Category: English

The day I took my parents and my older brother to pick out his new car, I naturally pulled open the passenger door and slid into the front seat. From the back, my parents didn’t say a word. But my brother, sitting behind the wheel, suddenly darkened. “Can’t you sit in the back?” he snapped, his voice thick with impatience. I paused, hand hovering over the seatbelt. “This seat is exclusively for your future sister-in-law,” he explained, his brow furrowing into a tight knot. “You doing this is going to cause a fight between us.” Not wanting to put him in a difficult position, I pulled out my phone and dialed his fiancée, genuinely intending to explain the situation and smooth things over. But the moment she answered, she exploded. “Do you not have your own man? Is that why you have to steal someone else’s husband’s passenger seat?” Her voice was a jagged edge slicing through the phone’s speaker. “If you’re that desperate for male attention, go find it on the street. Stop clinging to your brother all day. It’s honestly sickening.” I froze. The phone felt like a block of ice against my ear. Beside me, my brother let out a heavy sigh. “You know Brittany is an only child. She’s a little spoiled. You’re the younger sister, Jocelyn. Just be the bigger person and let it go.” From the backseat, my mother chimed in, her tone entirely too reasonable. “It really was thoughtless of you, Jocelyn. The whole backseat is empty, and you just had to sit up front. No wonder Brittany is upset.” Listening to them—the overlapping chorus of their justifications—a sudden, sharp laugh clawed its way out of my throat. “You know what? You’re entirely right,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “People really should have a sense of boundaries.” I unbuckled my seatbelt. “You guys can buy this car yourselves.” I shoved the door open and stepped out onto the asphalt. 1 I slammed the door shut and started walking. Behind me, the car doors opened. My parents and my brother, Derek, scrambled out, chasing after me. My mother grabbed my elbow. “Today is a happy day! We’re buying your brother a car. Why are you throwing another one of your tantrums?” Derek looked at me, his face a mask of aggrieved exhaustion. “Jocelyn, didn’t we agree on this? You front the cash for the car, and later, once Brittany and I are married and settled, I’ll pay you back.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “I know I’m not as successful as you. But I finally found a wife. Mom and Dad are finally going to hold a grandchild. Can’t you just think of the family for once? Stop being so petty with your sister-in-law.” He looked at me with what he probably thought was earnest pleading. “Look, if it really comes down to it, I’ll write you an IOU.” He actually turned back toward the dealership, as if to find a pen and paper. Derek was thirty-five. Brittany was seven years younger than him. I lived in the real world; I understood the modern, performative territoriality of relationships. I knew the passenger seat was the sacred ground where some women chose to defend their romantic territory. Sitting there, in her eyes, was tantamount to staking a claim on her man. But Derek and I were siblings. We shared DNA. I opened my mouth to argue, but my mother’s grip tightened on my arm. “My sweet girl,” she coaxed. “Pregnant women have wild hormones. She can’t help her temper. Just let it slide, please?” I grew up in a household with a son and a daughter, but my parents had never been the stereotypical, aggressively patriarchal monsters you read about on the internet. I had my own room. I went to college. They loved me. Or, at least, I had always believed they did. Because my mother was practically begging me, the fight drained out of my lungs. But the bitter taste of humiliation remained. “I don’t want to buy the car today,” I said flatly. I hadn’t forgotten that this seventy-thousand-dollar Mercedes was supposed to be my money, spent entirely to appease Brittany. My parents exchanged a panicked glance with Derek. My mother, ever the peacekeeper, quickly pivoted. “Fine, fine. We won’t go today. The astrologer Brittany hired said the optimal manifestation window for a large purchase has passed anyway. Let’s just go home. We can pick up the car tomorrow.” She steered me toward the backseat. This time, I didn’t try to sit up front. I squeezed into the back with my parents. When we pulled into the driveway, Brittany was already standing on the front porch, arms crossed, her eyes darting around the empty space behind our vehicle. “Where’s the car?” she demanded. Before my feet even hit the pavement, Derek was already rushing over to coddle her. “We hit a little snag and missed the astrologer’s lucky hour,” he cooed. “We’ll go back tomorrow.” Brittany let out a loud, theatrical scoff. “What kind of snag? Don’t tell me some desperate, homewrecking groupie threw herself into the street to seduce you?” As she said it, her eyes locked onto mine, narrowing into malicious slits. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew exactly who the “homewrecker” was supposed to be. I was a corporate executive earning a high six-figure salary. I managed teams, negotiated millions, and commanded respect. When had I ever been spoken to like this? I stepped forward, the heat rising in my chest, ready to tear her down to the studs. But my mother instantly threw her body between us. “Oh, no homewreckers, sweetie!” my mother chirped nervously. “We just had to get gas, and you know how traffic is. We missed the window.” She grabbed Brittany’s hands. “Brittany, I promise you, tomorrow we are bringing that car home. We promised you a Mercedes, and a Mercedes you shall have.” My mother nudged me hard in the ribs. “Right, Jocelyn?” 2 The only reason I had ever agreed to buy Derek a car was because I believed we were a good family. Derek had never amounted to much. He was a perpetual bachelor who bounced between mediocre jobs, and he had finally found someone willing to marry him. I didn’t want my parents draining their meager retirement accounts to fund his wedding, so I stepped up. I offered to buy the car. But looking at Brittany now—looking at the smug, entitled tilt of her chin—I felt my checkbook physically locking itself away in my mind. When I didn’t immediately agree, my mother pinched my arm. I offered a noncommittal, flat “Mhm” just to end the standoff. Brittany seemed satisfied. “Fine,” she said, her tone dripping with unearned grace. She stroked her perfectly flat stomach. “But I’m going to be completely upfront with you all. Don’t think for a second that just because I’m young and pregnant, you can pull a fast one on me. Every single thing I was promised better be delivered.” Her voice dropped, hardening into a threat. “Otherwise, there won’t be a wedding. And I will march straight to a clinic and get rid of this baby.” The word rid hung in the air like a live grenade. My mother instantly went into a tailspin of panic. “No, no, Brittany, honey, please! You don’t have to worry. You are the absolute queen of this house now. If anyone—anyone—dares to mistreat you, they’ll have to answer to me.” Derek nodded vigorously, looking like a desperate puppy. “My entire paycheck goes straight to you from now on. Everything we own is yours.” Brittany shot me a triumphant look. Her eyes were bright with the thrill of absolute power. I just felt nauseous. If it weren’t for me keeping this family afloat, the few pennies Derek scraped together wouldn’t have afforded her a fraction of the lifestyle she was currently enjoying. She was wielding a fetus like a loaded gun, and she had entirely forgotten who actually paid the bills. If I wasn’t so worried about my parents’ blood pressure, I would have put her in her place right then and there. Seeing that I wasn’t going to engage, Brittany turned and led the procession into the house. Normally, by this time of evening, Maria, our housekeeper, would be bustling around the kitchen, the smell of roasting garlic and herbs filling the air. Today, the kitchen was dead silent. “Where’s Maria?” I asked, frowning. Brittany flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I let her go.” My jaw tightened. “Honestly, Jocelyn, you need to be smarter when you hire the help,” Brittany lectured, walking toward the fridge. “You can’t just let shady people into the house. If I hadn’t been paying attention today, she would have robbed us blind.” I stood there, stunned into silence. I had personally hired Maria five years ago to make sure my aging parents had three nutritious meals a day. She was a phenomenal cook, a warm soul, and fiercely loyal. The idea of her stealing was utterly laughable. I knew exactly what this was. Brittany was establishing dominance. She was punishing me for the passenger seat. She was systematically erasing my influence in the house. Breathe, I told myself. She’s pregnant. Don’t engage with crazy. “Fine,” I said, pulling out my phone. “What does everyone want to eat? I’ll have the steakhouse downtown send something over.” Brittany slammed the fridge door shut. “Why are we ordering delivery?” she snapped. “Do you think money just grows on trees in this house?” She crossed her arms and stared me down. “There are groceries right there. You can just whip something up. Oh, and I don’t eat cilantro. My baby needs high-quality nutrients. I want fish, I want shrimp, and I want a proper bone broth.” She smiled, a thin, venomous stretching of her lips. “You can just throw that together, right?” I lowered my phone, staring at her as if she had grown a second head. “I hope you’re not mad, Jocelyn,” she continued, her voice taking on a sickeningly sweet, patronizing lilt. “I’m really doing this for your own good. You’re getting older. You need to learn how to keep a home. If you finally manage to trick a man into marrying you, you don’t want to embarrass your parents by not knowing how to serve your husband.” A laugh, sharp and incredulous, slipped past my lips. I put my phone back in my pocket. “I don’t cook,” I said simply. “What kind of woman doesn’t cook?” Brittany’s voice instantly shot up an octave. “Well, you’re making dinner tonight!” She looked me up and down, her eyes lingering on my tailored blazer and designer heels with raw disdain. “Honestly, look at you. Strutting around all dolled up every day. Anyone can tell you aren’t the marrying type. Aren’t you embarrassed about what people whisper about you behind your back?” She planted her hands on her hips, fully adopting the role of the matriarch. “Now that Derek and I are getting married, I’m the woman of this house. Your parents might have coddled you, but I won’t. From now on, you need to stop going to that corporate job of yours. Hand your position over to your brother. You can stay home, do the laundry, cook the meals, take care of your parents, and learn how to be a proper, submissive woman.” I actually laughed out loud. The sheer, unadulterated delusion of it was intoxicating. So this was the endgame. Putting aside the fact that Derek only had a community college degree and couldn’t even compose a coherent email, let alone manage international client portfolios—even if I wanted to hand him my six-figure job, the CEO of my company wasn’t running a charity for incompetent brothers! When I didn’t respond, Brittany took a step closer. “I am talking to you! Did you hear me?” I ignored her completely and shifted my gaze to my parents, who had been standing in the periphery, silent as ghosts. “And you?” I asked quietly. “Is this what you think, too?” I couldn’t care less what delusions were rattling around inside Brittany’s head. The only thing that mattered to me was my parents’ reaction. My mother flinched. She looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. “She’s young, Jocelyn,” my mother muttered to the floor. “Don’t take it to heart.” “She’s young?” I echoed, the disbelief cracking my composure. “She’s twenty-eight. For God’s sake, she’s practically my age!” The moment the words left my mouth, Derek puffed out his chest. “That is enough!” he barked. “Brittany is your sister-in-law. Is that how you speak to family?” My parents’ faces hardened. They looked at me not like a daughter, but like a disruption. Like an intruder. Seeing that the entire family was backing her, Brittany practically glowed with self-righteousness. She pointed a manicured finger directly at my face. “I knew you were a piece of work! You’re just bullying me because we haven’t signed the marriage papers yet!” she shrieked. “Go look in the mirror, Jocelyn! You’re nearly thirty, still leaching off your parents, refusing to move out! I’ve been nice enough to tolerate you this long!” I stared at her, the blood roaring in my ears. “What exactly do you mean by that?” She pointed toward the front door. “This is my house. And I want you to get the hell out. Now.” 3 I froze. The air in the room seemed to vanish. This house… I bought this house. Every single month, the mortgage payment came out of my bank account. How, in God’s name, had it become her house? She wasn’t even married to him yet, and she was already evicting me? I turned my head slowly, looking at my parents. I expected them to intervene, to shut this down, to tell Brittany she had crossed a line. Instead, I saw them shrink back, their eyes shifting nervously, thoroughly bathed in guilt. A cold, heavy weight dropped into the pit of my stomach. Derek cleared his throat. “Look, you have that apartment downtown anyway,” he mumbled, refusing to look me in the eye. “Brittany is pregnant. Her emotions are fragile right now. Maybe it’s best if you just… move out for a while.” I looked at my brother. My lips parted, but no sound came out. Had he completely erased the memory of the day we closed on this house? Had he forgotten standing in the kitchen, swearing to me: “You bought this house for the family, Jocelyn. I will never forget what you’ve done. No matter what happens, you will always have a place here.” I turned back to my parents. My last lifeline. “And you?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “Do you want me to leave, too?” “She is pregnant, Jocelyn,” my mother said softly. It was hilarious. It was a cosmic, suffocating joke. This was the family I had bled for. The family I had shielded and supported with every ounce of my energy. And for a woman who hadn’t even walked down the aisle yet, they were linking arms to throw me to the wolves. “Fine.” The word tasted like ash. “I’ll go.” I grabbed my purse from the counter and turned toward the door. If they didn’t want me as their family, then I wouldn’t be their family. I walked out the front door, the cool evening air hitting my burning cheeks. Despite my rage, hot, pathetic tears spilled over my eyelashes. “Jocelyn!” My mother’s voice called out from the porch. I stopped at the edge of the driveway. I wiped my face roughly with the back of my hand and turned around. My heart did a stupid, desperate little flutter. I knew it, I thought. She loves me. She can’t stand to watch her daughter walk away like this. My mother jogged down the steps, stopping a few feet away from me. “Tomorrow at 2:00 PM,” she said, her chest heaving slightly. “Don’t forget we need to go to the dealership to pick up your brother’s car. The astrologer said that’s the absolute best window for good fortune.” I stared at her. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. “Mom,” I breathed out. “Did you chase after me… just to tell me that?” She nodded briskly. “If there’s nothing else, you should head out. I need to get back inside and figure out dinner for Brittany. She’s carrying my grandchild; she can’t be hungry.” She turned her back to me and walked up the driveway. She never looked back. In that exact moment, something inside my chest quietly, permanently snapped. The frantic beating of my heart slowed to a dull, hollow thud. I knew, with absolute certainty, that I no longer had a home. I swallowed the lump in my throat. I pulled out my phone, opened the family group chat, and hit Leave Group. Then, I opened my banking app. I navigated to the auto-pay settings for the house mortgage. Cancel. If they had a new family now, their new family could figure out how to pay for the roof over their heads.

