, I arrived at work as usual. Chloe was even earlier than me, humming a tune as she arranged flowers. She saw me and deliberately sidled over, her eyes glistening, as if plucking up courage to speak: “Scarlett, you finally didn’t argue with me yesterday. It’s the first time you’ve acknowledged me, and I’m so happy.” Listening to her syrupy pretense of being wronged, ignoring the looks from those around us, I smiled too and nodded: “Yes, your proposal this time… it really is quite novel.” She blinked, inching closer, pushing her luck: “So, can I take over the schedule and logistics? Even Alex praised how clever I am, I’ll learn quickly.” “Of course,” I replied calmly. “You can handle the front-of-house flow. I’ll oversee the audio and back-end production.” She froze for a second, as if she couldn’t believe I was being so agreeable this time. Afraid I’d change my mind, she nodded vigorously: “Okay! I promise I won’t disappoint you!” She really thought I had given up. I watched her skip, without knocking, straight into Alexander’s office to deliver her good news. The frosted glass dimly showed their embracing silhouettes. Later, I walked past the office and heard voices drifting from the crack in the door. “Alex, why is she so easy to deal with now? Does she know she’s about to be sidelined?” Chloe’s sickly sweet voice murmured. Alexander chuckled softly: “She doesn’t know how to adapt. She’ll dig her own grave eventually.” “Tell me… can we take over all the upcoming projects too?” “Once this wedding is over, her reputation in this industry will be ruined. People like her are too much of a nuisance. It’s best to get rid of her early so there are no future worries.” Excellent. I pushed the door open, smiling: “There you are, I was just looking for you two.” Chloe startled, quickly jumped off Alexander’s lap, feigning composure, and straightening her clothes: “Scarlett, don’t misunderstand, Alex and I, we were just discussing the front-of-house floral arrangements~” “Scarlett, don’t be dramatic. We’re just working.” My gaze deliberately lingered between them. Under their tense stares, I simply nodded faintly: “Don’t overwork yourselves. Remember to go through the full rehearsal tonight, so there are no mistakes on the day.” She saw that I wasn’t reacting according to her script, leaving her pre-prepared act useless. Her smile became forced. I turned and left, the tiny camera clipped to my collar flashing a red light. I knew this was just the beginning. I wouldn’t rush my move. I would let them dig their own graves, one by one, and jump right in. I just needed to play one sound clip, flash one piece of paper, at the very end. And I could bury them, leaving not even their bones behind. This wedding would be their public execution. But I underestimated their viciousness. 0

**[Scarlett, could you please come down to the basement storage? This prop seems to be having an issue.]** I looked out the window at the darkening sky. I left a message for my team, but still headed to the company’s basement storage as per Chloe’s text. On the way, I noticed everyone’s eyes subtly falling on me. My heart stirred with suspicion, but I had no idea what trick Chloe was up to, so I decided to proceed cautiously. The elevator doors opened, revealing the usually lit basement storage in complete darkness. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I instinctively recoiled, not stepping out of the elevator. Instead, I frantically pressed the close-door button, wanting to go back upstairs. “Scarlett’s running! Grab her!” Chloe’s sharp voice echoed from the warehouse, making it sound even more sinister. Through the crack in the still-open elevator doors, I saw several burly men in black suits emerge from the darkness. The cold, white elevator light made them look even more menacing. Their arms looked like they could knock out eight of me with a single punch. “Press the elevator door, you idiots!” Chloe shouted into a walkie-talkie at the men from the warehouse entrance. My hands trembled as I frantically pressed the close button, but the elevator doors were maddeningly slow. Finally, the moment the doors fully closed, I watched the figures trapped outside. My heart, which had been pounding in my throat, slowly settled, filled with the relief of a narrow escape. The elevator opened again, back into the bright company floor, but my wildly thumping heart still hadn’t calmed down. I looked at the crowd waiting by the