Category: English

In my last life, a severe illness I had prevented my husband from traveling to the border for a business trip. He immediately canceled his flight, pulled me into his arms, and gently comforted me. On the phone, he only told my sister: “The project is crucial. You go in my place.” But no one expected that the so-called partner was a black-hearted scam company. My sister had her organs harvested and was tortured to death. I was heartbroken. He held me as I broke down, promising in a choked voice that even though my sister was gone, he would love me twice as much. He kept his word. For ten years, he wouldn’t let me suffer a bit, spoiling me into a useless mess. Until the day I went into labor, in such agonizing pain I nearly passed out. Yet, he pressed down hard on the call button, his words dripping with venom. “If you hadn’t gotten ‘sick’ so conveniently back then, I wouldn’t have let her go alone to that meeting! I could have saved Chloe! You killed her!” “Chloe must be so lonely down there. You and this bastard child, go keep her company!” Only then did I realize that ten years of ‘love’ had been nothing but a cruel deception. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day he was supposed to leave for the border. This time, I took the phone from his hand and personally booked two one-way tickets for him and my sister.

“Anya, are you really sure I don’t need to stay? Your health…” Liam held my hand, his brow furrowed, his face etched with worry and reluctance. “I’m fine. And Mom and my mother will both take care of me. You go, don’t worry.” I shook my head, my voice hoarse, “Besides, how important is this project? It’s the result of countless all-nighters you and Chloe pulled. We’re so close to the finish line; how can we let it be delayed because of me?” Liam’s mom patted his shoulder, “Exactly! Anya’s right! You and Chloe have both lost weight because of this project. It’s about to succeed, so hurry up and get ready to leave.” My mom quickly echoed, “Yes, Liam. Chloe’s only been with your company for a year, and she’s already helping you shoulder such an important project. It’s all thanks to your guidance.” “We’ve got Anya covered here. You two just go, don’t worry.” Liam leaned down and pressed a kiss on my forehead, his voice gentle, “You focus on recovering. We’ll bring back good news.” I nodded obediently, watching him and my sister, Chloe, leave the hospital room. My dear sister and husband, in this life, I’ll grant your wish. May you be a cursed pair, bound even in the afterlife. Half an hour later, Chloe’s SnapChat updated. She leaned intimately against Liam’s shoulder, their heads close as they looked at documents, a palpable intimacy between them. The caption was a brutal stab to my heart: “My hard work and my love are both by my side. How incredibly lucky I am!” I stared at that photo, my stomach churned violently. A year ago, Chloe graduated from college and joined Liam’s company. I never imagined that, under the guise of work, the two would spend their days and nights together. The office, hotels, the car, even the marital bedroom Liam and I shared—all had borne witness to their intimate moments. For the sake of this family, I swallowed my pain and tried everything to win my husband back. Thinking about it now, it was utterly ridiculous. How could someone whose heart had already changed ever want to come back? In my last life, I deliberately stood in a heavy rain to get a high fever, stopping my husband and sister from going on that business trip to the border. I succeeded, but I didn’t foresee Chloe choosing to go alone. Nor did I foresee that the project was a vicious, predatory scam that devoured people whole. When the news came that my sister had died in a foreign land, I lived in endless self-blame and guilt. I thought I had killed her, that my pathetic selfish desire had destroyed her life and their shared career. It wasn’t until the day before I was due to give birth that I discovered a recording of my sister and husband plotting to kill me after they returned. Only then did I see their true faces! My emotional agitation from the recording led to a difficult labor. And my husband seized the opportunity to personally send me and my unborn child to the chopping block. Starting over, I only wish that despicable pair, so consumed by their twisted ‘love’, may they be a cursed pair, eternally bound even as ghosts in the afterlife! My phone screen lit up again. Chloe sent a SnapChat message, her tone innocent: “Sis, guess what surprise brother-in-law has prepared for me tonight?”

I sneered, not bothering to reply. Liam’s FaceTime call arrived as expected: “Anya, we’ve arrived. Just got to the hotel.” He looked at the camera, his voice tender: “Feeling better? Did you take your medicine?” “Did you eat well? Is your body feeling better? I’m not there with you, I can’t even feed you myself.” If I didn’t carry the memories of two lifetimes, I might have continued to drown in his fake affection. But now, I leaned weakly against the headboard, softly murmuring, “Hmm.” “I ate. You don’t need to worry. Get some rest.” “How can I not worry? Not seeing you, I always feel uneasy.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, dripping with feigned tenderness. In my last life, I was so moved by his meticulous care that I was completely infatuated, thinking he was just having a moment of foolishness and still loved me. So I willingly played the fool and waited for him to come back, only to finally be killed by him, along with my unborn child, all for his ‘love’. The next second, Chloe burst into the frame. She was wearing a bathrobe, her face flushed, with faint marks of intimacy visible around her collar. Seeing me in the camera, Chloe feigned surprise and covered her mouth: “Oh, brother, are you video calling sister?” Liam turned and looked at her fondly, then explained to the camera: “Chloe’s room’s water heater broke, so she had to come here to shower.” What a pathetic excuse. Chloe walked closer with a smile, naturally wrapped her arms around Liam’s waist, and leaned her head intimately against his broad back, flashing me a provocative smile. “Don’t worry, Sis, I’ll take good care of brother-in-law for you. Look, he’s had a long day, I was just about to give him a massage.” Before I could react, she pulled a black card from Liam’s pocket. “Oh, by the way, Sis, look at this,” Chloe’s voice was innocent: “Brother-in-law said that after this project is successful, he’ll use the credit on this card to buy me an ‘Ocean’s Heart’ necklace as a reward. He said that only I deserve the elegance of that necklace.” Ocean’s Heart! Last year, for my birthday, I had pestered Liam repeatedly about wanting that necklace, but he refused, saying it was “too flashy, not suitable for you!” A rush of blood went straight to my head, my nails digging deep into my palms. Liam gently ruffled her hair: “Anya, Chloe has put a lot into this project. This is her deserved reward. You’re always so generous, you won’t mind, right?” I masked all my emotions, weakly coughed a few times, my voice hoarse: “…I don’t mind. Then you two… get some rest early.” With that, without waiting for their reaction, I hung up the video call. The screen went dark, reflecting my pale, cold face. Less than ten seconds later, Liam sent a SnapChat message. [Anya, I’m sorry. Chloe didn’t mean it. She’s just a childish act. Don’t be mad at her.] [About the ‘Ocean’s Heart,’ I was wrong. When you get better, I’ll take you to pick out an even more beautiful one, okay? Please don’t be angry with me.] I looked at his hypocritical explanation and found it utterly ridiculous. Did he think I was still the fool from my last life, who would soften with a few sweet words? I didn’t reply, throwing my phone to the side.

The next morning, my fever broke. Despite the nurse’s objections, I checked myself out of the hospital and returned to the home Liam and I shared. I stood up, ready to clear out Liam’s belongings and start my new life. While tidying the study, I found a locked metal box. In my last life, I had curiously asked Liam what was inside, and he just smiled gently, saying it contained some of his little secrets. I never thought to open it. But now… I found some tools and pried open the small lock. The moment the box opened, my breath hitched. Inside were a thick stack of photos and a journal. All the photos were of Liam and Chloe. There were pictures of them together at the beach when I didn’t know; pictures of them at an amusement park wearing matching couple headbands; and there was even one… of Chloe in my pajamas, kissing Liam’s cheek, in Liam’s and my own bedroom. The earliest one was from the second year of our marriage. My hands began to tremble uncontrollably. I opened the journal. The first page of the journal read: “To my one true light, my Chloe.” It documented all the little moments of his and Chloe’s “love.” [April 7th, Sunny. Today, Anya got upset with me again because of work. I’m a bit annoyed. Only when I’m with Chloe can I truly feel relaxed and happy. She’s like the sun, capable of illuminating all my shadows.] [August 15th, Rainy. Chloe said she liked that limited edition bag, so I secretly bought it and gave it to her. Seeing her surprised smile, I felt it was all worth it. Anya never gets happy over these small things; she’s too boring.] [December 1st, Cloudy. I argued with Anya again today. She doesn’t understand how hard I work. I ran away from home, and Chloe found me. She stayed with me all night in the cold wind, even taking off her own jacket for me. At that moment, I truly wanted to abandon everything and elope with her.] So it wasn’t a case of love blossoming at work; they had been secretly involved for ages! Nauseating. Absolutely sickening! I had to burn all memories of Liam. I grabbed a bucket and a lighter, then lit and tossed all the photos and gifts I had gathered into the bucket. Burn! Burn it all! Burn away this disgusting past! I stood over the pile of ashes, feeling something within me slowly peel away. Just then, my phone buzzed incessantly. It was a message from my sister, Chloe. She and Liam were walking side-by-side on a bustling foreign shopping street, Liam patiently choosing an expensive scarf for her. They were dining in a high-end restaurant, she held up a wine glass, smiling brightly, and Liam looked at her with doting affection. The latest message showed a foreign businessman enthusiastically clapping Liam’s shoulder, saying in broken English: “Mr. Miller, your wife is truly young and beautiful, you two are such a perfect match!” Chloe shyly lowered her head and linked her arm through Liam’s, and Liam, too, just smiled, silently confirming everything. I finished watching with a blank expression, then tossed my phone aside. No anger, no sadness. After all, that despicable pair was about to embark on their “bright” future together. The next morning, just as dawn broke, my phone suddenly rang. The name “Liam” flashed on the screen. My heart clenched. Was he calling to announce a death? I took a deep breath and pressed the answer button. “Anya, darling, are you awake?” Liam’s voice was as gentle as ever. I froze, unable to speak for a moment. How could this be? In my last life, wasn’t Chloe tortured to death on the third day? Had the torture lasted longer for both of them this time? “Good news! The project is a success! They loved our proposal and signed the contract first thing this morning!” Liam’s voice was filled with joy: “I’ve bought tickets for tomorrow. I’ll be home soon!” Boom!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “297249”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance

For seven years, I lived under a different name overseas. Now, to celebrate my sister’s graduation, I secretly came back home. I went straight to the Art Authentication Gallery where she was interning, only to find the three prospective fiancés I’d arranged for her years ago, sneering and mocking her. “You ungrateful brat, you’re nothing but trouble! Stealing Serena’s clients was bad enough, but how dare you accuse her of stealing artifacts?” “You’re such a lowlife, no one would touch you even if you were naked on the streets!” “Serena comes from a respectable family, unlike you. A commoner like you shouldn’t dream of marrying into our league!” Behind the three men, Serena Vance stood, tears streaming down her face, looking utterly wronged. “I treated you like a sister, and yet you slander me like this…” The crowd around them pointed and whispered, their judgment heavy in the air. After returning home, I’d planned to surprise my sister at her internship and scout the local antique market for future investments. But no sooner had I stepped into the firm’s showroom than I walked straight into this drama. My sister, Chloe Adams, was being openly ridiculed by the onlookers. Some even thrust their phones in her face, recording short videos. Her face was pale, and beneath her feet lay an ancient painting, covered in muddy footprints. The three men leading the charge were the prospective fiancés I’d chosen for her before I left the country: Brandon Hayes, Kyle Jensen, and Liam O’Connell. All of them were either rich or well-connected. Beside them, Serena Vance sobbed uncontrollably, pouring out her grievances. The three prospective fiancés launched into Chloe, one after another: “Chloe Adams, you better explain yourself!” “You secretly took a five-million-dollar appraisal fee, then swapped the original, and now you’re trying to deny it?” As he spoke, one of them pulled out a voice recorder. The next second, an edited recording played through the speakers. “The money’s in your account, the goods are yours.” It was a woman’s voice, and if you listened closely, it sounded exactly like Chloe’s. Then he pulled up a transfer screenshot, clearly showing “Five Million Dollars.” Instantly, the crowd erupted, whispering and loudly accusing my sister. “You pocketed the appraisal fee AND stole the painting? Talk about being greedy and shameless! How low can you get?” “Using such tactics in an appraisal firm is utterly despicable!” “Who knows? With all this evidence, how can she possibly deny it?!” Chloe clutched the hem of her shirt, biting her lip, her face a mask of humiliation. “I didn’t do it, this is slander…” Before she could finish, Serena burst into even louder sobs. “If I’m making this up, everyone is welcome to check! This authentic Tang Palace Lady painting is a genuine piece worth eight million dollars, and now it’s a fake! She was the only one who appraised it; isn’t it obvious she swapped it?!” The onlookers even raised their phones, live-streaming the scene. My eyes narrowed. I spotted a tiny, almost invisible mark on the edge of the painting. That was the Vance family’s signature forgery technique. Only an expert would notice it. It suddenly clicked. The girl standing there was Serena Vance, the daughter of our next-door neighbors. Years ago, my family owned a vast collection, which made our rivals jealous. They conspired against my parents, setting a trap that ultimately led to their deaths. To survive, I sold off all our family assets for a pittance and went into hiding overseas, living completely off the grid. Before leaving, I had to entrust my sister to the Vance family as their foster daughter, and arranged for the sons of three families we’d been close to for generations – the Hayes, Jensens, and O’Connells – to look after her. But judging by what I was seeing now, was this how they “looked after” my sister? I pulled out my phone and made a call. “Get the owner of this appraisal firm here, now!” “Tsk tsk tsk, you think just holding a magnifying glass and waving it around makes you an appraiser? You’re nothing but a charlatan!” Brandon Hayes sneered, grabbing the magnifying glass Chloe had used and tossing it into a trash can. Chloe gritted her teeth, tears welling in her eyes. Seeing this, Brandon seemed to think it wasn’t dramatic enough. He turned to the operating desk. “Since the painting can’t be appraised now, why don’t we look at something more interesting instead?” Before he finished speaking, he tapped a few keys on the computer, and a set of high-definition pictures popped up on the large screen. They were explicit photos of my sister in the shower! The scene immediately exploded into chaos, mixed with crude jokes and cheers. “Holy hell, this is way better than any old painting!” “If I could sleep with her for a night, that’d be incredible!” Brandon Hayes remained unruffled, speaking slowly. “Chloe Adams, since you like stealing things and playing risky games, you won’t mind if everyone else gets a thrill, right?” Someone whistled, others started taking pictures, and the situation quickly spiraled out of control. My fists clenched instinctively, my knuckles turning white. I remembered Brandon Hayes was the one Chloe liked most when they were kids. I turned and called my assistant, instructing him to immediately investigate what was going on. “Brandon Hayes, didn’t you say you’d marry me if we had a child? Are you trying to ruin me now?!” Chloe’s voice trembled as she asked. Brandon laughed wildly, a cruel, mocking glint in his eyes. “You actually believe what a guy says in bed? Who knows how many men you’ve slept with?” Chloe was trembling with rage. “You bastard! What exactly do you want?!” she screamed. “Simple. Transfer five million dollars back to the Vance family’s account, and publicly admit you swapped the painting and faked the appraisal. Do that, and I’ll take the photos down immediately. Otherwise, I’ll add another one every minute.”

