Category: English

I bombed my SATs and didn’t get into college. Meanwhile, my cousin Clara got accepted into an Ivy League. When my professor mother heard the news, she was so furious she literally coughed up blood. “If I’d known you’d turn out to be this useless, I should’ve just let your aunt swap you when you were born. I wish Clara was my daughter instead.” When I was born, Aunt Helen gave birth to Clara at the same hospital. While my mom was unconscious after delivery, my aunt bribed a nurse to switch us. My crying woke Mom up. Like a protective wolf, she ignored her postpartum injuries and fought to get me back. But now, Mom said she regretted it. My depression spiraled. I jumped from the balcony. When I woke up, I’d gone back to the day the nurse tried to switch us. This time, I stayed quiet. Because this was what Mom wanted. She didn’t pick me this time. But later, Mom held my emaciated body and cried tears of regret. She just wanted to hear me call her “Mom” one more time. Falling from a building hurts. My head felt like it had split into pieces. Before I could process what happened, I found myself as a baby again. I could see my mother’s pale, sleeping face right beside me. The air was thick with the smell of blood and disinfectant. I’d been reborn to the moment right after my birth. Suddenly, a nurse in white appeared at the door, holding another red-faced baby. She moved quickly and quietly, swapping me with the infant in her arms, then rushed toward the door with me. I remembered—Mom had told this story countless times in my previous life. She said I’d almost been switched, but at the crucial moment, I’d cried loudly and woken her up. Mom got me back, but the violent movement caused severe tearing. She had to stay in the hospital for three months and developed an embarrassing condition. When she got emotional, she’d leak urine. For a distinguished professor who valued perfection and dignity, this was unbearable trauma. But I’d been reborn. I could change everything. I kept my mouth shut tight. I wouldn’t make a sound. But unexpectedly, the baby on the bed started crying. The nurse holding me froze. I whipped my head toward Mom’s direction. The room was dark. From this distance, I couldn’t see clearly, but the person on the bed didn’t move. The nurse bolted for the door. In her panic, she didn’t control her footsteps, but even as she burst through the door, Mom still didn’t wake up. The nurse hid outside, watching nervously. She saw Mom sit up and skillfully pick up the baby, humming a lullaby. The melody drifted out of the room, and my whole body went rigid. Mom didn’t know any lullabies at this point. In my past life, when I was three and wouldn’t eat, Mom had specifically learned that song to coax me. So Mom had been reborn too, hadn’t she? She’d pretended to sleep, waiting for the nurse to finish the swap. So what Mom said in my past life wasn’t just angry words. She really did want Clara as her daughter. Mom didn’t want me anymore. No matter how heartbroken I was, I was still switched and given to Aunt Helen. Aunt Helen didn’t care for me the way she’d cared for Clara in my previous life. Because I was just a fake. She even deliberately collected her breast milk. “If Victoria runs low on milk, she can give the baby mine. Can’t let her daughter go hungry.” I was so hungry I could barely stay awake. Finally, someone pried my mouth open and stuck a bottle in. I sucked once and realized it wasn’t milk—just bland rice water. When I stopped after a few sips, Aunt Helen pinched my bottom hard. “How dare you be picky? Who told you to be born to Victoria? Don’t drink it then—starve to death!” I wailed from the pain. This scene would repeat often in the house. Dad’s parents were dead. He only had Aunt Helen. So after she got pregnant out of wedlock, she moved into my parents’ house. When Mom and Aunt Helen were both taking care of babies, my aunt would find ways to make me cry. I was already a premature baby. In my past life, with Mom’s careful care, I’d still grown up weak and sickly. Now, drinking rice water, I quickly got sick from malnutrition. I ran a fever and broke out in rashes. Aunt Helen ignored me, sitting on the couch drinking soup the housekeeper made. The only person who could save me—Mom—wasn’t home. That morning, Clara had choked on milk and refused to drink anymore. Mom panicked and had Dad drive them both to the hospital. Eventually, I passed out completely. Even my survival instinct faded.

I thought I would die. When I woke up, I was in the ICU. I gulped oxygen, and my body slowly regained sensation. Outside, Dad was scolding Aunt Helen so harshly she didn’t dare talk back. After that, Aunt Helen didn’t dare feed me rice water anymore, but she still couldn’t bear to waste her breast milk on me. She bought the cheapest formula instead. My life was temporarily spared. Mom named Clara after me—Clara Rivers, the name I’d had in my past life. I felt heartbroken that I’d even lost my name. Aunt Helen casually picked mine. “This one will be Mia.” Mom didn’t say much, just looked at me with complicated eyes. At six, Clara and I attended the same elementary school. Classes started at 7:30 AM. The difference was, Clara got to go to school with braids Mom had personally done, carrying a warm breakfast, riding in Dad’s car. I had to make breakfast for Aunt Helen, clean the house, and only leave with ten minutes to spare under her impatient glare, walking fifteen minutes to school. First week of school—late every single day. I had to stand during morning study hall as punishment every time. Whenever I asked to leave earlier for school, Aunt Helen would beat and scold me. That’s how I became the “bad kid” in my classmates’ eyes and the cautionary tale teachers warned others about. One day, Mom forgot some documents and came back early. She saw this exact scene: Little me standing on a stool cooking, while Aunt Helen sat in the living room watching TV, eating fruit and yelling that I was trying to starve her. Mom froze. Our eyes met. Mine were filled with tears, but also hope. Aunt Helen treated me badly because I wasn’t her child. But I was Mom’s child. The next second, Aunt Helen had her excuse ready, pulling out her so-called “tough love” philosophy. “I’m just disciplining the child. Doing hard labor at this age helps her appreciate studying later.” Mom was easily convinced. She grabbed her documents and left without looking back. I stared at her retreating figure, frozen. Then Aunt Helen beat me again. But I couldn’t feel the pain. Because my heart hurt more. In middle school, girls started developing. Aunt Helen hand-sewed four bras and put them all in Clara’s closet. When I asked for one too, her mocking gaze swept over me, and the next second she reached out and twisted my tender chest cruelly. Tears streamed down my face from the pain. She screamed: “Already acting like a slut at your age? Trying to seduce men, is that it?” I never dared ask again. I could only fold tissues flat when she wasn’t looking and tape them to myself with clear tape. It gave me a tiny bit of security. But middle school had PE class, and the uniforms were loose. When I ran, sweat loosened the tape, and the tissues fell out in front of everyone. Boys stared at me strangely. Girls wanted nothing to do with me. After that, rumors about me spread through school. When I went to the bathroom during breaks, boys would deliberately bump into me. When the teacher noticed, she contacted my guardian to come to school. I stood outside the office. When Aunt Helen arrived, she greeted me with two loud slaps across the face. Students in the hallway stopped to stare. Teachers came out of the office at the sound. My face burned. The humiliation nearly drowned me. But Aunt Helen didn’t stop. She pulled my hair and my collar, screaming: “Seducing people at your age—you’re disgusting!”

She started pulling at my shirt, trying to strip me in front of everyone. I clutched my clothes desperately, sobbing hysterically. Finally, a teacher who couldn’t stand it anymore stepped forward to stop her and brought her into the office. After calming Aunt Helen down, the teacher got to the point and pulled out my exam results. “The rumors will die down. Kids forget fast. Just buy Mia a couple of bras and it’ll be fine.” “The real issue is Mia’s grades this time… They’re not good…” When we got home, Aunt Helen took my report card to complain to Mom. “I’m so jealous you have Clara. Great grades, obedient, adorable.” “Not like Mia. Today the teacher called me to school—I’ve never been so humiliated.” Mom’s eyes flashed with relief and pride, though she offered comfort. “Learning is mostly about natural talent. She’ll get there eventually.” In Mom’s eyes, I was the one without talent. But she didn’t know—in my past life, my grades were bad because of bullying. After Mom found out and transferred me to an advanced class, my grades still didn’t improve. Because by then, my best friend Luna had already been bullied to death. This time, I swore I’d protect her. After the first monthly exam results came out, Luna was targeted again. Because she’d scored first place by a huge margin. Using my knowledge from my past life, I quickly became friends with Luna. I also discovered something shocking—the source of the bullying was Clara. Luna had been threatened to put Clara’s name on the next exam, or the bullying would continue. I gave her advice: don’t score as high next time. But keep studying hard in daily life. By the second monthly exam, Luna only scored twentieth in class. Meanwhile, my grades skyrocketed. I became second in the entire class, drawing all the fire. When I came home with my good grades, Dad, Mom, Aunt Helen, and Clara were sitting together like a tribunal. Clara had bombed this exam. She cried pitifully and implied that I’d cheated with the help of the first-place student. I didn’t care what the others thought. Even when Aunt Helen hit me with a broom, I didn’t move. I just stared at Mom without blinking. Soon, Mom looked at my report card and delivered her verdict: “She definitely cheated. You don’t have the talent. Your grades couldn’t improve this fast.” “She did something wrong. A beating will teach her a lesson.” A bitter smile twisted my lips. What was I even hoping for? In the eyes of someone who doesn’t love you, nothing you do is right. But in the middle of the night, I found a bottle of painkillers lying quietly outside my door. Mom’s regular medication. I bit my lip and brought it into my room. Aunt Helen insisted I’d cheated and deliberately starved me as punishment. I fainted from hunger at school. This time, both Aunt Helen and Mom came. Facing Mom’s questioning, Aunt Helen instinctively threw me under the bus. “She stole money from me, so I cut off her allowance. Don’t you have some savings of your own? How could you faint from hunger? I think she’s faking!” I explained weakly, my face pale: “Clara took my savings.” Mom called Clara over. Clara looked aggrieved: “You’re lying! You gave your savings to those delinquent boys in class.” With her real daughter backing her up, Aunt Helen tried to cement the accusation that I was dating delinquents. But this time, Mom stopped her with a serious expression. “Clara, you can’t say things like that. A girl’s reputation is important.” “If the meal card is lost, just report it and get a new one.” Aunt Helen was a bit afraid of Mom and mumbled into silence. They all left. I was lying there with an IV drip, eyes closed, when I felt movement under my blanket. I opened my eyes just in time to see Mom tucking money under my covers. Caught in the act, Mom jerked her hand back and turned to leave. But I called out to her: “Mom!” Her back stiffened, but she said stubbornly: “I’m not your mother. Don’t call me that.” But I persisted: “I heard Clara call Aunt Helen ‘Mom’ in private. What if there was a mistake? What if you really are my mother?” Mom’s voice sounded flustered: “Everyone wants an excellent daughter. Stop overthinking. I only have Clara as my daughter.” But “Clara Rivers” was the name you gave me in my past life, Mom. I made up my mind not to let Mom keep deceiving herself. Since she wanted an excellent daughter, I’d become excellent. Becoming first place by a landslide should be enough, right?

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My husband’s secretary has been spending wildly with my credit card, and she even called me a useless housewife at a French restaurant. Furious, I froze that card, leaving her unable to pay the bill. The restaurant manager had her sent straight to the police station. When my husband found out, he quickly explained with a smile: “She’s new to the corporate world. She doesn’t know the rules yet. I’ll teach her a lesson.” Later, on my birthday, my husband took me to that same French restaurant. After ordering a table full of expensive wine and dishes, he said he needed to step out to take a call. But I waited until nearly closing time, and he never came back. Just as I pulled out my card to pay, the restaurant manager told me: “Miss Serena, your credit card has been frozen.” “Frozen?” This was the card Callum gave me. Before we left, he even took my card away, saying that since it was my birthday, he had to be the one to pay. I was so touched at the time, secretly congratulating myself for finding such a good husband. But now he’s nowhere to be found, and he hasn’t answered any of the dozens of calls I’ve made. If this card doesn’t work, I’m going to be in serious trouble. The manager’s expression shifted from respectful to impatient as he looked at me. “Miss Serena, do you have any other card you can use?” “Let me be clear. We don’t allow people to dine and dash here. You knew that from last month, didn’t you?” Of course I remembered. Last month, Callum’s little secretary used the card he gave her to spend recklessly and called me a useless trophy wife. Could it be… An ominous feeling crept up my spine, making me suspect this was Callum’s way of getting revenge for his secretary. Just as that thought crossed my mind, I heard the sound of heels clicking outside. I quickly turned to look and saw Callum walking in with his arm around his secretary, who was glaring at me with pure hatred. Behind them followed a group of friends, all wearing expressions like they were about to watch a show. “Serena, don’t you just love punishing people who can’t pay their bills?” “Well, now you can experience firsthand what it’s like when you can’t pay.” As soon as he finished speaking, the whole room erupted. “I heard this Serena came from a poor family. She just got lucky that Mr. Callum took a liking to her. Now her own husband is here with his new flame to watch her humiliation.” “Ha ha ha ha! See that? This is what happens when you climb the social ladder using just your pretty face.” “Exactly! How long can her youth and beauty last? When a rich man finds a younger, prettier girl, that’s when her life of luxury comes to an end.” I slowly clenched my fists, the rage from being humiliated boiling over instantly. Just as I suspected, Callum had set me up to get revenge for his secretary. Callum held Lily’s hand and walked to the front, pulling out a chair to sit down. “Lily, don’t worry.” “However Serena humiliated you that day, I’ll make her pay back double.” Lily’s face lit up with delight, and she instinctively turned and kissed Callum on the lips. “Thank you, Callum.” Then she looked at me with a provocative stare: “Serena, you’re nothing but a pretty face. What gives you the right to freeze my card?” As soon as she finished speaking, she grabbed an expensive bottle of red wine and smashed it at my feet. “Crash!” Wine splashed onto my face, making me look even more pathetic. “Ha ha ha ha! You useless piece of trash! Now I have Callum to pay for me. I can smash as many bottles as I want and he’ll cover it. But you? You’re screwed.” Callum also looked at me with mockery: “Don’t glare at me like you want to kill me. If you have money, you can pay and leave.” “Ha ha ha ha! Like she has any money to pay!” “Those dishes and the opened bottles of wine add up to an amount that’s way beyond her reach.” “She’s always lived off Mr. Callum’s money. Without him, she’s nothing.”