elevator, suddenly recalling Chloe’s sinister smile just before the doors completely shut. “What do you want?” My back pressed against the elevator wall, I forced myself to speak in a cold voice. They said nothing, but slowly advanced on me. “Scarlett, I know you’re still unhappy with me.” “I overheard you telling Alex you wanted to sabotage this plan. But everyone has approved it, I can’t let all our hard work, and the company’s investment, go to waste just because of you.” “So, to stop you from causing trouble, you’ll just have to be inconvenienced and stay in the company storage for a while.” My eyes widened. I could barely believe what I was hearing: “I never once objected! I never even talked to Alex!” Meeting my gaze, Alexander looked away, but then said in a deep voice: “Even now, you’re still putting on an act!” Seeing this, all the shareholders and employees instantly lost their initial reluctance and hesitation, casting strange looks at me. Chloe immediately teared up: “Scarlett must be mad that I gained everyone’s approval. It’s okay. For the company, let her yell at me.” “But the bigger picture is important. How can we treat a company project like a joke…?” “Scarlett, why are you so petty? You need to have a broader mindset in business, don’t always target people. It’s ridiculous.” “Yeah, I genuinely think Chloe’s plan is pretty innovative.” “Besides, our company is a true leader in the industry. We should be pioneers, break new ground! If we don’t dare to, are we supposed to let smaller companies take the lead?” “Exactly. For safety, I think we really can’t let Scarlett go. What if something goes wrong? If the company loses money, I’d have to kill myself!” As they piled on the accusations, Alexander tenderly wiped away Chloe’s tears, then slammed down the gavel, as if pronouncing my death sentence: “Then take her phone and lock her in the basement storage.” A chilling dread spread through me. My blood ran cold, and I couldn’t stop trembling. I slowly crouched down, covering my ears with my hands. There was a ringing in my ears. Not the sound of a broken light, but that high-pitched whistle from my memories. When I was five, I was kidnapped and held in a place just like this. No lights, no sounds, no people. I almost went insane then. Though I made it home alive, I’ve suffered from severe claustrophobia ever since. With light and a window, I can manage for a while. But in a truly enclosed space, after just ten minutes, I’ll completely break down. Alexander knew about this. He had held me then, his face full of heartache, promising me over and over that he would never leave me alone in a place like that again, not in this lifetime. “No,” I said, looking desperately at Alexander, who was coldly watching from the crowd. “Alexander, how can you lock me in the storage room? I promise I won’t do anything. Don’t lock me in…” I was dragged inside by several grown men, my fingers gripping the doorframe tightly. The unfiled edges tore at my flesh, drawing blood, but I refused to let go. In my terror, I abandoned my dignity, begging pitifully: “Alexander, I can’t be locked in the storage room. I’ll die, I really will die…” Some colleagues, seeing my horrific state, felt a pang of pity: “Alex, if it’s really necessary, just have a few people watch her. Don’t lock her in.” Alexander’s expression softened, perhaps remembering my claustrophobia, and he was about to give in, but the next second, a soft arm wrapped around his. Chloe looked up at Alexander, gently shaking his arm, pouting: “If we just have people watching, she’ll have too much freedom to move. What if she runs away?” “Besides, we’re just restricting her movement, it’s not like we’re not giving her food. What could possibly happen? She’s reacting so violently, she must have some plan she’s trying to sabotage, right? Can we really just let her walk away now?!” “No, Alexander, you know I have claustrophobia…” My face was ashen as I tried to defend myself. “Oh, come on, Scarlett. You’ve read too many novels. There’s a limit to making up stories.” “This basement has lights, it’s not even dark, what are you afraid of?” “Besides, you should face your fears directly, it helps with desensitization. I’m doing this for your own good. Why are you so unwilling to go in? Is it because you’re planning to ruin the wedding we worked so hard on?” At that, everyone fell silent. Alexander himself pried my fingers off, one by one, and shoved me inside.

