Category: English

I was working overtime until late at night before Christmas when I came across a trending Ins post about managing employees. One comment stood out like a sore thumb. [My husband’s got a brilliant strategy. He’s the company CEO, and he specifically targets excellent female employees for underground relationships. Manipulates them into slaving away for the company.] [Every time my husband fucks her, he kicks her out of bed to work on proposals. That woman hasn’t taken a day off in 3 years.] Some people below defended the female employee, cursing the couple for their cruelty. But she carelessly added another picture. In the photo, a tall blond man wearing an apron was cooking in the kitchen. My breath caught, and my grip on my phone tightened suddenly. I could never mistake him. The silhouette in the photo was unmistakably my billionaire boyfriend with whom I’d been in an underground relationship for five years. I flipped my phone face-down on the desk and took several deep breaths. When I turned it back over, my fingertips trembling slightly, I zoomed in on the photo bit by bit. The watch on the man’s wrist was the New Year’s gift I’d bought him after saving up a whole year’s worth of bonuses. Even the small red mole behind his right ear was identical to Johnson’s, down to the last detail. Someone in the comments asked, [Hasn’t that female employee ever suspected anything?] The woman replied triumphantly: [Every time I call, my husband tells her I’m his mom. A few times he even coaxed that stupid woman into calling me “mom” several times.] The cold light from the screen stung my eyes until they watered. A few days ago, after Johnson answered a call, he suddenly smiled and said to me, “Laura, my mom wants to say a few words to you.” I froze for a moment, then quickly took the phone and softly called out “Auntie” a few times. On the other end of the line, there was no response at all. Johnson teased me from the side with a laugh, “My mom’s hoping we’ll get married soon. She’s waiting for you to change how you address her.” Though I found it abrupt, I couldn’t resist his coaxing and finally called out softly, “Mom.” As soon as I spoke, uncontrollable laughter burst from the other end of the line. She said “good” three times in a row, then hurriedly hung up. At the time I felt something was off, but Johnson coaxed away my doubts with a few words. Now I know that on the other end of that call was his legitimate wife. My fingertips trembling uncontrollably, I clicked into that woman’s Ins profile. The latest post was from two weeks ago: [New Year’s gift from hubby, just a bit too expensive~] But on that same day, Johnson had said to me, “The company’s not doing well this year. As my future wife, you should forgo your year-end bonus. And your overtime pay—I’ll make it up to you next year.” My hands shook even more violently as I continued scrolling. [Vacationing in the Maldives with hubby, days without work are absolutely the best!] During that same period, I’d been pulling all-nighters for three consecutive days trying to close a major deal, eventually drinking myself into gastric bleeding at a business dinner. After the contract was signed, I even attributed all the credit to Johnson, who hadn’t contributed a thing, just to help establish his authority in the company. The next post: [Moving to our new home! Hubby specially bought this riverside mansion for me and the baby.] The photo showed a spacious, bright living room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a dazzling river view. Meanwhile, I hadn’t even been allocated employee housing. In this expensive city, I rented a tiny, old apartment in a remote area, with a daily commute of at least two hours each way. How ridiculous that I’d trusted Johnson so completely. I’d believed his lies about the “company doing poorly, on the verge of bankruptcy.” I didn’t spend his money, didn’t ask for raises, worked myself to the bone—all so he could have it easier. Five years of dedication, and in the end, I’d been making wedding clothes for his happy life with another woman. Tears fell without warning. I hastily raised my hand to wipe them away, but accidentally knocked over the now-cold takeout container on my desk. Leftover food and rice scattered across the floor in a mess. I finally couldn’t hold back anymore and crouched on the ground, sobbing. Johnson was in his riverside mansion with his wife and child, eating a New Year’s Eve dinner of seafood and abalone. Perhaps after eating, they’d cuddle by the window watching the spectacular fireworks, then nestle on the sofa watching the lively New Year’s gala. But I was working overtime in a pitch-black office building. Not only was there no overtime pay, the meal I ate was a ten-dollar box lunch. I don’t know how long I cried before my phone rang. When I answered, Johnson’s voice came through the speaker, “Laura, Happy New Year!” “I’m still out of town attracting investors. You handle things internally while I handle external affairs—let’s work together next year to grow the company bigger and stronger!”

I sniffled hard, suppressing the bitterness rising in my throat. “What are you doing right now?” Johnson’s voice carried its usual weariness and dependence, “Just finished entertaining clients. My stomach’s killing me from all the drinking.” “I wish you were here.” In the past, hearing these words would have broken my heart. I’d immediately say “I’m here for you.” Then he’d naturally push even more difficult work onto me. This time I didn’t respond. After a few seconds of silence on the phone, he spoke up, “By the way Laura, you probably still can’t leave tomorrow.” “Bob from KING Group is bringing his wife and kids here for vacation in a few days. I need you to host them the entire time.” The train ticket home that was supposed to be before New Year’s—I’d changed and refunded it, refunded and changed it again. I’d long since lost count of how many times my trip home had been postponed. I only remembered my grandmother asking cautiously over the phone multiple times, “Laura, can you come home this year? Grandma made your favorite cured meat.” My voice trembled uncontrollably as I asked him, “Why is it always me? I haven’t had a single day off all year. I haven’t been home in so long.” “And Grandma’s sick. You know I need to go back and see her.” Johnson’s tone instantly cooled, and he started with the same old speech, “The company belongs to both of us. I’m out here busting my ass attracting investors, so of course you need to help me hold down the fort.” “Whether this partnership works out depends entirely on this reception. I can only trust you with it.” Seeing I didn’t respond, he softened his tone to coax me, “Be good. Once we close this deal, I’ll go back with you.” “Doesn’t your grandma want most to see you settled down? Once we’re stable, we’ll go back together in style, okay?” Before I could say anything more, the call was already disconnected. This wasn’t the first time he’d made such a promise. In the third year of our underground relationship, after he learned I only had a grandmother to depend on, “Going home with you to see Grandma” became the perpetual carrot he dangled in front of me that never materialized. Two years ago in summer, when he asked me to deliver a contract to the west side of the city in the rain while running a high fever, he said, “Deliver this and we’ll close the contract. Close it, and I’ll go home with you to see Grandma.” In the fourth year, when he wanted me to give up my annual leave, he said, “Work overtime this New Year’s Eve, and once we get through this busy period, I promise I’ll go back with you.” Right up until now, he was still saying, “Once we work hard and buy a house, once we’re stable, we’ll go back to see Grandma and bring her to live with us.” But in reality, he already had a house. A riverside mansion, brightly lit. The woman of the house inside wasn’t me. My phone suddenly vibrated. A message from Johnson popped up on the screen. [Don’t be upset. Take this money and get yourself something good to eat. I’ll make it up to you properly when I get back.] [The company accounts are tight this year. I’ve wronged you, but next year I’ll definitely make it up to you with more.] Then a transfer notification appeared. I didn’t open it, but I knew the maximum amount would be no more than two hundred dollars. At the same time, that woman posted a new update: [Hubby transferred the entire year’s net profit from his company to my card, not a penny less~] The accompanying image was a screenshot of her bank card balance. Behind the number were eight neat zeros. A netizen who, like me, had found their way from the “managing employees” post to the woman’s profile asked, [Your husband made this much this year—how much does he give that female employee to make her work so hard?] She replied mockingly, [Two hundred, and that’s only because I couldn’t stand watching and told him to send it to that cheap, stupid woman working overtime.]

I turned off my phone, wiped the tears from my face, and prepared to go home first. The streets were empty. The subway had long since stopped running, and the buses had suspended service for New Year’s. I stood on the roadside for nearly half an hour, frozen until my hands and feet were numb, before finally flagging down a taxi. The driver rolled down his window and held up three fingers, “New Year’s rates. Three hundred extra.” Cold wind poured down my collar. I gritted my teeth and got in anyway. The warm air conditioning inside the car brought me back to life a little. I instinctively reached for my phone, wanting to message Johnson and complain like I’d done countless times before. But my fingers stopped mid-air. This had happened before. Getting price-gouged for rides, rudely cut in line, receiving the wrong flavor in food delivery. I’d always complained to him feeling wronged. He’d always brush it off with one casual sentence, “Just make do if you can. Live and let live.” Back then I always thought he was magnanimous by nature, didn’t like to fuss. Until I saw that woman’s profile. When she complained about difficulty getting rides, Johnson immediately bought her a car and hired a dedicated driver. When she casually mentioned the queue at a trendy restaurant was too long, Johnson directly paid everyone in line five hundred dollars each so she could go in first. As for food delivery… She never had to eat takeout at all. Johnson thought outside food was unhealthy, so he specifically learned to cook and personally made her three meals a day. All the grievances he told me to “just make do with” were “major issues” that required immediate resolution for the person he truly loved. Love versus lack of love—turns out they’re so distinctly different. I turned to look out the window at the thousands of lights, each home warm. Only I was adrift. Tears could no longer be held back and fell silently. Later I cried louder and louder, my whole body trembling. The driver glanced at me several times through the rearview mirror. Finally, when we stopped at my apartment complex entrance, he sighed, “Forget it, miss. I won’t charge the extra three hundred. Get home quickly.” Pity from a complete stranger. Yet the man I’d loved wholeheartedly for five years, whom I’d considered my entire future, Watched me like a fool, exhausting my youth to build happiness for him and another woman. After getting home and washing up carelessly, I collapsed on the sofa exhausted and fell asleep. Near dawn, urgent phone ringing yanked me from a nightmare. I groggily answered, but the moment I heard the voice on the other end, I was instantly awake. It was Grandma’s neighbor Kingsley, his voice trembling with urgency, “Your grandmother got up early to use the bathroom, but there’s still ice in the yard that hasn’t melted—she slipped and fell! We just sent her to the hospital!” My mind went “buzz,” instantly freezing me to the core. Without time to think, I threw on my coat, grabbed a few belongings, and rushed to the airport. Inside, crowds surged. I squeezed to the gate entrance but couldn’t get my ticket to scan through the turnstile no matter what. After trying repeatedly, the machine only coldly repeated its error message. I hurriedly turned to the service counter, “Excuse me, could you please check my ticket?” The staff member took my ID, typed on the keyboard a few times, then looked up at me, “I’m sorry, ma’am. There’s no booking under your name.” I froze, then anxiously leaned forward, “How is that possible?” “Please look again carefully. I just changed my booking a few days ago! The earliest flight today!” She checked again and still shook her head, “There really isn’t one.” My throat tightened as I asked with a sob in my voice, “Can I still buy a ticket now? Any flight at all!” “I’m sorry, all flights are fully booked.” People in line behind me began urging impatiently. I numbly shuffled my feet, pushed around by the crowd. Suddenly, a thought appeared in my mind. With trembling hands I pulled out my phone and called Johnson, “Johnson… did you refund my plane ticket?”

On the other end, Johnson seemed not yet awake, mumbling an “mm-hmm,” “I knew you’d still be determined to go home.” “That’s why I refunded your ticket for you. Focus on the reception—that’s what matters.” My voice changed pitch with anxiety, tears suddenly pouring out, “Johnson, do you know Grandma fell! She’s in the hospital! I have to go back immediately!” The other end was silent for two seconds, then came a short, sharp laugh, “Laura, when did you learn to lie to me like this?” “To go home, you’d even make up an excuse about Grandma being sick?” “I’m not lying! It was Kingsley who…” “Enough.” He impatiently cut me off, “Stop making a scene. Get ready for the reception. I was entertaining clients until midnight—I haven’t even slept yet.” But before the call disconnected, I clearly heard a woman’s lazy, soft murmur. Tears splashed onto the screen, blurring everything. I spun around anxiously in the airport lobby, opening all the ride-hailing apps with trembling hands. Back to my hometown—nearly three hundred kilometers. I kept increasing the offer, from two hundred to five hundred, then to eight hundred… The system kept displaying “No drivers available.” In desperation, I called Johnson again, wanting to beg him to drive me back. But the phone rang twice before being rudely disconnected. Immediately after, a message popped up, cold in tone: [Going to entertain clients soon. Don’t bother me. Handle the reception yourself.] But that woman’s profile showed the latest update: Johnson had taken her to see a movie, then to a trendy restaurant that required reservations half a year in advance. He was attentive to her every need. But he ignored me completely. I bit my lip, suppressing the sourness in my eyes. I first transferred money to Kingsley, asking her to take good care of Grandma. Suffering until afternoon, Kingsley video-called me. On the screen, Grandma lay in the hospital bed, her face a bit pale but her spirits still good. She tried hard to smile at me, wrinkles bunching together, “Laura, Grandma’s fine. The doctor says I can go home in a couple days.” “Focus on your work. Don’t make a special trip back.” Watching her forced smile, my throat ached with sourness. I could only nod vigorously, unable to say a word. After hanging up, I opened the ticket booking app again and unexpectedly managed to book a ticket home for January 5th. My fingertip paused. A plan slowly formed in my mind. On January 3rd, I put away all my emotions. Following Johnson’s requirements, I meticulously received Bob from KING Group and his wife. Throughout, I smiled warmly, was thorough and considerate, without a single mistake. Johnson was very satisfied with my performance. He proactively messaged saying he’d reimburse my ticket home. [See, it’s not that I don’t want you to go back, otherwise I wouldn’t have specifically reimbursed you.] [Keeping you a few more days is all for our company, so we can live well in the future.] I didn’t reply with a single word, just accepted the payment. On January 5th, ticket in hand, I boarded the plane home on time. Arriving at the county hospital, I stayed by Grandma’s side every moment, carefully attending to her. During these days, Johnson sent a few sporadic messages. Ostensibly asking about Grandma’s health, but actually urging me to return to the company soon. I treated them all as if I hadn’t seen them. He wasn’t in a rush either. After all, in the past, no matter how badly we’d fought, I’d always come crawling back to him in the end. Unfortunately, this time his calculations were wrong. It wasn’t until ten days later that I finally returned to the company at his repeated urging. As soon as I entered the office, he coldly rapped on the desk, “So many days late. No perfect attendance this month. According to company policy, your wages will be docked too.” I smiled indifferently. I pulled a sheet of paper from my bag and slapped it on the desk with a “smack,” “I’m resigning.” “Also, all my overtime pay, performance bonuses, and year-end bonuses from these years—pay them all.” The paper crinkled in his grip. He stared at the number at the bottom for a few seconds, then laughed out loud, “Three million six hundred forty thousand? Laura, even throwing a tantrum has limits.” Seeing my serious expression, his face gradually darkened, “You really want to resign? Fine by me. Does the company stop functioning without you?” “But this money—don’t expect to get a single penny.” Before he finished speaking, the office door burst open. His assistant rushed in, face ashen, “Johnson, this is bad!” “All last year’s partners say they’re terminating cooperation, and Bob who we met with before New Year’s also says he won’t sign the contract!”

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The new intern loves calling my husband Nathan “Daddy.” “Daddy, I got my period. Buy me some pads.” “Daddy, I can’t fasten my bra. Help me.” “Daddy, why aren’t you wearing my hair tie on your wrist? As punishment, you have to wear two—pink ones, okay?” I frowned in displeasure, but my husband just waved it off dismissively. “She’s just playing around. Once the novelty wears off, she’ll stop.” But at the company’s annual gala, she stumbled into my husband’s arms, her eyes red and pitiful. “Daddy, I twisted my ankle in these heels. It hurts so much.” My husband publicly removed her shoes and carefully massaged her foot. Everyone looked away uncomfortably, casting sympathetic glances at me. I slowly stood up and announced on the spot that the company was getting a new CEO. The intern shot to her feet and cursed at me: “Old hag, you have no authority to remove Daddy from his position!” I smiled and looked at Nathan. “Why don’t you tell her—do I have the authority or not?” At the company’s year-end gala, the host was reading out the third-prize winners onstage. “Lena.” Lena stood up with a cheer. Her low-cut dress slipped down another two inches. Every eye in the room glued itself to her. Or rather, to her nearly exposed chest. “Oh no!” A delicate cry. Timed to perfection. She tilted to the right, catching herself with one hand on the ground. Her eyes instantly misted over. “Daddy, I twisted my ankle in these heels! It hurts so much!” The entire ballroom fell silent. Nathan rose from the main table and jogged up to the stage. He crouched in front of Lena, carefully cradling her foot. “How could you be so careless?” Lena bit her lower lip, her eyes growing even redder. “Daddy, it really hurts…” Nathan skillfully removed her high heel, wrapping his palm around her foot and gently massaging her ankle. His movements were too natural. Clearly not the first time. I remembered last month when my migraine flared up and I asked him to massage my temples. He’d frowned and said, “My wrist is sore. You should see a physical therapist instead.” The contrast was glaring. Now he looked up at her, his eyes full of concern. “Bear with it. Daddy will rub it and make it feel better.” He lowered his head and blew gently on the reddened skin. The entire room was dead silent. I could feel the eyes from several tables behind me—curious, sympathetic, gleeful. Ruth, the CFO sitting beside me, cleared her throat softly, about to say something, but I raised my hand to stop her. On stage, Lena’s gaze traveled over Nathan’s head and locked precisely onto me. Her lips curved into a smile, though her voice grew even softer. “Don’t worry about it, Daddy’s just used to doing this.” She even reached out and ruffled Nathan’s hair. The gesture was intimate, possessive, and provocative. The champagne glass in my hand trembled slightly. I’d been away from the company for a year to have our second child. I hadn’t expected things to get this interesting during that time. Lena had only joined the company six months ago. I’d heard some rumors. She liked calling Nathan “Daddy.” She’d worn his jacket and drunk from his cup. “Daddy, I got my period. Buy me some pads.” “Daddy, I can’t fasten my bra. Help me.” “Daddy, why aren’t you wearing my hair tie on your wrist? As punishment, you have to wear two—pink ones, okay?” All of this had been reported to me by my trusted confidants. I’d confronted Nathan about it. He just waved it off. “Young girls play around. Once the novelty wears off, she’ll stop.” “If there was really something between us, would I let the whole company know?” I thought about it and agreed. Anyone with half a brain certainly wouldn’t be so obvious. But I never expected them to act this way in front of all the employees at the company gala. It seemed that after becoming CEO, Nathan had lost his mind. He thought that with me tied down by our second child, he could hold his head high as the master of STAR Tech. I slowly stood up and clapped three times. The sound was crisp. Everyone turned to look at me. Nathan’s hand froze. He whipped his head around, panic flashing across his face. Only now did he realize this wasn’t just within the company. I was present. And I didn’t tolerate any nonsense. Lena, however, smiled even more sweetly, as if she’d been waiting for this moment all along. “While Nathan’s concern for his employees is touching, let’s not disrupt the gala proceedings.” I looked at the host. “Continue.” The host immediately nodded. “Now, we’ll draw the second-prize winners.” Lena continued her coquettish act. “Daddy, my foot still hurts. Can you carry me down?” Nathan lowered his voice, a trace of embarrassment on his face. “Lena, stop it…” I didn’t watch the rest of the prize drawing. I stood up and headed to the restroom. I needed to think. Should I tear into them right here, or wait until after the gala? Suddenly, my phone rang. It was the nanny from home. “Ma’am, Christie wants to video chat with you.” My daughter took the nanny’s phone and gave me a sweet smile. “Mommy, when are you and Daddy coming home? Lucas is already asleep.” My daughter was only five. Her innocent question eased some of the bitterness in my heart. “We’ll be a while longer. Be good and go to sleep first.” “Okay, Mommy. Love you.” Just as I hung up, the door was pushed open.

