Category: English

The plane was ten minutes from takeoff when I was blocked by several flight attendants. The reason: my deaf-mute daughter had handed out a stack of cards with pleas for help. “We’ve received a report that you’re suspected of child abduction. Please show your ID.” The flight attendant’s voice was undeniably serious. Before I could explain, my daughter suddenly unbuckled her seatbelt and rushed out. She knelt before the flight attendant, bowing repeatedly, desperately signing “sister save me.” The entire cabin immediately erupted. Passengers rose to take photos. “Willow, stop it! We still need to go abroad to see the doctor!” I was sweating profusely, frantically pulling out my ID and household register to prove my identity. But my daughter cried even harder, the bruises on her arms strikingly obvious as she struggled. The moment I was escorted off the plane, I watched, helpless, as she threw herself into another woman’s arms, laughing with innocent joy. The immense shock caused me to miss a step on the boarding ramp and fall, my consciousness plunging into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, the familiar scene replayed—flight attendants surrounded me, and my daughter was about to rush out. This time, I didn’t panic. In front of everyone, I dialed the police: “Police? Someone here is abducting my child.” … “I want to report a crime.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough to be heard throughout the cabin. The flight attendant froze, her hand holding the cards suspended in mid-air, her professional smile fracturing little by little. Willow’s hand paused on the seatbelt buckle, not pressing it. She turned to look at me, her eyes filled with confusion. I pulled out my phone, dialed 911 in front of everyone, and put it on speaker. “Hello, Capital 911, how may I help you?” I looked into the eyes of the flight attendant before me, saying each word clearly: “I want to report a crime. Flight CA989, Capital Airport T3 Terminal. Someone is abducting a child.” There was a second of silence on the other end of the line. The flight attendant’s face went white, and Willow’s eyes widened. Someone in the back row gasped. Seeing everyone’s reactions, I smiled. In my previous life, when I was suddenly surrounded by flight attendants, my mind went blank. All I could say was “no,” “I didn’t,” “she’s my daughter.” But no one listened. Only ten minutes remained until takeoff. The lead flight attendant held a pile of cards, her face grave, as she questioned me: “Ma’am, we’ve received a report that you’re a child trafficker. Please show your ID.” The cards were covered in children’s drawings, each with “HELP ME” and “child trafficker” scrawled on them. Before I could react, Willow had already darted out. She knelt before the flight attendant, bowing her head, her forehead hitting the aisle floor with loud thuds. Her face was drenched in tears, and she signed rapidly: “Sister, save me, she’s not my mother.” She signed quickly, forcefully, as if using all her strength to beg for help. Someone in the cabin understood sign language, and the place instantly erupted. “Oh my god, she’s saying she’s been abducted by a trafficker!” “Call a flight marshal!” “Record it! Don’t let her get away!” I stood up, flustered: “Willow! Stop fooling around!” “I’ve scheduled you for surgery abroad, time is of the essence!” I pulled out my ID, household register, birth certificate, surgery appointment… Taking them out one by one, my hands trembling, my voice shaking. The flight attendant skeptically took the documents. But Willow cried heartbrokenly. She rolled up her sleeves, her thin arms covered in bruises, purple and blue. Frantically signing: “Save me, save me.” Everyone, upon seeing the injuries on my daughter, instantly made me their prime suspect. I was helpless and desperate. “The surgery took eight months to schedule, if it’s delayed now, it’s truly lost!” “Willow! Tell them! I really am your mother!” But my daughter just cried endlessly; the moment I touched her, she shrieked and bit me. Her frantic behavior raised suspicions, and I was forcibly ordered off the plane, only to see my daughter run into another woman’s arms. In a daze, I missed a step on the boarding ramp and fell to my death. The call paused for a second, then immediately asked: “Madam, are you sure—” “I’m quite clear.” I cut her off, my voice as calm as if I were remarking on the good weather: “There’s a child trafficker on this plane. I saw it with my own eyes.” “The plane is taking off in ten minutes. I suspect the trafficker has other motives. For safety, please dispatch officers immediately.” After hanging up, I looked at the stack of cards in the flight attendant’s hand and smiled. “Isn’t there a child trafficker? I called the police for you. Go ahead and catch them.” When the call ended, the cabin was so quiet you could hear the hum of the air conditioning. The flight attendant still held the stack of cards, her face as if someone had pressed the pause button. Willow’s hand paused on the seatbelt buckle, not pressing it. She turned to look at me, her eyes filled with confusion. Someone in the back row gasped. Willow finally moved; she still rushed to the flight attendant and knelt. Her face tear-streaked as she signed: “Sister, save me. She’s lying; she’s really not my mother.” She signed quickly, forcefully. Someone stood up to block the aisle, someone else held a phone up, filming my face. I sat in my seat, unmoving. Watching Willow hug the flight attendant’s legs, watching her cry until her face was crimson. In my previous life, I hadn’t noticed anything was wrong with Willow. Willow has been deaf and mute since childhood. This trip was for a cochlear implant. I waited eight months in line, begged countless people, and spent all my savings. Miss this chance, and I’d have to wait another year. Willow is five and a half now; doctors said the window period is before she turns six. If we waited another year, she would miss the optimal timing and might never hear again. She started acting up after boarding the plane. First she wanted orange juice, then apple sauce, then a blanket. The flight attendants ran back and forth more than a dozen times. I thought she was nervous before surgery and didn’t pay much attention. Now I knew she wasn’t acting up; she was handing out those cards one by one. Over a dozen cards, each with “HELP ME” and “child trafficker” drawn on them. How did a five-year-old deaf-mute child, without help, manage that? The flight attendant helped Willow up and hugged her, then turned to me, her expression changed: “Madam, please show your ID again. We need to check it.” I didn’t speak again. I took out my ID and household register from my bag, handing them over one by one. My movements were slow, steady. The flight attendant took them, this time looking very carefully. She flipped through page by page, checking word by word. “Olivia Goodwin, female, 29 years old.” She read the information on the ID, then opened the household register. “Willow Goodwin, female, relationship to head of household—daughter.” She looked up at me, a trace of hesitation in her eyes. Just then, Willow began to sign again. She pointed to the bruises on her arm, crying heartbrokenly, her whole body trembling in the flight attendant’s embrace. “Save me! She’s really not my mom, she hits me every day!” The flight attendant looked down at Willow’s arm, her brows furrowed. Those bruises—black and blue—were shocking under the cabin lights. A woman nearby leaned over for a look, gasping, “Oh my goodness, how badly was she beaten?!” More people gathered. “This child is so pitiful.” “Just looking at her breaks my heart.” “Must be a stepmother, right? No birth mother would hit a child like that.” “Yes, yes, definitely a stepmother!” “Why aren’t the police here yet! Arrest this person immediately!” The voices grew louder, some even started pointing and cursing at me, wishing me dead. I sat in my seat, watching those people. In my previous life, I cried, explaining “I’m her biological mother,” but no one believed me. The flight attendant hesitated, then handed my documents back. “Madam, your documents are in order. However, the child’s accusations and injuries—” “I know.” I nodded. “You need to investigate.” “Yes, for the safety of passengers and the child, upon arrival at our destination, we will need to investigate you. Please cooperate.” “Now, our plane is about to take off…” As soon as she heard the plane was about to take off, Willow visibly panicked. She rolled up her sleeves, showing both her arms, frantically signing: “She’s not my mom! She’s a trafficker! Her suitcase has a bomb!” The person who understood sign language immediately shouted: “She says there’s a bomb on the plane!” The word “bomb” was like a fire thrown into an oil barrel. The flight attendant’s face instantly changed, her voice trembling, “Bomb?” Willow nodded frantically, tears streaming down her face, her fingers signing wildly: “Suitcase! The suitcase she’s carrying!” “There’s a bomb inside! She wants to blow up the plane!” The cabin completely erupted. “I want to get off the plane!” “Open the door! Open the door now!” “Fake, right? How could security let a bomb through?” “Can a child lie? She’s deaf and mute! She wouldn’t lie!” Some people started unbuckling their seatbelts, pushing towards the cabin door. Others pulled their suitcases from the overhead compartments, using them as shields. The flight attendant picked up her intercom, her voice trembling: “Captain, emergency situation, suspected explosive threat in the cabin. Request immediate evacuation!” There was a second of silence on the other end, then the captain’s voice: “Received. Initiate emergency protocol immediately. All passengers evacuate in an orderly manner.” “The plane is evacuating! Let’s go!” The flight attendant began organizing the evacuation. But panic still spread, turning the entire cabin into chaos. Willow was picked up by the flight attendant and moved towards the cabin door. She looked back at me. She smiled at me. That smile was not one a five-year-old child should have. I sat in my seat, unmoving. Two flight attendants rushed over, one on each side, grabbing my arms and pulling me from my seat. I didn’t struggle, letting them drag me towards the cabin door. “Let go of me.” My voice was very calm. “There’s a bomb threat on the plane, please cooperate!” “What if there’s no bomb in my suitcase?” No one paid attention to me. I was dragged out of the cabin door and pushed into the jet bridge. Behind me was a chaotic crowd; some were cursing, some were on their phones. I was pressed against the jet bridge wall by two flight attendants. Five minutes later, the police arrived. Three police cars, six officers. The jet bridge was cordoned off, and all passengers were taken to the waiting area for re-screening. I was led into an office by two police officers. The moment the door closed, the cold air from the AC hit me. The officer opposite me, a man in his forties with a square face, had a very stern expression. He sat down, opened his notebook, and looked at me. “Alright. What happened?” “My daughter said on the plane that I was a child trafficker, and that I had a bomb in my suitcase.” “Your daughter? Biological?” “Biological.” “Why would she say that?” I looked into his eyes: “Because someone taught her.” The officer frowned. “Who?” “I don’t know, that’s why I called the police.” He paused. “I called the police, saying there was a child trafficker on this plane.” I looked at his face. “The trafficker isn’t me, it’s the person who taught her.” “How do you prove that?” “First, the bruises on my daughter’s arms weren’t there when she bathed last night; the hotel surveillance can prove that.” “Second, those rescue cards, over a dozen of them, a five-year-old deaf-mute child couldn’t write them without being taught.” “Third—” I pulled out my phone, opened my chat history with Anna Chen, and handed it over. “This is an appointment I made eight months ago with a New York specialist, for today’s surgery.” “My daughter has congenital deafness. If she misses this, and we wait another year, the window period will pass.” “Would I, at this critical juncture, take her on a plane, then abuse her and let her accuse me?” The officer looked down at the phone, his brows furrowing deeper. “So you suspect—” “I suspect someone approached her before she boarded the plane, taught her to write cards, taught her to cry for help, taught her to say there was a bomb.” I looked into the officer’s eyes: “The goal was to cancel the flight and have me arrested as a criminal.” “I demand to review the surveillance footage from Terminal 3, this afternoon, to see who contacted my daughter.” Just then, the officer’s walkie-talkie buzzed. “Report, no explosives or suspicious items found in the luggage. Repeat, no explosives found.” The officer put down the walkie-talkie and looked up at me. “There was indeed no bomb in the suitcase.” “I know.” “Why did your daughter say there was?” “As I said, someone taught her.” The officer was silent for a few seconds, then closed his notebook. “We understand the situation. You can wait outside for now; please don’t leave the airport until the investigation is complete.” “What about the flight?” “It’s canceled. All passengers need to go through security again. Specific takeoff time will be announced later.” I closed my eyes. Eight months of waiting, gone. “Let’s go.” The officer stood up and opened the door. I walked out of the office, the lights in the waiting area stinging my eyes. Willow was surrounded by a group of people. A woman was holding her, while others offered water and wiped her tears. “So pitiful, such a small child.” “She has injuries on her body, look at her arms.” “Thankfully she was discovered, otherwise she really would have been taken abroad.” Someone saw me walk out, their face changed: “How did she get out? Not arrested?” “What are the police doing? Why aren’t they arresting someone like her?” The woman holding Willow took two steps back, as if afraid I’d snatch her. “Stay away from us! You monster!” Someone blocked my path, pointing a finger at me and cursing: “You dare to come out? Hitting a child like that, are you even human?” “Stepmother! Definitely a stepmother!” “Officers! Why aren’t you arresting her!” The voices grew louder, some even started pushing me. I stumbled a step, my back hitting the wall. Just then, the airport announcement boomed. “Attention all passengers, Flight CA989 has undergone security checks, and no explosives or suspicious items were found.” “This security incident was a false alarm. We apologize for any inconvenience caused. Please monitor future announcements for the flight’s updated departure time.” The waiting area was silent for a second. Then, the crowd immediately erupted. “What? False alarm?” “What the hell is going on? I’ve been waiting here for ages, and it turns out to be fake?” “Who called the police? Who said there was a bomb?” “How much trouble has this caused me! I have an urgent meeting to attend!” The waiting area was in complete chaos. “You’ll pay! You’ll pay me a hundred million!” A man in a suit rushed towards me, his face crimson. “My contract was delayed because of your messed-up situation! Can you afford to pay?!” “Exactly! You’ve wasted so much of our time!” “Call the police and arrest her! Her daughter said there was a bomb!” “Didn’t her daughter say it? What kind of child did she raise!” More and more people gathered around. Some held up phones, filming me; others pointed and cursed at me. The man in the suit reached out to push me. “I’m not the person you should be looking for.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough for those in the front row to hear. “If not you, then who! Your daughter said there was a bomb!” “Right! Your daughter said it!” “Then go find my daughter.” I looked at them. “She’s standing over there. Go ask her for a hundred million.” The man in the suit froze. “You… you’re trying to squirm your way out of this!” He grabbed my collar, pushing me against the wall, my head hitting the tile with a ringing thud. “Stop!” The police rushed out, pushing the man in the suit away.