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The auctioneer’s gavel had just fallen when my husband’s beloved, Scarlett Hayes, lunged at me, tears streaming down her face. “Avery! That bracelet can save my dad’s life! Our spiritual advisor said it’s the only thing that can protect our family! Please, please just give it to me!” I yanked my hand away, a cold sneer twisting my lips. “Your dad is seriously ill, and you’re here begging me for an antique I just bought instead of finding a doctor? That’s absurd!” That very evening, Damien Lockwood burst through the door, his face contorted with rage. “Scarlett’s father died! All because you wouldn’t give her that bracelet! That was a human life!” I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping me. “And how is that my problem? Did I somehow *kill* him?” For that single sentence, he drugged me. The next thing I knew, I woke up on a remote island in the Pacific. A global live-stream lit up the screen – Damien Lockwood, CEO of Lockwood Corp., personally confirming: his wife, Avery Lockwood, suffered from severe paranoid delusions and required isolated treatment. The live chat exploded: “That witch deserves it!” “Crazy people should just die!” The hashtag #MrsLockwoodIsInsane was trending high. On camera, I was “helplessly” curled up. Off camera, my finger pressed a hidden signal transmitter. *Quinn, do it.* Damien, your business empire is about to crumble! 0

My eyelids felt heavy as I forced them open a crack. The blinding white light instantly pierced my pupils, triggering involuntary tears. My blurry vision hadn’t yet focused when a massive, suspended screen on the opposite wall jolted into view. The screen was covered with dense, rapidly scrolling text: **[The witch is awake! Look at her eyes! Definitely insane!]** **[Crazy woman, go take your meds! Don’t pollute the screen!]** **[The murderer who killed Miss Hayes’s father still has the nerve to live? Pay with your life!]** **[Mr. Lockwood got the absolute worst luck marrying this madwoman!]** **[#MrsLockwoodIsInsane is trending #1! Universal celebration!]** Every word felt like a sharp sword plunging into my brain. My mind buzzed. Where was I? Were these vicious words directed at me? Fragments of memory, accompanied by a surge of fury, suddenly flooded my mind: At the auction house entrance, Scarlett Hayes’s pathetic, tear-streaked face had lunged at me, clutching my sleeve tightly: “Avery! Please! Our spiritual advisor said only this bracelet can protect our family and bring peace to my father’s soul! Will you please let me have it? I’m begging you!” Her act was so sincere, as if my refusal would make me a cold-blooded murderer. Now, amidst the hateful comments, it seemed utterly ironic. I pulled away from her, my voice calm and cold. “Scarlett, your father is gravely ill. Instead of finding a doctor or staying by his bedside, you’re here begging me to ‘give’ you a three-million-dollar antique? That logic is laughably absurd!” Her face had instantly paled, but I caught the flash of venom in her eyes. It was so clear now. My refusal had infuriated Damien, touching his beloved Scarlett, who apparently couldn’t tolerate even the slightest discomfort. My memories were suddenly cut short. The heavy iron door swung open with a resounding *clank*. The pungent smell of disinfectant instantly flooded my nostrils. A woman in a crisp, starched white lab coat, wearing rimless glasses, and with an indifferent expression, walked in. This was Dr. Anya Petrova, Damien’s personal physician. Behind her followed two burly, expressionless orderlies. “Mrs. Lockwood, you’re awake.” Dr. Petrova’s voice was flat and emotionless, the cold needle in her hand glinting ominously. “Your emotions seem very unstable, which is not good for your ‘treatment’. Please cooperate with the sedative injection.” “Treatment?” My voice was hoarse, laced with unbelievable anger. “What disease do I have? Tell Damien to get out here! How dare he do this to me, all for Scarlett Hayes?!” It was exactly as I’d suspected. Damien had sent me to this hellhole just to appease Scarlett. Damien’s favoritism wasn’t new, yet he was my husband! Scarlett had “accidentally” spilled scalding coffee on my new limited-edition handbag. Just as I was about to scold her, Damien had cut in, frowning, “It’s just a bag, Scarlett didn’t mean it. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.” For our meticulously planned wedding anniversary candlelit dinner, he’d abruptly left because of a phone call from Scarlett claiming she was “feeling down,” his excuse being, “It’s not safe for a woman to be out alone at night.” At a crucial charity gala for the Lockwood family, he openly brought Scarlett, letting her stand by his side as his “assistant,” soaking in everyone’s attention, while I, his legitimate wife, felt like an outsider. Not to mention the countless expensive gifts, the late-night ‘heart-to-heart’ calls, and the way his eyes always held a touch more warmth when he looked at Scarlett than when he looked at me… Now, just because I refused Scarlett’s illogical, almost outright robbery-like demand once, Damien could twist the narrative, slap the ‘crazy’ label on me, and discard me like trash on this