Category: English

I was helping my husband deal with traffic violations when I logged into the DMV app and noticed something odd. Besides our ten-year-old family sedan, a red Porsche Panamera was also registered in the system. The owner of the luxury car, with local license plates, was an unfamiliar woman. The remarks section brazenly displayed the jarring words: “Daddy’s Little Princess.” Twenty-two years of marriage instantly shattered before my eyes. The image of my daughter passing away seventeen years ago due to a thirty-thousand-dollar surgery fee suddenly surfaced. I remembered him kneeling in the hospital corridor, slapping himself, repeating that he was useless and couldn’t save our daughter. My hands trembling, I exited the app and searched for the car owner’s social media account. Half an hour ago, she had just posted a picture of her new car, bragging that it was a twentieth birthday gift from her dad, with the location tagged in the city’s most exclusive luxury residential area. 1. I stared at the location on the screen. Summit Gardens. The city’s wealthiest district, with an average price of twelve thousand dollars per square foot. I clicked on the profile of the girl named Ashley Chen. It was entirely filled with daily displays of wealth. “Dad took me to a Black Pearl restaurant, five hundred a person, but the food was just so-so.” “Dad bought me a limited edition Chanel bag, a rare style in the whole city.” “Today’s my eighteenth birthday celebration; Dad booked out the yacht club.” I scrolled through each post. My fingers were ice-cold, trembling incessantly. In every post, a man appeared. Sometimes it was a hand wearing a Rolex Submariner. Sometimes it was a broad back. That watch, that back—I knew them all too well. David Chen. I scrolled down to an older post. The timestamp was seventeen years ago. It was a baby’s full-moon photo. The caption read: “Ashley’s full moon! Dad says I’m his little princess.” Seventeen years ago. That same month, seventeen years ago, my daughter, Cici, lay in the ICU. The doctor said that if we paid the thirty thousand dollar surgery fee, our child could live. David Chen knelt on the floor. Slapping himself on both sides of his face. “I’m useless! I’ve borrowed from every relative and friend, and I can’t get a single dime!” “Honey, let’s give up. Cici is suffering too much.” He embraced me, weeping uncontrollably. Cici passed away. I held her cold body, crying until I fainted. David Chen swore to me then. “Honey, from now on, my life is yours. I will work tirelessly to make money and never let you suffer again.” Now. The money he worked tirelessly to earn had become a Porsche. It had become a luxury home in Summit Gardens. It had become a girl named Ashley Chen. The sound of a key turning in the lock came from the door. I quickly exited the account and locked my phone. David Chen pushed the door open. He was carrying a carton of discounted strawberries. “Honey, I’m home. The supermarket had strawberries on sale today, so I bought you a carton.” He changed into his slippers and walked over to me. “Did you take care of the traffic violation points?” I looked at him. Fifty years old, a bit bald, wearing a faded shirt. To anyone, he looked like a devoted and frugal good man. “Yes, it’s done,” my voice was steady. “That’s good,” he sighed in relief. “This old Jetta, the brakes are getting worse and worse. Almost rear-ended someone today.” “Then let’s get a new car,” I said. David Chen immediately frowned. “Replace what car! A car costs tens of thousands of dollars.” “We don’t have money for a new car right now.” “The company accounts don’t even have ten thousand dollars in liquid funds.” “I’m out there every day, begging and pleading for business, isn’t it all for our retirement?” He placed the strawberries on the table. “Don’t always be so extravagant. These strawberries are twenty dollars a pound; I even think that’s expensive.” I looked at the carton of strawberries. Some were already rotting. Ashley Chen’s Porsche, one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. My strawberries, twenty dollars. “David Chen.” “Hm?” He picked up a strawberry and popped it into his mouth. “Where were you today?” His chewing paused. “Meeting clients, of course. That construction boss from the Southside is a real pain. I spent the whole afternoon drinking tea with him; my stomach feels like it’s been worn through.” Southside. Summit Gardens was in the Northside. The Porsche center was also in the Northside. “Did you close the deal with the client?” “No. They said our quote was too high.” David Chen sighed. “Business is so tough these days. Honey, could you spot me for next month’s living expenses from your salary?” I watched him put on his act. Seventeen years. He had deceived me for seventeen years with that very face. My salary was eight thousand dollars a month. All of it went to utility bills, groceries, and mortgage payments. He only gave me two thousand dollars a month, claiming the company was struggling and could only afford that small base salary. I believed him. I hadn’t bought a single piece of clothing over two hundred dollars. “Okay,” I said. David Chen smiled. “You’re the best, honey. Once I get through this rough patch, I’ll definitely buy you a gold necklace.” His phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and his face instantly changed. “The client is calling; I’ll take it on the balcony.” He grabbed his phone and quickly walked to the balcony, closing the sliding door behind him. I stood up. Walked to the balcony door. Through the glass, I heard his hushed voice. “Ashley, didn’t Daddy just transfer fifty thousand to you?” “What? You found a watch you like?” “Okay, okay, Daddy will transfer the money to you tomorrow. Don’t be mad, Daddy loves you very much.” He turned around. I stood behind the glass door. He startled, nearly dropping his phone. He pulled open the door, forcing a smile. “Client, rushing for an order.” I looked at him. My gaze drifted past his shoulder, to the night sky behind him. “David Chen.” “What is it?” “I just checked that traffic violation record.” He tensed up. “What about the violation?” I stared into his eyes. “The location of the violation was the Porsche Center in the Northside.” 2. David Chen’s face froze. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “You must have read it wrong,” he forced a laugh. “My old Jetta, what would it be doing at a Porsche Center?” “Really.” “It must be a system GPS error. This navigation system often drifts.” He walked over and put his arm around my shoulder. “Honey, don’t be so suspicious all the time. My heart only beats for you in this life.” “After Cici left us, I lost all motivation to live. If it wasn’t for you, I would have given up long ago.” He brought up Cici again. Every time I questioned him, he would mention Cici. Using a dead child to cover up his lies. I pushed his hand away. “I’m going to take a shower.” I walked into the bathroom and locked the door. Turned on the faucet. Water splashed loudly. I took out my phone and dialed my cousin Mark’s number. Mark worked in the traffic police department. “Mark.” “Hey, Auntie. What’s up?” “Help me look up a license plate number.” I recited the Porsche’s license plate. “Look up the owner’s information, and the car’s travel history. Focus on this afternoon.” “Okay, give me five minutes.” Three minutes later, Mark called back. “Auntie, I found it.” “The owner is named Ashley Chen. I sent you her ID number on WeChat.” “This car left the Porsche Center at 2 PM today and went straight to Summit Gardens.” “Oh, and this car was bought in full. The payment account name is David Chen.” I leaned against the cold tiles. “Got it. Thank you.” “Auntie, why did Uncle buy someone else a Porsche? Who is this Ashley Chen?” “I don’t know.” I hung up the phone. Opened the ID number Mark had sent. Ashley Chen. Date of birth: August 15, 2004. August 15, 2004. Cici passed away on August 12, 2004. Three days. Three days after Cici died. Ashley Chen was born. While he was weeping hysterically in the hospital corridor, his other woman was in the delivery room giving birth to his child. He wouldn’t even spend thirty thousand dollars to save Cici. But he had money to book a VIP delivery room for another woman. I covered my mouth. Preventing myself from making a sound. Tears fell onto the back of my hand, feeling scalding hot. I finished my shower and came out. David Chen was already in bed. He was looking at his phone, a smile on his face. Hearing me come out, he immediately clutched his phone to his chest. “Finished showering?” “Yes.” “Go to sleep soon; you have to get up early tomorrow for business.” He turned over, his back to me. I lay beside him. Listening to his even breathing. The next morning. David Chen left. I took the day off. I took a taxi to Summit Gardens. I sat down at a cafe near the community entrance. Ordered an Americano. The window seat offered a perfect view of the community’s entrance and exit. 10 AM. A red Porsche drove out. The windows were down. A young girl was in the driver’s seat. Wearing sunglasses, with exquisite makeup. In the passenger seat sat a woman. In her forties, very well-maintained, dressed in designer clothes. I had seen that woman’s face before. Seventeen years ago. City People’s Hospital. The cardiology nurses’ station. The nurse who was responsible for giving Cici her injections. Sarah Porte. On the day Cici died, Sarah Porte stood beside David Chen, handing him a tissue. “Mr. Chen, please accept my condolences.” Her voice had been so gentle back then. I watched the Porsche drive away. Took out my phone and looked up Sarah Porte’s name. There was a chain of beauty salons in the city called Elite Beauty. Legal representative: Sarah Porte. Registered capital: one million dollars. Date of establishment: 2005. 2005. The same year David Chen opened his construction company. He told me the company was started with high-interest loans. He used to lie awake at night, worried, losing handfuls of hair. To help him pay off the interest, I worked three jobs a day. Daytime, cashier at the supermarket. Evenings, selling at the night market. Weekends, handing out flyers. I worked myself into the hospital twice with stomach bleeding. David Chen held my hand, crying. “Honey, when I make money, I’ll definitely give you a good life.” His good life. He gave it to Sarah Porte. He gave it to Ashley Chen. I took a sip of my coffee. It was very bitter. My phone vibrated. It was a WeChat message from David Chen. “Honey, I won’t be home for lunch today. Have a big client to meet; might have to drink a bit.” I replied with one word. “Okay.” Then I stood up. Paid the bill. Walked out. Took a taxi to the flagship store of Elite Beauty. 3. Elite Beauty was located in a bustling area of the city center. A three-story storefront, lavishly decorated. I walked in. The receptionist immediately approached. “Hello, madam, do you have an appointment?” She sized me up. My old down jacket, my faded jeans. A hint of disdain flickered in her eyes. “I’m looking for Sarah Porte,” I said. “May I ask who you are?” “I’m David Chen’s wife.” The receptionist froze. Her face changed color. “Please wait a moment.” She picked up the desk phone and dialed a number. Spoke a few hushed words. Two minutes later. A woman in a business suit walked down from upstairs. It wasn’t Sarah Porte. It was Ashley Chen. She walked towards me in high heels. Took off her sunglasses. Sizing me up. The disdain in her eyes was even more obvious than the receptionist’s. “You’re Anya Lin?” She called me by my first name. “I am.” Ashley Chen chuckled. “I thought you were someone important. Turns out you’re just a hag.” She crossed her arms, circling me once. “How many years have you worn these clothes? Are they pilling?” “My dad, honestly, why wouldn’t he even buy you new clothes?” “Oh, I forgot. My dad said you’re extremely stingy, so buying you nice things would just be a waste.” I looked at her. Twenty years old. Young, beautiful, and arrogant. “Where’s Sarah Porte?” I asked. “My mom’s getting a spa; she’s too busy for riff-raff.” Ashley Chen walked over to the sofa and sat down. Crossed her legs. “What do you want with my mom? Money?” She pulled a card from her bag. Tossed it onto the coffee table. “Here’s ten thousand dollars. Go buy some decent clothes. Stop embarrassing my dad.” I didn’t look at the card. I looked at her. “You call David Chen ‘Dad’.” “Yeah.” Ashley Chen raised an eyebrow. “My biological father, is there a problem?” “Do you know he’s married?” “I know,” Ashley Chen said indifferently. “So what? My dad doesn’t love you at all. He just pities you.” “Pities me?” “Yeah. You can’t even have a child. One died of illness.” Ashley Chen’s smile was vicious. “My dad said you’re just a barren old hen. If he didn’t pity you, he would have divorced you ages ago.” Her words pierced my heart. “Barren old hen.” I repeated the words. “Did David Chen say this?” “Of course.” Ashley Chen was triumphant. “My dad loves me very much. He says I’m his only little princess. What are you, anyway?” I took out my phone. Tapped record. “I’ve recorded everything you just said.” Ashley Chen’s face changed. She abruptly stood up. “What are you doing! Delete it!” She rushed over to snatch my phone. I stepped back. She missed, twisted her ankle, and fell to the ground. “Ah!” she screamed. The beauty salon’s security guards immediately rushed over. Helped her up. Ashley Chen pointed at me, furious. “Get her out of here! Now!” Two security guards walked toward me. I put away my phone. “No need to escort me. I’ll leave on my own.” I turned and walked out of the beauty salon. Behind me, Ashley Chen’s insults followed. “Pauper! Old hag! You’ll regret this!” I walked to the street corner. Dialed David Chen’s number. It rang for a long time before he answered. “Hello, honey, what’s wrong? I’m drinking with clients.” The background was very quiet. No sounds of a noisy drinking party. “David Chen, I’m at the Elite Beauty salon entrance.” The other end of the line instantly fell silent. After a full ten seconds. David Chen’s voice, suppressed with anger, came through. “What are you doing there?” “Meeting your little princess.” “Anya Lin! Are you crazy?!” he roared. “What are you causing a scene in someone else’s shop for?!” “Someone else’s shop?” I scoffed. “Isn’t that the shop you opened for Sarah Porte?” “What nonsense are you talking about?!” David Chen was furious. “Sarah Porte is my friend! Ashley is my friend’s daughter! Don’t be unreasonable here!” “A friend’s daughter calls you Dad?” “A friend’s daughter, and you paid full cash for her Porsche?” “David Chen, do you think I’m an idiot?” David Chen took a deep breath. His tone suddenly softened. “Honey, listen to me. Things aren’t what you think.” “Just come home first. I’ll be right back. We’ll talk at home.” I hung up the phone. Went home. I opened my laptop. I work in finance. Although David Chen’s company accounts haven’t been managed by me these past few years, I still have administrator access to view them. I logged into the system. And started checking the books. I looked up the transactions from 2004. That year, Cici fell ill. David Chen said he couldn’t borrow any money. I scrolled to August 10, 2004. Two days before Cici died. There was a thirty-thousand-dollar transfer recorded from the company account. Recipient: Sarah Porte. Notes: House purchase payment. I stared at those words. Thirty thousand dollars. Cici’s surgery fee was exactly thirty thousand dollars. He took the money that could have saved her life and used it to buy a house for his mistress! 4. The door was violently flung open. David Chen rushed in, panting. He was sweating profusely, his tie askew. Seeing me sitting at the computer, he strode over. “Anya Lin! What the hell is wrong with you today?!” He slammed my laptop shut. “What were you doing causing a scene at Sarah Porte’s shop? Do you know how difficult you’ve made things for me?!” I sat in the chair. Looking at him. “Thirty thousand.” David Chen froze. “What thirty thousand?” “August 10, 2004. You transferred thirty thousand dollars to Sarah Porte.” I looked into his eyes. “That was Cici’s life savings.” David Chen’s face instantly drained of color. He took a step back. His gaze shifting evasively. “You… you checked my accounts?” “That was Cici’s life.” My voice was soft, yet trembling. “You’re talking nonsense!” David Chen suddenly raised his voice. “That was money I lent to Sarah Porte! Her family had an emergency at the time!” “An emergency?” I laughed out loud. “Does buying a house count as an emergency?” “David Chen, Cici was lying in the ICU, waiting for money to save her life. You took that money to buy a house for another woman.” “Are you even human?” David Chen flew into a rage. He pointed a finger at my nose. “Don’t you dare bring up old grievances here! The doctors said that with Cici’s illness, even with surgery, she wouldn’t have lived for many years!” “Thirty thousand dollars thrown in would have been a waste!” “I saved that money for our future!” *A waste.* He called his own daughter’s life a waste. I stood up. Slapped him across the face. *Slap!* The sound was sharp. David Chen clutched his face, looking at me in disbelief. “You dared to hit me?” He raised his hand and shoved me hard. I hit the corner of the table. A sharp pain in my waist. “Anya Lin, I’ve tolerated you for too long!” David Chen pointed at me, yelling abuses. “Look at the mess you are now! Always wearing a gloomy face, like a dead person!” “I’m out there making money to support the family every day, what else can you do besides annoy me?” “I’m telling you, Sarah Porte is a hundred times gentler than you! And Ashley is more obedient than your short-lived daughter!” *Short-lived daughter.* He finally spoke his true feelings. I steadied myself by holding the table. I didn’t cry. My tears had dried up seventeen years ago. David Chen panted. He adjusted his clothes. His tone suddenly turned cold and harsh. “Since we’ve laid all our cards on the table, I won’t hide it from you anymore.” “The company’s capital chain is broken. It owes the bank ten million dollars.” “If I don’t plug this hole soon, I’ll go to jail.” He looked at me. “Mortgage your parents’ old house. Take out three million dollars to save the company first.” I looked at him. It felt absurd. “You bought Ashley Chen a one-point-five-million-dollar Porsche, and you opened a ten-million-dollar beauty salon for Sarah Porte.” “Now you’re asking me to sell my parents’ house to save you?” David Chen was self-righteous. “The company is our joint property! If the company goes bankrupt, you’ll be on the hook for the debts too!” “That house is just sitting empty anyway, what’s wrong with using it in an emergency?” “If you don’t put it up, you’re just heartless! You’re a cold-blooded animal!” *Cold-blooded animal.* I took out my phone. Opened Ashley Chen’s social media feed. She had just updated her status. “Daddy says a girl should live in a penthouse. Thanks, Dad, for the river-view apartment! Love you to death!” The post included a picture of the property deed for a river-view apartment. Name: Ashley Chen. Time: This morning. I shoved the screen into David Chen’s face. “Is this what you mean by a broken capital chain?” David Chen’s eyes widened as he saw the screen. His gaze flickered with panic for a second. Then turned to anger. “I promised her that a long time ago! That money can’t be touched!” “Anya Lin, I’m asking you one last time. Are you mortgaging the house or not?” I looked at him. “No, I’m not.” David Chen gritted his teeth. “Fine. You just wait.” He slammed the door shut and left. The room returned to silence. I took out my phone. Dialed a number. “Hello, is this Mr. Jenkins, the lawyer?” Mr. Jenkins was a university classmate of mine, specializing in divorce and economic dispute cases. “Anya Lin? What’s wrong?” “I want a divorce. And I need to investigate David Chen’s hidden and transferred marital assets.” “Okay, bring all your documents to my law firm tomorrow.” Mr. Jenkins paused. “By the way, Anya Lin, there’s something I need to tell you in advance.” “What is it?” “Those assets under David Chen’s name you asked me to investigate earlier. I asked a friend to check.” “He not only bought a house and a car for that Ashley Chen.” “He also, half a month ago, gratuitously transferred eighty percent of your company’s shares to a woman named Sarah Porte.” I clutched my phone tightly. “And,” Mr. Jenkins’s voice was very low. “I found Ashley Chen’s birth certificate.” “The father’s column… it doesn’t say David Chen at all.”