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Right in the middle of a massive joint corporate press conference, I announced my divorce. The reason? A cheap, fluffy rabbit keychain dangling from my husband’s new assistant’s tote bag. Chaos erupted. Everyone in the venue was completely blindsided, desperately urging me to reconsider. “It is just a stupid keychain. If you hate it that much, just throw it away.” “Exactly. Just fire the assistant. There is absolutely no reason to throw your entire marriage away over this.” My husband, Simon, threw his billionaire CEO image entirely out the window. He dropped to his knees in front of flashing cameras, begging me not to abandon him. But looking at the pathetic display, I simply shook my head. “No. This marriage is over.” 1 “Mary, please. I am so sorry. Did I do something wrong? Please do not walk away from me.” The entire conference hall went dead silent the second Simon hit the floor. A heartbeat later, the press practically climbed over each other, camera shutters firing like machine guns. Nobody wanted to miss a scandal of this magnitude. Today was supposed to be the monumental merger announcement between the Belmont Group and Plana Industries. Simon and I were sitting at the main panel, fielding questions from top-tier financial journalists. Everything was going perfectly. Until I glanced to the side of the stage and saw Simon’s temporary assistant absentmindedly stroking the plush rabbit hanging from her bag. I leaned into my microphone, cutting Simon off mid-sentence, and declared that the Belmont-Plana partnership was terminated. I then announced our impending divorce. “Mary Belmont, have you lost your mind?!” My father shot out of his front-row seat, pointing a shaking finger at me. “Over a keychain?! You do not gamble a billion-dollar merger on a temper tantrum!” “Mary, sweetheart, listen to your father.” Simon’s mother rushed toward the stage, trying to do damage control. “If you do not like the girl, Simon will fire her right now. We do not throw away family ties over the hired help.” Simon and I were childhood sweethearts. From preschool to the corporate boardroom, I was the only woman he ever had eyes for. Everyone in the city knew Simon Plana worshiped the ground I walked on. After we got married, he took his loyalty to an extreme level just to make sure I never felt insecure. His drivers, his executive assistants, and his entire inner circle were strictly male. Even during corporate board meetings, female executives were required to sit at least ten feet away from him. It was a running joke in the financial district. They said that within a ten-foot radius of Simon Plana, not even a female mosquito was allowed to exist. Except for me. The only reason this girl was here today was because Simon’s actual assistant got into a fender bender on the highway. She was a last-minute substitute pulled from the event staff. Throughout the entire conference, Simon hadn’t spoken a single word to her. He barely even nodded in her direction. “Wow. I heard the Belmont heiress was insanely possessive, but this is actual clinical paranoia.” “Right? I have been watching the stage the whole time. Mr. Plana literally never even looked at the assistant. She is absolutely unhinged.” The whispers from the press pit grew louder, buzzing with malicious gossip. I ignored all of it, standing my ground. “Mary, stop this nonsense right now! Look at the absolute circus you have created!” My father, realizing I wasn’t backing down, stormed the stage. He raised his hand, fully intending to slap some sense into me in front of the entire city. I braced myself, ready to take the hit. But at the very last second, Simon lunged in front of me. The sharp crack of my father’s palm against Simon’s cheek echoed through the microphones. “Oh my god, Mr. Plana is literally taking a beating for her. He is so hopelessly in love.” “Where do you even find a guy like that? She is completely out of her mind to divorce him over a stuffed animal.” “Honestly, he is better off without her. She doesn’t deserve a man that devoted.” The crowd’s sympathy instantly shifted entirely to Simon. “Mary, whatever I did, I know it is my fault.” Simon ignored the trickle of blood in the corner of his mouth. The red handprint on his face was already swelling, but he just grabbed my hands, his eyes wide and desperate. “Just forgive me this one time. Please. We grew up together. We do everything together. You are literally a part of my soul. I cannot live without you.” I stared at his pleading face. I slowly pulled my hands out of his grip. “I am filing the papers tomorrow.” “Divorce? You open your mouth and demand a divorce over this piece of junk?!” My father, shaking with rage, marched over to the terrified assistant. He violently ripped the plush rabbit off her tote bag and threw it directly at my feet. I looked down at it. It was a remarkably cheap, ugly little toy. The stitching was crooked, exactly like something you would buy from a dollar-store bin. Simon was a man who obsessed over bespoke Italian suits and imported luxury goods. A tacky piece of synthetic fur like this was something he would normally order sanitized from his presence. To the naked eye, there was absolutely zero connection between this toy and my billionaire husband. But my resolve was made of iron. 2 “Mary, look at me.” My mother slipped onto the stage, wrapping a warm arm around my shoulders. She lowered her voice to a fierce whisper. “Tell me the truth. Did he hurt you? Because if he actually did something unforgivable, I will back your divorce a hundred percent.” My throat tightened. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. After all the screaming and public humiliation, my mother was the only person in the room who actually cared about my well-being. “Thank you, Mom,” I whispered back. “But it has nothing to do with that. Simon is perfectly fine. I am just… tired of him. I have had enough.” Hearing my blatant dismissal, my father practically vibrated with rage. He couldn’t even form words. My mother and Simon’s parents looked at me with profound disappointment. I didn’t care. I turned my back on all of them. “Simon, expect to hear from my lawyers by the end of the week.” I walked off the stage, leaving the flashing cameras and the shattered remains of our corporate empire behind. The moment I got home, I began drafting the legal framework for the separation. Unraveling the Belmont and Plana corporate assets was going to be a monumental nightmare. I was buried in spreadsheets when my phone buzzed frantically. It was my best friend, Zoe. “Mary, you need to get online right now. It is a complete bloodbath. Your announcement is the number one trending topic globally.” I clicked the link she texted me. It was a high-definition recording of the press conference. The comment section was a toxic wasteland of pure hatred directed at me. [This woman needs to be locked in a psych ward. Destroying a corporate merger over a cheap keychain? Insane.] [This is what happens when spoiled housewives sit at home with too much free time. They manufacture drama because their lives are too easy.] [Am I the only one who feels terrible for the assistant? She is just trying to do her minimum-wage job and suddenly she is the catalyst for a billionaire divorce. Talk about catching strays.] [Plot twist. The wife is definitely the one cheating. She just needed to manufacture a public excuse to play the victim before she gets caught.] [Actually, I work at a luxury hotel downtown. I have definitely seen her checking in with different men. Rich people are freaks.] There were a tiny handful of rational comments sprinkled in. [Guys, what if the CEO actually is sleeping with the assistant? The keychain might just be a coded excuse to keep the real scandal quiet for the sake of the company stocks.] But that tiny sliver of defense was obliterated ten minutes later. Someone leaked Simon’s highly classified personal schedule from the last three months. Simon was an infamous workaholic. His entire itinerary was broken down into ten-minute intervals. Every single second of his life was accounted for. He was either in high-level board meetings, attending public corporate galas, or at home with me. Furthermore, his business dinners were exclusively held in highly publicized Michelin-star restaurants. He never stepped foot in shady private clubs or VIP lounges. Hundreds of elite witnesses could vouch for his exact whereabouts. [Look at this schedule! The man barely has time to sleep, let alone maintain a secret mistress.] [He literally goes straight home to his wife every single night after working 16-hour days. He is the blueprint for a perfect husband.] To make matters infinitely worse, the assistant posted a tearful, shaky video from her apartment. In the video, she sobbed hysterically, explaining that she didn’t even work for Plana Industries. She was a low-level contractor hired by an external PR firm to manage the stage lights. She only stepped in to hand Simon a microphone because his real assistant crashed his car. She swore on her life she had never met Simon before today. The keychain was just a trinket she bought at a gas station. The internet went absolutely feral. [What a psychotic, rabid dog. She is just ruining innocent people’s lives for fun.] [She definitely got knocked up by another dude and is trying to burn her husband’s reputation to secure the bag.] [She is the heiress to the Belmont Group, right? I am boycotting all their products. I refuse to give my money to a clinically insane narcissist.] The digital mob was relentless. Within hours, Belmont Group’s stock took a catastrophic nosedive. 3 Because I publicly nuked the Plana merger, three of our biggest international development projects were instantly frozen by panicked investors. “Mary, I swear to God I didn’t mean for the schedule to get leaked.” I walked into the living room to find Simon sitting on my sofa. The second he saw me, his eyes welled with tears. He rushed over, grabbing my wrists in a desperate grip. “My PR team panicked and released it without my authorization. I already fired the guy who did it.” “I never wanted any of this public. Please, Mary. Just forgive me. Come back to me.” I looked at him with pure, unadulterated disgust. I ripped my hands out of his grip like he was coated in acid. “Mary Belmont, you have really done it this time.” My father stormed out of the kitchen, his face purple with fury. “You have single-handedly tanked the family legacy. The board is in a total panic.” “We are incredibly lucky Simon is a decent man. He is willing to forgive your psychotic episode and proceed with the merger.” My father grabbed my arm, forcibly dragging me toward his laptop on the coffee table. “Log into your account right now. You are going to post a public apology, beg for his forgiveness, and we are going to bury this disaster today.” He stood over me, radiating a terrifying ultimatum. If I didn’t type the apology, I was dead to him. Fine. I stared at the blank text box on my official social media page. I placed my fingers on the keys and typed a single sentence. [Seven days from now, I will host a live broadcast revealing the exact, undeniable truth behind my divorce. See you then.] I hit publish. “You… you absolute monster!” My father stared at the screen as the post went live. He clutched his chest, gasping for air as his face drained of color. “You are burning down everything your mother and I built! You are destroying us!” “Mary. I am so incredibly disappointed in you.” My mother walked into the room, staring at the viral post on her own phone. “I raised you better than this.” “Get out of my house! I am formally disowning you. The Belmont family has no daughter!” My father roared, winding up and backhanding me across the face with everything he had. The slap was devastating. It caught me right on the temple. My ears instantly erupted in a blinding, high-pitched ringing. The room spun wildly, fading into black as my knees buckled. When I finally opened my eyes, the harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room blinded me. Strangely, the suffocating anger that filled the room earlier had completely vanished. Everyone was smiling. “Mary, baby, how are you feeling? Does your head hurt?” Simon was sitting on the edge of the bed, gripping my hand so tightly it was cutting off my circulation. His eyes were shining with manic joy. “Mary, you are pregnant. We couldn’t believe it either. You are already six months along. How on earth did you not notice?” my mother asked, her voice trembling with happy tears. I froze completely. I forgot to even pull my hand away from Simon. My menstrual cycles had been an erratic, nonexistent mess for years due to severe PCOS. I never tracked them. I had gained a little weight recently, but with an anterior placenta hiding the bump, I just assumed it was stress bloat. Pregnancy was literally the last thing on my mind. Shortly after Simon and I got married, we spent a fortune at a fertility clinic. The specialists told us that due to severe blockages in my fallopian tubes, natural conception was a medical impossibility. Since we were both the sole heirs to our respective corporate empires, a lack of children was a massive crisis. I didn’t want to trap him in a dead-end lineage, so I offered him a clean divorce back then. When I handed him the papers, he had physically covered my mouth with his hand. He swore that he only wanted me. He promised we would live a beautiful life as a party of two, and leave our billions to charity when we died. Even his parents had held my hands and told me they loved me like their own blood. They promised that a child would never dictate my worth in their family. At the time, I wept in his arms. I truly believed I had found the perfect family. But now, right as I uncovered the sickening truth and wanted to burn his life to the ground, this impossible child decided to make its presence known. “Look, Mary. This is proof. The universe knows we belong together. Even God refuses to let us separate.” A single tear rolled down Simon’s cheek. “We are going to be parents, Mary. Everything is going to be perfect.” 4 “Exactly! I can’t believe I am actually going to be a grandfather.” My father, who had literally knocked me unconscious hours ago, was beaming with pride. “I need to go buy some baby name books. We will pick out a few options for both boys and girls.” The room was practically vibrating with wholesome, domestic joy. But looking at their smiling faces, my heart was a block of solid ice. “I am not keeping it. I am booking an abortion immediately.” My voice was flat and dead. “And regardless of what happens, I am divorcing him.” The joyous chatter instantly flatlined. The silence was deafening. My father dropped the glass of water he was holding. It shattered against the sterile floor. “You ungrateful wretch! Do you have any idea how broken your body is? Simon stayed with you when he knew you were barren. He sacrificed his own bloodline for you!” “Now, by some absolute miracle, you finally give him an heir, and you want to murder it?! If you want to act like a lunatic, you will do it after you deliver the child. Once the baby is born, I do not care if you drop dead in a ditch!” My father was practically hyperventilating, his face twisting in ugly fury. The door swung open. Simon’s parents rushed in, their faces tight with panic. “Mary, please listen to us. We just spoke to the chief obstetrician. The baby is perfectly healthy!” Mrs. Plana grabbed my arm, her manicured nails digging into my skin. “The child has been inside you for six months and hasn’t given you a single complication. It is a literal angel sent from heaven. How could you be so cruel?” I didn’t flinch. I just hit the call button and demanded the nurses prep me for an induction termination. But because I was already in my second trimester, the procedure required a complex induction process. Without finding a severe fetal abnormality, the hospital ethics board flat-out refused to authorize it. I demanded a transfer to a private clinic. But the slap to my head had left me with severe vertigo. More importantly, Simon and my father placed a small army of private security outside my room. I was functionally a prisoner. I wasn’t even allowed to walk to the cafeteria. Every single day, they rotated shifts, employing a brutal mix of emotional manipulation, guilt trips, and outright threats to break my resolve. “Mary, look at me. I took that stupid keychain and burned it to ashes in the backyard. It means absolutely nothing.” Simon knelt by my bed, presenting me with a velvet jewelry box. “I swear on my mother’s life I have never met that assistant before. You know my schedule. I do not have the physical time to cheat on you.” “If you don’t believe me, I will have my IT department clone my phone, my servers, and the entire corporate security grid. You can hire your own private hackers to scrub my data. I am innocent.” He gestured to the mountain of designer shopping bags piled in the corner of the hospital room. “These are all the limited-edition pieces you mentioned liking last year. I bought them all to celebrate you becoming a mother. Whatever you want, I will buy it.” He rested his chin on my blanket, looking up at me with those sad, puppy-dog eyes. “Oh, by the way. I authorized the Plana legal team to temporarily freeze the Belmont merger assets. I know your family’s stock is hemorrhaging right now. If you keep pushing this divorce, Belmont Group will be bankrupt by Friday.” He buried his face in my sheets, his voice muffled but sharp. “But do not worry. As long as you have my child, I will never let your family starve. I love you more than anything, Mary.” He looked up, a perfect, devoted smile plastered on his face. My stomach violently turned. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from vomiting. He was holding my entire family hostage under the guise of true love. “Do not flatter yourself. My company will survive without your charity. And this parasite is coming out of me the second I find a clinic.” I stared coldly into his eyes. “As for the real reason I am dumping you… make sure you tune into the livestream.” Simon didn’t visit me after that conversation. The Belmont Group’s international projects began mysteriously failing, bleeding millions by the hour. I knew exactly who was pulling the strings. He was trying to starve me into submission. On the seventh day, my phone rang right as I was setting up my ring light. It was Simon. “Mary, call off the broadcast. Tell the world we are working it out, and I will instantly inject capital back into your father’s firm. We can pretend this ugly week never happened.” I didn’t say a single word. I hung up, blocked his number, and hit the ‘Go Live’ button on my app. Because of the massive media circus, my viewer count instantly skyrocketed past one million the second my face appeared on screen.