“Wow, how exciting! Can’t wait!” “From what Chloe said, Brandon actually slept with her. Who does she think she is, trying to marry into the Hayes family?” “I heard Chloe is just a foster kid the Vances took in, but she actually dared to scheme against their real daughter?” “I heard she even tried to steal Serena’s boyfriends. Everyone knows those three guys are crazy about Serena.” But before the crowd could finish gossiping, my sister’s photos suddenly flooded the Antique Exchange SnapChat group. My phone buzzed relentlessly, flooded with vile, malicious gossip and rumors. “Brandon Hayes, have you lost your mind?!” Chloe’s eyes turned red. “Chloe Adams, if you want to stay in this industry, get on your knees and apologize to Serena right now, plus five million in compensation. Otherwise, I’ll post all these photos online! If you don’t care about the shame, keep refusing…” Chloe lowered her head, but then, after a long moment, she looked up, surprisingly calm. “Apologize? You’re dreaming. I have evidence that Serena was the one who swapped the painting. As for compensation, there’s no telling who will be paying whom.” “Ha, evidence? If you really had evidence, you would’ve shown it already. Why would your appraisal qualifications almost be revoked? Stop acting, Chloe Adams, stop deluding yourself.” The onlookers chimed in, enjoying the show. “Yeah, if you’ve got proof, spill it, don’t just run your mouth.” Chloe ignored them, only letting out a cold laugh. “Since we’re talking about compensation, Serena Vance, you’ve pulled off countless switcheroos like this before! If you had to pay for all of them, you’d be bankrupt a hundred times over!” The atmosphere went strangely silent for a few seconds. Brandon Hayes was the first to speak, his voice filled with sympathy and indignation. “Chloe Adams, you’re being far too aggressive! Serena is older than you, she’s your sister! How can you make such baseless accusations?!” But his words only fueled Chloe’s anger. She was trembling. “Brandon Hayes, I must have been blind to ever like a beast like you!” “Chloe, don’t misunderstand. I’m just being objective. If you can provide evidence, of course I’ll help you.” Chloe’s face went pale, and her voice trembled. “Brandon Hayes, considering our families have been close for generations, can’t you… not be so cruel?” “Of course…” He drawled playfully, then paused, changing his tone. “Besides the photos, I have videos too. Does everyone want to see them?” The crowd instantly erupted. “Yes! She’s got a great body!” At this moment, my assistant, Ryan, who had been investigating the authenticity of the photos, reported quietly: “Ms. Sterling, we checked the photos. No tampering, they’re original uploads.” “How did Chloe get these kinds of photos?” “Brandon Hayes is behind it. He didn’t just trick Miss Adams; I heard he’s brought dozens of young women to his bed. The guy’s a total playboy, he must have countless explicit photos.” Ryan’s face was grim as he cursed under his breath. I took a deep breath and asked, “Has the appraisal firm owner arrived?” “Still on the way.” “Add this: if he’s not here within ten minutes, I’ll smash everything in this place!” “Understood. I’ll relay that immediately.” The crowd continued to buzz, all eyes on Chloe Adams and Serena Vance, waiting for the next round of drama. “I can overlook the things you’ve stolen before, but this painting isn’t something your Vance family can touch. It was part of my family’s collection, and my sister will definitely come back to claim it.” The moment Chloe finished speaking, Brandon Hayes and the others burst into laughter. “You’re trying to make me die laughing! Your sister abandoned you and fled overseas years ago; by now, she’s probably dead in some ditch.” “Even if she’s alive, it’s been so long, and she hasn’t come looking for you. She’s probably too poor to survive, much less come back for you, hahaha.” Chloe’s eyes flashed with fierce light as she glared at them. “You don’t need to worry about whether my sister’s alive, but if you don’t hand over that painting, I’ll give the police evidence of all the things you’ve stolen before!” Serena Vance’s face instantly twisted into an ugly mask, but she still puffed out her neck and shrieked: “Chloe Adams, I haven’t done anything! You’re clearly slandering me now!” Just then, a portly, greasy middle-aged man pushed through the crowd and strode in. “What’s all this racket about? Disperse, now!”

“Mr. Davies, please, you’re the manager, tell us, isn’t it Chloe Adams who’s behind this artifact theft and swap?” Serena Vance called out to the man. Mr. Davies’ face immediately stiffened, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. “Mr. Davies, just tell the truth…” Serena Vance whispered something to him, and he finally nodded in agreement, speaking up: “Indeed… Chloe Adams did swap the ancient painting. There are major loopholes in the appraisal firm’s management, and we will handle this with the utmost severity!” At that moment, the crowd erupted in an uproar, low murmurs spreading like wildfire. “Mr. Davies, you’re talking nonsense! I absolutely did not…” Chloe’s voice was firm and clear. Serena Vance’s lips curled into a sneer as she slowly approached. “Chloe Adams, if you’re still going to be stubborn, why don’t we search you? Everyone here knows you’re the prime suspect!” As soon as she spoke, the three men beside her snickered. Kyle Jensen tutted. “Since Chloe Adams is a suspect, why don’t we search her publicly? Let’s see if she’s hiding the ancient painting on her person?” The surrounding crowd clamored, “Yeah! She claims she has evidence but can’t produce it. If she’s so brave, let us search her!” Chloe, furious, retorted, “Serena Vance, if you’re not convinced, let’s sign a gambling agreement. Whoever is proven to have swapped the artifact will pay the other ten million. Do you dare?” After she spoke, Brandon Hayes sneered, “Oh? You dare to gamble? So you’re that rich? Well, use that ten million to get your photos back! Otherwise, I’ll publish them one by one online and let the whole world see your explicit pictures.” A female colleague added fuel to the fire, “Manager, we have eyewitnesses and physical evidence right here. You must stand up for Serena!” Mr. Davies’ face was ashen. After hesitating for half a minute, he said coldly, “Chloe Adams, the evidence is strongly against you now. If you admit it, you might get a lighter sentence.” Suddenly, all eyes fell on my sister. Some people were already eager to approach her. Chloe’s face was pale, and she retreated two steps. “You… don’t come any closer!” Serena Vance sharply interjected from the side: “Chloe Adams, I saw you sneaking around last night. If you’re innocent, are you willing to let an expert publicly search your clothes?” Kyle Jensen also spoke up for her, “How about this, you strip down and let us inspect you. If you’re innocent in the end, we’ll call it even. But if it’s confirmed you stole something, all your assets will belong to me.” Chloe scoffed, a look of disdain on her face. “Serena Vance, since we’re making a bet, let’s be clear upfront. All my assets as your stake is fine, but you should reciprocate fairly. Your total shares in the Vance Group are only 5%, which probably isn’t enough, is it?”

Brandon Hayes’ lips curved into a smile. “My three art galleries operate with top museums across multiple countries. Their market value alone leaves you in the dust.” Kyle Jensen and Liam O’Connell quickly chimed in. “My Jensen family’s malls are also on the line.” “And my O’Connell family’s villas as well!” Brandon Hayes proudly spoke again, “Don’t forget, Chloe Adams, I still have those photos of you. If I win today, this wager, at the very least, needs to double.” The crowd whispered amongst themselves, full of taunts and eager anticipation for the show. Serena Vance sneered, bending down close to Chloe Adams’ ear, whispering provocatively, “What, Chloe Adams, chicken out? If you admit you’re incapable now, it’s not too late. Be obedient, sign the voluntary transfer agreement, then kneel and kowtow three times to me, and today’s matter will be over. Maybe you can even keep some dignity.” My sister clenched her fists, her nails digging hard into her palms. A moment later, she pulled out a red file and let out a cold laugh. “One last chance. Do you still want to bet?” Brandon Hayes stretched his neck, staring intently at the file. The surrounding whispers suddenly erupted: “Isn’t that… a Judicial Appraisal Center’s evidence collection order?!” “Seriously? How does Chloe Adams have that kind of authority?” Someone questioned. “She’s probably just trying to scare people with a fake document, even resorting to this?” Serena Vance chuckled without humor. “Don’t you dare pretend you have any authority with some flimsy piece of paper. What can a crumpled piece of paper prove?” With that, she raised her hand and slapped my sister across the face. Chloe stumbled and fell to the ground. I quickly rushed forward to help her up. Chloe recognized me and was about to call me “sister,” but I stopped her with a glance. Serena Vance, however, laughed mockingly from behind me. “Oh! Look who it is! Isn’t this Chloe Adams’ useless sister who’s been fooling around somewhere unknown?” My eyes coldly swept over them. I sneered, “You’ve got a lot of nerve! Who gave you the courage to hit someone?” The three men stood protectively in front of Serena Vance. Liam O’Connell scoffed, “Where did this psycho come from? Here to cause trouble, are we? I’ll teach you a lesson!” Before he could make a move, Mr. Jenkins, the appraisal firm owner, finally arrived, albeit belatedly. “Ms. Sterling, my apologies, my apologies. I just finished a meeting, I’m late. What brings you here?” When Mr. Jenkins addressed me by my name, a wave of shock rippled through the onlookers. I didn’t give him a pleasant look. I asked coolly, “Mr. Jenkins, your firm certainly has a knack for chaos these days. I’m truly impressed.” “I’m truly sorry to have made you witness this!” Mr. Jenkins said, squeezing through the crowd and loudly signaling, “That’s enough gawking, everyone, disperse! We have an important guest today, don’t embarrass the company!” He spotted Mr. Davies not far away and frowned. “Why are you still standing there watching the show? Shouldn’t you be maintaining order?” Mr. Davies was momentarily speechless. “I was just handling a conflict between colleagues. This Chloe Adams…” “Shut up!” Mr. Jenkins’ face darkened. “Keep meddling, and I’ll fire you on the spot, believe me?!” Chloe, however, seized the opportunity and loudly declared: “Mr. Jenkins, Serena Vance swapped a client’s original with a fake! You must uphold justice today!” Mr. Jenkins’ brows furrowed, a difficult expression on his face. “Chloe, I’ll resolve this for you, but not now. We have important guests. Why don’t you go back for now?” “Mr. Jenkins, is this how you handle things?” Mr. Jenkins quickly explained, “They’re making a mess here, I’ll clear them out immediately.” I said coldly: “Mr. Jenkins, given the chaos here today, I can’t help but notice someone’s crying injustice. And it just so happens everyone is here. Why don’t you clear her name right now?” Brandon Hayes quickly interjected: “Chloe Adams, don’t think you can scare people with a fake investigation order. If you don’t have the guts, just admit defeat early! Apologize to Serena and clear her name!” Mr. Jenkins finally understood the full story and said sternly, “Chloe Adams, quickly return the real painting to the client, don’t delay things and bring bad publicity to our company.” My face instantly darkened. “Mr. Jenkins, since so many people are here, why don’t we continue the wager? A clear win or loss would serve to set an example and clean up this mess.” The onlookers, seeing the tension escalate, grew excited and chanted: “Boss, judge it fairly! We want to see what happens next!” Mr. Jenkins, seeing everyone’s interest growing, and at my insistence, could only give a helpless, wry smile. “Since Ms. Sterling has spoken, this matter will proceed. I will serve as the impartial arbiter.” I stepped forward, helped my sister up, and embraced her. “Who’s that new woman? Mr. Jenkins is practically bowing to her.” “Never seen her before. Probably some company bigwig. But… I saw her and Chloe Adams exchanging glances earlier, like they know each other?” Mr. Jenkins adjusted his glasses, a hint of impatience in his voice.

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My husband, Daniel, seems to be in love. He’s always grinning foolishly at his phone, showering more often, changing outfits multiple times before going out, and he even changed our profile pictures to matching couple’s avatars without asking. Whenever I used to see these kinds of social media posts, I always thought they were just relatable jokes. That is, until the eve of our fifth wedding anniversary. My usually serious and stiff husband sent me a message: “Company dinner tonight, darling. Will my Queen grace us with her presence?” Daniel sounded so sweet. He even used a cute emoji I’d never seen him use before. My heart instantly clenched, a cold chill spreading through me. I’d seen that animated character on the emoji before. It was the profile picture of the new intern at his company. It wasn’t just “seems like.” In the tenth year of our love, my husband was in love—with someone else. “Where did you get such a cute emoji?” The “typing…” bubble stayed on for a long time before Daniel replied: “Saved it from a group chat.” Before I could ask more questions, Daniel’s profile picture flickered, changing to a Q-version of the same animated character. It was a matching couple’s avatar. “Honey, isn’t my new profile picture cute?” “It’s the style you asked me to change to before! You should use this one.” He sent me a photo, a really cute animated character. It looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen it. Instinctively, I opened the company’s main SnapChat group chat to check. Sure enough, there was an identical profile picture. Chloe Hayes. I remembered her. The new intern at the company, a sweet-smiling young girl. My heart dropped. It felt like my heart skipped a beat, and a cold dread spread from my limbs, chilling me to the bone. Tears welled up instantly, overflowing and blurring my vision as I looked at the yellowing wedding photo on the wall. I decided to confirm it myself. With trembling hands, I replied: “Yes, I’ll be there for the dinner tonight.” That evening, when Daniel drove up to pick me, Chloe, just an intern, was sitting in the passenger seat. The back seats were occupied by some of the closer management staff. Chloe, quite thoughtfully, got out to offer me the passenger seat. Daniel leaned over and explained, “Chloe gets carsick, and ride-shares often have weird smells. So I just had her ride with me.” “My Queen, please get in.” I managed a strained smile, greeted everyone, and got into the passenger seat. Low murmurs of chatter came from the back. Chloe remained quiet, watching Daniel as he drove through the rearview mirror. I decided to test him. While we were waiting at a red light, I deliberately reached out and took Daniel’s hand, which was resting on the gear stick. From the back, flirty cheers immediately erupted: “Whoa, the boss and his wife are so sweet together!” But Daniel pulled his hand back as if he’d been shocked. He gave me a forced, awkward smile, trying to cover it up as he explained, “Honey, I’m driving. Safety first.” I subtly turned my face away, responding flatly, “I was just wondering why you suddenly stopped wearing your wedding ring.” Daniel gave a couple of dry laughs: “I’ve gained a little happy weight recently; you must be cooking too well, my love.” “This ring is just a bit tight.” “It’s our fifth anniversary soon anyway. We can go pick out a new set of matching rings.” I said nothing, just nodded. I played along, pretending we were a loving, happy couple. Through the rearview mirror, I saw Chloe’s red-rimmed eyes in the back. Her fingers were clenched so hard they were bloodless; she must have been in a lot of pain, holding it in. I glanced sideways and saw Daniel secretly watching her, his gaze filled with warmth, guilt, and deep reassurance. They stared deeply into each other’s eyes through the mirror. It wasn’t until the honking of the cars behind us reminded him that the light had changed that Daniel snapped out of it and started driving again. I witnessed it all, my heart feeling crushed under a heavy rock, a suffocating pain. Unable to bear it, I rolled down the window for some air. After a long moment of thought, I finally opened my lawyer friend’s contact on my phone and typed out a message: “Taking cases?” “I’m divorcing Daniel Miller.”

It was a celebration dinner, and the atmosphere was relaxed. Daniel stood on stage, glass in hand, looking vibrant and confident as he announced the mid-year bonuses. At the table, Chloe rested her chin in her hand, her eyes shining as she watched him. Her gaze was full of girlish adoration. Daniel chatted casually with the employees below, but his gaze always landed on her. After a few rounds of drinks, Chloe, who couldn’t hold her liquor, quietly left the table. Daniel noticed. He leaned in, his warm breath tickling my ear, and said: “Reporting in!” “Honey, I need to use the restroom.” I agreed. I nodded, but stealthily followed him, watching him turn into the fire escape stairwell, which was in the opposite direction from the restrooms. Chloe’s suppressed sobs drifted into the air, soft and pitiful. Daniel sat beside her, his voice tender, asking, “Why are you crying?” Chloe looked up, her eyes red, fixing on him: “From our college days to your wedding day, you and Amelia are so deeply in love. I envy her so much.” “My internship ends soon, and I’ll have to take on projects independently. I won’t be able to just follow you around anymore. I’ll make sure to keep my feelings in check from now on, but I really can’t bear to leave you.” “Please, just one last thing. Can you… kiss me?” The air seemed to freeze in that instant. Daniel moved. But he didn’t kiss her. Instead, he gave Chloe a gentle hug. His voice turned hoarse, choked with emotion: “I’m sorry, we met too late. I’m already married, I…” Daniel didn’t finish his sentence. Chloe cupped his face and pressed a deep kiss onto his forehead. Daniel froze. But he didn’t push her away; instead, he closed his eyes. I heard the sound of my own heart breaking. It echoed in the silent fire escape, making no sound at all. They left, one after the other. I looked at my phone screen, where the recording button was still lit, and finally pressed stop. When I returned, Daniel and Chloe were already seated. The celebration dinner was pretty much winding down. Employees were gathering in small groups, figuring out who lived near whom and how they’d get home. Daniel, whom I was helping to support, suddenly stopped, as if remembering something, and turned around. He held up his phone to everyone: “It’s getting late. The guys need to make sure all the ladies get home safely.” “Once you’re home, remember to check in on the group chat!” Everyone chorused, “Okay!” Daniel, swaying as if very drunk, patted Chloe’s shoulder. “Chloe, I remember you get carsick. Why don’t you ride with us?” Chloe hesitated, looking at me. She seemed to be waiting for me to say something. “Come with us,” I said. “You’ve had quite a bit to drink too. I’ll drop you off first.” The ride was silent. Daniel, usually chatty when he drank, was unusually quiet, pretending to nap with his eyes closed in the passenger seat. Chloe sat quietly in the back. He knew that if he talked to me, Chloe would be upset. Only when Chloe got out of the car did Daniel snap awake. He rolled down the window, waved goodbye to her, and watched her go inside. Even after I started the car, he kept looking in the rearview mirror until Chloe’s figure disappeared. Then he finally looked at me and said: “Honey, this Sunday is our tenth wedding anniversary.” “Let’s go buy new rings then, okay?” I chuckled softly, not responding directly. I just gently pushed his head, making him sit up straight. When we got home, Daniel’s alcohol had fully hit, and he was disoriented. I put him in the guest bedroom. Having seen his infidelity, I just felt dirty thinking about sharing a bed with him again. As I was about to close the door and leave, his phone, which was on the bedside table, lit up. A familiar profile picture popped up, sending a message: “Daniel, are you asleep?”

