Category: English

My sister-in-law claimed to be a “prophet” and after a few accurate “predictions”, the whole family believed her without question. She said my savings would be stolen in a month, so my husband convinced me to transfer all my money. She said housing prices would plummet within six months, so my husband and mother-in-law forced me to sell the house my parents left me. When I was about to give birth, she even said the child in my belly was illegitimate and would bring disaster to the whole family! On a freezing winter night, my husband and mother-in-law kicked me out of the house without a second thought. In the end, my child and I died together. When I opened my eyes again, I heard my sister-in-law say: “Next month, all of my sister-in-law’s savings will be stolen. We must get her to hand over the money now.” 1 I looked at my sister-in-law’s pretentious expression, wishing I could tear her face off. But remembering I was three months pregnant, I held back. “That’s my own hard-earned money. It’s none of your business,” I said coolly. Margaret immediately narrowed her eyes and pointed at my nose, scolding, “What do you mean your money? You married into our Wilson family – your person, your money, it all belongs to my son!” “An orphan like you should be grateful to marry my son. How dare you talk back?” “It’s bad luck for a woman to manage money. Hurry up and hand it over!” I sat down and took a sip of water, replying calmly, “Aren’t you already in charge of most of Jack’s salary?” Margaret was speechless for a moment. My husband Jack quickly tried to smooth things over. “Sophia, Mom and Vanessa mean well. We’re all family, how could we harm you?” I looked at his hypocritical face, feeling nauseous. Family? I was the one being schemed against by this whole family! After I died, my soul floated in the air and saw many things. Only then did I realize Jack and Vanessa had been having an affair for a long time, with Margaret’s knowledge. The so-called “prophecies” were just an elaborate act they put on together to swindle my money and house. Thinking of my unborn child, thinking of how I died miserably on that snowy night, an overwhelming hatred nearly drowned me. In this life, I would make them pay blood for blood! “Sister, are you stupid?” Vanessa frowned and scolded when she saw I wasn’t moved. “We’re trying to help you out of kindness, but you’d rather be scammed than trust your own family!” Margaret put her hands on her hips, her expression even more sour and vicious: “Haven’t you learned your lesson? Last time Vanessa said you’d have a bloody disaster on your anniversary, you didn’t listen. What happened? You got hit by a car, didn’t you!” Yes, I was hit by a car. Multiple fractures all over my body, half dead, lying in the hospital for three months. Only after death did I realize it was all their plan. The pain of betrayal washed over me again. I clenched my fists tightly. I looked straight at Vanessa. “Sister, since you’re so prophetic, why don’t you tell me exactly how my money will be stolen? Give me some details so I can be prepared.” Vanessa clearly hadn’t expected me to ask this. Her face froze instantly. After stammering for a while, she became angry out of embarrassment. “I’m trying to help you. What kind of attitude is this?” “Then wait until you have a specific ‘prophecy’ before talking to me again.” “How dare you!” Margaret jumped up and down in anger. “Don’t think you’re so great just because you can earn a bit of money!” “If it weren’t for my son giving you the chance to go out and work, if it weren’t for Vanessa and me taking care of the house, how could you make any money?” “Your money should be ours. You should hand it over without us even having to ask!” I laughed bitterly at this shameless logic. “Which household bill – water, electricity, gas, daily expenses – haven’t I paid for? Has a single cent of Jack’s salary been used for the family?” “As his wife, I’ve never spent a penny of his money. But Vanessa, even the money for your underwear was paid by Jack, wasn’t it?” I had always been mild-mannered. No one expected me to bring this up so directly. Vanessa’s face instantly turned pale. Jack looked so embarrassed he wanted to find a hole to crawl into. Margaret suddenly came forward and shoved me hard. My lower back hit the corner of the table. I broke out in a cold sweat from the pain, but not a single person came to check on me. “What’s wrong with Jack helping his widowed sister-in-law?” Margaret sneered. “Don’t think you can ride roughshod over me and your sister-in-law just because you’re pregnant. If you give birth to a girl, I’ll throw her in the sewer right away. We don’t need that kind of bad luck in the family!” My anger instantly shot to the top of my head. I grabbed the glass of water on the table and smashed it at Margaret’s feet. “If anything happens to my child, you’ll be the first one I take down with me!” We had a huge argument, with Jack eventually coming out to smooth things over and make peace. That night, Jack walked into the bedroom with a bottle of red wine, pretending to comfort me and urging me to drink. I stared at him steadily. “Can pregnant women drink alcohol?” Jack’s expression froze for a moment before he quickly started making excuses with a smile: “This is imported non-alcoholic wine, basically fancy grape juice. It’s good for blood circulation and calming nerves. It’s good for pregnant women.” I didn’t expose him. I obediently drank that glass of cheap wine laced with drugs, pretending to pass out on the bed. Jack immediately used my fingerprint to unlock my phone. Margaret and Vanessa poked their heads in. Greedy expressions of triumph spread across all three of their faces. “I’ve already arranged it with Old Liu. Tomorrow he’ll show her my big gold bracelet.” “I’ve ordered the latest designer bag. Just waiting to pay the final installment.” “Once she has no money left, she’ll have to obey us and be our housekeeper!” I lay there with my eyes closed, listening to their ugly whispers, laughing coldly in my heart. Jack saw the balance in my account and his eyes widened: “Why is there no money at all?!” “And there’s a 200,000 dollar debt to the bank!” 2 Margaret and Vanessa’s faces instantly turned white. They jumped up and down anxiously. “My big gold bracelet!” “My bag! How will I pay the final installment!” “Where’s the money?!” Jack’s eyes were bloodshot. Like a wild beast gone mad, he pounced on me and grabbed my shoulders, shaking me violently. “Where’s my money? What did you do with the money?!” He started frantically ransacking the room, throwing my clothes, jewelry, and personal belongings everywhere. The whole room looked like it had been looted. I had already transferred the money and taken out a $200,000 loan on top of that. I wanted to make Vanessa’s “prophecy” come true. I collapsed on the floor, hugging my head and crying regretfully: “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have doubted Vanessa… I was scammed…” “Now I even owe the bank 200,000. What should we do…” I looked up with tearful eyes, helplessly looking at them: “Aren’t we family? Margaret, didn’t you say my money is your money? Now that I’m in debt, this debt… shouldn’t it be our debt too?” Vanessa was the first to jump out: “I don’t have any money!” Jack shrugged: “All my salary goes to Mom. I don’t have any money.” Margaret folded her arms across her chest, looking at me with a harsh expression: “You jinx! You were stupid enough to get scammed, why should we pay your debts? Dream on! Our Wilson family doesn’t need a daughter-in-law like you who brings bad luck!” “I don’t care if you have to sell your blood or your body or your organs. Pay off the debt yourself.” “If debt collectors come harassing us, I’ll be the first to push you out to pay them off.” “You hear me?!” They stormed out, slamming the door behind them. A few days later, Vanessa came to find me again with her “good intentions”. “Sophia, my eyelid has been twitching these past few days. I foresee that your house… will lose a lot of value within six months.” As soon as she finished speaking, Margaret and Jack started pressuring me in unison to sell the house my parents had left me before marriage. I flatly refused: “Not selling.” Margaret smashed a cup and started cursing: “Are you deaf? When I tell you to sell, you sell. Who are you to refuse?” “This house should have belonged to our Wilson family in the first place. How dare you act like you’re in charge?” While Margaret played the bad cop, Vanessa played good cop: “Sophia, I’m really doing this for your own good. Have you forgotten what happened with the money last time?” Before I could respond, Margaret said smugly: “It’s too late to refuse. I’ve already collected the deposit.” “The buyers are at the door.” She opened the door directly and brought in two people to view the house. “Don’t come in!” I blocked the doorway. Margaret immediately sat down on the floor and started wailing and making a scene: “Oh heavens! My daughter-in-law is trying to beat this old woman to death! Come quick, look! She’s abusing me!” “This ungrateful wretch, taking advantage of her pregnancy, not giving me food to eat or a place to sleep. Now she wants to kick me out. I can’t go on living!” Onlookers who didn’t know the truth started pointing fingers at me. “She’s pregnant herself but still so hot-tempered. Aren’t you afraid of karma affecting your child? What a vicious heart!” “Look at her. She must be a tyrant at home. Marrying a daughter-in-law like this is really bad luck for eight generations.” Jack grabbed my arm, looking impatient: “Stop blocking the way. Mom’s already taken the money. Just let them take a look.” “Don’t make a scene in the doorway and embarrass yourself.” I didn’t budge. Vanessa pretended to persuade me, her eyes full of vicious calculation: “Sophia, don’t be stubborn. You’ll cry when the house price drops. Haven’t you experienced the consequences of not listening to my prophecies?” 3 I had indeed experienced it. In my previous life, just because she said my child was a harbinger of disaster, I was kicked out of the house by them. On a snowy night below -30°C, I was wearing only a thin nightgown. The child in my belly seemed to feel the bone-chilling cold too, kicking me desperately. I felt like the cold would freeze both me and my baby to death. I knocked on the door frantically. My nails broke, my palms bled. I cried and begged them to open the door. But through the doorway camera, I heard the happy laughter of the whole family inside. “Let her freeze to death out there!” “Better if it’s two lives lost. Save us the bad luck!” That’s how I was frozen to death in endless cold and despair. “I know what you’re up to. The house – I will never sell!” I looked coldly at Margaret. Margaret felt guilty under my gaze, but still bristled up. She started yelling without thinking: “You really don’t care about your family at all, do you?” “Where will we get money if we don’t sell the house? My ten big gold necklaces, your sister-in-law’s bag, and the money Jack lost in stocks – how will we make that up?” After she finished speaking, she realized she had let something slip. Vanessa quickly tried to smooth things over: “Mom’s just talking nonsense because she’s upset. Sophia, it’s mainly because of my prophecy. You can’t not listen!” They had planned this long ago. Before I could respond, they directly took out my property deed and tried to hand it to the two house viewers. I rushed over to stop them. Margaret shoved me hard. I fell onto some broken glass. Multiple cuts instantly appeared on my body. A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen. I clutched my belly, looking at Jack in pain. Jack scolded his mom: “Mom, you’ve gone too far.” I thought Jack still had a shred of conscience at that moment. But after steadying Margaret, he frowned at me instead: “Don’t fight with your mom. After they finish viewing the house, I’ll take you to the hospital.” My heart died completely in that moment. I turned to the couple who had been frightened by the scene. “If you dare buy this house, I’ll die right here today. Two lives lost.” The two of them shouted about bad luck, took back their deposit, and ran away. I took out my phone myself and called 91 Margaret was still holding onto the property deed and refusing to return it. I gave Jack an ultimatum. “Give me back the property deed. Otherwise, we’re getting divorced.” “According to marriage law, this is my premarital property. All of you, get out of here!”

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When I was seven, I got lost in the mountains with my parents and was raised by a community living wild in the mountains. At fifteen, my parents found me. But I couldn’t fit into human society. It was my twin sister who patiently guided me. When my wild side flared up, hurting people and getting me ostracized, She shielded me with her frail body, took a beating so bad she coughed up blood, and was left with a chronic illness from that day on. For her, I pushed myself to study, got into a top university, and joined a special department thanks to my ability to communicate with animals. At twenty-three, My sister excitedly told me, “Sis, I really love him.” “He took 99 lashes for me; we’re going to be so happy.” But less than a month later, I received a video from my parents. My sister, covered in wounds, her face a pulpy mess, lay in a coffin, her severed limbs beside her. In that moment, my long-suppressed wildness exploded. All I wanted was to find the person who killed my sister and rip them to shreds!

When I arrived at the scene, my sister, her eyes frozen open in terror, lay silently in the coffin. The coffin lid next to her was covered in countless scratch marks, swirling in patterns. They screamed of how much pain and despair my sister had endured before she died. It was as if her cries for help were right there, echoing. “Sis, save me!” “I’m sorry.” All my strength drained, and I collapsed to my knees, my veins throbbing as my hands clawed at the dirt. Sharp pebbles cut into my palms, and only that searing, agonizing pain kept me from losing all sanity. Slowly, I pieced her broken body parts back together. “You beasts! The Blackwood family has gone too far!” My parents, who arrived shortly after, roared in heart-wrenching anguish at the sight. My mother even had a heart attack and passed out on the spot. She couldn’t even attend the funeral. In the mourning hall, My dad kept whispering to my sister. “Don’t trust men so easily over there, especially those who talk big but do nothing.” “What a nuisance. Why would he call me to a place like this?” A man’s impatient shouts drifted in from outside. My dad, roaring with grief and fury, snatched up the nearest heavy object and stormed out. “Brandon Blackwood, give me back my daughter’s life!” I immediately followed, seeing the man from my sister’s wedding photo, Brandon, with his fingers intertwined with another woman’s. That woman bore a faint resemblance to my sister. So he was just using her as a replacement! “Stop acting crazy, old man. Get your daughter out here!” Brandon disgustedly shoved my dad down and stepped on his face. “She’s dead! You’ll never see her again in this lifetime!” The woman next to Brandon giggled. “What a joke. Earlier, Sister was locked in with a venomous snake for three days, not only did she not die, but she acted disgusting, like she was with the snake.” “I advised her not to mess around with animals, but she didn’t listen and even pushed me. “Brandon was just thinking of teaching her a lesson by sending her to a monastery to reflect.” Hearing this, Brandon’s face turned terrifyingly dark. “That disgraceful slut! Was she that desperate?” He looked like he wanted to slice my sister into a thousand pieces with his eyes alone. “She made me lose all face with the Blackwood family!” Then, he looked around, raising his voice. “Cassidy, if you don’t show yourself, I’ll chop your dad into pieces and feed him to the dogs!” Having lived with all sorts of animals for so long, I’d seen countless times how out-of-control predators ripped apart their prey. Now, I saw that same savagery in Brandon. If I didn’t make myself known, he really would kill my dad in the most cruel and vicious way. “Dad.” I mimicked my sister’s manner, helping my dad up. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have doubted Brandon and Seraphina’s relationship.” Then, I turned and knelt, begging through tears. “Brandon, I know I’ve been bad. Please let me come home.” Brandon squatted down, his cold fingers brushing my cheek. “That’s more like it. As long as you’re obedient, the position of Mrs. Blackwood will always be yours.” I nodded hard, then told my dad to take care before hurrying to follow the two in front. “Cassidy.” My dad grabbed my hand, trembling all over. “Do… does it have to be this way?” His neck veins bulged as he spoke with effort. A father who had already lost one daughter didn’t want to lose another. My nose stung. For years, my sister had been taking care of them. She always said, “Sister is meant for great things.” “Let this little good-for-nothing take care of Mom and Dad.” “As long as Sister is happy, I’m happy.” But she had no idea that in my heart, she was the little sun that supported me through one danger after another. I never got to say thank you. I had saved so much for her dowry. We’d promised to watch the sunrise ceremony together, but we never went. And now she was gone, her body dismembered! So, even if it meant going through hell and high water, I would get justice for her! “I promise I’ll be fine.” I patted my father’s hand reassuringly, then turned and quickened my pace. Carrying a father’s helpless despair, I embarked on the path of revenge.