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1 I had a secret rose birthmark. At nineteen, I gave myself to my uncle Jack while drunk. The night stayed with me, but the next day he told me the family business had failed and he had ALS. I left the military to care for him. I sold my house, borrowed money, and struggled for five years. Debt collectors hurt me, but I saved every coin to extend his life. One day at work, I saw Jack in a smart uniform, talking happily with friends. He was supposed to be in a wheelchair. A comrade said he had faked his illness for five years, and I had nearly destroyed myself to help him. Jack replied coldly that he did it to discipline me for not being kind to Monica. He planned a fake recovery to send me back to the military, believing I had learned my lesson. He thought I would believe anything he said. I stood there in silence, tears falling. There would be no later for us. His disease was a lie, but I was truly broken. ……. Outside, the cold wind bit at me. It was freezing. I stood rooted to the spot, a senseless puppet, enduring the slow agony of five years of shattered faith. Each cut tore at my flesh and blood. Jack’s comrade, Lincoln, sighed. “Honestly, you’re truly heartless. That’s the child you raised yourself, the youngest ace sniper in the military district. She retired just because you told her to, and at just twenty-something, she’s worn out like an old woman. A few days ago, she even asked me for a loan, needing eight hundred dollars for your imported medicine.” Jack’s face immediately darkened. “You lent it?” Lincoln shook his head helplessly. “You gave strict orders, how would I dare? The girl stood outside my dorm for an entire afternoon, fainted from low blood sugar, and I still didn’t dare help her up. When she finally woke, she walked away, leaning against the wall.” What Lincoln didn’t say was, that day, I held my service pistol to my temple. I said, “Uncle Lincoln, there’s one bullet left in the chamber. If you don’t lend me the money, I’ll pull the trigger.” Jack’s medicine had been interrupted for seven days; he coughed up bloody phlegm from his lungs. But Lincoln just bit his lip, his eyes red, and disarmed me, pushing me out the door as if I were a plague. Turns out, he didn’t want to lend it, he couldn’t. Jack snorted coldly. “Listen closely. Until Monica returns from her recuperation in the capital, no one is to help Seraphina. Whether she kneels or begs, even if she dies in front of you, don’t even spare her a glance.” “Monica is sensitive, her depression has just improved. The ‘punishment’ for Seraphina for these five years, not a single day less. If anyone makes Monica unhappy, don’t blame me for being ruthless.” The private room fell silent. Someone awkwardly reminded him, “Commander, aren’t you afraid Seraphina will find out the truth and be heartbroken?” No sooner had the words left his mouth, Jack sneered, “Heartbroken? I raised her, I gave her life, what’s a little hardship? Monica is different; she has no family, suffered so much. It’s only right that I treat her well.” His gaze swept the room. “What’s said here today, if even a word reaches Seraphina’s ears outside this room, don’t blame me for abandoning old ties.” I leaned against the cold wall, my hands and feet numb. Turns out, these five years I risked my life for were nothing but a meticulously arranged torture. My future, my honor, merely required a slight frown from Monica to become a casual “it’s only right” from Jack. I wanted to laugh, but a metallic, rusty taste surged in my throat. A phone rang in the private room, and footsteps approached the door. I had no time to hide. As I hastily turned, I bumped into the manager delivering drinks. The bottle of military-issue liquor on the tray shattered. The manager’s face changed drastically, and he slapped me across the face. The private room door opened, and Jack quickly stepped out, but without even glancing my way, he opened his arms directly and caught Monica as she rushed into them. “How did you come back by yourself? Didn’t we agree I’d pick you up?” Monica’s laugh was clear and sweet. “I missed you, Jack! Wanted to surprise you!” I wore a mask, kneeling on the cold marble floor, less than a meter away from them. Monica’s dazzling diamond watch strap stung my reddened eyes. One of those tiny diamonds alone would be enough for three months of Jack’s imported medicine. The manager approached cautiously. “Commander Sterling, I’m so sorry… this drink, this idiot broke it.” Black military boots stopped in front of me. Jack frowned impatiently. “Alright.” He pointed at me. “Since you broke it, clean this carpet by hand. If Monica steps on even a shard of glass, you’ll swallow it, piece by piece.” I knelt down, moving my palms slowly across the carpet. Broken glass pierced my skin, leaving delicate streaks of blood. Monica let out a soft “hiss,” linking her arm through Jack’s. “Jack, my feet are tired.” “You’re delicate. I’ll carry you out. It’s dirty here.” The black military boots stepped over my hand, moving away without a pause. I knelt there, staring at my bloodied palm, and suddenly let out a low laugh. Tears mixed with warm fluid from my nose, dripping down together. The manager gasped. “What’s wrong with you? So much blood?” I stumbled to my feet, wiping my face haphazardly with my sleeve. The cuff instantly turned red. “Maybe… I’m dying.” Ignoring his startled expression, I turned, letting the blood drip behind me, forming a broken red line as I slowly shuffled out. Pushing open the front door, the sound of porcelain shattering came from the kitchen. Jack was struggling to prop himself up with his arms, trying to get out of the overturned wheelchair. Seeing me, his movements froze, he lowered his head, his eyes quickly reddening. “Seraphina… I just wanted to warm you a cup of milk… I’m so useless… just a cripple…” His speech was slurred, drool trickled from the corner of his mouth, accompanied by trembling hands and desperate eyes, looking exactly like an ALS patient tormented by illness for years. I suddenly remembered that before his “diagnosis,” Jack had severe germophobia. A man who meticulously wiped his service pistol three times a day, whose uniform couldn’t have a single crease, could, for Monica, play this sloppy, suffering act for five years. At this moment, I almost wanted to cut open his chest with a knife to see if his heart was made of stone. Seeing me silent, he slumped his shoulders in despair. “Seraphina… do you despise me now? Just leave… don’t bother with me anymore…” I silently walked over, righted the wheelchair, and helped him into it. Then, I fetched warm water to clean him up. He suddenly gripped my wrist, his gaze falling on my bloody, mangled palm. “How did this happen? Who hurt you?” I stared into his feigned anxiety. “Someone very much like you hurt me.” “At the Grand Imperial Hotel.” 2 Jack’s jaw tightened abruptly. I smiled again. “But I know that wasn’t you. Jack would never lie to me, right?” Jack’s gaze darted away. “Of course not. Seraphina is the most important person to me, I’d never lie to you.” I fiercely suppressed the bitterness in my eyes, then turned and pushed him out of the kitchen. After preparing and serving dinner, the living room was empty. The bedroom door was ajar, and hushed voices drifted out. “Good girl, Monica, I’ve prepared a big surprise for you tomorrow, a special birthday celebration.” On the other end of the line, Monica’s voice was sweet and soft. “But tomorrow… it’s also Seraphina’s birthday, isn’t it? Won’t she be sad if you don’t spend it with her?” “Silly girl. You’re the most important treasure to me. Seraphina stopped celebrating her birthday ages ago, she’s used to it.” Monica cheered. “I knew you were the best, Jack!” I stood by the door for a long time. Finally, I silently untied my apron and turned to leave. When Jack wheeled himself out, the house was already empty. On the dining table lay a bowl of noodle soup and an imported pill wrapped in foil. Usually by this time, I would have left for my night shift. His mind flashed back to my bloodless face, the grotesque wounds on my palm, and that spine so thin it looked like it would snap in two… A sudden, inexplicable panic seized his heart. He picked up his phone and quickly dialed a number. The next day, at the Military District Hospital. I took Jack for a re-examination. The attending physician’s expression was excited. “Miss Shen! A research institute in the capital has a special medicine that works wonders for ALS! I’ve secured a trial spot for Commander Sterling!” Compared to his excitement, I merely asked calmly, “What’s the recovery rate?” “Over eighty percent!” Jack obligingly reddened his eyes. “Seraphina… I can get better… I can continue to be with you…” I forced a faint smile. “If only one of us could live, Jack, I would always hope it was you.” Jack was stunned, his brows deeply furrowed. “Nonsense! We’ll both live well. Once I recover and return to the forces, you’ll still be the proudest sniper in the military district—” But I no longer wanted this “pride.” Nor did I want Jack anymore. The doctor, citing “complex examination procedures,” politely asked me to leave the office. I knew it was just an excuse to get rid of me. I stood at the corner of the hallway, watching Jack quickly change out of his hospital gown and walk steadily into the elevator. Downstairs, the familiar black military sedan had been waiting for a long time. I silently withdrew my gaze and turned to walk into another consultation room at the end of the hallway. “Miss Shen, your brain tumor has already compressed major nerves, and surgery is no longer an option.” The doctor sighed heavily. “Perhaps half a month ago… there might have been hope. It’s likely… just these last couple of days. Say your goodbyes to your family.” I sat quietly for a long time before slowly nodding. “After I die, please have me cremated directly. My ashes… please send them to the Sterling Family Residence in West Hill Military District, to Commander Jack Sterling.” Leaving the only money I had on me, I walked out of the hospital. My phone screen lit up, a new message popped up: “Come to the family residence and take a look.” The sender was Monica. I hailed a cab and went to the West Hill Family Residence. Five years. The single-family house in the military district compound, which I thought had long since changed hands, was now brightly lit, adorned like a fairytale castle. Guests filled the house, elegantly dressed. Monica, wearing a diamond-studded tiara and a pristine white haute couture gown, clung tightly to Jack’s arm. They were surrounded by people, standing before a six-tier cake. She clasped her hands together, her voice sweet: “My wish is to be Jack’s only little princess, forever and ever.” Jack smiled, taking a dark blue velvet box from his military uniform pocket. The moment the box opened. All the blood in my body felt as if it had frozen instantly.

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For our anniversary, my boyfriend gifted me a white gold Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet. My best friend, a luxury appraiser, took one look at it and shook her head. “It is a straight-up fake.” Fuelled by a nagging suspicion, I asked my boyfriend to send me a screenshot of the digital receipt. The image showed the official Van Cleef flagship store. Total amount spent was $7,500. But when I brought the screenshot to our girls’ brunch, they instantly spotted the glaring inconsistency. “The bracelet on your wrist is fake, but this receipt is one hundred percent real. That makes zero sense.” Sarah zoomed in on the image. “Babe, look at the bottom of the screenshot. There is a recommended products section.” She pointed directly at a targeted ad right below the receipt. “He definitely bought two bracelets. One real, one fake.” If he gave me the fake one… then who got the real one? … The mood at the table instantly plummeted. Just two days ago, I was flexing my relationship all over Instagram, posting aesthetic pictures of my beautiful new Van Cleef bracelet from every conceivable angle. Now, I was sitting here holding a cheap piece of metal. And the man I loved had bought the real diamond piece for someone else. “Nora, if he really wanted to drop that kind of cash on you, wouldn’t he take you into the boutique to pick it out together?” Jess asked gently. “A typical straight guy buying a last-minute gift would just grab whatever is trending. But Carter specifically hunted down the Guilloché white gold series. He either suddenly developed impeccable taste, or someone else picked it out for him.” Sarah grabbed my hand, her expression serious. “Your top priority right now is finding out exactly where that real bracelet went.” Their words planted a seed of absolute dread in my stomach. I pulled out my phone and stared at the screenshot Carter sent me that morning. I focused on the algorithm’s recommended items beneath his order confirmation. The product title read clearly in bold text. High-quality Van Cleef dupes so good your girlfriend will never know. Unless a user actively searched for counterfeit jewelry, the algorithm would never push such a specific product to Carter’s feed. Armed with a terrifying gut feeling, I knew I had to see the actual order history on his phone with my own eyes. 1 “Nora? What are you doing home so early?” Carter was lounging on the living room sofa. He opened his arms for a hug. “Did you go out shopping today? Tell me what you bought, I will reimburse you.” He looked at me with those soft, loving eyes, acting as if absolutely nothing in our world had changed. But there was an invisible, $7,500 receipt standing between us. Until I knew the truth, I could not bring myself to fall into his arms. “Carter.” He hummed in response, and I casually dropped the bait. “Jess was telling me about this amazing new skincare line. Can I use your account to order it?” Just like always, Carter agreed without a second of hesitation and tossed his unlocked phone straight into my hands. “Pick out whatever you want, baby. Consider it an extra weekend treat.” He pushed himself up from the sofa. “I am going to grab a hot shower. Just leave the phone on the nightstand when you are done.” I smiled and nodded. My fingers automatically typed in my birthday to keep the screen awake. Maybe I was just being paranoid. Carter was the ultimate catch, the kind of loyal guy everyone envied. He never guarded his phone, always told me exactly where he was, and never stayed out late. The bracelet thing had to be some bizarre misunderstanding. That fragile hope shattered into a million pieces three seconds later. I did not even have to dig through his shopping app. I just opened his delivery tracker. The moment his account loaded, a flood of unread notifications popped up. Your gift order is currently out for delivery. I clicked the tab. The screen was absolutely packed with orders going to another address. It started with imported snacks and expensive aesthetic home decor, then escalated to fine jewelry. The final nail in the coffin was an order placed just two days ago. A set of incredibly sheer, expensive lingerie. Carter had another woman. 2 I used my own phone to search for the best ways to catch a cheating partner. The internet provided hundreds of creative methods. Following their advice, I scoured Carter’s ride-share history, his food delivery apps, and his download logs. He had scrubbed everything spotless. It was not until I opened his messenger app and checked the hidden folder in the top right corner that I hit the jackpot. The contact name was Kitty Cat. The profile picture was an anime girl holding a bouquet of flowers. Carter’s last message to her was sent ten minutes ago. Baby, I just gave my phone to her so she can buy some crap. I will text you a bit later. She replied with an eye-roll sticker. All she does is shop. Nora seriously treats you like a walking ATM. She does not even appreciate how hard you work to provide for her. A second later, another text popped up. Kisses, hubby. See you later. Staring at the glowing screen, my hands began to shake uncontrollably. I scrolled up. They exchanged hundreds of messages a day. Even when Carter and I were sitting on the couch watching a movie, he was secretly texting her his review of the film. With me, Carter was always polite, polished, and composed. But in this hidden chat, he let his true colors show. He used this space to trash-talk his annoying clients, celebrate his financial wins, and even ask her opinion on what pajamas to buy. Nora does not have boobs as big as mine, the mistress texted. Give me the silk set with the deep V-neck. You can just buy her a similar colored crewneck set from a different brand. She is so clueless anyway. She will never even notice it is not the women’s version of the set. Three days after that text, Carter handed me the exact pajamas she had picked out. He had smiled perfectly and said, “The women’s set was out of stock, so I tracked down a similar one. Now we have matching couple pajamas.” I had thought it was incredibly sweet at the time. Now, reading the truth, my nails dug painfully into my palms. The nausea really hit when I saw Carter’s response to her. Well, your big boobs are entirely my doing anyway. The chat was a cesspool of explicit photos and filthy sexts. To my face, Carter swore I was his one and only. Behind my back, he was spending his days worshiping another woman. He had put an insane amount of effort into keeping me totally blind. Hearing the shower water shut off, I stopped scrolling and checked the timestamp of their very first message. It was from July 18th of last year. A perfectly innocent start. Carter had asked her, Do you guys carry pink climbing roses? My girlfriend loves them. Before locking his phone, I casually added two sets of ultra-premium La Mer skincare to his cart, checked out, and tossed the device onto the bed. A minute later, Carter walked out with a towel wrapped around his waist. “All done? Did you make sure to treat yourself?” “Yeah.” I glanced at him, quickly pivoting the conversation. “Carter, the flowers in the living room are wilting. Which shop do you usually buy them from? Send me their contact info.” I watched a microscopic flinch ripple across his face. That was all the confirmation I needed. His precious little mistress was the florist. “I will just pick some up on my way home from work tomorrow,” he said smoothly. “It is way too hot outside. I do not want you dealing with the traffic.” He was terrified to tell me, and I did not push him. When he leaned in to kiss my cheek, I put a hand on his chest and shoved him back gently. “I am exhausted today. Go sleep in the guest room.” Carter blinked, then gave me an affectionate pat on the head. “Alright. Get some rest, baby.” The moment he stepped into the guest room, his thumbs started flying across his screen. I watched the messages sync live to my laptop. Nora is acting completely psychotic tonight. I just bought her thousands of dollars in skincare, and she kicks me out of my own bedroom. She is so ungrateful. The other woman replied instantly. Come over to my place, hubby. I just got a brand new lace set delivered today. 