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The notification from the company-wide Slack channel, five hundred people strong, popped up on my phone like a slap in the face. It was Meredith, my husband’s executive assistant. She hadn’t just messaged me; she’d @-mentioned me in the general channel for everyone to see. “@Joyce, you used Brandon’s shared business account for a four-dollar latte yesterday. Please reimburse the petty cash fund by 5:00 PM today. Accounting needs to reconcile the books.” I stared at the screen, my heart hammering against my ribs. I’d used the “Family Share” card Brandon had given me years ago. It was a coffee. A four-dollar latte. Before I could even type a response, Brandon—my husband of five years—replied in the thread. “Rules are rules,” he wrote. “We don’t use company funds for personal matters. Joyce, please clear this up with Meredith. Don’t make her job harder than it already is.” The channel went dead silent for a heartbeat before a wave of “Acknowledged” and various “thumbs up” emojis began to flood the screen. People were watching. They were savoring it. Meredith replied with a blowing-kiss emoji. “Thanks for the support, Boss! @Joyce, Venmo or Zelle?” I looked at my reflection in the darkened phone screen and let out a sharp, dry laugh. Brandon seemed to have developed a very convenient case of amnesia. He forgot that the seed money for this company came from my inheritance. He forgot that the corner office he was sitting in right now? The deed to that building was in my name, and my name alone. I opened Venmo, sent the money, and typed a single sentence in the group chat: “Done. It won’t happen again.” Thirty minutes later, I called my attorney. I didn’t just ask for a consultation; I gave an order. I revoked every personal guarantee I had signed for the Logan Group. And then, I called a commercial real estate broker. “List the Madison Avenue building,” I told him. “Market value. I want it gone yesterday.” I wanted to see how long his “rules” would hold up once the “Bank of Joyce” closed its doors for good. … The Slack channel was a ghost town of awkward silence, even as the “Read” receipts ticked up. Everyone was grabbing popcorn. Meredith accepted the Venmo payment instantly and posted a screenshot of the receipt: “Payment received! Thanks for being a team player, Joyce.” Team player? Go to hell, I thought. I didn’t reply. I simply logged out and deleted the app from my phone. Brandon’s name flashed across my screen seconds later. I let it ring. He tried again. Then came the text. Joyce, don’t overreact about the chat. We’re in the middle of a Series B funding round. Everything has to be by the book. Meredith is just doing her job. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a blue checkmark. Another text followed: My mom wants us over for dinner tonight. She says it’s important. His mom. Not mine. My mother had passed away three years ago. Before she went, she’d signed over every asset—the properties, the trust, and the office building Brandon used as his headquarters—to me. Back then, I’d been the naive girl in love. I’d hugged Brandon and told him, “Honey, we don’t have to worry about the lease anymore. We’re set.” He’d kissed me, whispering, “I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret this.” Three years. For three years, I’d played the role of “Mrs. Logan.” I went from Joyce the Investor to Brandon’s Wife. From the woman with the capital to the “plus-one.” Yesterday, I’d left my personal wallet at home and used the shared card for one damn coffee. Four dollars. And today, Meredith was sent to collect the debt in front of five hundred people. Brandon himself had stepped on my neck to prove a point about “compliance.” I laughed, a cold sound in my empty living room. I’d been too good. Too quiet. Too supportive. I decided to go to the dinner. Not for Brandon, but to see what new brand of audacity his mother, Beatrice, was planning to serve. When I arrived, the house was packed. Brandon’s parents, his brother and his brother’s wife, his sister—they were all there, drinking expensive wine and gossiping in the foyer. Brandon hurried over. “Joyce, you’re here. Good. Come sit.” I ignored his hand and found a seat in the corner. Beatrice glanced at me, then turned back to her daughter-in-law. “…and the bag! Brandon had Meredith source it from Paris. It’s a limited edition. He told me, ‘Mom, you’ve worked so hard for us, you deserve the best.’” His brother’s wife sighed. “You’re so lucky, Bea. Such a devoted son.” I scrolled through my phone, acting like I was deaf. Brandon leaned in close, his voice a low murmur. “Joyce, look, Mom wants to talk about the equity structure tonight.” I looked up. “Equity?” “Yeah,” he whispered, his eyes darting around. “The investors for the Series B want a clean cap table. Mom’s thinking it would be better if your shares were… held in the company’s name for a while. Just a formality. We’ll transfer them back after the round closes.” I looked at him, and for the first time, I saw a stranger. Five years ago, this man had waited outside my office every day with wildflowers because he knew I liked the ones that grew by the tracks. My mother had warned me. She said he was a “climber,” that he wasn’t in my league. I’d pulled on her sleeve and begged. “Mom, he loves me. That’s all that matters.” She’d sighed and given in. I’d poured my savings into his dream. She’d given us the building as a wedding gift. Now, he was the “CEO,” and I was the housewife who needed to be told how to spend four dollars. “A formality?” I asked. “Exactly. Just a signature. The lawyers have the paperwork ready.” I didn’t say yes. I didn’t say no. I just asked, “Did you know about the Slack message? Before she sent it?” He hesitated. “What message?” “Meredith. The petty cash thing.” His expression shifted—a flicker of guilt, quickly replaced by an annoyed frown. “Joyce, I already explained that. The audit—” “I asked if you knew she was going to do it.” Silence. It lasted only two seconds, but that was all the answer I needed. I stood up, my face a mask of calm. “I’ll think about the shares.” Beatrice overheard. She chimed in immediately. “Think about what? We’re family, Joyce. Brandon would never steer you wrong. Honestly, you’re being a bit sensitive. That business in the group chat today? That was your own fault for not following protocol. Meredith was right. A dollar is a dollar. Business is business.” I looked at her and smiled. “You’re right, Bea. A dollar is a dollar.” She didn’t catch the edge in my voice. She just kept rambling. “Exactly! Brandon is a big deal now. He has a reputation to maintain. As his wife, you should be his biggest supporter, not a liability…” Brandon tugged at her arm. “Mom, that’s enough.” I grabbed my coat. Brandon followed me to the door, his voice tight with suppressed rage. “Joyce! Where are you going?” I didn’t look back. The next morning, my lawyer called. “Joyce, I finished the deep dive you asked for.” “Go ahead.” “The Logan Group has taken out sixty million in loans over the last three years. The collateral? The Madison Avenue building—your building. Also, there’s a residential property in Greenwich. Brandon bought it in cash last year. It’s registered solely in his mother’s name, Beatrice Logan.” I stood by my window, looking out at the city skyline. Sixty million. A cash villa for his mother. He was mortgaging my mother’s legacy to buy his mother a palace. And he was publicly shaming me over four dollars. It was almost poetic. “Is the building listed yet?” “Yes. We already have an interested buyer at a hundred and twenty million.” “Sell it. Now.” “Joyce, the building is currently tied up as collateral for the bank loans…” “I’ll cover the bridge loan to clear the title. Sell the building, pay off the debt, and wire the remaining balance to my private account.” “Understood.” I hung up and dialed another number. “Mr. Henderson? It’s Joyce. From the Logan accounts.” “Joyce! Good to hear from you. What can I do for you?” “I have several personal guarantees on file for the Logan Group’s credit lines. I’m calling to formally revoke them. Effective immediately.” There was a long pause. “Joyce… you realize Brandon is your husband? This will trigger an immediate review of their liquidity.” “I’m aware. Do it.” “…Alright. I’ll start the paperwork.” I opened my phone. The family group chat had 99+ messages. Brandon’s sister was posting photos of her kids. No one mentioned yesterday. No one asked how I was. I muted the chat and booked a one-way flight to Key West. When Brandon and I got married, he promised me a honeymoon. Then the company launched, and he was “too busy.” He promised me the Maldives for our third anniversary. Instead, he took a client to Pebble Beach. I’d stopped asking. It wasn’t the travel I’d been waiting for. It was the feeling that I mattered. I didn’t. I never had. When my plane touched down, I turned on my phone. Twenty missed calls. Eighteen texts. The last one read: Joyce, where the hell are you? Mom says you’re not at the house. Did you go to your mother’s place? There’s no one even there anymore. I sent back one word: Florida. Then, I blocked him. In the family chat, his sister posted: Wait, Joyce’s in Key West? Alone? Brandon didn’t reply. I posted a photo of the sunset over the Gulf. Caption: Solo trip. Exactly what I needed. The chat exploded. Joyce, what is going on? Did Brandon know about this? Why would you go so far away by yourself? Finally, Brandon appeared: Joyce, what the hell is this? I replied: A vacation. You said you were too busy to go, so I’m going for myself. He replied instantly: You’re acting— He didn’t finish the thought. I knew what he wanted to say. You’re acting crazy. I wasn’t crazy. I was finally awake. The next morning, I woke up to the sound of the ocean. The humidity was like a warm hug. I sat on my balcony with a coffee—a very expensive one—and just breathed. My phone rang. It was Gillian, Brandon’s sister. “Hey,” I answered. “Joyce, where are you staying? Brandon is losing his mind. He told me to tell you…” “Tell me what?” “He said… he said if you’re done throwing your tantrum, you need to come home. There’s paperwork for the company that needs your signature by Friday.” “The equity transfer?” “Yeah. The lawyers said it has to be you.” I watched a sailboat on the horizon. “Tell him to keep waiting.” I hung up and texted my lawyer: Stall the equity. I’m not signing a thing. He replied: Understood. Also, the bank just confirmed. Since you pulled your guarantees, Logan Group’s loans are under ‘special mention.’ They’re likely going to call the debt. “Call the debt.” Such a beautiful, clinical phrase. “Let them,” I whispered to the sea. That afternoon, the family chat was buzzing again. Gillian had posted: Mom, is that bag real? My friend said that model is waitlist-only in the States. How did Meredith get it? Beatrice replied: Of course it’s real. Brandon wouldn’t lie to me. Someone @-ed me: Joyce, when are you back? What are the plans for New Year’s? I replied: Not sure. Depends on my mood. Silence for three beats. Brandon: Joyce, enough. We’re family. Stop acting out. I laughed out loud. Acting out. Like I was a child. I replied: I’m not acting out. I’m just busy. That night, I was halfway through a lobster dinner when my phone rang. An unknown number. “Joyce? It’s Meredith.” Her voice was sweet, professional, none of that “petty cash” bite from the Slack channel. “Yes?” “Joyce, Brandon asked me to reach out. There’s an emergency at the office, and we really need you to fly back. Also, I wanted to apologize for the other day. I was just following the new audit protocols, I didn’t mean for it to be personal.” I took a slow sip of my wine. “Apologize? No need, Meredith. You were right. A dollar is a dollar. Business is business.” She faltered. “Joyce, please don’t be like that…” “I’m being exactly what you asked me to be,” I said. “By the way, Meredith, how long have you been with Brandon?” “Three years.” “Three years. Then you know how the company started, right? If you don’t, go ask the CFO to show you the original wire transfer for the startup capital. Check which account it came from.” “Joyce—” “Enjoy the bag, Meredith. I’m hanging up now.” The next day, my lawyer sent a one-sentence email: It’s happening. What is? I asked. The bank notified them. Without your guarantee, they’re re-evaluating the risk. They’re demanding full repayment of the sixty million by the end of the month. Sixty million. Brandon didn’t have sixty million. He had a fancy office, a fleet of leased cars, and a mother with a Greenwich villa she couldn’t afford to heat. Keep me posted, I wrote. A few minutes later, another text: The Madison Avenue buyer is firm at a hundred and thirty million. They want to close in ten days. Done. Sell it. I texted Gillian: Hey, that villa Brandon bought for your mom last year… it’s in her name, right? Gillian replied almost instantly: Yeah, why? Just curious. Is she happy there? She loves it. Why are you asking all these questions? No reason. Just thinking about the future. By evening, the family chat was a bonfire. Brandon’s brother, Ben, posted: Brandon, what the hell? The bank just called. They’re saying the business line is frozen? Brandon didn’t respond. Beatrice: Frozen? What does that mean? Brandon, honey, call me! I posted a selfie from the beach. The sun was a perfect orange orb. Today’s sunset was breathtaking. The chat went dead. Then Gillian sent a private DM: Joyce, what did you do? Mom is hysterical. I replied: I’m on vacation, Gillian. I have no idea what you’re talking about. I spent the next three days in paradise. Spa treatments, boutique shopping, long walks on the sand. Every time I checked the family chat, it was pure chaos. “Loan recalls,” “Liquidity crisis,” “Bankruptcy.” Brandon started blowing up my phone with @-mentions in the group. [Joyce, answer your phone.] [Joyce, when are you coming back?] [Joyce, we’re family. We can talk about this. Don’t be cruel!] [Joyce! You’re going to destroy everything!] [Joyce! I know what you’re doing! You think I can’t stop you?]

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When my phone suddenly vibrated against my palm, I was staring at my own exhausted reflection in the dark glass of the subway window. I was running on ten consecutive nights of overtime. I swiped the screen, hoping for some mindless scrolling to take the edge off, but instead, I was ambushed by my mother’s latest TikTok update. Two videos, posted side-by-side. They hit me like twin slaps to the face. My older sister’s video featured her latest heavily-filtered selfie. The caption read: Whoever gets my gorgeous girl is blessed! If this gets enough views, Mama’s buying her a condo! In the video, her smile was exactly as sweet as I remembered it being on the day she stole my favorite butterfly hair clip. Then, there was my video. For mine, my mother had dug up a twenty-year-old photograph. A little girl with pigtails, sitting on the floor, red-faced and sobbing. The stolen butterfly clip was clearly visible, pinned into the hair of the older girl standing next to her. It wasn’t until my fingertips went numb from the drafty train car that I finally processed the text floating beneath my childhood tears: Whoever gets my youngest, beware. If this gets enough views, I’m pawning her off to that divorced guy with the real estate money. The automated voice announcing the next stop jolted me awake. The harsh glare of the phone screen illuminated my pale face. So, the physical ache in my chest wasn’t just my imagination. 1 I looked down. There was an iMessage from my sister, Phoebe. Did you see Mom’s TikTok? Don’t take it to heart, okay? You know how she is, she’s just making content. Before I could even formulate a response, a voice note popped up. Against the screeching metal of the subway, the audio played. Phoebe’s giggles and my mother’s voice rang out, louder and clearer than the blood rushing in my ears. “Phoebe, ignore her,” my mother was saying in the background. “She’s always been overly sensitive. Let her see it. What’s she gonna do about it anyway?” Another voice note dropped in. “Oh my god, Mom, stop recording!” Phoebe was laughing. “Tell the internet how you really feel about my little sister.” “I’m just telling the truth! She holds grudges. She’s been like that since she was a baby. You give her an inch, she takes a mile…” The audio cut off. I gripped my phone. Standing in the middle of a packed commuter train, shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers, I had no idea what my face was doing. The screen dimmed, then went black. I still didn’t know what to type. Then, the phone started ringing. It was Mom. The second I hit accept, the barrage started. “Nina. Your sister says you’re leaving her on read. What is your problem?” “She goes out of her way to be nice and comfort you, and you throw a tantrum? Who do you think you are?” “You’re just gonna play dead? Is that it?” Her voice was piercing. My phone speaker was cheap, and the tinny, aggressive sound bled out into the quiet car. A few people looked over. I shrank back against the doors, dropping my voice to a whisper. “I wasn’t ignoring her. I was just about to—” “Save it. I don’t have the patience.” She cut me off. “Next week. You have a date. The guy Mrs. Higgins set up, the one whose family sold all that land to the commercial developers. You are going.” “He just inherited a massive payout, and he’s an only child.” “Yeah, his first wife filed a restraining order, but he likes that you’re young and know how to keep a house. He’s willing to write a fifty-thousand-dollar check to the family as a ‘gift’ if you marry him.” My nails bit into the meat of my palm. “Mom. I’m a human being. I’m not livestock.” Dead silence on the line for two beats. Then, a sharp, ugly laugh. “Livestock?” Her voice spiked an octave. “You think you’re so much better than livestock?” “You bring home pennies every month. If I don’t arrange this for you, you’re going to die alone in a roach motel!” “I make four thousand a month,” I said, my voice shaking. “Four thousand?” She scoffed. “Your sister makes a grand on a single sponsored post. She pulls in ten grand a month easy, not even counting her live-stream donations.” “You think your four grand makes you a queen?” “Listen to me. If you ghost this guy next week, I will personally drive to your office, sit in the lobby, and let your entire company know what a selfish, ungrateful bitch of a daughter you are!” She hung up. The train rolled into my stop. I stepped out into the damp subterranean air. Opening my phone, I saw a new post on Phoebe’s Instagram. I swiped through the carousel of photos. Her nails were freshly done. I knew the salon; I’d seen the prices in the window. A hundred and fifty bucks, minimum. Her bag was a designer knockoff, but a high-end one. A coworker had bought the same one—seven hundred dollars. I scrolled down to the comments. It was a chorus of adoration. Gorgeous as always, P! Your mom is so supportive, so jealous! Eldest daughter energy! You can tell you were raised with so much love. Phoebe had replied with a blushing emoji. I lowered the phone to my thigh and stared up at the peeling paint on the station ceiling. In my pinned text thread with my mother, the last time she had reached out to me voluntarily was three months ago. The text read: Your sister just posted. Go like it and leave a comment. Scrolling up further: Demands to share Phoebe’s videos. Demands to send Phoebe five hundred dollars from my paycheck because she “needed an upgrade for her vlogging camera.” I had sent the money. I had liked the posts. I had left the comments. I opened my own camera roll and swiped. The last time someone took a picture of me was three years ago, at a mandatory company retreat. A group shot taken by a coworker. I was in the back row, half my face obscured by someone else’s shoulder. The last time someone complimented me was last month, when I covered a double shift for a coworker. She had said, Nina, you’re a lifesaver. The last time someone told me they loved me… I couldn’t remember. Just like I couldn’t remember exactly when I had become the ghost haunting my own family. 2 Saturday arrived like an execution date. I stood outside the diner for ten minutes, watching the condensation drip down the glass windows, unable to force myself inside. Through the glass, I could see him. A balding man in a severely wrinkled polo shirt, hunched over his phone. A second later, my phone buzzed. My mother’s voice sliced through the speaker. “I can see you standing out there like an idiot. Get inside.” I pushed the door open. The blast of over-air-conditioned air hit me, thick with the smell of old grease and burnt coffee. “Trent, this is my daughter. Nina.” The balding man looked up. His eyes dragged up from my face to my chest, down to my hips, and back up again. He looked like a man inspecting a cut of beef at a discount butcher. My mother hovered, practically vibrating with eager energy as she poured him water. “So, Trent, what do you think? She cleans up nice, right?” “She’s got good skin, she’s tall, she knows how to work hard. Pulls in decent money in the city.” “Decent?” Trent sneered, his lip curling. “Girls working the line at the Amazon warehouse make that much with overtime.” “And my mom said she’s twenty-four. Where I’m from, that’s expired goods.” “Plus, I hear she’s got a sister with all kinds of medical issues.” He squinted at me. “She ain’t sickly too, is she?” He leaned back, his eyes catching on my chest again. “Got any boobs? My mom says flat girls have narrow hips. Bad for breeding.” The blood rushed to my face so fast it burned. I shoved my chair back and stood up. My mother’s hand clamped around my wrist like a vice. Her nails dug deep into the soft skin over my pulse point. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a venomous hiss. “Nina. You walk out that door, and you are dead to me.” I pressed my lips together until they tasted like copper. Slowly, I sank back into the vinyl booth. Trent smirked, satisfied. He flicked a sugar packet across the table. “My family name dies with me if I don’t have a boy. When we get married, you’re giving me a son.” “And if it’s a girl, we try again. Until I get a boy. End of discussion.” The waitress arrived, sliding a heavy plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes onto the table, placing it right in front of me. Trent immediately reached across, hooked a finger around the rim of the plate, and dragged it to his side of the table. “Women shouldn’t eat heavy carbs. You get fat, it ruins your fertility.” My mother laughed—a high, grating sound. “Right, right, you’re absolutely right! She used to be so chubby as a kid. Hogged all her sister’s nutrients in the womb. She could stand to lose a few.” The waitress dropped off a few more sides. Trent hoarded all of them on his side of the centerline. When the dust settled, I was left with a side salad and a cup of scalding hot tomato bisque. I took a bite of the dry lettuce. It tasted like ash. Beside me, my mother was practically pitching a business proposal. “Her sister has delicate health, you know. Can’t do heavy lifting.” “So Nina here dropped out of community college to work. She’s so dutiful. Sends money home every single month.” “Paid her sister’s way through state college!” “That’s fine,” Trent mumbled around a mouthful of meatloaf. “But once we’re married, that money goes to my house. I got property taxes to pay.” “Of course, of course! Once she marries you, she belongs to your family.” I took a slow sip of water. I listened to them negotiate the terms of my life like I was a used Honda Civic. Trent picked his teeth with a straw wrapper, having finally exhausted his list of demands. “Alright. Good enough for today. I’ll go back and run it by my mom.” I had been quiet for so long that when I finally spoke, they both flinched. “Are you finished?” I asked. He blinked, confused. “Yeah. Why?” I picked up the heavy ceramic mug of steaming tomato bisque, leaned over the table, and upended the entire thing over his bald head. He shrieked—a high, reedy sound—and leaped out of the booth. The heavy mug hit the linoleum floor and shattered. “You crazy bitch!” He wiped frantically at his face. His skin was already blistering red from the heat, soup dripping from his nose onto his wrinkled collar. He pointed a shaking finger at me, his voice cracking. “You psychotic bitch! I’m calling the cops!” My mother lunged at me. Her hand connected with my cheek. The slap cracked through the diner like a gunshot. I stumbled sideways. The left side of my face was on fire, a high-pitched ringing echoing in my ear. “Nina, you ungrateful, feral animal!” 3 My mother’s voice was shrill enough to shatter glass. “I bust my ass to find you a decent man, and you ruin it! You humiliate me!” “Do you have any idea how much money he’s sitting on? Do you know what you just threw away with a bowl of soup?!” Trent was still hopping mad, dabbing at his scalp with a napkin. “That cash I was gonna give you for your other daughter’s house? Forget it! You’re not getting a dime from me!” “You really thought fifty grand would get me to put up with this psycho?” “Go to hell!” My mother turned to him, physically folding herself into a posture of subservience I had never seen from her. She bowed her head, her voice pleading, desperate. “Trent, I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry. There is something wrong with her brain, I swear to God, she’s been unbalanced since she was a kid!” “Please, don’t hold this against us! I’ll pay for the dry cleaning! I’ll pay for medical bills! Whatever you need!” “We can still negotiate the house money, please…” It was only then, watching her grovel, that the final piece clicked into place. I was just a down payment. My entire existence, my future, my body—it was all just collateral to secure fifty thousand dollars for Phoebe’s new house. I stood paralyzed, staring at my mother’s hunched back. She was capable of begging. She was capable of saying “please.” Just never for me. I paid the diner for the broken mug. When we finally stepped out into the parking lot, the afternoon sun was so bright it physically hurt my eyes. The last thing my mother said to me was: “From this day forward, I have no younger daughter.” She turned and walked away. She didn’t look back once. I watched her figure get smaller and smaller until she turned a corner. Then, I walked into a convenience store next door and bought the cheapest, most sugary iced tea in the fridge. I sat on the curb and drank it. I didn’t understand why, despite the high-fructose corn syrup, it tasted so unbearably bitter. So bitter that my tears broke, hot and fast, splashing onto the concrete between my sneakers. My phone vibrated in my pocket. Once. Twice. Phoebe. I heard you threw soup on your date? Mom is at home crying hysterically. She says you humiliated our family. Nina, you crossed a line. Do you know how hard Mom worked to secure this connection? Is this how you repay her? I didn’t type a reply. Instead, my mind drifted back to the photo in that TikTok video. I couldn’t actually remember what color the butterfly clip was. I only remembered what my mother said to me that day. “Your sister is delicate. Give it to her. You need to learn to yield.” I was five years old. After that day, I yielded everything. The chicken drumstick at dinner. The bedroom with the good sunlight. Even the tuition money that was supposed to go toward my degree. All because of my mother’s favorite mantra: “You stole her nutrients in the womb. You owe her.” I was twenty-four now. And they wanted me to yield the rest of my life. But I was done yielding. That afternoon, I called a lawyer. I had them draft a formal Declaration of Estrangement. Attached to it was an itemized, legally binding ledger. Every single dollar I had ever sent home, every expense I had covered for them since I was a teenager, calculated down to the cent. The total sum far, far exceeded the basic cost of keeping me alive for eighteen years. A week later, I walked back into my mother’s house with the paperwork in hand. When I opened the door, she was helping Phoebe film a video. Two incredibly similar faces, beaming at the camera, their eyes crinkling at the exact same angle. And when they noticed me, the identical way their smiles collapsed into scowls was almost poetic. “What are you doing here?” my mother snapped. “There is no space for you in this house.” “I threw your junk in the dumpster. Your old room is Phoebe’s filming studio now.” Phoebe gently tugged at my mother’s sleeve, offering me a look of practiced, sweet condescension. “Nina, don’t take it to heart. Mom’s just still upset.” “I went and talked to Mrs. Higgins. The engagement can still happen.” “Except, Trent dropped the cash gift down to thirty grand because of your little stunt.” “So, you just need to pull twenty grand out of your savings to cover the difference, and Mom will forgive you. You can still be part of this family.” 4 A laugh bubbled up in my throat, sharp and hysterical. The heavy legal envelope in my hand was crumpled where I had been gripping it. There must have been some pathetic, microscopic sliver of hope left in me, because I went quiet for a moment before I asked, “The house you’re buying. Whose name is going on the deed?” Before Phoebe could even open her mouth, my mother shrieked like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “You greedy little bitch!” “You sucked your sister dry in the womb, and now you want her real estate?!” “You’re not leaving this house. I’m calling Trent to come pick you up right now.” “And hand over your debit card. Everything in your account belongs to your sister now to make up for what you cost her.” I pressed my lips together, tasting the salt of a tear I hadn’t even realized had fallen. A long moment passed. When I finally spoke, my voice trembled, but not from fear. “Keep dreaming.” Under the shocked stares of my mother and sister, my voice steadied, hardening into steel. I pulled out the itemized ledger and slapped it on the coffee table. “Every dime I have ever spent on you. Every transfer, every bill, every grocery run. It’s all there.” “I don’t owe anyone a damn thing.” I locked eyes with my mother. Her chest was heaving, her face purple with rage, but I didn’t let her speak. “You said it yourself. You have no younger daughter.” “Sign the papers. Once you do, we are nothing to each other. We are strangers.” Phoebe looked between me and the paperwork, her eyes wide, sensing that the dynamic had irrevocably shifted. My mother snatched the pen off the table. She practically tore through the paper as she aggressively scrawled her signature at the bottom. She threw the pen at me. Her finger shook as she pointed it at my face. “Fine! Fine!” “You think you’re so tough, Nina?” “You think you don’t need us?! You’ll be crawling back here on your knees, begging me to let you in, and I will let you rot on the porch!” I carefully picked up the signed papers, folded them neatly, and slid them into my inside jacket pocket. I opened my mouth to say something—a final, dignified goodbye. But I looked at them and realized there were no words left. So I turned around, walked out the door, and broke into a sprint toward the apartment complex dumpsters. Behind me, the front door hadn’t fully clicked shut. Their voices leaked out into the hallway. “Why did you let her leave? Who is going to pay the electric bill now?!” Phoebe was whining. “I don’t have liquid cash for that! I need my money for clothes for my channel!” My mother—no, Barbara. Just Barbara now. Her voice was dripping with smug certainty. “Where do you think that stupid girl is going to go?” “Give it forty-eight hours. She’ll be back here crying. Honestly, that guy Trent was a bit of a creep anyway, otherwise she wouldn’t have snapped like that.” I almost laughed again. Even she knew Trent was a monster. And she still tried to sell the rest of my life to him. When I reached the dumpsters, I climbed in, digging frantically through bags of rotting food and discarded junk. I was looking for one thing. A hand-knit sweater my late grandmother had made for me. It was the only piece of true warmth I had ever experienced in that house. I found it buried under a trash bag just as the sanitation truck was pulling onto the block. As I stood by the curb, clutching the filthy, torn sweater to my chest, my phone buzzed. An email from my company’s HR department. Nina, your request for the transfer has been approved. You start at the New York City branch next Monday. Please confirm your acceptance. I stared at the screen. Tears were streaming down my face, mixing with the grime and dumpster juice on my cheeks. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, leaving a smear of dark grease across my jaw. The screen dimmed. It was waiting for my answer. I typed: I accept. Then, I opened my contacts, found the numbers listed under “Mom” and “Phoebe,” and hit Delete.