As soon as we returned to the Blackwood mansion, Brandon immediately ordered me to kneel and help Seraphina change her shoes. I was barely a second slow when he kicked me, sending me sprawling. “Useless trash! What good are you for? “Are you only good for acting like a slut and serving those animals?” Seraphina whined sweetly, “Brandon, don’t break my servant. Who will fan me when I sleep tonight?” I clenched my fists, my teeth grinding audibly. This was the life my sister had endured! To torment her, Brandon not only made her kneel in the room, listening to him and Seraphina have sex through a screen, Sometimes he even forced my sister to go in and hold Seraphina up so they could complete complicated positions. When they finished, my sister had to clean up their disgusting mess. In the middle of summer, when they could easily have turned on the air conditioning, Seraphina, citing her allergies, made my sister stay up all night, fanning her manually. My sister initially resisted, but the consequence was Brandon taking out his anger on our parents. First, they were falsely accused and suspended from their jobs without cause. Then, the news spread online, and some brainless fanatics harassed my parents in real life. Once, my mother was so traumatized she ended up in the hospital, almost not making it. From then on, my sister never dared to defy Brandon. She clung to life like a dog, barely surviving! She never told me about any of the pain or suffering she endured. Because of my work, I could only talk to her once in a long while. Yet, every time, she was always cheerful, never complaining once. She would even remind me to take care of myself and not worry, saying she would look after Mom and Dad. “This kind of slut would have gone bad ages ago. Everyone said not to take her, but some fortune teller insisted she’d bring wealth to the family.” “My old-fashioned dad forced me to marry her.” Brandon brought it up, looking like he wanted to tear my flesh off. “If it weren’t for her, I’d already be married to the woman I truly love.” “So you never loved her?” Sister, I stared at Brandon, asking each word slowly. My mind replayed my sister’s radiant smile when she said she was getting married. Little did she know that a beast had woven a deadly lie for her, Ending her young life forever in the summer she turned twenty-three. “Why would I care for a clingy leech? Just smelling her made me sick, and she kept dreaming of Cinderella and Prince Charming.” Brandon’s eyes looked at me like I was a maggot. Seraphina pretended to be kind, patting Brandon to signal him to stop, then reached out to me. “Sister, please get up.” I saw malice in her eyes, then brushed her hand away and stood up myself. I looked up, and a painting caught my eye. It was a nude painting of Seraphina. Her pale body lay on vibrant roses, beautiful and alluring. But I felt a chill run through me. Because the roses in that painting were painted with my sister’s blood. She hadn’t slept a wink, except for a brief moment of comfort, and every day she had to let Seraphina draw her blood for painting. If she was even a little slow, Brandon would lock her in a cage and force her to fight for food with wild dogs. Just imagining those scenes made me want to tear the two people in front of me to shreds. “You damn dare to glare at me!” Brandon furiously shoved me, sending me flying. I covered my swollen face, silent for a moment. Suddenly, I grabbed Seraphina. I opened my mouth and bit into the soft flesh of her neck. As she shrieked in terror, I slowly increased the pressure. The taste of blood surged through my nerve endings. Every cell screamed, “Kill her.” Brandon saw my mouth covered in blood and finally reacted. He pulled me off forcefully. I spat the bitten-off piece of flesh onto his face. “Crazy bitch! Send her to the monastery! This time, unless I say so, she can die there for all I care!” Brandon roared, enraged. As I was dragged away, I smiled. I was just looking for an excuse to go back to that place.

The monastery in the desolate mountains wasn’t as simple as it looked; beneath it lay a fully equipped, well-staffed laboratory. It was funded by the Blackwood family, specifically for researching how to extend human lifespan. But their test subjects weren’t animals; they were people! When I arrived, I was locked in a tiny, airtight room. A few burly men, laughing obscenely, entered. “You didn’t die last time, even with all that fun. This time, I’ve got something special.” The man held up a pair of obstetric forceps. My stomach clenched, and a video recording appeared before my eyes. My sister’s hysterical screams instantly pierced my ears. She was tied to a bed, and the man standing between her splayed legs held obstetric forceps, laughing as he pulled and twisted. In that moment, all my blood froze. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. My sweet, obedient sister, the sister who always saved a share for me, the sister who said we’d be sisters forever! She was tortured to death, little by little, by them! “Animals!” I roared, lunging at the man, snatching the forceps, and violently stabbing them into his eye. “Ah!” Blood mixed with shattered bits of eyeball splattered out, and the small room filled with the man’s horrific screams. The others reacted, trying to grab me. But I had been raised by wild people; I’d long since developed immense strength. They outnumbered me, but that just meant it would take one more minute. After knocking everyone down, I grabbed one of them by the collar. “Do you want to live?” The man nodded frantically. “Do exactly what you see in the video to them.” I pointed at the screen still playing on the wall. The men immediately wailed, frantically kowtowing and begging for mercy. “We were just following orders! Please spare us!” “We even tried to persuade him back then, but he cursed at us and said he had to use the most extreme methods to teach you a lesson.” “If you want to settle scores, go after the Blackwoods. He even planned to inject you with a newly developed drug that supposedly makes a person rot into a watery mess, little by little.” “Spare you?” I smiled, toying with a small knife. “Did you show any mercy when you laid hands on me?!” With that, I plunged the knife into the thigh of the man I held. “Do it or not?” The man screamed, “Yes! Yes! W-w-w-w-I’ll do it!” I pulled a chair over and sat down. The man began to act. Screams echoed endlessly in the room. I watched with cold eyes, occasionally whistling. As time passed, the men passed out. Body parts lay on the floor, and the white tiles were stained red. A stench of blood and decay permeated the air, making me sick to my stomach. I pointed at the man who had done the deed. “Clean it up. Don’t let Brandon notice any trace, or your end will be a hundred times worse than theirs.” The man had already witnessed my methods and dared not defy me. He cleaned the scene in the shortest possible time. Soon, the small room was restored to its clean, white state. I lay on the bed, waiting for Brandon’s arrival.

A week later was Mr. Blackwood’s birthday. My sister, as the only publicly acknowledged wife of the Blackwood family, was naturally expected to attend. So Brandon sent people to pick me up. Compared to when I entered, I was so thin the wind could blow me over, and my gaunt face with two hollow, dark eye sockets was especially eerie. Brandon looked pleased. “Looks like you received excellent hospitality.” Brandon lifted my sleeve; my arm was covered in self-inflicted cuts. I had made them to suppress my restless, animalistic urges. Indeed, Brandon smiled even more brightly, grabbing and excitedly kissing Seraphina beside him. They intertwined, making intimate, swallowing sounds. I kept my head bowed, expressionless, calculating how much longer I needed to torture them. The birthday gala was about to begin. Brandon stopped his intimacy with Seraphina just in time. “Darling, I’ll come find you later.” Brandon went to the next room to change. Seraphina stayed behind, circling me. “Still not enough. How about this?” She grabbed my chin, lifting it. “Tonight’s gala has a lot of media here. It would be absolutely scandalous if the Blackwood family’s wife performed a strip show right in front of everyone.” Seraphina clapped excitedly and called Brandon. “Brandon, I’ve thought of something super fun! Come quick!” After hearing Seraphina’s plan, Brandon dotingly praised her. “See? I told you my darling was brilliant.” Seraphina laughed triumphantly, wrapping her arms around Brandon’s waist. “I just worry your dad might not be happy.” “He won’t be. He already has a thing for that piece of trash. We’ll let him have his fun with her later, it’ll make him ecstatic.” Brandon’s gentle voice sounded like a demon’s whisper. In his eyes, my sister was just an object to be discarded at will. Worse than a rat in a sewer. I suppressed my rising fury and stood up. “Who told you to move! Kneel!” Brandon’s face contorted, and he kicked out. I nimbly twisted my body to avoid it. At that moment, someone pushed the door open. They carried a rectangular object wrapped in black cloth. Then they placed it beside me. “Who are you guys? And what is this?” The men carrying the object ignored Brandon, bowing respectfully to me. I waved them off, signaling they could leave. One of them said, “My superiors believe you shouldn’t dirty your hands with such worthless people.” I nodded, indicating I understood. Brandon, seeing them leave, chased after them, cursing a few times. Then he returned, pointing a finger at my nose, demanding, “Those were your lovers, weren’t they?” “How utterly disgusting. You’re just a slut through and through.” I ignored him, pulling back the black cloth. A vibrant red coffin came into view. Under their astonished gazes, I chuckled softly, speaking as if coaxing a three-year-old child. “The hunting game begins now. Welcome to hell!” “Are you insane!” Brandon snapped back, his face darkening as he approached. “What’s the meaning of bringing a coffin to my dad’s birthday?”

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I Died. Then I Saw Everything. The day I died, my boyfriend brought his first love home. They kissed shamelessly on the sofa I bought, ate the special savory dumplings I’d made, and played on the gaming console I’d given him. One day, his first love, Celeste, asked curiously, “Where’s Anya?” Dorian’s voice was calm, “She got into an argument with me a few days ago, then applied for a business trip.” Oh, he still didn’t know I was dead. On Dorian’s birthday, I was in a car accident on my way back, and I died on the spot. My soul floated above, wanting to see Dorian one last time. Just then, I saw Dorian bring his first love, Celeste, back to *our* home. In the dim light, Celeste’s fair face was flushed, as if she were deeply drunk, clinging to Dorian, her body limp against his. “Dorian, Dorian…” He steadily held her waist, brushed away her messy hair, and patiently responded to her every call. Dorian, usually so distant, reserved that tenderness only for her. Seeing this, even though I was prepared, my heart still ached. Ever since Dorian found out about Celeste’s divorce, he’d been distracted, coming home less and less, growing colder towards me. I’d found out that Celeste’s ex-husband’s company had gone bankrupt, and he’d fled with the money. Celeste only discovered she was pregnant after the divorce, and debt collectors hounded her daily, scaring her into multiple near-miscarriages. Dorian had been with her at the hospital all these days. I argued with Dorian because he wanted to bring Celeste home to care for her. “Celeste’s parents once helped me out. I can’t not help her.” My eyes were red, “Is that the only reason?” Dorian was silent for a moment, then suddenly extinguished his cigarette. “I promised I’d marry you.” “Anya, what exactly are you so insecure about?” What was I insecure about? Dorian knew, deep down, but he pretended not to. That night, I suddenly lost control, and for the first time, I suggested we break up. Dorian’s face grew darker. Without a word, he carried me into the bathroom, turning on the shower. “Do you know what you just said?” I trembled, hugging myself, his tall shadow looming over me. He ripped off my shirt buttons, almost punishingly biting my lips. “Anya, never talk about breaking up with me.” Cold water poured over my head, his hot breath grazed my neck, and his face blurred before my eyes. “Celeste is only staying for a while. Once the police find her ex-husband, I’ll send her back.” He whispered close to my ear, “There’s really no future for her and me.” I gasped for breath, struggling, closing my eyes and threatening, “To get me to agree, I’d have to be dead.” And then, I really died. Dorian really brought Celeste back.

I watched Dorian place the drunken Celeste on the sofa and wipe her face with a hot towel. “…You’re pregnant. You shouldn’t drink so much.” He spoke in a low voice, yet his tone was gentle, just like he used to scold her for not paying attention in class. Celeste didn’t seem to hear, muttering about a headache. Dorian chuckled softly, helping her up, his long fingers pressing gently on her forehead, from her brow to her temples, then behind her ears. It was a tender scene, and my heart tightened, as if it had stopped for a few seconds, then furiously started beating again. For a moment, I was lost in thought. Back when we’d just graduated college, Dorian’s grandmother passed away. And Celeste’s parents, due to Dorian’s family background, refused to let them be together, forcing Celeste into an arranged marriage. During those six gloomy months, I stayed by Dorian’s side, helping him through it all, little by little. Six months later, he accepted my confession. Later, he decided to start his own business and often went out for drinks. I would clean him up, cook him hangover soup, and take care of him all night long. The next day, my eyes would be dark, looking utterly exhausted. Dorian would gaze at me for a long time, sigh, and then have me lay my head on his lap, massaging my temples. I was a little overwhelmed, yet the gentle pressure was so comforting that I started acting playfully. “Dorian, you’re not allowed to massage anyone else’s head, okay?” As soon as I said it, I regretted it. Just as I was about to backtrack, I heard Dorian chuckle softly above me: “Okay.” He said, “Okay.” But. Of course, Celeste wasn’t “anyone else.” I was just a sudden exception for Dorian, while she was, and always had been, his preference.