isolated island prison in the Pacific! He even used a global live-stream to humiliate and destroy me! “I’m not sick!” I screamed at Dr. Petrova, but it was more like roaring at the devil manipulating all this from behind the screen. “It’s Damien! It’s Scarlett! They’re the crazy ones! They’re insane!” The massive screen was right in front of me, the vicious comments still scrolling frantically. Every line felt like Damien and Scarlett mocking me through the mouths of thousands. Dr. Petrova’s eyes held only cold indifference. She gestured to the orderlies. Hands like steel vises once again pinned my powerless body. The cold alcohol swab rubbed against my skin, sending a shiver through me. “Mrs. Lockwood, please be quiet. Your delusions are worsening.” Dr. Petrova’s voice was a flat pronouncement. The needle pierced my skin, and the chilling liquid flowed in. Numbness spread rapidly, and my consciousness began to sink. Before I was completely swallowed by darkness, the huge screen and the scrolling hate comments morphed into Damien’s tender profile, wiping away Scarlett’s tears. I imagined Scarlett nestled in Damien’s arms, wearing my jade bracelet on her wrist. In the end, I was left with only one thought: *Damien and Scarlett, that twisted, despicable pair, won’t get away with this!* 0

I don’t know how much time passed before the suffocating effects of the drug slowly receded like a tide. I opened my eyes again. The massive screen on the opposite wall was still lit, though the comments seemed to scroll a bit slower. Still, those hateful words – “witch,” “insane,” “pay with your life” – appeared more and more frequently. “Ugh…” A dry, cracked throat made me groan. I struggled to sit up, but my limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. The drug hadn’t fully worn off. I painstakingly managed to stand. Just then, the iron door creaked open again. Dr. Petrova’s poker face reappeared, but this time she held a tablet, not a syringe. “Mrs. Lockwood, how are you feeling?” Her voice was still devoid of emotion, but her eyes held a hint of scrutiny. “Mr. Lockwood is very concerned about your condition. He’s arranged a video call.” She turned the tablet screen towards me. The screen lit up, and Damien’s handsome yet cold face appeared on the display. And leaning on his shoulder, almost filling half the screen, was Scarlett! Her eyes were slightly red, as if she’d just been crying, making her appear fragile and pitiable. But my gaze was instantly fixed on her raised wrist. My exquisite, luminous jade bracelet – a family heirloom from the early 20th century, with its perfect translucency and vibrant green hue – was resting firmly on Scarlett’s slender wrist! That was my mother’s family’s property! I had paid three million dollars for it, legitimately winning it at auction! Now, it was like a war trophy, ostentatiously worn by the woman who had framed me! A surge of blood rushed to my head, threatening to burst through my skull! “Avery,” Damien’s voice came through the cold electronic device, laced with fake concern and undeniable reproach. “I’m relieved to see you’ve ‘calmed down’. Scarlett made a special trip to see me today. She’s very worried about you, even though… you treated her that way.” He turned his head, gazing tenderly at Scarlett leaning on his shoulder, with a softness I had never received. Scarlett, at the opportune moment, raised the hand wearing the bracelet, wiping away non-existent tears, her voice choked. “Damien, don’t talk about Avery like that. She didn’t mean it, really. It’s just, just that my father…” She started to speak, then stopped herself, subtly throwing out the implication of her “father’s death” again, successfully igniting a deeper resentment and disgust towards me in Damien’s eyes. “See? Scarlett is still defending you!” Damien turned to the screen, his tone suddenly stern. “Avery, you stay here and ‘reflect’ properly, cooperate with Dr. Petrova’s treatment! Think about what you’ve done! We’ll talk about anything else only when you truly realize your mistakes and stop your paranoid delusions against others!” His gaze swept over my pale, haggard face. There was no trace of pity, only impatience. The screen went dark. Dr. Petrova took back the tablet, and a tiny, almost imperceptible sneer tugged at the corner of her mouth again. “Mrs. Lockwood, you heard Mr. Lockwood. For your ‘recovery,’ please maintain emotional stability.” She turned and left with the orderlies, the iron door once again closing heavily. The giant screen remained lit, scrolling with new comments: **[Wow! That was Mr. Lockwood and Miss Hayes! They look so good together!]** **[Miss Hayes is so kind, even speaking up for that crazy woman!]** **[Seeing that madwoman look so pathetic makes me feel relieved! She deserves it!]** **[Her hands are empty. She really doesn’t deserve to wear that bracelet! Miss Hayes looks so much better wearing it!]** My empty stomach clenched, making me feel nauseous. It wasn’t hunger. It was the overwhelming tide of malice, Damien’s blatant favoritism, and Scarlett wearing *my* bracelet, nestled in my husband’s arms, soaking in the world’s sympathy and praise. While I was trapped on this isolated island, branded as insane! Rage, humiliation, and hatred filled my mind like a burning flame, threatening to consume me entirely! With difficulty, I moved my numb fingers, inch by inch, exploring deep into my hair. My fingertip brushed against an incredibly tiny, hard bump. I pressed hard with my finger, activating the switch on the miniature signal transmitter. 0