I walked out with Daniel’s phone. He had no defenses against me. I easily unlocked his phone, but I didn’t reply to Chloe’s message. I just scrolled up, As if tracing back their story. The serious, rigid boss meets the innocent, lively intern, causing trouble yet finding himself intrigued and a little smitten by her antics. They both knew what was happening, but preferred to enjoy the unspoken flirtation, letting themselves fall deeper. I tried to steady my breathing. I pressed the record button again, capturing the evidence of my husband’s infidelity. I opened his photo gallery. It was almost entirely filled with pictures of Chloe. But no pictures of them together. They were all secretly taken by Daniel. Chloe working, Chloe talking to colleagues, Chloe napping, Chloe slacking off. From initially not looking at the camera at all, to later shyly acknowledging it, the last few pictures showed Chloe laughing freely, facing the lens. Just as I finished recording, Another message popped up on SnapChat. “Daniel, it’s been ten years. Don’t do anything to hurt Amelia. Her face tonight was clearly off.” The sender was Ben. One of the company’s OGs. When the company first started, there were only three of us. Me, Ben, and Daniel. Later, as the company grew and staff increased, I gradually returned to focusing on our family. It was only when doing financial reports that I remembered I still held a nominal title as CFO. Daniel and Ben were super close. From the moment Daniel first realized his unusual feelings, they’d talked about it. Bits and pieces, detailing Daniel’s slow slide into infidelity. “It’s been ten years, I haven’t felt love for Amelia for ages. Every time I hold her hand, it’s like I’m holding my own hand. When I touch her body, it feels like touching my own. This isn’t love anymore.” “Yes, I know Amelia gave up her career to take care of my mom back then. But now we have nothing in common. The moment she starts talking about groceries and bills, I get annoyed.” “Ben, I hadn’t felt that rush, that flutter in my chest, in ages. Meeting her, I feel like I’m in love.” “She’s so kind, so fragile. I genuinely want to take care of her for the rest of my life, but I’m already married. I know I shouldn’t betray Amelia, but I can’t control my feelings.” … In the end, there was only one ridiculous question left: “Does emotional cheating count as cheating?” Ben didn’t reply. It was Daniel’s own self-doubt. “Forget it. It’s been ten years. No more drama.” That night, Daniel snored loudly enough to shake the house in the guest bedroom, probably living out his wish to be with Chloe in his dreams. In the master bedroom, I cried all night, watching every detail of his betrayal unfold. It wasn’t until dawn that I finally exhaled a sigh: “Disgusting.” Ten years of love, and all that was left for me in the end was a churning, overwhelming sense of disgust. My phone vibrated. It was my lawyer. “Amelia, the agreement is drafted. When do you plan to confront Daniel?” From outside, Daniel’s voice rang out: “Honey, I’m up. You should get ready too.” “Let’s go buy new rings today, tomorrow’s our fifth wedding anniversary. We should really celebrate!” I hummed in response. I looked down and replied to my lawyer: “I want to get away for a bit. For our anniversary tomorrow, please meet Daniel in my place.” “Confront him, talk about the divorce.”

Soon after I left, a heavy rain started. The summer thunderstorm was so intense it caused power outages, even cutting off electricity at the mall. They managed to stay open using their own generators. The mall was very close to the apartment complex Chloe rented. Daniel seemed very anxious. He said he was going to the restroom, but he kept making call after call. I waited for him by the restroom door. He came out sweating profusely and told me: “The company seems to have lost power due to the storm, and there’s an issue with the servers. I need to get back there immediately.” He handed me his bank card, reassuring me: “Honey, buy whatever you like. Anything is fine with me.” Daniel left in a hurry, not even giving me a chance to ask questions. I looked down at my phone screen. I had just sent a message to Ben: “Are you on duty today? There’s a power issue in the South Side area. How’s the company?” He replied: “We have generators. Everything’s fine, no problems at all. Don’t worry, Amelia.” I didn’t buy any rings. My heart was terrifyingly calm, as if I had long been prepared to sever the last thread of attachment to those ten years of our relationship. After a long time trying to hail a cab, I ended up walking home in the rain. I pulled out cardboard boxes and started packing my things. It wasn’t until dusk that Daniel finally called me: “Amelia, the company situation here is a bit tricky. I won’t be coming home tonight; I’ll stay here to handle it.” “Tomorrow! Tomorrow, I promise I’ll spend our anniversary properly with you.” Before I could say anything, Daniel hung up, as if there was something he was in an urgent rush to do. It seemed even the algorithms disapproved of Daniel’s clumsy lies. When I opened Ins, I accidentally stumbled upon Chloe’s account. I recognized the hand in the photo instantly as Daniel’s. There was a scar on his middle finger knuckle, and a faint white mark on his ring finger where his wedding ring used to be. But with just a hand, there might still be room for self-deception. However, another photo, a profile shot of Daniel shirtless, left me with no way to lie to myself. Chloe’s caption was incredibly sweet: **[He appeared when I needed him most.]** I dialed Daniel’s number. It rang for a long time before he picked up, his tone impatient: “Amelia, what is it? I’m really busy right now.” I glanced at the lightning and thunder outside and lied: “I’m at the mall, and I can’t get a cab.” “Can you come pick me up? I’ll get sick if I stay in the rain in this weather.” There was a moment of silence on his end. He still refused, even with a hint of blame: “I really have something going on at the company. Just go home, take a shower, and you’ll be fine.” “Don’t make a big deal out of nothing.” “I have to go, I’m hanging up.” Beep, beep, beep. I opened my mouth, but only a dial tone met me. An hour later, Chloe updated her Ins again: **[I have him, he has me.]** The picture was a selfie of her and Daniel. They were in a bed, and Daniel’s eyes were closed, asleep. I glanced at it, and the heartbreak I felt was now just a dull, aching numbness. I quietly screen-recorded it as evidence of Daniel’s infidelity, not a single tear falling. I paid extra to arrange a moving company to ship my belongings. The house was empty now. Of our things, only the large, yellowing wedding photo remained on the wall. It was an eyesore and a painful reminder. I didn’t take it. With a simple carry-on bag, I arrived at the train station. I hadn’t decided where to go, so I just glanced at the ticket display. Whichever train was boarding earliest, I’d take that one, aimlessly. “Ma’am, the final destination for this train is Brighton. How many tickets?” “One.” The next morning, I woke up in a B&B in Brighton. As I was feeding seagulls by the lake, Daniel sent me a message: **[Good morning, Honey. Happy fifth wedding anniversary!]** I didn’t reply. Midday arrived. Daniel seemed to realize something was wrong and sent a few more messages: **[Honey, are you mad because I didn’t pick you up yesterday?]** **[The company really did have an emergency. You’re not the type to hold a grudge over something like this. Come on, I’ve booked the best table at the lakeside restaurant. Twelve o’clock sharp, to celebrate our anniversary!]** **[Honey, don’t be mad. I love my wife the most!]** I still didn’t reply. It was already past one o’clock. Daniel had clearly run out of patience: **[?]** **[Are you seriously mad? There’s no need for this. All these years of our relationship, just because I didn’t pick you up? ]** **[Where are you? I’ll come find you. Why is your temper getting worse and worse lately?]** Just as Daniel called me, Mr. Davis, my lawyer, arrived. He walked straight up to Daniel: “Mr. Miller, I presume?” “I’m Mr. Davis, a lawyer. Ms. Amelia Wei has retained me to discuss divorce proceedings with you.” Daniel frowned, looking utterly bewildered: “Divorce? What nonsense are you talking about?” “Where is she? She’s not replying to messages, not answering calls.” After a few rings, I answered the phone. Daniel immediately put it on speaker, his tone hostile as he interrogated me: “Amelia Wei, what exactly do you mean by this?!” “Just because I didn’t pick you up yesterday, you want a divorce? How many times have I told you, the company servers had issues! It wasn’t that I didn’t want to pick you up, I simply couldn’t leave. ” “Today is our wedding anniversary. Do you really have to blow things out of proportion like this and make such a scene?” His tone was aggressive. But perhaps it was because I had completely given up hope, I felt extraordinarily calm in comparison. I no longer tried to play along. Instead, I completely ripped off the band-aid, speaking without mercy: “Daniel Miller, were the company servers set up on Chloe Hayes’s bed?” “Was cheating on your wife stimulating?”

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Our dream home, months in the making, was finally ready. Owen, completely ignoring my glare, insisted on letting his drunken childhood best friend stay the night. His excuse? She had nowhere else to go. He couldn’t just leave her on the street. The moment his best friend, Harper, sprawled across *our* wedding bed, I told him the wedding was off. “Clara, can you stop overreacting for once?” “Are you really going to cancel the wedding?” I looked at him. “Yes, I am. Cancel it.” “There’s no point in us lying to ourselves anymore. This is over.” I stood at the bedroom doorway, my fingers digging into the doorframe, knuckles white. Owen’s childhood best friend was lying on the wedding bed I had carefully chosen. She was wearing a dark blue silk pajama set, the one I’d bought for our honeymoon. Our initials were even embroidered on the cuffs. And now, it hung loosely on another woman’s body. Owen stood beside the bed, his hair a mess, his pajama collar askew, like he’d just been… tangled with. “What’s with that face? Harper drank too much last night, she had nowhere to go. I couldn’t just leave her on the street, could I?” I didn’t speak, my gaze shifting from his face to the bed. Harper looked like she’d just woken up, rubbing her forehead as she sat up. Her voice dripped with fake apology: “Clara, I’m so sorry, I totally blacked out last night… Did I do anything out of line?” Her mouth mumbled apologies, but her eyes flicked past me to Owen, a smirk playing on her lips, a clear hint of triumph. I stared at her, my voice chillingly cold. “Out of line? Like lying on my wedding bed, wearing my bridal pajamas?” Owen’s face darkened, and he cut me off. “She just borrowed them! Do you have to be so dramatic?” His voice rose, laced with sharp anger. “We’ve been planning this wedding for half a year, and you’re going to cancel it over something so small?” I didn’t rush to argue. Instead, I pulled out my phone from my pocket, swiped a few times on the screen, and handed it to him. “These are your SnapChat messages from the past three months.” My voice was ice-cold, a quiet menace beneath the surface. “You went out seventeen times in total. Every single time, the excuse was ‘helping Harper with her relationship problems.’” Owen’s face twitched, but he quickly jutted out his chin. “So what? She got dumped. As her best friend, am I not allowed to comfort her?” “And you had to stay out all night, every single time?” I stared him down. “Last Friday, I left work early. I saw her in your car, and your hand was on her *thigh*.” A flicker of panic crossed Owen’s eyes. “That was an accident! I just bumped her!” “An accident?” A humorless laugh escaped me. “Then why did you immediately drive away, looking so nervous in your rearview mirror?” Owen’s breath hitched, and his fingers unconsciously tightened on the hem of his pajamas. Harper conveniently cut in, her voice dripping with feigned distress. “Clara, you’ve really misunderstood. Owen and I have been friends for over twenty years, how could we ever…” “Twenty years?” I cut her off, my gaze sharp. “But the way you look at him, it’s never been like a friend.” Harper chose that moment to throw off the covers and get out of bed. The hem of the dark blue silk pajamas brushed the sheets, leaving a fresh wrinkle. She stood barefoot on the floor, her back deliberately straightened, a hidden boast in her posture. “Clara, please don’t be mad. I’ll leave right away. I won’t bother you two anymore.” “Stop.” I stepped aside, blocking the doorway, my face icy. “Take off the pajamas.” Owen shrieked. “Clara! Are you crazy? What do you expect her to wear if she takes them off?!” “That’s her problem.” I stared directly into Harper’s eyes. “My things, once tainted, are fit for the trash. They’re definitely not for someone else’s body.” Harper’s face instantly flushed a mottled red. Her clenched fingers went white, and she gasped for air, but she didn’t dare meet my gaze. Owen suddenly lunged, grabbing my shoulders, his nails digging into my skin. “What do you want? Are you really going to burn everything down over a pair of pajamas?”

“Ha…” I let out a cold laugh, shrugged him off, and walked out of the room. The early autumn night wind carried a chill. I stood under a streetlamp, slowly, almost deliberately, pulling my wind-blown collar tighter. My fingertips traced the cold fabric, each movement slow and deliberate, as if I was fighting with myself. Harper reeked of Owen’s cologne. Our wedding bed was a mess because of them, and he was still defending her. “Clara!” The sound of his dress shoes rapidly approached. I turned back to see Owen standing a few steps away. He stood there in the cold wind, his shoulders trembling slightly, his chest heaving, as if he’d just run a long distance. “Let’s talk,” his voice softened. I let out a long breath, saying nothing. He walked closer, his hand suddenly gripping my arm tightly, as if afraid I’d shake him off. “There’s really nothing going on between Harper and me,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “She was just drunk. I couldn’t just leave her…” “Drunk?” I scoffed. “So drunk she can lie on our wedding bed? So drunk she can make you stay out all night? So drunk she can—” I yanked my arm away, pressing my thumb hard into the skin on his inner wrist—there was a faint bruise there, like someone had gripped him tightly. His eyes flickered, and he instinctively tried to pull his hand back, but I held firm. “Was this an ‘accident’ too?” His face shifted, and then he pulled away, his voice suddenly rough. “Are you ever going to let this go?!” He took a deep breath, as if trying to keep calm. “You’re going to cancel our wedding just because of a misunderstanding? We’ve been together for three years. Do you really trust me so little? Besides, she’s already gone home!” “Misunderstanding?” I stared into his eyes. “Alright, prove it to me.” “Block Harper now. Delete all her contacts. Don’t see her again.” His expression froze. “No way,” he blurted out almost instantly. “She’s my most important friend. We’ve known each other for twenty years. You want me to just cut her off?” “Most important friend?” I forced a smile. “More important than your fiancée?” He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, his phone suddenly rang. He glanced down at the screen, and his face instantly changed—it was Harper. “Hello? Harper? What’s wrong?” He answered the phone, his worry barely hidden. Harper’s faint, dramatically pained groans trickled through the phone. “Owen… I fell… My head’s spinning…” “Don’t move! I’m coming right now!” He hung up, turning to leave. I grabbed him. “Owen.” My voice was as cold as ice. “If you go to her today, we are completely over.” He stopped, turning back to look at me, his eyes filled with struggle. Three seconds. Five seconds. “I’m sorry…” he finally murmured, then added, “I’ll be right back.” He ran toward the road without a backward glance, hailing a taxi. The moment the car door closed, I pulled out my phone and dialed the wedding planning company. “Hello, Mr. Thompson? Yes, it’s Clara Ruan.” I stared at the disappearing taxi, my voice terrifyingly calm. “Cancel all wedding arrangements. I’ll still pay the full fee.” The night wind swirled fallen leaves around my feet. I stood under the streetlamp, watching my shadow stretch long, long, across the pavement.