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The day the company-wide promotion announcements were released, I discovered that the project I had bled over for three solid months—my crowning achievement—had been gift-wrapped and handed to someone else. I didn’t storm into a manager’s office to argue. I didn’t demand an explanation. I simply opened my laptop and began drafting my resignation letter. When a colleague from HR happened to walk by and saw my screen, her eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you absolutely sure about this? If you walk away now, you forfeit your entire year-end bonus.” I offered her a faint, polite smile and gave her a definitive yes. After packing my personal belongings, I walked out of the corporate lobby with a cardboard box in my arms. I certainly hadn’t expected to run into the CEO’s wife on my way out. She was walking arm-in-arm with her best friend. When she saw me, a sugary, practiced smile stretched across her face. “Valerie, honey, don’t take this to heart. We only floated your name for the promotion so that Paige could seamlessly take over the reins. You’re a smart girl. You understand how these things work, right?” I stopped in my tracks, my gaze perfectly calm as it met hers. I let the silence hang for a moment before I spoke. “I’m sorry, Victoria. I actually just finished processing my resignation. That promotion you’re dangling? I don’t need it anymore.” 01 The red notification banner flashed across the top of the company intranet. An update regarding the latest personnel appointments. I clicked it. My eyes dropped instinctively to the line that read: Head of Project Orion. Paige Bingham. Not my name. I scrolled down. At the very bottom of the project roster, listed as an afterthought, was my name. Title: Assistant. A chat window popped up on the bottom right of my screen. It was from Kevin, a junior developer on my team. He sent a wide-eyed, shocked emoji. Followed by a single line of text: “Val, what the hell is this?” I didn’t reply. My phone vibrated on the desk. Another colleague. “How could they do this? You’ve practically lived here for the last three months for this project.” I placed my phone face-down on the desk. The open-plan office was suffocatingly quiet. Only the staccato clatter of keyboards and the low, steady hum of the HVAC system filled the air. My peripheral vision caught the shifting gazes of the people at the surrounding desks. Occasionally, a pair of eyes would dart in my direction. Some held pity. Others held quiet amusement. I looked up. My gaze collided directly with Paige’s. She was sitting in a corner cubicle a few rows away. A smug, self-satisfied smirk played on her lips. There was a glint of provocation in her eyes, as if she were silently gloating: Look at how hard you worked, and look where it got you. I looked away, my eyes returning to the official red-lettered document on my screen. I had built Project Orion from the ground up. From the initial pitch deck to the grueling technical troubleshooting that followed. Ninety-six days. For ninety-six days, I hadn’t seen the inside of my apartment before midnight. For two consecutive weekends, I had slept on a terrible air mattress shoved under my desk. I had emailed the final version of the project architecture at 4:00 AM yesterday. And now, it was someone else’s triumph. It had become the stepping stone for Paige’s meteoric rise. I closed the browser tab. My hand moved the mouse with mechanical precision, double-clicking a folder labeled Personal Documents. Inside was a template. Resignation_Form.pdf. I opened it. Under Name, I typed: Valerie Dalton. Department: R&D. Start Date: Exactly three years ago today. Reason for leaving. I paused. My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I typed four words. Pursuing external career opportunities. The printer in the corner whirred to life, humming as it spat out the document. I stood up and walked toward it. As I picked up the paper—still warm from the ink—I could feel the collective weight of the office’s stare following me. I didn’t look at any of them. I walked straight down the hallway to the corner office at the end. The HR Director’s office. A Do Not Disturb sign hung on the frosted glass. I knocked anyway. “Come in.” The voice sounded worn thin. I pushed the door open. David, the HR Director, was leaning back in his ergonomic chair, aggressively massaging his temples. When he saw me, his brow furrowed in surprise. “Valerie? What’s up?” I placed the single sheet of paper squarely in the center of his desk. “David, I’m resigning.” The exhaustion vanished from his face, replaced instantly by shock. He picked up the paper, his eyes darting back and forth across the minimal text. “Valerie, what is the meaning of this?” His voice ticked up an octave. “Is this about the promotion announcement?” I looked at him. My voice was eerily steady. “I’ve made my decision, David.” He slapped the paper down on the desk. Smack. “This is ridiculous!” He stood up, pacing the short length of his office. “Do you have any idea what time of year it is?” “It’s the end of Q4.” “Exactly! If you walk out that door right now, you forfeit every single cent of your year-end bonus! The project completion bonus for Orion, the company-wide profit share—have you actually thought this through?” I nodded. “I have.” “Money is a good thing,” I said softly. “But I refuse to get on my knees to earn it.” David’s face turned a mottled shade of red. He clearly hadn’t expected me to be this blunt. He sank back into his chair, taking a deep breath to recalibrate his tone. “Valerie, listen to me. I know you’re angry,” he said, adopting the placating tone of a father scolding a dramatic teenager. “And frankly, the executive team could have handled the optics of this better. But you have to look at the big picture here. The company has its… complexities.” I said nothing. I just let him talk. “You know who Paige is connected to. Victoria Caldwell personally made the recommendation.” He leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Sometimes, raw talent isn’t the only metric we have to measure by in the corporate world.” He sounded so earnest. So deeply entrenched in the toxicity that he truly believed he was giving me sage advice. “Go back to your desk. Take a walk. Cool off,” he urged. “We’ll pretend this piece of paper never crossed my desk. Let’s get through the holidays, and in the new year, I promise I’ll advocate for a better title for you. Deal?” I pulled out the chair across from his desk and sat down. “David.” “I built this project out of thin air. You, of all people, know that.” “I ran the weekly stand-ups. I built every slide in the pitch deck. I crunched the backend data. Paige didn’t show her face at a single milestone meeting.” David’s eyes flickered away, suddenly finding the edge of his monitor fascinating. “I know. The whole floor knows how hard you worked. The firm won’t forget that.” I let out a short, hollow laugh. “The firm already forgot. It’s written in black and white on the intranet.” My tone remained perfectly composed, but I made sure every word landed like a hammer striking an anvil. “So, save the pep talk. Please sign the paperwork. I intend to complete my offboarding by the end of the day.” David stared at me for a long, heavy moment. Whatever thread of patience he had left finally snapped. He grabbed a pen and aggressively scrawled his signature across the bottom of my resignation. He yanked open a drawer, pulled out a standard exit checklist, and practically threw it across the desk. “Do what you want,” he said, his voice turning glacial. “Finish the checklist and get out.” I picked up the paper. “Thank you, David.” I stood up and walked out. As the door clicked shut behind me, I heard him mutter, “Ungrateful.” 02 I returned to my desk. The office was so quiet it felt like a tomb. Everyone was violently pretending to look busy, though I knew every ear on the floor was straining to listen. Paige’s chair was empty. She was probably doing a victory lap in the marketing department. I woke up my computer and started running through the checklist. Step one: Knowledge transfer. I needed to designate a point of contact for my handover. I opened the internal directory, found Paige’s name, and routed the transfer request to her inbox. Then, I started the purge. I gathered every piece of proprietary project data, sorted it meticulously into the appropriate directories, and compressed it into a single, encrypted master file. I set up the automated handover protocol to deliver the decryption key upon my final exit clearance. Then came my personal intellectual property. My private coding notebooks, my custom scripts, my personal files. I selected all of it. And hit Permanently Delete. A warning box flashed: These files will be permanently deleted and cannot be recovered. Do you wish to continue? I clicked Yes. The progress bar zipped to 100%. This machine, which had been my lifeline for three years, was suddenly as sterile as the day it was unboxed. Next was the physical cleanup. I didn’t have much. A ceramic mug with a cat on it. A resilient little succulent I’d kept alive by a miracle. A few reference books. A lumbar pillow. A folded fleece blanket I kept in the bottom drawer for the nights the AC was too aggressive. I found a cardboard box in the supply closet and started placing my life inside it, moving with a steady, unhurried rhythm. Kevin, at the desk next to mine, finally cracked. He rolled his chair over, keeping his voice to a frantic whisper. “Val, are you seriously leaving?” I nodded. “Yeah.” “Because of Paige? Come on, is it really worth throwing it all away?” “It’s worth my self-respect,” I said. “But the bonus? We’re talking about real money, Valerie.” I placed the last book into the box and straightened up, feeling the pop in my lower back. “Consider it the price of buying my freedom.” Kevin opened his mouth to argue, but I offered him a soft smile. “Keep in touch, okay?” He let out a defeated sigh and rolled back to his monitors. I picked up the box. It was shockingly light. Three years of my life, reduced to a few pounds of cardboard. I took one last look around the space that had been my second home. I felt absolutely nothing. No nostalgia, no regret. Just an echoing emptiness. I turned toward the exit. Just as I was passing Paige’s row, she strutted back into the department. She saw me holding the box and stopped dead. A theatrical look of shock washed over her face. “Oh my god, Valerie. What are you doing?” “Are you quitting?” Her voice was pitched perfectly—loud enough to guarantee an audience. I stopped. I looked at her. “I am.” She covered her mouth with her hand, though her eyes were dancing with undisguised glee. “Why would you do something so rash? It’s just a title, sweetie. There will be other projects.” She stepped closer, radiating fake sympathy. “Look at you, getting so worked up over nothing. Richard even mentioned he was going to take the whole team out for drinks to celebrate next week. It’s such a shame you’ll miss it.” I watched her pathetic, transparent performance. It was almost comical. “It is a shame,” I agreed smoothly. “It’s a real shame I won’t have a front-row seat to watch you run this project straight into the ground.” Her jaw tightened. I didn’t give her a chance to respond. I adjusted my grip on the box and walked away. Behind me, the silence was absolute. The final steps of the offboarding were a breeze. Payroll cut my final check. IT disabled my badge. I signed a stack of legalese without batting an eye. As I pushed through the heavy glass doors of the building, my phone chimed in my pocket. A bank notification. My final direct deposit had cleared. It was painfully light, stripped of all Q4 performance incentives. I slipped the phone back into my pocket and looked up. The late afternoon sky was the color of bruised iron. The winter wind bit at my cheeks, but deep in my chest, a knot I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying finally dissolved. I felt like I had just pulled a rotting tooth. It throbbed, but the underlying infection was gone. I started walking toward the subway. But as I reached the edge of the corporate plaza, two figures stepped into my path. Victoria Caldwell. She was linking arms with a woman I knew entirely too well. Paige. They had just stepped out of a sleek black Porsche SUV. Victoria was draped in a flawless camel-hair coat, her blowout immaculate, her posture dripping with old money. She saw me. And then she saw the box in my arms. A knowing, patronizing smile touched her lips. She stopped, physically blocking the sidewalk. 03 “Valerie, sweetheart.” Victoria’s voice was a purr of manufactured warmth. It was the tone of a woman used to treating the world like her personal staff. “Where are you off to with all that?” I stood my ground, the box pressed against my chest. “Victoria.” I offered the bare minimum of a greeting. Beside her, Paige looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary. She looked at me the way one might look at an eviction. Victoria’s gaze drifted down to the cardboard box, lingering for two deliberate seconds. Then, she reached out and lightly patted my arm. The gesture was as gentle as it was degrading—a mother soothing a toddler throwing a tantrum in a grocery store. “I know your feelings are hurt,” she cooed. “You’re young. It’s normal to have these emotional reactions. But you can’t just throw a tantrum and act on impulse.” She glanced sideways at Paige before turning her focus back to me, adopting an insufferably guiding tone. “This new structure was my idea. Don’t be upset with Paige.” Paige instantly transformed her face into a mask of wounded innocence. “Vicky, it’s my fault. If I hadn’t—” “Stop it, it’s not your fault,” Victoria interrupted smoothly. She turned back to me, clearly ready to bestow her wisdom. “Valerie, you need to be a team player. We kept you on as the assistant lead so you could help Paige transition. She’s stepping into a big role, and she needs someone with your… tactical experience to hold her hand for a bit.” “On paper, she’s the executive lead. But the day-to-day work? That’s still your domain. Do you understand what I’m offering you?” She smiled at me, her eyes brimming with the absolute certainty that she was granting me an incredible favor. She wanted me to remain a glorified assistant. To do all the heavy lifting, write all the code, put out all the fires. Paige would take the glory, the bonuses, and the title. And I was supposed to be grateful for the privilege. I looked at her perfectly preserved, Botox-smooth face, and a sudden, quiet realization washed over me. To people like her, the dignity and sweat of ordinary people were just collateral. They didn’t even view this as malicious. To them, exploiting me was simply the natural order of the universe. My grip on the cardboard box tightened. Then, I spoke. My voice was startlingly clear in the cold air. “I’m sorry, Victoria.” “But I’m afraid I’m no longer eligible for this ‘opportunity’ you’re offering.” The smile on Victoria’s face glitched. Her perfectly arched brows drew together in genuine confusion. “What do you mean, no longer eligible?” I looked her dead in the eye, enunciating every syllable. “Twenty minutes ago, I finalized my exit paperwork.” “As of right now, I am no longer an employee of your husband’s company. So, that assistant position you’re so generously offering? You’re going to have to find someone else to fill it.” The air between us froze solid. The smug satisfaction drained out of Victoria’s face inch by inch. Her elegant features twisted into something sharp and uncomprehending. She had likely plotted a dozen ways this conversation would go—I would cry, I would demand an apology, I would swallow my pride and submit. She had never, in a million years, calculated that I would simply walk away from the table. Her carefully written script had just been incinerated in front of her. The carrot she was trying to dangle over my head hadn’t just been rejected; I had flipped the entire cart over. Beside her, Paige’s triumphant smirk morphed into raw panic. Her hand shot out, grabbing Victoria’s cashmere sleeve. “Vicky, she can’t—” I didn’t stick around to watch the fallout. Clutching my box, I stepped around them and kept walking. No one called out after me. I didn’t look back. I stepped into the biting chill of the winter afternoon, and for the first time in three years, I could finally breathe. 04 Once I passed through the subway turnstiles, the revolving doors of the corporate plaza felt a million miles away. They separated two entirely different universes. Behind me was their mess. Ahead of me was a blank slate. I could only imagine Victoria’s expression right now—the stiff, patrician mask shattering into apoplectic rage. I had shredded her illusion of control with a single sentence. She thought I was soft clay, easy to mold. She thought my ambition and self-respect were acceptable sacrifices on the altar of her best friend’s ego. She was wrong. I wasn’t the sacrifice. I was the one who kicked over the altar. And Paige? Paige was undoubtedly terrified. Her entire career strategy relied on Victoria’s nepotism. Now, Victoria had been publicly humiliated in front of her, and Paige was left holding the keys to a highly complex, multi-million dollar tech infrastructure that she didn’t possess the vocabulary to understand. A ticking time bomb. And the only person who knew how to defuse it was currently standing on the downtown local train. I leaned back against the cool metal of the subway car, clutching my box as the city blurred past the windows. My heart was beating in a slow, steady rhythm. Quitting wasn’t a snap decision born out of a momentary temper tantrum. It was the inevitable explosion after a thousand tiny cuts. The firm was rotten down to the studs. It was an ecosystem that rewarded sycophants and punished the people actually keeping the lights on. I used to subscribe to the naive belief that if I just put my head down and proved my undeniable value, I would eventually break through. Project Orion was the wake-up call. It was the brutal, undeniable proof that in their world, three months of blood and sweat would always be trumped by the VIP card of “I know the CEO’s wife.” So, I had no regrets. The Q4 bonus was substantial, yes. But I considered it the tuition fee for the harshest masterclass I’d ever taken. I bought a lesson. And I bought my way out. I unlocked the door to my apartment. It was small, but the afternoon light made the hardwood floors glow. I set the box down and began the quiet ritual of unpacking. The cat mug went straight into the dishwasher. The succulent found a new home on the windowsill next to my ferns. The technical manuals slid neatly onto the bookshelf. The fleece blanket went into the washing machine. Within ten minutes, three years of my professional life were absorbed into the quiet safety of my home, as if I had never left. I opened the refrigerator. It was depressing. Half a carton of oat milk and three bottles of sparkling water. For the last ninety days, I hadn’t cooked a single meal. I survived on lukewarm takeout eaten over my keyboard, or vending machine protein bars at 2:00 AM. When was the last time I actually nourished myself? I changed into sweatpants, grabbed my keys, and walked down to the neighborhood market. I bought fresh kale, carrots, a beautiful cut of beef short ribs, and a crusty baguette. Back in my kitchen, I tied an apron around my waist. I took my time mincing the garlic, the rhythmic thwack of the chef’s knife against the cutting board grounding me in the present moment. Soon, the heavy cast-iron Dutch oven was bubbling on the stove. The rich, savory aroma of braising meat and wine filled the tiny apartment, seeping into the corners and chasing away the sterile corporate ghost that had haunted me for months. This. This was what a life was supposed to smell like. From the living room, my phone chimed. A text message. I wiped my hands on a towel and picked it up. It was Kevin. “Val, you are not gonna believe this.” “Right after you left, Victoria Caldwell marched into our department. Looking like she wanted to murder someone.” “She dragged David out of his office and reamed him out in front of the whole floor. Just absolutely brutalized him.” “Then she called an emergency all-hands for the Orion team and told Paige to take the floor and give a status update.” “And guess what?” Kevin sent a string of crying-laughing emojis. “Paige didn’t even know which shared drive the latest architecture schematics were saved on! She literally froze in front of everyone.” “Victoria looked like she was going to have an aneurysm. Now the whole team is mandated to work mandatory overtime tonight to ‘familiarize’ ourselves with the project.” “It is a complete dumpster fire over here.” I read Kevin’s play-by-play, a slow smile spreading across my face. It was playing out exactly as I knew it would. I typed back: “Noted. Hang in there.” Then, I tossed my phone onto the sofa. I was done looking at the wreckage in my rearview mirror. I ladled a generous bowl of the beef stew and sat down at my small dining table. I ate slowly. The broth was piping hot and incredibly rich. I could feel the warmth spreading through my chest, down to my fingertips. After dinner, I washed the dishes, brewed a cup of chamomile tea, and stepped out onto my tiny balcony. The city glittered below me, a sea of taillights and neon. In the distance, the monolithic glass towers of the financial district were ablaze with light. Just yesterday, I was one of those microscopic silhouettes trapped in a glowing box, grinding my gears down to nothing for someone else’s empire. Tonight, I was free. Tomorrow, I wouldn’t have to set an alarm. I didn’t have to navigate a toxic minefield. I could sleep until the sun woke me. I could go to a matinee movie. I could sit in a bookstore for five hours. It felt intoxicating. My phone vibrated against the metal table. An incoming call from an unknown number. I hesitated, but ultimately swiped to answer. “Hello?” “Valerie! It’s Paige!” Her voice was shrill, laced with panic and a heavy dose of entitlement. I sighed. “What do you want, Paige?” “Why is the master project directory encrypted? What is the password? Tell me right now!” She was barking orders as if I still reported to her. I let out a soft, amused breath. “Paige.” “First of all, I don’t work for you, so you can drop the tone. Second, per standard corporate offboarding protocol, the decryption key is automatically generated and emailed to the designated handover contact once HR processes the final exit ticket in the system.” “If you don’t have it, I suggest you take it up with David in HR, or check your spam folder.” “Maybe the system recognized where the email belonged.” Before she could scream a reply, I pulled the phone away from my ear and hung up. A few taps later, her number was permanently blocked. Silence rushed back in. Blissful, beautiful silence.

