Category: English

My mind kept replaying the nightmare of my past life. My mother-in-law had been on a public bus, heading to the market for groceries, when a toxic gas leak suddenly erupted. The police, frantic, reached out to my wife, Summer Meng, at her lab, desperately hoping her purification materials could save the day. But Summer had already bought up every last bit of the city’s purification agents. She’d used them to create a romantic fireworks display for her high school sweetheart, Zayeed. I’d rushed, completely reckless, to reclaim the materials. I managed to save my mother-in-law, but Zayeed’s grand fireworks show was ruined. Heartbroken, Zayeed accidentally triggered a chemical incident, and was incinerated in the ensuing explosion. Summer said she didn’t blame me, but on the day my mother-in-law was discharged, she locked me in the lab and detonated a gas bomb. “The fireworks Zayeed never got to see? You’ll be their grand finale!” she’d shrieked, laughing maniacally, as I was blown to smithereens. This time around, when the police called, I refused their request to contact Summer. Zayeed finally got his meticulously planned fireworks spectacle. But Summer… she went completely mad. 1 The twenty-five desperate screams from the bus passengers echoed through the intercom in my right ear. “Gas concentration is climbing. Oxygen levels are dropping fast. They won’t last much longer!” Someone shoved me, and as my body tilted, a sudden clarity hit me. I had been reborn. Through the phone still pressed to my left ear, Summer’s impatient voice crackled. “Haven, are you done yet? Can’t you go five minutes without calling?” “I told you, it’s Zayeed’s birthday today. I’m celebrating with him. I don’t have time for you! Stop bothering me!” The line went dead. I clutched my furiously pounding heart, overhearing someone nearby. “The gas concentration is too high. Any contact with outside air will cause an explosion. No one inside will make it out alive.” “The only way is to purify the gas inside the vehicle first, then open the doors!” A police officer, brows furrowed, looked at me. “Isn’t your wife a renowned chemist? Contact her for help!” I offered a bitter smile, saying nothing. The moment the need for purification materials became clear, I had already called her. But she’d just erupted in fury. “Haven, I tolerate your jealousy towards Zayeed normally, but today, to stop me from celebrating his birthday, you’re cursing my mom!” “How could there be a gas leak on a bus? Do you just make up lies without thinking?” “What gas? And it specifically needs LumaGlow to purify it? You know it’s Zayeed’s favorite material! I’m using all of it for fireworks to make him the happiest man in the world!” How utterly ridiculous. My wife of three years, on our wedding anniversary, was saying she was celebrating another man’s birthday. And she wanted to use the very material that could save my mother-in-law to light a romantic fireworks show for him! Ten feet away, inside the bus, everyone was frantically pounding on the windows. My mother-in-law, dressed in her simple clothes, was struggling to wave at me. She probably couldn’t even imagine that the daughter she’d lovingly raised would abandon her now. By late afternoon, a gas expert arrived. “After our assessment, the gas component is from an insecticide made by a biotech company. Here’s the director’s number.” The call connected. “Mr. Harold, this is a toxic gas expert from the police department. There’s a gas leak on a bus on Willow Road, traced back to your company.” “Purifying the gas requires LumaGlow. Please cooperate and send all your company’s LumaGlow to Willow Road.” A few seconds of silence, then a sniffle, tinged with feigned hurt, came from the other end. “Summer, your husband is so desperate to stop you from setting off fireworks for me that he’s hired actors pretending to be cops.” “It seems he really minds you being nice to me… Forget it, I don’t need the fireworks. Just go back to him.” The gas expert’s words were caught in his throat. Summer’s infuriated voice cut through. “Haven, are you out of your mind?! You can’t stand to see Zayeed happy?” “I’m warning you, if you ruin this fireworks spectacle today, I’ll never forgive you!” I bit my lip, looking at my mother-in-law, whose face was already pale inside the bus. “Summer, your mom is on that bus.” “They won’t last much longer.” Summer swore under her breath. “Don’t you dare try to manipulate me with my mom! She worked hard her whole life, I brought her to the city to enjoy herself, not to be used by you for attention!” Zayeed continued to sniffle. “Summer, don’t be angry. Your husband didn’t mean it… I understand his jealousy.” “But honey, you really shouldn’t lie to Summer about her mother!” “Listen to Zayeed, how thoughtful he is! If you were half as considerate as Zayeed, I wouldn’t have had to bring my mom to live with us and take care of everything!” “Chris…” The sounds of passionate kissing came through the phone, and everyone present exchanged uncomfortable glances. Before the call ended, Summer’s venomous voice spat, “Haven, if you dare interrupt me setting off fireworks for Zayeed again, you’re out of our house!” 2 The gas expert, clutching the now-disconnected phone, looked at me with a complicated expression. Before he could speak, someone guarding the bus yelled, “Another leak!” We rushed over. Near the driver’s seat, there was a large box containing a dozen bottles labeled “Oxygen.” The expert was still cursing, “Who’s sick enough to fill oxygen tanks with deadly insecticide? This road is bumpy to begin with, and just a few jolts can cause leaks. One leak can trigger a chain reaction!” “There are twenty-five lives on that bus!” My mother-in-law saw me and desperately pounded on the glass. Faint sounds reached me. “Haven! I can’t breathe! Open the door!” My heart twisted. I tried to rush forward but was pulled back by a police officer. I could only shout, “Mom! There’s toxic gas in the bus! It’ll explode if we open the door, you’ll all be killed!” On the other side, a woman cradled her baby, sobbing uncontrollably. “Please, do something! My baby is only two months old!” The gas expert finished another call nearby, then came over, his face grim. “I’ve asked every colleague I could reach; none of them have LumaGlow.” “Not just our city, but the entire state and even neighboring states, all of the LumaGlow has been bought up by Summer Meng.” “She said it was to ignite the most romantic fireworks for the man she loves most!” “And since LumaGlow is her patent, no one else can refuse her!” The distraught families quickly asked, “Can’t we get it from somewhere else?” “The closest LumaGlow we can find would take four hours to transport, but they…” His hesitation ignited the crowd of families outside the bus. “Four hours! How could they possibly last four hours?!” The baby’s father was heartbroken. He had left for work this morning with everything fine, his wife and child sleeping at home. Now, on his way home, eager to see them, he received a call saying his wife and child were trapped on a bus, about to be poisoned to death! “Enough with the excuses! Summer Meng is your wife, isn’t she? Make her send the LumaGlow and save them!” I lowered my head, tears streaming. “I contacted her. She refused…” The expert clenched his fist in anger. “This Summer Meng even received an award for filial piety! To think her own mother is about to be poisoned to death, and she’s only thinking about celebrating her lover’s birthday and setting off romantic fireworks for him! What kind of damn fireworks are more important than twenty-five human lives?!” Someone asked, “Are there no other materials? Does it have to be LumaGlow?” “Yes, the gas on the bus contains components from Zayeed Harold’ biotech company, and LumaGlow was co-developed with Summer Meng’s lab. Their big marketing pitch was that one could be developed into a deadly insecticide, and the other could purify that specific toxin. So, it can only be LumaGlow.” A sudden commotion erupted on the bus. The young mother, clutching her now lifeless child, let out a heart-wrenching, hysterical scream. “Baby! Don’t scare Mommy! Mommy can’t live without you!” “If you die, what will Mommy do? Baby… baby…” We stood outside the bus, watching helplessly as the child’s mother’s arm fell, and she, too, stopped breathing alongside her beloved child. The young father completely lost it. He grabbed my throat, his eyes bloodshot. “I don’t care if your wife is with her lover or whatever! My wife and child are dead, and you’ll die for your wife!” I stood my ground, letting him choke me, the suffocating sensation making my vision swim. In my previous life, when I desperately forced the LumaGlow to be brought, most of the people inside the bus were already dead. Even if my mother-in-law survived, I became a shell of a man, living every day with overwhelming guilt for the others. This time, if my life could save everyone on the bus, I would willingly die right now. In my fading consciousness, I heard my mother-in-law’s voice. “Haven! Let go of my son-in-law! Haven, run!” I immediately snapped back to reality, breaking free with the help of the police, coughing violently. Through tear-blurred eyes, my mother-in-law desperately pounded on the glass, looking at me with urgency. The driver in the front tried to reach her but suddenly rolled his eyes and collapsed inside the bus. No, I have to save them. I grabbed the megaphone and shouted, “Mom! Everyone, sit down, regulate your breathing! Don’t get emotional!” “The more agitated you are, the more gas you inhale!” A police officer picked up his phone again. “I’m sending the closest officers to persuade her! Where is she now?” The moment he spoke, a deafening sound of fireworks echoed from the southeast. “That direction… that’s the villa she bought for Zayeed.” 3 Zayeed’s company was set up by Summer, and the villa was bought by Summer. The toxic gas components and LumaGlow were both developed by Summer, yet she gave him the patent for them. He never had to do anything; he just spent her money and lived a lavish lifestyle. I, her legitimate husband, had to use my salary to cover household expenses and take care of my mother-in-law. Fortunately, my mother-in-law was understanding and treated me wonderfully, like her own son. But today, she was trapped on that bus, and her own daughter, who could save her, only cared about another man! Amidst the explosions of fireworks, police officers, having connected by phone, rushed to the villa. The call hadn’t been hung up, and we could hear the fireworks growing clearer. An officer introduced himself, then said, “The passengers on the bus are still awaiting rescue. We urgently need the LumaGlow to purify the gas. Please hand over the materials immediately!” But then, a cry of “Oh!” erupted. “My brother-in-law is so idle, he even hired actors to come to the door?” The officer, eager to save lives, was about to pull out his ID when he was punched. “How much did Haven give you? I’ll offer ten times that! Just stop bothering me!” The distraught family members around me roared with anger. “Are you insane?! My son is still on that bus! Bring the materials now!” Summer heard the commotion and snatched the phone. “Who are you, his latest fling?! Haven, how dare you cheat on me?!” “Tell me! How long have you two been hooking up?! You even have a son together!” That family member was beyond enraged; if the police hadn’t held them back, they probably would have smashed the phone. I sighed, completely disheartened. “She’s a passenger’s relative from the bus. Her son is sitting right in front of your mother…” “Haven! You’re still making up stories! I’d die before I believed there’s toxic gas on a bus!” “The gas was in oxygen tanks, and the component is…” “Are you going to say the component is from Zayeed’s company? You’ve fabricated such an elaborate story just to ruin my romantic gesture for Zayeed! I truly regret marrying you, you’re so malicious!” Summer’s furious voice was interrupted by Zayeed. “It’s okay, Summer, your husband is just doing all this because he loves you. What’s wrong with a man who loses his mind for love?” His comforting words soothed Summer. “Zayeed, you’re always so understanding. I must have been out of my mind back then; I should have crashed your wedding.” “It’s not too late now, Summer…” The sound of passionate kissing came through the phone, then the line went dead. A few minutes later, the officers called back, their voices bitter and angry. “Summer Meng threw us out and had people barricade the villa complex. No one’s allowed in!” “She also told us to pass on a message: if we dare disturb their fireworks again, she’ll set all the LumaGlow on fire.” Dozens of furious eyes glared at me, as if they wanted to skin me alive. “Grandma, don’t fall asleep, please hold on!” a little boy cried out. “You’re all I have, Grandma. What will I do if you leave?! Grandma!” We grew desperate, forgetting our anger, and rushed forward in a frenzy. A man, wielding a fire extinguisher, tried to smash the glass, but a police officer grabbed him around the waist and dragged him back. “No! The gas concentration in the bus is at its peak; any misstep will cause an explosion!” I watched my mother-in-law struggling to breathe, yet she kept murmuring my name. “Haven…” I lost my mind, grabbed my phone, and started recording. “Summer Meng! Open your eyes and look! Your mother and everyone on this bus are about to die because of you!” I sent the video. An exclamation mark appeared, she had blocked me. The fireworks from the villa continued, each burst a different color and shape. Some even spelled out Zayeed’s initials, a blatant display of affection. Social media was ablaze with this romantic fireworks spectacle, its trending topic eclipsing our cries for help. It even drew countless people to the site, paralyzing traffic, and several reporters who wanted to cover the story were stuck on the roads. I watched the collapsing eyes in the bus and my mother-in-law’s fading pupils, before I, too, collapsed onto the ground, unable to bear it any longer. Suddenly, I remembered Summer’s business partner. I quickly dialed her for a video call. “Hey, Haven, why are you calling me?” I turned the camera towards my mother-in-law on the bus. Cassie gasped, instinctively shouting, “Auntie! What happened?!” “Cassie, you’re the only one who can save them now!” 4 Cassie listened to the gist of it, then immediately located the unused LumaGlow in the warehouse and sent me photos. “Haven, I’ll send it over to you right away!” Hope surged through us. Everyone cheered, continuously encouraging those inside the bus to hold on. “Mom, look, Cassie says she’ll bring the LumaGlow!” I showed my mother-in-law the chat messages and pictures, but she simply slumped in her seat and asked, “Isn’t LumaGlow my daughter’s research? Why isn’t she bringing it?” My mother-in-law’s voice was weak, and the glass further muffled it, yet it still tore at my heart. I couldn’t tell her the truth. I just wiped away my tears and said, “Mom, Summer will come too!” A video call came in. Cassie whispered, “Haven, I can’t leave. Can you send someone?” The police immediately said, “Dozens of our officers are already on their way. Just deliver it to the complex gate!” Cassie acknowledged, but then the camera suddenly shook, and Summer’s grim, enraged face appeared. “Well, well, Haven, so you’ve set your sights on my business partner now!” Cassie quickly said, “Summer, we need to save Auntie first. Other things can wait!” I quickly aimed the camera at my mother-in-law in the car. My mother-in-law’s eyes lit up when she saw her daughter. “Summer, save me…” “I bought your favorite beef. Tonight when I get home… I’ll braise beef short ribs for you…” A flicker of helplessness crossed Summer’s eyes. “Mom, I’ve tolerated you protecting him all this time, but now you’re even going along with his nonsense?” “What… Summer, I can’t… I’m so uncomfortable, I can’t breathe… save me…” “Ugh, I should have never brought you here. So much trouble.” Summer sighed, then kicked Cassie. “Are you blind? Can’t you see my mom’s just acting?” “Haven seems pretty close to you these days, doesn’t he? What, you’re falling for him?” Cassie was furious. “What are you talking about! Saving lives is what’s important!” “Saving lives, huh? I think what’s most important is for me to get a divorce so you two adulterers can be together, right?” Summer’s words grew increasingly nasty. I couldn’t help but growl, “Summer, you bastard!” “What, does it sting? Then you two get married and go comfort him properly in bed.” She said through gritted teeth. From the background, Zayeed called out. “Summer, hurry up, I’m so cold!” Summer’s face flushed as she yelled, “Coming!” Then, into the phone, she said, “Mom, you guys have fun. I’m busy celebrating Zayeed’s birthday tonight, so I won’t be home. We’ll have the braised short ribs tomorrow.” “Here, I’ll send you two thousand to spend as you please. Is that enough?” “Such a hassle. I shouldn’t have gotten into this messed-up marriage, and now I’ve even corrupted my mom…” The moment the video call ended, my mother-in-law’s tears began to fall. When I proposed, Summer had promised to live a good life with me, and my mother-in-law had vowed I wouldn’t be wronged. But after the wedding, I learned that Summer’s heart belonged to Zayeed, and she only married me because he had married someone else. Every day, she regretted not crashing his wedding. So, she and Zayeed rekindled their romance, buying him luxuries, even the villa I had only dreamed of. When I wanted grilled meat, she claimed she was busy, yet that evening she took Zayeed to a high-end restaurant. When I had a fever, she impatiently told me to drink more hot water, then rushed Zayeed to the hospital after he merely sneezed. Even this very fireworks show was something I had begged her for endlessly and never received. “Have you done the dishes? Washed the clothes? Did you get Mom’s foot bath ready? You haven’t done anything, yet you have time to watch fireworks?” “The materials in our lab are precious, and LumaGlow, in particular, is the fruit of my hard work. Do you think just anyone is worthy of seeing it?” On Zayeed’s social media, Summer, with her bare back to the camera, was nestled in his arms, kissing him passionately. Fireworks, dedicated to him, lit up the sky. But the adults and children on the bus, who had already stopped breathing, wouldn’t even see tomorrow’s sunrise. “Haven, it’s my fault for not raising my daughter well. I’ve harmed you, and so many other people…” My mother-in-law spoke her last words, then her body went limp, collapsing onto the seat, lifeless. “Mom! Mom, don’t go to sleep!” I frantically pounded on the window, but she would never open her eyes again to call my name, “Haven.” In that moment, I wanted to tear Summer and Zayeed limb from limb! Meanwhile, in the fireworks-lit villa, someone knocked on the bedroom door. Summer, annoyed by the interruption, refused to release Zayeed, who lay naked in her arms. “Get lost!” The person outside, panicked, shouted, “Ms. Meng! The bus gas leak incident is on the news!”