Owen never came back after he left. It wasn’t until 2 AM that I saw Harper’s Ins story. In the photo, she was half-undressed, curled up in a man’s arms. A shadow obscured half the man’s face, but his build was all too familiar. That Ins story was like a dull blade, slowly slicing through my nerves. I gripped my phone tightly, my fingers trembling. Just then, my company called, saying there was an urgent project requiring me to travel abroad for a week. I agreed with almost no hesitation. Getting away from here, even temporarily, was better than staring at an empty room, lost in my own thoughts. Before boarding, my phone vibrated. An audio file from an unknown number. I tapped it. The next second, Harper’s voice spilled from the receiver. Moans, mixed with a man’s low gasps. I slammed my screen off, but those sounds had already taken root in my mind. I switched off my phone for the flight. When the plane landed, I turned it back on. Dozens of missed calls popped up on the screen, all from Owen. I scoffed, ignoring them. But a moment later, his call came through again. “Why did you leave without saying anything?” His voice was accusatory, with a hint of an emotion I couldn’t quite place. “I thought you already made that clear?” My voice was calm. “Clear about what?” He paused for a second. “Just because I went to Harper?” “Didn’t you two have fun? Do you even have time to think about me?” I sneered. “Clara, you’ve misunderstood. She was already drunk, and I was worried something would happen to her.” “I’m her best friend, I couldn’t just leave her!” Owen was still trying to explain on the phone. “Good enough to roll around in bed together? Owen, we’re done.” I hung up the phone, then forwarded that audio file to him. For the next few minutes, my phone vibrated nonstop. **[It’s not what you think!]** **[Let me explain!]** **[That audio is fake! Someone’s trying to frame me!]** I didn’t reply to a single one. Soon enough, his tone changed. **[Fine. If you don’t trust me, then there’s nothing more to say.]** **[Hope you don’t regret this!]** I blocked him directly. A week later, I dragged my suitcase back home. The moment I inserted the key into the lock, I heard a rustling sound from inside, followed by low laughter. I pushed the door open. In the living room, clothes were scattered everywhere. On the sofa, Harper was wrapped around Owen, both of them disheveled, her lipstick smeared on his collarbone. The air solidified. Owen jerked upright, his face pale. “You… you’re back?” I stood in the doorway and slowly smiled. “Looks like I’m back at just the right time.” Harper was wearing my bathrobe, my slippers on her feet, and holding my whiskey glass. The amber liquid swirled in the light. She grinned at me, a deliberate display of triumph.

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I chased Elias Vance for four long years, utterly devoid of shame. He was utterly exasperated by me. Under his immense pressure, my family, cowering in fear, shipped me off overseas. He said, “Whatever it takes, make her stop bothering me!” “Otherwise, don’t expect any mercy from me.” Drugs, hypnosis, electroshock therapy… These methods were incredibly effective. I forgot what it felt like to love him. Even my memories of him became blurry, indistinct. He finally relented, allowing me to return home. I instinctively avoided any place where he might appear. My mother had warned me that I couldn’t afford to cross that breathtakingly handsome man. Seeing him kiss Seraphina, my sister, I secretly pulled out my phone to snap a picture. His eyes were predatory and icy. Terrified, I shrank into the corner, my words caught in my throat: “I’m sorry, I just thought you two looked so perfect together, like something out of a romance movie…” I don’t know why. The man who usually showed no emotion, his gaze trembled violently. **1** Ever since I came back from overseas, my mind has felt… fuzzy. Most of my day was spent sleeping. I felt like I might be sick. Mom comforted me, saying there was nothing to worry about. “You’ve always been a little sleepyhead, unlike your sister who’s so disciplined.” “It’s fine. Everyone’s constitution is different. If you’re tired, go to sleep.” I poured myself a large cup of black coffee, hoping to perk up. But it had no effect. I tapped my temples, frustrated, when the front door chimed. The butler announced, “Miss Seraphina has brought Mr. Vance home.” My parents’ eyes instantly lit up with joy. Dad eagerly rushed out to greet them. Mom was about to follow, then suddenly remembered something. She looked at me apologetically: “Daisy, you…” I nodded understandingly: “I know, Mr. Vance isn’t fond of me.” “Seraphina’s engagement is important. I’ll go upstairs now; it’s a good time for me to catch some more sleep anyway.” Mom looked at my yawning face with a hint of relief. I had only taken a few steps when I suddenly remembered I hadn’t taken my coffee cup. I wanted to try another cup later. The moment I turned, I inadvertently met a cold, icy gaze. It was almost a primal instinct. I forgot about the coffee cup and bolted, as if delaying for even a second would cost me my life. I didn’t stop until I reached my room and locked the door. I even shoved a table against the door from the inside. Only then did the knot in my stomach finally loosen. I couldn’t explain why, but whenever I saw Elias Vance, a powerful emotion surged through me: fear. Mom said it was because Elias was a born leader, someone who naturally makes anyone around him feel small. “Especially you, a natural pushover.” Mom told me not to appear in front of Mr. Vance. “Mr. Vance, he… he doesn’t like people who look sweet but are actually ditzy.” “His eyes only linger on accomplished girls like your sister.” “What caliber is the Vance family? Marrying into them would set us up for generations, wouldn’t it?” “Daisy, you need to be sensible.” I was very sensible. So, every time Elias came to the house, I actively avoided him. Mom was always relieved by this, sometimes stroking my head. It was the greatest reward for me, and I cherished it. That’s why I never dared to tell Mom. Even if she didn’t say it, I would still actively avoid Elias Vance. His presence was just too overwhelming. I felt so uneasy. So suffocated. It was like someone was squeezing my heart. And there was this strange, aching bitterness. Downstairs, laughter and chatter echoed. Amidst that joyous noise, I drifted off into a hazy sleep. **2** When I woke up again, the sky had darkened. It was already evening. The mansion was quiet. Elias Vance must have left. My stomach rumbled. I pushed open my door, wearing a white, princess-style nightgown, and padded barefoot downstairs looking for food. The cold floor made my fuzzy brain feel a tiny bit clearer. I was standing by the counter, heating some bread slices. Suddenly, the study door opened. Elias Vance, dressed in a sharp suit, walked out. Under the warm, yellow glow of the lights, his silhouette was even sharper, his body perfectly straight. His features were chiseled, like a god who held the power of life and death. But he was so cold. His entire demeanor was cold, his eyes were cold. Even the lead-grey cufflinks on his suit gleamed with a chilling light. Across the long living room, his gaze fell dispassionately on me. His thin lips were pressed into a grim line. His presence was utterly intimidating. Almost immediately. I snapped back to reality. Clutching my head, I crouched under the dining table. I scrambled to hide, only making my presence more obvious. Seraphina’s light steps skipped down the stairs. She practically flew into Elias’s arms, clinging to his arm and swaying it playfully. “Are you really leaving already? You haven’t even seen my new publicity photos, and you haven’t eaten dinner yet! Please stay?” Seraphina usually carried herself with a cool, distant air. But now, she was all girlish charm, her voice a sweet, lilting sound. Like a beautiful bird, with dazzling plumage and a melodious song. Elias Vance didn’t speak. He looked coldly at me, cowering under the table. Seraphina’s smile faltered. She bit her lip and said, “If you’re busy, you can see them another time. Let’s go, I’ll walk you out.” Elias Vance stood still. His oppressive presence was so heavy, as if he hadn’t heard Seraphina speaking at all. Seraphina opened her mouth but dared not speak. After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice low and deep: “Alright, I’ll eat dinner before I leave.” Dad and Seraphina’s faces simultaneously showed expressions of surprise and disbelief. Elias’s lips curved faintly: “What are you afraid of? She’s forgotten everything, hasn’t she?” Elias Vance strode his long legs to the dining table and crouched down. His tailored suit pants highlighted the strong lines of his legs. “Daisy, do you still recognize me?” I timidly raised my eyes, then lowered them again, not daring to meet his gaze. I slowly nodded. But my fingertips and toes suddenly felt like they were being pricked with needles. It was like an automatic, panic response. I screamed. Clamping my eyes shut. Shaking my head frantically. “No! I don’t! Don’t hurt me! I don’t know you!” **3** At the dinner table, the atmosphere was bizarre. My parents tried desperately to liven things up. But Elias Vance simply ate in silence, his posture noble and graceful. He showed no intention of speaking, making my parents’ enthusiasm incredibly awkward. Seraphina’s face was dark, and she didn’t say a word. I didn’t dare to pick up dishes, only eating small bites of rice. Finally, the meal was over, and both my parents seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Watching Elias Vance’s departing figure, I suddenly remembered something and called out to him: “Mr. Vance, wait a minute.” Everyone looked at me in surprise. Including Elias Vance. His brows slightly furrowed, clearly impatient. “Just for a second. Please?” I held up my finger, indicating a tiny distance. With that, I dashed upstairs, and soon ran back down clutching a metal box. All eyes were locked on me. I opened the lid of the metal box and asked, “Mr. Vance, is this yours?” On top of the box were a dozen or so ID photos. Some were small, some were larger. You could tell they hadn’t been obtained through official channels. Some had embossed stamps, others had dried glue on the back. Clearly, they’d been peeled off from various places. The Elias Vance in the photos was younger than now, with a hint of youthful innocence in his eyes, but his features were already strikingly superior. Besides the ID photos, there were all sorts of random things: candy wrappers, cigarette packs, used pen refills, crumpled test papers, and so on. Elias Vance looked at me with piercing eyes. I bit my lip before I dared to continue: “I found it in a corner of my wardrobe. I don’t know who put it there. But I recognized your photos, so it must be yours, right?” Elias Vance’s gaze shifted slightly, as if with a hint of inquiry. His stare made me feel small. My shoulders slumped. He finally spoke: “It’s not mine. Throw it away.” “Oh, okay.” I casually tossed the box into the nearby trash can and started to head upstairs. Elias Vance’s eyes suddenly held a dangerous glint. “Daisy, are you doing this on purpose?” he called out to me. I was confused: “What?” He seemed to see through everything, his eyes mocking as he scoffed. “Nothing. You’re a good actress. But don’t bother next time. I’m not interested.” With that, he turned and left. **4** Mom closed the door. Seraphina, who had held it in all night, finally burst into tears, collapsing onto the table. Dad watched, his heart aching, and eventually couldn’t hold back his anger, striking out with a slap. I was unprepared and fell awkwardly to the floor. My head hit the corner of the table. A dull throb pulsed through it. Mom, her face etched with pain and frustration, embraced Seraphina’s shoulders and said to me, “Daisy, don’t blame your father for being so harsh; tonight, you were truly, truly a disappointment!” “Did you forget Mom’s repeated warnings?” “Why did you come downstairs on your own? Why did you talk to him? Are you really that pathetic?!” Blood oozed from the cut on my forehead, trickling into my eyes. My vision blurred, obscured by a crimson haze. Clutching the bleeding wound, I tried to explain: “I’m sorry, I thought he had left. I didn’t mean to…” Seraphina suddenly grabbed my collar, screaming hysterically: “Coming downstairs dressed like that, deliberately walking around barefoot in front of him, and bringing out some old box trying to get his attention, Daisy, who are you trying to seduce?!” “Do you even know who Elias Vance is? Do you know who *you* are? How dare you even think about him?” “Do you realize that because of your indecent behavior tonight, I could lose him?” “Can’t you live without a man? Seducing your own sister’s boyfriend!” With that, Seraphina opened the door and walked out. Mom quickly grabbed her: “Seraphina, where are you going at this hour?” Seraphina glared at me with hatred: “It’s either me or her in this house. If she stays, I leave!” Soon, the sound of a car engine starting echoed from the garage. Mom sighed deeply. Dad slammed a door in frustration. I spoke softly: “Should I stay somewhere else tonight?” Mom hesitated for a few moments: “Where would you go?” “I can stay in a hotel. I always stayed in hotels when I was abroad; I’m used to it.” Back then, I couldn’t stand the inhumane torment, so whenever I had a chance, I would escape from the hospital. I stayed in the cheapest motels, trying to avoid the painful treatments they arranged for me. But Seraphina always found me quickly and dragged me back. Mom was silent, then after a while, she nodded: “Tonight was indeed your fault, so go stay out. When your sister cools down, Mom will pick you up.” **5** In the hotel room. Standing in front of the mirror, I carefully wiped away the blood from my forehead. The wound was a bit large; a single bandage wouldn’t cover it. But it was so late, and I didn’t dare leave the hotel room to buy more bandages. Usually, I could never get enough sleep. But tonight, perhaps because of the throbbing pain in my forehead, I found it hard to sleep at all. I had forgotten why I was sent abroad. I only remembered that, ever since childhood, Seraphina had always been smarter and more accomplished than me. Wherever she went, she seemed to glow. So, my parents held the highest expectations for her. Seraphina started as a child model at a very young age, and later, she became wildly popular with her image as a brilliant scholar. As for me, besides having looks comparable to hers, I was completely useless. So, I understood my parents’ favoritism. I agreed with their decision to channel more resources towards my capable sister. But was this favoritism the reason they sent me abroad? I remembered when I was abroad, taking handfuls of pills and undergoing painful treatments. Mom told me on the phone that it would make me smarter. But I always felt that since returning from abroad, my brain worked even worse. Besides being constantly sleepy, my reactions were slower. Had my parents brought me back because the treatment failed? Were they even more displeased with me because I was dumber? **6** During the day, I wandered the streets. As soon as night fell, I returned to the hotel to sleep. I stayed in the hotel for a week, but Mom still hadn’t told me to come back. I had run out of money. I SnapChatted my mom. I discovered she had blocked me. At noon, as I sat in the hotel lobby, staring blankly, I saw a striking couple from a distance, standing at the entrance to the indoor garden. The man had a tall, commanding presence, his back to me, showing only his broad, straight shoulders. The woman had an enviable figure, accentuated by an elegant long dress, her face upturned as she smiled at the man. But I could only see half of her profile. I shook my head, trying to see more clearly. But these past few days, I always had a headache, and everything looked as if through a fog. This only made the scene in front of me feel even more atmospheric. I pulled out my phone to capture the beautiful scene. But I completely forgot to turn off the flash, and my shutter sound was cranked all the way up. They quickly noticed me. The man’s jawline seemed to clench. His gaze towards me was extremely hostile. I watched as the two of them strode towards me, feeling fidgety and anxious. Until Elias Vance and Seraphina stood over me, looking down. “Daisy, what are you doing here?” Elias Vance’s voice was as cold as ever. I looked at Seraphina, too scared to speak. Elias Vance extended a long, slender hand: “Give me your phone.” Trembling, I handed my phone to him. It was so strange; he knew my password. Even I didn’t know what my six-digit password meant. I’d tried everyone’s birthdays at home, but none of them worked. Elias Vance pulled up the photo, his eyes dangerously narrowed: “Why were you secretly taking pictures? Daisy, what do you intend to do to Seraphina? Are you trying to hurt her again?” I shook my head frantically, so nervous I was close to tears: “No, I didn’t.” I knew Seraphina was more accomplished than me. I was so ordinary, so I never thought about competing with her for anything. But Mom said I had once appeared at Seraphina’s new show’s press conference, dressed to the nines. A reporter had commented that Seraphina and I looked alike but had completely different temperaments. Seraphina was pure and ethereal, while I was whimsical and utterly innocent. They said I had a broader range for acting roles. Because of that, Seraphina’s confirmed lead role suddenly ran into complications. In the end, I didn’t get to act, but Seraphina lost her chance to become an A-list actress. That’s why Seraphina hated me, hated me for deliberately stealing the spotlight and being unable to bear her success. No matter how I explained, no one believed me. That day, I wasn’t trying to steal Seraphina’s glory; I just wanted to witness her success. I had spent all my pocket money renting an expensive gown, just so I wouldn’t embarrass my sister. I never imagined that I would somehow outshine her. I really didn’t mean to. But no one believed me. Those days when everyone turned against me, my family took turns expressing their disappointment. It was suffocating. Like a nightmare. I never wanted to go through it again. “Please believe me, I didn’t.” I desperately grabbed Elias Vance’s sleeve, pleading. He frowned, then said: “Daisy, are you still pretending? You didn’t really lose your memory, did you?