To completely humiliate me, Callum stood up with a smile and swept his cold gaze across the room. “Anyone who dares to help Serena out of this situation is my enemy and will be making an enemy of me.” Everyone knew the Reeves family was the wealthiest in Manhattan. No one dared to offend Callum. A few business partners who had good relationships with me were about to stand up to help me out. But when they heard Callum’s words, they quickly sat back down, afraid Callum would notice their movement. “See that? Mr. Reeves is serious.” “He loves his little secretary more than his wife!” “Right! I thought since they were legally married, Mr. Reeves was just angry for the moment. But this is real.” “With his threat, who would dare help Serena?” I lost control in my anger and walked over to grab Callum’s hand, demanding answers. “Callum, are you really going to humiliate me for this woman?” Callum slapped me across the face with his other hand. “Slap!” “Yes!” I couldn’t believe it as I turned back to look at Callum. We’d been married for three years and were known as a loving couple. He was the one who pursued me when I first came to Manhattan. At our wedding, he made vows, saying he would be loyal to me forever, never betray me, and love me with his life until the end of time. But now? It’s only been three years, and all those vows, all those beautiful memories, have been destroyed by his cold, cruel actions. Just like outsiders said, someone who married into a wealthy family based on looks has no dignity. Once a younger, prettier mistress appears by his side, the luxurious life of being a wealthy man’s wife comes to an end. But Callum had no idea that when I willingly married him years ago, it wasn’t for his family’s money. It was because I loved him. Facing my bloodshot eyes, Callum pulled out a tissue and disdainfully turned to wipe the hand he’d just used to hit me. “You knew I cared about that secretary, but you had to go and freeze her card.” “Serena, if you can’t pay the bill next, I’ll have the manager strip you naked and make you run out of this restaurant.” As soon as he said this, the whole room cheered, everyone staring at me with mocking and greedy eyes. “Mr. Reeves is really willing to go this far. For his new lover, he’s making his own wife strip naked.” “Right?” “Soon she won’t be his wife anymore. Looks like after tonight, Serena will be kicked to the curb.” “Ha ha ha ha! Let’s stop talking and just watch the show.” The middle-aged wealthy men looked at me with amusement and mockery. “Tsk tsk tsk, I want to see if she has a good body. Ha ha ha ha!” My face burned with the fire of humiliation. Before we left, Callum took all my cards, making me let my guard down. All I had left was this expensive designer dress I was wearing. I had no money to pay the bill. And my phone had died. I realized now that Callum had planned all of this.

“It’s getting late, Serena. The restaurant is waiting for you to pay so they can close.” “Don’t tell me you can’t pay!” “What are we going to do? If you can’t pay, you’ll be detained and sent to the police station. Oh wait, isn’t that what you did to me?” Lily pulled out a cigarette, put it in her mouth, lit it, and started smoking. She didn’t forget to blow the smoke in my face, her arrogant expression making me unable to resist raising my hand to swipe at her. The scene instantly became chaotic. Callum, feeling sorry for Lily, quickly had his bodyguards rush over and throw me out. “Serena, stop it right now!” “What? You’re allowed to play with others, but they can’t play with you in return?” I stared at Callum with bloodshot eyes. The only reason he was able to rise to the top as the wealthiest man in Manhattan in just three years was because of my help. I used my family’s power and connections to help him fight his way to the top. Even dangerous people from the underground who wanted to cause him trouble backed off because of me. I had planned to tell Callum about my background tonight on my birthday, to tell him I wasn’t just a commoner. I was the heir to the first of New York’s four founding families. I also planned to take him home to meet my father and mother. I just didn’t expect people’s hearts could change so quickly. I misjudged him. I overestimated his character. “Callum, are you really going to make me leave this restaurant humiliated and disgraced?” Callum laughed coldly: “What else? You think I set all this up for nothing?” Lily, emboldened by the bodyguards, punched me in the face: “You bitch! Either you can’t pay and get sent to jail, or you strip naked, bite this piece of steak, and crawl out of here on all fours like a dog.” “Oh, and the difference between the two? The first one you get to keep your clothes on. The second one you’re naked and have no dignity left. Ha ha ha! Hurry up and choose. I can’t wait!” Facing dozens of pairs of eyes watching this spectacle, I clenched my fists and looked at Callum without any emotion. “Fine. Since this is what you chose, bankruptcy is on you.” As soon as I finished speaking, Lily burst out laughing. “Ah? Ha ha ha!” “Has this woman been reading too many romance novels? Does she think she’s some hidden identity billionaire?” “This woman must be so angry she’s lost her mind.” Callum also glared at me angrily. He thought I was lying too. He casually picked up a plate of food and threw it at me: “Stop your delusions about making the Reeves family go bankrupt. You? As if!” “Think about how you’re going to solve your current problem!” “Manager!” The manager understood and immediately walked over with security guards, speaking to me coldly: “Miss Serena, will you be paying cash or having someone pay for you?” Out of professional courtesy, the manager still didn’t humiliate me completely. I scanned the entire room and finally looked at a business partner I’d worked with before. We met when I was negotiating projects on behalf of the Reeves family. I walked toward her. As soon as she saw me coming her way, she quickly stood up and backed away. “Serena, don’t come near me. I don’t dare pay for you…” “Don’t be afraid. I’m not asking you to pay for me. I just need to borrow your phone.” “Can I?” “I just need to make one call to have a friend bring money over to pay the bill…” “Ha ha ha! This woman is still acting! Who in Manhattan would dare bring money over to help you pay?” “Go ahead and call. We’ll give her another half hour. If time runs out and she still can’t pay, I’ll have these fat old men strip her naked. What a billionaire has used must be good quality, right?”

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I found a secret dark room in my husband, Dr. Julian Thorne’s, study. Inside, dozens of glass jars held specimens of my body parts. From a fingernail he’d snipped when we first held hands, to a strand of hair he’d collected after our intimacy last night. And in the center of the room, a recording device looped my own voice. “Help me, Julian, please, no, it hurts…” It was the recording of my pleas from the operating room when I had my unexpected miscarriage last month. Just as I was about to flee, a cold touch grazed the back of my neck. “Elara, you finally found it.” “Every time you cry, I want to turn you into the most perfect specimen.” My blood ran cold. Suddenly, another woman’s seductive laugh cut into the recording: “Julian, when will you get me your wife’s vocal cord specimen?” I spun around. Dr. Julian Thorne stood at the dark room’s entrance, a scalpel in his hand. “You… you’ve been collecting these all this time?” My voice trembled. “Since our wedding day.” He took a step forward, his movements silent on the floor. “You said you loved all of me, including my professional habits, remember?” I was a medical student, and he was the youngest forensic professor. Our union had once been called a match made in heaven. But now, I just felt sick to my stomach. “What about that recording?” I pointed at the device in the center of the room. “The recording from the day of my miscarriage, why is Serena Bellwether’s voice on it?” Serena Bellwether was his ex-girlfriend. She had returned from overseas three months ago and started working at the same hospital. Julian stopped, the tip of the scalpel resting against his fingertip. “Serena is just interested in my research.” He said it nonchalantly. “She wanted a complete vocal cord specimen for a teaching model. I thought yours would be perfect.” “Perfect?” I almost laughed through my tears. “Julian, I’m your wife!” “So?” He tilted his head, a dismissive smile playing on his lips. “Elara, you’re too emotional. Science requires sacrifice.” He took another step closer. I instinctively recoiled, my lower back hitting the cabinet displaying finger specimens. That little finger in the jar still had my favorite nude pink nail polish on it. It was from a cut I’d accidentally gotten while cooking last month. “You want to turn me into a specimen? Like those corpses?” Julian smiled. But now, I just felt a chill run down my spine. “You’re different from them.” He spoke softly. “You’re a living work of art, and I will make you my most perfect masterpiece.” His hand reached for me. I screamed, shoved him away, and rushed for the dark room door. But it was locked. “Let me go!” I pounded frantically on the door. “Julian, you’re insane! This is illegal!” He hugged me from behind, his lips against my ear. “The law only protects the living.” “And here, to me, you’re already a beautiful corpse awaiting dissection.” I struggled violently, my nails scratching his hand. Beads of blood surfaced, and he actually lowered his head to lick them away, his eyes filled with a disturbing fascination. “Even your struggle is beautiful.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, time’s up.” Before I could ask, I felt a sharp sting on my neck. A needle pierced my skin. A cold liquid pushed into my veins, and my limbs began to go numb. Before my vision blurred, I saw the dark room slowly open. Serena walked in, wearing a nurse’s uniform and pushing a cart of surgical instruments. She leaned over me, her smile cruel. “Elara, don’t worry, Julian’s technique is excellent, it won’t hurt.” “Once you’re a specimen, you can stay by his side forever.” Julian took the scalpel she offered, its blade resting against my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. In my final moments, I heard him say: “In your next life, don’t be my wife again.” “What’s too easily obtained is always tempting to destroy.”

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in our master bedroom. My body felt no numbness. I sat up abruptly and rushed to the mirror. My neck was intact, no knife marks. “Elara?” Julian’s voice came from the bedroom doorway. I flinched. He was holding a breakfast tray, his eyes filled with gentle concern. “Had a nightmare?” He put down the tray and walked over, reaching to touch my forehead. I instinctively recoiled. His hand froze mid-air, his eyes darkening slightly. “What’s wrong?” “N-nothing.” I forced myself to calm down. “Just dreamt something bad.” “What did you dream about?” Julian sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand. “I dreamt you killed me.” I stared into his eyes, saying each word deliberately. Julian paused, then laughed. “Don’t be silly. How could I ever hurt you?” “You’re my wife, the person I love most.” His eyes were sincere when he said this, even showing a hint of doting affection. Before, I would have thrown myself into his arms. But now, I just wanted to vomit. “Where’s Serena?” I suddenly asked. “Was she here last night?” Julian’s expression froze instantly. He frowned. “She was on duty at the hospital last night. Why would she be here? You’re overthinking things again.” “I heard her voice.” I insisted. “In your study.” “My study?” Julian stood up and walked towards the door. “I’ll go check. Maybe you had a night terror and imagined things.” He left the bedroom, and I immediately followed him. Julian pushed open the study door. It was neat as usual. I walked to where he had stood earlier, carefully examining the bookshelf. In my memory, the dark room was behind the third shelf. I reached out to push it, but it wouldn’t budge. Julian hugged me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “What’s really going on with you? Do you want to go to the hospital for a check-up?” My body stiffened. “Maybe I really am just too tired.” I forced myself to relax. “I have class today, I’ll go get ready.” On the way to school, I was completely on edge. “Elara!” Someone tapped my shoulder from behind. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned to see my friend, Chloe. “What’s wrong with you? You look awful.” She looked at me worriedly. “I heard you had a miscarriage last week. Haven’t you recovered yet?” I froze. “Miscarriage? Last week?” “Yeah, last Wednesday.” Chloe looked at me strangely. “Dr. Thorne even took time off to be with you. We were all so jealous.” I grabbed her hand. “What’s the date today?” “April 18th. Why?” In my memory, yesterday was April 25th. I had gone back a week. I couldn’t focus in class all day. My mind was filled with those glass jars and Julian with the scalpel. When the bell rang for dismissal, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Julian: “Serena is treating us to dinner tonight to celebrate her promotion to attending physician. Remember to come.” I stared at my phone screen, my fingers cold. If my memory was real, this dinner was a trap. If I didn’t go, Julian would get suspicious. After a long hesitation, I replied with an “Okay.”