Dr. Petrova brought me lunch, but it was just a sticky, foul-smelling gruel. I refused to eat it. This clearly angered Damien. Soon, a new “treatment” began. It wasn’t just sedatives anymore. The medication Dr. Petrova injected no longer brought drowsiness, but intense headaches, severe stomach cramps, and uncontrollable nausea. The orderlies’ movements grew rougher too. Each injection or “examination” felt like torture, leaving large patches of ugly bruises. “Mrs. Lockwood, Mr. Lockwood hopes you can ‘recognize reality’ and ‘sincerely apologize’ to Miss Hayes.” Dr. Petrova said flatly after an injection, though her eyes seemed to hold a fleeting, imperceptible hint of something complex. “Your ‘delusions’ and ‘aggressiveness’ are very detrimental to your recovery.” “Dream on!” “I, Avery Reed, will die here before I bow down to that pathetic woman and her pathetic lapdog!” My defiance seemed to enrage Damien. The torment escalated. The unidentified drugs were injected more frequently, in larger doses. My consciousness often teetered on the edge of extreme pain and oblivion. Vomiting became a daily occurrence. Even when my stomach was empty, I could only retch bitter bile. On the huge screen, the malice in the comments also escalated with my “misery,” filled with words like “serves her right” and “good riddance.” That afternoon, after another injection, a sharp abdominal pain seized me. Cold sweat drenched my entire body. I curled up on the cold floor, barely able to breathe. The comments instantly flooded with mockery: **[She moved! Starting to go crazy?]** **[Sign of a mental breakdown? Grab your popcorn!]** **[Who is she putting on a show for? Does she think anyone pities her?]** Just then, a warm gush, without warning, surged from between my legs! My body stiffened. I looked down in disbelief. A small, striking patch of dark red had spread across my light-colored pants! Blood?! My mind went blank. My period? No, the timing was completely off! And this feeling was entirely different from usual! The comments clearly caught my abnormality and my action of looking down, immediately exploding: **[WTF! What’s wrong with her pants? What’s that red stuff?]** **[Could she be on her period? How disgusting! Polluting the camera!]** **[What does a crazy person care about periods? Maybe she self-harmed!]** **[Tsk tsk, so dirty! Mr. Lockwood, divorce her already!]** Panic instantly seized me! This wasn’t right! Something was terribly wrong! The bleeding from my lower body, coupled with a constant, heavy ache in my lower abdomen, instinctively filled me with immense unease. “Blood… I’m bleeding! Dr. Petrova, help me!” I ignored the humiliation, my voice trembling uncontrollably with fear, as I called for Dr. Petrova. “I don’t know what’s happening! My stomach hurts so bad! I need a doctor! A real doctor! I need to go to a hospital!” Dr. Petrova, who had rushed over, also froze. She saw the rapidly expanding dark red bloodstain, and for the first time, her brows genuinely furrowed. She quickly walked over, knelt down, and swiftly examined me with gloved fingers. Her face instantly turned grim. She motioned for the orderlies to step back, then stood up and walked to the room’s corner, to the communicator connecting to the outside world, pressing the call button. Her voice was barely a whisper, but in the silent cell, it was still clearly audible: “Mr. Lockwood, Avery’s condition is not good! She—she’s experiencing heavy bleeding from her lower body!” “This exceeds the expected scope of ‘treatment’. I recommend immediately stopping the current medication regimen and conducting a detailed examination, or sending her to the hospital! Any longer, and her life may be in danger!”

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Married for eight years, Julian Hayes had slept with half the entertainment industry – men and women alike. When I was eight months pregnant, his latest trophy girlfriend offended a big shot at a business dinner. To make amends, Julian kicked my swollen belly right in front of all the guests. “What are you standing there for, idiot? Go apologize to Mr. Chen. Drink with him.” I clutched my stomach, my voice trembling, “You forgot, I’m allergic to alcohol…” He sneered, grabbing my hair and forcing my head down to the floor. “A baby? Who’s to say it’s even my kid?” I was forced to my knees on the cold floor, made to drink. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my abdomen, and blood streamed down my legs. The guests around us pointed and whispered. His mistress, Vivian, nestled against him, giggling, “Mr. Hayes, look, she’s bleeding, how disgusting…” That night, I nearly bled out from complications during childbirth, almost dying on the operating table. Meanwhile, videos of him hooking up with young models were trending everywhere. I turned around and packed all my belongings. If that’s how it was, then I would leave.

I lay weakly on the VIP hospital bed. The anesthesia had just worn off, and the incision burned with a fiery pain. A nurse came in, holding the baby. She said softly, “Mrs. Hayes, it’s a boy. Would you like to see him?” I shook my head. It wasn’t that I didn’t care for the baby; I just didn’t have the strength to even look at him. After all, from now on, this child would be my only family. My phone screen lit up. A notification popped up: **[Julian Hayes, CEO of Hayes Corp., spotted entering a hotel late at night with a new companion, rumored to be the popular young star Vivian Thorne.]** In the photo, Julian had his arm around Vivian’s waist, leaning in to talk to her, his gaze so soft it could melt stone. I stared at that photo for a long time, then suddenly laughed. Eight years ago, my father had a sudden brain hemorrhage and collapsed in the company conference room. Back then, Julian held me tight, his eyes bloodshot with tears, his voice hoarse: “Claire, don’t be scared. I’ll take care of you from now on.” Thinking about it now, it felt truly ironic. Just then, the hospital room door pushed open. “Still not discharged, sister?” Vivian Thorne walked in, smiling sweetly. I ignored her. She didn’t care, simply walked over to the bassinet, and reached out to poke the baby’s face. “Julian said this baby looks just like him. That’s nice.” I looked up at her. “What are you doing here?” She smiled, pulled a document from her bag, and tossed it in front of me. “Julian sent me to get the divorce papers. Just sign them, don’t waste each other’s time.” I picked up the agreement, flipping through a couple of pages. The terms were ridiculously harsh. The child would go to him, and I wouldn’t get a single penny. “Why didn’t he come himself?” I asked. Vivian shrugged. “He’s busy. He’s taking me to a brand gala tonight.” As she spoke, she suddenly reached out and pulled open my hospital gown, exposing the still-healing incision. “Tsk, so ugly.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “No wonder Julian doesn’t want to touch you.” I gasped, a sharp pain lancing through me. Before I could react, she suddenly grabbed my hand and slapped herself hard across the face! “Ah!” She shrieked, falling to the floor. Her forehead lightly grazed the corner of the table, breaking the skin a little. Immediately, the hospital room door burst open, and Julian Hayes stormed in. “Vivian!” He scooped her up in his arms, his eyes cold as ice. “Claire Reynolds, are you insane?!” I opened my mouth, wanting to explain, but swallowed the words back. What was the point of explaining? He never believed me anyway. Vivian clung to him, weeping dramatically, “Julian, I just wanted to see the baby, and my sister suddenly attacked me…” Julian looked at me coldly. “Sign the divorce papers. I’ll send my assistant to pick them up tomorrow.” With that, he walked out, holding Vivian. At the door, he paused, and without turning his head, said, “Claire Reynolds, you disgust me.” The door slammed shut with a bang. I sat on the bed, suddenly feeling utterly exhausted. Right, it was time for me to leave.

I held the baby, sitting on the hospital bed, looking down at his sleeping face. A newborn, just three days old, his skin still wrinkled, tiny hands tightly clenched, occasionally twitching unconsciously. The nurse pushed the door open, a thermometer in her hand. “Mrs. Hayes, it’s time to take the baby’s temperature.” I nodded, carefully handing the baby over. Just then, the hospital room door suddenly burst open. Vivian Thorne walked in, high heels clicking, followed by two men in white coats. “What are you doing?” I instinctively clutched the baby tighter. Vivian smirked at me. “Sister, Julian said he wants to do a paternity test on the baby.” I shot up, the incision pain making me gasp. “Is he crazy? The baby’s only three days old!” “Exactly why we need to do it now,” Vivian walked over, reaching out to snatch the baby. “What if he’s not Julian’s?” I held the baby tightly. “Get out!” The two men immediately stepped forward. One held my shoulders, while the other forcibly took the baby from my arms. The baby woke up, wailing. “Give him back!” I struggled to reach for him but was violently shoved back onto the bed. Vivian held the baby, swinging him triumphantly. “Don’t worry, it’ll be quick.” She turned to leave, but I suddenly lunged, grabbing her wrist. “Vivian Thorne! If you dare touch my son, I swear I’ll kill you!” She cried out in pain, shaking me off. Her eyes hardened, and she suddenly raised her hand. “Ah!” She slammed the baby to the floor! Time seemed to stop. His tiny body hit the floor with a dull thud, and his cries abruptly ceased. I scrambled off the bed like a madwoman, scooping up the baby. His little face was already bruised purple, blood oozed from the corner of his mouth, his breathing so faint it was almost imperceptible. “Doctor! Doctor!” My heart seized