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I stood in the auditorium, watching my daughter, Ivy, about to step onto the stage to receive an award for the robotics competition. Suddenly, a man in a sharp suit rose, his voice booming. “I recall your school has a policy: a five-million-dollar donation adds ten points to a student’s score in this year’s competition. This card holds five million dollars. The first prize should go to my son!” Everyone present was stunned. The teacher, after a moment of hesitation, nodded in acknowledgment. Ivy, looking bewildered on stage, exclaimed, “But I was the real first place winner!” The man’s son shot Ivy a disdainful glance, sneering, “Ivy Zheng, what’s the point of trying so hard? My mom’s rich. The chance to study at a top-tier lab is only for me.” Ivy’s eyes welled up. I walked over, taking her hand, a faint smile playing on my lips as I looked at the smug father and son. “You said the card holds five million dollars,” I began. “Is that true? Perhaps we should verify it on the spot.” The man arrogantly nodded. “Of course, it’s true. My wife has plenty of money. Swipe it now!” My smile deepened. The card in his hand was clearly the supplementary card I’d given my wife—her allowance! … Patrick Chen gave me a dismissive glance and haughtily handed the card to the school teacher. Immediately, someone gasped, exclaiming, “This… this is an Apex VIP Black Card! Only individuals with verified assets exceeding a hundred billion would have one!” “Good heavens! Liam Chen’s family is a top-tier dynasty!” Patrick was clearly relishing the adulation, his eyes conveying undisguised arrogance. He then shot Ivy a look that was a mix of disdain and pity. “Little girl, blame it on your folks not having five million. You commoners can try as hard as you want, but you’re just stepping stones for us.” Ivy’s small face flushed crimson. She shouted indignantly, “That’s not fair! I won first place!” She had loved artificial intelligence since she was a child. She’d prepared for this competition for three whole years, and the advanced study opportunity was her dream. The murmurs from the parents in the audience rose and fell. Someone couldn’t help but sigh. “That’s really cruel to the kid.” “But the elite are the elite, especially in a private international school like ours. Wealth is privilege. There’s no fairness in the face of privilege; this is a necessary lesson for her growth.” Even the teacher shook his head at Ivy. “Rules are rules.” Liam, seeing this, laughed even more wildly. “See? I told you, Ivy Zheng, you can’t beat me! What good is your ability?! Your efforts are worthless in front of me!” “Dad, can I go accept the award now?” Patrick grinned triumphantly, glancing at me before telling his son, “Of course.” Ivy’s whole face crumpled, her eyes slightly red, stubbornly repeating under her breath, “I won first place. I won first place!” I felt both heartache and amusement. I leaned in and whispered to her. Her eyes widened. “Dad, is that really true?” I nodded to her. “Watch this.” Just as Liam was striding confidently towards the podium, the teacher suddenly rushed over. “Mr. Chen, this card is locked and completely unusable!” Patrick frowned, raising his voice. “How could that be?! You country bumpkins just don’t know how to use it!” The teacher, helpless, handed the card reader to him. With a “ding,” a robotic female voice announced: “Your card is unusable!” “How is this possible?” Patrick gasped in surprise, unconsciously taking half a step back. Other parents in the audience couldn’t help but snicker. “Mr. Chen, did you just pick up that card?” “If you don’t have five million, why put on such a show? Aren’t you embarrassed?” Patrick’s face turned red with frustration. He gritted his teeth, swiping the card on the machine again and again. “Your card is unusable!” “Your card is unusable!” The laughter and chatter in the crowd grew louder. Liam, too, started getting anxious. “Dad, what’s going on? I need to get my award!” Watching Patrick’s slightly disheveled look, I stepped forward, smiling. “Since Mr. Chen can’t produce the five million, then first place still belongs to my daughter.” Ivy’s face had already cleared. She winked at me, about to walk towards the podium. “Hold on. There’s an issue with this card, but that doesn’t mean I can’t produce the five million. This award today can only go to my son.” Patrick stared at me with a dark expression. After speaking, he immediately made a call, and soon, my wife Eleanor Shen’s voice came through. Patrick hung up, his face once again beaming with confidence. “Don’t worry, son. No one can snatch this award today. It’s yours and yours alone!” He then shot me a challenging look. I let out a cold laugh. Just moments ago, Patrick and Eleanor had put on a public display of affection over the phone, their intimate tones making everyone blush. Soon, my phone rang. Eleanor’s voice, haughty and imperious, immediately came through: “Ethan Zheng, what’s going on with that card you gave me? Contact the bank to unlock it immediately, and increase the limit to fifty million!” I remained unusually calm. “What do you need that much money for?” “For business dealings and entertaining, of course. Don’t ask so many questions, just get it done!” I subtly lowered my eyes, concealing the cold fury swirling within them. Anyone familiar with me, who had been behind the scenes pulling strings for the group for over a decade, knew this was a signal that someone was heading for utter destruction. How absurd. A woman who owed her very existence to the Zheng family dared to keep a lover under my nose and order me around. It seemed I had been too lenient, making her forget who the true master of this household was! Seeing my lack of response, Eleanor sent a few frustrated voice messages, then fell silent. Conversely, Patrick directly raised his phone, displaying his bank balance to everyone: a full five million! A polite smile appeared on his face, but his eyes were filled with triumphant smugness. “Teacher, feeling reassured now? I told you, a family like ours wouldn’t be short five million. Even fifty million is chump change. Unlike families who earn dead-end wages, who haggle over even a hundred thousand.” He first gave me a pointed look, then, feigning kindness, spoke to Ivy: “Little girl, next life, remember to pick a good family to be born into. Don’t let people easily snatch away the fruits of your hard work again.” Ivy smiled sweetly at Patrick. “Mr. Chen, no one can take what’s mine!” I stepped forward, my smile unwavering, and said unhurriedly, “Exactly, no one can take what belongs to my daughter!” “Five million, that’s all.” A kind teacher stepped forward and tugged at my sleeve. “Ivy’s father, five million is no small sum. For the elite, it’s just pocket change for a designer bag, but for ordinary families, it’s an astronomical amount. This advanced study opportunity is rare, but don’t sacrifice your and your wife’s future for it.” Other well-meaning parents also started advising me not to act impulsively. Then there were the sycophants, chiming in with sarcastic remarks: “How much do you earn in a year? Trying to throw money around like the elite, aren’t you afraid of losing your house?” “Some people just want to show off, without considering their own weight class!” It was also my fault for always teaching Ivy to be low-key. In everyone’s eyes, we were just an ordinary working family, and Ivy’s good grades were the only reason she got into this private international school. I scanned the sycophants, and in an instant, the names of their affiliated companies flashed through my mind. I already had a plan. Then, I politely smiled at the teacher. “I’ll do the same as Mr. Chen and transfer the money to the school account.” “Ding!” “Five million credited!” The robotic female voice echoed from the teacher’s phone. A hush fell over the surroundings, then someone shouted, “Holy crap! Ivy Zheng’s dad actually forked out five million!” Patrick’s face darkened. He gritted his teeth, furiously tapping on his phone, then a robotic female voice announced: “Ding!” “Ten million credited!” Immediately, the crowd erupted. Parents gawked. “Ten million?! Are they crazy?!” “You don’t get it, this is what top-tier wealth looks like! Mr. Chen truly has the power, you just can’t deny it!” Three large donations arrived consecutively, and even the teacher couldn’t help but wipe sweat from his forehead. Liam couldn’t help but gloat, “Go, Dad!” Patrick, basking in the surrounding praise, patted his son’s head. “Son, don’t worry. Your mom said, whatever you want, she’ll support you, no matter the cost. What’s ten million, anyway?!” Yes, what’s ten million? A woman, cheating on me, using my money to bolster her lover’s image, bullying my daughter – she truly had a death wish! I was rather curious to see how far Eleanor would go for this father and son, and just how much money she had embezzled behind my back. Under Patrick’s arrogant gaze, I calmly spoke. “Twenty million!” Everyone’s eyes widened, filled with disbelief. “Is Ivy Zheng’s dad insane? Does he even have twenty million?!” Patrick gnashed his teeth. “Just running your mouth won’t do any good…” He hadn’t even finished his sentence when the robotic female voice, “Ding!” “Twenty million credited!” echoed in everyone’s ears. My smile deepened. “Of course, I don’t mind contributing more to education. Do you want to continue raising your donation? I’m in this until the end!” “Good heavens, Ivy Zheng’s family is not so simple after all! I never would have guessed!” The teacher again wiped sweat from his forehead, an uncontrollable ecstasy on his face as he looked at Patrick and asked, “Mr. Chen, are you going to raise the price again?” Patrick’s cold gaze gradually darkened. He then pulled out his phone and called Eleanor again. A moment later, his eyes and brows regained their triumphant look. He even deliberately unfolded his tri-fold phone, subtly revealing the wallpaper. Someone with sharp eyes immediately noticed. “The woman on the screen is Eleanor Shen, the General Manager of Oceanfront Group! Oh my God, she’s Liam Chen’s mom!” “Look, the photo on the screen is of their family of three. It’s hard to imagine that the aloof goddess, known as a highly educated elite dominating the business world, could show such a sweet smile.” “Then Ivy Zheng’s first place is completely out the window. No matter how rich her dad is, he can’t surpass Oceanfront Group in Ocean City!” Even more well-meaning parents earnestly pulled me aside. “Ivy’s father, don’t push it anymore. Everyone in Ocean City knows how powerful Oceanfront Group is. If you offend them, you won’t even be able to do business, and you’ll lose everything!” Patrick approached me, chin lifted, his eyes full of contempt and scorn. “I originally wanted to keep a low profile, but some people just can’t take a hint. Now you know how powerful we are, don’t you? Even if you have a few stinking bucks, in the eyes of an elite family like ours, it’s not even worth a glance!” I raised an eyebrow, deliberately asking, “Are you saying your wife is Eleanor Shen, the General Manager of Oceanfront Group?” “Dad, that’s clearly…” Ivy almost blurted it out. I quickly pressed her hand, then winked at her. She immediately understood and nodded. Patrick and his son, engrossed in the continuous flattery from the crowd, naturally didn’t notice my daughter and my actions. He haughtily nodded at me. “Scared now, are you?” Then, he smirked maliciously. “You’ve offended me today. But I’m a magnanimous man. If you and your daughter, Ivy Zheng, bow three times to me and my son in front of everyone, I’ll tell my wife not to pursue your transgressions.” “Otherwise, my wife will make your family bankrupt!” “Little girl, you won’t just be out of the robotics competition; you won’t even be able to afford school anymore!” Ivy was furious. “I’ve never seen such a shameless person!” She spat directly onto Patrick’s face. Liam, seeing this, angrily charged at Ivy, intent on hitting her. “I’ll kill you, you little brat! How dare you spit on my dad!” I instantly turned cold. With a swift movement, I pushed him to the ground. A shriek. “Dad! My knee’s busted, it hurts so bad!” Patrick glared at me fiercely. Seeing Liam’s bloody and bruised knee, his eyes were terrifying as he delivered a harsh threat. “This isn’t going to end well today. My wife will be here any minute. Oceanfront Group’s legal team isn’t to be trifled with. You and your daughter can spend the rest of your lives in prison!” I raised an eyebrow. Well, that saved me the trouble of figuring out how to get Eleanor here. The group’s executive assistant and top legal experts were already on their way with divorce papers and Eleanor Shen’s termination letter. Today was the end for this scumbag man and unfaithful woman! Upon hearing that Eleanor was arriving, the sycophants immediately swarmed Patrick and Liam, showering them with concern, eager to curry favor. They continued to mock me, their words growing increasingly vile and morally bankrupt: “Indeed, commoners never know their place. Ms. Shen’s wrath isn’t something little people like you can bear! Get ready to lose everything in compensation!” “Ivy Zheng, you won’t need to go to school anymore. Go pick up trash with your dad!” “Picking up trash won’t be enough. The old one will find a sugar mama, and the young one will learn from him and go after rich men too! That’s how you make quick money!” Just then, a sleek sedan sped up. Someone shouted, “It’s Oceanfront Group’s executive car!” “Ms. Shen truly is a virtuous wife, keeping her husband and son so close to her heart, arriving so quickly! The Zheng father and daughter are completely finished now!” The sycophants unleashed their malice on Ivy and me without restraint, their eyes as if they wanted to devour us alive. Patrick’s face twisted into a grotesque smile, filled with the joy and arrogance of impending revenge. “You pathetic loser, my wife is here. Your and your daughter’s doom has arrived!”