When I arrived at the restaurant, they were already there. They sat by the window, heads bowed, looking at the same phone. Serena was shaking with laughter, and a smile played on Julian’s lips too. The sight stung my eyes. “Elara’s here.” Serena saw me first and waved enthusiastically. “Come quickly, sit down!” “Have you been waiting long?” I sat down next to Julian. “No, we just got here too.” Julian naturally wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed my forehead. “Why do you still look unwell? Didn’t you get enough rest?” His actions were gentle and intimate. But I felt his hand linger a little too long on my waist. Like he was measuring me. “Maybe the medication hasn’t worn off yet.” I said blandly, staring into his eyes. Julian’s smile froze for a moment. “What medication?” Serena interjected, her eyes probing. “Post-miscarriage recovery meds.” I shifted my gaze. “Julian prescribed them. He said they were good for my body.” The truth was mixed. Julian had indeed prescribed the medicine, but I knew its real effect. It made me drowsy; it was probably more than just for recovery. “Dr. Thorne is so thoughtful.” Serena propped her chin on her hand, her gaze lingering on Julian’s face. “Whoever marries you will be incredibly happy.” Julian didn’t refute her, just smiled. During dinner, Serena kept talking about amusing hospital stories. Julian listened intently, the atmosphere so harmonious it was as if *they* were the couple. Serena suddenly turned to me. “I heard you’re preparing for your forensic certification exam? If you need materials, I can give them to you. Julian helped me compile a complete set back then.” “No, thanks.” I said calmly. “Julian already prepared them for me.” “Mine are different though.” Serena blinked. “Mine have Julian’s handwritten notes, lots of exclusive insights!” She was provoking me. I looked at Julian, but he was just cutting his steak, not even looking up. “Those are old materials. Elara can just use the new ones.” Halfway through the meal, Serena said she needed to use the restroom. As she stood up, she knocked over a red wine glass, spilling all the wine onto my dress. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, “I didn’t mean to! Elara, are you okay?” Julian immediately helped me wipe it off. But his movements suddenly paused, his gaze fixed on my calf. I looked down. There was a faint scar there, from a fall when I was a child. In my memory from last night, the skin in this spot should have already been made into a specimen. “What’s wrong?” Julian snapped back to attention, his eyes complex. “Nothing, just remembered that scar of yours. It’s quite unique.” His finger traced the scar. The touch was gentle, but it sent shivers down my spine. “I’ll go clean up.” I pushed Julian’s hand away and walked towards the restroom. “Elara.” Serena’s voice came from behind. I looked up, seeing her leaning against the doorframe in the mirror. “Yes?” “Just wanted to remind you.” She smiled at me. “Some things aren’t yours, and it’s pointless to force them.” “Like what?” I turned around, facing her directly. “Like Julian.” Serena took two steps closer, lowering her voice. “Why do you think he married you? Because you look like me, your voice sounds like mine, even the way you cry is like mine.” “He’s using you as my stand-in, silly girl.” Her words were like daggers, piercing my deepest fears. Instead of breaking down, I smiled. “Is that so? Then why didn’t he just marry you directly?” Serena’s expression twisted for a moment. She leaned into my ear, her breath chilling. “Because he couldn’t bear to turn me into a specimen and display me in his dark room.”

When we left the restaurant, Julian’s car was already parked at the entrance. “Where’s Serena?” “She has her own car.” Julian got into the driver’s seat and leaned over to fasten my seatbelt. “What do you want to do tonight? See a movie or go home and rest?” His fingers brushed my collarbone, lingering for a second. Again, that measuring touch. “Let’s go home, I’m tired.” “Elara, you seem a bit off today.” He suddenly said. “Do I?” I looked out at the fleeting streetlights. “You’ve been avoiding me since this morning.” Julian’s voice was soft, yet it carried an oppressive weight. “Did Serena say something to you?” I turned, looking directly into his eyes: “She said I was her stand-in.” Julian’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. The car braked sharply at a red light. “You believed her?” His voice was low. “I don’t know what to believe, Julian. Do you love me?” I had asked him this question many times. Before, he would always kiss me gently and say, “Of course I do.” But this time, he was silent. The red light turned green, and the cars behind us honked impatiently. Julian restarted the car, and after a long moment, he said: “Yes.” “But there are many kinds of love, Elara.” “My love for you might not be what you’re looking for.” His words were ambiguous, but they confirmed my suspicions. Back home, Julian said he was going to his study to prepare for tomorrow’s class. I watched him pause briefly in front of the bookshelf, then push aside a thick medical dictionary. The bookshelf silently slid open a crack. I dug my nails into my palms, using the pain to stay alert. After he entered the dark room and the bookshelf closed, I quietly crept to the study door. Faintly, I could hear voices from inside. “She’s starting to suspect something.” Serena’s voice. “At the restaurant today, the way she looked at me was off.” “Your provocations were too obvious.” Julian said, his tone cold. “I told you not to tip her off.” “Just a few more days, until I collect the last of the data.” “Are you sure it will work this time? Didn’t it fail last time?” “Last time was an accident.” Julian’s voice suddenly turned cold. “Her pregnancy messed up my plans, all her body data changed. But now she’s back in optimal condition.” “So that’s why you made me provoke her miscarriage?” Serena asked. “You’re really ruthless, Julian. You’d even abandon your own child.” “Science requires sacrifice.” Julian repeated the chilling words. “Besides, we can always have another child later. A perfect specimen, once missed, is gone forever.” I slid down to the floor, leaning against the door, my hands and feet icy cold. Tears streamed silently down my face, but I bit my lip hard, refusing to make a sound. “So when do you plan to make your move?” “Tomorrow night.” Julian’s voice was excited. “I’ll inject her with the modified anesthetic. That way, she can experience the entire process while conscious, but unable to resist.” “The vocal cords are yours. The rest is all mine.” “Deal.” The conversation in the dark room continued, but I couldn’t bear to listen anymore. I rushed into the bathroom and vomited violently into the toilet. Wiping away my tears, I picked up a scalpel with trembling hands, aiming it at my heart. The moment the blade pierced my heart, I showed a twisted smile. “You want my body as a specimen? Then I’ll show you both that the living are far more terrifying than the dead.”

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Christmas Eve. Mom suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage and was rushed to the ICU. I called my husband Ryan. His ex-girlfriend Celeste answered. “He’s in the shower. Can I take a message?” A few hours later, Celeste updated her social media: “This boutique couples’ hotel has such amazing vibes! Definitely coming back with my boyfriend~” The photos showed clothes strewn across the floor and several used condoms. Ryan texted me: “Working late. Be home as soon as I can.” I didn’t cry. A man who cheats is garbage, and I don’t want anymore. The OR light stayed on. I leaned weakly against the wall, my hand trembling as I gripped my phone. Friends and family showed up one after another. “Jade, how’s your mom?” “Jade, what did the doctors say?” “Jade, isn’t Ryan here with you?” I kept my head down. I had no idea what to say. After Mom was brought to the hospital, the doctor immediately issued a critical condition notice. I watched doctor after doctor go into the OR, but none came back out. As for Ryan? Was I supposed to tell them he’d just posted on social media—photos from a boutique hotel with Celeste? I could only keep my head down and nurse my wounds alone. Ryan’s parents arrived. When Harold didn’t see Ryan, his face darkened. He immediately pulled out his phone to call him. “Where the hell are you? Get over here right now—” Before Harold could finish, Ryan’s irritated voice came through: “Dad, did Jade complain to you again? I’m working late at the office. She knows that!” Margaret spoke up. “Ryan, you—” “Mom, don’t. I can handle things with her. You and Dad don’t need to get involved.” “I’m swamped here. Gotta go.” Margaret looked at me awkwardly. Harold’s face turned red with rage. He was about to call again. I forced a weak smile. “Dad, if he’s working, let’s leave him be.” After I said that, all the strength seemed to drain from my body. I slowly slid down the wall. The friends and family around me were clearly upset with Ryan. He was my husband, Mom’s son-in-law. When my mom was fighting for her life, no matter what he was busy with, he should’ve been here. But he wasn’t. The operating room light went out. The door opened. I looked up with desperate hope, only to see the doctors’ grim faces. My body trembled. I couldn’t believe it. Step by step, I walked toward the operating room. When I finally saw Mom’s body, tears flooded out of me like a broken dam. In that moment, I could no longer lie to myself. There was no one left in this world who would love me unconditionally. I told his parents and everyone else to go home—I didn’t want anyone staying with me at the hospital. I stayed with Mom all night. The next morning, I called a funeral home to arrange for Mom’s body and plan the service. Watching them take Mom’s body away, I pulled out my phone and texted Ryan. [Mom passed away.] I so badly wanted him to call right away, to rush to my side and hold me. But my message went unanswered, like a stone sinking in water. I let out a bitter laugh and wiped the tears from my face. I’d loved Ryan for ten years—love at first sight, five years of friendship, three years of dating, and two years of marriage. I’d grown used to having him around. But from now on, I’d have to get used to life without him.

The first time I saw him, he was wearing a white shirt—tall and straight with a bright, sunny smile. The day he proposed, I was overjoyed. When he slipped the ring onto my finger, I whispered: “For the rest of my life, it’s only you.” His smile back then was so gentle, burned into my memory forever. Before we got married, he doted on me. After we married, I never stopped loving him. But he never showed affection in public. He always said, “Our life is ours alone. What others think doesn’t matter.” I knew he was lying. Because when he was with Celeste, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other—around campus buildings, on the field, along tree-lined paths. I was jealous, but I never pushed him to change. I believed Celeste was in the past—he was my husband now, the one I’d spend my life with. But that belief crumbled every time he left me to be with Celeste. I grew more and more exhausted. Loving him was draining. Celeste called me: “Ryan was so tired from working late last night. I didn’t want him driving home, so he stayed at my place.” “But don’t worry—nothing happened between us.” Hearing the smugness in her voice, I replied calmly, “Oh. Anything else?” Celeste didn’t expect that reaction. After a pause, she said, “Jade, you’re pretty self-aware. You know making a scene won’t help.” “Thanks for the compliment.” I responded politely, then hung up and walked into a law firm down the street. I saw Ryan again the next day. I was packing up Mom’s belongings when he walked in. “Let’s go visit my parents today. I’ll change quick—wait for me, and we’ll head over together.” I didn’t object. Harold and Margaret had always been good to me. Ryan came out quickly after changing. I was shocked. He usually took at least half an hour to get ready. Then I saw Celeste waiting in the car, and it clicked. He didn’t want to keep her waiting. Celeste gave me a sweet smile. “Jade, hop in! I’ll drive today. I’m joining you guys to visit his parents.” I turned to Ryan. “You’re bringing her?” Ryan quickly explained, “Don’t overthink it. Celeste was alone and feeling down, so I invited her to come along.” “It’s just a meal, anyway. We’ll head back right after.” I smiled and opened the back door. He was right—it was just one meal. And it would be the last. “Ryan, sit up front with me so we can talk,” Celeste eagerly opened the passenger door. Ryan glanced at me hesitantly, but only for a second before getting in. I used to worry he’d feel lonely in the back seat and always told him to sit up front. But he refused—he’d rather sit alone in the back. It didn’t matter anymore. I stared out the window as the scenery blurred past, replaying the call I’d gotten earlier from the funeral home. Mom’s body was ready. Tomorrow was her funeral. They asked if I wanted to add anything to the service, suggesting I discuss it with my husband since spouses typically play an important role in funeral arrangements. But watching Ryan laugh and chat with Celeste up front, I had no desire to ask him anything. I pulled out my phone and texted the funeral home. [Remove all parts of the service involving the son-in-law. Keep everything else the same.]

“Jade, who are you texting?” Ryan suddenly asked. I didn’t even look up. “A friend.” He didn’t ask again, but for the rest of the drive, he kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror like he wanted to say something. I ignored him, keeping my eyes fixed on the window. In the past, I used to chatter nonstop during drives. He’d always act annoyed and uninterested. Now I didn’t want to talk to him at all. Harold was happy to see me, but the second he saw Celeste get out of the car, his face turned cold. Celeste pulled two bottles of wine from the trunk. Ryan smiled. “Dad, Celeste brought these for you.” “I don’t want them.” Harold grabbed the bottles and threw them to the ground. Celeste’s face fell. Her eyes watered, making her look pitiful. “Dad, what are you doing?” Ryan shouted, then turned to comfort Celeste. “What am I doing? I don’t have a son like you anymore. Now get out of my house.” Harold’s face was bright red with anger. I said gently, “Dad, don’t say things you’ll regret.” “Stop playing the victim. This is all your fault.” Ryan snapped at me. “You run to Dad with every little thing. Jade, when are you going to grow up? Tattling like a child?” I dropped my smile and nodded. “You’re right. I won’t do it again.” Harold was furious. He pointed at Ryan and shouted, “Why are you yelling at Jade? She didn’t say a word to me. I’m the one disowning you.” “Apologize to her. Now.” Ryan’s jaw tightened, his features sharp with tension. Harold raised his hand like he was going to hit him. I quickly pulled Harold inside. Ryan followed with Celeste. “Jade, I know you’re upset I didn’t come home on Christmas Eve. I can explain.” Ryan’s face was tense, his tone sharp. “I was working late that night. Celeste was worried I’d be too tired to drive, so she let me stay over. That’s all.” “Nothing happened between us. Don’t jump to conclusions.” “Got it.” I replied flatly. Whether anything happened between Ryan and Celeste that night no longer mattered to me. “Don’t you have anything to ask me?” Ryan pressed. “No.” I turned toward the kitchen to help Margaret with dinner. Ryan never cooked—he said he hated the smell of grease. After we got married, cooking became my responsibility. “Jade, don’t worry about that. Let’s talk.” Harold stopped me. He lit a cigarette and sighed. “I’m sorry about your mom. Ryan was completely out of line. As his father, I take responsibility. If you want to divorce him, Margaret and I will support you.” “I wouldn’t ask you to forgive him. I just hope that even after the divorce, you’ll still think of this as home. Come visit anytime.” I stared at my fingertips and said nothing. Ryan’s face turned pale. “Dad, what are you talking about? Why would Jade divorce me? What did I even do wrong?” “And what happened to her mother?” Harold’s hand shook as he held his cigarette, his face contorted with anger. “You still have the nerve to ask? Your mother-in-law always treated you like her own son. And you?” “She had a brain hemorrhage on Christmas Eve. She was in the hospital fighting for her life. Where were you?” “When she died, where were you?” “You have no sense of responsibility. If Jade hadn’t stuck up for you today, you wouldn’t have been allowed through that door.”