up. I screamed hysterically, clutching the baby as I rushed out the door. The nurses in the hallway saw what happened and immediately pushed a resuscitation cart over. “Quick! The baby’s suffocating!” I was held back outside the emergency room, trembling, collapsing onto the floor. Vivian strolled over leisurely, looking down at me. “Oops, my hand slipped.” I looked up, glaring at her, wishing I could rip her face off. I screamed, “You did it on purpose!” She shrugged, then suddenly clutched her stomach. “Julian, I hurt so bad…” It was then I noticed Julian Hayes standing at the end of the hallway. He rushed over, pulling Vivian into his arms. “What’s wrong?” “Sister… she pushed me…” Vivian leaned into his embrace, her face pale. “My stomach hurts so much… our baby…” Julian’s face changed instantly. He whipped his head towards me. “Claire Reynolds! Vivian’s pregnant, do you know that?!” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My baby was still in the ER, and he was worried about Vivian’s fake stomachache? Just then, the emergency room door opened. The doctor walked out, took off his mask, and shook his head. “I’m sorry, we did our best…” My vision blurred, and I nearly fainted. Julian frowned. “What happened?” The doctor sighed. “The baby had a brain hemorrhage. We couldn’t save him…” Vivian suddenly shrieked, “Impossible! That baby wasn’t Julian’s anyway, serves him right for dying!” Julian’s face darkened as he looked at me. “Claire Reynolds, was that child even mine?” I stared at him, then suddenly smiled. “Does it matter if he was yours? He’s dead anyway.” Julian grabbed my collar. “Say that again?!” I looked at his enraged face and said, word for word: “Julian Hayes, your son is dead, killed by the woman you love most.” Vivian immediately burst into tears. “Julian, she’s slandering me! She clearly just couldn’t hold the baby properly…” Julian released me, turning to embrace Vivian. “Don’t worry, I believe you.” I stood by the emergency room door, watching their embracing backs, and suddenly everything felt utterly ridiculous. My child was dead, and the murderer was cuddling with my husband. The nurse carefully brought out the baby, wrapped in a white cloth. I took the tiny body, and tears finally streamed down my face. “Baby, Mama’s taking you home…” Julian looked at me coldly. “Leave the child. We need an autopsy.” I clutched the baby tighter, stepping back. “No way!” Vivian pulled on his arm. “Julian, let her go. Anyway, that child…” “Shut up!” I snapped my head up, my eyes burning with a desire to tear her apart. Vivian flinched, startled, and hid behind Julian. I clutched the baby close, retreating step by step. “Julian Hayes, from today on, we’re done. We have nothing left between us.” “See you at the courthouse at 2 PM.” With that, I turned and ran towards the elevator. As the elevator doors closed, I couldn’t hold it in anymore, collapsing to my knees. I hugged the baby’s cold body tightly, sobbing uncontrollably. Why… why did my only family leave me today?

I held the baby’s urn, waiting at the courthouse entrance for an hour. Finally, Julian Hayes’ black Maybach pulled up. As he got out, Vivian Thorne followed, intimately linking her arm through his. “Sorry, sister, Julian insisted on having afternoon tea with me, so we got a little delayed.” She smiled sweetly, her hand caressing her flat stomach. I clutched the urn in my arms, saying nothing. Julian frowned, looking at me. “You insist on getting divorced today?” I nodded, almost without hesitation. “Yes.” He sneered, striding into the courthouse. Vivian followed behind him, turning back to give me a triumphant wink. The divorce agreement was simple: I would leave with nothing, not even child support. The clerk, just doing her job, asked, “Have you settled the property division?” “Yes, she wants nothing.” Julian tapped impatiently on the table. The clerk glanced at me in surprise. I nodded. “Yes, all I want is my freedom.” The moment the pen touched the paper, Julian suddenly pressed down on my hand. “Claire Reynolds, are you sure you have no other demands?” I looked up at him. That face, which had once consumed my every thought, now felt utterly alien. “I do,” I said softly, noticing his brief flicker of impatience. “Can I have my son’s ashes?” He paused, a little incredulous. “That’s it?” I nodded. Then I looked at the clerk. “Stamp it.” The sound of the seal was faint, but I heard it clearly. As I walked out of the courthouse, Vivian suddenly shrieked, “Oh, Julian, I forgot to tell you!” She pulled an envelope from her bag. “A few days ago, my friend took some photos of sister at a hotel…” Her hand trembled, and the photos scattered across the ground. I looked down, and my blood ran cold. The photos showed me, heavily pregnant, being intimate with a strange man in a hotel. There were also photos of me getting cozy with several men, from all sorts of