When Lena walked in, her steps were steady. “Looks like you’re better suited to staying home.” Her lips curled up provocatively. “With me and Daddy at the company, that’s all we need.” I looked up, really looking at her for the first time. She was indeed young and beautiful with a great figure. Combined with her coquettish voice and manner, she was certainly attractive. But heaven was fair. It gave her beauty but not brains. I smiled faintly. “You know Nathan has a daughter, right? She’s only five this year. You’re twenty-two—aren’t you embarrassed to call him Daddy?” Lena covered her mouth and laughed. “You just don’t get it. He likes when I call him that. It’s called… spice.” She looked me up and down. “I heard you’re thirty-five? You look more like forty-five.” She winked at me. “Especially these lines around your eyes. Tsk, time for some injections.” I didn’t respond, just looked at myself in the mirror. Even with tonight’s heavier makeup, I looked bright and attractive. It wasn’t her place to criticize. When Lena saw I wasn’t getting angry, she moved closer and lowered her voice. “Daddy told me last night that you’re like a dead fish in bed. He said in seven years of marriage, every time with you feels like completing a chore.” My fingers tightened as I glared at her. She was trying to provoke me. “Hey, don’t get angry.” Lena’s eyes curved into crescents as she smiled. “Men all prefer young, energetic women.” She pulled a bottle of perfume from her bag and sprayed it on herself. “This is our custom-made intimate perfume. You must have smelled it when he came home, right?” I frowned slightly. I had smelled it many times. I’m allergic to perfume, so I didn’t like that scent. Lena smiled. “My advice? Stay home like a good girl and don’t mess around at the company.” “Otherwise, you and your kids will be kicked out sooner or later!” Kick me out? Interesting. I wondered what Nathan had told her to give her such blind confidence. I glanced at her, my eyes meaningful. “Does Nathan know you’re being so frank with me?” Lena smiled smugly. “What does it matter?” “In front of the whole company, he doted on me. Even if I didn’t say anything, couldn’t you see it yourself?” I nodded slightly. “So you did that on purpose earlier?” “Obviously.” Her expression suddenly changed. “Old hag, you can’t compete with me.” She pulled something from her bag and tossed it casually onto the counter. It was a condom wrapper, crumpled. “Used it in Daddy’s office last night.” She said carelessly, “Forgot to dispose of it. You don’t mind, do you?” My breathing stopped for a moment. She kept provoking me again and again. She must be prepared. Waiting for me to tear into her. Waiting for me to make a scene. Fine. I could satisfy her. I raised my hand. Just then, the restroom door burst open. Leicester, the sales director, rushed in with an ashen face. She didn’t even look at Lena, just grabbed my arm. “Emergency!” She pulled me out of the restroom. Lena laughed softly behind us. “Take care.”

Leicester dragged me into the stairwell before releasing my arm, breathing heavily. She pulled out her phone from her pocket. “You need to see this.” On the screen was a chat log from a group called “Company Drama Watch.” I recognized this group. Three months ago, IT had reported it. “Employees created an anonymous gossip group. Should we deal with it?” I’d said at the time, “As long as it doesn’t affect work, let them be.” Now, this group was live-streaming a spectacle. The latest message was from twenty minutes ago. “OMG! Lena just called Nathan ‘Daddy’ on stage, and he actually went up to massage her foot!” “I knew something was going on between them.” “That cup on Lena’s desk is identical to Nathan’s—matching couple’s set.” Leicester scrolled the screen. “Look up.” I scrolled up. A message from three days ago. “I secretly photographed Lena wearing Nathan’s shirt!” The photo was blurry, but you could clearly see Lena wearing Nathan’s white shirt with nothing underneath. Comments followed below. “Wow, what a body!” “I heard the sounds—she was so loud, like she thought no one else was working late.” “Poor Ruby at home having babies while getting cheated on.” A message from seven days ago. “I screenshotted Lena’s Instagram story. Check this out.” In the screenshot, two hands were intertwined, the man’s hand wearing a Patek Philippe. That was my gift to Nathan for his fortieth birthday. The woman’s hand was slender with nude pink nail polish, a pink hair tie around her wrist. Caption: Celebrating day 99 with Daddy. There were more disgusting conversations in the screenshots. I didn’t want to keep reading. But Leicester scrolled down further to the latest messages. From five minutes ago. “Look! Lena chased Ruby into the bathroom!” “What’s that bitch trying to do?” “What else? Show off. I heard Nathan promised to marry her.” “Marry her? Doesn’t Nathan have a wife?” “New here? Everyone knows Nathan got his position through his wife. Now he’s got wings and wants to fly away.” “What did Lena say in the bathroom? Did anyone hear?” “Couldn’t hear clearly, but definitely nothing good. That woman shouts ‘Daddy’ in the office every day. So disgusting.” “Once Daddy divorces Ruby, I’ll be the boss’s wife! Lena said this herself outside the bathroom door ten minutes ago. I recorded it.” Leicester clicked on the audio file. Lena’s voice came through the phone, dripping with satisfaction. “That old hag wore that black dress today, looking like an unlucky crow. Daddy said she’s gotten more and more boring lately. After the divorce, the company will be mine. Then you’ll all have to call me the boss’s wife…” The audio cut off abruptly. Leicester looked at me, her eyes filled with both anger and concern. “Ruby, this…” I closed my eyes. Three seconds. Deep breath. When I opened them again, all emotion had been suppressed. “Give me your phone.” Leicester handed over her phone. I quickly operated it, forwarding all those screenshots and recordings to my social media. Then I made three phone calls.

The first call was to the Legal Director. “I need all of Nathan’s personal account transactions from the past year, plus financial records for all projects under his name. I need them now.” The second call was to my assistant. “Prepare a document immediately—STAR Tech CEO change announcement. Also, notify IT to take control of the gala’s main screen. I’ll text you the authorization code.” The third call was to the head of security. “Bring four people to the main hall and stand by. Wait for my signal.” After hanging up, I looked at Leicester. “Thank you for today.” Leicester shook her head. “Ruby, I’ve worked with you for ten years. Nathan… he’s gone too far.” “I know.” I straightened my dress and did one final check in the mirror. Lipstick intact, eyeliner unsmudged, hair perfectly in place. The woman in the mirror was thirty-five, with fine lines around her eyes, but a sharp gaze. Nathan. Lena. You want to put on a show? Fine. I’ll perform with you. When I walked back into the ballroom, the atmosphere had clearly changed. Everyone was looking at me with complex expressions. The prize drawing on stage had already ended hastily. Soon it would be time for the closing remarks. In previous years, Nathan had given the speech. He and Lena had already returned to the main table. Lena was leaning on his shoulder, whispering something. Nathan was absentmindedly patting her back, occasionally glancing at me. Seeing me return, he immediately stood up. “Ruby, earlier Lena…” “It’s fine.” I smiled, walking past him without stopping. “She’s just a young girl. Doesn’t know better.” Lena looked up, a flash of surprise in her eyes. She probably expected me to explode. But I didn’t. I walked straight to the podium and took the microphone from the host. “Everyone, I’ll handle tonight’s closing remarks.” The entire room watched me quietly. Nathan frowned. “Ruby…” There was a trace of worry in his eyes. My behavior was too abnormal. Lena’s lips, however, curved into a triumphant sneer. [Finally can’t hold it in anymore?] [Make a scene.] [The wealthy care most about dignity.] [The bigger the scene, the faster I rise.] I nodded toward the control room. The main screen’s prize drawing page instantly went black, then lit up again. When the first PowerPoint slide appeared, Nathan’s expression changed. Lena also jumped to her feet. “Host, turn off that screen right now!”

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At my twenty-fourth birthday party, I simply offered Marta—the impoverished student my fiancé Andre had been sponsoring—a glass of wine, and she miscarried. That day, I discovered they’d been having an affair all along. I insisted on breaking off the engagement. Andre knelt before me, begging for forgiveness. Under our parents’ mediation, considering the five billion dollar partnership between our families, I compromised. But unexpectedly, three days after the wedding, he got into a car accident that supposedly caused sexual dysfunction. To save his dignity, I had to lie to everyone that I was childfree by choice, claiming I didn’t want children. Four years later, on an international reality show, I saw Andre playing games with a little boy. It turned out Andre had secretly had a child with Marta long ago. For four years, he’d been lying about his sexual dysfunction all along. In that case, this arranged marriage partner could get lost. I burst into his office intending to confront him, only to accidentally overhear him talking with a friend. “To punish her for that one glass of wine she gave Marta, you actually faked a car accident and didn’t touch her for four years. That’s really something.” Andre lounged lazily in his executive chair, sneering coldly, “Who told her to cause Marta’s miscarriage back then? This is her lesson.” “Eventually when Marta’s son grows up, I’m considering bringing him back and having him acknowledge her as his mother. She’ll get a free son that way—she should be satisfied with that.” The conversation inside continued, “Andre, actually Kingsley’s been pretty good to you. A pampered princess, searching everywhere for famous doctors on your behalf.” “Isn’t treating her this way a bit harsh?” Andre’s mocking laughter rang out, “This is the price she pays for hurting Marta.” “So what if she’s a rich heiress? Does that mean she can bully Marta? I’m just making her taste the bitterness others have suffered, so she won’t spend her whole life bullying people.” His friend sighed, “Andre, aren’t you afraid she’ll find out the truth and make a huge scene about divorcing you?” Andre’s gaze immediately sharpened, “You didn’t soften up and tell her, did you?” His friend shook his head, helplessly lowering his head to sip his tea. Andre’s cold voice continued, “I promised Marta I’d never touch Kingsley for the rest of my life, and that Marta’s child would be my only heir. I can’t disappoint her.” Andre’s tone was full of warning, terrified of leaking even a bit of information, worried his scheme would fail and make his dear Marta sad and upset. I couldn’t help thinking of those humiliating nights, when I’d actively climb on top of him, imitating methods from porn videos to stimulate him. What an effort it must have been for him—face flushed red, holding it in, forcibly suppressing his desire. I stood there humiliated, listening to the conversation inside, my heart pierced by thousands of icy swords. I wiped away my tears, turned and left, canceling the appointment I’d made for Andre with a British specialist. The other end still asked in confusion what happened.

That evening when Andre came home, I almost couldn’t control myself from rushing over to tear him apart. I wanted to demand why he’d deceived me like this. Was it really all because I gave Marta a glass of fruit wine? For four whole years, the torment I endured—from grief to worry, even preparing myself to spend a lifetime in celibacy with him—but in the end it was all just a joke. I watched Andre walk calmly into the living room, pull me into his embrace, then kiss my forehead, “Kingsley, tonight you can try those new techniques you learned. Who knows, maybe they’ll work.” I stared hard at Andre, wanting to see if there was even a trace of guilt or anxiety on his face. Finally I bit down hard and nodded, “Alright!” That night, Andre washed up and lay naked on the bed, while I put on lingerie at his request. He raised an eyebrow, signaling me to get on top. I laughed coldly, carefully studying his expression. Following his line of sight, I finally discovered something suspicious. On the huge wedding photo opposite the bed, there was a faint gleam of light at his eyes. I instantly understood why he’d been willing to try countless times. Before I could react, Andre grabbed me and pushed me down. Thinking about the unknown person behind that miniature camera, I couldn’t help feeling a wave of nausea, and with a “blech” I vomited, spraying it all over Andre. Andre immediately frowned in disgust and shoved me away, jumping off the bed. “Kingsley, if you find me repulsive just say so. No need to disgust me like this.” “Starting today, you sleep in the guest room. No need to force yourself anymore.” If this were any other time, I would have patiently coaxed him, then once again willingly tried, enduring the humiliation of serving him. But this time, I just silently stood up, looked at him coldly, said “Fine,” and turned to leave. Andre froze, then with a crash, a teacup smashed to the floor, “Kingsley, I knew your feelings for me weren’t genuine. It’s only been four years and you already find me disgusting, don’t you?” My figure paused. I turned back and looked at him with self-mockery, “Andre, don’t you find this disgusting?” Andre looked at the seemingly knowing expression on my face and couldn’t help freezing. All his angry rebukes instantly stuck on his face, his eyes guiltily avoiding mine, “Kingsley, what are you talking about? We’re a loving married couple—what’s disgusting about that?” I slammed the door shut with a bang, not wanting to look at him for another second. That once cool and noble bearing now seemed nothing but sleazy and shameless. The next day, while he was at work, I decisively hired a private investigator. When the private investigator placed the investigated information and videos before me, I instantly collapsed into my chair. At that moment, I wanted to take a knife and chop him to pieces. Andre, how could you be so deceitful? Aren’t you afraid of going to hell? Since that’s the case, the evil you’ve committed, I will certainly repay double.

I holed up at home for three whole days, unable to face those videos. Even more afraid to imagine how many people had watched them. When Andre came home, he found me sitting by the window, drunk. He walked over and held me in his arms with a sigh, “Kingsley, I’m sorry. Did someone spread rumors again? If you can’t take it anymore, let’s just get divorced.” He looked so pained, so devoted. I calmly pushed him away, staring hard into his eyes, wanting to see even a fraction of genuine pain, wanting to see if all my efforts over these years had been worth even a little. “Andre, I didn’t do anything wrong. Why are you treating me this way?” Andre’s whole body froze, then his eyes reddened with grievance, “Kingsley, I can understand if you find me disgusting, but I really don’t want to leave you.” With that, he hugged me and started crying. At that moment, I seemed to see the Andre from ten years ago. Back then, he’d follow me around all day calling me baby, delivering the finest pastries to my hands. He’d even carry me on his back all the way up the mountain when we went hiking. Under the brilliant starlight, the young man’s eyes shone brighter than the stars as he gripped my hand tightly, “Kingsley, I never want to leave you in this lifetime. Let’s be together forever, okay?” Back then, I thought we’d have a forever future. Until Andre and I went traveling in the mountains and encountered fourteen-year-old Marta. She was being pressed to the ground by several men and lifted onto a three-wheeled cart. She knelt on the ground struggling desperately, pleading, “Dad, please don’t give me to someone else. I can chop firewood in the mountains, work the fields—I can earn money.” Tears mixed with dust smeared across her dark face, her hair tangled in a disheveled mess on her head. From the surrounding people’s discussions, I learned that her father wanted to sell her to a fifty-year-old man for money to build a house. I immediately felt compassion, rebuked those people, and protected her. Finally, after an argument, Andre gave all our travel money to Marta’s father, saved her, and promised to sponsor her education going forward. Who knew that after graduating from college, Marta would seek out Andre directly and stay by his side as his assistant. She played the victim at every turn, acting meek and timid in front of me, as if I’d bullied her. Andre told me more than once that Marta was timid, that I shouldn’t be too forceful when talking to her, to be more gentle. I thought she was just naturally unable to handle social situations. I never expected she was deliberately digging traps for me. Until my birthday that day, when I kindly handed her a glass of fruit wine, “Marta, let me introduce you to some friends. Play with them from now on.” Unexpectedly, after just two sips, she clutched her stomach and accused me of forcing her to drink, deliberately harming her. She cried hysterically, collapsed in Andre’s arms clutching her stomach. That day, Andre looked at me with eyes like poisoned arrows. In the end he said nothing, just rushed to the hospital carrying Marta. That day I was furious too, had a huge fight with Andre, demanding to break off the engagement. Finally, after his pleading and both sets of parents’ mediation, I naively thought the matter would just pass. But I never expected that the seed of resentment had already been planted. Andre became convinced I’d deliberately killed the child, and began using a lifetime to punish me. I coldly raised my hand to touch his head, laughing mockingly, “Andre, if I made you choose between me and Marta, who would you be unable to bear leaving?” Panic immediately flashed through Andre’s eyes, “Kingsley, why bring her up out of nowhere? Did someone tell you something?” “I haven’t been in contact with her for ages. Don’t overthink it.” I lowered my eyes to wipe away tears, rising indifferently, “Nobody said anything.” “I’m just feeling sentimental. If I hadn’t given Marta that glass of fruit wine back then, perhaps your child would be four years old by now.” Andre’s expression grew visibly tense, his spine stiffening involuntarily as he blurted out, “Kingsley, how could I possibly have a child with another woman?” I laughed mockingly, supporting myself as I slowly walked toward the bedroom, clutching the message Marta had just sent me, “Kingsley, you know what Andre says about you? That high and mighty woman isn’t even as good as a whore.” “Oh, and to prove his devotion to me, Andre specifically video-called me every time you stripped naked to seduce him. I figured I shouldn’t let it go to waste, so I did a live stream. Over a million fans watched—everyone praised how slutty you are.” Andre, if you betray me, I will never let it rest. I’ll make you face retribution.