Suddenly, I felt like I should leave this place. I couldn’t even stand watching Dorian massage Celeste. What if they rekindled their old flame one day? What if they hugged? Kissed? What if… The thought alone sent a searing pain through my chest, like ants crawling up my spine, making me restless. I frantically ran towards the door. But the moment I touched it, a sudden, tearing pain shot through me, even worse than the car crash, worse than being smashed to pieces after falling from a cliff. I couldn’t even scream. My body was yanked back. After several attempts, my face was ashen white, drenched in cold sweat, and I finally realized something— I couldn’t leave this house. Or rather, I couldn’t leave Dorian. Instantly, all my strength left me. I numbly continued to watch the two of them. Dorian had finished massaging Celeste and was about to leave when a hand hooked around his neck. Celeste opened her eyes. Their eyes met. “Dorian, do you still like me?” Celeste asked directly. Dorian stared into her eyes. “I hate you.” Celeste’s face paled. His palm rested on her cheek, his thumb tracing her skin inch by inch, as if with a sigh, “But I’ve also never forgotten you.” I curled my lips mockingly. A smile bloomed across Celeste’s face, lighting up her eyes. Then, as if she suddenly thought of something, her gaze flickered, “What about Anya? She’s been with you for five years. What do you feel for her?” Dorian paused, parting his lips, but said nothing. The atmosphere suddenly fell silent. Celeste’s expression subtly shifted, her eyes scrutinizing him. The next second, she tilted her neck slightly and kissed the corner of his lips. Dorian’s body stiffened noticeably, but only for a moment. He quickly took control, his large hand scooping her waist to pull her onto his lap, his fingers clasping the back of her head, deepening the kiss. A wave of nausea instantly rushed to my head. I clamped my hand over my mouth, afraid my churning stomach would rise into my chest. “Dorian, he’s already abandoned me. Don’t you abandon me. I don’t want to be alone.” Celeste gasped for breath, pleading against his lips. “I know you only feel gratitude and guilt for her; the one you truly love is me…” Celeste’s kiss moved to his collarbone, pausing slightly, then her hand reached for the buttons of his shirt— Dorian suddenly pressed down on her hand. “No.” His voice was cold and deep, his eyes equally frigid. A chill emanated from him, spreading outwards, making even my soul, which felt no temperature, shiver. Celeste stared at him blankly, as if she hadn’t expected to be rejected. “Is it because of Anya that—” I stared at him blankly too, my heart pounding uncontrollably and wildly. Dorian was silent for a while, then lowered his eyes, his expression unreadable. “Celeste, I have a girlfriend right now.” “This isn’t good for you.” Celeste understood, and the corners of her lips curled up slightly. “I’ll wait for you.” I understood too, and laughed mockingly. Dorian meant that as long as we hadn’t broken up, he and Celeste wouldn’t cross any substantial lines. This wasn’t about his character, nor was it out of respect for me, his official girlfriend. He just didn’t want Celeste to bear any stain or moral condemnation. He cherished and protected her so much. Laughing, large tears began to fall.

After tucking Celeste into bed, Dorian went to the balcony to smoke alone. He stood tall and refined, his body almost merging with the night, only the glow of his cigarette tip shining faintly. His face was almost expressionless, his thumb repeatedly rubbing the cigarette, which meant he was extremely agitated. I was forced to hover less than two meters away from him, watching him coldly. He and the woman he loved had already confessed their feelings for each other; I didn’t know why he was still agitated. Oh, right, we hadn’t broken up yet. Perhaps it was because of what happened earlier, unfulfilled desire. I thought. Suddenly, his phone chimed. Dorian almost immediately opened his phone, his deep, dark eyes fixed on the screen. The next second, a hint of disappointment flickered in his eyes. My curiosity piqued. I floated behind him, shamelessly peeking at his screen. What I saw made me freeze— Dorian had opened his SnapChat chat with *me*. Since that big argument, we hadn’t contacted each other. The last chat message was from me: “Comrade Dorian’s birthday is in seven days! What gift do you want?” Perhaps he was too busy with work that day, or perhaps he was taking care of Celeste at the hospital, but he hadn’t replied. Now, Dorian’s fingers unconsciously scrolled up and down, refreshing SnapChat, as if doing so would make a message appear from the other side. I wasn’t sure how to react. In a daze, Dorian had already sent a SnapChat message. Dorian: “It’s eleven-thirty.” In an instant, I understood his reminder. It was 11:30 PM. His birthday was almost over. I, his girlfriend, who hadn’t missed his birthday for five years, who always cooked him longevity noodles and vegetable potstickers, hadn’t even wished him a happy birthday this year. But I wouldn’t anymore. Never again. Because I was already dead.

Dorian stood on the balcony for a full thirty minutes. When he returned to the living room, shrouded in a chilling aura, his face was already grim. He stared at his phone screen for two more seconds, then irritably tossed it onto the sofa. His long strides carried him to the fridge, where he pulled out a bag of the vegetable potstickers I had made last time but hadn’t eaten, specially freezing them. He thawed the potstickers with a blank expression, cooked them, then sat at the dining table, head bowed, eating them slowly and deliberately, one by one. The hazy grey smoke curled around his brow bone, making him appear even more distant and cold. Watching him quietly eat the potstickers, a thought suddenly popped into my head. Dorian… he probably cared about me a little. I was surprised, then it dawned on me. Actually, strictly speaking, today wasn’t Dorian’s real birthday. Dorian’s actual birthday was a week ago. But five years ago, on that very day, Dorian’s grandmother passed away, and Celeste also left him. From then on, Dorian didn’t want to celebrate his birthday. It was my idea to move his birthday back a week. And it was always me, relentlessly enthusiastic, who would arrange his birthday celebrations. I was an orphan. At the orphanage, my birthday was the happiest day of the year. I just wanted him to be a little happier too. The first time I celebrated his birthday, I secretly spent months learning a game he loved to play. I planned to stay up all night playing with him, but I fell asleep on his lap at 2 AM. When I woke up, Dorian was above me, arms crossed, his usually stoic eyes curved in a half-smile, “All-nighter, huh?” The second time, I cooked a huge dinner table, cutting several of my fingers, and only the longevity noodles and vegetable potstickers were edible. Dorian ate everything, though, and even he, usually so quiet, praised the potstickers several times. I was always one to seize an opportunity, so I puffed out my chest, “Your heart isn’t good, and these potstickers are my special recipe, packed with ingredients that are good for your heart, so I studied really hard to get the perfect shape and taste.” Dorian looked at me for a long time then. “Anya, why are you so good to me?” I smiled, “Because I like you! I really, really like you.” Before I could confess more, Dorian cupped my jaw and leaned in to kiss me. Dorian always hid his emotions, but that was the first time I felt such an overt, intense emotion from him. Then we tumbled into bed. That night, we were both so clumsy, exploring each other. But later, he seemed to become a natural, his hands gripping my waist, his deep, dark eyes reflecting my tear-stained face. He was silent but fierce, late into the night. But it turns out, my stubborn persistence worked. The third and fourth times I celebrated his birthday, Dorian just went along with it. It made me think that five years of devoted care and constant companionship must have left some mark on his heart.

A “clink” brought my wandering thoughts back. Dorian seemed to be lost in thought too, not even noticing the spoon that had fallen to the floor. I instinctively leaned down to pick it up, but my non-corporeal hand passed right through the spoon. I froze for a moment. Then the spoon was picked up by another hand. “What are you eating?” Celeste’s soft voice filled the room. I spread my palms, looking at these hands that were growing fainter, almost unable to solidify, then looked at Celeste’s long, fair hands. Suddenly, I felt a pang of insecurity. My hands used to be beautiful before I died. Now I could cook a full meal, effortlessly complete games, but now I couldn’t even touch anything. “What flavor are these dumplings? They smell so strange.” Celeste picked up another spoon and slowly stirred the dumplings in Dorian’s bowl. Dorian’s brow furrowed slightly, but he still replied, “Vegetable.” Celeste nodded indifferently, then looked up at Dorian, “Why did Anya say today was your birthday?” Dorian flinched. Celeste smiled candidly, “Your phone was on the sofa just now, I glanced at your chat history.” Then she added, “I can’t believe your lock screen password hasn’t changed, 0802, the day we first met.” Dorian looked down, and I couldn’t see the expression in his eyes. My heart still twisted slightly. I used to playfully ask Dorian to change his lock screen password to the day we got together, but he always refused. It was because of her, after all. “Hurry, answer my question. Why did Anya say today was your birthday?” I stared coldly at Celeste. Dorian had promised me that this was a secret between just me and him, that he wouldn’t tell anyone— “A lot of bad things happened on that day five years ago, so she suggested postponing my birthday by a week, finding ways to celebrate it for me.” His familiar voice was as low and calm as ever. I bit down hard on my tongue, a bitter, metallic taste welling up and spreading through my mouth. Suddenly, I wanted to laugh, at myself. Celeste was silent for a moment. “She really was good to you.” “These dumplings are hers too? Made specifically for your birthday?” “Yes.” “You rushed me to sleep just to eat these? To keep a promise with her?” Dorian didn’t answer. Silence settled. Celeste quickly scooped up a dumpling, then suddenly said, “I want to eat it.” “No!” I screamed, a desperate, raw sound. No one heard me. I reached out to grab her spoon. I couldn’t touch it. Dorian’s gaze darkened. He grabbed her wrist, warning softly, “Celeste.” Celeste stared into his eyes, repeating each word, “I want to eat it.” “Dorian, from now on, I’ll be with you for every one of your birthdays.” She was forcing him to choose. Dorian’s jawline tightened, a flicker of struggle in his dark eyes. After what felt like an eternity, he slowly released Celeste’s hand. Celeste ate the dumpling, as she wished. I watched, numb, tears endlessly spilling from my eyes. It felt like knives carving into my heart, tearing flesh, bleeding profusely. This wasn’t just about dumplings. This wasn’t just about dumplings. These past few days, I’d hovered in the corner, watching them indifferently, feeling as though all emotion had left me. But I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, after that incident, Dorian’s attitude towards Celeste seemed much colder. Aside from playing games together, he had no other intimate gestures with Celeste, even deliberately avoiding her touch. One day, Celeste suddenly asked, “I always forgot to ask, where’s Anya?” Dorian paused, his voice calm, “She got into an argument with me a few days ago, then applied for a business trip.” Celeste laughed, “So many days without contact, maybe she already wanted to break up with you.” Dorian’s eyes darkened, utterly certain: “Impossible.” As he spoke, he instinctively pulled out his phone, looking at his chat with me. A rare hint of unease and anxiety appeared between his brows. Oh, he still didn’t know I was dead. I suddenly became curious about his reaction when he did find out. The next day, Dorian received a package from me. —It was the engagement ring he’d given me. A month ago, Dorian and I were at a restaurant. Halfway through the meal, the man sitting opposite me suddenly stood up, pulled out a ring without warning, and knelt on one knee.

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Just before I took my last breath, I finally agreed to sign the divorce papers. Ten years of love couldn’t withstand one taunt from his first love. I clutched the pen and died in Jack’s arms. Jack, who had patiently asked me for divorce 100 times after our marriage, Broke down crying uncontrollably after my death. Later, he took my ashes and disappeared into the sea. Just before the waves engulfed him, he said: “Lucy, I was wrong. If there’s another life, I’ll make amends.” Perhaps moved by his words, when I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the fifth year after we first met. Looking at the completely changed Jack before me, I finally understood. Maybe our ending was too tragic in the previous life, so in this life he just wanted to choose the path he truly desired. But when I was lying in the hospital bed again, He cried until his eyes were red, cursing himself over and over for being useless. “Who do you choose, me or her?” Mia clung to Jack’s arm, dragging her suitcase. Though phrased as a question, her tone left no room for doubt about the answer she expected. I stared blankly ahead, muttering, “The feelings were never that deep anyway. No need to pretend to be heartbroken.” Jack looked up sharply at me. “What did you say?” I jolted, meeting his gaze. His eyes swirled with complex emotions – Suppressed feelings, reluctance to let go, and the joy of reunion after a long separation. With just that one look, I knew he had come back too. I looked at this man who had tormented each other for ten years in our past life. Fighting the pain in my chest, I opened my trembling lips: “I said…” Mia impatiently cut me off. “God, you’re so annoying!” She stepped forward, jabbing my shoulder with her long, manicured nails. “Someone like you, apart from your pretty face, is completely ordinary in every other way. Just finish school like a good girl and don’t covet what isn’t yours.” In the past, I would have argued endlessly with Mia. But now I knew that no matter what, Jack would always take Mia’s side. Forget it. Looking past Mia, I saw Jack’s pained expression. She turned and linked her arm through Jack’s, her eyes glinting slyly. “Let’s go. My dad is waiting for us. I heard their new drug research is making progress…” Jack’s brow furrowed, then he spoke in a cool voice: “This kind of life is too cloying. Mia and I rented an apartment near campus. You can come visit sometime if you’d like.” With that, the two of them turned and left. The 20-year-old Jack was just like the 25-year-old Jack. For Mia’s sake, he abandoned me again without hesitation. It made sense. Given another chance at life, he surely didn’t want to repeat past mistakes. Tears welled up in my eyes. Emma beside me mistakenly thought I was crying because of them. She rolled up her sleeves, ready to chase after them. I grabbed her sleeve to stop her. “Let it go, Emma. He’s choosing what he wants. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Jack turned back at my words. Though his expression remained calm, his eyes were turbulent, Full of sorrow and reluctance to part. I wiped away my tears, avoiding his gaze. I didn’t want to read too much into his thoughts. Then I pulled Emma with me back to the dorm. Ending our entanglement while there was still a chance to salvage things might not be such a bad thing. In our past life, to please Mia, He gave me 100 divorce papers after we married, Just to satisfy all of Mia’s unreasonable demands. Even in my final moments, one phone call from Mia was enough to draw him away from my hospital bedside. He simply didn’t love me anymore. I was foolish not to let go until my dying breath. Heaven took pity and gave us another chance, But no one asked if I wanted to go through it all again. I suddenly remembered Jack’s last words before he died: “Lucy, I was wrong. If there’s another life, I’ll make amends.” But no matter what he meant, I didn’t want to keep tormenting each other anymore. Lucy, don’t soften your heart. Lucy, don’t look back.