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It was the start of the Easter Weekend, and I’d planned to take my electric car—which I’d customized with a full-size bed in the back—camping. Unexpectedly, my buddy showed up with his wife and kid, insisting on hitching a ride, claiming it was just for a short stretch. I had to use the restroom, so I told them to wait in the car. But when I came out, my car was gone. I immediately called him, no answer. I messaged him on social media, only to find I’d been blocked. About half an hour later, he finally replied, nonchalantly saying, “You can still have fun on your own, we’ll just borrow the car for a few days.” Seeing that message, I couldn’t help but laugh. Then, without hesitation, I called the police and reported: my car had been stolen. 1 “Can you really sleep in this car?” Mark leaned his head into my back seat as I was putting up sun shades on the windows. I’d spent two weeks converting this electric car. The back seats folded flat, and with a custom mattress, it became a perfect queen-size bed, about 53 by 75 inches. I even strung up some fairy lights at the head of the bed; it looked like a cozy little Airbnb. “Yep,” I said. “I’m heading to the coast for Easter, going to lie in the car and watch the stars at night.” Mark’s eyes lit up. Whenever his eyes lit up, I knew it meant trouble. “That’s awesome,” he said. “We were looking to get out of town for Easter too. We’ll just hitch a ride with you.” My heart sank. Hitch a ride? I was looking forward to a solo trip to the coast. What “hitch a ride”? “Where’s your wife?” I asked. “She’ll drive her own car.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Then he added, “Or, actually, we’ll just take yours.” I paused. “You have your own car. Why take mine?” Mark started counting on his fingers. “Your EV saves money, man. Pennies a mile, while a gas car is like fifty cents. It’s just for the first leg of the trip for my family of three. We’ll get off there and do our own thing, won’t hold you up.” “Family of three?” “Yeah, my wife Sarah, and our little Maya. You know Maya, she’s five, cute as a button.” My stomach started to churn. Five-year-old girl, cute? Last time I went to his place, Maya ripped a charm off my bag and put it in her mouth. “My car’s got a bed in the back; it can’t fit that many people,” I tried to demur. “It’ll fit, it’ll fit,” Mark said, pulling open the back door and sliding in. “You drive, I’ll ride shotgun, and Sarah and Maya can sit on the bed in the back. Perfect.” Perfect my ass. That was my bed. But Mark was my college buddy, we’d known each other for seven or eight years. He’d helped me move once, even though it was just two boxes, but a favor’s a favor. “Just for a bit,” Mark said, seeing my hesitation, quickly adding, “We’ll get off at the first rest stop, and you can go enjoy your trip. Saves us paying for tolls too.” I hesitated. Just for a moment. “Alright, fine.” When I said those two words, a voice in my head whispered: You’re going to regret this. But I said them anyway. That evening, I posted on Instagram: “Easter EV camping, my mobile sanctuary.” I included nine photos: the big bed, the fairy lights, the mattress, the sun shades, the storage bins, charging cables, a folding table, a coffee maker, and screenshots of coastal guides. Mark instantly liked it and commented: “Can’t wait!” I stared at those two words for a long time. Something felt off. 2 Easter morning, I arrived an hour early at our meeting point. My trunk was packed to the brim: a box of snacks, six instant meals, eight bottles of drinks, four cans of coffee, two bottles of water, plus a thin blanket and a bag of toiletries. The bed was neatly made, pillows in place, sun shades up. I even put an air freshener by the head of the bed, lemon-scented. I stood by the car, feeling pretty good. Then Mark’s family arrived. Sarah was dragging a suitcase, and Maya was perched on her mom’s shoulders, holding a lollipop. “Here we are!” Mark waved at me from a distance. “Your car’s easy to spot, being white and all.” I said, “Hop in. Front seat for you, back for your wife and kid.” Mark pulled open the back door and froze. “Whoa, your bed is huge,” he said. “Maya, quick, get in.” Maya kicked off her shoes and started climbing up. Before I could even say, “Put your shoes on,” she was already stepping on my pillow. One foot. Two feet. Two gray smudges on the white pillow. “Maya, put your shoes on,” I said. Mark interjected, “It’s fine, it’s fine, kids’ feet aren’t dirty.” I looked at the pillow. White, brand new, just arrived last week. “She’s just a kid, don’t sweat it,” Mark said, smiling and patting my shoulder. I didn’t say anything. Maya bounced on the bed a couple of times, the mattress creaking. Her lollipop fell on the bed, leaving a sticky pink stain. She picked it up and put it back in her mouth. Sarah settled into the back, leaning against the mattress, stretching out her long legs, taking up half the bed. “This EV’s back is actually pretty good,” she said. “Bigger than I thought.” Mark got into the passenger seat and buckled up. “Let’s hit the road!” I started the car and merged onto the highway. Less than ten minutes later, Sarah started talking. “What’s the range on this car?” “Four hundred miles.” “Actual?” “About three-fifty.” “How far can that really get you?” Sarah glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “You’ll need to charge to get to the coast, right?” “There are charging stations along the way; I’ve planned it out.” “What’s the point of planning?” Sarah said. “Listen to me, take I-95. There are more stations at the rest stops there.” I said, “My route has stations too.” “Your route will be jammed,” Sarah said confidently. “What road isn’t jammed on Easter? I check my navigation every day; I know better than you.” I glanced at Mark. Mark said, “Listen to her, she drives a lot, she’s got experience.” I didn’t say anything, continuing to follow my navigation. Maya started singing in the back. A nursery rhyme, just two lines repeated over and over, very loud, with leg-kicking. Thump, thump against the back of my driver’s seat. “Maya, stop kicking,” I said. Maya kept kicking. “Maya!” Mark called out. Maya paused for half a second, then resumed kicking. “She’s just an energetic little girl,” Sarah said. “This car’s still too small. Next time, get an SUV.” I said, “This is my car.” Sarah chuckled. “I know it’s yours. I’m just saying, an SUV would suit you better.” Maya started rummaging through my storage bin. “Dad, what’s this?” “Don’t touch other people’s stuff.” “I’m just looking.” Thump. Something fell to the floor. Through the rearview mirror, I saw Maya holding an unopened bag of chips. “Those are Uncle Alex’s. Put them back,” Mark said. Maya didn’t put them back. She ripped them open directly. CRACK. The chip bag opened. 3 Everything I’d prepped the day before was now torn open. Maya, as if she were in her own home, pulled things out of the storage bin one by one. Chips, cookies, chocolate, Jell-O cups, yogurt, hot dogs, hard-boiled eggs, chicken feet, sunflower seeds, peanuts, French fries, shrimp crackers, mini muffins, Twinkies, Oreos, Ritz crackers… “Dad, I want this.” “Dad, what’s this?” “Dad, this is good.” Mark kept saying, “Don’t touch other people’s stuff,” but he didn’t stop her from touching a single thing. Maya opened three bags of chips. The original flavor was spilled all over the bed, the tomato flavor smeared on the mattress, and the BBQ flavor scattered into the seat crevices. “Uncle Alex, these chips aren’t good,” Maya said, tossing a half-eaten chip back into the bag. I said, “Maya, if you don’t want to eat it, just set it aside. Don’t throw it back in.” Maya glanced at me, then upended the entire bag of chips onto the floor. Mark quickly said, “She didn’t mean to. I’ll buy you more later.” Later. I knew that word all too well. Last time he borrowed fifty bucks from me, he said, “I’ll pay you back later.” It took him two years to pay me back, and when he did, he said, “You’re not short on cash anyway.” Maya started on the next item: instant meals. All six instant meals were opened, seasoning packets scattered all over the bed. Chili oil dripped onto the mattress, staining a large red patch. “Those need water; don’t mess with them,” I said, a little agitated. Sarah picked one up and looked at it. “Instant meals, huh? I’m hungry. Make one?” “Those are for my lunch.” “You can have mine first. I’ll buy you more later.” Mark pulled a granola bar out of his bag and offered it to me. “Here, hold yourself over.” I didn’t take it. That granola bar was a dollar store special. My instant meals were gourmet, eight bucks each. Maya then opened the drinks. All eight bottles were taken out of the box, unscrewed one by one, a sip taken from each, then put down. Half a bottle of cola, half a bottle of Sprite, an unscrewed iced tea bottle was turned upside down directly onto the mattress. “Maya!” I finally raised my voice. Maya froze, her mouth puckered, about to cry. Mark’s face changed. “Don’t yell at her! She’s just a kid.” I said, “My mattress is all wet.” “We’ll wash it when we get back.” “Will it even come clean?” “If it doesn’t, we’ll buy you a new one.” Mark said this without even looking at me. Sarah chimed in at this point, “This coffee is good.” She took my last can of iced coffee from the box. Blue can, imported, five bucks a can, I’d specifically saved it for an afternoon pick-me-up. She pulled the tab, gulp, gulp, and drank two big mouthfuls. “This brand is just okay,” Sarah said, smacking her lips. “Too sweet. Next time I’ll recommend one to you, from Japan, that one’s really good.” I said, “That’s my coffee.” “I know it’s yours. I never said I wouldn’t pay you back. I’ll bring you a whole case later.” Later. Again with “later.” Maya started opening the chicken feet. Pickled pepper flavor. She opened it, dropped it on the mattress, and chili oil smeared another spot. She picked it up with her hand, gnawed on it a couple of times, and then tossed it beside my pillow. “Maya, if you’re going to eat, eat properly. Don’t throw it everywhere,” I said. “She is eating,” Mark said. “When did you get so uptight?” I took a deep breath. Through the rearview mirror, I saw the back seat was a disaster. The mattress was covered in snack crumbs, several chili oil stains, the pillow askew, the pink lollipop stain dried and sticky. The storage bin was half-empty, things scattered everywhere. Maya sat amidst a pile of wrappers, her hands covered in chip crumbs, wiping them on the mattress. Sarah leaned against the bed, her phone blasting short videos, laughing loudly. “Look at this one, LOL, I’m dying.” I glanced at Mark. He was on his phone. “You guys are getting off at the first rest stop, right?” I asked. “Yeah,” Mark said, without looking up. “That rest stop ahead. We’ll get off there.” I looked at the navigation. Thirteen miles left. Thirteen miles, I thought. Just bear with it. I looked at the ruined mattress and the empty can of my iced coffee, and I didn’t say a word. My grip on the steering wheel tightened. Thirteen miles. Almost there. 4 “Here we are, this rest stop!” I checked the navigation. The first rest stop. A sigh of relief. Finally, I could get this burden out of my car. I put on my turn signal and slowly pulled into the rest stop. Mark’s family had been at it for almost two hours in the car. Maya dumped the last bag of chips on the mattress and played with the crumbs. Sarah had her phone’s video volume turned all the way up, laughing nonstop. I parked the car and put on the handbrake. “You guys should gather your things.” I looked back at the rear seat, which was an utter mess. The mattress was covered in snack crumbs, chili oil stains everywhere, drink bottles tipped over. Mark said, “Why don’t you go to the restroom first? We’ll clean up.” I really had to go. I’d been holding it in on the highway. “Okay, but hurry up and pack. I’ll be right back.” I pushed open the car door and walked towards the restroom. The rest stop was crowded. First day of Easter weekend, cars and people everywhere. I waited in line for the restroom, washed my hands, splashed water on my face. It took less than five minutes. I walked back to where I parked. The spot was empty. I froze, thinking I’d remembered the wrong spot. I looked at the cars next to it: a black SUV, a gray minivan. No, this was it. My white EV was gone. I stood there, staring at the empty parking space for three seconds. No way. I pulled out my phone and called Mark. Ring—ring—ring— No answer. I called a second time. Ring—ring—ring— Still no answer. I called Sarah’s phone. “The number you have dialed is currently switched off.” Switched off? I called Maya’s smart watch. Mark had bought his daughter a kids’ watch that could make calls. “The number you have dialed is currently busy.” Busy? I stood in the rest stop parking lot, phone to my ear, listening to the repeated rings. The May sun was quite strong. Cars everywhere. People everywhere. But I didn’t know a single soul. I called Mark again. Third time. Fourth time. Fifth time. All went unanswered. I opened my messaging app. “Mark, where are you guys?” Sent. No reply. “Sarah, where did you guys drive the car?” Sent. No reply. “Why can’t I reach Maya’s watch?” Sent. No reply. I checked the message status. Sent, but unread. Had they blocked me? Or just not seen it? I started searching the rest stop. I walked a full circle around the parking lot, nothing. Walked to the gas station, seven or eight cars in line, but no white EV. Walked to the restaurant, lots of people, but no Mark, no Sarah, no Maya. I stood at the restaurant entrance, palms sweating. They wouldn’t just leave me. Impossible. I was the car owner. It was my car. How could they? I pulled out my phone again, this time not calling, but sending voice messages. “Mark, where are you? Stop messing around.” Sent. No reply. “Sarah, answer your phone. What’s going on?” Sent. No reply. I stood in the rest stop, the sun burning my neck. An older lady next to me glanced at me and asked, “Young man, what’s wrong?” I said, “My family drove away with my car.” She said, “Call them.” I said, “They’re not answering.” The lady shook her head and walked away. 5 I stood at the rest stop for ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes. My phone remained silent. I kept checking my messages; all were unread. I started to consider all possibilities. Maybe Maya was sleepy, and they drove a bit further to a quiet spot to pull over? Maybe the rest stop was too noisy, so they moved to another spot to wait for me? Maybe Sarah thought it was too crowded here and drove ahead to the gas station? But I knew none of these were right. Because my phone was in my hand. If they were looking for me, they would just call. They didn’t. Twenty-one minutes. I called Mark. Still no answer. Twenty-two minutes. I called Sarah. Still switched off. Twenty-five minutes. I called Maya’s watch. Still busy. At the twenty-eighth minute, my messaging app suddenly chimed. Mark had replied. Not text, but a voice message. I tapped it. Mark’s voice came through, cheerful, as if nothing had happened. “Oh, sorry, Maya said she was sleepy, so we just left first. You can just find a place to chill on your own, it’s not like it costs much. We’ll just borrow the car for a few days, bring it back when we’re done.” After listening to that voice message, I froze. Borrow it for a few days? Bring it back when they’re done? Was this something a person would say? I immediately sent a voice message back: “You guys are stealing my car.” Sent. This time Mark replied quickly, typing. “Don’t be so petty, man. We’re buddies.” We’re buddies. You call this being buddies? I called him directly. It rang twice, then he picked up. “Mark, bring the car back.” “Oh, come on, we’re already on the highway. How are we supposed to turn back?” “Get off the highway now, turn around and come back.” “Turning around is such a hassle, it’ll take hours. Just let us borrow it for a few days, okay?” “I didn’t agree.” “Didn’t you tell us to get off at the first rest stop? We’re already here, at the rest stop you mentioned. We just didn’t get out of the car, that’s all.” I took a deep breath. “You guys promised to get off.” “Maya was sleepy, you know. The kid’s welfare is important. You’re alone, you’re fine. Just find a place to stay.” “All my stuff is in the car.” “Your stuff isn’t worth much. I’ll replace it later.” “What about my car? Is the car not worth much either?” Mark paused on his end, then said, “Don’t be so hot-headed. We’re just borrowing it for a few days, it’s not like we’re not giving it back.” “When are you giving it back?” “When we’re done having fun, at the end of Easter weekend, I guess.” End of Easter weekend? Today was May 29th; there were still four days left in the holiday. “Give it back now.” “What’s wrong with you?” Mark’s voice changed. “I told you Maya was sleepy, and you’re insisting we get off the highway. Are you sick or something?” “Stealing my car and calling me sick?” “It’s not stealing! I’m just driving it!” “You didn’t have my permission.” “Maya was sleepy! Don’t you understand a kid being sleepy?” “That’s your problem. Now, drive the car to the nearest rest stop and wait for the police.” “Are you insane? Calling the police on your own friend? Do you have any conscience?” “You steal my car, and you’re talking about conscience?” Mark suddenly started crying on the other end, a full-blown wail. “Officer, you be the judge! I just drove my friend’s car for a bit, and he wants to arrest me! Is there really such a person?” The officer took the phone back. “Sir, please drive the vehicle to the nearest rest stop and cooperate with the investigation. Driving a vehicle without the owner’s permission is a potential legal offense.” “I haven’t broken the law! He agreed!” “The owner now says he did not agree.” “He’s lying!” “Then please come back for a face-to-face confrontation.” Mark fell silent on the other end. After a few seconds, the call ended. The officer called again, but it was switched off. The officer looked at me. “They’ve turned their phones off.” I said, “I know. That’s just how they are.” The officer made a few more notes in his notebook, then picked up the desk phone and made a call. “Hello, command center? This is I-95 Rest Area here, we have a motor vehicle theft case. License plate [XXX], white EV [Make/Model], currently located on I-95 North, about ninety miles from here. Please assist in interception at the next toll booth.” After hanging up, the officer turned to me. “Please have a seat. We’re handling it.” I sat in the chair in the police station, looking at the large words “Serve the People” posted on the wall. My phone vibrated. I looked down. Not Mark. It was a notification from the Tesla app. “Vehicle powered off.” They had stopped the car.

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I fought my way up from nothing, clawing a name for myself in my field before most people my age had even started. To the world, I am a man of integrity, a respected figure. But no one values the reputation I’ve bled for more than I do. Which is why it’s so damning that I’ve developed… feelings for one of my students. When she stands before me, earnestly reporting on her project’s progress, her lips parting with each word, a single, forbidden thought seizes my mind: What would it feel like to kiss her? But a secret of this magnitude could never stay hidden from my wife. She noticed the change in me. And then, with an unnerving calm, she asked, “Do you want to sleep with her?” Before I could even process the question, she delivered a second blow, one that left me reeling. “I can help you.” Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through me. I didn’t have the courage to act on this twisted infatuation. 1 I stared at her, utterly stunned. My wife, Audrey, simply adjusted her glasses, her expression as placid and scholarly as ever. “Don’t look at me like that, Julian. Scientific studies have shown that romantic love only has a shelf life of about seven years.” “Lifelong monogamy is, by its very nature, anti-human.” “Besides, for a man of your stature, having a… confidante… is perfectly normal.” “What’s the catch?” I asked, my eyes fixed on her. She never did anything without a price. Audrey slid a bank card across the table. “Tomorrow, deposit one million dollars into this account. I have a use for it.” I didn’t hesitate for long. A million dollars was nothing to me now. The next day, Audrey invited the student to our home. Her name was Anna. She had wide, doe-like eyes that sparkled with an innocent light. Anna greeted us both with a respectful deference, then her eyes began to wander around the room. A blush crept up her cheeks. “Is… is Finn not home?” she asked, her voice soft. The girl’s crush was written all over her face. And Finn… Finn was my son. A hot spike of anger shot through me. The woman I wanted was in love with my own son. Just then, Audrey returned with a fruit platter. “Finn went to see the Northern Lights with some friends,” she explained to Anna, her voice warm and motherly. “But with the holidays coming up, the house feels so empty. We were hoping you could keep us old folks company. You don’t mind, do you?” Anna quickly assured her she didn’t. Audrey was an exceptional cook. The table was laden with an extravagant feast. Throughout the meal, she kept pouring wine for Anna, who was too polite to refuse. Eventually, the girl couldn’t drink anymore. “I think I’ve had a bit too much,” she said, her words slightly slurred. “I don’t think I can make it back to the dorm.” Audrey, ever the expert on a young girl’s heart, said, “Oh, don’t you worry about that. You can stay the night here.” “Finn will be back tomorrow. He can give you a ride.” Anna’s face flushed a deep crimson. She didn’t object. In fact, she seemed to be deliberately trying to get drunk. The knot in my stomach tightened. She was still just a naive young girl. It didn’t take long before she was slumped over the table, fast asleep. I glared at my wife. “You knew she was in love with Finn.” Audrey didn’t answer. Instead, she lifted the hem of Anna’s skirt, revealing a pale, slender calf. Her hand stroked the smooth skin. “So young,” she said with a cold sneer. “Like a flower bud, ready to bloom.” “So tender you could practically squeeze water from her skin. No wonder my husband and my son are so bewitched.” I stared at her, my voice low. “So the million dollars was only part of it.” “The real reason is you want to keep her away from Finn.” Audrey took a sip of her wine. “Julian, you and I both crawled our way out of the gutter. No one knows the struggle better than we do. Our son will stand on our shoulders and climb higher, reach for things we never could.” “He will not marry some country girl who survives on financial aid, a girl who can’t even afford to go home for the holidays.” “Marriage is a tool for consolidating class, and I will not be careless with it.” Finally, her plan became clear. Helping me get Anna was one thing. More importantly, she wanted to destroy any chance of a future between her and our son. As she spoke, she gestured for me to help her carry Anna to a bedroom. The moment my hands touched Anna’s arm, her delicate, youthful scent washed over me, intoxicating. I intended to take her to the guest room. But Audrey walked straight toward our master bedroom. She shot me a sharp look. “Has lust addled your brain? If we put her in our room, we can say she was drunk and stumbled in by mistake. How would you explain her being in the guest room?” Her accusation stung, but my mind was already consumed by Anna. Her flawless skin, her intoxicating fragrance… it was all I could think about. I didn’t have the energy to argue. When we got to the bedroom, I expected Audrey to leave. Instead, she stayed. And then, one by one, she began to unbutton Anna’s blouse. I grabbed her hand, shocked. “What are you doing?” Audrey looked at me with derision. “Have you been on your pedestal for so long you’ve forgotten the laws of the jungle?” “If you sleep with her tonight, do you really think you can rely on her morals to keep her quiet forever? Don’t be a fool.” She stared at me, her voice a low, sharp whisper. “Never forget, Julian. Blackmail is a far more effective silencer than morality.” With that, she ripped the remaining clothes from Anna’s body. In an instant, Anna was completely bare before me. I swallowed hard. Audrey pulled out her phone and began to meticulously photograph every part of Anna’s body. When she was finished, she looked at me with satisfaction. “Before I decided to help you, I did a thorough background check. Her family is dirt poor. They’ve sacrificed everything to send her to university, hoping she’ll be their ticket out.” “They love her, of course. But they love their reputation more. The phrase ‘pride comes before a fall’ exists for a reason.” “If she makes a scene, we can threaten to print these photos and plaster them all over her hometown.” I stared at my wife, a chill running down my spine. Yes. After years of success, we had both softened, tamed our baser instincts. I had almost forgotten that at our core, we were both predators. As we stood there, a video call came in from Finn. Audrey and I exchanged a look and walked out to the living room. She glanced in the mirror, composed her face into a warm smile, and answered the call. On the screen, Finn was grinning under the aurora borealis. He showed us the vast, beautiful landscape, promising to take us with him next year. Just before he hung up, he said, “Everyone here is so jealous that I have you guys as parents. Mom, Dad, I love you. You’ll always be my heroes.” After the call, Audrey began to organize the photos, already drafting a statement. As a professor with degrees in both law and literature, she was a master of words, particularly skilled at this kind of damage control. I, on the other hand, couldn’t wait any longer. I went back to the bedroom. Looking at Anna’s peaceful, sleeping face, I leaned in without a moment’s hesitation. Anna was a delicate flower, and tonight, she would bloom for me. With that thought, I threw back the covers. My hand began to wander downwards. Halfway through, Anna stirred, her eyes fluttering open. I held my breath, quickly turning off the lights. In the dim moonlight, I saw her blink a few times. I expected her to scream, to fight. But instead, her arms wrapped around my neck. “Finn,” she whispered, her voice thick with sleep. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.” Seeing the shy, adoring look on her face, my own gaze darkened. It was true. I looked a lot like my son. And years of a comfortable life had kept me well-preserved. In the dark, it would be easy to mistake us. But to have her in my bed, whispering another man’s name… it infuriated me. Even if that man was my son. My tenderness vanished. And then… With a small, sharp cry from Anna, I took her completely. Afterwards, I looked at the stain of blood on the sheets. I pressed a light kiss to her forehead. Such a pure, clean girl. Not like my wife, a sullied, used thing. When Anna woke up the next morning, she was huddled in a corner of the bed, clutching the sheets to her chest. Her eyes were wide with disbelief and brimming with tears. “Why?” she choked out. “Why did this happen?” I was trying to think of an explanation when Audrey pushed the door open. Her expression was grave, a mask of righteous indignation that could turn black into white. She looked at Anna. “Anna, this happened last night while I was in the shower. By the time I came out, it was too late. I sat in the living room all night, thinking.” “Why would a student of mine, a brilliant young woman I considered a future daughter-in-law, climb into my husband’s bed?”

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During a routine inspection at St. Jude Medical Center, I went to the cafeteria for lunch. After picking up an extra meal for my sister Clara, who interns there, I overheard whispers as I walked toward a quiet corner. Someone recognized Dr. Norris from Dental and wondered about the new person sitting with her. Before I could react, a furious young doctor rushed over and punched me in the face. “Who do you think you are, pretty boy? Trying to flirt with my girl?” he yelled. My sister panicked, grabbing his arm. “Jacob, stop! It’s not what it looks like!” But he shoved her away, gripped my wrist, and insisted, “We’re going to the Chief of Staff!” I tried to explain. “You’re mistaken. We’re just friends.” He scoffed. “Don’t lie. Come on!” I sighed inwardly, blaming my youthful face. He dragged me into the Chief’s office, shouting, “Mom! This new intern is already hitting on someone’s girlfriend! This guy has no ethics—fire him now!” The Chief turned, her expression dark, and snapped at me, “Which department are you from? Give me your supervisor’s number. You’re fired, effective immediately.” I couldn’t help a faint smile. Calmly, I replied, “I’d be glad to give you the number. I’m just not sure you’d dare call it.” 1 Monday morning, eight-thirty. I pulled up to St. Jude Medical Center. My mission today was an undercover inspection. The County Health Commission had received several complaints about this place: overcharging, ghost employees, substandard equipment. The office wanted me to lead a team down here to investigate. My name is Alexander Stone, Deputy Director of the Medical Oversight Division at the County Health Commission. By rights, I should have walked in with my badge prominently displayed. But for an undercover visit, discretion was key. Today, I’d deliberately dressed down in a white tee, jeans, and styled my short hair casually. A subtle pin-style body cam was attached to my shirt. With this face, I could easily pass for a college student. After parking, I headed straight in. Just inside the entrance, I immediately spotted a stack of cardboard boxes blocking the fire escape. Snap. Photo taken. Further in, a fire extinguisher on a hallway corner had its pressure gauge in the red zone. Snap. Another photo. The outpatient lobby was packed, but only two registration windows were open. Three others sat dark. A nurse at the reception desk was engrossed in her phone. An elderly gentleman approached her, holding a form and asking for directions, but she didn’t even look up. “Third floor, left.” The old man, hard of hearing, asked again. The nurse’s voice sharpened with impatience. “Third floor! Left! Can’t you hear me?” The old man shuffled away, looking embarrassed. I documented all of it. Plenty of issues. But no rush today. First, gather information, collect evidence. I’d write the report back at the office, then deal with it officially. I took the stairs to the second floor, glancing specifically at the Dental Department. My sister, Clara Stone, was interning there. She’d just graduated from State Medical University this year and was assigned here for her residency. She’d called me earlier, complaining about the terrible cafeteria food and asking me to bring her something if I had a chance. Perfect timing. I didn’t go into the department to disturb her, opting instead to walk the entire building first. The inpatient ward wasn’t much better in terms of hygiene. A persistent, musty smell hung in the corridors, which even the disinfectant couldn’t quite mask. A notice posted in the pharmacy window was so faded it was almost illegible. Everything was photographed and recorded. Around eleven-thirty, I sent Clara a text. “Where’s the cafeteria? Your brother’s bringing food.” She replied instantly: “First floor, east end. What are you doing here?” “Work trip, just passing through. Keep it on the down-low.” “Got it, big bro.” When I arrived at the cafeteria, lunch had just started, so it wasn’t too crowded. I got two meals: a braised pork combo and sweet and sour ribs. Clara loves meat. Carrying both trays, I found a corner table and sat down. A few minutes later, Clara, in her white lab coat, came scurrying over. “Alex!” She sat down and immediately started shoveling food into her mouth. “Slow down, no one’s going to steal it.” “Only forty minutes for lunch break, gotta be quick.” Her voice was muffled by food. “This hospital only gives residents forty minutes for lunch?” “Yeah, Dr. Patton set that rule. Residents and interns can’t go over their lunch time.” “Which Dr. Patton?” “The big boss here, Emily Patton.” I filed that name away. “How are you settling in?” Clara paused, her chopsticks hovering. “It’s… okay, I guess.” “What do you mean ‘okay’? Spill it.” “Well… some of the senior staff in the department are a bit difficult. They dump all the work on the residents and then make us take the fall if anything goes wrong.” “Any specific instances?” “Last week, a patient complained about a treatment plan. It was clearly the attending’s decision, but I ended up having to write a reflection report.” I put down my chopsticks. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “What’s the point? It’s like this for residents in every hospital, isn’t it?” I was about to respond when I heard two nurses at the next table whispering. “See that? Isn’t that the new Dr. Stone from Dental?” “Yeah, who’s the guy eating with her? Haven’t seen him before.” “No idea, he looks pretty young. Boyfriend, maybe?” “Don’t even joke. Isn’t she dating Dr. Patton’s son?” “You never know. If Jacob finds out, she’s in deep trouble…” I didn’t pay it much mind, going back to my food. Clara, however, heard them and her face visibly changed. “Alex, eat fast. Finish up and get out of here.” “What’s wrong?” “Nothing, just… my boyfriend has a bit of a temper.” “Your boyfriend?” “Yeah, Dr. Patton’s son, Jacob Miller. He’s a doctor here too.” “You’re dating and you didn’t tell the family?” “It’s not that serious yet.” “The Chief of Staff’s son, huh?” I raised an eyebrow. “Good for you, kiddo.” “What? He’s the one who chased me.” “Alright, alright.” I didn’t press further. But I made a mental note. The Chief of Staff’s son working in the hospital she manages… wasn’t that a conflict of interest? I’d have to check if he went through proper hiring procedures. I’d just finished my last bite when I heard a rapid series of footsteps at the cafeteria entrance. Clatter, clatter, hurrying. Clara’s chopsticks clattered onto the table. “Oh, no.” Before I could react, a young man in a white lab coat burst through the crowd. Early twenties, short hair, a scowl on his face. He stared at me for two seconds. Then he turned to Clara. “Who?” Just one word. Everyone eating nearby started to look over. I put down my chopsticks and stood up, intending to explain. “Hello, I’m—” Before I could finish. Whack! A fist slammed directly into my left cheek. The entire cafeteria went silent. My face burned, and my ears rang. Jacob stood with his arms crossed, pointing a finger at my nose. “Which department are you from? You’re just a little intern, got some nerve, huh? Trying to steal someone’s girlfriend?” Clara frantically grabbed his arm. “Jacob! Are you out of your mind? He’s—” “You shut up!” Jacob shoved her hand away, his eyes wide with fury. “I’ve heard rumors about guys trying to hit on you, and today I finally caught one!” I clutched my face and took a deep breath. “You’ve got it wrong. We’re not involved like that.” “Not involved like that? You bought her food, you’re sitting at the same table, you’re laughing and joking around, and you’re telling me you’re not involved like that?” “I’m her—” “Don’t bother! I don’t want to hear your made-up stories!” The crowd in the cafeteria grew larger, some people pulling out their phones to record. A few nurses whispered in the back. “Oh my god, Jacob actually hit him.” “Who’s that guy? I can’t believe it.” “He’s got some serious guts, messing with the Chief of Staff’s son.” “He’s toast.” Hearing these comments, Jacob straightened up even more. He grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging in painfully. “Let’s go! We’re going straight to the Chief of Staff!” “Let go of me first,” I said, my voice calm. “Let go? If I don’t get this sorted out today, I’m changing my last name!” He started dragging me out. Clara ran after us, blocking our way. “Jacob! Just calm down! He’s really my brother! His name is Alexander, he’s—” “I don’t care what he’s called!” Jacob flung her aside. “Don’t try to fool me with some made-up name! Your brother? Do you think I’m three years old? How come I’ve never seen your brother? You told me you were an only child here!” Clara choked. I understood. This girl had completely omitted mentioning her brother to him for the sake of her relationship. I shot her a glare over my shoulder. Clara shrunk her neck. “I… I did say I was here alone before…” “Hear that?” Jacob sneered. “Can’t even keep your own story straight, and you’re still defending this pretty boy?” He was surprisingly strong, dragging me out of the cafeteria. People in the hallway quickly made way, their gazes filled with sympathy. As a male doctor brushed past, he murmured, “This kid’s finished. Cross Jacob, and you can forget about making it in this hospital.” I was hauled along the corridor, past the emergency room entrance. Several interns poked their heads out to gawk. One female intern recognized Jacob and quickly ducked back inside. As we reached the elevators, I finally spoke. “Shouldn’t you figure out the situation before you start throwing punches? What if you hit the wrong person?” Jacob’s hand paused on the elevator button. He turned and glared at me. “Hit the wrong person? With that face, that age, hovering around my girlfriend, you think hitting you was wrong?” “Have you ever seen a thirty-two-year-old intern?” “Thirty-two?” He looked me up and down. “Who are you trying to fool? Look at that face, you’re barely twenty-something.” “I told you, you’re mistaken.” “Enough talk! You can explain it all in the Chief of Staff’s office!” The elevator doors opened, and he pushed me in. Clara squeezed in after us, her face ashen. Two other doctors in white coats were already in the elevator; seeing the commotion, they quietly retreated to a corner. On the sixth floor, the Chief of Staff’s office was at the end of the corridor. Jacob dragged me forward with big strides, his shoes echoing loudly through the entire floor. As we passed the administrative office, several staff members peered out of their windows. A middle-aged man whispered, “Here we go again. Jacob’s causing trouble again.” “Who’d he get this time?” “Don’t recognize him, looks new.” The Chief of Staff’s office door was flung open by Jacob. The door crashed against the wall, making the teacup lid on the desk clatter. Inside, a woman in her fifties, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and with her hair impeccably styled, was reading documents. Emily Patton. Chief of Staff of St. Jude Medical Center. And Jacob’s mother. “Mom!” Jacob let go of me and rushed to the desk. Emily Patton looked up, a frown on her face. “What is it? What’s all this ruckus during working hours?” “Mom, look at this guy!” Jacob turned and pointed at me. “A new intern, running off to the cafeteria during work hours to hit on someone else’s girlfriend – my girlfriend! Do we really need someone like this in our hospital?” Emily Patton followed his finger to me. I stood in the doorway, my left cheek still a little red, but my expression calm. “Which department are you from?” Emily Patton asked. I remained silent. “Mom! He’s not from our hospital, he must be some outsider who snuck in! This kind of morally bankrupt man needs to be reported to security!” Emily Patton waved him quiet, turning her gaze back to me. “I’ll ask you one more time. Which department are you from? What’s your name?” Clara squeezed in from behind. “Dr. Patton—” “It’s Chief of Staff!” Emily Patton shot her a glance. Clara swallowed. “Chief of Staff Patton, this is a misunderstanding. He’s really my brother, not some—” “Your brother?” Jacob cut her off. “You said you were the only one from your family in this city. Now suddenly a brother pops up? Do you take me for a fool?” “I… I didn’t mention him before, but he really is my brother!” “You shut up.” Emily Patton’s words silenced Clara. Emily Patton stood up, walked around her desk, and stood before me, looking down. “Regardless of who you are, causing trouble in my hospital and disrupting my son’s work and life, I have to deal with this.” I looked up at her. “Chief of Staff, it was your son who publicly slapped me. Who exactly is causing trouble here?” Emily Patton’s eyelid twitched. “He hit you? Jacob, you laid hands on him?” Jacob retorted, his voice full of self-righteousness. “He was hitting on my girlfriend first! What’s wrong with me hitting him?” Emily Patton sighed, but clearly had no intention of reprimanding her son. She turned back to me. “I don’t care what the situation is between you two. If you’re an intern, give me your internship certificate and your attending’s contact information. If you’re an outsider who snuck into our hospital, I’ll call security right now to have you escorted out.” “I’m not an intern.” “Not an intern?” Emily Patton adjusted her glasses. “Then what is your identity?” Jacob interjected, “He must be some outsider clinging to Clara! Mom, call security now!” “Hold on.” Emily Patton stopped him. She scrutinized me again. My white tee, jeans, and ordinary canvas bag indeed didn’t draw much attention. “What exactly is your identity?” “Let me ask you a question first,” I said. “What right do you have to ask me questions?” “Is your son working in a hospital under your jurisdiction through the proper hiring process?” The air in the office froze. Emily Patton’s face changed. Jacob paused for a second, then immediately jumped up. “What are you implying? You’re an outsider, what business is it of yours where I work?” “Exactly, Chief of Staff. Are your son’s employment documents, qualifications, and recruitment process all in order?” Emily Patton stared at me, her Adam’s apple bobbing. “Who exactly are you?” “Didn’t you just ask me for my supervisor’s number?” “Yes, give me your supervisor’s number! No – answer my question first!” “No, let’s just make the call.” I pulled out my phone from my pocket, scrolled through my contacts, and found a number. “Dial this number, and you’ll know exactly who I am.” I turned the phone screen towards her. Emily Patton’s pupils contracted as she looked at the number. The contact’s name was four simple words. She recognized those four words. “What’s wrong, Mom? Dial it!” Jacob urged. Emily Patton didn’t move. Her hand began to tremble. 2 No one spoke in the office. Jacob waited for his mother to speak for a long time, but she remained silent. He walked over and peered at the phone screen himself. “Director… Dawson?” He read out the contact name. Director Dawson. Head of the County Health Commission, Arthur Dawson. Jacob’s brain clearly wasn’t processing things as fast as his mother’s. “Who’s Director Dawson, Mom?” Emily Patton ignored him, her eyes fixed on me. “You’re with the Health Commission?” I put my phone away and pulled a blue leather ID case from my canvas bag. I flipped it open and handed it to her. County Health and Wellness Commission, Medical Oversight Division, Deputy Director. My photo was there, embossed with the red seal. Emily Patton took the ID, looked at it three times. Her hand was still shaking. “Deputy… Deputy Director Stone?” Her voice had changed completely. “Not Director, Deputy Director,” I corrected. Jacob still hadn’t caught on. “Mom, what Deputy Director? Isn’t he an intern?” Emily Patton turned to look at him, her expression unreadable – her mouth agape, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t. “I am the Deputy Director of the Medical Oversight Division at the County Health Commission,” I repeated to him directly. “I’m here today to conduct an unannounced inspection of your hospital. That slap you gave me? Many people in the cafeteria recorded it, and my body cam recorded the whole thing too.” Jacob’s face visibly drained of all color. “You… what did you say?” “I said, I’m here to investigate your hospital. You publicly slapped me today, and the handprint is still on my face. Want to take a look?” I turned my left cheek towards him. Five red, distinct finger marks. Jacob took a step back, bumping into a chair. “No… impossible. You’re so young, how could you be a Deputy Director…” “Thirty-two years old, serving as a Section Chief level Deputy Director. One of the youngest Section Chiefs in the city. You can check the promotion notice online from last year.” Jacob looked at Clara. She stood in the doorway, head bowed, barely daring to breathe. “So he really is your brother?” Clara nodded. “I told you several times, but you wouldn’t believe me.” Jacob’s legs gave out, and he sank onto the chair. Emily Patton handed my ID back, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Deputy Director Stone… this is all our fault… Jacob is young and foolish…” “Young and foolish is an excuse for hitting people?” “No, no, that’s not what I meant…” “Chief Patton, let me ask you, did you receive the rectification notice sent by the Health Commission last month?” Emily Patton paused. “What… what rectification notice?” “The one concerning fire safety, medical equipment annual inspections, and outpatient service quality. Three copies were sent: one official hard copy, two by email. Are you telling me you didn’t receive it?” Emily Patton’s lips moved. “I… I had the office manager handle it.” “And the results of that handling? The rectification report?” “That… should be in the process…” “I walked through your hospital this morning. Fire exits blocked with clutter, expired fire extinguishers, less than forty percent of outpatient windows open. Reception nurses on their phones during shifts, a strange odor in the inpatient ward corridors, illegible notices in the pharmacy. Is this what you mean by ‘in the process’?” With each point I made, Emily Patton’s face grew paler. “These issues… I’m really not aware of them…” “You’re not aware? You’re the Chief of Staff, and you’re not aware?” Emily Patton opened her mouth, but no words came out. A crowd had gathered at the office door, I hadn’t even noticed when. Several administrative staff, and a few department heads passing by, were all peering inside. A middle-aged man whispered, “It’s the Health Commission, an undercover inspection.” The rumor spread like wildfire. In less than five minutes, the entire floor knew. News traveled faster through the hospital than any official notice. Before I even left the Chief of Staff’s office, my phone rang. “Alex, this is Sarah from Oversight. Director Dawson wants me to ask about the situation on site. Do you need us to send people over?” “Yes, send them. Bring Lily with you, and officially file today’s inspection records.” “Understood, arranging it now.” I hung up and looked at Emily Patton. “Chief Patton, by regulation, after an undercover inspection, I need to write a formal oversight report. Regarding the issues I just mentioned, what do you have to say now?” Emily Patton stood behind her desk, gripping the back of her chair, her knuckles white. “Deputy Director Stone, some things… could we sit down and discuss them first?” “Fine, let’s discuss.” I pulled up a chair and sat. Jacob was still in the adjacent chair, hunched over, not making a sound. “First issue,” I said, opening my phone’s notepad. “Your son, Jacob Miller, is a doctor at this hospital. Through what channels was he hired?” Emily Patton hesitated. “Normal public recruitment.” “Public recruitment? Can you provide the recruitment announcement, written exam scores, interview records, and public notice document?” “Those… HR should have them archived.” “Then please have HR send the materials over now.” Emily Patton picked up the desk phone and dialed an internal number. “Is that Jane? Please send Jacob Miller’s personnel file to my office. Yes, I need it now.” There was a clear pause on the other end, then an affirmative. While waiting for the materials, I asked the second question. “I’d like to see your hospital’s resident and intern management policies. Especially the lunch break regulation – forty minutes. Who set that?” “That… was formulated based on the hospital’s actual situation.” “The Ministry of Health’s regulations on standardized residency training clearly state that residents’ work-rest schedules should ensure adequate rest. Do you think a forty-minute lunch break is reasonable?” “I’ll have the Medical Affairs Department look into it…” “Third question. Last week, a resident in the Dental Department was asked to write a reflection report for a medical dispute involving her attending physician. Are you aware of this?” Emily Patton paused, glancing at Clara, who was still standing in the doorway. “This… I’m not familiar with the specific situation.” “There’s quite a lot you’re not familiar with.” Two knocks on the door, and a woman in glasses entered, holding an archive envelope. “Chief Patton, here are the materials you requested.” She placed the envelope on the desk and left. I took it, opened it, and flipped through the documents inside. Copy of recruitment announcement – check. Written exam scores – check, ranked third. Interview records – check. Public Notice Document – check. It all looked very complete. I looked closely at the dates. Recruitment announcement issue date, March 15th. Application deadline, March 18th. Three days. “Chief Patton, for this public recruitment for a doctor position, from announcement to deadline, was it only three days?” “We were in a bit of a rush at the time.” “So rushed that you only gave three days? Standard public recruitment usually has at least a two-week announcement period, and you gave three days.” “The department urgently needed staff…” “How many applicants?” Emily Patton didn’t speak. I flipped to the back; the applicant statistics form stated: four applicants. One was hired out of four. “Four applicants, and your son was hired. Chief Patton, do you honestly think this procedure is compliant?” Jacob finally couldn’t sit still and stood up. “I got in on my own merits! Third in the written exam, first in the interview!” “Third in the written exam out of four people,” I said, flipping further. “Who were the interview panelists?” Interview panel list: Dr. Susan Chen, Head of Medical Affairs; Mr. David Wong, HR Manager; Deputy Chief of Staff, Dr. Robert Lee. “Your mother didn’t participate in the interview, but who holds the power to appoint the interview panelists?” Jacob fell silent. I closed the archive envelope. “I’ll keep this file for now.” “Deputy Director Stone—” Emily Patton took a step forward. “One more question.” I stood up. “Your son publicly slapped me in the cafeteria today. At least thirty to forty people witnessed it. Regardless of his reasons, striking someone in the workplace, how do you intend to handle this?” Emily Patton looked at Jacob. Jacob bit his lip. “Jacob, apologize to Deputy Director Stone.” “An apology is enough?” I said. “Then… what do you suggest?” “It’s not up to me to suggest. Your hospital has an employee management policy; handle it according to that policy. Also, there’s video evidence from bystanders and my body cam recording. If I decide to pursue legal action, your son is looking at assault charges.” Jacob’s face completely lost its color. “I… I didn’t know you were from the Health Commission… I thought you were…” “You thought I was an intern, so it was okay to hit me? Interns can be slapped around by you?” He couldn’t speak. Just then, there was a commotion at the office door. My colleagues had arrived. Sarah had come with Lily. Both carried briefcases, nodded to me upon entering, then each took out a notebook and a voice recorder. “Sarah, take Lily to the fire escape and the inpatient ward. Double-check all the issues I photographed this morning, and document them with photos. Lily, stay here with me to handle the administrative materials.” “Understood.” Sarah took Lily out. Emily Patton stood behind the desk, hands in her pockets, lips pressed together, silent. I turned to her. “Chief Patton, next, I need to review your hospital’s financial statements, equipment procurement lists, personnel hiring records, and patient complaint logs for the past year. Please arrange for someone to prepare them.” “Now?” “Now.”

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It’s been three years since I left this world. My ex-girlfriend, Cara, now an A-list actress, was in the middle of a paranormal investigation livestream. Her camera accidentally swept across my tombstone. Engraved on it was a QR code next to the words, “A Final Farewell.” When Cara saw it, her face twisted in disgust. She turned to the camera with a cold sneer. “Blake, you were the one who insisted on breaking up. What is this? Another pathetic stunt to get my attention?” she said. She then told her audience that she had moved on, that she was in love with her co-star, Owen. In the live chat, comments flooded in, calling me the obsessive, clingy ex who couldn’t let go. Then, one comment caught everyone’s eye: “Has anyone scanned the QR code? I think… I think he might actually be gone.” 1 Seeing that comment, Cara’s famously cool and collected expression hardened with even more annoyance. “He’ll do anything to get under my skin, won’t he?” The chat lit up with jokes: [The only person who can crack Cara’s ice-queen facade is her crazy ex.] [Seriously. He’s the one who dumped her. Now that she’s famous, he crawls out of the woodwork every chance he gets.] [Yeah, I heard he sent her letters and gifts just last week. No way he’s dead.] Amid the audience’s skepticism, a member of the production crew scanned the code, and a pre-recorded video began to play on the main feed. The first shot was of me, holding a medical report confirming a cancer diagnosis. I let out a forced, easygoing sigh. “Hey. Today is day one of my diagnosis. It’s also day one of our breakup. Happy breakup day, Cara!” “Forgive me for being so abrupt about it. The last thing I want is to drag you down with me.” I was wearing a crisp shirt, trying to look sharp and handsome, but it couldn’t hide the deathly pallor of my skin. “Let me guess, you’re heartbroken, right? Career in a slump and getting dumped at the same time… that’s gotta suck.” “But hey, you’ll bounce back. I know you will.” As the video played, my predictions were proven true. Someone in the chat had dug up Cara’s old social media posts. In the days following our breakup, she had posted a string of bleak, melancholic updates. The discovery that the industry’s resident ice queen had once been so vulnerable and deeply in love sent her trending for days. Back then, Cara had quickly hidden those old posts, leaving only one public statement: [I have someone better by my side now.] At the time, her historical drama had just become a massive hit. Her co-star was the industry’s rising heartthrob, Owen. He had even liked that post. Cara did seem to move on quickly, much to her fans’ relief. “But don’t worry,” my video-self continued. “I have no intention of bothering you. I just wanted to leave something behind.” “I’ve never asked you for anything, ever. But just this once… let me be selfish.” As I said those words, my voice caught, a choked sob breaking through. The confident, charming man from the start of the video dissolved, replaced by a fragile, lost little boy. Perhaps not wanting anyone to see me so exposed, I abruptly cut the video. [Date: April 9, 2019. Weather: Overcast. Hate lasts longer than love.] “Day two. It’s an overcast day. Perfect for feeling miserable, right?” I was in my pajamas, holding my phone up to show Cara’s sad posts while I brushed my teeth. “Looks like she’s really hurting. But I’m sure she’ll get over it soon!” My tone was light, a gentle smile fixed on my face. The live chat erupted in defense of Cara: [Cara was heartbroken over him for so long, and all he can say is she’ll ‘get over it’? You’d have more feelings for a dog you’d had for seven years. What a monster!] [Exactly. He doesn’t even look sick. This is all a publicity stunt. I hope he gets what’s coming to him.] [Dude, just die already and stop torturing our girl!] In the video, I fell silent after that comment. The camera panned down to my phone screen, showing a message I’d sent to Cara from an alt account: [Even when you’re sad, please remember to eat and rest. A fan who will always support you!] Her reply came almost instantly: [There was only ever one person who paid that much attention to me. Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize you just because you used a burner account?] [So, Blake. What are you trying to prove with this pathetic act? Are you here to laugh at me?] I stared at her words, frozen. A long moment passed before I slowly typed back: [Yeah. It’s exactly what you think.] No reply came. When I refreshed the page, I saw that she had blocked me. The chat cheered: [YES! Our queen knows her worth. She deserves so much better!] [This must be when she developed her killer instinct and cool-headedness. We should thank this asshole for that.] [I’m so curious about what the old Cara was like, though.] [Don’t be. That must have been the darkest time of her life.] The angry comments scrolling across the screen obscured the corner of the frame, where the boy clutched his phone, his eyes rimmed with red. [Date: May 2, 2019. Weather: Sunny. I want you to be happy more than anyone.] “Today… cough… I came to see you in secret.” The moment the boy in the video appeared, the stream of hateful comments came to a sudden halt. “Surprised to see me like this? To be honest, I’m not used to it either. It took a lot of courage to even turn the camera on.” The boy was wearing an awkward wig, and his cheeks were terrifyingly thin, but the same gentle smile was on his face. The camera showed the set of Cara’s breakout TV series, the one where she played the second female lead opposite Owen, who was also a supporting actor at the time. Amid a crowd of fans cheering for the main actress, I stood in a quiet corner, holding a small sign with Cara’s name on it, watching her act. She was more mature, her features sharper, her presence more commanding. The cheers for the lead actress grew louder. In the chaotic roar, on some strange impulse, I called out Cara’s name. The next second, as if she’d heard me through the noise, she looked up. Our eyes met. I ducked my head instantly, my heart hammering against my ribs. I didn’t even wait for the scene to end before I turned and fled. “Phew… I don’t think she saw me.” I was hiding in an alley, catching my breath, glad I’d gotten away. Suddenly, a firm hand clamped down on my wrist. “We broke up. Is it fun for you to stalk me now, Blake?” Cara was panting, her brow furrowed in anger. But as she took in my face, her expression faltered. “You… haven’t you been sleeping?” I quickly composed myself, turning my head away. “That’s right,” I said, my voice cold. “I have a new girlfriend. She keeps me up all night. A lot more exciting than you ever were.” Rage flared in Cara’s eyes. “Blake! You son of a—” She cut herself off. Owen’s voice came from behind her. “Cara? Why’d you run off mid-scene? The director is furious. Are you okay?” Cara let out a long, heavy breath and released my wrist. “You’re the one who said anyone who betrays a true heart deserves a thousand cuts.” “Forget it. Just don’t come back here again.” I kept my head down, silent. She turned to leave. Owen was still asking, “Who was that? A friend of yours?” Cara’s voice was clear and chillingly indifferent: “Just someone unimportant.” A bitter tide rose in my chest. When I looked up again, my vision was blurred with tears. “See? I told you. You were always going to be great.” “You were right. I’m the one who betrayed us. So let all the bad karma come to me. All I want… is for you to be happy…” [Date: June 3, 2019. Weather: Sunny. Not a hard decision.] A sophisticated man sat across from me at a café table. He took an elegant sip of his coffee. “You want to hire me as Cara’s agent? You know my rates aren’t cheap.” Someone in the chat recognized him. It was Marcus Vance, the legendary agent. With him in her corner, Cara’s career had skyrocketed. She had thanked him publicly more than once, but his only response was always a cryptic: “It was a business arrangement.” In the studio, watching the livestream, the real Marcus Vance looked up, his eyes slowly turning red. In the video, I nodded firmly and pushed a bank card across the table. “Marcus, there’s ninety-seven thousand, six hundred and thirty-six dollars in there. It’s every penny I have.” Marcus’s eyes flickered to the card, his voice unchanged. “I’m a businessman, you know that. This isn’t nearly enough for me to tie my career to some unknown actress.” I bit my lip. Then, I reached up and took off my wig, revealing my emaciated, sickly face underneath. It was the first time I had shown myself on camera without any disguise since I got sick. The live chat fell into a stunned silence. “Marcus, I’ll be honest with you. I have stomach cancer. I don’t have much time left.” “She’s the only thing I can’t let go of. I believe in her. I know she can make it big.” “I know this money isn’t enough to persuade you. But I’ll give you the rights to this entire video series I’m making. After I’m gone, whatever it earns can be my payment. What do you say?” I looked at him, my voice pleading. Marcus stared at me for a long time, then finally spoke. “And what about you? You’ve planned everything for her. Are you just going to fade away and die?” “If you used this money for treatment, you might live longer…” He trailed off. I just shook my head, a faint smile on my lips. “I can’t be a burden to her. We’ve already been through enough.” “It’s okay. I’m not afraid of dying. I’m just afraid of her crying if she sees me like this.” My face was calm, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. A heavy silence filled the café. Marcus looked up, blinking hard, and took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

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My brother, Ryan, vanished that night. I was ten and he was seven. We were in the woods behind the old mill when we stumbled upon an abandoned spaceship. Curiosity got the better of him, and Ryan scrambled inside. The hatch slammed shut behind him, and no matter how hard we pushed, it wouldn’t budge. Panic, cold and sharp, pierced right through me. I ran home, screaming and crying for Mom and Dad. Every adult from our little mill town turned out, combing every trail and thicket in those woods, turning the whole place upside down. They found nothing. Not a single clue. When they finally pried the hatch open, the inside was empty. A few of the men squeezed into the dark, narrow, dust-choked cylinder. They came out grimy and grim-faced, saying it was just an old industrial mixing tank. There was nothing inside. No other exits. No secret doors. No holes. Ryan had simply vanished into thin air. 1 That night, two officers from the local precinct came by and drilled me with questions. Every word they said made me feel like I’d done something wrong. “Why did your brother climb into that tank?” “You’re the older sister. Why didn’t you stop him?” “Are you sure you’re not just making this up?” I defended myself, my voice raw and hoarse, but all I got in return were heavy, meaningful stares. A seven-year-old boy, gone. No witnesses, no leads, no evidence. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, and it wouldn’t be the last. Every summer, some kid would wander too deep into the woods and get lost. Some were found. Some weren’t. They treated it like any other missing person case. No one yelled at me, but no one believed me, either. The search lasted two weeks. The police exhausted every possibility. In the end, my brother became just another name on a list of the missing. After Ryan was gone, the air in our house changed. It grew heavy, suffocating. Mom would lock herself in her room and just cry. Dad would finish his shift at the mill and go straight to the woods, sitting by that “spaceship” and drinking until late into the night. No one could accept that their son had evaporated inside an old, rusted-out tank. No sign of life, no body to bury. The whispers started in the hallways of our apartment building. Some said the spirits in the woods had taken him. Ryan had always been a frail kid, and they said those things preyed on the weak. Others pointed their fingers at me. “Tsk, tsk. Kids these days. The things they’ll do to get all their parents’ attention.” The gossip swirled around like dead leaves in the wind. But life had to go on. Mom and Dad made a silent pact to never speak his name again. Mom packed all his clothes, toys, and photos into a large wooden chest and locked it. Back then, the cartoon Starblazers was all the rage. Ryan had a complete set of stickers from the show plastered all over his headboard and pencil case. He used to say that one day, he’d become a Starblazer too, and fly off into space. Now, all his dreams, along with the name Ryan, were locked away at the bottom of that chest. My dad had us take a new family photo. Mom and Dad forced tight smiles for the camera, determined to start over. Not long after, Mom got pregnant again. Maybe it was to wash away the sorrow, or maybe it was the universe’s way of offering compensation. She nurtured the new life quietly, her face a mask of something between grief and hope. Dad threw himself into his work, his eyes fixed on the promise of a new beginning. Only I, weathering the storm of neighborhood gossip, kept searching for Ryan, praying he would come back. I refused to believe a seven-year-old boy could just disappear. I chose to believe he’d really done it—he’d launched his ship and was out there, somewhere in the vast, starry expanse. In my dreams, I could still see him, his small back turned to me as he climbed into the tank. “Cassie, I’m leaving now.” “I’m going on an adventure in space, just like a real Starblazer.” “Wait for me, okay? I’ll write to you.” And I believed him. I believed he would write. Ryan had never, not once, lied to me. And then, it happened. A letter arrived. It was a perfectly ordinary evening. I was walking home from school and, out of habit, glanced at the milk box by our front door. Tucked into the seam was an envelope. No stamp, no return address. Just three words scrawled in a shaky hand: Cassie. My name. I knew that handwriting. It was Ryan’s. I tore it open. Inside was a piece of paper ripped from a notebook, covered in messy script. Cassie, The ship took off. I’m in space, and all I can see are stars out the window. There are so many buttons in here. I pushed a red one and the ship went super fast. I almost fell over. I’m going on an adventure, just like in Starblazers. I’m doing good here. There’s food and water, and I have a little dog with me. His name is Astro. He can talk and he tells jokes, but they’re not very funny. Cassie, do you miss me? I’m okay, so don’t worry. And don’t tell Mom and Dad. This is our secret. They’ll ruin it if they know. If you miss me, go to our secret base. My telescope is still there. Keep it safe for me. I’ll write again soon. Ryan After reading the letter, I felt a small, hard disk in the envelope. I tipped it out into my palm. It was a little white button shaped like a rabbit. My whole body started to shake. It was the button from the collar of the shirt Ryan was wearing the night he disappeared. Ryan was alive. He had written to me. A thought seized me, and I took off, running like mad toward the woods. The rusted old mixing tank was still there, lying in the clearing, silent and inert. His words from that night echoed in my ears: “Cassie, I’m going on a trip to space.” Clearly, the “spaceship” in the letter wasn’t this hunk of metal. Could it be? Was there some kind of mysterious power inside the tank that had sent him to the stars? I didn’t know. But I was sure of one thing. This letter was real. Ryan was still out there. And he had kept his promise. He wrote! Ryan didn’t want me to tell anyone. Mom and Dad were wrapped up in the new baby, the last thing they wanted was to be reminded of their lost son. If I told any other adults, they’d think I was crazy. A boy who vanished from a sealed tank suddenly sending letters from space? They’d assume I’d faked it for attention, just to stir up a settled tragedy. At ten years old, I’d already learned to read the expressions on grown-ups’ faces. The search parties were long gone. It was up to me. I carefully folded the letter and tucked it inside my dictionary. Before Dad had dinner on the table, I slipped out to our secret base. The “secret base” was just the old recycling depot behind our apartment building. Before Ryan disappeared, we used to scavenge for treasures there: marbles, old toys, weirdly shaped plastic cards. I dug to the very bottom of our stash and pulled out Ryan’s most prized possession: his toy telescope. His “interstellar observation scope,” he called it. I pulled open the drawer of the old desk we used as our command center and found it right where he’d left it. I figured, if Ryan could get a letter from outer space into our milk box, then he could definitely get one back. So that night, I hunched over my desk and wrote a reply. Ryan, I got your letter. Are you feeling better? Space must be so beautiful. I’ll keep our secret. Be careful out there by yourself. They’re coming out with new Starblazers stickers soon. You need to come home soon for your shots and your medicine. Come home soon. Cassie I was never good with words. I wrote and erased and rewrote, but that was the best I could do. The next morning, I tucked my reply and the telescope into the milk box before heading to school. I was a wreck all day, couldn’t focus on a single thing the teacher said. My mind was consumed by the letter. The second the final bell rang, I sprinted home. The milk box was empty. My letter and the telescope were gone. After that, I checked the milk box every single day, waiting for Ryan’s next letter. It didn’t come for a month. When it finally did, it was the same kind of envelope, the same handwriting, the same lack of a stamp. Cassie, The ship flew past Mars today. It’s red, like Mom’s chili sauce. Astro says there are volcanoes on Mars taller than Mount Everest. Cassie, how tall is Mount Everest? How are Mom and Dad? Are you eating okay? I miss Mom’s pot roast. Eat some extra for me, okay? Ryan I sat at my desk and read the letter three times over. Eat some extra of Mom’s pot roast for me. We did have pot roast last night. How did he know? Could he see our dinner table through the telescope? That must mean he was somewhere close. A spark of hope ignited in me. I quickly wrote a reply and went to hide by the milk box, determined to see who was picking up the mail. But my dad, taking out the trash, found me. He yelled at me for loitering and was about to drag me off to school. I couldn’t take it anymore. I decided to tell him everything. The moment the name “Ryan” left my lips, he slapped me across the face. His eyes were blazing. “We don’t have a Ryan anymore! You say that name again and I’ll beat you!” he roared. “And if you ever think about skipping school, I’ll beat you for that too!” I’d always been terrified of my dad, so I did as I was told and went to school. When I got back, my letter was gone. A small part of me felt a flicker of relief. Waiting for Ryan’s letters became the one thing I looked forward to each day. They didn’t come on a regular schedule. Sometimes it was a few days, sometimes a few months. They always seemed to arrive when I was at school or taking a test. But they never stopped. The letters were mostly the same. He was on his ship, he flew past a planet, he saw something cool, Astro told another bad joke. Sometimes I was tempted to tell Mom about the letters. I watched her belly grow bigger every day. She started knitting clothes for the new baby. Her spirit seemed to have left her; even with a new life inside her, she looked hollowed out. One day, I couldn’t hold it in. “Mom,” I started. “Do you think… do you think Ryan might still be alive?” Her hands stilled. The silence in the room stretched on for a long time. Then she let out a long, weary sigh. “Cassie, I know you miss him. I do too.” She put her knitting away and walked to the window, her back to me. “But some things… you just have to let them go. We have to look forward now.” Her shoulders trembled slightly. I knew she was crying. I didn’t say another word. In that moment, I understood. They had all given up on Ryan. Back in my room, I pulled the letters from my dictionary and read them again under the starlight pouring through my window. I knew every word by heart. After I finished, I just stared out at the night sky. The moon, the stars, the scattered lights of the town. And then I saw it. My eyes locked onto the small park below our building. A little boy was standing in the middle of the empty playground, holding a telescope. And he was looking right at my window.

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The silent war for the inheritance had begun. My parents had handed me and the “impostor son” each a startup, setting a three-year deadline. Whoever turned the biggest profit would take over the family empire. I drove myself into the ground to prove my worth. It wasn’t just about the fortune; I was desperate for a single, approving glance from my parents. I slammed back glass after glass of hard liquor at business dinners until a bleeding ulcer landed me in the ER. Countless nights bled into dawn as I hunched over proposals, my office becoming my only home. The pride I once had? I swallowed it, learning to suck up, to read the room, to play the game and kiss the right asses. Just as my company’s profits were skyrocketing and victory was within my grasp, the woman who swore she loved me casually handed a game-changing contract to the impostor. He won without lifting a finger. If they were all going to play this dirty, then so was I. The gloves were coming off. 1 They threw a victory party for him on my birthday. Because I didn’t show, my parents took turns calling to tear me apart. “Asher beat you, and now you can’t even show your face at his party? What will people think of us? If you were such a sore loser, you should never have agreed to the bet in the first place. You’re a disgrace.” “You have thirty minutes. If you’re not here, don’t ever bother coming back. We’ll consider ourselves son-less.” To legitimize Asher Blackwood’s claim to the family fortune, my parents had invited every big name in town to witness his coronation. The three-year wager between the real and fake Blackwood heirs was common knowledge in our circle. Some had even placed private bets on who would come out on top. For three years, they’d watched me grind, they’d seen my results. They bet on me to win. So when the news of my loss broke, they were stunned. Just a week before, my company’s profits had dwarfed Asher’s. Who could have guessed that my own girlfriend would hand him the win on a silver platter? When I first took over the startup, I knew nothing. My girlfriend, Genevieve, was already running her family’s corporation. I’d asked her for a little guidance. “You need to do this on your own, Noah,” she’d said. “Stop looking for shortcuts.” With that one sentence, she’d shut down any hope of help from her. And yet, the same person who told me not to take shortcuts had just opened the floodgates for someone else at the most critical moment. I could handle losing. But I couldn’t stomach the betrayal. Faced with my parents’ fury, I answered calmly, “It’s my birthday. Some friends and I are out on the boat. I can’t make it back.” Silence on the other end of the line. Clearly, they’d forgotten. Then, Asher’s voice, thick with feigned tears, drifted through the phone. “Does Noah still not want to come? Does he hate me for winning the bet? If I’d known, I would have just lost. I don’t want our family to fight.” Whatever guilt my parents might have felt vanished in an instant. My mother’s voice turned sharp with irritation. “You knew today was the day Asher inherited the company, and you chose to go screwing around with your good-for-nothing friends. You’re doing this on purpose. Fine. Stay out for all we care.” She hung up. The old me would have dropped everything, rushed to their side, and desperately tried to explain. But now? I felt nothing. The only thing on my mind was catching more squid. My best friend loved fresh-caught calamari, and I intended to deliver. The day was a success. My friend and I feasted on our catch, even saw a pod of dolphins break the surface. We didn’t head home until nine, spirits high. But a few unwelcome guests were waiting for me at my door. My father was the first to charge, his hand raised to strike me. My friend, Rick, was quicker. He yanked me back. I dodged the slap but lost my footing, tumbling to the ground. Rick winced, offering a hand to pull me up. My father, trembling with rage, roared, “If you had a problem, you could have come to me! Why did you have to call your grandmother and tattle on us? She’s been ill, recovering overseas for years. We never trouble her with anything! But today, she called, screamed at all of us, and now she wants to kick Asher out of the family. What did you say to her to make her that furious?” Asher collapsed to his knees before me, sobbing. “I don’t want the inheritance anymore! You can have it. Just say I lost the bet. Please, just don’t make them send me away. I only want to be with Mom and Dad. They’re all I have left…” I took a step back, my face a cold mask. “Don’t try that crap with me. I didn’t do anything.” My father couldn’t stand the sight of Asher kneeling. He rushed to help him up, his fury at me deepening. “You do it and then deny it? Don’t think your grandmother’s support means you can break our deal. We agreed, whoever wins, inherits. You lost because you weren’t good enough. What right do you have to steal this from Asher?” In that moment, I finally understood what it felt like to be truly unloved. I said nothing. Instead, I pulled out my phone and played a recording. The voices were clear. “I never knew Miss Devereaux had such feelings for Asher. It’s a good thing she stepped in. Otherwise, I would have had to arrange something behind the scenes. That boy, Asher, is too simple-minded. Three years, and he still couldn’t get that company off the ground. Not like him. He’s got a calculating mind. If he took over, I doubt our retirement would be very peaceful.” It was my father’s voice. My mother paused, then said, “I didn’t tell you, dear. When Miss Devereaux visited last time, I let it slip that if Asher didn’t win, we’d have to marry him off to secure his future. I was just giving her a little push. I didn’t expect her to act so decisively. It seems her feelings for Asher are quite serious.” “Well, Miss Devereaux is a brilliant woman. Asher would do well with her. I just worry that Noah will throw a fit.” “Let him. As long as it doesn’t affect Asher’s happiness, he can do whatever he wants.” The recording ended. The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. I looked at them, my mind flashing back a month ago. My company’s profits were soaring, victory a sure thing. Then an employee burst in, telling me Asher’s company had just landed a massive partnership. The partner was Genevieve Devereaux. Blood roared in my ears. I called her immediately. She didn’t answer. Our bet had a clause: neither Asher nor I could receive any help or resources from the Blackwood family. But Asher, knowing Genevieve’s influence, had insisted on an addendum: Genevieve was also forbidden from helping me. My parents, in the name of “fairness,” had agreed without even asking me. The game had been rigged from the start. Asher had grown up in the Blackwood mansion, receiving the best education, groomed to manage a corporation. I had learned nothing. But to prove myself, I gritted my teeth and accepted. I had poured ten times the effort into it, only to lose to a backroom deal. The injustice was a bitter pill. I had driven to the family home that day, demanding an explanation. I found them in the garden, discussing this very thing. I stopped and listened, and the more I heard, the colder I grew. They never intended for me to be the heir. Even without Genevieve, they would have found another way to ensure Asher won. I didn’t storm in and confront them. I just recorded their conversation. Driving away from the house, tears streamed down my face, my heart constricting until I could barely breathe. Later, Genevieve called. She claimed the partnership was a decision made by her marketing department after extensive research. It wasn’t a personal favor, she said. I shouldn’t overthink it. I didn’t cry or scream. I just said, “Okay, I understand,” and hung up. Some truths don’t need to be spoken aloud. “When… when did you record that? You were spying on us? You’re a monster.” My father’s eyes darted away, but he didn’t miss the chance to shift the blame. My mother joined in, her voice dripping with condemnation. “So you sent this to your grandmother? No wonder your father said you were cunning. You’re terrifying, stabbing us in the back like this. How could we ever trust you with the family business?” Seeing no remorse, not an ounce of regret, I forwarded the recording to my grandmother’s assistant. “I don’t have her number,” I said flatly. “You made sure of that from the beginning, telling me she was too ill to be bothered with matters here. A family friend gave me this contact, said it was a way to reach her. This is the first time I’ve ever sent a message.” Since returning to the Blackwood family, I had only seen my grandmother once, on a video call. I had no idea how she even found out about this ridiculous bet. My father’s tone suddenly softened. “Well, if you didn’t tell her, there’s no need to. This is a family matter, we’ll handle it ourselves. Your grandmother put a stop to the party tonight, so we’ll just… we’ll reconsider who is the most suitable heir.” Hearing his phony, placating words, I felt a wave of revulsion so strong it made me sick. My eyes, cold as ice, locked onto his. “You are… disgusting.” He looked utterly shocked. “What did you just say?”

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I was in the school cafeteria, sipping the free broth they offered and picking at a cheap plain oatmeal bowl, when the administrators showed up for a surprise inspection. The principal noticed my bare, modest tray and asked gently why I hadn’t gotten any real food. I had no choice but to be honest: I was short on cash. That night, my mom called, her tone sharp and accusatory. She demanded to know how I could be so ungrateful. The family gave me a generous monthly allowance of a hundred thousand dollars—so why was I going around telling people I was broke? I knew all about that allowance, of course. But the money was held in a managed trust. Under the legal terms, I couldn’t withdraw a single dollar until I turned eighteen. And I was only a freshman in high school. 1 My mother’s yelling continued. “You deliberately told everyone you had no money for food, right in front of all those people. You’re trying to make your father and me look bad, aren’t you?” “Hannah, I’ve always thought you were manipulative. Ever since you were a little girl, you’ve known how to play the victim to get sympathy.” She paused, then her voice turned sharp with sarcasm. “I’ve given you a life of luxury, never let you suffer. And you’re still not satisfied. What a thankless child.” “Just like your grandmother. You’re both here just to make my life miserable.” A wave of exhaustion washed over me. For years, any little thing I did to displease her, she would somehow link back to my grandmother. My grandmother was a traditional woman, with a strong preference for boys. When I was born, the moment she heard I was a girl, she turned around and left. They say the grudges formed during the postpartum month are never forgotten. My mother had hated my grandmother ever since. I tried to explain, but she had already hung up. A moment later, a screenshot of a bank transfer popped up on my phone. [There. Another hundred thousand. That’s enough for you to eat and drink whatever you want.] [You’re still growing. Don’t eat that unhealthy, cheap junk just to save money. You need a balanced diet…] It was a performance of care and concern, as if the argument moments before had never happened. I stared up at the clear blue sky, a chill running through me. After a long silence, I finally gathered the courage to type a reply. [Could you transfer the money directly to me instead of the trust company? I don’t need that much. Two thousand a month would be enough.] The “typing” indicator flickered on and off for a long time, but no message came through. Just as I thought she wouldn’t reply, my phone rang. My mother’s furious voice exploded in my ear. “Hannah, what are you trying to pull? Are you just looking for trouble?” “Have you been hanging out with the wrong crowd at school? A hundred thousand a month isn’t enough for you?” I took a deep breath, my heart pounding. I forced myself to explain. “But Mom, I can’t access that money until I’m eighteen. I’m only sixteen. What am I supposed to do for the next two years?” “I’m starving. I can’t even afford a fifty-cent bowl of congee anymore.” “Mom, please, just give me some living expenses. I don’t need much. A thousand a month… no, five hundred would be fine. I just don’t want to be hungry anymore…” I was so hungry. At my age, I was going through a growth spurt, and with all the physical activity at school, I was hungry all the time. Even with the free soup at every meal, I was still starving. At my worst, I had resorted to drinking water from the tap to fill my stomach. But my mother was unmoved. Her voice grew even sharper. “I fought for you, went against the family to set up that trust for you because I felt sorry that you weren’t valued. There’s over five million in there by now. What more could you possibly want?” “Always demanding more, just like your grandmother. You’re both here to collect a debt. What did I do to deserve this?” I tightened my grip on the phone. In that moment, I finally understood. My mother was taking out all her resentment for my grandmother on me. She was deliberately withholding money from me, all while maintaining the facade of a “good mother.” The call ended. I went to the sink on the balcony and gulped down more water. A roommate walked in and saw me, startled. “Hannah, you’re drinking tap water again.” I nodded. She frowned, studying me for a long moment before hesitating. “But… your cousin, Iris, says your family is really rich. How can you not have money for food?” My heart stuttered. Iris was my cousin. She had lived with us since she was a child. My mother adored her. All the maternal love I had never experienced was showered on Iris. Iris had the biggest, prettiest bedroom in the house, with its own piano room. Her closet was overflowing with beautiful dresses she never had a chance to wear. And when it came to spending money, there were no limits. My mother had given her a supplementary credit card with no spending cap. I looked up, meeting my roommate’s eyes. “Not all mothers love their children.” She was stunned into silence. Just then, Iris bounced into the room, holding a small cake. It was strawberry. And I was allergic to strawberries. Iris smiled at me, a look of condescending charity in her eyes, and held the cake out. “Here, for you.” I didn’t move. We had known each other for years. She knew about my allergy. Iris’s face fell. “Come on, eat it. I waited in line for two hours to get this.” “You know I’m allergic,” I said flatly. “What allergy? I think you’re just trying to make things difficult for me.” The smile vanished from her face. The next second, she slammed the cake into my chest, her eyes red with anger. “What is your problem? Just because I’m the poor relative living in your house, you look down on me? You won’t even accept a cake I bought especially for you?” Ten minutes later, Iris and I were in the dean’s office. Iris’s hair was a mess, a clear handprint on her cheek. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. I stood there, my face a mask, but a closer look would reveal scratch marks on my arms and hands, and my clothes were smeared with cream. We both looked like we’d been through a war. Iris sobbed, pointing at her face. “Sir, I just wanted to give her a cake, and she hit me.” The dean frowned, not immediately taking her side. He turned to me. “Hannah, tell me what happened.” I recounted the events of the last ten minutes. Iris had not only thrown the cake at me, but had also lunged at me with her long nails. I hadn’t just stood there and taken it; in the scuffle, I had slapped her. That was when she had finally backed off and started crying. And that brought us here. Iris kept crying, occasionally interjecting, “Sir, I was just so angry! Why couldn’t she just accept my kindness?” She was so self-righteous. The dean looked at her with displeasure, about to speak, when the office door was thrown open. It was my mother. She strode in and, without a word, swung her arm and slapped me across the face. The office fell silent. The dean was the first to react, pulling me behind him and confronting my mother. “Ma’am, you can’t just hit a student!” My mother pointed at me, her eyes blazing. “She’s a menace! Bullying her own cousin. Better I beat some sense into her now before she goes out into the world and does something truly terrible.” From behind my mother, Iris stuck her tongue out at me. I remained frozen, my head still turned from the force of the slap. The dean’s expression had darkened. “Mrs. Zhou, you need to be more patient with your daughter. You should have asked her what happened instead of just resorting to violence.” My mother didn’t seem to hear him, her eyes still locked on me with disappointment. The dean continued, “I’ve heard both sides. It seems Iris threw the cake at Hannah first and then tried to scratch her. Hannah was just defending herself.” My mother looked surprised, but only for a moment. Then, as if she’d heard the funniest joke in the world, her voice became even more shrill. “I gave birth to her. I know her best. She’s been a manipulative little thing since she was a child. And Iris has always been so well-behaved. Why would she attack someone for no reason?” “Hannah must have done something to provoke her.” At that, Iris buried her face in my mother’s side and started crying even harder. “It was sister… she’s always calling me a poor relative, a freeloader… I just couldn’t take it anymore.” That was all the fuel my mother needed. She struggled against the dean’s restraining arm, trying to get to me again. “You ungrateful brat! I’ll kill you!” Just as another slap was about to land, I snapped my head up and met my mother’s eyes. “With a mother like you… I’d rather be an orphan.” You could have heard a pin drop in the office. My mother’s hand froze in mid-air. She stared at me in disbelief, clearly shocked that the daughter who had always tried so hard to please her would dare to say such a thing. “Are you… insane?” After a moment of shock, her anger erupted. She slammed her hand on the desk. “Fine! You really are your grandmother’s granddaughter, rotten to the core!” Even Iris seemed taken aback by the venom in her words. Seeing the color drain from my face, my mother’s voice rose to a shriek. “Hannah, what could you possibly be dissatisfied with? I give you a hundred thousand a month! Most families don’t even save that much in a year.” “And Iris, she never complains about money. She even buys me little gifts. Such a considerate child. Is it so wrong for me to dote on her a little more?” I couldn’t take it anymore. Years of pent-up resentment came pouring out. “Because she’s not the one who’s broke! I’m the one who can’t even afford to eat! Yes, you give me a hundred thousand a month, but it’s all locked up in a trust! I can’t touch it until I’m eighteen.” “I’m only sixteen! You won’t give me any living expenses, and I can’t get the money from the trust. What am I supposed to do?!” My mother just looked at my breakdown with cold disdain. “You’re so ungrateful. You have no appreciation for what your elders do for you.” The dean could only sigh. As we were leaving, he called me back. “Hannah, if you’re having financial difficulties, please don’t hesitate to come to me.” He handed me a financial aid application form. Tears welled in my eyes. I bowed deeply. “Thank you, sir.” I had tried to apply for aid before, but the school had rejected my application after looking into my family’s financial situation. My classmates often teased me, calling me a “rich miser.” It was a Friday. I usually worked on weekends and didn’t have time to go home. But with my mother here, I had no choice but to go with her. When we got home, she shot me a sideways glance and started complaining to my father, who had just arrived. “Richard, I can’t handle your daughter anymore.” My father rubbed his temples, annoyed. “What is it now?” Iris pouted, her eyes welling up with tears. “I bought sister a cake, and she got mad…” she mumbled, her words vague and misleading. My father sighed and tried to reason with me. “Hannah, just try to get along, will you?” My shoulders slumped. My voice trembled. “Give me my living expenses.” At that, my mother, who had been heading upstairs, stormed back down and pointed a finger at my nose. “Hannah, your father and I have given you everything, and not only are you ungrateful, you resent us for it!” “I’ve already transferred the money to you. It’s not my fault if you’re not capable enough to access it.” She then pointed at my father. “Look at your father! He works so hard to provide for this family that his health is failing. And look at me! I’ve gotten so many wrinkles because of you. Do you even see any of that?” I looked at my father. His lips were tinged with blue, and he looked exhausted. I felt a pang of guilt. But that guilt quickly vanished when I heard him sigh and, as he had done so many times before, try to smooth things over. “Alright, Hannah, your mother is just looking out for you. She’s afraid you’ll waste the money if you get it all at once.” I fought back tears and screamed, “Are you both insane? I can’t touch that money until I’m eighteen! What am I supposed to do until then? Do you want me to starve to death?” “To survive, I’ve had to work in illegal factories every break, working until one in the morning for less than a thousand a month! And all the while, Iris is living like a princess in this house! Who is your real daughter?!” My mother stared at me, her chest heaving. She was furious, her parental authority challenged. But she couldn’t refute what I said. It was all true. My father clenched his fists, hesitating as he looked at my mother. She exploded. “Richard, if you dare give her a single cent behind my back, we’re getting a divorce!” That night, like so many nights before, ended in a bitter fight. I spent the weekend working. On Monday, I went to the school’s financial aid office to apply for a student grant. With the dean’s help, the process went smoothly. The grant wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep me from starving. Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, I got a call from my homeroom teacher. “Hannah, the school has given your grant to another student.” “Why?” “Your mother came to the school and went straight to the principal. She told him she gives you a hundred thousand a month and that you’ve always been a spoiled, greedy child. The dean and I tried to reason with her, but it was no use…” My homeroom teacher’s regretful, helpless voice continued on the other end, but I couldn’t hear it anymore. My head was buzzing. A few of my classmates had overheard. They started pointing and whispering. When I got back to my dorm, my roommates looked at me strangely. The one I had been closest to deliberately bumped into me with her shoulder. “Wow, Hannah, you’re really something else. Your mom just pulled up in a Rolls-Royce, decked out in designer everything… and here you are, a rich kid, playing poor for sympathy. It’s disgusting.” “You know who got the grant instead? Iris. Bet that just kills you.” My blood ran cold. I couldn’t take it anymore. I bolted from the dorm, out of the school gates. The family car was parked on the side of the road. The windows were down, and I could see my parents sitting inside. I walked up to them, my voice hoarse. “Why?” My mother didn’t even look at me, busy admiring her manicure. My father had that same helpless look on his face. “Hannah, your cousin has never had her real parents to look after her. She’s a guest in our home. She’s had a hard life…” Iris’s mother was a single mom who had died in a car accident when she was four. No one knew who her father was. “Iris has had it tough, so you have to be the bigger person.” I had heard that line my entire life. I stood there, a bitter smile on my face. “Yes, she doesn’t have parents. But she has you two, her fake parents, who love her more than anything. I have parents, but what’s the difference between me and an orphan?” My parents stared at me, stunned. My voice was eerily calm when I spoke again. “From now on, just pretend you don’t have a daughter. You don’t deserve to be parents.”