I silently deleted all the messages, neither confronting him nor shouting. Because I knew that if shouting could solve problems, the rulers of this world wouldn’t be tigers—they’d be donkeys. Our families’ five-year project was successfully completed. I specially chose Blueberry Manor, inviting all relatives, friends, and business partners to celebrate together. That day, I specifically prepared a big gift for Andre. He even asked teasingly what I’d prepared. Was it a set of lingerie, or had I learned some new tricks? I just smiled and told him it would be something he’d never forget for the rest of his life. The crystal chandelier at the partnership celebration banquet illuminated the entire venue filled with clinking glasses. Andre took my hand as we walked onto the stage. As fireworks burst above our heads, they represented the successful partnership between our families. I smiled and accepted the contract, securing the benefits that belonged to my family. As applause thundered, I took the microphone, my gaze sweeping across the entire venue, “Distinguished guests, dear friends and family, today marks not only the successful conclusion of our two families’ partnership, but also the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Andre.” “Today, I have a grand gift to present to him, for everyone to witness Andre’s five years of devotion to me.” As the applause died down, several bodyguards carried in two large boxes, decorated with beautiful silk butterfly bows on top. I smiled lightly and pushed Andre toward the boxes, using my eyes to signal him to open them. The entire venue instantly fell silent, everyone craning their necks, curiously watching these large boxes, wondering what precious gift I would give. Andre affectionately pinched my cheek, then reached out to flip open the lock, lifting the lid with a snap. Under his shocked gaze, a woman slowly stood up from inside the box. The moment she looked up and saw Andre in front of her, she burst into tears with a wail and threw herself into his arms, “Honey, you scared me to death! Didn’t you tell me to bring our son back to attend the celebration?” “Right after getting off the plane, I was stuffed into a box. You’re so mean, you can’t scare people like this.” With that, she broke into a smile through her tears and wrapped her arms around Andre’s neck. The entire venue fell deathly silent for three seconds, then suddenly erupted into chaos, “What’s going on? Why is this woman calling Andre honey?” “And she brought a son? Isn’t Andre supposed to be infertile?” Andre’s face changed dramatically. He immediately spun around and threw open the other box. His son was inside, eyes tightly closed, sleeping soundly. Andre’s alarm intensified. He rushed over, scooped the child out, and shouted loudly. But the little one just let his head droop on his shoulder, completely motionless. Andre panicked. After patting him a few times, he turned his gaze toward me, “Kingsley, what did you do to Osman?” I walked forward with a cold laugh, my eyes sharp as I stared at him, “Andre, why are you so nervous? Could this possibly be your son?” “Oh right, I forgot—Andre was injured in a car accident and shouldn’t be able to father such a cute child.” As I spoke, my manicured nail lightly traced across the child’s cheek, leaving a red mark. Andre froze. Without even a second’s contemplation, he forced a smile onto his panicked face, “Kingsley, don’t misunderstand. This child… this child…” In his haste, even someone as shrewd as Andre couldn’t find a suitable explanation. Suddenly, as if he’d thought of something, he immediately held the child out toward me, “Kingsley, this is Marta’s little nephew. Marta knew we couldn’t have children, so to repay our kindness, she specially gave us her nephew to raise as our son.” As he spoke, his voice steadied, excited to have found such a good excuse. “Kingsley, look how adorable this child is. Haven’t you always wanted a child? Good people are rewarded—Marta is grateful for our sponsorship and really gave us a child.” Seeing the child in my hands, Marta couldn’t help but panic. Just as she was about to rush over, Andre grabbed her arm and glared her back. I methodically stroked the child’s soft hair, my sharp nails scraping across his tender cheeks one stroke at a time, leaving white marks. Watching Marta’s eyes redden with anxiety, tears welling up, and appreciating Andre nervously swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing continuously. Suddenly I grabbed the child’s neck, hissing a harsh rebuke, “Marta, you’ve already miscarried one son. Do you want this son to die in my hands too?” Marta cried out in alarm, a shrill scream echoing through the hall, “Kingsley, that’s Andre’s son! You can’t hurt him!”

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After half an hour of sex, Torres handed me a birth control pill, as usual. “Take it now. Don’t cause me any trouble.” I took it and swallowed it skillfully. “This is the 150th time. You promised that after I took 150 pills, you’d marry me.” He looked surprised, then seemed to remember something. He lifted my chin with his fingertip. His tone was frivolous. “Vivian, how can you take pillow talk seriously? Anna’s coming back from abroad today. Pack your things and move out. I don’t want her to see any trace of you.” After he left, I sat on the edge of the bed in silence for a long time. Finally, I set his villa on fire. Didn’t he want to erase all traces of me? Then I’d make it completely clean. Three years ago, Torres offered Anna 1.5 million dollars in cash to make her stay, but she rejected him firmly. “Get lost! Who wants your dirty money?” She turned and ran. I took the initiative to approach him. “That money… can you give it to me? I look seventy percent like her. You can think of me as her.” He looked down at me, a playful smile appearing on his face. “Sure.” That night, I slept with him. Afterwards, he handed me a birth control pill from the drawer. “Take it. After you take 150 of these, I’ll marry you.” I didn’t take his words to heart. I took the 1.5 million that Anna didn’t want and went to the hospital to pay my mom’s medical bills. My anxious heart found a lifeline, and I felt slightly at ease. Anna was my half-sister, not much younger than me. To be precise, her mother was the mistress. My mom couldn’t bear my dad’s betrayal and ended the marriage with her own hands. I was only eight years old then, and I took my mother’s surname. Three years ago, my mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The exorbitant medical costs forced me to beg my dad for help. He refused. “I have money, but I don’t owe her anything.” Then he turned around and publicly bid twenty million dollars for an agate necklace for his mistress-turned-wife. Twenty million—enough to save my mom hundreds of times over… When I was desperate, Anna and Torres happened to have a fight. In her anger, she went abroad and cut off contact with him. I seized the opportunity to take her place and secure a lifeline for my mom. That evening, I woke up in the hospital. The TV was broadcasting news about Torres going to the airport to pick up his first love, Anna. The nurse changing my IV smiled and said to me, “The CEO of TR Group is quite devoted. Three years have passed, and he still can’t forget his first love!” I didn’t respond. My heart felt like it had been stabbed with a blade. The pain spread from my chest outward. Initially, I got together with Torres only for his money. I couldn’t say I had any feelings for him. The first time my heart fluttered was when he prepared a birthday party for me. From age one to twenty-two, he had prepared every year’s birthday gift for me. “Vivian, all the birthday presents you never received in the past, I’m making up for them all at once.” Since I could remember, my parents had been locked in endless arguments, tearing our family apart. I’d never had a proper birthday, let alone birthday gifts. The second time my heart fluttered was when I had a high fever of 103.1°F. Torres put down a twenty-million-dollar deal and flew over ten hours on his private jet from abroad to be by my side. “I don’t trust them to take care of you.” He barely slept for three days and nights. Only after my fever broke did he collapse beside my bed and fall into a deep sleep. The last time I fell for him was when I’d fallen asleep exhausted. He helped my mom to the bathroom. Torres showed no disgust and was extremely patient. “Ma’am, Vivian is my girlfriend. It’s only right that I take care of you.” I thought Torres loved me too. Over the years, we became more and more compatible in bed. He no longer mentioned Anna in his sleep but whispered my name instead—Vivian. I thought I’d won, but I ended up losing completely.

Torres called me. He said casually, “Vivian, I told you to take all your stuff away. What do you mean by burning down my villa? Is this because you’re jealous?” He had countless villas, so naturally he wouldn’t care about that one. I remained silent. “Tonight is Anna’s welcome party. She said she wants to see you walk in a fashion show. I’ve already sent a driver to pick you up. Get changed and come over right away.” Just as I was about to refuse, he hung up. The driver arrived at my hospital room door just in time. “These are the clothes Torres prepared for you. Please come with me.” In his hands was the latest model of bikini. I froze. I remembered three years ago—to scrape together money for my mom’s treatment, I worked part-time as a car model and bikini brand model. What’s more, some bosses would specifically request me for photo shoots. For a few measly dollars, I had to endure their contemptuous and greedy gazes. That lasted until I accepted Torres’s help. “From now on, you belong to me. Don’t go showing yourself off or doing any more modeling.” Now, just because of one sentence from Anna, he’d shattered the illusion of his love for me that I’d held for years… I was about to refuse when I received a message from Torres: [Only my friend can perform your mother’s surgery. If you don’t want her to have an accident, behave and do as you’re told.] At the party, I wore the newest bikini in the freezing cold weather, shivering all over, my hands and feet stiff. Below the stage, Torres had his arm around Anna, playfully tapping her nose, looking at me like I was a pet. “Does it look good?” She showed a satisfied smile. “It looks great.” Torres’s friends also cast greedy glances at me, joking, “We really have Anna to thank for the chance to see Vivian like this!” “Exactly! Torres has been protecting her so tightly. If we looked at her twice, his expression alone would eat us alive!” Torres laughed carelessly. “When did that happen? Vivian and I are just friends. The only person I’ve ever loved is Anna.” He pulled her closer into his embrace. Anna scoffed too. “My sister still doesn’t have a boyfriend! If you guys like her, go ahead and pursue her!” A barely noticeable flash of discomfort crossed Torres’s face, but it vanished instantly. He also laughed along. “Right, if you like her, go pursue her.” I ran a fever for three days and nights. My consciousness drifted in and out. I grabbed my phone and weakly called Torres. “Hello? *cough cough* Can you take me to the hospital?” His impatient voice came through. “Vivian, what tricks are you playing now? Such a hassle.” “What’s wrong, Torres?” Anna asked from the other end. Torres replied casually, “Nothing. Spam call. Keep picking out dresses. Your solo dance performance is coming up soon. Don’t get distracted.” He hung up, and I passed out. I don’t know how long passed before someone gently picked me up, murmuring, “What’s going on? Can’t live without me?” “To the hospital.” Torres instructed. The driver laughed. “Torres, you still can’t let go of Vivian, can you? You seem pretty anxious to me.” Torres’s sharp brows furrowed. “Don’t talk nonsense. Anna said she wants to move into this house. I came ahead to arrange for someone to clean it. I was worried about dust, and I didn’t expect Vivian to be here too. Now not only do we need to clean thoroughly, but we also need to deep clean everything from inside out and throw away everything that should be thrown away. I’m worried Anna might be a germaphobe.” I opened my eyes slightly and watched him, his expression cold, chin resting on his hand, lost in thought as he looked out the window. I found it hard to reconcile him with the Torres from before. He seemed to see through my thoughts and said in a low voice, “Are you wondering why I’m different from before?” He sneered. “Ha, don’t forget—you’re the one who told me to treat you as Anna. I’m just doing what you asked.” “I didn’t expect you’d fall so deep yourself and trap yourself.” My pupils constricted. Those initial words became a bullet, piercing through my forehead…

During my hospital stay, my condition worsened and showed no signs of improvement. The day I was diagnosed with liver cancer, the doctor’s expression was grave. “Don’t you know the consequences of taking birth control pills?” I lowered my eyes without speaking. Of course I knew. But I was gambling—gambling on Torres’s sincerity. Unfortunately, I lost the bet. He never loved me, not even for a second. The first person to learn about my liver cancer was my best college roommate, Wesley. She came to my hospital room, her face paler than mine, her voice trembling, with a heavy nasal tone. “Vivian, you deserve this!” I had no emotional reaction. She was right. I was the one who ignored everyone’s warnings and stubbornly gambled with so-called love for sincerity. “I’m sorry…” Her tears fell in streams, sliding down her face and dripping onto the floor. “You used to be selfish and unscrupulous for money. How did one Torres turn you into this?!” “Does he know you have this disease?” I shook my head. Wesley bit her lip, her nose also turning sour. “No way. I’m going to settle accounts with him! What kind of man is he?!” I used my last bit of strength to grasp her wrist and begged her, “Don’t go! Only his friend can cure my mom’s illness…” She looked at me with disappointment and let out a heavy sigh. A few days later, Torres called me for the first time since I was hospitalized. “Vivian, don’t you have a friend named Wesley who works at the Dance Association?” I hummed in acknowledgment. Relief came through the phone. “That’s good. Ask your friend to pull some strings and get Anna into the Dance Association.” His commanding tone—I was used to it. Wesley beside me cursed, “Torres, what the hell are you?! Do you know Vivian is dy—” Before the word “dying” could leave her mouth, I hung up the phone. “What are you doing?! Vivian!” I sniffled. “Help me this one last time. He’s given me so much. I don’t want to owe him any favors.” She pressed her lips together, which meant she agreed. I didn’t want to waste my final days in the hospital, so I rented a place and grew some flowers and plants. For Torres to find my new address was just a matter of words, so when he knocked on my door, I wasn’t surprised. As soon as he entered, he picked me up and pressed me against the shoe cabinet. His wet kisses fell on my neck. I struggled desperately, but he held me tighter. When he tired of kissing, he released me and frowned slightly. “You’ve lost weight, Vivian.” I pulled a wet wipe from the shoe cabinet and gently wiped away where he’d kissed. A flash of displeasure crossed his brow, but in the end he said nothing. “What do you want? Where’s Anna?” I asked him. Torres walked toward the inner room like he was entering his own home, saying casually, “She’s on her period these past few days. I can’t hold back.” “What do you have to eat? Make me something. I’m starving.” I’d never refused him. From the moment he gave me money, I’d served him like a deity, whether in bed or in daily life. But I was too tired now. I felt exhausted even doing nothing. “There’s nothing to eat. This isn’t a restaurant.” Torres looked at me in surprise and scoffed. “So you’re throwing a tantrum now?” I said calmly, “I’m not throwing a tantrum.” “Fine, but your mother’s surgery…” “I’ll do it.” I interrupted him and walked to the kitchen. A few minutes later, a bowl of steaming seafood noodles sat on the table. Torres was satisfied. “So you can cook. How pretentious.” A full belly breeds lust. After eating, he pulled me into his arms and buried his head in my neck. “Sleep with me a few more times, okay?” I felt nauseated. “Ugh!” Then I actually vomited. Torres just felt his mood was ruined. He frowned. “Unlucky. Forget it.” He grabbed his coat and slammed the door on his way out.