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Because of an accidental fire, my husband Ethan’s stepsister Lily suffered severe burns all over her body. But he was convinced that I, out of jealousy, had deliberately locked the storage room door. In his rage, he imprisoned me in the basement of the villa. Every day, he had a black-market doctor inject me with corrosive serum. “Only when I watch your skin rot away layer by layer will you understand even one ten-thousandth of Lily’s pain.” He coldly sentenced me to death. He didn’t know that when the fire broke out, I had desperately crashed through the door and used my own back to shield Lily from the falling beam. He knew even less that the miniature camera I had hidden in the ventilation duct was flashing its cold red light. And my older brother, the mafia boss, had received my distress signal. “Clara, after this injection today, your right hand will rot away completely.” Ethan looked down at me from above. In his hand was a syringe filled with an eerie blue liquid. I lay on the basement’s cold cement floor like a dying fish. Not a single inch of my body was uninjured. “Ethan, that’s enough.” The sound of wheelchair wheels rolling echoed. Lily was pushed in by a bodyguard. Her face was wrapped in thick gauze, leaving only a pair of reddened eyes visible. “Clara definitely didn’t lock me in the fire on purpose.” “She just loves you too much and lost her head for a moment.” “I’m already disfigured. Please don’t let Clara suffer anymore.” Lily’s voice choked with emotion. Tears dripped down steadily. Ethan’s gaze instantly became incredibly gentle. He strode quickly to the wheelchair. Tenderly wiping away Lily’s tears. “Lily, you’re just too kind.” “This vicious woman nearly burned you alive!” “She’s not only jealous of you but completely without morals. I must make her pay!” With that, Ethan whirled around. The look he gave me was like looking at a disgusting piece of trash. “Hold her down!” Two burly bodyguards immediately stepped forward. They pinned my shoulders down on both sides. I struggled desperately. Only hoarse, ugly sounds came from my throat. “Ethan… I didn’t…” “I didn’t… start the fire…” My vocal cords had been severely burned by thick smoke in the fire. Every word felt like swallowing razor blades. “Shut up!” Ethan kicked me viciously in the stomach. Searing pain instantly tore through my internal organs. I curled up like a shrimp. Cold sweat soaked through my tattered clothes. “Clara, you disgust me.” “Even now, you still dare to argue?” “The surveillance footage from the fire scene showed everything clearly. Besides you, no one else went near that storage room!” “If you hadn’t locked the door, how could Lily have been unable to escape?” I gasped in agony. Staring at him intently. The surveillance had been tampered with. But I knew that no matter what I said now, he wouldn’t believe me. “Ethan, stop hitting her. Clara will die.” Lily cried out in alarm. Covering her mouth with both hands. But the flash of satisfaction in her eyes didn’t escape my notice. Ethan took a deep breath. Suppressing his rage. “Lily, don’t look. Don’t dirty your eyes.” He turned to look at the black-clothed doctor beside him. “Do it.” The black-market doctor walked over expressionlessly. Roughly rolling up my sleeve. The cold needle pierced my skin. The eerie blue liquid was slowly pushed into my vein. The sensation was like a rusty saw. Slowly sawing through my bones bit by bit. “Ahhh!” I finally couldn’t hold back. A piercing scream escaped me. My entire body’s muscles spasmed uncontrollably. Ethan watched coldly. “This is called corrosive serum.” “After injection, you’ll consciously feel your flesh being dissolved bit by bit.” “The suffering Lily endured in that fire — I’ll make you pay it back a thousand times over.” The pain made even breathing stop. My fingers clawed desperately at the cement floor. My nails bent back and broke. Blood everywhere. Why? Ethan, why won’t you even investigate? Three years as husband and wife. In your eyes, it’s not even worth one of Lily’s tears. “Ethan, I’m a little scared.” Lily shrank into Ethan’s embrace. Ethan immediately pushed the wheelchair. “Let’s go upstairs. The air down here is too filthy.” At the doorway, he stopped. Without even turning his head. “Clara, enjoy yourself.” “This is only the first injection. Tomorrow I’ll try a new drug.” The iron door slammed shut with a bang. The basement plunged back into deathly darkness. I lay in a pool of blood. Gasping violently. My right hand had completely lost all feeling. Only excruciating pain raced madly through my nerves. I struggled to turn my eyes. Looking toward the ventilation duct high in the corner. There, an extremely faint red light flickered. That was my trump card. I bit through my lip. Swallowing the mouthful of blood. “Ethan, I’m waiting for the day you kneel and beg me.”

Early the next morning. The iron door was pushed open again. Blinding light flooded into the basement. I instinctively closed my eyes. Ethan strode in. Holding a leash in his hand. At the other end of the leash was my golden retriever, Pudding. Seeing me, Pudding immediately wagged his tail excitedly. He whimpered, trying to run toward me. But Ethan yanked the leash hard. “Pudding…” I called out hoarsely. Tears instantly welled up. This was the dog I’d raised for five years. My only comfort in this cold villa. “Ethan, this dog is so vicious. It barked at me yesterday.” Lily followed behind. Timidly hiding behind Ethan. “Does it resent me for taking Clara’s place?” Ethan sneered. “A beast is just a beast, taking after its owner’s vicious nature.” He yanked the leash violently. Pudding was choked and let out a pitiful yelp. Falling heavily to the ground. “Ethan! What are you doing!” I found strength from somewhere. Struggling to get up from the floor. Trying to lunge forward to protect Pudding. “Bang!” Ethan lifted his leg. Kicking me back down with one foot. My head hit the cement floor hard. My vision went black. “Clara, you still have the energy to care about a dog?” Ethan looked down at me from above. His eyes cruel to the extreme. “Lily gets scared now whenever she sees fire or furry animals.” “This is all your doing.” “Since you love this dog so much, I’ll let you watch how it atones for your sins.” He turned to look at the bodyguard behind him. His tone cold and emotionless. “Break this beast’s legs.” “Then throw it into the septic tank in the backyard.” My eyes widened in shock. Looking at him in disbelief. “No! Ethan, you’re insane!” “Pudding is innocent! He didn’t do anything!” I crawled forward desperately. Clutching Ethan’s leather shoes with both hands. “Please… don’t hurt him…” “Beat me, yell at me if you want…” “Let Pudding go… please…” I cried my heart out. My forehead banging against the floor. Blood streaming down my cheeks. Blurring my vision. Ethan kicked me away in disgust. “When you set that fire to burn Lily, why didn’t you think about how she was innocent too?” “Do it!” The bodyguard raised the iron rod in his hand. Without hesitation, he smashed it down on Pudding’s hind leg. “Crack!” The sound of breaking bones echoed clearly in the basement. Pudding let out an extremely shrill scream. He rolled on the ground in agony. But his eyes remained fixed on me. As if begging me for help. “Pudding!” I screamed in despair. My heart felt like it was being crushed by a giant hand. The bodyguard dragged Pudding by his hind leg. Dragging him out of the basement like garbage. A long trail of blood remained on the floor. Lily covered her eyes in fear. “Ethan, this is too cruel…” Ethan pulled her gently into his arms. “Don’t be afraid. Evil people deserve evil retribution.” He turned his head, looking at me coldly. “Clara, does it hurt?” “Can’t take it already?” “Let me tell you, this is far from enough.” He pulled a small transparent vial from his pocket. Tossing it in front of me. “This is today’s medicine.” “Drink it yourself.” “Otherwise, I’ll have someone skin that dog and make it into a carpet for your cell.” I stared at the vial on the ground. Trembling like a leaf. Ethan, you’re not human. You’re a complete demon. I extended my still-functioning left hand, trembling. Picking up the vial from the ground. Pulling out the stopper. Tilting my head back, I drank the bitter liquid in one gulp. Ethan smiled with satisfaction. “So obedient.” “Lily, let’s go.” The iron door closed again. I lay on the ground. My stomach felt like I’d swallowed a burning coal. The intense cramping left me without even the strength to scream. Pudding’s blood trail was right before my eyes. I reached out, gently touching that trail of blood. Tears fell heavily onto the ground. “Pudding, I’m sorry.” “Mommy will definitely avenge you.”

Day three. Ethan didn’t bring a doctor. He held a document in his hand. Throwing it directly at my face. The paper’s edge cut my cheek. Fine beads of blood seeped out. “Sign it.” Ethan’s voice was ice cold. I struggled to open my eyes. Making out the large characters on the document. Divorce Agreement. “You want me… to leave with nothing?” I looked at the terms listed. Not only would I get no money. I also had to transfer the property I’d purchased before marriage to Lily as mental compensation. “You still have the nerve to ask for money?” Ethan acted as if he’d heard the biggest joke. “You harmed Lily like this, and I’m being merciful by not demanding your life!” “Sign it and get out of the house.” “Then go to the police station and turn yourself in.” I gripped the agreement tightly. My knuckles white from the pressure. “I won’t sign.” I raised my head, looking directly into his eyes. “I didn’t start the fire.” “I’m not guilty. Why should I turn myself in?” “Slap!” Ethan backhanded me with a resounding slap. Sending me flying. The corner of my mouth split instantly. I spat out a mouthful of blood mixed with a tooth. “Clara, you really won’t cry until you see your coffin.” Ethan pulled out his phone. Opening a video. On the screen was my grandmother, whom I depended on. She lay in a hospital bed. Wearing an oxygen mask. Her face deathly pale. “What did you do?!” I lunged forward like a madwoman. Trying to snatch the phone. Ethan stepped on the back of my hand. Grinding down hard. “I didn’t do anything.” “I just sent someone to the hospital to show the old lady this surveillance video.” “And told her that her precious granddaughter is a murderer with a heart like a snake.” “The old lady got so worked up, her heart condition flared up.” Ethan’s smile was incredibly cruel. “The doctor said if we can’t raise the five hundred thousand for surgery by tonight.” “We can start preparing for her funeral.” I was struck as if by lightning. Frozen in place. All the blood in my body seemed to flow backward in that moment. “Ethan… you’re an animal!” I roared hysterically. Tears bursting forth like a dam breaking. “Grandma is innocent! You know she has a heart condition!” “How could you do this to her!” Ethan remained unmoved. “That depends on you.” He kicked the pen on the floor with his toe. “Sign it and admit everything was your doing.” “I’ll have someone transfer the surgery fee immediately.” “Otherwise, just wait to collect that old hag’s corpse.” My whole body trembled. Looking at Ethan’s familiar face. It felt unbearably strange and terrifying. Three years. I cooked and kept house for him. I concealed my identity for him, restrained my brilliance. And this is what I got — him threatening me with my loved one’s life. “Fine…” “I’ll sign.” I picked up the pen with shaking hands. Signing my name on the agreement. Each stroke felt like carving out my heart. Ethan collected the agreement with satisfaction. “That’s better from the start.” He turned to leave. At the doorway, he suddenly stopped. “Oh, I forgot to tell you.” “Even though you signed, I never intended to give the money.” “That old hag died half an hour ago.” What?! I jerked my head up. My mind went completely blank. Only a sharp ringing remained in my ears. “You… what did you say?” Ethan didn’t even bother looking at me. “I said your grandmother is dead.” “Your murderer granddaughter scared her to death.” The iron door slammed shut heavily. I sat on the ground in a daze. Unable even to cry. Grandma was dead. My only family in this world was dead. A tearing pain came from my chest. I suddenly spat out a large mouthful of blood. My vision plunged completely into darkness. “Ethan, I’ll make you pay in blood.”

I don’t know how long passed. I was awakened by a splash of ice-cold water. The bone-chilling cold made me shiver violently. The basement lights were on. Lily stood before me. She wasn’t in a wheelchair. She stood steadily. Most of the gauze on her face had been removed. The exposed skin was somewhat red and swollen, but definitely not disfigured. “Your… your legs…” I spoke hoarsely. Lily laughed triumphantly. She even twirled in place. “How’s that? Clara, did I play the part well?” She crouched down. Grabbing my hair in one fist. Forcing me to lift my head. “Actually, I wasn’t badly burned at all.” “I set the storage room fire myself.” She leaned close to my ear. Her voice soft as a snake’s hiss. “Only this way would Ethan completely detest you.” “Only then would he sweep you out like garbage.” I stared at her intently. The rage in my chest nearly burning me alive. “You’re insane…” “To frame me, you’d even gamble with your own life?” Lily laughed mockingly. “So what?” “I’m the one who won in the end anyway.” She stood up. Pulling a syringe from her pocket. The liquid inside was a murky black. “Ethan went to handle your grandmother’s funeral arrangements.” “He gave me the key to this place.” “Clara, your existence is too much of an eyesore.” “This injection will kill you through heart failure.” “The medical examiner will only conclude you couldn’t bear your guilty conscience and committed suicide.” She held the syringe, approaching me step by step. “Don’t be afraid. It’ll be over quickly.” I retreated desperately. But behind me was only the cold wall. Nowhere to go. “Lily, aren’t you afraid of retribution!” I shouted angrily. Lily laughed loudly. “Retribution?” “In this house, Ethan is God!” “He believes me, so I’m innocent!” “You’re just an orphan with no power or influence. When you die, who will stand up for you?” She pressed down on my arm. The needle stabbed viciously into my vein. The cold liquid was pushed in instantly. I closed my eyes in despair. Was I really going to die here? At this critical moment. “BOOM!” An earth-shattering explosion. The basement’s sturdy iron door. Along with half the wall. Was blown wide open! Through the rolling smoke. A team of fully armed black-clad bodyguards flooded in like a tide. Instantly pinning Lily to the ground. “Let me go! Who are you!” Lily screamed in terror. The sound of leather shoes on rubble echoed. A tall, upright figure emerged from the smoke. The man’s face was cold and stern, his eyes carrying a towering killing intent. He strode to me. Seeing my blood-covered, barely alive state. His eyes instantly reddened. He knelt on one knee. Taking off his custom-tailored coat, carefully wrapping my broken body. His voice trembling uncontrollably. “Clara, I’m sorry…” “I’m late.” I looked at this familiar face before me. He was my older brother who once doted on me most, mafia boss. Finally, tears flowed freely. “You finally came.” “I want them dead.”

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My childhood sweetheart had his heart broken by me. Seven years after he left to study abroad, he finally came back with his new girlfriend to meet the parents. And I had finally been told by the hospital that after seven years of fighting cancer, I had failed. I could go home and wait for death. Seeing me being helped by my mom as I sat in a wheelchair, my childhood sweetheart’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “Seven years, and look how pathetic you’ve become. You can’t even walk anymore.” Hearing his voice filled with disgust, I simply pulled down my sleeve calmly, covering the countless needle marks that dotted the back of my hand. “It’s nothing. I just fell while walking. Just a broken bone.” My childhood sweetheart sneered again. “Well then, since that’s the case — I’m getting married soon. How about you be my fiancée’s bridesmaid?” I remained calm, only smiling faintly. “I can’t. I’m about to go somewhere very far away.” After saying that, I patted the back of my mom’s hand, signaling her to quickly wheel me back home.

As soon as we got home and Mom had helped me lie down in bed, Ethan’s mother came looking for me. The moment she entered, she looked at me hesitantly, as if wanting to say something but stopping herself. “Jenny, I… I have a request.” Looking at her flushed face, even though she hadn’t said the rest, I already knew her purpose was probably the same as seven years ago. After all, seven years ago, the moment she learned I had cancer, she had done exactly this — bursting into my hospital room urgently, with a hint of guilt. Before I could even accept that I had cancer, while I was still crying hysterically from fear, she had knelt before me. “Jenny, I’m begging you, don’t drag Ethan down. He just got accepted to a school abroad. If he finds out you have cancer, he definitely won’t want to go study overseas.” “You and Ethan grew up together and have been dating for so many years. I’m begging you — please don’t hold Ethan back. Break up with him, okay?” “I’ve already thought of a solution for you. I’ve arranged for you to meet a guy. You just need to pretend to kiss that guy downstairs, pretend Ethan catches you, then pretend to break up with him.” Because of her words, when I was first diagnosed with cancer, my first priority wasn’t going to the hospital for examination and treatment. Instead, I coldly pretended to cheat, coldly forced Ethan to break up with me, and ruthlessly drove Ethan out of the country. Sure enough, in just a moment, Ethan’s mother said to me guiltily: “Jenny, don’t blame me. I have no choice. Ethan’s current girlfriend was his classmate during his graduate and doctoral studies abroad. They match in every way. I really… really don’t want to ruin such a good marriage.” “You know Ethan has cared about you since childhood. If… if he finds out the truth from back then, I’m afraid… I’m afraid…” “So can you please not meet with Ethan for a while? You… you’re about to die anyway, right? It’s not suitable for you to go out. Don’t you think?” Hearing Ethan’s mother mention “die,” my mom angrily threw my adult diaper onto the bed. Seeing that she was about to explode, I quickly acted cute and shook my mom’s arm, then looked calmly at Ethan’s mother. “I can agree not to tell Ethan about what happened seven years ago, but I can’t promise not to see him.” Yes, I couldn’t promise not to see Ethan. After all, during these seven years of fighting cancer, there wasn’t a moment when I didn’t think about Ethan. When I couldn’t endure chemotherapy anymore, it was because I clutched the photos Ethan and I had taken together that I could continue holding on. I went through dozens of surgeries, large and small. Several times I was sent to the emergency room and couldn’t wake up. It was my mom standing by my bed, shouting at me hoarsely: “Jenny, have you forgotten? You said you wanted to live, to go abroad and personally clear up the misunderstanding with Ethan.” “You said that once you recovered, you’d have me take you abroad to bring Ethan back. If you die, you’ll never see Ethan again.” It was because of my mom’s shouts, one after another mentioning Ethan, that pulled me back from death’s door time and time again. But in the end, I still failed to beat cancer. And Ethan had his new life, his new girlfriend, and was about to get married. But in my final days, being able to spend a simple bit of time with Ethan would be good too. That’s why, after learning Ethan had returned to the country, even when the doctor said that leaving the hospital meant death, I still chose to force myself to check out.

But I didn’t expect that right after sending Ethan’s mother away, when I woke up from an exhausted sleep, I would hear Ethan’s voice outside. Hearing his voice, I was somewhat surprised. You have to understand, seven years ago, Ethan hated me to the core. He had once stood outside my house for three days and three nights, just to grab my neck and demand to know why I betrayed him. After I cried and said I didn’t love him, he punched through the glass in the hallway. That day, although he didn’t lay a hand on me, he was thoroughly disgusted by me. When we ran into each other in the hallway, he would turn around and go back the way he came. Even passing by my front door, he would furrow his brows in disgust. He even stopped going to the convenience store we used to frequent together. He was so disgusted that whenever he heard my name, he would scold whoever mentioned it with a cold face. “Why bring up Jenny? If you don’t find it disgusting, I do.” Even the day he left for the airport to go abroad, I braved heavy rain wanting to see him one last time. When he saw me appear, he only disgustedly smashed the couple’s ring we had bought together and the phone filled with all our photos together at my feet with a mocking laugh, then left without looking at me once. But I didn’t expect that seven years later, he would voluntarily come to my home. However, in just a moment, through the open door crack, I understood the whole situation. Ethan was tightly holding his fiancée’s hand. “Are you bothered by what happened seven years ago? Is that why you won’t let Jenny take us to choose a wedding planning company and pick out rings?” “I stopped liking Jenny a long time ago, and I’ve already let it go. We grew up together after all — if we can’t be lovers, we can still be friends.” As soon as Ethan finished speaking, the girl standing beside him also chimed in: “Mrs. Hayes, Ethan already told me about him and Jenny. Seven years ago, Jenny was the one who cheated, but they were young back then. It takes two to tango — our Ethan must have had problems too.” “Besides, I should be thanking Jenny. If she hadn’t given up on Ethan, I wouldn’t have met such a good man.” “So Mrs. Hayes, there’s really no need to still hold onto what happened seven years ago. And it was my idea to have Jenny help us choose the wedding planning company. After all, Ethan and I haven’t been back to the country for seven years and really aren’t familiar with things here. Having older people make decisions — their aesthetic is honestly a bit hard for me to handle.” Seven years ago, when I was first diagnosed with cancer, my greatest wish was for Ethan to be able to forget me, to let me go. But now, hearing Ethan mention seven years ago so calmly, mention me so calmly, and even tell his current girlfriend about me without any concealment — my heart still ached densely. And my mom, hearing Sophia’s repeated mentions of cheating and her passive-aggressive words, instantly turned red with anger. Her lips trembled several times before she finally shouted at Ethan: “You and your mother are both the same — shameless.” Hearing my mom’s words, my heart tightened sharply. I propped myself up to sit up and called toward the door: “Mom, come into the room and help me into the wheelchair. I’ll talk to Ethan myself.”

My mom came into the room. Seeing me sit up, her expression was still very unpleasant. But I directly hugged her. “Mom, please help me fulfill this regret before I die, okay?” Mom’s eyes immediately reddened, but as someone who always doted on me, she still went to the vanity to get lipstick and a wig for me, and helped me put on a down jacket. As soon as she wheeled me out the door, Ethan furrowed his brows. “What’s wrong with you? You were delicate as a child, and now as an adult, you’re still so delicate. You just have a lame leg, and your mom is so old, yet you still need her to take care of you personally.” Looking at his disgusted expression, I only smiled calmly. “The doctor said my fracture is quite serious and told me not to get out of bed for a while.” As soon as I finished speaking, Sophia, standing beside Ethan, said to me: “Jenny, don’t take it personally with Ethan. He’s just gotten used to being abroad.” “Except for me, he has this sour face with everyone.” My heart felt sour again. Ethan indeed had a sour face with everyone, but before, with me… I quickly suppressed the strange feeling in my heart, then looked calmly at Sophia. “Do you really want me to go with you to choose a wedding planning company?” “If you really need me, I’ll go with you.” Sophia immediately nodded. “Of course, of course.” After that, I exchanged a few more pleasantries with them before sending them out. That evening, Ethan called me. He said to have me accompany him to the wedding planning company tomorrow. My fingers holding the phone were clenched tight. First, because I was greedy for his voice. Second, because I was nervous. After all, it had been seven years since I had heard his voice alone on the phone like this. You know, seven years ago, I would hide under my blanket every night and fall asleep listening to his deep, mellow voice. But just as I was immersed in memories, a female voice rang out: “Ethan, come help me dry my hair…” I suddenly snapped back to reality and quickly hummed in acknowledgment. And the moment Ethan heard my response, he hung up the phone. Listening to the dial tone, tears suddenly spilled out. Although I had prepared myself, seeing and hearing firsthand that Ethan now belonged to another girl still made my heart ache sourly.

Because Ethan had scheduled our meeting for 10 a.m. last night, I was so nervous that I had my mom wheel me downstairs to wait at 9:30. But I waited until noon at 12 o’clock, and Ethan still hadn’t come. Even the calls I made to him, he hung up. Mom called me several times to go back home, but I refused. After all, this outing had cost me too much energy. After this time, I might never be able to go out again. Fortunately, at 1 p.m., I received a call from Ethan saying they were coming downstairs. My mom was very unhappy. I did a lot of emotional work on her before she didn’t show any reaction. As soon as I got in the car, Sophia smiled sweetly at me. “Sorry, Jenny. Last night, Ethan kept me up too late, so I couldn’t get up this morning.” My palms tightened slightly. And Ethan, who had put away my wheelchair and gotten into the driver’s seat, glanced at me through the rearview mirror, then said coldly to Sophia: “Why are you explaining so much to her?” My heart felt a bit sour, but I still calmly waved at my mom outside the car window. Ethan drove very fast, even shaking me so much that I wanted to vomit. But I still silently endured it. This also reminded me of seven years ago. Back then, after Ethan got his driver’s license, he would always drive his dad’s car to take me out. Because he knew I got carsick, he always drove smoothly and steadily. Before, I would always get carsick on taxis and buses, but I never once got carsick in Ethan’s car. So when Ethan hit the brakes hard again and I couldn’t support my body, slamming heavily into the back seat, with my stomach churning and about to vomit, I finally couldn’t help whimpering. Hearing my sound, Ethan sneered again. “Jenny, you don’t think I’ll still accommodate you like seven years ago, do you? Trying not to change speed or brake?” I silently wiped away the tears at the corners of my eyes, then said calmly: “No. You should accommodate Sophia now. She’s your girlfriend.” Ethan sneered and laughed again. “You’re right.” After that, he pressed the accelerator hard again. And my body slammed heavily into the back seat again. My back hurt terribly. But a smile appeared at the corners of my mouth. It’s good that he hates me. At least while I’m alive, in Ethan’s heart, I still have at least a tiny bit of space.

After that, I didn’t feel uncomfortable for long before we arrived at our destination. When getting out of the car, it was Ethan who carried me. Being in his arms again, for a moment, I almost couldn’t hold back my tears. But fortunately, after Ethan quickly carried me out of the car, he quickly put me back in the wheelchair. He was even so disgusted by me that after putting me in the wheelchair, he urgently had Sophia hand him two wet wipes and desperately wiped his hands. And Sophia awkwardly explained to me on the side: “Sorry, Jenny. Ethan has a cleanliness obsession. Except for me, if any other woman touches him, he feels disgusted.” Watching Ethan’s movements, I lowered my head and pressed my lips together, pretending not to see his actions or hear Sophia’s words. After that, I let Ethan and Sophia hold hands and push me into a Spanish restaurant. As soon as we sat down at the table, Ethan proactively picked up the menu and ordered several spicy dishes. Hearing the dish names he called out, my heart felt sour. In the past, I never ate spicy food, and Ethan didn’t eat spicy food either. Who he was ordering for was self-evident. And I didn’t make things difficult for myself. Right now, even eating was difficult for me, let alone eating such strongly flavored food. So I had the waiter add a light vegetable soup for me. But for some reason, Ethan suddenly lost his temper. “Skinny as a ghost, and you’re still trying to diet.” My heart felt densely sour from Ethan’s sudden concern, but in just a moment, I smiled and said: “Blake likes me thinner.” Blake was the guy Ethan’s mother had made up as my affair partner back then. Since Ethan had been angered into going abroad by me, I had never seen him again. And after hearing my words, Ethan’s face instantly turned ashen. And Sophia, sitting beside Ethan, immediately smiled at me: “Jenny, don’t misunderstand. Ethan is a doctor now, so whenever he sees someone dieting, he gets angry. When I was abroad before and insisted on dieting, Ethan scolded me many times too.” Speaking, Sophia smiled and looked at Ethan. “Ethan, am I right?” But Ethan didn’t look at Sophia. He only angrily stood up and pushed back his chair. “I’m going to the restroom.” After that, without another glance at me or Sophia, Ethan turned and walked toward the restroom. And watching his retreating figure, my heart felt sourly painful again. So had I messed up again? Messed up Ethan’s new life, messed up Ethan’s new love. Guilt rose in my heart. And Sophia, sitting across the table from me, directly picked up a cup of hot water and suddenly “splashed” it onto my face. “You fake bitch, do you think I’m stupid? You keep playing pitiful to seduce my fiancé.” The hot water Sophia splashed burned my face painfully. But I only clenched my palms tightly, then said guiltily: “Sorry, if I made you misunderstand, I apologize.” Sophia only sneered and stood up. Then she walked over and slapped me across the face. “You think that by pretending to be crippled, you’ll make Ethan change his mind?” “Let me tell you, Ethan is mine for life. Don’t think that just because you’re Ethan’s first love, you can steal him away.” The cheek Sophia slapped was painful and numb. I could endure her splashing water on me — after all, I was shamelessly coveting Ethan’s tenderness. But she couldn’t slap me. So without thinking, I pushed her away. “Sophia, if you dare lay a hand on me again, I’ll call the police.” But as soon as I finished speaking, Sophia somehow suddenly fell to the ground. She suddenly started wailing. “Oh my belly! Help! Someone is assaulting a pregnant woman!” I looked at her figure lying on the ground, looking at my own hands in disbelief. You have to know I’d been sick for seven years. Even putting on clothes made me tired. Sometimes I couldn’t even hold a water glass steady. I didn’t have the strength to push Sophia down. When I pushed her, it was only to make her stop hitting me. But who knew Sophia would suddenly lie on the ground. And just as I didn’t know what to do, Ethan suddenly appeared in the lobby. Seeing Sophia lying on the ground, he urgently ran toward her. “Sophia, Sophia, are you okay?” Sophia immediately started crying, crying and desperately clutching Ethan’s collar. “Ethan, save me! Save the baby in my belly! Jenny — Jenny tried to kill me!” “Just now, as soon as you left, she started cursing at me, saying you were trash she didn’t want, and that whenever she wanted you, you’d come crawling back to beg her. I couldn’t help it — I couldn’t help splashing her with water.” “But who knew she’d get even angrier and start cursing me, calling me a vicious fake bitch, saying I was a slut who picked up men she didn’t want.” “I couldn’t help it, so I slapped her. After that, she angrily pushed me away.” “You know I’m pregnant and my health isn’t good. I can’t handle even the slightest collision.” Hearing Sophia’s words, I was completely shocked in place. My lips trembled several times before I could speak. “Ethan, listen to me. It’s not like that.” “I… I really didn’t.” But who knew Ethan would erupt in a huge roar. “Jenny, how can you be so vicious? Seven years ago, you shamelessly had an affair with another man.” “Seven years later, I’m about to get married, and you think I’m good again. You even assaulted my fiancée!” “You dare to hit my woman? Today I’ll let you taste what it’s like to hit my woman.” Speaking, he walked over and angrily kicked my wheelchair several times. He even violently pushed my wheelchair backward hard, pushing it toward the dining table. The wheelchair crashed into the table. The bowls on the table fell to the floor, and the table flipped over. And my wheelchair flipped too. My head slammed heavily into the corner of the table, instantly bulging and bleeding. My head was buzzing, and even my body was trembling and shaking. But Ethan didn’t look at me once. He only urgently picked up Sophia, urgently kissing Sophia’s lips as she cried in pain. “Be good, be good, don’t cry. I’ll take you to the hospital right away.” After that, without another glance at me, he turned and carried Sophia toward the door. And watching Sophia’s provocative smile and Ethan’s retreating figure, I suddenly smiled. Smiled until tears flowed. This reminded me of when I was eighteen, when I was groped on a bus by a man who touched my butt. Back then, Ethan was still a hot-headed youth. Furious, he grabbed that man who was a head taller and much stronger than him, and like an enraged beast, punched the man in the face again and again. “You garbage scum, how dare you touch my woman! I’ll beat you to death!” At that time, all the passengers on the bus were frightened. Only I cried and desperately grabbed Ethan’s arm, begging him, crying and telling him to stop, and only then did Ethan stop. In the past, I was Ethan’s woman, so he would desperately protect me. Now the person in Ethan’s heart had become another girl, so he would desperately protect her, even if the person he was hitting was me. My heart trembled with pain. The surrounding waiters gradually gathered around. After that, the police came. The moment I saw the police appear, my strength suddenly drained. I desperately grabbed the police officer’s hand and said: “Tell my mom not to pursue this. Tell my mom this was all my own choice.” “Tell my mom I’m sorry. I… I can’t accompany her anymore.” My heart felt sour, but somehow I had no regrets. After all, I had fought cancer for seven years, waited for seven years. My greatest dream was just to see Ethan once. I saw him. My dream came true. It was enough.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “390162”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I had been dating Ethan for five years. The day before our wedding, I discovered over ten thousand photos of the same girl saved in his cloud storage. There were photos of her sleeping, smiling… even intimate photos. And thousands of flight tickets to the same foreign city. Without a word, I packed my bags and left on our wedding day. The bride had successfully escaped the wedding, but he lost his mind. I stared at the countless photos and flight ticket screenshots on the screen, my pupils trembling, my heart pounding as if it would burst from my chest. “You’re really getting married? Not waiting for Luna to come back? I thought you’d wait for her forever.” His friend’s slip-up when he heard we were getting married echoed in my ears. That was the first time I learned Ethan’s first love’s name. Too bad I only understood what his friend meant now. The cloud storage was updated every month. Our photos together from five years didn’t add up to a single upload batch. Every time we went on a date and I wanted to take photos to remember it, he always had excuses to refuse. He said we were together every day, there would be plenty of opportunities later, no need to take photos. Only now did I understand — it wasn’t that there was no need, just that I wasn’t necessary to him. Staring at the different timestamps on the photo watermarks, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through our chat history from those corresponding times. I discovered that Ethan had either said he was on a business trip or had to go out of town for training. What disappeared from home along with him was his camera. The increasingly smooth lies in our records made my heart tremble. I abruptly shut down his computer, rushed into the bedroom to pack my bags and leave. But the moment I opened the closet, a familiar feeling washed over me, nearly suffocating me. Every piece of clothing inside had appeared on Luna in those photos. And these clothes were all gifts Ethan had given me. I slammed the cabinet door shut and crouched on the floor, helpless. Tears blurred my vision as I shakily sent a message to my boss. I told him I wanted to apply for the position at the overseas branch. After listening, he was silent for a long time before replying, “Young people being cautious is good. Marriage shouldn’t be impulsive. I’ll submit your information, and you should rest well while waiting for the results.” His tone held satisfaction and reflection, but notably no surprise. It seemed that Ethan and I not making it to the end was already an expected outcome in everyone’s eyes. I hung up the phone and opened the ticket booking app, preparing to buy a flight abroad for the next day, when I heard the sound of the door closing outside. Bracing my hands on my knees, I stood up and walked to the living room. The love I once had in my eyes when looking at him was gone. As usual, he gently kissed my forehead when he got home. But today he had a cake in his hands. “Got off work early today, specially brought this for you. Try it. I have a classmate reunion in a bit, need to head out.” I glanced at the chocolate mousse stuck to the outer box. Mockery flashed in my eyes. “No thanks, I don’t have an appetite, and… I’m allergic to chocolate.” His expression went blank for a moment before he remembered this was something I told him every year. But he never remembered it. Seeing my expression indifferent with no sign of anger, he reached out and gently ruffled my hair. “Sorry, work’s been too busy lately. I’ll buy you a new one after the wedding ends tomorrow.” Before I knew the truth, I believed whatever he explained. But after seeing the photos, I finally understood why he loved chocolate. Because Luna liked it. “Work’s been too busy” was his go-to excuse.

The last update to the cloud storage was three days ago. I looked at his emotionless eyes and slowly nodded, not exposing his lie. I wanted to leave us both with some final dignity. Seeing that I didn’t argue with him like before, he smiled and pulled out a necklace from his pocket, presenting it before my eyes. The diamond-studded moon pendant made my eyes sting. I accepted it expressionlessly and turned to walk into the bedroom. I tossed the necklace into the nightstand drawer. Then I removed the ring engraved with a moon pattern and placed it inside as well. Besides the necklace with the moon pendant, there were bracelets, bangles, earrings… I used to not understand why he liked moon patterns. Now that I knew Luna’s name… I couldn’t help but connect everything. Closing the drawer, his somewhat excited and expectant voice came from the living room: “Wear the jewelry I gave you at the wedding, okay? A whole set with moon patterns, it’ll definitely look beautiful…” “Just stay home obediently, I’m heading out to the reunion now. Last time before the wedding, might come back a bit late, don’t wait up.” I didn’t respond, hiding in the bedroom like a snail. Silently thinking to myself that we would never have a wedding. As the sound of the closing door echoed, I walked out and threw the cake in the trash. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the cabinet nearby. Inside lay all the labels I’d torn off from cake boxes over five years. Like a silent mockery of my one-woman show. What I treasured so much I couldn’t bear to throw away the wrapping was garbage another person could discard without a thought. I opened the cabinet and threw everything inside away. Then I started packing for going abroad. Besides clothes and jewelry, all I could take were simple daily necessities. While rummaging through boxes and cabinets, I discovered quite a few more things. Over these five years, the gifts I’d given Ethan were all randomly stuffed in various corners of the house. Many had even expired, their packaging never opened. No wonder when I asked him about them, he was always evasive, saying he couldn’t bear to use them. Thinking about it now, he probably just left them too carelessly and couldn’t find them. His daily necessities all came from the same foreign source. The country where Luna lived. I threw them into the trash one by one, along with my love for him and my past humble self. The moment I zipped up my suitcase, Ethan’s friend called me. “Sophia, Ethan’s had too much to drink. Can you come pick him up? I’ll send you the address.” Through the receiver, Ethan’s hoarse voice called out “Luna.” With pleading, with devotion, with the joy of regaining something lost. But no trace of drunkenness. My breath hitched, my heart stopped instantly. The other person quickly covered the phone and hung up. I placed the suitcase by the wall, hesitated for two seconds, but still called a cab according to the address Ethan’s friend sent. One last time. Since I’d decided to leave, I didn’t want to leave with regrets. When I reached the private room door, the teasing and laughter inside filtered through the gap to my ears. “How come Luna came back today? Could it be she heard some news about our Ethan? Tonight we definitely won’t let you come for nothing!” Through the glass, I clearly saw an unrestrained and wild expression on Ethan’s face I’d never seen before. His expectant gaze was firmly locked on another woman’s face. And that woman’s face — I had just seen it countless times on his computer.

The diamond-studded necklace around her neck was identical to the one Ethan had just given me. Except hers was brighter, more eye-catching. I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the private room. The commotion inside came to an abrupt halt. Ethan seemed not to have expected me to come, his eyes full of confusion, his brows furrowed. His friend was the first to stand up and introduce me. “This is our college classmate Luna. She went abroad five years ago and just came back today, catching our reunion. What a coincidence, right?” His ambiguous gaze swept back and forth between Ethan and Luna. Calling me here was clearly deliberate. If it were before, I might have lost control on the spot and confronted them. Knowing Ethan had her in his heart, why did they let her appear when we were about to get married? Why didn’t they stop them from meeting? But now I just smiled faintly. When his friend began introducing me and mentioned the words “fiancée,” Ethan coughed non-stop, covering his mouth. Luna beside him handed him tissues with perfect understanding. Naturally reaching out to wipe the corner of his mouth. After a while, his face completely red, he spoke: “Just a friend I’m pretty close with.” My eyelashes trembled slightly as everyone watched like spectators. I nodded along with his words. My palm hurt from my nails digging in. I forced myself not to let tears spill out. He didn’t want to reveal my identity — I was used to it. After all, even our wedding was just a group message. No photos together, no bride’s name. I always made excuses for his behavior, unwilling to gamble one last time with five years of feelings. But time after time, I remained the loser. I forced a smile and greeted Luna. “You’re even prettier in person than in photos. The necklace… is very beautiful too.” After that sentence, the private room fell completely silent. Perhaps afraid I’d make things difficult for her, Ethan quickly grabbed a drink and placed it in front of me. Looking at the black chocolate cocktail on the table, my smile froze on my face. I spoke word by word: “I can’t drink anything with chocolate…” I’d just told him before going out, and he’d forgotten it immediately. Embarrassment flashed in Ethan’s eyes. Just as he was about to change my drink, Luna reached out and took the glass from in front of me. “Give it to me. I’m not picky.” A flash of urgency crossed Ethan’s face: “There’s lemon juice in it. Don’t you dislike that flavor?” In an instant, something seemed to explode in my heart. The fragments pierced my chest, even breathing hurt and trembled. So he didn’t forget — he just didn’t bother wasting time on me. Luna giggled and playfully tapped his nose. “I drink it often abroad. Got used to it. It’s fine.” She placed the glass in front of herself and went to the restroom. Only then did Ethan sit beside me, explaining in a low voice: “I’m sorry, I really forgot just now. I’ll definitely pay attention next time. Everyone’s here, one drink won’t hurt, right? Worst case, I’ll go out and buy you allergy medicine later.” “Don’t overthink it. She’s just a friend I haven’t seen in a long time. She doesn’t know we’re getting married. Explaining would be too complicated so I just—” Before he could finish, I simply nodded. He never knew that for our wedding day, to be in good condition, I’d been off sugar for a long time. As for allergens that would make me break out in hives all over, I stayed far away. The tears accumulated in my eyes spilled out from the momentum. He thought I didn’t know his first love, thought he’d hidden it well. Then I’d go along with his wishes. Pretending to be oblivious was what I was best at anyway. “Yeah, I know. No need to explain.” He visibly relaxed. After the earlier awkwardness, his friend spoke first, trying to ease the atmosphere. He suggested playing a game. When Luna entered the room, the bottle mouth seemed to have GPS, stopping right in front of Ethan.

His friends around him were all jeering, wanting him to show his phone gallery. Their spectating gazes swept back and forth between the three of us. Ethan looked troubled. The person next to him spoke up, sounding rather bored: “Don’t you guys know Ethan’s getting married soon? His gallery must be full of his wife. What’s there to see? Social media would be more exciting!” Another person joked: “Why didn’t you say that earlier? Next round, next round.” Ethan’s face flushed from the teasing. His probing gaze quickly swept across Luna’s face. Then he took out his phone, preparing to unlock it. Perhaps the lighting in the room was too dim — his face recognition failed several times. Just as his phone was about to lock, he could only helplessly input the numeric password under everyone’s gaze. After entering six digits, Luna’s eyes flickered. Teasing laughter came from the side: “That looks a bit familiar. Whose birthday is that? Luna’s?” Ethan cleared his throat lightly. “Don’t know. Got used to using it, forgot to change it.” His friend was impatient and snatched his phone away. The next second, Ethan’s gallery was displayed before everyone. Disappointment flashed across everyone’s faces in unison. No photos of me, no work materials, no gossip they wanted. Only countless moons. Five years. Nineteen hundred photos. Ethan and Luna’s gazes met. The air filled with their unique understanding and romance. His friends and I seemed isolated in a separate space from them. My heart gradually sank to the bottom. I could almost hear my own heavy heartbeat in my ears. Soon, his friend spoke disappointedly: “What’s wrong with you? Why’d you take so many photos of the moon? Want to be a photographer?” “Isn’t this hobby way classier than gaming? I really appreciate it.” Luna’s face lit up with a sweet smile, her eyes so tender they could melt. As if among all these people in the room, only she understood Ethan. The first round passed just like that. But in the second round, Ethan lost again. This time the condition was to choose an opposite-sex person present and kiss them. The one who made this request was still Ethan’s friend who kept trying to set them up. There were only two women in the room — Luna and me. The noisy jeering rose and fell. Ethan gritted his teeth and glared at him for a long while. Finally speaking slowly: “I’m drunk. I’m leaving.” After saying that, he tilted his head back and downed a bottle of alcohol, getting up to leave the room. Seeing no show to watch, his friends also left one after another. The three of us walked outside together to hail cabs. A car suddenly sped past from the side. Ethan’s first instinct was to pull Luna into his arms. I was knocked down by that car and fell to the ground. The spot on my palm where my nails had scratched earlier broke open. Blood instantly seeped from the wound. I bit down hard on my jaw from the pain. Tears of grievance squeezed from the corners of my eyes. On the last night before leaving, I didn’t want to show weakness in front of him. Ethan’s gaze fell on me, his eyes filled with apology. He helped me up, just about to apologize, when I shook my head stubbornly: “I’m fine. Just didn’t stand steady. Don’t worry about me.” “Your classmate just got back. She’s probably not too familiar with things here. You should take her home. I can manage on my own.”

When I said this, I could feel my heart bleeding in pain. Perhaps my understanding attitude made him feel guilty. Ethan rarely took the initiative to hail a cab for me. He even pretended to write down the license plate number. After seeing me off, he got into another car with Luna. Back home, I cleaned the wound on my palm with hydrogen peroxide myself. Looking in the mirror at how my features contorted in pain, the tears I’d been holding back couldn’t be contained anymore and gushed from my eyes. I cried until my whole body trembled and my throat lost its voice, my body collapsing weakly on the floor. In the early morning, when I’d finished washing up and lay in bed, Ethan finally pushed the door open. I closed my eyes pretending to be asleep. I heard him hesitantly speak: “Don’t overthink it. Today was just my classmate coming back for a reunion, nothing else.” As he spoke, he walked to the bed and realized my eyes were tightly shut. Relieved, he tossed his phone on the bed. Turned and went into the bathroom to wash up. The light turned on. I slowly opened my eyes. His phone wasn’t locked. Possessed by some impulse, I picked it up and glanced at it. The screen was still on the interface where he was replying to Luna’s messages. The last sentence was: [Sophia is my friend. My family pressured me into marriage. This time I had her play along with me. Didn’t expect you’d actually believe it and come back specially for this. What, haven’t gotten over me after five years? Want to consider getting back together?] My heart was instantly gripped by an enormous force. Even my breathing trembled. In front of me, Ethan had always been a perfect boyfriend. Gifts for every anniversary. Little cakes on every ordinary day. Every new fashion item that appeared in my closet right after launch. But only I knew he was loving another person through me. What he did during our relationship was just what he considered a boyfriend’s duty. It never had anything to do with me personally. His heart and soul only beat wildly for Luna. Even the wedding I’d anticipated for five years was a scheme to win Luna back. With the facts laid before me, I could no longer deceive myself. I covered my mouth with my hand so I wouldn’t cry out loud. When I put down the phone, I accidentally returned to the home screen. His friend’s chat showed an unread message. [Bro, that’s all I can help you with. When things work out with Luna, don’t forget to treat me to dinner!] I immediately locked the screen. Taking several deep breaths, I opened the email I’d just received on my own phone. It was a success notification from the overseas branch. After reading it, I directly bought a flight abroad for the next morning. After the payment succeeded, Ethan’s phone suddenly rang. He hurriedly walked out of the bathroom. I pretended I’d just woken up. He hung up the call and glanced at a message. Meeting my sleepy eyes, he spoke: “My friend’s light at home broke. I’m going to take a look. You sleep first. I’ll be right back.” Dropping that line, he leaned down and kissed my forehead. Then turned and strode out of the room. The door closing sound echoed. The last teardrop rolled down my cheek. I desperately wiped my forehead with my uninjured hand. Ethan, oh Ethan, you weren’t even willing to put effort into lying to me once. I lay in bed with my eyes open until dawn. I got up and simply washed up, then dragged my luggage to the airport. On the way, Ethan finally deigned to send me a message. [Sorry about last night. By the time we fixed the light it was almost dawn. I was afraid of disturbing your sleep, so I didn’t come back. Luna’s going today too. Save a seat for her. She wants to watch.] I turned off my phone. Only at the last moment before boarding did I reply to him. [I saved a seat, but it’s the bride’s seat.] [Ethan, let’s break up.]