Crash. Ryan shot to his feet, his chair toppling backward. “Dad, what are you talking about?” He turned and stared at me. “Jade, tell me. Is he lying? He has to be lying.” I looked into his eyes calmly. “It’s true. My mom passed away. On Christmas Eve.” “That’s impossible.” Ryan’s voice cracked. “Jade, why didn’t you tell me something this important?” “Mom was in the hospital and you didn’t call me?” “Enough.” Harold’s voice boomed. “Jade did call you. I called you too. But what did you do?” Harold pointed at Celeste. “You were busy with some woman. You hung up on me before I could even finish. And now you’re blaming Jade? How did I raise a son like you?” “No. No, that’s not—” Ryan’s forehead glistened with sweat. “Dad, I didn’t know. I swear. I thought—I thought Jade was just complaining to you, trying to guilt me into coming home.” “Jade, you know how much your mom meant to me. How could I not care? I really didn’t know.” “If I had known, I would’ve dropped everything to be at the hospital.” Celeste spoke up in a soft voice. “Jade, don’t blame Ryan. It’s my fault. I saw how exhausted he was and told him to rest. If you’re going to blame anyone, blame me.” “I’m sorry.” She stood and gave me a small bow. I stayed seated and said calmly, “I don’t blame you. I don’t blame Ryan either. Mom just had bad luck. So did I.” “Dad, it doesn’t look like we’ll be having lunch today. I’m going to head out.” I stood and walked toward the door. “Wait.” Ryan grabbed my wrist hard enough to hurt. “Where is she? Where’s your mother’s body? I need to kneel before her and beg for forgiveness.” I gently pulled my wrist free, my movements soft but firm. “You don’t need to. My mom probably doesn’t want to see you.” When Ryan and I got married, Mom was so happy. She told me more than once to treat him well. She said it wasn’t easy for two people to make it to marriage—that we could argue, but we should never say cruel things, and never talk about divorce lightly. I took it to heart. After we married, I never fought with him. I swallowed every bit of hurt. But what happened on Christmas Eve made me see the truth: love isn’t just about compromise. No matter how much I gave, how much I bent, if our hearts weren’t in the same place, we’d never make it work. In Ryan’s heart, Celeste always came first. His love was never really mine. “Jade.”

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The year my daughter needed me most, I left her at a foster home and married a wealthy man instead. Five years later, she became an A-list celebrity. Her first move after hitting the big time? Calling me during her victory livestream. Watching me rush to collect a free meal from the community kitchen, she pulled her manager close with a satisfied smirk: “If you’d just stuck it out a bit longer back then, you could be living the high life with me now. Regretting it yet?” I grinned. “Oh yeah? Prove it. Wire me a hundred grand.” She hung up, furious. My phone buzzed. A hundred thousand dollars hit my account. I called her back: “Wow, color me impressed! Send another hundred grand!” “Dream on!” Right as she went to hang up, I rapped my bandaged hand against the camera: “Haha, just messing with you. Keep your money.” My smile faded. I reached up and pulled off the scarf entirely. Revealing a face weathered by chronic illness. I smiled and waved at the camera: “By the time you’re watching this recording, I’ll already be gone.” “But hey—look at you! You made it, Violet Lane!” “I always knew you would! Haha~” “Shocked? I figured once you hit stardom, you’d come back to rub it in. How’s that—called it, didn’t I?” Violet shot to her feet. She took a step forward, then froze. A bitter laugh escaped her as she turned to the host: “How much did she pay you to stage this whole thing?” The host froze: “Violet, your mother’s will specified that if we ever connected with you, we should play this recording instead.” “Will?” Violet laughed bitterly: “A selfish woman like her? She hasn’t had enough good days yet. Why would she give that up? Trying to guilt me now?” She grabbed her manager’s hand. “Sorry, but when I needed her most, she walked out on me.” She glared at the screen. “She doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near me.” “Violet, I know you hate me.” The second she turned away, my voice came through: “After I left you, I never had an easy life. Don’t worry about that.” “Still mad? Think of this goodbye video as my way of letting you vent. And if you don’t want to watch, that’s okay too.” “And seriously—congratulations on becoming a star!” Violet spun back around. The screen showed footage from every day and night from the day I left her until the end.

I picked up my handheld camera and forced a smile at the lens: “Today… let’s pretend I’m having one last meal with my Violet.” I held up the bowl of oatmeal and imagined my daughter sitting across from me. I smiled at the empty space, like I was answering an unasked question: “You’re wondering about Violet? She… has work. She can’t make it today.” I bowed my head and took a spoonful of oatmeal. Suddenly, a violent coughing fit hit me. I lurched sideways and spat a mouthful of blood-flecked oatmeal into the trash can by my feet, then quickly covered it with crumpled paper. I wiped the corner of my mouth and managed a weak smile for the camera. “End-stage kidney failure… it’s no walk in the park… Did I scare you, honey?” I lifted the camera, angling it to show myself and the empty chair across from me: “Quick, let’s get this ‘lonely mom special’ on film. Once I’m gone, you won’t get to see me like this anymore.” The lens caught only my forced smile. I held it there, staring for a long, long moment. “Violet… do you think… if I wasn’t here one day, would you… would you ever think of me?” I paused, resting my cheek gently against the cold table edge: “Sometimes I have these silly thoughts. If I turned into a bug, would you even recognize me?” I shook my head, muttering to myself: “No, a bug’s no good… maybe a little bird instead. I’d be the kind you loved as a kid—a cardinal with a clear, sweet song. If you ever missed me, I’d land on your windowsill and sing for you.” “I promise I won’t wake you up or make a mess on your windowsill…” My voice trailed off until it dissolved into quiet sobs. Dinner was finished. I leaned against the wall, shuffling slowly over to that old cabinet. In the bottom drawer, under everything else, was money I’d secretly stashed away over the years. I put it all on a bank card and carefully wrote the PIN on the back. Then I found that copy of *The Education of the Heart* I’d bought years ago and slipped the card inside. After a moment’s thought, I pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and wrote: [Violet, Mom will come back as a little bird to see you] Tears finally came pouring out, splashing heavily onto the floor. “My daughter… Mom really wishes… I could really become a little bird…”

“What do you mean my condition got worse and you told them not to let me back?!” In the footage, I clutched my test results, confronting the doctor angrily. “Clara, please calm down!” The attending physician blocked my path. “Your physical condition is too poor. There’s nothing we can do. Besides, you haven’t paid your hospital bills in a long time…” My eyes reddened as I stared at him: “You all knew about this?” I looked around at the silent nurses and other patients. “So you just gave up on me like that?” Everyone looked down. “Clara…” The doctor sighed. “You know your situation. The treatment costs are way beyond what you can afford. I recommend you just get some painkillers and spend your final days at home.” I shook my head, eyes red: “You’re lying… You’re all lying!” I grabbed the doctor’s white coat tightly: “Today is April first… April Fools’ Day. You’re just trying to scare me, right? Tell me it’s a joke!” The doctor turned his face away, silent. I collapsed onto the hospital’s cold corridor floor. Tears hit the clean tiles. “It’s over…” April first. April Fools’ Day. The day I found out my body was shutting down fast. What was even crueler? No one was joking. I don’t remember how I made it back to that basement room. For two weeks straight, I wandered around in a fog, like a zombie. On the way back from the hospital with painkillers, I didn’t even feel the raindrops hitting my face. It wasn’t until I bumped into someone that I snapped out of it, scrambling to help her pick up scattered papers: “I’m so sorry, so sorry…” When I saw the title on the top document—”Adoption Certificate”—followed by the name “Violet Lane,” my hands froze.

“Mom?” Violet was already dressed in the latest designer clothes, standing beside a well-dressed middle-aged woman. My faded old jacket and mud-spattered pants looked totally out of place. A hint of satisfaction crossed her face: “Look at you. What happened—did that rich guy dump you?” I looked up. Our eyes met—mine red-rimmed, hers suddenly stiffening. I handed back the scattered papers and turned to leave. “Mom!” She grabbed my arm: “My new mom… she treats me really well.” Of course I knew that. But I still managed a smile: “Really? That’s great.” She held onto my arm when I tried to pull away, her eyes getting a little red: “What I mean is, if you can’t make it anymore, you can tell me!” “I’m not… I’m…” I clutched the painkillers tightly. “I’m doing okay.” “Are you?” She tugged my hand, revealing the worn old bracelet on my wrist. When she was five, she’d used her saved allowance to buy materials and weave this bracelet for me. “Don’t tell me you can’t even afford a new one now!” She said it through clenched teeth. I noticed she wore an elegant watch on her wrist, no other jewelry. Our eyes met. A flicker of hope crossed hers. The next second, I ripped off the bracelet and tossed it into the storm drain. “Mom!” Her voice mixed with the rain, angry but tight with emotion. Tears streaming down my face, I kept walking. I didn’t look back. That night, I went back to the same spot in the pouring rain. A leaf? No… A pebble? No… Where’s my bracelet? I dropped my umbrella and knelt on the ground, digging with my hands. Dizzy. Nauseous. But… I can’t lose it… A dog barked. I lunged toward the sound frantically. Where the little dog had been, I found the bracelet in the muddy water. I reached out to pet the dog’s head. But instead, I collapsed face-first into the mud with a splash.

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My boyfriend, Brandon, was desperate to claw his way into elite social circles and insisted we go to that high-end club. I wanted to refuse, but his eyes were red as he swore it was his one big break. The moment we entered the VIP room, his childhood sweetheart Tiffany, draped in designer labels, sneered. “Brandon, is this your girlfriend? She looks awfully familiar. Isn’t she one of the dancers here?” “Last week, I saw you giving a lap dance to some old man. You were down to a G-string, but I admit, you have a good figure.” She finished, then feigned regret, covering her mouth. “Oops, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” The room of rich kids burst into laughter. “How much for a dance? Give me one too!” Brandon’s face turned crimson, then pale with humiliation. He pointed at the door and told me to get out. But I just slowly settled onto the sofa, watching Tiffany with a smirk. “It’s perfectly normal I look familiar. After all, your father was practically on his knees begging me for an investment last week. Also, this club is the least valuable property in my portfolio.”

To even enter The Summit Club, Brandon had spent half a year’s salary. Standing before its gilded doors, his palms were damp with sweat. He gripped my hand, his hold so tight it almost hurt. “Aria, once we’re inside, just smile and keep quiet.” He instructed me again, his voice trembling. “We can’t afford to offend anyone in there. Don’t you dare embarrass me.” I frowned, trying to pull my hand free, but he tightened his grip even more. “I know you don’t like these kinds of places, but this is about my future.” Brandon’s eyes were red, his words pleading. “If I can just get in with Chad, I can secure that construction project, and we won’t have to be stuck in our cramped studio, surviving on ramen anymore.” Seeing him so tense and yet so excited, I swallowed the words I was about to say. What I wanted to tell him was that I already had a membership card here – one of those Founder’s Black Cards that didn’t require any top-ups. As for Chad, I’d had him thrown out last week for smoking in a private room. But before I could speak, the doorman had already pulled open the grand doors. The moment the doorman saw me, his face went white. He instinctively began to bow and greet me. My gaze chilled slightly. I subtly raised a finger to my lips, signaling him to keep quiet. He reacted fast, stopping mid-bow, though the hand holding the door still trembled. Brandon was too busy taking deep breaths and composing himself to notice anything amiss. Brandon inhaled deeply, straightened his back, plastered on an obsequious smile, and pulled me inside. Pushing the door open, the room was thick with smoke, the music throbbed. A dozen or so impeccably dressed young men and women were sprawled on sofas, the coffee tables laden with expensive liquor. “Is this Brandon?” A guy with a buzz cut, sitting in the center, lifted his eyelids, casually glancing at us. It was Chad. Brandon immediately bent low, offering a box of cigars he’d clearly prepared, and even moved to light one for him. “Chad, hi, we met at the bar last time.” Chad didn’t take the cigar. He just scoffed, his gaze sliding past Brandon and landing on me. In that instant, I saw a flicker of confusion in his eyes. After all, I’d worn the same icy expression when I had him kicked out last week. Just then, a sharp female voice cut through the awkwardness. “Oh, is this Brandon’s girlfriend?” The woman sitting next to Chad stood up. She was wearing the latest Chanel, her makeup flawless, but her eyes held a distinct malice. Tiffany. Brandon’s childhood friend. And the woman who’d always kept Brandon on a leash, treating him like her personal backup. Brandon’s eyes visibly brightened when he saw her, then he looked a bit flustered. “Tiffany, you’re here too.” Tiffany ignored him, walking directly toward me and sizing me up. Then, she covered her mouth, feigning surprise as she exclaimed. “You look so familiar! Aren’t you the new stripper here?”