On the day of my mother’s surgery, the hospital issued a critical condition notice. When I received the call, my mind went blank. When I rushed to the hospital, I learned that the doctor performing my mom’s surgery had been intercepted halfway by Anna and turned around to treat her mother instead, causing my mom to miss her surgery window. I called Torres and demanded to know why things had gone wrong. He actually said, “Your mom is just like you—a mistress. She deserves to die.” “I’m in Anna’s mother’s hospital room right now. Anna is unfortunate to have a sister like you. Back then, your mom insisted on marrying your dad and interfering with his relationship with her mom. It’s only fitting that she’s ended up like this.” I begged him humbly, “Torres, for the sake of the years we’ve been together, please send the doctor over quickly… My mom really can’t wait any longer…” He sneered and hung up. The only light in my life went out. The remaining doctors were doing their best to save my mom, but they still came out every few minutes to tell me. “The situation isn’t optimistic…” Four hours later, the operating room lights finally went out. My mom was wheeled out, a white cloth covering her face, peaceful as still water. Just then, the phone rang. It was Anna. She said mockingly, “Vivian, your mom died, didn’t she? You and your mom are equally despicable. For money, you rush to seduce men. You deserve this ending.” “Remember, from now on, don’t covet things that don’t belong to you.” The call ended, and the last string in my heart snapped. She didn’t know yet that I had evidence of her betraying Torres years ago and getting pregnant with someone else’s child. With a cold face, I sent all the videos, pictures, and other materials to Torres. Torres had severe mental cleanliness issues. When he received the information, his fingertips trembled. Anna wrapped her arms around his waist, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Torres, thank you for saving my mom.” When she met his sinister eyes, an ominous premonition surged in her heart. “What… what’s wrong, Torres?” Torres turned his phone around, his face dark. “You’d better explain to me clearly whose child this is.” Anna looked puzzled and focused her eyes. Her face instantly turned pale. Due to extreme fear, her speech became incoherent. “Torres, let me explain…” He pushed her away and grabbed her wrist. The force was so strong that she screamed in pain. Torres’s voice was frighteningly cold. “I’m asking you, whose child is it?” Anna knew that even if she covered it up, Torres would use every means to find out the truth. She simply came clean. “Your friend, Carter’s.” When the name Carter came out, Torres exploded with rage. He slapped Anna hard across the face. “Do you know? Back then, he almost caused our family to go bankrupt…” The past unfolded like a scroll before Torres’s eyes. Anna frantically threw everything within reach at Torres. “Heartless bastard! I called you so many times. Why didn’t you answer?!” He gripped her hands tightly and said helplessly, “I’ve told you countless times, I was in a meeting, a very important meeting. Why do you call over and over again to disturb me?!” Anna continued to be unreasonable. “Haha, so you used to answer my calls no matter what, but now you can’t? Once you’ve got what you want, you don’t treasure it anymore, is that it? Fine, I’m leaving.” He didn’t notice that Anna took his company’s USB drive. No wonder their product information appeared in Carter’s company’s presentation a few days later. He’d humbled himself to keep her, given her money, even knelt before her, but still couldn’t win her back. She’d betrayed him all along…

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I’m very rich. My dad always says there’s no problem in this world that money can’t solve. And if there is, it just means you don’t have enough of it. But my boyfriend Damien Hayes is an exception. When I pick him up in my sports car, he complains I’m too flashy. When I take him to Michelin-starred restaurants, he says I’m wasteful. To “toughen me up,” he forces me to live like an ordinary student. For three years, I’ve worn thrift store clothes, squeezed onto subways with him, and eaten the cheapest meals on campus—only to face his endless criticism anyway. This time, to celebrate his scholarship award, I secretly booked a slightly nicer restaurant. I never expected him to publicly scold me for being “incorrigible.” When he threatens to break up with me yet again, demanding I apologize for the sake of his ridiculous pride, I’m exhausted. “Then let’s break up!” I say decisively. Hearing my response, Damien pauses mid-slice through his steak, then lets out a contemptuous laugh. “Vivian, are you serious?” He clearly doesn’t take my words seriously. After all, for three years, whenever we’ve disagreed over spending, it’s always ended with me compromising. I’ve cried while returning limited edition bags I just bought, sworn never to eat a meal costing over two hundred dollars again—all just to get him to take back that cold, dismissive “let’s break up.” But this time, I’m truly done. A while back, when the class president hinted that I’d be receiving financial aid for underprivileged students and told me not to worry, I suddenly realized what a joke I’d become. The heiress of the Hayes Group, reduced to dust for Damien’s sake. I lift my head and look him straight in the eye, repeating myself. “Damien, I’m serious. We’re breaking up.” A rare flash of confusion crosses Damien’s face. When he realizes what I’ve said, his voice turns ice-cold. “Because I won’t let you waste money? Because I criticized you a few times, you’re going to make a scene?” “Vivian, I made you take the subway and eat street food to cure you of your spoiled, privileged attitude—to teach you to be down-to-earth. Your attitude right now is extremely disappointing.” If this were before, hearing the word “disappointing” would have sent me into a panic. But now I just find it laughable. “Yes, I’m quite disappointing. Since that’s the case, let’s part on good terms. You can find a girlfriend who suits you better—everyone wins.” I think I’m being perfectly reasonable. Since our values don’t align, we might as well separate amicably. The designer watches and sneakers I’ve given him over the years were worth at least several million dollars, but I don’t plan to make an issue of it. Damien, however, turns red with anger and suddenly stands up. “I always thought you were just a bit spoiled. I never imagined you’d be so stubborn—now you’re actually threatening me with a breakup.” “I’m only saying this for your own good. Sure, your family has money, but did you earn a single cent of it? I’m teaching you not to squander your parents’ hard-earned money. If you had even one-tenth of Lydia’s frugality and simplicity, I wouldn’t have to lecture you constantly.” I can’t help but roll my eyes. He’s the one who brought up breaking up—I’m just agreeing—yet somehow I’m the one threatening him. I give him a cold look. “Since you think Lydia is so frugal and simple, why don’t you go after her? Why do we need to make things difficult for each other?” Lydia Monroe is Damien’s junior in his department. Ever since she enrolled, Damien has constantly compared me to her. Even taking me to street stalls and making me squeeze onto trains during rush hour were Lydia’s suggestions—supposedly to “help rid me of my extravagant airs.” I never wanted any of it. At the mention of Lydia, Damien reacts like a cat whose tail has been stepped on—he explodes. He grabs his backpack violently, scraping his chair with a harsh screech that makes several nearby diners turn to look. “Vivian, you’re completely unreasonable!” “Think about what you’ve done over this meal. When you’ve written a five-thousand-word reflection and recognized your own vanity, then come find me.” With that, he storms off without looking back. This is the first time I’ve seen Damien this angry. He’s known on campus as the aloof genius student, while I’m the airheaded rich girl with no brains. Back then, it was only because my dad donated a building to the school that I got in through the back door. When I first arrived on campus, all I wanted was a sweet romance, and I happened to set my sights on Damien in the crowd. We’re supposedly dating, yet he criticizes everything about me. I feel wronged too—it’s not my fault my family has money, and being born wealthy is a gift from my parents. But he treats it like original sin, constantly belittling and suppressing me. For three years, I’ve walked on eggshells around him, terrified of accidentally displaying wealth and upsetting him. I thought his noble disdain for money was a rare quality. Now I see clearly—it’s just arrogance born from extreme insecurity. By attacking my lifestyle, he gains a sense of psychological superiority. I’ve had enough of this. I pull out my phone and send my dad a message on SnapChat. “Dad, about that suggestion from before—I agree.” For three years, I’ve fought with my dad constantly over Damien. A while back, Dad carefully asked if I wanted to meet the Shaw family’s son who’d returned from abroad, saying he’d decline if I didn’t want to. Back then, I was all about freedom in love. Looking back now, I was adorably stupid. Rather than lowering myself and still being criticized constantly, I might as well find someone from a matching background—at least we’d share the same values and wouldn’t fight over a few hundred dollars for a meal.

My dad’s efficiency is terrifying. Early the next morning, I receive detailed information about Austin Shaw, along with an invitation to a charity gala. Immediately after, my banking app pings with a deposit notification. A string of zeros so long I can’t count them, with Dad’s message simple and direct: Buy whatever you want. Having shed the mental burden named “Damien,” the first thing I do is call the housekeeper and point to my closet full of pilled hoodies and nine-dollar jeans bought in bulk—all “high-value purchases” Damien forced me to buy over three years to “build my character.” “Throw it all away.” For three years, Damien subjected me to comprehensive “poverty transformation.” If I wore anything slightly expensive, he called me “materialistic.” If I put on makeup, he said I looked “gaudy.” Even when I took a cab to school, he’d furrow his brow and say with pained disappointment that I was “spoiled.” Afraid of making him angry, I tried to please him constantly, forcibly transforming myself from “Miss Hayes” into a “poverty case student.” But now? This young lady is done serving him. I change into a limited-edition Chanel suit and put on the sapphire necklace that’s been gathering dust in my jewelry box for three years. Looking at my radiant reflection in the mirror, I smile with satisfaction. After three years, the pink sports car I’d left to collect dust in the garage finally sees daylight again. The roar of the engine explodes at the school gate, instantly drawing countless eyes. “Vivian!” It’s Damien! My heart jumps and I want to flee. In the past, whenever I displayed wealth, Damien would punish me with thousand-word essays or give me the cold shoulder for days. But then I think—we’ve broken up. Why should I fear him? While I’m hesitating, Damien has already strode over, with Lydia following behind him, struggling under an armful of books and gasping for breath. His gaze sweeps over my eye-catching car and outfit, as if I’m some bloodsucking capitalist exploiter. “Are you insane? Dressed like this, driving this kind of car to school?” “Everyone walks or bikes here, and you show up in this thing—afraid people won’t know you have money? This behavior will corrupt the school atmosphere!” I almost laugh with anger. Just as I’m about to retort, I catch sight of Lydia behind him. “I didn’t steal or rob anyone. What do I have to fear?” I raise an eyebrow and look pointedly at the two of them. “The school rules don’t forbid dating, and they don’t forbid driving to school, right?” Hearing this, Damien’s face darkens further. “What are you talking about?!” Lydia also peeks out from behind her stack of books, looking timid. “You’ve misunderstood. He was just helping me because the books were too heavy… I didn’t expect you’d think that.” “Have you made enough of a scene?” He suddenly reaches out and grabs my wrist, his grip so tight it feels like he’ll crush my bones. “Since we’ve run into each other, help Lydia carry these books to the office and cure yourself of that lazy disease!” My wrist throbs with pain. I struggle desperately. “I won’t! Damien, let go! We’ve already broken up—why should I listen to you?!”

“Vivian, this is an order! I’m the student council president, which gives me the authority to correct this kind of toxic behavior!” Damien doesn’t relent at my resistance. Instead, he adopts an official tone and tries to force the heavy stack of books into my arms. I shake off his hand and rub my reddened wrist, letting out a cold laugh without holding back. “Student council president? Damien, do you really think you became president on your own merit?” “If my dad hadn’t spoken to the administration and donated fifty million dollars, how could someone with your abilities back then have beaten all those more qualified candidates for the position?” Damien’s face turns deathly pale, as if he’s been slapped in public. His lips tremble but before he can respond— Lydia suddenly rushes forward like she’s lost her mind. “Shut up! Don’t you dare slander him like that!” Before I can react, she shoves me hard. Completely unprepared and standing in stilettos, I lose my balance and fall heavily onto the concrete. “Ah—” A burning pain shoots through my palms instantly. Looking down, I see my hands scraped raw against the rough pavement, blood and grit oozing out—it hurts like hell. The sapphire necklace falls to the ground, and Lydia steps on it. Before I can get up, she’s already spoken first. Looking down at me from above, a flash of gloating crosses her eyes, but her voice carries a sob as she shouts. “Vivian! How can you do this? You’re the one who changed your heart, yet you’re publicly destroying his reputation!” She points at my pink sports car and designer outfit behind me, her voice shrill and piercing, as if passing righteous judgment on me. “Everyone, judge for yourselves! Vivian used to only eat the cheapest food in the cafeteria—how could she suddenly afford a sports car worth hundreds of thousands overnight?” “Where did this money come from? Don’t you know in your heart? Do I need to tell everyone that you found yourself a sugar daddy?” “Damien just doesn’t want to watch you fall into degradation. He’s been trying to bring you back to the right path, but not only are you ungrateful—you’re biting back for the sake of temporary vanity!” This information bomb makes the crowd of onlookers explode instantly. Those curious gazes immediately turn to contempt, and whispers buzz in my ears like flies. “Oh my god, so she’s being kept…” “I knew it. How could someone who normally wears thrift store clothes suddenly get rich? She went that route.” “So shameless, showing off at the school gate. Her parents must be mortified.” Public opinion instantly shifts. Everyone believes Lydia’s lies. I’m shaking with anger, my nails digging into my flesh, but I can’t feel the pain. I can only stare at Damien. He’s the only person here who knows my true identity. Even if we’ve broken up, even if he hates me, as long as he tells the truth, this ridiculous rumor will fall apart. “Damien, say something!” I demand through clenched teeth, my eyes reddening. “Tell them—is my money dirty or not? Did I become like this for vanity?” Damien looks at me sitting disheveled on the ground, a flash of complicated struggle in his eyes. But he glances at the watching students around us, then at Lydia, who “defended him” by stepping forward. In the end, the shame of being exposed for riding a woman’s coattails defeats his conscience. He supports the “swaying” Lydia and sighs with seeming heartbreak, looking utterly disappointed in me. “Vivian, Lydia’s words may be crude, but she’s not wrong. Vanity is the most terrible poison in this world.” “Although we’ve broken up, I really don’t want to see you selling your soul and body for material things, making yourself so dirty.” “Take my advice—return the car, break it off with that person. It’s not too late to turn back now.”

In that moment, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. To protect his pitiful pride, he’s actually endorsing this despicable accusation and even pretending to care while labeling me as “kept.” With the student council president’s “personal confirmation,” the surrounding gazes completely change. Disgust, contempt, revulsion—as if looking at repulsive trash. “Quick, take photos and post them to the forum as a warning. This kind of person is a disgrace to our school!” Someone shouts, and several phones are shoved in my face, camera flashes blinding me. Some even start livestreaming, broadcasting to their viewers. “Everyone, look! This is the ‘luxury car girl’ who became some old man’s mistress for money. Her ex-boyfriend just exposed her and she even tried to hit people!” “People like this should be expelled! Absolutely disgusting!” Sitting on the ground, hearing words like “fallen,” “gold digger,” and “escort” pelting me like stones, I feel utterly absurd. Some people even rush forward trying to grab at me. “What are you all doing?! This looks like a riot!” A commanding shout cuts through the crowd. The watching students freeze as if someone hit pause, automatically parting to make way. The Dean of Students, face dark and hands behind his back, strides in. Seeing me disheveled on the ground and that eye-catching pink sports car, his brow furrows into a tight knot. “What’s going on? Who brought this kind of social pollution onto campus?” Before I can speak, Lydia, like a frightened little rabbit with red-rimmed eyes, rushes to report first. “Dean, thank goodness you’re here. She… she’s brought such disgrace to our school.” While speaking, she subtly points out my sports car to the dean. “Vivian, in her greed for pleasure, was not only kept by some old man off-campus—she brazenly drove this filthy car onto campus to show off.” “When Damien kindly advised her to reform, she not only refused to listen but tried to attack people.” This bucket of dirty water is poured flawlessly. It both confirms my “kept woman” status and clears herself and Damien completely. The dean’s face instantly turns black as a pot, his disgusted gaze cutting into me like knives. “Kept? Absolutely scandalous!” Ignoring the pain in my palms, I struggle up from the ground. “I wasn’t! This car was bought by my father, the money came from my family—there’s no old man at all!” “Lydia, you open your mouth and destroy someone’s reputation—where’s your proof?” I stare at her, trying to break free from this absurd accusation. But the surrounding crowd erupts in mocking laughter. “From your family? Vivian, at least make your lies believable.” “Exactly. Everyone knows you’ll argue with the cafeteria lady for half an hour over five dollars.” “If you were really a rich kid, would you wear thrift store hand-me-downs? Would you beg the class president for a few hundred dollars in financial aid?” The voices of doubt grow louder and louder. In their eyes, poverty is the brand I’ve worn for three years. The dean, hearing this, dismisses his last shred of doubt. He points at my nose, his finger trembling with anger. “Well, well! A century-old prestigious school has produced such a shameless student!” “Selling your body for vanity, showing no remorse, and openly promoting materialism at the school gate!” “Keeping this bad apple would be an insult to other students!” I’m freezing cold all over, desperately trying to explain. “I really didn’t—you can check my bank accounts…” “Enough! No need to check!” The dean waves his hand, impatiently cutting me off. “Everyone says so—could they all be wrong about you?” “Notify your parents. Get this eyesore of a car out of here immediately and pack your things!” “For the school’s reputation—Vivian, you’re expelled!”

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I’d been in a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend Adrian for five years. Every night, he’d call me to satisfy his needs. Right before he came, his voice would always go thick and low. “Harper, I miss you so much it’s killing me…” The day before Valentine’s Day, I booked a flight home and hid in his closet to surprise him. When Adrian walked in, I was about to jump out. Then I watched him carry my best friend Chloe onto the bed. She straddled him, unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time, her voice syrupy and sweet. “Adrian, that idiot Harper still hasn’t figured out we’ve been together for five years. How boring is that?” “She’s begged you to marry her nineteen times. Why don’t we give her a surprise at our wedding next week?” I clutched the engagement ring in my palm. My mind went completely blank. Adrian’s hand slid under her dress, his voice lazy. “Why the rush? I already sent her to work in Scandinavia. You’re still worried?” Through the wooden slats, their shameless moans echoed in my ears. I curled up in the closet, my hand pressed over my mouth. My heart was already dead.