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When my birth mother drugged me and dragged me onto tech mogul Mr. Holt’s yacht, I couldn’t help but laugh at the cabin door: “This boat is still as ugly as ever.” The fake heiress, Vivian Jones, thought I’d lost my mind. She pinched my thigh hard and clipped a micro camera to my chest. “Skyler, Mr. Holt has a violent temper and sadistic tendencies. You better scream loud later.” My birth mother, Martha Jones, coldly tied my hands beside her, her tone impatient. “We raised you all these years. Now it’s time to repay us.” “As long as Mr. Holt ruins you here, your sister will get exclusive rights and become an influencer worth millions.” “Sacrificing you to make your sister successful — you owe her that much!” As the drugs took effect, Martha stripped off my coat and threw me into the dark lower cabin like trash. No one noticed that in the dim light, I couldn’t help but smile. And no one knew that the “violent and unpredictable tech mogul” they spoke of had clung to my legs three years ago, crying and begging me to take him in. Today, they’d personally delivered me right back to his territory.

When I woke up, my head was still foggy. My hands were bound behind me with rough rope that dug painfully into my wrists. The yacht’s engine rumbled low, meaning we’d already left port. Outside the door came Vivian’s voice, barely suppressing her wild excitement. “Martha! Mr. Holt’s people said he’s heading to the lower deck now!” “Once the camera catches footage of Mr. Holt torturing Skyler, my livestream will blow up!” “Then Mr. Holt’s exclusive interview will be mine too, and the Jones family will be saved!” Martha’s voice followed, dripping with disgusting flattery. “Don’t worry, Vivian. I gave her enough drugs — she doesn’t even have the strength to bite her tongue off.” “Once Mr. Holt gets tired of her, we’ll use the video to blackmail her into giving up all her shares.” “This bitch grew up in the countryside. She’s trash in her bones. Serving Mr. Holt is the luckiest thing that could happen to her in several lifetimes.” Trash. Lucky. I leaned against the cold iron wall and smiled coldly. Five years ago, the Jones family brought me back from the countryside. I thought it was family calling me home. Turned out they needed bone marrow for Vivian, who had leukemia. After they drained my marrow, they threw me in the basement to eat leftovers. Meanwhile, Vivian took my design drafts and transformed herself into New York’s darling talent. Now the Jones family’s capital chain had broken. They were about to go bankrupt. They’d heard that the all-powerful tech mogul Mr. Holt was hosting a private party on his yacht tonight. Rumor had it Mr. Holt was violent and cruel, loved torturing disobedient women. So Martha, without hesitation, drugged my water. Packaged me up and sent me here to secure Vivian’s bright future. The drug’s effects were slowly fading. My fingers could already move. I turned my wrist slightly, and the micro blade hidden in my sleeve slid into my palm. Three seconds. The rough rope snapped. I rubbed my reddened wrists and stood up. I could draw this yacht’s lower cabin structure with my eyes closed. Because three years ago, I’d written every line of code for this boat’s smart control system. Back then, Ethan Holt wasn’t any Mr. Holt. He was just a stray dog, covered in blood, collapsed in a rainy alley. I picked him up, taught him to code, taught him business, taught him how to crush the people who’d stepped on him. He knelt before me and said his life belonged to me. Later, his ambition grew too large. To climb higher, he’d use any means — even wanted to lock me in a cage. I kicked him away, erased all traces of myself, and disappeared completely. Three years. I heard he went crazy looking for me, turned New York upside down. Never expected Martha would deliver me to him today. The micro camera on my chest blinked with a faint red light. Vivian’s livestream had already started. I reached up and pinched the button-sized camera between my fingers. But I didn’t crush it. If she wanted a livestream, I’d give her a real show. I walked to the cabin door and raised my foot. “Bang!” The heavy iron door flew open with my kick. In the corridor outside stood two bodyguards in black suits. Hearing the noise, they whipped around, faces full of shock. “You… how did you get free?!” I ignored them and walked straight out. “Stop! Mr. Holt’s prey dares to run!” One bodyguard pulled out his baton and charged at me viciously. I sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and twisted hard. “Crack!” The sound of breaking bone echoed crisply in the corridor. The bodyguard screamed. His baton clattered to the floor. I kicked him behind the knee. He dropped to the ground with a thud. The other bodyguard backed away in terror, reaching for his radio. “Calling captain! The cargo escaped! She knows how to fight!” Cargo. They called me cargo too. I picked up the baton from the floor and walked toward him step by step. “This boat’s security system is the old version from three years ago.” I looked at him, my tone calm. “You didn’t even upgrade the system, and you dare try to stop me?” The bodyguard froze, clearly not understanding what I meant. I swung the baton hard at the side of his neck. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed limply. I stepped over their bodies and headed to the control panel at the end of the corridor. My fingers tapped rapidly across the screen. “Beep — ” System access unlocked. I took direct control of the yacht’s internal surveillance network. And while I was at it, I switched Vivian’s livestream signal to the yacht’s big screens. The show was about to begin.

In the yacht’s luxurious top-floor hall, dim lights set a scene of indulgent decadence. Vivian wore a haute couture gown, holding champagne, smiling sweetly at her phone camera. “Tonight I’m taking you all to see New York’s most exclusive party.” “I heard Mr. Holt will appear soon. Hit that follow button so you don’t miss the exciting moments.” Martha stood beside her, face full of smiles as she schmoozed with the wealthy merchants and socialites around them. “Yes, yes, our Vivian was personally invited by Mr. Holt himself.” “Soon the Jones family and Mr. Holt will practically be family.” The giant screen in the center of the hall had been playing soothing music. Suddenly, the image flickered. The music stopped. The screen showed surveillance footage from the lower cabin corridor. In the frame, I wore a torn dress, held a bloodied baton, and stood over two bodyguards lying motionless at my feet. The hall fell instantly silent. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at the screen in shock. Vivian’s smile froze on her face. Martha’s champagne glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor. “What… what’s going on?!” Vivian looked frantically between the screen and her phone. Her livestream chat had exploded. [Holy shit! Isn’t that the girl who was tied up earlier?] [Those fighting skills are insane! She took down two guys!] [Didn’t Vivian say her sister volunteered to serve Mr. Holt? Why are they fighting?] [What the hell is happening? Is this kidnapping?] Vivian broke out in a cold sweat and tried to shut down the livestream. “Network error! This is behind-the-scenes footage from a movie! Yes, just footage!” Useless. I’d already locked her livestream backend. Unless I released it, she couldn’t even turn off her phone. I looked at the surveillance camera in the corridor and slowly smiled. “Vivian, didn’t you want me to scream louder?” My voice transmitted clearly through the yacht’s PA system to every corner. “I’m out now. How exactly do you plan to make me scream?” The hall erupted in chaos. All eyes turned to Vivian and Martha. “Mrs. Jones, what’s going on? Isn’t that your family’s real daughter you just found?” “You tied up your biological daughter and sent her to Mr. Holt? And livestreamed it?” “The Jones family will do anything for money — such despicable tactics!” Martha’s face alternated between green and white as she pointed at the screen and cursed. “Skyler! You little bitch! What are you doing!” “Get back down there now! If you anger Mr. Holt, our whole family will pay with our lives!” I laughed softly. “Pay with our lives?” “Mrs. Jones, you’ve got something wrong.” “The only ones dying here today will be you.” I gripped the baton and turned toward the elevator to the top floor. The elevator doors opened and five fully armed bodyguards charged out. Leading them was a scarred man — Ethan’s head of security. “Take her down! Dead or alive!” Scarface roared and all five rushed at me. I sidestepped the first one’s baton, chopped the side of his neck with my hand. Seized his baton and smashed it into the second man’s jaw. Blood sprayed. My movements never paused, like a precision killing machine. Three years ago in the back alleys, I’d fought my way through an entire street of thugs to protect that useless Ethan. These greenhouse-raised bodyguards moved like they were in slow motion to me. Less than a minute. All five bodyguards lay on the ground groaning. Scarface clutched his broken ribs, staring at me in terror like he’d seen a ghost. “Who… who are you?” I lifted his chin with the bloody baton. “Go tell Ethan.” “His dogs are blocking my path.” Scarface trembled and scrambled away. I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. The elevator rose slowly. I knew a group of clowns was waiting for me above. And one lunatic I hadn’t seen in three years.

The elevator dinged open. The air in the hall seemed to freeze. Everyone stared at me in horror, like watching a demon crawl out of hell. I walked out of the elevator step by step, gripping the still-dripping baton. The hem of my red dress was torn, exposing my pale, slender legs speckled with blood. “Skyler! You maniac!” Martha screamed and rushed at me, raising her hand to slap me. “Do you know what you’ve done! You beat Mr. Holt’s bodyguards! You’re going to destroy the Jones family!” My eyes turned cold. I grabbed her wrist. Applied slight pressure. “Ahhh — it hurts! Let go!” Martha’s features twisted in pain. Her knees buckled and she dropped right in front of me. “When you hit me, did you worry about my pain?” I looked down at her, my voice devoid of warmth. “When you drained my bone marrow, did you worry I’d die?” “Now you’re scared?” Seeing this, Vivian immediately put on a pitiful expression. She faced the livestream camera, tears falling on command. “Skyler, why are you treating Martha like this? Even if you’re jealous of me, you can’t hit people!” “Mr. Holt will be here soon. Apologize to Martha quickly. Mr. Holt is such a good person, he’ll definitely forgive you.” She was still trying to maintain her kind rich-girl persona. I shoved Martha aside and walked straight up to Vivian. She backed up a step in fear, but still tried to act tough. “What… what do you want? This is Mr. Holt’s territory!” “Slap!” I backhanded her across the face. Vivian spun half a circle and crashed to the floor. Half her face swelled immediately, blood seeping from her mouth. “You… you dare hit me?” She covered her face, staring at me in disbelief. “Hit you? So what?” I crouched down, grabbed her hair, and forced her to look up at the camera. “You love livestreaming, right? Come on, tell everyone.” “Those talent design drafts you’re so proud of — who drew them?” “That bone marrow that saved your life — who gave it?” “And the confidence you have to stand here now — who gave you that?” Vivian struggled desperately, eyes darting away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! Let me go! Help! Mr. Holt, help!” Just then, the carved doors at the end of the hall burst open. An extremely cold, oppressive aura instantly swept through the entire hall. Everyone held their breath, unconsciously clearing a path. A man in a black haute couture suit, surrounded by a dozen bodyguards in black, walked slowly forward. His features were deep and striking, his nose bridge high, his jawline sharp as a blade. Those pitch-black eyes radiated a chilling murderous intent. New York billionaire, tech mogul, Ethan Holt. Vivian crawled toward him like she’d found her savior. “Mr. Holt! Mr. Holt, save me! This crazy woman hit me, and she beat your men!” “She doesn’t deserve to serve you at all! Mr. Holt, throw her in the ocean to feed the sharks!” Martha also hurried over, kowtowing obsequiously. “Mr. Holt, please calm down! This girl is mentally ill. The Jones family will deal with her immediately. We won’t dirty your eyes with her presence!” Ethan didn’t acknowledge them. His gaze cut through the crowd and locked onto my face. He saw my torn dress. Saw the marks on my wrists. Saw the bloodied baton in my hand. The temperature of the air around him instantly dropped to freezing. Scarface followed behind him, pointing at me and shouting: “Mr. Holt! It’s her! She’s the one who injured our men! You must…” “Shut up.” Ethan’s voice was soft but carried undeniable killing intent. Scarface immediately went silent, breaking into a cold sweat. Vivian kept fanning the flames, oblivious. “Mr. Holt, look how arrogant she is. She doesn’t respect you at all…” Ethan suddenly moved. He strode forward step by step toward me. His leather shoes struck the marble floor with dull thuds, like footsteps on everyone’s hearts. Vivian and Martha exchanged glances, wild joy flashing in their eyes. They thought Ethan was going to kill me himself. The other people in the hall shook their heads, certain I was done for. Ethan walked up to me and stopped. He stood a full head taller than me. His massive shadow completely enveloped me. I met his eyes without flinching. Three seconds later. Under the shocked, stunned gazes of everyone present. The all-powerful, ruthless Mr. Holt of New York. Suddenly bent his knees. “Thud.” He dropped straight to his knees before me. His hands clutched desperately at my waist, burying his face in my dress. His broad shoulders trembled violently. A low, hoarse, aggrieved voice thick with tears echoed through the hall. “Baby…” “You’re finally willing to keep me…”

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I’m the long-lost biological daughter of a wealthy family. After returning home, I did only three things. First, I installed surveillance cameras throughout the house — no blind spots, 360 degrees. Second, I dumped a whole bag of “true vs. fake heiress” stories on them and told them to learn how to handle the relationship between a biological daughter and an adopted one. Third, I stayed ready to go completely unhinged at any moment. It turns out, the first two didn’t work on a family that’s both blind and willfully ignorant. Only by going full-on crazy and taking everyone down with me could I reclaim what rightfully belongs to me. “I’m the one who stole eighteen years of Vanessa’s life.” “Now that she’s back, I should leave.” The fake heiress stood there in an expensive white designer dress, crying like a wilting flower. Just as Mom, Dad, and my brothers were about to comfort her, I took the initiative and threw two large canvas bags off my shoulder onto the expensive floor. “Wait a second, everyone.” “The security here is terrible.” “Let me install some surveillance cameras first.” To survive, I’d worked countless part-time jobs. Installing surveillance cameras was nothing difficult for me. I had to admit, wealthy estates were huge — but also truly contradictory. They didn’t even have a single security camera. I casually wiped the sweat from my face and flashed an honest smile at the family members with their varying expressions. “Dad, Mom, Vanessa, Ethan, Lucas — you don’t need to thank me too much.” “Sure, buying all this stuff drained my entire savings, but at least it’ll keep everyone safe.” “Plus, now other wealthy families won’t laugh at us for not being able to afford surveillance cameras.” Seeing their suddenly stifled expressions, I quickly bent down to open the other bag and pulled out several novels with flashy covers. Without waiting for a response, I stuffed them into their stiff hands. “This is my first time being a real heiress, so I don’t have much experience.” “But I figured reading more books can’t hurt.” I rubbed my rough fingers together, my eyes sincere. “Let’s study and learn together.” Vanessa clutched the book in her hands so tightly her knuckles went white. Tears instantly streamed down her face. “Vanessa, are you doing all this because you’re guarding against me?” “I should just leave.” I quickly moved aside from the doorway and gave her a thumbs-up. “You want to go back to your biological parents?” “I knew you were beautiful inside and out.” “All that wealth didn’t make you forget your real mom and dad.” “Sure, your dad loves drinking, gambling, and beating people.” “And your mom is cruel and vicious — eighteen years ago, she deliberately switched you and me while working as a maid for the Hayes family.” “But at the end of the day, you share the same blood as them.” “There’s a saying, isn’t there?” “A child doesn’t despise their mother’s ugliness, and a dog doesn’t despise its family’s poverty.” “No matter how awful they are, they’re still the ones who brought you into this world.” With every word I spoke, Vanessa’s face grew paler. By the end, her whole body was swaying. Ethan quickly pulled her into his arms protectively. “Vanessa, shut up.” “Pearl was just a baby who didn’t understand anything back then.” “What fault could she possibly have?” I nodded eagerly. “Ethan, you’re New York’s best lawyer.” “Since you’ve determined that switching children isn’t a crime, then this whole thing must be perfectly legal.” Watching Ethan’s expression darken progressively, I slapped my thigh hard. “I’m such an idiot!” “Pearl is so kind — how could I say she has dirty blood flowing through her veins?” “Three years ago, when her adoptive parents secretly came to the Hayes residence looking for her, she even gave them a large sum of money.” My eldest brother’s handsome face turned completely dark at this point. Pearl, leaning against him, rolled her eyes back and fainted. “Lucas, go get the family doctor quickly.” Lucas was my second brother. Ethan carried Pearl upstairs in a rush. I anxiously followed behind them. “Wait, so when you’re sick you’re supposed to see a doctor?” “But my adoptive parents always said I just needed to tough it out.” Mom and Dad, who had been about to follow them upstairs, involuntarily stopped in their tracks. The two exchanged glances and thoughtfully opened the “true versus fake heiress” novel in their hands.

Pearl now felt dizzy and nauseous whenever she saw me. Ethan ordered me not to go anywhere near the second floor and made me stay in the servants’ quarters on the first floor. I hugged my patched-up little blanket, my face full of gratitude. “Thank you, Lucas.” “At my adoptive parents’ house, I was only allowed to sleep in the dog kennel and the cattle shed.” “You’re actually letting me stay inside the house — you’re so good to me.” “I must express my sincere gratitude.” I immediately knelt down. This whole performance left everyone in the hall completely stunned. Mom pulled me up with trembling hands. “Vanessa, is this really how Daniel and his family treated you?” I nodded, then shook my head. “Mom, actually my adoptive parents were pretty good to me.” “As long as I worked hard enough, they’d share a bite or two of the leftovers from the dog’s bowl with me.” I proudly rolled up my sleeves. “Look, I may be skin and bones, but I’m really strong.” “I did all the housework, big and small.” Mom’s gaze fell on the crisscrossing scars — old and new — on my arms. She couldn’t hold it in anymore and broke down crying. I clumsily tried to wipe the tears from her face. “Mom, don’t cry.” “My adoptive parents said I was just a little bastard, and that letting me live this long was already an enormous blessing.” The word “bastard” completely enraged Dad, who had been playing the invisible man until now. He roared at Lucas, “Go investigate this for me! How dare Daniel have the audacity to abuse my daughter like this?” Lucas clenched his fists tightly. He was torn. He really didn’t like me, this sister who had suddenly barged into their lives, but I did carry Hayes family blood after all. The way Daniel and his wife treated me was essentially trampling on the Hayes family’s dignity. “Lucas, please don’t investigate.” “I’m begging you on my knees.” Pearl appeared at the top of the stairs, looking so fragile a gust of wind could knock her over. The family members who had just started feeling sympathy for me all rushed upstairs to comfort her. I was so worried about Pearl that I shouted anxiously from behind. “Dad, Lucas — Daniel and his wife are Pearl’s biological parents, after all.” “They’ve done so many illegal things.” “If you really investigate them, they’ll definitely be arrested.” “Pearl shares their blood — won’t it break her heart?” Mom and Dad’s hands, reaching out to touch Pearl, froze in midair. Pearl stood on the second floor looking down at me, grinding her teeth in hatred. I smiled and waved at her. “You don’t need to thank me.” “We’re such good sisters, even if we don’t share the same parents.” Pearl’s eyes rolled back again and she fainted. This time, she probably wasn’t faking it. Dad looked at Pearl being carried horizontally in Ethan’s arms. His usually loving eyes held a trace of scrutiny. “Pearl’s body is weak.” “Take her back to her room.” “As for Vanessa — she’s your real sister.” “You can’t be too biased.” Then he instructed the butler, “Go prepare the room next to Pearl’s for Vanessa.” Lucas instinctively objected. “Dad, no.” “Pearl has a lot of things.” “All the rooms on the second floor are prepared for her.” Mom raised her hand and slapped Lucas across the face. “Lucas, do you have any humanity left?” “When we were spoiling Pearl like a princess, your real sister was sleeping in a dog kennel at the Harper house, fighting dogs for food.” “Just because Vanessa is sensible and doesn’t fight for things doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve them.” “Mom, I know Vanessa suffered, but none of this is Pearl’s fault.” “Why should she be neglected just because Vanessa came back?” “In my heart, I only recognize Pearl as my sister.” Lucas argued stubbornly. Afraid the two would damage their mother-son relationship because of me, I quickly explained. “Mom, don’t blame Lucas.” “He’s right.” “All the family’s love belongs to Pearl.” “I don’t want anything.” “I’ll go back to where I belong right now.” I hugged my tattered blanket and ran out of the mansion in a flash, heading straight for the dog kennel.

That very night, I moved into the room next to Pearl’s. According to the servants’ gossip, both Ethan and Lucas had been scolded by Mom and Dad, who even ordered them to read those “true versus fake heiress” novels I’d brought back. I locked my door from the inside and pulled out a diary with a cartoon cover. My fingertips traced the cold pages, and finally I used a red pen to make a checkmark. Early the next morning, Pearl and I appeared at the staircase landing at the same time. She suddenly grabbed my hand and positioned herself to fall and roll down the stairs. I quickly grabbed the staircase railing. “Pearl, I installed surveillance cameras all throughout the mansion — 360-degree coverage with no blind spots.” “Please don’t do anything rash.” She reluctantly let go of me and went downstairs resentfully. I followed her to the dining room. Mom, Dad, and my brothers were already there. All four of them had heavy dark circles under their eyes — clearly they’d stayed up late. Mom beckoned me to sit beside her. “Vanessa, we’ve all read those ‘true versus fake heiress’ novels you brought.” “Don’t worry — we’re not like those brainless parents in the books.” “You’re my flesh and blood.” “I would never mistreat you.” Lucas awkwardly chimed in. “I’ve already had people investigate your life at the Harper house.” “You really did suffer all these years.” “But your suffering wasn’t caused by Pearl.” “Don’t keep targeting her.” Ethan agreed. “When Daniel and his wife switched you and Pearl all those years ago, they were just trying to give their own daughter a better life.” “The law doesn’t go beyond human compassion.” “Be magnanimous and don’t pursue their legal responsibility.” Pearl grabbed my hand and pressed it against her face. “Three years ago when I secretly gave them money, it was actually to help you live a better life.” “But ultimately I was too selfish.” “I didn’t tell Mom and Dad the truth right away.” “Hit me if it makes you feel better, okay?” The crisp sound of slapping instantly rang out. Everyone stared at me in shock. Lucas instinctively swallowed. “Vanessa, you actually hit her?” I looked bewildered, like a child who’d made a mistake, scratching at my hair. “Lucas, I thought Pearl really wanted me to hit her.” “I’m sorry — I’m just too straightforward.” “I won’t do it again.” “Pearl, you’re so kind — you won’t blame me, will you?” Pearl shook her head through her tears. “Vanessa, as long as you’re happy, you can torment me however you want.” I looked helplessly at the two people in the head seats. “Mom, Dad — did those ‘true versus fake heiress’ novels mention how to handle this kind of situation?” “I think Pearl is mad at me.” The two of them had just started feeling dissatisfied with me, but hearing me mention those novels immediately sobered them up. Mom set her knife and fork down on the table with a clatter, her voice stern. “Enough.” “You’re the one who told your sister to hit you, and now you’re crying for everyone to see?” “If your parents hadn’t had such vile intentions back then, you’d be the one living that subhuman existence.” “Not sending them to prison is already us showing you consideration.” Pearl hadn’t expected Mom and Dad to take my side this time. She panicked and even forgot to cry. Mom didn’t spare Pearl another glance. Instead, she held my hand and brought up the subject of school. “Vanessa, your brothers both graduated from prestigious foreign universities.” “Even though Pearl is an art student, she got into a decent college too.” “As a child of the Hayes family, academic credentials may not represent everything, but they can’t be too poor either.” Ethan applied ointment to Pearl’s face while not forgetting to mock me. “With your 150-point score, you’re really embarrassing our family.” “Even though Pearl doesn’t have Hayes blood, she’s just as excellent as Lucas and me.” “She’s more like our family’s child.” Pearl modestly shook her head. “Don’t praise me like that.” “Vanessa’s thought process may be a bit unusual, but she’s excellent too.” “Pearl really has a good eye.” “Ethan, the reason I scored only 800 on the SAT is because I only took the math exam.” As soon as I said this, Mom and Dad stared at me in shock. “Vanessa, you actually scored perfect on math?” “Then why did you only take one subject?”

I looked at Lucas in confusion. “Aren’t you supposed to be a business tycoon — the kind who can find out everything about a person in minutes?” “Didn’t you investigate why?” Lucas coughed lightly and avoided my gaze guiltily. “That was my oversight.” Pearl looked at me apologetically. “Vanessa, don’t blame Lucas.” “It’s my fault for being sickly.” “He was busy taking care of me, so he didn’t finish reading your information.” “If you want to hate someone, hate me.” “I’m the one who took away your chance to go to college.” I reached my hand toward Pearl. She instinctively backed away. I smiled and stood up, pressing down on her head and patting it firmly. “How could I hate you?” “I’m extremely grateful now that you and I were switched.” “The Hayes family is such a wealthy household and they still couldn’t keep you healthy.” “If you’d been at the Harper house, you’d have died long ago.” Pearl looked at Mom and Dad’s faces turning cold and went deathly pale, not daring to talk back anymore. Mom touched my face lovingly. “Vanessa, tell Mom — who exactly stopped you from taking the SAT?” I sighed sorrowfully. “Mom, my adoptive parents locked me up.” “They were afraid if I got into college, they’d never be able to control me again.” Dad slammed his hand on the table. “Damn that Daniel!” “Ethan, I order you to send that couple to prison as quickly as possible.” Mom’s eyes reddened with heartache. “Vanessa, you’ve suffered so much.” “It’s okay that you didn’t do well this time.” “We’ll take it again next year.” I frowned in distress. “Mom, do I have to repeat senior year?” “But I’ve already been accepted to Harvard through early admission because of my awards in math and physics competitions.” Time seemed to stop for an instant. Everyone stared at me with their mouths slightly open. Mom was the first to recover. She excitedly pulled me into her embrace. “Vanessa, you’re Mom’s pride and joy.” Dad nodded as well. “Truly worthy of being my daughter.” Though Ethan and Lucas didn’t say anything, their expressions showed they now recognized me. Pearl never imagined that someone who’d been trampled into the abyss could have a chance to rise up and shine brilliantly. No. She couldn’t let Vanessa take away her identity as the wealthy family’s heiress. After Mom and Dad learned of my astonishing talent in physics and mathematics, they immediately decided to hold a grand homecoming banquet for me. To ensure I appeared before the upper-class elite in the best possible condition, Mom hired professionals to care for and style me. By the day of the banquet, I had completely transformed. The black gown and exquisite hair and makeup made me look even more refined and elegant. As I descended the spiral staircase step by step, my bearing was like that of an heir who had risen from the ashes, determined to reclaim everything that belonged to her. “Wow, she’s beautiful!” “Is this the Hayes family’s real daughter?” “Didn’t they say she grew up in the countryside?” “She doesn’t look like it at all.” “This real heiress is truly remarkable!” “She won first place in both the National High School Mathematics and Physics competitions, and has already been accepted to Harvard.” “With her talent, entering a scientific research institution for further study is just a matter of time!” “I used to think Pearl was pretty outstanding, but compared to the real heiress, she falls far short.” “What’s fake can never become real.” “Even if a pheasant flies up into a tree, it still can’t become a phoenix.” Parents love intelligent children. Amidst everyone’s praise, the eighteen-year gap between me and my parents seemed to slowly disappear. Just then, Pearl rushed up to me and my parents, holding a diary with a cartoon cover. “Mom, Dad, don’t let Vanessa fool you.” “She hates all of us.” “She wants to destroy the Hayes family.” “This diary records every step of her plan in detail.” I lunged at her in panic. “How could you read my private diary?” “Give it back!” My guilty reaction made Mom and Dad suspicious. Ethan grabbed the diary first and strode up to the speaking platform, about to place it on the video display stand so all the guests at today’s event could view my diary together. I fell to my knees at Mom’s feet, crying and hugging her legs. “Mom, Dad, I’m begging you — please don’t look at it, okay?” Mom forcefully pulled her leg away, looking at me with disgust. “Vanessa, you’ve disappointed me so much.”

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On our seventh wedding anniversary, my husband Ethan brought his pregnant subordinate home. After I caught the two of them in bed together, Ethan said disdainfully: “Unlike you, a dead fish, I have needs. Vivian is younger than you. She understands what I want.” Right in front of me, he put Vivian’s feet on his lap and massaged them. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I just packed a few old clothes in front of them. I tore up the terminal illness diagnosis I’d been hiding and flushed the pieces down the toilet. Ethan’s friends were all betting in their group chat that I’d be back on my knees begging to reconcile by morning. After all, I’d been a stay-at-home wife for seven years. I even had to watch his face just to buy groceries. But half a month passed, and I vanished completely. Ethan panicked. He called, his voice seething: “Jane, if you don’t get your ass back here, we’re getting divorced!” But a deep, cold male voice answered the phone. The billionaire tycoon Adrian replied icily: “Jane just had surgery. She’s sleeping. My lawyers will send the divorce papers.”

On our seventh wedding anniversary, Ethan brought his pregnant subordinate home. “Jane, come pour Vivian some water.” His tone was casual, as if he were ordering around a maid. The woman called Vivian, her belly showing just a hint of pregnancy, leaned delicately against Ethan. Her eyes held undisguised provocation. I was holding a plate of freshly made pasta, my hands frozen in mid-air. The steam from the pasta blurred my vision. “What else can you do besides cook?” Ethan frowned, his face full of impatience. “Vivian can help me land the big project with Skyline Corp. She understands me better than you do.” Right in front of me, he put Vivian’s feet on his lap and massaged them carefully. His movements were so gentle, as if he were handling a priceless treasure. Seven years. He had never been this tender with me. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a giant hand. Even breathing hurt. But I didn’t cry or make a scene. I just calmly untied my apron. Under their sticky gazes, I walked into the bedroom and packed a few old clothes. The wheels of my suitcase scraped across the floor with a harsh noise. Ethan finally looked up, his eyes mocking: “Jane, playing the runaway game again? Where can you even go?” I ignored him and walked into the bathroom. From the deepest part of the drawer, I pulled out the terminal illness diagnosis I’d hidden for a month. Stomach cancer. Stage four. I’d imagined countless times what his reaction might be when I showed him this paper. Maybe a hint of shock. A bit of guilt. Now I saw how naive I’d been. I calmly tore it into pieces and threw them into the toilet. I pressed the flush button and watched those fragments swirl into the vortex and disappear. Just like my seven years of ridiculous marriage, and what little remained of my life. Walking out of the bathroom, I dragged my suitcase without a shred of attachment. Ethan’s voice came from behind me, carrying a condescending sense of charity. “Come back when you’re done with your tantrum. Don’t be ungrateful.” Vivian giggled, leaning close to his ear: “Ethan, don’t be angry. Jane’s probably just upset. Women are like that. Just humor her a bit.” I heard Ethan laugh. “Where can she go? A waste of space who’s been a stay-at-home wife for seven years. She has to watch my face just to buy groceries. I bet by tomorrow morning, she’ll be crawling back on her knees begging me.” I opened the door and walked out. The night wind was cold against my face, but it made me feel more clear-headed than I’d been in years.

Ethan posted a new update on social media. He changed our wedding photo to an intimate shot of him and Vivian. The caption read: “The beginning of a new life.” His group chat with his like-minded friends was even more lively. “Holy shit! Ethan, you brought your mistress home to provoke your wife?” “That Jane should’ve been replaced ages ago. She’s lifeless all the time. Vivian’s way more understanding.” “Let me open a betting pool on how many days before Jane comes back. I bet three days max!” “Three days? I bet one day! She’ll be kneeling at the door by tomorrow morning.” Ethan sent a smug emoji. “I bet she won’t last past midnight tonight.” They discussed me without restraint, as if I weren’t a person but just a ridiculous wager. They were certain I couldn’t survive without Ethan. After all, for him, I’d given up my career, my friends, everything. From a promising research scientist, I’d become a housewife who only revolved around the kitchen and her husband. But one day passed. Three days passed. A week passed. I didn’t go back. I vanished like I’d evaporated from the world, leaving no trace. Ethan started getting anxious. He began calling me, progressing from impatience to furious rage. “Jane, how long are you going to keep this up?” “Who the hell do you think you are? I’m telling you, my patience has limits!” “If you don’t come back, I’m cutting off your card!” Finally, after half a month, all his patience ran out. The moment the call connected, he practically roared. “Jane, this is your last chance! If you don’t get your ass back here, we’re getting divorced!” I had no strength to speak. The stabbing pain in my stomach nearly made me pass out. My phone slipped from my powerless hand. A well-defined hand caught it steadily. On the other end, Ethan was still shouting: “Say something! Are you mute?!” A deep, cold male voice came through the receiver clearly. “She just had surgery. She’s sleeping.” The other end went silent instantly. The man paused, his voice carrying no warmth. “Also, about the divorce, you don’t need to wait.” “My lawyers will personally deliver the divorce papers.”

Ethan was stunned. “Who are you? What gives you the right to make decisions for Jane?” “I’m her current guardian.” After saying this, the man hung up. When Ethan called again, he only heard the cold busy tone. He was so angry he nearly smashed his phone. A woman who’d been his maid for seven years, a waste who couldn’t survive without him, dared not answer his calls? And found some wild man? He immediately used all his connections to trace that number. The result made his heart skip a beat. No information found. That number was a top-level encrypted line, completely untraceable. For the first time, an indescribable panic rose in Ethan’s chest. At that moment, in the top-floor VIP hospital room, I slowly opened my eyes. I saw a pure white ceiling and smelled the sharp scent of disinfectant. The wound in my stomach still throbbed faintly. “You’re awake?” A familiar yet strange voice sounded in my ear. I turned my head and saw the man sitting by the bed. Adrian. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, his manner cool and elegant, though the dark circles under his eyes disrupted that composure. We hadn’t seen each other in eight years. He looked more mature than in college, and even more unreachable. “You…” My voice was hoarse. I couldn’t form a complete sentence. “You collapsed on the street. A passerby called emergency services,” he explained concisely. “In your phone’s contacts, there was only Ethan.” “I called him. He didn’t answer.” Adrian’s tone was flat, revealing no emotion. But I heard what he didn’t say. When I needed him most, my husband was with another woman. “Later, I had my assistant check your medical records.” Adrian looked at me, his gaze deep. “Stage four stomach cancer. Jane, why didn’t you tell me?” I avoided his eyes and forced a smile. “What good would telling you do? We’re not connected anymore.” “Not connected?” Adrian repeated the phrase, his tone rising slightly at the end. “Jane, you left with Ethan without a word years ago. You didn’t even say goodbye. And now you tell me we’re not connected?” His proximity made me feel suffocated. What happened back then was my debt to him. It was my weakness, my betrayal of our promise. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say besides this. “I don’t need your apology.” Adrian stood up, looking down at me from above. “I’m only asking you one thing. Are you divorcing Ethan or not?” I looked at him and suddenly smiled. “Yes.” “Not only that, I want him to lose everything.” The next day, Ethan met Adrian’s lawyer in his office. “Mr. Harris, this is the divorce agreement drafted by Ms. Jane.” The lawyer pushed a document toward him. “Ms. Jane requests that marital assets be split fifty-fifty. Additionally, the villa you currently reside in is Ms. Jane’s premarital property. Please vacate within three days.” Ethan looked at the lawyer like he was looking at a lunatic. “On what grounds? I built that company from scratch! The villa is in her name, but I paid the down payment and the mortgage!” “Mr. Harris, your company’s startup capital came from the inheritance Ms. Jane received from her parents. As for the villa, we have evidence proving all payments came from Ms. Jane’s personal account.” The lawyer produced another document. “This is evidence of your extramarital affair and your child with a third party. If this goes to court, you may not get a single cent.” Ethan’s face turned deathly pale.

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