The music still played, but all other conversations died. A dozen pairs of eyes fixed on me, filled with amusement and disdain. Brandon’s smile froze. He instinctively let go of my hand and took half a step back. That simple action sent a chill through me. I raised an eyebrow, looking at Tiffany’s face, which was practically radiating malice. “Ms. Hayes, you shouldn’t just throw around accusations.” My tone was flat. Tiffany, however, laughed exaggeratedly, bending at the waist. She turned to the people in the room and declared loudly, “Why would I lie?” “Last week, I came here with Chad, and I personally saw her giving a lap dance to some old man!” She gestured with her hands as she spoke. “I saw the man’s back; he was short, fat, and bald, clearly a sleazy, newly-rich guy.” “That day, she was down to just a G-string! Her figure was actually pretty good!” “After the dance, she even left with that old man.” Finished, she turned, looking at Brandon’s ashen face, and blinked innocently. “Oh, sorry. I forgot she’s your girlfriend now. I shouldn’t have said anything.” “But Brandon, you’re so careless. How can you bring this kind of woman to a place like this?” “What if one of the regulars recognizes her? Where would Chad’s reputation stand then?” Her words instantly ignited the room. “Holy crap, she’s a stripper?!” “I knew it! Look at her cheap clothes, probably not even two hundred bucks head to toe. How else would she hook up with Brandon?” “Women these days will do anything for money.” “Dude, she’s openly making a fool of you, and you’re just gonna stand there?” Chad leaned back on the sofa, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at Brandon, his eyes full of amusement. “Brandon, your taste is certainly… unique.” “How much does your girlfriend charge for a lap dance? Why don’t she give us one today?” Laughter erupted. Someone whistled, someone started chanting for me to take my clothes off. Brandon’s face cycled from green to white, veins throbbing on his forehead. He frantically glanced at the disgusted looks around him, then at me. A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes. But when Chad’s contemptuous laugh reached his ears, that hesitation twisted into ruthless self-preservation. He yanked his hand from mine, retreating to Tiffany’s side. Then, with an intentionally raised voice, he roared at everyone, “Aria! You’ve disappointed me so much!” “I brought you here to experience the world, and you’ve been doing… such despicable things behind my back!” I looked at the man I’d once thought was honest and reliable. “If I said it wasn’t true, would you believe me?” I countered. Brandon didn’t even look at me. He just gritted his teeth, turning to Tiffany with a placating smile. “Tiffany saw it herself. How could it be fake?” “No wonder you came home so late last Friday night and wouldn’t answer your phone!” “When I asked you where you were, you said you were working overtime! So, this is where you were working overtime?!” He spoke louder and louder, as if volume could drown out his own insecurity. “I’m slaving away for our future, and you’re doing such low-down dirty work behind my back!” “Aria, you disgust me!”

I looked at Brandon’s twisted face and smiled. Last Friday? Yes, I was indeed at The Summit Club, busy handling the equity transfers and management purge. I didn’t answer my phone because I was in a board meeting. And the sleazy, newly rich old man Tiffany described? That was her own father, Mr. Hayes. That day, Mr. Hayes had indeed hired a stripper for a lap dance at this very club, which I own. I was celebrating a friend’s birthday at the club at the time. Later, as my friend and I were leaving, Mr. Hayes suddenly spotted me. He cornered me in the hallway, crying and begging for more investment for his failing company. He even tried to kneel. It took a good while for my security guards to drag him out. “Well? Say something! Cat got your tongue?” Seeing my silence, Brandon assumed I was guilty, and his confidence swelled. Tiffany added fuel to the fire. “Brandon, don’t blame your girlfriend. After all, a place like The Summit Club is so expensive. If she wants a designer bag, she definitely has to pay a price.” She picked up a bottle of red wine from the table and walked over to me. “Since we’re all here to have fun, why don’t you show us what you’ve got?” “This bottle is Chad’s prized collection. If you can chug it all, I’ll consider it your apology.” With that, she flicked her wrist. Over half the bottle of red wine splashed directly onto my clothes. The liquid ran down my collar, soaking my white T-shirt, which instantly clung to my skin. When the wine was thrown, Brandon didn’t even try to shield me. Instead, he quickly jumped away, terrified of getting his expensive suit stained. “Oops, butterfingers.” Tiffany covered her mouth, but couldn’t hide the triumphant gleam in her eyes. “Sweetie, you’re not going to get mad, are you? It’s just a cheap knock-off anyway.” Everyone around roared with laughter. Chad slapped his thigh, pointing at me. “Alright, clean up that mess, and then get out.” “Don’t stand there in my sight, you’re ruining my mood.” I looked down at the wine stain on my chest, then at Brandon, who stood nearby with a look of utter disgust. “Brandon, this is the circle you want to be a part of?” I asked him coldly. Brandon avoided my gaze, gritting his teeth. “How much longer are you going to make a scene?” “Tiffany said it was an accident. Just apologize and leave.” “Don’t make things harder for me here!” Apologize? After being splashed with wine, slandered, and humiliated, he wanted me to apologize? In that moment, I finally understood. In this man’s heart, my dignity meant less than nothing to these trust fund babies. For his petty vanity, he would stomp me into the mud without a second thought. “Alright, fine.” I nodded, reaching for the tissues on the table, and slowly wiped the wine from my hands. “Brandon, remember what you just said.” I crumpled the soiled tissues into a ball and tossed them directly onto Brandon’s suit, the one he’d spent three months’ salary on. “What are you doing?!” Brandon shrieked, frantically batting the tissue ball off his suit. “Aria, are you crazy?! This suit is expensive!” “Since you think I’ve embarrassed you, let’s break up,” I said calmly. “From this moment on, we have nothing to do with each other.” Brandon froze, then his face flushed crimson. “Break up? Who the hell do you think you’re scaring?” “Who would want a dirty woman like you after me?” “Get out! Don’t ever let me see you again!!” He pointed wildly at the door, yelling like a madman.

Tiffany triumphantly linked her arm through Brandon’s, cooing. “Brandon, don’t be angry. She’s not worth it.” “Chad, tell security to kick her out. No need to spoil everyone’s fun.” Chad waved a hand. “Get the manager in here. Let him see what kind of trash they’re letting in.” The VIP room door swung open. Mr. Dawson, the General Manager of The Summit Club, rushed in, sweating profusely. He’d seen me enter this room on the surveillance cameras and was clearly terrified. “Chad, what can I do for you?” Mr. Dawson bowed, his tone deferential, but his eyes darted around the room, clearly searching for me. “Mr. Dawson, has The Summit Club’s standard dropped?” Chad pointed at me, his face full of disdain. “You just let any prostitute walk in here?” “Get her out, and don’t let me see her again.” Tiffany chimed in. “Exactly, Mr. Dawson. This woman is lowering The Summit Club’s class.” “Look, she’s even dirtied the floor. Make her kneel and clean it before she leaves!” Mr. Dawson followed their pointing fingers to me. When he saw the wine stain on my clothes and my disheveled appearance, the color drained from his face completely. He froze in place, his lips trembling, unable to speak. I calmly walked to the main leather sofa. The two trust fund babies who were sitting there instinctively started to curse when they saw me approach. But I just gave them a cold stare, and they inexplicably fell silent, even making way for me. I sat down, crossed my legs, and leaned back into the chair. I picked up an unopened bottle of Romanée-Conti from the table, weighing it in my hand. “Mr. Dawson.” I called out. Mr. Dawson shuddered, then dropped to his knees in front of me with a thud. That sudden genuflection stunned everyone. Brandon’s eyes nearly popped out. Chad’s wine glass slipped from his hand, hitting the floor and shattering. Tiffany’s smile froze. “Boss…” Mr. Dawson’s voice trembled, his forehead pressed to the floor. He didn’t dare lift his head. “This was my negligence. I deserve to die. I’m so sorry you were disturbed!” Boss? The word struck everyone like a hammer. Brandon’s mouth hung open, his eyes fixed on me as if seeing a stranger. Chad’s face drained of all color. He knew better than anyone who truly owned The Summit Club. That was Aria Knight, the heiress of the Knight Empire, a name the entire business elite knelt before. The woman rumored to possess a sharp mind, ruthless tactics, and a fortune in the billions. I ignored Mr. Dawson’s pleas and turned to Tiffany, who was now trembling in terror. “Tiffany, you called that old man short and ugly?” I rose slowly to my feet and advanced toward her, step by step. “Did you know that the ‘creepy old man’ begging me for an investment in the hallway, even trying to kneel, was your own father, Mr. Hayes?” “And this club? It truly is the least valuable of all my assets.”

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During the ultrasound, I heard two babies arguing inside my womb. One voice was sweet and whiny. “Stop shoving me.” The other snapped back, fierce and territorial. “Get out. This is my space.” Overjoyed, I turned to the doctor. “It’s twins?” The doctor’s eyes flicked toward my husband, Julian Thorne, behind me, then he shook his head. “You’re mistaken, Mrs. Thorne. There’s only one.” Julian smiled, wrapping an arm around me. “You must have imagined it.” Really? But I heard the fierce baby’s sneer as clear as day. “He’d better keep his mouth shut. If he dares tell the truth, my father will end him.” His words instantly put me on high alert. What did this fierce baby mean? I touched my belly, my palms cold, a terrifying thought taking root deep within me. Julian carried over a glass of warm milk, placing it thoughtfully by my hand. “What’s wrong? Still thinking about twins? Don’t overthink it, the doctor said there’s only one. Let’s just focus on nurturing this one.” His smile was gentle, his eyes full of adoration, exactly as they were when I first met him. I lowered my gaze, hiding the coldness in my eyes, and obediently took the milk. Then I asked, feigning nonchalance, “Julian, a friend of mine is also pregnant, and she’s having twins. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had two babies too?” I stared intently at his face, not wanting to miss any expression. His hand, holding the mug, paused. “Twins are too risky. I just want you and our baby to be safe and sound.” His voice was still gentle, but tight with tension. That night, I pretended to be asleep in bed. Julian tiptoed in, believing I was truly asleep. He stood by the bed for a long time, so long I almost couldn’t keep up the act. Then, I felt his cold fingers gently rest on my belly. He seemed to be calculating something. I stiffened, barely daring to breathe. The soft baby whimpered, “I’m scared…” The fierce baby immediately soothed, “Don’t be. Just stay put, don’t let him find me.” A cold dread settled in my stomach. The fierce baby was afraid someone would discover him? Was he afraid of Julian? Just then, I heard Julian let out a barely audible sigh, then turn and walk out of the room. The next day, Julian told me he’d gotten me a new cell phone. “Less radiation, better for the baby,” he said, smiling. I looked at the old-fashioned phone, so basic it could only make calls and send texts, and a cold laugh echoed in my heart. Less radiation, or easier to monitor? He took my old phone, skillfully formatting all the data. My heart sank, piece by piece. Within two days, Julian’s mother, Amanda, suddenly moved into our villa. She brought an entire team: a nutritionist, a nanny, and two expressionless bodyguards. She said it was to take better care of me. “Elara Thompson, starting today, your meals will be Vera’s responsibility. She’s the most professional prenatal nutritionist.” Amanda sat on the sofa, speaking in a commanding tone. I looked at the woman named Vera; she adjusted her glasses, her gaze sharp. My life was completely taken over. I couldn’t go out, couldn’t see friends. My daily range of activity was confined to this villa. Julian came back every day, showering me with concern. But to me, it was no different from imprisonment.

The fierce baby seemed to sense the danger too. “That old witch is up to no good. She’s been adding something to the soup she gives you. It’s small amounts, but it’s consistent.” I held the bowl, even managing a placating smile at Amanda. “Thank you, it’s really delicious.” Amanda’s lips curved up in satisfaction. I tipped the bowl back, draining it completely. Then, I used the excuse of needing the restroom, rushed into the bathroom, and forced myself to vomit by sticking my fingers down my throat. I vomited until nothing but bile remained, then collapsed onto the floor, exhausted. I couldn’t sit idly by and wait for death any longer. I had to contact the outside world. I remembered I had a spare phone, hidden in an old briefcase in the innermost part of my walk-in closet. During a bodyguard shift change, I slipped into the closet and locked the door. I found the phone; thankfully, it still had power. Fumbling frantically, I called my best friend, Chloe Green. The phone rang only once before it was picked up. “Hello? Elara?” The moment I heard Chloe’s voice, tears welled in my eyes. “Chloe, I…” I only managed three words before the closet door was suddenly kicked open from the outside. Amanda stood at the doorway, two bodyguards behind her, a chilling smile on her face. “Elara Thompson, who are you calling?” She walked towards me, step by step, her heels clacking against the floor, each sound a hammer blow against my chest. I instinctively hid the phone behind my back. She didn’t give me a chance to react; with a single glance, one of the bodyguards rushed forward, roughly snatching my phone. Amanda took the phone and glanced at the name on the screen. “Chloe?” She let out a short, dismissive laugh. “It seems I’ve been too lenient with you.” With that, she smashed the phone to the floor right in front of me. The screen shattered instantly. “Anything or anyone that might disrupt your pregnancy, I will eliminate completely.” She finished, then turned and walked away. That night, when Julian returned, Amanda told him what had happened. I thought he would at least speak up for me. But he just listened in silence, then walked to my side and knelt down. “Elara, Mom is doing this for your own good. Right now, the most important thing is for you to rest and nurture our baby, don’t think so much.” His voice was as gentle as a placid lake, yet it sent a chill to my very bones. I looked at him, asking, enunciating each word carefully, “Julian Thorne, I am your wife, not some tool your family keeps for breeding.” His veneer of gentleness cracked. “How can you think that? I love you, Elara.” The fierce baby in my belly sneered. “Love? His love means locking you up and then trying to kill one of your children.” I closed my eyes, not wanting to see his hypocritical face anymore. From that day on, their surveillance tightened even further. Two bodyguards guarded my bedroom door, never leaving. I couldn’t even close the bathroom door when I used it. I started a hunger strike. It was the only way I could fight back. On the first day, Amanda watched with cold indifference. On the second day, she started threatening me. “Elara Thompson, don’t push your luck. If you harm my grandchild, I’ll make sure your whole family suffers the consequences.” My parents were my only weakness. I glared at her with reddened eyes. “You wouldn’t dare!” “Just watch me.”