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I’m the designated “poor kid” in my class. That part’s true. But I’m on federal student loans, and I have a work-study job. Not only do I have enough to cover my expenses, but I can even put a little aside each month. Jessica, my roommate, had just been elected class president when she proposed a class-wide fundraiser for me. “Daniella is the only student in our class facing financial hardship. It’s our duty to extend a helping hand!” Her announcement left our classmates stunned. A bitter taste filled my mouth. Just as I was about to refuse, a few strange lines of text flickered in front of my eyes: [Classic plot point incoming! The kind-hearted female lead tries to help, only to be misunderstood by the insecure side character. A big fight is about to break out!] [Once it blows up, the gentle heroine will be all teary-eyed and heartbroken, and that’s the cue for the hot, domineering male lead to swoop in and save the day!] [I am so ready for the romance to start! C’mon, side character, have your meltdown already!] 1 I blinked, completely baffled. What kind of brain-dead garbage was this? If I didn’t want it, I’d just say no. There was no need for a dramatic scene. But the moment the word “No” left my lips, Jessica cut me off. “Daniella, I know you have your pride! But you can’t let it get in the way of your life. You’re coming back right at curfew every single night. You’re spending less than fifteen dollars a day on food. Your underwear is washed so thin it’s practically see-through, and your pajamas have holes in them… You can’t go on like this. It’s bound to affect your studies, and that will drag down the entire class’s average. So, for everyone’s sake, from now on, we’re covering your living expenses.” As she spoke, she pulled out a crisp twenty-dollar bill and shoved it into my hand. “Take it. You don’t have to pay it back! Just focus on your studies!” But even after stuffing the money into my palm, she didn’t let go. She held me in that awkward position, her eyes wide with expectation. The other students started sizing me up, their whispers turning into gasps. “Coming back so late every night… is that even a legit part-time job?” “Seriously? Fifteen bucks wouldn’t even cover my lunch. She must be scamming the cafeteria or something.” “People still wear clothes with holes in them? You don’t think she’s doing it for attention, do you?” I almost laughed out of sheer anger. We’d known each other for a few weeks, and she was already airing all my private business to the entire class. And for what? A measly twenty bucks? She was seriously holding onto my hand, expecting me to burst into grateful tears for her little performance? And what was wrong with these other students? Were they stupid or just blind? Just as a string of curses was about to erupt from my mouth, the comments popped up again. [The heroine has done so much! Why isn’t the side character flipping out yet? If she doesn’t make a scene, when will the male lead make his grand entrance?] [What’s wrong with her? Someone gives you money and you can’t even say thank you? No wonder she gets ostracized by everyone later, becomes depressed, and jumps off a building.] [Serves her right! If she wasn’t so ungrateful, the heroine wouldn’t have been so hurt. But hey, it gives the male lead a chance to comfort her. At least she’s useful for heating up their romance!] The insults I was about to hurl died on my tongue. As crazy as those comments sounded, I was only eighteen. My life was just beginning, and I had no intention of dying. So, I took a deep breath, yanked my hand free from Jessica’s grip, and pushed the twenty-dollar bill back at her. “Thanks, Jessica. But I don’t need it.” Her face fell instantly. “I told you, you don’t have to pay it back! This is easier money than whatever you’re doing. Stop penny-pinching and walking around in rags. It’s embarrassing for us to even be seen with you!” Someone else chimed in. “Yeah, seriously. Don’t make us all look bad. Here, I’ll chip in fifteen to cover your meals for a day!” “I’ve got five! We can crowdfund you some new underwear!” A few crumpled bills fluttered through the air, landing at my feet. The comments went wild. The screen was flooded with a single demand: [FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!] But in the midst of the chaos, a strange calm washed over me. After all, arguing with idiots only hurts yourself. So, I called for backup. 2 The classroom was buzzing with chaos when our academic advisor, Mr. Glazer, burst in, slightly out of breath. “What is going on in here?” The room fell silent. Students exchanged nervous glances, but no one spoke. That’s when Jessica stepped forward, her face beaming as if expecting a reward. “Mr. Glazer, I was just organizing a fundraiser for Daniella!” Mr. Glazer pointed at the money scattered on the floor. “This is how you fundraise?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief. I seized the opportunity. “Mr. Glazer, I told her I didn’t need it, but the class president insisted. She also exposed my personal information to everyone.” I then pointed out every student who had made a comment. “And they joined in, slandering me in front of the whole class.” To top it off, I presented the video I had been recording on my phone. Mr. Glazer’s face hardened as he watched it. He turned to the group, his disappointment palpable. “Is this how you help a fellow student? All of you, apologize to Daniella right now!” But Jessica’s expression turned even uglier. “Sir, Daniella is a scholarship student who is so focused on saving and making money that she’s neglecting her studies. I was doing this for her own good—for the good of the entire class! I did nothing wrong!” The other students she’d incited just stood there, stubbornly refusing to back down. Seeing this, I decided to lay it all out. “I work in the cafeteria during breakfast and dinner, so my meals are covered. The only meal I pay for is lunch, and fifteen dollars is more than enough. I have a work-study job at the library in the evenings. It closes at ten, and I’m back in my dorm by ten-thirty. As for money, you really don’t need to worry about me. From Monday to Friday, I work my campus job, eight hours total, at fifteen dollars an hour. On weekends, I tutor for eight hours at fifty dollars an hour. It’s enough to live on. And as for my studies… I had the highest entrance exam scores in our year. What, exactly, made you think I was dragging the class down?” The moment I finished, a student gasped. “Holy crap, that’s over five hundred a week! That’s triple my allowance!” A hush fell over the classroom. A few students shuffled their feet, mumbling apologies as they sheepishly picked their money up off the floor. Only Jessica remained, clutching her twenty-dollar bill, her face a mask of wounded pride. Tears welled in her eyes as she yelled at me, “If you’re not broke, why did you apply for financial aid and pretend to be poor? You made me think you needed help! You just wanted to humiliate all of us for trying to be kind! Fine! It’s all my fault! Are you happy now?” Her outburst brought the floating comments back. But this time, they seemed to echo my own confusion. […] [Wait, what kind of plot twist is this? Wasn’t the side character supposed to have a breakdown and get kicked out of class?] [Well… it’s not a total loss. I guess you could call this a scene, and the heroine is definitely upset, right?] [That side character is so manipulative! She pretended to be poor just to mess with the heroine! Ugh, I wish she would just die already!] [Exactly! How dare she bully our girl like this! Where is the male lead? I can’t take this anymore!] The rest of the comments were a torrent of curses directed at me. Then, a few students started speaking up in Jessica’s defense. “Sir, you can’t blame Jessica for this. She was just trying to be nice!” “Yeah, if anyone’s at fault, it’s Daniella! She should have been upfront about her situation instead of causing this whole misunderstanding. How is she the one acting all high and mighty?” “He’s right! If she doesn’t need the money, why is she on financial aid? Sir, I think you should revoke her scholarship status!” 3 Jessica said nothing more, maintaining her tear-streaked, victimized expression as she looked between me and Mr. Glazer. Mr. Glazer hesitated. He lowered his voice, trying to placate me. “Let’s not let this escalate between classmates. How about we just drop it for today? I’ll talk to everyone individually later.” But I wasn’t having it. Why should I be the one to back down just because she was crying? Did having more people on your side automatically make you right? Not a chance. I walked straight to the front of the classroom, stood at the lectern, and switched on the microphone. “Real kindness is about what the other person actually needs and wants, not about making yourself feel good. Jessica didn’t know my real situation. She just spied on my daily life and jumped to her own conclusions. She didn’t consult me, and she didn’t respect my wishes. She organized this so-called fundraiser, which was nothing more than a public humiliation. If any of you think what she did was okay, then go ahead. Pick up the money on the floor, and go thank her one by one. If even one of you can do that, I’ll apologize to all of you.” No one moved. Many of them hung their heads in shame. I pressed on. “Being a student on financial aid just means I started from a different place. It doesn’t make me less than anyone else. As long as we’re willing to work, we can manage just fine. And for the record, I’m on a student loan—money that I have to pay back—not a grant. I suggest we reconsider Jessica’s position as class president. And a word of advice for everyone else: spend more time with your books and less time caught up in drama with idiots.” After I finished, Mr. Glazer spoke up, his voice firm. “Daniella is right. You all need to focus more on your studies. If you have a problem, talk to a teacher. To have this kind of incident on the very first day of choosing a class president… we definitely need to hold a new election.” At his words, the faces of the other students fell. Jessica let out a loud sob and ran out of the classroom. Mr. Glazer sighed, made the few remaining students apologize again, and said he would talk to Jessica privately. I didn’t push it further. My shift was about to start. Arguing with them wasn’t nearly as important as earning a living. But when I got to the library, someone blocked my path in the main hall. He was handsome enough, but the moment he opened his mouth, he sounded like some cringey YA protagonist. “A student has filed a complaint that you falsified your financial aid information to take a work-study position. You need to go explain yourself to the library director. You’re not welcome here anymore.” Just then, the comments flickered back to life. [Aaaah! The hot male lead is here! The heroine sheds a few tears, and he immediately kicks the side character to the curb!] [The side character was so proud of earning her own money. Let’s see how cocky she is now!] [Wait… isn’t he being a little unreasonable? He’s the Student Council President, not the campus police, right?] [Get out of here with that logic! We’re here for the swoon-worthy romance, not a courtroom drama!] [Exactly! I live for seeing the male lead go crazy for the heroine and burn the world down for her!] Right. Now I knew what I was dealing with. I couldn’t help but think to myself: If these two are the main characters, this world is probably screwed. But this wasn’t the time to worry about the fate of the world. His loud declaration had drawn the attention of several people nearby. They were keeping their voices down, as required in a library, but they were whispering furiously and tapping away on their phones. They were spreading rumors, no doubt. To stop my reputation from being completely shredded, I decided to face him head-on. 4 “And you are?” “Blake Crawford, Student Council President.” He puffed out his chest, his face glowing with pride. I scoffed. What a big shot, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. “First, the Student Council has no authority over the work-study program. Second, my application was approved by the university administration. What evidence do you have that I falsified anything? If you don’t have any, then you’re slandering me in a public place.” Blake sidestepped the question. “It is every student’s duty to uphold the integrity of our campus! A complaint has been made, and it needs to be investigated. You should be confessing and cooperating, not causing a scene here!” Seeing that logic was useless with him, I stopped arguing and made a beeline for the library director’s office. “Daniella, you faked your records to steal a spot from someone who needs it! I’m telling you to leave, why are you going to my superiors? Get back here! Stop disturbing the other students!” he yelled, chasing after me. His shouting made everyone in the library turn and stare. I didn’t stop. I burst into the director’s office and said, “Director, this student is causing a major disturbance in the library and is trying to have me fired from my job!” The director looked startled, his gaze shifting from me to the young man who had followed me in. “Blake, is this true?” Blake quickly tried to explain himself. “A student filed a complaint. I was worried about the potential scandal, so I thought it would be best for Daniella to go home until the investigation is complete.” “Do you have any actual evidence?” the director asked, echoing my question. “Well… it was an anonymous, verbal complaint.” “Hah!” I let out a sharp laugh. “According to university regulations, anonymous complaints without concrete evidence are not considered valid. Blake, I have reason to believe you are deliberately targeting me.” “We don’t even know each other. Why would I target you? I’m acting in the best interests of the university!” he denied, but his shifty eyes gave him away. The director, pretending not to notice, tried to smooth things over. “Blake was probably just misled. It was all for the good of the university! Daniella, you can go back to your work now.” But I wasn’t letting it go.

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1 Three years ago, to gather funds for my paralyzed tycoon father’s overseas treatment, I entered into a peculiar cross-border marriage with Cara Scheinert. Now, my father had finally recovered, and I immediately booked the earliest flight home, eager to give Cara a big surprise. However, as I stood beneath our mansion, the scene before me sent a chill down my spine—Cara, with a visibly pregnant belly, was intimately nestled in another man’s arms. Seeing my shocked, frozen face, she merely paused for a moment. Then, an indifferent smirk spread across her face. “Three years ago, I had a college student as my kept man,” she said breezily. “You know the rules in our circle, and to keep him from being bullied, I had him take your place.” Those words were like an ice pick stabbing through my heart, leaving only a buzzing in my ears. “Cara Scheinert, what the hell are you talking about?” I demanded, my voice trembling. She reached out and snatched the signet ring—symbolizing the tycoon heir’s status—from my finger, her smile growing wider. “To outsiders, he’s the tycoon’s young master I officially married.” “As for at home, well, you’re the ‘big one,’ and he’s the ‘little one.’” “You’ll always be my dearest husband. Isn’t this arrangement satisfactory enough?” she said, her tone almost provocative. … I slapped Cara across the face, incredulous. She pressed her cheek, showing no anger. She just smiled at me, her voice laced with a threat. “It’s normal to be upset. You can take it out on me.” “But if you dare lay a hand on Christian, I won’t tolerate it.” “Until the baby is born, you’ll just have to make do as a servant, taking care of Christian and me.” Seeing no reaction from me, she stood on tiptoe. A flurry of kisses rained down on my cheek. “Before, when you asked me to visit your father, I refused every time, not because I was busy with work.” “It’s because Christian is too clingy; he can’t be without me.” “Perhaps you should learn from him how to be cherished.” I felt as if plunged into an ice pit, a profound chill settling in my heart. Looking at the woman I’d been married to for three years, she felt utterly like a stranger. Years ago, she had pursued me for a long time. My father didn’t approve of her family background at all. I was the one who knelt before my father, begging for three days and three nights, before he finally agreed to our marriage. What did she say then? She said she would be willing to be my dog if it meant being with me. Everyone knew Cara Scheinert was fiercely protective of her husband; she’d get jealous if anyone even looked at me too long. After we married, even her best friends never saw my face. I never imagined it was all so someone else could take my place. The intense humiliation and betrayal burned within me. I gritted my teeth and demanded, “You let another man impersonate me. Aren’t you afraid I’ll divorce you and kick you out?” Cara chuckled, her gaze holding a pity I had never seen before. “Such a naive young master, pampered by a wealthy family.” “Who doesn’t know your father is terminally ill and doesn’t have much time left? How many people are secretly eyeing your family’s fortune?” “If you make a fuss with me now, those uncles and cousins will just seize on your scandal and kick you out. Right now, I’m the only one you can rely on.” She stroked my face, her eyes filled with a tenderness, but her tone was threatening. “If you hadn’t come back, I could have kept Christian outside, so you wouldn’t have to face any of this.” “But who told you to be so headstrong? You made Christian and me argue for ages, almost causing me to go into early labor.” “Who in this circle doesn’t have a side piece or two? Just put up with it.” “You’ll always be the husband in my heart. I still love you.” I stood frozen, staring at her shameless face. I felt utterly disheartened. “Cara Scheinert, we’re getting a divorce.” 2 Cara’s face darkened. She gripped my hand, squeezing until my bones creaked. “Timothy, don’t be ridiculous!” I yanked my hand free and slammed my briefcase hard against her head. Blood trickled down her temple. With an angry roar, Christian immediately shielded her. “Clumsy oaf! Who gave you the guts to hit my Cara?!” “Guards, grab him! Whichever hand he used to hit her, break it!” He looked at me with a defiant gaze, clearly taking on the air of the man of the house. I scowled, about to intervene. Then I realized all the servants who used to follow me had been replaced by new faces. And Cara had no intention of stopping him; instead, she hugged Christian, her face indulgent. “I’m carrying Christian’s baby, I can’t handle stress.” “Timothy, you’ll just have to suffer a bit. I’ll find you the best doctor.” “He’s the heir to the Russo family now. If you cross him, even I can’t save you.” I was pinned to the ground by the servants. A wooden club was raised high, followed by the crisp sound of bone cracking. Excruciating pain shot through my wrist, and my agonizing screams echoed through the entire hall. My vision blurred with tears, and in a daze, I was transported back years ago, to the night I was kidnapped by thugs. Cara had single-handedly stormed the kidnappers’ hideout. When one of the thugs fired a fatal shot at me, she didn’t hesitate to step in front of me. She lay in the ICU for three days and three nights, and when she woke up, she only said one thing to me: “I don’t regret it if it meant saving you.” From then on, I completely fell for her. Despite my father’s objections, I insisted on marrying Cara. On our wedding day, she knelt before my father and swore. She would spend her life protecting me forever. But her “forever” had lasted only a mere three years. My heart ached so much I could barely breathe, leaving only intense rage and hatred. My eyes red from crying, I looked up. Cara lay in Christian’s arms, her hand on her swollen belly. “If it’s a boy, that would be wonderful.” “With his looks, I’ll spoil him rotten, won’t I?” Then, as if remembering something, Cara pulled me up from the ground, gently tending to my wound. “Don’t mind Christian; he’s just too worried about me.” “See how spoiled he is? Isn’t he still cute?” I stared coldly at Cara, then, without hesitation, slapped her again. “I owed you a life back then, and I’ve repaid it with this hand.” “From now on, we owe each other nothing.” She froze, frowning as she looked at me. “Timothy, what do you mean by that? What are you trying to do?” I ignored her, raising my phone to call the police. But before the call connected, she snatched it and smashed it to the ground. “Timothy, it’s just a title, why are you so petty?” “Tonight is Christian’s birthday party. Many important people will be attending. Do you want to ruin his entire life?” “Guards, lock him in the basement!” 3 I tried to struggle but was forcefully thrown into the basement. The pitch-black darkness around me made my limbs tremble, reminding me of the half-month I was kidnapped. “Cara Scheinert, let me out! Have you forgotten I have claustrophobia?” I screamed, almost losing my mind, frantically pounding on the door. But Cara simply stood by the door, and after a long moment, she sighed helplessly. “Timothy, stop pretending.” “The doctor said your claustrophobia has long been cured.” “Stop making a fuss. After the birthday party, I’ll make it up to you properly.” As the footsteps faded away, I felt a suffocating despair. After being kidnapped, I developed claustrophobia. Many nights I couldn’t sleep, and Cara was by my side, patiently coaxing me to sleep. “It’s all my fault. If I had rescued you sooner, you wouldn’t have suffered so much.” Her eyes were red, her face full of self-blame and guilt. I couldn’t bear to see her sad, so I had the doctor tell her that my illness had been cured. I never expected that my love for her back then would now be a knife stabbing at myself. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I fainted from shock and rage. When I woke up again, I was being dragged into the center of a banquet. Four or five young socialites eyed me up and down, their faces full of disdain and contempt. “Christian, is this the kept man your family has outside?” “How rude, daring to come here and cause trouble?” Christian, surrounded by them, smirked mockingly. “Well, Cara is carrying my baby, so I won’t bother with this trash. Just teach him a lesson and kick him out.” Everyone praised Christian’s generosity and kindness. Someone, trying to curry favor with him, grabbed my hair and started dragging me out. “You lowlife, don’t you dare look at yourself in a mirror! How dare you offend Young Master Christian?” “Who in this whole circle doesn’t know Cara Scheinert is Christian’s fawning wife? What are you, anyway?” I gasped in pain, struggling to push their hands away, and held up my marriage certificate. “You’ve all been fooled by him! I’m the heir of the Russo family, Cara’s husband, and this is our marriage certificate…” Before I could finish, the marriage certificate was snatched from my hand. The young socialites glanced at it, then scoffed, tearing it to shreds and throwing it on the ground. “This marriage certificate doesn’t even have a stamp, it’s clearly fake.” “Christian takes his mother’s surname, Russo. We all went to his wedding with Cara; it was even front-page news. Who are you trying to fool?” They held up their phones, and Cara and Christian’s marriage certificate appeared on the screens. The clear official seal felt like a crisp slap to my face. My face instantly went pale, and I felt a chill right to my bones. It turned out that my three-year marriage, which I had faithfully protected, was fake from the very beginning. Tears mixed with hatred splattered on the ground. I glared fiercely at Christian. “Even if the marriage is fake, you can’t impersonate my identity!” “I am the eldest son of the Russo family! I have the signet ring that represents my status!” Saying this, I raised my hand, only to see my finger was empty. The next second, Cara’s voice echoed through the hall. “Are you looking for this?” She smiled casually, placing the signet ring on Christian’s hand. I felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on me, chilling me from head to toe. That was the coming-of-age gift my father had given me, the signet ring symbolizing the heir of the Russo family! It had once accidentally fallen into the sea, and Cara had retrieved it after searching for three days and three nights. She had a high fever of 104 degrees Fahrenheit, yet she found it and gently placed it on my hand. “I will protect everything that belongs to you.” And now, my identity, my love. All of it had been handed over to another man by her. I completely broke down, lunging at Christian, trying to snatch the ring from his hand. “That’s my father’s ring, the ring of authority! How could you give it to him!” But before I could even touch Christian, he suddenly fell into Cara’s arms. Cara clutched her belly, letting out a piercing scream. Blood flowed onto the floor. “My baby, my baby!” 4 Before I could react, a sharp pain shot through my back. Christian kicked me, sending me flying backward to slam hard against the wall. Blood from my temple trickled down my cheek. Cara clung to Christian’s sleeve, sobbing hysterically. “Call a doctor, quickly! Save our baby!” As she was led away by doctors, she didn’t even glance at me. She just coldly spat out a single sentence. “If anything happens to Christian’s and my baby, I’ll make you pay with your life.” Bodyguards pinned me to the ground, and people around me pointed and jeered. Some had already pulled out their phones, recording and live-streaming. “Shameless! A male home-wrecker dares to show up and impersonate the tycoon’s son.” “Offending Cara and the Russo family, the city’s wealthiest, he’s probably going to end up in pieces.” I just kept a cold face, my heart so numb I couldn’t feel any pain. It wasn’t until the next morning that Cara returned home with Christian. Her eyes bloodshot, she slapped me hard across the face. “Christian and my baby is gone. Are you happy now?” I scoffed at her. “Are you blind? He fell on you himself. What does that have to do with me?” “Don’t you have surveillance at home? Did cheating for three years make you lose your mind?” Cara’s face turned green then pale, but she still glanced at the surveillance camera hesitantly. The next second, Christian screamed hysterically, lunging at me, tearing and punching me without restraint. “You killed Cara’s and my baby! I want you to pay with blood!” Cara didn’t stop him, merely watching with cold eyes. It wasn’t until Christian was choking my neck that she pulled him away, coaxing him with red eyes. “Timothy is the man I love most in this life. I promised his father I would take care of him forever.” “Let’s choose another punishment. As long as it doesn’t harm his life, I’ll agree to anything else you want.” Christian wept heartbreakingly, his gaze at me filled with venomous hatred. “Then I want him to be a useless man for life, unable to have children, to avenge our baby!” “No!” My face went white, and I glared fiercely at Cara. “My dad has recovered! If he finds out you dared to do this to me, he won’t let you off the hook!” Cara looked at me as if she had heard a joke, her disappointment deepening, her gaze growing colder. “Timothy Russo, you would even tell such a lie to escape punishment?” “The doctor said your dad was at death’s door; no one could save him!” Seeing tears in the corner of my eye, she sighed, her voice softening. “It’s alright, Timothy. It’s just a vasectomy.” “Anyway, you’re busy with work; when would you have time to have a baby with me?” “Christian and I will have children later. They can call you ‘Dad.’ Aren’t you satisfied with that?” I looked at her incredulously, a dull ache in my chest from anger. With unknown strength, I broke free from my restraints and picked up a nearby chair, smashing it towards her. “Bang!” The chair hit the ground, and the wound on Cara’s forehead reopened, blood gushing out. Her face completely hardened, all traces of pity for me vanishing from her eyes. “Tie him up and send him to the operating room!” Bodyguards swarmed over, forcefully injecting me with a sedative. My body immobile, I could only watch helplessly as I was pushed into the operating room. A cold blade cut across my lower abdomen, finally stopping at my chest. Blood flowed, bringing sharp pains, and I heard the doctor’s chilling voice. “You’ve offended the Young Master Russo. He specifically instructed us not to let you leave here alive.” With that, he raised the scalpel high, aiming it at my heart, ready to plunge it in. I closed my eyes in despair. The next moment, the operating room door was violently kicked open, and a majestic, familiar roar rang out. “Stop! Who dares touch my son!”

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I spent seven years loving Leo. His secretary suggested the kidnapping was a good chance for me to learn my lesson, and he actually didn’t pay the ransom. Those hellish months made me see him for who he truly was. Just when I finally made up my mind to leave, he came to me, eyes red, begging me to come back. He said he wanted a fresh start, but I had already learned how to stay far, far away. 1. The day I walked into the city barefoot, I made the news. Kirsten Hassell, the adopted daughter of the prominent Hassell family, had been kidnapped for months. She stumbled back, filthy and reeking, her clothes ragged, her bare feet scarred and bleeding. She was a wreck, like a stray dog. I watched the media flashes, the cameras clicking, desperate for a shot, but my heart was already stagnant, incapable of even a ripple. The old Kirsten was dead. The glamorous, naive, spoiled, vibrant Kirsten was gone. The kidnappers, and Leo, had utterly destroyed her. Soon, a group of bodyguards in black suits cut a path through the throngs of people. Their leader, Ethan, I knew. For seven years, during my relentless pursuit of Leo, he had been the one to “escort” me out of Leo’s office and private apartment. “Escort” was a polite word for it; it was more like dragging me out, because I wouldn’t give up, and because Leo found me utterly exasperating. “Ms. Hassell, Mr. Hassell is waiting in the car for you. Please come with me.” Ethan’s gaze flickered with surprise when it landed on me; he clearly hadn’t expected me to be in such a wretched state. I nodded, stepping forward on my injured feet, leaving bloody prints on the pavement. The pain receptors in my nerves were long since numb; this short walk was nothing compared to my escape. Ethan walked behind me, unable to resist calling out, “Ms. Hassell…” I didn’t answer him. Pity me? He should be relieved. After this lesson, I would never pester Leo again, nor would I add any extra trouble to his job. Once in the car, I saw Leo sitting, eyes closed, lost in thought. His short, dark hair was impeccably styled, his sculpted features flawless, undeniably handsome. Of course. During my absence, he must have felt an unprecedented sense of peace and relief. He looked better than ever. Hearing the slight commotion, Leo slowly opened his eyes. The moment he saw me, he barely recognized me. “Kirsten?” I meekly nodded. Yes, I had learned my lesson. Before, I hadn’t cared about being the adopted daughter of the Hassell family, acting as if I were their biological child, proud and arrogant. But now, after the kidnapping, I understood that my life was in the Hassell family’s hands. If Leo didn’t pay the ransom, my life was worth less than dirt. He frowned, a hint of displeasure. “How did you get yourself into this state?” This state? What state? A lunatic? A beggar? I’d run for dozens of miles, sleepless, not only evading kidnappers but also wary of predatory animals in the suburban forests. When thirsty, I drank rainwater; when hungry, I rummaged through trash heaps by the highway. I imagine anyone would go mad under such circumstances. I knew he was annoyed that I appeared before the media looking like this, that it would cause trouble for his company—the Hassell family’s company, to be precise. “I’m sorry.” *Sorry for offending your eyes, Leo.* Leo paused at my reply, then a smirk played on his lips. “She was right. You actually learned your lesson.” I didn’t understand what Leo was talking about. Once the car door closed and the vehicle started moving, Leo suddenly reached a long arm toward me. I instinctively recoiled into the corner, but he stopped short, speaking with a disgusted tone, “Kirsten, you stink.” I don’t know if it was the confined space of the car, but Leo finally smelled the foul odor clinging to me—a fermented mixture of blood, sweat, dirt, and scraps from garbage piles. Hearing Leo’s words, I instinctively moved to get off the seat, but the car swerved slightly, and I ended up kneeling in the aisle. “I’m so sorry, I won’t get the seat dirty, I’ll just…” *Just kneel here.* It hurt so much. My knees, and the tiny pinprick wounds the kidnappers had made with fine steel needles. They blamed me; I wasn’t important to Leo at all, and they hadn’t gotten the ransom, wasting their time, so they took their anger out on me. I couldn’t stand, so I just knelt in that cramped space. Leo instantly became furious. “What are you doing? Get back in your seat!” He ordered me, but his disgust kept him from helping me up. I could only obey, using immense effort to prop myself up and sit back. The pain, coupled with the low blood sugar from the past few days, brought tears to my eyes. Leo had always ignored my tears, finding them annoying, but this time, he surprisingly tossed me the handkerchief he had used to wipe his hands. I clutched the clean, white cloth. Before, I would have been overjoyed, but now, that handkerchief only served to highlight my filth and brokenness. Ethan glanced at me in the rearview mirror. My head was bowed; perhaps he had never seen me so disgraced and pathetic. 2. When the car returned to the Hassell estate, Leo ordered someone to take me to the bathroom to wash up. I refused the maids’ help, only asking them to pick out a long dress, one that covered my ankles, from my old wardrobe. They rummaged for a while, finally pulling out a modest, long-sleeved dress, almost like a student’s uniform, from a corner amidst various fashionable clothes. No one defined what a student should wear, but looking at myself in the mirror, I did indeed resemble a student more than my former flamboyant style. I remembered receiving my acceptance letter from a top international design school before the kidnapping. Now, three months had passed since the enrollment deadline. “Thank you.” The maids looked utterly stunned, clearly not expecting their young mistress to thank them. But after everything that had happened, I understood perfectly: I was essentially no different from them. They were maids hired by the Hassell family; I was a daughter hired by the Hassell family. Pushing the door open, I saw Leo waiting for me at the top of the stairs. He leaned casually against the railing, his eyes lazily scanning me up and down, then he scoffed. “Kirsten, what game are you playing now? Dressed like that.” *Too plain?* Leo thought this was another one of my childish ploys for attention, but I only wanted to cover my scars. I followed Leo into the dining room. The room was silent until Leo gestured for me to come forward. Only then did I notice Mr. and Mrs. Hassell sitting at the dining table, looking worried. Mrs. Hassell saw me and almost rushed over. She stumbled, and a woman beside her gently helped steady her. “Mrs. Hassell, please don’t worry. Ms. Hassell has returned safe and sound, hasn’t she? Ms. Hassell, Mrs. Hassell has been so worried about you that her hair has turned gray.” I knew this woman; she was Leo’s secretary. Claire. Claire had naturally flowing black hair, wearing the simplest, most unassuming turtleneck sweater and jeans, yet a beautiful rose gold necklace hung around her neck. I was “safe and sound,” while Mrs. Hassell had worried herself sick. The moment Claire spoke, I transformed from a victim into an unfilial daughter of the Hassell family. Mrs. Hassell held me, weeping, while the woman comforted her. But I couldn’t cry. I looked at Leo, and his eyes seemed to say I was a heartless person. Finally, Mr. Hassell spoke, his voice firm, interrupting them. “Stop holding Kirsten, let her come and eat.” Mrs. Hassell wiped her tears. “My fault, my fault. My darling has suffered so much these past months, she must not have eaten properly. Come, Auntie made your favorite fish chowder!” Mrs. Hassell pulled me to sit between her and Mr. Hassell. Leo sat opposite me, and Claire sat beside him. Such a perfect picture of a family. I looked at the food in my bowl—a feast of colors, aromas, and flavors. I had almost forgotten what normal food looked like. I yearned to drop my chopsticks and just grab it with my hands, stuffing it into my mouth. The closer I got to the city highway, the stricter the sanitation management became. Gradually, I couldn’t find any more trash heaps, which meant no food. So I had been starving for almost three days, surviving only on tree leaves. Under everyone’s gaze, I forced myself to pick up the bowl and shovel rice into my mouth with chopsticks. Even so, I still caught Claire’s mocking gaze; she ate daintily, in small bites, displaying her elegance. Leo, witnessing this, naturally looked even more disgusted with me, yet at Mrs. Hassell’s urging, he reluctantly picked up a piece of sweet and sour pork and placed it on my plate. I thought that even the blandest porridge and steamed buns, which I used to find hard to swallow, I could now devour. But looking at the tempting sweet and sour pork, and realizing Leo had personally put it there, my stomach churned with nausea. “Darling, eat. Leo knows you like sweet and sour, so he specifically asked Auntie to add this dish.” *Nonsense.* Leo had no idea what I liked. Conversely, I knew all his preferences by heart. For instance, gold—he favored rose gold. Seeing my hesitant chopsticks, Mr. Hassell asked with concern, “What’s wrong, darling? Did you argue with Leo on the way back? Don’t worry, after dinner, I’ll give him a good talking-to.” “Dad!” Leo exclaimed, perhaps feeling this made him lose face in front of Claire. I shook my head silently, overcoming the physiological revulsion, and brought the sweet and sour pork to my mouth with my chopsticks. But the moment I swallowed, I threw up. Leo’s expression was startled. I immediately stood up from my chair, covering my head and retreating to a corner. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll eat it, please don’t hit me!” Everyone was shocked. Mrs. Hassell’s tears flowed again as she came to embrace me. “Did those people abuse you, darling? Tell me, did they?” Mr. Hassell and Leo also approached. Mr. Hassell’s expression was pained, looking at me with heartache. Leo, however, frowned, remaining silent, his face grim. *What does this mean? Didn’t the kidnappers threaten the Hassell family, saying that if the ransom wasn’t paid, their adopted daughter would experience abuse?* *Why are they asking me now if I was mistreated?* Actually, giving me stale bread and spoiled rice wasn’t really abuse, especially compared to the slop I ate afterward. I was just so terrified, terrified of the feeling that my life was in Leo’s hands. The kidnappers had negotiated directly with him, but he chose to abandon me. He hated me that much. I suppose that’s where the physical nausea came from. 3. After dinner, I was called to Mr. Hassell’s study. Mr. Hassell, abandoning his usual decisive corporate demeanor, patiently and kindly asked me, “Darling, you’ve liked Leo since you were a child. Do you still like him?” I shook my head frantically, so hard my facial muscles started to ache. Seven years of loving Leo, seven years of humiliation, seven years of pain. But I never learned my lesson, did I? That’s why this time, this time I went through a hell of revenge and torment. I couldn’t dare to like Leo anymore. Mr. Hassell pondered my answer for a moment, then sighed regretfully, “Oh, well. You may not be Leo’s wife, but you’ll always be a daughter of the Hassell family. My darling is so good, so beautiful, it’s that boy Leo who’s unlucky.” He took a bank card from his drawer. “This is what your parents left for you, four million dollars. They asked me to hold onto it and give it to you as your dowry when you grew up.” Four million dollars. The ransom was also four million dollars. During the kidnapping, I had resented my parents, wondering why they hadn’t taken me with them, sparing me this gratuitous torment. It turned out, they had already left me a guarantee to live well. They loved me so much. I bit my thumb, preventing myself from crying out. “Thank you, Uncle.” It was already 8 PM when I left the study. I walked toward my own room but bumped into Leo halfway. He understood my intention and spoke to me with an unexpectedly gentle tone, “Claire is staying in your room tonight. You’ll stay in the guest room next to mine.” So it was for Claire. I nodded and started walking in the opposite direction. When I first moved into the Hassell household, Leo disliked me and moved to the room furthest from mine—one in the far east, the other in the far west. But my room had been decorated by a top-tier designer hired by the Hassell family; the guest room couldn’t compare. Yet, ultimately, it all belonged to the Hassell family. If Leo told me to yield, I would. I hadn’t walked two steps when Leo called out, “Kirsten, why are you so obedient now?” I turned around and saw a mocking, yet almost worried, expression on his face. “I… I’m sorry…” I spoke hesitantly. Aside from endlessly apologizing, I had no idea what to say to Leo. “This is the third time you’ve apologized to me today. You’re being strange.” Leo walked over, leaning in and raising a hand to my forehead. I recoiled as if electrocuted, pushing myself away quickly. By the time I gripped the hallway railing, my legs were weak, almost unable to stand. Leo looked at me like I was insane, his expression growing impatient. I forced back the tremble in my voice and said, “I… I’m moving out tomorrow. I’ve already told Mr. Hassell.” I had expected Leo to be relieved by the news, to finally let me go. Instead, he grew angry. “Moving out? Why?… I merely let Claire stay in your room for a night. She’s a guest; what’s wrong with you being accommodating?” I shook my head frantically. “No, it’s not that.” Leo’s face darkened as he walked toward me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me toward the easternmost room. “Come with me, I need to talk to you.” Fear engulfed my mind. I tearfully pulled out the bank card Mr. Hassell had given me earlier in the study. “I’m sorry, I have money, please don’t hit me.” “I have money, please don’t hit me.” Leo turned back, startled. I was already slumped on the floor, my wrist still held high in his grip. “Kirsten, what are you saying?” My lips were now bitten purple. As Leo’s face loomed larger, I gradually recalled the kidnappers’ insults: *The Hassell family’s dog, foolishly clinging to its master.* “Mr. Hassell, I—no, Mr. Hassell, I won’t bother you anymore. I wouldn’t dare again.” Leo finally realized my mental state was off. His movements became much gentler. He put an arm around my waist, lifting me from the floor. The sudden loss of balance made me instinctively cling to Leo’s neck. His stern expression finally softened slightly. “Kirsten, I’m not saying I don’t want you around, it’s just…” Before he could finish, the hallway door swung open with a *click*. Claire poked her head out of my room, the bright light from inside spilling into the hall. She covered her mouth, feigning surprise. “Mr. Hassell, Ms. Hassell.” Leo looked displeased. “I gave you the room, what else do you need?” Claire replied somewhat aggrieved, “It’s a video conference with the US branch. Mr. Hassell, they need you to attend personally.” Leo glanced at me in his arms, then reluctantly put me down. My body was stiff, unable to speak. “Wait for me in my room.” Leo left that instruction, then walked over to Claire. The two entered the room, and the door closed. The bright light vanished from the hallway. I felt like I had just escaped death, cold sweat already soaking through the back of my clothes. Leo wouldn’t be back. I knew Claire’s tactics. Countless times, on my birthdays, my graduation ceremonies, he had been called away by Claire exactly like this. Perhaps he truly wanted to leave, and truly didn’t want to return. And I needed to leave as soon as possible, to a place where I wouldn’t see Leo. I was terrified that any further contact with him would push me over the edge into madness. 4. I sat on the guest room bed until 3 AM, with no sound coming from Leo’s room next door. During that time, I used the new phone Mrs. Hassell bought me, logged into an app, and found a well-secured apartment for rent. Just as dawn broke, the Hassell estate was silent. I carried my shoes, barefoot, and slipped out. Walking outside, I suddenly saw someone leaning against Leo’s car, playing on their phone. My heart leaped, fearing it was Leo. The person heard my movement and looked up. I realized it was Ethan. I pretended nothing was wrong, walked past him, and headed to the roadside to hail a cab. But he followed me. “Ms. Hassell?” “……” “Mr. Hassell knows you’re…” “Can you please not tell Leo?” I suppressed my agitation. I was so close, just a hair’s breadth away from escaping. Why did I have to run into him? Ethan looked confused. “Mr. Hassell will be worried.” I shook my head hard, and started to take off my clothes. Ethan instinctively backed away, then turned his head, his ears flushing. “Ms. Hassell, what are you doing?” I didn’t care. If I could live, what was shame? That feeling had long been eroded by Leo. “He won’t worry about me. All these scars were left on me by the kidnappers, under his instruction.” Ethan looked at me then. Under my jacket was a white sleeveless tank top, clearly revealing purple-red whip marks, blue bruises, and several scabs on my arms. He was incredulous. These shocking scars were beyond his comprehension. I quickly put my clothes back on while he was stunned and pleaded, “Ethan, please, let me go, or I’ll die.” It was the first time I had called him by his name. Before, I always called him Leo’s dog, just as the kidnappers called me. Ethan was speechless for a long time. I quickly ran towards the roadside to hail a taxi. Suddenly, a large hand grabbed me, but after realizing there were injuries beneath my clothes, it recoiled. I was on the verge of tears. “No…” Ethan gritted his teeth, his voice firm. “You won’t find a taxi at this hour. I’ll take you.” “?” With a complex mix of emotions, I got into Leo’s car again. Ethan turned off the dashcam, just in case. “Just bear with it, we’ll be there soon.” He thought I resisted being in Leo’s car, which was true, but as long as it meant escaping Leo, escaping the Hassell family, this endurance was nothing. We arrived at the prearranged apartment complex. I texted the agent that I wanted to move in immediately. To close the deal, he came early in the morning with the contract and keys, greeting us with a cheerful smile at the complex entrance. Ethan was worried, so he came up with me to see the place. It was a fully furnished loft. Although small, it had all the necessary household items. “One thousand two hundred square feet, it’s already the largest apartment in our complex, Ms. Hassell. Whether you live alone or with a boyfriend, it’s more than enough.” I looked at Ethan. He said nothing, his head bowed as he flipped through the contract in his hand. Then he asked about utilities and air conditioning. Finding no issues, he handed it to me. I don’t know why, but I trusted him immensely. Perhaps it was his good nature, not caring when I lashed out at him with kicks and punches every time he dragged me out of Leo’s office. Or perhaps it was when he found me in a bar, under Leo’s orders, and brutally beat those men who tried to lay hands on me. Without hesitation, I quickly signed, pulled out the bank card, and handed it to the agent. He swiped it on the POS machine, then complimented Ethan and me a few times before happily leaving. In the empty room, only Ethan and I remained. He suddenly became a bit awkward. “Ms. Hassell, I should head back.” I nodded, intending to write him a check as thanks—an old habit of mine—but then realized my pockets were empty. Right, I had left with nothing. I had wanted to bring a few personal items, but even my own room had been taken over, let alone a checkbook. “Ethan, how can I thank you?” Ethan was slightly surprised. “No… no need to thank me.” I said no more. Even if he needed something from me in the future, I wouldn’t refuse. Ethan left; he had to go back to work. Before leaving, he said, “Get some good rest.” I certainly needed rest. The thought even crossed my mind: *Finally, I can rest.* Dozens of miles, I slept under tarpaulins in farmlands, on low tree branches. It wasn’t really sleeping; my mind was constantly on edge, wary of those hunting me, wary of wild animals. Back at the Hassell estate, I was constantly waiting for an opportunity to escape. So, sitting on that soft guest room bed, I pinched the soft flesh of my inner thigh over and over, just to stay awake. I took off my shoes, went upstairs into the bedroom. The large bed inside had only a bare mattress; I hadn’t had time to buy any furnishings. But luckily, this loft came with blackout curtains. I pulled them shut, collapsed onto the mattress, and fell into a deep sleep.

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Liam had recently become obsessed with a girl who already had a boyfriend. She was fierce and stubborn — she would rather die than give in. But Liam never failed to get what he wanted. The day they finally slept together, he bought out every billboard in the city to wish her a happy birthday. I found all this out from the nurses gossiping at the hospital. Through tear-blurred eyes, I spotted Liam’s figure in the doorway. He looked at me, his expression completely unreadable. “As long as you behave yourself and stop interfering with her, your position as Mrs. Liam stays yours. And your brother’s debts — I’ll keep covering those too.” I looked at him, thinking of the endless collection calls I’d been getting. I nodded. What he didn’t know was that just yesterday, a nurse had mentioned that the girl he’d fought so hard to win over had a boyfriend who was HIV-positive. So he was cheating. Fine. I could live with that. After all, when he dies, everything goes to me. The moment I pushed open the bedroom door, used condoms were scattered all over the floor. When he saw me walk in, Liam let out a short, contemptuous laugh. His eyes swept over the mess, his voice edged with impatience. “What are you standing there for? Clean it up. I’m taking Cara out tonight — don’t make trouble.” My throat tightened. My fingernails dug deep into my palms. “The cleaning service can handle this.” Liam raised an eyebrow and stepped toward me, looking down at me from his height. “Ellie, it’s a small thing. Just do it yourself.” I closed my eyes. The color drained from my face. I knew what this was — Liam putting me in my place. “Your brother racked up another five million dollars in debt.” His voice came from above me. “I can cover it. As long as you behave.” I opened my eyes and watched a check flutter down onto the nightstand. While I cleaned up the mess, Liam stood in the doorway the entire time, watching. I knelt on the floor, picking up the used condoms one by one, my stomach lurching with every second of it. He watched me degrade myself, and he was satisfied. He reached out and patted my head, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile. “The therapy actually did some good. You’re so much more sensible now, sweetheart.” I said nothing. My heart ached so badly it had gone numb. By the time I finally finished cleaning, the sky outside had gone dark. Liam had disappeared at some point. The check was still sitting there. I sank down onto the floor and pulled out my phone. Over a dozen missed calls — all from debt collectors. The cold glow of the screen lit up my hollow face. During the six months I’d been locked away in that private clinic, Liam had absorbed every asset the Hartley family owned. My parents died young and left behind a company. My brother was too young to know the ways of the world. And I, the eldest, had been locked up. I watched from a distance as Liam’s grip tightened, inch by inch, until he’d swallowed everything. The Hartley family, once respected and powerful, was now nothing but a hollow shell buried in debt. My brother — once the pampered, untouchable son of the Hartley name — had a hand broken by debt collectors. Now he worked three jobs a day just to stay afloat. My eyes landed on the check on the nightstand. Ten million dollars. All I had to do was be obedient, and Liam would pay me. I couldn’t refuse. There was no refusing.

In the bathroom, I washed my hands over and over until the skin turned raw. The woman in the mirror was pale, but her eyes were unusually bright. Yesterday at the hospital, I’d overheard nurses talking. The girl Liam had chased down so desperately — her boyfriend was HIV-positive. Standing there under the running water, I laughed. There was still a divorce agreement locked in the desk drawer in the study. My lawyer had everything ready to go. We were supposed to file with the court next week. The evidence against Liam was rock solid — infidelity, emotional abuse, psychological manipulation. I could have walked away with at least half of everything. But now, I didn’t want that anymore. Half wasn’t enough. I wanted all of it. I dried my hands, carefully folded the check into my pocket, and texted my brother back. “The money situation is handled.” Liam came home sometime after 3 a.m., reeking of perfume. I was lying in bed, forcing myself to keep my eyes shut. Liam glanced over at me and gave a low, quiet laugh. “I know you’re not asleep.” His shadow fell over me, carrying the scent of another woman. He leaned down. His hot, alcohol-soaked breath hit the side of my neck. The second his skin touched mine, a wave of visceral, uncontrollable nausea rose up from somewhere deep in my stomach. I turned my head away and stumbled into the bathroom, dry-heaving over the sink. Liam stood in the doorway. “What’s your problem, Ellie?” I had my back to him. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to push down the churning in my gut and the dull, spreading ache in my chest. “I’m not feeling well today.” Liam gave a cold laugh. “Pathetic.” That night, he didn’t come home. The next afternoon, I got a call from the building manager. “Ms. Hartley, Mr. Liam has moved a young woman into your property at Lakeview Manor.” My phone slipped from my fingers. Lakeview Manor. The one thing my mother had left me. That house held every good memory I had. Even when Liam had driven the Hartley name into bankruptcy and had every property and car seized and auctioned off, he had never touched that house. He knew what it meant to me. This was his retaliation for last night. When Liam came home that evening, I was waiting in the living room. “Why that house?” My eyes were red. My voice trembled slightly. He shrugged off his jacket, his tone casual. “Cara likes it there. It was just sitting empty anyway.” I stared at his indifferent profile, and felt something hollow out in my chest. “That house is mine.” Liam turned to look at me, and there was nothing in his eyes but contempt. “Wake up, Ellie. Everything you have right now is because I allow it — including that house. The Hartleys are finished.” “If you’re good, maybe after Cara gets tired of it, I’ll let you have it back.” I clenched my fists until my nails broke the skin. “Liam. You’re going to regret this.” Liam smiled, but his voice dropped cold. “Regret? Ellie, you’re the one who should be regretting things.” I watched him turn and walk away, and I fought back the burning behind my eyes with everything I had. A second later, my phone buzzed. A message from my brother. “Ellie, the check — it looks like it’s been frozen…”

I gripped my phone tight. My fingers went ice-cold. Ten million dollars. That was my brother’s lifeline. “Don’t panic. I’ll figure something out.” I hit send, took a slow breath, and walked toward the master bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. Through it came Liam’s voice on a phone call — gentle in a way I had never once heard him speak to me. “Do you like it, sweetheart? If you need anything, just say the word…” I raised my hand and knocked softly. “Come in.” His voice snapped back to its usual coldness. I pushed the door open. Liam was in his robe, leaning against the balcony railing, smoking. His profile looked blurred in the moonlight. “What do you want?” My throat felt tight. I opened my mouth, and the words came out dry. “The check. Why was it frozen?” He finally turned around. He tapped the ash off his cigarette, and the corner of his mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Ellie, money doesn’t come for free. Your behavior lately has been… disappointing.” My heart dropped. I lowered my eyes. I pressed my nails into my palm — the pain kept me sharp. “Liam.” My voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m asking you. Please.” The word hung in the air. Liam went still for a moment. That was what I used to call him, back when we were in love — just Liam, not Mr. Hartley, not the cold, unreachable version of him. After the first affair, I had stopped saying it entirely. That was a long time ago. Liam drew on his cigarette. The ember glowed and faded. When he spoke, his voice was flat and indifferent. “Sweetheart, when you make me unhappy, there are always consequences.” I raised my head and met his eyes. “Then tell me what I need to do.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “Cara just moved in. She’s not used to the place yet. She grew up sheltered — she needs looking after.” His gaze locked onto mine. “You know Lakeview Manor better than anyone. You go.” My entire body went rigid. I could barely believe what I was hearing. “What do you mean?” “Exactly what I said.” Liam knocked the ash off his cigarette, his tone as casual as if he were scheduling a staff member. “You go to Lakeview Manor and act as Cara’s personal attendant. Take care of her day-to-day needs, make sure she’s comfortable.” “If she’s satisfied, the money gets unfrozen. And if that’s not enough—” He paused. “There’s more where that came from.” Each word landed like a slap across my face. He wanted me to go to my mother’s house and wait on his mistress hand and foot. He wanted his precious girl to walk all over the most treasured memories I had left. And he was going to use my brother’s life to make sure I smiled while I did it. “Liam.” My voice shook despite everything. “Does it really have to be this way?” “You can always say no.” He turned and walked toward the bathroom. His voice drifted out through the sound of running water. “Take your brother and get out of my sight. As for what he owes — those people he borrowed from aren’t exactly patient. That’s your problem.” The water ran loud and steady. I stood there, cold all the way through. My face had gone the color of chalk. But my eyes were burning red. I walked to the bathroom door and stood there, looking at the blurred shape of him through the frosted glass. “Fine.” My voice was quiet. But it was clear. “I’ll go.” The water cut off. Liam pulled the door open. He was still damp, hair dripping. He looked into my eyes for a moment, like he was confirming something. Then he smiled and reached out to cup my face. “Good girl.” “I’ll have the driver take you to Lakeview Manor tomorrow morning.” “Remember, Ellie.” He dried his hair as he walked past me, his voice low. “Don’t upset Cara. Because next time, it won’t just be the check that gets frozen.” The bedroom door clicked softly shut in front of me. I went to the guest room and sat down on the cold bed in the dark. I didn’t turn on the light. The moon outside was bright, lighting up my empty hands. My phone lit up again. My brother. “Ellie, they called again. They said if we don’t pay soon, they’re going to—” I typed back fast. “Don’t be scared. The money will be there tomorrow. Rest and take care of yourself.” Sent. Then I buried my face in my palms. My shoulders shook, and I couldn’t make them stop. But my eyes were dry. Not a single tear.

The morning the driver took me to Lakeview Manor, he watched me in the rearview mirror with something that looked like pity. Cara was waiting in a silk robe, barefoot on my mother’s rug, tilting her head at me with a sweet smile. “Ellie, thanks for all your help.” “Of course.” I kept my eyes down. Her demands were endless. She wanted her morning smoothie made fresh by hand. She couldn’t stand water spots on the floor. When she and Liam were together at night, I had to stand outside the master bedroom door, holding a glass of warm water. I did all of it. Liam came every night. He’d sprawl on the couch, watching me get bossed around in every direction, a satisfied smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He was enjoying every second of my humiliation. One afternoon, Cara sent me up to the second-floor terrace to clean. I had barely gotten up there when she followed me, resting one hand lightly on her lower stomach. “Ellie. I’m pregnant.” My steps faltered. My heart felt like it had been struck with something heavy. “Liam is so happy about it.” She stroked her still-flat belly. “He said this is our first child together. He’s going to give this baby everything.” She moved closer, dropping her voice low. “But Ellie — with you still living in this house, I just can’t feel at ease. You’re still his wife. What if you get jealous of me and the baby and do something terrible?” I looked at her carefully. “What are you getting at?” “I mean—” Without warning, she grabbed my wrist. “Ah! Don’t push me! Ellie, let go! Help! My baby! Someone help me!” Screaming, she yanked on my hand and threw herself backward — pitching toward the staircase landing. It happened in a flash. I could see the gleam of triumph in the very back of her eyes even as she fell. “Thud.” The heavy sound of a body rolling down stairs, tangled with a woman’s agonized cries, filled the entire house. I stood frozen on the landing, my fingertips ice-cold. The next second, rapid footsteps pounded up from below. Liam took the stairs almost at a run. Cara lay crumpled at the bottom of the staircase, curled in on herself, a deep red stain spreading slowly beneath her. “Cara!” Liam’s face turned ashen. He rushed over and gathered her in his arms, his voice cracking. “Are you okay? I’m here — I’ve got you!” Cara leaned into his chest, her eyes fluttering open weakly, tears pouring down her face. She raised a trembling hand and pointed up at me. “Liam — she pushed me. She hates me. She hates our baby—” Liam looked up at me. The hatred in his eyes could have cut me to pieces. “It wasn’t me—” My denial was thin and useless. He didn’t even let me finish. He shoved to his feet, clamped his hand around my wrist, and started dragging me toward the small door behind the staircase. “Liam, listen to me!” I struggled, being hauled toward the basement entrance — the one place in this house I’d been terrified of since I was a little girl. When I was young, I’d been trapped in there. I’d developed severe claustrophobia because of it. Liam knew that. “No! Liam! You know I can’t go in there!” I fought against him, my voice shaking. He stopped. He turned and looked at me, his eyes cold and flat. “That’s exactly why it’s a punishment.” The door swung open. Stale, damp air rushed out, along with a faint scratching sound. Mice. Every muscle in my body locked up. My blood ran cold. Liam shoved me in. Darkness swallowed everything. “Bang.” The door slammed shut. “Let me out! Liam! Please!” I pounded on the door and screamed. Silence on the other side. Just the dark, and the sound of scratching getting closer. The claustrophobia hit like a wave. The air felt like it was being sucked out of the room. The walls seemed to press in. I couldn’t breathe. My chest was caving in. I curled against the door, trembling violently. Cold sweat soaked through my clothes. In the dark, every tiny sound was amplified. I squeezed my eyes shut. Tears ran down my face. “Mom…” My voice came out ragged and small. “Mom, I’m scared…” No answer. Liam wasn’t coming. He wanted me to suffer here — for Cara, for the baby. My body grew colder and colder. My thoughts began to blur. In the haze, I thought I heard the lock turning. Was it Liam? I tried to push myself up off the floor, but I had no strength left. Just before everything went dark, I thought I saw the door crack open. But I couldn’t make out anything anymore. And just before I lost consciousness entirely, I saw a familiar figure rushing toward me through the dark.

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My husband Adrian was in the late stages of a brain tumor and had fallen into brain death. Friends and family all urged me: “Evelyn, let him go peacefully. Don’t make him suffer anymore.” Grief-stricken, I went home to sort through our memories, only to find farewell letters he’d written to friends and family before. The handwriting was messy, but it clearly stated that after his death, he wanted to donate his heart to his son with his first love. At the end, he’d specifically added a line: “Don’t let my wife know.” My blood instantly froze. So he’d had a child with another woman all along. My tears suddenly stopped. I wiped my face and dialed the hospital: “I agree to withdraw treatment. Arrange for cremation.” Later, when friends and family saw my husband’s ashes, they all stared wide-eyed: “How could you…” My gaze swept coldly over them. “Weren’t you the ones who told me to give him a quick release?” Friends and family were speechless, exchanging confused glances. Only Adrian’s ghost, floating beside me, looked completely shocked. He reached out to touch the urn, but his fingers passed straight through the wooden surface. “Evelyn! Have you lost your mind?!” His voice trembled with panic: “How could you do this? Noah is still waiting for my heart to save his life!” I ignored his insane rambling and held the urn expressionlessly. Friends and family were still whispering among themselves. Someone tentatively asked: “Evelyn, did Adrian leave any… last words?” I gripped the urn tighter, my knuckles turning white. “He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even leave a note. I just followed your advice and let him leave quickly.” The people present didn’t know what to say after hearing my words. Adrian’s ghost paced frantically in circles, his screams almost piercing my eardrums: “Noah is only seven years old. He has a congenital heart condition. Only my heart can save him! I know I wronged you, but the child is innocent. Just do this one good deed, okay?” I pulled at the corner of my mouth, revealing a faint, cold smile. Innocent? What about the grievances my daughter and I suffered all these years? Over the past few years, he’d always come home late, claiming he was working overtime or on business trips. He’d occasionally smell of perfume that wasn’t mine. His wallet would have tickets to children’s amusement parks I’d never been to. Time and again, I deceived myself, thinking it was just emotional distance from his worsening condition. Until this farewell letter completely tore apart all pretenses. “Adrian,” I spoke to the air, my voice cold as ice. “When you wrote those letters, you thought about keeping it from me. You thought about leaving a way out for someone else’s child. But did you ever think about Lily and me?” Friends and family exchanged confused looks. No one knew who I was talking to. They just thought I was overcome with grief. Someone softly consoled me: “Evelyn, don’t be too sad. The dead can’t come back. The living have to move forward.” I didn’t respond and just turned to leave. Of course I had to move forward now that the scumbag was dead. Adrian’s ghost followed behind me, cursing incessantly: “Evelyn, you’re heartless! You’ll face retribution! If Noah dies, I won’t let you go even as a ghost!” I turned a deaf ear, my steps never faltering. Retribution? My greatest retribution was marrying the wrong man and staying in a marriage full of lies.

Adrian’s funeral was kept simple, with only a few friends and family in attendance. I wore a black dress, holding six-year-old Lily as we stood in a corner. Lily’s small hand gripped my clothes tightly, her big eyes full of confusion: “Mommy, where did Daddy go? He promised to build blocks with me.” My heart felt like it was being pricked with needles. I gently stroked her head: “Daddy went to a far away place. He’ll watch Lily grow up from heaven.” Adrian’s ghost floated in mid-air, his face pale as he looked at us with complicated eyes. After the cremation, he’d been following me like this, constantly cursing me as vicious. When he tired of cursing, he’d fall silent, but the resentment in his eyes never diminished. Now, hearing my conversation with Lily, a crack appeared in his hateful expression, and his body trembled slightly. He reached out to touch our daughter, but could only pass futilely through the air. Suddenly, a woman’s shrill cry came from outside, along with chaotic footsteps and several men and women’s voices echoing. Melissa wore a garish white dress, followed by her brother Marcus and sister-in-law Jennifer. They broke through the blockade of friends and family, rushing at me like madwomen: “Evelyn! How can you be so vicious!” Melissa pointed at my nose, her voice piercingly shrill. “Adrian clearly agreed long ago that after death, he’d donate his heart to Noah. What right do you have to cremate him behind everyone’s back?” Marcus immediately chimed in, his tone indignant: “Exactly! How can someone be so heartless? A living child is waiting in the hospital for his life to be saved, and you can be this selfish!” Jennifer also fanned the flames, her face full of contempt: “Adrian loved Noah like his own son when he was alive. You won’t even fulfill his last wish? People like you will face divine punishment sooner or later!” The three of them looked righteous, as if they’d really come for Adrian’s dying wish. The originally noisy scene instantly fell into deathly silence. All eyes turned toward us, filled with scrutiny and curiosity. Lily was so frightened by their fierce manner that she trembled and quickly shrank into my arms, her small hands tightly hugging my neck. I held my daughter tighter and looked up, coldly sweeping my gaze over Melissa and her group: “This is a place to honor the deceased. Stop making a scene here.” “Making a scene?” Melissa laughed coldly. “You bitch, you still have the nerve to say I’m making a scene? Tell me, what right do you have to block the heart donation? Adrian was willing. He wanted to save Noah! Who are you to decide on your own?” “Because I, Evelyn, am his legal wife.” I stepped forward, my gaze sharp as a knife, my tone full of undisguised mockery. “According to the law, I have the absolute right to decide what to do with his body. You say he agreed to donate his heart—what evidence do you have? He never mentioned donating his heart after death to me.” I turned to look at Marcus and Jennifer, my tone icy: “As for you two, who are you to criticize my rights over my husband’s body?” Melissa still wanted to argue, craning her neck: “Adrian said it himself before he died. He even wrote a letter! The letter said he’d give his heart to Noah!” “A letter?” I sneered, my voice not loud but clearly reaching every corner. “Adrian wrote a letter, and I, his wife, didn’t know about it? Can you produce it?” Melissa froze in place. Of course she didn’t have the letter, because I’d already burned it. I hadn’t expected them to be so bold as to not even keep a backup. Looking at her stunned expression, I continued: “What right do you have to question me? During the days when Adrian was bedridden with a brain tumor, you came by frequently enough, but every time it was either saying Noah needed expensive imported medicine or high-end rehabilitation therapy. The money Adrian gave you was squandered in the blink of an eye. Now that he’s dead, you remember to play the good guys?” When Adrian and Melissa were dating, Melissa left him for a wealthy man and went abroad. Adrian was devastated, and it was I who stayed by his side as he rebuilt his life. Just when life was finally getting better, Melissa came back with her sick son. That spineless man actually softened. He kept lying to me, saying he just couldn’t ignore them for old times’ sake. Though I had my doubts, I decided to trust him, until I saw his letter. My words were like thunder. The faces of Melissa’s family of three instantly turned deathly pale, bloodless. Marcus instinctively looked away, not daring to meet my eyes. Jennifer also pressed her lips tightly together, unable to say a word, their earlier arrogance vanishing without a trace. I didn’t bother saying more and signaled to the people at the door with a look. Several people immediately stepped forward, restraining the three who were still trying to struggle. “Don’t touch me! Evelyn, you’ll die a horrible death! If something happens to Noah, I’ll never let you go!” Melissa struggled frantically but to no avail. She could only be thrown out of the funeral hall. Adrian’s ghost hovered nearby, frantically circling but unable to do anything, only staring at me with hateful eyes.

After the funeral, I immediately took over Adrian’s company. As his legal wife and original shareholder, this was my right. Adrian’s ghost could only watch helplessly. When I went to the company, he floated in corners, watching me work, constantly cursing, basically accusing me of not understanding business and that I’d eventually destroy his life’s work. During contract signings with partners, just as my pen touched the paper, his roar would sound in my ear: “Noah is still fighting for his life in the hospital, and here you are looking so smug. You’ll pay the price sooner or later.” On the way to inspect branch offices, he followed close behind, coldly mocking: “Stop pretending. Without me as your backing, you’re just an ordinary nobody.” I ignored his ranting the entire time. To me, Adrian was no longer the person I once shared a bed with, just a handful of cold ashes buried in the earth, not even worth getting angry over. That afternoon, I finished work early and drove to pick up Lily from kindergarten. While still some distance from the kindergarten gate, I spotted Melissa with Jennifer, crouched in front of Lily. Jennifer’s fingers were gripping the child’s wrist tightly, refusing to let go. Lily’s eyes were red, her small face full of fear, but she stubbornly pressed her lips together, not letting tears fall. “Let her go!” I rushed forward, swatting away Jennifer’s hand and pulling Lily protectively into my arms. Lily burrowed into my embrace, her weak voice tearful: “Mommy…” Melissa and Jennifer stumbled from my push, both with red, swollen eyes and tear-stained faces. Parents picking up their children gathered around at the sight. “Evelyn, please help me.” Melissa dropped to her knees with a thud, nearly sobbing. “Noah can’t hold on much longer. The hospital searched everywhere but couldn’t find a match. Lily might be compatible with him. Just draw a little blood for testing. If it really works, please save him, okay?” Jennifer also started wiping tears, chiming in: “Evelyn, the child is innocent. Just do this good deed. Adrian is watching from heaven and will be grateful for your mercy.” The two sang the same tune, every word morally blackmailing me, trying to use public opinion to force me to compromise. In the crowd, a white-haired old lady softened first, sighing: “Young lady, it’s a living life. Help if you can.” “Yes, it’s not right to refuse to save a dying person.” Another middle-aged woman also looked at me accusingly. Hearing these words, Melissa cried even more miserably, looking up at me with pleading in her voice: “Evelyn, I know I wronged you, but Noah is also Adrian’s child, Lily’s brother! You can’t be so heartless and just watch him die.” I laughed coldly: “During Adrian’s brain tumor when he was bedridden, who kept pestering him, deliberately aggravating his condition? And who took his money and squandered it recklessly, completely indifferent to his health? Now that he’s barely gone, you’re still not satisfied and are targeting my daughter?” I turned to look at the gathered parents, my voice clear and firm: “Everyone, put yourselves in my shoes. If your husband concealed his marriage and had a child with a mistress, and the mistress kept coming around demanding money, and on his deathbed your husband’s only thought was saving that illegitimate child, and finally, the mistress forced your own daughter to donate her heart to save that child’s life—would you agree?” The surrounding murmurs instantly ceased. The parents who had just implied I was heartless changed their expressions dramatically. Looking at Melissa and Jennifer, their eyes held only undisguised contempt and disgust. “So she’s a homewrecker who destroyed someone’s family. Shameless!” “She even scammed money and squandered it, and now she’s morally blackmailing. I wouldn’t agree either!” “She caused her own karma and now wants to drag someone else’s child down with her. This is too much!” Accusations rose one after another. Melissa and Jennifer’s faces turned deathly pale as they collapsed weakly on the ground, their lips trembling, unable to utter a single word of defense. I looked down and gently stroked Lily’s hair, softly comforting her: “Don’t be afraid, Lily. Mommy will take you home.” Adrian’s gaze fell on Lily in my arms, the guilt in his expression deepening, but he remained silent, unable to say a word. I understood his struggle—on one side was the daughter he’d neglected for years, on the other the illegitimate son whose life hung by a thread. But all this predicament was created by his own hands. His lips moved slightly, a weak voice emerging: “Evelyn, I know I was wrong, but Noah…” I didn’t acknowledge him and drove away. An apology could never make up for the harm he’d caused us. And Noah’s life or death had always been the karmic debt between him and Melissa, nothing to do with Lily and me.

Adrian’s ghost lingered by my side day and night, repeating the same plea over and over: “Just let Lily do the compatibility test. It’s just drawing one tube of blood. What if she’s a match? Noah really can’t wait any longer.” I was setting out Lily’s dinner when I looked up, my gaze coldly sweeping over his ethereal form: “And if she matches? Then what? Make Lily give her heart to the bastard child? Can Noah just die then?” Adrian’s anxiety made his ghostly form ripple, his tone full of desperate justification: “It’s just compatibility testing! It’s not deciding on donation! Noah is also my child. I can’t just watch him die!” “Your child?” I put down the utensils and laughed coldly. “When you were having your fun behind this family’s back, didn’t you think Lily was also your flesh and blood? For Melissa and her son, you neglected us mother and daughter for years. Now you have the nerve to make demands of me?” “During those days when you were bedridden with a brain tumor, I stayed by your side every moment, caring for you. But behind my back, you secretly transferred money to Melissa, even planning early on to donate your heart to save her child. Did you ever think that if you’d been honest from the start, we might have had room to work things out? But from beginning to end, you treated me like a fool, deceiving me!” These words left Adrian speechless. He could only pace frantically in place, his ghost flickering, his eyes churning with unwillingness and despair. I’d still underestimated Melissa’s madness. The next afternoon, I was chairing a senior management meeting when my phone rang at an inopportune moment. The caller ID showed Lily’s homeroom teacher, her tone full of hesitation and unease: “Lily’s mom, a lady just came to pick up Lily, saying she was the child’s aunt and that you asked her to take Lily to the dentist. I verified the photos of you on her phone and let her take the child. But thinking it over, I should confirm with you.” Those words were like a bucket of ice water poured over my entire body. I had no sisters, and I’d never asked anyone to pick up Lily! “That was a scammer!” My voice trembled uncontrollably, my fingers gripping the phone turning white. “What did she look like? What was she wearing?” After hearing the teacher’s description, my heart sank. I was certain it was Melissa. She dared to openly abduct my daughter! I immediately interrupted the meeting, quickly briefed my assistant on follow-up matters, grabbed my car keys and rushed out the door. On the way to the parking lot, I immediately opened Lily’s smartwatch location. The little red dot on the screen was rapidly moving toward the downtown hospital. I sped toward the hospital, the gas pedal floored, gripping the steering wheel tightly, my palms covered in cold sweat, my heart pounding almost out of my chest. Only one thought filled my mind: Lily can’t get hurt. Arriving outside the pediatric ward, I immediately spotted Melissa and Marcus guarding the door, their faces wearing strange, triumphant smiles. Through the glass of the ward door, I vaguely saw several doctors surrounding Lily, seemingly preparing instruments for pre-surgical examination. I rushed over and grabbed Melissa by the collar, fury burning my throat, my voice trembling with extreme anger: “You actually dared to kidnap my daughter!” Melissa struggled forcefully to push me away, her eyes full of crazed stubbornness: “You refused to budge. I had no choice but to use this method! Noah can’t hold on much longer. I absolutely won’t let him die!” Marcus also stepped forward, pushing me and threatening fiercely: “Evelyn, if you know what’s good for you, just let Lily do the compatibility test. Otherwise don’t blame us for not being polite!” “Dream on!” I slammed open the ward door and rushed over to pull Lily protectively into my arms. Seeing me, Lily’s pent-up fear instantly exploded. She burst into tears, her small hands tightly hugging my neck: “Mommy! I’m scared! They want to stick me with needles!” I raised my hand to shield Lily’s head and looked up at the doctors present: “Without my signed consent, anyone who touches a single hair on my daughter’s head will answer for it!” The ward instantly descended into chaos. Adrian’s ghost floated in a corner, watching Lily crying non-stop. A flash of fleeting guilt crossed his eyes, but the next second he was still shouting at me: “Evelyn, it’s just a test. It won’t hurt Lily!” Just then, a nurse rushed in hurriedly, saying loudly to Melissa: “Ms. Thompson, good news! A brain-dead car accident patient is a compatible match, and the family is willing to donate!” Melissa let out a shriek of wild joy, tears mixed with excitement sliding down: “Really? That’s wonderful! Noah is saved!” Adrian’s ghost also trembled violently with excitement. The look he gave me was full of mockery and triumph: “See that? Even without Lily, Noah can live! No matter how heartless you are, you can’t stop him from surviving!” Melissa’s eyes were red, her face wearing a twisted smile: “Evelyn, even heaven is helping us! You’ll go to hell sooner or later!” Holding Lily, I had no extra words. I turned and walked out of the ward. As long as Lily was safe, I didn’t care about their taunts and triumph. Noah’s surgery went smoothly. Melissa specifically sent me a text, which I deleted directly. I thought everything would end there, but a week later, Adrian’s ghost appeared again, his eyes full of despair and pain: “Evelyn, are you satisfied now? Noah is dead.”

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On our wedding anniversary, I put on lingerie and waited for Ethan to come home. I waited from morning until late at night, until a news notification popped up. “Movie star Ethan Lucas found dead after jumping from hotel rooftop, confirmed to be a suicide for love following actress Stella Summers.” “Last words: ‘My greatest regret in this life is not being with Stella. If there’s a next life, I will definitely marry Stella.’” Not a single word about me. Later, fans said I drove the Best Actor to his death. They blocked my door and threw red paint. They shoved me. They cursed at me. I was pushed down the steps and hit my head on the stone slab. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in the dressing room backstage at a film festival. In the mirror was my twenty-five-year-old self, having just won Best Screenwriter. My eyes reddened. In this life, I would live for myself. The door was pushed open. Ethan Lucas stood before me in the dark suit he’d worn to accept his award. Twenty-six years old, with features so handsome they were almost sharp. His expression softened slightly when he saw me, and a smile touched his lips. “Evelyn, congratulations. You won Best Screenwriter.” I nodded slightly. “Why don’t you come in and sit?” “No, I’m in a hurry.” He froze for a moment. In my past life, I never refused him, even when he called at 3 AM demanding I revise the seventeenth draft. “Then I’ll come out to talk to you.” He stepped forward and deliberately lowered his voice. “I know you also remember our past life.” Wind swept in from the end of the corridor. I didn’t respond. “This lifetime will be different. Everything I owed you, I’ll make up for it all.” When he said this, there was light in his eyes, so sincere you’d almost believe him. But I remembered that in our past life, he’d said similar things during our first year of marriage. “I can’t focus on filming when you’re not with me,” so I gave up that international co-production project and flew with him to Vancouver. Only later did I learn he didn’t need my company. He needed me to free up my hands to help Stella revise that scene she could never get right. “Thank you for the kind thought, but it’s not necessary.” I took half a step back. At that moment, the sound of high heels clicking on the floor came from inside the lounge, and Stella Summers walked out. As soon as she saw me, she smiled and opened her arms wide. “Evelyn!” The hug was perfectly measured, and when she released me, she naturally hooked her arm through mine. “Your acceptance speech was amazing! I was watching the livestream inside and cried so hard my makeup ran, you know?” “That monologue from the female lead was written like it was custom-made for me. If I could ever play one of your characters someday, my life would be complete.” The exact same lines. In my past life, she’d said the same thing, and then I spent fifty years creating over a dozen roles custom-tailored for her. She put her name on them and won two Best Actress awards. Right up until I died, everyone in the industry thought those works came from Stella Summers’s hand. “Stella, you’re very talented. You don’t need my scripts to win awards.” I pulled my arm free. Stella’s smile froze for half a beat. She quickly glanced at Ethan, and her voice grew even softer. “Evelyn is too modest. Ethan said so too–he wants you to write his next project. The three of us working together would be perfect.” When she said this, she placed herself and Ethan side by side in the front, with me as the attached third party. The best positions were always theirs. I was just a bonus item. “We’ll talk about it later. I’m leaving now.” I turned and walked toward the other end of the corridor. Silence followed for a few seconds. Then Stella’s voice came through, lowered. “What’s wrong with her? Does she also remember the past life?” Ethan’s tone was light, as if amused. “It’s nothing. She won’t go far. She never goes far.”

Three days after the film festival ended, I received an invitation from a French production company. They’d seen my award-winning work and wanted to collaborate on a cross-border crime thriller. This was the project I’d given up in my past life. I’d remembered the producer’s name for a full fifty years. In that life, it had won Stella an international critics’ award, with Stella Summers listed in the screenwriter credits. While I was reviewing the contract in my studio, my phone lit up. Ethan Lucas. “Are you free tonight? There’s something I want to discuss with you in person.” “What is it?” “You’ll know when you get here.” I didn’t go. He called three more times. The fourth call came from Stella’s number. “Evelyn, why aren’t you answering Ethan’s calls? He’s so worried.” “I’m busy.” “Busy with what? Did you take that foreign project?” Her tone was as light as if she were asking what I’d had for dinner. “Evelyn, is that kind of small-team project really worth your time? Ethan has a major production, Director Marcus Kane’s project of the year. Everyone’s fighting for it.” “He said this script can only be written by you.” A pause. “And if you go to France, who will help me with my lines? Remember that crying scene? I revised it eight times before getting it right. Only the version you revised could I actually perform.” In my past life, the year I was pregnant, she’d said the exact same thing. “Evelyn, if you leave, no one can revise my scripts. If I don’t perform well, he’ll be disappointed.” That time, I’d turned down a major director’s invitation. “You can find other screenwriters. There are plenty of good ones.” The other end of the line went silent for a long time. Stella’s voice suddenly carried a note of grievance. “Evelyn, you’ve changed. You weren’t like this before.” “Before, I gave up too much for you two.” “Gave up? What do you mean? Aren’t we good friends? Isn’t it normal for friends to help each other?” She genuinely thought it was justified. I hung up. At eleven that night, someone knocked on my studio door. Ethan stood outside, his suit jacket draped over his forearm, looking like he’d just rushed over from some event. “Since you won’t answer your phone, I had to come in person.” “How did you know I was here?” “I have my ways.” He leaned against the doorframe, his expression mild. “I looked into the French project. The production team there isn’t mature. It’s too risky for you to go alone.” “That’s not your concern.” “I’m not concerned–I just don’t want you wasting your time.” He looked at me, his tone slowing. “Stay domestic and work with me. If you write the script for Marcus Kane’s film, winning an award is a sure thing.” “I don’t need to win awards through you.” His expression cracked slightly, like he’d been stung, but he quickly recovered that composed smile. “Still upset. That’s okay. I’ll wait for you to come around.” He pulled a business card from his pocket and placed it on the table. It bore his management company’s logo and a title I’d never seen before: Associate Producer. He’d already positioned me as a piece on his chessboard. He just hadn’t informed me yet. “By the way, I already spoke to Marcus Kane, told him you’d write this script.” I looked up at him. “You said what?” “I secured you a credited screenwriter position. The terms are very good.” He said it casually, as if notifying me of something already decided. I didn’t ask if he’d consulted me. In my past life, he never asked either. When he needed me, he arranged everything. When he didn’t, he wouldn’t even make a phone call. “You can decline it for me.” He paused as he pulled the door open to leave, then looked back at me. “You won’t actually leave this industry. You can’t leave here, and you can’t leave me.” The door closed. The business card still sat on the table. As I picked it up to throw in the trash, my phone vibrated. A number I’d saved long ago but never dialed sent me a message. “Evelyn, I’m in France and happen to know the producer you mentioned. If you need help, you can contact me. Vincent Gould.”

Two weeks later, I attended an industry gala with the initial draft of the French project. Everyone in the industry knew I’d won Best Screenwriter, and quite a few directors and producers came over to hand me their cards. I was discussing a project with Director Marcus Kane when Ethan Lucas emerged from the crowd. He held two glasses of champagne and naturally handed one to me. “Director Kane, this is Evelyn Shaw. I mentioned her to you before.” Marcus Kane nodded. “So you’re this year’s Best Screenwriter. I’ve been wanting to meet you.” Ethan jumped in quickly. “She does write well, but she’s quite emotional. For major projects, she needs someone to help her control the pacing.” Marcus Kane glanced at the distance between the two of us. “Are you two together?” “Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time.” He answered the question for me, his tone as certain as if announcing a news item. I put the champagne glass back in his hand. “Director Kane, Ethan and I are just colleagues. His words don’t represent me.” Ethan stood there holding two glasses of wine, his expression frozen for two seconds. Marcus Kane laughed awkwardly. Stella appeared at that moment. She wore a red slit gown that drew every eye in the room. She walked over and naturally hooked her arm through Ethan’s, giving Marcus Kane a sweet smile. “Hello, Director Kane. Oh, Evelyn’s here too.” Her gaze swept over the folder of my initial draft, and her eyes lit up. “Evelyn, did you write something new? Can I take a look?” I closed the folder. “This is my own project.” Stella wasn’t affected by my attitude. She turned to face Marcus Kane. “Director Kane, did you know? A lot of the inspiration for Evelyn’s award-winning work actually came from discussions between Ethan and me. The three of us have always been a team–she handles the writing, I handle the acting, and Ethan handles production supervision.” Ethan nodded beside her. “That’s right. We’re a complete unit.” I stood there feeling like people were propping me up on both sides. It was the same in my past life. When my scripts won awards, they said it was team collaboration. When my creativity was recognized, they said it was the result of collective discussion. Until eventually everyone thought I was just a ghostwriting tool. Marcus Kane looked hesitant. “So is this award-winning work a collaboration or an independent creation?” Stella’s eyes curved in a smile. “How should I put it? Every female lead in there has my shadow. You could say she wrote them based on me.” I spoke up. “No. Those characters have nothing to do with you.” As my words fell, the conversations at several nearby tables quieted for half a beat. Stella’s smile froze on her face. Ethan put down his wine glass and stepped toward me. “Evelyn, there’s no need to split hairs like this on an occasion like this.” “Facts are facts. Every single word of those scripts, from the first to the last, was written by me alone.” He clenched his fist then released it, saying in a volume only I could hear: “Are you planning to offend everyone tonight?” Stella’s eyes had already reddened. Her tears fell at just the right moment–not enough to ruin her makeup, but enough to make people nearby feel sorry for her. “Evelyn, I’m not trying to steal your credit. I just thought since our relationship is so good, we didn’t need to divide things so clearly.” Ethan reflexively handed her a tissue. Everyone was watching the three of us, like watching a play. I picked up my folder and turned to leave. As I reached the door, my phone vibrated. Vincent Gould ‘s assistant had sent a message: “Evelyn, the French production company has confirmed the funding plan. Also, Vincent would like to meet with you next week.” A hand reached from the side and darkened my phone screen. It was Ethan. His gaze swept over the last few words of that message, and his face darkened. “Vincent Gould? What’s your relationship with him?” “A relationship that’s none of your business.” He grabbed my wrist. “Evelyn, stay away from people like that from now on. You’re a screenwriter, not a businesswoman. Don’t let capital lead you around by the nose.” I looked down at his fingers. “Ethan, let go.” He slowly released his grip. The veins on his knuckles were still jumping. “I’m doing this for your own good.” I rubbed my wrist and walked toward the exit. Stella’s shrill voice chased after me from behind. “Evelyn, don’t blame Ethan. He’s really just worried about you. We’re all doing this for your own good–why can’t you understand?” She was crying beautifully. I didn’t acknowledge her. The next day, a video of Stella crying at the gala was posted online. The title read: “Best Screenwriter Evelyn Shaw Publicly Humiliates Best Actress Stella Summers.” The comments flooded in like a tide. “What kind of person makes someone as gentle as Stella cry?” “Evelyn Shaw has such a terrible personality, no wonder no one in the industry works with her.” In the video, Stella’s tears were beautiful, her grievance and innocence perfectly calibrated. The shot of Ethan handing her a tissue was also clipped out, and the comments section had already started shipping them as a couple. Meanwhile, my line “Those characters have nothing to do with you” was cut out separately and looped with background music. No one clipped the context of Stella saying “she writes, I act.” No one clipped Ethan’s original words: “We’re a complete unit.” What took fifty years to see clearly in my past life took only two weeks in this one. On the third day after the controversy erupted, the French production company called. “Evelyn, someone sent us a formal letter claiming your award-winning work allegedly used Stella Summers’s creative ideas and involves copyright disputes.”

I gripped my phone tight. “Who sent it?” “It’s signed by Ethan Lucas’s studio.” I sat at my desk, my fingers ice-cold. The French project was suspended. When Ethan came to find me that afternoon, I was organizing contracts on my desk. He pushed the door open, scanned the room, and saw documents scattered across the floor. “Feeling better now?” I ignored him. “I suppressed a few trending topics about the gala incident for you, but you should at least apologize to Stella. She’s petty–just sweet-talk her a bit and it’ll blow over.” He leaned against the sofa armrest, his tone like he was arranging a household matter. I looked up. “The French production company received a complaint letter from your studio.” He didn’t deny it. “That project isn’t right for you.” “So you made the decision for me.” “I’m helping you cut your losses. The production team there isn’t reliable. The risk of you going alone is too high. I’m not comfortable with it.” When he said “not comfortable,” it was with a tone of natural authority, as if he had the right to dictate my life. He was the same in my past life. “Someone in the family has to sacrifice, and you need rest more than I do.” Said with consideration and tenderness, executed without hesitation. Then my pen became a spatula, and my name became an appendage to his. “Ethan, listen carefully. We were never together, and we never will be. My scripts, my projects, my life–they have nothing to do with you.” He stood up and braced both hands on the desk edge, his gaze finally turning dark. “Evelyn, calm down. You think you can write anything without me? I opened half the doors in this industry for you.” “No. You just stood inside the doors I pushed open and took credit.” His face instantly turned ugly. The sound of hurried high heels came from the doorway, and Stella rushed in. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she grabbed my hand. “Evelyn, I’m sorry. I really didn’t know the video would blow up like that. Are you angry at me? You can’t leave. If you leave, what about my next project? The director said if it’s not your script, he won’t use me.” She spoke while crying. “I really can’t perform what other people write. Only the characters you create can I win awards with.” I looked at her tears, then at Ethan’s dark expression. Suddenly I felt like I couldn’t breathe. In my past life, it was in these tears and “it’s all for your own good” that I gradually lost myself, step by step. “Stella, you’re a Best Actress. You can play any role. Ethan, you’re a Best Actor. You don’t need my scripts. The only person who needs to extract themselves from this relationship is me.” I picked up my bag and headed for the door. Ethan blocked my path. “You can’t leave. You think there’s anyone out there who understands you better than I do? That Vincent Gould you’re looking for–do you think he’s interested in your talent or your face?” I looked up into his eyes. “Guess who I’ll choose.” He was pinned in place by that sentence. I walked around him and pushed the door open. When I reached the middle of the corridor, I heard a phone vibrate behind me. Not mine. From Ethan’s pocket. I didn’t turn back, because I knew what that notification was. Ten minutes ago, I’d personally pressed the share button on that message. His voice chased after me from behind, carrying a final note of certainty. “Just how far are you going to take this tantrum?” I stopped at the end of the corridor, waving my phone. “Ethan, please check the headlines. I already have a husband. Please stop pestering me from now on.”

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On my 29th birthday, Ethan White was once again called away by a single phone call from his adopted daughter, Lillian Lynn. Furious, I posted on Ins with privacy settings so only he could see it—practically a marriage ultimatum. “Goal: Get married before I turn 30!” The next second, a provocative message from Lillian popped up. A messy hotel bed, torn black stockings scattered among a pile of used condoms. The attached video showed a man’s silhouette showering behind frosted glass—a figure I’d recognize even with my eyes closed. He finally couldn’t resist. He’d slept with his own adopted daughter. The moment my phone screen went dark, the world fell silent except for my heartbeat. I stared at the mango cake on the table with a slice missing, and suddenly laughed. He’d left in such a rush earlier that I didn’t even get to tell him I was allergic to mangoes. But in nearly ten years together, he could remember Lillian’s lactose intolerance yet couldn’t remember my mango allergy. Was this my failure, or had he simply stopped loving me long ago? Unwillingness grew wild like weeds in my chest. I grabbed my car keys and rushed out the door. I set the GPS for New York’s most exclusive private club. Ethan had mentioned this morning that a friend was returning to the country tonight, and he’d be there for a welcome dinner. Outside the private room, the heavy glass door stood slightly ajar. Noise and the smell of smoke and alcohol drifted out. Just as I was about to push the door open, a familiar voice made my hand freeze mid-air. It was Ethan’s best friend, Connor Zeller. The man’s voice carried the excitement of alcohol: “Ethan, you just left Natalie hanging to go comfort your adopted daughter. Aren’t you afraid she’ll blow up?” Ethan’s lazy voice responded with its usual carelessness: “Natalie?” He chuckled lightly before continuing: “She’s sensible and knows her boundaries. She won’t make a fuss over these trivial matters.” My heart plummeted straight down. See, he understood me so well. Understood my weaknesses, my tendency to give in. “But Lillian is different!” His tone suddenly turned serious, even carrying a hint of helpless indulgence. “She’s young and immature. If I don’t indulge her a bit, she might really do something I’d regret for the rest of my life.” Connor clicked his tongue, his tone ambiguous and drawn out: “So… you indulged her all the way into bed? Took the girl’s first time?” As soon as the words fell, knowing laughter erupted from inside the room. Ethan took a sip of his drink, speaking as if it were perfectly natural: “She attracts too much attention. So many eyes in our circle are on her.” “If some clueless guy took advantage of her, how could I face Mr. Lynn ‘s deathbed request?” “Rather than let someone else deceive her, I might as well watch over her myself.” Making infidelity sound so refreshingly noble. Connor lit a cigarette, laughing through the haze: “Holy shit! But aren’t you afraid Natalie will find out? That she’ll turn on you?” “Her!” Ethan snorted with laughter, his tone absolutely certain. “She’s almost thirty. Besides me, who else could she find?” The air went quiet for a moment. As if suddenly remembering something, he added casually: “Although Natalie’s only been with me…” “Whether I was her first, heh, that’s really hard to say!” “Bang–!” Something exploded in my brain, leaving it completely blank. Connor immediately caught on knowingly: “Right, right! That whole thing with Mr. Hughes back then!” “Although Natalie insists nothing happened, a man and woman alone in a private room for that long, her clothes all torn up—who really knows?” Someone else immediately chimed in with a snide remark: “Medical technology these days is so advanced, getting a hymen repaired is nothing.” “If you ask me, Ethan, you shouldn’t have gotten together with her in the first place!” Another voice carried fawning agreement, delivering the ultimate verdict: “When it comes to women, you need someone like Lillian—grew up under your nose since she was fifteen, completely transparent.” “Home-grown is cleaner than those wild things with unknown backgrounds!” Ethan finally spoke up to interrupt, his tone unreadable but carrying a trace of barely perceptible impatience: “Enough, let’s not talk about her anymore.”

Outside the door, I felt like I’d fallen into an icy abyss. I never imagined this was how Ethan saw me. My memory violently dragged me back ten years to that chaotic night. Kira Yarrow, who had always helped me, was working part-time at a club when she was cornered in a private room by Mr. Hughes and his group. Over the phone, she was crying so hard she could barely breathe. When I burst in, she was curled up in a corner, her dress already torn beyond recognition. Mr. Hughes ‘s greasy hand was reaching toward her. Without thinking, I grabbed an empty bottle from the table and smashed it over his lackey’s head. After a dull thud, the lackey went down. Mr. Hughes slapped me across the face in return, the sting sharp and hot. “Bitch dares to fight back?” He grabbed my hair and dragged me across the floor. My scalp felt like it was splitting open. But when fear reaches its peak, it somehow births courage. I don’t know where the strength came from, but I kicked him right in his groin. The pain made him release me. I lunged at him, my fists raining down like hail. Mr. Hughes ended up sprawled on the ground groaning. When Kira arrived with Ethan, they found me looking like a “shrew.” Disheveled clothes, messy hair, but having beaten a pig-like man into begging for mercy. What was Ethan’s expression then? Confused, shocked, then his lips slowly curved up, his eyes shining remarkably bright. On the way to the police station for our statements, he drove with his mouth constantly turned up. “Hey, you’re Natalie Yates, right?” “You look like a little white rabbit, but how can you be so fierce when you fight?” “Which school do you go to? Can I get your contact info?” I was so tired my eyelids were fighting each other, and I snapped back irritably: “You want a beating too?” He didn’t get angry. Instead, he laughed softly. At the police station, the old officer looked at me, his brow furrowed tight. “Young lady, you’ve got some guts! Going in there alone?” “Two grown men on the other side—weren’t you afraid of getting killed?” I forced a smile, my face aching terribly: “I’m an orphan with no parents. My life’s worthless.” “If it weren’t for Kira, I don’t know how many times I would’ve died already.” “Anyone who touches her, I’ll fight to the death.” As my words fell, the young officer taking notes paused his pen. The old officer sighed and said nothing more. Beside me, Ethan, who had been silent, suddenly looked at me. The playfulness and interest in his eyes instantly faded. Replaced by a complex emotion. I didn’t understand it then. Only later did I realize—it was called heartache. Outside the police station, the late-night wind carried a chill. I shivered. Kira had been taken to the hospital first by Ethan’s friend. On the empty street, only Ethan and I remained. He suddenly reached out and pulled me into a corner against the wall. “Natalie Yates.” He lowered his head, his breath mixed with a faint tobacco scent brushing my bangs. “Be with me.” I looked up at him, my face expressionless. I’d seen too many of these games rich people played on a whim. Seeing my silence, he leaned in closer, his tone alluring: “I have money and power. I can walk sideways in New York.” “Be with me, and no one will dare touch you again—not you, not Kira.” “Maybe—” he paused, his gaze deep, “I can even give you a home.” A home. Those words were like a tiny needle, gently piercing the softest part of my heart. I looked at his face drawing nearer and didn’t pull back. Instead, I stood on tiptoe and moved toward him first. Our breaths mingled. He clearly hadn’t expected me to do this, his body stiffening slightly. My lips nearly touched his ear as I spoke, my voice soft but every word clear: “Does Mr. White have money to burn?” “Then how about helping me win the lawsuit against Mr. Hughes first.” “Honestly, the little money I make from part-time work is barely enough to keep me alive!” The air went quiet for a long moment. Ethan stared at me, then suddenly smiled. Not the playful smile from the car earlier, but one tinged with the excitement of being challenged. One hand still braced against the wall, his other suddenly slipped into my pants pocket. The movement was so fast I couldn’t react. His fingertips brushed against my thigh through the thin fabric, sending an unfamiliar shiver through me. He pulled out my old phone with its cracked screen and smoothly entered a string of numbers. “The lawyer will contact you tomorrow!” He released me and walked toward his flashy sports car, waving without turning back. “Keep up, little rabbit. Let’s get you patched up.” The night wind lifted the hem of his clothes. It all felt like yesterday. The memories receded like a tide. The air conditioning in the hallway cut across my face like a knife. Ten years. He had lured me with the promise of “home,” worn down my claws with his protection. And in the end, joined others in mocking my background, questioning my “purity.” I braced myself against the cold wall and slowly stood upright. Taking one last glance at the man chatting and laughing at the head of the table, I tossed the diamond ring on my hand into the trash without hesitation. Ethan White, you let go first.

The sound of the ring falling into the trash was swallowed by the noise from the private room. I turned and left, my steps unsteady. Driving home, my vision was badly blurred. Ten years could really be such a joke. Suddenly, a child rushed out from the roadside. I jerked the steering wheel and slammed the brakes. The car spun out of control and crashed into a black Maybach in the adjacent lane. “Bang–” After the loud crash, the world went quiet for a second. My forehead hit the steering wheel with a dull pain. I wiped my face—it was wet. I couldn’t tell if it was tears or sweat. Pushing the door open, my legs were so weak I nearly collapsed. I struggled toward the frightened, crying boy. “Baby, don’t be scared.” I crouched down, trying to keep my voice steady, wanting to check if he was hurt. My fingers hadn’t even touched the child’s clothes. A dark figure rushed over! The burly man with a vicious look didn’t ask any questions before raising his foot to kick me! The kick was hard and brutal. I had no time to dodge. A cry of pain caught in my throat as I fell backward uncontrollably, my elbows and knees slamming hard against the rough concrete. Searing pain instantly shot through my entire body. The man wasn’t done. He pointed at me, cursing with spit flying. “Think you’re hot shit driving a car?” “Pay up! My son’s traumatized! A hundred thousand or you’re not leaving today!” He raised his foot as if to hit me again. A figure blocked my path, grabbing the man’s wrist and flinging him backward. “This is a society of laws. Attacking someone in the street—do you want to go to jail?” The cold voice carried undeniable authority. It was the Maybach’s owner. The man helped me up. His gaze fell on my pale face and the blood at the corner of my mouth, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. “Are you alright?” Using his support to steady myself and trying to calm my breathing, I looked at his car. “I’m sorry, it’s entirely my fault. I’ll compensate for your vehicle damages.” The fat man, seeing this, rolled his eyes and immediately changed targets. “Think you’re something ’cause you drive a Maybach! She hit my son—she owes me too! A hundred thousand! Not a penny less!” I took a deep breath, suppressing the metallic taste in my throat. I raised my hand and tucked my disheveled hair behind my ear. When I looked up again, my gaze had turned cold. “What I owe, I’ll pay. Not a penny less.” My voice wasn’t loud, but every word was clear. “But that kick you just gave me constitutes intentional assault!” I pulled out my phone and dialed 911 directly. The screen lit up. The man’s face changed instantly. He suddenly shoved through the onlookers, abandoned the child, and bolted. The world finally went quiet. Fighting the increasingly obvious sinking sensation in my abdomen, I walked over to the still-sobbing boy. “Don’t be afraid, I’ll take you to the hospital.” I reached out to wipe away his tears. My fingertip had just touched his cold little face when everything went black. The last thing I felt was my body falling forward beyond my control.

I woke up to the smell of disinfectant. My lower abdomen throbbed with a clear, dragging pain. “Miss, you had a miscarriage.” The nurse’s words were calm, like she was commenting on the weather. I blinked at the white ceiling. Strange—it wasn’t the earth-shattering devastation I’d imagined. Maybe I’d been hurt too much and gone numb. Or maybe that man’s kick had also destroyed my last pathetic hope for Ethan White. The hospital room door was gently pushed open. It was the Maybach’s owner. The man held my examination report, his brow tightly furrowed. “You’re awake?” His voice was low, carrying a trace of barely perceptible remorse. “How do you feel?” “Thank you!” My voice came out hoarse and dry. He poured a glass of warm water and handed it to me. The gesture was gentlemanly, maintaining just the right distance. “The police came by to say that child was abducted from a mall this afternoon. They thanked you for inadvertently helping them out.” I pulled at the corner of my mouth without speaking. “That man wasn’t caught.” He paused, looking at me. “Do you… need to contact family?” Family? Ethan? Tell him he might have once had a child, but not anymore? I closed my eyes and shook my head. “No need.” Silence spread through the hospital room. The pain in my lower abdomen came in waves, like a dull knife twisting inside. But worse than the physical pain was the enormous hole in my heart. That little life I hadn’t even had time to anticipate before losing. Finally, when I was at my most wretched and desperate, the only thing that truly belonged to me. Also gone. “I’ve already paid the medical expenses.” The man’s voice sounded again, carrying an non-negotiable tone. “You need to rest.” I opened my eyes and looked at him. There was no pity in his eyes, only a sense of responsibility based on principle. “That’s not necessary.” I refused decisively. “I’ll take responsibility for what I should bear. The medical expenses and car damages—I’ll settle everything once I’m discharged.” He looked at me, didn’t insist further, and only left a business card. The door closed gently. I was alone in the hospital room again. Dawn was breaking outside the window. Enduring the pain, I slowly sat up. I reached for my phone on the bedside table. The screen was still cracked but still functional. I opened Ethan’s chat interface. The last message stopped at his text: “Family dinner tonight, don’t be late.” I stared at those words for a long time. Then my finger moved. Block, delete, all in one fluid motion.

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In the seventh year of my marriage to Ethan, he spared no effort searching the entire country for renowned doctors to cure my muteness and hearing loss. The last time, he found an extremely toxic folk remedy and drank it himself to test it for me. After the poison took effect, he was in emergency care for three days and three nights, and permanently lost his ability to have children. Lying in bed with tubes covering his body, he still comforted me gently. “As long as you can speak again, losing anything is worth it.” “Besides, we already have one child. I’m content.” I knelt by his hospital bed crying, thinking I had found true love. But later, Wearing a cleaning uniform, I stood at the hotel front desk and personally checked Ethan and his mistress into a king-sized room. They even asked me to deliver five boxes of condoms to them. This time, I made up my mind to say those words myself. “Let’s get divorced.” “A king room, please. Thank you.” The woman wore flaming red lipstick, her cleavage on full display. She turned her head and shot a flirtatious smile at the man sitting on the lobby sofa. I followed her gaze to see a man bundled up tightly. The wedding ring on his finger was identical to Ethan’s. My heart skipped a beat as the woman handed over her ID. When I saw Ethan’s name clearly, my heartbeat faltered, I forgot to breathe, and my whole body trembled with numbness. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Ethan: “Clara, I’m looking for a doctor for you. I’ll be back late, don’t wait up.” In disbelief, I dialed his number with shaking hands. I watched as Ethan glanced over quickly, then immediately hung up. He stuffed his phone back in his pocket, pulled the woman closer, and headed to the room. His eyes held a tenderness I had never seen before. My chest felt filled with shattered glass. Even breathing became agonizing. “Are you blind?! What are you standing there for!” My colleague Sarah from the front desk had returned. She’d had a stomachache earlier and asked me to cover for her temporarily. “What are you staring at, you mute? Go clean your toilets!” She glared at me, then turned to answer the internal phone, her tone fawning as she nodded repeatedly. “Yes, Mr. Lancaster, five boxes of ultra-thin condoms, correct?” “No problem, please wait. I’ll send them right up!” My mind exploded. I furrowed my brows and made a gesture. Five? Sarah rolled her eyes, her tone mocking. “Look at you, so poor and sheltered. That was Mr. Lancaster on the phone!” “During Christmas, he booked the presidential suite for an entire month straight.” “That’s more than you could earn cleaning toilets for a lifetime–not even one day’s room rate.” She leaned in close, lowering her voice mysteriously. “That month, we had to change the sheets five or six times every night. The last cleaner got worked to death and quit.” My eardrums buzzed. I recalled that Christmas, when Ethan went to remote areas to find doctors for me and never returned. Our daughter Lily had a high fever in the middle of the night. I couldn’t get a cab and carried her to the hospital in the pouring rain. By the time we arrived, she had developed acute pneumonia. The doctor thrust a critical condition notice at me for signature, reproaching me. “If you can’t speak, how can we communicate about her condition?” I knelt on the floor, my hands shaking like a sieve, unable to write a single word. Every second I blamed myself madly, hating that I had burdened my daughter. A month later, Ethan finally came back. As soon as he walked in, he held me tight, his eyes red as he apologized. “I’m sorry, Clara. There was an avalanche in the mountains. I was trapped for a month…” I buried myself in his shoulder, not doubting him at all, only feeling that I had burdened him. I felt desperate and heartbroken, finding it all absurd. So this wasn’t his first time lying to me. It was just my first time discovering it. I threw down my mop and immediately rushed home to pack my bags. My daughter was beside me, constantly repeating “Daddy.” Lily was six years old and suffered from severe autism. My phone vibrated. A call from the rehabilitation center teacher. “Hello, Lily’s mom. There’s a parent meeting tomorrow at 2 PM to discuss Lily’s follow-up treatment plan. Will you be available?” I opened my mouth, making unclear sounds. Silence fell on the other end. “Hello? Lily’s mom, can you hear me?” I tapped the screen hard, trying to respond. “Um… maybe the signal’s bad. I’ll just call Lily’s dad directly. Last time he signed off on the treatment plan too, and he comes to the weekly training sessions. You don’t need to worry.” The teacher hung up. I stood there stunned, suddenly realizing that all of Lily’s rehabilitation training had been handled by Ethan. Because I couldn’t even manage basic social interaction. I could endure the suffering of being unable to speak, but Lily needed a father who could. Tears as big as beans fell to the floor. I suppressed my anger and put the luggage back. Ethan had just come home.

As soon as he walked in, he picked up Lily, then went to the kitchen to prepare medicine for me. Ethan brought the brewed medicine to me, blowing on it repeatedly. “This prescription is very effective. Drink it for three months, and you’ll be able to speak.” He smiled and brushed my hair aside. I instinctively dodged. A flash of alertness crossed the man’s eyes, but his tone immediately softened. “When you can speak again, the first thing you say should be ‘Clara,’ okay?” I didn’t move, disgusted to the point of numbness. That night, Ethan held me and slept soundly. While I stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep all night. I thought back to eight years ago, when Ethan first took me to see a specialist. The consultation fee was $800. He had just graduated then, with a salary of only $3,000. His hands were shaking as he paid, but he told the doctor to treat me no matter the cost. The day Lily was diagnosed with autism, I crouched on the ground crying silently. He swore to me, “Clara, don’t be afraid. Lily has me, and you have me too. No matter what illness it is, I’ll be with you both through the treatment.” From then on, he became the model father praised by all the teachers at the rehabilitation center. I closed my eyes, replaying it all over and over, tears soaking through the pillow, feeling both unwilling and resentful. The next day, while I was cleaning a guest room, I received a complaint from a guest saying the hallway was too noisy, with a child crying constantly. A bad feeling came over me. I rushed toward the end of the corridor. It was Lily. She was collapsed outside a door, her little face covered with tears and snot. Screaming “Daddy” hoarsely, repeating it over and over, her clenched little fists red and purple from pounding on the door. I felt struck by lightning. I rushed forward and pulled my daughter tightly into my arms. A note lay scattered on the floor: “Lily, be good. Daddy will come out soon.” When I saw the familiar handwriting, I instantly flew into a rage, wanting to rush in and skin him alive. Intense splashing sounds came from inside the room. A woman’s delicate moans and gasps continued. “Ah… gentle, the child is still outside.” “Who cares about that little idiot? What does she understand? Be good, lift your legs higher…” A bone-chilling cold shot to the top of my head. I was shocked to the point of numbness. Inside the door was endless pleasure. Outside the door were a desperate, suffering mother and daughter. I didn’t pound on the door. A mute’s protest would only be a laughingstock to add to their pleasure. I instinctively picked up Lily and ran home. And sent Ethan a message: “Come home immediately.” When the man came home, he smelled of body wash. Sweating profusely, he picked up Lily and shouted anxiously, “Lily, how did you run home by yourself?!” He was still performing enthusiastically. I reached out and handed him the divorce papers. Ethan’s expression showed great shock. He looked up sharply. “Divorce?!” He pressed me into his arms, his voice trembling with urgency. “Clara, do you think you’re burdening me again? I’ve told you so many times, no matter what, I will never abandon you and Lily!” His words sounded righteous but were utterly ironic. I pushed him away forcefully and slapped him across the face. Ethan looked completely incredulous. After a moment of silence, he stared at the compensation amount on the divorce agreement, then pulled out his phone. $1.88 million, transferred instantly. He grabbed my wrist tightly, his eyes reddening. “Money–I’ll give you however much you want. But we absolutely cannot divorce.” His phone screen lit up. Ethan frowned and hung up directly. “Something at the company. I’ll go handle it. You calm down.” Then he left without looking back. I picked up my phone, edited a text, and sent it to Marcus. “I’ve saved enough money. I want to buy that special medicine that can make me speak again.”

He replied instantly: “The special medicine needs to be shipped from abroad. Half a month at the fastest. I’ll coordinate it for you.” Marcus, my childhood friend. He was an otolaryngologist at the hospital. Two years ago he told me that a new biological drug from abroad had a 90% cure rate for my type of hearing loss and muteness. Two million dollars per treatment course. He said he would pay for it. I flatly refused and didn’t tell Ethan either. Not because I didn’t want treatment, but because I was afraid of crushing this family. Now it seemed my worry was too unnecessary. This family had long since fallen apart. During the days waiting for the medicine, Ethan was considerate to the extreme. He would get up at dawn and wait in line for three hours to buy me the little cakes I loved. He would insist on taking Lily to the rehabilitation center and patiently teach her to call me Mommy. He would blow on the medicine until it was warm and feed it to me spoonful by spoonful. I had seen what it looked like when he loved me, so I understood he was trying his best to perform love. The medicine became increasingly bitter. On a whim, I sent the medicine to Marcus for analysis. When I learned the test results, Marcus panicked and asked anxiously, “Long-term use of this medicine will severely damage the auditory nerves and worsen hearing loss and muteness. How long have you been drinking it?” Five years. I had drunk it for five whole years, not missing a single day. Everything before me became blurred. I was wrapped in bone-chilling cold, my clothes soaked with cold sweat. The tenderness of my former bedmate had actually been pushing me into an irredeemable abyss. I pulled myself together and persisted with treatment under Marcus’s professional rehabilitation. Ethan knew nothing about all this. I began practicing making sounds. My throat vibrated, producing weak and unclear sounds. “Li…ly.” When my daughter heard me speak for the first time, she threw herself tightly into my arms. “Mommy!” I wrapped my daughter in my embrace, tears pouring out. I could finally speak up for myself and my daughter. The next day, while I was doing rehabilitation exercises at home with Lily, Ethan’s mistress came straight to the door. “Hello, I’m Vivian.” After speaking, she walked right past me into the living room. Vivian looked around, her face full of disdain, and spoke arrogantly. “There are some things that Ethan is too soft-hearted to say to you. As his future wife, I have no choice but to take the trouble to say them myself.” The woman took out a voice recorder and pressed play. Ethan’s contemptuous, arrogant voice came through. “She will never be able to speak again in this lifetime.” “I watch her gesture in sign language every day, like a monkey. It’s really laughable.” “She’s actually secretly working to save money for treatment, exhausting herself like a dog every day, and still can’t earn a fraction of what I make. She might as well be reborn as a dog–at least then she could bark a few times.” I clenched my fists. My whole body trembled. A surge of anger shot straight to my head. Vivian stepped closer in her high heels, looking down at me condescendingly. “Did you hear that, mute? You really think he’s been searching the world for medicine for you? Dream on! When he was supposedly looking for medicine, he was in bed serving me!” Her eyes rolled, and she smiled even more arrogantly. “Oh, right, there’s good news too. I’m pregnant, with Ethan’s baby.” Vivian saw my stunned expression and became even more triumphant. “You don’t really believe his manhood is broken, do you?” The woman leaned close to my ear, enunciating each word. “He lied to you because he finds you disgusting and hates that you gave birth to a waste of space. When he’s with me, eight times a night isn’t enough. More intense than you could ever imagine!” After speaking, Vivian yanked my daughter out from behind me.

Her tone was vicious to the extreme, as she said through gritted teeth, “Lily, do you know why your daddy doesn’t want you? Because you’re a burden! Your daddy said once my baby is born, he’ll send you to an orphanage! You know what an orphanage is? It’s where kids with no parents go. That’s where you’ll live from now on!” Fortunately, Lily didn’t understand. But she still sensed the malice and began hitting herself on the head with her fists, screaming in pain. “Don’t touch my daughter!!” I rushed forward and blocked Lily. Then I grabbed Vivian by the throat and pressed her face against the wall. “What are you doing! Let go of me!” The woman screamed desperately, her manicured nails scratching several bloody marks on my face. But I felt no pain at all. I grabbed her hair tightly and shoved her away hard. “Get out!” Vivian, wearing four-inch heels, couldn’t steady herself, and tumbled down the stairs, her face smashed and bloody. “Ahh–help!” She clutched her stomach, curled up in agony. The next second, Ethan rushed out from the stairwell. When he saw Vivian lying on the ground, his eyes instantly became violent and fierce. “What did you do?!” The man looked up and questioned me harshly. I clenched my fists, not having time to speak. He pointed at me and cursed. “Don’t you know she’s pregnant?! If anything happens to Vivian, I will never forgive you!” After speaking, Ethan picked up the woman and left, his departing back resolute. He didn’t glance once at our daughter, still trembling in the corner. Nor did he ask why my face was covered in bloody scratches. That night, Ethan didn’t come home. The next morning, he returned. The man’s hair was disheveled, his eye sockets sunken, his face pale, as if he’d kept vigil at the hospital all night. He slowly walked up to me and suddenly dropped to his knees. “Clara, I’m sorry. I was too impulsive yesterday. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” Ethan covered his face in repentance, his voice heavy with sobs. “I’ll be honest with you. Vivian and I do have some relationship, but it’s not what you think. She was my college classmate. Her family had a crisis, and I helped her. Later she kept clinging to me, and one time when I was drunk, things happened…” The man grabbed my hand and placed it on his chest. He said with apparent sincerity, “But the person I’ve loved from beginning to end has always been you!” The man’s tone was earnest, yet nauseating. “The doctor said Vivian’s body is very weak. It’s a miracle she could get pregnant. So I want to discuss with you–let her give birth to the baby safely. Then Vivian will disappear completely, and you can be the child’s mother. From now on, the four of us will live well together.” Seeing my silence, he put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his embrace. Whispering tenderly, “Clara, as long as you agree, I’ll listen to you in everything from now on. I won’t let you suffer any grievance.” I took a sharp breath and pushed Ethan away forcefully. He staggered back, looking at me in great surprise. My eyes were sharp. My lips moved. My throat forced out a few words. It was my first utterance in seven years. “Let’s… get divorced.” Ethan was clearly stunned. His pupils dilated suddenly, his face full of disbelief. “You… you can speak?!”

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After my miscarriage, I became the kind of wife Ethan had always wanted. I no longer shared the interesting parts of my day with him. I no longer called him all night when he didn’t come home. Even when Ethan and his mistress Quinn were about to have sex, I could remain expressionless and thoughtfully prepare condoms for them. But he got angry and viciously threw the condoms on the ground. “No need for those. I’m planning to have a child with Quinn. Aren’t you jealous?” I replied indifferently, “Whatever.” Ethan was frustrated by my lack of reaction and kept pushing, wanting to see me break down in tears. But didn’t he understand yet? I had long since stopped loving him. Why would I care about his provocations? Vivian Shaw POV After my miscarriage, I became the kind of wife Ethan Blackwood had always wanted. I no longer shared the interesting parts of my day with him. I no longer called him all night when he didn’t come home. Even when I was falsely accused and taken to the police station, and the officers said a family member had to bail me out, I just said I had no family. I calmly spent a week in detention. Seven days later, in the evening, the iron door of the police station swung open. I had just walked down the steps when a black Maybach screeched to a stop in front of me. The car door opened. Ethan stepped out wearing a tailored suit. He was tall with long legs, broad shoulders and a narrow waist, as coldly elegant and eye-catching as always. He walked up to me in a few strides, his brow furrowed slightly. “Vivian, why didn’t you call me when you were being bullied?” I smiled faintly. “Would you have even turned on your phone?” A week ago on my way home from work, an elderly person suddenly fell in front of my car. I got out to help, but they grabbed my arm and started shouting, “Hit and run! This young lady hit me and tried to run away!” The surveillance footage proved my innocence, but according to procedure, a family member had to come sign for my release before I could leave. I said I had no family. The police didn’t believe me and looked up my marriage registration information, finding Ethan’s phone number. They called. It was turned off. They called dozens of times. Always turned off. Ethan’s expression changed slightly. “The night you were detained, Quinn had stomach pain. I took her to the hospital.She doesn’t like noise, so I shut my phone off.” He paused, his voice lowering. “I’m sorry.” “It’s fine,” I said. “I didn’t expect you to come anyway. Just do what you need to do.” My tone was too calm as I said this. So calm there wasn’t a ripple of emotion. Ethan looked at me and suddenly grabbed my wrist. His hand was very hot, and his grip was strong. I frowned. “Why aren’t you angry?” Ethan stared at me, confusion in his eyes, along with a trace of unease he didn’t want to admit. I found it amusing. “Why would I be angry? You gave your reason, I understand it. Nothing to be angry about.” “Vivian…” “I’m tired. I want to go home.” I pulled my hand back and walked around him toward the car door. Ethan stood there, watching my retreating figure. We hadn’t seen each other in seven days, and I had lost a lot of weight. My shirt hung loosely on my frame. In the past, whenever he neglected me even a little, I would make a scene with red-rimmed eyes and ask him in an aggrieved voice, “Ethan, have you ever even cared about me?” Back then he thought I was overreacting, that I was immature. But now I didn’t make scenes, didn’t cry. I nodded and said “okay” to whatever he said. And yet he felt… panicked. The car was very quiet. The driver drove in front while I sat by the window in the back seat, watching the streetscape fly past in reverse. I no longer acted like I used to, unable to stop myself from looking at him the moment I got in the car, my eyes full of only him. When we were alone I would search for topics to talk about, and even when he responded coldly, I could chatter on by myself for ages. Now I just sat quietly, as if he wasn’t there beside me at all. Ethan finally couldn’t hold back. “Are you still throwing a tantrum about what happened before?” I turned to look at him, my eyes calm. “No, it’s all in the past.” “Then why are you…” “Ethan.” I interrupted him. “What do you want from me? To cling to you every day like before? Or to be like this now, not fighting or making noise, giving you enough freedom?” Ethan was stumped by the question. Of course he wanted me not to fight or make noise, didn’t want me always making scenes over Quinn. But when I really became like this, he felt… wrong. Everything felt wrong. “I just feel like you’ve changed,” he said quietly. I turned back to the window. Changed? Perhaps. When you love someone versus when you don’t, you’re naturally two different people.

Vivian Shaw POV The car fell silent again. Ethan wanted to say something more, but his phone rang. It was Quinn. He answered, and her sugary voice immediately came through. “Ethan, where are you? I’m at the mall and I bought so many things I can’t carry them all. Come pick me up, okay?” Ethan glanced at me. I continued looking out the window, as if I hadn’t heard. He suddenly felt irritated. “Quinn, you’re an adult. Stop always depending on me. And we don’t have any relationship anymore.” “But you’ve spoiled me for so many years, I’m used to it now.” Quinn’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Before, whenever I asked you to pick me up, you never refused.” “Before was before.” Ethan’s voice turned cold. “Back then you were my girlfriend, but now I’m married.” “Married?” Quinn laughed mockingly. “Do you really have feelings for her? Ethan, stop lying to yourself. If you don’t come, I’ll just find another man to help me carry things. Plenty of men want to help me anyway.” Ethan gripped his phone tightly. Quinn knew him too well. She knew he couldn’t stand her going to other men. “Wait there.” He practically ground out the words through clenched teeth, then hung up. He took a deep breath and turned to me. “Vivian, I…” “I’ll take a cab home.” I had already pushed open the car door. “You go pick her up.” I moved too fast for Ethan to react. “Vivian!” He got out of the car and caught up, grabbing my arm. “There’s really nothing between her and me anymore, but she and I grew up together. Our families know each other. I can’t completely cut ties.” “I know.” I nodded. “I understand.” I always said “I know” and “I understand,” like an AI with not a hint of emotion. Watching me show no reaction whatsoever, the nameless fire in Ethan’s chest burned even hotter. But Quinn’s call came through again, urging him relentlessly. “You go home first, I’ll be back later…” He wanted to say he’d come back later, but I had already flagged down a taxi. I got in, closed the door, and didn’t even glance at him again. The taxi drove away while he stood watching from behind. My phone rang. It was the HR department from my company. “Ms. Shaw, your application for overseas work has been approved.” The voice on the other end carried a smile. “Congratulations! You’re going to the New York headquarters. It’s a rare opportunity. But… won’t your husband have an issue with it? After all, who knows when you’ll be back. You two would have to live apart.” I looked at the neon lights flashing past outside, my voice soft. “I don’t have a husband. The same day I applied to go to New York, I also filed for divorce. Once the divorce is finalized, I can leave.” There was several seconds of silence on the other end. “Are you serious? You used to like him so much. You gave up so many good opportunities for him. How could you suddenly…” I smiled and shook my head. “I don’t like him anymore.” After hanging up, I leaned against the car window and closed my eyes. All these years, almost everyone knew I liked Ethan. Liked him to the point of losing myself, liked him to the point of being as humble as dust. But I was tired. Loving someone whose heart was forever filled with someone else was too exhausting. At eighteen, during my freshman year, I first saw Ethan at the new student awards ceremony. The sun was bright that day. He wore a simple white shirt and black dress pants, standing on stage with an extraordinary presence. He was the most popular guy at school, and nearly every girl in the audience blushed. I was one of them. But no one had a chance to get close to him. Because everyone knew that Ethan’s heart belonged only to Quinn, the girl he’d grown up with.

Vivian Shaw POV Quinn was temperamental, loved to make scenes, had a terrible temper. But Ethan doted on her, indulged her. Everyone said he was madly in love with her. For as long as he loved Quinn, I secretly loved him from behind. Until Quinn ran away from countless wedding ceremonies with Ethan. The first time, she said she was too young and didn’t want to get married so early. The second time, she claimed to have pre-wedding jitters. The third time, she said she felt Ethan didn’t love her enough. … The ninth time, she called from overseas the night before the wedding. “Ethan, I’ve been thinking, and I still feel freedom is more precious. Let’s not get married for now, okay? I want to travel abroad for a few years first!” That time, Ethan didn’t chase after her. He was depressed for a while, then started accepting the blind dates his family arranged. He went on one after another, always ending things after just one meeting. When I learned this, my heart pounded wildly. I pulled strings and managed to get a chance to go on a blind date with him. That day, somehow I ended up wearing the same dress as Quinn. Sure enough, when Ethan saw me, he froze. He stared for a long time, then said, “Let’s get married.” My wildly beating heart suddenly sank in that moment. I knew he was seeing someone else through me. But I still nodded. Because I liked him too much. Even knowing he probably had no feelings for me, I still wanted to stay by his side. After marriage, we were polite and courteous. Ethan treated me well. He was never stingy materially, gave me all the respectability I deserved, but I knew that wasn’t love. He never initiated intimacy with me. Only when I wore clothes similar to Quinn’s would he hold me in a daze, calling out “Quinn.” Each time I pretended not to hear. Five years passed like this. I thought life could continue this way, until Quinn came back. At the time I happened to be three months pregnant. My stomach suddenly hurt terribly. I clutched my belly wanting to call an ambulance, but Quinn showed up at the door. “So you’re Vivian Shaw?” Quinn looked me up and down with contempt in her eyes. “I heard you took advantage of my absence to steal my position?” My face was pale with pain. I had no energy to argue with her, only wanting to get to the hospital quickly. I tried to go around Quinn, but she blocked me. During the struggle, I really couldn’t take it anymore and pushed her. Quinn stumbled backward, her head hitting the door frame. Blood immediately flowed down. That night, Ethan locked me in the storage room. My stomach hurt terribly, like a knife was twisting inside. I pounded on the door, calling over and over, “Ethan… save me… the baby… our baby…” But no one came. The pain made me curl up on the floor. Warm liquid flowed out from beneath me. I reached down to touch it. My hand was covered in blood. Finally I passed out from the pain. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. The baby was gone. Ethan stood by the bed, looking at me with guilt in his eyes. “It’s my fault. After you’re discharged, we’ll have another baby.” “If you hadn’t pushed Quinn back then, I wouldn’t have locked you up. She’s not in good health. That push nearly killed her. I acted rashly in the moment. I can compensate…” In that moment, I laughed. Laughed until tears streamed down my face. “Ethan, what compensation do you think could make up for a life?” That was the first time, and the last time, I cried in front of him. From then on, I changed. I secretly filed for divorce and applied to transfer to New York with my company. No matter what happened between him and Quinn, I no longer cared. Because I no longer loved him.

Vivian Shaw POV I went home alone. The house was large, empty, and cold. I changed my shoes, went upstairs, and started packing. Actually, I had been quietly packing during this time. Now I just needed to finish up. I took out the clothes from the closet that were similar to Quinn’s style, one by one, folded them, and put them in boxes. I would never wear these clothes again. The sound of the door opening came from downstairs. Ethan was back, but he wasn’t alone. Quinn stood at the bottom of the stairs. Seeing me, she gave a sweet smile. “Vivian, long time no see.” I said nothing. “Quinn said she wanted to come see Snowball.” Ethan spoke, his tone somewhat unnatural. “She said it’s been a long time.” Snowball was a dog Ethan and Quinn had raised when they were together. Later when Quinn went abroad, the dog was left with Ethan. After I married in, I had been the one taking care of it. “Whatever.” I turned to go back to my room. “Snowball! Snowball!” Quinn had already crouched down, clapping her hands to call the dog. A white Samoyed ran out from the corner. Seeing Quinn, it excitedly jumped on her, tail wagging like a propeller. “Oh my, Snowball still remembers me!” Quinn hugged the dog, her eyes crinkling with her smile. “Looks like even though another woman has been taking care of you all these years, you still only recognize me.” Her words carried obvious provocation. I stopped in my tracks. Ethan frowned. “Quinn, you ran off abroad without a word back then and didn’t want it. You lost the right to be its owner long ago.” “Now you’ve seen it. You can go back.” Quinn pouted. “It’s dark outside and raining. How unsafe for me to go back alone. Can’t I… stay here for the night?” Ethan wanted to refuse. But it really was pouring rain outside with rolling thunder. He instinctively looked at me, wanting to convince me to agree. In the past, whenever Quinn came over, I would make a scene and he would have to put in effort to pacify me. But this time, before he could speak, I spoke first. “The guest room is in that room at the far end of the first floor. The sheets and covers are clean.” My tone was calm. “If you want to stay, go ahead.” With that, I turned and went back to my room. Ethan froze. Quinn was also stunned for a moment, but quickly smiled and wrapped her arm around Ethan’s. “Ethan, see? Vivian agreed.” Ethan looked at my closed door, that strange feeling rising in his chest again. He shook off Quinn’s hand. “Behave yourself.” Just then his phone rang with a work call. He glanced at Quinn. “Stay out of trouble.” Then he went to the study. Only Quinn was left in the living room. The smile instantly vanished from her face. She walked to my door and knocked. I opened the door. Quinn leaned against the door frame, looking me up and down. “Playing generous? You think letting me stay will make Ethan think you’re understanding? It’s useless, Vivian. Let me show you just how much of a failure you are. All these years, not only have you failed to win Ethan’s heart, you couldn’t even win over a dog.” She whistled, and Snowball came running. “Snowball,” Quinn pointed at me, “go, bite her.” The dog hesitated, but under Quinn’s urging, it still lunged and bit my calf. I was caught off guard and cried out in pain, my face instantly turning deathly pale! Quinn laughed with satisfaction. “See? You can’t even win over a dog, yet you foolishly thought you could steal Ethan from me? Just give up already!” The pain and humiliation made my whole body go cold, but I bit my lip hard, not letting myself make another sound. I looked up at Quinn, my eyes cold as ice. “Forgot to tell you, Quinn. The public areas of this house, including the stairs and hallways, all have twenty-four-hour surveillance. Both audio and video recording functions work perfectly.” “If you still want to stay here today and rekindle things with Ethan, I suggest you stop provoking me. Otherwise I’ll show him the footage directly. Do you think he’d still let you stay?” Quinn’s expression changed. I stopped looking at her, turned back into my room, and closed the door.

Vivian Shaw POV I walked to the bed, took out the medicine kit from the drawer, and treated my wound. The antiseptic stung fiercely on the wound, but my face showed no expression. After treating the wound, I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. Unlike usual, I didn’t make milk for Ethan, didn’t wait for him to finish working, didn’t say goodnight to him. I just went straight to sleep. In the middle of the night, I was choked awake by thick smoke. I opened my eyes. The room was full of smoke, making me cough violently. I hurriedly got out of bed and opened the door. The hallway was ablaze with fire. A fire! I held onto the wall, moving step by step toward the exit, but after just a few steps, from inhaling too much smoke, my legs gave out and I fell to the ground. The floor was scorching hot. I struggled to get up but had no strength. Just when I thought I would die here, a figure rushed into the sea of flames. It was Ethan! He wore pajamas, his face covered in soot, anxiously looking around. I wanted to call out to him, but my throat was too choked by smoke to make a sound. I reached out my hand, wanting him to see me. But Ethan didn’t even look at me. He rushed straight toward the corner of the room. Snowball was curled up there, trembling. He scooped up the dog in one motion, turned and left, not even glancing back at me. I watched his figure disappear into the firelight and suddenly laughed. Laughed until tears fell. He had come to save the dog. In Ethan’s heart, I wasn’t even worth as much as a dog! The smoke grew heavier. As I breathed it in, my consciousness began to blur. I gritted my teeth, braced myself against the wall, and stood up shakily, stumbling toward the door. But the doorway was already blocked by a fallen beam. There was no way out. I looked at the burning beam in despair, then turned and rushed toward the window. I pushed open the window. Cold wind rushed in, clearing my head a bit. I looked down and happened to see Ethan rushing out the front door with the dog. Quinn threw herself into his arms. “Ethan! I was so scared!” Quinn was in tears. “I thought Snowball would die in there… We raised this dog for so many years. It witnessed our relationship…” Ethan’s body stiffened. He seemed to want to push her away, but seeing her cry so heartbrokenly, in the end, he still raised his hand and gently patted her back, softly comforting her. “Don’t cry. It’s okay now. The dog is fine, and you’re fine too.” I watched this scene, my heart feeling as if it were being violently squeezed by an icy hand, then suddenly released, leaving only boundless, numb emptiness. I no longer counted on anyone. I climbed onto the windowsill, took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and jumped. The time my body fell through the air was very short. I didn’t even have time to be afraid before I crashed heavily to the ground. BANG. Intense pain instantly swept through my whole body. I lay on the ground, warm blood spreading beneath me. “Oh my God! Vivian jumped!” The maid’s scream rang out. Ethan whipped around. He saw me lying in a pool of blood. “VIVIAN!!!” The expression on his face was one I had never seen before. Shock, disbelief, and a trace of… panic. I looked at him, opened my mouth wanting to say something, but only coughed up blood. Then I passed out completely. When I woke up again, the smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils. I opened my eyes and saw the white ceiling. I moved slightly. My whole body ached. The pain was excruciating. “Vivian!” Ethan’s voice rang out. I turned my head and saw him keeping watch by the bed, his eyes completely bloodshot, blue stubble on his chin. He looked haggard. He grabbed my hand, his voice trembling slightly. “You’re awake? How do you feel? Is anything uncomfortable?” I didn’t answer his question. I just slowly but firmly pulled my hand from his grasp.