The two of them lay tangled and naked on what was supposed to be my wedding bed. Tears hit my phone screen. Right then, it lit up with a text from Adrian. “Harper, let’s not just call today. How about a video call?” Chloe glanced at the message and let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Adrian, you let her listen while we fuck, but now you wanna livestream it?” Adrian tugged her panties between his teeth, grinning. “Wanna bet whether she picks up?” Before I could react, Adrian’s video call came through. My hands trembling, I tapped the screen several times before finally hitting decline. One was a man who had once used his life to protect me in earthquake rubble. The other was a woman who had helped me when I faced school bullying. And now, they were having sex on my bed. The scene was too much. So much so that even after they’d gone through an entire box of condoms, I still couldn’t move. Adrian lit a cigarette and slowly turned his gaze toward the closet. Our eyes met. My heart felt like it was being crushed in someone’s fist. Adrian blew a smoke ring and smirked. “Harper, you into voyeurism now? How long are you planning to hide in there?” Chloe’s face went pale, and she dove under the covers in fright. Three seconds later, I stumbled out of the closet, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “I wanted to give you a surprise.” Adrian sat up leisurely and blew smoke directly in my face. “Surprise? The text notification for your flight booking came to my phone ages ago. What surprise could there possibly be?” He reached under Chloe’s dress and pulled out a wet bunny tail, tossing it at me. “Learn something. That’s what a surprise looks like.” I’d proposed to him nineteen times, each time coming up with different creative ways, all to repay him for saving my life. But now, all my efforts had become a joke. “Why? Why would you both do this to me…” Seeing my blank expression, Adrian said flatly. “What? Harper, you didn’t actually think you could have me all to yourself, did you? That’s pretty selfish.” “Besides, Chloe moans pretty loud every time I call you. You seriously never heard her?” So every time he told me he missed me, he was inside her. I couldn’t stop shaking. My stomach rolled with nausea. Chloe pulled on my nightgown and put it on slowly, smiling mockingly. “Harper, didn’t you always say you’d share everything with me? You’re so busy with work, I was kind enough to help Adrian with his physical needs. Shouldn’t you thank me?” I shoved her away violently and grabbed a photo frame, hurling it at her. “Get out! Both of you get out!” Ironically, the photo of Adrian and me in the frame had already been replaced with a picture of Chloe in a bikini. And every day Adrian would tell me that when he missed me, all he could do was look at my photo. Turns out he meant this kind of photo. A shriek rang out. Adrian didn’t hesitate to shield Chloe. The frame struck his temple, and blood immediately began streaming down. “Harper, can you stop being crazy? It’s not like I’m abandoning you.” “Not marrying you isn’t my fault. Have you really never looked in a mirror and faced what your background is?” “Chloe and I are just having a wedding ceremony. As long as you don’t make a scene, our relationship will never change.” I frantically grabbed everything within reach and threw it at them. “Relationship? What relationship? You want me to be the mistress?” “Get out! Both of you cheating scum, get out!” The door slammed with earth-shaking force. Looking at the chaos throughout the bedroom, I threw the engagement ring I’d been clutching out the window. Then, possessed by some strange impulse, I picked up a small piece of broken glass. Like I used to do when I was young, numbly I pressed it against my wrist and dragged it across.

All the love and hate flowed out along with my blood. In my daze, I remembered that afternoon seven years ago when the earth shook. The school building collapsed. I was trapped under a concrete slab, waiting to die in despair. But Adrian frantically dug through the rubble and pulled me out bit by bit with his blood-soaked hands. The aftershocks continued, and when a huge boulder fell toward us, he didn’t hesitate to throw himself over me, using his back to create a protective bridge. Debris rained down on his head, his back, his face, but he gritted his teeth and smiled at me. “Harper, don’t be afraid. As long as I’m here, you won’t die.” After that, he had a vicious scar on his back. I traced that scar with trembling fingers, sobbing uncontrollably. But he just smiled like a fool. “Why are you crying? This scar is proof that I love you.” And in high school, some girls cornered me in an alley. They called me a fatherless bastard and said they’d use box cutters to slash my seductive face. It was Chloe who charged in alone to protect me, pointing at them viciously. “You dare touch her? Just try it!” From that day on, Chloe walked to and from school with me. She told me so earnestly. “Harper, we’re going to be best friends for life.” When I woke up in the hospital, Adrian’s gaze fell on the crisscrossed scars on my wrist, and he sighed softly. “Harper, I always thought you were smart.” His voice was low, like he was stating something he’d known all along. “What’s so bad about staying by my side?” “You know your background. I could never possibly agree to marry you.” “All that talk about marrying you on the nineteenth proposal… I was just humoring you.” Ever since my father ran off with his mistress, my mother’s mental state had been unstable. And Adrian and Chloe both came from elite families. Whenever people gossiped about me behind my back, Adrian and Chloe would fiercely defend me. I often asked myself: what had I done to deserve such care from these prince and princess figures? Adrian paused, his eyes unreadable. “Harper, what exactly do you want? Money? Love? Medical resources for your mother? Or…” He leaned close, his voice sharp as a blade. “Do you want me to give you a child?” Motherhood securing status-it had always worked. But I used all my strength to slap him hard across the face. “I want you gone! Never let me see you again for the rest of my life!” Adrian froze for a moment. He slowly traced his cheek with his long fingers, then laughed, pressing his tongue against his back teeth. The hospital room door was pushed open again. Chloe walked in carrying a basket of mangoes, her laugh bright and deliberate. “Oh my, my dear best friend, playing hard to get again?” She walked to Adrian’s side, her eyes sliding past me. “Adrian got tired of that game seven years ago. It’s not appropriate to keep playing it now.” She began peeling a mango for me. But I’m allergic to mangoes. Chloe had known that from the day she met me. She deliberately showed off the dazzling diamond on her ring finger. Adrian had once said he would buy his future wife the biggest, most brilliant diamond ring. Remembering how I’d accidentally gouged a piece of flesh from my palm while crafting Adrian’s wedding ring, my heart throbbed with dense, sharp pain again. Chloe handed me the peeled mango. I raised my hand and slapped it to the floor. The juice stained her dress. Adrian’s eyes darkened immediately. “Harper, if you have a problem, take it out on me!” “Chloe’s been good enough to you! She doesn’t even mind me supporting you after we’re married! What more do you want?!” Chloe looked at me with wounded eyes. “Harper, do you really need to target me like this?” I was about to throw them out when two trending topics suddenly appeared on my phone. The first was the joyful news of a marriage alliance between the two elite families of Adrian and Chloe. But the second was a record of my seven-year romance with Adrian. The comments were full of people cursing Chloe for being a homewrecker who knew about me and pursued him anyway. Adrian’s usually unrestrained face suddenly turned dark. He ground out the words through clenched teeth. “Harper, you’re really despicable…”

But I hadn’t logged into any social media accounts since waking up. Chloe grabbed my wrist and screamed. “Harper! People live by their reputation! Are you trying to destroy me?!” “Adrian saved your life! I saved your face! Even your job in Scandinavia was through our connections! We don’t expect you to repay us, but how can you be so ungrateful?!” During the struggle, the wound on my wrist reopened. Blood dripped onto the sheets one drop at a time. But Adrian just looked at me with disappointed eyes. I took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “It wasn’t me.” But Adrian simply picked up my phone and unlocked it by entering his birthday-which he knew by heart. Then he pointed at a ten-thousand-dollar transfer record and demanded coldly. “If it wasn’t you, then what’s this?” He didn’t know that was money I’d advanced for my mother’s surgery. He threw the phone at me, shielded Chloe, and walked out. Half an hour later, Adrian posted his marriage certificate with Chloe on the official social media account of the Sterling Group. The date was seven years ago. The same day Adrian and I had made our relationship official. They’d gotten their marriage license. My heart hurt so much it went numb, yet I couldn’t shed a single tear. Public opinion reversed. Countless netizens cursed me for being a mistress trying to sabotage their marriage. My personal information was quickly exposed, my work email flooded with hate mail, and my social media inbox became a swamp of vile insults. More devastatingly, my supervisor in Scandinavia called to fire me directly. Adrian easily crushed everything I’d worked years to build. And the story of my father abandoning my mother years ago was endlessly magnified. “Harper’s dad didn’t want her mom, and Adrian doesn’t want her either. She and her mother are destined to be mistresses!” “And she proudly posted their chat records, thinking it would hurt Miss Morrison? What a clown!” “Disgusting. How does someone like that have the face to keep living? Harper and her mother should just die!” The class group chat exploded too. “Wasn’t Adrian’s girlfriend always Harper? How is Chloe the one he married?” “You don’t know? Adrian actually always liked Chloe. During that earthquake, he went to save people because he thought it was Chloe buried there!” “So Harper’s been a pathetic stalker for all these years? Wow, she’s been a mistress since her student days?” When I saw that message, I nearly collapsed. Just as I was about to fall, Chloe suddenly steadied me. She looked at my pale face and said with a cheerful smile. “Harper, do you know why Adrian pursued you?” She lowered her voice, enunciating each word. “Because I have certain… preferences.” “Adrian loves me too much, so he condescended to seduce you. Now that I’m bored with this game, it’s time for you to leave!” “Oh right, the day after tomorrow is my wedding with Adrian. My dear best friend, you absolutely must come.” As Chloe turned to leave, she deliberately slipped a pregnancy test into my hand. “The fruit of mine and Adrian’s love. Four months along.” My world collapsed. Adrian’s former devotion, those promises more moving than sweet nothings-it had all just been a game. Adrian’s call suddenly rang. But I didn’t answer. Soon he sent a text. “Harper, don’t believe what they’re saying in the group. After I marry her, I’ll explain everything.” I pressed my nails deep into my palm and typed. “When you called me ‘baby’… were you calling for her?” The other end went silent. The tears I’d held back for so long finally fell. I don’t know how long I stood in the cold wind. I wiped away my tears and dialed a number I hadn’t used in ages. “Mr. Hawthorne, I agree to join your polar research project. For the three years I’m gone, please take care of my mother.” The person on the other end agreed readily. “No problem. I’ll send a private jet for your mother right away.” The call ended, and immediately the phone rang with a call from my mother’s caregiver. “Miss Reed, something terrible has happened! Your mother’s in trouble!”

When I found my mother, she was being pinned to the ground by several caregivers, barely alive. Her back was already torn and bloody, yet she still stared fixedly at Chloe. “I’ll kill you!” Chloe had three bloody scratches on her face, clearly from my mother’s nails. She gripped the whip in her hand, saying through gritted teeth. “The wedding is tomorrow! How can I face people looking like this?” “You old hag! Ninety-nine lashes left! I’m going to beat you to death today!” Understanding what had happened, I immediately rushed forward to shield my mother. But the doctors had said for years that her condition was improving. Why would she suddenly lose control? Crack! The whip struck me hard. I cried out in pain. But Chloe looked down at me from above, smiling smugly. “Harper, your mother couldn’t compete with mine. And now you can’t compete with me either.” I froze. “What did you say?” My eyes fell on the family photo in her hand. My father-the one who’d abandoned his wife and child-had his arm lovingly around another woman’s waist. So Chloe’s mother was the mistress from back then! Chloe’s laughter echoed in my ears. “Serves you right! Who told your mom to call my mom a homewrecker back then! Now you’ve become the real mistress. I’ve finally avenged my mother!” “I’ll tell you the truth: the day you and Adrian made it official, I gave my permission. Adrian treats you slightly well and you’re willing to be a lapdog. You’ve never been loved before, have you? Pathetic.” “Now, either you take these ninety-nine lashes for this old hag, or you go live and tell the whole world that you and your mother are both mistresses.” Every word was like a poisoned needle stabbing into my deepest wounds. Rage surged to my head. I lunged at Chloe like a madwoman. But just as my fingers touched her sleeve, Adrian’s furious voice suddenly came from behind me. “Harper! Don’t you dare!” He kicked me violently aside, his eyes fixed on the sharp scissors on the ground. “Bitch! If you want to die, go die yourself! Don’t touch Chloe!” I held my bloodied mother, tears falling silently. Adrian hesitated slightly and instinctively moved to help me up. But Chloe stumbled into his arms, crying piteously. “Adrian, Harper said her mom’s crazy and won’t be punished for murder!” “I don’t matter if something happens to me, but the baby in my belly…” The trace of pity in Adrian’s eyes for me instantly vanished. The bodyguards immediately understood and grabbed the whip, lashing me viciously. Excruciating pain instantly engulfed my entire body. I screamed. But Adrian refused to look at me again. At that moment, my mother, who had been on the verge of death, suddenly shielded me tightly in her arms. Her cloudy eyes were full of tears as she whispered in my ear. “It’s my fault for being useless and letting you suffer so much. This time, let me protect you.” Hearing her breathing grow weaker and weaker, I cried and begged Adrian for help. “I’m sorry! I apologize! Please, please save my mom!” But no matter how much I pleaded, no one responded. My tears ran dry. The ninety-nine lashes were finished. When my mother went into shock from blood loss, Adrian finally walked out of the room. He finally spared me a glance. “A few lashes won’t kill you. Your current state is partly your mother’s fault! This should teach you both a lesson!” I wiped the blood from my lips. Through my tears, I began to laugh. “Adrian, I really wish I’d never met you in this lifetime.” Adrian stood up and let out a cold laugh. “Fine. Just don’t make a scene at the wedding. I’ll buy your mom a villa. You can live with us, or if it makes you uncomfortable, you can live next door.” I shook my head numbly. “No. We’re never seeing each other again.” “Suit yourself.” With that, Adrian lifted Chloe into his arms and headed straight for the hospital. On the wedding day, Adrian’s wedding procession got into a car accident. At the hospital, he spotted my mother’s caregiver walking out with luggage. Ignoring his own injuries, Adrian went up to her. “Where are you going? Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of Harper’s mother?” She looked at him like he was insane. “Are you out of your mind? Miss Reed’s mother’s funeral is today. You want me to take care of her in the grave?!”

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On our third wedding anniversary, Adrian shoved my head into the freezing pool. “Your parents killed my entire family. You haven’t finished paying for their sins.” Three years I endured his cruelty, trying to atone. Until he found her. A substitute who looked seventy percent like me. He took her to galas. He shredded the scarf I’d knitted for him. He even took my bone marrow to save her. That was when my heart finally died. At midnight, the moment our agreement expired, I walked into the sea. But at my funeral, he held my cold body and screamed. “Please come back to life… We can start over.” Then I opened my eyes. We had been reborn. To before any of it happened. In this life, he clung to me, eyes red, begging me not to leave. I only pushed him away, my voice calm. “Adrian, love is too exhausting. This time, I’m the one letting go.” Yulia’s POV I stood by the pool, looking at Adrian. Today was our third wedding anniversary. The Hayes family was throwing a grand winter party in my honor. Then icy water swallowed my head. My lungs screamed. “Adrian! Please…” I struggled to surface, but before I could finish speaking, the bodyguard pushed me under again. He stood by the pool with a wine glass, completely indifferent to my struggling. “Please?” He finally spoke, his voice colder than winter snow. “Three years ago, when your parents drove exhausted and killed my entire family, did they show any mercy?” He crouched down and grabbed my freezing purple chin. “Yulia, these three years are just the beginning.” I held it in desperately, but tears still poured out. Just as Adrian was about to say something, a coquettish female voice interrupted him. “Adrian, why are you still here? Didn’t you say you’d wait for me?” I looked up to see a girl in a white dress running over. That face was seventy percent similar to how I looked three years ago. This was Chloe, the substitute Adrian had found. “Giving my wife a gift.” Adrian stood up and considerately adjusted her shawl. Chloe glanced at me contemptuously. “A criminal. Don’t waste your time.” As they were about to leave, Chloe deliberately bumped into an ice sculpture. The massive sculpture toppled, and fragments crashed toward me as I climbed out of the pool. Sharp pain hit me, and my blood stained the pool water red. But Adrian took Chloe’s hand and kissed the tiny red mark on her fingertip. I watched them kiss, my heart pierced as if by ice shards. As Adrian carried Chloe away, he only left one sentence behind. “Take care of it. Don’t let her die.” For three years of marriage, all I ever saw was his back. We had grown up together, until the engagement party three years ago. That day, my parents, driving while exhausted, caused an accident that killed his family. My lover became my enemy overnight. He sent my parents to prison, where they couldn’t bear the torment and took their own lives. Before dying, they asked me to atone for three years, and if I still saw no hope, to join them. I pulled out the waterproof bag from my soaked clothes containing our family photo. In the photo, we were smiling so brightly. Only one month remained of the three-year term. For love of him, I had destroyed myself beyond recognition, only to receive this humiliation in return. “Mom, Dad, wait for me one more month,” I whispered. Just one month. Once the agreement was fulfilled, I would join them.