angles. “These are fake!” I snapped my head up, trembling with rage. “Julian Hayes, you know me! I would never do something like this!” He didn’t look at me, picking up the photos, his eyes growing colder. “Heh, no wonder you were in such a hurry to divorce. So you’ve found someone else?” “These photos are photoshopped! Vivian Thorne is framing me!” I reached out to grab them. “If you don’t believe me, I can find a professional agency to veri—” Before I could finish, Vivian suddenly lunged and grabbed my hair. “Bitch! Cheating and then accusing me of faking it?” My scalp screamed in pain as I was forced to look up, seeing no reaction from Julian. “Julian, look.” Vivian suddenly ripped open my collar. “She even has bite marks from some wild man on her collarbone!” I froze. Those were bruises from the IV drip when I was hospitalized with a fever last month. “No, that’s not…” I was about to explain, but Vivian violently shoved me. “Wow, sister, you really know how to have a good time, don’t you?” I stumbled backward, and the urn in my arms fell to the ground. *Shatter!* The wind caught the grey-white ashes, blowing them all over my face. Time seemed to stand still. I knelt on the ground blankly, futilely trying to gather the scattered ashes with my hands, large tears splashing onto the ground. “Baby… baby…” I called out, my voice trembling, but I could only watch helplessly as the wind blew away the last bit of ash. Julian Hayes stood motionless. When I looked up at him, I saw him staring intensely at the photos. “Claire Reynolds,” he said coldly. “You’re truly disgusting.” Vivian nestled against him, unable to control the smirk on her lips. I ignored him, kneeling at the courthouse entrance, my hands covered in my son’s ashes. Why… why wasn’t killing my son enough? Why wouldn’t they even leave me his ashes? As I thought this, I suddenly looked up at Julian Hayes.

“How pathetic. He didn’t even get to see the world clearly before dying at the hands of your mistress.” “And now, even his last bit of ash…” Julian’s expression wavered for a moment, but Vivian immediately grabbed his hand. “Julian, ignore her. She just wants sympathy! Those photos…” “Enough.” Julian cut her off, turning to me. “Claire Reynolds, take all your things and get out.” Vivian pouted in dissatisfaction. “Julian, don’t let her off so easy! She should pay for emotional damages!” Julian stroked her head. “Good girl. She doesn’t have any money anyway.” “And I find her money disgusting.” He cast a cold glance at me, then walked away, holding the laughing Vivian Thorne. In the bus station waiting area, I tightly clutched a ticket to a small coastal town down south. My bag contained my child’s death certificate, my divorce papers, and a tiny bit of his ashes. The broadcast announced boarding for my bus. I stood up, then suddenly heard a familiar name on the TV news. “Julian Hayes, CEO of Hayes Corp., publicly announced yesterday that he will invest fifty million dollars in children’s medical charities…” I looked up at the TV screen. Julian stood tall in a suit before the camera, with the elegantly dressed Vivian Thorne by his side. A reporter asked if this was to accumulate good karma for their upcoming child. He smiled and didn’t answer, while Vivian shyly caressed her stomach. My stomach churned, and I rushed into the restroom, dry heaving. The woman in the mirror was gaunt, with heavy dark circles under her eyes. My phone suddenly vibrated. I looked, it was an unknown number. “Hello?” “Ms. Reynolds? This is Nurse Sarah from City Hospital.” The caller lowered her voice. “Do you remember me? The nurse who was on duty that day.” My fingers tightened instantly, a little nervous. “Yes, I remember.” “I have a surveillance video here… from the hallway that day.” Her voice was trembling, but she continued, “I secretly backed it up. Ms. Thorne… she intentionally dropped the baby.” The air conditioning in the waiting area was strong, but I felt a chilling cold to my bones. “Why are you telling me this?” “My conscience couldn’t take it…” Her voice was tearful, stammering, “The baby was so pitiful… I’ve sent the video to your email.” After hanging up, I tremblingly opened my email. The video was short, only about ten seconds. In the footage, Vivian Thorne held my baby, then let go without hesitation! I quickly closed my phone, my chest heaving. Even seeing that footage again, my heart couldn’t take it. The broadcast sounded again. My bus was boarding. As I dragged my suitcase towards the gate, I hesitated for a moment, then forwarded the video to Julian Hayes’ email. No message, just a blank subject line. Let him discover the truth himself. I deleted all records, took out the SIM card, broke it, and threw it in the trash. From now on, Claire Reynolds would completely disappear.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “297293”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic