Category: English

The air in the suite was still heavy with the scent of expensive lilies and the lingering hum of the reception downstairs. It was my wedding night—the beginning of everything I had spent years dreaming of. But when I reached for my wife, she pulled away with a coldness that made my skin crawl. I thought she was just exhausted. The wedding had been a marathon of high-society expectations and forced smiles. I reached out again, trying to pull her into my arms, ready to make a joke to break the tension. “It’s actually pretty boring being with you,” she said. Her voice was flat, as if she were discussing the weather. She gestured toward the nightstand, where a box of condoms sat. My best friend, Dexter, had handed them to me earlier that day with a wink. “Before the ceremony, he and I were together all night,” Monica said, her tone light, almost conversational. “That box? It’s empty. We used them all.” The room seemed to tilt. I felt the blood drain from my face, but she wasn’t finished. “When I was late to the toasts? It wasn’t because I felt faint. We were in the dressing room for another round. That’s why my legs were shaking when I finally came out.” A small, reminiscent smile played on her lips. “To be honest, being with him is the only thing that makes me feel alive. He knows exactly how to handle a woman. He gave me a pleasure I didn’t know existed.” She looked at me then, her eyes sharp as glass. “Something you could never do.” Her words were like serrated blades carving through my chest. I stood there, frozen, my mouth opening and closing as my throat tightened, sealing off any sound. Monica sighed, a soft sound that held a hint of apology but far more relief. “Logan, I’ve said what I needed to say. Whether we keep this farce going or not… that’s up to you.” 1 I stared at her, listening to the casual cruelty of her voice. I forced every ounce of my remaining strength into three raspy words. “Why? Just… why?” Monica paused, her gaze drifting back to me with utter indifference. “Why what? Why did I sleep with him? Or why am I telling you now?” The silence that followed was suffocating. She let out a short, mocking scoff. “Logan, every time we tried, you always had an excuse. ‘Not in the mood,’ ‘Not feeling right.’ If you’re broken, is it really my fault for looking elsewhere? I wasn’t going to tell you—Dexter was worried about losing his ‘brother’—but three years is a long time to play pretend. Hiding every time we wanted to touch each other was getting exhausting.” My heart hammered against my ribs. “Three years?” Monica nodded, her expression thoughtful. Then, she let out a genuine laugh. “Yeah. Three years ago, at your parents’ funeral. After you passed out from crying so hard, we went into the room next door. It was the first time. We were so reckless I ruined my dress. You thought it was my period, remember? You spent the whole day taking care of me. You even hand-washed the silk, thinking you were being so sweet, not realizing you were scrubbing his fluids out of my skirt.” Seeing that malicious glint in her eyes, I reached my breaking point. I didn’t think; I just reacted. My hand swung out, and the crack of the slap echoed through the room. “Have you no shame, Monica? Have you no soul?” The despair felt like a black hole opening up inside me. It dragged me back to when I was eighteen. My father’s business had collapsed into a heap of debt and scandals. I watched him walk off the edge of a rooftop. I came home to find my mother being tormented by creditors—men who stripped her of her dignity until she, too, followed him into the abyss, dying right in front of me. I lost everything in a single night. The depression that followed wasn’t just sadness; it was a physical weight that crushed the life out of me. During those dark years, Monica and Dexter were my anchors. They were the ones who stayed. I worked three jobs, destroying my health to pay off the debts my father left behind. Every time I felt like I was slipping into the dark, Monica would hold me, whispering into my ear, “Don’t be afraid, Logan. You have me. I’m never leaving.” Even last night, she had called me, her voice trembling with what I thought was joy, calling me “husband” over and over. Remembering how raspy her voice had sounded on that call, the realization hit me like a physical blow. She wasn’t crying because she was happy to marry me. I was just the audience for their twisted foreplay. My stomach churned. I lurched off the bed, stumbling toward the bathroom, and began to retch violently. My strength evaporated. A shadow fell over me. Monica stood in the doorway, looking down at my trembling body. For the first time in years, she didn’t reach down to hold me. She just watched me, her face a mask of boredom. Finally, she pulled a tissue from the box and dropped it near my hand, like she was feeding a stray dog. “Clean yourself up. A grown man acting like this… it’s pathetic.” 2 The disdain in her voice acted like a trigger. I shoved the tissue away, my voice cracking. “Don’t touch me. We’re done, Monica. I want a divorce.” My vision swam with black spots. I scrambled toward the nightstand to find my medication, but my hands were shaking so violently that the bottle shattered against the floor, spilling pills everywhere. Monica chuckled, picking up a single pill and rolling it between her fingers. “Divorce?” she asked, her voice mocking. “Logan, look at yourself. You’re a wreck. Without me, without my family’s influence, you wouldn’t last a week in this city. You’d be back in the gutter where I found you.” Her eyes began to blur as my consciousness flickered. As I slipped into the dark, memories flashed like a frantic montage. The years of heavy medication just to keep my heart beating. The relatives who vanished the moment the money did. The funeral where no one showed up except for them. Monica, the spoiled rich girl who didn’t know how to boil water, had spent months learning to cook just to make sure I ate. When the medication made my hair fall out in clumps, she didn’t hesitate—she cut her own long, beautiful hair off to match me. And the last time I tried to end it all… when I stood on that window ledge… she had climbed out right next to me. “If you jump, Logan, I’m right behind you. I don’t want a world without you.” The sweetness of the past felt like poison in my veins. The image shifted—distorted. I saw them together, laughing at me. I bolted upright in a hospital bed, gasping for air. A muffled, rhythmic sound came from behind the thin curtain of the room’s partition. Groans. Whispers. I froze. I wasn’t dreaming. I forced myself out of bed, my legs like lead. I stood outside the heavy door of the private suite’s sitting area. The sounds from inside made the bile rise in my throat again. I pushed the door open and vomited right there on the polished floor. The room went silent. Dexter, fully dressed but with his shirt tucked in haphazardly, rushed over to help me. I looked up at him, my eyes bloodshot and stinging. I saw the marks on his neck, then looked past him at Monica, who was adjusting her skirt with a look of pure guilt. I swung. My fist connected with Dexter’s jaw, fueled by years of misplaced gratitude. “How could you?” I screamed. “You’re supposed to be my brother!” Before I could land another blow, I was shoved hard. I hit the floor, the world spinning. Monica was standing over Dexter, shielding him, her face contorted with rage. “What is wrong with you, Logan? Are you insane?” She frantically checked Dexter’s face for bruises. Dexter looked at me, then at her, his expression shifting to one of feigned regret. “Mo… you told him? I told you not to tell him.” He turned to me, his voice smooth and manipulative. “Logan, look, it was an accident. Just let me explain.” 3 “An accident?” I stared into Dexter’s eyes, searching for a shred of the friend I thought I knew. “Fucking my girlfriend at my parents’ funeral was an accident? Sleeping with my wife for three years was an accident? Monica said you were together all night—she was still on top of you while she was supposed to be changing for our wedding toast! Are you two really that desperate? That pathetic?” My words stung. Dexter’s face darkened. “Logan, we’ve been friends since we were kids. Don’t make this uglier than it has to be.” Monica let out a sharp, cold laugh. “Logan, watch your mouth. Don’t talk about ‘affairs.’ To be honest—” “Monica, don’t,” Dexter snapped, cutting her off. I looked at her, at the way she looked at him, and I felt a hysterical laugh bubbling up. “Did I say something wrong? You two are the ones doing the dirty work, yet you want to keep your hands clean? I didn’t realize how truly disgusting you both were.” Monica snapped. She screamed at the top of her lungs, “Disgusting? You want to talk about disgusting? Dexter and I might be a lot of things, but we aren’t so pathetic that we watched our own mother get ruined until she jumped off a building. You want to talk about ‘dirty’? Look in a mirror, Logan!” The world stopped. Dexter’s face went pale. He immediately grabbed her, covering her mouth. “Monica, shut up!” She realized what she’d said. She looked at me, at the way the light had completely vanished from my eyes, and a flicker of remorse crossed her face. She opened her mouth to apologize, but I didn’t give her the chance. I grabbed a heavy gift basket from the table—something Dexter had brought—and hurled it at them with every bit of strength I had. “GET OUT!” “Monica, watch out!” Dexter lunged in front of her. The wicker and glass shattered against him, slicing into his arms. “Dexter!” Monica screamed. Seeing the blood blooming through his shirt, her guilt vanished, replaced by a white-hot fury. She marched over and slapped me, hard. “You’re out of your mind! You know Dexter has a coagulation disorder! Are you trying to kill him?” Dexter held her back, playing the martyr. “Mo, it’s fine. I deserve it. He’s sick, don’t let him get to you.” His “noble” act made me look like the villain. It worked. Monica’s rage doubled. “Sick? He’s plenty strong when he’s attacking people! Why is it that everyone else gets better, but you just stay ‘sick’? You’re faking it, Logan. You just love the attention!” I stood there, paralyzed. Ever since I proposed to Monica, I thought I was cured. I thought I had finally found the light. I didn’t realize that to her, my survival was just a long, boring performance. “Ms. Thorne, Mr. Brooks is losing too much blood. He needs an immediate transfusion,” a doctor said, rushing in after hearing the commotion. “But he’s O-negative, and the hospital bank is low.” Monica didn’t hesitate. She grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the door. “He’s the same blood type. Take it from him.” I tried to fight, but the Thorne family bodyguards were already there. They pinned me down and dragged me into a procedure room. A sedative hit my veins. My resistance died. Monica forgot one thing. Dexter had a clotting issue, yes. But after years of illness and malnutrition, I was severely anemic. By the time they were done, I was hovering on the edge of a blackout, unable to even lift my head. Monica never came back to my room. Instead, Dexter sent a flurry of “apology” texts in the middle of the night. I didn’t read them. I blocked his number. At dawn, I checked myself out. I limped to the city hall, the marriage certificate clutched in my hand. I couldn’t bear to be tied to her for another second. But when I handed the papers to the clerk, she looked at them, then at me, with a strange, pitying expression. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hunter. This certificate is a forgery.” I stared at her. “That’s impossible. We signed it three months ago. Monica Thorne. Look again.” The clerk sighed and pulled up the records on her screen. “Ms. Thorne is indeed married, sir. But her husband’s name isn’t Logan Hunter. It’s Dexter Brooks.” 4 I walked out of the government building, the useless piece of paper fluttering in my hand. I started to laugh, and the laughter turned into ragged, choking sobs. So that’s what she was going to say in the hospital. It wasn’t an affair. I wasn’t the husband being cheated on. I was the mistress. I was the side-show. I was the third wheel in my own life. I was wandering aimlessly when a black SUV screeched to a halt beside me. Two men jumped out and threw me into the back seat. Monica was there, her eyes red and swollen. “Logan! I told you to stay away from Dexter! Are you trying to destroy him?” She shoved her phone into my face. SCANDAL: Brooks Heir Caught in BDSM Affair at Funeral; Brooks Group Stock Plunges. The video on the screen was a grainy, hidden-camera shot. The background was unmistakable: it was the funeral home where my parents had been laid to rest three years ago. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Dexter’s father had a heart attack. The family had him whipped—he’s in the ICU right now! He worked for years to become the heir, and you ruined it in a second!” I stared at her, bewildered. I was so sick back then; I barely remembered the funeral. How could I have filmed anything? “You think I did this?” Monica’s fury spiked. “Who else would want to hurt him like this? You’ve pushed me too far, Logan.” She tapped her phone and sent a file. Then, she ordered the driver to the city center. “Dexter and I got married a year ago,” she said, her voice trembling with a cruel sort of triumph. “He’s my legal husband. Out of pity for you, he let you have the ‘wedding.’ He was willing to be the invisible man just so you wouldn’t break. And this is how you repay him?” “You like posting videos?” she hissed. “Fine. Let’s see how you like this one.” We pulled up to the tallest skyscraper in the city, the one with the massive LED screens. My heart stopped. On the giant screens, visible to thousands of commuters, a video began to play. It was my mother. The night of the bankruptcy. The men who had broken into our house were humiliating her, laughing as she begged for mercy. It was the deepest, most private trauma of my life. “Stop it,” I whispered. “Monica, stop it!” But she wasn’t done. The car sped toward the outskirts, toward the abandoned apartment building where my parents had jumped. Monica’s smile was demonic. “Since you love funerals so much, why don’t we visit them one last time?” Several of her family’s men were already on the roof. They were holding two ceramic urns. My parents’ ashes. “No! Stop! Please!” I tried to lunged out of the car, but the guards pinned me to the pavement. I watched, screaming, as they tilted the urns. A gray cloud of ash spilled into the wind, scattering over the trash and the dirty concrete of the alleyway. “Drag him up there,” Monica commanded. “Lock him in that building until Dexter wakes up. Let him think about what he’s done.” By the time they dragged me to the roof, the urns were empty. I fell to my knees, clawing at the dust and gravel, trying to find any trace of them, let alone a goodbye. I let out a sound that wasn’t human—a raw, broken howl of agony. In the car below, Monica’s assistant winced. “Ma’am… is this too much? He’s unstable. If he has an episode…” Monica scoffed, her eyes cold as she watched the building. “There are no ‘episodes.’ It’s just fake ash—I had the urns swapped. It’s a lesson. He needs to learn that for every action, there’s a consequence. Dexter is the victim here.” Her phone rang. It was the hospital. Dexter was awake. Without another look at the building, she ordered the driver to go. She spent the night by Dexter’s side, managing the PR crisis and ensuring the scandal was buried. Only when his vitals were stable did she finally relax. “The heat is off Dexter,” she told her assistant. “Call the guys at the apartment. Tell them to bring Logan here. He’s going to apologize to Dexter on his knees.” Just as the assistant reached for his phone, the hospital’s waiting room TV flashed an emergency bulletin. “Breaking News: A man has just jumped from the roof of the Willow Street Apartments. Witnesses say he was clutching two empty urns. The victim was pronounced dead at the scene. Viewer discretion is advised…”

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My best friend, Jackson, had been stood up by his bride-to-be, and there he was on his wedding day, tears streaming down his face, begging me for a favor I never thought I’d have to grant. My fiancée, Michelle, patted his shoulder with a confident smile, trying to soothe him. She told me they had grown up together, that their bond was thicker than blood, and that stepping in today was just a formality—a way to save face for his family. “Besides,” she’d laughed, her eyes bright and teasing, “we’re getting married next week anyway. Think of this as a dress rehearsal. We can get the jitters out of the way early.” Out of respect for our years of friendship, and despite the knot of unease tightening in my chest, I gritted my teeth and agreed. I had no idea that my fiancée, the woman who was supposed to be the maid of honor, would actually step into that white gown and become Jackson’s “bride.” At the altar, Michelle’s arm was hooked firmly through Jackson’s. The look in her eyes as she gazed at him wasn’t the look of a friend performing a favor; it was a raw, unshielded adoration I hadn’t seen in years. When the officiant asked if she would take him to be her husband, her “I do” was sharper, more certain than it had been when I’d proposed to her on a rainy night in October. I stood there, a glorified extra in my own life, telling myself it was just an act. Don’t be the jealous guy, Theo, I whispered to myself. It’s just a performance. The ceremony moved to the exchange of rings. Everything was going according to the script—until the officiant smiled and announced, “The groom may now kiss the bride.” The guests began to cheer and hoot. Jackson actually had the nerve to walk over and clap me on the shoulder first. “Don’t worry, Theo,” he whispered, a smug glint in his eye. “We’re just going to fake it. Camera angles, you know?” Like a fool, I believed him. But a second later, Michelle didn’t just lean in. she stood on her tiptoes, pulled Jackson down by his lapels, and lost herself in a deep, lingering French kiss right in front of everyone. … 1 The moment their lips met, the room erupted. It wasn’t a “stage kiss.” It wasn’t a peck on the cheek. It was a hungry, desperate entanglement of lips and tongues. I froze, the blood draining from my face until I felt as pale as the tablecloths. Beside me, one of the bridesmaids whispered, “Oh my god, are they still acting? That looks… really intense.” Intense. Yeah, that was one word for it. They looked like the only two people in the world. The applause thundered like a physical blow. Someone shouted, “One more!” Jackson finally pulled away, his face flushed as he glanced toward me. He looked like he was about to say something, but Michelle didn’t let him. She hooked her arm around his neck and pulled him back down for a second round. I looked down at my groomsman’s tuxedo, feeling the sheer absurdity of the situation. When the kiss finally ended, Jackson hurried over to me. “Theo, man, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think she would—” He didn’t finish. Michelle grabbed his wrist, pulling him behind her as if she were protecting him from me. “Theo, it’s just a show,” she said, her voice ringing with a terrifyingly calm authority. “You’re the one who gave us the green light. Don’t take it out on Jackson.” She sounded so righteous, so logical, that for a split second, I felt like the one being unreasonable. Jackson chimed in, “Seriously, Theo. There’s nothing going on. Michelle loves you. You’re her world.” Her world? She knew how much this would hurt me, and yet she chose to devour another man’s mouth in a room full of our peers. I didn’t say a word. I threw the boutonniere I was holding onto the floor and turned, running out of the banquet hall into the biting afternoon air. In the past, Michelle would have chased after me. She would have apologized until she was blue in the face, begging for my forgiveness. But today, I stood in the cold for thirty minutes, smoking through two cigarettes, and she never came. Finally, I crushed the second butt under my shoe and walked back inside. As I passed the hallway leading to the bridal suite, I noticed the door was cracked open. A soft, rhythmic sound caught my ear. I stopped. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Through the gap in the door, I saw them. On the velvet sofa, Michelle and Jackson were a mess of limbs and white lace. Her gown was pushed up to her waist, her breath coming in jagged, rhythmic gasps. She let out a soft moan and playfully slapped his chest. “Jackson, are you crazy? What if Theo sees us?” Jackson didn’t flinch. He let out a low, dark chuckle. “Michelle, babe, we’ve been sneaking around for two years. If he was going to find out, he would’ve done it by now.” He gripped her hips, pinning her deeper into the cushions. “Besides, we just signed the papers. Is it a crime to sleep with my own wife?” Two years? Signed papers? I felt like I’d been plunged into a frozen lake. My lungs burned as I tried to draw air. Michelle didn’t pull away. Instead, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “I only signed those papers because of the baby, Jackson. I’m supposed to marry Theo next week, and I still haven’t figured out how to break it to him…” My fingernails bit into my palms, drawing blood. The baby. The pregnancy she’d announced three weeks ago—the one that had me crying tears of joy, the one that had me rushing to finalize our wedding plans. It wasn’t mine. Jackson leaned down, his voice dripping with a tenderness he’d never shown me. “We’ll just get a fake marriage certificate for the Theo wedding. He’s so gullible, he’ll never check the registry. Even after you marry him, you’ll still be mine…” “Careful,” Michelle whispered, her voice breathless. “Think about the baby.” “I’m being careful. I’ll be so gentle…” The sounds that followed—the wet, sickeningly intimate noises of a couple in love—made the world tilt on its axis. I stumbled back, leaning against the cold wallpaper, gasping for air. One was my best friend of ten years. The other was the woman I’d loved for five. The two people I trusted most in the world had been using the “best friend” label as a cloak for their filth. Eventually, they emerged from the room, hand in hand. When they saw me standing there, the blood drained from their faces. Jackson was the first to react. He rushed forward to grab my arm, but all I could see was the fresh, red hickey blooming on his neck. “Theo, look, I’m sorry,” Jackson stammered. “Michelle lost her head for a second, but I’ve already talked to her about it. I told her she needs to be more careful.” He glanced back at Michelle, a silent command in his eyes. “Tell him you’re sorry, Michelle.” Michelle stepped forward, putting on that sweet, pouty face she used whenever she wanted something. “Theo, honey, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking about how it would look to you.” I looked into her eyes. They were the same eyes that, just minutes ago, had been clouded with passion for a man who wasn’t me. I balled my fist, the rage finally overriding the shock. I swung at Jackson’s smug face, but Michelle was faster. She grabbed my wrist and shoved me back with a strength born of pure adrenaline. “Have you lost your mind?” she screamed. I didn’t fight back, terrified of hurting her—or the child I still, for some stupid reason, felt a protective instinct toward. I hit the wall hard, stars dancing in my vision. “Michelle,” I rasped, “is he just a friend? Tell me the truth.” 2 Panic flickered in Michelle’s eyes, but she smothered it instantly, replacing it with a look of offended confusion. “Are you seriously questioning me right now?” she snapped. “Jackson and I grew up together. Sometimes we get a little too comfortable, sure, but it’s not what you’re making it out to be. You’re being paranoid.” She wouldn’t admit it. Not even now. Looking back, the breadcrumbs were everywhere. I had just been too blind to follow the trail. Ever since I started dating Michelle, we were a trio. Everywhere we went, Jackson was there. She could never remember my birthday, but she always had a midnight surprise ready for his. I can’t eat spicy food—it triggers my ulcers—yet she always ordered the spiciest dishes on the menu because “Jackson loves the heat.” When Jackson felt a cold coming on, Michelle would tell him to take the day off work. When my stomach was cramping so hard I was curled on the floor, she told me to “tough it out” and reminded me not to be late for our board meeting. We had started our company together—the three of us. But after we went public, Jackson’s salary was mysteriously double mine. I’d complained. I’d been jealous. But Michelle always had the same answer: “Jackson has been in my life forever, Theo. He’s your brother. I can’t treat him like a stranger.” Brother? The way she looked at him wasn’t sisterly. It was the look of a woman who had found her home. Michelle told me to go home and “calm down,” practically shoving me into an Uber. But as soon as we reached my apartment, she didn’t get out. She kept the engine running. “Jackson’s bride leaving him really messed him up,” she said, not looking at me. “After that scene you just caused, he’s probably drinking himself into a hole. I’m going to go check on him for you.” She didn’t care about my state of mind. She didn’t care that my world had just collapsed. Her only concern was the man she’d just been tangled with on a locker room sofa. Once I was inside, I found myself pacing the living room like a caged animal. I stumbled upon a leather-bound journal tucked behind some cookbooks. Every page was a log of flights to London. Below the dates were her notes in cramped, neat handwriting. [Jackson moved to the London branch. I can’t breathe without him. I have to go.] [Three days in London. I told Theo it was a tech conference. In reality, I just needed to feel Jackson’s skin against mine.] I flipped to the entry from our three-year anniversary. My vision blurred with hot, angry tears. [I finally told him. I confessed. It turns out he’s loved me since we were kids. I can’t let him go. Jackson doesn’t want to lose Theo as a friend, though. He told me not to break up with him. I agreed. It hurts, but as long as I get to keep them both, I’ll play the part.] [We finally did it. Compared to Theo, my body just… responds to Jackson. He knows exactly how to touch me.] That night, on our anniversary, I had called her a dozen times. She’d declined every one. Finally, she’d sent a cold text: Busy. Stop bothering me. She wasn’t busy. She was busy sleeping with my best friend. I reached the last page. It was dated from three days ago. [Jackson tried to find some random girl to marry to keep up appearances. I told him no. He’s the father of my child. I won’t let him go. I’ll find a way.] Tucked into the back of the journal was a prenatal report. Under “Father’s Name,” the name Jackson Vane was printed in cold, black ink. I crumpled the paper, my fingers shaking. The day Michelle found out she was pregnant, she’d flown to London. She’d even given me time off work, telling me to “help Jackson with his wedding planning” while she “handled business.” She had orchestrated the “runaway bride” herself, just so she could have an excuse to stand at that altar with him. My phone buzzed. It was my mother. “Theo, honey! When are you and Michelle coming home? The whole family is waiting for the big day!” “Mom,” I said, my voice sounding like it was coming from a great distance. “I’m not marrying Michelle.” Before she could protest, I added, “But don’t worry. The wedding is still happening. I’m just changing the bride.” 3 I spent the entire night reading that journal. Two years. Over a hundred flight stubs. Every single word was a testament to her devotion to Jackson. By sunrise, I was standing at Jackson’s front door. Michelle’s designer heels were in the entryway. The sound of light, melodic laughter drifted from the kitchen. Michelle, who had never cooked a meal for me in five years, was wearing an apron, stirring a pot of soup for him. Jackson wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. “You should probably go check on Theo. He’s definitely spiraling.” Michelle’s voice was cold, indifferent. “Why should I care if he’s sad? I’m the one who’s pregnant, and he hasn’t even asked how I’m feeling. He expects me to coddle him?” She sighed, leaning back into Jackson. “I don’t think I ever really loved him, Jackson. Not like this. Not in any way that matters. He’s just… less than you. In every way.” The words were a physical serration across my heart. Five years. I helped her build her company from a garage startup to a multi-million dollar IPO. And all it was worth to her was “less than.” The rage finally broke through. I didn’t think; I just moved. Before I knew it, my palm had connected with Michelle’s face. “It’s over, Michelle. I’m done. You two deserve each other.” Jackson jumped in front of her. “Theo, wait! You’re misunderstanding—” I threw the prenatal report and the journal into his face. “The baby is yours. You’re both disgusting. Why even pretend anymore?” Michelle slowly knelt to pick up the papers. When she looked up, her expression was terrifyingly calm. “So what, Theo? Our wedding is next week. If you bail now, how are you going to explain it to your parents? To the board? To the press?” Jackson looked down, his voice thick with fake guilt. “I’m sorry, Theo. I’ll take her to the clinic today. We’ll take care of it.” Michelle gripped his arm, glaring at me. “No! I’m not terminating this pregnancy.” She looked at me with pure venom. “Theo, let’s be honest. You’re the one with the ‘issues.’ It took us years and we never conceived. This baby is a miracle. You should be thanking Jackson.” She smirked. “I’ll play along for the wedding. It’s the least I can do. After all, with your reputation, who else would ever want you?” Jackson tried to cover her mouth, but the damage was done. I stood there, paralyzed. She had gone for the jugular. When I was nineteen, an ex-girlfriend of mine got pregnant. She was terrified, and the timing was all wrong. I did the “honorable” thing and went with her to the clinic. But when we got back to campus, the rumors started. People whispered that I was “unclean,” that I was a predator who got girls pregnant and then forced them into procedures. I was blacklisted, bullied, and spat on. I almost didn’t make it through those years. Jackson was the only one who stood by me. He was the one who pulled me back from the edge. And then he introduced me to Michelle. She claimed she never believed the rumors. She fought people who spoke ill of me. The day we went public with our relationship, the university was in an uproar. Why would the campus golden girl date a “tainted” loser like me? She had squeezed my hand and said, “Theo is the best man in the world. I want to give him everything.” I believed her. But now, the person who pulled me out of the abyss was the one kicking me back in. “Michelle,” I whispered, looking into her eyes. They used to be so warm. Now they were just glass. “You said you only believed in me. Was that all a lie?” She didn’t answer. Her silence was the loudest thing in the room. Jackson saw the look on my face—the look of a man who had nothing left to lose—and he panicked. “Theo, don’t listen to her, she’s just upset—” He reached out to grab my shoulder, and I shoved him away with every ounce of strength I had left. He tripped, his head slamming into the corner of the marble dining table. He collapsed, clutching his bleeding forehead, his face going ghostly white. Before I could even process what happened, a force slammed into me. Michelle shoved me against the table. A glass vase shattered under my weight. Shards of glass sliced into my palm, but I didn’t feel the pain. She rushed to Jackson, cradling his head, screaming at me. “If anything happens to him, Theo, I will destroy you! And don’t even think about the wedding. It’s off! You’re nothing without me!” She didn’t look back as she helped him out the door. I stayed there, kneeling in the mess of glass and blood. Michelle didn’t realize one thing. Even without her, the wedding was going to happen. 4 I flew back to the city that night. As soon as I landed, I sent a text to a number I hadn’t dialed in years: I’m back. Let’s get the license tomorrow. The reply came instantly: Okay. Michelle had dumped all the wedding planning on me months ago. She said she was too busy with “work,” and told me to make all the executive decisions. So, I did. I changed the name on the marriage license. The morning of the wedding, I was in my tuxedo, heading downstairs to the car. A black sedan was idling at the curb. Michelle stepped out, holding a bouquet of red roses. Her expression was softer than it had been, almost nervous. “Theo, look. About the other day… I was out of line. I’ll do whatever you want today. I’ll be the perfect bride, okay? Let’s just get through this.” Before I could speak, she added her terms. “But you have to promise me you won’t make things hard for Jackson. He’s still your best friend, even if we messed up. We can still be a family… the three of us.” She said it like she was doing me a favor. Like she was a queen granting a pardon. I just shook my head slowly. “No thanks, Michelle.” She assumed I was just being stubborn. She grabbed my wrist and tried to pull me toward the car. “Come on, Theo. Don’t be a child.” “Michelle, let go—” She didn’t listen. She signaled to her driver to help her force me into the back seat. I pounded on the window. “Michelle, what the hell are you doing? Let me out!” “Theo, it’s our wedding day! Do you really want to make a scene?” “You don’t understand, Michelle. The bride isn’t—” My words were cut off by the shrill ring of her phone. Jackson’s voice, panicked and weak, filled the car. “Michelle… I’ve been in a wreck. I don’t think I’m going to make it to the ceremony…” Michelle’s entire demeanor shifted. The color drained from her face. “I’m coming! Hang on!” She slammed the car into gear and pulled a jagged U-turn, flooring the accelerator. Rage and grief boiled in my throat. I hammered on the glass until my knuckles were raw and bloody. “Michelle, let me out! I have a wedding to get to!” She gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. “Jackson might be dying and you’re worried about a party? The wedding is canceled, Theo! How can you be so cold-blooded when your best friend is hurt?” I stared at her, my voice rasping. “I don’t care if he’s dead or alive, Michelle.” She didn’t say another word. She just pushed the car faster. The speedometer hit 80, then 90. She took a sharp turn, and my head slammed against the window. Blood started to trickle down my forehead. She glanced at me, but she didn’t slow down. “I told you to sit still! Stop acting like a psycho!” The world was turning red as blood ran into my eye. The speedometer hit 110. Desperation is a powerful thing. It makes the impossible seem like the only option. “You aren’t going to let me out, are you?” I whispered. “Not until we see Jackson. And when we do, you’re going to apologize to him.” I took a deep breath and reached for the door handle. “Theo, what are you—” I didn’t give her time to finish. I threw the door open. The roar of the wind filled the cabin, whipping my suit jacket around. Michelle’s eyes went wide with pure terror. “Theo, don’t!” I jumped. For a second, I was weightless. Then, the world became a symphony of pain and screaming wind, followed by the distant, haunting sound of Michelle’s voice. “THEO!”

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“Natalie, this is the last viable embryo. Without Mr. Sterling’s signature, we cannot proceed with the transfer.” I clutched my phone. The screen showed I’d called him 99 times. No response to any of them. But on TV, Adrian Sterling was in Switzerland rescuing his first love. He held that woman in his arms. “I love you. Even if it costs me these hands, I’m willing to save you.” He’d forgotten. Today was our last chance to become parents. Ninety-nine hormone injections, three years of torture, wounds covering my body. I’d shouldered the family shame of his infertility for him, yet there he was on a cliff’s edge, making passionate declarations to his mistress. Later, when I hemorrhaged from my uterus, he kicked me in the knee and cursed me as vile. “Did you miscarry because you were carrying some bastard’s child?” Love turned to hate. I came to despise Adrian. Two years after I faked my death and escaped, Adrian tracked me down. I pointed to the man beside me and smiled: “Adrian , let me introduce you. This is my husband.”

Natalie POV The private hospital’s air conditioning ran at full blast. The instant the needle pierced my skin, I felt no pain. This was my ninety-ninth ovarian stimulation injection. “Natalie, this is the last viable embryo we have.” The doctor looked at my abdomen, covered in bruises, with sympathy in her eyes. “Is Mr. Sterling still not coming to sign today? Without your spouse present to sign, we cannot transfer this embryo for you.” I lowered my lashes, my fingertips gripping the phone turning an unnatural pale color. On the screen, I’d sent Adrian thirty-six messages and made over a dozen calls. Without exception, all had gone unanswered. “He’s… busy.” I forced out a smile uglier than crying. “Doctor, can we wait a bit longer? He promised he’d definitely come today.” The doctor sighed, about to speak, when the LCD TV on the wall suddenly interrupted with breaking international news. “A major avalanche struck a canyon in Switzerland. Our country’s renowned extreme rock climber Adrian Sterling, three hours ago, free-soloed a sheer cliff face without protection to successfully rescue his former partner, Sophie Lane…” On screen, wind and snow raged. The man I’d been waiting for an entire day and night wore a thin windbreaker, clutching a woman tightly in his arms. His hands, those hands he took such pride in, those hands insured for hundreds of millions, now gripped the rock face. Blood dripped from between his fingers onto the snow, a shocking sight. When the reporter thrust the microphone toward him, Adrian gasped for breath, but his eyes held a fervor and relief I’d never seen before. “As long as she’s safe, I’d be willing even if it cost me these hands.” I stared at the screen, my heart seized by an invisible hand, each breath tasting of blood. He’d sacrifice his hands. Yet he knew full well that today was the most important day of my life. Adrian had azoospermia. Three years ago when we got the diagnosis, this prideful rock climbing genius locked himself in a dark room for an entire week. I was the one who stayed with him, kissing his trembling spine over and over, telling him. “It’s okay if we don’t have children. I only need you.” But Adrian’s soul was too proud. He felt he’d wronged me, even suggested divorce. To soothe his ego, I volunteered to do IVF. Punctures, egg retrievals, failures, trying again. Over three years, I’d put myself through hell, forcing out this one last successfully matched embryo from his body that had been practically sentenced to death. Last night, he’d held me, kissing the needle marks on my abdomen, his voice tender enough to drip water. “Nat, tomorrow I’ll be there with you. We’ll bring our baby home.” But now, he was in Switzerland, holding another woman. Sophie. The first love who’d pursued Adrian for seven years, who once broke her leg saving him. “Natalie?” The doctor called out tentatively. I closed my eyes as tears finally fell onto my hand. I took a deep breath, my voice terribly hoarse. “Never mind. This embryo… destroy it.” “Are you certain? This is your last chance.” “I’m certain.” I stood, didn’t spare the TV screen another glance, and walked out of the examination room. The sunlight outside was blinding. Standing on a New York street, I suddenly felt cold. I remembered five years ago, when Adrian was pursuing me, he carved my name with pitons into a snow-covered mountain at 16,000 feet elevation. He said. “Natalie, I’ve entrusted my life to the mountains, but my heart will forever hang from your carabiner.” However earth-shattering his devotion once was, that’s how heartbreaking his betrayal felt now. I’d endured three years of physical torture for him, while he’d risk his very life for Sophie. My phone suddenly vibrated. A message from Adrian, just one cold sentence. “Emergency situation in Switzerland. Postponing the transfer procedure. We’ll proceed when I get back.” Postpone? He didn’t even ask if today’s injection hurt, didn’t offer a single explanation. Just casually pronounced a death sentence on the procedure. I stared at those words for a long time, my fingers trembling as I typed a reply. “No need to postpone, Adrian. We’re done.” Message failed to send. He’d blocked my messages. I suddenly laughed, laughed until tears came. How absurd. I was here in agony while he found even my messages annoying.

Natalie POV Adrian returned three days later. Not only did he return, he brought Sophie back to our New York townhouse. I was sitting on the living room carpet sorting through discarded hormone medication boxes when the door opened. A wave of Sophie’s signature cold cedarwood perfume aggressively invaded my nostrils. “Nat, I’m home.” Adrian’s voice carried exhaustion. He strode over, habitually moving to kiss my forehead. I turned my head away, dodging. Adrian’s movement froze mid-air, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. He glanced at the medication boxes scattered across the floor, his tone taking on a hint of impatience. “Didn’t I say the transfer was postponed? What are you throwing a tantrum about now?” “Throwing a tantrum?” I looked up at him. The man before me was still handsome, though his eyes now held an edge of irritation toward me. Behind him, Sophie sat in a wheelchair, face pale and pitiable. “Adrian, am I disturbing you two?” Sophie bit her lower lip, her voice light as a feather. “Maybe I should stay at a hotel instead. Natalie doesn’t seem to welcome me.” “Your leg’s injured, there’s no need for a hotel.” Adrian immediately turned, his tone gentle in a way completely different from moments ago. “The doctor said you need rest. This environment is best for you.” Then he turned to look at me, his tone nearly commanding. “Nat, Sophie got injured saving me in Switzerland. She has severe high-altitude sickness aftereffects and needs to stay in the room with the best ventilation. Clear out the second-floor master bedroom and move to the guest room for a few days.” I looked at him in disbelief. The second-floor master bedroom was the one Adrian personally designed when we got married. It had an entire wall of floor-to-ceiling windows and an indoor climbing wall he’d built for me himself. He once pressed me against that wall, kissing my earlobe as he said. “Nat, this is our absolute domain. No one can set foot here.” Now, he wanted me to give it up to Sophie. “What if I refuse?” My voice was soft but carried the finality of death. Adrian’s expression darkened. “Natalie, since when did you become so unreasonable? Sophie got injured because of me. She’s a patient! Can you stop taking out whatever grievances you suffered at the hospital on her?” Whatever grievances. I felt my heart being sawed back and forth with a dull knife. The torture of ninety-nine injections, countless days and nights of hope, my last chance to become a mother. In his eyes, just “whatever grievances.” “Adrian, have you forgotten that three days ago was my last embryo transfer appointment?” I stared at him, eyes red. “Do you know that because you didn’t show up, that embryo has been destroyed?” Adrian froze, a flash of panic in his eyes, quickly masked by irritation. “If it’s destroyed, it’s destroyed. We can just do it again later.” He tugged at his tie, his tone matter-of-fact. “I’m standing right here in front of you, aren’t I? Lost embryos can be replaced. If Sophie had fallen off that cliff, she’d be dead!” I found it utterly absurd. Do it again later? Did he think this was grocery shopping? Did he know how severely my ovaries had deteriorated from excessive stimulation? “Adrian, don’t blame Natalie.” Sophie timely grabbed Adrian’s sleeve, tears uncontrollably falling. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have come back. I understand she wanting a child to secure her position, especially since… since your condition is special.” That sentence precisely hit Adrian’s sorest spot. Azoospermia was the greatest shame of his life. Adrian’s gaze instantly turned ice cold. Looking at me, he spoke with cruel words. “Natalie, must you push me at a time like this? Do you want a child because you love me, or are you afraid I’ll leave you if I don’t have children, so you’re desperate to create leverage to bind me?” I felt thunderstruck. Looking at this man I’d loved for five years, I only felt he’d become terrifyingly unfamiliar. I’d swallowed all my pain to protect his dignity, only to receive such vicious suspicions in return. “Fine, I’ll move out of the master bedroom.” I closed my eyes, swallowing the taste of blood in my throat. “Adrian, don’t you dare regret this.”

Natalie POV I moved to the cold guest room. New York autumns were bone-chillingly cold. The guest room’s heating was broken. I curled up under thin blankets, sharp pains radiating from my lower abdomen. These were side effects from the ovulation drugs, combined with hormonal withdrawal after the embryo destruction. I started hemorrhaging heavily. Blood stained the sheets. The pain left me drenched in cold sweat, without even the strength to reach for my phone. Outside the door came Sophie’s delicate laughter, mixed with Adrian’s low, indulgent voice. “Adrian, this carabiner is so beautiful. It even has letters engraved on it.” “That was something I casually carved ages ago. If you like it, it’s yours.” I bit my lip until I tasted rust. That carabiner was made of pure titanium, custom-made for me the year Adrian won the world championship. Our initials were engraved on it. He said it was proof that he’d entrusted his life to me. Now, he’d casually given it to Sophie. The severe pain began blurring my consciousness. I struggled to crawl out of bed, wanting to find painkillers in the living room. Just as I pushed open the door, I saw Adrian half-kneeling on the floor, holding Sophie’s ankle, carefully applying ice to it. Hearing the noise, Adrian turned his head. Seeing my ashen face and the bloodstains on the hem of my nightgown, his pupils constricted sharply. He stood abruptly. “What happened to you?” I leaned against the doorframe, lacking even the strength to speak. But Sophie cried out, covering her mouth. “Oh my God, Natalie, you… you didn’t have a miscarriage, did you? But Adrian is…” She deliberately left the sentence half-finished, her eyes full of malicious insinuation. Adrian’s face instantly turned iron-gray. He strode over, grabbing my wrist with force nearly crushing my bones. “Natalie, what’s with the blood? What have you been doing behind my back?!” A man with azoospermia, seeing his wife bleeding from below. His first reaction would always be suspicion. The pain made me gasp. Looking at Adrian’s eyes full of doubt and rage, my heart completely died. “What do you think I’ve been doing?” I laughed weakly, my eyes full of mockery. “Adrian, do you think that to have a child, I went and found some random man?” “What else?!” Adrian’s eyes were bloodshot, like an enraged beast. “I can’t have children! Unless you’re telling me you’re on your period?!” He shouted loud enough for even the servants in the living room to hear clearly. To humiliate me, he didn’t even hesitate to publicly expose his own condition. I felt so tired, too tired to even desire explaining. “Yes, I found someone else.” I looked at him, speaking in despair. “Because you’re worthless, Adrian. Not only is your body worthless, your heart has rotted too.” Crack! Adrian slammed his palm against the wall beside me, his knuckles instantly bloody. He stared at me intently, chest heaving violently. “Natalie, you disgust me. You claim to love me, but you actually despise me! All that IVF was just to satisfy your vanity as Mrs. Sterling!” He released his grip abruptly, flinging me aside like discarded trash. I lost my balance, falling hard to the floor. The cramping in my lower abdomen instantly intensified as another warm flow gushed out. “Adrian, don’t be like this. Natalie might just have hormonal imbalance…” Sophie rolled her wheelchair over with false concern, looking down at me on the floor. “Leave her alone!” Adrian coldly glanced at the blood on the floor, his eyes devoid of any compassion. “Since she wants a child so badly, let her lie here in pain until she dies!” With that, he pushed Sophie’s wheelchair and left the townhouse without looking back. The front door slammed shut with a bang. I curled up on the cold floor, staring at that glaring pool of blood, tears silently falling. Adrian, you’ll never know that this pool of blood represents the last drop of blood I shed for loving you.

Natalie POV I spent an entire week in the hospital. Severe ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome, combined with internal bleeding from extreme emotional distress. I nearly died in that hospital. During that entire week, Adrian never appeared once. On discharge day, I took a cab back to the townhouse alone. As soon as I entered, I heard cheering from the second floor. I dragged my weakened body upstairs and pushed open the master bedroom door. On the indoor climbing wall that once belonged to me, Sophie wore my favorite custom climbing outfit, my titanium carabiner with our initials hanging from her waist, struggling to climb upward under Adrian’s protection. “Adrian, I’m scared!” Sophie called out sweetly. “Don’t be afraid. I’m down here holding the belay rope. You’re absolutely safe.” Adrian looked up, hands gripping the safety rope tightly, his gaze focused and tender. This scene pierced my eyes. This wall was built by Adrian for me. He said that because I was afraid of heights, he wanted to build the safest wall at home so I could overcome my fear under his protection, step by step. But now, he was protecting another woman. “What are you doing?” My voice wasn’t loud, but in the empty room it seemed particularly jarring. Adrian’s hands paused. Turning to see me, his brow immediately furrowed. “You’re discharged? Why didn’t you say something in advance?” His tone was bland, as if I’d merely gone on vacation rather than nearly died. Seeing me, Sophie deliberately slipped, screaming as she fell from the wall. “Sophie!” Adrian’s expression changed drastically. He quickly tightened the belay rope, catching Sophie securely in his arms. “Adrian, I was so scared…” Sophie clung tightly to Adrian’s neck, looking at me through tears. “I’m sorry. I just saw this wall hadn’t been used in so long and wanted to try it. Please don’t be angry with Adrian.” I looked at the carabiner on Sophie’s waist and said coldly. “Take off my things.” Sophie shrank back, burrowing deeper into Adrian’s embrace. Adrian protectively held Sophie, his eyes sharp as he looked at me. “Natalie, haven’t you made enough of a scene? Sophie’s just borrowing your equipment. Do you have to be this petty?” “I’m petty?” I pointed at the carabiner, my finger trembling slightly. “Adrian, do you know what that clip means to me? That was your promise to me!” “Promise?” Adrian laughed coldly, as if hearing the world’s greatest joke. “Natalie, you want to talk to me about promises now? When you were bleeding all over the floor behind my back, why didn’t you think about your promises to me?” He still suspected me. I took a deep breath, suppressing the pain in my heart. “I’ll say it one more time. Return my things.” I walked forward, reaching to unfasten the carabiner from Sophie’s waist. “What are you doing!” Adrian shoved me away. Already weak, his push sent my back crashing hard against the solid rock wall. The pain made my vision go dark. Adrian looked down at me condescendingly, his eyes full of disgust. “Natalie, your emotions are too unstable right now. You’re acting like a lunatic. This carabiner would be wasted on you. Sophie’s doing rehabilitation training now. She needs it more than you.” He personally unfastened the carabiner engraved with our names and, right in front of me, rehung it on Sophie’s waist. “From today on, this wall belongs to Sophie. If you’re dissatisfied, get back to your guest room.” I leaned against the wall, watching Adrian’s back as he protectively escorted Sophie away, suddenly feeling this wall was as cold as ice. I once thought Adrian was the safest rope in my world. But it turned out, when he wanted to leave, I didn’t even have the right to be shattered.

Natalie POV Deep autumn in Los Angeles, the ocean breeze carried bone-chilling cold. The annual top-tier charity gala was held at a hotel in Beverly Hills. Adrian forcibly brought me along to dispel rumors about our marriage falling apart. I wore a black high-necked evening gown to hide the bruises on my neck from IV injections. My face was pale, like a soulless puppet, letting Adrian hold my hand as we walked the red carpet. Camera flashes fired frantically. “Mr. Sterling, we heard you nearly died in Switzerland saving Miss Lane. What does Mrs. Sterling think about this?” “Mrs. Sterling, rumors say you haven’t gotten pregnant in five years of marriage because of Mr. Sterling’s physical condition. Is this true?” The reporters’ questions were like poisoned knives, each one extremely sharp. Adrian’s expression instantly darkened. His grip on my hand tightened sharply, squeezing my knuckles in warning. The pain made me frown, but I lacked even the strength to struggle. Just then, a commotion erupted from behind the crowd. “Miss Lane has fainted!” Adrian’s whole body jolted. Almost reflexively, he released my hand. Wearing four-inch heels, his forceful motion made me stumble several steps, nearly falling on the red carpet. But Adrian didn’t even glance at me, pushing through the crowd and rushing toward the back like a madman. On the red carpet, only I remained, standing alone surrounded by countless cameras. Whispers surged around me like a tide. “See? She’s Adrian’s wife, but she still can’t compare to his first love.” “I heard she goes to the hospital every day trying to have a baby, completely exhausting herself. If I were Mr. Sterling, I’d choose Sophie too.” “A woman who can’t have children still occupying the position of Mrs. Sterling. How embarrassing.” Those socialites and wealthy women covered their mouths with fans, their eyes full of undisguised mockery and contempt. I stood in place, nails digging deep into my palms. I didn’t cry, just felt cold. A cold seeping from the marrow of my bones. After the gala officially began, Adrian returned with Sophie. Sophie had changed into a dazzling red gown, holding Adrian’s arm as if she were the evening’s protagonist. The charity auction segment. A painting appeared on the big screen. A snow-capped mountain with a pair of embracing lovers at its peak. This was painted five years ago by a local artist after Adrian and I were rescued from a mountain emergency. An anonymous buyer later purchased it. I never expected to see it here. “Starting bid, one million.” The auctioneer’s gavel fell. I raised my paddle. “Two million.” This was the last clean memory between Adrian and me. I wanted to buy it, then burn it with my own hands. “Three million.” A sweet voice rang out. I turned to see Sophie leaning against Adrian, smiling as she held up her paddle. “Adrian, this painting is so beautiful. I want to hang it on the master bedroom wall.” Sophie spoke coquettishly. Adrian affectionately stroked her hair. “If you like it, buy it.” My fingers trembled slightly as I raised my paddle again. “Five million.” “Ten million.” Adrian didn’t even lift his eyelids, directly bidding for Sophie. The entire room erupted. Everyone looked at me with eyes watching a show. A husband publicly suppressing his own wife at an auction for another woman. This was the ultimate humiliation. I stared intently at Adrian. “Adrian, that’s my painting.” “Your painting?” Adrian laughed coldly, his eyes full of disdain. “Natalie, get it straight. Every dollar you’re spending right now is mine. I’ll spend my money on whoever I want.” He turned to the auctioneer. “Twenty million. This painting is mine.” The gavel fell. This painting no longer belonged to me. Sophie smugly raised her eyebrow at me, then covered her head and leaned on Adrian’s shoulder. “Adrian, I’m so dizzy. It’s too stuffy inside.” “I’ll take you back.” Adrian immediately stood, carefully protecting Sophie as they walked out. Passing by me, he paused, using a voice only the two of us could hear. “Natalie, stop embarrassing me. When the gala ends, get yourself back to New York.” With that, he escorted Sophie away, never looking back. I sat in my seat, watching their departing backs, suddenly laughing out loud. I laughed until tears fell. Under the stares of people looking at a madwoman, I picked up a glass of red wine from the table and drained it in one gulp. Adrian, you won’t even leave me the last bit of memory. Fine. Just fine.

Natalie POV I returned to the New York townhouse in the rain. On the way back to New York, I was like a puppet without a soul. Pushing open the townhouse door, the living room was in chaos. The locked box I’d left on the table had been forcibly pried open. That was where I stored all my IVF documentation and medical records. Now, those consent forms, stimulation records, and embryo cultivation reports that carried three years of my suffering were torn to shreds, scattered across the floor like snow. Sophie sat on the sofa, holding scissors, slowly cutting up an ultrasound report. “Oh my, Natalie is back.” Sophie looked up, her smile innocent yet vicious. “I’m so sorry. I was looking for something earlier and accidentally knocked over your box. These waste papers looked rather unsightly, so I took the liberty of disposing of them for you.” All the blood in my body instantly rushed to my head. I lunged forward, snatching the scissors from Sophie’s hand, pointing at her with bloodshot eyes. “Do you have a death wish?!” “Ahh! Help!” Sophie screamed, toppling from her wheelchair to the floor, a shallow cut from the scissors appearing on the back of her hand. The front door opened at precisely that moment. Adrian stormed in. Seeing this scene, his eyes nearly split with rage. “Natalie! Have you lost your mind!” He charged forward violently, kicking me in the knee. Already weakened, his kick sent me heavily to my knees on those shredded papers. Broken glass shards pierced my kneecap, blood instantly seeping out. Adrian tenderly lifted Sophie from the floor, looking at the cut on her hand, then turned to roar at me. “Are you sick?! How did Sophie offend you that you’d try to kill her with scissors?!” I knelt on the floor, looking at the shredded papers everywhere. This was proof that for him, I’d endured ninety-nine needle punctures. Now, all of it had become “waste paper” in his eyes. “She tore up my medical records.” My voice was eerily calm, calm in a frightening way. “Adrian, she destroyed all the records from three years of IVF treatments I did for you.” Adrian froze, glancing at the shredded papers on the floor, a flash of embarrassment crossing his eyes. But his expression quickly hardened again. “If they’re torn, they’re torn! What’s the point of keeping those things? To remind me you’re a waste who couldn’t even protect a child?!” Those words were like a rusty knife, viciously stabbing into my heart and twisting violently. Looking at Adrian, I suddenly felt the man before me was as unfamiliar as a monster. “Adrian.” I slowly stood, blood from my knee flowing down my calf, leaving shocking red traces on the carpet. I walked to a nearby cabinet, took out a document I’d prepared long ago, and threw it at Adrian’s feet. “Let’s get divorced.” The document clearly read “Divorce Agreement.” Adrian’s pupils constricted sharply. He stared intently at that agreement. “Divorce?” Adrian laughed coldly, tearing the agreement to shreds right in front of me. “Natalie, what game are you playing now to win me back? You want to divorce me over some torn papers?” “Don’t forget. You were the one who insisted on marrying me! You want to leave now? I don’t allow it!” He pointed at Sophie, speaking with self-righteous indignation. “Sophie saved my life on K2! I owe her a debt I can never repay in this lifetime! As my wife, what’s wrong with you suffering a little? Why can’t you be more magnanimous?!” Looking at his furious face, I suddenly felt unbearably sad. “You owe her a life, so you’ll use mine to repay it?” I pulled at the corner of my mouth, my eyes lifeless. “Adrian, I don’t owe you two anything. These five years, I’ve given you everything I could. Now, I want nothing anymore.” I turned toward the stairs, my figure resolute. Adrian suddenly roared. “Natalie! If you dare walk out that door today, don’t ever come back!” My steps didn’t pause. Never come back? That suits me perfectly.

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On our third wedding anniversary, he stayed at the hospital with his first love and only sent me a text message. “Serena’s depression relapsed. I won’t be coming home tonight.” No apology, no explanation. For three years, it had always been like this. For his first love, he trampled on my dignity again and again. She stole my aromatherapy formulas to launch her brand. She shattered my late professor’s legacy on the floor. When I asked him why, he frowned. “She needs this success to overcome her depression.” “Can’t you just behave and stop acting like a difficult woman?” My love for him had already died. I left the signed divorce agreement in the villa and flew to France. The sunlight in Provence was blinding. I picked up a male college student. He looked just like my deceased first love. His features, his outline, even the way he wore a white shirt was identical. I took him walking through the small town and kissed him right in front of Damian. Damian came chasing after me and knelt down, saying he’d get plastic surgery to look like Sebastian, begging me to stay. I laughed. “Damian, you’re not even qualified to be a substitute.”

Natalie’s POV On our third wedding anniversary, Damian stood me up. I sat in my aromatherapy boutique, staring at the French dinner on the table that had long gone cold, sitting motionless for a long time. My phone screen lit up. It was a brief message from Damian. “Serena’s depression relapsed. I’m at the hospital with her. I won’t be coming home tonight.” No apology, no explanation, just a matter-of-fact notification. I stared at those words for a few seconds, then pressed the lock button. I stood up and dumped the carefully prepared steak and red wine into the trash can without the slightest hesitation. A year ago, I might have called him in tears, demanding to know whose husband he really was, or even hysterically rushed to the hospital to try to win him back from Serena. But now, I couldn’t even be bothered to sigh. Because the death of a heart is a long and irreversible process. At two in the morning, the door lock of the villa clicked softly. Damian pushed the door open, bringing in a wave of cold air, and took off his coat that reeked of hospital disinfectant and some sickeningly sweet commercial perfume. I was familiar with that perfume smell. It was Serena’s favorite Sweet Bomb, cheap and pungent. As a professional aromatherapist, I was extremely sensitive to scents. In the past, I had fought with Damian countless times over this smell, only to be met with the man’s impatient rebuke. “Serena is sick. Can’t you stop being so unreasonable?” Now, when I smelled this scent, I only felt a wave of physical nausea rising in my stomach, but no longer had any desire to argue. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” Seeing me sitting on the sofa, Damian frowned slightly, his tone carrying a hint of habitual wariness. He probably thought I was going to throw a tantrum again because he came home late. “I was waiting for you.” I stood up, walked to the table, and handed him a small bottle of sleep-aid essential oil I had just formulated. “You’ve been having serious insomnia lately. This is a new formula. Just put a few drops on your pillow.” Damian froze for a moment, clearly not expecting me to be so calm. He took the essential oil. “Serena was very emotionally unstable today. She kept holding onto my hand and wouldn’t let go. I couldn’t leave.” For once, he offered an explanation, seemingly making excuses for breaking our date. “Mm, I understand.” I responded coolly and turned toward the bedroom. “Get some rest early.” Damian stood there, gripping the bottle of oil, his frown deepening. Damian irritably tugged at his tie. Back in the bedroom, I was already lying down with my back to him. After showering, Damian lay on the other side. Between us was a distance that could fit an iceberg. He habitually applied the essential oil to his pillow. This was a scent I had custom-made exclusively for him, one of a kind in the entire world. Soothed by the fragrance, Damian quickly fell asleep. And I slowly opened my eyes in the darkness. Listening to the man’s steady breathing, I exhaled softly. I gently lifted the covers and got out of bed, walked to the study, and opened an encrypted folder at the bottom of a drawer. Inside lay a prepared Divorce Agreement. In the lower right corner, at the wife’s signature line, my name was already written neatly. There were thirty days left until I completely left. I took a deep breath and locked the drawer again. Damian, the debt I owed you for the past three years, I’ve already repaid with countless nights of companionship. From now on, we owe each other nothing.

Natalie’s POV The next morning, I prepared breakfast as usual. When Damian came downstairs, he looked more relaxed than the night before. He sat down at the dining table, picked up his coffee and took a sip, then spoke in a seemingly casual manner. “The water pipes burst in Serena’s apartment, and the landlord can’t fix them right away. She’s scared to stay in a hotel alone. It might trigger her depression. I told her she could stay in our guest room for a while.” His tone wasn’t asking. it was informing. Even as he said this, his body tensed slightly, bracing himself for my outburst. After all, no wife would accept having her husband’s “good friend” move into their home. However, I only paused in cutting the bread, looked at him for a second, then calmly nodded. “Okay, I understand. I’ll have the housekeeper prepare the guest room.” The knife and fork cutting Damian’s sausage suddenly halted, making a harsh scraping sound in the quiet dining room. He looked at me in disbelief. “You don’t mind?” Damian couldn’t help but ask, his brow furrowed tightly. I asked back: “If I minded, would you tell her not to come?” Damian choked, then said in a low voice: “Serena’s mental state is very fragile right now. As her friend, I can’t ignore her.” “So, since the result won’t change, what’s the point of me minding?” I smiled faintly. “The house has plenty of rooms. As long as she doesn’t mind.” That afternoon, Serena moved in with large and small pieces of luggage. She wore a pure white knit dress, her long hair draped softly over her shoulders, her eyes slightly red, looking pitiful and delicate. “Natalie, I’m sorry to intrude on you both.” Serena stood in the living room, nervously clutching the hem of her dress. “I promise, as soon as the apartment is fixed, I’ll move out immediately.” I watched her performance without responding. Seeing this, Damian immediately shielded Serena behind him, his tone carrying a hint of reproach. “Natalie, Serena is a guest. Show some courtesy.” How interesting. I hadn’t said anything, yet somehow my attitude was bad? “The guest room is on the second floor, first door on the left. The housekeeper has already changed the bedding.” Too lazy to deal with them, I turned to leave for my shop. “Wait!” Serena suddenly covered her nose, her brow furrowed tightly, looking very uncomfortable. “Damian, what’s that smell in this house? It’s so pungent. I’m getting dizzy and my chest feels tight…” Damian immediately supported her anxiously. “What’s wrong? Is your depression causing somatic symptoms again?” He turned to look around, his gaze landing on the diffuser operating in the corner of the living room. It was a top-grade neroli essential oil I had specially formulated to purify the air. “Natalie, get rid of all this aromatherapy nonsense!” Damian ordered sharply. “Don’t you know Serena is sensitive to scents?” I stopped in my tracks. That so-called “aromatherapy nonsense.” It came from precious raw materials I’d spent countless nights collecting from around the world. Once, Damian said he loved having this calming scent in the house. Now, because of Serena’s one word, “pungent,” it had become trash. “Fine.” I didn’t argue. I walked over and unplugged the diffuser directly. Not only that, I called the housekeeper and had all the aromatherapy equipment and essential oil bottles from the living room, hallway, and even Damian’s study packed into boxes. “What are you doing? I only said to remove the one in the living room. I didn’t tell you to take away the ones in my study too.” He said in a low voice. “Since we’re removing them, might as well do it thoroughly, so Miss Serena won’t feel dizzy from catching even a whiff.” I sealed the last box with tape. I removed the aromatherapy, and with it, the last trace of myself in this house. Damian opened his mouth to say something, but Serena timely leaned into his embrace, weakly calling out. “Damian, my head hurts so much…” Damian’s attention was instantly diverted. He immediately lifted Serena in his arms and carried her upstairs. I stood there, watching their intimate figures disappear, and couldn’t help but laugh. I took out my phone and called the real estate agent. “Mr. Wilson, my aromatherapy shop. You can put it on the market now. Yes, the sooner the better.”

Natalie’s POV A week later, the annual business gala was held at a five-star hotel in the city center. As the wife of the CEO of Harrison Group, I was supposed to accompany Damian. I wore a black evening gown with minimalist tailoring, my long hair pinned up, without any excessive embellishment. When Damian saw me, a flash of amazement crossed his eyes, but it was quickly concealed. We had just arrived at the banquet hall and hadn’t yet had a chance to greet several important business partners when a soft voice called from behind. “Damian…” I turned around to see Serena standing not far away in an extremely flamboyant pink strapless gown. Around her neck, she wore a dazzling pink diamond necklace. It was the piece Damian had purchased at auction last month for a high price. At the time, the media had widely reported that he spent so much money to give me a surprise for our anniversary. Turns out, the surprise went to Serena. “Why are you here?” Damian frowned and quickly walked over. “Didn’t I tell you to rest at home?” “Being alone at home was too stifling. I wanted to get some fresh air. A friend had an extra invitation, so I came.” Serena looked at him timidly, then glanced at me. “Natalie, you don’t mind, do you?” I didn’t spare her even a glance. “This is a public venue. What’s there for me to mind?” The gala officially began, and Damian was surrounded by a group of business tycoons offering toasts. Serena stayed close by his side the entire time, as if she were the rightful Mrs. Harrison. And Damian naturally blocked drinks for her, quietly reminding her to avoid cold beverages. Their intimate gestures drew whispers from the socialites and wealthy ladies around. “Mr. Harrison treats that Miss Serena so well. In contrast, Mrs. Harrison is left ignored.” “It’s a business marriage, after all. Where’s the real affection? She’s just a placeholder.” “I heard Mr. Harrison gave that pink diamond necklace to Miss Serena too. What a humiliating position for the wife.” These gossips floated into my ears without any attempt at discretion. In the past, I would have felt embarrassed, humiliated, even cried. But now, I simply picked up a glass of champagne and walked to the quiet terrace alone, enjoying the city’s night view. Just then, a voice with a heavy French accent spoke beside me. “Beautiful lady, you have a very special scent about you.” I turned to see a blonde, blue-eyed foreign man looking at me intently. I recognized him as the internationally renowned master perfumer, Laurent. “It’s vetiver mixed with cedar and just a touch of oud, isn’t it? This ratio is extremely bold, yet surprisingly harmonious, like a forest after a rainstorm.” Laurent didn’t hold back his praise. I smiled faintly and responded in fluent French. “You’re too kind. This is a personal fragrance I formulated myself. I call it Ashes.” “Ashes?” A flash of surprise crossed Laurent’s eyes. “A very fitting name. After everything burns away, what remains is the purest essence. Miss Natalie, your talent is astonishing. I’m currently setting up a perfume laboratory in Grasse, France. Would you be interested in joining my team?” This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the holy grail every perfumer dreamed of. Without the slightest hesitation, I smiled and extended my hand. “I’d be delighted.” Damian suddenly strode over, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me to his side, his eyes coldly sweeping over Laurent. “Sorry, my wife can’t hold her liquor. I need to take her away now.” Without regard for my struggles, he forcibly pulled me out of the banquet hall. “What are you doing? Let go!” He was gripping my wrist so hard it hurt. I snapped at him coldly. Damian shoved me against the corridor wall, hands planted on either side of me, his eyes dark. “Natalie, have you no shame? Flirting with another man on the terrace right in front of me?” I found this absurd. “We were discussing perfume, talking about work. Damian, do you think everyone is like you, with nothing but filthy thoughts in their head?” “Does talking about work require smiling so happily?” Damian said through gritted teeth. Just as we were at an impasse, a cry came from the end of the corridor. “Something’s wrong! Miss Serena has fainted!” Damian’s body stiffened. Almost reflexively, he released me and ran toward the voice. I leaned against the cold wall, watching the man’s unhesitating departure, and looked down at my reddened wrist. Damian, your possessiveness is disgustingly cheap.

Natalie’s POV Serena’s “fainting” was just a case of low blood sugar, yet Damian treated it like a crisis, not only rushing her to a private hospital overnight but also staying by her side for two whole days. I didn’t ask a single question, because I was busy handling the transfer of the aromatherapy shop. The shop had found a suitable buyer, and the price negotiations went smoothly. Today was my last time at the shop to pack my personal belongings. On the shelves were many rare essential oils and antique perfume bottles I had collected. The most precious was a small bottle of ultra-pure Bulgarian rose absolute. A legacy from my late professor. Worth a fortune. And more than that, my spiritual anchor. I carefully packed it into a shock-proof box. The wind chimes on the shop door suddenly rang. I looked up to see Serena, wearing sunglasses and a mask, walk in surrounded by a group of bodyguards. “Natalie, so you’re here.” Serena removed her sunglasses and surveyed the aromatherapy shop, a flash of undisguised jealousy in her eyes. “Can I help you?” I didn’t stop what I was doing, my tone indifferent. “Damian said he’s been having insomnia lately. I want to personally pick out a calming aromatherapy for him.” Serena walked to the shelf and casually picked up a bottle of essential oil to examine. “Natalie, you won’t mind me choosing something from your shop to give him, will you?” “Pick whatever you want. Pay at the counter when you’re done.” I didn’t even look up. Serena’s gaze scanned around the shop and finally landed on the exquisite shock-proof box beside me. “What’s this? It’s packaged so nicely, it must be something special, right?” Serena suddenly reached out and grabbed the box. “Don’t touch it!” I shouted sharply. But it was too late. Serena deliberately let it slip. “Oops,” she said, and the box crashed heavily onto the hard marble floor. The crisp sound of shattering glass was especially piercing in the quiet shop. The rich, pure scent of roses instantly permeated the air. It was my professor’s life’s work, my most treasured possession, now reduced to a sticky mess of shards on the floor. I froze in place, my mind blank for a moment. Looking at the fragments, my hands trembled uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Serena put on a panicked expression, her eyes instantly reddening. “Natalie, please don’t be angry. I’ll pay you back however much it costs…” Just then, Damian strode into the shop. As soon as he entered, he saw Serena with red-rimmed eyes standing to one side while I stared at the broken glass on the floor, the atmosphere tense. “What happened?” Damian pulled Serena into his arms, frowning. “Damian, I accidentally broke something of Natalie’s. She seems really angry…” Serena leaned into his embrace pitifully, tears falling on cue. Damian glanced at the glass shards on the floor and looked at me impatiently. “It’s just a perfume bottle. Serena didn’t do it on purpose. Do you really need to look like you want to kill someone?” I slowly raised my head, looking at this man I’d shared a bed with for three years. He didn’t even ask what she broke before rushing to take Serena’s side. “Just a perfume bottle?” I softly repeated his words. I didn’t scream hysterically, nor did I lunge at them like a shrew. I simply walked to the counter, took out an invoice, quickly wrote down a string of numbers, then walked up to Damian and slapped the invoice against his chest. “This is my professor’s rare legacy piece, with a market value of three million dollars, but to me, it’s priceless.” I said, “Since Serena says she’ll compensate, then please settle the bill for her, Mr. Harrison. Three million dollars. Not a penny less.” Damian froze. “Natalie, are you insane? How could something in this dump be worth three million? You’re extorting me!” Damian said through clenched teeth. “You can choose not to pay. I’ll call the police right now and check the security footage.” I held up my phone, unyielding. Damian looked at me, his chest heaving violently. He suddenly pulled out his checkbook, scrawled three million on it, and slammed it on the table. “Natalie, you’ve really fallen into the money pit! I was so wrong about you!” With that, he pulled Serena away and left the aromatherapy shop without looking back. I stood there, looking at the three-million-dollar check. I crouched down and picked up the glass shards soaked in essential oil with my bare hands, piece by piece. The sharp edges cut my fingers, blood mixing with the scent of roses dripping onto the floor. I didn’t cry. Because this three million was exactly enough to cover the admission fee for the Grasse laboratory. Damian, this debt between us. We’re even.

Natalie’s POV The shop transfer procedures were completed within three days. Watching the sign being taken down from the storefront, I felt little attachment. I cashed the check, transferred it to the French laboratory’s account, and booked a one-way ticket to Paris for two weeks later. Damian knew nothing about any of this. I heard he’d been busy helping Serena launch a new lifestyle brand, leaving early and returning late, rarely even coming home. Until one night, late, Damian returned to the villa. He irritably loosened his tie and pushed open the bedroom door. I was sitting at the desk, writing intently under a small lamp. Hearing the sound, I didn’t look up. Damian walked behind me, suppressing the anger in his heart, and said in a low voice. “I have a terrible headache. Go make me a bottle of that sleep-aid oil like before.” “There isn’t any.” My tone was flat, my pen never pausing. “If there isn’t any, then make some! You have all those materials in your shop. Can’t you even make one bottle of essential oil?” Damian’s tone grew heavier, carrying the commanding tone of someone in authority. I stopped writing and turned to look at him. “I’m out of materials, and the shop is closed. If Mr. Harrison is really having insomnia, you can go to the hospital for sleeping pills.” Damian froze, his brow instantly knotting into a tight frown. “The shop is closed? When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?” “No need to.” I turned back and continued organizing my materials. Damian suddenly reached out and slammed my notebook shut, forcing me to look at him. “Natalie, what exactly are you throwing a tantrum about? Is it because Serena broke your thing, or because I haven’t been spending time with you? You weren’t like this before. Why have you become so unreasonable?” “Unreasonable?” I laughed lightly. “Damian, in your eyes, as long as I don’t go along with what you and Serena want, I’m being unreasonable, right?” He took a deep breath, trying to soften his tone. “Fine, I won’t argue with you. Serena’s brand is launching next week, but the signature fragrance she’s been working on isn’t quite right. You’re a professional. Tomorrow, bring out your formula book and help her adjust it. Consider it a favor to me.” I looked at him, feeling like I was watching an utterly absurd joke. He actually wanted me to hand over my life’s work to the woman who destroyed my professor’s legacy? “Impossible.” I refused flatly. “Natalie!” Damian’s patience completely ran out. “Can you stop being so selfish? Serena’s depression is just starting to improve. This brand is very important to her! You’re just sharing one formula. What’s the big deal?” “Since it’s no big deal, let her formulate it herself.” I stood up, looking directly into his angry eyes. “Damian, I’d rather destroy my work, throw it away, than let Serena use even a drop of it.” Damian laughed bitterly, his eyes cold. “Fine, very good. Natalie, don’t forget. When you opened that shabby shop, Harrison Group invested money too. If you won’t help, I’ll immediately withdraw the investment and make sure your shop can never open in this city again!” He thought this threat would be enough to make me comply. After all, that was my life’s work. I just looked at him calmly and smiled. “Do whatever you want.” After saying that, I walked past him straight into the bathroom. Damian stood frozen in place, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked. What he didn’t know was that the shop no longer belonged to me. The leverage he used to threaten me was nothing but a ridiculous empty shell.

Natalie’s POV A week later, Serena’s personal lifestyle brand “Serena’s Time” held a grand launch event at the city’s most luxurious hotel. Not only did Damian personally appear in support, but he also mobilized all of Harrison Group’s PR resources to promote it for her. The core highlight of the launch was a custom fragrance called “First Love.” When the big screen displayed the composition and the top, heart, and base notes of this fragrance, I clenched my fists. Cedar, white tea, mixed with an extremely minute amount of bitter orange leaf. This was the competition piece I had spent half a year preparing for the International Perfumery Competition. “Rebirth.” The formula ratios were precise to the milligram. Besides myself, only one other person could have accessed my formula book. I stood up, pushed through the crowd, and walked straight to the VIP lounge backstage. The moment I opened the door, Damian was bent down adjusting Serena’s dress, the two looking at each other with smiles, a painfully warm scene. Hearing the noise, Damian looked up and saw me standing in the doorway, his brow instinctively furrowing. “What are you doing here?” I ignored him, walked straight to the table, picked up the bottle of “First Love” fragrance being used as a display piece, and looked at Serena. “Where did you steal this formula from?” Serena’s face went pale. She immediately hid behind Damian, her voice trembling. “Natalie, what are you saying? I formulated this myself…” “You formulated it yourself?” I pressed forward step by step. “What’s the extraction temperature for bitter orange leaf? What’s the fusion ratio of white tea and cedar? Can you tell me?” “Enough!” Damian pushed me away and shielded the swaying Serena, shouting sharply. “Natalie, are you done with your madness!” I was pushed back two steps, my waist hitting the edge of the table, a sharp pain shooting through me. I stared straight at Damian. “You gave it to her, didn’t you? You went through my formula book.” Damian’s eyes flickered, but he quickly regained his cold, righteous composure. “So what if I did?” He admitted it, his tone even carrying a trace of condescending arrogance. “Serena’s brand urgently needs a blockbuster product to break into the market. Your formula was perfect for it. You’re so talented. You can just formulate another one for the competition. But Serena can’t. She needs this success to build confidence and overcome her depression.” A roar echoed in my ears. My world completely collapsed. The man before me was terrifyingly unfamiliar. In Damian’s eyes, my life’s work, my dreams, all those sleepless nights. They meant nothing next to Serena’s so-called “confidence.” My talent had become a cheap gift he used to please another woman. “Damian, that was my competition entry,” I said softly. “In the perfumery world, stealing someone’s formula can ruin your career.” “As long as you don’t say anything, no one will know.” Damian adjusted his cuffs dismissively. “As compensation, Harrison Group will transfer five million to your account. This matter ends here.” Five million. He bought out my life’s work, and with it, the last shred of my feelings for him. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I just quietly looked at Damian, for a long time. “Fine.” I nodded gently. I carefully placed the fragrance bottle on the table and turned toward the door. As my hand gripped the doorknob, I stopped but didn’t turn around. “Damian, the formula is yours to give. I wish you both eternal happiness.” The door closed softly. There were three days left until I left. The atmosphere in the villa became eerily quiet. I sat on the living room carpet, organizing several small cardboard boxes. “What are you packing?” Damian walked over. “Some old things I don’t need anymore. I’m planning to donate them.” I didn’t even look up, placing some old books into a box. Damian didn’t think much of it. He sat down beside me, pulled out a velvet jewelry box from his pocket, and placed it in front of me. “Open it and see.” His tone carried a hint of expectation. I stopped what I was doing and looked at the ring inside the box, sparkling with brilliant light from a pink diamond. Very beautiful, very expensive. But I only found it ironic. He shattered my life’s work, trampled on my dignity, then tried to buy me off with a stone. This was Damian’s love. “Thank you, it’s beautiful.” I didn’t refuse. I took the jewelry box and casually placed it on the table beside me without trying it on. Damian’s brow furrowed. He was getting irritated. “You don’t like it?” “I like it.” I gave a perfunctory response and continued organizing the box. Damian grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him, trying to kiss my lips. “Natalie, it’s been so long since we…” His voice was low and husky, carrying a hint of suggestion. I turned my head away, avoiding his touch. “I’m very tired today. I don’t want to.” My rejection was undisguised.Damian’s hand froze in mid-air, his expression instantly darkening. He stared at me for a long moment, then finally let out a cold laugh and stood up. “Fine, I won’t force you. Tomorrow is your birthday. I’ve reserved a table at the rooftop restaurant. Seven o’clock in the evening. Don’t be late.” With that, he turned and strode upstairs, his back radiating suppressed anger. I watched him go, my gaze returning to the cardboard box filled with “old items.” Inside wasn’t old books at all, but everything Damian had given me over the past three years. Including the wedding album that had been flipped through countless times. I tossed the pink diamond jewelry box in as well and sealed it with tape. Tomorrow was my birthday, and also the day I flew to Paris. Damian, you’re destined to wait in vain for this birthday dinner. The next day, at the international airport departure hall. I sat by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking at my phone screen. I calmly powered it off, removed the SIM card, and tossed it into a nearby trash bin. “Attention passengers traveling to Paris, flight AF112 is now boarding…” A gentle female voice came through the speakers. I stood up and pulled my single small suitcase. Without looking back at this city I’d lived in for three years, I strode toward the boarding gate.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “407140”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I grew up with Muniz, but I’ve always maintained boundaries. Every time he got into a relationship, I’d cut off contact on my own. On his twenty-seventh birthday, he suddenly said to me, “Tucker, why don’t we just settle for each other? I’m serious.” It was the first time Muniz crossed the line and reached out his hand to me. I looked at him and thought for a few seconds. “Muniz, if we become a couple and then break up, I won’t be friends with you anymore.” He laughed carelessly. “We won’t break up. I can’t bear to lose you.” So I took his outstretched hand. This “settling” lasted three years. At the engagement party, Muniz was hiding on the balcony with a friend, smoking. “Muniz, back then you were afraid your grandfather would go after Scott, so you asked Tucker to be a cover for her. But from what I saw today, Tucker seems genuinely sincere.” “Don’t tell me you never told Tucker this was all an act?” The hazy smoke obscured Muniz’s face. His voice was cold and calm. “I was too rushed that day. I forgot.” My footsteps stopped at the corner. I was still holding the cold medicine I’d brought for Muniz. Ramon’s voice shot up in shock. He cursed Muniz, calling him a bastard, then leaned in to ask more. “So what’s the situation between you and Tucker now? Real marriage or fake marriage?” “I saw Scott post on Ins yesterday—you spent the night before your engagement at her place.” Muniz laughed. “Scott is my girlfriend, of course.” “As for Tucker, she’s just a marriage alliance partner. What’s the difference between real or fake marriage?” “I could tell ages ago that she likes me. Giving her a happy marriage and a title isn’t exactly treating her badly.” The glass in my hand burned so hot it hurt my palm. I looked down awkwardly and realized the cold medicine I’d brought for Muniz had already melted in my hand. Even hotter was my face—the humiliation of having my secret crush exposed and mocked. “You know what? Tucker is actually pretty stupid. I’ve been playing the field for years. Who holds hands with a marriage alliance partner and gets breathless and can’t make eye contact?” “She always pretends to be cool and indifferent, but she’s actually super patient and really indulgent with me.” Muniz coughed softly twice, then bragged. “Two days before the engagement, I lied and told her I had an emergency business trip. She didn’t even suspect me. She even helped me pack.” “Last night, Scott and I got a little wild by the window. When I came home at dawn with a headache, the medicine at home had expired.” “She went out in the middle of the night in her pajamas with a down jacket over them to buy medicine, then coaxed me into taking it before going to sleep.” “Every half hour or so, she’d get up to feel my forehead, afraid I’d get a fever.” “She probably doesn’t even know how much she likes me.” Ramon hissed through his teeth. “Muniz, Tucker’s been so good to you all these years. You’re telling me you’re not even a little bit moved?” I stood outside the door feeling like a joke, my eyes stinging uncontrollably. But I still didn’t leave. I wanted to hear Muniz’s answer. Muniz didn’t hesitate for a second. His tone was mocking. “What a stupid question. Of course I don’t like her.” “Tucker and I have known each other for thirty years. If we were going to be together, we would’ve gotten together ages ago. Why would I wait until I was twenty-seven?” “I like the wild but innocent type. She’s cold and hard—completely doesn’t fit my dating criteria.” “Love is about that instant spark. I don’t believe in growing feelings over time. Even if another thirty years passed, I still wouldn’t like her.” He took another deep drag, completely self-righteous. “But Tucker is my friend for life. She’ll be my family in the future. Even if I don’t love her, I definitely won’t treat her badly.” “I want both her and Scott.” My heart ached, yet I couldn’t help wanting to laugh. What did Muniz think I was—some object for him to pick up and put down at will? Take it when he wants it, toss it aside when he doesn’t. How pathetic must I be for him to think that marrying me was some kind of favor to me? On the rooftop, Ramon sighed and patted Muniz’s shoulder. “Let’s go, Muniz. The party’s about to start.” “Scott’s pretending to be my cousin tonight, right?” I turned and went downstairs first, rushing into the bathroom to dry heave. Tears fell faster than I could wipe them, ruining my carefully applied makeup. All these years of feelings were like a rancid swamp that suddenly submerged me, making me feel suffocated and disgusted. My phone kept dinging with group messages. [Engagement party! Where are our bride and groom?] [Muniz and I will be right there. My cousin is coming tonight too.] [Since when do you have a cousin? Where’s Tucker? Not a peep from her.] I found an empty room, washed my face clean, and reapplied light makeup. All these years, every time Muniz got into a relationship, I’d cut off contact. I wanted to see what Muniz’s sweetheart actually looked like. I used a cotton swab to wipe away tears that had fallen from the corner of my eye without me noticing, to keep from ruining my foundation. Muniz probably thought that when I said we wouldn’t be friends after breaking up, I was joking with him. But I, Tucker, have never lacked friends. And I don’t want to keep company with someone who doesn’t love me anymore.

“Tucker, what took you so long?” As soon as I sat down, Muniz started whining and acting cute with me. “I haven’t taken my medicine tonight yet. My cough seems even worse.” He blinked his eyes and nuzzled his face against my shoulder. Not a trace of the cold, unfeeling person from the rooftop moments ago. Friends nearby started teasing. “What are you doing! Take your PDA outside!” “These two are disgustingly clingy all day! If I didn’t think they were perfect for each other—and couldn’t beat them up—I would’ve kicked them out of the group chat ages ago!” “This is what we call true love prevailing! Childhood sweethearts, a match made in heaven!” “Muniz fooled around for twenty-some years and now he’s totally whipped by our Tucker. Makes even me believe in love.” The sticky residue from the melted pill coating still lingered on my palm. Suppressing my disgust, I smiled faintly. I leaned forward slightly to reach for the sparkling wine at the corner of the table, also avoiding Muniz. “Where’s Ramon?” Muniz was about to lean in again, but when he heard me ask about Ramon, he froze. “He went to pick up a friend! Oh, there they are now.” Ramon and a thin girl in a white dress sat down one after the other, keeping half a meter between them. “You’re one lucky guy. Your friend is so pretty—why don’t you introduce her to us?” A friend joked. Ramon glanced at Muniz awkwardly and replied. “This is my friend, Scott.” Amid the lively laughter, I looked at Scott, and she looked at Muniz with glistening eyes. The person who had been constantly sidling up to me moments ago now subtly pulled away, leaning against the sofa beside him. That dull pain surged up again. No matter how hard I tried to control it, I couldn’t suppress the sadness and anger rising in my heart. Scott hadn’t learned to restrain herself. Or maybe, as the one being loved, she had the right to be arrogant. Her gaze lingered on Muniz almost brazenly. My friend Barbara noticed I was unhappy and laughed directly. “Scott, the guy you’re staring at is off-limits. He’s about to get married.” Scott’s face immediately turned red. She looked away, laughing somewhat awkwardly. “Sorry, I have a boyfriend.” Muniz still had a smile on his face, but his tone was sharp as he defended her. “Barbara, you like to play around, but not everyone is like you.” Barbara’s temper flared. She stood up to smack Muniz. I held her back and smiled at Muniz. “You talk like you’re so faithful. Barbara has never two-timed anyone.” Muniz froze. He instinctively avoided my gaze, then forced a calm smile. “I haven’t either. Why are you getting mad at me?” Seeing my obviously unhappy face, Muniz picked up a drink and downed it. “I spoke wrong. I apologize to Barbara. Let’s move on.” Amid everyone’s laughter and conversation, I saw Scott looking at Muniz with eyes full of heartache. As if I were some terrible villain tormenting this poor little couple. “Alright, alright, let’s play a game. How about spin the bottle photo album?” Ramon stepped in to smooth things over. “If you’ve got anything you can’t show, hide it now. Don’t scare everyone.” “I’ll pick a date first.” “May 17, 2023!” Everyone pulled out their phones. Whoever the bottle pointed to had to open their photo album to the corresponding date and show everyone what they did that day. The bottle’s mouth stopped right in front of me on the first spin. My phone screen was shared to the big screen. Ocean waves, beach, candlelit dinner, and a screenshot of a delivery locker number. “That’s from your birthday that year! You two went to the beach together for vacation!” Barbara teased, pushing my shoulder and lowering her voice. “I even asked you if sleeping with a man felt amazing.” I smiled at Barbara. What was once beautiful now tasted only bitter. A sharp-eyed friend pointed at the screen and asked Muniz. “You two ordered delivery at 2 AM?” “What kind of delivery, Muniz? Don’t tell me it was condoms!” All our friends burst into laughter. Muniz, who usually played along, couldn’t laugh this time. He looked at Scott, whose face had gone pale. “No, just some cold medicine. Don’t talk nonsense.” Malice suddenly surged from my heart. “Wasn’t buying medicine that day because you hurt me?” I smiled gently, tearing open my own wound just to disgust them. “You were too rough. I don’t know what you were so excited about. That dress was expensive—I’d only worn it once.” “Muniz, you acted like you’d never slept with anyone before. Your technique was terrible.” “Did the Scotts you liked before never let you touch them?” Amid everyone’s teasing and joking, I saw Scott bow her head and wipe away tears. I saw Muniz looking displeased yet forcibly holding back his frustration. I was clearly laughing from the satisfaction, yet my chest felt so stuffy and my nose so sore. “Next one!” Ramon wiped the sweat from his forehead and spun the bottle again. The mouth pointed at Scott. She forced a fragile smile. “There’s nothing interesting in my album.” Barbara looked at me, then at her, frowning perceptively. “Scott, if you can’t handle the game, don’t join in.” Muniz frowned. Before he could speak, I grabbed his hand first. I leaned close to his face, tinged with anger. From the side, it probably looked like we were kissing. “I’m a little hungry. Can you go order some food for me?” Muniz paused for a few seconds, then stood up and went to the private room attendant to get the iPad for ordering. “I can handle it.” I knew Scott had seen my interaction with him. I heard the gritted teeth in her voice. She glared at me through tears. This was the first time tonight she made eye contact with me, with desperate determination and unconcealed hatred. Her phone was projected onto the big screen. The first image was a chat screenshot. A nosy friend read aloud. “Did you sleep with her? You said it was just a marriage alliance. You promised me you wouldn’t touch her!” “But I was thinking about you the whole time, Scott.”

“I want fries, Tucker!” A friend calling me to order ended on the same note as the last line in the chat. The atmosphere in the private room suddenly went quiet for a few seconds. I finished ordering and handed it to the attendant. I put my trembling hands under the table and smiled. “What a coincidence.” “But from what I’m hearing, Miss Scott sounds like a mistress.” “Tucker!” Muniz suddenly called out. Meeting my calm eyes, he forced an ugly smile. “Tucker, don’t talk to others so rudely.” Before I could answer, Scott suddenly raised her voice. “I’m not a mistress.” She looked at Muniz, full of defiance. “My boyfriend and I are each other’s first love. We gave each other our first kisses, our first times.” “It’s just that his family is too stubborn and won’t approve of us being together. Otherwise we wouldn’t have separated!” “He and his girlfriend are just in an open marriage alliance. His girlfriend has a one-sided crush on him. His parents forced them together.” Scott vented her emotions freely, swiping through screens. “The day before May 17, we celebrated his birthday together.” “His flight was at 11 PM, but he dragged it out until 9 before heading to the airport. He almost missed his flight.” “Before leaving, he bought me flowers. We ate cake together and made love for a long time.” “This is the birthday gift he gave me. I just looked at it once on his phone, and he took a photo and gave it to me.” It was a brilliant aquamarine ring. “He said he’d only ever buy a ring for me in this lifetime.” I was somewhat stunned. I was at that auction too. I also wanted that ring, but some stranger bid on it directly. Muniz consoled me at the time, saying he’d buy me an even more beautiful one. But now we were already engaged. I touched my bare fingers and suddenly realized Muniz had never bought me a ring. Scott scrolled back to the 17th. I saw in the sliding screenshots. Even though he was by my side, Muniz had been sweet-talking her from morning till night. Those beautiful sceneries—she had a share of them too. Beautiful travel jewelry—Muniz had them all noted in his memos, saying the packages were on the way. And there was a photo of a cake. In the shadow, I saw my own clothes and half my chin. I saw myself with hands clasped together, eyes closed, making a wish to always be with the person I loved. At that moment, he was beside me, typing to Scott. “This cake is delicious. I’ll buy it for you to try next time.”

So disgusting. I pressed down on Barbara’s leg. From the moment she saw that photo, she’d grabbed the wine bottle. “Tucker, that’s… that’s!” “Don’t rush.” I smiled at Barbara. Her eyes were flashing with tears from anger as she cursed incoherently about idiots and bitches. The atmosphere in the private room suddenly fell into suffocating silence. “Is Miss Scott finished? Then next round.” I calmly spun the bottle on the table again. “I want to choose April 2, 2025.” “Want to play together?” Muniz lost his composure for the first time tonight. He suddenly put his arm around my shoulder. “Tucker, my head hurts a bit.” “I just remembered I took antibiotics tonight. I can’t drink.” “Let’s go to the hospital, okay?” I removed his hand bit by bit and smiled. “No.” I opened my phone first. The screen showed the pale walls of a hospital room. Post-miscarriage care instructions photos. Medical advice in my notes. A chat screenshot I’d sent to my mom. [The doctor said I might never be able to have children again.] [Mom, they still haven’t found the hit-and-run driver.] [Let’s postpone the marriage registration.] April 2, 2025, was the fifth day after the accident. On the day Muniz and I were supposed to register our marriage. A woman suddenly rushed in front of our car. There was still some distance—emergency braking could have worked. Muniz had even raced cars before. But he was so nervous at that moment that he jerked the steering wheel hard. The entire passenger side crashed into the guardrail beside us. The child who had just begun to have a heartbeat was gone. I was severely injured and lay in the ICU for three days. When I woke up, I saw Muniz kneeling by the hospital bed, having lost a lot of weight. He said he could do without children, but no matter what, he had to spend this lifetime with me. “Let’s not look anymore, Tucker.” At this moment, Muniz gripped my hand, his eyes full of undisguised panic. “I really don’t feel well. Let’s go, okay?” Scott hesitantly tried to put away her phone, but Barbara snatched it first. She viciously scrolled to that day. It was a photo of Scott posing in lingerie in front of a mirror. And a video with a shaky camera pointed at a messy, filthy floor. Amid chaotic panting, I heard Scott crying. “Didn’t you say you hated me, that you never wanted to see me again for the rest of your life? Why did you come?” She was pressed down and kissed. “I really want to destroy you!” The man gritted his teeth, then comforted her in a hoarse voice. “Scott, that was my child. Do you know she might never be able to get pregnant again?” “I can give birth for you!” Scott’s voice sounded so aggrieved. “If you want to compensate her, just give her our child.” Muniz seemed to sigh. “I love you so much. How could I bear for you to lose a child?” “Just consider it… something she and I owe you.” I finished watching this farce, drank the last sip of wine, and set down my glass. As if also setting down thirty years of entanglement. “Muniz, let’s break up.”

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On our third wedding anniversary, Ethan handed me a divorce agreement, his eyes slightly red as he gripped my hand. “Samantha, I got an invitation to a top New York socialite’s banquet. She promised me the vice president position.” His voice was gentle yet cruel. “You’ll spend your whole life stuck in this run-down gallery, and our children would just be ordinary people. For our next generation’s social advancement, I have to choose someone better. You’re so kind—you can understand that, right?” I looked at his guilt-ridden, affectionate expression and signed without hesitation. After all, everyone climbs upward. Nothing wrong with that. He just didn’t know that the New York socialite he’d worked so hard to please was actually my personal assistant whom I’d hired to test him. And that banquet for elite society’s upper crust—it was a welcome party being held for me, the true heiress. “I’ve signed it, Ethan.” I pushed the divorce agreement back across to him. My crisp signature stood out starkly against the white paper. Ethan looked down at my name on the document, his brows furrowing slightly. He clearly hadn’t expected me to agree so readily. In his imagination, I should have been crying, making a scene, threatening suicide, clinging desperately to his leg and begging him not to leave. But he quickly adjusted his expression, putting back on that deeply affectionate yet helpless look—as if he were sacrificing himself for the greater good. “Don’t blame me, Samantha.” He sighed, reaching out to take my hand, his tone dripping with condescending generosity. “I know you’re upset, but this is just facing reality. We can’t spend our whole lives stuck in this shabby gallery. You’re so kind—surely you can understand my difficult position, right?” I leaned back in my chair, avoiding his touch. Ethan’s hand froze mid-air, then awkwardly retreated. He straightened the cuffs of his three-hundred-thousand-dollar custom suit. “The resources Winona can give me are things you could never access painting for a lifetime. I’m a man. I need a career. She’s already gotten an invitation to tonight’s elite New York banquet. After tonight, I’ll be vice president of John Corporation.” The Winona he mentioned was supposedly a top New York socialite, Winona Lynn. She was also my personal assistant, Nina Lynn, whom I paid fifty thousand dollars a month. Looking at this face I’d once found gentle and refined, I found it utterly ridiculous. “You’re right. People should climb upward.” I picked up the glass of cold water on the table and took a sip, looking at him calmly. “Since you’ve found a better ladder, of course I won’t stop you.” Ethan looked at my expressionless face, irritation flashing in his eyes. He probably thought my composure was an act, a ploy for his sympathy. “You don’t have to pretend to be strong in front of me.” He pulled a bank card from his briefcase and pushed it toward me, sounding more and more like a charitable benefactor. “There’s a hundred thousand dollars on this card. Consider it my compensation to you. The gallery’s rent is due next month. Take this money and go back home to find a stable job. Stop suffering here in New York.” A hundred thousand dollars. The custom suit he was wearing—I’d had it hand-made in Italy. The Patek Philippe on his wrist—I’d given it to him for his birthday last year. Worth two million dollars. And now he was offering me a hundred thousand to dismiss the wife who’d quietly served him for three years. “No need. Keep your money.” I didn’t touch the card. “After all, you’ll need to break into high society. Everything costs money there. A hundred thousand probably won’t even buy a single bottle of wine in their circles.” Ethan’s expression darkened. “Don’t be ungrateful, Samantha.” He lowered his voice, finally showing a hint of warning. “Take the money. From now on, we go our separate ways. Don’t go spreading nonsense to Winona. She’s innocent and kind—I don’t want you frightening her.” Just as he finished speaking, the gallery’s glass door was pushed open from outside. “Ethan, aren’t you done yet?” A sweet, cloying voice called out. Winona swayed in, acting like an arrogant heiress. The moment Ethan saw her, the gloom on his face vanished instantly. He rushed to greet her, his posture extremely humble. His tone was obsequious and flattering: “Winona, why did you come in person? This place is filthy—be careful not to dirty your limited edition shoes.” Winona removed her sunglasses and surveyed my gallery with disgust. “It really is a dump.” She walked up to me, looking down with undisguised contempt in her eyes. “So you’re Ethan’s ex-wife? You’re just average-looking. No wonder he chose me. These days, a pretty face isn’t enough—you need to bring value to your man.” I looked at this face I’d paid to hire, barely suppressing my laughter. Nina’s acting was definitely worth the fifty thousand a month. “Miss Lynn, is it?” I leaned back in my chair without standing. “You’ve got the man. I’ve signed the papers. The door’s that way. I won’t see you out.” Winona sneered. “Quite the attitude. Ethan, I don’t like how arrogant she’s being.” Ethan immediately turned around, frowning at me with apparent anguish. “Samantha, watch your attitude. Winona is a real heiress. Don’t take out your lower-class resentment on her. Apologize to Winona right now.” “You want me to apologize to her?” I looked at him coldly. “Ethan, this is my gallery. Tell your fiancée to shut her privileged mouth.” Ethan took a deep breath, as if trying hard to control his anger. He didn’t explode. Instead, he shook his head, looking at me like I was a hopeless idiot. “You’re such a disappointment, Samantha. I wanted to leave you with some dignity, but since you’re so ungrateful, suit yourself.” He turned around and protectively put his arm around Winona. “Winona, let’s go. Don’t let this kind of person ruin your mood before John Corporation’s banquet.” Watching their intertwined figures leave, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to Mr. Kane. “How are the banquet preparations coming?” He replied instantly: “Miss, everything is ready. We’re just waiting for you.” I locked my screen and looked out the window. Ethan, you think you’ve climbed to a high branch. You don’t know it’s just a deep pit I dug for your destruction.

The gallery fell quiet again. I picked up the divorce agreement from the table and casually tossed it into the nearby trash can. Ethan thought he had me figured out. He assumed that without him, I could only slink back home in disgrace. After all, for the past three years, to play the role of a gentle, considerate ordinary wife, I’d worn cheap clothes from Amazon every day, tied on an apron in the kitchen to make him soup, and even rented this storefront to run a gallery so I wouldn’t seem too idle. I’d disguised everything perfectly. Before I could collect myself, the screech of brakes sounded outside. Ethan had returned. This time without Winona, but followed by several uniformed movers. He maintained that suited, superior elite demeanor, one hand in his pocket, his tone coldly issuing orders. “Clear out all the unnecessary stuff in here. Be careful—don’t scratch the walls.” I frowned and stood up. “What the hell are you doing, Ethan?” Ethan pulled a rental contract from his briefcase and placed it lightly on the table, his expression as detached as if handling an insignificant business matter. “Face reality, Samantha. When we rented this place, we used my ID. The contract has my name on it. Now I’m taking back this space.” I looked at the contract. Back then, I’d let him sign it because I didn’t want the hassle of exposing the John family’s assets. But I’d paid ten years of rent upfront. “I paid the rent,” I stated coldly. Ethan looked like he’d heard a joke, smirking helplessly. “You can’t sell two paintings a month. Where would you get money for rent? It was all scraped together from the household money I gave you every month, wasn’t it?” He adjusted his perfect tie. His tone was dismissive: “Winona thinks the lighting in this location is nice. She’s planning to convert it into her private walk-in closet. Samantha, stop making a scene. Leave with some dignity—it’s better for both of us.” He waved his hand, and the movers immediately came forward to carry out my easels and paintings. “Careful there.” Ethan pointed at an oil painting on the wall that had taken me two months to complete. He told the workers, “Throw this junk straight into the garbage truck. Don’t pile it by the door where it’ll offend Winona’s eyes.” The workers roughly tore the painting down. The frame hit the floor, paint scattering everywhere. Ethan didn’t even glance at it, just stepped back in disgust, afraid the dust would dirty his custom leather shoes. I didn’t try to stop them. Arguing with a shallow person blinded by vanity would only lower my own worth. “Fine.” I nodded, picking up my canvas bag from the table, my expression utterly calm. “Ethan, this space is yours. I hope you enjoy tonight’s banquet as much as you’re enjoying this right now.” Ethan smiled slightly, thinking I was just venting impotent rage and jealousy. “Of course. Tonight I’ll meet John Corporation’s chairman directly. Once I get my vice president appointment letter, our worlds will be separated by an insurmountable wall. Take care of yourself.” I didn’t acknowledge him further, walking straight out of the gallery. The sunlight outside was blinding. I glanced back. Ethan stood in the wreckage, hands clasped behind his back like a nouveau riche surveying his territory, directing workers to throw away my heart’s work like garbage. I pulled out my phone and called Mr. Kane. “Look into Ethan’s current company.” I walked forward while speaking coldly. “Tell HR that by tomorrow morning, I want to see his termination notice and a massive claim for breach of non-compete agreement.” “Yes, Miss. Also…” Mr. Kane paused. “When we went to your rental apartment to pack your clothes, we discovered your Ocean Heart sapphire necklace was missing. The drawer showed signs of being pried open. Should we report it to the police?” I stopped walking and suddenly laughed coldly. “To buy all those luxury items for Nina to maintain appearances, Ethan probably maxed out all his cards and exhausted his loans, didn’t he? With nowhere else to turn, he thought to steal my cheap knockoff and give it as a gift.” “Don’t report it.” I got into the car waiting by the curb. “Let him wear it to the banquet. Stolen goods shine brightest under the spotlight. The higher he climbs, the more thoroughly he’ll be destroyed when he falls.”

By the time I returned to my suburban villa, it was getting dark. In the living room, over a dozen of New York’s top stylists and assistants had been waiting. When they saw me enter, they bowed in unison: “Miss.” I tossed my cheap canvas bag onto the sofa and sat down before the makeup mirror. “Let’s begin.” For the next two hours, I let them strip away three years of disguise as an ordinary housewife. As layers of French haute couture draped my body, as my casually pinned hair was styled into lazy, elegant waves, the downtrodden Samantha in the mirror disappeared. In her place stood the heiress of John Corporation with all her rightful brilliance. Mr. Kane approached carrying a velvet box. Inside lay a dazzling pink diamond necklace—my mother’s legacy. “Miss, it’s almost time.” At eight o’clock, an extended Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled smoothly up to the main entrance of the Peninsula Hotel. Tonight, John Corporation had reserved the entire Peninsula Hotel. Security was extremely tight. Countless luxury cars stopped before the red carpet. Everyone who stepped out was truly powerful and influential in New York. The car door was respectfully opened by the doorman. I lifted my gown, just extending one leg, when a familiar voice came from the edge of the crowd at the security perimeter. “Samantha?! How did you follow us here like some ghost?!” I looked toward the voice. Beyond the security line, Ethan was staring at me with wide eyes. He probably assumed this Rolls-Royce belonged to some dignitary, and I was shamelessly crashing the red carpet. Winona clung to his arm in a cheap rented gown, but around her neck hung the sapphire necklace pried from my drawer. Seeing I wasn’t responding, Ethan tried to push past the security line to show off in front of Winona, lowering his voice to scold me: “I’m warning you—this isn’t a place for trash like you to make a scene! Get lost right now before you embarrass yourself!” Winona deliberately thrust out her chest, flaunting the stolen goods around her neck, covering her mouth with a coy laugh: “Ethan, your ex-wife is so pathetic. Where did she rent that knockoff gown from? Is she here to find a sugar daddy? Too bad—not even a fly can get through that door.” I looked coldly at the necklace around Winona’s neck, my gaze penetrating: “That necklace—comfortable to wear?” Winona smugly touched her neck. “Of course it’s comfortable. Ethan specially bought this for me. It cost hundreds of thousands! A poor woman like you has probably never even seen the real thing, right?” Ethan averted his eyes somewhat guiltily, his gaze shifty. He knew exactly where that necklace came from, but he could never imagine that what he thought was a knockoff was actually worth ten million dollars. “Stop making trouble here, Samantha.” Ethan tried to cover his guilt with arrogance. “Winona’s necklace has nothing to do with you! I’m about to go in and meet Chairman John. If you anger the important people inside, you won’t even know how you died!” Just then, a low engine roar tore through the night. A black Maybach drove straight up beside the Rolls-Royce and stopped. The door opened, and a man in a custom suit with an intensely oppressive presence stepped out. The surrounding crowd immediately gasped in shock. “It’s the Payne family’s eldest son! New York’s crown prince, Caspian Payne!”

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My friend Lily sent me a photo. It was a screenshot of my husband checking into a love hotel in the city. She sent me a message teasing: “You and your husband sure know how to have fun. Going to a love hotel while pregnant? Be careful!” I stared at my phone blankly for a moment, then casually opened the SnapChat message my husband had sent me half an hour ago: [I have to go to New York on a business trip for a few days. Go to tomorrow’s prenatal checkup by yourself.] So I replied to Lily seriously: “The one getting a room with him is his mistress, not me.” Lily’s call came through quickly. “Are you sure? I’ll send you the location. Come over now. I have a room card.” I said no need. She sounded anxious: “Why aren’t you reacting at all?” I thought for a moment and said, “Help me send them something. Wish them a good time.” There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, then she agreed. After hanging up, I canceled my prenatal checkup appointment and confirmed the time for the abortion procedure. After finishing these tasks, I walked into the nursery. That room had been gradually cleared out after confirming the pregnancy. There wasn’t much, but everything was new. Ethan Wade had said the child was very important to him. At the time, he said it with such certainty. I had believed him once. I grabbed scissors and trash bags and began cutting up the brand-new clothes. When I made the first cut, I knew exactly what I was doing. I wouldn’t be needing these things anymore. The clothes, books, bottles—everything was quickly dealt with. I also pushed the baby stroller to the door and knocked it over. Half an hour later, the room was empty. I made several trips carrying everything down to the building’s trash station and threw it all away without hesitation. At ten o’clock that night, the door lock clicked. Ethan Wade had come home. He said he was out of town, but he’d suddenly changed his plans and come back. He saw me sitting in the living room, lifted his hand to glance at his watch, and frowned slightly: “Why aren’t you asleep yet at this hour? Your irregular sleep schedule will directly affect the fetus’s nervous system development. I shouldn’t have to teach you this basic knowledge, should I?” As he approached, I smelled a scent that didn’t belong to this house. It was some niche salon perfume mixed with the sickly sweetness of hotel body wash. I shifted to the side: “You smell different.” His hand paused while loosening his tie, then he tossed his jacket onto the sofa without changing expression: “That’s air freshener from a client’s car. Don’t be paranoid.” While unfastening his cufflinks, he walked straight toward the nursery: “By the way, did the custom baby bed I ordered arrive? Let me check the dimensions.” A few seconds later, his footsteps stopped abruptly. Dead silence. “Claire Smith.” His voice came from the nursery, carrying a cold edge. I walked over and saw him standing in the center of the room, his face dark enough to drip water. “Where are the things?” He turned around, glaring at me with a black expression. “Where’s the stroller I ordered and all the baby clothes I bought?” “I got rid of them,” I answered calmly. He narrowed his eyes and took a step closer to me. “Who gave you permission to get rid of them?” His tone was angry. “Are you so bored staying home all day that you have to cause trouble? You know how hard I work to support this family. Can’t you just give me less grief?” “The doctor suggested I shouldn’t prepare these things too early in the first trimester.” I looked him straight in the eye without changing expression. “I’d have anxiety reactions that could easily trigger false contractions.” “Anxiety?” Ethan Wade laughed coldly. “Claire, I think you’re too idle. Your hormones are out of balance and making you irrational.” “Other people are happy when they’re pregnant. Why do you have so many pretentious problems? You get anxious seeing baby things? Are you sick? Should you get treatment?” His fingers were ice cold, pinching me painfully. But I didn’t dodge. I just looked at him woodenly: “Better safe than sorry.” He frowned, seeming suspicious that my attitude was somehow different. Probably because he saw me calm down, or perhaps because he had a guilty conscience. In the end, he just dropped a line: “I’ll have someone buy everything again tomorrow. If you dare throw it away again, go see a psychiatrist.” After speaking, he didn’t look at me again and turned into the bathroom. Soon, the sound of rushing water came from inside. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I took it out. On the screen was a confirmation text from the hospital. [Ms. Smith, your appointment for pre-abortion examination has been confirmed.] I glanced at the tightly closed bathroom door, listening to the sound of water inside, and silently deleted the message.

The next day, Ethan Wade gave me a gift. He shoved the gift into my arms, his tone gentle: “I had a bad attitude last night, but I bought you some skincare products suitable for pregnant women.” I glanced at the bag. The opening was wrinkled, and the seal sticker had one corner peeling up. When I poured it out, there were several delicate little bottles, one of which had “NOT FOR SALE” printed on the bottom. This bag was clearly just the sample gift pack the salesgirl gives when you buy the full-size products. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?” Ethan Wade didn’t notice my reaction and kept talking: “I heard it works really well. Do you like it?” I lifted my head and smiled silently. “I like it.” I picked up the bottle marked “not for sale” and shook it in my hand: “I’ll use it well.” Ethan Wade breathed a sigh of relief, his face breaking into a smile again. He raised his hand to check his watch: “I have an early meeting today. Rest well at home.” He grabbed his jacket and left humming a tune. The smile on my face vanished instantly. I picked up the paper bag and threw it in the trash. After disposing of the garbage, I took a cab to the hospital. Because I had an appointment, the gynecology outpatient process went quickly. The doctor wrote me a prescription and told me to get an ultrasound to confirm the fetus’s size and position. I took the form and walked toward the ultrasound room. My phone suddenly vibrated. It was a SnapChat message from Ethan Wade. [I have a dinner meeting tonight. Won’t be home for dinner.] I had just put my phone back in my pocket when the door to the gynecology consultation room ahead opened. A familiar figure walked out—it was actually Sophia Reynolds and her best friend Morgan Clark. I deliberately turned my head away. They didn’t see me. Sophia Reynolds held a lab slip in her hand, radiating barely concealed smugness: “It’s just a routine checkup. Why are you so nervous…” Morgan Clark said enviously: “How can I not be nervous? Everyone knows Ethan Wade treasures you like the apple of his eye. Last time you just casually mentioned wanting to see the ocean, and Ethan Wade took you to the Maldives.” “When you had menstrual cramps, Ethan Wade pushed back an important meeting and spent the whole afternoon with you. That kind of treatment—even the legitimate wife probably doesn’t get it, right?” “And, and—Ethan Wade buys you luxury skincare products but gives Claire the free sample gift pack.” “He bought you that limited edition bag without a second thought.” Sophia Reynolds laughed lightly: “For some women, as long as their husband tosses them scraps from the table, they can convince themselves it’s some grand romantic gesture.” Morgan Clark laughed so hard she doubled over: “If I were her, I’d be so ashamed I’d jump off a building.” “That’s why people need self-awareness. What’s the use of holding onto a title? She’s living like more of a joke than something respectable.” I felt a chill shoot from the soles of my feet straight to the top of my head. Nausea overwhelmed anger. The lab slip in my hand was crushed into a ball, my nails digging deep into my palm. Only when the stabbing pain came did it barely pull back my nearly collapsing rationality. I took a deep breath, but couldn’t stop my trembling fingers. After watching them leave, I finally calmed down and turned toward the elevator in the opposite direction. Then I opened my phone and checked yesterday’s shipping information: [Your documents sent to the law firm have been signed for.]

The doctor prescribed pre-surgery medication and told me to rest well these days and wait for the surgery schedule. Back home, to distract myself, I went into the long-unused baking room. Before marriage, I had owned a dessert shop. After marriage, Ethan Wade hoped I could focus more energy on the family, so he had me close the shop and concentrate on preparing for pregnancy. I took out a bag of flour and began making desserts. The humming of the machine filled the space, and that familiar milky fragrance let me relax briefly. Two hours later, a half-finished frosted cake sat on the turntable. I was about to mix colors when there was suddenly movement at the entrance. Ethan Wade had returned, followed by two men in suits who looked like important business partners. While unbuttoning his suit jacket, Ethan Wade spoke in a gentle tone: “My home is quieter, suitable for discussing business.” I hadn’t had time to wash my hands yet. My apron was covered in flour, and I stood there somewhat disheveled. Our eyes met. The expression on Ethan Wade’s face instantly disappeared. His brow furrowed slightly, his gaze sweeping over my flour-covered apron and the half-finished cake. His words carried barbs: “How did you end up like this?” “I didn’t know you were bringing people home,” I instinctively hid my flour-covered hands behind my back. “Don’t you have any awareness?” His brow furrowed tightly, his tone full of impatience. “When you see guests, your first reaction should be to make yourself scarce, not stand here being an eyesore.” The two guests awkwardly tried to smooth things over: “It’s fine, it’s fine. Claire is so virtuous, even making cakes.” Ethan Wade didn’t respond. He couldn’t even spare me a perfunctory smile. He looked at me with cold eyes: “Have the housekeeper clean this up, then go back to your room so you don’t irritate me.” My heart felt like something had squeezed it hard, sending waves of dense pain. I bit my lip and turned to get the trash can. “Wait.” He stopped me, pointing at the cake. “Take that too.” “I just made this…” “Take it or throw it away.” He interrupted me, his tone cold. “Don’t leave it here embarrassing me.” I took a deep breath, my nails digging deep into my palm, using the pain to suppress the stinging in my eyes. I picked up the cake that hadn’t been decorated yet, and in front of him, let go. The cake fell into the trash can along with my dignity. Seeing this, Ethan Wade’s brow relaxed a bit, seemingly finally satisfied. He turned toward his guests and put on a smile, as if the coldness just now was only my illusion: “Sorry about that. She’s bored and messes around with nothing better to do.” Then they went to the study. The door closed, cutting off the cheerful conversation inside. I stood alone in the kitchen, looking at the ruined cake in the trash can. Tears finally couldn’t be held back, falling heavily onto the floor. I remembered that year we got married. On an afternoon just like this, he had held me and said, “Your cakes are the best in the whole world.” Now he couldn’t even be bothered to look, only finding them embarrassing. I squatted down and mechanically wiped the flour from the floor. As I wiped, I suddenly laughed. Laughing at my own foolishness, laughing at seven years of one-sided affection. I scrubbed the floor three times until there wasn’t a trace left.

The medication the doctor prescribed had severe side effects. These past two days I’d been lying in bed in a daze. And Ethan Wade always had various reasons not to be home. I knew that on the days he didn’t come home, he was with Sophia Reynolds. The next time I saw him was two days later. When he pushed the door open, I was hugging the trash can and dry heaving. All the medicine I’d just taken came back up. My stomach burned like fire. He asked how I was. I wiped my mouth and replied flatly: “I ate something too rich for dinner.” “You’re so pretentious. You’re pregnant and should be getting more nutrition. How can you not eat anything?” He sounded a bit impatient. I laughed coldly inside but didn’t bother explaining. Then he handed me an exquisite outfit. “There’s a charity gala tonight. Several partners will bring their spouses. Come with me.” I leaned weakly against the sofa: “I’m not feeling well. I can’t go.” Ethan Wade’s hand paused while unfastening his cufflinks. He turned to look at me. “It wouldn’t look good to be absent from this kind of occasion. I don’t want people thinking there are problems within my family.” “Just tough it out. Make an appearance and that’s it. You don’t have to socialize.” I didn’t argue further. Once he decided something, it never changed because of my suffering. I took the clothes and walked into the bedroom. After changing, Ethan Wade drove me to the reception. At the venue, Ethan Wade appeared composed and distinguished. He didn’t deliberately show off our relationship, just had me hold his arm. His cuff was ice cold, the stiff fabric pressing painfully against my palm, but I could only force a smile and cooperate with his performance. When people came over to chat, he would introduce me appropriately: “This is my wife, Claire.” When someone offered a toast, he would naturally step aside: “She’s not in a condition to drink. I’ll have this one for her.” His movements were smooth and flowing, his gentlemanly manner perfect. The business partner across from us immediately joked with a laugh: “Ethan Wade really dotes on his wife. No wonder your career is developing so well.” Ethan Wade smiled faintly, his eyes full of satisfied control, taking a sip of wine: “Just doing my duty.” Everything looked so perfect. After being seated, while talking quietly with the person next to him, he casually picked up a piece of fish and put it on my plate. “Try this.” He did it so casually, as if this kind of consideration was a habit ingrained in his bones. I looked at that piece of fish, my stomach cramping. He had probably forgotten that since becoming pregnant, I couldn’t stand even the slightest fishy smell. Every time I smelled it, it triggered severe morning sickness. “Excuse me.” I stood up abruptly, covering my mouth and rushing toward the restroom. Behind me came a ripple of subtle commotion, but I couldn’t care about that anymore. In the stall, I dry heaved for a while until tears streamed down. Only then did that overwhelming feeling gradually subside. I rinsed my mouth and splashed cold water on my face. Looking at my pale reflection in the mirror, I took a deep breath. Walking out of the restroom, Ethan Wade was standing by a window in the corridor waiting for me. He held a cigarette in his hand, his expression cold. Seeing me come out, he looked me up and down from a few steps away. “Are you composed now?” He stubbed out his cigarette, his tone lacking concern and more filled with displeasure at having his rhythm disrupted. “It’s only been a moment and you can’t even handle this kind of occasion? I don’t want people thinking I can’t even manage my own wife’s emotions.” Finished speaking, he put on a smile again and extended his arm toward me. “Let’s go. We haven’t greeted Mr. Anderson yet.” I looked at that outstretched arm, hesitated for two seconds, then took it. The moment my fingertips touched him, my heart went completely cold. By the time the gala ended, I was utterly exhausted. My lower abdomen ached faintly, as if something was draining away. Ethan Wade had drunk quite a bit and was leaning back in the seat somewhat excited, completely oblivious to the cold sweat seeping from my forehead. “Today Mr. Anderson even mentioned to me that once our child is born, the board will be more stable.” He closed his eyes, a smile on his lips, his hand unconsciously tapping on his knee. “When it’s time, we’ll throw a big birthday party for the child, right in tonight’s hall.” I turned to look at the speeding night scenery outside the window, my hand pressing hard against my stomach.

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On my wedding day, I unexpectedly slept through six hours. When I rushed over in a hurry, my fiancé Leo had already completed the entire ceremony with his first love. Looking at my sweaty face, Leo simply smiled and came clean. “I was the one who drugged you. Ares wanted a wedding—it’s no big deal, so I gave her one.” As if afraid I’d cause a scene, he hinted casually: “Just behave yourself. I’ll accompany you to get our marriage license next week, and making a fuss now won’t help anyway.” “Look, even the wedding dress wouldn’t fit you if she took it off.” My gaze calmly fell on the bride. That was the dress I’d spent nearly half a year selecting. Everyone instantly held their breath, expecting me to make a huge scene. But I was completely relieved instead. Well, he should’ve said so earlier—I’ve been regretting this too. My ex gave me a ten-carat diamond ring when he proposed. Now I don’t have to return it. I went straight home. When my neighbor saw me, her face was full of surprise. “Louise, why are you home? Isn’t today your wedding?” I’d been preparing for this wedding for so long that almost everyone knew about it. To the point where, being played for a fool at the last minute, I had no room to save face. Without stopping my motion of unlocking the door, I said with an unchanged expression, “Not getting married anymore. He was busy.” Busy giving his first love a wedding. A flash of pity crossed my neighbor’s face, and she tactfully didn’t press further. After closing the door, I rushed to the bathroom. As soon as I opened my mouth, I vomited violently. I didn’t stop until there was nothing left in my stomach, then collapsed weakly to the side. I have a moderate adverse reaction to sleeping pills. Leo knew this, but he still gave them to me. The fact that I woke up today means I was lucky. As I stood up to rinse my mouth, my phone suddenly buzzed with messages. It was a group chat that both Leo and I were in. “Leo’s the man! Did you see? Louise came and didn’t dare say a word.” “How did Leo train her? Louise is so obedient—she’s one in a million!” “Louise is an orphan, and Leo’s rich and powerful. What would she dare say!” They laughed together. Suddenly, someone asked: “Do you think Leo’s even coming home tonight?” The group replied quickly. “Are you stupid? Anyone with half a brain knows he won’t!” This was followed by a string of crude, suggestive jokes. But suddenly, Leo’s childhood friend said urgently: “You guys are really drunk! You sent this to the wrong group—Louise is in here! Delete it quick!” Everyone panicked, but most of the messages could no longer be recalled. Someone found it funny and leisurely added: “So what if she sees? You think she dares say anything?” I had no reaction. I got up and made myself a meal. As I finished the last bite, the door was suddenly pushed open. Leo came back reeking of alcohol. Seeing that I didn’t come forward to greet him like before, he chuckled softly. He walked over and pulled me into a loose embrace. “It’s just a wedding. Not a big deal.” Just publicly humiliated and ridiculed for everyone to know. “Yeah.” I stood up, picked up my plate, and slipped out of his embrace toward the kitchen. Leo followed me in. Something cold touched my neck. I looked down—it was a sapphire necklace. Still not my preferred style. It was Ares’ favorite type. “Thank you,” I said while washing dishes. Leo seemed relieved and leaned down toward me slowly. I raised my hand to stop him and put the plate in the cupboard. Then I smiled. “You forgot—I’m allergic to alcohol.” Leo’s brow furrowed. He stared at me quietly, wanting to say something. The next second, his phone rang. It was Ares. His expression immediately brightened. He answered and walked toward the study. Click—the door locked.

After wiping the water from my hands, my phone also rang. “Monday morning, I’ll take you to get the marriage license.” “Okay.” After replying concisely, I got up to pack in the bedroom. But in the closet, I found a piece of clothing that wasn’t mine. Sexy and alluring, just crumpled in a ball, as if stuffed in hastily. Looking closely, there were still dried stains on it. The door creaked open. Leo walked in. Meeting my reddened eyes, he instantly understood. He calmly took the clothing from my hand. “Johnson and the others probably left it when they brought their girlfriends over.” I kept my head down, my hands trembling slightly. Not from sadness, but from disgust. Leo clearly misunderstood. He raised his hand and affectionately patted my head. “Louise, do you know what I like most about you?” Without waiting for my answer, he said, “Obedient.” Over the years, I’d heard “obedient” countless times. Obedient, sensible, well-behaved. Like a cat, like a dog—just not like a person. “Ares is in the past. Giving her a wedding is just compensation. Don’t overthink it.” He patted my head like petting a dog. Just like when he chose to sponsor me years ago—a casual gesture. I was packaged up and brought to the city to study. But with one tear from Ares, I was pushed into a corner again. Left for those rich people to toy with me, casual and careless. Like a piece of trash, kicked around at will. “Alright, rest if you’re tired. Ares wants to remove her bridal manicure. I’m going with her.” Perhaps it was the accumulated pain of always losing. Perhaps it was that bit of unwillingness buried in my heart. I suddenly grabbed his wrist. “Can’t you stay?” Stay, even once, to prove I matter. But Leo just froze, looking somewhat helpless. “I promised her.” But he’d promised me countless times too. Promised to accompany me to the hospital for period pain treatment. Promised to accompany me to visit Grandma’s grave. Promised to celebrate my birthday with me, even once. Yet every promise fell through. “Oh, okay.” I let go of his hand, my tone resigned. For some reason, Leo grabbed my hand instead. His tone gentle: “When I get back, I’ll bring you your favorite taro cake.” But I hate desserts most of all. Tears flashed in my eyes. I smiled and said, “Thank you.” Leo didn’t come home all night. Ares updated her Twitter with a photo and caption. Very simple—a peace sign gesture. But I instantly understood. She posted it specifically for me to see. Just like when Leo casually abandoned me for her years ago. When I was locked in the bathroom and beaten on the ground until I couldn’t get up. The same gesture she made over my head. Provocative, insulting—a gesture that belonged uniquely to me. “Like a little rabbit, right?” People in the comments didn’t understand. “A moment of spring is worth a thousand gold—who cares about rabbits?” “Quick, tell us—is Leo wild in bed?” Ares replied quickly. “Wild. Incredibly wild!” I calmly swiped away and made an appointment at the hospital. My body had been breaking out in rashes since yesterday. Probably an allergic reaction to the sleeping pills. My neck was already scratched bloody. The doctor gave me an injection and sternly instructed: “You absolutely cannot take sleeping pills again. Your constitution can’t handle them.” “Got it.” After getting my medication, I turned to leave. In the lobby, I ran into Leo holding Ares’ hand. Seeing me, he froze for a moment, but still didn’t let go. “What happened to you?” “Allergies.” Leo nodded casually. He didn’t ask why or how severe it was, then sighed. “She moved around while removing her manicure and hurt her finger. I brought her to get it treated.” His tone was so concerned, as if Ares had suffered a serious injury. I looked down. The cut was barely visible and had already scabbed over. Ares snorted and pretended to be angry: “It’s all because you kept bothering me. Otherwise, would I have suffered like this?” Leo chuckled softly and good-naturedly apologized. “Fine, it’s all my fault.” Then he turned to me: “You go home first.” I nodded and walked out. I hadn’t gone far when Ares’ voice rang out again. “Look at her—rashes all over her face and neck. Make sure it’s not some contagious disease. You should have her get a full physical examination.” “She’s had one before.” “Before was before! I’m thinking of you—why aren’t you grateful!” Leo said lazily, “Fine, I’ll have her go tomorrow.” His tone casual, like arranging for a dog to see the vet.

After leaving the hospital, I went to store some luggage. When I got home, Leo was already back. Ares came forward and greeted me like the lady of the house. “Louise, we’re out of slippers. You can wear disposable ones.” I looked down. My slippers were on her feet. Leo had bought them for me. Because my feet are small, they’re only size 5. Ares’ heels were sticking out the back. They clearly didn’t fit anywhere, yet she deliberately wore them around in front of me, obviously trying to disgust me. I looked inside. Leo and his friends were playing video games, completely ignoring us. I didn’t say anything and bent down to put on disposable slippers. Walking into the entryway, a cold wind hit me. My rhinitis flared up and I sneezed three times in a row. The air conditioning had been turned from 77°F down to 64°F. This time Leo noticed. He took the remote from my hand. “Ares gets hot easily. If I turn it up, she won’t be comfortable. Just bear with it for a while.” Though his tone was consultative, his actions were forcefully non-negotiable. After speaking, he turned back to gaming with his friends. Ares glanced at me lightly, sneered, and turned to join them. From beginning to end, no one bothered to look at me. I was like an outsider, completely out of place. My body involuntarily shivered. I suddenly spoke: “How long do I have to endure this?” The gaming sounds quieted. Leo turned to look at me, his face somewhat impatient. “Two hours at most. You can put on more clothes.” “But I have rhinitis. I can’t handle it.” “Then that’s your own problem.” Leo rotated the controller, with so much force it seemed like he wanted to break the console. The atmosphere instantly became awkward. The others exchanged glances and tried to smooth things over. “Louise, why don’t you go to the bedroom first? You can adjust the temperature in there. We’ll leave soon.” I hummed in agreement and walked into the bedroom. The next second, mocking laughter came from outside the door. “Why are you trying to please her? Didn’t you see Leo ignoring her?” “She just seems kind of pitiful.” “Pitiful people have hateful qualities. I hate this pretentious type the most. Acting all high and mighty, but can she even leave Leo?” “That’s true. I’ve never seen anyone more tolerant than Louise.” They openly mocked me. Leo never said a word, which meant he actually thought the same. I checked the time. Tomorrow would be Monday. I pulled out the last of my luggage and pushed the door open. The laughter instantly froze on their faces. Leo’s expression darkened. “Do you have to be so difficult? Just because I wouldn’t let you adjust the temperature?” Ares stood up, her eyes slightly red. “It’s all because of me. Louise, you don’t have to leave—I’ll go.” But before she could take a step, Leo shot up. “Don’t move. If she wants to leave, let her leave.” Leo’s friends seemed to have finally had enough of me too, saying irritably: “It’s just putting on a jacket. What’s the big deal?” “Really thinks this is her home. Does anyone actually listen to her?” “No wonder she’s an orphan. Who could stand this kind of personality?” My whole body stiffened. Suppressing the sour sadness in my heart, I slowly turned to look at Leo. His face was dark, completely uncaring. He just looked at me and said word by word: “If you leave now, don’t ever come back.” Even at this moment, his first reaction was still to threaten me. I couldn’t tell if it was relief or release. I laughed lightly and left. Bang—a loud crash came from the door as Leo smashed his beloved console to pieces.

After some time, Leo cursed under his breath and yanked the door open, rushing out. But outside, I was long gone. His childhood friend sensed something was wrong and asked carefully: “Leo, should I go bring Louise back?” Leo looked at the thick night, feeling incredibly blocked inside. He hadn’t expected me to actually have the backbone to run away from home. He sneered coldly, his face full of certainty. “Bring her back for what? In less than three days, she’ll come back on her own.” “The marriage license appointment—the offer expires.” When I checked into the hotel, Ares sent me this voice message. Her tone was mocking, as if forcing me to face reality. “If you really have backbone, never come back.” “But I know you can’t bear to leave Leo. Even if nobody welcomes you, you’ll stick to him like a piece of gum that won’t come off.” I knew she was deliberately trying to provoke me, hoping I’d never return. I suddenly found it funny. I wanted to tell her it wasn’t necessary. But in the end, I just blocked her. The next morning, Alexander came to pick me up to get married. He was dressed handsomely and properly. After gazing at me for a while, he gently kissed my face. “Beautiful.” I lowered my head and smiled with a slight blush. When we arrived, I took a photo of the city hall entrance, then walked in hand-in-hand with Alexander. At the same time, Leo’s friend who had stayed up all night at his place suddenly sat bolt upright. “Holy shit, Leo, look what Louise is doing!” Hearing my name, Leo immediately snatched the phone. It showed a photo of city hall. He smirked with disdain. “Wasn’t she running away from home? Now she’s at city hall trying to force me into marriage?” Instantly, the room filled with their mocking laughter. “You going, Leo?” “Need you ask? Of course not! Going would mean admitting defeat!” Leo’s face, tense all night, relaxed considerably. He raised an eyebrow, his tone somewhat smug. “Depends on my mood. I’ll wait until I cool down.” “Holy shit, wait, that’s not right!” Before he could finish, someone refreshed and found an update. “Louise got a marriage license? Isn’t that Alexander, the heir to the Williams Group?”

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I woke up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep from morning sickness. Just as I was about to contact my husband, I stumbled across a post. [What’s a secret you could NEVER let your wife know!] The top-liked comment was pinned: [She’ll never know that the person who had sex with her on our wedding night wasn’t me.] The comments section exploded. [Dude! You have a cuckold fetish?] [Or do you have erectile dysfunction?] The guy replied: [No. I just promised the woman I truly love that I’d never have sex with anyone else. She’s been studying finance in the UK, and she’s coming back tonight.] A wave of nausea hit me. I felt even sicker. Out of curiosity, I clicked on the man’s profile. A hand reaching out of a car window, wearing a distinctive diamond ring. I recognized it instantly. That was the wedding gift I gave my husband. Custom-made, one of a kind in the entire world. My mind went blank. I was about to call my husband to confront him. But then he suddenly sent me a message: [Jason Johnson, you used protection that night with my wife, right?] I frowned. Jason? The cold, ruthless heir of the Johnson family was the one who ravaged me all night? How was that possible? …

The message was quickly deleted. I pretended I hadn’t seen it and hurriedly screenshot the post and profile, saving everything. Sure enough, when the post started trending, Nico Brown deleted his comment. But soon after, he couldn’t help himself and posted his first status update. [Waiting for her.] Two simple words, accompanied by a photo of the airport late at night, revealing Nico’s anticipation. I sneered sarcastically and continued taking screenshots. So his “working overtime” was actually picking up his beloved mistress. I’d planned to tell him about the pregnancy tonight, but now there was no need. Without any hesitation, I immediately called my older brother. “Ian, find someone reliable and have them stake out the airport right now. Watch Nico.” Silence on the other end for a few seconds, then a deep exhale. “He’s cheating?” “Yes.” “How dare he!” Ian’s sleepiness vanished instantly. While arranging for someone to go to the airport, he growled in a low voice. I toyed with the diamond ring on my finger, speaking indifferently: “Since he doesn’t care, let’s just let the Brown Group die completely.” “Whatever you say!” After hanging up, I felt drained of all energy and collapsed onto the bed. Nico’s profile had already updated with a second post. This time it was the back of a young woman, paired with song lyrics. [Your gaze evaporates into clouds, then falls as rain, only then can I draw near.] Beneath it, disgusting men quickly piled on, egging him on: [Come on bro, you still haven’t sealed the deal? Go for it!] Nico replied in real-time: [I couldn’t bear to before. After all, I married a domineering nouveau riche. Didn’t want her to get hurt.] [But now I’m not afraid of anything. No matter what, I can take half her money.] Those men all praised his clever planning. They even asked him for advice. He pontificated in the comments about how easy it was to fool a brainless woman like me. I scoffed inwardly, looking at the illusory, dazzling light on my ring finger. “Ha, Nico…” “I’m afraid you don’t know that I married you precisely because you’re stupid.” I opened the safe. I took out a thick file from inside. Walking to the floor-to-ceiling window, I looked out at the brightly lit skyscrapers outside. A cold laugh rose in my heart. Nico. Since you’re heartless, don’t blame me for being ruthless. “Schedule an abortion for me. The sooner the better.” Early the next morning, I called the top private hospital. Just after hanging up, my secretary rushed in to report. “Ma’am, Mr. Nico suddenly wants to use the wedding memorial hall to host a welcome party for a friend.” “For whom?” “A Miss Penny, he said.” “Penny…” I thought for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed. So that’s why Nico insisted on keeping the wedding venue. This was his plan all along. Claiming he wanted to preserve our beautiful memories together. In reality, he wanted to throw a secret lavish wedding for his returning mistress. Too bad he couldn’t afford the rental fee for the eight-star hotel ballroom. The permanent usage rights were in my hands alone. “Tell him I don’t agree.” “What gives you the right to disagree?” The words had barely left my mouth when Nico burst through the door. He threw down the cheap packaging in his hand and began his interrogation. “Fiona, I’m your husband. Do I need to file a report to use a venue?” “And I even waited in line for two hours to buy you porridge!” I glanced sideways at the completely cold fish porridge, a cold sneer forming at the corner of my mouth. The paparazzi had already sent me photos— This was just leftovers from the old restaurant where he and his mistress relived their student days. “Then I’d like to know what kind of bigshot deserves to use my wedding venue.” Nico blinked guiltily, unconsciously raising his voice. “Of course someone a thousand times better than you!” “Oh?” I raised my eyebrows playfully. “In that case, I’d like to see exactly who this person is.” 2. The welcome party was scheduled for noon. As soon as I entered the venue, a young woman in a white dress came over. Anyone could see she and Nico were wearing matching outfits. How audacious. “Nico.” She called out sweetly, and right in front of me, enthusiastically kissed Nico’s cheek. Then she tightly hooked her arm through his and asked me provocatively: “Miss Fiona, I’ve gotten used to being abroad. You don’t mind, do you?” Nico looked impatient, glancing at me with disgust. “She’s just a nouveau riche who didn’t even finish high school. What would she understand?” My face remained expressionless as I quietly flexed my wrist. “And you are?” The people standing around were all friends of Nico and Penny. Hearing me ask this, their voices were full of contempt. “Her name is Penny. She’s the daughter of Nico’s family’s housekeeper.” “They grew up together.” “Nico funded her to study abroad these past few years, which is how you got your chance.” Hearing this, I laughed scornfully and removed the diamond ring from my finger. “The housekeeper’s daughter…” “No wonder even your schemes are so beneath contempt.” My voice was neither loud nor soft, but enough for everyone to hear. Penny bit her lip awkwardly, and Nico’s expression changed dramatically. “Fiona, who are you looking down on!” My gaze instantly turned sharp, and I slapped him without hesitation. The crisp sound echoed through the banquet hall for a long time. “A housekeeper’s daughter thinks she deserves to use my wedding venue for a welcome party?” “Nico, have you lost your mind?” Nico covered his face in disbelief, trembling with rage. “You’re just a nouveau riche who got lucky! What are you so arrogant about!” “Don’t forget, you’re legally married to me! We didn’t sign any prenuptial agreement, so I can take half of everything you have!” He was confident, thinking he’d found my weakness. I laughed as if I’d heard a joke, sneering. “Is that so? Then go ahead and try.” I turned away dismissively. On my way out, I collided with a solid chest. The scent of warm sandalwood heated by body temperature filled my nose, incredibly familiar. I slowly looked up and saw that noble face. It was Jason. “Are you alright?” He steadied me, scorching warmth spreading from his palm. I was about to apologize when I heard Penny’s shrill retort. “So what if I’m a housekeeper’s daughter? It’s still not your place to look down on me!” “Oh? Then tell me, what kind of person am I?” I suddenly became interested. I pulled out a chair and sat down. Penny tapped her wine glass, getting everyone to quiet down. “I didn’t want to broadcast this everywhere, but seeing Nico so humiliated, I have no choice but to speak up—” “I am the renowned stock market genius trader, codename Black Swan!” After speaking, she proudly puffed out her chest. Gasps of surprise filled the room. Black Swan! The legendary trader who could shake the entire stock market! Unpredictable stock trades, ruthless execution, an undefeated career! Having her was like having a money tree! “But Black Swan suddenly disappeared two years ago. How do you prove you’re her?” Someone at the table questioned. Penny smirked confidently and pulled out an exquisite velvet box from her bag. When she opened it, everyone nearly dropped their jaws. Inside was the gold coin gifted by the Stock God himself! The engraved black swan on the back even had the Stock God’s personal fingerprint! Then she pulled out a gold-embossed certificate and placed it on the glass turntable for everyone to examine. It was personally issued by the government, impossible to fake. “This gold coin, I’m sure everyone here has heard of it.” “This should be proof enough of my identity.” 3. When the coin turned to face me, I knew at a glance it was real. But how did it end up in her hands? Seeing me frown, Penny thought she’d gotten to me and became even more arrogant. “Miss Fiona, this is me—climbing to the top of my industry through my own efforts.” “And you? Besides your family’s money, what else do you have?” Hearing this, everyone around looked at me smugly, waiting for me to embarrass myself. After all, my high school expulsion was known throughout the city. Every teacher said they couldn’t teach me. Everyone said I drove the teachers crazy, not knowing it was their own incompetence. Thinking about this, I suddenly found it strange. If Penny really got into that top finance university, how could she not have heard of me? My phone suddenly vibrated a few times. It was investigation materials from Ian. Before I even finished reading, I couldn’t help but laugh. So that’s how it was. I stood up unhurriedly and asked in a voice just loud enough for everyone to hear: “What if I said I’m the Black Swan?” The moment I spoke, the air suddenly went silent, then everyone burst into laughter. Penny laughed until her shoulders shook. Nico nearly rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Fiona, you didn’t even finish high school. Do you even know what Black Swan is? How dare you spout nonsense.” “Hurry up and apologize to Penny, then pay the full venue fee, and we won’t hold this against you.” Just as everyone was laughing hysterically, a hoarse yet incredibly steady voice rang out. “I believe her.” Everyone looked over in unison, their pupils dilating in shock. It was Jason again! Had he… lost his mind?! His eyes were dark, staring at me with deep, burning intensity. As if afraid I hadn’t heard clearly, he seriously repeated: “I believe her. I believe Fiona is the Black Swan.” I looked up and met his gaze. Fragments of that crazy wedding night flashed before my eyes. My face inexplicably began to heat up. I hurriedly turned away. “Fine, you say you’re the Black Swan. Then what can you use to prove it?” “Don’t tell me you’re going to pull out a gold coin too?” Penny’s lackeys started making trouble again, then deliberately laughed together with the people beside them. Nico didn’t even bother pretending anymore, directly embracing Penny. After all, with the Black Swan, who’d worry about cash flow problems? “Fiona, can you stop being so stubborn?” “Hurry up, pay the money and get lost. Stop embarrassing yourself here.” “Go back and prepare a villa for Penny, or I’ll divorce you!” I raised my eyes slightly, still expressionless. “What proof? How boring.” “Tomorrow morning when the stock market opens, we’ll have a real showdown. Then we’ll know who’s the fake.” Some people in the industry who knew me pulled at my sleeve worriedly, whispering advice: “Miss Fiona, you don’t even know what the stock market is. What kind of showdown can you have?” “You absolutely can’t do this recklessly. You could lose money.” “Even if your family is incredibly wealthy, you can’t afford to lose like this!” Probably afraid I’d back out, Penny quickly stepped forward to agree. “Fine! Let’s compete!” “But let me say this upfront—if you lose everything, Nico will have to suffer with you.” “Before that happens, signing a divorce agreement shouldn’t be a problem, right?” As soon as Penny finished speaking, her friends immediately started making noise. “Exactly! You want to kill yourself, but you can’t drag others down with you!” “Stupid and malicious women are the worst! Divorce is the best risk mitigation!” After hearing this, everyone else could barely stay seated. Everyone knew the Brown family begged for this marriage alliance precisely because they needed my financial help. Now that they’d finally latched onto this big tree, how could Nico possibly divorce? But the next second, Nico agreed without thinking. “I agree!” Those who didn’t believe it before were instantly stunned. “Are you sure?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest, sneering as I asked him. He immediately answered. “I’m sure.” “Fine, then I want you to return all the funds I allocated to the Brown family immediately.” Nico’s arrogant expression froze on his face. The Brown family had begged for ages to get that funding. How could they just return it! “Why should I!” His expression turned ugly. Penny beside him couldn’t help but remind him. “Nico, she really is as dumb as a pig.” “She only knows to demand the funds back, but doesn’t know to make you sign a marital property agreement.” “Divorcing now is actually good for you. Whether she dares show up tomorrow or not, you must take half her assets!” “That’s right!” Nico suddenly understood and immediately had the finance department return all the funds. Before the money even arrived, he loudly proclaimed to everyone: “I ask everyone here to witness—from this moment on, Fiona has nothing to do with me!” People below shook their heads and sighed, expressing sympathy for me. Only Jason stared at me with burning eyes. I stood up decisively, my heels clicking against the marble. The crisp sound was like another slap about to land on his face. “Fine, I agree.” “The bet is now in effect. Tomorrow at the exchange, see you there.” Penny looked triumphant. “Don’t be a coward tomorrow.” The door slowly closed behind me. I couldn’t hold back anymore and rushed to the bathroom, vomiting violently. When I looked up, a black silk handkerchief had somehow appeared beside my hand. I immediately turned around, but the doorway was empty with no one in sight. Only a faint, lingering scent of sandalwood remained in the air.

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I fled with my pregnancy for four years, never expecting to run into my foster brother Diego late one night at the pediatric emergency room. I wore a mask. He didn’t recognize me. His gaze first fell on the child in my arms: “How old?” “Five,” I lied. He touched Jesse’s throat with a cotton swab, then gently pressed his abdomen twice before turning back to his desk to write up the medical record. Mycoplasma pneumonia. Nebulizer treatment and observation required. Halfway through writing, his pen tip paused. “Where’s the child’s father? Didn’t he come with you?” “He’s dead!” I said. His pen tip stopped on the medical record for three seconds. “The detailed examination will take about two and a half hours.” He handed over the prescription, never once looking up at me again throughout the entire process. I took the slip, and the moment I turned to leave the examination room with Jesse in my arms, the nurse’s voice drifted over clearly from behind: “Mr. Diego, your fiancée just called to say she wants to change the bouquet for the engagement party the day after tomorrow to white bellflowers.” Fiancée? Engagement party? My arms suddenly tightened, pulling Jesse closer. I buried my head and hurried toward the end of the corridor. The observation room had only one wall lamp lit, its warm yellow glow mingling with the smell of disinfectant. After Jesse was hooked up to the nebulizer and given medication, his burning body finally cooled down, and he drifted off to sleep in a daze. I sat on the hard plastic chair beside him, staring at the white mist dispersing from the nebulizer. Jesse clutched my finger in his sleep. Who he resembled—anyone who’d seen them could tell at a glance. His eyes, nose bridge, the curve of his lips—all carved from the same mold as Diego. So for these four years, I never brought him anywhere we might run into Diego’s family. I kept this child hidden away completely. At three-thirty in the morning, Jesse’s temperature returned to normal. I wrapped him tightly in his blanket, picked him up, and headed out. Passing through the emergency corridor, the examination room door was ajar. Diego was still inside. He leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed, as if taking a brief rest. A cup of coffee sat on his desk, with a photograph pressed beneath it. I didn’t see clearly who was in the photo, and I didn’t want to. I quickened my pace and rushed out of the hospital entrance. The next day, Jesse’s fever was completely gone. His spirits much improved, he sat on the living room carpet assembling Legos. I changed clothes preparing to leave when Raven’s call came in: “Miss Annie, the Thomas Group moved up the meeting. They want to see you at nine.” “Got it. I’m leaving now.” I drove to the company and changed into a tailored ash-gray suit and skirt. The person in the mirror bore no resemblance to the woman from last night at the hospital, frantically registering with a child in her arms. Annie Smith, founder of Smith Medical Technology, with annual revenue of $230 million last year. No one in the entire company knew I had a son, and even fewer knew I’d been raised for over a decade in the Thomas household, that I was once the person Diego cherished above all. In the conference room, three representatives from the Thomas Group had arrived, led by a man in his forties. “Miss Annie, we’ve heard so much about you. Our chairman places great importance on this collaboration and would like to meet with you personally the day after tomorrow.” “Your chairman—is that Kane Thomas?” My hand holding the water glass didn’t move an inch. Kane Thomas. Diego’s father, the helmsman of the Thomas Group, and the man who years ago had slapped a check in front of me and told me to get out of the Thomas family. “Miss Annie?” Director Mason looked at me. I set down my glass and uttered a single word: “Fine. I’ll be there.” That evening when I got home, Jesse had completely recovered, running around barefoot on the floor. After his bath, he lay in bed hugging his little astronaut doll: “Mommy, that doctor yesterday was so gentle.” My hand tucking in his blanket froze. “Mommy, does he look like Daddy?” “Go to sleep peacefully, Jesse.” I turned off the lamp. In the darkness, his breathing quickly became steady and even. I sat by the bed for a long time without moving. Does he look like him? He IS his biological father. The day after tomorrow, Thomas Group headquarters, the fifty-fourth floor of a CBD office building. I wore a fitted black suit and skirt, my hair completely pinned up, full makeup applied—not to see anyone in particular, but as protocol for going into battle. The elevator reached the fifty-fourth floor. The receptionist led me to a very large conference room. When the door opened, people were already seated inside. Three people from Director Mason’s side, a man who looked like legal counsel, and a woman in her late twenties with long hair and delicate makeup, wearing a beige tweed suit. When she saw me, she stood up politely: “Miss Annie, hello. I’m Eve, Chairman Thomas’s assistant. Mr. Thomas had something come up at the last minute and asked me to receive you first.” Eve. The name the nurse had mentioned that night. Diego’s fiancée. She didn’t recognize me. We’d never met before. I was Diego’s completely buried past, the stain the Thomas family never spoke of.

“Miss Eve, hello.” I extended my hand. She gripped it lightly before letting go. “Miss Annie is young and accomplished. Smith Medical has been very aggressive in the industry these past two years. Our Mr. Thomas has been paying close attention.” “You’re too kind.” After the pleasantries ended, we got down to business. Director Mason reported on the previously finalized cooperation framework. Eve took notes on the side, occasionally interjecting with questions. Her questions were all sharp and professional—she was definitely not just an empty-headed vase. After forty minutes of discussion, her phone rang. “Excuse me, I need to take this call.” She walked out of the conference room. The door didn’t close completely, and her voice drifted in from the corridor: “Diego, I’m in a meeting at Thomas Group. Yeah, the high-end medical equipment company, Annie Smith. Do you know her? You don’t? Okay then, let’s go taste the menu tonight. The banquet menu still isn’t finalized. Okay, love you.” I kept my head down staring at the contract terms, reading word by word, but my fingertips were slightly white. Eve returned, smiling as she sat down: “Sorry, personal call. Let’s continue.” When the meeting ended, I stood to grab my bag and leave. Eve walked me to the elevator. “Miss Annie, may I ask something presumptuous—are you married?” “No.” “Do you have children?” I looked at her: “Miss Eve, does this question relate to our cooperation?” “No, just curious. Women powerhouses like you are mostly single.” The elevator arrived. I stepped in, unable to tell if she was asking casually or had already sensed something. Monday, there was trouble at the company. “Miss Annie, Thomas Group responded. They’re adamant about a thirty-eight percent profit split.” Raven’s expression was terrible. “The reason given is that Mr. Thomas personally set it, and they said if we don’t agree, they’ll turn around and work with our competitors.” “Competitors? There are no same-tier competitors in our sector.” “They mentioned a name. Carter Medical.” I set down my pen. Carter Medical—a company established just four months ago. The founder was our former technical director who’d jumped ship, taking three core engineers with him. Their product was still in development and hadn’t even obtained market authorization. Thomas Group was using a shell company without even a finished product to pressure me. They were bluffing. “I thought so too, but what if they really invest? The offline channels in the East are too important to us.” I thought for a moment: “Set up a meeting with Kane Thomas for me. I’m done dealing with intermediaries.” “Are you sure you want to meet him directly?” “At the negotiating table, I’m Annie Smith, founder of Smith Medical. Any other identity doesn’t exist.” Raven hesitated, then returned five minutes later: “It’s arranged. Wednesday afternoon, Thomas Group headquarters. Kane Thomas will see you personally.” “Good.” Wednesday, I stood in the elevator on the fifty-fourth floor of Thomas Group headquarters, taking a deep breath. Kane Thomas. The last time I saw him was five years ago. Back then I was still the Thomas family’s adopted daughter, twenty-three years old. I didn’t know how to apply sophisticated makeup, wore cotton dresses bought from Amazon. He sat on the leather sofa in the Thomas family living room, speaking to me across the coffee table: “Annie Smith, the Thomas family doesn’t need an adopted daughter who doesn’t know her place, much less one who has feelings for Diego. Here’s two million. Take it, sign the papers, get out of the Thomas family, and never come back.” I didn’t take that two million. I left. Only when I left, I was already carrying a small life in my belly. Today’s me wore a sharp suit with full presence, completely different from that timid girl of years past. “Miss Annie, Mr. Thomas is waiting for you inside.” By the floor-to-ceiling windows, a man around sixty stood talking on the phone. Kane Thomas hung up and turned around: “Miss Annie, please sit.” His eyes held scrutiny. Five years had changed me too much. He wasn’t certain, but his gaze told me he found me familiar. “Mr. Thomas, our previous framework negotiations stalled on the profit split. I wanted to discuss it with you face to face.” “Miss Annie certainly gets straight to the point.” He sat down. “Thirty-eight percent was my decision. I have my considerations.” “What considerations?” “The value of Thomas Group’s channels isn’t just distribution—it’s a complete after-sales system and technical training system. Factor in those costs, and thirty-eight percent isn’t high.” “Mr. Thomas, I’ve done my due diligence. Seventy percent of Thomas Group’s after-sales team is outsourced. A thirty-eight percent split should correspond to a mature end-to-end system, not a half-built work in progress.” He laughed: “Very thorough homework. Cooperation requires mutual benefit. Thirty-three percent—I can additionally provide completely free training support for the first batch of equipment, saving you labor costs.” He stared at me for ten seconds: “Miss Annie, you remind me of someone.”

He called my name. He’d recognized me. I don’t know if he recognized me that night in the examination room but didn’t expose me in front of the nurse, or if he only confirmed it later by checking medical records. It didn’t matter anymore. So what if he recognized me? My child and I don’t need anything from him. For the follow-up, I’d switch to another hospital. I immediately called a pediatric director I knew well: Scheduled for the next day at City Central Hospital. Definitely not Municipal Hospital. Definitely wouldn’t see Diego. That evening, I was at home reviewing the final cooperation contract when the doorbell rang. The housekeeper went to answer it and soon returned: “Miss Annie, someone at the door delivered a document envelope. They said it’s from the hospital.” In the waterproof envelope was a detailed lab report and a handwritten note. I recognized the handwriting. It was Diego’s. He’d had the report delivered to my home. He knew my home address—it was in the medical record system. I put the report in a drawer, crumpled the note into a ball and threw it in the trash, then picked up my phone and sent him a text: “Report received. Already scheduled follow-up at another hospital. Please don’t disturb my life again.” After sending it, I blocked him directly. After the examination at City Central Hospital, everything was normal—just a simple allergic constitution. I held Jesse’s hand, walking down the steps at the hospital entrance when suddenly a black Maybach smoothly stopped by the roadside. The black Maybach’s door opened, and Diego bent down and stepped out. He still wore Municipal Hospital’s white coat, sleeves rolled to his elbows exposing the clear veins on his forearms. His eyes were bloodshot—clearly he’d rushed over right after surgery. He’d been waiting outside the hospital for a full three hours. I yanked Jesse behind me. But Jesse poked his head out from my side, his round eyes brightening as he called out crisply: “Uncle!” Diego’s gaze fell on the child’s face, his Adam’s apple rolling hard. Finally he didn’t look at the child, his eyes locked deadly on my face, voice hoarse like sandpaper: “I waited for you for three hours.” I adjusted my mask, voice cold as ice: “Mr. Diego, you’re overstepping. I’ve seen the child’s follow-up results. Everything’s normal. No need to trouble yourself.” I pulled Jesse to leave. Diego stepped forward, steadily blocking my path. He didn’t touch me, just stood half a step away, pulling a folded document from his white coat pocket and holding it before me. The document cover bore the logo of a forensic identification center. The moment I opened it, my blood ran cold. Paternity test report. The conclusion line spelled it out clearly in black and white: Cumulative paternity index greater than 99.99%, supporting Diego as Jesse’s biological father. The follow-up slip in my hand dropped to the ground with a “thud.” My fingertips trembled uncontrollably, yet I still forced out a cold laugh: “Forging something like this—don’t you think that’s beneath you, Mr. Diego? I don’t accept it.” Diego’s voice carried four years of suppressed collapse: “Annie, four years—did you plan to hide him forever? Plan to let him live without a father his whole life?” I bent down to pick up the slip, gripping Jesse’s hand tightly, and turned to leave, my steps almost fleeing. This time, Diego didn’t stop me. I got in the car with the child, and the car sped away. Through the rearview mirror, I saw him slowly crouch down and pick up the crumpled note I’d just dropped—the one he’d written with the follow-up reminder. I’d clearly thrown it in the trash, but somehow Jesse had secretly retrieved it and tucked it in my bag.

I brought Jesse home and locked myself in the study all night. That paternity test report sat on my desk like a red-hot branding iron, burning my eyes painfully. The fortress I’d built around myself over four years cracked the moment I saw that report. As dawn approached, Raven’s call came in, her voice carrying unprecedented panic: “Miss Annie, disaster! Thomas Group unilaterally tore up our previous agreement. They want to acquire us—otherwise they’ll report us to the FDA for non-compliance!” I snapped alert instantly, the confusion in my eyes fading to leave only coldness. Kane Thomas indeed had ulterior motives from the start. If he could chase me out of the Thomas family with two million years ago, today he could use capital to swallow the empire I’d fought four years to build. I immediately convened an emergency meeting with the core team, only to receive even more devastating news. Our core non-invasive cardiac function monitoring patent had been preemptively registered by Carter Medical. Their application was filed three days before ours, and the technical documentation submitted was almost identical to our core code. The former technical director who’d jumped ship did it. And behind Carter Medical stood Kane Thomas. The team was in turmoil, but I remained unusually calm, methodically arranging countermeasures. It wasn’t until the meeting ended and I was alone in the office that I collapsed weakly against the chair back. Just then, my work email received an anonymous message. The moment I opened it, my whole body shook. The email contained all the evidence of Carter Medical’s patent fraud, including transfer records between the technical director and Kane Thomas, recordings of private dealings, and even backend credentials showing they’d falsified application timestamps when registering the patent. The attachments also included internal documents about Thomas Group’s Eastern regional channels, clearly marking all channel partners’ bottom lines and payment period vulnerabilities. I immediately had the tech department trace the sender’s address. The only result: the address was encrypted, originating from Municipal Hospital’s internal network. My hand on the mouse trembled slightly. Suddenly I recalled that over these four years, the company had faced more than one life-or-death crisis. In the early startup days, I couldn’t get medical device production certification. After countless rejected applications to various departments, just as I was about to give up, someone anonymously helped me submit supplementary materials, and certification was approved within a week. The second year, the capital chain broke. Suppliers blocked the door demanding payment. A nameless angel investment suddenly hit the company account, exactly filling the gap. Even last year, when competitors maliciously smeared my product, before I could act, their dirty laundry spread throughout the industry first. I’d always thought I was just lucky. Only now did I understand—it wasn’t luck. Someone had been silently protecting me for four years from where I couldn’t see. Before I could process all this, the housekeeper’s call suddenly came in, her voice shaking badly: “Miss Annie! Come home quickly! Jesse suddenly can’t breathe, his lips are purple—I’ve already called 911!” My mind went blank with a “buzz.” I grabbed my car keys and rushed out, ran three red lights, driving like mad toward home, but still caught up to the ambulance carrying Jesse at Municipal Hospital’s emergency entrance. Jesse lay on the gurney, his little face deathly pale, lips blue-purple, breathing weak, already in semi-consciousness. A doctor ran out holding examination results, expression grave: “The child has congenital ventricular septal defect causing acute left heart failure. We must perform open-heart surgery immediately, or his life is in danger at any moment!” My legs gave out. I steadied myself against the wall, voice trembling: “Do the surgery! Who’s your best doctor? I want the best doctor!” The doctor answered: “This surgery is extremely difficult. The child is young and the defect location is special. In the entire city, only Director Diego from Cardiac Surgery has successful experience with similar surgeries on patients under three years old.” Diego. Those three words stabbed into my heart like a knife. Four years of pride, four years of defenses, four years of gritting my teeth and persevering—all shattered to pieces before my child’s life. I didn’t even have time to hesitate before hearing urgent footsteps behind me. Diego ran over. He’d just finished a ten-hour bypass surgery and hadn’t changed out of his surgical scrubs, sweat still on his forehead. Seeing my ashen face, he simply reached out and steadily supported my arm, voice firm as an anchor: “Annie, trust me. I won’t let anything happen to him.” Looking at those bloodshot eyes, the hatred and grievances I’d accumulated over four years suddenly collapsed completely in that moment. I nodded, tears finally falling: “Diego, please, save him.”

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