Yulia’s POV For the next few days, Adrian didn’t come home, and I didn’t ask. I stayed alone in the guest room, nursing my wounds. I touched that photo, counting down the twenty-nine days remaining. I decided to make one final effort for Adrian’s birthday. This might be my only hope to keep living. Back then, he said he didn’t like fuss, so our wedding was simple with only a few friends. I thought he probably felt the same about birthdays, which is why he never mentioned it. I was the only one maintaining this relationship. He stood high above, coldly watching me sink deeper. But now, I wanted to fight for myself one more time. Despite the tearing pain in my wounds, I spent the entire day knitting, undoing the yarn twice, finally completing a gray scarf. I dug out old photos and made a handmade album, filling each page with words I wanted to say to him. After finishing, I gathered my courage and sent Adrian a message. “Adrian, are you free tomorrow evening? Let’s meet at our usual restaurant.” I gripped my phone, waiting nervously until the screen lit up. Just a cold “Okay.” The next day, I arrived at the restaurant two hours early and set up the gifts and a small cake I’d made myself. But Adrian was two full hours late. When he pushed through the door and saw everything on the table, his expression immediately darkened. “Who told you to meddle? Did you forget that after my family died, I stopped celebrating birthdays?” As soon as he spoke, he expected me to cry and make a scene, since this was my surprise. He had even prepared his response, but I just looked at him. Adrian didn’t give me a chance to explain. He took scissors from the server and, right in front of me, cut that scarf to shreds. Gray yarn fragments scattered like snow, landing on me like a snowfall of despair. I didn’t dodge, just spoke with a trembling voice. “Adrian, let’s let each other go, okay? We can start over.” “Start over?” He laughed coldly, grabbed my chin, his eyes bloodshot. “That night of the accident, my parents, my sister, they died right in front of me! My grandfather couldn’t take the shock and collapsed on the spot. We couldn’t save him either! How can you tell me to let go? Yulia, tell me, how can I possibly let go!” After that night, he seemed like a different person. But I no longer had the energy to analyze his changes. Just then, the restaurant door opened again. Chloe walked in carrying a huge glass jar filled with colorful lucky stars. “Adrian, happy birthday.” She placed the jar on the table, smiling sweetly. “There are a thousand stars here. For each one you take out, you can make a wish to me.” Seeing this scene, hearing those words, both Adrian and I froze. On my twentieth birthday, I had given him the exact same gift and said the exact same words. He released me and pulled Chloe tightly into his arms, his voice hoarse. “I love it so much, Chloe. I love this gift so much.” Chloe shot me a triumphant look. In the past, seeing them so intimate would have made me cause a scene on the spot. But now, I just glanced once before looking away, stroking the neglected album on the table. My heart ached numbly. What defeated me wasn’t Chloe, but the version of myself at twenty that Adrian had deeply loved. He utterly hated the me of now, yet had a sick obsession with the Yulia in his memories. He gave all his tenderness to that substitute who looked like his Yulia. I was the most unnecessary one.

Yulia’s POV I couldn’t watch anymore. I stood up abruptly and left the restaurant without looking back. I drove through the night, wandering aimlessly. Tears fell without warning. So this numb heart could still feel pain. A white figure suddenly rushed out from the roadside. I slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. The front of my car hit the person hard, throwing them several meters away. I hurriedly got out of the car. When I saw who was lying in the pool of blood, I froze completely. It was Chloe. Why was she here? Before I could figure it out, Adrian’s furious roar came from behind. He rushed out of the car behind mine and frantically picked up the unconscious Chloe. “Yulia, why won’t you even spare her!” He looked up, his eyes full of hatred, as if he wanted to tear me apart. “It wasn’t me… She rushed out herself!” I explained, trembling. Adrian wouldn’t listen at all. He carried Chloe to his own car. Before leaving, he only gave orders to the arriving bodyguards. “Take her to the hospital. Make her kneel outside the emergency room to atone to Chloe!” I was forced to kneel on the cold tiles, two bodyguards restraining me tightly. Every second felt like torture. I heard Adrian pacing anxiously in the hallway, heard him roaring into his phone, using every connection to find the best doctors. Finally, he stopped in front of me, his voice as cold as ice. “If anything happens to her, you’ll pay with your life.” After what seemed like forever, the emergency room light finally went out. The doctor emerged, looking grave. “The patient is out of immediate danger, but we discovered she has acute leukemia. She must undergo a bone marrow transplant immediately.” Adrian’s body swayed. The doctor continued. “The patient has the rare Rh-negative blood type. Finding matching bone marrow will be extremely difficult…” Before he finished, Adrian’s gaze turned to me. He remembered-I also had Rh-negative blood. Under his stare, I felt cold all over, more terrified than ever before. I struggled to stand up, wanting to escape. “Hold her down!” Adrian commanded sharply. The bodyguards immediately stepped forward and pinned me down. “Adrian…” My voice shook uncontrollably. “Are you really going to do this to me?” He walked up to me step by step, his face devoid of warmth, only cold determination. “This is what you owe her. You have no right to refuse.” Then he turned to the doctor and ordered. “Use her bone marrow. Arrange the surgery immediately!” As they pushed me into the operating room, I saw Adrian sign his name as my spouse on a surgical consent form I had never agreed to. The surgical lights were so bright I couldn’t open my eyes. In a daze, I remembered once cutting my finger while cooking vegetables. He had panicked as if the sky were falling. He rushed me to the hospital, carefully bandaging me. And now, this man personally sent me to the operating table to extract part of me to save another woman. I closed my eyes, and tears slid down from the corners. Our relationship had actually come to this.

Yulia’s POV That night, I developed a high fever. Adrian didn’t come back. I burned in a daze, the puncture pain in my lower back mixing with old fracture injuries, hurting so much I didn’t even have the strength to call for emergency help. I could only force myself to get up and swallow a few fever-reducing pills. The medication didn’t work that fast. I lay back on the bed, my whole body burning, feeling suffocated from discomfort. I don’t know how long passed before I finally drifted into an uneasy sleep. When I woke up in the hospital room, I heard nurses gossiping. “Miss Chloe is so lucky. Mr. Hayes stayed outside the operating room all night for her.” “Yeah, I’ve never seen him so anxious about anyone.” I weakly spoke up, correcting them. “I’m his wife.” The nurses looked at each other awkwardly, lowered their heads, and hurried away. I struggled to get out of bed for some water but fell from the hospital bed in pain. Adrian, outside the door, saw this scene and seemed about to step forward, but then stopped abruptly and turned to leave quickly. His assistant hesitantly spoke. “Mr. Hayes, your wife…” “She deserves it,” Adrian interrupted him. “I let her go. Who’ll let me go?” I had no mind to pay attention to them. I rested alone in the hospital room for a few days until I received a text from an unknown number. It was a photo. In the photo, Chloe was smugly playing with an old pocket watch-the only keepsake my mother had left me. The text included a line: “Your bone marrow works great. Oh, and Adrian said this watch looks better on me anyway. Makes me more like the old you.” My emotions completely collapsed. I yanked out my IV, ignoring the nurse’s attempts to stop me, and rushed straight to Chloe’s hospital room. “Give it back!” Seeing me, Chloe smiled even more triumphantly. “Mrs. Hayes, Adrian gave this to me. Why should I return it to you?” I abandoned all dignity, my voice trembling. “Please, give it back to me… That’s the last thing my mother left me…” Seeing her unmoved, I gritted my teeth and offered my final condition. “As long as you return the watch, I’ll give you the position of Mrs. Hayes.” “Give it to me?” Chloe acted as if she’d heard the biggest joke. As soon as she finished speaking, the hospital room door opened. Adrian walked in with a dark expression, just in time to hear my last sentence. “Yulia, in your eyes, is my wife’s position so cheap? Not even worth an old trinket?” “No…” I explained frantically. “That’s my mother’s last keepsake!” “Mother?” He snatched the watch from Chloe’s hand. “Everything related to your parents should disappear!” With that, he strode to the window and raised his hand to throw the watch out. “No!” I screamed and lunged forward, trying to grab the watch back. In the struggle, I crashed into his body. The watch flew out the window, and I lost my balance and fell out too. “Yulia!” Adrian screamed, reaching out to catch me, but grasped only air. He rushed downstairs like a madman and picked me up from the pool of blood with trembling hands, his voice filled with unprecedented panic. “Yulia, wake up! Don’t you dare die!” In my fading consciousness, I seemed to see a flash of unprecedented fear and heartache in his eyes. In my dead heart, a tiny spark of hope somehow ignited again. But when I woke up in the hospital room again and heard the doctor report my multiple fractures, I saw Adrian standing just outside the door. He walked in and looked down at me from above. “Don’t think I’ll feel sorry for you. Keeping you alive is only to make you suffer more.” He paused, then declared word by word: “Between us, it’s fight to the death.” That last bit of hope was extinguished by his own hand. My heart died completely. I slowly closed my eyes and said softly. “Fine. Then I’ll go die.”

Yulia’s POV For the first time, I saw Adrian panic. All these years, he’d always been cold and cruel. I’d even thought he had no heart. Now he finally lost his composure for me, but unfortunately, it was too late. Adrian quickly left the hospital room because of something related to Chloe. As soon as he left, I pulled out my IV. No matter how much the doctor tried to persuade me, I insisted on checking myself out. I knew I was dying soon and needed to arrange my affairs first. I wanted to take a photo, buy a cemetery plot in the most scenic location, and have a custom music box made with all three of our names engraved on it. After I died, the music box would be buried with that family photo. Dragging my wounded body, I returned to that so-called “home.” As soon as I entered, a white figure pounced into my arms, tail wagging frantically. It was Snowball, the Samoyed that Adrian and I had raised for eight years. This dog was the last thing left between us. “Snowball…” I hugged it tightly, remembering how Adrian had once laughingly said we were “a family of three.” My eyes immediately stung with tears. I decided that before I died, I would find a good home for the aging Snowball. After contacting adopters, I was just about to leave with Snowball when Chloe blocked the doorway. “Where are you going?” Chloe walked in smiling, her gaze falling on Snowball. A flash of malice crossed her eyes. “This dog is the last thing you care about, isn’t it?” I didn’t want to waste words with her. I held Snowball tight and tried to walk around her. “Stop her!” At Chloe’s command, two bodyguards stepped forward to block my path. “What do you want?” I retreated warily. Chloe sneered and told the bodyguards. “Take that dog from her.” I desperately protected Snowball but was shoved aside by a bodyguard. My forehead hit the stair railing, and blood immediately flowed down. “Woof! Woof woof!” Seeing me hurt, Snowball struggled to pounce and bite, but a bodyguard grabbed a club and beat it to death, blow after blow. Snowball’s cries grew weaker and weaker until it lay motionless in a pool of blood. “No! Snowball!” I cried out and lunged toward its gradually cooling body. In the chaos, I knocked into Chloe. She tumbled down the stairs, blood soon seeping beneath her. Just then, the villa’s main door opened and Adrian walked in, witnessing this exact scene. He rushed over in a few strides and picked up Chloe. When he looked at me, his eyes were full of murderous intent. “Yulia! Why do you want to kill her too? Don’t you know she just had surgery!” I pointed at Snowball’s corpse, my voice hoarse. “She killed Snowball…” Adrian’s gaze swept over Snowball’s body and paused for an instant. Then he said something that froze all the blood in my body. “Good that it’s dead.” He said coldly. “Nothing that proves we were ever in love should remain.” That sentence completely destroyed me. So every trace of love between us should be erased in his eyes. I shook my head and laughed bitterly. “Fine.” I said only one word.

Yulia’s POV After hanging up the phone, I was locked in the villa’s storage room. This was Chloe’s idea. She said I had caused her to fall down the stairs and must be punished by staying in this lightless, waterless storage room for two days. Adrian agreed. He carried Chloe and rushed to the hospital. Before leaving, he ordered the bodyguards to comply. The storage room was dark and damp. I curled up in the corner, shivering from cold. The door opened and light streamed in. Chloe walked in and closed the door behind her. In the darkness, only the sound of her heels clicking on the floor remained. She crouched down, grabbed my chin, and forced me to look up. “Do you feel wronged?” Before she finished speaking, a slap landed hard on my face. A buzzing sound-the world went out of focus, sweetness exploded in my mouth. The blow knocked me sideways to the ground, but she shook her hand as if disgusted. “That slap was on behalf of Adrian.” She sneered and lifted her foot to grind down on the back of my hand. “Remember your place.” I lay on the ground dry heaving, unable to vomit anything, only physiological nausea and overwhelming despair. Chloe looked at my miserable state with satisfaction and turned to leave. The high fever and infected wounds gradually blurred my consciousness. In my daze, I felt a pair of strong arms lift me up. Someone gently wiped my face, applied medicine to my wounds, and gave me water and medication. That person leaned by my ear and called my nickname in a tone I’d never heard before-heartbroken and regretful. “Yulia… Yulia…” I didn’t dare open my eyes, afraid this was just a dream. But I knew in my heart that person was Adrian. In his heart, there was still a place for me. Just then, Adrian’s phone, left nearby, rang. He walked to the side to answer. It was Chloe calling. “Adrian, I think I’m pregnant! I haven’t had my period for over a month. We finally have our own child!” Chloe’s voice was bright, breathless with excitement. “I already picked out names. Adrian Jr. for a boy, Yulia Jr. for a girl. What do you think?” Adrian Jr. Yulia Jr. We’d chosen those names years ago, back when we were still in love and the future still felt ours. This memory cut through me like poison. Adrian was silent for a long time. Then, dazed, he answered. “Okay.” “I’ll come to the hospital right away.” After hanging up, he turned and met my open eyes on the bed. But he said nothing. He turned and walked out. The door closed. I slowly closed my eyes. He had new hope, a new family, a new future. And I could finally die. With nothing left to hold me here.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “357932”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #校园School

Everyone knew that the most important thing in Marcus Smith’s life was scientific research. He promised that as soon as he won the Lincoln Research Award, he would marry me immediately. For this, I waited for him ten years. During the day I was his lab assistant, at night his stress-relief bed partner, letting him vent as he pleased. Until I went to the lab to deliver materials to him. I saw him pressing his sponsored poverty scholarship student, Lily Foster, onto the couch, entangled desperately with her. Amid the entanglement, Lily sobbed softly: “Marcus, you’re about to step onto the Lincoln Award podium, and I’m going to lose you.” Marcus’s tone was gentle: “How could that be? You’ll receive the award with me too. I organized Hailey Snow’s data and put your name on it. I want you to stand beside me openly and honorably.” I froze at the doorway, sneering inwardly. I’d like to see how they plagiarize my data when I’m on the awards committee. I was about to leave when suddenly a voice came from the end of the corridor: “Hailey!” It was a new graduate research student from the lab, coming to ask me questions. Hearing the sudden silence from inside the room, I smiled. After answering the student’s questions, I raised my hand and knocked gently on the door. “Come in.” Marcus’s voice was calm as usual. I pushed the door open. He sat in his chair while Lily stood beside him, her cheeks slightly flushed, her lips more vivid than usual. “Hailey.” Marcus looked up tentatively. “When did you get here?” “Just now. A student came to ask me questions.” I answered calmly. Marcus nodded. “Perfect timing. I have an announcement to make. Go call everyone to the conference room.” In the conference room, Marcus spoke eloquently while Lily sat to his left. I sat in the farthest corner, opening my notebook. “…So, for the paper ‘Novel Semiconductor Interface State Regulation,’” he paused, “the first author will be Lily.” Lily covered her mouth, but her eyes were astonishingly bright. “Professor Smith… how can this work? The data was mainly Hailey’s…” “The team needs to focus on cultivating young talent.” Marcus interrupted her, his gaze turning to me. “Your data work is very solid, but Lily needs this paper more to apply for her doctorate. Does anyone object?” Seven or eight people in the lab—no one dared speak. My fingers gripping the edge of my notebook tightened slightly, my knuckles turning white. Then I suddenly stood up. The coffee cup on the table fell and shattered on the floor. “I don’t agree.” Marcus frowned, his tone impatient. “All results in the lab belong to the team. Hailey, your contribution will be reflected in the acknowledgments section.” “Acknowledgments?” I laughed coldly. “Three months, working fourteen hours a day, measuring seven hundred data sets, optimizing five parameter models—and in the end it’s worth just an ‘acknowledgment’?” His face darkened. “Watch your attitude. This is a public setting.” “Public setting?” I looked around. “So you deliberately chose to notify me here? To humiliate me in front of everyone?” Lily timidly interjected: “Hailey, don’t be angry. Professor Smith is just thinking of my future…” “Your future?” I turned to her, enunciating each word. “Building your future with my data?” Marcus strode over and grabbed my wrist. “Don’t make a scene here. We’ll talk about it when we get back.” I shook off his hand. “Let’s be clear right here. Marcus, you promised me this paper was mine. You said it yourself!” A flash of panic crossed his face, quickly replaced by anger: “That was on the premise that the data met standards! Your final verification data had too much fluctuation. Lily helped you recalibrate it!” I almost laughed until I cried. The data fluctuation was due to a temporary instrument malfunction. Later I worked all night repeating the experiment three times to get accurate data. Lily timely pulled out her notebook and turned to a certain page. “Hailey, look, this is my calculation draft from that time…” Suddenly, I felt blood rushing to my head. “That’s my calculation method! You just copied it!” “Hailey!” Marcus shouted sternly, then moved close to my ear. “Do you really want to make such a scene? Don’t forget what I have saved on my phone. Do I need to remind you publicly?” My whole body stiffened. Those nights when he coaxed me into taking intimate photos. He said it was for fun, for memories. Turns out he was saving them for this moment. “You…” My voice trembled. A flash of triumph crossed his eyes, his tone softening: “Be good. Give the paper to Lily. There will be better opportunities later, I promise.” Lily also came over. “Hailey, I’m sorry… but my mom really needs money for treatment. This authorship will let me get a scholarship and subsidies…” I looked at her tearful face, then at the threat in Marcus’s eyes. I slowly released my clenched hands and lowered my eyes. “Fine.” Marcus breathed a sigh of relief and patted my shoulder. “That’s more like it.” He turned to face everyone, his tone calm again. “That settles it. Lily, give me the draft by this weekend. Meeting adjourned.” The crowd quickly dispersed. As Lily passed by me, she said very softly, “Thank you, Hailey.” Then she hurried to catch up with Marcus. The empty lab left only me and the mess on the floor. I crouched down and slowly picked up the ceramic cup fragments. A sharp edge cut across my fingertip, and blood immediately welled up. I watched that drop of bright red fall onto the dark blue cover of my lab notebook, slowly spreading. I pressed my entire bloody fingerprint onto the title page. I lifted my head, my face showing only icy calm. The trembling and compromise just now were just a show for them. How ridiculous. After ten years together, Marcus hadn’t noticed at all that what was deeply buried in my eyes wasn’t sadness, but mockery and resolve. I closed the notebook and carefully placed it along with several other key data backups into the inner layer of my backpack. Standing up, I took one last look at Marcus’s tightly closed office door. Light leaked out, casting shadows of two people standing very close together. I lightly curled my lips and turned to leave.

Late night in my apartment, I sat on the floor organizing old boxes. My phone screen lit up abruptly in the dim room. It was a notification for Lily’s social media update. [Grateful for Marcus’s careful guidance. My first first-author paper is about to be submitted!] The attached photo showed Marcus’s profile as he leaned down to explain data to her, his eyes gentle. I turned off my phone and pulled a thick photo album from the bottom of the box. The first photo showed nineteen-year-old me wearing a white lab coat, standing at the lab entrance with a nervous yet excited smile. Next to me was twenty-four-year-old Marcus, his hand casually on my shoulder, full of ambition. He was a third-year graduate student, and I was a freshman “genius newcomer” given special admission to the lab. He said: “Hailey, you’re the most talented student I’ve ever seen. Follow me, and I’ll lead you to work on cutting-edge projects.” I believed him. From then on, my eyes held only him and the lab. I continued flipping through. Many photos. Me in my bachelor’s gown with him waving from the audience. Me operating expensive equipment for the first time with him standing behind me, guiding, his arms almost encircling me. A team outing where he blocked a colleague’s offered drink, saying “She doesn’t drink, I’ll take it”… Every frozen smile now looked like a layer of carefully applied paint, concealing the already rotting wood beneath. Until the last few pages. The photos became fewer. The most recent one was from two years ago, at Marcus’s celebration banquet after winning the Young Scientist Award. He stood under the spotlight holding champagne, giving a speech thanking the team, the university, his parents. That night, he drunkenly held me, his breath hot against my ear: “When I win the Lincoln Award, we’ll get married. I want everyone to know that half my success is yours.” I believed him then. I even felt that all that day-after-day toil, those stolen authorships, those late nights walking home alone—all were necessary thorns on the path to that “future.” How ridiculous. My phone vibrated again. Marcus sent several messages: [I’m not coming back tonight. Lily’s paper has some issues that need handling. Go to bed early.] [My attitude was bad today, but you have to understand—Lily comes from a difficult background. This authorship can change her entire life.] [About the photos—as long as you behave, I won’t let a third person see them. You know what matters most to me.] Looking at his words “behave,” my stomach churned. I got up from the floor and felt under a pile of old sweaters, finding a cold metal square. I pressed play. “I organized Hailey’s data and put your name on it…” “Don’t forget what I have saved on my phone. Do I need to remind you publicly?” “Be good. Give the paper to Lily.” I turned off the voice recorder, gripping it tightly in my hand. The metal edges pressed painfully into my palm, but brought a strange sense of calm. I closed the photo album and opened my computer. A folder labeled “Ten Years” was densely packed with documents: experimental plans, data analysis, paper drafts, project proposals… The author on all of them was Marcus. My name was always in the “Acknowledgments,” or simply absent. I organized evidence until three in the morning. After finishing, I walked into the bathroom, turned on the tap, and splashed cold water on my face. Then I lifted my head and, facing the mirror, said very softly: “Marcus, the scientific career you value, the perfect image you’ve carefully cultivated, the Lily you want to treasure in your palm…” “I’ll destroy them all, one by one, with my own hands.”

The next day, I arrived at the lab as usual and proactively approached Lily. “Do you need me to help review the draft?” Her eyes were guarded, but she nodded. “Thanks, Hailey.” I sat beside her and opened her document. The paper was beautifully written. I knew Marcus’s writing style too well—he likely wrote it himself while she took credit. But in the data presentation section, I immediately spotted problems. I pointed at the screen. “This set of data—did you remeasure it?” Her eyes flickered. “Yes… Professor Smith said this better fits the theoretical predictions.” I sneered inwardly. Science isn’t about fitting predictions—it’s about respecting facts. But I nodded. “True, this makes the charts look better.” I enthusiastically helped her adjust the chart formatting, making extremely subtle changes to several key parameter settings. With Lily’s skill level, she couldn’t possibly notice. Instead, she said gratefully: “Hailey, you’re amazing. The charts suddenly look so much more professional.” Marcus came over and glanced at it, nodding. “Good.” He looked at me, his tone softening. “Hailey, about yesterday… my tone was harsh. But you need to understand—Lily comes from a difficult background. This authorship is very important to her.” I smiled. “I understand. Team interests first.” He seemed relieved, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Dinner together tonight? Consider it… compensation.” My body tensed slightly, but I still nodded. “Okay.” He smiled. That smile had once moved my heart for ten years. Now I only found it hypocritical. At the upscale Western restaurant, Marcus reserved a window seat. He unusually gallantly pulled out my chair and ordered dishes I liked. “Remember our first proper dinner together?” He cut his steak. “Same restaurant.” I nodded. Of course I remembered. That day he received his first national-level project and said “we should celebrate.” That night he drank too much, rambled about his ambitions, and finally fell asleep on my shoulder. In the end, I paid the bill. “Ten years went by so fast.” He raised his glass. “Hailey, thank you for accompanying me all these years.” I clinked glasses but didn’t drink. He continued talking to himself: “Once we secure the Lincoln Award this time, we’ll…” He stopped mid-sentence. “Get married?” I finished for him. His eyes flickered. “Yes. So about the paper—don’t dwell on it anymore. After Lily graduates, I’ll arrange better projects for you.” I smiled. “Okay.” He seemed satisfied with my “compliance” and talked more: “Lily is really struggling, you know. Single-parent family, her mother seriously ill, surviving entirely on scholarships…” I listened quietly. He’d said these things before, only the protagonist was me back then. Then he said: “I’ll make you successful.” Now he said: “You need to help Lily.” Such irony.

When dessert arrived, his phone rang. He glanced at it and declined the call. When it rang for the third time, he frowned and answered: “I know… you don’t need to be nervous, all the data is ready…” The voice on the other end was loud—I could hear Lily crying: “Professor Smith, I’m scared… what if the judges ask questions I can’t answer…” He lowered his voice: “Don’t worry. I’ve arranged everything. Get some rest early. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” After hanging up, he explained to me: “Lily’s a bit nervous about tomorrow’s award ceremony.” I said nothing, quietly setting down my spoon. Marcus looked up. “Not eating?” “I’m full.” I pulled out a napkin to wipe my hands. He nodded and waved to call the server for the check. He pulled out his wallet, his movement pausing: “Hailey, could you pay this time? My credit card maxed out this month. I bought Lily a formal outfit.” I looked at him. Ten years ago at our first dinner, I paid. Ten years later at our last dinner, I was still paying. Really hadn’t changed at all. I took out my card. “Fine.” Walking out of the restaurant, the night breeze was cool. He reached to put his arm around my shoulder. I sidestepped. “I need to get up early tomorrow. I’m heading back.” He froze, his hand suspended in mid-air. “You… are you still angry?” “No.” I hailed a taxi. “Just tired.” Before getting in the car, he suddenly called out: “Hailey.” I turned around. Under the streetlight, his face was half-bright, half-dark. “No matter what happens, you know that what’s always been most important to me is research.” I raised an eyebrow. “I know.” So you can sacrifice everything, including me. As the car started moving, in the rearview mirror, he stood in place, his figure growing smaller and smaller. I checked the time. Eleven PM. Ten hours until the conference began. I told the driver: “Take me to the nearest high-end suit custom shop.” “At this hour? Are they still open?” “They will be if I pay enough.” The car turned onto another road. I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. Marcus. Lily. I really looked forward to seeing their reactions tomorrow!

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I’d been married for three years, and my husband remembered every single one of my periods, knew all my dislikes and preferences by heart. Until his childhood sweetheart, Aria Smith, brought me chestnuts from her hometown. Morning sickness hit me hard, and I spat out the chestnut in my mouth. But Aria broke down crying and ran to complain to my husband. “Bella ate the offering I prepared for the mountain god! What am I going to do? The mountain god will punish me!” My husband, Tristan Hall, eyes red with anger, confronted me in disbelief. “Do you know the mountain god’s wrath could kill Aria? When did you become so vicious?” I was too shocked to speak. Before I could tell him I was pregnant, he locked me in the basement cold storage. “You’ll stay in there and reflect on what you’ve done. Come out when you’ve learned your lesson.” After he left, Aria smiled sweetly as she turned on the refrigeration. “Bella, Tristan belongs to me and me alone!” I couldn’t push the door open. The temperature kept dropping. All that awaited me was endless cold.

Icy air rushed at me from all directions, piercing into my bones. I endured the cramping pain in my abdomen, crawled up from the floor, and pounded on the cold storage door with all my strength. “It’s so cold! Tristan, let me out!” “I know I was wrong! Let me out!” My lower abdomen began cramping again. But no matter how hard I screamed for help with every ounce of strength I had, it remained quiet outside. “Honey… I’m so cold…” I felt a tearing pain in my lower abdomen. A warm flow slowly ran down my thighs. My hands were covered in blood, my voice panicked and trembling. “Honey! Tristan! Please save our baby!” “Please!!!” He never heard my cries. Or he didn’t want to hear them. The temperature around me kept dropping. My mind grew foggy. I was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and shorts. I shivered from the cold, curling up in the corner. Soon, a layer of frost formed on my eyelashes. I exhaled cold breath, my teeth chattering. But no matter how much I called for help, no one responded. The air in the cold storage was thin. A suffocating feeling engulfed me like a tide. I wanted to breathe. But it was too cold. Too cold to have any strength. My vision began to blur, my ears buzzing. In the endless cold and despair, my consciousness gradually faded. My body curled in the corner. After exhaling my last warm breath, I wasn’t cold anymore. My whole body felt burning hot. My brain couldn’t think. Unconsciously, I stripped off all my clothes. Scenes of Tristan proposing to me flashed through my mind. He knelt on one knee, the tenderness in his eyes nearly drowning me. “Bella, I, Tristan, swear to you that I will protect you for life.” “Liar.” After uttering those last words, I finally closed my heavy eyelids. When I opened my eyes again, my soul was floating above. Looking down, I saw my body curled in the corner of the cold storage. Like an ice sculpture. I was dead? Dead at the hands of the man I loved most in this life. After coming home from work, Tristan felt uneasy. “Bella!” He called out several times, but no one answered. “Why is there no sound?” He frowned and walked toward the cold storage. Aria suddenly ran over, her voice clingy and aggrieved. “Tristan, you’re back! I’m starving!” Tristan was carrying my favorite chestnuts. His eyes swept around the room, his steps pausing as he asked in confusion: “I brought her favorite candied chestnuts. By the way, did you see her this afternoon?”

Aria stammered, unable to speak. “Tristan, are you looking for Bella?” “She packed her things… and then left…” “Right! She said not to tell you, to make you angry!” A flash of inexplicable loss crossed Tristan’s eyes. He casually tossed the newly bought chestnuts to Aria. “Since she doesn’t want them, the chestnuts are yours.” The next morning when he left, he felt vaguely uneasy. But he still smiled at our wedding photo on the wall. “Darling, I’m heading out!” My soul followed him as he went to the courthouse. The Tristan in court was completely different from the one at home with me. He was sharp-tongued with clear logic. He left the opposing lawyer speechless. He won a commercial smuggling case worth a billion dollars. No one would imagine that this righteous attorney was the murderer of his own wife! After work, a colleague joked: “Attorney Hall wins the case and won’t even celebrate with us?” “Want to rush home to your wife and kids?” Tristan laughed softly, his earlobes turning red. “Not yet! Although I love kids, I respect Bella’s wishes.” “After all, having children isn’t just my decision. Bella would have to sacrifice more.” I held my breath. If I hadn’t experienced all this firsthand, I might have fallen into the death trap woven from his tenderness and sweetness. His tenderness was all fake pretense. A friend’s voice carried a trace of doubt. “It’s already ten-thirty. How come I haven’t heard your Bella call looking for you?” I held my breath. But Tristan just glanced at his phone casually. “Oh! You mean that!” Tristan spread his hands, laughing helplessly. “She must have blocked me again. Looks like I’m sleeping on the couch tonight!” I did used to block him after arguments. But I never thought he wouldn’t even make a single call to me. I held back my tears. So this was what it felt like when love and hate intertwined—pain piercing to the bone. When he got home, Tristan carefully prepared a candlelit dinner. He arranged my favorite roses. This was his unique way of apologizing. “Bella, come out and eat!” But he called again and again. Still no one answered. I floated beside him, listening to him sigh. “Bella, if you’re angry at me, you can say it directly. There’s no need to deliberately eat the chestnuts and take it out on an innocent person.” “If something happens to Aria, neither you nor I can bear that responsibility.” Aria also said with red eyes, adding fuel to the fire: “Tristan, Bella didn’t do it on purpose.” “But I peeled those chestnuts one by one for the mountain god. My nails are all split…” “Watching her waste them like that, it hurts my heart.” As she spoke, she threw herself into Tristan’s arms, squeezing out two tears. Tristan looked down, his eyes instantly reddening with heartache at her aggrieved appearance. “Aria, don’t cry. She’s probably just throwing a tantrum again. Maybe she went to her parents’ house.” I trembled with rage. But I could no longer grab his collar and demand answers. He clearly said I was his lifelong love. Why didn’t he believe me? Why did he believe whatever Aria said? Aria sat across from him, her face full of smugness. Accompanying him to enjoy this romantic candlelit dinner. As if Aria were more like his wife, more like the mistress of this house than I was. And I was just an unwanted outsider. But late at night at midnight, looking at our wedding photo on the wall, Tristan tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He finally called my mom. “Mom, um… did Bella come home?”

“She had a fight with me and ran away from home. I’m worried about how to coax her back.” My parents laughed and teased on the other end: “That’s what you get for spoiling her. How could she really be angry at you?” “What couple doesn’t fight at the head of the bed and make up at the foot? Just coax her a bit more.” “Bella has been sensible since childhood. Five days from now is her birthday—we’ll come over and talk to her.” My heart skipped a beat. Would they discover my body? Aria was eavesdropping at the door, slowly curling her lips into a smile. Suddenly the circuit breaker went ‘snap.’ “Mom, Dad, I think the power just went out here. Let me check. I’ll talk to you later.” After hanging up, he turned off his phone. The ‘humble and gentle’ mask on his face instantly disappeared. Replaced by cold indifference. Too bad no one knew that the wife he described as throwing tantrums was already dead in that cold storage. Her body had already started to rot and stink. “Bella, did you trip the breaker?” But he couldn’t hear my response. Only deadly silence. A faint stench drifted out from the basement. Tristan wrinkled his nose, his face full of disgust. He held a flashlight and knocked on the cold storage door. “Bella? Bella Dream?” “Are you in there?” The breaker had tripped, the cold storage was no longer refrigerating. A swarm of rats smelled the stench and rushed in through the ventilation ducts. They frantically pounced on me in the corner. But he couldn’t see any of it. Tristan knocked twice, then waited a few seconds outside the door. A rat suddenly scurried past his feet. Aria ran out from the bedroom sleepily. “Bella is deliberately hiding from you!” “She’s hiding in some corner watching, watching you worry and panic over her.” “When she stops being angry, she’ll definitely come find you.” Tristan nodded, seeming to believe I was deliberately avoiding him. The fifth day after my death. The iron door of the cold storage could no longer contain the stench. Tristan, who was taking a shower in the bathroom, smelled it and couldn’t help but frown. He inadvertently glanced at the pregnancy test in the trash can. Two lines. Tristan’s furrowed brow gradually relaxed. Joy flickered in his eyes. “Pregnant!” “Really! Running around while pregnant! So irresponsible!” Just as he was getting happy, Aria suddenly rushed in. She snatched the pregnancy test from his hand, deliberately pouting. “Tristan, that’s mine.” “Don’t worry, I’ll go to the hospital to get rid of this baby and won’t tell Bella…” Tristan tiredly stroked her head. “I’m sorry, Aria! I was drunk that night and mistook you for Bella… that’s why I felt so guilty toward you. That’s why I treated her that way…” The two snuggled together. The tender scene of mutual affection deeply pierced me. But floating in mid-air, I still saw the triumphant smile at the corner of Aria’s mouth. After he coaxed Aria to sleep, he pulled out my designer perfume. “It stinks!” He irritably raised the perfume and sprayed it everywhere. Trying to cover up the stench. “Which corner has a dead rat?” But he was too lazy to go look in the basement again. And I died in the basement cold storage, one body, two lives.