She tossed a document onto the table. “Your parents’ restaurant, seems the recent health inspections haven’t gone so well.” I trembled with rage. I had no choice but to compromise. I started eating, but every bite felt like swallowing razor blades. I had to find a way; I couldn’t let them succeed. A plan slowly began to form in my mind. That afternoon, when the maid, Lucy, wasn’t looking, I secretly poured some shower gel on the bathroom floor. Then, I slipped and fell heavily. “Ah!” I cried out, clutching my belly. Lucy’s face went white with fright, and she screamed, running out to get help. Soon, Julian and Amanda rushed in. Seeing me on the floor, a faint trace of blood beneath me, Julian’s face instantly drained of color. “Quick! Call Dr. Miller!” Amanda shouted. My heart sank. Again, the family doctor. My gamble was that they would panic and send me to the nearest public hospital. I had lost my bet. But my mind raced, trying to figure out how to use this “injury” to create the next opportunity. Dr. Miller, the family doctor, arrived quickly. He performed a series of examinations, then shook his head at Julian and Amanda. “She took a significant fall. It has threatened the pregnancy, and she requires immediate, strict bed rest. I recommend starting her on a nutrient IV to stabilize the fetus.” I lay in bed, cold all over. I heard the fierce voice in my belly curse furiously. “Foolish woman! Do you think they’re blind? This pathetic sympathy ploy will only make them despise you more!” I closed my eyes in despair. Cold liquid flowed slowly into my body through the IV tube. Soon, an overwhelming wave of drowsiness washed over me. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Before I completely lost consciousness, I heard the soft baby whimper: “I feel so bad… my body’s so hot…” Immediately after, the fierce male voice roared: “Damn it! They’re drugging her! This medicine is meant for me! They’re trying to kill me!” My consciousness drifted in and out of the darkness, my body burning as if on fire. No, I couldn’t sleep. Summoning every last ounce of strength, I bit my tongue hard. The sharp pain brought me back to my senses, if only for a moment. I opened my eyes; the room was empty. On the back of my hand, the cold liquid continued to flow into my veins. This was it, this thing, it was trying to kill my baby. With my other hand, the one not hooked up, I trembled and ripped the needle from the back of my hand. A blinding pain made my vision go dark, a tearing, burning sensation searing through my veins. Ignoring the pain, I scrambled off the bed, stumbling into the bathroom and locking the door. I turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on my face again and again, trying to stay awake. The drug was potent; my body grew hotter and hotter, but my limbs were starting to go numb. Inside my belly, the fierce voice also sounded weak: “Hold on… stupid woman… don’t fall asleep…” I slid to the floor, leaning against the cold wall, gasping for breath. Not long after, urgent footsteps echoed outside. “Elara! Open the door!” It was Julian’s voice, tinged with panic. I didn’t make a sound. “Break down the door!” Amanda’s sharp voice cut through the silence. The bathroom door was kicked open.

Julian rushed in, his face instantly contorted into a mask of pure horror as he saw me slumped on the floor, the pool of blood at his feet, and the pulled-out IV needle on the bedsheet. He quickly came forward, grabbing my arm. “Elara Thompson! Are you insane?! Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” His grip was so strong it hurt. I looked up at his face, etched with concern and fury, and suddenly smiled. “What am I doing? Julian, why don’t you ask yourself what you’re doing?” I pointed at the IV bag still standing on the bedside table. “What’s in there? ‘Nutrient solution’? Do you take me for a fool?” “What exactly is that?! Why are you trying to kill our baby?!” I practically screamed. Julian’s expression froze, panic in his eyes quickly replaced by anguish. “Elara, calm down, it’s not what you think.” He tried to hug me, but I shoved him away. “It’s not what I think? Then what is it? Tell me!” Amanda stood at the doorway, watching our play-acting with cold indifference. “Julian, why waste words on her? Since she’s seeking death, then let her…” “Mom!” Julian abruptly cut her off, glancing back at her. Amanda’s face shifted, but she finally clamped her mouth shut, though the venom in her eyes remained undiluted. Julian turned back to me, a pained expression on his face. He knelt down, taking my hand, his voice hoarse. “Elara, I’m sorry, I’ve been hiding it from you.” “We are, indeed, having twins.” My heart skipped a beat. “But…” He took a deep breath, his eyes reddened. “Through the Thorne family’s most advanced genetic screening, we discovered… we discovered that the boy has a very severe congenital heart defect.” “The doctors said he wouldn’t live past one year old. And his presence would severely impact the healthy baby, and even you.” “So… we decided to only keep the healthy one.” He spoke tearfully, but I could sense his hidden triumph. “Bullshit! My heart beats stronger than anyone’s! He’s just trying to find an excuse to kill me!” The fierce voice, though weak, was full of conviction. Watching him fabricate lies without batting an eye, a chill settled in my heart. I lowered my head, my shoulders began to shake, faking sobs. “Really? Our baby… he…” I sobbed uncontrollably, my body trembling. Julian immediately pulled me into his arms, gently patting my back. “I’m sorry, Elara. I didn’t want to upset you, that’s why I kept it hidden. We were doing it for your own good, for the good of our healthy baby.” I buried my face in his chest, and from the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Amanda at the doorway. The tense lines on her face finally relaxed, and she even gave Dr. Miller a knowing look. They both thought I believed him. I continued to “sadly” cry, my mind, however, racing. Heart defect? That lie was too clumsy. But why would they tell such a lie? Why were they so insistent on getting rid of the boy and keeping the girl? “Will you really die?” The soft, whiny voice sounded incredibly sad. “Don’t listen to his nonsense.” The fierce voice held a hint of impatience, but more soothing. “We’re boy-girl twins. They’re not afraid of me being sick; they’re afraid of me.” Afraid of him? Why would they be afraid of an unborn infant? Behind this, there had to be a much bigger secret.

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At my male friend Daniel’s engagement party, his phone suddenly got ninety-nine extremely explicit videos. He freaked out, wanting to delete them, but his fiancée, Scarlett, snatched the phone right out of his hand. Scarlett had always seen me as a thorn in her side, convinced there was something inappropriate going on between Daniel and me. I never thought that during the climax of the ring exchange ceremony, she would force me to connect my phone to the big screen. I broke out in a sweat, desperately holding down the screen mirroring button and trying to dissuade her. “Scarlett, these videos really can’t be played…” But Scarlett’s face twisted with venomous resentment, and she shoved me hard in front of all the guests. “Now you care this? When you were busy seducing my fiancé, why didn’t you ever consider what a day like this would bring?!” “Today, I’m going to make all our friends see how much of a slut you really are in bed!” I froze. But the main characters in those videos were clearly you and Daniel.

At Daniel and Scarlett’s engagement party, I was about to hit play, ready to display their “Our Love Story” slideshow. Suddenly, Scarlett snatched the mouse from the table and smirked at all the guests. “Today, on this wonderful occasion, on behalf of the Davies family, I invite everyone to enjoy something truly special!” Before I could react, she operated the screen mirroring and directly opened a deeply hidden folder on the desktop. I recognized that folder instantly. It was the “Private Collection” that Daniel, due to a cloud sync error, had accidentally uploaded to my work computer three days ago. Both Daniel and I, who were working late, had been startled by it. Daniel’s face went ghost-white, and he practically begged me on his knees to delete the folder. At the time, I just assumed it was some inappropriate videos he’d downloaded from the internet, and I didn’t think much of it. Watching Scarlett’s finger about to click, I rushed forward like a madwoman, trying to stop her. “Don’t click it! Please! These videos really can’t be played!” I tried to make my voice sound earnest, even though I was already worried. “The stuff in that folder, it really shouldn’t be seen.” “There are so many family members and esteemed guests here; let’s not make a complete fool of ourselves.” “Just give me the phone, and we can talk backstage, okay?” Scarlett laughed. “Embarrassing?” “You didn’t feel embarrassed when you were seducing my man, did you?” She turned to face the guests, her eyes filled with a crazed glint. “Ladies and gentlemen, since Cassidy doesn’t want you to see it, I’m going to make sure you all see it crystal clear!” “Let’s all see just how utterly shameless this woman, who usually pretends to be so innocent, really gets in bed!” The bridesmaids in the audience started to jeer and egg her on. “Yeah! Don’t be a coward!” “Play it! I want to hear what kind of sounds a bitch like her makes!” In the corner, I saw Daniel. The groom, who should have been standing up, was hiding behind a champagne-colored pillar. His face was pale, and he was trembling like a leaf, his hand clamped over his mouth, not daring to make a sound. My heart sank. Scarlett didn’t give me any chance to explain. She slammed down the Enter key. The big screen instantly lit up. The first video began to play. The light was dim, and the camera was shaking violently. Loud, suggestive moans and gasps that made everyone uncomfortable echoed from the speakers. There were only two overlapping, blurry figures in the frame. The entire hall erupted in murmurs. Scarlett pointed at the figures on the screen, a cold smirk on her face. “Everyone, look closely!” “Whose figure could that be if not Cassidy’s?” “Daniel told me before that some women are just so trashy, they’ll practically give themselves away for free!” I looked at the blurry figure on the screen. Was that my back? If I tried to refute her now, she’d just release more. I could only grit my teeth, enduring the scornful glances from others. “That’s not me.” I offered a weak denial. Scarlett didn’t listen. “Not you? Then who the hell is it, a ghost?” “Cassidy, the evidence is undeniable, and you still want to deny it?” “It seems one video isn’t enough to make you give up.” Her finger slid the mouse again. “Then let’s have something even more thrilling!” “This next one, let’s see you try to talk your way out of this one!” Scarlett clicked on the second video file. This time, the light was much brighter. The scene shifted; it was no longer a blurry hotel room. The background showed two massive ornate pillars, and a rose-covered feature wall. The entire hall instantly went wild. Someone gasped loudly: “Hey? Isn’t that Daniel and Scarlett’s new house?” “I’ve been to their place; Scarlett had those pillars custom-made!” “Oh my god, Cassidy and Daniel were actually hooking up on their bed!”

The murmurs grew louder. Scarlett froze for a moment. She obviously recognized her own wedding suite. In that instant, the expression on her face stiffened. She whipped her head around, her eyes practically bulging out of her head, glaring fiercely at me. “You actually snuck into our wedding suite to seduce Daniel when I wasn’t home?” “That’s our bed! The bed I’m supposed to use when I get married!” Scarlett’s voice cracked with extreme rage, becoming shrill and piercing. “How could you be so trashy?!” “Messing around on someone else’s wedding bed? Aren’t you afraid of what karma will bring you?!” In her twisted victim narrative, everything became my premeditated scheme. The guests in the hall were swayed. “Oh my god, how utterly shameless is that?” “Women like her are terrifying; seriously, you gotta watch out for your friends!” Suddenly, a figure rushed out from the main table. It was Mrs. Davies, Daniel’s mother, who had always been so kind to me. She rushed up to me and slapped me across the face. My head snapped to the side, my ears rang, and my cheek stung with a fiery pain. “I treated you like my own flesh and blood! How could you betray me by sleeping with my son?!” She pointed a trembling finger at my nose. “Are you that desperate for male attention?” “You’ve utterly disappointed me! Get out! I’ll pretend I never took care of you!” I covered my stinging cheek, looking at her eyes filled with disappointment, and my heart ached so much I couldn’t breathe. When I was little and bullied, she was the one who held my hand and helped me get justice. I had always depended on her. But now, even she didn’t believe me. I opened my mouth, wanting to explain. But looking at Scarlett’s enraged face, at Mrs. Davies’s disappointed eyes, and at Daniel, who was still trying to act invisible in the corner… I suddenly felt that explanations were pointless. This family is completely hopeless. Scarlett’s triumph in her eyes grew stronger when she saw me get hit. She frantically dragged the video’s progress bar. “Serves you right!” “This bitch totally deserves it!” “Don’t worry, everyone, I’m going to show you her face!” “I’m going to let everyone see how utterly shameless her expression is on my bed!” The mouse clicked loudly. The images on the screen flashed rapidly. It was all wild intertwining of two naked bodies, sweat flying. But precisely because of the camera angle, only the woman’s back or a side profile obscured by hair was visible. No frontal view. The more Scarlett searched, the more agitated she became, fine beads of sweat appearing on her forehead. She frantically rummaged through that folder. “Why is it all backs?!” “Daniel, that incompetent idiot, couldn’t even manage to film a proper frontal shot?!” She cursed as she clicked on the third video. The screen image jumped. This time, it was inside a car. A cramped space, a shaking camera, wild moans and muffled grunts… Through the car window, the blur of passing streetlights was visible. It was the back seat of Daniel’s unmistakable black SUV. Everyone recognized it. Scarlett’s eyes grew even redder. “Car sex? Wow, Cassidy, you really get around, don’t you?” “You usually act so detached and sophisticated at the office, but you like this kind of kink?” I ignored her humiliation. While everyone’s attention was on the big screen, I secretly pulled out my own phone. This was my last chance. And my final ultimatum to Daniel.