Vivian Shaw POV Ethan’s hand froze in midair, his expression shifting slightly. He probably thought I was angry about the fire and my jumping from the building, that I resented him for not saving me first. “Vivian,” he tried to explain, lowering his voice, “when I went into the room, I didn’t see you. I thought you’d already escaped, so I only took Snowball. It’s not just an ordinary dog, it’s…” What? The token of his and Quinn’s relationship? A witness bearing their beautiful memories? “Since you were in the room, why didn’t you call out to me?” Why didn’t I call out? I finally raised my eyes to look at him. My eyes were very dark, very deep, containing no resentment, no expectation either. Just bottomless calm. “Because I’ve stopped counting on you.” Ethan’s whole body violently trembled, as if struck hard by something. His pupils contracted sharply as he looked at me in disbelief. “What do you mean… stopped counting on me?” His voice was terribly hoarse. I looked at him, my gaze calm as if I were looking at a stranger. “Exactly what it sounds like. I don’t count on you to save me, don’t count on you to choose me, don’t count on… you to love me.” Ethan’s heart shook. Just as he was about to speak, his phone rang. It was Quinn! He walked to the window, his back to me, and answered. I couldn’t hear the specific content, could only see the tense lines of his profile, his tone starting with impatience and ending with suppressed compromise and “I understand.” After hanging up, Ethan walked back to the bed, his expression unpleasant. He looked at me, wanting to speak but hesitating. “You should go.” I didn’t wait for him to speak first, that suffocating calm still in my tone. “I really don’t need anyone here.” Ethan looked at me, his chest feeling like it was stuffed with wet cotton, so stuffy he couldn’t breathe. He opened his mouth and finally only said, “Quinn has some trouble. I’ll… go handle it and come right back.” After a pause, he added, “I know you’re angry about what happened before, so you’re deliberately saying these things out of spite. Don’t worry, that kind of situation won’t happen again.” “In a few days it’s your mother’s death anniversary. I’ll go with you to pay respects.” My lowered eyelashes trembled lightly. “My mother’s death anniversary and Quinn’s birthday are on the same day.” I laughed once. “Aren’t you going to celebrate her birthday with her?” Ethan clearly hadn’t expected me to suddenly bring this up. His expression stiffened almost imperceptibly. He was silent for several seconds before avoiding my gaze and replying in a somewhat stiff tone, “Her birthday… what does that have to do with me?” I laughed again. How could it have nothing to do with him? Five years of marriage, and every year on that day, Ethan was “busy.” The first year, he said he had a business trip. The second year, he said he had meetings. The third year, he said he had to meet clients. Later I learned that my mother’s death anniversary and Quinn’s birthday were on the same day. Every year on that day, Ethan would fly over ten hours overseas to stand outside Quinn’s house all night, then leave gifts and depart. This year Quinn was back. He could see her in person, could express his love even better. “Oh, really?” I responded lightly, said nothing more, just closed my eyes again, assuming a posture that rejected conversation and showed utter exhaustion. Ethan, frustrated by my complete lack of reaction, felt anger rise in his chest but had nowhere to vent it. He looked at my pale face and tightly closed eyes. The words “Quinn and I really have nothing going on, don’t misunderstand” rolled around on his tongue, but in the end he only said, “Rest well. I’ll come see you again later.” Then he turned and hurriedly left the hospital room.

Vivian Shaw POV In the following days, I peacefully recovered in the hospital. Ethan came a few times, bringing expensive supplements and flowers. He never stayed long. His phone was always busy. I didn’t make scenes or fuss. I just said “mm” to whatever he said, giving him a feeling of punching cotton with no resistance. On the day I was discharged, Ethan brought flowers and accompanied me to the cemetery in the suburbs. I looked at the increasingly familiar scenery outside the window, a sense of absurdity rising in my heart. Five years. This was the first time Ethan came to pay respects to my mother. The cemetery was very quiet. Wind blew through the trees with a rustling sound. Ethan stood before the gravestone, looking at the woman in the photo who resembled me by seventy percent, silent for a long time. “Mom,” he began, his voice somewhat hoarse, “I’m sorry it took me so many years to visit you.” “I’ll take good care of Vivian from now on. You can rest assured.” Ethan continued, “I won’t let her suffer anymore.” I looked at my mother’s gentle smile on the gravestone, my expression numb. Mom, did you hear? The person I’ve liked for ten years said he’ll take good care of me from now on. But these words came too late. So late that I no longer need them. After paying respects, Ethan took me to the restaurant I’d always wanted to visit. It was a French restaurant that was very difficult to book. I’d mentioned it many times before, but Ethan always said he didn’t have time. Today he reserved the entire restaurant and arranged a romantic dinner. “I remember you said you wanted to come here.” Ethan pulled out a chair for me. “Try it and see if it suits your taste.” I sat down, looking at the table full of exquisite dishes, my heart completely unmoved. Halfway through the meal, Ethan’s phone rang again. Still Quinn. Her angry voice was loud enough that even I could hear it clearly. “Ethan! You spent days throwing me an extravagant birthday party, but you didn’t come yourself?!” Ethan frowned and glanced at me. I was cutting my steak, movements graceful, expression calm, as if I’d heard nothing. “I had something to do.” Ethan said quietly. “What could be more important than my birthday? You have to come to my birthday party right now, or I won’t celebrate this birthday at all!” Ethan, pestered beyond endurance, hung up. He looked at me, wanting to explain, but I had already put down my utensils. “You should go.” I said. “I’ve finished eating anyway.” “Vivian, Quinn just returned to the country. She wanted to gather all her friends together, but she doesn’t know how to organize a party, so I helped her a bit.” Ethan explained. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” “I know.” I nodded. “I understand.” That phrase again. The frustration in Ethan’s chest surged up again. “I’ll take you with me.” He suddenly said. “The party is nearby anyway. We’ll just make an appearance and leave. Consider it relaxing.” I wanted to refuse, but Ethan had already stood up. “Let’s go.” Quinn’s birthday party was in a luxury hotel’s banquet hall. When Ethan and I arrived, there were already many people inside. Quinn wore a red dress, like a proud peacock, surrounded by crowds. Seeing Ethan, her eyes lit up. She lifted her skirt and ran over. “Ethan! You finally came!” She directly wrapped her arm around Ethan’s, completely ignoring me beside him. “Quinn.” Ethan frowned, trying to pull his arm back. “Ethan, dance the opening dance with me!” Quinn acted coquettishly. “You haven’t danced with me in so long.” Ethan looked at me. I was looking elsewhere, as if admiring a painting on the wall. “Vivian…” Ethan started. “Go ahead.” I said. “I’ll get something to eat over there.” With that, I turned and walked toward the food table.

Vivian Shaw POV Ethan stood in place, seemingly frozen.I know that before, even if he just said a few words to Quinn, I would look at him with red-rimmed eyes. But now, I had actively pushed him toward her. He simply couldn’t believe it. Ethan belatedly let Quinn pull him into the dance floor. The music started. He held Quinn’s waist but couldn’t help frequently glancing toward me in the corner. I was standing at the food table, eating cake in small bites, my expression calm, my eyes indifferent, as if I were attending a stranger’s party. Quinn noticed his distraction and grew displeased. “Since you care about her so much, just go find her. I’ll go dance with another man.” With that, she let go of Ethan, turned, and walked toward a man in a white suit. The man was Quinn’s college classmate who had always liked her. Seeing Quinn approach, he immediately extended his hand attentively. Quinn placed her hand in his, and the two glided into the dance floor. Ethan stood in place, watching Quinn laugh and chat with that man, his expression gradually darkening. Quinn seemed to be deliberately provoking him, getting closer and closer to that man. Finally, she even leaned to the man’s ear and said something. The man laughed, lowered his head, and kissed her cheek. The wine glass in Ethan’s hand shattered with a crack. Blood mixed with wine dripped down, but he felt no pain. He rushed forward, grabbed Quinn’s wrist, and dragged her out of the dance floor. “Ethan! What are you doing?! Let me go!” Quinn struggled. Without a word, his face livid, Ethan practically dragged Quinn out of the banquet hall to the empty, deserted balcony outside. Ethan pressed her against the cold railing, his voice suppressing violent rage. “Quinn, do you have any sense at all?!” Quinn was startled by his shouting, then got angry herself and forcefully shook off his hand. “I have no sense? I’m not married. He’s not married. We’re both willing. So what’s the problem? Who are you to me, Ethan? What right do you have to tell me what to do? As my ex? Or as some other woman’s husband?” “You!” Quinn’s words stung Ethan until his eyes turned red, and the string of rationality snapped completely in that moment. He abruptly lowered his head and fiercely kissed Quinn’s lips! It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It carried punishment and plunder, fierce and domineering. Quinn stiffened at first, then a gleam of triumph flashed in her eyes. She didn’t struggle. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and began kissing him back passionately. The balcony glass was frosted. People outside couldn’t see clearly what was happening inside, but I stood in the corner, and through a gap in the glass, I could see everything clearly. I watched Ethan kiss Quinn, watched Quinn wrap her arms around his neck, watched them kiss inseparably. There was no pain in my heart, only a numb sense of absurdity. The kiss lasted a long time, until both were breathless. Ethan suddenly pushed Quinn away, as if jolted awake from a dream. He looked at Quinn’s glistening red lips and dazed eyes, his heart lurching sharply, followed by overwhelming panic and self-loathing. “I’m sorry,” he turned his face away, his voice terribly hoarse, carrying a kind of awkward evasion. “I… I drank too much. I mistook you for Vivian.” Quinn obviously didn’t believe his explanation. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, looking up at him, her tone carrying tears and pleading. “You’ve never had Vivian in your heart. How could you mistake me for her? Stop lying to yourself, okay? You still love me. You can’t let me go at all!” “Ethan, let’s stop torturing each other, okay? Divorce Vivian and let’s get back together. I swear I’ll never be as willful as before. I’ll love you properly, be a good wife to you, okay?”

Vivian Shaw POV Divorce? Get back together? These two words exploded like thunder in Ethan’s ears. As if scalded, he violently pushed Quinn away and said sternly, “What are you talking about! I won’t divorce Vivian!” “Why? Just because she followed you without any boundaries for five years?” Quinn shrieked, “Ethan, how long will you keep running from your feelings? If you really don’t have me in your heart anymore, don’t care about me at all, then I might as well just die!” As she spoke, she turned and rushed toward the edge of the balcony, as if she really meant to jump. “Quinn! Are you crazy?!” Ethan’s expression changed drastically as he rushed forward to pull her back. Just then, the huge crystal chandelier overhead, used for decoration, suddenly made a groaning sound, unable to bear its weight, then crashed downward! And it was falling directly toward Quinn’s head! “Watch out!” Ethan’s pupils contracted sharply. Without thinking, he used his body to shield Quinn tightly in his arms and rolled to the side! The heavy crystal chandelier smashed to the ground, instantly shattering, fragments flying everywhere. Ethan’s back was sliced by several larger shards, blood immediately gushing out, staining his expensive suit red. “Ethan! Are you okay? You’re bleeding!” Quinn’s face turned deathly pale with fright as she cried out. People in the banquet hall were startled by the loud noise and ran out, creating chaos at the scene. Some called for an ambulance, others came forward to help. I stood at the edge of the crowd, not a ripple of emotion in my heart, only finding the farce before me absurd and glaring. I didn’t step forward, didn’t inquire, didn’t even stay a second longer. Amid the ambulance’s piercing siren, I quietly turned and left. Ethan was hospitalized. I didn’t go see him. I stayed home alone, doing my own things, reading books, watching movies, packing my luggage. Until that evening, Ethan’s assistant Jeff suddenly called. “Vivian, could you come to the hospital to see Ethan? His stomach condition flared up again. The pain is severe, and the medicine the doctor prescribed isn’t helping much. He’s breaking out in cold sweat from the pain and won’t let the nurses near him. In the past, only when you massaged him would he feel better… We really don’t know what to do. Could you…” I walked to the window, looking at the city completely shrouded in the rain curtain outside. Raindrops pounded against the glass as if to drown the entire world. After he finished speaking, I calmly replied, “The rain is too heavy. I won’t be going.” The other end was clearly stunned, silent for several seconds, as if unable to believe what they’d heard. “M-Ms. Shaw… what did you say?” the assistant stammered. “I said the rain outside is too heavy. I don’t want to go out. I won’t be coming tonight.” “But Mr. Blackwood, he…” “I’m going to sleep now.” I interrupted him. “Good night.” I hung up, turned off my phone, went to bed, and no longer paid attention to any disturbances. The next day, Ethan checked out of the hospital early and returned home. His face was still somewhat pale. Seeing me sitting on the living room sofa reading, he paused, then walked over and stood before me. “Last night…” he began, his voice somewhat low, his gaze heavy as he looked at me. “Jeff called you?” “Yes.” I turned a page without looking up. “Why didn’t you come?” Ethan asked, suppressing some emotion in his tone. “Before… no matter the weather, even if I just casually mentioned feeling unwell, you would rush over immediately.” My page-turning motion stopped. I finally looked up at Ethan, my eyes calm and still. “You said it yourself. That was before.” I looked at him, my voice light, yet like a small hammer gently tapping on Ethan’s heart. “Ethan, people change.”

Vivian Shaw POV Ethan opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found nothing to say. Yes, people change. I had changed. He probably just didn’t know why I changed, or when I changed. “In a few days,” he tried to ease the atmosphere, as if wanting to prove something, “it’s our wedding anniversary. Didn’t you always say you wanted to celebrate it properly? This year, I’ll throw you a party, invite everyone, make it lively, okay?” As he spoke, he observed my reaction. I looked at him, my eyes calm. “Whatever.” Whatever again. Ethan’s expression turned unpleasant, as if the irritation in his heart was surging up again. But he still began preparing for the party. He booked the most expensive hotel, hired the best planners, ordered me the most expensive gown, bought the most expensive, sky-high-priced jewelry. On the day of the party, I wore the gown he’d chosen, adorned with that priceless diamond jewelry set, and walked into the banquet hall on his arm. Everyone looked at me with envy. “Mrs. Blackwood is so fortunate.” “Ethan treats her so well.” “I heard that jewelry set was bought at auction. An astronomical price.” I listened to those comments, a proper smile on my face, but my heart felt nothing. Midway through, I went to the balcony for some air. I had only been standing there a moment when footsteps sounded behind me. It was Quinn. “Why are you here?” I turned to look at her. “Ethan invited me.” Quinn walked to my side, leaning against the railing. “He said today is your wedding anniversary and asked me to come witness your happiness.” As she spoke, she smiled. “Vivian, are you happy?” I said nothing. Quinn leaned close to me. “I know you’re not happy. Ethan’s heart only has room for me. You’re just a pitiful, laughable substitute! Last night he even because of me…” “Quinn,” I finally spoke, interrupting her words, my voice terrifyingly calm. “You know what? You’re really noisy, and really pitiful. Like a child who throws tantrums when they can’t get candy. What’s between Ethan and me is our business.” “As for you, an eternal failure living in the past who needs to provoke others to prove her own existence, you’re not worth me wasting any emotion on.” “You!” Quinn was thoroughly enraged by the undisguised contempt and pity in my eyes. She glanced at the low, decorative balcony railing behind me, a vicious glint flashing in her eyes. “Go to hell!” She suddenly reached out and used all her strength to violently push me! Caught off guard, I instantly lost my balance and fell backward! In the moment I fell off the balcony, survival instinct made me reflexively reach out and grab wildly. I happened to catch Quinn’s wrist, which she hadn’t pulled back in time! “Ah!” Both of us screamed simultaneously. Half my body was already suspended in air, hanging on only by my hand desperately gripping Quinn’s wrist. Quinn was also pulled down and collapsed at the railing’s edge, scared out of her wits, her other hand desperately clawing at the railing to avoid falling together. “Help! Ethan! Help!” Quinn shrieked and cried. People in the banquet hall were alarmed and rushed toward the balcony. Ethan ran at the front. Seeing this dangerous scene, his face instantly turned deathly pale. “Ethan! Save me! I’m going to fall! Pull me up quickly!” Quinn cried, tears streaming down her face, extending the hand clinging to the railing toward Ethan. Ethan’s gaze swept rapidly between me, gritting my teeth silently, and Quinn, crying and calling for help. In that split second, with almost no hesitation, he lunged forward and grabbed the hand Quinn extended toward him! “Vivian, hang on a bit longer!” Ethan looked down at me, his voice trembling. “Once I pull Quinn up, I’ll save you right away!” I looked at him and suddenly smiled. I let go. My body fell through the air, wind roaring in my ears. Finally, I crashed into the swimming pool below. Water splashed everywhere. The icy pool water engulfed me. I closed my eyes and lost consciousness.

Vivian Shaw POV When I woke up again, I was lying in the bed in my own room. The blood and mud on my body had been cleaned away, replaced with soft silk pajamas. The room was empty. Heavy curtains were half-drawn, letting in a dim ray of light. I stiffly turned my head, reaching for my phone on the pillow. The screen lit up, the glaring light making me squint. There was only one text message, from Ethan. “Vivian, Quinn was frightened and her emotions are unstable. I’m taking her to the hospital first. Rest well. I’ve had the butler treat your injuries. I’ll explain everything when I get back. I’ll compensate you.” Compensate. Compensation again. I stared at those words, finding it utterly laughable, absurd to the extreme. When did “compensation” become all that was left between us? When you truly like someone, you cherish them. There’s no need for the word “compensation” to make up for debts. Ethan, I don’t like you anymore. So your compensation. I don’t want it at all anymore. I only hope to sever all ties with you as soon as possible, leave this place, get far, far away, and never again endure this bone-cutting torture. Just then, my phone vibrated again. This time, the notice came from the court. “Ms. Shaw, your divorce from Mr. Ethan is now final. The divorce decree will be mailed to your address.” It was really over. I gripped my phone, my knuckles turning slightly white from the force. I looked at that short text for a long, long time, so long that the screen’s light automatically turned off, and I lit it up again. Then I tilted my head back and slowly, gradually, exhaled a long breath. That breath seemed to expel all the grievances, pain, struggles, and unwillingness accumulated over these five years of marriage, along with the last trace of hope for that person, all expelled from my body. I threw off the covers and, enduring the bone-deep soreness throughout my body, got out of bed and began final preparations. Actually, there wasn’t much left to pack. Those things belonging to “Mrs. Blackwood,” the luxurious clothes and jewelry, I had already picked out and left in the closet. Most of the things belonging to Vivian Shaw I had already packed. I folded the last few pieces of old clothes I wore regularly and put them in the suitcase, pulling the zipper closed with force. Three o’clock in the afternoon. Takeoff. I dragged my suitcase downstairs. The butler was directing servants to clean the living room. Seeing me, he was clearly stunned. “You’re…” “I’m leaving.” I stopped and looked calmly at this old man who had taken care of me for several years. “Thank you for looking after me all these years.” “What are you saying?! Does the sir… does he know?” The butler looked completely bewildered, trying frantically to stop me. “He and I are already divorced.” I smiled faintly. “Starting today, I’m no longer Ethan’s wife.” I dragged my suitcase out the front door. The morning breeze blew in my face. I took a deep breath of free air and hailed a cab straight to City Hall. When I received that divorce certificate, my hands trembled slightly. I opened the thin booklet and glanced at it. On it, my name and Ethan’s were finally side by side, yet completely separated by that certificate. How wonderful. This long dream that had flayed and dismembered me was finally over. I took a cab to the airport, completed check-in procedures, checked my luggage, and sat in the departure lounge watching planes take off and land outside. My phone suddenly rang urgently. Caller ID: Ethan. I looked at those three words, not a ripple rising in my heart. I didn’t answer, letting it ring until it automatically disconnected. He called again, over and over, hysterically, relentlessly. The phone vibrated in my palm, annoyingly noisy. Expressionless, I long-pressed the power button, slid the screen, and decisively turned it off. A sweet boarding announcement came over the loudspeaker. I stood up, dragging my suitcase, and walked toward the gate without looking back. When the plane took off, a huge roar filled my eardrums. I turned my head to look out the window. That city that had trapped me for five years grew smaller and smaller until it was completely obscured by white clouds. In my heart was an unprecedented calm. Goodbye, Ethan. Goodbye to that humble, people-pleasing past. The plane pierced through thick cloud layers, flying toward the sky, toward the blinding sun, flying toward my new life.

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