On my birthday, my parents came to visit. As soon as my mom walked in, she praised the wedding photo on the wall. “Look how beautiful this is, what a perfect match!” Tristan looked at me in the wedding photo, touched his nose, and smiled sweetly. “Bella didn’t mind that I was dirt poor back then!” I floated above their heads. Remembering how I willingly endured hardship with him, I now found it utterly ironic. Mom suddenly furrowed her brow and wandered through the rooms. “What’s this smell… so foul!” She muttered to herself, coming to the basement door. “It’s coming from down there…” Tristan covered his nose. There really was a smell of dead rats that even perfume couldn’t cover. “Looks like Bella is still angry at me and wants to prank me.” “It’s fine, I’ll go clean the basement later.” Watching him lie and slander me without even blinking, I was so angry my chest heaved up and down. Mom’s expression changed as she nodded. “It’s our fault for spoiling Bella.” “Tristan is successful in his career, has a good temper, and dotes on Bella. He’s a rare good man.” “With Bella married to him, I can rest easy.” Tristan’s image as the good son-in-law was flawless. Even my parents were completely fooled. Dad shook his head angrily. “This child… always causing trouble.” “Tristan is so busy with work, yet he has to indulge her tantrums.” “No way! Call her over here. I need to give her a piece of my mind!” Aria seized the opportunity to come out and comfort them. They chatted happily in the living room. As if Aria were the mistress of this house. No one noticed me. She squeezed in, affectionately holding my mom’s hand. “Mr.Dream, Mrs.Dream, I’ll help you talk to Bella.” “Mrs.Dream, can I chat with you? You remind me of my mom!” “Would you accept me as your goddaughter?” My mom readily agreed, then suddenly frowned. “I have no problem with it, but we need to ask Bella’s opinion.” “Bella is pregnant. We promise not to disturb her rest!” “Right! We haven’t seen our precious daughter in so long!” The warmth on Tristan’s face instantly faded. He frowned and asked again: “Mom, who did you say is pregnant?” Mom smiled and repeated. “Bella, didn’t she tell you?” Tristan suddenly remembered something, his face turning pale. The faint stench grew stronger and stronger. Irritation flashed in his eyes. “Why is it… so foul?” Aria immediately waved her hands, blocking their way. “It’s nothing, just meat that rotted in the cold storage…” Tristan nodded too. “Rats are running wild in the basement. Better not go down there yet.” But Mom’s eyes were determined. “What’s to be afraid of! A few little rats won’t eat anyone!” “That stubborn girl Bella must be hiding down there. She doesn’t even mind the stench!” She even went around him, heading straight for the basement. Tristan tried to stop her. “Mom, don’t go down there. The rats will bite!” “Come back up! If something happens to you, Bella will definitely blame me!” Aria’s face turned deathly pale as she timidly grabbed my mom’s hand. But Mom sensed something was wrong and shook off her hand. With a serious expression, she opened the cold storage door. Instantly, a nauseating stench burst out.

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My wife Eva was lying on my operating table, pregnant with her first love’s child for the eighth time. This time, I didn’t lose control like the previous seven times. Instead, I calmly sutured her wounds and explained the post-operative precautions. Having performed abortions for Eva so many times, I’d long become the laughingstock of the entire hospital. After the surgery, Eva grabbed my sleeve and sobbed, “George, this time Chris was drugged with an aphrodisiac. I had to help him… Don’t worry, you’re my husband. I’ll only have children for you.” I shook off her hand and walked out of the ward. Before our marriage, we’d signed an agreement. I would give Eva eight chances to make mistakes. Now those chances were used up. The agreement was now in effect, and her billion-dollar fortune would transfer directly to my name. Like the previous seven times, I came to her ward carrying that white medical box. When Eva saw me, she immediately pushed herself up to sit. Her tone carried undisguised urgency. “George, did you extract the cord blood?” This was the only question she asked after each surgery. Chris had a hereditary blood disease. She claimed she was thinking of me. But the truth was simply to extract cord blood from the unformed embryo—to have a constant, sufficient supply for Chris. I said nothing, simply setting it down gently in the exact spot she’d specified. Before her eighth abortion, we’d once had a child of our own. Back then, to find a match for Chris, she hadn’t hesitated to induce labor on her three-month pregnancy—all for that slim possibility of compatibility. When I discovered the truth, we had a terrible fight. In the heat of our argument, I rushed out and got into a car accident that nearly crippled my right hand. After nearly three years of grueling rehabilitation, I finally stood in an operating room again. She’d held me then, trembling and sobbing, choking out a vow: “George, never again. We’ll have our own child.” I believed her. But in the end, my trust was misplaced. Seeing my silence, clear impatience flashed through her eyes. A young nurse, reading the room, quickly spoke up: “Eva, don’t worry. Everything you asked for, George has already arranged.” Only then did her expression relax slightly, showing a hint of relief. After several consecutive surgeries, I was utterly exhausted. I didn’t want to play along with this charade anymore and turned to leave. But she suddenly called out, her eyes reddening instantly. “I’m sorry, George. I swear this is the last time. Once I’ve recovered, we’ll have a baby right away, okay?” My steps halted. A baby? After eight abortions, her uterine wall was already as fragile as paper. Without my years of desperate effort to treat her and perform her surgeries, she would never be able to become a mother again. Just then, the ward door crashed open! Chris burst in, face flushed, swinging his fist at me. “You bastard! She’s your wife and you had the heart to perform this kind of surgery on her! How many times has it been? Do you realize you’re committing a sin?” I adjusted my crooked glasses and raised my own fist. Before I could fight back, a dull pain shot through the back of my head. I turned around—Eva had grabbed the cup from the bedside table and smashed it against my head. Warm blood gushed from the back of my skull. She jumped out of bed, spreading her arms to shield Chris protectively behind her. “Enough! George, how long are you going to keep this up? Why did you hit Chris? You know perfectly well Chris has underlying health conditions—emotional stress affects his condition! Do you have any medical ethics at all? Hitting a patient—do you even deserve to be a doctor?” The accusations rained down like hail. I covered my bleeding head, my eyes burning painfully. But what hurt more was my heart, torn bloody by her. My throat tight, I forced out each word: “He hit me first.” What I got in return was an even more self-righteous rebuttal. “So what if he hit you? You removed the child from my belly, but it was also his flesh and blood! You killed his child.” But I remembered—every single time, it was she who knelt before me begging for the surgery. Looking at her righteous face, I suddenly didn’t even have the energy to argue. After all, she’d performed this gaslighting routine too many times. Blood dripped continuously through my fingers. The young nurse beside me turned pale with fright. She quickly wheeled over a wheelchair: “George, you’re badly hurt. Let me take you to get bandaged!” Just as I was about to sit down, Chris suddenly groaned and collapsed softly into Eva’s arms. The wheelchair that had just been brought over was immediately seized by Eva and pushed in front of Chris. “Chris, sit down quick! I’ll take you to see a doctor!” The young nurse tried to intervene, looking distressed.

“This wheelchair was prepared for George. You can’t—” Eva glanced at me like she was granting charity, then scolded the nurse: “Can’t you see who the real patient is? He’s a doctor—what could possibly be wrong with him? If you keep blocking us, I’ll report your hospital for discrimination, refusing emergency care, and competing with patients for resources!” Watching how nervously she protected Chris, I couldn’t remember the last time she’d defended me like that. The atmosphere was cold as iron. Eva forcefully wheeled the chair away. The young nurse looked at me pleadingly. I said flatly, “It’s fine. Not gonna die yet.” Just after I’d had my wound treated, Eva sent someone with something. There was even a note in her handwriting attached: *[George, I’m sorry. Chris just lost a child and his emotions aren’t stable. Please be understanding. After all, I agreed to remove the baby for your sake.]* *[Chris isn’t feeling well right now. I need to stay with him. I’ll come back later.]* I opened the container—it was a bowl of century egg and pork congee. I let out a bitter smile. She’d actually forgotten I was allergic to century eggs. I remembered once accidentally eating century eggs—my whole body broke out in hives, my breathing grew rapid, I nearly suffocated. When she saw me like that, her eyes had turned red with panic. She’d taken me to the hospital overnight, kneeling before the doctor and crying like a child. Just a few short years. After Chris returned to the country, everything changed. I returned to our cold, empty home and slowly began sorting through our belongings. Looking through the letters she’d once written me—page after page of burning, passionate words. My heart trembled uncontrollably. I thought if she came home tonight and properly apologized, I wouldn’t need to be so ruthless. Divorce would be enough. After all, I could support myself. I waited for her in the living room all night. She never came back. It wasn’t until the next day that I saw Chris’s Instagram. His latest post was a grid of nine photos, centered on a brand-new Porsche. The caption read: “Gift from Eva. She said it was to make up for aborting our child. Since her attitude is so sincere, I forgive her.” In the photos, his face was pressed against Eva’s, their smiles glaring. The comments section had exploded. Mutual friends who recognized Eva were condemning Chris as a homewrecker. And another user with an obvious Eva profile picture replied below, her words fierce and certain: “He’s not the other man. The unloved one is the other man. If you keep spouting nonsense, I don’t mind reporting you to the police.” After spending the entire night away, she had thoroughly extinguished the last bit of warmth remaining in my heart. I calmly organized my resignation letter and got up to head to the hospital. Just as I reached the hospital entrance, I ran into Eva approaching with a flushed face. She didn’t even notice the gauze wrapped around the back of my head before launching into an interrogation. “Did you hire someone to make that Instagram post yesterday? Because of your stunt, everyone’s attacking Chris now! I want you to apologize to him immediately!” She shoved an Instagram post full of hate comments in my face. Looking at her, I felt only absurdity. That bragging post was clearly something Chris himself had posted to Instagram for attention. Now that it had sparked outrage, it had become my fault. Before, when colleagues stood up for me, Eva would show up at the hospital every day to make scenes—cursing them out like a shrew in public, even spreading sexual rumors about a male colleague that caused problems in his marriage. Over time, no one dared speak up for me anymore. Who would dare meddle now? A self-mocking smile tugged at my lips. “You should go ask him yourself. After all, who else could log into his account?” She seemed suddenly enlightened and froze. She’d only taken a few steps when she turned back. “You’re still angry? Just because I didn’t come home last night?” I said nothing. Her tone suddenly softened, taking on a familiar cadence. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I roughed it outside for the night. Don’t misunderstand. You work so hard normally—if I’d come back that late, you definitely wouldn’t have slept well. I felt bad for you.” The first time she’d said this, I’d been overwhelmingly moved. But ever since I discovered that the nights she claimed she “didn’t want to wake me” were actually spent by Chris’s mother’s hospital bed, too afraid Chris would get tired—willing to suffer herself, using her “privileged status” to personally care for them night after night—these words had become nothing but mockery. After a long silence, she finally noticed the gauze on my forehead. Her eyes flickered. Just as she was about to speak, her phone rang sharply in her pocket. She glanced at the screen, her expression changing. “Chris? Don’t panic, I’ll be right there!” She didn’t even finish a complete sentence to me before clutching her phone and rushing off. I’d thought she might actually be willing to believe me. But shortly after she left, I saw Chris’s Instagram post: “Thanks to Eva for the villa gift. She told me not to worry about bad people, and I’m obediently listening.” I clicked on his profile, deleted and blocked him. It didn’t matter anymore.

The next day, I was packing my luggage when the department director suddenly called. When I arrived at the hospital, the office door was already surrounded by people. Things came flying at me. Before I could react, someone raised a bottle of sulfuric acid and threw it at me. Though I dodged to the side, the liquid still splashed onto the back of my hand, sending searing pain through it. “Quack! My child went to the ICU after taking your medicine! Give me back my child’s life!” Heart-wrenching wails filled the entire corridor. My head buzzed. After all these years, I’d always been meticulous with my work, never making mistakes. How could a child possibly have ended up in the ICU from taking the wrong medication I prescribed? Enduring the chaos and the stinging pain in my hand, I pulled up the surveillance footage. In the video, Chris secretly switched out the medication I’d prescribed for the child. My entire body went cold. I headed straight for his ward. Eva was feeding him soup, her movements gentle. “Chris!” Eva immediately stood up, using her body to block him: “What are you doing?” A posture of absolute protection, as if terrified I might do something to him. From beginning to end, she never noticed I was still injured. Suppressing my fury, I shoved my phone in front of her face. Eva glanced at it, her expression abnormally cold. “Chris didn’t do it on purpose. He probably just accidentally grabbed the wrong medicine.” “You’re the doctor. You bear ultimate responsibility for the patient. Consider this a lesson. It’s lucky no one died. In fact, you should be thanking Chris.” Any reasonable person could see this was deliberate switching, deliberate framing! Yet for Chris’s sake, she lied with her eyes wide open. “Fine. We’ll let the police decide.” The moment the word “police” left my mouth, Chris immediately dropped to his knees before me, tears streaming down his face. “George, I really didn’t mean to! The two bottles looked similar—I accidentally mixed them up. Please don’t call the police!” Eva immediately helped him up, glaring at me. “George, do you have to be so petty? If you’re going to report him, report me too! I was the one who told him to get the medicine!” “Hospitals mix up medications all the time, don’t they? If you really pursue this, it changes the whole nature of it. Are you trying to destroy him?” As she spoke, she snatched the medicine bottle from my hand. She raised it high, her face showing ruthless determination. “You’re saying the child got sick from this medicine? Then today I’ll destroy it! Without evidence, let’s see how you investigate!” My pupils constricted sharply: “Don’t!” That bottle contained medication to repair her uterus! The formula was difficult to compound. If she smashed it, her uterus might truly be beyond saving! But she’d already swung her arm down without a moment’s hesitation. “Crash!” The bottle shattered, pills scattering across the floor. She lifted her foot and ground them beneath her shoe until they became dirty powder. In that moment, my heart was ground to pieces along with them. Looking at her again, I saw her tightly embracing Chris. All my boiling emotions suddenly drained away completely. I took a deep breath, my voice terrifyingly calm. “Fine, Eva. I hope you won’t regret this.”

After leaving the hospital, I called my lawyer. “That agreement—when does it take effect?” “Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. The assets will automatically transfer to your account.” After hanging up, I booked myself a flight out. My phone buzzed. Eva had sent a message: *”George, stop being angry, okay? I’ll spend some money at the hospital, pull some strings to smooth things over.”* *”You’ll still be the attending physician. No one can touch your position. Just don’t hurt Chris.”* I didn’t reply. Instead, I deleted all her contact information. Early the next morning, I was dragging my suitcase to the airport when Eva suddenly appeared, her hand clamping down on my wrist like a vice. “Was it you?” Before I could speak, I was roughly shoved into the back seat by her two men. I was dragged to a mountaintop, yanked from the car like a dead weight. “You released that surveillance footage online, didn’t you? George, when did you become so disobedient? I already told you I’d handle your situation. Why did you have to smear Chris?” “To teach you not to be so clever in the future, you’re going to the bungee platform to cool off!” I froze. This wasn’t my doing at all. But she gave me no chance to explain, ordering them to tie me up directly. The rope tightened. I was hoisted up, suspended outside the bungee platform hundreds of meters high. Terror crashed over me like a tidal wave. She knew I was afraid of heights. As a child, when my father’s promotion made others jealous, I was kidnapped and pushed from a tall building. Though there was an air cushion below, the sensation of weightlessness and near-death became a nightmare I couldn’t escape for years. She knew all of this. “No! Eva! I’m scared! Please!” I struggled desperately. She walked coldly to the platform edge, looking down at me. “George, if you do something wrong, you must accept punishment.” “Do you know? You drove Chris to the point of suicide! If I hadn’t discovered it early, he’d be a puddle of flesh right now!” “I clearly told you how important he is to me. Why do you insist on hurting him?” She waved her hand. The next second, I was shoved down hard. The rope bound to my ankles snapped taut with tremendous force, violently stopping my plummeting body. Then brutally yanking me back up! I hadn’t finished coughing from breaking the water’s surface before the weightless sensation hit again. I don’t know how many times I was tortured like this. Just as my consciousness was fading, my phone received a text message. *[Congratulations, George. Your agreement officially took effect today at 9:00 AM. All contracted assets have been transferred to your designated account.]* I forced out a bitter smile. Above, Eva seemed satisfied. Before leaving, she instructed her subordinate: “Let him stay here overnight. Release him after he’s calmed down.” She left with her people. As soon as she was gone, the man above began cutting the rope with a knife. The rope grew thinner and thinner. It snapped. My entire body crashed toward the water’s surface. Lake water flooded my ears and nose. Was I going to die? The next day, at the hospital. Eva had cared for Chris all night. Once he fell asleep, she rubbed her temples. “Release George. One night should be enough for him to clear his head.” Just then, her assistant rushed in, panic written across her face. “Eva! The sir is missing! We only found cut rope at the bungee platform—the person’s gone!” “Also, the bank urgently notified us that all your accounts, equity, and assets were completely cleared and transferred at nine o’clock this morning! The accounts are empty now!” The bowl in Eva’s hand fell to the floor. All color drained from her face.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “357924”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #校园School