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To bring an end to the brutal war, I volunteered to become a peace bride, marrying Kael, the formidable chieftain of the Wolfen Clans, my childhood companion. Kael, a whirlwind of raw power, pinned me to the open plains. For three days and three nights, he took me until I faded into unconsciousness. I truly believed Kael loved me. But later, it was *he* who led a hundred thousand beast warriors, their iron hooves trampling through the heart of Aethelgard. He forced my head back, making me watch in horror: my King, torn apart by the wolves until his head was gone. My brother, the Crown Prince, cut down, his body trampled into unrecognizable pulp beneath their horses. Those savages even stripped my Queen Mother bare, shaming her until blood streamed from her legs… Kael smiled at me, yet his eyes held no trace of emotion: “Lyra, did you truly believe your beauty, magnificent enough to topple kingdoms, could ever capture my heart?” “Your royal family slaughtered countless of my kin. You offer only yourself in return, yet you dare to dream of erasing this ocean of blood and vengeance!” In the end, Kael united the lands, and he had his beloved Queen. He locked me away in the forgotten chambers, stripped of my title and my very name. Every time I tried to end my life, he’d exhume a corpse from the royal crypts and grind their bones to dust before me. “You will not die without my command!” I stopped struggling. Anyway, there were only three days left until the potent poison, which I had consumed years ago to save him, finally claimed my life. *** Lena’s birthday feast. Kael granted me a rare reprieve from my solitary prison. My eyes burned as I watched the woman on the high platform, adorned with an ornate, feathered circlet – a sacred relic of my Queen Mother. “Impudent wretch! Bow before His Majesty and the Queen!” Someone brutally kicked me. My knees slammed against the stone floor, my forehead touching the ground as I numbly performed a deep bow. Kael didn’t let me rise, his face expressionless: “Lyra, you’re late by a good fifteen minutes. Are you deliberately trying to disrespect Lena?” “This slave deserves death.” I knocked my head against the floor again. I didn’t bother explaining that my legs were weakened, and walking all the way from my secluded chambers would take at least a couple of hours. Kael’s face twisted into a sneer. “You’ve learned your lesson, haven’t you?” The last time I disobeyed, he’d locked me in a beast cage and bled me half-dry to quench the thirst of his monstrous hounds. When I was on the brink of death, he’d then order his men to scour the lands for the rarest herbs and potent elixirs, barely clinging to my life. “My dear sister, please rise. You were once a princess, precious as a gem. Even with your kingdom fallen, why do you still act like a lowly servant?” Lena herself helped me up, her words dripping with false kindness, twisting the knife deep into my most painful wound. She spotted the wolf fang bracelet coiled around my wrist, and a flicker of covetousness crossed her eyes. She said she adored it and wanted it as a birthday gift. I glanced at Kael. He showed no reaction. This was a gift from Kael himself, an ancient heirloom of his clan. Each fang was said to be a potent remedy, carrying a unique, enduring scent that never faded. 2. Long-term wear was believed to soothe pain and extend one’s lifespan. I’d always been frail since childhood, and when he gave it to me, he’d wished for my lifelong peace and health. “If Her Majesty desires it, how could this slave refuse?” I removed it from my wrist and placed it into Lena’s outstretched hand. As I withdrew my gaze, I faintly heard the sound of a spilled goblet from the high platform. Lena toyed with the wolf fang bracelet, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. “Oh, right, I recall you were once famed as ‘Aethelgard’s Enchantress,’ weren’t you? Why don’t you grace us with a performance?” I numbly endured the malicious, spectating gazes from across the banquet hall. There were commanders from the Wolfen Clans. And also the traitors who, from within, had opened Aethelgard’s city gates. But I had no right to refuse. A bowl of steaming broth, just served, splashed over me. It scalded my skin instantly, peeling it back. “What are you standing there for, dumbstruck? A fallen royal, still daring to act like a spoiled princess? You’re lucky to be breathing, don’t push your luck!” As if I felt no pain, I rose on my tiptoes. I transformed myself into a dancer, a plaything for their amusement. The Wolfen Clans had an open, wild culture, and those barbarians still weren’t satisfied. They cheered, urging me to strip. Kael’s gaze, cold and dark, lingered on me from afar. It was his silent permission. I bit my lip, then began to unfasten my belt. My clothes, clinging to my scalded skin, ripped as I tore them off, leaving raw, bleeding patches. Piece by piece, I undressed in this very Throne Room, a place filled with countless beautiful memories of my past. Tears finally fell. Only when the banquet ended was I permitted to stop. Kael walked towards me, reeking of wine. His icy fingertips brushed against the damp streaks on my face, wiping away a single tear. But his voice was utterly devoid of feeling: “Lyra, are you deliberately trying to play for pity in front of me?” “This slave… wouldn’t dare.” But as the words left my lips, my old ailment flared up again. I coughed up blood right in front of him, feeling as though my entire insides were being torn out. Kael recoiled in disgust, his sneer deepening. “I’ve seen this sickly, pathetic state of yours for ten years. Haven’t you had enough of pretending?” I once believed he despised the women of the Central Kingdoms, hated my delicate nature and my weakness. Yet, for Lena, he was endlessly devoted. Lena would just lightly frown, and the royal healers would already be waiting at her door, ready to drop everything. The parasites gnawed at me. My body trembled, cold sweat pouring from my forehead. Before I lost consciousness, I thought I saw a flicker of panic in Kael’s eyes. He gritted his teeth, his voice a low growl: “Lyra, I won’t let you die easily. You will live, and you will atone!” But I couldn’t atone anymore… In two more days, I would surely die. The next morning, I woke up to find my burns had been treated. 3. I vaguely realized this wasn’t my solitary prison, but the King’s royal chambers. I remembered when my King was still alive, he often held my brother and me in this very room, teaching us to read and write. My Queen Mother would bring me warm, fragrant honey cakes she’d baked herself. But I couldn’t even recall their taste anymore. “You’re awake.” Kael approached, his face expressionless. He gripped my jaw, pouring a bowl of incredibly bitter blood-tonic medicine down my throat. His strength was immense. I choked, my eyes stinging red. “Lyra, don’t look at me with such pitiful eyes.” Kael sneered. “Even if your hands are clean, unstained by my kin’s blood, as long as you were born into that royal family, you are not innocent.” The day our kingdom fell, he slaughtered every last royal bloodline of the former regime. Even the fully formed child in my womb, his own flesh and blood, he did not spare. Only I was left alive. I didn’t understand… was this love, or hatred? It must be hatred. That’s why he later made me soak night after night in freezing, potent herbal baths, designed to steal away my ability to bear children. He wanted me to be completely barren. He didn’t want me to bear his children. He despised me, my lineage tainted. I wiped the medicine from the corner of my mouth. Before I could speak, a joyous shout came from outside. “Your Majesty! The royal healers have confirmed Her Majesty Lena is with child!” Kael’s expression froze, then his voice filled with excitement: “Are you serious? Lena is pregnant?” My gaze was distant, watching the joy of a new father spread across his face. Perhaps the parasites began gnawing again, for my hand instinctively clutched my chest. It hurt so much. I had intended to die alone in my desolate prison when the poison finally took hold. But Kael, of all times, sent me to attend to Lena now. He knew exactly how to inflict the cruelest torment upon me. A swift death would have been merciful. Instead, he wanted me to witness, with my own eyes, other women bearing his children. While our own child, whom he’d personally ripped from my womb, lay buried on the back hill, a lone, unmarked grave, not even a simple headstone. Lena smiled at me, a soft, saccharine smile. “You, born of nobility, my dear sister, His Majesty asks you to serve me, but I couldn’t possibly make you do menial tasks. Just clean up the fallen petals in the front courtyard.” I picked up the broom, looking at the courtyard blanketed in peach blossoms. Other palace maids openly rolled their eyes at me, their voices filled with disdain. “A princess from the fallen regime, she’s lucky to be left to rot in her cold palace. Only our Queen is kind enough to call her ‘sister.’” “Noble born? Ha! She’s clearly lower than the cheapest concubine, utterly despised by His Majesty. If I were her, I wouldn’t have the audacity to cling to life so shamelessly.” Red rashes slowly began to appear on my skin. I gasped for breath, and suddenly felt a warm liquid trickling from my nose. I reached up, touching it, and froze. “Ah!” 4. Lena saw the blood covering my face and was instantly overcome with feigned shock. When Kael rushed in, he slapped me without a word, his force so great it sent me sprawling to the ground, scattering a flurry of peach petals. I began to cough.

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My son loves to threaten me by punishing himself. It was scorching hot, over 100 degrees, and he deliberately smashed the AC unit. “Unless you immediately transfer fifty thousand dollars to my dad,” he snarled, “I’ll let myself overheat and die right here!” I was just so tired of this familiar drama. Quietly, I used that fifty thousand dollars to buy a small apartment, then moved to a cooler resort town overnight. The temperature hit a new high today. News reports said two hundred new cases of heatstroke had been reported, including two severe heatstroke cases. I remembered my son, Liam, had complained the old AC wasn’t cooling well, so I immediately ordered a brand-new one for him. Before he got back, I turned the AC on, setting it to a comfortable temperature. For dinner, I made some refreshing, cool salads and cold noodles. The food was on the table when he walked in. “Mom, why is it so cool in here? Did you get a new AC?” he asked the moment he stepped inside. I smiled. “Yep, it cost over five thousand dollars, but the weather’s so hot, I had to. You wouldn’t sleep well otherwise, and how would you study?” His face inexplicably darkened. He slammed the book in his hand onto the floor. He glared at me, his eyes cold. “Five thousand dollars for an AC, just like that?! How can you be so wasteful? No wonder Dad divorced you!” My smile vanished. “It’s so hot, I only replaced it for your good. How can you talk to your mom like that?” “Besides, I’m spending my own money. What does that have to do with your dad?” He rubbed the back of his head, annoyed. He pointed out the window. “My dad’s out there delivering food in this scorching heat, and here you are, chilling in air conditioning. Don’t you feel ashamed?” He started to get teary-eyed with anger. “It’s almost 100 degrees! After a hard day, he only has a fan in his cramped, rundown apartment in the city’s older district. How many times does he wake up in the middle of the night from the heat? He barely falls asleep before he has to get up before dawn to deliver food again! And what were you doing then? Sleeping soundly in your nice, cool room!” He pointed a finger at my nose, spitting as he yelled, “Just for that, you don’t deserve this AC!” With that, he angrily grabbed the fire extinguisher from the corner and rushed towards the standing AC unit, smashing it with all his might. “My dad’s suffering, so I don’t deserve to be comfortable either! Unless you transfer fifty thousand dollars to him, I’m not using this AC!” Under his relentless blows, the AC unit shattered. He didn’t stop there. He grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped the AC wires into pieces, completely destroying it. I was too shocked to speak. I thought about the past few days, how Liam had several times seemed on the verge of saying something to me, and how he’d been having inexplicable outbursts of temper. Suddenly, it all clicked. He was blowing off steam for his dad.

My ex-husband, Richard Peterson, and I divorced five years ago. The reason was that he secretly lent my ten years of savings to his younger sister, Chloe, for her business without telling me. In less than three months, Chloe blew through all my money. Richard then secretly told Chloe that she didn’t have to pay it back, so they wouldn’t feel burdened. At that time, my smoothie shop was forced to close because it lacked the working capital from that money. I still clearly remember how he scolded me when I asked his sister for the money back. “We’re married, so my sister is your sister. What’s wrong with spending some money on family? Why are you so selfish? Only thinking about yourself!” “I’m the oldest in the family; it’s my responsibility to support my siblings. How can I ask for the money back now? Where would I put my face?” “Yes, I know you’re upset, but we’re the older ones, aren’t we? We should suffer a little so our younger siblings can have a good life, right?” So, I divorced him without hesitation. Our son, Liam, lived with me, only visiting his dad for a few days during summer and winter breaks. At first, everything was harmonious. Later, Liam, for some reason, started finding fault with me every other day. When I bought expensive grapes, he said I was wasting money. When I had a late-night snack, he said I was extravagant. Even when I bought him study materials, he said I had too much money and nowhere to spend it. The day we moved into our new house, he flipped over a table full of food in front of my friends. He screamed, asking me why I was moving. Why I deserved to live in such a nice house. I never understood. I tried every way to create good living conditions for him, so how could everything I did be wrong in his eyes? Now I get it. He could empathize with his dad but couldn’t empathize with me. No matter what I did, as long as I was doing better than his dad, I was wrong. I suddenly remembered when he found out the reason for my divorce, he said something dismissively. “It’s just two hundred thousand, isn’t it? Aunt Chloe isn’t an outsider. Do you really need to make such a big deal out of it?” Back then, I thought his dad had taught him that. Now, it seems he and his dad are cut from the same cloth. They both want to burn themselves out to light up others. Unfortunately, I’m not that noble.

I tried to reason with him. “Your dad is a private school teacher; he has a solid salary. He has enough money to install an AC for himself. Do you know why he still works hard delivering food after work?” He kept smashing the AC, scoffed, and said nothing. I patiently explained, “It’s because his younger brother, David, is getting married and needs a three-hundred-thousand-dollar dowry. He sent all his savings back, but he’s still short by one hundred and fifty thousand, so he had to start delivering food.” “For the past year, he’s been working multiple jobs so hard, all to save money for David’s wedding.” “Last month, I heard he was still short fifty thousand, and David couldn’t wait any longer, urging him to get the money quickly. That’s why he came to me. After buying this apartment, I didn’t have much money left, and I needed to save that for your college tuition, so of course, I wouldn’t lend it to him.” He cut me off. “I don’t care! I just want my dad not to work so hard! Transfer the money to him right now! Otherwise, I’ll overheat and die right here!” He went back into his room, grabbed a blanket, wrapped it around himself, and said firmly, “I mean it!” The temperature in the room quickly rose. I was already sweating profusely. He was even worse. He was panting from the heat, his breath hot, like steam from a boiling pot. But his eyes, covered in sweat, stared at me with fierce determination. He’d used this trick since he was little. He always used himself to threaten me. If I didn’t buy him something, he’d go on a hunger strike or lock himself in his room. My heart ached for him, and I always had to give in. This time, though, I felt unusually exhausted. Suddenly, I wondered what the point of working so hard was. He wrapped another blanket around himself, forcing me to transfer the money to Richard. I had no choice but to FaceTime Richard. I aimed the camera at Liam and told Richard, “Your son is punishing himself because you won’t use the AC. Please, talk some sense into him. He’s deliberately suffering; he’ll get sick eventually.” Richard said exactly what I expected. “That’s my good boy. It’s okay to be a little hot; it won’t kill anyone. The money saved on the AC can be used for your uncle David’s wedding.” I watched Liam’s reaction, hoping he’d realize the truth. But he just nodded, moved. “Dad, don’t worry, I know you’re doing this for me. I’ll always support you!” Seeing this, the last flicker of hope in my heart was completely extinguished. I opened my SnapChat wallet. Liam immediately threw off the blankets, his face beaming with pride, thinking he had me exactly where he wanted me. “That’s right! You married my dad, so you should be his strongest supporter, fully backing all his decisions.” “After you transfer the money to him, go buy an AC from eBay. No, buy two! One for us, and one for Dad. A family should share hardships together.” I didn’t respond. He noticed I wasn’t transferring money at all; I was actually browsing hotels. He immediately exploded. “What are you doing? Didn’t I tell you to transfer money to Dad?” I booked a king-sized room right in front of him, calmly saying, “It’s too hot to sleep without AC. If you want to share hardships with your dad, that’s fine, but I have no interest in joining you.” His face contorted with rage. Then he piled all the blankets back on himself. “If you dare go to that hotel, I’ll literally overheat and die for you!” I didn’t answer, packed a change of clothes, and walked out.

I was sleeping comfortably in the hotel when I was woken up by a call from my neighbor. He said my son had suffered heatstroke and had crawled to his doorstep in the middle of the night for help. He was currently being treated at the hospital. I notified Richard to rush to the hospital. By the time I arrived, Liam’s condition had stabilized. His face was still flushed, as if it had been scorched by fire. When he saw me, his eyes reddened, and he stubbornly turned his face away. “What are you doing here? Go back to your hotel and enjoy your AC! Just let me die from the heat!” I was both angry and amused. “So, you really don’t want me here?” He retorted without hesitation, “Who needs you here? Without you, my dad would take care of me. Living with him is a hundred times, a thousand times better than living with you!” I chuckled. “It only takes about fifteen minutes to get here from your dad’s place, while it takes me half an hour from the hotel. I only left after I notified him, and I’ve been here for ten minutes already, but he still hasn’t arrived. Do you really think he puts you first?” Just as I finished speaking, Richard arrived. He was wearing a loose, shapeless white undershirt and faded black shorts, his head completely shaved. He looked like he’d stepped out of the 80s. The first thing he did when he saw me was to curse. “How could you take care of our son so poorly? The AC was on at home, and he still got heatstroke?” Liam started sobbing, touched. Watching this touching father-son scene, I suddenly said, “Alright, since you say I can’t take care of him, then you take him. Anyway, he doesn’t care to live with me.” Both of them froze. Richard opened his mouth and chuckled awkwardly. “Sarah, don’t try that on me. You begged and paid to get custody of our son back then, and now you’re willing to give him up? I don’t believe your nonsense!” Liam also had a cold expression, saying impatiently, “She’s just so dramatic. She’s unwilling to help her family at all. She’s just a self-centered and manipulative person who only cares about her own pleasure.” I had no strength to argue back. After a sigh, I said, “Say whatever you want. Anyway, I won’t interfere with your affairs.” Liam immediately sat up and pulled out his IV drip. “I told you to transfer the money to Dad, so you better do it! Otherwise, I’m leaving with Dad today, and I’ll never see you again!” Richard chimed in, “My son, so young, understands this, but you, an adult, don’t. You should reflect on yourself. Anyway, if I just get fifty thousand to solve my brother’s urgent problem, I can relax for a while.” As he spoke, his phone rang. From the sound, it seemed to be his brother, David. “Bro, I’m hungry. Can you bring me some food? I want crayfish and stir-fried noodles, and a cold beer, plus Michelle’s bubble tea, a large one! Hurry up and bring it. You know my room number. Just send it up with a robot; you don’t have to run all the way, save yourself the trouble.” Richard looked troubled. “David, your nephew is in the hospital. I can’t leave right now. How about I transfer two hundred dollars so you can order takeout?” The voice on the other end wouldn’t give up. “I don’t trust takeout, Bro. I only trust food from the places you personally buy it from. And isn’t Liam with his mom? How could you bother yourself with this?” “Anyway, if you don’t bring it, then we’ll just starve. We might just get stomach problems, and then Mom and Dad will have to worry about me and lose sleep.” At this point, Richard quickly agreed. “Alright, alright, Bro, I’m going to buy it for you now. Just wait. There should be some crackers in the hotel; eat those to tide yourself over.” He hung up the phone and looked at me. “Sarah, you heard that. My brother’s here. You watch Liam. He seems stable enough.” I asked him, “Your brother’s here, why isn’t he staying with you in your rental? Don’t you always preach frugality?” He frowned. “He brought his girlfriend; could I make them stay with me? Besides, I’m the eldest brother. It’s only right for the eldest brother to take care of his younger siblings. Why are you so against my family doing well?” I waved my hand. “Forget it, I don’t care. It’s none of my business anyway.” He hesitated, then turned to Liam. “Liam, Dad has to go. Take care of yourself.” Liam nodded, his eyes soft. “Dad, I know your struggles. Don’t worry about me; I can take care of myself.” As soon as Richard left, Liam’s eyes reddened. “My dad works so hard. He earns the money, but others get to enjoy it. Some people just don’t have any sympathy for him.” He still hadn’t reinserted his IV. He glared at me resentfully. “I think Uncle David is only here for that fifty thousand. He won’t leave until he gets the money. For Dad’s sake, can’t you just let him use the money?” I shook my head. “No.” He got angry. “Fine, you’re something else. Then you can guard your money. From today on, I’m moving in with my dad!”

My son kept his word. That evening, he went home, packed his things, and left. He only took his study materials, a few clothes, and essential ID. He left everything else behind. As he left, he gave me a particularly defiant ultimatum: “Unless you solve my dad’s financial problems, even if you roll out the red carpet for me, I won’t come back!” “I’ll just re-study in that hot, cramped room in the city’s older district. Then I’ll be too hot to study anything, and next year I’ll score even worse than this year, maybe not even enough for community college! In the end, I won’t find a decent job and will end up doing manual labor in a factory. My life will be completely ruined!” I didn’t say a word. He stood there for a few minutes, then finally walked away with his backpack. This was his second time running away from home. The first time was three years ago. That’s when I heard his aunt Chloe had money, so I sued her to get my money back. His dad found out and was so angry he ended up in the hospital. Liam also got anxious and forced me to withdraw the lawsuit. When I refused, he ran away from home. He rode the bicycle I bought him to his dad’s place overnight. No matter how I tried to convince him, he wouldn’t go back to school. I was worried. Afraid he’d fall behind in school, I had no choice but to compromise and withdraw the lawsuit. He even made me apologize to his aunt Chloe in front of everyone. Only then did he reluctantly come back with me. Now, looking back, I truly regret it. The past cannot be changed. But the present and future are in my hands. I won’t make the same mistake again. I contacted a real estate agent that night and put my apartment up for sale. At the same time, I contacted someone to find me an affordable place in a small, remote town. The agent was efficient and got back to me the next day. They sent me several small apartments that cost only tens of thousands of dollars. The temperature there was around 70 degrees Fahrenheit, a natural summer retreat. It gets very cold in winter, but with floor heating, it wouldn’t be an issue. On the day I arrived at my new home, my son, who had been silent for a week, suddenly called me. “Mom, where are you? Why can’t I get into the house anymore?”

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Five years into my marriage, I discovered our marriage certificate was a fake. The five years I thought were sacred vows, legally, never existed. The loving husband I thought I had was legally married to someone else. I left quietly, no arguments, no accusations. But he regretted it. 0 I handed my medical report to the nurse. “Can’t I use my husband’s health insurance for payment now? Is his coverage sufficient?” The nurse took my ID, typed some information into her computer, and frowned slightly. “Ms. Maxwell, your marital status shows as ‘single.’ We need your spouse’s ID and a valid marriage certificate to open your file.” I froze. “That’s impossible. My husband and I registered five years ago.” She turned the screen toward me—my marital status in the system was indeed blank. My fingers turned icy cold. I pulled our marriage certificate from my bag. “See? This is our marriage certificate. There must be a system error.” The nurse took the document, examined it closely, and her expression subtly shifted. “Your marriage certificate… it might be problematic.” She picked up a UV pen from the desk and shone it on the official seal. A real Registrar’s Office seal would display security features under UV light. Mine showed nothing. I remembered that day, five years ago. Marcus Thorne had insisted we use some special “private appointment” channel, claiming it would expedite the process at the Registrar’s Office. Now, it all felt like a twisted joke. I stumbled out of the hospital, my head spinning. The early summer sun stung my eyes. Standing on the steps, I suddenly thought of Marcus when he was eighteen. I had just started college, and I casually mentioned craving a specialty pastry from an old bakery across town. He skipped his afternoon classes, cycled across the entire city, and bought the last box just before the shop closed. When he delivered it to my dorm, his white shirt was drenched with sweat, but he still smiled and said, “Taste it quickly, it’s best warm.” On my twenty-fifth birthday, I was pulling an all-nighter in the lab, finishing a thesis. He waited downstairs until two in the morning, holding a thermal container filled with tiramisu he’d failed five times to make. I scolded him for not going home sooner, but he kissed my fingers and said, “I have to be there for every important moment of your life.” And now, at thirty, I stood on the hospital steps, clutching that torn, fake marriage certificate. I finally understood that those sweet moments were just seeds planted for this absurd drama unfolding today. I walked out of the hospital in a daze, clutching the marriage certificate that had been declared a “forgery.” Unconsciously, I found myself in the most bustling downtown mall. I mechanically pushed open the glass doors, and the cool air washed over me. Then, I saw them. Marcus Thorne stood in front of a jewelry counter, impeccably dressed in a suit. Beside him, Scarlett Hayes was bending her head, trying on a diamond ring. “Mr. Thorne is so thoughtful for his wife,” the sales associate beamed. “This is a limited edition piece; there are only three pairs in the entire city.” Scarlett shyly pursed her lips, and when she looked up at Marcus, her eyes sparkled like stars. “Honey, do you like it?” Honey. The word was a blunt knife, slowly slicing open my heart. Even more ironic, the diamond necklace around her neck was the exact same one Marcus had given me for my birthday last month, calling it a “one-of-a-kind gift.” Now, it adorned another woman. Marcus gently stroked her long hair, his voice filled with indulgence. “If you like it, we’ll buy it.” The sales associate exclaimed enviously, “You two are truly a perfect match, made for each other!” Made for each other? What did that make me? I stood hidden behind a marble pillar, gripping my ultrasound scan tightly. A sudden sharp pain shot through my abdomen, as if the baby was weeping for this grotesque play. My nails had dug into my palms at some point, but I felt no pain. So, the happiness of these past few years, it was all a lie. Since Marcus was so desperate to keep me in the dark, I would make him truly understand the consequences of deceiving me. 0

I turned and walked away, heading straight to my mentor, Professor Davies. The lab was empty that evening, only the innermost office still had its light on. I knocked softly and heard his familiar voice. “Come in.” Professor Davies looked up from a screen full of code, his eyes widening when he saw me, drenched from head to toe. “Rain?” “Professor,” my voice was calmer than I expected, “did you say there’s still a faculty position open at Cambridge?” He rose and handed me a towel. “Dry yourself first.” Only then did I realize I was trembling. Professor Davies said, “The Cambridge faculty is very impressed with your new concept.” He paused. “But a more critical position is at ETH Zurich—they need someone to lead their newly established AI Ethics Institute.” “How soon?” I clenched my fists. Professor Davies handed me a file. “Expedited visa processing will take two weeks.” I lowered my head, thought for a moment, and then said, “Professor, is there a way for me to get a new identity?” Professor Davies pulled a passport and plane ticket from a hidden compartment in his bookshelf. “Use this identity: Lin Moran, Visiting Scholar at Zurich University.” “Thank you.” The three words felt heavy as lead when I spoke them. He shook his head. “When you cracked that encryption system at MIT all those years ago, I knew you’d go far.” As I pushed open the front door of our house, the rich scent of butter and garlic wafted out. Marcus was stirring pasta with his back to me, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to his elbows. He turned and smiled, a smudge of tomato sauce on the tip of his nose. “Baby, you’re back. Dinner’s almost ready.” Chilled white wine sat on the dining table. My mind, however, drifted back to that summer night. That evening, dragging my suitcase filled with things from overseas, I heard a sound in the darkness. His black Mercedes was subtly rocking in a secluded corner. I don’t remember how I was drawn to it, how I saw Marcus holding that girl’s face and kissing her. “Rain!” I still remember the look on Marcus’s face when he tumbled out of the car—a mix of panic and embarrassment, but not a trace of guilt. His explanation sounded rehearsed countless times. “She looked so much like you, I couldn’t help myself…” After that, he practically lived on my doorstep, begging for forgiveness and showing me every single message on his phone. “I’ll make her quit tomorrow. I’ll never see her again in my life.” I softened, choosing to forgive him. But three months later, at the company’s annual gala, I saw her, dressed in her assistant’s attire, adjusting his tie. Marcus said, “I told her to leave, but then she apparently got hired back as an executive assistant *on her own merit*, and I couldn’t exactly interfere with company policy, could I?” Looking back now, this absurd play had signs all along. How ridiculous. I was just the most laughable supporting character in their love story. He plated my steak, medium-rare, drizzled with black pepper sauce, accompanied by my favorite asparagus. The knife and fork were placed at the perfect angle, just like on every anniversary for the past five years. I stared at his long, slender fingers as he cut the meat. I suddenly thought of how those hands had trembled as they unbuttoned my shirt on our first night together, and how they had clutched Scarlett’s waist, pressing her against an office desk, just last night. He rose and came behind me, resting his chin on my head. “Baby, I missed you so much.” After dinner, he suddenly suggested watching a movie. He picked *Notting Hill*. When the scene with the gallery walk came on, he squeezed my fingers. “Remember? We walked like that in Boston.” Of course, I remembered. Back then, he’d cupped my face and said that “company meetings were less important than our honeymoon,” ditching a multi-million dollar contract just to be with me. Halfway through the movie, Marcus’s phone lit up. He glanced at the screen, his thumb unconsciously rubbing his left wrist watch—a habit he had when he lied. “Urgent tax reports from Finance,” he said, rising. He even thoughtfully pulled the blanket higher onto my shoulders. “You go to sleep. Don’t wait up for me.” “Go ahead,” I pulled the blanket he’d given me tighter. “I’ll just finish the ending.” The moment the front door clicked shut, I threw off the blanket and rushed into the garage. His taillights hadn’t even vanished around the corner. I started the second car he thought I didn’t know about—Scarlett’s lucky charm still hung from the rearview mirror. 0

The 23rd floor of the office building was brightly lit. Through the blinds, I saw Scarlett wearing a nightgown identical to mine, twirling the leftover pasta with a fork. He laughed, leaning in to bite the other end, and as their lips met, she deliberately smeared sauce on his tie. “You’re awful~” Scarlett’s voice drifted through the barely closed window. “Didn’t *your wife* keep you satisfied?” He lifted her onto the desk, piled high with documents. “We’re the real deal, baby.” *The real deal*, huh? Just as that phrase struck me, “Marcus,” she drew out his name, her fingertip tracing the sauce stain on his tie. “Where’s my lucky charm? You promised it to me today.” My heart instantly stopped when Marcus pulled a velvet box from his inner suit pocket. It was the consecrated charm, one I had literally *begged on my knees* to get for him after his car accident, pleading for hours at a spiritual sanctuary until my knees were bruised. The spiritual guide had said its vibrant red color was supposed to ward off bad luck. “It’s beautiful~” Scarlett held the bead up to the light, the red glow reflecting on her face like blood. “You giving me this… won’t Rain be upset?” “Why would she be upset? I’ll just say I lost it on a business trip,” Marcus knelt to tie the red string around her wrist, his movements practiced, as if he’d done it a thousand times. “If she complains, I’ll just tell her to go kneel and get another one.” I bit down on my lower lip until I tasted blood. Scarlett suddenly tugged on his tie. “I want you to thread it yourself.” She conjured a fine needle and red thread. “Just like she did for you back then.” As the needle pierced Marcus’s fingertip, a spasm twisted in my stomach. In my sophomore year, he’d broken his leg playing basketball. I’d stayed up all night in his hospital room, using embroidery thread to weave a bracelet from the special wooden beads my grandfather had given me. The thread was too thick for the holes, so I used a strand of my hair to guide it, pricking my fingertips until they were dotted with blood. Now, he held the needle, and a drop of blood rolled onto Scarlett’s foot. She laughed sweetly, licking away the blood, her red tongue like a venomous snake’s. I took one last look at the entwined figures, then turned and walked toward the elevator. My pale face reflected in the mirror. As my car pulled out of the garage, the lights on the 23rd floor were still bright. I rolled down the window, and the night wind rushed in, blowing away the fake marriage certificate. At four in the morning, I stood by the villa’s floor-to-ceiling window, looking at a message Marcus had sent on my phone: “Urgent situation with the company’s Riverbend City project. I need to handle it personally. Can’t be with you for the next couple of days, baby. Get some rest.” I stared at the message for a long time, my finger hovering over the screen, eventually replying with just “Okay.” Two days later, Marcus returned, travel-worn, his suitcase filled with so-called “Riverbend City specialties”—even though the exquisitely packaged pastries clearly bore the logo of a famous bakery right here in our city. “I brought you a gift.” He smiled, pushing a blue velvet box toward me. Inside was a diamond necklace, the pendant shaped like a tiny computer. I let him put it on me. “There’s a surprise tonight,” he kissed my forehead. Marcus had booked out the entire Contemporary Art Museum. In the center of the exhibition hall hung a massive digital oil painting: my neural network algorithm diagram, published in an international journal, which he’d had someone render into art. The surrounding walls were adorned with my academic achievements from over the years; every title page of every paper was framed like a masterpiece. “Mr. Thorne is truly a model husband!” Mr. Collins exclaimed, raising his champagne glass. “My wife’s partner doesn’t even know what her thesis was about.” “Rain loves these things,” Marcus said, his arm around my waist, his fingers gently caressing my side. “I want to celebrate every important moment of her life in a special way.” His voice was so tender it almost made me believe that what I’d seen in his office that night was just a nightmare. Until my lower leg began to ache faintly, protesting from standing too long, my old injury flaring up. “Tired?” He noticed my stiffness and immediately waved for his assistant. “Go get her spare flats from my car, they’re in the grey storage box in the trunk.” Ben hurried off, and Marcus continued to chat and laugh with the guests. 0 Twenty minutes later, the art museum’s glass doors were pushed open, and a damp gust of wind, carrying rain, swept into the hall. Scarlett stood in the doorway, soaked through, water dripping from her hair. She held a shoe box, looking timidly at Marcus. “Mr. Thorne, the shoes you asked for…” I recognized the diamond-studded high heels she wore—Marcus had custom-ordered them from Italy last month, claiming they were a gift for a client’s wife. Marcus’s smile froze on his face. Scarlett stumbled toward me, leaving a winding trail of water behind her. “Rain,” she handed me the shoe box. “I’m so sorry, I was just nearby…” “Thank you.” I took the shoe box and calmly headed to the restroom.