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On my daughter’s sixth birthday, just as I was about to cut the cake, an emergency call from my department head shattered the moment. I had to get back to the ER, immediately. He said the patient was the son of a Manhattan heiress, in shock from an acute asthma attack. He insisted I handle it personally, that there could be no mistakes. I pulled on my gloves, a bitter laugh caught in my throat. The Manhattan heiress… wasn’t that my wife of eight years, Seraphina Croft? But we only had one child, an eight-year-old daughter. Where did a three-year-old son come from? After three hours of intensive work, the boy’s breathing finally stabilized. Before I could even remove my mask, the doors to the trauma bay were violently kicked open. Several bodyguards stormed in and sent me sprawling to the floor with a single, brutal kick. A woman’s voice, as cold as ice, cut through the air from above. “Why are there defibrillator burns on my son? Which hand did it? I want it broken.” Clutching my dislocated arm, I looked up. Through the glass doors of the adjoining room, I met the venomous glare of Seraphina. And the man whose arm she was holding… was her ex-boyfriend, the one she had supposedly forced out of the country years ago. 1 Crack. The sharp sound of bone breaking echoed in the silent hallway, unnervingly loud. A tidal wave of pain crashed over me, threatening to pull my consciousness under. I collapsed onto the cold tile, my right arm twisted at a grotesque angle, hanging limp and useless at my side. That was my right hand. My scalpel hand. And now, it was ruined. Behind the glass door, Seraphina was gently holding onto Nathaniel. The raw anguish and concern on her face was an expression I hadn’t seen in our eight years of marriage. Nathaniel’s eyes were red, his voice thick with self-blame. “Sera, Liam is so little… How could that doctor burn him with the defibrillator? If I had known, I would have stayed in there with him myself.” Seraphina stroked his back, her voice a soft, soothing balm. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. I’ve already had that doctor’s hand taken care of. Consider it an apology to Liam.” I lay curled in the shadows, my mind replaying a desperate night eight years ago. Seraphina, her eyes bloodshot, had knelt before me, clutching my legs, begging for forgiveness. “Lucian, I swear! I will never have anything to do with him again!” “I’ll force him out of the country immediately! He will never appear before you again as long as I live!” “If I ever see him again, may God strike me down where I stand!” She had even blocked and deleted all of Nathaniel’s contact information right in front of me and signed a prenuptial agreement stating she would leave with nothing if she was ever unfaithful. And I had believed her. I thought she had truly severed all ties to her past for me. Reality was a slap in the face. “Forced out of the country” was nothing but a performance for my benefit. And that little boy, Liam, had Seraphina’s eyes, her mouth. All this time, she had been playing the part of a devoted wife to me while secretly building a “perfect family” with her ex. The bodyguards’ fists and feet rained down on me for what felt like an hour. They were professionals, avoiding my face and focusing on areas that wouldn’t show, especially my right hand, which they stomped on and ground into the floor repeatedly. By the time I dragged my bloodied body to its feet, leaning against the wall for support, the hallway was empty. Seraphina and Nathaniel had left with their precious son. Clearly, the surgical mask I wore had been the perfect disguise. She had no idea the doctor whose hand she’d just ordered destroyed was her legal husband of eight years. My department head burst in, his face purple with rage, jabbing a finger at me. “Lucian! Do you have any idea whose son that was?” “That was the Croft family scion! The heir!” “I specifically told you to be careful, and what do you do? You burn him with the defibrillator!” “How could you be so careless? Do you even want this job anymore?” “You’re suspended! Go home and think about what you’ve done!” His spittle hit my face. How could I not know who it was? I had been with her for eight years. I knew what a frown on her face meant. No one knew Seraphina Croft better than I did. “Sir, the boy was in shock from an asthma attack. Defibrillation is standard procedure. The redness is minor and will fade in two days…” I tried to argue, to explain that Seraphina was overreacting. But the words died in my throat. What was the point? To the Manhattan heiress, my career was nothing more than a sacrificial offering to appease her ex-boyfriend. Besides, I had my daughter to think about. The image of Rosie waiting at home for me to come cut her birthday cake flashed in my mind. I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my throat, gritting my teeth against the searing pain in my arm. My legs felt like they were filled with lead as I dragged myself out of the hospital. It was three in the morning when I got home. When I pushed open the door, the warm glow of the living room floor lamp was still on. Six-year-old Rosie was curled up on the sofa, the uneaten birthday cake clutched in her arms. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. “Daddy! You’re finally home!” She leaped off the sofa and ran towards me. “Hiss—” She bumped into my right arm. The pain was so intense my vision went black, and I nearly collapsed. “Daddy, what’s wrong? Why is your hand bleeding? Did someone hurt you?” Rosie’s eyes filled with tears, her voice trembling. Her small hands hovered, afraid to touch me. I used my uninjured left hand to gently pat her back, forcing down the lump in my throat. “Daddy’s okay. I just slipped and fell on my way home.” “It’s okay, Rosie, it doesn’t hurt. It’s late, you should go to sleep.” I forced a smile that felt more like a grimace and managed to coax her into bed. After closing her bedroom door, I collapsed onto the edge of our bed in the master bedroom. My mind was a chaotic whirlwind of all the years of Seraphina’s coldness. She was always “too busy with work,” sometimes not coming home for months. She “didn’t like how noisy children were,” so she rarely held Rosie. But today, the way she held that other boy was so practiced, the look she gave Nathaniel so tender. I had been a fool, guarding this cold, empty house, clinging to a promise that was a lie from the start. I was the biggest joke of all. Despair consumed me like a black hole. I didn’t close my eyes until the sky began to lighten with the dawn. I hadn’t been asleep long when I heard the front door open. It was Seraphina. She stopped short when she saw me lying on the bed, my face pale, my right arm in a makeshift splint. Then she rushed over, her face a mask of concern. “Lucian? What happened? How did you get hurt so badly?” She reached out to touch my face, and I flinched away. Her hand froze in mid-air, and her brow furrowed. Her tone shifted instantly to one of anger. “Who did this? Tell me who hurt you.” Watching her righteous fury, I felt a surge of bitter irony. The perpetrator was standing right in front of me, vowing to get revenge on my behalf. “Lucian, talk to me! Who was it?” she demanded, her voice rising as if she was ready to go to war for me. I lowered my gaze to hide the mockery in my eyes, my voice as cold as ice. “No one. I fell down the stairs last night. Hit the railing. It’s broken.” Seraphina let out a breath of relief, which was quickly followed by a mix of scolding and concern. “How could you be so careless? You’re a surgeon; don’t you know how to protect yourself? Does it hurt? Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital right now. We’ll get the best specialist to look at it.” The hospital? Which one? The one you just had me suspended from? “No need. It’s been taken care of.” I pushed her hand away and struggled to sit up, a wave of nausea washing over me. “Where’s Rosie?” Seraphina paused for a second before answering gently. “I came home early this morning and saw you were asleep, so I didn’t wake you. I already dropped her off at school.” She paused again, her eyes fixed on my injuries. “Where were you last night? What happened? There’s no way you got these injuries from a fall. Don’t lie to me.” She didn’t believe me. I pulled at the corner of my mouth, my gaze locking with hers. “Yesterday was Rosie’s sixth birthday.” “Seraphina, where were you last night?” Her expression faltered for a fraction of a second. Her eyes darted away in a panic. “I…” She stammered, struggling to find her voice. “There was an emergency project at work. I was swamped. I couldn’t get away.” “I feel terrible about it. That’s why I rushed back as soon as I could. I’ll pick Rosie up from school later, and we’ll have a proper birthday celebration for her, okay?” She moved to embrace me, her touch as delicate as if I were a piece of fine art. Just then, her phone vibrated violently in her pocket. The screen lit up with the caller ID: “Important Client.” Seraphina’s expression changed. She glanced at me, then quickly silenced the phone. “It’s work, they’re pushing for an answer. I have to take this.” She walked out to the balcony. Though she lowered her voice, the gentle tone still drifted back to me. “Hello? Is Liam awake? Okay, I’ll be right there.” She hung up and turned back, her face once again a mask of deep affection and guilt. “Lucian, something urgent came up at the office. I have to go. You rest up. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I’m done with this.” Watching her lie so effortlessly, I couldn’t help but let out a small, humorless laugh. In eight years of marriage, Seraphina had never lied to me about anything else. But the moment Nathaniel was involved, she transformed into an Oscar-winning actress. I didn’t scream or demand answers. I simply leaned back against the sofa, my voice flat. “Go on. Business is business.” Hearing my easy compliance, her tense shoulders visibly relaxed. “Lucian,” she said, relief washing over her face, “I knew you’d understand. Thank you for being so patient with me.” Her eyes filled with emotion as she leaned in to kiss me. As she got closer, the scent of a woody, aggressive cologne filled my senses. It was Nathaniel’s favorite. The entire hospital corridor had reeked of it last night. A violent wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I shoved her away. Seraphina stared at me, a flicker of confusion and anger in her eyes. I lowered my gaze to hide my disgust. “Isn’t your ‘client’ waiting?” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “You shouldn’t keep them waiting.” At the word “client,” her expression became strained. She wrung her hands, her eyes darting around nervously. The guilt on her face was perfectly calibrated. “I’ll go then. You get some rest. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” She grabbed her keys and rushed out the door as if afraid I’d change my mind. The door slammed shut, and the apartment was plunged back into silence. I slumped onto the floor, the pain in my right arm radiating through my entire body. I bit down hard, using my good hand to pull a pen and paper from the coffee table drawer. I opened my laptop and created a new document. Divorce Agreement. I typed the words with a clean, final click. I didn’t want a single cent of her money. What I had earned on my own was more than enough to support my daughter and me. All I wanted was full custody of Rosie. I hit the final enter key, printed two copies, and signed my name without a moment’s hesitation. Then I opened a travel app and booked two one-way tickets to Florida for that afternoon. I couldn’t stand another second in this suffocating city. I was taking my daughter, and we were going to disappear from Seraphina Croft’s life forever. This time, we were the ones leaving her. Around noon, I gritted my teeth against the pain and pulled a suitcase from the back of the closet. I started throwing in some clothes and our important documents. I had just managed to stuff a few things inside when I heard the lock on the front door turn again. Seraphina, the workaholic who had once let me go to the hospital alone with a 104-degree fever because she was in a meeting, was back, carrying bags of groceries. On a weekday. In the middle of the day. She saw my stunned expression and explained softly as she took off her shoes. “Your hand is so badly injured, you can’t do much. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being here alone, so I took some time off to take care of you.” If I hadn’t heard her order my hand to be broken, if I didn’t know about her secret family, I would have nominated her for a “Wife of the Year” award. She slipped off her expensive designer blazer, draped it over a chair, and rolled up the sleeves of her white silk blouse before heading into the kitchen. She washed vegetables, chopped meat, and simmered soup with the practiced ease of a full-time homemaker. A short while later, a steaming bowl of seafood chowder was placed in front of me. She sat down, blew on a spoonful, and carefully brought it to my lips. She had put on a record, and a soft French ballad filled the room. A box of expensive, beautifully packaged macarons sat on the coffee table. In the past, a gesture like this would have brought tears to my eyes, making me feel like we were back in the sweet, early days of our love. But now, all I felt was a bone-deep chill. The matcha-flavored macarons. That obscure, sentimental French song. They were all Nathaniel’s favorites. She had just come from his side and hadn’t even bothered to switch gears. She was just recycling the same routine she used on him, on me. A true master of time management. A cold dread crept up my spine. I turned my head away from the spoon. Just then, her eyes landed on the half-open suitcase. Her expression hardened instantly. “What are you packing for?” she demanded, her tone sharp with suspicion. “Where are you going?”

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