Suddenly I felt warmth trickling from my nose. I reached up to touch it – a streak of bright red. The same pitiful state as my past life… At least Jack didn’t see it. I spent the whole night processing the emotions of reliving this life. The next day I went to class with puffy eyes. Just as the bell rang, Jack slipped into the classroom. The 20-year-old him wasn’t as composed and mature yet. His fluffy head would often burrow into my arms like a puppy. But now, we could never go back to that. My heart ached at the thought. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even notice someone sit down beside me. Seeing no reaction from me, the person slammed their backpack loudly on the desk. I startled, finally turning to look. Jack’s face was scrunched up in annoyance, dark circles under his eyes. He ignored my gaze, burying his head in his arms like he was sulking. He quickly fell asleep, his breathing even. His phone kept buzzing on the desk. On impulse, I picked up his phone. I tried my birthday as the passcode. It worked – he hadn’t changed it. The first thing I saw was his chat with Mia. All the previous messages had been deleted. There was just one message from him: “Are you still mad?” Mia’s messages came flooding in one after another: “Who told you to sleep in the study last night!” “You said you were over Lucy!” “You promised me! Don’t blame me if I change my mind!” My hands trembled uncontrollably. I couldn’t help remembering countless nights in our past life, When Jack would rush off at Mia’s phone call. Even when I was on my deathbed, Mia only had to tell a small lie, And Jack abandoned me without hesitation. Though I had resolved to let go in despair, My heart still ached unbearably in this moment. I still couldn’t face the reality that he didn’t love me. But life is for living. This time, I refuse to watch the one I love treat me coldly again. I refuse to repeat the same mistakes. When Jack woke up, I was long gone. I thought avoiding him would keep things peaceful between us. But I didn’t expect to see Jack again so soon in the cafeteria. Even though I had told myself countless times to let go, Seeing him again still made me panic for a moment. In just a few days, the once sunny and cheerful Jack had changed drastically. He now spent his nights in bars and clubs, reeking of cigarettes and alcohol. At the moment, he had his arm around Mia, smiling down at her. He looked like the stereotypical rich playboy. He let his friends joke crudely: “Why bother eating here in the cafeteria, Mia? Don’t tell me you and Jack are looking for a new place to get frisky!” Amid the raucous laughter, Mia scolded coyly: “Don’t be silly. I just happened to have class today and wanted a change of scenery with Jack for lunch.” I had my back to them, But every word stabbed into my heart. Jack used to hate cafeteria food. In the past, he only came because I begged him to accompany me. Now he moved naturally, his arm around Mia as she leaned into him. He must be very happy now. This is good. It strengthens my resolve to leave.

I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms. Taking a deep breath, I stood up to leave. A voice stopped me in my tracks. “Is that Lucy?” Mia’s surprised tone drew everyone’s attention. My pride was trampled under her feet. She continued speaking: “Oh my god, you’ve gotten so thin! You need to eat more, or you’ll look even more pathetic and poor!” She shoved a plate of food in front of me. Jack’s smile faded as he finally broke his silence, his voice cold: “That’s enough, Mia. Let’s go.” Mia glared at Jack, her face darkening. But in the blink of an eye, she put on an innocent expression again. “Oh, okay!” Then she tilted the hot plate of food towards me, spilling it all over me. I couldn’t dodge in time and fell backwards onto the floor. Mia gasped dramatically, crouching down to help clean the food off me. Her sharp nails left bloody scratches all over my skin. I cried out in pain, trying to stop her: “Stop! Stop! It hurts! It really hurts!” The scratches from her nails were unlike normal cuts. They kept oozing blood in tiny beads. Jack rushed over, yanking Mia away. He frowned as he examined my wounds, his voice shaking: “How did this happen? Are you feeling unwell somewhere?” I pulled my wrist from his grasp, but before I could answer, Mia’s shrill voice cut in: “Jack! If you can’t keep your promise, don’t blame me for changing my mind!” Jack’s face darkened ominously. He seemed to be holding back his anger, on the verge of exploding. Their friends looked at my face and joked: “Hey Jack, she looks familiar. But lately I’ve seen her getting into some rich guy’s Porsche a lot.” At those words, Jack’s eyes flashed dangerously. He snapped his head up, fury and jealousy in his voice: “Whose car?” “Are you that desperate?” “Or do you only go for rich guys? How many backups do you have besides me?!” His accusations made me angry and hurt. He was the one who chose someone else, Yet I became the target of everyone’s criticism. But any explanation would be useless now. I struggled to stay calm, just looking at him steadily. I forced a smile and said: “So what if I did?” He violently flung my arm away. I stumbled backwards. Emma had just gotten her food when she saw this scene. She rushed over and shoved Jack hard. “Jack, what the hell is wrong with you!” When she picked me up, I had already passed out. A streak of red trickled from my nose. Jack was frozen in shock at the blood on my face. “How… how did this happen…” “It’s too early… no… this isn’t right…” He moved to carry me to the hospital. Mia dramatically collapsed to the ground, her voice urgent: “Jack! Think carefully!” Jack’s feet seemed rooted to the spot. Emma clutched me tightly, glaring viciously at the two of them. In the silence, Emma grit her teeth and used all her strength, Somehow managing to carry me on her back and push through the crowd to the hospital.

I was woken by Emma’s sobs. When she saw me open my eyes, she cried even harder. “How could you get sick? Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Why didn’t you come to the hospital sooner!” I tried to raise my hand to wipe her tears, But my body felt like it was on fire. I had no strength to lift my arm. The hospital room door was suddenly flung open with a bang. Jack rushed in. When he saw me lying pale and lifeless in the hospital bed, All the strength seemed to leave his body. He broke down sobbing. I lowered my eyes to look at his wretched state. Just like in our past life – too little, too late. Why? Emma thought Jack was faking his deep love after abandoning me. She got up and started shoving him out. The commotion attracted a doctor. Jack was forced out. My eyelids felt heavy. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My body was already so weak at this point. Even in this new life, fate hadn’t spared me. I felt like my strength was draining even faster this time. Before I could rest, Mia pushed open the door, her face full of disdain. What a lively day. She smiled smugly. “Lucy, did Jack come?” “Hah, you don’t really think he came to see you, do you?” She waved her wrist. “My wrist just twinged a little and he insisted on rushing me to the hospital.” I barely opened my eyes, my voice flat: “You’ve seen how pathetic I am. Now get out.” She seemed unsatisfied with my response and got angry. “Stop acting all high and mighty!” Then she seemed to think of something and sneered: “Aren’t you curious why he obeys my every word?” I stared at her intently. I knew she was blatantly flaunting Jack’s preference for her, But I still couldn’t help wanting to hear her say it again. She snorted derisively. “Aren’t you curious why someone as young as you got this disease?” My brows furrowed. The strange rapid progression of my illness this time had bothered me, but I never thought there was a reason. Hearing her words sent chills down my spine. “To tell you the truth, your illness is from drugs I had people put in your dorm water cup. It took time, but finally showed results, hahaha!” My mind was reeling. But she got more and more excited as she spoke. “I originally just wanted to teach you a lesson, but Jack felt bad for you! How could he feel bad for you! He clearly likes me! Back then I only joked about dating his friend as a prank! Who told you to show up in the middle!” Mia was nearly hysterical. “Don’t you deserve to die? Just enjoy… enjoy your last moments alive.” “Oh right, that idiot Jack actually believed me when I said I had medicine that could cure your illness, how hilarious hahaha…” SLAP! Emma rushed over and slapped her hard across the face, her eyes blazing red as she roared: “You murderer! You’ll pay for this!” Mia clutched her face, her expression turning vicious. “What can I possibly pay for! You bunch of nobodies, what power do you have to make me pay! It’s her own fault! She should never have appeared in Jack’s life in the first place!” I finally understood. In both lives, All my suffering came from Mia’s selfish desires.

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After Being Cheated On 100 Times, The Translator Wife Finally Realizes Something’s Wrong Adrian couldn’t believe his eyes as he stared at the SnapChat message from his wife, Olivia. “I pretended to be William’s girlfriend when we visited his parents. Does Simon know? He didn’t make a fuss?” Adrian’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure how to respond. Just then, a call came in from his manager. “Mr. Quinn, did you forget? You signed Olivia’s resignation letter yourself. When she left, she also left behind divorce papers.” Adrian’s face turned pale as he suddenly remembered that incident when Olivia had gone to the countryside with her male intern without telling him. On Olivia’s Instagram, the usually cold and professional translator was now showing off her linguistic talents in 18 languages, clearly trying to impress William’s relatives. The caption read: “My translator wife helped me impress the elders!” Adrian couldn’t help but leave a sarcastic comment: “How professional of you.” Seconds later, Olivia called, her voice sharp with anger: “Who told you to leave such a comment? How is William supposed to face his colleagues now?” “He was being looked down on back home, so as his boss, it’s normal for me to help him save face. If you keep making a scene and embarrassing me, we might as well get divorced!” Adrian laughed coldly and hung up. As if he cared about staying married to her anymore. He glanced at the calendar. In two days, the divorce cooling-off period would be over.

This was the first time Adrian had ever hung up on Olivia. In their five years of marriage, she had always taken advantage of his love, forcing him to compromise every time. If he showed even the slightest displeasure, she would never let it go. Sure enough, Olivia called back immediately. Adrian didn’t even bother to look at his phone before rejecting the call and blocking all of Olivia’s accounts. He glanced at the pair of tickets he had just purchased and asked the young woman at the counter, “Can you help me exchange these for a single ticket?” The girl looked confused. “But the couple’s ticket has such a big discount. Did your friend cancel?” Adrian smiled. “She can’t make it. Because she just died.” The ticket seller froze for a moment, then helped him exchange the ticket with a mix of sympathy and bewilderment. As Adrian scrolled through his WhatsApp, he suddenly saw a message from William in the work group chat: “Intern William @everyone: The post I just shared on Instagram was a joke. Thanks to Olivia for being so understanding. If I offended anyone, I apologize.” Offended who? This passive-aggressive apology was clearly a provocation aimed at Adrian! Adrian laughed coldly. He was about to put his phone away when he saw Olivia’s instant reply: “Everyone can tell you were joking. It’s good for young people like you to liven things up. No need to apologize. Only petty people would take offense.” With the head translator backing William, colleagues who had been lurking came out to suck up: “Yeah, that Instagram post was obviously a joke. We wouldn’t take it seriously. No need to apologize specifically.” “Thanks to William, we got to see Olivia’s amazing debate skills. Olivia is so impressive, I need to study every word!” “I bet that petty person is lurking right now. Geez, I don’t get how some people can be so petty!” The colleagues unanimously criticized Adrian for defending William in order to flatter their boss. What angered Adrian most were the junior managers he had personally trained and promoted. They cursed him the harshest while polishing their boss’s shoes the fastest. No wonder – Olivia was the company owner, and William was her precious darling. In their eyes, Adrian, who had invested his entire fortune to help Olivia start her business, was just a lovesick fool with a green hat who didn’t even know he was being cheated on. Adrian took a deep breath and left the group chat. He didn’t want to ruin his rare day off because of them. However, just as he was queuing up for the roller coaster, he received a FaceTime call from his assistant Zhang. Her tone was full of reproach: “Adrian, why aren’t you at the office yet? The international delegation is coming in two days. Where are your materials? When will you submit them to me? You know how important this reception is, don’t you?” Her words left Adrian confused. He frowned, “What delegation?” He had been working overtime for over half a month before the holiday, just to free up these few days to travel with Olivia. He clearly didn’t have anything scheduled for these days. Zhang impatiently said: “The delegation of professors from top art schools coming for academic exchange.” Adrian bit his lip in confusion: “Wasn’t that task assigned to William by Olivia?” “Yes, but William had to go back home for something urgent, so he’s on leave. Olivia said to have you take over. You need to come to the office right now to prepare.” Adrian laughed bitterly. The visiting professors were from 10 countries including the UK, Germany, the Netherlands, and Egypt. With William’s mediocre English skills, he could never handle hosting this delegation. But William had his eye on the opportunity to show off in front of top professors and leaders, so he begged Olivia to give him the task. At the time, Adrian said William couldn’t handle it, but Olivia indulged him and assigned the task to William anyway. Now that the visit was approaching and William hadn’t prepared anything, he wanted Adrian to clean up his mess! No wonder he suddenly took leave – he must have realized he couldn’t handle this important task. “Adrian, did you hear me? If you heard, hurry to the office.” Because Olivia always ordered Adrian around at work, even fresh graduates like Zhang now dared to command him! Adrian laughed coldly and said firmly, “I’m also on vacation, didn’t you know? I can’t make it back. I can’t take on this translation task. Tell Olivia to figure it out herself.” He hung up without giving Zhang a chance to respond. Taking her cheating intern to hide out in the countryside while making Adrian clean up the mess – she was really trying to ride all over him! Adrian sat down on the vertical drop roller coaster with a cold expression. Unexpectedly, five minutes later, the entire amusement park was broadcasting announcements to find him: “Mr. Adrian Quinn, your wife has an urgent matter and is looking for you. Please come to the park’s communication room to take a call as soon as you hear this announcement.” Adrian rolled his eyes. Olivia was really something… The announcements played over and over. With no choice, Adrian went to the park entrance and picked up the phone. Olivia’s furious voice nearly split his eardrum: “Adrian Quinn, have I given you too much face?”

“It’s me who’s given you too much f**king face. You’re even riding your boy toy on top of my head now!” I couldn’t be bothered to hold back anymore and snapped at her directly. There was a moment of silence on the other end before Olivia spoke again, suppressing her anger, “Adrian Quinn, what the hell is wrong with you? Such vulgar language, is this how you honor the 20 years of education your parents provided? Is this what you learned from all those years of study – to make unreasonable scenes?” “I already said I’d play with you next time. What are you still making a fuss about?” “You’d better go prepare for that professor delegation reception right now. If you mess it up, we’re through!” I clenched my fist tightly, “Fine, let’s be through then. I’ve wanted to end things with you for a long time!” Before I could finish speaking, I heard William calling Olivia from the background, “Olivia, mom’s calling you for dinner.” Then I heard Olivia’s voice become unprecedentedly gentle, “I’m just wrapping up some small matters. I’ll be right there.” Her tone turned icy cold again when she spoke to me, “What did you just say? I didn’t hear clearly.” I laughed coldly: “Olivia, listen carefully. I said you’ve found yourself a new mom in just half a day, huh? Better hurry, or your mom might get annoyed and smack you with that rolling pin.” “Oh right… I’m just being petty and fussy.” Olivia lowered her voice and roared: “People in the countryside always bully honest kids like William. As his mentor, what’s wrong with me helping him get some payback? You can’t expect everyone to be as cold-blooded and heartless as you!” “Adrian Quinn, you come back to the office right now and coordinate with the team receiving the visiting professor delegation. Otherwise, don’t blame me for ruining your reputation in the translation industry!” She cursed a few more times before hanging up. I stood in the stuffy, cramped communication room, listening to the dial tone with a feeling of desolation. I had made a huge mistake. I should have divorced Olivia long ago, back when she first started treating me coldly and ignoring my feelings. I lost all desire to play and was about to take a cab back to the hotel. The next second, messages flooded in until my phone was vibrating non-stop. Everyone was privately messaging me to come back to the office to work. Though it was an urgent matter where they needed my help, their tones couldn’t have been more disrespectful. The divorce certificate would be in my hands in two days. I couldn’t care less about the mess at Olivia’s company. I deleted that batch of fair-weather colleagues and opened the company app to submit my resignation. But as soon as I opened it, I saw the company’s announcement of my dismissal, with an attached notice criticizing my poor work performance and low moral character. I laughed. It was my first time seeing someone burn bridges before even crossing the river. Olivia really did love her little toy boy. I enjoyed myself for two days, then went straight to the office to pack up my things after getting off the plane. To my surprise, when I got to my office door, neither facial recognition nor my work badge could open it. I was confused when the door opened from inside. “Adrian, what are you doing here? Hurry to the airport! The team receiving the delegation left a long time ago!” William walked out of my office, wearing my watch on his wrist and drinking from my mug. Now he was even ordering me around! I shoved him aside and walked into the office. “It’s not your place to give me orders.” As soon as I entered, I saw that all my belongings had been cleared out. The trash can held photos of Olivia and me, along with the voice recorder and brooch she had given me. Yes, Olivia had loved me once. Those years when we started the business together were the most difficult but also the happiest. William caught my moment of distraction and deliberately exclaimed, “Oh Adrian, I forgot to mention, Olivia gave me this office. Your things were probably thrown out by the cleaners.” He stared at me intently, hoping to see me explode or go crazy. But I smiled at him and glanced casually at the trash can. “Thanks for throwing out this garbage for me. Saves me from getting my hands dirty.”

“Adrian Quinn, why are you still here? The delegation is about to arrive!” Olivia’s face was as cold as iron, her voice anxious. I frowned and glared at her. “So what? Why should I care?” I said as I strode out. “But Adrian, you can’t…” William hurried to block my path. As we brushed shoulders, he suddenly cried out and fell heavily to the ground. “William! Are you okay?” Olivia, who had just been glaring at me, instantly panicked. She took two big steps, shoved me aside, and anxiously helped William up, gently patting his back to comfort him when she saw he wasn’t injured. Olivia glared at me furiously. “Well, Adrian Quinn, have I given you too much face? Is this what you learned from all those years of education – bullying colleagues and picking on the weak? Apologize to William right now!” I laughed coldly. Before I could speak, William added fuel to the fire, sounding wronged, “Olivia, don’t be angry. Adrian must be too anxious about the professor delegation project. He didn’t mean to push me.” Reminded of this, Olivia also grew nervous. “Are you trying to get fired? If this project gets messed up, you can resign on your own!” I laughed strangely. “Olivia, are you pretending to have amnesia on top of finding new parents? I was fired by you yesterday. The life and death of your precious company have nothing to do with me now.” Olivia’s whole body trembled with anger. She raised her hand to slap me but ended up knocking the computer off the desk. Her voice was terrifyingly low, “Fired? Are you deliberately sabotaging such an important project just to threaten me with quitting?” I really didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She was the one who issued the dismissal notice. This pair of cheaters was too much. I quickened my pace to leave – spending another second with them made me want to vomit. But Olivia called out as I was leaving, “Adrian Quinn, according to company policy, for major losses caused by personal mistakes, compensation must be paid…” I didn’t even look back as I walked away. “Yeah, if you keep yapping instead of cleaning up this mess, it won’t be compensation – it’ll be bankruptcy!” Thinking of Olivia’s gnashing teeth, I felt secretly pleased. She had wanted to manipulate me into cleaning up William’s mess, but this time I didn’t give an inch. She had kicked an iron plate. After leaving the company, I listed the marital home I had bought years ago for sale online, priced for a quick sale. The real estate agent said those school district apartments were in high demand. He quickly found a buyer offering much more than my asking price. The price didn’t matter. What mattered was that anything related to Olivia felt like a thorn in my side. Then I drove straight to the civil affairs bureau and got the divorce certificate I had been longing for. Our mutually torturous marriage was finally over!

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When I was bullied and pushed off the school rooftop, Julian, the fox-beastman I had adopted, was kneeling before my tormentor, Valerie Blackwood, devoutly kissing her hand: “Valerie, please, let me come back to you, okay?” But back then, it was *me* who’d risked half my life, fighting tooth and nail, to rescue a half-dead Julian from Valerie’s cruel beast-fighting arena. That was the moment I finally understood: Julian had always been deeply in love with Valerie. He hated my so-called rescue, hated me for taking him away from her side. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day we first met. Julian was curled in a corner, bruised, battered, and barely clinging to life. I smiled, clapped my hands, and pointed at the snarling little wolf that had injured him so badly. “What a fierce little pup. I want him.” Memories from just a few minutes ago were still replaying in my mind. Valerie, with a pack of beast-men, cornered me on the rooftop, beating me until my head bled. Just as I gritted my teeth, pulling out the small knife hidden at my lower back to stab her, Julian appeared. But not to save me. He shifted into his beast form, leaping swiftly, snatching the knife from my hand. He tackled me, throwing me off balance. My foot slipped, and I tumbled backward. In that instant, I watched him carefully help a startled Valerie to her feet. He knelt on the ground, bowing his head to devoutly kiss her hand. “Valerie, you are my only true master. “I’ve grown strong enough now, strong enough to protect you. “Please, let me return to your side, okay?” Turns out, the fox I’d nurtured for five years had never once acknowledged me as his owner. Every day I cared for him, he was just biding his time, waiting for a chance to bite through my throat and return to Valerie’s side. Hatred burned away my reason. I closed my eyes as I fell. The sudden, dizzying sense of freefall swallowed me whole.

When I opened my eyes again, the sky was bright, and the arena roared with thunderous applause and shouts. I froze for a moment, then my gaze landed on the blood-soaked fox in the fighting ring. That was Julian’s beast form. He was losing ground rapidly under the relentless, vicious attacks of the wolf-beast opposite him, whimpering lowly in the corner, too terrified to move. It hit me then— I had been reborn, back to the year I first met Julian. Valerie Blackwood was naturally spoiled and cruel, finding pleasure in tormenting beast-men. This arena was her personal playground, but for the beast-men, it was hell on earth. Only the victors earned the right to live. But even then, their fate was merely to be bought by spectators and kept as playthings. In my previous life, Julian’s helpless, pathetic form in the corner had moved me. I had offered to buy him. But Valerie refused to let him go. She’d said: “The law of the jungle is the truth of this world. If he loses, he deserves to die. Ms. Sterling, don’t spoil the rules of my arena.” But I was stubbornly set on Julian. I risked life and limb, fighting my way out of the arena with him. Once free, I scoured the lands for rare herbs and potent elixirs to heal and strengthen Julian. Everything I owned, I shared with him, never once discriminating against him for being a beast-man. What a joke. All that heartfelt effort? Just me deluding myself. From the very beginning, Julian’s heart belonged to Valerie, even though she never gave him a second thought. He was pathologically, madly obsessed with her, willing to abandon a life of luxury just to grovel at her feet. Living this life again, I finally realized— Some creatures are just born rotten to the core.

The wolf-beast on the platform slowly closed in on Julian. The applause was deafening, almost tearing the roof off the arena. Everyone was eagerly anticipating the moment Julian’s throat would be ripped out, his last breath choked. Especially Valerie. Her eyes practically glowed with anticipation. But how could I let Julian die so easily? This time, I wanted Julian to get what he truly wished for: to stay with Valerie, to be tormented to death by his darling mistress. The next second, I smiled and clapped, pointing to the small wolf on the platform. “What a fierce little pup. I want him. “Ms. Blackwood, you wouldn’t mind parting with him, would you?” Valerie was clearly annoyed she didn’t get to see Julian die on the platform. But she still forced a smile at me. “Of course. Ms. Sterling, please, help yourself.” The wolf-beast was led off the stage, cleaned, and then brought back to me. Julian, however, was immediately forced into his next fight. When another wolf-beast was brought onto the platform, Julian visibly started to break down. I leisurely sipped my drink, savoring Julian’s panicked expression. This wolf-beast was clearly not as strong as the last, and Julian managed to hold his own, fighting back and forth. His old wounds tore open again, bleeding profusely. He whimpered and cried, but it only made the audience even more excited. To maximize their attacking power, beast-men usually shift into their animal forms during fights. But just as the wolf-beast clamped its jaws around his neck, Julian suddenly shifted into his human form. A handsome, fair face emerged. Julian, eyes hazy with tears, looked desperate and broken, reaching out to Valerie. “Valerie, save me.”

People turned to look at Valerie. Her face was grim. She raised her hand and slammed her teacup to the ground. “How are my staff teaching these beast-men?! “This low-level creature dares to call me by my name?” Seeing Valerie angered, some onlookers got other ideas. “If Ms. Blackwood doesn’t want him, why not sell this fox to me?” “No wonder they call him a fox; he’s got that charming, manipulative look. I like it too.” A few fleshy-faced older men exchanged knowing glances. But Valerie’s face was cold as she enunciated each word: “The law of the jungle. The loser dies. Don’t any of you dare break the rules.” Julian, pinned to the ground on the platform, his neck bleeding, was moments from death. The next second, he somehow produced a small dagger and stabbed the wolf-beast on top of him. The wolf-beast struggled weakly a few times, then went still. Julian had turned the tables at the last moment. This was a scene I’d never witnessed in my previous life. The arena fell silent. Everyone stared, stunned, at the platform. No beast-man had ever managed to evade a search and bring a weapon into the ring. But precisely because of that, there were no explicit rules against it. Julian scrambled to his feet, ignoring the blood on his face, and grinned brilliantly at Valerie. “Valerie, I won. I…” Valerie coldly cut him off: “Who was it just now who wanted this fox? “Let the bidding begin.” Julian’s face went utterly white.

Julian did indeed have a beautiful face. The auction price climbed higher and higher. I boredomly set down my drink. The wolf-beast I’d bought earlier, his wounds bandaged, was brought to my side. Only then did I notice that his human form was just as striking as Julian’s. His deep-set features held a primal intensity, and a few shallow scars still marked his face. His glowing emerald eyes had been fixed on me for a while, yet his grey wolf ears were softly drooped. Both docile and wild. For some reason, I felt like I’d seen those untamed eyes before. I took a sip of tea and asked, “What’s your name?” “Caleb.” “Have… have we met before?” His vertical pupils brightened. Caleb was about to speak when suddenly, gasps rippled through the entire arena. Julian, who knows where he found the strength, had broken free from the guards. Under the collective gaze of the crowd, he lunged towards Valerie. Before Valerie could react, he dropped to his knees without hesitation. He took her hand, kissing it with a trembling, controlled tenderness, his voice full of sorrow. “Valerie, I promise I’ll become the strongest beast-man. “I’m willing to be the sharpest blade in your hand. Please, keep me, okay?” *Slap!* A crisp, resounding slap echoed through the entire arena. Julian’s proudly beautiful face was whipped to the side, rapidly swelling red. Valerie disgustedly wiped the back of her hand, as if she’d touched something foul. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Such pathetic groveling is truly disgusting.”

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When my girlfriend was at her lowest, I broke up with her. Years later, after she found success and fame, she used every means possible to marry me. Everyone said I was her one true love, her most treasured husband. But in reality, every night she brought a different man home, shattering my heart and turning me into a laughingstock. I never fought back. I never cried or argued. I simply moved into the study, quietly staying out of her way. She hated that. One night, furious, she kissed me roughly and whispered, “Aren’t you jealous?” What she didn’t know was that I was sick. While she spent each day trying to hurt me, I was silently counting down how many days I had left to live. 1 In the third year of our marriage, my wife, Claire, started keeping a young, handsome college student. His name was Ryan. He was tall, good-looking, and exactly Claire’s type. She kept him around for over six months—longer than any of the others. My friends warned me to be careful. They said Claire seemed genuinely attached to Ryan. The first time I met him was on my birthday. That morning, I’d woken up with a nosebleed that wouldn’t stop. At the hospital, the doctor told me I probably wouldn’t live past spring next year. I nodded calmly and said, “That’s fine.” I wasn’t afraid of dying—I just didn’t want it to hurt. There was an expensive medication that could ease the pain, but I didn’t have enough money to afford it. So, I went to Claire’s office to ask for help. That’s where I ran into Ryan. He had just graduated and was working as Claire’s assistant. Claire was in a meeting, so I sat in the lobby to wait. Ryan kept glancing at me, then leaned over to whisper to his coworkers, “So, that’s the husband? He looks awful—so skinny and sickly, like he’s on his deathbed.” He laughed and added, “People say I look like him, but I don’t see it. I’m way better looking.” I caught my reflection in the glossy glass wall. Messy hair, a puffy coat that made me look even frailer. He wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t much to look at—just a man waiting to die. A coworker nudged him and whispered, “Don’t underestimate him. If he cleaned up, you wouldn’t even compare. And don’t forget, Claire loves him. If you piss him off, she’ll destroy you.”

2 Ryan wasn’t convinced. He rolled his eyes and smirked. He brought me a cup of tea and asked mockingly, “So, Mr. Baker, why is Claire making you wait so long? It’s weird—whenever I stop by, no matter how busy she is, she always makes time for me. She says I’m her priority.” He smiled smugly, and for a moment, I saw a bit of my younger self in him. I thought about it. Claire did treat Ryan differently. She’d had countless lovers over the years, using them as pawns in her game to provoke me. Every night, she brought home someone new, testing my limits. But she never kept them around for long. A day or two, maybe a week. She always got bored quickly. Ryan, though, was different. She spoiled him. She took him out to dinner, shopping, and movies. They acted like an ordinary, happy couple. She gave him money, but she also gave him affection. I looked at him and smiled gently. “If you’re so important to her, why settle for being her dirty little secret?” “You should convince her to divorce me and marry you instead.” Ryan’s expression darkened instantly. He glared at me, his voice shaking with anger. “You’re the one who’s useless here! You’re nothing but a kept man!” “You only got to her first. But now? You’re old, you’re ugly. What could you possibly offer her?” His coworker hurried over, pulling him away, clearly worried I’d be upset. But I wasn’t. I’d promised myself long ago that I wouldn’t get angry because of Claire. I wouldn’t feel sad because of her. And I definitely wouldn’t stoop to competing with her lovers. She wasn’t worth it.

3. Ryan was pulled back by a coworker, but he lost his balance, fell to the ground, and shattered the teacup in his hand. Blood poured from the deep cut on his palm, pooling on the floor. Through the glass of the conference room, Claire saw what had happened. Under the watchful eyes of everyone, she threw down her papers, pushed the door open, and hurried over to Ryan. She grabbed his hand with visible distress, frowning as she examined his injury. Her voice was cold as she asked, “Who did this to him?” The coworker who had tried to help Ryan stepped back in fear, their face pale. I let out a dry laugh. “It was me. And honestly, he deserved it.” Ryan gritted his teeth and glared at me, then shouted, “Yeah, I deserved it! I fell for someone I shouldn’t have. I’m the one being called a kept man, a plaything.” “But Claire,” he said, looking into her eyes with a mix of defiance and passion, “as long as you love me, I’ll stay by your side forever. No one can take me away from you.” The words were absurd, but the way he said them—so firm, so sincere—made him seem almost brave. Claire couldn’t help but laugh. She reached out to ruffle his hair and said softly, “Don’t be mad. You’re going to make me worry.” She treated him differently. That much was obvious. I lowered my gaze, no longer interested in the scene. Instead, I calmly said to Claire, “For my birthday this year, I want $50,000.” It was funny, really. We were married, yet we didn’t even have each other’s phone numbers. The only time I reached out to her was when I needed money. Before we got married, we had an agreement: she wanted me, and I wanted her money. Claire had always hated how materialistic I was. But in the past, no matter how much I asked for, she would always give it to me without hesitation. This time, though, she looked at me with a cold smile and said slowly, “You can have the money.” “But, Isaac, first, lower your proud head and apologize to Ryan.” Claire was willing to pay $50,000 to buy back my dignity and give it to Ryan in the form of an apology. It was the first time she had used money to humiliate me for the sake of another man. I clenched my fists and forced a laugh, holding back the sudden wave of pain that surged through my body. I turned and walked away. I didn’t need the money anymore. For the first time, I was curious about Claire. If one day she found out that this money could have given me more time to live… if she knew how much I’d suffered before I died… What kind of expression would she have then?

4. I went home alone, curling up in bed in pain, drenched in a cold sweat. After taking a sleeping pill, I told myself, If I fall asleep, it won’t hurt anymore. Half-asleep, I dreamed of when I was twenty years old. Claire was dirt-poor back then, but she loved me deeply. That year, on my birthday, I walked past a café and saw a couple sitting by the window. The boy was holding a white cake—it looked delicate, delicious, and expensive. I still remember the snow falling heavily that day. I scooped up a mound of snow, turned to Claire, and grinned. “Claire, doesn’t this look like a cake?” She bit her lip, pulled me into her arms, and held me tight. She didn’t let me see the tears welling up in her eyes. Three days later, she showed up outside my dorm with a cake. When I saw the frostbite on her fingers, my eyes turned red with anger. Through gritted teeth, I told her, “Claire, your hands are meant for reading and writing, not for ruining just to make me happy.” I said I didn’t deserve such an expensive cake. She frowned and immediately shot back, “Isaac, you’re the best person in the world. You deserve all the good things it has to offer.” That day, I ate the entire cake through tears. I don’t even remember what it tasted like anymore. I just know that after that, I never had a cake that tasted better. I slept for a long time. Half-conscious, I heard my phone ringing. When I picked it up, Claire’s voice came through. “Isaac,” she said. I smiled faintly, my voice soft as I replied, “Claire, it’s snowing. I want cake.” Before she could respond, I turned over and fell back into a deep sleep.

5. I slept until the middle of the night when hunger woke me up. I went to the kitchen to find something to eat, only to realize Claire had come back. She had bought Ryan a big house. They lived there together. He cooked for her, made her laugh, and waited for her to come home. Claire seemed happy. She hadn’t been back here in a long time. She leaned lazily against the floor-to-ceiling window, her eyes fixed on me. I kept my head down and walked past her, only for her to grab my arm. Frowning, she asked softly, “Why have you lost so much weight?” Her tone was gentle, almost like she still cared about me. For a moment, I froze before yanking my arm away and snapping, “Claire, what’s wrong with you now?” She glanced at her empty hand, her face slowly turning cold. It wasn’t until I reached the dining table and saw a cake covered in candles that I realized the phone call hadn’t been a dream. I’d said I wanted cake, and Claire had bought one. What was this? A peace offering? But I was dying. I didn’t need a cake—or her—anymore. Grabbing the cake, I threw it straight into the trash. Claire frowned, then shoved me against the wall, her voice sharp. “Isaac, are you messing with me?” I smiled, unbothered. “Yeah, Claire, I’m messing with you. So what?” “I said I wanted cake, and you went and bought one. God, you’re just as pathetic as you used to be.” I twisted the knife deliberately, watching her expression grow colder by the second. Her face darkened completely as she grabbed my collar and dragged me into the bedroom. She shoved me down onto the bed, her movements rough and unrestrained. Claire was furious. Her lips crashed onto mine, hard enough to split the corner of my mouth. I shoved her off, my voice icy. “Don’t touch me, Claire. You disgust me.” But she lunged at me again, biting down on my neck. The sharp pain made me suck in a breath. Her voice was low and harsh against my ear. “Isaac, would it kill you to give in to me for once?” “Do you even know how long I’ve waited for you to come to me? How many years I’ve waited for you to just talk to me?” “Do you know how happy I was when you said you wanted cake?” “And then you turn around and treat me like a joke?” She pulled back, her eyes red and brimming with tears, staring at me as if waiting for an answer. My own eyes stung as I glared back at her. The room was dim and suffocating, and neither of us said a word. Claire leaned in closer, her lips just inches from mine when her phone suddenly rang. It was Ryan. She paused, then answered it. I could hear Ryan’s voice, tearful and trembling. “Claire, are you really leaving me for him? You love me. I know you do.” “I’m at a bar right now. I’ve had a lot to drink, and some woman started talking to me…” “I hate her. Please come get me. Take me home, Claire. Please.” Claire said nothing at first. She just stared at me, her lips curling into a cold, mocking smile. Then she spoke, her voice soft but commanding. “Isaac, beg me.” “Beg me to stay, and I won’t leave.” She must have forgotten. A long time ago, I’d already begged her. I’d swallowed my pride and asked, “Claire, can we just sit down and talk calmly?” “Can we stop fighting?” “Can’t we just… be happy together?” “Can you treat me better?” I remember how she had stared at me back then, her gaze cold as ice. And she’d smiled as she said, “Isaac, you don’t deserve it.” Those words had stayed with me ever since, lodged deep in my heart. And now, finally, I could say them back to her. Grabbing her collar, I looked her dead in the eye and said, slowly and deliberately, “Claire, you don’t deserve it.” She froze for a moment, then let out a bitter laugh. Raising the phone to her ear, she said to Ryan, “I’m coming to get you.” Without another glance at me, she stood up, slammed the door, and walked out.

6. The next day, photos of Claire fighting another woman over Ryan spread through our social circles like wildfire. It was the first time one of her affairs had turned into such a public spectacle. Reporters were waiting outside our house. As I walked out, they swarmed me, bombarding me with questions. Claire’s company had grown rapidly over the past few years, and she was a rising name in Westbridge. Not only was she wealthy, but she was also stunningly beautiful, frequently trending online. One young reporter asked, “Mr. Brooks, do you have any comments on what happened between Claire and Ryan?” I didn’t stop walking. Without looking back, I replied, “One’s a cheating wife, and the other’s the kind of man who knowingly gets involved with one. What do you want me to say?” The reporter followed me, persistent. “But I heard that when Claire was at her lowest, you dumped her for money. Then, when she became successful, you guilt-tripped her into marrying you. Now that she’s found true love with Ryan—who’s clearly a better match—you’re clinging to the title of her husband and calling him a homewrecker. Don’t you think you’re the real problem here?” I stopped, turned around, and gave him a cold smile. Grabbing the badge hanging around his neck, I read his name and flipped it over. On the back, there was a student ID from Hillside University. Calmly, I asked, “You’re Ryan’s friend, aren’t you?” “Everyone in these circles knows Claire did whatever it took to marry me. You think I wanted to marry her?” “Or are you here on his behalf, trying to sling mud at me so your buddy can successfully take my place?” The reporter’s face paled. He snatched his badge back and stammered, “I am Ryan’s friend, but I’m a journalist. Everything I say is fair and objective.” “If you really didn’t want to marry her,” he continued, regaining his composure, “then why haven’t you divorced her now that she’s fallen for someone else?” I smirked, about to respond, but then I felt a familiar warmth trickling from my nose. Blood. Someone sneered, “Mr. Brooks keeps saying he doesn’t care, that he was forced into this marriage, but look at him—so stressed out he’s giving himself nosebleeds.” I wiped the blood from my lips with my finger and said evenly, “I’m not stressed. I’m sick. Dying, actually. Nosebleeds are common these days.” The crowd fell silent. The mocking smiles disappeared. Only the young reporter kept talking. “Oh, come on. Quit the act. A nosebleed makes you a dying man now? You’re just trying to play the sympathy card.” “I can’t stand guys like you—always playing the victim, using every dirty trick in the book. You make us all look bad.” With that, he turned and walked away. Something about his retreating figure reminded me of Ryan. Both left the same sour taste in my mouth.

7. The video of me surrounded by reporters quickly made its way onto trending news. Claire responded publicly later that day, saying, “I will never divorce my husband. Please stop bothering him.” That same afternoon, Ryan’s journalist friend was fired. Online, though, the backlash against me only grew. “This guy is disgusting. If he didn’t want to marry her, why did he? No one held a gun to his head.” “And he claims to be her ‘first love’? Please. He’s just a gold digger.” “Claire defends him so much—I’m jealous.” “He dumped her for money back then, and now he’s sticking around for the same reason. All this talk about not wanting the marriage is just him playing the victim.” “Yeah, he’s trying to act noble while still reaping all the benefits. Hypocrite.” Amid the hate, one comment stood out: “Why don’t you all shut your mouths? If you don’t know the truth, stop talking.” People immediately swarmed that account, demanding to know the “truth.” The truth was as cliché as it gets. That year, my mom was diagnosed with a terminal illness. The doctors said it was genetic. Not only was I doomed to eventually face the same fate, but if I ever had kids, they were likely to inherit it, too. The day my mom fell ill, she bled so much from her nose that the floor was covered in red. She lost so much blood that she slipped into a coma for three days. When she woke up, the first thing she said was, “Isaac, you need to break up with Claire.” I stared at her, dumbfounded, and whispered, “Mom, she won’t care about that.” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince her or myself. My mom gently held my hand, nodded, and said, “I know. She’s a good girl.” She paused, then smiled faintly. “You two have been together since high school. Every morning, she’d wait for you at the corner with her bike. Did you think I didn’t notice?” “I remember once, she bought you a sandwich for breakfast. It cost all her bucks.” “You were so clueless and greedy. She lied and said she’d already eaten. And you believed her, happily devouring the sandwich while she went hungry.” “She didn’t have much back then. Her parents were divorced, and she was practically an orphan. That twelve bucks might’ve been her entire day’s budget, and she didn’t even hesitate to spend it on you.” “I thought to myself, my son is lucky to have found someone so good.” “She’s smart, kind, and wonderful in every way.” “But because she’s so good, I can’t let her waste her life on you.” That same year, Claire’s grandmother fell ill and was hospitalized. They were incredibly close—her grandmother had raised her. Claire was already overwhelmed trying to pay for the medical bills. My mom said women’s hearts are fragile. If Claire lost her grandmother and me, it would destroy her. I clenched my fists, and after a long silence, I whispered, “Mom… I can’t let her go.” Those words broke me. Tears poured down my face. I can’t let her go.

8. Even ten years later, thinking about it still makes my chest ache. I bought my mom’s favorite persimmons and planned to visit her grave one last time. I was dying. I needed to tell her that I wouldn’t be coming back anymore. Before heading to the cemetery, I decided to stop by Claire’s office to retrieve something. When my mom was alive, she adored Claire. That was back when she was still healthy, and Claire and I were deeply in love. One year, my mom visited a temple and brought back two porcelain dolls for good luck. Inside the boy doll, she tucked my birthdate. Inside the girl doll, she tucked Claire’s. They were supposed to protect us—keep us healthy and ensure that we’d always stay together. My mom asked me to give Claire her doll. But Claire didn’t want the one meant for her. She insisted on taking mine instead. She said the boy doll reminded her of me—awkward and a little goofy, but endearing. She said looking at it felt like looking at me. She liked seeing me. To this day, that doll had sat on Claire’s desk at work. I was worried that after I died, Claire would toss it in the trash like it was nothing. It was something my mom had given me. I needed to take it back and leave it at her grave, so it could stay with her. When I arrived at Claire’s office, she was watching the video of me from that morning—the one where I was bleeding from my nose, casually mentioning that I was dying. When she noticed me, she set her phone aside without saying a word. I glanced at her desk and saw that the spot where the doll used to sit was empty. Frowning, I asked, “Where’s my doll?”

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My husband was supposedly turned to ashes in a fire the night before our wedding. I read his final letter, written in blood, and dutifully cared for his parents for thirty years. But when I went to cancel his official documents, the clerk informed me he had long since remarried and had a child. I refused to believe it and went to find him myself. He claimed I was mentally ill and had me committed, where I suffered greatly. I turned the tables and called the police. “Officer, someone here has committed bigamy!” 0 “Ma’am, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Mr. Grant isn’t dead. In fact, he has a son,” the clerk said. I stood there in shock. George Grant had supposedly been reduced to ashes in a fire twenty years ago. He left a final letter written in blood, and in my dreams he told me I must take care of his parents. I shouldered that burden, caring for them for thirty years. Now they’re telling me George Grant isn’t dead? What have these past thirty years been for? Fighting back tears, I secretly took some photos of George’s current address. I returned home in a daze and called Mr. and Mrs. Grant. In the background noise, I could faintly hear children playing. “Mom, Dad, George is still alive, isn’t he? I heard his voice.” Mrs. Grant smacked her forehead and protested loudly. “How could that be? I think you’re just exhausted lately. Get some rest. It’s perfect timing since we’re traveling, so you can relax too.” With that, she hurriedly hung up. I laughed bitterly and collapsed on the floor, completely drained. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard George’s voice. At first I thought I was hallucinating, that my mind was playing tricks on me. So I didn’t think much of it. But now all the clues were telling me one thing: George Grant wasn’t dead. Looking around at everything I’d worked for to build this home, I broke down sobbing. George and I had fallen in love at first sight. He pursued me passionately. But misfortune always finds those who suffer most. The night before our wedding, while he was cleaning our new home, a faulty appliance caught fire, leading to his untimely death. My eyes were nearly blinded from crying. In the end, I had no choice but to accept this reality. Everyone told me to move on, to find a new husband. Even Mr. and Mrs. Grant said I should remarry and find happiness. But looking at that blood-written letter, I gritted my teeth and treated his parents as my own. For thirty years, I never wavered. My blood pressure spiked as I trembled all over. Didn’t George love me most? If he was alive, why didn’t he come find me? Was there some unspeakable reason? I grabbed my ID and rushed to the neighboring city. I had to find him and get answers. In a lavish mansion, George was living happily with his wife and son. Even Mr. and Mrs. Grant were there. Their happiness stung my eyes. Looking down at my worn-out shoes from the market stall, the wrinkles and scars on my face showed how much I’d sacrificed for this family. I pushed open the door and stared straight at George, calling out to him. “George, you’re alive. Why didn’t you come find me…” Everyone in the mansion panicked. Mrs. Grant quickly came over and slapped me. “What nonsense are you spouting! This is George’s twin brother, Gary. You’ve got the wrong person!” Mrs. Grant had always been kind, but this was the first time she’d ever struck me. “We were planning to tell you after some time, but George’s death was too big a shock for you… We kept it from you for your own good…” I forced a bitter smile. Even if George had been reduced to ashes, I would recognize him. How dare they claim this was his twin brother? 0

Moreover, they only ever had one son. Since when did they have twins? “Sarah, Mom’s here. There must be some misunderstanding. Don’t be upset,” said the woman facing me. She wore elaborate makeup, expensive perfume, and had a perfect manicure. She approached me with ill intent and slapped me without hesitation. “Who are you? How dare you try to scam us, claiming this is your husband? What backwoods hick are you?” Seeing her strike me, the child couldn’t hold back anymore. He came up and kicked me. “Who are you? Get out! You’re not welcome here! Don’t try to steal my dad!” The child kicked hard, drawing blood on my leg. I stood there motionless, my heart pierced as if by needles, aching all over. “George, won’t you say something? I know it’s you.” “If you have some difficulty you can’t speak of, just tell me, okay?” “I’ve worked so hard to care for your parents for thirty years. Are all of you conspiring to deceive me?” He opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by his father. “Sarah, I think you’re just too tired lately. How about this – you’ve cared for us for almost thirty years. After we die, that’ll be the end of it. You don’t need to care for us anymore. Go home now.” I stared at George with hollow eyes. “Won’t you say anything? Are you just going to abandon me like this? You did it thirty years ago, and now you’re doing it again thirty years later? Doesn’t your conscience hurt?” George spoke coldly, “I’m sorry, sister-in-law. You’ve got the wrong person…” Some sister-in-law. Some apology. Thirty years of my youth, and all I get is “sister-in-law” and “sorry”? I clung desperately to George’s legs, wailing. “George Grant, you heartless bastard! How could you abandon me like this? Now you’ve even married and had a child. Are you even human?” He pried my fingers off one by one in disgust, spraying alcohol all over. “Sister-in-law, don’t push your luck. I’m not George Grant! You’ve got the wrong person.” George had changed… everything had changed. My heart-wrenching cries drew the attention of other neighbors. They gathered outside, pointing and whispering. “How tragic, betraying her for thirty years… and then marrying someone else and having a kid.” “Yeah, and calling her ‘sister-in-law’ and claiming to be the twin brother. What a liar… absolute scum!” “Look at that woman all dolled up. She’s clearly no good. Probably slept her way to the top.” Sophia and George’s faces turned ashen as they clenched their fists. The next moment, he called the mental hospital impatiently. “Hello doctor, there’s a mentally ill person here. Please come take her away for treatment!” I shook my head like a rattle drum. “No… no!” “George, do you know how hard it was for me to find you?” I had put on the cleanest outfit from my closet, fixed my hair, and rushed over as fast as I could. Now he was accusing me of being mentally ill. I stood up and looked at George with tear-filled eyes. “You were the first person I ever loved, and the last. I did everything I could to care for your parents. But you conspired with them to deceive me. Doesn’t your conscience hurt at all?” 0

The doctors from the mental hospital got out of the ambulance and dragged me in. I was older now, and these doctors were strong young men. No matter how much I struggled, it was useless. “George, say something! Do you think locking me up will let you do whatever you want? Do you think it will change the fact that you’re George Grant?” I ranted and raved like a madwoman, cursing heaven and earth. But he watched coldly, as if nothing was happening. That’s how I was taken to the mental hospital. I heard their chilling voices in my ear. “Mr. Grant said to torture her to within an inch of her life. She’s old anyway, she won’t die.” “He also said she’s destroying his family, so we shouldn’t go easy on her.” As they spoke, they slowly took off their clothes. Only then did I realize: They weren’t from the mental hospital at all, but thugs hired by George. I curled up in the corner, hugging my knees and trembling. “Please, let me go. I’m just a weak woman. I came to find my husband. There must be some misunderstanding!” “Ahhhh!” A steel pipe struck my leg as smoke filled the air. “Begging won’t help. We’re just doing the job we were paid for!” Sweat poured down my forehead in big drops as I gritted my teeth through the pain. Did George really hate me this much? No matter how I begged, they showed no mercy. They only stopped when I passed out on the ground. Faintly, I heard them calling George. “Mr. Grant… we’ve beaten her pretty badly. About the money…” George laughed coldly on the other end. “Good job. My life is happy and perfect. She insisted on butting in, so she has only herself to blame!” Blood and tears mixed together, falling bitterly into my mouth. Oh heavens, I loved someone with all my heart and soul. Was that also wrong? I kept an empty home, caring dutifully for his parents. Is this really how it all ends? I gasped for air like a dying fish. The next moment, George called. “Sarah Newman, this is what happens when you insist on opposing me. If there’s a next time, don’t expect to keep your life!” “Everything between us is in the past. I’m happy now. Stop bothering me!” As he finished speaking, a coquettish female voice came through the phone. “George, your bath is ready. Come wash up.” After George hung up, A commotion arose outside the vehicle. A group of people with cameras started taking photos of me in my wretched state. Rotten eggs, kitchen waste, and all sorts of trash were thrown at my face. “Sisters, keep throwing! This woman ruined Sophia’s happiness!” “How dare an old hag like you try to compete! Shameless!” “They’re married with a son! Get lost already!” Foul-smelling juices clung to my body. I weakly protested in a small voice: “George and I were married first… It’s not my fault…” “I just gave him my whole heart…” I blacked out and woke up in the hospital. Opening my phone, I saw a flood of messages from Mrs. Grant. “Stop harassing us. Here’s $10,000 to end all ties between us!” “My son is married with his own family now. You can leave.”

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I was born with a fiery passion, sometimes needing to release it three times a day. But our marriage was a business arrangement. So even when it came to *satisfying* me, Dax would only symbolically use toys. His movements were precise, devoid of warmth, never a personal touch. Every time we finished, he’d politely ask, “Are you done?” As if it were a chore completely unrelated to him. But after my unexpected death, I saw this man I’d always shunned like the plague go utterly insane for me. He was like a silent, lone wolf, personally eliminating everyone who had harmed me, both openly and secretly. He kissed my stiff forehead, his voice humbled to dust: “Elara, if there’s a next life, please love me properly, just once, okay?” He held my cold body, then detonated explosives, taking down my enemies with him. The moment his soul scattered, I finally saw all the hidden depth of his love, beneath that icy facade. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself reborn to the first year of our marriage. Overwhelmed with joy, tears blurred my vision. This time, I swore to love him properly. But he was a changed man. He was obsessed with Seraphina, the pole dancer from the club, going completely wild for her. He even wanted to harvest my heart and liver, to concoct medicine for her. I yelled, my voice raw, “You loved me so much in the last life! Why suddenly not anymore?” In my past life, he clearly loved me to his core, loving me enough to be utterly destroyed just for a chance at my love in the next. How could this be? He turned back, his voice chillingly cold: “It was just an arranged marriage. When did I ever love you?” Utterly disheartened, I called my parents. “I want to divorce this heartless man.”

The printer spit out the final page of the divorce agreement. I stared at it for a long time, a few tears escaping. I never imagined the love in this life would dissipate so quickly. I put the papers away, opened my phone, and saw an Ins video notification. It was Seraphina, the dancer, and it already had thousands of likes. In the video, Dax embraced her from behind, his chin resting intimately on her shoulder as he pointed at a limited edition Iron Man model, explaining something in a low voice. The video title read: “My Alpha CEO’s Secret Toy Collection, Worth $10 Million, And Only I’m Allowed In!” My breath hitched. I remembered that global limited edition model; he and I had pulled three all-nighters to assemble it. The moment we finished, we were as happy as kids with candy. He took my hand and gently placed it on the Iron Man’s metal palm. “Elara, this room, and everything in it, is our private fortress. The key is only for you.” A heavy knot formed in my chest at the thought. In my past life, he had broken countless rules for me. He’d canceled multi-billion dollar international meetings just to watch a midnight animated film with me. He hated animal fur and noise, yet he silently allowed me to keep that shedding, yappy Corgi. He never believed in ghosts or gods, but when I was sick, he knelt outside a sacred shrine for a day and a night, praying for my recovery. I gripped the divorce papers tightly and walked straight to that collection room. I didn’t need permission; I had supreme access. He’d promised me that himself. The door wasn’t locked. The moment I pushed it open, languid music washed over me. I froze. In the center of the room, a long pole had been erected at some point. And Dax, sitting on the very couch we had chosen together, was watching that dancer sway on the pole. With a shriek, Seraphina slipped hard from the pole, falling onto the carpet. Her short skirt flew up, revealing she wore absolutely nothing underneath. A glaring red mark had appeared on the inner side of her pale thigh. Dax, without a second thought, knelt down, sucking on the wound. His movements were incredibly gentle. I let out a bitter laugh. When he satisfied me, he’d only use those cold toys, like a cold, unfeeling surgeon. But for her, he could kneel so devotedly, kissing her with his own lips.

I pushed the door open completely and walked in. At the sound, he glared at me, annoyed. “Why didn’t you knock?” I didn’t understand his question. I flung the divorce papers at his feet. “Sign it.” He was perhaps eager to return to their interrupted spectacle. He snatched the pen without even looking at the document. He scribbled his name carelessly. His hormones were clearly dictating his actions. I picked up the agreement and turned to leave, without a single shred of regret. Half an hour later, I had just stepped out of the villa’s front door. A Rolls-Royce pulled up directly in front of me, blocking my path. The window rolled down. Seraphina, the dancer, sat in the back, greeting me. “Elara, where are you going? Dax is taking me to the ‘Black Orchid’ private auction tonight to bid on a dance outfit. Want to come along?” “No.” My voice was cold. Seraphina’s eyes instantly welled up: “Elara, do you hate me?!” “Elara,” Dax’s voice was icy, devoid of any emotion. “Seraphina is kindly inviting you. Don’t be ungrateful.” In the end, I was shoved into the back seat of that car. The auction house was set up in a private estate. Dax was incredibly generous, bidding on a performance outfit worn by the famous star Lady Gaga for Seraphina, drawing gasps of admiration from the crowd. The auctioneer cleared his throat, his voice carrying a hint of mystery: “The next item up for bid is somewhat special. It’s an original, never-before-seen copy of a video. The protagonist is a rising star in the dance world. Starting bid, five million.” A highly intimate video of Seraphina and her ex-boyfriend flashed across the large screen. The entire room erupted in uproar! The high-definition footage, amplified gasps, made every explicit detail excruciatingly clear. “What a figure, truly explosive…” “Those twin peaks, I’d love to play with them. Must feel great.” Lewd laughter from men, mixed with women’s gasps and disdain, instantly exploded into chaos. Seraphina’s face went ashen. She pointed at the screen, trembling uncontrollably: “It’s not me! That’s not me!” Suddenly, she spun towards me, tears streaming down her face: “Elara! Can you really not tolerate me?! Did you have to use such a low-down trick to ruin me?!” With that, she sobbed, covered her face, and ran out. Dax’s eyes darkened. He stood up, his voice low, yet it made the entire room dead silent. “This video, and all its backups, sent to my office within an hour. One second late,” He scanned the room, “I promise you, no one in this room will see the sun tomorrow.” Then, he turned and stared at me: “Elara, you’d better pray this has nothing to do with you.”