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Back from the dead, I decided to write my fake heiress sister Stella’s name on the 3-billion-dollar gift deed. This time, I was all in for Stella inheriting the family fortune. This life, I’d beat my parents to it, giving Stella the 3 billion and even my wealthy fiancé. I personally orchestrated every picture-perfect family moment between Stella and our parents. They moved to Montclair City with her. I didn’t say a word, packing my bags for a leading engineering school out West. In my last life, I took the 3 billion my parents gave me, single-handedly salvaged our family’s fortune, turning a 300 million debt into a 6 billion empire, securing their lavish lifestyle for generations. But I worked myself to death, literally, until I got stomach cancer and was bedridden at a young age . My parents not only showed no sympathy, they even gifted all my assets to Stella, ensuring she had a grand wedding with my fiancé. Reborn, I don’t want the billions, I don’t want to inherit anything. All I want is to be a soaring eagle, free to fly.

“Just fill in your name and give it to me.” My pampered mother, Eleanor, impatiently tapped on the desk. I stared at the asset gift deed, my fingertips lightly tracing the smooth A4 paper, my thoughts adrift. In my last life, this was the happiest day. I’d carefully, stroke by stroke, filled in my own name, then eagerly dragged Dad to buy a car. I wanted the car so I could pick them up from work, because after being apart for twenty years, I felt like I hadn’t had enough of their affection. But Dad had ripped into me, yelling that I was just a typical orphanage brat who’d never seen money before. He was in a hurry to go with Mom to Stella’s art exhibition. I mumbled, “Got it, got it.” I glanced up at Mom’s agitated expression and the hand that kept checking her phone. Mom was wearing a luxurious silk gown today, half-sleeved, showing off her slender, pale forearms. I remembered Stella loved her in that outfit, saying Mom looked so aristocratic, exuding an intimidating elegance, effortlessly outshining everyone else. “Mom, Dad, if you have something important to do, go ahead,” I forced down the bitter ache in my chest, trying to sound casual. “I’ll turn it in myself once I’m done.” Mom visibly relaxed, her tone softening a bit. “Don’t worry, now that we’ve found you, we’ll take responsibility for you.” “But you need to stop being jealous of Stella. Even though she’s not related by blood, we’ve raised her for so long. You know, she’s family, and we’ve raised her. Who could just abandon her without feeling anything? People would call us heartless.” I stayed silent. In my last life, I’d explained countless times, but in their eyes, I was just a jealous, petty older sister who simply couldn’t stand her frail, kind adopted sister. She didn’t say anything more, turning and hurrying off with Dad. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat, my mind replaying all the painful memories from my previous life. Buying Stella the prettiest dresses, taking her on world tours to broaden her horizons. For my coming-of-age party, they used Stella’s illness as an excuse, not coming home all night. They only took Stella when going out to business meetings, patiently and gently teaching her the ropes of the business, dead set on having her replace me, but she was always slow on the uptake. And then, right before I died, my parents didn’t shed a single tear. “You, while you still have a breath left, quickly sign the property transfer agreement. You’re not as good as Stella in any way.” “If you didn’t have a bit of business talent, why would I let you occupy the company for five years? Let go, it all belongs to Stella.” From my hospital bed, I watched my cold fiancé, Ryan, who stood silently beside them. His deathly silence was all the confirmation my parents needed. I bit down hard on my lower lip until I tasted a hint of blood before slowly releasing it. No, not this life. I won’t repeat my mistakes. I picked up the pen and, in the beneficiary column, slowly wrote three words: Stella Monroe. Mom, Dad, since you love her so much, let it be as you wish. I handed the filled-out gift deed to the notary and walked away without looking back. I wasn’t sad. Instead, I felt an inexplicable sense of liberation. 2. Stella Monroe was the child of our family’s former housekeeper. The housekeeper, envious of our privileged life, secretly swapped us as infants. Stella was a sweet-talker and a schemer. She managed to charm Mom and Dad into simply firing the housekeeper, giving her a large sum of money, and letting her “sell” Stella to them, without pursuing any further legal action. They treated Stella even better than their own daughter. When I came back, my parents weren’t happy. Instead, they blamed me for disrupting their family harmony. For the family alliance, Mom had long planned for Stella to marry my fiancé. But the other family’s elders insisted on a pure-blooded Monroe daughter for the marriage, so the intended spouse had to be me. Ryan and Stella were childhood sweethearts, and he was already deeply in love with her. He resented me for breaking them apart. In reality, Stella was just leading him on. At the time, Ryan was just a trust fund kid from the city’s old money families, and she was waiting for someone better. When no one else came along, she grudgingly pretended to agree to marry him. I took a trip to the leading engineering school out West, making sure I understood all the requirements for admission and the living expenses. Only then did I feel at ease enough to head back. Arriving back at the luxurious Monroe family villa, I walked in just as I heard Stella’s saccharine, childish whine cooing, “Mom, Dad, you even canceled your meetings to come back and be with me. Aren’t you going to accompany Clara to the West? Will she be mad?” “We can accompany her anytime. She’s always been a wild child.” “But you always get cramps during your period, and we didn’t feel right leaving you alone at home.” Stella smiled happily, then feigned sadness, saying, “Will Clara still be nice to me after she inherits the family business?” “Of course,” Mom’s voice was firm. “If not to you, then to whom?” “If your sister isn’t good to you, I’ll take back the 3 billion. If it weren’t for fearing it would be too much work for our Stella, I would never have let her inherit the family business!” I clenched my fists so tightly I thought my nails would dig into my palms, just to suppress the overwhelming bitterness in my chest. Even after everything, hearing my own mother speak of me with such coldness still hurt. I composed myself and walked into the villa as if nothing were wrong. 3. Mom and Dad emerged from Stella’s room, a hint of awkwardness on their faces. “We… we just came back early to check on Stella because she wasn’t feeling well.” I hummed vaguely and turned to go back to my room. In my last life, I’d argued with them countless times about their favoritism towards Stella. This life, I didn’t want to waste any more time or energy. Dad called out to me, “Clara, how about we buy you a car? You’ve got your driver’s license now, we should get you one.” I looked at him in surprise. Then I figured it was probably their way of compensating me for not arguing or making a fuss. “No need. My most important task right now is studying. It’s not easy for you to earn money, Mom and Dad.” He froze, probably finding it hard to believe I’d actually refuse that offer. “Is Clara mad because Mom and Dad came home to take care of me?” Stella emerged from her room, her babyish voice cooing, accompanied by a look of wronged innocence. She deliberately exposed her wrist, where she wore the jade bracelet I had bought specifically for Mom. I had saved up for six months, working crazy part-time jobs on weekends, without telling my parents, just to buy it. I’d presented it to Mom like a priceless treasure, but she’d scoffed, saying I was just a wild brat who just runs around, bringing home cheap junk to try and impress her. Seeing my gaze, Stella flusteredly explained, “I saw Mom’s jade bracelet today and thought it was pretty, so I wanted to try it on. I forgot to take it off.” She lowered her head, twisting her fingers nervously, looking like a child who had done something wrong. Mom instinctively started to say, “Clara, you shouldn’t…” I cut her off, my voice calm: “It looks quite nice on Stella. Just keep it. Anyway, I bought it from a street vendor.” “No, no, I can’t take Sister’s things. Mom and Dad have already given me so much since I was little.” In my last life, after saying that, Stella, despite her supposed illness, took off the bracelet, “accidentally” dropping it and shattering it on the ground. Seeing the broken bracelet on the floor, I cried and ran back to my room, only to be scolded by my parents who followed me in. Thinking about it now, it still makes my skin crawl. Under their surprised gazes, I returned to my room and locked the door. 4. I pulled out a package, inside was my acceptance letter—to the leading engineering school out West. In my previous life, I’d always loved the rich history of the West, especially its defense industry, which was my favorite field. Last life, for Mom and Dad, I gave up my passions and my university dreams, willingly starting from the bottom in Montclair City. With the 3 billion they gave me, I single-handedly salvaged our family’s fortune, which was 300 million in debt, literally working myself to death from stomach cancer. This life, thankfully, it’s not too late. I just want to live for myself. I checked my phone. Ten days left until I could leave this place. Time was tight, but I had to prepare every minute. A sudden knock on the door. I opened it impatiently. Mom stood there holding a bowl of noodles, her voice gentle, “Hungry? Mom made you a bowl of noodles. I haven’t cooked in years, come and try Mom’s cooking.” I felt a moment of unreality. In my last life, Mom was either cold as ice or spoke to me with venom, let alone cooking for me. It was as if I was the one who tore the family apart. It had been a long time since I’d seen Mom so amiable. “No thanks, I already ate out.” “How could you?!” “You’ve always been so frugal, haven’t you?” Her words stung. I used to be frugal, saving every penny, spending most of the money I earned from part-time jobs trying to please them, buying them things. But they always complained they were too cheap. Now I was going to university, and I had many expenses. Every penny had to be carefully budgeted. I looked up at her, my voice calm: “I remember a few days ago, I developed a paid app optimization for Mom’s company.” “You seem to be using it quite smoothly. Can I have the development fee now?” She froze, then awkwardly explained: “That app… I put it under Stella’s name. You know, your sister isn’t as capable as you, but she needs to establish herself in the high society circles.” I couldn’t help but curl my lip. How boring. Always the same. “If there’s nothing else, I’m closing the door to sleep.” “I’ll give you the money tomorrow,” she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “We’re family, do you have to be so calculative?” I couldn’t help but scoff, “So I pulled all-nighters to make that app, and the credit goes to someone else, the money goes to someone else, and I can’t even complain?” She knew she was in the wrong, but still stubbornly mumbled, “Unreasonable.” I didn’t want to argue with Mom any longer. I slammed the door shut. 5. For the next few days, I locked myself in my room, furiously coding and listing everything, valuable or not, on eBay. In my previous life, I had treasured the gifts my parents gave me. Now, compared to what Stella received, they were just cheap junk. I didn’t want to take a single piece with me. I packed them all up, turning them into cash for university. That afternoon, as I continued sorting my luggage, Mom stood before me, holding a card, saying stiffly, “Here’s your hundred thousand dollars.” I took the money and nodded. “Thanks.” She looked at me, her eyes complex, then her gaze fell on my light luggage. “We’re planning to have Stella move to Montclair City with us first. You don’t need to pack.” I didn’t stop packing, just nodded. She seemed unaccustomed to my attitude, looking somewhat uneasy. “What’s wrong with you lately? You’re like a different person.” I turned away impatiently. I didn’t want to stir up more trouble. Even though Mom and Dad didn’t love me, if they found out that Stella’s name was on the gift deed… It was highly likely they would make me sign a new gift deed for Stella’s sake. I didn’t want any more involvement with the Monroe family. “Nothing, just trying to pack.” “Once you’re in Montclair City, I can move back to the orphanage.” She breathed a sigh of relief, then explained, “It’s not that we don’t want you.” “It’s just that Stella loves Montclair City so much and wants to settle there. We’ll come pick you up in a few months, once we’re settled.” I nodded absentmindedly. In my previous life, for five whole years, they never came to pick me up. Not until I was utterly exhausted and on my deathbed did they rush back to break off my engagement and devour my assets to host a lavish wedding for Stella. She looked at me uncomfortably. Usually, whenever we were alone, I would chatter non-stop. Now that I was using so few words, she grew uneasy. “Weren’t you always wanting to attend the debutante ball? How about we go try on gowns tomorrow?” I knew attendees had to be 16 or older, of good character, from reputable families, with parents of good standing and no criminal record or bad conduct. No way. Tomorrow, I planned to go to a tech company to discuss a collaboration project, to earn money for university tuition and living expenses. I was about to find an excuse when Stella walked in. She intimately linked arms with Mom. “Mommy, when are we going to the debutante ball? Stella wants to go too, Stella wants a gown!” Mom lovingly stroked Stella’s head. “Alright, we’ll go together tomorrow.” “You go ahead. I have plans tomorrow.” Mom frowned. “What could be more important than attending the debutante ball?” “Go pick a gown first. Whatever you like, I’ll buy it for you.” Her voice was forceful, brooking no refusal. Stella whined, “Exactly, is Sister not going because of me?” I didn’t want to argue anymore and nodded, agreeing to go. 6. First thing in the morning, I heard Mom and Dad speaking in hushed, coaxing tones, trying to get Stella out of bed in her room. The stark numbers on my phone reminded me: four days left. In four days, I could completely escape this life. Just as I was about to lose my patience, they finally dragged themselves out of the room. Dad solicitously brought warm water, and Mom personally washed Stella’s face. The old me must have been blind, to naively believe that if I gave them my all, they would reciprocate. I was lost in thought when Dad awkwardly walked over to me, jingling a Maserati car key. “Stella doesn’t have her driver’s license yet, but we already got her a car. I can’t play favorites, so I bought one for you too.” I didn’t take it. In my last life, it was a 300,000 dollar BMW, not this expensive, luxury car. And Stella already had a Bentley before she was even old enough to drive. Stella saw it and immediately pouted. “Oh, it’s so beautiful! I want it too!” I generously offered, “Then you can have it.” Dad’s face instantly darkened. “Don’t be ridiculous, your sister passed her driving test but never had a car!” Stella snatched the car key, holding it up and jingling it at Mom and Dad. “Mom, Dad, will this be my motivation to get my driver’s license, huh?” Mom and Dad looked at Stella, their eyes full of doting affection, and reluctantly nodded. Then Dad guiltily turned to me, whispering, “I’ll… I’ll buy you one next time.” I nodded indifferently. I’d heard their promises too many times; none of them had ever been kept. At the evening gown boutique, Stella chose first, trying on numerous dresses. When it was my turn, the store manager brought out the most magnificent gown. When I put it on, gasps of admiration filled the room. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Stella “accidentally” spilled a cup of coffee on the gown. I secretly cheered inside, but kept a poker face. “Oh, never mind then.” I picked a simple, understated black gown. Walking out of the boutique, Dad pulled a job offer from his pocket—for a position on the assembly line at the family company in Montclair City, starting in four days. “We didn’t mean to abandon you,” he said. “We want to train you to take over the family business, starting from the ground up. In Montclair City, we’ve rented a small studio apartment for you. It wouldn’t be convenient for you to live at home while working undercover from the bottom.” The assembly line job was six days on, one day off. When business was good, they often worked overtime until midnight. I didn’t know how they thought I could endure it. Besides, I had done some digging. The small studio apartment Stella had rented for me was in the worst part of town, and it was a shared living space with a bizarre couple who had their days and nights flipped. At night, they were either screaming passionately or throwing all-night parties. The previous tenant couldn’t sleep at all, lost handfuls of hair, and was drowsy all day, even getting her hand caught in machinery. 7. Seeing me accept the offer, Dad visibly relaxed. “Don’t worry, even if you don’t live in the Montclair City villa, Mom and Dad won’t abandon you.” “We’ll be good to you, and we’ll hand the company over to you eventually. You just need to treat Stella like your own sister.” My expression softened for a moment. When had Dad ever spoken such soft words? Suddenly, a mugger wielding a kitchen knife burst into the store, charging straight at us. Mom and Dad pulled Stella into their embrace, ducking away. In the chaos, someone shoved me. The mugger held the knife to my throat. My body was stiff with fear, unable to move. “Hand over the money, or I’ll kill her.” A streak of blood appeared on my neck. It stung, making me wince, but I dared not make a sound, fearing I would enrage the mugger. Others in the store slowly gathered around, pointing and whispering. My gaze pierced through the onlookers, settling firmly on Mom and Dad. They were comforting Stella, completely oblivious to my situation. Perhaps they noticed, or perhaps they simply didn’t care. It was Stella, however, who bravely rushed out, yelling at the mugger. “How dare you touch my sister?! We’re the Monroe family from the Capital City! You want money? You won’t get any. Mess with the Monroes, and you’ll rot in prison for the rest of your life.” The mugger became agitated and was about to slice my throat. *Bang, bang, bang!* A sniper took him down. Only then did Mom and Dad dare to approach, embracing and comforting me. I gave a bitter smile. The last shred of hesitation in my heart vanished completely. So, this was their idea of “being good to me.” The 3 billion they gave me was just to pay off the 300 million family debt and ensure their own future comfort. 8. The driver took me to the hospital. After a thorough check-up, thankfully, it was just a scare, and a minor superficial cut on my neck. I lay in the hospital bed, my neck aching from the bandage, but my heart was strangely calm. It was late when Mom and Dad finally walked into the hospital, their faces tired. They saw me sitting on the bed, and a flicker of panic crossed their faces. “Clara, how are you feeling? Are you better?” I looked at them coldly, saying nothing. Dad nervously rubbed his hands, awkwardly explaining, “Stella was too scared, she’s been blaming herself for not protecting her sister. We’ve been with her, comforting her, so…” Under my gaze, Dad sheepishly fell silent. “Clara, listen to me. The situation was too urgent. Stella was closer to us, and I instinctively just…” He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. “I didn’t know you’d be taken hostage by the mugger.” I cut him off. “Dad, when are you planning to go to Montclair City?” Dad cautiously replied, “We leave tomorrow.” “Got it. I want to rest. The doctor wants me to stay for a few days for observation, so I won’t see you off.” I closed my eyes, dismissing them. Dad wanted to say more, but he eventually left, realizing it was futile. 9. The next day, Ryan’s mother, Mrs. Margot, came. She carried an insulated food container, her face wreathed in smiles. “Clara, Ryan’s so busy. He heard you were hurt and asked me to come take care of you.” “Are you feeling better?” “Much better, thank you, Mrs. Margot.” As she served me soup, she chattered on, “That boy, Ryan, he’s so stubborn. He keeps making a fuss in front of us…” Mid-sentence, she seemed to realize something and awkwardly shut her mouth. “Mrs. Margot, I won’t be marrying Ryan. His intended spouse is Stella Monroe.” Mrs. Margot froze, then after a long moment, she reacted. “You… what did you say?” “I have no feelings for Ryan. Stella is his perfect match.” Mrs. Margot’s face first showed shock, then morphed into unbridled joy. “Clara, you truly are a good girl! I knew you were the most sensible one!” She excitedly gripped my hand. “Clara, thank you! Thank you for making them happy!” I smiled faintly, saying nothing. Making them happy? No, I was just making *myself* happy. Mrs. Margot had always favored Stella. In my previous life, even if I tried my best to please her, all I got was endless ridicule. After I died, she gave most of her assets to her son as a dowry to lavishly marry Stella. The two families spent 100 million dollars on their wedding. “Mrs. Margot, please don’t tell Ryan or Stella about this yet.” Mrs. Margot beamed, unable to contain her joy. “Good, good, Mrs. Margot understands!” “So… what are your plans for the future?” “I’m leaving in a few days too.” I didn’t reveal my exact destination. Eleanor still wanted to ask more, her mind consumed by their wedding plans.