3 Staring at the synchronized chat logs on my screen, everything felt like a hollow hallucination. I did not even notice Carter walk back into the master bedroom. “Nora, a client just called with an absolute emergency. I have to head back to the office and put out a fire.” “Nora?” I snapped back to reality and gave him a numb nod. “Don’t work too hard.” The next morning, I cornered Carter and insisted we go to the flower shop together. He tried every excuse to stop me, but he could not push too hard without looking suspicious. Out of options, he frantically texted a warning to his mistress and drove me to the boutique near his office. “It is right on my commute, which is why I always buy your bouquets here,” he lied effortlessly. I nodded, looking through the pristine glass storefront. I immediately recognized the woman from the profile picture. She had a stunning hourglass figure, flawless makeup, and an aura of mature, calculated seduction. “Mr. Cherry.” She strutted over in her stilettos, flashing Carter a sickeningly sweet look. “Is this your girlfriend? She is so cute.” Carter wrapped a stiff arm around my waist. “This is Nora. Nora, meet Katrina, the owner of the shop.” Katrina. Kitty Cat. It was definitely her. After asking what kind of floral arrangement I wanted, Katrina insisted we sit in the VIP lounge for some tea. She poured Carter a fragrant brew in an exquisite, hand-painted porcelain cup. Then, she handed me a flimsy plastic cup filled with plain tap water. “Nora, do you have any idea what kind of tea this is?” I gripped the cheap plastic, glancing at the amber liquid in Carter’s cup. Before I could even guess, Katrina cut me off. “A real connoisseur does not even need to taste it. One breath of the aroma tells you everything you need to know about the brew.” Katrina sat down entirely too close to Carter, her chin tilted up in sheer arrogance, her eyes locked onto mine. She was waiting for me to make a fool of myself. So I gave a careless shrug. “Looks like basic black tea to me.” Katrina let out a loud, mocking laugh. She grabbed Carter’s bicep, leaning into him. “Your girlfriend really doesn’t know her stuff, does she? Does she only categorize things by color?” “That is hilarious, Nora. You know there are more than just green and black teas in the world, right?” She reached under the table and pulled out a velvet-lined display box. “This is a highly exclusive strain of aged Oolong. But since you clearly do not understand luxury, you are better off sticking to your tap water. It probably all tastes the same to you anyway.” Katrina was practically radiating superiority. She was talking down to me like I was dirt on her shoe. Just like they did in their private chats. To them, I was just a clueless, uncultured peasant. “This is an excellent vintage, but Katrina…” Carter set his porcelain cup down, giving her a pointed, warning look. “Please do not speak to my girlfriend like that. She just doesn’t study tea. That doesn’t mean she is ignorant.” Once upon a time, I would have melted at that. I would have thought I had the best, most protective boyfriend in the world. Now, it just made my skin crawl. Did he honestly think I could not see their fingers secretly twisting together under the glass coffee table? “I have some errands to run. I am leaving. You can bring the flowers home yourself.” I slammed the plastic cup down and stood up. As I grabbed my purse, I made direct eye contact with Carter. He instantly read the pure fury in my eyes. He panicked and grabbed my wrist. “Let me drive you home.” Watching him beg me, Katrina’s triumphant smile cracked. She masked her jealousy with a sweet gasp. “Wait just a second! A fresh shipment of ice-blue roses just arrived in the back. Let me grab a few stems for Nora as an apology!” Ten seconds later, a loud, theatrical scream echoed from the back room. “Oh my god!” Carter dropped my wrist instantly. He sprinted toward the back room without a second thought. “What happened?! Are you bleeding? We need to sanitize that immediately!” His voice was raw with genuine panic. He grabbed Katrina’s hand, pressing his own palm over a tiny scratch on her finger. I stood by the heavy glass door, looking back at them. I said his name softly. “Carter.” “Nora, just catch an Uber home! I have to take Katrina to the ER. Those trimming shears were rusty, she could get tetanus!” He didn’t even look up at me. To save time, he simply scooped Katrina up into his arms bridal style. He treated me like a doorman, marching straight past me and out the door. Over his shoulder, I saw Katrina shoot me a smug, victorious glare. I saw exactly how much he truly cared about her. I stood alone in the sweltering afternoon heat, watching his car speed off toward the hospital. Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I knew by heart. “I changed my mind. I will marry you.”

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1 I was focused on driving on the freeway when my husband’s cousin, Skye, let out a piercing shriek from the passenger seat. “Look out, someone’s up ahead!” she yelled, reaching over and yanking the steering wheel hard. The airbags burst open, and through the ringing in my ears, I heard her giggle, “Just kidding!” She even shrieked with excitement, “This is way more fun than bumper cars!” I stomped on the brakes, trembling with anger as I cursed her reckless behavior. But she pouted, claiming I was too mean. “How could you understand a sweet girl like me, Evie?” she whined. My husband, Dan, had a bump on his forehead, yet he defended her, saying she was young and didn’t know any better, telling me to let it go. But Skye was always like this, her words laced with provocation, and Dan always just washed his hands of it. Watching Skye’s smug expression, I activated my system. I chose to redeem a reward, intending to make her careless words become reality. …… I got out of the car. The front end and the barrier were wrecked. I had no choice but to call the police. Calculating the time, if we handled this quickly, I should still make it back for my father-in-law’s funeral. The traffic officer reviewed the dashcam footage, then, stone-faced, asked Skye to explain herself. Skye blinked, still wearing that innocent expression. “I’m just a sweet girl, what do I know about all this? It was just a joke!” “Nobody got killed, why are you being so serious?” The officer frowned, scolding her, “Whether it’s a joke or not isn’t up to you to decide!” “Grabbing the steering wheel on the freeway is a seriously dangerous act!” “Additionally, the damaged guardrail will need to be compensated!” Skye froze in fear. She immediately turned to my husband. “Dan… the nice officer is being mean to me…” Dan finally ambled over, his tone dismissive. “What’s the big deal? You were driving anyway, just deal with it.” “Skye is still young. She was just playing with you because she likes you.” Skye hugged Dan’s waist, peeking out to flash me a defiant smile. I took a deep breath. This wasn’t the first time. When we traveled abroad, Skye insinuated I was a spy, leading to me being strip-searched in a tiny room. When I rushed my mom to the hospital, she insisted to a traffic officer that I was drunk driving, almost making my mom miss the golden hour for treatment. Anytime we went through airport security, she’d claim I had dangerous items, only to say later she was “just messing around.” Dan always laughed along with Skye, watching me awkwardly clean up the mess. Then, with a simple, “She’s just a kid,” he’d dismiss it. For Dan, I had endured it all. But now she dared to snatch the steering wheel on the freeway? If I kept enduring, what if she got me killed? Would they dance on my grave? I let out a cold laugh. “She’s twenty-two this year, isn’t she?” “Still a kid? Is she mentally challenged or just plain stupid?” Skye’s eyes immediately welled up. “…I’m a sweet girl, not stupid…” “Evie!” Dan barked suddenly. “Watch your tone!” I looked at him. “I am being polite enough!” “If I wasn’t pressed for time, I’d press charges against her for illegal interference with driving!” “Dad’s funeral is in a few hours. You’d better tell your cousin not to make trouble now!” But Dan just waved his hand casually. “You’re the one in a hurry, not me.” I froze. “What do you mean?” Dan sneered. “Killing your own father wasn’t enough, now your stepfather is dead too, thanks to you.” “Honestly, what does your family’s death have to do with me? I brought my cousin to keep you company, and you’re still treating Skye like this?” “So let’s just waste time. If you don’t get to see him one last time, don’t come crying to me!” I stood there, my fingertips slowly tightening. No wonder he hadn’t been in a rush the whole way, letting Skye mess around. I scoffed. Well, if that was the case, why should I be in a hurry? I spoke directly to the system in my mind: “I want to redeem a reward.” “From this moment on, every careless, mean-spirited thing my cousin says will come true!” The system replied quickly. [Verifying. Reward content: Skye’s mean words come true. Host, please confirm.] I thought about it. “What if she talks about past events? Like making up something I did before, will that come true?” [This ability only affects current events. Established past facts cannot be altered.] “Then what is the standard for ‘mean-spirited’?” [The system will detect Skye’s malice index towards the host to make a judgment.] I felt reassured. “Confirm redemption!” The next moment, something seemed to expand from my consciousness, silently settling upon Skye. I decided to test how far the system could go. Suddenly, Skye mumbled under her breath, “I actually grabbed the steering wheel because I found white powder in the tire…” [Ding! Detected Skye’s mean words! Content has come true!] 2 I almost yelled, “Holy cow!” The two traffic officers exchanged glances, their expressions instantly turning sharp. “What did you just say?” Skye flinched under their gaze, but foolishly continued her mean-spirited chatter: “She was driving so fast on the freeway to smuggle those things…” “So, I’m not really interfering with driving, am I? I’m a good girl!” She glanced at me, then quickly lowered her head. “Oh, Evie… You specifically told me not to look or touch anything when I got in the car, I really didn’t mean to…!” Skye hadn’t even finished speaking when one of the officers’ voices abruptly rose. “Everyone, stay put!” My wrist suddenly tightened, and I was handcuffed behind my back. “As the driver, you need to come with us and cooperate with the investigation!” I was restrained to the side. But not only did I not struggle, I almost couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Unbelievable, just like Skye, she really dared to say that! Anyway, the car belonged to Dan. With such a ridiculous amount of white powder, he wouldn’t even need to attend the funeral; he could go straight to the grave to join his dad! Skye mimicked a child’s innocent demeanor, speaking in a cutesy voice, “Wow, Dan, look, it’s just like in those TV shows when the police catch bad guys!” Dan stood beside her, looking relaxed. He, of course, knew Skye was messing around again. “You’re probably going to cause your sister-in-law some trouble.” “But she did look quite convincing just now.” The two of them pointed at me, restrained, and laughed uproariously. The officer’s face was already grim; he immediately rebuked Skye, “This is a serious law enforcement scene, potentially involving a major case!” “If you keep messing around, you’ll be taken in too!” Skye completely ignored him, staring at me for a good while. As if she’d had her fill of my “helplessly arrested” look, she slowly walked towards the car’s tire. She crouched down and pulled a small knife from her bag. “I think I remember Evie hid the white powder in this tire?” “Oh, it’s really just a small problem, officers, you’re being too nervous, because—” She said, casually plunging the knife into the tire. “I was just joking!” Pfft! The tire was punctured. She didn’t even look down. She had already turned around, still waving cheerfully. “See! There’s nothing there!” “You’re making too big a deal out of it. I’ve only seen white powder in movies; I can’t believe I actually tricked them!” She giggled and laughed at Dan. “Look how nervous they are, they didn’t actually believe it, did they?” Dan patted Skye’s head, his tone casual. “Alright, stop messing around.” “If you keep talking like that, they’ll actually take it seriously.” Then he smiled, trying to smooth things over. “My cousin is just so witty and amusing, please don’t mind her—” He hadn’t finished speaking when a sharp command suddenly rang out. “Hold them down!” Several officers instantly rushed forward. The two of them hadn’t even reacted before their hands were cuffed behind their backs. A frantic voice came through the walkie-talkie: “On-site anomaly confirmed! Extremely high concentration of contraband!” “Seal the area! Secure the scene!” Dan was completely bewildered. “Are you serious? My cousin was just joking!” A police officer cut him off coldly, “Joking?” “Why don’t you look behind you yourselves!” They both instinctively turned their heads. Through the punctured tire, white powder was slowly, steadily, beginning to seep out. 3 Skye’s smile froze, and her voice trembled. “I-I just said that off the cuff…” “How could there actually be…?” Dan was also dumbfounded. “How is this possible?!” He abruptly turned, his gaze fixed on me. “Evie! Did you put something in the car when I wasn’t looking?!” But I laughed aloud. “Who usually drives the car? Whose hands are the keys in?” “This is the first time I’ve touched this car today.” The police officers’ gazes had clearly shifted. From focusing on me, their attention slowly moved to the other side. Dan opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of anything to refute. Soon, several cars pulled up behind the caution tape. Someone put on gloves and carefully scraped the fine white powder from the tire’s puncture, placing it into a sample bag. Skye was completely silent now. Dan’s face was pale, his forehead faintly glistening with sweat. And I felt a sense of anticipation I’d never experienced before. Let them enjoy their loose lips! A few minutes later. One of the personnel stood up, sighing. “It’s not contraband.” “It’s just ordinary white flour.” I froze for a moment. Flour? How was that possible? I mentally shrieked, asking: [System, what’s going on?!”] The system’s voice quickly responded. [Detecting target’s statement: ‘white powder’.] [This description is a vague substance designation, already matched to the most basic meaning – white flour.] My throat tightened. An indescribable frustration surged, choking me. The police were also very speechless. “Repeatedly mentioning contraband at a law enforcement scene, causing misjudgment and interfering with the enforcement process!” “Do you think this is funny?!” The two of them were taken away for a serious dressing-down. When they came out, Dan exploded. “Skye, do you even hear yourself?!” “White powder? What were you thinking?!” Skye’s eyes immediately reddened from his shouting. “I just said it casually…” “You used to say I was cute like this…” Dan cut her off directly, “This is in public!” “You almost made things spiral out of control just now!” Skye choked on her words. She clearly reined herself in a lot. My fingertips slowly tightened. My hard-won, cross-dimensional reward, and all I got was a car full of flour? Too much of a loss. I couldn’t just let it go! I looked at Skye; she looked like she’d been severely scolded. But I knew exactly what kind of person she was. She couldn’t keep quiet for more than three minutes. While Dan went to pay the fine, I approached Skye. “That’s it?” Skye sharply looked up at me. I spoke unhurriedly: “I thought you could come up with something new.” Skye’s face instantly changed. “What do you mean?!” I smiled, my tone even calmer. “Just think it’s pretty boring.” “And look, your cousin is already losing patience playing with you.” Skye’s eyes were slightly red. “You’re lying!” “Even if my cousin doesn’t pay attention to me, he wouldn’t bother with a trashy woman like you, would he?!” “I’m telling you, no matter how much I mess up, my cousin will always protect me unconditionally?!” Watching Dan walk back, looking annoyed, I simply said calmly, “Really? Why don’t I believe that?” Skye, Skye, please don’t disappoint me. 4 The officers gave a few more instructions, then allowed us to leave. Suddenly, Skye spoke up again. “Officers! The flour was just a distraction!” “Actually, my sister-in-law has a body hidden in the car’s trunk!” Dan’s face changed. “Skye! Shut up!” He was truly shaken by the previous incident. “Can you mess around with some sense of occasion?!” Skye acted as if she hadn’t heard him. Instead, she leaned closer to him, lowering her voice, speaking in a hushed, urgent tone: “Dan, look at that trashy woman’s smug face! The flour was definitely her deliberately toying with us! She made fools of us, and we got fined, are we just going to let it go?” Dan paused. Skye’s eyes glinted maliciously, her voice extremely low: “Don’t you remember why she’s rushing back today?” A faint, malicious smile touched her lips. “Just stall her, make her miss her dad’s last moments, make her regret it for life!” “Just say anything, let the police check again.” “At most, we’ll get scolded a few more times.” “But she, she’ll be too late!” Dan’s eyes flickered. Then he no longer stopped her. I wasn’t annoyed; instead, I looked at Skye. “You just said I had a body hidden?” “So, tell me, whose body did I hide?” Skye clearly paused. She hadn’t expected me to retort. I deliberately said, “I’m only rushing back today for Dad’s funeral.” “When would I have time to kill someone?” Skye’s eyes flashed. She indeed took the bait. “Who said you didn’t have time?!” “I saw you steal your dad’s body and hide it in the trunk! His organs were all dug out and put in a cooler!” Ignorance is truly terrifying. Such absurd words, even I found them exciting! She grew more self-righteous as she spoke. “Evie, you’re an absolute monster! To pay off your loan sharks, you actually stooped to messing with your dad’s corpse!” “I even heard you on the phone talking about trading organs!” [Ding! Detected complex mean-spirited content from Skye! Only partial content can come true!] Several police officers exchanged glances. The expressions on their faces were no longer tense. Instead, they showed obvious impatience and suspicion. A nearby officer murmured, “This person has made multiple false statements.” But if someone reports it, the procedure still has to be followed. At this point, Dan leaned closer to me, a cold sneer playing on his lips. “Now it’s impossible for them to let us go for several hours.” “You probably won’t make it to see your dad one last time, will you?” “Serves you right!” I looked at him. I also smiled, but my tone was a little cryptic. “Yes.” “I wouldn’t have made it, normally.” “But now—maybe I will.” Dan clearly didn’t understand. “What do you mean?” But I said nothing more. I just watched the police search the car. The moment the trunk was opened, Skye eagerly spoke up. She giggled, “Of course there’s nothing in the trunk, because my sister-in-law halfway…” Her voice abruptly stopped. Because a heavy, sickening smell of blood suddenly surged from the trunk. “Back off!” “Secure the scene!!” The police officer’s face drastically changed, and his voice sharply rose. Dan looked at the trunk, completely stunned. “This is impossible…” And the system’s voice also sounded at the same time. [Target’s statement “father’s body” condition is met, but host’s father passed away years ago.] [Since the ‘father’ about to be buried is Dan’s father, the target of organ trafficking is re-assigned!] [Partial content of the mean words has come true!]

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The Head of Surgery’s roar still echoed in my ears, yet all I felt was utter absurdity. Just because I, a neurosurgeon, had treated a patient’s head wound, my assistant had turned around and reported me. “Hospital regulations prohibit operating beyond your level, Dr. Ellis, you’re fired!” When he flung those words at me, I couldn’t help but ask—who in this entire hospital could stitch better than me? But the Head of Surgery only sighed helplessly: “Dr. Ellis, when a superior takes over a subordinate’s work, it counts as exceeding your level.” “Suturing is an assistant’s responsibility. Your job is to be the lead surgeon!” His words were like a thorn, drawing a cold laugh from me. As I left the hospital without a backward glance, I thought this was just a minor blip in my career. It wasn’t until a week later, when the news came that the billionaire’s father urgently needed brain surgery and specifically requested me as the lead surgeon, that I heard the Head of Surgery had completely panicked. … 1. A patient came into the ER this morning. He’d fallen from a factory platform, suffering severe head bleeding, in critical condition. He was already semi-conscious when they brought him in. His family was wailing and begging, even kneeling to the medical staff for help. I had just gotten off the operating table when I saw the scene. A nurse ran over, calling my name and updating me on his condition. I quickly went over, took a look, and immediately decided to suture and stop the bleeding in the treatment room before doing a full-body check. It was this completely impulsive act, driven by a desperate desire to save a life, that landed me in serious trouble. 2. As a neurosurgery specialist, I quickly brought the patient’s deteriorating condition under control. The bleeding stopped, and the suturing was successful. After informing the family of his condition outside, I instructed the nurses to admit him and check for any other injuries. The family was overjoyed, bowing and expressing their gratitude profusely. I smiled, waved them off, and told them to go complete the admission process. No sooner had the family left than my assistant, Leo, arrived, fully geared up and looking flustered, just as I was about to change. “Where’s the patient? Get the disinfectants ready!” he commanded the nurses in a rush. The nurse told him the suturing was already done. Leo’s gaze immediately fell on me. He scrutinized me from head to toe, his eyes flashing with displeasure. “The patient’s condition was quite urgent earlier, with severe bleeding, but it’s been handled now,” I explained simply. Leo had only recently joined the hospital and hadn’t been out of medical school for long. He highly valued clinical experience. He had privately approached many doctors, taking on all the dirty and difficult work. His goal was to get more opportunities for surgical procedures. I knew this. So, for the sake of collegial relations, I explained it to him to avoid any misunderstandings. “Dr. Ellis, were you being deliberate?” Leo suddenly asked me this. Then he continued, “Is it because I told the Head of Surgery last time that you were drinking glucose, and you’re holding a grudge?” “You must know that a rookie doctor like me values such opportunities greatly. You did this on purpose!” 3. Due to fluctuating temperatures, blood vessels were prone to issues, leading to a surge in neurosurgeries last week. I had performed several consecutive operations and was feeling exhausted, so I drank a bottle of glucose to replenish my energy. Leo saw this. He didn’t react then but immediately reported me to the Head of Surgery, Dr. Bennett, after the surgery. Dr. Bennett was my girlfriend; we met in college. Upon hearing the report, she was unusually puzzled. She lambasted me, demanding to know how I could make such a rookie mistake. She wouldn’t listen to my explanation, just reprimanded me, and then told me to leave. The next day, at the all-staff meeting, she used me as a prime example. She was passionately lecturing everyone about preventing such incidents, her emotions so high that it seemed she might fire me at any second. That’s when I produced the receipt for the glucose. I told her, “Knowing there would be several surgeries and no time to eat, I prepared it in advance.” The meeting was supposed to last half an hour. After that incident, it ended in fifteen minutes. Afterward, Dr. Bennett accused me of disrespecting her, asking why I hadn’t shown the evidence sooner and why I had humiliated her in front of so many people. “You didn’t give me a chance to explain.” I simply replied. Then I continued, “If you’re tired of seeing me, just say so. I can leave.” 4. My thoughts returned to the present. Looking at Leo, who seemed on the verge of exploding, I simply told him, “The patient’s condition couldn’t wait. I wouldn’t gamble with a patient’s life just to give you an opportunity.” With that, I walked away. The nurses, having witnessed everything, whispered to each other, glancing in Leo’s direction. Back in the doctors’ office, I was about to organize the patient’s medical records when Dr. Bennett’s call came through. Her voice was cold. “Come to my office.” My right eyelid twitched a few times. I smirked at my reflection. What exactly was Dr. Bennett up to? Entering the Head of Surgery’s office, Dr. Bennett’s sigh was the first sound. “You’ve been reported again.” I nodded. “I figured. It’s the new assistant, Leo.” Dr. Bennett paused, then leaned back in her chair, immediately adopting a helpless demeanor. She began lecturing me in her official, authoritative tone. “Dr. Ellis, you’re an experienced professional. You must see that Leo has connections, right? Couldn’t you be more careful under his nose?” “I know he likely has connections, and he definitely knows about our relationship,” I replied, as calm as water. Dr. Bennett frowned. “No one knows about our relationship. That’s what we agreed on.” Hearing that, I laughed. I didn’t know if she was playing dumb or thought I was. “Out of all the doctors in the hospital, he’s only reported me, and twice in a row.” “He’s always respectful to others, but only cold to me.” Dr. Bennett immediately denied it. “You’re overthinking.” I chuckled softly, not replying. What was the point of saying more to someone who refused to admit the truth? “If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave.” I didn’t want to stay any longer. “Wait, we haven’t discussed the main issue.” Dr. Bennett called out to me. The moment I turned, I caught a glimpse of guilt in her eyes. Her voice dropped. “You’re fired.” Even though I knew there was something wrong with this, I never expected Dr. Bennett to fire me over this incident. I asked, “Why? Just because I sutured the patient’s wound?” Dr. Bennett nodded slowly, then said pompously, “Dr. Ellis, acting above your station is also considered exceeding your level.” “Suturing wounds is what an assistant should do. Your main job is surgery.” Hearing this, I couldn’t help but laugh. My heart felt pierced by countless needles. I wanted to ask her, have you fallen for someone else? But the words died in my throat. I felt it would only make me seem more pathetic. So I simply asked her, with professional detachment, “What if the patient died waiting for him to arrive?” “Medicine always has risks. No one can avoid them.” “But I had confidence I could save him,” I pressed. “That’s just your judgment. Your judgment doesn’t represent everything!” Dr. Bennett stood up, somewhat annoyed. “Even if someone died because of it, and the family made a scene, the hospital’s patient relations office would handle it. It would have nothing to do with you. But your current actions clearly violate hospital regulations!” Watching Dr. Bennett’s furious face, I asked, “How did you become like this?” She used to rush any small animal hit by a car on the street to the vet clinic, even missing an important exam once. How could someone who respected life so much have changed so drastically? “You changed the moment you became Head of Surgery. If you were still a doctor, would you say such things?” “Don’t twist my words!” Dr. Bennett’s eyes darted away. She sat back down, her voice cold. “The position you’re in dictates your awareness. The past is the past, and now is now.” “You should leave. Pack your things and go. For old times’ sake, I don’t want to provoke you further.” There were no old times. If there were, I wouldn’t be targeted. My heart had completely chilled. But, “I won’t resign.” 5. Dr. Bennett’s eyebrows shot up, as if I had offended her deeply. “Dr. Ellis, what did you say?” “I’m not resigning,” I repeated. Dr. Bennett grew impatient, scolding me. “Don’t be so thick-skinned, okay? Can’t you see what I mean? Don’t you know this just makes me dislike you more?” “You’re likely mistaken. I’m staying not to harass you, but because in a few days…” “Enough!” Dr. Bennett cut me off. “You know my family background. I got this position, and you had a chance to be hired, all thanks to me!” I didn’t deny this. I had indeed gotten in because of her. I said, “This matter, I…” “What are you still saying? Without me, you’re nothing! Now I’m telling you to leave, so leave!” She erupted in anger. Her words completely shattered my dignity. I didn’t say anything, just stared at her. Dr. Bennett took a few deep breaths, then raised her hand. “Leave this hospital, and I’ll find someone to get you into another one. Consider it my way of giving you an out.” “I said I’m not leaving. I have an important surgery coming up, and no one else but me can perform it.” “Dr. Ellis!” Dr. Bennett’s eyes widened. “I’ve given you enough face, enough consideration for your dignity. I advise you not to push me to say harsher things!” I forced a faint smile. “I’ll talk to you after you’ve calmed down.” I turned to leave. The file box she threw flew past my cheek, smashing loudly against the door. 6. In the hospital corridor, I took a deep breath. I hoped the billionaire’s father would arrive soon. The billionaire had been kind to me. My family was poor, and I earned my college tuition by washing dishes. The hotel owner, upon learning of my situation, gave me a raise and provided me with housing. Later, somehow, the story reached the billionaire. He covered all my college expenses. Without him, I would have had to work multiple part-time jobs, with no time to focus on my studies. I would probably have graduated as just another greenhorn with a diploma. Actually, during graduation season, the billionaire offered to arrange a job for me, but with Dr. Bennett by my side then, I didn’t want to trouble him. Later, my medical skills steadily improved, and I became one of the top specialists in the field. When I heard that the billionaire’s father needed brain surgery and specifically requested me as the lead surgeon, I naturally had no reason to refuse. Now, I hoped they would come soon. Because I was afraid that if too much time passed, I wouldn’t be able to hold on, and the old man’s condition would be delayed. 7. Back in the doctors’ office, I saw Leo with his arms crossed, directing a few nurses to move things from my desk. “Throw those files in storage. If anyone needs them, they can dig through them later.” “Ellis here is so eager for everyone to know he’s working, piling up discharge reports from years ago on his desk. What a show-off!” “Also, replace this chair for me. I don’t like sitting in chairs other people have used.” “And throw out those potted plants. A grown man with houseplants? He wouldn’t even know if someone gave him a cuckold’s horn, hah.” “What are you doing?” I stepped forward quickly. The nurses immediately stopped what they were doing, explaining as if they’d found a savior. “Dr. Ellis, he said…” “Yes, I said it. Clear out your workstation. From now on, I’m the interim lead surgeon for Neurosurgery.” Leo turned to me, his nose in the air. I was amused by the unfamiliar term “interim lead surgeon.” It meant he’d lead surgeries when he could, and bring in outside help when he couldn’t. Dr. Bennett was truly playing with lives. Leo had almost zero surgical experience. Not long ago, a patient’s wound burst open after being discharged due to inadequate suturing, nearly causing a medical error. The doctor who gave Leo the opportunity was terrified. Luckily, someone with immense power reached an agreement with the family, and the hospital never even questioned it, acting as if nothing happened. But now, someone who hadn’t even mastered basic skills was being appointed “interim lead surgeon.” They didn’t value human lives. “I haven’t agreed to resign, so you can’t have this position.” I told the nurses to stop. The nurses, ignoring Leo’s protests, immediately left the office. Leo was furious, pointing at me and raging. “Ellis, you’re not an idiot. Can’t you see what’s happening? I advise you not to make a fool of yourself!” “You’re the one making a fool of yourself. Someone who can’t even hold a scalpel properly dares to wear this hat.” I said indifferently, pushing him aside and sitting in my chair. Just then, Dr. Bennett suddenly arrived. “Ellis, this is your termination notice.” She slapped a document onto my desk. “You’ll receive all the compensation you’re due, not a penny less. Pack your things and leave.”

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1. Five years ago, my stepsister, Annabelle, burst into my life. She was a master at charming my father, and soon, even my fiancé was captivated by her. Once, to force me to tend to Annabelle’s injury, Father ordered someone to cut off my mother’s oxygen supply during surgery. I bit back my fury and bandaged Annabelle’s wound, but she turned around and accused me of deliberately pressing down hard on it. My fiancé, without hearing me out, cursed me for being vicious and unethical, then roughly pushed me away. He had me locked in our marital suite, saying I wasn’t allowed out until I apologized. That night, under the cover of darkness, I jumped from the window and fled the country. Today, five years later, I was invited back to the States to treat an important figure. But the moment I stepped off the plane, I was intercepted by men sent by my father and ex-fiancé. They tried to forcibly take me to treat Annabelle, whose old illness had relapsed – a chilling replay of five years ago. But what they didn’t know was that the person who invited me back was someone they absolutely couldn’t afford to cross. … Perhaps because I was wearing sunglasses, the man leading the group—my father’s confidant, a man I’d known as Uncle Arthur for twenty-odd years—didn’t recognize me. He spoke with respectful indifference, “I heard a highly skilled doctor was returning on this flight. You must be Dr. Stone, the specialist. Our young lady’s old illness has flared up again. We’d appreciate it if you’d come with us.” “Why should we? Do you have any idea who invited Dr. Stone? Hijacking someone at the airport—is there no law and order anymore?” My assistant, Amy, loudly challenged him, pulling out her phone to contact our client. Uncle Arthur smacked the phone out of her hand. “Law and order? My apologies for not introducing ourselves properly to Dr. Stone. The people asking for you are not ordinary citizens. They are the Thompsons and the Parkers, influential families in Harrington.” “We’re not familiar with Dr. Stone’s background, but you,” Uncle Arthur looked at Amy, “you’re a local. You’ve lived here for twenty-two years. Surely you’ve heard of the Thompsons and the Parkers.” Amy gasped, pulling my arm and whispering, “They’re the ones…” “I know. It’s fine.” I cut her off, then addressed Uncle Arthur. “What if I refuse?” “Then you still don’t understand. To be blunt, the person you are to treat is the only daughter of the Thompson family, and she is also the fiancée of the Parker family heir. Regardless of your purpose for coming to Harrington, the Thompsons and Parkers have their ways.” “So, Dr. Stone, there’s no need to struggle.” With that, he signaled to the bodyguards beside him. One of them immediately reached for my surgical instrument case. In the struggle, the case flew open, scattering instruments across the floor. I rushed to retrieve them, but could only watch in horror as they were trampled underfoot, broken into a thousand pieces. I was furious, shouting at them, “Those are my custom surgical tools! Without them, how am I supposed to operate?” Uncle Arthur sneered. “Don’t worry, Dr. Stone. What surgical tools can’t we buy? The hospital has a full set of equipment ready, just waiting for you.” Buy a damn thing, my rage flared. How could he know that my hand had been broken in a shove, then immediately locked away, missing the best treatment window? Because of that, I spent two years abroad in grueling rehabilitation before I could even pick up a scalpel again. Later, I treated the family member of an international magnate, who specially commissioned a complete set of custom surgical instruments for me at great expense. Even a single pair of forceps cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. And this wasn’t just a matter of money. Without them, how could I perform surgery on my client? The thought of that venerable old man having to suffer for a few more days made my teeth ache with anger. Amy was sobbing hysterically, crying out, “Dr. Stone, what do we do? What do we do?” Uncle Arthur glared at her impatiently. “Now is not the time for your wailing. If you continue to drag your feet and delay Miss Thompson’s treatment, the Thompsons and Parkers will make sure you both disappear without a trace.” I scoffed, “Oh really?” “Of course. For Miss Thompson’s sake, Mr. Thompson and Mr. Parker would give anything. They once, for her, even…” Uncle Arthur trailed off, a sigh escaping him as his tone softened. “Dr. Stone, you’re both young. Be sensible.” “They once, for her, had one kill his own wife, and the other harm and imprison his ex-fiancée?” I finished his unspoken sentence. “Dr. Stone, what are you talking about?” Amy asked, confused. The men opposite me froze. “Uncle Arthur, do you remember me?” I took off my sunglasses. 2. “Miss… Miss Thompson?” Uncle Arthur tentatively stepped forward, carefully scrutinizing my face. Confirming it was truly me, he said, “Mr. Thompson asked me to bring you back.” His tone had changed quickly. I ignored him, took Amy’s hand, and prepared to leave. “Miss Thompson, stop right there.” He shouted, and the bodyguards once again surrounded us. “Miss Thompson knows Mr. Thompson’s temper. If you insist on leaving, please don’t make things difficult for us. Allow me to report to Mr. Thompson.” He pulled out his phone and called my father. “Dr. Stone is indeed Miss Lillian, yes, she’s alive. It’s true. Good.” He handed the phone to me. “Mr. Thompson wants to speak with you.” I didn’t move, so he had to put it on speakerphone. My father’s voice came through. “So they were talking about you, Dr. Stone. I thought you had died when you jumped from the window that year. It seems you simply ran away.” “If you had stayed by Annabelle’s side, she wouldn’t have relapsed. This is your fault. Come back and make amends.” His tone held no joy at my being alive, only an unyielding command. I chuckled softly. “Mr. Thompson, even if you control everything in Harrington, I do not fear your power. I have other commitments. I regret that I cannot treat your beloved daughter.” “Lillian Thompson, I am your father.” The static of the phone crackled in my ear. I laughed lightly. “Mr. Thompson, you’re mistaken. I am Lillian Stone. I have no relation to you.” “Besides, Annabelle is the only daughter of the Thompson family. How could you possibly have another daughter?” The phone went silent for a moment, save for the sound of heavy breathing. When I was twenty-four, I successfully completed a highly complex, high-profile surgery in my field. At the celebration, Annabelle burst in, claiming to be the daughter of my father and his first love. Father took her to his study. I don’t know what they discussed. When they emerged, I had a stepsister. Everyone offered congratulations and flattery, praising Father as a decisive and passionate man. No one cared about my anger or my mother’s forced smile. My mother advised me, “Annabelle’s mother only found out she was pregnant later. It’s rare that she knew your father was married and didn’t try to break up our family. Besides, Annabelle is innocent. Her mother has passed away, and she is seriously ill. Let’s not dwell on the past.” I knew that besides being kind-hearted, my mother was primarily thinking of me. She worried that my father and I would turn against each other because of this. To put her at ease, I conceded step by step. Annabelle said she grew up in poverty, so Father told me to give her my clothes and jewelry. Annabelle said my room was suitable for recuperation, so Father told me to vacate it immediately. Annabelle said she was afraid of going to the hospital and always forgot to take her medicine. So Father told me to arrange everything for her, reminding her to take her medicine three times a day. Finally, when she changed her surname back to her father’s, she refused to share any characters with my name. “My mom named me Annabelle, hoping I’d be safe. Now, my sister’s name also has ‘Ann’ in it. So whose safety is this?” Father still asked me to be understanding. I couldn’t bear it any longer. “My mother also named me. Why should I make concessions for your illegitimate daughter?” “Annabelle is right, you really do look down on her.” Father ignored my objections and bribed the staff. My name changed from Annabelle Thompson to Lillian Thompson. After going abroad, I simply took my mother’s surname. Since he wanted to change it, I might as well give him back the surname altogether. Father was silent for a long moment, then finally said in a low voice, “Keep an eye on her,” before hanging up. Uncle Arthur’s men stared menacingly. We stood in a silent standoff in the airport terminal. A few minutes later, a trembling voice broke the stillness. “Lillian, is that really you?” 3. The next second, I was held tightly in a trembling embrace. Brandon Parker’s eyes were bloodshot. “You’re alive, you’re really alive.” I pushed him away, my voice cold. “Once, I couldn’t stop my fiancé from holding another woman, but I can refuse another’s fiancé from holding me. Mr. Parker, please have some self-respect.” He stiffened, releasing me, his question laced with angry embarrassment. “Lillian, how heartless you are. Five years, a whole five years without a single word from you. Why did you secretly leave? Otherwise, we would have been married by now. If you had just taken care of Annabelle, with her healthy and our family living harmoniously, wouldn’t that have been better? Why couldn’t you tolerate her? Why did you play games with us?” I looked at the face I had loved for so many years and felt a wave of nausea. I remember the day Annabelle appeared. He held me in his arms, saying that even though I wasn’t Father’s only daughter, I would be his only love. Whatever Annabelle took from me, he would buy me double. When Annabelle moved into my bedroom, he discussed our wedding date with Father, hoping I would have my own home soon. So, when I refused to change my name, he also asked me why I was targeting Annabelle. I couldn’t help but wonder if his heart had changed. His face suddenly shifted. He said my thoughts were twisted, that he merely pitied Annabelle’s similar fate. I deflated, because he, too, was initially an unacknowledged child of the Parker family. His heavily pregnant mother was driven out by the elder Mrs. Parker. He was only recognized because the Parker family’s lineage was dwindling. I had no intention of opening Brandon’s old wounds. To apologize, I booked the most expensive hotel and stayed up all night for a week planning his birthday. When I arrived at the hotel, I only received a call from him. “Lillian, thinking about the past, I suddenly don’t feel like celebrating my birthday. I’m sorry.” I had no choice but to cancel, apologizing to each invited friend. Turning around, I saw a party being held in the marital suite he said was still under renovation. Those friends who had been comforting me just minutes before were now shouting “Happy Birthday!” Brandon had his arm around Annabelle’s shoulder, their gazes filled with tender affection for each other. My father, standing nearby, looked utterly gratified, as if he had forgotten this man was the fiancé of his other daughter. Now, how could he have the audacity to say he was family with me? To me, he was worse than a stranger. “Impossible.” He looked at me with a half-smile. “Stop lying. You’re clearly jealous. How many times have I told you, I only have brotherly affection for Annabelle. If I hadn’t thought you were dead, I wouldn’t have gotten engaged to her.” “Lillian, as long as you cure Annabelle this time, we’ll get married right away.” I couldn’t listen anymore, interrupting sharply. “You used your position as a hospital shareholder to block my advancement opportunity—an opportunity I’d been looking forward to for three years—forcing me to operate on Annabelle. You violently shoved me because of her simple slander, causing me to break my right hand. You locked me in a dark room to force me to apologize to Annabelle.” “Brandon, I wish you were dead. How could I ever want to marry you?” My hatred flared. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, and he quickly reached out to examine my right hand: “I didn’t know, I truly didn’t know. No, Lillian, you clearly still love me. I checked. You didn’t take anything with you when you left, only our engagement ring. If you hadn’t been unable to let go… you still care, and you’re deliberately trying to trick me, aren’t you?” “Enough, Brandon.” I shook off his hand. “I didn’t take the ring. My finger bone was broken, and it fell off somewhere.” “No, impossible.” Brandon shook his head, closing his eyes. “Regardless, you have to come with me now.” “Wake up.” I raised my hand to slap him, but it was blocked before it could land. Father had arrived at some point. He sneered. “Dr. Stone, you say you’re not my daughter? Very well.” He pointed to my neck. “Explain this then.”

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1. I never dreamed my husband, the man whose hands sweat just driving a car, could ever do such a thing. The day my sister Diana was kidnapped, he transformed. His usual timid demeanor vanished into frantic urgency. He only said, “Wait at home,” and rushed off. I thought he was calling the police. Then I saw the news: police surrounding an abandoned factory, and a man driving an SUV straight through the gates. The camera zoomed in. It was clearly my husband, Matthew. The report praised a retired special forces hero who rescued the hostages. Diana was safe. But watching it, I laughed a bitter laugh. “You said driving made your hands shake,” I challenged him. “When our daughter had a 104‑degree fever, you refused to drive her to the hospital, afraid of an accident. Back then we had no money for her treatment. Now you crash a car with fifty thousand dollars to save someone else. What a hero.” Matthew stood speechless, stammering. Then Diana, leaning weakly against him, explained, “Don’t blame him, Tiffany. Years ago, he accidentally hurt me in a car accident. After that, he promised he would only ever drive for me.” “Sis, you really shouldn’t misunderstand him.” … Inside the hospital room, Matthew grabbed my arm, wanting to speak to me outside. “Say it right here!” I fiercely shook off Matthew’s hand, demanding an explanation. Matthew sighed. “Don’t misunderstand, I just… I was afraid you’d become too dependent on me if you knew I was a retired special forces operative.” “I wasn’t exactly hiding it, either. Why didn’t you ask me?” “Besides, what difference would it make if you knew? What could it change?” Mom and Dad carefully adjusted Diana’s blankets. Dad lowered his voice. “Your sister just fell asleep. Matthew’s right. Why didn’t you ask?” “Matthew wasn’t hiding anything from anyone. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for not asking, for not caring about your own husband. Who are you blaming now?” I looked at my uncomprehending parents, a bitter taste rising in my throat. Hadn’t I cared enough about Matthew? Matthew and I had been married for six years. Matthew said he’d experienced a major earthquake while volunteering and suffered from PTSD. He was timid and easily scared, afraid to drive, afraid to go out at night, afraid to argue with anyone. He even feared going to crowded places to buy groceries. I supported him for six years. I worked three jobs a day, saving money to find Matthew the best therapist. I became a fierce lioness, holding our household together. When Matthew got into a fight and was taken to the precinct, I, heavily pregnant, knelt before the other party, begging for their understanding. Because of an outsider’s comment that Matthew was a kept man, I, fearing he’d overthink it, took all our savings to open a business for him. Even when the business failed completely, leaving us in debt, I didn’t say a word. Our daughter was frail, getting a fever every change of season. That night, her temperature soared to 104 degrees, but Matthew’s hands trembled on the steering wheel. His PTSD was acting up, preventing him from driving. This was despite the fact that he had just driven for his nephew’s parent-teacher conference that very afternoon. I gritted my teeth, scooped up our daughter, and rushed to the hospital. But it was too late. Our daughter ended up in the ICU. Matthew’s eyes turned red with anger. He frowned deeply, then spoke through gritted teeth. “You’re so ungrateful. I saved your sister. Why are you so mad?” “Can’t I be mad?” “I sold our house to pay for our daughter’s medical bills, and you just conjure up fifty thousand dollars as a down payment?” “You had money, but you wouldn’t use it to treat our daughter. You took our marital assets and spent them on another woman. You pair of cheating dogs!” My words grew uglier and uglier, fueled by the thought of our daughter, lying alone in her hospital room. My accusations silenced Mom and Dad. Furious, Dad kicked me in the chest. For a moment, I felt a coppery taste well up in my throat. “What cheating dogs? That’s your sister!” “If you want to blame someone, blame us! Do you expect me to give you an IOU?” “That money belongs to Matthew. What does it have to do with you?” “Are you trying to disown us? You ungrateful daughter!” “If you’re so unhappy, then get a divorce!” A chill spread through my heart. “Divorce!” 2 Agreement: The Bitter Truth Matthew no longer bothered to keep up the pretense. He parked his SUV casually downstairs, one hand on the steering wheel, the other flicking his burning cigarette out the window to extinguish it between his thumb and forefinger. Matthew handed me a folder, instructing me to sign. “Diana was afraid you’d misunderstand and want a divorce, so she insisted I explain everything clearly.” I looked through the marital property agreement he handed me. Only then did I realize that my good-for-nothing husband was actually the big boss of an international security company, with countless properties and assets to his name. “Honey, don’t make a fuss. Our daughter has her own trust fund. She can access it after she turns eighteen. As long as she doesn’t elope with a man at eighteen like you did, I guarantee she’ll be financially secure for life!” My fingertips, gripping the document, turned white. “I eloped at eighteen? Matthew, how shameless are you? I followed you when I was eighteen. You’re saying I eloped at eighteen!” “You’re the shameless one, running off with me at eighteen!” Matthew slammed his hand against the steering wheel. He paused, a flicker in his eyes, avoiding my gaze. “That’s not what I meant, don’t misunderstand!” My teeth ground together, and I spoke each word distinctly. “I’m not misunderstanding. I wasn’t joking about the divorce. And my daughter doesn’t need your trust fund.” “Let’s get a divorce!” Matthew clicked his tongue impatiently. “Why do you have to get a divorce? Yes, I kept it from you, but why didn’t you ask me?” “Our daughter has cerebral palsy. She can’t take over my company!” “My assets will still go to your family, won’t they? They’ll go to your sister’s child!” Matthew told me to be content. He said that not finding another woman to have children with was already a testament to his love for me. He said it was better to leave the company to my sister’s child than to someone else. “You and our daughter will still have someone to depend on later, right?” After Matthew finished speaking, he seemed to be waiting for me to be utterly grateful to him. I refused to sign and didn’t want to communicate with him anymore. I simply told him to wait for the court summons. When I went to pick up our daughter, I found Diana and my nephew, Peter, there. Diana was six years older than me, but simply by appearance, an outsider would easily mistake me for the older sister. The dark green silk scarf she used to carry her Hermes bag was one I had always wanted but never bought. I noticed the charm on Peter’s backpack. It was a character from our daughter’s favorite cartoon. When my daughter tugged at it a couple of times, Peter angrily stomped on the charm. “I broke it, and you still won’t get it. I’ll just have Uncle Matthew buy me another one!” Diana offered an apologetic smile, but the look in her eyes felt like a challenge. “Matthew specially took Peter abroad to buy this birthday gift!” Diana was there specifically to explain things to me. “Lily, Matthew rescued me because I’m a manager at his security company. I handle many important projects. I can’t afford to have anything happen to me!” “I’m not like a housewife such as yourself! I can help Matthew with his career!” “Matthew never hid anything from you. Both Mom and Dad and I knew what Matthew did. You’re the only one who didn’t know. Why didn’t you ever care about your husband?” “He’s a hero!” “Matthew said he just didn’t want you and your daughter to rely on him too much!” Listening to Diana, I felt my heart clench, a searing pain gripping me. Matthew didn’t want my daughter and me to rely on him. He pretended to be poor, deceiving me, making me live like a madwoman for six years. “Get out!” “Get as far away from me as possible!” Before I could finish speaking, I heard Peter place my daughter’s food bowl on the floor. He used a string to pull at her neck. My daughter choked and coughed, two distinct white marks appearing on her throat. He wanted her to eat like a dog on the floor. “Puppy, come eat!” “What are you doing?!” In a panic, I pushed Peter, and he cried, scared by my intensity. Mom embraced Peter, comforting him. Dad said I was making a big deal out of nothing, targeting Peter, targeting Diana. My eyes burned with anger. Matthew had appeared at the doorway at some point. Diana noticed Matthew’s displeasure. My daughter, seeing her father, instinctively reached out her small hands. “It’s all my fault, all my fault. I didn’t raise Peter well, and Peter doesn’t have a dad to teach him!” “Peter, apologize to Uncle Matthew quickly!” Diana, her eyes red, apologized to Matthew. Matthew told me to let bygones be bygones. 3 Favoritism: Sisters at Odds I filed for divorce in court and moved with my daughter into a small, dilapidated apartment. I had already consulted with a lawyer. Since our daughter was under three, custody would naturally go to me. I scrolled through Diana’s social media. Photos showed Diana and Matthew standing side by side, Mom and Dad on the sofa, holding Peter. It looked just like a young couple bringing their child to visit the grandparents. A relative commented, “Matthew is so filial, buying so many things again.” “Doesn’t your sister ever visit your parents?” Diana replied, “No, Tiffany is very busy. She has to take her child for physical therapy every week!” “Filial or not, there are always excuses. Luckily, she married a good man! If it weren’t for the elopement causing such a scandal, he would have been your husband.” “But either way, he’s still family.” Diana’s social media was no longer set to a three-day viewing limit. I scrolled through her posts, seeing snapshots of Matthew’s life over the past six years. As a son-in-law, Matthew was absolutely exemplary: celebrating birthdays with Mom and Dad, bringing gifts and transferring money for holidays. As a husband and father, he patiently tutored children, attended parent-teacher conferences, and stayed up all night with his wife when she needed an IV drip. But that woman wasn’t me. The people Matthew was filial to weren’t my parents. I tightly hugged my daughter, tears streaming down my face. Just after I commented on that post, Matthew’s call came through. I took a deep breath, pressed the answer button, and deliberately let my voice sound husky from crying. “Hello?” “Lily? What’s the meaning of your comment? Diana is crying.” Matthew’s voice carried suppressed anger. “I’ve already explained everything to you clearly. How can your mind be so twisted?” “Are you implying Diana and I are having an affair?” “I’ve set up a trust fund for our daughter, and I’ll transfer money to you every month for household expenses. What more are you dissatisfied with?” “You’re a housewife, so don’t meddle in company affairs.” “Delete that comment.” I scoffed internally, but on the surface, I feigned distress and panic. “I didn’t. You were the one who hid marital assets first. Diana is draped in gold and silver, while I have to borrow money just to buy a bowl of noodles.” “You don’t even allow me to vent my emotions?” As I spoke, I quietly pressed the record button. I had just discovered when making a payment today that all my bank cards and payment accounts were frozen. Silence stretched for a few seconds on the other end. After a while, Matthew sighed. “Freezing your accounts was meant to make you calm down, to realize what hardships you’d face without me.” “Your accounts will be unfrozen in a while. Think it over and come back.” “From now on, I’ll be your support.” Before hanging up, Matthew made me a promise. I found it utterly ridiculous. I hadn’t relied on him since we got married. Matthew didn’t spare a thought for how my daughter and I would live while my accounts were frozen. He didn’t offer to bring us back either. I knew he was taking Mom, Dad, Diana, and Peter on an overseas trip soon. Even if Mom and Dad weren’t my biological parents anymore, my daughter and I couldn’t stand in the way of his filial piety.

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1. I used to have a knack for playing Cupid for everyone around me. Looking back, that was the start of my nightmare. I remember introducing my best friend to my brother, and my roommate to my cousin. Who would’ve thought my best friend would betray my brother on their wedding day? The whole thing sent my mom to the hospital with a heart attack, and my brother became the laughingstock of the entire family. What was worse, my brother didn’t just lose face; his vengeful ex-wife ruined his career after the divorce. In despair, he jumped into a river, ending his life. As for my roommate, my cousin swindled her out of all her dowry and wedding gifts after they married. She was even subjected to domestic abuse when she got pregnant. She blamed me for introducing them, convinced I had ruined her life. One day, she stormed into my house, stabbed me to death, and then took her own life right there. Two marriages, three tragic deaths. My heart was heavy with regret. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day I introduced my best friend to a potential partner. This time, with a trembling hand, I suggested my cousin instead. … The moment I sent the recommendation, a voice message from my best friend, Cheryl, popped up: “Is this your cousin? He looks pretty decent in his profile. Tell him to take us out for dinner.” In my previous life, I had foolishly asked my own brother to treat her. Cheryl, of course, showed up with a bunch of colleagues and insisted on a high-end sushi place, running up a bill of five or six hundred dollars for my brother. Thinking of my cheapskate cousin, Lance, I couldn’t help but chuckle. That evening, at the sushi restaurant, Cheryl indeed brought a few colleagues. As Lance and I walked in, his brow furrowed, and he muttered to me, “Your friend really knows how to spend, huh? Sushi? What’s wrong with the diner next door?” I snickered internally, but outwardly I soothed him, “First impressions, you know? You have to show a girl you’re serious.” Lance clamped his mouth shut. Cheryl saw us and quickly said, “I brought a few colleagues. You guys don’t mind, do you?” To my surprise, Lance was remarkably generous. “Not at all. We’re not that petty.” I was a bit taken aback. Lance and Cheryl seemed to hit it off, laughing together several times during dinner. Midway through, I went to the restroom. Cheryl followed me in and whispered, “Your cousin isn’t as much of a bumpkin as you made him out to be. Get ready to call me sis-in-law!” I could only offer an awkward smile. I thought Lance had genuinely turned over a new leaf. He even rushed to pay the bill. But after settling it, he declared, perfectly straight-faced, “Total bill was six hundred and twenty bucks. Just venmo me a hundred and three dollars and forty cents each.” 2. Cheryl’s colleagues mumbled, “I thought he was treating. If I’d known it was this expensive, I would’ve gone next door.” “Seriously. Why pretend to be generous if you’re not going to pay?” Cheryl’s face darkened, and she shot me a furious glare. “Didn’t you say your cousin had money? He can’t even spring for one meal?” I could only offer a sheepish grin. “Maybe the sushi was just too pricey. If it was the diner, he probably would have.” Lance acted as if he hadn’t heard a thing, urging Cheryl to pay. “I barely ate anything just now. Technically, I shouldn’t even be splitting it. You guys aren’t thinking of skipping out on the bill, are you? And you, Tiffany, even if you’re my cousin, close family still settles their debts. You need to pay up too.” So, I paid my share. Back home, Cheryl was fuming, swearing she’d block Lance. I was secretly thrilled. Who would’ve thought that two days later, they’d be an item? I asked Cheryl what made her change her mind so suddenly. She beamed. “You wouldn’t believe it. After that night, he not only paid me back my share but also transferred back everyone else’s money.” “He said our money shouldn’t benefit outsiders.” I paused for a moment before asking, “Don’t you think my cousin is a bit cheap?” Cheryl rolled her eyes. “Your cousin makes a fortune. He’s not short on cash. He was just testing me.” My mind drifted back to my honest, straightforward brother. In my previous life, he had paid the bill without a fuss, only to be called unromantic and stingy by Cheryl, who complained he should have sent her roses after dinner. After they got together, Cheryl took his debit card and became a stay-at-home girlfriend, buying luxury bags and clothes non-stop. She even took a sixty thousand dollar dowry when they married. But on their wedding day, she was caught cheating with the male photographer in the dressing room. My brother wanted a divorce, but she managed to take a large chunk of his assets, and her antics even cost him his job. Meanwhile, my jobless cousin ended up marrying my kind and hardworking roommate. After marriage, my roommate had to work and take care of my cousin and my demanding aunt. Even then, my cousin wasn’t satisfied. He disparaged her for her humble background and even physically abused her when she was pregnant. My roommate was beaten to the point of miscarriage but couldn’t get a divorce. From then on, she harbored a deep hatred for my cousin and me. But she couldn’t fight my cousin, so she sought revenge on me, even taking me with her in death. Just then, a knock echoed on my bedroom door. I opened it to find my roommate, Serena, her eyes red and swollen from crying. I quickly asked her what was wrong. Serena said, a little embarrassed, “My parents are rushing me to go home and get married, but I don’t want to. Once you get married back home, you can’t leave the boonies.” “Tiffany, do you know anyone suitable? Could you introduce me to someone?” 3. I was about to refuse, but looking at her tear-filled eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to say no. I had wronged her in my previous life. I thought my cousin was just lazy, not a scheming jerk. Just then, my phone rang. It was my brother, Tony. “Mom said I should pick you up for dinner. When are you coming down?” My eyes lit up. I took Serena’s hand and said, “I actually know just the right person. My brother. Do you want to meet him?” Serena nodded, and I quickly told Tony, “Don’t go home yet. I’m introducing you to a friend. Let’s all have dinner together.” Tony wasn’t sure what we liked, so he booked a table at a high-end seafood buffet nearby. In the car, Serena hesitated, whispering, “Will it be too expensive? I’m almost out of money this month.” I gave her a reassuring look. “My brother’s treating. We don’t need to pay a thing.” During dinner, Tony was a quiet guy. All he did was peel shrimp and crack crabs for us. He wasn’t much for conversation. Serena was a bit shy at first, but gradually relaxed, and the atmosphere was decent enough. Later, they exchanged numbers. Serena tried to venmo Tony for the buffet, but he refused. Tony secretly asked me, “Did your roommate not like me? Why would she try to pay me? Was there something I did wrong?” I could only advise him not to take her money and suggest Serena treat him next time. After going out a few more times, they officially started dating. Cheryl’s relationship with Lance was progressing even faster. Soon, it was time to meet the parents and discuss marriage. I thought about it and decided to be honest with Cheryl. “Lance isn’t my biological cousin. He’s my cousin on my mom’s side, and he doesn’t even have a job. Are you sure you want to marry him?” To my surprise, Cheryl already knew. “He told me all about it. He’s in business, makes a few hundred thousand a year. Way better than your actual brother, the programmer who could lose his job anytime.” I almost laughed. “You actually believe that? How is he better than my brother?” Cheryl’s tone grew cold. “Are you just jealous of my happiness? You’d be happy if I ended up with your brother, wouldn’t you?” I quickly shut my mouth, terrified she might actually fall for Tony. Serena’s family was pressuring her to settle down, so after discussing it, she and Tony decided to get engaged too. Serena put a lot of thought into the gifts she brought to our house, even knitting a scarf for me. My parents were overjoyed, doubling their initial engagement gift from a thousand to six thousand. I remembered my previous life. Cheryl’s first visit to our house. She wore designer clothes but only brought a case of fruit. She claimed she didn’t want us to look down on her. Even then, my parents had treated her with such warmth, let alone a considerate girl like Serena. Cheryl, on the other hand, had a mishap the moment she met Lance’s family. She called me, crying, “Your aunt and uncle actually made me wash dishes!” 4. I quickly tried to comfort her. “That’s terrible. If it’s too much, just break up.” But Cheryl suddenly calmed down. “Lance said it’s his mom’s test. After we get married, there’ll naturally be someone to do the dishes.” “Tiffany, stop trying to make me break up with him. Do you think I don’t deserve to marry your cousin?” “Lance told me you originally wanted to introduce me to your brother, that IT guy, didn’t you? Everyone knows IT guys are out of a job by thirty-five. You think I’m going to marry a charity case?” I decided to just keep quiet, offering my best wishes. After the engagement was settled, my parents prepared a sixty-thousand-dollar dowry plus a house. Serena was overwhelmed, saying her family couldn’t afford a matching dowry. But my parents and brother didn’t care. My mom, beaming, held Serena’s hand and said, “We’re giving this to you because you deserve it. It has nothing to do with your family.” Serena’s family came from a very poor rural area, but even so, her parents scraped together a thousand dollars as a wedding gift for her, hoping she’d be happy. I saw Serena wiping away tears on the balcony and suddenly felt incredibly sad. In her previous life, she had married such a jerk. How heartbroken her parents must have been. Cheryl and Lance were also preparing for their wedding. Coincidentally, we ran into each other while scouting wedding venues. Cheryl saw us, her eyes wide. “Tiffany, your brother and Serena want to book a venue this expensive too?” I retorted, annoyed, “Are you the only ones allowed to?” Lance grinned. “We just figured you wouldn’t be able to afford it. After all, your brother’s almost thirty. He won’t be making money for many more years.” Serena whispered, “Maybe we should switch to a different hotel.” Cheryl rolled her eyes disdainfully. “A hairdresser thinking she can marry into money and climb the social ladder.” Serena opened her mouth, her face flushed crimson. I was instantly furious. What hairdresser? She’s a professional stylist, thank you very much! I was about to argue when I heard my brother ask, “How much is this venue?” The manager, who had been watching the scene unfold, quickly stepped forward. “You’re both booking on popular dates, and it’s a holiday weekend. The venue fee is thirty-eight thousand, and the banquet costs are separate.” My brother spoke directly. “Fifty thousand. We’ll take it.” Serena tugged on his sleeve. “Don’t spend that much money.” Cheryl immediately shot a glance at Lance, who then declared, “We’ll offer eighty thousand!” My brother raised it to a hundred thousand. Lance, caught up in the moment, shouted, “How about two hundred thousand?!” Cheryl shot us a triumphant look. To our surprise, my brother didn’t raise his offer. “Fine, you can have it then.” Cheryl and Lance were completely stunned. My brother and the manager directly booked another ballroom in the same hotel. Cheryl and Lance were left arguing with the manager nearby. As we left, Cheryl glared at me, seething. “You deliberately set us up, didn’t you? Just wait for the wedding day!”

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To surprise my husband for Valentine’s Day, I lied about going on a business trip, but secretly came home. The moment I pushed open the front door, I saw a strange woman lying on the bed, and a furious rage ignited within me. I rushed over, grabbed her hair, ready to unleash my anger on this shameless homewrecker, but as I turned her over, a chilling dread froze me to the core. Her eyes were vacant and lifeless, staring fixedly at me. A grotesque knife wound on her neck was gushing blood, staining the entire bedsheet crimson. Just as my heart seized with terror, I heard my husband’s key fumbling in the lock at the front door. Panicked beyond belief, I scrambled, desperately hiding in the bedroom closet. The closet door had barely swung shut when my fingertips brushed against cold, stiff flesh. I looked down, and another woman’s corpse was curled up inside! 1. My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to shatter them. I clamped my hand over my mouth, terrified that even the slightest sound would bring about my demise. The scent of mothballs, combined with the chilling odor of the stiff corpse beside me, was suffocating. Through the narrow slats of the closet door, I watched as Chris walked in, casually closing the bedroom door behind him. My husband, the man who usually spoke in gentle tones, who was always agreeable to me, who worried if I even frowned. But now, there was no surprise or panic on his face, not even a hint of emotion. He simply cast a calm glance at the woman lying on the bed, freshly deceased, blood still gushing from the horrific wound on her neck, staining the pristine white sheets a sickening red. His gaze was as indifferent as if he were looking at an ant on the floor. Then, he walked to the bed, bent down, and with a disturbingly unhurried motion, picked up the paring knife that had fallen nearby. The tip of the knife still glistened with crimson droplets, which splattered onto the light-colored rug with a soft plink, spreading into a small, dark red stain. He held the knife, plunging it into the woman’s corpse, again and again, fiercely and precisely. The dull, wet thwack of the blade sinking into flesh echoed clearly in my ears. He stabbed her seven or eight times before finally stopping, tossing the knife aside. He turned the body over, gently cradling it in his arms, his gaze tenderly sweeping over her face. Then he pulled out a few wet wipes, meticulously and patiently, little by little, wiping away the blood spatters on her face and hair. He even tenderly smoothed her tangled auburn hair with his fingertips and gently straightened the wrinkles in her shirt. “You’re really not being good.” He spoke, his voice low, with an eerie, almost doting intimacy, just like when he’d coax me after one of my little tantrums. “Why do you insist on knowing my secrets? Hmm?” A chill shot from my feet straight to the top of my head. Secrets? What secrets did he have? Had this woman discovered something that led to her murder? What about me? Chris and I had been together for almost seven years, would I be next? After speaking, he gazed at the corpse for a moment longer, then placed an incredibly gentle kiss on her forehead before leaving the room. I didn’t know where he was going. I just tried to put as much distance as possible between myself and the corpse, then scanned the room for an escape route. But I found nothing before Chris returned. My hands and feet were icy cold, and I was curled up in the farthest corner from the body, watching the situation outside. Chris sat on the bed, resting the corpse on his lap as he sipped his tea, stroking her ashen cheek. After finishing his tea, he retrieved an oversized, thick black duffel bag from a storage cabinet. With practiced ease, he dragged the corpse over, stuffed it inside, and zipped it up. The entire process was seamless, without a hint of hesitation or wasted movement, so practiced it sent shivers down my spine. This was definitely not spontaneous; this level of expertise… I dared not think further. My whole body trembled uncontrollably, like a leaf in the wind. My teeth chattered involuntarily, making faint clicking sounds. Even worse, from extreme fear and prolonged crouching, my legs and feet were completely numb, feeling like a thousand needles were pricking them. Instinctively, I tried to shift my numb ankle, but my knee accidentally bumped the inner wall of the closet. “Click.” A faint scrape of wood, in the deadly silent room, broken only by the sound of the zipper, was like a clap of thunder. Chris, who was tightening the duffel bag, froze! He suddenly lifted his head, his gaze, sharp as a hawk’s, cutting like a physical blade directly towards the closet where I was hiding! Those eyes, usually filled with gentle smiles, were now cold, alert, and full of scrutiny and murder. I instantly froze completely, my blood seeming to stop flowing, my mind a blank. I was doomed! He found me! I’ll be the next one in the bag! 2. Yet, Chris merely narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the closet for a full ten seconds, a slight frown on his brow. Then he slowly lowered his head, muttering to himself. “Heh, just getting ahead of myself.” He resumed his task, but the speed at which he dragged the duffel bag and cleaned the blood from the floor noticeably increased. The duffel bag was temporarily tucked into the bedroom corner, partially obscured by the curtain’s tassels. Chris didn’t immediately move it. Instead, as if nothing had happened, he meticulously checked his shirt and hands, ensuring no bloodstains, then opened the bedroom door and walked out. Soon, the sound of a news broadcast drifted from the living room, a female anchor’s clear voice reporting on irrelevant international affairs. Then came the sound of running water, the squeak of a wet mop on the floor, and his occasional off-key humming. He was cleaning up, as normal and natural as any meticulous husband doing chores after work. I bit my lip hard, letting the metallic taste of blood spread in my mouth. I had to do something! I couldn’t just cower here like a lamb to the slaughter, waiting to die! I forced myself to calm down, beginning to cautiously grope around the narrow, dark closet, filled with the smell of unnatural things. My fingertips once again touched the cold, stiff body beside me, and the icy sensation sent my stomach churning. I suppressed the urge to vomit and the extreme fear, carefully searching her body. Maybe I could find something to identify her? Or, find a weapon for self-defense? Suddenly, my fingers brushed against something hard. It was on her hand, which hung limply at her side. It was a ring, on the woman’s ring finger. The design was highly unusual, like a snake biting its own tail, its body coiling, scales intricate, and its eyes set with two dark emeralds, glowing eerily in the faint light within the closet. I knew this ring, a very clear memory of it! Just a few months ago, I had seen its design sketch in a corner of a locked drawer in Chris’s study! At the time, I’d curiously asked about it, but he had just casually dismissed it as an old practice drawing he’d long forgotten. My heart pounded in my chest, threatening to burst from my throat! This was evidence, irrefutable proof directly linking Chris to this unknown woman! This unique ring was very likely the reason she was killed! Trembling, I tried to slip the ring off her stiff finger, but the corpse was completely rigid, the joints unyielding. The ring was stuck at the knuckle, unmoving. I dared not use force, fearing I’d make too much noise, so I had to give up for now. Perhaps… perhaps leaving it, for the police to discover later, would actually be crucial evidence to incriminate him? A faint flicker of hope ignited in my chest. Just as I tried to shift my position to relieve my almost numb legs and feet, and continue searching for other clues, my ankle accidentally hooked an object deep within the closet. It was a dusty, old wooden box, which slid further in when I nudged it, making a faint shhh sound as it scraped against the rough wooden floor of the closet. The sound wasn’t really loud, especially inside this fairly soundproof closet. But at that very moment, the TV volume in the living room was precisely lowered, and the mopping sound stopped. Heavy footsteps resonated, light but purposeful. He stopped just outside the bedroom door, utterly still. Through the thin door, I could almost feel his gaze, palpable and predatory, scanning the entire room. My palms were drenched in cold sweat, clutching tightly the small, decorative button I had instinctively torn off my jacket earlier. 3. Just then, the doorbell rang without warning. Chris, outside the door, seemed to freeze for a moment too. Immediately, his footsteps changed direction, heading towards the front door, a little more hurried than before. “Chris, open the door! It’s me, Archie!” Archie’s distinctively loud voice, my best friend, carried clearly from outside, laced with an obvious impatience and urgency. An overwhelming surge of joy instantly washed over me! It was Archie! My best friend! But the euphoria lasted only a second, receding as quickly as the tide, replaced by an even deeper fear and dread. Chris was a merciless devil now. How would he deal with Archie? What if he… what if he hurt Archie too? “Coming.” Chris responded, his voice instantly reverting to its usual gentle tone, even with a hint of annoyed resignation at being disturbed. I heard him walk quickly to the entryway, then the click-clack of the door opening. “Archie? What brings you here at this hour? Is something wrong?” His tone was perfectly pitched with surprise and a familiar, slight complaint. “Aurora’s suitcase!” Archie’s voice came through clearly, tinged with anger, “She left it with me earlier, to trick you into thinking she was on a business trip! She said she’d pick it up around five or six this evening, and we were supposed to have dinner! It’s almost eight now, and there’s no sign of her. Her phone has been unreachable since this afternoon—first no answer, then it went straight to voicemail! What’s going on? Where is she?” I held my breath, my heart pounding in my throat, every nerve in my body stretched taut. I desperately hoped Archie would notice something amiss, that she would be assertive, that she would barge in! Chris was silent for a second or two, then his lighthearted laugh came, tinged with doting helplessness. “That scatterbrain! She hasn’t arrived yet, I’m waiting for her too. Just leave the suitcase with you for now, Archie, thank you so much for coming all this way! I’ll make sure she treats you to a big dinner later!” He was lying! “Hasn’t arrived? No way!” Archie’s voice instantly rose an octave, laced with obvious, undisguised suspicion. “I clearly dropped her off at the apartment complex entrance around four this afternoon! I saw her walk in with a small suitcase myself!” “Chris, what’s your game? Make her answer the phone! Now! Immediately! Or let me in to wait for her! I need to know what’s going on!” My heart felt like it would leap out of my throat. I wanted Archie to come in, but I also wanted her to leave quickly. Chris’s voice took on a decisive firmness, even subtly hinting at an imperceptible coldness and threat. “Archie, look, I’m preparing a surprise for her. The apartment’s a mess with balloons and streamers, I haven’t cleaned up, it’s really not fit for guests.” “The moment she gets home, I’ll have her call you back right away, I promise you’ll be the first call, alright? Don’t worry so much.” Silence fell for a few seconds outside. This brief stillness was filled with Archie’s hesitation, suspicion, and calculation. I could almost picture her frowning, scrutinizing Chris from head to toe, trying to find a crack in his facade. “…Fine.” Archie’s voice finally broke the silence again, laced with clear reluctance and lingering doubt. “Chris, I’m telling you, if even one hair on Aurora’s head is harmed, you and I are through! The moment she arrives, you tell her to call me! Immediately! You hear me?” “Don’t worry! Absolutely! I promise!” Chris’s tone was filled with relieved sincerity. Then, the sound of the door closing forcefully. Immediately followed by the distinct, chilling, and final— “Click.” The sound of the deadbolt locking. It wasn’t loud, but it was like a heavy gate crashing down before me, severing all my connections to the outside world, to life itself. Outside, a deadly silence. Then, I heard Chris’s voice. No longer the feigned gentleness or resignation, but stripped of all masks, raw, metallic, and utterly cold. His voice wasn’t loud, but every word, piercingly clear, penetrated the door and drilled into my ears: “Aurora…” He paused, as if savoring the name, or perhaps confirming that his prey finally had no escape. “So your surprise for me was to watch me perform?”

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