I dialed Daniel’s number. Daniel, hiding behind the pillar, clearly hadn’t expected me to call him then. The phone rang only once before it was answered. But before I could speak, a hand suddenly reached out and snatched my phone. It was Scarlett. “Trying to call for help?” She looked at Daniel’s name displayed on the screen and sneered. “Perfect, he’s right here.” “I’d love to hear what kind of sweet nothings you two cheating trash have to whisper to each other!” She didn’t hang up; instead, she directly pressed the speaker button. “Daniel!” Scarlett roared into the phone, “Speak!” Through the speaker came Daniel’s barely suppressed voice, filled with terror. “Scarlett! Don’t play it anymore!” “Please! Turn it off! You really can’t play it!” “Someone’s going to get seriously hurt if you don’t stop!” The entire hall erupted in chaos. That was practically an admission of guilt! If the people in the video weren’t him and Cassidy, why would he be begging like that? “You’re protecting her?” “Even now, with the evidence right in front of us, you’re still protecting this slut?!” Scarlett roared into the phone, tears streaming down her face. “Daniel! I’ve been so good to you, and you’re begging me for her sake?!” “You’re afraid she’ll be shamed? Afraid she’ll be socially ruined?” “But did you ever think about my feelings?!” Daniel on the other end of the phone was still babbling incoherently, “No! I’m not protecting her! It’s for us…” “Shut up!” Scarlett didn’t want to hear any explanations. She raised the phone and smashed it hard onto the red carpet in front of her. The phone screen shattered. Scarlett breathed heavily, her eyes scanning the entire hall fiercely. “The more Daniel doesn’t want me to play it, the more I will!” “I’m going to make Daniel realize what happens when you betray me!” I looked at the shattered phone on the ground, my eyes cold. Scarlett had completely lost it. She frantically clicked the mouse. Each click was accompanied by her hysterical running commentary. “This one! The background looks like a movie theater restroom!” “Cassidy, aren’t you grossed out? You’d actually go that low?” The screen flashed, full of pixelation in the dim light. “And this one! An outdoor tent!” “You two went camping? Was it last year when I was away on that business trip?” “Oh, great, the moment my back was turned, you two were out in the wilderness getting it on?” The guests in the audience, initially shocked and embarrassed, slowly became numb to the spectacle. Some even held a secret excitement. Countless phones were raised. Some were recording, some were live-streaming. Flashlights flickered on and off, making it hard to keep one’s eyes open. That’s human nature. Since the bride herself didn’t care about the humiliation, everyone treated it as a free, vulgar show. Although the images on the screen were all blurry, obscuring faces. The sounds, however, were crystal clear. It was an unrestrained, primal outpouring of desire. Accompanied by Scarlett’s crude commentary. “Listen to that sound, how wild she gets.” “Cassidy, what happened to that detached, sophisticated act you pull at the office?” “How do you become such a complete slut in bed?” If it had truly been me today, my life would be over. But unfortunately, it wasn’t me.

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On our wedding night, my wife, Sarah, wouldn’t let me touch her. She said she was too tired and asked me to wait a while. But every night, in the dead of night, she’d sneak downstairs to the basement. When she returned, she’d always shower, and an eerie, unsettling smell would cling to her. I asked her what she was doing. She said she was doing yoga. Yoga in the middle of the night? I couldn’t take it anymore. One night, I secretly followed her down to the basement. She spotted me, spun around, and grabbed the collar of my pajamas, yelling: “Get up here!” “You can’t go into the basement!” “Otherwise, we’re getting a divorce!” I clutched the stair railing, trembling with anger. My parents bought this house for us as a wedding gift. This is my home! Why can’t I go into my own basement? As my wife, who does she think she is talking to me like that? I took a deep breath, trying to keep my cool. “Sarah, is that how you talk to me?” Sarah still had a tight grip on my pajama collar, her slender fingers surprisingly strong. “Mark, let’s go upstairs first. I’ll explain everything in the bedroom.” “You can’t explain it here?” I pointed to the pitch-black basement below. “Why can’t I go down there? Don’t I have a right to know?” “I’m doing yoga, and that’s my private space down there. It’s not time to share it yet.” She stepped down a few stairs, blocking my path with her body. “Why?” “Because it’s just not the right time. When it’s ready for you to see, I promise I’ll show you!” My gut twisted with frustration. I took another deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. “If that’s the case, did you really have to snap at me like that?” “I…” She bit her lip. “I was just a little worked up, you know? Besides, you know I’m direct; you’re used to that.” I scoffed and turned to go upstairs. Fine, I’d wait until she left for work tomorrow, then I’d check out what was really going on down there. Back in bed, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. There had to be something fishy going on in that basement, something serious. Was it a secret Sarah didn’t want anyone to know? I looked at her. She was also awake, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. I remembered how shocked I’d been when she first asked me out. She was so beautiful, with so many guys after her, while I was just an average-looking guy. What did she even see in me? She’d said she liked my kindness, my quiet demeanor, and the sense of calm I brought her. I believed her. But if that was true, why did she push me away every night? I’m her husband, after all. Was this normal? Finally, I couldn’t hold back. I reached out, wanting to gently caress her cheek. “What are you doing?!” She pulled away like she’d been burned, glaring at me with disgust. The kind of look you give something revolting. I suddenly got it, and angrily turned away. But I couldn’t let that insult slide. If she didn’t have feelings for me, why did she ask me out? Why marry me?! Thinking that, I spun around, glaring at her. “You said you needed time, that we couldn’t be too intimate yet, and I get that. But why such a strong reaction when I just touched you?” “How many times have I explained this? It’s a psychological thing. I’m looking for a therapist, aren’t I? You need to be patient.” Sarah picked up her phone and gently tapped my shoulder with the back of it—she wouldn’t even touch me with her hand. “Mark, please, just give me six months, okay? After six months, I promise I’ll be better.” She tapped me with her phone, not even her hand. Was I really that repulsive to her? Could I even believe her? But right then, I had no choice but to wait. I sighed and rolled over. Truth is, I’d given her everything. From the start of our relationship, I’d done whatever she wanted. She said she liked jewelry, so I bought her expensive necklaces. She wanted to travel, so I took her everywhere. She mentioned investing, so I supported her learning about finance. I gave her everything I had, did my best to get her whatever she wanted. But this is what I got after the wedding. It all had to connect to that basement! I had to find out what was going on!

Morning came. As usual, I made breakfast—Sarah’s favorite. She stayed distant, eating silently without a word to me. Felt like I was her maid, not her husband. After breakfast, I drove her to work. We both worked in sales at the same perfume company, Serenity Scents. After parking, she walked into the building. Once she was out of sight, I quickly told a coworker I’d be out and left the office. I didn’t take my car—instead, I hailed a cab home. I unlocked the front door, rushed into the living room, and headed straight for the basement. When I got there, I froze. The basement door was different! At some point, it had been replaced with a reinforced door with a combination lock! Without the code, there was no way in! I pulled out my phone, took a picture of the door, and started looking up how to open this kind of lock. “What are you doing?!” Sarah suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, yelling. She hadn’t trusted me and had followed me home! She practically ran down the stairs and slapped me hard across the face. “What did I tell you?!” “You hit me?!” I held my stinging cheek. She continued to yell, “What did I tell you?!” I yelled back, “This is my house! Don’t I have the right to go in? And you couldn’t even tell me you were changing the door?!” “I was just about to tell you!” She raised her hand, ready to strike again. I dodged the slap and pulled out my phone. “I’m calling the cops!” My cheek burned, and I was shaking with anger. We’d barely been married, and she was already hitting me? What was going to happen next?! Sarah panicked immediately, grabbing my hand. “Why are you calling the police?” “This is my house, why won’t you let me in? Why did you hit me just now? Why can’t I call the police?!” I insisted on dialing 911. “Mark, don’t get so upset.” Her voice softened. “I… I was just acting on impulse.” “You get impulsive, so you hit me?” I pulled my hand away. “Let go! I’m calling the police!” She grabbed my hand again. “Mark, is calling the police really necessary? If you think this isn’t working, we can get a divorce.” Divorce?! Hearing that, I stepped back and fell silent. Things were bad, but I didn’t think we were at divorce level yet. Besides, if we split, this house—marital property—would probably get divided, and my parents’ investment would go to waste! There was no way I was letting that happen! “If we get divorced, I’ll get half this house,” Sarah added. “If you don’t want a divorce, we keep things the way they were. Now go back to work.” After thinking it over, I shot her a dirty look and headed upstairs. I had no choice—I couldn’t let my parents’ savings go to waste! “Come back!” I stopped and turned around. “You disrespected me. Don’t you think you owe me an apology? And a promise?” Sarah demanded. I was so mad I punched the stair railing. Blood started gushing from my hand. I gave her one last angry look and left quickly. “Mark, what’s up? You look terrible.” When I got back to the office, my coworker David asked. I mumbled I was fine, sat down, and opened my laptop. My right hand was bandaged, so I had to use my left. I kept my right hand under the desk so David wouldn’t see it. “Hey!” David came over, sat next to me, clapped my shoulder, and winked. “Don’t overdo it on the honeymoon, man. You look exhausted.” I forced a laugh. If only that were the problem. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, and we’ve got that team-building thing. It’s family-friendly, so they want everyone to bring their spouse or partner,” David reminded me. “Missing the main activities could mess with our team’s evaluation and bonus.” I didn’t care about team-building, but I didn’t want to lose my bonus. Sarah, though, loved this stuff—she never missed company events. “If Sarah goes, I’ll go,” I said. “I just asked her, and she’s not going. If that’s the case, you two will lose this month’s bonus!” “I’ll go talk to her.” I stood up and walked to the next cubicle area where she worked. I went in and saw her chatting with two female coworkers. Two months ago, there was a hit-and-run right outside our building—some driver hit a few coworkers and took off. They still hadn’t caught him. The girls were talking about it casually. I walked right up to Sarah and quietly asked, “Are you going to the company team-building event?” “No,” she answered coldly. I whispered again, “If you don’t go, we’ll lose our bonus.” “So what if we do?” “I just don’t think we need to throw away money over this—” “Are you serious?!” Sarah suddenly yelled. “I’m staying home, end of story!” Her voice echoed through the office, and everything went quiet. All the coworkers stared at me, shocked. My face burned—I wanted to crawl under a rock. She’d just yelled at me like that in front of everyone at work! What else could I say? I hung my head and walked away. In that moment, all my fantasies about Sarah died. “Mark, hey, sorry I pushed you about that earlier.” When I got back to my desk, David put his arm around my shoulder and apologized quietly. “It’s fine.” I suddenly remembered something, picked up my phone, and sent him a picture. “David, you know a lot of people. Can you help me figure out how to open this kind of reinforced combination lock door?” David checked his phone, looked at it for a second, and nodded. “Sure, I know a guy who does this stuff. I’ll ask him for you.”

Evening came again. While making dinner, I checked the security camera app on my phone. Just like this morning, the camera was still broken. Had Sarah done this on purpose? I finished cooking and brought the food to the dining room. Sarah got home carrying a cake, but she was acting weird—hiding it from me, tucking it away in the pantry. I caught a glimpse anyway: a fancy French mousse cake. I paused. It wasn’t her birthday or mine. What was she up to? She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. During dinner, we barely spoke. She acted like a restaurant customer, me like the server. By bedtime, my right hand needed a new bandage. I carefully unwrapped it, put on antiseptic cream, and re-bandaged it myself. Sarah lay next to me, completely ignoring me. “By the way, Mark, what have you decided?” Sarah suddenly asked. I was startled. “Decided about what?” “About the divorce, I mean. Have you thought about it?” she asked again. I scoffed. What was she really after? Did she marry me just for this? I shot back, “What do you think? Do you want a divorce?” Sarah stayed quiet. “If you’re not happy with our marriage, just say so,” I said flatly. “I won’t stop you.” Sarah’s expression darkened. She suddenly turned away from me. “Go to sleep, just go to sleep!” “You said to give you time, that once your psychological issues got better, things would be fine. Remember?” I said pointedly. “We’ll see,” she said sharply. “I’m tired, just go to sleep!” I finished getting ready for bed, turned off the light, and lay down. We shared a bed but lived separate lives—this was pure torture. But for now, I had to tough it out. I must have dozed off without realizing it. Maybe it was muscle memory or just my subconscious at work, but I woke up in the middle of the night. Moonlight filtered into the bedroom—not bright, but enough to see by. I turned my head, and Sarah was gone! She must have snuck down to the basement for her “yoga” again. As I rolled over to get up, I heard a clink and my left wrist suddenly felt heavy! I tugged, and saw a silver handcuff locked around it—the other end chained tightly to the bedpost! Clank! I pulled with all my strength; my wrist burned, but it wouldn’t budge! “Are you kidding me?!” I was livid! Sarah had handcuffed me just to go to the basement! She wasn’t even treating me like a person! Just then, I heard footsteps outside! Sarah was back! In a split second, I flopped back down, pretending to be sound asleep. A minute later, Sarah tiptoed over and sat carefully on the edge of the bed. She gently lifted my left hand, unlocked the cuff, unhooked the chain from the bed, and stashed it away—hardly making a sound. When she was done, she lay back down. Like she was checking if I was awake, she tapped my shoulder lightly with her phone. I didn’t move, keeping up the “asleep” act. She exhaled, apparently relieved, and finally settled in. I caught a whiff of her shower gel, plus a faint cake smell. And mixed in with those was that weird, unidentifiable odor. Had Sarah taken the cake to the basement? Was she eating cake during her “yoga”? Or was there something else hidden down there? I couldn’t make sense of it. Soon, she was breathing softly. I couldn’t sleep though—just lay there staring at the ceiling. Morning came. When I looked in the mirror, I had huge dark circles. I wasn’t exactly a model, but I usually kept myself presentable. Seeing how run-down I looked made me feel even worse. I had to end this—if things kept going like this, the stress would break me. After breakfast, I checked the living room trash can specifically. There was a cake box in there! It was definitely the one Sarah brought home last night! So who ate the cake? Was someone hiding in the basement?! My heart raced. Was Sarah hiding someone down there? Her lover?