My mind was a blank, a chill seeping into my bones as I returned to the villa. I stared at the ceiling. How did it come to this? I sat there numbly all night until, at dawn, the front door was kicked open with a bang! Dax stormed in, radiating cold fury, his eyes bloodshot. “Do you know Seraphina tried to cut her wrists?!” His voice was a raw roar. “If she hadn’t been found in time, she would be dead!” “How could this happen? I didn’t do this!” I couldn’t hold back any longer and stood up from the couch. He sneered, pressing closer: “Not you? She’d just try to kill herself for no reason?” “You must have forced her! Don’t push your luck!” I knew I was innocent, and further explanations were useless if he was determined to believe otherwise. “I’m tired, Dax.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to explain anymore.” He seized my wrist, his grip making me wince in pain. “You’re tired?” “Elara, you ruined her, and now you say you’re tired?!” My heart twisted violently, a sharp, suffocating pain gripping my chest, stealing my breath. I clutched my chest tightly. My vision began to spin. In my previous life, he knew I had a congenital heart condition and couldn’t handle stress. My vision went black, and I collapsed straight down. In a haze, I felt myself fall into an embrace. He caught my falling body, his face etched with terror. I heard him scoop me up, racing out like a madman. “Elara! Hold on! I’m taking you to the hospital!”

When I woke up again, I was in the hospital. Dax’s grim face was hovering close by, looking down at me. “Elara, you certainly know how to pick your moments to get sick,” he slowly began. “Seeing Seraphina try to cut her wrists, you decided to use your illness to stage a bigger drama, hoping to guilt-trip me?” He let out a cold laugh, leaning closer. “Cut the act. Our marriage is just a contract. I don’t have time for your melodramatic performances, and I certainly won’t pity you.” My heart felt utterly cold. Sure enough, the look of panic I’d seen on him before I passed out was just a hallucination brought on by my sudden cardiac arrest. The day I was discharged, I pushed open the door to a scene I wish I hadn’t witnessed. Seraphina was wearing my silk robe, curled up in Dax’s arms on our matrimonial bed. When he saw me return, he pulled Seraphina even tighter into his embrace and said to me: “Seraphina just got out of the hospital. The doctor said she has severe depressive tendencies and needs 24-hour care.” “All of this is your fault. At my home, at least I can ensure she won’t do anything foolish again.” He seemed afraid that I might act on impulse and hurt her further. But I had no strength left to argue: “Whatever.” Anyway, the divorce agreement was signed. Soon, this wouldn’t be my home anymore. Just as I was about to speak, Seraphina tugged at his sleeve, her voice weak: “Dax, it’s time for my medicine.” She lowered her gaze, but her eyes, at the very edge, darted a defiant look at me, “The doctor said to take it with 104-degree Fahrenheit warm water; it’s good for recovery… Elara, could you get me a cup?” Dax turned to me and snarled, “Didn’t you hear her? Go pour it.” I walked towards the bar counter in the living room, which was covered in Dax’s various business trophies. “Is the water not ready yet?” Seraphina’s voice came from behind me. I ignored her. Suddenly, she ran over and violently smashed one of the crystal trophies onto the floor! After a sharp, shattering sound, she lunged, grabbing my hand and violently pressing it against the razor-sharp crystal base! “Ah—!” I shrieked. Excruciating pain shot through my entire body like an electric current, and blood instantly gushed out. When I pulled my hand away, my palm was mangled and bloody, the bone clearly visible. Seraphina quickly picked up a small shard and lightly grazed her forearm with it. Then she stumbled and fell to the floor, her eyes immediately welling up. “What’s going on?” Dax rushed in at the sound. Seraphina immediately started crying: “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked Elara to get me water… otherwise, she wouldn’t have gotten angry, deliberately smashed your trophy, and then used the pieces to cut me…” Dax’s face instantly hardened. He strode over to me, seizing my injured wrist. “Are you out of your mind?!” I was shaking uncontrollably from the pain. I held up my mangled, bloody, and horrifying hand. “Dax! She did this herself!” I stared at Dax intensely. “The living room is covered in surveillance cameras… One look at the footage would prove it!” “No need to check.” He cut me off coldly. “I believe Seraphina.” I felt as if my heart had been hit by a large truck, shattered into a thousand pieces. “Elara, you truly are beyond redemption.” Dax’s voice was laced with icy venom. His eyes swept over me, then he grabbed my other, uninjured hand, holding it in a vise-like grip! “No—! Dax! You’ll regret this!!” My scream was swallowed by the sickening scrape of flesh against crystal. The intense burning pain made my vision go black.

When consciousness returned, both my hands were wrapped in thick, white bandages. The pain had dulled to a throb. Mr. Henderson, our old butler, was standing by the bed, his eyes filled with sorrow. “Madam, you’re finally awake. I’ll go inform the master.” “No need.” I managed a weak smile, my voice hoarse as if sandpaper had scraped it. “These hands, he destroyed them.” Mr. Henderson’s body stiffened, his face etched with incredulity. “How could… the master used to not even let you clip your own nails, fearing the scissors would harm you…” Tears finally streamed uncontrollably from my eyes. Yes, the whole world knew he once cherished me. But why, after being reborn, was that deep affection completely gone? It didn’t matter now, anyway. The agreement was signed; soon, I’d be completely free of him. Thinking that I would leave soon, I had to say goodbye to Grandpa Arthur, no matter what. As soon as I entered, I saw him leaning on the couch, looking unwell. “Grandpa, Dax and I… are separating.” Noticing the pain in my voice, Grandpa Arthur sighed deeply and patted my hand: “Never mind, that boy doesn’t have the good fortune. Even if I die, I’ll never let that kind of woman into my family’s home!” My nose stung. In my past life, Grandpa Arthur protected me just the same way. “Grandpa, it’s time for your blood pressure medicine.” I stood up. “I’ll get it from the next room for you.” When I returned with the medicine, I was about to knock, but heard a muffled groan from inside through the door crack. Pushing the door open, I saw Seraphina standing in front of Grandpa Arthur, a pillow on the floor. The old man’s wizened hands hung limply, he was close to suffocating. “Let him go!” I pushed her away like a madwoman. Grandpa Arthur was breathing weakly, his eyes rolled back. “Help! Call a doctor, fast!” My scream drew everyone’s attention. Dax’s face changed instantly at the sight: “Grandpa!” He roughly pushed me aside and rushed out, carrying Grandpa. Inside the recovery room, Dax looked at us, his face grim. “Tell me, what happened?” “It was Elara!” Seraphina shrieked, pointing at me. “I saw her smother Grandpa with a pillow!” “She… she was trying to harm Grandpa! I tried to stop her, but she tried to attack me too…” Dax’s gaze was like ice: “Grandpa treated you like his own granddaughter. How could you do such a thing?”

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My father was a grifter. Out of 365 days a year, I was lucky to see him for 65. The rest of the time, he was darting between casinos. During the rare times we spent together, my father taught me a lot about the art of cheating. I learned quickly and mastered the techniques, but he always warned me: I could learn all the tricks, but I could never use them. If he ever found out I stepped foot in a casino, he’d break my legs. Life went on like that. Until that night. A frantic knock at the door startled me awake. When I opened it, the first thing I smelled was blood. Several burly men dragged a man covered in blood, dumping him at our doorstep. The man, drenched in crimson, his right hand severed, was my father! 0I couldn’t reconcile the man before me, covered in blood, his face swollen beyond recognition, with my once dashing and charming father. I froze, feeling as if all strength had been drained from my body by an unseen hand. My mother had passed away early, and in my father’s absence, it had always been just my younger brother, Finn, and me, relying on each other. Now, seeing our father drenched in blood, Finn and I were both completely panicked. My father was rushed into the ER. The doctor, stone-faced, presented the bill and told me to pay. “Three thousand dollars for the surgery, not a penny less, or we can’t proceed. If you want him to live, pay up.” But where was I supposed to find three thousand dollars? Mom was gone… if Dad died too, our family would fall apart. I glanced at Finn. He’d just stumbled at a crucial point in his life, unsure of his future. Expecting him to produce that much money was absurd. I stood by the hospital window, feeling desperate and helpless. Through the glass, I saw a bright neon sign hanging on the building across the street. It read: Card Room. Those two words felt like a mystic master, pointing the way. As if they were telling me, *Come on in.* *Step inside, and you’ll have the money to save your father.* The words “Card Room” seemed to possess an immense magic, pulling me in, as if all I had to do was walk through the door… and I’d have the cash to save Dad. I handed Finn my savings book, which held a few hundred dollars, and told him to handle things at the hospital for now. “I’ll figure out the rest of the money. If the doctors ask, tell them I’ll have it by tomorrow morning.” Clutching the last few hundred dollars I had, I quickly walked into that card room. Inside, cigarette smoke hung thick in the air. People sat at card tables like zombies, their eyes hollow, as if their souls had been sucked out. “A haze of smoke and raw despair” was the perfect description for this place. I stood near the door, observing carefully, finally settling my gaze on a table in the corner. They were two players short, needing a third for a fast-paced card game. The minimum bet was fifty dollars, the maximum two hundred. This was within my budget. I pulled up a chair and sat between the two players. I looked them over: one with a round face, the other with messy, instant-noodle hair. Both had dark circles under their sunken eyes. They were clearly seasoned gamblers, regulars here. I nonchalantly pulled out a cigarette and put it in my mouth, feigning ease. Rocky, the round-faced one, was the dealer. Spike, with the messy hair, was my downstream player. I was caught in the middle, like prey between two predators. We started placing our bets. The first hand began. We each held sixteen cards. The first one out took all the money from the last one remaining. The second one out broke even. So, whoever was last lost the most. 0

Three gamblers, including myself, sat around the cramped card table. Since we were playing a fast-paced game, two Kings, three 2s, and one Ace were removed from the deck. Each player received sixteen cards. The card combinations included singles, pairs, three-of-a-kind with a kicker, four-of-a-kind with two kickers, straights (like a “plane with wings”), and four-card bombs. Among all cards, three Aces were the highest, able to beat any combination. Among single cards, the 2 was the highest. Among four-card sets, the King was the highest. Whoever held the 3 of Spades led the first hand. While drawing cards, I meticulously watched Rocky’s hands. I was absolutely certain he’d get the lead. As he shuffled, he’d subtly hooked a card with his pinky finger. Though he was quick, it didn’t escape my notice. Sure enough, Rocky chuckled. He tossed out a 3 of Spades. I was next. I played a 5. Then it was Spike’s turn. He did something completely unexpected: he slammed down a King. I noticed Rocky’s brow furrow. He couldn’t help but curse. “A 5, and you waste a King on it? What a needless sacrifice of a strong card!” With that King played, no one could top it. The lead passed to Spike. In that brief hand, I saw it: Spike and Rocky were putting on a show for me. The more they acted, the more I felt something was off. My father once told me that in this world, whether it’s Pai Gow, Mahjong, or Poker, Ultimately, you’re playing against people. For a grifter, technique always comes second. First is reading people. But you can’t truly see into a person’s heart; you can only rely on your gut. When you feel like the people at the table are trying to trick you, Trust your instincts. I glanced at my hand; my cards weren’t great. That’s why I needed to seize the lead, to buy myself time to think. I had to find a way to prolong this hand. The longer it lasted, the more likely Rocky and Spike were to slip up. In this world, no cheating technique is foolproof. If you cheat, you will eventually be found out. The only way not to lose is not to gamble at all. From the moment I sat down at that table, Rocky and I, only one of us was walking out of this card room intact. So, when Spike threw out a pair of 5s, I slammed down a pair of Kings. Rocky hissed, like he had a toothache. He licked his dry lips and squeezed out a single phrase from between his teeth: “Can’t beat it.” Spike also shook his head, letting me lead. After gaining the lead, I immediately played a pair of 5s, discarding my weak cards. Rocky then played a pair of 7s. Spike waved his hand, couldn’t beat it. I played a pair of 10s. While Rocky was thinking, I quickly started recalling the cards still in play. No Aces. No 2s. Now, I was certain Rocky and Spike were working together to cheat. That meant 80% of the high cards were in Rocky’s hand. When he dealt the cards, he must have swapped them. In grifter’s slang, that’s called “card-switching” or “palming”—stealing crucial cards during the deal, then restoring the deck. This technique only works in small card rooms like this. In larger casinos, with hidden cameras and surveillance everywhere, such methods are impossible to pull off. If the hidden cameras caught you in a big casino, they’d chop you to bits. Breaking such a cheat isn’t impossible, though. I needed to take a gamble… But if I lost… I might end up just like my father. 0

The best way to counter a cheat is to crush them with a superior technique. I pretended to pick up my lighter and light the cigarette in my mouth. While I was taking a drag, I watched Rocky. During that time, he made no small movements, just impatiently tapped the table, urging me to play faster. My role right now was the prey. I needed to wait for Rocky, the hunter, to make a mistake, then devour him whole, leaving not a single bone. It looked like a simple card game, but the fate of all three of us was tied to this table. I couldn’t afford to be careless, not for a second. After gaining the lead, I thought for a full thirty seconds, then threw out a three-of-a-kind with a pair. Seeing me play such a hand, Spike couldn’t help but make a clicking sound, seemingly displeased with my move. I leaned back in my chair, the nearly burnt-out cigarette dangling from my lips, and mimicking Rocky, tapped the table, signaling him to make a decision quickly. “Can’t beat it. Your turn.” I instinctively touched my nose, then played a seven-card straight (3-4-5-6-7-8-9). Now I had five cards left: two 6s, two Js, and a single 5. Rocky shook his head, didn’t play, passing the lead to Spike. I knew Rocky was intentionally letting me play. He hadn’t intended to take the lead in this hand; he wanted to lure me deeper. He would make me believe his hand was weak, then, when I had only one card left, he’d sweep the whole game. A true grifter plays the long game, baiting big fish, letting you nibble at the hook bit by bit until you’re deeply ensnared and can’t escape. Of course, a grifter must never be greedy; no greed, no mistakes. I wasn’t greedy, and neither was Rocky. He was a tough opponent. One wrong move, and I’d be utterly crushed. Compared to him, Spike seemed very one-dimensional. He was more like an automated machine. Looking at it that way, the situation became clear. Rocky was the brain; Spike was the hand. They were teaming up to fleece me like a fat pig. The cards in the deck, Rocky and Spike could manipulate through their methods, turning them into any card they desired. This was the grifter’s craft. With a teammate’s cooperation, it was almost unstoppable. If they continued working together, I would definitely lose. But I couldn’t lose!

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