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The prince was searching the entire city for the girl who lost a glass slipper. My stepsister stole my shoe, claiming she was the one who danced with the prince last night. She didn’t know that the prince had killed someone that night. And I was the only witness. “Sister, please, give me back my shoe.” I clung to Victoria’s leg, begging desperately. Victoria grabbed my hair and spat in my face viciously. “Pfft, you filthy wretch! How dare you covet His Royal Highness? Go back to the attic where you belong, that’s your rightful place.” Madame Tremaine and Isabelle each grabbed one of my arms, pushing me towards the attic. I struggled fiercely, trying to lunge for the glass slipper. “You can’t take it out! You really can’t!” A few days ago, I suddenly found myself in a twisted version of the fairy tale, becoming Cinderella. At first, I thought, how bad could a fairy tale world be? Until I saw the prince slice open the Chancellor’s belly with his sword. After the murder, he stood calmly, using his long blade to lift up a section of the Chancellor’s intestines, admiring it in the moonlight. “Ah, how beautiful.” The bright red intestines dripped blood, and the prince’s eyes gleamed with an eerie, bloodthirsty light. I hid in the bushes, tightly covering my mouth, my whole body shaking uncontrollably with fear. I must have been shaking too hard because the prince suddenly turned his head in my direction, his gaze sharp and piercing like a hawk’s. “Who’s there? Come out!” I gasped, picked up my skirts, and ran. The prince chased after me, sword in hand. The palace was magnificent, with expensive crystal chandeliers hanging from the pillars on both sides, illuminating everything clearly. The prince laughed softly behind me. “Oh, it’s the beautiful girl who danced with me tonight—” His tone was sinister. I turned my head to look; the prince’s face was twisted with malice, his long sword still dripping blood, leaving a trail behind him. I was terrified, running faster than I ever had before. But the white jade steps at the palace gate were too long, and no matter how careful I was, I still lost one glass slipper. I knew he wouldn’t let me go. Sure enough, the next day, news of the Chancellor’s death spread throughout the country. The king was furious and ordered the guards to catch the real culprit. Along with the obituary, another piece of news spread across the country: the prince was looking for love. The prince had fallen in love at first sight with a beautiful girl at the ball. He announced that whoever could wear the glass slipper left behind by the girl would be the next princess. All the women in the city went crazy. Victoria and Isabelle started dressing up early in the morning, soaking their feet in milk, praying for this lucky glory to fall upon them. It wasn’t until Victoria came to my room to look for jewelry that she accidentally found the other glass slipper.

“You filthy wretch, how dare you sneak off to the ball behind our backs! If you’re so desperate for a man, we’ll marry you off to a stable boy tomorrow!” Madame Tremaine grabbed my hair and slapped me hard across the face several times. Victoria clutched the glass slipper to her chest and kicked me hard in the stomach. The attic door opened, and I fell down. Victoria giggled. “Thinking you could be a princess? You should look in a mirror first. “Stay here like a good girl. If you make a sound, you’re dead.” With a loud bang, the attic door was locked. I pounded on the door above my head, my face filled with despair. This is bad. If they take out this shoe, the prince will surely know I’m here. He’ll kill me! Soon, I heard Madame Tremaine’s fawning voice from above. “Oh my, Lord Roderick, why have you come personally— “No need to try it on, this shoe belongs to our Victoria. Victoria, show the other shoe to Lord Roderick.” Lord Roderick’s face was stern as he held a fine velvet cushion with a sparkling glass slipper on top. “Everyone must try it on. Oh—indeed, they make a pair. Noble lady, please come with me to the palace so the prince can see for himself.” The other maids and guards all offered their congratulations. Victoria excitedly hugged Isabelle and spun around. Soon, a flurry of footsteps gradually faded away, and silence fell once again overhead. I slumped to the ground, my face filled with despair. My sister’s foot was bigger than mine. Once they entered the palace and the prince discovered she couldn’t wear the shoe, he would soon come to my house. I had to escape before that happened. But the attic door was locked, and there wasn’t even a window. I had no way to escape. There were many tools in the attic. I found a hammer and started chipping away at the wall. After an hour, I had only managed to scrape off a thin layer of plaster. Covered in sweat, I angrily smashed the hammer against the wall a couple of times before throwing it to the ground. A mouse in the corner was startled and scurried to the other side, squeaking. Looking at that mouse, my eyes lit up as an idea suddenly came to me.

In my impression, Cinderella was always mistreated by her stepmother and forced to do chores. Whenever the housework became too overwhelming, she would start singing, and then many birds and small animals would come out to help her. This was a special ability of Disney princesses. Now that I had become Cinderella, shouldn’t I have this ability too? I cleared my throat. “Ooooh ooooh ooooh~ Aaaah aaaah~” No response. Maybe I was doing it wrong. I continued singing. “Eeee eeee eeee~ Oooo oooo~” I sang repeatedly for half an hour, until my throat was dry, but I didn’t give up. Finally, that mouse crept out from the corner again. I was delighted and crouched down to look at it. “Are you here to help me?” The mouse squeaked, its limbs twitching, and fell to the ground. Me: “…” I sat on the ground hugging my knees. Just as I was at a loss, I heard chaotic footsteps from above and Madame Tremaine’s shrill voice. “Oh my, Prince Henry, you’ve come personally! Heavens!” I looked up through the cracks in the wooden floor. The prince still carried that long sword from last night. He smiled and gestured for his attendant to press Victoria onto a chair. “Beautiful Lady Victoria, is this pair of glass slippers yours?” Victoria’s face turned red, and she nodded shyly. The attendant tried to put the shoe on Victoria’s foot, but her foot was too wide and wouldn’t fit no matter how they tried. Victoria became anxious. “I… I’m a bit swollen today.” “Is that so? But you must wear the shoe to become my princess.” The prince’s expression was cold. Hearing this, Victoria desperately tried to squeeze her foot into the shoe, her instep turning red from the effort. The prince laughed coldly and raised his sword. “Let me help you—” The prince’s blade fell, cutting off half of Victoria’s foot. She screamed and rolled on the ground, clutching her leg.

Everyone was terrified, but the prince acted as if nothing had happened and calmly turned to look at Isabelle. “Beautiful lady, is this pair of shoes yours?” Isabelle’s face was pale, but unable to suppress her desire to become a princess, she still nodded. This time, the prince cut off her heel. Blood sprayed everywhere, dripping through the cracks in the wooden floor. I was terrified, looking around frantically but finding nowhere to hide. Madame Tremaine screamed and went to embrace her two daughters. The prince put his sword to her throat. “Are there any other daughters in your house?” Madame Tremaine’s lips trembled. “No, no more…” Despite their severe injuries, both sisters gritted their teeth and insisted there was no one else in the house. The resolve of the mother and daughters to prevent me from becoming princess was unexpectedly strong. Thank you all. “What about young maids? None of those either?” Madame Tremaine continued shaking her head. The prince laughed and sat down in a chair, using a clean white cloth to wipe his long sword. “Well, isn’t that interesting!” The prince waved his hand, and his attendants scattered to search the house. Soon, Lord Roderick ran to the prince’s side. “Your Highness, the attic door is locked.” The prince looked at Madame Tremaine. “This is your last chance to live. Open the door.” The prince’s eyes were sharp, his tense jawline showing that his patience had reached its limit. Seeing Madame Tremaine standing still, Lord Roderick drew his sword. “Kill her. You all, go break down the door.” Only then did Madame Tremaine react, screaming and crawling towards the attic door. “I’ll open it, I’ll open it, don’t kill me—” The sound of keys and chains clashing rang out, and the attic door was forcefully pulled open. A beam of light shone diagonally into the attic. In the dusty beam of light, the prince stood before me with a wicked smile. “Ha, found you.”

The next moment, the smile froze on the prince’s face. My face was covered in ash, my eyes were crossed, and I asked him with a toothy grin: “Who ya lookin’ for, mister?” Prince: “…” The prince took a big step back in disgust. “Who are you?” “I’m the maid, Cinderella. Ain’t you a handsome fella, hee hee hee—” I reached out to touch the prince’s face. He frowned and swatted my hand away. “Someone, bring her up.” Two guards jumped down into the attic and hauled me up. Thanks to my stepmother’s mistreatment, I was wearing old clothes patched all over, my hair was full of straw, and my face had several red handprints, which indeed matched the image of a maid. Lord Roderick looked disappointed. “Your Highness, this girl doesn’t seem to be the one.” I had just breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the prince coldly order: “Put the shoe on her.” Damn it, he still suspects me. Where’s the basic trust and respect between people? I was pressed into a chair by several guards. Lord Roderick knelt on one knee, holding up the glass slipper. As soon as he lifted my long skirt, Roderick turned his head away in disgust. My feet were pitch black, covered in ash, with my five toes spread wide like sea anemones. The prince laughed coldly. “What happened to your feet?” I smiled ingratiatingly: “My toes are deformed, they’ve been like this since I was little.” “Is that so?” The prince paused for a moment, then suddenly reached out and pinched my calf hard. “Ah—” I screamed in pain, and my toes instinctively curled up. The prince sneered. “Look, all better now.” “Thank you, you’re so kind.” I wanted to cry but had no tears left as I watched Roderick stuff my foot into the glass slipper.

Of course, it fit perfectly—not too big, not too small, not too long, not too short. The glass slipper on my pitch-black foot looked as if it had been custom-made for me. Roderick looked awkwardly at the prince. “Your Highness, are you sure this girl is the one you’re looking for?” The two sisters, who had been rolling on the ground clutching their legs, hurriedly crawled over and said in unison: “There must be a mistake, she didn’t go out last night!” Madame Tremaine nodded along. “Yes, this is my maid. I locked her in the attic last night; she couldn’t possibly have attended the ball. Your Highness, she absolutely cannot be the girl you’re looking for.” The prince stared at Madame Tremaine for a while, then curled his lips into a smile. “Liars must swallow a thousand needles. “Roderick, bring out that box of needles.” What kind of psychopath carries around boxes of needles? Watching Roderick stuff silver needles as long as a pinky finger into Madame Tremaine’s mouth, I was so scared my legs went weak. Amidst the wailing of the mother and daughters, I was escorted onto a carriage by the guards. As the wheels rolled, two guards watched me vigilantly from the side. I couldn’t find any chance to escape. Soon, the majestic palace appeared before my eyes. “My dear Henry, have you found your beloved girl?” Queen Eleanor came out to greet us enthusiastically. Seeing my ash-covered face, the queen paused, a flash of horror crossing her eyes. “This is—” “Someone, take her away to clean up.” The prince acted as if he hadn’t seen the queen and ordered the people beside him. The queen circled around the prince, asking if his journey had been tiring and chattering endlessly. The prince coldly waved her away, turned to Roderick, and instructed: “Clean her up and bring her to see me.”

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