“Mark, I heard back from my friend!” David grabbed my arm as soon as I got to the office, talking loudly. With other coworkers around, I quickly shushed him. He laughed, covering his mouth, then leaned in close. “My friend says she can get that door open!” Perfect! I was thrilled. Once the nearby coworkers left, I pulled David over and whispered, “David, I need a favor.” He raised an eyebrow. “C’mon, we’re friends—just say the word!” I checked the office door to make sure no one was coming, then put my arm around his shoulder and murmured in his ear. He nodded as I spoke. “Leave it to me!” We talked it over for ten minutes, then he took off. I stayed at the office, waiting. While I waited, I noticed Sarah sneaking glances my way a few times. She was obviously keeping an eye on me, making sure I wasn’t planning to sneak home again like before. At eleven, David texted: Sorry, couldn’t get the door open. Felt like someone was inside—right when we almost had it, they locked it again. My stomach dropped. We’d underestimated Sarah! Now what? Should I call the cops? If I didn’t, whatever was in that basement would stay a secret forever. But if I did… what if there was nothing? Our relationship would be totally ruined! What was I supposed to do? Quitting time came again. I drove Sarah back to the house. As soon as I pulled into the driveway, she lunged at me—scratching my face, yanking my hair. No warning, just attacking me out of nowhere! “What the hell are you doing?!” I yelled, covering my face. She didn’t say a word—just kept hitting me harder and harder. My face and head burned; I was scared she might actually hurt me badly if this kept up. I fumbled with the seatbelt, unbuckled it, and tried to open the door to get out. She latched onto my arm with one hand to stop me, while the other kept attacking—scratching, punching, hitting my face and body! The pain was too much, so I started yelling for help. She clamped her hand over my mouth to muffle me. Then I remembered the small scissors in the glove compartment. I fumbled it open, grabbed them, and held them up toward her! “Ah!” She yelped and finally backed off. I gasped for air, glaring at her. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she was clutching her left wrist—it was bleeding badly, cut by the scissors! My face throbbed and my head was spinning. “Why the hell did you attack me?” I shouted. “You had it coming!” she snapped. “Had what coming?” “You know exactly why!” Then it hit me—she must have found out I tried to get someone to open the basement door! “You sneaky bastard!” She pointed at me, venom in her voice. “I warned you to stay away from the basement, to leave it alone!” “This is my house! My parents bought it!” I shot back. “And I told you to give me six months! That after six months, things would get better! Don’t you remember?” “I don’t believe a word you say! With that attitude, in six more months you’ll probably kill me!” I’d hit my breaking point. When you can’t take it anymore, you just can’t.

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Adrian has a saliva allergy. Even the slightest contact with someone’s lips would cause his whole body to break out in hives. At our wedding, when the officiant asked us to kiss, just one light touch sent him into shock and straight to the hospital. During sex at night, he makes me wear a mask, terrified of coming into contact with my saliva. Rumors spread like wildfire. People said I had bad breath, that I carried bacteria, that I was the reason a perfectly good man had to be so cautious. To protect his pride, I silently endured all the speculation. Later, at a New Year’s party, he lost a game and took his punishment—holding alcohol in his mouth and passing it directly into his girl best friend’s mouth. After the drink was passed, they kept kissing. Adrian’s eyes were full of desire. Watching the lipstick mark on his lips and the strand of saliva between them, my heart sank. That’s when I realized his saliva allergy was only for me. If I hadn’t happened to be at that bar that night, I never would have seen it. Adrian, who claimed to be working overtime at the office, was now holding alcohol in his mouth and passing it without hesitation into Jessica’s mouth. After the drink was transferred, everyone around them started chanting, “Kiss! Kiss!” And Adrian actually did it, egged on by the crowd. He closed his eyes and they changed positions several times. When things got heated, he even used his tongue. I froze. At our wedding, a crowd had also chanted for Adrian to kiss me, but he’d flatly refused, citing his saliva allergy. Fighting back tears, I walked toward them. I hadn’t gone far when I bumped into the bar counter and fell. Glasses shattered everywhere with a loud crash. Everyone’s eyes shot in my direction. The two people who’d been making out stopped. Jessica walked over like a victor, reaching out as if to help me up. “Clara? What happened? Did you fall?” I slapped her hand away. “Get away from me!” But Jessica put on a pitiful expression. “Clara, please don’t be angry. We were just playing a game. You know Adrian and I have been like this since we were kids…” I swung my hand to slap her, but Adrian showed no regard for my situation and pulled Jessica behind him. “This is just a casual gathering with friends and there are so many people here. Have you made enough of a scene? Go home!” I laughed bitterly and walked step by step to sit among that group of friends. “A gathering with friends? As your wife, don’t I deserve a seat at the table?” Instantly everyone fell silent. The two people sitting closest to me instinctively pulled away. “She has bad breath and H. pylori, and she still has the nerve to play games with us! Aren’t you afraid of infecting us?” One of Jessica’s girlfriends spoke up indignantly. The others exchanged glances. I looked at Adrian. He sat next to Jessica, laughing along. Because Adrian had refused to be intimate with me all these years, rumors about me having bacteria and bad breath had run rampant. For the sake of his reputation, I’d never explained or defended myself. Yet now his friends could mock me with these private matters as if they were jokes. And he wouldn’t stand up to defend me. I pulled out my medical records. “Look closely. I don’t have any bacteria or bad breath. So I’m playing this game too!” Adrian jumped in to stop me. “Don’t be ridiculous! You’re pregnant!” “And you have a saliva allergy! But that didn’t stop you from kissing whoever you wanted!” Instantly, many curious eyes turned our way. Adrian’s ears turned bright red. He grabbed my arm, trying to shut me up. I stayed silent, and he stopped trying to prevent me from joining. The dice shook violently in my hand. I casually lifted the cup. “Three sixes!” The highest possible roll. Everyone was stunned, including Adrian. He rarely brought me to gatherings with friends. He had no idea I was good at this. “I won!” Jessica, who’d been sitting on Adrian’s lap moments ago, now looked like a startled chicken. “Jessica, I noticed you really enjoy mouth-to-mouth action. How about doing it with Marcus too!” The game rules were simple: the winner could make anyone present do a dare. She couldn’t refuse, but clearly didn’t want to. Adrian had told me that Marcus used to be Jessica’s devoted admirer. It would be nice to let him have his wish. But Adrian spoke up for her. “Clara, Jessica’s shy. Let’s skip this round!” I heard my own voice crack. “A deal’s a deal! Why is it okay for Jessica to kiss you but not someone else?” Jessica’s fists clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms. “Clara, it’s just a game. Don’t make things difficult for Jessica!” To plead for her, Adrian pushed me into the villain’s role. My lower abdomen started cramping again, but I couldn’t back down now. “She just had bad luck. How is that my fault?” Jessica couldn’t take it anymore. She ran out in fury. Adrian stood up too, leaving only one vicious sentence: “Happy now?” Then he chased after her. The whole gathering fell apart because of me. But strangely, I felt no victor’s joy—only growing emptiness. I staggered to my feet. The pain in my abdomen grew more intense. When I stumbled to the bathroom in panic, I discovered I was bleeding.

I don’t know how I got to the hospital. When I woke up, the doctor was already waiting impatiently by my ear. “Mrs. Lee, you’re hemorrhaging badly. We need to know whether to save you or the baby. Your husband needs to come sign the papers immediately!” I didn’t want to contact Adrian anymore. “Doctor… can I… sign myself?” The doctor shook her head. She said my own condition was critical—how could I make this decision? I could only force myself to call Adrian despite my nausea. At first the phone rang, but then it went straight to voicemail. “Bed 18! What are you doing? Where is he? Is he coming or not?” I helplessly dialed again and again. Ironically, while Adrian wouldn’t answer my calls, he posted on social media. It read: “Best friends till death!” The picture showed his and Jessica’s backs as they drank together. My head throbbed. My heart was dying. Soon after, Jessica sent me a video. In the video, on the bed I cleaned every day, torn clothes were scattered everywhere. Adrian and Jessica were tangled together. At the end, Jessica didn’t forget to text: “Clara, is something wrong? Adrian’s exhausted and fell asleep!” I hung up. A tear slid onto the white pillow. “Bed 18, your condition can’t wait any longer. You’re hemorrhaging badly. When is your husband coming?” The nurse was anxious again. I shook my head. “No one’s coming. My husband… he just died.” At my words, the nurse’s impatient expression turned to shock and sympathy. In the end, I signed the consent form for the abortion procedure alone and was wheeled into the operating room. I don’t know how long the surgery took. When I opened my eyes, my phone wouldn’t stop ringing. I looked—of course it was Adrian. I didn’t call back. I blocked his contact instead. During the four or five days I was hospitalized, no one came to my bedside. A nurse finally couldn’t stand it and hired a caregiver for me. While taking care of me, she asked, “Where’s your family?” My eyes went blank, staring into the distance. “In Harbor City. It’s far, and they’re old. I didn’t want them to make the difficult trip.” The caregiver patted my hand without saying anything. I suddenly missed home. My hand reached for my phone and unconsciously dialed Dad’s number. When I realized what I’d done, I quickly hung up. He must be frantically dealing with problems in Harbor City. I couldn’t let him see me like this. Soon, my father called back. I suppressed my longing and let it ring out. After being discharged, I rushed home to pack my things and leave. But I had the bad luck of running into Jessica.

When I opened the door and saw her, she was casually sitting in my usual spot on the sofa, sunflower seed shells scattered all over the floor. She wasn’t surprised to see me. She even invited me to sit down, as if she were the lady of the house. I kicked aside her shoes that were carelessly left by the door and walked straight to the bedroom without acknowledging her. She followed me in. “Clara, haven’t seen Adrian these past few days? Are you upset?” I treated her like air and opened the closet, only to discover that my belongings were just a few scattered items. “Don’t worry, Adrian’s doing great with me! He doesn’t really want to come back here either.” I still ignored her, silently filling my suitcase. Seeing my silence, she became irritated instead. She pointed at my nose and declared her territory: “Clara, I’m pregnant with Adrian’s baby. Step aside!” I really couldn’t understand this woman. One moment she said she and Adrian were just friends, the next she was telling me to step aside. But when she mentioned the baby, I thought of the little life that had belonged to me just days ago. My nose stung. I fought back the moisture in my eyes and forced a smile. “Really? Then congratulations!” “Clara, you’re really pathetic. I’m pregnant with his child and you still won’t leave? You can tolerate even this?” Slap! I struck her across the face, finally making up for what I’d missed at the bar that night. “Actually, I can’t tolerate it.” I said expressionlessly, “Even if I leave, it doesn’t mean you’ll ever get to climb above me.” Just then, I heard a key turning in the door. Perfect timing—Adrian had arrived. As soon as he saw the handprint on Jessica’s cheek, he started lecturing me without a second thought. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t answer calls, you don’t come home, and Jessica was worried about you and waited here for days. Now you’re bullying her again without even asking what happened!” “I’m bullying her?” I was too angry to have strength. I was too tired to explain. “Fine. Since you’re so protective of her, go be with her then!” At this point, Jessica started playing innocent again. “Adrian, is it because I’m here that Clara’s uncomfortable? She can’t stand me. I’ll just leave!” He grabbed Jessica’s hand. “Look at you, acting so childish when you’re about to be a mom. I’ve told you many times—Jessica and I are just friends. If there was something between us, would you even be in the picture?” He always said that. But whenever Jessica had a problem, he could drop everything and rush to her. On our engagement day, Jessica had just returned from abroad. One phone call and Adrian left all our relatives to pick her up at the airport. On our wedding day, Jessica couldn’t stand seeing us intimate. She threw a tantrum and disappeared. He stopped the entire wedding ceremony and searched every corner of the venue just to find her. This time was no different.

“Adrian, since you think I’m so childish, let’s get divorced!” “What did you say?” His tone was incredulous with a hint of mockery. “Sign the papers. Divorce. Isn’t Jessica pregnant with your child? She can legitimately become a mother!” I pulled out the divorce agreement I’d written in the hospital. “Clara, stop making a scene. How could Jessica be pregnant with my child!” Seeing my unwavering stance, he actually laughed. “Clara, you really want a divorce? Have you forgotten what your father told you?” He actually had the nerve to bring up my father! If Dad hadn’t been targeted by loan sharks back then, there’s no way Adrian would have gotten that funding from my father. There’s no way Adrian could have made a comeback and achieved his business success today. Back then, with his status, he never could have married me. It was Dad who asked Adrian to take me away from Harbor City, saying not to come back unless there was an emergency. So for these five years, no matter what trouble I encountered, I never went back. I obediently stayed by Adrian’s side, playing the role of his good wife. He knew this, which is why he was so unrestrained with me. Seeing no reaction from me, Adrian perked up. “Besides, even if you don’t think about yourself, you have to think about the baby in your belly. Following you around from place to place—would that be a good life?” Finally, he tore up my divorce agreement piece by piece. “So forget about divorce. Just be Mrs. Adrian and live carefree. Isn’t that nice?” “Fine!” I looked at Jessica without emotion. Her face looked terrible. She threw another tantrum for Adrian to comfort. I silently picked up those paper scraps and threw them in the trash. I knew Adrian too well. He would never sign this divorce agreement. So I stopped trying to get Adrian to agree to divorce. He thought I’d given up and let his guard down. While he was away on business, I hesitated for a long time before finally calling Dad. “Dad, your daughter’s in trouble. She really wants to come home.” In that instant, emotions I’d suppressed for so long finally poured out. I didn’t tell him what happened. He just said with infinite regret that he’d pick me up at the airport. I took one last look at this city I’d lived in for five years and entered the boarding gate.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “343935”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic